#sky ruler temple

[suetravelblog]

The Temple of Dendera Egypt

Pondering the Ceiling at Dendera Temple Yesterday I visited Dendera – the Temple of Hathor, a one-hour drive from Luxor. Dendera lies along the Nile River near the small Egyptian town of Dendera. The temple was “inhabited in prehistory as an oasis on the west bank of the Nile, south of Qena”. The complex was less crowded than the tours I’ve taken in Luxor. Aerial View Dendera Temple – Viator It’s…

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#Astronomical Ceiling Hypostyle Hall Dendera #Bedouins #Birthing Temple #Chapel of Osiris Dendera #Cleopatra VII Philopator #Coptic Christian Church #Dendera Crypt #Dendera Great Vestibule #Dendera Lightbulb #Dendera Temple #Dendera Underground Crypt #Dendera Zodiac #Egyptian and Greco-Roman Period Rulers #Egyptian Goddess Hathor #Egyptian Hieroglyphs #Egyptian pharaohs. Temple of the Goddess Isis #Eye of Horus #God Bes #Hathor Egyptian Sky Goddess #Ihy Son of Horus #Isis #Luxor Egypt #Main Dendera Temple Dedicated to Hathor Egyptian Sky Goddess #Nut (Nuit) Egyptian Sky Goddess #Osiris #Ptolemy XII – Macedonian King of Egypt #Ptolemy XV Philopator Philometor Caesar (Caesarion) #Queen Cleopatra VII. Queen Cleopatra #Sanctuary of Hathor #Sanctuary of Horus

[e1dritchjackal0pe]

𝔗𝔬 𝔅𝔢 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔡 ℑ𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔅𝔢 ℭ𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔢𝔡

Summary: Because of a past refusal, the god who once fostered and protected your village has cursed the land and left it in constant darkness and bloodshed. But years after the island's condemnation he visits the priestess in her dreams, claiming that he is once again willing to take a sacrifice in exchange for the people's salvation.

You are left to grapple with your reality when that sacrifice is announced to be you.

Notes: 26k words, so . . . grab a snack? Also, this has not been proofread yet so sorry for any errors and misspellings. Banner is credited @saradika

Warnings: MDI - 18+ content! AFAB, Sacrifice AU, violence, horror elements, the reader is drugged physically for ritual purposes but it doesn't affect her in the Dreaming? illusions to death, an animal is harmed but does not die, a small teaspoon of stalker Dream (sorta), hints of possessive Dream but he's also soft. Oral (F!receiving), he's a switch, a bit of soft dom Morpheus I suppose, sex outside but there is no voyeurism involved, unprotected sex.

The memories of your mother are vague at best. Like gazing up at someone while being submerged under water. But what you could remember, quite vividly at that is the wild fables and stories of gods and heroes that she would tell you, sending you off to sleep with images of great serpents slicing through the waves of the seas or the behemoth hound snapping at the tormented souls of the underworld with its many heads. And she taught you of the nymphs of the ocean and the wood, and the great gods that cloak the skies with heavy storm clouds and bind the souls of lovers together. 

But perhaps one of the most important to your isolated village, the one who was vital to the people's survival was the deity Morpheus. Dream of the Endless, the King of Dreams and Ruler of Nightmares. The heavenly benefactor that assured you all prosperity and wealth. He was benevolent and caring, and to commemorate the god, murals were created in his image. Some portrayed him as both beast and man. With the lithe physique of a human, the textured, taloned feet of a bird and great wings pridefully expanding from his back, stretching high in a reaching arch and a head that you could not discern if it was intended to mimic a bird or insect. The protrusion from his face reminded you of the proboscis of a mosquito but it was jointed and colored like ivory like a bleached spine. 

But on occasion the paintings depict the god as a striking statuesque man, clutching a group of blood red blossoms in one hand and fragments of pale sand poured through the fingers of an opposing upturned palm. And he seems to have his wings in this form also. And they are always with feathers the color of the night sky. 

Your mother had told you that he was a kind ruler. But even kindness is not without its conditions. 

The people had spoken of an offering that must be made to the Endless to appease him, an exchange for his watchful eye and shelter. A sacrifice must be given. A human one. The thought had terrified you as a child. But the villagers - even your own parents seemed to accept the requirement without any qualms. No complaints were made from the people. It was taken as a fact of life. The same as how the sun rises in the east or how fire burns when touched. No one fought when the shrine guards came in the morning. When the dawn was but a smudge of lavender in the horizon, knocking on doors and collecting any woman who was of age regardless of it they were already wives with families and duties. 

Not even your father or mother had protested when they came to take her away to the temple. And you had latched yourself onto her hips, refusing to let go even when she assured you that this was a good thing. That it was a great compliment to be even considered for the choosing. And that if she was selected as the offering - to join the Dark God that it would bring honor not just to the village but to your house as well. But you had refused to listen, shaking your head while your tears dampened the fabric that covered her body. The hierodules had to tear you from her hips, and your father had to secure you in his arms as she left with the guards to the join the other women who had been collected from their homes. 

The next passing days for you had been melancholic and distressing to say the least but the village was a kaleidoscope of colors and festivities. And despite the joy that thrummed across the air, the world seemed to be holding its breath, waiting the day for the Choosing when the head Priestess would reveal the offered woman that Endless had deemed worthy enough to be his sacrifice. 

The ceremony had been held near dusk and a heavy quiet had fallen over the collective as you all look up to the priestess, desperate to hear which womans name she would utter. The anticipation was stifling as you all awaited who would become his bride, and your fingernails had dug into your father's hand so harshly that it must have stung, but he did not flinch or jerk away once, far too enamored with the event. And when the sister had revealed the Chosen the crowd had cheered and some gasped, but you had cried. Cried with relief and joy. 

But on that day the Priestess decided to deny the dark god of his sacrifice and that decision would mark the fall and despair of your village for years to come. 

And now you stand where your mother once did. But instead of the cover of a gentle twilight, the unforgiving heat of the sun wafts over you, engulfing you in a sweltering heat and pounds down on the crown of your skull. Voices clamor from down below, the frenzied cries of desperate people, and it has the women standing at your sides shivering like startled doe's. You could not blame them in the slightest. You too wanted to quiver and sob to expel your fear, but you could not bear to show any vulnerabilities. Not to the hungry crowd, too terrified in their own right to empathize with your distress.  

The ritual is only in a few days' time and the atmosphere that looms across the village with a heavy sort of anticipation is a conflicted sort of energy. There was an obvious air of excitement, prickling at your skin and nearly leaving you breathless but there was also the underlying thrum of . . . fear. It pained you to look out to the masses and see their jostling bodies, waiting with bated breath to hear the name of the Endless' intended. To hear if he would finally accept a sacrifice again after so many years of anguish and terror. 

They had decorated the thresholds of houses, and the columns of buildings with rich tapestries and fine wreaths just as had been done in the past. The people- your people frolic about in special fabrics- deep reds and blues to herald the Endless. Gorging themselves on the five-day long feast: the meat of boar and quail and an abundance of fruits. The flow of wine and spirits did not stop. It had only progressed if the slurred shouting and rumbunctious laughter that had reached you from behind the thick walls of the commune was any indication. Celebrating their lives. Celebrating your death. 

Despite your circumstances you had been nothing but pampered since your forced participation. Fed only the finest meals and bathed in expensive oils and perfumes.  You have been chosen by an ancient; a harsh voice hissed cruelly from the depths of your mind. The voice of the old sister. The woman who had sealed your awful fate. The one who claimed that the mind walker -the dark god himself had come to her in a dream and had spoken to her she had reiterated animatedly, sharp piercing eyes nearly rolling back in her skull from her mania. Her body had quivered from her passion and the other women that had been selected and forced into a reluctant row had nearly flinched back at the intensity of it. You all clung to each other, hands gripping the other for support. Something to tether yourselves to the ground. All of the eligible women had been wrangled up, torn from the arms of their families. Even women with husbands and children were taken away, no one was spared in the wishes of finally appeasing the god. 

You had scanned the clamoring crowd in the hopes of finding someone who would be willing to help. Someone who would disagree. Perhaps a stranger would show pity or sympathy, but you found no one. They were all hanging on to the demented rambling of the old priestess. Their silence was palatable. The crazed joyous eyes of people with hope. Hope of reprieve from the decade long curse that had tainted the village. And unfortunately, one of the maidens- one of you that stood in that horrid line was the answer to their prayers. And when you found no sympathy, you looked past the commotion and the roofs of houses to the sea in the distance and imagined yourself taking to the dark waves and escaping under the tide and froth. Emerging somewhere new and wonderful. 

Of course, there would be no freedom for you. Not when her horrid eyes strayed from the desperate crowd and pinned you in your place the air had been expelled from your lungs with a harsh gravity. The realization of your fate. 

And then as if to perpetuate her point further, to drive the knife in deeper and twist, she lifted her crooked finger up in the air and pointed. Right at you. And the other girls that were clinging to your body for support and comfort had jerked from you as if you were dirty and blemished, sobbing with cries of relief while they fled in search of their mothers and fathers in the crowd. But some of them had sank to the dust and clasped their hands together as if in prayer, kneeling at your feet like you were sanctified. 

"The Endless has found his Chosen." She crooned and the people had roared in a victorious cry.  

They took you kicking and screaming, ignoring your cries of protest while they carried you off to the Sisters commune to prepare you and the townspeople looked on, watching you feverously with a horrid sort of enthusiasm. Relief you recognized. 

You had been forced into decadent silks and decorated with jewelry that at one time you would have dreamed of wearing, but they might as well as have been hot iron with the way that they felt against your skin. Restricting, disgusting. 

They paraded you around for days, making you the pinnacle of the festival while you watched them all sink into their basest desires, influenced from alcohol and the intoxication of relief. You tried not to blame them. To see past your pain and hurt and summon some forgiveness. After all, they were only afraid. The same as you had been, the same as you are now. Fearful of the Night King and his spirits. The horrible kakodaimon hoard that serve at his command and wreak havoc should their emperor be denied of his sacrifice. Some are little more than mischievous deities, entertaining themselves with otherwise harmless pranks: Stealing shoes and tying the hair of women into knots while they sleep unaware. The stuff of tales and bedtime stories. But he has other creatures. Monstrous, evil things that steal infants from their cribs and drain bodies of their lifeblood and chew bone. 

The same horrid beings that have been tormenting the village for a decade now, arriving in the night to snatch up any poor soul who had been foolish enough to be caught outside during the dark. Many have died during the years since he's unleashed his army of terrors upon the village. The dark creatures snatching them up in their gnarled claws, as lethal as a sharpened daggers and carrying them off with the swift whisper of wings. All because he was refused. 

And now finally you sit underneath the stars again, after being forced behind barricaded doors and huddling underneath the table and hoping that the creatures wouldn't break through the door and tear themselves inside with gnashing teeth to feast upon your flesh. Clinging to the hope that you would survive until daybreak when the blessed sun would rise from the horizon and banish them away. If only for a little while. 

For the first time since you were a child you may embrace the dark and breath in the warm night air, feeling it sooth your lungs like a balm. You're as full of wonder as you are paranoia. Waiting for one of the nightmares to leap out of the shadows and steal you away. But even the weight of the silver and diamonds adorning your body and the deafening laughter of the feast couldn't tear your eyes away from the black expanse that loomed above. Stretching out like a horrible, beautiful black void that threatened to eat you alive. And you nearly felt crushed with how small - insignificant it made you feel. The unforgiving stretch of the cosmos looming above seemed to force your own mortality upon you with a harsh sort of grace. And it angered you that the dark god had stripped this sight from you for so many years. He had taken so much from you all and now they all once again chant his name as though he was a savior and not the reason for their strife and agony. Celebrating his image like he was a humble god that had not punished them and their children with beasts and terrible dreams. All because he was not given a woman who had been promised to him. 

You had never felt so bare in your life, having been forced on the plush velvet cushions of a palanquin to be carried around on the shoulders of the temple guards and displayed around the village. There was no shelter from the prying eyes of the townspeople who had watched you with the same sort of desperate hunger as a pack of starved dogs, shameless and pitiful. They had been pelting you with the vibrant blossoms of violets and dark seeds, and the abundance had begun to collect atop the cushions, and you had been tempted to sweep the offerings off the side of the vehicle but as if sensing your intentions one of the priestesses had swiftly swiveled her head to glare at you from her place beneath you. You had been tempted to defy her regardless, to hold eye contact with her as you did so, but despite your petty desire you held yourself back. 

They did eventually lower you from their shoulders and back down onto the earth, and a few women had emerged from the boisterous crowd -servants perhaps - to hand you food and drink. You had not wanted to accept it, too prideful to take what they had given you and make them believe that they had managed to placate you with a meal and wine, but eventually your stomach had won and you hesitantly abandoned your dignity. It had been too long since you had last had a decent meal, having survived off of measly scraps for too long. You had gorged yourself on the figs and fish and honey cakes, chasing it with the rich wine when you had become parched and soon your head had become light with the influence of the fermented liquid, and it allowed you to ignore the cajoling throng of people and the sisters' that observed you. 

The priestesses surrounded you like a group of statues, pillars of death. Silent and watching. Guarding. They observe when the villagers approach you, eyes glinting hauntingly like they're waiting for one of the people to lash out and attack you.  You hoped someone would and finally put you out of your misery. But instead, they all crouched down low at your feet, whispering their gratitude like you had asked for this purpose and placed bundles of red flowers on the earth to surround the palanquin. Even a child had approached you, thanking you for the salvation you offered. It had nearly broken you and tears had threatened to spill down your face. It almost disgusted you to look at them. Soft, delicate blossoms that were a harsh scarlet. Red like blood. Poppies you had realized. The flower associated with the Endless. It made you nauseous to be surrounded by his symbol. And suddenly they were not so pretty anymore and there were too many. Overflowing at your feet and pilling up so high that it felt like the people were trying to build a wall around you.  

"Why must I do this?" You gasp, feeling as though you were being crushed. The sister to your right is the one who speaks but she does not turn to look at you, instead focusing on the roaring pyre that the villagers dance around under the guide of the drums and flute. "Because it is your purpose." The answer is cold and matter of fact, sparing you no sympathy. It is a sentence that you have heard uttered one too many times in the passing days, almost as though they believed you would come to accept your circumstances if you heard it enough. You just could not understand why they would be so easily swayed to accept the god who had turned his backs on them so long ago. Abandoned them and tormented them because of his own hubris. Scorned because the head priestess before had not given him her own daughter. 

He had plagued your village for too long. Ravaging men and women and children with horrid dreams and dying crop. Except for now. Ever since the choosing ceremony, when you had been selected the gardens had blossomed seemingly overnight, overgrown with a prosperous harvest and the hunt had been successful after many moons of coming up with little more than measly rabbits. 

They would always return to his dark embrace after the horrors that you have all been forced to endure. It did not matter if he demanded one maiden or a thousand, they would spare as many women that he demanded. Even if it meant finding shelter under the punishing hand that caused all of their pain. 

But it still does not explain why he had accepted a sacrifice after so many years of silence and refusal. After turning his nose up at every attempt to reconcile and give an offering he makes his presence known now. But what had changed? Why you? Surely the god that presides over dreams and walks amongst the subconscious must know that you are no longer a chaste woman. A tainted old maid is what they would whisper about you. There was no sense to any of this. 

"But why me?" And the fragile strings of jewelry draped around your neck clink against each other, but it is an annoying sound that has your nails digging into the rich tapestried cushions. It is the one to your left that speaks now. Her voice is deceptively soft, bubbling like a gentle stream. "We do not question the Endless. " She responds. And although her voice is much more welcoming than her sister's her words are just as indifferent. " You will be our salvation. Our forgiveness. You will save us. " 

Any bit of protest had died in your throat before you could get them out. You focused on the festivities instead, watching the people chant and sing old songs. And dancers leapt around the fire, dressed in furs and leather and colorful fabrics to mimic figures from folklore and the very monsters that had massacred your village for years. Wearing masks fashioned from old hides and animal pelts, brandishing the horns taken from cattle and deer. They playfully leapt at the crowd that encircled the fire as though they were going to swipe. And some had constructed costumes to imitate the dark plumage of the raven, one of his coveted animals. 

This was twisted. A mockery of suffering and pain. Pissing on the memory of the people who had fallen victim to the dream god and his nightmares. 

How could they all forget so easily? 

You could feel the sting of anger simmering within your chest, prickling at your fingertips. It made it difficult to breath around the weight of it all. You continue to watch them all despite the rage and sorrow that it induces. The horrible way they galivant around and clap and cheer. It's disgusting and awful. Even the children. The poor children participate, lunging at the false monsters with wooden swords and some are dressed as the dark creatures themselves.  

To get some sort of reprieve you looked to the night sky, staring up at the full moon as though its goddess would hear your silent plea and save you from your fate. Whisking you from this starving mob and your doomed fate to her hidden island to frolic with the nymphs free from your crude duty.  But the glowing deity did not appear, and you were left to stare at the lonely dark void of the night while the stars winked and fluttered as though their light might dim and die. It was foolish to believe that the goddess of virtue would appear for a woman like you. 

But then you could feel it. A magnetic pull that tilted your head from its upturned position, and your eyes lower onto something gleaming with a pale light. Two shimmering pieces, shinning much like the moon hanging above.  It is a pair of eyes you come to quickly discern. Reflecting the bright glow of the pyre in a way that is decidedly not human. Those are the eyes of a beast: An owls may do that, or a wolf's or a cat. Not a human. But the face that they belong to is very much a man's. 

It is difficult to make out the features of his face past the way that the heat of the open flames warp the surrounding atmosphere and the smoke twists and coils into the open air like deadly serpents. But you can comprehend the sharp jut of high cheek bones and pale milky skin almost as though he was cut from a fine marble. His expression is not a joyous one or celebratory like the other villagers, instead it is stoic and serious. The intensity of his glare has you pinned in place. It is you; you realize. He's staring at you. 

The world suddenly feels weightless, like you're suspended in a vacuum. You had heard a story from an old hunter once. One who had miraculously survived a lightning strike and he had been shunned by many of the others for his scars. After all he must have done something to warrant the strike. He must have scorned the Lord of the Sky himself. But you had spoken to him regardless and he had told you that he had felt it before it had hit him, even though it was only for but a second. His hair had stood on end and his skin had tingled strangely before his body was flooded with a numbing white-hot heat. And you could feel that sensation prickling over you now, like the whisper of a thousand fingertips brushing you all over. It made you shiver, and you adjusted yourself in your seat in an attempt to banish the feeling, but it never faded. If anything, the steady pulses persisted and seemed to thrum with even more intensity nearly making you gasp aloud. You wanted to look away from the strange man, but you could not seem to will yourself to turn your gaze from him, and some strange part of you did not want to. He was gorgeous in a haunting sort of way, but you could not figure out why. There was an unearthly quality to his countenance, like he was he was not a man but wearing the face of one. 

It was then you noticed the color of his robes. Black. But that was not right. No one else was allowed to sport the Endless' color, no one else apart from the head priestess was allowed to wear his color, as a way to display her connection and loyalty. It was considered an extreme offence for any other person to bear a cloth in his shade. A punishable offence that would often result in public ridicule and the removal of the criminal's dominant hand. Some have even claimed that the accused may be haunted from night terrors for the crime until the passing of their natural human life. So who would be bold enough to flaunt around in public in such dark robes? 

He must be a foolish man. Or at least an arrogant one. And as though he could hear your thoughts the corner of his mouth quirks in just the faintest hint of a smile. So delicate that it could be mistaken for a trick of the light. But you could see it in his otherworldly eyes too. It looked as though that it did not suit him, but he also wore the expression beautifully. It was an odd juxtaposition, and you did not know what to make of it. He looks like no one you had never seen before but is also painfully familiar, like an old memory. 

Oddly enough no one else seems to notice his presence at all. A phenomenon that could be blamed on the alcohol and high spirits but what couldn't be wrote away by reason was the way that a drunk seemed to stumble through the strange man, causing him to vanish like a plume of smoke and the pale shimmer of his eyes was the last to fade, piercing some buried part of you before disappearing entirely and with it something clicks into place. 

The sensation that had spilled over you leaves with him, releasing you from its hold and allowing you take a deep breath that you had not known you needed. That awful wonderful stare. . . Could that have truly been the nightmare masquerading as a man? They have been known to do such a thing before. Using the guises of people and loved ones to lure vulnerable victims out for slaughter. Then another thought trickles down to the forefront and it has a cold shiver skipping down the notches of your spine. What if it had been the nightmare king himself? Come to see you, his intended bride? 

Surely you were hallucinating. It has never been mentioned before that the deity has ever made appearances before the ritual. None of the other past offerings have spoken of it. If it has happened, then none have ever cared to mention it. 

It had a troubled sinking feeling plummeting in your gut and it stayed with you throughout the night until the priestesses had collected you from your place and ushered you back to your temporary quarters where the servants prepared you for sleep. Insisting that you bathe, pouring luxuries oils into the steaming water and combing your hair before bed. They fret about like ghost. Silent and always moving so they are often little more than glimpses in your peripheral vision. They hardly speak. Only enough to offer commands that are loosely guised as suggestions or to whisper softly amongst themselves. 

They do not like you; you could easily tell. If the unabashed away that they gossip quietly while in your presence is any indication. But one of the women in particular does nothing to hide her distaste. Watching you with scorn in her eyes and a scowl on her lips. Neither of you had made any efforts to verbally communicate your hatred for the other, instead opting to passive aggressively telegraph the fact with petty gestures. Such as when she had decided to harshly pick through your hair while preparing you for the first feast. Clawing at your scalp with the teeth of the comb harshly enough to sting and throb for the entire night. The apology that she had given you was pathetically fake, contempt framed around a smile and feigned concern. She did not do it again when you had accidentally spilt hot tea across her hip when she was selecting your jewelry. 

But even now you could feel the heat of her glare against the crown of your skull and the grip that she had on your hair was harsher than necessary, but you simply did not have the energy to reprimand the action. Not after being paraded around the feast all night like a prized brood mare, sluggish under the weight of silks and pearls that decorated you. 

You feel her leaning over your shoulder before she speaks, the heat of her body irritates your skin and you find yourself tensing and trying to lean from her presence, but she is gripping your hair in a tight grip that keeps you from shifting. "You do not deserve to be touched by a god." She hisses, venom tainting her words. 

"Clearly you do not either," you snap just as harshly, gripping the sides of the basin so that you do not twist out of her hold and lash out. The other maids do not so much as glance over at the altercation, simply going on about their duties as though the both of you do not exist. "Or else you would be the one bathing in oils and dining on fruits and wine. " The hold on the back of your scalp goes slack somewhat, allowing you enough leeway to peer over your shoulder and meet the heated gray of her eyes. "How does it feel to know that your god has no desire for you?" 

She does not respond even though you can tell that she is actively biting her tongue to hold down her barbed words. It irritated you. The way they all acted as though they truly loved him. It was not affection they felt, but fear. You loathed the lying and the pretending all in the sake of appeasing the horrid god, and yet you could not find the courage to voice your opinions. It was a fruitless endeavor you knew to try and speak to these people. As tortured and hopeless as they were. And as much as you wanted to ridicule them their actions were not unfounded. You had seen firsthand what the Endless was capable of when he was denied of promises. You had watched you own mother be dragged away by venomous claws and terrible simpering fangs. There was no room for argument. At least not a sensical one. 

And so, you had remined silent for the remainder of your bath and until the servants had retired for the night, settling underneath the soft linens, but you were unable to relax. Not when you could still feel that man's eyes searing into your skin. Not from the fear of falling danger to the night terrors and horrible dreams, even though you have been quite fortunate, having not experience a single nightmare in quite some time. But that dark figures presence felt like a bad omen. An awful warning for the things to come. What if he sends his demons to come and haunt you and drag you away in the dark? What if he means to punish you? You wrack your brain to try and remember if you could have ever possibly scorned the dark god but come up empty. Granted you have never particularly harbored pleasant feelings towards the deity but not a single soul in the village has since the day that he chose to curse it, tainting it with beasts and painful dreams. Sometimes tormenting the people with dreams so intense and horrid that some have passed away in their sleep, suffering from weak hearts or fragile lungs. Other have been driven mad from the vividness and the persistence of the nightmares to the point that they have lost all sense of self and reality, some noy just taking their own lives but even the lives of others in the midst their distress and agony.

He was a dreadful god whose love was built with conditions and lies. Boasting the promise of prosperity and protection but the only thing you need protection from is him. 

An airy coo breaks you from your troubling thoughts, drawing your attention to the corner of the room where a familiar black shape trots out of the shadows, almost as though he had materialized from them. 

"What are you doing here you silly thing?" You could not hold in the short disbelieving laugh that escapes you in a huff, affection growing within your chest. You are not even sure how he could have possibly gotten inside the Sisters' commune and found your quarters, especially considering that the trek from your cottage to the village was a decent walk. He must have found an open window or slipped inside when no one was looking. You would not put the feat past him, he always seemed to be skulking about. 

You prop yourself up on your elbow to welcome the cat as he leaps onto your mattress, leaning into your hand with the tilt of his head. And you are thankful for the familiarity and the calm that washes over you at the feel of his long fur against your palm. It is a great comfort to have your companion back with again after being away from home for so long. But when your affection became too much, he slipped out from underneath your hold and retreated to the foot of your bed with a petulant flick of his tail, deciding to watch you with the piercing blue of his eyes instead. 

"Oh, my dearest apologies, " you jest, pulling your blanket up higher around your shoulder and try not to take it personally as he moves from you. "I did not mean to offend you." 

He blinks slowly, a very simple gesture but it always felt like it was done with an air of judgement. But then again, the animal always seemed to carry himself an imperious sort of way, even though he is but a cat, he manages to be rather expressive when he wants to be. 

"Have you been taking care of yourself?" You ask as though you would get an answer. You hate the thought of him being out so late with the possibility of those dreadful creatures roaming the ground and skies, ready to snatch and gouge with deadly claws. You know that he could fend for himself. He is a feral cat at best, coming and going as he pleases. Often vanishing for concerning periods of time before reappearing at your doorstep as though he had never left at all. But not even the beasts - the regular forest dwelling kind or the godly ones are the only threats that roam the dark. People could be just as awful. You honestly do not how he has managed to survive as long as he has with all the dangers lurking about. It was the same thing that you had wondered about on the first day that you saw him wandering around the tall grass that surrounded your home while you were out tending to your stubborn garden. But the second thought and the most startling was the realization that you were even looking at a cat at all. There had not been a single feline spotted on the village since the morning after the failed ritual all those years ago. All of the cats had but vanished from the island without a trace. Gone as though they had not been here at all, like they had all piled onto a boat and paddled to the mainland or a giant hand had descended from the sky and plucked them from their homes and alleyways. But now there was one there, slinking through the tall grass, a whisp of black against the dead golden reeds. 

It had you pausing from your task of searching for an unblemished vegetable that had not been tainted by worm bites or disease (which was proving to be a pointless endeavor) to watch the cat on its little journey. But despite your awe you had noticed the lethargy that seemed to slow its movements considerably. The usual feline grace that the animals typically carry themselves with was replaced by sluggish and jerky movements. The cat was all but stumbling between the tall stalks of grass. And in your worried study of the animal, you noticed a series of angry red slivers peeking through the thickness of his fur along its side. Four angry red wounds that would have been difficult for a human to endure, but for a cat you could not imagine the tole it was taking on its body to remain conscious. Especially through the pain no doubt. 

It had been entirely upon reflex to jerk up from your place on the ground, concern overshadowing your tact and making you forget that it may be a feral and undomesticated creature. And your worry did not prove to be unfounded when the cats head swung over in your direction, freezing in its walk to assess you. The both of you held a long exchange of stares and you had wondered if you should try to approach it, but then it had bolted. Lurching forward on wobbly feet and your heart had jumped in your throat, entirely frightened that he would flee to the cover of the forest and succumb to his wounds. But the cat had only made it a few paces before it was crumbling to the dirt and collapses on its side. 

You had barged through the gate of your garden leaving it to creak on its hinges while you approached the cat's body, hoping that he had not given into the trauma of the lacerations. But a glance over with your eyes confirmed that it was thankfully still breathing. You had whispered your apologies when you had noticed that he was watching you as well with a tired glassy stare, scooping him up as gently as you could and carrying him into your house to provide as much care as you could. 

The cat's body was already making efforts to build scabbing, the thick red having coagulated along the edges of its wounds. But the blood was still flowing too much for your liking, staining the linens that you had folded near the hearth for the animal to rest on. You were going to have to sew. Unfortunately, due to the infertility of the soil and the bad luck with yielding a healthy garden you had little herbs or flowers for medicine. And truthfully you did not know much of cats and which plants and medicines that should be avoided or would help him recover from his ailments, but with no one to confide in you did your best. Making sure to cleanse the slashes with fresh water before you began to stitch. Having no choice but to settle for the needle and thread that you used to make repairs on your clothing. 

"I'm afraid you aren't going to like me much after this, but I don't think we have much of a choice. " You had said, as you knelt down on the floor of your kitchen, settling in front of the animal with your thread in one hand and the needle in the other. It had peered at you from the corners of its eyes, too weak to move its head, but you had seen something flashed in its weary gaze that seemed a lot like irritation. 

You had tried to be as nimble and delicate as possible, doing to your best to focus past your anxiety to steady the mild quiver of your fingers, especially when they had become slick with blood. You tried to softly sooth the cat as gently as you could muster whenever he would jerk from pain. And thankfully you were finished before you realized, and you wrapped a strip of clean cloth around his middle to keep it clean from dirt and possible infection. 

He had laid there for several days, only moving when you had to change his dressings. And in the beginning, he had hardly eaten or drank, and you had feared for the worst. That despite your best-efforts illness had gotten ahold of him and stripped him of his appetite. But on the second day of you trying to persuade him to at least drink it seemed he had grown tired of you tapping your fingertips along the edge of the bowl or the way that you would defeatedly try to spoon-feed him water from the divot of a spoon and had lapped at the water from the edge of his linens before looking up you with a pointed glare. It took even longer to get him to eat, sharing with him pieces of rabbit that you had managed to trap. 

And since his presence in your home the beasts outside had been more active than usual, as though they could smell the blood of his wounds and had taken to clawing at your door. And on some nights, you could hear the muffled thump of footsteps skulking along your roof. They had never been so eager before. So persistent. Typically, the thing that mimics was the only one that stayed so close to your home, often screaming throughout the night like an animal. It even cried like a distressed woman or an anguished child. Sometimes it's true voice slips through the glamour.  The sound of thousands speaking in unison, of men, women and children. Stolen souls forced to speak through the maw that devoured them whole.

As terrible as it sounds a part of you has grown used to its presence. It had become routine almost, hearing the awful imitations pouring from its mouth from behind your front door. And you have spent many a night underneath the latch that you had made in the floor of your house, sleeping in burrow dug underneath the wooden planks with a dagger clutched to your chest. But when you had the cat in your home the activity seemed to increase, and you had spent every night spent underneath your floor with the cat delicately placed in the corner on his own bundle of blankets where he would lay without moving, too weak to shift or turn.

And they had returned the next night too with the number greater than the last, stalking around the perimeter of your house. Hissing and chortling in the night like a pack of demonic rabid wolves. It had been most cruel when a familiar voice had spoken from the other side of the front door, too distorted and inhuman to truly be your loved one, but similar enough to taunt you. A mockery of your father's voice begging you to let him inside. And even within your room underneath the floorboards you could still hear it. It talked for hours and spoke as both your mother and father until tears were prickling at your lash line and threatened to fall, and you had done what you could to distract yourself. Staring at the floor above you, finding shapes and faces in the patterns and shifting shades of the wood. 

It was the first time that the cat had even attempted to seek out any sort of contact. Weakly perking up from his corner and settling on the length of your legs from above your blanket and he had stared up at the floorboards above you with a startling air of intent. The voices crooned out and the rasp of talons scratched along the walls of your house. Then mercifully the voices had stopped. Seemingly all at once a peaceful hush had fallen over the atmosphere and you finally felt as though you could breathe again. The monsters had not returned that night. Or on any other night. It was as though they had vanished entirely which you knew could not be true because you could still find evidence of their existence in the forest while you hunted or washed your linens in the nearby stream. 

His health had steadily risen over the next few days. The wounds on his side had healed up nicely and he had quickly grown more restless. And he had taken to occupying himself by investigating you home and snooping around the rooms until one day he had slipped out from the front door when you were not paying attention and vanished into the tall grass. You did not heal him with the intent to keep him. A part of you assuming that he may have had a family eagerly awaiting his arrival somewhere on the island, but you could not lie to yourself that it had been nice to have company even if it was just a cat. 

You had not seen him for several weeks after that and a part of you had feared that he may have fallen to one of the beasts in the wood. And the more optimistic side of you had hoped and imagined that he had found his family. Life had returned to its monotony without him at your side and you were once again alone while attending your chores. But there had been some promise, such as the abrupt but not unwelcomed revival of your garden, which had now begun to sprout bits of life again. You had been shocked when you had seen a green hue returning to the withered remains of the mint and thyme and beginnings of a humble pods growing along your fig tree, promising the growth of fruit. And then one day he surprised you with his return, trotting from the golden meadow while you were beating a rug of the dust and grime that it had been collecting and you had smiled and greeted him like an old friend. And he would begin accompanying you as you went about your chores, always sticking by you closely and observing, even if you ventured all the way around the other side of the island to hunt for oysters and scallops, though the harvest you returned with was always slim. 

And you tried your best to name the creature, but he would not accept any of them. Not Akakikos or Thales or Arye. They were all promptly ignored when you had even tried to address him as such, and you were met with looks that could only be described as unimpressed. Of course, you could not find it in yourself to blame him. You did agree that none of them seemed to suit him all that much. But you could not call him nothing and so you had aptly christened him as 'Cat' which had been even less enthusiastically received as the others. But he would follow you everywhere despite the displeased looks that he would give you every time you addressed him as so, accompanying you when you washed your laundry in the nearby stream, and when you visit your parents' empty graves (you had never found their bodies) to tell them of your day. But he had especially surprised you whenever he would trot alongside you on your strolls down the shoreline of the ocean. It had shocked you to say the least, when Cat had wadded in the gentle waves after you, unaffected by the way that the water lapped at his paws.

A strange cat indeed. 

It struck you suddenly, the realization that you would never see your home again. As empty and cold as it could be. Forced to live on the outskirts as a pariah, assuming that you would fall to your death underneath the claws of a nightmare. Many had perished living so close to the wood, and they surely had no intention of you surviving the forest on your lonesome.  But you did and you made your vacant house your own, even with the bad blood-stained memories haunting the walls. You accepted your life alone rather early on and have even learned to love it in all of its solitude and freedoms. But they have once again bent you to their wills, selling you off like a lamb for slaughter to appease a selfish god. 

You cannot fight of the stinging lump that has risen and lodged itself in your throat. Not this time. And it burns and pushed up tears that spill down your cheeks and stain the bedding. You could not stop yourself from mourning everything. The loss of your life, the waning humanity of the townspeople, the bloody deaths of your loved ones. You tried to clamp your teeth shut to conceal your sobbing, worried that the guards posted outside of the door may hear you. And even more crippling was the sudden painful awareness that tomorrow was the night of the ritual. You had been ignoring the date, too distressed to acknowledge it. But it was coming. It was coming at there is nothing that you can do to stop it. 

There is the brush of something soft against your face, and it is not until your opening your eyes that you realize that you had even squeezed them shut. You look past the blur of your tears to see register two vivid blue irises watching you. 

Your heart ached at the sight. Torn between a flicker of affection and your unignorable grief. But you smiled regardless of your tears and stroked his chin with your fingertips. It always surprises you when he chooses to crouch down against your chest, snuggling into your body. He was not always one to seek out affection, often preferring to lie somewhere near by while watching you finish up your routine chores and tasks. His favorite spot was the window seal of your kitchen where he would perch and observe you while you would knead dough or slice the vegetables for stews. But whenever your sleep was fitful, and you would wake with a layer of cold sweat dampening your clammy skin and the anguished cries of your parents still echoing in your ears he would scurry into your bedroom if he was not already there and curl up with you as he is now until you were able to fall sleep once again. 

It troubled you to think of how he would fair for himself in your absence. You had been taking care of him for many moons now and you could only hope that in your effort to keep him from starvation that he had not grown to become too dependent of you. You could not bear the thought, that in your attempt to help and offer companionship that you had unwittingly ushered him closer to death. Would he go back to being alone after the Priestesses had sent your soul off to the nightmare god and all, but your lifeless body remained? 

Would he once again wonder aimlessly with no one to care for him? 

You could only hope that he would find someone else. 

"I'm sorry." You whispered into his soft fur and clutched him closer to you and you remained that way until your grip of time had slipped and the only thing that told you that it was still the same night was the darkness that encompassed the room, most of the candles having long since burnt out of their wicks apart from one that was little more than a pinprick of light. Even with the pull of sleep turning your limps into heavy, useless extensions and the weariness burning at your drooping eyes you could not allow yourself to fall unconscious. You were desperate to keep as much time between yourself at the ritual as possible, even though it was a fool's errand of course, as the moon was still drifting along its path in the sky and the sun was still on its way to rise over the horizon. Tomorrow would come regardless of your distress and fate. Time was cruel and it stopped for no one. But still you could not let yourself sleep even with Cat embraced in your arms, and his body thrummed with a rare bout of purring. . . It was loud. Oddly so and you opened your eyes that you were not aware that you had even shut. And when you looked down, Cat was absent from his place against your chest even though he had just been there a second ago. 

Worry broke through the exhaustion that sapped your bones and you were up in an instant, sitting up in the bed with the linens pooling around your waist while your gaze roves around the room and it does not pause until it finds a familiar shape in the darkness, watching you from a shaded corner. His eyes reflect the light from the dimming candle, and they bore into you with that pale shimmer. An unsettling chill trickles down your neck and raises the hair at your nape. The gleam of them disturbs some part of you, but you cannot place why. It is a look you recognize but it feels wrong and alien. 

Its eyes. There is something wrong with its eyes. 

"What are you doing over there?" You ask, and your voice is little more than a whisper, low from sleep and unease. But he does not so much as blink, continuing to stare steadily and the candlelight wobbles on its wick and the cats shadow flickers. It is a strange shadow, much too big for a creature so small.  

Then without any warning he shoots up from his place, trotting across the expanse of the floor and slipping from the door that had been left ajar.

Had it always been open? No

You hardly question it before you are scrambling from the bed to take after him, harshly whispering for him to come back as you pick up what little bit remains of the candle to light your way before hesitantly peek your head between the open gap of the threshold and door, scanning the hallway. But there is not a single guard in sight. The hierodules that had been stationed outside of your quarters were absent. Another peculiarity that is brushed aside when you catch the tip of Cat's tail vanishing amongst the heavy shadows that blot out the hallway and you chase after him regardless, shielding the tiny flame with your hand lest it blow out from the hasty speed of your walking. 

You are being watched you can tell, and your mind distantly supplies that it must be the murals observing you. The painted eyes of the old priestesses and spirits that adorn the walls in robes and vines made from strokes of scarlet and hunter and cerulean. But you could not let yourself look to their judgmental and buoyant faces. 

"Come here!" You hiss lowly through gritted teeth and cast a wary glance across your shoulder to briefly study the black void behind you, hoping that there is nothing lurking within it. 

And you walk for what felt like forever, chasing after the cats wavering tail that turns around twisting halls that do not seem to end, never catching up no matter how quickly you shift your pace. And it is not until you come across another bend in the corridor that the suffocating walls finally seem to open up into a massive room of dust and stones, and the light from the candle casts a glow across the space that was much too abundant considering the modest size of the flame. But he is nowhere to be seen, almost as though he has vanished from thin air. 

The air is damp here, clinging to your skin like the spray of the ocean's waves but much less pleasant. It is much more akin to the sweat that covers you when under the influence of a sickness, you decide. And the aged earthy aroma that permeates the air is even more troubling. Musty and cloying like rancid grapes. It has your nose wrinkling, and you suppress the urge to gag while you investigate the room. It takes a moment for you to make sense of what you are seeing, making out the details of the great room from underneath the oily yellow glow of the candlelight. 

There are large rectangular divots that had been crudely chiseled or dug into the stone near the base of the floor and the many burrows line above each other and descend up along the wall and towards the high tenebrous ceiling. But nestled delicately within each one is some sort of lump, gently wrapped in a rich red clothe. 

That nasty sense of unease washed over you again, prickling at your skin and your heart skips a beat at the sudden burst of fear. But there is curiosity too. It emerges from the recesses of your mind and seems to take a hold of your body, nudging you towards one of the burrows, and with each step you forget why you are even here. The search for your wayward cat completely discarded. Your focus is completely arrested one the form hidden underneath the vibrant silks, and that apprehensive part of you dislike how large the hidden shape seems. 

You mouth has gone dry and your tongue sticks uselessly to the roof of your mouth and a part of you wonders if you would be able scream should you need to. You feel helplessly trapped within your body, like a reluctant passenger, once again forced to be paraded around in a vessel that you did not want to sit upon. And all you could do was watch and feel as your shaky had rose over the red silhouette. You felt the silk underneath your fingertips, too soft and too smooth. Like water. Like blood.  And your mind ceaselessly chants no, no, no even as your body refuses to yield to its commands and your fingers pinch the cloth in a hold and pull it back from the shape. And the blood in your veins seems to freeze despite the way that it races, and the pit of your stomach drops like a stone. 

You want to look away, but your head is locked in place and every muscle has coiled inside of your body tightly. You are paralyzed and pinned where you stand, forced to stare down at the gaunt remains. The sunken eyes and withered, leathered skin pulled taught around its bones like the skeleton is trying to break free from its own body. And brittle hairs still collect around the skull, that once probably shimmered yellow like the rays of the sun but was no lackluster and dry, frayed in its braids. Pinned in place underneath the wring of a ceremonial crown. Vine leaves and olive branches that is embellished with the bright blossoms of poppies. The crown you would be forced to wear tomorrow to symbolize your union with the Endless.  

