#[stares out longingly at vivid clothing]

[keeps-ache]

!! what if i made another outfit for Teddie. just cuz

[hantenguclonesimp-minuszoha]

Filthy, Filthy man.

Genderbend! Sekido x Male!Reader [smut]

Synopsis: A husband desperate for the love and affection of his wife after having been gone for almost three days. But perhaps, he got a little too desperate. Three days before Christmas too.

Warnings: horny af, pegging, masturbation, STRAP-ON DILDOS, degradation, anal fingering, spanking, overstimulation, dommy mommy Sekido, the Grinch is setting up the mood, she won't have mercy on your anus, slight bondage, gagging

Art by @starrcityyy

(Dommy mommy Sekido)

"You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch."

That and his wife Sekido who's been gone for three whole days. She had promised Y/N that she'd be gone for only a day, but to no one's surprise, she's gone longer. Y/N's aware that his beloved is searching for the Blue Spider Lily for her master, but it's almost Christmas and he misses her. He doesn't want to spend his Christmas without his wife and much less an empty bed. But even though he's a patient man, he's become very desperate. Well, desperate enough to have gone through the laundry and snatched a dirty kimono of hers, panties and a bra, along with three photos of her in tantalisingly beautiful outfits as the music played in the back. The man's hormones were out of control which is why he is now on the floor next to his bed, facing away from the door, on his side and aggressively stroking his aching manhood with his wife's panties. He had purposesly chosen the lace patterned one and before he had ended up here, had shamelessly stuffed it into his pants for some sort of relieve (whatever that granted him). Now, he's panting like a dog in heat while holding Sekido's beautiful patterned kimono, inhaling her scent and staring lovingly at a photograph of her beautiful self.

"You really are a heel."

Was perhaps his Christmas meant to be ruined by the real life Grinch equivalent that is his wife's master? Did he perhaps force his wife and her colleagues to work harder for the flower? What was so special about it? he had to wonder, however, right now, he was too busy making himself feel good at the mere thought of his wife. The room was filled with nothing but lewd, wet noises with the occasional moan of a desperate man. He felt so overly sensitive and every stroke made him jolt in pleasure while staring at her clothes longingly before inhaling her scent deeply. All Y/N could do was pull it closer to him, close his eyes, get himself off and think about his lovely wife. "Ugn... Uhn...! Ahhh... Nggg.." He moaned quite loudly only because he was the home alone and even let out sounds he never let out whenever he'd have sex with her. All he did was savior the electrifying feeling between his legs, admiring her photographs and inhaling her scent as if it were a drug. And then, he stopped, moaning tiredly as he shot out his warm cum into the panties tangled around his twitching dick, some strings of it getting on to her kimono as well. Once he slowed down his movements, he went slightly limp on the floor while pulling the clothes lower to his crotch, humping them and trying to get his fluids all over them. Her clothes are going to be one hell of a mess, especially her undergarments and he didn't care. At least, not now. He arched his back while whining loudly, memories of the all their intimate moments flooding in and his fantasies becoming all the more vivid. His satisfied sighs and moans continued as he continued his lewd acts. Then, he took her photo and like her clothes, began doing unspeakable things to it. He is so horny and desperate it's embarrassing. He secretly has no shame. "Ughnnnnnn..."

"You're as cuddly as a cactus, you're a charming as an eel, Mr. Grinch."

Finally, he calmed down. He went limp on the floor breathing heavily in satisfaction and keeping her clothes and photos close to his body. Y/N had tiredout, wanting nothing than to simply fall asleep on the floor knowing what the hell he had just done to his wife's clothes with absolutely no shame. "Mmm..."

"Did you enjoy yourself...?"

Right when the poor man was about to fall asleep, she flashed in his vision for only a split second. His eyes snapped open, wide with shock and his drooling mouth slightly agape in shock. "A-..." He tried to say something, to excuse his actions and the foul behavior and the things he had done to her clothes and photographs, but nothing came out. The only thing he was able to get out were choked noises of shame and embarrassment. Would his dear wife be angry at him again? Her poor husband had done nothing wrong except think about his lovely wife in the filthiest ways. It wasn't a crime to do so was it, dear wife? She had a very cold, angry demeanor at the moment, though that was probably just her being her usual self. She was definitely quite angry about him having masturbated with her clothes, especially without her permission. Yet she couldn't help but feel a little bit flattered that he was doing all this to her. She was the only thing on his mind. This made her anger dwindle just a little bit, as she waited for him to respond, staring down at him. "I... A-... I-..." It's not like he didn't have an answer for that, though. He very much so did. Y/N loved pleasing himself with her clothes, the things that reminded him of his wife. He loved picturing her in the most inappropriate clothing and scenarios as he pleasured himself. Oh, but you can't help a yearning husband can you? He longs for his wife like any husband should. Y/N shouldn't have to be punished for wanting his wife so much, did he? "You couldn't wait for even a few more hours, could you?" But Sekido disagreed. Only she was the one allowed to make him feel this way and Y/N would only pleasure himself when he was given permission to. Did he really think that he would've gotten away with his masturbation? Before she even got into the house, she was able to smell him and could hear what he was doing. Even if he aired the house and cleaned the room, she would've known anyways. His pheromones were far too strong for some simple airing and disinfectant to eradicate. He looked so pathetic in her eyes. Was he so desperate that he could no longer keep his hormones under control? Did he really think Did he really think masturbation would satiate it? No! Only she ever did. She is his wife and only she is allowed to touch him like that.

"You're a bad banana with a... greasy black peel!"

"Get on the fucking bed, you impatient brat." Her man had no choice as usual but to follow her every order. To him, her word was law and she would make sure it would stay like that. Y/N stripped himself from all the remaining clothes before getting on the bed on all fours, his expression that of worry and fear. Without warning, he felt a sharp pain on his rear which made him yelp and moan in surprise. "You disgusting pervert. You couldn't wait a few more hours for me to return, no. You had to steal my clothes and jack off with it, stain it with your cum including my photos!" The man hadn't expected to see his wife naked as she complained, but who's to say he didn't like the view? However, his wrists were suddenly taken and tied to the frame of the bed, something which he wasn't expecting. The panties he used shoved into his mouth as a gag even less. "Cry and it will get worse." Sekido warned hefore suddenly arching her hushand's back and grabbing his hips, the feeling of something entering his rear caught him by surprise. His yelps and screams of surprise and pain were muffled by the panties in his mouth as he began to get fingered by his wife. "Mmf!" "Shut the hell up. Be grateful I'm even stretching you." She wasn't nice enough to have used lube and damn, it hurt. Y/N squirmed around, but would quickly stop whenever Sekido would land a harsh slap on his rear and pull his hair while telling him to behave. She would continue stand behind him, fingering his ass before eventually putting in another finger and increasing her pacing. "You want to be horny, hm?" Sekido sneered, pushing her fingers deeper and causing Y/N to moan louder. He almost cried at the feeling, but forced the tears back and taking his punishment all the while he began to feel himself twitch an aching amount. He suddenly cummed with a loud muffled moan, breathing heavily and sweating out of sheer exhaustion as his hole clenched tightly around her finger. Sekido scoffed angrily before getting on her knees behind him, giving him no time to recover whatsoever and immediately pressing her hips against his. "You dared to touch yourself without my permission, huh brat? You dared to let them all hear your slutty moans without me there, huh manwhore?" Sekido presses his face into the pillow and bites his neck while letting her tongue caress his sweating skin. The demon so possessive of her lover that she loves the idea of everyone in the neighbourhood hearing how she makes the man she married moan like a bitch for her and that only she can make him feel that good.

"You're a monster, Mr. Grinch."

The loud sounds of skin on skin can be heard along with the sounds of Sekido's grunting and her husband's muffled moans. The man felt like he was going to pass out from it all, his eyes rolled to the back of his head, that feeling of that damn dildo ramming up his ass and poking all his sensitive sweets pots sent him into a frenzy (if he wasn't already in one). Y/N was in a state of euphoria as his wife manhandled him, he just couldn't get enough of it. But unfortunately for him, he couldn't keep back his tears and the moment he closed his eyes they flowed down. Sekido's sharp crimson eyes did not miss that detail as the moment those tears flowed, she stopped her merciless thrusting and lowered her face to his ears. "What did I say?" Her tone was hushed yet menacing. She was going to show her dear, beloved husband what it meant to go against her words. Sekido untied his wrists which made his eyes widened in surprise, before she turned him, on his back, tied his wrist again, and began pounding him in the mating press. Even the very sturdy began to creak ever so slightly. The man felt so weak in this position. His wife was so cruel to him all because he was caught pleasing himself. She sucked, bit and licked his skin as she rammed into him while his cries and sobs of pain and pleasure were muffled out by the makeshift gag she put into his mouth. "You're not cumming until I say you cum and if you're good, I might just remove that gag." He was drooling at this point and close to losing consciousness, but the moment his eyelids close even halfway she would pound harder to keep him conscious.

"Your heart's an empty hole."

He clenched around the dildo tightly panting tiredly, tears streaming down his face and toes curling due to the overstimulation. His body was slowly giving out, all it's energy being drained by the wife spearing the dildo into his body. He couldn't take it, each sensitive spot in his anal was poked and rubbed he almost wished she had the ability to ejaculate the way he did. However, his human body couldn't handle the overstimulation and for only a few moments he blacked out only to jolt awake at the feeling of a prosthetic dick ramming his ass. Sekido noticed this and felt that he deserved to breathe just a bit better and removed her panties from his mouth. His moans were incredibly weak and tired and at this point he didn't care about her trying to keep him awake, he was completely fucked out. "Look at you. Can't even take your wife." The knot soon once again built in his stomach along with the tingling sensation. The urge to cum was unbearable, yet he couldn't without her permission. "Sekidoooo- ha pleaasee l-let me- uah...!" He was between the lines of conscious and unconsciousness as he whined for her to allow him to have his release. However, she didn't respond, only continuing her merciless thrusts into her husband, the bed creaking only getting louder and the sheets slowly sliding off of the mattress. The only reason she even contemplated granting him that sliver of mercy is thanks to his fucked out expression. She knew he thought about nothing but her and the way she fucks him so good. "Plea-please- ah...!" "... Fine." As her curvaceous body drilled the silicone cock into his ass, her man whimpered and moaned softly before shooting out his white liquidy goodness. She did not expect him to cum like a horse and much less expected some of it to shoot on her face (chin). After he seemingly let out everything he had, he fell unconscious, panting tiredly and heavily. Sekido was definitely surprised to see him having lost consciousness, yet at the same time, she knew how weak her husband was. With a scoff, the muscular woman pulled out of him and removed the strap-on before getting on top him, placing kisses, hickeys on his neck and fondling his manhood (and balls). "Tsk. Weak human." But she loved that weak human of hers. And then she turned off the music as well. She wonders how the hell people like that thing. "Don't think I'm done with you yet..." Sekido grumbled before laying down next to her husband and pulling him close to her body. Perhaps if she's in a good mood she'll let him off the hook.

》A/N《

Man, that was hornier than I thought. And the use of the song was just for some comedic effect 🥰

Ps: would you mind doing me a favour and go follow my best buddy @justagamerandaweeb, he's an awesome writer tell ya (though going through a slight burnout rn)

Snowflake divider by saradika-graphics

Christmas divider (idk the word for it) by mikeykuns

18+ divider by roseschoices

[im-literally-so-dun]

idk why I'm posting this on main, but have a drabble-

Sleepwalking

Aislinn shoved her hands deeper into her hoodie pocket, and glanced around herself, looking at the dull concrete buildings, the noisy, rushed people, the scraggly trees poking out of their pots on the sidewalk, the smelly trash littering the street…. She shook her head, pulling the oversized gray hood up so she could hide better, and sped up. Almost to the library. It was safe there, not so loud and hot and busy and overwhelming as the outside. “No-” She muttered, shaking her head harder. “Can’t think like that anymore...” The doctor had said she couldn’t think of the world- the real, actual world- as the outside anymore. That was bad for her, it encouraged her to project, to mix a daydream and the outside. Linn wasn’t sure why it was bad, she wasn’t doing it to hurt herself, just to make the world look prettier.  Like… she slowed and spotted a tired-looking woman in a wrinkled suit sitting on a bench at a bus stop, scrolling on her phone. Linn concentrated for a second, and suddenly, the bench wasn’t rusted anymore. It was painted a vivid, perfect deep green. The tree next to the bench was suddenly taller, healthier-looking. Its green leaves stretching skyward, instead of drooping like they’d been doing an instant ago. There were flowers growing next to the bench, and the junk food wrappers that had been scattered on the ground were gone. The sun shone more brightly and Linn didn’t feel as small and afraid now. The tired woman looked happier, her face less careworn. She was almost smiling and her clothes looked freshly ironed.  Aislinn half sighed longingly. She missed this... What was wrong with it? All she was doing was making the world prettier, a happier place, where no one was ever unhappy, or got hurt, or di—  She squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing hard against the sudden ache in her throat. No no no, not that word, not that word—  "Aislinn? Hurry up,” Her brother yelled, snapping her back into the o- no, back into the real world.  “Sorry,” she mumbled, realizing she’d stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and had been staring into space. Linn caught up to Alex, and mumbled an apology again. “Sorry, I… I was…” she shook her head. “Never mind.” Mom hadn’t told him what she did and she wasn’t allowed to talk about it to him. Better to just shut up.  The doctor would probably be happier if she didn't explain it, anyway. He probably thought it'd make her forget about her world if she didn't talk about it.  Alex rolled his eyes, and dragged her off to the library. “You’re weird,” “Thanks,” she mumbled, following him and hating this noisy, rushed, monotone outside world.  The library was a welcome break from the noise, the mess, the... everything… that was the real world. It was so quiet, so clean, so bright, so perfect. Almost like her world had been, except Destiny wasn’t here.  She could forget that, though. At least, for a little while. And she did. Linn found a book and curled up in a chair, hiding in the pages, projecting herself into the story world, letting the colors and words and people swirl around her, letting herself forget the outside for a while.  After who knew how long, Alex shook her, shattering the projection, the colors and people fading into the library’s reading nook.  “Mom wants us back by five, remember?” He said impatiently, brushing his dark bangs out of his eyes.  “Yeah,” she said, standing and grabbing her stack of books, then trailing Alex to the checkout area. 

They checked their books out, then Alex was dragging her through the busy streets again and she didn’t have time to try to fix all the gray and mess, because he was so fast, and then they were home, and it was dinner time, then before she knew it, Linn was sitting on her bed in pajamas, staring at the bottles.  There were two of them. She couldn't remember what they were called, couldn't tell what they did, or what they were supposed to do. They just made her head fuzzy, like she was always half asleep. She never had the energy to think about fixing things then, because concentrating on doing school or whatever took all her energy.  Linn knew the drugs were wearing off now, because her mind was sharp, clear, she could almost see all the changes she’d make in her room right now, and there— there was the biggest one next to her.  “Destiny,” she whispered, her eyes welling with tears as she turned slightly, looking at the spot on her bed that her best friend—no, her figment. The spot that her lie had sat on so many times before. Linn wasn’t allowed to think Destiny back, that was bad for her, made her forget the outside, get lost in her world… That was the funny thing, though. The doctor had said if she took the medication, it’d make her forget her world, help her focus on the outside. But it hadn’t done that. All it did was make her feel half asleep, and fuzzy. Like sleepwalking, kind of. She felt more like she was stuck in a dream when she took it than when she projected her own world. Her world was so beautiful, so sharp and clear and it felt so real, more real than the outside ever had. At least, since…. since Dad.   “I just wanna go back,” she whispered, hugging her knees and resting her forehead on them. “Linn, baby?” Mom asked quietly. The door creaked and a sliver of light fell across her, and Linn had to force herself not to fix it. “Oh honey, are you all right?” Linn heard the bed creak and the mattress dipped, then Mom’s arms were around her, holding her, warm, comfortable, safe, and…. real. “I just wanna go back, mama,” she whispered. “I miss Destiny, I miss making things the way I wanted them…” “Honey… I know it’s hard, but it’s not real. It’s a lie,” Mom sounded cautious, like she didn’t want to hurt her. She couldn’t hurt Linn, nothing could, because the drugs took that away. They kind of made her feelings sort of… flat? Things didn’t hurt anymore, not since Destiny had left. She just felt empty. And empty didn't hurt. Right?  “I know… But I like it better,” she said. “And the medicine makes me feel like I’m dreaming more than I ever made myself feel. I know that doesn’t make sense.” Mom hugged her tighter. “I’m sorry, baby girl. Maybe we can get different medicine? And…  I think you maybe need a real friend. That’s what you really want, right?” She thought for a second, then nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been dreaming kinda since Destiny…. went away. I want a real friend, one who won’t go away. Not like the others.” “I know.” Mom’s voice was quiet again. “We can try to find you one, but it won’t be easy. Friendships are hard, Linn.” She nodded again. “I know. Maybe I’ll like the outside better when I have a friend.” A reason to live in it, instead of in my mind, she added silently. “I bet you will,” Mom said, still holding her. Mom was another reason to live in the outside. She wasn’t as nice as her version of Mom had been, but she was really real. And she was better than Linn's version of Mom.  Maybe a real best friend would be better than Destiny had been. Destiny couldn’t really hug her and a real friend could do that. Maybe it was time to move on. Maybe she'd get used to not having her world anymore. Maybe she needed to just live in the outside, finally.

[tiredeyesight]

the night and morning of

description : alina has recently had nightmares plaguing her sleep so she goes to the only person of comfort in the little palace, you

word count : 586

a/n : hi !! so this is my first post, it’s a bit bland and normal but it was fun to write so i hope it’s fun to read 💓

you were startled out of your sleep by a gentle thump coming from your door. ‘come in’ you croaked out as you turned on your side lamp and peered out the window to see the darkness clung to the sky. with her hair in a tangled bun and her cheeks stained red from tears, alina softly enquired, ‘do you mind if I stay here tonight?’ you made room on the opposite side of the bed signalling her to come in. she snuggled into the warmth of your body as the cotton and silk sheets started to enclose her.

‘are you alright?’ you murmured as you adjusted her hair. ‘yes, i've been having some i don’t know nightmares, and i've been having trouble falling asleep.’ she admitted, ‘training has been so exhausting and i feel like no one around here even realises how tired i am, but with no sleep it makes my training extra tougher and just ugh’

as you pay close attention to every word, you can hear the weariness in her voice as it becomes softer with each sentence. her train of thought is interrupted by a yawn, and as she starts muttering about her stress once more, her eyelids flutter shut. even a church mouse wouldn't be able to hear her sentence with how quiet her uttering became, but you paid attention to every syllable.

when she drifts to sleep you finally properly look at her and see the familiar look of clothing around her, your shirt. a faint smile washed over your face watching her at peace face with fluent and even breaths. god you were enamoured with this woman, she’s everything someone could imagine but more wild and true to self. she’s vivid about topics she loves and has the beauty of the stars naturally. her eyes hold stories authors dream about as fairytales, ‘she’s divine and made to perfection’ you think whilst staring at her longingly. darkness swallows the room as you turn the side lamp off to fall back asleep.

dimmed sunlight brightly stood in the misty blue sky as flowers peered into the room. alina blinked all sleep away and realised how close the two had gotten during the night. limbs were entwined and hair splayed over the pillows. alina then took notice of how calm your resting form was, it was purely serene. she began staring at you lovingly. you were perfectly divine in alina’s eyes. your smile and laughter made everything so bright it was like she was summoning the sun. your thoughtfulness made you angelic, in her eyes no one could be more perfect. small features of your face began to be engrained in her mind as she bathed in this peace. she was brought back to reality as birds chirped and pecked on the bushes and flowers, along with yourself

your eyes were greeted with the sight of alina snuggling into you as she looked at your face lovingly. ‘i think im in love with you’ she softly spoke bringing you right awake like a shot of espresso. her eyes held uncertainty as she awaited your response. everything was smushed into a blur when you uttered the words back to the sun saint. a small laugh escaped both of your lips paired with a sigh of relief.

you both got out of the enticing warmth of the bed and got ready. ‘is that my shirt?’ you ask, a shy curt nod was all you needed as an answer before you started smiling towards her.

[mercy-mercie-mercymorn]

agrovember week 2 - hera

this doesn't really fit well with the week's theme but i couldn't settle on anything else. a part of my ancient alexandria period piece from a non-cynthia pov (gasp!) that will almost definitely be changed later. coherent puzzles are hard to write.

full thing under the cut! (light blood/violence tw)

They had kept Zosime for five days. 

They tortured her husband and ransacked the luggage, stripping out every flake of gold and bloodying Raneb’s nose when he tried to keep the gifts for his mother-in-law safe. The bandits donned their clothes and laughed about it around the fire. A man with scarred arms and foul breath wore Raneb’s temple garments. Another, a scrawny boy looking to impress his betters, strutted about in Zosime’s vivid red dress, wailing a sultry song to the drunken men. 

At night, Zosime was caged like an animal. During the day, the brute in charge took her into the ruins, tossed her bag of supplies at her feet, and had her work by torchlight. Though he’d forbidden his men from touching her, he’d slap her to the floor if she spoke out of turn. 

She wanted to see them all dead. 

Gods bless her husband, he was still alive. They had only a few moments alone over the last days, but he still clutched her face in his hands, looked at her through one swollen eye, and asked her with a split lip, “Did they hurt you, my love?” 

In the dark, she prayed that the gods strike the men down. Isis, Sekhmet, Neith, Satet, give your blessing, give your strength…

Until they delivered their justice, she would continue the work. They’d brought her here because she was the sharpest mind in the Mouseion—bar Phaidonos himself. She’d show them just how cunning she really was. 

What she knew, in summary, was they needed someone with a brain to solve the puzzles in the ruins. They had a courier who could fetch any materials she needed from the Mouseion within the day. Their orders arrived the same way. The underlings were barely kept in line; they were a few groups of sellswords corralled by the man in charge. He carried himself with the surety of a military man, and when he thought no one was looking, he limped. 

Zosime wrote her notes in a cipher based on her mother tongue, Nubian. Only one man could read, and he wasn’t the one who breathed down her neck as she read over a half dozen scrolls trying to find out what plant some long-dead warlord tended to in his retirement. She’d tried to send a message to the library by hiding a scrap of papyrus in one of the texts she didn’t need anymore. 

When it slipped out, they made her watch as they pressed red-hot metal into Raneb’s skin. 

She’d been keeping track of their shifts, which ones fought when the other took their rations, which ones got too drunk during the night. And it seemed like someone else had too. 

Beneath the moon’s thin sliver, the svelte shadow went nearly unseen. The men on guard duty around the perimeter were looking longingly at the men around the fire, not at the edges of camp. Zosime its only witness, the figure approached, creeping around piles of rubble and stone pillars stripped of their paint and invading brush. 

Zosime sat up, staring intently at the approaching stranger, willing Isis to weaken the shadows just enough for her to know—

With the tip of her finger aloft, a tiny flame sparked, glinting off the golden eyes of Phaidonia. 

Phaidonia and her brother, Phaidonos, were strange. Most men were too busy trying to woo the scholar’s beautiful sister to notice how she looked at the world. Like she was able to burn it down at any moment. Phaidonos had knowledge beyond his years and a private collection to rival the library itself. He was sharper than any man in the city, and had never succumbed to the prejudice that had isolated Zosime before they’d met. He’d always respected her, even. 

Still, she’d never expected his kid sister to be here, of all places. 

Phaidonia hurried to the bars of Zosime’s cage. “Gods, what did they do to you? I’ll kill them,” she whispered. The flame on her index finger cast menacing shadows on the other side of her face. 

“What are you doing here?” Zosime demanded, as softly as she could manage. 

