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asumofwords · 1 year ago

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Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Cockwarming.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello my loves, this is a longer chapter than usual because I didn't want to split it up. Updates for a bit may be slow at the moment, but will try update you all as much as I can. Thank you all for the love and well wishes <3 Enjoy

Chapter 79: Moon Tea

Aemond stayed true to his word.

For days, you frequented the Gardens alone, and found that your peace was neither disturbed by the King or your husband. It gave you a reprieve and the chance to breathe away from it all.

A chance to collect yourself, to gather the pieces that had been violently scattered across the earth below.

And with those days, you sat where you usually did and attempted to read the mountain of books and stories that were piled high in your shared chambers, courtesy of Aemond. Some being novels that you had read already, others being new ones that the Prince thought might spark interest.

You had to begrudgingly admit, that he was right.

The books that he left you did spark interest, if only you got through the first few pages before being unable to read further. Your attention span had dwindled, and even though you believed Aemond when he said he would keep the King away from you, any noise, any presence of someone walking past, a knight or servant or Lord, you would still flinch, and your heart would race in your chest.

But still, Aegon had not been seen for days, and Aemond had been kind.

When you woke that morning, the young Prince had been curled around you as he usually was, awake far earlier than you, but content to let you sleep for if only moment more. It was a routine that the two of you had fallen heavily into.

He would rise with the sun as he always did, and watch over you as you slept, tucked to his chest as a lazy hand would rub soft and featherlike fingertips across your skin, desperate to touch you, yet not wanting to wake you up.

And you were thankful for it.

For Aemond’s time away in Harrenhal left little time to sleep, or breathe, or feel safe. Aegon’s attack adding to further lack of sleep or calm, and in a shocking turn of events, you had all three in Aemond's clutches.

You had wriggled in his hold, and the One-Eyed Prince hummed, pressing a lingering kiss atop the crown of your head. A gesture that you had previously only gotten from your mother or father.

When you were both dressed and seated at the table, the maids had brought in your breakfast for the both of you. The usual of meats, eggs and fruit, and todays warm bread, whose crust crackled under your excited hands, had olives kneaded throughout.

You ate together, enjoying the way the soft sponge of the bread had subtle sour bursts of flavour when a hidden slice of olive was revealed to your waiting mouth. It was different, and it was something that you decided in that moment that you liked.

Joanna placed your tea in front of you, and you thanked her softly, pulling the small glass pot of honey towards you as you put two heaping serves into the steaming brew. As you stirred the tea, Aemond watched you with an inquisitive eye before speaking, your spoon clinking against the side of the china.

“What are your plans for the day?” He asked, watching as you brought the teaspoon to your lips to lick the remnants of the honey off, sweetness coating the roof of your mouth before placing it back onto the matching saucer.

“I was going to go for a stroll through the Garden, then perhaps make my way to the Library.” You picked up the steaming tea and brought it to your lips, blowing the steam away.

“I will be joining you today.”

You brought the unsipped tea away from your lips, “Oh? But haven’t you your duties to attend to?”

“I have a duty to my wife.” His eye was focused on you, “And so I have freed my day to spend it with you.”

Freed his day?

Your stomach turned, but for what reason, you did not know.

You nodded stiffly, bringing the tea to your lips to sip, tasting the tart, minty tea move hotly down the back of your throat. You blinked, a spark of familiarity bursting on your tongue.

“And what shall we do on this fine day?” You asked him, hot tea in your hands still as you looked out to the window.

The sun was high in the sky, and there was not a cloud in sight in Kings Landing. There was no looming storm, or brusque winds. It looked to be a beautiful day.

“It’s a surprise.”

Anxiety was what you felt.

Surprise.

You sipped at the tea again, eyebrows drawn as you tried to figure out why the tea you had been drinking so frequently suddenly tasted oddly familiar.

“Are we going to see Vermithor?” You asked, knowing that you would not.

But you so desperately wished to see him. You so desperately wished to fly again. To be by his side. To feel his bond and connect again. To assure him that you were okay. To soar high amongst the clouds, to feel free, to feel you again.

Aemond did not respond, and let the chambers bask in the silence of his answer.

No.

You looked down and placed the tea back on the table, moving to take a star fruit onto your plate, cutting it up to eat. Aemond watched you the whole time, no longer using your hands to tear the flesh apart, and instead using the sharp knife and fork.

“Perhaps,” Aemond began, watching your reaction, “I could take you to fly upon Vhagar’s back.”

You swallowed thickly, heart beating against your ribs, hands tightening around the cutlery.

Vhagar.

Arrax.

Lucerys.

Dracarys.

“I think I am perfectly content on the ground, thank you.” You grit out.

You did not want to be anywhere near Vhagar.

You lifted the tea to help wash down the tart star fruit which seemed to have gone bad in your mouth, its sticky flesh stuck in the back of your throat.

As the steaming brew washed over your taste buds you froze again. Why was it so familiar? Tart. Minty. A hint of honey. Aemond’s eye was no longer on you, instead sheepishly looking down at his plate as he cut through a thick slice of sausage.