A shaky exhale rattles out, a dry rasping sound that you would have easily blamed on yourself and the fear squeezing your body in a harsh grip if not for the way that you see the mummified bride's chest quiver unsteadily. She is still alive with her body forced into some sort of permanent sleep. You cannot help but wonder how long she has been held captive here. A hostage in this awful, animated state. And all of these other shapes swaddled in red silks are other sacrifices. And they too are all still awake you realize once you hear the dry whispers of their breath echo across the chamber. 

You want to scream. You can feel it rising and clawing at your throat, but it never escapes, balling up harshly in your chest and just sitting there. But whatever spell had been casted over you finally slips and you stumble back from the burrow and the mummified bride, and your knees shake and give, and you fall onto the chilled floor, dropping the tiny candlestick on your decent. Your knees scrape the rough granite, erupting with streaks of red but you can't be bothered to care, too focused on crawling away from the looming walls, towards the center of the room while your eyes search from the entrance, but it is nowhere to be found. You spin on your knees ignoring the sting, expecting to find the threshold, but all you see are the cold painted walls, adorned with stars and poppy fields and strange beasts with wings and horns and some have the faces of men and the bodies of beasts. But even worse are the open tombs carved into the walls, and they suddenly seem like gapping, hungry mouths and the red silks that adorn the bodies seem more like lashing tongues. 

The candle flickers unsteadily, melted wax pouring around the weak flame, threatening to drown it and douse you in darkness. You make to crawl towards it before it before it can be snuffed out, but your stopped short by a pair of gleaming eyes watching you. The dark fur tells you who it is but your gut lurches at the sight of the cat. And some buried instinct tells you that something is not right. 

The eyes you realize, are tinged with a faint scarlet around the edges, staining the pale silver glow. And it was wrong. That was not the right color. This was not your cat. How did you not notice before?

It was an imposter. The face too narrow, its shadow too big. Too sharp. 

Your heart flutters like a startled bird and your breath seizes in your lungs when the red silks bound around the brides starts to drip and flow down from the stones like liquid. Blood. Their garb has shifted into blood and is pouring and merging into a massive pool around the edge of the wall and it steadily grows. 

The brides labored breathing whistles across the air, raising in volume until it hurts, harshly grating in your ears in a shrill pitch. And the sound mutates into a chorus of screams that you swear you can feel dragging over your skin like claws. You cover your ears with your hands to muffle the impact of the tortured shrieking, but it offers you no solace from the pain. And all the while the cat - the thing - stares at you from its place on the bloody floor, stained by the very red that is closing in on you from all corners, but you cannot find it in yourself to look past the agony to find strength and collect yourself from the cold granite. 

The red pours around the remaining bit of the candle and the small flame at the end of the wick hisses and sputters at the liquids touch. The light emitting from it dims considerably, threatening to enclose the catacomb in a void. And the cats shadow seems to expand underneath the waning fire, stretching in a jagged way that looks like arms trying to tear free from cloth or skin.

And the cat - a mere extension of the true monster - steps forward while its eyes burn brighter. And the blood is upon you, threatening to touch you. Nausea churns in your stomach and all of the muscles in your body draw taught. You are forced to watch as the creature grows closer, and all you can do is try your best to prepare to fight it, as pathetic as your odds no doubt are. And the brides screaming warbles and shifts into a painful mocking laughter as though they could sense your thoughts. And it makes you feel like an animal caught in a cage. A bird pinned between jagged teeth and the jaws are closing in. The walls and shadows move in closer and their joyous howling and giggling rises in a crescendo, celebrating your anticipated death. You brace as best as you can, balling your hands into fists so tightly that your nails break the skin, watching as the monstrous shadow builds up and prepares to lash out with obsidian talons. 

But the killing blow never comes. Instead, a pair of steady arms wrap around your body, encasing you against the comfort of a chest. And a rush of scents washed over you with its presence, and you struggle to place what it reminds you of. The musk of the soil after fresh rain, the salt of the sea, a calm breeze on a summer night; light and floral and earthy, but those descriptions also do no service to the fragrance that engulfs you. And with it something magnetic dances across your skin and it steals your breath away and your body threatens to melt against theirs. 

Your mind can hardly catch up with what you are seeing. The bloody floor of the burial chamber dematerializes from underneath you, but you do not fall but your body tenses in preparation regardless. The walls shake with a tremendous groan, splitting under the seize and giving under spills of sand and the murals bleed with the fractures. And the air is electric with something heavy and alive and angry, and it courses across your skin and siphons the air from your lungs from the gravity of it. Even the beast made from shadows lurches back as if it was struck and hisses underneath the heat of the rage permeating the atmosphere, clawing against the wall that was rapidly disintegrating and losing tangibility. And the beast screams along with the brides as they vanish from existence. One final baleful cry that rattles your bones and shudders over you before it drowns out completely and with it the catacomb all but vanishes and instead of the blood-soaked stones you are looking down at the expanse of the night sky with stars spread out underneath your feet. 

You brain fails to register that you appear to be hovering over a cluster of distant galaxies and you are left to stare down dumbly at the dark mass of the sky, taking in the stretch of the rich splashes of blues and stellar remnants and stardust gathered like clusters of diamonds and the scale of it nearly makes you forget about the press of someone's body along your back. Their arms around your waist in a tight hold, but there is also a sort of reluctance in their grip made known by the rigidity from the muscles of their arms and the narrow gap left between your bodies. But even between the space you can feel the low heat of them radiating against you. A part of you wanted to look over your shoulder, to discover the face of your savior but some pull in your gut warned you not. That you would not like what you would see. And so, you keep still underneath their embrace, staring off into the quiet breadth of the cosmos where comets drop across the darkness like crystalline tears. Seconds pass without either of you moving, as still as statues. As though if either of you so much as breathed the delicate emanation that cocooned the both of you would shatter. But despite your hesitation there was a prickle of curiosity tugging at you, and you could not deny the pull and you made to slowly turn your head in an attempt to sneak a glance over your shoulder. 

You barely manage to twitch a muscle of movement before they seem to shed their initial diffidence and nestle their face near the nape of your neck, and you can feel the tip of their nose brush against your ear like they mean to hide their identity from you. Their chest expands against the flat of your back, and it takes a moment for your overstimulated brain to realize that they are drawing in a breath, taking your scent into their lungs and holding it there like its oxygen. For some reason it sends of thrum of heat over your body, and combined with the steady, pulsating hum of otherworldly power that courses through the air, it makes you feel as though you may collapse. That you might come apart and burst into flames. There is no chill of fear and disgust does not rise in your stomach like nausea instead their presence feels welcomed. And despite the foreign sensation of their touch, there is also a sense of familiarity to it. Like finally falling into the arms of an old lover. 

They move their head from your by just a few scant inches, and a strange part of you mourns the loss. You wished that the hover of their lips would land on your skin, but they do not. The circle of their arms seems to press you in closer, like they cannot bear even the possibility of you parting.

For a moment the cosmos seems to halt, the intersperse collection of individual galaxies and stars pausing in their rotations and the night holds its breath and so do you. Then a sound purrs out, a heavy baritone that pours across the silence of the universe and fills you with honey and warmth. A deep, smoky cadence that you can feel curling inside the cavern of your chest and running deep across your bones and the nerves and sinew of your entire being. 

"This dream is over." 

You wake with a start. Sucking air into your lungs with a strained gasp while your hands reach around the bedding in a mindless scramble, struggling to orient yourself, but eventually you are able to at least prop your body up on shaky arms. Your eyes rove across your surroundings, no longer taking in the breathless view of stardust and nebulas but the dull clay walls of your vacant quarters and apart from yourself the bed is empty. A quick press of your hand against the stuffed mattress confirms that Cat - you're Cat had been there at some point in the night, the heat still trapped within the fabric from where he sat next to you. And you had shakily removed from yourself from the bed and searched the room for him. You had even approached the door, pressing your head against the wood and contemplated opening it but you could hear one of the guards shuffling behind it, trying to find some reprieve for their aching feet. And so, you returned to the bed with that dark voice still echoing in your ears. You could not sleep. Not even if you wanted. Not with that shadowed creature lurking and that familiar stranger invading your mind. The Nightmare Ruler, your brain supplied without forgiveness, and the thought sent a shiver down your spine. 

And you lay there for hours, now awaiting the sunrise despite the threat that it posed, clinging to your own body with shaking arms as you stare into the darkness, waiting to find something looking back. But soon the maids are pouring into your room and scattering around the foot of your bed, and they must have noticed the panic on your face as a hint of curiosity bleeds through their blase expressions, apart from that single one who always seems to be plotting your demise. 

"Is something the matter? You look troubled." And even in your tired haze you know that it is the voice of the one who openly dislikes you. The one with the sable hair and venomous words. Euthymia, you had learned her name to be. She makes no effort to hide the delight in her tone and in turn you do not even try to school the scowl that takes over your features, pinning her with an open glower, but it does nothing to extinguish the joyful gleam in her eyes. The other servants are ushering you out of bed, already cooing and gushing over the prospect of preparing you for the day ahead and you suddenly feel as though you have been tossed into a lake of ice. The five-day long celebration is coming to a close. The ritual is tonight. 

They ignore your distress, urging you to shed your slip and climb into the bath full of steaming water and oils to prepare you for the ritual. And they had patted you dry when you had gotten out of the tub so that they could dap at your skin with lotions and perfumes. Running marjoram in your hair and something faintly sweet but heady and spicy beneath your jaw. Even spreading fragrances across your inner thighs and palm oil around your breasts. It had an embarrassed heat prickling across your face, and you nearly scoffed at their presumptuousness. And then they were guiding you to kneel on the cushions placed before the large, polished bit of bronze propped along the wall, using the reflection so that you may observe the process as they worked. You were in a fog as they combed your hair and set it and pinned it in a way that they deemed worthy, but you cannot stop thinking of that velvet timber and the feeling of being watched by concealed eyes prickles along your body. And you try to ignore the sensation, telling yourself that it is just paranoia. 

But you could not dwell on your troubles for long before you had taken notice of the strip of fabric from the corner of your eye. And a better look had confirmed it was indeed that dreadful gown that had been laid out along the cushions. You stared from your peripheral vision and each time your head moved even the slightest degree out of their disliking one of the maids would jerk it back into place, scolding you underneath their breath, but your eyes did not stray from the pieces of clothing once. It would have been a gorgeous thing if not for the horror that is comes with it. A vibrant scarlet and intricate gold and black stitching and embroidery. But you could not marvel over its beauty, instead you eyed it warily as though it was poisonous. And perhaps it was.

It truly disturbed you. That horrid red thing that signaled the final chapter of your life, and you could hear the anguished cries and manic laughter of the brides from your nightmare echoing out from the depths of your mind. You could not suppress the way you shuddered. Was that meant to be your fate? A captive in her own body, suppressed underneath a spell of eternal slumber while her body wasted away in a forgotten tomb? You had heard rumors of what happened to the nightmare king's brides after the ritual. Presumptions truly, fabricated speculation that had no true foundation as the priestesses are very private about the affairs of the ceremony that do not require the presence of the villagers. And the townspeople are typically guided out of the temple after the connection between the Chosen and the Endless has been successfully tethered.

Most speculations were good natured enough. Painting the role of becoming one of the Dream King's brides in a lavish light. Something to be envious of, with many saying that to be one of his Chosen was to spend eternity of nights in endless pleasure, with the world at your fingertips. 

But there had been other more sinister whispers, idle gossip that the unconscious brides were taken to a subterranean set of tunnels built underneath the temple. Dug to house the women as they slept on, not killed so as not to sever the link between them and the dream god but kept animated and sleeping within the icy tombs of the catacombs. Kept that way so that the deity could torment them in the halls of kingdom for all eternity. Feasting on their souls and flesh. But many refuse to believe the rumor, even your own father had rebutted the very possibility, as he was a firm believer that the Chosen were simply killed off after the ritual and their bodies were burned so that the ashes could be released upon the winds and lifted to the gods along with the plume incents and smoldering herbs. 

But neither option fared well for you. 

"You had seemed quite distressed when we came in. Did you have a nightmare, my lady?" Euthymia asks, voice sickly sweet with false sincerity. "How strange that the Dream King would allow his Chosen to be harassed by his spirits." And she pats the juice of crushed mulberries onto the rise of your cheeks to add color to your skin, but the push of her fingertips was much too harsh. You were tempted to lunge at her but restrained yourself. 

"Not at all. In fact, I had a rather pleasant dream. " You reply cooly, not allowing her to see you shaken and you tilt your head, pretending to admire the way that they had dressed your hair and decorated it with flowers and pieces of jewels. " It was a rather pleasurable one." 

"Pleasurable?" Comes her nonplussed response and her hand pauses, simply hovering. 

"Oh, yes." You speak lowly, like you are sharing a scandalous story, and your tone is all smooth and honeyed. " It was not a nightmare that visited me, but the Dream King himself. " And you cannot help but internally gloat at the way that some part of her seems to waver, visibly deflating underneath your lie. " He had crawled between my thighs you see and ravished me with his tongue in ways that no mortal man ever could." Even the other ladies had halted in their routine, stopping to listen to your hastily spun fib. And you casted your gaze downward to your hands demurely, like you were shy or embarrassed that you had lost your manners. Scandalized, the other maids had bent towards each other and exchange giggling whispers, but Euthymia was less than enthused. And for the remainder of your time together she had been tightlipped and scowling, and you were surprised that a storm cloud had not been following her every move with how bothered she seemed to be. 

But you could not deny that she made a good point. Why had you suffered from a nightmare at all? It had been sometime since you had. You could hardly recall when it had been last. Perhaps you truly had done something to anger the god. But that had been him, had it not? The one who had come to your aid and taken you in his arms and spoke to you with that smoky cadence. It must have been if the way that he had ended your dream so easily was any indication. And that primordial vibration that had surrounded you both; it was the same that you had felt at the pyre when that strange man was watching. 

And perhaps tonight you would get the answers that you seek, but then you might not want them. 

The rest of the day pours in a distorted stream, and you hardly register slipping into you into that disturbing red garb and you barely notice when the priestesses and temple guards arrive to collect you from the maids and guide you to the dinning haul of the commune where you are assisted down to the sunken floor in the center of the room as some sort of center piece, once again forcing you to sit underneath the eyes of hundreds. You feel exposed, as though you were not wearing clothes at all. Stripped for them to criticize and leer at. You were sure that every person in the village was here to enjoy the banquet. Even the servants were allotted freedom from their duties for the final night of the ritual and were free do dine alongside their masters as equals. 

And once again they had provided you with the best meats and fruits and wine available. The finest of the bounty collected over the farms and orchards for you to gorge yourself on like a swine before its slaughter and because of that you could not bring yourself to eat despite the hollow pit in your gut that begged you to do so.  And you could feel the Priestesses dozen eyes boring into from their place from above, no doubt taking your refusal to eat as not just an insult to themselves but to their god as well. Good. 

But the townspeople did not seem to care, laughing freely and enjoying the festivities without pause and you had been forced to sit as time waned and the sun drifted closer and closer towards the edge of the earth, no matter how much you wished and willed for it not to. And once the townspeople had finished indulging on mead and wine and satiated their hunger, the shrine had collected you once more to climb upon the palanquin that awaited outside, surrounded by servants who prepared to march you across the town from the strength of their shoulders to the Temple of Morpheus where death awaited you. You had tried to struggle against the shackles of the hierodules hands that had seized your arms and shoulders like bands of steel. But you could not shake yourself from their grip and they were mercilessly placing you upon the extravagant cushions of the human-powered vehicle to be suspended high in the air. 

And the townspeople congregated around you as you were carried from the walls of the commune and into the streets, lighting the way with burning torches. And many people had once again adorned themselves in the beastly costumes and danced and cavorted around the palanquin and through the crowd. The Sisters' lead the collective. And you had noticed in the head priestesses' hands, she cradled an obsidian bowl covered by a lid decorated by strokes of gold. A harmless item that on its own would have done nothing to inspire fear in you, but you had heard hushed conversation of its contents before. Some sort of vapor that smoldered from the extract of the poppy flower, and it would serve to tether you to the gods. Or in this occasion one god in particular. 

And once again blossoms and seeds were being tossed over the procession in a celebratory display. In the hands of men and women and children alike people carried votive offerings for the Endless, such as figurines of animals and carvings of a humanoid figure.  And in the cavalcade, musicians were present, playing from a kithara and an aulos, and a lyra. But even over the cheering and commotion and music you could hear a soft repetitive ruffle along the low breeze. You had jerked your head up to search the sky, nearly straining a muscle in the process but the pain had faded into the background at the sight of a dark bird coasting along the current. And a faint iridescent sheen had gleamed on its feathers from underneath the dimming sunlight and the Priestesses - and in turn the crowd had all rejoiced at the bird's appearance, as it no doubt heralded good fortune. 

But you did not share their positive reactions. You heard all the stories, that the ravens were the dark god's familiars, serving as his eyes and ears when he himself could not be present. Your anxiety had not time to settle no matter how much you tried to swallow it down and the presence of the circling bird did nothing to quell the bubbling fear in your gut and bones. 

And soon the procession ventured from the village and the pale marble of the temple seemed to rise from the hill behind the security of its protective wall. It was the only building that had been spared in the initial siege from the Oneiroi when the Nightmare King had abandoned the village in his scorn. It is just the same as when you had last saw it as a child. The ghostly white columns that reminded you of the remains of a skeleton, and the sculpted pediment that depicted beastly creatures in various poses; lashing out and snarling while some seemed to be frozen in the motion of dance. But in the center was a more human figure. No doubt the Endless himself. And the scene was painted in blues and black, with hints of red and gold embellishments.  

And the closer you got to the temple the more your anxiety climbed, until you trembled where you sat, staring into the vacant eyes of the god's sculptured image. And even those they were not real they seemed to bore into you and flay you open until all of your emotions and shaky breaths poured out. Even the sheer fabric of your veil did little to lessen the feeling. 

It was not until you felt hands circling the shape of your arms that you came to and were able to discern that you had been lowered to the ground of the courtyard and were being pulled from your knees, and you were wordlessly guided up the temple. But you did not feel the stairs underneath your feet and the music and laughter sounded as though it were coming from miles away, carried in on a foreign wind. And even when you stepped upon the landing and two of the sisters spun you around to face the crowd down below that had not felt real either. It was like looking at a tapestry of faded figures and blurred colors. 

Then the head priestess stepped in front of you in a flash of black, blotting out your vision of the crowd like the moon obstructing the sun in an eclipse, but you were thankful for it. Then her voice broke out in a shrill bellow, the passion expelling from her cracking it around the edges. " Tonight marks the emergence of our return to grace and glory from underneath the compassion of our god! " She cried and the crowd cried along with her, waving their torches animatedly to show their elation. " No longer will we be shunned by His Sovereignty for we have been given a chance to correct a wrong that should never have happened! To bow our heads in humble plea and return to him which was stolen all those years ago!" 

It made you nauseous the way they spoke of you. As though you were some frivolous token to be bartered. How they did not see you or any of the women before you as human beings with lives and wants and futures but as a cow to be slaughtered. A coin to be exchanged for lavish fabrics and abundant crops. And you could feel the stinging heat of anger filling your chest and pushing out heavy breaths from your lungs. But when the Head Priestess had shifted and moved from out of your vision it left you to make eye contact with the cheering masses; her voice had faded into a low, distant drone. And inside their crazed sort of jubilation, you could see every other emotion that you had felt since the Endless had descended his hoard upon the village in incessant torment: Loss, pain, fear, hunger, sorrow, confusion. 

Many lives have been lost since the day that he had seemed you all unworthy of his gratitude and sanctuary. He had turned the land barren and dry and the animals that had once flourished here have all been culled by his nightmares and their numbers have suffered and dwindled greatly. But as much as you sympathized with these people, understood their plight, you did not owe them anything. Certainly not your life. Especially since they had casted you from your home without so much as a backward glance, forcing you live along the forest all because you were not a kept woman. 

And in five years' time there would be another there would be another girl here, standing just as you do now, willing or unwilling to bear the collectives sins, to pacify the Endless for the good fortune. It would be a ceaseless loop. History repeating itself one poor soul at a time. 

A part of you considered fighting free from the sisters' hold. Of running down the steps and out of the temple grounds without looking back. But even if you happened to make it past the massive crowd of desperate villagers and to the sea, there were no ships, no small rowboats left for fishing. All of the seafaring vessels had been all but demolished by his spirits to keep all of the locals who wronged him trapped on the island to endure the full brunt of his punishment. And even those who have managed to hide the construction boats - avoiding the Ruler of Nightmares many scrutinizing eyes and pushed their watercraft into the dark waves while underneath the shine of the sun, when his influence was claimed to be at its weakest had all disappeared into the heavy wall of fog that surrounds the coast. Only the remains of their boats would float back to shore, sometimes with blood staining the waves.

You truly were left to the fate that these people and their god spared you to. 

Then the head priestess was spinning around in a flurry of robes, and you could not evade the fervor of her gaze, could not flee from, still immobilized by her sisters and their rigid hold of their hands. The gleam in her eyes was detached and wild; the darkness of her pupils swelling, eating up the colored rings around their borders until they were nearly gone. It was the expression of someone who could not be reasoned with. Poisoned by power and hope. But you did not waver underneath the weight of her fixed stare. 

Then one of the sisters was gripping you by the nape of your neck, the movement unexpected enough to pull a startled cry from your lips. It did not give you time to register the obsidian bowl being lifted to your face, the lid being removed to release plumes of smoke. Even through the veil you could feel the warmth of the vapors caressing the skin of your cheeks. It is all so abrupt that you inhale a large lungful in the midst of your struggle, and the scent of it overwhelms you. Stuffing your mouth and nostrils full of something sweet and floral, tinged with the musk of the earth. It reminds you of flowers, of incents but also not at all. And your lungs are too busy heaving around the unexpected rush of smoke and your mind too confused and scrambled to feel or focus on the world around you, and the Priestesses voice was the last coherent thing to break through the fog: "Do not fight this, my dear. " Her voice crooned. Too sweet, to gentle for her cruelty. "To you we give thanks for your sacrifice for our prosperity." 

And in your distress, you tried to think of anything to keep yourself grounded and present. Anything to keep you here in your body, terrified of crossing over and falling into the Nightmare King's gnashing teeth. So you think of your list of chores awaiting you at home; tending to the garden now that life was coming back to the soil, setting more traps in the forest, plucking wild strawberries from the small cluster that you had discovered growing in a small grove, seeing Cat again - the little beast refuses to eat unless you prompt him to (there is no one else to take care of him) - and walking along the beach during the sunrise. Feeling the sand and water underneath your toes and watching the sunlight reflect and dapple the surface. But soon the thoughts were drowning out underneath the impression of the fuzz and haze that blanked your mind. You felt as though your soul was rising from the casing of your body and floating up to the sky above the temple, but you could still feel your knees making contact with the cold marble floors, though the feeling was far off and dull. But there was still anger simmering through your veins. Hurt and betrayal. What were you mad about? 

And the world around you is a rush of colors and blurred shapes and muffled sounds. But you do not want to focus on it regardless. You can't when the weightlessness is pulling at your fingertips and threatening to take you away with it (but you can't leave, what about him?) and deposit you among the stars, and the only thing that gives you even a scrap of connection to your own body is the repetitive pulse of your heartbeat coursing in your ears. The floral sugar and salt of the smoke still coats your tongue, and you can feel it in your lungs, heavy and syrupy. And the drag of your relaxed limbs seems to pull you down now instead of up, with the thrum of your heart doing little to center you anymore. But its less of a pulse now and more of pound -an angry crash. That's not right, is it? 

You try to blink. To get some scope of reality, but it's difficult to keep your eyes past the blurred sting. Are you crying? No, that is not right either. It is no longer a steady beat, but a deafening layered rumble, muffled but also painfully loud. You can faintly see past the red sheer of your veil glimpses of black and blue streak across your vision, with peeks of flashes of tiny pale dots.

It is all to distorted and airy. Too muddled for your mind to make something tangible but then your body is being tossed by some unforeseen force. A sharp, unrelenting pull that moves your entire being like it weighs nothing and the air is snatched from your lungs, and you choke on something. Some deeply imbedded survival instinct awakens and your body flails, limbs dragging and reaching through the thick atmosphere in attempt to grab ahold of something. Anything to orient yourself and make sense of what is happening to you, but your hands come up empty. Your lungs twitch, trying to draw in a breath but instead they burn, and the sting is so potent that it licks a trail up your throat and the pungent taste of salt blankets you tongue.

Water, some faint thought breaches the cotton that stuffs your skull. You're in water. 

And your body moves on its own, arms and legs kicking to propel in what you hope is the direction of the surface. In a glance upward you notice the distorted expanse of what must be the waves, and through the commotion above you see that glimpse of those burning pinpricks of light again and with no other alternative, fueled by an animalistic sort of fear you swim towards it. You can only hope that you make it up in time, with your lungs aching and burning like smoldering embers within your chest. You can already feel your limbs growing sluggish from the lack of oxygen and the heavy tow of your ceremonial robes, but you try your best to keep moving, dragging yourself forward with weak arms and legs. But death still hangs heavy in the back of your mind. And for the second time tonight you're terrified that this may be your final moments, with your legs flailing uselessly and the darkness clouding at the base of your senses like a layer of winter ice. It makes it difficult, but it is sheer instinct and panic and hope that burns at your muscles, reviving them of their vigor and pressing you onwards. 

It is your hands that break through the surf first, quickly followed by your head and you could have sobbed with relief if you were not busy trying not to remain afloat and actively choking on the water in your throat. And you push yourself forward, even as the waves toss you in their angry roll against the shore. But blessedly under the current that threatens to drag you under and drown you it also serves to propel you forward towards the beach, jostling your body with their great power and you feel like a child's toy that had been lost over the side of a boat. It is on the pale crest of an angry wave that you meet the shore, being carelessly discarded on the sand and the rush of water pelts across your back, soaking you one final time before retreating back into the ocean behind you. 

You gather as much as strength as you have left to prop yourself up on your hands and knees, carrying yourself across the beach with wobbling limbs while your abdomen and chest shiver and heave in a violent fit. The muscles of your body squeezing you tightly to expel the sea water from your lungs in a shaky grip that has you gasping and wheezing. And even though your lungs sting like a raw wound as you suck in a ragged inhale, the dim feel of oxygen filling your lungs is wonderful, like a healing ointment smoothed over a fresh burn. You allow yourself to collapse onto your stomach once you escape the reach of the sea, but it is difficult to see, to hear and even still hard to breathe with the thin fabric of your veil clinging to the shape of your face from the weight of the water pulling the material down, pressing it against the divots of your nostrils nearly waterboarding you with each breath. 

You blindly yank at the veil, tearing it and your Stefana from your head with an angry huff, carelessly tossing it. You do not see where it falls but you can hear it land with an unattractive wet plap. You blink freely now able to take in your surroundings now that, that cursed thing is no longer tainting your vision. You deduce quickly that you are on a beach. Obviously. But it does not appear to be the one that you often find yourself strolling down on your free time, fantasizing about distant lands or the Isles of the Blessed, or the islands where the sirens live and lure sailors to their deaths. The sand was far too pale. Too soft. And when you moved it seemed to glitter like snow underneath sunlight. But it was a glance upward that confirmed your awful reality. The sky above was not yours. The scattering of stars not sparing enough and the expanse of it was not simply a dark backdrop but splashed with vibrant rich nebulas of azure and silver and pale golds against the black velvet of space. The stardust seemed to shift as though the heavens were a living breathing thing. And the constellations above you are unrecognizable. There is no Orion, lunging forward to strike or brace against the blow of a foe, and the scattered knot of the Pleiades is absent from the sky.  

Your heart sinks to the base of your gut and a heated rock seems to lodge itself in your throat, rising with the threat of tears all from the bruising reality that you are no longer home. Not just the island, or your house, but the entire plain of your existence. Plucked from everything you have ever known by the hands of your people to appease a monster. Heartlessly thrown into the deity's domain. Forgotten and used. 

You remembered the tales told by your mother and the words that had been passed down from priestess to priestess across the centuries that spoke of the Nightmare Ruler's world: The Dreaming, it was called. The place that served as the cradle of the universe's collective unconsciousness, housing the minds a mortal, beast and god alike while they slept. An extension of the Endless himself. The entire realm was a dream in its own right. That means that you must be able to wake from it. Perhaps you could will yourself awake if you concentrated enough. You have been never much of a lucid dreamer. Only able to do small feats of altering landscapes or changing the color of your dress. You had never been aware enough to wake yourself. But maybe here in the Dreaming you would be able to conjuror some sort of exit. 

You centered your attention down to a single thought: Waking up. Of feeling the drag of consciousness slipping back into your physical body and opening your eyes. And you pushed that thought until your body responded with the ferocity of it, your muscles tensing under the strain of it, and you are left gasping, the same as you had when you crawled ashore. You think of your body, still and induced in that horrific stasis, being purified underneath the smoke of incense and wrapped in the red silk and voile fabric by the Priestesses to be carried and stuffed down in the catacombs like a forgotten relic. You thought of waking suddenly. Of tearing yourself from the cloth and fleeing home and dropping to your knees to burry your fingers in the soil there and crying with the relief that would swell within your chest and blossom with the joy of being home. 

And you had found that in your desperation you had actually crumbled to your knees, but you did not feel the gentle earth beneath your hands but sand.

You take to pinching at your arm in a pathetic attempt to try and escape the Dreaming, twisting the flesh between your fingertips until it stung but to no avail. 

And a low, heavy wind rumbled across the beach, howling over the waves and the field of crimson blossoms and golden wheat, punctuating the silence and the loneliness that hung over you like the aftermath of a tempest. Defeat weighed down your shoulders as you watched the thrashing ocean with a sense of detachedness. Then something in the air seemed to shift, pulsing with something alive. That distantly familiar alien thrum and you could feel it against your skin; a magnetic pressure that reminded you of a brief night in the cosmos, held in a tight embrace. You did not have to turn to confirm who the presence was. You did not know if you had the strength to. The fear and gravity of the beings pull nearly seized your lungs, and you clenched your hands into fist to bear the feeling of it. And then that velveteen rasp speaks out, moving down your body like a flow of water and smoke and you can feel the hum of it in your bones.  

"I had no intention of your arrival being so distressful. Had you not struggled your coming would not have been so violent. " His tone is a placid timbre, but you swear you can detect sympathy - perhaps a sort of regret - tinged into the edges of his words. But it does little to placate you. His detached surprise at your anguish only serves to mutate your sorrow and defeat and it gives way into anger, searing at you like a burning fire that needs something to burn, and chars any remaining pieces of your self-preservation and wit, making you forget that you were in front of deity that has seen eons come and go in its lifetime and was currently holding your mind and possibly your soul hostage. But you did not care. Not now, with your entire life in an upheaval. And even then, you still can't bring yourself to look at it - the source of that primordial electric pulse. To confirm all of your fears, that home was truly out of reach, that you were entirely out of depth and in a plain that you did not belong in. There was a safety in your delusions, your self-imposed ignorance. And so you stared at the angry, rolling waves and pretended that they were your own, not daring to turn yet. "What was your intention? " You inquired, not even bothering to hide the scorn in your broken voice. Not caring of the consequences. " That you'd just steal me away from everything I've ever known, and I'd be content with it?" 

"Look at me. " 

It is a simple set of words, but the conviction of it beats across the very fabric that binds and creates the Dreaming, rippling over the sand, shifting stars and stirring the already tumulus waves to threatening heights and the power of it runs through your unconsciousness as well, tingling across your body and it commands you to move. An unwelcome reminder of your mortality and the scope of the deity and his domain. You turn slowly, helpless to ignore the order even while you dread looking upon him. Wondering if he would wear the skin of a monster to punish you for your ire. Perhaps contorted limbs and bloody jagged teeth or stretched flesh and the lifeless abysmal gaze of that otherworldly helm.

There is none of that. No cloak made of nightmares or terror. Just a man. But that is not right either. 

Regardless of the glamour he had casted this was no man. Ignoring the information as told by the naked eye all of the minute tells became glaringly obvious, such as the way his skin was too soft and free from blemish or flaw, like the statues crafted in his commemoration; the messy tresses of his hair that appeared as though they were spun from the night sky itself and the impossible blue of his eyes that mimicked the shade of a crystalline sea, or perhaps they were a reflection of the very nebulas above you now. He is so beautiful that it is almost cruel. You have to wonder why he chose you specifically. That he has been watching over you since the night at the pyre. Long before that even. That, that same voice had spoken to you during your sleep and commanded you to wake, and once again you are unable to ignore it, standing from your place on the sand. 

The brunt of his gaze is too much- scrutinizing. You felt like you were stripped bare. Every nerve, every want or worry or promise that you had ever made was laid out across the shore for him examine. You quailed underneath the breadth of it, the sheer intensity was maddening - that there seemed to be no secret that you could hide from him. The entirety of your mind held within the webbing of his domain for him study and toy with.  

"Why do you fear me?" He asked, and you could laugh or cry at the question but neither would do proper service to express the severity of your emotions. The turmoil and confusion. He sounded so sincere. Just as perplexed as you even though his stance was devoid of any body language. Rigid and exact, with an almost clinical posture. But you could see it in his eyes. A small, fleeting glimpse of his own confusion, a slight furrow of an eyebrow, but it vanished just as quickly as it had appeared, erased and blotted out by that aloof expression. 

You were not even sure how to respond, and for a moment your mouth hangs open silently while you collect yourself and find your voice: " I - just - all of the death. " You finally answer lamely, trying to swallow around the dryness of your throat. " The slaughter and starvation. The disease. The suffering." 

"They broke their promise. " It was said so simply. As though it was enough to justify the atrocities and it made nausea bubble in your gut, and hatred too. 

"All because of a woman." You cannot contain the way you scoff, shifting on your feet like you do not know whether to approach him or step away and create more space, your body prickling underneath weight of his aura and his unwavering observation. "You had hundreds slaughtered because you were not given one woman." 

"That is the price for bargaining with an Endless and taking back your word." He replied easily. A simple matter of fact for him, like it was a natural law, a part of his nature that should be expected and understood without consequence, that all failures to comply could not be faulted on him. It was just another tough reminder that this was no mortal that you stood before and that he could not be expected to obey or sympathize with the jurisdictions of your human morality.  

And there was a shift in his expression, something steely and resolute, and the distance between your bodies seemed to close in even though neither of you had placed a single step until there was only a scant space left between you. " I will do the same for you. " 

There was no past tense used. And perhaps under different circumstances you could have seen it as an intimate declaration of love, but it was uttered with a conviction that you could feel and the threat - the promise was hauntingly clear. That he would lay waste to the remaining people of your village if you refused. And although his body remained unmoved, the pressure of his influence hummed and molded against you and robbed you of your breath. It felt like you were standing within the deluge of a summer storm, caught within spires of stardust and the heat of a nova. 

"Their crime is no longer yours to bear. " He said calmly - soothingly like he was trying to placate you. " You will not be harmed. " 

"Is that really true? " You ask, still full of disbelief and contempt and this time you do venture to take a step back and blessedly he allows you, and you cannot help but be thankful that he does not shift the sands to draw you in closer.  "They tell stories of what you do to your tributes once you have them, I'm sure you've heard. That you mold yourself into the likeness of a beast and hunt them, chasing them down the halls of your palace and tearing them limb from limb for eternity: A cycle of death and pain." 

And that pale animal gleam from the bonfire burns alight in his eyes and it does little to quell your steady stream of anxiety, but his indignation does not seem to be aimed at you specifically. " Is that truly what you believe?" And there is a gentleness to him, the annoyance receding as though he was more perturbed than angry, and a part of you nearly regrets having told him, but you squash that scrap of emotion before anything can come of it. "That I am some heartless monster than means to torture you for my entertainment."  

"Well, what else am I supposed to be led to think?" Surely a being of his scope, of his age and power must realize the severity of his actions. The violence and heartache that has bleed across the island and tainted the soil at his command. The senseless slaughter and starvation, forced to helplessly watch as your loved ones succumbed to it. The horrid, twisted sleepless nights and soiled dreams, and then you can hear it again, that twisted vacant laughter, rushing blood and mutilated shadows. " Especially after you sent your nightmares out to trouble me." 

"I promise that I have done no such thing" He assured, but it did little to soothe your frazzled state. " I gave them all specific instruction not to harm you, but they are not without their own free will, and I have delt with it accordingly." He spoke of his creatures as though they were misbehaving children. Simply spoiled and wayward, and not cruel, sadistic beasts. And perhaps he truly did not mean for one of his Oneiroi to haunt you in the night. After all, he did arrive to banish the spirit from your unconsciousness, to wrap his arms around your body in a secure embrace before ending the dream. But regardless of the fact, you could not forgive him.  

"I don't care. I want to go home." 

"Is that truly what you are clinging to? Those empty cold walls, vacant of family or companionship?  Or is it them? The very people that so freely discarded you. Abandoned and out casted you as though you were a leper." 

He was right of course. You were already well aware of the fact, but it did not make it sting any less to hear, and the old memories that rose up were less than welcome. A painful reminder that even your own father and mother had rejected you, not physically but the emotional disconnect had been there. A rift had torn between your dynamic like a gaping, festering wound that had never truly healed.  They had never looked at you the same, the both of them loathing you for marring the family name and social standing. And the other villagers would all murmur and stare in disdain whenever you had ventured into town to collect fruits or fresh meats at the local market, all because you had slept with a man as an unmarried woman. And your alienation was palpable. But you did not want to give him the satisfaction of admitting it and caving in. 

"No- they didn't-" 

"But they did, didn't they?" You could not stand his confidence. How he held his head high with that resolute air of certitude and kingly ego, how the air pulsed over you and tingled at your flesh like a balm. "Leaving you all in alone in that quiet little house, hoping that you'd fall prey to one of my nightmares." 

He steps forward crowding into your space with that pale wicked gleam in his eyes and the stars hanging in the sky behind him seem to warp towards his person, as though they were trying to leave their heavenly cradle to follow him. You heart speeds from apprehension surely, but you don't find yourself leaning away from his body or trying to flee. You are stock still, hardly able to spare any pieces of your attention on anything other than him. And then he is lifting a hand to brush against your cheek, featherlight but somehow still reverent in its glide and you can feel the life radiating from it. Ice and heat simultaneously, cosmos and earth. 

"I can give you everything you crave. The life you've always dreamed of having." His voice that dark velvet purr, draping around you temptingly.  "You will want for nothing." But you are hardly hearing his words anymore too preoccupied with the tender trail of his curled fingers; his knuckles tracing a blaze of warmth down your throat, slipping down dangerously close to the bit of your chest exposed by the low hang of the garment. But his hand pauses in its descent, stopping just a few inches from the valley between your breasts, and you cannot hide the way that your body shivers at the contact, a heat stirring within you. "But it is a decision that must be made of your own accord." 

And then he is backing away from you, allowing the atmosphere to clear of its electrical charge and for oxygen fill your lungs, but your body mourns the loss of his touch regardless of your returned breath. And it is then that you are able to realize what he had said, and some bit of hope blossoms, and now it is you who makes after him, following his path as he glides through the field of red and gold. 

"Wait? I can go home if choose to?" 

"No." 

"But you just sai-"

He turns to you so quickly that it is surprising, whipping around in a stream of darkness, and in the distant stars held within the fabric of his chlamys adjust with the movement. "You are a part of the Dreaming now. There is no place for you in the mortal realm - not anymore." 

The revelation has the same effect as a pail of ice water being doused over you. Unforgiving, paralyzing. And this time you do not have the ability to respond, far too busy grappling all of the emotions that are clamoring for the forefront.  

"Your home is here now. " He insists, lips pursed in a petulant sort of way. " Regardless of if you decide to take your place alongside me, this is where you must stay. Even if you were to leave this instant, time within the Dreaming does not abide by the same laws of your world. You would return to a point not of your own. Lost in a time entirely unfamiliar." 

And the chasm that has been threatening to break seems to grow deeper, fissures and cracks breaking at the foundations. And you vehemently want to deny him. To call him out for lying. Surely, he must be, how good can the Nightmare Ruler's word truly be? Is he a being that can possibly be trusted? But if he is correct, telling the complete truth and you were able to return to your realm would you be able to survive it? The sight of your home now years, if not decades old crumpled and dilapidated from the unforgiving pressure of time might break you. He must notice that vulnerability wearing down on you, because something in his gaze softens and you wished that he didn't look like he cared because some horrid part of you - the same one that had preened underneath his touch - is comforted by his attention, left wanting for it even and you are finding it difficult to be revolted or angry anymore. You would like to blame it on remnants of that perfumed smoke being still in your system, but truthfully you have not felt its influence since you had been dunked into the ocean. The brackish water and chaotic waves seeming to have strained it from your system. Or perhaps it had been the Dreaming itself that had done so, assisted with the fact that you may not even be tethered to your body at all anymore, the effects of the smoke too distant to reach your spirit that has drifted too far from its body. Maybe you truly do belong to his realm now. And you wait for that coal of anger to burn again, but it never comes, leaving you feeling hollow and broken. Exhausted even while you stand in a world fashioned from dreams. "I'm just tired . . . " You mourn weakly, watching the reeds and blossoms sway in the soft wind. 

"Then let me ease your burden. " His voice is much closer than it had been before, and when you jerk your head up, startled from the proximity of it, the point of your nose nearly brushed against his. You are immediately drawn into the all-consuming center of his gaze, and it feels like you are being held within it, called to the edge of something yawning and consuming, beckoning you to jump and you do not think that you have the strength to pull back from it. And you found that you did not want to. 

He has not made any means to move, leaving it to you to close the distance and you do, the hesitation thawing. He tracts you as you draw near, seeming to hold a breath that he did not need, and he appears tense, rigid like he was physically restraining himself with a practiced sort of patience. And it might have frightened you earlier, but the fervor in them does nothing to dissuade you now if anything it only serves to motivate you. Inside those pale irises you see cyan and indigo and sapphire flaring like nebulas drawing you in like a flower leaning towards the sun, and for a moment you swear you caught a glimpse of something else lurking inside of them, a glimmer of his true self perhaps; something vast and entirely beyond you. It felt ancient and ever-expanding, ignited and twisting and looming. And you felt like you were on the horizon of making sense of it and both entirely too far, slipping through your muddled understanding like sand and smoke, scorching like a harsh ice. 

