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gemsofgreece · 1 month

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Some thoughts on the Homeric Age and the Early Archaic Period

Based on my reading of the Iliad and the Odyssey in the original Homeric Greek text and a fairly loyal Modern Greek rendering

I had read these in middle school but, you know, fewer things stick with you when you do them as a chore. I was interested in reading them again, not so much for the already familiar stories, but for what I could take from them and conclude about the Greek society more than 2800 years ago! I must note that it is unclear how accurately the poet(s?) - let’s say Homer - portrays the Homeric Age and events that supposedly took place more than four centuries before his time. The question is, are we truly getting a picture of the Homeric age or at least an archaic Greek society? My opinion is that the epics must have been a reflection of some early Greek era indeed and not be entirely imaginary. Most historians believe Homer does a fairly decent job at preserving cultural and social elements of an age long gone even for him, although it’s undoubtable there is a lot of infiltration with elements of his own times too.

Peace and War

It is interesting that even though the Iliad is a war themed epic and graphic violence and gore are not missed in the Odyssey either, both the characters of the epics (who are famed warriors more often than not) and the poet - narrator acknowledge war as a great evil that causes a lot of pain to people. Even the victors pillaging and taking slaves have total awareness and understanding that a slave or a defeated enemy are suffering a lot. It seems it is a man’s duty to confront that great evil and be decently prepared and trained for it, however it is not a situation that most have a special yearning for. Most men agree that there is nothing like having peace and enjoying your companies and families, however it was a great shame for a man to step back once war broke out. A war or a fight or any argument would be ignited usually by acts of injustice or great offence that should be obligatorily punished immediately, even if the offended would deep inside rather stay at home. As an example, Odysseus murders violently all of Penelope’s suitors and twelve girl slaves who betrayed his wife and slept willingly with them. He does not waver at all, despite the pleas for mercy. When his oldest servant and nanny sees the gruesome scene with all the dead, she rejoices and cheers. Odysseus then scolds her, for “anybody’s death should never be a reason for joy”. So we have this somewhat contradictory stance in a society which proclaims itself peaceful and fair yet it takes too little to outrage and urge at acts of vengeance and violence. Violence and war are seen as measures that must be taken and that one must not recoil from but there is wide acknowledgment that war and death brought to others should not be desired or enjoyed. It was definitely not among cultures that viewed war or conquest as some sort of sacred destiny or pride. But it also did not take much for them to find excuses for a war or a fight.

Religion

Despite misconceptions that Ancient Greeks were always very anthropocentric and put logic and the potency of the human mind above all else, it is certain that at least up to the Archaic period this was not the case. Ancient Greeks of those early eras were very religious and attributed almost everything to their deities. The fate of a person is sealed from the beginning and the gods are well aware of it. Even the achievements or mistakes of great people are viewed as interventions by the gods. Although Odysseus is repeatedly praised for his intelligence and resourcefulness, it is almost always a god (Athena) who enlightens him on how to act or what to say. Misfortune is also entirely attributed to the gods - if a character suffers great misfortune, it is not so much because of their own misjudgment, the elements of nature or ill luck, but because some god is angered with them or has a special liking for their enemy.

Behavioural patterns

The most notable pattern in the behaviour of characters in the epics is that it is temperamental with plenty of mood swings. Granted, we should always keep into account that they are just ancient poems and maybe the care for gradual character development or realistic character consistency was not one of the priorities for ancient poets. If we do however still attempt to draw any conclusions, we observe people who are quick to judge, offend, get angry, praise, admire, get emotional, forgive. Some of these mood swings happen in minutes. Certainly this must not be realistic but it may be a sign the Ancient Greek people were that temperamental, quick to hate and quick to love. Another crucial observation, maybe a trademark trait of the Greek ethnos, it is apparent throughout the epics that the Greeks are people who love to talk a lot, they are argumentative and they enjoy discourse. Characters unfold their thoughts and feelings extensively and they do not shy away from being vulnerable. Furthermore, their speeches are bold and often candid; they can use strong language for the flaws of people they love and they add praises even in speeches against their enemies! In other words, they generally call it what it is - they are upfront about the flaws and the virtues of those they speak to. One last observation, they tend to be suspicious of others. There is an ongoing theme of trying, testing old friends and loved ones even when this is distressing to the other person and even though the events alone prove those people’s love and testing them really is superfluous and just shows a very suspicious, disbelieving nature. Of course, testing your loved ones is a huge recurring theme in international literary work ever since, therefore once again it would be reasonable to consider that even if those tendencies existed, they were exaggerated for the sake of the poems and the prolonged entertainment of the audience.

Objectivity

Perhaps the most fascinating aspect of reading the Homeric epics for me is how the author is largely removed from taking sides. Homer does like Odysseus, that is evident, however as a narrator he almost never speaks ill of any character. Any accusations are only made by characters against other characters. The narrator himself acknowledges positive traits in most characters or at the very least remains neutral. Even more interestingly, this expands to an ethnic level. Even though the epics are written by a Greek for the Greeks, there is resolutely no hatred or prejudice against any other culture mentioned. Trojans, Thracians, Aethiopians and many others are all acknowledged for their own virtues each and the narrator does not resent any for fighting against the Greeks. It is clear that at the time, discrimination and hate speech against other nations and cultures had not yet gotten to people’s minds that much. I found it very wonderful and interesting that a war text from 800 BC could master more objectivity and level-headedness than 99% of texts written in the 19th century around the world.

Women

[This part is a little longer so I am putting the rest of the post under a cut]

Classical Greece is notorious for how oppressed its women were, however either things were better for them a few centuries prior or the truth was more nuanced. Of course, we are undoubtedly talking about a deeply patriarchal society in which women were expected to restrict themselves in their own rooms and have little concern besides their kids and weaving. In spite of this, the poems are full of considerations and respect towards numerous women and seem to have them in a type of regard that is rarely mentioned in historians’ documentations. Women are portrayed with diverse personalities and the vast majority are presented as positive role models. In fact, there is only one woman who is mentioned in a downright negative way and that is Clytemnestra, but it’s only her husband who does this as well. Other than her, there is rarely if ever negative talk against other women. Even Helen is never treated badly by anybody; Helen is only ever criticised by herself. When she returns to Sparta, her people, Menelaus and visitors such as Telemachus seem to honour her as if nothing ever happened. Helen joins them in their festivities, is portrayed as more perceptible than Menelaus and always voices her thoughts in the overwhelmingly masculine company. Arete and Nausicaa are also significant female characters and they are more crucial to the safe return of Odysseus than King Alcinous. Penelope is one of the leading characters; her thoughts, feelings and turmoil interest the poet (and apparently the ancient audience) in a large part of the Odyssey, no less than the feelings of Odysseus himself. The input of women is often welcomed and considered - it is not taken into account usually when it gets in the way of plans that have to do with war and fighting or when the position of a male might be challenged in front of others. For example, Telemachus evidently loves and respects his mother but he eventually feels ashamed that he is becoming a grown man, the future king, that cannot get rid of his mother’s suitors and he often scolds her when she takes decisions regarding these matters in his and the suitors’ presence. Other than that, mothers in general are viewed as sacred and respectable. Odysseus, a mature manly warrior, is seen yearning for his mother’s embrace.

In Nausicaa we see that perhaps women could also go outdoors and have fun when accompanied by their maids. Nausicaa and her maids wash the clothes close to the shore and in the meantime they entertain themselves by playing with a ball until the sunset, with the permission of her parents.

The pain and turmoil of slave girls is seen and understood. Odysseus kills twelve of his fifty slave women because they betrayed him. The rest who remained loyal to the family rush to welcome him back - Odysseus hugs them all and weeps. This scene is beautiful because there is nothing resolutely sexual implied - it is clear that his relationship to them was more genuine than that of a master and his servants, they were also his protégées. He cared enough to weep for meeting again his female servants - this shows that even an unfree working girl could be impactful enough to a powerful man’s life without this necessarily involving sex. The slaves he killed received a shameful death but even so Telemachus explains to them why such a death is chosen for them as if he tries to excuse it. Meanwhile, there is not any hint of apologism when it comes to the gruesome amputation and murder of the male traitor. It seems it was viewed as more dubious for a man to kill a woman, whereas a man killing a man was viewed as a punishment or as a heroic act, depending on the context.

Goddesses are portrayed totally unapologetic; they clearly have the freedom to do morally questionable deeds without being judged by the mortals’ standards.

One very interesting detail is that when men converse with women, which happens a LOT in the Odyssey and not just between married couples, men often refer to gods as husbands of goddesses. For example, when Odysseus talks to Nausicaa or Penelope, he addresses Zeus as “Hera’s Zeus”. This is clearly a subtle attempt at honouring the woman the man is talking to - it stresses that even a god belongs to a goddess, even the father of all gods, is Hera’s man. This is not to question Zeus’ leadership among the gods or portray males as possessions of females but it is a way to respect the woman opposite them by acknowledging their own influence and importance. “Even Zeus is Hera’s Zeus, therefore I have the highest regard for you, my lady.” I believe this was the spirit and I thought it was a wonderfully subtle way to show regard for a woman.

Love, lust and sex

What I found the most interesting regarding romantic relationships is the impression I got that emotional connection and respect seemed to be more telling of someone’s devotion than physical intimacy. It seems that married men could get away with having sex with slave girls (not free women) as long as they did not sleep in the same bed or maintain a deeper emotional relationship with them. For Helen, it seems it was worse that she followed Paris away rather than that her being with him included having sex together. There is also totally the concept of casual sex of which goddesses seem to have a good understanding. Mortal women on the other hand can openly voice their sexual desire and take the initiative to have and enjoy sex but only when it is with their husband, but they are sometimes depicted to have willingly casual relationships (Odysseus’ working girls with the suitors), which is however a choice that is fatally punished by the master once he returns. However, it wasn’t so much the act of casual sex they got executed for but more so that it was with the suitors who were exploiting Odysseus’ riches and loved ones. There is a distinction in the Odyssey between women who eagerly entered sexual relationships with the suitors and others who were raped by them. I don’t claim it was entirely clear but to my understanding, the latter welcome Odysseus back and are not punished. Another interesting fact is that although Penelope is admired for her loyalty to Odysseus, she was not in fact socially obligated to grieve him for so long. Telemachus himself declares he is happy his mother is so loyal to her husband, however he would also be okay with her marrying somebody once he became of age. (It would also be convenient as the suitors would finally leave him alone.) Both Telemachus and the suitors repeatedly leave it to Penelope herself to pick whomever she fancies best, with the optional advice of her father. There is a small part that suggests some people would still gossip negatively if she took a new husband, however it was clearly totally acceptable for her to do so. Just like Penelope, Nausicaa, a maiden, is always concerned about what people will think, however when alone with Odysseus or her maids, she makes her attraction to him discreetly clear. I also found the men’s approach to love and sex very interesting. Men are depicted equally as capable of sexual desire, abstinence, indifference or even being sexually coerced. By the standards of the era, Odysseus is really as loyal to Penelope as she is to him, given that his infidelity was with two goddesses, one with a notorious love for potions and another who clearly kept him her prisoner.

When he returns to Ithaca, he keeps up a stone-faced fake identity for too long but when he reveals himself, he gradually becomes frustrated with Penelope’s cold and doubtful reception. We are told that apparently Odysseus was very invested in his marriage with Penelope, given the strenuous work he willingly did with his own hands to build and decorate their bedroom. When the couple reunites, Athena literally has to prolong the night for them to just weep together, cuddle, tell their sufferings (and have sex) enough. It just gives us a picture of a mutually respectful marriage where the wife is just as invaluable to the husband. Men are also depicted to have shame for their nudity, which is something that might seem surprising given the classical obsession with the body. Odysseus feels it is shameful, vulnerable and inappropriate to be seen, touched or washed by female servants, especially when he is significantly older than them. He also feels embarrassed for his looks under the female eyes. Lastly, in the Homeric epics women are ultimately the object of men’s desire. There is actually no mention of homosexual attraction. The only questionable moment, on which the entirety of the later speculations were founded, is when Achilles has a dream of deceased Patroclus and he express his wish to die and be buried together. Other than that, having sexual desire is exclusively expressed for women or, interestingly, by women in these two epics.

Other types of love such as friendships and familial relationships are full of vulnerability and expression as well. Men, fathers, sons, friends hug, cry and narrate their misfortunes openly and vulnerably. Grown men are still recipients of beautiful kind words as Thetis does with Achilles and as Penelope and even the swineherd Eumaeus, who operates as a paternal figure, do with Telemachus (both call him “sweet light”). (As a sidenote, it is clearly viewed as the right thing for a noble person to be close, caring and accessible to his servants and slaves.) Arete and Alcinous also treasure their daughter Nausicaa.

The most moving part of all, Odyssey might be the first text noting the literally undying love, devotion and wisdom of dogs. While Odysseus at the moment is in disguise and can’t show much affection or then grieve his dog Argos, it is clear that Homer wouldn’t bother adding that part if the Greek people hadn’t already started forming loving bonds with pets.

Stools

Boy they loved stools.

Conclusion

If there is any accuracy in Homer’s epics, then the late Homeric / early Archaic society was a society that generally tried to be peaceful and always measured the profit and cost from a war expedition but the equilibrium was really fragile and very often disturbed. People were religious, opinionated, argumentative, talkative and temperamental but they also valued loyalty, honour, hospitality, patience and bravery. They loved dearly and were fearlessly expressive, however they were also quick to anger and suspicion. It was a very patriarchal society, however women had their own way of being respected and reckoned. Sexual desire was seen as natural and expected in both sexes, however there were limitations to how upfront or open it could be in its expression. These limitations affected both women and men, but to different degrees or ways.

BONUS!

An examination of similarities and differences between this society and later / current stages of Greek society:

Some obvious similarities are that Greeks have indeed always been temperamental with considerable mood swings and a tendency for suspicion. There are hints of cryptical behaviour in the epics though and I would say that later and current Greeks are also notable for this (contrary to popular belief). Modern Greeks are less capable of objectivity or seeing the virtues of an enemy. The double, often contradictory approach to sex, where promiscuity and modesty collide, are an eternal trait of the Greek people. While it might be on the lower end of the western world spectrum on the matter, it is needless to say the woman’s status in the society has improved hugely. However, there is this common pattern that historically Greek women were often able to be much more influential or assertive than the laws or the “norms” expected them to be. Greeks have always loved their families fiercely. The next might come as a surprise but I firmly believe modern Christian Greeks are much less GENUINELY religious than Homeric and Archaic pagan Greeks were. Later Greeks (probably starting since late classical period and ever since) do not attribute nowhere near as much of their achievements and failures to a deity. The Greek approach to Christianity however is similar in the sense that there is an expectation of an immediate godly payback involved just like ancient people expected the favour of the gods with their sacrifices or appropriate behaviour. As time passed, Greeks became distinctly less and less interested in war and fights, despite always remaining argumentative. Modern Greece is a genuinely peaceful society that avoids confrontation but has some basic standards of good defensive preparation in case of bad need, while the ancient society was violating its own boundaries of peace very often and much more readily.

#greece #Ancient Greece #Homeric epics #Iliad #odyssey #Odysseus #Homeric age #archaic Greece #Homer #Greek culture #opinion

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mxtxfanatic · 2 years

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I think the reason why the age gap between Hua Cheng and Xie Lian exists in tgcf isn’t for fetish reasons but because it is an important part of their relationship arc and Hua Cheng’s character arc that they eventually stand as equals who are dependable to each other but not co-dependent.

In Xie Lian’s pre-second banishment life, we see Hua Cheng as Hong Hong’er the child, teen, the ghost flame, and then Wuming, all willing to sacrifice themself over and over again for Xie Lian’s benefit while Xie Lian… doesn’t even know who he is enough to follow up on his wellbeing. (Xie Lian is not concerned about some random child lmao.) We, the audience, know that Xie Lian is Hong Hong’er’s entire life even if the boy, himself, is just a blip in Xie Lian’s, and this devotion makes sense given the extreme power imbalances between them—age, class, and luck (in this story)—that start when an easily impressionable boy is saved by his idol that is like a god to him even before he becomes a literal one. But all Hong Hong’er gets for this devotion and extreme loyalty is death and the threat of his soul being dispersed multiple times. So when does that change? I’d say right after Wuming’s destruction and Xie Lian’s second banishment, when they are separated for the 800 years.

Wuming obviously doesn’t permanently die, but he is left in a state where he doesn’t truly know who he is and must make his way without the guiding light that was his self-destructive devotion to his god. We see (hear about tbh but this is a gripe for another post maybe) him literally growing into himself as a protector of the weak and someone willing to put himself on the line to save others, even when he doesn’t know them. Because, with or without Xie Lian in his life, Hua Cheng is good. Questionable at times, but still good. And while he is still undoubtably doing some things with Xie Lian in mind (creating an armory for him, fighting those gods who harassed Xie Lian, etc.) most of his life in his 800 years was his own in a way he didn’t have before he and Xie Lian separated. He is now the beloved ruler of a ghost realm in which he protects the creatures that the heavens seek to destroy simply for existing, and none of that is connected to him planning for a life with Xie Lian at all. In fact, he seems prepared to let Xie Lian go the moment Xie Lian gives the word (which he never does), something Hong Hong’er would never have considered.

So my point here is that we see Hong Hong’er literally and mentally grow up into Hua Cheng who can and wants to be Xie Lian’s equal rather than his permanent subordinate/worshipper/follower, because mxtx has never written a book with an age gap that didn’t explore the power imbalances and potential exploitations that come with it.

#tgcf #i think part of the problem here is tgcf does not do a good job of showing us wtf hc had been up to #outside of the obvious #we’re just kinda told near the endgame #but the book also just got an overhaul so maybe that was expanded upon #human metas mxtx

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publicdomainbooks · 2 years

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CHAPTER 2

THE MYSTERIOUS PARCHMENT

‘"I declare," cried my uncle, striking the table fiercely with his fist, "I declare to you it is Runic—and contains some wonderful secret, which I must get at, at any price."

I was about to reply when he stopped me.

"Sit down," he said, quite fiercely, "and write to my dictation."

I obeyed.

"I will substitute," he said, "a letter of our alphabet for that of the Runic: we will then see what that will produce. Now, begin and make no mistakes."

The dictation commenced with the following incomprehensible result:

mm.rnlls esruel seecJde sgtssmf unteief niedrke kt,samn atrateS Saodrrn emtnaeI nuaect rrilSa Atvaar .nscrc ieaabs ccdrmi eeutul frantu dt,iac oseibo KediiY

Scarcely giving me time to finish, my uncle snatched the document from my hands and examined it with the most rapt and deep attention.

"I should like to know what it means," he said, after a long period.

I certainly could not tell him, nor did he expect me to—his conversation being uniformly answered by himself.

"I declare it puts me in mind of a cryptograph," he cried, "unless, indeed, the letters have been written without any real meaning; and yet why take so much trouble? Who knows but I may be on the verge of some great discovery?"

My candid opinion was that it was all rubbish! But this opinion I kept carefully to myself, as my uncle's choler was not pleasant to bear. All this time he was comparing the book with the parchment.

"The manuscript volume and the smaller document are written in different hands," he said, "the cryptograph is of much later date than the book; there is an undoubted proof of the correctness of my surmise. [An irrefragable proof I took it to be.] The first letter is a double M, which was only added to the Icelandic language in the twelfth century—this makes the parchment two hundred years posterior to the volume."

The circumstances appeared very probable and very logical, but it was all surmise to me.

"To me it appears probable that this sentence was written by some owner of the book. Now who was the owner, is the next important question. Perhaps by great good luck it may be written somewhere in the volume."

With these words Professor Hardwigg took off his spectacles, and, taking a powerful magnifying glass, examined the book carefully.

On the fly leaf was what appeared to be a blot of ink, but on examination proved to be a line of writing almost effaced by time. This was what he sought; and, after some considerable time, he made out these letters:

"Arne Saknussemm!" he cried in a joyous and triumphant tone, "that is not only an Icelandic name, but of a learned professor of the sixteenth century, a celebrated alchemist."

I bowed as a sign of respect.

"These alchemists," he continued, "Avicenna, Bacon, Lully, Paracelsus, were the true, the only learned men of the day. They made surprising discoveries. May not this Saknussemm, nephew mine, have hidden on this bit of parchment some astounding invention? I believe the cryptograph to have a profound meaning—which I must make out."

My uncle walked about the room in a state of excitement almost impossible to describe.

"It may be so, sir," I timidly observed, "but why conceal it from posterity, if it be a useful, a worthy discovery?"

"Why—how should I know? Did not Galileo make a secret of his discoveries in connection with Saturn? But we shall see. Until I discover the meaning of this sentence I will neither eat nor sleep."

"My dear uncle—" I began.

"Nor you neither," he added.

It was lucky I had taken double allowance that day.

"In the first place," he continued, "there must be a clue to the meaning. If we could find that, the rest would be easy enough."

I began seriously to reflect. The prospect of going without food and sleep was not a promising one, so I determined to do my best to solve the mystery. My uncle, meanwhile, went on with his soliloquy.

"The way to discover it is easy enough. In this document there are one hundred and thirty-two letters, giving seventy-nine consonants to fifty-three vowels. This is about the proportion found in most southern languages, the idioms of the north being much more rich in consonants. We may confidently predict, therefore, that we have to deal with a southern dialect."

Nothing could be more logical.

"Now," said Professor Hardwigg, "to trace the particular language."

"As Shakespeare says, 'that is the question,"' was my rather satirical reply.

"This man Saknussemm," he continued, "was a very learned man: now as he did not write in the language of his birthplace, he probably, like most learned men of the sixteenth century, wrote in Latin. If, however, I prove wrong in this guess, we must try Spanish, French, Italian, Greek, and even Hebrew. My own opinion, though, is decidedly in favor of Latin."

This proposition startled me. Latin was my favorite study, and it seemed sacrilege to believe this gibberish to belong to the country of Virgil.

"Barbarous Latin, in all probability," continued my uncle, "but still Latin."

"Very probably," I replied, not to contradict him.

"Let us see into the matter," continued my uncle; "here you see we have a series of one hundred and thirty-two letters, apparently thrown pell-mell upon paper, without method or organization. There are words which are composed wholly of consonants, such as mm.rnlls, others which are nearly all vowels, the fifth, for instance, which is unteief, and one of the last oseibo. This appears an extraordinary combination. Probably we shall find that the phrase is arranged according to some mathematical plan. No doubt a certain sentence has been written out and then jumbled up—some plan to which some figure is the clue. Now, Harry, to show your English wit—what is that figure?"

I could give him no hint. My thoughts were indeed far away. While he was speaking I had caught sight of the portrait of my cousin Gretchen, and was wondering when she would return.

We were affianced, and loved one another very sincerely. But my uncle, who never thought even of such sublunary matters, knew nothing of this. Without noticing my abstraction, the Professor began reading the puzzling cryptograph all sorts of ways, according to some theory of his own. Presently, rousing my wandering attention, he dictated one precious attempt to me.

I mildly handed it over to him. It read as follows:

mmessunkaSenrA.icefdoK.segnittamurtn ecertserrette,rotaivsadua,ednecsedsadne lacartniiilrJsiratracSarbmutabiledmek meretarcsilucoYsleffenSnI.

I could scarcely keep from laughing, while my uncle, on the contrary, got in a towering passion, struck the table with his fist, darted out of the room, out of the house, and then taking to his heels was presently lost to sight.

