#to create an altar to me and i would give her the answers (made her laugh <3) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

senditcolton · 4 months

Text

hits different

do you think i have forgotten... about you?

series masterlist | playlist | word count: 9.3k a/n: here it is! the finale of the "we're a bad idea" series. it's crazy to think that this series started on a complete whim and turned into this. i had so much fun writing this for you all and screaming about it with you and... gosh, just, thank you for all your support! I hope you all love this conclusion as much as I do. warnings: feminine reader, teammate's sister, age gap. smut! heavy handsy make out, oral (f receiving), protected penetrative sex. Disclaimer: Reading/creating content for married players isn’t for everyone. Please don’t read if you don’t vibe with it, but don’t attack me or others!

It felt like something out of a goddamn movie.

The way your eyes locked onto each other the very moment you settled next to Shannon at the altar. How the scent of the flowers that Emily had chosen for your bouquet suddenly became overwhelming. The feeling of heat that rushed through you – a heat that had nothing to do with the warm July afternoon and everything to do with the blue eyes that had captured you under their gaze.

Not the mention the film reel flashback that replayed in your head of those months when you allowed him into your bed and into your heart. And how he broke you into a million pieces and sent you running to Los Angeles to escape his hold on you.

Almost two years and three-thousand miles between you and him. You thought that would be enough.

But, even after all of that, it seems that you still couldn’t forget Matt Martin.

And based on the beating echoing through your ribcage, it was obvious that your wretched heart failed to remember how much it hurt whenever he was around.

The string music dancing on the breeze lifts to a crescendo and you almost scoff at the irony; like the universe itself was trying to arrange a reunion worthy of an Oscar-winning romance. Then you heart stutters when you see Matt lift from his seat, his eyes still locked on your frame and you fear that a love confession was about to fall from his lips.

Thankfully, that doesn’t happen. Instead, he turns from you, directing his gaze down the aisle.

The embarrassment rushes through your body and you have to shake your head at your dramatics; at the way you made yourself the main character in a moment that was anything but yours.

This was Scotty and Emily’s moment – their wedding, for Christs sake. Your eyes divert to the end of the aisle, watching as your soon to be sister-in-law walk to your brother, her stunning white dress flowing behind her. You sneak a glance at Scotty, watching his eyes water as Emily takes those final steps towards him. This was the reason you were here. Not Matt Martin.

Somehow, you manage to make it through the entire ceremony without looking out to the audience and those ocean blue eyes. When you walk back up the aisle for the recessional, your arm linked in Sebastian’s, your gaze locks with Matt’s once again before he disappears from your sight.

It’s a moment of reprieve as you sneak back into the cabin where you and the rest of the bridesmaids had spent the night, a deep breath lifting your chest.

You should’ve known he would be here. He was your brother’s teammate, a fact that you were all too aware of when this tryst began. Still, you hoped you wouldn’t have to face him. Not because you hated him or because you had moved on. But because there was still a part of you that craved him, that couldn’t let him go.

There was an ache in you and it felt like only he could heal it.

How? The answer to that question was still uncertain. You didn’t know if you needed him to apologize, or give you closure, or tell you everything you’ve always wanted him say. But you weren’t ready for it, whatever it was.

And when you walk into the reception area where the guests waited, your heart proves how unprepared you were based its reaction when your eyes find Matt. And the gymnastic routine it does when you realize that he was seated at your table, only a few spaces away from you.

Dinner is excruciating. It feels like a choreographed routine as you stop your head from drifting too far to the right to look in Matt’s direction, pretending that you don’t feel the weight of his stare, laser-focused on the toasts and your brother’s first dance. And when the dance floor opens and the mingling begins, the reason you fly from your chair was to greet other guests, performing your duty as a bridesmaid.

Not because you were desperate to delay the inevitable conversation you knew you had to have with the one man you had been avoiding.

Blissfully, a familiar voice calls to you from across the space and your eyes lock onto Mat Barzal, frantically waving at you from one of the other tables. You smile, walking over to him as he rises from his chair and hugs you, your name falling from his lips with that bright cheerfulness that you heard so frequently over Facetime calls and nights out in LA when the Islanders came to California.

“How are you doing, Barzy?” you ask, pulling away from the hug.

“Pretty good,” he replies, his hand falling to the shoulder of the pretty brunette occupying the seat next to him. “Have I introduced you to Lyla yet?”

“Well, you’ve talked about her enough that I feel like I’ve met her before,” you laugh as you steal Mat’s seat from him, holding out your hand before formally introducing yourself. “Good to officially meet the girl that stole this idiot’s heart.”

“Nice to finally meet you too,” Lyla says, taking your hand in hers. “Although, I will be honest, when I first saw your name on Mat’s phone and how many Facetime calls the two of you shared, I was a little concerned. Thought you were a long-distance girlfriend or something.”

“Completely understandable,” you laugh, admiring her candor. “But there’s nothing to worry about. He’s a little too sweet for me.”

“I’m standing right here,” Mat huffs and you look up at him with a smirk.

“It’s nothing you haven’t heard before.”

Your relationship with Mat Barzal was the one thing that had shifted in the years you were away but it definitely changed for the better. He had turned from a potential romantic partner to a true friend. That shift – one that was brought on after a night of too many French Blonde cocktails – lifted a weight off both of your shoulders and opened the door for an even deeper connection with star winger.

“I hear that I have you to thank for him asking me on a date,” Lyla says.

“I did nothing but push Mat to ask for the number of the pretty girl at the gym that he spent almost a half-an-hour raving about,” you laugh, loving the way both Lyla and Mat’s cheeks flushed. “You had him whipped before he even knew your name.”

“Oh, trust me, I figured that out eventually,” Lyla jokes and you can’t help but scoot in, ready to hear all the embarrassing stories that Lyla was willing to share. And share she did. It seems like hours of laughter and conversation, Mat even dragging a chair over and joining in – although most of his comments are attempts to defend himself. Eventually, Lyla gets up to run to the ladies room, departing with a kiss on Mat’s cheek and you can’t stop the smile that appears when Mat’s eyes stay glued to her as she walks away.

“I like her,” you say, calling his attention back to you. “She’s way too good for the likes of you.”

“Oh, I know,” he laughs, taking your jest in stride before sipping his beer. You see his hazel eyes bounce across the room, pausing momentarily before they return to you. “Have you talked to him yet?”

A sigh rushes through you as you shake your head.

“I still can’t believe I told you about him.”

“You told me like… eight months ago. Besides, you can only blame yourself.”

“Hey, I can also blame copious amounts of alcohol.”

“Yeah, alcohol that loosened your tongue and sent his name falling out of your mouth,” Mat quips, his eyebrow raising. “Along with your dinner.”

“Please don’t remind me,” you say, your mind jumping back to the night in question.

It was November, when the Islanders played Los Angeles. You and Mat met up at a local bar – just the two of you and it was that night that your relationship changed completely. Because in your inebriated state, Matt Martin’s name slurred from your lips while Barzy was attempting to shove you into an Uber.

Despite facing the wrath of his coaches, Mat helped you back to your apartment and kept you company that night, his reasoning being that he wanted to make sure you were alright and a California road trip allowing him the time to do so. It was over greasy eggs and bacon that he asked why you said Marty’s name. And you told him.

You even told him about the night of the charity gala, emphasizing that you never meant to use him like that. And that the reason why you never took him up on his offer to be more than friends was because you didn’t want to use him more, keep giving him false hope.

The truth stung him for a few days but after giving him the time and space he needed, the honesty and clarity brought the two of you closer. Now, he was the only person in your life that knew the whole story of why you left Long Island. And, like the good friend he was, he kept your secret all that time.

“You know you’re going to have to speak to him at some point,” Mat prods.

“I know,” you quip, playfully rolling your eyes. “Doesn’t mean I can’t avoid him for a few more minutes.”

“You’ve been avoiding him for almost two years. Don’t know if a few minutes is going to help.”

“When did you get so wise?”

“You can thank Lyla for that,” he smiles and you watch his whole expression soften at the mere sound of her name.

“She makes you happy.”

The sentence is more statement than question. You were there on the other end of the line when he talked about the first time he saw her. You gave him pep-talks and advice on how to ask her out. You helped him plan dates and dinners. It was obvious that this girl was something special to him.

“Happier than I’ve been in a while.”

“Then why are you still sitting here talking to me?” you say. “Dance at a wedding with your girlfriend.”

“Alright, I will,” Mat laughs, standing. He doesn’t depart immediately, choosing instead to lean over to you with a serious look in hie eye. “But you have to promise me you’ll talk to Marty.”

Another sigh escapes you as you let your head turn to look at the reception hall, your eyes glancing off the crowd of guests before landing on Matt, leaning against the wall, talking to Cal and his wife. As if he can feel your eyes on him, his gaze drifts to you and you watch a myriad of emotions dance on his face, each so subtle and fleeting that you couldn’t even begin to decipher what he was thinking.

“He’s been asking about you, you know,” Mat’s voice sounds, pulling your attention back to him.

“He has?”

“Yeah. Asking me, Scotty, Emily, anyone really. How you’re doing, what you’re doing.”

“What have you told him?”

“Just surface level stuff: your job, your complaints about the weather and LA traffic, things like that. It seems like he wants to talk to you,” Mat says. “So, you should talk to him. If nothing else, you might at least get some closure.”

You exhale, you mid swirling with the information that Matt Martin was still thinking about you, maybe in the same way you were thinking about him. Your head was a mess of doubts and hopes and fears and longing and desires. You just breathe through it all, pulling Mat into another hug which he reciprocates.

“You’re a really good friend, you know that right?” you ask, your voice muffled by his tuxedo.

“So I’ve been told by this really cool Los Angeles girl who overthinks everything.”

You laugh as you let your arms fall, Mat shooting you that crooked smile before he is walking away. You see him intercept Lyla as she re-enters the reception area, taking her arm in his and pulling her to the dancefloor, the smile on her face brightening as Mat leans in and kisses her cheek.

There was a part of you that twinged at the sight. You knew it was jealousy – not the traditional jealousy but a different form. You weren’t angry that Mat found joy with someone that wasn’t you, but envious that he found someone, period.

Especially since you were unable to move on from the man you shared a scandalous but exhilarating few months with. The man you promised yourself you would forget.

But then you hear his voice sound from behind you and feel that exquisite ache that you had never been able to soothe throb in the center of your chest.

“Hey.”

You turn to see him standing behind you, his suit looking almost too perfect for his body, his hair tousled and falling over his forehead. You watch as his blue eyes rove over your face and you wonder what he’s thinking and if all the same emotions are flooding his system the way they were yours.

“Hi,” you whisper, cursing your voice for coming out sounding so timid, cursing yourself for still allowing Matt Martin to make you feel small. But instead of that cool smirk that used to always appear at the sound of your frailty, his face remains impassive, his eyes flicking down to the now vacant seat next to you.

“Could I sit?” he asks and your head spins, not only because of the gentleness of the question but the fact that he even asked at all. The Matt Martin you used to know would’ve sat down immediately, invading your space boldly and brazenly for no other reason than to get a rise out of you.

You nod, watching him settle down into the cushioned seat and take a sip from his whiskey glass, his eyes still on you. It takes an immense amount of effort to break your gaze as you reach for your own wine and letting the smooth oaked flavor dance over your tongue.

“How have you been?” Matt breaks the silence again and you know you hear a hesitance in his voice, like he is unsure if he should even be addressing you.

“I’ve been alright,” you reply, your own voice thick with trepidation. “You?”

“It’s been decent.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, and his eyebrows quirk up in curiosity at your words. “For your injury. The playoffs,” you elaborate. Your gaze stays locked on him, trying to understand the micro-expressions that pass over his face.

“Thank you,” he replies and you just nod, taking another sip of your wine. “Didn’t know if you were even watching.”

“Wanted to support my brother.”

“Right,” he sighs. “Of course.”

You hated this. Hated the weight that hung over the two of you like a lead curtain, making anything beyond small talk too difficult to say. You weren’t sure how to surmount this obstacle, not sure if it was even possible to overcome. But someone had to be brave and attempt that first step.

With a deep breath and another sip of liquid courage, you turn you attention back to Matt.

“Was there… something you wanted to ask me?” you question, the words as stilted and unclear as the intention behind them.

Matt looks at you, his blue eyes wide as he absorbs your words. It is a moment of stillness before he is finishing off his whiskey and setting the glass on the table, lifting himself out of his chair. Your heart flips in fear that you said the wrong thing, that you ruined the moment before it could even take shape but that concern is silenced when Matt stands in front of you, holding out his hand, his palm upturned.

“Dance with me?”

Of all the questions that you thought Matt Martin would confront you with, this was one that you were not prepared for. A sentiment that is echoed by a bewildered ‘what?’ falling from your lips.

“Will you dance with me?” Matt reiterates, the request turning into a genuine question. Would you let him take you out onto the dance floor and into his arms again?

Your eyes rove from his face to his hand, still outstretched. The hesitance lingers in you reflected by the way you lift your own hand, your fingers curling back in a moment of uncertainty before you allow them to touch his. They glide against his calloused skin, wrapping around his palm, his own fingers winding around your hand.

Another glance up at him shows you the slightest smile playing at his lips. But it isn’t twinged with the familiar undercurrent of cruelty or power. Instead, it looks like relief.

He gently tugs you upright before leading you to the dancefloor, the refrain of a slow melody encompassing you moments before Matt’s arms do the same. He adjusts the grip on your hand while the other finds a respectful place on the small of your back. You let your own free hand lift and rest delicately on his bicep as the two of you begin to sway.

The silence between you remains even as the music rises and falls. You still avoid looking in Matt’s eyes, content to stare at the hardwood floor even though you can feel the weight of his gaze. In the back of your mind, you knew that if your eyes locked with his, you wouldn’t be able to keep your composure. That possibility was to be avoided at all costs. You couldn’t let Matt Martin regain the control over you that he used to have.

“You look beautiful.”

Those three muttered words, the compassion behind them, makes your resolve crumble, your eyes darting up to meet with his.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice breathless – the exact opposite of the curtness you wanted your tone to convey. But perhaps it wasn’t your choice to soften your words. Maybe it was subconscious, based on the way that Matt held you, the way he spoke to you, the way he looked at you. It felt different.

He was different.

“I missed you,” he whispers; the first real confession of the night.

“Matt,” you sigh, the cynic jumping out to protect your heart – the one that he shattered.

“I know,” he says. “I know what you’re going to say.”

“How can you?” you challenge him, the small flame of anger that you held flickering in your chest.

“You’re right. I have no idea what you were about to say. But I can make a guess.”

His words extinguish that resentment as soon as it appears, your eyebrow raising in surprise – not only towards his words but in his concession to you, he deference of power, the pendulum swinging in your favor. Your silence allows him to continue.

“I know I haven’t given you any reason to trust me,” he begins. “For you to believe anything I say is the truth. But I guess… I’m just wondering if you would give me a chance. Let me prove it to you.”

“Prove what to me?”

“How much I missed you. How much I care about you.”

He pulls your closer to him and you allow it. You let him hold you tighter until your chests press together, the smell of his all too familiar cologne flooding your senses. You swear you forget how to breathe when you feel his hand trace up your arm before resting against your jawline. The gentle press of his fingers guides you to look up at him, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“Let me prove that I was an idiot for ever letting you go.”

You can feel the tears prick the corner of your eyes and you know Matt can see them, watching as they well up on your lower lashes. His words seemed so sweet, so genuine, and you so desperately wanted to believe them. But there was still that voice in the back of your mind screaming, ‘this is what he does; he’s an expert at speaking these saccharine words but you know they’re never fulfilling.’

But here, now, he was promising to prove it to you.

The words of acceptance are dancing up your throat, hanging on the tip of your tongue and at the edge of your lips. But before you can speak them into existence, the universe silences you once again.

“Alright everyone, please clear the dance floor and let the bride and groom have one private last dance. Make your way to the front entrance and get ready to send them off in style!”

The MC’s voice booms from the speaker, pulling your attention and your body away from the gentle hold of Matt. The uncertainty and distrust take advantage of the interruption to reassert itself in your mind.

‘This was a sign,’ it said. ‘The universe is protecting you from getting your heart broken again.’

But when you look back, your eyes connecting to Matt’s once more and you still see nothing but yearning on his face, you feel your own longing surge again.

“Meet me by the fountain when this is all over?” you ask.

“I’ll be there.”

This time, you really do believe him.

You meet with the rest of the bridesmaids and hand out the silver streamers. You are blessed with an immense amount of coordination and impeccable timing as the streamers pop right as Scotty and Emily make their way through the crowd and hop in the car, already packed with their suitcases and honeymoon plane tickets. It is another few moments of clean up and meeting with the wedding coordinator before you are able to run back to the cabin where you and the other bridesmaids stayed for the past two days. You grab your overnight duffle bag, slinging it over your shoulder before making your way through the country club and out to the garden near the front entrance.

The two aspects of your personality were still at war with each other as you entered the terrace. Part of you prayed that Matt would keep his word and be there, just like he said. The other part prepared itself for the possibility that this was all just a cruel joke, an elaborate attempt for him to keep his hooks in you.

But when you walk out and see Matt standing next to the stone fountain, his profile illuminated by the garden lights, your desire once again silences the doubt in your mind.

You wanted to trust him. Sure, you might get hurt. But you could also heal.

That hope was worth the risk.

Matt hears your heels clacking against the pavement and turns to face you, his lips curling in a gentle smile at your approach.

“You’re here,” you say, breathless, as if your brain still didn’t trust that this wasn’t all a dream.

“I told you I would be,” he replies, holding out his hand to you again, another offering for you to accept or reject. This time, your hand slides easily into his, your fingers intertwining.

There is a pause, as if neither of you expected to be in this situation. Now that you were, you were both unsure what to do next. The uncertainty sinks into you, your voice breaking the silence in an attempt to continue the moment.

“I was planning on getting a room at the hotel airport,” you explain. “If you want to join me.”

You swear you see a flash of surprise cross Matt’s face at your suggestion before softening, a look of gentle exasperation painted on his features.

“Is that how you think I’m going to make it up to you?” he asks. His tone isn’t frustrated or offended. Instead, it’s curious, like he truly wonders if that’s what you thought of him. Or if that’s what you needed from him.

The ache that rushes through your body, reminiscent of the desire you always felt towards him but multiplied tenfold, gives you your answer. The months you spent denying your hunger for him, the ways you explained away the pain of losing him as something akin to withdrawal, how you used those brief moments of happiness to justify your choice to leave, keeping you handcuffed to the idea that you would be better off without him… they all melted away.

You wanted him. You’ve always wanted him.

You step forward, pressing your body close as you look into those eyes that haunted your dreams.

“It’s how I want you to,” you whisper, the response to his question cutting through the night air.

There is no clear indication on who moved first but you find it doesn’t matter when you feel the press of Matt’s lips against yours. This kiss itself is delicate, as if he was careful not to cross any line, any boundary that you wanted to place. But you had no sense of restraint.

Your desire surged forward, free from the cage that you kept it locked in. You release your grip on his hand and your duffle bag, your free hands flying up to his hair, tangling in the silky locks as your body presses impossibly closer. Matt takes your desperation in stride, his own arms wrapping around you, holding you steady. Your tongue presses against the seam of his lips, silently begging for access which he gives. A whimper escapes your throat, the taste of him on your tongue only increasing your craving. You can feel Matt’s grip tighten in response to your sounds, his fingers crumpling the silk fabric of your dress as he swallows every desperate noise that he pulls from you.

Somehow, the kisses slow until your lips are falling away from each other. Matt keeps you near, your forehead pressed against his, the warmth of his breath fanning across your cheekbones.

“Let me take you home,” he murmurs and you don’t even think twice before your head is nodding in agreement.

The car ride back to his place feels both familiar and foreign. The air between you is still thick with need but those powerful emotions are lightened by the feeling of Matt’s fingers intertwining with yours over the center console, the way his eyes dart over to you, looking at you as if he couldn’t believe this was real. You were sure that your face conveyed the same thought.

He pulls into the driveway, the porchlight gleaming like a beacon in the darkness, calling you back to him. His grip around you is firm as he walks you to the front door, escorting you across the threshold and your eyes take in the sight of a house that you felt you knew like the back of your hand. The pillows on his couch were different as was some of the art lining the walls but besides that, it looked exactly how it did the last time you were there.

You hear Matt kick off his shoes behind you and you aren’t sure if it’s habit or muscle memory that pulls you forward, your own heels tapping against the hardwood as you wander deeper, your body guiding you to the staircase. Your hand wraps around the wooden railing as you begin your ascent to the second floor. Matt is close behind you, his own steps slow and measured as he lets you guide him up the stairs and to the first door on your right.

The master bedroom is more of the same, the smallest and subtlest of changes catching your attention as you walk into the room. You can hear the small click of the door latch finding home echo and you turn to see Matt leaning against the doorframe, his eyes observing you in the low lamplight.

Your smile is all the encouragement he needs to push himself away from the door, crossing the distance stretched between you in only a few steps. His hand lifts to cup your face, your eyes locking with his before he is capturing your lips in another kiss.

In the safety and security of his bedroom, it seems as if both of your desires were unleashed with a vengeance. His hands pull you closer and your own scramble on his body, wanting to feel every inch of him, wanting to recommit his shape to memory. You are pressed against him, pushing him deeper into the room, your feet moving across the carpeted floor. He lets you manipulate him, walking backward and holding you against him as if he wanted no space to separate the two of you ever again, be it three-thousand miles or three inches.

It isn’t long until his body is falling to sit on the edge of his mattress, his thighs spreading to pull you between them. His desire to have you close is reciprocated, your body moving on its own accord. Your hand mindlessly reaches down to grip the fabric of your dress, pulling the midi hem higher to allow you to climb into his lap without hinderance, your legs straddling his waist.

Matt’s hands grip you tighter, pulling you close, the movement of his lips against yours never ceasing. Your own hands return to tangle in his hair, the taste of him more intoxicating than all the bottles and glasses of alcohol that you drank trying to forget him.

If possible, your desire ratchets up another level and your hands fall from his hair, tugging off his suit jacket. You blindly reach for his tie, undoing the knot as Matt’s hands wander all over your body, grabbing your ass, pulling your hips down to meet his. A moan rumbles from your chest as you feel the hardness of him pressed against you, your lips falling from Matt’s. He doesn’t seem affected, his own lips moving to kiss your neck, his hands still tracing your curves.

You are blind with lust as Matt’s head dips across your collarbones and the top of your decolletage and you let your instincts guide you, your fingers finding the buttons of his dress shirt. Each clasp is unfastened deftly and as soon as the shirt falls open, your hands sneak underneath the fabric, pressing against Matt’s warm skin. You can feel the strength of his chest, the movement of his muscles, and the pounding of his heart underneath your palms as they glide up, pushing the material off his broad shoulders. Matt’s hands only depart from your body momentarily to rid the shirt from his frame completely before he is pulling your lips to his again.

Your hands drift back down to his abdomen and you can feel his muscles clench in response to your gentle touch. It’s another generous roll of your hips against his before your fingertips find the button and zipper of his slacks. You blindly undo them just enough that you can slip your hand beneath both the waistband of his pants and boxer briefs.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Matt groans against your skin as your hand wraps around his length. Another rush of heat flows through your body at hearing the familiar pet-name fall from his lips. Your own lips twist in a smile as you give him a few languid strokes, relishing in the way his moans vibrate against your skin – the way he weakens for you.

The need to make him unravel more takes over as you begin to pull away from him, your body scooting back in order to dismount and fall to your knees in front of him. But before you could even drop a single foot onto the carpeted floor, Matt’s hands hold you firm, halting your motions.

“No,” he whispers, pulling you back to him. “Not tonight.”

You stare at him, your eagerness to have him in your mouth mixing with the confusion of why he was preventing you from doing just that. The immediate response he gives you is another kiss, his hand returning to rest against your jaw. When he does pull away, you hear his sultry timbre echo around the room.

“I should be the one on my knees worshipping you, not the other way around.”

His declaration burns through you, igniting a need that had been left untapped for years.

You were used to submitting to Matt Martin. You thought that you loved it. But now, here he was ready to bow to you and your desires and your will. That thought alone made a fire pool in your lower stomach, your lips pressing against his again.

His hands tighten against your skin, securing his grip on you as he lifts himself from the bed with you in his arms. The sensation of the smooth sheets pressing against your back is almost instantaneous, Matt’s lips falling from yours to retrace their previous pathway along your jaw, down the column of your throat and across your collarbones. You are about to lift yourself upright to pull the material of your dress away from your frame but Matt’s arms keep you pinned against the mattress. Instead, his hand simply tugs the fabric up, painstakingly exposing more of your skin to the cool air until the silk is bunched around your waist.

You feel Matt’s smile against your skin as his lips continue their descent, kisses placed against your stomach before he presses a whisper of one right above the edge of your panties.

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispers, his eyes darting up to look at you.

The only sound that your voice can manage is a whine but it’s enough for Matt, his elegant fingers hooking and twisting around your waistband. Your head falls back as you lift your hips to help him pull the soft cotton away. He tugs the material down your legs at a painstaking pace, lifting your feet to unhook the elastic from around your ankles.

You expect – no, you need him to return to the apex of your thighs. But you soon realize how much Matt meant it when he said he planned on worshipping you.

His hands guide your feet to rest on his muscular thighs as his finger unbuckle your shoe, sliding it off before repeating the action on the other side. He lifts your leg, your bare heel now resting on the back of his shoulder and you sigh when you feel his lips press against your calf. They linger as he makes his way back up your frame, a kiss pressed on your shin, your knee, your inner thigh.

It feels like reverence. It feels like devotion – to you, to the way you make him feel.

Your hand reaches down, tangling in his hair and gently tugging him closer to the place you needed him most. Matt lets you guide him and, after he brings both of your legs to rest on his shoulders, his arm wrapping around your waist, pinning your hips to the bed, he finally – finally – presses his mouth against your core.

A relieved sigh escapes your chest as Matt’s lips move, his tongue darting out to trace your folds. Your sighs turn to whimpers to moans as he continues his ministrations, remembering all the things that make your breathing hitch, your thighs shake. Remembering all the ways you come undone.

“Still so sweet,” he murmurs. “Still so desperate for me.”

He resumes his movements, winding you up in the most deliberate way. Your free hand twists into the sheets as he drags you closer to the edge, his tongue diving into your cunt before lifting to flick against your clit, the action causing your hips to jolt from beneath his strong arm. You swear that you are about to rip his sheets based on how tight you are holding them.

You’re too strung out to see Matt’s eyes lift, him noticing the death grip you have on the soft cotton covering the mattress. In your haze, you can feel the grip he has on your thigh loosen and depart but your mind doesn’t understand the reason until you feel his hand dancing across your fingers twisted in the sheets, silently coaxing you to release the fabric. You do and as soon as there is space, his fingers filling the gaps between yours, holding your hand tightly as his mouth continues to work its sinful magic against you.

Your orgasm hits you unexpectedly, your back arching off the bed as the tidal wave of pleasure crashes through your body, radiating from your stomach down to the tips of each limb. Your hand tightens around his so firmly that you believe you must be cutting off circulation. But Matt doesn’t seem to mind, squeezing your hand tighter in response. He moans against your core in response to the taste of your release flooding his tongue, the vibration sending another round of shudders down your spine.

The feeling of Matt’s mouth and hands leaving you ignites a new wave of desperation, one that is only partially satiated when he returns to hover over you, kissing you deeply. You moan into his mouth when you taste the tang of your own essence still coating his tongue.

“I can’t believe I forgot how good you were at that,” you exhale when your lips fall from his.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget how gorgeous you look when you cum,” he murmurs, his head dipping down to your neck, his quiet assertation making you smile.

You let him press his lips against your throat, content to lay beneath him for the moment. But when you feel his hips roll against yours, his own hunger for you and your body not yet satisfied, another ache of need hits you. You pull his head back up to your face, capturing his lips in another feverish kiss.

Matt’s body hovers mere centimeters above yours, his hips pressed against you. The position makes it easy for you to hook your leg around him. Using what strength you had, you somehow manage to flip the two of you around, Matt’s back crashing onto the bed, your body now suspended above him.

You break the kiss, lifting yourself upright with a grin on your face as your hands trace over the ridges of his chest. His own hands dance up your thighs, sneaking beneath the hem of your dress to caress the soft skin around your hipbones. In the span of a breath, your fingers bunch the silken material of your gown, gathering it in your hands before you pull the fabric over your head.

