#May god watch over these people and peace be brought to them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chiaraanatra · 5 months ago

Text

Lavender Girl

Summary: JJ was never one to believe in fate but one chance encounter may have him changing his mind. (Or the one where JJ helps Kook!reader through a panic attack and neither one of them can get the other off their mind.)

Warnings: vague descriptions of a panic attack, reader is an anxious wreck, reader tends to bite the skin on her fingers when anxious (don't mind me and my self-inserts), swearing feelings of distrust on JJ's part, nick-/pet names (pretty girl, lavender girl). one use of Y/N.

WC: 2.1k

AN: I'm not sure what this is or where its going! If anyone has any ideas/would like a part two let me know! I hope you like!

Song: Loosely based on Lavender Girl by Caamp

《 m.list || ao3 》

JJ POV

Why do I do this to myself?

Are pity tips from old ladies worth it?

This stupid getup is bad enough, let alone having to wait hand & foot on these fucking Kooks.

Do these people have nothing better to do on a Thursday morning than sit around bitching and drinking mimosas?

JJ made my way back inside, empty tray under his arm. Thank god it was nice out. It meant that the main bar inside the club was completely empty, giving him a minute of peace away from out-of-touch members of 'high society'.

Or so he thought…

When he turned the corner, he was met with soft sobs and lavender fabric pooled delicately on the floor under the bar. "Um… You okay…?" He didn't want to be rude, but heavy emotions weren't exactly his specialty, and he didn't have much experience with girls crying on the floor. At least not like this...

“Oh God, I'm so sorry…" you mumbled.

You looked up at him with teary eyes and in that moment, JJ was sure he had never been met with a more beautiful sight. Even glossed with tears, JJ was positive he had never looked into eyes as clear as yours. He watched as you scrambled to wipe away the tears that were still spilling over and mask the sounds of sniffling.

"Hey, hey, hey, you're okay." JJ set down the tray and crouched to be at eye level with you. "Wha's gotcha so upset? Far too pretty to be crying like that…" His last statement was barely above a whisper, brought into existence before JJ even knew he was saying it.

You glanced away, biting the skin of your thumb, "It’s all too much, it's just… I-I just couldn't…" You were trembling, shaking like a leaf. JJ knew if you kept this up you would probably pass out from lack of oxygen and/or gnaw straight through your finger.

"Hey, look at me." He reached out, gently taking your hand away from your mouth and bringing your attention to him. "Deep breaths." For a moment JJ thought he may be overstepping, but something in him had switched to autopilot, set on helping you, comforting you. "Breathe with me. In." He paused to take a deep breath, "And out." He slowly blew the air out of his lungs before repeating the process and the mantra. "In… and out…"

He watched as your trembling slowed and your body seemed to relax at his words. "There she is." He gave you a smile and you reciprocated with a small one of your own, "See? Knew you were far too pretty to be cryin’ like that," JJ helped you to stand. He thought you were about to say something before his name caught his attention.

"JJ, what the fuck are you doing man?" JJ looked behind him to see Ben peek his head out from the hallway. "If Mr. Burton sees you fucking around again, he’s gonna cut your ass."

"Shit…" his attention was brought back to you. "Sorry pretty girl, I gotta go." he grabbed his tray before giving you one last glance. "It’ll be okay. Don't let anyone make you believe otherwise. That includes yourself!"

And with that he was gone, leaving you with puffy eyes and a soft smile. JJ didn't know that he also left you wondering why anyone would be so sweet to you and that soon you would be clamoring to know more about the dirty blonde that went by JJ.

After his shift, JJ went straight to the Chateau, where he now found himself hanging off one of the chairs on the porch and regretting just about every word he had said in the last 15 minutes. He didn’t know how you got brought up and he certainly as hell didn’t know why, considering the two of you had barely a 10-minute interaction and you only said 5 words to him.

Regardless of circumstances, he was now getting berated with questions from two of his best friends, fearing it would only get worse when Kie and Sarah made their way back out onto the porch.

"Shit man you should have at least asked for her name!" John B exclaimed almost tipping over the beer bottle that was haphazardly perched on the arm of his chair.

JJ rolled his eyes, "I wasn't exactly thinking about that!"

"Yeah, I can only imagine what you were thinking about." Pope chuckled to himself. "Speaking of, what did she look like?"

JJ didn't want to tell his friends that you were the most gorgeous human he had ever seen "I don't know man, she looked like every other Kook princess running around." JJ could only shake his head at how unconvincing his voice sounded.

"Bullshit!" John B laughed at his best friend's failed attempts to mask his budding feelings.

"What are you halfwits arguing about?" The three boys looked up to find Kie and Sarah stepping out of the Chateau. Sarah made herself comfortable on John B's lap while Kie sat on the couch next to Pope.

"JJ's in love."

"Wha- fuck you, Pope!"

"With a mystery Kook," John B added.

"Oooo! Tell me more!" Sarah loved gossip and loved the idea of JJ showing interest in a girl that went beyond the realm of a one-night stand.

JJ stood from his seat, "I'm just gonna go walk into the ocean while y'all have fun."

"Oh, sit down," John B waved his hand and JJ returned to his seat. "We're just fucking around, JJ."

"So how did we meet this mysterious Kook Princess?" Kie leaned in, her elbows on her knees.

"Don't matter. For all I know, she's some rich bitch Touron and I'll never see her again."

With that, the conversation fell to other topics, but JJ's thoughts were still on you. Your soft smile. Your puffy eyes. Your lavender dress. He would never admit it, but he was hoping that he was wrong and that he would be lucky enough to see you again.

It had been a week since JJ’s interaction with you and with no signs of you at the club, he feared that he was right. You were gone and he was left with only the memory of your lavender dress and beautiful eyes.

Or so he thought…

Little did he know that you had been looking for him whenever you entered the country club. You just so happened to miss each other, just barely, every time.

He was walking back from the kitchen when he heard his name being called from down the hallway. “JJ?” The voice sounded small and apprehensive but familiar.

When he turned around, he was greeted by the same beauty from the week before, only you had shed your fancy lavender dress for something a bit more casual, shorts and a flowy white shirt.

When he didn’t respond she continued, "That's your name, right? JJ?"

"Uh yeah. That's me. Um, how can I help you?" A look of confusion danced across his face. He half expected you not to remember him and was waiting for you to ask him for a drink or complain about the hors d'oeuvres.

"I wanted to thank you for the other day…" When his confused look didn’t cease, you couldn't help but continue, "I was the girl in the dress, crying her eyes out on the floor under the bar…" Your hair twirled around your finger in what JJ’s eyes looked to be nervousness.

He couldn't help but chuckle softly and shake his head. Of course, he remembered you; how could he forget, you plagued almost every thought he had had in the last week. He was more taken aback by your kindness.

"I get like that sometimes…" you continued. "Sorta like a tidal wave, once it starts it's hard to stop… but you helped me calm down and you didn't even know me… don’t even know me. So, I-I just wanted to thank you…" your voice faded out as you looked down at your pristine, white Converse.

"No problem." JJ watched as you turned to walk away. Wishing he could bring himself to say something, anything that would make you stay for just a second longer. But JJ knew a girl like you would never go for a guy like him.

Your voice pulled him from his thoughts, not noticing that you had turned to face him once more, "Would you like to hang out, sometime?"

Disbelief flashed over his features, "You wanna hang out with me?" This had to be some kind of trick, at any moment some Kook fucks would jump him for thinking he could so much as look at you.

"If not that's fine! It's probably super weird that I asked that! You don't even know me…"

JJ heard the increased anxiousness in your voice and noticed you starting to gnaw nervously at your fingers once again. "Hey, calm down." He made his way closer to you and gently pulled your hand away once more. "Deep breath for me." He watched as you did what you were told. He released your hand before speaking again, "You really want to hang out with me? You realize I'm not like your kook friends, right? I don't have a pretty Benz to drive you around in and I barely have 20 bucks to my name."

"I just moved here, and I don't really have any friends." A look of embarrassment washed over your face, "not that we have to be friends!" You paused, taking another deep breath. JJ could see you trying to fight off the waves of anxiety as they hit you, "It's just- you seem genuinely nice and that seems a bit hard to come by around here…"

JJ's tongue pressed against his cheek as he smiled. "Got your phone?"

You nodded, pulling the device out from the back pocket of your shorts. You unlocked it and handed it to the blonde where he proceeded to put his number in. You looked at the new contact name when he handed your phone back.

JJ Maybank 🌊

You couldn’t help but smile.

"I’m off all day tomorrow, maybe I could show you around the island or something?”

You couldn’t hide the excitement in your voice. “That would be great! Um, I should get going, but I’ll text you?”

“Sounds like a plan, lavender girl.” He gave you a parting smile and a wink before returning to work.

"No need to ask. He's a smooth operator!" Pope’s voice rang out as the three boys made their way down the dock to the HMS Pogue.

John B was quick to join the other man in song, as the three jumped on board, "Smooth operator!"

JJ made his way to the bow looking like he was about to jump into the murky water below, “That's it! I'm never telling you guys shit ever again!"

“Relax, J!” John B pulled his friend off the edge, “Like you didn't give me this much shit with Sarah."

"If not more," Pope laughed as he started the boat.

While that was definitely true the blonde rolled his eyes.

"So, what's the plan?" Pope continued as he lowered the anchor. "This doesn't feel like your usual catch-and-release."

“Man, I don’t know, she’s a fuckin’ Kook. I told her I could show her around the island since she just moved here but I’m not sure she’s gunnin’ to see how the other half lives.”

“Hey, you never know. She might surprise you,” John B had a look in his eyes that told the world that he was thinking about Sarah in that moment.

“Sounds like she has so far,” Pope couldn't help but take a couple more jabs at his friend's expense, never having seen the blonde like this before.

With that, JJ’s mind ran through all the possible things the two of you could do tomorrow. Only to be interrupted by the ping of his phone.

*PING*

Unknown Number - Hey it’s Y/N.

*PING*

Unknown Number - Lavender girl…

JJ felt his heart skip a beat. Part of him didn’t think you would actually contact him.

*PING*

Unknown Number – Are you still free tomorrow?

Contacting him was one thing but actually wanting to hang out with him? He quickly saved your contact in his phone, the nickname he gave you seemed appropriate. He ignored the small flips in his stomach brought on by the thought of you.

*PING*

Lavender Girl - If you still want to hang out, that is.

JJ couldn’t help but smirk and shake his head at your nervousness, not noticing Pope glancing at the digital exchange.

“She uses commas when she texts? Girl after my own heart.”

JJ pushed the other boy, “Fuck off, Pope!”

Do we like? Do we want a part 2? If the answer is yes, do we have suggestions/ideas for part 2? If the answer is also yes please share!

As always, feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

OBX Taglist: @daisydark @Ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @lillyxlillian @jjsfavgirl

𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑? 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 💜

369 notes · View notes

achaoticeternal · 1 year ago

Text

can’t you see...?

aemond targaryen x reader part one - nothing between us

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

word count: 2.7k summary: The eye of the Seven is observant as they watch the altercations that occur between the prince and you. How far will you allow your temptation to spur you? And how could you ever deny Aemond Targaryen of what the Seven have gifted him? a/n: there’ll probably be a part three... warnings: power dynamics/ imbalance, AFAB reader, religious themes and guilt, coercion/dub-con (but not smut), praise kink, Aegon’s commentary

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Aemond’s eye hardly left your lovely figure during dinner that night. Though he may be sitting quite a few seats away from you on the opposite side of the table, it made it easy for him to watch and observe you. While others surrounding you shared polite conversation, Aemond thought solely of what occurred in the godswood before you separately entered for the feast.

His mind mulled over how obedient you were… how eager to please…

The lewd thoughts were only interrupted when Aegon leaned in close to him, breath heavy with the stench of wine. It shouldn’t come to him as a surprise that Aegon already had his fill of the wine even as he whispered into his ear, “She’s a pretty thing, isn’t she?”

Aemond’s hands fisted against the napkin in his lap, knuckles turning white. Yet the unbothered look upon his face didn’t sway, except for a twitch of his brow. His self-control was quite impressive, especially with his brother’s vulgar thoughts being whispered into his ear like a deceptive little snake.

“The lady is not a plaything for you to steal pleasure from,” He quietly spat back.

“I wouldn’t have to steal her pleasure,” Aegon chuckled darkly, “I’m sure your little virgin would love being properly taken.”

Before Aemond could retaliate, their grandfather and Hand of the King, Otto Hightower, stood to address the guests of the feast. He spoke of another passing year of the successes the Small Council had brought to the realm, continuing the peaceful reign of the King. Lord Hightower also pleasantly surprised the group with a toast to the health of Lord Corlys Velaryon and his return to Driftmark as the Lord of the Tides and Master of Ships. Many people shared smiles and small toasts, but Aemond’s eye drifted back to the daughter of Viserys’ and Otto’s most trusted advisor and long-time friend of the Crown.

Yet, he was rather surprised when he noticed that you were already looking at him. It was a look the young prince was unable to discern. You looked at him, with a gaze of longing and curiosity before quickly averting your eyes elsewhere. Your face became warm, if not flustered when you realized that he caught you in the act. But you couldn’t help but to admire him…

Flashbacks of your time spent in the godswood washed over you. That brief time spent together just moments before you arrived at your parent’s side.

“Get on your knees and pray,” His voice had come out in a growl nearly similar to a dragon.

There was no resistance as you gracefully fell to your knees before him. The prince now towered over you but made no movement to obstruct you.

“Will you not pray with me, my prince?” You asked softly.

A smirk graced his face at your question, paired with a breathless chuckle, “I am praying in my… own way.”

With a nod of your head, you did not press him further. Clasping your hands together, you raised them to the height of your chin. You closed your eyes and began to recite your prayers in a hushed tone.

Aemond’s soft touch landed atop your folded hands, “Speak up, my Lady. The Gods can not hear your whispers of faith.”

You set to continue the prayer, yet he stopped you once more, “Open your eyes to the heavens, sweet lady.”

Opening your eyes, you glanced upwards only to be met with his looming presence. He had moved closer to you, his one eye fixating upon you and hand cupping your chin. How pretty you looked on your knees before him, innocence brimming in your eyes. You continued speaking your prayers to each of the faces of the Seven, eyes never leaving him. He looked like a God before you, a god you would willingly worship whenever he called upon you.

The prayer finished, causing you to fall silent. His thumb traced the outline of your bottom lip before light tugging it. When he released it, he pressed the pad of his thumb to your lips. Without any instruction, you pressed a soft kiss to the digit.

A warmth now settled in your lower stomach as the scene played over and over in your mind. Though the warmth caused a faint sense of pleasure, guilt settled into your heart and mind. The eyes of the Seven had seen how you had misbehaved when so loosely chaperoned with the prince. How would your oath to the Maiden waver when truly alone and unable to resist the temptation that came to you so naturally?

Your mind raced with these upsetting thoughts. Surely the prince, a faithful man, did not want to be tainted by the presence of a young lady with such thoughts. It was something that you would come to pray over consistently; every meal, every night, every holy day.

Over the course of the following days, Aemond had come to find you were always haunting his mind, day in and day out. Whether he be in the training yards with Ser Criston, or delving into the histories during his time of study, his thoughts drifted away to the idea of how soft your lips felt against his thumb. And how he wished to press the digit against your tongue and order you to suck just to see how far you’d go to please him.

He’d shake his head to rid himself of these scandalous fantasies, especially while seated between his own mother and Helaena. The mother-daughter had been chatting as Aemond remained seated across from them, his nephew and niece playing at his feet. Though he tried to appreciate this time spent with his family, his mind twisted to thoughts of seeing you heavy with his own heirs. The two of you having little silver-haired toddlers coming to pull at your legs for attention.

Yet at night during his nightly solitude, the impure fantasies flooded his mind. His typical dreamless nights had twisted into exaggerations of your bodies laying together in his bed, completely bare to each other. How sweet your voice sang out for him as he coaxed you through waves of incomparable pleasure. The way in which your face would blissfully contort as he thrust his cock into your desirable, tight warmth.

Aemond would find himself kicking his sheets off his body, the layers trapping too much heat against him. When that didn’t help, the young prince would strip himself bare, freeing his hard member from the constriction caused by his breeches. The images in his dreams would cause him to tightly fist himself until hot spurts of cum covered his hand and lean stomach, leaving him panting. These nights left him frustrated and on the brink of tears as he questioned whether or not he was cursed with the same lust the Seven bestowed upon Aegon.

In the morning after these dreams, Aemond would strictly avoid you by taking off on Vhagar or locking himself away in his private chambers when not bound to duty.

But at the end of the day, it not only caused a strain on your blossoming relationship - it left both of you even more frustrated, befitting you both in a state of yearning.

Days later, Aemond had just left his mother’s private chambers after spending lunch with her. Mostly she lectured him about his brothers’ behavior or what she thought was unsuitable in recent Small Council dealings. Surprisingly, Aemond had left all thoughts and dreams of your angelic face and body on his pillow, allowing him to take comfort in his day.

Currently, he was making his way down to the library in search of texts recommended to him by a maester. New teachings had been released from Oldtown and were now housed within the Red Keep’s expansive library.

Yet when he arrived, Aemond found himself met with your figure curled into one of the seats. You were currently facing away from him with an unfamiliar text propped in your lap. It was the way you had strewn out your body that caught and held his attention longer than what might be acceptable. Dressed in a gown befitting the heat of summer, you lounged out upon the chaise with your calves danging over the armrest where one would typically rest their head. Furthermore, your shoes had been discarded and your dress had bunched down to your knees. Where the scene might have been less enticing in the winter where you would wear stockings up your dress, your legs were bare to him. It only spurred the impure thoughts once more.

Aemond cleared his throat which signaled his presence. Almost immediately, you dropped your book when you realized that you were no longer alone. Quickly, you tucked your legs under the skirt of your dress before flipping over to see it was the prince. With a sharp intake of breath, you rose to your knees on the chaise, gripping the backing for support, “My prince…”

“My lady,” He bid you welcome and a beat of silence hung before he spoke once more, “I did not mean to disturb your lounging.”

“You did not disturb me,” You attempted to soothe the awkward tension between the pair of you. It fell silent again when both of you were unsure of what to say. Deciding to continue about your day, you stood from your seat and slipped your shoes on before moving to exit, “Good day, my prince.”

Aemond was quick to notice your discarded book that lay on the floor, “My lady, it seems you’ve forgotten something,” already, he took strides to retrieve it.

Turning on your heels, you watched as the prince went to fetch your book. Waves of horror rocked through your body, “Allow me to grab it. I so foolishly forgot it.”

Though you stepped lightly to catch up to him, Aemond already hovered down to snatch it off the ground, “No, allow me.”

As Aemond rose to his full height once more, you arrived before him. He stretches out the novel for you to take, his eye meeting yours. So far, you were in the clear… But then he glanced down to see what title had kept you so occupied as to not notice his intrusion. The answer surprises him… A Caution for Young Girls.

Gingerly, you pulled it to your chest, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, “If you shall allow me to dismiss myself…”

“No. That isn’t necessary,” He stopped the words before they could leave your tongue, “I’d like for you to explain.”

Your eyes flickered back to meet his violet eye burning through you. A chill ran down your spine, the question barely audible, “Explain?”

“Yes, explain,” Aemond confirmed, his hands now tucked behind his back so you would not notice the force it took to restrain himself, “Explain why you see fit to read a book with such… lewd descriptions of what should only occur between a wed couple. You were reading it in quite a public space, before the eyes of the Seven.”

Your lip quivered as your heartbeat hammered against your chest. Feelings of guilt and ruin washed over you and the words tumbled passed your lips with little thought, “My prince, I am deeply sorry. I simply wished to understand the duties of a wife beyond what my mother has explained to me and I thought this book would help. I did not mean to come across so perverse… I… I…”

Emotions rocked through your body as the words caught in your throat. Aemond could see how the confrontation had frightened you and it left him with an interesting mix of emotions. He enjoyed having the upper hand, the way you so sweetly apologized and begged for his forgiveness. Even your confession left him pleasantly surprised with the warmth it caused to pulsate through his body.

“I see,” Aemond nodded, “Your reasoning is quite innocent… even if you’ve exposed yourself to such perverse descriptions.”

“I did not know any better; I swear it upon the Maiden,” You clasped your shaky hand over the pendant on your chest.

Such actions and whines caused Aemond’s rough exterior to soften, “I understand…”

“You do?”

Aemond chuckled lowly at your innocent tone, “Of course, I do, my sweet girl.”

Aimlessly, Aemond took the book from your grasp and tossed it onto one of the seats near the both of you. He then brought his hand up to gently grip your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “You worry that you’ve disgraced yourself? Made yourself unsuitable by consuming such materials?”

The tone in which he asked the question demanded an answer. Words lost to you, you opted to nod your head as best as you could within his hold. Your hands clung to his forearm as if your hold upon him kept you from collapsing.

“Hmm… don’t worry, sweet girl,” Aemond assured you, “Your soul isn’t tainted, and we shall go to the sept and pray together later. The Seven will forgive you.”

Aemond watched as relief flooded your eyes. Your lips parted as if to say or do anything, but you were too caught up in yourself to do anything. Instead, he continued to coax you through your panic, “All will be well, but you must share something with me.”

His thumb traveled higher, lightly toying with your bottom lip. As he did such, you asked him for further clarification, “What is it, Aemond?’

His unwavering frown turned into a subtle smirk as you allowed him to take what he wished, “I want you to suck and lick my thumb as Lady Coryanne did to the Lord’s cock in the brothel.”

Shock flooded your senses at the young prince’s request, but could you deny it? If you did not, he might run off and tell your Lord Father or expose your lack of innocence which would ruin you. But maybe your refusal to deny him also came from your deep-seated attraction for the Targaryen prince.

As his thumb protruded past your lips, the choice was made. Almost too eagerly, you began to lap at Aemond’s thumb as you read what the Lady had done with the tip of the Lord’s cock. Your lips then wrapped around the digit, gently sucking at it. Your cheeks then hallowed as you willed yourself to continue… That certainly couldn’t be in the book… Aemond thought.

“Good girl,” Aemond comforted you, “My sweet girl…”

A moment later and Aemond had pulled you around the bookcase, pinning you against a wall. Yet you did not dare to halt your movements, not without his direct order. You sucked off his thumb and then began pressing delicate kisses from the base of the joint to the tip of it before swirling your tongue around it once more.

Aemond growled as his cock strained against the leather of his pants. Without another cautionary thought, he pushed the neckline of your dress to expose one of your shoulders. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to your collarbone before he began to nibble and suck on the soft skin at the juncture between your neck and shoulder. He figured that the resulting mark could easily be covered or passed off as a bruise.

Finally, Aemond pulled off of you and removed his thumb from your lips. You whined wantonly at the loss of contact which resulted in another smirk from him. Both of your eyes met before glancing at the red-purplish spots he left after his own attack.

“Don’t worry, my Lady, you shall have more… in time,” Aemond sneered, “And make no mistake that you are mine… the Seven has seen it and decree it be…”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated. thanks for reading!

625 notes · View notes

ghost-1-y · 1 year ago

Text

Temptation

Angel!Mitsuri x AFAB!Succubus!Reader

Content Warnings: MDNI, dark content, sacrilege, blasphemy, religious themes, dubcon (aphrodisiac), manipulation, sexual content, dom!reader, sub!Mitsuri, unprotected sex, oral (reader receiving), scissoring, virginity loss (Mitsuri), corruption k!nk, praise k!nk, degradation, hair pulling, concepts of "purification" and "chastity", concepts of sex and sexuality being "dirty" and "sinful", slight mentions of blood (not in a sexual context), use of bible verses (in italics), references to bible passages/stories, people who are religious may find this content offensive, please read with caution

Summary: Mitsuri had always done what she was told to do, glorifying her god and helping those who needed it. She never once thought about breaking the rules – much less her vow to chastity, until she found what initially appeared to be a human in a darkened alleyway in need of help, unknowingly falling into a trap that would corrupt her from holiness for the rest of eternity.