#A Journey to the Centre of the Earth

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inexqlicable · 7 years

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If I could be like, a whole lot less terrified of my own happiness??? That’d be fantastic, thanks

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amiedala · 3 years

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SOMETHING DEEPER (a mandalorian story)

CHAPTER 1: There's Always Three Things

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: sexual content, hints of voyeurism

SUMMARY: HELLLOOOOOOOOOOO AND HAPPY SOMETHING DEEPER SATURDAY MY LOVES!!! this is the first chapter in Something Deeper, the

second installment in the Something More series. in this one, Nova is her established character, they're still trying to save the galaxy, and the spice is racketed up even hotter ;) more notes at the end, as always, and until then, ENJOY!!!

If you're a newcomer, my fic "Something More" is the first installment of this story! <3

AUTHOR’S NOTE: HELLO MY LOVES HAPPY SOMETHING MORE SATURDAY!!!! this chapter is quite the whirlwind, i hope you love it! more notes at the end as always <3

Novalise Djarin is absolutely certain of three things. One, that the strongest thing in this galaxy is the green alien baby she calls her son; two, that her gorgeous, commanding bounty hunter husband is an excellent leader but a fantastically horrible diplomat; and three, that she is by far the most skilled person she knows at getting out of a particularly sticky situation.

Nova is excellent at getting out of things, period—her husband would argue that she’s an expert at getting the both of them out of their clothes and Mandalorian armor, respectively—but she excels at somehow, miraculously, wriggling herself free from between a rock and a hard place. And, right now, the asteroid belt that makes up Polis Massa is the abundance of rock, and the TIE fighters right on the tail of Kicker’s infamously sporadic power is the hard place.

They’re relentless. Nova squints her eyes, making the starry backdrop of the Outer Rim split and fractal into a thousand more glittering balls of light. There’s only three of them, this time, but this is the closest they’ve ever dared to follow her to Mandalore, and there’s something dangerous and electric kicking around somewhere inside of her chest. They keep shooting, jarring bolts of blasts that do their best to try and knock down Kicker’s very stubborn shields.

“Stupid,” Nova whispers, her breath low, the ghost of a smile stretching across her face, even in the crush of space. A year ago, she wouldn’t have recognized herself—this fearless, feisty pilot, the fully-formed reconstruction of the girl she used to be. On the ground, even with the Force on her side, she’s clumsy, an amateur. But up here? This is where Novalise shines. She has the upper hand out in the stars, and, besides, even if she were being chased by an artillery of a hundred more, there’s reinforcements on her old, lovable beater of a starship.

“Surrender,” one of the mechanical, ordered voices comes over the comm, and Nova giggles to herself in the darkness.

“Does that ever work?” she asks, flipping the right switches to make Kicker drop down and over itself, sending one of the fighters careening into the nearest asteroid. It doesn’t deter whoever’s in the cockpit for long, but it’s enough to utilize her infamous barrel roll to twist up and away from the other two fighters close in tow. “You know, asking impolitely for whoever you’re chasing to surrender?”

Silence. Nova smiles again, biting her teeth down against the fullness of her bottom lip. Her stomach grumbles. It was a sleepless night and a long day she spent back on Hoth before making the short trek back home—Mandalore, which isn’t the kindest of planets to call your own but is undoubtably better than some of the other alternatives—and the broth-based soups and dried legumes that frequent the base there are not nearly as filling or delicious as the feasts that being Mandalorian royalty entail. Still nothing from the other fighters, which is perfectly fine, because she’s about to feign dropping into warp and leading through a wormhole that’ll lead nowhere but the barrenness of the Mid Rim, but usually, they’re much more demanding.

“Surrender,” comes the voice again, and Nova sighs, cracking her neck, readjusting the familiar, worn helmet still stamped with the orange Rebel insignia. Kicker beeps angrily, and she lends a soft hand to the worn metal of her beloved ship’s dashboard, coaxing the metal to just go a tiny bit further.

“I’m just saying, you might have a stroke more of luck if you’re a little bit nicer. Less demanding, more asking. Who am I surrendering to?” she asks, and even though the TIE fighters are still volleying an array of blasts at the back end of the starfighter, they’re not quick to identify themselves. Nova squints again, catching a glimpse of one of them as she swoops to avoid a larger chunk of asteroid. It was stupid to come here, she admits internally to herself, even though it makes her heart drop a tiny bit inside of her chest. All she wanted for the hours she spent on Hoth was to get back to Din, to hold Grogu against her heartbeat for as long as she could before she reluctantly had to relinquish him to the one and only Luke Skywalker, but when Wedge called, it seemed urgent. “Hello?” she whispers, only to dare the strange, affected voice on the commlink to rattle back across the stars.

“Andromeda Maluev,” the comm blurts, and the sound of her name—her birth name, still heavy and pearlescent with the weight of losing her parents—makes Nova’s heart drop even further. Everyone left in this galaxy that Nova associates with—Din Djarin, Luke Skywalker, Wedge Antilles, Bo-Katan Kryze, Boba Fett, Cara Dune, Greef Karga, and every person she met along her trip with Din through the galaxy and back—knows that Andromeda Maluev is dead, and that Novalise Djarin rose from her ashes. But every single bounty Nova’s had on her head has slammed that full weight of her first identity back into her bones, like a brand, like something she can’t escape. It makes the force of people after her—the shadowy legion of the obscured First Order, and all of their cronies—feel just a bit more insidious.

“Not my name,” she volleys back, but the brace in Nova’s voice doesn’t sound like anything dangerous, anything sharp enough scare them off. “I’ve ran into enough of you by now for you to get it right.”

“We’ve got you surrounded. Surrender or be killed.”

Nova snorts. There’s three fighters on her tail, and they’re nowhere close to surrounding her. It’s so ludicrous, so unexpected, that the laugh catapults out of her mouth and echoes in the small hull of Kicker. She wishes Din and Grogu were here to equally share in her utter disbelief—she can practically see the helmet cocking and the baby’s giant, intuitive eyes crinkling—but she dodges another set of shots, which are almost completely aimless and hardly land on the tail end of the ship. “Be killed?” she repeats, swerving and ducking through another large chunk of asteroid, seamlessly, barely paying any attention to the terrain around her. She doesn’t need to. Even in a field this littered, space is Nova’s strongest suit. She could do this with her eyes closed. “As far as I can see, you’ve landed what, three shots? I don’t think you’ll be getting anywhere near close enough to even do damage to my ship. You’re three fighters strong, and one of you has a wounded wing. And you still haven’t answered my question.”

“The First Order demands your services.”

Nova’s blood runs ice-cold. It’s a familiar request at this point, but still, the name sends a very real shiver all the way down her spine, rocking and rattling her vertebrae. She swallows, blinking furiously, avoiding the tailspin of a smaller asteroid as she lurches out of the chase. That wasn’t the lowly voice of some sorry stormtrooper that got the shitty job of trying to wrangle her out of the skies. It sounds evil. Dark. Mirthless. It wasn’t Moff Gideon’s voice, but it was something close to the memory of the dark timbre of it. Fear forms wet and cold on the back of her neck, curling up through the bottom of her hairline, seeping underneath the warmth of her standard, Rebel-orange jumpsuit. She swallows, but the air feels like it’s evaporating out of her mouth.

“The First Order,” she manages, finally, trying to detach the nervousness from her voice, “will not be getting my services. Not now, not ever.”

It’s only been two weeks since Din’s coronation. Two hectic, packed weeks in which her big, brave bounty hunter boyfriend got forcibly turned into a very reluctant diplomat under the watchful—and perhaps slightly resentful—eye of Bo-Katan Kryze. Din never seemed to really need sleep the way a normal human being did, but Nova watched as the bags under his eyes darkened and grew as he spent long hours in the war rooms, buried somewhere in the giant, stark palace they’d moved into, eyelids pressed into the warm hollow of her neck in the early hours of the morning when he made it to bed at all. In the meantime, Nova was spending every single precious second of her waking hours with Grogu, who she knows is on the verge of needing to go back to Jedi training, trying to absorb as much of his small, green light as she possibly can. When Wedge called the other day, though, he sounded desperate, which didn’t happen often, and she had wrenched herself away from her family on Mandalore to try and stop the impending doom of the First Order on Hoth, but it had been yet another dead end. Polis Massa was a pit stop—an impulsive, foolish one—because Nova ran furiously out of the library archives the last time she was here, and she wanted to pick up books on the history of Mandalore for Din and herself, and a small star of yearning in her chest was to spend a little more time in the shelves like her father used to before the Empire killed him.

And as much as Nova wants to put Andromeda Maluev to rest, longing for the days when she was tiny and growing up on Yavin with her parents alive and happy beside her outweighs the alternative. She swallows through the lump in her throat and closes her eyes to shake the starshine of her past lives away. The time to focus on getting the hell out of here is now, all yearning and ache can blossom fully formed when she’s away from the reaches of the First Order, safely back on Mandalore.

“Surrender,” the voice says again, only this time it is the timbre of some sorry stormtrooper and not the one that still haunts her nightmares, and Nova sighs, flipping all of the switches on Kicker’s dashboard to feint left and fake drop into hyperspace.

“I’ll ask you again. When,” she exhales, straightening up in the pilot’s chair, “has that line ever worked?”

“We are granted permission to obliterate your starfighter under Order Number—”

“Obliterate?” Nova interrupts, stifling another giggle. “Is the Order giving you vocabulary lessons? I’m impressed, trooper—”

“Andromeda Maluev,” the voice comes again, and Nova tries her absolute hardest to ignore the pulsing and aching in her heart that comes with the punch of her previous identity, “you are to surrender to the First Order. Failure to comply will result in termination. This is your final warning.”

Nova sighs, pulling Kicker to a temporary halt. If she stares, the ghostly outline of Mandalore, embedded forever in her memory, will flash in front of her vision, even out here in Polis Massa’s gigantic asteroid belt. She knows that the troopers, whoever they are, whoever they’re working for, will understand that she’s intending to go straight back to the strange palace she’s started calling home, but she also knows that any force in this galaxy, no matter how dark, no matter how strong, is smart enough to know they can’t take on a planet full of Mandalorian warriors without all the strength they’ve got. From the way Kicker is paused in the middle of space, she knows it looks like she’s about to surrender, or at least like she’s weighing her options heavily, and the satisfied, smug silence of the trooper on the other end of the commlink is enough to assure herself that her plan—hasty and rash as it may be—is working.

“Okay,” she whispers, feigning resignation, into the comm. “I understand I’m dealing with forces a lot stronger than I am. I don’t surrender, but I’ll come with you. But first,” she whispers, silencing the clicking that the switches to go into hyperdrive with the muffler of her right hand, “I need to tell you something.”

There’s a pause. “So be it. Reeling you in via tractor beam now.”

The unmistakable whirring of a ship forcibly being dragged onto another’s power starts up, and Nova swallows, pushing the second to last toggle into place, keeping a steady eye on the rocketing meter on her dashboard that indicates the ship is fully charged. Under the noise of Kicker being pulled into the largest TIE fighter’s proximity, the beeping goes unnoticed by the other party. Nova slips her hand off the switch and finds the necklace Din gifted her back before he accepted his role of Mand’alor, pressing hard enough that the symbol embosses itself into her thumbprint. “First of all,” she starts, trying her hardest to keep her voice level and even and not reveal a single ounce of the glee that she’s concealing, “my name hasn’t been Andromeda Maluev in a decade. You want me to answer to you, to answer to the Order? You’ll call me Novalise.”

The sigh from the trooper is short, clipped. “Noted.”

“Second,” Nova continues, leveling her jaw with the center of the dashboard, watching every single thruster lock itself into gear, “I am married to the galaxy’s most ruthless bounty hunter. It’s going to take a hell of a lot more than the word surrender to scare me into submission.”

Kicker grinds to a halt in midair. Nova straps herself in tighter, just enough to ensure that she won’t be sent reeling across the perfectly aligned dashboard when she breaks free of the tractor beam and shoots Kicker straight into the stars, back to Mandalore, back to Din, back home, and steels herself.

“Stop,” another voice says, tinny and nervous over the speaker. “She’s—she’s screwing with us, sir—”

“I’m assuming,” the original trooper speaks, trying to intimidate Nova with the ice in his voice, “that there’s a third thing?”

“Oh, there’s always a third thing,” Nova volleys back, eyes catching the light of what’s been powering up the entire time the troopers thought she was weighing her options and deciding the First Order’s clutches sounded warm and delightful, after all. “Not only am I a commander in the New Rogue Squadron, not only am I the wife of the reigning Mand’alor, I contain multitudes.” She grins, her teeth bared and gleeful in the low light of space, knowing this is by far the most badass exit she’s ever attempted. “And do you know what that means?”

The trooper in the largest fighter sounds defeated. This was barely even a scratch compared to the narrow scrapes Nova’s been entangled with before. She bites down on her bottom lip, cracking her neck, taking advantage of Kicker’s stationary position to break free of the tractor beam, and as the angry clamor of the three troopers in the fighters trying to reel the ship in starts to filter across the commlink, Nova does what she does best.

She barrel rolls the entirety of Kicker, flipping downward and over so that she’s facing the three fighters, staring through her Rebel helmet at the floodlights drenching her whole ship in florescence that shouldn’t be possible in space, and shows every single one of her teeth, smile stretched so far across her face that it hurts, “My starfighter is Rebel-made, sure, but it’s gotten a few upgrades in the past few weeks. The only reason you got this far was because I was waiting to unload the artillery loaded up in the guns that are pointed at you right now. And you know what they’re made of?”

“All aim to kill—”

Nova can’t resist. She tries, but this whole royalty thing, the whole leading the New Rogue Squadron thing, this whole being a Jedi thing—well, all of it has been tallied up enough to recognize she can stand to be the tiniest bit cocky to the people trying to kill her or bring her in as a slave. She raises a single middle finger, making sure that the pilot of the largest fighter catches her elongated, elegant bird with the floodlights. “Same thing as my resolve is. Beskar, bitch.” And with that, she punches all the thrusters, Kicker dazzling and evaporating through hyperspace, gone before the first trigger even pulls.

Mandalore is quiet. There’s a strange serenity that lives on the horizon, pulsing and shifting, but never quite tangible from the planet’s surface. It’s hard to look at the place where the greatest warriors in the galaxy are born and bred and not see anything but a whetted, sharp arena, but so much of this planet is soft around the edges. The blue architecture in the capital, for one—something Nova knows is much newer than the ancient history of the land here—and there’s a silence here that teeters on eerie but mostly stays in a strange sense of tranquility.

It doesn’t hold the feeling of abandonment, like so many other planets do these days, but it seems like the rest of the world around the city is disconnected. Inhabitable. Nova parks Kicker in the nearest landing bay, watching the strange haze that hangs over the atmosphere, trying to find other places where lights are lit, where people live, but so much of the planet is quiet. It’s the same sort of stark contrast that Yavin had when her and Din got engaged all those months ago, or Hoth’s anesthetic brutality, but Mandalore’s environment feels different.

And, Nova reasons, as she disembarks off Kicker’s gangplank, running the tips of her fingers over the Rebel insignia hidden under the outermost coat of white and silver detailing, it’s likely because this isn’t home. Not yet, anyway, and it might never have that feeling of belonging that the Crest did, that Kicker does, that her and Din found on Naator and Kashyyyk and Nevarro. Nova climbs the marble steps to the palace, smiling at the stoic Mandalorians stationed outside as she slips up the stairs and through the main entrance, immediately cutting sideways up the hallways to the left, watching as her shadow traipses behind her in the blue dusk, trying to not stake stock of the silence that most of the building holds. In true Mandalorian fashion, their holding cells are built into the palace itself, alongside training arenas and the war room where Din spends most of his time. Nova moves as quietly as she can through the halls, up the other marble staircase, and when she bursts into the chambers twice the size of the starship that she and Din usually call home, a gurgle from Grogu on the floor makes the entire day turn around.

Nova grins, dropping to her knees. Grogu beams up at her, his big bug eyes full of nothing but love, and she scoops him up, pressing his tiny, warm body against her chest. It chases away all the chill of Hoth and the crush of space, and for a second, she just runs her fingers over the top of his fuzzy head, pressing kisses to his green skin, soaking in every second she can.

“I missed you, lovey,” she murmurs, and Grogu’s giant green ears perk up. “What did you do in your day here?”

Grogu pulls away from her chest, pressing a three-fingered hand against Nova’s temple. The visions that used to terrify her, the ones Grogu put into her head, filled with screaming and loss and desperation, fall away as he shows her the bath he took, the feast he got for dinner, sitting on Din’s lap while in the war room. As he drops his touch, Nova grins down at him, all teeth and excitement, all of the panic and isolation of the last few hours melting away.

“He terrorized Bo-Katan,” a familiar voice rings out from behind her, and Nova pushes herself up on the heels of her hands, her heart flipping over with the same butterfly menagerie Din’s always given her. “I didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop.”

“Hi,” Nova whispers, giddy, watching as Din steps forward out of the shadows. It doesn’t matter how many times she’s been lucky enough to gaze over his handsome face, it doesn’t matter that he’s been spending more time helmetless here on Mandalore, every time she sees him, it’s like the first time. In the moonlight, obscured by the permafrost of Mandalore’s blue twilight, Nova’s eyes roam over the valleys and mountains of her husband’s face. His hair is the length it was when he proposed, long enough for the ends to curl up gently. His mouth, even in the near darkness, is pink and gorgeous, his lips slightly parted in the unconscious way they do when Nova’s the only thing in his eyeline. His scruff is there, long enough to scratch her chin—or her thighs—up something terrible, and the ghost of the mustache she used to feel in the dark is strong, dark, manicured. His eyelashes are longer than the length of her thumbnails, and his eyes, his gorgeous brown eyes, soften around the edges the second Nova smiles.

“Hi,” Din echoes, bridging the gap between the two of them with two quick strides, and Nova feels her breath catch in her throat. Din’s hands, gloved in black and twice the size of her own, balance on the curve of her hips, his fingers digging into the loops of her orange jumpsuit, pulling Nova over her own feet, anchoring her body right up against hers. The way he kisses after only being separated overnight is desperate, longing, filled with words he doesn’t always know how to say. Nova leans into his embrace, head fuzzy, waterlogged, like everything else fades away. It does. She loses track of time, how many minutes pass, the stars behind her eyes dazzling, supernovae, regenerated.

When they break apart, Nova’s hand trails over the regalia Din’s wearing. It’s his familiar beskar, the armor he’s worn since they first met, but it’s been cleaned, and underneath, where his typical black undergarments used to cling to his build, he’s wearing Mandalore blue. It’s the color of the skyline at dusk, a faded azure that signals something more than warrior, something a shade closer to royalty. The material is lightweight, practical. It’s the same kind that every single one of her matching outfits are made out of—Mandalorians don’t have much use for aesthetic, it just gets in the way of practicality—but it seems more vibrant on Din. “How was today?” she whispers into the hollow of his mouth, and Din exhales, low and slow, tipping his bare forehead against hers.

“Long without you,” he admits, his voice barely anything. Nova’s eyes search his deep brown ones, trying to figure out where his exhaustion is hiding. “Come with me. I—I want to show you something.”

Nova nods, catching sight of the dirty orange jumpsuit stretched over her tan trousers, the black tank top she’d spent the past year replacing every time Din tore it off of her body. “I should change.”

Din’s eyes flick hungrily over her silhouette, and when he speaks again, his voice is husky. “No,” he says, finally, digging his thumb slightly into the flesh on her hip, “you shouldn’t.”

The trek downstairs is quiet. Both of them move in the shadows, lulled into an easy silence, their hands knitted together in between their two bodies. Nova watches as the low light of the corridor flickers as they cross over another staircase and down a side hallway, entering through the war room by the back entrance instead of the front, even though there’s no one left in here to try to hide from.

Nova’s been in here at least ten times, but the decoration steals the breath straight out of her mouth every time. A glittering holotable, top of the line, at least twenty years more advanced than the one on Hoth, sits in the direct center. The ceiling looks more like a cathedral than it does anything else, which is perfectly fitting for a group of people who treat fighting as their religion. Nova looks up through the sheer domed ceiling, watching as the moody dusk falls into a silent, quiet night. Stars dazzle and shine from above, and even though they’re not nearly as poignant and powerful down here as they are out in space, the direct line to the cosmos is bright enough to make her throat ache. “Wow,” Nova whispers, voice barely anything at all, staring straight upward, mapping constellations under her breath. Eventually, her eyes slide off of the ceiling, traveling over the careful architecture, the shrines in the corners, the murals painstakingly hand-painted across the circular walls, all of beskar and helmets and Mandalorian history. It feels so ancient, even though the palace was recently rebuilt, reconstructed from nothing during both of their lifetimes. She’s been in here a handful of times before, but never as night is on the horizon. There’s something transcendent about this place, this holy center of Mandalorian worship. Something deeper, something divine enough to make a Jedi believe in them, too.

Din’s standing across the other end of the holotable, fidgeting with the controls until a map of the galaxy sparkles to life in front of them. Through the light, Nova watches the peaks of her husband’s face getting caught in the reflections, letting everything except his face blur out to stardust. “Did you get anything from Wedge?” he asks, and Nova blinks her eyes to refocus on the map. “Anything new? Anything…useful?”

Quietly, Nova shakes her head. “He thought—he called me back to Hoth because of a prison break in one of the sectors Cara doesn’t have jurisdiction in, or I’d suspect she’d have already taken care of it. It was small, just a few criminals with nothing more than petty charges breaking out of a hold somewhere, but he thought it might be related to—”

“The First Order?”

“Me,” Nova finishes, quietly. Her eyes narrow just a fraction, refocusing on Din’s silhouette through the glitter of the galaxy between them. “Yeah, the Order. We couldn’t prove anything, but I—”

“You feel something is coming,” Din interrupts gently, stealing the words right out of her mouth, bracing his strong, gloved hands on the side of the holotable, and Nova nods, watching his grip, starting to get a little dizzy, with lust or with the reflections above them or both. “Don’t you?”

“I do,” she echoes, confirming his theory. “I—I took a detour coming back here. I went to Polis Massa, to try and return to the library archives so I could learn more about Mandalore and bring you back something other than a dead end.”

Din stares at her, his face partially hidden in the glow of the rotating image of the holotable. “You brought yourself back here,” he says, finally, and Nova’s knees buckle a little under the husk of his voice. “It’s hard to care about much else.”

Nova bites down on her lip, butterflies swirling up a storm inside her tummy. “Din,” she whispers, leaning forward on the table, cocking her head in the signature way he always does, lifting her chin slightly with the tilt, “we are tasked with the incredible privilege of saving the galaxy, you know—”

“Fuck the galaxy,” Din breathes, and despite the fact that what he’s wanting to shirk is their top priority, and really has been for months, it buzzes inside Nova, wet and hot. “Let someone else handle it for once. I don’t care.”

“You do care,” she protests, weakly, but his tongue slides out from the hollow of his mouth, and everything else seems to evaporate. “I know—fuck, I don’t know, I know you missed me when I left overnight, I know we’ve been apart more than we’ve been together, but it’s for good reason, and when we save, y’know, the whole galaxy and everything, it…it’ll be all the time in the world for the two of us.”

“I’m impatient,” Din counters, roughly, and then he’s around the table in three quick, determined strides. Nova sighs, letting her body crumple a little as Din moves forward, his hands on her hips, anchoring her pelvis against his. “Don’t make me wait any more for you, cyar’ika, I won’t be able to stand it.”