The gentle sharp inhale of Matt’s breath as your body becomes entirely exposed to him is music to your ears. There is no stopping his hands as they continue to drift up your body, gliding over the curves of your hips and waist, dancing across your ribcage before coming to cup your breasts. He caresses the sensitive skin, his thumbs reaching to brush against your nipples causing your head to fall back, a soft plea for him to continue falling from your mouth. He listens, his fingers roving across your body, as if there was not an inch of skin that he wanted to leave untouched.

“Such a gorgeous perfect body,” he mutters, making the pool of desire within you fill again.

You lift your hips up only so far as to reach behind you, tugging at the fabric of his slacks and boxer briefs; a silent request. His hands fall from your body to pull the material down his legs and you feel him kick off the only remaining barriers between your bodies. You lean forward as you kiss him again, your hips sinking back down. A simultaneous moan escapes both of you as you grind against him, your arousal coating the soft skin of his shaft.

There is want and then there is pure unadulterated need and the latter is what takes a hold of you now. Your lips fall from his as you stretch your body forward, your arm reaching for the nightstand drawer, the place he used to – and now you hope still does – keep his condoms. Your progress is halted briefly by Matt’s head lifting to wrap his lips around your nipples, the action making another gasp sound your throat. You persevere, albeit somewhat distracted because of Matt’s ministrations, pulling open the drawer, relieved to see the box in the same place, thankful that not everything had changed.

But as you reach for one of the square packets, your eyes land on a stack of envelopes pushed against the other side and you swear you see your name scrawled across the white paper. You don’t have any time to linger on them as you feel Matt’s teeth gently nip at your skin, pulling your attention back to him.

“Please, darling, hurry up,” he implores, dark blue eyes looking up to you. “Need to get inside you.”

Who were you to deny him?

Your fingers grasp the foil, your body returning to its upright position above him. You rip open the packet, pulling the rubber from the confines and preparing it before you reach behind you, taking Matt in your hand. He throws his head back, his hair haloing around his face as you give him a few languid strokes before sliding the condom on.

There is no waiting, no more hesitation as you lift your hips up. Your free hand presses against the center of his chest for balance as you guide him to your entrance. You aren’t sure if it’s him or yourself you’re teasing when you slide the tip of him against your folds once, twice before you align yourself to him.

Your mouth falls open in a silent moan as you sink down, the stretch of him entering you delectably foreign and yet comfortingly familiar. Matt has a similar reaction to the sensation of your walls wrapping around him, his hands flying up to your hips, his grip tightening around you so much so that you swear you’re going to have bruises in the shape of his fingerprints the next morning.

“Fuck, darling,” he growls as your hips meet his, him bottoming out inside of you. “Still feel like fucking heaven around me.”

Your only response is a whimper as your eyes flutter shut, both of your hands now resting on his chest, using him for leverage as you begin to move. Matt guides the motion of your hips, helping you bounce on top of him, letting you grind against him, more sharp gasps falling from your lips as your clit rubs against the taut skin of his lower stomach.

“That’s it sweetheart,” he praises, fingers brushing against your skin as you ride him. “Take what you want from me. It’s yours to have.”

You whine, grinding your hips even deeper onto him, one of your hands lifting to tease your nipples. You missed this, the feeling of Matt hitting spots so deep in you, spots that no one else had been able to find before and since.

“God, I missed this,” Matt groans, echoing your thoughts, his eyes devouring your body. “Missed you.”

His words force you to open your eyelids and when your eyes lock, you almost cum simply from the way he is staring at you: like you were the most beautiful piece of artwork, like you were sculpted from the purest marble, crafted from the finest paints. Like you deserved to be hung in the Louvre.

“Matt,” you whine, his name falling from your lips in a plea as your movements falter against him.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asks, his own voice strained and earnest. “What do you need?”

“Need you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?” he questions. But unlike the times before, he’s not asking in order to tease you, to be cruel, or to force you to beg him for a mere sliver of his attention. He is asking because he wants to hear you say it – wants to hear you confess that you’ve missed him and that you’ve been wanting him as much as he has been wanting you.

“Please,” you reply. “Please, I need it. I need you.”

Your words aren’t twinged with contempt, nor are they wretched from your mouth unwillingly. They fall from your lips because you mean them, because you want to beg for him – not the other way around.

A gasp is torn from your chest as Matt lifts himself up, his chest pressing against yours. His hands trace your spine, one burrowing into the hair at the nape of your neck, the other resting heavy on the small of your back. He pulls you to him, kissing you again and swallowing every noise that falls from your lips as he drags your hips into his.

You weren’t sure if it was because you were wound too tight or that you truly couldn’t comprehend what was happening because before you knew it, Matt had spun you around, flipping you once again so you were the one laying against the sheets. Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips and before you can moan at the feeling of him thrusting into you, your sounds are muffled by his lips again.

Matt eventually breaks away, one arm reaching back to grip your thigh, pulling one leg higher, the new angle causing every stroke of him to brush against that damnable spot that made you see stars. You cry out, your head collapsing against the bed, Matt’s name falling from your lips.

“Fuck, I missed this,” Matt mutters, keeping his steady pace as he watches your body respond to his movements. “Missed how beautiful you look underneath me. Missed this perfect fucking pussy. Fucking taking all of me like it’s made for me.”

His possessiveness makes you whimper, the high-pitched sound catching his ear.

“That right, baby?” he asks. “This cunt still mine, even after all this time?”

“Yes,” comes your reply, wrapped in a strangled moan. “I’m all yours. I’m still yours,” you gasp out, your hips desperately chasing his.

“And I’m all yours,” Matt replies, his head dropping down to kiss you again. “Let it out, sweetheart. Let me hear you.”

He doesn’t speed up, content to keep his languid pace, steadily driving you towards that cliff. The noises that escape you are incoherent, a jumbled mess of curses and pleas as your walls flutter desperately around him. It feels like the most deliberate and exquisite torture, a pleasure that you would welcome time and time again if he would let you.

“Come on, darling,” you hear Matt’s voice whisper in your ear. “Remind me how good it feels when that beautiful cunt cums around me.”

It is the quiet demand that has you falling off the edge, your muscles stiffening as your orgasm hits you. You can hear a faint growl rumble from Matt, murmured praise being spoken into your skin like a prayer as he fucks you through it, your legs trembling as they fall from him.

Matt’s movements finally increase in speed as he chases own climax, each move of his hips making you whimper. You tug his head to you, kissing him fiercely and swallowing his groans as he stills and you bask in the sensation of his cock pulsing inside of you.

Your labored breaths mingle as you stay wrapped up together, sweat drenched foreheads pressed against each other as you both collect yourself. Matt’s hand, the one that that had been gripping your thigh, lifts to brush your hair away from your forehead as his eyes appraise you. You can’t stop the way your eyes close as he leans in, kissing you once again, his tongue dipping into your open mouth and you whine as you feel him slowly pull out of you.

He places a gentle chaste kiss against your lips before lifting himself off you, walking around the bed. Your eyes track his movements, watching as he stops at the nightstand, the top drawer still open. There is a flicker of some emotion that crosses his face before he pushes the drawer closed before disappearing into the ensuite bathroom. You hear the water running before he returns, a warm damp washcloth in one hand and a t-shirt in the other.

Matt gently presses the washcloth against your skin, starting at your forehead and temples before descending until he reached the apex of your thighs, brushing away the lingering wetness of your release from your skin. He throws the towel into the hamper and holds out his hand, which you take. You let him lift your torso off the sheets as he hands you the t-shirt. He holds you steady while you slip the soft cotton over your head, the worn Maple Leaf emblem resting on your upper chest almost completely faded.

You collapse back against the sheets as Matt pulls on a pair of boxers before climbing next to you. His arms wrap around your body as he settles behind you, pulling your back close to his chest. Your own fingers lift to absentmindedly play with his as reality crashes back over you.

You aren’t sure what to say, if there even is anything to be said. You don’t want to ruin the golden halo of peace that surrounds the two of you but you knew you couldn’t just leave it like this. There were still too many questions unanswered, still too much uncertainty.

“What are you thinking about?” you hear Matt’s husky voice whisper from behind you. You sigh, wiggling in his grasp. He loosens his hold enough for you to spin and face him, his blue eyes soft as they take in the sight of you in his bed.

“A lot of things,” you answer, the response vague enough to let him decide whether to press on or to leave it at that. He decides to do the former.

“Like what?”

Your eyes lift to think, picturing the mess of thoughts in your head as you attempt to untangle each. The loose threads seem innumerable, too many to choose which was the most important to tug and which could be saved for a later moment. So, you just latch onto the first image that appears in your mind.

“Could I ask you a question?” you say, eyes connecting back to him.

“Of course.”

“When I was in your nightstand earlier,” you begin, carefully observing even the tiniest reactions that tug at Matt’s expression. “I saw a stack of envelopes and it looked like they had my name on them. What are they?”

There is a myriad of emotions that dance across Matt’s face, each more fleeting than the last before his features settle to what looks to you to be apathy or resignation. You feel your heart panic as his body turns away from, fearing that you spoke the wrong words – said the wrong thing. But it quiets when you watch him pull open the nightstand drawer, his hand reaching in. Your eyes follow his movements as he pulls out the stack of envelopes before spinning back to you.

“They’re for you,” he says, holding them out towards you. You take them from his hands, the bundle held tight by a rubber band. Your fingers flip through each of them, finding your name written on every single one. Your eyes dart from the paper back to him and you swear you see his cheeks tinge a lightish pink.

“My therapist suggested that I write you letters.”

“Your therapist?”

“Yeah. I started seeing him shortly after you left,” he explains, his hand reaching behind to awkwardly scratch at the nape of his neck. “Realized that there was a lot I needed to work on.”

“Why didn’t you send them?”

“I didn’t know your new address,” he tells you, the candor in his voice strengthening as he continues. “And I was too proud to ask. Besides, I wasn’t sure if you even wanted to hear from me. Thought you might throw them away if I did send them.”

You don’t respond, neither confirming or denying his assumption because in that moment, you weren’t certain what you would’ve done if a letter from him had appeared in your mailbox.

“What’s in them?” you ask, choosing to revert to a safer statement.

“Things I wanted to say to you. Things I never said to you when you needed to hear them. Everything I wanted to tell you but never got the chance to.”

There is a silence as you take in his declaration, your curiosity piquing as your fingers trace the edges of the envelopes. There is a desire to read them but also a fear, unsure if the contents would contain blame or apologies or gaslighting or regret.

“You don’t have to read them now,” Matt speaks again, his voice drawing your attention back to him. “You don’t have to read them at all if you don’t want to. They’re yours to do whatever you please.”

Something inside you tells you that it’s dangerous; that it’s a bad idea to open them. To trace over the words and strong emotions that forced him to put pen to paper. To allow Matt Martin back into the heart that you’ve spent years repairing. But when you feel his hand trace down the side of your face, his fingers twirling a strand of your hair, you realize that that line had already been blurred beyond recognition.

You didn’t know what a bad idea was when Matt was around. You had already done so many things that you shouldn’t have with him. What was one more bad idea compared to the thousands you acted on before?

What was this bad idea in comparison to one that brought you to Matt Martin’s bed in the first place?

Your mind swirls with all the drastic changes you had experienced in such a short amount of time. How different the world felt right now versus a few hours ago. How different the man sitting next to you was from the man you left in a Long Island bar two years ago. You felt as if you lived twenty lifetimes since you woke up. The past, the present, and every possible future tangled together in your mind, an amalgamation of all that had happened and all that could happen.

But you didn’t want to think about that right now. All you wanted to do was sink into Matt Martin’s arms and hold him close.

So, that’s exactly what you did.

You gently turn away from Matt, reaching up to place the stack of envelopes on top of the neighboring nightstand. There was still uncertainty whether you would read them, but the action of keeping them meant that you would consider it. And when you face Matt again, it seems that – for him – that was enough. This time, it is you who reaches out to intertwine your hand with his, scooting closer to him. He follows your lead, his body sinking into the mattress until you are pressed together, side by side. Your head comes to rest on chest, your eyes closing, the sound of his strong heartbeat echoing in your ear.

Right before sleep overtakes you, you manage to whisper to him the truth that your heart sang out, the sentence that you realized you couldn’t deny even after months of trying to do just that.

“I missed you too.”

The last thing you register is a soft kiss pressed onto the crown of your head, and encompassed in Matt’s warm embrace, you let the feeling of peace wash over you.

… but it’s gonna be alright. I did my time…

a/n 2.0: I did decide to leave it a little open ended because i just liked the feeling of it better. but if you want to know how what i think happens after this, i will direct you to this mashup

tagging the babes who made writing this so rewarding: @texanstarslove @comphy-and-cozy @smileysvech @laurenairay @dissonannce @cowboybarzy @cellythefloshie @provokedgoalie @m00nlightdelights @tkachvkmatthew @cixrosie @alwaysclassyeagle @geospatialharmony

#nicole writes #matt martin fic #matt martin imagine #matt martin smut #new york islanders fic #new york islanders imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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jadebomani · 2 years

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Chapter three: panther goddess pt.2

-Shuri-

In Wakanda, when the five tribes fought for control of vibranium the first black panther and king Bashenga received a vision from Bast, which led him to the heart-shaped herb. It granted him the power to become the king and the first black panther.

There were many other legends and religions when it came to Bast. When a man‘s soul reaches the afterlife they're brought by Bast and Sekhmet to a mythical green valley where he can run freely and be in peace for all eternity.

She is also known as an ennead who alongside Thoth, Kokou, Mujaji, Ptah, and Nyami are the orishas(Yoruba/African deities). Bast inherited her father Ra’s life-giving solar heat making her a fertility goddess and Sekhmet inherited Ra’s fiery destructive fury.

In Egypt, the city of Bubastis(lower Eygpt) and Memphis(capital) worshipped bast and she was known as a goddess of pleasure, dancing, and music. Also the goddess of the home, domesticity, women’s secrets, cats, fertility, and childbirth. In her lore, she was associated with the eye of Ra(The all-seeing eye) which played a part in her birth. She was also known as the distant goddess(a female deity who leaves Ra and returns to bring transformation).

Bast name comes in many forms such as Bastet, bsst, Ubasti, Ubaste, etc. They were speculated to mean “She of the ointment jar” as she was associated with protection, protective ointments, perfume, and sweet smells(associated with Nefertum who was thought to be her son).

Her offerings consist of Cat statues and pictures, Sweet liquids like wine, honey, milk, perfume, in the form of salves, beer, and whiskey, catnip, fish, a sistrum to ward evil, red candles, moonstone, tiger’s eye, and mint.

The random information poured through my mind melded together in a mindless mumble I pity anyone who would read my thoughts and facts in this time-constricted moment. As I got out my items and looked them over in contemplation.

‘This has to work if I don’t get answers soon my mind might explode and I’d have gone completely crazy given everything.’

I stepped aside and looked at my work I created a space/altar to reach her and get my dreams clearer. With a bit of science, I constructed a strain specifically of the new herb to get a connection to the ancestral plane and pinpoint her location here goes.

===========

A few hours later

I looked at my handiwork I made a decent altar with a statue of bast egyptian avatar and one of wakanda’s depictions of her. I laid the forementioned foods and perfume before it and place some candles in a big circle around me.

“Alright let’s do this Bast…please see this” I sat down and uncorked the strain of the herb.

‘If this works I’ll finally be able shove it in the elders face that the girl who lacked tradition pulled off a meeting with our god scientifically with a dash of tradition point shuri.’ I thought in anticipation as I felt the effects immediately. I got into a meditative position and said the prayer.

“Panther goddess bastet hear me now I seek counsel”

I sat in dread please work please work. My vision soon started to blur and change a flickering of two realms my place in haiti and the ancestral plane.

“I am here now daughter of the golden tribe” I felt that warmth once again and a blinding light filled my sense my soul trajecting into the ancestral plane.

My vision finally cleared and I found myself in my lab in wakanda and instead of being dressed in white clothing I wore something akin to my track suit. Ehn what is this.

“Hello little panther” the voice said and my head snapped in the direction to see Her.

Dressed in an traditional egyptian garb she stood poised in welcome purple red eyes gleaming. Bast.

I could have fainted, my mind racing in probabilities of how it just couldn’t be. She was not real her appearance a ruse, illusion but there she was The panther Goddess Bast.

‘What should I say Hello, my goddess, took you long enough’. I contemplated the last one mother’s and the whole of wakanda’s voices echo in my mind in a reprimand of Shuri.

If Bast didn’t smite me for the slight disrespect mother would have clawed her way out of wherever she was with our family in the royal wing of our afterlife to do it herself.

“Why my lab? Last time we met we were in your…home?” I opted to say instead.

“I wanted you to be comfortable in a setting your used to for this. It’s nice to meet my new panther and ward”. Wait, ward.

“As part of the mantle a part of my soul shadows you as my duty”

#bastet #black panther #talokanil #wakanda forever #black panther wakanda forever #bast black panther #black panther fanfiction #namor x shuri #princess shuri #attuma x okoye #riri x namora

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manawari · 1 year

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Revenge of the Death Hunter | Solo-Leveling Regression AU

@julyarya (lmk if you wanna be tagged for the next one)

The statues inched closer, and closer. . . The remaining hunters stared wide-eyed. But then, some of them stopped moving. Realization kicked in and Jin-woo glanced at Ju-hee.

"Don't close your eyes, Ju-hee!" He told her. "They'll come closer if you stop looking at them."

Ju-hee whimpered. "I— I wanna get out of here, Jin-woo. . . "

"We will get out of here. Just trust me." Jin-woo reassured her.

A scream pierced out. A woman sprinted out of the circle and dashed past the halted statues, ignoring the calls the others shouted at her for leaving. One of the flames in the altar fizzled. And to their surprise, she had managed to go past the door without ending up in the same fate as the first hunter who died in the temple.

"What the. . . ?"

"Sung! How is that even possible?!"

"She made it out alive!"

Not even Jin-woo was able to answer their questions. He expected her to be dead because of that action. . . But she did not. Besides the flames in the altar, some of the blue flames had gone out as well. The first commandment said worship and the second said praise, and the answers weren't anything like the riddles of the sphinx, and even the doors were a trap.

The doors opened as did the red flames, but they moved when one of the flames disappear, thus leading to a conclusion that the doors would close once again — and probably forever — if all flames had died.

"I— I'm sorry." Spoke yet another a trembling voice of a hunter next to him. "I don't think I can take this anymore. . . "

Before Jin-woo could respond, he crashed to the ground while the man who was supposedly holding him rushed out as well. The space between the doors decreased once more.

Damn it! Jin-woo seethed. "Don't move! We can't have any more people leave! We will all die if a blind spot is created!"

"Sung, you need to explain to us what is going on!" Chi-yul exclaimed.

"Just don't stop looking at the statues and stay still until all of the blue flames go out!" Jin-woo said. "The flames act as a timer and everyone will make it out if all of the blue flames are gone!"

"Look, Sung, if what you're telling us are true, but realistically, there's still a chance that the doors might shut once the timer stops, no?" Sangshik chimed in. He sighed. "I looked down on you, but you were able to solve all riddles when none of us could not. I'm alive because of you, so thanks." The sword in his hand fell to the ground. "But. . . I don't want to die yet. I have a family."

Jin-woo frowned. He understood the old man's sentiments. He hadn't even met his sister in this life.

" . . . I can't do this anymore."

He snapped out. "Mr. Kim!"

Sangshik ran out. Another flame died.

His blood boiled in contempt. Thanks?! You running away will get us all killed! Jin-woo wanted to yell, but he knew there was no use. The statues got closer once again. And there were only three of them left in the altar.

This whole thing was ridiculous. Absurd. Full of nonsense. . . Jin-woo wished he could take a break or wake up from this hectic nightmare. He wanted to get a taste of that soothing daylight in his room, the television in the living room where Jin-ah was watching, the bickering interactions between Yoon-ho and Jong-in, Tae-gyu's terrible jokes in the gymnasium, and the sensation of Hae-in's arms around his frame.

"You guys should leave." Chi-yul said. "The doors won't shut if one of us stays behind, right? You two have a few more years to live than I do, so you should be the ones to get out."

"Mr. Song!" Jin-woo instantly yelled.

"Ju-hee, give Sung a hand."

"O— Okay." Suddenly, Ju-hee trembled to the ground. "What's wrong with me— my legs!" She cried out. "I couldn't move my legs!"

"Are you low of mana?" Chi-yul looked at her. "Looks like you've used too much when you were healing Sung. . . "

Jin-woo pressed his lips and let out a grunt, opening his mouth to speak in a weak voice. "Mr. Song. . . Take Ju-hee with you. Leave this place."

"What?! I said I'm the one who is going to stay behind!"

"Then who's going to carry Ju-hee? We don't have much time! Go!"

Please. . . He implored as tears began to taint his eyes. I came back to life just so I could protect the ones I care about.

"No! Let me stay behind instead, Jin-woo. . . " Ju-hee looked at him with teary eyes.

"I told you I would spend a meal with you, didn't I?" Jin-woo handed her his essence stone. "Use this. If. . . I get out, I'll get the change first thing."

She was in this mess because of him. . . Ju-hee still had a long way to go in her life. And meet new people.

Ju-hee sniffled. "How can you joke around at a time like—" *whack!*

"I'm sorry, but I don't really think we have any more time to spare." Chi-yul slung Ju-hee's unconscious body over his shoulder.

Jin-woo cracked a smile. "Thank you."

"Alright. . . " Chi-yul swallowed and left the altar.

A heavy feeling tugged on his chest. Like a familiar wave he deeply hated.

He was alone. He was going to die for the second time.

One of the two statues whipped its weapon and thrusted into his body. Blood flushed out of his mouth. The statue raised its spear, lifting him in the process, and tossed him in the air, as well as tearing his body up to his shoulder.

His fragile body crashed onto a surface. Jin-woo could no longer let out a scream. Blood was endlessly flowing from his body like a stream. Agony came into a blur.

No. . . Blood disguised as tears streaked out of his eyes. I still haven't gotten to meet Jin-ah, my mother. . . Hae-in.

Their faces, bright and full of love, dwindled into his vision. Them being in his arms felt like he was holding the world. Perhaps. . . If he had just accepted death, he would've been with them, all of them, in the afterlife. Life was meaningless. Death was the true destination.

. . .

*ding!*

Something appeared in front of him. A window. . . Like in the games.

[ YOU HAVE MET ALL REQUIREMENTS TO COMPLETE THE SECRET QUEST: "COURAGE OF THE WEAK" ]

What?

[ YOU HAVE MET ALL REQUIREMENTS TO COMPLETE THE SECRET QUEST: "COURAGE OF THE WEAK" ]

Where is that voice coming from?

[ YOU NOW QUALIFY TO BECOME A PLAYER. DO YOU ACCEPT? ]

I'm literally about to die. . .

[ YOU DON'T HAVE MUCH TIME. IF YOU DECLINE, YOUR HEART WILL STOP BEATING IN 0.02 SECONDS. DO YOU ACCEPT? ]

Is this a second chance? No, a third chance? Jin-woo realized. Well. . . They do say that third's time the charm.

He had to put some faith on this. At least for one last time.

[ DO YOU ACCEPT? ]

. . . Accept.

[ CONGRATULATIONS! YOU HAVE NOW BECOME A PLAYER. ]

A blinding flash erupted underneath of his body. It grew and stretched across the entire temple.

Jin-woo jolted up. His heart racing while his neck glistened with sweat. He clutched onto his chest and stared up, only to see a broad daylight from the window.

Am I in a hospital?

"Have you regained consciousness?"

Wait. . . He knew that voice. It's—

"I apologize if we startled you." Woo Jin-chul handed him a card. Clad in a suit, brown hair that had a small streak dangling on his forehead, and that stern demeanor of his. . . It was truly him. "We are the surveillance team of the Hunters' Association."

"Of course." Jin-woo failed to hold back a remark. The corner of his mouth curved into a grin as he stared at the black card.

Jin-chul's eyebrow twitched. "You are quite snarky for someone who had been asleep for three days."

"I had been asleep for three days?!" Jin-woo's jaw fell. He shook his head. "Then, what happened to Mr. Song and Lee Ju-hee?"

"Mr. Song had lost an arm, so he might choose to retire," replied Jin-chul. "And as for Ms. Lee Ju-hee, she seems to have been heavily traumatized, so she is currently receiving therapy. We're not sure if they will continue to work as hunters."

At least they won't have to go through the same way again. Jin-woo thought.

A man next to Jin-chul spoke. "Also, Mr. Kim Sangshik and the other hunters are—"

"It's okay." Jin-woo dismissed him. "I've heard enough."

"After receiving a report from the survivors, we sent the White Tiger Guild and our surveillance agents, but by the time they got there. . . Everyone was gone." Jin-chul explained. "You were the only one found in the dungeon. And the statue of God, as well as other statues, were nowhere to be found."

"That's impossible!" Jin-woo exclaimed.

"We're in disbelief as well." Jin-chul nodded. "We could've considered other possibilities if we'd found the slightest discrepancy in the survivors' accounts. . . Or if we hadn't discovered body parts of the deceased hunters at the scene." Then, he continued. "This is just our guess, but we think you may have undergone a second awakening."

A second awakening? Jin-woo widened his eyes. In rare cases, some hunters could also reawaken, such as a C-Rank could advance to A-Rank or a B-Rank to an S-Rank.

He glanced down on his hands. . . Could he have reawakened into S-Rank?

Jin-chul placed an object on the table. "This is a mana meter. All you have to do is place your hand on top of this essence stone right here."

He did what he was told. A huge part of him was hoping he had advanced.

A few moments later, the two men's expressions changed. They exchanged a look at each other and glanced at the beeping device. Jin-woo wondered what could be going on. . . Was there something wrong? Had his expectations failed him again?

"I think we've taken too much of your time." The agent said. "We wish you best recovery, Mr. Sung Jin-woo."

What the— Jin-woo blinked as the door was shut. I got excited for nothing!

He looked up and noticed there was still a window. It was either they hadn't noticed it or they could not see it at all.

[ YOU HAVE UNREAD MESSAGES. ]

His leg was cut off, but it was back to normal, then he got stabbed in the chest and was likely torn apart. And there was no wound. He looked at the window and began to glaze his finger around it, wondering if it must be a touch-screen.

"Jin-woo, you just woke up— what are you doing?" A new voice entered the room. "Don't tell me you hurt your head too."

Jin-woo looked up and. . . It was Jin-ah.

"Jin-ah!" He said with a beaming smile. Finally, he had met his sister.

"Don't you 'Jin-ah' me. I WAS WORRIED SICK!" His little sister raged. "Why are you always getting hurt all the time?! If you get hurt one more time, I'll drop out and find a job and make you quit the hunter business!"

"Jin-ah." Jin-woo ignored her rambles. "Can you see this?"

"See what?"

"Nevermind." Jin-woo shook his head. "When you have an unread message in a game, what do you have to do to view the message?"

"Did you actually hurt your head?" Jin-ah stared deadpanned at him. "You have to open the message box first."

"I have to open the message box?"

"Yeah— what's with this question all of the sudden? We always play at the internet cafe!"

Well, in his first life, Jin-woo hardly had time to enjoy leisure activities such as gaming. Up until he had forgotten certain tasks when it came to it.

"Well, if that is all, I'm off." Jin-ah said and walked to the door.

"Jin-ah."

"What is it?"

Jin-woo smiled at her. "I missed you."

Jin-ah stared at him strangely. After blinking a few times, she said. "You need some more medicine, brother."

*click*

Jin-woo laid back on his bed and faced the window. He clicked the box icon and the screen morphed into a new content.

[ CONGRATULATIONS! YOU HAVE NOW BECOME A PLAYER. ] (UNREAD)

[ DAILY QUEST: TRAIN TO BECOME A FORMIDABLE COMBATANT. ] (UNREAD)

It was surreal. It was indeed like he had gotten into a game. . . Could this be his true key? Sure enough, it was the same thing that had saved his life from completely perishing from that dungeon.

He was now a Player.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

prologue

< prev | next >

#revenge of the death hunter #solo leveling #sung jin woo

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lilliththegreat · 1 year

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I watched art projects for kids on YouTube.

For keeping Art classes in my house or prepare an album with that to show the things one can learn through me.

Leaving that, I found an art teacher who is so crazy yet she knows how to manage her art station in her school.

She made embroidery, sewing, and weaving all easy for kids I mean she simplified it as per their age.

She must have got that education from a teacher training or art school.

I dont know.

I thought these are big and taught the special girl in the hard way.

That's what school here does, like no other way you read and learn what books says.

Same patterns.

She did a paper weaving that is for kids and for them it is new and big but for me I would have skipped by just looking at it.

Now that I need to know a way to teach another one or create some art projects to teach, this seems acceptable.