Familiar.

“Please Princess, you must drink the tea.” The Dowager Queen had said quietly, the Maester beside you looking with clinical eyes, the colour from them seemingly gone, and nothing but a blank mask upon his face.

You took another sip, letting the brew settle upon your tongue. Minty. Tart. Almost earthy in its flavour, and yet as you took another trying sip it all came together. Aemond placed some meat into his mouth to chew, eye looking back up at you.

It was familiar.

And now you knew why.

Moon Tea.

It was Moon Tea.

They were giving you Moon Tea.

You sipped deeply on the tea in hand, draining the last of the dregs into your eager and waiting mouth.

It was Moon Tea.

They were giving you Moon Tea.

You placed the tea cup back down on the table as you looked at your husband.

Was he giving you Moon Tea?

Was this his doing?

You moved to open your mouth and ask him, but stopped.

Aemond, would never give you Moon Tea. Aemond would never prevent his seed from taking. Because Aemond had done nothing but tell you of his desires for an heir and watching you grow with his child.

You placed a small cut of star fruit into your mouth and chewed in thought.

Could it be them?

Could it be the King?

Was this another part of Aegon to spite his brother?

Or was this Alicent or Otto’s doing?

No.

The Greens needed an heir to support the treaty and solidify it.

As Aemond began to finish his meal, the maids entered the chambers to collect the plates and empty cups, Joanna’s eyes flitting to the empty tea cup.

She was checking if it had been drunk.

The maids.

The maids had been giving you Moon Tea.

But surely the maids were not doing it of their own volition, after all they barely know you, and if either were caught giving you such a thing, both would be killed for treason.

Aemond stood to move about the room, collecting some tomes on the side table.

But only Maesters, woods witches and brothel mistresses were skilled in making the tea.

The Maester.

Aemond came back over to you, books in hand. His pale fingers were wrapped tightly around a pile of three, a familiar black leather bound book that was broken on the top. Aemond looked at you and waited for you to stand.

You stood on shaky legs, mind reeling.

The Maester and maids were giving you Moon Tea.

You had allies.

Kepa.

You bit the sides of your cheeks to stop the smile that attempted to wind up your face, and blinked away the tears that had begun to tickle at your eyes.

Your mother and father had eyes on you.

The two of you walked down to the gardens together, the sun beaming warmth on the two of you. You led the way to your favourite spot, and Aemond followed, moving to sit at the small table that sat in the centre of the space.

The Targaryen Prince placed the three tomes in the centre of the table before turning to look at you.

“The road ahead of us is not easy.” Your uncle began, voice crisp, “But I intend to pave the path with good intentions.”

Aemond kept his violet eye on you, the sun brightening the sapphire orb beside it.

Road?

“If you will let me.” He finished, waiting for your response.

Your mouth felt dry.

“And what road do you speak of?” You spoke slowly, unsure.

Behind Aemond, a group of servants came towards you, silver and gold trays in hand.

You looked at Aemond, brows furrowed, before back at the servants, who began to place trays of food atop the table around the books.

Atop the silver and gold trays were cakes and pastries of all kind, rolls of puffed custard, buns with cinnamon and biscuits, all piled high and far too much for the two of you. Some more familiar, the others new to you.

On one tiny china dish in particular, sat two lemon tarts.

“Aem, stop!” You giggled, rushing towards your uncle as he snuck into the Keeps Kitchen, small hands grabbing piles of freshly baked lemon tarts in his own.

“They’re your favourite!” The young boy hushed, grabbing more than his hands could hold, tucking them into his arms before turning to face you, violet eyes dancing in mischief and cheeks blush red.

“Shh! If the Septa-“ You began, smile cracking wider on your face as you turned to look around the darkened kitchen as a noise caught the both of your attention.

Footsteps echoed down the hall, and Aemond’s eyes widened, one hand flying out to grab yours, a single lemon tart falling to the floor between you before he was pulling you with him towards a secret path, winding down the corridors.

Your hand flew to your lips as you giggled, half running with your uncle into a dark secret passage, hidden behind a stone door covered in a painting of two lovers entertained, fire ablaze around them.

As you ran through the corridor and through the passage, two more tarts were lost on your escape, falling to the cold stone floors, forgotten by the two young children who had stolen them.

Loud laughter pealed from the both of you as you heaved in breaths, Aemond’s hands holding the crushed tarts to his robes, sticky crumbs stuck to his green robes in the dark.

“There is a thief amongst us!” You exclaimed, nothing but joy rising in you.

“No such thing.” Aemond responded defiantly, teeth showing in his wide grin.

“Well, give me the spoils then.” You giggled, greedy hand reaching outwards towards Aemond, who still held the tarts nestled against his chest by singular arm.

But only two remained.

Aemond’s small hand lifted a crushed tart and held it out to you, smiling.

You turned to look at Aemond, “Lemon tarts?”

“I remember them being your favourite.�� He hummed.

You could not stop the smile that teased your lips.

“I remember you stealing them from the kitchens.” You teased.