It is the whisper of his nose brushing against yours that draws you from your fixation, a delicate sensation but it was blessedly enough to bring you back to the present, assisted by the rich rumble of his voice. "Come back to me. " 

"I nearly fell in, " you murmur back. And it was not a lie, you had nearly lost yourself in the paradox and cosmos that created him but it was also said in an attempt to jest. And you succeeded it seemed if the light, barely there rise at the corner of his mouth way any indication. It all feels fragile, unsure but not unwelcome. Like life returning to the earth after a harsh winter, blossoms breaking through sheets of snow, guided by the tender thaw of sunlight. 

"May I touch you?" He asks, tilting his head to just barely skim the fulness of his lips against yours, not kissing you but just enough to leave your skin tingling in their wake. It is a simple question, but it is enough to have that burning ache coming alive again, taking root deep in the base of your abdomen and you find yourself nodding. Frustratingly enough he does not move, ever a pillar of restraint and he leans his head back when you tilt to close the distance between you. And you catch the smug air that surround him, and you would have snapped at him if you had the gall to, if you did not want him to just kiss you already.

"Use your words. " That dark honeyed resonance tramples any semblance of a barb that you had even fleetingly entertained. The Dreaming has long since gone quiet, seeming to betray its creator's appearance of undisturbed control with the febrile energy that tangled around the both of you, fueling your own growing need with its charge. And you were unable to withhold the plead that leaves you, a floaty sigh: "Please touch me." 

You do not compute him nearing, eliminating the remaining space that divided you to press his lips against your own, suddenly they just are. It is soft, explorative but not without longing. And the sheer need behind it has your knees going weak, and if not for the appearance of an arm around your waist you feared that you might have actually fallen. Your body thrums with a sort of unsuppressed elation, a syrupy heat spreading across your limbs and dripping down your spine, settling between the cradle of your hips from the swipe of his tongue against your bottom lip, silently asking for your permission. You thread your finger through the silken tresses of his hair and lightly scratch across his scalp. You can only feel the groan rumbling against your lips when you allow him to lick into your mouth and you immediately decide that you need to actually hear it. You are sure that the sound of that husky timbre breathing out in a rapturous moan will haunt you for the rest of eternity, and you could not wait to hear it. 

He cups your face in a single hand, securing your head with the curl of his fingers, allowing him to slant the plush of his mouth against you in an angle that let him to pull you in closer, enfolding you into the warmth of his chest. And the remaining doubt and restraint that had seemed to hold you two back was quickly beginning to melt, giving way to carnal sort of urgency. And already you are left panting, sweeping your hands across any part of him that you can, gripping the watery flow of his robes to center yourself through it all. 

You had not felt yourself tipping but your back is now pressed against the textured terrain of the Dreaming, the crushed stalks of reeds and flowers lightly digging at your skin, though it does little to take precedence over your current focus. And he is pulling away from your mouth to duck his head neath your chin, nipping and sucking at the skin there until its tender and you can tell by the way that he tucks your flesh between his teeth and licks that he is leaving marks in his wake, staking his claim upon your body and the mere idea of it has you lowly keening into the night; your body going lax underneath his. All things considered; he has not done much but your brain is already clouding with want, eyes glazing over. And then the heat of his mouth is sealing over your breast, the silk texture of your robe only adding to the pleasure as his tongue circles around your taut nipple. You can't help the way that you arch into it, seeking out more mindlessly but it is not enough. It is does little more than tease you, even with the way that he has draped himself over you he has himself suspended in a way that keeps you from being able to achieve the friction that you desire, stoking that heat inside you with eat nip and suck from his teeth and mouth. 

You can hear him chuckling from above you, the vibrations of his low smug amusement tingling across your chest, adding to your pleasure. If you were not so preoccupied with thoughtlessly trying to grind against his abdomen like a whore, you might have snapped at him for it, but instead you are removing your hands from the rich earth to sweep through his unruly hair, holding him against you instead, melting underneath the feel of his tongue. 

He does not let you have that for long either, releasing the swell of your breast and ducking from your grip, nuzzling a path down the plain of your abdomen and taking your thighs into the smooth glide of his hands, ignoring your protesting cry as he licks at your stomach from over the barrier of the silk. And once again you find yourself cursing that dreadful fabric, swearing into the night while you squirm in his hands. 

"Easy, sweet thing. " He coos, the image of patience. And if not for the wild, glow twinkling in both of his eyes like a beast you would not even think he was affected in the way that you are. That burning light serves as a reminder that he is not normal man, that you are rabbit ensnared within the jaws of a wolf, a mortal lying with a god. But it does not frighten you anymore. Instead, it douses fuel over an already steady flame. And you find yourself hoping to be consumed, taken between the teeth of this dark, cosmic deity and eaten alive. 

His descent does not stop, the point of his nose dragging down until it stops over your mons pubis and your whole body tenses in anticipation, waiting for him to move just a bit lower, to bundle your skirts in his hands and take you into his mouth. But he does not do any of that. He simply hovers there. His clutch on your thighs tightens, threatening to turn your flesh tender and you swear that you can feel the points of talons pricking at you, but it is too dark from the cover of the moonless night to see if he truly has grown claws in his passion - if they have drawn blood. Not that you would have minded if they had. You wanted it. Wanted his claim visible on your body, open to be seen by anyone who may gaze upon you. A trickle of concern does make it through the honeyed smoke of your want, as fleeting as it is, and it is quickly forgotten. Casted aside at the sound of a soft repetitive panting filling the silence. It does not take you long to realize that it is coming from him. He is breathing in your scent, hovering over the heat of you to take lungful's of your arousal. 

It is completely debased. Dirty. But the sight of a this primordial being kneeling between your legs and drawing in the scent of you in this perverted display that you would expect from man and not a god has you moaning into the air. Your cunt throbs, clenching around nothing while you rock your hips near his mouth. His grip tightens once again, smarting your skin while he tries to pin your body even while he chases the shift of your hips. And for one moment you think that he may finally ease both of your discomfort, feed the hunger ravaging your bodies but then horribly, he is pulling from you, leaving you to pant into the open air in a confused daze. "Why did you stop? "

"Let me taste you. " He said thickly, and his eyes shimmer again like the stars suspended in the heavens behind him. "Let me drink from you- worship you." 

His words have your mouth going dry and that aching heat pooling between your thighs. Never in your life have you ever known a man so desperate to pleasure you. To practically beg for it with a barely concealed avidity. That an Endless would ask for your permission. But he is no man after all. And you are nodding once again, but he does not move until the echo of that old sentence chimes in your head, use your words, you remember, and you manage to utter a rushed, "please" out from a shaky huff.  

He rumbles in a pleased way, the Dreaming trembling lightly with the resonance of his satisfaction. You hardly have time to blink before your ceremonial garb all but vanishes, baring you to the soft breeze and then a soft warmth enveloping your wet cunt, leaving you to jerk in surprise and scramble to grab something, anything to tether you. You claw at the field, the soil, before combing them into his hair while you gasp. All the while he is completely immovable, fixed to you throughout your writhing, lapping at your slit to collect the taste of you on his tongue and drink it down with a content purr, before licking up so that he can suckle your clit into the clutch of his mouth. Prompting that heady warmth to drizzle up on top of itself within the base of your abdomen. 

He alternates between that for a few moments, completely unhurried as he switches between lapping at your slit and sucking at your engorged bundles of nerves. And then his tongue is slipping inside of you, working along the walls of your cunt in a way that has your eyes rolling and your back bowing in a taut seize. But it does not stop. Extending into an inhuman length. It is thick and textured near its base, working so deep inside that you have to cry out. The repetitive drag and pull of it ushering you to roll your hips to match its delicious rhythm, building up a rising tide, dangling you over the precipice of something debilitating. 

"Oh gods - I - " 

But he is jerking away from you leaving your cunt to squeeze around the absence of his tongue, biting into the meat of your thigh like he has to preoccupy himself or else he will bury his face back into your heat like you so desperately want him to. You clumsily prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him and the intensity of his gaze would have been intimidating if you were not in your current position. 

"Why did you stop?!" 

"When you come in will be with my name on your lips, " and something possessive layers the rich rumble of his tone. It is heavy and bears no room for argument, but you have no wish to do so. "Say it." 

"My Lor- " But his pointed glare is enough to cut you off, but you find yourself yelping from the reprimanding nip at your sensitive skin. It did not hurt but it took you by surprise regardless. 

"My name." He repeats carefully, and laves his tongue over the dull sting to soothe it, all without breaking eye contact, keeping you within the scope of his watch. And it takes you a moment to sift through his abundance of monikers and titles, trying to think past the sensation of his teeth and lips on you, but you finally manage to settle the same one that the Priestesses would often whisper with reverence. 

"Morpheus. " 

A pleased hum greats you and then blessedly he is spreading you open with his thumbs to subject you to the calculated, blissful lashing of his tongue. And you allow yourself to fall back onto the ground in a boneless heap, easily falling back underneath the sway of that fuzzy Elysian pleasure. Unrestrained moans now freely spilling from you, but you cannot find it in yourself to be the least bit embarrassed by the way you openly keen and whine in bliss. You head tips as you toss in reckless abandon, staring up almost sightlessly at the star cluttered sky. And in your drunken haze your mind oddly remarks that the twinkling stars remind you of peering eyes. But before the thought can take flight a strange sensation is enveloping you, like the brush of water rushing over you. Rolling textured waves, feathered touches and the brush of fingers. 

Hands, a distant thought supplies weakly. It does feel like hands. Thousands of them all scattered about your body. Running over your hips, your stomach, your chest, your throat. And then it feels as though a pair of mouths are taking your breasts into them, and you just barely manage to jerk your head up to confirm that Morpheus is still nestled between your thighs, slurping at your messy cunt even while those phantom hands and mouths stroke over your body, sucking at your nipples in a way that has a gutted moan tearing out of you. 

He is watching you from his place between your legs and the gleam of his eyes are nothing short of smug, taking absolute pride in the way that he is unraveling you at the seams. 

Your body moves as though it is possessed. Writhing like it can't decide which sensation it wants to arch into; the ghostly grasp of a thousand hands or the needy, warmth of his mouth. 

And the squelch of his tongue is sinful, noisily plunging into you. Its passage completely frictionless with the combination of his saliva and the way your cunt drips around the intrusion. He takes the meat of your ass into his physical hands, guiding the jerky rock of your hips into something deeper while he drinks you down, swallowing the obscene slick of your coupling down his throat. And you are babbling now, unable to recognize or understand the scattered way that you beg and cry. Lost to drift in the ceaseless ecstasy, a willing prisoner forced to take it. It feels as though your mind is breaking around the edges, fraying from the sheer scope of your pleasure, leaving you a weightless passenger, no longer held within the restraints of your own body. You soul is alight, burning and drowning in a rapture so sweet that you have no choice but to sob from it all. 

"Morpheus - " You choke around the raged heaving of your chest. And the hands on your body are joined by the phantom lapping of tongues, invisible teeth nipping at your skin and the mouths on your breasts pull and tweak at your nipples. The pleasure is too much, too great for you to fully comprehend and that wave is climbing once again, hurtling you towards that cliff. And now you are begging - pleading that he does not stop and leave you wanting. His name falls freely from you now, and endless mantra pleading for him to guide you into the sweep of fire and bliss. 

You barely feel it approaching. Suddenly your body is tensing, going rigid underneath the curl of his tongue and your thighs clamp around his head while you sob through the convulsions wracking through you. Completely swept up in a tide of heat and electricity. But he has not pulled away from your cunt, still nuzzled between the clutch of your thighs while he drinks your come with a satisfied sigh. The vibrations of it combined with the idle way that he continues to lap at you despite the sensitivity and it has your muscles twitching in response. 

"Morpheus, please. " You gasp underneath him, and he finally pulls back from you, albeit reluctantly before he is crawling over you, leaving gentle pecks across your body as he moves. And you can still feel those phantom touches across you, but they are feather light now, melting into the background as his lips meet yours in a hungry kiss. It has you moaning into his mouth, and even with your recent orgasm you can already feel a syrupy heat building up within you coaxing the gentle rock of your hips. You can taste yourself on his lips, earthy and somewhat sweet. The weight of his arousal presses against you from underneath his robes, heavy and hot and the Dreaming thrums with his want, the soil trembling beneath you both. 

You reach a hand down to paw at him through the dark fabric of his chlamys and the smoky, ragged groan that escapes him is a reward all in its own. And you were right. The sound of his breathless, rumbling satisfaction is something that you will never tire of hearing, and you are already desperate to drag more from him. But what truly has your attention is the length of him. You are unable to see it from the cover of his robes, but you can feel it, the thickness of it, the length. And you drag your thumb around its head, the cloth clinging to the shape of his cock from the precum leaking from the tip. He jerks in your hand, breaking your kiss to duck his face into the crook of your neck, sucking at the skin, prompting you to moan breathlessly. 

"I need you inside of me. " You whisper unsteadily. 

"Take what you need. " Comes his response as he mouths along your neck, taking your ear lobe into his mouth and pulling it between his teeth. Just as yours had, his robes vanish from his body, baring himself for you admire. And admire you do. Gazing upon the milky hue of his skin. The lithe muscle that ripple and flex and the added detail of blue vessels spidering underneath his flesh. Your eyes drop lower, settling on his cock, and the tip has flushed red from his arousal, and you briefly entertain the idea of taking him into your mouth, tasting him on your tongue as he had done to you. But the throbbing heat that has settled between your thighs is the only thing that keeps you from doing so. You need finally feel him and so you are gently pushing at his chest, guiding him to remove his head from your neck and to lie on his back. And he allows you to so - a god obeying your wishes. 

His gaze does not stray from you, even as he settles against the ground and allows you to climb astride his lap. Now that you are here atop him you find yourself wavering under the intimidation of your self-imposed task. It is a stupid thing to be fearful of. You have done this before. But those was a man, not an immortal deity that has seen centuries come and go, watched curiously as humanity's ancestors evolved and give way to empires the ultimately rose and fell. You are sure that he has lain with deities beyond your comprehension. Gods and goddesses, nymphs and spirits, pure divine beings from the heavens. How could you compare? How could you possibly please him? Would he want you even as a tainted woman? 

And as though he can sense your discomfort, he sweeps his hands along your hips, the action breaking through your internal struggle, and he is once sitting himself up enough to plant a kiss between the valley of your breasts. And then he is guiding you to look down on him with the gentle brush of his fingers, fixing your attention solely on him. 

"Take what you need. " He reiterates. But it is not said in a scathing or annoyed way, it is gentle, loving you want to believe, and you nearly melt against him. Those ghostly touches are back, no doubt an attempt to draw you out of your head. And it is working to stoke the fire, the fervor returning to your bones, but your mind still struggles to return you, still tangled within the confines of your insecurities. You could not manage to pin them down no matter how hard you tried to. 

"Speak to me, " he murmurs against your skin. "What troubles you?" 

"I - " you choke around the shakiness in your chest. You want to speak but it is difficult to do so around the rock in your throat, the disconnect between your head and your tongue stalling the words before they can even truly form. He begins to circle his thumbs against your hips. It is no longer sexual but completely tender, meant to coax your feelings from you rather than your desire and it does serve to ground you somewhat, offering you some clarity to articulate yourself. " I - you do know that I'm not . . . " You trail off and you attempt to meet his curious gaze, but you find your own quickly darting away, scanning the kaleidoscope fields that surrounds you like it might help you find your courage.  " . . . What if I'm not good enough?" 

His expression becomes stormy.  Something menacing and severe and it is a stark reminder of the darker side of his nature. He had been so gentle and giving with you that it had been easy to forget the depths of his anger, and for a moment you had feared that you somehow managed to offend him personally. His lips have pursed in that cross way, his eyebrows pinched, and you would have anticipated him molding himself into wicked shadows and talons, if not for the flash of something soft showing through the cosmic blue of his eyes. 

"Have I not worshiped you thoroughly enough?" He asks, but he does not necessarily sound affronted out of concern of his own pride but rather disappointed that he did not please you. The mere notion of that could make you scoff; you were certain that he ruined you for anyone else. No man would be able to touch you in the way that he had. And now you were opening your mouth to reassure him, but he is responding before you can utter a single word. " Then allow me to rectify my transgressions." 

And you whole heartedly expect him to once again knock you on your back and take you, but he does not. He keeps you secured on his lap, grip firm but not controlling and fixes you with a stare that seems to hold you open and reach inside, melting at your frayed vulnerabilities. "Now. Take what you need."  His voice has dipped into something deep and orotund, clearly enunciating to make sure that his intent is clearly broadcasted. And the intensity that he projects is enough to pull you back into the moment, his power coursing over the Dreaming and rippling at its seams. But it is more than that too. He has been nothing but gentle with you this entire night. Patient. Without judgement. And it is as though he has been plucking you apart piece by broken piece, stuffing you full of sunlight and helping you mend your shattered edges. Not fixed or magically repaired, but it is the closest you have felt to peace and adoration in a long time. And you feel like you are choking on the affection that he openly displays. The want and the need. 

You become startlingly aware of the way that your cunt drips, come smearing the insides of your thighs while that warm honeyed ache steadily thrums within your abdomen. And it is difficult to ignore it now. The sheer scope of your desire could smother you, threatening to take you under and drown you. Everything else after that is instinctual -needy. You take his face in your hands, smashing your lips to his in a bruising kiss trying your best to project your emotions into the exchange of tongue and teeth, stroking the sharp edges of his cheek bones with the same reverence that he had shown you. And you blindly reach down to take the rigid heat of him in your grip, throbbing and wet with a steady flow of precum, and he rewards you with a heady groan when you circle your thumb around the leaking slit of his cock. 

You are quick to line him up with your entrance, and without little fanfare sink down onto him. The relief that comes with the fulness of his girth tears ragged sighs from the both of you.  And you give yourself little time to adjust before your already working yourself down his length, toes curling when the blunt head of his cock brushes against that devastating spot inside of you that has you jerking from him to gasp into the night. And unable to ignore the all-consuming passion that takes you over, the pulsing, electrifying power that permeates around Morpheus you draw yourself up with the strength of your thighs, using the push you can achieve from planting your feet on the ground to bounce on his cock in a hedonistic display. 

It is debased and vulgar, fucking out in an open field, in the soil like animals. Completely lewd, but so right. 

Morpheus lies back against the ground on his own accord, reclining like spoiled royalty and allowing you to plant your hands on his chest to assist you to deepen each thrust, letting you take from him. And already his name is spilling from your lips like a hymn while you watch the Dream King with rapt attention, enthralled by every minute expression that flickers across his schooled features. The way that his eyebrows pinch together, how dim but eager pants puff past his open mouth, the dazed sort of pleasure that shows in his eyes while he gazes upon you like you're a deity that has descended down from Mount Olympus, a nymph fashioned from Aphrodite herself to encapsulate his every wish. 

And those delicious, invisible hands have returned to roam about your body in their sweet exploration, plucking at your body like it is an instrument that they have played for years. The sound of your coupling rings across the Dreaming, the smack skin against skin, your unrestrained moans. It all has that thick, deep-rooted ache spreading further throughout your body, reaching from your core and all the way to your fingertips and toes. But there is something missing, a nudge needed to push you over the edge. "Morpheus, " you cry weakly, thighs already beginning to sting from exertion, but you refuse to stop, continuing to drop yourself on his cock, working tight circles with your hips with each descent. 

You can see something smug bleeding into his features, your neediness nurturing his hubris, and his lips quirk in just the faintest hints of a barely there smile. 

"What is it, my love?" He asks, feigning ignorance and it irritates you how put together he sounds, voice having dropped into a low, rumbling cadence, but apart from that he sounds seemingly unaffected despite the glazed over quality to his gaze. You whimper around a particularly harsh thrust from him that has your back bowing, pushing your breasts into the palms of ghostly hands. Your eyes nearly go cross at the drag of his cock, but you manage to keep your concentration around the sweeping torrents of smoke and ecstasy. 

"Please!" you keen drunkenly. "Please, I need you! " 

A satisfied purr resonates underneath your palms and his pupils flash in that pale tantalizing, dangerous way and you cannot believe that the look of it had frightened you at some point. Now it only serves to pool more liquid heat down the base of your spine. A heaving mewl is all but punched out of you when he takes you by surprise, using his place along the ground to thrust up into you with wicked rolls from his hips. Fucking up into you with a ferocity that has you struggling to meet his pace, and you are hardly more than a passenger at this point. All coherence is stripped from you and your entire body feels like it has been doused in honey and fire, and the timbre of his raspy voice speaking out only serves to nudge you closer to your undoing. 

"You'll stay here with me, won't you?" 

"Yes!" You agreed in a slurred whine. 

"And you'll give yourself to me?"

"Yes!" You are near sobbing now, body jerking and writhing atop him while the phantom touches roll your nipples between soft fingertips, and his cock pumps into you with depraved, filthy squelches of your combined arousal. And that primordial energy is pulsating around the Dreaming. The same power that creates the ground you both lay upon, that fashions the field and the sky above you too, permeating from the deity that is currently fucking every shred of a possible thought from your brain. And the power feels charged now, like it is growing and expanding into something great, seeping into your skin and soaking your bones. Then a transparent grip is taking your jaw between its fingers, directing your gaze to the god underneath you, and another slips down your stomach, reaching down to drag tight circles around your neglected clit. 

"Then come." It is a command that your body cannot ignore, seizing up tight, trapping the strangled wail deep inside your lungs while your mouth hangs open in a silent scream. Your eyes roll into the back of your skull, stars exploding against the darkness there and you lose all sense of tangibility.  Your sense of time, place and self slip from perception like water pouring through spread fingers, and now you are just floating. Caught in bursting cosmos, pinned before the scalding light of the sun, caught in a torrent of arresting, unyielding rapture. And your cunt clamps down his cock like it means to milk him for all he is worth, your orgasm ushering him into his own and thankfully your coherence begins to return to you in time for you to admire him while he is subjected to the throes of his pleasure. And you are still gasping and moaning while his thrusts become sloppy and uncoordinated, observing as his eyelashes flutter and his mouth opens for a long husky moan to escape him as the warmth of his release pools inside of you. 

You all but collapse on top of him in a boneless heap and your cunt spasming weakly around his spent length but neither of you make any effort to move. Simply basking in the afterglow of your highs. It is your sense of touch and hearing that serve to orient you. The distant crash of waves rushing over the surf, the whisper of the breeze dancing across the grass and blossoms. And you can feel him underneath you. His chest is moving with a breath that you are certain is simulated for your own comfort, an attempt to appear more human. But he feels too heated and simultaneously too cold to be a person, like he has no idea which temperature to project. But you decide that it is not at all unpleasant, instead it feels good against your feverish skin. 

But you still wait for the sting of disappointment to strike you - for disgust to bleed and taint the satisfaction now that the lust has died, but it never rises to meet you. And so, you rest, satiated upon your god. Pliant like melted wax. But there is the insistent nudge of something burrowing at you. Concern, you quickly identify. And it has your sluggish mind wandering back to the root of the thought, trailing after it until it finds the conclusion which takes that shape of a memory. The memory of perhaps the only companion you have ever known, and it is bitter and sour reminder that they may not even be alive anymore. That centuries may have passed during your brief stay in the Dreaming, and that they may have succumbed to the passage of time. 

"What ails you now?" 

You want to say that it is nothing, sweep it aside and ignore it while it festers and grows. But you know now that he will not accept nothing as an answer, not when he can possibly feel your distress across the threads of the Dreaming. You feel foolish in your answer, but it is the only one that you can manage. " My cat. " 

"Your . . . cat. " He echoes slowly, and you are certain that amusement is lacing his tone. You bristle a bit preparing to defend yourself, your right for being worried, but he is nudging you from his chest so that you may see each other as you speak. 

"I can assure you that your companion is safe. He's quite content." He says. His gentle mirth still very much alive, but you do not return his light-hearted attitude, waiting with bated breath for him to answer the question that hangs heavy in the air. And a part of you fears that he may have somehow managed to converse with Death of the Endless, or that he was still connected to the passage of time that operates outside of the Dreaming and was able to deduce that the feline had long since passed, joining Teleute in the Sunless Lands. But then he is brushing a hand along his side, drawing your attention to his ribs where the skin there ripples like the surface of a disturbed lake, and a set of angry jagged scars emerge from the mirage, appearing across his pale skin, spanning from his armpit down to the notch of his hipbone. It is hauntingly familiar. The placement, the number of claw mark left in stretched healed tissue. One, two, three . . . four, you count. 

You understand what it is that he is implying. And betrayal sinks its enamel into your heart, but the bite is shockingly dull and not the unforgiving split that you were expecting. And you can tell that he is calculating something, surely waiting for you to lash out. To scream at him and demand that he take you home. Perhaps that is what you should do. But you do not. "How? Why did you- a cat?" Is all you manage, more perplexed than irate. 

"I had been injured by an old foe of mine, " he explains, allowing you to curl into his side, curiously running your fingertips over the marred flesh. And you have suppress a shudder, wondering what sort of being could be strong enough to injure an Endless. A god. "As for why I assumed that particular form, I needed to conserve energy. It was small. Familiar. It served to save much needed strength. " 

There has always been something strange about that cat and his watchful stare. Admittedly you had always swallowed down the suspicion that prickled at you whenever he had curled up within your house, but you had been too desperate for some sort of friendship to truly question anything. The barrage of emotions flooding you, making you a muddled unsure mess, but one thing that you do know for certain is that you are completely and undeniably relieved. And truthfully you are still far too tired, simply uncaring to have been tricked by the god. You are happy- actually well and truly happy to embrace the joy and serenity. 

"And then there was you, " he murmurs in your ear, devout and soft. 

The both of you remain there for an insurmountable length of time. Lounging in each other's embrace, delighting in your shared presence. Listening to the peaceful noise of the Dreaming and the warmth of your lover. And for the first time that icy gapping pit of loneliness no longer gnaws and tears at you. You finally feel at home, and the desire to flee and leave eludes you. Perhaps because you have finally found a place to belong.  

Here with him. 

#morpheus x reader #morpheus x you #dream x reader #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman x reader #the sandman x you #dream the endless #the sandman #netflix sandman

[redheadspark]

Hello!! Could I possibly request Rhys from ACOTAR with prompts #6 and #8?

Hope you’re doing well and taking care of yourself💜💜

A/N - This is cute for Rhsyand! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Carry

Summary - Rhsyand would do anything to make you happy, including scaring your ex.

Warnings - a mix of angst and fluff

“Let me guess…..the meeting went well?”

You glare at your mate as he leans against the open doorframe into your personal study, watching you nurse a glass of wine and rest your elbows on the desk as you were rubbing your temples in both tiredness and frustration from earlier in the day.  With the moon hanging high in the night sky and the upcoming snow threatening to come from the mountains, River House was ready for winter.  Most of the house was already decorated for Winter Solstice, though you weren’t in the best of spirits thanks to your ex.  You had to have a meeting with him, you being the High Lady in Night Court and your ex being the Head of Security from Winter Court.  High Lord Kallias, though firm as a ruler and yet kind, wished to have his Head of Security accompany your meeting with his mate Viviane.  You and Viviane were on the best of terms, which was surprising to see your ex as the new hire.  Of course, Viviane knew nothing about your old relationship, and you never showed it throughout your meeting and the scheduling of upcoming events.  

It was when Vivian left the room when your ex decided to open his mouth.  That did it.

“No one was informed that Damon was the new hire, my dear,” Rhsyand reassured you as he walked into your office, grabbing a chair to pull behind him to sit next to you while you were looking over some of the documents that were perched on the desk, “it was only after you left that Kallias told me, and he sends his apologies for bringing you discomfort.”

“It wasn’t his fault,” You hummed, your eyes still scanning over the words to mostly distract yourself, “He had no clue that Damon and I used to be a couple, nor did he know that Damon was the one who broke it off with me,”

“His loss then,” Rhysand said with a shrug and a smirk on his lips, you looking over at him as he cocked his own head at you and his signature grin was evident, “I wished to see the look on his face when he saw you, the High Lady of Night Court,”

“I’d rather go through training with Cassian blindfolded than ever encounter him again,” You grumbled, Rhsyand tutted as he scooted a bit closer to where you were at your desk.  Breathing in the musky scent that was along his shirt, feeling his body heat along your own skin, it was already calming to you as he reached over to lace your fingers gently together on top of the desk.  He knew how to ground you when you were stressed out or not in the best headspace, he read you like a book and knew exactly how to take care of you.  Far before you were mates, which happened instantly after meeting each other when you fled Winter Court to Night Court, Rhysand knew your soul was beyond tender from past heartbreak and betrayal.  

“I’ll come with you next time if he’s there,” Rhysand reassured you as you glared at him.

“I can face my ex on my own,” You started to argue with him as he shook his head.

“That is not what I meant,” he hummed, you scanning his violet eyes as he squeezed your hands a bit tighter, “I merely wish to be there to take on some of the load that you carry, merely because you already have a lot on your plate as it is,”

“Rhys, I can handle it,” You reasoned, seeing him sigh and he leaned his shoulder against yours.  A small peck of his lips on your nose made him smile.

“Why do you always think you have to do everything on your own?” He asked you with a hint of coyness, “You know I’m here to help carry the load, both the light and the heavy load.”

“I know, my love,” You replied wholeheartedly, “I’m just….not used to letting someone else care of me,”

Rhysand knew of your past, being raised by your single mother and then living on your own for a good amount of time.  Food barely on the table and working long hours in the farm fields, then working just as hard on relationships that were only half fulfilled by your ex-partners.  Damon included, who was infatuated with a far prettier fae and left you for her because of it.  You always felt as though you had to carry heavy loads on your own, needing to face your own burdens and not have others take them on.

But being married to the High Lord of Night Court meant that your burden and work load instantly evaporated.  Rhysand made sure of that, from the moment you two were mates he made sure you never had to lift a single finger when it came to getting what you wanted or needed.  You were waited on hand and foot, much to your dismay, but that was Rhysand’s way of taking care of you and loving you.

Even after 600 years of marriage, he still loved you fiercely.

“You’ve always been strong for me,” Rhysand reminded you as he tucked a stray hair behind your hair with a simple bush of his finger, “Let me return the favor,”

That alone made you raise your brow at him, knowing fully well that your husband and mate must have had something up his sleeve. If there was one thing you knew about Rhysand, it was his great knack for brewing up a plan that could stir up a bit of drama.  Mostly for fun and for his amusement, but also for a purpose.  And if there was another thing that you knew about the High Lord of Night Court, it was his devotion to you.

If anyone crossed his mate, it was a death sentence.

“What did you have in mind?” You asked him, seeing him shrug simply as he took your wine glass to take a small sip.

“Leave it to your mate,” He replied as he handed you his glass again and gave you a small kiss on the lips.

“I’m glad we’re meeting again, Kallias.  We have much to discuss,”

“Of course, Rhsyand.”

You were sitting next to your husband as you were both in the meeting room at River House, the first snowfall hitting Velaris while the High Lord and Lady of Winter Court were on the opposite side of the table from you.  It was a few days after your talk to Rhysand.  In fact, he called the meeting with Winter Court the morning after when he made sure you were going to sleep in for the morning, clearing your schedule for the entire day, and then wishing to dote on you after he quick message to Kallias. 

You were wondering why he would wish to meet at your home, though he gave a brief explanation to debriefing the new Court negotiations and safety protocol, not to mention the Community Centers you and Viviane were in charge of in your respected Courts.  

But that also meant Damon would be in attendance.  You were already not looking forward to the meeting because of that, even though you loved the company of the High Lord and Lady of Winter Court and the details you were going to go over. But your mate, always a step ahead, had something up his sleeve. 

You were sporting a more casual dress for the meeting, one of the ones Rhysand gifted you for your birthday a century ago that showed off your curves and the highlights in your hair.  He matched in a dark suit himself, lacing your fingers together on top of the table with the stacked papers that were going to be discussed over while Kallias and Viviane were in their own Winter Court Tavel clothes.  

Damon in his leathers was right behind them, his hands folded behind him as he was perched in the corner and eyeing both yourself and Rhsyand.  You could sense the tensity in the room from his eyes going a bit wide at the appearance of Rhysand, there were whispers of his disbelief and slight discomfort years back when you and Rhysand became mates.  Viviane even said to you at your wedding ceremony that Damon seemed rather mad at the thought of you two being together, but that was merely the past.

You knew at that table that Rhysand had a motive with Damon, mostly because he crossed a line with his wife.

“I think we should go over safety with our borders,” Rhysand explained, you looked over at him as he was gesturing to the top of the stack of papers with his signature smile on his lips, “Although a lot of the Courts are at peace now since the war, there is always a slim chance of our safety being compromised.  With the allegiance that we have, I think we should stay a step ahead,”

“I have no problem with that,” Kallias hummed in reply, gesturing to Damon behind him, “Damon has recruited plenty more soldiers for our patrols,”

Damon gave a small tilt of his head as a friendly gesture to Rhysand, though he briefly looked over at you before he looked ahead again.  You felt Rhysand squeeze your hand gently, no one else noticing but you as your husband spoke up again.

“We are more than willing to have some of the Illyrian soldiers that are ready from our camps to come help with the training,” Rhysand suggested, “In fact, our Spymaster himself has some great ideas that he would love to talk over with Damon,”

As if on cue, you heard the door opening to the left, you all looked over to see Azriel coming into the room swiftly with his shadows attached to his tucked wings.  You felt the sense of tension heighten in the room, mostly from the Winter Court side of the table and from Damon himself. HIs body langue alone was stiffer than a few seconds before, his eyes drilled on the Spymaster as Azriel walked over to stand right behind you in your chair.  

You almost felt a lick of his shadows along your shoulder as his intense hazel eyes were on Damon, giving you a small sense of comfort as he was showing no sign of mercy to your ex.  Even Rhysand smiled widely, then talked to Kallias to start the meeting while Azriel and Damon were staring at each other with the table in the middle. Perhaps Rhysand was using this point now as a distraction for him and Kallias to start their meeting, your eyes drifting back and forth from him to Damon. 

You saw it instantly, Damon was sweating bullets.

Azriel was a friend to you, being your escort on court visits in the past and he had helped train you in some self defense skills. But the one thing you loved about Azriel was his loyalty to Night Court, specifically to Rhysand. They both had history since they were mere children, Azriel willing to go to the ends of the world for him.

Which meant he would do the same for you.

You were half listening to the meeting at hand, yet your mind was occupied elsewhere . Although you couldn’t see him since he was still standing right behind your chair, Azriel must have been giving Damon his infamous stare. The stare of intimidation, of power, of distinct knowledge he could kill him with a snap of the neck if he tried anything with his High Lady

Damon gulped. He got the message loud and clear

You had to smile, knowing fully well this was Rhysand’s doing.  You loved him ten times more.

The End.

#rhysand x reader #rhysand #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you #rhysand x oc #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of wings and ruin #acomaf #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acosf #acowar

[overnowsfcb]

santa doesn't know you like i do; trent alexander-arnold blurb

summary: he would always have a throne in your heart. was it okay to see blurry lines?

warnings: none just fluff, reader and trent are dumb

note: FINALLY I WROTE FLUFF BRING THE CHAMPAGNE — venus 🫂💐🫧

Trent had claimed a permanent residence in your heart, an undisputed ruler of your daydreams since your teenage years.

Despite attempts to move on, dating other guys, and even enduring his tales of romantic conquests, your soul continued to ache for the one thing it craved the most—his love, a fragile hidden secret handled with discomfort in your mind as if it was an uninvited guest.

But the balance was neutralized by his hypnotic ways of keeping that worship of him in your brain: moments when his comments stick out details about you would come with a deepened voice, his pupils dilated at your presence, and the magnet that pushed your bodies to get close every time you were in the same place. Actions that left you wondering if those gestures were genuine or just part of his flirtatious nature.

The melody of his laugh painted shooting stars in your night sky carving it in your mind if the reason behind were your jokes. And you could recall the times he found in your chest a place when he could let go of the pressure and his tears. You were too late to intend to hit the brakes now.

Laughter echoed within the living room walls, the faux snow in the tree placed in a corner resembling the snowflakes falling outside. You had invited Trent over to help you decorate the house.

He held the ladder for you, even though you didn't need it, but you had asked him to make you feel more secure as you placed the Christmas baubles and the star on top of the tree standing on your tiptoes, finishing up the decorations. He began applauding accompanying your celebrations when you had finally completed your task.

He stepped away from the ladder to let you descend, and you hugged him, running your hands over his neck, catching a whiff of his cologne. He wrapped his hands around your waist as he welcomed your embrace. “Thank you,” you whispered, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“You're welcome, my love.” The once comforting and typical nickname, now sparkled a new connotation while he caressed your temple as he looked at you with appreciation in his eyes, building a new pathway in an indecipherable labyrinth, confusing you even more.

Sometimes you considered giving up, settling down in the middle of the road, leaving everything in part to your convenience, because if you admitted that he may be hiding the same things that you were experiencing you would be afraid to face the consequences of turning your most cherished friendship into something that could go anywhere.

You sat on the couch, hot coffee cup in your hands, protective blanket over your bodies against the winter chill, Home Alone played on the TV, you laid your head on his shoulder, admiring how beautiful the house was with the Christmas spirit imprinted on it. Love rushing in your veins.

You looked up at him discreetly. He was focused on the movie while sipping the hot chocolate in his mug, and for an instance, the soldier in you ignited, putting braveness in your shoulders.

“Trent,” you called out, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as he gazed expectantly at you. Yet, as you pondered the words in your heart, you shook your head gently. “You're the best friend I could ask for,” your voice lowering, a wistful smile on your lips. Holding back your feelings once again as an eternal hostage.

You wondered if someday, the courage to express them would find its way to you. And Trent would think that too.

Each cell of your bodies acting like spectators waiting for you to materialize the scenes entangled in your minds. “You mean a lot to me, love.”

#trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold imagine #trent alexander arnold x you #trent alexander arnold fluff #football x reader #football fluff #trent alexander arnold blurb

[lilhub]

So. What's up with the duplicate statues in Eden?

If you've played Sky: Children of the Light and gone through The Ascent, you may have noticed these statues:

And you'll know that the Vault has the same exact statues:

Now the question we're asking here is why.

Of course, I have a theory in regards to it that ties into a couple of other theories, but it's gonna be long and probably a little complicated, so buckle up.

TL;DR will be at the bottom of the post for a simpler(and less all over the place) explanation!

Now, I'm going to start at the beginning with something that may seem completely unrelated:

Take a look at the top of this broken building in the Battlefield.

Does it look familiar? It should.

It looks like the vault masks.

That's odd though, isn't it? The Vault Elder is, well, the Vault Elder. They belong in the Vault.

To that I say: what if they weren't always there?

What if that building used to be their temple?

Almost every other Elder has their own building that serves as their temple and little else; why would the Vault Elder be any different? They're certainly just as important as every other Elder, so why would they be singled out?

Some more evidence for the broken building being an Elder's temple?

Look here, in The Seed's spirit memory:

The spirit was a medic that treated and aided soldiers on the battlefield, and this displays them in a Medic's tent. Where? In the broken building.

Other than it being the arguably safest structure aside from the Vault, there's...no real reason for it to be here of all places. They could have had it anywhere else; this is in the thick of the fighting, after all, the entire map is called the Battlefield for a reason. But there's a reason it was here.

Why?

Well, the Elder's temples are sacred. They're holy places, not to be trifled with, even in the midst of a war, they're like churches. And what was guaranteed if you took shelter in a church?

Sanctuary.

Unfortunately, this doesn't guarantee its outside will be particularly safe from conflict, especially toward the end of the war. Survival began to matter more than walls, I suspect, and it's clear from the Lookout Scout's memory sequence that even then, this place was broken down; potentially from Dark Dragons, potentially from the Ancestors. Unfortunately, we currently have no way of knowing for sure.

On the topic of placements and symbolism in the Battlefield map, though: there's also all of this imagery of the King leading up to the Wasteland Elder's temple.

Let me suggest to you the following as an answer to why:

Eden was not always the primary residence of the King.

Before you grab your torches and pitchforks, hear me out. The Eden Castle was not always there, and this is explicitly shown in the Aurora concert during Warrior, but also the fourth quest in Season of Passage:

No castle.

Now, what does this mean for the King? Well, logically they should have them residing in the otherwise safest place in the Kingdom—like, perhaps, a Vault.

Now we're getting somewhere.

Let's go back to the statues.

Many theorize that they're graves, due to the fact that there's one in each temple and when you sit, you're taken to the respective cutscenes that feature the Elders in their limbos. I disagree.

I think they were communication lines. Every Elder will need to contact one another at some point, and other than the Windpaths, there's really no shortcuts through the realms; thus, the statues function as telephones in a home network, if you will. If one person picks up the line while others are having a conversation, they can listen in as well.

Who needs to have a way to contact every single Elder?

The King.

A ruler needs to be able to conveniently contact the others that help them run a kingdom, especially at a moment's notice, and phones don't exactly exist in the Kingdom. Thusly following the path of logic here, wherever the King is, there should be each statue for each corresponding Elder.

Once the castle became the primary residence of the King, now that the Vault Elder was no longer close by, there was a statue added to the arrangement; this also explains why it's just sat in the middle of them instead of up with the rest.

There is one other thing, though.

What's up with the Wasteland Elder?

After all, if the Vault was the primary residence of the King, and the statues support that, then why and how does the Wasteland Elder come to inhabit that building?

I have a few thoughts on that too.

Let's take a look at the Wasteland Elder, for starters.

They look like a soldier. Which is no surprise, really, seeing as they were in charge of what is now the Wasteland, and the war that seems to have primarily taken place there.

I have another thought though.

The King needs a guard, or more accurately, the Prince does. Sure, there is plenty of power when you are the King, but before that they was a Prince, and there are always precautions that should be taken with the future ruler of your Kingdom.

From what little we see of their character, the Wasteland Elder is protective. Defensive. Willing to do anything to safeguard what lay beyond that gate. They had to learn from somewhere. That instinct has to come from somewhere, because they clearly have worked themselves to the point of absolute exhaustion in their efforts to safeguard that gate.

To this, I ask you: what better protection is there for a Prince than a Star?

Of course, once the Prince becomes a King, and Eden is more than adequate as a safe spot for them, this Star needs to be put somewhere else.

And the Wasteland still needs a protector. After all, the Dark Dragons at this point must be becoming a problem, and Darkstone production is likely growing larger and larger by the day; the people need someone to keep them safe and reassure them that all will be okay.