Phaidonia lifted the other index finger to her lips, glaring. She rummaged through her peplos and fetched a few pins. The fire was then extinguished as she moved to the lock. Zosime heard the soft clicking as the woman fiddled with it, then what felt like a startlingly loud click as the lock opened. The cage door swung open softly.  

When they crept away from the cage, Phaidonia headed away from the ruins, while Zosime made straight for it. The other woman pursed her lips and followed only because she had something to say: “What are you doing?” Zosime entreatingly grabbed the woman’s arm. “They want what’s down there, but I’ve almost figured it out. Get Raneb, please.” Phaidonia stared at her appraisingly. “I’m not talking you out of this, am I?” she muttered, primarily an exercise in rhetorical questions. She withdrew two knives from the folds of her peplos and handed one off. Zosime had never used a knife, not like this. Her fingers, stiff from the cold desert night, sat awkwardly around the hilt. With a sigh, Phaidonia bodily adjusted her grip and then led her into the ruins. 

As soon as they’d rounded the corner, she lit one of the torches on the wall. Though Zosime yearned to ask why Phaidonia could control fire like an extra limb, there wasn’t time. 

“I’ll be back in a bit,” promised Phaidonia. “Hide unless I announce myself. Raneb will be safe with a friend of mine, and we’ll meet him after. Try not to die before I get back, otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it from my brother.” 

She didn’t wait for a reply, dipping back out into the night with the surety of Neith. Zosime took the torch and dove into the darkness. The men had scrubbed away the painted protective spells on the threshold of the passageway into the depths. She’d thought it was a superstition until the scrawny one took a wrong step and corpse beetles poured from the walls. Phaidonia and her fire only made it more clear that magic was real.

The words incised in the stone walls were not spells, however. They were questions. In the year of the Great Flood, which Sobek brought joyfully, what was his sacred son fed? Can Ma’at exist without Isfet? Both were followed by a series of mathematical problems she’d solved, albeit not without grinding her teeth flat in the process. History was her specialty and philosophy her best friend’s, but math never captured her interest (or that of her childhood tutor, for that matter). 

For each problem, she’d had to arrange ushabti in the large central room. Each star in the constellation on the floor had a number, and careful trial and error had revealed the answers to the questions that were too faded to make out, worn smooth by persistent condensation dripping through the cracks in the limestone. And the philosophy one, too. How was she supposed to know if her answer aligned with the builder’s? 

The whole thing felt rather like a game. There were no honored dead for the ushabti to serve, no riches to warrant all the spells and traps. But there was a reason she was here, and a reason that a curled-up skeleton rotted in the next passageway. 

Her work had paused beyond the unfortunate explorer. At some point, he’d offered his blood to the altar of an inscrutable sphinx. His blood stained her open maw, making her appear even more like a gorging lion. Zosime had carefully taken samples of the men’s blood—it had taken hours to convince the soldier in charge to forfeit even a drop—and fed the sphinx. It didn’t activate until she’d cut herself on the sharp blade hidden on the roof of the sphinx’s mouth. She’d answered the riddle that had sprawled across the dais where the creature perched on her leonid haunches: What do I crave more than your wits? 

Miraculously, it had sat up when she fed it, a house cat intrigued by an errant bug. The ex-soldier let free an ugly chain of swears as the sphinx turned her face to one side, looking towards the doorway of another room full of nonsense. 

And that was how it went: she’d piece together clues and navigate down and down into the earth. As she went on, she lit cold torches, hoping to lead Phaidonia to the very last puzzle. 

When they’d unearthed the place, the brute overseeing her had let out a strangled noise. Indeed, the treasure here made up for each empty chamber. Torchlight glinted off every spare golden bauble. She’d forced the men to consult with their leader—the one who was too important to wait in a ruin out in the desert—and felt vindicated when he agreed with her on leaving everything of value in place. Even fools wouldn’t cross the dead, not in a place that breathed magic. 

Zosime felt so cold that she thought her breath ought to mist in the air as she placed the torch in some excessively gilded goblet. She crossed to the coffin in the center of the room. It should’ve had a death mask on its lid, even just a painted board, but it was blank. 

The tomb of Alexander the Great, said the scrawny one. 

Ramses II’s secret lover, posited the scarred man. 

Someone we shouldn’t rouse, the boss decided. 

Zosime took the knife Phaidonia had given her and began to pry open the coffin lid. 

[mostlymarvelsstuff]

can you do part to of gip natasha eating reader out then fucking her after they leave the gym locker room

Authors note: Here ya go! Glad so many of you enjoyed the first part so I hope you guys enjoy this continuation just as much!

Word count: 2081        Nat Masterlist    Marvel Masterlist   Part 1, 3, 4

The two of you clean each other up by the large sinks near the gyms showers, making yourselves look presentable before she grabs her gym bag and heads for the changing room. Once she's back in her casual clothes she emerges and finds you leaning on her locker as you wait for her, and she smiles. She's so glad that this isn’t a dream and everything that's happened with you was real, and that you voiced your want for even more with her.

   When you notice her staring you hold your hand out for her and she quickly walks over to grab it, linking her fingers with yours. You start to walk, intent on leaving and heading out of the gym but Natasha has something she wants to do first.

     “Wait.” she calls out, stopping you in your tracks as you turn to face her. 

   Her free hand gently cups your face, her thumb resting on your cheek and her vivid green eyes stare longingly into yours as her tongue wets her lips, and before you know it her soft plush lips are against yours. She's hesitant at first, unsure of your interest in this, but when you open your mouth allowing her to deepen the kiss her confidence skyrockets. 

   She drops your hand, moving hers to caress your back as she pulls you flush against her. You hum, wrapping your arms around her neck and moaning when you feel her tongue slide against yours. Her hand wanders down to your ass, gently squeezing. You chuckle against her lips before pulling away.

   “Slow down baby” you tell her, cupping her face and causing her heartbeat to speed up, “Take me to your room”

   She smiles, quickly grabbing your hand once more and you chuckle as she practically drags you out of the locker room and out through the gym. To your surprise she continues to hold it as she leads you through the seemingly endless halls. You were sure she would drop it once you got closer to the kitchen and living areas, not wanting the others to see her in such a comfortable and potentially suggustable position with you, but she never did. In fact when you almost pulled your hand away from hers, startled by Tonys sudden laughter from further down the hall, she only held onto you tighter.

   Finally you come to her room, and though she's excited her hand freezes on her door knob. You can sense her sudden nervousness and gently squeeze her hand, rubbing your thumb across her knuckles to soothe her and coax her into telling you what was worrying her.

   “Are- are you sure?” she quietly asks, worried that you may have changed your mind despite what occurred in the locker room, and your heart clenches as you hear the true meaning behind her words. Do you really want me? I don’t want to be something you regret.

   “I’m sure Tasha. I want this with you” Her beautiful smile returns and she ushers you through her doorway, locking lips with you again in a needy kiss as she blindly closes and locks her door behind her. 

   Caught up in her hunger for you, your hands tangle around her neck as she continues to walk you backwards. The next thing you know your legs are hitting the side of her bed, and your knees buckle as she continues to kiss you senseless. Your hold on her brings you both down on her mattress, but her reflexies catch her time so she doesn't land on you. Her eyes sparkle as she hovers above you and you know you’ll treasure soft moments like this with her.

   One of her hands trails across your abdomen and her fingers play with the bottom of your shirt in a silent question. You answer her by sitting up slightly, pulling your shirt off in a swift motion,  your bra joining it on Natashas floor seconds later.

   She wastes no time, grouping one of your breasts as her mouth kisses the soft flesh of the other. Her thumb brushes against your nipple as she takes the other into her mouth pulling a moan from you as you arch further into her. After a few more moments she releases your nipple to kiss her way down your chest and abdomen coming to a stop at your shorts waistband. 

    She hooks her fingers around the fabric, “Can I taste you detka(baby)?”

   “God yes, please Tasha” you reply, lifting your hips for her 

   Your shorts and underwear are swiftly removed, leaving your dripping cunt bare for Natashas gaze. A sense of pride fills her because she knows it was the sight and taste of her cock that caused you to be so wet and she can’t help but smirk. Her hands snake around your thighs, pulling them farther apart.

    “So beautiful” she admits, causing you to blush slightly before you're moaning as her tongue slips between your folds

   Your one hand grabs at her hair, pulling her mouth impossibly closer to your pussy as your other provides you with enough support to watch her. Your sweet moans fill her ears as her tongue slips inside you, and she moans at the flavor of your juices causing you even more pleasure. Occasionally her lips meet your clit with a soft kiss or gentle suck pulling an even more guttural noises from you. Your breathing becomes heavier and you can feel yourself quickly nearing the edge.

   “Ooh fuck Tasha! Gonna cum!” She watches as bliss overtakes your features and your hips begin to buck wildly as she continues to lap at your sensitive bud. Her hold tightens on your thighs as she helps you ride out your high, and you secretly hope she leaves bruises behind.

   Eventually she pulls away peppering kisses to your thighs as you calm down. Her eyes stare up at you once more, pupils blown wide as she smiles at you and you somehow find yourself melting even more for the beautiful Russian.

   You smile in return, letting your hand brush against her cheek for a moment before you're grabbing the back of her neck in a silent plea. She gets the message and makes her way back up your body, connecting her lips to yours allowing you to taste yourself. You hum in appreciation, hands grabbing her waist and pulling her flush against you. She grunts softly as her still clothed bulge rubs against you. 

   You smirk against her lips, letting one of your hands make its way under her shirt to caress her bare back as your other subtly makes its way between your bodies. She moans as you palm her dick and she can't help but grind against you as your hand at her back keeps her in place. She continues to eagerly hump your hand as you kiss her, she's slowly getting sloppy and you can feel the way her chest heaves against yours.

    The hand at her back starts to pull her shirt further up and she helps you remove it. Your eyes go wide and your jaw goes slack as you realize she removed her bra earlier when she changed, allowing her bare chest to be on display for you already. Both hands practically fly to her breasts, gently you knead the plump mounds pulling a soft moan from her as she continues to grind against you.

   “You are absolutely stunning” you admit, squeezing the soft flesh in your hands as the redhead blushes at your words

   “Y/n…” she rasps out, “Wanna be inside you, please…”

    “You wanna feel my pussy clench around you? Wanna stretch me open on your cock?” you tease, moving your hips in rhythm with hers causing another moan to leave her

    She nods almost frantically, “Yes, yes please!”

    “Go ahead baby” 

   She struggles slightly to remove herself from you long enough to discard her pants and boxers but doesn't stumble as she once again parts your legs, taking her place between them. She sighs as she lets her length run through your arousal and you let out a low moan as she brushes against your clit. She wastes no more time and lines herself up with your entrance, slowly pushing herself inside you. 

   You hiss at first, not used to having so thick inside you but it doesn't take long for the sensation to turn pleasurable. Her hips meet yours and her head falls back as she bottoms out. She moans as she feels your warm walls squeeze her in all the right places and it takes a lot of her strength to not immediately just start pounding away.

   She slowly starts to move her hips, thrusting in and out of you, watching your face intently for any sign of discomfort. You smile at her, humming contently as your hands move to cup her breasts again and she leans down to press kisses against your collarbone. When her lips hit a more sensitive spot you whimper, your walls fluttering around her cock and she can’t stop herself from sucking a mark into the spot. 

   Your arms fly around her shoulders to keep her close and your hips begin to rock, enticing her to pick up the pace. She does so and watches as your mouth falls open when she hits every spot deep within you.

   “Ah, fuck! Never been so full”, you mutter causing pride and arousal to build inside her

    She moans against your neck, “Your pussy is perfect detka(baby), feels so good”

    Your nails dig into her shoulders as she continues to fuck you, moans spilling out of both of you as you each share in the intense pleasure. Her lips go back to their assault on your neck, sucking a few more marks into your skin before she's sharing sloppy kisses with you. She pulls away, panting for air and you take advantage of the opportunity to leave a few marks of your own on her collarbone. 

   She begins to thrust harder and faster and your legs wrap around her waist to give her an even better angle. You have her practically pressed on top of you now and the way her hardened nipples brush against yours has you arching impossibly closer to her. She moans and you can feel the way she twitches inside you, eager to release inside you.

   “ ‘m so close Tasha, so close.” you whimper, “Cum with me, please?”

   She leans her forehead against yours, eyes gazing into yours, “Fuck Y/n, gonna fill you up”

   That's all it takes for you to fall over the edge, the pulsing of your pussy sending her tumbling over after you as you milk her. She kisses you as she finishes painting your walls, gently brushing the hair from your face as you recuperate under her. She can still feel the way your legs tremble as they fall limp against the cool sheets and she starts to rub soothing circles against your warm skin to distract you as she pulls out. Eventually you come back to your senses, looking up at her with a doopy smile and a fondness in your eyes. 

   She smiles back, “I’ll be right back detka(baby), just gonna get something to clean you up”

   You only nod, still finding words a bit too hard currently. You watch her as she walks to the bathroom, hips swaying as she goes. She cleans herself off first before returning to you with another washcloth. She rubs your knee to signal what she's about to do but you still flinch and whimper as she cleans the sensitive area. Once she's content she tosses the rag into the laundry hamper a few feet away and lays down beside you, wrapping her arm around your waist as she nuzzles her face into your neck. 

   “You'll stay, right?” she asks, voice abnormally small, especially in her own bedroom 

    You let your hand rest on her arm, turning in her hold to face her, “Of course Tasha, I’m staying”

   She lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and you pull her closer into you, allowing her head to rest against your chest as you pull her blanket up over you both. 

   “Goodnight Y/n” she mumbles, sleep already invading her mind as the exhaustion from her workout and tonights activities hits her

   You place a kiss against her hairline, smiling when you hear her sigh contently, “Goodnight baby, sleep well”

   “I will, I have you now”

Taglist: @wandaromamoff69  @mmmmokdok   @nataliasknife @natashasilverfox   @when-wolves-howl  @wandanatvoid  @naomi-m3ndez @eonrioromanova @sayah13  @likefirenrain  @nighttime-dreaming @readings-stuff  @chaoticevilbakugo @crystalstark02 @wackymcstupid

[scarlett-vixen]

N - Necklace with Beel and Angst please :)

First of all! What did my boy do to deserve angst :( Second of all!! Here you go! 😌

Prompt: N- Necklace

Pairing: Beelzebub x Gn!Reader

Genre: Angst

Beelzebub was notorious for visiting the kitchen frequently but ever since you left he had been visiting less often. The walk to the kitchen wasn’t as fun anymore, Beel used to stop by your room on his way to see if you wanted to join or afterwards to spend time with you, now he would stop in the hall and stare longingly at your bedroom door.

About 16 days had passed since you left, it wasn’t exactly planned or on good terms, the pain of watching you leave was still strong in his heart.

You’d finally had enough, you couldn’t stand the constant arguing, you were sick of all the events Lord Diavolo kept throwing, you were outraged with the never ending assignments you were given. You had a falling out with Lucifer, although very one sided, you packed your things and stormed out of the House of Lamentation heading straight for the Demon Lord’s Castle. You had demanded that you be sent back home, you were done, this was the last time you’d ever set foot in the Devildom.

“Don’t even think about coming to look for me! I’m DONE!”

The sixth born felt his heart drop, those were the last words you said before entering the portal and vanishing from their lives. From his life.

Normally Beel would grab his snack then leave immediately, today he did something different though, instead of walking into the kitchen he stood outside your old bedroom door and reached for the doorknob.

All the feelings he had for you came rushing back like a tidal wave, remembering all the times he had opened this door to invite you to go places with him, all the times he had carried you back to bed after a long day, every tender moment the two of you had on the other side of this door now filling his mind.

Beelzebub opened the door a little too quickly, desperately hoping this was all a bad dream, wishing that you would be there on your bed waiting for him like always. He looked around the empty room and felt his heart break a little more.

A room that was once full of laughter, of smiles, of sleepless nights and gentle embraces, now sat empty and hollow. All your belongings were gone, all your clothes emptied from the closet, all the shelves that once held your books were bare, in their place was nothing but dust and small cobwebs beginning to form.

Beel shut the door behind him and walked over to where your bed used to be. He hated that his brother had gutted the room after you left in a fit of rage but he knew that if your bed was still here it would only hurt worse. He looked around at the empty space, the original layout still vivid in his mind, there really was nothing left of you here. Nothing but his feelings.

He could still see your smiling face, he could hear your voice calling his name to join you on the bed, he could feel your hand in is while the two of you cuddled. The Avatar of Gluttony never felt as empty as he did right now.

Beelzebub started to leave when something caught his eye. The only thing still left in the room was the massive table where you used to do your homework, it had been too heavy for one demon alone to move and his other brothers had all been too upset to assist in removing it, underneath it was something small and glittering.

Beel picked up the object and immediately felt the tears in his eyes. A small gold chain with his name on the end of it, it was the necklace he had bought for you a few months into your relationship, you had put it on the night he gave it to you and never taken it off.

He remembered how you had proudly shown it off to his brothers, how you would play with it when you were anxious, how beautiful it looked around your neck. He remembered how happy it made him to see his name against your skin, no matter where you were or what outfit you wore, you always kept the necklace on.

Tears started to roll softly down his face, somewhere in the back of his mind Beelzebub had thought you might be lying, he thought maybe you just needed a break and once you had cooled off you would come back to the Devildom. That you would come back to him.

He held the necklace gently, it looked so small and fragile in his large hand, this was the last remaining part of you in the Devildom. He knew this was the only thing he had left to remember you, your voice would eventually fade from his memory, your scent would disappear from his jackets, his brothers would avoid talking about you to spare their own hearts. He knew this necklace would be the only evidence of your existence here a hundred years from now.

He knew you weren’t coming back.

[restapesta]

They were sitting in their car in the middle of an empty McDonald's parking lot. It was three in the morning, star-lit darkness, the world around them only lit up by the white light of the always-opened drive-through.

It had been a craving that brought them here. Ian waking up for a midnight snack, realizing that Mickey was quite awake too, unable to truly rest until he knew his husband was near, with him. He had been standing in front of the fridge inside their scarcely illuminated kitchen, with Mickey sitting on the kitchen counter, legs criss-crossed watching him. Ian had been contemplating what would be best suited to satiate his hunger, besides the man licking strawberry yogurt clean off the spoon.

A light bulb had lit up above his head.

"Get ready."

"What?"

He threw his hoodie Mickey's way. It was big on Ian most of the time, but it was good enough to keep a person warm. "Trust me, Mick."

Mickey placed the gray sweatshirt over his head, pulling it over his torso until he was engulfed in it. Ian rummaged slowly around for their phones, wallets, and keys, searching for them in the dark. His eyes had accommodated to it, and the moonlight filtering in through the windows helped.

"Where are we going?"

"You look great in my clothes, you know. And, you'll see."

He grasped Mickey by the hand, their fingers locked together in a soft embrace, feeling the warmth of each other's skin. Mickey didn't resist for a moment, trusting Ian with his entire life, following after him like a moth to a flame. The only sound echoing throughout the silent apartment had been the turning of the key inside their lock, and later on the slight thudding of quiet steps outside in the hall before their door.

First they got inside their car, both Mickey and Ian staying silent as the redhead drove through the Westside streets—empty and calm. They were enjoying the peace, the clock on their dashboard showing 02:47, and their bodies were still touching, Ian's palm resting flat against Mickey's pajama-bottom-covered thigh, the ones he felt no need to change out of. Ian was in his too, checkered and amusing, reminding Mickey of a grandpa. It was ten minutes before the logo came into view, large and inviting.

Mickey's stomach rumbled unwittingly as he glanced at his husband, noting the twinkle in his eye. He himself was draped in a thick black sweatshirt, the hood obnoxiously pulled over his head, wisps of hair poking out, flaming red.

"Really?" Mickey asked, a slight flutter in his stomach at the image of it all.

"Open 24/7."

"That's your response?"

"Come on, baby, you're just hangry. Let's get some food in ya'."

Mickey couldn't argue.

Now they were in the car, stuffing their faces with hamburgers and fries, downing them with Coke like madmen—something about late nights made them starved—talking amongst one another with mouths filled with food. With anybody else, it probably would've been disgusting and unattractive.

But not with them. Never with them.

They were playing a game.

Twenty questions that were turning into thirty, all asked with no clear goal in mind, simply the first thing to pop into either one of their heads, out of their mouths only for them to hear.

"Have you ever thought about playing the ?"

"You know I play guitar."

"Do you want a guitar for your birthday?"

"It's my turn to ask the question."

"'kay. Ask."

"How old are those tiny as fuck briefs you have hidden in our dresser and why the fuck do you never wear them?"

"Those are two questions."

"You're blushing."

"'m not."

"Answer it, bitch."

"Just so you know, those briefs are brand new and they fucking fit amazing."

"Why was I then denied the pleasure?"

"Mick—"

"As soon as we get home, you're putting them on."

"Fine."

"You're gonna try them then too."

"Why?"

"Your ass. Have you seen your fucking ass?"

Mickey grinned.

They lapsed into silence as they slurped on the last few sips of their Cokes, plastic squeaking in their hands.

Ian finished his drink with a loud sigh, discarding the cup with the rest of the trash that was sitting between them. Mickey followed suit. They were stuffed now and slightly sleepy, drowsiness appearing in their eyes.

Mickey watched as Ian leaned back in his seat. They had reclined them all the way, so Ian was practically laying in it, long legs sprawled out underneath the console. He placed his hands across his stomach, palms across one another.

"What was the best day of your life?" He asked like the sap he was.

Mickey smiled at the question, teasing, "It's my turn."

"Mickey."

"Okay, fine," He chuckled, not wanting to play that specific game of pull and tug, content with the peacefulness of it all. "Let me think about it."

First kiss. Engagement. Wedding. Anniversary. Too many moments to pick from, each stained with a problem they had faced and overcame, beautiful in their own fucked up ways.

He nibbled on his lower lip as he recalled a memory of compete and utter happiness. No problems, no worries, no sadness. It dawned on him, the sensation like drinking water after days of dehydration.

"Remember that trip to Oklahoma?"

A smile graced Ian's features, his eyes briefly closing as he seemed to recall the day. "Don't think I could forget."

"We spent a whole day at that fair. Rented out a room at some shitty motel. From morning till night we went on every single ride possible. Literally saw every attraction there." He was getting lost in the memory, chest swelling with happiness. "Kissed on top of the Ferris wheel at midnight when it was just about to close, like fucking dorks."

He turned around to glance at Ian. He was looking straight at him, the small upturn of his lips reading clear in his eyes, gazing at Mickey like he was everything to him in this entire world.

Whispering, Mickey said, "That was the best day of my life."

Ian grabbed a hold of his hand slowly, delicately, placing it in his lap, the action making warmth heat Mickey's cheeks. Mickey leaned against his own seat, mirroring his husband, eyes on him all the way.

"The best day of my life was the 21st of June, 2021," Ian said longingly as if he was reading the beginning of some old fairytale-type story.

Mickey couldn't help the laugh that escaped him at Ian's sweet earnestness. "You know the date?"

Ian shot him a look, no bite in it whatsoever. "Allow me to tell the story, please?"

Mickey bit his lip to stop smiling. "Okay, okay, you're allowed."

Ian smacked lightly at Mickey's chest, not moving an inch, still slumped in his seat lazily.

"That night I had a dream," He began. "It wasn't even like a dream. More like a fucking vision—and I know how weird that sounds, trust me. But it was literally like a vision, clear and vivid and everything.

"Anyways, the dream—or vision, whatever—was of you and me, sitting in two lawn chairs, staring out into the world. But the thing is, we were older. Like, ninety-year-old old. We were just staring ahead. Then at each other. The way we looked at each other is how we look at each other now—filled with a bunch of love and fondness. It was just the two of us, together, old and gray."