Nova inhales sharply, feeling him harden against her leg, and she lifts her chin a touch more, enough for their lips to only be an inch apart, enough to make eye contact, enough for all of this to let the rest of the world fade right out. “You know,” she whispers, finally, blood pumping furiously, “you’re the leader of this planet. You could order me to do anything, and I’d be helpless to do anything but comply.”

Din lets out a groan, low and desperate, a choked off, guttural one. “And if I told you I wanted you right here on this table?”

Nova grins, her teeth glittering against the quickening darkness, pulling away only to drape herself over the holotable, face down, letting the spots where her body occupies the space filter out of the reflection. The glow of the lights is disrupted by her figure, and she hears Din’s voice catch in the dark behind her as she arches her back, still fully clothed, an invitation for him to come closer, to take what’s rightfully his. “Then you’d have me right here on this table, Mand’alor.”

She feels Din press up against her, hard against the soft, voluptuous curve of her ass. He inhales, heavily, she can hear it whine through the darkness, not hidden under the evenness of the modulator built into his helmet. Nova knows she’s an expert at getting out of things—sticky situations, clothes, everything in between—but right now, she wants to make Din wait beg for it before she complies. Something to prove that even while he’s the one on the throne, her neck is holding up the crown. At least here. Especially here.

“And if I told you I wanted to fuck you on the floor?”

“Then you’d take me on the floor, Mand’alor. I quite like the floor, you know.”

“You—” Din’s breath cuts off again, and Nova lets the timbre of his voice soak into her. It turns her heart over, first, that excitement tangling up with the knowledge that she’ll let him do anything. It’s been over a week since the last time they fucked, because he’s been spending most of his time in this room, trying to prove to the rest of the planet that he’s worthy enough to hold the throne, and she’s been splitting her time between Grogu and saving the galaxy. All of them necessary evils, deserving distractions, but it’s nearly impossible to think about anything other than the feel of Din up against Nova, his mouth on her neck, his hands on her hips, concerned only with burying himself as deep into her as he possibly can. “I brought you down here to show you the stars. You’re distracting me.”

Nova smiles, then braces her palms on top of the holotable, pushing herself up, gliding her body backwards up against her husband’s. “What an honor,” she purrs, quiet, low, the same kind of voice Din always uses when he wants her so badly it hurts to breathe, “that the king of Mandalore thinks I am a suitable distraction.”

“Novalise.”

“Use me as a distraction, then,” Nova continues, taking hold of one of Din’s gloved hands, guiding them against the curve of her chest, making sure he feels how her nipples harden under his touch, a soft, mewling sound with her mouth completely indicative of the flush of warmth rushing between her legs. “Show me anything you want, oh worthy Mand’alor, please—”

Her breath is cut off as Din whirls her around by her throat. It’s sudden, desperate, the kind of electricity he used to greet her with whenever he finally tracked down the bounty he was hunting and could let loose with her on the Crest.

“Get on,” Din starts, voice raggedly, both hands clenching against Nova’s cheeks, puckering her lips, “the fucking throne, cyar’ika.”

“The—throne?” Nova repeats, breathless. “You want—”

“I want to fuck you on my throne,” Din interrupts, and stars above, she can feel the way that his cock is throbbing in his pants, through the regalia, through the beskar, all of it. “You said anything I want. I want to make you scream my name on the planet we rule while I’m seven inches inside of you. That work for you?”

Nothing but a strangled moan comes out.

Din nods. “Good. Get over there.”

Nova reels back as he releases her. It takes more than a few seconds to collect herself enough to move, and when she does, her legs feel like they’re made out of rubber, elastic and wobbly. She can feel his heavy gaze on her as she makes her way around the holotable, and when she takes the few steps that lead to the ironclad, menacing chair that sits atop the highest point in the room, Din’s voice rings out.

“Stop,” he commands, and she does, feeling her heart hammer. “Face me.”

Nova turns, her breath caught in her throat, staring down at Din. The few steps she’s scaled make her just a tad taller than Din is, and she watches as he slowly moves forward, crossing the tile of the floor with quiet, intentional steps.

“Take your clothes off,” Din manages, and Nova’s almost a hundred percent sure that he’s whispering, even though it might just be that she can’t hear anything over how loud her blood is pumping, over how hard her heart is hammering.

“Now?”

He raises a single dark eyebrow, and Nova nods, trying to peel off her shirt and her trousers as fast as she can. She kicks off her shoes, and they land at the bottom of the steps with a very incriminating thud, but Din just kicks them out of the way as he presses the soles of his beskar boots deliberately against the tile. Everything in here is blue and reflective, even after night has fallen on Mandalore, and Nova catches sight of her silhouette in the floor. Her breath stutters in her throat, suddenly very aware that she’s completely naked and Din, save for his forgotten helmet, is fully clothed, but with the way his eyes are roving over her body like he’s starving and she’s the only thing in this galaxy or the next that can satiate it, she forgets how to care.

“You,” he starts, trailing a single gloved finger down the curve of her body, “are so beautiful.”

“Stop,” she whispers, smiling, everything burning and in flames. It’s the opposite of what she means—she never wants Din to stop calling her beautiful, stop revering her, stop treating her like something holy—but when they’re in a public room that just about anyone left on this planet can walk on, and she’s the only one naked, the risk burns hotter than her desire. “Din, I—”

His finger is on her lips before Nova even realizes he’s moved. “Do you believe me?”

Nova blinks, stuttering over the dying words hidden somewhere between her teeth and the back of her throat. The answer is yes, because Din Djarin never utters a single word that he doesn’t mean, because he uses so few of them to begin with, and also because he’s seen every single inch of her body and worshipped it, but in this reflective room, usually full of figures so much more athletic, razor-sharp, warrior-grade, a tiny bead of insecurity spools down the back of her neck. Nervously, Nova’s gaze filters off of Din’s, flicking over to the ornate door on the other side of the room, and when she looks back, he’s staring at her.

“Nova?” he repeats, gently, and something about the way he’s saying it makes tears spring up in her eyes. “Here. Come here. Look at yourself.”

She lets him guide her over to the throne, which is made out of the shiniest, most reflective beskar she’s ever seen, polished so effortlessly it doubles as a mirror, and Din pulls curls of her dark hair away from her collarbone, fingers grazing the new necklace he gifted her, one hand curling around her jaw, the other sliding down the side of her body.

“Look at yourself,” Din repeats, his touch still so light, and when Nova doesn’t immediately obey, his grip tightens. Not hard, just filled with enough desire to snap her back to her senses—that he took her into this room to fuck her senseless, that his eyes don’t meet anyone else’s, that Din Djarin isn’t a pious man in any other capacity than his Creed and all the rules he broke to worship Nova instead. She relaxes under his touch, her eyes glazing as they travel over the valleys of her naked body. Her skin doesn’t glow in the darkness like it does during the daylight, but it’s a rich brown, three or so shades darker than Din’s. Her eyes, a deep sage green that dips into brown in the darkness, glitter as they flash against the beskar. Her eyelashes, dark and tangled up in the corners from where her laughter lines are. Her nose, not as prominent as Din’s hooked, curved one, but big, slightly upturned, and anchored in the center of her face. Her mouth, plump and perma-stained deep pink from where she bites hard on it in concentration. Her hair, so long now that it trails down to where her curved hipbones protrude, woven into a deeper curl than the natural wave of her hair from the braids it’s always tied back in. Din’s hand on her hip clenches gently at his knuckles, and she lets her gaze shift off of her face, down the stocky muscles of her upper arms, slightly sore from twirling Grogu around and from flying out of her skirmish with the TIE fighters. Her hands are long and elegant, princess fingers, her mother used to call them, dainty and slender, nails kept short to flip all the necessary switches on whatever vessel she’s flying, thumbs worn down with callouses from fighting and twirling Luke’s lightsaber around for the last two weeks, trying to conjure the power he radiates on her own. Down the left side of her tummy, which is rounded and collects weight around her bellybutton, is the scar that Jacterr Calican left in an attempt to rip her soul out of her body, and Din’s finger traces over the bump of it, gentle, endearing, protective. Her hips, which are wide, the curves of her upper legs, the muscles that pack on more weight in her calves. Nova looks at herself and sees, just for a glimpse, just for a split second, that sure, she’s not shaped like a Mandalorian, but she’s certainly desired by one. Din pulls her hair back from where it’s settled against her throat, pressing his lips to her skin.

“What do you see?” he murmurs, his voice deep and electric.

“The girl you love,” Nova whispers, grinning at him in their reflections. Din spins her back around, much gentler than he did a minute ago, all the fire gone, his eyes gentle like the oceans on Yavin.

“Damn right,” Din affirms, the timbre of his voice in her ear making goosebumps spark up across Nova’s bare arms. “Now get on the throne.”

She’s giddy. Her heart is, as usual, racing a thousand beats per minute, threatening to hammer right out of her chest. It’s cold—the throne—cool to the touch. As Nova slowly slides down onto the beskar, she watches Din’s brown eyes flash with lust and longing, and his look alone is enough to take away the chill against her bare skin. The beskar warms to her touch, and she crosses one thick thigh over the other, trying to quell the nervousness that’s still whining at the back of her mind.

“Don’t look at the door,” Din orders, his head cocked to the side. It’s been a few months now since Nova’s seen every single contour of his face, but every new expression not hidden behind the helmet makes her stomach lurch up into her throat. Right now, she can see the tenseness of his command in his clenched jaw, but his eyes soften as they roam over her body. “Look at me.”

“Din—”

“Look at me.”

Nervously, she does. The second her eyes meet his, everything else fades away. In the back of her mind, she’s aware that she’s completely naked, her skin up and against something divine, something not meant for her, this throne that she’s about to be desecrated on.

And sweet Maker above, she doesn’t even care. Din slowly canvasses the distance between the two of them, the intensity of his gaze never once wavering off of Nova’s face. The pure look of animalistic desire on his unmasked face makes her whimper under her breath. If she were weaker, she would cower away, avert her eyes, but by this point, she’s earned her brazenness. There are exactly two things in this galaxy that the ruler of Mandalore, the most ruthless bounty hunter, and the man in front of her would do anything for. Grogu and Nova.

He doesn’t make a noise. Everything is an electric wire as he finds his secure, silent footing on the first step, and Nova’s heart catches in her throat. She wants to say something, to make a silly comment, to cut through the tension, but she knows that whatever’s about to follow Din’s ascent will be worth her quiet. Instead, Nova bites down on her trembling lip, watching the rest of the throne room disappear as Din steps closer, still not making a single noise, pulling his body weight up the lip of each step, staring at her.

“What?” she manages, finally, the word all air.

Din moves closer. Nova’s seated against the throne, the beskar suddenly warm against her bare skin. Everything in her is burning. “What do you want?” Din asks, his voice deep, rumbling through her like a honeyed thunderstorm. He doesn’t even have the modulator to filter his words, and even though the deepness of his voice through the helmet runs rivers through her, Nova’s suddenly glad for the bareness of all of this. It makes it easier, dirtier, better.

“I want you,” Nova manages, hollowly, the words surrender out of her parted lips. “Just you.”

“You want me?” Din repeats, and a flash of lust sparks up behind his beautiful brown eyes. There’s something dangerous in his tone, something deeper, something electric. She stares at him, unwilling to break his gaze. If it were anyone else, Nova would think that the timbre of Din’s voice was teasing, but the edge to it suggests towards pleading.

“Yes,” Nova echoes, and Din moves forward, towering over her. She stares up at him as one gloved hand easily notches against her right cheek, eyelashes fluttering as the pad of Din’s fabric-laden thumb traces over the mountain of her cheekbone. “I want you, Mand’alor—”

“I’m not Mand’alor right now, cyar’ika,” Din interrupts, his voice low and ragged, sparking somewhere in his throat. “Look at who’s on the throne.”

Nova gulps. Air is suddenly impossible to come by. Everything in her is electric, alive. Everything else fades out except for Din’s touch. Her doubt, her insecurity—it’s all been chased away and zapped into obliteration by the way Din’s speaking, touching, breathing. “I—”

“Say my name,” Din says, hooking his free hand under Nova’s chin. She swallows, letting the roughness of his gesture manipulate her body in any way that he wants, pliable against Din’s weathered hands. “Say you want me.”

“Din,” Nova squeaks out, and a single one of his dark eyebrows quirks up against the celestial darkness of the throne room, daring her to speak. “Din Djarin,” Nova rectifies, her voice suddenly loud and clear. It booms out, fills the throne room with sound. For once, the buzzing in her head completely drowns out her fear of being discovered. This palace doesn’t exist. Anyone walking the strange, ornate, blue halls doesn’t exist. Stars above, Mandalore itself doesn’t exist at this point. She’s emboldened, as if her will has flooded back, full-force. “Three things. There’s always three things included in how I want you. I want you without armor. I want you without titles. I want you like I had you back on Dagobah.”

“And how,” Din whispers, his voice running through Nova like heat, “is that?”

She gasps as Din’s hand slowly slips down to her throat, bracing itself there. He barely squeezes, and without all of her senses screaming at her that Din’s hand is against her, she thinks his touch would feel like a ghost, like nothing there at all. “Like we belong to each other,” Nova manages, and Din’s grip intensifies. It’s a slip. She can tell, with the way that his eyes roll back, with the way that a moan slips out from the hollow of his open mouth. Stars blur through her vision—some refracted from the open sky up above, and some from the restriction to her airflow, and she leans into the pressure just as Din retracts his grip.

“Cyar’ika—”

“I belong to you,” Nova whispers, the words sounding like a confessional, deeper and darker than she intended. Her hands find Din’s, wordlessly pulling his hand back to rest like a vice against her throat. “Everything in me is yours. Remember?”

Din squeezes again, and the grin that was hiding slowly spreads across Nova’s face. She knows that in the darkness, her teeth glow white, framed by the plump pinkness of her mouth. Din’s standing, still fully clothed, but she can tell by the way his grip tightens against her throat that he’s rock hard under all that beskar.

“Din,” she manages, her voice high and thready through the pressure of his hand, “what do you want?”

“I want you,” he chokes out, guttural and dangerous, his voice coming from somewhere beyond the horizon. Immediately, he pulls Nova to her feet by her throat, eyes flickering carefully over her own gaze to double-check that what he’s doing isn’t too far. She smiles back at him, and when she’s fully standing, smile still plastered across her starstruck face, she drops her grip on Din’s wrist and immediately moves to unhook his armor. She could do it in the dark. She could do it blind. By now, Nova’s memorized every single inch of Din’s body, whether he’s armored in all of his beskar or not. Even the new additions to his regalia since becoming Mand’alor are burned into Nova’s memory, bright and gleaming. She doesn’t break Din’s gaze as she undresses him, pulling the pauldrons off, the chest plates, the silver V of covering that protects his lower stomach and his crotch. It’s over in what feels like seconds, and then the only thing covering Din is the soft fabric of his underclothes. Nova tugs at his trousers first, pulling them down to reveal the silky feeling of his boxers. She positions herself in between Din’s legs, grabbing his right hip to anchor his hardness against her, and he groans out again, the desperate, wet sound filling up the throne room. It's loud. Too loud. The kind of loud that Din never reaches, not unless they’re the only two people on a planet, not unless they’re lost out there in the crush of space. If his cheeks redden at the sound, though, Nova doesn’t catch it, because her touch is too focused, her vision still spinning off starry, impassioned, loud. Slowly, she reaches up through Din’s weakening grip to pull the shirt off of his torso, breath catching in her throat as she takes the King of Mandalore without armor, without clothes, without anything. Nova smiles up at Din, blinking away the small tears of pleasure that gathered in the corners of her eyes, and then she sinks back down on the throne, squaring her shoulders, tossing her loose hair out of her face, eyes full of allure and desire.

“I want you,” she echoes, and then her mouth is on his stomach. Din gasps out, the sound of it ringing out like infernal bells, and Nova hides her teeth as she grins against his stomach, tongue swirling up and down his belly, fingers grazing like butterfly wings across the bones of his hips. She can feel him growing harder and harder as she teases, parting some of the faint hair that trails down his stomach with the wetness of her mouth. Din’s hands find her shoulders, and his fingers clench down, leaving small half-moons imprinted on either side of her neck. “Can I taste you?”

“W—want you,” Din chokes out, his voice demanding and desperate, but the rocking of his hips against her chest betrays him, and before he can make good on his command, Nova’s already slid every inch of him down her throat. She moans in rhythm with him, as Din’s hands leave her shoulders in a frenzy and instead tangle in her hair, wanting. Quietly, Nova swirls her tongue around the base before she pulls off of his cock with a loud, slurping, sucking noise, and she doesn’t even have time to be embarrassed before she’s sinking her mouth all the way down over Din again, the tears that have returned at the corners of her eyes springing back to life. They feel like satisfaction. She can feel him trembling, and when she drops one of her hands between his legs, lightly cupping his balls, Din cries out again. “Nova—”

“Shh,” she interrupts, which is truly a feat, considering her mouth is full of him and her saliva and not much else, “let me finish you here.”

“No,” Din interrupts, and his voice is strangled, muddled. Immediately, Nova does, pulling her mouth off of him regrettably, blinking up at him, lower lip slowly jutted out. “I k—fuck, I know you wanted to finish me like this, but—but I need you to break in my throne.”

A jolt of lightning strikes through Nova’s body, and she shudders as Din’s shaking grip finds the small of her back and pulls her to her trembling feet. For a moment, everything else evaporates, just the two of them breathing and holding each other, Din’s forehead stooped low to press against hers, and then he whirls her around.

Nova’s used to Din’s manhandling, the expert way he spins and lifts her, like she’s made of nothing but air. This is much clumsier than his usual vigor, and when she’s done a complete 180 and is facing her husband, Mand’alor, the big brave bounty hunter, he’s seated on his throne like he owns it, and his hands are on Nova’s hips in the same place where she was sitting a second ago. There’s something deeper and more intense in his gaze right now, something beyond just lust. It’s power, Nova recognizes as Din pulls her hips down, her knees splaying to the sides of the beskar throne. The metal is unyielding against her bones, but still, she doesn’t feel the impact. Din has collapsed her on top of him, the only thing keeping her upward is his grip and her knees trying desperately to cling onto the straddling position that Din’s holding her in.

For a moment, she just stares at him. He looks like divinity, here, something deeper than just another human being in front of him. Nova doesn’t know if it’s the starry sky spinning through the throne room, or because this feels like a holy place of worship, or if it’s just been weeks since they’ve had longer than a handful of minutes at the end of the day before they both fall asleep, too exhausted and dizzied by their work to touch each other relentlessly, but she feels like she’s spinning. Like this has been months in the making, even though it’s only been a handful of days since Din pulled her down over his lap and anchored her hips to his. Her eyes are on his, desperate, searching. When a single hand trails up to brush against her throat, she eagerly leans into his touch, nodding before his outstretched hand makes contact with her neck, skin on skin.

“You want this?” Din breathes, eyes fixed on her open mouth, and Nova nods against his question, his touch, everything.

“More than anything,” she manages, voice throaty and high, stars spinning beyond her eyes. Din nods in assent, and then his hand is gone, a claw rounded around her hipbones, his fingernails sinking into the plushy flesh. The way he holds her as he grinds her down on top of him is enough to make the rest of the world—and every insecurity—trickle out of Nova. When he pushes inside her, slick and warm and so big from this position, she gasps, the sound of it wet and obscene, too loud for the silent room.

“Fuck,” Din hisses, and then Nova starts moving of her accord. She can’t really feel her knees as they dig into the smooth, impenetrable surface of the beskar throne, but it doesn’t even matter. This is worth never feeling either patella ever again. There’s something humming low and urgent in Din’s throat, his scratchy face buried in Nova’s neck, tongue licking and snapping at her most sensitive pulse point. She groans. “You—you’re perfect, cyar’ika.”

“Not perfect,” she murmurs, hands wrapping around Din’s neck and tangling in his dark hair, eyes fluttering open enough to catch a glimpse at it, her fingers long and beautiful as they tug at his hair.

“Listento yourself,” Din pleads, one of his strong, toned arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her down over and over. In any other situation it would be embarrassing, the sucking noise coming ceaselessly between her thighs, but she’s so wet and so close to the edge that she doesn’t try to obscure it, and doesn’t try to fight Din’s insistent, guttural words. “You’re perfect. Everything about you. Your hips, the—the way they move. Your eyes, rolling back into your skull as I fuck you. Shit, Nova, everything about your pussy, I—”

She can feel her cheeks burning. It’s not often that Din is this vocal, this unhinged, especially not in this situation. It’s dirty and forbidden, and as she bounces up and down on his cock, eyes rolled back like he loves, everything wet and slippery between her legs, she forgets all about the fact that they’re naked and desecrating the throne of Mandalore. It’s everything. It’s so much, and when she’s right on the edge of orgasm, Din grinds his hips up into her.

“Din—”

“I want to show you off,” he grits out, and before she can ask him what he means, he’s lifting her off of him like she weighs fucking nothing, pushing himself down to the hilt inside her as she watches the empty throne room, the empty seats around the holotable, watched by the lifeless warriors painted on the wall. She doesn’t try to hide any part of her body. Din’s still whispering every dirty sound he can think of in her ear, one broad arm wrapped around her waist, the other hand tangled up in Nova’s hair.

“To whom?” she asks, the words barely even air. She’s on the edge still, eyes blinking, torso trembling. She wants Din to let her cum so bad, she can barely hear what he’s saying over the pumping rush of blood in her ears.

Din lifts up a lock of hair, the same stubborn wave that always falls in her face, tucking it gently behind her year. For a second, she sees red, legs shaking, completely subject to whatever Din’s doing. “Everyone,” he whispers, and the shock of how guttural and feral his voice sounds sends Nova right over the edge she’d been teetering on. He makes her cum so hard that everything explodes out into the same number of stars shimmering above, divine and dangerous, white-hot, so, so alive. And before she has a chance to gain her senses back, Din’s dragging and rushing as deep into her as he can, every inch of him warm and desirable, and when he lets go to follow Nova over the edge of the cliff they’re both standing on, she gasps as he fills her, hot and thick. It’s so much harder than the last time they fucked, both of them devastated, exhausted, fulfilled.

Nova leans back against Din’s chest, heaving, spinning, trying to catch her breath. They’re both inhaling and exhaling intently, trying to return back to the planet they rule, to the throne they just fucked on. “Well,” she starts, pulling the long waves off her back, looking over her bare shoulder at Din, “wow.”

He laughs, and he’s still inside her, slowly softening as he comes back down from the high of it, pressing his pink lips against her exposed skin. “High praise.”

“It’s the truth,” she whispers, giggling, suddenly remembering where they are. “I—I can’t believe we just did that—”

“We’re newlyweds,” Din interrupts, his voice still rough from the aftermath of sex, and something sparks up low in Nova’s belly as he talks, “plus I’m the ruler of this planet, remember?”

She grins, tipping her shoulder back into his bare chest, trailing her fingers over his tan skin, tracing fault lines she’s never seen but knows are there. “I like power on you.”

“Nova—”

“No, seriously,” she continues. “It’s hot. Do you get a crown, maybe? Do I?”

