#eva air manage booking

[radiokathryn-if]

DEMO ☯︎ FAQ ☮︎ DIRECTORY ♪

Nate Nicks has disappeared.

Why should you care? Do you?

You probably should, considering he's the face and host of your extremely popular radio show and you've just landed one of the biggest contracts of your careers.

You are a sound tech engineer and a damn good one at that, while Nate was the face you were the sound, usually your work is strictly behind the scenes, except for the odd occasion when you were needed on air. So when Nate goes missing and you're tasked with filling in his shoes you're practically thrown in at the deep end.

It only gets worse after a missing persons case becomes a murder case and the cast and crew of Radio Kathryn and FloNote Ent become the suspect pool...

RADIO KATHRYN is rated 18+ for explicit language, explicit sexual scenes and references, themes of death and blood, use of alcohol and drugs, physical abuse and violence. please check trigger warnings.

The setting of the 70s is purely for aesthetic and technology. Don't expect era—accurate racism or homophobia as it won't be included in this IF.

FEATURES ☯︎ [ Trigger Warnings ]

fully customise your MC! name, gender&pronouns (M/F/NB), appearance, personality

decide your on air persona──can you hack it in the limelight or will you crack under the pressure?

build your relations──do you get along with your fellow teammates? how about your fanbase? or your company?

+your radio teams backstory──how the four of you (Nate, José, Mica and yourself) got along, created the pirated radio show, how you got signed into legality, how everything went to shit... or not?

romance someone (or not)──featuring eight solo routes and two poly routes OR just enjoy the mystery and figure out a murder!

chose paths that affect the game──your choices matter, and the ending you may or may not get is dependent on them.

decide which kathryn is your mother──and your relationship with her. (Catherine, Kate, Cathy, Katherine or Rynnie)

CHARACTER BREAKDOWN ☮︎ [ RO Intros ]

The Man, The Myth, The Legend. [???]

“Nate Nicks” Nathan Nicholson──he/him. 28. Radio Kathryn's host and front man, adored by thousands. Complete arsehole but somehow it makes him endearing to others. Cocky son of a bitch that let fame get to his head... or is he? Nevertheless, he's missing now and you may have something to do with it.

think a mix between gauge burek and chris veres in druck (2019)

The Benefactor.

“Mr Robinson” Lionel Robinson──he/him. 42. The man who funded your radio show, the one who got you to where you are. Kind, calm and considerate, especially with Nate. But every one has a line to cross at some point and Mr Robinson is not someone to get angry.

think chad michael murray in sullivan's crossing (2023)

The Fiancé. [RO]

“Eva Vidal” Evangeline Vidal──she/her. 25. The woman who's been there from the beginning, your first listener, your first fan. You used to be closer but Nate sunk his teeth in her and pulled her away. You watched her steadily lose her glow and for someone engaged she seems quite jaded at the news of her missing fiancé.

think penélope cruz in vanilla sky (2001) or vicky christina barcelona (2008)

The Best Friend. [RO]

“Mica Hollens” Michael/a Hollens──he/him, she/her. your age (24─28). Your voice of reason in the chaos of life and Radio Kathryn's manager. Your support system and rock, even if they are a bit quick to jump the bullet in your honour. Mica has strong opinions and Nate has never been in their good books, but surely they wouldn't do anything to jeopardise your job.

think tanaya beatty in through black spruce (2018) or alex meraz in mine games (2012)

The Detective. [RO]

“Detective Han” Han Jimin──he/him or she/her. 30. The detective assigned to Nate's missing persons case. They are meticulous and goal oriented and their current goal is figuring you and your work family out. The more you resist the more they're intrigued and the more you help the more you unravel them.

think lee soohyuk in tomorrow (2022) or lee siyoung in sweet home (2020)

The Rival DJ. [RO]

“José Danger” Jose/phine Jeager──she/her or they/them. 26. Nate calls them the traitor─the defector. They used to be part of your team, a co-host with Nate in your beginning days. The two of them worked like magic until Nate was in demand more and José was kicked to the curb. You wonder if the festering grudge they left with is still there... and if it still extends to you.

think zazie beetz in deadpool 2 (2018) or wounds (2019)

The "Hater". [RO]

“Ji Han” Han Ji Young──he/him. 24. The younger brother of Detective Han. Ji Han is not a fan of Nathaniel Nicholson but he is a fan of the songs he plays─or rather the ones you play when he's absent. He's taken the utmost interest in his siblings case, suspiciously enough to become entangled in it more than anticipated.

think a mix of choi san (2022-23) and lee dohyun in 18 again (2020) or the glory (2022)

The "Fan". [RO]

“Fauve” Faye─Mauve Langham──she/her. 25. Fauve is a bit of a groupie, she can admit. She's not totally obsessed with Radio Kathryn, she reasons, she's just invested in the show and even more so in the people behind it. Fauve become more involved in the case of Nate Nicks than she's wanted, leaving you to wonder just what it is that keeps her going─even to the edge of insanity.

think a mix of imogen poots in need for speed (2014) and hayden panettiere in nashville (2012-18)

The Family Man. [RO]

“Mr Lewis” Jackson Lewis──he/him. 33. The night shift receptionist-slash-building coordinator. He usually brings his daughter to sit in on show recordings, seeing as she's got a bit of a crush on Nate─he's a no-bullshit kind of man but his soft spot is his daughter's puppy dog eyes. He just so happens to be the last person to see Nate before he disappeared and you can't help but get the feeling he's not being truthful in his statement about it.

think brian tyree henry in eternals (2021) or atlanta (2016-22)

The Question Mark. [???]

"Who?" ??? ???──unknown.

it'll be revealed later!

©️ bonnie berry 2023────@moretinyideas

──the polymances are between eva and ??? (eva???) as well as fauve and ji han (fauhan)!

──this is totally inspired by episode 2.8 of sister boniface "dead air" but other than the idea of a radio show called Radio Catherine there are no other similarities!

[jynxpsiche]

Can I request a tangerine x reader??

SURE NO PROB! Hope u all like it!! <3 <3 sorry if it’s short.

Paired with a crush

💌. Summary: Tangerine knew who you were, and he also knew how good and professional you were at your job…

or

…Tangerine gets paired up with his crush.

💌. Warning: female reader, canon gore, not canon events, fluff, reader’s code name is Ruby, slightly suggestive, mdni. English is not my first language! I don’t know many British slangs!

“Bruv, you sure ya okay?” Lemon’s voice reached his brother’s ears, trying to wake him up from his trance.

Lemon noticed how Tangerine’s figure completely froze when he read a message on his phone. It felt uncharacteristically from him, being completely still and silent for such a long time.

Is he having a heart attack? Thought Lemon, his gaze still locked on his brother.

Slowly, trying not to scare him off, the man approached his brother’s figure, standing still in the middle of the living room.

Just a few minutes ago, the curly-haired man was simply reading a book on the couch when a little ‘ping’ from his phone caught his attention.

With an annoyed groan the man rose from his comfortable position on the couch and picked his phone, which was on the armchair.

Lemon simply observed the scene unfazed since he didn’t discovered any signs of a strange behaviour from his brother. But things changed when the other man checked the phone.

At first the room had fallen into a strange silence, no longer the comfortable silence of before but one that managed to put anyone in the room in awe.

Time seemed to have slowed down and it was also the outside that fell silent. If before Lemon could hear a few cars passing by or simply the urban noises of the city, now even those had suddenly died down and disappeared into thin air.

Very few things in their career had managed to silence Tangerine noticeably. Other things, however, had him talking until Lemon's head burst.

And the subject of his conversations was always her.

Lemon knew by heart the story of how Tangerine had first met the girl, always specifying how his was only an initial hatred that gradually became simple tolerance.

Ruby. This was the name constantly present on his lips.

Firstly, Lemon heard how Tangerine called her an insufferable girl, overconfident and convinced she was better than everyone else.

But afterwards... the situation had completely changed.

He had heard how she had managed to eliminate an entire organisation, kill the boss and complete the job in the shortest possible time. A single week.

Tangerine rarely spoke well of other people, but she was clearly an exception.

Lemon often teased him, just for the fun of it. "Ya only eva talk ‘bout her, ya ‘ave a crush?" But each time the curly-haired man denied it.

It was perfectly normal for him to appreciate the talents of another colleague. The only problem was that Tangerine never made appreciations about others. Only he didn't realise it.

“Mate, the fuck ya doin’?” Asked annoyed Lemon, tired of seeing his brother’s frozen figure in the middle of the living room. With a deep sigh he took place on the large couch, remote control in hand. “I really wan’ta watch Thomas, but I fuckin’ can’t with you in the fuckin’ way.” He said through clenched teeth, irritation evident in his words.

Finally Tangerine woke up from his trance and dumbfoundedly his wide gaze fell on his brother, who was looking at him annoyingly.

With a raise of his eyebrows, the man once again demanded an explanation. Quickly the brother showed his own phone, which was open on a phone number. His contractor for that job.

“Wha’ I’m s’ppos’d to be lookin’ at?” Asked Lemon, a bored expression on his face while his eyes lazily read the message.

With a trembling finger, due to adrenaline and excitement, Tangerine pointed at a specific word, more exactly a phrase.

“You won’t be working alone. You’re partner for this job will be Ruby.” Read the man from the couch but his expression still bewildered. “I still don’t understand, bruv.”

A groan coming from the standing man echoed through the room. Tangerine irritatedly pinched his nose bridge, hoping to calm down a little. “Ya bell end, it’s her.”

His brother only stared at him as if he had grown two heads. “‘m not followin’ mate.”

“Ruby! It’s her. I’ve been partnered up with her!” The man shouted under his breath, eyes wide and full of an enthusiasm that looked too strange on him. He was like a child on Christmas.

Lemon still did not speak. His confusion was still too evident on his face. Yet he should know who his brother was talking about.

Then Heureka.

It was like a lightbulb lightened up on his head. At the same time his eyes grew bigger and his mouth opened wide. “Ooh…got it, got it…” his head bouncing a couple of times in an affermative motion.

Tangerine was ready to answer his brother harshly when his phone rang with an incoming call. An unknown number.

“Who’s it?” Lemon asked pretending to care when in reality his attention was on the television, Thomas & Friends now playing.

“I don’t fuckin’ know— hello, the fuck ya want?” Tangerine answered the phone and the unwelcoming tone he used showed clearly his high irritation and the no patience left.

“Is this how you talk to work partners?” The frown on his face immediately shifted into a stunned expression. The voice from the other side of phone was the most angelic one he ever heard.

He had only watched her from afar, never really interacted with her. That meant that he also never have heard her voice either.

He always imagined how her voice would have been, but his dreams could never be compared to her real voice.

And that first interaction with her left him speechless.

He had always planned his first meeting with the girl. He hoped he could charm the girl with his charm and maybe invite her out. But apparently luck was not on his side.

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, Tangerine. Even if not in person, for now.” Spoke the voice again, this time waking the man from his temporary trance.

Tangerine cleared his throat, “M’apologise love, wasn’t my intention to speak t’ya like that.” He explained sheepishly. His tone wasn’t his usual one, the rude and annoyed one, but one more submitted and apologetical. Almost…gentle.

Lemon often glanced up at him, unimpressed.

“It’s fine. Now let’s talk about the job.” Ordered the voice from the other side.

Tangerine nodded his head multiple times. “A’right, love.” And off he was, into his office, his figure followed for a short amount of time by Lemon’s unbothered eyes.

Everything needed to go as planned. No one had to fuck up and nothing had to stop them.

They had spent a lot of time on analysing every detail of the job, in order to avoid inconveniences and notarlo failure. The pay was pretty high, so they had to do a proper job.

The contractor, when contacted the two, explained them the type of job: apparently a well-know mafia boss of France had organised a ball in which were invited criminals from all over the world. His intention was to present a poisonous gas capable of killing a large army with the smallest dose.

A woman and a man were standing outside a large villa, where music was blasted from inside.

The two were arm in arm and wore extremely elegant clothes, perfect for the occasion.

“Are you ready, mister Tangerine?” the lady smirked at the man beside her, a confident sparkle in her eyes.

“Always ready, love.” He smirked back.

When they entered the ball room they were pervaded by smoke and loud chatter from the other guests.

Warm lights illuminated the entire room, showing off all the baroque details of the place.

With confident steps, the couple advanced through the room, their arms still entwined with each other and a polite smile on both faces. They had to give a very good impression and not arouse any kind of suspicion.

Their gazes keenly observed the entire environment, the people and especially the blind spots in the room. They could not afford mistakes.

Instinctively, Tangerine abandoned the grip of their arms and encircled her colleague's waist, displaying a strong and secure hold.

That action did not bother the girl; on the contrary, she tried to get as close to his body as possible. Because she felt safe with him.

“A’right love, seen the target yet?”

Their job was to identify the person responsible for selling the poison, kill him as quietly as possible and finally steal all the information concerning the poison.

If they wanted, they could have also blew everyone up once they had completed the main tasks of the job. But they had to remain professional.

The woman analysed each guest, her eyes scanning every little detail in order to find the one described in the documents received.

But there were so many people that it was lightly complicated than normal. His body moved a little closer to that of the man by her side. His cologne immediately reaching her nose.

It would have been a lie to say that she was not attracted to him.

“Nothing. It’s like he’s not even here.” Then something clicked on her mind.

Of course the target wasn’t there!

While the party was going, his job was to anticipate the spread of poison on a global scale. This whole party was just a whole cover.

Suddenly, she brought her face closer to his, her breath tickling his ear. A small smile on her face, to disguise themselves and to not let the cover blow up.

“Most likely he’s not here because he needs to sell the gas earlier, all over the world.” She explained, his eyes fluttering close briefly due to her proximity.

The heart in his chest started beating wildly, as if he had just finished running a marathon.

But in reality he was simply in a sumptuous, baroque-style hall, teeming with people whose intent was simply to shift their attention elsewhere.

Oh, how he wished they could be the only one there. And dance together all the night.

In each other arms.

With a sharp look he scanned the room again, noticing something unusual.

The number of bodyguards was even, as it was well known that the boss did not like odd numbers. According to him, they were bad luck.

Therefore he had decided to place two bodyguards every six metres throughout the hall. But then why were there as many as three bodyguards near one wall?

Something was not right.

"Let's try lookin’ there," he whispered. The girl gave him a confused sideways glance "What? And why?" "Just a guess.”

As his hand gently gripped at her waist, they gracefully moved around the large hall trying to attract as little attention as possible.

Her ample dress sparkled slightly, emphasising the strong colour of the dress. It was very difficult for Tangerine to maintain attention. His grip tightened slightly.

The girl understood her colleague's intentions, having also noticed the unusual position of the three bodyguards.

Now all that was needed was to find a distraction.

But someone up there surely was helping them since a dispute nearby drawn the three bodyguards’ attention.

Swiftly, the couple slipped into the hidden entrance of the hall, initially finding themselves in a simple corridor. Neither a door nor a soul. The corridor was completely empty.

The two began to walk down the dimly lit corridor, walking as lightly as possible on the floor. Surely their intention was not to attract the attention of the guards.

The corridor extended a few more metres and then continued to the left, where it ended in a security door.

A code was required to enter.

“I got it” she said under her breath, pulling a little bottle spray from between her breasts. The perfect hiding spot thought Tangerine with a satisfied look.

The door creaked open and the couple was met with a dark laboratory.

Long, thin shelves filled with vials containing yellowish liquid ran along the entire front wall. Machines were positioned on several metal tables. But no sign of the scientist responsible.

However, a strong smell of chemicals and smoke could still be smelled in the air, a sign that the machinery had recently been switched off.

The feminine figure gracefully wondered around the immense laboratory, observing closely the vials. The man behind her approached a cabinet in a corner.

“This isn’t what we’re looking for. These are just wrong prototypes.” She exclaimed, picking a vial between her fingers.

Tangerine only hummed approvingly, immediately losing interest in the empty cabinet. But something caught his attention.

One of the shelves seemed shallow compared to the others and only an experienced eye would have noticed this.

Tapping the bottom of the shelf with his hand, Tangerine noticed the wall moving slightly. With his fingers he managed to move the bottom, revealing a black button.

Suddenly the locker opened with a slight click and promptly Tangerine opened the new entrance with both hands.

From the back of the new entrance he heard the clatter of some metal objects. A whispered mutter prompted the man to move.

Without wasting any time he hurried down the narrow dark corridor, following the noise coming from the other side. One hand was already ready on the gun hidden in his trousers.

But before he could leap into action, a bullet grazed his cheekbone. A cry of exasperation escaped his lips. “Tan-“ she was calling out for him but in a second his figure was running back, where she was.

His voice interrupted hers “Ruby! Ruby! Take cover!”another bullet now grazed his tight.

Both of them were on either side of the door, their backs to the wall and their heads turned towards the entrance.

Quick bullets flew all the way down the corridor to the entrance, preventing the two from controlling the situation.

“We need to rush in!” “Ya crazy! D’ya hav’ a death wish or som’thin’?” “Tangerine it’s the only way in! You have better ideas?!” The man only looked at her, his blue eyes pierced into hers “Just…just please Ruby, don’ get hurt.”

The woman smiled sweetly at him “You can call me (Y/n)” she said before jumping in action.

He followed her figure with a love sick look in his eyes.

a/n !

I know I know shitty ending, didn’t really know how to end this one. I still hope you all liked it and sorry if I’m posting frequently but I’m not home right now!

Love you all and take care! <3

[melodramaticatheart]

Apple Picking

Jacks may not have a use for apples anymore but that doesn't stop Evangeline from making apple pie.

Pairing: Jacks of The Hollow x Evangeline Fox Word Count: 505 Book: Once Upon A Broken Heart Trilogy Author's Note: This is so cute, like for me this is cannon no I will not change my mind. Taglist: @reminiscentreader, @urbanflorals, @nqds, @art-of-fools, @lxvebelle, @nuncscioquidsitamor-14

Evangeline hummed making her way down the long line of apple trees. It was late morning when she’d searched for Jacks and said she was going to pick some apples for the rest of the morning. Jacks not wanting to be left alone with the baby dragons, decided to join her. The Inn was having a slow day, leaving time for Eva to make a new favorite, apple pie. Jacks had rolled his eyes at her new baking obsession especially when she teased him about his old obsession for it, little did she know she was the reason he didn’t eat them anymore. 

Placing a soft kiss on her neck, he now also made his way down the path filled with the familiar aroma of apples. “Jacks get that apple for me, please.” Evangeline said pointing to an apple on a higher branch. Jacks got the apple quickly, hiding it behind his back before Evangeline could grab it. “Jacks” Evangeline scolded, dragging the letters of his name in a disapproving way, “Give me the apple, I'm serious.” She tried her best to put on a serious face meaning her words. How cute she looked when trying to order me around, Jacks thought grinning from ear to ear. “This apple comes with a price, little Fox,” He said leaning in until they were eye to eye. “You do know there are hundreds of other apples I can choose instead, right?” Evangeline asked, but her gaze had softened leaning more into Jacks presence, their noses brushing. “Maybe, but wouldn’t you at least like to know the price well? More of a reward really.” A finger found its way to Evangeline’s mouth tracing it. Slowly Evangeline let the basket she’d been using to collect the apples fall, moving both of her hands to cup Jacks’s face bringing her lips to his brushing them lightly. Jacks pulled away, dropping the now forgotten apple into the basket before pulling Evangeline under the shade of a tree pressing her up against it, kissing her once more this time more intensely, each part of their bodies touching, the heat rushed to Evangeline’s cheeks her hands pulling jacks face closer. As if that was possible. The kiss ended abruptly, both of them needing air, the sound of their heavy breathing carrying off into the wind. That's when Evangeline heard the little roar come from behind Jacks. Knowing how Jacks would react she burst into a fit of giggles still blushing from the neck up. 