Who better than a Star that already knows everything about protection and defense? Who has the necessary experience? Who has likely had to manage other guards that helped protect the Prince?

TL;DR: Before the fall of the kingdom, while the King was still a Prince, before the Castle was built the Prince resided in the Vault. And before the conflict in the Wasteland, the Vault Elder's temple was the broken building we now see in the Battlefield. This explains both the King imagery leading up to (what is now)the Wasteland Temple(which also doubles as the entrance to the Vault) and the symbol atop the broken building that resembles the Vault masks.

During the period of time before the Prince became the King, the Wasteland Elder was assigned as their protector, explaining their intense need to defend the Vault 'til their last breath. Afterward, once the Prince becomes King, they are reassigned as the Guardian of the Wasteland, charged with overseeing its people and the Darkstone production taking place there.

Because of the fact that the King resided in the Vault and the Eden Castle, there are versions of each Elder's statue in both places due to them potentially being communication lines instead of graves. Or, at least, they used to be communication lines and were turned into graves for the Fallen Stars after the Fall of the Kingdom. This also explains why each statue takes us to that specific Elder's limbo space; they still, technically, function for their intended purpose.

Of course, this is all just one huge theory made up of a bunch of smaller theories and doesn't have the greatest evidence but. Alas! I am prone to overthinking details in the Funny Light Game.

#sky children of the light #sky cotl theory #sky theory #skyblr #is this my brain doing the pepe silva meme? SOLID MAYBE #but alas I cannot help it. I see Odd Things and desperately search for Explanations #of course this very well could be the devs reusing assets for. whatever reason. I have no clue why #but for now it wORKS #sky children of the light theory

[fishnets-fingers]

Forbidden Hours

“Sounds like someone’s projecting,” he says, voice laced with honey.

“I’m not projecting anything.”

“Sounds like what you’re saying is that you’re jealous that I have the confidence to partake in intercourse and you’re a bumbling virgin-“

“I’ve read all of the volumes of the Kamasutra. I know my way around when I need to engage in coitus for reproduction,” she cuts him off.

“Oh, sweet sweet Princess,” he whispers, using her title condescendingly. “Sex is more than just reproduction.” He strides towards her.

PAIRING - spy!harry x princess!y/n

a/n - happy first day of 2023! this is my first time writing historical fiction. it’s loosely inspired by a movie, particularly this scene. it’s not historically accurate in the slightest. you can read more about the chola dynasty here. don’t know how many parts this would have but i’m hoping to write more of these two’s dynamic. if you have any ideas, let me know. as always, like and reblog. feed back is not only appreciated but much welcome. happy reading!

Word Count - 4.2k (not proofread)

MASTERPOST | PART TWO

….

நிழல். Shadow. That was his nickname among the royal heirs. He was quiet, swift, inconspicuous, and nimble - camouflaging himself in vast rooms and gathering intel. There wasn’t a room in the kingdom he couldn’t weasel himself in; whether that be up on the roof, scaling walls, or hidden in the dark - where candle lights don’t flicker.

Growing up as the son of a British sea merchant, Harry learned that there wasn’t much for a young boy to do in the cramped quarters of the ship. He’d lost his mother the moment he took his first breath. There wasn’t a lot of maternal warmth in his life but that wasn’t to say that he wasn’t loved. He was loved in a different way, his father kept him close during the wuthering nights at sea often pointing out constellations in the night sky to remind him that life had far more in store for him than the fervent passing waves of the sea. But he was also a man that did not believe in making mistakes, so whenever Harry got in trouble, he was asked to scrub the deck floor clean until his hands bled. He learnt his way around a sword from the crewmen. Travelling to different ports of the world also meant learning different forms of combat and gathering information from people of different cultures. Stewing in a ship with ten men for months meant no entertainment, so he began sifting for stories and used their weakness and strengths against them to gain favours.

He docked on Chozhamandalam when he was twenty and was greeted with a red swallowtail flag with a pouncing tiger on it. He grew to love the people of Kaveripattinam - the bustle of the markets, the chortle of the children running about, the welcoming people, and the way art was particularly celebrated in this small port town, and the princess he set his sights on his third day of being docked there. He’s heard of royalty. Lots of royalty. Cruel rulers. Compassionate rulers. Ostentatious rulers. Modest rulers. Heard. But he’s never seen one in the flesh. Until that day.

A crowd gathered near the temple, murmurs of visiting royals spread like wildfire, and when he’d caught wind of it, he couldn’t resist. Ten soldiers walked first clearing the path, two on horses and sheathed swords followed, then came ten men bearing the weight of a palanquin. It wasn’t an ordinary palanquin, this particular one was grandiose, shimmering in gold and stained glass but the insides were draped in silk to obstruct the view of the onlookers. The Queen Mother exited first, greeting the townspeople and that’s when Harry saw her - the Princess Regnant, the one third in line to the throne. He found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the way her lips curled up in an inviting smile. Harry has seen many a sight in his life but none would compare to the way the royal blue silk saree draped around her body made her skin shimmer; it reminded him of how the first light of the sun would glint and glimmer on the steady ocean water. Her eyes were dark, like the deepest part of the sea where light does not enter. She was adorned in gold, hair piled up into a tall bun that was decorated with jasmine flowers. Their temple visit was brief, the Princess joined her grandmother thanking people for their well wishes before being escorted into the temple premises. It was her eighteenth birthday, so a feast was prepared for everyone in town. As the crowd dissipated to head to the town hall for the royal lunch, Harry lingered wanting to catch sight of the Princess again. He managed to climb a peepal tree that towered over the south entrance of the temple. He saw her again, only this time being told off by the guard as she tried to reach over to pluck a blooming lotus from the temple pond. She huffed in response settling down on the step, so the water lapped at her feet, guiding a tadpole trapped in a water bubble on the lotus pad back into the water.

Three years later, he’d made himself a name in the kingdom. His path stumbled with the Crown Prince a month after arriving. He soon became his confidant, even earning a spot in his army. The Crown Prince, Vikram, was a skilled warrior often going off on conquests under the King’s orders to further expand the country. The youngest Prince, Karthi, was sent to the island of Lanka to study apothecary and healing. And the middle heir, Princess Y/N, was known for her wisdom and strategic wit. She often presided in important meetings with the King and his counsel and implemented many strategies that helped triple the wealth of the dynasty and the well-being of the people. The first battle Harry rode alongside the Crown Prince, he was tasked with bringing home a note sent by the prince to his father detailing his plans on the war spoils to the King. Harry was entrusted with carrying secrets and messages to royalty and trusted members of the Crown. His knack of gathering information also came in handy and now was a spy for the royal heirs three years later.

Soon enough the nickname Shadow was bestowed upon him by Prince Karthi. There wasn’t a single room he couldn’t get into - even the castle. But the tower he was currently scaling was one he never had before - Princess Y/N’s chamber. It was forbidden to talk to her without supervision but in the dark of the night, he supposed it did not matter. His job description came with breaking rules and this particular information needed for her to be in the know sans protocols.

He hitched his leg up over the stone bannister and lurched his torso up to the terrace. Princess Y/N’s tower was away from the main dome of the royal vacation castle and he chalked it up for safety but now standing at her balcony, he understands why. The view was unbelievable - the vast expanse of the ocean was at his feet, calm waters painted silver with the full moon; it also overlooked her personal garden filled with coral jasmine, hibiscus, marigolds, and wildflowers. The ocean breeze carried over the fragrance of the flora straight to her room. It was well known that the princess was an avid gardener; he heard through the grapevine that oftentimes she’d sketch out the garden’s landscape plans and sometimes even join the workers to tend to the flower beds. Princes who came to court her from neighbouring territories would almost always bring a sapling of a flowering plant to gain affection.

One could get used to the view, he thinks, as he leans against the bannister one more time - the sounds of tides crashing over the shore soothe his nerves from his climb up. Being born with the golden spoon ain’t that bad. If the burden of duty came with such lavish living quarters, someone sign me the fuck up, Harry takes in the scenery before him before pushing off from it. His body instinctively makes his way to her, like a moth being drawn to a frame, or in this case a spy being drawn to the lavish canopy bed bathed in the buttery glow of candlelight. He stops in his tracks for the second time by the sight of her, not by the opulent beauty that she radiated when he first laid eyes on her but with fondness.

It’s not the Princess Regnant who’s fast asleep on her bed but Y/N. The same Y/N who bristles every time he’s in the room with her siblings. The same Y/N who straightens up her back and holds her chin up high when he cracks a joke to try and force a smile on her face.The same Y/N who looks away when he catches her eyeing him up as he hands over the sealed scroll sent by one of her brothers. It’s almost as if Harry is seeing her for the first time without any filters - except for the sheer white netted fabric that hangs around. She looks small without all the jewellery and silks. Hair raven and straight and long - longer than what he had anticipated - now that her hair has not been pinned up in a bun or bushed away from her face with intricate braids. She looks vulnerable - almost her age - a twenty one year old with a bare face that is not made up immaculately. She has dark circles under her eyes, and Harry deduces that it’s from reading all the books she has strewn over - opened - beside her on the satin sheets. Her lips are curled downwards; she frowns in her sleep and Harry has to try and fight the urge to reach over and smooth out the crinkle between her eyebrows.

He clears his throat, hoping she’ll wake up before he ends up touching her and landing himself in prison. She twitches in response, her steady deep breaths interrupted by a sharp inhale. He clears his throat again, louder this time, followed by, “Your royal highness.”

Y/N’s eyes flutter open, and she jolts up when she sees a tall figure standing beside her. “Who?” She asks, voice hoarse, eyes darting up over his broad chest.

“It’s me, Princess Y/N,” Harry answers.

“Mr. Styles.” Hand coming over to rub the sleep from her eye. “What are you doing here? In my chamber? You’re not allowed,” she states.

“I apologise, your majesty. I’ve been riding for five hours, ma’am. From the estate in the hills. Couldn’t risk having someone overhearing this for the sake of protocol,” he explains.

“So, was I right?” Y/N questions, shuffling out of her bed. Harry moves behind so she has the space to stand upright. “Are the governors convening?”

She gets no reply, making her flit her eyes up at his jade embers to find him staring at her body. Harry could make out the full curves of her breasts and hips with the flimsy white gown Y/N was wearing. Her nipples pebbled from the cold winds from the sea and peaks out the cotton fabric. She rolls her eyes, and snaps her fingers in front of his face to catch his attention. “I could have your eyes gouged out this instant, Harry Edward Styles! There are guards on the other side of this door.”

“Apologies, Princ-“

“You’re full of apologies tonight, aren’t you?” Y/N folds her arms, shielding her chest from his gaze.

“Sorry, Prin-“

Y/N laughs. “It’s far too late for formalities, Mr. Styles. Plus, they only apply to people who follow protocols and walk in through there,” she cocks her head to the carved wooden door. Considering you broke into my room by climbing my balcony, I reckon you can give it a rest. Call me Y/N.”

“Yes,” Harry nods. “Y/N,” he adds. Testing out the way her name rolls out of his mouth. He can’t help the way his dimples carve in his cheeks as the corner of his lips tug upward. I like it, he decides. He likes the way saying her name feels on his tongue, it’s rich and velvety and he wants to keep saying it again and again. “Please call me Harry.”

“Harry, tell me what you saw. Don’t leave out any details,” she orders, walking over to her desk.

Fucking shit, Harry shakes his head. How was he supposed to concentrate when the candles she was lighting only made the silhouette of her body more prominent. She could clearly see the swell of her bum and he’ll bet his entire fortune that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath other than that flimsy gown. He shamelessly lets his eyes rake up over her and his heart flutters when he meets her expenatant eyes, quill hovering over a parchment, urging him to vomit out what he knows.

“Yes. The Hill estate,” he clears his throat. “You’re right. Five governors held a secret meeting at midnight at the Bull temple. You know, the one that was destroyed last monsoon by a landslide.”

Y/N scoffs and lets out a chuckle of disbelief. “Of course, they pick the most obvious spot. Were you able to get a good look at who these governors are?”

“Yes. Do you want me to list them out?”

“Please,” she says, writing down each of the names that Harry listed. He walks closer to where she was hunched over, writing. Harry’s not surprised to see the elegance in her script.

“Impressive. Nice handwriting,” he comments.

“Hardly something to be impressed by, Harry.”

“Well, Y/N, it’s better than mine.”

“If you had tutors from all over the world, I’m sure your script will look just as impressive,” she adds.

“Of course.” He nods. “The meeting. The governors are unhappy with the decree to build schools using the tax money they’re collecting.”

“Of course they are,” she mumbles. “They’re all for taxes when they can use it to fatten themselves up but ask them to spend it on the children of their districts, they are suddenly unhappy with the new system implemented.”

“That’s not all.” Harry opens a silver box and pops a date into his mouth.

“Help yourself,” Y/N comments, shaking her head at his lack of etiquette. Harry’s face flushes with pink and he can feel the tips of his ears getting hot.

“It’s a long journey back here,” he tells her, avoiding her eyes in embarrassment and on cue his stomach rumbles.

Y/N eyes soften. “There are fruits in the basket. And here.” She walks over pulling out a glass jar filled with jujubes from the drawer by her bedside and brings it over to him.

“You have gummies in your drawer,” he notes, smirking at the half eaten jar of sugar coated coloured candy.

“I have a bit of a sweet tooth,” she tells him with a shy smile. He props himself on the table and she makes her way to her desk, watching him eat.

“Harry,” she calls out. “You said that’s not all,” she prompts.

“Your Uncle was there,” he tells her quietly, not wanting anyone to hear.

“My Uncle?” She asks, alarmed. “Can’t be.”

“I saw him, Y/N. He came in shrouded in a black cloak. He’s sired an offspring he said. Claimed that his son had a right to the throne. That’s as much as what was said before they dispersed.”

“You’re positive?”

“Are you implying that I’m being dishonest?”

“I’m not implying anything,” Y/N snaps. “I just want you to be sure.”

“I saw him with my own two eyes, Y/N. I was taken aback too. Both Princes speak of him fondly.”

“Seems like there’s a conspiracy afoot,” Y/N says, almost to herself.

“I’ll let Prince Vikaram know immediately,” he informs.

“Don’t. He’s hot headed. God knows he’ll come charging to the capital and stick a knife in my Uncle’s throat. I’ll take care of it myself.”

“What are you going to do?”

“That’s below your pay grade, spy. I’ll handle this myself. I’m heading to the capital tomorrow for a meeting with my father and the court. How long would it take for you to sail to Lanka alone?”

“Almost a week,” Harry answers.

“Okay. I want you to set sail to Lanka five days from now. I’ll have a scroll delivered to you at noon by the docks. Hand it over to Karthi. Father will want him back in the capital. Keep mum about this and you’ll be rewarded handsomely.”

Harry nods. “Don’t want gold coins this time. I want a house. Close to the sea. One with space for a yard.”

“I’ll see to it.”

“Thank you, Y/N. I’ll set sail five days from now to Lanka. It’ll also be nice to pay the old man a visit too.”

“Your father’s there?”

Harry nods.

“How is Merchant Styles? I heard he’s retired” Y/N asks.

“He took to Buddhist teachings. Become a proper monk now,” Harry chuckles.

Y/N laughs, one that’s laced with mockery.

“What’s so funny?” Harry asks, standing up abandoning the food.

“Nothing,” she gets out between peels of laughter, wiping her the tears that threaten to spill.

“With all due respect, Princess. Spit it the fuck out,” he huffs out in annoyance.

“It’s just funny. Your father practises a faith that preaches restraint of the senses as one of its precepts and then there’s you.” She bites down on her bottom lip to stop herself from breaking out into a fit of laughter.

“I don’t quite follow,” he crosses her arms.

“Of course you don’t,” she chuckles, straightening up and tilting her chin up.

“You always do that,” he points out. “Pretend you're better than me. It’s obvious you hate me when I’ve been nothing but friendly.”

“You’re not my friend. You’re Vikram’s friend. And Karthi’s. I don’t know you. And I know for a fact that I’m better than you,” YN's eyebrow raises in arrogance.

“What makes you so sure?” Harry takes a step towards her.

“Because, Harry Styles, you’re the proverbial whore of the town. I don’t go around screwing everything with a pulse,” she smiles arrogantly at him.

“How did you come upon this piece of information?” He asks her.

“News travels fast, especially with handmaidens. So, that’s why it’s funny. Your father practises self-restraint and you are on a mission to contract a venereal disease.”

“Sounds like someone’s projecting,” he says, voice laced with honey.

“I’m not projecting anything.”

“Sounds like what you’re saying is that you’re jealous that I have the confidence to partake in intercourse and you’re a bumbling virgin-“

“I’ve read all of the volumes of the Kamasutra. I know my way around when I need to engage in coitus for reproduction,” she cuts him off.

“Oh, sweet sweet Princess,” he whispers, using her title condescendingly. “Sex is more than just reproduction.” He strides towards her.

“It is. That’s what the textbook says: It's a womanly duty to service the man and bear his children. It’s sacred,” she insists, taking a step back.

“I’m surprised for someone with such progressive morals… Your view on pleasure seems archaic,” he takes a step toward her again.

“Books do not lie, spy. They have the whole truth.” She steps back again, bumping into the edge of her teakwood desk, trapping herself.

“What do your precious books say about the way your body sparkles when you reach a satisfying end?” He goads, taking a final step forward and invading her personal space.

“You are forbidden to come this close to me, Harry.” Y/N reminds him in futility. Feeling his hard chest against her, thighs rubbing up against him, she can feel his hard muscles straining against her and his warmth radiate, crawling its way into her skin.

“Call out to the guards then,” he reminds her, dropping his head down to nose at her temple.

“I will,” her voice is feeble. “You’ll be cut into pieces and thrown in the ocean.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he smirks, as his lips circuit down the shell of her ear. “I don’t see you telling me to stop.” His tongue laves at her lobe, teeth coming to clamp down gently and tug.

Y/N squeaks feeling his action go down straight to her core. “I know how to defend myself.”

“I don’t doubt it for a second.” He stops, pulling back to look at her. “You don’t need to fight me,” his voice rings with sincerity. “Just tell me to stop and I will, Y/N.” He looks at her, searching her face for an answer.

“What else?” She murmurs, after a few moments, looking up into his eyes.

“Hmm?”

“What else? Things that haven’t been mentioned in books,” she clarifies.

His eyes shine with mischief as he simpers, dimples dazzling. “Where do I start, Y/N…” he trails off, fully pressing himself against her chest. God, she’s so responsive, he marvels at the way her chest heaves against his, heart stammering a staccato against his own racing heart. She’s soft and warm and she smells heavenly. His lips find its way to the base of her jaw, dragging up and leaving open mouth kisses on her smooth skin. “When you find someone desirable, you feel the heat pool in your belly and spread like wildfire across every nerve ending of your body.” He kisses her cheek, a hand going to intertwine with hers.

“Have you felt that?” He asks, feeling hot puffs of her breath against his neck. Y/N shakes her head. “It’s not very noble to lie, Princess,” he whispers, lips moving against the column of her throat. “I see the way you fuck me with your eyes.”

“I do not-“ her voice cuts off as Harry suckles on her jugular, feeling her hammering pulse underneath his lips. She lets out a whimper that goes straight to his fattening cock. Y/N’s mouth falls open dragging in breaths of fresh air, her free hand bracing against the desk to hold herself upright. “I do not fuck you with my eyes.”

“Really?” He says popping off, his calloused fingers come to caress the agitated spot. He was careful not to leave a hickey but he loved the way her skin turned a baby pink in response to his ministrations. “I guess I must have imagined all those times you looked me up and down?”

“I guess you did, Harry,” her chest heaves as she tries to maintain composure. It wasn’t right to be doing this with Harry. It wasn’t right to be doing this with anyone outside the sanctity of a marital bed but it’s exhilarating, breaking rules. She’s not sure if it’s Harry or it’s just the thrill of doing something that might get her in trouble with her parents. They trust her. Trusted her enough to let her move out of the capital and to the port town with her grandmother because she wishes to live by the beach. And here she was enjoying herself with a plebian. A foreigner. A spy. She met him when she was eighteen as her brother’s friend and he was handsome. Chocolate brown curls, smatter of freckles on the bridge of his nose, a perfect smile, dimples, and an alluring set of mossy green irises. She’s heard stories and rumours of his sexual escapades and as much as she detested hearing those stories, she detested the fact that she’s been comparing the princes who had come to ask for her hand in marriage to him. But all she could think of was how strong his arm was wrapped around her waist, pulling her even closer to him.

“Stubborn,” he smirks up. “See what you do to me?” He presses his hard cock against her pelvic bone, watching the way her eyes darken as she realises, the sight smirk of hers doesn't go unnoticed by him. “You’ve been driving me insane since the day I saw you on your eighteenth birthday. Went back to my quarters and touched myself to the thought of you,” he confesses. “You’ve been in my dreams ever since.” He cups her cheek, thumb moving back and forth across her lips.

“Are you going to kiss me, Harry?” She asks, looking up at him.

“Have you kissed anyone before?” He questions.

She shakes her head. “My handmaidens have kissed the people who were courting them. They told me how to do it and helped me practise on fruit.”

“That so?” He smiles, lips ghosting her Cupid’s bow. “You know kissing is pretty easy, Y/N,” he declares. “But it’s also powerful” he tells her, lips moving against hers. “‘A kiss may ruin a human life.’”

“Oscar Wilde,” she says, recognising his quote, surprised by his knowledge of poetry. She gets on her toes, pulling her intertwined hand out of Harry’s, and running it down his chest, she can feel the way his muscles ripple underneath the fabric of his shirt. Her chest heaves, belly clenching in anticipation as he lowers tilts his head to the side, noses squished and her mouth opens in anticipation.

He presses his forehead against hers savouring the moment. “And I’m sure that if I start kissing you now, Princess… I might never be able to stop,” he tells her, breathing in her intoxicating sweet floral scent. He concedes by kissing her eyelids and he’s fighting the urge to not run his hands down her body and up her thighs to see if she’s wet for him, but he steps away wanting to be respectful.

Y/N can’t hide the disappointment in her face when backs away from her. His hands come to cup her cheeks, smearing a tender kiss on her forehead. “Never met anyone who has me on a chokehold, Y/N,” he confesses. “I shall bid my goodbye.” He brings her hand to his mouth and kisses her palm, pressing it to his cheek.

“See you Harry,” she smiles. “You’ll be given the scroll at the docks at noon five days from now,” she informs, standing upright; snapping back into the person she was before being pushed up against the desk by Harry.

“Princess Y/N,” he bows, popping a piece of jujube in his mouth before making his way to her balcony. He gives her a salute one last time before climbing down the tower during forbidden hours, like he always does. But this time, he’s rappelling down the side of the stone structure with butterflies in his tummy.

part two

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[lizz-crimson]

And They Were Roommates (Shinnok's Head x Reader)

Yes, you read that title correctly, bare with me.

Summary: Reader ends up preventing Shinnok's head from entering the Jinsei and convinces Raiden to let them keep him in their apartment. Yeah.

Tags/Extra: Reader is gender neutral (please let me know if you see a mistake anywhere!), goofiness, non-serious, Shinnok can't believe this shit, Netflix?, platonic, for now, does this count as a slow burn?

Words: 2238

Part 2 Part 3

-----

"Can I keep him?"

Lord Raiden replied to your question with an expression of utter shock.

"...what?"

"WHAT?" The head of Shinnok wriggled in your grasp, and his face was also in shock.

He'd finally gained back a sliver of power—enough to talk and also enough to cast one spell. A simple teleportation spell that would send him, his head rather, directly into Earthrealm's Jinsei Chamber in Raiden's Sky Temple. It was supposed to work. It should have worked. Why didn't it work?

You'd gotten lost in Raiden's temple and were lucky enough to be in the Jinsei Chamber before Shinnok's head could fall in. That's why.

"Can I keep him?" You repeated it a bit slower, clapping mentally in between the words as your hands were occupied holding an ancient evil.

Raiden's jaw hung open slightly, a rare expression for the Thunder God. "[Y/n], I cannot allow you to harbor Shinnok yourself. He is much too dangerous."

"I understand that, Raiden, but you gotta listen to me for a second." You argued gently. "Shinnok can't passively gain power here in Earthrealm like he can in the Neatherealm. He's no threat as he is now, and I already stopped him from getting into the Jinsei, didn't I?" You gave Raiden a brief pause as he thought. "I can handle him, I promise." You gave a confident smile. It was true that without undead servants giving Shinnok souls to feast on and convert into power, he was no threat now. You felt him shaking with rage in your arms.

"I am not your pet, mortal!" Shinnok yelled, slightly hopping in your grasp. "I am Shinnok, ruler of the Neatherrealm! I will not be contained by some lucky Earthrealm weakling!"

After a beat, you again speak to Raiden, ignoring Shinnok.

"Plus, if you keep him locked away up here with you, you'll have to listen to shit like that 24/7." you added to your earlier argument.

"And you would not?" Raiden countered.

"Raiden, I live in New York. I'm the master of ignoring people."

Shinnok watched in horror as Raiden turned his gaze away in thought. He was actually considering your offer.. Seeing this yourself, you push him a bit more.

"C'monnn," you said, leaning forward a bit. "I won't even charge you," you joke. Raiden rolled his eyes, but a faint, lopsided smile appeared. He sighed.

"Alright, [Y/n], I'll allow you to keep Shinnok."

"WHAT!?"

You close the door to your apartment behind you with a sigh of relief. Raiden can't exactly teleport you inconspicuously home when you live in such a crowded area. So he has to drop you off in an alleyway a whole three miles from your apartment complex. It wasn't an ideal situation, but when you had realm-ending threats to deal with, it seemed worthless to complain about them.

Speaking of realm-ending threats...

You carelessly drop the backpack you were wearing on the floor. There's a heavy 'thud' and a muffled groan of displeasure right after.

"Ow!"

"Oop-- sorry!"

Unzipping the backpack, you pull out Shinnok's head and place him gently on your couch. From there, he could pretty much see the majority of your apartment. The kitchen, living room, and door to your bedroom were well within sight.

As much as Shinnok was ready to start spouting curses and threats to your life, he couldn't help but be slightly appalled by your living conditions.

"Welcome to your new prison," you announced to him.

"Are you certain this isn't your own prison?" he replied.

"Hm?" You raised an eyebrow before catching on to his meaning. "Oh, that. Yeah, it's pretty miserable, isn't it?" You sigh and take a seat on the couch yourself. "Welcome to New York. All 19 million residents live just as shitty. Get used to it."

"This is truly your home? This must be some kind of joke," Shinnok spat. You sighed again before replying.

"Yes, this is my home. Were you expecting something grandiose?"

"For an insignificant mortal like you, no." He scoffed, then scanned the apartment again. "But this... I was expecting you to have room to breathe at the least."

"Yeah, I expected that when I first signed the lease too." You leaned back on the couch. God, you missed the countryside. Hell, if you lived there, you and Shinnok would have some damn room. It had crossed your mind to move back, but with everything going on nowadays, moving was the last thing that should be on your mind.

It seemed to re-enter your brain that you had a fallen Elder God in your apartment. An evil one. Sure, he'd been decapitated, but he was there.

"Anyway, per me and Raiden's agreement, I will be keeping you from this moment on. If I suspect you of anything nefarious, I have to contact him, and then he'll be the one you have to answer to. Got that?"

"Yes, I'm aware. Now what are you going to do with me? Lock me in some corner?"

"Don't give me ideas, head," you replied. "If anything, I should put you in a box and leave you in the closet, but I'm too nice for that." You said. "So I'll just leave you here on the couch, and I guess I oughta put on some Netflix to keep you entertained."

"What are Netflix?"

And so Shinnok's new life began. A severed head confined to one side of the couch with Netflix shows he couldn't even scroll through himself. The days were long and boring. Sure, some of the movies and TV shows peeked his interest, and you even made a separate profile for him to keep track of them all, but other than that...

The fallen elder God hardly spoke to you unless you said something first. He felt as if speaking to you too often would somehow damage his brain. In his boredom, however, he did take the risk and started asking (demanding) to know where you were during the days. That opened the doors to new conversation topics. He grew curious and started asking more questions. You answered them. Why not? It wasn't like telling him why you hated your boss and coworkers was going to end the realm as you knew it.

While Shinnok couldn't eat for obvious reasons, he could smell. He found the scent of the various dishes you made to be quite good. He also enjoyed the smell of the fast food you brought home or had a slave deliver to you sometimes. After explaining that the Doordash delivery man wasn't a slave, you turned your attention to your hot wings. You ended up telling him of a time when Raiden accidentally choked on a hot wing. This was rewarded with a boisterous laugh from the head. It turns out even evil gods have senses of humor, and every once in a while you're about to get a laugh out of him.

So yeah, neither of you were as bad to have around as you both assumed. You adapted to his presence, and he to yours.

Throwing the door to your apartment open, you groaned and threw your work bag across the room. It hit a window with a thud, causing a perching pigeon to startle and fly away.

"Oh~," Shinnok jeered," someone's got you riled up, haven't they?" he chuckled.

You let the door close behind you and stomped your way to the kitchen, pointing a finger at the head on your couch. "Don't even get me started."

You grabbed a can of soda out of the fridge, cracked it open, and then proceeded to get started.

"You remember my coworker Cindy?"

"The 'office pick-me,' correct?"

"Yeah!" you confirmed with a snap of your fingers. "Well, today she skipped right up to me all happy 'n shit, right?"

"Right."

"She starts going on and on about how our annual reviews are coming up, and she's all like, 'Oh dear, I hope I get that raise. Oh me, oh my, I hope people in the office have put in a few good words for me!,'" you mocked in an annoying voice. "I'm telling you, Shinnok, it took every ounce of strength I had not to fu--"

Your rant is cut short by the ring of your phone, and you groan again before answering it.

"Hello?"

"Hey [Y/n], it's Cassie." Cassandra Cage greeted on the other side.

"Oh, hey, commander. What's up?"

"A lot, actually," she replied with an exasperated tone. "We need to talk to Shinnok. Are you home?"

Oh no..

"I am. Is everything alright?"

"Most likely not. We'll be there in thirty. Prepare the head."

Once Cassie hung up, you sighed, knowing this particular conversation wasn't going to be civil.

"Bad news, Shinnok."

"What is it?"

"Remember Cassandra Cage? The one who beat you the second time around?"

Shinnok snarled. "Yes, I remember. Why?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"She's coming to talk to you."

"WHY?"

"She said something's wrong," you replied. You contemplated for a moment. Could Shinnok have been up to something while you were at work all these days? He hasn't moved from his spot on the couch since you brought him here, but he was a sorcerer, so...

"You cannot possibly think I have anything to do with this, do you?" Shinnok asked, voice raised.

"No, no, I just..." you trail off and huff. "I don't know! You're the deity in this situation!"

"Yes, I am a deity. A deity who's been confined to a couch watching Netflix for a month now!"

"Y'know, most people would love to be you right now! You don't know how privileged you are!"

"Privileged?" Shinnok was utterly appalled.

A hard round of knocking startled the both of you out of your argument.

"Shut the fuck up!" your neighbor yelled.

"Sorry, Charles!" you quickly apologized. When the footsteps of your neighbor faded, you took a breath. "Listen, Cassie is going to be by in a few minutes. Please just answer honestly when she asks you anything."

Shinnok grumbled," Fine. Whatever."

"Good. Now let's watch the season finale of My Happy Marriage before she gets here."

"An agreeable exploit."

After a while, and after discussing the possibilities for the second season of your show, another round of knocking made Shinnok's expression fall.

"Coming!" you said. You then rose from the couch and peeked through the peephole on your door, seeing Cassie on the other side. "Friend or foe?"

"Friends. Raiden is here too," she replied. Looking over a bit, you could indeed see Raiden standing beside her. Shinnok groaned on the couch. You gave him a look before letting in Cassie and Raiden. Raiden, as always, had to duck under your door.

"Alright, now what's the problem supposed to be?" You asked, wanting to get straight to the point and not waste time if the world was in danger again.

Raiden held out his hand to calm you. "Firstly, where is Shinnok?"

You gestured to your couch and watched as Cassie and Raiden's eyes locked with Shinnok's. The fallen Elder God was already glaring daggers at the both of them. Cassie was stifling laughter while Raiden approached him.

"Demons from the Neatherrealm have been getting into Earthrealm, Shinnok. Whatever it is you're planning, we'll--"

"Wait, wait, wait," you stopped Raiden, surprising him, Cassie, and Shinnok himself. "Hold on, Shinnok has been here, unmoving, for a whole month. How do we know this is his doing?" you asked.

"There can be no other explanation, [Y/n]."

"Then maybe Shinnok could provide us with one?" You replied and looked towards Shinnok, gesturing for him to speak for himself.

For a few moments, Shinnok said nothing, but then, after a grunt, he replied," It is possible that without my power to stabilize the Neatherrealm's energy, demons may simply be transported here without precise reason."

"So, how do we stop it then?" Cassie stepped up. Shinnok smirked.

"You cannot. Not without sending me back to my rightful place in the Neatherrealm."

"Yeah, not happening, asshole." Cassie said.

"Hmm, there may be a way," Raiden hummed. "By learning the magic Shinnok uses to power the Neatherrealm, we could stop the demons ourselves."

"I'd rather choke than teach you the dark arts, Raiden," Shinnok jeered.

There was a pause. Everyone in the room seemed to just be thinking of a way to solve this problem. All except for Shinnok. The only thing he was thinking about was how funny it would be to see Raiden choke himself on a hot wing.

"Then would you be willing to teach me?" you asked him.

"...Pardon?"

You kneeled down on the floor to be face-to-face with Shinnok. "Teach me how to stabilize the Neatherrealm. Out of all the Earthrealmers you can choose from, it would be best to teach me, right? You know me after all," you said.

"That.. is true," Shinnok said, looking to the side and thinking a bit about the subject.

"You do realize that learning dark magic will be more difficult than anything you've ever attempted before?" Raiden said.

"Yeah [Y/n], are you sure you want to control the undead and shit like that?" Cassie asked.

"It's best for the realms, isn't it?" you replied. "So Shinnok, what do you say?"

Shinnok remained quiet for a bit longer, grinding his teeth in deep thought. Eventually, he sighed.

"Fine then. I hope you're ready for hell, [Y/n], because I am a very stern teacher."

----

Lol, I wrote something. I have more little things in the works as well!

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 11 #shinnok #raiden #mk fanfic #mortal kombat x reader

[blackautmedia]

Watching someone play Twilight Princess after having gone through Tears of the Kingdom just made me remember why I enjoyed so much of it.

For all of my other gripes with the writing and character design issues, Twilight Princess does make this commentary on how it humanizes the Twili.

Midna has a moment before you enter the Twilight Realm where she stops to tell you about her home.

The game pretty consistently conditions you into thinking this is a dangerous place, the people referred to as descendants of interlopers.

But Midna also acts as a consistent and critical force toward Hyrule's governing structure (which is made more interesting by the fact that they don't tell you outright that Midna is a ruler herself until pretty late in the game) and toward the spirits.

A lot of the temples in Twilight Princess -- about half of them actually-- are designed with the attitude that you're not just exploring a temple but entering a space where people live and exist. The Forest Temple, Goron Mines, Snowpeak Temple, City in the Sky, and Palace of Twilight all follow that pattern.

It urges you to remember this isn't just a temple for you to clear but a place where real people who deserve safety and humanity live too. These aren't "interlopers" you need to be wary of.

This same scene also has Midna's apology, a bit of explanation to what was going on, and her resolve that the situation you're in requires helping and protecting both worlds.

Honestly--her setting her sights on prioritizing the well-being of her people and the dismissive way she treated you for it isn't even something I fault her for even if the game tries to frame it differently.

That's not to say the game is without its issues, particularly in a lot of the designs for its characters and the framing that comes with it, but I do really appreciate how the game goes out of its way to humanize a group of people Link has been conditioned to believe are less than in many ways.

The light spiirt didn't really give you a shining description, yet Midna urges you to see this not just a place where people live, but a beautiful place to live and experience.

Then when you actually go in, the very first thing Midna does is make a request related to her people and to request you help the people who live there.

Meanwhile, the same series has the way the Gerudo are largely seen as evil others by default and only granted sympathy when they're explicitly aligned with Hyrule. Even TP does that with Midna in how her dying move was to save Hyrule's people. I realize the Twili still run into a lot of savior narratives centering Link, but I still appreciate this little portion of the game.

I wish the series as a whole took that sort of attitude because that dehumanization is often just done straight, but there is the freedom to critique Hyrule, its leadership, and its governing structure that I feel isn't quite there in the series now and even Twilight Princess still doesn't quite scratch the itch.

I really wish Rauru got more of the Midna treatment in how he can openly share his thoughts and feelings, how he can be a voice of criticism but also be criticized himself narratively much like Midna did.

I don't think it's a coincidence that Midna is overwhelmingly considered the best companion Link has had by so many people.

#twilight princess #midna #twilight princess spoilers #tears of the kingdom #gerudo #king rauru

[skaikruswan]

Hi! I found pouty Morpheus super cute! Could you please write a Morpheus x goddess!reader who always shows affection for Morpheus. But one day she accidentally ignores him because she has too much work. Eventually our emo boy gets upset about it. Thanks❤️❤️❤️

Divine intervention

WC: 1,4 k Ao3

Relationship: Morpheus x f!reader

Notes: fluff, first meeting, missed date, pouty Morpheus

Dear anon, thanks for the prompt! I am sorry it took a while. I hope you enjoy!

If you liked this story, i have written others.

You know a secret, an important one, one that saved you from the oblivion that has claimed so many deities. Humans hold power over gods. So many gods and goddesses believe, no, consider themselves to be worthy of their dedication and worship, without even caring enough about humanity. It’s selfish and arrogant, and sooner or later, this attitude will be their doom. 

You have had many names over the ages and various aspects in several cultures. In the end, it didn’t particularly matter to you what humanity called you, as long as they called you at all. 

You walk among humans, listening to their struggles and pleas, offering a kind word or a much-needed pat on the back, helping them in any way you can. You give them hope and sympathy, the light at the end of a tunnel, the warm blanket in a cold night. Some people notice that you’re not human: you see it in their widened eyes, their reverent gaze, or their sharp inhale. But most of them are simply glad that you’re here. 

You don’t need temples or sacrifices; all you need is the warm feeling in your chest as you see them get better, to know that you helped them. 

Each time a person you helped has dreams about you, you feel equally content and queasy. You feel honored and glad that you made such an impact on them, but you worry as you just entered the realm of a being much more powerful than you are. But all your worries were simply worries. Morpheus, Dream of the Endless and ruler of the Dreaming, doesn’t consider you a threat. You still remember your first meeting.

Lexie, a lovely young woman just survived a dangerous operation and got a new pair of lungs, after endless weeks of hoping and praying. In her dream, she was standing on top of a mountain, screaming from the top of her healthy, functioning lungs, and how could you not smile, when her joy was this wonderful and infectious? 

“You are the reason she has such a positive dream,” an unknown, deep voice declared, you turned around to see Morpheus. Dressed in black, his dark hair a mess, his blue eternal eyes peering at you, you felt the endless power radiating from him. 

“I am sorry sir, I shall leave your realm at once,” you apologized, every atom in your immortal body vibrating as you inclined your head in a respectful manner. 

“You are helping the dreamers. I sense no evil intentions. You can stay.” 

             __________________________

One shared dream has become several, and over time you stopped walking on eggshells around him. To be honest, it is really nice to have someone to talk to. Immortality gets rather lonely and despite the comforting presence of humans, you still don’t have anyone to really connect with. Your last friend, a minor deity of peace, did not make it through the 20th century. Watching them wither and fade in front of your eyes forever tore a piece of your heart from you. 

Morpheus shares your vision on humans, that immortals serve them instead of the opposite. He has told you that he had only recently realized this. It had been in a dream, the lake over which they were rowing reflecting the dark, starless sky, when Morpheus had confessed the atrocity he had suffered through during the last century. 

You impulsively had reached out to hold his hand, your thumb stroking over the back of his hand. Your mind had called you a fool while your heart was soaring, and for a moment, you had held your breath.  

“Thank you for your time, and for listening to me.” He had smiled at you for the first time, and you felt your heart skip for a beat. His other hand had covered yours and you hoped that the darkness hid your big blush. 

“I’m glad I’m here.” 

                ___________________________

You almost saunter as you walk through a crowd, smiling at a heartbroken teenager, dropping some change into the cup of a homeless, and stopping an elderly man from walking in front of a car. Morpheus and you will have a date tonight, and the prospect makes butterflies swarm your stomach. You wish you could say that you have experience, but when it comes to matters of the heart, immortals are just as lost and confused as mortals. 

You had been cautious and gentle at the beginning of your relationship. In the privacy of a dream, you had held his hand, brushed your fingers through the silky strands of his hair, or pressed a featherlight kiss on his cheek. But you didn’t want to showcase your relationship, fearful that the residents of the Dreaming would gossip. 

“My love, you have nothing to hide or fear. Let everyone in this realm know that I enjoy your presence and affection,” he had declared, softly pressing his lips against yours, and you had felt sunlight light up inside your veins. From this day on, you hadn’t held back, showering him with affection, showing the world how much he means to you. 

Matthew once called lovey-dovey, his caw sounding like laughter as he soared over you, interrupting your picnic date in Fiddler’s Green. Merv told you in secret that there were nightmares and dreams betting on how often you would make the boss smile during one day. Lucienne kept giving you an almost amused look every time you waltzed into the library, knowing that she would have to answer a question about Morpheus, so you could surprise him better. 

__________________________

You’re glad that tragedies still affect you, that you still feel the pain and sorrow that seems to sniff out any positive emotion as a storm would sniff out a candle; it means that your heart hasn’t turned to stone. You’ve seen deities grow cold and unbothered. You’ve sworn that it would never happen to you. 

You feel their need for you, you hear their despairing thoughts and broken-hearted prayers, and steel yourself for a long day.

A minute turns into an hour, an hour turns into several. You can’t deny them in their hour of need, so you offer everything you can. 