“I think one of us will have to duel Bo-Katan for that one,” Din groans, and Nova laughs again, sliding off of his lap, slowly pulling together the pieces of armor she discarded earlier, tossing them through the dark air for Din to collect. The mention of Bo-Katan, though, sends a shiver of a reminder down Nova’s very exposed spine. She pulls her own underclothes on, quickly whipping her tank top back over her head, suddenly remembering how cold it is in here when she’s not writhing between the proverbial sheets with her husband. She bites down on her lip, hastily zipping her trousers up, the noise loud and discordant. “Nova,” Din continues, squinting at her, “what’s wrong?”

“Oh,” she says, dazed, tossing the last piece of armor back over to him, “you know, we—we just desecrated a holy part of Mandalore, we don’t know how the hell to fight off the First Order, and Bo-Katan is probably standing right outside that door, ready to kick both of our asses.”

“She,” Din answers, pushing against the heavy beskar doors, “is not here. We’re working on how to stop the Order. And this holy part of Mandalore,” he breathes, walking back towards her, one eyebrow raised, as if he’s questioning the way his face is displaying expression, “is ours to desecrate.”

“When you said,” Nova breathes, staring back at him, everything else fading out, “that you wanted to show me off to everyone—”

Din suddenly looks sheepish, and she giggles. “Nova, I didn’t—I was just into the moment, if you don’t want to—you never have to, I—”

She grins, smile glittering in the dark, sliding past him and into the empty hall, drifting in the general direction of their bedroom. “I didn’t say,” she whispers coyly, holding out one hand for Din’s gloved one, “that I didn’t want to.” She winks, pulling a still-stammering Din behind her. “I just can’t believe you want to share me with anyone.”

They’re up the stairs and back to the entrance to the master bedroom, and Din finally finds his words—or his grip—and grabs her, twirling Nova back into his arms with the force of the bounty hunter that he used to be. “You’re mine,” he whispers. “I won’t let a single person in this galaxy forget it.”

Nova grins, heart doing backflips in her chest. By the time they finally make their way into the suite, it’s dark across the whole wide expanse of sky, and Grogu is asleep in their bed, comically small compared to the king-size that takes up most of the room. “I know,” she whispers, looking back and forth from her husband to their son, a smile etched into her lips. “We should get to bed,” she murmurs, after a second, and Din nods, pulling off the armor and his underclothes in his silent Mandalorian way, Nova weaving her hair back into her usual braid, feeling the bruises from her knees banging forcefully into the beskar throne.

“What’s on your schedule for tomorrow?” Din asks, both of them gently pulling the pillows that line the bed onto the ground, until it’s empty except for their usual spread and the baby’s tiny body. His eyes drift down to Grogu, and so do Nova’s. He knows. She knows. Neither of them want to say it aloud. It’s time for Grogu to go back with Luke and resume his Jedi training, even though none of them want him gone. Nova swallows.

“You know,” she tries, halfheartedly trying to lift her voice into excitement, “Back to business.”

Din rolls over, facing Nova in the darkness. “You don’t have to,” he whispers, and she knows losing Grogu again, even though it’s to Luke Skywalker, even though they’ll be able to fix it, is wreaking havoc on him too. Nova settles down next to him, ears focused only on the miniscule snores of Grogu’s open mouth, her hand finding Din’s, her eyes falling over where Luke’s lightsaber is hanging ceremoniously by the door.

“But I do,” she answers, finally, closing her tired eyes. “We have a galaxy to save. And I,” she breathes, snuggling in closer to the baby, “have a Jedi to see.”

if you would like to be taken off the taglist or put on it, send me a message/ask/comment!! <3

I HOPE YOU LOVED IT!!!! whether you're a returning reader or a longtime lover, i m so happy you're here with Din, Nova, Grogu, and me. i just simply could not stay away from this story, and i cannot wait to go across the stars and back with the second fic in the series!! leave all your thoughts in the comments here, or find me over at tumblr @ amiedala, or scroll through my tiktok @ padmeamydala

CHAPTER 2 WILL BE UP SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 11TH, @ 7:30 PM EST!

xoxo, amelie

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Text

A Little More than an Alliance

Eivor Wolf-Kissed x Female Reader

Summary: Eivor has been travelling all over England, forging alliances and making a name for herself. Now she comes to your little kingdom in the hopes of forging an alliance with the king, your father.

Word Count: 3299

It was impressive, the amount of allies the Raven Clan had forged since arriving in England, and that news eventually reached your town. So, you had certainly heard the name ‘Eivor Wolf-Kissed’ before, and you supposed it was only a matter of time before she stepped foot in your little region of England.

When news of Eivor wanting to meet with the king got around, your father agreed to a talk. You, your father, and his most trusted men gathered in the throne room, waiting for the Viking to arrive.

As soon as the Dane stepped into the hall, your full attention was on her. You couldn’t help it, of course you have heard of her but you still had no idea what to expect in many ways. Now, she stood in front of you and your father.

You felt foolish, never before have you been so captivated by a person. Your father and her spoke, while you took in each detail of her appearance. Her clothes, her braids, the parts of tattoos and scars that were visible, the way she held herself and walked into the hall with purpose, like she owned the place, how she showed respect while simultaneously demanding it with just her presence.

Eivor must have noticed your staring because she glanced over at your, making eye contact for just a moment but it was enough to turn your cheeks a light shade of pink and tear your gaze way from her.

Your father, the king, had never been too fond of the Danes but you had always been more open minded, simply curious about them. The truth was, you wanted to learn more about them, preferably from Eivor.

The meeting between Eivor and your father didn’t go so well, your father didn’t seem interested in any sort of alliance but you knew that she wouldn’t give up that easily.

Once the meeting ended, your father retired to his chambers while Eivor headed out of the hall. Deciding to try your luck, just a little, you followed after the Dane.

“Excuse me” you spoke as you caught up with her, your voice making her pause and turn to you. “I’m sorry for my father’s rudeness” you apologised on the king’s behalf.

“He isn’t the first leader to protest, but I’ve never let it stop us before” she shrugged slightly.

“He isn’t...a fan of your people but I want you to know that we don’t all think the same way and that I think he will come around in time” you assured her.

“I’ve won over stubborn Saxon’s before, I’m sure I’ll manage it again” she nodded in agreement.

“I hope you do” you admitted, glancing over at the pair of your father’s men who were watching you both, likely wondering why you were talking to her without your father’s presence. “Would you walk with me?” you asked, wanting to get away from the curiously men. Eivor nodded, making you smile before you both left the hall together. “I believe an alliance between our people will benefit us both...and I confess you and your people intrigue me” you told her as the doors closed behind you.

“Is that so?” Eivor asked with a small hum, walking through the streets of the town with you.

“My father believes that your belief in multiple Gods is heathenism and therefore damning, though I imagine our belief in a singular God confuses you just as much” you shrugged.

“It’s not the belief that confuses me, but the way you worship” Eivor confessed, a little curious about what you had to say.

“We must humble ourselves before God” you explained simply.

“We seek glory in the name of our Gods, I doubt you would consider that humble. We should take pride in our glories” she shook her head, clearly disagreeing.

“Pride is a sin” you informed her playfully.

“Another confusing concept of yours: sin. Your people make sins out of our nature. It is honour that decides our fate after death” she told you.

“Your Valhalla?” you asked and she nodded in confirmation. “Now that is something I don’t understand. The feasting and celebrating sounds like a wonderful end but the continuous battles I may never understand. After everything you earn in life, don’t you want the next one to be...peaceful?” you pondered.

“And your afterlife is that?” Eivor questioned.

“...I suppose we can only hope” you sighed softly. You had faith and you trusted that faith, but nobody could know for sure.

“You are a curious princess” she smiled slightly to herself, curiously looking you up and down, which definitely made you blush again.

“Thank you” you smiled softly, hoping that your flushed face wasn’t too noticeable. “I wish to further understand your people. Understanding and respect are the only things that can bring us together” you insisted.

Eivor went to speak but was interrupted by a man calling your name. The two of you turned to see one of your father’s most trusted men, one that you had known since you were a child, approaching you both. “Your father has requested your presence” he told you.

You nodded before turning back to Eivor. “I have to go” you sighed, sounding disappointed. “But I enjoyed our talk and I trust you don’t plan on leaving until you have formed an agreement, so perhaps we could talk further when you have the time?” you looked up at her with a hopeful gaze, and she had to admit that she wouldn’t mind speaking with you some more.

“It would be my pleasure” she nodded, smiling at you. You returned her smile before heading off to speak with your father.

Eivor watched you walk away with a small smile on her face, just has she had captured your attention, you had captured hers.

Unsurprisingly, Eivor did stay, continuing to speak with your father about possible alliances.

Though, she spent a good portion of her days speaking with you instead. She told you all about Norway and her life there, why she and her clan came to England, and their journey here. Your favourite stories where the ones she told you of her Gods, even they were flawed being and you found that you liked that.

Of course, you told her about your life growing up in England, laughing at the vast differences of your experiences. She told you about her experiences, but they were things you could only imagine. Your stories just didn’t compare in your eyes, they weren’t nearly as interesting in your opinion.

Eivor just had so many stories, either from her life or about her Gods, and she told them so well, so poetically. Each and every one held your fascination, you could just listen to her for hours on end.

You had offered to give her a proper tour of the town, the two of you got some curious looks from the people you passed, the Saxon Princess and the Danish drengr, but neither of you cared much. She had even taken you out of town for the day, without your father’s knowledge. It had proven surprisingly ease to sneak around to spend time with this fascinating woman.

All the while, Eivor was making impressive strides in forging an alliance with your father. She wasn’t doing it alone though, you were helping, trying to convince your father to consider the proposition.

It wasn’t too long before your father realised that both you and the Raven Clan had a shared enemy, Kind Alfred. So, your father set the terms of the alliance, if Eivor could help him and his men eliminate Alfred’s control over the region, she would have him as an ally.

Your father had only recently left for the camp that they were going to regroup at, leaving you with a goodbye and a promise to return.

Now you stood alone in the empty throne room, which would undoubtable be the place you waited until they all returned safely. You were just about to sit down when the front doors opened and Eivor walked into the room.

“Eivor, you haven’t gone yet?” you were definitely surprised to see her here, having assumed she would be one of the first at the camp, preparing for battle.

“I wanted to come and tell you that we’d be attacking Aelfred’s men tonight, I am meeting your father at the camp soon” she explained her presence. Knowing that she had come to see you just to say goodbye made you smile just a little, you would have smiled more if you hadn’t been so worried.

“I know, he just left to prepare” you nodded, walking towards her so that you both met in the centre of the hall. “Tell me, Eivor, are you even better in battle than you are at diplomacy?” you asked.

“The battlefield is almost like a second home to me” she nodded, her brow furrowing in confusion and curiosity at your question.

“Good...then I suppose I have nothing to worry about” the answer didn’t really do anything to put your mind at ease, you already knew about her prowess on the battlefield, you had heard the stories...and yet you still worried about her.

“You’re worried we won’t succeed?” Eivor questioned you with a small frown.

“Well...yes, but not because I’m doubting your abilities. I’m more concerned about your safe return” you confessed.

“I’ll be fine, we’ll likely be back sometime tomorrow” she promised you, sounding confident in it.

“And you’ll look out for my father, it’s been some time since he saw battle” you requested. He had never been a coward in a fight but you still worried about him, he was family after all.

“I will, I promise” she nodded before turning to leave.

You hadn’t expected her to try to leave so suddenly, there were still things you wanted to say to her.

“Eivor” you swiftly caught her hand in yours, making her stop and turn back to you. She looked at you expectantly, seeing the worry written on your face. “Please be careful” your voice was soft, like a quiet prayer.

“You don’t need to worry” Eivor raised her hand, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear with a surprisingly soft smile on her face.

Both her smile and gesture were gentle, more gentle than one might expect from a drengr such as herself. You had learnt during your time with her that she certainly did have a gentle side to her, one that she had been kind enough to show to you.

“I’ll be back soon, after we claim our victory” she assured you, her hand slipping around to the back of your neck before pulling you closer.

You went to speak, to question her, but you where quickly shut up. Your eyes widened slightly as her lips pressed against yours firmly. Slowly coming out of your surprised stated, your eyes fluttered shut and your hands rested on her arms as you returned the intense kiss. You had never felt so much heat and passion in a single gesture...or at all for that matter.

Eivor broke away from the kiss, leaving you breathless. She brushed her thumb over your cheek before pulling away from you completely, walking out of the hall to prepare for battle, leaving you standing in the middle of the throne room, slightly stunned by the sudden development.

The next day your father and his men returned, just like they all promised. Your father had greeted you with the good news and a hug before taking his place on his throne, you standing by his side as he spoke to two of his men.

You had been paying attention to the conversation...until Eivor walked into the hall. As soon as you saw her, you were solely focused on her, and you were sure that your face just lit up at the sight of her.

The truth was that you just wanted to run to her, but you knew that you couldn’t. So, you stayed put, just grateful for her safe return. She seemed glad to see you as well, greeting you with a nod and a smile, both of which you returned.

Everyone had returned, the dead had been honoured, the battle was won, and an alliance had been forged. So, it was time to celebrate, and everyone did so with a feast.

As the men, Saxon and Dane alike, celebrated with food, drink, and music, your father sat up on his throne looking on with pride.

You had left your father’s side, approaching Eivor, who was leaning against a wooden post in a quieter part of the hall. “Your people seem much better at celebrating than mine” you commented, getting the woman’s attention.

“I’d have to agree with you” Eivor nodded as you moved to stand beside her, the two of you watching the more rowdy Danes attempting to bring out the worst in the more reserved Saxons.

“...it looks like fun” you sighed.

“It is. Why don’t you join in?” she asked, looking down at you.

“I can’t” you shook your head, sounding displeased.

“Of course you can. You’re a princess, you can do whatever you want, especially if that thing is celebrating” Eivor chuckled a little, seemingly not understanding your claim.

“My father considers it indecent of me to join in with the festivities” you told her, making her roll her eyes.

She seemed to think about something for a moment before looking back at you. “Come on” she nodded at you to follow her before walking off.

You frowned slightly in confusion but followed after her anyway. She grabbed two tankards off of a table, filling them with mead, before heading for the front door. You were still none the wiser as to what was going on in her head but you didn’t question it, you only followed curiously.

Following her outside, you let the doors close behind you both before coming to a stop around the side of the building. It was dark outside now, the night sky lit up by the moon and the stars, the glow from the torches lighting up the town. Everyone else was in the hall, so it was just the two of you were out here, making it all the more peaceful.

“I guess you’ll be returning home now” you realised with a dejected sigh, taking a sip of your mead.

“I will. I’ve finished my business here, and I am needed back in Ravensthorpe” Eivor nodded, drinking from her own mead.

You have had some time to think about what you wanted out of life and you knew that now was the only time you might get to ever seek something new. “Would you take me with you? Back to Ravensthorpe?” you asked, knowing that the question was probably surprising.

“Now, why would you want that?” she did sound curious but she seemed to hide her surprise pretty well. “I love my father and I love our home, and I don’t plan on cutting all ties, but I don’t think my place is here anymore...I think there’s something more for me out there” you confessed, looking over at her and attempting to disguise the longing in your gaze. You succeeded...partly.

“I’m not one to try to talk somebody out of following their fate but I have to ask, why don’t you think your place is here?” she didn’t sound judgemental, she just wanted to better understand.

“I will never be considered for the throne and I’m okay with that, I don’t think I even want it, but if I am not here to be my father’s heir...there is no real role for me here” you explained honestly.

“And what would your role be in Ravensthorpe?” Eivor questioned and you paused for a moment. She made a fair point, what use would you be to the Raven Clan?

“...I guess I’ll have to figure that out” you confessed with another sigh, looking out at the quiet town in front of you. Surely, she wouldn’t accept your request, she had no reason too.

“I’m sure I can think of a place for you” she reassured you casually, taking another drink.

“Really?” your head shot round to look at her with widened eyes. “Is that you agreeing?” you asked.

“Will your father allow it?” she answered your question with another question.

“He won’t like it but I don’t think he could stop me, nor would he break his alliance with you. He never was too fond of Danes but he is a man of his word, plus I believe you have won him over on your people” you told her.

“Tonight we celebrate, we leave tomorrow morning...we’ll speak with your father then” she nodded, not even questioning her decision.

“Before we leave, I must ask...before you left to fight Alfred’s men...” the confidence you just had, asking to leave with her, faded as you brought up the subject that you really wanted to talk about.

“Yes?” a small smirk tugged at her lips.

“What was that?” you asked.

“What was what?” she was teasing you now and you knew it, she wasn’t even attempting to hide her smirk.

“Eivor” you groaned in frustration and embarrassment, but she just chuckled. “The kiss, what was that?” you asked, a light blush spreading over your cheeks as you hung your head slightly to avoid her gaze.

“Did you not enjoy it?” Eivor asked but it didn’t really sound like a genuine question. You guessed that she already knew the answer, she was just teasing you.

“Yes, I...of course” you assured her quickly, making her smile. “I was just wondering what it meant...” your words drifted off again.

“Well...” Eivor smiled as she placed her tankard down and turned to you, “...I meant...” she reached out tenderly and pushed some hair out of your face, reminding you of your encounter before she left for battle, “...that I would like it if you joined me in Ravensthorpe.”

Her answer made you smile, glad to hear that you meant as much to her as she meant to you. This time you were less surprised when she cupped your cheek in her hand and lent in to capture your lips in a kiss, her other hand resting on your waist.

You placed your tankard down as carefully as you could as you returned her kiss, bringing both of your hands up to cup her face. The hand against your cheek fell to grip the other side of your waist as Eivor pulled you closer to her, making you wrap your arms around her neck.

This kiss was even better than the last and you hoped that there would be many more in the future. The way she kissed you, the way she touched you, even the way she looked at you, lit a fire in you that you had never experienced before and you didn’t ever want to lose that feeling.

You reluctantly broke the kiss but didn’t pull away from her. “Come with me” you practically whispered as you took her hand in yours, stepping away from her.

“Where are we going?” Eivor asked curiously, letting you guide her around the longhouse, towards one of the doors around the back.

“Tonight is about celebrating, is it not?” you asked, looking back over your shoulder at her with a small smirk of your own.

Eivor smirked in return, quickly catching on to your plans for the evening, letting you sneak her back to your chambers.

Once you reached your chamber, you closed the door and returned to Eivor’s embrace. She instantly pulled you into another kiss, and before you knew it she was lowering you onto your back on the furs of your bed.

#eivor x reader #eivor wolfkissed x reader #eivor #eivor wolfkissed #assassins creed valhalla #my writing

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angel-tries-to-write · 3 years

Text

Bloody favor

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan Rating: Explicit Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Hanji Zoë Word count: 3204 Genre: smut, fluff

When Hanji suffers from menstrual pain, there's only one person who can help them.

Sometimes Hanji joked, that if only they could do more experiments on Eren without hurting him, they would be able to get to know titans so well, they could predict the times they attack. Levi would always roll his eyes and say that it would be very convenient, yet very impossible as well, since the titans weren't much known for thinking, with the obvious exception for shifters. Unfortunately for him, the crazy scientist wasn't the type to give up on their theories, until proven wrong, besides that would be a wonderful ability, to predict the attack and being able to properly prepare for it. Hanji felt it on a personal level, knowing there is a certain pattern to their behavior would made all their lives and fight less stressful, and stress was the last thing they needed.

Their body was acting weird recently, it felt uncomfortable, heavy and tired all the time, their personality has changed as well, they always were impulsive and short tempered, but the past few days have proven that their patience was very short, to the point that when Nanaba joked that maybe they are pregnant, she barely dodged a particularly heavy book Hanji threw at her. Not that it was impossible, those hot nights with Levi might or might not had something to do with that, even if none of them would ever admit something was between them. But Hanji knew better, Nana's stupid joke didn't make them paranoid, but they actually connected the dots: it wasn't pregnancy, but upcoming period.

And obviously, obviously, this thing always comes unwanted. It seems to have this annoying ability of picking the worst timing ever, especially when you were busy. Hanji knew that very well, they lived for long enough to experience menstrual bleeding in various moments and places they neither expected it nor wanted. Super important and absorbing experiment? Check. Boring but mandatory meeting? Check. Long expedition that was supposed to gain valuable information? Check. First secret date with Levi? Of course. If Hanji only wanted and cared enough, they could make a very impressive list of all the places and moments they started bleeding out of nowhere. And they hated it with passion.

It seemed like, at this point, the only inconvenient situation when this condition hadn't started, was a battle with titans. Obviously, with Hanji's luck in this field, it was nearly undoubted that it was only a matter of time. Yet as usual, they weren't thinking about such things, when the titans attacked, they took their gear and rushed to the Wall with no hesitation. Even though they felt tired, overwhelmed, and they really didn't want to move, Hanji knew it was their duty as a soldier. So they fought, they fought with passion and rage no one ever expected from them. For the first time they didn't care about the experiments, information, any scientific knowledge, all they wanted was to defeat the titans and go to sleep.

At some point, when they slaughtered their way through another titan's neck, its steaming blood splattered onto their face, blinding them temporarily. Hanji swore under their breath, pushed the goggles up to see anything at least and headed to the wall for a quick break. Of course, titan blood evaporates eventually, but they didn't have time to wait until this happens, so they had to clean the goggles manually.

“Squad leader! Are you okay?” Moblit screamed, running in their direction, as Hanji took the goggles off their head, to properly wipe them.

“As okay as I can be in the middle of the battle, thank you” they answered, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You're bleeding, four eyes” this time Levi spoke, though his voice was perfectly calm in comparison to Moblit's.

“I don't have time to bleed. Tell me where, so I can ignore it” Hanji did their best to look at him angrily, but they couldn't even see his face, so it was a challenge.

“Your pants” he pointed out. Hanji looked down to see a pretty large crimson pool, staining their white pants. Perfect. They should have expected that. It would also explain the constant pain in their abdomen they were experiencing.

“Oh for fuck's sake, not now” they groaned. Hanji wasn't swearing often, only when they were really tired or angry. “Fuck it, I'll take care of this later.”

“Maybe you should—”

“Don't you fucking dare to tell me what I should, unless you have more experience with periods than I have, shorty!” they snapped at Levi, very efficiently making him shut up. He knew that angry Hanji was the scariest person in the world. Apparently Moblit didn't, so he opened his mouth, but Levi elbowed him in the ribs.

“Don't even try, you'll only make them angrier” he said quietly. Meanwhile Hanji finished cleaning their goggles and they could see again, so they rushed back to fight. But as they landed on a rooftop of one of the smaller buildings, they could hear another person landing behind. They knew these footsteps too well to not figure out who followed them.

“I swear, one comment and you're dead” they growled, certainly not in the mood for bickering and jokes.

“Are you in pain?” he asked, approaching his partner. Hanji could see concern in his usually cold eyes. At first they wanted to yell at him, but they knew it wasn't going to help anyone.

“Yes” they sighed, leaning against the wall of the nearby, taller building, massaging their stomach in hope of easing the cramps.

“What I was going to suggest was that maybe you should go back and take some rest. I know it's your duty to fight” he quickly added, before they could interrupt him. “But just like injured soldiers, you only cause risk for yourself and the others by not being in your best shape.”

“I'm not injured. It's nothing, I can fight” they protested. Levi stepped forward and pinned them against the wall.

“Your pain is blinding you. Don't you see? All you've been doing is flying around and slashing titans like a maniac. That's not you, Hanji” he said and they could easily tell he was scared.

“Then what do you think I'm supposed to do? Rest comfortably while my squad and friends are fighting, bleeding and dying? Guess what, I can fight and bleed and not die” they stated angrily.