Then I thought," what this is it?"

Hmm...nice.

You know kids need to learn and when they are new to something it should be simple.

One thing she repeatedly said is to make mess and that's how you can become an artist.

For me this is new.

I do things that no one can reject or deny but only can appreciate.

I mean I will push myself harder to get a perfect result.

I can't expect that from anyone I teach.

N used to say this to me, " working alone fits me, when I have to make someone else do something it is exhausting, not my thing ".

Not his exact words tho.

While preparing for the dedication ritual he wrote me everything in detail, like how to set an altar 😘 placing each element on it's right direction.

If that is him he would have written prepare yourself for the ritual..😀.

He knows to simplify many tough rituals according to the present-day availability.

I mean I can see it as one weaves the thread from a raw fiber,it's hard work but worth it.

N is sure a good mentor 🥰.

These both knows and have dealt with the world and tried many things then must have formed these simplified patterns in their teaching .

Law too is a simple guy.

Every time I talk about bigger things he wouldn't go to analyze but will give a simple answer.

The world is like that.

I wish to write my deep thoughts in a separate note.

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suchablackpear1-blog · 2 years

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Benefit of Experiencing His Glory

I was completely disheartened. Unsure what my next would be when I found my ex-husband with his new wife in our master bedroom. My lack of knowledge of who God truly was kept me in a posture of being on my face and knees crying out the skies of heaven searching for my earthly Dad to send me a sign, anything to help me get a hold of my uncontrolled emotions causing me to go back into the homeland e with the hope I need to make a decision. As I reversed out of the driveway, my heart well it never returns to a place where I'm no longer wanted, nor needed. Face filled with simultaneous tears in frustration driving in circles, in pain, heartbroken and confused. I could have gone to jail and ended everything just to remove the pain my heart felt, I screamed at the very tippy top of my lungs, help! After hours of crying and driving in circles, it became very hard to see pulled over into bus access on a road on the side of the home as I continued to say, Daddy, “why is this happening”. Asking Daddy for help, and why did my ex-husband decide to do all of these hurtful things to me. Gently placing my forehead on the stirring wheel of my truck I was giving up and thought if I just killed myself everything would go away. Immediately I heard the audio voice of the Lord, “if you call on me I will answer”. The voice was strong and if I'm honestly scared me. Even so much I pooped my head up and bucked my eyes open remained very still as I examined my surrounding using my peripheral vision. The sun was shining outside and no one was in sight, not even a sound made a sharp right turn to look over my shoulder to determine if any passengers entered by vehicle, as I was stiractilly crying. Surely someone was in my truck speaking to me. Yet, I saw no one. Turning back around slightly, as I'm convinced a man was possibly in my third row near the truck I wasn't turning my back fully toward the front. Tears have completely dried up and I'm straggling and strategizing what my next move will be to escape. Immediately I exit the vehicle opening all four of the doors and the back to find no one. My earthly mind couldn't understand in all I desired was to see the Lord, but He simply wanted to hear from me. Often we reply to the voice of those who conceive us to encourage us rather they're among the living or removed from earth but once you've gained the grasp of His love and understanding of who created us we then understand that Father God knew us in our mother's womb (Isiah 49:1-2) established us on earth. Hearing the Lord's voice gave me the comfort to know I wasn't alone, He is with me on my journey to find me. I had gotten lost in the standards the world placed on what a family, marriage, and a black should look like, I had no clue of my identity in Christ.

At sixteen I remember going to the congregation and raising my hand to submit my life over to Christ they gave me a card and told me to meet with them after the altar call I know I wanted to love Christ but they gave me a membership number, prayer card, and more stuff. Yes, stuff I didn't understand anything the elders of the congregation were truly conveying to us. As I and two of my friends who followed me to the altar listened to these people began to pray over us, my only thought was I probably should call my mom for her consent those people were serious and I had a weird feeling I was committing to their church without permission but it was too late. My friends and I looked at each other under our breathers in laughter thinking utmost ourselves what did we just do? We smiled and bowed our heads for prayer. We continued with our lives we never went back to church together but I would go periodically as it was a requirement for the youth organizations I joined. Moreover, we still partied and hung out often I remember one night my friends wanted to go to a kickback, and I was committed to no longer attending to house parties or kickbacks after my friend was killed during a drive-by shooting. So, we headed to the Famous Las Vegas Strip to a hotel called Silver Sevens we entered the parking lot and my friend calls this guy and he tells us to pull around back and park and he’ll come out to get us. My sixteen old mind thought that was very sweet and a great gentleman to exaquart us in but umitmelity he was up to NO GOOD! This older gentle comes out and shows us to the room, it wasn't odd that he was the only male and 5-8 other men I figured we were early to the party but shortly my friends reveal we are changing and then headed to the actual party with him. I couldn't understand two things 1. Why my friends were changing clothes and 2. Why did we need to ride in his car when I had my own? I trusted my friends so off we went into his old-school brown Cadillac with dark-tinted windows........

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clanoffelidae · 2 years

Text

Having non-binary dysphoria is fucking weird bc it’s like

Brain: don’t like this body

Me: okay do you want a male one?

Brain: that’s even worse

Me: okay so what do you want???

Brain: not this one

#non binary #gender dysphoria #its really not that surprising that some of my friend groups have running jokes that im an otherworldly entity in a human body lol #if i had a nickel for every friend group that decided i was some sort of ancient deity in human form id have two nickels #which isnt a lot but its weird that it happened twice #‘well did you start the joke???’ I Did Not #they came to these conclusions on their own #both of them are equally shitposty which is a mood tho #first one was bc i was obsessed with oranges in high school #and a group of friend watched me maul like 7-8 of them at lunch #and i became the god of oranges #then i had an orange on me one day when a friend had a test in history she was nervous about #id taken it earlier that day and felt fine so i gave her the orange and told her to set it on her desk #to create an altar to me and i would give her the answers (made her laugh <3)#she came back later saying she did that and then suddenly remembered everything #make of that what you will #my second god assignment is biblically accurate furby and also possibly a god of peace #it’s complicated #the lore keeps developing #nonbinary

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matryosika · 3 years

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shoot me, chapter VII

pairing — changbin x reader

rating — 18+

genre of the overall series — smut, angst, fluff if you squint

prologue chapter I chapter II chapter III chapter IV chapter V chapter VI

word count for this chapter — 5.3 k

warnings — angst, softdom!changbin, female masturbation, dirty talk/suggestive dialogues, piv, unprotected sex, very descriptive but fluffy smut.

note — here it is, finally! this has been probably my favorite chapter so far and i completely loved the smut scene for this (because i am a hopeless romantic). i really hope you enjoy it, and please leave an ask in case you want to leave me a positive message! they really do motivate me a lot to keep on writing.

also, i have a ko-fi, in case you are interested in tipping my writing! it is not obligated, of course, but i would treasure every tip forever!

taglist: @cozyblues @ahgasearmyfan @binnie-m00n @minaamhh @pinkishwen @spilledtee

as soon as the two of you stepped into changbin's apartment the whole energy that had been building up since the wedding event started to unleash itself. just like two teenagers experimenting together for the first time, changbin's hands dragged themselves along the sides of your body hungrily.

"this looks so good on you" changbin panted, the touch of his hands leaving a burning sensation on your skin even though it was still covered with the fabric of the dress.

"mhm?" you hummed, hooking your arms on the back of his neck and feeling how his longing gaze fixed on your lips. "mhm" he replied in the same tone you did, "all of the dresses look good on you, but this one..." changbin sighed with accelerated breath as he took a step back to admire your whole body "you look like a goddess".

a small smile appeared on your face as you felt changbin's embrace, his lips crashing into yours again on a sloppy but passional kiss "worship me then" you jokingly gasped in between kisses.

changbin's face froze a few centimeters away from yours while a smirk appeared in the corners of his lips "i was already planning on doing so".

one of his hands left the edge of your waist and traveled all the way to one of the pockets on his pants, pulling out a red little box. "what is that?" you asked in confusion, your heart skipping a beat or two while your face sank in the crook of his neck, kissing and softly biting his skin.

"my father helped arthur in choosing the wedding rings" changbin explained, making your whole body take a step back from him "so?" you replied.

"i saw something that reminded me of you" he said, offering you the tiny box.

with heavy breathing you accepted the gift, a little bit overwhelmed. a trail of thoughts were unraveling inside your mind: why did he buy something to me? and why is he giving it now in the middle of this? he took it to the event hall since he had it in his pocket, but what could it possibly be?

your fingers managed to remove the adhesive on each sides of the top, almost chuckling at the awkard silence that was formed with only the sounds of panting and heavy breathings filling the whole room.

it was a necklace.

an expensive one, if you dared to say.

"what is this for?" you inquired, holding the fine gold chain that had a medal with the face of an unknown person engraved in it "you saw a charm of a random man and thought of me?" you mocked him.

his fingers danced around the chain you were holding as he took it away from you, his body shortening the distance that was created a few seconds ago "i didn't say the necklace represented you" he mumbled as he hooked the necklace on your neck "think about what it really means".

your confused mind went blank as soon as you felt his lips peppering kisses on top of the chain and in your neck, softly biting and caressing the skin on your chest as he played with the charm. unconciously, your head fell slightly back to give him more access. "i don't get it" you moaned, feeling how his hands danced around your back while they slowly unzipped the dress.

"you will" he replied, his lips tracing your bare skin as you were undressing for him "does that feel good?"

"mhm" you chanted, feeling how the kisses he was leaving along your abdomen and thighs only made you wetter. your hands traveled to his hair, caressing it as your legs threatened to stop working at any second "funny how this is not the first time seeing you kneel in front of me" you joked, letting out a sigh when you felt the tip of his digits tracing the skin of your legs.

"i would be anytime on my knees for you, all you have to do is ask" changbin whispered.

the dress finally landed on your ankles and you stepped out of it to fully remove it, slightly smirking at the wise decision of wearing a fancy set of lingerie for the ocassion because, deep in your mind, you knew that this day was going to end up exactly like this: with you and changbin together.

changbin licked his lips while he admired your body from head to toes, his gaze fixing immediatly in yours. that gaze was exactly the one he had given you the first night you met him, and the first night you slept together. the gaze that, even though he had seen your naked body countless of times, was always present.

you couldn't help but squeeze your thighs together at the feeling of your cheeks burning in embarrassment "are you going to stay on your knees watching me all night?" you inquired, still working hard to keep the eye-contact even though your heart was probably going at a million miles per hour. the funniest part was that, even if you two had fucked a 100 times now, this time felt completely different. more concious, if you dared to say.

"this is my way of worshipping you" he said, his lips slightly parted as his hungrily gaze toured every inch of your skin "don't you like being admired?"

"i would prefer other ways of worshipping" you shyly teased in an attempt to relax yourself from the nerve-wrecking emotions you were starting to feel "let's say, a million dollars"

"if i could, i would buy you the entire world just for you to destroy it" he mumbled while caressing your legs and, with that statement, your heart started to feel as if it was sinking in your insides. the man who once represented everything you hated was kneeling in front of you and willing to act as you pleased, yet, that didn't meant anything. that didn't make you feel powerful.

what made you feel powerful was him. owning you.

a couple of seconds in silence passed by as you watched him in awe. he was sure of what he was doing because you couldn't catch a glimpse of hesitation in his eyes. if anything, his gaze was nothing but honest.

his lips lost no time in making contact with the skin of your legs again, leaving a trace of kisses in the opposite direction as before. "if i destroyed the whole world, you would be included there" you sighed, repressing a whine once you felt his teeth and lips softly marking the skin on your hips. "do it" he panted as his hands touched the soft lace beige panties you were wearing, his lips now focusing specially on the exposed skin of your breasts leaving kisses on your chest "i would bear it for you"

his lips crashed into yours once again, this time slower. his taste was intoxicating and, no matter how many times you kissed, you just couldn't get enough of it. his tongue grazed slightly against yours as he parted his lips more to softly bit on your lower lip. "can we take this somewhere else?" you asked in despair, mostly worried about the fact that your legs could give up any second now.

changbin made you feel things you hadn't experience before and, even though it frightened you to a certain extend, it made you curious. "you have been expecting this all night, haven't you?" he smirked against your lips.

"have you?" you replied, tilting your head. if there's one thing that you loved to do was to tease him by answering his questions with more questions. however, changbin couldn't stand that.

"yeah, i did" he muttered, his fingers playing with the strands of hair that fell all the way down the sides of your face "you have no idea all the things that crossed through my mind the moment i saw you standing next to the altar in the church"

you pushed his body slightly "you have such a perverted, unholy mind. can't even hold back in such a sacred place" you joked, feeling changbin's gaze dragging itself all over the features on your face.

"y/n, you are the only holy thing i would get on my knees for".

he had such a way with words, but the ones he was particularly chosing tonight made your heart feel a sincere warmth that you hadn't experience before.

and it was making you nervous.

"just take me before i regret this" you mumbled, your arms once again hooking behind changbin's neck. his body descended slightly and soon you felt his strong hands caressing the back of your thighs, inviting you to climb into his his body "do you regret any of this?" he asked.

your body was pressed against his as he carried you, your legs crossed and resting in his lower back. the way his arms wrapped around your fragile body reminded you how this was actually the first time you felt small.

you had always been the big girl. the big girl who had to deal with her abusive household, the big girl who had to defend her mother from her emotionally unstable father, the big girl who watched her mother go from man to man until she decided to settle, the big girl who was not allowed to ask for anything because life hadn't given her enough.

but as you smelled his scent and felt the warm of his built arms around your waist, the world started to feel big for a used soul like yours. you smiled with half-lidded eyes, your breath getting caught up in your throat.

"no" you whispered, your breathing mixing up with this.

"no?" he repeated, his hands playing with your back "that's it? you are not going to answer my question with another question?"

"no" you replied, shaking your head from side to side. one of his hands left your back to hold one side of your face, stroking slightly the soft skin of your cheeks.

your lips traveled once again to the crook of his neck once he started to walk with you to his room. with each step, your core rubbed against his clothed abdomen and you couldn't help but to let out small whimpers every time your bodies grazed together "so i assume you have been expecting this all night" he teased, his bulge growing every time he heard those sweet sounds escaping your lips.

you didn't reply but, instead, started to bite softly the skin of his neck as you felt his figure descending into the bed. his hands softly traveled to your back, unclenching the top part of your underwear as his digits traced the lace beige fabric on top of it "you wore this for me, right?" he inquired.

you gave him a soft smile "you will never know, changbin". as soon as you finished that sentence, you let out a small gasp when you felt his cold finger rings caressing your nipples as they got hard under his touch.

"i have always loved how sensitive you are" he muttered, pinching and stroking them ever so slightly. compared to other times, you could clearly see that changbin was holding back a lot of the instincts that usually arise from him during sex and, as much as you loved him being rough with you, you were curious as to what you could expect from him tonight.

he licked his lips before making contact with your hardened buds, earning a quiet moan from you as your head fell slightly back "does that feel good, y/n?"

you swallowed and nodded "mhm". the mixture between the feeling of his lips against your body and the sound of his voice pronunciating your name was something that you were definetly going to engrave in your mind forever "look at all the mess you are making in my lap" he muttered, your gaze falling on his black formal pants.

before you could apologize, his fingers traced your slit over your panties. he held his fingers coated with your escence that were glistening due to the light that emanated from the window and, without parting his eyes from yours, he licked your arousal off his digits. as you witnessed the scene, a spark of electricity traveled around your body and into your core.

"you always taste good" he whispered "you have a tight grip on me, do you know that?"

you tilted your head and smirked "is that a secret?" you inquired.

"i wish it wasn't" changbin replied as you felt a pinch in your heart. even though what happened in private with him was something good, it wasn't supposed to be happening at all and both of you knew it.

before any more words could be spilled between the two of you, you leaned in for another kiss. your hands toured his body desperately, helping him get rid of the clothes that were now the biggest obstacle between both of your bodies.

his chest and back were already decorated with a light layer of sweat and that only fed up the friction in between your bodies. the way your nipples rubbed against his chest every time you leaned in for a kiss had you on edge and moving your hips against his bulge, trying to let him know that you couldn't keep up with the foreplay anymore. "you can't wait?" you shook your head, the sound of your accelerated brething revealing what you couldn't put into words.

"turn around" he ordered, lifting up your legs from his lap as he was sitting at the edge of the bed. you got up from your previous seat and caught a glimpse of a big mirror that was strategically placed in front of you.

"you re-decorated your room?" you teased. last week you had been there but that mirror wasn't around.

"i have a lot of ideas, actually" he answered, his head rolled slightly back to see your figure standing in front of him. soon, you felt [and saw through the mirror] both of his hands bringing your body closer to his lap again, only this time you were facing the mirror instead of him. taking advantage of the position you were now in, he kissed the skin on your back as he managed to get you out of the last piece of clothing you were wearing.

"it isn't fair" you whined, looking at the mirror "i am naked and you still have your pants on"

changbin's eyes fixed on your reflection, admiring your body completely as if it was the first time he had seen it "you already made a mess on my lap, it's okay if you keep on doing it" he provoked.

his hands guided you to sit on him again, spreading your legs open in front of the mirror. you didn't really took the time to think this whole thing through but, as soon as you saw your core completely exposed and changbin's facial expressions as his hands toured your whole body, your cheeks turned completely bright red.

"what?" changbin asked, smiling every time you let out small gasps as his digits traced your slit, avoiding that place where you needed him the most "do you feel embarrassed?"

"i feel exposed" you answered back as you let out a faint laugh.

"look at yourself" he demanded against your skin, his eyes admiring your body as his digits made contact with your bundle of nerves that was pulsating with desire "look how beautiful you look for me".

even though your eyes wanted to shut close due to the pleasure and shame, you tried your best to appreciate your body under his hold "i can't believe you are completely mine" he groaned, his digits moving in circular motions against your clit making you moan.

"yours?" you asked in between sighs. changbin's gaze was darker than usual and that only made you clench harder against thin air. he smiled, again showing that cockiness you utterly hated.

without saying a word, he thrusted one of his digits inside you. you whined at the sensation, feeling again the coldness of his rings against your warm core "you want to know how i know that?" he inquired.

you moaned again when you felt the finger tips of his opposite hand brushing against your bud "look at me" he ordered, immediatly making you look for his dark gaze in the reflection of the mirror. after a few seconds, his face held a victorious smirk "your body sells you out every damn time, y/n". you licked your lips at the confusion, only to be interrupted by a loud moan once you felt the pace of his fingers inside you matching the one with his digits against your clit "the way you clench around my fingers only by looking at me betrays you"

"you are still this cocky, changbin?" you asked in between moans, your eyes fixed on the way changbin's figure took care of you.

"you are still lying, y/n?" he replied while leaving faint kisses against your shoulders. "you look so small underneath me, you know that?" all he got from an answer was a soft moan, but he still continued "look at how gorgeous your body looks when it's being touched by me"

your hands rested on your breasts as you twisted and pinched on your hardened nipples, the tension on your lower back increasing as well as the pleasure you were receiving. "you always take me so well, it makes me proud"

a small cry left your lips at his words, knowing that your whole body clenched around his finger tips harder than usual at the praise. he didn't say anything, but the smile that he had on his face revealed that he definetly felt it. "my y/n, there is not a part of you that i don't find pleasing"

his words, combined with his touch, were definetly sending you to cloud 9. by the way your whimpers were starting to sound and your hips desperately grinded against changbin's touch, he knew that you were close. "do you want to be good for me, huh?" he questioned, his eyes admiring the grimaces of pleasure you made.

"mhm" you moaned "please don't stop, changbin".

your head rested completely on his shoulder and, as much as changbin wanted you to look at yourself in the mirror, he noticed that the position was rather perfect to help you chase the orgasm that you dearly longed for. "even when you are like this" he whispered in your ear, the tingle of his hot breath against your skin making you squirm under his arms "too fucked out to even keep your eyes opened and too filthy to even be considered a saint, i think you are the most beautiful"

"changbin" you gasped loudly, your back arching your back as it withdrew from his chest, your juices coating completely his fingertips "that's my good girl" he grunted, feeling how your walls violently clenched around his digits "you are doing so well, y/n"

again, you clenched even harder at his words once you reached the highest point of your orgasm. your eyes were completely shut that you swore you could see a night sky filled with starts, the sensations of pleasure wrapping every single part of your body as the only thing you could think of was changbin.

"thank you" you whispered with broken words and teary eyes due to the overwhelming sensation you just had experience. even though you had cum countless of times with him, this one felt different.

"you took me well" changbin replied, peppering kisses in your cheek as your breathing stabilize itself. this was not his usual self, but you would be lying if you said that you didn't like it.

as soon as you reincorporated on his lap, you saw your reflection in the mirror and a smile appeared across your face. your messy hair, your rosy cheeks decorated with tears and your still trembling body that was being roughly held by changbin's arms was such a sight you would never forget.

"come here" he said, getting you up from his lap as he stood from the bed too. with swift movements, he unbuckled his belt and got rid of the remaining clothes in his body. you couldn't really help but to stare at him, his soft caramel skin and the way his veins stood out in his arms was something that had always drive you insane.

carefully, his hands guided you to rest your back on the soft mattress, feeling a sensation of comfort as soon as you smelled the bed-sheets that had their scent imprinted all over them. "what else are you going to do to praise me?" you joked.

he leaned in to start kissing your chest and breasts while your legs automatically hooking around his waist and resting on his lower back "see how your body reacts to me" he groaned, biting softly your skin without too much strength since pain was not something he wanted to inflict on you today.

with eagerness, you squeezed your legs again around him, his cock making casual contact against your wet core "do you want me?" he asked.

you looked at him with lustful eyes as he rested his body on his forearms, and you couldn't help but smile. "i am here, that should tell you everything you need to know"

changbin's gaze fixed on the necklace he had given you a few minutes before and started peppering kisses against your skin, but he didn't reply anything to that.

one of his hands guided his cock inside you, letting out a groan once he felt your tight warm walls welcoming him "you always makes me feel so good" he panted, melting at the sweet sound of your moans.

his pace was slow and more delicate than usual, but you couldn't deny that you loved it. the way his hips softly slammed into yours while his pubis brushed against your clit with every thrust had you seeing stars "fuck changbin" you cried.

"you are doing good, y/n" he reassured, both of his hands looking out for yours as he placed them on either sides of your head "your pretty body can take my cock so well"

once again, you clenched at his words "you like that, don't you?" he whispered.

"mhm" you hummed "your voice..." a small whimper left your lips when you felt his pace increasing, but the softness of each thrust was still there "i love it when you talk to me like that"

"yeah?" he asked, almost in a chanting manner "do you like it when i tell you how good your body reacts to me, y/n?"

you squeezed your legs together once again, forcing changbin deeper into your tight cunt "fuck, yes".

the way he was holding your hands as he pounded you was something you found oddly intimate, but you liked it. this felt more than a casual session of sex, but you couldn't quite understand what was the thing that made it different tonight.

"changbin" you whimpered.

"yeah, baby?"

"no one has ever made this feel good before" you admitted, melting at his gaze. "god, you feel so good inside me"

"i know, princess" he replied with a heavy groan, leaning further to place a kiss on your forehead "no one can make you feel like i do".

both of your bodies were tired, but the passion and intimacy that was built inside that room was something that you two had never experience before. the way his breathing was getting caught up in his throat and the way your whines and moans were starting to sound louder than before only indicated that the both of you were ready to let go.

and all of the sudden, an unconcious sentence left your lips in the middle of the intimacy

"don't leave me".

changbin's body slightly tensed up at your words and you cursed yourself mentally for saying such a thing out loud. however, his gaze transmitted you some sort of comfort "i'm here, i'm not going anywhere".

his lips approached yours in a kiss, repressing every single pant or moan that you two could possibly emit. the pace on his hips increased too, desperate to make you feel completely good "i am so close changbin"

he let go of one of your hands as his digits found your bundle of nerves again, rubbing it just like before and adjusting the pace of each thrust to make sure you were getting nothing but pleasure. your back arched once again, your chest rising to meet his body.

"you are so precious" he moaned "i can never forget the image of you cuming all over my cock"

again, the knot unraveled at his words. both of your arms hooked around his shoulders and back as you held his body tightly, your finger nails sinking into his skin as he cursed under his breath due to the pain. "please cum inside me" you pleaded in a broken whisper "i need you to fill me up"

those words were the push he needed to let go as well, painting your inner walls white as he held your trembling body tightly "y/n" he moaned, feeling how your hips grinded involuntarily against him in an attempt to get him deeper "you are such a goddess".

a smile appeared into your face as your eyes found his again. "i know, you told me that before"

"i will never get tired of telling you"

after some time and few attempts to catch his breath, changbin got up from his bed and looked for a towel to clean the mess he had made in you. while he did that, you laid down thinking about everything that had happen: everything he said, everything you did, the necklace and the eerie sensations you felt throughout the night.

but since you had promised yourself to let go for the night, you tried to push all those feelings away from your own good.

"do you want to take a bath?" he asked as he dragged the towel along your inner thighs.

"i want to sleep" you admitted.

"with me?" he teased "are you really planning on giving me the honor?"

"don't make me regret it, fuck"

and just with those words, he got into his own bed with you. the warmth of his body was familiar to you, but you had never felt it like this before. your body curled up against his while your face rested on his chest, noticing how it went up and down every once in a while.

"achilles" he mumbled out of nowhere.

"huh?" you asked in confusion, your head separating from his chest so you could look at his eyes.

"think about it"

but you didn't want to think about anything. you just wanted to sleep next to him, feel his body leaning against yours while you felt his embrace throughout the night.

"maybe later" you replied, yawning. your head once again fell into his chest and changbin couldn't help but smile.

even though he was a succesful man at such a young age, this was the very first time he ever felt lucky and fortunate. and even though you slept safe and sound next to him, he spent the whole night thinking about the words that left your lips.

please don't leave me.

the next morning, changbin dropped you at arthur's house with the promise of taking you out for dinner later that day. even when you refused twice, changbin ended up convincing you. you wanted to go, but the rational part of your brain kept trying to contradict you.

you stepped into the house wearing the same clothes as yesterday, only now you were wearing a new accessory gifted by no other than seo changbin. achilles, you thought as you closed the front door.

you were exhausted from last night and, at this point, all you wanted to do was to run upstairs and into your bed. as you walked through the hall, a small smile escaped from your lips by recalling the events of the previous night.

"y/n" a voice interrupted, making you turn around in your heels.

"you got married yesterday" you mumbled, looking at the figure of arthur standing outside of his studio-office-whatever the fuck that room was. "aren't you supposed to be at your honey moon by now?"

"care to explain this?" he inquired, completely ignoring you or what you said. as he held his cellphone in front of you, your body turned into ice and your knees felt extremely weak.

"what are you doing with that?" you asked, defensive. as he swiped through his gallery, things got worse and worse.

"better yet, what are you doing with him?" he replied "i can finally see what your mother taught you"

"this isn't about her so don't even dare to bring up her name" you snapped back "how did you get those pictures?"

"changbin, really?" he frowned his eyebrows, "i really thought he would be interested in... any other kind of woman"

"what i do or not do is none of your business" you muttered, looking directly at the series of pictures that captured the moment you and changbin left the event hall, kissing and fooling with each other.

"he is a smart man, y/n" arthur intervened "if he hasn't realized that you are no good for him by now, he will". tears started to prick into the corners of your eyes, but you would be damned if you let him see you in a vulnerable state "do you love him?" he asked with a tint of smugness in his words.

you didn't reply.

"even if you just appreciate him as a...." he looked at you and then at the cellphone, in dispair "friend, i would reccomend you to be the bigger person here and just stay away from him"

"this isn't your call to make, arthur" you groaned "stop trying to control everyone else's lives just because you couldn't control mine or hyejin's.

"i am not sure if you are aware, y/n" he said, walking around you and into the hall "but the wealth of changbin's family depends on me". you crossed your arms, still trying to think about anything that would stop you from crying in front of your father "do you really want him to throw all the effort he has made throughout his life just for a whim of yours?"

you bit your lower lip.