While you’re immortal, you still experience exhaustion, and you drag yourself to your home, immediately falling into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

       _______________________________

Morpheus has shown you how to enter the Dreaming, and you find yourself right where you want to be: the palace. It is surprisingly empty, except for a group of naiads who disappear into some people’s dreams in a burst of spring water. The throne is empty, so Morpheus must be somewhere else. Council seems to be finished. 

You wander into the library, expecting Morpheus to maybe discuss something with Lucienne. The librarian is seemingly looking for something, pulling out books and tomes with a small frown on her face. You announce yourself by clearing your throat and wait until Lucienne has finished her task. 

“It’s good to see you, my lady. Do you have any more questions?” she asks as she adjusts her glasses. 

“Just one actually: where’s Morpheus?”

“I don’t know, I’m afraid. After the council was finished, he left.” Lucienne glances around before leaning forward. “He seemed a little displeased.” Regret and embarrassment twist knots into your stomach as you realize why that might be the case. You missed the date! 

“I’ll look for him, thanks Lucienne.” 

       __________________________________

You find him in Fiddler’s Green, at the exact spot you’ve had you picnic date. It’s dark, so he perfectly blends in with the shadows. With his back turned towards you, he can’t see the way you bite your lip, but he can hear your hesitant steps. Nobody likes being stood up. 

“I am sorry for missing our date.” You don’t regret helping those in need, but you regret that Morpheus waited here for you, and you didn’t show. You feel a stone drop inside your stomach. While you were never into gossip, even you have picked up that Morpheus doesn’t take rejection kindly. 

“I waited.” Morpheus turns around and you bite the inside of your jaw to freeze your facial expressions. Dream of the Endless is pouting, and you will remember this image forever. Lucienne was right. 

“I will make this worth your wait,” you promise, giving him a coy smile as you slowly approach him, fluttering your eyelashes for good measure. 

“Surprise me, goddess,” he challenges, giving you a small smirk, one you wipe off his face as you crush your lips against his, burying your hands into his hands and angling his head as you put all your love into this kiss. 

#the sandman #the sandman x reader #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless #dream x reader #my writing #my sandman fics

[ohbo-ohno]

CONGRATS ON 1K!!!! 🎉🎊🏆 May I please request “An old well” from the list? (Hehe, I’m a Sadako fan, I couldn’t resist) - 🕸

1k game here

how dare you make me google what "Sadako" is and see that terrifying shit. shame on you (/j)

inspired by an ancient mayan tradition where human sacrifices were shoved to the bottom of a well (which i read in a book called lotería, but i can't find sources on whether or not it's a real thing). the italics are a mayan prayer, found here

1.7k of god of rain ghost x sacrificed reader. there's actually very little ghost in this, sorry! it's mostly vibes tbh

The jewelry weighs down your every limb, dripping down your neck and arms. The mix of the drugs you'd been fed and the heavy ornaments leaves you unable to move, left lounging on the table you're carried on. You recite the prayer of the seven directions as you're paraded through the streets of your city.

From the East, House of Light May wisdom Dawn in us So we may see all things in clarity

You can hear the cheering crowds of your people. As scared as you are, you comfort yourself with the knowledge that you're helping them. If the God of Rain accepts your sacrifice, your people will have a prosperous harvest. And then, if the gods are kind, they will feast.

From the North, House of the Night May Wisdom Ripen in Us So we may know all from within

It's not much, but it's enough for you to find peace with your coming death. You picture your mother and father, bellies full and bodies healthy, and you know that it is enough. It has to be enough.

From the West, House of Transformation May Wisdom be transformed into right action So we may do what must be done

The sun shines down on you, leaving your skin tight and burning. There's not a cloud in the sky, yet another reminder of what your sacrifice is for. The rain god has not been pleased in recent months, and you are the final attempt at regaining his favor.

From the South, House of the Eternal Sun May right action reap the harvest So we may enjoy the fruits of Planetary being

You take a deep breath and let your eyes slip closed. You tell yourself there is peace in death, that you'll meet the ancestors with open arms. You are not afraid.

From Above, House of Heaven Where star people and Ancestors gather May their blessings come to us Now

A tear slips down your cheek as the table is settled to the ground. The cheering is a distant sound now, left at the bottom of the steps of the temple. You slowly blink your eyes open, and see the blurry image of your halach uinic, you ruler. He's a tall man - big and dark and broad, decorated with the scars of his conquest. His regalia nearly outshines yours.

He pulls you up with surprisingly gentle hands, doesn't even flinch when you give him almost all of your weight. The drugs you'd been given paint the world in stunning colors as they begin to settle more, and you watch with wide-eyes as the scars across his torso begin to move.

From Below, House of Earth May the heartbeat of her crystal core Bless us with harmonies to end all war

"We thank you for your sacrifice," you hear him saying, his voice muffled. He's reciting a prayer you've heard a dozen times before, before dozens of sacrifices. It's as familiar as the one you finish in your head, eyes slipping closed to give you a break from all the squirming scars.

From the Center, Galactic Source Which is everywhere at once May everything be known As the light of mutual love

"And we pray to you, Great God of Rain, of Thunder and Lightning, that you will split the clouds again, and allow us the great gift of your prosperity! We pray that our humble sacrifice be accepted, that our Woman be to your pleasure."

There's a muted sense of grief for yourself, deep in your chest. You can tell yourself again and again that you're ready to meet the dead, to beg for entrance to Death's kingdom, but it doesn't make the departure from life any easier.

"Are you ready?" The halach uinic asks, but you both know that you can't answer. It's difficult enough to open your eyes and look at him, nodding - or even speaking - isn't possible right now.

He's careful not to brush your skin as he guides you forward, hands wrapped around the gold bangles. He stands behind you, and your breath hitches.

You know what happens now. He's going to shove you into the well, where you will die and hope the God of Rain accepts your spirit before allowing you to pass on.

It doesn't make you less terrified when his handles settle on your shoulders. Your breathing shudders in and out of you, tears slipping down your cheeks.

You don't get a warning. One minute you're standing at the top of the temple, at the edge of the well, and the next you're falling through the air.

Oh Yum Hunab Ku Evam Maya E Ma Ho All Hail the Harmony of Mind and Nature

It's a terrifying thing, to fall.

The jewelry does it's job, weighting you down so you sink far faster than you would've naked. It flies into the air behind you, the thick necklaces pulling back on your neck and nearly choking you. You're forced to turn in the air, with the futile hope that your neck won't break. The adrenaline and fear gives you just enough energy to turn mid-air.

You want to scream as you watch the spot of light become smaller and smaller at the top of the well. You want to wail and cry and kick and beg, beg any deity listening to stop time, to keep you from falling.

But you have to be thankful. If you die angry, the God of Rain will never accept your sacrifice.

You let your eyes fall shut again, and pray the drugs do their job. You pray it doesn't hurt to die.

Mercifully, your prayers are answered. You can both hear and feel when you stop falling, the sudden jerk to stillness a shock, and the heavy weight of gold and emerald landing on top of your chest.

It both hurts and doesn't. You're aware that it should hurt, that you should be in unfathomable pain, that you should be sobbing and begging for the relief of death.

But there's no pain. There's a weight, a heavy cloud over your existence, but there's no pain.

It's dark at the bottom of the well. The glow from the sky is faint this far down, giving you only the impression of light. There's a glow coming from somewhere to your right, but you aren't strong enough to turn your head and look.

All you can do is breathe shallowly and stare up at the small blue circle above you.

Then, footsteps.

Loud, scraping footsteps, like the person making them isn't lifting his feet the whole way. Your breath hitches, but you force yourself to relax.

This is it. This is the moment you meet the God of Rain and beg him to accept your sacrifice.

He appears above you in pieces. A head of hair, a mask, a neck, a shoulder, a torso.

He's large, like all gods are presumed to be, and wearing a mask of bone like you've seen painted across temple walls.

"Another one?" He rumbles, voice low and echoing.

It's jarring to hear a god speak. His voice is both loud and quiet, both echoing and muffled, for you and for everyone. He's cloaked in black and bone, a picture of death, but his gift to your people is life. He's a contradiction, in every sense of the word.

"Please-" you choke out, voice weak and quiet. You have to fight to get the words past your throat, the drugs leaving you a prisoner in your own body. "Please... accept.... my hu... humble sacrifice.... and.... and...."

He sighs, stepping away. "Quiet."

You listen immediately, praying you haven't already ruined everything.

"They're always so slow," he mutters to himself. Before you can realize he's come back, you're lifted into his arms, held like a baby.

The part of your mind untouched by the drugs screams at this blessing, this gift, but the part of you still high only goes limp.

"No wonder you humans need so much extra help. Can hardly even speak yet."

Your eyebrows furrow, and you feel the pointless need to defend yourself. "It's... drugs...."

"What?" He looks down at you. "You're still alive?"

The best you manage is a hum.

"Huh. None of you have ever made it this long. Good for you, I supposed. Drugs, you said? Why on Earth would you be on drugs?"

"So..." you take a breath. The air is musty and cold down here, unpleasant in your mouth. "So... no... pain."

He snorts. "That does make sense. You humans are very sensitive, it can't be pleasant to hit the ground from such a height."

You'd laugh, if you could. Who knew gods could be talkative?

You're laid out on something cold and rough, almost like stone beneath your naked back. A hand presses into your stomach, forcing you to lay flat.

"I don't think any of you have made it this long," he muses to himself. "At least, not in recent centuries." His hand is warm as it strokes over the sensitive skin of your concave stomach. "You're very thin for a human. The ones they send have been getting thinner and thinner every year."

"Famine..." you whisper, rapidly losing your ability to speak. You can feel yourself fading now, can feel the first inklings of pain beginning in your head.

"Hmm. I suppose I have been putting off my duties for a bit too long."

A few tears slip down your cheeks, your body going cold.

"Well, I suppose you are a rather good sacrifice. Determined little thing, aren't you?" His warm hand cups your cheek, turning it to the side. You whine when that makes the pain ten times worse, lips quivering. "Hush, little one. Would you like the pain to go away?"

You try to look up at him. It takes several tries, every part of you slowly losing it's numbness. Everything is excruciating.

"There you are," he hums again, thumb stroking just between your eye. "It has been a while since I've had an assistant. I might keep you to myself for a bit."

If you were at all capable of anything but crying, your eyebrows would furrow. As it is, you can't do anything but sob.

"Alright, hush now," he shushes, other hand coming up to cover your eyes. "Let go, little human. Things will be very different for you when you wake up."

You're helpless to obey, closing your eyes against the pain and welcoming the sweet oblivion of death. You feel the God of Rain by your side the entire time, hand resting over your eyes. It's painful, but his presence brings you some peace.

You hope your sacrifice was worth it, hope that he'll bring water to your people again.

#this is counts as “well” right #1k celebration #bo writes #ghost x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost riley x reader #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #🕸 anon

[fandomwrightingontheside]

Quan Chi x Reader x Shinnok

Minors DNI- NSFW In this!

----

Current list of fics in the work for those who are interested!

D'Vorah, Havik, Kollecter, Jealous Shinnok+ Quan Chi (Request), & Lovesick Quan Chi (Request)

----

You are sneaking into Raiden's sky temple, down into the Jensei chamber. You're just trying to get him or what's left of him. For a god that you know deep down doesn't feel love or anything close to affection. Yet you made your choice when his head was dropped in the Netherrealm. You unbind him, his cold body limp against you, and carry it over your shoulder. You're shocked Raiden hasn't come for you for sneaking into his temple. You make it through the temple without issues and can reach the Netherrealm. You sigh as you feel the warmth of the Netherrealm hit your skin. Your eyes land on Liu Kang and Kitana, the 'new' rulers of the Netherrealm. You know that they worship Shinnok's head in their bone temple. But you hope you can convince them to let you have his head. You want to reattach it to his body. As you approach, Liu Kang watches how you hold Shinnok's headless body in your arms.

Kitana glances at Shinnok's head on their alter before she reflects at you. "If I can reattach his head, your god can keep fighting Raiden," you explain to them. Liu Kang furrows his brows at that and shakes his head. "The God of Thunder will slaughter you without mercy!" Liu Kang spats. Kitana walks past him and grabs the head, inspecting the stump before looking back at you. "He will continue fighting as long as Raiden breathes," Kitana said as she walked closer to you. She holds the head out, and you gently put his body to the ground. You take the head and his body, finding a space for the fallen god to rest after what is going to happen.

You can feel Shinnok's eyes watching you as you move swiftly. You've done this before. You've resurrected Quan Chi, so just reattaching the head of a god to his rightful body should be easy. You keep telling yourself as you find an old medical room Quan Chi would use to do experiments with Shang Tsung. You delicately place his head down on the table as you get his body onto the bed. You glance at the god again as you look through the equipment and find all you need. The way his cold eyes bore into your being makes you uneasy as you look around and see that he had a vat for bodies and one full of blood. You get everything set up and roll your sleeves up. You give the god the best reassuring look you can as you gently pick his head up once more and bring it to his body as you begin the slow and tedious work of reattaching his head. The amount of small slices and nicks you have to take to make sure he'll have proper blood flow is upsetting, along with the looks he gives you even when you give him warnings. He seems annoyed that you speak to him occasionally as you work. You can't deal with the silence. Usually, you'd have Quan Chi to talk to as you work on things, but he's off doing god knows what.

It's exhausting work, but once it's all reattached, you sew his skin together, seeing how angry the flesh is as you do so. Are you surprised he hasn't attacked or killed you yet? Yes, very much so. You examine your handy work, seeing how this will scar nicely. You give him space as you wash his blood off of your hands. When you hear nothing from him, you see him sitting up fully as he stretches his fingers and legs; he is stiff. After you've dried off your hands, you move to bring his something to drink. His throat must be dry and scratchy after everything. When you present the glass of water to him, he takes it without a thank you or a single word. You watch his stitches, ready to jump to action if they burst open. When he finishes the glass of water, and you go for more, he turns his head away from you, refusing to drink anything else. "Why are you helping me?" He demands softly. You try not to gulp as you lean on your heels and think of how to answer him. It takes a moment for the words to come. "If I'm being honest," You start, "I always had an appreciation for what you are capable of and figured you'd rather not be a trophy for the 'new Netherralm king and queen,'" you say using finger quotes when referring to the king and queen. "Besides, I resurrected Quan Chi, so I figured that reattaching a head to a body couldn't be too difficult," you add as you grin at him like some fucked up ray of sunshine. It seems to have the effect you wanted because the corners of the god's lips twitched up for a split moment.

"Are you some fool that believes if you help me, you'd survive if I returned?" Shinnok finally asked. The question didn't seem malicious, but the god might be lying to you.

"Oh no, I thought I'd be dead already instead of having this conversation, Lord Shinnok," You tell him truthfully. That does get his lips to lift slightly, showing the god's pearly whites. He seems pleased you used the proper terminology when addressing him. His body twists to look at you better, eyes trailing up your frame. How and why do you smile so sweetly at him when he could quickly kill you with little effort? This question is turning his gears. "Then how will you deal with me now?" He says lowly. He wants you to slip up. He's curious about how you'd act and if you can go against him without fear.

"I didn't think I'd survive this long, my lord. Raiden didn't even find me when I stole your body from the Jensei," you shrug lightly as you move to clean the area up. Shinnok looks around the room slowly. His hand hovers over his stitched-up skin where the deep laceration was before you brought him here. He takes in his surroundings, and his mind races as he realizes you went to great lengths to help him. Then it hits him. You knew this could be the last day or week of your life. You were a willing participant in giving your life for him? Shinnok sits, unmoving, as his mind works in circles as you clean up. He needs more information. "May I clean your stitches? Dried blood will stick and pull on them painfully," you ask softly. It's so timid. Shinnok waves his hand for you to come and do as you must.

You move in closer and move his chin softly as you place a warm rag against his stitches to loosen dried blood. Your eyes watch his throat as you delicately clean your handy work. The warmth of your hands on his face and jaw is surprisingly pleasant to the god, and his eyes close as your thumb moves under his chin to adjust his head so you can have more access to clean. You move and hold him as if he's made of fragile glass. As if he hasn't done his fair share of evil things and murdered people left and right. Shinnok leans into your palm, moving his hand to cover yours. He looks you in the eye, a low grumble erupting from the bottom of his chest. His teeth come out before his tongue trails along the tops, eyes lidding as he takes in how you smile warmly at him as if you are unfazed and unthreatened by him. Shinnok didn't expect the warmth from the gentle touch of your thumb moving on its own accord. Your eyes stay locked on his stitches and the dried blood. You merely glance at him when he moves, watching his reactions for discomfort or pain.

As soon as he's thoroughly cleaned, he seems to regain some colour, the dried blood washed from his pale flesh and armour. His hand goes up to cup yours that had been supporting his neck, rubbing relaxing circles into the stiff and tense muscles. The god is confused. It would help if you weren't smiling, touching him, being near him. Shinnok slowly reaches down his hands towards where his amulet should be, only to find it gone. You give him a soft but apologetic look.

"Raiden wears your amulet like some kind of prize," you admit to him. The god sits straighter. You don't move from where you are; your hands slowly move to where his neck and shoulders meet as you massage the stiffness, hoping he won't stress the stitches. When a huff leaves him, your thumbs press deeper to release any stiffness holding on to the pale god. Shinnok almost melts as he feels his stiff muscles being worked on. He doesn't show this weakness. The god frowns at the realization that you are showing him more attention than needed, not that he's complaining, however. His large hand wraps around your smaller wrist as he stills your hands. "Am I entertaining you enough?" He spats lightly. Shinnok doesn't release you and inspects every detail on your skin.

"Apologies, my lord," you say softly as your fingers stop soothing his muscles. You move to pull away from him, thinking he's giving you this one tiny pit of mercy for giving him his autonomy back. Shinnok would not have the common courtesy or respect you are showing him now. Then again, you aren't trying to gain anything from what he can see. So why bother being so tender with him? There's no catch or reason behind it. Your warmth slips away from him and his hold as you give him space again. You don't seem concerned about him retaliating or escaping. You even leave yourself open to attacks when you turn away from him to clean up the tools you used to put him back together. Something inside the god roils, and he becomes impatient with himself when he doesn't have the proper words for how this experience is confusing.

As you putter about the room cleaning and occasionally offering him something or anything to drink or eat. Shinnok takes note of this kindness before he becomes angry. "Why do you offer me things? Why do you try to cater to me if I will kill you once my strength returns?!" The god demands loudly.

"Because I know that's a part of life. You live and then die, so why not just accept it when it comes for you instead of fighting it," you shrug as you give him a sad little smile. The words seem heavy for the god as he watches you move back to him. You know his eyes are on your form. You turn your back to him as you straighten yourself and move one of the heavy curtains to look out at the red sky of the Netherrealm. For a second, he wonders if you're stalling.

"Do I strike fear in you, Mortal," his voice is raspy when he finally moves to stand beside you, though his gaze isn't on the outside world; no, the god's eyes watch and scrutinize each feature. Your soft profile as your brows furrow at the darkest area of the Netherrealm. His interest in your words piques his curiosity.

"No, Lord Shinnok, you do not," you admit as you face him fully. There's a minute change in his expression. He doesn't show this. But his head moves just a tad. That little change isn't hidden from your gaze; you move just an inch. You sigh as you look back out the window. It was this or watched Raiden become a tyrant of a guardian of Eathrealm. Your smile fades to a frown as you ponder what Raiden has done since cleansing the Jensei. The memories of his booming voice and electrical fingers snapping a warrior's neck with barely any resistance flash in your mind.

Shinnok takes a half step closer as he eyes the way the red light casts shadows on the smooth plane of your face, highlighting your bone structure. "Raiden has become a monster. I'd rather die by death's hands than a tyrant like him," you say softly as your eyes meet Shinnok's for a split moment before your eyes return to the dulling light outside. It's only mid-day. Something settles deep in the god's heart and twists at his soul. That sweet smile is gone, replaced by a sorrowful, longing look.

You take a deep breath as you force a warm smile his way, "Don't worry about it, Lord Shinnok. You should be more preoccupied with recovering your strength," you say softly to him as you pat the side of his arm, hoping you haven't crossed a line with him. You move back to the doorway before you feel something cool wrap around the top of your shoulder. Your head slowly tilts back to look at him as if expecting him to attack. Nothing happens as he lowers himself to be inches away from your face.

His thumb and finger gently touched where a couple of scars were visible from the deep cut you had endured at some point. His voice is barely above a whisper, "A healer...Not a fighter...With those gentle fingers and voice, no wonder..." he trails off as the realizations flow through him. Everything was finally coming into perspective. Every gentle touch you had placed on him after you decided to try and give him another chance at vengeance. The fact your fingers worked quickly but calmly around each stitch. The way his anger rolls over you. How your smile never withers or fades with his attempts at scaring you. The lack of fear. He understood everything in an instant. You aren't afraid to die. He didn't even think to pry into your mind to pull those thoughts up. But now he feels he has the missing piece—the reason behind you doing this for him.

It's your genuine belief he'll kill you; even after risking both Raiden's rage and the revenant's rage, you'd been expecting him to repay your kindness with death. Your skin burns against the tips of the god's cool fingerprints. The touch is gentle. "Did Quan Chi send you?" He asks.

You laugh before you look at him dead in the eyes, "Quan Chi is off doing god knows what, my Lord. This was all my choice. He doesn't know I chose to do this at all. I wanted to wait until he was gone, a messed up little surprise for him," you say with a soft chuckle leaving your throat. He didn't miss that glint in your eyes when you said the word surprise. His sharp canines showed when you talked. He didn't move from his position behind you. As you turn to look at him, Shinnok doesn't see malice or hatred in your eyes. They're soft. You gently push his chest, telling him silently you need room, but you don't remove his hand. Instead, your hands cover him, and your eyes linger there, admiring the size difference for a few seconds longer.

You feel him exhale on the top of your head before he finally pulls away from your body, allowing you the space you need not to feel crowded. After all, how long had it been since he could breathe on his own? As he goes to speak, the door opens. Quan Chi enters, looking a bit worse for wear. Your blood goes cold at the sight. "Y/n." The one word the sorcerer had left was enough for you to panic. You had lost all words. You quickly move to help Quan Chi sit somewhere as you quickly begin patching him up, giving him hell for letting himself get banged up. He listens and keeps his head down for you as he hears your annoyed words. You give him a light swat to the back of his head, and he groans in pain as you keep working on fixing him up. Quan Chi gives you a pointed stare as he snarls lowly at you.

"Stop squirming, or you'll sew your lips shut," you threaten him. It's an empty threat, and Quan Chi knows it. It's not a threat; if it did, he'd shut his lips tighter for a challenge. But he does behave after that. You're very much a mother hen towards him with how he has no self-preservation in him whatsoever.

"For someone who claims to be a powerful Sorcerer and an even stronger mastermind, you seem to have little to no self-preservation whatsoever," You snap at him as you bind a wound on his arm tightly, earning you a hiss of discomfort. You give him a look that says, 'Sorry.' Even if you were upset at him, you were still nice to him. "Honestly, you're a handful, Quan Chi," you say as you finish patching him up. You watch him before gesturing to look behind him with a slight nod, earning you a confused sound from Quan Chi. As he twists to look behind him, the sound dies on his lips as his eyes widen. He stands quickly and takes a step away. You follow him up to sit beside him as Quan Chi watches him, and Shinnok does nothing but return the stare. You stand next to Quan Chi and clear your throat, pulling him from his staring as if telling him to greet his god correctly.

"Welcome back, My Lord. I see (Y/n) has brought you back to us," He says politely before his eyes flash down at you, taking you in before adding, "My gratitude, (Y/n) for completing such an important task." As if he was the one who asked for it. You smile at him as you roll your eyes at him.

"Any time," is all you say before a sound is made behind the two. They both twist to see Shinnok, seated as elegantly as ever, watching his subjects, "Are you sure there is nothing I can get you, Lord Shinnok?" You ask again gently, even though he refused the last time you offered him something. Quan Chi gives him a bewildered and incredulous look. He can't believe you're speaking like that towards the god and are unphased by him. "I believe you already served your purpose by reviving me, you insolent child," he snaps at you harshly as his teeth bare, clearly not intending to take you up on that offer. You softly chuckle as you smile brightly at his response. His eyes are fixated on the curve of your lips and the shine in your eye when your soft lips quirk. He hates how delicate they look. Shinnok hated how nice his name sounded coming from them, even if he spat it and growled.

"Whatever you'd prefer," You tell him before leaving the room. You turn just before you leave to call out to him again, "Just let me know if you need anything," then go before hearing a retort from the god. Quan Chi immediately snickers once you're gone, leaving the god with him. "They are a ray of sunshine," Quan Chi says sarcastically as he sees the stitches you left on Shinnok's throat. They are nicely done and appear to hold his pale skin together expertly. "Are they foolish or just reckless?" The god asks almost sarcastically how someone can have no fear.

Quan Chi grins, "Somewhere in between, they are too nice for their good," Quan Chi comments, knowing you took a heavy risk doing that alone, for the god known to tear people to pieces without much effort. Yet somehow, you have come out without any injuries or being killed. "They stopped fearing death because of something Raiden did; they don't like to speak about it," Quan Chi comments while explaining how he met you. You had wanted to help Raiden by trying to control revenants by resurrecting him. When Raiden discovered what you did, you tried convincing Quan Chi to manage them. He grew enraged and almost killed you with his powers. There wasn't that same kind of understanding, Raiden—just an angry tyrant who saw you as a traitor. Quan Chi had barely escaped when you struggled to get through the same portal. That scar on your cheek is only part of the damage Raiden did. You and Quan Chi had formed a strange relationship where you'd end up helping one another in the Netherrealm. You leaned on one another, yet your kindness and gentle energy never changed in this place, even after everything. He figured it was because of him. You lasted as long as you did. Your optimism was a bright spot of kindness here, which helped many of the revenant souls. It did ease things on the environment just a bit as everyone was not just angry and violent, just not wanting to kill every waking moment.

You added something missing for many here. You are a ray of light in such an evil and dark place. Many souls and trapped spirits in the realm called you a ray of sunshine. You also fixed the wounds of revenants, Quan Chi, and the demonic beings with no fear. They all enjoyed having you around. Not that Quan Chi would admit such things in front of the god. If he were asked, Quan Chi would say that you would keep everything running smoothly when he isn't there. Then Quan Chi comments, "Even after everything this realm and Earthrealm have done to them, they keep smiling and choosing to believe life can always get better, and eventually when their time comes, they will accept it willingly," Quan Chi sighs as he gives the god a lopsided smirk. "It is hard to dislike them."

"Hence, why do you allow such a weakness to live and serve you?" Shinnok comments as he hums, piecing together what he knows now.

"They worm and burrow their way into others' good graces without even trying," Quan Chi admits as he shakes his head. A gentle smile tugged at his features momentarily as he spoke with admiration. Shinnok knows that isn't true at all. What he knows of humans and the realms shows an ulterior motive hiding in them. With his finger, he gently moved his neck as the feeling of tight stitching became a bit irritating. But when a tiny click is heard, and he can finally breathe, he goes still. Quan Chi speaks your name as Shinnok listens to the door open, and the smell of delicious tea hits his senses.

"Sorry, I figured you'd want some tea, Quan Chi. You usually have some when you get back from your trips," You say as you place a warm cup in front of the sorcerer and then one in front of Shinnok before quickly leaving the room again. His gaze shifts to his cup, and sees a hearty brew with some honey and lemon, clearly made for a throat. Quan Chi quickly picks up his cup, pleased you remembered this weird little ritual you two did: patch him up and bring him tea to help him relax.

Shinnok's hands slowly curl around the mug as he brings it to his lips for a quick sip. The warmth makes his throat relax almost instantly. The faint taste of honey was thick on his tongue, making the drink tasty and rich. The lemon added a spiced layer with hints of spice and sweetness. Quan Chi smirks into his cup as he sees a flicker in the corner of Shinnok's mouth. The slight quirk upward gives the god away for liking the tea you brewed for him. The look was so small you probably missed it, but he didn't.

...

Weeks passed, and Shinnok took his time regaining his strength as his powers slowly returned. His reign, however, wasn't the only thing in the back of his mind. You were constantly a presence. Your gentle voice came to him each morning and afternoon, asking him how he was healing or if he needed anything. With gentle yet quick movements, you would check his healing stitches, clean them, and remove them if required, often smiling each time. How could this gentle soul exist? They are so out of place in this realm. The others will easily be corrupted and fall into the darkness, yet you stay happy, brightening this realm with a gentle kindness that Shinnok was unsure would ever wane. It makes the god wonder as he takes in the sight of you sitting peacefully while reading. He takes note of the subtle details about you, such as how you're perched, curled up on the large windowsill and bathed in light. Every time his eyes see you like this, they linger and travel every inch of your profile.

Perhaps he's been lulled in by your actions, but it's almost like he's curious and drawn to you like a moth to flame. Nothing about you is like the humans Shinnok had encountered. In this room, you were something far more delicate and rare. With his elbow on the table, Shinnok rested his chin on his fingers. A content smile on your lips, unaware the god was studying and appreciating how beautiful you looked right then and there. Shinnok stood with no notice, standing over you before clearing his throat, making his presence known. There was no change in your energy, the bright smile not leaving your lips.

"Yes, Lord Shinnok?" Your voice was soft, which you almost whispered before looking up at his sharp and eerily beautiful features.

"Will you do something for me?" He asked gently, allowing a subtle, tender tone to enter. Shinnok is unnerved at the very notion he can sound soft with you or even talk gently. You put a bookmark into the pages you were on in your book before placing it down softly as you move to stand and stretch. Shinnok catches the arch of your back with ease as you slowly move to pop your spine and muscles. He can't help but watch every movement your muscles and bones make—the soft hiss of pleasure of feeling things moving after sitting so long. After giving a hum, you gave him your attention.

"What do you need me to do?" Your voice isn't coated with malice, worry, fear, or reluctance. Something about how you talk makes the tension in his jaw loosen. He enjoys seeing and hearing you speak. He's drawn to them just as your words wrap around each letter so eloquently. It's like the wind flowing through the air; it's steady.

"Your smile irritates me; I demand it no longer be seen," Shinnok explains, deciding to come up with the most insulting but odd way to ask. There isn't anger in his voice, nor does his expression change. Your smile quickly drops as you watch him, waiting for another word or insult to be said to you. Silence. He isn't used to this. Why isn't his victim starting to get angry, ready to yell or leave? Shinnok waited a second to see if your anger would flare, even a spark.

"Is there anything else you need, Lord Shinnok?" When a few seconds passed, he quickly answered that there wasn't. He watched how you quickly grabbed your book and left for the library. Your energy remained the same, yet the smile that was plastered to your features disappeared without so much as an argument.

It was supposed to be simple, but that smile got in his way and distracted him. He couldn't understand what the soft, curved line did to him and made him feel. Then suddenly, there wasn't a curve. It's just a straight line with no ups or downs. Once you're out of the room, and the door shut behind you, the god feels uneasy at the silence. Did you leave just like that? Why don't you show some emotions? Any sign you are irritated or feel the urge to snap back is there; Shinnok notes each slight shift in your eyes and twitches of muscle as your calm face twists for a split second, only to smooth over again. How did it take one command to remove the source of light in his realm from his presence, and that was all he had to do?

...

Your smile hadn't been seen in a while, and when any asked why you stopped, you'd explain that Lord Shinnok asked for you to stop. Instead, now there is a static, flat look or a soft frown on your face. There weren't many places where revenants or demons could find you. Only two rooms in the castle are likely to have you: either the makeshift medical bay Quan Chi had allowed you to make in one of the spare rooms or the library. Either of those places is quiet. There were very rarely any revenants or demons lingering around as well. Their questions would only get the same response; 'Lord Shinnok asked that it was gone, and so it's gone.' The first time you responded with it, many knew that if Shinnok wanted it, he'd have it. None of them question further as you brush past and into the medical room and set to work on things.

Something about you not smiling was starting to become an issue with Shinnok. That same feeling and familiarity were a thing of the past. Now you are a bitter pill, he had to swallow. Nothing could take your attention away. No matter what anyone said or did to annoy, provoke, or enrage you, nothing. But it stung when he heard you answer the question that is always asked, 'Why aren't you smiling anymore?'

"Lord Shinnok asked it to be gone, so I removed it." Your voice was calm, which sent a shock of confusion down their spines. How can you answer like that with no bite, no sarcasm, and no harsh tone? There is nothing there. Even when angry, Quan Chi at least had an edge or snap of temper that could be felt radiating from him. You don't even give the time of day or raise your voice above the casual, calming tone you usually have. Some of the older and less rambunctious ones had been keeping tabs on you as you looked worn down. Dark circles under your eyes were evidence of lack of sleep. "(Y/n), have you been sleeping?" The question came from Quan Chi, making the god's shoulders taut with tension and curiosity, wanting to hear this conversation.

"No," you let out an exhausted sigh. "I don't have a place to sleep, so when I do sleep, it's usually in the library, hidden by stacks of books. It's not the best, but it works, much to my back's dismay," You admit gently with a shrug to say that it's alright. Shinnok sees how your smile is still gone, yet the exhaustion, pain, and what looks like slight sadness are evident in your eyes and frown. "Why haven't you found somewhere to sleep?" The Sorcerer's voice was confused about how no one helped. Everyone is loyal to Shinnok and him. You'd think that they'd do something.

"Because I'm just a human. I don't think I deserve a space besides what I already take up. We've gone over how much I self-deprecate and loathe myself, Quan Chi," You say, and the whole library falls silent as a shiver goes down the god's spine at your words. You don't believe you should be given much because you are so low, something no one but you saw, yet there wasn't an ounce of untruth to those words. "Why do you think I stopped smiling without fighting, Shinnok, over it?" You add as you stretch and feel your spine pop and crack loudly. There is a collective noise of winces when that happens. Quan Chi looks at you unimpressed as he asks,

"When was the last time you slept? In a proper bed?" Shinnok felt his entire body go cold when you answered. You had not had a bed for the last four years. From what Quan Chi had told him, you'd only been in the Netherrealm for about two years. Not once since being here have you adequately slept in a bed. It seemed odd. From everything he could observe and know, you were helpful and kind to any, even the demons. So why aren't you just demanding a space? Instead, you act like a martyr and punish yourself. That didn't sit right with the god. You kept caring for others yet refused to think you deserved to have that in return. Humans always seem selfish, greedy, and cruel, yet you are almost the opposite, choosing to remain unhappy but never showing it outwardly. Why would you keep putting everyone before you, even if that meant you were sacrificing your well-being? This is where the problem is, with the conflict and unsettlement stirring in him. He can't understand you, which causes a pulse to radiate in him.

"Where in here are you sleeping?" Quan Chi's voice is far gentler than he probably meant. His harshness, violence, and lack of emotion that make the god respect him seem to crack and crumble slowly. Especially when the words, "Usually in a small alcove by the window, thankfully it's warm enough by the window I don't need a blanket," escape you, the reaction is a lot worse, and a sense of frustration and disappointment enter the god's heart, wondering why your selflessness is something you keep up. "You don't have a-" Quan Chi's sentence was cut short as you cut him off.

"No pillows, no blankets, just books and a windowsill," you say as you let out a dry laugh as if trying to ease Quan Chi's increasing distress and discomfort. Everyone goes stiff and silent.

"That can't be safe or comfortable,"

"No, but it works." The quick and matter-of-fact statement that held no amusement or malice struck a chord. "I'm guessing you want to see my little spot, Quan Chi?" Your question is filled with fatigue. Shinnok listens as a soft confirmation escapes the sorcerer. It sounds like a silent question of what you are asking as soon as you wander up several of the large staircases to the large bay window with so many stacks of books around it. You walk up every flight to the top floor to the window. If you lay there, you are wholly hidden from prying eyes or walking bodies, easily missed and hidden from most people. In disbelief, you sit on the windowsill as Quan Chi looks at you and your 'bed'.

"Before you say it, Quan Chi, I've already checked. All of the spare chambers are taken. That includes the medical bay I made, so this is fine for me," you quickly say. There is no hint of annoyance, just an acknowledgement of his doubt and shock. Without so much as a fight, you give in as if accepting this as your fate until your body breaks. "Oh, don't look at me like that, Quan Chi. I'm okay, really; don't worry about me."

"How can I not worry (y/n)? I-" He starts, unsure if he wants to snap in annoyance, but he takes a breath to control himself. "You resurrected me, fixed everyone and anyone's wounds without questions, and even gave our Lord Shinnok his autonomy back! Yet you...you are reduced to this as payment? A thin piece of windowsill in the top area of the library?" A tear slides down your cheek as you fight back your bottled-up emotions. With a sharp sniff, your voice breaks and wavers as you feel something in you give way. "Well, not much I can do, can I?" Your laughter is hollow and filled with a pain that runs so profoundly deep it's bleeding through the edges of your persona. Quan Chi stiffened as he fought against himself to hug you. But the loud click of the top floor's staircase is heard as heavy footfall begins up the steps to reach the floor. Your hand quickly wipes at your cheeks, knowing it is either a demon or Shinnok. You brush your face and clear your throat, trying to regain your composure as the steps grow louder the closer they draw. Quan Chi stands there as he watches you hide in your tiny alcove to push and pull yourself together, to hold the cracks and leaks together with tape like a broken vase. Quan Chi would rather stand there and be a blockage for you than let a demon use your pain to their advantage. You keep trying to breathe calmly as your tears want to fall. You sniffle softly as you fight your issues and fight to hold yourself together despite everything inside you, screaming to let it all out and explode. Your voice stays steady and soft as ever. You have forced yourself to be a strong person that others can see as a ray of hope in this realm. However, on the inside, your self-hatred is at a whole new level now. All you ever do is care for people, but not once has anyone done something so simple for you, yet here you are without a place to rest, and it shows.

Quan Chi knows your emotions are finally rising as your nose grows pink, and your eyes swell slightly and have a shine to them. Something is bubbling under the surface of your soft, quiet composure. Whatever this emotion or thought is, it slowly begins to break away, eroding your hardened shell. How, instead of dealing with your problems, you bottle and bottle and take everyone else's problems to help them as though it will make yours disappear. You've just delayed the inevitable, and the pressure of all your bottled and unresolved problems and frustrations is slowly crushing you like a shaken soda left unopened for too long until the pressure becomes too much for the can to handle and explodes. Your sniffles, minor coughs to try and clear the lumps in your throat, your shakey breathing, and your wiping the tears away are hard to watch. As though a little child lost, Quan Chi takes in the view of how you've been hiding away in the top library so that you won't bother others with your issues. The footsteps are so loud in your ears as you slink deeper into your spot, trying too hard not to be seen.

Shinnok reached the top of the steps. Only seeing Quan Chi standing alone with a tense posture is off-putting. The soft sounds of sniffling hit his ears, along with choked breaths of someone trying to calm themself. "My lord, what are you doing up here?" Quan Chi asks as he tries to play off the situation. You stand quickly from behind the books, your back to them both as you wipe your tears away and clear your throat. Shinnok couldn't place what had Quan Chi tense, worried, and distressed. Or why did you have your back to them? You took a deep, shaky breath as you turned around and bowed slightly towards Shinnok in a show of respect.

The sight of your eyes red and puffy, a slight pink to your cheeks, nose, and ears, the shivers your body has from fighting to just letting your emotions out. It's not so much how you look, but the pain you feel is unmistakable. You had so readily accepted the lack of care. Any other would have fought tooth and nail. Instead, here you are, not even snapping at anyone's behaviour because that's what you were reduced to, having no anger to argue for what is yours. This is what you allowed them all to push you to after doing so much for others. They'd made it, and you took a step back. Without any arguments, you'd merely turn to acceptance with grace and poise like it was what you deserve and should accept. How is that fair, just, or even humane? Quan Chi stands slightly in front of you, acting as a shield as though his presence is a barricade enough against the god.

"Lord Shinnok. With respect, I'd have thought you had better things to attend to than this. What can I do for you?" Your voice is shaky as you fight to stay composed. It sounds painful and worn out. Nothing about your tone has that easygoing air or lightness. It is raw. There is a newfound weight to the title and respect you give. The god looks at you. He can't figure out what to say, and with a quick look from you to the still tense and guarded sorcerer. "Out of curiosity, what are you both up here for, if I might ask?" Shinnok asks as he watches how you won't even look him in the eye.

"Just investigating some rumours," Quan Chi responds flatly and quickly with a serious, monotone, and dismissive tone. Shinnok hears the snarl from his teeth, warning him to drop the question. He won't and sees Quan Chi's fingers twitching with the itch to throw a hex at him, "That wouldn't have any relation to (y/n) hiding away, would it?" Shinnok continues with a sarcastic purr that causes your body to freeze. It seems to strike a chord that only irritates the sorcerer. Quan Chi is stuck between a rock and a hard place with what to do.

"It is," you croak out as you answer for Quan Chi as he sends you a pleading look, not sure where this is going and if the god means actually to do something with this information. The sound that leaves your mouth makes Quan Chi flinch. It's raw, dry, scratchy, and hollow. "How so?" Shinnok asks coolly. The room felt heavy. The tension was thick from one moment, and the next, it felt suffocating. No one moves as Shinnok looks over you and at Quan Chi as he explains.

"They have been sleeping here, in this little nook, for two years. They haven't slept in days from how worn they look." A choked sob leaves you sitting on the windowsill, hiding your face in your hands while Quan Chi speaks. "With how hard they work and heal, fix wounds and listen to complaints, not once have they taken something from here. But when they dare to think this is okay." Quan Chi's tone grows venomous as he looks at you sympathetically. His rage seems so far, yet you've just rubbed the wrong way. You'd been respectful to the deity, never taking what wasn't yours, and tried to repay in knowledge and skills that would be far beyond what some revenants had, but there was no question. The damage is clear as day. You'd been taken advantage of by your kindness and never thought to help yourself. Instead, it is no question that they all took your generosity for granted. The question now was the issue. You may seem okay now, but as Shinnok thought, this was the problem. The signs had all been there. Every last person who went to you about any pain was sent off, treated and relieved, but never once have you complained about or talked of the strain. He glanced around your spot, seeing nothing of comfort—just the windowsill and books.

"Why didn't you speak up?" Shinnok knew his words would get under their skin and dig in like needles, but as you look at him, a sound tears his heart. You gave him his body and autonomy, and you never fought for your needs. "Because I'm fine, I'm okay," your voice is quivering as you fight back your tears and speak up in your defence. However, it sounded false, forced, and broken. "If you were fine, you would've argued and fought back on these choices. Why aren't you doing that now? Or the last two years, for that matter?" You close your mouth. The action was both hesitant and accepting, accepting that it would not hurt to give in to defeat and crumble.