Ian stopped and took a deep breath, leaning forward in his seat, locking eyes with Mickey who was listening carefully. Mickey straightened himself as well, and they were just sitting in their car, gazing softly at one another as Ian told the story, the remnants of their endeavor resting between them.

"So," He continued. "On the 21st of June, 2021, I woke up and all I could think about was that dream. It was like—like on a fucking loop inside my head, and each time I even glanced at you, I just saw the two of us, old and together.

"And I realized, as fucking weird as it sounds, that it was us. I swear Mick, it was you and me, years from now, just sitting in fucking lawn chairs, staring out into the world. Into each other's eyes." His eyes shone. "And all throughout that day, I knew that one day, we'd get there. That you and I would spend the rest of our lives together until we were wrinkly and gray and doing nothing but being together. Each time I even saw you from the cone of my eye, grumpy and frowning at whatever, I was so happy because I would get to spend the rest of my life with you.

"That, until the day I died, I would have you as my partner. My husband. My best friend. The love of my fucking life; by my side until there is nothing left in the world to do but sit by each other and just watch as time goes by.

"Just you and me, Mick. Until the end."

Mickey watched him inhale deeply.

"Best day of my fucking life, and I get to live it forever."

A tear slipped out of Mickey's eye. He felt it on his cheek, rolling down, hot against the already warm skin, yet all he could see was Ian. Ian with the shimmering orbs and that look in his eye like he was staring at everything he needed in life.

Mickey pulled his hand out of Ian's from where it was resting in his lap, then raised them to palm Ian's cheeks, pulling him in for a deep kiss. Lips moving together in the dark, serendipitous in all ways, the vulnerability for once a blessing instead of a curse.

"You never told me that story," He whispered against Ian's lips.

"It just felt right for me to know. Maybe we were just both waiting for this moment, unknowingly."

Another tear, filled with so much.

"We both live the best day of our life like that, Ian. Every single day."

Ian nodded, smiling against Mickey's lips. "I know, my love. I know."

They were sitting in their car in the middle of an empty McDonald's parking lot. It was four in the morning, star-lit darkness, the world around lit up by only them, the love palpable like a glow, allowing them to see clearly; see all the things that were important to them.

A person needed the match to their gasoline so they could light the fire that would burn and simmer. A person, too, needed the cord to their plug that would alight the darkness of the inside of their chest.

Because one would be lost without the glow in the dark. Or at least not be able to truly see.

[echo-three-one]

Alex Mason x Reader

Hello everyone! Here I am again with another NSFW fic!

This is going to be the first of many NSFW fics I'll be writing in which I will try to attempt to bond Reader and a character in more ways than one!

First up is our Alaskan Captain Alex Mason

why? because why not? 🥴

As always here is where I draw the line and warn you that this is graphic (for me, I don't know about you)

not good with warnings and etc. Read at your own risk. (2900ish words)

'wow. this was a nice read! I hope to see more of your work soon' You tapped the soft keys of your trusty laptop as you finished reading another fan fiction about your favorite character. Releasing a deep sigh, you peeked at the taskbar to see what time it was. 12:24 am. You could read another one, you told yourself as you let your fingers slide across the touch receptors of your device. Your room was already dark, you were happily positioned at your bed and you clicked on the link to your next story. I was another smut fic, but the chapter summary was full of words that didn't make sense together. You softly whispered each word, the other one louder than the next as you tried to comprehend what the author was up to. By the time you read the last word, a soft yawn escaped your mouth as you slightly drew your device close to you and began reading the fic.

The story was good. It started with a mystery where the characters started to wonder why it happened, then conveniently led it into a flashback style. You chuckled at the possibilities on how this fic goes but you suddenly felt your eyelids drop and you gave in to the feeling.

~

Cold. It was the feeling that sent you awake. You slowly opened your eyes and someone beside you lifted its head and started rubbing your head.

"You awake?" his low voice sent tingles down your spine. You know for a fact that this might be a dream, but it felt so real.

"It's too cold." You whispered, playing along with your mind, but you were very curious to see for yourself if your hunch was right.

"Of course Honey, we're in Alaska." he comments, you could hear him smile through his reply and your heart thumped faster as you felt his arms wrap around you, giving warmth to your icy skin.

"I don't live here. Why are we here? And who are you?" You turned slightly to him, his hug was restricting your movement and it's not that you didn't like it, it was just too overwhelming to be hugged.

"Fairbanks, Alaska. And who am I? I took you to dinner earlier and you forgot who I am?" he complained, letting go of his grip and looking intently at you as you flipped yourself to face him.

What you saw was unbelievable. He looked like the actual photos you downloaded, every detail felt correct and you're starting to be proud of your brain for conjuring such vivid thoughts.

"Alex… Mason?" you catch your breath, covering your mouth with your hands as he smiled and tucked your hair and placed it behind your ear.

"Full Name? Did I do something wrong honey?" he pouted his lips as you longingly looked at it, wondering if you will be able to remember all.of these when you wake up.

"Nothing h h honey.." you played along as he planted a soft kiss on your forehead. It was warm and wet, too realistic of a feeling to be assumed as a dream. You reach out your finger as you softly poke his skin, the touch felt real and Alex actually got scared of your immediate actions.

"Something bothering you, honey?" he asked with a smile. You wondered about how to respond and is it really worth it to respond even if after all of this is just a dream. But if it is a very realistic dream, you debated that the good choice was to enjoy whatever the fuck this place is before the real you actually wakes up.

"Kiss me." you dared the captain as you cupped his cheeks. Much to your surprise, Alex didn't hesitate to lean forward, close his eyes and pout his lips. 

"Eh. Fuck it." you whispered to yourself as you started to accept Mason's kisses. His mouth felt so real inside yours, his tongue probed around the regions of your mouth while your tongue battled against his. Soft moans from your mouth filled the small space between your bodies as Alex reciprocated it with soft groans. Original pleasure groans, not those found in the game files. You felt your body tense as his hand slowly slid on your thigh, through the silk fabric of your pajamas. You whimpered at his warm touch and ran your hand across his arm, feeling his muscles tense as he gave your thigh a soft and teasing squeeze.

"What made you change your mind tonight, honey?" Mason whispered against your ears, his soft voice made your hairs tingle. You couldn't believe what was going on but insisted that your mind was capable of conjuring such vivid illusions.

"I can't stop thinking of you, Alex." You groaned needily. It wasn't necessary to say that but you really played your part in this fantasy, something you never expected you'd do but Alex seemed to enjoy it.

You moaned the moment his hand lifted the garter of your pajamas and slowly reached for your intimate area, this was the first time you looked down and realized that this isn't your body. 

'Shit' you whispered to yourself as you started to get up and touch your body. Alex got up too and wondered about your condition.

"You okay?" he flicked his lamp and you saw a clearer version of the man sleeping next to you. Your eyes widened at the realistic rendition of Alex Mason, his hair was sort of messy, he was wearing a blue and white striped silk pajama combo and his right elbow sank deep into the mattress, supporting his body. All of those things weren't on the game files you browsed endlessly.

"Pinch me." was all you could say.

"Really? I'm not going to hurt you, you know that." Alex ran his left hand to fix his messy hair, your eyes couldn't help but enjoy the way his arms flexed in front of you.

"Fine. I'm pinching myself." You surrendered and squeezed your arm using your fingers, sending a pulse of pain to your brain. You're still here and a very real Alex Mason is still in front of you.

"Maybe you just need some water. I'll go get you some." Alex offered and got down the bed, dragging his feet on the floor as he made his way to the kitchen. You couldn't help but stare at his beautifully shaped ass while he did it. Just like what you let Bell do when you played through the game.

You quickly scramble around the room as soon as he's gone. Drawers filled with notes and unimportant documents, photo frames of you two on different places around the globe, there's also one with Frank Woods, who's also wearing outfits and poses not on the game.

"Where am I? How do I go back?" You worried as you heard footsteps walk back to the room. Tossing the covers, you quickly slipped inside them and went back to the position you were in when he left, just like nothing happened.

"Here's a glass." he handed it over to you, it was so sweet that you could feel your heart melt and gave you more reason to leave this place before you want to stay here forever. Your hands trembled as you held the water. Mason's arms were on his hips as he smiled at watched you try to drink it, but instead, you poured it all over your face.

"Goodbye, Alex!" you yelled as the water splashed all over your face. Mixed with Alaska's cold temperature, it felt like tiny bits of ice tickled your skin. This is it, you're home. You slowly open your eyes and much to your expectations, Alex Mason was still there, standing in shock at your actions.

"I'm going to get a towel, and remind myself to take you to the doctors first thing tomorrow morning." he said as he helped himself to the closet with some towels and a fresh change of clothes.

He wanted to be the one to wipe off your face, but you insisted to do it yourself. It may be a dream come true to be sleeping beside and pampered by Alex Mason, but this was too supernatural to occur. 

"Take off your clothes." he muttered, his tone was commanding yet concerned. You blush at the thought, you've been reading a lot of fanfiction about him and this was exactly what you'd pictured he'd sound and look like saying that exact same phrase.

"Turn around." You mutter, fidgeting on the topmost button of your pajamas.

"Aw come on. It's not like I haven't seen that beautiful body of yours before." He smiled, it was way better than the smile he gave to Frank when you played the game. This one sent butterflies on your stomach. 

'Ah fuck it.' you mentally told yourself as you gave in to this little realm's temptations. You stared at Alex invitingly, to which he responded with a slow crawl back up the bed, his fingers trailed on your second button, while you worked on the first.

"There's the girl, I used to know." he mused, his lips slowly inched toward yours as you slowly close your eyes and felt his mouth slowly smooch against yours, leaving that soft sound of your wet lips parting etched into your brain. More of those sounds filled the room, as you tense your shoulders and trailed your hands across the silky texture of his clothes, feeling the bit of hard muscle underneath it.

Alex groaned at your touch, whispering to you how he yearned for such intimacy after all those years of being controlled. You noted that the numbers were canon and that meant it's not just someone who looked like Alex Mason, you were with THE Alex Mason.

You giggled as he met your exploring hands with his, wrapped his fingers around yours and slowly pushed you down the bed. His mouth went back to your lips, kissing you like he'd never kissed in years. 

His hands slowly parted your grip as you reached for his cheek, not wanting to let him go. His hand finished the rest of the buttons, leaving your body wide open. He gave you a menacing smirk as he slid his fresh shaven chin down your body, leaving soft trails of kisses every inch he traveled, you couldn't help but gasp as the sensation, lifting your body unconsciously every time he parted his lips from your skin.

You headcanon Mason as someone who's slow and intimate but his actions surprised you as he aggressively lifted your lower body and slid your pajamas along with your underwear tossing it behind. His eyelids were half closed when he turned his gaze to you. You were looking down at him, your face almost incomprehensible, but your mouth was open enough you could feel yourself almost drool.

His fingers teased your shaven opening, two fingers formed a small peace sign, splitting the two regions of your pussy open. You couldn't help but groan and he chuckled at your initial reaction.

"Don't worry. We don't have neighbors here." he winked and started to trail his tongue on your pussy, eyes focused on yours.

You gasped as his tongue repeatedly moved between your legs, sending jolts of pleasure across your body as it unwillingly lifts itself up. Mason then grabs your legs and spreads them open, pushing it close to you, leaving you very open.

You could feel the pain of your position but it was unmatched with the pleasure his tongue was doing to you. It felt like he hadn't done this in years and was reliving his younger days as he did it. You had no problem with it, you moaned along with his movements, joined him while he gasped and praised your perfection.

You were already soaking when he stopped and you opened your eyes out of curiosity. He quickly unbuttoned the rest of his clothes and dropped it on the floor. He was far from the light of the lamp but you could see the silhouette of his erect cock that he slowly rubbed. You gulped as he positioned its tip at your entrance and swallowed as he slowly pushed the tip.

Warm. It felt warm as it slowly eased it's way inside you. You could feel your tight walls cling around his shaft and can't help but sigh as each inch slowly penetrated your being.

"Alex…" you whimpered. He looked serious and concerned but your eyes already told him to push through and that was all he needed.

"Oh." you gasped as he pushed himself a little bit more and slowly pulled. The pull felt amazing as your walls tightened once again when he left. Then came another thrust and the sensation repeated as he continuously picked up his pace, low moans escaped his mouth and made your whole body shiver at the delightful sound of it. The sound you were capable of making him do.

The bed creaked along as Alex's silhouette continued to fill your vision, the way his shoulders rise and fall with his swings and the way his arms looked when he reached to play with your breasts were like an art you were appreciating. It's almost you never wanted this dream to end.

His groans became heavier and his thrusts stopped as he quickly pulled himself out, panting and gasping. You almost pushed him on the edge and he wasn't giving up yet.

You quickly got up and climbed up his face, kissing him intimately, like this will be the last time you'll be ever kissing him, he gave in to your sweet lips and your heads swayed along with your kisses, hands probing every inch of your bodies, squeezing, grabbing, grazing and teasing.

You giggled as you pulled back and his mouth reached out to you more, he was needy but you had other plans. Your hand reached out for his balls, grabbing it and playing with it while your mouth trailed down to his chest, inhaling that sweet Captain-like musk he had, down to his pecs, which were perfect and down to his hard cock.

You softly kissed the tip, tasting a little bit of sticky liquid from it. You were right, he was already on the edge. You seductively swallowed him slowly as he let out a low groan

while you let out a teasing gag sound.

"Haaah… Fuck." he gasped as you continued to work your tongue around his rod, your eyes looked like smiling as you roll it upward and look at his reaction. He was beautiful even in that face.

He cupped your cheek and slowly lifted your head up and met his lips, this time you're already comfortable with the situation and you want more. You hungrily tasted his mouth, savoring whatever this fantasy was, and he reciprocated it with force gently pushing you to the bed while he pressed his firm body against yours, his warm cock stood firm and pressed against your stomach as he continued to romance his mouth on yours.

Once the smooching was enough he slowly lifted your leg and laid down behind you, your shoulders pressed against his chest feeling his nipples. 

You felt his tip point at your entrance, teasing you as you turned your head to him and furrowed your eyebrows. He seemed to like the way you're needing him badly so he slowly slid himself inside once again.

He felt like the first time all over again, but this time he didn't take his time slowing it down. He was actually excited. You felt his gasps on your neck as he bucked and swayed his hips inside you while you yelped in pleasure.

"Please… Alex…" you begged him for more, even if you already felt more than enough that you could handle, you felt greedy. He seemed to understand your language as he hummed amusingly, grabbing your breast with gripping force as he continued fucking you from behind.

You closed your eyes to savor each of his thrusts but it immediately felt quiet. Yo looked for him and he was already in front of you, kneeling, and readying his cock for another round.

You wished it would never end but at some point he had to release all his tension, you asked him to spray it across your whole body and wanted him to join you to clean it up later and he did. It was a lot, you felt hot shoots of his load, on your neck, breasts, stomach and down to the top of your pussy. You both gasped in excitement and exhaustion as he plopped himself to you and gave you a very long and sweet tongue action.

The cold Alaskan air breezed through the window but you were both sweating and panting, never wanting to part your lips.

You both eventually fell asleep later in the night and it was the first time in quite a while that you actually slept well, you slowly opened your eyes to see the handsome soldier sleep beside you but what greeted you was your phone. You quickly got up and looked around. You were back on your room, you're back to your normal life. It's a mix of happiness and sadness, as you realized it was all a figment of imagination, and a realistic one at that, too.

You open your phone and Alex Mason's face greeted you. He was your wallpaper and it almost felt that you took it that night, you didn't remember downloading that wallpaper but ignored it and carried on with your life with that beautiful memory planted in your mind.

[snowfea]

@potatofu-art made a beautiful piece of art that killed me, so I thought that I would return the favor. Watch out, it’s hurt (kill) the bard hour.

 (also, @background-noise-headache said something about Geralt having to roll Jaskier over and, well)

Of all the things that might have caused his death, with Nilfgaard’s army lurking around and angry spouses, Jaskier had to admit that he had never once thought that he would get killed by a wyvern. Geralt was a skilled fighter, and he trusted him to protect him.

What he had not expected was that *he* might have to protect Geralt.

It was all very poetic, he mused as his lute lied beside him on the floor, broken. The bard who shielded his witcher from people’s prejudices with his songs, shielding him one last time from the attack of a wyvern with his lute.

He vaguely felt that Geralt rolled him over. Why was he on the ground again ?

Ah, yes. The wyvern had clawed him. That would explain why he was laying on a pool of his own blood. He wished he could see himself, surely the red of his blood and the white of the snow made a beautiful tableau, clashing together in a way he knew he would never be able to replicate if he ever were to take on painting.

Geralt had taken care of the wyvern. He knew this because it hadn’t attacked him again. He had also heard the “thunk” of Geralt’s sword hitting the snow, and if he hadn’t heard the desperate “No, no, no” that was falling from his witcher’s lips, he would have chided him. What if another monster was to attack them ?

Jaskier forced himself to open his eyes. The sky was a clear blue. A beautiful day to die. He had made peace with it ; the only regret he had was that he would leave Geralt’s side, would never meet Cirilla again, would never-

So maybe he hadn’t made peace with it. He still had to convince Geralt that he was fine, though. The witcher’s hands were hovering over his body, and Jaskier could hear his desperate horror. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer. He no longer felt cold, just warm, though maybe that was because Geralt was by his side. The last thing he would see would be his friend, and wasn’t that a beautiful view to take with him ?

Focus, Jaskier. Even seconds mattered, now. He tried to raise his hand to touch Geralt’s cheek, but couldn’t even move a finger. Well. How was he supposed to say that he wasn’t mad at Geralt ? That he didn’t need to feel guilty over his death ? That he would gladly die a thousand times, if it meant protecting him ? Three words or less, he thought.

“I love you”

He smiled to himself. Yeah, that would have to do.

Geralt knew that one day, he would be too slow. Too slow to cast a sign to defend himself, too slow to duck, too slow to react and save his life.

He had never thought that him being too slow wouldn’t result in him dying, but rather in his most precious friend dying. Surely Destiny was laughing at him.

But all of these thoughts didn’t cross his mind when he first heard Jaskier’s cry. No, they came to him much later, once he had buried him, once he had to ride away from the place where the person he loved the most had been taken away from him. They came to him as he walked next to Roach without Jaskier’s singing to distract himself. They came to him at night, when he stared longingly at the other side of the campfire in the silence of the night.

What he thought when he saw Jaskier fall on the ground was- absolutely nothing. He managed to kill the wyvern as a wave of despair crushed onto him. His mind totally blank, he all but ran at Jaskier’s side, letting his sword fall on the snow. He didn’t hear it fall, couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t Jaskier’s raspy breathing.

Geralt fell on his knees. Still driven by horror and despair, he rolled Jaskier over. This was bad, this was really bad. From what he could see the wyvern had attacked Jaskier with its claws, not his venomous trident. But that just meant that Jaskier wouldn’t die from the venom ; he had lost a lot of blood, and it was very likely that he wouldn’t- that he couldn’t- that he would die.

Jaskier opened his eyes. Geralt wanted to tell him to close them, to keep his strength, but he selfishly didn’t say anything, wanting to look at them one last time, to remember their precise shade of blue. Then Jaskier’s eyes found his, and Geralt felt his heart being torn open.

He couldn’t even smell the wildflower scent that meant Jaskier and safety. It was covered by the smell of blood, of iron. It felt so wrong, to see such a vivid red on Jaskier’s blue doublet. Jaskier was supposed to be blue, from his cornflower eyes to the clothes he wore.

Geralt wanted to touch him but didn’t dare to, didn’t know how. None of his potions would be helpful, he didn’t have time to run to a healer, to call Yennefer. He had never hated his nature of witcher more, the mutations ensuring that whatever potions could help him would just kill his friend. He could already feel that Jaskier was struggling to stay awake, was struggling to stay- to stay alive.

“I love you” Jaskier whispered.

To Geralt’s horror, his friend smiled and closed his eyes again. He wanted to scream, to tell him to open them again, he wanted to apologize for not being fast enough, for not being good enough.

Silence fell on the forest and on Geralt’s life as Jaskier breathed for the last time.

[missingartist]

The Witcher’s Mate Chapter 22

-Geralt was struggling. It was not something he liked to admit, but being so close to Adva and not being able to touch or talk to her was the most intense pain he had ever felt. He had taken her at her word and left his mate alone, giving her a wide berth, all the while staring longingly as she went about her business. Thankfully, she spent most of her time with Ciri, training or in the library. Geralt could barely contain it when Vesemir spent more than 5 minutes in her company, let alone Jaskier. The way the bard slide in next to her as she worked at the table or slung his arm around her shoulder had cost several clay mugs and three chair arms. The bard was doing it on purpose he was sure of that, even now Jaskier was strumming out some filthy ballad.

‘Here she saw little Smitty Jones, walking in the crowd "Come home with me, little Smitty Jones, come home with me tonight. Come home with me, little Smitty Jones, and sleep with me till light"’ the brunette cooed in an off-pitch warble.

The gentle giggle tinkled out into the air, and her eyes light up in a bright glare as she laughed. A surge of unbridled jealousy roared within him. She hadn’t some much as look at him like that since that night. That fatefully night. Throwing a glare across at the singing minstrel, Geralt slammed closed the book sending Triss and Vesemir into a series of splutters as a cloud of dust billowed into the air as well as sending the various scroll clattering across the table and scattered onto the floor before and storming out the room.

The Witcher flew out of the room into the main hallway. Unfortunately, the first thing he saw was a grand antique cabinet, the poor thing was wretched from the wall and sent screeching across the polished floor, a thick gash cracked down the main body of the wood. Grunting, Geralt pulled his hand down his face, a roar vibrated from his chest, echoing across the hall as his hand caught sight of the blue sweat that glistened in the weak sunlight that beams in through the stain glass window. The blue substance that Triss had been painting across his body no coated the majority of his body. It was another constant reminder that Adva had rejected him. Everywhere he went, he left a trail of blue. Despite only wearing the thinnest material he continued to drip with sweat, the sticky ooze had lost most of its potency, barely giving him an hour of relief. Soon he would have to leave, the last of his control was ebbing away. It took all his strength not to sweep in, throw Adva on the table and rip her dress off before burying himself in her thighs and sticking his teeth into her tender flesh. The hours he had spent imaging the bonding, it would happen in several stages, and all of them lead to Adva becoming a panting puddle underneath him, begging to be his. There was only one thing he wanted more than that, and that was her marking him, her longing for him to be hers. But no, at the current situation that would not be happening, and he would need to leave soon before he became feral and gods know what he would do if that happened.

‘My, My, such an angry Witcher! It seems your little mermaid has gone off you.’ Yennefer purred as she revealed herself from behind a stone pillar.

Turn round golden eyes trained on to the mage, a silent sigh running down his body. The dress was, compared to the other he had had to endure, was relatively tame. A velvet halter strap encircled her delicate neck and a tight correct displayed firm breast and a toned waist before the black velvet fell over her hip in a billowing skirt. At least she was wearing clothes this time.  For the last ten days, he had seen his former lover naked eight times, the last time sprawled in his new bedroom down by the lake. Since her last attempt to seduce him in the armoury, Geralt took sanctuary in the old lake hunt to rid himself of the mages unwanted advances – and not to tempt himself with any midnight strolls past Adva room.

‘Yennefer don’t.’ Ciri bite in rolling her eyes at the older woman.

‘He needs to know Ciri. She has barely said anything to him since we have arrived. I was just trying to get a rise you when I said she preferred Jaksier but seems I was right all along she does like that singing turd.’ The purple eyes mage pushed, resting her hand on his chest, nails scratching likely against his sensitive skin.