Word Count: ~3.3k

Divider Credit: the wonderful @/benkeibear

A/N: so, I used to be religious (Christian), so a lot of this might've come out of my own personal traumas that I experienced (eg. the concept of purification and chastity and being ashamed of having "dirty" thoughts). Obviously, I no longer hold these views (as evidence by writing these fics LMAO), but that somewhat influenced how I wrote this fic, maybe some of y'all will be able to relate? I hope you enjoy!!

Let your light shine before them in such a way that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven.

Mitsuri loved the world, she loved humans and nature and all the beauty that existed in between. She would watch the sun rise upon the earth and how it would cast its rays upon trees and cities as life basked in its holy light.

She loved the night as well – how it brought tranquility and peace as those she watched over rested until the sun peeked over the horizon once more.

She sometimes wished that her light would not interfere with such serenity.

But the world also saddened Mitsuri, she mourned as those she loved from afar returned to dust underneath grassy knolls; her heart broke as she witnessed fighting amongst nations and arguments amongst lovers. She knew that loving the world would bring grief upon her, because the world was infested with sin.

The world would never be perfect, yet she loved it anyways.

So Mitsuri spent her eternity by helping those who needed it – taking on a human form so others wouldn’t be afraid. She helped by working in food banks and soup kitchens – oh how she adored those humans who set such wonderful services up – and would afterwards walk along roads to give food to those who, for whatever reason, found such services inaccessible to them. She would volunteer in hospitals, helping the sick in whatever way she could, and would listen to their stories and offer comfort should they share their suffering with her, holding their hand in hers to offer support – however small.

It was not a coincidence, then, that she caught sight of you, a human lying alone in a darkened alleyway, isolated from the bustling street that was doused in sunlight. You were covered in shadows to the point where it looked like darkness emanated from your body itself, curled up and alone – hiding within the stench of garbage and discarded roadkill.

Mitsuri approached you – her kindness limitless and unbounded by fear as her light blessed your shadowed figure, gentle and warm – a light that was neither blinding nor dim as you looked up at her.

“Are you alright, my love? My name is Mitsuri, I saw you here and wanted to help,” she smiled sweetly. It didn’t matter what language you spoke, since Mitsuri’s words would translate perfectly once they fell from her lips and graced your ears.

Burning lips and a wicked heart are like a potsherd covered with silver dross.

Teary eyed, you smiled up at her, “Thank you, I didn’t think anyone would come, but you’re here now.” Mitsuri’s gentle eyes looked over your condition, a cut on your forehead which was seeping a dark red, and smudges of dirt all over your body.

“Oh, love, let me get you cleaned up a bit!” Mitsuri exclaimed as she secretly materialized some cotton pads, pretending to fish them out of her pocket. She wiped the blood that was dripping down your face, “I don’t have antiseptic wipes on me, would you wait here as I go get them from a convenience store?” You nodded, staring past her shoulder.

If Mitsuri knew any better, she would’ve thought you could see her wings.

Mitsuri rushed across the street and bought the antiseptic wipes, more cotton pads, and a couple bottles of water before running back to help you. She knelt beside you, and began cleaning up your face. “You know, you should take better care of yourself,” she smiled softly as she wet the cotton pads with water and began wiping away the smudges of dirt on your skin.

You said nothing, letting Mitsuri work on you. Once finished, she stood up and held out her hand, “Are you able to stand?” she asked.

You looked down at her hand and reached for it, slowly encasing it in yours, with your index finger pressing against the pulse in her wrist. A strange flush of warmth spread through Mitsuri’s arm and to her chest, causing a shiver to move up her spine. She shook her head, and helped you get up.

The warmth continued to spread and fester within her, and she couldn’t figure out why – you were human, or at least looked like you were.

You gave her a saccharine smile, “I appreciate your help, angel, but I have to get going – I’ll see you around, no?”

Mitsuri’s eyes widened at the pet name you let slip – you couldn’t possibly know what she was – it was a coincidence, that’s all.

She who trusts in her own heart is a fool,

But she who walks wisely will be delivered.

Still, it caught her off-guard, and if she wasn’t flustered before, she definitely was now, slightly panicking despite knowing that humans wouldn’t be able to see her wings, or halo for that matter.

Mitsuri stuttered, “Of course, I– see you around.”

Days passed, and Mitsuri started to believe you’d fallen off the face of the earth – completely unable to sense your presence or soul. Yet, the warmth she felt from holding your hand did not fade – rather, it worsened, beckoning her to drag her dainty fingers along her stomach and downwards.

She shook herself out of it, but the heat lingered and pooled between her legs, so much so that it started to drip down her inner thighs – yet she wouldn’t give in to the temptation, she couldn’t – it was against everything that she was taught, everything that she believed.

Or were the beliefs forced upon her?

It wasn’t until after forty days and forty nights that she sensed you once more. It was early morning, so early that the sun had not graced its rays upon the world quite yet. You sat underneath a lamppost, its artificial light illuminating the bench beneath you, but oddly failing to reflect off of your own soft skin.

“You’re not human, are you?”

You looked up at her, a glint of mischief in your eyes as you shook your head. Standing up, you walked towards her, causing Mitsuri to take a hesitant step back.

“Don’t be shy, angel, I don’t bite – not unless you beg for it.”

“I– I’m not begging,” Mitsuri muttered, as though she were trying to convince herself more than anything.

Submit therefore to God. Resist the devil and she will flee from you.

You approached her once more, and she remained still. Taking her wrist in yours, you slowly graze your nails over the skin of her arm, tracing up and down as she spoke. Her cheeks were red, flushed hot with both the strange warmth that found its home within her soul and now the shame of actually seeking what she desired.

You both sat down on the bench, a shrub blooming with jasmine flowers alongside it – the rich scent flooding her senses as her eyes locked with yours.

Do not desire her beauty in your heart,

Nor let her capture you with her eyelids.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” you asked, fingers circling the pulse point on her wrist.

Mitsuri frowns, “What do you mean?” You take your other hand and place it on hers, tracing your thumb across her skin, sending butterflies into her stomach.

“I mean,” you started, “do you get tired of kindness? Of righteousness?” you questioned, “do you ever wish to know beyond those things?”

“Um…I–” she paused, swallowing thickly, “N-Not really?”

It was a lie, and you knew that.

“Oh, well that’s too bad,” you pouted before leaning in towards her, “because I could show you things you’ve never even felt before, angel.” You glanced up at her, and you could see her eyes pooling with the desire to accept.

“I– I really can’t, it would– it would be against my nature.” An excuse, but a truthful one. If she consented, she would be damning herself – condemning her soul to the farthest reaches of hell.

It was something unthinkable for a being like her.

“Hmm, but nature changes over time, does it not?” you questioned, “if I’m not mistaken, I can see the want in your eyes. You desire this change, yet you won’t grasp for it. Why?”

“You– you wouldn’t be able to understand,” she stuttered, retracting her hands from yours as she formed fists with them in her lap.

“Angel, I think I understand more than anyone else,” you smirked, "to me, you seem lost – you're falling, aren't you, angel?"

You got up from the bench, eyes flashing a brief red as you looked down at her – causing Mitsuri’s breath to catch in her throat.

For the lips of an adulteress drip honey

And smoother than oil is her speech;

But in the end she is bitter as wormwood,

Sharp as a two-edged sword.

Her feet go down to death,

Her steps take hold in the house of it.

“If you wish for more than the mundanity of your everlasting life, you know exactly how to find me,” you told her, and before Mitsuri could look up at you once more, you were gone.

—

Mitsuri knew that it was wrong, she knew that it would go against her vows, her duties, her entire purpose, and yet – she found herself walking past that same alleyway each day, only peering into it out of curiosity before collecting herself and continuing on her way.

Until the seventh day, when she decided to stop in front of the alley, the sun beaming down on her as she stood just outside of it, as though the lined buildings on either side created a threshold that she couldn’t bring herself to pass.

As Mitsuri peered into the shadows, she saw a figure stand up and walk towards her. She couldn’t look into the being’s soul – it was as though it didn’t have one at all. It approached her from the dark, and its silhouette depicted that of sharpened horns and a long tail which was pointed at the end.

“Have you made up your mind, angel?” you asked sweetly, extending your hand past the threshold for her to take, “I promise, you’ll love how it feels to let go.”

Mitsuri hesitated, but as she looked into your eyes, a fire ignited deep within her once more.

My child, if sinners entice you,

Do not consent.

It was all she needed to extend her own hand and place it in yours.

Shocks of electricity traveled up Mitsuri’s arm, much more intense than the warmth she felt before, it traveled deep into her gut, and her face flushed red as she was pulled into the shadows, fully enticed by you.

You pinned her against the wall, her back facing you. Her wings shuddered in excitement as you leaned in towards her ear, “I’m proud of you, angel,” you whispered, your breath hot against her ear, “I know how difficult it must’ve been to give in, I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” You grazed a finger along her left wing, nail lightly scraping against the feathers. She whimpered, her blush hot across her face as heat pooled in her stomach.

“I– I know you’re a–ah…” Mitsuri started, swallowing thickly before a soft moan escaped from her.

“A demon? Yes, angel, I am,” you chuckled, grabbing at her hair to pull her head back, “but I’m not here to hurt you, love, no, I’m here to make you sin.”

You turned her around and kissed her fervently, your lips sweet against hers. It felt euphoric, Mitsuri had never been kissed by anyone before – it was always said to open the doors to lust.

Then when lust has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and when sin is accomplished, it brings forth death.

However, she melted into your kiss, malleable and pliable – eager to feel more of it, the fire inside her being nurtured and stoked as you continued to kiss her innocent lips. You licked at her, and bit down on her bottom lip before parting – a string of saliva connecting her lips to yours, binding her into damnation as she uttered her next words.

“Please, I need more.”

You smirked, and leaned in towards her neck, licking a long stripe with your tongue before kissing just below her earlobe, with Mitsuri letting out tiny mewls and gasps every so often. You traveled further down her neck towards her pulse point. You left marks deep in burgundy upon her as she moaned into your ear.

“I love the sounds you’re making, angel, make some more for me,” you purred, bringing your hand down towards her heat, pushing aside the white linen to rub your fingers along her entrance. “Oh, you’re so wet for me,” you cooed.

“Nngh, n-noo that- that’s dirty,” Mitsuri whined, and you smirked.

“Trust me, you’ll learn to love feeling this way.” Your breath was hot before putting her into yet another searing kiss. She whimpered, but kissed back, slowly accepting her growing addiction towards them.

You circled her clit with your finger, and she whined, face flushed as she tried grinding onto your hand.

“That’s it, angel, take what you need, such a good girl,” you encouraged her, rubbing her clit slightly faster as she ground into you, a blushing mess as she did so. Mitsuri’s moans got progressively louder, loving the sensations once unknown to her.

“Mmh–! I– I feel strange…like something’s building up in me!” she whined, “what– what’s happening–!?”

You kissed her once more, quieting her, “shhh, angel, that’s a good thing, just relax and let it build up, okay?” She moaned again, grinding harder into your hand as she obeyed your words.

“I– It’s gonna–! I’m gonna–!” Mitsuri’s eyes rolled back, letting out a strangled moan as she came all over your hand, juices gushing into your palm as she rode through her orgasm, her hips undulating until she couldn’t take it anymore – quickly becoming overstimulated from the feeling of pleasure coursing through her veins.

“Too– too much! Can’t– no more!” she cried, tears falling down her cheeks. You licked at each stray teardrop, the saltiness of it coating your tongue as you stopped your movements with your hand.

“Such a good girl for me, angel,” you praised, and she hid her face behind her hands in pure embarrassment. You took her by the wrists and held them down.

“Don’t hide your pretty face from me, I want to see every last bit of your pleasure.”

Mitsuri whined and asked “can you– can you do that again, please?” Her tone was so sweet, begging for more like a pathetic slut who has abandoned all of her morals.

However, you refused, “if you wish for more of that, you’ll have to please me, first.” Mitsuri looked at you, confused, before you shoved her down to her knees, her face in line with your hips – the pretty lingerie you were wearing disappearing in an instant before you took her by the hair and pulled her towards your weeping cunt. “Make me feel good, angel, and I might consider actually fucking you this time.”

Mitsuri’s eyes dropped from your face down to your pussy, admiring how sweet and juicy it looked.

When the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, she took from its fruit and ate.

So, she went entirely off of her own instinct as she brought her mouth to your heat, before licking at the wetness of it with her tongue. The sweetness of it coating the inside of her mouth like syrup; Mitsuri had never even thought of committing such lewd acts before, but now that she’d gotten a taste, she couldn’t help herself.

She started off shy, with kitten licks and tentative kisses on your clit. She may not have experience in giving pleasure, but she was there in the beginning when humans, angels, and devils alike were all created in the same image, and so she knew the insides and outs of their bodies unlike any other.

Her tongue delved deeper into your cunt, licking up any juices that seeped out of it, earning soft groans and grunts from you as you pulled at her hair. She adored your taste – it was addictive, a taste that she would gladly sin for if it meant she could feast upon it for the eternity of her damnation.

Her lips pursed around your clit before sucking gently, your eyes rolling back as she looked up at you. She whimpered, wishing you’d make eye contact with her and tell her she was doing such a good job – instead only receiving a few strokes through her hair as you thrived off of the pleasure that her mouth was giving you. Her own cunt was weeping, the heat from her abdomen becoming unbearable as she continued licking you up with her tongue – so much so that she reached down between her legs with her fingers, but before she could provide herself even the slightest bit of relief, you yanked her by the hair.

“You think you can touch yourself without my permission? Think you’re allowed to make yourself feel good? No, angel. Only I am allowed to do that. Any and all pleasure you receive, any and all sin that you commit, will be caused by me – for my sake.” You leaned down closer to her, breath hot against her face, “do you understand me?”

Mitsuri nodded, only to wince as you gripped her hair tighter.

“Say it.”

“Yes, I– I understand,” Mitsuri spoke softly as she removed her hand from between her thighs.

“Good girl.”

You pulled Mitsuri up once more and, in an incredible display of flexibility, she raised her right leg so that it pointed up toward the sky, with you supporting her by holding her up by your hand.

“Hah– you’re no angel, are you? Angels don’t act this way, y’know– you’re just a pathetic little slut, a pleasure-seeking whore that can never get enough,” you panted, before mounting your foot against the wall so your cunt was flush against hers, grinding against her wet heat. You grabbed her by the jaw and forced her to look at you.

“What are you, hm? Tell me.”

“I– I–” she whined, “I’m– ‘m your slut…oh shit, ‘m your slut!”

“That’s right, you’re nothing but a stupid cumslut, aren’t you? Raised to be holy and perfect, but look at you, drunk on lust all because some demon tempted you. How pathetic.”

Mitsuri whined as you ground into her, feeling absolutely no shame as she condemned herself further with each movement of your hips. The familiar tension in her gut started to build up once more as she took everything you gave her.

“Nngh– it- it’s happening a-ah– again!” she moaned, and you ground against her faster.

“That’s it, slut, cum all over my cunt. Sin for me.”

Mitsuri’s thighs trembled as her orgasm flooded through her in waves, her mind addled with euphoria and lust as her pussy gushed all over you, her moans so raw and unbridled as she allowed you to claim her as yours, knowing she will never find pleasure like this through anything or anyone except you.

You are my God, and I give thanks to You;

You are my God, I extol You.

“My– my God,” she panted, “you– you are my God.” She knew it was blasphemous, yet she didn’t care, for she found a new being to worship, to love and to praise as she damned herself for the rest of eternity, certain that she would choose this over holiness in every lifetime if given the honor to do so.

For Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever.

Amen.

Taglist: @oreo-creampie, @k-a-t-h-r-i-n-a, @wow-im-gay, @peanutpunchy, @love-me-satoru, @crazycatlddy, @pastelbluecloudy3, @dinosaur-crime-scene, @thisbicc, @gojoscumslut, @bisexuawolfsalt, @everyonesfinaldestination, @leehoonii-i, @kyojurismo, @briefrebelfanalmond, @izuoyarmin, @ahashiraswife, @d1gitalbathh, @homo-homini-lupus-est-1701

(If your name was crossed out, it means tumblr didn't allow me to tag you - apologies for the inconvenience)

I hope you all enjoyed!!! 💕

355 notes · View notes

peakyswritings · 1 year ago

Text

Heart, Body and Soul || Tommy Shelby x OC

PART I

Summary: When the conflict with a powerful family threatens to bring down the Shelby Clan, Tommy takes a trip to Italy. In order to stop the disaster, two families must become one: marriage seems to be the only way to seal an alliance and bring peace. It’s Nina Ferrante, fierce and rebellious, the one who slowly makes her way into his heart, with steps so light he doesn’t even realise it. But things are not as easy as they may seem: one, Tommy is expected to marry her cousin, and two - Nina has no intention of getting married.

Warnings: mentions of arranged marriage, slow-burn, small age-gap (Tommy’s 30, Nina is in her early 20s), English is not my first language.

A/N: here’s the first chapter of my new series. This is set somewhere between season 1 and 2. At the end, you’ll find the translation of a couple of Italian expressions. Feedback is always appreciated🤍

SERIES MASTERLIST

SERIES MOODBOARD

Gif credit

Dividers credit

Tommy gazed out the window of the car, watching the landscape pass before his eyes. The small Sicilian village was so different from Birmingham. It was rural, peaceful, and the air was clean, he could fill his lungs without smelling the smoke and the shit. Beyond the uphill road, he could even hear the sound of the sea. Had he been in a different situation, he would’ve enjoyed that sound, along with the feeling of the sunlight on his face.

But he had to stay focused. Because he was alone, and the men in the car with him were speaking words he couldn’t understand. They could’ve easily taken him to an empty field and put a bullet in his head, and no one would’ve known. His hand went to the gun inside his coat, taking in the feeling of security brought by the contact of the cold metal against his skin.

Vincenzo Ferrante said something to the driver, then his eyes met Tommy’s through the rearview mirror. There was a strange glimpse in them, something that vaguely resembled amusement. He knew he had the upper hand.

A familiar tingling sensation crawled over the back of Tommy’s neck. It was the way of his body to tell him that danger was near, had started to get it in France, and it hadn’t left him since. His fingers forcefully pressed against the grip of the gun as his hold tightened for a few seconds. Then, slowly, he released it, his hand coming to rest on his lap. He took a deep breath, pulling himself together. He had a deal with those people, and it would go through.

One week earlier

Tommy walked into the betting shop, his steps resonating over the wooden floor as he strode among the desks in the empty room. Empty, except for his aunt, who was waiting for him behind the main table.

“Here’s the information I found.” He said, tossing a folder on the wooden surface. Polly furrowed her eyebrows, grabbing it so that she could examine its content. It was full of photographs, letters and documents. God knew how Tommy had managed to get his hands on them.

“Go on.” She mumbled.

“Antonio Ferrante has two brothers, Vincenzo and Mario. They came to England when they were children, and they were raised here. Twenty-five years ago, Vincenzo and Mario went back to Sicily to start their business, both legal and illegal, while Antonio stayed here to carry on their legal race tracking operation. Of course, his organisation also has two sides. Vincenzo moves between Italy and England to help him with the other side. He’s here now. He’s been helping him with the attacks.”

Three attacks. Three attacks in one week. Tommy had never seen something like that. Those Italians were sly and quick, and extremely organised. They started by blowing up two of the pubs under the Peaky Blinders’ protection, then they proceeded to find one of their warehouses, and they blew it up as well. It was a matter of time before they came for the Shelbys.

Polly sighed, putting the papers back into the folder. Just when everything seemed to be going in the right direction, another bomb was dropped upon them. Quite literally.

Tommy rubbed his eyes, taking his time before continuing. “Ferrante was cooperating with Kimber. Thanks to this alliance, the family had secured a place at the top of the betting business. By killing Billy Kimber…”

“We stepped on their toes.” Polly finished his sentence.

“And now they want revenge. Yesterday they took three of our men.” He sighed, leaning against the desk behind him. That was another thing he had to take care of. He had to write to their families, send his condolences, and open a fund for them so that they could manage to sustain themselves without their husbands, fathers and brothers to take the money home. It was unpleasant, but it had to be done.

��It’s the Italian Mafia we’re talking about.” Tommy spoke again. “They have an organisation of bigger dimensions. If Ferrante calls the rest of his relatives from Sicily, it’s over for us.”

“So what’s the plan?” She asked, taking a cigarette from the pocket of her apron before placing it between her lips.

“Antonio Ferrante only has sons,” He started to explain, taking a match to light his aunt’s cigarette. “But his brothers have daughters-”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Polly’s head shot in his direction, eyes wide with disbelief as she could already imagine what he was trying to say.

“I’m talking about marriage, Polly. I’m going to marry one of the girls.”

Tommy couldn’t even believe his words as he said them. Before Grace, marriage had never crossed his mind, and after she left for New York, he was quite sure he would never find another woman. But there he was, selling himself so that his family could survive.

Despite the initial shock, Polly quickly regained her composure. She took a long drag from her cigarette, pondering her nephew’s words. “Why would they accept your offer?”

“Because by joining our forces, we can take down Sabini.”

“Do you think they’ll go against their own?” She inquired, a hint of scepticism in her voice.

“The Italians are fighting among themselves, now. Ferrante is also at war with Sabini, and he can’t defeat him on his own. Once Sabini’s taken care of, we’ll grant the Ferrante family a good place at the top of the business, even better than the one they occupied with Kimber.”

As much as Tommy tried to sound confident, he couldn’t hide his agitation. He couldn’t estimate the odds, there were no chances, no percentages. Everything felt unpredictable and beyond his control. He turned to grab the bottle of whiskey from the desk and poured himself a glass under Polly’s stare. It felt like she could read into him, like she could see right into his brain and know each one of his thoughts. It had always been like that, since he was a kid. It bothered him, sometimes, but deep down it was a relief to know that there was someone who could understand him without needing him to speak.

He downed all the whiskey in his glass, relishing the burning sensation. It grounded him, in some way. “Today I’m meeting Antonio and Vincenzo Ferrante.” He said, placing the glass on the table with a thud. “I’ll make the terms for peace.”

“How did it go?”

Tommy heard Polly’s question before he could see her. As soon as he entered the kitchen, he was met with her expectant eyes, her gaze scanning his face, looking for an answer. She poured him a glass of whiskey as he removed his coat and placed it on a chair.

“They accepted.” He just said, grabbing the glass. Polly’s expression relaxed for a moment, and she breathed a sigh of relief, but that relief was swept away as she noticed how her nephew was avoiding her gaze.

She waited for him to continue, but her patience ran out quickly. “And?” She asked.

Tommy sat on a chair and took a sip of whiskey. “And I’m going to Sicily to meet my spouse.”

There was some kind of inflection in his voice, one that not even Polly was able to define. But there was also a small particular in what he had said, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

“You’re going to Sicily?” She inquired, raising her eyebrows.

“Yes.”

“Alone?” She emphasised, leaning with a hand on the table, not taking her eyes off of his face.

“Yes.” He repeated, keeping his eyes on the bottle in front of him, well aware of how dangerous and imprudent it sounded.

“Tommy, are you mad?” She yelled, yanking away the bottle so that he would look at her. He finally raised his eyes, and silence fell between them for a while as he tried to find the words.

“I need you here to take control of the business while I’m gone. You’re the only one who can do that.” He explained, standing up so that he could speak to her face to face. “And I can’t take John and Arthur with me, because there need to be Shelbys here in Small Heath.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed.” She spat.

Tommy placed his hands on her shoulders, the hint of a smile making its way on his face. “Think of it like this: if I don’t come back, all of this will be yours.” He pointed towards the door that opened on the betting shop. “You’ll make a good fortune.” He joked, trying to lighten the air.

However, his aunt didn’t seem amused. She just shook her head, a look of defeat in her eyes. “I could try and talk some sense into you, but you’ve already decided, haven’t you?”

Without answering, Tommy walked past her to take ahold his glass and drink the rest of his whiskey. He cleared his throat, gathering himself as best as he could. “Vincenzo Ferrante is going back to his family in three days. I’m going with him.”

Present day

The car drew to a halt. Beyond an iron gate stretched a large garden, which was divided in two halves by a gravel path that led up to two big houses. As the driver got out of the car to open the gates, Tommy couldn’t help but feel relieved. No empty field. No ditch waiting for him.