Jacks turned ever so slightly but just enough to catch sight of three baby dragons chasing vibrant blue butterflies, “Never a moment of peace here” He grumbled under his breath dragging a hand across his face. Evangeline kissed him on the cheek going to pick up her basket “Just admit it you like them!” She exclaimed from the middle of the path scratching a dragon behind his ear. Jacks could only manage an eye roll as he stalked off the shadow off the trees following a now smiling Evangeline.

[caileeflavoured]

typewriting hands

ben mears x fem!reader

© caileeflavoured 2024, do not repost, modify or translate!

synopsis: Watching Ben write his book all afternoon, you soon become bored and need to find a way to get him away from his damn typewriter.

a/n: so idk what happened to the original post from 2022 but it disappeared and who am I to deny people my writing from when it was actually good (not to suck my own dick but I was cooking back then). I actually have no fucking idea what this thing was even about so I won't provide any tw's, therefore, read at your own risk (it's probably 18+ so...)

wc: 999 words

MAIN MATERLIST | SALEM'S LOT

The air inside his small room was hot and stuffy. Pearls of sweat covered your entire body as you lay on his bed, still proud of yourself that you managed to somehow sneak past Eva Miller, the house owner, and avoid her no-girls-joining-male-guests-rule. 

You watched him type away on his typewriter, the constant clicking sound creating a meditative energy around you. Yet you weren’t as calm as you’d expected to be when you initially agreed to spending your free afternoon with Ben.

Your eyes wandered up and down his bare back, analyzing the way his muscles moved so elegantly and manly with each letter he pressed onto the paper. The light sheen of sweat made it glisten so perfectly, and with the slowly setting sun shining its warm light onto his light skin, he seemed to you like an angel sent to this awful town.

“Will you ever tell me what you’re writing?” You eventually interrupted the silence.

But Ben continued typing, a true master at ignoring exactly this question, no matter who asked.

You groaned, annoyed and bored as you rolled from your stomach onto your back, your short dress riding up your waist in the process. The faint breath of air coming from the open window hit your bare legs and crawled all the way up to your lower stomach.

You groaned again, this time on purpose, and with the intent to get his attention. You moved your head to the side, your cheek touching the hot covers of his bed as you watched him pause his writing for a second and rise his head before he eventually resumed the typing.

“Isn’t your afternoon writing session over already?” You asked as you looked at the clock hanging above the door. 

“Not yet,” was his simple, emotionless answer.

You were frustrated, growing needier for him the longer you watched his naked body. You hadn’t seen him in a while, and missed the feeling of his body pressed against yours. But even more so did you miss the simple sensation of sexual arousal, preferably caused by Ben.

So you had no chance but to help yourself out.

You pushed your panties down your legs and threw them towards him. He watched them fall to the ground next to his chair, but still didn’t care to give you any reaction.

“It’s so hot,” you whined, and that frustrated whine quickly changed and turned into a lewder one the moment your hand came into contact with your swollen clit.

All those thoughts about him and the memories of what he’d already done to you ever since he arrived in ‘Salem’s Lot a few weeks ago surely and obviously had an effect on you. They riled you up, leaving you needier than ever. 

Your fingers rubbed circles on your clit as you purposely put on a little show for him, not holding back any moans despite knowing of all the other guests in Eva Miller’s place. They already looked at Ben in a funny way anyway, they wouldn’t dare to ask any more questions if they heard female moans coming from his room.

His name fell from your lips as you indulged in the sweet pleasure coursing through your body. You felt that knot in your stomach tighten more and more as you brought yourself closer to your high, but it wasn’t just quite the same when it wasn’t Ben’s hand.

“Come join me,” you whimpered in between the moans, your eyes always glued to his muscular back, waiting for the moment he’d finally turn around.

But nothing. He shrugged his shoulders, seemingly immersed in writing his new book. 

Ugh, loving an author turned out to be anything but a whirlwind romance.

“You’re so- oh fuck! You’re so boring,” you cried out, feeling how you pushed yourself nearly over the edge.

“Uh-huh,” Ben commented, clearly not even listening to what was going on behind his back. 

“I- ugh! I’m so close, Ben,” you whimpered. “I’m gonna come!” And you did.

Your moans turned into high-pitched cries, your eyes never leaving his figure as the intense orgasm washed over you and then — finally. 

The typewriter’s clicking sounds could no longer be heard, and that was not because you drowned them out. No, the constant movement of his fingers had actually come to a halt, and his head turned slightly to the side — yet not far enough to catch a glimpse of your fucked-out frame.

Chest heaving, legs still slightly shaking, beads of sweat running down your temples, and a devilish little smile on your lips.

“You know I got more in me, Benny,” you challenged him. 

And finally won this round.

He got up from his chair, his erection already straining against his underwear, and walked up to you. “On your knees,” he demanded, his voice much darker and raspier than just moments ago.

You crawled up to the author, sitting right in front of him as he wished. Your eyes traveled over his sweaty torso, and down to his crotch, pure lust filling your eyes. 

Ben placed two fingers underneath your chin, tilting your head up to make you look into his eyes. The blue was already gone, his pupils so dilated you didn’t know if you’d ever seen them like that.

He licked his lips as he traced the curve of yours with his thumb, then pulled your face up to his. He trapped you in a longing, passionate kiss, immediately all tongue and teeth.

“Guess Eva Miller and her no-sex-rule can go to hell now,” you chuckled against his lips as your hand wandered down his bare abs and into his boxers.

It surely was going to be Ben Mears who could go to hell once the old lady caught wind of it, but the only thing he seemed to care about now was to make his little girl come a second time. And a third, and a fourth, and maybe even a fifth one.

Typewriting hands rarely got tired...

[ask-scribner]

Sneaking out of the restricted section, she pointed her wand and quietly muttered an incantation and smirked as the sound of a small explosion erupted toward the back of the library. She watched as a flurry of pages flew up into the air. Concealing the banned books under her robe, she approached the librarian’s desk.

“Looks like there’s been an incident, Madam Scribner. You better go take a look!” Eva informed her with the most solemn expression she could, barely managing to repress a cheeky smile.

Ah, Miss Fitzgerald, unless you're smuggling more than just audacity under that robe of yours now, I strongly suspect your involvement here is more than coincidental. Detention.

Lucky for you, I've been seeking a discerning reader for my newest work, 'Scrope's Desires: The Master's Crusty Sock.' It's a read that'll leave you breathless - and not just from the plot twists.

[thebirdandthebee]

Easy As

A Carmen Berzatto Universe

A/N: Here’s another request from my inbox - Carmen and Vanessa’s first date! This does not, however, include their first kiss. Feel free to slide more requests for these two my way :) Happy Sunday!

Vanessa Monaghan is the breath of fresh air that Carmen had been gasping for.

Chapter 20: Dancing Bears

Carmen shifted in his seat at Trunk Noodle. He and Vanessa had exchanged a few texts since meeting at the supermarket last week and while he’d felt confident enough walking her through the neighborhood grocer, he was now sweating bullets.

He’d been stressed all day, from texting Syd to let her know he’d need the night off to figuring out what to wear – and attempting to manage his curls when he desperately needed a haircut.

He’d suggested the restaurant, which was a hole in the wall Vietnamese place in West Loop from which he frequently ordered takeout. He’d arrived 10 minutes early and was greeted by the staff warmly. They knew Carmen as a customer and a chef, and reassured him he always had a table.

At 7 p.m. on the dot, the doors to the restaurant, whose dining room was no bigger than a home’s family room, opened up and there stood Vanessa.

She was better looking than he recalled, and he’d had several days to romanticize her silky brunette hair and long kohl lashes. She beamed a wide smile upon seeing him and he stood, meeting her halfway in a brief, but tight hug before he pulled out her chair.

“It smells amazing in here,” she gushed before even saying hello.

“I love this place,” Carmen nodded, taking his seat. “I didn’t even think to ask if you liked Vietnamese, I just assumed,” he shrugged softly, a small smile on his face.

“I’ve never had Vietnamese,” Vanessa confessed, to which Carmen grinned, “but I have a feeling I’ll like it.”

Their server brought over shots of fresh coconut milk with lime before taking drink orders.

“Why don’t you order?” Vanessa suggested.

“Are you sure?” Carmen asked.

“Our server addressed you by name, so something tells me you’ve been here before – I’ll try anything,” she smiled. Carmen’s heart skipped a beat.

“No allergies?” He asked, closing his menu. He knew it front to back by heart anyway.

“None,” she shook her head. Carmen rattled off four or five dishes when the server returned with their Cokes and she gladly clinked her glass bottle against his.

“So you know what I do,” Carmen cleared his throat softly. “What do you do for a living?” He asked.

“I work in marketing,” she began, crossing her legs. “For a firm called Olson Group downtown, I’ve been there since I left school.”

“So what exactly does that mean? Like commercials?” He asked.

“Kind of – commercial adjacent,” she nodded, “I help clients of all industries, so retail, restaurant, tech and ecommerce with branding, advertising, public relations management, pretty much anything that’s public-facing for their company.”

“Who’s your favorite client?” Carmen asked, ready to listen to her talk about anything. He liked the way her mouth shaped around the words she spoke.

“Right now, probably United Airlines,” she grinned, “they’re doing this retro PanAm-type of throwback branding overhaul and it’s just been a blast going through old school inspiration and updating it to fit 2021, but with a nod to the past.”

“That’s a huge company,” he commented, surprised.

“Our firm does a lot of big clients,” she nodded. “Our headquarters are here, but we have offices all over North America and Europe – I got to do a transfer year in Luxembourg, it was one of the best years of my life,” she grinned.

“Are you from Chicago?” Carmen asked, realizing he was practically interrogating this woman. “Sorry, god, I don’t mean to grill you.”

“I’m an open book,” she laughed. “It’s like a universal truth that people enjoy talking about themselves, right? I am from Chicago,” she nodded, “and I don’t mean Evanston or Rockford, but Chicago.”

“River North,” Carmen nodded.

“Lincoln Park,” she replied. “But I should caveat I went to grade school in Evanston.”

“I see,” Carmen quirked a small, knowing smile. Vanessa couldn’t believe someone with eyes that blue even existed. There was something about the round of his shoulders, prominent nose and jawline that made Carmen breathtakingly beautiful.

“I knew it!” she laughed, “stop judging me!”

“I’m not judging! Just filing it away for later,” Carmen’s first laugh helped draw his shoulders down from his ears.

Dishes started to pile up on their table as plate after plate was delivered and Vanessa excitedly dug into everything she could, enjoying every bite.

“This one’s a little risky,” Carmen said, stabbing a piece of lemon pepper squid, twirling it about in a sauce before holding it up in front of Vanessa without second thought. She gladly leaned over their small table to take a bite.

“It’s so’good,” she moaned. Carmen’s arms broke out into goose bumps. “Everything is so good,” she commented, holding up her fork with excitement at the spread in front of her, deciding on what to eat next.

Carmen explained more and more of what they were eating and they compared the dishes, ranking them as conversation flowed.

“So why did you decide to come back to Chicago? Miss home?” Vanessa asked.

“Something like that,” Carmen nodded, averting his gaze to the table before looking back to Vanessa. He might as well be honest. “I actually hadn’t planned on it, but my brother, who owned The Beef, he died,” he said, picking up his drink. “And he left it to me.” Vanessa’s eyes softened.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Carmen,” she said with heartfelt honestly. “What was he like?” Carmen swallowed softly. People never asked follow up questions, and if they did, it was never that.

“Eccentric in the best way possible,” Carmen recalled the older days, cooking in their family kitchen and how he idolized Mikey growing up – before things changed. “He was a really good storyteller and knew how to bring people together.”

“Is he your only sibling?” Vanessa asked, taking another bite of her spring roll.

“I’ve got a sister, Natalie,” he nodded. “What about you? Only child?” Vanessa threw her head back with a laugh.

“Am I putting off only-child energy?” She asked. “No, I’ve got two sisters – Nicola, she’s 20 and goes to DePaul, and Hannah, she’s in sixth grade.”

“Three girls,” Carmen raised his brows.

“My Dad thinks it’s penance for his wild boy days,” she laughed. “He raised us on his own – he’s incredibly in touch with his feminine side. My mom died a few weeks after Hannah was born, drunk driver accident,” she offered, seeing as Carmen had really opened himself up by telling her about his brother, she felt compelled to do the same.

“I’m sorry,” Carmen winced. He wasn’t sure what was worse, losing someone by their choice, or against their will.

Vanessa simply smiled, reaching across to squeeze his hand on the tabletop.

“Do you think we could order more of these?” she held up her fork, which had speared a pork wonton.

“Anything you want,” Carmen said sincerely. He’d serve his heart up on a platter it meant she’d smile at him again.

After dinner was finished, they’d agreed to take a stroll and try to walk off their overstuffed stomachs. The weather was nice enough as Chicago approached the end of summer and they weren’t far from Oz Park, which Carmen learned was one of Vanessa’s favorite parks in the city.

Carmen skirted the side of the walkways that were closest to the street and when a large group of people came by, Vanessa deftly stepped closer into his side, tucking her hand around one of his biceps. His brain shorted at her soft skin pressed against his.

“Oh,” she said softly, pausing in front of the retaining wall of a brownstone where a small bear had been spray-painted just above where the wall met the sidewalk. “I need to take a photo quick,” she said, whipping out her phone and crouching down to snap a picture. “Bears are my favorite animal,” she explained, “which sounds really juvenile, but my sisters and I always send each other pictures when we see them out in the wild.”

Carmen gulped softly.

“Why bears?” He asked.

“It’s actually a story our Mom used to tell us that her mother told her,” she said, stepping back into his side and lacing her fingers with his. Carmen squeezed her hand softly as they began to move forward again. “There’s this belief in our grandmother’s culture that when you pass away, you come back reincarnated as an animal, and everyone wants to be a bear because they’re the king of the animal kingdom,” she explained. “So when people pass, they come back to the world as an animal and those that are bears are so happy, they dance,” she laughed. “I don’t know, it sounds silly, but it’s always stuck with us.”

Carmen paused, gently tugging Vanessa’s hand so she’d step closer to him.

“It’s not silly,” he assured. “It actually makes more sense than most things people have said to me about the afterlife – thank you for sharing that with me.”

“Carmen?” Vanessa asked as they continued their way toward Oz Park. He looked over at her, not minding when an errant curl flopped onto his forehead. “I know our first date isn’t over, but I’d really like to go on a second date.”

“Me too.”

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Childhood Friends - Fluff

For @animebookworm16

It got kind of long and I’m not really sure it still counts as fluff, but here’s my piece for @maribat-angst-fluff-april, prompt 25, Childhood Friends.

Damian Al Ghul-Wayne was five years old the first time he met a girl his age. And in typical League of Assassins style, he went for efficiency by meeting ten at once.

“These are your betrothed,” Talia told him. “All but one will be dead by your twelfth birthday. You will marry the sole survivor on your eighteenth birthday and produce an Heir to carry on the great legacy of the League of Assassins.”

Nine of the girls heard the words without so much as a flinch. The last stared in shock at Talia, then broke into tears.

“Quiet, Marinette,” Talia hissed.

“No,” she yelled defiantly, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I want my mama!”

Talia backhanded her and she fell to the floor with a yelp.

Damian surveyed the girl – Marinette – with distaste.

“Mother, surely you don’t consider this sniveling coward worthy to compete for my hand?”

“Her mother, Sabine Cheng, was our best assassin for years before she turned traitor. I suppose she’s lost her touch if she raised such a weak daughter.” Talia shrugged elegantly. “No matter, if she turns out to be useless, we’ll ship her mutilated corpse back to Sabine as a reminder of what happens when you cross the League.”

She waved the girls away. “To your training now.”

Damian watched as Marinette sniffled and followed the other girls out the door.

She won’t last a week.

He had no idea how wrong he was.

.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was five years old the first time she won a fight. And in typical Dupain-Cheng fashion, she did so in the most unpredictable way possible.

“You’re going down, pigtails,” shouted a pretty brunette, charging at Marinette with a sword that was as tall as she was.

With a startled shriek, Marinette darted away. She hated how behind she was here. Back home, she was good at everything – reading circle, art class, tussles when the teacher’s back was turned. Here, it felt like she was constantly playing catch-up.

Not to mention, the constant threat of death was not fun.

Skidding around a corner of the labyrinth arena, she tripped over a protruding stone and fell to the ground. The brunette grinned viciously, advancing towards her.

Marinette smiled nervously. “Can’t we talk this out?”

“Not a chance, shortie,” said the brunette.

Marinette glanced around frantically.

I don’t want to die!

She reached for a rock, a stick, anything that could help her fight, but came up with only a handful of sand. With a pleading glance heavenward, she flung it into the brunette’s face and lurched to her feet, grinning when the girl had to stop to get the grit out of her eyes.

Taking off into the labyrinth of passages, she nearly stumbled again, this time over a nearly buried metal object.

She shifted away the dirt surrounding it and smirked. “Finally, a weapon I know how to use.”

Ten minutes later, the watching League members straightened in surprise as the smallest and weakest of Damian’s betrotheds utterly decimated her opponent.

With a frying pan.

.

“What are you doing here?”

The two children spoke in unison, glaring daggers at one another.

“I always come here,” Marinette said. “It’s my drawing spot.”

“The vents are my domain, Dupain-Cheng,” Damian said. “Get out.”

Two years’ worth of resentment and anger simmered beneath Marinette’s skin.

 Drawing is the last thing I have of home. I won’t let him take it from me.

“No.”

Damian looked thunderstruck and Marinette couldn’t keep the smirk off her face.

“I am Heir to the Demon! You will obey me!”

“You may be Heir to the Demon, but right now you’re also a kid skipping classes,” Marinette argued. “And if you make me leave, I’ll tell Talia exactly where you go when you’re not in class.”

Ha, take that, you tyrant!

Damian froze. Marinette watched as emotions overtook his face – anger, resentment, then acceptance.

“Fine,” he grumbled.

Marinette smiled and returned to her sketchbook – which wasn’t really a sketchbook, just some loose papers she’d tucked into her history book.

A few minutes later, Damian peered over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Drawing,” she said, holding out a few of her older sketches, the ones she wouldn’t mind losing if Damian decided to rip them. “There’s your mother fighting, cook making soup, the sunset from this other spot in the vents – actually, that one’s pretty bad because I didn’t have any colors.”