"i am going to be in europe for two weeks" he added as he signaled a bunch of suitcases that were by the door "i want you out of korea by then, since you only came here for the wedding". he approached you with careful steps as his rough fingers held the necklace changbin had given you the night before "i want you out of his life too, for good. he has a commitment with me and the company, and i don't want you intervening in that"

he looked at the charm and then at you as you stood there completely frozen "i truly hope you had enjoy your time here in korea" he added with a bright, cynical smile as he walked to the suitcases.

it wasn't until you heard the front door going off that you started sobbing uncontrollably in the living room floor.

you had ruined everything, and you had ruined it big time.

what started as a game to get back at your own father ended up being an emotional set up for you, and you were not sure how to fix it.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz angst #stray kids angst #changbin smut #changbin x reader #kpop smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshots #skz x reader #skz imagined #skz one shots

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phenomenal1500 · 3 years

Text

What If We Had The Choice? | Resident Evil Village

Summary: What would have happened if Ethan had sided with Heisenberg? Unfortunately, Capcom didn't give us the chance to make a choice, so for the enthusiasts.... this would have happened if we had had been given the choice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ethan stepped foot inside the dark, dusty factory with a bad premonition. He kept his gun in front of him at all costs as he carefully pushed the first rusty door he encountered open and when he noticed the coast was clear, he also made his way through the badly lit hallway that had appeared from behind the heavy door. He was so close in having his daughter back that he couldn't back down... not now. Another nasty hallway followed and finally, when he took a turn to his right, he spotted an huge curtain hanging ahead of him in a square room. It seemed to hide the wall and table behind it and Ethan struggled with the thought off shoving it to the right to peak behind it or to just leave it be. With his curiosity taking over he pulled the curtain from the beam to which it was attached to and small photos appeared.

Some of them were old pictures of the lords, scratched through with a red marker, while others were pictures of the incidents that had happened around the village since Ethan had arrived there. The pictures reflected in Ethan's eyes and one stood out to him. "Mia?"

"Truth hurts, don't it?" Ethan turned with a quick motion, spotting the man Ethan had met earlier who now stepped out of the shadows directly behind him. The dark and round glasses covered the man's eyes as well as his fedora hat that slightly slanted over his left eye and the long tattered coat fluttered behind him as he took a puff of his Cuban cigar. Ash fell from his cigar as thick white smoke floated around the man's almost completely covered face. "Let me guess." The forth and strongest Lord continued after puffing his cigar once more. "You're thinking take me out like the others, and then you get to go and safe Rose, right?"

"I'm healing my daughter." Ethan bit back.

"Look, y-...you've got this all wrong-..." Lord Heisenberg signed with his hands up in the air to strengthen his words, but he then was cut off by an horrible loud sound coming from under them. "Dammit, I'm talking here!" The man whined, pinching his noise before storming his way towards the hatch to pull it open with ease. "Shut your fucking hole!"

Ethan had no idea what to except or where this conversation was going, certainly not with someone different than the other mutated humans he had met. Alcina Dimitrescu had already some hatred towards men like him, perhaps even all men in general, and was conspiring with Miranda so of course she wanted him dead from the beginning. Donna Beneviento seemed more reasonable and neutral about the situation, but was still crazy as fuck and was also still under Miranda's control. Same goes for Salvatore Moreau, except for the fact he wasn't just following and conspiring with Miranda. He saw Mother Miranda as his real mother and he was so desperate to prove his worth to the other house lords and Mother Miranda that he unfortunately also wasn't able to negotiate with.

However, Lord Heisenberg was someone different. He came across Ethan as more controlled than the other Lords despite being a bit of a direct man. "Sorry about that." The man apologised as he straightened his back. Ethan, still confused whether he had to have patient and listen to the man or take action while it was still possible, stood in the room watching the man in doubt while he snatched a chair from beside a cupboard to place it by the hatch.

"Take a seat." Heisenberg ordered and Ethan stayed in his place, not obeying his competitor. "Listen, Ethan. You're being played."

"What are you talking about? You think this is a game?" Ethan hissed through his teeth meanwhile the lord put out his Cuban cigar, pressing the burning side onto the small table. Ethan had expected some sort of answer from the mutant, but to his surprise Heisenberg aggressively tossed a knife towards the wall covered in pictures and pushed Ethan into the unsteady metal chair instead... the chair almost staggering over the edge of the big hole by all the force falling down onto it.

"I said sit!!" Heisenberg backed off a bit afterwards and continued his story. "Lady super-sized bitch..." The knife stabbed the wall as it made its way to the picture of Lady Dimitrescu. "Ugly-ass psycho doll...." The knife again marked the wall, now resting in the photo of Donna Beneviento and Angie Beneviento. "And that moronic freak." The knife made one last change in direction, the picture of Salvatore Moreau. "Don't you get it? It's a test, to see if you're strong enough... to be part of Miranda's family."

"I don't want to be part of Miranda's family."

"Neither did I! But here we are." Heisenberg raised his voice and Ethan took in a deep breath. "And I'm next in line, right? Kill me, move up the chain! Well, fuck that!!" The knife carved the wall as it was forced through the image of Mother Miranda, messing it up.

"I don't give a damn about your personal issues! I just want to fix my daughter!" The lord laughed in response.

"So do I! Do you have any idea how powerful that kid is? Even Miranda is scared of her..." For a second time there was a very loud engine sound hearable and the man deeply sighed in frustration. "Last time, you freak, I swear to god!"

Afterwards making his way to Ethan, Lord Heisenberg gave away his green and grey eyes by removing his glasses and held his chin up, the hat moving a bit upwards to reveal his full face. Scars were located all across his face and he smirked.

"You and me, Ethan! Together we go save Rose, and then we can use her to grind Miranda to paste." Heisenberg closed his fist with strength, acting like he was squeezing a bug to death. Ethan stood before a tough decision; Fight Lord Heisenberg and then hope he could safe his daughter from Mother Miranda all alone... or collude against Mother Miranda with the help of Heisenberg and save his daughter that way. He knew it was wrong to work together with someone who was once his enemy and was willing to use his daughter as a weapon, but it gave him more certainty to actually succeed and get his little girl back. Ethan stood up from his chair and swallowed before nodding.