‘Fuck off Yennefer.’ Geralt sneered, flinching away towards the courtyard.

‘You have been ignoring me. I don’t get ignored Geralt; you know that.’ Yennefer snapped, trailing after him, an ugly sneer forming on her face as the Witcher dodge all of her grasps. ‘Geralt…please, we used to be good together.’

She knew she sound despite, but she was too far gone to care. It had been a long time since she felt rejected; her transformation made almost certain of it. She was after all sculpted by the best artist, so why was she being cast aside by Adva. She was no great beauty, passing pretty at the very most yet Geralt was in love with her, and no matter how she demined herself, he didn’t so much as falter. Hitching up her skirts, she trailed after him, grasping at his arm.

‘Geralt…Geralt please.’ Yennefer winced at her needy voice as forced herself in front of him.

Geralt growled down at the bronzed woman in from; the annoying mage had pushed herself in front of his path. Glaring at her, he felt a pang of guilt as she stared up at him desperately with big pleading eyes. He had understood her pain, but every time he felt the first blossoming of sympathy, he remembered Adva, bloodied and battered after being pushed through the floor and the barbed comments forced towards his timid mate.

‘We never were, you never cared enough; I just didn’t realise. Enough Yennefer. Enough. THIS stops now. GO!’ Geralt snarled lowly, before storming off down the path.

‘Great. It's your fault, you know.’ Ciri prodded ‘If you hadn’t manipulated and used him for your own selfish things, he wouldn’t have left and properly would never have stumbled across Adva in that backwater town.’ Ciri snapped.

‘Are you seriously blaming this on me.’ Yennefer yapped as she blinked away, angry tears.

‘Yes. You should be happy for them. Instead, you're making both their lives miserable.’

Ciri loved Yennefer; she would always be her mother, raising her from a scarred little princess into the strong Witcher she was now, soothed her through her trials, fought her corner when Geralt was being his gruff self and refusing to treat her like the adult she was becoming. However, now she felt like the parent of a petulant child, throwing a tantrum because someone had picked up a toy they were no longer bothered with.

‘Don’t I deserve happiness. I knew she would take everything from me, and I was right. First, she takes Geralt, then Triss and now you. The little bitch is up to something I can see it.’ Yennefer yelled.

‘She didn’t take us away. You pushed us. Adva would never take Geralt away; he would always be there for you, and so would she. That’s your problem; you can never see something good in someone. Someone Geralt who can worship without getting cast away. Adva is Geralt soulmate, someone who will love him in the way he needs, selflessly and unconditionally. Can you say you have ever done the same? Adva is a good person; you just have to look into her eyes and see that?’ Ciri pushed

Yennefer let out an unholy scratch as she conjured a bright yellow ball of fire and launched it into the air. Ciri watched silently as Yennefer blasted out a wave of energy knocking down two poor trees that stood innocent at the side before marching off into the forest.

‘Yen…’ Ciri started on after her, but something stopped her. Inhaling deeply, she caught the scent again; it was faint, so faint that it was almost hidden under all the others, almost. It was suspicious, not that the scent was faint or even that it mingled with the other to the point that is was almost undetectable but it what it smelt like. Like the sea, well like seaweed, that healthy smell of salty vegetation mixed with clean cotton. In passing, she might have brushed it off as Adva fragrance, but this was distinctly different; she had spent enough time with her mentors’ mate to know every note of her aroma. Narrowing her eyes, she gave one lingering look towards the path the raging mage had made through the wood before shaking her head and making her way off after the scent.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Yennefer growled as she sent a ball of fire across the tops of the trees. The smell of burning foliage pulled at her nose as she eyed the smouldering treetops, now all scorched in a perfect line, blacked and charred. A grin of satisfaction stretched other her face as she squared her shoulders and launched the biggest ball of fire she could at the largest tree closet to her which coincidentally looked the most like Adva head.

‘Such a pretty for a beautiful creature like yourself to be cast aside for such an unworthy thing as the Adva girl.’ A lone voice purred behind her.

Whirling around Yennefer was met by a man with a vivid green eye of a suave nobleman. Violet eyes rolled over him, with deep mistrust. No one, NO ONE came up to the mountain, the forest was too thick, impenetrable, filled with all sort of monsters and danger. Merchants and bandits stumbled up from time to time but never this far and never wearing something that fine. The man was dressed in the finery of a king, a rich quilted jacket in a mix of leather and silk. It sat tight against his chest, showing a toned and crafted body from hours of torturous training. He was tall and lean, learning cockily against the tree staring intensely at her.

‘And why would you care?’ Yennefer reeled back, hand posed and ready as she observed the man.

He let her take him in, unmoving from his positions on the tree as he spoke softly ‘I am what you might call a concerned member of society. I dislike jumped up usurpers.’ The man smiled, pushing himself off the tree and slowly, ever so slowly making his way to stand in front of her ‘I am here to propose a plan..’

‘And what makes you think I will help you with your plan.’ Yennefer snorted, edging herself to the corner of the clearing.

Yennefer did not like it. Not at all, the man was too clean-cut, to pristine. And while Geralt was not in her favourite list right now, she still did not want Kaer Morhen besieged by some arseholes, that would put Ciri in danger since she would rather die than leave. Yet, he stood in front of her arm out. Palm facing her, if he was some assassin or enemy he was a very poor one, he had let her have the advantage the second he made a move Yennefer could send out a deadly blast or teleport him to some unknown fair corner of the world, and that made him interesting and worthy of her attention.

‘My plan permanently gets Adva out of the picture.’

‘And how do you think you would do that? She is protected by two highly skilled Witchers, the Lady of Space and Time, a powerful mage and singing idiot.’

‘With your help, of course. What do you think?’ The man smiled widely, and he inched towards her.

Being a court mage for many years had taught Yennefer to remain impassive, the slight glimmer of emotion would reveal you are true indention and immediately set off a chain reaction of those who opposed your idea or intention. To say there wasn’t a burning desire to rid herself of that kitchen maid was putting it lightly however even before she became a mage she had learnt that if a man offered you something that you truly desired that it was always too good to be true. She did not like him at all; he gave out a claggy feeling, the sort of person who clung to you link a leech and didn’t let go till she had drained you of what he needed.

‘I think… I would go warn them so we can all kick you well-polished arse together’ Yennefer hissed as a purple light bubbled up from her tanned palms and gave off a humming glow.

‘Don’t disappoint me. I have spent so long appreciating you. We are much alike; we know what we like, and when we want it and we have both been cast aside by that wretch. I will kill Adva one way or another, but this way…this way is easier, cleaner and this way you get what you want.’ The man whispered, softly taking her hand and kissing it.

Lowering her attack, she watched as he once again retreated back before answering ‘And what is it that you want?’

‘I have the discretion to breathe life into that barren void between your legs and all I require in return is your help in getting rid of a pest, a blight on the face of the earth. The death of a creature, a deformed halfling who should never have been granted life. In exchange, you will be given the Witcher and a baby. All you have to is isolated and distract the little thing.’ The man said as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

‘If you can do what you say…., that is powerful magic. Why do you need my help? It’s not like she some skill warrior Mage.’ Yennefer quarried.

‘You underestimate her, you all do. You have no idea truly what she could be capable of, and if we continue to let her breath, she could find out. ‘The man purred, reaching out to touch her face in a soft caress. ‘I will make it look like an attack, and that you fiercely tried to save her, it will be clean a quick, just lure her to the edge of the forest on the northside.’

‘And how do you know that you’ll honour the agreement?’

Pushing himself back, the man pulled a small silver blade from his belt and drew it across his palm. The blood trickled down the pale silver skin, the droplet of blood where brighter than any ruby in almost look like poppy juice and it run down his hand and dripped drop by drop onto the forest floor but it had that smell of blood, of bitter copper mixed with the tangy scent of freshly forged iron.

‘I solemnly swear, that if you help me get rid of Adva, I will ensure your womb is restored to you, and the girls claim on Geralt will be void. I give this oath in honour, and if I divert from our deal, I shall be struck down.’

The man held out his bloodstain hand to hear the hum of the blood know gave out a near ear-deafening vibration as the blood thicken and turned sticky on his palm. Blood oaths where primitive magic but effective, if the oath promiser diverted from the agreement in any shape or form the magic would strike him down without mercy or thought. That is why people had stopped using it; they were too deadly, the magic took the promise very literally with often deadly consequences. Plus it left a hideous reminder to both parties in the shape of a bloodstained on the hand, a stain so deep it could never be removed, only when the oath was fulfilled was the stain washed away. A troubling thought cross Yennefer’s mind, several in fact but the most concerning thing was the deal, he made no mention of her making the same deal, to pledge herself to his cause. Instead, it was entirely on him; he asked no reassurance he was either very stupid, which she didn’t believe if he had slipped into Kaer Morhen without either of the Witchers noticing meaning he was at the very least he was intelligent enough to remain undetected. Which meant he was desperate, either running out of time or, willing to trust a stranger, to aid him in his quest for end Adva, believing her hatred for Adva would be enough to ensure loyalty.

Narrowing her eyes, she reached out her hand grimacing as she gelt the stick liquid seep into her hand. ‘How do you propose to lure her away?’

‘With this’ the man smirked and pulled out an emerald scroll.

I am so sorry! I had this chapter all planned out then my summer completely went up in flames, my lovely summer of reading and writing is now cancelled. Updates might be patchy for now as my school is trying to get ready for reopening in September and honestly no one knows what is happening and everyone is panicking. I am also trying to find somewhere to live as if and when we go back, I can’t risk taking the virus back to my family who is very vulnerable with not much luck. So as you can imagine, everything is a bit unstable, but please be sure that I am always thinking about my next chapter and nothing make me happier that people want to read my ramblings.

Thank you to everyone who said congratulation. It was so lovely.

The next chapter is planned just need to find time to write it. Stay safe!

@threepupsinapuddle @broco8 @introvertedmouse @luxyash @vikingsbifrost @pastelblogsposts @wastingmypotential @whitespring21 @ayamenimthiriel @wonderlandfandomkingdom @shesthelastjedi @fandom-lover-4 @sageandberries-png  @just-a-sad-donut @alicia-d-o @dreamerwithapen1 @evangeline73aster

[fairyscribbles]

Pomegranates and Decay (Shh, I’m just braiding your hair, TAO) [Gods!AU]

This is something I’ve been working on since November, and I’ve finally finished it! I have no idea how it got so big tbh ^^’’ I just fell in love with the greek!gods and I will be writing more with them! I hope you enjoy Hades!Tao!

Warning: Multiple mentions of a brutal killing, major character death (you), use of knives (but not in self-harm). If topics like these don’t sit with you, DO NOT READ THIS, PLEASE.

-

You couldn’t have been more confused. A few moments ago, you were walking down the street, minding your business, and then, you felt the soft sway of a boat floating down a body of water.

It felt almost surreal, as if you didn’t have a body, but when you were able to command your eyes to open, you were surprised to find the ceiling starless and dark. It made a bit more sense when your eyes caught the soft echo of water dripping down the walls.

Were you in a cave?

“Where…am I?” you murmured to yourself. You knew something was wrong when you didn’t jump in surprise at the sudden voice, being the scaredy-cat you were.

“Have you heard of the river Styx?” you turned your head to the source of the voice, and found an unnaturally tall figure shrouded in black, steering the gondola.

Of course you had heard of the river Styx. But that would mean…

“So I’m dead?” you said almost jokingly, but when the figure didn’t reply, you took the silence as an affirmative.

There was no way you could’ve been dead, right?

But then, how did you get here? And how did you get into these clothes? Gone were your jeans and pink leather jacket. You were dressed in a pure white gown, pooling all the way down to your ankles. When you ran your hands over it, it felt as if you were touching virgin snow, cool to the touch, feeling as if the dress would crumble away if you grabbed it in a fist.

The torso of the dress however, was striking red. It dripped down from your neckline to your stomach, branching out in fluid patterns that seemed almost impossible to recreate a second time.

Your feet were bare, and your skin did have an unnaturally pale hue, as if someone was left outside in the cold for too long or…

“How did I die?” by now, you weren’t surprised when the ferryman lifted a hand to point at the ceiling, and instead of flesh, you saw the striking white of a bone: nevertheless, you followed where he was pointing to, and you were met with the dramatic scene of your death. Even though the scene was created from fumes that shaped into things oddly similar to human bodies, you could immediately realize that one of the was yourself, walking.

The other hovered behind your specter before it rushed out at you, grabbing you from behind. It took mere seconds to slit your throat with the knife concealed in his jacket sleeve and you were falling, hands uselessly trying to stop the blood flowing down your neck and somehow close up the gaping hole in your throat so you could take another breath.

You watched as you took your last breath on that dirty sidewalk, while the figure loomed above you, grabbed your purse, and ran into nothingness. You watched as the fog image of yourself tried to stop the blood flowing from your open throat, when you ran your hand over the skin of your neck. You could feel the slight lumps of scar tissue.

“I’m dead.” You told to no one, and yet the gondolier still hummed in acknowledgement.

The discovery was more anticlimactic than you thought. So the pattern on your dress…

“Everyone has a different one,” the man said, as if reading your thoughts. A bony finger pointed over to the further away shore, where another woman stood. She wore the same kind of gown you did, but instead of the vivid red all over her torso, she had four pools of the size of coffee saucers on her chest, and two in her legs.

“Shooting. Tried to protect her children.” The hallowed look in her eyes told you she maybe wasn’t successful in that. But then again, your own emotions were fuddled, and you thought there wouldn’t be a scenario that would bring a tear to your eyes.

“Your emotions will come back,” the voice behind you spoke up.

“It takes a while for them to return, as your soul has departed your body.”

“That makes sense,” you replied, staring back at the woman looking longingly at the lime green river. Only now you’ve realized that it’s filled with eyeless faces, mouths opened in what could be yells or begging.

“Her children survived the attack. If they hadn’t, she would be reunited with them. Lord would make it so.”

“And where am I going?”

“To meet the Lord. You died on the anniversary of his queen’s reincarnation, and thus you will take her place by his side.”

“He chose me to be his wife?”

“Tao saw your departure that ripped you from the living. You intrigued him.”

“And what if I don’t want to be his wife?” you asked and you looked onward once the woman disappeared from sight.

“That is up to him to decide. I am taking you to him right now.”

-

The undertaker’s servant took you into the gardens. The flowers were grotesque versions of their earthly selves, their stalks a horrible shade of bleak dark green and the petals an ashen black, blood red, or plum purple. Tao was in the midst of these, tall and stoic in the black robe covering his whole body. His arms were bare, covered only by a sheen, see-through fabric that revealed the black tattoos sliding up and down the firm muscle, accentuating the possible danger they posed.

He wasn’t looking your way, his gaze on the tree in the center of the garden, his feline eyes holding an unexplainable emotion.

“She is here, my Lord,” and with that, the two unreadable orbs turned their attention to you. If you had your feelings back at that moment, you would’ve gasped, because the Lord of the Underworld was one of the most handsome men, in this world or the living. Even through his sharp features, there was an aspect of softness to them, a slight vulnerability of the dark circles under his eyes.

You expected to find a cruel and heartless Lord, but were met with a soul filled with emotions.

He stepped out towards you, reaching an arm out in invitation. When you grabbed it and moved over to him, he offered a slightly wry smile.

“I am so sorry for your loss,” he voiced his condolences silently and you almost laughed. You knew you would’ve heard this phrase sometime in your life, but you never expected to hear it in regard to yourself.

Instead of answering, because you knew you would’ve said something dumb in reply, you shook your head. You will come to mourn your passing.

“I am sure Sooman had already told you…”

“That I am to be your bride, yes?” you supplied after a longer pause from your spouse. The smile Tao offered you almost seem to rival the beauty of the garden.

“If you will have me,” Tao added to your statement, finally drawing the hand he had behind his back into view, barely able to hold the ripe pomegranate fruit that was cut open. The red pieces glittered like gems, the skin straining over the undoubtedly sweet juices inside.

“If you eat this, you agree to become my queen,” Tao told you as you stared down at the fruit.

“And if I don’t?”

“Sooman will take you further into Elysium to live out eternity with the gods.”

That did sound tempting, live out eternity with Gods. You had heard about Elysium during your life as well – the place where pain is unknown and people feast and drink. It goes without question that if you rejected this man, you would move onto eternal happiness. Nobody told you what waited for you here.

And yet as you stared at the man before you, the decision wasn’t as clear as one would think. This man with feline dangerous eyes holding nothing but soft vulnerability, arms designed to kill but yearning to hold…made you change your decision.

And without breaking eye contact, you grabbed a handful of the fruit, and brought it to your lips.

And in that moment, you could feel again.

-

The emotions that returned hit you like a sudden wave. The information about your passing has now been affected by your emotions, and you spent the majority of your time crying in your chambers, attempting to muffle your wails into the pillows.

Your body also seemed to have suffered from your death, judging by the way you seem to react to certain actions.

For example, you can’t stand the realization of someone having a chance of sneaking up behind you. You preferred to find places where you could sit with your back to the wall, and if that wasn’t possible, you turned around more often than hunted prey, making sure nobody dangerous was behind you – it did seem a bit silly, taking into account that you were already dead. This fact still didn’t change anything, and you flinched away from any touch that came from behind and you weren’t aware of it, no matter who was the source.

Not even the emperor of the dead, Tao, had the luxury of you not being affected by his touches.

When your emotions returned and you thought back on your arrangement, fear seeped into every pore of your body, uncomfortably tensing your muscles and keeping you up at night, even though it seemed a bit pointless.

Tao has been nothing but considerate in regards of your trauma, making sure never to come up behind you unannounced or breathing down your neck. What he didn’t let you do, however, is wallow in your chambers for whole eternity. He made sure that you ate enough (pomegranates seemed to be your favorite, and he made sure he had at least a bow every few days ready for you, already cleaned and washed, looking more like rubies than fruit) and that you accompany him on his daily strolls through the garden.

The walks were usually silent, the only sound being the soft footsteps of the two of you, or the occasional soft wail in the distance. Those you tried to ignore.

This time, however, the Lord of Death broke the silence.

“My lady,” he called to catch your attention, hands grasped behind his back.

“Yes, my Lord?” you answered back, already familiar with the protocol Sooman introduced you to.

With being the bride of the King of Death came royal etiquette.

“There is something that has burdened my mind for a while now…” he started off, his body angling slightly towards yours.

“Yes?” you bid him to continue, watching his thoughtful face.

“You are my bride, and yet up until now… I have not learnt the reason of your passing.” If you had any more flowing blood in your veins, it would’ve frozen at that moment. And yet you hoped that he hadn’t noticed.

You kept staring right in front of you, and Tao seemed to be doing the same.

“Are you not capable to find out yourself, my Lord?”

You could already hear Sooman’s groan at your evident breach of etiquette, but you hoped he would be able to forgive your rudeness at the moment.

“I do, but I would like to hear it from you. I…” he paused temporarily, stopping his walk as well.

“If you wish not to tell me now, I respect your decision.” He clicked his tongue in annoyance, but you couldn’t help but be surprised when you realized his annoyance was aimed at himself.

“You have just had your emotions back, of course you don’t want to discuss this…” he turned away from you, evidently disgusted by himself. If you had not known it from his body language, the low but clear “stupid Zitao” was evidence enough.

“I…” your voice stopped him. Turning, the golden orbs bore into yours, almost hanging on your response.

“I was…I was killed.” He didn’t say anything, and you still had the need to correct yourself.

“I mean, of course I was killed, I’m dead, I just…” with a deep sigh, you tried to ward away the tears that were already building up. Licking your front teeth and stepping from one foot to the other, you continued.

“By…by my boyfriend.” You didn’t look at him, so you didn’t know if this piece of information somehow resonated with your husband. If you had expected a dramatic response, you would’ve been disappointed.

“Apparently…he was low on cash, and had debts.” The tears were now freely rolling down your cheeks, but your hands, balled at your sides, didn’t rise to wipe them away.

“And he knew that…t-that I just got a…paycheck.” Your reply was now more a sob than anything else, but you felt that if you told him this, it would help you too, in the end. It was too much of a burden to carry on the too slender shoulders you had.

“What he didn’t know was, that I sent it to my friend. We were to go on vacation together.” You barked out a wet laugh, looking at your hands.

“He killed me for 10$.”

Silence rang through the garden, not even the wind dared to move to disturb the deafening roar of stillness. After a moment, which felt like eternity, soft footsteps nearing you alerted you of the presence of your husband, yet you still dared not to lift your gaze up to meet him.

“It was wrong of me to ask so soon, my lady…” his voice was low, calming your distressed soul.

“…I apologize for prying, and causing you such hurt.”

“___.” For the first time, you looked up and into those deep eyes. Right now, you caused them to have surprise flicker over.

“I’m sorry?”

“When we’re alone like this…” brushing away the tears from your cheeks, you tried to smile at him.

“I’d prefer if you called me by my name, my Lord.” Tao smiled.

“Only if you do so as well, ___.” Your name was delicately pronounced, as if uttering it in the wrong way could cause a catastrophe. You returned the smile gently, rubbing at your tears before stepping away from Tao.

“If you’d excuse me…I’d like to freshen up before our dinner.” Your husband just outstretched his arm in the direction of your chambers, and you followed it with a slight bow.

Only when you were walking away did Tao frown.

“Sooman?” he asked to the darkness, and his servant appeared as if he sat by his feet the whole time.

“Yes, my Lord?”

“I want her killer found. Find him, mess with his head. And when he is at his lowest, let me know.”

“Of course, my Lord.” Sooman disappeared as stealthily as he came, leaving the Lord of the underworld staring broodily at the trees abundant with death fruit.  

-

“___?” hearing your name ripped you from your thoughts, and your head sprang up from where your gaze was focused on the food piling on your plate. Your husband was looking at you with a small smile.

“Is the food to your liking?” immediate guilt filled your entire body. Tao must have noticed that ever since you told him of your death, your well-being seemed to fall behind once more. It was harder to find you roaming your kingdom, as you thought it was better protection to just stay in bed as much as possible.

That has not been the best choice either, as your killer found his way into your dreams as well, tearing you from sleep with terrified screams just as the knife slid across your neck…

And here he is, the Lord of Undeath, trying his best to make you feel good once more, filling the entire dining room table with a vast amount of various meals, some familiar to you from your life before, others completely foreign. Exactly in front of you were various seafood dishes, and even though they looked very appetizing, you shied away from them.

“All of this…” you tried to look for words that could capture how much you appreciated your husband’s effort, but your mind went blank. Were there even words to express your gratitude?

You hoped to show him your thankfulness by eating all of the deliciousness that was in front of you, but your stomach betrayed you. You felt so stuffed after only a few bites, that you worried that eating more could make you feel sick. And so, in fear of ruining your dinner, you stuck to lighter foods and made sure to drink enough water to balance everything out.

“I can’t even start to describe how delicious everything looks, Tao.” You finally settled for an answer, one that seemed to please your husband by the look on his face.

“I am glad to hear that, ___.” He replied, taking another bite from his own meal.

“If I could recommend, the Sea Cucumber is a meal you should try.” You appreciated your husband’s recommendation, but even the name itself stopped you from eating it. You eyed the brown sea cucumber bouncing in sauce with what you hoped was very well masked distain.

“Ah, those…” you smiled, pushing the plate slightly away from you.

“I’m sorry, I…sea food doesn’t sit that well for me. It makes me a bit sick…”

“Oh! I’m…I’m sorry, I did not know of that! If I had known…”

“Oh no, Tao! It’s not that! You like it, so of course it should be here! I mean, I should even learn how to make it, so I can make it for you someday…” your voice trailed off at the sudden domestic offer you made. After thinking about it, it sounded silly. Tao had hordes of servants answering his every whim, of course he must have chefs that were specialized making all of his favorite dishes, and here you are, some nobody, offering to make his dinner.