Damian stared at the drawing of his mother.

“I’m keeping this,” he announced.

Well, at least he didn’t tear it up.

The next week, when Marinette arrived at her drawing spot, Damian was already there. With an annoyed grunt, he shoved a sketchbook and colored pencils into her hands.

Marinette looked between him and the supplies in confusion. “What’s this for?”

“Teach me how to draw.”

Marinette bit her lip, looking longingly at the colored pencils. Then, she pushed them back towards Damian.

“I want you to give me weapons training. As often as I teach you drawing.”

I may be naturally talented at combat, but the other girls have been training their entire lives. I need to catch up.

Damian eyed her suspiciously. “That’s against the rules.”

“So? Are you scared?”

“Never.”

“Then it’s a deal?”

“It’s a deal.”

.

Damian lunged, making a displeased noise when his quarry danced out of his reach.

“You’re slow today, Dami,” Marinette teased. “Losing your touch?”

Marinette was no longer the scared little girl she’d been at five, or even at seven. She’d thrown herself into her training with single-minded determination and two years of training with Talia by day and Damian by night had made her a formidable – and snarky – combatant.

“Never,” Damian replied. His next attack nearly threw her off-balance.

With a grunt, Marinette recovered her footing and countered with a flurry of blows that would have left a lesser opponent dizzy.

Damian smirked, parrying each attack easily. “Completely mediocre. Should I tell my mother that her protégé is slipping?”

Although he’d never admit it, Damian was proud of her. She’d gone from being the worst of the League’s trainees to the only one able to keep up with him in a fight.

“Me? Slipping? Not a chance.” Marinette flipped backwards, knocking his weapon away. “Hey, Damian?”

“Yes, Marinette?” He scooped up his katana, readying himself for her next move.

“The floor is lava.”

With a startled intake of air, he leaped onto the nearest table.

“Really?” he asked, half annoyed, half amused.

Marinette giggled, peering down at him from her spot in the ceiling rafters. “I thought we could use an extra challenge.”

Damian glanced up at her. “You just like having the high ground.”

“Technically speaking, it’s the high rafter,” she pointed out.

“Either way, it won’t prevent me from defeating you,” Damian said, pulling himself into the rafters.

At that moment, the door opened and they both immediately went still.

“Damian? Are you here?”

Marinette raised an eyebrow at him. “Skipping again?” she mouthed.

Damian shrugged in response.

Rolling her eyes, Marinette gestured to the vents behind him. “I’ll meet you in the lower training rooms to finish our bout.”

“Marinette!” The teacher startled as she caught a glimpse of the pigtailed girl. “What are you doing up there?”

Effortlessly, the girl swung down from the ceiling, drawing the teacher’s attention away from Damian’s hiding place.

“Just improving my arm strength, Mistress Eva.” As she distracted his teacher with false information about his whereabouts, Damian climbed into the vents.

Marinette makes a surprisingly tolerable ally.

.

It didn’t seem to matter how many people Marinette killed; it never got easier. Surrounded by the bodies of Deathstroke’s traitors, she retched.

She was alone. Somehow, in the midst of the fight, she’d gotten separated from the rest of the League’s loyalists.

I need to get moving. I’m an easy target right now.

With a shuddering breath, she climbed to her feet and made her way out of the compound and into the shadows. It was there, staring at the ruins of the League’s strongest base, that the realization hit her.

“I’m free,” Marinette whispered, tears trickling down her face.

The Head of the Demon was dead, his followers scattered.

“I can finally go home.”

She ignored the voice in her mind that said her home was here, with the League, with Damian. She ignored the tightness in her chest at the thought of never seeing Damian again. She ignored the fear that he might already be dead.

The League kidnapped me. Talia abused me. Even if I managed to be happy here, I owe the Al Ghuls nothing. A vow of loyalty made under duress is no vow at all.

Her hands curled into fists.

And if they come for me again, I’ll be ready.

.

Damian scowled as their plane descended into Gotham.

“This is imbecilic. I should be assisting you in decimating our enemies, not hiding like a frightened child.”

“Damian,” his mother’s voice was cold. “This is not up for negotiation. You will stay here and train with your father.”

“Yes, Mother,” he replied bitterly. A moment passed, then he tilted his head in thought. “But what of my betrothed? If she is to be my equal, should she not train with me?”

Talia studied him carefully. “You use the singular of betrothed,” she noted. “Despite the fact that three remain alive. I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me which one you consider your wife-to-be?”

“Tt. Your protégé, the Cheng girl, is the only one that even approaches competent. You know this.”

“I also know that you trained her separately – against my orders,” Talia said.

Damian nearly flinched. “And yet you didn’t stop me.”

“I wonder if that was a mistake,” his mother said. “You feel more for her than you should.”

“She is an effective ally. That is all.”

“Then you won’t mind being separated from her for a while.”

“Not at all, Mother,” Damian lied.

.

“Marinette? Is that you?” Her mother looked as if she’d seen a ghost.

Marinette smiled. “Hello, Mama.”

Sabine reached out a shaking hand to cup her face. “How are you here? We saw you die.”

“Sabine, do you know where – ” Tom dropped the pan of croissants. “Marinette?”

He jumped over the counter and raced to her. Marinette took a step back before her mind caught up with her body.

This is Papa, you idiot. He’s not a threat.

She threw herself into his arms, shoving away her fears.

Twisting to face her mother, she said, “I don’t know how my death was faked, but I never died. The League kidnapped me.”

Tom’s arms tightened around her.

“The League?” Sabine’s face went pale. “What did they want with you?”

“The usual,” Marinette said with a shrug. “Revenge on you for leaving and a capable assassin and potential wife for Damian if I turned out to be any good.”

“Who’s Damian?” Tom asked with a frown.

Marinette grinned. “Oh, Damian’s great! He’s the Heir to the League, but he’s actually pretty okay for an assassin. He helped me get good enough to survive. You know, after I blackmailed and bribed him.”

“What?”

.

Meeting his father did not go the way Damian had imagined.

Talia always spoke of Bruce Wayne’s great intellect, his strength in combat, his determination in all things. She never mentioned his brainless playboy act, his absurd prohibition of killing, or his habit of taking in strays. Damian wasn’t sure which one was most offensive, but he was incredibly disappointed in his father regardless.

He had to reassess after he saw Batman at work. When not purposely acting like a buffoon, Bruce Wayne was everything his mother had described and more, entirely deserving of Damian’s respect.

He set out to prove himself in his father’s eyes. It didn’t go well. Whatever he did, it was the wrong thing. In any fight with the imposter sons, Damian was punished – even if he won. Assisting his father with Wayne Enterprises was met with an eye-roll and a request to stay away from Bruce’s office.

It should have made Damian angry but instead it hurt and Damian did not understand why.

And then his father was gone. Richard Grayson became Batman.

Damian became Robin. Finally.

And yet the triumph felt hollow.

Not to mention, it came with strings attached: ‘Murder is bad.’ ‘Justice, not vengeance.’ ‘Robin doesn’t kill.’ ‘Protect rather than avenge.’

Grayson’s teachings were imbecilic. And yet he had to follow them. His mother had yet to finish with the traitors.

He wondered where Marinette was, if she was undergoing similar training, if she fought the way he did to reign in the bloodlust. Considering how she had to hide her dislike of killing, how she helped heal her competitors, he thought probably not.

Slowly, things got easier. Grayson became tolerable. Damian learned to suppress the instinct, the muscle memory that said ‘kill or be killed.’ He found an adoration for animals and learned to deal with his classmates. He finally began to understand why Grayson and his father valued life so highly. His father came back and he chose to deny the League. Wayne Manor became home.

On days when he struggled, he retreated to his room and the comfort of his sketchbook. And if a certain blue-eyed girl made an appearance every few pages, well, who would know but him?

.

Returning home did not go the way Marinette had imagined.

She knew it wouldn’t be sunshine and roses, of course. But she hadn’t expected the magnitude of the changes in her home, or in herself.

School was laughably easy. Marinette had the equivalent of several college degrees. Finding x and learning how to spell ‘earthquake’ was a waste of her time. Instead, she spent class drawing and coming up with increasingly complex plans for fighting off the League should they try to kidnap her again.

She kept herself closed off from her classmates – she didn’t know how she’d ever called them friends. They were neutral parties at best – not one ever stood up for her against Chloe. Her parents encouraged them to give her classmates a chance, but the League had trained her well. Misplaced trust could kill. And Marinette had fought long enough for survival to know that dropping your guard was a death knell.

She hated hurting her parents though.

Though they tried to hide it, she saw the pain cross their faces when she flinched away from hugs. When she moved like an assassin rather than a child. When she gave away her stuffed animals. When she skipped family game night and spent her time training.

She hated hurting her parents. So she changed.

Marinette locked away her lethal grace, faking clumsiness and turning it into an art form. She hid her weapons, training only when her parents were asleep. She returned to family game nights; she initiated hugs. At school, she became bubbly and friendly again, though she trusted no one.

More than anything, she tried to atone. She sought out those in need and tried to help – whether by providing food, babysitting, or making them warm clothing. She discovered an interest in fashion design, but mostly stuck to making the essentials for those in need. She met a tiny floating bug named Tikki and became a superhero.

On days when she struggled, she retreated to her room and the comfort of her sketchbook. And if green eyes and a cocky smirk featured prominently in the book, well, who would know but her?

.

Damian frowned as he followed his brother into Wayne Enterprises.

"I don't understand why it's so important for me to be here."

"C'mon, Baby Bird!" Dick said. "You said you wanted to be more involved in the company!"

"I meant the business side of things," Damian said. "I have no interest in showing around a gaggle of unruly teenagers."

"You're a teenager too," Dick pointed out. "It'll be fun!"

Damian sniffed. "I'm an adult. And fun, really? Surely you don't truly believe that?"

Dick sighed. "Just give it a chance, okay? They seem like really great kids."

They walked into the lobby and Damian stopped short, eyes catching on long black hair and brilliant blue eyes.

"Marinette?"

.

In truth, Marinette wasn't all that excited about the Wayne Enterprises tour. The architecture was interesting, sure, but her class had a habit of making themselves a target and Bruce Wayne's patronage was not helping.

She gave it three days, at most, before they got in trouble with Gotham's Rouges.

Which meant she was on 'keep the class from dying' duty. Joy.

She kept her eyes and ears peeled, which meant that she heard the faint whisper of her name from an unfamiliar voice.

"Marinette?"

Forest-green eyes filled with far too much emotion had her breath catching in her throat.

"Damian?"

With obvious effort, the League's Heir pulled himself together. "Fancy meeting you here, Dupain-Cheng."

His voice. Oh, kwami, it should be illegal to look AND sound that good. Nope. Nope. Not doing this. He's an assassin, get your act together, Marinette.

"Al-Ghul." She was proud that her voice betrayed nothing. "I have to admit, I'm surprised to see you here. This doesn't seem like your scene."

She reached out for a handshake and was taken off guard when Damian kissed her hand instead. She blushed.

"It's Wayne now," Damian said. "I'm... no longer associated with the Al-Ghuls. Or their business."

He's not an assassin anymore? Yes! I knew you were a good person deep, deep down, Dami!

"Really? I broke ties with them several years ago myself."

See that, Damian? We're both good people. Good people that would be great toget - no! Bad Marinette!

Damian grinned. "In that case, I look forward to reconnecting. Perhaps after the tour?"

Oh, kwami, I'm doomed.

"I'd like that."

.

"What was that?" Dick asked in a low voice. "I've never seen you open up to someone so quickly."

With difficulty, Damian tore his gaze from Marinette.

Stars, she grew up gorgeous.

Damian smirked. "Don't be ridiculous, Grayson. I met Marinette over a decade ago."

I wonder, does she still consider our betrothal valid?

"Wait, so she's an assassin?" Grayson blanched. "Who is she here to kill? Who do I have to protect? Ugh! Why can't you ever have normal friends?"

"Relax," Damian chided. "She's an ex-assassin. Like me."

"That does not make me feel better. Who is she to you?"

Damian hummed in thought, running through years of teasing, fighting, and spending time together. "She was my first friend."

And maybe now something more.

[cinnamonrusts]

bed time with the sparda twins --

all the cuddles, fluff, and bedtime rituals with dante and vergil 💤

-- f!reader (kofi + gif not mine)

DANTE-

The ticking clock in the living room read 10:30pm. Dante yawned loudly which was followed by several loud lip smacks. You fell asleep beside him on the couch, your head rested on the back of the headrest with mouth open wide. The half demon smiles as his tired eyes observe you lovingly, even as a dribble of drool rolls down the side of your chin. How did he get so lucky? What did he do to deserve someone like you? Your gentle and attractive features highlighted the warmth that your heart radiated. 

However, waking you up unleashed the wrath that your gentle soul disguised. Dante put a hand on your thigh and gave you a light shake. You stirred slightly before drifting back to your deep slumber. Your name whispered from his lips while he gave your body another shake. Soon your eyes opened and Dante’s face came into focus. “Hey, sunshine,” he cooed, “Let’s go to bed.”

A tired smile stretched across your lips as his words filled you with love. With a stretch and a loud yawn, you took the hand that Dante lent out and the two of you climbed the stairs to the upper level.

Your bedtime routine was always the same, besides a couple of variances. Dante was the first into the bathroom, he removed all clothing besides his boxers and socks. He pasted both of your toothbrushes and set yours down on the counter where it waited for you. As he peed, he brushed his teeth and hummed the tune to Walking on Sunshine. When you joined him, you picked up the toothbrush and started to brush as Dante continued to hum happily. The two of you observed each other’s reflections in the mirror; a mixture of funny faces and giggles were exchanged.

In Dante’s room was a king sized bed that was directly in the middle of four maroon walls. The small room had one window on the right wall that allowed the pink glow of the neon sign to peak in through the blinds, this gave the bedroom a sort of warmth to it. On either side of the bed were nightstands that were decorated with personal items. Yours had a variety of skincare items, a clock, a teddy bear, and a photo of Dante, Nico, Nero, and yourself (Vergil was nice enough to take the picture). Dante’s was filled with several half empty water bottles, a scattered mess of papers, a photo of the two of you at a fair, and Ebony/Ivory. He kept them on top of his dresser to keep them accessible at all times, if anything were to happen -- keeping you safe was his priority and he felt better with them in close range. 

Other things in the room included a closet which contained your clothing and a large dresser which held Dante’s. His dresser was on the wall that faced the foot of the king sized bed, on top was a medium sized CRT television that occasionally caught signal from the busted antenna on the top of the building. 

As you finished getting ready for bed, Dante rushed into the bedroom to get the bed prepped. He pulled back the plump, black comforters, as well as taking your pillows and giving them a fluff. You stopped in the doorway of the room and leaned against the frame with a smile on your lips as you watched the Sparda man prep your bed. The floorboards squeaked as you shifted your weight which caught his attention - he stopped immediately then spun around with a smile. “Bed’s all ready,” he took a small step toward you, which you took one toward him. Dante then charged into your waist, his arms wrap tightly around your small frame. He lifts you up in the air with ease before resting your body over his right shoulder. Dante slides toward the bed and proceeds to drop you lightly onto the springy mattress.

The white haired male lowers himself down over you with hands on each side of your head. He’s quiet besides the same smile that he’s been wearing all night. “Hi,” you say quietly, “Hey,” he responds. Your skin can feel the warmth of his breath against it which causes goosebumps to rise. Soon his lips are pressed against yours. His kisses always start soft and sweet before growing hungrier with each touch. His white teeth are biting at your lower lip, his tongue is wrestles for dominance inside of your mouth. Dante’s palms that were supporting his weight are now roaming your body as he feels every curve while your fingers stroke his chin stubble. You can feel his boxers rise against your thigh but before anything can move any further, he stops.

Dante pulls away and cups your cheek with his rough palm. His thumb strokes your skin softly as his blue orbs take in your e/c eyes. He suggests that the two of you crawl under the covers and get comfortable. You agree and crawl to the side of the bed where you normally slept, Dante joining you on the other side while draping the blankets over your frames. His strong arm wraps around you and pulls you close to his bare chest. Your head rests on his warm skin and you can feel his heartbeat slow from the quickened pace that it was beating at. Dante turns on the television and flips through several channels of static before stopping on a late night re-run of a comedy movie. You can feel your eyes getting heavy with each blink.

Light snores vibrate in your throat as you fell asleep again on your partner. He can hear them over the sound of the movie and his eyes look down to the side at you. Your expression is peaceful, and the rise then fall of your body is slow and steady. Dante smiles again and thinks again about how lucky he is to be where he is right now. He was hoping for a blowjob, but this is okay too... That could always happen later.

When the two of you sleep, it is a battle for the bed. Despite being a king size, the two of you take up a considerable amount of space for the rather large mattress. Dante is a stomach sleeper and sleeps with his legs spread out wide. A part of his body always needs to be touching you, so that he knows that you’re always there beside him. He’s afraid of something happening to you while he’s asleep or when he wakes up in the morning, you’ll be gone. So, either his foot is touching your leg or his palm is on your breast. 

You often sleep on your back with legs and arms spread out. The back of your hand or palm usually rests on the back of Dante’s head (or his face). Your leg that isn’t touching Dante’s often dangles off the side and falls asleep, which then wakes you up with the annoying tingling feeling that doesn’t go away until you shake it. The devil hunter likes sleeping with the tv on and enjoys the feeling of waking up in the dark to see an infomercial about cleaning products playing. While you like sleeping in the dark, the hue of the neon signs outside give you a relaxed feeling that you cannot explain. 

Despite your differences in your sleeping conditions -- the two of you wait for the other to wake up in the mornings. Usually you’re the first to fall asleep and the first to wake up, but sometimes Dante beats you in the mornings. He doesn’t have difficulty falling asleep but does staying asleep, during the night his dreams often wake him and he has trouble shaking them off. So, if he wakes up early, he will wait for you. You wait for him as well. Whoever is first -- either of you will face the other and enjoy the peacefulness of quiet morning and the way that the sun shines into the room. Dante feels excited every time you wake up and your blinks are slow but the way that the sun shines off of your e/c irises fill him with a warmth that he doesn’t fully wrap his head around. 

Dante doesn’t wake up as peaceful as you do. It’s often with eyelids opening quickly and glazed over eyes from either not enough or too much sleep. His morning breath is atrocious but comforting at the same time. It is a stench that you’ve grown to love - some may think it’s odd but love is an odd thing.

As he stretches, he rolls onto his side and pulls you close to him again as you managed to wiggle free during the night. His hand is on the small of your back as you prop yourself up on your elbows with your hands under your chin. Dante grins,

“Good morning, snore-ass,” he says with a yawn, “Good morning, shit breath,” you reply with a smile.

VERGIL-

It is late at night and you’re already in bed but are not accompanied by Vergil. You stir under the sheet that laid across your body, your legs search for the strong calves of your mate. But the bed is absent of the half demon man. You push yourself up from the bed and squint as you scan the dark room. The walls are a light shade of grey and two windows sit directly in front of you, the moonlight peaks from between two curtains and highlights an empty chair where Vergil normally sat with his book.