"When do we start?"

~~~

Heisenberg had taken Ethan to his lab to explain what he'd been up to all along and both men now faced each other while sitting down onto different obsolete metal sofas. "Most of this was already put in working before I decided to show up here to save Rose?"

"This is my fucking lifework. Years I have been creating these soldats to deal with Miranda once and for all. It's time for her to die." The man passionately spoke up and pointed at the soldats hanging from a conveyor belt that ran through the factory. "So, Ethan Winters, what do you say?"

"The plan sounds good to me."

"Well then, lets get to work. See you on the other side... Ethan."

Ethan knew exactly what to do because Heisenberg had explained in detail what the plan was. Ethan was going to disturb the ceremony that was taking place so that the lord could launch a surprise attack on Miranda with his invented army. Although, before it could work, Ethan first had to stop by the Duke to restock his ammunition and healing juice. Fast traveling over the stone bridge towards the elevator in the altar, he returned to the Duke.

"Ah... Ethan Winters. I feel like this will be the last time we meet again... It was quite some news to hear you joined Lord Heisenberg's side." The duke folded his hands together, somewhere deep down noticeable that he was delighted to see his loyal customer and good friend back alive.

"Yeah, well, I didn't have much of a choice, did I?"

"You had a choice, but knew that this settlement would be most effective. Now, I suppose you have to act quickly so feel free to peruse." Buying ammunition and healing juice with the last money Ethan had, the friends said their last goodbyes and carried on their separated ways. This would be it. This would be the moment where Ethan would finally get his daughter Rose back. Shoving himself through the filthy black strands know as mold, he saw the blond woman in her black and gold robe shouting for Eva, her dead daughter she lost to the Spanish flu, to be reborn. The moment Ethan wanted to fire his first shot with his M1851 Wolfsbane Magnum, there was a sharp sound audible and then loud rock music followed.

"What the-....?" Ethan cursed under his breath, not knowing what the fuck was happening, but the distractive music seemed to caught Miranda off guard and the chamber of mold crumbled down around them. It looked like Miranda had lost her focus. The distraction gave Ethan a better shot and Miranda jerked her head towards him, glaring deathly at him as he pulled the trigger. The bullet didn't do much to her, but the arena was now free from the mold and it was possible for Heisenberg to step into the destroyed area, which he did. He was still secretly jamming to the loud rock music that was playing on his speakers back in the factory and Ethan wondered what the actual limit of the volume was because it was so terribly loud, even from where they were now.

"Heisenberg! I should have known you were planning an rebellion against me. Unfortunately for the both of you, the ceremony will be complete once dawn breaks and I will become her true mother!" Miranda shouted dramatically and opened her arms widely, letting her six wings stretch out before her mutation took place. Heisenberg just scoffed and threw his Cuban cigar to the ground, stepping on it.

"I'm not letting you get away." Ethan yelled, shooting a few more times at the orange eye that was visible in the upper center of her face. It probably was her weakness. In the meantime that Ethan was busy shooting at the six winged dead looking woman, Heisenberg simply just leaned on his hammer. His head was banging to the music while he watched the scene for a moment, but that was until he forced himself to participate into the battle as well. Putting his thumb and index finger close to his mouth, he whistled as noisy as possible and immediately an army of Lycans and soldats joined him. Miranda was amazed at what was happening before her eyes, but managed to kill several soldats at once with the mold spearing them. Heisenberg groaned in frustration, understanding that his life creations perhaps weren't fully prepared for these kind of attacks coming from her.

Heisenberg sighed and closed his green, grey eyes. It was time... time for him to mutate and face Miranda together with Ethan. He had to defeat her. That was what he wished for all these years after all. Heisenberg listened to the guitar solo in the background as his mind started to control and use the metal scrap from his broken soldats to continue his mutation. Ethan couldn't be distracted by the creature Heisenberg had become and so he kept his attention strictly on Miranda, ready to hit her again. Sadly, he was out of luck. His M1851 Wolfsbane Magnum ran out of ammo and while Ethan tried to block her next attack, Heisenberg seized the opportunity to knock her to the ground before she had the change to launch herself at Ethan.

Heisenberg accelerated his actions and grabbed Miranda tightly before pressing her against one of the broken stone walls. With his other metal arm he activated his saw and wounded her body, but soon found out she could regenerate herself. Her spider legs turned into wings, bigger than before, and she hurled the flames she had summoned when Heisenberg wasn't paying attention. He was blinded and was pushed back by the blow. The lord quickly realized that his mutation was quite easy for Miranda to defeat because of the length and width of his mechanistic form and he turned back to his human form. This way he could use the metal scrap for a shield and dodge all her attacks faster.

"Ethan! Bring your ass over here!" The man growled, seeing that Ethan was laying somewhere on the floor, being completely useless, and Ethan raised to his feet... stumbling a bit, but not giving up.

"I don't have any fucking bullets left!"

"Well good luck keeping her focused on you then!" His gravelly voice yelled over the rock music for only Ethan to hear and he shook his head in confusion, though, he had no time to understand it because Miranda immediately jumped right in front of him. The lord had time to create a stairs of the floating metal with activating his abilities and he ran to the top, hoping Miranda hadn't seen this shit coming or else they both were certainly doomed. Ethan, meanwhile, was fighting off the woman and it was the perfect timing for Heisenberg to put his second plan in working. Heisenberg dropped himself from the stairs, his hammer above his head and aiming at the weakness of Mother Miranda. Hitting her, her back was blown into the floor and she screamed in agony. The combo of the shots of the M1851 Wolfsbane Magnum and the terribly heavy hammer had managed to defeat her.

"My daughter.... My Eva!" She held her arms high and went numb, her body falling apart and turning into ash.

"After an eternity.... that bitch is finally gone." Heisenberg laughed enthusiastically and turned around to face Ethan only to see him crumbling down with Rose in his arms.

"I think we finished each other...."

#karl heisenberg #house heisenberg #heisenberg factory #neil newbon #resident evil village #alcina dimitrescu #resident evil 8 #re8 heisenberg #re8 village #re8 #salvatore moreau #donna beneviento #angie beneviento

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mischievoushiddleston · 3 years

Text

Arranged Marriage

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, Arranged Marriage

Words: 2.2K

Masterlist here!

"I think I'm going to have a panic attack." Y / N leaned against the dresser and put her hand against her pounding heart as she breathed in and out quickly. "I can not do this." "Y / N, calm down and breathe in and out slowly." Y / B / F said and gently took Y / N's hands in hers. "I know you can do it." Y / N shook her head. “How am I supposed to marry a man I've never met. I never wanted to get married for political reasons, I wanted to get married when I love a man. ”Y / N explained with tears in his eyes. "I don't love the prince, Y / B / F." Y / B / F opened her mouth to reassure the princess and friend, but was interrupted by a knock on the doors of their apartments. "Come in!" Y / N called and the doors opened instantly. A gray haired beautiful woman entered the room and Y / N hurried to wipe away her tears. “Mother, what are you doing here? I have to prepare for the ceremony. " "Can't I visit my beautiful daughter on her wedding day?" Y / N forced a smile and nodded. "I wanted to give you something else." Her mother reached behind her neck and opened her necklace. "This is my grandmother's necklace, she gave it to me on my wedding day and now I want to pass it on to you." Y / N turned around and her mother put the necklace on her. "She's beautiful, thank you mother." She thanked her and looked at herself in the mirror.

"I'm so proud of you. You connect the royal houses of Asgard and Alfheim and create lasting peace between our planets. ”She gently stroked Y / N's cheek. "I know that you wished to marry out of love, but I wish for you that one day you will love him, Y / N." Y / N looked at the floor and nodded slightly. "Well then we'll meet again at the ceremony." Her mother left the room and Y / N set off a few minutes later. They stopped in front of the large doors of the throne room and Y / N looked one last time at Y / B / F, who smiled encouragingly at them. The doors opened and Y / N stepped gracefully into the crowded room. Thousands of eyes were on her, but Y / N’s gaze was on the floor, not brave enough to stand up to her soon-to-be husband. Finally she reached the altar and a hand reached out to her. Y / N gathered up their courage and looked into Prince Loki's ice-blue eyes. Reluctantly, she put her hand in his and started up the stairs. “Asgard residents. Residents of Alfheim. We have come together today to attend the Covenant for the Lives of Y / N and Loki… ”Thor, the new King of Asgard, began his speech, but Y / N could not take her gaze from Loki. "I know this marriage may not be voluntary for you, but I hope that one day you will be able to accept me as your husband." Loki spoke softly and quietly. It was unfamiliar to Y / N who had heard thousands of stories about Loki about how cruel he should be. She heard Loki being asked if he would take her to his wife. "Yes, I'll take Princess Y / N as my wife." Thor turned to Y / N and asked her the same question.

"Yes, I will take Prince Loki to my husband." The hall began to clap loudly, but for them the noise was far away. Y / N got dazed with how a ribbon was tied around Loki's and her hands and they were tied together for the evening by an old spell. Loki gently cupped her cheek and leaned over to her. He silently asked for her permission to kiss her, and Y / N granted her husband. His lips moved slowly with hers and Y / N kissed him back. The world seemed to vanish around the two of them as they kissed each other. Loki broke away from the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers. He smiled slightly at her, and for the first time that day, she smiled sincerely back. Loki bandaged his fingers with hers and went together into the adjoining hall for the party. Y / N was glad that not too many people were there. The newly married couple accepted the congratulations from the guests and they hoped that it would soon be over. When the five dozen guests were about to congratulate them, Loki leaned over to Y / N. "Would you like to dance?" Loki asked, unable to keep a slight mischievous smile from his lips. Y / N smiled and nodded as Loki led them onto the dance floor. "I remember you, I met you when we were kids." Loki explained and Y / N smiled when she remembered. "You were the boy who turned the servant into a frog, weren't you?" Y / N asked with a laugh and Loki nodded with a grin.

"I hope you're not too disappointed to be my wife." Loki turned her around the ballroom. “I am not disappointed. In fact, I'm actually glad I'm married to you. ”Y / N explained and Loki raised his eyebrow in question. "Oh really?" Loki asked and Y / N nodded with a smile. He stopped on the dance floor. "I'll try to make you happy and be a good husband to you, Y / N" Loki leaned forward and kissed her tenderly. After several hours that they both spent at the festival, they said goodbye to their family and went to his rooms. Y / N was noticeably nervous when the doors of the room closed. Loki lifted her chin gently so that she was looking at him. "So?" Y / N bit her lip. "We won't do anything you don't want, Y / N." Loki promised and stroked her cheek with his thumb. "Even if the people expect us to?" Y / N asked, holding his hand on her cheek. “I don't care about the people. You're my woman. I won't have sex with you tonight, I'll just hold you in my arms while we fall asleep. I'll wait as long as you need. ”Loki explained lovingly. "What if I want to consummate our marriage tonight?" Y / N looked seductively at him through her lashes. She stepped closer to him and placed her free hand on his chest.

"Are you sure?" Loki asked again, searching her eyes for the answer. Y / N nodded and bit her lip as she took turns looking from his eyes to his lips. He smiled before leaning over and kissing her tenderly. Loki put his arm around her waist and pulled her body against his. She felt his hard erection pressing against her. Loki turned her over, her right hand intertwined with his hand on her left side. He put his left hand on her neck and kissed Y / N's neck. Loki kissed her between her shoulder blades. His hand went down to the zipper of her dress and opened it. She was glad that her sleeve had a slit up to her shoulder and Loki only had to open a button, otherwise the band on her hands would have made it problematic. He pushed the dress down her body and it bundles up around her feet. She got out of her dress and was turned over by Loki. Y / N blushed when Loki looked at her body, only a pair of panties still covered her. "You are stunningly beautiful." Loki said. He caressed her upper arm affectionately and lifted her chin so she could look at him. "I can't believe how lucky I am that you are my wife." Loki kissed her and picked her up by the waist. She wrapped her legs around his waist and moaned into the kiss as his erection pressed against her clothed pussy. He carefully placed them on the dark green, silky paint. He gently pushed her legs apart and sat between them. Loki kissed her neck down to her breasts and took her nipple into his mouth. He massaged her other breast and rolled her nipple between his fingers as he sucked on her other nipple. Loki pulled away from her breasts and continued his way down. He kissed her stomach and lifted her leg over his shoulder and kissed the inside of her thigh down to her panties. Loki looked up and silently asked permission. When he found his answer, he pulled her panties over her legs and carelessly tossed them next to the bed. He ran his finger over the already wet crease of her pussy.

"Mhm ..." Y / N moaned softly and closed her eyes. Loki licked the juices off her finger. "By the norns, you taste delicious." He leaned down and began to lick her pussy as if he were a starving man. Y / N reached into his jet black hair as her husband licked it. She lifted her hips off the bed as he started sucking on her clit. Loki pushed two of his fingers into her tight pussy and began to thrust into her. "Oh ... Loki ..." Y / N's groans filled the room. She could feel the orgasm coming, but Loki pulled his fingers out of her pussy and grinned mischievously. His clothes disappeared in a green mist and her husband was naked. He crawled over her body and put her legs around his hips. Her two hands were intertwined next to Y / N's head. "Are you still sure?" He asked and Y / N nodded, not trusting her words. Loki moved his hips to find the entrance to her pussy and first pushed the tip of his cock into her. He thrust into her a little and with each thrust he pushed his cock a little more into her wet pussy. Y / N lifted her hips impatiently and let Loki slide into her in one quick thrust. He leaned his forehead against hers and they both gasped. Loki waited until Y / N had adjusted to him before he pulled his cock almost completely out of her pussy and only the tip remained in her. He thrust back into her just as slowly. "Faster ... Loki ..." Loki wrapped his free arm around Y / N and pushed harder and faster into her. He turned her over so she was sitting on top of him, her hands on Y / N's thighs. Loki picked her up and started poking her from that angle. He bumped her G-spot repeatedly and Y / N writhed against him.

"Norns, you're so tight around my cock." Loki groaned and buried his face in the crook of his wife's neck. He nibbled at the point between her ear and throat. Y / N scratched his back with her nails and it was clear to her that she would leave marks on his back. But she didn't care if anyone could see it, after all, he's her husband. He pushed hard into her and Y / N began to tighten around him, her body starting to shake uncontrollably. Loki felt that his wife was about to climax. He loosened his arm around her waist and began rubbing her clit. His cock thrust her pussy a few more times before it stiffened and came. However, Loki was far from finished and fucked her through her orgasm. "Oh ... God ... Loki." Y / N groaned and Loki smiled. "I may be a god, but I'm your husband too," he said mischievously, thrusting his cock hard into her. Loki began to pulse against her walls and rubbed her clit, quickly her second orgasm began to build up. "Come with me and let me fill you with my sperm and our marriage will begin to fill you with our offspring." Y / N groaned excitedly and this morning she wouldn’t have expected the idea of having Loki's child like that would be delighted. He poked her hard one last time and shot his hot cum into her pussy. Y / N came over his tail at the same moment. Loki pulled out of her and his sperm flowed down the inside of her thigh. The ribbon that had tied their hands together dissolved into a golden sheen and both looked at it intently. Y / N smiled at Loki, who smiled too. She kissed him quickly and Loki gently sat her down on the bed next to him as he quickly disappeared into the bathroom. After a few seconds he came back with a wet washcloth in his hands. He quickly wiped his cum off her thigh and pussy before throwing it next to him. Loki climbed back into the bed and pulled Y / N closer to him. She rested her head on his chest and started drawing small circles on his chest with her finger. "I hope I haven't been too rough with you?" Loki asked worriedly, looking down at her.

"Absolutely not, I really liked it." Y / N said and yawned wearily. "I think your chances are good that I will fall in love with you." "I think I might fall in love with you too." He pushed a strand of hair back from her face and kissed her forehead lightly before falling asleep too.

Taglist is open! @smoke-and-sunsets @everybitch @coco-puffses @fa-me

#marvel #loki #tom hiddleston #mcu #loki odinson #marvel cinematic universe #loki smut #marvel loki #loki god of mischief #loki ragnarok #loki laufeyson #tom hiddleston smut

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bokutoslittlebird · 4 years

Text

Sorrow [pt. 2 of Regrets]

Alpha!Ushijima x Beta!f!reader

Warnings: this is angst and nothing else, mentions of reader’s death, miscarriage, Japanese funeral, introduction of [Y/N]’s family (no names), Ushijima’s bitch of a mother

The week after your suicide was the worst.

The day after is when Ushijima was informed by your distressed father, asking if he had heard the news. With his now-wife in the kitchen, making him breakfast, he listened to your father hold back his cries as he broke the news. Your funeral would be held soon, but family matters came first, so the wake would be held in the next two days. When his wife asked him what was the matter, he told her nothing. It was no longer his business. He left you hurt and broken, but this was not his place anymore. The invitation he received would not be used.

The next day was when he decided he would be attending your wake. A phone call from Tendō had him changing his decision, his sad voice asking if Ushijima can give the condolences he could not. Of course Ushijima would decide to go after that, giving your family a hefty amount of money and telling them it was his and Tendō’s condolence money. A trip to Japan suddenly was hard for Tendō, so hopefully your family would understand.

His wife seemed displeased at this event he’d be going to, but she said no more. He knew what she thought. She thought he wasn’t over you. Looking at her across the dinner table, he couldn’t find himself to blame her. The off-the-shoulder dress she adorned showed off her flawless skin — not a single bruise, hickey, or bond along it. After all, his mother was never bonded to his father, why would he force himself to bond to her?

But he bonded you.

He wonders if deep down inside, he did want to be with you. It would’ve never worked out, he tells himself when that thought flickers in his mind. A small candle he quickly snuffs out as soon as it’s lit, not wanting the flame to burn to bright nor too hot.

The day had finally arrived. Other Shiratorizawa alumni and peers of yours attended. A wake was held at your family’s house, to which he was also there. It was hard to ignore, but he felt out of place while people had their heads in their hands and continued to sob until tears stopped flowing. He felt sad, he shed a few tears, but not as much. Some friends of yours would look at him, glaring before looking back towards the altar.

Upon the altar, surrounded by flowers, especially your favorite, sat a picture of you. It looked like you — smiling joyfully as you held up a peace sign. In the back was the rest of the Shiratorizawa’s VBC. The picture was from last year, when he was still attending the school. You were only a second year, but you were the best manager for the team, even if they lost to Karasuno. A smile was plastered on your face, placed so freely and easily as if it was meant to never leave. Thinking back to when you left his house, you weren’t smiling.

That didn’t sit right with him.

When it was his time to be given a gift from the family members, your mother stopped him. “I’m glad you came. I’m sure she’s glad you came, too,” she said through her tears, a forced smile on her face. Ushijima wipes the tears away, before taking the gifts from her hands.

“I hope so, but I doubt it. Satori also gives his condolences. I know he’d be here if he wasn’t so far away,” he says, bowing. She thanks him and he leaves, but a friend of yours stops him before he can go too far.

“It’s your fault, you know. She wouldn’t be dead if you hadn’t left her,” they sneered, glaring at him despite the tears in their eyes and wavering lips. He sighs, but doesn’t dispute their claim. It isn’t his place to tell them where the blame lies. The blame lies in someone, whether that be him, them, your parents, society, or even you — it’s not up to him to tell them any different.

By the time Ushijima has made it to his car, his phone buzzes. From the hospital his wife goes to for checkups, he notes. Taking the call, he listens to the receptionist on the other end of the call.

“I’m sorry to inform you this way, sir, but your wife has suffered from a miscarriage,” she says. Ushijima feels his heartbeat increase as he feels his chest tighten. He won’t lie to himself and say he loves his wife — an arrangement forced by his mother with no room for love to bloom. However, the news of her miscarriage is news he didn’t expect or want to hear.

“Where...” he gulps, trying to stabilize his breathing. “Where is she?”

“She’s at the hospital. She won’t be able to leave for the next day or so, depending if she feels better and nothing is wrong with her. We’ll keep her overnight to check.”

“Thank you. I’ll come to get her tomorrow, then,” he ends the call there. He doesn’t question how she got there, if he should go, or if he should just sit in his car and watch people leave your wake. Sitting in his car doing exactly that, he decides going home to take in everything would be best.

Your funeral begins the next day at noon, Ushijima in attendance. With nobody at home, he feels as if this is a funeral for you and his miscarried child. He witnesses your family pay a hefty amount of money to give you a more elaborate name, most likely from the condolence money he offered to them. He thinks it’s fitting, given he didn’t do much when you were alive; in death, you’d benefit from his existence.

When the priest finishes the ceremony, the guests are able to see you upon your casket bed. Your mother weeps at the coffin, holding your favorite flowers to her chest while your father cries silently, rubbing his wife’s back. It’s a pitiful scene, but it does well to have tears springing into everyone’s eyes. Ushijima doesn’t have your favorite flowers, but rather a purple hyacinths and asphodel bouquet to place beside you. His place of choice? Above your heart, next to the bond he created. Despite the makeup and the kimono, he knows it’s there. He can sense it.

His sorrow comes from the lack of a beat behind the bond.

Once the funeral has come to a close, with your coffin being taken to the crematorium and your family moving to go follow, everyone is dismissed. However, your friend from before stops him before he can retreat to his car. “May I help you?”

“I saw the flowers you placed around her head. You do have a heart, apparently,” they scoffed, before moving to get off his car. A quick glance shows they didn’t damage it. “You shouldn’t have even been here. I wish she had never even met you and I regret telling her about the volleyball manager position.”

Ushijima doesn’t say a word back, but he does bow respectfully. They leave without looking back, letting him peacefully get into his car. He takes a couple of minutes to himself, knowing he has to go retrieve his wife from her hospital stay.

The drive home from the hospital was brutal. Silence hung in the air, Ushijima still dressed from when he attended your funeral. His wife sat in the passenger seat, yet had her eyes trained on the window and didn’t glance at him even once. He didn’t tell her he’d be going to your funeral as well, which might be why she’s upset, but he didn’t push an issue.

Arriving at home, she finally opened her mouth. “Your mother will be picking me up soon. She said she’ll take care of me while I properly recover.”

Once more, Ushijima says nothing. She scoffs, leaving the car to get her things. He doesn’t hurry, instead dragging his feet as he enters the house. It’s big and spacious, easy to feel alone in. When a knock resounds through the front room, Ushijima answers it to see his mother, the constant frown on her face as she looks up at him.

“I’ve come to get Mai.” Quick and to the point, as usual. She enters when he allows it, with his wife coming into the room shortly after. With barely any acknowledgement to his presence, his mother guides his wife out, rubbing her shoulder as she sniffles and spills some tears.

A click behind the door shutting really lets the silence settle. Ushijima trudges up to his bedroom, loosening his tie and shedding his jacket along the way. He changes into some more comfortable clothes, sitting on his edge of the bed while scrolling through the text messages Tendō has sent him throughout the day. Nothing of importance, but some of them do make him smile as it lights up the darkness life has forced upon him.

One of the messages is an old picture, one of Tendō and you throwing up a peace sign while smiling widely. Your eyes are shut while you grin, absolutely full of joy. With nobody around to witness his confession, nor the tears plinking against his phone screen, he doesn’t feel the need to snuff out the candle again. He doesn’t shove his feelings deep inside.

“I’m sorry, [Y/N]. I shouldn’t have let you go and I should have been honest. I truly do love you. I regret not standing up to my mother. I regret not having the strength to confront my mistake. But most of all,” he wipes a few tears, zooming in on your smiling face, a sorrowful smile on his face to mirror yours.

“I regret letting you leave that day.”

Author’s Note: This is the direct sequel to Regrets ; the flowers mentioned (purple hyacinths and asphodels) both represent a similar meaning — regret and “I’m sorry”, which I thought was fitting to the original work, as well as the other piece I’m working on. However, purple hyacinths also express the bearer’s sorrow and asks for forgiveness, which is where the title comes from for this piece.

#haikyuu x reader #BB.Requests #haikyuu omegaverse #Mr. Wakatoshi #Ushijima.Angst #ushijima x reader #BB.Angst #tw.suicide #tw.death #tw.miscarriage #I cried while writing this #BB.🐾

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pedrosbrat · 3 years

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Sorrow You Are My Light {Pero Tovar x Max Phillips x F!Reader}

CHAPTER II : Land Of Broken Promises

AU - Vampire Hunters

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Angst, Sad Memories, BLOOD, VAMPIRE FIGHT, Language, alcohol, yearning, violence (fight) , mention of murder, mention of children death, sword, church massacre, some feelings …

Summary: The three of you will go looking for Max’s creator, making unexpected encounters on your way, also discovering that you don’t hate vampires as much as you think...

Little Comment : Hi everyone, it’s my first series, I hope you will like it (if you see any mistakes let me know and I will correct it) & 1 chapter will be published every week, every Saturday⚔️reblog are appreciated ♥ Enjoy!

Chapter 1 - Series Masterlist

You've always known and understood that your life wasn't the way you wanted it to be, that it's a state of being that's pretty pathetic and that your whole life revolves around your grief. But collaborating with a vampire was never in your plans, and when you woke up this morning you really didn't think you'd end up talking to this Max Philips who seems quite comfortable with the both of you. That's when you knew you were really in a bad way… A vampire comfortable with vampire hunters…

Max for his part is not quite as comfortable as you think, but he doesn't show it still keeping that smug and amused look on his face, not showing that anything is getting to him. He tries to ignore the way you look at him with disgust in your eyes and a deep hatred in pero's eyes. He knows everyone hates vampires, but he thinks you seem to hate them in a rather personal way and wonders what has happened to the both of you to get to this point... Having no prospects, no attachments to anyone... A very lonely life, even spending it as a duo...

⊱•~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ •⊰

"We heard there was a massacre not far from here, Father," Max says with a more than innocent and sweet look on his face.

You turn to Pero and roll your eyes, tired of this little comedy he's been putting on for two days now. But Pero doesn't care, he's more worried about the rest of your little adventures, realising that he doesn't know his enemy as well as he thought he did, not understanding how a vampire can enter a church for example. "What do I know, Pero?" you answer him, more and more worried with each moment you spend with him too.

Not that you fear him... Or maybe a little, realizing with every step you take that, places that are supposed to protect you won't, and that every weapon that is supposed to hurt him has no effect on him... He must have a weakness...

So, two days ago, contrary to what you thought, Max had not taken you back to the forest where the massacre took place near your home and took you west, explaining that after attracting so much attention, members of his species never stay in one place. He explained to you that they have a method of travel that is not as random as you might think: When one superior vampire is spotted in the east, the other will head west, because when attention is suddenly focused on one place it can become too dangerous for all members of their species.

You have also discovered that what Max calls vermin, are vampires who were simply bitten and left for dead, that the ritual was not completed, bringing them back to life as mere vegetables that follow any order... Mere flesh to be slaughtered.

You've learned a lot in the last few days... Wondering if he was making it all up... Why was he telling you all their secrets? And how many of them are like him?

"Apparently there's been another massacre in the nearby town and..." "I always thought you called it a buffet." said Pero cutting Max off, flashing a smirk on his face, obviously very proud of his remark "... For there to be a buffet handsome, someone would have to eat." he replied simply as he got back on his horse starting to gallop, overriding the vampire joke, leaving you to follow closely behind him puzzled "He..." You hesitate to ask him too much, not wanting him to think at any point that you're even remotely close to trusting him "You can ask your question, I don't bite..." he said with a smirk, holding back from making his joke. Pero gave him a cold look, letting him know that he didn't find it funny at all, and Pero simply raised his arms in apology, "I was just wondering if... They don't eat them?" you say, disgusted with the image your mind has just created. "Oh no, not with the buffet he made himself less than two days ago..." he says, referring to the massacre in the forest.

He stopped talking for a moment, and you thought you saw a hint of sadness in his eyes for a brief moment, before he began to smile again, noticing that you were watching him "... No, this is all just a game to him, like a simple hunting party" "And don't you play occasionally MAX?" asked Pero as he turned to him, gradually moving deeper into the village "Not like this... But I can show you the other ways I entertain myself if you wish".

Pero frowned and turned his head. For a moment you thought you saw his cheeks turn red. Maybe I imagined... Like that night when we were both around the fire... That night when you told him that his scar didn't bother you, that it gave him a charm, on top of what he already had... But he wouldn't blush in front of this creature... So you put the thought out of your mind and just answer him as calmly as you can. Imagining for a few seconds the two men doing things that you could not name out loud, feeling a certain heat growing in your sex... God, what's happening to me? Pull yourself together!

"It's going to be dark soon, we'll go and inspect the place tomorrow" you say starting to head towards the nearest stable "No, we're going tonight" says Max as he pulls on your harness. You stop completely before dismounting your horse, "We don't hunt vampires at night. "And that's why you spend more time on it, or maybe it works with the little varmints you usually hunt, but with this one you're going to have to make an effort sweetie."

"Don't call her that," Pero says dryly. Max turns around quite surprised by this request, knowing that he doesn't react the same way, when he calls handsome.

You look at Pero who makes you understand that you have to try. You have no choice. So, when night falls and you have taken the time to tie your horses to a tree not far from the church in question, you follow your new travelling companion very closely, remaining more than ever on your guard, being convinced that you are walking into a trap. Nevertheless, you can't help noticing how broad he is, like Pero, and wonder what it would be like to be between these two men in bed...

You obviously don't notice that Pero has his eyes on the same places as you, thinking the same things as you, for a few seconds: what would it be like to spend a night with you in his arms as he has always wished and a man who doesn't repulse him as much as he thought he would... He wonders how he could have attached himself to Max so quickly, secretly starting to like him... He chases his thoughts away when your words bring him back to reality, avoiding a bulge that would have been more than embarrassing at this moment...

"He will feel us coming no matter what…" you say "Not necessarily... In the same way that you humans can't use all your senses correctly when you drink too much..." he says, leaving you to guess what he was about to say next. You don't know if you can believe what he is just told you, but as for the information about their survival, he hasn't lied to you so far... So why not...

The church that the village priest told you about the massacre is still soaked with blood. You feel your stomach lurch, never getting used to the loss of human life and bodies lying around you, starting to give off a putrid smell from the heat. Pero squeezes your shoulder lightly, knowing your aversion to this kind of sight, but you try not to flinch, gripping your sword tighter in your hands.

"We have to..." you start but Max rushes to put a hand over your mouth faster than you can anticipate. You find yourself pressed against his chest, being able to feel every part of his body against yours, his scent intoxicating your breathing space... He smells good, and his body is hard and pleasurable, you wonder what it would be like in another situation, but quickly push the thought from your mind AGAIN, thinking that you're probably just horny for the slightest contact you've wanted to have with Pero for years, and no men has ever satisfied you correctly...

He says nothing and stops in the direction of the open door near the altar, inhaling in that direction. Pero walks around the few benches still standing in his path, sword in hand, leaning against the wall where the door is, where Max is interested. But you notice that Max shakes his head with every step he takes, signalling him to back off. You wouldn't trust a vampire in any situation, but for this one, for Pero, you don't hesitate for a second.

You start to move towards him before Max can realize it, and try to silently reach Pero, telling yourself that if the vampire in the room next to him is there, maybe Max wasn't lying to you after all... But a woman suddenly appeared from the doorway, her face gorged with blood, black veins surrounding her eyes, turning her gaze directly towards Pero, who barely had time to raise his sword to hit her in the cheek, causing her cheek to smoke slightly from the contact of the silver on her skin, followed by a shrill cry and a black look of anger towards Tovar.

He didn't flinch and just tried to give her another blow with his blade, which this time he hoped would pierce her flesh, but she quickly avoided it, laughing, almost amused that you were trying to fight her. You glance behind you wondering where Max might be and see him struggling with another vampire who must have been watching you from behind. The two men are hitting each other with a strength you've never seen before, you've never seen two vampires fight before today... In a split second a second vampire comes up behind him, and you are about to warn him, feeling a sudden concern for him, but you don't need to, before you can see it, he comes up behind the vampire he's standing with facing the newcomer, rips off the head of his first opponent and grabs the new one by the throat to sink his fangs into it and rip out his throat before cracking his neck and dropping him to the ground. You watch him perform all these moves in a few seconds and find yourself slightly excited by this...

You shake your head slightly and come to your senses despite yourself, suddenly finding yourself thrown against one of the walls. A deep pain runs through your body, but you don't pay attention to it, you are used to this kind of feeling and you stand up to give a precise blow of your blade to your opponent, cutting his leg and then separating his head from the rest of his body.

You then grab one of your powder pouches and throw it in the face of the one who is still attacking Pero despite all the wounds he has inflicted on her to try and distract her for a short while. But it doesn't work, and only brings her attention to you. You then grab your sword and thrust it into her arm, driving it as deep as you can.

She doesn't scream, and smiles at you, preventing you from regaining possession of your sword, and grabs you by the throat, lifting you slightly off the ground with her fangs slowly coming out to rest against her lips, until something sinks into her chest and forces her to let go of you "Vete al infierno, hijo de puta" : Pero's sword. She looks at you for a short moment before her body turns completely grey and lies coldly on the ground before forming a pile of ash.