“Alright, then I'm going to have to use the more drastic methods” he leaned in and kissed them. But Hanji was not having it, they pushed him away as fast as they could.

“Are you out of your mind?! Someone might see us!” they scolded him furiously.

“Let them see, I don't care. You need relief from pain. Then I'm at your service” he smirked suggestively and put his hand on their thigh. “My body is yours, all you have to do is to use it the way you desire” he offered, pointing at himself.

“Fuck you” they spat angrily, but their blush was an obvious evidence they loved this idea, just maybe not in this place and timing.

“Excellent answer, now come and do it yourself.”

“Later” they sighed defeated, knowing fully well they couldn't resist him for long. “Once we're finished here, we can discuss your generous offer” they gave him a quick kiss and used their ODM gear to get to the other side of the area. Luckily the battle was soon to be won, after that, when they took care of the wounded and dead, Hanji could finally rest. The insides of their thighs were stained with various shades of brown and red from dried and fresh blood, and their body hurt, so all they dreamed about was a bath, a massage and, oh yes, almost naked Levi waiting for them with an already prepared bath.

“Ah, finally, you decided to show up. I thought I'd have to go and drag your dirty ass here.”

“I don't deserve you” Hanji said quietly, their eyes filled with tears.

“Less talking, more undressing. There's a bucket with cold water we have to put your bloody clothes in” he approached them and started to help them get out of ODM straps, then clothes. “Why didn't you change? I imagine it must have been very uncomfortable to wear this for that long. What did I tell you about self care?” he asked while working on taking out all the straps.

“I know, I was going to, but there was so much to do and so many people to take care of, that I didn't have time to even think about myself” Hanji explained, unable to look him in the eyes, they felt like they failed him.

“You really have to learn to care about yourself, shitty glasses” Levi said, his tone was difficult to read, even though Hanji knew him so well.

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize to me. You did harm only to yourself” he said softly, kissing their neck. It tasted like sweat and dirt, which meant Hanji really needed that bath. He helped them undress completely, trying to be gentle. “Are you still in pain?”

“Yes. But I also want you so bad right now” they admitted, shamelessly staring at his chest. They were so close that they didn't even need glasses.

“Are you sure?” he asked, getting rid of his own remaining clothes. “I don't want to cause you more pain.”

“Really? That's what you care about?” Hanji raised their brow in confusion.

“What else should I?” he took a cloth, dipped it in water, kneeled for better view and started to clean all the blood on Hanji's thighs.

“Don't you think it's disgusting? And dirty?” they asked hesitantly. “Like... even more than a regular sex?”

“There's nothing that can't be cleaned later. Just like I do it now” he wiped dried blood off their skin, proving his point.

“Are you sure? I mean, cleaning is one thing, but sex?”

“Hanji... Don't make me say sappy shit” Levi sighed.

“Say it. I know you hate it, but maybe that's what I need right now” they leaned against the bathtub, to let him get a better access to their legs and crotch.

“Alright. But if you laugh, there will be consequences” he warned them. “I've heard once, that a true warrior is not afraid of a little blood on his sword, and I pretty much agree with this sentence. I don't like it, but I can handle it” he said with his eyes focused on Hanji's leg, too embarrassed to look up and meet their eyes.

“That's... disgustingly sweet.”

“Also ridiculous and pathetic.”

“Yeah. Don't do it again.”

“Don't worry, I'm not going to. But what I mean is that if you need me, I don't care about anything but your comfort” Levi stated, putting the cloth in the bucket with cold water, with Hanji's pants and underwear. He sat back on his heels and looked up, waiting for their move.

“You look really hot right now. I love to see you on your knees” they smirked, biting their bottom lip.

“Oh, I can imagine. I like to see you in this position too” he replied, there was a spark in his eyes.

“I feel almost bad I won't be able to properly use this position” Hanji lowered themself onto his lap, straddling him, then wrapped their arms around his neck. “Almost” they whispered and kissed him. Levi returned the kiss with passion, one hand entangled in their messy hair, the other caressing their buttcheek. Hanji's hand slid down his chest and perfect abs, but hesitated and only barely brushed his hardening penis. “Are you sure you want it?” they asked, looking him in the eyes.

“Yes. Now touch me, Hanji” he growled and captured their lips in another hungry kiss. The timing was perfect, just when he did it, he could feel his partner's hand on his dick, which made him moan in their mouth. He squeezed their butt in response, but that made Hanji break the kiss.

“Just be gentle, alright? My body is quite sensitive and not in the nice way. Especially my boobs, try to avoid touching them, it hurts” they asked and Levi nodded in response.

“Anything you want” he promised quietly and leaned his head on their shoulder, closing his eyes and focusing on pleasure they were giving him.

“Ass gripping is fine, besides you do it so well” Hanji purred, palming him for a while and waiting for their lover to tell them he's ready. Which he did, after a moment.

“I think that's enough. Do you want me to warm you up too?”

“Umm... no, you don't have to...”

“Hanji.”

“I...” they sighed, seeing his stare. “Yes, I do” they admitted.

“It's the first time I see you this shy and embarrassed. Even our first time wasn't this awkward” Levi noticed, his thumb found their clit almost immediately. Hanji gasped when he touched that little bundle of nerves. Period cramps made it difficult for them to actually feel the pleasure in its fullest, but their lover's magical hands were doing their job very well, making Hanji feel at least a little better.

“I wasn't bleeding during our first time. Neither I felt like shit” they explained, having difficulties with gathering their thoughts when Levi was touching them like that.

“Does it really matter that much to you? It's just some blood, no big deal” he peppered their jawline with kisses.

“We'll talk about it the next time it gets on your clothes” Hanji chuckled, but Levi pressed his hand harder, making them moan.

“Clothes are a different story. I don't happen to have any now, though” he noticed, tracing their skin with his fingers. “Besides, I don't mind getting dirty from time to time. As long as I'm with you” he confessed softly.

Hanji looked at him with these beautiful, big, brown eyes and pulled him in a passionate, breathtaking kiss, then pushed his hand away and connected their bodies by sliding themself on his cock. Both of them moaned into each other's mouth at the sensation. Levi pulled his lover closer, grabbing their thighs and ass firmly, to help them move with ease, once they were ready.

This act was quite different than their usual lovemaking, but also very familiar. Levi ignored his pleasure, focusing completely on giving all the control to Hanji. It was rare, usually the one who wanted domination had to fight for it, because both of them enjoyed being in control. Even when they felt like just leaning back and leaving most of the action to their partner, none of them liked to make it that easy. But this time he knew it was a necessity. Hanji needed relief and distraction from pain, not further discomfort, so he just had to let them do whatever they needed. It felt good for him too, so he didn't actually mind. And he obviously tried to help whenever they struggled with pace or angle. It was a quite weird, slightly uncomfortable and pretty awkward comfort sex, but no less sweet and loving than their usual intercourses. Slow pace might have felt less intense than rough and fast act, but it always allowed them to feel their bodies in a different way, to learn each other and to discover new sides of pleasure. They moved in slow, steady pace, even a little sloppy, their orgasms building up like glowing embers instead of burning flame and finally flooding them calmly like a lazy sea wave, instead of usual explosion. But they enjoyed it, that soft pleasure, so different, but still satisfying.

“You were right. I needed it” Hanji panted, hiding their face in a crook of Levi's neck.

“Do you feel better?” he asked, embracing his partner.

“Yeah. I don't feel pain for now” they answered with a small smile.

“Good. We can take a bath and go to sleep” he decided, kissing his lover's shoulder and caressing their butt and thighs. “Come on, you deserve to rest after that battle.”

“You too, captain” Hanji lazily slid off him. “That looks scary” they said, staring at his cock and lap, which were covered with their menstrual blood. Levi didn't say a word, he simply reached for the cloth he previously cleaned Hanji with and wiped himself, then his lover.

“There” he gave them a quick kiss. “Now get your pretty ass into the bathtub, or I'll throw you there myself.”

“You think I have a pretty ass?” Hanji echoed, surprised by his words.

“Of course I do, you have a lovely ass” he stood up with a little difficulty, his legs were getting numb because of this position.

“Your ass is lovely too” they smiled, standing up as well. It felt really tempting to annoy Levi further, but Hanji decided they're too tired for this and stepped into the bathtub as he told them.

After a quick bath, they both headed to Hanji's room. They tried to hide their relationship, but it was common among the veterans to seek comfort in someone else, it didn't necessarily mean they were dating. It became clear after one time, when all of them woke up in a giant pile in Erwin's room, after a particularly rough expedition. It was the day when the commander allowed to bend the rules for their all mental health. It turned out to be extremely helpful. Just when Levi and Hanji were sneaking through the hallway, they heard a scream. It was Nanaba. But before the couple could react, they heard Miche's voice and screaming stopped. She had a nightmare again and he had to calm her down, sometimes in a quite drastic way, like yelling at her first, because nothing else but shock would work, only then he could hug her, when she was aware what is real and what is not. Hanji and Levi exchanged pitying glances, on top of everything they all had been through, Nana had a terrible childhood. Levi knew exactly how she felt, he wasn't surprised she couldn't sleep well, though sharing a bed with someone else was really helpful. Usually she would come to Hanji or Moblit, but recently she started to sleep only with Miche and surprisingly, her nightmares became even less frequent and less intense. Just like Levi's insomnia eased a lot since he started to share bed with Hanji. No one questioned why or how it was working, it just was and everyone simply accepted it.

Finally they reached the room and crawled into the bed. Or at least they tried. Hanji just groaned as they collapsed ungracefully onto the mattress, too exhausted to even cover themself with a blanket. Levi had to do it for them, as he placed himself behind their back, to massage their stomach.

“You're the best, Levi” they whispered. “I don't know what would I do without you.”

“Go to sleep, Hanji” he kissed their neck and nestled himself comfortably. He didn't have to tell them twice, they dozed off a moment later. Levi looked at them for a while, before closing his own eyes. He hated to see them in pain, but he was slightly happier, knowing he could help them even a little.

#shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #my fic #levihan #hanji zoë #levi ackerman #moblit berner

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horanghaechan · 3 years

Text

Dream in a Dream (M)

pairing: Prince!Ten x Princess!You

word count: 6k

warnings: written in 3rd person, mature content, fluffy, ten being the love of my life

synopsis: The Four Great Kingdoms took turns to maintain the peace of a planet called Mahabhuta. However, when minor rebellions threaten its stability, two kingdoms seek an alliance. But, hearts could never be war weapons. What to do when one of them is already committed to another?

Inspired by indian/turkish stuff and Avatar lol

[a/n]: since he (and his smile) was the reason i started stanning nct back in march 2016 (lol) i decided to post this here, the original version is in portuguese and posted on my fic site. happy bday, phonphon, you deserve the world.

also, english is not my first language so any grammar/etc mistake please let me know!

First of all, a small glossary so you don’t get lost:

The cycle of the Great Kingdoms of Mahabhuta takes place by:

Kingdom of Prithvi (Kingdom of Earth)

Kingdom of Apas-Jal (Kingdom of Water)

Kingdom of Agni (Kingdom of Fire)

Kingdom of Vayu (Kingdom of Air)

However, there is Akasha (Heaven, "vacuum"), by which all other kingdoms are "subjected". Akasha’s laws override any other law, as they were enacted prior to the division of Mahābhūta.

The hierarchy in each kingdom consists of:

Samraat and Samrajni – emperor and empress;

Maharaja and Maharani – king and queen, used formally for the heirs of the throne;

Raja and Rani – king and queen, used informally with the heirs of the throne.

Some words used by the characters and their meanings:

Evet: an informal way of saying “yes”;

Nei: an informal way of saying “no”;

Shokran: “thanks” said from peasants to monarchs;

Shukriya: “thanks” said from monarchs to peasants;

Olum: interjection of astonishment, incredulity.

Om Shanti: good luck.

Findi: petname, which can mean both “love” and “sweetheart”, normally related to married couples.

☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼

Border between Vayu and Prithvi, Apas-Jal Era.

Some carriages and soldiers crossed the bridge across the border of the Kingdom of Prithvi. Everyone there was fully aware of what they were doing, but no one hesitated. Keeping Maharani of Vayu happy was the only thing they were looking for.

“Rani Y/N are you sure that Raja Chittaphon will be waiting for us?” Ipek, Y/N’s chaperone and personal maid, asked worriedly.

“Evet.” Y/N nodded. “It’s our only chance.”

“Samraat Bhima will be horrified when he notices that you are missing.”

“He will.” The princess smiled. “But he’ll eventually understand that I had to.”

“Everyone will be delighted when you get married to Raja Chittaphon, right?!” Ipek smiled when she noticed how the girl’s face lit up at her question.

“Hopefully so, Ipek. That’s what I’m aiming for.” Y/N sighed, biting another smile. Remembering Chittaphon always resulted in moments like that, where everything melted and she became a puddle of love.

She still shivered like a fool when she remembered when they met.

Flashback on

Jala, Kingdom of Apas-Jal, 3 years ago

The corridors of the Palace of Jala were huge and very confusing. There were no separated doors, let alone identification by floors or wings. Y/N walked blindly through them, because she couldn’t remember where they assigned her rooms earlier.

“Well, I’m sure it’s not here.” One of the doors opened and a boy came out of it, on his back, wearing a typical outfit of the monarchs she knew.

“Olum!” Y/N froze on her place.

“Oh, are you the owner of this room?” He turned to her, drawing her attention to the pair of amused chestnut eyes that stared at her.

“Nei, nei. I’m lost.” She confessed. “I thought the floor was empty.”

“They told me that the Kingdom of Agni would be on the third floor, according to the cycle, but I confess I’m having trouble counting. Is it the third excluding the ground floor, or the third from the ground?” The boy smiled and she felt her heart flutter.

She absolutely adored smiles.

And... Olum, that smile was out of this world!

“Well, guess I’m twice wrong, then.” she blushed.

“You’re not from Agni, I suppose.”

“Nei. I’m from Vayu.” She extended her hand, indicating the ring of the Compass Rose, which was the symbol of her kingdom. “I ended getting lost...”

“Ten, from Agni.” the boy showed his own ring too, a ruby sun adorning his hand. Only monarchs wore such rings. “Maybe if we go back where you came from, we’ll be able to find your chaperone.”

“Y/N, from Vayu.” She bowed, understanding now with whom she spoke. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Maharaja Chittaphon.”

“Olum, it can’t be!” Another lovely smile painted his thin lips. “Maharani Y/N Vatavaran?” Ten sounded excited. “I spent years trying to get to know you!”

“Really?” Y/N raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

“Indeed! Did you think that you could remain incognito forever? All kingdoms are curious about the Heiress of the Air.” he signalled for them to start walking. He couldn’t touch her until they were officially introduced. “I suppose you make your debut at tonight’s ball?”

“My parents decided that it’s time for me to seek popularity.” She nodded. “I’m a little afraid, you know? Balls have always seemed too formal.”

“And they are.” Ten agreed. “But as soon as we are introduced, I’ll ask for one dance, and I hope you’ll save me a page on your card.”

“As I don’t know anyone, you’ll have them all.” She laughed.

“Perfect! So I won’t have to keep company with the Apas.”

“Don’t you like water?”

“I don’t like anything that puts out fire.” Ten joked casually, and then realized that the princess was puzzled by his comment. “Don’t worry, the air tends to spread it. I really like the air.” The same amusement gleam flashed through those chestnut eyes.

Y/N also had made up her mind: she liked the fire a lot.

End of flashback

Closing her eyes, Y/N waited for the right time to relax. When the antelope’s hooves stopped, she knew it was near.

“Maharani Vatavaran, we have arrived.” One of the soldiers tapped the carriage window twice, breaking the silence. “Maharaja Bhumi is waiting for you.”

“I’ll go down. Shukriya.” Y/N smiled. “We’ll meet tomorrow, Ipek. Watch out for any strange movements, pay close attention to the air! As we are in Prithvi you may feel weaker, but just focus on the atmosphere.”

“Evet, evet. Now go, we have no time to waste!” Ipek rushed her.

“Off I go.” Y/N smiled. “Wish me luck.”

“Om Shanti.” Ipek raised her hands to her face, crossing them in the shape of a bird and touching her forehead between them, a gesture of undoubted respect to Her Highness.

Y/N got out of the carriage and came across Bhumi, Prithvi’s heir. They had become very close friends when they were in Jala, because Bhumi was Ten’s close cousin. Adding up to their escapade, Varaha, capital of Prithvi, was extremely close to Akasha – if all went well, they’d need just two days to arrive there.

“I’m glad you made it!” Bhumi hugged her. “Ten must be on his way.” He signalled for a carriage behind them. “If they saw Vayu’s carriage we might have had problems, so I thought it is better to use mine until we get to the house.”

“Thanks for helping.” She thanked him, getting into the car.

“You know my weaknesses are love stories, Y/N.” Bhumi laughed. “I asked some guards to take the road to Akasha and they reported that it is in perfect condition. I separated two stops, one in Urvarak and the other in Chattaan; if you manage to reach Chattaan tomorrow by the afternoon, Akasha is just an hour away, so you can rest and do everything at dawn. I estimate that by lunchtime you’ll be married.” Bhumi gave her hands a soft squeeze. “Om Shanti, cousin.”

“Thank you, dear. But can’t we go straight to Chattaan?”

“It’d be very risky and a tad tiring. If other guards notice a strange movement on the roads, it’ll be warned to my father and everything will go down the drain.”

“Then we will follow the pace of normal travelers.” Y/N nodded. “Ipek is following in a carriage with some of my guards, but there is nothing that indicates my presence or relation to me. Do you think they are in danger?”

“If there’s nothing of yours with her, then I don’t believe so.” Bhumi waved a hand, dispensing bad luck. “As soon as they reach Urvarak, if they wish, they can go up in the air and proceed directly to Akasha, without stopping by Chattaan, or just taking a short rest. But, in my point of view, it’d be a little risky, no? Since your father will notice your disappearance in a few hours...”

“I’ll talk to Ipek, then. It would be really good if we had someone waiting for us in Akasha.” Y/N stared at the road. “How long does it take for Urvarak?”

“If you leave this morning, you’ll be there before sunset. That, of course, if you stop to eat and everything.” Bhumi loosened a belt that held his royal attire. “We will be near Varaha in a few minutes, but I’ll drop you off at home and go to the palace. You need to be aware because only Ten knows where it is.”

“Do you think he hasn’t arrived yet?”

“I don’t know how it went with the guards at the border, even if I let them know he was coming.” Bhumi sighed. “In times of crisis, things get chaotic.’

“I hope we don’t make this a bigger problem.” Y/N sighed.

“Love inevitably creates problems, baby.” he laughed. “But, a Maharaja has always been able to choose his wife and vice versa. I don’t see your marriage as an affront to Mahabhuta’s balance, but exactly what Apas-Jal and Agni wanted to do: an alliance. So, if we are to have an alliance, let it be real and auspicious.”

“Ah Bhumi, dear, you’re so good with words.” Y/N laughed, trying to relax.

☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼

The house consisted of Prithvi’s standard architecture, with various stone details and spearhead adornments. After hugging and thanking Bhumi four more times, Y/N quietly entered the house, dressed as an ordinary Vahara citizen. It was very good that Bhumi had chosen a normal property instead of a more luxurious and aristocratic house.

She put her bag in the living room and walked to the bathroom, desperate to shower and do her hair. It could be the height of futility, but Y/N did not want Ten to see her sloppy and dirty. All those times they met when she was air bending were enough... They, in general, involved a lot of dust and dry leaves.

“Of course Bhumi would do that.” Y/N sweetly smiled when she found cinnamon essence in the bathroom. This was, in the best description, Vayu’s “official” smell.

While the water in the bathtub heated up, Y/N stretched out a lacy mid-length dress and a cloak. She had brought, in addition to that outfit, another white dress – which she would wear the day she arrived in Akasha – and a dark green dress.

Y/N smoothed the velvet piece and smiled a little. She was starting quite an adventure, but couldn’t find the slightest regret for what she was doing. For sure, if she had to choose, she would do everything again and again.

After washing up, Y/N was braiding her hair when she heard a noise coming from the kitchen. She felt chills down her spine, but because the house had only one floor, anyone who entered it would make enough noise for her to prepare before she could cross the room. Awareness spread through her and she held tight on her hairbrush and a small hand mirror – since there wasn’t enough time to look for any other weapon.

“Y/N?” Her name came out loud in a soft voice, almost like velvet.

“Ten!” dropping all objects, she ran to him.

The couple hugged each other, trying to make up for all the one-month longing in those few seconds. A never-ending month in which Ten had heard about the arranged marriage; he and Y/N did not have much chance of communicating; and in which each other’s world seemed to get off track with the possibility of not being able to be together as they wanted to.

“How are you? Did you arrive safely?” Ten caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, loving how Y/N’s eyes closed at the slightest touch.

“I got scared thinking the house was invaded, but now I’m fine. And yes, I arrived safely thanks to Bhumi’s assistance.” she smiled.

“Sorry, I heard the water and decided it’d be respectful to wait.”

“There’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” Y/N blinked, wickedly.

“I know.” Ten brought his face close to hers. “But I thought we had agreed not to do anything else until the wedding?!”

“To look doesn’t mean to touch.” She lifted her chin, voice dripping challenge.

“It turns out, little devil, I’m not so magnanimous.” He pressed his lips to hers, savouring the longing. The last time they saw each other they had to be quick, because it was at the reunion of the kingdoms, and although they could not participate actively, the heirs had an obligation to be present.

Ten circled her waist, breathing in the cinnamon and melting on Y/N’s tongue. Her whole body was on fire – almost not so figuratively – when they were together. Even though he knew they couldn’t waste time, he delighted himself with a few bites on her neck, fighting the urge to take the kiss further.

“I swear I can’t wait to be married.” She whispered. “Then I won’t need to count our minutes together.”

“Soon.” Ten winked. “We are leaving this morning, right?”

“I think it would be ideal. Bhumi said that we can get to Akasha in two days, or we can cut some time, but we would not have Ipek anticipating any problems. It’s up to you.” She shrugged.

“We’ll do what is best at the moment, findi.” Ten smiled. “This nickname gets better and better just because it reminds me that it should be used by married people.”

“You are very keen to remember that we will get married.”

“In Agni, marriage is one of the best things that could happen to anyone, you know?” He let Y/N get out of his arms. “You can’t blame me for this.”

“I don’t blame you, but your excitement is so evident that it makes me look disinterested… And you know I’m not.”

“It’ll show up as soon as we have tied our strings.”

Y/N smiled at the mention, because the wedding rite in Akasha had, as one of the main points, to use strings. Each kingdom had its specific ritual, and they should be performed according to the bride and groom’s wishes (and the place they were in, regardless of their nationalities). When Y/N was learning about kingdoms and their cultures, she never imagined that she’d marry in Akasha, let alone with their celebration. She couldn’t wait to put it into practice.

“How’s the situation in Agni?” Y/N asked as she folded her clothes.

“Kinda stable.” Ten sat on the bed and removed his boots. “Dad thinks it’s a matter of time before it spreads to other regions other than the capital”.

“I hope nobody gets seriously hurt until we get this solved.”

“For now there was nothing.” he nodded. “Just two fires in abandoned houses. The big problem is that this affects the population indirectly; after all, you never know when they will start attacking them. Psychological terror is the worst weapon.”

“Do you think we’re going to make it worse by getting married?” Y/N swallowed.

