#the claims are small yet the rewards are eternal | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

komotionlessqueenmm · 1 year

Text

Headcanon/Preference # 23

Gifs NOT mine.

Requested? Nope.

Year posted - 2023

Fandom - The Witcher (TV series)

Note that I haven't actually watched this show, I plan on watching it, but only the content that included Henry, because him getting fired for being "toxic" is total bullshit.

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

| How did Geralt first cross paths with you? |

• Exactly how you would expect, he saved you from being killed by a Noonwraith while trying to gather wild herbs for your elixirs.

• He'd been traveling for a fortnight, and he'd dealt with all sorts of trouble along the way. Who knew his chosen path would be so troublesome.

• The day had been relatively calm and quiet, which he was grateful for, he needed a break. Then a sound suddenly broke through the quiet, a woman's scream from further up the road.

• Geralt couldn't help the sigh that passed his lips, of course he wouldn't get to have a break from the chaos of the world. But regardless of that he urged Roach to trot faster so he could help whoever potentially needed his assistance.

• The creature had you by the wrist, trying to slash at you with its sickle, which you continuously managed to dodge in the nick of time. Another terrified scream ripping from your throat as the Noonwraith shrieked at you.

• Geralt unsheathed his sword and got to work, slaying the Noonwraith with a little bit of trouble, he was exhausted after all. All the while you had rushed around gathering the herbs you had dropped as they fought.

• "Those must be pretty important." Geralt had observed gruffly after he'd slain the Noonwraith. You ducked your head in slight embarrassment, feeling as if he was scolding you for it. He then turned to leave, not honestly expecting anything from you.

• "Wait!" You called out to him, taking a tiny step back when he turned to look at you. "Thank you... For saving me." He nodded his head without a word. "I... I don't have anything to give to you as a reward, except for a hot meal and a warm bath if you'd like."

• Considering the week he's had, that was the best reward he'd had in what felt like an eternity. But Geralt maintained his cold demeanor, and accepted the offer, following you back to your modest little cottage nestled deep in the woods.

| When did Geralts obsession start? |

• That evening when you invited him into your home, you fed him well, and explained that you are a "potion master" as you put it. After he'd finished his meal, you tended to the small injury on his forearm, then left him to tend to the small bathhouse, preparing a warm bath as promised.

• You'd mixed in a few fragrance oils and flower petals into the steaming water. Trying to make it as relaxing as you could, without being overbearing. Geralt had found it amusing when he'd realized what you'd done, but he was pleased with the claiming atmosphere that now filled the bathhouse.

• You'd left him be as he soaked, rushing off to your cellar to start working on the elixir you'd been gathering herbs for. And as he soaked he thought about you, about how tender you'd been with him, and how you'd treated him so endearingly. So much so that an onlooker would have assumed you were lovers with the way you fretted over him. It was nice.

• You'd offer him lodging after his bath, giving him your own bed, and stating you'd sleep in the upper loft. He'd tried convincing you to just let him stay in the upper loft, but you declined saying how he'd saved your life, and you intended on offering him the best comfort that you could as a reward. He accepted this offer when you sternly informed him that you wouldn't change your mind on the matter.

• So that night he lay in bed, surrounded by the scent of you, just thinking about everything that's happened in such a short time since he'd met you. You been grateful for his help, you gave him a hardy meal, a nice bath, and now let him sleep in your bed. And yet unlike so many others he's helped, you didn't want anything in return. He'd saved you, and yet you didn't request that he help you with whatever other troubles you had.

• He wondered why you'd been so desperate to gather those herbs that you'd risk crossing paths with a Noonwraith. Let alone why you were intent on collecting them all again as he fought the creature, not even waiting until he'd slain it, or given up on gathering them all together.

• He wondered why you lived all the way out here, seemingly all alone deep in the woods. How you managed to survive your day to day life. You had few animals, and no crop fields, only a simple garden. And yet you seemed to be living comfortably, he'd seen nothing to suggest you had much wealth, but you weren't miserable like so many others he's met.

• His obsession started growing from the moment you'd welcomed him into your home. And as the day progressed and his curiosity peaked that obsession grew. You were a mystery to him, and with how kind you'd been to him he found himself smitten before the night was even out. Making his departure that morning an unwanted but necessary venture, so he'd left before the sun had risen, and while you still slept.

| Does Geralt try wooing you in a healthy way before snapping? And how does he do it? |

• He didn't stay away for very long, showing up one evening with a large gash on his arm, hoping you'd assist him. You of course rushed to do so, gathering healing herbs, cleaning and dressing the wound, and assuring him that he was more than welcome to rest at your home until he was well again.

• You'd offered him your bed again, stating it was more comfortable, and would be much easier for him to get to than the upper loft with his arm injury. This time however he wouldn't let you do that, and when you argued against it, he'd suggest that if he'd struggle with the ladder leading to the loft, that you could simply assist him.

• You'd thought about it for a moment, and eventually agreed with a heavy sigh, knowing you couldn't convince him otherwise. And that's what ended up happening, he struggled with the ladder, and you quickly rushed to place yourself directly behind him on the ladder, allowing him to lean against you as he slowly climbed up, following his pace patently.

• He was larger than you, but that didn't stop you from doing whatever you could to help him. And Geralt came to realize pretty quickly that that's just how you are, always trying to help in anyway you can without expecting anything in return. That made his obsession grow of course, no one had really ever been that way with him, so the feeling was addictive.

• Witchers heal much father than regular men, and combined with the healing herbs you'd used, his arm was completely healed by morning. And Geralt was intent on repaying your kindness, subconsciously hoping it would woo you the way your kindness had wooed him.

• In doing so Geralt worked on many chores around your homestead. Chopping wood, feeding your animals, repairing the damage he'd noticed to your home, even going out and hunting some game for you, which he later skinned and cured for you. Because of how much he was intent on doing for you, he had stayed with you for a few days.

• He would offhandedly praise your beauty, and often praised your skill crafts. He'd offered a helping hand with some of your elixirs, and went out and found some of the more rare ingredients you'd gotten low on. Most of which were only found in dangerous places. He assisted with cooking as well, and made as much small talk with you as he could.

| What happens when you politely reject Geralt for another man? |

• He'd learned so much about you in such a short time, and he found his heart felt lighter at the mere thought of you. So he decided he'd take a chance with you, feeling as if he'd never be the same without you in his life. He'd grown to love and adore you in so many ways, you were all he dreamed of, all he could think of, he needed you to be his.

• That evening after cleaning up after dinner, Geralt had taken a chance, and cupped your face between his hands. You looked at him with curiosity, then a surprised gasp escaped you when he suddenly kissed you. He all but melted into the kiss, but you remained stagnant, eventually pushing on his chest to get him to stop when he didn't seem to notice your lack of enthusiasm.

• He of course released you in an instant, worry and confusion etched onto his face. You then sheepishly explained that you were already betrothed to another, and you wouldn't accept his advances. You also explained that those elixirs that were so important for you to make were actually meant for your betrothed, who was suffering from a ailment you couldn't cure, but at the very least you could slow its progression.

• So you'd rejected him for a dying man... That hurt, much more than he'd ever admit. So he'd left without saying much, he needed to think, he needed to get away and let out his heartache. Which came out of him in a fit of rage as he brutally slain some bandits that he later crossed paths with.

| How bad will things get when Geralt does finally snap & become Yandere? |

• It's all he can think about anymore, you'd rejected him for a dying man, someone weak and unworthy of you. And his obsession starts taking a dark turn as that thought consumes him, and he allows that pent up rage to take over from time to time, which usually resulted in bloodshed.

• Eventually he finds his way back to your cottage, but he doesn't make his presence known to you. Instead he watches you from a distance, and follows you as you make your weekly trip to your betrotheds home. A basket containing the vials filled with your most powerful healing elixir hanging from your arm.

• The stone home was shabby, and in Geralts mind a pitiful excuse for a home. The dense woods surrounding it allowing Geralt plenty of cover to hide behind. And later into the evening, still early enough so you would get home before the sun went down, you'd left with an empty basket and a promise to return soon.

• Geralt stayed where he'd been hiding until the sun had set, and he knew you were long gone. Then he made his way into the stone home, breaking the door down in order to enter. Inside sitting at the table was a sickly man who wasn't nearly half the size of Geralt. He'd been eating salted meat and bread, a coughing fit taking hold of him as Geralt entered.

• The sudden of it all clearly terrifying the sick man, who through his coughing pleaded for his life. Geralt ignored him and walked around the little home, finding the vials of your elixir on the table beside the shabby bed. "Who are you?" The man asked once his coughing subsidized, Geralt looked to him with dark uncaring eyes.

• "You're the Witcher that saved (Y/n)." He realized quickly. That made Geralt smirk as he shoved the bedside table over, the vials breaking as they hit the stone floor. "What are you doing!?" He'd asked in a panic. "Cutting loose ends." Geralt stated calmly before leaving the man behind, knowing that without the elixir he'd die slowly, painfully, and all alone.

• That night Geralt showed up on your doorstep, a dark aura about him, making you nervous. Despite this nervousness however, you foolishly opened your home to him. And Geralt took full advantage of that, making it much easier for him to steal you away and runaway into the darkness. No one would ever come looking for you, and on such dangerous roads you'd never dare trying to run away from him.

| So what kind of a Yandere is Geralt? |

• Obsessive, possessive, jealous, and manipulative. He adores you, and he wants you all to himself. He's greedy and he'll kill anyone that might come between you, finding cleaver ways to cover the murder up.

• He would never harm you physically, but he will break you mentally. Then he will mold and reshape you into his perfect little obedient lover. You will love him the way he loves you, sooner or later, with or without the help of magic or potions.

• He will remind you constantly that without him you would be dead, that without him you would be nothing but meat for the crows. Sometimes he'll test you and pretend to leave without you in the night, if you run he will find you and punish you, if you cry out for him, he will come to you in an instant.

• Punishments from Geralt are usually being denied food and water for an extended period of time. Other times he'll make you walk as he rides Roach, and he won't allow you to take a break, making you walk for several days at times. Sometimes it'll be as simple as denying you things like, the warmth of the fire on a cold night, or a bedroll, leaving you to sleep on the hard icey forest floor.

• However when you are good Geralt is very tender and sweet with you. Making sure you are well sated and hydrated. Holding you lovingly in his arms as you ride together, his arms around your hips as you practically sat in his lap. Keeping you warm and comfortable on chilly nights, cuddling with you by the fire on a fairly comfy bed he'd made with things from the forest.

• When it's just you two he's easier to keep satisfied, simply do as he asks, do not fight him, praise him as often as he praises you, and never try running away.

• When others are around he's much harder to keep satisfied, as his jealousy knows no bounds, anyone and everyone is a threat in his eyes. So it's best just to stick with him, particularly right up against his side, with his arm around your shoulders reminding everyone you are his.

| Is Geralt worried anyone will find out? |

• Not in the slightest bit. Before ever taking you anywhere near other people, Geralt broke you to the point where you wouldn't try running away, or beg anyone to help you.

• In the beginning of it all he would chat with Roach about you, and as time went on, and he became more and more obsessed and deranged, he would loose his hold on morality of the situation, talking about it all allowed him to accept it much easier.

• If anyone tries to ever take you away because they know something is wrong, they'll vanish from town without a trace, along with the witcher and his female companion. You'll both become a ghost story in most of the settlements you pass through.

• Geralt is very good at manipulating people, and if that doesn't quite work he'll try to intimidate them, though it's rare but if that also fails then he'll simply kill them and anyone else that might get in his way.

• And considering how long you've been on the road now, he knows your betrothed is long dead, and you didn't have any family left, or any friends. No one knows who you are or where you came from except for him. No one cares about you anymore except for him, and he's sure to remind you of that fact until he's achieved breaking you completely into submission.

| What happens when/if you are ever hurt? |

• It was bound to happen sooner or later no matter how hard he might try to prevent it. You travel all over dangerous lands, and stay on the sidelines as he slays any beast or men that poses a threat. He really should have allowed you a dagger, or at least hide you somewhere safe when working a contract.

• He'd heard your panicked scream when one of the wolves managed to get passed him and corner you. It was as if his heart had been ripped from his chest, and the world was moving in slow motion. In reality he'd spun on his heel in an instant and thrown a knife into the wolfs throat before it could do anymore harm to you.

• He dispatched of the rest of the wolves, and rushed to your side as you sit on the ground, leaning against a tree and cradling your bleeding leg. He'd been making you wear trousers, as they were easier for you to travel in, but now he wished you'd had a dress on, as it would have been easier to get to the gash without causing you anymore pain.

• But that wasn't the case, so Geralt had to unlace the pants and pull them down until he can reach the gash. Cleaning it and dressing it as best he could, even taking advice from you when you told him what herbs would be best. Afterwards he pulled the pants back up as gently as he could, and pulled you up into his arms.

• After finding a safe place in the woods, Geralt set up a large camp. Somewhere for you to rest until your leg was healed, and where you would later train with a sword. He wouldn't make this mistake again, so he will make sure you can protect yourself properly if he cannot. While your leg is injured he would carry you everywhere, or let you ride Roach while he walked beside you to catch you if you fell.

| Is Geralts obsession in any way sexual? |

• In the very very beginning it wasn't sexual to him, you were to pure in his mind in the very beginning. But as time goes by, his love blooms into desire, which will deepen as his obsession grows, and even more so when he sees you bathe after he's taken you captive. He had to make sure you wouldn't run, and sometimes he couldn't help but look at you.

• He may be yandere and at times cruel, but he will not force himself onto you. Not for a kiss or anything else. Even when he wants to cuddle at night, he lets you initiate it, which due to the cold you did so often even when you were still fighting against him.

• But when you finally give into him, and begin to see his love and begin to love him in return. He's like a starved beast, everything is so fierce and intense, yet he is still gentle with you, knowing if he took it to far he could seriously hurt you, and that's the last thing he'd ever want.

• No one and I mean no one but Geralt can see your naked body. Not even the female maids you cross paths with in castles or keeps. If you need assistance in the bath or with your clothes Geralt will be the only one to help you. If someone barges in while you're in a compromising situation, he'll dispose of them for ever looking at what is for his eyes and his eyes alone. Doesn't matter to him who it is, and this could really prove to be a problem if it's someone of great importance.

• He's addicted to your taste, from the taste of your kisses, to the taste if your dripping pussy. Geralt would spend all day and night with his head buried between your thighs if you allowed him to. By the time he's finished with you, he'll be the only god you'll ever pray to.

• Geralt also fucking loves watching you ride his cock, and he doesn't care where you are when you do it. In the woods, an inn, a castle or keep, doesn't matter in the slightest. The sight if his cock stretching you out is far to divine a sight to pass up, not to mention how fucking incredible you look as you use him to fuck yourself into oblivion.

• Geralt will totally melt if you insist on sucking his cock, you look so precious and you do so well he doesn't honestly last long when you suck him off. Sometimes he'll order you to suck his cock and talk about all the filthy things he's gonna do to you as you work his length. But the he still much rather prefers to eat you out.

• He'll leave bruises on your skin from how tightly he holds you as he's fucking you. Sometimes he'll even leave bite marks, but he prefers when you bite him, it's just so primal feeling and he can't get enough. Geralt will warship your entire body for hours before sex and oftentimes after sex as well. Tender overstimulation and aftercare are his specialty.

• Geralt would give you the world on a silver platter if he could, but since that's easier said than done, he'll offer you his body to use as you please whenever you so please. And he feels most at home with his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, so be prepared for all the cockwarming you can take, because now there's no other way to sleep.

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

*Alrighty y'all I'm feeling better finally, and I'm trying to get back into the groove of writing. So I hope you enjoyed this piece, and know that if you've sent in a request I've got them in my drafts and I'm slowly working on them again.

- The Jaded Monkey 🐒

470 notes · View notes

a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 2 years

Text

A little bit of self indulgence this Monday.

ʚ Pairing: Commander Vaako x Fem reader

ʚ Summary: After helping the Lord Marshall conquer yet another planet, Count Vaako goes in search of something to keep, of someone he killed. What will his search reward him with?

You keep what you kill. That is the Necromonger way. That was what was taught to Andromedus Vaako when he converted, and he made great use of it, amassing ranks and wealth in no time.

Ten years had passed since the day of his marking, and Vaako was now the youngest commander in the armada. He thought he had everything, until an impertinent breeder on New Terra dared to challenge him to one-on-one combat.

The Lord Marshall watched, as did everyone else. Vaako wasted no time, easily dispatching his adversary with no harm to his own person. He dusted himself off and turned to his men.

“Most impressive,” the Lord Marshal said as he made his way to his most promising officer, picking up the dagger the challenger had dropped. “And I believe this is yours now?”

Another dagger. Vaako eyed the blade with barely disguised contempt. “Another knife for my collection.” He said. “I am running out of room for them all.”

The blade in itself was hardly noteworthy, with nothing special to set it apart from the others. “Indeed. Perhaps something else would suit.”

The Lord Marshal looked at the crowd that had gathered. “Who is this man? Where does he come from?”

The locals looked around, mumbling, wondering who should talk.

“He is Prince Irubaan, sire,” someone called out from within the crowd. “He has a palace by the lake.”

That piqued Vaako’s interest. “A palace by the lake?” The Lord Marshal mused. “Perhaps there you will find something more to your liking?”

“Indeed,” said Vaako. Given that it would take several days for the inhabitants to be converted, Vaako had plenty of time. “I will have Toal keep you updated on any developments,” said the Lord Marshal, as he was eager to inspect the new planet that had been conquered. “Good luck.”

---*✧*---

The palace was breathtaking, as were the lands it sat on.

"The Prince may have been a poor fighter," said Vaako to his men. "But he certainly had good taste." They all nodded in agreement.

Had he been anything but a Necromonger, Vaako would have settled here as the new Lord. Still, the anticipation of new discovery proved to be too much and Vaako marched inside, only to find himself being greeted by a small battalion of servants. Clearly, word of the Prince’s passing had reached their ears. Vaako stood by the entrance while they all bowed.

"I will expect all of you to convert by the time we leave this place," he said. "And I will expect all of you to bear the mark of conversion."

The servants bowed once more before rushing about their duties. Vaako walked around, taking in everything before him, silently earmarking certain pieces to be given as tribute, for his Lord Marshal would expect no less.