“I guess you’re hungry, Mr. Shelby. It’s been a long journey.” Vincenzo Ferrante suddenly spoke, taking him away from his thoughts. Before Tommy could answer, he continued. “Later we’re having lunch, and I’ll introduce you to the family. Communication won’t be a problem, me and Mario raised all of our children to speak both English and Italian, just like Antonio. For the sake of business.” He clarified.

Tommy just nodded, unsure about what to say. He half expected to be dead before even getting to the village, so communication had been the last of his thoughts.

Not caring much about his silence, Vincenzo pointed towards the house on the left. “That’s my house, and the other is my brother’s. You’ll be my guest. Since we’re suggesting you to marry my niece Agnese, we thought it would be improper for you to stay in the same house as her.”

Agnese. She was said to be the oldest, and the prettiest, and the most fitted to be a wife. However, they had assured him that if he were to find someone more to his liking, he would be free to choose, he just had to make the decision before starting to court her. They wanted things to be done the proper way.

Tommy leaned back in his seat, the need for a cigarette suddenly kicking in. “It’s understandable.”

The brief ride towards the houses was silent. In that short amount of time, Tommy tried to guess what the following weeks had in store for him, how his life would look like in a month, but truth was, he really couldn’t tell. He had no idea, and that was terrifying, even for someone like him. But he had to stay calm, focused. He couldn’t allow himself to let his guard down.

When he got out of the car, he had to keep himself from breathing a sigh of relief. He was finally able to stretch his legs after being seated for what felt like ages. He thanked the driver who handed him his suitcase, then proceeded to take a look around. The two houses - even though they were separated from each other - formed some sort of angle. In the shared garden a long table had been set up, and from the numbers of chairs Tommy could tell that a great number of relatives would be joining them for lunch.

“Papà!”

A female voice echoed in the garden, and a raven-haired girl ran down the stairs that led to the front door of Vincenzo’s house. In a matter of seconds she was in the garden, and she wrapped her arms around the man’s neck.

“Ciao, amore di papà.” Ferrante said, taking her face in his hands to leave a tender kiss on her forehead. “Come stai?”

She opened her mouth to say something, but was quickly distracted by Tommy’s presence. A glimpse of confusion flickered across her dark eyes, then something really close to realisation seemed to hit her.

Ferrante took a step back, so that Tommy and that girl could be in front of each other. “Nina, this is Tommy Shelby. Mr. Shelby, this is Nina, my daughter.”

Tommy watched as she furrowed her brows, hesitating for a couple of seconds before holding out her hand. Her eyes, that a few seconds before were warm and full of affection for her father, were now cold and wary. And there was something defiant in the way she refused to be the first to break eye contact. It was something that Tommy wasn’t used to, he had grown accustomed to people lowering their heads in his presence, not daring to even look at him. This girl clearly knew who he was, and yet she refused to be intimidated. It was quite admirable.

Soon, Tommy realised that he had probably let his hand linger in hers for a bit too long. He let it fall to his side, clearing his throat. “Pleasure.”

“Nina, why don’t you show our guest his room?” Ferrante suggested, placing a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “So you make yourself comfortable before lunch, Mr. Shelby.”

She said something in Italian, and even though Tommy couldn’t understand a single word, from the tone of her voice and her disgruntled expression he could tell that she was displeased. Nevertheless, a reproachful “Nina” uttered by her father, accompanied by a stern look, seemed to do the trick.

She glanced at Tommy one more time, before turning around and starting to walk towards the house. “Come with me.” She said, without worrying about whether he was following her or not.

Tightening his hold on the suitcase, Tommy started to walk behind her. If Nina’s cousin was half as hostile as her, he was truly fucked.

“Ciao, amore di papà”: “hi, darling” (literally - “hi, dad’s love”)

“Come stai?”: “how are you?”

NEXT PART

Tagging @zablife , cause I remember you asking me to tag you when this was out🤍

#peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby x oc #heart body and soul

252 notes · View notes

scarletarosa · 2 years ago

Text

Guide to Working with Deities

Gods and goddesses are extremely ancient beings of immense power and wisdom. There are some who have been alive since the beginning of the universe, long before humans or any other mortal beings were brought into existence (the most ancient one being Lucifer). And others were created later on, either by the Greater Deities outside this universe, or from being born as children of deities in this universe. When the mortal races began being created, there were gods who began forming pantheons to watch over them and be in charge of their progress.

The children of these pantheon gods often remained in the pantheon as well; however, most deities don’t limit themselves to just one pantheon, as they often go to multiple other lands (or sometimes other planets) to help different people, or approach certain individuals who they see worth in. They weren’t always included in the other pantheons because of this, since these deities weren’t staying permanently and would approach other cultures and individuals as they saw fit. Also, there are many deities who aren’t known to any culture, since they choose not to have any divine duties and simply want to enjoy existence in peace, or to focus solely on their own evolution.

All deities tend to be serious to some degree, but some are more approachable than others since they can be a bit more laid-back. But it is important to remember that gods are not like humans; yes they have passions, get married, and enjoy life, but they do not have a human mentality. They have all experienced thousands of years, millions of years, or even more (for the very ancient gods). They also have a much higher perspective than we do, and are extremely mature as beings with immense insight. So they will not agree with everything that humans think is moral, and they also don’t tend to act how people expect them to, since they are very deep and advanced beings and they don’t have human behaviours; they’re separate beings entirely to us.

The gods are also not always going to be nice towards you, since many will be serious or some may even be harsh; these things depend on the deity’s personality and also their method of teaching. But overall, the gods are just and operate based on their own wisdom (unless the deity is malevolent, which a few known ones are, such as Apep). Besides that, plenty of deities have even killed humans who angered them greatly, often those humans who desecrated their temples or harmed humans they cared for. So they are not usually as peace-loving and forgiving as some may think.

Who to Work With

Which deity you work with is largely up to you. The majority of deities welcome any human who is respectful and spiritually open, and are often happy to help you learn and develop through lessons of wisdom. So if there is a deity you feel a strong pull towards, it’s likely that you either worshipped them in a past life, and/or you are destined to worship them in this life in order to learn significant things about yourself and your life mission. In these cases, you are encouraged to reach out to that god and speak with them. The deities are always pleased to listen to serious spiritual questions from you, and to help guide you with things that are important in your life. If you aren’t certain if the deity wants to help you with something, you only need to ask them through tarot, which is the best way if you don’t have accurate enough astral hearing.

Different Levels of Worship

You can worship as many deities as you like, but the level of worship depends on how devoted you wish to be. The most basic level of worship is general reverence towards a god or goddess, showing your love, gratitude, and deep respect for them. This can be done by speaking to the deity on occasion, whenever you feel the need, and to offer them praise and an offering. This can be done for many deities who you feel the desire to honour, but not to be very close to.

The next level is when you wish to be deeply devoted to a god or goddess. This means that you will request the deity of your choosing if they can watch over you closely and help guide you on multiple areas of your life, or on something specific that is important to you. This deity will act as your mentor in a way, and will expect you to speak with them often (not every day, but not to go months without speaking). You also don’t have to give them offerings every day or week even; usually, offerings should be given when you feel the desire to show your love, and when the deity does something to help you.

A deity will never force you or command you to worship them, and they also will not abuse or cause harm to you (unless the deity is malevolent- but the vast majority of gods in the pantheons aren’t malevolent). However, if you do something to anger the deity, either by showing unwanted lust towards them, calling them nicknames, or speaking about them in a disrespectful manner, the gods are more than likely to punish you in some way, depending on what they believe deserves to be done. Often, this punishment may take the form of a curse, which is very powerful and cannot be removed like a human-made curse.

But it should also be noted that there are many deities who will put you through a period of hardship in order to help you evolve. This is typically done with people who are more spiritual and aren’t casually worshipping the deities. Yet these challenges aren’t as severe as the challenges demons give to their worshippers, since the Left Hand Path is harsher than both the Middle Path and Middle-Left Path, which the majority of deities follow. Since these pantheon gods typically follow either the Middle or Middle-Left Path, they strongly value wisdom, self-mastery, balance, connection to the Earth, and strength of heart. So you may be tested in these things to help you grow and become better as a person, and to also overcome your weaknesses. Yet they (and demons) will not put you through anything that will damage your life, your mental health, physical health, or anything you aren’t truly ready for. They all can see into us and know what we can and cannot currently handle; so if something bad like the above happens while worshipping a god or demon, please don’t assume it’s them and instead ask them what is happening. The likely answer is that other things are at work, possibly negative energy from the world, your human rivals, a curse from a witch, or simply just difficult circumstances in life, which happen to everyone.

Though keep in mind that there are some gods who are actually malevolent and enjoying harming humans as their role, some examples include Apep and Eris (goddess of enmity and discord).

Patrons

Every person is guided by at least 4 or 5 deities during their lives- these gods and goddesses are ones who watch over the person and help them learn things that will contribute to their life mission. Usually, these deities don’t make themselves known to the people they watch over, especially since the majority of humans aren’t very spiritual. Sometimes, one of these gods may even leave the person at some point if the person completes a certain lesson that the deity was teaching them. So with their role completed, the deity will move on.

How to Work with Deities

When working with deities, it is very important to remember to be respectful and to know your place with them- don’t view them as your buddy to make jokes with or to think you are equal with them. They are gods, and they will always be far more advanced than any human. Deities also tend to become irritated when humans place labels on them or view them as if they are characters in stories; they don’t view these things the way you do and see this as very disrespectful. They expect their followers to take them seriously and not view spirituality as a game, so be aware of this higher perspective and don’t bring the gods down to your level, because none of them will appreciate this and they may become distant. You don’t have to be overly polite however, but make sure to have manners and listen to them when they give you advice. Chances are that the god knows you far better than you know yourself; so when they have advice to give, pay attention to it and don’t take it for granted.

If you would like to request a deity to come to your home so you can speak with them in-person, this can be done. Remember though that the gods have their own lives and are often busy with divine tasks or personal matters, so if they don’t arrive right away or at all, don’t assume that they are ignoring you because they likely aren’t. Thankfully, gods are able to be in multiple places at once (to a certain degree), so this makes it even more likely for them to have the opportunity to visit followers who request their presence.

When the deity does arrive to you, it is polite to bow your head to them as a show of respect. The gods are all very tall but will shrink themselves a bit when inside your home (they tend to be almost ceiling-height). Make sure to make wise use of this time, since you have the honour of having a god visit you. You can ask them questions or use this time to understand them better; they don’t usually get impatient and are often glad to answer spiritual things or to give advice. When you are done speaking with the deity, it is good to let them know and they will depart.

Astral senses

Astral senses, such as astral sight and astral hearing, are both essential to strive for if someone wishes to be deeply spiritual. This is mostly because the best way to try and understand a deity is to speak with them; no book on mythology could ever show you the essence of a deity and how they truly are. But keep in mind that astral sight often takes around a year or more of constant practice to become very clear; so if you are devoted enough and wish to strive for this, the deities will acknowledge this. But astral hearing is much more difficult to be mastered, since it requires more years of practice while also learning how to tune-out your own identity and desires at will, to allow yourself to become void inside, becoming a vessel for the spiritual voices (this is not recommended to do if you have psychosis). If this skill is not developed properly, what one will usually believe to be a deity or spirit speaking to them often ends up being their own mind (voices that are mental projections), based on their preconceived ideas of how that deity/spirit behaves. This is why one must silence their self completely, and have no ideas of their own during astral hearing, which takes a lot of self-mastery, as well as years to be perfected.

But while the astral senses allow for a very deep connection to the gods, and is a very worthwhile goal to strive for, it is not the only way to communicate if you don’t have these skills yet. The other way one can speak with a deity or spirit (to a lesser degree) is through tarot cards, although it is best to develop an accurate skill in this practice beforehand. With tarot cards, you can mainly only receive advice from the deity or insight about yourself, as any other topic is too complex to receive answers from by cards, especially if you wish to ask what the deity is like. I would however strongly recommend people not to use pendulums for spirit communication since they are heavily unreliable. This is because pendulums are very sensitive to energies and can move over the simplest thing, even your own desire for where it should move. So because of this, it is unwise to use this object to speak with gods or any spirits, since it will more often than not tell you nonsense or things that you want it to tell you.

Also, don’t feel bad if you cannot hear or see the deities; they won’t get mad or impatient with you for this. The vast majority of people in the ancient times couldn’t do these things, since they weren’t devoted to a spiritual life (that’s what the priests/priestesses, oracles, or shamans were for). So if the best you can do is pray to them and allow their guidance to take form in your life, that is perfectly fine.

Imposter Spirits

On the topic of communicating with deities and spirits, there is a category of spirit that is not only highly malevolent, but they are often prone towards pretending to be someone they aren’t. These malicious entities are called tar spirits, which are beings made out of corrupt energy that looks like tar (these usually are spawned from the body of Apep). Tar spirits are in their millions and are constantly darting through Earth or going through cities to attack people, causing either minor problems or more serious issues (such as tempting people to commit suicide, causing mental disturbances, physical pains, or attempting possession).

But one of the most common things they do is pretend to be a deity or spirit that someone trusts; they often do this in order to use that form to try and seduce their human target, which will cause them to bring more tar spirits through causing a pregnancy in their astral body. Or, they may seduce that human and have sex with them often, which will cause that person to begin developing physical pains, illnesses, or mental issues.

Take note that it is rare for a god or spirit to be attracted to humans, especially in the modern times where people are even more incompatible with their personalities. It is also because many gods already have relationships with other deities, and so they may have no interest in such things for this reason. Another effect is that if the person begins to view deities sexually through these experiences, it will badly affect their spirituality and make it more shallow, as well as making it so that they don’t truly take the gods seriously anymore. So for all these reasons, make sure to be cunning and wise, and remember the warning signs of having an imposter spirit with you. Also, it is safer to speak to deities by directing your words through your mind to them (like telepathy), since the tar spirits won’t hear you this way.

Study the Mythology, but not as if it’s 100% true

This is another very common mistake that has occurred in new age spirituality, possibly because many people are used to religions like Christianity, where the “holy” books are claimed to be true and unquestionable. But for the ancient civilizations, they didn’t do this. Their mythology was often either three things: a true account (which may or may not have been embellished over-time by other story-tellers), a teaching story using the gods and allegories to bring lessons of wisdom and morality, or a story of the gods written for entertainment purposes only (like for theatre)- these were not always respectful to the deities however, which would sometimes anger the gods. But even for the myths based on true accounts, be aware that the spiritual humans who witnessed these events usually did not fully understand what was taking place, as the events of the divine are greatly complex. So these were myths written by the perspectives of the humans who knew of them, and over time, may have been embellished even further.

The only way to truly know what is real and what isn’t is if you master your astral abilities, but since this is uncommon and takes years, it is best to read the myths with a pinch of salt. You can also ask some gods if a certain myth is true or not, and you can draw tarot cards to ask them how they feel about it. This may not be the best way to get answers, but it can help a little, especially if they feel strongly for or against the story.

For example, Athena doesn’t like the myth where it’s said she cursed a woman to become a spider- she explains this was simply a metaphor for the spider goddess. And she also explains that Medusa was never a victim, since that was a poem written by a Roman (Ovid), whereas the original Greek myth told the truth- that Medusa was born monstrous and was always malicious. That is why the Greek warriors had Medusa’s severed head on their shields, since bearing her head was a sign of achievement over evil (which is also why Athena is adorned with this symbol).

Ways to Bond with Deities

There are many things you can do to bond with the deities. You can create art for them, sing for them, write devotional poetry, speak with them, etc. Many gods value their followers’ acts of love and care, since they care for many of us.

The gods all have been through great pain and hardship over their long existences, and many of them mourn over their lost civilizations which were raped and destroyed by the Abrahamic invaders, eventually causing the descendants of their own people to turn against them. Even now, people everywhere are continuing to break the temples that are already in ruins, or smashing ancient sculptures. So when a human anywhere in the world calls upon a deity out of respect, that deity will often see that human as worthy to be approached. They wish to help us end the dark ages of spirituality and to see reality as it actually is- not by making jokes about the gods or seeing things in simplistic ways, but to truly experience the spiritual and to see the grand complexities of existence.

Offerings

When giving offerings to the gods, it should usually be something that they connect with energetically, but they also tend to accept things that you give purely out of love. But for incense, it must be a scent they connect with energetically, otherwise it will be unsuitable (for instance, one should never offer a soft scent to Ares, like something floral). Incense should also be bought at a good quality and not something cheaply made. Offerings are meant to be sacrifices, wherein you sacrifice your own time or money to obtain something the deity would like, and you then devote it to them. Offerings can also be artwork you make for them or poetry you write for them, or even to create a digital altar for them (although it is best to have a physical altar if possible).

When you have given an offering to a deity, you should place it on their altar or on a clean surface if no altar is available. Make sure to announce to the deity that the offering is for them, bow your head, and then you can leave. If the offering is food or drink, you may leave it there for around a day, but do not partake of them. After the day, you can take the food and/or drink and respectfully discard it down the sink or into the trash. If the food was something solid (like chocolate), you can wrap it into a napkin while stating that you are discarding it into the trash as there is no other way. Make sure that you do not leave food or drink offerings out for a long time (like a week or more), as it has lost its essence, since the gods partook from it. Without its essence, the food/drink is energetically hollow and will begin to create a dip in the room if left for a long time. If the offering is something like an object, then you should leave it there at the altar or wherever you have a spot designated for that deity. This object cannot be used for yourself from then on, as it is a sacrifice. Also, if you offer a crystal to a deity, then that crystal can only be used to connect with them from then on.

All these efforts help you to be seen as respectable by the gods, and they will likely become more open towards you and doing more to guide you. It is also a way to train yourself spiritually, to see the beauty of sacrifice and to give something up for something greater.

#polytheism #paganism #deities #demons #gods #deity work #demonolatry #entities #spirits #spirituality #devotion #worship #patron deities #astral senses #spiritual devotion

524 notes · View notes

shushmal · 10 months ago

Text

Eddie only just was able to get the barman's permission to perform this night, and glad he is for it, as his pockets have weighed lighter than ever before in his life. He'd be pleased to find pay in a tankard or loaf tonight, anything to fill his aching belly.

But he's lucky as the men and women here seem to be in high spirits. The land has long been in war since the king's death, rotten bastard he may have been. Eddie hadn't been sad to see him go, but the chaos that followed had ruined the smallfolk in consequence since their coward prince had fled the scene of his crime. The king had been cruel, but still he'd been their king, and the common people spit on the prince's name still, even when some new royal's been crowned and brought peace with him.

And that kind of ire is what feeds Eddie on nights like this.

"Kingslayer, kingslayer, little Prince Steven has run," he sings, bawdy and loud as the crowd of men around him sing along. "Run up the hills and past the sun, took our king Phillip and gutted him plain, our kingslayer Prince Steven, a coward more than a maid!"

They sing along with him, hooting and hollering all to the end of it, and pay him in copper coins and ale that Eddie takes happily, slurping it down as he rests by the fire.

It's then he sees the table in the corner, the cloaked figures surrounding it, and the woman glaring daggers at him. But more interesting than that is the most beautiful man Eddie's ever seen, smiling at him wearily, eyes bright and interested and a little sad. Eddie's got no fear of a quick tumble with dangerous men, so he takes his gittern and his ale and makes his way quickly to them.

"Fair night, weary travelers," Eddie crows as he wiggles himself between the woman and the beautiful man. "What brings you so far out from the capitol?"

The lot of them regard him with mixed interest, the older man not even looking up and a girl with firey hair treating him with a sign of boredom.

"What business is yours to know, bard?" she says, already turning her nose off to watch the rowdy tavern beyond their table.

"None at all," Eddie says, leaning into the man beside him, slinging an arm over his broad shoulder to feel the heat of him beneath his cloak. "I'm here to do nothing but entertain tonight, and I fear I've bored your table to tears! I do take requests you know, for the right coin."

This he says to the man under his arm, leaning in closer to get a good look at those pretty brown eyes in the dim light of the fire.

"We have no coin for you, sot," says the woman beside them, ire evident in her tone. "Be gone with you—"

"No coin, that's true," says Eddie's beautiful man. He smiles at Eddie now, pearly teeth and pretty lips, and Eddie would sing him any song for nothing more than to keep those eyes on him. "You'll have to forgive us, we're not good company I'm afraid."

"Richer company wouldn't be as sweet as yours, dove," Eddie tells him, watching the pink of his cheeks darken.

There's a gagging sound from across the table, and its then that Eddie realizes he's in the company of striplings. Two girls in men's clothes, both of them are young in the face and barely past their majorities. Yet still they are travel-worn, all five of them: the two girls, the woman and the dour man, and the beautiful budde under Eddie's arm.

Chuckling, he says to Eddie, "A wag you are, bard, with such empty words. Do you flirt so with all poor men you find?"

"None are poorer than me, sweeting, and none are more enchanting than you. It is payment enough just to look at you, and I would sing for an age and fill my empty stomach with just your smile, or your taste if you'd grant me—"

"Gods damned!" the woman Eddie's other side gusts. "I cannot hear another foul word." She stands then, and the two girls follow, one rolling her eyes and the other giggling quitely. The woman leans past Eddie and hisses into her companion's ear, "Be done with this fool swiftly, or I'll leave you to the wolves."

"You'd never," he says back to her, smiling at Eddie, face flushed pretty and dark even as he speaks.

"Hopper would never," she says tilting her head at the remaining dour man still sitting at the table, deep into his cups and paying no mind to any around them. "But I would sell you for tanner and a duck to the first bidder."

"I'm worth at least an ox," he tells her with a cocky grin, and Eddie might want more than just one tumble with this man. "Find a room and I'll find you when I please to."

She huffs and stomps off, the girls on her heels.

"So," Eddie breathes, leaning even further into this beautiful man, until his voice is a secretive whisper, just for the two of them to hear. "Tell me, sweeting, what shall I call you when I write songs of your beauty to sing across the land, until kings beg me to their courts to recount your grace, your smile and your laugh?"

This man, to Eddie's displeasure, seems to wilt, to grow weary once more, even as he smiles and leans close, his words scarcely a breath against the shell of Eddie's ear.

"If it pleases you, and I'm sure that it won't," he confesses. "You can call me Steven."

#steddie #steddie fic #i need more Arthurian/medieval/historical fantasy steddie #and this is just a lil scene that has been haunting me for a while #idk what to even do with it!!!!#just steve robin hopper el and max on the run after steve kills his dad and they accidentally pick up eddie along the way #dw the rest of the party too #just love the idea of eddie singing some mean as tavern song about kingslaying prince steve and prince steve being there and sighing #robin homophobic dog barking at him #eddie flipping out like 'i had no idea he was a fucking hottie idgaf WHO he killed he could kill me if he wanted esp between those thighs—'#and then robin hits him #anyways this is silly thank you for stopping by #shush mal #my fic #dribble drabble #my steddies

59 notes · View notes

mybeautifulchristianjourney · 11 days ago

Text

Pharaoh Pursues the Israelites

1 And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying, 2 Speak to the children of Israel, and let them turn and encamp before the village, between Magdol and the sea, opposite Beel-sepphon: before them shalt thou encamp by the sea. 3 And Pharao will say to his people, As for these children of Israel, they are wandering in the land, for the wilderness has shut them in. 4 And I will harden the heart of Pharao, and he shall pursue after them; and I will be glorified in Pharao, and in all his host, and all the Egyptians shall know that I am the Lord. And they did so.

5 And it was reported to the king of the Egyptians that the people had fled: and the heart of Pharao was turned, and that of his servants against the people; and they said, What is this that we have done, to let the children of Israel go, so that they should not serve us? 6 So Pharao yoked his chariots, and led off all his people with himself: 7 having also taken six hundred chosen chariots, and all the cavalry of the Egyptians, and rulers over all. 8 And the Lord hardened the heart of Pharao king of Egypt, and of his servants, and he pursued after the children of Israel; and the children of Israel went forth with a high hand. 9 And the Egyptians pursued after them, and found them encamped by the sea; and all the cavalry and the chariots of Pharao, and the horsemen, and his host were before the village, over against Beel-sepphon.