"BECAUSE I DON'T DESERVE IT," you scream. A horrid sob of agony and pain leaves you. "I-" You're at a loss as you lose your composure. You curl in on yourself as you begin to shake and sob, trying to suck air in, to speak and just shut up. Shinnok was right. Even he could hear your pain. Even though it didn't matter if it hurt to bottle up everything that made up who you are. It seemed to bleed from you. It feels so wrong to cry like this to crumble, but now it's like everything had poured out of the bottle that was the straw that broke the camel's back. Everything that held the pressure in was no longer working. It had given way to everything you felt and suppressed. Your breathing was ragged and shuddering, your shoulders hunched forward, eyes closed as the hot tears streamed down your face. You wanted to scream but couldn't make yourself go further.

As though everything was suddenly closing in around you, you felt like the walls of this space were shrinking, the weight and force pushing, crushing you. Your body's shaking is hard to look at as you try to bury yourself and hide. Just wanting to disappear, you were too weak and tired to fight any more. The stress was enough to put a full-grown man on their knees with the force, the magnitude.

Shinnok saw, finally, what it was. What lay beneath the shell was pain and sadness. He understood now that, besides feeling weak, they were used, lied to and betrayed. It was the fear of not trusting a single soul here to ask for something simple, yet you're left on a window seal with no blanket, pillow, and nothing but the clothing on your back and meals that everyone gets. Not one person to share with. Always forgotten about and treated as a rug, there are no questions. So they didn't fight back or protest. Shinnok knew they weren't someone who would do it to others. All of the secrets you kept and listened to. As Shinnok watched, he realised they had always tried; you had helped everyone, yet no one wanted to help in return. But Quan Chi is the person you've looked to the most. You have never relied on anyone here or fought, argued, or opposed those you'd healed. All the nights where you didn't get sleep or you helped fix other's problems.

Your tears ran freely down your cheeks as you gasped out a breath of air. Your throat is thick, and the world seems blurry. As you pull your legs closer, you hope to make yourself smaller and less noticeable to the other two beings as you let loose a whimper. You'd helped them so much, fixed wounds and sicknesses. Everyone in the realm got their fair treatment. The exhaustion makes you feel miserable and frazzled. You hate what your body is doing, and yet you can't stop yourself from being like this, especially around people. Even you are shocked and disgusted as you sit there. With the stress and exhaustion, you begin to hyperventilate, and the tears become an ongoing stream as your gasps fill the air, and you start to cough and hiccup with more tears.

"I'm sorry, I-I shouldn't be crying. I'm supposed to be better than this," you say through shaky breaths. Your heart is beating wildly in your chest, and you keep forgetting to breathe as you force it. Even Quan Chi seems panicked at your state. The look on Shinnok's face is shock and bewilderment. This is the one person who restored his body to him, healed every demon that had ever come to the med bay, and never took anything. You force yourself to wipe your tears as you try and control yourself to regain your composure. Your body feels weak, your head dizzy, your eyes red and raw. Both sorcerers stood frozen, watching in horror as you looked broken. Your voice is uneven, the air filled with broken sounds. You seemed almost ashamed or embarrassed by how they saw you as your apologies slowly flowed from your lips in hopes of taking the attention away from yourself. "I just-" Your whine sent a pang to your chest. The sound that leaves your lips could make an empath break as they have nothing to calm their distress. No amount of reassurance can save them from this pain. Nothing could fix this. There is nothing good enough.

You stand up quickly and try to steady yourself as you suck in a lungful of air, then, with a hoarse cough, you push yourself up and promptly flee without warning. Quan Chi, even Shinnok, stands in shock before following you quickly. This situation felt odd. You'd left behind two confused men, both sharing the same concern. A gasp sounded loud enough to draw attention to who the source was. Shinnok quickly realised that not only were you hurting and pushing your limits, but that was a sign that you weren't taking care of yourself anymore. His heart pangs at that thought, causing him to press to catch up to you.

...

There aren't many places for you to go. You can make it to your med bay and lock the door, just needing a space to cry and recover by yourself. When you shut the door, you can hear someone trying to get in, turning that knob and knocking. You stand there momentarily as though hoping whoever it is will walk away. However, when the knocks turn to a bang and a hiss, your patience snaps, and you know it's either Quan Chi or Shinnok. Even though you'd hate for them to witness this part of you, you find the strength to walk to the door to tell them you don't want visitors.

"Please, just let me pull myself together. I don't want to be seen as weak or be given pity-" your breath hitches, and you can barely speak past the lump in your throat. Your nails dig into the door's wood in desperation. Shinnok makes no response except to listen to the crack in your voice as it breaks. He doesn't even realise. He's wrapped his fingers around the door handle until the rattling reaches his ears. He doesn't hear any steps come from the door. Neither he nor Quan Chi understands fully what you're going through. Shinnok was in his hell, yet this wasn't something he recognised. He doesn't think he can relate to this foreign concept.

When Shinnok's knuckles stop trying to move the locked door, there is no more yelling on the other end of the door to respond. Finally, after ten minutes, you open the door. There you stand, tremoring with shaky breath as you face Quan Chi and Shinnok. For a long time, it's silent, almost deafeningly so. The only thing either Shinnok or Quan Chi can hear is your raspy and sniffling breaths. The eyes are red, puffy, and shiny with unshed tears that stain your cheeks. All the emotions run through your brain. You aren't ready for them, especially now. "This should never have happened," you utter, looking everywhere except at them. Shame eats you from inside; no matter how much you fight it, you can't get rid of it. They see you as the weakest, pathetic, worthless- You feel pathetic right now. No one dares to speak; they watch how you fold into yourself. Neither says a word. There is a ringing that Shinnok realises is the blood rushing to his ears, pounding in his veins as he sees how your hands are shaking and tears stream down your cheeks. "I-I'm sorr-" your voice breaks again.

"Don't apologize." Shinnok has seen his fair share of pain and suffering, yet the expression on his face hurts, his heart aching, and he feels an ache in his chest. He watches as you cry without making a sound. You're gripping the edges of the sink so hard he is afraid the white ceramic will split with the strain. Shinnok takes a hesitant step forward, reaching a tentative hand to grip your shoulder lightly. Your body seems tense and, in a feeble effort, shakes beneath him, trembling and shivering like a leaf and pleading. Shinnok gently guides you and pulls you against his side, one of his long fingers brushing gently over the skin of your arm, giving a hint of touch. He feels the instant shock, his skin tingling as a tremor runs up his spine.

"How is this fair to you?" Quan Chi grits through clenched teeth. His brows furrow slightly as Shinnok stares at you. This isn't what you'd earned. The guilt that builds in his chest makes it hard to think. Seeing your anguish, the pain that comes from somewhere within. He understands and can relate. Pain comes from both inside and out. Yet, it would be best if you didn't suffer like this. You put him back together, and he has not given you your own space to stay. You gave up on Earthrealm and came here only to be mistreated in such a way. They could never repay your debt. Even Shinnok would not act like the others.

"Do you even sleep in your med-bay?" Shinnok demands. His anger and frustration simmer with concern.

"No, just the alcove you found Quan Chi and me in," you whimper out, unable to keep the tone in your voice regular. They both grow enraged again, and your shoulders hunch forward as your voice dies to a squeak.

"So, you are sleeping on a windowsill?" Shinnok asks as his voice loses all anger and bite, seeming more sympathetic and concerned. When you nod, he starts to seethe with his temper and concern. "Find an empty chamber and make them a-," Shinnok begins before you cut him off weakly, still being held against his side.

"I don't have a room because others fill all the spare rooms. The last one was used for the med-bay," you finish, but a fresh wave of tears still slides down your cheeks, but now he can tell why. He can see why Quan Chi had grown defensive when asked why you didn't deserve to sleep in comfort, that you worked too hard and listened to those in pain. His grip on you tightened. He is losing his ability to restrain himself from lashing out and acting like those idiots. Shinnok growls lowly as he turns his head away from you, his anger bubbling out of his chest with a sigh. You'd worked too hard to sleep on a window's edge and a hard, unforgiving surface without a blanket or pillow. You deserved far better, and that was a statement everyone would agree on. "Sleeping on the ground and with the harsh heat is better than nothing," you whisper. Shinnok is too mad for his mind and anger to calm themselves as he hears that coming from you. You were tired, exhausted, and aching from everything you'd experienced. The idea that you didn't have a room for your needs was outrageous. Shinnok and Quan Chi were outraged and angered to learn that, and a look passed between the two that spoke volumes. They both understood. Very few things made Shinnok so livid and furious to feel the full brunt, burning anger, and hurt. They are a shortlist. Yet somehow you, a human, have made it onto the list of things of his you don't fuck with. And how much he detests the idea and feelings.

He felt an icy fire inside his heart as it twisted painfully—a yearning to give something he never gave you: respect. Shinnok always considered himself the god among the gods, better and stronger. As soon as Shinnok's thoughts reached his body, they caused a tremor, sending goosebumps over his arms and making his hair stand on the ends. That shiver feels so different compared to the warmth and familiarity of your healing abilities. You'd spent days on your feet, sometimes sitting in the same spot and, from what Shinnok and Quan Chi had assumed, barely having enough energy and time for a nap or something to eat. Quan Chi looked you over and could feel the pain and the weight of the past two years. They weren't the most straightforward years for either. Their body is lined with new and fading scars. Those marks didn't represent a struggle you hadn't had. While his marks could heal, yours would fade, yet you wouldn't ever recover the scars on the inside. You can wiggle out of Shinnok's overly tight hold and hug Quan Chi, apologizing for making him so concerned about something as stupid as a cry.

"Shut up, do not speak," Shinnok states. When you comply, he is shocked, stunned that you had so quickly heeded the command. No questions. No hesitation, simply complying. Even though Quan Chi can see and feel your trembling, your hands clinging to his sides like you would fall apart at the seams. You seem to curl into his chest and let loose an audible, painful whimper of a sigh. Quan Chi can't even talk as his hands rub your back, and he knows. Despite the vicious glare Quan Chi gave Shinnok for ordering you to stay quiet, Quan Chi is in too much shock and horror that you would listen and remain silent. So obedient to his demands without thinking about the order and its possible repercussions. You loosen your grip on Quan Chi's sides when no other words are said. Instead of saying another apology, you fight to calm your breathing and quiet the water that filled your eyes, taking the time to blink them clear and keep from bursting into tears. You open your mouth to speak but shut it quickly as your lips quiver from the intense shaking. Then, as Shinnok grabs your hand and rubs the inside of your wrist soothingly, his gentle yet firm touch calms you. Your throat tightens, and your mouth forms a wobbly frown before turning away. You wish not to say a single thing. It'd taken everything to stop crying. You feel mortified with yourself that it'd gotten so out of control.

"Get them a room, now." Shinnok's dark tone makes it clear how upset he is at current affairs. Even now, Shinnok is curious about how someone who gives so much to the people here didn't get their private room. The fury he harboured had returned tenfold, the feeling in his stomach getting worse, making him feel sick and repulsed at how lowly his revenants and demons treated you. It's not right for you to feel like this, and while you did deserve respect from the people here, it was to treat you like an actual person and not a toy to play with until it broke or a cheap slave to do the bidding. You fixed him up and put his head back on his shoulders. You should be treated like something meaningful instead of this in his eyes. He knew that you'd suffered enough. His thoughts drifted. He thought of you sitting in the library when everyone was busy to get a quick moment of peace or resting and a night of uninterrupted sleep.

...

The room is so clean, yet he is sure you will take that all away. Quan Chi and Shinnok stand behind you as you hesitantly enter the room. You still haven't spoken since Shinnok told you to be quiet, but your eyes wander around the room, taking it in. The room is beyond luxurious with its furniture and decoration. The silk sheets and plush bed looked highly comfortable; you couldn't believe your eyes at first. Your silence is disturbing, and Shinnok worries that he may have frightened you into not wanting to say anything.

"Do you like the room?" You nod silently as if speaking would have this ripped away from you immediately. Shinnok would not allow you to live like that, though. His voice was softer, kinder as he saw that look in your eye. The look of someone waiting to have it ripped away is a cruel joke. "Are you going to keep that attitude until I permit you to speak?" He's trying not to sound annoyed by how obedient you try to be. You stopped smiling when he told you to, and now you won't speak because of his demand. "Please, speak. Your silence is quite troubling." There's a brief, deep-seated tension before you let your voice emerge in a rough mutter, clearly hesitating to be so bold as to question his request,

"But y-you ordered me not to talk earlier. I'm sorry." That slight, unspoken fear that if he felt insulted, he would lash out. However, it only showed you didn't want him to hurt or yell at him. It makes his stomach turn violently, and he feels the pangs of guilt that run through his veins. A painful throbbing that echoed into his mind.

"You can speak your mind, never stop, and speak freely, without fear or anger," Shinnok mutters as he wraps his arms around you. When had he come so close to you? Why did he hug you, to him? He keeps asking himself as he feels the tremors ripple through your form. You lean into him slightly as your fingers clench around the silken edges of his garment. The relief was so evident. His gentle, almost doting actions cause the shivers to increase to a noticeable degree, but they also make him want to pull you tighter to him. You have him so hooked. Something about how you show him attention makes him want more of it. Something in your manner or touch gets to him every time.

"Start smiling again, would you? It has been something the realm is missing," he adds softly as he lets go, stepping back slightly to give you space. When you crack a faint smile, it eases his fears and concerns as he feels the tensions ease somewhat. You were already regaining a quiet sign of happiness. Shinnok and Quan Chi leave your room, giving you time and space to acclimate to having a space to call yours. Once gone, your fingers are the first to uncurl and trace the edges and smooth the softness of the sheets.

You enjoy how incredible they feel as you wander around the room. Eventually, you walk into your washroom and are excited to shower peacefully. Having a luxurious bathing experience after such a long and arduous time, just allowing yourself to be immersed, is indescribable and cathartic. Once done with bathing, you open one of the wardrobes to see some clothing that Quan Chi had left for you—soft cotton pants and a shirt that feels like you're wearing a cloud. You also see night clothing that you brought from Earthrealm two years ago, and you are glad your clothing isn't ash from the heat. You groan as your body hits the soft bed and sinks into the soft covers and sheets. Your arms hug a pillow, and you remember, from now on, you won't have to sleep against a window or curl up on a hard surface. You can feel your back relaxing against the plush mattress. Sleep finally finds you, and your sleep is restful for the first time in two years.

...

Weeks had passed since you'd gotten a private room, and Quan Chi often visited to see if you were eating and taking care of your well-being. Since you have a space for yourself, you are much better. You look and act more restful. You even started eating better, although he wished you could sleep more. The past two years of not getting good sleep have begun to get to you. It showed whenever you did fall asleep. You slept like a corpse on a hard rock rather than an almost too-soft bed. Yet, when you smiled, he could see the signs that it was making things easier.

You sit in Quan Chi's private kitchen that only he and Shinnok use. Quan Chi sits at the table while you brew tea he hasn't smelt in a long time. Sipping the cup gently, a spark of nostalgia runs through Quan Chi, and the taste makes his ears feel hot. The last time you made this was when you reattached Shinnok's head several months ago. He finishes the tea and closes his eyes, enjoying the comfort of the warm lemon honey tea. He can taste and smell the extra spices and flavours you put in it. The homey aura was comforting after so long. As Quan Chi rests his elbows on the table, an appreciative hum leaves his lips, and a satisfied grin decorates his face. Your tea is excellent. Nothing has changed since the first sip, and you lean on the counter across from Quan Chi, blowing hot steam as you sip some of your own.

"Sorry, I haven't made tea in a while," you murmur as you move across the table from him. A smile lit up Quan Chi's tired face, and his cheeks flushed slightly. When you set your cup down and blink up at him, his mouth suddenly goes dry, and he has trouble swallowing his mouthful of tea. If Quan Chi could purr, you think he would at that moment. The appreciation on his face shows so clearly as he admires the tea. He relaxes subconsciously and sighs as he enjoys the warm beverage. Shinnok walks into the room, sniffing the air with surprise. Your back is to the door, but Quan Chi watches Shinnok enter the kitchen. The Elder god strides up to the tea kettle and pours his cup. Hearing the sound of liquid flowing, you turn around to see Shinnok joining you two. Shinnok smells it as he sits with you at the table. His senses tingle with delight as his tongue yearns for the taste. Shinnok sips and swears he has gone to some new form of divinity. You cannot stop a small smile from forming.

Shinnok sipped at the cup with delight before he had a sudden epiphany. His mind suddenly recalled the taste and feeling the last time this had happened. The previous time Quan Chi was drinking a cup of this, it had been the final cup you made, and then the memories of that day flooded his mind.

"It's been too long since you made this," Shinnok murmurs with a satisfied purr as he drains the cup slowly. Hearing Shinnok praise your skills, you feel proud of your efforts. Quan Chi doesn't say much as the two sip from their cups with a shared look of bliss. You can't help the bubbling warmth you felt seeing that. Their delight was subtle, but both of them could be overly dramatic or have the barest response in these situations. Quietly, they relax, and Shinnok closes his eyes as he drinks the hot tea. Shinnok opens his mouth to take a breath as he pauses his sip. A visible shiver runs down his spine as he downs it. Quan Chi's hands visibly wrap around his warm mug, and he purrs openly at the comforting warmth of the warm drink.

"Well, I'm happy to make more at some point. There is still that teapot full of it," you say softly as a light chuckle leaves your lips. There's a loud gulp, and both Shinnok and Quan Chi scramble to their feet as they see you standing, having set your cup on the counter near the sink. They follow you like baby ducks to the stove and grab their cups, refilling them as they settle in closer to you as you wander around their kitchen. The shared, intimate aura is lovely to be enveloped in. Their motions were fluid and flawless as their eyes focused intently on what you were doing as their free hands rested on the counter. They notice as you walk through their kitchen.

The peaceful quiet and tranquillity fill the air, the taste of tea coating their tongues, and the familiarity of your scent surrounds them. Being close to you, they have never felt such comfort. Both can agree that the smell of your clothing is beyond intoxicating.

"Y/N, did I mention your company is quite favourable?"

"This tea is delicious, please, never stop brewing it."

Both men chatter over each other, fighting for your attention. Although you doubt the true intentions were just the tea. After seeing them fighting, you roll your eyes and giggle. How much could your presence be craved? Your laughter sets them into a state of longing. They were desperate for another laugh, a smile. Yet, you could barely comprehend how you had them so hooked, like a moth drawn to a flame. In truth, your actions and nature got to them both, as you had not spoken one word to harm them, and nothing could ever compare. You're the complete opposite of both of them, yet they yearn for your presence as thirsty men in the desert. Your demeanour is the softness that contrasts their vicious nature, and you don't even realise their want. Even as the tea ends, they are loathe to see your presence disappear from their kitchen. You give them both a bright smile as you leave them in their kitchen. Their eyes don't tear themselves from you until you shut the door. As the door closes, a deep sigh escapes. Quan Chi and Shinnok share in the moping energy as they stare off wistfully in your direction, missing the comfort you gave them. Then the glares start, glaring at one another for looking at you in such lovesick ways. It makes their blood boil, and a strange fire ignites in their chests. It makes the ache worse that both of them have a terrible secret to confess:

They both yearned to go to court and treat you in a way that would make them worthy of calling you their significant other, lover, or spouse. Their affection was not shallow or straightforward; instead, it was much more profound. At least, a thick veil of jealousy had hidden the truth. Their hearts were torn as they stared at each other with contempt. They couldn't figure it out; every time their eyes were focused on your smiling face, they began feeling much more protective and coveting. Each wanted you all to themselves.

Their heated stares met the other's gaze before the snarky comments were uttered. Shinnok smirks cockily at the other sorcerer before his posture is met with a less amused glare from Quan Chi as his smirk evolves into a challenging snarl. With a growing smile that screams that it wants blood, his face relaxes and becomes stonier. Then they exchange words, not necessarily harsh and insulting, but venom-laced words.

...

Their disagreements usually stem from a conversation in which neither person likes the response given. Recently, you became the cause of their arguments, as neither man knew you held a special place in their hearts. How could you be so oblivious that their infighting had all to do with you? Haven't you figured it out yet? As soon as you walked in on their spats, they immediately quit fighting, acting like they weren't. You could hardly see it, yet their fights were most unusual and complex. Something they didn't want anyone else to know or possibly be revealed. They always had to be behind locked doors to keep others from hearing the quarrel and getting involved.

Then, the burning glare and hateful stare are thrown their way when the person is not in earshot. Both men yearned to argue finish in the best way for them, each wanting to win you as a prize to cherish forever. None of them had noticed how far gone they had fallen for your good, kind-hearted nature. How had they not known, had your pure soul broken the walls down? Either way, you'd somehow wormed your way into their hearts, even as cold and callous their beings could be.

How had you tamed the rabid heart of an Elder God and a Dark Mage, a creature of sin and corruption? None knew it; even you remained clueless to their want, although the hints had been sent your way. To them, you're either oblivious or are being willfully blind to their romantic advances, to their apparent, overwhelming desire to have and possess you. Their jealousy is the worst in its depths as it spirals and intensifies each moment they think the other may have taken a step ahead of them. There's a race to capture you as theirs.

You had left the Netherrealm to visit your friends in Outworld, glad to see Erron, Jade, and D'Vorah again. You're delighted to catch up and talk with them again. Jade and you gossip when Erron leaves to help Kotal with something. Jade and you talk about her relationship with Kotal while D'Vorha makes a grossed-out face at the intimate details. You talk about how hard it is to find people who might be interested in you, not a person people. You spoke openly about being poly with Jade and D'Vorah. You talked about how dense you can be to people's romantic interests. It will go right over your head if they don't just come out and tell you how they feel.

Your visit also allowed Shinnok and Quan Chi to argue. They argue violently as they debate whom you genuinely favour. Eventually, they begin discussing because the other won't stop pursuing you without considering their rival's feelings. Yet, that still didn't explain their feelings. Since you were the subject of their mutual love and envy, why wouldn't they argue because they are vying for your affection?

As you and Jade go for a walk in the shopping district, D'Vorah leaves; she always has hated being in public spaces, so you two thought nothing of it. D'Vorah, in reality, contacted Quan Chi while he and Shinnok argued about who would win you. The amulet Quan Chi gave her for communication glows brightly as she waits for him to respond. As his form comes into view from the glow, D'Vorah relays the information to Quan Chi and Shinnok, everything you and Jade spoke of. Both are eager to listen and can't believe the revelations revealed during the women's talk. So you are just oblivious to their affections...But hearing about polyamory is not something they expected to attend. Shinnok had been angry when they realized Quan Chi was probably winning and then when D'Vorah dropped the knowledge bomb they didn't expect. They feel their jaws drop in sync as their mouths dry and gawk at the realization. Their minds take in everything being processed. So, your mind was open to having more than one partner? Their eyes slowly drifted from the orb where D'Vorah spoke and settled on the other. What does one do with this newfound knowledge? It makes their previous thoughts shift, altering the possibility. Their rivalry did not have the moral high ground anymore. Each stood in awe as the thought raced through them.

...

When you return to the Netherrealm from your visit to Outworld, you feel that all too familiar warmth the realm has. That, and the achingly familiar energy of something else. Both men eagerly await your arrival, waiting to take you back to the castle. This is new, since when did they come to pick you up from trips? It's different, but you're not complaining. Seeing Quan Chi's and Shinnok's faces outside the castle walls and grounds is good.

"What are you two doing out here?" Your voice is light as you smile brightly at the both of them. Both Shinnok and Quan Chi swear your smile lights up the already-lit sky. With their arms folded and a neutral look, they respond.

"Shinnok wanted some sunlight. I thought it was a decent day and offered to join," the easy lie falls from Quan Chi's tongue before you can question anything further. The reasoning and story made perfect sense. Besides, the two have been at odds, and walking in the sunlight didn't seem terrible to do together. As you approach, they are unsure how to proceed with their subsequent actions; both suddenly have second thoughts. That is until you wrap an arm around both of their necks, pulling them tightly against you.

"Well, I'm still glad to see both of you," your tone is warm as you pull away after several seconds, pulling yourself out of their personal space. They stand stiffly on either side of you, shocked. Neither can respond. Suddenly, both men's resolve is reaffirmed and restored. If that didn't cement the idea in their minds of pursuing your affections, then what would? Nothing would deter their goal now. They would steal you as their paramour. You would be theirs and theirs alone. Yet the idea of a poly relationship seemed to appeal to them, and there's the idea that if the two can't make you choose, you have two significant others. You would have them both. The love from both men and none could pry the connection apart. Not even that you hadn't realized they were falling in love. Perhaps not as easily won as they had thought? Yet they still long for the affection. If you could not see their affection initially, their love and feelings would surely win.

You walk ahead of both of them, ready to return to the castle, so you've stopped noticing their flabbergasted expressions; you stand ahead, waiting for them to catch up with you. "Well, I'm going home to the castle even if you two aren't," you chuckle softly. 'Home' you called the castle home. That one word had nearly gotten Shinnok's knees to buckle underneath him, and the corner of his mouth quirked upwards. Hearing the word you spoke did something to both, how they treasured the idea of you belonging within the place they had claimed their lair and living quarters. Home...With the word, all worries melted away from Shinnok. Although your back is to both, you hadn't caught on to the dumb grins Shinnok and Quan Chi sport after hearing that. The walk back is comfortable as you chat and catch up. For the remainder of the day, the air is calm and pleasant. Their bickering has gone unnoticed. They need not argue over you anymore, for their plan has changed. All they need now is the proper timing to adequately convey their affection for you. The courting has started.

...

As you look across the room to Shinnok's library, it is strangely quiet; usually, the men talk or go on a project or mission they have been assigning revenants to. Lately, they have been very secretive and avoiding you at all costs, constantly disappearing behind locked doors. Neither man will acknowledge your presence, making you feel terrible. As much as you enjoy the library, there's a cold tension hanging in the air that makes you avoid it at all costs. Yet your love for it always calls you back to sit for hours reading, studying magic, or doing whatever is on your mind. There's no reason for you to stay or run off right now. Although the air feels thick, no danger or panic comes from them. You find a small spot to hide and read as soon as you enter it. Shinnok and Quan Chi enter the library, speaking to one another; they don't know you are in there.

"They probably think we are avoiding them."

"How have they not noticed by now?"

"Affection doesn't come as easy to you or me."

The voice was deep, husky, and agitated as they spoke, yet not directed at you. Shinnok growls and Quan Chi is exasperated, their voices rising as their annoyance rises. "We haven't made ourselves apparent to them," Shinnok says as Quan Chi keeps his mouth shut, almost contemplative. You move to get a better look at what they are arguing about. Their heated words are easy to hear as you're hidden between two shelves. Shinnok is not a soft talker. Quan Chi is just a loud. Neither seems to hear as they get even louder.

"Both you and I know it will never work." Shinnok sighs as their anger rises, and his expression twists. His face contorted to a snarling before they both heard you clear your throat from the floor above them.

"So, who's the lucky demon?" You chuckle softly as you lean over the railing to see them both. Each looks like a deer caught in headlights at your appearance. Even though anger still burned in Shinnok's milky-white eyes, the blush on their faces was enough.

"Huh?!" Both their mouths and their hearts speak for both of them. Both have confused tones, and their hearts pound viciously as they lock eyes, clearly horrified. Yet Shinnok's and Quan Chi's expressions morph to reveal a hurtful glare as they return their attention to you.

"I mean, I overheard a bit of your conversation. I can't say I'm not interested in knowing what demons have stolen your hearts," you say as you lean on your hand. You're pretty relaxed now; all three of you are in a much lighter mood. After hearing your confession, the rage-fuelled arguments are paused; instead, there's a rising panic in the air as they share glances.

"You think demons are my type?" Shinnok hisses lowly. The glare becomes more challenging, a sharpened dagger honing into an almost unnerving focused gaze. Neither wanted to confess, so what are they to do? You roll your eyes and walk away from the railing and out of their view. You could handle demons and beasts; that's a little difficult. Your book can wait; you sigh inaudibly as you feel something churn in your heart, something you didn't listen to. Not in a realm like this. You felt a bit heartbroken that they both seemingly found a person. Or persons, that wasn't you. But who are you to demand their affection? As you walk deeper into the library, you shake that sadness from your thoughts. No, you didn't even hold a place in their hearts...Why did that make your chest ache? Did the library's air affect you? That must be it. Neither even knew. You're clueless about the double-edged secret. You are their muse, their object of desire. You're everything. You're all they want, all they ever talk about. Yet they refuse to admit or confess. There's no way. It'll ruin the illusion. Yet their affection isn't shallow or fleeting...

You can hear two sets of quick, loud footsteps coming up the stairs, and as you look up, both men are trying to approach you, although both hesitate. There's a growing panic as each meets eyes, suddenly fearful. You've never seen the fear-ridden looks they exchanged before. You smile weakly; this conversation had to happen, or something had to give. It hurts you to watch the fear etched onto their faces. So much is unsaid. How are they to put their affections into words without causing strife? Both are afraid to shatter your friendship. Neither want that. Yet you feel the rift from the silent treatment, the fear from opening their souls, the unrequited love...Wait, love? Is this love you're feeling? Is there any room for such a flower in this place, surrounded by evil, death, and decay?

Quan Chi and Shinnok blink back, a nervous stinging behind their eyes. The tension is suffocating, and they can't help but share one final look. No words, yet they share a fear; neither wishes to part from the other. Yet neither can keep their silence forever. One has to confess...Or all of them.

"So, tell me about these demons that have stolen your hearts," you give a dry laugh as you try to soothe the atmosphere. Your hand lightly dusts your neck, an anxious gesture, wanting them to speak, anything. A reaction is better than their silence.

"This isn't a joke, (y/n)." You meet Quan Chi's angered glare. Why would you joke about such a matter? The quiet hiss had a threatening air that surprised you and got your full attention. The man is usually much calmer; this aggression isn't like him, yet there is some understanding in the background. To his credit, Shinnok is remarkably composed despite the intense rise and fall of his chest and the bared teeth.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. I'm genuinely interested to hear about whoever has your affection," you genuinely wanted to know who the recipients were. You couldn't fathom it, but you knew it was their business to speak of; maybe this was their way of telling you they had moved on. The anger passes by both men as you're entirely genuine, and they exchange an exasperated look and let out a sigh.

"You..." The sentence was barely over a whisper and easily misinterpreted.

"Hmm? Are you worried I'll steal them? Please, I could never!" You're completely clueless, only causing the pain to increase in your chest. They both are disappointed that they cannot confess directly. Their pride. Such is their biggest downfall. Yet the longer they keep the charade, the worse this will all be.

"You're the demon who's stolen our hearts," their voices echo as they stare down at you, the whispers mixing into a heavy tone filled with honesty. The air surrounding them all becomes tense again; no soul moves.

"Me?" you point at yourself, almost uncomprehending. Your heart beats against its bony cage in its chest, unsure what this meant or what their words mean. You could only stand there and stare in confusion, eyebrows furrowing in.

"I thought your species could read body language," Quan Chi scoffs at you as his arms cross and a brow raise, clearly impatient. Although his voice remains neutral. Shinnok's fury starts to bubble. You can't help the soft, nervous laugh from bubbling up in your chest as your face blooms with warmth and it travels from your ears down your neck. You have this giddy feeling like a school child with their first crush. You can't look at either of them as you feel your face warming up quickly. Your eyes shift to focus anywhere else than the pair, mainly the ground and books behind them, so you miss the warm, loving look they are giving you. Their mouths curve up as their faces break into broad smiles. Neither expected the reaction or the acceptance.

"Is this a confession?" Both of them move forward until they are a foot from your frozen frame; their proximity is comforting as neither crowds. Instead, their bodies mirror their facial expressions, and genuine smiles form. Their body language screams comfort and support, welcoming the invitation they are giving off. While your laughter rings, they focus on you as your hands rest on either shoulder. They still when your lips connect briefly with theirs. Both would lie if they said they weren't happy with the gentle kiss. It was something so pure and affectionate and nothing more than a peck. The lovesick sighs that escape them both are very loud in the ample space, yet none notice.

"So, what does this make us now?" your smile reaches your eyes.

"You can consider yourself ours, our significant other," the words from Quan Chi's throat were tender yet matter-of-fact. Shinnok hums, nodding his head, and he listens to Quan Chi and grins like a madman. You gently smack each other's chests in playful retaliation, playfully giggling, before they're close to you, crowding you against the railing. Their eyes show love and devotion, and so does their behaviour.

"Hey now," there is a warning in your voice. You're met with a flash of red before Quan Chi kisses you sweetly, pulling your body flush against his, savouring every second. He holds your face lovingly, cradling it as he deepens the kiss. You don't get long to catch your breath before Shinnok replaces his mouth on yours and takes full advantage of your slightly dazed state, drinking in the love you radiate. You can't even pull apart for another breath before you're brought into Quan Chi's arms. He nuzzles your face lovingly as you're a bit shaky and light-headed. This wasn't unexpected, just overwhelming; you aren't used to being spoiled. You could've stood there forever with them both pressed against you, their warm presence easing you into their affections. Yet the day is still young, and they need to attend to some projects. For now, there will be a new routine for them. To check-in and spoil their new significant other.

...

While they hesitated to let go and continue their day, they had many experiments and time-sensitive reports waiting to be seen, heard, and read. And with a proper promise from them both, they reluctantly retreated to tend to them, their energy leaving the library. You feel so flustered and giddy from all of this. After an hour of mindlessly staring and reading and re-reading, you also take your leave. You didn't have much to do since you hadn't had any new patients come to you needing to be patched up. Some time alone would be welcomed; this gave you plenty of time to reflect and prepare for what is next for the future with Shinnok and Quan Chi.

You wander around but find yourself in the kitchen brewing tea mindlessly. Just as it finishes, Shinnok and Quan Chi stand together outside the small kitchen space, watching you prepare. From the angle and the doorway, neither man can be spotted by you. So they watch and drink in all you have to offer. Their lips twitch upwards as they see how deep in thought you are. Your mind is constantly working over something, and they see that. You pour your tea, careful not to spill it. Once you're finished preparing your cup, you call out to both.

"I know you're both there," you chuckle when the shock registers. They seem shocked you can hear them so well; your ears are just as keen. As they step forward, they find that you made them their cups. They know this smell all too well. The tea makes them relax beyond any reason. Theirs and your favourite, yet you still refuse to tell them the name of it or what is in it.

"Ah, that smell. Delightful." Quan Chi groans with content, sniffing profoundly and savouring the scent. He doesn't realize the shudder that passes through his body as he breathes it all in. That particular spice in the tea overtakes his senses. Quan Chi can't describe why it's so good, but it immediately relaxes. Shinnok watches closely and smirks a bit, hiding it behind his mug. You watch how they both melt, their features softening as they take a long, long drink from their respective cups, gulping loudly. The shudders aren't hidden, nor is the growl that emanated deep inside them. You always enjoyed the reaction their bodies and souls gave. Your soul flutters, almost vibrating with your heart beating. You can't help the joyous smile spreading over your face. You were happier to see your two new lovers relaxed. With each other and yourself, especially now knowing how much it all meant to you.

"You both look so handsome when you're relaxed like this," you say softly as you sip your tea. You can hear them both choke, if not nearly spit out their respective sips. "You okay there?" You watch them as a devious thought passes through your mind. And the smirk that plays over your features is not missed. They can't answer as they try to cough up a lung from how quickly they tried to inhale their drink instead of spitting it out. The tea's heat made their already darkening cheeks glow. Once they managed to catch their breath and the lightheadedness cleared up, the embarrassment over their previous state replaced it. They turn to each other and grimace. There was no winning against you. You give a few pats to the parts of their forearms you can reach, causing them to shudder again.

"We are more than okay." That came from Quan Chi as they shared a glance and an embarrassed grimace, unsure what else to say. Each man wants to communicate their overwhelming emotions. Shinnok doesn't even say anything before a scarlet hue paints his cheeks, his thoughts catching up, and his soul swirls inside, pounding like a war drum. He can't speak, and the nerves cause his mind to shut down completely. Your laughter dies into a soft, content sigh as you smile at them. Both couldn't be happier to be in your company. It's soothing and has a familiar calming quality. They each try to school their expressions, keeping their thoughts quiet before either act on them.

...

You lay in your bed, your shorts and tanktop pyjamas hanging loose on you while you lay on your back. You enjoy the calmness your room brings you after this past week. While comfy and warm in bed, it's missing some warmth, a warmth the weather or your blankets can't provide. As your mind starts wandering and your eyes shut, sleep creeps up, lulling you. Though it isn't there yet, your brain has taken note and your body tenses. You're fully alert when your door opens. You bolt up in bed, ready to pounce and attack or run, but you ease upon seeing a familiar man standing there, Quan Chi. You let out a relieved breath as your body relaxes.

"What has gotten you all jumpy, pet?" You didn't notice his eyes roamed your figure, now very relaxed.

"You didn't even knock; scared the hell out of me," your complaint is flat as you lean back slightly and crack your neck. Quan Chi snorts as he leans against the door's frame and chuckles. The sound of him laughing is quite musical and attractive.

"I don't see why you're all concerned. It is not like you have anything to worry about," he doesn't seem amused. The rumble of his voice is seductive to you.

"Still doesn't explain why you're creeping in my room at three in the morning," he knows better, yet he still teases and smirks while sauntering to you. You have half a mind to ignore his behaviour and tell him to leave and be more courteous, but you notice he doesn't meet your eyes, and his body is tense. Like he is afraid, you'll snap. You sigh, tired, as you pat a spot next to you; his steps are soundless as he lays down next to you.

"Quan Chi, you should know better. Why are you here this early in the morning?" While you give him the third degree, you've noted the darkness under his eyes, how dark and heavy his skin is and how ragged his breathing is. As much as you want to scold him for his manners and to break in, you have to consider that he did walk in without knocking; the latter has his reasons, whether personal or business-related.

"You must be tired of being this rude. Go to bed." You playfully bump into him and gently pull him down beside you. The pillows are nice and soft against his head, and they envelope and cradle him so well. You're pretty comfortable, too. How you caress his cheek and trace the tattoos on his skull is soothing as you rest your forehead against his. He has no problem obliging you.

"You look exhausted," his arm reaches across to wrap itself tightly around your waist as the words ghost over the bare skin on his chest. He can't control his body and soul. Quan Chi doesn't realize he lets out a shuddered breath as your nails softly drag across the skin of his scalp. An encouraging sound rumbles and vibrates from his chest, almost akin to a pleased purring sound from a giant beast. His head angles, eyes fluttering in relaxation, and his body sinks fully into your mattress as you massage and trace his skull and tattoos. "Go to bed. You need rest." The words are gentle and filled with compassion.

He is happy to let you comfort him and relax his muscles, bones, mind, and soul. They haven't been soothed and made to relax in aeons, if ever. Relaxing for once is very cathartic and soothing to the warlord. With his face hidden against the pillow, he could finally close his eyes and let himself be a person. You kiss his cheek as you hear him murmur words of love and appreciation for his significant other. And that is when the tiredness sets in; sleep becomes more effortless. He holds you and curls his body to yours. He falls asleep swiftly. His entire aura and demeanour relax significantly, which you're grateful for. This would help him stay and think with a clear mind. He deserved eight hours and will get it whether he wants it or not.

...

The quiet creaking of your bedroom door awakens you. The sun is up, shining through your windows, but it is early enough in the morning to keep it dark. But even that slight beam blinds your eyes, making them squint.

"Where are you going?" You murmur as you roll and wrap your arms around Quan Chi's waist. You kiss the small of his back, and your fingers trace circles into the pale skin. The touches earn you a low growl; a chill rushes through your spine and down your back. You squeeze and wrap your hands over the toned muscles, humming, which startles him and freezes him in place.

"To attend to my duties. I shouldn't be long," Quan Chi starts to stir in your grasp.

"No, stay, you're so warm and cosy," you whine, half asleep, placing another soft kiss on his lower back, tighten your hold around him and wrap your legs over his thighs, refusing to let go or budge.

"I won't be too long," he wants to see where the touching and kisses lead, yet he can't give into that. You let out a high-pitched noise of disappointment and squeeze him closer, unwilling to let go or wake up to an empty bed. You yawn and stretch, but your arms and legs refuse to uncoil or untangle from Quan Chi's torso and limbs.

"No, don't leave, please," you whine more, nuzzling your head against his warm back. Your warm breath caused him to shiver. He takes a deep breath, clearly enjoying your affections and actions and wanting to savour more.

"You're adorable," he chuckles softly. You smile wide, placing several soft kisses on his skin. Your hands gently knead into his muscles, and you feel him shuddering from your touch, which causes him to inhale sharply. You have your revenge. His sounds and reactions prove you were right. Quan Chi lays in bed with a half-grin on his face, rolling and staring at you.

"Needy thing, aren't we," your grumbling response earns a hearty laugh from the man, who rolls himself and curls around you, kissing you passionately and pinning you underneath him. You don't fight against his forceful ways, even if he had not fully displayed it.

"Thank you," you murmur against his neck as you nuzzle into him, hugging his ribcage tightly. His eyes drift shut as he returns your hold, squeezing and letting his breathing fall in time with yours. Both of you drift back off to sleep in the warm sunlight together. It is hot under the sheets and within his arms; it's the type of comfortable warmth one can never tire from, the kind you feel through the soul and the most effective to melt the heart. He never wanted to leave, nor did you want him to. The one time you both overslept the day away, neither minded at all.

You wake up again and feel Quan Chi holding you tightly to him as he snores. The noises are high-pitched and endearing, and you can't help the laugh that falls from your mouth or the large grin as your heart melts for the sleeping man. He sounds and looks content and satisfied. You hear a gentle knock on your bedroom door as you admire his sleeping form. Quan Chi jumps slightly in his sleep but is still out cold. Your head perks up as you make a noise of acknowledgement, telling whoever to come in. Shinnok greets you. He looks stressed and annoyed, only for it to melt off of his face upon seeing the two of you. He stands and stares, stunned, before coming back into focus.