“He must be downstairs,” you speak as you drape a robe over your nude frame. The hallway is empty and dark when you exit your shared bedroom. Down the hall is the room of his brother, Dante, and sounds of his television blare from behind his closed door. He wouldn’t be in there, it’s too late in the night.  You peer over the side of the balcony to the floor below and see Vergil sitting at his brother’s desk with book in hand.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to wake up without the elder Sparda brother accompanying you. Things kept him awake at night and he was usually reluctant to reveal what they were, despite being in a relationship together for several years. He informed you about his mother, Eva, and that fateful day that separated his fate from the one of Dante’s - but that was about it.

Vergil hears your creaking as you walk down the steps and acknowledges your presence, “You should be sleeping,” he says with his book raised to eye level. “Waking up alone gets old, Vergil.” you slowly approach him and notice that he’s shirtless still from your love making that occurred earlier in the night. The moonlight shines in from a window and accents his muscular body in all the correct ways.

 He is silent for a moment before he apologizes. You accept it and lightly wrap your arms around his neck from behind and your fingertips lightly run across his strong pectorals. “Did you have another dream?” you whisper next to his ear. He had been having issues with dreaming about his corruption and the loss of his mother, which leads up to losing you. Your hand raises to his ear and tickles his skin, but Vergil takes your digits in his palm and squeezes. “Let’s return to our bedroom,” he pushes back from the desk and stands.

The Sparda man feels guilty for leaving you again, especially after having sex because your cuddling was cut short when he got up and left. Vergil suddenly scoops you up from your feet, his strong arms pull your close to his body and he walks up the stairs. You look up to his face with a warmth lingering in your cheeks, you can see his handsome features even in the dark. His eyes are focused on what was in front of him and when he reached the landing, they fell onto you. He smiles slightly as he pushes the bedroom door open with his foot.

The room isn’t large but is perfect for the two of you to live comfortably in. On the wall to the right was a large dresser that held both of your clothing. Decorating the top of it was a photo of the two of you, Dante and Vergil, then a painting of you two hung on the wall about the furniture. In a vase was a wilted rose that Vergil had given to you on your first official date, it was frail and broken but most petal remained, it was sentimental nonetheless. The largest piece of furniture was an ornate bookshelf that held a collection of works that Vergil admired. You actually found it in an antique store and used the remaining money you had for the month to purchase it for him. When he received your gift, you could’ve sworn you saw tears well in his eyes but he quickly embraced you tightly and thanked you with a passionate kiss. There was no television in your room but there was a small radio that you listened to often when you would clean up while Vergil read his poems in the chair by the window. He enjoyed listening to you sing and hum to the music while he read, his eyes would occasionally raise from the literature to watch you.

You think that he is going to lay you on the bed but he takes you into the bathroom that is connected to the bedroom instead. Your normal bedtime routine involved you sitting on the toilet brushing your teeth while Vergil stood in front of the sink doing the same. He was very vigilant about his oral health, so he took twice as long as you to brush. You always gotta bump him out of the way with your hip, so that you could spit out the foam that was filling your cheeks to the brim. Vergil always set out two things of floss and two bottles of mouth wash. “His and hers!” you called it. Skincare masks were your favorite weekly routine because it meant that you could paint his face with black mud. He would scoff but let you have your fun, however, he was unhappy when you captured a photographic memory of it.

Vergil seats you down on the closed toilet lid and turns to dig in the lower cabinet. “What’re you doing?” you ask but he doesn’t answer. When he turns around, there is a bottle of body lotion in his hand. He pumps several globs of white cream into his palm before resting on his knees, he waddles toward you and takes the lower half of your leg in his empty hand. His rough palm with the lotion begins to spread the lotion on your soft skin. The other hand joins as they travel up and down your appendage, he begins giving you a massage. Vergil raises your calf to his face and presses his lips against it, giving you several loving kisses. He then presses his nose to your muscle and breathes you in. Kissing, feeling, and smelling your body creates an overwhelming sensation of love and gratitude to fill his body, he wants to show you how much he appreciates everything you have done for him.

You hum in pleasure as he massages but when he stops and kisses your leg, you lean over to run your fingers through his white hair. His blue orbs flicker up and meet yours, the silence remains as no words are needed to explain the intimacy between you both.

After he is done, he picks you up again and takes you to the bed.

When it is time to sleep, Your bed is a queen size which is just enough room for two people, which worked out well because Vergil holds you tight to his side. He is a side sleeper and mostly rests on his right half. You lay nestled into the bend of his body with your back side facing his front. Vergil’s left arm holds onto your waist and his ankles are linked onto yours. Vergil enjoys resting this way because when he feels horny, you can feel his member in his pants and he has easy access to your heat. Resting over your bodies was a light silver sheet which sometimes had a white quilt accompanying it, but Vergil enjoyed feeling cool at night. (being snuggled up to a half demon turned out to be warmer than you thought) and you were one to enjoy being snuggled up in a fluffy blanket. The two of you compromise and often rotate the coverings for your shared bed.

Being held tight to Vergil’s body is comforting which upsets you when he leaves you during the night. Once he left and did not return for several days which meant you laid alone at night wondering where he had gone off to. But he did return, then held you tight again to his body. He whispered promises that no matter what -- he would be there to hold you. 

Just as Vergil wakes up during the night, he is the first to wake in the morning as well. It is his favorite time because he can watch you sleep in your most innocent nature. Normally your back faces him but in the morning he releases your body and you almost immediately roll onto your back. Vergil can see your eyes flicker side to side under your closed lids and ponders about what you dream about.

The whole building is quiet because it is way too early for Dante to be awake. So, Vergil takes advantage of it to also reflect on things while he watches you sleep. These things involve his goals which both include personal ones and those that involve you. He reflects on his past, present, and even future. Vergil thinks about what could become of your relationship and it fills him with joy and anxiety.

He never wakes you but simply remains patient for you to wake on your own (unless there are morning plans) When you do, he releases his crossed brows and a small smile forms on his lips. His hand raises and holds yours, “Good morning, darling,” he says, “Good morning, sweetheart,” you reply. Your stomach growls in between of your sweet words which prompt an unison chuckle, “Let me bring you breakfast,” he offers and pushes himself up.

[selfships-in-spanish]

The Queen of Demons 5/?

Pairing: Erwin Smith x OC, Levi Ackerman x OC

Rating: Mature (the rating will go up as the story advances! But it will totally be explicit ;D I even have some smut chapters already half written woooo! But right now just in case)

Warnings: None for now, but sexist and misogynist upbringing (Eva’s father is a huge asshole).

Word Count: 13.538

ALSO POSTED ON AO3

A/N: Jesus Christ this month has destroyed me. A lot is going on, I had 0 time to write and I managed to do a bit when I had 5 minutes to sit my ass down. At least Patreon is working good enough!

But the plot thickens! 👀 There are a lot of "AHHH THEY TOUCHED" moments that had me screaming, and I'm so sorry for putting Eva through all this... but it will be worth it in the end! C'mon girl, you will get through it 💪

CHAPTER 5: OLD FOREST OF THE ANCIENT GODS

There was not a cloud in sight, an unwavering blue sky greeting them as they passed through the village’s main gates. Although pale, the sun shone bright, even if it did not warm as it should.

Still, Eva did not feel the cold.

How could she? Even through her winter cloak and thick winter dress, Eva could feel the warmth the Chief irradiated. Like a well fed furnace. Constant. Blazing. Comforting…

No, no, no. She could not be thinking about that. Where did her proper manners go? She tried to maintain as much distance between their bodies as possible, not believing how they were… touching, something completely unthinkable back home. In Gottesreich it wouldn’t be until their wedding day where they could leisurely hold hands and become more intimate. But in Eldia? Not even a day and she was riding on the same horse! Astride!

Her riding teacher would be spitting fire at the sight, like those dragons from her books and legends.

But the Princess’s efforts to put some distance were in vain. The horse’s movement and stony path made Eva often fall back into the Chieftain’s chest, much to her dismay. Feeling the Chief’s shoulders slightly shake in amusement, at least trying to conceal it and not make Eva more self-conscious than she was, at her gasps when their bodies collided, made her even more vexed than she already was.

Her behaviour was being so improper! And he wasn’t helping.

The Princess tried to keep her mind out of this inconvenient situation by looking at the beautiful scenery in front of her. Yesterday she found it worthy of a painting done by the best court artists, even if she marvelled at it from inside her carriage and the caged view it provided, but now that she had the entire sight for her eyes to feast on? Breathtaking.

The pure white from the snow looked like an immaculate mantle, as if the softest of silks were draped over the entire expanse of land that it touched. The faraway mountains, covered in snow also, reminded her of those sweets from back home the cooks baked for her, the tops powdered with sugar. Eva spotted smoke coming out of the scattered farm houses chimneys, getting lost in the sky, and for a moment wished she could be there, enjoying the warmth of a fire.

Beautiful, calm, serene, elegant. That’s what this view told her. Blissful peacefulness.

It was contagious, and the stillness of the fallen snow lulled Eva into a sense of tranquillity. The Princess came to the conclusion that it was better and easier to accept that she will have to endure an entire ride on the Chief’s stallion mercy. Closeness included.

They kept a relaxed pace, not rushing the animals and being careful of the frozen puddles on the road. Back in Gottesreich, Flora would already have started to hum a song as they watched the scenery from inside their carriage, Eva eventually joining her and following the rhythm with their tapping feet. Eva caught herself just in time before she let out the first note, too enraptured with her own thoughts and memories and the rocking of the horse too, to notice how she was taking a deep chilly breath.

The Chief noticed the change of her posture, going rigid again, and the huge exhale of air she let out, trying in vain to conceal it. The eldian warrior misinterpreted it as the Princess getting bored out of her mind, and frowned, thinking about ways to entertain her. What could he do? He’d love to ask about a million topics, if they shared the same language; Erwin had always possessed a curious and inquisitive mind, and vividly remembers having his big nose buried in one of his father’s books. He still does, when he is able. But speaking leisurely with the Princess would come… he hoped. Preparations had already begun for it. But what else could he— ah! That might work.

Eva was startled by the Chief’s gentle tapping of his fingers on her arm, discreetly asking for her attention. The Princess saw the Chief’s massive arm cover her right side view, following his outstretched arm to where his finger was pointing at. Eva willfully avoided the thought of how their bodies were practically glued together, feeling his rumbling chest as he purred out some eldian words in her ear— at least for Eva, he was purring out words in the shell of her ear, low enough for only them to hear it, just shy of a murmur. His voice had no right to sound that way, this close. Is this what awaited her, every day, for the rest of her life?

The Chief watched the tips of her ears reddening up further, knowing it was not the cold this time. Woops. He had to remind himself of how different their body languages were in their own respective cultures.

But Eva did look to where the Eldian Chief was pointing over, scrunching slightly her eyes and— oh!

“Cows!”

A smile found her lips upon seeing the gentle animals strolling around. Eva noticed how they were a different breed from what she was used to, just like the horses. Eva knew all the gottesreichan breeds, as she had been taught in her lessons, and had never seen the Eldian breed before even though she had read about it. They were absolutely adorable with the long coat of fur over their bodies, even when the long hairs covered their eyes, a beautiful mirage of black and honey brown over the snow. It still amazed the Princess how that breed of cows had such big horns.

Eva couldn’t tear her gaze away from them, transfixed. She did not notice the Chief discreetly looking at her, pleased he managed to communicate without words and show her something. He also found her smile beautiful— her brothers weren’t lying. Erwin’s eyes also found themselves with the expanse of her neck at his viewing pleasure, unguarded, soft, long, little hairs falling out of the perfect up braid and bun… it looked kissable.

No! No. Erwin, no.

All this had a meaning. A purpose. They had a plan and Erwin would carry it to perfection. No distractions allowed. Erwin made a promise to her brothers, had a deal, and whatever stray thoughts a lonely man had, would stay sealed deep inside.

Maybe if things had been different… If they had met in another way.

The Chief teared his eyes away, looking straight ahead with intent. Eva kept looking at the beautiful cows, wishing she could pet them and stop time for a moment.

It wasn’t too long until they reached the forest’s entrance, leaving behind the few scattered houses and their fields and cattle. Two massive obelisks, made of old and robust wood, marked the entrance. They had the same carved markings, or at least quite similar, as the ones from back in the village’s houses and Great Hall. The obelisks looked like they were put there a long, long time ago, judging by the rugged and chipped wood, the paint having washed and fallen off, only a few remains visible still, an ashen tone around the grooves and the moss covering them all over. They truly looked ancient.

The Chief led them through the obelisks, entering the forest. The path was wide enough that two horses could ride next to the other with more than enough space, even three in a more narrow fit, but the Chief rode first and alone, with everyone else following behind. The forest was quiet besides the sounds of birds and the horse’s hooves thudding on the snow, as well as the wooden cart creaking its way into the woods. Everything was covered in thick layers of snow, even the bushes from where the trees allowed the sky to show. The path was marked with short wooden stakes spread out unevenly along its sides, as if they had been an afterthought, deeply embedded into the ground. Some fell, others remained askew and bent or broken from nature itself.

They kept venturing further into the forest’s path, carefully avoiding fallen branches. Eva marvelled at the frondosity of the forest, as well as the massive sizes some trees had. The deeper they went, the bigger the trees grew in size and girth, as if nobody dared to disturb them for centuries. This was an old forest, for sure. Everything about it screamed ancient, that it had seen the rise and fall of many kingdoms. The thought of it made Eva feel as if she only was a small, brief being on this earth. A blink.

For a moment, still reflecting these feelings, Eva thought about how stupid wars were, when humans just had such a short period of time to be alive. Shouldn't everyone be spending it by being happy? Rejoicing in life itself? Eva shivered, feeling tiny. Useless.

That’s when the Chief surprised her once again, feeling the hood of her winter cloak lift itself from her shoulders and be carefully set on her head, mindful of her braids and flowers. Then, he pulled his own open eldian cloak around them both, successfully sheltering the Princess.

Eva wanted to scream.

Instead, a gasp escaped her mouth.

This was scandalous! Eva found herself at the total mercy of the Chief’s whims and she was not happy about it, no escape, no way to put distance. Did he want a feel of what awaited him, behind closed doors once they were married? Was this a way to intimidate her? Show her how powerless, useless she was in his hands? The Princess wanted to bolt right out of the warm cocoon, as she reluctantly had to admit, she found herself in.

Don’t cause a scene, like a vulgar wench.

Her father’s voice echoed in her mind.

Are you a vulgar wench?

Cold eyes.

I didn’t think so. You are a princess, vulgarity is out of the question for someone like you.

Lips pulled down in a grimace.

Don’t bring a crude, disgusting attitude into this sacred Kingdom.

Nose flaring.

I will give you a reason to cr–

Eva cried for the entire day.

Deep breaths. That’s what she needed to do when she felt her chest squeeze itself in. Deep breaths. Think of your surroundings, what was there to see? Focus on it, what can you see?

I can see trees. I can see branches covered in snow. I can see the horse’s ears. I can see the path dividing into two. I can see a giant, leafless oak tree in the middle of the split path. I can see–

A blue glow flickered behind the thick and mossy tree trunks on her left. It was faint but powerful enough to be seen in daylight, and caught the Princess’ undivided attention. The glow of the light was gentle, placid, like the tender caress of the moon’s light on a starry night. Eva couldn’t help but to stare at it, transfixed, wanting to know what was the source of it. It was a beautiful light.

The faint blue glow slowly followed their pace, shining unsteadily as it went through the massive expanse of trees and bushes. Eva narrowed her eyes, trying desperately to see what that silhouette was. By the way it moved, it looked like a four-legged animal, like a horse or a deer.

Did nobody else see this?

Eva ventured a quick glance sideways towards the Chief, but his head was staring straight ahead, as if the glow was invisible to him.

Upon scrunching her sight further, the Princess realised it was a stag. An enormous stag. The antlers were unnaturally big, twisting and bending on themselves, forming a quite frightening shape.

What, in God's name, was that.

The outlandish creature silently followed them, not making a single sound. Eva could only hear the hooves of their horses, some of them huffing, the cart creaking, the birds tweeting…

The stag suddenly stopped. Eva couldn’t stop staring, although something kept her on edge. Her grip on the Chief’s stallion crest and the saddle’s horn tightened, feeling the fabric of her gloves crack under the strain.

Eva just blinked once.

It was a flash, quick as lightning.

The stag had turned its head towards the Princess, and she could feel its gaze focused on her. The Princess held her breath, uneasiness gnawing every fibre of her body.

Eva blinked again.

Those eyes flashed in her mind. Big. Opaque. Dark blue.

Another blink.

Eva felt as if the creature charged towards her.

A strangled gasp escaped her lips, unconsciously throwing herself back in fear, hands grasping whatever was within reach, squeezing hard.

Blink.

The stag was gone.

The Chief quickly grabbed the Princess’ falling body, pulling her against him and wrapping his arms around her as the Chief hurriedly pulled the reins to stop his horse. The rest of the group did the same, stopping immediately upon seeing and hearing the ruckus. The Chief heard some of the men dismount, footsteps thudding on the snow. The Princess was frightened, as if something spook her on that side of the woods, and without thinking twice, the Chief moved her so she sat on her side, instead of astride the horse. Eva let him, pressing herself against his body, unaware of the hood falling from her head and some of the flowers falling down or getting crushed on the Chief’s chest. This way he could easily shield her of whatever danger may lurk behind the bushes and tree trunks. The Eldian leader looked at the point where the Princess had been staring, trying to find the source of it.

Nothing.

Levi appeared on his left side, his hands already on the hilt of his sword. He threw a questioning look to him, then glanced quickly at the Princess. Her face was pale. Levi frowned. The Chief answered him, nodding towards the woods as he spoke. Levi turned to face the same spot he was referring to, trying to see what scared the Gottesreichan Princess.

Nothing.

Prince Hans and Moblit approached them too, with Moblit asking his Chieftain what happened for them to suddenly stop. The Eldian leader told the same he did with Levi, and asked if the Crown Prince could help in inquiring further about it to his sister. Prince Hans nodded, slowly approaching them and gently placing his gloved hand on his sister’s ankle.

“Eva?”

Eva managed to rip her gaze away from the exact spot where the stag stood, looking down at her brother. The way her eyes were wide open concerned the prince.

“Did something happen?”

“T-there was– Big horns, it ran, it was– i-it stared at me and then it–”

“Eva, darling, breathe. Calm down, what was that you saw?”

Eva took a deep breath, gulped down the knot in her throat.

“I-I don’t know, I don’t know–”

“Did you say horns, your Highness?”

“I–” Eva’s eyes went from Moblit, to Hans and then to Levi, and the Chief too, all of them waiting for her response. Their awaiting gazes felt like hands squeezing her lungs and brains. The Chief’s thumb trying to reassure her felt scorching hot.

...Don’t cause a scene, like a–

She was causing a scene. She stopped the entire party because she got frightened over a… a stupid halucination, because her mind played tricks on her, for sure. Eva heard stress could do that to oneself, because that thing could not be real. And she was stressed.

Yes, it had to be that. No mystical stags with massive antlers.