“I’m…sorry…” you needed to say something into the silence that settled over the dining room.

“What are you apologizing for, ___?” Tao’s low voice was soothing your anxious nerves.

“It just seemed silly…me, cooking for you, the…the God of…”

“Death?” he supplied with a grim chuckle, and if your cheeks could’ve heated with a blush, they would have.

“Well, yes! I mean, I couldn’t even cook an omelet on bad days, and you must have one of the best chefs that walked the earth cooking for you! It’s just…silly, to think…that…ah, you’d want to eat something I prepared.” Tao watched your attempt to explain yourself with a smile.

“Would it be as silly as seeing the God of Death attempt to cook for his distressed bride?” he questioned you with a slight smile, popping a piece of the sea cucumber in his mouth. At his comment, your jaws slacked in awe. Eyes flickered from the food on the table to your husband and back.

“This…you…”

“Not all of it, of course. Only the seafood.” The seafood he so ardently recommended to you, you realized with a pang, and almost frantically, you reached over to put some on your plate. As if sensing you would do that, Tao chuckled, moving the dishes from your vicinity.

“You don’t have to force yourself to eat something you do not want, my queen,” he told you with a soft smile, and if there was any more blood left in your body, you were sure it would rush to your cheeks at this moment.

“Tao, all of this…”

“Is an attempt to apologize for halting your journey to well-being.” He offered to complete the sentence for you, and he covered your hand briefly with his. The touch was electric, and all the nerve endings on the skin of your hand seemed to come alive with his brush of his fingertips over your knuckles.

“This is all very new to you, and I might have asked questions that could’ve been saved for later. My impatience brought you pain, for which I apologize. This is my way of saying I was stupid, and I hope I will never put you in such distress again.”

An emotion you have thought you would never feel in the underworld burst in your chest. The onslaught of admiration and adoration bloomed, spreading warmth over you in lulling waves, waves that brought one of the most loving smiles on your face. A loving smile you presented to your husband.

Words were useless in a situation like this, and with a soft nod of your head, you returned to your dish, a completely new feeling overcoming you and making you enjoy your meal in a way you haven’t before.

-

“Can I ask you a question?” flew from your lips before you were able to stop it, crashing the silent stroll through the kingdom’s gardens. Your husband did not seem to mind your interruption in the slightest, turning to you with a soft smile adorning his features.

“Of course you may, ___. What’s on your mind?”

As you suspected, your following question made the gentle smile slide off his face almost instantly.

“Your servant told me I died on the anniversary of your first wife’s death…” where he would usually bid you to continue, now he stayed silent. You did not let that deter you from finding out more about Tao.

“Is that true?”

Tao looked away from you, staring right ahead. There was a small crease between his eyebrows, the frown only accentuating the handsome somberness of his face. You realized you have opened a can of worms with your question, but it has been burning you from the inside for quite some time now, and you felt it was only fair to know more about your husband as well.

“It is true, ___. You have arrived here on the anniversary of her departure from here…her departure from being by my side.”

His response was fertile ground for new questions to sprout deep within you. Who was she? How did she get to the underworld? And most importantly, why did she leave?

“You must know at least something about her, ___.” Tao’s voice cut through your thoughts. You frowned slightly as you looked at him with a tilted head, confusion blooming across your features.

“Her name was Persephone, and she was the daughter of the Goddess of Harvest.”

You have heard of that myth before. Of the Lord of the Undead stealing Spring’s daughter, causing Demeter so much sorrow, no crops grew while she was with her husband.

But as you’re looking at your husband right now, you cannot imagine him stealing away someone’s daughter, much less raping her and bounding her to his kingdom. Tao seemed to sense the inner turmoil within you, as the corner of his mouth lifted upwards in a smile.

“Humans seemed to have altered the story a bit more to their liking, judging by your look. I have not stolen my bride, nor have I forced myself upon her.” He paused at a sudden realization that came to him, laughing out loud. “Actually, she more or less forced herself on me.”

Raising your brows in question, Tao continued.

“We met at a gathering. As you can imagine, being the God of Death does not make me the most sought out party guest, and so most of the time I was left on my own. I did not mind it though,” he added with a small smile as he saw your deepening frown.

“I was about to leave anyways, when she came by, curiousness in her eyes and fearless step as she neared me. She was the first person that had shown interest in the underworld for a different reason than an extremely morbid one.” He looked over to the vastness of the orchards that spread before you.

"She asked me if there is sunlight in my domain. If I could make flowers grow. Questions that I myself at that time didn’t have an answer for. When I told her just that, she pursed her lips and bowed, turning on her heel and left. And I thought that it would be our last encounter." with another chuckle, Tao looked down at his shoes, shaking his head.

"How wrong I was. It couldn’t have even been a week when Sooman came after me and told me with the biggest confusion on his face that there was some deity there to meet me. Not just somebody, it was her.

She came with arms filled with different types of seeds and a smile that made the absence of the sun redundant in a place like this. Without the slightest fear, Persephone took it upon herself to change the underworld to be as it is now, not only for the sake of ones who come here after death, but also for my sake."

"Nobody cared about me like that before." his words had you gripping his hand tight, as you bid him with a nod of your head to continue.

"Her disappearance from Earth was not ignored. Demeter has scoured every inch of it before she came to realize she forgot to check one last place. But she had been too late. By the time she arrived, the garden was not the only thing that was in full bloom. Persephone and I had married before her mother could oppose, and even through the wrath of the entire Pantheon, we were happy."

"Is this how the seasons were created?" you gently asked when Tao stopped for a moment. He looked over at you, a small smile gracing his features. However, it could not overshadow the flicker of pain that appeared in his eyes.

 "How I wish that were the case, ___. The myth version states that Demeter had been so sad about the marriage that she wept every time Persephone was with me in the underworld, causing the plants to wither and the days to get colder. The moment she would return to the living world, things would go back to normal." Tao gripped your hand tighter, the bitter smile on his face straining.

"How I wish that were true. Persephone...she..." after he cut himself off again, a great sigh left his chest.

"The living, no matter if deity or not, do not belong in the underworld, ___." you returned his tight hold at the words, your breath stuck in your throat.

"Persephone wasn’t used to this world. Wasn’t used to not hearing the birds chirping, or watching the sun rise every morning. Unable to swim in the river and pet the deer. And even if we were able to bloom the orchards that you walk through daily, it was not enough."

"And just like the world withered when Persephone was away, she herself began to wilt while she was by my side. Her skin grew paler, eyes dimmed...strength was leaving her every moment she spent in my domain. And even if she would rejuvenate back when she was with her mother, her stay with me turned from happiness into suffering, not only for her, but for me as well."

You were sure that if they could, Tao’s eyes would weld up with tears at this moment. Your heart clenched by the obvious pain your husband was going through.

"I couldn’t watch her do that to herself anymore. Even though she was stubborn and told me she wouldn’t leave my side, I couldn’t let her do this to herself, and I..."

"I banished her. I forbade her from ever stepping foot into my domain again, and I saved her life."

Everything stilled. Never before had the absence of wind and life been so evident than now. You yourself couldn’t offer a single word, and you just stared at Tao as he very evidently twisted knife he plunged into his own heart millennia ago.

"As she recovered, Persephone tried to rekindle contact with me, but I wouldn’t let her. I knew the moment I would let her speak to me again, the whole resolve of saving her would crumble and that time, the stay in hell would kill her." His hard glare was sent towards the pomegranate trees.

"After a while, she gave up, for which I was glad. I almost got a taste of my own medicine, and my own powers almost took away the one I loved the most. And from that time on, I have decided not to let anyone get so close to me as the daughter of spring did." He glanced over at you, and you could see the gradual return of something warm in his eyes. You didn’t even realize when the two of you stopped walking, only noticing when he bid you to start again.

"Do you still love her?" you blurted out the only thing that you thought of at that moment, and Tao paused in thought.

"No," he decided after a moment. "It has been ages ago, and I have not seen her since. Thinking about it now, it has been better, for the both of us in the end." He looked up at the murky darkness hanging above the two of you, a smile gracing his face.

"The daughter of spring no longer has the heart of the King of Death. But I feel as if there is someone else who might."

-

It was a few days after that fateful dinner when the safety you’ve felt in your husband’s kingdom crashed down like a ceiling, suffocating you under the rubble. The day began normally, with you eating with your husband before parting ways, Tao resuming his duties as the Lord of the underworld, and you resuming your walks around his kingdom, making yourself acquainted with the area.

You never wandered too close to the river. It was something to be expected, as the poisonous hue of green revealed only thousands of tortured souls on their way to eternal torture for the sins they have committed in their past life. Tao revealed to you that only people who have done very bad things during their living days are condemned to take the journey in the river of agony before they are deposited to the only division in Tao’s army you would hope to never meet- the demons of agony. Under their reign, these damned souls are to forever repeat meaningless tasks of immense difficulty and pain, never to be relieved from their new duty.

Understandably, these souls knew their destination, and their faces were morphed into grotesque grimaces of eternal screams, mute pleadings and evident anger, anger directed to all their actions that have brought them to this exact place. This is why none of the souls are pleasing to look at, and the first time you have peered over the edge, you were haunted with bad dreams. Growing tired of all those negative emotions taking control of your body, you made it your task to peer into the river on a daily basis, to get used to the souls that are finally being judged justly for all their crimes.

What you would have never anticipated in a million years, however, was to one day peer over the edge and find your boyfriend’s face in the mass of sinners, wide, crazed eyes peering straight into yours.

And your breathing shallowed as you scrambled away from the edge, not caring about your white silken dress being dragged across the ashen black ground. You could feel your heart being squeezed in your chest by indescribable fear, all your muscles tightened in the flight or fight response that still has not kicked into gear.

The only thing that was set into motion was your stomach, and you barely had enough time to turn your head away and empty your stomach contents all over the dark floor. It almost immediately seeped into the ground, leaving no trace behind of your sickness, only deep inside you as you visibly started to shake.

After all you’ve been through, you thought you were rid of him. After all that pain, after all that recovering, you thought you wouldn’t need to see him ever again. You entertained the only single option of seeing him again after many years of living as the queen of undeath, and by that, you would rise to meet him fearlessly, giving him only slight taste of what he put you through all those years back.

But not now. Not so soon.

And as a sob ripped through your throat, you stood on shaky legs, running to the only place you deemed safe. As you ripped open the doors to your chambers, you saw your husband pacing the room nervously, waiting for your arrival. His presence stopped you in your escape to safety, and you faced him with tears streaming down your face, pinched eyebrows and immense pain and fear in your eyes.

The second Tao saw you, he understood completely.

“He’s here.” You sobbed out as you let go of the door, stepping closer to your husband.

“I know,” he replied, nearing you.

“How do you know?” grabbing onto the arms that were reaching out for you, you couldn’t help but to grasp his forearms in a tighter grip than you should have. Your husband didn’t seem to mind.

“I brought him here.” Came the silent confession from your husband, one that had another sob rip from your body.

“Why?” was your only response, closing your eyes, unable to look at the guilt and pain pooling in Tao’s expression.

“After what he did to you…___, I couldn’t…I couldn’t let him live.” Tao grit through his teeth, his palms turning upwards to grab at your elbows, anchoring you.

“I couldn’t let him do that. I had to…” he cut himself off for a second, looking off to the side with clenched jaws.

“I wiped him off the Earth’s surface myself. Made sure he suffered more than anyone else ever has, before I took him out like the trash he is.” Slowly, giving you every opportunity to move away, his hand reached up to gently cup your face in his palm. You couldn’t help but to nuzzle into the hand of the man who just confessed to killing someone. It was as if that information wasn’t even important to you.

Tao killed. Tao killed for you.

“How…how long will he be here?” you asked after a few moments of silent breathing, trying to get yourself under control.

“He is already with the overseers. He will stay in the pits until I step away from the throne, and he is condemned to forever try to stitch his ripped up throat. His thread will break every time, and he will be forced to start again. He is condemned to relive the pain he has inflicted until I see fit.” The eyes that you’ve known to hold only softness blazed with determination and anger.

And that’s when you for the first time saw the side to Tao that was known to everyone but you. Because at that moment, it wasn’t your husband that stood before you. It was the Undertaker, the Lord of Darkness, the Bringer of Death.

The person who had done all that to protect you.

-

Your recovery from meeting your killer was a slow, yet steady one. Knowing that his place was far away from you, locked in by endless torment, you had the courage to walk outside with your husband as company.

The two of you did not near the river, however. Tao did not ask you to do so, and you both knew why you didn't want to go there.

Tao made sure you are busy enough during the day- showing you the further reaches of his realm, giving you tours of the parts in the palace you have not seen before. He even showed you the Undertakers Library, a vast room filled with countless tomes.

"Where do you think books go after they are burned, ___?" Tao asked you with a risen eyebrow and your jaw slacked in astonishment. Are all the books that were ever burned in here, you thought to yourself as you looked away from your husband and to the vastness of hidden knowledge before you. Are the books from the Tower of Babylon here? The Alexandrian Library? Th-

Your thoughts were interrupted by a snort sounding from your side, and you turned just in time to witness your husband's facade crack as he resolved into giggles.

"Please tell me you didn't believe that, wife," he managed to stutter through his giggles. The only reply he got was a punch to his shoulder.

Your next days were spent either in the library, burrowing through countless books written in forgotten languages (Tao's first kiss he'd ever given you held the gift of knowledge, and as his lips pressed against your forehead you gained the ability to comprehend languages that were not even known to the brightest of scholars) or tending to your own little sapling of a pomegranate tree that you've decided to grow.

That did not prevent your killer from returning to your dreams. Before, you dreamt of him rarely - scarce nights spread over a too long period of time to be very concerned over it, honestly. But now, there were nights when he did not flow down the river into purgatory. There were nights when he stood from his lime green grave, covered with his own blood and lust for it in his eyes as he chased you through your home and killed you on your husband's throne, fury personified as he tore you limb from limb. Other nights, he would grab at your ankle as you were to turn away from him and pull you into the murky green waters of the river Styx, where he would hold you down until your dead lungs filled with the substance, eternally drowning you without giving you the sweet release of death.

Both of these dreams had you waking up with a scream on the tip of your tongue and your husband bursting through your door, eyes bewildered and body ready to protect you from whatever harm that threatened you. He would then gather you in his arms, holding you tight and whispering apologies into your hair until you blacked out from a mixture of exhaustion and fear.

Tao knew he couldn't leave it be like this.  

 -

After one of the more severe nightmares you’ve experienced, the morning was slow. It passed by like molasses, time stretching slowly as you woke your body up, reveling in the feeling of safety your bed finally offered. Was it because of Tao’s lingering scent and the shirt he slipped over your head when yours became too soaked with tears? Even you yourself didn’t know.

What you were sure of however, was that only you and your husband were allowed into your chambers.

And you were pretty sure your husband didn’t bark.

You frowned in confusion, eyes still unwilling to open. The bark sounded again, followed by your husband’s reprimanding shush. It seemed effective, because instead of another bark a whine sounded softly from the still unknown source.

"___?" Your husbands soft voice carried through the morning lull, and you turned your head towards him, eyes still stubbornly resting closed. Instead of replying with words like a human being, you settled for a softer hum. The end of your bed dipped with a weight placed on top of it. At first you thought it was Tao sitting down, but a huff and movement that could in no way come from your husband proved you wrong.

You opened your eyes just in time to be attacked by a flurry of midnight black and fire red, three small tongues and happy paws digging into your chest. Unexpectedly, you flinched away with a forced laugh out of your throat, trying to wake up, sit up and press away the too happy bundle of joy all at the same time.

"T-Tao-! What?" When your back was finally settled against the headboard and your eyes somewhat opened, you were met with a sight that would later on become the source of a smile on your face. Your husband, sitting on the edge of your bed, looking oh so tired but oh so smitten, watching the small puppy attempt to wiggle its way from your arms so it could attack you again with dog kisses.

And the puppy itself. When you read about the hell hound, you had envisioned something so scary, it could stop the hearts of people trying to break into hell. Something so dangerous, only one bite from one head would deem fatal, not even mentioning the other two sets of scary sharp teeth. But as you looked down at the bundle of warmth in your arms, you could not find anything of the sort. The puppy whined silently when you didn’t let him come close, but it was understandable, as you saw that the red stripes that mixed in with the black were made out of molten fire, the fur moving softly in an imitation of lava. Tao must have seen your apprehension because he smiled, scooting up closer to snatch the struggling puppy from your arms, making sure you saw that he grabbed onto the red part of its fur.

"It doesn’t hurt, ___," he reassured you with a smile, settling it down back on your legs.

"But...what is he...how did you get him?"

"I thought that if you had someone to guard you while I have to tend to duties would make you feel better, especially at night. Maybe having Coal with you will make you feel protected when I cannot."

Hearing your husband’s words, you almost teared up, arms limply stretched in front of you so your new puppy could excitedly lick up your forearms before nuzzling into your lap, making sure it was comfortable enough to make a home. You have told your husband of a puppy you owned while you were alive, a rottweiler who made you feel so safe even though you were sure if there was an intruder breaking into your house, they would be only attacked by tens of pounds of excited fluff hoping to meet a new person. You told him how dogs made you feel calm.

"I’m sorry I couldn’t bring him sooner, dear," Tao started to explain himself, deciding to look down at Coal.

"I didn’t want him to part from his mother sooner than he should - Sooman told me it would be better for both of them to stay in contact until the puppy is grown enough to start eating solid food and-" his speech was cut off by you sliding into his lap and engulfing him in an embrace, face hidden in the crook of your neck, his somewhat strained behavior soothed by fingers gliding through his hair. You felt his arms hover above your body for the slightest of moments, unsure, before they gripped at your sides and pulled you closer.

"Thank you," you whispered, able to ignore the hell hound pawing at your thigh with a soft whine. Tao’s muscles visibly relaxed, and the Lord of the Undead rested his head against your shoulder. The sigh that lifted tons off his chest was audible in the silence of your bed chambers.

You wished you could tell him more, but those two simple words carried all that you felt at that moment and more. Thinking back on it, there was anyone even during your living phase so doting and caring as this man you were currently embracing, a person who is depicted everywhere as the personification of evil itself, as someone sinister you needed to watch out for.

That was not your husband. That was not your Tao, able to cover up his emotions so well but still overflowing with them. The pride in his eyes when he looks over his garden, the satisfactory smirk when you compliment the sweetness of fruits he gifts you. The pain when he must receive a soul of a young child, ripped away from life by unspeakable aggression.

"I just want you to feel safe, ___..." he murmured into the crook of your neck, plush lips gently brushing against the part of your body you thought you would never let anyone else get close to.

And even though you didn’t reply by words, you knew he understood as you hugged him a bit closer. Pressed your lips up against the crown of his head in the wordless "I feel safe when I’m with you."

-

You wished you could feel better with Coal by your side, but it seemed that even the small cindered puppy bumbling around your ankles did not lift the uncomfortable feeling of being watched and judged by many eyes in the room.

Tonight was the first official dinner in the underworld with you as Tao's bride. The realm of the underworld was wider than you had thought, and many of the spirits of former nobles flocked to Tao's palace to see the first bride the Undertaker has taken in centuries. The high noses and pinched eyebrows shown that they had high expectations.

What they did not expect in the slightest was an anxious mess as yourself, feet wobbly in the high heels, hands nervously sliding over the soft fabric of your black dress, hair itching in the elaborate hairdo done by the very nice, albeit sorrowful banshee that came to help you prepare just before the event itself.

You wanted to make a good impression. You wanted to be someone your husband could be proud of, someone who he could show off comfortably, a person who could show that the ruler can still make good decisions and therefore rule in the same manner.

It was hard to hold it up when there were so many and so disfigured people in your vicinity. Undeath did not suit many of the nobles that were present, and there was only so much you could ignore. You were quite sure your nervous smile would not fool the old baron with the unhinged jawline that made his speech incomprehensible, if the empty eye sockets that were peering up at you were capable of seeing.

What did not help at all was the fact that you overheard the critique by the countess Bathory, a beautiful yet cruel woman that eyed you with a blood-red gaze.

"Our Lord could choose whichever beauty that has walked the earth, and yet he decided for her?" It was the first reminder for you to straighten your posture and try to appease the guests once more.

It failed once dinner began and food started to be served. You were looking forward to it, as you helped Tao with creating the menu for one of the most important nights in your life after dying. You were glad that the food was being called for and the guests were bid to sit- your feet began to hurt, as you weren't used to wearing them. Letting a deep breath out and leaning down to scratch over Coal one more time, you hoped it would be only smooth sailing since there.

What you completely forgot about was the fact that waiters are quite literally ghosts, and when you saw from your right periphery a pale hand reach over you, hand filled with a plate abundant with your favorite food, your whole body seized up in a panic.

 The yell you let out physically hurt your chest, and you curled into a small ball, knees knocking up against the table and knocking over the closest wine glasses, their red substance seeping into the white sheets. The arm was almost as shocked as you were, because the plate slipped from between the phantasmal fingers, dirtying the pristinely set table. Your hands circled around your neck, protecting it from every possible attack, your scar burning under your fingertips.

And yet the sudden panic left as quick as it came, and all it left behind was the deafening quiet. The numerous judging eyes and eye sockets looking at you.

Your husbands furrowed brows and tight lips. And you couldn't take it anymore.

Standing up, you ignored as you knocked into the table one more time, bowing towards it (Sooman didn't even mention bowing to you, was it a cultural thing in the underworld?) and you rushed from the large dining hall, the clicking of your heels and the pitter-patter of your puppy trailing behind you the only sound you heard up until you got to the door.

The single word heard from the Baroness made the tears of shame overflow.

"Pathetic."

-

Tao's anger vibrated, expanded out of his chest as he tried to calm himself down. He was on edge the whole night, could feel his wife's discomfort and wished he could end it all, but tradition was tradition, and the introduction of his new bride was not only a showcase for the others but also a warning not to mess with the new addition to the palace. If he would not introduce you formally as his consort, some nobles could have gotten it in their heads that you were only a mere concubine to warm his bed before you continued to your eternal destination.

He tried to make it as painless as possible, but the most important ones were the biggest pain in the ass, as always. Ever since he heard the Baroness talk to you with a scoff in her voice and a glance she would reserve only for the lowest of the low, he knew the best way to save you was to start dinner.

What he did not anticipate was your reaction to the food being served. Maybe it was just a buildup from all the stress that you had harbored the past days. Maybe it was the unexpected waiter that spooked you. But he would not expect your reaction in any scenario.

Tao's heart clenched when he saw the pain and embarrassment in your eyes once you realized what had happened. All he wanted to do was rush over and comfort you, but everything about your posture yelled about apprehension of being near people and he already anticipated your escape to your room.

What made him explode, however, was the sneer from the Baroness as she sipped on her wine some more.

"Pathetic." she said.

Pathetic, she called his consort.

Pathetic, she called the only source of happiness Tao had had in millennia.

And the King of the Underworld exploded, dark power radiating from his body and sweeping the table clean. The tattoos on his arms started moving like snakes, coiling around in preparation of attack.

 "Out." he growled, sure that all could hear him in the silence of the hall.

"OUT, I TELL YOU!" and with another swish, he sent a surge of his power over the noble guests, disintegrating them to dust. There would be a moment in the future he might regret his literal outburst, but the only thing he cared about at that moment was to get to you and learn what happened and how he can help to make it all better.