Pero leans towards you and checks your neck, pushing your hands away roughly, "I'm fine Pero... Pero..." Something grabs him by the throat in turn, but as always Pero reacts quickly, and grabs the dagger at your calf to slice the hand around it and turns to face his enemy, another vampire who he inflicts a dagger blow to the leg, knocking him completely off balance.

A hand suddenly appears at your side, you point your sword in that direction. But it's only Max, his hands completely bloody, blood still dripping from his lips, and strangely it doesn't repel you like it usually does, so you grab his hand without any hesitation. "Are you going to help Pero or watch?" you say, pointing in your friend's direction, "He's doing great, I think! We could just go and talk about the little looks you gave me instead of fighting" he says with a smile, pointing to the church exit. But you don't smile and put a more than serious look on your face, "I'm just kidding, sweetheart... I have to talk with our dear Ted anyway..." he says, dropping his jacket on one of the broken pews of the church.

Ted... Does he know him? Of course, he knows him...

He disappears before you can ask him the question and finds himself with his hands around the throat of this Ted, pushing his head down the stone stairs of the church, with remarkable ease " Where is he? " Says Max pulling out his fangs, " You'll never find him, he'll find you before my dear brother does, to kill you, when he'll be done with Tarja, and you'll join them... with your new friends ". he said, laughing. Max put a foot on his back and grabbed his hair and yanked his head away.

You glance at Pero, who doesn't really pay attention to you, staring at Max, who is also staring at him, waiting for an explanation for these last words, but he doesn't say anything and just goes around him and grabs his jacket to leave the church. "Pero..." "I don't think he's lying to us..." he simply said, cutting you off "... He's not lying to us Pero... You should have seen the rage in his eyes when he was fighting them... You know I hate them as much as you do, but apparently we're going to have to trust this one." you say, running your thumb over his cheek to get the blood off it. A hand gently grabs your wrist, and you turn to see Max looking at you with a neutral gaze "If you want to talk about me... Write. I can hear you from far away" he says licking your thumb as he stares into Pero's eyes, who says nothing and doesn't give him a disgusted look as he would like to do, that would be lying to himself and this strange attraction he has to this individual, so he just pass his gaze to you before turning back to the horses, leaving Max's gaze plunged into your finger sucking hold, making your clit swell in your trousers. And as if he could feel it, he smiles, letting go of your finger to head back to the horses, leaving you standing in front of the church confused at what just happened between the three of you.

On your departure Pero decided to burn this place, even though you insist on the discontent of the villagers, he persuaded you, making you admit that no one wants to see what is in this place, that no one should have to see such a massacre…

When you were about to leave, the church cross fell into the field around it, and you watched it burn, upside down, probably announcing nothing good for you...

⊱•~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ •⊰

"You could stop looking at everyone like that Pero..." you say sitting in front of your plate in the tavern. "You scare everyone...".

"I don't mind, and I'm not the one who scares them..." he says as he points max up and down with the tip of his fork, making you aware that you are completely covered in blood, probably explaining the extra food the tavern keeper gave you probably scared of you. "And I'm only smiling for you, you know that" he adds silently, letting a simple smile form on your lips, touched by every little attention he expresses, rare as they are, even knowing that you're just a sister to him... It makes you wish he'd say it in another context, one where you wouldn't be just friends.

Your gaze shifts to Max who looks at you tenderly and amused, shaking his head, thinking that you are both blind "Who was that Ted?" you say trying to change the mood at the table. He frowns and doesn't answer, turning his gaze to the people in the tavern who are staring at him. A man completely covered in blood, who hasn't touched a spoonful of his food, accompanied by strangers. With the stories of demons coming to damn the land of your country since you were a child, it doesn't seem suspicious at all.

He then grabs his spoon and takes a portion of soup, without making a single expression. You widen your eyes in surprise at what you've just seen, and Pero frowns in confusion, realising once again that he doesn't know as much about their species as he thought he did, realising that anyone who can blend in could be one of them...“It taste like ashes to me…” say Max quietly, trying to remember what a soup taste like.

"She asked a question," he said, pointing his fork at him. Max smiled at him “It was my brother handsome, and I want you to talk nice to me. I can… feel, that you love to give orders, but I take them only in bed.” Pero didn’t say anything and just frown, faking to not understand what the man was proposing right now and putting some food in his mouth, hiding his desire like he always do with men, usually waiting to be alone. "He was your brother, and you didn't hesitate to kill him, so how can we be sure that you..." you start but Max roll his eyes and cut your sentence "You're not going to doubt me again sweetheart? This is getting lacy and redundant." he says as he puts his spoon down in his bowl"...He wasn't my brother per se... We just had the same maker... Like all vampire in the church tonight..." he says with a smile, but his smile doesn't fool you and lets you see a hint of sadness in his eyes. Something Pero doesn't miss either, something he thought about on your way to the camp, but doesn't say anything about it, interested in his story, nonetheless. "Who are you supposed to join when you die?" he said, breaking the silence around the fire.

He stared at Pero through the flames, and hesitated for a few seconds, but finally spoke, realising that you both trust him a little more every moment, step by step "My wife and daughter..." he said softly, almost inaudible. You and Pero stare at each other, eyebrows furrowed, surprised by this revelation. "I... A vampire child?" says Tovar, pretty sure he's never met one in his life. Max looked at Pero and laughed, "I was human before I was like this, handsome! ... I had a life..." he said sadly, looking into the flames and talking as if he hadn't been able to do so for years. "... I had a farm with my wife in the south of the country, a farm she had always wanted, a farm I had given her with promises of a better life... Our daughter loved the horses we had there... She would wake up and run straight to them every morning, although we told her every morning from the moment she could walk that she had to ask us or tell us... and one evening I asked her to go and check as she always did if all the horses were there..." He paused for a moment trying to smile, probably not wanting to show you that he has feelings, toward the both of you " ... That was the last time I saw her alive. My wife found her completely pale and bleeding in the stable… She let out a scream like I've never heard before. When I arrived, he was on top of her... Already dead with empty eyes, looking at me... and his own face... was so monstrous, soaked in blood, the blood of my beloved... ". he take a little pause, and you let him, putting your hand on his shoulder, before he said something who really broke your heart “I promised her the world to only die on a land of broken promises”

You feel your heart clenching hard in your chest and look at him with compassion, because you can see him as anyone could see him right now that he is not lying to you... Pero hands him a flask not really knowing if he is drinking alcohol or not, but he grabs it, appreciating the gesture and takes a sip before continuing "I grabbed my pitchfork you know... And I tried to struggle against him... But I woke up underground... And he told me later that he liked the fact that I wasn't afraid of him, and preferred to turn me to join him ... I would have preferred to die with them that night... And I was forced to follow him for so many years, I wouldn't have survived a day without it..." he says, passing you the flask.

"You must not be the only one like this” Pero said without an ounce of malice or teasing in his voice as he would normally have seen a member of this species suffer, he was sincerely starting to enjoy the company of this Max Philips, actually sad for him "There's Tarja, who left the clan many years ago before me, and who settled alone near the border in the east... At least that's the last time I saw her there... And if he's after her, she's probably already dead. She wasn't as well trained as us, and much younger..." he says, straightening up slightly and giving you a dry, forced smile.

“If she had lost her family that…” “Oh no it’s more complicated for her beauty… She was a saint in a monastery that he attacked a few years ago… She lost all her children in one night… And he turned her for fun, thinking that a saint with a damned soul would be something fun, I guess…”

Pero frowned his brows and there was silence between you for a few seconds. You put your hand on Pero’s arm and sent him a smile of compassion “… This monastery was in the north? A monastery by a river." asked Pero silently with his eyes closed. "How can you possibly know that you..." “Because your creator did not kill all the children that night...” Pero said, opening his eyes with a dark and sad gaze…

Chapter3

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openheart12 · 3 years

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This Is Where I Belong

A/N: Set during The Conjuring 3 and contains dialogue from the movie (okay quite a bit ifhsdshgskdf)

Summary: Ed is distraught after realizing his wife is in the same place as the Satanist, all alone and rushes to meet her. Only to be under the curse that almost makes him destroy the most important thing to him; his wife.

WC: 2,100

It was the morning after they had found the witch’s totem in Ed’s office and after a sleepless night for everyone, they were gathered in the living room trying to figure out what to do next.

“We have to find this woman. We’ve identified the curse and now we have Jessica’s casefile. There has to be something in here. Okay, I’m gonna take the book to be translated. There has to be a clue about where we can find the altar.” Lorraine said to the small group.

“So what do we do?” Debbie asked.

“You should go be with Arne. He’s gonna need you tonight more than ever. Ask Father Newman for help,” Lorraine explained as she grabbed the keys.

“Drew, you and me are gonna tear into those files. We’ve got to find a link between these cases.” Ed said.

“And a Satanist’s power is strongest at night. So… Let’s hope she doesn’t try anything before then.” Lorraine said, standing up and heading for the door.

“Lorraine, wait!” Ed called, following after her. “I just wanted-” he trailed off, glancing at Debbie and Drew.

“We’ll be in the kitchen,” Drew said, excusing themselves, knowing they needed some privacy. Ed shot him a grateful smile.

“I just wanted to say be careful,” Ed continued.

“I will be,” she answered with a small smile. They hadn’t talked about the night before, both trying to push it out of their heads. Ed had opted to sleep downstairs on the couch much to Lorraine’s disappointment, but she didn’t want to fight him on the subject, knowing that he was scared of potentially hurting her again. “Ed…” she called softly, “stop blaming yourself.”

He forced a small smile, “just, please, be careful.”

“I love you,” she added, wanting to break through whatever walls he had built up.

“I love you too,” he said, a genuine smile on his face this time.

Ed had stayed behind with Drew to go over the casefile they had received. They had been pouring over the information for a couple hours now, not finding anything that linked the cases together and frustration started to build.

“There’s nothing in these interviews. Her friends barely saw her after she got back from college.”

“Didn’t that seem strange to you?” Ed asked. “I mean, we’re here,” he said, pointing to the map, “the Glatzels live here, just fifteen minutes away. But Jessica lived 180 miles from here. Why is this one so far away?” He paused to think, removing his glasses before facing Drew. “Hey, where did Jessica find her totem?”

“I just saw something about that. It was in an interview with her parents, it was in a box,” he said as he searched through the papers in front of him. ‘She brought it back home in a box from college.’”

“Where’d she go to college?”

“Fairfield.” Drew answered. Realization hit Ed as he moved the pin from Jessica’s home to her college in Fairfield and the pins created a triangle. Drew brought over a map and they sat down to look at it. “This woman lives in the area.”

“Still a lot of ground to cover.”

“Yeah, but not a lot of train tracks. Remember Lorraine’s vision? She said she heard a train.”

“What time was it? Maybe we can start eliminating some of these.”

“Probably close to midnight.”

“Then it can’t be either of these two,” Drew said, pointing to two separate lines. “The commuter lines don’t run that late. That just leaves this freight line that crosses the river here.”

“The river. Oh, dear God,” he said, knowing exactly where the altar was and who was probably already there. Fear plagued him and he was unable to do anything for a few minutes before he got up and ran to get his coat. “Give me your keys. You stay here, call the police,” he said as Drew tossed the keys.

“What do you want me to tell them?”

“Anything, just get ‘em out there!” He yelled, shutting the door behind him and running to the car. He didn’t even realize he had forgotten his pills… again.

He started the car and backed out the driveway, holding the gas pedal down to the floorboard as he sped towards the house. He was berating himself for letting Lorraine go there by herself, they were a team and he should’ve been there with her. He never should’ve left her alone. His thoughts were going a hundred miles a minute, much like the speedometer on the car that climbed higher and higher. But his top priority right now was just getting to Lorraine, hoping, praying that was alright.

Trees blurred past him as the sky stretched on for miles. Fear had anchored itself deep into his body like an anchor in the ocean. Time seemed to slow down despite the speedometer telling him otherwise.

After what seemed like hours, he finally saw the house come into view and seeing her car in the driveway made his stomach clench in nerves.

“Lorraine!” He called, jumping out of the car. “Lorraine!”

“Ed!” He heard her call, but she sounded so faint like it was coming from somewhere in the distance.

“Lorraine! Lorraine!” He called, again and again, hoping for some kind of answer.

“Ed? Ed!” She yelled, sounding closer than before. He noticed a storm drain and knelt down beside it.

“Lorraine!” He called into the drain, grunting as he tried to lift it but it had a lock on it. He looked around where he saw a shed and grabbed a sledgehammer, hitting the lock with it twice before breaking it. He removed it and climbed down, throwing the sledgehammer down first. “Lorraine! Lorraine!” He called again, walking down a dark tunnel. Two lights lit up and he jogged down that way, holding the sledgehammer close in case he needed it. “Lorraine?”

“Ed!” He heard her call from behind him, turning around, he saw her running towards him and relief washed over him until at the last second, ‘Lorraine’ turned into the woman he had seen earlier, the woman behind his curse. She blew dirt in his eyes, and he rubbed them, trying to get rid of the burning feeling as he fell to the ground in a heap of coughing.

He didn’t remember what happened next, time seemed to slow down and the next thing he knew, he was wielding the sledgehammer towards Lorraine. He couldn’t stop himself though, his brain screamed that it was wrong, that he needed to stop before he did something he would come to regret. But it was no use. He watched on helplessly as she called out to him, begging him to stop, begging him to remember her.

“Ed? Ed?” She called, shining her flashlight around the darkness as he came out of nowhere, wielding the sledgehammer and hitting a box on the wall that had sparks coming out of it. He swung again, trying to hit something, anything.

“Ed, stop!” Lorraine called as he continued swinging. “Stop! Ed, I’m begging you!” The swinging continued and she knew she was his target. “Ed! Stop! Stop this! Ed, I’m begging you!” She pleaded once more, the sound of the metal screeching across the floor reverbated in her head. “I’m begging you, remember me! Stop!” She cried out, breathing heavily as he followed her still. She gasped seeing his once blue eyes completely white with a look on his face she would never forget.

This wasn’t her husband.

“Ed, stop!” She screamed as he tried to hit her again. “Ed, please. Remember me,” she whispered. “You’re not gonna do this! This is wrong and you know it!” She cried, dodging another swing. She ran away, panting as she tried to hide behind a statue that was broken into a thousand pieces just a moment later. She rolled onto the ground, backing herself up until she made contact with something hard. “Ed… remember me,” she tried again, their eyes locking. This was her last chance. “She tried to turn you against me. Because she thinks our love is our weakness. But it’s not. It’s not. It’s our strength. Now, open your eyes.” She whispered and she shielded her head as he pulled the sledgehammer back before swinging it down again, breaking the altar into two pieces.

The curse was broken.

He held out his shaking hand, offering it to her which she took as she stood up. Before either of them could say anything, Isla walked towards them. Lorraine took a step closer to Ed, their hands intertwined.

“Your curse is broken,” he said as she pointed a knife towards them. The sound of cracking bones and the sight of her body twisting and turning made Ed hold out his arm in front of Lorraine in an attempt to protect her. “You promised a demon a soul. And it can’t go back to hell without one,” he finished as her body crumbled to the ground, lying there limp. He pulled Lorraine into his arms, relishing in the fact that she was safe.

They didn’t say anything, it could wait for now. They would talk later, but they were content with each other’s company and security at the moment. Ed led her to the drain, helping her out first before climbing up after her. He didn’t make it far once out though, falling onto his knees.

“Hon… I… I forgot my pills,” he said, breathing heavily.

He watched as she opened the locket she always wore on her neck, revealing the photo of Judy and one of his white pills inside. She gently handed it to him to put under his tongue before kissing his temple as sirens wailed and red and blue lights lit up the night sky.

After giving their statements to the police, calling Father Gordon, and having Ed checked out by the paramedics, the two of them were finally on their way home. Both of them were utterly exhausted after not being able to sleep the last couple of nights. There were physical and emotional scars they had acquired during this case.

Some that would take months and years to heal. The physical scars would fade, only to serve as a faint reminder of what happened, but the emotional ones lingered still.

And for Ed, he wore the worst ones from this specific case. He never thought he was capable of hurting the most important person to him, the person he would very well give his life for. But he had been, by his choice or not, it didn't matter to him. The fact remained still that if she had been hurt, it would’ve been by his own hands. The same hands that had promised to love and cherish her for as long as he lived in front of all their friends and family.

Once making it home, they both headed straight to their bedroom, not even bothering to change out of their clothes due to their exhaustion. And as exhausted as Ed was, he wasn’t able to sleep. The events of the last day replayed in his head, haunting him.

“Sweetheart?” He was brought out of his thoughts by her gentle voice etched with concern. Concern for him. Even after everything he did to her, she was still concerned about him.

“Yeah?” He choked out, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

“Are you alright?”

“No…” he said, not even attempting to lie to her. She knew him too well. He had his back to her and he felt one of his hands rest on his hip.

“Roll over,” she said softly. And he complied, turning to face her as a few tears slipped down his cheeks. She wiped them away, planting a kiss to his forehead to try to console him as she held him in her arms. “I’m right here,” she whispered in his hair as sobs wracked his weak body.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a while, his voice hoarse. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know. I know. I never blamed you, I still don't, which is why you shouldn’t blame yourself either. We’re both right here, together and that’s what’s important. We can talk more tomorrow, but we need our rest. I don’t want a grumpy husband in the morning,” she teased lightly, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“I love you, Lorraine,” he whispered.

“I know,” she promised, knowing how important it was to him that she knew that.

Eventually, Ed drifted off to sleep in his wife’s arms, never feeling safer than he did right now.

#the conjuring #ed warren #lorraine warren #lorraine x ed warren #the conjuring fanfic #the conjuring universe #Ed x Lorraine #the warrens #the conjuring 3

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mimiplaysgames · 3 years

Text

Terraqua Week Day 6 (Free Day)

Summary: Terra and Aqua are getting married—and Ven is the Bridezilla. || Word Count: 9,058

Read on AO3

A/N: @terraquaweek I could have never written this without my dear friend @localcryptideli. We talked about this wedding years ago, and I promised to write it. It’s here, three years later, blending their headcanons with mine and I couldn’t be more proud of it. <3

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

the threads that tie hearts together

Terra never once considered in his entire life that his wedding preparations would include the perk of mice squeaking in his ear—but he here is, in the tailor’s studio, getting re-fitted for his tuxedo, with Princess Cinderella’s team of seamstress mice on his shoulders, measuring the length of his arms. His muscles were too big for the previous suit.

Ven refuses to hire a proper tailor, and instead rents out the parlor so the mice could do their work in private.

Lea sits on a nearby bench by the shoe shelves, the top button of his shirt open, jabbing at his Gummiphone. He’s quite popular today, pinged every two minutes. Isa and Roxas share a mirror, trying to get the mechanics of their bow ties right.

Terra is getting married.

The thought. Married. Soon. Yes. Damn. He can’t cry right now.

Terra stands in front of a mirror and bends his elbows to see how the fabric moves. The mice are tiny, three of them in skirts. They’ve developed an efficient obstacle course of threads all down his entire body, a network so the mice on the floor can deliver them supplies—spools, sewing needles, thumbtacks, measuring tape—in a jiffy.

Lea groans, squeezing his Gummiphone. “This twerp is going to turn me into a serial killer.” He yawns, possibly for the fortieth time.

“Not an ill-fitting job, all things considered,” Isa says from across the room.

“I do appreciate your sarcasm.”

“Who’s bothering you?” Terra asks, lifting his collar so the mouse on his left could thread through it with a sewing needle.

Lea snorts, slaps his knee and leans forward. “Did you not know your buddy is a monster?”

“Ven?”

“Oh, he’s a joy.” Lea holds his Gummiphone up as if he’s about to make a speech. “Come help me pick out Aqua’s flowers. Now. If you could.” He glances at Terra, then back at the phone. “He writes that in all-caps.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t mean to be so pushy.”

“The other day, he called me to model the bride’s dress because Miss Aqua couldn’t be bothered to come to the fitting herself.”

“Master Aqua was away on a mission,” Isa explains.

“Isa took photos of me in it—” Lea scrolls through his phone, but stops. “Oh, I can’t show you before...” He clicks his tongue. “It’s very nice. Very bridal.”

Terra is sure that’s true, but the image of Ven hanging his head so much on someone else’s wedding is worrisome. Last night, he fell asleep at dinner. “I think Ven is taking on too much stress.”

“Lea,” Roxas says, snorting a chuckle and giving up on his bow tie, “you should show him the texts.”

“Gladly.” Lea stands to shove the Gummiphone into Terra’s face. Out of the history, a couple of messages stand out.

Ventus

I got 500 cake flavors come taste them with me

Ventus

Which cologne do you think terra should wear

COME SMELL

i need a second opinion

Ventus

Do you have aqua’s flowers yet?

remember

we want orange roses and bluestars

Ventus

Aqua isnt here im freaking out

Youre closest to her body type

HELP

After all that, Terra feels as though he’s being watched by several microscopic eyes. One of the mice squeaks with urgency, and he straightens one of his arms. “I don’t know what to say... Why doesn’t he talk to me directly?”

Lea purses his lips as though this is a secret not worth sharing. Roxas is the one to step forward, a knowing grimace plastered on his face.

“He told me that he doesn’t want to bother you with anything.”

That doesn’t sound entirely false but not true either.

“That’s ridiculous.” Terra tests the bend of the elbow to fiddle with his bow tie. It’s already done but something about it doesn’t sit right. “He could come to me for anything,” he says with a low voice, wondering if there’s something he’s missing. Terra has also been a mess. He’s getting married. Holy stars.

Isa huffs out of frustration, turning away from the mirror, his bow tie undone. He studies Terra’s suit. “I don’t like it.”

His straightforwardness is well appreciated. Aqua would probably smirk at the sight of it and stare at his neck the entire ceremony. “I don’t either,” Terra says.

“Smart man.” Isa smirks, and tugs Terra’s bow tie to undo it. “Let’s change it.”

Lea snorts. “You might want to ask permission from he-who-shall-be-slapped.”

“It’s my wedding,” Terra says.

“So you think.”

He-who-may-be-slapped enters the tailor’s parlor through the front entrance, announced by the bell of the ring. He’s perfectly dressed in his ringbearer’s/best man’s/maid of honor’s suit, vest fitted, bow tie sublime, sleeves coiffed. He sees what Isa is doing. He gapes.

“Hey guys,” Ven asks with a frustratingly shaky voice. “What are we doing?”

“They are unbecoming,” Isa answers, wrapping a traditional tie around Terra’s neck.

“Oh.”

Sometimes, speaking to Isa is like getting clocked in the stomach. By the looks of Lea’s expression, chewing on the edge of his Gummiphone, it’s well deserved.

“Okay,” Ven says, with a tight smile. He takes the tie from Isa’s hands. “Do they match?”

“A hello would be less rude,” Terra says. “Hi, Ven. Can we talk?”

Ven glances up. “Later. There’s lots to do.”

Lea inhales sharply. “Hey, Ven. Here’s an idea. Did you know you could tame cicadas to sing in harmony on command?”

Ven whips his head around. “You can?”

Isa brings a hand up to hide a smirk and Lea passes him a subtle wink.

“Picture it.” Lea opens his arms. “From nine until eleven at night, they gather in the bushes. They mutter, a light dusting of atmosphere on a peaceful summer night.”

Ven’s eyes grow wide with obsession.

Roxas comes near. “You can also make them glow.”

“Like stars in the bushes,” Ven whispers to himself.

“Come on, guys,” Terra says, unimpressed. “Leave him alone. We’ve got better things to do.”

Ven snaps himself out of it, but not before pulling out a notepad and writing notes. He eyes Terra over, nudging him to open his arms and pinching the sides of the suit. Ven draws them in by the measure of a finger and pulls pins out of his pocket, like he’s been expecting to use them, and marks their places. “Jaq Jaq,” he calls, ��where’s Suzy? We need to make sure these ties look right. Oh, and we need two extras—we have to ship some to Riku and Sora.”

Some mouse squeaks in reply.

“I can help her carry things.” Ven gives a flash of a smile and then hurries off.

Out of earshot, Lea gives Terra a look. “Anyone able to talk to mice is a crazy person in my book.”

Terra glares back and quotes, “‘You could tame cicadas to sing on command?’”

“He needs something to obsess over. How else am I going to get peace?”

“This is going to bite you in the ass,” Roxas says, wrapping his new tie over the neck and having a much easier time.

“Ventus may very well task you with hunting and gathering the cicadas,” Isa says, a tie already in place, immaculate.

Lea groans and Terra feels it’s well deserved.

Well deserved… the suit may be. The future wife, maybe not. The suit is a glove for every finger with no excess. It makes him a good-looking groom, a nice addition to the closet for any special occasion. The bride is beautiful, no matter what she wears. She is loyal, patient, strong, intelligent, loving, funny when she’s stern, too good for him, a divine gift he didn’t earn and he still can’t understand how she said yes.

“I hope you’re laughing at the face of my misery,” Lea says.

Terra knows that’s sarcasm. Weddings are headaches, emotions are terrifying and Terra needs Aqua like a sip of medicinal tea to calm down.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The others squeal when they walk into Le Grand Bistro. It’s sunset, the city lights already ignited and giving it the glow of evening fairies welcoming the moon. They’ve just discussed dresses—Xion requests a pantsuit instead, which looks stellar—and they can choose their own styles so long as they all wear the color of night. Simple, elegant. That’s the kind of effect Aqua prefers. Thank goodness they’re almost done. Aqua couldn’t handle more hands in her hair and she rejected the flower crown that would have come down on one side to compensate for the lack of length.

She fiddles with the ring—a thin, intricate design weaved around a small, blue stone—as a waiter escorts them to the kitchen. On days when she doesn’t have missions, she wears it.

Aqua is getting married. Some part of her wonders about the surreality of it, like it’s a dream or a picture she created in her mind when she was a child, at the altar with a faceless person next to her. Sometimes, it feels like she is already married. Terra has always been with her. Every day in class. Every day strolling through the woods. Every day sparring, sharing meals, bickering and laughing. Her best friend, her confidant, her rock.

There is something about nearly dying that challenges perspective. When they both thought they’d never see each other again, it made them realize there’s more to it and there’s been more to it for years. The emotional intimacy that strengthened after the fact. The physicality of it, when he takes her to bed. They argue differently, they laugh the same. Terra has always been with her, so what is the difference between being with him and being married to him? A part of her is eager to find out. The other is already at peace, a kind of joy Aqua has always wanted.

Ven is in the kitchen, talking with Remy (responding to Remy, who is naturally unintelligible). Plates of cake pieces sprawl out on the table, eliciting oohs and aahs from the others, all patient like they’re waiting for Aqua’s permission to take a small bite.

Aqua reads through the description of flavors—strawberry, fudge, angel food cake with blueberries, red velvet, even coffee. “The one we requested isn’t here.”

“You mean…” Ven pulls out his notepad and looks through his notes. Remy climbs onto Ven’s head, squeaking and pointing to a bowl of flour and eggs, unmixed. “Dark chocolate and rum?”

“That would be correct.”

“A spicy cake? Are you insane?” At his shock and at Aqua’s denial, Kairi helps herself to a spoonful of vanilla. “This is a wedding, not a club!”

“My wedding, Ven.” Aqua isn’t annoyed, but amused. Ven has such strong opinions about for some reason.

“Try this one.” He holds up a plate of a decorated piece that honestly looks delicious. “Triple chocolate, with the rarest berries found in the woods, matured at thirty-five degrees Celsius for a week.”

“Burnt cake?” Kairi asks with a smirk.

“Not the cake, the berries.”

“Oh,” Xion gasps, with need in her eyes. It takes a nod from Aqua to grab a fork and have at it. She approaches each piece with so much excitement— Aqua wonders if there are flavors here she’s never tried before in her short life.

“What will the final cake look like?” Naminé asks, the only one not to dive forward. She’s so gentle, so serene. When they were trying out dresses, everyone was saying what a beautiful bride she’ll be one day if she chooses.

“Perfect,” Ven says, like it’s the most obvious thing. “It has to be perfect so it will look beautiful. Painted like a night sky, with stars everywhere. You got that, Remy?”

Remy glares at Ven.

“I want,” Aqua starts, and when Ven frowns, she smirks. Sometimes, for the sake of maintaining control, she has to play dirty. “Rosewater and cardamom.”

Ven sticks his tongue out in disgust.

“Terra needs something to enjoy,” Aqua insists. “These are all too sweet for him.”

“Terra is the bane of my existence.”

“By the way, I don’t know if I want King Mickey and Queen Minnie to officiate.”

“You are way more difficult to deal with.”

Aqua and Ven have a staring contest as the others talk about their favorite flavors. Ven, a glare, a challenge to outwit her. Aqua, a calm knowing that she’s going to win. Ven relents.

“Fine,” he stresses. “Remy, change of plans. We’ll need some damage control. Let’s add some”—he writes into his notepad—“fruit pastries, sweet cheese with chocolate—”

“Triple chocolate,” Kairi adds.

“Custard and kiwi,” Xion says.

“All good choices.” Ven writes them down.

“Sea salt ice cream?” Naminé says, lifting a shoulder. “Everyone else eats them, I hope to try some.”

“Ven.” Kairi slams a hand on the table. “You need to add marshmallows covered in hazelnut and chocolate.”

“We need all the chocolate,” Ven agrees. “Call it revenge on this nasty cake.”

Kairi cackles, but it’s nothing malicious. They’re young and excited about the wedding, their suggestions a way of helping. Aqua takes it all in stride. The small details don’t matter, only the intent, and letting friends have fun deciding makes the entire process easier. What’s bothering her is Ven. He’s exhausted from taking it all too seriously. Aqua assumes the best intentions, but she doesn’t get it.

“You know what would be really cute?” Xion says. “Little petit fours shaped in your symbols.”

Ven blinks. “What symbols?”

“Oh, the Keyblade Master symbols.” Naminé claps her hands. “That would be so lovely.”

“In different colors,” Xion says.

“Each a different flavor,” Naminé adds. “Maybe the same colors as your Wayfinders?”

“You two are geniuses.” Ven taps his notepad. “Remy, we gotta get to work.”

Remy stomps a paw and squeaks vigorously.

“No worries. You’ll get paid.” Though it seems that’s the last thing on Remy’s mind.

“Ven,” Aqua says softly, pulling him aside as the others brainstorm ideas. “I don’t think we can afford all this.”

“Sure you can,” he says too confidently, though she and Terra were the ones to save up their munny. “Don’t worry,” he stresses when she’s not convinced, giving her a squeeze on the arm. “You asked me to bookkeep your finances”

“Reminder that I did not ask you to take full responsibility. Remy can’t do all of this alone, he’s going to need you.”

“I’ve got plenty of time, and we’ve got plenty of budget.”

Aqua does not know how that is possible. After the dresses, the refitting of Terra’s tux, the decorations… sure, since they’re using the ballroom in the Land of Departure, they saved on not having to rent out a venue, but the original plan was to have a small, intimate wedding in the woods, something private with just the three of them, minimal decorations necessary, all plucked from nature.

All of this is out of their price range.

Ven goes back to the table, back to the stovetop and oven where he follows Remy’s instructions and mixes the flour in the bowl with some milk. He doesn’t assuage her at all, like he knows something she doesn’t.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Home should be a solace but not when it’s the wedding rehearsal.

Ven has ushered in movers from different worlds to carry in artifacts, all decorations, all star-themed. Terra has yet to see the ballroom, but the amount of people rushing through the hallways makes him nervous.

Ever since Terra called Riku in the dead of night (in a panic, needing someone to talk to, alone in the kitchen with a cracked mug of tea), blabbing about tripping on the way to the altar, or cutting the cake clean through the table, or stepping on linen and ripping the curtains, or dropping his plate of food, or looking like an idiot on the dance floor, or worse—forgetting his vows—he hasn’t lived a moment of peace. Sora won’t let him.

Terra finds it hard to breathe. What if he chokes on his vows and accidentally offends everyone?

He stays far away from the workers—it’s for the best. No one needs a huge bull stampeding in a china shop, destroying everything.

Lea crosses the hallway on his sixth trip and enters one of two entrances to the ballroom, vases of flowers in his hands. Terra peeks. From the looks of it, Ven did a fantastic job.

The ballroom, once gold, now looks like the set of night. The ceiling is covered in blue with twinkling lights. The table linens are also dark, with napkins and silverware sets a solid gold. Glass windows that take up one entire side to the ballroom are bare of curtains—the wedding is planned for after sunset so they’d be declaring their vows under the stars. Two navy blue carpets come in through both entrances of the ballroom, meeting in the middle and then straight to the altar at the far end. The point is for him and Aqua to enter together, like equals. With her in a bridal dress, she’ll look like a light in the darkness.

Through the doorway, Terra can see Riku and Sora, the latter making motions with his arms as if he’s flapping like a bird. Terra lets the door close so they don’t notice him.

There are fears he’s never voiced.

What if she realizes she doesn’t want to get married to him after all? At the altar no less?

Oh stars, what if he makes a terrible husband?

What if he neglects her?

What if, years down the road, she realizes after a slowly oncoming epiphany that she isn’t happy and regrets it?

Tonight is the party, tomorrow is the wedding, and Terra still has no vows. He pinches his nose hard enough to distract him from crying. He’s already cried five times in the arc of three hours.

Footsteps—light, brisque, confident, hers—approach him, and Terra embraces her in his arms, taking her in with a needy kiss. She smells like home, she lets him breathe again.

“You look like you’re about to fall apart,” she says, stroking a thumb on his cheek.

“Not if you’re my glue.”

She snorts, smacking him on the bicep. “What did I say about the puns?”

“Shower you with them.”

He kisses her before she can roll her eyes—

—and gets interrupted the moment Ven peeks out of one door.

“What’s with the hold-up?” he says.

Terra breaks from the kiss, casually noticing how Aqua is patting his shoulder, as if to warn him. “What’s with your attitude?”

Ven pouts like he’s about to choke and slaps the notepad to his forehead. “No one listens to me. I said baby blue and champagne on the napkins, all shaped to form the constellation of Juno… and they gave me yellow. I am gonna complain so much.”

“There are worse things?” Terra says and Aqua shakes his shoulder as another warning.

Ven snaps his eyes open. “Get into position, we’re starting.”