The three men saw how the Princess forced herself to compose and gather her wits as if a spell had been casted on her, as if she had not lurched back and almost fell in a terrified mess. A mask devoid of feelings. Hans knew who forced that “magic trick” on her, and clenched his jaw in anger.

With a fake smile, the Princess spoke, trying to control the quivering in her voice and desperately pushing away the image of the stag’s antlers charging at her.

“My deepest apologies for making such a ridiculous and nonsensical scene, my Lords.” You must think of me as a fragile, spoiled, useless– “It was not my intention to make the horses stop. I must have seen a branch moved by the wind or a wild animal.” Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Prince Hans was not buying it. He knew his sister, practically raised her, because Father’s “efforts” couldn’t be called parenting, so he perfectly knew when she was spitting out massive amounts of bullshit. But he waited until Moblit translated and the Eldian warriors nodded in acknowledgement, going back to their horses and away from Moblit’s earshot, to speak again to his sister.

“Eva,” he briefly squeezed his hand on her boot, catching her attention. “Tell us later what you saw, okay?”

“I didn’t–”

“Eva.” she involuntarily flinched, and Hans wanted to kick himself; he was often reminded how he looked like Father when he was angry, and he hated it. The Chief’s icy glare directed at him made the sentiment grow. “Eva, I’m not mad, I’m concerned. We cannot protect you if we don’t know what we are fighting against.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to be a bother as I am right now.”

“You are not being a bother, Eva. Don’t apologise for that.”

“I’m sorry– ouch!”

Hans flicked his finger on her knee.

“Stop saying sorry, you have nothing to apologise for.” Hans replied. Eva had unclenched one of her hands to rub her knee, pouting, and that made the Crown Prince let out an amused huff. “C’mon, we will talk later.”

“Okay.” Hans was relieved to see his sister’s soft smile timidly appear.

The Chief waited until everyone got back to their horses before he resumed the pace. He kept glancing to where the Princess had spotted something, and upon looking ahead to guide his horse, he recalled the legends and myths surrounding the Eldian woods, and in particular this area with the leafless oak tree.

This particular forest was known for the spirits inhabiting it, sometimes showing themselves. Maybe it was the first time the Princess encountered one, considering her Kingdom’s policy on magical creatures. He would need Hange and Moblit to explain the spiritual world further to her, knowing they were the true experts.

As they reached the bifurcation of the path, the Eldian leader led them to the right, leaving the oak tree behind and lining up to cross the river’s bridge. They were close to their destination, that enormous glade just after the river, where they could set the tent and lit a bonfire to shelter the ritual testimonies and his future bride from the cold.

His future bride.

Erwin looked down, searching for her face. He found the Princess still deep in thought, her gaze lost.

He would really have to inquire further about it, dissipate any fears about the woods to her. Spirits were not evil, curious and mischievous yes, but the forest’s deities were good-natured, amiable.

The Chief still had his arm wrapped around her body, his hand resting on her abdomen, reassuring, as they continued their journey, and he had no intention to take it back. Eva let him, needing to feel secure after her encounter with the glowing stag. The Chief knew she was still trembling in fear, and made no comment or movement of how her own hand was clutching his tunic, or how she curled up further, not wanting to look out at the woods again.

It was a silent message, clear as crystalline water.

Help me, I’m scared.

And when the Chief gently squeezed his hand, pulling her closer, if that was even possible, answered her silent cry.

I’ll protect you.

The Princess believed it as she still felt those dark blue eyes glued to the back of her head as they left behind the oak tree.

They arrived at their destination without any further incidents. The eldian warriors got off their horses first, already taking everything they needed from the cart to set a quick tent to protect their guests from the unforgiving eldian winter and cold. The Chief stopped his horse in the flattest surface he could see, and gracefully dismounted without first guiding the Princess’ right hand on the horn, then the left on the cantle when he had his foot on the stirrup and was facing her, so she wouldn’t fall when he moved down. Once happy the Princess was secure, the Chief’s feet thudded into a soft grass bed covered in a thick layer of snow.

The Chief looked down, seeing his own worn boots sunken in the snow. Nobody had disturbed that snowfall, maybe some animals, but it had accumulated from the past weeks of snowy days and nights. He then looked at the Princess’ feet, and doubted the Princess’ boots would be thick enough for the forest snow; if it covered half his foot, then it would surely reach her ankles easily, recalling how small she was compared to him on last night’s banquet dance.

His feet moved on their own, pushing and shoving the snow away to make a clear spot for her to stand on without wetting the thin leather; he would need to talk to the shoemakers of the village, and seamstresses and tailors also, to make some appropriate Eldian winter clothes for her, or else the Princess wouldn’t last a week without falling ill. Erwin had no doubts about Hange’s healing skills, but he was sure Friederich wouldn’t be pleased, to say it mildly.

Once he was satisfied and saw the deep green of the wet grass, Erwin looked up, finding the Princess staring at him and being caught red handed. The Princess quickly averted her gaze, embarrassed at her lack of decorum, and Erwin saw how her cheeks and ears flushed quite prominently. He tried to quell her anxiousness with a smile, moving closer to her and grabbing the stirrup so she could set her right heel on it, trying to make clear to her that he didn’t take it as an offense. The Princess let the Chief guide her, unconsciously tightening her grip on the horn of the saddle when the Eldian leader gently took her leather-clad ankle and made her put it on the stirrup. The Princess was reminded, once again, how massive this man was.

The Chief raised his left hand, signaling her to take it. Once she did, timidly posing her hand on his, and thinking he would only aid her to not fall flat on her face, the Chief surprised her by gently tugging her hand forward, on top of his shoulder, and making her body inevitably fall forward. Eva’s other hand had shooted onwards, joining the other on his opposite shoulder. The Princess let out a tiny gasp when she felt both the gravity do its job and the Chief’s hands grasp her waist, easily picking her up like she did on the banquet’s dance from last night, and easing her down on her feet right on the spot he cleared earlier. The Chief watched the flurry of skirts and cloak flow as she landed, reminding him of the summer snowflakes that bloomed in Spring. Even in her unfamiliarity of her environment, the Chief thought of her unconscious gracefulness elegant.

She really was small.

His hands felt like they were a perfect fit.

The clearing of someone’s throat brought them both back to the present, their little bubble being popped off. They both turned to see Levi impatiently waiting with his arms crossed, and in the distance, the Chief could see Friederich’s stare hurling dagger after dagger at him. Throwing an apologetic smile towards the Prince, because he knew it would be useless on his friend, the Chief let go of her waist as the Princess hurriedly withdrew her hands from his shoulders, as if she had been burned. Levi said something to the Chief, which he answered with his usual smile and cheeky retorts that made Levi want to smack him.

Both eldians kept talking while Levi walked towards the Chief’s horse, taking the reins and tugging the enormous beast with him, leaving the Chief to deal with the Princess. Said man turned to her, offering his arm like he did back at the village. Eva tightened her closed fists before forcing herself to unclench them, accepting the Chief’s invitation and letting him guide her back to the rest of the party.

Flora was already inside the tent, a dusting of red on her cheeks too as she helped ready the wooden folding stools, putting thick pelts on the stool’s fabric seat. Nanaba was fanning the beginnings of a fire, while Mike helped her by setting more logs nearby for when they would be needed, and making sure the smoke vent opening of the tent was secure and working. There was a table with various objects laid in it, going from bowls to sage sticks, a dark powder and other items that were going to be used shortly, to a bow and a quiver full of arrows. Moblit was conversing with Prince Hans, seemingly talking about the Eldian tent and how it worked, comparing it with the Gottesreichan ones. Friederich tagged along, but was absolutely ignoring the conversation in favour of watching the Chief and his sister come inside.

The Eldian warriors saluted their Chief and went back to their chores and preparations. Moblit took the cue to lead the Gottesreichan princes to their Chief, awaiting his leader’s signal to proceed with the marital ritual. They all waited until every single one of the preparations were done, so there would be no disturbances from now on.

Moblit explained the next step of the ritual, mindful to describe and illustrate each stage of it so it was clear to everyone and didn’t lead to any misunderstandings. Eva shivered at the mention of blood, not being very keen at the sight of it. From her culture’s perspective, this was truly barbaric. What did Father get her into? As Moblit finished, they began the ritual, not wanting to delay it further and kept exposing the Gottesreichan guests to the cold.

First, we must cleanse the betrothed of negative energy.

Nanaba took her cue, as one of the village’s priestesses, and walked to the table, taking the sage stick with her. She approached the fire and let the tip of the sage stick ignite, blowing on the flame so it would burn slowly. The smoke from the stick began to float around the tent, it’s minty scent reaching everyone present in it. The eldian warrior moved to where the Chief and the Princess stood, gently commanding them to stand in the proper way, with both their hands clasped together and facing each other. Eva’s heart made a leap, wanting to get out of her mouth at the closeness for the tenth time this day. What was it with Eldians and their need for… for proximity?!

This was not like the dance, where they parted quickly to follow the music. The Princess had to endure looking at those intense blue eyes, gazing back at her, and fight every single fibre of her being to not flee and hide herself behind a tree or anything that managed to conceal her. His stare was unnerving, not because he was looking at her in any unsolicited way, but because she was not used at all to look into a man’s eyes, sans her brothers, and now she had to.

Nanaba lifted the stick, the smoke following her movements and leaving a mystical trail behind it. She began speaking and chanting in Eldian with a beautiful and soft voice, reminiscing Eva of a gentle lullaby sung by doting mothers. Nanaba’s lips had a kind smile painted on them as she kept chanting and passing the burning sage around and between them. Every Eldian warrior present in the tent slowly joined in, their voices harmonically blending together. It was beautiful, otherworldly but enchanting in a magical way. Eva felt her tense shoulders slightly relax as the voices soothed her anxiety.

Flora looked mesmerised at the cleansing ritual. Back home this would be straight out heresy and sin, any sort of witchcraft more than strictly prohibited; it’s penalty was death. But it was impossible to look away, it bewitched you to maintain your gaze on it as if two hands gently guided your gaze and didn’t let go. The handmaiden didn’t have to look at her side to see the Princes being transfixed as she was, she knew. Who could look away from it?

As the chanting came to an end, slowly, kindly as before, the voices quieted down as Nanaba held the sage stick above their heads, closing her eyes with the finishing Eldian words. The Gottesreichan guests felt the immense urge to erupt into applause, almost feeling unworthy of having witnessed something so unique and private to their culture. Nanaba stepped back, leaving the burning sage to keep letting out its smoke in a stone plate as she prepared the next stage of the ritual.

Once cleansed, the bride must paint her groom’s ancestors marks to honour his name and household, so he may enter the challenge bearing his warrior’s marks.

Nanaba took a bowl and started mixing water, oil and the powder that had been carefully set before inside a leather pouch. With expert movements, she created the paint used for their body paintings and markings, that deep and rich blue Eva had seen on the warriors and the Chief upon arriving on Eldia. The paint looked thick as Nanaba lifted the stone pestle from the mortar, watching the blue liquid drip down.

The warrior took the mortar, leaving the pestle on the table on top of a cloth, and walked back to the Chief and the Princess. She was smiling at them both, giving Eva an air of tranquility and peace with her gentle movements and soft expression. Nanaba held the mortar in her hands, holding it a bit higher so the Princess had it easier to dip her fingers in. The Chief let go of her hands and Eva took them back, not wanting to think about his warmth. The Princess busied herself by taking off her gloves, the tips of her ears turning red in embarrassment when one of the gloves got stuck at a finger, her trembling hands not helping her one bit. Both Nanaba and the Chief waited patiently, not giving any signals of annoyance or disdain for her clumsiness, as she would have expected from Father. Finally, she got rid of the stupid glove, and before she had to turn back to look for a surface to leave them on, her handmaiden took the initiative and stepped forward, hoping she wasn’t intruding much into the ritual. Flora took the gloves in silence, far gone was her cheery and cheeky smile, replaced by a solemn and serious expression. Flora stepped back into her place beside the Gottesreichan Princes, carefully holding the expensive gloves in her hands.

Nanaba presented the mortar and Eva couldn’t be more lost than she was right now. She had to draw the warrior’s ancestor’s mark, but she had absolutely no idea what those were. The paintings he had yesterday on the Great Hall’s stairs? A stripe? Dots? Hand print? Eva looked at the mortar as if it held all the answers to her questions, desperately hoping it provided an answer… but it was just a stone mortar. Nanaba’s eyes widened in realisation, and caught the Princess’ attention by letting go of the mortar with one hand and lifting it to her own face. Eva stared at her fingers as they mimicked the lines she had to draw on the Chief’s face. Nanaba could see her relieved and profoundly thankful face, and was relieved herself too as it would have been quite disastrous and insightful of her to assume she would know them. Nanaba presented the mortar again and this time Eva lifted her own trembling hand to dip her fingers into the paint.

It was cold and thick, and undoubtedly got under her nails –Flora wouldn’t be pleased about that– but still, Eva let her fingers thoroughly dip into it, preparing herself mentally for having to touch the Chief herself. But, there was another problem.

He was too damn tall.

Eva couldn’t reach his face without struggling to do so, straining her arms and body to reach him more easily, so she did not know how to ask the Chief to bend slightly down, so she wouldn’t make an embarrassing mess of the job. Eva still had her fingers inside the mortar, debating herself how to do it without dripping excessive paint on the floor and on their own clothes. Taking a deep breath, Eva decided to try her luck. Lifting her fingers, she let the excess of paint drop back down into the mortar, moving them out of it when she deemed it safe enough.

The Chief didn’t stop gazing at her the entire time, patiently awaiting and enduring the ritual, and it only fueled her own nerves. What would he think of her if she made a disastrous mess? No! No, don’t let those thoughts in now, concentrate. Eva unconsciously bit her bottom lip, trying to quell the knots in her stomach, and completely obviated the way the Chief’s eyes quickly shifted down and back up. As she predicted, the Princess had trouble reaching his face, and inevitably watched a drop run down her hand and fall down, hitting his boot. Eva gasped, lurching back her hand and feeling her throat squeeze in itself. Oh no, no no no– this was terrible, catastrophic! Eva felt her lungs run out of air as her throat kept squeezing itself, feeling how her eyes stung and began to gather unshed tears.

Eva screwed up, she screwed it up badly. Was the stain permanent? Could she ask Flora for help in how to remove it? The Princess did not dare to look up at the Chief, knowing this would only end in punishment. Eva only hoped the Chief would be merciful to some extent, knowing she would have to pay for ruining his boots. Oh dear, this was bad. So bad. She couldn’t even do one single stupid task, Father was right–

Eva’s blurry vision filled itself with the Chief’s body and concerned face, having knelt down to try to bring the Princess back from her spiral of dread. His hand tenderly touched her face, trying to make her focus on him. The Chief felt anger bubbling inside him, witnessing first hand, sadly, what the brothers told him about their Father and their little sister. This wasn’t a normal reaction, this was someone who expected severe physical punishment, someone who lived in fear. Dear Goddesses above, he wanted to punch that man.

The Chief tried to calm her down as one would do with a scared animal, executing slow and open-handed movements so they saw he meant no threat or harm. The Chief ventured a reassuring smile, his hand on her cheek not moving and forcing her to see how he was not mad. Erwin didn’t have to look behind the Princess to see everyone’s concerned faces, or the Princes ready to storm in –mainly Friederich– and secure their sister.

The Eldian leader moved her dripping fingers towards his face, letting go of her own delicate face, and still kneeling at her feet. Eva never wanted to disappear more than she did right now; not only was she a huge embarrassment, but the Chief had to kneel at her feet. No noble or royal would lower themselves down for a peasant or foreigner, and yet, this Chieftain did without thinking twice. The Chief closed his eyes, waiting for the feel of her fingertips on his skin as if he was a venerable knight awaiting for his Princess’ touch at the throne room. The Princess swallowed down, harshly, gathered what resolve she could and went back to the ritual.

Her hand was shaking, still not fully recovered from the scare, and involuntarily flinched her fingers when they touched his skin for the first time. The Princess scrambled to remember what Nanaba showed her: first, a wide stripe across his nose, from cheek to cheek. Eva willed her hand to move and felt her breath stutter for a completely different reason than her fear.

His skin was warm and surprisingly soft to the touch. The Chief did not move upon feeling her fingers run across his face, keeping himself perfectly still so she could do a perfect application. Eva watched mesmerised as her digits easily glided on his skin, eyes glued to how long and blonde his eyelashes were. Eva knew many noble ladies and princesses would envy him for being so naturally gifted. They fanned down his cheeks, and in this perspective and light, it made his cheekbones sharper and nose stand proudly on his face, and it went along with his bushy and thick eyebrows, something she couldn’t help but notice right away from him. Eva discovered the Chief had some faint freckles sprayed across his broad nose, undoubtedly from being exposed to so many hours a day in the sun, contrary to her who was always kept in the shadows. Even his blonde hair looked shiny and soft to the touch, not a single doubt in her mind that the Chief had taken care of bathing himself thoroughly for today.

Eva realised that the Chief was… handsome.

He possessed that beauty of men.

Eva noticed her fingers had run dry, like her mouth. Feeling her cheeks heat up, Eva turned to Nanaba, trying to distract her thoughts by dipping her fingers again in the paint. This time Eva felt more confident, seeing how the Chief was still patiently kneeling at her feet and completely trusted her. This time, too, Eva felt bolder, reaching for his face, hovering over his jaw, to help guide her own hand into an even line. Her fingers resumed the glide on the bridge of his nose, and gulled up all the small details and movements he made, like the controlled breath, how he unconsciously raised his head to her touch, the way his eyelids fluttered when he felt her fingers smooth down his other cheek…

Eva had never been this close to a man before.

Her heart thumped wildly at the realisation of it, how in her secluded life, she had never been next to a man that… intimately close. For a moment, Eva lost track of what she was doing, having her fingers hovering over his cheek. The sight of him swallowing and watching his Adam's apple bob, snapped out of her trance. Lost, Eva looked back at Nanaba, who immediately caught up and showed her the next lines she had to make. Two lines on his left eye and cheek, and three to the right. Eva watched which fingers Nanaba used, replicating the same movements on the Chief’s face.

Her fingers gently stroked down his cheek, accidentally brushing the tips of her fingers on his long lashes. Eva felt and saw them twitch, and had an apology ready on her lips even though he couldn’t understand a single syllable of it. But seeing the corner of his mouth twitch up made the words get stuck in her throat. Was he enjoying this? Her clumsy and pathetic attempt? Did he find her mistakes amusing?

That dread and hollowing sensation in her mind and chest came back with a vengeance. Sucking a breath in, Eva continued on autopilot, finishing the other three stripes on the other side of the face. The Chief noticed the trembling on her fingers return, and once the markings were done, the Chieftain immediately opened his striking eyes, zeroing on the Princess and finding that anguished and anxious expression on her face again. In the distance, both of them could hear Nanaba speak and Moblit translate it for the foreigners, signaling it was time for the third part of the ritual.

Eva swallowed a whimper, having the Chieftain’s entire attention on her and not knowing what to make of it. Was he mad? Was he trying to intimidate her?