Tao had expected to hear sobs all the way down the hall, and he was left surprised when the hallway leading to your chambers was as dead as a grave. The only sound that he could hear over the thudding heartbeat in his ears were Coal’s soft whines as he tried to get into your chambers. It seemed that the tiny puppy wasn’t quick enough to make it into the room with you. It made his approach to the door that much cautious, as he had no idea what he would encounter behind it. You and the hell hound were most of the time closely together and knowing that you were so distressed that you left him behind was a bad omen.

Taking one more deep breath, he raised his hand, knocking on the wood what he hoped could be interpreted as softly.

There was no reply, and in a moment, he knocked once more.

"___? It's me...can I come in?" Tao spoke up gently. He sighed, stepping that much closer and resting his forehead against the door when he heard your reply.

"I deeply apologize, my Lord, for causing a scene. I...I understand if you wish to return to the guests." He hasn't heard your voice like that in a very long time. The last time you sounded so...small, was when you saw your dead boyfriend in the river.

To learn that all the progress you had gone through was gone with one word made Tao's soul fill with acidic anger.

"They are all gone, ___. I sent them home." it might have been his voice, gone all too hard at the thought of the sneering, decaying baroness, but the hitch in your throat was recognizable anywhere.

"Oh...Oh. I'm...I'm so sorry I ruined dinner, my Lord..."

"Please let me come in, ___." It wasn't usual for the Undertaker, but Tao was ready to beg his way into the room to face you and make sure you were alright.

"I just want to make sure you're okay, I promise. I'll leave once my soul is sated and you wish so, but please...let me make sure you are well."

The other side of the door was silent, contemplation thick in the air. With each passing second Tao's heart was clenched by something ice cold and iron hard, until you made it go away by opening the door.

Looking at you made Tao's heart ache. The smile he came to look forward to on a daily basis, all gone, the proud posture fit for a Queen of Death shriveled into hunched shoulders fitting for prey. And your eyes. Oh, your eyes which were always so honest and open with him, suddenly guarded, as if you were still not sure about letting him in.

Scared, as if you were not sure if he would lay his hand on you in a different way than in comfort.

 "___," passed his lips brokenly, and the hands that were resting against the door fell to his sides, not daring to put any energy into them in fear of his arms surging out and grabbing you in a safe embrace.

"It's okay." were the only words that could come to his mind.

"You did nothing wrong."

Silence.

Silence, before the mask you carefully hid your face behind cracked, and you threw yourself into his arms.

Tao's arms held you tight, grip so strong one might think that you were about to be whisked away from him at any moment. One of his palms trailed upward to cup the back of your head, fingers carding through the carefully prepared curls in comfort, as you wailed into your husband's shirt.

You kept blubbering out apologies, words mumbled and almost incoherent, and Tao kept hushing you, rubbing up and down your back every time the hitch in your throat made you cough. You stood there for what seemed like hours but could have easily been seconds. The adrenaline rush and fear, paired with the relief that your husband was not going to punish you for ruining such a special night left you drained, and it was clear in the way your grip on him loosened, your head lolling over onto his shoulder.

"Are you okay, my love?" Tao whispered quietly, the pet name rolling off his tongue so naturally one might think this was the millionth time he called you so. If there was any more running blood in your veins, you would have blushed as if it's your first time hearing it, rightfully so.

"I'm...I'm so t-tired..." you were barely able to mumble out, and without any hesitation, you husband scooped you up into his arms and brought you over to your bed, laying you gently on the soft surface.

"Should I leave?" he murmured into the sleepy air, and you shook your head with furrowed brows. Your hands had just enough strength to pull at his clothes and into the haven that was your bed. Tao went apprehensively, hoping he was not crossing any boundaries that might shoot up once the two of you wake up.

"Are you sure, ___? I don't want to force you...you need your rest." he cut himself off in the middle, not knowing how to deal with the situation.

"Please, just..." you sighed, burrowing into his chest once you got him where you wanted him.

"I don't sleep well alone. Please, just stay."

Tao relaxed into the bedsheets, kicking off the shoes that were biting into his feet at this point. Curling an arm under you, he scooped you much closer to him, making sure you melded into his side and were able to rest your head on his chest.

Just as you were straying away, Tao started moving again. Having closed your eyes already and being in no mood to open them again, you voiced your dislike in the movement by groaning gently. Your husband shushed you.

"I know, I know, let me just get this one up." and with one arm, he reached over the edge of the bed and returned with a handful of sizzling puppy, who licked at your face twice, just to make sure you were okay. After that, it headed to the end of the bed, twirled around a few times before deciding about the best sleeping place, and dozing off.

It was quiet in the Hold of the Underkeeper.

-

Days passed since the cursed dinner. Tao had forced the bloody baroness back into his hold with her proud head hung in shame, as the murderer of hundreds of young girls bowed and voiced her apology. You knew deep down that it was more of a survival move than her genuine feelings, as Tao would probably have her hung by the entrance to the Keep as warning to others who would insult his wife, but the fact that she did at least that was enough. You wanted to forget the night as quickly as possible.

You also finally opened up to your husband about your chronic fear of somebody standing behind you or appearing there suddenly, without your knowledge. It wasn't the waiter's fault that it did not know of your panic, and that was the reason he escaped punishment. Instead of revenge, you wanted to focus on healing, and you hoped your husband would think the same way.

Tao agreed with you wholeheartedly. He felt bad for all the times he thought his sneaking up upon you was just playful banter of two married people, when it was genuine terror that instilled in you instead of mirth. Holding your hands so gently, he asked if you had any ideas of how to work on your fear.

The only time your whole body wasn't seizing up in fear while someone was behind you was when Tao's arms were wrapped around your waist, brining your back to rest gently against his chest. Tao back hugging you was calming instead of anxiety-inducing.

Ever since then, Tao had made it his personal mission to envelop you in his arms every time he could. In the beginning he would announce his presence, asking you for consent as he uttered "can I hug you?" in the gentlest voice he possessed, gathering you into his embrace only after you allowed him so. The hugs would last anywhere from a minute to the whole night, as the two of you shared lights strokes of the fingertips and gentle nuzzles of the tips of your noses, talking about each other's day.

Gradually, Tao did not have to ask for approval anymore. It took a while, and there were hiccups along the way, but one day, he did not need to let himself be known to you before touching you, and the gentle touch of his fingertips on your sides did not make you jump. Servants and other guests in the Hold still made you queasy and you made sure to keep your eyes on them, but unsuspecting back hugs from your husband became more dear to you each day.

-

When you first woke up and looked out of the window, you thought your eyes were deceiving you. The usual darkness of the underworld was replaced by a whiteness you only remember from the time you were alive. Could it be...?

You gently slid from your husband's arms, grateful that Tao literally slept like the dead. Groaning, he rolled over into the heat you left behind on the bed, before stilling once more. The granite floor was cold under your bare feet, but you did not care in the slightest. You walked, enchanted, to the window and could not believe your eyes.

The underworld changed completely. The darkness and sky-less above were replaced by thick clouds, moving slowly in the breezeless air. From them heavy snowflakes fell, big, fluffy and beautiful in every way, gently landing on the blighted floor and turning it into a sheet of innocence. The air was crisp and there was no sound echoing through the underworld, which meant you could hear the fall of every snowflake.

Impossible. It couldn't have been. How would the clouds find their way into the underworld?

Fingers brushed your hair back gently, making you flinch at the sudden touch.

"Shhh..." Tao's voice was still rough from sleep, the rusty feeling to his voice very welcoming.

"I'm just braiding your hair."

"Tao, this..."

"Hmm..."

"Is this normal? It didn't happen last winter, nor when I came here."

"This is not normal." Tao concluded, gently entwining the strands of your hair with one another.

"Does it mean it's bad?" his chuckle had you calming down.

"No, it's good. It's a gift, of sorts."

"A gift?" Another hum sounded from behind you.

"From the gods." When you felt that he has finished with the braid, you hoped to turn and face him, but Tao had different plans, his arms winding around your waist and brining you flush against him, his chin hooking over your shoulder. The two of you gazed out your realm and you still struggled to understand what your husband was saying.

As you two silently stood in the window, you caught a glimpse of someone walking towards the snow. Uncertain, unstable steps of someone who had never seen snow before. The child approached apprehensively, but when it realized that the snow posed no danger, it ran back from where it came from, returning with two other children, copying his actions from before. When they saw their friend gathering handfuls of snow and throwing it in the air with an airy giggle, they did not hesitate to join him in the fun.

“A new era awaits the Underworld,” Tao has finally spoken with a soft sigh, as he gently turned you to gaze upon you. Your hands reached up to cradle his face almost naturally by now.

“It does?” you asked with a smile, and your husband nodded.

“It has been a while since the Undertaker had his heart stolen.” A chuckle bubbled from your throat and you shook your head at your husband’s teasing tone. Instead of replying, you had chosen to steal something else as well, your lips pressing against Tao’s plush ones in a soft, yet deep kiss.

If anyone had told you that your life would end prematurely, and you would become the Queen of Undeath, you would’ve run from the lunatic. But now, being held in the arms of your Love, all the pain and suffering you had gone through seemed worth it.

And for the first time in eons, twinkling laughter and the feeling of love spread through the Realm of Death.

[polynymph]

What Once Was Chapter 5

Again, not supposed to be this long! I hope you enjoy!

TW: brief mentions of scars

The same dream…same dark stone road, same rust colored sand, and same green sky. This time the dark clouds seem heavier than before. However, Armyah is alone. The wind blows grit into her eyes, stinging them as she searches the vast landscape for her teacher. She squints ahead, Asra and the strange beast are too far for her to reach. She tries to call to him, but her voice is swallowed by the void. She looks harder; they’re at a standstill, side by side at a fork in the road. The many-legged creature looks longingly at Asra and turns down the eastern path, disappearing into the tempestuous sea of sand. The young man turns to the path leading west. Something in her chest tells her he is going the wrong way.

“Arsa!” she calls out, even if it’s useless, “not that way! Not again!” His head turns. Even from the great distance she can feel their eyes meet. She drives herself forward to reach out until she’s close enough to grab his hand. When he turns on her, his eyes are wide with wonder. Then, everything around them dissolves and falls away. Somehow, it’s yesterday. Armyah is sweeping up a mess of powdered bat milk wen Arsa wanders out from the back room.

“Armyah!” he exclaims excitedly, “Wait until you see what the woods had to offer today!” One by one, he unloads his bag onto the counter: mushrooms, fruit, roots, and flowers. He leans on his elbows with is fist under his chin, obviously proud of himself.

“Wow…” his apprentice muses, “this is…this is more than we need.” He frowns, that wasn’t the answer he was hoping for.

“Well, I thought it’d be better to have plenty,” he looks away, guilty, “I don’t want to leave you here with nothing to eat but pumpkin bread.” He offers her a goldberry and she graciously pops it into her mouth, but she tastes nothing. She remembers now…this was the moment before he packed his bag to go.

“I want to come with you,” she blurts out, unthinking. He spares her a pitiful smile and brings his gentle hands on either side of her face. His violet eyes bore into her.

“I know…I wish I could take you,” he replies softly, “It’s just too risky.” Of course. Wherever he goes, it’s too far, too fast, too risky for her to go, but for him it’s fine. “Next time…” he promises. It’s empty, he’ll say the same thing the next time, then the time after that. He doesn’t get it.

“I’m sick and tired of being left behind,” she shouts, prying his hands from her face, “and I’m through with you leaving all of the time. Why the secrecy? Where are you going that I can never know and never come with you?” He doesn’t dare meet her gaze. He wants to tell her…tell her that he can’t bare the thought of losing her again, that he’s guilty that he wasn’t there for her before…before…

“You’re more honest in dreams, aren’t you?” He smiles sadly, his eyes misty. Once the words left his mouth the room starts to pulse and colors shift. Of course it’s a dream. He’s already gone, and she has no idea when he’ll be back. He and the shop around him fades away into darkness and replace with blinding light. Armyah opens her eyes with a groan.

“Good morning!” a sing-songy voice fills the room. For a moment, the magician forgot where she was, but she remembers as soon as she see’s Portia she remembers. The Countess, the palace, being recruited to find a murderer no one has seen in years. “What a lovely sunrise…” the young woman muses, “Did you sleep well?” Armyah smiled and nodded, it wasn’t true. Truthfully, she feels like she was trampled by a horse. “I hope the dogs didn’t wake you last night. Something set them off, they were causing a ruckus. Sniffing around the garden of all places.” Armyah gulped, she hoped it wasn’t because of her wandering. More importantly, she hoped Faust was okay. “I was afraid we had an intruder! Wouldn’t that be exactly what we need right now?” Portia rolled her eyes sarcastically. She was so animated; the fortune-teller couldn’t help but smile. “Well, I didn’t find anything, thank the gods. The only thing I had on hand was a shovel. That could’ve gotten ugly.” The servant chuckled before waving a hand away. “Anyway, breakfast will be served shortly. I’ll let you freshen up, then we’ll head over.” She gestures over to a basin of water and a washing cloth under the window and heads toward the door. “Oh! I almost forgot!” Portia hands Armyah folded garments of pastel blue/green with accented gold. “The Countess has requested that you bring your cards with you and I have explicit orders to make sure you’re not wearing the same thing you were wearing last night.” The magician would’ve been offended but looking down she could see her clothes were dirty and disheveled. “I’ll give you some privacy. Shoes are by the door.”

The door shuts carefully behind her. Sure enough, strapped, gold heels sat intimidatingly next to where Portia exited. She considers wearing her original outfit anyways, but she doesn’t want Portia to get in trouble. She’s only known the girl half of a day, but she does like her. She disrobes and hangs her ragged garments on the changing screen. She takes the washing cloth and soaks it in the lukewarm water. Running the terrycloth over her arms and chest, then down the length of her body and over her scars.

Her scars…the tiger stripes above her breasts and on her hips and upper thighs. She isn’t sure how they got there, but she woke up three years ago with them. She’s asked Asra about them, but if he knows where they came from he doesn’t say. He refuses to talk about them if she brings them up. Shaking the melancholy thoughts from her mind, she slips on the dress. The new dress is long sleeved and falls just above her knees. The magician feels practically naked in the new outfit but clasps the gold belt around her waist regardless. The fabric is light and soft like a gentle breeze. She stands before the mirror on the wall, but far enough away so she can see the whole ensemble sans shoes. She looks ridiculous, but she’s a guest so anything to make her host happy, right? Then comes the shoes…Armyah has never worn heels. She contemplates skipping the sandals all together, but then she’d be in her regular dark flats or barefoot. She grabs the footwear and plops on the bed. She slips them on her now-clean feet and buckles them, using the bed to steady herself she takes a few practice steps. They’re not especially high, but they weren’t what she was used to. Treading carefully as to not trip she grabs her bag, peeking inside to make sure Faust isn’t hiding inside. With no snake in sight she pulls the bag over her shoulder and goes to meet Portia in the hallway.

“Ooooh! You look beautiful!” There’s sincerity in her voice that warms Armyah’s heart and boosts her confidence, albeit slightly. “The Countess has a real eye for fashion. She’ll definitely be pleased.” Portia ushered the magician down the hallway to the dining room. It’s bright and servants are bustling to and fro. The Countess is already seated at the head of the table when they enter, her finely-jeweled fingers massaging her temples. She seems to be nursing a headache.

“Good morning, Armyah, Portia,” she greeted politely, though through clenched teeth as the young woman seated herself in the same chair as last night. “I trust you slept well?” She didn’t wait for the fortune-teller to answer. “Well, I had an exceptionally miserable night. The dreams were…vivid. Enough to frighten me awake, yet I cannot remember any of them.” She inhales deeply. “Then, of course, the dogs were feeling active.”

“Coffee, milady?” Portia offered with a sympathetic smile.

“Ugh, please,” the Countess sighed desperately. Portia brings over a gleaming, golden contraption that was nestled in the far corner, brings it to the porcelain saucer in front of the Countess and pours until it’s full of the dark, rich drink. “Ah! You’ve changed!” her sour expression lightens, “Is that the ensemble I sent down?” Armyah flushed and sank into her seat at her weighted stare, willing herself to disappear. “My, my, the difference is astounding. One would hardly recognize you!” Portia offers the golden carafe and a compassionate smile; the magician’s anxiety is almost palpable. Armyah barely shakes her head and she doesn’t take her eyes off the empty plate in front of her. Suddenly, she’s not very hungry. “The fit appears correct. Those garments you came with were most unkind to you.” She feels tears prickle behind her eyes under the Countess’s shameless scrutiny, but she blinks them away. Her ladyship doesn’t notice. “…and how the sea green compliments your skin tone. Who would’ve guessed that you were so becoming underneath?”

“Breakfast is served!” Portia announced loudly as the servers brought out a lavish egg dish. From the confused look on the Countess’s face, she had never done that before. Luckily, the blue-feathered servant from last night stole the Countess’s attention with a report of some goings-on. Meanwhile, Portia pretended to fill Armyah’s glass. “You okay?” she asked reassuringly. The magician smiles slightly and nods.

“Thanks…” she whispers. The servant gave her a friendly wink.

“Anytime.” Portia goes back to doing her regular duties, leaving Armyah to push her eggs around the plate with a fork. Her eyes flicker to the painting across from her, the ruby eyes of the goat-headed character seems to be watching her.

“Well, you may tell them that they have no choice in the matter,” the Countess declared, matter-of-factly. “That will be all. Now then…Armyah.” The Countess’s voice breaks her from her thoughts. “I understand that you have your cards with you?” Cautiously, the fortune-teller pulls her bag from the floor next to her and rests it on her lap. “Splendid! Please, come closer.” The servants took her uneaten breakfast and relocated her to the Countess’s side. “First and foremost, we will be celebrating the Count’s birthday in thirteen days. Preparations are already underway, as you know. So, I must ask you to be expedient in this?” She makes catching a criminal in two weeks sound like it’s no great feat. “It is not my intention to rush you, but by the same time I will need to know whether or not you intend to cooperate with me.” Armyah frowned, was she not already “cooperating” by leaving her shop, her home, to stay at the palace and give her ladyship readings as she pleased? “Unless…you have decided to do so already?” The magician made the mistake of looking to the Countess. Her stare was relentless so Armyah did what she does best…panicked.

“Y-yes?” That was a mistake. She didn’t even have the full story about the murder or the events leading up to it. Regardless of her uncertainty in her voice the Countess smiles, satisfied with her answer.

“A wise choice. I am pleased to here it.” She places a many-ringed hand on the table near the fortune-teller. “If you serve me well, you will have my utmost gratitude and, of course, a generous reward.” Armyah perked up at the mention of the reward. She didn’t want to assume she would be compensated, but she’s relieved to hear it. “Ah, that eager face will be my undoing,” the Countess chuckled, “and yours if you don’t learn to master it.” She smiles almost proudly, “together, we will make a fine team, Armyah. Our forces combined are quite formidable: you and I, my guard, and those cards of yours.” Her garnet eyes travel to the bag still on the magician’s lap and the young woman instinctively pulls it closer to her chest. “Speaking of which…” She didn’t even have to finish, Armyah knew what she wanted. She retrieved the deck from the bottom of the bag and placed it hesitantly on the table. The Countess’s eyes flash with interest. She smiles, looking out the dining room window with a musical sigh.

“It’s a glorious morning, a new day,” she looks back to the fortune-teller, “I trust that my fortune will have changed?” She says that as if Armyah controlled the cards. Sometimes, it feels like the other way around. “Read the cards for me again, Armyah. I would like to hear what they have to share on this fortuitous day.” The magician shuffles the deck, focusing on the cards in her hands. They leave a faint tingling on her fingertips, it’s a little distracting. She places three cards from the top in front of the Countess. She chooses the one closest to Armyah on her right. The yellow eyes of the bull-like character stare back at her.

“The Emperor,” the fortune-teller reveals.

“And what does he say for me?” The Countess urged. Something wasn’t right. There was no fog, no whispers. Armyah was too anxious and overwhelmed by all the events that have transpired so quickly that she couldn’t empty her mind. She couldn’t hear the cards. She didn’t know what to do, she didn’t dare disappoint the Countess. She could do this, she knows the Emperor means to oversee your own destiny. She can try and make something up?

“You…um…” she panicked, “You have…proven your wisdom, your…intelligence and ability to rule.” She was tentative in her reading, she hoped the Countess didn’t notice. “Your lessers no longer hesitate to bow before you. Where there was doubt, you have built trust. Where there was chaos, you’ve made order…When your will is done the city will sing your praises and…celebrate as it never as before!” There was a collective fluttering of oohs and aahs from the servants watching. Their faces were radiant with delight and Portia’s hand rested on her heart. Armyah breaths a sigh of relief; she thinks she convinced everyone enough. That is, until she looks at the Countess. She’s unimpressed. She lifts the card from the table and examines it with a neutral eye.

“Well, that is all very good of him to say.” Armyah tries to blend in with the chair she is sitting in. Abruptly, the Countess stands, and the servants snap to attention. “Arymah, would you care to join me for a stroll?” She was already to the door to the hallway; the magician could tell she really didn’t have a choice. “There is something I would like to show you.” Armyah gathers her cards, clambers to her feet tripping on the heels in the meantime, and follows the Countess while hoisting her bag onto her shoulder. Portia falls in step behind them as they exited the dining room. It takes some effort for the magician to keep up with the Countess’s swift gait. Looking around, her surroundings start to look familiar. The wide, marble staircase from the night before. She finds herself searching for the hounds as they pass. They aren’t there or, perhaps, they’re curled up in the shadows out of sight.

“The dogs are having their breakfast right about now,” Portia whispers from behind her as if she was reading the magician’s mind.

“Yes,” the Countess interjected, “Portia said you seem to have a kinship with animals. Even the security eels.” She slows her stride to walk side by side with Armyah, “I find them rather enchanting as well. Though they are quite unhappy here. Their native climate is deep in the Southern, icy waters.” Armyah remembers the graceful way the creature under the bridge twisted into the mud. “Anyway…here we are.” The Countess comes to a halt before a large panel in the wall crafted from smooth wood in colors of rippling amber and carved with dizzying intricacy is a great tree. Its winding roots coil around each other all the way to the floor. Leaves and fruits are inlaid with glittering jewels, precious stones, and mother of pearl gleaming from every angle. “Portia, if you would be so kind?” the Countess commended.

“Of course,” she replied with a nod. A large key ring emerged from her pocket. There were about a dozen keys, each carved of the same wood as the panel and bearing a distinct jewel. One by one, she finds the locks in the panel with ease. With each turn, the roots of the tree start unwinding from each other. Once all the roots are untangled, the panel folds in on itself like a paper fan. The room before her causes Armyah’s breath to catch in her chest.

A library filled to its brim with books and greenery and a large stained-glass window decorated with reds and greens in the center of it all. Underneath the window was an overgrown fire place with ragged chairs resting around it, long since used and the books! Bookshelves filled to the high ceilings with tomes of all shape, size, and color. Tall, crisp volumes on mathematics beside broad leather atlases of faraway lands; each one with years, maybe lifetimes of wisdom to share. Asra has told her about places like these, but she never dreamed she would see one for herself.

“Do you read, Armyah?” the Countess asked, amused by the magician’s reaction to the desolate room. Only an absentminded nod was her reply, Armyah was still taking in the sight. “Ah, I suspected that you might.” She follows the awe-struck fortune-teller further into the room and the door closes behind Portia as she steps in behind them fidgeting with the ring of keys. “It’s a great gift, to read. Where I come from it is shared among all citizens, regardless of birth.” Armyah is barely paying attention, she wants to dive into the shelves and disappear amid the aged parchment. “Woefully uncommon here. I suppose you were taught by your master? They say the two of you are very close.” The magician turns on the Countess, brows furrowed. What was she insinuating? How close are two people to be after one wakes up in the other’s arms with no memory other than her name.