10 And Pharao approached, and the children of Israel having looked up, beheld, and the Egyptians encamped behind them: and they were very greatly terrified, and the children of Israel cried to the Lord; 11 and said to Moses, Because there were no graves in the land of Egypt, hast thou brought us forth to slay us in the wilderness? What is this that thou hast done to us, having brought us out of Egypt? 12 Is not this the word which we spoke to thee in Egypt, saying, Let us alone that we may serve the Egyptians? for it is better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in this wilderness.

13 And Moses said to the people, Be of good courage: stand and see the salvation which is from the Lord, which he will work for us this day; for as ye have seen the Egyptians to-day, ye shall see them again no more for ever. 14 The Lord shall fight for you, and ye shall hold your peace.

Parting the Red Sea

15 and the Lord said to Moses, Why criest thou to me? speak to the children of Israel, and let them proceed. 16 And do thou lift up thy rod, and stretch forth thy hand over the sea, and divide it, and let the children of Israel enter into the midst of the sea on the dry land. 17 And lo! I will harden the heart of Pharao and of all the Egyptians, and they shall go in after them; and I will be glorified upon Pharao, and on all his host, and on his chariots and his horses. 18 And all the Egyptians shall know that I am the Lord, when I am glorified upon Pharao and upon his chariots and his horses.

19 And the angel of God that went before the camp of the children of Israel removed and went behind, and the pillar of the cloud also removed from before them and stood behind them. 20 And it went between the camp of the Egyptians and the camp of Israel, and stood; and there was darkness and blackness; and the night passed, and they came not near to one another during the whole night.

21 And Moses stretched forth his hand over the sea, and the Lord carried back the sea with a strong south wind all the night, and made the sea dry, and the water was divided. 22 And the children of Israel went into the midst of the sea on the dry land, and the water of it was a wall on the right hand and a wall on the left. 23 And the Egyptians pursued them and went in after them, and every horse of Pharao, and his chariots, and his horsemen, into the midst of the sea. 24 And it came to pass in the morning watch that the Lord looked forth on the camp of the Egyptians through the pillar of fire and cloud, and troubled the camp of the Egyptians, 25 and bound the axle-trees of their chariots, and caused them to go with difficulty; and the Egyptians said, Let us flee from the face of Israel, for the Lord fights for them against the Egyptians.

26 And the Lord said to Moses, Stretch forth tine hand over the sea, and let the water be turned back to its place, and let it cover the Egyptians coming both upon the chariots and the riders. 27 And Moses stretched forth his hand over the sea, and the water returned to its place toward day; and the Egyptians fled from the water, and the Lord shook off the Egyptians in the midst of the sea. 28 and the water returned and covered the chariots and the riders, and all the forces of Pharao, who entered after them into the sea: and there was not left of them even one. 29 But the children of Israel went along dry land in the midst of the sea, and the water was to them a wall on the right hand, and a wall on the left.

30 So the Lord delivered Israel in that day from the hand of the Egyptians, and Israel saw the Egyptians dead by the shore of the sea. 31 And Israel saw the mighty hand, the things which the Lord did to the Egyptians; and the people feared the Lord, and they believed God and Moses his servant. — Exodus 14 | Brenton's Septuagint Translation (BST) The English translation of The Septuagint by Sir Lancelot Charles Lee Brenton (1851) Cross References: Genesis 15:1; Exodus 4:17; Exodus 5:21; Exodus 6:9; Exodus 7:5; Exodus 13:21-22; Exodus 15:3-4; Exodus 15:9-10; Exodus 15:19; Exodus 15:25; Leviticus 10:3; Numbers 33:7; Deuteronomy 4:34; Deuteronomy 32:31; Joshua 24:6; 2 Kings 17:7; Psalm 78:14; Psalm 78:53; Isaiah 11:15-16; John 2:11; Acts 7:36; Acts 13:17; Romans 9:18; 1 Corinthians 10:1; Hebrews 11:29

Exodus 14 Chapter Summary

Key Passages in Exodus 14

1. God instructs the Israelites in their journey 5. Pharaoh pursues after them 10. The Israelites murmur 13. Moses comforts them 15. God instructs Moses 19. The cloud removes behind the camp 21. The Israelites pass through the Red sea, which drowns the Egyptians

#parting of the Red sea #Pharaoh pursues Israel #the angel of God stands between Israel and Egypt #The Lord drowns Pharaoh and his army #Exodus 14 #Book of Exodus #Old Testament #BST #Brenton's Septuagint Bible Translation

9 notes · View notes

coffeehighallthetime-blog · 1 year ago

Text

I am Kind Not Complacent Chpt 2

I am Kind not Complacent chpt 2

{prev},{next}

Heimdall gow x reader

word count: 6 k

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

hello and thank you to every single person who has liked, commented, and reblogged my silly little story. I'm so glad I can make a few people smile and share my little fic. if anyone would like me to tag them to make finding the next chapter easier in the future please don't be afraid to ask!

as always, enjoy and have fun reading!

@engardeitsme as always, love bouncing ideas off and getting to share stuff with you before I post it! thank you for helping again! @lunaryasha @nokolla I hope you enjoy Thank you so much for your support and kind words <3

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

As YN got closer to the training grounds, Her limbs got ridged and her steps were more sluggish.

“Um, Mal?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t think I can do this.” She froze in her tracks, whimpering as Mal tried to move her forward. She sighed and grabbed hold of the girl’s arm. YN leaned against her pulling, digging her heels into the mossy floor. “I-I mean I’ve only fought to get away, I don’t know anything about combat!” she looked up at Mal pleading, Her cheeks going rosy in embarrassment, “A-and I don’t know these people…” Mal huffed, looking back at Thor and Heimdall as they seemed to be waiting for YN, getting more and more annoyed the longer she took to get there.

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice really, do you? No come on, I'll introduce you. But you need to act properly. They are the Aesir princes and as someone under Asgard they now rule over you as well, you should know,” Mal tried to encourage the girl while also pressing it was important not to keep the princes waiting, “I’m sure they won’t go hard on you, dear little thing.”

“Oh? Are they nice?” YN asked, a bit hopeful. Mal looked at her as if she had grown a second head.

“Ni-? No, they’re princes. But you’re so small and sweet, so they may lose interest in you. Where did you say you were from again?”

“Vanaheim.”

“...Mmh,” Mal just hummed, now getting s bit nervous herself for the girl.

YN frowned at Mal’s lack of help. She almost felt like she was going to throw up. Meeting new people? who were mean? And she had to spare with them?

“B-but why do I have to? Why now? I-I just got here, d-don’t you think-”

“Ah ah ah, don’t you go doing that negotiating thing. I saw what you did at breakfast. Now let’s hurry on, I rather not keep the Aesir princes waiting.” YN swallowed thickly, looking down at her feet as she allowed Mal to drag her the rest of the way. They stopped at the edge of the sparing area, where the dirt had gone wet and muddy from constant trampling. Thor quickly blocked a hit from young Heimdall and looked over at Mal and the girl.

“Lord Thor, Lord Heimdall,” Mal lowered her head and put her hand on YN’s head to elicit a bow as well. “This is YN, a guest of the All-Father’s. She is to train with you today for an introduction to Aesir's fighting tactics.”

“Took you long enough, come here, I don’t have all day.” Thor didn’t even glance an eye at Mal, his focus purely on YN who gulped as he pointed to a spot at his feet. Heimdall didn’t even spare her a glance as he made his way to the opposite side of the circle across from Thor. YN felt Mal give her one more nudge as she finally moved to stand in front of the thunder god.

“I will take my leave,” Mal stated, before turning back towards the great lodge. YN tightened her fists as she watched Mal retreat. Thor crossed his arms as the girl stood in front, craning her neck up at him. She gulped and dipped into a deep bow. ‘Just introduce yourself, don’t speak too much, and maybe this won’t be so bad. Maybe they’ll go easy if I’m polite.’ YN thought she heard a scoff come from behind her at the thought. But that was impossible.

“Hello, my name is YN of Vanaheim and I am the goddess of peace. I was brought here to-” She peeked up at the sound of Thor clicking his tongue in annoyance or boredom, she wasn’t sure. She swallowed thickly, focusing on her feet, “U-um to be of assistance in some way t-to the All-Father?”

Yn gasped at a sudden large hand on her shoulder, roughly twisting her to face the blond boy on the other side of the sparing circle, and nearly tripped into the mud as she was shoved forward.

“Quickly, let’s see where you are. Heimdall, keep her face intact. We don’t want to be scolded by Father, do we?” YN could almost hear the smirk in Thor’s voice and tried not to show her fear as the boy in front of her picked up two swords, the blades dulled for training. He tossed one to the girl and she caught it before it hit the ground, surprised at the weight of it. YN was shocked as the boy seemed to disappear from in front of her and yelped as she was kicked sharply in the back, skidding in the mud but staying on her feet. She whipped around to see Heimdall starting to circle her, smirking with his lips but glaring at her intensely.

“Gods you pathetic. ‘Maybe I’ll go easy if you’re polite’? Ha!” he laughed sarcastically, before sneering and rushing YN. She moved quickly to try and block, their swords straining against each other as he leaned in, overpowering her easily.

“Wh-what are you talking about?” Her eyes widened as she processed his words. What would happen if she failed? Would she be shunned again, would she be shut out? Didn’t she want to go home? Why did the thought of isolation suddenly scare her so much?

She thought of how to get out of the stalemate, wanting to parry and jump back to put some distance so she could have more options. But as she moved to do so, Hiemdall was quick to twist her around and shove her back from him. While she stumbled, her back turned, he moved quickly again, grabbing her by a fistful of hair and kneeing her hard in the ribs.

“And thinking we could ever get along? That you’ll ever belong here? Don’t make me laugh. Crawl on your belly like a dog and maybe I’ll tell the All-Father to send you back to your hovel in one piece, Vanir scum.” there was venom in his voice. Even at this young age, godly strength knocked the air out of her and she sputtered, coughing up drops of blood onto his once pristine tunic. He scoffed in disgust and pushed her back. Her mind raced as her vision blurred. She dissected the situation, his movements, reaction time, and words. She caught her breath, feeling him approach again behind her, and whipped around, knocking him in the brow with the hilt of her sword. Heimdall stumbled back in a daze and stared at the girl in disbelief. He wasn’t planning on retaliation, so he had stopped reading her movements.

He watched her as she panted, her face contouring into a snarl as she squared her shoulders and changed her stance from submissive to feral; like a beast trying to get away from a hunter. Desperate, scared, angry.

“That’s a dirty trick,” she growled out, straightening to stare into his eyes, “you have some nerve crawling into spaces you’re not welcome.” he was caught off guard by the statement, shocked that she had found him out so quickly. Thor meanwhile just rolled his eyes on the sidelines, thinking his brother was a fool for talking too much and revealing his hand so easily. Heimdall flushed in embarrassment as he heard Thor’s thoughts prodding into his head and growled, lunging in frustration. YN was able to narrowly dodge and the two circled each other.

“You catch on fast,” Heimdall offered with a sneer.

“You talk too much,” YN bit back, guarding her body just in time as Heimdall attacked again.

Thor noticed the following pattern:

Heimdall would always attack first, getting a few good hits in. he moved fast, and precise; then got cocky and didn’t remember to put space between him and his opponent. He had a bad habit at his young age of underestimating enemies and didn’t use his foresight as fluidly as he should be,(or so Odin thought, and told Thor to push him harder.)

YN was the opposite. She seemed to almost run away, backing away and refusing to keep her eyes off her opponent for as long as possible, and constantly whipping around to try and keep up. She would try to defend herself, taking a slash to the arm, or leg while protecting her core, and when Heimdall got careless she would go in to retaliate. Her movements were hard-hitting and violent, going for jabs hard enough to push Heimdall across the field or knock the air out of his lungs. That said, she was precise in her own way. Thor also noticed that as Heimdall seemed not to care where he hit the girl, aiming for arteries, joints, and soft spots; she only aimed for places that would discombobulate him, throw him off balance, and put space between them. Thor stroked his beard in thought, calling out to Heimdall.

“You need to use your powers, Heimdall,” He scolded, “you underestimate too much, and you need to do so quickly, process the information, and act accordingly.”

“Underestimate?” Heimdall scoffed and dropped his stance to stifle a sarcastic laugh. YN stiffened at the mockery and growled.

“Well, what kind of god who can read minds lets his opponent land hits on him?” She barked, blocking another attack and ducking to elbow him in the side. Heimdall was quick to pary and kicked against the length of her sword, knocking her off balance.

“Maybe you just think yourself too highly. What is a goddess of peace supposed to be able to do in a real fight? You haven’t attacked me once! Goddess of pushovers more like!” He cackled, nearly doubling over. YN dropped her stance, her cheeks searing red in anger and embarrassment.

“Try goddess of logic and tactic, you oaf!” Her heart pounded in her ears as her anger started to rise. She wanted to stand up for herself. She wanted to reason with him. She wanted to rip his tongue out from his teeth and-

“Ooh! Such snark! Not very peaceful of you, Queen Kindness ~”

“I’m warning you!” ‘Be calm. Be calm. Be calm. Don’t let your anger get the best of you. It will only end badly. Just breath.’

“Oh or what? You’ll sign a peace treaty? Bake me a cake? Cry and beg for forgiveness?” Heimdall was almost out of breath from laughter, and YN saw red. Suddenly time stood still as Heimdall’s laughter was cut off by a mound of mud flying into his face. YN watched satisfied as the dirt dripped down his chin and smeared down the front of his tunic.

Thor snorted and threw his head in laughter as he watched Heimdall swipe his hand down his face, his fiery pink eyes searing holes into the girl's face.

“I told you to shut up!” she shouted, She reeled her hand back with another pile of mud. Heimdall dodged, running at her full force and grabbing her face, slamming her down into the mud.

“You repulsive little worm.” he snarled, watching her sink into the ground under his weight. With her face still covered under his palm, she blindly grabbed another fistful and slammed it into the side of his head, knocking him off of her and deafening him in one ear momentarily. Thor was wheezing, doubled over the fence. YN stood slowly, the weight of water and dirt seeped into her clothes and hair dragging her down. She looked down at her grimy hands and shook them once, spraying mud and hitting Heimdall with droplets of muck.

“I don’t bake cake” she stated, smearing mud off her face nonchalantly. “But you’ll find I’m quite good at mud pies,” She smirked as Heimdall shook his head, regaining his senses. The next three minutes were full of pure chaos.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆☾⋆⭒˚｡⋆

“ Sire, are you certain that Lord Thor and Lord Heimdall were the best suited for the job of testing the girl’s abilities?” A man with curved horns spoke, walking a foot behind Odin at all times.

“Of course. Heimdall and her are nearly the same age, so it’s a fair fight wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes sir, but Heimdall is young and doesn’t know how to hold back at times. That with his fighting prowess and Thor’s…buffoonery, may cause a bit of disastrous cocktail.” Odin laughed at Mimir’s statement, holding his belly.

“I always appreciate your bluntness, dear friend!” Odin regains his composure with a sigh, still smiling slightly. “That may be true, but I need Heimdall to read the girl’s mind. And because he is progressing so slowly, he still needs to be close and be able to concentrate, making the whole ordeal less than ideal. And Thor? He’s just grounded and I knew he would hate the job of babysitting.” Mimir frowned at this, not sure why Odin was so carefree about having his two most hot-headed sons be with their new guest. “ I fear Tyr or Baldur would go far too easy on the poor creature. I need results quickly to see where she stands. I just hope they haven’t beaten her too badly.”

⋆⭒˚｡⋆☾⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Mud flew in every direction, both from wads being thrown at each other, or residual splatter from tackling each other into the ground and wrestling each other like feral little goblins.

“Ugh!! You are such a little weasel!” YN screamed as Heimdall managed to slip behind her, shoving mud down the back of her shirt, but not before she flipped around and tackled him to the ground, shaking his shoulders violently and slamming him into the mud. He growled, his eyes glowing as he flipped her over, pinning her to the ground under his hips and yanking her hair, smearing it with dirt.

“Oh yeah!? Well, you’re nothing but a squawking raven!”

YN reached up, yanking at Hiemdall’s mud-caked hair, pulling so they flipped and rolled across the floor. Heimdall elbowed her in the eye. She yelped and punched him in the nose, pinning him to the ground, and closed the gap between them. Her hands found home around his throat and she didn’t feel herself squeeze, tighter, tighter, tighter. Heimdall gasped for air, kneeing her in her already bruised ribs. She screamed out in pain, her grip loosening and Heimdall threw her off, making her skid into the mud, curling up in pain as her side throbbed.

“Hey, alright, that’s enough,” Thor called, getting closer to the two, still chuckling at the state of his brother. Heimdall heaved, grabbing a sword that lay forgotten in the mud.

“Heimdall, come on, put the sword down,” Thor spoke firmly this time, reaching to grab the sword, Heimdall yanked free of his hold and trudged over, raising the sword above his head to swing down, YN nursed her side and prepared to dodge and tackle him again.

“Heimdall!”

“ What is the meaning of this!?” A voice boomed, making the children both freeze. YN watched as Heimdall’s eyes widened in horror, dropping the sword and stepping away from her immediately, getting down on one knee in the mud and bowing his head, eyes screwed to the ground. Thor followed, not even the hint of a smile on his face anymore. YN finally looked up, seeing Odin approaching with a scowl on his face, followed by a man with curved horns atop his head, his eyes shining with what looked like opals.

Odin turned immediately to Thor, his arms crossed and his foot tapping as he waited impatiently for an answer. Thor straightened, deciding to look at the children instead of his father.

“They were just sparing, All-Father. Nothing but some roughhousing.”

“Roughhousing?” Mimir drawled out as he walked closer to YN. “They’re covered head to toe in filth. And this one’s eye is swollen shut!” He grabbed YN's face to get a good look at the bruising. He tutted and walked over to Heimdall, looking him over as well. Heimdall winced as the man checked his nose. “Oh lovely,” he spoke sarcastically, looking back at Thor and Odin. “his nose is broken!”

Odin sighed, bordering on a groan as he pinched the bridge of his nose. YN couldn’t explain it but despite what only looked like mild frustration, there seemed to be electricity in the air. She was not blind to the way Heimdall seemed to cower under his father’s gaze, and Thor seemed so small all of a sudden in the All-Father’s presence. The way everyone reacted to him unnerved YN and she hated the feeling of tension closing in on everyone.

“Boys, I told you to train her, not maim her. Mimir helps her up, will you?”

Mimir gently grabbed her arm, helping her to stand, and walked her over to Odin’s side.

“ S-sir it was my fault. I-I’m no good at fighting! I fought desperately and my temper got the better of me, I’m deeply truly sorry.” She tried to reason. Heimdall peaked up at her, confused as to why she would bother to take the blame. She didn’t know him or his brother. Didn’t she know what would happen if she spoke out of turn? Heimdall couldn’t help the pang of jealousy he felt at the way his father acted towards the girl. How his voice softened. Was she manipulating him? Heimdall tried reading her mind but he was still dazed from the scuffle the two had had.

Odin cut off the girl’s apologies by holding his hand up, shushing her silently.

“ I won’t hear it. You are a guest and in a strange new land. You were taken from your home and told to fight without any time to understand what was going on. I simply wasn’t thinking. And for that, I am sorry. I was supposed to come here to introduce you and watch you spar, not fight! But I thought to myself, ‘Surely my sons will do well in some friendly competition. I mustn’t worry so much!’ Isn’t that what I said, Mimir?”

“Yes, sir.” Mimir nodded, but YN felt his hand tense against her shoulder. Odin nodded and scowled at Heimdall and Thor, shaking his head with a sigh.

“But I suppose I was wrong to trust them with such a simple task.” YN was caught off guard as she felt Odin’s hand rest on her head.

“Are you alright, child?” YN looked up at him and nodded meekly. He smiled and pushed the girl over towards the two still bowing in the dirt. “Get up.” They stood quickly. Thor looked his father in the eyes, while Heimdall struggled to do the same, his hands squeezed tight at his sides. Odin nudged the girl forward. “I’d like all three of you to apologize to each other.”

At this, the girl immediately bowed, apologizing for letting things get out of hand. Now that her anger had subsided all she felt was anxiety at the tension in the air. YN wanted nothing more than to apologize and hopefully get along with everyone. She turned to Thor and looked up with big round eyes.

“ I apologize, Lord Thor, for not paying better attention to your encouragement and advice, and instead letting my nerves take over. Thank you for taking the time out of your day to teach me.” Thor let out a harumph, looking away. But then sighed and lowered his head in a passive bow.

“Yeah… sorry I didn’t keep a better eye on you both.” Odin scoffed, not satisfied but knowing that was the best he’d get out of Thor. He looked down at Heimdall expectantly, who just seemed to be frozen in place. Yn stuck out her hand as a peace offering.

“I’m deeply sorry, Lord Heimdall. I hope I didn’t hurt you too badly.” Heimdall tsked at the statement and didn’t move. YN looked him in the eyes and he heard her thoughts.

‘I know you can hear me. Shake my hand, and play along. Unless you want to get in more trouble.’ He clicked his tongue in annoyance but with the nudge of her thought and the searing eyes of his father, he grabbed her hand and shook it.

“No my…lady…” he strained with a smile, his brow twitching “The fault is mine for thinking you could withstand a fight with me. I must remember that you are a woman, and therefore, weak and delicate. Like a baby bird,” She smiled back, squeezing his hand so tight that the tip of her fingers turned white.

‘I’ll show you delicate, you little weasel.’She thought, her brow twitching as she pried her hands away and noticed him flex his hand subtly at his side to subside the aching of her anaconda squeeze.

“There, see? All better now! Mimir, take our guest to the infirmary will you?” Mimir nodded, guiding YN away. When they were out of earshot, Odin’s smile disappeared and he looked at his sons expectantly.

“What have you learned?”

“She is reactive in her fighting.” Thor started his report, “ only attacking after her opponent makes a move. Otherwise, she’s a bit of a chicken shit. Kept running away from Heimdall until the only choice was to fight back.”

“Hn…” Odin looked down at the younger boy. “So she was trying to run away and you still ended up like this? Honestly, Heimdall.”

“B-but father-“

“ I don’t want to hear it.” Heimdall shut his mouth stiffly. Odin repeated his original question, directing all his attention to Heimdall. The boy swallowed thickly and remembered her thoughts and the way they rushed one after the other.

“She…she’s a goddess, and she’s from Vanaheim. She wanted to avoid fighting me, kept trying to find a way to introduce herself, and thought being polite would stop me from hurting her. She kept trying to calm herself down, so I provoked her to see where she would go from there. She’s hotheaded and immature. I don’t think she can be trusted. You should just send her back.” Heimdall fidgeted as he spoke and Odin lost his patience, grabbing the boy’s chin roughly to look up at him.

“Unfortunately that’s not in the cards just yet, son. She’s a child, and a goddess, therefore powerful and unpredictable. We need to keep an eye on how she grows and see if we can use her for the betterment of Asgard before one of our enemies finds her and uses her against us. You understand, don’t you?” Odin squeezed Heimdall’s chin as he posed the question. Heimdall whimpered slightly at the pain of Odin’s bony fingers digging into his skin and just barely was able to nod. Odin abruptly released his son, smiling brightly. “Good. So then, anything that we can use to get her to trust us? Get her to work with us?” Heimdall nodded again, reaching up to rub his sore chin.

“She’s very lonely and pathetic…, which you can use to gain her trust, All-Father. She seems passive in her solutions but she is also quick to anger and frustration so it would be important to keep that in mind during any negotiations…”

Odin looked down at his son, taking in the information. He hummed in satisfaction and nodded.

“ alright. Good. I can work with that.” With that, Odin turned to walk away, paused, and spared Heimdall a glance over his shoulder. “Clean yourself up. You’re filthy.”

⋆⭒˚｡⋆☾⋆⭒˚｡⋆

“What’s his problem, anyway? Is everyone in Asgard as… volatile?” YN asked as Mimir prepared an ice pack for her. He snorted and shook his head.