“I think...” Ten looked at her, a small smile adorning his beautiful face. “That love is a force far greater than greed and power. If two prosperous kingdoms tied by love, and nothing but love, fails to reach everyone’s heart, then no alliance between two other kingdoms will change reality.” He held out his hand, looking for hers over the velvet dress. “I didn’t lie when I said I would set the world on fire if something hurt you, findi. It only takes one word and we return to our kingdoms.”

“No!” she denied fervently. “I won’t give you up. I only worry about these rebellions...” She shrugged. “But I love you, Ten. You know that, right?”

“Always.” he nodded. “Why don’t we rest before leaving?!”

☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼

The two of them really tried to rest, but the growing tension and adrenaline from their escape were too much. Long before planned, they were already on the road, heading towards Urvarak.

“It’s amazing how, despite the night, everyone lives normally. Look at how crowded the road is!” Y/N commented, surprised. “The Kingdom that never sleeps, really.”

“We have a stop in forty minutes. If you’re cold, I can stop to get the blanket from the trunk.” Ten, the gentleman he was, offered.

“I’m fine, findi. If anything, I can hug you and I’ll be warm soon.”

“If you don’t want to be attacked by my kisses, I advise you to stay away.”

“What if I want?” She raised her eyebrow.

“Seriously Y/N, I don’t know what to do with you!” he laughed. “We’ll definitely take the air route and get married as soon as possible.”

“It’s amazing how shy I still am with your flirty banters.” Y/N sighed, because in spite of being bold, that was not quite how she felt.

Sometimes she managed to keep on her carefree persona, but her feelings for Ten always made her embarrass herself. It summed up in a fool, enchanted by any movement or word spoken by him... Especially when they were addressed to her. Olum, how difficult it was to remain serious at public parties! Both of them needed to behave as if they didn’t like each other more than the “necessary”, as if they had priorities and not wished to spend every second together. Thanks to Bhumi, they were able to get away often and make some time to ease their longing.

“Ah, Rani Y/N,” he clicked his tongue. “why does this shyness never appear when it should?” His chestnut eyes flashed in a playful glow.

“Stop it, Ten!” She laughed, shyly. “but, I must confess, I don’t regret you being the first. In everything.”

“It would be a little too late to regret it, you know?” Ten pinned. “However, that does not diminish the pleasure of listening to your confession. I hope that, in addition to being your first, I’ll also be your last.”

“If we get to Akasha really fast...” She batted her well-trained lashes, like a she used to do when trying to manipulate her father into thinking she was sweet and innocent.

“It’s decided! At the next stop I’ll look for antelopes and tomorrow afternoon we’ll be married.” Ten shook his head like an indignant little boy.

“In my suitcase I have a Vayu scroll and I will make sure that it reaches Ipek as soon as possible.” Y/N winked at the groom.

“What a helpful wife I got!

“Olum, you can’t even imagine.” She grinned.

☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼

The innkeeper explained to them how to get to the antelopes in two stops. They had thirty minutes until there, and the horses were losing their pace along the way. Fear not, Y/N thought, since she already had everything worked out in her head!

Probably, her father would be finding out about her disappearance at that moment, and then he would start searching the palace and the gardens. Then, when he didn’t find her, he would request searches around the city. Then, the Royal Guard would issue a search warrant to all kingdoms, and perhaps Chittaphon’s parents would warn Vayu of his disappearance as well. Then they would finally come to conclusion of what happened to the two heirs, and if they were as smart as Y/N hoped, they would march to Akasha.

Only that it would be too late.

Because she’d be married!

Perfect.

The antelope route was really the best option.

“Maybe I can bend some air so the horses can rest. I can make sure no one notices that they’re floating...”

“You schemed.” Ten laughed. “I don’t know why I thought I wouldn’t do it.”

“Perhaps you’re so excited about the escape that you didn’t pay close attention.” She joked. Everyone knew how much Maharani Y/N loved to turn things into schemes. “Well, if my plan is right, we have about fifteen hours to get married and consummate it, avoiding, even if improbable, it to be nulled.” she laughed. “Therefore, we indeed have to take the air route.”

“Amazing, findi.” Ten winked.

☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼

Akasha was a wonderful city. Y/N visited there only twice: when she was born, and when she reached her adult age, so she had to seize her title of heiress. She remembered the big trees, especially the cherry ones, the colourful houses, the bright and clean streets, the undeniably blue sky... There never seemed to exist bad weather in Akasha! When they stopped in front of the temple where they would celebrate their wedding, Y/N’s heart raced. It was a large and flowery place, like a cottage, with symbols of the four kingdoms and their specific plants. Two carriages (one with her guards and the other with his) were waiting for them in the parking lot. Impatient, Ten grabbed her hand and they both entered the temple, drowning in emotion and adrenaline.

“Ready?”

“Always.” she smiled.

Ipek, who had been instructed to organize everything, was talking to two monks and the celebrator. As soon as she saw Her Highness, she ran to help her get ready. They couldn’t waste a second of the day!

The typical ceremonial dress Ipek got was cream coloured, adorned with gold accents, and a dark green – almost black – velvet cape that made the costume extremely elegant. From the bar to the knee, the lines formed spirals and points that resembled the starry sky or some forest/landscape seen from above. Her hair was braided with gold threads and cherry blossoms, because they were the symbol of Akasha. At her hands, in addition to the jewels she was supposed to wear, temporary ink tattooed the main crests of the four kingdoms extended from the wrist to the elbow, to indicate the union of these nations. On her feet, more drawings, up to the height of her shin. She should be barefoot, connecting to the nature and the land, as a sign of balance.

“Raja Chittaphon is ready.” Ipek returned to the salon where Y/N was dressed. “Now we just need the ornaments on the face and you can go!”

“I’m anxious.” Y/N exhaled. “Let’s get on with it soon!”

“I promise it will be very quick.”

After Ipek used powder from shiny stones and glued three diamonds above her left eyebrow, Y/N was ready.

Ipek and two guards accompanied her to the decorated courtyard, where those responsible for marrying her had started the blessing in Ten, preventing him from seeing her. Y/N watched, with her racing heart, the black and gold velvet suit he wore, a single cherry blossom attached to the left side of his chest.

“We’re ready.” The monk guided her to the entrance of the hall.

After a short speech in Akasha’s dialect, one of the monks began to play a harp, while Y/N crossed the room towards Ten, not knowing how to react to the prince’s brilliant and hypnotic gaze.

When they faced each other, the monk handed them a small vase with coloured sand. According to the ritual, the sand symbolized “the union of two different points in the name of something greater” in this case, love, and each one should pour a little of it on a plate, so that the mixture of colours creates a new one: their colour. Y/N watched wordlessly as a lilac originated from the mixture.

“Now hold hands.” The man responsible for the ceremony instructed. “This is the thread of companionship. For Akasha, you are one, but this does not mean that you should forget who you were before the wedding. One hand is tied to the partner’s, while the other is free to remind you that there is room for both to grow together and individually.” He tied the ribbon on their fist. “Still united, we will recite the vows and walk towards the end of the celebration.”

Y/N and Ten repeated each word very calmly, although their hearts were desperate for the end. After washing their feet in the water of the main river, Kundalini, to purify their bodies in this new phase, the couple still had to plant a tree as well, symbolizing their growth. And, to the sound of “Under the laws of Akasha, I declare you husband and wife”, several fireworks were lit. Ipek started the party by playing a soft melody over two lovers, and the people present continued with the dance. The newest couple stared at each other, laughing.

“I think this is our cue to escape... Findi.” The nickname now sounded a thousand times wicked in Ten’s voice. “Let’s go?”

“I was counting the seconds.” Y/N nodded, intertwining their fingers, as they still had one hand joined.

☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼

Ten undid the first tie of Y/N’s dress quite slowly. He had done it a few times, but at that moment, it was too special to ruin it in a hurry. They were finally married. He no longer needed to be quick with Y/N. Now they had all the time in the world to love each other as they deserved.

“Do you need help?” Y/N frowned.

“No, findi. I just want to... Take it slow.” The light entering the room made his eyes even brighter. “Because you deserve to be adored, from head to toe. Quietly. Every inch.” To demonstrate his words, he raised her fist and glued his mouth to it, running his tongue lightly over her soft skin.

“Ten...” She breathed weakly, it tickled.

“What?” He smiled. “‘Ah Ten’, ‘more Ten’, ‘please, Ten’?”

“Pretentious rake.” Y/N shook her head, feeling her heart explode with joy.

“Your pretentious rake. Your favourite rake. Yours, for eternity.”

She closed her eyes at those words. She was his, too, since the damn smile he gave her in the hall of Apas-Jal’s palace. Olum, how could one live with so much love inside them?! And how lucky had she been to feel that and be reciprocated?!

I’m staying up

I don’t wanna come down from your love

Ten pulled her close, melting his mouth on her neck, biting and sucking like he knew she liked. He wrapped his arms around her, throwing the damn tie to the floor. Y/N smelled extremely well, having washed and removed the tattoos she was supposed to use for the wedding ceremony. His fingers tangled in the fabric of her nightgown at the mere sound of her quiet moan, trying to go easy, to remain chill. He didn’t want to go fast. He had to stay calm.

“Let’s go to the bed, huh?” Y/N suggested, knees buckling from all those emotions.

“I tell you I want to take it easy and you urge me to go fast...” He shook his head, carefully guiding her to the huge mattress. “What should I do?”

“You can start by kissing me here.” She signalled from her collarbone to the valley between the breasts. Ten smiled. “Or, you can let me take off your clothes...”

It’s not that she didn’t want to be worshiped from head to toe, but if her calculations didn’t fail, someone from the Kingdom of Vayu would arrive in Akasha by the end of the afternoon... And if the wedding wasn’t consummated, they could be in trouble. She and Chittaphon never took more than thirty minutes with sex, because there were always too many people around and if they were five minutes late, someone would miss one of them. It was unfair that their first time since married had to be rushed too, but they would have a whole life together.

But, Y/N should be grateful. At least they were together.

“What are you thinking?”

“Schemes.” She joked.

“ Now, now, Rani Y/N, that was an unfortunate answer.” He started unbuttoning his shirt. “Guess I’ll need to be a little cruel this time. I don’t want you thinking about anything other than my mouth and my fingers on your body.”

“Or your dick.” Y/N smirked, satisfied with the provocation.

She closed her eyes and felt Ten’s lips come down over her shoulder, paiting small bites. With her legs spread, he found space to rest between her thighs while devouring each centimetre of the princess. Her calculations were forgotten as soon as his fingertips went up the hem of her dress, sliding down the inside of her thighs, making her shiver. He reached her underwear and touched her clothed womanhood.

“I want you to do that again.” Y/N moaned.

“Do what?”

“You know what.” She gasped when he brushed her swollen spot.

“I don’t know,” He commented wickedly. “But I have an idea of what it is… And for that, I will finally need to take your clothes off.” He couldn’t believe that after months he’d be able to see her completely naked again.

Rather than feeling shy, Y/N was more than willing to throw the sleeping dress away. They never had much time to get rid of all their clothes, so she was also counting on Ten naked. It had been a long time since she had had such a privilege to see him like that. And the view was always a spectacle!

She sat up suddenly, leaving him a little unbalanced, but grinning. Y/N started pulling on her nightgown anyway, not caring if she would tear it up. Ten could bent fire, but what burned inside her was pure lust. He would have a hard time controlling his wife, especially if he continued to look at her as if she were a work of art. But as soon as the fabric passed over her head, Y/N didn’t have time to absorb the intensity of his eyes. Ten pulled her by the hand, kissing her urgently.

With the princess in his lap, he got rid of his shirt and tried to open his trousers’ button. To give him enough space, Y/N stepped back a little, noting a new detail in his left arm: there were two lines near the elbow, one thick and the other a little thinner. Unlike the wedding tattoos, those lines seemed permanent.

“What is it?” She asked curiously.

“In Agni, every married man should have this tattoo. It is like a ring that we never take out or lose.” Ten looked at his arm. “Women should have these lines on their ankles, but since you are not from Agni, I thought it best not to ask you to tattoo it.”

“I want to!” She cut him off. “I’ll do it, if you want me to.”

“Really?” Ten smiled. He was always touched by Y/N’s loving manner. She was his best companion, in any situation. Even when they could get in trouble, Y/N would not leave him alone. She preferred that they’d get scolded together than to leave him. “Then, as soon as we wake up, I’ll ask the monk to arrange everything.”

“I think I will have a charming ankle.” She stretched out one leg, moving close to where Ten wanted her most. “Oh, oops...” Y/N smirked, faking a shy laugh.

“Findi, findi.” He shook his head, matching her smirk.

“Let me make up for the distraction.” Y/N moved away as she lowered her hands to his pants, finishing unbuttoning them.

“Your wish is my command, findi.”

We’ll get lost together

Let me flow

Ten swallowed hard as soon as he felt her mouth kissing his abdomen. Y/N was not ashamed of trying to please him. She was always receptive and creative, making each time something very unique and very special. Unlike what was expected of an Air Princess – known for being more reserved and a little cold. Y/N had fire inside her. She burned like him… Burned with him. For him.

With her delicate fingers, Y/N removed Ten’s pants, and began her exploration on his belly, playing with the fine line of hair up to the underwear he was wearing. It was unusual for her to dedicate themselves so much to foreplay, but she was loving seeing Ten so mesmerized by her movements. Very gently, Y/N took him with one hand, going on with a lazy back and forth motion, just to make him double hard and more desperate. Her eyes found the glowing chestnut globes and she smirked, causing a burst of pleasure to break inside Ten, who moaned loudly.

That was enough for him. Blast trying to prolong the moment! He needed Y/N and he needed her now. Pulling her by the chin, they came face to face.

“I miss you,” The distance between their mouths became even smaller. “around me.”

The kiss began sweet, slow, but charged with lust. Both were already familiar with the delicious sensations that any scarce touch between them provided, but nothing compared to the anxiety build during foreplay. It was very, very good. Their bodies were tickling and hot, their hearts beating fast and their minds remembering all those times when they were together.

How glorious it was when they met.

It was a different, more intense sensation. Y/N didn’t understand why she wanted to cry and laugh out loud, like a crazy girl. The tossed their underwear out, surrendering to the bubbling desire. Ten put her hands on his shoulders and smiled warmly, making the frenzy an act of zeal. He leaned down to kiss her again, and from there, it was automatic. Y/N’s hip followed its own will and moved, showing exactly what it was looking for. The kiss became wet and some moans escaped not so quietly. Ten’s husky voice was the turning point for the princess.

“Come here.” He asked in a whisper.

Ten turned her on the bed and stood over her, waist between her legs. He entered without warning, fast and strong. A louder than expected groan left her throat, earning a chuckle mixed with a grunt from the prince. Y/N brought her hands to his back, dividing her attention between his shoulder blades and his dark, silky hair. With a love bite at the junction of her neck and shoulder, Ten started to move. Slow and intense, but picking up as the seconds passed by. Y/N already knew what to do to please him, so she devoted herself to his neck, trying to occupy her mouth with something other than “Oh, Ten” or scandalous moans. He grabbed one of her thighs and wrapped it around her waist, managing to reach deeper. Then, he was thrusting hard and fast. Y/N rolled her eyes and arched her back, forgetting about the whole world.

This was perfect.

Her stomach churned with several knots of pleasure, the peak of her orgasm reaching its maximum when Ten grabbed her face and kissed her urgently. Y/N felt the spasms in every cell, not knowing if she was able to enjoy her climax and kiss Ten at the same time. The prince continued to dive deeper until he too reached his release, making her want to get there again. Y/N slipped a hand to her swollen spot and began to rub it, tightening her muscles even more and listening to Ten’s sexy growls. And it worked.

Don’t ever let me come down from your love

From your love, from your love

☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼

Ten examined his wife’s ankle, amused by the way she didn’t try to pretend that the tattoo was a “big deal”.

“I still don’t understand why you didn’t want to tell me that this was common in Agni.” She lowered her dress’ skirt. “It looks rather cute on my ankle, doesn’t it?”

“You look rather cute, indeed.”

“Not me, the tattoo you didn’t want to tell me about!” She grinned.

“Are we going to talk about this again?” He hugged her, placing a sweet kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, anyway, for accepting. I love you.”

“My pleasure.” Y/N waved her hand. “Love you more.”

Ten offered her a glass of water and a cookie, because she hadn’t eaten breakfast in her desperation to get the tattoo. The monk finished cleaning the room and excused himself, but as soon as he left, Ipek hurried in.

“Rani Y/N! Rani Y/N!”

“What is it, Ipek?” Y/N disengaged herself from Ten’s embrace and stood up.

“Samraat Bhima is here... And he didn’t come alone.” Ipek pointed to the window.

When she pulled the curtain, Y/N could see Vayu’s flags extending across a large part of the street, accompanied by some of Agni’s. She turned to Ten in a mixture of concern and joy. It was time to announce to the kingdoms what they had done. And to hope that love would be enough.

“Olum, findi, it looks like we have some nations to win back.” She grinned.

And hand in hand, they went out to face the nations of Air and Fire.

#ten scenarios #ten smut #nct scenarios #nct smut #wayv scenarios #wayv smut #superm scenarios #superm smut #nct ten #wayv ten #superm ten #ten chittaphon #chittaphon x reader #happytenday

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lailoken · 4 years

Text

Exorcism by Knife:

A Welsh Magical Tradition

One traditional practice I learned of growing up is that of the Exorcism by Knife—an occult concept that has analogues across cultures, but is uniquely Welsh within the context of my traditions.

The Exorcism by Knife is a Welsh notion, encompassing the belief that a blade can be employed to ward off Faeries of malevolent intent. While this is best undertaken by a Faerie Intercessor (such as a Faery Doctor), it appears that even a common knife in the hand of a common man was believed enough to keep away a member of the The Gwyllion (a sect of Welsh Faeries often believed to inhabit the mountains, and generally seen as malicious.) Despite the insularly Wesh quality of this practice, there is an old superstition, widely prevalent throughout Europe, which says that to receive a blade or scissors from a friend or give one as a gift yourself will result in a “cutting” of the friendship, lest the gift receiver pay back the gift giver with some form of money—however small. While there are some tentative connections to be made between these traditional beliefs, the definitive origins of the Welsh Exorcism remain obscured. The custom goes back for at least several centuries, with multiple accounts referencing the act in the 18th and 19th centuries; however, it is likely that the practice stems, in one way or another, from the traditional belief—shared throughout much of the Celtic world—that a Faery will not tolerate the touch of cold iron.

In Wales, it is said that the Gwyllion often found their way into the homes of the people living in the parish of Aberystruth, particularly during stretches of stormy weather. The occupants of those homes entered by the Gwyllion were known to welcome the Faeries, showing all deference possible, for fear of inviting ill-luck and injury upon themselves, should they offend a Gwyll. Offense was, therefor, avoided by providing clean water for them and taking special care to assure that no blade was in, or directed towards, the hearth-side corner, where the faeries were widely believed to sit and rest by the fire.

Though such shows of inhospitality were to be avoided at all costs when dealing with the Gwyllion, it was still deemed widely acceptable in most of Wales for one to wield a blade in the open air, so as to keep any malicious Faery at bay who might want to cross a traveler and do them harm. Below, I include two accounts of the custom, which I came across while reading British Goblins (Wirt Sikes, 1880.)

“Robert Williams, of Langattock, Crickhowel, 'a substantial man and of undoubted veracity,' tells this tale: As he was travelling one night over part of the Black Mountain, he saw the Old Woman, and at the same time found he had lost his way. Not knowing her to be a spectre he hallooed to her to stay for him, but receiving no answer thought she was deaf. He then hastened his steps, thinking to overtake her, but the faster he ran the further he found himself behind her, at which he wondered very much, not knowing the reason of it. He presently found himself stumbling in a marsh, at which discovery his vexation increased and then he heard the Old Woman laughing at him with a weird, uncanny crackling old laugh. This set him to thinking she might he a gwyll; and when he happened to draw out his knife for some purpose, and the Old Woman vanished, then he was sure of it; for Welsh ghosts and fairies are afraid of a knife.”

“The cases of successful exorcism by knife are many, and nothing in the realm of faerie is better authenticated. There was Evan Thomas, who, travelling by night over Bedwellty Mountain, towards the valley of Ebwy Fawr, where his house and estate were, saw the Gwyllion on each side of him, some of them dancing around him in fantastic fashion. He also heard the sound of a bugle-horn winding in the air, and there seemed to be invisible hunters riding by. He then began to be afraid, but recollected his having heard that any person seeing Gwyllion may drive them away by drawing out a knife. So he drew out his knife, and the fairies vanished directly.”

#welsh folklore #welsh magic #gwyllion #Faerie Faith #faerie folk #faerie #the fae #tylwyth teg #faery

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aceoftrashies · 3 years

Note

(Aaa ty,, And ikr! :0 Something about them just- idk man, they’d just give me so much serotonin,,)

Here’s the list so far! (Bear with me here, these are all over the place, and are absolutely subject to change-)

Asra

•Fairly quiet & airy; casual. Usually comes in two’s or three’s. •God even his sneezes sound sleepy- •Probably not allergic to much- but if it’s cold enough out, they’ll probable catch a chill; or if their magic goes awry, it might trigger a small fit. •Maybe sensitive to dander?? Or even sensitive to touch (Mainly based on that one paid option in their reversed ending,, where a moth lands on their nose and,,, h) •Likely runs warm; not very pleasant to cuddle during the summer, but that won’t stop them from trying,,

Nadia

•Refined, polite; often stifled. •Probably sensitive to certain animals, fur & dust? •Not likely to fall ill, but it’s not unheard of. •Probably runs cold; warms up easily, though. •Likely the type to keep handkerchiefs and cloths on hand. (Edit: canonically carries around a handkerchief,, I,,,,) •Seasonal Prakran fevers, how fun,,

Julian

Ohhh lord, bare with me here,,

•Sudden/abrupt, a bit breathy; typically stifled or muffled into the crook of his coat/collar. •Usually falls into relentless & harsh fits, and apologizes with every breath in between. •If he’s feeling especially desperate for attention, they’ll often be much more dramatic/loud, although still “polite”. •Oh dear fucking christ, this poor fool can’t catch a break •Can’t seem to keep his balance,, Drunk sneezes are absolutely guaranteed to send him off his feet; will probably hold onto the MC or any nearby friends to keep himself from toppling over during a fit. •Despite being a doctor, he can’t seem to keep himself from catching a chill whenever he’s out and about (just button up your shirt, Julian, come on)- and he certainly doesn’t seem to know how to take care of himself. It’s gotten much worse since he gave up his mark/“curse”. •Not sensitive to much, but occasionally feathers, strong perfumes/colognes and sudden shifts in temp can spur a fit. •Might also have hay fever? Or he might just be allergic to foreign flowers & spices- fits come pretty rarely, though- •Canonically runs cold; good luck keeping this lanky dork warm in the winter. Probably pleasant to cuddle during the summer, though. •If the MC ends up falling ill, he’ll waste no time fussing over them every chance he gets, and will be obnoxiously clingy and concerned throughout. •Will undoubtably catch the MC’s cold/fever afterwards, that’s pretty much guaranteed. /hj

Can you tell which one’s my favorite /hj

(Gonna put the other 3 in a separate ask, because I feel like this is,, excessive as is ahsvHSVSHV,, my apologies-)

oh my godd,,

these are *chefs kiss*

also i don't blame you in the slightest, julian is also my fav

OKAY OKAY HOLD ON

you know how plague doctors stuffed flowers and herbs in their masks to prevent them from smelling the corpses?

julian could be allergic when he does that during the red plague,,

his sneezes are just like him; ✨loud and dramatic✨

#♠️ anon #the arcana sneeze content

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theouterbankpogues · 4 years

Text

after sarah doesn’t invite kiara to her birthday party (a jj x kiara fic)

author : theouterbankpogues aka vi

fandom : jj x kie, jiara | outer banks on netflix

tags : the angst, the fluff, the hurt, the comfort y’know!!

warnings : none

i love writing for this ship bc it has a chokehold on me and i just... i’m so helpless lmao. i read this hc set by @lemon-patches (which you should definitely go and read bc it’s amazing and all the feelings) and it talked about how jj and ki were each other’s first kiss and no one else knows. this is basically how i imagine it happened. enjoy!! as always the validation feeds me so yeah if you like it pls share it and stuff (i love reading tags on reblogs so lmao do with that what u will). i imagine they are 15/16, about 6-8 months before s1 idk if that adds up but lol thats what i went with. sorry for any errors u may find xx

a little preview so u know what you’re getting into hehe: “They stood like that for a while, long and quiet breaths synced, arms entangled in waist and shoulders, hearts rhythmically beating, just enjoying the warmth of the best friend they dearly missed.”