While he was walking around, making his way to the second floor, you rushed out upon hearing the commotion downstairs.

"Come to collect your loot already?" you ask in a huff.

Vaako stood there, stunned. "If you mean did I come here to claim what is now rightfully mine, then yes, I have. And you are?"

"Princess y/n. I am, or was, Prince Irubaan’s wife."

"Commander Andromedus Vaako." Your lack of sorrow aroused his interest. "You are not in mourning for your husband?"

"I will not shed my tears for such a dreadful man," you snort as you study him quietly. The strange armour, oddly enough, suited him, as did the battle-hardened face. A very handsome, battle-hardened face, with kindly eyes. Odd, given he was one of them. "Are you the one that sent him off to the ether?"

Vaako looked at his chief lieutenant, utterly confused. "They believe souls go to this place of eternal rest," came the whisper. "They call it the ether."

The Underverse Vaako had seen evidence of, but the ether? "The Lord Marshal was right, they truly are a strange people," he whispered back before answering you. "Yes. I did indeed send your husband to the… ether."

"Hmph," you never look away or down, instead choosing to look him in the eyes. "I suppose you and your men would be staying for dinner?"

Your lack of fear only served to make him even more interested. Vaako was an invader, part of an army that destroyed millions of lives and reduced entire worlds to dust, and yet you talk to him like he was just another guest. No one had done that before.

And he was rather hungry.

"Yes," he said, never taking his eyes off of you. "We will be staying for dinner." ---*✧*---

While dinner was simple, conversation with the commander was not. "So your Lord Marshal is a holy half-dead?" you ask over your wine. "How is that even possible?"

"He had to travel to the Underverse itself," Vaako and the rest started on their food. "It is part of a test all Lord Marshalls must undergo, to prove themselves worthy of the title."

"I have heard of this Underverse," you say with a raised eyebrow. "I also hear your kind does not reproduce? Does this mean relations between mated pairs are prohibited? I mean, it would be a great pity to go to all that trouble of converting, only to spend the rest of your days in forced celibacy."

Vaako was more intrigued than offended by your free way of speaking. "Do not let the Lord Marshal catch you talking like that."

"And yes," Vaako continued. "Propagating the species is forbidden to us," he said archly. "However, physical relations are not."

"That is good then, for the life of a convert would have been one of abject misery otherwise."

"That impertinence of yours will get you into trouble one day."

"So my late husband kept telling me," you retort.

"Your late husband might not have wanted you to say something foolish." Vaako found himself more interested in talking to you and less interested in his food.

"And yet he was the one challenging a high ranking Necromonger to one-on-one combat. So who is the fool here?"

You were rewarded with a slight twitch in his lips. The others looked on, wondering what was going on.

"Him, most certainly."

"Indeed," you say, nodding and returning to your meal. "Speaking of your race, I also hear you keep what you kill? All of what you kill?"

"Indeed," Vaako said, growing oblivious to everything around him now.

"Even a fallen challenger’s spouse?" you asked nonchalantly, your pulse raising by the way he was looking at you, as if the the others did not exist to him. Even your late husband would never look at you that way.

Vaako, upon remembering there were others present, dismissed his men and the servants, leaving only the two of you at the table. "Yes, but only if the widow desires it, and only if the Necromonger is unattached."

Interesting, you think to yourself. "So no force?"

"Even we do not believe in force," Vaako said as he looked you over his goblet. "Not in such a delicate matter."

You simply smile and go back to finishing your meal, while a pair of rich brown eyes watch you the entire time.

---*✧*---

You take Vaako to his new rooms. "These are yours now."

He looked around, taking in the ambiance, the lack of anything feminine. Clearly only one person slept here. “These are not yours as well?”

“No. My rooms are in the other corner of the floor.”

The husband slept in one corner of the house while the wife slept in another corner. “Strange sort of marriage you had.”

You shrug and look around. “I simply made the most of my situation. Do you need anything else?”

“Yes,” The bed looked too big, and he wanted someone to talk to. “I would like it if you stayed here, and kept me company.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I would like for you stay here,” he repeated his words as he looked out the window, to the fields and valleys beyond. In a week, everything would be reduced to dust and ash, and he almost felt sorry for it. “And keep me company. Nothing more, I assure you.”

You raise your eyebrows and cross your arms. “Nothing more you say? You just want my company, you say?”

He smirked this time. “If you had to be around the lot I came with, you would understand.”

That gave you pause, for some of the others he came with were indeed dull. “Very well. I will change for the night and join you.”

---*✧*---

Vaako looked on with barely disguised amusement when you set up a line of pillows down the middle of the bed. “And these are for your protection? or Mine?” he said while watching you, taking in how your shift clung to you as you moved. “Or is this yet another odd custom of your world?”

“They are for my protection,” you say, although you find yourself regretting setting up the barrier. “If you get too close in the middle of the night I can bash you on the head with one.”

“Then perhaps I should have kept a panic button with me, so my men can save me from being drowned in goose feathers.”

His chuckle was echoed by yours. “Just stay to your side, please.”

“Fine,” he got into his side of the bed, while you get into your side.

You make yourself comfortable, while listening to the sounds of him settling in. “For how long will your Lord Marshall stay here?”

“A week, maybe a little more, if he hesitates in destroying your world,” Vaako said, as he looked up into the ceiling.

“A week, maybe a little more before this world is turned to ash?” You ask, shocked by the revelation.

“We do not tarry unless necessary,” Vaako could pick up the scent of roses filling the air. He found it was coming off of you. It appealed to him. “And we rarely tarry.”

“Never settling down, always on the move? A bit sad, no?”

“That is our way,” said Vaako, confused now as to what he was feeling. Why was he suddenly questioning what he was taught?

“Strange,” you say. “But I suppose I must accept, since I too will have to follow it now.”

Vaako went silent, only to look up when he heard steel panels moving. “What are you doing?”

“Looking at the night sky of my home-world, I will not see it again when I leave.”

You had opened up the skylights revealing a night sky dotted with a million stars. “Oh,” Vaako sounded relieved. “You wanted to just see the night sky?”

Did he think you were trying to attack him? “Yes, commander. I just wanted to see the night sky. If I wanted to attack you, you would not even know.”

He propped himself onto an elbow. “Oh really? This I would dearly love to see.”

A pillow hit him with a soft thud. “There,” you grin in the darkness. “Satisfied?”

Vaako grit his teeth. “That I was not prepared for,” he said. “Next time I will-- stop that!”

Another pillow, another soft hit. You were giggling now. “You challenged me! If you did not want to--”

The pillow striking you resulted in a pillow fight. “Get back here!” Vaako commanded as you shot out of bed, pillow in hand. “I am the commander and I order you to--”

You took off after playfully throwing the pillow at him. “Make me!” you cry as you run. Vaako straightened himself and chased you, all the while wondering why he enjoyed it so much.

He catches you just before you make it to the door. “That was uncalled for!”

“But you challenged me,” you giggle. “Let go of me.”

“Or what?” He refused to yield. “What will you do to make me let...”

---*✧*---

Your kiss caught him by surprise.

Vaako wanted to pull away but could not bring himself to do so. “Wha--”

His eyes looked down on you in shock. “Have you never been kissed?”

He brushed your hair back, marveling at how soft it felt. “Never.”

“That is too bad,” you murmur and pull away, only to find yourself being pulled back when Vaako drew you in for a kiss.

It felt awkward, clumsy. Vaako did not know what to do. “Sorry,” he mumbled as his nose kept bumping into yours. You grin, and place your hands against his cheeks. “Keep still.”

This time it was soft, hesitant. His lips brushed against yours, gently at first, his hands resting on your waist before his arms went around you completely. Vaako had never experienced anything like this before. Not the golden light that lit up behind his eyes, nor the heat that swelled up in his belly. His grip tightened like a vice, his moan as you melted against him was like music to your ears.

“Yes?” he mumbled as his kisses skimmed your neck, his body pressing up against yours when you grabbed onto his hair. This time you pull him up and bring your lips to his. “Please,” you breath. In one swift move, Vaako lifted you up and carried you to bed.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, with you straddling his lap.

"You have no experience at all?" You ask as you undo the lace ties on his tunic.

"None," Vaako kept still, his hands on your waist, his temple resting on yours. How wondrous, he thought, that the simple act of you undressing him was enough to make him go weak in the knees, how your very touch was enough to make his breath go ragged. "Perhaps... Perhaps you can teach me."

Perhaps you could. You slip the tunic off of him, your eyes resting on the hardened muscles they hid. How they fluttered beneath your touch. "So warm," he breathed.

Soft, warm palms drifted over the surface, fingers tracing lines over old scars, little imperfections on the skin. "Did these hurt?"

"They did," Vaako could feel his breath deepen when your hands neared his abdomen. "But not anymore..."

The barely audible curse stopped you cold. "Please," Vaako takes your hand into his, noting how it fitted perfectly with his. "Do not stop."

Feeling bolder now, you run your hands lower, to between his thighs. Vaako's eyes fluttered as you run a palm over his already erect cock. It felt good. So very good. Vaako fell back into bed, his hands on your waist, his eyes on yours as your hands rested on the top of his trousers. "Yes?" You ask.

He guides your hands to where he wants them to go. "Please."

The lacings were undone, and the deep, strangled moan you hear on that first stroke was intoxicating. Vaako simply surrendered body and soul to you. Surrendered himself to the current that wanted to sweep him away. Nothing in all of his life compared to this. Nothing in all the realms could compare to what you were making him feel, from the desire to wanting to lust. He savoured them all, hoping against all hope that he could experience everything with you, again and again, and again. His hands drifted all over you, gliding up your arms, all over your belly, caressing your breasts. His eyes locked with yours when he heard your breath catch, his arms manoeuvring you so he could be on top of you.

Vaako's full weight coming to rest on top of you caused a sigh to rise from your toes. Nervous hands tugged on the hem of your night-dress, pulling them over your outstretched arms and tossing them to the ground, leaving you exposed.

Vaako took in every inch of you, his eyes feasting on every part of your body. "You're beautiful, y/n. So beautiful."

Unable to help himself, Vaako lowered his head, his lips barely grazing over the soft swell of your breasts. Your skin felt so soft and fragrant that he grew bolder, gently nipping and sucking on an already taut nipple, while callused fingers played with the other. You cry out softly, your fingers bunching up in his hair, urging him to take as much as you gave until you pull him back up to crush your lips on his. His mouth felt so warm, his lips so soft, his tongue running against your lips, seeking entry. Arms pulling you up made you yield and you whimper into his kisses while his tongue flicked against yours. How a battle-hardened warrior could be so tender, you muse, as those sturdy arms now hold you like you were made out of fragile glass. So gentle he was, running his fingers up your spine, his kisses fluttering over your skin making you grow slick and hot.

Vaako felt you, all of you. How you whimpered when his teeth grazed your skin, how your breath would suddenly pull in deep whenever he squeezed your breasts, your fingers raking over his skin as lust overwhelmed you, and him. Grinding his hips into you convinced Vaako to take the next step and he went in slowly, moaning as he felt you sheath him with every inch he took. He stopped, wanting to make sure this was still what you wanted. Eyes darkened with lust greeted yours, while your own body was screaming for him to go on. "Do not stop," you press your lips against his as he pushed in deeper, going slow on that first thrust.

His moans match yours with each passing second, his cock going in deeper and deeper, bringing the both of you closer to the edge. Vaako would let out strings of curses whenever he felt your walls tighten around him, or your nails raked down his back. He would slow down at your urging, then pick up the pace again, his heart racing with every thrust, his body melting into yours as you kept crying out for him, his kisses finally drowning you out as his body gave you your release, his own following with a grunt and a final thrust when he felt himself empty inside of you.

The two of you cling to each other, exhausted and satisfied. Vaako gently eased you back into bed, taking you with him when he rested on his side. A palm resting on his heaving chest made him open his eyes, and he smiled when his gaze rested on you. You grow anxious as this could very well be the only time you have with him. He might lose interest or be expected to be with someone else. It would hurt too much, to see him with another. "What troubles you, y/n?"

He cupped your cheek gently, leaving little kisses as he held you closer. "Y/n, please tell me what troubles you."

You sigh but talk all the same. Better now than never. "What happened between us... Will I have to forget about it, about you, when I go onto that ship?"

He was stunned. Why would you ask such a thing after what the two of you shared? "No. Remember the motto of my people?"

"You keep what you kill." And Vaako killed your husband in honourable combat. That meant you were his.

"I keep what I kill," eyes filled with hope looked into yours. "And I want to keep you by my side, always."

It was your turn to grow stunned. "What?"

He kissed you again, this time with tenderness instead of passion. "Stay with me," he said. "Be mine. Be my lady. What do you say?"

You look up at him, certs in of your answer now. Your place was by his side, and no one else's. "Yes. I will be yours. From now till Underverse come."

Vaako broke out into the biggest smile you had ever seen. He kissed you again, watching you as you fell asleep. When he fell asleep it was with you in his arms and a smile on his face.

#count vaako #riddick #chronicles of riddick #count vaako x reader #vaako x reader #fanfiction #creative writing #writing #writeblr #imagines #goodnight #karl urban fanfic #karl urban x reader

94 notes · View notes

arlothia · 2 years

Note

How about some Jonathan and Dracula whump

Oooo!!! If you're asking if I'd like some, then absolutely!!! :P

But I'm assuming you're asking me for the content, and you know what? I might just do that! Since we didn't get to see the night or aftermath of the night dear old Drac said that Jonathan would be his, that might be a fun little filler scene to do...

Let's see, I'll probably want to do this more proper-like later, but how's this for some spitballing?

Jonathan awoke on his bed very muddled of mind and knowing something wasn't right.

It was just before dawn, as evident by the creeping light just beginning to emanate from his barred-window, but he had no memory of the previous night - the night the Count had declared to the three devilish women would be his (whatever hellish reality that might entail). The Count had as of yet made good on every threat he had made and Jonathan was sure such a claim as the one he had made the night before would not go unfulfilled.

So what, then, had transpired?

Sitting up, Jonathan felt the world around him shift, his sight blur and spin, and a faintness start to overcome him that would have sent him back down to his bed had he not found some small reserve of metal inside of him that urged him to not give up.

Closing his eyes against the onslaught of sensations, Jonathan wracked his brain for any shred of remembrance that might inform him as to the nature of last night's goings on, and was rewarded - or punished - with flashes of such ghastly things as would send him over the brink of sanity had he not already endured such horrible things already these past two months:

The Count's eyes staring as if into his very soul, darkness surrounding him, choking him as if given physical form; echoing laughter from unseen mouths, hands grabbing him, moving him, his body powerless to stop any of it. And then...pain!

Jonathan's eyes snapped open, breath coming fast and ragged, his hand immediately reaching up towards his neck where the phantom of pain still resided. Two small imperfections he felt under his fingers, spaced close together and even in size. What had caused them? What were their purpose?

Pulling his fingers away, Jonathan saw on them nothing - no blood as he had been expecting, for surely wounds as fresh as these would not have healed without even a scab so quickly! And of course there were no surfaces on which he might inspect them - that morning when the Count has flung his shaving mirror out the window seemed like an eternity ago.

And then more words came unbidden to his mind: "To-morrow night is yours." To-morrow! To-night! This very night Jonathan would be at the mercy of those three witches that dwelt with the Count and he was sure he would come out of that nightmare-meeting with many more wounds and even more ungodly memories, if, indeed, he should still retain his life!

Flinging himself off the bed, Jonathan was struck by how weak he was, for it felt as if his body lacked any strength whatsoever, as if his very life force was in the dregs. With naught the strength to do more, he sank to his knees in earnest prayer - begging for salvation, for an escape, or at least for the strength to withstand what was to come. And should all else fail? A swift and painless death.

#me #mine #anon #anonymous #ask #answer #dracula daily #what did you think??#not a whole lot of whump per se but a lot of angst! and I love me some fill-in-the-blank scenes!#congradulations! You've gotten me to write something for the first time in a loooooong time!! Way to go!! *high five*#whump #fanfiction #writing #I might expand this later or something - I'm not sure

13 notes · View notes

ladamedemartel · 8 months

Note

"There is a place people once intended to make into a home. Abandoned now. Knowledgeable minds gifted with magic will tell you in hushed breaths that there is something fundamentally wrong with this forsaken corner of the world. When they fail to detail the meaning behind their words you might discover that it isn't secrecy but inability holding their tongues. They don't understand the events that took place there nor do they understand what can still occur at this site. But exercise enough pressure and guile and you will be able to uncover a location that the world itself begs to forget. Visit and you will unavoidably realize there is still...Something roaming the heart of the place." A, swift sharp hunt appeared to be offered in order to add the proper adjective but if such descriptor existed, Tristan didn't know it. And so he offered none.

"It doesn't have a voice of its own although it is remarkably adept at mimicking others, including myself by the end of our encounter. It...Plays with those who reach its dominion. It is whispered that a prize of your choosing is the promised reward for those captured in the strange game." Tristan was still slowly returning from the Odyssey. Still relishing in the sight of Aurora with the endless hunger one cannot replicate. The feverish, conquering sentiment reserved to those who encountered their beloved after days that might have felt like harrowing eras.

"It sounds positively treacherous, does it not? A deceptive call for the naive and the desperate. Betting your life and perhaps quite a bit more on the improbable chance to beat some dark, unfathomable existence no one can commence to explain. And yet still, it wasn't desperation that guided me there. It wasn't a desire to cheat my way into some mundane victory. No. I only sough a small impossible that more natural means denied me for far too long." Tristan introduced a velvety case from the inside pocket of his suit.

"For you see, Rory: You are the most cherished part of my world. Your sight remains my favorite vision throughout eternity. Your voice, the dearest music that has ever enraptured me. You company, your very existence, the most irreplaceable of treasures. You are loved, Aurora. Beyond words, senses, limits or imagination. You are ardently loved. Passionately and endlessly. And while our centuries see plenty of our musings regarding mutual belonging and insinuation of vows, I believe I finally claimed the one gem worthy of serving as the closest, approximate symbol of what you mean to me. A small impossible, for the greatest, most irreplaceable of them all" Tristan showed no hesitation in gazing inside her eyes in never-ending correspondence.