The Eldian Chief didn’t let Eva dwell much into her restless thoughts, taking her stained hand in his. It was sudden, and a tiny gasp escaped her mouth. Nanaba already prepared the basin with warm water to clean the fingers, and the Chief stood up to his full height, not releasing her hand. Testing the water first and deeming it acceptable, the Chief dipped the offered cloth that rested on Nanaba’s forearm, gently wiping the Princess’ fingers. He took most of the paint off, but would need a thorough scrubbing when they got back into the village. To finally get rid of most of the paint, the Chief submerged the fingers inside the water, letting the liquid melt the dried chunks of paint.

Eva watched the pigments disperse into the water, not daring to look back at the Eldian leader and feeling her cheeks blaze up.

The next step was blessing the weapon used for the hunting, a traditional Eldian bow used for this ritual. The groom had to hunt their prey using only that bow and arrows, a dagger only for if they needed to defend themselves if the occasion arose. Nanaba took the still burning sage stick, lifting it from the plate and passing it over the bow, quill and arrows. Then he motioned Eva to approach her, the Chief letting go of her hand and watching her walk to where Nanaba needed her to be. The eldian warrior passed the bow to Eva, instructing her to stand in front of the Chief as Nanaba said something in Eldian and passed the sage around and across them.

Eva could see how magnificent and a work of art this bow was. Completely black, big and with gold motifs on its wood of the same engravings all across the village. The Princess was used to the simpler ones, made of wood, leather and a string. This one was the masterpiece of an artisan, many hours and work poured into this superb piece. It was almost a shame it was going to be used, afraid of having a single scratch on its perfectly polished surface.

When Nanaba finished, she nodded at the Princess to offer the blessed bow to the Chief, who in turn got down on one knee and bowed, accepting the weapon. They repeated this step for the quiver and arrows, the Chief silently taking them in reverence.

Now, it was the fourth and final step of the ritual before the hunting began.

The bride must send off the groom, wishing him luck and for the Goddesses to bless the hunting.

And how was Eva supposed to do that? Did she have to wave goodbye as she watched him disappear into the woods? Say something? Do a certain thing? Her mind was racing, trying to find something suitable to do. Nanaba wouldn’t help her this time, since this was a step that the bride must do alone. Panic was taking over, her brain struggling to find something suitable to send the Chief off. So, as a mind in panic often did, Eva’s went blank, and did the first thing that came into mind.

She read about it in her secret books, blushing at the romanticism of it and thinking what would Eva do in the heroine’s place.

Well, now she knew.

Eva bent down, gently holding the Chief’s face in her hands and letting her lips touch his forehead in a feather-light, soft kiss, murmuring “good luck” into his skin.

That surprised everyone.

Including the Chief.

And herself.

The Eldian leader looked back at her with wide eyes and his mouth slightly open. This was completely unexpected. Now the groom had to answer the bride, and it was the Chief’s turn to have a blank mind. He should correspond her gesture.

The Chief took her hand again and lifted it to his lips, never tearing his eyes away from her and her flushed and embarrassed face. He saw the Princess’ cheeks redden further as she felt the soft press of his own lips on the back of her hand, and kept gazing at her as he stood up and saluted her with the Eldian salute, bowing while doing so.

Eva watched the Chieftain turn around and march towards the tent’s entrance, the Princess noticing how the tips of his ears had a red flush on them, too. He didn’t turn back, Eva watching his broad shoulders disappear outside the tent.

Now, they had to wait for him to come back.

Levi had busied himself into making tea for everyone. Their guests were seated on the wooden stools near the fire, keeping them warm. It had been quite a while since the Chief had departed, and Eva’s hand and lips still felt as if they had been set ablaze by the contact of their skins. Thankfully, nobody questioned her “sending off” or inquired further about it, but as Levi handed out a cup to everyone, Prince Hand turned to face his sister.

“Eva,” he did not want to spook her more than she already was. Hans knew Eva hated being the center of attention, and since her arrival she had only been on everyone’s sights. “About earlier, in the forest.”

The Crown Prince saw his sister visibly tense up.

Moblit kept an eye on the siblings.

“It was nothing.” Eva kept her voice low, not wanting to disturb anyone. She felt like a bother, having to be babysat by the Eldian warriors. Moblit explained how it would usually be the priestess, the bride and groom and witnesses from both sides of the betrotheds, one for each side of the family. So she had more than double of the necessary witnesses. Like a defenseless, useless child.

But she was.

You are nothing more than a pretty doll.

She was.

Your job is to stand still and obey.

“Nothing makes you almost throw yourself off a horse.” Hans pushed the issue, not wanting to let it go. Not yet.

Eva felt the grip on her tea cup tighten at his insistence, and trying to not answer the question just yet, Eva lifted it to her lips and took a sip, eyes casted down to the floor.

“The wind…”

“Eva, please.” Hans’s hand landed on her forearm, making Eva look at her concerned brother with guilt in her eyes. Hans knew his sister never truly showed her feelings or thoughts, always keeping them to herself so she would not be a bother. “I beg you. If there’s something out there, not only you are in danger, but the Chief is now that he ventured alone into the woods.”

Eva felt a pang of culpability and shame at how selfish she had been. Hans was right, the Chieftain could be in danger because of her own childish fears and stupidity. They all could be. Swallowing down a wet sigh, Eva looked at her brother with a regretful gaze.

“I saw a stag, but it was... unnatural. It… it glowed a blue light, as if it was made of light itself.” Eva awaited for a sneer, a laugh at her wild, immature imagination. Eva waited for her father’s eyes to pin her to the ground with disdain and disgust in them. But Hans frowned, concerned.

“A magical creature?” Hans hummed to himself, leaning back in his seat and taking back his arm, his hand absentmindedly stroking his well kept beard. A magical creature made more sense.

Gottesreich was under their father’s strict rule, and everyone knew how no magical creature could thrive in their Kingdom. Father made sure of it. Countless wars, countless battles and marches of their army into their territories to extinguish the heresy, the sinners. Countless resources spent on Father’s crusade. Hans had to admit at first he believed it. Father told him how they took mother away, how it was their fault. Father told him how they were dangerous, treacherous, dishonest and double-crossing. Father had to cleanse the world from them.

But seeing first hand how they, the Holy Kingdom of Gottesreich, were the true sinners and heretics, how they were the murderers of the innocent… Hans and Friederich would never forget the faces of those children. That was their breaking point. The start of their rebellion.

Eva had never been exposed to magic, always been taught to fear it and the creatures that used and thrived in it, so it made sense she was afraid of the unknown. But a small part of his brain whispered how the creatures were angry at them, rightfully so. They knew who they were, where they came from. Gottesreich was a name they would spit on it, curse it, detest it.

“Magical creature?” Eva’s eyes widened in fear, the dark blue stare of the stag flashing in her mind. Father told them how they were blood-thirsty and traitorous beings. If that creature was in the woods… The Chief was in danger! “Brother, if that is true, then we must aid the Chieftain! That creature is going to–”

“My deepest apologies for intruding in your conversation, your Highnesses.” Moblit cut Eva’s anguished pleas. Hans and Eva turned to the eldian warrior. “But I think I must take part in it and clear up some misunderstandings.”

“Misunderstandings?” Prince Hans frowned.

“We are in the Old Forest of the Ancient Gods.” A chill ran down Eva’s spine. Ancient Gods? “This is a sacred place for the Eldians, as it is both the residence of the magical creatures and the start of our people, of Eldia. If Your Highnesses fancy it, I can explain in more detail about our deities and ancient history when we get back to the village after the ritual comes to its end.” Prince Hans nodded, quite interested in expanding his knowledge of their allies. “But, as I was saying, these woods gave us food and shelter when we needed it, and provided us with the sacred woods to make our homes.”

That explained the archaic looking pillars scattered on the village and in its houses, with their markings and engravings.

“We respect the ancient creatures living in this forest, and do not take what we are not allowed to. We aim to protect them as they protected us.” Moblit waited for the siblings to process his words, and took a moment to breathe. “Probably, the creature you saw, Your Highness, was the Guardian of the Forest. It is said it has an unnatural size and antlers that are as big as tree branches. It doesn’t often appear to guests, so it must have sensed you.”

“Is… is that bad?” She didn’t want to be sensed. She wanted to be left alone.

“Not precisely.” That didn’t really quell any fears in the Princess’ heart. “The Guardian is a curious creature, and has no ill intentions towards those who pose no threat.”

Moblit didn’t mention how The Guardian sensed rarities.

“I really don’t wish for a confrontation with anyone, specially… magical creatures, or old gods.” Eva fought every fiber of her being to not shiver at the thought of it. What would she be able to do, a mere defenseless human, against powerful beings?

“I’m sure The Guardian knows that well, Your Highness. They are wise.”

“Then…” Eva looked down at her hands, still gloveless and with a bit of a blue stain on her fingertips, clutching tightly the tea cup. “Why did The Guardian… charge towards me?”

“Charge, Your Highness?”

Eva felt a bolt of courage go through her body. Maybe this would answer some questions she had.

“The Guardian fixed its eyes on me, or at least it felt like it was doing that, and… and also as if he was looking deep inside on me, as if it was somehow searching for something. I felt… bare. Defenseless.” her grip on the cup tightened. “Then, The Guardian charged towards me, that’s why I almost fell from the horse. It… was as if I had been knocked down by a strong wind, breath leaving my lungs. Did I do something to cross it?”

Eva immediately felt as if she said too much, talked way too much than was strictly necessary. Her mouth had run off as if she was a charlatan. Where did her manners go?

The Princess refused to look up at her brother and the Eldian warrior, knowing how they probably found her lack of decorum distasteful, babbling so much. She kept her gaze on the tea, gently shining from the torches and fire.

“Ah…” Moblit took a pensive stance, going through the Princess’ words to find a suitable explanation. “Be at ease, Your Highness, I highly doubt you did something to raise The Guardian’s wrath upon yourself. As its name says, it’s the guardian of the forest, so they are cautious of newcomers. They are of the spiritual realm, so I don’t think I err by saying that he… actually looked into your soul.” Eva raised her eyes at the Eldian warrior, slightly nauseated at the thought of being looked at in such intimate and personal places where even herself couldn’t see, and unconsciously rubbed her hand on her chest. Moblit greeted her with a smile, which only increased Eva’s displeasure. “The Guardian deemed you worthy.”

“Then, what about the rest of us?” Friederich spoke up.

“The Guardian didn’t even see you as a threat.” Moblit didn’t even bat his eyes once, and kept his amiable smile.

Friederich didn’t know if to feel insulted or not. He opted to be comforted by the thought of it, considering the red staining his hands.

“Good to know, then.” Friederich crossed his arms over his chest, looking back at the fire.

“I hope this appeased your worries, Your Highness. I assure you The Guardian meant no harm, and I understand you might have been confused by its actions, since I… ah, know that you didn’t have many encounters with magical creatures.”

“Thank you kindly, Moblit. I do feel more at ease.” Lies. She was scared shitless.

“If you have any more questions, please do not hesitate to ask me, Your Highnesses. I am here to be of as much help as I can be.” Eva forced herself to smile as an answer.

Hans asked Moblit something that was in his mind, his insatiable curiosity taking over, and Eva immediately removed herself from the conversation. The Princess took a sip of her tea, as if it would help her gulp down and digest the massive amounts of information she had just been fed right now. The mere thought of having magical creatures freely roaming the lands deeply unsettled her. Weren’t they dangerous, as Father said? Did the Eldians really trust those creatures? Was she, her brothers and Flora truly safe?

Nanaba appeared on her right, kneeling down and letting one of her hands gently rest on her wrist. She had a warm smile on her lips, reaching her eyes, and her demeanour and aura told Eva that under the warrior garments, she was a kind and sweet woman. Eva felt as if the Eldian warrior was trying to reassure her in some way, as if she understood completely what the conversation had been about. Maybe she knew Gottesreichan?

But with Prince Hans and Moblit’s voices in the background, the fire happily creaking, Flora’s quiet presence beside her and Nanaba’s gentle care, she let herself be persuaded into a more calm state.

Now all they had to do was wait for the Chieftain’s return.

It had been many hours since the Chief departed into the woods, the sun having moved from its position in the sky and changing the lights inside the tent, and with every hour that passed, Eva feared something happened to the man. Even if they just met and Eva couldn’t make out his character or intentions yet, she thought no-one should die alone in the woods.

Moblit and the other warrior’s nods reassured her the Chief was one of the best hunters of the village, no-one outbesting Levi in that matter, but the Chief was good. The marital ritual was an exercise of patience not only for the hunter, but for the one who awaited their soon to be spouse to come back. Still, Eva thought the Chief had been gone too long, and that worried her.

As Levi served the Princess another cup of tea, a distant sound could be heard from outside the tent. Immediately, the Eldian warriors stood to attention, looking at each other as they heard the sound repeat itself, now closer. The Gottesreichan guests looked at each other with mirrored confused expressions. Was something out of the ordinary?

Mike moved first, walking to the entrance of the tent and stepping out of it. Then they heard Mike let out another sound, as if answering the first one, and the Princess realised it was similar to bird calls, so inconspicuous to the untrained ears but useful for its users. The first call answered Mike back, and the giant warrior came back in to open the tent’s entrance and tie the fabric to the pole, securing a perfect view of outside.

It was as if time slowed down, holding their breaths, but everyone present inside the tent could see a massive silhouette slowly approach them. Everyone sprung into action at once, and Moblit’s gentle words could be heard amongst the ruckus of boots and cloaks, explaining to the Gottesreichan guests the next steps of the ritual.

The bride must welcome back the groom from their hunt. The groom will present their hunting piece to his betrothed–

Nanaba came by the Princess’s side and urged her to leave the tea and stand up with her, making her walk to the entrance itself. The Princess stood, frozen, at the very edge of the tent, and she could feel the winter breeze caress her face, the warmth of the fire behind her back.

Then she saw him.

The Chieftain was back. Safe and with the prize.

He succeeded.

Eva didn’t know she had been holding her breath, but as the Chief neared the tent, Eva released the burning air out of her lungs.

His hair was disheveled, no doubt from the little bouts of wind, but overall he appeared unscathed. Eva’s eyes widened upon realisation of what he was carrying on his robust shoulders: a massive stag that surely weighed like three cows without the antlers. If Eva could, she would laugh at the irony of that.

The Princess could see his muscles bulging from the strain of carrying such an enormous animal, and she instinctively swallowed down at the sight of her soon-to-be husband when the wind picked up and opened his Eldian cloak, flapping behind him. Her mind was a garbled, confused mess. Was this what she would see, everyday, from now on?

But his eyes were burning. Eva felt herself be pinned down by them, by their determination and purpose. If Eva had been one of her forbidden novel’s heroines, she would have fainted at the sight of a big, barbaric strong man coming her way. Instead, she willed her legs to hold her up and patiently await his arrival. She still had a role to play in this ritual, as Moblit said earlier.

The Chief stopped in front of her, heaving from the effort, but exchanged no words, only his hypnotic blue gaze. Eva watched, with her own eyes wide open, as the Chief eased down the stag to the snow covered ground with the utmost care, and not even breaking his eye contact with her. The Eldian leader presented his hunting piece and kneeled down, awaiting the next step the Princess had to carry on.

–and the bride must take out the sacred arrow from the hunting piece. The bride must show it to the witnesses as proof the groom succeeded in the trial.

Just the mere thought of it made Eva want to bolt back inside the tent.

The Princess willed her legs to move forward, her boots thudding on the snow. The Chief patiently waited for her to come, quietly regaining his breath. Eva gathered her skirts, lifting them slightly as she courtly bowed before the stag and the Chief, hoping that would suffice as a welcome back. He didn’t move, so she thought it worked.

Eva approached them slowly, as if she was desperately gathering all her will and resolve to do the next part. The Princess kneeled down herself too in front of the animal, eyes glued to the beautiful black and gold arrow embedded in the stag’s thick neck. Her hands couldn’t stop trembling as she raised them, and involuntarily flinched when some of her fingers brushed the still warm skin. The Princess released a stuttered breath as her hands neared the arrow. Then, she stopped there, unable to move further.

The Chief’s hands appeared in her vision, gently wrapping his gloved fingers around her own hands, guiding them into the proper position. His touch was reassuring and Eva’s eyes quickly flashed up to the Eldian leader. He was solemn, but not cold. He didn’t seem disappointed, either. The Chief nodded towards their hands, showing Eva how she must pull out the arrow. Releasing a deep breath, Eva wrapped her fingers around the arrow, the other one setting next to it on top of the skin. Press and pull. She could do this.

Press and pull.

Eva did not want to think about the skin pulling up with the arrow head, or the blood trickling down as it moved upwards, but she had to do it. The faster she did it, the sooner she would be out of that situation.

Press and pull.

Inevitably pulling her lips into a grimace, biting them afterwards, the Princess pulled the arrow out with all the strength she could muster. The squelch was sickening and Eva wanted to lurch and vomit the tea she had just been drinking. Her hands sprouted back into a shaking and she could not tear her eyes away from the droplets of blood falling down the arrowhead into the white snow, staining it.

The Chief’s hands curled around her face, tearing her gaze away from the blood and into his concerned blue eyes. Eva felt her breathing harden, her lungs squeezing on themselves, but the Chief managed to keep her grounded enough to not faint. The Eldian leader managed a tiny smile, as if he wanted to show her how proud he was of her, or that’s what Eva would like to believe. He nodded towards the tent where the other Eldian warriors awaited the proof of the groom’s success. Eva assented, getting back up on her feet with the Chief’s help. He even brushed off the snow off her dress and patiently waited for the signal to come in.

Eva clumsily turned around and walked towards the entrance, so mechanically she wanted to slap herself in shame. Her hands tightened around the arrow, willing herself to calm down, for God’s sake.

Nanaba was the first to greet her with a kind smile. She looked down at her hands as Eva presented the arrow, and her smile widened when she saw that the Chief, indeed, succeeded. Nanaba turned around, making Eva step forward and present the arrow to everyone else. The female warrior said something in Eldian as she did so, and everyone relaxed immediately. Eva quickly ventured her eyes to look at her brothers and handmaiden. She hoped her eyes screamed out her message: I want to go home already.

Thankfully Nanaba made her turn around to face her and made her close her fingers around the arrow, pressing it to her chest. She had to keep that arrow, as Moblit said earlier when explaining the next step.

The bride must carry the arrow in her hands home, showing it to the village as proof, also, that the marital ritual was a success and the Goddesses bless this union.

The arrow was going to be hung in the house walls she would share with the Chief soon, since it would become some sort of talisman or charm for their union. Eva didn’t know if she would get used to the sight of it, but hoped she would manage to look at it fondly one day.

Nanaba went to the entrance, seconds later the Chief himself entered the tent with his heavy boots thudding on the ground. The Eldian warriors solemnly saluted him and he answered with a nod.

“The ritual was a success.” Moblit’s voice announced to the Gottesreichan guests. “The Goddesses have blessed the start of their journey together.”

It was official then. They would marry in two months.

The journey back to the village was spent in silence too.