"So that's where he's been," Shinnok speaks with a pleased, relaxed smile, entering fully and coming closer, but he stops just before your feet, looming. Quan Chi's forehead is pressed against yours, and his nose is right under your jaw. His arms cradle your frame, but his upper body weight rests partially on you.

"Comfortable?" Shinnok asks curiously as he watches.

"Quite," the affection on your face melts Shinnok, who swallows and tries not to stare too intently. "I felt needy and didn't let him get up, so don't be mad at him. He fought bravely against me," you add with a soft giggle as Quan Chi hugs you tighter in his sleep.

"Oh? Needy, are you?" Shinnok hums softly. A dangerous note enters his tone that doesn't register at first with you.

"He started it, waking me up by trying to sneak out. So I made him curl up with me a bit longer," you grin as you slip an arm off Quan Chi and pat the spot next to you. You then turn your upper body, pouting and looking at him pleadingly.

"Please, join us," your eyes do not hold their playful mischievousness anymore, though your hand is beckoning him.

"Perhaps later, doll, I am-" but Shinnok can't finish. Not as you gently catch his hand and tug him down, and in surprise, his eyes go wide, and he falls forward and onto his stomach. Thankfully, his momentum and the light tugging don't rouse Quan Chi, the only movement being him curling closer, further pressing you into the man.

"Oh no, did you trip, dearest?" You tease as you pull him against your back, holding his arm and hand against you to keep him held there. "Come on, it's warm, join us." You begin to rub circles on his back while smiling and adjusting the position, your hands gently stroking his hair as he lets out a shocked yet pleased huff. Shinnok didn't wish to overstep the boundary; that was not his way. The former elder god moves into a position where he's comfortably lying. He hugs you against his chest, spooning and wrapping around you, trapping you between his body and Quan Chi's; he relaxes after you purr, which eases him.

Shinnok and Quan Chi remain silent, both appearing to sleep with you. Your grip doesn't loosen as you smile warmly, listening to Quan Chi's even breaths, but you also feel Shinnok's nose pressing to the nape of your neck as his breathing deepens, the weight of his body changing slightly as it relaxes and feels slacker than before.

Your eyes drift, the warmth surrounding and consuming you as you're sandwiched between two sleeping lovers. For some unknown reason, you're sure this isn't the last time you'll be sandwiched between their chests. All your thoughts, worries and concerns vanish as you melt. Eventually, a sleepy mumble escapes Quan Chi and sends his warm breath caressing your neck. You gently kiss his nose as you rub soothing shapes into his back, easing him back to sleep. Your nuzzling encourages him back to sleep. Before you shut your eyes, Quan Chi whispers a drowsy thank you to you for relaxing him and letting him sleep. Your brain isn't fast enough to return the thanks to Shinnok, who nuzzled the back of your neck and wrapped his limbs even tighter as a reassurance of your affection. Your eyes slipped close, and it wasn't long after that you all had fallen back asleep, leaving behind a pile of tangled limbs, blankets, and satisfied sighs. It has never felt more perfect, and you are ready to be wrapped in it whenever possible.

...

You let out a groan as you stretch slightly, feeling a warm body squishing you on both sides. "Too warm," you grumble as you rub the sleep from your eyes. As you're fully aware now, you sit up and gaze at the sight that was your sleeping companion. After another quick yawn, you notice Shinnok shifting; you hope he isn't upset that you pulled him into bed.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" You lean and ask as you brush your thumb across his temple. "Oh, don't look so sour. I think you enjoyed yourself plenty." He rolls onto his side and away from your touch with a huff. A massive grin spreads across your face, knowing he can't lie to you, which seems to anger the elder god as a deeper scowl settles across his features. Shinnok pulls a pillow over his face to avoid you or the possibility of responding.

"You are such a cat," you joke, running your fingers down his side. A chuckle slips from his throat, his whole frame vibrating and shaking as he does. While your hands are busy tracing shapes into his skin, the third person in the room stretches. Quan Chi had rested and recovered well.

"Good morning," you coo at Quan Chi, kissing his nose softly. Shinnok grabs the hand you're caressing him with. You were paying no attention, or you would have noticed how annoyed the older man looked. He could barely keep his jealous thoughts in check. He was much closer to having an outburst than you had believed. You move your hand and intertwine your fingers with his. You let out a breathy groan as you sit up and stretch your ribs. Each time the action occurs, you do so with a pleased hum, and they crack loudly.

You lean down and kiss Shinnok on his nose like you did Quan Chi's, giggling as his eyes widen. His expression is priceless. It shows how much he wants a repeat. When Quan Chi stretches, his body shifts, and he moves and lets out a strangled, muffled grunt and a popping noise. You giggle again as Shinnok scowls deeper; the sight alone causes you to kiss him. He should show you more emotion because seeing him squirm as he pulls away is fun. The affection leaves him pleasantly surprised, speechless.

"Let's go. I need to shower and try to save my terrible sleep schedule. Which was all your fault, I hope you realize." He hears the playful, accusing tone as he exits the bed. His feet barely make a noise as they brush against the wooden floor, and you raise an eyebrow as his shirt rides up. He raises his hands in the air while stretching his stiff limbs, showing off a bit of skin. His mouth opens and stretches slightly, his teeth showing. He looks sleepy still. His movements and the way his hands push, grab and pull down seem graceful and elegant, no matter how sluggish Quan Chi was. The best thing is his pleasant sound, a low-key hum in his throat that sounded more like a grunt. It's almost cute and has the slightest touch of feral.

You slip out of bed behind Quan Chi, ready to deal with today begrudgingly. You also wonder what their mornings are typically like. Both men are quiet, but you assume it is simply for the same reason you are. Quiet stretches and groans fill the room as each man goes through their morning rituals. Quan Chi stretches tall again, and his bones give another satisfying crack in his spine, shoulders and knees.

Shinnok grumbles as he rolls out of your bed to get dressed and groomed, ignoring your presence for the most part. Quan Chi sits on your bed with a bewildered and amused smile.

"What?"

"Is he always in such a lovely mood in the morning?" You ask as you let out a yawn that turns into a high-pitched squeak. It shows your teeth. Quan Chi is stifling a laugh from how loud and obnoxious that squeak is. A few more squeaks accompany the stretch. There's a shift of your upper body, followed by an extended groan, a crack, a snap. Oh, that felt wonderful. You let out a moan that catches both men's attention; their hands freeze on the buckles they are securing and buttoning.

"Ahh, that felt great," you breathe as you pop your neck. You beam with enthusiasm and a spring in your step. Their minds race and fill with images and visions of what else would earn those delightful sounds from you.

...

You're outside with Shinnok and Quan Chi while they interact with the demonic horses they raise. Your back is sore and won't pop, no matter what you've done. You sit with D'Vorah, who you've learned works for Shinnok. The two of you chit-chat before you figure you'd ask her for help.

"D'Vorah, weird request, but. Will you hug me hard enough to crack my back?" You ask as you look over at her. She gives you a weird look as if confused.

"This one will help you. Just give detailed instructions," she replies as she stands up. You will never understand why she refers to herself as 'this one', but you won't bother with that now. You grin as you stand and explain what you need her to do. She wraps her arms around your back and squeezes you tightly to her. You and D'Vorah both hear and feel your spine crack and pop as she works her way from the top of your spine to the bottom. The moment is cut short by Quan Chi. His reaction isn't violent.

"What. Do you think you're doing?" He calmly asks. You frown as he tries to step closer to you.

"I'm having her crack my back," you reply as your back lets out a loud crack. Your head is on D'Vorah's shoulder as you lean into her for support while she helps crack your back.

"By. By doing what exactly?" Quan Chi narrows his eyes at you, then turns and glares daggers at the bug woman. D'Vorah tilts her head.

"I'm having her squeeze me as tightly as possible on my spinal cord to make them release so I can be more comfortable," you sigh as a deep crack is heard coming from your shoulder blades. You feel her arms move lower as she keeps going. The jealous glare that you can see from Quan Chi is ridiculous. You can hear Shinnok clear his throat, just as jealous of the sight.

"It feels so good," you let out a groan of relief as more pops and cracks are heard. Your hands lay limply on her hips as she keeps going. Your knees buckle when her arms make it down far enough, and a loud, satisfying pop is heard.

"There we go. No more pain?" D'Vorah softly smiles. Her hands slowly slip to your hips as her grip disappears, giving you space to pull away.

"Much better, thank you so much, D'Vorah," you sigh as you pull away, giving her a warm smile that makes your nose wrinkle. You can almost see the jealous aura coming from both men as they glare daggers at D'Vorah. You fully pull away from her and walk towards your partner as if what happened was normal.

"Was there something you needed me for, Quan Chi?" You ask with a happy smile as you look up to the angry and very jealous sorcerer. He's barely holding himself together, and his face says it all. His teeth are grinding, jaw tight with tension, eyebrows knitted together, fists clenched at his sides, his fingernails digging into his palms, and his legs stiff and unmoving.

"Love you," you coo as you kiss his cheek along with Shinnok's as you walk past them both. D'Vorah goes to take over Quan Chi's duties. Before he's about to blow. You were far too comfortable with a being that isn't them. A possessive, jealous urge rises through them as they watch you walk away with a small spring in your step. You've never really understood the fuss with possessive men. You don't see D'Vorah as anything more than a good friend.

You sigh as you wander into the stable, seeing the prized horses Shinnok had been raising for what you could only imagine was centuries or not more. You find these animals both beautiful and disgusting with how they have exposed goat skulls. You know it's because they are technically still demons, but you do like how they are somewhere between a horse, goat, and ghoulish demon. They are such amazing creatures, but in a creepy way, just like their masters.

A quick flash of jealousy strikes them as Quan Chi sees your affection for his or their horses. Regardless of ownership, the idea of anyone besides Quan Chi and Shinnok being the receiver of that adoration was unfathomable. Shinnok's irritation stems from watching you being overly affectionate towards others, including D'Vorah. And all while not showering your affections on him and Quan Chi.

"Hello, handsome, yes, you." You coo softly as you gently pat the red stallion. The horse whinnies and leans down. It knows who you're talking about. You reach out and scratch his snout with a toothy smile. "You are so lovely, yes, you are. Very good boy. Who is such an amazing horse." The stallion nudges you affectionately as the affection. You will probably never get used to the sound of your nails against its bony nose—the idea of riding him, though you're excited.

Quan Chi moves silently and takes your side. The stallion's head swivels, and he stomps and paws his hooves at the ground near Quan Chi and then lays his head against you and lets out a loud snort as its head is flat against your chest. You giggle as you pat the animals' ears while Quan Chi stands near you, looking beyond jealous.

"You are such a big sweetheart," you coo at the animal. The horse perks his ears up to listen more closely. Your fingers loving stroke over his leathery skin, the coarse fur seeming like velvet compared to the leather texture beneath; he leans into every movement, enjoying your touches immensely. You kiss the animal's skull as you hug it gently, being careful of its glowing red ram horns. Quan Chi grits his teeth, and his jaw clenches as he glares at the red horse.

Shinnok enters after hearing a commotion; the jealousy between Quan Chi and the red horse grows quite a bit. You gently scratch between the red stallion's eyes. You keep whispering sweet nothings and compliments as the stallion relaxes.

"Such a sweet guy, aren't you? Such a good boy, who's the best you are. Yes, you." You coo quietly as Quan Chi and Shinnok grit their teeth. "Good boys get treats," you speak sweetly and without judgment towards the creature. The soft expression you've always been using is warm and inviting and all too quickly becomes a lovely target for these two. You were pulling a thread that led to feelings of possession. You give the animal a treat as you coo and giggle softly as its tongue licks your hand as it gobbles the snack up.

"Who's a sweet boy who loves getting pets and treats?" Your nose crinkles as you grin wide. The stallion shuffles slightly. You don't notice the growl or the clenched jaws. Your eyes sparkle as you look towards both of them. You are enjoying yourself, even if you shouldn't be. "He's a very good boy," you hum quietly, patting his snout with a loveable grin. The stallion grunts and snorts loudly in agreement. Shinnok clears his throat, drawing your attention to him.

"Come along, pet," Shinnok commands as you turn to him. Before you could think, you let out a breathy response of an 'Oh please,' causing Quan Chi and Shinnok to exchange glances before returning their jealous and territorial gaze upon the beast. A growl comes from their lips as they stare down the demon horse. The demonic horse lowers its head to stare back at them.

"Don't tell me you're both jealous of a horse," you laugh as you pat the animal again. A very soft glare is settled in both men's eyes and their muscles tensing, showing they are getting angry, with a bit of disbelief on their features as well, at the accusation of them being jealous over a mere beast, no less, the irony and hypocrisy are not lost to them.

"No. Of course we're not," Quan Chi replies, his eyes staring intently into your own. Your eyebrow is raised. You didn't quite believe that, although they have facial expressions of disgust towards feeling this way.

"You're an awful liar," you tease lightly. His gaze hardens at you. He's annoyed. Quan Chi has no problem glaring, but it was more intense this time. It's borderline harsh, and honestly, you did find a part of it intimidating, like he's displeased with your tone. You pat the animal's nose before you walk out of the stable. You raise your brows at him, not impressed with his behaviour. Shinnok shakes his head and places a hand over his eyes, pinching his nose and groaning. You could have sworn the two are growling towards the demonic stallion, but maybe it's the wind. The atmosphere has a light chill but is otherwise lovely. The two follow after you before they lock up the building.

You wander back into the castle with no genuine concern or worries. You keep meandering until you make it to the library. You find a book that you've been meaning to read as you sit in the middle of the loveseat that you begged Shinnok to add in there for you. After about 15 minutes, the two men walk in. They sit on either side of you as they slightly loom over you.

"Something bothering you two?" You ask as you turn to the next page of your book. You've got a smug grin; you knew something was off with these two, but you can't pinpoint it.

"What did D'Vorah do to crack you back," Quan Chi asks.

"I had her bear hug me with all of her strength. It helps release built-up pressure in the spinal cord," you reply calmly as you put a bookmark in your book, smiling up at him.

"That was the only time?" Quan Chi asked, his voice wavering slightly with worry. You roll your eyes. The fact it wasn't obvious worried him.

"She squeezed me like that one time before, Quan Chi. If you're scared that she'll 'steal' me, you have nothing to worry about. She and I are just friends, and that's it," you gently touch his and squeeze lightly. You do the same for Shinnok as well. Their eyes turned to meet yours. Both had worried looks; anyone could've picked up the possessiveness and jealousy.

"This is about the fucking horses, isn't it," you groan. Their jaws clenched, but that seemed to be in the correct spot. Quan Chi looks away from you before muttering that it wasn't the horse. You scowl before putting your book down and standing.

"What do you want me to call you both good boys and feed you snacks?" You ask clearly, trying to make them laugh. All you get are blank stares. They would prefer that over nothing.

"Of all the things to get jealous over. I prefer both of you over an animal!" You let out an annoyed groan before pacing the room.

"If I knew your other half was so important," Shinnok says in a deadpan tone.

"Shin, I've always had a soft spot for animals," you say, turning to him and watching him stiffen at the nickname.

"Not quite what I was aiming for," he chuckles dryly. Quan Chi's grip on his armrest tightens.

"Can both of you stop? Please! You are acting ridiculous!" You state your annoyance about their behaviour, which is evident as you give them both a disappointed look as you stand up and make space between the three of you. You cross your arms and look at them both like an unhappy parent.

"I thought I'd made it abundantly clear that I love you both." There's that disappointed parental tone you learned from working with the general public. Your arms are crossed, and there's no mercy behind your glare as you stare at your partners.

Shinnok moves to stand up as if to keep the argument going in circles. "Sit," you say in a very agitated tone as you point at the loveseat and give him a sharp look.

"Wha-" He's confused by your response to him. You step closer towards him.

"Sit. Back. Down. Now," you say sternly, each word sharp and calculated. Your gentle and kind attitude is replaced by a disappointed and annoyed one. One they have never seen as your small form looms over them both as you rant about how their behaviour is unacceptable and will not be tolerated, how you love them both equally and that there's no chance another person could take you from them. You speak to them like an angry mother would as your gaze shifts between them sharply as you talk.

They feel the sharp sting of embarrassment and disappointment, a twist in their guts that burns as the harsh and almost venomous scolding leaves their lips. Your tone is severe and sharp, expressing extreme disappointment and almost fury mixed to create a perfect weapon against their emotions. You are scolding them. It would put Kronika to shame if she saw this.

They swallow as your voice keeps going strong and firm. You pause and catch a breath when you know your points are fully gotten across. You pull back slightly, giving them both space as you hold your head high, looking down at them with an expectant look and your arms crossed. They both look like kicked dogs. Neither have been spoken to like that except from Kronika or Cetrion.

"Now, I would like an apology from both of you, along with a promise something like this will not happen again." You stand up straight and stare down your lovers. You use the most disappointing tone you can muster, and they understand where it came from and can't quite bring themselves to do much besides what you said. You dominated the situation they both believed they had the upper hand in—the audacity to discipline them like they were children.

"Behave like a jealous child and be treated like one," you say as if you can read their minds. They know your words are correct but will never fully admit that to themselves. Not without a fight, anyway.

My bedroom will be locked at night until I get a response," you threaten. "Be. Good. Boys," you hiss at them before storming off. Both have no idea what hit them. They can only comprehend that you spoke down at them and struck the right parts to get your desired effect, even if it was uncomfortable for them. Your hands clench tightly as you turn to see the fear in their eyes from you snapping at them like that. You are making sure neither of them will be getting anything tonight. As promised, you locked your bedroom door, much to their horror. They thought you were bluffing about it. No apology, no spot in your bed for either of them.

A bit of regret lingers with Quan Chi and Shinnok after your battle. Although they may have a new respect for the power behind your wrath and the verbal lashings, you can dish out. If Shinnok and Quan Chi were truthful with themselves, they deserved the lecture, but it did not stop the throbbing jealousy. So the two lie in their bed in silence, each thinking about ways to get you back. The only thing they know you want is something their ego and pride will never let happen: an apology.

Three days, three long, arduous days, you did not give them the attention they craved—at least 36 hours of cold, cold, lonely silence on either of your parts. You are adamant, refusing to give in. In some ways, they appreciate it but despise the emptiness and their aching heart. You are acting cold, hurting them worse than anything you could have said. They missed having someone sleep beside them. You had no clue how hard it was for them not to have you by their side at night.

One would have assumed Shinnok and Quan Chi could have handled sleeping alone. The two are whining to themselves like small children missing their toy or comfort blanket. Three days without you by their side has proved more than enough torture to coerce an apology. You continue the silent treatment for now.

Quan Chi on day four of the silent treatment. He knocked on your door cautiously, hoping to hear you beckon him in. As a master of manipulation, his skills are significantly lessened on you. All he can offer is sincerity, even when his ego screams to think he's a fool. And yet here he is, admitting that he was a complete idiot to fall for his possessive tendencies towards you. He's on his knees begging and apologizing as best he could and saying he couldn't live without you and would rather die a thousand deaths than risk losing you. You open the door, seeing how miserable the sorcerer looks on his knees in front of your door. You gently lift him, pressing a tender kiss to his lips as a reassurance.

"Apology accepted, now get off your knees," you smile, letting him rest on your shoulder. He nods silently and wraps his arms tightly around your waist, lovingly rubbing his nose against your neck as he basks in your warmth again. Since he apologised, you'll let him have this as a bit of a win. You know the act is difficult for him and proves he loves you deeply. You slowly pull him into your room and shut your door, ready to shower him with the affection he's missed.

"Oh, you missed me that much?" You hummed in question, to which he quickly replied yes. You kiss him lovingly as his arms tighten around you, needing the reassurance of holding you tight. The two of you exchange sweet nothings in between kisses. Your fingers rake, scratching his bald scalp as his hand pushes and strokes every part of your skin his hand can reach.

"Thank you for apologizing," you whisper sincerely. You move him to sit at the edge of your bed. He follows your motions eagerly, happy you aren't rejecting him. He leans his head back slightly; he lets out a whine, which would be embarrassing to the sorcerer, but right now, he can't bring himself to care as his forehead rests against your shoulder. You gently stroke your finger down his spine to relax him.

He breathes shallow, ragged breaths as your fingers scratch along his exposed flesh and run up and down his back to relax him. You smile as the muscles tense in his arms and then relax. You gently scratch along the muscles and bones at his back, tracing over every edge and feeling the warmth of his back with your touch. Quan Chi whimpers with relief. You tenderly caress his cheek, kissing his jaw, letting your lips trail up and down it. A soft shudder goes down his spine. He bites his lip, but it isn't stopping a needy sound from escaping his throat. He purrs in contentment, rubs the side of his face into the crook of your neck and shoulder, and lets out a happy grunt. You peck him on the tip of his ear before cooing softly, "Just relax for me, love," he shivers and nods slowly. You curl up on your bed. Quan Chi quickly cuddles you and pulls your head to rest in the crook of his neck. You hold his hand and whisper soft praises as you go to sleep.

In week two, Shinnok still hasn't come to terms with the fact that his mind will break if he is forced to remain separated from you for a long time. He stares blankly at your door. He thinks back to how Quan Chi spoke about how easily you forgave him with his simple apology. How you then happily showered him in affection. A rush of envy coursed through the Elder God. He doesn't want to admit it, but he wants the love, too. So he knocks, and you can't help the little smirk as you walk over and open the door. Shinnok hesitates for a split second before asking,

"May we talk?" You hum slightly before you nod.

"Yes, speak your mind," you gesture but don't move from your doorframe.

"I apologize for my behaviour," he exclaims, only realizing what he'd done after the sentence had left his mouth.

"Thank you for the apology, Shinnok," you smile as your hand finds his cheek and guides him to you, planting a chaste kiss that he's been craving far more than he'd like to admit. As his hands rest on the sides of your ribs, a faint shuddering whimper of relief slips from his lips into your own, allowing you to seal the silent promise of forgiveness and love as he leans his body weight into the kiss, savouring your lips against his own. You pull back, letting your foreheads rest against one another. He groans at the action, so desperate to taste the tenderness again, only now allowing you to feel how much his body craved affection and intimacy. You tilt his head to face yours as your hands cup his cheeks.

"Come in," you pull away from him, allowing Shinnok to slink into your room, desperate not to let you move. Your fingers twirl in the dark silvery locks as his hands ghost up and down your sides as he seeks to feel more and savour more of the feeling of you.

"Thank you," Shinnok finally states before planting another loving peck on your lips.

"Thank you? What did I do?" You smile softly and laugh through your question. You stand up straight, pull him in by the back of his neck, and wrap his arms around you before giving him a loving hug.

"For being merciful," he replies honestly, almost whispering into your ear. He grips onto you, nuzzling his head into your shoulder. He's struggling with the feeling of raw affection that wells up in his chest and blooms like wildfire across his entire body, taking all sense of rationality and leaving his mind fuzzy and needy as the Elder God purred against you and sunk deeper into your touch and arms. You walk towards bed, ready to let him wrap himself around you like a snake and savour what he's missed.

"Think nothing of it," you brush your finger against his jaw. Your eyes watch with deep admiration at the once vengeful being slowly reduced to a purring cat wrapped in a silk blanket, the epitome of relaxation and comfort, as his arms coil around you possessively. As you two crawl into bed together, you are ready to snuggle up, but Shinnok's embrace is so tight you can't budge.

"I must admit something," he mumbles, causing you to tilt your head to hear better, "I slept miserably for the past two weeks, my love."

You kiss his knuckles, and a deep, calm sigh passes the god's lips. Shinnok leans his head against your neck, hiding his expression, though the love and tenderness he can't help but feel are transparent enough in his voice. "Please, just stay here."

You kiss his head, resting your forehead against him. "Where do you think I'm going?" He smiles.

"Sleep," he murmurs before pressing another gentle, featherlight kiss to your skin.

...

You sit in their lab watching Shinnok and Quan Chi. Shinnok is writing a new spell while Quan Chi uses his magic to carry different instruments. While they usually work separately, how they work together is undeniably attractive. Watching their skilled hands wave gracefully through the air, their fingers flexing delicately to adjust to their movements. You sigh dreamily as their lips move in rhythm, casting their spells, neither uttering a word. The raw focus and power make you feel hot under the collar. You've gotten good at hiding how they affect you, significantly after you distracted them long enough that some concoction they were making exploded.

You're not proud of how filthy your thoughts can be about them when they work like this. You haven't been intimate with either of them, yet your mind flickers to scenarios and fantasies you have about each other individually and together. You've had to take cold showers because of how warm you feel from just being around them. You want them both, but neither shows interest in sex...ever. Sure, they will flirt and rile you up, but they don't seem interested in going all the way, which frustrates you to no end! You're feeling more and more sexually frustrated by the day, from each gentle lingering touch, each kiss, everything! It's pure torture. You begin to wonder, could they not be attracted to you sexually? You know there are more ways to experience attraction. You were fine with them being asexual or demi. You'd respect that if they are, but they never talk about anything, and you are losing it!

You're okay with the idea you'll have to use your hands or toys if they aren't interested in sex, but they constantly change the subject about it. Neither of them seems to want to have this critical conversation. They have danced around the topic for the last few months. Quan Chi is either sarcastic about it, deflecting the question to Shinnok, or they both claim they are too busy for that right now. So, instead, you groan with frustration, clearly annoyed that the two are too occupied to give you attention. Shinnok flicks his gaze to your irritated self. He furrows his eyebrows for a second. Shinnok carefully asks.

"What is wrong, my heart?" It was more of a command for you to talk. Shinnok watches your body language as you sigh heavily, gravelly. Shinnok doesn't pry; instead, he waits for your response to see if he must make his other partner respond for him.

"Are you both asexual?" You blurt out, tired of the way they skirt around the subject. Shinnok is caught off guard as his nose and eyebrows pinch at your request. Quan Chi spins around to look at you with a weird look, raising his eyebrow high at your question. Your eyes flicker between the two, who were looking very confused about your question, and you feel a slight irritation welling up in your chest as your lips pull tight in annoyance and your eyebrows twitch downwards.

"I mean, neither of you likes to talk about sex. Usually, you skirt around the topic. I can understand if you are, but I'd like to know so I can...Deal with that on my end," you say as you try to insinuate what you need. It wasn't a lie. You can manage. Hell, you've worked just fine these last few months. Both of your lovers are silent, eyes wide, glancing at each other, still not quite saying anything, their faces slightly pink and ears burning from the direct question.

"No," Quan Chi finally spits out as his eyebrows arch in exasperation,

"I just never gave it a second thought," Shinnok stated, almost surprised by the idea,

"It doesn't cross our minds that often... We just," Quan Chi replied, his hand waving up and down slightly at the statement. You glance down at the table and sit a bit straighter.

"It's fine. I should have figured you two have very, very low sex drives," you cough. You know, in most relationships, sexual attraction is essential. Most partners who are even a bit into you will want that eventually. You shift in your seat. "Don't worry about it. You've put me at ease," you add, sighing softly. You quickly leave the room. Your skin feels warm and sticky again; you need another cold shower.

...

Even under the cold water, your skin burns and craves to be touched, even more so now that you know that they can, in theory, want sex... they are just indifferent to the whole thing. You squeeze your legs shut as your brain starts to think up scenarios again that cause your core to throb. Maybe you're just reading into things, and neither of them is interested in the sensual pleasures...which you can respect and understand if that is true. You shiver in pleasure and frustration, wondering what their hands would feel like against you... You want them. You crave them.

You push the intruding thoughts away for now and continue your shower. You can't take it anymore. You need something to ease your desire. Maybe just letting yourself pleasure yourself with thoughts and fantasies isn't that bad for now. Even with the cool water hitting your neck and back, your skin burns as you let yourself enjoy what you've desperately needed. You exhale slowly through gritted teeth, trying your best not to moan as you flick a finger against your sensitive, swollen clit. It has been too long since you have given yourself the satisfaction and release you've been denied so cruelly for months. All you can think about is how rough their hands would feel caressing and pleasuring you or the sensation of their tongue teasing you... you have such an insatiable appetite that the once-thought-of images only served to arouse you further. You lean your head against the shower tiles. The more your finger moves along your slit, the more you grow impatient.

"Fuck," you sigh, enjoying the moment for a while, your core growing hotter with each flick of the finger. Just imagining what their mouths might feel like against your sensitive folds is nearly too much for your oversensitive brain to think about. It feels too damn good, and it has been so long since you have had the chance to relax this way. You inhale deeply, trying not to pant at the image and fantasy of the sorcerers. It was futile. "Damn," You huff again, knowing it wouldn't be long before you completely break and release after so long. You tease and rub your inner walls, barely able to hold back your sounds. Your hand tightens at the tiled wall behind you, feeling your climax rising. You whimper loudly, letting a muffled moan pass through your lips. Your thoughts return to the two men, making you picture the sight of them pinning you to the shower wall and filling you.

A surge of bliss and pleasure ran through your body, leaving you lightheaded. As you gather yourself up, your chest begins to rise and fall. The haze of your orgasm leaves your mind hazy and blissful. You feel like you're seeing stars as your thighs quake and shiver. You chuckle slightly, almost chuckling to yourself, realizing your fantasies are quite the danger zone if they make you cum that fast. Still, you can't bring yourself to care. You've been needing that for quite a while. The cold water drenched your body again, cooling down your hot skin. You take a moment to catch your breath as you shower off, hoping that will ease that hungry desire inside you after your orgasm.

....

A week passes, and you go on like nothing is wrong. You'd visited Outworld and got yourself a little...gift. You have used it often, especially when you shower and every time you cum to the thought of one of your lovers. Jade and you had gone to the market, and you'd gotten a dildo to help your need. However, both Shinnok and Quan Chi have started to notice you're a bit tense. It was subtle, a small sign they were quick to identify. You're far more relaxed and seemingly satisfied. However, they did notice a slight limp that would appear occasionally. They were no fools. However, their minds always seemed to go to the worst outcomes first. There was no way that you would seek satisfaction and sex with someone else... would you? They worried you may have. After all, you're the one who asked if they even wanted to have sex. The idea didn't sit well with either, as they watched you from a distance for a week. They hoped that they wouldn't catch you meeting up with another person. They watch intently from a distance, trying their best not to raise suspicion that they have been tailing you like some common crook. It's not until they search your room while you and D'Vorah are out doing something that they find it: the dildo you had gotten yourself. Both of them feel slightly relieved that they're not seeking another person's embrace behind their backs. Neither one dares touch the phallic object you use, however. Shinnok is the one to say it out loud,

"I didn't peg them to use something like that." Shinnok rubs his jaw thoughtfully with his hand. Quan Chi sighs heavily.

"At least they don't seek pleasure from another and have opted for this instead of cheating on us." Shinnok hums before he hears your footsteps approaching your room. Both of their cheeks heat up with the knowledge of you having such a toy, not recognizing that you're using it for satisfaction. Just the mere knowledge is enough.

"What were you two doing in my room," you inquire as your head pokes past the doorframe. Both look caught. Neither had genuinely thought about what they would do if you returned early. You immediately spot the open drawer that held your 'toy.' Both their eyes follow where you are looking, and you watch their faces turn redder than an apple in a few seconds. Your head cocks to the side.

"Ahh...you both could have asked, you know," you blush, just a little embarrassed that they snooped in your drawers. "It's rude to snoop, you know," you tease. Both men look down, very shy from the subject. You gesture.

"Well, I did tell you I'd deal with it myself," you grin, feeling a light flush on your cheeks. You may feel a little ashamed for using such a thing instead of asking your lovers, but you also feel no reason to hide it. Both Shinnok and Quan Chi flush deeper as Shinnok fumbles with what to say,

"My love-" Shinnok starts, only for you to put your hand up.

"I knew neither of you desired sex. It's OK if neither of you is interested in it. It's not an important aspect of a relationship." You interject before either of them can attempt to justify themselves. Shinnok pinches his eyes shut, feeling somewhat upset he caused you to worry that he'd be offended. Quan Chi feels almost stung at the knowledge you felt that way, "I love you both regardless, you know, regardless of our conflicting sex drives," you sigh softly, "Please don't take offence. I just didn't want either of you to feel forced to perform for my benefit, I prefer enthusiastic consent from my partners," you lightly chuckle.

Quan Chi looked relieved and slightly taken aback at how composed you are with this situation. How calm you are, understanding why neither of them talked about sex was enough for him. The understanding you gave them made him feel less like a horrible partner. They were just bad at discussing personal things. Shinnok scoffs a tiny laugh,

"So then," Quan Chi's ears were on fire as his face felt too hot to look at either of you for longer than a few moments. Both of them clear their throats. Neither one had ever brought up a sexual aspect to a relationship. Still, both felt like they couldn't address this now, not after how wise you were and especially not after you mentioned enthusiastic consent. Shinnok then inquires about the bravery you often admire.

"Have you been enjoying your...thing, alone?" His voice is wavering ever-so-slightly. You observe them both.

"In the shower, but yeah, I have," You pause before mumbling quietly, "using it too long causes that limp I get," Quan Chi had to cough into his fist, "I don't expect either of you to have sex with me," you reiterate, both sorcerers stare at you for a moment. You shrug awkwardly, trying not to wilt under their heated gazes, "You didn't seem interested. So I didn't bother you with it." You wave your hand and smirk awkwardly, your tongue suddenly feeling dry as their intense gazes burn through you. Neither sorcerer said a word as your words finally registered in their heads. You're using something to satisfy yourself in the shower instead of pressuring them for sex. Neither of them knew how to react. Should they thank you and reassure you that it isn't a dealbreaker? What were they even supposed to say now? This isn't their area of expertise, after all. The room was dead silent, the air thick and uncomfortable between you. "Should...should we talk about this?" You question. You shift from foot to foot. Shinnok coughs lightly, clearly not knowing how to discuss such a taboo topic. He feels uneasy about discussing this new topic, for he does not like being seen as incapable. You're very supportive and have never looked at them any less because they're not 'normal' like most others are. Now you're questioning their willingness, and he hates the position it has put you in. You start talking to fill in the dead silence, rambling anxiously. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make either of you uncomfortable," Your back slumps a bit, looking and feeling ashamed. Shinnok shakes his head lightly as he opens his mouth, only for no sound. This was such an unusual topic that neither knew how to discuss it.

"No! No, (Y/N), I...-We," Quan Chi trailed off before his hand lifted to rest at his temple. You begin to mumble and apologise again. Your shoulders slump slightly.

"(Y/N), its...-fine," Shinnok grins. He doesn't want you to apologize for how you have behaved. You have never pressured either of them. Neither would admit that they hadn't entertained the thought that your questions were directed towards them. At that moment, neither of them felt pressured or even worried. They knew that if you asked them directly, you would still respect them for their choices. Neither would ever admit it was mostly just them trying to avoid having the conversation about sexual matters that made them shy away from the topic.

"Please, don't apologize to us," Quan Chi raises his gaze from his feet to lock eyes with you as you cock your head to the side.

"Neither of us can offer a direct answer, as you asked. I haven't given the subject any thought," Shinnok mumbled out. A wave of relief washed over you as your shoulders sagged, and the tension and dread dissipated.

"Okay," You breathe. "That's okay," you smile a little. "I know the idea of talking about it isn't the easiest... I'll give you both space about this, okay?" They both nod as you sit on an armchair in your room. The conversation dies down, and they leave the room.

....

It's been three months since then. You still used your toy when you felt your urges bubbling to the surface. Both men have had extraordinary feelings towards seeing and learning that their lover used such an item to please themself. Every time you would enter a shower, they both imagined your pretty, pleasured face. They both had heard your sounds of pleasure while in the shower. Both have always longed to see your face scrunch in pleasure at the euphoria you would experience. Now, every time you went to the shower, both sorcerers would imagine the sight that they couldn't get off their brains, not that they wanted to, either. It drove both of them mad with their longing to see the beautiful expression of pure ecstasy on your face. Shinnok finds his mind drifting back to the toy each time, wondering what would make you moan so beautifully when it's inside. Quan Chi's curiosity is piqued by a part of him wishing to see you getting off, even if he didn't participate. Their thoughts ran amok during the late hours when neither was asleep, where one would slip a hand into their shorts and think of seeing their lover being pleased by their hand. Both shame and arousal burned their skin red and raw when they finished with thoughts of you splayed and vulnerable while they pleased themself with the image. Neither mentioned it, but a pang of jealousy came whenever their minds returned to it, yet at the same time, a burning sense of longing made their insides melt. Neither talked, and neither could tell why. Quan Chi had a couple of wet dreams about it, while Shinnok merely conjured those images whenever he felt the urge for satisfaction.

A knock on his door distracted Shinnok from the fantasy he had going of you riding his face. You came by. A smile adorned your gorgeous lips as you came to him for his attention while Quan Chi worked on something dangerous and time-sensitive.

"Hello, my dear," Shinnok grinned, trying not to make it too obvious he had been pleasuring himself in a not-so-primal way for the last half hour. His breathing is heavy, and his face is sweaty and red. He's hiding something, and you can tell, but he gives no hint about the activity you're positive he had done or was doing before you stepped through the door.

"Are you alright, dear? You look haggard," you look and sound so concerned about the literal god of death and destruction. "Are you coming down with something?" You ask as you place a hand on his forehead, checking for a fever. Shinnok almost melted with how nurturing you can be.

"I'm fine, darling. Don't concern yourself with me," he murmured. You weren't convinced. His posture and face made you concerned.

"Nuh-uh," you hold up a finger in the negative, "None of this," you point to his entire form, "makes me confident, dear. What's going on?" You question, locking eyes.

"I appreciate your concern. Yet there is no need for it," he continued to murmur, even though your facial expression was increasingly sceptical. You have an inkling of why he looks like this, as his skin feels like it usually does.

"Am I disturbing something?" You ask as a light smirk plays across your lips. You have a feeling that is the case. Shinnok's mind nearly shut down at the accusation. You raise a brow, challenging his response. Shinnok stares, a slight flush and a guilty look on his face. Biting your lip, you take a chance to ask the question. Yet you are intrigued, not disgusted, "Because it looks like I am, no?" You gently nudge, trying to encourage him to speak to you. You gave a soft look, which was comforting. Shinnok's chest tightens slightly.

"Are you disturbed?" Shinnok inquires. As his voice wavers slightly, his face betrays his nervousness.

"No, not at all. I think you should let me in if anything," you purr as you move closer to him. Shinnok doesn't say much and gestures his hand.

"If you're sure." You grin wickedly and kiss him deeply, allowing yourself to moan into his mouth, getting a light groan from him.

"Did I catch you pleasuring yourself to the thought of me, hmm?" You purr lightly, taking note of the erection hidden by his pants, his hands trailing your hips slowly, letting out a small and subtle whine. "My, that sounds like quite a pleasant image," you nip his ear. Shinnok's composure shatters at the sensation. You place your hands on his sides, letting his fingers trail your shirt.

"Maybe," Shinnok sniffs with an unimpressed sneer on his face. Still, you can hear his arousal as his voice cracks slightly. "Yet you're teasing me so...it seems," you kiss his neck, leaving marks as you bite the sensitive parts of his throat and neck. You're giving him affection. It feels glorious. You feel the vibrations on his neck as he groans, whimpering as your teeth tease the skin, marking him for everyone to see that he's yours. When you reach his ear, your tone low and husky,

"Can you blame me for wanting to taste you, my love?" Shinnok shivers in delight at the promise, and his eyes narrow with a feral desire as his hand pushes you off him by your shoulders to guide you onto his bed, kissing him in a frenzy of need. His hips grind into yours in a needy fashion. It makes a familiar pressure build at the base of your pelvic muscles as he starts to nip and kiss at your neck in a very primal manner, hands pawing and grabbing, dragging and pulling your body to his, grunts of approval filling the otherwise silent bedroom, along with the rustling of clothes. As the two of you exchange bites and moans, your lips are practically bruised from the force and roughness of his.

As soon as his belt was undone, his pants and underwear were tossed aside with no regard or care as to where they landed. He watches as your hand snakes down his body and wraps your digits around his length, pumping slowly. He can't stop the guttural moan that erupts from his chest at the sweet sensation of your digits stroking him, bringing him so much joy he might not survive this encounter. Shinnok's sounds are encouraging, and he's so lost in the euphoria that he doesn't recall his desires. Your ministrations stop when you feel yourself get pulled into a deep, sensual kiss, a hand clutching the back of your skull, urging you to continue pumping him as his tongue enters your mouth, filling your senses with everything he is. The kiss feels filthy in all the right ways as the passion burns into your body with ferocity. When it's over, you can't help but bite his throat hard enough to mark his neck, leaving evidence for all to see, groaning as you suck, trying to soothe. Shinnok cackles in pleasure at the attention before he looks at you expectantly.

You sit up and fight to get yourself in a similar state of undress. He watches hungrily at the view of you becoming exposed as you slide out of your garments, leaving him with a strong sense of reverence. His eyes drink up your form like a dehydrated man drinking cool, refreshing water on a hot day. He loves every part of your figure, even the curves you are sometimes unsure about. Shinnok thinks you're perfect, regardless of your opinions. When the two of you are both nude, he allows himself a moment to devour your appearance.

"Let me take you, my precious," Shinnok rumbled uncontrollably. It sends a shiver down your spine into your core.

"Yes," you murmur. Then, you gasp and moan loudly as Shinnok drags his tongue across the apex of your thighs. You blush intensely at the feeling of the sudden tongue. He watches you shiver at his ministrations as he grips your inner thighs to prevent your escape as he tastes and takes. You moan and whimper softly, and you grab his shoulder, urging him not to stop as your arousal glistened, practically dripping for him. You weren't prepared when his finger probed your entrance, earning another startled cry of his name. You spread your legs open, wanting to make everything easier for him. Another moan from you, and he slips another digit inside. He grinned as your noises spurred him to quicken his motions as you clutched and pulled his hair roughly. He savours your sounds. "Fuck-" the sensation is pure bliss. You look at him in absolute awe and passion. He groans against you, feeling you pull his hair. Shinnok keeps moving at an achingly slow pace as he adds a third digit inside you. With your eyes shut and mouth agape, you're caught up in the throes of passion. He admires you while you ride his tongue and fingers with gusto. He's drinking in the sight and feeling of you grinding against his face and fingers. How could he have not thought about this before? He can't believe it has taken so long to admit he wanted to have you ride his face, taste you, make you scream and moan his name, be at his mercy, feel you yank and pull his hair to keep yourself grounded, savouring the sting it causes him. He wanted this more than he ever admitted. After the teasing, the talking, the mental images in the back of his mind, he's savouring the sweetness of your slick flowing into his awaiting mouth. Feeling how you grip him tightly when you orgasm, how you scream his name as you release, his digits sopping from your juices, Shinnok drank every last drop, pulling his head back only slightly to savour your taste.