Tears streamed down Kiara’s face. She knew that calling the cops was petty, she knew it was the worst of her manifesting itself, but tonight Ki couldn’t bring herself to care. She found herself toppling some books off of her bookshelf. She had always known that she wasn’t good enough for Sarah. The Sarah Cameron. God, she felt so stupid.

Another wave of regret coursed through her. The pit of her stomach hollowed when she re-remembered that she’d actually listened to her parents and decided to give her kook year a genuine try. She had distanced herself from the cut and the pogues, her best friends, the people that she could always count on, the people who always cared. She gave it all up for the superficial bullshit she knew would eventually fall apart.

That entire evening, the anger and regret approached her in harsh and unforgiving turns. She couldn’t escape her own thoughts, she was so mad at herself. She had let herself become vulnerable, given herself up for someone to use and dispose. She felt so weak. All she really wanted to do was fit in, to have a normal year where she wasn’t disappointing her parents, where she wasn’t out at unreasonable hours getting her friends out of messes, watching their string of luck grow thinner and thinner with every prank and practical joke. She was tired of being the middle between the kooks and pogues, she loved the latter and she could’t escape the part of her that was the former. She just wanted to resign to one side, she just wanted things to get easier. Kiara had decided to leave everything for some peace of mind, and now she knew she’d made a mistake. She hadn’t even checked in with John B, his dad was missing and she hadn’t even checked in with him. God, she felt so stupid. Her sobs overtook her as she sat at her bed.

She was so exhausted from the crying she could scream, it had been a few long hours. And Ki, in a moment of clarity, convinced herself that she was too strong for that. Even though she felt horrible, she reminded herself that she was too careful to let this anger get the best of her. Instead, she resorted to taking a few deep breaths and cleaning up the various books and stationary strewn across her bedroom floor as a remnant of her anger. What had happened had happened, she was just going to have to figure out how to cope on her own.

Yeah, I just have to figure it out on my own. I’ll be fine.

That’s when she heard it.

Thud.

Thud. Thud.

Thud.

‘What the-’

She realised that the sound was coming from her window. Stepping toward the side of her room facing the balcony, she realised that pebbles were currently being thrown at her window by a silhouette below it. She couldn’t tell who it was because the backdoor lights had been switched off for the night. It was well past midnight and her parents were soundly sleeping in the next room, she swore she would never forgive the person currently trying to break her window if they woke up. She didn’t want anyone to see her as the mess she was right now. So as quickly and as safely as Kiara could, she opened the balcony window, “What the actual— JJ? JJ is that you?” Kiara couldn’t really understand what was going on, she had stopped talking to the pogues months ago.

“Yeah, hey Ki! Come down!”

“What?”

“You heard me bro, get dressed and come down!”

After a curt nod, she went back into her room, changed out of her PJ’s into some joggers and a hoodie and found herself sneaking out the back door out of genuine curiosity. When she was outside, she realised that neither Pope nor John B were with JJ. Along with that, she realised that he had two boxes of pizza and some beer cans set down on the grass next to him.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I was scrolling through Instagram, realised you weren’t at the party, thought you might need a pick me up,” He seemed to register her tired face and puffy eyes under the dim starlight because he continued, “guess I was right!”

And that’s how, twenty minutes later, JJ and Ki found themselves in a clearing near her house. They sat down opposite each other, the pizza boxes separating them.

“Got your favourite, double cheese, double pepperoni and half the jalapeño.”

Except for the occasional direction here and there, Ki had been quite their entire walk. She couldn’t really even process what was happening. How was JJ here? Why was he talking to her after she’d treated them him like shit the past few months? None of it made sense to her, least of all why this was all from JJ. With all of it perplexing her, the only thing she managed to say was, “You remembered.”

‘Yeah of course I did Ki, just because you stopped talking to us doesn’t mean we stopped caring about you. Come on, dig in, it’s getting cold.”

She didn’t know how to respond to him so she just followed him in picking up a slice from the box. Warm pizza , cold beer and melted cheese heavily complemented the gentle breeze that surrounded them. They fell into a comfortable silence as they ate.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I know Ki-”

“No, everything I did these past few months, the way I cut you guys off, the way I left y’all when you needed me I-”

“Ki we know-”

“God, I’ve been so stupid, I left you guys, like y’all were nothing, y’all needed me and I-”

“Ki, Ki-” Ki just continued, she felt horrible, “KIARA!” JJ saying her full name was so foreign to her, especially since he hadn’t even call her by her nickname these past few months, it undoubtably got her to stop talking.

“I know the pressure your parents put on you to start at that kook academy. Look we all know how hard it is for you to manage these two parts of your life. I know Ki, you don’t have to keep apologising, I know. We know! Why do you think we didn’t try to talk to you when you told us last summer? We want you to do what’s best for you Ki, you are better than us.” At that, Kiara got up and paced back and forth a few steps, remorse hitting her unbearably.

“I’m not better than any of you. A part of me wanted to leave you all behind.”

JJ’s response was almost instantaneous, “I don’t blame you for it!”

“Well you should! I left you and Pope. I left John B for god’s sake. His dad is most probably dead and I wasn’t theRE.... I-I’m not there.”

At this point the tears had returned to her and she broke on her last word. Her voice wasn’t steady anymore. “I left all of you... I left you.”

JJ couldn’t stand hearing Ki like this, there’s nothing he hated more than having to let down his guard and get real. But JJ, when she said that, realised that this wasn’t about him.

“Yeah Ki you did, but fuck that. We know you love us, we know that it was a difficult call! You have to forgive yourself. The reason I came tonight was to let you know that you have the people that care about you Ki.”

He stepped toward her and looked her right in the eye, Ki had never seen someone so determined with compassion before, “Whatever you do Ki - if you wanna go to the kook academy, if you wanna be friends with Sarah Cameron, if you wanna cry about how horribly she treated you, if you wanna listen to your parents and not talk to us, if you wanna leave the cut- we’re never not going to have your back. You’re a pogue. You’re our pogue! And if Sarah Cameron can’t see how kickass you are, she doesn’t deserve you and she never did. You got us Ki, we’re always right here. No matter what.”

And throughout all of that, he hadn’t stopped looking directly at her. She was enamoured to say the least, she couldn’t remember the last time JJ talked about something that real, let alone carry an entire conversation himself. Knowing her words wouldn’t suffice, she hugged him. She smelt the sea salt in his hair and pizza grease on his shirt and it was the epitome of comfort to her. JJ hugged her right back, it meant the world to him that he could make her feel at least a bit better. They stood like that for a while, long and quiet breaths synced, arms entangled in waist and shoulders, hearts rhythmically beating, just enjoying the warmth of the best friend they dearly missed.

Before they could completely untangle from the other, Ki looked back at JJ, god, how did she get so lucky to have someone like him in her life? The air lightened around them as she looked at him, his eyes regained the mischievous glint they always had. It might’ve been because she was slightly tipsy, or because he was staring so intently at her, but for some reason, it felt right. There was no waiting or thinking, she rested her hands on either side of JJ’s face and kissed him. His lips were chapped and they tasted like beer but she loved it. A rush of adrenaline ran through her, it was new and exciting.

When JJ processed her soft lips on his, and her hands caressing his face, he pulled back. Along with confusion and surprise, there was something in his eyes that Ki couldn’t recognise. But before she decided on asking him what it was about, he was already kissing her again.

And this time there seemed to be nothing holding him back. His hands were wrapped around her waist, she was grabbing fistfuls of his hair in reciprocation. They knew that they would never be able to do it again so they just gave in. His hands travelled to the small of her back and her neck and she swore that she had never felt something more intoxicating.

Ki had forgotten where they even were when they broke for air. They were both just breathing, eyes closed and foreheads touching, it was the closest thing to perfect the either of them had ever felt.

When they opened their eyes and looked back at one and other, they were surprised at how comfortable it felt. How... un-awkward, it oddly felt right. But they knew what the rules were, they knew that when Ki got home, they would never talk about it again, and they were fine with that too.

As they approached her doorstep, JJ couldn’t help himself but ask, “Was that your first-” “Yeah.” “Yeah, mine too.” “What?” Kie thought he was joking, JJ had flirted with every other tourist at the boneyard since they were like ten, “Mine, too.” He repeated. There was an honesty to his response that stopped Ki from asking any further.

She hugged him again. “Thank you for this. I missed you.” He hugged her right back.

“I missed you too. When you come back to us, more beer will be waiting for you no questions asked, don’t ever doubt it.” With that, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead and left.

Ki had a small smile playing on her lips; she had never felt lighter in her life.

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adhdeancas · 3 years

Text

Sunset Sound: Us and Them

Chapter two of my fic is live! thank you again to my buddy/beta reader/on staff cas!girl (masculine) @friedchickenangelwings

Fic Summary: Everything is the same up to the end of 15x20. Chuck has been “defeated,” but it was all a farce. When Jack absorbed Chuck, Chuck easily took over the 3 year old’s body and acted as if he were defeated. Chuck!Jack then had the Rusty Nail placed in the barn where Dean died, and with Cas gone, Dean didn’t fight it. Chuck did reimagine Heaven, but he’s fed the same lie to them all: that everything is perfect, they are free, they are in real paradise. Except it’s all an illusion insulated by blue skies and endless horizons. Because, just like the Good Place, people make Heaven into Hell for each other. And there’s nothing Chuck loves more than the natural order of tragedy. He “let it slip” to Bobby that he brought Cas back, when he really left him to rot in the Empty. Dean has to find his best friend before it’s too late, and he has to keep a happy face for everyone else, because Chuck is watching. Always watching.

The Empty is alive, and it’s full of chaos. Angels and demons alike battle and bicker. The noise is deafening. It’s overwhelming.

That’s even without the voice. It’s singular, in his head. It hisses at him from all around. You killed yourself for a man who didn’t even love you. You’re pathetic. You should just lay down and accept it. You did this to yourself, after all. That’s why you’re here.

Cas’s hands are shaking. He holds onto his lapels, but the feeling of the cloth is somehow worse than the shaking. He takes them away and crouches down. He wants to tear his hair out. The Empty isn’t just surrounding all of them, it’s surrounding him. It hates him. It presses in and threatens to suffocate him. He wants to accept it, but then he has one thought. Of Dean.

Dean Winchester, beautiful even in his desperation, looking to Cas for hope. That’s why Cas is here. Cas can’t lose hope. No, he can’t. Dean wouldn’t want Cas to lay down and die. “Dean. D-d-Dean. Dean.” Yes. That’s a good thought. That will work. Cas pushes back. He stands up. He manages to hold the Empty’s force back and take a breath.

“Dean. Dean. Do it for… Dean.”

He doesn’t know how long he holds there, screaming at the Empty, muttering Dean’s name, promising himself he won’t give up. Beings tear into him, pummeling him. The Empty presses bruise after hopeless thought into his head.

A broken toy clinging to its owner. Dean, Dean! It’s sad, really. He’s happy you’re gone. He’s happy to be rid of you. Lucifer’s vessel mocks him, standing in front of him without any real form. The Empty.

It feels like at least an eternity before the pressure lets up.

There’s a growl and a tear and the Empty flees.

“Blimey, Feathers, what’d you do to piss that one off?”

Cas closes his eyes and wishes for a deeper void to swallow him. Unfortunately, none do. He opens them and faces the demon in front of him. “Crowley.”

Crowley wipes a splash of Empty off his face and pockets his blade. “Castiel. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Cas crosses his arms. A huge part of him is sighing in relief to see a familiar - if not totally friendly - face in this pit of despair. That doesn’t mean he’s going to show it, though. “Why did you help me?”

The chaos rages on around them, this time without the added assault of the Empty trying to torture them. Crowley grumbles and shoves a demon that falls into him, turning an annoyed glare at Cas. “I don’t know about you, pretty boy, but it’s a bit cramped for me in here. Fancy a walk?”

Cas frowns at him. “A walk? Where?”

Crowley rolls his eyes and grabs Cas’s arm roughly. He tugs the angel in a direction he apparently knows. “Away. Come on, I know a spot.”

Walking through the Empty is confusing. It has no substance and yet it all seems uphill, which is... infuriating. Crowley doesn’t make it much better. He complains about the walk or the fighting and when he doesn’t, he makes sexual innuendos about the people they pass. Through it all, he only stops a few times to mentally fend off some unseen force, the Empty’s undoubtable influence working at his defenses. It’s minute, the flicks and mutters, but for Crowley, the outer signs of weakness are monumental.

“What is it, for you?” Cas asks almost without thinking, his curiosity getting the better of him. Crowley glares, but Cas can’t be scared by his only ally.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetums,” Crowley smiles through clenched teeth.

Cas sighs. He wants to work with Crowley; he wants to not be so alone amongst the misery. He doesn’t know if that means pressing or falling back. “The Empty. The… regrets. The memories.”

“Don’t have ‘em.”

“Cut the crap.”

Crowley’s eyes flicker to a spot to the right of Cas, and Cas turns to look. There’s no one there, no one that he can see, anyway. “Feathers. You wanna play Hannibal Lector or you wanna get the hell out of here?”

Cas shakes his head and concedes. Crowley isn’t going to speak about it, at least right now. The demon seems to appreciate it, because he turns and keeps going, shoulders set more tightly now. Cas tries as much as he can to ignore the

“Here we are, home sweet… formless void.” Crowley gestures with a flourish to a part of the nothingness which is oddly devoid of angels and demons. Castiel reluctantly follows after him. It seems like a tunnel to Cas. Crowley stops after a bit and they sit, taking the break for what it is. Cas sits criss cross on the ground, despite Crowley’s condescending looks. The demon opts for leaning up against a darker spot, a leap of faith. It holds him up, just Castiel’s luck. “So what’s the plan, angel?”

“Plan?” Cas narrows his eyes. “What plan? You found me.”

Crowley rolls his eyes. “Word on the street is you had a hand in starting all this. You did, didn’t you?”

Cas looks away, not wanting to admit it. “It was… my child.” Jack is the only one with the power to wake up the Empty, let alone all the souls resting there. Jack, his child, that he hadn’t gotten the chance to say goodbye to.

That’s right. You just left him without a second thought. Some father you are. More like an endless cycle, absent father breeds absent father. He sees Claire, hate in her eyes he hasn’t seen since she was young.

Crowley blinks, forgetting to be smarmy in his shock. “You’ve got a kid? Hell, I didn’t think you-” Cas glares at him. He knows what the demon had been thinking, and he is done with people making fun of him for it. “Oh… your ‘kid.’” Crowley remembers himself. “So what, raised yourself a little mojo machine, did you? Swaddled it and sang it Led Zeppelin in the back of the Impala?”

Cas grits his teeth and rises up. He has Crowley pinned by his neck against the wall before he can get another word out, and Crowley just raises an eyebrow at him. “If this… alliance is going to work, at all, you are going to drop the snide comments. Understand?” The last look he saw on Dean’s face is still clear in his head, and he will not have it be tainted with taunts.

Crowley seems unmoved. “But pudding, that’s half my charm,” he purrs, batting his eyelashes.

Cas releases him with a grunt. “You have no charm.”

“I think your pet human would attest otherwise.”

“Why did you help me?” Cas’s patience is wearing thin. Crowley seems to realize it, because he drops his arms, looking annoyed at the end in banter.

Crowley’s eyes flicker past Cas again, and he is reminded that the Empty is having an effect on the demon as well. “Because I want out of here, you giraffe. And I’m fairly certain that if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my several lifetimes, it is that the Winchesters always have a way out.” He admits it grudgingly. “And you, my fine feathered friend, are my best bet to get to them.”

Cas stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Well, the Winchesters aren’t here. And they aren’t coming. So you might want to rethink your plan.”

Crowley rolls his eyes and grabs Cas’s hand, swinging it between them for effect. “Too late, Snookums, we’re hitched. We’re getting out of here, one way or another. So get. On. Board. I don’t have time for your pity party.” He looks Cas in the eye, watches as the defiance slowly drains out of them to be replaced by reluctant agreement. “Great. Now, what are the Hardy Boys up to on the blue marble?”

Cas shrugs. “I assume they are defeating God. As planned.”

Crowley closes his eyes, trying to find the strength. “God.”

“Yes.”

“They got on the bad side of God?”

“Yes, well, Chuck wanted-”

“No, you know what, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.” He holds up his hands in defense. “After they deal with God, what’s the plan? How will they rescue Columbo this time?”

Cas sighs. “There is no plan, Crowley. I was being serious.” Crowley is somewhat shaken.

“Well, fine, but they’re bloody well going to come for you. Aren’t they?”

Cas swallows the lump in his throat. His mind flashes back to telling Dean he loves him, to the shocked and frozen expression on his face. It didn’t matter to him then, Dean not feeling the same way, but now? Dean might not want him back. But then he remembers Jack, scared and burdened and hopelessly naive to the world. Cas isn’t even sure there will be an earth to go back to, but he is sure that he has to make sure Jack is okay. He has to get back to his child, come what may.

He looks back at Crowley with a frown. This demon is his only hope, now. “Yes, yes, of course.”

Tag list: (send me an ask/dm to be added/removed)

@dochunterwitch @justonecitizenoftheearth @gnbrules @purpe @castiel-is-a-cat

#sunset sound #chapter two #fanfic #my writing #destiel #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #us and them

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jesswritesthat · 4 years

Text

Tamaki Amajiki: Partners

Fandom: BNHA // MHA — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: Fluff

• Tamaki finds you as a welcomed relief to the overpowering attention of grateful civilians.

Warnings: None

A/N: One for the lovely shy boi, and my first one for Boku No Hero Academia!

>>>>——————————>

Against popular belief of at least 90% of the hero roster, taking down the villain was the easy part - for Suneater at least.

He'd desperately hoped that working besides Fatgum in a more realistic environment compared to the training sessions subject to peers and judgment at U.A would allow him to grow more comfortable with public attention but he was sorely disappointed with his lack of progress.

Of course, Taishiro and yourself grew to understand his behaviours since working together and he was certain Kirishima was picking up on them too with how he always attempted to provide some form of radiant positivity.

Admittedly Tamaki had grown accustomed to your intertwining paths from the moment you'd both started at U.A, you were fascinated by his quirk and quick to compliment him on his skills. However, he failed at answering any questions you'd thrown his way in that moment - frankly too awestruck by the genuine smile that adorned your lips, one that'd put the sun to shame in his eyes, and by the fact you were talking to him.

"Sorry, before gushing over you like that I should've introduced myself. I'm (Y/n) (L/n)." He knew that already, finding your quirk and personality rather interesting since your recent sparring match against Mirio.

"I..." All you were subtly asking was his name and he couldn't even muster that much - you must think he's incredibly rude.

Fortunately, his aforementioned friend practically skidded to his side with a contrastingly radiating level of energy, Mirio miraculously already on a first name basis with you.

"This is Amajiki Tamaki, or Suneater but he's quite shy (Y/n)."

"My bad, I might've come across rather abruptly but I'd love to get to know you guys better. Feel free to talk or train with me anytime, you're both so talented so I'd appreciate it." You’d winked to the both of them before heading off to your next sparring match, Mirio calling after your figure.

"Count on it!"

Even after that first encounter, you tried your luck by asking to train with him, initiating conversations when the opportunity arose and he'd be lying if he didn't appreciate it which was evident by his responses, even if Tamaki didn't think so.

It was no secret you had hit it off effortlessly with Mirio more so, part of him envious of his friends ability to achieve a level of disclosure he deemed unattainable. But it was undeniably established that Tamaki was also a close friend, so it was an understatement to say his anxieties were significantly calmed when Fat Gum requested the both of you to intern at his agency. Your bonds with each other undoubtably became closer after that, the time at U.A certainly played a part but after a year at the agency you were allowed to take patrols alone together which counted as quality time and reflected in your relationship.

None of that mattered right now though, the aforementioned Pro-Heroes being nowhere in sight and it was times like these where he wished to possess your teleportation quirk. A villain duo had disrupted your patrol, and without Fat Gum in proximity you were to handle it alone which regretfully lead to splitting up. Like you, he had faith in your abilities but remaining unaware of your well-being left him uneasy and this only grew once he'd won and you'd yet to appear. After successfully handing the small time villain over to the police, a crowd had gathered to drown him in praise and gratitude which had the opposing effect - could the ground please swallow him? Worse, the journalists had less respect for personal space due to their demand for information and it was in this frantic internal panic did he finally spot your bright light.

There were the (f/c) sparks from your quirk but that wasn't the one that drew him like moth to a flame - you probably didn't even realise you emitted such an alluring brightness, like Mirio you'd become a torch in his life that eliminated his darkness.

There wasn't thought to his next actions, it was instinct to evade anxiety inducing situations and this now counted as one, although he worried about what you'd think of him and how you'd react to an unpredictable act of physical affection that he'd dare not even consider initiating.

A breath of relief escaped you, the atmosphere proving testament to Suneaters victory even if you hadn't found him yet - it was a step, a single movement before you were suddenly enveloped in a comforting but desperate warmth. Arms tightly encircled your torso but held a gentleness to them, Tamaki burying his face in your neck and it was the uneven breaths on your skin that lead you to understand his uncharacteristically expressive behaviour.

Within a split second you activated your quirk once more, teleporting you both to a nearby rooftop away from the commotion and overwhelming crowds as you now ran your fingers through your friends hair.

"I got you Amajiki, no worries." Your voice was naturally soothing to Tamaki, but the softness accompanying it this time melted him.

Mentally, his thoughts were screaming at him to break the embrace to save embarrassment and awkwardness - yet his body refused to move, completely enchanted by your touch and the feel of your breaths next to his ear and simply didn't wish to for it’s own benefit.

"Th-thanks (Y/n), and I'm sorry." The mumble against your neck sent shivers down your spine, not used to being so close to him despite his shy personality remaining intact.

"Ah, don't apologise. You did great out there by the way, handled it perfectly from what I saw."

"You too (Y/n), as always. I just I don't understand how you take public attention so well, don't they intimidate you with their questions?" He pulled back slightly, meeting your gaze but keeping a loose hold on your waist - he likely didn't realise he was doing so.