"Have you ever wondered why, while these reaffirmations are pleasurably frequent between us, I never before reserved one for...The latest chapters of August? What was it that I was waiting for?"

The velvet box revealed its content. Elegant, crafted lines evoked the feeling of French Rococo. Anyone would have called the ring a clear, unique work of art. But it was the gem that ascended it into inexpressible beckoning. A radiance of green. Subtly but undeniably not quite like any other.

"You can exchange the one you are wearing for this one. If it happens to be to your liking." Tristan explained in a complicit shade of devilment.

A daylight right.

An emerald daylight ring. The first and only of it's kind. An unrepeatable trinket meant for his unrepeatable love.

The words were spoken without being spoken. In the candor of letting her know with the intense reassurance of a look how profoundly she deserved to be celebrated. Even if hearing of the occasion wasn't to her liking.

The happiest of birthdays, my beloved Rory.

Happy Birthday Rory 2k23! (even though you hate your birthday)

There was immediate concern on her features, at the sight of him; there was strain behind his eyes the likes of which she had scarcely seen before. Still, before she could rise to properly fuss over him, he'd begun to weave the most beautiful story. Tristan had told her once that their mother had a gift for telling stories. If it had occurred to Aurora to think of her more, perhaps she would have wondered if this was some trait that she'd passed on to her son, or if her skill diverted so from his. It didn't matter.

As Tristan wove his tale, Aurora resumed her perch on the chaise. Her eyes followed Tristan as he moved about the room, ardently professing his feelings for her, offering grandiose claims of his affection for her. His words were a splendid sonata on a summer evening, banishing away any insecurities that had threatened to stage a mutiny in absence of her steady captain.

He reached his point and with a theatrical flair that Aurora appreciated, produced a small ring box. It pleased her to see as Tristan always had such exquisite taste in jewelry, and, true to her expectations, the emerald inside took Aurora's breath away. The piece was truly magnificent.

She half reached for it when a thought occurred to her. Tristan was making these declarations of love that were far grander than usual. For a moment, Aurora grew concerned that he was about to ask that they get married. For real. Not simply claim to be married, present themselves to humans as a married couple, but to actually marry. The notion was quickly dispelled, however, by the reminder as to the day.

"Tristan, you've out done yourself."

#she's so pleased with her new ring #she's trying to convince me to wear a ring to bed #she assuring me that mine won't be as nice as hers but she thinks i should put in the effort #lordofthestrix

0 notes

dailytafsirofquran · 1 year

Text

Tafsir Ibn Kathir: Surah Al-Tawbah Ayah 41

In the Name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful.

9:41 March forth, whether you are light or heavy, and strive hard with your wealth and your lives in the cause of Allah.

This is better for you, if you but knew.

Jihad is required in all Conditions

Allah says;

March forth, whether you are light or heavy,

Sufyan Ath-Thawri narrated from his father from Abu Ad- Duha, Muslim bin Subayh, who said,

"This Ayah, (March forth, whether you are light or heavy), was the first part to be revealed from Surah Bara'ah.''

Mutamir bin Sulayman narrated that his father said,

"Hadrami claimed that he was told that some people used to declare that they will not gain sin (if they lag behind the forces of Jihad) because they are ill or old. This Ayah was revealed (March forth, whether you are light or heavy).''

Allah commanded mass mobilization together with the Messenger of Allah for the battle of Tabuk, to fight the disbelieving, People of the Book, the Romans, Allah's enemies. Allah ordained that the believers all march forth with the Messenger regardless whether they felt active, lazy, at ease or had difficult circumstances (March forth, whether you are light or heavy).

Ali bin Zayd narrated that Anas said that Abu Talhah commented (on this Ayah),

"Whether you are old or young, Allah did not leave an excuse for anyone.''

Abu Talhah marched to Ash-Sham and fought until he was killed.

In another narration, Abu Talhah recited Surah Bara'ah until he reached this Ayah,

March forth, whether you are light or heavy, and strive hard with your wealth and your lives in the cause of Allah.

He then said, "I see that Allah had called us to mobilize whether we are old or young. O my children! Prepare my supplies.''

His children said, `May Allah grant you His mercy! You conducted Jihad along with the Messenger of Allah until he died, then with Abu Bakr until he died, then with Umar until he died. Let us perform Jihad in your place.''

Abu Talhah refused and he went to the sea (under the command of Muawiyah) where he died. They could not find an island to bury him on until nine days later, during which his body did not deteriorate or change and they buried him on the island.

As-Suddi said,

(March forth, whether you are light or heavy), whether you are rich, poor, strong, or weak.

A man came forward, and he was fat, complained, and asked for permission to stay behind (from Jihad), but the Prophet refused. Then this Ayah, (March forth, whether you are light or heavy) was revealed, and it became hard on the people. So Allah abrogated it with this Ayah,

There is no blame on those who are weak or ill or who find no resources to spend, if they are sincere and true (in duty) to Allah and His Messenger..." (9:91)

Ibn Jarir said that Hibban bin Zayd Ash-Sharabi narrated to him,

"We mobilized our forces with Safwan bin Amr, who was the governor of Hims towards the city of Ephsos appointed to the Jerajima Christian expatriates (in Syria). I saw among the army an old, yet active man, whose eyebrows had sunk over his eyes (from old age), from the residents of Damascus, riding on his animal. I said to him, `O uncle! Allah has given you an excuse (to lag behind).'

He said, `O my nephew! Allah has mobilized us whether we are light or heavy.

Verily, those whom Allah loves, He tests them.

Then to Allah is their return and eternal dwelling.

Allah tests from His servants whoever thanks

(Him) and observes patience and remembrance of

Him, all the while worshipping Allah, the Exalted

and Most Honored, and worshipping none else.'''

Next, Allah encourages spending in His cause and striving with one's life in His pleasure and the pleasure of His Messenger,

and strive hard with your wealth and your lives in the cause of Allah. This is better for you, if you but knew.

Allah says, this is better for you in this life and the Hereafter. You might spend small amounts, but Allah will reward you the property of your enemy in this life, as well as, the honor that He will keep for you in the Hereafter.

The Prophet said,

Allah promised the Mujahid in His cause that if He brings death to him, He will enter him into Paradise. Or, He will return him to his house with whatever reward and war spoils he earns.

So Allah said;

Jihad is ordained for you (Muslims) though you dislike it, and it may be that you dislike a thing which is good for you and that you like a thing which is bad for you. Allah knows but you do not know. (2:216)

Imam Ahmad recorded that Anas said that the Messenger of Allah said to a man,

Embrace Islam, but the man said, "I dislike doing so.'' The Messenger said,

Embrace Islam even if you dislike it.''

#allah #quran #revert #dua #islam #help #religion #revert help #ayat #hadith #muslim #god #revert help team #pray #prayer #tafsir #salah #ramadan #zikr #surah

1 note · View note

wisdomrays · 1 year

Text

JAM' (Absorption): Part 2

From another point of view, the act of observing the requirements or responsibilities of servanthood to God with the utmost care, devotion, and consciousness is called "distinguishing," while being favored with a shower of Divine gifts that come unexpectedly as a reward for this "small capital"-small because the greatest capital is one's being favored by God-is absorption. In view of this approach, those who have attained a higher spiritual state have observed that one who does not perceive "distinguishing" is ignorant of servanthood, while one who does not feel absorption is unaware of knowing God.

The Qur'anic statement (1:5), You alone do we worship, which expresses the individual consciousness developing into and translating the public consciousness, is a voice of distinguishing and servanthood, while You alone do we ask for help (1:5) is an expression of absorption and a declaration of human poverty and helplessness before God. Every initiate hears the voice of distinguishing at the beginning of the spiritual journey, and feels the pleasure of absorption at the end of it. The ultimate point, which only those endowed with a particular capacity can reach, is "absorption within absorption" and the "holy absorption." While the former signifies God's concentration of the manifestations of His Names on a certain object, the latter is a sign of the manifestation of His Names throughout the universe.

According to Kashani, distinguishing is the knowledge of God the Almighty and spiritual pleasures of those who have not yet been able to develop their theoretical considerations about God (I personally find this view unacceptable), while absorption is immersion caused by a concentration on the Creator without ever thinking of the creation, and absorption within absorption is the peak of seeing the creation as subsisting by the Creator. This final rank is also the rank of distinguishing above absorption. Since in this rank only God's acts, Attributes and Essential Qualities are observed, the Absolutely True One, for those who have attained this rank, becomes the eyes with which they see, the ears with which they hear, and the hands with which they hold. For this reason, He attributes to Himself what they do by His will and leave and ignore the apparent causes. The Sufi scholars are of the opinion that the verse, (8:17), You did not kill them but God killed them, and when you threw, it was not you who threw, but God who threw, besides clearly mentioning a miracle of God's Messenger, upon him be peace and blessings, alludes to this rank.

Absorption can never mean the unity of being-the unity (union) of God and the universe or God's being identical with the universe-as pantheists claim, nor is distinguishing totally the opposite. The One Who is the Eternal is eternal, and the beings who are contained in time and come into existence within time are mortal and different from the Eternal One. The Creator cannot be and is not the same as the created. The relation between them is not that which comes from appearance; that is, the universe is not an apparent form of God. Rather, this relation is that between the Creator and the created. We can also see the creation as the totality of the manifestations of God's Names. These manifestations are completely pure and transparent, while that which issues from the created is usually tangible. Human beings have both a pure, transparent aspect or dimension, and a dense/tangible one. This is why, as declared in the verse (17:84), Each being acts according to his own standard of measure, they can display behavior either according to their bodily dimension or according to their spirit. As they are composed of a body, a carnal self, and a spirit, they fix their eyes on nature and corporeality, while they carry inclinations toward spiritual, exalted worlds as well. By means of the ways of rising which the Shari'a has appointed and guaranteed, travelers on the way to God cut their relations with fleeting and decaying things and turn to eternity. Whosever's breast God expands and opens to Islam follows a light from his Lord (39:22). So, when travelers to God turn to Him in submission, they travel in the exhilarating horizons with utmost self-possession and awareness under the guidance of the light of their Lord. Even though they may sometimes encounter confusion or bewilderment, they easily overcome these with the assistance of the never-deceiving leadership of the master of creation, upon him be peace and blessings. They always head for the sources of knowledge that God has determined and secured through Prophethood, and never fall into the errors committed by pantheists.

From another perspective, absorption has been dealt with under the rubrics of "absorption with respect to knowledge", "absorption with respect to existence", and "absorption with respect to the (Divine) Being Himself."

Absorption in knowledge means that at the beginning of their journey, travelers to God base themselves on the knowledge that comes from, or that is obtained through, the proofs and indications of God. Then this knowledge develops from the certainty based on knowing into a certainty based on observation and finally into a certainty based on experience. However, only a shadowy degree of certainty based on experience can be reached in the world. Ultimately, this knowledge becomes pure knowledge from His Presence. Although it is the result of following the way of inference, it is not the same as the knowledge acquired through a proof originated in the outer world or in the human inner world. Not is it totally different either. It is a special gift of the Almighty to the free will with which God has endowed human beings, and which is in fact a simple means given to them for the execution of the Divine commandments. However, like all other Divine gifts, this gift is never proportionate to our free will. Like it, all other gifts of God Almighty are many times greater than what we actually deserve.

Absorption with respect to existence is when the travelers to God are perfectly aware in their consciousness of how things and events occur and how they are maintained. All of existence disappears from their vision to the extent that they are no longer aware of which direction is right and which is left. The conquerors of the heart, who walk in this station, feel only the rays of the Eternal Holy Existence and Knowledge and see all else as the motions of these rays. Provided manifestation is not confused with appearance, and shadow with the original, those who have attained this horizon feel or hear innumerable things and/or beings in every part of the universe invoking His Name, saying, He is the All-Living, the Self-Subsisting (by Whom all subsist) (2:255).

Absorption with respect to the (Divine) Being Himself means that all the indications and proofs of God that originate in the outer and inner human world are no longer visible in the face of the light of knowledge of God and the spiritual pleasure that the Almighty lets flow into the hearts of travelers to Him. Some have regarded this rank as the final station of the spiritual journey. If they base this consideration on their constant turning to God during traveling from wakefulness to self-possession and thence to repentance, penitence and contrition one after the other, and on the relation between God and humankind as being the relation between the Creator and the created, and the Sole Object of Worship and the worshipper, and the Lord and the servant, there can be no objection. But, if they imply by absorption that things have no reality at all, and it is of no use or significance to use one's mental faculties to infer from things and events the existence of God and therefore to acquire certain knowledge about Him, and that people are no longer responsible for the fulfillment of religious obligations after reaching some point in the spiritual journey, and that there is essentially no difference between I and you and He, then this is most definitely a total deviation in conception and creed. This can be either a fantasy of those who are pursuing "originality" for the sake of fame or a view held by some self-conceited pantheists and monists.

As for the Prophets and the pure, saintly scholars, they have regarded the way leading to the Infinite One as endless, and have experienced the final station one can reach in the journey along this way according to their capacity with the same solemnity, wakefulness, and consciousness as they experienced the beginning. They have always accepted that serving the Truth with the utmost humility is the goal of their lives. The Almighty ordered the master of creation, the most perfect in servanthood to Him, Worship your Lord until what is certain (to come, i.e. death) comes to you (15:99). By this, He both emphasizes that death marks the end of this responsibility and consoles the Messenger for the afflictions and tortures he was subjected to by reminding him of his meeting with God. Because meeting with God meant for him reaching certainty based on experience in his own, unique level.

O God! Make us among those of Your servants who pursue sincerity, whom You have favored with sincerity and purity of intention, who have achieved piety and abstinence from all forbidden things big or small, and whom You have made near to You, and who are pleased with You and whom you are pleased with. And let God's blessings and peace be on our master Muhammad, the head of those whom You have favored with sincerity and purity of intention, and on his family and Companions, who were austere, near to God, and were pleased with Him and whom God was pleased with. Amen!

0 notes

steveezekiel · 1 year

Text

PRINCIPLES OF BIBLICAL SUCCESS: PATIENCE

35. "Therefore do not cast away your confidence, which has great reward.

36. FOR YOU HAVE NEED OF ENDURANCE, SO THAT AFTER YOU HAVE DONE THE WILL OF GOD, YOU MAY RECEIVE THE PROMISE:

37. "For yet a little while, and he who is coming will come and will not tarry [delay]."

Hebrews 10:35-37 (NKJV)

"Knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience [endurance or perseverance]."

James 1:3 (NKJV)

• Godly success is progressive! - No matter the effort or how hard you try, all you need would not be given to you at a time. GOD does things systematically and progressively.

- God may grant you speed in your journey in Life, or in the assignment given to you.

ALL things been equal, you may accomplish in a couple of years what some others have used any number of years to accomplish—because you are walking in a covenant with God.

BUT all the same, you will still have to pass the law of progression, a step at a time, because it is a cardinal law: "And the LORD your God will drive out those Nations before you LITTLE BY LITTLE; YOU WILL BE UNABLE TO DESTROY [consume] THEM AT ONCE, lest the beasts of the field become too numerous for you" (Deuteronomy 7:22).

- God did promise to give the Land of Canaan to the Nation of Israel, even with the backings of God and all the promises made by Him to their forefathers, that is, the Covenant He established with them; still they would not be able to take the land at a time—it has to be little by little.

- Whatever God has promised to do for you or give you, you should know that all will not come at once.

THE God we serve is the God Who usually started small and ended big: "THOUGH YOUR BEGINNING WAS SMALL, YET YOUR LATTER END WOULD INCREASE ABUNDANTLY" (Job 8:7).

• We have billions of people in the world today, but God did not start with the multitudes, He started with one Man and a Woman, Adam and Eve (Genesis 1:27,28).

- In a similar way, when God started small with you, He watched you for a while before He added to you another little, AND added another little, and keep promoting you until you become great.

- God will prove your heart, test you, that is, prove your reliability before He lifted you up: "But may the God of all grace, who called us to His eternal glory by Christ Jesus, AFTER YOU HAVE SUFFERED A WHILE [that is, after you have been tested], [then He will] PERFECT, ESTABLISH, STRENGTHEN, AND SETTLE YOU" (1 Peter 5:10).

- You learn endurance at the time of suffering, and that makes you strong and Wise.

YOU cannot claim you are wise when you have not pass through something in Life.

- Whatever you may be going through that may not be palatable is meant to produce a godly character in you—patience or any other fruit of the Spirit (James 1:3,4).

- Do not give up in whatever predicament you are, your change will surely come if you abide in Him and Walk in the light of His Word (John 15:7).

THE Blessing is around the corner, keep at it, it will come: "All the days of my hard service I WILL WAIT TILL MY CHANGE COMES" (Job 14:14).

- Some believers who are impatient have lost their blessings at the eve of their miracles.

IT is about to happen, do not give up, intensify your commitments in the LORD.

• Stay where God said to be, do not copy what someone else is doing—God has set a race before every individual, that is, He has different assignments which He wants everyone to fulfil: "... AND LET US RUN WITH ENDURANCE THE RACE THAT IS SET BEFORE US" (Hebrews 12:1).

- The purpose of God for each individual differs, thus, wait until God has brought His purpose about your Life to the fulfilment.

DO not compromise your faith by commiting sin.

DO not sell yourself cheap.

DO not steal nor be involved in any shady deal or business.

DO not falsify any account nor collude with others to cheat and swindle your Boss, Or the employer.

DO not sell your birthright because of a morsel of meal, remember Esau: "lest there be any fornicator or PROFANE PERSON LIKE ESAU, WHO FOR ONE MORSEL OF FOOD SOLD HIS BIRTHRIGHT" (Hebrews 12:16).

• You will not fail in Jesus' name.

Peace!

#christianity #christian living #christian blog #jesus #the bible

0 notes

imaginethebeautifulworld · 3 years

Note

Let’s say England has a long-term girlfriend he knows isn’t the biggest fan of marriage bc her family had been really really pushy (before she got the heck out of dodge) about her marrying + reproducing ASAP. How might he react if she came to him and said she was kinda starting to like the general concept of marrying him — that is, the whole ‘together forever’ bit. Thanks!

I confess darling that I have been trying to finish this prompt for well over a year, and I offer my sincerest apologies that it’s taken me this long to finish it. Still, despite my tardiness, I hope you enjoy, and I thank you for your patience with me.