“Heimdall is a special cocktail of issues, lass. Best to keep away from him. He’s a spoiled little prince, and I’m afraid the way he’s going it will only get worse.” He walked over to her with a white cloth. He dipped it in a bowl of warm water, rang it out, and pressed it to the girl’s swollen eye. She hissed, pulling away slightly, but Mimir kept her head gently in place, blotting the wound. “Stay still, I know it stings but I need to get all the dirt and blood off.” YN stayed tense but allowed Mimir to clean the wound. There was silence in the room, save for the slow trickle of water from the towel being run out every once in a while. YN interrupted the quiet.

“Are you allowed to say that about the princes?” She asked meekly, looking up at Mimir with her good eye. He raised a brow, dipping the cloth in the water again and going back to cleaning.

“Are you going to rat me out?” He posed, grabbing the ice he had prepared and holding it up to her face. YN shook her head slightly and smiled as Mimir simply shrugged, “Then I have nothing to worry about. Besides, my loyalties lie with the All-Father, not his band of brats. Like I said, best to just keep away.” YN thought for a moment and shook her head, holding the ice to her face as Mimir walked away to grab some medicine for the cuts on her face.

“That doesn’t seem right. Why should they be able to do whatever they want at the expense of others? Because they’re royalty? They should be held to even higher standards considering the power they have.”

“What we think is right and what will end up happening are two different things. Best to forget the whole thing to save yourself the disappointment.”

“And who taught you that? Was it the All-Father?” Mimir stilled, seeming to be in deep thought. YN pouted, guilty at the tension she had caused.“ I-I’m sorry.” Mimir shook his head, a smile returning to his face.

“It’s alright. It’s just… you’re quite forward for a young goddess in a new place.” YN frowned at that. She wasn’t really sure how she was supposed to be acting. She had spent so long working off instinct, that it may have made her a bit blunt in her words and actions. Mimir let the silence hang as she fidgeted with her ice pack before deciding to elaborate.

“… I’m not from here… Asgard, I mean. Hel, I’m not even from the 9 realms.” He looked back at YN and chuckled as she straightened her posture, her interest peaked. “ I’m a Fae, a Goodfellow. I used to be a fool to a Celtic faerie king.” He got a faraway look in his eye, as he slowed the grinding of herbs. She swung her feet as she waited for him to continue, tilting her head in curiosity. “What’s a Fae? What’s Celtic?” Mimir snorted at this, shaking his head.

“That’s too long a story. The point is that I’m an outsider, like you. And I wasn’t happy where I was so I left… things may seem rough here, but they are better than they were. That’s what I hold onto. This is all new to you, and new is strange. The All-Father told me a bit about your background. Going from complete isolation to being surrounded by people and sparing lessons is a lot, and I apologize for your rushed introduction to Asgard thus far.”

Yn nodded, thinking about her own home. There was nothing for her there, really. And though Heimdall and Thor were less than pleasant and Odin had not yet shown he could be fully trusted, there were already things YN felt would be hard to let go of. The food she was able to eat here, the feeling of a warm bed and a crackling fire, the sound of people moving to and fro in the morning. The sound of people living around her, unbothered.

“ Odin called you Mimir…that means wise one doesn’t it?”

“ yes. I am Mimir, the smartest man alive.” He said proudly. He saw as the girl raised her brow in confusion and chuckled, “I am the ambassador of the gods and the nine realms, I know every corner of the realms, everything that has happened, every language spoken, every moment in time past now.” YN’s eyes widened in awe, to meet someone who claimed to know so much of the world after she had been isolated from it for so long, it made her mind soar. YN pulled the ice from her eye and balled her hands together in anxious excitement.

“ Would you… Would you be able to teach me? Please?!” She pleaded, nearly shaking with excitement. Mimir pretended to think about it, stroking his beard.

“ Oh? I dunno, it’s a lot of information I’d be throwing at you. Could be a bit boring.”

“Yes, that’s what I want! I want to learn about the realms, I want to help build connections, That’s what Odin said I’d be able to do here! Will you please teach me, Mimir?”

The truth was, he was tasked with keeping an eye on the girl and taking her under his wing. Odin wanted him to teach her about the relations of Asgard to the rest of the realms and see if she could aid in Mimir and Tyr’s growth of Agard’s connections. He looked back down at the girl, guilt buried at the back of his mind. She was only here to be used. But then, weren’t they all in some way?

“I suppose I could use an apprentice. But don’t whine when you feel you're being thrown over the deep end.”

“Yes!” she cheered, hopping off the table. She bowed deeply, before looking back up at the man with a hopeful smile. “Thank you, Mr. Mimir. I hope that your teachings allow me to be more useful, so that I may continue to stay here. Maybe my first day was hard, but I’m sure I can find my place here.” She beamed, the pain of her wounds already subsiding thanks to godlike healing and the creams that had been applied. She runs to the exit, hoping to find Mal. She wanted to tell her about her fight with Heimdall and tease her for being too scared to stay and watch.

“Oi, wait, your eye! I need to put this on it!”

“I’ll be fine! I have to go! Thank you again, Mimir!” she gathered her things, a new skip in her step.

“Ah ah ah, at least take it with you.” He grabbed her by the shoulder, handing her a metal tin with the cream he had made with the crushed herbs and some bandages. “The great hall! Tomorrow at 6 am. Do not be late!” he barely got it out before she left, the heavy door slamming behind her.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆☾⋆⭒˚｡⋆

The sun had set in Asgard and YN was on her way back to her room from supper with Mal, who had apologized for leaving in a hurry and gave her an extra serving of potatoes as a sorry.

YN yawned with a stretch. The swelling in her eye had gone down, but the bruising was now a deep yellow and purple. Mimir had also found out she had two broken ribs, but with the ointment and bandages he had applied, the girl felt fine and knew they would be fine by morning.

YN was about to retire for the night, walking to her door, when she heard a loud hiss come from across the hall. She quirked a brow at the sound and turned. Dim candlelight flickered from under the door and YN walked over at the subtle sound of a pained groan.

“Hello? Are you ok in there?” She asked with a knock. There was silence for a beat, and she knocked again, “Hello?” The person on the other side clicked their tongue in annoyance and YN could hear the loud screech of a chair dragging across the wooden floor. The door swung open and YN was met face-to-face with Heimdall, scowling with a blood-stained handkerchief over his nose. She tilted her head in confusion.

“What the Hel do you want?” he grumbled, but his voice was slightly nasily because of his broken nose. YN had started to regret ever knocking but quirked a brow and pointed at his handkerchief.

“You’re still bleeding.”

“No! Really?” Heimdall gasped in fain surprise.

“ I didn’t know we lived across the hall from each other.” She spoke again, ignoring his rudeness. Heimdall rolled his eyes and went to slam the door in her face.

“Seriously, just get out.” She held her hand up to stop the door from fully closing. “What the- hey! I said, "Get out!”

“Why didn’t you go to the infirmary?”

“Tsk! Are you serious? I’m not a baby, I don’t need bandages and a cookie for staying still.” YN just rolled her good eye at the statement, pushing further against the door. “Hey!”

“You know we heal too fast for you to leave that alone. Your cartilage is going to grow back crooked.” Heimdall’s eyes widened at that, but he frowned as he looked away.

“That’s not true. You're lying.”

“Why would I lie about your nose growing back crooked?” YN watched him fidget in place. It didn’t take a genius to know that he cared about his vanity. The bright white shirts with gold trim and intricate braids in his hair when she first saw him were enough of a hint. And despite everything, she still wanted to make peace, if not to become friends then to at least have to worry less about being tackled at a moment's notice. Heimdall groaned in defeat, knowing she was right.

“ Alright, fine then. What do you suggest I do, pestering raven?” YN sighed at yet another insulting name and crossed her arms.

“ May I come in?” She asked, annoyance obvious in her voice. Heimdall frowned but opened his door wider. Yn walked in and noticed the room was nearly the same as hers, save for a vanity in the corner of the room with the chair pushed back. She grabbed the back of it, dragged it over to the bed, and sat down, turning to Heimdall and patting the spot on the bed across from her. He shut the door and trudged over, sitting across so that their knees touched.

“Can you move the handkerchief?” Heimdall hesitated but slowly did so, his face showing discomfort as he removed pressure. His nose had in fact already started to bend slightly and YN couldn’t help the concerned hiss she let out. “ I really am sorry…”

“ Whatever. Just fix it.” His bright eyes glared through her.

“ I’ll have to break it again.”

“Like hel you will!”

“OK, if you don’t mind a deep bend at your bridge.”

“… fine.”

“What was that?”

“ I said fine already!”

She just nodded with a smirk, touching at the soft cartilage, and pressing it into place. Heimdall winced and tensed at each prod, his hands squeezed tight on his thighs.

“If you keep scrunching your face, this won’t work.”

“Well, it hurts! You're doing it on purpose.”

“ I am not. Do you want a towel to bite down on?”

“ Shut up- ow! Hey!”

“OK, take a deep breath, This one is gonna be the worst but it should open up both nostrils so you can breathe better.”

“H-how do you even know what you're doing is right?”

“ I’ve been alone for a long time. I’ve always had to heal myself. And I’ve fallen on my face many times, my nose looks pretty good if I do say so myself.” She smirked slightly at him as he only gulped. YN grabbed the bridge of his nose and when he braced himself, she twisted her hand sharply, effectively knocking a piece of cartilage that had grown crooked out of place. Heimdall screamed as blood rushed out his nose. He brought the handkerchief back up to his face.

“Are you crazy?!”

“If I didn’t do that, your nose would have looked like a tree branch. Keep pressure on that for a moment.”She pulled the small tin from her pocket. “Look, Mimir gave me this to apply to my eye and ribs before going to bed. It will help with the pain.” She grabbed some bandages that were tucked in her pocket and ripped them into two strips, rolled them up into tight coils, and dipped the ends into the concoction. “Take that off, please. The bleeding should have stopped, and this will stop the soreness.” YN had started to think the boy’s brows were permanently knitted together in annoyance by this point as he moved the kerchief from his face. YN quickly pushed the wads of bandage up his nose to keep the cartilage from collapsing and to promote healing in the correct direction. That being said, he looked ridiculous and she couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of her mouth. His face went red and he pushed her chair away from him with his boot.

“ Alright, you’re done, right? Get out.” he hopped off the bed, pushing her towards the door.

“W-wait a minute, do you think we could-” she gasped as she was shoved out the door, but twisted and jammed her foot before it could slam. Heimdall let out an exaggerated growl, throwing his head back.

“Gods- now what do you want?” she swallowed thickly and offered a small bow.

“My name is YN, goddess of logic, tactic and peace. I will be staying across the hall from you. I hope we can learn to get along.” She stood back straight and smiled nervously. Heimdall pulled together a sickly sweet grin.

“I am Heimdall, god of foresight, and my time is too precious to be wasted on you. Good night.” And with that, he swung the door wide open before slamming it in the girl's face. YN winced and then sighed in defeat, fidgeting with her hands.

“Good night…” she called softly back through the door. At no response, she turned toward her room to retire for the night. Maybe the next day would be better.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

#heimdall gow #gow odin #gow x you #heimdall x reader #fiction #gow Heimdall #gow thor #gow x reader #god of war x reader #fem! reader #heimdall x you #mute!reader #child! reader #child! heimdall #I am kind not complacent #dance with me like the sun and moon #@engardeitsme #@coffeehighallthetime-blog

61 notes · View notes

jasminegazer · 5 months ago

Text

Chapter 8 Part 1

This would have been a perfect night.

Higher temperature with a cool breeze just light enough to be almost nonexistent. Jumbotrons from Time Square lighting the horizon as the usual chorus of the city blared.

This would have been one of those nights before the big battle that they would dream about. Where it would perfect to sit atop the rooftops and have a peaceful freedom filled night. Just 4 brothers and an amazing night.

“Dee you good?”

Raph’s call broke Donnie from his thoughts. Right. Find your brother then daydream.

“Yeah coming.”

Swiftly swinging to the Leo and Raph, Donnie remembered to put his thoughts together. Making a wall between emotions and the needed actions. Preventing one side from interfering with the other nice and orderly. Manageable. Controllable.

Oh who was he kidding? Nothing was in his control right now. It did anything but remain in control last night. And in every moment since then.

Focus

No need to have more worried faces resurface unless absolutely necessary.

Despite the conditions, an uneasy awkwardness had settled on the rooftop. Leo twitched his leg nervously(a bad stimming habit of his) as he looked down to the docks. Raph was completely silent, which brought both relief and concern to Donnie, as he watched his twin.

Donnie proceeded to move behind them, both an attempt to look at the docks below and push his lingering anxieties of strangers reappearing to attack to the side. The dock seemed to be clear. Nothing looked out of the ordinary or suggestive to their missing brother. What if this was just an empty lead? What if they were wasting another night looking in the wrong places?

He heard Leo bring up that TCRI may be involved. What if Mikey was already wherever they had retreated to?

…

What if he was hooked up to the machine?

Out of all of them, out of any of them, Mikey got the biggest dose of torment. So much so that he had to live off an IV for 48 hours and even then was insisted on staying at the hospital an extra night. When the adrenaline wore off he straight up passed out without so much as a weak call for Donnie. Thank God for the kindness that humans show to celebrities like they’d become.

After that night was the first time Mikey ever had sensory issues that hurt him. Before it was just the usual ‘this feels kinda weird’ or ‘I’m absolutely obsessed with this slime. Just feel it.’. He and Leo were the ones with that burden. Overstimulation and hypersensitivity were their crosses to carry. For three weeks anything that merely brushed up against the holes in Mikey’s shell caused him to completely breakdown. Yelps and inconsolable cries of pain that rang out.

Donnie knew how much Mikey loved to be comforted through his shell. And now he was barely capable of letting someone hug him. A Hug. And this is his brother Micheal-fricking-Angelo we’re talking about.

…

If all of that stress and pain could come from something that couldn’t have gone on for more than 3 hours of torture with his family to guide him through it, then what would more than 24 hours alone and tortured do?

He wouldn’t let that happen. Over his cold dead body. Donnie couldn’t let that happen.

“Hey! Hey Leo. Earth to Leo!” Leo turned to face them, his Batman face was on. But it didn’t take a genius to understand now was not the time for teasing. It didn’t have the usual goofy look anyway, just one of anxiety and nerves at their breaking point. “Sorry it’s just…confusing.”

“What is there to be confused about? There’s nothing there.” At least was being his usual self minus the heavy bags under his eyes.

Damn why did they take their surprise day off from school for granted. Donnies limbs felt like stale jello, dried out, stiff, and good for absolutely nothing.

But as angry as Don was with his oldest brother, he had a point. The news had made a pretty big deal about this attack. With dramatized descriptions of blood and gore at the scene of the crime. So where were the people. The only thing you could tell from the dock was that these “attackers” were pretty experienced. Like serial killer level of experience. No blood stains. No foot prints. No possible weapons. Nothing. Not even a sign that this wasn’t just a normal night at the docks.

That being said something felt wrong. What exactly Don had no idea but maybe-

Something reflected off of his glasses. Like a fork… or a metal blade.

His brothers must have seen it too because now they were all in fighting stance. Someone was here. And something told him that they weren’t here to chat.

Donnie twisted his bo staff nervously in his hands. Waiting for the attack to come. He and his brothers had been taught how to fight since they were 4. The first lesson in war is never let your enemy know your moves.

For few minutes nothing happened. Dread started to fade from the atmosphere. Don started to lower his weapon to let out a sigh of relief. Worst mistake of his life.

The guy came out of nowhere and kicked firmly in the abdomen. Away from his brothers. Away from his safety.

“Dee!”

Raph started to run over before being firmly knocked to the ground by another stranger. They both wore dark clothes and oni masks. Their masks covered their whole face with glowing markings and eyes that sheened against the dark night.

Leo barely caught the blades of a third stranger with his katana.

But right now Don had other things to worry about as his attacker pounced on top off him. Somehow he managed to use his bo to block them. Woah they’re strong. His muscles strained under the weight as he pushed back against them. Aaaaannd his glasses were slipping too. GREAT!

Somehow he managed to catch a glimpse of Leo’s attacker. She(Don didn’t usually assume gender but she looked like a she) had a similar color palette to her colleagues. Her initial mask only covered half of her face leaving her amber eyes exposed. Her dark hair highlighted with white was held up in a ponytail with two long pieces hanging down from behind her ears.

AH! RIGHT! RIGHT! STILL FIGHTING!

Donnie was starting to loose his grip and his patience. Using all his strength he gripped his bo and swung it and his attacker to the ground. Hopefully that will keep this bastard down for a while.

Turning to face his brothers, he saw that Leo was still locked in a one on one with Amber eyes. Raph had managed to get back up and start wrestling with his attackers. He started to head over to help his brother in red, their eyes meet for one moment before-“Donnie! Watch out !”

Leo came plunging into his plastron sending them both to the ground. Where he JUST GOT UP! Not again!

Raph was there when Don readjusted his glasses(his CRACKED glasses). Suddenly more attackers showed up looking almost identical to Don’s and Raph’s. Amber eyes stuck out like a sore thumb. Or at least she would have if she didn’t look so intertwined with the others.

Raph helped Don get to his feet quickly right before the fighting started again. It went on for a while like the fights they had when looking for Superfly but with much more skill and obvious challenge.

These guys kept coming one after the other. But the tensions started to die down. They were becoming easier and easier to knock back. Almost like-

like they were stalling.

Donnie looked up to find his brothers but only saw Raph. “RAPH! Where’s-”

Leo cried out before he could finish.

They both turned their heads to see him locked in between two of their attackers. They’d plunged the same device in the same spot as last night into Leo. Donnie’s breath hitched. No no no no no NO

“LEO!” Raph started rushing over to his twin bashing in the heads of anyone blocking his path. Donnie followed his lead as he watched Leo loose consciousness, eyelids slowly sliding closed.

His big brother was looking right at him. Silently pleading for help like Donnie had done to him countless times. His whole life he had looked up to Leo for help. And every time his brother came through. But for once in his life he couldn’t do the same for him.

Someone threw a smoke bomb where Leo was standing and just like that he was gone. Donnie’s big brother was gone. He lost two brothers within 24 hours. “NOOOO!”

They weren’t dead yet. There was still a chance to fix this.

Without a single clear thought in his mind, violent thrashes escaped from him. He could only keep pushing forward. He needed to get to his eldest brother. He COULDNT lose him too.

A yell tore through the air and Raphs throat. He was knocked onto his stomach curled over and jolting at every movement that affected his shell.

He’d been hurt by the machine too. Even if it was only for like 5 minutes it still affected Donnie’s brother in red. Unlike Mikey, Raph barely managed to try and cover it up for almost 2 weeks. They knew he was sensitive about feeling vulnerable but this was why he needed to tell people. So he could have someone to-literally-watch his back.

“RA-ack.” Someone hit Donnie on the back of the head right down infront of his only remaining brother. He was on his hands and knees. His head was swimming like a drunken man. During the whole car chase with Superfly, when they were driven off the highway, he landed on his head. This gave him some of the worst amount of pain a person like him could experience- a concussion. Of course he still wasn’t used to normal blows after a whole ass month of healing.

Shock filled his body and suddenly-

He couldn’t breath.

Panic and fear and memories swirling through his pounding head was making him lose control. He COULDNT not be in control. He needed control so he could fix this. Fix problems. Fix wounds. Fix himself. Fix fricking EVERYTHING.

Donnie crawled quickly to Raph ignoring the few remaining attackers leaving. His throat was burning. Through the blurs and cracks in his vision he shook Raph hurriedly. A loud yell echoed in his broken mind.

Donnie heard the horrifying shing of a blade being unsheathed. He turned to see Amber Eyes stand above him and Raph with her weapon raised to her waist.

Donnie cowered next Raph like a little kid. Like when he was a little kid and used to fear the dark and the same brother told him to man up. Like when TCRI was in the process of abducting them and he had already watched them knock out his other brothers.

Raph held a hand on his shoulder and Donnie curled over to it was the blade was raised to her head.

He clung to Raph’s hand as he waited for the blade

🎶Oops! I did it again!🎶

Yeah but no I’m serious. Oops sorry for the long wait (again) but man I have not been motivated to write this at all until like June apparently. Hope y’all like the cliffhanger. Cowabunga turtle fanz!

Previous Masterpost Next

#tmnt mutant mayhem #difference between the appearance #mutant mayhem fanfic

10 notes · View notes

zet-sway · 11 months ago

Text

Or, Thane and Steve rebuild their lives in the chaos after the war.

[Read on AO3] - Rated E for EXTREMELY SPICY TIMES

Pairing: Thane/Cortez | Rating: 18+ | Words: ~3600

Made for @messydiabolical!!! Merry Christmas!!

Peace, while difficult in its own way, promised them a beautiful future. The memories would be enough until then.

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

The days after the war passed in a dreamlike trance.

No sooner had they released Steve from the field hospital, he was back to work - despite Thane's protests. Even Thane couldn't deny that ‘light duty' meant very little to either of them when so much needed doing. Today’s task was setting up more temporary shelters.

“You should rest,” he said softly to the man leaning against him, breathing heavily after staking a tent with his one good arm. The other hung in a sling made of little more than torn fabric. “Your arm will trouble you further if you continue to strain it.”

“I'm not letting these guys sleep in the rain because of a bad arm.” Steve's smile, although tired, brought him some measure of comfort.

After the reapers had fallen, one thing was clear: things could not be as they were. Not for a long time; perhaps not even in his lifetime. Surrounded by humans and a smattering of other species, Thane hadn't felt this alien in a long time. Illium, despite its myriad travelers and their questioning eyes, had felt more like home than Earth. There were humans here who had never even heard of drell before, much less seen one. Visiting travelers and refugees regarded him with blatant, uncomfortable stares.

But stranded though he may be, Steve Cortez was still by his side; the man who had brought color back to his life after ten long years.

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

News of his son reached him early. Kolyat had helped organize an emergency evacuation from the Citadel, together with his partner Feron, and the pair were busy attempting everything they could to restore communications with the Shadow Broker and the wayward Normandy. Steve's arm healed before long, and Shepard, although grievously injured, was expected to make a full recovery.

The Alliance swiftly inducted any alien volunteers into their ranks. The designation was as official as a verbal agreement could be, but it allowed him a sense of belonging amid London's decimated infrastructure. So much of their life was focused on the necessities of survival. ‘Home’ became little more than whatever ground they could find to sleep on.

In the early days, it had been a creaky chair beside Steve's hospital bed, and then a cot in an Alliance field tent. One night it would be a threadbare bedroll, and another it would be a dusty floor beneath a creaky roof. But as he had for years, Thane began each morning with prayer and meditation. Precious minutes were spared to thank the gods - to beseech and implore his patrons to protect, nourish, and calm the minds of himself and his beloved, his son, and all of the unusual but remarkable people who now surrounded him. In this way, he slowly found peace.

Steve sat before him amid the many other Alliance soldiers sharing their current encampment, hands warm on his palms. Together, they spoke their morning ritual on hushed breaths, finding space to shut out the noise of tens of soldiers beginning the day's work.

“May Arashu protect and hold my beloved in the days to come, and may Kalahira watch over the lovers who have gone where we can not yet follow.”

Thane stood in silence, helping Steve to his feet in turn. They held one another for a brief moment - long enough for Thane to breathe a single word against his partner’s cheek.

“Melithas.”

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

Many had asked him to define the word, but Steve was the only person to whom he had granted such a meaning.

“A shooting star,” he said one autumn evening, tracing his fingertips through Steve's hair, now grown out just slightly longer, as more important things needed doing. “A brilliant streak across the night’s darkness, fast and fleeting. My mother used to say that such stars choose who may witness them.”

“That’s beautiful. Anyone ever tell you you’re a hopeless romantic?”

Despite his words, the smile that lit Steve's eyes may as well have had the power to cure the afflictions of every person in their barracks.

“Only for you,” Thane whispered, kissing his palm. He allowed him to touch the sensitive ruby frills on his cheek, a desirous sound leaving him. “It suits you. You belong to the sky.”

“Now you're just buttering me up. Keep going like that and I'll follow you forever.”

“I think it may be too late,” he chuckled. “It's certainly too late for me.”

Steve tucked his head against Thane's shoulder, leaving a single, soft kiss against his throat. The warmth that spread through him ached in a distinct melancholic way.

“I want you,” Steve whispered.

“And I, you, Melithas.”