“Milady is in a teasing mood,” Portia interjected quickly. The Countess merely chuckles.

“Indeed…” she turns on her heels, “this way, if you please.” Armyah’s expression softens as she follows. “You know, Armyah…you are my guest. If you should like to return here, you need only ask.” Portia jingles the keys, smiling as if to punctuate the Countess’s point. “But for the moment, I would have your undivided attention here…” Huddled in an alcove between bookshelves, almost hidden, is a desk under a tiny window that casts a slim ray of daylight on the surface. Books, journals, and papers are scattered over it. Despite the clutter, everything is in a specific place.

“An organized mess.” Armyah’s hand flies to her temple as she winces at the stabbing pain behind her eyes at the thought. Someone told her that phrase…but she can’t remember who or in what context.

“Armyah?” Portia looks to her with concern.

“It’s nothing,” she replied, a little too quickly. Neither women pressed further.

“Armyah, do you know why Doctor Devorak came to the palace?” the Countess asked, “I suppose you would…after all, your master was here for the same purpose.” He was? If Asra was ever at the palace he never mentioned it. “To concoct a cure for the plague.” The Red Plague swept through the city like wildfire. It claimed young and old, frail and strong. There was no way to tell who would be the next to fall. Cases were very rare now. The magician can’t remember the last time she saw the telltale red in the whites of someone’s eyes. Asra had told her about it, but she only woke up toward the end of the epidemic. “As you know, the Count and I called upon the city, whoever might be of use in this quest,” the Countess explained, “Physicians, scientists, alchemists, witches…even fortune-tellers were invited to the palace in hopes that our resources may aid in their research.” She stepped around to the other side of the desk opposite Armyah, careful not to disturb anything. “Whosoever was able to find the cure, the city and the palace both would be forever in their debt. The doctor accepted our invitation…perhaps he was plotting even then.” She gave the magician a knowing smile, “as did your master, Asra.” She looks out the window, a strange shadow was cast itself across her face. Curious, Armyah leaned forward to see out the small opening. Strangely, it’s in a perfect spot to see the willow tree that hangs over the gazing pool she had used to contact Asra the night before, although accidentally. “While they toiled away in search of a cure, the palace provided everything they might need.” The Countess rested her hand atop one of the many texts gathering dust. “This very desk belonged to Doctor Devorak. I have had its contents examined laboriously, nothing of consequence has been found.” She sighed, defeated, “but with such a volume of evidence, something may yet be hiding here.” Her touch lingers on a well-won tome. “Perhaps you will have better luck than I in finding it?” She passes the fortune-teller, perfuming the air with jasmine.

“Good luck,” Portia whispers before following the Countess out of the library, the door unfolding itself behind them. Armyah is left in silence, alone with the doctor’s desk. What did they expect? She would pick up a possession of his and she would follow a trail of magic to him like a bloodhound? Now that she thinks about it, that might work. She has never used magic in that way, but she doesn’t see why it isn’t possible. She leans over the desk; a stack of books, a leather-bound folio, and a handful of scrolls tucked away in a little row of drawers. Some of the books were threadbare in their bindings while others were of rich leather and leafed with gold. She picks up and flips through a particularly well-loved tome. It appeared to be a surgical guide. However, some of the diagrams are stained with blood. Some pages were littered with cartoonish illustrations. One particular drawing of a physician using a curled tool to bleed a patient has a large, black X through it and “No!” scribbled beside it. His writing has a distinct quality of frenzy and frustration, but she admired his passion in finding a cure for the terrible disease. Closing the book, Armyah places it back on the stack where she found it and turned her attention to the scrolls. The parchment is soft, almost powdery, on her fingertips as she unfurls it. It’s written in the same hurried, fluid scrawl as she saw in the doctor’s notes. It’s almost completely undecipherable except for a dense swath of cursive: a single letter J. A signature? If it was signed at the bottom it was sure to be addressed at the top…Sure enough, a scribble at the upper corner of the page barely makes out Dear Sister. Did the doctor even have a sister? As far as anyone knew, he was a bachelor with no family to speak of. The magician is unsure what to so with this new information, but she rolls up the paper and tucks it carefully into her bag.

“Armyah?” a musical voice behind her makes her jump. The back panel parts, unfolding to reveal Portia. “I hope I didn’t startle you, but there’s something going on out by the garden.” The servant girl gestures for her to follow, “the Countess is requesting your presence at once.” Armyah pushes off the desk to follow Portia, “Did you find anything interesting?” The fortune-teller shakes her head, it wasn’t a total lie. Nothing she found was relevant for the Countess. “Well, it’ll take a while to go through everything…you can try again later.” She links her arm with Armyah’s and leads her through the panel in the wall, the mechanical sound of it closing fades behind them. “I’ve got the keys, so you can find me the next time you want to have a look!” Portia’s pace is leisurely as she walks with the magician. She talks about nothing in particular, but Armyah likes that about her. It’s easy to get lost in the animated way she tells stories. She leads the fortune-teller to the veranda over-looking the garden that seems livelier in the day. A symphony of birdsong echoes from every direction. She spots the Countess looking out over the garden, her hands held sagely behind her back.

“Forgive me for drawing you away from your investigation, Armyah,” her tone is patient, leveled, “it just so happens that I was thinking about that fortune you gave me earlier.” She turns to face the magician, her face mysteriously neutral. “Rumor would have it that I dislike fortune-tellers, but this is not entirely true…I only dislike those that profit by saying whatever they want to say or by telling their clients whatever they want to hear.” She fixes a gaze of gentle disappointment on the fortune-teller. Armyah’s heart drops into her stomach and her face flushes almost as crimson as the Countess’s eyes. “I want desperately to believe that you are neither, Armyah. But, if we are to succeed in our little venture, I must trust in your skill. That being said…” She gestures broadly to the gardens beneath her, “I have devised a test. More of a game, really. If you win, then we may move forward with our plans and I need never doubt your worth again.”

“And if I lose?” Armyah spits venomously, insulted. She hardly thought one fudged fortune was worth all this.

“If you lose you are free to go, and I shall trouble you no further.” She knew the magician was offended, but she made no mention or acknowledgment toward it. “Now then, let us summon your competitors. Portia, would you kindly call in the prey?” The girl looked confused.

“Prey?” then, realization struck her, “Oh! The outfits make sense now.” Portia goes out to the edge of the balcony, takes a deep breath, and releases an ear-piercing whistle. As Armyah moved to the balustrade to find to figures shuffling, embarrassed, dressed head to toe in fanciful costumes. One a rabbit and the other a deer.

“The game is to hide and hunt,” the Countess explained as she moved behind the magician to peer at the two participants. “Armyah, you will be the hunter and these two your prey. You need not hesitate on your behalf, they have earned their place.” She motioned to the costumed individuals and they removed their masks to reveal their faces as the two guard from the bridge the night before.

“Milady, please,” the rabbit pleaded, “this is embarrassing…”

“You are embarrassing.” She spat, “have you already forgotten how beastly you were to our guest? It’s only fitting that you should be dressed as such.” The guards drop to a humble kneel, begging forgiveness. The Countess turns to Armyah, almost as if she were waiting for her to object. She doesn’t, if it’s a game she wants, it’s a game she’ll get. “Now for the purpose of our little game. This morning, at breakfast, I found myself considering the task at hand.” She clasps her hands behind her back and paces across the veranda as she speaks. “We seek to find one man in a city of thousands. A city where gossip moves more swiftly than we possibly could. Daunting, but not impossible. Fate has already drawn him back to town for us.” Armyah notices Portia perk up in the corner of her eye. “But for what purpose and for how long? Our window of opportunity may be quite slim.” The Countess pauses to face the magician, “I came to the conclusion that we must not pursue him without knowing exactly where to look. Easier said than done, of course. The doctor’s desk may very well hold the key, but how long before we find it? And then I thought, perhaps we might use what we have in another way…” Armyah finds herself growing more and more impatient as the Countess drones on. “Perhaps we might use magic.” She pauses, gauging the magician’s reaction. The Countess continues when she doesn’t reply. “Is it not possible that something in that desk holds meaning to the doctor? An attachment that might linger to this day?” Armyah’s mind immediately goes to the Dear Sister letter in her bag. “Even a single leaf of paper may possess a tether to his soul that a magician need only follow it. If it is possible, is your magic refined enough to do it?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, “if you have never done such a thing before, worry not. You are about to do just that. Each of your prey will be trying to evade you; moving targets, as the doctor will be, and your goal is to hunt one of them down.” The Countess smiles mischievously, “one of them to whom I have given a signal leaf of paper…your Emperor card.” Armyah’s face goes hot, her eyes wide. This morning, at the reading…She took the card from the table to examine it and never gave it back. Panic flood through her veins, to lose one of Asra’s major Arcana! The magician has half a mind to demand her card back, leave and never return. No, she’ll play this little game and she’ll win.

“Now then,” she says patiently, “do you understand the instructions? It’s quite simple, just find the guard carrying your Emperor card before the day is out. So long as you can do this, I’m confident you’ll be able to lead me to the doctor’s door.” She reaches out to rest a hand on the magician’s shoulder, but she steps back with a venomous glare. The Countess doesn’t look surprised. Wordlessly, she moves to the balustrade. “You! Down There!” she addresses the guards again and they snap to attention, “run, run as if your capture were to mean your imminent death.” They both looked at each other for a moment before bolting in opposite directions. The Countess turns to Armyah, “you may start on my mark, you have until dawn.” The echoes of foot-falls almost fade completely. She nods and the magician dashes down the stairs to the gardens after the costumed guards. “Oh, and Armyah?” The Countess calls out causing the magician to pause and look to her. “I implore you not to disappoint me.” Armyah scoffs, frustrated at the situation. All this because of a reading she didn’t like? Or was this her plan all along?

If this was her plan, then why in the Gods’ name did she give the magician heels?

Let me know how I’m doing!

 Tag List: @julians-chest-hair

[shogetsus]

Stripes of Auburn, Eye of Sapphire

10. Mai

Read on Ao3 | Read on FFN |  Masterlist

Summary:  "Soooo, anytime you want to let go of my hand, I can—" She adds with a hint of sarcasm, although doesn't truly mean that, deep down.

"Don't be shy, kitten. Come on!" His bright grin breaks all possible attempts for a negative, "I promise I don't bite… unless asked for, sure thing,"

Mai snorts, shaking her head as to try hiding the amused smile in her face. Somehow and for all intents and purposes, that hurricane of a man manages to draw her in every single time, as if they're bound by invisible handcuffs or another power in the universe.

Spoiler alert! - Mitsunari and Shingen's route.  (I'm smooching and giving a golden star to the one who figures out the sort of easter egg here (?))

Mai

“Hey, settle down, you. We’re about to meet your ‘dad’, don’t be impatient,” The rowdy tiger in her arms meows longingly, refusing to stay still, making her flinch in pain as he claws on her shoulder. “Ow, ow! That hurts, boy!”

Coming to a stop, Mai first works on detaching the cub off her kimono, bringing him to her eye level and shooting a stern glare, straight into his yellowish eyes. “Alright, let’s make this straight. I want no clawing and no biting. Otherwise I’ll have to punish you and believe me, neither of us wants that. Are we clear?” As she formerly predicted, the little tiger doesn’t hold her gaze for much longer, rumbling softly and casting his eyes down to the floor, pretty much getting her warning.

“That’s a good boy,” Mai flashes a big smile and readjusts her grip on him, scratching the back of his ear as to reward that improved behavior. She gets a delighted purr in response. “Ah, you like this, don’t you? Aw, seems you do, yes you do!”

It’s a stroke of luck the ear scratching gesture appears to be generally accepted by all felines. And with the tiger quite more at ease—still squirming a little, yet at least not as desperate as he seemed to be put down after coming to a mutual understanding—by the time she reaches the northern side of Azuchi castle and Masamune’s manor comes to sight, Mai once again almost forgets why she was coming over there in the first place.

A pair of men clad in blue robes is stationed by the entrance, chatting idly. One of them, who she can only guess to be Masamune’s chief vassal, merely judging by the clothing, acknowledges her with a once over as she approaches.

“Excuse me. I’m the new chatelaine, Mai, and I’ve come on Lord Nobunaga’s orders,” It’s hard to put up a sort of business stance with a playful tiger cub in her arms, but apparently she doesn’t have to as the Date vassal bows down to the waist.

“Oh, greetings, Princess Mai. We were expecting you,” The man says with an inviting smile, stepping aside for her to pass with a respectful flourish. “Lord Masamune awaits you inside.”

“Thank you. Um, huh?”

Two rows of vassals come into view, all standing in attention and lining either side of the hallway to the main entrance. Moving forward, each pair she passes bow down in sync with her steps, looking pretty much like a royal reception… or walking into a haunted house, it’s hard to tell.

She does her best with keeping a straight face as she goes, struggling not to squirm. What’s the guy really up to? First I’m a poison tester, then a sword fighter, next an animal tamer, and now I’m treated like a princess? What the heck?

As she reaches the end of the hall, the door opens before her.

“Welcome, Mai…”

A warm and refreshing as spring voice drifts to her, the ears of the cub in her arms tilting up in recognition. As if a spell would be, Mai’s drawn inside by Masamune Date’s quite distractingly charismatic smile, finding him sitting with his legs folded before a small desk. And if she’s a Princess, there’s no doubt in her eyes he could absolutely be the charming Prince from tell-tales of old.

But he most certainly knows that, judging by the amused glint in his beautiful eye. “Looks like Shogetsu’s found a friend. He doesn’t usually let people hold him. Scratches and bites are all he does, the imprudent kit…” He mentions, appearing satisfied.

Huh, so, Shogetsu, written like “bright moon”, she guesses. Right, it takes merely one look at Masamune and she can tell he has a moon theme going. Yet even when both owner and pet are making it terribly hard for her to make a solid stand on her next reasoning, Mai knows in her heart someone at least has to.

It may as well be her. “And that’s even the more reason you can’t keep him!” Her lips purse tight, determined to stand her ground—even if the little cub may or may not already have been growing on her.

The sheer confused look in his face wasn’t entirely expected. “What? Why?”

“Because he’s a tiger! And he may be a baby now, but that won’t be for long! He knocked the wind out of me. What if he hurts or kills someone?” Stalking over to his working desk, she unceremoniously drops Shogetsu into Masamune’s lap. “Tigers aren’t pets!” She remarks with the best stern look she can manage.

However, Masamune looks all the more stunned for it and doesn’t say anything; his one gorgeous sapphire eye wide open, dangerously threatening to break her resolve just as simple as with a look. What!? You have no call to look at me that way! I haven’t held a sword to your throat or kept a lethal pet!

But then, he looks genuinely shocked. And to add up to the torture, Shogetsu joins his owner and casts his big and bright yellow eyes towards her, meowing ever so softly. “… Mraow?”

Her heart all but melts at that. Oh, fine!

Huffing in defeat, Mai pinches the bridge of her nose. “Look, as chatelaine, we can’t have any ‘imprudent kits’ on the loose.” She remarks sternly, “Just… make sure your kitten doesn’t stray,”

She’s about to turn on her heels before recalling that’s actually not everything she has to say to him. At her flourish, Masamune snaps out of his daze. “I see…”

“Well, that’s good, milord.” Even sitting cross-legged, he appears taller than life, his single eye intensely fixed on her, idly scratching Shogetsu’s cheek.

Slowly, he breaks out into another of those delightful smiles of his, the sort of one that spreads all over his face. “You surprise me again. I knew I wasn’t wrong about you!” He grins like a child after getting his birthday present, “And it’s just Masamune,”

“O… kay?”

“You scolded me before even saying hello!” A wholehearted cackle bursts out of him, his gaze full of mirth. “I like that boldness! Although… it’s not the only thing I like about you…”

Her treacherous heart comes back to life at his honeyed tone, skipping a couple of beats. “Um, okay, alright,” As hardened as Mai considers herself to be with shameless flirts such as him, a faint blush creeps up her cheeks nonetheless. “That was rude of me, I’ll admit that. So… hello, Masamune,” She remarks the informal usage of his name with a sheepish smile, “But listen, we need to—“

Completely out of the blue, Masamune snatches her wrist with fast reflexes that can only be compared with the feline currently squirming out of his lap, dragging her down next to him. That crescent smile and so vivid eye—that mysterious eyepatch—surrounds her entire line of sight. Leaning even closer, his warm breath fanning her face and a very alluring glint in his gaze, Mai’s conscious there’s no such force in the universe that would help her look away from the rapturing spell in that single eye; her brain sending her signals completely not related to work whatsoever.

“It’s alright, kitten. I won’t let you stray… again,”

Mai’s head tilts to the side just slightly as if hypnotized, feeling wrapped by an ocean of sapphire she’s almost too willing to sink and drown into. And his hand affectionately cradling hers is the precise amount of warm, a strong part of her very inclined to admit how appropriate of a time it is to start meowing.

And yet, that spell he just cast on her comes to an abrupt stop once Shogetsu prowls about, surely becoming bored and lonely, before exiting through the door she’d come in from.

Snapping her mouth shut—and for how long has she been staring at him slack-jawed!?—and shyly clearing her throat, she recovers some of her composure by attempting to give him a small piece of his own medicine.

“You say that… while your tiger just ran off again,” Mai says sultrily, conveying the same honeyed tone he used on her, playfully tugging at the black straps of his cape. “Maybe reconsider your caretaking ways. Leashing him could do, for starters,”

Masamune’s charming smile falters, yet only briefly, going wider as he can’t seem to help to laugh out loud. “I’m not the kind of man who’d turn someone against their nature. He’s free to roam where he pleases,”

That admission is certainly something she appreciates, but at the same time Masamune’s acquiescing ways can’t help but feel a tad bit problematic, at least in the long run. Or, for starters, just in that moment; as she considers about ditching the whole situation herself, yet it’s equally oh so tempting to stay right there with him, having a presumably very easy conversation.

Taking a defeated sigh, Mai opts out for spill out her concerns before anything else. “We need to talk about this morning, by the way. What the heck was all that about, honestly?”  

“Before I answer that, am I your last stop for today?” She nods, not giving it too much thought. “Perfect! That should give us enough time. Let me walk you back and I’ll tell you on the way,”

Tenderly squeezing her hand, Masamune rises to his feet, prompting her to do the same and walking her out. “Kojuro! I’m going out! You and the guys watch the place while I’m gone.” The vassal named Kojuro who’d led her in and the two rows of the other guys in the hall all answer enthusiastically in the affirmative. “And remember this will be our place for a while, so suit yourselves…” He reminds them, speaking past his shoulder as they turn on the corner.

“You don’t have to walk me anywhere, Masamune. I’m comfortable with the castle now, I can get back on my own just fine,” Mai can’t help but say, not wanting to be a bother. “Soooo, anytime you want to let go of my hand, I can—“ She adds with a hint of sarcasm, although doesn’t truly mean that, deep down.

For some reason her comment does nothing but goad Masamune on, tucking her hand in the crook of his elbow instead. “Don’t be shy, kitten. Come on!” His bright grin breaks all possible attempts for a negative, “I promise I don’t bite… unless asked for, sure thing,”

Mai snorts, shaking her head as to try hiding the amused smile in her face. Somehow and for all intents and purposes, that hurricane of a man manages to draw her in every single time, as if they’re bound by invisible handcuffs or another power in the universe.

And as he takes her through downtown Azuchi, she resorts to stop swimming against the tides for once—knowing deep in her heart it’s becoming almost impossible to stay away from the force that is Masamune Date. 

“Would you look at that sky, kitten…”

Mai follows Masamune’s eyes, both humming in appreciation at the clear sky above, a pretty much tolerable cold breeze brushing past as they stroll together throughout town. As for having already given up on her hand, still tucked in his elbow, she allows herself to enjoy their idle walk.

“By the way, I have all I need at my manor,” Masamune points out, dropping the subject entirely before it even began.

“Right. Crap, I was about to ask you that,” She mentally slaps herself—leave it to him to make her completely forget about her job, and on her first day, no less. “But wait. You knew why I was coming to see you?”

He shoots her a sideways glance, “I’m the one who told Nobunaga to give you this task in the first place…”

“Really? Huh. And why is that?”

Shrugging as if not considering it a big deal, his eye returns to their surroundings. “You looked apprehensive about the size of the castle and the people in it. Now you’ve got some faces to put to all the manors…”

Idly stroking her fingers with his free hand before going chilly from the breeze, they briefly fall into a companionable silence, leaving Mai to ponder. In truth, she did think it was a good way to spend her first day on the job.

Quite at ease with each other, her eyes wander as they stroll past a tight row of merchant stalls, displaying multiple sources of shopping—from fabrics, housing adornments, to jewelry for women. Sadly so, the latter stall seems particularly packed up for her to take a better look at, the broad back of a tall man in earthen-colored robes covering half the shiny merchandise on display.

It’s not like they were out for shopping either way. “So, let me guess. Were all those tricks a way to make sure I remember everyone?” Mai wonders, shooting Masamune a questioning look.

He cackles loudly, as free and careless as the breeze brushing past them. “Ha! No, I set those up so you wouldn’t get bored, of course!” Why, how nice of him. Mai can’t help but snort, not truly mad at the fact yet not appreciating it either. “Did you enjoy them? I wanted gifts that would make you feel welcomed,”

She tugs scornfully at his blue sleeve with her free hand. “Those weren’t ‘gifts’ per say, Masamune. They were more like pranks!”

The glare she sends his way doesn’t make him flinch in the slightest. On the contrary, his smirk turns smugger, “You could just admit you had a fun time, you know…”

“No, I really didn’t!” She rolls her eyes, huffing exaggeratedly. “But maybe Mitsuhide did, though…”

Either way, they could keep that circular argument going all day to no avail. Whatever complaints she lodged with Masamune, so far it looks like it’d run off him like water off a duck’s back. I should probably take a page out of his book. Though that reminds me of my poor sketchbook!

As they turn on another row of stalls, presumably about to make their way back to the castle, people seem to recognize him—or most precisely, the female audience.

“Look, it’s Lord Masamune!” A woman nudges her lady friend’s side, happily waving their way. “Oh, is that the beautiful Princess everyone’s talking about?”

What? They know about me already? But I’ve barely spent less than a week here!

“Aaw, they make a lovely couple!” The second woman appears to squeal in delight.

Masamune’s smirk turns into a full impish grin, tilting his head politely in greeting at the onlookers, but otherwise looking so blatantly full of himself to correct the women—his chin a little straighter, shoulders more squared, clearly appearing to show off. A couple, huh? Oh, if only they knew.

To their credit, walking arm in arm probably made it look like a couple. Romance and dating, especially the latter, must be another one of those things that’s changed drastically in 500 years. Regardless, she’s quite honestly the last person to talk about on the matter.

Well, for better or worse, at least it looks like I’ve made a friend here—if I can call him that.

Testing the waters on that tidbit, she gives Masamune a friendly nudge with her elbow. “Didn’t take you for showing off,” She says low, only for him to hear.

“I’m not hearing you complain about it, kitten…”

The so charming smile he sends her way makes her flush all in a sudden, prompting her to change the subject before making an embarrassment of herself. “So, um,” Mai coughs awkwardly, “That was a pretty short answer to my former question, by the way. It certainly didn’t require a whole walk. Why didn’t you just tell me at your place?”

Masamune quirks a curious brow, “For all that questioning, I thought I’d already answered that as well,”

“Um, no? I’m pretty sure you didn’t?”

“Oh, so, when you want to know something in your future time, you just stand there and talk about it?” He wonders, hinting some disbelief in that fact alone.

“Well, generally, yes…” Mai is inclined to admit.