You had never intended to fall in love, not with the constant push of your relatives to fall in line like a perfect child.

First, marriage to someone they deemed acceptable, raising the perfect 2.5 children, followed by quietly settling into parenthood and complaisant contentment until the day you last drew breath.

Truth of the matter was, you had avoided all chances of romance for the first few years after you moved away from home, carefully slipping away from anyone who seemed remotely interested in you.

You knew your folks would have disproved such behaviour had they learnt the truth, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to care. You had your own dreams to pursue, your own story to tell, your own life to live; you didn't need someone by your side to feel complete.

You were happy as you were, finding enjoyment in your work and figuring out your place in the world.

You didn’t need, or frankly want, anything more than that.

That was of course until you met him.

Falling in love with Arthur Kirkland had been a complete accident. He slipped past all of your defenses and took up residence in your heart as if he had always belonged there.

It started out slow enough; at first you simply knew him as a familiar face from the cafe in Waterstones, steaming cup of Darjeeling and a chocolate croissant sitting forgotten on the table in front of him, always too focused on his reading to pay any attention to the outside world. After one particularly crowded Sunday afternoon, he began to transition into your favorite dining companion, the two of you often taking turns paying for each other’s food. Slowly but surely, you began forgetting about your books, too wrapped up in conversation, and before you knew it-

You had come to love every part of him- the gentleman that you begrudgingly introduced to your parents, the rebellious and passionate activist, the cocky and playful little shit who had long ago memorised all the best ways to disarm you, and the ancient soul who cared so deeply, who still stretched himself thin most days in effort to protect each of his loved ones.

You fell in love with his voice, whispering sonnets and sonatas and sweet nothings in your ear while his arms cradled you from behind.

You fell in love with his eyes, still losing your footing sometimes when the light caught them just right, dreaming momentarily of summer forests and grassy glades and the misty dews of spring.

You fell in love with his smiles, from the satisfied grin at stirring up Peter’s ire to the breathless wonder each time you kissed or complimented him, to the bright, beautiful, blinding smile he wore when he was incandescently happy, his entire countenance iridescent from his joy.

You loved him completely- for his devotion, for his sweet gestures, for his damned impishness, for his wit, his sass, and the soft spoken affection.

You loved him: for his patience, for his recklessness, for his resilience, for his possessive pride that was somehow more charming than alarming.

He was unique, an enigma that, even after having lived together for years and dating even longer, kept you on your toes, his energy and random spouts of spontaneity proving to you that, even if you spent one hundred lifetimes with him, he would always remain a puzzle you would never fully solve.

And by God did you want to.

Arthur had stolen your heart away from you before you had even noticed he was close enough to take it, offering his own in its stead.

You had remained reluctant, confided in him your fears about settling down, how much you dreaded becoming trapped in a monotonous rut of tedium. He was quick to reassure you, showing through words and actions far more impassioned and teasing than he had ever shown prior, that an eternity with him could never be boring.

Even on quiet days, like today, with a steady drizzle painting the world in greys, Arthur humming quietly while adding another patch to his denim vest, and no other disturbance apart from the cat’s chittering at the robins playing in a puddle by the iron fence- Even now, you weren’t so much bored as you were pensive.

You had been thinking about a future with him a lot in the past few days, some irrelevant ad on your mobile about wedding venues catching your attention and slithering into the back of your mind.

What kind of wedding would he like? Would Arthur prefer something small and intimate, or would his hubris crave a larger venue, giving him yet another chance to prove to the world that he belonged at your side, no one else? You couldn’t help but wonder if he would wear his uniform or a suit, if he would leave the rats' nest he called a hairstyle untouched, or if he would perhaps slick it back in that way that somehow made the normal rakishness disappear, a confident, refined cavalier standing in his place.

You knew of course that none of this mattered unless you actually talked to him first; as far as you were aware, he was content with the current arrangement, and he respected your views of marriage.

He had known, for a long time, just where the grim outlook stemmed from, and he never breached the subject again.

But now-

You had thought it was enough to hold his love, his faith, his vulnerabilities. But life was so fleeting, and now those few things were no longer enough.

You wanted to wake up every morning next to him, wanted the cheesy partners’ towel and flip flop sets. You wanted the physical reminder that you held his heart, the comforting reminder that he completely possessed your own. You wanted to be by his side forever, holding his hand through the good and the ill, facing new worlds and challenges and the uncertain future together.

You knew the risks, of course.

Marriage to a Nation carried an even heavier burden than the simple oath of “till death do us part.”

No, marrying Arthur would mean weaving your entire lives together, binding you on a spiritual level far surpassing mortality; it would mean sacrificing your chance to ever grow old, to eternally give yourself away: heart, mind, body, and soul.

But this was Arthur, who sang showtunes in the shower, who spent hours making silly faces at the cat, who was ridiculously competitive about Halloween costumes, the man who sat down and memorised the entirety of The Tempest in one night just for the bragging rights.

He already owned your heart, constantly invaded your thoughts and daydreams, and God knew he had long, long ago claimed your body, making certain not a single millimeter of his new territory went unexplored.

Would it really be so bad to give him your soul, too?

Glancing back up, seeing his eyes narrowed in concentration, his fingers handling the needle with expert precision, lips slightly parted, reading glasses fallen halfway down his nose-

You knew your answer.

It was always going to be Arthur for you, only Arthur.

Forever, should he have you.

But now you faced the challenge of telling him that.

It should be simple enough; you really held no more secrets from him, and he no longer bothered trying to hide anything from you. You loved how open you were with one another, cherished the honesty that served as the very foundation to your relationship.

But the truth was that you were terrified.

It had been so long since either of you had spoken of marriage, since the topic was even a thought in your minds, and-

What if he didn't want you anymore?

What if he-

"I can see the steam coming outta your ears."

The unexpected presence of Arthur's voice startled you, eyes darting back over to the very man who was unwittingly tormenting you.

He had barely moved from his earlier position, though his glasses had been pushed up into his hair and he was studying you curiously, if not bemusedly.

"You good there?"

By default, you nearly responded with an affirmative, some playful, lighthearted thing that would have dismissed his concern immediately. You cut yourself off mid-start, then, while shifting to sit properly in the armchair, you decided to push forward. "Can we talk?"

You watched as his expression shifted, revealing his concern as he tied off his thread, setting aside the patchwork and gestured for you to join him on the sofa.

There were a few awkward moments where you took up your favourite positions, Arthur tossing an afghan across the pair of you despite your insistence that you didn't need one, the flicker of a grin as you begrudgingly thanked him, and then shifting around as you both got comfortable, but soon enough-

"Alright, now; talketh at-eth me."

It was impossible to fight the smile his choice of words triggered, a reference to an inside joke so old now that you could scarcely recall its origin. Seeming to deem it a success, his own soft, reassuring smile greeted you.

"Seriously though, luv-" His hand came to rest atop your own, his fingers gently tapping a familiar rhythm against your skin. "What's troubling you?"

You were half-tempted to offer something short of sincerity, something innocuous and mundane that you could both laugh over and forget again within a few hours. Yet, you knew that if you didn't tell him now, didn't ask him now, you would never find the courage again.

"I've been thinking-"

"Ah. A scary premise in its own right."

"Oh, shut up," you retorted to his tease, smacking his arm for his troubles. He rewarded you with a grin, all fondness and mischief. Opting to ignore him, you pressed on, eyes downcast to avoid whatever judgement he may offer.

"As I was trying to say earlier, before I was so rudely interrupted-" The teasing fell off, and the worry crept back in. "I've been thinking. About us."

"O-oh?"

Were you not so consumed by your own anxieties, you would have noticed his stutter, would have seen the sudden tension in his posture, the fear in his eyes. As it was, you were completely oblivious to all of it, and made yourself continue at his prompting.

"I- I think I'm ready."

He mimed the word "ready" to himself, parroting it with utter befuddlement. "For wha-"

"I mean, I know I wasn't for such a long time, and-" Suddenly, you were off, half unhinged. Now that you had admitted the truth aloud, it was all rushing out of you, everything you had come to love about him, everything that-

A finger pressing firmly against your lips stopped you mid-tangent, and when you glanced up to find piercing, blazing emerald focused on you as if you were the very center of the universe, whatever remained of your ramblings disappeared entirely.

"What are you trying to say?"

A simple question, so easy to answer, yet it carried with it the weight of Infinities, demanding nothing save the truth, in its most basic state.

You were lost in his gravity, half-drowning in whatever this new feeling was. It was addicting, another riddle to be solved.

"Marry me."

Time stood still, the words weighing heavily in the space between you, now seemingly insurmountable despite being no more than mere decimeters.

Arthur showed no reaction, revealed no indication that he had even heard your plea, your query, your command, your request, and yet it echoed over and over in your own mind, the tone, the weight, the untimeliness-

Every facet- from your inflection to chosen tempo- crescandoed as an accusation, a mocking symphony that he would reject you, that you would be left with only the haunting strains of your ill-conceived proposal.

And yet-

There was a hesitation in his eyes, the face of a man who wanted wholeheartedly to believe what he had heard, but had been burned far too often in the past to dare allow himself hope.

"You-" His eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowed as he studied you once more, only for the suspicion to disappear again almost immediately, disbelief swiftly taking its place. "You're serious?"

It was then that you finally read his nervousness, understood the strange emotion reflecting in his eyes.

You had lead him to a precipice, the vast Unknown before you both, and-

And he was just as fragile as you were, even if he was better at hiding it.

You gave his hand a light squeeze, hoping to ground you both, and offered him a nod. “If you’ll have me, anyway.”

His eyes flickered between your own, darting back-and-forth so quickly in search of a lie, of any doubts, of any hint that you were less than certain- yet you knew he would find none of that.

“What about your family?”

The question took you by surprise; in the moment, you had completely forgotten anyone else even existed.

You weighed his question carefully. Marrying Arthur would give your family leave to gloat in self-satisfaction, and you knew with absolutely certainty that they would hold it over your head for the next three decades. But looking into the eyes of the man before you, remembering all that you had already seen and done together, you found that others' opinions no longer mattered, really hadn't mattered in a long, long time.

“I couldn’t care less about them. Arth-”

Whatever you were going to say was forgotten as he closed the remaining distance between you, moving so swiftly that you scarcely had a moment to steady yourself before he captured you in a searing kiss, one of his most passionate by far.

Somehow, despite the suddenness of it all, the initial force, the intensity-

He was being incredibly gentle, and moving slowly enough to almost be more a torment than a treat. Almost.

You found yourself lost in a daze when he finally pulled away, just enough for each of you to catch your breaths, just far enough that he could study you with rapt attention. You could have drowned in his eyes, endless greens magnetizing in their intensity. His hands were still cradling your cheeks, still holding you firmly in place, a not completely foreign expression creasing his features.

You couldn't quite place it, even as your memories shifted desperately in search of its mate.

"'If I'd have you?'" His words, a rhetorical refrain of your own mere moments earlier, were scarcely a shared breath between you, murmured in timbre so low it summoned a shiver. There was the smallest twitch of his lip, his head tilting ever so slightly as more of that damned deviousness made its presence known. "I fully intend to have you regardless, luv. But the formality of it all certainly adds a particular je ne sais quoi, wouldn't you agree?"

You'd be damned if he knew just how that made your heart flutter, if he knew just how much weight that reassurance had lifted from your shoulders.

Carefree, content, you offered a playful smile. "Till death do us part then?"

Arthur no longer bothered trying to restrain his smile, soft and sincere in a way that left you breathless. "I'll love you till even the stars go cold, my dear."

Thanks for reading~

#england x reader #aph england #arthur kirkland x reader #hello lovelies~!#hws england #hetalia england #aph arthur kirkland #hetalia arthur kirkland #hws arthur kirkland #reader insert #hetalia x reader #hello lovelies!#readerfic #thanks for reading!#aph england x reader #hetalia england x reader #hws england x reader

328 notes · View notes

zafirosreverie · 3 years

Text

Share my infinite (Agatha x Fem!reader) Part 2

A/N: This is long, guys. But i didn't want to do two parts for this, since i still have to do another one for the reader's recovery. Also, I have a huge headache, so forgive any mistakes.

Anyway, i hope you like it! ^ - ^

You ran as fast as you could, voices screaming with rage behind you. They will kill you.

“Shit” you growled when you tripped with a branch. You got up quickly and continued running, but that second was enough for the dogs to come closer to you. Those stupid dogs and their stupid owners, why couldn’t they leave you alone?! You didn’t do anything to them and yet they were hunting you, just because of your “family”.

“I don’t even have the last name” you mumbled.

You were part of a rich family that was respected among the people of your town, but you were never a part of it. You were the odd one, the freak, the mistake. You were the only one that inherited your grandfather's...condition.

At some point in the family’s story, someone thought it was cool and a good idea messing up with dark magic and ended up marrying a vampire, condemning the entire lineage to fear for the purity of their blood. By the time you were born, that was just a legend, something the parents told their childs to make them behave.

“Y/N, stop doing that” your mother would say. “It must be the vampire in her” your father would add.

You were a pretty curious girl, which led to many misbehaviours, so you heard that phrase too often.

“Wish something really hard and it will become a reality” you thought with sarcasm.

When you were 8, the nightmare began. You had just lost your baby teeth and your new ones were appearing. Your parents thought it was cute, but then, your new fangs came and they screamed in horror. They were too long to be normal. They were like your grandfather’s. They were vampire’s fangs.

At first, they tried to pull them out, it hurted like hell, but they didn’t move. So, your parent’s kept you hiden, not even the rest of the family could see you (you would later hear that they didn’t want to). The only person that you were allowed to interact with, was the grandfather himself. He was actually your great great great great great great grandfather, but allowed you to call him Grandpa or Grandfather. Your parents decided that you were no longer their daughter, so he gave you his last name. His real one.

He was sweet and nice with you, teaching you how to retract your fangs and everything he knew about your condition. He told you that you shouldn’t worry, that it was something that happened every generation. Your uncle Nicholás had it too, so it wasn’t anything you couldn’t control.

What he didn’t tell you was that uncle Nick was burned alive for it.

You weren't a full vampire, you only had a few remnants of vampire blood in your veins. Grandpa was sure that, with every generation that had the condition, it became weaker and weaker, so he had faith that you would be the last one to have it. And he was right.

You were the last one. None of your nephews or nieces got it, nor their children or grandchildren or great grand children. You were there for the babies’ births, and for their deaths too. Generations came and went, but you remained the same. You stopped aging at 22, and were trapped like that ever since. Your grandfather died long after your great grand nephews did, but it proved that you were not eternal.

As the years passed, you became kind of a myth among the family, the maiden who didn't age. The ghost of the library. The shadow of the house. Generation after generation, you became just another part of the family heritage, something that came with being part of the Van Dales. Everyone treated you like another decoration.

Until now.

These new people (you had stopped thinking of the new generations as your family long ago) decided it wasn’t fair that you got to enjoy all the money while they had to die. It was a stupid argument, but that didn’t matter. You knew they just wanted to get rid of you. And that’s what they did.

They spread the word around the town, that whoever brought your head to them would be rewarded with part of the family treasure. You barely had time to grab a small bag with your belongings (the ones you had since you were a child) before you were carried out of the house and into the woods.

They didn't tell you why, just to wait and they left you there. A few minutes later you heard the footsteps of the people and a man saying that he would be the one to kill you and claim the reward.

You started running in that very second.

“don’t change, don’t change, don’t change” you begged, feeling your eyes burning.

One of the things that you learnt the hard way was that when you were in danger, your e/c eyes would change to dark red, and then you would go into a frenzy. That meant you would become a murder machine, and you didn’t want that even if it was your last hope.

“Of all the things I got from the vampires, why couldn't it be super speed?” you thought as you heard the men coming closer. Your legs were burning and your lungs were about to explode.

You weren’t paying much attention, so you didn’t notice the air changing nor the energy around you. You needed to escape.

You tripped again and you cursed. But you couldn't hear the dogs or the men anymore. You lost them? How? They were right behind you, there was no chance that you could have lost them.

But you needed to rest so you weren't complaining at all. It didn't last for too long.

You heard a leaf crushing and steps close to you. You stood up quickly and prepared to run again, but something stopped you. You couldn't move, as if your feet were glued to the earth.

"Well, well. What do we have here?" A voice said behind you. You froze and your eyes started to burn again. The person walked around you and you saw the most beautiful woman ever. Her eyes and hands were glowing with a purple light and suddenly you understood why you couldn’t move. She was a witch.

Your grandfather taught you about witches, saying that, just like you, they were usually misunderstood, and that you shouldn’t be afraid of them. Even if you ever meet an evil witch, the vampire blood in you would protect you. The fact that her magic had an effect on you, meant that she actually didn’t want to hurt you.

"Aren't you a precious little thing?” she asked and you couldn’t help but notice how lovely her voice was. “What are you doing here, darling?”

You opened your mouth but closed it again. There was so much to explain but words didn’t come to you at the moment. You remained silent for a few moments before trying to speak again.

“I- I escaped” you whispered, making the woman raise her eyebrow.

“escaped? from what?” she asked, stepping closer to you.

“Men” you simply said. Her presence was making you nervous and you felt your cheeks blushing.

Your answer seemed to be enough for her and she nodded, unwrapping you from her magic.You noticed her eyes turned to an ice blue color and you gasped. They were the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Y/N”

“Y/N” she repeated and your heart jumped a little. You loved the way your name sounded in her voice. “Come with me” she said and started walking. You blinked and stood there for a moment before you quickly followed her. You didn’t know her, but it was this witch or the hunters.

They didn’t have beautiful blue eyes or a lovely voice. So the choice was easy.

She took you to a small cabin, surrounded by big trees and a little pond on the side. You blinked and blushed as she opened the door for you. The simple interior made you feel warm and protected. She saw you wandering around the room, watching her things carefully, not touching anything but being interested in them.

You noticed her smile and stopped walking, taking a step back. She was staring at you as if you were her prey, which, to be fair, might be the case.

“Didn’t anyone tell you that you don’t follow strangers into their houses, love?” she finally asked after a long moment of just staring at you.