You laughed softly, a finger being brought to your lips as you pondered his question fondly before deciding on an answer that'd hopefully inspire him.

"Yes of course, but I already faced my biggest fear regarding people so it's not so scary in comparison."

"Really, what was it? Ah - um if you don't mind me asking..."

"It was - actually talking to you..." You nervously professed, knowing his considerate nature regarding your own worries would likely lead him to follow up on such a revelation.

"Oh, I guess I came off rather rude when we first met... I - I should've made more of an effort, I never meant to cause you any kind of anxiety (Y/n)-" He was disappointed and almost guilty, memories of your first encounters resurfacing where most of which displayed you making the effort purely because he was too anxious to do so himself. Thinking you found communication as no hinderance, it didn't cross his mind how nervous you must've felt in coming up to him nor the consciousness you must've held when learning his social boundaries as to not overstep them. You were too pretty and far too kind for him.

"No, no Tamaki it's okay, that's not entirely what I meant. And besides, you showed it through actions rather than words like always having a spare pen when I forgot mine, by buying my favourite foods if I was down, or patching me up after training and simply being by my side. All that was enough for me, I promise I appreciate every minute I get to spend with you."

"(Y/n)... I - I um..." Patiently you waited, wearing a smile as you assumed your words likely left his mind spiralling based on the heat rising on his skin but after a few moments he'd empowered himself with false confidence.

"So, you're saying that confronting your biggest social barrier helps?" His inquiry was off topic and didn't align with the flush of his cheekbones, yourself feeling slightly exposed after speaking so openly like that only for him to pull the least important aspect from your justification.

"Ye-yeah."

"Then I - I really like you (Y/n), more than a... more than a friend."

"Amajiki -" You we're caught completely off guard, it became apparent that he'd mentally psyched himself up for a long time and nothing would be capable of disrupting the upcoming word vomit.

"I think you're beautiful, your smile brings light on even the darkest days and I see you as a truly radiant person even if you don't. You - you aren't expected to reciprocate but confessing to you is the most terrifying thing to me which is partly why I'm trying, that and you gave me the confidence to do it... as you do many things... I'm just happy you exist and I don't deserve you but please, I don’t want to lose our friendship over my feelings.”

The meaning in them, the sheer amount of thought and emotion he'd infused into his confession had silenced you, instead only gazing at him with loving eyes and an unbridled smile that doubled his already fast heart rate. By the way he’d spoken, it was as though he already assumed you’d reject them which of course would never have been the case.

"I was only nervous about talking to you because I had a crush on you, after getting to know you better it developed into more so I’m not letting you off so easily. Can I - um..." You replied in an equally heartfelt manner, narrowing the distance before hesitating and flicking your gaze to the ground in order to mentally prepare.

It was then you felt a feather like touch on your lips, so brief you thought you’d imagined it if not for the flustered hero before you - about 2 seconds away from a panic attack. Gratefully you breathed a sigh of relief, pulling him back and eliminating any distance between your bodies as you pressed your lips to his this time and once over his initial shock, Tamaki wasted no time in reciprocating, humming as your fingers entangled in his soft strands. Moments after enjoying the satisfaction, you pulled away simply taking the time to admire the other in a comfortable atmosphere.

“We came as soon as we saw the news, are you two - oh ho, it seems you're both more than fine." Admittedly, you missed the brief mutter of "Finally." coming from the Pro shortly after interrupting.

Instantly you parted, Tamaki being too flustered with the combination of everything to formulate a plausible reply at the moment which led you to explain rather casually.

"Aha, yeah the um, kiss - cops - took the villains into custody so we're good to go now."

"No no, you two have done enough tonight - grab dinner together or something." Fat Gum proudly smirked, waving the two of you confused young adults off as he began to walk away with Red Riot eagerly walking backwards with a grin.

"Confessing under the stars, on a rooftop... that's so manly guys."

"Thanks Red, later!" You winked, playfully nudging an embarrassed Tamaki who stared off at the skyline before meeting your gaze with an expression of pure contentment as he laced his fingers with yours.

"Bring me back some food if you go though, I'm starving." Fat Gum quickly called back with a wide grin, the two of you happily agreeing.

#tamaki amajiki #tamaki amajiki imagine #tamaki amajiki x reader #bnha #bnha imagine #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #boku no hero imagines #boku no hero x reader #anime x reader #anime imagine

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jadekitty777 · 4 years

Text

Transmission Error

Fun fact - I have written two stories within four days. Even funner fact - the other one is much cuter than this one but I can’t reveal it quite yet as it’s for the Qrow shipwreck fanzine.

Word Count: 4k

Pairing: Qrow/Clover

Ao3 Link: Transmission Error

Summary: With the end of the world on the horizon, nothing is certain. Loyalties and ideals clash as Qrow and Clover fight between what is right and what is just. With a city threatening to crumble around them, something has to win the day. But will it be their individual interests… or the one thing holding them together?

Note: This is a What-If scenario for the events in the plane right after V7C11

In the wake of the transmission, the air in the transport was tense and heavy. Stiflingly, so.

Robyn acted first, jerking around and pointing her weapon at him. Clover looked between the crossbow and her unshakable gaze and saw the huntress he’d had a chance to watch grow into her own. She was several years his junior, who’d entered the academy strong-willed and defiant, with high opinions and a disobedient attitude that truly didn’t mesh well with the militant attitude of her peers. He’d been granted the chance to be her corrective tutor, once upon a time, but he knew within five minutes of them meeting that there was no hope changing her. Nor was she someone who needed to be. She was a shining example of the incoming generation, those with big ideas on how to better the world and willing to take the risks to make those ideas happen.

Now, staring down the barrel of her weapon and understanding that she was seeing him as a hurdle to cross to that better world, Clover had never felt so betrayed.

The minimal tang of moving metal made him look slightly to the right, where Qrow sat with his hand on Harbinger’s hilt – not extended but threatening to.

Okay now he never felt so betrayed.

He kept his hands right where they were, resting on either thigh. While he had luck on his side, he didn’t bet his chances on winning a fight against two skilled fighters in the middle of a closed area wherein his own weapon was ultimately useless. So he used the only one he had left – his voice. “Let’s just take a second and calm down.”

Robyn scoffed. “I think we’re way past calm, shamrock.”

Back to that old nickname? That was a bad sign.

“We’re not.” Clover insisted. “Look, we don’t know what’s going on and-”

“My niece just told us what’s going on.” Qrow butt in. “Your boss is going off the deep end and my kids are in the crossfire.”

He almost reminded the other huntsman that General Ironwood was, technically, his boss as well. He couldn’t imagine how scandalized he’d be if he dared.

He took a slow, steadying breath and tried again “The general wouldn’t suddenly switch tactics like this without reason. We need to get back to the academy and-”

“And what?!” Robyn was on her feet now, the crossbow nearly touching his nose. “How does this end? Mantle has been the sacrifice this entire time and you’ve done nothing but blindly stand by it! Now Ironwood’s signed its death warrant, so why should I believe you wouldn’t betray your own home now?”

Few things could get him to surge to his feet, but that accusation was too much. “I never-!”

Anything more he wished to say was interrupted by a round of screams from the cockpit, before an explosion rocked the airship, fire and heat blasting from the front. There was no Elm or Weiss to catch them, so the four of them were tossed about the cabin like ragdolls. Clover cried out as his spine impacted the bench with enough force to hurt, only for another undulation to throw him to the floor, his shoulder and head smacking in quick succession.

Somewhere, he heard Tyrian’s maniacal laughter. “I knew she’d come for me!”

He struggled against his fuzzy head to lift himself up, blinking away the haze in his vision to truly take in the unbelievable sight before him. The entire front of the airship was just gone, nothing but a gaping hole where the cockpit once was, opening up the view to the stomach-dropping site of Mantle below. The edges of the metal that had been torn off were still super-heated and glowing orange, smoke filling the cabin at an alarming rate and choking the air.

As the aircraft rapidly started to nosedive, he grabbed onto the leg of the bench to ground himself. Between the dark clouds and his watery eyes, he saw Tyrian go slipping out the front. Heard his psychotic giggling as he disappeared over the edge. Another shout made his gut twist, and he saw Robyn going next, nothing to catch her.

He scrambled for Kingfisher, swung it desperately – but the line caught nothing.

“Clover!”

Under the tumultuous noise of the failing craft and the screech of the winds, it was a true wonder how he managed to hear the yell that had him looking to the back where the last occupant was. Qrow had his sword embedded in the wall, using it to anchor himself in place. He reached out a hand for him, which Clover didn’t hesitate to take, feet scrambling for purchase as the other huntsman yanked him over. His hand curled partially over Qrow’s as he grabbed for a hold on Harbinger.

“The door!” The huntsman cried, indicating with a jerk of his head towards the hatch at the rear of the vehicle.

Clover nodded, planting his heels in so he could slide himself back against the wall, and slammed his fist into the door. Nothing happened. Without the cockpit, there was no tech to control them into opening.

Qrow was coughing. They were suffocating on smoke. The buildings of Mantle were rapidly getting closer.

They were going to die if they didn’t get out now.

He shut his eyes. Focused everything he had into the hatch beside him, willed his semblance into opening them, and slammed his fist back again.

It didn’t just open – it entirely detached, breaking off with a screech and getting lost somewhere in the night sky.

Clover spared Qrow a look, just long enough to make sure he would be able to get out on his own, before he grabbed onto the edge of the frame and yanked himself out. Suddenly, he was flying, the rooftops of Mantle rapidly stretching up to meet him. He swung Kingfisher in a wide arc, catching around a chimney stack behind him and using it to propel himself backwards so that he was over an alleyway. Another swing and another hook, this time around a fire escape, had him swinging into his fall, controlling his descent.

The ground still came up quickly and hit hard even as he tucked and rolled into it. He didn’t get up immediately. His back was screaming, despite his aura miraculously still holding, and his head felt like one big ache. He gingerly pressed his palm against his temple, feeling the knot growing there, as he pulled out his scroll to check his teammates’ statuses.

Robyn was in the yellow, which meant wherever she ended up, she’d landed okay and in one piece. His own was on the verge of snapping, though he could feel that.

But his eyes were quickly drawn to the pulsing red meter over Qrow, panic rising. With all the other noise, he hadn’t heard the alert. The other man must have collided with something too hard during the explosion, and with his aura already taxed from battling waves of Grimm and Tyrian, it was no wonder it gave in.

He should have helped him out of the plane.

Clover quickly got to his feet, hissing as he did so. He ignored it in favor of searching the area. He couldn’t have landed far, right?

It was hard to see anything. The area was pitch black, most of the district’s electricity having been knocked out during the attack. But a light caught his eye and he started to jog down the alley towards it – only to quickly ease up into a quick walk. Once he’d stepped onto the sidewalk, he looked around, but saw no sign of Qrow anywhere.

But just as he was about to head down the street, something out of place caught his eye.

A falling feather.

He watched it flutter to the ground, before craning his head back, spotting a crow clinging to the only lamppost still on. “Qrow?” He called to it hopefully.

It cawed back, before hopping from its perch. Clover saw the problem immediately as he tried to flap with just one working wing, spiraling out of control. He rushed to catch him, raising his cupped hands towards the sky and biting down on his tongue when his shoulder protested loudly against the movement. Still, it felt worth the pain when the nearly weightless bird landed in his palms. He knelt down, setting him on the floor.

A second later, Qrow was next to him, stifling a groan as he held his right arm tightly. The elbow was at an odd angle.

He could have kicked himself for not noticing.

“Is it broken?” Clover asked, reaching out for it.

“Don’t think so – Ah, careful!” He hissed, fingers twitching. “Think I just knocked it outta place.”

Upon further inspection, he found the assessment was correct. A full dislocation. It was a wonder how he’d managed to keep hold of his sword with such an injury. Though, experience told him it was probably just pure adrenaline.

Clover looked up, meeting Qrow’s pained gaze. “I can set it, but it’s going to hurt.”

“I know.” He turned his face away. “Do it.”

“Okay.” He held onto his wrist with one hand, and the bone of his protruding elbow with the other, carefully pulling his arm into a 90-degree angle as he tried to guide the joint back into place as he rotated the wrist.

The worst part was how slow the reduction maneuver was, dragging out the pain. Qrow did his best to hide it, only short, sharp exhales escaping between his teeth. Until there was a click as the bone finally snapped back into place; then he doubled over and let out a wordless cry.

Clover guided the arm down, resting it in Qrow’s lap, before reaching out to run a soothing hand through the other man’s hair. “Any other injuries?” He asked once it seemed he’d had caught his breath.

He shook his head, straightening up. He tested the movement of his arm, flinching as the torn and swollen ligaments undoubtably objected. It didn’t appear to weaken his resolve though, as he used his good arm to help him get back to his feet, turning towards the sky. Towards Atlas.

Clover felt like his soul and body were pulling in different directions, because as he got to his feet, his heart sank. “You’re going?”

“Where else is there to be?” He questioned emptily as he walked forward.

As if Kingfisher’s line was tied between them, Clover found himself surging after him, grabbing onto his shoulder. “Wait!”

In all the time they’d gotten to know each other, Qrow had never looked back at him so spitefully before. “Going to stop me?”

What? Clover tried to work his jaw into the word, but nothing escaped him.

Because… that’s what he was supposed to do, wasn’t he? He was Atlas’ top Ace-Op, meant to protect the people and his Kingdom. Tasked in securing the deeper secrets of Remnant and protecting his General’s interests. Above all else, it was his duty to subdue anyone intent on hindering or delaying those interests.

When had Qrow become such a liability to him that the thought of stopping him didn’t even cross his mind?

“I-” He pulled his hand back, staring at it as if it had betrayed him.

“I get it, you know.”

He looked up. “Huh?”

Some of the heat in Qrow’s eyes had gone away. “Back when Beacon started to fall, I forgot too. I ran to Ozpin’s office, more intent on the relic and the maiden then I was on the people being torn apart in the streets. Oz didn’t even hesitate – actually he seemed pissed I was there at all.” He chuckled, a bitter, hollow sound. “He ordered me to leave, because even though he knew it was a risk, to him the people always came first. There are those in this world far better than me who never forget that. And those are the people I choose to follow.” He looked back, towards the city floating in the clouds. “And that’s what’s different between Oz and James. Oz always protected the people first. James always protected his ideals first.” Before he could formulate a retort, Qrow was looking at him now. “And from how you talked back there, it seems your ideals are what come first too.”

Clover curled one of his hands into a fist. “It’s not about ideals Qrow!”

“Isn’t it?!” He shot back, gesturing towards the buildings around them. “How else can you justify leaving an entire city to die?”

“How can you justify risking the world for one city?” He shouted right back.

Qrow got right in his face, eyes ablaze. “Because a huntsman always puts his life on the line for the people in need! Even if costs him his life.”

“Not when we could fail so many others!” Fury boiled up in him as well. “Do you think it’s satisfactory enough to say ‘Well I might be dead, but at least I did my best?’ Death isn’t an apology!”

“Neither is sacrificing the few for the many!”

“It’s not just the many! The numbers can’t even compare.” He jabbed his finger towards the sky, at the city he used to stare up at with wonder and jealousy. “If Salem gets that staff, that city will fall. Mantle, Atlas. All of it will be destroyed! So instead of saving who we can, we will lose everyone.”

“That makes it okay!?”

“Of course it doesn’t! I’d never say that.” His words trailed off into a rasp from his smoke-irritated throat. “This is the worst possible scenario and if I could go out there and stop Salem myself, I would. I’d give everything if I could do that. But that’s not an option and we have to make a decision.”

“You’re right. We do.” That red-eyed glare hardly lessened, even as Qrow took several steps backwards. Held up his arms like an offering. “So stop me.”

The challenge caught him off guard. “What?”

“You’re so certain about your path, right lucky charm? Then stop me.” He let his hands fall back to his sides, expression immovable. “Because I promise you, I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure James’ plan fails.”

Clover was sure if his jaw tightened any more, his molars would crack. “I’m not going to fight you Qrow.”

“You’re gonna have to. You can’t have it both ways.”

He squared his shoulders and rose his chin up, granting the first punch. They’d played too many rounds of poker for him not to know the signs when Qrow was bluffing. “You first.”

Something shimmered across the other’s face, a brief second of regret, before his expression hardened once more.

But he didn’t move.

As the seconds passed, the tension eased out of him, until Clover’s heart broke open into something softer, warmer. “Qrow…”

The utterance of his own name erased his resolve and he lowered his head to scowl at the sidewalk. “Just, stay out of this one, okay?”

“You know I can’t do that. But we can figure this out together.” He stepped forward.

The gesture only made Qrow back away further. “Now who’s spouting off idealistic bullshit?”

Clover snorted. “According to you, it’s still me.”

That actually cracked a smile, though it was fleeting. “Look, you have to understand, this isn’t just about Mantle or Salem or any of that. It’s about those kids. My kids. I have to go.” He looked up, his imploring gaze begging him to understand. “I have to.”

“Qrow,” He started, reaching for the man – but something moving in the shadows behind him drew his attention.

“I know you don’t get it, but-”

The words faded into background noise, Clover turning his head to get a better look at the figure slinking towards them.

Glowing gold eyes gleamed back at him.

His heart stopped.

Knowing he was spotted, Tyrian sprinted forward to clear the rest of the distance, wrist blades aimed for Qrow’s unprotected back.

Clover didn’t hesitate, reaching for Kingfisher and extending it in one quick movement. “Qrow!”

“What are you-?!” Misunderstanding, Qrow jerked back in sudden alarm, hand reaching for his own weapon, but his injury made him slow.

It was also the thing that saved him, as Clover managed to hook his line around the other’s torso and yank him to the ground by his side just as Tyrian’s blades cut through the air where he once was. The murderer’s malicious grin glinted like fangs in the light as he changed targets and struck towards him. Clover ducked under it, twisting the fishing rod around and jabbing the pointed end towards his face.

The iron grip of the other’s metallic tail closing around his wrist cut his attack short.

Tyrian cackled at the trembling end of the spearhead that was just centimeters from his now violet eyeball, looking at him almost gleefully. “Nice try. How about I return the favor?”

The words registered with the swing of the weapon at his face. In desperation, Clover threw himself as far back as he could go – expecting resistance from the hold on his arm.

But it let go.

Unprepared and unsteady, his feet fumbled for balance – and it was just the mistake Tyrian was looking for.

The other’s hand clawed down his front and he felt his aura rip at the seams as if made of paper.

And then all that was left was burning agony as the knife-edged point of the scorpion tail sliced across his stomach up to his chest.

Clover stumbled backwards, hands shakily pressing against his body as bright red blood flowed from the wound. His blood.

All he could think was, That’s not right.

He couldn’t breathe.

His legs started to shake.

A weak whisper of his name made him look to his right.

“Clover?”

The last thing he saw was Qrow’s horrified expression as he collapsed to the ground and everything went dark.

“Clover!!”

“So, how d-?”

“I don’t-”

Voices. He heard voices. They were distant and muddled, like he was hearing them from underwater. But as he grasped for them, fighting through the fog in his head and the numbness of his senses, it slammed awareness back into him violently and he became acutely aware of the searing pain roaring across his torso like fire.

A noise escaped him, a choked off cry.

“-ver? Clover?”

Qrow. He tried to focus on his voice, on the hand gripping his own. He squeezed it, maybe too tightly, feeling like it was the only thing grounding him.

“-Needs a medic.” Someone else’s voice faded in again, but he recognized it too. Robyn. How was she here? He felt her more dainty fingers pressing down against his wrist. “His pulse is stable, but he’s losing a lot of blood.”

“That poison’s no joke either.” Qrow sounded panicked. “How are we even going to find anyone right now?”

He wanted to reach out to him, to reassure him he was going to be fine. He’d had worse, surely. But when he tried to speak, the air was punched right out of his lungs as another wave of agony rolled over him.

He only noticed the hand running through his hair once it subsided and the sensation encouraged his eyes open. Everything around him was fuzzy, except the bright red orbs staring back at him.

Had he ever told Qrow how pretty his eyes were?

“Hey, it’s alright. You’re gonna be just fine.” His voice flowed like honey and was just as sweet. He wanted to listen to it forever.

“’Row.” He slurred around his heavy tongue.

It was worth the effort, as it rewarded him a smile.

“I’ve got him.” Robyn. Right she was here. Somewhere to his left. “You need to get going Qrow.”

“What?” Those eyes turned away from him. He wanted them back.

“If Ironwood knows Clover’s down here and that he can’t get back on his own, he might hold off. Might even restart the evacuation efforts.”

The memories resurfaced slowly. Right… Right. Mantle. Atlas. Salem. What happened to Tyrian? Did they-?

Unaware of his worries, the conversation continued around him, unhindered. “But I can’t just-” Qrow tried to argue.

“I won’t let him die. I promise.”

He frowned at that, deadpanning. “You were going to shoot him in the face twenty minutes ago.”

“Only if he pissed me off enough.” Her face finally came into view as she leaned over, peering down at him. “He’s an idiot. But he’s also part of Mantle. He just needs to be reminded of that sometimes.”

He made a weak protest in the back of his throat. He wasn’t ready for Qrow to know any of that.

Luckily, she didn’t elaborate further, turning her gaze back to the other huntsman. “Get out of here. At this point, you’re our only hope.”

Qrow stared between them, before he sighed in defeat and his hand slipped away.

“No-!“ Clover gasped, blindly trying to take it back and latching onto his wristband. His body shrieked in protest from the sharp movement, but he didn’t let go.

“It’s okay,” Qrow soothed. “I’ll be back.”

He shook his head, or at least he imagined he did, using what strength he had left to shakily pull his arm up until his fingers brushed over the clover always stuck to his chest. He couldn’t find it in him to speak anymore, so he just stared back at him, pleading for him to understand.

It wasn’t enough. “What? I don’t-?”

“I think he wants you to take it five o’ clock.” Robyn translated, voice uncharacteristically gentle. Until she added, “You can use it as proof.”

Had he not been bleeding out on the streets of his old hometown, Clover might have laughed.

No, he knew his commander wouldn’t halt his path. Not even for him.

But, at least this way, if Qrow made it out of here, he’d have something left of him to remind him by.

If the other man’s twisting expression told him anything, it didn’t seem that meaning was escaping him. The badge was carefully unpinned, Qrow looking down at it as his fingers closed over it securely.

Good.

Clover’s eyes slipped shut.

Good…

He felt something warm against his forehead. Qrow’s voice was closer than ever. “This isn’t goodbye lucky charm. I swear it.”

He wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating or not when he felt the tender press of lips against his own. He felt the loss of their warmth all the same when Qrow backed away. Heard his rapid footsteps that turned into wingbeats as he took off down the street. Almost faded away completely, when Robyn pulled him upwards and the agony wrenched him from blissful unconsciousness.

“Stay with me a bit longer shamrock.” She told him, securing his arm around her neck and letting him rest most of his weight on her. “Can’t die now when you just fell in love.”

“M’not n’love.” He mumbled disjointedly, head lolling against her shoulder.

Her smug smile was only highlighted by the glow where her hand met his wrist. The color caught his attention as seamlessly as Qrow’s eyes.

For they were both red and, in a way, wonderful.

His laugh left him in nothing more than a sharp but joyful exhale.

So, Qrow was that kind of liability huh?

Well now.

Lucky him.

#clover ebi #qrow branwen #Fair Game #RWBY #RWBY 7 #RWBY spoilers #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

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