Aqua stands behind one door and Terra goes to the other, waiting for the cue to enter. On the other side, Ven is speaking out loud, organizing people and where they should stand. Grooms and bridesmaids will enter the altar from behind and gather together, leaving the carpet only for the star couple (no pun intended). He interrupts himself, raising his voice about vases that match too much and Terra can imagine him pointing across the room.

“I have to tell you something,” Aqua loudly whispers from the other side of the hall.

Terra runs to her and wraps an arm around her waist. Touching her is a panacea. Despite knowing there is still a possibility she’ll rethink this entire relationship, it seems unreal, like a nightmare.

“It’s about Ven,” she continues, keeping her voice low even though they’re the only ones in the hall.

“Lea threatened to slap him.”

She frowns.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Don’t you think it’s too expensive?”

“I don’t know. Ven doesn’t tell me how much anything costs.”

“It’s way more than we have saved up.”

Terra gapes. “Then how—?”

Aqua stammers, fiddling with her fingers. “I looked into his books.”

Terra melts into a breath-heavy laugh, careful to keep his voice out of it. “Reading people’s diaries? Aqua, I thought I knew you better.”

She blushes. “I didn’t mean to, but I was worried.” Now Terra is worried. Her expression is too serious. “Ven has been doing side-missions and hustles for months just to earn enough to hire the best chefs and tailors, to buy linens and all these flowers and carpets—”

“He wouldn’t.”

“He did.”

“Why?”

“I think it’s because he wants us to be happy.”

“We are.” Terra doesn’t appreciate how he doesn’t sound confident, scared he’s assuming too much on her behalf. “How could he just…”

“We were stuck in darkness for so long and he couldn’t help us.”

“But that’s not his fault.”

“He feels he is the weakest and wants to compensate.” Aqua grimaces and she blinks back tears.

“I feel so guilty.”

“I feel worse.”

“Why?”

Aqua bites her lip. “I’m still attached to the idea of a small, intimate ceremony in the woods. Just the three of us. Does that make me a horrible person?”

“No. Our wedding has become a spectacle. Maybe pointing that out makes me terrible, too.”

She groans. “I found a book. I left it in your room. It’s very last minute, but there are some ancient rituals in there that I found so beautiful… the exchanging of rings is beautiful, too, but modern and there are some lost traditions from our Keyblade history that I’d love to do instead... if you could take a look?”

The way she smiles, stars. Ancient, modern, he’d do anything for her. “Sure. I’ll read it tonight.”

Aqua winces. “He’ll be so angry with us.”

Terra squeezes her hand. “He wants us to be happy. Think about that.”

One of the doors burst open, and Lea sticks his head out. “Kindly stop being an ass and don’t keep your guests waiting anymore?”

They start: Terra at one entrance, Aqua on the other, entering the ballroom at the same time, where guests will watch them approach one another, like the shadow of the moon to a star. They meet at the point where their lanes merge into one.

Terra offers his arm—

“Nonono,” Ven warns, running up to them. “You can’t meet her like this. You must bow at a forty-degree angle.” Ven scans the room frantically. “Here, I have a ruler.”

After that hiccup, Aqua finally takes Terra’s arm, walking down the single aisle, where guests can ogle at them. Their groomsmen and bridesmaids take pictures with their Gummiphones for their arrival at a wall of flowers.

Sora has his hands behind his head and snickers when they reach the end. “I made sure the carpet is ironed out so she doesn’t fall with you.”

“I’m going to kick you in the shins,” Terra says.

He snorts and wipes his nose. “I’ll kick you back.”

At the altar, Ven is too excited to stop rambling. “We have to make sure that you arrive here, at this spot, at exactly nine-thirty so we can finish the vows at ten because...” He frames the windows with his hands. “We’ve got a perfect spot for star sighting so we need to be on time.”

“Do you mean, right after the wedding ceremony?” Aqua asks.

“Before the reception, yup. We’re walking out to the balcony, we’ll watch the meteor shower where a new world will be born, then we’ll come back in for supper and dancing.” When he notices their stupefied faces, he continues, “I spent three weeks finding the right angulations so you can witness a unique astronomical event, and we’ve got a miracle of a spot right here so we can’t be late.”

“It’s a wonderful thought, Ven,” Aqua says, her voice shaky.

“Okay, now you get into position and face each other.” He points and they follow. “Next, Mickey and Minnie will talk some stuff, you know, all official, and then you say your vows.”

Terra freezes up. “Our vows.”

“Yeah. That’s what I said. You ready?”

Terra hesitates and Aqua speaks for him. “We’re keeping those a secret until tomorrow.”

Ven pauses, then shrugs. “Fair enough.”

Aqua doesn’t let Terra have another thought, leaning forward to kiss him in front of everyone (aahs and awws elicited), and ending the rehearsal.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“How do you get your skin so clear?” Kairi asks, though the warm glow of the fire makes for spectacular lighting.

They’re camping in the woods near the waterfall, equipped with warm blankets and pillows, a bowl of cookies, and toasted marshmallows on sticks; Aqua’s vision of a bachelorette party. No gifts necessary.

“Mountain spring water does wonders for you,” Aqua says.

“I’ve read in a magazine,” Xion says, crawling out of her sleeping bag, “that some people like to put mud on their faces to get clean skin.”

“Why?” Naminé asks, chewing on a marshmallow.

“Something about the properties. Lots of good minerals.” She walks over to the creek, digging her hands into the dirt and smashing it into her face against the shocks and cries of the other girls. “If mountain water is good for you, then that must mean this mud is magical.”

“Is that true?” Kairi says, though she’s asking no one. She hurries over and joins in on the mud-mashing, running fingers over Xion’s face in places she’s missed.

With globs of mud in their hands, they bring over the excess to the camp.

Xion offers it to Aqua. “For beautiful skin on your special day?”

“It’s our job to pamper,” Kairi says with her hands out so that Naminé can scoop up the mud on her own.

Aqua tries not to chuckle too loudly. It’s adorable. “Okay,” she says, and Xion gets to work, massaging it into her skin. It smells unpleasant, earthy and mukky. She closes her eyes and tries to relax regardless.

“I think we’re supposed to keep it on our faces for at least a half hour,” Xion says, rubbing more on Aqua’s nose.

“This will make us prettier?” Naminé asks.

“Cleaner,” Kairi says.

Naminé blinks, already covered in the mud and hesitating to put on more. “But we look dirty,” she says quietly.

“Can I request something, Miss Aqua?” Xion says, patting her fingers onto Aqua’s forehead.

“Certainly.”

“Can you tell us the story of how Terra proposed?”

Kairi jumps and squeals, and Naminé claps her hands, both of them chattering please, please, we’re dying to know.

“We’re around a fire,” Kairi says, as if that’s a convincing argument. “We’re supposed to tell stories.”

“I feel bad for asking,” Naminé says. “You’re very private, and I don’t want to intrude…”

Aqua reads her face. “But you’re curious.”

Naminé pouts. Xion’s eyes go wide, and Kairi nods excitedly. Everyone is guilty as charged.

“It’s a simple story, I guess,” Aqua says, crossing her legs and watching the fire. It’s not often that she talks so openly about the details of her relationship. The two of them together is something people know, but never knowing where they come from and why, except for Ven—even then, there’s so much he never pries to. Watching their reactions is a little overwhelming. She rubs the stone on her ring. “Terra made the engagement ring with his own hands, but he took months to propose.”

“I remember that,” Xion says, sitting on her chair and smiling. “It annoyed Lea so much that he offered to set you both up just to get it over with.”

Aqua laughs. “I’m grateful we had it to ourselves.”

“Was it romantic?” Kairi asks.

“Not at all. I… knew he was up to something. I know him.” She lifts a shoulder. “He was burning breakfast too often, he couldn’t look me directly in the eye, and he left on his own to do more missions than usual. I took that as though he had done something wrong. The last time he was that clumsy and avoidant, it was because he accidentally cast Firaga in the library and was trying to hide it. Or when he broke the oven. Or when he offered to do my laundry but didn’t know how to treat my fabric and ruined my clothes.”

“He sounds like a clumsy oaf,” Kairi says.

That makes Aqua smile. She loves that oaf. “He is. The general rule of thumb is that a clumsy, avoidant Terra is usually hiding something.”

“So how did the proposal happen?” Naminé asks.

“I cornered him—”

Kairi snorts.

“—and he blurted it out.”

They giggle, Kairi acting out how that may have looked and Naminé holding her hands over her heart in a show of genuine affection.

Aqua smiles to herself, a finger to her lips. It might be her favorite memory, her standing her ground and demanding to know what was going on.

Terra, looking all around the terrace except for her face, guilty, guilty, guilty, pulling a box out of his pocket and stammering for a cohesive sentence. Well, I don’t know what to say, he had said, like a child getting grounded. I-I’m sorry. I’m dumb, I’m a big lump of a human being. He paused, his cheeks rounding up like he was about to vomit. Will…will you marry me, anyway?

It felt like racing in a train and pulling all the stops, crashing. He got red in the face, tears welling in his eyes and she realized he took her silence as rejection. Aqua had to hold his forearms, and all she could utter was a soft, I genuinely thought you burned down a building.

Terra’s eyes went wide. Do you mean you’re not mad?

Of course not. Why would I be?

So… He licked his lips, reaching for her but not touching her, forgetting that he had the box with the ring inside. What do you say? I mean, you don’t have to give me an answer straight away. I mean, I just thought you would… you know… because… He sighed. Yeah.

Aqua finally laughed, and kissed him on the cheek. Of course I will marry you, you beautiful dork.

The laughter quiets around the fire. They’re waiting for Aqua to continue her story.

“Then he drops the ring.”

They howl, melting into a blissful exchange of cheers and gossip, a vibrant hearth brighter than the one keeping them warm.

“I had hoped to propose first, actually,” Aqua continues. She shrugs. “The end.”

“That was beautiful,” Naminé says, wiping her eyes.

“If Sora hears about this, he’ll never leave Terra alone,” Kairi says, grinning something mischievous.

“I don’t know what love is supposed to look like,” Xion says thoughtfully, gazing at the sky. “But it sounds sweet.”

In Aqua’s opinion, the proposal was perfect, him scattered on the ground frantically searching for the ring, her on her knees helping him. How he slipped it on her finger, how they kissed for an hour in the dirt, unaware that they were dusty, unaware that anyone else existed in the world.

Aqua nods, mostly to herself. It aches to be away from Terra tonight but it burns her insides to see him tomorrow and finally do this. Aqua wants to sleep and get this night over with but she doesn’t want to sleep so she could see the sunrise, knowing he’d be up early watching the same thing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bachelor parties aren’t fun.

Sora is whooping about a cannonball, the water splashing when he makes contact. Ven and Roxas race to the lake, testing who will be the first to dive, the first to swim across and come back. Considering the expanse of the surface area, they’ll be gone for a while and the barbecue will get cold, but maybe it’s for the best. It’s not the right time to talk to Ven right now, not when all of them have a moment of fun (except for Terra, the only one here thinking about tomorrow). Lea and Isa prefer to relax, sipping drinks on their chairs by the lanterns erected onto the sand, speaking quietly about memories, about chores, about home and what ifs.

Terra sits by himself, the thin booklet Aqua gave him on his lap, tucked under layers of parchment. It’s titled The Way, no author. She was right: old Keyblade rituals are interesting, almost possessive, their focus on the literal binding of hearts. They’re from the Age of Fairytales, and Terra realizes as he reads through it that ancient Keyblade wielders were for some reason obsessed with the loss of memory and the prevention of it. The rituals sound painful, too—maybe Aqua has developed a mild taste of macabre from her time in the Realm of Darkness.

All Terra has left to do are his vows. His stupid, dorky-sounding vows. He should have accepted the simple, “I do.” He shouldn’t have waited until the last minute.

He’s tried dramatic.

You are my other half, my heart, my breath of life, my sky, my angel, can we keep our souls together?

He’s tried poetic.

The mountain will thirst if not for the water—

He’s tried being honest.

I don’t know why you love me, but I’ll do my best to make it up to you.

All dumb.

Terra groans into his hands, eyes wide in existential blunder.

“Keep doing that,” Riku says, setting a chair next to him and sitting down, “and you won’t be able to blink again.”

“I’m not finished.”

“But if you don’t sleep, then you’re more likely to have accidents.”

Terra gapes and almost whacks Riku on the side of the head from the sight of his constricted smirk. “You’re so mean. I called you one time.”

“In a huge panic talking about causing mass destruction of a wedding the worlds have never seen.” Riku shrugs nonchalantly. That’s his state of being—too cool for anything, too sensitive for everything. It’s refreshing. “It was the funniest phone conversation I’ve ever had.”

“I’ll never call you again.”

“Not in the middle of the night, please no.” Riku bites a forkful of steak. “Is it cliché to tell you to speak from the heart?”

“This entire conversation is cliché, but here I am, living it out.” Terra stares at his messy pages, where he pressed the pen so hard that it left ink blots.

“You could do the very committal thing and tell her you love her fifty times.”

“All the guests would leave by the time I reach twenty-five.”

“More like fifteen.”

“Ten.”

“Disaster.”

Terra grimaces, not entirely comforted, but not entirely anxious anymore, either. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“It is a big deal, I’ll give you that,” Riku says, more serious. “I don’t have any advice.”

“None of it makes sense. Be honest, but not too honest. Be loving, but don’t make it cheesy. Express yourself, but hold back on certain things. Do make it personal. Don’t expose personal details. How am I supposed to know how to do it right?”

It would be easier if there are no witnesses. If it’s just Ven, if Aqua is the only person he’s talking to, if he could simply say, You’ve been my best friend for as long as I can remember. I know I’ve fucked up. For as long as I live, I’ll never do that again. I will never take your forgiveness for granted.

And if she doesn’t want to be with him anymore, there’d be nothing he could say to make her stay.

“I think if Aqua was the kind of person who expected you to do it right,” Riku says, looking out to the lake where Ven and Roxas are swimming back to their shore, “you wouldn’t be marrying her.”

Terra bends the pages, exposing the cover of the thin, leather bound booklet. There are no vows he could use in there, except for the officiator declaring their hearts intertwined. “Thank you,” he mumbles.

“Sorry I can’t be of more help.”

Riku pats him on the shoulder and leaves him alone to take a walk, Sora begging him to enter the water. Terra flips to a page where he’s repeated I love you, I love you all over, each in different calligraphy, like doodling, like losing his mind and procrastinating the night away, hoping that any moment, inspiration would drop bricks on him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It’s time.

The strangest part of the day is waiting it out in her bedroom until it’s her turn to show herself. Over the years, her bedroom has been a reflection of her personality. The cleanliness, the artifacts from her home world long ago, the size of the bed, the furniture—they all stayed the same. What’s come and gone were the paint colors, the bedsheets, the art on the wall, the smaller vanity mirror. Her bedroom is her old life, and she sits in front of the mirror in her bride’s dress, about to start a new one. For now, they both collide, as though her childhood doesn’t know her.

The cape dress is simple, plain white with the neck scooped across the collarbone. The sleeves slit at the shoulders, draping over to the floor with the rest of the train. Aqua couldn’t have asked for something better. She completes the look with the ring, a jeweled hair pin on one side, and an armored choker. Makeup is minimal.

Aqua is surprisingly calm and the sun is going down.

Her Gummiphone buzzes with a text message.

Terra

Let’s do it

Aqua sighs, not texting back immediately.

Aqua

I don’t want to break Ven’s heart

Terra

I’ll talk to him

We can both get what we want

I already stole some flowers from the wall

Don’t think he notices

She chuckles, moving a hair strand behind her ear. She hasn’t noticed that her stomach has been a knot, from excitement, from nerves, from anticipation. The sun takes so long to set. Terra is the warmth of a tight blanket.

Aqua

Will this label me as a runaway bride?

Terra takes a long time to answer, giving her the impression that he must have been distracted and forgot to reply.

It buzzes.

Terra

The shame

Aqua

What will they think when they find out the groom seduced her to it

Terra

The scandal

when they hear how she met him secretly at the creek

an hour before the ceremony

It sounds like an action plan. Aqua picks up her bouquet of orange roses and bluestars from her vanity table, heading out the door.

Aqua

I want Ven there

Terra

Definitely

I love you

Aqua

I love you too

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Terra finds Ven in the dining room, taking inventory of an indulgement of sweets and a feast of meats, fritters, and rice. The wedding cake is as tall as his body, a dark blue with smacks of gold glitter in the shapes of galaxies, large stars framing each layer, and topped with two halos. Ven is mostly dressed in his vest and tie, the suit missing. By comparison, Terra is overdressed, a groom ready for his encore.

Ven sighs when he sneaks a cookie the shape of the Keyblade Master symbol into his mouth, as though Terra’s presence reminds him of disappointment.

“I couldn’t tame the cicadas,” he says morosely, like he’s apologizing, and for a moment Terra second-guesses what he’s about to do. Ven eyes the white rope curled around Terra’s shoulder. “What’s that for?”

“This may either cheer you up or piss you off,” Terra says, dropping The Way on the counter.

“I don’t like how you said that.” As Ven flips through pages, he frowns, chewing on the side of his lip. “Are you... not happy with the wedding preparations?”

Terra inhales, caught off guard. “Of course I am. Happy, I mean. It’s… huge. It’s a giant ordeal.”

“And you don’t like that,” Ven says quietly, stroking one of the pages with his thumb.

“I think there are things we’ve always wanted to have privately.” Terra sits on a stool, but Ven won’t look him in the eye. “And we want you to be there. We can do it now. We’ll be back in time for our guests.”

The booklet shakes in his hands. “I messed up.”

“From my point of view, I’ll be eating very well tonight. There’s nothing to compensate for.”

Ven closes the book. “I just wanted to do a good job.”

“If you allow Lea to slap you, he’ll forgive you.” Terra smiles, but Ven doesn’t join him. “We’re still doing your grand ceremony—that, we could never pull off on our own. But we also want something tiny and ours, and we won’t do this without you.” Terra takes Ven’s hand and squeezes it, before glancing at the cake. “I hope it’s delicious.”

“It’s disgusting so you’ll definitely like it.”

“See, I can always count on you.” Terra stands up. “Now come on. You wouldn’t want us to be late for the bride.”

Terra takes him to the creek, not far from where Aqua hosted her bachelorette camp, where the sound of rushing water is gentle and the creek splits into two directions, one that would drip off the side of a cliff and one that would join a massive river downstream. The trees huddle close in the clearing, a soft shadow from the fierceness of the setting sun, like a pocket of protective magic in the middle of the forest.

Ven gasps. “You stole my flowers.”

“Please, you didn’t even notice.” Terra had built an easy wooden arbor before the crack of dawn that morning, an arch weaved with orange and blue flowers, spotted every so often with green lilies. He showered right after so no one would suspect.

“Let’s take it over there.” Ven points to a short boulder against a tree nearby, a good photo op. They pluck the arbor up from both sides and plant it in front of the boulder. Ven takes stock of the sight. “Not bad.”

“Thanks!”

“I take credit for the choice of flowers.” Ven rolls the rope into a tight circle, layering it on the boulder with each loop in equal circumference. He splays the book open and studies. “It’s kinda creepy,” he says though he gets no response and he doesn’t ask for one.

Terra shoves his hands into the pockets of his tuxedo and waits. Aqua isn’t here yet. The vest constricts his breathing, the thicket suddenly feels humid, and Terra wipes his cheek, realizing that his heart is beating fast. Time sped up to this moment and dropped him here without warning. Now it’s slowing down out of pure, unjustifiable spite to torture him in the final hour.

“You okay, dude?” Ven asks.

Terra lifts his face to the sky to keep the tears in his eyes. “If I cry now, I think I’ll cry for the rest of the night.”

Ven snorts. “No one would be surprised, trust me.”

But it’s not working. He’s two seconds from sobbing. “I don’t know. I…” He scoffs. “I can’t believe it’s happening. I’m expecting her to never show up or brush me off last minute when she realizes what we’re doing—”

“No.” Ven approaches Terra like he’s about to punch him in the stomach to make a point. “Don’t think like that, she’d never do that.”

Ven has good faith and better timing. Aqua approaches the other side of the clearing, the fabric of her dress gracefully making waves with every step, the foliage fluttering light and shadow on her figure. She holds her bouquet in one hand and a framed photograph tucked under the other.

It shocks Terra.

He can’t stop the flow of tears. He covers his shivering lips and the drip of his nose, his face twisting from the sight of her—brilliant, like she’s made of stars, a gift walking the earth.

“Terra, are you okay?” Aqua asks, rushing to him now, the train of her dress bouncing behind her.

In the flash of an instinct, Terra runs to meet her, tripping over a branch and landing right into her arms.

“You’re—” Terra sucks air in, his heart shoving itself up his esophagus. “Y-you’re s-so beautiful.”

Aqua uses her pinky to wipe his tears. “So are you.”

“Let me help you.” He takes the frame—a portrait of the Master, bordered with a white ribbon—and walks her to the arbor. Ven takes the portrait and places it on the boulder, their little family tied together, fractured in glued pieces, now and always. Before they start, Terra asks Aqua to pose under the arbor so he can take a picture of the trees and the flowers surrounding her. Beautiful.

“How do we do this?” Terra asks when he finds his voice again, still trembling. Aqua stands to the side to take her place. She’s beautiful.

Ven takes the book in his hands. The description of this ritual covers at most two pages. “Well, it’s archaic. It’s from the Age of Fairytales but it sounds like we will intertwine your hearts—but in an intense way, like we’re sewing them together.”

Aqua holds her bouquet to her chest. “Shall we start?”

Terra chuckles too hard, gasping for breath. “Simple as that.”

They wait for Ven’s cue, who also has no idea how to do anything. Ven clears his throat, shrugs his shoulders, and reads:

“We witness today the soldering of two hearts. To intertwine like the roots of a tree, the severance painful, the nourishment plentiful. A physical bond, a magical one, the merging of two sprites under the guidance of one truth. Two hearts, but one.” Terra watches the way Aqua watches him. There’s no one else in the world, Ven’s voice disconnected, like it floats on air. “Now it says to summon your Keyblades. Dig the tips into the ground, and offer your hilts to each other.”

Ends of the Earth is massive, taller than Ven. Stormfall looks delicate but it’s menacing, sharp, direct. They offer their hilts, the shafts crossed over each other, Stormfall light and airy in his hand, Ends of the Earth weighty and thick in hers.

Terra finds it interesting that they’re using the hilt to connect each other’s hearts—the Keyblade should never be used against a person’s heart in traditional Mastery, because it’s such a dangerous weapon and it’s so violating. The blunt hilt, on the other hand, the physical manifestation of their hearts, is like exposure, an offer of vulnerability.

Aqua’s feels like it’s thrumming, singing. She’s happy.

Ven steps forward with the rope and ties it over the hilts in loops. “This is just an image, the ties that bind, two Keyblades, but one. To intertwine a heart is to forge a chain, a friend, a companion, a memory. If missing then a void, a dream, a wish until reunion.” He steps back into position. “Before we go on, I think this would be a nice place to say your vows. Terra, you first.”

Terra stammers, looking into her eyes. “I-I couldn’t write one. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Ven whispers, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket. “I wrote some just in case.”

Terra doesn’t take it. He licks his lips. “It wouldn’t have been graceful. None of it—all of my thoughts—pale in comparison to you, Aqua.” He steadies himself with labored breathing, the squeeze on her Keyblade like a hold on her waist. “You’re so, so beautiful, and I’ve spent my days believing I don’t deserve you, because… because I couldn’t make things right like I should have.”

Aqua quivers, gently touching his arm with her free hand and motioning for him to breathe.

He continues, “I’m sorry. I wish the Master was here. I wish I was smart enough to prevent it from happening.” He inhales, choking up from the mention of Eraqus. “I never thought you would marry me of all people, so… I promise... I will be there every step of the way. I promise you, if you’re scared at night, I’ll be there to protect you. If you’re hurting in another world, I’ll come find you. If you’re confused, I’ll hold you close and help you make sense of it. I’ll brew you tea to help you sleep, I’ll step in the line of fire even if you wish to do the same for me, I’ll walk to the ends of the earth to make sure you are safe and healthy. I promise I’ll be with you.

“And I’ll mess up. I know me. I’ll fix it. If you want to clobber me, I’ll be patient. I’ll learn. I’ll do better. Every day you save me from myself. This is the least I can do. I’ve loved you since I was a kid. I’ll love you every day.”

Silence falls on all of them, Terra sniffing just to get some fresh air, Ven wiping his eyes, Aqua blinking too much.

“Now you, Aqua,” Ven says.

Despite being teared up, Aqua holds it together. She’s so good at that.

“Terra, I stand with you because I do want to be here. I do want to be by your side. I do want to laugh at your bad jokes.” She relieves a giggle. “I love you. I have for as long as I can remember, even if I didn’t know the words for it.” She studies his face. “I’m sure the Master is here with us, and he couldn’t be prouder of you. I’m proud of you.” Suddenly, she switches her tone, as if to lecture. “And if you even fathom taking a hit for me, remember that I’m faster than you. I’ll protect you first.” Then she softens. “I promise to be your shelter when the storm falls on us. I promise to sit on your bedside when you’re sick, to lift you up when you’re down about yourself, because you are sometimes.

“You are my home, no matter how far your heart is from me. If you need a star to light your way back, I’ll give it to you.” She smiles widely, like she’s about to laugh. “If something between us breaks, I’ll mend it with you. I can’t imagine my life any other way.”

Their words are now spoken. Aqua suppresses a laugh and grins like a child. Terra holds his breath, just in case he screams from every emotion that he can’t name.

“Well,” Ven says, rolling his sleeve up so he could wipe his nose on his forearm. “I guess it’s time. This bond is an oath you will remember each other until you close your eyes for the last time, for the tragedy to forget is to be alone forever. Do you accept this?”

“I do,” Terra says.

Aqua hums. “Yes, I do.”

Ven smiles. “You know what to do.”

With his free hand, Terra presses two fingers to his chest, over his heart, where he builds a golden glow. Twenty years living with her, ten years in darkness thinking about her, this vow is impossible to break—even if they can’t do this any longer, Terra could never forget her. Never. In his hand is now a piece of himself, a nugget of his heart, a memory of her in his bed that he never wants to lose.

He takes those fingers to her chest, two thick golden threads drawn out from his heart. She winces at the touch, quick to dissolve. Stormfall shifts in his hand, growing longer, its hilt thicker and darker, wrapping around like a weaved shield. A subtle change, a little piece of him.

Aqua does the same, fingers to her chest first to create the threads, bringing them to his chest. It does hurt, like a needle digging into his skin, sharp for the entire length until it’s suddenly gone.

He feels full, as though his insides are creating space for something extra. Warm, frightening, whole, exciting. Her piece is a memory he can’t read but he doesn’t need to. Ends of the Earth opens way for an icy blade to cut through the middle as the hilt fans out like wings. A piece of her to take with him where he goes.

“Alright,” Ven chirps, snapping the booklet closed. “The book ends with the quote, Two hearts, only one, but I think this means I can call you husband and wife in secret. So kiss.”

Their Keyblades dissipate when they hold each other, tender but with appetite, unaware of their surroundings for several selfish moments. With sewn threads, it’s as though he breathes through her. Terra presses her onto him, feeling how her heart now beats in sync with his.

“I love you,” she whispers. They are married.

He’ll never tire of hearing it. Stars, they are married. “I love you, too.”

Terra hears Ven sniff before a handkerchief is shoved into his face. “You need your face dry and clean before everyone sees you,” Ven says.

The sunset now is deep, a fiery orange. Terra doesn’t want to let go.

“I’ll hold you again tonight,” Aqua says, patting his chest. “I want to see the meteor shower Ven promised.”

“It’ll be a good one,” Ven assures.

Terra kisses her. “Then we have to make a run for it.” He picks Ven up like a log, jogging through the thicket of the forest with Aqua close behind him, the Master in her arms. When they approach the castle, in the twilight, they hear chatter coming from the halls, as though ghosts are partying outside.

Terra feels at peace despite that he now has to perform, balancing on a tightrope where he doesn’t care if he falls. He turns around and holds her neck to kiss her again, feeling her laughter in his mouth. “One more?” he asks when they break.

Ven, still tucked in Terra’s arm, groans. “I never asked for a front seat to the kissing show. Is this my punishment?”

Aqua kisses him one more time, whispering to him I love you for what will be a string of I love you’s in the night to come. Friends will cheer, Terra will trip on the way to the altar, Sora will cry because Terra will cry, Xion will eat too much cake and get sick, Isa will laugh because he is drunk, Kairi will be the star of the dance, Aqua will be the star in his eyes.

#terraqua #terra #aqua #ventus #terraqua week #kingdom hearts fanfiction #omg #this is finally out holy shiiiiiiiiit #i'm really proud of this one #reading through for edits #i impressed myself haha #my fic

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5lazarus · 3 years

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Masterlist of My Stories

My Writing

Every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday, I post a snippet of what I'm currently working on.

On Mondays, I post the last lines of the stories I'm finishing up, as well as lessons learned from the previous week. I post this under the tag #last line monday and #lessons from the week.

On Wednesdays, I throw up a snippet of fanfiction. I post this under the tag #wip wednesday.

On Fridays, I write at least seven lines of my own stories, either poetry, essays, or fiction. I post this under the tag #seven line friday.

On Sundays, I post at least six lines of fanfic. I post this under the tag #six sentence sunday.

For more information about me, check out my About Me page. I don't answer personal questions unless I share an asklist, I don't take prompts unless I share a promptlist, and I don't keep anonymous asks on. I've also made two promptlists--one a writing challenge, the other a list of poetry prompts! Find my work archived and updated under hes5thlazarus on Archive of Our Own.

Below is a catalogue of my stories, broken down by fandom (Dragon Age, Harry Potter, Star Trek):

My Dragon Age Stories

There Is No Ithaca Three moments where Solas loses his home: Solas wrecks his revolution on the altar of Mythal. Solas returns from war to find Ghilan’nain incubating the Blight within their own home. Fen'Harel negotiates the end of the world with the Thaig of the Bastion of the Pure. Answers to various asks from brightoncemore's wonderful promptlist.

Ultramarine Sylaise attempts to trademark the color blue, initiating a civil war. Fen'Harel disapproves. Felassan, at this point, is just along for the ride. Highlights include: Andruil attempts to create biological weapons out of the conquered children of the stone and sell them to absolutely everyone, Mythal may or may not involve, Solas greatly disapproves, and everyone wants to kill Fen'Harel for disapproving. Also an explanation as to why Solas has to think before answering Sera on whether he has ever pissed magic by accident. Sorta a love story, sorta a comedy, sorta a story about political intrigue--but hey, Solas said Arlathan was even worse than Orlais! A big thank you to potatowitch and isomede for talking me through this and getting me to finish it--and for giving me the best ideas for it.

Overheard at the Hanged Man Thirty-one stories written in Nightmare-mode for Beyond the Veil's 2020 Artober Challenge, ranging through the entire series, from Arlathan before the Blight to the Chargers in Serault.

Alistair the Accidental Heretic Alistair gets bored during morning prayer and starts changing the words of the Chant as he sings. Mother Prudence and Knight-Commander Greagoir are less than pleased, and soon he finds himself tripping up over accidental heresy even within the kitchens of Kinloch Hold. It's not easy, being a half-elf templar with a conscience, because even having a sense of humor is heresy.

The Starkhaven Crier A portrait of two future apostates at ten-year-olds: Jowan and Surana are bored, get dragged to the Chantry for the good of their souls, and accidentally make the new girl from Starkhaven cry. Featuring Surana determined to be the one Dalish against letting the Maker come back, the self-hating mage in the Surana/Amell origin as the Starkhaven Crier, and the same Mother Prudence who sent Alistair to bed without supper. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me.

Morrigan at the Crossroads Morrigan reaches her breaking point, confronted with the one person she cannot flee: her six-week-old son, who cannot be soothed back to sleep, struggling in the Crossroads. From a prompt musettta3 sent me.

Shartan's Riddle Surana talks Mahariel through writing Leliana, after Leliana leaves to work for the Divine. Shartan promised them a home, and Mahariel worries Leliana, devout as she is, cannot give it to her. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me.

Winter in Amaranthine The Wardens' companions decide to leave, and Warden-Commander Arana Mahariel cannot find a reason good enough to tell them no. Meanwhile, letters between the Warden and Leliana get lost in translation, and Arana makes it worse. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me.

Palimpsest Velanna and Sigrun fight some darkspawn, talk around the past, and write some letters. Written as a gift for hellbell, for the Sapphic Solstice 2021 Gift Exchange.

Phosphorescence A Despair demon in the Foundry district is clogging up the whole city with a miasma of misery. Justice runs into an old friend of his, during Anders' first few weeks in Kirkwall, and the three set to work. Heavy-handed allegory abounds, but, Justine opines, that’s the Dreamers’ fault. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me.

Labyrinth "Anders made no attempt at escape during the years they were together." This story is meant to explore everything absolutely horrible about that statement. If the core part of Anders' identity is his refusal to submit to imprisonment, then perhaps listening to Karl was a violation of his sense of self. Things get better, and then things get worse.

Kirkwall Thunderstorm Family squabbling as the storm sets in, Hawke flees to face the thunderstorm head on, and laughs, because what's more to life than this, chasing a storm all the way down to the harbor? From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me. One of my favorite things I've written in 2020.

Debutante Leandra manages Hawke's debut ball, and surprises herself by having a lot of fun. From an OC ask I decided to turn into a prompt.

Dregs Anders baits Varric, or Varric baits Anders, both drunk at the Hanged Man. There's no resolution to an argument when they're both just angry, thinking about dead mages. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me. One of my favorite things I've written in 2020.

The Scent of Pomegranates Merrill brings a pomegranate to the Hanged Man, to try and capture some of the way her clan celebrated the new year. Fenris is oddly moved. Written for the DA Den's 2020 Holiday Gift Exchange.

Anders in Autumn Anders and Fenris, over the course of one gorgeous autumn in Kirkwall, find common ground, a common goal, and even tenderness, as the city grows cool and vibrant in the changing of the year. Justice returns to the streets of Kirkwall, one way or another, and it is as transformative and loving as justice truly is. An answer to an Artober challenge from cozy-autumn-prompts

Warp & Weft Anders wakes Fenris up in the middle of the night talking, and then not wanting to talk, about weaving. What they remember and what they have forgot climb into the bed with them. A gift for potatowitch.

Landlocked Merrill goes looking for Isabela after a night of drinking at the Hanged Man, and finds her considering the sun rising over the horizon at the docks. They're landlocked and the salt's drained them both dry, but maybe it's not all been a waste. They're shipless, not shipwrecked. Part of a personal challenge to write more femslash, after realizing how little there is in Dragon Age fandom.

Love and Red Ink Varric tries his hand at a more literary Bildungsroman about his youth as a Kirkwall bohemian. Bianca tears it apart, editing for his own good. Sometimes love is in the margins, your almost ex-girlfriend telling you--I wasn't that pretty, when I was that young.

The Most Boring Sex Party in All Orlais Josephine and Leliana both admit the night they met ended with someone's smallclothes pinned to the Chanter's Board--but what happened right before? Josephine says, “I have played the Game before, and understand its cutthroat stakes. But I must admit, I never thought I would witness the opening salvo of a coup at the most boring sex party of all Orlais.”

Catabasis Kirkwall's in ashes and Hawke and their friends are on the run. Varric might have ended the story at the docks, but the conflict continues. The question persists: should they separate? And what brought them together in the first place? From a series of prompts ellie-effie and musetta3 sent me.