Agatha was intrigued by you. You shouldn't be here. You shouldn’t have been able to pass the barrier she put around her house, not even other witches could do it. But most importantly, you shouldn’t be standing there as if you were comfortable in her presence. As if you weren’t afraid of her.

“I’ve been living with strangers for a long time” you said honestly and shrugged “i guess i’m not afraid of them anymore”

That made Agatha even more curious. She walked to you and locked eyes with you. You were a little surprised by it, but you didn’t look away.

“You’re like me” she said softly, and you shrugged again.

“I guess so?”

The witch didn’t want to have high hopes, but she had been alone for almost 200 years now and the possibility of having some company was enough to let you stay some days. At least until she discovered more about you and how much power you had.

_________

“Don't” Agatha warned you, not lifting her eyes from her book “whatever you’re thinking, don’t”

You giggled and ignored her “I’m not doing anything, Aggie” you lied and she sighed.

She was about to turn around to see what you were planning, when she felt your cold hands in the back of her neck, making her jump.

“Y/N!!!” she yelled and you laughed, watching her shivering.

“Got ya!” you said when she turned to face you

“Those are ice! Are you sure you’re not dead?” she asked with sarcasm and fake anger, but the blush on her cheeks gave her away.

“Could be. I haven’t checked my pulse today” you joked and she chuckled.

You had been living with her for a year, and she had fallen head over heels for you. You were sweet, charming, always had a smile on your beautiful face and you were always finding ways to make her laugh. You were kind and loving towards her, making her loneliness fade away.

But you were also naughty as hell.

You loved making pranks, jokes and chaos. She was your favorite target, but it was something almost innocent, nothing that a child couldn’t do (a part of her knew it was because you were forced to grow up too quickly, so you were just doing what you wanted to do back then), but that benevolence didn’t extend to other people.

Your pranks and jokes were anything but innocent when the targets were people from the town near the forest. It made sense, because they were the same people that tried to kill you a year ago. But you once told her that you actually just enjoyed causing chaos, which made her fall in love with you even more. She loved being by your side whenever you caused something among the humans. It was a magnificent artwork, a chaotic, kind of evil, maniac, artwork. And it had both of your signaments in the corner.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice you talking to her. When you looked at her and saw that you had lost her at some point, an evil grin appeared on your face. Well, you were not a person that decline opportunities.

Agatha gasped when you pushed her to the pond.

“Y/N!!!!” she yelled again and you laughed harder.

“That’ll teach you not to ignore me when I’m trying to declare my love for you, Harkness” you joked and walked to the house.

The witch sighed as she stood and used her magic to dry herself. That has been your most cruel joke to this day.

When she met you, she assumed you were a witch. You crossed her barrier, after all, so you must be a powerful one. But when she tried to steal your magic when you were asleep, she sensed it was too weak, she could barely call it magic at all.

That confused her so much. How did you cross then? This amount of magic was not enough to do it. The next day, she confronted about it and you just blinked.

“You think i’m a witch?” you asked before you giggled “I’m a vampire” you said and left her speechless.

You taught her everything you knew about your condition, but it wasn’t too much since your family just wanted you to hide yourself. So she tried to learn everything she could about vampires. You frowned and said that if she was going to learn about your kin, then you wanted to learn about hers.

And just like that, your lessons started. The first days, you two sat at the table with a pile of books in front of you, but that plan disappeared the moment you saw her stretching to make her back more comfortable. You took the books and threw them on the floor, making Agatha gasp, then you took her hand and made her lie beside you on the wood. You’ve never used chairs for study or reading since then.

The joke started when she started to teach you some tricks. They were pretty simple and basic, but she loved the look in your face when you got one of them right. One day, you were so happy to finally do a spell you were trying for weeks, that you kissed her cheek with excitement and her mind went blank, her cheeks burning. You noticed it and never let her live with it.

Since then, you would make comments or do things that made her believe you might feel the same, but then you would just laugh and leave her with a hole in her chest.

“Aggie?” you asked softly. You had noticed that she didn’t follow you and after a moment, you went out again to make sure she was okay. You frowned when you saw her just standing there, lost in her thoughts.

You carefully took her hand and she jumped, looking at you.

“Are you ok?” you asked and she nodded, removing her hand from yours.

“I’m fine, Y/N” she said and your frown deepened. She never used that tone with you. The “I have something in my mind but you wouldn’t understand so let’s pretend i’m alright” tone. You took her face in your hands and made her lock eyes with you.

“Don’t lie to me” you whispered

Agatha stared at you for a moment before she sighed. She couldn’t. She always thought she was strong enough to lie to everyone, to take what she needed and do what she wanted. But you, you made her weak. And she would do anything for you. Even expose her heart and let you break it.

“Please don’t do it” she said “please don’t make jokes about your love for me. Not when we both know you don’t mean it.”

You frowned again in confusion, but when you understood her words, you blushed and felt your pulse racing.

“Who said i don’t mean it?” you asked softly, caressing her cheek.

“NO!” Agatha said, more harsh than she intended “Don’t do it Y/N.” she said, whispering again “Please. Don’t give me false hopes. I can’t take it” she begged and you felt guilt invading you.

You had been making those jokes because they were the only way you could get your own feelings out of your chest without actually risking your friendship with the witch. If you had known she felt the same way…

Agatha gasped when she felt your lips against hers. She wasn’t expecting this, but she had been wanting to do it for so long that she took the opportunity. She wrapped her arms around your waist and pulled you closer to her. Your lips were too soft and she would be happy to lose herself in them.

“I’m sorry” you whispered when you broke the kiss “I’m sorry i didn’t tell you before”

That made her open her eyes. There was a silent question in them, and only your own eyes had the answer.

You kissed her again, and again, and again, wanting to erase all the doubts you accidentally planted in her mind. Each kiss was an apology and a promise. No words were needed at that moment.

#x reader #reader insert #imagine #agatha harkness #agatha harkness imagine #agatha harkness x reader #agnes imagine #agnes x reader #marvel #mcu #wandavision imagine #agatha harkness x y/n #agatha harkness x you

191 notes · View notes

stuckonstarker · 3 years

Text

only a kiss

Months of brewing feelings bubble up to the surface as Peter and Tony share a kiss on movie night.

Tony didn’t think much of it when he invited Peter over for a movie night. It was a simple break from their respective responsibilities as Spider-Man and Iron Man. He figured they both deserved it; an hour or so of mindless entertainment with each other’s company.

Maybe he should’ve been more privy to it, though. The way the air shifts when they’re together. He might’ve been able to avoid the inevitable for a little longer, then.

Peter has grown into Tony’s equal. No longer is he the nerve-wracked kid being mentored by Tony. No, now he’s an adult with a certain ease to him that wasn’t there merely a year prior.

They both acknowledge this development in a silent agreement.

Tony notices that Peter’s once soft features have sharpened. His jawline is much more defined, his eyes less reserved and more emboldened, and his lips often upturned in a subtle smile that brims with confident mischief.

He has an elegant way about him now as he walks with his head held high and he says things with steadfast conviction.

As Peter changed with the seasons so too did Tony’s opinion of him. From a young boy, shy and anxious, to a man, self-assured and sensible.

The shift in Tony’s opinions was inconsequential at first. Nothing more than a mere whisper, the tiniest spark of something wholly imperceivable at the time.

But, as the whisper got louder and the flame grew, Tony came to realize the pleasant warmth in his chest was something else entirely. Something much darker, much more depraved, than the mentorly affection he had previously mistaken it for.

It seemed harmless enough, though, to briefly indulge in the sensual pleasure Peter provides. Only a quick kiss to the forehead or a hug that goes on a second too long.

Tony continued to fan the flames, unaware of how truly bad his passionate need for Peter was getting. But there was something in Tony, almost primal, that demanded he get closer with Peter. To carve an irreplaceable slot for himself in Peter’s life.

Peter seemed to have no objections to that; for no matter how much Tony wanted to take, Peter was willing to give.

Tony seemed to have found a balance. As he restricted himself just enough to avoid hurting his protege while also having enough connection to satisfy that cruel whisper within him.

It was working quite well for a while.

And then Peter began reciprocating Tony’s subtle affections.

Thus began months of them sharing lingering stares full of longing; quiet giggles and inside jokes they never bothered to include others in; compliments that edge just on the border of inappropriate. Nothing ever explicit, but the implications clear enough.

It was always a fine line, Tony realizes, they were always a step away from disaster. So, he should’ve expected this - he really should’ve - but denial is such an intoxicating drug.

The mood around them both is often infected with their want for one another; poorly concealed and hard to resist. Even with something as simple as a movie night, there’s an unmistakable longing in the air.

So, it truly didn’t take much.

They laughed together. Tony held Peter close; so close you’d think they were trying to merge into one. Peter shifted so he was in Tony’s lap - to which Tony had no complaints - and the laughter continued.

The air of ease allowed them to forget the act. As they laid in one another’s arms the rest of the world began to melt away, allowing for their inhibitions to leave them.

So now, after months of impatient buildup, Peter’s straddling Tony and their faces are mere inches apart. Tony’s hands rest on Peter’s hips as he relishes in the sweetness of their bond. He doesn’t allow his hands to drift, however - a futile, last ditch attempt to convince himself that their relationship is just platonic.

The darkness of the room makes it easy for Tony’s resolve to crack, though, as he feels himself being drawn to Peter. A magnetic force that overtakes both of them. There’s a sensual warmth that floods their minds, washing out any rational thought.

Peter’s nose touches Tony’s.

A brief panicked thought of ‘This isn’t right!’ flashes through Tony’s mind before it’s aborted just as suddenly.

Any logical thought Tony might have is dashed by the alluring nature of Peter’s plush, pink lips that whisper his name so delicately:

“Tony.”

He finds himself swallowing around his nervousness. He quite honestly can’t remember the last time someone made him feel such a way, he must’ve been a teenager; much like Peter is currently, his brain supplies quite unhelpfully.

He asks, “Yes?”

“Will you do me a favor?” Peter asks.

Tony nods.

Peter whispers, “Kiss me. Just once.”

Tony feels his grip on Peter tighten ever so slightly. This desperate yearning inside him screaming to do as Peter says, but still, he has a smidge of morality left. While Peter is technically legal, Tony can’t imagine a world where this relationship would ever be right.

Peter notices this hesitation with a small smile, “It’s only a kiss, Tony, just one. That’s all I ask from you right now.”

They’re so close, Tony realizes suddenly, but he doesn’t make a move to change it. He doesn’t want to. And he’s still a selfish, selfish man, so he allows himself this contact.

His heart lurches, stutters to what feels like a stop, before picking up pace and battering against his ribcage.

All at once, Tony is forced to admit that he wants and he wants badly. And that Peter wants just as badly as well. That there is not a feeling on Earth that could ever compare to being within Peter’s comforting embrace.

“I can’t kiss you,” Tony says, “I… don’t deserve it.”

Peter says, “Oh, but you do.”

The room is dark, illuminated only by the TV playing a long-forgotten movie. It’s silent, save for their breathing. They’re shrouded in an aura of years of pining and want and need. And, maybe at this moment, Peter can convince Tony to take what he wants so desperately.

Tony moves a hand cautiously to Peter’s beautiful curls and it feels like silk to the touch. Peter smiles at the contact, making a noise of contentment.

And then, in a move that’s just as slow as it is swift, Tony guides Peter’s lips toward his and, before those pesky thoughts of right and wrong can object, they are locked in a kiss.

It’s soft and sweet, much like Peter himself. It feels like they’re lips are dancing, they move together in perfect sync and harmony. It’s bliss, Tony must admit, to finally claim the reward he’s been refusing himself for so long. To finally indulge in Peter’s sinfully sweet taste.

The pace is slow as they both take their time basking in the electrifying pleasure that comes with such love. Everything about their movements is gentle, testing the waters and pushing their preconceived boundaries.

Tony’s hands move to Peter’s thighs and Peter holds the sides of Tony’s face as their lips glide together. And, much braver now, Tony tenderly nips Peter’s bottom lip as if asking permission for more. Permission which Peter grants as his lips part like a delicate flower blooming.

Tony’s light-headed from want as his tongue swipes along Peter’s; the action so overwhelmingly intimate that it sends shockwaves through him. Peter moans desperately into the kiss and Tony hums back, acknowledging his sweetheart's want.

They’re clinging to each other, becoming one and whole together. It’s perfect, it’s everything they’ve ever wanted and more. But, like all good things, it must come to an end.

They pull from each other slowly. It’s like time itself has come to a stop as they look into each other's eyes, foreheads touching.

They, shrouded in darkness and overflowing with warmth and want, stare longingly into one another’s eyes for what seems like an eternity. Everything melts away and the only thing that matters now is them and only them.

They’re both panting and overheating.

Peter, out of breath, scoffs a laugh and - before he can stop himself - whispers: “I love you.”

The words are raw with real want and emotion. His body so filled to the brim with joy it needed to be expressed somehow. And what way better than such a pure confession?

The silence that fills the room is deafening, as if even the universe itself is watching with bated breath waiting to see what will happen next.

Everything moves in slow motion as they both come to their separate realizations.

Peter; who’s just realized how much those words weigh, how much he truly means them as well, how his heart - for so long - has ached to be close to Tony, and how he would do anything if it meant he got to spend the rest of his life held in Tony's tight embrace.

He feels like he could fly.

Tony; who realizes how far gone he truly is, how selfish he is, how even when he tries he can’t help but mess everything up, how this was all a mistake from the very start, and how he should’ve never recruited Peter - should’ve never taken such a bright flame in just to snuff it out.

He feels like he could die.

“I think you should go,” his voice strangled as the words are ripped from his throat by force.

In an instant, Peter pulls back - his eyes wide in disbelief.

He hesitates for a moment before asking, “what?” because he surely must’ve heard wrong, because surely Tony didn’t say what Peter fears he said.

Tony sighs, the words even harder to say the second time, but he resolves himself, “You should go, Pete.”

Peter scoffs, for real this time, and says, “You’re kidding me, right?”

He’s straddling Tony’s legs, still dizzy from the kiss and, yet, Tony has the gall to say:

“I’m not, Peter, you need to leave.”

“Why?” Peter asks, keeping his voice steady and hardening his stare. He refuses to be sent away so simply without even an explanation.

Tony huffs in frustration; telling Peter to leave was already so difficult enough and now, like usual, he has to deal with the boy’s stubborn attitude.

Tony's not quite sure what to say to express his dilemma. There are millions of thoughts racing through his head - millions of things he wants to say.

Instead, he settles on, “Because I said so.”

He then goes to remove Peter from his lap; a rapid series of bad decisions he will soon realize as Peter - who’s finally reached his breaking point - uses the tiniest fraction of his super strength to keep Tony’s legs and arms pinned.

“No,” Peter says, jaw clenched, “I’m not leaving until you tell me why.”

A tiny flame of lust flickers within Tony at this predicament, but he stomps it out with his indignation.

Tony says, “Because this isn’t what we are.”

Peter laughs humorlessly, “Well, then, what are we?”

“Coworkers,” Tony says plainly.

Peter says, “Oh, yeah, I forgot coworkers have makeout sessions all the time.”

“It was just a kiss,” Tony says, “it didn’t mean anything.”

He didn’t mean it; regrets it the second the words leave his lips. But he’s said it, released those words into the air and they hang there for a moment. And a much thicker, tenser silence fills the room. They stare at each other as time seems to stretch out endlessly. And, then, something in the air snaps.

Peter releases his hold Tony and he breathes deeply.

“...Is that really how you feel?” He asks quietly.

Tony can feel every ounce of his body screaming ‘No!’ but he can’t keep Peter trapped here. It’s wrong, immoral, and selfish.

He’s caught between his aching for Peter’s soft, loving touch and his need to keep Peter protected. Protected from himself, it seems.

It’s not fair how he has to be the one to send Peter away, Tony thinks, but then again when has anything in his life ever been fair?

So, resigning himself to a desolate fate, he sighs, “Yes, Peter.”

It’s silent, again, for a moment as Peter turns away from Tony’s gaze. Clear as day, the expression of hurt seeps into his beautiful honey eyes. His lips quiver ever so slightly and he nods with the same forlorn acceptance of someone who’s in mourning. And Tony wants nothing more than to wrap Peter up in a comforting hold - to tell him that everything will be alright - but he’s perceptive enough to know that would only hurt Peter more.

“If that's what you want,” Peter says, voice shaking.

All of Peter’s certainty evaporates. He can feel himself crumbling, helpless to do anything about it. He’s not quite sure what to do next except for leave like Tony had said.

So, he removes himself from Tony’s lap robotically; his body moving on its own as if he’s been possessed.

The edges of his vision blur and darken as the world around him begins to fall apart.

He spares one last glance at Tony - who, on the outside, looks quite unbothered by this whole situation while Peter’s quite obviously unraveling at the seams - before getting in the elevator and shakily pressing the button for the main lobby.

The elevator doors close and the sorrowful darkness attacks Peter. He can feel himself drowning in an endless ocean of grief; being pulled around by the tides and completely helpless to do anything about it.

Every part of him is aching, the pain almost choking him, and it fills him until he’s overflowing in the form of tears spilling from his eyes.

He holds himself and sits in a corner of the lift as tears stream down his face.

Anguish builds in Peter’s throat and comes out a broken sob, “Why?”

There’s no answer for him. There never is. Not with his parents’ death nor his uncle’s and he doesn’t see why life would spare him this one either. All this grief always placed on him and - for a moment, brief and fleeting but wonderful nonetheless - he thought he had finally found happiness within the darkness.

He’s so caught in his heartache and can’t bring himself to think about anything besides Tony despite that only hurting him more.

It’s almost comical when the elevator chimes a friendly tune to alert Peter he’s at the main lobby.

When Peter steps off he can feel everyone’s eyes crawling all over him, but he doesn’t care what they think of him.

He speedwalks through the lobby, just wanting to get home as soon as possible. He keeps his eyes firmly focused on the floor. His heart is heavy and weighed down by rejection, but - even if his dignity is long gone at this point - he still tries to calm his crying to no avail. The tears continue to fall with little regard of how he feels about it, which makes him cry harder.

He stumbles his way to his apartment and stops in front of the apartment door. He can hear his breath, shaky from his endless sobbing and from the walk back. He half-heartedly tries to calm himself to no avail.