They sat in silence, desire glowing like coals in a dying fire. Outside, the rain poured over cold, muddy ground. Surrounded by dozens of displaced alliance soldiers with not even a curtain to separate them, there would be no sating their need tonight.

Thane pulled the blanket around them.

“Sleep now,” he whispered. “May we find each other in the world of dreams.”

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

Space was cold, but London's winters felt colder. Though they had managed to find work under a sturdy roof, helping Steve repair shuttles for service, his scales ached in ambient temperatures his body was not made to endure.

“I found some new gloves for you to try,” Steve said one evening as he returned from a supply run, handing him a scrunched-up bundle of yellow material.

Thane frowned. Human gloves were, in the simplest terms, not made for drell hands. But closer inspection revealed that these were different. Thick fibers encased the outside of a hand-shaped object that had space for one thumb and what appeared to be four fingers inside one space.

“They're called mittens. The requisitions officer made them special for you. Not my favorite color, but she said it's what they had.”

Thane turned the object over in his hand, examining its construction. Already, he could tell that the loose weave would catch on his scales, but as he turned the cuff over he was surprised to find a tightly woven, pale-colored lining within. The material moved effortlessly against his fingertips. As he slipped his hand inside, it felt positively luxurious compared to every other garment he’d worn since arriving on Earth.

“She said if you like them, she'll try to knit you something with individual fingers.”

Never mind the implied lack of dexterity - the mittens were warm. So blessedly warm. At a loss for words, he wound his arms around his lover and pulled him tight.

“Thank you. Thank you, Melithas.”

“Don't thank me yet - I have one more surprise for you.”

Thane met Steve's eyes with curiosity.

“I got your flight assessment results. You're cleared for training,” Steve grinned.

Thane’s face split into a wide smile. He hadn't thought he would qualify.

“When will we start?”

“Tomorrow, 6am sharp. Don't be late, cadet. If you’re lucky, I’ll take you to the mile-high club.”

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

Steve was strict about the Alliance SOP for flight training. As strict as he could be, at least.

As an entry-level trainee, Thane's primary task should have been to observe, learn his instruments, and assist his pilot. The difficulty was that he should have been doing it in a flight simulator - something they simply didn’t have access to.

“This is a little unorthodox, but we live in strange times,” Steve began. “Going up is easier than getting back down, so you'll pilot takeoff, I'll pilot landing. Shuttles like the Kodiak are typically only flown by one pilot, but assuming we fixed everything up right, I should be able to take control if something goes wrong.”

He clapped the back of Thane's seat, leaning over his shoulder as he settled in. It wasn’t his first tour of this particular shuttle’s cockpit, but he listened attentively as Steve recapped what they had gone over in the weeks before.

"Keep your eye on your instrument panel. This is your altimeter, here's your speed, artificial horizon and all that. Vertical stabilizers are to your left, horizontal to your right.” He indicated a set of controls adjacent to each armrest. “And here, this is your thrust lever.” The dual-handled lever was situated between them, well within reach.

Thane settled into the seat, touching each control and instrument one by one to commit the tour to memory.

"When this is green, we're on autopilot. For routine stuff like this, she’ll mostly fly herself. Things can be a little overwhelming initially, so focus on getting used to your instruments. We can move on to more advanced flying once you’ve mastered this."

Thane nodded, buckling himself into the seat as Steve did the same beside him.

Thane tapped the inputs as directed, felt the feedback in the haptic implants he’d gotten many years before. The shuttle hummed as they lifted off the ground, rumbling steady and even beneath them.

Steve opened his comm to their local traffic controller.

“Alliance Command, this is Steve Cortez with FRT requesting escape trajectory for UT-47 Kodiak test flight in vacuum.”

“FRT Cortez, you’re cleared for escape trajectory on heading two-four-zero to orbital station Triton. Fly safe out there.”

“Acknowledged.” Steve tapped the screen and met Thane’s eyes. "Set your heading here. And go easy on the gas,” he said with a lopsided grin.

The heading dial ticked up as they pivoted toward their given takeoff direction. Thane’s hand settled around the cold steel of the thrust lever.

“Take us up, babe.”

He breathed deep, set his shoulders, and pushed forward.

That first burst of speed was electric. They sailed forward, and he watched their altimeter tick up - slowly at first, and then faster and faster until their backs were glued to their seats at escape velocity. The engines roared beneath them like twin dragons, freed after months of confinement.

The ride was exhilarating. The shuttle shot through the clouds, the sun bursting into view like a fireball. And higher still they went, up and up and up. The digital windscreen cleaned up the distortion from the heat of their climb, but Thane could feel it - a corona of fire wreathed around them as they rocketed through the atmosphere until darkness overtook them at the final barrier between sky and stars.

And gods, the stars. He could never forget, as was his nature, but the stars were even more numerous than his memory. Their majesty commanded his reverence.

“Never gets old,” Steve said under a hushed breath.

Just how long had it been since he'd left the atmosphere? Thane counted back the months, long since accustomed to Earth's standard timescale - nearly one Solar year. Thane had never really considered himself a sailor, in a spacefaring sense, but perhaps he'd missed this more than he realized.

"Goddess of Oceans,” he whispered.

His teachers had said the cosmos was just an ocean by another name. An endless sea of stars, each created by Kalahira to guide the lost across her abyssal depths. He gazed upon them now, hand in hand with the wayward human he had come to cherish, and thanked the gods for smiling upon them. Steve's hand brushed his own, fingers slipping into his grip. The expanse of stars filled him with a warm, vibrant sensation, brighter than the rare sun of Kahje. He dared to call it hope.

"You're a natural, babe. You sure you've never flown before?" Steve kissed the back of his hand and gave it a tender squeeze. Thane’s cheek frills darkened.

"I suppose this means I’ve made it to the Mile High Club?”

Steve let loose a real, genuine belly laugh.

"Not quite," he said with a smile. Steve rose from his seat, twined his arms around Thane’s neck and brought his mouth to his aural ridge. “You're not in the mile-high club till you've made love at 5280 feet above sea level.”

There was a sultry edge to his voice that Thane hadn't expected, and he raised a brow (both brows, actually). He didn't dare hope for truth among those tempting words, but despite himself, they slithered with decadent heat beneath his skin.

“My altimeter says we're much higher than 5280 feet,” he said evenly.

“Your discipline never fails to amaze, but I’m putting this baby in standby.” Thane couldn't parse what ‘standby’ had to do with the situation at hand, but Steve quickly undid his safety belts and spun his chair around. “C’mere.”

The look in Steve’s eyes was telling.

“Do not tease me, Melithas.”

Warm breath washed over his throat, and Thane arched his neck on impulse. “Never, kitten.” And then Steve was on his knees before him, pulling their bodies tight, hands warm on his back.

The realization touched his mind as they drew close. Drifting among the stars, they were finally, blessedly alone. And in moments, their lips met as effortlessly as sea meets sand.

The kiss was everything they yearned for since the invasion began. Steve’s hunger for him parted the clouds of his mind, burned away the death and destruction of the war, and seeded life within his heart anew. Months. It had been months. The kiss flowed between them like a virile wine that slaked their long-buried thirst for one another that only the war could have put on hold.

With one hand on the back of his neck, Steve worked his other hand against the fasteners of his flight suit.

"Christ, Thane. If I have to go another night without you, I'm liable to fuck you silly in front of the entire barracks."

Thane hummed against his lips. "At this point, I don't believe I'd have the willpower to stop you.”

"I'll share a lot of things, babe. But you? Those sounds you make? Those are just for me. Only me."

Steve's mouth moved against his neck, licking a hot line along the most sensitive part of his throat. The cockpit, small as it was, quickly became their temple as they stripped each other bare by the low light of the haptic console.

"You're lucky," Steve said. "You have all those memories to fall back on." He dug his fingertips into Thane's pectoral frills, flooding him with need.

"Memories are far from sufficient," Thane groaned, wresting Steve's flight suit open, "Imagine yourself roused from a dream with naught more than your hand to satisfy you.”

"You poor thing," Steve whispered, gripping his chin as he drew their lips together. “Why don't you let me take care of you?"

"Please, Melithas," Thane whispered, his voice breaking on the knife edge of his need. "Whatever you wish of me is yours."

Steve’s answering murmur was low and laced with wanting. "I love it when you call me that."

Moments later, Thane found himself extricated from his suit, a warm hand sliding down along his shaft to his opening below, weeping with desire. Seeking fingers pushed inside him, collecting his wetness, massaging his walls. They emerged coated, smearing along the length of his cock, helping Steve's warm palm glide effortlessly along the length of him. Thane swore under his breath as he squeezed. Thank the gods for the well-placed perks of interspecies contrasts - he was beyond ready, aching and eager to be filled.

As quickly as he’d started, Steve suddenly pulled back. Thane met his gaze with concern.

"Hey,” he said quietly. “I'm sorry I haven't been as attentive as I should be."

There was a genuine apology in his eyes, reflecting the orange lights of the console. Thane scooched forward, thumb running along Steve’s jaw.

"You needn't apologize,” he said softly. “People are depending on us. We hardly have time for such indulgences."

"Yeah, but I just want you to know how special you are to me. I love you so god damn much. Some nights I want you so bad I can't sleep." To illustrate his point, Steve drew their bodies flush, making evident his own hardness beneath his shorts.

"I never doubted you,” Thane smiled, kissing him gently.

Steve’s answer was another kiss. On his lips, Thane could taste everything. All the love, the heartache, the frustration and desire and feeling that they’d been forced to set aside for the sake of rebuilding the basic pillars of survival. Steve’s hand gripped his waist, pulled him forward until they were both clumsily standing and stepping out of their clothes, neither of them willing to break this kiss they’d pined for all these months. The hard line of Steve’s cock pressed against his thigh as the man leaned against him, driving him backward one step at a time. Before long, he bumped the console and swore, reaching blind behind himself to lock the controls.

"Up," Steve ordered, and Thane was quick to comply. The instrument panel bit into his backside, but it didn’t matter as Steve reached between them, closing a fist around both of their cocks and stroking long and slow. “Let me make love to you,” he whispered.

“Please,” he said. “Gods above, please.”

He felt the way Steve’s lips curled into a smile against his mouth.

"Never done this in the cockpit before. But we'll make it work," he said as he lined himself up. He didn't hesitate, didn't tease - Steve's cock slid home, stretching him with the fullness he’d been denied for far too long. Warmth bloomed along his spine, crawling through his limbs and soul.

“Gods,” he panted. With some effort, he managed to raise one leg and splay his knee, altering the angle to an exquisite depth that made his dual eyelids flutter as Steve began to rock into him.

“That feel good, babe? You're so damn wet for me.”

There weren’t words for how fucking good it felt. Thane groaned incoherently, nipping Steve’s jaw, breath fleeing his lungs as another plunging thrust sent a wave of fire surging through him.

"You'll be good for me and wait to come till I’m ready, won't you?"

Steve’s fingers wrapped tight around his cock, pumping him in time with each deep, slow thrust. Thane's fingernails dug into the console, and he nodded.

"I know you can do it. Controlled guy like yourself, I gotta make it good for you. Make it worth the wait."

You were always worth the wait, Thane thought, unable to form the words. One hand gripped him by the hip, Steve's thumb slotting perfectly into his pelvic frill.

In the dim lighting, Steve's eyes reflected the myriad points of light from the windscreen and dashboard, twinkling as he moved with barely restrained purpose. His brows came together as he panted and leaned in, setting a pace that Thane felt would set them both aflame - long, plunging thrusts that hilted on every stroke, taking him to the stars and back as the seconds divided and multiplied into fathomless ecstasy.

“God, you are so damn beautiful,” Steve said, teeth scraping his lower lip. “I’d have you like this every day if I could.”

Thane returned the gesture, cradling Steve’s jaw as they kissed. "You'll just have to find more excuses to take the shuttle into orbit, then."

"I think I could swing that,” Steve panted. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of fucking you in front of a field of stars.”

A strangled, nearly pained gasp escaped him as Steve abruptly squeezed along his cock in a gesture he knew was meant to take him to the brink.

"Not yet," Steve leaned down to whisper. "Just a little longer, babe. You get so hot inside when you're close. Feels so damn good.”

"Melithas-"

He gasped when he pulled out, readjusted, and drove back home again, gaining speed until he was being well and truly railed into the dashboard. His ruined cries of desperation were lost to the frantic kiss they shared as Thane held on with what remained of his fraying control, wanting what they both needed - the visceral ecstasy of mutual release. And between them, the sweetest torture - Steve’s fist pumping him raggedly as his body was taken, filled again and again in the throes of bottled-up lust.

He couldn’t take it a moment longer. He never wanted it to end.

"Come for me, Thane."

His vision went white. Steve hilted one final time, swollen cock lodged deep inside his slick channel, dousing him from the inside out with thick, pulsing spend that warmed him within and without. Thane crested with him, gasping as his release poured into his lover's hand, rolling down over Steve's fingers and further still to the scorching heat of their joining. Steve pulled their bodies flush as they came, grinding out their mutual climax until they were both sated, panting, and spent.

Lucidity returned to him with the crawling chill of space and the silence of idle engines as they drifted in orbit. In contrast with the warmth of Steve’s body, he felt the instrument panel digging into his backside and began to stretch his limbs. Neither man wanted to separate.

“Melithas,” he murmured, palms pressed flat against Steve’s back, face tucked against his neck. “From the depths of my soul, I love you.”

Thane could hear the smile on Steve’s face as he held him tight and whispered back, “I love you, too, Thane.”

They dressed each other slowly, taking care to clean up as they went. Steve’s pupils were wide in the low light, his mind no doubt swimming with drell venom. Thane winced. In his haste, he hadn’t considered the logistics of returning to Earth in such a state.

“Plot a course for the Triton waypoint,” Steve said as they settled back into their seats. “We need their controllers to give us groundside status before re-entry.” He tossed Thane a wink. “I’ll be fine by then.”

Their hands met as the thrusters kicked on and they sailed forward. In the vacuum of space, they couldn’t feel their acceleration. If he closed his eyes, it felt like being aboard the Normandy again. Like home.

In the silence, Thane quietly wondered when he’d next have the opportunity to hold him, love him, worship him as they had in the months before the war. But peace, while difficult in its own way, promised them a beautiful future.

The memories would be enough until then.

#zet writes things #kriortez #thane krios #steve cortez #thane krios x steve cortez #priority: discord #secret santa #mass effect fanfiction

16 notes · View notes

rect-bibi · 3 months ago

Note

what kinda universe does your oc’s live in?

SO SORRY FOR A LATE REPLY i wanted to draw the mcs for each universe but,,,, gave up lmao ANYWAY i have a lot of oc universes, most of which i share with my partner and on which we both work on. there is a LOT of em, so forgive me but i will talk about the main 4 we put the biggest amount of thought into this might be a bit long ngl ^^'

"TO BE NAMED" - This one had a name before but we and my gf decided we don't like it anymore but we haven't found a replacement yet T-T EITHER WAY - This univese is set in a world not unlike our world, but it is ruled/watched over by different Gods, each of them related to different attributes (such as Art, Time, Light, Knowledge, the list goes on) and each of them having a separate region to watch over. Same Gods granted humans with certain powers a long time ago, and nowadays (for the storyline) people simply inherit the powers granted to their ancestors. The powers all circle back to the Gods themselves - if your ancestors were granted powers from God of Time, then the powers would be time-based in one way or another. The main storyline for this universe focuses on Special Academy students who are being trained into soldiers who are meant to deal with the main source of threat in the universe - Alters, who are deformed monster-like creatures, as well as the very person creating them.

"BETROTHED" - A more lighthearted universe storyline wise, with the main one focusing on the arranged marriage of the current rulers of the Valley Kingdom, King Lyra (the Valley Kingdom is heavily inspired by late medieval Poland! We had a female ruler bear the title of a 'King' for a while and I thought adding that to the universe itself would be nice) and the Forest Kingdom, King Orion. It's very 'slice of life' kind of story, with the world around it being a fairly simple fantasy setting, with the main gimick being Kingdoms being named after the terrain they reside on (genius, I know)

"SALEM'S DISSONANCE" - Or 'Ilrah' for short as we like to call it with my partner. It is a story revolving around a postapocalyptic-like world, overrun by an alien, parasite species by the name of 'Ilrah'. Those monsters are known to either eat or take over the bodies of humans, which led to the downfall of most of the population. Ilrah take over human bodies by basically forcing themselves into the host and then replacing the body's consciousness, killing the person in the process. However! Sometimes that process may go awry, and the human's consciousness isn't killed, while the Ilrah is still there. The main character of the story is one such case, and the main storyline follows him being forced into fighting Ilrah so that he wouldn't get killed for being half-taken over by the parasites the humans try to fight off.

"ETHTERIA" - My original passion project that my partner now helps me build better (she is an amazing world builder I couldn't be more grateful for her tips and feedback and whatnot). It is a story about aliens coming to Earth again, but this time their nature isn't parasitic like with Ilrah. Ethterians are essentially a refugee race, brought to Earth with the remaining strength their dying Gods had after their original planet has been attacked and fully destroyed by one of their own kind. The best way I can describe them is cosmic elementals, devided by the elements they can wield in a manner similar to magic - Fire, Water, Earth, Air, Light and Darkness. The story itself takes place centuries after Ethterians were brought to Earth - the closest planet that had almost the same climate as Ethteria. After years of (partial) peace, their new home is found and attacked by the very same person who caused the downfall of their original homeland, and now, without their Gods to aid them like they did before, they are now forced to face the source of their despair head on and get rid of it

that should be it!!! if you have any other questions, feel free ^^

#but fr do ask i am so happy to see a notif that i got something in my inbox hehehehehe #oc #original project #original projects #answering thing #waterbaloo7

5 notes · View notes

theillustratedwriter · 12 days ago

Text

Sunlit Moonrise | Daechwita Min Yoongi/Agust D x OC (Royalty/Fantasy AU)

<Previous Chapter

Next Chapter>

Chapter 2: The Fabled Five

Whether one lives in the tallest turrets of Verectias Palace or a humble miner's abode in the shadowy Vulstis kingdom, all can recall the tale of The Fabled Five word-for-word. Whilst someone living in the lush, warm confines of Fort Belltoria may be lulled to sleep by a lady in silk robes holding the tale in a leather-bound book form, another living in the distant fields of Nalentus would be guided into the land of sleep just the same through word-of-mouth and the warmth of a single candle. The Fabled Five is the story of Patrinis's beginning, expertly spun into a mellow children's bedtime story.

Mothers and nursery maids puff out their chests in pride- almost as if it is a tradition to do so- as they begin the story of how five men, so very different in class, stature and expertise, bravely traversed the Promise Sea together in hopes of starting anew. A jeweller, a farmer, a preacher, a knight, and a clerk- a most unlikely crew, and yet they founded the now flourishing land of Patrinis. Preacher Nocriam, the holiest of the men, knew no amount of travelling would allow them to escape the eyes of the Gods. And so, upon asking for hope and goodwill from the Sun God, with his necklace clutched tightly between his hands, this virgin land would now be baptised forevermore as the Country of Patrinis. With the four other men watching on, they agreed to set up camp at what is now known as the Hall of Witnesses in the Kingdom of Nocriam.

After camp was set up, Mr Nalentus began rifling through his satchel for his golden trowel, securing the tool in his hand as his eyes danced across the landscape for any sign of vegetation. Catching a glimpse of green far off in the southeast, Mr Nalentus set off. The Kingdom of Nalentus was born.

Sir Belltoria's gaze remained trained on the Promise Sea, hand tightly bound to the sheath at his hip that housed his trusty ruby sword. He would be prepared if anything dared to rear its head over the horizon or the natural borders he had also duly noted. Therein, the vast Kingdom of Belltoria and its ports were formed.

Meanwhile, Lord Vulstis vaguely fiddled with the emerald ring on his finger, showing immense interest in the geology surrounding him. A knowing smirk flashed across his face as his hand scrutinised a specific area of sedimentary rock. Here, the Kingdom of Vulstis would be built.

Mr Verectias remained at base camp with Preacher Nocriam, listening vaguely to the holy man as his prayers to the Sun God morphed into ones for the Moon God as darkness consumed the land. Verectias had been insouciantly observing the others as they wandered into the unknown, noting everything down as it occurred so we could tell this tale today. He would take frequent glances at his pocket watch to acknowledge what happened when. He had also considered how the look of the secluded and peaceful northern mountain range brought him comfort.

As Patrinis began to thrive, more people migrated there to form the vast populations of its five kingdoms that we know today. From mountain to forest, sea to sky, past to present to future, the lands of Patrinis will prevail.

Reading the Patrinis mantra at the end of a children's story finally makes Aine slam the book shut, scoffing at the irony. The last time she had been told this watered-down version of The Fabled Five was when she was a young child- her mother had been plaiting her hair into a suitable updo for a Lady of the Vulstis Court. Now, here she stands, sneering at a book encapsulating her childhood ignorance, in the neighbouring Kingdom of Nocriam.

The truth is that the five founders were cowards. They sailed across the Promise Sea to escape their previous lives. Their statuses did not matter to one another because fear had stripped them bare and scrutinised them under its most robust magnifying glass. Fear does not care about class, status or expertise- humans are humans. To avoid fear's clutches completely devouring their every breath, thought, and whim, they fled to Patrinis, hoping this barren land would shield them from fear's relentless talons. But Mr Verectias, the conniving little man, decided to write a version of events where the founders are perceived as heroes. This version of The Fabled Five is told to children who are the future of Patrinis. Mr Verectias was always thinking of the future. And King Park Jimin is the same, which makes him just as unbearable.

"Yet the meticulous idiot never actually told us what caused this fear. Selfish cowards." Aine mumbles under her breath, taking her frustrations with the founders out on the book by shoving it back on the shelf with such force that the leather cover tears a little.

"Didn't know King Min could turn into a book." a gruff voice quips, causing Aine to whirl around.

"You're not funny." Aine deadpans, crossing her arms.

King Caylus lets out a hearty chuckle, his fur cloak swaying, and his greying shoulder-length hair bouncing in time with his strides as he approaches his daughter. His enormous stature takes up the entirety of the space between bookshelves; it is a surprise he does not become stuck.

"I am. Your mother said so," he announces, placing a large hand on Aine's shoulder as if trying to confirm that his wife did, in fact, exist once, "what are you doing in the library, anyway? I didn't take you for a reader."

Aine rolls her eyes at her father's one-track mind. "I was trying to see if there is anything about the Kingdom of Vulstis here that could be useful. It's not just all fighting, father. Then I stumbled across the children's version of The Fabled Five, which annoyed me even more."

"My daughter, don't you think I would have told my people to search the pages of this library countless times for answers already? If there is one thing I did not teach you well enough, it is patience." King Caylus reprimands, playfully hitting Aine on the back, causing her to stumble forward. She meets his grey eyes with a look of disapproval, to which he snorts, motioning for her to follow.

Walking through the familiar halls, guards and preachers bow to Aine and her father. Aine can't help the unsettling feeling when wading through the west corridor towards the Hall of Witnesses, even though the strongest man she knows is right beside her. Portraits of the Jungs- previous rulers of the Nocriam Kingdom- line the walls, their painted eyes following and dissecting Aine's every movement as she passes. Although the late King Jung appointed King Caylus as ruler and protector of this realm, Aine has a feeling that the rest of the Jung ancestors may feel betrayed. Not wanting to be intimidated by oil on canvas any longer, Aine scurries into the Hall of Witnesses after her father.

The Hall of Witnesses has to be the finest work of the founder, Mr Nalentus. With windows from floor to ceiling, the hall is bright. The lighting reflecting off the white marble surfaces from which the structure is made provides the illusion that everyone is elevated high in the sky, within earshot of the Sun and Moon Gods. Five pillars are curved in a semi-circle shape, each with an elaborately carved animal representative of each kingdom's sigil. Beneath each sigil are five identical wooden imitation thrones. In the centre of the semi-circle is a singular chair atop an intricate floor painting of the Sun and Moon Gods. This is where the speaker sits to engage their pressing issue before sitting back on their wooden throne. The rest of the hall is built like an auditorium where relevant lords, ladies, knights, advisors, preachers and civilians can sit, listen and witness the proceedings of the Parish of Patrinis.