The Eldian warriors had carried and secured the stag into the wooden cart, knowing it would be tonight’s main dish at the evening banquet. Eva didn’t know if she would be able to stomach it down after the encounter earlier.

It was uneventful, too, if Eva didn’t count the fact that she had to spend the entire ride back on the Chief’s massive beast of a horse again, his hand on her waist, and God forgive her for the strangled gasp she gave and the furious blush on her cheeks, when the Chief tried to rearrange the flowers from her hair.

The Guardian did not appear again, or Eva felt its presence inside her mind. It was as if the creature had vanished, and Eva didn’t know if to feel glad for it. Her grip on the beautiful black arrow tightened, hoping it all had been worth it. She just wanted her life here to be as peaceful and harmonious as possible, not wanting to be much of a burden as she was already being. At least, that’s how she felt, either here or in Father's presence.

The horse’s gait was a slow and peaceful one, just like when they first came to the forest. Looking to her left, Eva saw the long-haired cows from earlier, still munching on the little bouts of grass and plants there were left from the freezing snow, their bells softly chiming in the distance. They looked like they had no worries, no duties to perform, no expected performances… nothing. Just help the farmers and munch on their grass. They still brought a smile on her lips.

In the distance Eva could see the village’s walls and main gate appear. Her stomach twisted itself inside, feeling her throat squeeze in and her fingers tremble. She would have to be the main attraction of the ritual now, with a public. Eva knew she should be used to it, being a Princess and dealing with courts and public speeches back at the Kingdom, but nothing compared to speaking and interacting with people from another kingdom, as if you were part of them. She felt like an impostor trying to fit in.

Moblit explained earlier how she would have to proceed upon entering the village, and gulping down her nerves, she looked up at the sky, trying to gather any strength and resolve that hadn’t left her yet. The arrow was secure, wrapped in a cloth, and the bride carried it the entire journey, she couldn’t mess this up. As they neared the entrance, the guards stood straighter into attention and announced the Chief’s return. People started gathering on the main street of the village, eager to see if the Chief had been successful.

The Eldian leader guided the horse far enough into the main street for the rest of the entourage to enter the village too, gently stopping it when it was time for Eva to present the arrow. Everyone was waiting, holding their breaths, eyes wide with curiosity and eagerness. Even the kids remained silent, albeit jumping on their feet and tugging at their mother’s skirts in impatience.

The Princess looked down at her hands.

Unwrap the arrow. Present it. Keep it until you share the same roof.

Oh dear God above. She wanted to run.

Eva’s fingers couldn’t stop their nervous tremors, slowly picking the cloth, careful to not let it fall. She swallowed hard, as if she had a ball of sawdust in her mouth, tongue dry.

C’mon, you useless Princess. Present the arrow, do your job.

An overwhelmed whimper threatened to escape from her throat, the events of yesterday, today and the undoubtedly nerve-wracking ones from the future piling up together. Not now, not now! She would have time to cry later in the privacy of her room!

A soft murmur of foregin words reached her ears, gentle words and hands guiding her and managing to, somehow, pull back the unstoppable string of dark thoughts her mind subjected her to. His thick gloved hands helped steady her own, and once he deemed it safe enough, his hands returned to her waist and the horse’s reins, making Eva feel as if she had been enveloped in a warm and caring cocoon, saying “you got this. You can do it.” Eva chose to believe those words, at least for now.

The arrow was still an impressive work of art, although stained with the now dry blood of the stag. It shone, the black lacquer without a crack or scratch, it’s feathers in perfect condition. Eva lifted it from the cloth, leaving the fabric on top of her dress skirts, and holding it on both her hands, Eva raised her arms, showing the arrow to everyone present.

The entire village erupted into cheers and shouts, children screaming excitedly as they let themselves share their parents’ happiness, also never missing an opportunity to make a ruckus without being reprimanded. The Eldian villagers clapped, whistled, let out relieved breaths… everyone was genuinely happy their Chief managed to complete the ritual to perfection. Eva ventured a look back at the Chief and she found him smiling fondly at his villagers before looking at her, still that fond gaze in his blue eyes. Eva looked straight ahead, her ears red.

The Chief willed his horse to move again slowly and mindful of the villagers on both sides of the street. Eva lowered her arms, setting the arrow back into the cloth and covering it, not daring to look anywhere else but the horse’s beautiful crest.

“I think I will need the wine this time.”

Eva eyed the magnificently cooked meat in front of her, knowing it was the stag that the Chief hunted today. She didn’t want anything to do with those animals, at least for a while.

Flora looked at her Princess in concern, eyeing the goblet in front of her.

“That bad?” Flora pried some information in their secluded rooms, changing the Princess into her evening gown, a beautiful amber and golden piece with open shoulders and an elegant cleavage line. Flora outdid herself again with her hair, her braids held together with a dazzling and intricate piece of jewelry that glinted with the torche’s lights, part of a matching set of earrings and a necklace that gracefully accentuated the Princess’ delicate neck. Flora thought the entire ensemble matched the Chief’s golden hair.

Eva had explained a bit of what had happened, her more intimate and personal thoughts, and some details of the Chief’s gentleness that surprised her. Flora squealed in delight at those, her hopeless romantic heart beating wildly on those stories.

“That bad.”

“Well, this time you will be more prepared if the Chief asks you for a dance.” Eva sighed at that, recalling how youthful his face had been in his bout of mischievousness at the dance. Is this what awaited her? A husband who enjoyed torturing his wife’s poor nerves?

“I hope he doesn’t.”

He did.

Her lungs burned from the strain, not used at all at the Eldian dancing pace and rhythm. It was frenetic, lively and Eva was not prepared for the whirlwind that was dancing with the Chief, with his massive hands on her waist and back, picking and twirling her up in the air. Eva tried to enjoy it this time.

The Chief saw the Princess’ eyes shine like her jewels in the Great Hall’s fires, cheeks rosy and lips parted to take much needed air as the dance ended. Erwin understood now the allure of dancing.

Bowing as the couples parted and gave room to newer, fresher ones, the Chief took the Princess back to the table, guiding her with her hand delicately posed on his raised one. Eva was surprised when the Chief pulled her chair back and pushed it in its place again when she was seated, as if he was a servant. Flora watched the exchange with raised brows, trying to swallow the piece of meat and bread without making an uncouth spectacle.

Eva went straight for her goblet, trying to avoid the Chief’s attention and quickly looking with a bewildered stare at her handmaiden.

“Well, that was unexpected.” Flora chewed through a piece of bread.

“Everything about him so far is unexpected.” Eva cleaned her mouth elegantly with the napkin, leaving it neatly folded on top of the table; she doubted she would eat more.

She had to admit the stag was… delicious.

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it Princess? It can be a good sign!”

“I hope you are right. It just… puzzles me. How am I supposed to act, then?”

Flora cleaned her mouth with her own napkin too, leaving her food temporarily aside in favour of turning towards her Princess.

“Like yourself, my Princess.” Flora’s hand squeezed her wrist, a smile on her lips. “Maybe this is the perfect opportunity to be yourself.”

“B-but I am–” Herself? She was herself… right?

“This is not Gottesreich, Your Highness. Don’t let it ruin your experience and new life here.”

“It wouldn’t ruin…” Eva stopped there, sighing. Maybe she was right. Maybe the wine made her more agreeable to her less respectable thoughts. “I’ll… try.”

“That’s my Princess.” Flora smiled smugly, hand going for her goblet. Eva let a tiny laugh escape her, soft and low, shaking her body, but her lips pulled into a smile, too.

She did not know or notice the Chief had turned his head towards her when he heard the Princess laugh, surprised to hear it. He found it beautiful, a soft chime and gentle. It was fitting for her. The Chief was distracted from his thoughts and musings when one of his warriors approached him, leaning into his ear as he delivered an urgent message.

The Chief’s face became serious, his posture in the chair too, and he signaled with his hand to proceed with his orders. The same warrior came back with a newcomer, not an Eldian but a Gottesreichan messenger. He wore the Kingdom’s emblem on the chest, and with his clothes and squalid body shape, he clearly was not a fighter. The villagers eating and dancing did not notice the foreigner coming in, blending perfectly behind the rows of chairs and tables, guided by the Eldian warrior that went to fetch him.

Eva’s smile fell when she looked around the room and saw him, recognising from a mile away the symbol of her home. Her eyes snapped to the man’s hands, clutching a satchel close to his chest.

Why was a messenger here? Did something happen?

Eva turned to the Chief, his expression an unreadable one, but his mouth was a thin line. Frowning and unhappy with her findings, Eva turned to her brothers, in time to see the messenger make a beeline towards the Crown Prince and open the satchel to hand in a sealed letter.

Time seemed to slow down, the tension palpable. Prince Hans carefully opened the seal of his father and read the letter, his frown deepening the longer he read. His mouth morphed into a displeased, angry line, as he slapped it on Friederich’s awaiting hand. Eva did not know if she preferred it or not, but Friederich was much more expressive, letting out angry huffs and retorts, going as far as to curse before throwing the letter on top of the table. Eva looked at her brothers with worry, leaning into her chair towards them. Hans looked like he was burning holes into the magnificent oak table they were dining in, the vein in his temple pulsing.

Eva was deeply concerned. This was bad. This reaction was troubling.

Was the Kingdom under attack? Was Father okay? Did something happen? The crops? The fields…? She needed to know.

“Brothers,” both Princes avoided their sister’s eyes, mouth’s pulling further down. “What is the issue? Is the Kingdom– is Father–?”

Moblit appeared right behind them, cutting Eva’s string of questions and trying to be as gentle and understanding of the brother’s sudden change of mood over the contents of the letters. He apologised countless times, inquiring if the contents of the letter affected Eldia and if the Chief had to be informed of anything. The words coming from Prince Hans’ mouth froze Eva inside.

“Father requested for our presence back at Court.”

Eva was going to be sick.

“I’m surprised he hasn’t requested us sooner, or that he told us to come back the same day of our arrival.” Friederich’s words were full of poison.

Flora lowered her head as she tightly closed her mouth and tried to be as silent as possible. She did not need to turn to her right to see Eva’s devastated face tearing her heart into pieces. This was the final blow for her beloved Princess, a truly unnecessary one. Couldn’t the King truly not wait…?

“My deepest apologies, Your Highnesses, these are the most unfortunate news.” Moblit scrambled to make better of the situation, but he needed to express his concern for the upcoming events they should have been present in. “But we expected to have your presence in your sister’s welcoming ceremony, as we have done today with–”

“I know, Moblit. I know. I’m not happy about this.” Prince Hans bit his tongue, not wanting to lash out at the poor Eldian interpreter. He was more than helpful, Hans was not being that. “Selfish bastard.” he muttered, the words his father wrote angering him further. Moblit forced himself to keep threading through such boiling waters.

“When does King Nikolaus expect your return?”

“In two days.”

“Oh.” Moblit did not comment about King Nikolaus' whims; it was well known he often demanded almost impossible things just to bark at the mistakes later. The journey from Eldia to Gottesreich was four days, three if you wanted to kill your horses from exhaustion, a week if you took it slow and travelled in carriages. “Should I ask for the horses and carriages to be ready to part tonight? Although I would advise not to travel at night, the roads are dangerous in winter.”

“That won’t be necessary, Moblit, thank you kindly. We will part tomorrow morning and won’t rush it. We’ll keep the old man waiting and use the weather as an excuse.”

Moblit nodded. Ballsy move, but Moblit guessed being the Crown Prince gave him a little bit of leverage to bend some situations in his favour. He still thought it was a good decision, even more not letting himself be choked into his Father’s rule that easily.

“Our warriors will accompany you to the borders, please allow us to.”

Knowing Moblit wouldn’t bulge about it, Prince Hans nodded.

Friederich was far too enraged to comment anything else about it, leaving it all to his brother as he clenched his fists in indignation.

Apologising once again, Moblit took his leave, letting the brothers deal with their bitterness and fury, and walking to the Chief to deliver the bad news he surely got an idea of, judging by the displeased expressions of the brothers and the broken, vacant one of the Princess.

Moblit spoke in an urgent tone to the Chief, the Eldian leader nodding and switching his gaze from one sibling to another. His gaze fell on the Princess, frown deepening upon her state. Eva felt the music and laughter far away from her, as if she was sitting in a different room with closed doors and windows. It was harder to breathe, to see, vision blurring, and the trembling in her hands returned violently. She clutched tightly her dress skirt, no doubt wrinkling it in such a way that Flora and the Eldian maidens would surely have a hard time getting rid of, but she needed something to try to desperately anchor herself to the present.

All color had drained from her face.

Her brothers were leaving.

Eva felt as if she had her feet sweeped off the ground, even though she was sitting down in a chair.

They were leaving.

Too soon.

Too soon.

She was going to be alone with Flora, left in the middle of a land of savage demons.

Alone.

Helpless.

Afraid.

Forsaken.

[prfctethereal]

my future | gazing upon a crystal ball | part i

pairing: james potter x reader

warnings: LOTS of angst sorry, some fluff, idk if i forgot anythings

***

There are three things you should know about me.

Number one: somehow veritaserum does not work on me. It’s the strangest thing I’ve ever encountered. No matter how much of the truth-spilling potion passed my lips, my secrets never budged. It was as if I was drinking water, without the tart, metallic taste.

Number two: my talent of divination was unrivalled at Hogwarts. Once again, it was unclear how I possessed this power, especially since I was muggleborn, but somehow, I was one of the best Seers in over a decade at Hogwarts, praised courtesy of Professor Trelawney.

And number three: I was hopelessly in love with the man that I could call my boyfriend, James Fleamont Potter. He was the definition of charm and chivalry; he was who I wished to call my everything.

As I laid down in his arms in the Gryffindor common room, I watched the fire crackle, the quiet sound of James’ soft breathing floating through my ears. His hand was traipsing up and down my back mindlessly, tracing figure eights onto my delicate skin. I felt calm. I felt content.

There were two days left of our seventh year at Hogwarts. Tomorrow was supposed to be spent cleaning up our dorms and soaking in the last moments of the Hogwarts atmosphere, but all I wanted to do was stay inside all day with James.

He hoped to join the Order of the Phoenix, a secret organisation that worked to bring down Death Eaters and Voldemort himself, after Hogwarts. I wanted to join just as bad as James did, but he said no. It was the only thing we fought about. Continuously, he argued about the dangers of joining together, but I always held my ground. We were to do this together.

“What are you thinking about, love?” I heard James say from above me, placing a gentle kiss on my cheek as I smiled.

“You. Me. Our future.” I shrugged, rubbing the palms of my hands up and down James’ arms, trying to ground myself.

“I like that sound of that,” James nuzzled his head into the book of my neck, inhaling my scent. “Our future. You and me. Forever.”

“I’ll always be your forever and ever, Jamesie. I love you to the moon and back.” The words came out as a hushed whisper, but James clung on to them desperately, pressing innocent kisses just under my jaw.

“You won’t be able to get rid of me.” James cracked a joke, running his fingers across my waist, lightly tickling me as he went. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I wouldn’t want you to.” I replied, leaning upwards to place a delicate kiss on his lips. Raising my hands up to his face, I cupped his cheeks, deepening the kiss in a flurry of passion, that was soon interrupted.

A rustling sound came through the portrait of the Gryffindor common room, piquing the interest of us too. We broke apart from each other at first, before slowly melting back together. It was late at night, many of the other students having already gone to bed. Subconsciously, I grabbed onto James’ hand, letting the pads of his thumbs gently rake over my knuckles as if to soothe me.

Professor McGonagall strutted into the common room, a distressed look on her face. With furrowed eyebrows, she scanned the surroundings before her eyes landed on me.

“Y/N, can you please come with me? Professor Dumbledore wishes to see you.” McGonagall spoke softly, reaching her hand out towards me.

“Oooh, you’re in trouble.” James laughed, pressing a gentle kiss to my temple. I chucked along until I saw the somber expression plastered on McGonagall’s face, shutting my mouth instantly.

“Of course, Professor. I’ll come immediately.” Before leaving, I turned quickly, placing one lady peck on James’ nose, hurrying out of the common room, towing behind McGonagall.

She didn’t say much and walked briskly, a stark contrast to her normal attitude. It was quiet, none of us striking conversation, so we walked together in uncomfortable silence until we reached the griffin statue that guarded Dumbledore’s office.

“Sherbet lemon.” Professor McGonagall stated, her booming voice commanding the griffin to let safe passage through. When the griffin had moved, McGonagall said nothing, but ushered me upwards until I reached the doorway.

“Miss L/N, please come in.” Professor Dumbledore beckoned me in through his great door. I always tensed up at his looming office. Everything seemed so much taller than me. Too many eyes could look at me and judge me from the portraits around the room. I lingered in the doorway, uncertain about obeying Dumbledore’s command.

“Please.” He persisted, his hand outstretched towards me, as if to hold my own and walk in with me. I kept my hands to myself, slightly uncomfortable with his twinkling eyes, staring at me from out the top of his moon shaped glasses.

Nodding my head, I finally walked in, the smell of fresh air hitting my face. I took a deep breath, once again shaken from the look Dumbledore was giving me. My abilities of reading people’s faces and expressions stopped with Dumbledore, who always wore a monotonous look on his face, almost disapproving and disappointed.

Gazing around the room, I took in the noticeable differences from earlier in the year. A few trinkets had been put away as well as some suitcases in the corner of the room, looking ready to be packed. It just hit me that Dumbledore would be leaving and going home. I often forgot that Dumbledore had a home away from Hogwarts. Other things looked different, as well as a few portraits missing from the wall and the curtains drawn, something that was definitely unusual for Dumbledore; he liked as much moonlight as possible.

Something wasn’t right.

What really intrigued me was the crystal ball sitting neatly on Dumbledore’s desk in the middle of the room. I was always quite good at Divination as it was my best subject. Professor Trelawney had always taken quite a liking for me and took me under my wing after third year. I remembered our first lesson we ever had with her and the way her eyes widened as she looked at me. After that lesson, she kept me after class, explaining how she had seen me in her own crystal ball, and how my future of Divination would be bright.

She was correct. I had excelled in every one of my exams; I had the Outstandings to prove it. As a muggleborn, I was always curious about how I had gotten my powers of a Seer, but I never pondered it as much as I should’ve. Once again, I was clueless as I looked at the crystal ball on Dumbledore’s desk. Something told me he wanted me to take a look.

“Professor Trelawney has seen some shocking news in this ball and would like for you to take a look.” Right to the point. Dumbledore was not one for cutting corners. Sheepishly, I nodded, walking slowly up to his desk, before his outstretched hand stopped me in my path.

“Be warned. If what Sybil said was true, it might shake you a bit.” Incredulously, I stayed silent, my eyes flickering from Dumbledore’s worried irises and the swirling mist forming in the crystal on the desk.

“Okay, sir.” My voice came out as a croak as I made my way over to the desk. Nervously, I pressed my hands against the cold ball, the feeling of electricity pulsing through my veins from the smallest brush. I jolted in surprise; the future was strong. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, before opening them slowly, taking in the black wisps of the future before me.