The first thing his blurry, teary-eyed vision sees when he opens the door is Aunt May sitting on the sofa. She looks at him for only a second before rushing to him and bombarding him with questions.

It’s all in good faith, Peter’s sure, but it just makes him sink even further into his sorrow.

He’s too vacant to truly process any of her questions at the moment, so he just accepts her warm embrace and sobs helplessly into her arms. She pets his hair and coos to him, but it doesn’t help. He’s honestly not sure anything will.

Through the fog of his grief he hears Aunt May say, “This is the second time you’ve come home crying because of that man, Peter, I will go down there myself if I have to.”

“No,” he says, voice wrecked from crying, “no, it’s fine, Aunt May, I’ll handle it.”

Her voice is sharp as she asks, “What needs to be handled?”

Peter hesitates.

The situation is complicated and he struggles to find the right words to properly explain it. Even if he could, May’s done so much for him already and the thought of bothering her with relationship troubles seems useless at best - burdening at worst. And - whether either of them like it or not - Peter’s an adult now which means he has to start handling certain things on his own.

“I just messed something up,” Peter lies, already feeling guilt joining the cocktail of emotions that is his eternal suffering, “it was pretty important, but I’ll fix it later… it’s just been a pretty tough day.”

He sniffles, his tears finally drying out. He rubs the wetness off his face and looks up at her with a smile dampened by sadness.

He forces a reassuring tone as he says, “It’ll be fine.”

May looks at him for a moment, her eyes stern and studying behind her glasses, before sighing, “Okay, but tell me if you need anything.”

Peter nods, “Of course, Aunt May.”

He winces at the sound of his voice which is still cracked and uneven from his crying. But, for the time being at least, May seems convinced that Peter isn’t falling apart which - in his opinion - is a job well done.

Peter slumps off to his room and then flops into his desk chair. He forces himself to breathe deeply to calm his nerves. He’s somewhat able to get his bearings despite still being knee deep in the waters of misery.

His mind’s brimming with questions; all of which are, unsurprisingly, unanswered.

The kiss wasn’t just a kiss. It felt like so much more… or that’s how Peter felt, anyway, and he was almost positive that Tony felt the same way.

For a long while, Peter’s noticed the way Tony’s eyes linger on him; the way Tony watches him with an unreadable stare. And the things that Tony says to him - while always subtle - present very clear implications.

And, sure it took some convincing, but Tony kissed him back and seemed to enjoy it just as much.

Peter struggles for a moment as he considers maybe…

Maybe he has been reading too much into things? Even though that provokes a nigh unbearable ache in his heart it’s really the only thing that makes sense.

Those longing stares, just figments of Peter’s hopeful imagination, those subtle comments just jokes, even the kiss - so meaningful to Peter - just another kiss to Tony.

While it all meant the world to him it was just another day for Tony, he realizes.

He stares at his desk, that’s all he really can bring himself to do. There’s an emptiness in Peter’s heart suddenly and he feels dizzy from it.

Everything’s just falling and falling and - like always - he can’t do anything to stop it. He feels tremors wrack through his body as the overwhelming tides of grief make their unwelcome return.

A sob forces its way through his throat.

It’s like being buried alive, he thinks, alone and helpless; resigned to your grim fate.

He allows himself to cry this time, though, feeling just a little safer in the confines of his room.

He trods over to his bed and plants himself between the covers as his crying continues. He turns and comes face-to-face with an Iron Man Build-a-Bear.

He nearly screams.

He throws the stupid bear out of sight, not really caring where it lands, and pulls the covers close.

He tries so desperately to force himself into a fitful sleep but he can’t. Tony’s laugh, his jokes, his compliments all play on repeat inside of his head. And, try as might, the only image his brain can conjure is Tony’s stern eyes and sweet smile.

Back at Stark Tower, Tony is going through a similar dilemma.

He wants so badly - almost needs - but it’s his job to do right by Peter. And he knows, even if it kills them both, Peter will be better because of this.

Tony tries to keep his resolve, but it continues slipping. He loves Peter so much and now that they’ve been separated Tony feels like he’s dying.

Peter’s an angel. His curls are soft, silky and brown; his eyes are vibrant - shining like pools of liquid gold; his lips pulled into an almost perpetual smile and flushed carnation.

Tony knows he’s let heaven slip through his fingers, but hell is a comfort few understand like he does.

He continues fighting with himself as the voice in his head, once an inconsequential whisper, screams at him to return to Peter’s side. The moral part of him reminds him why he’s done this and why, despite all the pain it’s caused, it’ll be good for him and Peter in the end.

Tony feels a familiar, frightening itch under his skin to grab a bottle of whiskey.

He considers, for a moment, that maybe this is hell. That he might’ve died and this is his torture for his lustful attachment to his ward.

He’s quite uncertain how to move forward now.

He wants nothing more than to embrace Peter, kiss him, love him to the ends of the world and back. It eats away at him and rolls through his body. He starves for Peter’s affection; it makes him feel like an insatiable monster.

But, despite it all, Tony forces himself to ignore it. Ignore the way his heart chases after Peter, ignore the forlorn expression Peter wore when he was sent away. Ignore it all, push it down and suppress it until it disappears.

He gets up from the couch. No use wallowing in sadness, he supposes, as he begins stalking off to the lab.

The elevator door chimes, though, stopping him in his tracks. A bright forest fire of hope ignites in his chest. His secret, guilty desire that Peter will come back and demand more. It shocks him how quick and turns and-

It’s Pepper. The lights flicker on as she steps through the elevator (thanks, FRIDAY).

Tony can feel the disappointment tug at his features and he can’t be bothered trying to hide it.

“A couple people saw Peter walking through the lobby crying his eyes out,” Pepper says.

Pepper has an ice cold stare while her lips are held in a stern, straight line. She stands there; her heels firmly planted on the floor with her arms crossed.

Tony’s heart clenches at the thought of sweet Peter walking through the lobby, tears streaming down his pretty face as he heads home hopelessly.

“Oh,” Tony says. He looks at the spot next to Pepper instead of subjecting himself to her judgemental stare.

Pepper says, “Oh? So, you know something about this?”

Her voice is accusatory right out of the gate. Which is fair, she - although while never saying anything outright - has always seemed to understand there was more to Peter and Tony’s relationship than the surface.

“It’s complicated, Pep,” Tony says.

Pepper says, “Well, uncomplicate it then, Tony.”

“We kissed, he told me he loved me, and that’s not okay so I told him to leave,” Tony says, voice getting meeker as he reaches the end of his sentence, truly realizing how much of an ass he sounds like.

“Why the hell would you do that?” She asks.

She walks toward him, her steps so filled with vitriol that Tony’s genuinely worried she’s going to hit him.

Tony says, “Peter’s a good person. He deserves someone who can give him what he needs and that someone is not me, Pep!”

“Do you love him?” Pepper asks.

Tony pauses.

She sighs, “Do you love him or not, Tony?”

“Of course! Of course I love him! Who wouldn’t?” Tony says, “He’s amazing, brillant, beautiful - I would literally die for him, Pepper, but - no matter how much I love him - us getting together would only hurt him.”

Pepper’s unimpressed expression doesn’t inspire confidence in Tony.

She exhales deeply before saying, “It’s not your job to protect him anymore. He’s an adult now, he’s got his own ambitions and his own life and he can make his own decisions. You don’t get to decide that you’re not good enough for him.”

“That’s… no, Pep, no I… just - he’s so-” Tony rambles on, making random gestures with his hands.

She snaps, “Tony!”

Tony’s mouth shuts and he looks at her.

“Listen to me, very carefully, okay?” She says.

Tony nods.

“Okay,” Pepper continues, “what you are going to do, because you love Peter so much, is you are going to find him and apologize for sending him away and you are going to tell him how you feel.”

Tony shakes his head, “I can’t-”

“You can,” She cuts him off, “and you will, otherwise, Tony, you will lose him and you will spend the rest of your life wallowing in regret of what could’ve been.”

She gives him a brief, supportive smile before the clicking of her heels signal her departure.

Tony sighs and rubs at his face.

Maybe, he thinks, being selfish one more time won’t hurt.

Peter’s hiding under his covers. He’s blocking out the world in a futile attempt to make the pain disappear.

He feels the soothing melody of sleep sing to him. And just as he starts to fall asleep, he hears something tapping at his window.

He jolts up from his bed and looks to the window.

Tony Stark is standing on his fire escape like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Peter blinks hard. He briefly wonders if he’s lost his mind; that maybe this is a delusion from his desperate mind.

Tony taps on the window and says, muffled by the glass, “We need to talk.”

Peter shuffles over to the window and opens it.

“What the hell are you doing?” Peter asks; a surge of incandescent rage sparking within him only for it to be snuffed out just as quick.

Peter steps back as Tony clambers through the window - basically falling through it.

Peter watches with a tight expression on his face.

He asks, voice much softer this time, “What are you doing, Tony?”

“I-” Tony says, standing then continuing, “I am… uh… well, I’m not sure what I’m doing, to be honest with you. But I’ve been tormented these past few months by my own soul. Peter, whenever I close my eyes you’re what I see and whenever I imagine heaven it’s you with me.”

Peter breathes deeply, “And what does this mean exactly?”

“It means that,” Tony pauses, forcing down his apprehension, “I love you. I love you with all my might and, for so long, I’ve restricted myself to just dreaming, but I can’t anymore. I can’t watch idly and let you slip through my fingers, Peter, and I must admit that I’ve been a selfish ass these past few months. However, if you can find it within yourself to forgive me, I’ll love you unabashedly and I’ll love you purely.”

A sudden rush of joy floods Peter so quickly he feels light-headed from it.

“Do you mean that?” He asks, his voice so soft he wonders if the words even left his lips in the first place.

Tony nods and grabs Peter’s hands in his own. He presses his forehead against Peter’s and they stare into each other’s eyes for a moment.

“I say this with all my conviction, darling,” Tony whispers, voice raw, “you are the only one for me.”

Peter feels a stuttered breath pass his lips. A fiery feeling, that of pure want, burns throughout his body, infecting his mind, soul, and body until there’s hardly anything left.

He smiles, “I forgive you… I don’t think I could ever bring myself not to.”

“So, we’re together then?” Tony asks as he brims with apprehension.

Peter says with a watery smile, “We always have been.”

The world seems to pause for a moment as they look in longing at each other. It’s a sudden uncertainty, they’ve been gifted the most coveted treasure of all. Love. They are both nervous in each other’s arms as they hesitate; in fear that one wrong move will send it all crashing down.

Tony’s eyes trace Peter’s face. His eyes dark, gentle as they admire Peter with such delicate precision Peter swears he can almost feel it.

Tony studies Peter; his eyes of chocolate, his strawberry lips, and porcelain skin with a flush so perfect it looks painted on.

Tony rests his hand on Peter’s jaw and swipes his thumb across the young man’s bottom lip. Peter’s tongue reacts immediately darting out to lick the calloused fingertip.

The action, simple as it is, sparks a bright fire within Tony’s body. An even deeper want filled with sensuality and sex. He can feel the last of his restraint unraveling until nothing remains, but - unlike before - he does not scramble to stop it. In fact, he encourages the last of his hesitations to slip through his fingers.

“I want you,” Tony admits ashamedly.

For he feels such remorse for lusting after someone as near divine as Peter.

Peter only smiles; his lips upturned in a knowing smile and eyes glittering with golden mischief. With his voice soft and soothing, like the summer wind sweet in its brevity, he says:

“Then take me.”

#starker #starker fic #mild angst #max writes

139 notes · View notes

considermewhelmed · 3 years

Text

Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths- Tim Drake

TW: attempted su*c*de/su*c*dal thoughts, anxiety, depression.

a/n: hey remember in the Master when I said these would be short fics? Ha. Yeah. Me too. Good times.

Tag list: @river9noble

Master

“Achilles, Achilles, Achilles come down/Won’t you get up off, get up off the roof?/You’re scaring us and all of us/Some of us love you/Achilles it’s not much but there’s proof.”

“You may feel no purpose/Nor a point for existing/It’s all just conjecture and gloom/And there may not be meaning/So find one and seize it/Do not waste yourself on this roof/Hear those bells ring deep in the soul/Chiming away for a moment/Feel your breath course frankly below/And see life as a worthy opponent.”

Tim stood on the edge of the building, overlooking the city. His cape billowed lightly in the cool air, and he took a deep breath.

‘Red Robin, report.’ Barbra’s voice asked in his ear.

Tim remained silent, his eyes scanning the streets, but his mind far away.

‘Red Robin, report.’ She repeated.

‘Red Robin, are you okay?’

A new voice broke onto the comms.

Dick.

He had been thinking a lot. About Dick. And Damian. Bruce. Steph. Babs. Duke. Luke. Cass. Kate even. There were just… so many of them. So many. One less surely wouldn’t matter?

He imagined he wouldn’t get a huge memorial like the one for Jason in the batcave- he was choosing this, he did it himself, there was no honour in that. He didn’t mind though, he wasn’t sure he even cared to be remembered.

They barely remembered him alive, why would death help?

He wondered how long it would take them to forget him. The voice is the first thing you forget about a person, when was the last time he talked to them all?

‘Red Robin, where are you?’ Dick.

‘Is his comm offline?’ Steph.

‘No, it’s online. It should be working. Receiver and all.’ Barbra.

‘Red Robin?’ Dick.

He looked down. He’d survived some pretty unlikely things, but this was too much. Too high. There was no way his heart could take his fall, let alone the pavement below waiting for his body. It called his name, whispering the promises of sweet relief with every breeze, the streetlight spotlight marking his entrance to his final bow.

‘Can you get his tracker online?’ Dick.

‘Red Robin, come in.’ Bruce.

‘No. He’s bypassed the security.’ Barbra.

‘Really Drake?’ Damian. ‘Sneaking off during patrol?’

‘Red Robin, report.’ Bruce- and Tim imagined he sounded worried in the way only Batman could be.

‘Where was his route?’ Dick.

Tim tuned them out, but couldn’t bring himself to turn the comms off completely. He didn’t have the heart to be alone- he was selfish and desperate.

He shrugged off the cape, letting it fall to the rooftop, and quietly unclipped his utility belt. He wished he felt scared, or sad, or anything, but instead he just felt numb. Human instinct should be trying to get him back safely to the solid roof behind him, but instead he just swayed in the wind, as if even his own body was impartial to the decision.

He closed his eyes and sighed quietly, rolling his shoulders back, resigning to his fate. There was no use in fighting anymore.

That was it. He felt something. Tired.

Not just tired. Exhausted. Bone deep exhaustion, the kind of exhaustion that made even sleeping a chore. Tears gathered in his eyes, and with each drop his mask got looser and looser. He thought of something to say- some sort of goodbye. Not for them, but for him, for closure. His own eulogy. Last words, maybe?

Did he deserve last words when the villain he lost to was his own mind? Internal, eternal, and inevitable? It was a dance he’d been a part of for far too long and he was just tired.

“Hey Replacement.”

Tim expected his whole body to go rigid, for his instinct to take over, for any kind of fight to bubble up inside him, itching to get out. He and Jason reconciled, sure, but sometimes when he caught him off guard, Tim still had the same knee-jerk reaction.

Instead, his body just stood there, open and unarmed. It solidified his resolve- even his instincts knew it was over. The idea that Jason could easily shoot him, or push him off the roof didn’t scare him.

Why would it?

He could hear Jason’s quiet, heavy steps as the older boy approached.

‘Red Hood, status, have you found him?’

Dick’s voice came over the comms.

Tim didn’t look at Jason. There was a soft click.

“No, not yet. I’ll keep looking. Just cover my area Dickhead.” Jason said before the soft click happened again.

The two boys were quiet for a minute.

Behind him, Tim could hear the familiar whirring of the mechanics- mechanics he helped design -that indicated the removal of Jason’s Red Hood helmet. A thump after indicated Jason had opted to ditch it on the roof.

Normally, Tim would yell at him for being so careless with his equipment, especially since Tim worked hard on the last updates, but he couldn’t even find his voice.

He heard the clatter of weapons hitting the ground, and Jason stepped closer.

“Come on Timmy,” Jason said softly, and Tim’s chest tightened at the nickname. “You’re shaking. You gotta be freezing.”

It wasn’t until Jason said something that Tim realized he was vibrating. Even the air was unforgiving in Gotham, and somewhere between his decision to step on the ledge and the loss of his cape, it turned into an icy grip that cut through the thin material of his suit.

The wind stung his face where the tears had started to slip beneath his mask. His knees buckled and he sucked in a sharp breath of air.

“I can’t.” He choked out, his hand gripping at his chest. “I- I can’t move.”

‘Red Robin?’ Dick’s voice cut through the comms. ‘Come on buddy, where are you, I’ll come get you.’

Tim couldn’t hear him over the roar of his own blood in his ears, and took his comm out of his ear, throwing it off to the side.

It was then he caught sight of Jason, and was shocked by the lack of not only helmet, but mask as well. Jason’s eyes had a green shine to them- a side effect of the pit -and they were trained on Tim.

Jason held out his hand to Tim. “Take my hand baby bird.” He murmured.

“No,” Tim cried. “I want- I should- I have to- I’m going to fall Jason-”

“No.” Jason said sternly. “No you won’t.”

Tim inched closer to the ledge. “It doesn’t matter-”

“Of course it matters dipshit, you matter. I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

Tim’s lip trembled and a sob tore from his throat as his knees gave out from under him and for a split second he was falling-

And the next he was wrapped in a tight hug.

Tim reached out instinctually and grabbed onto whatever he could hold, staying as close as possible to the smell of leather, gun polish and sweat, a surprisingly comforting combination.

Maybe it was just because it meant safety.

“I’ve got you baby bird,” Jason mumbled, and he could feel Jason bury his nose in Tim’s hair. “I’ve got you.”

“I’m sorry,” He sputtered through his tears. “I’m sorry, Jay, I’m sorry,” A whole new breakdown washed over him, and he couldn’t get a grip on his emotions.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Jason scolded him lightly, and rubbed little circles on his back. “I’ve got you.”

“I was going to do it,” Tim cried.

“I know.” Jason whispered.

“They hate me. They’re going to hate me more!” Tim whimpered. “I can’t- I don’t want-”

“I know.” Jason repeated. “But no one hates you, Tim,” He promised. “Hell, even Barbra threatened to get out here to find you.”