Your legs quivered slightly, unable to support your weight as you fell back to the sheets. Your breathing is heavy, and your eyes are screwed shut as you savour your orgasm. When you opened your eyes, you were surprised to see him staring at you, the area around his mouth wet, glistening in the low lighting. A tender gaze locked onto yours, tingling your skin with renewed excitement. Shinnok hummed. He sounded happy, proud even, of his actions and his prowess. Your nerves feel sensitive and charged with electricity as he looms over you.

"Fuck," is all you can mutter. Shinnok was delighted by your reaction, placing little kisses and marks on your collarbone, shoulders and neck before returning to his mouth with you. You could taste yourself as his tongue mapped yours. Shinnok wrapped a hand around your hips. His touch is soft yet firm.

"I do believe we're not done here," Shinnok gave a lust-filled, leering glance down. As his cock nudged your wet, ready folds, he growled with lust and leaned towards your ear, whispering huskily, "Shall I show you what you've done to me?" You nodded and gasped in surprise and pleasure as his length plunged into you, slick enough to ease the entry and not cause discomfort. It felt fantastic. Every drag of his member brought you so much enjoyment, and it felt divine to your senses. He filled you so perfectly. The pace is languid but deep as his hands wander and worship your form.

Shinnok watched how you crumble from the building sensations he provided with a smirk. His hips were fast, hard, deep, and very satisfying, as was the delicious pace. It didn't hurt or harm, either, which only pleased you. Your arms wrap around him as your fingers scratch his back, trying to find a hold, leaving behind angry red marks that earn you sounds of approval and lust from the delicious pain it brings him. Every sound you make and touch you provide has him losing his usual composure, reducing him to a snarling, drooling mess, deep down enjoying his loss of control. As Shinnok thrusts, he murmurs encouragement to you in such a sinful voice and is so sexy. "Oh, that feels good, yes, darling-yes, harder, more-" are common phrases and gasps to leave his lips. The way your pussy wraps around him in such a sinful way, it's like a vice and so wet and warm as he continues thrusting inside, losing himself in the sounds of squelching moist flesh slapping. It is so delicious, so passionate. Shinnok gives everything to bring you ecstasy as he sucks, bites and bruises you to his satisfaction, seeing the marks left. Feeling your nails dig and trail over his shoulder blades and spine was something so exhilarating to feel, driving him wild, making his rhythm jerk and stutter as a growl rippled from his lips. He wished he would not get this so lost in pleasure so easily. He had never experienced anything like this with any lover. The pleasure felt sinfully good. This is carnal. Fucking like this made your bond stronger. He'll never give it up. He didn't care if Quan Chi could hear the creaking and moans of the bed or the sound of skin slapping. It felt wonderful. Your lover has no qualms about his loud and guttural groans of ecstasy and growls, the primal noises only adding to your arousal. Every mark he leaves has you begging for more, wanting his claim to be made known and apparent. The smell of sweat and sex-saturated the room, thick and heavy like fog.

As you draw closer to your orgasm, he sees you shiver and gasp, moaning his name like a hymn from a song he loved. Your climax is his end as his fingers clutch your hips as he is driven to finish inside you. When his essence floods into you, he growls, but not in anger, in bliss and relief from his intense orgasm. The orgasm has you see stars and colours dance behind closed lids. You can feel the sticky and heavy substance covering your inner walls with warmth as it's splashed. He rides it out with slow, hard thrusts that wring everything out. Shinnok watches with a deliriously fucked-out, adoring expression as your chest rises and falls, signifying the way his presence stilled the rise and fall of your body as your heart pounded in its cage. Shinnok slows his rhythm down before collapsing by your side. Your chests are heaving, a thin layer of sweat coating your bodies from exertion. As he takes a moment to rest his tired limbs, a smirk appears on Shinnok's face, and a light chuckle erupts. You raise a brow curiously as you catch the sound.

"It seems I missed one hell of a sight," his gaze lands on his doorway. Sure enough, a person is leaning there, having witnessed the event unfold before their eyes, aroused. Quan Chi, with his bulging pants and reddened face, is the person watching. It didn't shock you in the slightest. You knew how they looked and felt. Shinnok laughs softly at his partner and lets out a sharp bark of a laugh as the other man shamelessly ogles your naked form.

"Quan Chi, give me a couple of hours, and we'll revisit this; I'm way too overstimulated," you breathe, trying to catch your breath. It's a breathless promise of what he will happily wait for. Quan Chi is beaming in delight, and there's no doubt the anticipation would build further. He licks his lips at the idea of having his way with you, yet he'll wait because you're so delicious.

"Very well. That's only fair, I suppose," Quan Chi sighs and walks off. You giggle, watching him walk off with his pants tighter than they should be. Once he's left, your body falls back into the sheets, and your limbs and body feel heavy and satiated. Shinnok continues watching you momentarily, leaning close to kiss you gently and lovingly. Your body tingled happily from the display of intimacy.

"Thank you, my heart," he whispered. There were no more words that needed to be said. He settles down and hugs your body close, allowing sleep to find you both as your eyes flutter and eyelashes softly brush your cheeks.

"Anytime." It's a whisper as his nose brushes yours. For the first time, you truly understand the concept of afterglow, and your body is alight from the happiness and adoration.

..,

It took you longer than expected to recover from your passionate activities with Shinnok. You'd just lay in bed feeling how sore he left you. You stayed in his bed all day as he did his best to give you some aftercare. Though, you don't mind. You dozed off at times, yet mostly, you cuddled him, feeding off the warmth of his presence and the physical touch. The contact also helped soothe your sensitive body from the intense encounter. When you'd woken up a few hours later, your eyes roamed over the slight bite and bite marks, bruises and cuts he left and shivered in joy at the memory of what had happened the evening before. He had used some spell to fix you up and remove any soreness while you slept. If not, you'd be feeling aches everywhere, and it would take a lot longer to recover, despite how pleasant the memories of how the lovemaking started, ended, or any of the acts occurred.

You remember that you made a promise to Quan Chi, and once your energy recovered and you dared to move, you pulled on some clothes and went looking for him. The man was in his chamber when you found him. He immediately began eyeing you as you stepped towards him with his hungry, desire-filled stare.

"Sorry I took so long; I was more worn out than I expected to be," you told him, approaching him slowly, intending to give him his due for being such a good, patient man. He greeted you with a deep, passionate, tongue-heavy kiss, practically devouring your mouth with need.

"Now, no need for that," he purred, tugging at your lower lip. A grin spreads on your face at his tone and expression. Quan Chi kisses you, and the action is both tender and fierce. It doesn't take much to pull him into bed as you both exchange needy and feverish touches and kisses and nips in an exchange, turning this room into another source of pleasure.

While in the throes of your lust-induced haze, it seems that Shinnok appeared and settled into the armchair in the corner. If Quan Chi got to watch you and him, he gets to protect you and Quan Chi. Quan Chi entirely ignored Shinnok, wanting nothing but you. He couldn't find a reason to care in his pleasure-filled state, his hands pawing and caressing the bare skin of your shoulders and sides. The noises from the man were only spurring you onwards, earning you sounds of gratitude. Quan Chi gripped you tightly, encouraging and begging in desperation to get all he'd desired since witnessing the debauchery between you and Shinnok. Your focus was split as he was beneath you, moaning, growling, and groaning in utter bliss as you rode him. The spectacle before Shinnok was indeed impressive, and he had to stop his hand from travelling between his thighs and making things interesting. With the sound of heavy breathing and bodies grinding, his dick grows stiff from his appreciation of the view he has of the two of you.

Shinnok can't get enough. Even though he had already fucked you into the mattress until you couldn't walk, the way you moaned and writhed against Quan Chi's chest as he groped and kissed your skin, the way your body shook and moved as you rode Quan Chi's legs spread for him as a new person to look upon your glorious nude form with hunger and delight, it fills Shinnok with such glee and passion. This was an intimate, private showing he had been waiting to witness.

Every bite, nibble, groan, every touch that sends shivers through your skin is intensely erotic to watch. Shinnok growls as Quan Chi hisses from your teeth on his Adam's apple and how his length is fully buried in your depths, jerking with every grind and rock. Quan Chi rolls his eyes when your tongue laps his neck in apology and delight. Watching Quan Chi use a hand to spread your ass so he can push himself in more profoundly, with a pleased smile as he admires your skin with an open-mouthed moan, and Shinnok purred at the delightful scene in his mind.

Shinnok allowed himself some satisfaction, even without the use of your body, in the fact that he's finally experienced you intimately and gets to watch. His friends' ecstasy is in no way undermined, and neither is the mutual enjoyment. Their desires were equal, and there was no shame or regret. Shinnok takes his pleasure as he strokes his shaft in time with the motions, it's a stunningly attractive sight, and his mind will burn and engrave the image of you fucking one another. You glance at him, noticing the attention from your eyes, and with a grin, you acknowledge him enjoying this moment as much as you and Quan Chi.

"My heart," the tone is breathless and respectful, "we can talk later. I need you, fuck- Quan Chi-" the voice is a ragged, growling hiss, full of desire. Quan Chi doesn't need to speak, and you know that look so well as you moan when his fingers glide over your stomach as you move in rhythm with his thrusts. Quan Chi keeps biting his lip, huffing and muttering under his breath. He grins before taking you by surprise as he slaps your rear roughly, causing you to moan loudly.

Your thoughts are going wild, as are Quan Chi's, from the sinful high you're experiencing. Quan Chi has become less patient and needier. There's so much fire to his motions, a wanton quality. As you grab his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh as your knees support and carry your weight. It seems the stress and desire got the best of him, with the way his pace became savage and lust-filled. It makes for an exceptionally enthralling sight as he eagerly and ravenously devoured you to have you keen with desperate lust as you sought mutual satisfaction, needing his body for release as much as he did yours. As you bounced harder and faster against his body, his chest, his strong arms pulled you even closer, his heartbeat sounding faster than the moments that had gone before. Your clenching around him makes him moan your name, and, oh, that brings you such joy as Quan Chi bites your collarbone and leaves a new bruise, a reminder that Shinnok had made the previous. With such force, you nearly came as you shuddered around him. A quiet, erotic chuckle passed your lips, seeing the glint in the sorcerer's eyes.

When your pleasure mounts to an indescribable level, your thoughts are nought but lust, bliss, satisfaction, and a wave of white-hot ecstasy. Shinnok himself comes along with you both. Quan Chi is still chasing his high as you tremble from the aftermath. There's something so appealing and satisfying about Quan Chi reaching his orgasm and Shinnok not far behind you. Knowing they derived pleasure from your activities feels exhilarating, a validation you did not think you'd want until you had it. Both men's loud noises sound like heaven as the tension in Quan Chi's form melts away, and he relaxes, softening within you. The world disappears until it's just the three of you. Mutual affection and passion have always given you the confidence to show these affections and desires.

The living yet passionate kiss Quan Chi gives you is full of his tongue as if the words will not come out unless shoved into yours in a silent way of expressing his devotion and admiration for you. His hands hold either side of your face as he kisses you like this. Despite the need to breathe, the moment is beautiful. It's breathtaking and memorable. Every motion and move made by each of you was so fulfilling, no matter if it was sexual or romantic.

Shinnok almost loses control upon witnessing the afterglow and tenderness from the aftermath. What a sight. The sorcerer with the strength and skills to do anything he pleases with you was so tender. With so much care, it's almost romantic, but it is also so sweet as you rest your forehead against the sorcerers'. And Shinnok cannot believe it, but it's adorable how content you two look.

He does not care that Shinnok sits not far away, watching with a very intense and pleased gaze as the afterglow between the two of you settles. You slowly move to entirely free Quan Chi from your depths as your thighs shiver slightly. But, he can see how wet the space between your thighs is from your fluids and the result of Quan Chi. He'd given it everything. He is breathing heavily as he settles himself next to you on the bed, pulling you down to snuggle and hold him. You beckon Shinnok to join you both in bed, curling against your back to enjoy your warmth. Your legs are jelly. You'll stay snuggled for hours. No words are needed. No talking is necessary.

This was bliss. Shinnok murmures sweet-nothings into your ear, leaving soft kisses along your bare neck and shoulder. Tender hand movements rub your belly, and his body presses closer to yours. As well as Quan Chi rests his hand on your cheek, the tender gesture lulls you, but you would do anything for them, and Shinnok and Quan Chi are proud and smug when they have you all to themselves in their arms and nestled into the bed. Their heartbeats sync with your own. A promise was made without a word spoken aloud.

Both men will want you in their arms or their beds and will show off how proud and pleased they are for it. There would be no cause for embarrassment or shyness, no regrets or anger. Any objections would never make it known. The thought of it is appealing and a delight to your ears as you bask in the contentment, a warm feeling in your chest that bubbles to your lips as a happy smile despite your eyes remaining closed.

These men knew how to make your knees buckle, whether with magic, tenderness, or sinful promises of debauchery and ecstasy. Whatever was brought into play, there were no complaints to be found. That fact alone meant they both made you extremely happy, which filled them with delight.

"Rest for now," is the whispered response of Quan Chi, smiling at the peace you found and a secret feeling that wants this, them, to remain.

You relish the feeling of a gentle kiss to the space between your neck and shoulders as your eyes close again, too satiated and warm to the point of sleep falling upon you quickly. Sleep claims all three of you. It's bliss. Shinnok wouldn't have it any other way than you in his arms, knowing that the man beside him isn't even going to bicker or disagree, their grudges and animosity set aside. They'd argue and throw spells at another day when there isn't the desire to fall asleep next to you and wake up to a vision they will come to adore. It was too rare that you could get such peaceful moments together. There is time, and their presence is soothing, a softness and acceptance only allowed around one another. Finding comfort in their presence in times of such calm and tenderness is a habit.

:readmore:

#quan chi #shinnok #raiden #shinnok x reader #quan chi x reader #mk x reader #mk x you #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x

[salamandergoo]

Flames & Asphodel & Elysium & Love

Written for the @strangerthingswritersguild April Fools Day exchange! This was written for @blaqcats-fics using the prompt “Hades/Persephone Retelling with Hades!Eddie and Persephone!Steve, but has like badass bringer of death vibes for Steve.” I hope I brought the badass vibes for Steve lol

Link to ao3

Steve reached out a hand towards a rotting tree and brushed his fingers over the mushrooms growing out of the decaying bark.  The tree was long dead, it was a home for insects and fungus.  But he knew it had been a home for far longer, the remnants of a birds’ nest in the branches above his head, a hollow containing left behind acorns in the trunk.  Even from a sapling it had provided leaves for other creatures.  There was a certain nobility to the cycle of life and death.  The tree would fall soon, it would decay into the earth and provide nutrients to the plants that would grow from the soil under his feet.  It was… “beautiful,” he whispered.

“A dying tree?”

Steve jumped, turning to face the voice.  There was a crack in the ground and a figure sitting on the edge of it, watching with intense eyes.  “It’s not dying.  It’s already dead.”

“…right.  I hardly think it’s the most beautiful thing in this clearing.”  He smirked and…

Oh, he was flirting.  And oh, Steve kind of liked it.  “Look closer.”  He held out a hand to the stranger and lifted him to stand.  “Look at the moss.  The mushrooms.  The grubs and beetles.  When this falls, it will protect salamanders and snakes.  It died, yes, but it has yet to fulfill the entirety of its purpose.  What could be more beautiful than that?”

The stranger started a moment longer before his expression turned to a wide grin.  “You are Persephone.  Quite passionate about death, I see.”

Steve’s nose scrunched.  “Yes, but please.  Call me Steve.”  He sighed and looked back at the mossy patch right at eye level for a moment.  “Of course I am passionate about death.  Life relies on it.  It’s everything.”  He turned away fully and sighed.  “You are…?”

“Hades.  But I have a feeling we’ll get a little more cozy, so you can call me Eddie instead.”  He rose to his feet and his curls settled on his shoulders after he shook them out.  Steve wanted to reach out and touch, arrange his hair artfully to frame his face.  He wondered if it was softer than it looked or if it was rigid and unkempt.

“Oh, you assume we’ll see more of each other?”

“A god can only hope.”  Eddie gave a sweeping bow and reached out to take Steve’s hand.  He looked up through his eyelashes and brushed his lips to Steve’s knuckles.  Steve’s heart jumped like he’d been struck by one of Zeus’ lightning bolts.

“I see.”  He didn’t want to seem too charmed, not yet.  “I think you only like me for my fascination with decay,” he teased.  “I am hardly interesting beyond that, especially to a god of such status.”

“And what is it that makes you think I could possibly be uninterested in a beauty like yourself?”

“You are the ruler of the Underworld, an entire realm.  Compared to that, am I not… inconsequential?”

“Far from inconsequential my darling,” he purred.  “Without death, my realm is inconsequential.  Without spring, the fields would not be sown.  You are far too important to mortals to even consider yourself inconsequential.  You might be everything.”

“Everything?”  Steve laughed and covered his mouth to attempt to hide his blush.  “You are too much.  Too kind, I would think.”

“Too kind?  Too kind, he says.”  Eddie chuckled, low and warm and it made Steve’s belly feel like a torch in a temple.  “I have never been accused of being too kind, neither by mortal or god.  I should think you are the kind one.”  He looked around the small clearing, grimacing at the dead deer laying just beyond the tree line.  “Is there beauty in that too?”

“Of course.  Life is cyclical.  While the deer’s life is over, it will feed creatures of the woods and sky.  It is a home for flies and a feast for vultures.  And they too, will meet their end eventually.  But we get to observe life over and over again.”  Steve’s eyes sparkled as he gazed at the deer and then up at the tree again.  “Life is a beautiful thing.”

“I suppose it is.”  Eddie was looking right at Steve.  “Say, have you ever been to the Underworld?  I think I would like to show you what comes after for the mortals.”

“You think?”  Steve held out his hand for Eddie to take.  “I suppose a look wouldn’t hurt.”  He wasn’t smiling.  At least, he was trying not to smile.  He allowed Eddie to lead him towards the large break in the earth and peered down warily.  He couldn’t see much, just the distant flickering of flame.  “Are you sure this is safe?”

“Trust me, gorgeous.”  Eddie took Steve’s other hand, back to the break.  “Just look in my eyes and you’ll be okay.”  He took a breath and then yanked Steve forward, pressing their bodies together.  Steve stared into his eyes and could hear the way the earth sealed itself above them, could feel hot air rising up as they fell, faster and faster until they stopped.

His feet touched rocky ground and he could hear something panting behind him.  Something wet touched the back of his neck and he yelped as he let go of Eddie’s hands and turned around.  A great beast stood before him, three pairs of eyes staring and three noses sniffing the air.  “Hello there.”  He held out a hand and touched the wet nose of the middle head.  It sniffed more intensely for a moment before bowing submissively. “Oh, hello.”  Steve couldn’t hold back his giggle as he pet soft our, scratching up towards the large pointed ears.  “Beautiful…”

“That’s Ozzy.”  Eddie grinned and scratched one of the ears.  “And these are Judas,” he pointed to the head on the left.  “And Maiden.”

“Maiden?”

“Yup.”  Eddie opened his arms and grinned as Maiden leaned in and sniffed him.  The heads were each as large as Eddie’s torso, but the beast was gentle with him, even with three mouths of sharp teeth and razor-like claws.

“Ozzy,” Steve murmured, grinning when the wet nose pressed against his cheek.  “And what does this baby… these babies do?”

“Cerberus is a guardian.  Souls try to escape and wannabe heroes try to come and ‘rescue’ them.  Cerberus helps keep order.  Three heads are better than one, isn’t that right baby?” he cooed to the dog.  His massive tail wagged, thudding against the stony ground.

“This is the great Cerberus?  I thought he would be… scarier.”

“To mortals, he is terrifying.  But he is a sweet boy at his core.  He just has to do his job.”  Eddie stepped back and wiped drool off his robes.  “There is still much to see.”

“I hope everything else is half as exciting as Cerberus.”  Steve waved to the beast with a soft laugh.  “He is very sweet.”

“The sweetest.”  Eddie took Steve’s hand again to lead the way.  He was sure footed and almost seemed to glide through his realm, it was like it existed just for him.

Steve supposed it sort of did.  Zeus had control of the skies and Poseidon ruled the seas.  And Eddie had the Underworld with its rocky ceiling seeming as far away as the sky felt from earth.  He’d expected Hellfire and dank air and the screams of the damned, but it was sort of like a well lit cave.

Until they came to a river of fire.  “Huh.”  He crouched down and reached out to touch the flames.  Were he mortal, he’d be burned to the bone in hardly a second, but it was just a tickle to his godly skin.  “Wow… nothing lives in there?”

“It leads the way to the deepest pits of the Underworld.  For the worst of the mortals, they must traverse through the Phlegethon to reach their eternal punishment.  Of course, I don’t dole out the punishments, I simply oversee the order of things.”

“No,” Steve agreed.  “You are no master of death.”  He rose to his feet and considered Eddie a moment.  “Death is not your domain.”  He grinned.  “It is mine.”

“Harmony.”  Eddie offered his hand again and Steve, again, accepted.  He liked holding Eddie’s hand.  Liked being guided like this.  “Without you, my domain does not exist, without my domain, there is no place for souls to continue to.  We balance each other, Stevie.”

“I suppose we do.”  He walked along the edge of the river, the heat of the flames dying down as they continued further away.  Clear water ran near his feet as they entered beautiful fields, full of grass and flowers.  Souls milled about, but Steve was more interested in the flowers.  “Asphodel?”

“Yeah.  This is where most souls come.  Those who were not cruel but not exceedingly exceptional.  There is peace here.”  He began to gather stalks of the flowers and weave them with deft fingers as Steve watched.  “The mortals will lay these at the resting place of their loved ones on earth.  I think there’s a beauty in it, don’t you?”  His tongue poked out as he tied the flowers into a sort of crown.

Steve smiled and reached out, cupping his hands against the flowers.  They grew brighter at his touch, bloomed fully and seemed to stand out among the other white flowers.  “Yeah.  There truly is.”

Eddie reached out to gently lay the crown on Steve’s head.  “Come, I’ll show you where the exceptional go.  The ones who did the most for the gods and their fellow man.  Heroes of legend and the chosen of the mortals.”

Steve’s face felt warm as a late spring’s day as he followed Eddie.  He liked the Asphodel crown more than anything he’d ever worn, he thought.  It had been crafted by Eddie’s hands, made of something from his realm.  He found himself appreciating the realm a little more with each step that he took.  He knew death.  He knew it well, like a friend.  But he’d never seen what came next, had only heard stories.

And he could see the seed of truth in many of those stories, but they failed to mention the good.  The way Eddie’s smile lit up his eyes, the way he showed so much care for all that he was surrounded by.  Steve even felt cared for by the lilt in his voice, the way his eyes crinkled when he grinned, the curve of his lips when he smiled.  He seemed so genuine.

“Are you lonely?”  The question slipped out before Steve could think about asking.

“Lonely?  Nah.”  Eddie looked over his shoulder.  “I’m not alone down here.  You haven’t even met the furies yet.  Red is a real spitfire, I think you’ll like her.  And one of Iris’ children is totally infatuated by her, he brings messages all the time, it’s-“

“You are not alone, I see that.”  Steve reached out this time and took Eddie’s hand.  “But that does not mean you aren’t lonely.  I never see you on Olympus.  I rarely hear of gods traversing down here.”

Eddie went quiet as they stepped into a golden field filled with a rainbow of flowers.  Steve still preferred the asphodel.  “I… have never been asked that.”

“No?”

“No.  I guess… I’ve never considered it.”

The air was warm like they were under the sun, but Steve could tell the difference.  A mortal likely wouldn’t, but he knew the way the sun felt on his skin.  Eddie seemed deep in thought and Steve politely looked away, watched as the souls of mortals and living demigods ran through the fields, all seeming so happy.  It was beautiful, but he’d rather follow Eddie than stay there.

“I think I might be,” Eddie confessed, voice almost too quiet to hear.  “I rule  the Underworld, but have few equals here.  Few who would choose to be here.”

“And if… I would choose to be here?”  Steve stepped closer until he was face to face with Eddie, almost close enough to feel his breath.

“Why would you?”

“It’s beautiful here.  I’ve never seen anything like it, I want to see more, to experience more.  Tell me, Eddie, where is your home here?”

Eddie’s pale skin looked warm as he looked away, even with the golden light shining down, the blush was clear to Steve.  He liked the way it looked on Eddie, the way he tugged at his hair to try and hide it.  “I suppose I should show you.”

He turned away from the fields and Steve took his hand as they walked side by side.  The palace was in what Steve assumed was the center of everything.  It wasn’t lifeless and empty, it was warm and cluttered and so… beautiful.  It felt like Eddie.

“I like it.”  He looked around with a smile.  It felt like home in some way deep inside of him.  In a way his mother’s home in Olympus had never felt.

“You- you do?  I mean.  You do.  Of course you do.”  He grinned.  “Stevie, listen-“

A knock at the door took their attention.  It swung open to reveal Lucas, son of Iris and messenger of the gods.  “Oh.  Hey, that was… easier than I thought.”  He gave an awkward wave.

“Max isn’t here, dude.  She’s busy.”

“I’m not here for Max.  I have been sent by Zeus.”

“Zeus?  The fuck does he want?”  Eddie’s face scrunched up.  Steve wanted to bite him.

“Steve is being summoned.  His mother is looking for him.  It’s been a whole thing, we should get going.  Steve?”

Steve hesitated, looking at Eddie.  “If mother is summoning me, I can’t… I have to go.”

“Will you come back?”  Eddie’s voice was soft.

“I want to.  I do, I want to stay here with you, but I can’t ignore a summons.  I don’t know what mother would do, what Zeus would do.  I can’t do that to Lucas, he’s-“

“A good kid, I know.”  Eddie sighed.  “Just wait here.  I’ll be right back.”  He turned and hurried deeper into the palace.

“…so, Max?”

Lucas looked away, tugging at his robes.  “I’ve only met her a few times.  In passing.  I’m not- it’s not a thing.”  He cleared his throat.  “…Eddie?”

“Might be a thing.  Not sure yet.”

“Huh.  That’s cool, man.”  He nodded.  Another few moments passed in awkward silence.  “Is he coming back…?  Should we… leave?”

“No, no, he said he’d be back.”

“Cool.  Cool.”  He rocked on his feet.

Steve breathed a sigh of relief when Eddie came hurrying back.  “Sorry, sorry, couldn’t find this, had to look.”  He held up a pomegranate, sliced in half.

“Oh.”  Steve’s eyes went wide.  He knew that eating food in the Underworld bound you there.  Everyone knew that, mortals and gods alike.

“You don’t have to, but… this would make certain that you would return to me.”

Steve held out his hands and accepted the pomegranate, digging his fingers into the fruit to remove several seeds.  “I will return to you.”  He leaned in and pressed a delicate kiss to Eddie’s lips and shoved the pomegranate back into his hands.  “I will come back.”

He lifted his hand to his mouth and bit down on several seeds, fingertips sticky with red juice.  He could feel them in his gut upon swallowing.  “I will see you soon,” Eddie murmured as Steve walked away with Lucas.

On the way back to the peak of Olympus, Steve could taste Eddie and pomegranate on his tongue.

#stranger things #steddie #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Persephone and Hades

[midnightblues444]

Really real |

Zeus! Gojo x f!mortal reader

Summary: you were never completely faithful to the god of lightening , he can fix that

Content warnings: power dynamic (I think), no smut sorry , a lot of inaccuracies, themes of religion and atheism, teasing

Zeus; the chief deity, god of the sky, ruler of Olympus; the strongest. Your family being devoted to worshipping and honoring him, your roots trace back to the highly respected priests and priestess's of Zeus's temple. You tried to be like them, but had trouble understanding why they do what they do.

Why they devot themselves to a god that has never shown himself. You try understand and mimic everything they tell you, your devotaton being a reflection of other devotees faith, never your own.

Somedays you'd wonder through the temple aimlessly, admiring the overgrown vines that decorated the sides of the building, and how the colourful gardens blossoming made the space pretty.

You preferred being on this side of the temple, finding ways to maneuver your duties to be centered on the outside, cleaning the outdoor statues and tending to the gardens was your solace.

Plus the lushness of the temple would attract all sorts of creatures that you'd end up playing with, instead of fulfilling your duties.

On times like today, your mother caught you playing with a deer instead of praying. She scolded you, telling you to stay behind and make up for it.

"I expect to hear what you prayed for to the mighty Zeus, once you return" she says as they all left.

The afternoon sun shines through the enormous pillars, allowing an expanse of light to flood the room. You didn't mind the isolation, going right back to the garden, happy to find the deer still there.

"You'll stay here with me huh?" You say petting its head, as you begin to walk the animal follows. You sigh, "I know I should be praying but I cant bring myself to do it" you admit.

"Prayer feels like talking to nothing but a statue, I doubt the 'mighty Zeus' even listens" you laugh at yourself,

"I feel more heard talking to a deer right? but mother wants to know what I prayed for during my time alone...maybe I'll tell her I prayed for a kind husband" you explain, not suprised the deer has wondered off inside the temple.

Quick to stop it, you jog back in attempt to block its path. Gently explaining it can't go inside, to which it pushes you, roughly with its head way too strong for a deer.

You pout at the deer's change in mannerisms, getting up angrily, then suddenly hearing leaves rustling in the wind. That's apparently a sign of Zeus's presence.

When you turn back to the deer it begins to morph into... a man. A very tall man, with white hair, light blue electric eyes cloth sitting on his waist. You tumble backwards in shock.

The man then crouches to your level, flashing a pearly white smile. "Didn't mean to scare ya pretty" he extends his hand, hesitantly you take it, putting your much smaller one in his palm, feeling his thumb ghost over your knuckles as he slowly pulls you up.

"My stars, you are Zeus" your eyes dart between the statue and the man, he laughs loudly at your wide eyed expression. "I prefer Satoru" he smugly corrects.

You see, Gojo had been watching you, at the start of his infatuation he was checking the ongoings of his temple until he noticed your unearthly beauty, proud to see you in priestess dress. What took him by surprise was your complete lack of interest in the whole priestess thing.

Shifting into a deer to be closer to you, struggling to fight the urge of scoffing at your unfaithfulness to him and teach you a damn lesson.

"I hear you wish to speak with me, not a statue of me?" he teases, the taunt feels like a jab at your beliefs. In a sense he was right, your doubts stemmed from not seeing him, now here he is and you dont know what to do.

"I didn't wish to be disrespectful" you murmur, noticing he's still holding your hand. He laughs softer, you're an interesting one, he'd like to play with you a bit more.

"Well I wish to prove how real I am, I believe your doubt comes from a place of disbelief in my existence?" he says, guiding your hand to his chest. As soon as your fingers graze his chiseled skin you feel a flutter of nerves bundle in your core, waiting in anticipation.

"See? I'm right here darlin'" he hums, relishing how you visibly get shy. "Maybe I need to touch you so you know I'm real, how's that sound?"

You blurt out a yes way too quicklyfor your liking, taking note of the devilish look in his glowing eyes as he leans in. You feel his lips ghost over yours, he's grinning wickedly at your desperation.

"I'll show you how real I am sweet thing"

#gojo x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #greek mythology au #jjk

[bretongirlwrites]

‘O it really exists!’ said I: ‘this door, it exists! here we are!’

‘Of course we are,’ said Delphine, pretending she had entirely believed it: ‘we’ve only to figure out how to open the damn thing. No doubt you’ll be of some help, – as Dragonborn, –’

The light we had had in caves and corridors past, was now gone, and Esbern’s torchlight passed over the walls as if to read them; and sought out, over and over, that symbol he’d chased all the way up. At Delphine’s invitation he looked at me; and I stepping aside, said:

‘You are Blades! – I know nothing of your secrets, still.’ How I’d worked to protect secrets I hardly knew! – ‘You no doubt know more about this than I do. How did you get into Cloud Ruler Temple, when it, – when it, –’

When it existed, when it shone, when it stood! when it had been proud, – not little more than this, than dust in the darkness, than hardly-guarded stone-dead towers of ivy! when the Blades had been great, and Delphine and Esbern had not gone hesitatingly in shadow and in the unknown… 

‘We got into Cloud Ruler,’ said Delphine at last, ‘at the front gate, and hoped the guard on duty recognised us.’

The sculpted face upon the door, which even Esbern hesitated to know, –

‘There was no magic or foolery to it,’ said she: ‘only, only, orders. Duty. People.’

‘Sky Haven,’ said Esbern, who had brought his torch to look at the floor, and found there a spiral of irregularities: ‘is different. Assuredly so. There was nothing at Cloud Ruler worth preserving more than Alduin’s Wall, –’

Delphine made some face at him right in his torchlight; and he apologised; and there passed between them some dark and melancholy recollection, which flickered the flames, and brought dust glinting into the air all about. I had never known such painful silence, as that which reigned here, and in that unmoving moment; save that which at Cloud Ruler, had threatened to breach the walls and go sombre into the snow, kept out only by my dreams of long-gone banners; half wanted something to spring out at us, that we had not the responsibility of being first.

‘I have it,’ said Esbern quietly, when he dared return to inspection: ‘the Dragonborn is indeed the key. Here is the rune again; and here, – it is the dragon-blood which is wanted.’

I shuddered, and put my hands in my pockets; but Esbern’s attention was not yet on me; rather he looked full at Delphine, and said:

‘And we have the Dragonborn. It is different, it is all different. We hardly know what we are opening: but we are no longer lost in the past: we may hope, –’

‘You may hope,’ said Delphine, ‘when we have got this damn door open,’ and eyes turned that we not see the light nor the fire in them, – meaning to inspect the floor, knelt reverent upon it.

#breton girl writes #oc:julienne

[wispstalk]

bruma vignettes

Bruma in spring: The roads, clear of snow for the first time in months, offer no easy passing. The forested slopes soak up meltwater; the roads turn to mush, rutted deep with wagon-tracks, the movement of herds to fresh pastures where the grass bursts from the sleeping soil.

The Hero of Kvatch and his apprentice go out ranging. Looking for sinister signs among this flurry of movement: reddening skies, whiffs of sulfur. Combing the wilderness for arches of black stone, witnessed only by themselves and the hawks. One erupts from the spongy ground of a pristine glade, turning it hard and cracked and burnt. Sparrows and stags and pine martens flee. The two hunters enter.

After the gate falls, the Hero of Kvatch stalks back to the trail. No one is faster than his apprentice, but his long legs outpace her. Absorbed in his brooding, he vanishes around the hairpin turns that snap back and forth across the mountain.

She finds him waiting for her on a rocky ledge that punches a gap in the masses of trees. A nice view of the valley below. He’s chewing something. Holds out his hand: a spruce tip, such a bright green it seems to glow with reckless optimism.

For fending off scurvy and spring sicknesses, he tells her. That is the lens through which he sees the world: its ailments. He sets about filling his hip pouch with the buds, claims it makes a pleasant tea. Raw and fresh, the initial taste is bitter, the texture like soft caterpillar legs dancing over her tongue. She almost spits it out. Endures. Savors the reward of subtle earth and spice that lingers in her mouth, all the way to the temple.

—

Bruma in summer: Sweltering days giving way to cool nights. No one quite knows how to dress themselves. Pile on layers, peel them off, odd assemblies of thick woolen shawls and trousers hacked off at the knee. Sticky, fragrant shade beneath the bowed branches of the laurels; sere fields and pastures where they have been cleared away. The sun makes lazy exits and the markets become livelier in the evenings once the breeze kicks up. Music and chatter drifting from tavern doors, flung open wide.

—

Bruma in autumn: A storm surges up from the balmy Abecean. The Jeralls turn their backs and let it blow itself out. Pounding rain recruits cold and wind on its way north, turns to hail: the lash of Kynareth or a tribute to the stone.

Down in the foothills, the trees throw out one last defiant burst of color. Clad like festival dancers, they form a circle around the valley with all its smoking chimneys, a sort of reverse bonfire. They shed their red and gold finery in tantalizing pieces. Naked grey branches, stoic in the wake of their revels, keep weary watch over the houses nestled in the cradle of the mountains.

Peer through the windows of those houses, glowing gold with lantern-light. See that there are harvests on the tables within, despite everything.

—

Bruma in winter: There is a path, hidden by hemlock branches and the bare skeletons of wormwood, that carves its way into the sky. Now it is so clogged with snow that those who walk it must wear bearpaws of bent willow and tie trailing sprays of pine to their packs to mask their footsteps.

When the snow-haze lifts, the temple in the sky can almost be seen. A determined eye might catch a rocky ledge where the shapes are a bit too regular. The temple meets that gaze with indifference: any challenger must first survive the climb.

Within Cloud Ruler, there is safety and boredom. The Blades spread crushed rock on the icy battlements, in part to make their patrols less perilous, and in part for something to do. The heir to the throne is a fixture in the great hall. His eyes grow shadowy as the long nights, his hands stain with ink, the cedar smoke of the hearth sinks into his hair and the roughness of his rare-used voice.

He realizes that it has been days, or weeks, or— some time since he has been out to greet the sun. Its wan light feels like a cruel mirror. But he goes around gathering up armor against the biting wind: a shirt that smells of a friend, smoke and sweat and horse and iron. A bearskin coat over that, and an old worn blanket of checked wool.

His slippered feet are unsteady on the hard-packed ice despite the gravel. He makes it to the battlements, stares down at the expanse of grey and white that yawns beneath him. Snaps an icicle the length of his arm off the ledge of the wall. Holds it up, considers the way it gathers up enough wan light to glitter.

He hucks it, like a spear, at a crooked spruce that clings to the downslope. The tree shudders and drops its burden of snow. The shatter and soft thump are amplified, bouncing off rock faces, and a patch of snow shifts and slides until it comes to rest against a boulder.

He lets out a soft curse and a laugh. Careless. Petulant. All the snow that mantles these moutains could be brought down, perhaps by a shout of anguish or frustration or sheer bafflement. The heir to the empire has had enough of inviting catastrophe. He knows how to take pleasure in a little peace and quiet.

White peaks scrape holes in a matching sky and vanish into them. These austere mountains have borne the cold for countless turns of the season, before there were people to do any counting. They will weather more yet.

#trying to get out of these characters heads a bit and failing lol #i just CANNOT purge oblivion from my system i need to be leeched #tes oblivion #martin septim #hero of kvatch #oc: tanis #oc: coradri #ray writes

[jasminewalkerauthor]

Deep dives into folklore: Egyptian mythology

Egyptian mythology is a rich and complex tapestry that weaves together a diverse pantheon of gods, goddesses, and mythical beings, providing insights into the beliefs and cosmology of ancient Egypt. The mythology of ancient Egypt spans thousands of years, evolving and adapting over different periods of the civilization's history. Here's a deep dive into key aspects of Egyptian mythology:

Creation Mythology:

1. Atum and the Ennead:

Atum, the primordial god, is often associated with the sunset and creation. According to some myths, Atum emerged from the chaotic waters of Nun and created himself.

Atum then produced the Ennead, a group of nine deities, including Shu (air) and Tefnut (moisture), who gave birth to Geb (earth) and Nut (sky).

2. Geb and Nut:

Geb and Nut, the children of Shu and Tefnut, were initially inseparable, but Shu raised Nut above him, creating space between them—representing the sky—and allowing life to flourish on Earth.

3. Osiris, Isis, Set, and Nephthys:

Osiris, the god of the afterlife and rebirth, ruled Egypt with his sister-wife, Isis. Set, another sibling, grew jealous and murdered Osiris.

Isis, the devoted wife, gathered Osiris's body parts, resurrecting him for a brief period to conceive their son, Horus.

The conflict between Horus and Set symbolizes the struggle between order and chaos.

Pantheon:

1. Ra:

Ra, the sun god, was a central figure in Egyptian mythology. He traveled through the sky during the day and navigated the underworld at night.

Ra's journey through the underworld and rebirth at dawn mirrors the cycle of the sun.

2. Horus:

Horus, often depicted with a falcon head, was associated with kingship and protection. The Pharaohs were believed to be the earthly embodiment of Horus.

The Eye of Horus symbolizes protection, healing, and power.

3. Thoth:

Thoth, the ibis-headed god, was the scribe of the gods and the inventor of writing. He played a crucial role in the judgment of the deceased in the afterlife.

4. Anubis:

Anubis, the jackal-headed god, presided over mummification and guided souls through the afterlife. He weighed the hearts of the deceased against the feather of Ma'at during the judgment in the Hall of Ma'at.

Afterlife and the Duat:

1. Duat:

The Duat was the realm of the dead, a mysterious and perilous place that the deceased had to navigate to reach the afterlife.

2. Ma'at:

Ma'at, the goddess of truth, justice, and cosmic order, played a crucial role in the afterlife judgment. The heart of the deceased was weighed against the feather of Ma'at.

3. Osiris and the Afterlife:

Osiris became the ruler of the afterlife, offering the possibility of eternal life to the deceased who passed the judgment in the Hall of Ma'at.

Rituals and Beliefs:

1. Mummification:

The process of mummification was a vital ritual to preserve the body for the afterlife. Organs were removed, and the body was treated with natron before being wrapped in linen.

2. Book of the Dead:

The Book of the Dead was a collection of spells and rituals designed to guide the deceased through the afterlife successfully.

3. Temples and Cults:

Temples were dedicated to specific gods, and cults practiced rituals and ceremonies to honor and appease the deities.

Egyptian mythology reflects the Egyptians' deep connection to the natural world, their preoccupation with the cyclical nature of life and death, and their profound religious beliefs. It served as a foundation for their societal norms, rituals, and the concept of an afterlife. The stories of gods and goddesses, creation myths, and the pursuit of balance and order continue to captivate and inspire curiosity about this ancient civilization's spiritual beliefs.

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#writeblr #writers of tumblr #writing #bookish #booklr #fantasy books #creative writing #book blog #ya fantasy books #ya books #Deep dives into folklore #folklore #egyptian mythology #egypt #ancient egypt #mythology