Peering closer, I saw something that made me smile. It was James, the biggest grin on his face, his eyes looking down into his arms. Wrapped in a blanket, James was holding a small boy, hair as dark as James, eyes green like the forest behind us. The only thing I could think was pure happiness, thoughts swirling in my mind.

Was it my child too?

My questions were soon answered as a woman came up behind James, smearing an endearing kiss to James’ cheek. Her fiery red hair and enchanting green eyes were unmissable. That wasn’t me. That was Lily Evans.

I could feel my heart breaking in my chest as I watched James press a soft, delicate kiss on Lily’s cupid’s bow, the smile shared between them, the look in their eyes so obvious. They were in love.

Quickly, the scene changed, instantly taking a darker turn. It was in a forest, the forbidden forest to be exact, where Lord Voldemort stood, Elder Wand in hand, a horrendous grin pressed to his face. His pungent red eyes were alive and vicious, shooting daggers at the figure in front of him.

It was merely a boy, no older than I was, yet he looked so much like James. I knew instantaneously that this was James’ child all grown up. I couldn’t hear what was being said but their wands clashed together, a stream of red and green meeting between them. In a flash, Voldemort sank to the ground. Dead.

Gasping for air as if I had been drowning, my hands pulled away from the crystal ball. My breath was shallow, which turned into hyperventilation, letting me fall to the ground, tears ebbing at my vision. I couldn’t comprehend anything that was going on anymore. I let the tears run down my cheeks as I felt a presence sink down beside me, meeting me on the floor next to me.

“Miss L/N, are you okay?” I couldn’t believe that that old fool had the audacity to ask such a question. With tears still falling from my bloodshot eyes, I looked up at him, cocking my eyebrows, almost mockingly. Obviously I wasn’t okay as my hands shook and tears fell, but I managed to mutter out an answer, just to please Dumbledore.

“No.” The one syllable answer hurt to say. Unconsciously, I let my head fall to my side, resting on Dumbledore’s shoulder. I wished for none of his comfort, yet I knew I needed it. As we sat in silence, I let all my tears pour out as Dumbledore rubbed my arm soothingly, not interrupting the silent aura we had created, until my sobs had died down.

“I’m sorry miss, but I must ask you,” here we go, “what did you see in the crystal ball?”

“It was James, but it wasn’t me by his side. It was Lily. Lily “Perfect” Evans. And they had a child, a beautiful baby boy. The love of my life has a child with someone else. He loves someone else. Their child was the one to defeat Voldemort, to end everyone’s suffering. Not our child, their child.” I managed to explain as Dumbledore nodded, obviously having heard the same story from Trelawney, but much less emotionally.

There was a stillness that laid between us. Sobbing silently, Dumbledore waited patiently for me to finish letting out everything I needed to. For a normally emotionless person, Dumbledore was actually good company as I wallowed away in my pity.

“What do I do?” I managed to croak out after a while, my throat breathy and sore from my crying. A sigh escaped Dumbledore’s lips, not a promising sign for my racing headache. Everything seemed to be falling to pieces beneath my grasp and even trying to comprehend what this would all mean for James and I’s relationship was impossible.

“What do you think you have to do?” Dumbledore asked me. It was a foolish question, something that I hadn’t expected from such a wise man like Dumbledore. I scowled at him, contorting my sad frown into a sneer.

“I have to break up with him.” I sighed, playing with my fingers in my lap. “But then what? Sit around watching James and Lily slowly fall in love. It’s too painful. I couldn’t do it.”

“There is another option for you.” I was intrigued. “I have gotten permission from a pureblood witch from Beauxbatons to let us use her name. She is currently working for the Order in Japan, standing in as a teacher at Mahoutokoro, watching out for any dark magic. She’s working under a fake name, so no one knows anything about who she really is. I know you wish to work for the Order, so I have a mission for you, if you choose to accept. You would pose as a waitress and performer at a popular Death Eater bar in Scotland. You will stay there for as long as possible, gaining their trust and learning what you can, under the name of Colette Heroux, a runaway Beauxbatons blood supremacist. It’s almost perfect that you would do it as if they use veritaserum on you, you can lie. You wouldn’t have to be around anyone else from the Order and you would have weekly meetings with just me. No one will know what you are doing. No one can know what you are doing.”

My throat hitched at the proposition. It was perfect. I could leave and let James and Lily’s destiny play out, without having to rip my heart out in two. At the same time, I couldn’t leave. I would have to leave behind all my friends, Remus, Sirius, Peter….

It was the only thing I could do though.

“Fine. I’ll do it.” I muttered quietly. “When do I leave?”

“Tonight.” My eyes widened in shock. I would miss graduation. Dumbledore seemed to know what was on my mind and answered accordingly. “You will still graduate. I’m sorry, but we must leave as soon as possible. You may go back to your room and collect your stuff.”

I didn’t reply. In a hurried fashion, I rushed away from Dumbledore and back through the doors, not stopping to acknowledge Professor McGonagall who was standing there wide eyed and in shock.

As I burst into the common room, I tried to avoid James, but I couldn’t. He immediately walked over to me, noticing the way the tears fell down my cheeks, cupping my face delicately and enveloping my torso in a hug. It was too painful.

Pushing away, I couldn’t even keep eye contact with him. I stared at the ground, trying to get as far away from James as possible.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” James reached out to me once again but I flinched away, bringing my arms up to brush him off, watching his heart break with every rejection through his eyes.

“Please don’t call me darling, it’ll make this harder than it already is.” I muttered. James tried to say something  but I kept speaking, not wanting to be influenced by whatever James had to say. “I have to break up with you.”

“You have to?” James asked incredulously, his voice a meer whisper from surprise. Quickly, I readjusted my words.

“I want to break up.” I tried again, my voice failing to carry out the sentence. I still couldn’t look at James but I knew he was starting to cry from the choking noises coming from his throat.

“No you don’t. No, that’s not true-”

“It is. We shouldn’t be together. I’m no good for you.”

“I love you. I’m in love with you.”

“I’m in love with no one.” Anger was boiling up in my blood but I wasn’t sure where from. All I knew was I had to get out of this situation. “I’m in love with no one, but myself.”

“You said that you would always be my forever and ever. I said you couldn’t get rid of me.” James was matching my anger as well, stepping towards me red in the face. “That was barely an hour ago. What changed?”

“Everything.” I said, turning away from him. I was done with this conversation. Everything was hurting inside me and all I wanted to do was cry. I knew I had to pack my things though, so I rushed to the staircase for the girl’s dormitories. Before I could reach the steps, I was met by a confused looking Lily, who seemed to have watched the whole thing unfold.

“Look after him for me Lily, would you?” She nodded, unsure of what I meant. Looking back, I saw James still looking at me in awe. He needed closure. I could give that to him.

“I’ll see you in a couple years.”

***

taglist: (send in an ask if you want to be added)

@anywherebuthere​

[yelenasdog]

something like “i know” (ben hardy x fem reader)

genre: FLUFF FINALLYY

summary: sometimes making tiktoks with ben doesn’t always turn out the way you plan, but by no means is that a negative.

words: 1.4k

warnings: age gap (not dramatic, reader is like, idk, 23 maybe?), kissing, i think that’s it but lmk!

a/n: hi! so i’ve had this idea for ages and wanted to write it so here it is! the end of it is far sappier than i planned but meh whatevs. also ty to cici and eva for helping me pick the moodbard hehe. k enjoy!

☆❂✧

Having an age gap was never something that put a large damper on their relationship. The conflicting personalities of the two balanced out quite nicely, and the similarities that drew the two of them together in the first place (apart from the aforementioned) made sure they never had a lack of interesting things to talk about that weren’t generational.

Until TikTok, that was.

Now of course, there were some other millennials on the application, but Ben just for some reason couldn’t get it.

“Yes, I know that, babe, but why do they do dances?”

“They lip sync too!”

“But what is the point?”

And that’s how the conversation would end. Every single time. So Ben would sit on the sofa, watching as she danced about in front of the small screen, occasionally playing some cruel (ok, that’s a large exaggeration, they’re somewhat mean, at best) joke on him, claiming it was a trend on TikTok? That just did not sit right with him.

He didn’t remember hearing “mean pranks” in the initial description of the app when she had described it to him all of those times.

Ben tried to tune it out, he really did. He would wear his headphones, blasting Zeppelin as loud as he could while reading scripts or a book. But somehow, those catchy little tunes always managed to worm their way into his ear, being stuck in there for days and days on end.

He would waltz around the house humming Megan Thee Stallion, the occasional Flo Milli or underground indie artist also making an appearance often.

He was pouring a cup of coffee for himself one Tuesday morning in the kitchen before going on a run, Y/n watching fondly from afar. Rain was softly rolling down the windows, barely coming to a cease. The air was chilly, and fog floated through the early morning sky, a sense of calm washing over their shared South London home.

The room was kept somewhat warm, though, from the fireplace that she had insisted the house had to have, which Ben ended up being grateful for on more than one occasion. He looked over his shoulder briefly, smiling at the sight of his beloved wrapped up in his seafoam jumper, watching him move about contently.

As he turned back to where he was working on filling the two mugs in front of him, he began to oh so quietly sing the lyrics to what sounded like a familiar tune off of the app. Watermelon Sugar, maybe?

“Ben? Baby?”

He turned, his eyes growing wide and his hands flying to his hips as he leaned against the countertop behind him.

“Mhhm, yeah, w-what’s up, babe?”

She couldn’t hold in her giggle at the sight of her boyfriend’s red face and disgruntled appearance, one of his hands now scratching casually at his gold locks.

“What’re you singin’, pretty boy?”

His blush only increased at the nickname, eliciting another laugh from his girl.

“Y’know, just somethin’ I heard on the radio the other day.”

She immediately recognized his lie, he refused to listen to the radio, only using either Bluetooth or the aux cord, his music taste too pretentious for mainstream stations. She didn’t mind, though, always finding it quite funny how much of a music snob he was.  

But rather than call him out, she only nodded and smirked, standing up and bringing her phone with her over to the windowsill where she usually filmed her TikToks, pulling Ben along with her.

He sipped from his mug, eyes slanted as she scrolled through something on her phone, various sounds emitting from the speaker.

A little smile showed up on her face when she (apparently) found what she was looking for, leaving her to set the phone down, allowing a video under the sound to play on repeat.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on?” He asked, ever so cautiously, taking a step towards her. She walked towards him, engulfing him in a hug which he (yet again) cautiously reciprocated.

“I am going to teach you a TikTok dance.”

He had to do a double take.

“Come again?”

She pulled on the elastic waistband of her sweats, grabbing Ben by the arm.

“Come on, I know you wanna. And if nothing else you’ll do it to make me happy.”

He rolled his eyes, slightly irritated at her confidence and that she was so incredibly correct, he would do mostly anything to put a smile on her face.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He grumbled, moving to stand next to her.

She clapped once in excitement, joy flooding her entire body. The music started up again, but this time, she began to dance along to it.

“Ok, so just try to do what I’m doing, alright?”

“No! Not alright, can I just stand here, I think I should just stand here-“

“Ben, it's literally not that hard, 8 year olds can do it!”

“Well, I’m an extremely confused 29 year old man, thank you very much!”

And that’s basically how the next 15 minutes went until she finally gave in, allowing Ben to stand behind her, occasionally doing a little move of sorts. The two were in a fit of giggles now, struggling to keep enough composure for long enough to get even one successful video.

“Benjamin Jones! This is the last one, okay?”

He put a hand on his stomach, both of the pair attempting to catch their breath.

“Yes, yes, right okay, got it, last one.”

The little timer button counted down, the sound echoing throughout the property. 

The music then started, and she could barely keep a straight face for the 15 seconds. Bored of the routine, but never of her, Ben decided he would grab her and throw her onto the sofa, as payback for all the “TikTok pranks” she would pull on him. He waited for the perfect time to strike (one where she wouldn’t hopefully be too infuriated), restlessly shifting from foot to foot.

Nearing the last few seconds, he made his move. He swooped forward, a high pitched shriek falling from her lips as he wrapped his strong arms around her waist, running and jumping onto the couch, crushing her. He rolled off quickly, and she moved to be on top of him, her hair wildly astray. She sat up, straddling his thighs with a bright smile plastered on her face.

“You little jerk.”

He only smiled boyishly in response, a lovesick gaze set in his eyes.

The song was still playing on repeat as she leaned down, positioning her hands on either side of his head in order to place her lips gently upon his.

“That’s your reward for putting up with me today, Jones.”

He scoffed, taking her by the shoulders and bringing her to his chest. She looked up from where she was now comfortably lying, meeting his homey emerald gaze, his eyes like sea glass that had washed up on white sands, waiting to be rediscovered.

“I feel as if I deserve something more for all of that.”

“Oh, do you?”

He hummed and nodded, closing his eyes. She reached up, placing another peck on his plump lips, before scurrying away to retrieve the phone. He sat up rather quickly at the sudden loss of her body weight, smiling at the sound of her laughter coming towards him.

“Ben, look, it turned out so well.” She managed to slip out before basically throwing him the phone. A grin erupted on his own face soon after, along with the hearty chuckles to match. 

He made some commentary on how wonderful it was, before handing her back the device. She moved so she was once more essentially laying on top of Ben, the screen in both of their views. 

After sharing a few more laughs over the video, she captioned it and posted it, throwing her phone to get lost in the couch cushions as the likes and comments began to roll in.

She looked up at him once more, and he met her gaze, as he always would, bringing a hand up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. 

It didn’t leave her cheek, resting there and lightly caressing her skin. The two were most serene then, almost appearing as two felines that had decided to nap during the morning showers, most comforted by each other and the steady sound of the droplets as they pattered.

He was whispering now, the rambunctious energy of the room fading into a much more tranquil and stolid vibe, wrapping the two up like a warm embrace.

“Y’know I really would do anything to make you happy, my love.”

She closed her eyes, taking hold of one of his hands.

He then heard her mutter something like “I know”, and all was well.

☆❂✧

it was fitting for the theme. but anyway i hope u enjoyed, pls reblog and like if u did :) go drink some water, eat some protein, and take an electronics break!

love you bunches! xx hj

[sullustangin]

Fictober Prompt #10: “It’s so quiet.”/Flufftober Prompt #13: Pillow Talk

Fandom: SWTOR

Pairing: Theron Shan/Smuggler

Rating:  M (pre- and post-smut scenes) This is so soft, and I’m probably rating it too highly out of an abundance of caution. 

A/N: In a slight canon divergence, Eva didn’t accept Theron’s proposal on Odessen; she took a leave of absence for three months to process everything.  She had no contact with Odessen or Theron, with no indication she would ever come back.  And then....

**

After his shower, he found her on the balcony, her robe teasing her thigh as she looked out over Aargonar’s beautiful desolation.  The stars were as jewels over the desert landscape, and the three moons silently stood guard.

The night air had rapidly chilled without the sun, so Theron was quick to collect his –

His wife.  As of 36 hours ago, Eva was his wife.  

48 hours ago, he hadn’t known whether she would even take him back; she’d sent a message stating she would not make their rendezvous on Aargonar, something that had been negotiated through proxies for nearly a month.  

Then they found that they’d both put themselves on the same mission to save Odessen.  

Things progressed, as they always seemed to when they were on mission together….and….

The planetary governor had married them in the morning, him still wearing a shirt he’d torn up to bandage her, her still wearing a dancer’s costume (stars, their wedding holo would give someone a heart attack, if they weren’t adequately prepared).  

Bowie had cried. Risha tried to pretend she wasn’t crying (and failed, miserably).  Guss and Corso had gotten completely trashed in record time, and Akaavi and Mako had wandered off to have some serious conversations of their own.  

And now they were in the top floor suite he’d booked, two separate bedrooms parted by a living area… in case….

But that was far from necessary now.  

Eva looked back at him as he stepped out onto the balcony to join her.  Silently, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, and they looked out at the world together.  “It’s so quiet. First time since before I landed on Ord Mantell and met Corso that –” She wrapped her arms around herself, overlapping his, squeezing the pair of them together even tighter.  “ – it’s so quiet now.  Peaceful.”     He felt her twist to the right to look up at him. “First time in almost fifteen years.”

“Twenty.  I had my implants installed when I turned eighteen. Constant noise ever since.  Minus the times you managed to get me to turn them off.”

“And now?”

“35 hours and counting.” He’d taken an hour after the wedding to send information and tie up loose ends before he went off the grid entirely.  That included shutting down his implants.

Eva leaned back into him. “We made it.” Eva turned around entirely in his arms and looked up at him.  Her hair was loose, and her face was clean of all makeup and the Dermaplast she normally wore over her scar

Theron bowed his head to kiss the top of her head, his hands coming up to hold her chin and jaw.  A thumb trailed across her cheekbone.  “You’re still the most wonderful thing I’ve ever been allowed to touch.”  

His heart skipped a beat or two when she whispered back, “I still love you.”  Then she went up on her toes to kiss him, and he met her halfway, his fingers gripping the diaphanous fabric of her robe.  Deeper needs soon came to the fore.  

But they had to banter. They always had to banter.    “Bit drafty out here for what you’re not wearing.” Her fingers ran around the waistband of his briefs.

His hand slid up her thigh, under her robe.  “You’re not much better off.  We should go inside and fix that.”

**

Much later, she requested, “Tell me again.”

“I love you.”  Then Theron contentedly hummed as he felt Eva’s head gently land on his chest, her soft curves pressed up against him.  He reached blindly for the sheets, pulling them out of their neatly tucked corners to drape over their rapidly cooling bodies.  

In the back of his mind (and probably hers too), he knew the storm would kick up again.  Something, somewhere in the galaxy would blow up, and the Alliance would somehow end up entangled with it.  

For now, the newlyweds focused on being entangled with each other, repeatedly; they had been parted for nine months, after all.  

Theron’s sleepy, happy haze was parted as he felt Eva tenderly trace his collarbone.  “What names are we here under?  I might actually leave the room sometime tomorrow.”

“Why would you do that?” Theron let his hand wander down her body a bit as his eyes slid open.  

“I said might.  But I am curious about the cover, given what we’ve done.”  Gods, how he loved her smile.  

Theron brought his other hand up to stroke her face.  “Do you remember Metis and Antony Vaner?”

“Oh good grief.”  Her forehead tipped forward to touch his chest for a moment.  

“What can I say, Trant really, really did a good job making the IDs the first time.  I think their marriage license looks more legit their ours.”

The pair quietly looked at each other in the dim light that came in from Aargonar 3.  “So are we keeping them around?  Are… are they the cover we’re going to use from now on? When we go on mission together?”  Hope was in her voice – hope that he remembered the promises from last night… even if they were made in desperate, heated moments.

Theron nodded slowly. “Yeah. I’m… I’m not going under deep cover again without you.  I’ll still do more superficial jobs, sure.  Short term. Burner IDs, yes, but --- never that again.  Never.”

Her hand reached up to grasp his.  “Tell me again.”

“I love you.  Tell me again.”

“I love you.”

**

A/N 2:  The Vaners were the fake IDs Trant gave Theron and Eva in “The Cosmic Deck,” which takes place during the Revanite conspiracy.