Tim buried his face in Jason’s chest and just stayed there. “I’m nothing more than a placeholder,” He mumbled. “I’m a pretender. A replacement.” He sniffled. “I didn’t- I didn’t even want to be Robin. God. I wanted Dick to be Robin. Batman needs Robin.” He was close to hysterics, and god Jason still didn’t know what to do.

“Maybe,” Jason agreed. “But Bruce Wayne needs Tim Drake.” Jason said quietly. “I’m pretty sure the old man would be lost without you Timmy.”

Tim shook his head and Jason snorted. “You set up the system in the batcave, make sure the Wayne business is intact and running smoothly, you’ve updated all the security, you always make sure there’s coffee in the manor, and no one makes him smile with bad jokes like you do.”

Tim stayed quiet, and Jason alternated between rubbing his back and running his hand through Tim’s hair. The boys stood there for as long as Tim needed to and Jason realized how small Tim was because Jesus Christ this was just a kid in a costume and he just wanted to be loved.

“Can we go back to the Manor?” Jason murmured. “My bike’s not far.”

Tim didn’t move.

“We can watch a movie?” He suggested. “I’ll let you pick.”

“Why are you being so nice?” Tim mumbled.

“Well… I could punch you instead if you’d like. Not sure that’ll make you feel better though.” He offered, and was rewarded by the smallest, quietest laugh. “C’mon, we can raid the kitchen.”

“You aren’t going to make me talk?” Tim asked.

Jason shook his head, tightening his grip on him. “I’m not going to make you talk about anything you don’t want to baby bird.” He said softly. “But if you want to do that, I’m here for that too.”

Tim tightened his own grip and kept close- Jason was keeping him grounded and that’s all that mattered. “What was it like?” He whispered.

Jason was quiet for a long moment, and Tim regretted asking almost immediately.

“Long.” Jason decided. “Dark. Quiet.”

“Good quiet?”

“No.” Jason said softly. “Too quiet.”

“I’m sorry.” Tim whispered.

“Me too,” Jason mumbled. “You’re not alone Timbo. I’m right here, alright?”

Tim nodded and pulled away after a moment when he felt like he could stand on his own. Jason collected their things and handed Tim his mask, cape and belt, putting his own mask and helmet back on, clipping his holsters on.

The ride back was quiet- Tim’s comm must have busted when it hit the roof, and if Jason heard anything he wasn’t giving it away. Jason came up with some half-assed lie about what happened to Barbra and the other Bats over the comms, and immediately claimed the living room for him and Tim, heading upstairs.

Tim was asleep by the end of the opening credits, tucked safely into the side of his big brother.

Maybe Tim couldn’t fight the villain in his head on his own, but having someone like Jason Todd on your side certainly made it easier.

#thebatfamplaylist #tim drake #red robin #jason todd #red hood #batman #bruce wayne #dc #dc comics #dick grayson #nightwing #damian wayne #Robin #barbra gordon #oracle #sorry this is so sad

68 notes · View notes

certifiedskywalker · 4 years

Text

Questions - Din Djarin

artemiseamoon said: Hi 🙂 can I request a touch starved reader x touch starved Mando? I’m thinking the reader is a bounty hunter as well & a loner. Maybe something cute & fluffy as they develop feelings for eachother. She’s also great with The Kid, and it ends with some sweetness? Thanks 🙂

AN: Loosely follows the actual events of the show, The Mandalorian but it does jump around.

The three times you broke code and asked Din Dajrin a question; and the fourth time you didn’t have to.

Adopting the profession, the art, of bounty hunter also meant adopting its rules. When you joined the Guild, you were given the handbook and a run down on the basic guidelines. Don’t ask questions was at the top of the list. The client is always right, no double crossing said client. Straight forward rules, rules that, for you, seemed unnecessary.

However, there was an unspoken code that proved more difficult to implement. Even though it was for your own safety, the concept of isolating yourself from others was unappealing. Granted, there were times when, what your leading Guild officer called hunter-grit set in and you wanted to push yourself as far away from other beings as you could get. But living in loneliness, giving a galaxy’s worth of distance between you and people? It was difficult.

Eventually, you started to get the hang of it. After the first few bounties settled in and your credit pouch was full, isolating yourself became second nature. Hell, you might have even been happy. Your stomach was full and your ship was never without fuel. Work proved to be the only company you needed. That was the case until you met Mando.

At first, you were paired up for a bounty. You had stopped on Nevarro to refuel when you stumbled upon Greef Karga in the local cantina. It was only met to be one day; just you passing through town before taking off for some bigger, better job. But Karga was a businessman, a good one at that. He had invited you to his table, jabbered on like a drunk Wookiee about some job.

It was meant to catch your attention, you knew that it was. Yet, that didn’t stop you from biting at the bait. Even when Karga said you’d be splitting the bounty, you didn’t care. Then you met Mando and everything you had worked for, the reputation of skilled bounty hunter, started to fall apart. He walked in, all armored up and quiet, and you knew your life was going to change.

It was only meant to be one job. A few cycles later, it was three jobs. Five jobs later and you had sold your ship to work full time as the Mandalorian’s bounty hunting partner. And you still didn’t know his name.

Despite your shared profession, you and Mando made sure to uphold the code. The distance between the two of you lingered. Never once had you seen his face and he called you only by your last name. You didn’t even sleep at the same time. If you had claimed the cot, Mando was piloting. If he went to rest, you stayed up and scrolled through holonet channels searching for a new hunt. You were partners, nothing more; and there was absolutely no asking questions.

The first time you asked Mando a question, you were surprised by his reply.

It wasn’t sitting well with you, leaving the little green thing with the client. There was something in the old imps face that set you on edge. You didn’t trust him but that didn’t matter. What mattered was the payment, the beskar; or that was what you told yourself when the Child let out a heart-wrenching cry. It was what you had to tell yourself.

Mando seemed content to take the payment and walk away. At least, that was what you thought. When you turned your back on the client, eager to leave the snake’s den of stormtroopers, you assumed that Mando was trailing behind you; slowed down only by the weight of his payment.

“What are you going to do with it?”

You stopped in your tracks and craned your neck. At the angle, Mando stood tall and strong, staring down at the still-sitting Imperial. Something shifted in the client's expression and you felt your body tense. You turned back around and readied to fight alongside your hunting partner.

“This is quite uncharacteristic of your kind. The Guild did not endeavor to ask questions,” the client grumbled as he stood up behind his desk. “If you are unhappy with the payment, we can negotiate other means of reward. Unfortunately, finding Mandalorians in these trying times is more difficult than acquiring the steel.”

Swallowing hard, you reached over and set a hand on Mando’s shoulder. In your touch, your partner seemed to flow back into the present, into reality. Instead of pressing the client further, Mando dipped his head and turned on his heels. In an eery silence, you and Mando marched towards the door, out into the dry air of Nevarro.

The sun was slightly obscured by the haze of smoke and clouds typical of the arid planet. Heat licked around your skin and part of you wondered how Mando was able to survive under all those layers. You eyed him carefully, trying to get a read on his feelings.

The client was right: the Guild didn’t ask questions, a rule that Mando was quick to uphold. The Child had stirred something within him. You could feel it.

After months of working with him, you were able to grasp some silent speech from the way he held himself. In the moment, his shoulders were slouched and his visor was turned towards the cantono of beskar in his hand. Leaving the child had stirred some dormant instinct within him; just it had with you. You watched him and frowned.

“We did the job,” you said, trying to comfort him, and yourself.

“We did,” Mando replied coldly. He turned his visor towards your face. “I need to deliver this,” he lifted the cantono of beskar, “I’ll meet you at the ship.”

You nodded and waited for the Mandalorian to march off into the heart of the settlement. When he didn’t, when he stayed still at your side, you quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Mando,” you said his nickname softly, a silent plea for his true name. “I don’t trust them either. You’re not alone in that.”

The Mandalorian let out a thoughtful hum. “We did the job,” he echoed, “This is the Way.”

You scowled and looked over your shoulder, back towards the door that the Child is now trapped behind. A pulling in your chest called you back inside to steal the Child away from Imperial clutches. Guild, and the Way, be damned.

“If you want to go back after him, I’ll-”

“L/N, no.”

With his free hand, Mando grabbed your arm and pulled you into a nearby alleyway. A platoon of stormtroopers marched past and you felt your breath catch in your throat. Luckily, Mando had you pressed up against a cool stone wall and out of sight. It was the closest you had ever been to him; you could feel the warmth of his body against yours.

When the troopers passed, you slumped down and slightly rested against Mando’s frame. “Thanks, for that.”

“You have to be careful with what you say and where,” he warned, stepping away from you. “The Empire may have fallen but its not cold yet.”

You nodded and fixed your clothes that had ridden up with the sudden movement. As you did, you could feel his eyes on you. When you looked up, Mando looked away. Even the most stoic of bounty hunters could get bashful.

“I’ll keep that in mind for the future,” you sighed.

At the word ‘future’, Mando stiffened. You wondered if he was picturing a future with you and bounty hunting. Or, maybe he was thinking of the Child as you were, how the small creature might not have a future to look out for.

“Mando, are-”

“I’ll meet you at the ship, L/N.” You reach out and grab Mando’s shoulder once more. He turned to face you, the visor meeting your eyes. You did not have see his face to know his strength, his confidence in his choice to leave the Child behind, was wavering.

“You know that, if you go back for him, I’ll be with you, right?”

You waited for the biting reply, that Guild-instate phrase of ‘don’t ask questions’. You waited, but it didn’t come. Instead, the Mandalorian simply said: “Good.”

The second time you dared to ask a question, you were scared about loosing him.

Post battle, the krill village seemed to glow with life. There was a soft breeze that rustled through the trees and the smell of the swampy pools seemed brighter, less offensive to your nose. Peace, it was what hung in the air, kissed the faces of everyone in the village.

The Child was giggling with the children, smiling as if he hadn’t been close to an eternity of captivity just a few days before. Before you and Mando stole him back and thrust him into a life of eternal danger. But he did look happy.

“He likes it here, fits right in,” Omera observed. When you looked over to agree with her, you found that her lovely eyes were focused on Mando. He was looking at her too. He only nodded in response but it was enough to pull a frown to your lips.

When Omera trodded off the porch of the barn, you heard Cara let out an amused huff. You pushed yourself off the doorframe and peered down at the ex-shocktrooper. Mando, who was relaxed, leaning against the barn, glanced her way as well. Cara wasn’t good at hiding anything she had to say. The smile spread along her face was evidence enough.

When she noticed you and Mando looking at her, waiting expectantly, she sighed. “So, what’s next for you two, I mean, three?”

You looked at Din and met the cold stare of his dark visor. There was normally a silent understanding between the two of you. Cycles of working together had tuned your body to his; a connection that, despite the bounty hunter code, you could not deny. But, when you looked at him then, the thread tying you together was tangled. You waited, quiet, listening.

“We going to leave. You were here first.” Cara smiled and tipped her head gratefully.

“Fair is fair,” she teased. Din, you could almost feel him roll his eyes, turned away. Cara still looked at him, with all the intrigue you once had; you still have. “So what happens if you take that thing off? They come after you and kill you?”

You let out a chuckle. “Kill him? You could only do that.” You glanced at Mando with a smile and added, “and maybe me.”

“Watch it.” The warning was cold, but there was a tilt in Mando’s voice that told you he was smiling. He seemed to smile more often now but you were smart enough to know not to ask why. You noticed the change in him when you cut yourselves from the Guild’s messy business, since he had left the Mandalorian covert behind. You smiled more too.

“Seriously, what happens?” Cara asked again, pulling your attention back to her. After a spot of silence, your gaze shifted to Mando. He was leaning against the wall still, the most relaxed you had ever seen him. You wished you could see him like this more often. However, as Cara’s question sunk in, Mando’s body tensed.

“No,” he said thoughtfully, “I just can’t ever put it back on.”

Cara let out a disbelieving huff but your gaze remained trained on your partner. You had never asked about it, due to the hunter code. Asking questions was a habit you had to break to survive, reforming it was proving difficult. Now that you knew why Mando never revealed his face to you, you felt relieved. It wasn’t you, you weren’t the problem.

There wasn’t any problem except for the code holding you both back.

“That’s it? So you can slip off the helmet and settle down with that stunning young widow, and raise your kid sitting here, sipping spotchka?” At her question, your blood went cold. When you looked at her, Cara raised the glass in her hand, eyes wide with interest.

Mando only turned to glare at her and Cara shrugged, busied herself with her spotchka again. You, on the other hand, were focused on him. Limp with fear, your arms uncrossed from your chest and fell weakly to your sides. It felt like your life, a life you had fought for, was slipping away.

“Do you want to stay here, with her...and stop this?”

This; that partnership. The connection between you and Mando. Did he want to stop it? There were so many questions you did not know how to ask.

Your mouth went dry in the silence. The stale taste of your spotchka from the night before rising in your throat. It was the code that had pushed you to push yourself away from Mando and you were paying the price. This was not the way you wanted this to go.

“No, we can’t.” We, he said we. There was still a you and Mando even with the distance between you. You would have time to close the gap. “We caused a lot of trouble here a few weeks ago. Word travels fast. We need to leave before the next cycle.”

“I wouldn’t want to be the one to tell him that.” Cara gestured to the Child who was still giggling with the other kids. Mando looked out at the little being you and he were now desperate to protect. Omera was right: the Child fits right in despite his appearance. He could be happy here.

Slowly, you turned you eyes back to Mando only to find his visor focused on you. The once tangled thread tying you and him together was strong. You were both thinking the same thing but neither of you wanted to give voice to it.

The third time you ventured to ask a question, it was dire. “Mando,” your voice was quiet. You did not say his birth-given name. It was foregin, given to you not by the man himself but Moff Gideon who was a threat still lurking outside. You would only use it aloud, speak it into existence Mando allowed you to.

“What do you want us to do?” Cara’s question came out rushed, panicked. You had to bite your tongue to keep from asking the same thing.

A cough, too gruff for the voice modulator in his helmet to alter, rumbled up in his chest. “Go. Get the baby out of here.”

“We’re not gonna leave you here!” Cara snapped, flames dancing in the ex-shock trooper’s eyes. “C’mon, Mando. I need to get you-”

The doorway fell in with another burst of flames. You lunged to shield Mando and Cara from the blast. Heat licked at your back, a blazing reminder that you all needed to get out of here. You squeezed your eyes shut and waited to feel a twinge of pain. When it didn’t come, you opened your eyes and looked into the dark visor of Mando’s helmet. For a moment, you swore you could see his eyes all wide and scared. If he, your partner, the strongest man and bounty hunter you know, was scared, what hope did you have?

“Leave.”

The word came out hoarse. His voice was wavering with his strength. Cara shook her head and you wondered if she was just as stubborn as Mando was.

“We can’t,” you frowned at her words. You wanted to agree with the sentiment. You wanted to say ‘I won’t’, to let Mando know that you were not going to leave him; to tell him that you could be just as stubborn as he was. You wanted to but you couldn’t.

Instead, you crouched on your knees and placed your hand on his armored chest. You looked carefully into the visor of his helmet, silently hoping for a glimpse of his eyes once more. When you didn’t see them, you leaned down so that your mouth was by his audio input.

“Do you want us to leave you here?”

In comparison to the fire around you, your voice was soft. It lacked the harsh edge of the broken glass and shards of shrapnel around you. You stared down at him, waiting for any reply. You wanted to see him, help him; it took everything you had not to lift him and carry him out of there.

“L/N,” you fought back a smile. Even when he knew your name, also given by Moff Gideon, he would not use it. Only until you gave it to him. “We don’t ask questions.”

It was unless to fight it any longer: the smile spread along your lips though bitter. A painful smile, heavy with the thought of leaving Mando behind. The visor of his helmet was still focused on you and you wondered if the tactical programming within could read your heat signature. It would be as close as you would get to him seeing you; truly seeing you.

“Okay,” you replied, your voice soft.

Just once you wanted to ease the distance short, cut the space between you. You would never get another chance to. There was no more time.

Carefully, you leaned down and pressed you lips to the smooth beskar of his helmet. He flinched below you with one of his gloved hands reaching up to wrap around your wrist. Much to your surprise, he didn’t push you away.

There was something tender in his touch. Something that made you want to stay; but you pulled away from him anyway. He was right. You needed to leave, for the Child. Even when every part of you was screaming to stay and get Din moving again.

“I will stay with him.”

You looked up at the IG droid, it’s glowing red optical unit looked almost demonic in the flames. He was holding the Child now, it’s large alien eyes closed with sleep.

“What?” Cara, still crouched down by the Mandalorian , glared up at the droid. “You’re going to stay?”

“Yes,” it handed the Child out to you. Eager to hold tight to something, you took the Child into your arms. Warmth flooded your chest. A fire that was not physical but far more powerful than the flames around you, swallowing the cantina whole. Mando wanted you to protect the Child because he couldn’t. Even though the thought made you weak, you stood strong.

Part of the cantina fell in with a sudden burst of flames. You hunched over and shielded the Child from the blaze.

“Go, please,” Mando’s voice was hoarse. “Please, L/N.”

Cara stood up, giving Mando one last look. You wanted to stay with him; every inch of your being was screaming at you to just stay. But then, the Child whimpered and you looked down into those wide, dark eyes of his. The future was with the foundlings, he had told you once.

“This way,” you said, gesturing towards the open vent. As you stepped towards the only exit in sight, you glanced back behind you at Mando’s slumped form. The IG-11 droid stood over him like a visage of looming death. Tears welled up in your eyes but you fought them back.

Fate, and the Child, had tied you and Mando together. Distance had kept you apart for so long that death felt like nothing. If you dared to ask yourself if he had any chances of survival, you knew the answer. There was no need to think; you knew.

“This is the Way.”

The fourth time, there were no questions left to ask.

“We’re docked.”

“Well, he’s asleep so we can hit the cantina later,” you announced softly, as the Mandalorian hunter clambered down from the cockpit. up into the cockpit. You turned to face him, the dark visor of his helmet meeting your gaze. A strange silence fell over you. “What? What is it?”

“He’s asleep?”