He shrugs at that, also seeming inclined to accept that. “To me, action is a more reliable way to get an honest answer out of someone.” Right, that brings her back to the events of last night with the sword display. Honestly, I’d rather talk. “Also it’s a lovely day out, don’t you think? Good for exercise,”

On that, she can wholeheartedly agree with, giving him an appreciative smile before falling into another comfortable silence. On their way back to Azuchi Castle, Mai can’t help glancing at him from time to time, watching the way the midday sun takes on the best of his handsome features. Drifting onto her thoughts, she sizes up how best to handle a man like him from there on. Is he just optimistic? Sure that he knows best and can’t possibly be inconveniencing other people?

One thing’s for sure, and that’s Masamune seems to be permanently set at high speed, although it isn’t precisely a bad thing. To be fair, she should have figured that out from their horse ride on their first encounter. And yet, for how slow everything seems to work in that past time, Mai won’t deny it’s a nice change of pace.

“You’re a very different kind of man.” There’s no real judgment in her musing, merely stating out a fact.

However, Mai doesn’t realize she’d been voicing her thoughts until Masamune turns another curious brow back at her. “That’s a compliment, right?”

The subtle doubt in his voice tempts her to tease him a little for a hot second, but opts out of it a moment later. It feels somewhat rude, after all, and he did just take her out for a walk. “Just in this case, yes.”

Mai allows herself a genuine smile and he returns it with a dashing one of his own, about to approach the main gates of Azuchi Castle. All in all, Masamune Date seems to get a lot of pleasure out of life while blithely ignoring the rules and to be quite honest, she finds that admirable—if not also partially relatable.

“You haven’t slept in three days!?”

Her breakfast tray almost falls off her hands, gaping at the relaxed figure of Mitsunari Ishida like a fish out of the water. Being that involved in a book is certainly a skill, but as impressive as it is, seems it’s also dangerous.

“It’s not that unusual, and I probably won’t pass out,” The young strategist is quick to come up with an excuse, appearing fairly used to do such a thing. “Although I typically only do that when we’re busy,”

As he sets his reading glasses aside, she begins to come to the realization of what everyone was trying to warn her about. I think I understand why he walked into that pillar now…

“Those glasses look cool. I didn’t know they had been invented yet…” Mai is inclined to admit as he sets the tray between the two of them on a spare table. It would’ve been truly sad if a bookworm like Mitsunari seems to be couldn’t be able to read properly. Plus, they seem to look very nice on him, and the thin silver frames set his amethyst eyes off in a really pretty way.

“Invented… yet?” At that, her eyes go wide.

“I-I meant, um, I haven’t seen people use glasses around here, um—“ She stammers, cursing her stupid tongue inwardly. This is totally my fault for spending too much time with Masamune. Seven hells! “Soooo, just tell me, is the rice of your liking, Mitsunari?”

Hoping he’d forget about her slip, turns out he does so more easily than what she’d have expected. “I don’t know if I have a preference for any particular food,” He admits with a shrug while folding his legs and taking a seat before her on the table. “I’ve always eaten these because it’s convenient,”

Almost as if to prove a point, Mitsunari hurries through his tray of breakfast in the same way he did the other morning with Masamune’s zunda-mochi, as if the act of having a meal is an obstacle. “The sooner I finish eating, the faster I can get back to reading. The last time I ate I had dried rice too...” ‘The last time I ate?’ Why don’t I like the sound of that? “That’s it. It was the day before yesterday.”

“The day before yesterday?" Astounded, all she could do is repeat what he’d said.

“I had so many good books arrive yesterday morning that I couldn’t wait to start reading them. Luckily, that one I just finished was the last.” Mitsunari quirks a sheepish smile before wolfing down another piece of rice in a mere second.

… How are you alive?

Sure thing, her own lifestyle couldn’t be considered the healthiest in the world—not even to her modern age standards—but Mitsunari’s case sounds practically inconceivable. “That’s… that’s—“ Mai struggles to come up with real words, all but astonished. “That’s not good at all, Mitsunari. You can’t keep living that way,”

She’s not truly the type of scolding people on their preferred routines, but as far as it goes, Mai’s pretty much obliged to do so. Besides, his health is actually one of the perks of her current job.

For the matter, whatever retort he might have had, he doesn’t seem to have it at all, flashing another of his terribly endearing smiles. “I didn’t expect you to care so much about me. I’ve never met someone as thoughtful as you before, Lady Mai!”

That’s definitely not the reaction she was expecting in the first place, looking away sheepishly when his amethyst eyes twinkle happily, just like she might from looking at so bright sunlight. For reasons partially unbeknownst to her, he seems truly pleased.

And that’s not bad per say, but why is he so pleased to begin with? “I just want to see you healthy and happy, Mitsunari,” All she feels about doing with that is shrug it off a little, “Take it from me, but living this way may hurt you in the long run…”

Setting his cup of tea aside, he reaches for her hand. “Thank you for your concerns, that means so much to me,” The blinding smile in his face falters just slightly, yet he sounds genuinely grateful all the same. “And since it matters to you, I’ll put in the effort. On that, I promise,”

Mai tilts her head in partial surprise until a grateful smile of her own reaches her lips. That’s a wonderful start! Finally there’s someone willing to work with me!

It’s been scarcely a week and a half since her arrival to that detached, dangerous time in the past, but it’s thanks to Mitsunari Ishida’s sunny smile that she feels truly welcomed among the people she met there, her mood improving drastically. Getting news of Sasuke’s whereabouts would certainly make it all the better, but making another friend in the young strategist feels quite comforting as it is.

And so, while watching him finish breakfast and more at ease than in the past days, Mai settles for facing the rest of the day ahead much more positively. 

… And to her disgrace, her bright mood only lasts for so long.

Humming low in partial concern and anticipation, she stumbles upon no one else than Mitsuhide Akechi on the dim-lighted hallways, appearing to be returning to his quarters with a pile of books in his hands. “Oh, hello, Mitsuhide. Still working this late?”

Quirking up one of his mobile brows, he looks down at her, “I’m afraid some of us cannot afford a good night’s rest,” Mitsuhide excuses himself with ease, his golden eyes appearing to come alive with a gleam of curiosity, “But I could ask the same of you, dear chatelaine,”

“Well, Nobunaga has just summoned me to his tenshu…” She shrugs, hoping that to be enough detailing, not truly looking forward to being the subject of his scrutiny, of all people in the castle.

If he has any reaction whatsoever, Mitsuhide seems quite the master in hiding it. “My, my, has he already?” He just says, a very impish smirk creeping up to his elegant lips. However, he doesn’t lean her in whatever off-putting thoughts he may be having, stepping aside for her to pass. “Why, don’t let me keep you then, milady,”

Mai shoots a skeptical look at that, but the mysterious warlord is quick to be out of her hair to notice, disappearing past a corner without further ado. Determined to not let that ruin her nice mood, she pulls Mitsuhide’s vague commenting out of her mind and goes on her current matters at hand, walking the stairs up to Nobunaga’s tenshu.

Out of politeness, she knocks on the door before seeing herself in. “Excuse me,” The Lord of Azuchi Castle meets her on his working desk, barely bothering himself to acknowledge her. “I’ve been told you wanted to see me, Nobunaga,”

“Yes.” More than at ease for her personal liking, Nobunaga carefully sets his writing brush aside before meeting her eyes. “Tonight, I shall bed you.”

WHAT IN ALL HELLS AND HEAVENS!?

Tenshu: An architectural typology found in Japanese castle complexes. They are easily identifiable as the highest tower within the castle. 

[drippingwords22]

Hi! This is my first post here. I’m an amateur writer looking for constructive feedback. Hope you like this story!

Trigger warning for abuse.

Purple. The smooth pale purple petals of a newly bloomed lilac, the fragile dark purple wings of a butterfly, bright and vibrant, fluttering about. 

(The dark mottling of a newly formed bruise.)

Yellow. The hot blinding yellow of the sun, the light streaks of yellow in sunsets, blending in with oranges and pinks and reds. 

(The sickly colour of the bruise after a while.)

Purple and yellow and yellow and purple. Blending together. Vibrant and bold, royal and happy. Strong and cheerful. 

(Conceit and sickness.)

In art class, the purples forming galaxies and unicorns, vases and grapes. The yellows make  hay barrels and canaries, egg yolks and bananas. Coming together to create a rainbow, a promise. 

(You need 5 other colours to make a rainbow.)

His father was an artist. Early on he would watch, mesmerised as his father painted bold angry strokes and soft delicate ones, creating outlines and filling in holes. Splattering paint onto canvas, onto walls. Spraying it from cans as graffiti. Face etched with concentration, wrinkles lining his eyes as his thick black brows frowned. 

(Littering his skin with purple and yellow and yellow and purple. His favourite canvas to play around with.)

A covering of his art with fine dust cloths for protection, for dramatic effect. He’d reveal it on the day it came to present the piece to some rich people with a proud flourish and finally he would have his moment of glory, accepting more requests for commissions. 

(His jacket protected him from keen eyes. He would never take it off.)

And his school in its cheerful yellow glory with dark purple walls that never seemed to question why he wore jackets when it was 35 degrees outside. Unquestioning and unreliable with fake smiles that they put on when they just wanted to go home. Purple and yellow walls closing in, suffocating. 

(His father would smile and all their concerns would melt away. Such a nice man wouldn’t do anything! Now, did he have a wife?)

And little girls would come prancing by in their muslin frocks of vivid dark purple and shiny yellow sashes, so beautiful and clean with their white gleaming teeth and cheeks rubbed to rosy reds by adoring parents. 

(They surrounded him until he was cornered, trapped.)

Purple and yellow. The colour of the sweet shop’s sign across his house, lighting up to attract people. He would stare at the sign and peer into the window and look at the little purple marshmallows and yellow gumballs longingly. 

(Sweetness dissolved into acid, bitter darkness.)

The fever made his father ill with madness. Sickly and yellow, unable to clearly think things through. Hours later an ambulance came, not for the man but for the little boy who had collapsed with veins of purple and yellow across his face. Conceit, too much conceit. It still came out in the end. 

(Sirens, blood. Pain. Purple and yellow and yellow and purple.)

His galaxy breaking and slayed unicorns dead on the ground with a pool of purple blood, broken shards of the vase lying on the floor and sour grapes making his mouth pucker up. Hay barrels collapsing and the canaries in the coal mine singing their song to get you out, egg yolks splattered on the floor and blackened bananas. 

(Purple and yellow and yellow and purple. So much pain.)

[malfoydormiensnunquamtitillandus]

Granger’s Sister Final (reader x Draco Malfoy)

                         part I | part II | part III | part IV | part V | part VI

previously: 

“Please…” Harry pleaded, “just please allow us to explain when you are ready.”           You listened before putting your coat on, the letters into its pocket and walking out the door misty eyed. The whole scenery looked like a complete blur and you stumbled for a while before losing balance and crashing on your knees on the grass, crying your heart out. You cried at the thought of having been betrayed by the one person you trusted blindly, at the thought of Draco reaching out to you and thinking that you are shutting him out.

            You held the letters closer to your chest and every bit of your body hurt while you cried loudly once again. How were you supposed to feel? How were you supposed to handle or cope with it? Your shop had been closed for about a week and the phone downstairs kept ringing, but you… you were so overwhelmed by the sadness that you had started to feel as if you were fading away. You sometimes caught yourself staring at the white wall… and in those moments you ceased to exist. One particular day, the phone rang as if it had no intention to ever stop. It rang so much that the tiring sound started dragging you back into reality forcefully.

          You stood up from the bed, head feeling like it was about to burst at any moment and took shaking steps towards the door that lead downstairs when it suddenly stopped. You sought support from the door-frame and waited, but it did not ring again. You sighed the frustration away and looked over to the empty pack of pain killers on your desk groaning. The pain kept on getting stronger and just as you reached for the drawer to look for something to ease it, the phone rang again. The sound felt like a dagger being turned into the back of your head and you screamed rushing down the stairs.

“Hello, you have reached Y/N’s Flowfé, this is Y/N. How may I be of service?” You whined quietly, trying to hide and temperate the anger and pain in your voice. There was no reply, just the sound of someone breathing slowly into the phone. It sounded an awful lot like crying and it made your heart clench. “Uhm, hello?” You repeated, but this time the answer that came was the repetitive tune of an ended call.

           You sat behind the bar for a while, head rested on top of your crossed arms with the sun warming you up slowly. You looked out on the street for a while at the people walking their dogs and you contemplated getting a pet, but who were you kidding? The timing was awful. Just as the thoughts begun swiping your pain away, the phone rang again and just as you were about to pull it out of the wall, you decided to take the call instead.

“Hi…” A familiar voice rang from the other end when you finally picked up the speaker.

“Was that you just now…? Calling maniacally for the past hour?” You answered briskly.

“I just needed to make sure that you are alright.” She answered in a high pitch voice and you knew she was crying.

“I have gotten a terrible headache that you are partially responsible for…” You replied blankly, in a very plain voice.

“This is the first time I am calling.” Hermione said sweetly and you could somehow hear the chuckle on her lips. You were not mad at her anymore...

“Hermione… I think… that I might be ready to listen.” She sobbed loudly at your words, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Can I come over?” She asked shyly and you hummed a positive answer. “We will get ready.” She answered immediately, hanging up the phone.

           For the first time in a week, you found the strength to stand long enough to take a shower. You washed your bruised body – not physically, but your insides were still burning in pain. You fixed the paleness in your face with some blush and tied your hair messily before walking down into the store, wearing a white t-shirt, ripped mom-jeans and sneakers – the most comfortable clothes you could find and sat at a table, waiting.

           While pacing, you made yourself a coffee and a tea, but Hermione seemed to be running late. The sun was setting slowly, casting long shadows on the café floor with the big windows allowing the whole place to be filled by crimson light. You were resting your eyes when the bell chimed somewhere in the background, somewhere that began to feel far away.

“We’re closed.” You said loudly expecting to hear the doorbell ring again as the person made its way out. They did not. You finally looked up, an irritated expression written across your face until your eyes met a pair of glowing brown eyes. 

          She dared not speak and for the first time that week you remembered Anastasia, the little homeless girl that you used to feed. For the first time, you realized how for a week she did not have the safety of the three meals that you provided for her.

“Hi, love…” You whispered teary-eyed, walking past the counter and sitting in front of her. She smiled when you caressed her hair. “I am so sorry, darling…”

“You’ve been away.” She spoke softly, sounding worried.

“I… yeah… sort of. Are you hungry?” She smiled and shook her head animatedly.

“He took care of me.” She answered excitedly, taking a seat at a table near the window.

“Your dad?” You inquired curiously, walking towards the counter to look for a bag of cupcakes you had around.

“No… there was a man who came here last week. He was looking for you, but I told him that you were away.” She answered waiting patiently for her treat.

“What man?” You asked puzzled, placing 2 chocolate croissants in front of her before sitting across the table. She began munching on them hastily.

“He came every day… and he brought me food.” She answered, flashing an innocent smile your way. She noticed the frown you had put on as you looked blankly out the window and turned worried once more. “Sorry…” She whimpered in a high pitched voice.

“No!” You laughed carelessly, shifting your gaze towards her and smiling reassuringly. “You did nothing wrong, sweetheart. I was just pondering on who it might have been.” You explained, biting your lip.

“He had really blond hair…” She said turning serious and taking another bite. “Oh, there he is!” She exclaimed pointing out the window, your gaze following the direction that her finger indicated. Your heart stopped when your eyes finally met his, nine years later. You stood up so abruptly that you startled your companion, your whole body shivering uncontrollably. You had been waiting for that moment for the past 9 years… so how come you were not ready for it? What were you going to say… or do? You followed his silhouette as he crossed the street towards your store, breathless.

“Can I watch TV?” Anastasia’s high voice asked just like it always did.

“Yeah…” You answered absent mindedly, turning to face her, but your eyes somehow looked through her small body as she dashed upstairs. The doorbell chimed, accompanying the sound of footsteps running up the stairs.

“I am aware that this might be a bad time... ” Your head shot up at the hearing of the voice that had not left your mind for one second ever since you had gotten your memories back. There they were: the icy eyes that had haunted your every dream, the blonde hair and the same sweet voice. “I was afraid you’d closed down this place for good...” You felt that with the crying spree you had had those past days, shedding another tear would dehydrate you to the point where you would physically turn into a raisin. So you held back the tears and simply looked at him longingly.

“D...” Your mouth that had only been accustomed to making inarticulate sounds for days on end had trouble speaking and aside from that… you still had no idea about what to say.

           Despite your efforts, your eyes became watery again and his did too. He tried to be stronger and looked away for a second, rubbing his eyes like a child. You took a hesitant step to the side and moved slowly past a chair. Were you allowed to touch him? The memories were so fresh in your mind that it all seemed only days away; the feelings in your heart unchanged. But it had been years – 9 years to be more precise. What was he feeling for you?

“Would you like anything to drink?” You asked politely, unable to think of anything else to say.

“Coffee…” He mumbled sitting at the table you had just sat at. “Will you sit with me?” He asked in a whisper.

           He was sipping on his coffee while you poured yourself some wine – rosé like the vanilla sky outside. How you wished time stopped right then… allowing you to be caught up in that moment forever – and that was what it felt like, had it not been for the people passing by at a fast pace and the ticking of a clock somewhere in the distance to serve as a reminder of what was real.

           You looked at him while he looked out the window, his eyes fixed on something in the distance, neither of you speaking… both of you caught up in a silence broke only by the ticking of the clock. You felt happy and sad at the same time. Sad for all the time you had lost, for all the years and all the letters he had not received an answer too.

“Draco…” You cooed and he jumped off his chair, looking at you incredulously, as if having seen a ghost.

“How…” He whimpered dumbfounded. You looked back at him misty eyed and stood from the table. “How did you… you know me…?” You nodded and his eyes began shimmering in the soft orange light and you swore his eyes looked the setting sun reflecting in the water of a calm pond. And it all looked so vivid that you swore that if you looked hard enough, a fish might even jump out of there. He took a few steps towards you and you reached for him shyly.

           Touching him again felt electric. You caressed his arm slowly, inviting him closer to you and then slid your arm around his torso as he wrapped his around you, hugging you tightly. He kissed the top of your head lovingly, holding you closer to him and letting you listen to his heartbeat again. He had missed you and you could have not even begun to wonder what torture loving and remembering you for all those years had been. You felt it all now – the heartbreak and loneliness and you wanted to hold him tighter and tighter until all the pieces were fit back together. There was no mistaking it, nothing had changed. He lowered his hands slowly until he was not holding you anymore, but rather holding on to you.

“Y/N…” He whimpered as if having just remembered that nine years had passed since it had all been that simple. “I… did terrible things.” He spoke softly, falling at your feet and holding on to you like a child. You caressed his hair gently as a few tears you apparently still had to shed ran soundless down your cheek. You wiped them off with the palm of your hand and knelt in front of him, your cold hands holding his pale face so that now you could look into his eyes once more.

“You could tell me every terrible thing you ever did… and watch me love you anyway.” You whispered in his ear as he rested his forehead on your shoulder, trying not to cry. “I am so tired of all the things wrong with my life, Draco. And now you are here and this… is honestly the only thing that matters, because you are all I want.”  He sobbed loudly and you held him a little tighter.

“I am so broken… so messed up.” He cooed in between sobs, making you smile sadly.

“Then I want all the pieces of you.” His hands slid around your torso and held you back, as he kissed your neck softly, innocently.

“I obliviated you.” He answered, making your blood freeze, because hearing the word coming out of his mouth brought back flashbacks of the haunting dream you kept having of him.

“Obliviate.” The blonde hair, the porcelain skin and the icy eyes that made your insides stir… he was standing right in front of you. You looked deeply into his eyes and he looked desperate, lost and so broken that everything else faded into the background and the sudden urge to scream faded into a vague whisper.

“People were going to come after me…” You spoke most than not to yourself, causing him to twitch in horror. “But it is safe to know you now, is it not?”

“But a memory charm is unbreakable… so how…?” He asked looking at the ground, to ashamed to look you into the eyes, too fascinated to not ask. You looked up at the ceiling when it all finally fell into place, laughing at how ironic fate proved to be.

“You cannot erase what has already been erased.” You explained, laughing at the dark humor of your twisted life. You had nearly gone mad finding out that your sister had robbed you of your memory… had you known she had in fact saved them all.

           Then, by some kind of divine intervention, the doorbell chimed and a very pregnant Hermione walked through the door, holding Ron’s hand for support. Not physical, but emotional. You burst into tears – tears you had no idea you still had to shed – and ran to embrace your sister: an insufferable know-it-all, a person who was so right that even when she was wrong she somehow ended still doing the right thing. You hugged her so tightly and you both cried on each other’s shoulder as if the whole world had now faded somewhere far into the background.

“I am so sorry, Herminie.” You cried as she held you tighter.

           For the first time in forever, Hermione was sat across the table from Draco Malfoy with no urge to claw his eyes out of his eye-sockets. For the first time he was humble. He was ashamed and doubtful as you held his hand. He had no idea how to speak or what he was supposed to say – not even to you, let alone to them.

“I remember everything as if it happened yesterday.” Your calm voice filled the silence, making everyone shift their attention to you. “Are you lost?” You imitated Draco’s cocky voice and you finally got to hear his laugh and see his precious smile. Your hand squeezed his tighter, lovingly.

“I was not before I got lost into your eyes.” He replied, looking deeply into your eyes, allowing you to see that it was all still there; the infatuation, the… love.

“Oh my God!” Hermione laughed loudly. “You really went for it, did you not?” She asked, kicking you lightly under the table.

“It made him so uncomfortable.” You answered slightly ashamed of the cheekiness of your younger self.

“It wasn’t that I did not like it, but you had only been the third person to call me handsome: after my mother and Pansy.” He explained and you faked a gag in perfect synchronization with Hermione at the hearing of the latter mentioned name, making everyone laugh.

           As Hermione and Ron went behind the bar to unpack the food they had brought, hoping to have a family dinner and make up for the lost time, Draco placed his head on your shoulder gently and you kissed his head lovingly. It all felt days away. He looked up at you and you smiled… you were so in love with him it was surreal.

“I never stopped seeing you…” He whispered, looking worriedly towards the bar to observe if anyone else was hearing your conversation and when he made sure they weren’t, he added, giving you goose-bumps. “… into the mirror of Erised.”

           In the end, it had all come down to that: fate. It was fate that decided when it was the right time to fall… apart and finally that it was time to fall back into place, back in love. It must have been fate meeting him, you thought; you could have not explained it otherwise. Pursuing him was a choice, but falling in love with him had been beyond your control.

           It had been nine long and tiring years, for he went to sleep every night as if having been awake that whole time. He liked to lie on your chest and hold you when he slept and he spoke an awful lot in his sleep. Sometimes they were nightmares and he yelled horrifying screams, but other nights he would speak about you – the most beautiful things. And then one night, as you lied awake by his side, he sighed deeply and you caressed his hair gently, soothingly, like you always did.

“I belong to you,” he cooed, making you smile like a fool… even escape a suppressed laugh. “I’ve belonged to you since the beginning,” he added, making you frown, because it suddenly made too much sense for him to be sleep-talking. That was when you looked his way, to notice his grey eyes staring deeply into yours. “… since before I even knew I did.” You kissed him softly and cuddled closer to him.

“What’s gotten into you?” You asked, looking at his fingers playing with something and when he placed it on your finger, you finally realized what it was.

“Just some dream I had…” He answered casually, turning over and making you slap his back playfully. “Goodnight Mrs. Malfoy.” You laughed, kissing his bare back and looking back at your finger, your eyes widening suddenly.

“Wait… did you just ask me to marry you?”