The Domestics Alistair runs into an older elven woman on the battlements, watching the children play in the Skyhold courtyard below. They get to talking: isn't it nice that the mages get to keep their children now? Then, in the course of the conversation, Alistair figures it out. Alistair says, “I always wondered. What my life would’ve been like, if she could’ve kept me. I always kinda knew she didn’t have a choice. King’s bastards are the king’s, not whoever carried them. If she were a servant and if I’d end up in the kitchens or, better yet, the dairy. I really like cheese. But if she were a mage, I guess we never had any of that. Unless she ran away.”

The Bane of Red Crossing In the astrarium cave in the Storm Coast with Inquisitor Lavellan, Cole, and Solas, Sera opens a chest and finds a beautiful bow, named the Bane of Red Crossing. But what is the Bane of Red Crossing? According to the codex: "Ser Yves de Chevac used this bow in the Exalted March against the Dales – specifically, in the liberation of Val Royeaux, where the chevalier famously struck down the elven forces' commander with a shot to the throat at two hundred feet." Lavellan is not pleased, but does not know how to communicate effectively with Sera. Cole and Solas make it worse. Sometimes there is no adequate resolution, when you are faced with the instrument of your great-grandparents' destruction. Sometimes there is nothing that disinterested compassion can say.

To the Victor the Spoils In the Skyhold gardens, in Adamant's wake, Solas meets Loghain. A character study of two trickster-kings, speaking a little too honestly. As Loghain himself says, "The past is always with us. It’s in our bones and our blood and we wear it on our skin. You can think otherwise, but you’ll never get far without it."

Dead Man Hiking Solas broods over what has been lost. Dorian interrupts, and Solas dangles hidden knowledge in front of him like a carrot. They both take the bait, because, as irritable and sad Solas can get, "he wants to give wisdom, not orders," and Dorian loves to learn. Written for Beyond the Veil's 2020 Satinalia Gift Exchange.

So Much Lore! So Much Information! Dorian has a wonderful conversation with the Skyhold Librarian about improvements to the library's filing system and the innovations coming out of Minrathous when Vivienne comes by and points out he's just talking to himself. He's been waxing rhapsodic about the Tevinter equivalent of the Dewey decimal system to a spirit--or maybe a demon. So clearly they must investigate.

Dirthara Ma! May You Learn After the Exalted Council, Solas stops for a drink and a sulk in a quiet tavern in Ostwick. He is convinced no one will ever recognize him with a full head of hair and a beard. Then the Inquisitor walks in. The first in a canon-compliant post-Trespasser Solavellan series.

White Nights A year after Trespasser, Lavellan takes a new lover to a quiet inn in Val Royeaux. She steps out to the balcony for a quick smoke under the stars, looks over to the balcony adjacent to hers--and who is there but the Dread Wolf himself, slightly disguised, with a glass of wine? Despite themselves they talk, and do not stop talking. “Entertain me,” Solas says. “What ending will Master Tethras write for us? Because I do not know how to leave this gracefully. Though I suppose any ending is better than the last one, when I left with your arm.” The second and most comprehensive in a canon-compliant post-Trespasser Solavellan series. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me. One of my favorite things I've written in 2020.

Ligaments Briala has loaded her dice when playing the Game. Gaspard throws her in prison, but her message goes out to both the Dread Wolf, keen to better his reputation for catastrophe amongst the elves of Orlais, and the Dalish Inquisitor, who is still reeling from the loss of her arm. “We do not necessarily know he is the enemy,” Leliana says. “And it is exciting, no? To have that rush of danger and destruction between every kiss.” The third in a canon-compliant post-Trespasser Solavellan series. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me. One of my favorite things I've written in 2020.

Out From Under the Dread Wolf's Eye Briala and Merrill try and steal an eluvian out from under the Dread Wolf's eye. It doesn't quite work, but that doesn't mean the day's a failure, not when there's dinner to be had and a connection to explore. Written as a gift for hellbell, for a prompt they gave for the Sapphic Solstice 2021 Gift Exchange, but not submitted to the collection.

The Domesticities Solas adjust to a new, gentle love that has gripped his heart and will not let him go: a Lavellan who heralds a world he did dream of, and learns how to survive grief and his own betrayal, learns how to surrender the high moral ground and focus on the domesticities. A series of Solas-POV ficlets from my story, Fen'Harel's Teeth, where Lavellan is a mother and leader in her own right, and barely keeping her head above the water of her own deep grief. Not in chronological order!

He Who Hunts Alone Solas will restore the Elvhen People as he knew them, even if this world must die. It is his only purpose as he understands it. But a magical accident leaves him in another world, where a version of himself has made a very different choice. Solas is forced to reckon with a desire he has never let himself explore. Inquisitor Tara Trevelyan, both his friend and adversary, is dragged with him, as they move from their world, to a world where Solas seems to have won it all, to another that seems both their worst nightmare. Inquisitor Tara Trevelyan: the rebel apostate mage, romanced Josephine Inquisitor Imladris Lavellan: the Dalish First, romanced Solas, featured in Fen'Harel's Teeth Inquisitor Brigid Trevelyan: the faithful Andrastian prophet, rogue and noble, Tara's sister, romanced Blackwall and then Cullen Written in tandem with my partner, batsy22-me, and likewise abandoned when we got bored of it.

Fen'Harel's Teeth First Lavellan, Imladris Ashallin, thought that her audience with the Divine against templars' harassment of Dalish mages would be a token protest, and that her people would use it to draw the city elves closer to the Vir Tanadahl. She didn't think her Keeper's calculations would catapult her to the top of the Chantry's leadership, manipulating the powers of Thedas to leave her people be. Meanwhile, Briala foments revolution in Halamshiral, using the eluvian network to sabotage the armies of Orlais. A new movement erupts in the Dales, and elves across Thedas look at this so-called "Herald of Andraste" and see Mythal's vallaslin. Fiona breaks the chains of mages across Thedas, and Fenris starts whispers of a new age in Tevinter--one where the slaves throw down their masters. A new age is coming, and all of Thedas look to Lavellan to usher it in. My baby, my never-ending story, my current work-in-progress.

My Harry Potter Stories

Harry Potter Daydreams Archiving my old Harry Potter headcanons from Tumblr onto AO3. These are not necessarily nice to the characters from canon, and focus what I find interesting--their flaws, and how that could create conflict in their lives.

General Snape Headcanons Archiving my old Harry Potter headcanons from Tumblr onto AO3.

Augury Gang Eileen's mother curses her, and she dies not too long after giving birth to Severus. Tobias, a millworker and a proud union man, does his best.

Snape in the City Instead of dying, Snape moves to New York. A Severus Snape/Narcissa Malfoy and Severus Snape/Regulus Black story.

An Incident at the Mill the millrat AU A series of vignettes on what could’ve happened if Tobias Snape had been badly injured in an accident at the mill, forcing Severus to drop out of Hogwarts before the Prank. Predominantly Lilycentric. Snily shippers, rejoice: most of the vignettes are from Lily’s point of view, featuring her as flawed, passionate, bullheaded, comfortable in her sexuality, quick to curse and quicker to laugh at herself–and with a complicated relationship to alcohol and the Wizarding World. A big thank you to eleniaz and deathdaydungeon for sparking the initial headcanons that became this series.

Saplings 1980 Albus asks Minerva to tend to the "tender new sapling" of a Potions Master. Minerva looks at the manic-triggered recovered Death Eater and thinks they're doomed for failure. Snape thinks she's right. A couple of friendship & mentorship & not-quite hurt/comfort ficlets, where Severus oozes despair and McGonagall fails, completely, utterly, to be of service. There are two pieces of fanart floating around Snapedom, one of Snape oozing, the other a comic eleniaz did years ago. Unfortunately I've lost the links.

Harry Potter and the Summer of the Stepfather In an alternate world where Neville Longbottom is the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter's parents divorce relatively amicably. Eventually, Lily starts dating again, and Harry finds himself actually enjoying the summer Snape stays over.

Last Round at the Hog's Head Thirty-one ficlets written for the 2020 Snapetober challenge.

Your Body's a Revolution Eight stories written for the 2020 Trans Snape Week challenge.

July 1977 Snape stews in teenage melodrama, eating lunch at a cheap fish-and-chips shop in Upper Cokeworth, beset by memories of a wasted ex-girlfriend, who couldn't be Lily Evans--what Bertha Jorkins saw behind the greenhouses, and what came after. Revised from an earlier account, cross-posted from fanfiction.net.

Maleficari's Mutinous Munitions Sprout grew the wrong kind of mandrakes--mandragora, rather than English mandrakes, and no one knew that there actually was an infinitesimal difference--so Severus needs to save the day before Lockhart can. A little of Slytherin cunning, a willingness to embezzle, and a sense of spite wins the day. Prompted by masaotheheckindog.

Honeydukes Horror Remus Lupin genially humiliates Severus Snape as he attempts to order chocolates. Some schoolboy grudges never get better, and nothing Severus can say will let him seem the better man. Prompted by snapescapades.

Weavers Bored before the start of sixth year, Harry goes through Petunia's old family photo albums. He demands some answers, and Dumbledore sends Snape. "He finds a photo of her laughing with a boy who is not his father, who’s got his long black hair and a hand thrown up, too, covering his face. She’s about his age in this photo, or a bit older. Carefully he slides it out of the plastic. There’s writing on the back: 'Weavers, Sev & Lily, 1976. to Baba O’Riley and the rest of our lives!!' The writing is familiar, spidery, almost indecipherable, and he squints because it reminds him of someone, it’s strangely familiar, and then he drops the photo in shock. Because he knows: that’s Severus Snape."

They Call This Closure? Severus comes to consciousness into a dream of Potter reenacting his worst memory-and then Lily Evans comes tearing in at age sixteen, rather than as the more mature adult his subconscious normally designs her. They call this closure? Officially dead, officially incomplete: and I call this closure?

Harry Potter and the Cursed Mark Triple-cross! Mitarashi Anko of the Village Hidden in the Leaves joins Severus Snape as one of Dumbledore's agents, seeking to train the Boy-Who-Lived to understand his mental connection to Lord Voldemort. Snape thinks that they really didn't need to hire a goddamn technicolor ninja to fill the DADA position, but at least it's not one of Fudge's underlings taking charge--wait, he has to put up with her anyway? More seriously, Anko and Severus discover a connection between their cursed marks and the Potter boy's scar, Dumbledore expedites the plot, and Voldemort weaves an insidious plot, inspired by Lord Orochimaru, to take over the Resistance--from the inside. Incomplete and officially dead.

My Star Trek Stories

Raktajino Kira Nerys stews over the history of Terok Nor and the Occupation over a cup of raktajino, soon after she meets Marritza, and Garak just does not know when to leave a bleeding wound alone. Written as a gift for batsy22-me.

Open Mic at Quark's Thirty-one stories written for Trektober 2020, ranging from TOS, the movies, to Lower Decks and Discovery. Includes Keiko joining the Maquis, Spock introducing Amanda to Saavik, Mariner and crew getting lost on a road trip, and more!

Splash Quark takes a dip in a hot spring. Odo follows. It is not, Odo insists, sexy. Regardless, Quark is going to enjoy tormenting him with mutual nudity, since he was the one who interrupted his bath, after all. Prompted by saathiray.

Lore and the Prophets Lore thinks he can sneak off Deep Space Nine and get through the wormhole without anyone noticing. The Prophets have other ideas. Written for the Star Trek 2020 Gift Exchange, for electricsunrise.

Jambalaya Before Worf's wedding plans take over the station, Benjamin Sisko tries to find out what happened during the Founders' occupation of Deep Space Nine, and why Odo won't look him in the eye. Of course he investigates in the guise of inviting everyone to dinner.

Tear of the Prophets Was prompted by saathiray to write about Kira Nerys repatriating an artifact sacred to Bajor from Cardassia, and this is what we got! The Shakaar cell leads a procession after Cardassia returns the Orb of Contemplation to Bajor, to collective joy. Kai Opaka says, "So I say to you my people, the survivors of atrocity and keepers of the wormhole—the Prophets cried for you millennia before you were made. They sent their Tears from their temple as a safeguard as to what was to come. And now that it is safe, now that we have won—their Tears are for all." Featuring Latha having an Orb experience, explaining why he became a vedek.

Jane Austen Book Club Dukat reads Pride and Prejudice to help him understand human relations (and fuck the Sisko). He thinks he’s being Darcy but really, he’s just Mr. Collins…and evil. Garak lends him a copy of Jane Austen and a horrific cravat, and really, it's all downhill from there.

Miscellaneous Stories

Fireworks, a feminist deconstruction of Naruto Sarada takes one look at the Uchiha legacy and decides she wants no part of it. Sakura, who has built herself a life independent of the husband who abandoned them, tries to reckon with how her daughter cannot actually decide the path her life takes. And Hanabi is happy to offer advice and consolation, as Sakura tries to talk her best friends into letting Sarada be a civilian. A feminist deconstruction of Naruto, where everyone is taken seriously and treated with the same love Sakura offers to all her friends. No character-bashing, just contemplating what could have happened if, when Sasuke left Sakura and their baby the second time, Sakura decided to file for divorce rather than wait for him to come back. Of course they still love each other. Of course it's not simple.

Same Time Next Week?, a Babylon 5 fanfic Vir and Lennier meet for their usual drink. A pre-relationship, lightest of touches, beginning of it all story.

Sunrise, Parabellum, a Disco Elysium fanfic Early Wednesday morning, before Harry's woken up and before they've closed the water lock and headed to the fishing village, Kim Kitsuragi gets up and wants a cigarette. He has a cup of coffee instead and contemplates his partner's newfound sobriety. Sunrise, parabellum: he gets up and prepares for war.

Dragon Eyes, an Avatar: the Last Airbender fanfic On a diplomatic mission to the Fire Nation, Katara leaves the children with Aang to have tea with Zuko and Mai. But the two of them have something they want to talk about. They've lived enough of fathers neglecting one child for the other, and they have seen enough. Katara wishes they had propositioned her, rather than bring this up.

Cages, an Avatar: the Last Airbender fanfic Mai visits Azula. It is not easy.

#5lazarus #writing #masterlist #dragon age fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #star trek fanfiction

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lifblogs · 3 years

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Presented to you by a horny pansexual, that exhibitionist Anakin fic I talked about.

4530 words

read on ao3

“Ani, I understand you like that rush that recklessness and daring gives you, but is this all really necessary?” Padmé asked as Anakin walked her down the long public aisle before their palace on Coruscant to the high steps of the dais, a hand against the small of her back. She’d tried talking him out of it just a bit, getting her own secret thrill from having power over him. But that was how she’d wanted to keep it, secret.

He leaned in, and murmured in her ear, even as the crowds cheered for their emperor and empress, “You’ll enjoy yourself, I promise. Besides, how else will they know we’ll produce heirs?”

Padmé actually found herself letting out a small giggle at that last comment.

“Really, you’re going with that reasoning? Just admit you want to kriff me in public.”

“Fine, I want to kriff you in public.”

“But to make a spectacle of it?”

“We’re royalty, celebrities. Come on, it’ll be worth it. You’ll like it.”

Despite her nerves, Padmé was willing to try, and besides, now that the photoreceptors from droids with repulsorlifts had sent their image to viewscreens around the large area that’d been cleared for this event, she couldn’t back out. Something about that sent a thrill down her spine, and it stayed as a gentle, throbbing warmth.

Anakin had no need to address the crowd once they’d climbed the dais and made it to the altar-like table that had been set up for them.

“Why not a bed?” she asked him after tugging him down so he could hear her.

He grinned at her, the darkness present in his yellowed eyes now being filled with heat. It was a simple answer: You know.

Padmé swallowed roughly, her throat suddenly very dry.

Then, he raised an eyebrow at her, and she let him grab her and practically crush her against him. Padmé had thought she wouldn’t be able to drown out the noise of their subjects, some of their language now becoming coarse and crude, but a part of her managed. In fact, she didn’t even have to try. Anakin’s lips were hot when they touched hers, and electricity seemed to shoot through her.

She grasped at his black robe, desperately clawing it off his shoulders.

Before this, the both of them had shared two glasses of wine laced with an aphrodisiac, and now she could feel it working, her body starting to burn and tingle. The throbbing in her gut grew, and she moaned, trying to work at his mouth as thoroughly as he worked at hers.

A growl left him, but he pulled back to let her pull his robe off. He leaned in, reaching out with his tongue to lick her lips, and she obediently opened her mouth for him.

His hands began to wander, and they soon seemed quite content to grasp her ass, pulling her hips into him as he ground against her.

Padmé’s head whirled and she wrapped her arms about his neck, needing to hold onto him to stay standing. He was already so hard.

She thought this was all happening a bit fast, but she soon didn’t care when Anakin began to undo the laces on her elaborate black and silver gown.

A deep red blush worked up from her neck as she seemed to make out some voices egging Anakin on.

Despite the darkness that lingered in him, he kissed her cheek gently. “It’s just you and me,” he reminded her.

Padmé nodded, gazing up at him with big eyes.

She couldn’t breathe, not as he pulled her hands from him, or as he undressed her. She tried looking at the crowd, but he grabbed her chin.

“Just look into my eyes.”

So she did.

When he had first become a Sith Padmé had feared that she wouldn’t love his eyes anymore, but she loved them so much because he was still her Ani. No matter what changes he went through, what happened to either of them, he would still be hers. And she was his. She knew she was his. Maybe this was just to let everyone else know unequivocally. Hell, he’d even invited Rush Clovis. To her surprise though, Padmé hadn’t seen Anakin smirk at anyone particular in the crowd just yet.

She shivered as he pulled her dress down, revealing her soft, creamy skin. His breathing was hard, and fast, his cheeks pink. And the look in his eyes. Padmé had so many dirty thoughts running through her head. She wanted him to slam her down on that table and kriff her till she couldn’t walk. She wanted him to use her body for his own, unknowingly giving her power as he enjoyed his own. She did have power, more than he knew, more than most people knew. All she had to do was crook a finger and the dark Sith Lord, Emperor Skywalker, would come running. At times he’d even gotten on his knees.

There would be none of that now, but her nerves went away as she thought of it, and a small, private smile alit her face.

Her dress was pushed off of her, and then it pooled about her feet.

Hmm… Maybe next time she would suggest a more revealing dress, one where he could leave his marks on her, and slowly undress her as their touches grew more heated.

Wait, next time? What in the universe was she thinking?

Soon, she wasn’t thinking because Anakin took her hand, and let it trail up his hard abdomen under his tunic.

Feeling his breaths, his muscles, his warm skin… she couldn’t breathe.

Padmé needed no incentive to touch his body with her other hand, marveling over the well-known shape of his muscles.

Anakin began to undo his tunic. She tried to help him, but quick as lightning, his hands shot out, grabbing her wrists, and he snarled at her. His expression was almost cruel, and her mouth opened in surprise. She tried to say his name, but he just pressed her hands against him again, one lower.

Anakin groaned, deep and long, lids almost closing, as she complied, and gripped him.

She rubbed her thighs together, trying in any way to relieve the wet heat pooling in between her legs in a mad rush.

Her husband, now urged on by her touches, took off his tunic, and she gasped as he was revealed to her. It didn’t matter that she knew what he looked like. Every bit of skin he showed her, at any time, was enough to leave her wanting in some way.

There was a roaring in her ears as he said, looking down at her, “On your knees.”

Droids that hung in the air about them picked up his voice, and it was transferred to the crowd.

If she looked she wondered if she’d see people blushing, wanting to do as he said, to do what Padmé was about to do for him. And surely there’d be a fair share of male lifeforms that were simply dying with anticipation.

Padmé’s eyes wandered his body as she did as he’d ordered, slowly getting to her knees amongst their discarded clothing.

With shaking hands—shaking from want? The aphrodisiac? Nerves?—she began to tug at the hem of his black pants.

Despite being Emperor, Anakin still tended to dress as a Jedi, though his clothes now had a more Sith leaning to them. This made his erection beyond obvious, and Padmé couldn’t breathe as she began to reveal him.

Anakin was pulling at the silver headdress in her hair, working on tugging it out without getting any of her strands caught on it.

Once he did so, he discarded it, not caring if it broke on the stone he tossed it to (they were richer than gods). Then his hands made their way into her hair, caressing. His right hand came around to her face, and Padmé gasped as his cybernetic hand, enclosed in a black leather glove, touched her. His thumb traced her lips, and she opened her mouth. Without thinking, she took his thumb into her mouth.

“Good…” Anakin murmured.

Padmé moaned, and pulled his cock free.

He took his thumb out for her to lick, and then pressed his pointer and middle finger into her mouth. For some reason, knowing of the hard metal and the wires, and the strength hidden beneath that smooth glove was enough for Padmé to throb incessantly. With her hands on his cock, she began to firmly stroke. Oh, she loved having his cock in her hands. He was just so large, and the things she could make him feel. Many times, sequestered away in her office, or even a closet in a hallway, she had gotten him off with just her hands. It always left her needing to satisfy herself later, or needing him to satisfy her, but that was part of the point. And now, he was going to satisfy her. Completely.

She pulled his hand out of her mouth, and brushed it aside. At first he tightened his grip on her hair, angered, but then he realized what she was doing. He pulled her to his cock. There was nothing gentle about what happened next. A hand around her throat, the other in her hair, he shoved himself into her open mouth.

Padmé had had some practice taking him all in at once, but to have it happen so quickly left her gagging and choking.

He seemed to find the sounds enticing, as did the roaring crowd. To her surprise, she did too. Her nipples became stiff peaks, and she was sure her clit was filled with blood. As she knelt she yearned to be touched so badly that it hurt.

Trying to relax her throat, her brain now creating endorphins and adrenaline to combat the panic of her mouth and throat so suddenly being stuffed, she reached in between her legs with one hand.

He grabbed that wrist in a near-bruising grip, leaving her weak and wanting, and he placed it firmly against him.

Padmé understood the message: Don’t touch yourself. Touch me.

He pulled out of her, a thick trail of spit connecting them, and she gasped for breath, Anakin’s hold on her throat not at all tight, and allowing air in.

Before she could fully catch her breath, the thick, hard heat of him was filling her again.

She wanted to please him with her hands through this, wanted to do as he said, but she didn’t know how when all she knew was that she was so thoroughly filled by him. He was all there was. The crowd disappeared, but his thrusts were hard, and fast, always increasing as if it hadn’t disappeared for him. He was getting off to this.

He released her throat once he pulled out of her again, and she looked up at him through watering eyes, struggling to see the dark satisfaction on his face, the raging lust. Her vision cleared, and she did see it. She felt something push at her gently. The Force? It pushed her towards his cock, ever so slowly.

Listening to him, understanding him completely, she began to pump his soaking wet, thick length, lavishing him with sloppy kisses, licking him, and sucking on the tip. Her tongue played with his frenulum and he twitched. A slight throb pulsed through him, from the base to the tip, and precum dribbled into her abused mouth.

Her hands worked at the base of him, at his balls, and then he was in her again, pounding her throat. Her hands gripped his ass, wanting more of him. There was a deep warmth in her chest, as if her very soul wanted what he could give to her. And she still squirmed where she knelt, unintentionally fighting him, even as her throat was now relaxed. And she wanted to touch herself, wanted him to touch her, to please her beyond anything she could comprehend.

In time, Anakin was pulling out of her, and dragging her up to her feet. Light-headed, Padmé collapsed against him, and he bent his knees somewhat to have a better hold on her. His soaked, wanting cock pressed against her stomach.

“You all right?” he whispered to her.

As a response, Padmé kissed him, and he kissed back, deeply, as if thanking her mouth for the pleasure it had given him. His tongue felt everywhere, and even seemed to be trying to get into her throat.

He stepped out of his pants, which had fallen well past his knees as he’d kriffed her mouth, and then he was hoisting her up. Padmé wrapped her legs around him, grinding, needing.

Anakin placed her on the table. She tried to stay hanging on to him, but he was bigger than her, stronger than her; so in seconds, she was twirled around, on the table the long way.

He released her, and began to circle her, slowly pumping at his cock with a tight grip.

The look in his eyes suggested that he wanted to thoroughly enjoy his prey. All Padmé could do was sit back, weight resting on her palms, her knees up, as she stared at him, mouth open with want, hot breaths rushing in and out of her in gasps and pants.

He climbed onto the table with her, and she tilted her head back as he got over her, kissing and sucking at her neck. He bit at her pulsepoint, and then her throat, making her breaths hitch, and her hips undulate against him.

Anakin worked his way down her body, hands taking time with her breasts, painfully pinching and twisting her nipples till they were swollen and red and she wanted nothing more but for him to soothe them with his tongue.

But he had other quarries in mind.

Anakin widened Padmé’s legs, and her climax nearly burst through her right then.

When he got to her clit, her back arched, her head thrown back, and a cry left her mouth.

She squeezed her eyes shut tight, not wanting to see the crowd.

This was private, she kept telling herself. And if she just stayed with him in this moment, that’s all it would be.

But it was more than that for her husband.

She looked down at him, and saw him pulling away to grin at everyone.

That angered her somewhat, and she used her foot to whack the back of his head.

A snarl left him, and he latched onto her in between her legs. Fire licked through her, entwining itself deep in her core, and the want it enraged was satisfied somewhat as, without preamble, he plunged two of his cybernetic fingers into her.

Padmé’s legs shook, and her hips fought him, body overwhelmed, and not knowing what to do. He wrapped his free arm around her hips, pulling her closer, holding her to him, and Padmé could only grip the edges of the table with a white-knuckled grip and cry out as he took his pleasure from her, and as he filled her with it.

He was ravenous, tasting everywhere. He sucked and licked, and bit. There was no kissing, the action too gentle for this. And his other fingers, they delved in and out of her, and they beckoned, pressing against that wonderful wall of nerves in her, making fire simply burst within her.

It didn’t take too long for all of it to become so overwhelming that, even as she wanted more and more, she pushed at his head, or just leveraged her hands against the smooth surface of the table to try and shove herself away.

The powerful muscles along his left shoulder and arm bunched, forcing her to stay against him. A growl vibrated against her flesh.

The fingers in her pressed hard, almost too hard. It had her feeling like sparks were erupting in her head. A wet and wild pleasure throbbed through her, every touch making her want more and more, but it was too much! But yes, more. Please, please…

Padmé found herself begging, the words leaving her quickly. She didn’t know what she was begging for, but soon, pleasure exploded through her, and it seemed as if her entire core was contracting, the sensations of it all so powerful. He kept at it, leaving her a screaming, near-crying mess. And all the way, he drank up the juices her body released in abundance.

Her face flushed a deeper red than it had previously been as she realized her body had never done that before. Yes, she’d heard of women releasing fluids with orgasm, but it was rare, and Anakin had made her do so.

When her climax ended, she lay back, and his fingers left her with a wet squelch. His grip relaxed, hands feeling up to her breasts. His tongue licked at her lazily, as he her lay back and let her catch her breath.

Padmé’s eyes centered on the crowd, on the viewscreens of herself reaching high above.

Oh kriff.

No, no, she shouldn’t be ashamed.

She was their empress. Whatever she wanted, it was theirs to give. And surely she wanted all Anakin did. Every bit of it.

Finding herself surprised at this newfound exhilaration, Padmé grinned.

Anakin pulled away, hands gripping at her body hard, leaving red marks. He slapped her breasts, and when she cried out, he did it again.

“On your hands and knees,” he commanded. “I want to kriff you like a dog.”

Padmé had to swallow the sudden rush of saliva that made its way into her mouth. And apparently she hadn’t decided to start moving fast enough for him, so he grabbed her to turn her over. A cry of surprise left her, but she worked with him, and was soon on all fours, back arched to press her ass up and against him. He worked his cock against her, the throbbing hardness of it touching her wet, yearning center, even grazing roughly against the rim of her asshole. The pleasure she got from that mere touch shocked her, and she thought—

No, another time.

Anakin spanked her, leaving her falling to her elbows. He spanked her again and again, yet even as her body stung and soreness pounded—making her sure that bruises would form—she dutifully kept her ass in the air. The effort to do so, fighting with herself, with the pain, left her shaking. But oh, how she wanted it. Began to crave it.

Anakin realized this, and began to hold back his rough blows. Without a thought, Padmé begged for each one.

Then, to her surprise, his cock was pressing against her entrance, and he pushed in.

A grunt left her, one that she couldn’t hold back. He leaned against her, grasping her, pulling her up against him to hold her close.

“You’re mine,” he growled in her air.

“Yes,” she breathed.

And you’re mine too.

He began to thrust, going deeper and deeper each time, till he was so deep it was difficult to comprehend, or for her body to even understand. Oh, kriff, he filled her up so much, his heavy, cum-filled balls pressing right against her.

“Ani…” she breathed.

He pulled her hair away from her face, and licked her ear. Then, he questioned, voice a low gravel that had her squirming on his cock. “Do you want me?”

“Ani, I—”

He pressed in deeper, a soreness making its way up into her stomach and around her hips. Soon pleasure moved in with it, and she couldn’t breathe.

“Do you want me?” he repeated, a desperate tone in his voice, one that sounded similar to his fiery rage that she often calmed by sitting on his cock. “Do you want me!”

Padmé licked her lips and panted out, “Yes, yes…”

And Padmé lost track of everything that wasn’t his hot, sweaty skin pressed against hers, his cock moving in and out of her, practically beating her.

It wasn’t long before Padmé needed something to cope with how her body was moving, how pressure hit her deep again and again, pure ecstasy bursting out from it, seeming to fill her stomach with a liquidy heat. She grit her teeth, screaming through them. Anakin, ever the dutiful husband, put his fingers in her mouth, and she sucked, finding comfort and satisfaction from it.

He was moaning in her ear, and panting her name, and telling her how good she was.

His front was pressed against her back, and the pure bliss of feeling his muscles bunching and moving against her as he worked to fill her was indescribable.

She pushed back against him, wanting the pain this gave her; the deep, hard pressure; the fullness; the pure, white fire. She wanted him, wanted everything. And for a mere moment, her residual shyness creeped back into shadows, and she was glad so many were witnessing this, witnessing him worshipping her, and using her to his heart’s content. He belonged to her.

Anakin let out a sound that very may well have been a sob, and she tightened herself around him, making him nearly scream and whine.

He went at her brutally till she was coming on his considerable length, body fighting his, insides contracting powerfully.

A rumble filled his chest, clawed up his throat, and came out as a rough scream. His sweat dripped onto her, his hot cheek pressed against her own, breathing with her.

White light seemed to fill her, and it was all she could see, and a numb, ringing in her ears accompanied it. Padmé’s head felt fuzzy, her very brain seeming to short-out from the pleasure. Her blood rushing gleefully down to her core, to heat him, to relish in all he was giving her.

When she caught her breath somewhat, she begged, “Keep going. Ani, keep going. Please. Please please ple-ase!” The last word ended in a high-pitched cry that was nearly a squeal as he went at her again, hips smacking against her ass, body riding her down into the table.

Minutes seemed to pass, and Padmé was surprised she noticed. Or perhaps it wasn’t really that surprising. Her pleasure was building and building, but nothing came of it, and she grew so frustrated, she almost started crying. It left her body tense against his, even though she wanted to relax, and let him have her.

He slowed, and panted out, so quietly the droids wouldn’t pick it up, “What is it?”

“Can’t seem to come again,” she breathed, a moan in her voice. She rolled her hips on his cock, and he almost fell against her. They both moaned. “I want to so badly,” she whined.

“What will help?” Anakin asked.

“Anything. Anything,” she told him, practically begging.

He pulled out of her, and she growled at the emptiness she felt in her. Padmé turned herself over, and threw herself at him, mouth rough against his. He met her with similar viciousness, biting and sucking as if he wanted to eat her.

All of her was pulsing and throbbing as she dripped with sweat, and she was surprised to feel a tear roll down her cheek.

Anakin settled himself into a sitting position, taking her with him. He pulled her onto him, cock plunging into her again, and moved her hips for her for a bit, as if to just satisfy and comfort himself. For a few moments she wondered if he’d forgotten about her, but then he was having her get up and turn to rest back on him.

She closed her eyes and groaned as his cock filled her again. She leaned back against him.

One arm went across her chest, a hand squeezing at her breast. His other hand went between her legs to finger her clit.

A shiver ran through her, and she tightened around him without meaning to. Her body began to ride him, Padmé not in control of the actions. His finger on her clit just felt so good!

His touch was light but fast, and oh, her breast hurt from his hand, but in the best way. He pinched her nipple hard, and then he began moving in and out of her. They groaned together, and she tried to ride him, her legs spread so wide over him she felt as if all of her was open to all he was. His own legs were working hard to keep thrusting into her, the muscles of his thighs bunching and bulging.

With shaking hands, Padmé reached back, and grabbed onto him, not sure what else she could do.

In seconds she was coming on him, and he kept going as he had earlier, though this time more desperately, his voice coming out in cries she couldn’t hear, but could feel the breaths of, Padmé deaf from the roaring in her body.

All of her burned and pulsed, and tingled, and oh kriff, he went at her so good. As her body squeezed him, begging, begging, he let out a scream, breath coming out hard against her ear, and he was cumming, throbbing as he released into her. He tried to push deeper and deeper, hips right against her till it hurt. He worked at her clit with wild abandon, his arm going down to hold her abdomen, head resting against her shoulder.

Padmé wasn’t sure how long it took for either of their bodies to calm down, but in time he pulled out of her.

To her surprise, he was still raging hard. Usually he would soften just a bit, then harden again, ready for another round, but not even that was happening. Was it the laced wine?

Perhaps. Padmé was still ready to go.

He kissed along her neck to her ear, the sound of the crowd coming back to her, absolutely savage, raucous cheers filling the air. She felt his lips curl up in a smile against her skin.

“How about we finish this in private?” he asked, teasing at her clit, and making her writhe and press into him.

She turned, and his hand went up to caress her neck before cupping her face gently. They kissed, tongues just beginning to meet before she pulled away.

“I’d adore that, your Imperial Majesty.”

“Well then, Imperial Majesty, let’s go.”

“What about your subjects?”

“Our subjects?”

“Yes.”

“I think they’ve had enough of a show. I bet they’re all simply bucking at the reins of societal convention, urgent to get behind closed doors to find pleasure. But it won’t be as satisfying for them because they don’t have you.”

Padmé kissed him again, and bit his bottom lip.

“Just carry me inside, Ani, so you can ruin me.”

That was all it took, and they departed to wild cheers.

And once inside their palace, Anakin filled all of her, making her body know who it belonged to. And Padmé adored it because in doing all this, she knew that Anakin belonged to her. Her power was quiet, and hidden, and she wielded it in their bedroom to their utmost, raging satisfaction.

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