You stepped to the side to show him the Child who was tucked carefully into the make-shift cradle. He reached down and brushed the tip of his gloved fingers against the creatures’ green cheek. The little being shifted at the touch, snuggling closer to his protector’s hand. You smiled at the sight, unable to help yourself.

“You’re good with him, Mando.”

“Din.”

Your mouth opened in slight shock.

“Wha-”

“You can call me Din, by my name.” He was facing you now until his worn beskar was all you saw. You wanted to ask why. You wanted to press him and ask why he was gifting you his name. Some part of you told you that you shouldn’t, that you didn’t need to.

“Din.” You rolled his tongue along your tongue. In your mind, in the flames of the Nevarro cantina, it had felt alien to you only in your mind. You smiled. “I’m Y/N.”

“You don’t want me to call you L/N anymore?” Your smile deepened at Din’s slightly teasing tone. For someone who, just a few cycles ago was on death’s door, Din was light.

“You’re joking now?”

“No more questions,” his tone was soft but almost warning. You quirked a brow at Din and watched him carefully.

You wanted to speak but all you had were questions. What did he mean? What were you now? You were a clan of three, as the Armorer had said, but what did that mean to him? You were so lost in thought that the feeling of his hand gripping your wrist made you jump.

His touch was not rough. On the contrary, he was surprising gentle as he brought one of your hands to the side of his helmet. Cool under your fingers, the beskar seemed to hum to life. Suddenly, the questions in your head quieted. There was only you and Din now, reforged from fire and time.

You did not need to ask what he wanted you to do. On Sorgan, he had said that, if he took it off, he could never put it back on again. It was a distant memory now, but it lingered in your mind. Doubt clouded your heart and you almost pulled your hand away.

“This,” Din grabbed your other hand and pressed your palm to the other side of his helmet. “This is the way.”

With his hand still on your wrist, you lifted the helmet off his head slowly. It felt as if your senses were coming alive for the first time. Smells of metal, fuel, and sweat filled your nose and your heart hammered loudly in your ears as you focused so intently on the task at hand. When you saw the first hints of olive skin, you let out a held breath.

Before you could catch up with your movements, Din’s helmet was off. The beskar was shockingly light in your hands. Or maybe you were so enraptured by the face of the man before you that you didn’t feel the weight of it. The weight of the moment was heavy enough.

Din’s eyes met yours almost shyly. You traced his features with your vision. Scruff that, in patches, claimed his chin and cheeks was filling in. Lines around his dark eyes and mouth showed his age but you were awash in the warmth coming from his gaze.

Freeing one hand, you reached up. Your hand, shaking slightly, brushed against his cheek. Warm. He was just so warm. Almost as if he himself was testing these new waters, Din turned his face. You could feel the corner of his lips against your palm.

How long had it been since you had been this close with someone, anyone? You couldn’t remember. Instead, you focused on the stillness, the wholeness of it. It was all quiet.

The kind of quiet that was welcomed.

“Was this what you were expecting?” Din’s voice was bordering on timid; though the joking edge remained. A smile spread along your lips.

“What happened to ‘no more questions’, huh?” Din smiled and you could feel it against his skin. You skirted your thumb along his cheek in a comforting manner. At the touch, Din pressed a kiss to the meat of your palm. With that, the distance, the gap of space between you, closed forever.

746 notes · View notes

korkrunchcereal · 3 years

Text

WoW Q and A

Elaborate on the Chains of Domination cinematic: Story of Anduin and Sylvanas/relationship with the jailer is foundational to Shadowlands. Anduin was dominated. Jailer needed someone like Anduin to be able to walk into Bastion and claim the key. Brief moment of Anduin gaining control in cinematic, so still in there. Chains of Domination will explain more.

When he (Anduin) walks past Uther, did Uther know what was happening or did he feel bad? Couple things going on. His hand touches his wound, made by a weapon of the maw. Uther recognized on some level that power, as well as stirring memories seeing this blonde, kingly figure. Confrontation with Sylvanas in the raid one of the biggest moments in WoW.

Moving from classic to BC while keeping a copy. Whats it going to look like for gold, items/banks. Am I going to see differences or is it two separate entities for all time? Logging in at pre patch will snap a copy of your character. There will be an option to move onto BC classic, or stay in vanilla classic. Can pay a fee and activate “clone” to put them on BC classic if you choose to stay Vanilla. Beta is around the corner.

How will high population numbers be handled in TBC classic? How will you handle bottlenecks, sharding, dailies etc. Recognize high population, want to make sure experience is enjoyable. Optimization improvements to help stabilize servers. Experience of rare material and multiple people going is part of the game. Willing to make targeted changes if there is particular problems.

Will there be more race/class combinations? Player agency and choice is major theme. Customization key, but also want to reinforce differences. Want to maintain a world that doesn’t have exact symmetry. Have gone back over the years to change things. For now, think they’ve gone about far enough. Nothing planned, but never say never.

Surprise on Covenant armor? Based on heritage armor. Pure aesthetic, want to give players more and more options. Gameplay reasons to not tmog the entire range (warrior wearing cloth for example)

Workflow change during pandemic? Happened very suddenly. Team reached to each other to find comfort. The isolation found purpose for devs. Making Shadowlands/games help to reconnect friends and people.

Any plans to address faction imbalance? What happened to cause it? Something talked about a lot. Know there’s a very real problem, particularly high end. What caused the problem? Imbalanced in racials allowed to persist too long. At this point, don’t think racials are imbalanced. People staying Horde however due to social reasons now; compounded issue from all the way back from MoP etc. No real answer. Social issue requires social answer.

Have you ever seen a swing in either faction direction due to story elements? Across the game as a whole, faction balance is pretty good. Its raiding/high end PvE that the imbalances really emerge. Have seen faction switches/more cross faction alts in BfA for example.

If I play BC, when I decide to play on main char and a classic era realm at 60, will I have to name change? You have your name in both places. Ensure people don’t park on names forever.

Any plans to connect more realms? Had to do survey across all populations in all realms. Essentially have to copy an entire realms database onto another. Not a flip a switch thing, lot of work. Have been able to address a large amount of the very low pop. realms. Had to pause for Shadowlands launch due to launch and Shadowlands had huge effects on server populations. Last time they connected realms was right before WoD, and realms had a LOT of queue problems. Watching and waiting for populations to go down before making the jump.

Never gonna have cross faction raids, dungeons etc? Not gonna say never. Essential to hold onto identity but...

Will our amount of Anima be increased later? Is it possible for sanctum upgrades to be account wide? Lot to collect. Hotfixed Anima drops so far. Looking for new sources of Anima for next patch. Over all looking at the costs. Cosmetics are generally account wide. Anima is designed to span the bulk of Shadowlands.

Sire Denathrius is an eternal one and imprisoned. What will he do? Will we see him again? Best laid plans can adapt. During BfA, intended Bwonsamdi to be a one off. There, but no big deal. Once they heard the VA they went “we need more of this character”. Planned for Sire Denathrius to be there, you kill him w/e. Then heard the VA and went “this guys awesome we love him.” Changed plan to keep Sire Denathrius alive. Will find some other role for him to take. Watch fan feedback to see how community responds/gravitate to. He is in that sword, there may just be allies of him that would be interested in liberating him from the sword...

When will we see more Heritage Armor? As each one was released, got more and more excited from response/enhanced feel of the game. Working on further Heritage Armor. Some coming to near future updates, some more in the future.

Any plans to bring back the AH app? Not as you know it perse. It got turned into a lot of automation. Revamp removed app, then change of the AH. Meant to be more of a socialize thing then accumulation of gold by automated system. Recognize however convenience factor. Consider getting back into some form, but not like how it used to be.

Will there be more new character customization options for Shadowlands? None in Shadowlands. Tend to be fairly big projects. Release them when it’ll be very good for players. Lot of work to juggle. Felt like they got good feedback and support from it. Want to invest going forward when it makes sense.

What are actual requirements for flying in Shadowlands? Where can we fly? Can we fly across the realms? Shadowlands pathfinder no rep grind. Just requires completing full covenant campaign (9.0 and 9.1). Cannot fly from zone to zone. Once unlocked, alts will be able to fly freely.

In the BC classic, will there be class tuning that would make it notably different than 2007? Broadly no. Want to keep the authentic behavior of final patch, like classic had. Seal of blood

Is there work being done on new Torghast Anima Powers for later patches? Spec specific, when can we see? WIll be done through all patches/future patches. new powers etc. As for powers working outside Torghast, keep OP nature of them inside Torghast.

Difference between passage of time in Shadowlands and in Azeroth? Salanar the Horseman in DK order hall said he was in the veil for what felt like days and it was between WoTLK and Legion. Meet characters for whom time doesn’t seem to have meaning. What is time a construct of? Order. On Azeroth, understand the passage of time because of influence of titans/order. Outside of the influence of order, time loses meaning. A lot more fluid. Shadowlands about eternities. Can have it perceived differently by different characters even going through same thing.

Bringing back 10-man content, either as different difficulty or different instances for smaller groups to tackle. All raid basically is/can be 10 man. These days its the 5 player mega dungeons that fill the role. In BC, ZA and Kara filled that niche of the smaller group doing the BIG, raid like content. Fulfills the spirit of 10 man content.

Will summoning stones be available at launch of BC or come later? Will have them at launch.

What’s Bolvar up to and where is his story going? Will he have a major role to play? One of the fun parts of Shadowlands was getting Bolvar back into the mix. We saw him be pivotal in Torghast and getting into Shadowlands. Saw there was a price to pay for visions with Torghast. He will be front and center in Chains of Domination. Good rallying figure.

In BC, how will pvp titles be handled without battlegroups? Originally, reward was made for the best player in each battlegroup due to technical reasons. Now that they have better technology, fair way is % based, though still want to keep it small amount.

In Stormwind, Darnassus refugees mention going back once the smoke clears. Does this mean Teldrassil can grow back and become habitable again? The damage was pretty definitive/lot of lives lost. Don’t want to reverse on a whim. The story of the souls of the Night Elves however is not yet done, nor is Tyrande’s story going into Chains of Domination and beyond.

Will fresh classic servers be added in addition to TBC servers? For the timeline of BC classic, no new classic servers. Eyes on it however for the future. Will discuss once BC launches.

How do you get the Wandering Ancient Mount? Got to have Shadowlands. Will be in 9.0.5 patch update next month (March).

#Blizzcon #Blizzcon 2021 #World of Warcraft

24 notes · View notes

poindexterfics · 4 years

Text

Raiden Scenarios 1

Elder God Babe was requested by @severus-snape-blr, the scenario dealer’s choice. I apologize greatly for the long delay, and as a bonus I will include two extra scenarios and Dark Raiden. Enjoy <3

Warnings: Yandere-ish Dark Raiden, Death/Murder

Storm Watching

It had been raining for what felt like an eternity that day.

You never did like when it just rained, only because it felt like such a tease. For what was the joy in rain besides the perfect storm? And then it happened.

The sky lit up with the branching arms of an electrical strike, the noise of its following thunder almost reminiscent of the atmosphere tearing itself asunder. Such was the beauty in organized chaos, the light show putting a smile on your face. But, you were not a fool. It had started off too strong, too coincidental.

Your gaze was still transfixed on the sky over your roofed balcony, even as strong, protective arms snaked around your waist. He never was able to visit on a regular basis, and often did things to make up for it where he could. This was one of those occasions. Your boyfriend’s breath lingered over your neck before he placed a few feathery kisses there out of affection. Leaning into his touch with a small noise of approval, you finally looked over your shoulder to peer at him, your smile growing wider. What had he done to deserve you, he could only wonder. You were always so sweet to him, always so happy to see him, even if he could not be as attentive as he wanted to be. You were the heavens reincarnated on Earthrealm, he was convinced of it. “It’s beautiful, Raiden,” You commented, causing him to obtain a sheepish smile of his own. He thought he had been a little more sneaky about the storm… but, you were very observant. That, or he just wasn’t very stealthy at all. He’d rather believe the former, as special as you were to him. “As are you, my love,” Finally came his reply. It was cheesy, but you very much enjoyed cheesy. One could not blame him for it anyway, for he was so new to romance. You were an experience of many firsts for him, and the loving dynamic you shared made it all the more rewarding.

“Watch the storm with me?” You asked hopefully, turning your gaze back to the illuminated skies. His chin came to rest on the top of your head, his arms never losing their possessive grip on you. “Forever and always.”

Little April Showers

It was a reposeful spring night. The only sounds piercing the air around the pastoral homestead was the chirping of various crickets, and the occasional croaking of the pond frogs.

An Elder God had little to do here, out of place and improper as his presence was in such seemingly frivolous surrounds. And yet, here Raiden was. He laid on his back in the woven hammock, somewhat staring at the sewn designs on the canopy above his resting place. He only tore his gaze from it when a certain entity began to wriggle beside him, a corner of his lips turning upwards into an adoring half-smile.

To say that you were the light of his life was an understatement, as so few words could hardly describe just what all you meant to him. Every time he caught sight of you, all of the stress from his duties melted into a quiet oblivion, and this moment was no different. You breathed rhythmically in your slumber, snuggled firmly into your boyfriend, one of his arms wrapped around you. However, the peace was disturbed when you suddenly began to whimper, your face scrunching as a nightmare took hold of your dreamworld where Raiden could not follow. He pulled you on top of him as both arms held you now, flushed against his chest. The movement rocked the hammock unsteadily, but, once he had settled and kissed your forehead a few times, you were back to your harmonious form of unconsciousness. Rain began to descend, the soft pitter patter against the canopy drowned out by the distant rumble of thunder.

The lull of the country singing with the far off storm had you fall deeper into your sleep, nuzzling closer into the warmth and love of your Elder God.

Charged Up Protection

A few bad decisions were being made the longer the night carried on…

What felt like the 50th drink swirled in your hand as you teetered unsteadily, boisterous laughter shaking your frame. Your friends had to hold you up from time to time, only somewhat regretting their decision in getting you out like this. After all, you had been cooped up in your home for far too long! What was the harm in a little fun? Not to mention, many attractive suitors had their eyes on you! Better for you to finally settle down with someone who could be there for you more often, right? At least, that’s what your friends thought.

The buzz of the alcohol, the flashing lights and the loud music, it had been so long since you had been exposed to such an environment that you were starting to feel a little overwhelmed. Sickly, even. Stumbling as you excused yourself for some fresh air, you hardly noticed the man who followed you outside. Although, when you did become fully aware, you felt the pace of your heartbeat quicken. You had two choices.

Cut through the alley, or stand your ground.

Turning on your heels as the man approached, you crossed your arms and gave the bitchiest face and tone you could muster to appear tough. “Why are you following me?” You asked sharply, eyes narrowed. With how tipsy you were, however, it came out far more slurred and shaky than you had perceived. The man hesitated for a moment, raising his hands to show he was not a threat. “Sorry miss, I saw you leave and you left your-…” He trailed off, staring at something behind you. Not being able to help a glance yourself, you noticed a certain Elder God towering over you. He did NOT look happy at all. In fact, he looked downright pissed. His body was stiff and rigid, his lips pulled tight in his frown, and he was glaring daggers at the man who had come out with you. While the intentions were not evil, they still were far from innocent, and Raiden would not tolerate it. “Leave us,” He growled. Without another word, the stranger hurried back inside and left you two be. “Rai-” You were quickly interrupted. “Are you hurt? What took you?” The Elder God questioned as he gave you a glance over, noticing your wobbly disposition. His voice softened, as did his expression. “You need to have a care, little one…” He breathed as he pulled you close, not giving you much of an opportunity to answer his previous inquiries. Instead, he picked you up, causing you to wrap your arms around his neck while he supported your weight in his grasp. He seemed to think that you had been forced to come here. Better to leave that thought be, until you were sober enough to properly recall how you even let yourself get dragged here in the first place. For now, you were in for a night of pampering and TLC, and your aching body would definitely need that for the miserable morning that would inevitably come...

Dark Raiden! Unwavering Protection

You had two choices.

Cut through the alley, or stand your ground. Ducking to the side and hurrying through the sudden darkness, you only needed a few more steps to reach the street on the other side. Your break for freedom, however, was cut short when your arm was grabbed, and you were unable to help the cry of surprise. “Wait, miss, you forgot-” The man’s voice was cut off by his own gasp, his body thrown into the brick wall on the other side. So strong had the force been, he had cracked the bricks, stumbling into a heap on the ground. Hurt, but alive. Alarmed, you turned to your protector. You needed to calm him down, or he would do far worse. Raiden’s gaze dripped with venom, electricity of red malice ripping through him. Yet, before he could take a step, you grabbed hold of his hand. The touch was enough to divert his attention, the corrupted Elder God looking you up and down. His glowing eyes still contained their anger, but you held him steady. “I’m okay, Raiden,” You whispered softly, flashing him a sweet smile to convince him. You took his other hand, letting him feel you. “See? I’m still here.” The Elder God scowled. “Have you no sense at all, Y/n?” His tone was harsh, but it did not neglect the true feelings he was having. He had been scared for you when he did not find you where he had last left you. “I’m sorry,” You hummed, leaning further into him as you finally felt the exhaustion taking over you. “Can we please go home?” He glanced back over to the man that had defiled you in his eyes, tightening his jaw before looping his arm around you and leading you back to your apartment just a few blocks down the street. While he did take good care of you, giving you a bath and helping you into bed-- Raiden was unusually quiet. Less affectionate, less domineering… in fact, he didn’t seem to be having any emotions at all. Too tired, however, you let yourself fall into your slumber under his watchful gaze. And when you were completely out, the Elder God left. You never found out what happened to that man from the bar. Perhaps it was better you hadn’t. He had been found by authorities, covered in electrical burns, broken and bloody. It was a gruesome death. Thing was, his intentions involving you had never been terrible. That, however, did not matter to the Elder God who had claimed you as his own. He had to take the necessary precautions to protect you-- And that included threats that had yet to be realized.

#mortal kombat #mk #raiden #mk raiden #raiden x reader #mk raiden x reader #mortal kombat x reader #mk x reader #mortal kombat imagines #mk imagines #mk dark raiden #mortal kombat dark raiden #dark raiden #dark raiden x reader #mk dark raiden x reader #mortal kombat dark raiden x reader #mortal kombat raiden #no i did not forget that #yandere dark raiden

230 notes · View notes