Aine has been tempted many times to vandalise the fox carving and the throne beneath it, but considering the Hall of Witnesses is a place of neutrality, she has had to show her utmost self-restraint despite the image of King Min Yoongi sitting upon a broken throne at the next Parish of Patrinis being hilarious.

"We have the Parish of Patrinis in here tomorrow. Be on your best behaviour." King Caylus reminds, half-joking, half-warning his hot-tempered daughter. He has his back to Aine, admiring the wooden throne below the marble owl, which is currently being cleaned and polished to the nth degree by servants. The other thrones are getting but a quarter of the attention. Aine quirks a brow at the observation.

"Sit still, look pretty, don't say anything offensive. Who called it?" Aine questions, hands on hips. She does not much care to interact with the insufferable rulers of the other kingdoms, so had not bothered to ask her father before this point about who had called the Parish to meeting.

King Caylus turns to peer at Aine over his shoulder, looking her dead in the eyes. "King Min Yoongi." he reveals gravely.

Aine's eye twitches and her jaw clenches. Suddenly, she feels the need to go out for some archery practice.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

A/N:

Yoongi: *breathes*

Aine: 😡🤬

I hope you all enjoyed this! I haven't written in a while, so Sunlit Moonrise is really challenging me to get back into it and express things the way I want them to be expressed. It's harder than I remember, but I am sure as the story continues and I grow to know and love these characters more, I will get into the flow of it.

Which of the five founders do you find most interesting?

Thank you for reading!

-illustrated

<Previous Chapter

Next Chapter>

Sunlit Moonrise Masterlist

4 notes · View notes

keikoii · 2 months ago

Text

Spirits of Sadira

(Fantasy, greek icons, +3.7k words)

It was 750 BC when the old infamous Mount Olympus crashed… The life of the gods that many worshipped has all been taken away within the span of a year. Although it may seem like it was a long time for an entire empire to crash, it was like it all crashed within a few days for those who suffered from the Dreums. Why don’t we go back to right before it started?

“Uncle, Maysie got out of her stall again, do you want me to go get her or can she free roam for a while?” Ameiah asked as she watched the Clydesdale she named roam around her uncles farm. “Let her free roam for the time being, let her go back in when she wants to.” Ameiah’s uncle said as he sharpened his sickle. The 19 year old girl nodded as her winged ears fluttered, the opal feather shivering from the soft breeze running through the air. The girl was born with a deformity, blessed with winged ears, dropped on the doorsteps of her mortal uncle by her father, Hermes, and her mother, Peitho, who happened to be one of Hermes’s consorts. They left her on his doorsteps with a note stating these words, almost bringing tears to the man’s eyes as the baby cooed. The man was heartbroken to find out what had happened for these circumstances to end up on his doorstep.

“Dear Antaeus… I know this is a lot to get bring on suddenly, but you will understand after reading this message… As you know, Peitho recently bought Ameiah into the world and everything was alright, until we noticed that towns here being deserted for no reason... cities and villages all gone after a peaceful day... Peitho and I started to investigate it... The Dreums are back... someone is harming Sadira… All the spirits are coming back, and they are claiming the lives of our people... Zeus and the others refuse to investigate this and believe us, so they casted us out. I knew that we were in danger, and it would break my heart if something happened to Peitho or Ameiah... So, I’m leaving Adeia in you care... by the time you read this, Peitho and I are in Sadira…”

Most of those that live near Olympus or know the history on it knew Dreums were not anything to play with. Dreums were vengeful brought back by hades during his reigning era. He brought them back in hopes of creating an army to overpower the city of Olympus. It worked at first... Until they came after him as well. It was like they couldn’t tell the difference over who ruled over them. Eventually taking his soul and bringing it to Sadira, the lotus tree of souls, everyone goes there when their physical body turns to ashes and forms the spiritual soul, floating away to Sadira in the partially abandoned land of Heraclea Pontica. After the down fall of the world, the leading gods, Cronus, Rhea, and Ananke All came together to form what is now known as Tragedy’s Heart, formed from the souls of Cronus, Rhea, and Ananke. Tragedy’s Heart collected every Dreum that had been roaming the lands and held them in the glowing heart shaped figure. They stored the heart in Sadira, in hopes that no one would find it. Unfortunately, Hades son, Plutus, had plan to keep his father’s plan in action and sought out for the heart, and eventually found it, shattering it into three pieces and spreading across the land of Olympus before he walked right into the Dreums, ending his fate and keeping his secret safe.

It had been 103 years since everything happened, leading up to current events. Dreums still roamed the world as we know of it and many souls would be added to Sadira day. Fortunately, Ameiah was unaware of this due to her uncle keeping her secluded from the dangers of the world. Ameiah was tending to the vegetable garden when you she heard giggling coming from afar. She was cautious as it sounded like two children, nothing like her uncle, she held her trowel up with weary as she approached the voice. She turned the corner of her house, dropping the garden tool as she witnessed to floating babies, with wings?

“Oh, my gods… What are you?!” She shrieked as the two figures stopped laughing and turned to her with a dumbfounded expression. “We’re Cherubs, duh! What else would we be?” one cherub with green hair said as the other, marked with grayish shade of blue hair said as if it was common sense.

“What is a cherub?” Ameiah asked the cupids as the two floating babies looked at her with a shocked expression. “You don’t know what a cherub is? Were cupids babies, we help people fall in love with their fated soulmates. I’m Beau and this is Honey.” Said the Green haired one, now known as Beau, and the blue haired one, Honey. Ameiah nodded in understanding. “So, why are you here then? Do you know who my soulmate is or something?” Ameiah asked as she dusted her skirt off, clearing the moist soil off it. “Oh no Ameiah, us and the world need you!’ Beau exclaimed as he flew around the young adult. “What do you mean the wor- Wait… I never told you my name...” Ameiah cautiously noticed as she picked up the garden tool once again, aiming at the Cherubs. “Wait! Don’t be frightened. I promise we mean no harm! We know everybody in the world, and we would especially need to know you if you’re going to be the world’s hero!” Honey explained, leaving Ameiah confused.

After Honey and Beau explained why they needed Ameiah as the worlds savior, Ameiah understood everything, quickly taking in the information as the cherubs lead Ameiah to a water. Ameiah took notice that the waterfall looked out of the ordinary as if someone just built it in the middle of nowhere. “Prepare for a drop!” The cherubs exclaimed at the same time as they pushed the girl into the waterfall.

Ameiah opened her as she blinked the darkness away, only to find two giant women standing above her, dressed in silks, one in a grayish green and the other purple. The women gasps and stood up all the way when Ameiah sat up, finding herself on a large bed, as if built for giants. Ameiah looked at giantesses with astonishment at their beauty. “… Who are you…?” the girl questioned as the women smiled. “I’m Demeter and this is Daphne! You must be Ameiah, right? Hermes and that snake, Peitho’s, daughter?” Demeter introduced as she hissed out your mother’s name. “You know my parents? How come they left me on my uncles doorstep? Did you bring me here?! Why am I here and what’s all this about ‘Dreums’ or whatever?!” Ameiah panicked as she questions the women. “Did Honey and Beau not explain everything to you?” Daphne questioned as she scolded the cherubs. “No, no, they did. I’m confused on why you think I’m the hero that going to defeat these Dreums?” Ameiah questioned as the two women helped her up. “In the prophecy, the child of a god and a consort born with winged ears is destined to be savior of the world form the Dreums. That is, you! It is Daphne and I’s duty to train you for the world, and that starting today. Come on! Up, Up, up!” Demeter rushed as she brought Ameiah to her feet, dragging her outside as she prepared different obstructions.

Within the span of 2 months, Daphne and Demeter endlessly trained the 19 year old as she gained skills and intelligence, upping in strength and personality as she was finally on her last obstacle, which happened to be a question from Demeter. “Why did hades turn on everyone?” The question stunned the girl as she pondered on the question. “How am I supposed to know?” Ameiah questioned. Demeter raised an eyebrow. “You have read the prophecy, right? You have been training for 2 months, yet you can’t answer this? Ameiah, don’t disappoint me please…”

Ameiah furrowed her eyebrows as she quickly got frustrated, she crossed her arms. “What do you mean disappoint you? I haven’t done anything at all and your already on my back about this question. This is supposed to be my last question, why don’t you let me have a break!” Ameiah’s tone increased as she got closer to Demeter, Daphne and the cherubs worried in the background. The two started to argue as the room reeked of tension. The bystanders biting their lips in hope that the arguing would come to see, only to see it get worse.

“Well, why don’t you go and fight the Dreums yourself?! Hopefully, you fail and get swallowed up by one of them!” Ameiah shouted as she stormed into the house, locking herself in her room. Demeter, Daphne, and the cherubs stood there with shocked expressions after hearing the words from the teens mouth, resulting in Demeter storming off to her room as well, slamming the door.

Hours later, Daphne convinced the cherubs to talk to Demeter while she talked with Ameiah.

“Ameiah, dear… I know that think Demeter is on you for not answering the question, but I promise you that she’s only looking for things in your best interest and I know you think that you can’t answer the question or that there’s no answer to it, but you can and there is an answer to it, it’s in your mind, you just have to find it.” Daphne reassured the teen as she sat on the Ameiah’s bed.

“But what if I don’t? and what if Demeter doesn’t forgive me for what I said, I know that it was pretty mean to say…” Ameiah frowned, scooting to the edge of the bed to sit next to Daphne.

“I know that she’ll forgive you, she used to be like you when she was a teen y’know” Daphne giggled as she tried to lighten the situation up.

“Really? Demeter, Goddess of the agriculture, fertility, the harvest, and the earth… used to be like me? I don’t believe it...” Ameiah questioned.

“Yes, yes, she was the sassiest and brattiest teenager known in her age, no one could convince that girl otherwise when it can to things she wanted or didn’t like!” Daphne exclaimed as the laughter died down.

“Now why don’t you go and apologize before she really doesn’t forgive you?” The goddess suggested as she stood up and opened the door. Ameiah nodded as she walked out of the room and knocked on Demeter door.

“Hey Demeter… I’m sorry for yelling at you like that... I never meant it and I shouldn’t have said it... You’re like a mother to me, you really are, you helped me train to defeat the Dreums… Do you forgive me...?” Ameiah confessed as she hoped Demeter was accept her apology, only to be met with silence…

Ameiah huffed with sadness and disappointment as she turned around and walked away, only to a soft voice coming from Demeter’s room. “Of course I forgive you, come here...” Demeter forgave with a small smile and open arms. Ameiah smiled widely and rushed to meet her embrace.

A 2 weeks later, Ameiah was set on her mission and was on her to find all three pieces of Tragedy’s Heart with Daphne and Demeter. Fortunately, they have already found one piece. Every time they encountered a Dreum, they used the piece they found toward them off. Finally, after another week of looking for all the piece for the heart, she found the second piece in the land of Pagasae. All that is left is the biggest piece, but there seems to absolutely no clues on it, as if it doesn’t exist.

After a few days of rest, of course after defeating some Dreums that dared to cross their way, Ameiah, Demeter, Daphne, and the cherubs we figured out why they couldn’t find where the last piece was. It was the middle of the night when Daphne and Demeter were examining the map when the wind blew the sacred paper out of the women’s hands, flying into the fire they had used for a source of heat and light. The two women gasped as it landed in the blaze, only for it to remain untouched, and instead, revealed a hidden cave in the center of… The Realm of Elysium? The realm of Elysium was Demeter’s domain. Surprisingly, Demeter raised an eyebrow in confusion as she had no knowledge in the last piece being in her domain. Daphne laughed in shock and surprise as she went to go wake up Ameiah. Ameiah woke up with a sweat as Daphne shook her from her sleep as Daphne explained what had happened, Ameiah’s fatigue completely vanished as she sat up all the way.

“Really?! That’s amazing to hear! We’ll set out first thing in the morning!” Ameiah exclaimed as she moved to tuck her left back in the makeshift bed. Daphne nodded and went back to Demeter who had gotten the untouched map out of the blazing fire.

The second the sun has shown its face in the horizon, the cherubs were the first to wake up, soon followed by Ameiah and Demeter. Demeter took it to herself to wake up the not-so- morning person of the group, leaving a tired and grumpy Daphne to brush the dirt of her silks.

It had been no more than five minutes to get to Demeter’s domain, as she had the ability to transport herself and anyone, she wanted to it in the matter of minutes. Ameiah opened her eyes as she took in the botanical scenery around her, finding all diverse types of plants and trees of the sort. There had been a long pathway to where the last piece was according to the map.

The five people had started the journey as soon as they had refreshed themselves and freshened up. It took 6 hours to get at least ¾ of the way as all of them had the courage, only to be stopped by a large horde of Dreum. It took energy and at least 30 minutes of their time to defeat the horde. As the group got closer, the more hordes and herds of Dreums there were. It was vividly taking a toll on the group as they grew weaker on their own, Demeter’s and the Cherub’s powers coming to their limits, Daphne’s, and Ameiah combat skills weaking in strength and the two pieces of the heart they obtained, powers weakening in strength as well. They had finally gotten to where the map had shown where the last piece was. It was the top of Sadira…

Before anyone could produce a plan, the serene sky had washed over with a moody and mourning color. As the group was focused on the sky changing, there was a low rumble in the area as Sadiras branches were losing souls, only mean one thing… The group turned their heads with a horrified and shocked expression as they noticed a large horde of Dreums surrounding them, inclosing them in a medium sized space.

The group collectedly worried for the future of their lives as the circled continued to shrink. Demeter and the Cherubs were running out of power, blinking in and out. Demeter produced a quick plan as she called out to Ameiah, catching her attention as she signaled to Ameiah to jump. As Ameiah listened and jumped, Demeter spawning thick vines under her to shoot her to the top of Sadira. Ameiah quickly understood what she needed to do as Daphne and the Cherubs kept trying to use the pieces of Tragedy’s Heart to ward the Dreums away, sadly failing as the Heart’s power faded, the glowing gem’s light going in and out as they huddled up to Demeter in hopes of them helping each other.

Ameiah quickly grabbed the last piece as she made her way down the tree and into the circle with the rest of her group. She held the heart up and quickly reached for the other fading pieces, connecting them together. The group had watched the Heart glow with life for a few seconds only to completely shut off, the groups smiles left their faces and disappointment washed over.

The Dreums got closer as the five huddled up together, The Cherubs whining as they huddled in between Demeter and Daphne’s arms. Demeter and Daphne holding each other as the wind blew through their hair. Ameiah searched in panic as she picked up the Tragedy’s Heart.

“No, no, no! why isn’t it working!? It’s supposed to defeat the Dreums, why isn’t it working!” Ameiah panicked as she grabbed the heart, shaking, hoping for some sort of glow. Demeter looked at the girl with sorrow as she put her hand on Ameiah’s shoulder, pulling her into Daphne’s and her embrace. Ameiah fell into her embrace as she had a look of defeat as she embraced the goddess back, eyes still locked on the dull heart.

The Dreums approached the sorrowful group and eventually swallowed them up. The group turned to stone as every detail in their face was captured. The statues eventually started to ash away, turning to dust as the ashes flew into the air, glowing a bright blue. The souls flew into the air as their souls flew into the direction of Sadira. The groups souls had already landed on the branch, their souls turning into the very leave that makes the tree soul wonderful. The Dreum start to speed away looking for next people to avenge when suddenly, a bright glowing light blared across the realm, decimating all Dreums in its way… Tragedy’s Heart’s life had come back, fulfilling its duty, and succeeding the reason it was created.

Every soul that had been taken and turned was falling from the branches of Sadira, much like the autumn leaves of a tree in fall. Everything had been restored as the cities had been inhabited ad ridden of life was full and lively. The realm of Elysium’s plants color had been restored as the plants and shrubs practically glowed with life.

All five of the members had reversed everything they needed as their statues reformed, and eventually turned back the original materials, skin, fabrics, all sorts of thing. The former statures, now people stayed still before their chests finally breathed out, indicating life in the people. Ameiah opened her eye and looked around, reveling in the restored scenery. She smiled and laughed in a victory as she felt the rest of her friends chest move against her and knew they were alive and alright. The rest of the group moved as they relished in the new scenery and smiled along with Ameiah. After a minute of regrouping, Demeter transported the group back to Mount Olympus as they looked at the scenery. Buildings destroyed, palaces turned to rubble, but the people had been restored as the city was partially thriving like once again.

It took a few hours but eventually, Demeter took the group to Daphne’s cottage, where the Cherubs had originally taken Ameiah to after shoving her into the waterfall. Ameiah had been chatting with the group for hours on end when suddenly a knock on the front door was heard. Ameiah offered to open the door as she walked to it. She opened the door with a smile before it shrunk with a confused look.

At the door, A woman and a man stood there with heartfelt smiles. Ameiah noticed that man had winged ears just like her and that the woman had looked closely related to each other as she connected the dots.

“Mom? Dad?” She questioned as she stood at the door. Demeter and Daphne overheard her words and perked up, speed walking to the door. Daphne squealed and moved to hug the man as she hugged him tight. The man chuckled awkwardly as the woman next to him looked at him with a dangerous look. He opted to give Daphne a quick side hug and shrugged her off and waved to Demeter.

“Yes sweetie, it’s us! I’m so proud to see you all grown up!” the woman smiled and hugged Ameiah. Ameiah laughed in relief as she watched to the two people, finding all the similarities and differences between the two adults. Demeter offered to let the inside for a drink and to get to know Ameiah and vice verses.

“I’m so glad I got to finally meet you… I really am” Ameiah smiled as she hugged the two. The couple hugged back tightly and smiled along with Ameiah. All three of them walked out of Demeter’s home after saying their goodbyes. Hermes held Ameiah’s shoulder as they transported back to Ameiah’s uncle, and Hermes adopted brothers house.

As they all got to the porch, Ameiah knocked on the door, expecting there to be no answer due to her uncle usually going to sleep around sundown. Surprisingly, he immediately opened the door as he looked for Ameiah immediately, squeezing her tight when he noticed her, checking her for any injuries. He almost shed tears when he finally noticed the couple standing behind her as she stepped to the side.

Hermes immediately moved to hug his brother long and tight as they patted each other’s backs. They finally let go of the hug after a few seconds and Peitho stepped to hug the man as well as he welcomed her. He asked the family to come inside, and mostly asked Ameiah to explain why she disappeared out of nowhere and didn’t come back for months on end.

As she explained everything that happened, she asked her uncle if she could live with her parents now, of course offering to visit often and help take care of the animals in the barn she had been helping at since she ever could. The man hesitantly agreed and made her reassure that she would visit him. The family decided to stay with the brother for two weeks to catch up.

The family left after two weeks and often visited as Ameiah got used to her new scenery that she could now call home.

The End…

Spirits of Sadira…

#greek tumblr #ancient greek #greek mythology #greek quotes #new #new writer #fanfic #fantasy #assignmentwriting #essay #original story #3k words

2 notes · View notes

what-the--curtains · 2 years ago

Text

Fire & Ice

Chapter 1 - A Political Affair

(Robb Stark x f!Targaryen!reader)

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

The reader hears voices brought on by magic. This may be triggering for people who experience psychosis. Please take care.

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

Synopsis: A ghost from your past returns, changing the course of your future forever.

Authors note: Oh boy back at the start! This is a fic Ive wanted to write since I first read the books at 14. Think of it as a “What if…” scenario. I’ve tried to abide by the rules of the world best I can. As always, comments are always welcome but be nice! Most importantly I hope you enjoy 💕

Tw: Physical/verbal abuse, kidnapping, hunting, blood

Tag list: @kittykylax , @winxschester , @mihrimahsultan03 , @stargaryenx , @the-desilittle-bird

Playlist

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

Moat Cailin

The wind blows cold, prickling the hairs on Catelyn's neck. Winter was coming. The words hold meaning now, more than ever. Gloved hands clutch an envelope written in haste, any desire for perfection dissipating upon the arrival of urgent news an hour prior. Her husband was dead, the Lannister’s to blame, and with her daughters still in their clutches debts were owed to her. Debts that would not be repaid unless Robb bent the knee, but any notions of peace had vanished the moment the blade struck her husband's neck. Ned’s final note to her was the cause for her movements tonight, revealing a secret, a secret kept across the narrow sea for nearly twenty years. The information was too sensitive to share, and a decision was made without consultation. Better to ask for forgiveness. The frost crunches beneath her boots, the first breath of winter moving south with her son's siege. She jolts as hurried steps sound out on the old wooden wharf. Clutching a smaller dagger close to her chest, she turns towards the noise.

“Were you followed?” she whispers urgently.

“No,” the man replies calmly, hood cloaking his identity. His hand reaches out causing Catelyn's gaze to flit down towards the open palm.

“This must be received by its recipient,” she stresses, “do you understand me? Protect it with your life, dock your ship, await their answer. If this succeeds you will be paid out in triple of what has already been given,”

“Money is not my influence, my Lady,” the man replies

“Most men say as much, until the correct price is offered,'' she replies, placing the letter firmly into his palm. Her husband's sigil stares back up at her, the running wolf illuminated by the moon, and she releases her grasp. “May the winds be with you,” she whispers.

“And the winter with you,” the man replies, bowing. She watches him stride down the dock, others appear from the shadows joining him, slipping seamlessly from the darkness onto the ship before them. She was told he was the fastest sailor in Braavos, one who held his own resentment towards the Lannisters, though those details he provided sparingly. She watches the vessel disappear over the horizon, leaving her alone with the moon. She prayed to the old gods and the new, that her words reached the intended ears. Her family's survival hung in the balance, the letter was their key to salvation. A salvation yet to be discussed with her eldest, but hesitation was a risk she was not willing to take, not with her daughter's lives on the line. If Ned's letter had been intercepted others will already be on their way to destroy what she sought. Robb was older now, more sure of himself, but she would force him on this path, it was the only way, and he would see that one way or another.

Norvos

A smile spreads across Visery Targaryens face, as his manicured nails rapp against the wood desk. He clutches the yellowed paper flimsily between his thin fingers. Across the sea, havoc reigned, he wondered how many more would declare themselves kings.

“One more at least,” He declares, looking into the cracked mirror. “Renly and Stannis Baratheon argue over rights, the Lannister’s clutch on with all the gold in the world boosting the inbred Joffrey, while the newly declared king in the north, moves further south each day. Yet to lose a battle, or so his mother would have me believe.” Visery scoffs. If what he read was true, he had an army awaiting him. The only caveat being his traitorous little sister. It should have been him leading the Dothraki towards the narrow sea, pillaging Westeros and reclaiming the iron throne in the name of his ancestors. But he had been unjustly banished by his sister's pompous husband Khal Drogo over nothing more than a petty squabble. An accidental blade and a ridiculous primitive custom that had led him to his current shit stained accommodation. He tilts the note closer to the light, the writing is rushed, but the wax seal is legitimate, the Starks insignia pressed into it, the letter was short, to the point, leaving no room for misunderstandings.

Catlynn Stark wanted a marriage, a fast alliance between two houses, securing both the north and the south under one roof. The benefits were clearly laid out, for the Starks, a legitimate claim to the throne, a way to rally those in King's Landing sick of the Lannisters domination and cruelty. For him nothing less than the seven kingdoms, or at least the six. The north would remain free in accordance with her demands, but that was a bridge easily burned when reached. A proclaimed king in the north would be easily taken down. The Northerners were brutes after all, easily distracted and easily pleased.

The timing of the request was nothing short of impeccable. News had spread of Khal Drogo's passing, killed by an infected blade no more than a year prior. Curious how those things happen. His child was born early, deformed and dead, rumours of a monster summoned by a witch, but Visery knew the truth. Drogo’s bloodline was evidently not strong enough to create a true Targaryen. Perhaps the king in the north would prove different. His sister was once again a fresh slate, a sow ready to be resold, all he needed to do was find her. His eyes turned to the small chest of coins he had saved precisely for this moment. Two sellswords should do the trick, the rest would follow with ease. You will not have forgotten your place, even after spending so much time amongst the Dothraki ranks. You were not a khaleesi, not a ruler, but you were a Targaryen, and he was your king by right of blood. He would make sure you remember that, and your duty to your family.

Vaes Dothrak

The sun rises over the great plains and you stare out across the grass fields, swaying as the sea breeze blows through them. You were closing in on the coast, the air saltier with each passing day. The dark blue sky turns to bright yellow as the sun rises in the east, its unchanging nature mocking you. Still each day you came and watched, waiting for a miracle. Mirri’s cackle followed you around, not even the sound of her screams as she burnt could replace the laugh that came before. No comfort to you was her death. Nor was the smell of charred flesh that filled the air as you watched the pyre burn through tear stained eyes. A warm breeze blows, and your hand absentmindedly rests on your stomach, gently running over what could have been. Time would not heal these wounds, but you could not yield yet. You had come too far to turn back now. Your ancestors' voices grew louder with each mile, they echoed from Dragonstone calling you home. The narrow sea was close, the Iron throne well within your grasp now a fully fledged khalasar stood behind you. Though whether they would brave the poisoned water was another question, one that would be answered by nightfall.

Khaleesi, yer hash yatholat. Jif anha afazhi ale eveth? * Khaleesi, you are up. Should I warm some water? * Irri states softly, having followed your trail out towards the ledge. You smile, as she rubs the sleep from her eyes.

“Vo anna hrazef, anha Fonas jin aena” *No get my horse, I hunt this morning* you reply.

“Yer hash haqe tat yer remekat” *You are tired, did you sleep?* she asks, hands tracing under your eyes before interlocking her hand with yours. Irri was your most trusted confidante. She had held you when Drogo had died and stood by you when others left, managing to convince one of his bloodriders to remain. Cohallo had placed you under his protection stating that Drogos final act was to cross the narrow sea, and that he would see that it was done for the blood of his blood. You hoped his promise still held true, but you sensed the mens nerves as you approached the coast. Jorah said there was no need to worry, the promise of greatness, gold and conquest would be enough to drive the Dothraki forward, though you were aware that their cooperation would come with contingencies. Jorah believed it would be asked that you marry Cohallo once King’s landing was seized. You doubted the seven kingdoms would bend to two foreigners, though with enough force even the strongest will could yield. A fact you had learnt on the battlefield as you became intimately familiar with the price of victory. You had become acquainted with the smell of death, and the havoc of a siege. You had lived it, eventually earning the mens respect by bleeding alongside them.

“Not well, I dreamt snow came to the plains. It rotted the crops and froze the young and old, and there was nothing I could do to stop it, no matter how much fire I made, the ice kept coming,” you reply, nodding to the horse handlers as you approach your mare.

“It cannot snow here khaleesi. This is known,” she states, lifting down your leather armour.

“I know, it just felt like a…” you hesitate for a moment, searching for the right word.

“Mel attirarido?” *Bad Dream* Irri offers, boosting you up onto the horses back.

“An omen,” You reply, looking down, feeling her fear, you offer a reassuring smile “but you’re right it's impossible,”

Sweat beads beneath the thick leather armour as Irri hands you your bow, engraved with a golden dragon. It had been given to you on your wedding day by your husband. You hear his voice carry in on the wind “Rakh ki tor laz addrivat ha hrazef save sekke laz yeri “ *Boys of four learn to kill, you can too *

“san athchomari yeraan” *thank you* you state fixing it across your chest, placing your arrows into their quiver.

“khaleesi, yer eth nakho ha jin mithri ki mahrazhi” *My Queen you must wait for the rest of the men* she relays.

“Anha tat vo jin qeshah, anha tih jin deer. Anha eth vo assilat me, astat jorah anha'll tikh irge hatif jin shekh” *I do not fear this land, I saw a deer. I do not wish to lose it, tell Jorah I will return before day break to plan on our next move*

You kick off into a canter, the wind stings your face as you ride towards where you had last seen the stag. You slow to a trott as the tracks come into view, etched into the dirt, hardened from a recent drought. Trees appear along a small stream, fighting against nature to survive. The dead wood creaks in the wind, barren but still growing upwards. Perhaps this was once a great forest, perhaps this is why the deer still came. You stall and drop down from your horse, quietly moving between the trees settling behind a patch of tall grass, the only thing able to survive the aridity. Your eyes follow the tracks forward until you see the herd standing in the distance. The grass sways in the wind covering the noise you make as you pull a quill from its carrier. The string creaks as you pull it back, waiting, eyes locked on the stag standing boldly amongst the herd. The breeze blows from behind you, you fire, striking it directly between the eyes. You thank the seven for the food as you stand, the rest of the herd bounding off, you lead your mare through the woods tying her to a tree as you begin processing the deer’s body. You hear a creak behind you, ignoring it until it grows louder, heavier, human like. Brandishing your knife you turn towards the noise, coming face to face with a ghost.

“Visery,” you murmur, the knife falling from your fingers.

“Hello sister, you look afraid to see me, perhaps you should be,” He replies, you note the two men standing behind him, swords in hand.

“You will be killed if you are found here you must leave,” you state, holding your voice level slowly backing towards where you had left your bow rested against a tree.

“I do not think I will be killed now that the Khal is dead. Or does the Queen of the sheepherders believe herself judge, jury and executioner in his stead,” he queeries following your footing.

“You did not think they were so common when you married me off to them on my 18th name day” you reply

“You are lucky I did not marry you off younger,” he spits “Your husband is dead, for what now almost a year? And what reason do you give for not bringing me back? Allowing me the army I bought with you,”

“He is not,” you begin

“Do not lie to me!” he shouts, eyes shutting in rage, allowing you to put a hand on your weapon “It’s never worked out for you,”

‘I am not the same little girl you left here,” you reply, taking your bow and aiming it at him, his eyes going black.

“Eddard Stark is dead. The Lannisters hold Kings Landing captive,” he effortlessly relays the information you had known for months, “the young wolf wages war from the north. He is the fourth person to declare himself a king. You, now widowed, will fulfil your duty to me, and our family by ensuring I take back the iron throne, and reinstate the greatest lineage westeros has ever seen,”

“And how shall I fulfil such a duty?” you spit, the arrow string pulling on your hand. “I have already procured my army, what else of mine would you try and take,”

“An army” he laughs “you would be lucky if half didn't die of fright on the passage over”

“They have more courage than you ever had,”

“Not enough to take back what I want, nor would they do it for me, No I need an army that fights for me, not you,”

“I will not leave my Khalasar behind, after everything? This is my…”

“Your home,” he mocks, but you keep your aim true “very well if you must be difficult, men,” he calls out, as another two sell swords appear with Irri bound.

“Irri” you whisper, dropping your bow,

“Khaleesi,” she cries out softly

“Let her go,” you threatened retaking your stance

“Her fate is in your hands my dear sister, drop your weapon and come with me now, and I will return this whore to your tribe,”

“What trust of mine have you earned,” you retort , fingers itching to release

“When have I ever lied to you,” Visery says sickeningly sweet , hand tracing along Irris cheek.

You lower your bow, as you hear the brush rustle behind you, something flies by grazing your neck. Your hand reaches up feeling a quil embedded in your skin, you bring your fingers into view a deep blue mixed with crimson, staining purple on your fingers. You look at Irri, her eyes are the last thing you see before dropping to the ground.

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

Water drips down splattering nearby, the dull thunk slowly rousing you from your dreamless sleep. Mould, salt and damp fill your senses, as the dryness of your mouth finally causes your eyes to open. The world is blurry as you push yourself up from the bed taking in your surroundings, a bucket in the corner, water speckling the floor, but no other indication as to where you were. You retch as you stand, but force the bile back down. Your legs wobble as you move towards the door, feeling the ground shift beneath you with each step the effects of the poison still coursing through your veins. You push open the door, only to be greeted by further darkness, cracks of light seeping out from the door at the top of the staircase guiding you forward. You grip a damp pillar as you shuffle towards the stairs. Each step you take breathes new life into a theory you prayed was not true. Your vision tunnels and your heart beats up into your ears as you push the door open.

Water breaks loudly against wood, the shouts of men follow, only to die out on the wind. You look up trying to steady your breath as the world around you spins. Lightning breaks between the clouds, rain falling down onto cracked lips, as the gulls cry out above. You return your gaze to the horizon, land was nowhere to be seen, everything consumed by the great blue vastness. You look around at the crew working to keep the vessel upright, lightning catches Viserys silver hair, as the thunder rumbles above. The sounds had never scared you, you were born from a storm. Lightning ran through your veins.

“Why?” you ask voice straining, as you turn him around to face you. The rain falling down your face mixing with the tears forming in your eyes.

“We are heading at this very moment to Westeros, sweet sister. Come now, this is the least you owe me after banishing me,’ he replies calmly, guiding you back down below the deck.

“They were going to kill you, I spared your life, was that not enough, or do I owe you mine as well?” You enunciate clearly. He raises his hand causing you to flinch, but he brings it down to caress your face.

“We're going home, where we belong, where our kingdom awaits us” he replies, you search for sense in his eyes, but delusions of grandeur masked reality.

“We are not safe in Westeros. Need I remind you dear brother that Robert Baratheon ordered us killed, and had Jorah not intervened I would be dead, poisoned by wine,” you relay, hoping he sees sense.

“Look at me sister everything has been leading to this very moment. Robert Baratheon, traitorous usurper he is, is dead and rumours grow that his bloodline is not his own, born of incest,”

“The Targaryens…”, you begin.

“Don’t lecture me on our family's history. That's not the point, do you know what is, or has being amongst the horse breeders made you dim?” He spits. Being amongst the Dothraki had left you more skilled, and more capable than ever. Readings of your youth had left you with a strategic ability that had helped Drogo with his conquests. His teaching you to ride and use a bow allowed you to fight alongside him, as your foremothers once had on dragon back. You were not the same child Visery pushed around two years prior. You knew of loss and grief and anguish. Of honour and power, and manipulation, of respect and how to command it. More importantly you had learnt how to survive in a world built for men.

“It means that we… that you are now the only person with a viable claim to the throne,”

“Exactly,” he replies smiling once again.

“Then why take me, I had an army I could have raised and fought for you across the sea,” He scoffs “You can hardly raise your husband from the dead,”

“Careful” you reply, fist clenching, you legs finally adjusted to the sea's movements.

“Or what?” He asks. Taking a step forward, and you calm yourself, “That's what I thought, you may not be a true dragon, but you can be married off as one,” he explains.

“Again,” you scoff, “I doubt anyone in Westeros has need for a used bride from a dying lineage”

“An ancestral lineage, a martyred lineage, but a forgotten lineage? No, that we are not. Those in King's Landing despise the Lannister’s, and with Robert no longer present they want them dead, gone, they want us on the throne,” he relays, blindly optimistic, unable to see the naivety in his beliefs.

“And you believe that, that they will rejoice for a family that burnt innocents, ” you question

“They love us,” he emphasises, the look in his eyes leaving no room for argument.

“And you wish to marry me to one of these supposed allies in King's Landing?” you press.

“Don’t be dense I received a letter two weeks back from lady Catelyn Stark,”

“The Starks” you laugh shaking your head, “who betrayed us in the war? Whose house was cut down by our father,”

“And who protected our lineage afterwards. Eddard Stark hid us, sent us here to be safe, he never told a soul of the hand he played in our escape until now upon his death. The recent attempt on your life, he tried to stop Robert and his small council, lest he allow the two children he risked his honour to save perish anyways,”

“How do you know this is true,” you ask as he hands you the letter

“I assume you remember how to read,”

“I spent most of my childhood reading for the maesters, it's not something you forget overnight,” you murmur, scanning the note, the seal was true, but broken. Perhaps you were the trading piece necessary for Lady Stark's daughter's return, the last of the Targaryens given to the Lannisters to finish the job started by the kingslayer.

“Eddard voted against our murder, Robert for them, and now both are dead. Those left behind are at war with each other. Fortunately it has presented us with a great opportunity to unite our house and seek revenge on the Lannister’s who have taken everything from us, and who threaten to take everything from them. The eldest, Robb Stark, wages war in honour of his father, and to regain his sister from the deadly claws of the lion and unlike the other kings at war, he remains unmarried,” Visery continues, as you look up from the letter.

“So you wish me to sail halfway across the world to try to entice him,” you remark.

“He need not be enticed. The letter confirms it, you will be married once you arrive so long as you are deemed fit. As such, there will be no mention of your life here, Drogo never existed, your child never existed. You will show no signs of the brutish activities of war that you have carelessly partaken in. You are to act pure, untouched do you understand me,” he asks, any gentleness, or mocking, had dissolved into vitriol. You meet his gaze, fury painted across your brow.

“So nothing of my life prior existed? Everything I accomplished, everything I was and am and everyone I love ceases to exist, and for what,” you pose.

“They were nothing, nothing important,” he soothes, “mere pawns in the grand scheme of things, You will forget them once I sit on the throne,” he states wiping the tear from your cheek, as you stare daggers at him. You would never forget them, not even in death. “Do not weep, I have allowed one thing from your past on board, third door to the right, don’t say I never do anything for you,” he shouts walking back up the stairs barking orders at the crew. You push the door open and Jorah looks up from his hands.

“Tell me you did not plot this behind my back,” you ask calmly, as he comes to kneel before you.

“Khaleesi, never in a thousand life times would I betray you. My loyalty to you runs thicker than any other. I was preparing for our meeting when my spies returned information of your brother's re-appearance. I went to the docks, but by the time I learnt of his intention It was too late, In that way I have failed you, but I have never plotted against you,” he relays eyes on the floor.

“You have never given me reason for doubt, rise Ser Mormont, what scene did you happen upon at the docks,” you ask and he stands,

“Four sell swords, two carried you, one kept Irri in chains, the other lead the path towards the boat, it was premeditated, and i was ill informed of his whereabouts,”

“Irri?” you question

“They were taking her to Slaver's Bay, but I managed to intervene, with luck she returned safely to the Khalasaar on your mare. Visery was adamant on you getting onto the boat. He told me to depart or to join, and I swore to protect you, until you sat on the iron throne. I remain loyal in that vow to you. I will not allow you to go into uncharted territories with no one but Visery to guide you. Though you need little guidance these days, and you are more a leader than he,”

“Do not let him hear that, best I remain helpless, less reason for my head on a spike. I am glad you are here with me Jorah,” you state taking his hands in yours “I will need at least one ally as I wander into the wilderness,” you finish dropping them gently. “What do you know of him, the self proclaimed king in the north,”

“I hear that he is anything but self- proclaimed that his men elected him, and that is he is undefeated in the battlefield. I have heard he rides a dire wolf to battle, and that if the timing is right, he himself can turn into one,” he replies, smiling as you laugh at the supposed mythos. “In truth, if the young wolf is anything like his father, he will be a strong ally, and a good man”

“Despite his banishing you,” you ask.

“I deserved the banishment, I deserved more than that, he could have sent me to the wall, or had my head,”

“He still does if you return, you understand the risk of coming here with me,”

“I know you will convince them to spare me, I trust you with my life Khaleesi,”

“Well it eases my mind at least that he has your approval, and what of the rest of the north's allies? I find it hard to believe we are not to be targeted the moment our feet hit the soil,”

“You were a target in Essos, you are a target anywhere Khaleesi. Anyone with a reliable claim to the throne is,”

“Robert Baratheon's bastards included?” you question

“I would say they take precedent in the Lannisters kill list considering the small council believes you dead,” he replies, a bitterness on hig tongue for the role he played in informing them of your survival, your movements and until the very last minute your death.

“At least for now,” you reply.

“I have something for you, from the market, I managed to retrieve them before we left,” he turns, pulling a set of five books, covered in light silvers and purple, bound in leather. “Three are the histories of the great houses in the north, one is of the dragon age, and the last is in ancient warfare. The strategies may help you gain footing with the king in the North, I have heard he appreciates a woman with an opinion,”

“For all our sakes, I hope that is true. I fear I won't last long in a docile role,” you reply, hands running over the indents of the titles. Jorah bows and you exit his room, books in hand. Planning on sharpening the only weapon you had left in hopes of impressing the Northerners.

White Harbour

Your boat sits in the harbour, cold air seeps through the wood, a cold you had not felt in your lifetime. Your blood ran warm, but even you shivered here. You had managed to read two of the books “Great Houses of the North,” and “Strategies of the First Age,” during the journey, currently reading the “Northern Myths, Religion and Customs”.

The luxury of language was a privilege many were not afforded. When you were under the care of the Maesters in Essos they had taught you to transcribe documents while Visery trained with a blade, a craft he had never managed to master, useless as he was at most things. Where he failed you had flourished, learning High Valyrian, Braavosi, Volanteen and myrish, along with the common tongue, it was one of the reasons Dothraki came so easily to you. Hours were spent learning histories of the land, every folk tale and true account, the great strategies and failed takeovers, instances of magic and fraud, all of it had passed your irises.

Learning was a habit you’d never quit even after Visery forced you to run away in the middle of the night with whispers of better things. You remember, the look in the Maesters eye as he watched you go, Visery threatening to kill you if he didn’t let you pass. He handed you a book titled “the dragon age,” whispering “Valar Morghulis” as Visery pulled you away into the night. Written in high valyrian Visery saw no use for it, and sold it before you could finish the history of your family. The money was enough to buy a ticket to Pentos where you lived with Illyrio Mopatis who groomed you for marriage and sold you to Drogo as soon as he could to secure Visery an army. An army that had turned to you. Your readings had helped you with Drogo, helped you show your usefulness besides a womb. Perhaps it would do the same for the king in the north.

You're deep in the history of Winterfell, reading the mythos of the old gods, and the children of the forest, you run your fingers over the paper, shadowed figures hiding between the trees that seemingly stare back at you unblinking, blue orbs for eyes that glow bright in the dark. You jump when the door opens, turning to see Visery.

“Cease your senseless readings, no amount of time with the words of intellectuals will make you as such. You should have spent more time making yourself look acceptable, but this will have to do,” Visery sighs as you painstakingly look up from your book.

“Is there any other reason for your pleasant company or did you drop in to hurl insults at me,” you query.

“She is here, awaiting you,” he states, gesturing for you to stand. You close your book, dropping it to the side allowing him to smooth the fabric of your dress. You follow him out up towards the main deck, the waters are calm now, the rain turned to a mist, fogging the limited light provided. His hand digs into your arm as you reach the last step, “do not fail me,” he whispers.

“When have I ever failed this family,” you retort, eyes meeting his, knowing his hand would not raise prior to such an important meeting. You shake free of his grasp and walk slowly towards a cloaked figure, who turns to face you. The lanterns' flames illuminate orange hair bright against the deep blue fabric of her cloak. Gloved hands reached up pulling down her hood, her head was held high despite the weight you felt pressing down on her, strength for her children wielding her on through sorrow. A sorrow you knew well enough to identify in others.

“Lady Stark” you curtsey “it is my great honour to be in your presence. Thank you for your hospitality and your courage. Welcoming us is a brave thing to do,” you state, rising to full height.

“Such times call for a risk. May I have a moment alone with her,” she asks, and her guards step out. Perhaps this was all a clever ploy, a way to pull the two remaining Targaryens from hiding, and finally be rid of them. She circles you, eyeing your every movement. You wonder if she hears your heart race.

“Well he cannot fault your beauty, and for most men that is enough, but I fear my son is not exhilarated at the notion of an arranged marriage,’ She replies, a smile tight on her lips.

‘I understand my lady,’ you state as she comes to stand before you again.

‘Do you?” she questions, brows knitting together.

“I have long been aware of the hardships of marriage, I know many are not made for love. Love is not what I expect,” you relay, watching for a reaction, any reaction, but she remains neutral.

“And what do you expect, Lady Targaryen?” she presses, this marriage was a critical step towards victory, but even so, she would not risk her son's life.

“Respect,” you state “I am capable my lady, in more ways than one, and I expect to be treated as an equal,”

“Capabilities, and what such talents do you possess?” She asks

“I am a capable horse rider, tracker and hunter. I am fluent in six languages, and have used these skills to study the history of our world. Most importantly the great strategists, just in case I ever longed to return to the west. Your late husband was amongst them. I am sorry for your loss from what my brother says he was a good man, and that we owe him our lives. I am only sorry I was too late to thank him in person,” you relay earnestly.

“He was a great man,” she corrects, emotion finally coming through, “strong, honourable, fiercely loyal and I will not have the Lannister’s paint him out to be anything but that,” she replies, a fury sparking beneath her words.

“Upon that we have common footing, the Lannisters have taken those we love from us Lady Stark, unjustly, and without retributions,” you reply

“If you succeed and the iron throne is won, what happens then?” She presses

“My brother will take his rightful place as ruler of the kingdoms, my Lady,”

“You do not want it for yourself?”

“Even if I did, he is the eldest male heir, it is not mine to lose. When we succeed I will return to the north and aid in any way I can as a repayment to your current kindness, and the kindness shown by your husband in saving my life,”

“Jorah Mormont, banished for a time by my husband now serves you,”

“I am aware of his previous misgivings, but he has changed in my opinion. I have witnessed him free many men and woman whilst in my presence, and his loyalty to me has proven unshakable, I would trust him with my life,”

“He is your responsibility,”

“One I do not take lightly, he is a reflection of me, I have no army to offer Lady Stark, no great riches, but I have a name, and that has often been enough for victory,”

“And what of the North?” She asks, eyes meeting yours.

“The North will remain free if that is what you wish, you have my word,” you relay.

“Guards,” She calls out, finally breaking eye contact with you “help lady Targaryen pack her things, and bring her some warm clothes, she’ll freeze in the gauze she’s wearing, escort her and her brother to the camp” she states, watching you curtsey once again, you movements exact, precise planned. There was a confidence behind your violet eyes, as was a sentiment of loss, and sorrow that had been cleverly masked by strength and an aura that captured a room. One she had noted by the change in her own guards posture as you walked out.

“Thank you my lady from myself and my brother,” you smile, turning to follow her guards below deck. Perhaps it was your natural ability to dictate a moving speech to her, or the skills you had listed, but she felt you were hiding behind something. Your walls were high, despite your apparent openness something lay beneath the surface, whether good or bad she had yet to decipher. Any unfounded doubts must be pushed aside, but kept under a watchful eye, this marriage must first be secured.

“Bring them at night, we don't want them to be seen just yet,” she whispers to a guard, looking over her shoulder to see Visery, whose sickly charming smile from earlier had faded to a scowl.

The night is dark as you wander across frosted grass towards your tent, illuminated in a faint glow by a circular hearth the sits beside a small bed. Visery barges in just as you enter.

“You cannot possibly be here to complain, considering the success of that meeting,” you relay, already tiring of his energy.

“Oh I have plenty to complain about, insolence was rife, I am shocked Lady Stark did not pick up on it. Though with each passing hour the northmen prove true to their description of wild beasts,” he spits

“You should not speak ill of those showing kindness, nor should you say it so freely and loudly with such ease,” you whisper pointedly.

“Oh they will be well convinced after your promise to maintain a free north,” he shoots back, the reason for his mood finally exposed.

“It was written in her letter I assumed it was agreed upon,” you argue calmly.

“Everything is agreed upon, until it is not,” he replies inches away from you now.

“I have been here for an hour and can see they will not relinquish their stronghold, they are far too proud for that,” you reply, eyes staring into the hearth, ignoring his proximity to you.

“Insolence against,” spittle hitting your face.

“A woman having sense is insolence,” you retorted, gaze finally meeting his.

“You made a promise on my behalf, it is my kingdom I make the rulings,” he shouts petulantly.

“She would not allow…”

“You have no right to state what is and is not allowed! I am the king,” he roars, grabbing you by the throat, and throwing you down to the ground. Perhaps you should have allowed Drogo to kill your brother when he had the chance. The thought pases through your mind as you turn back towards him, skin burning as you push up onto your elbows. “For twenty years we have remained hidden across the sea, kept a secret from Westeros while the man who murdered our entire lineage sat upon the iron throne ruling the seven kingdoms when it should have been me. I will not give up even one tree to the northmen when I have claimed what is mine, and you will stand by me, or you will burn,” he whispers viciously, pushing you back down and striding out of your tent, as you watch from the floor.

#robb stark x oc #robb stark fic #robb stark x reader #robb stark x you #robb stark x y/n #robb x reader #game of thrones fic #game of thrones fanfiction #robb stark au #robb stark fanfiction #robb stark

123 notes · View notes