“And I remember you asking me to.”

You moved to sit at the table, spiced Dornish wine being poured into seperate goblets for the two of you. Aemond followed and sat opposite, back stiff as it always was. The man seemed to have a permanent stick up his spine, posture exactly like his mother.

They were more alike than either would likely think.

“I did no such thing.” You responded contritely.

“Hm.”

The two of you sat together and nibbled at the plates of treats, sipping from your wines as he reached across the table, picking up the broken leather tome to hand you ‘The Fourteen Flames’.

There was an undeniable shift between the two of you.

Aemond could be an ally.

Not only had the One-Eyed Prince stepped away from his duties for the day, he had arranged for desserts of all kinds to be brought to the two of you. He had brought three of your favourite books to read together.

And he had brought lemon tarts.

You took the book from Aemond and flicked it open at the start, not knowing where you had gotten up to the last time, barely reading the words on the pages, instead thinking about what was to come and what was required of you.

The two of you nibbled and read in parallel with each other, a silent affair, if not for the soft chewing, sips, or the turning of pages. On occasion, Aemond would hum as he read, and you could not help your gaze from rising to look at him.

You let yourself observe him, if not truly for the first time since your arrival, in a way that was undisturbed or clouded by rage.

The soft round cheeks that Aemond once had, had melted away from his face, revealing sharp and high cheekbones that hollowed his face. The nose that had once been buttoned and sloped, had now grown aquiline, pointed, and angled, sharp to match the rest of his features.

You remembered that if the days were humid, or if he had spent much time training, his hair would become wavy and frizz, the volume doubling, much like his mothers.

As a child Aemond had shoulder length hair, that he always wore in the same style, until recently. Today, his hair was pulled backwards from the sides, braided and pulled into a singular, long braid at the back of his head, the rest of his silver locks laying flatly on his back.

A ray of light shone on one side of the man, and his silver hair seemingly glowed from the light. As though it held light itself. As though it was created for it. For Valyrian blood carried these Godly aspects, and for the first time, you looked at him and realised what it may be like for someone of non-Valyrian descent to gaze upon you.

It looked heavenly.

Godly.

Pure.

Was this how he saw you?

Was this how the realm saw you all?

Was this why you were said to be closer to Gods than man?

The longer you looked, the more you noted about your husband.

His lips were plumb, a soft pink, and curled lightly up at the sides, as though he was always smirking or on the verge of smiling. His lips, which you had seen sneer, and grin, and frown at you, naturally tilted upwards. And you were stuck with the knowledge that they were soft.

Then there was his eye.

As children, you had loved his eyes. The way they had expressed so much, had shown so much, without the need for words. You could tell when he was younger if he was upset or excited, and despite how hard he would argue that he was neither, you always just knew. The bright violet would light up when you were near, and the two of you would excitedly talk for hours. And as he has grown, the violet seeing eye had stayed the same.

Ever telling of his moods and desires.

But now, a large scar cut through his cheek, and the secondary eye you had loved as a child was lost, and replaced with a sapphire orb. A colour which you had once loved, the colour of the night sky when the stars lit the realm, the colour of Forget-Me-Nots in Spring, or Gentians in the late days of Summer, or even, now that you looked at it longer, the colour of blue Monkshood, flowers you knew to grow towards the North.

Sapphire had once been a colour that marked the flowers bloom for you, the stars and their tales, but now it marked a time of change. The eye that was lost was replaced, and so was that part of Aemond.

With the loss of the young boys eye came the embodiment of the deep and grotesque scarring. The violence, the anger, the rage, and the spite. With the loss of his eye, came the Aemond that he had grown to be.

Scarred. Tortured. Angry.

Riddled with sorrow, animosity, and cynicism.

And over the few days having been spent together, and the tension slowly bleeding away from the two of you, you came to realise that there were still small parts of Aemond inside that you remembered.

Still holding on.

Still lingering.

The Prince’s seeing eye was a reminder of what was, and his missing one a reminder of what is.

One violet eye. Your memories of youth together.

The sapphire orb. The new memories created.

Good and bad, both there upon his face.

Both there within him.

A man of complexity that even you were still trying to understand.

But he had changed.

His demeanour towards you had changed.

Always you.

I love you.

Aemond was not the only one who had changed either. You had changed too. The scars on your body were similar to his eye. A reminder of what has happened. A reminder of change.

A reminder of what has been lost.

Visual representations of the people that you had turned out to be.

And if you continued to play your cards right, if you continued to slowly gain his trust, if you continued to slowly get him to come to your side, to follow your every beck and call, to carry out his word own doing anything for you, he could help you.

Do anything for you.

Kesan tepagon ao tolvie run.

I will give everything to you.

It was slow work, tedious, and something that could not be rushed. Go too fast in creating the bond, and he would know something was amiss. He would know that you were not sincere in your affections or intentions.

He would know.

For Aemond was a smart man, cunning, clever. As he always had been.

But you had been working to his strengths, and his weaknesses, as well as your own, and finally, the fruits of your labour were beginning to show.

Though there was a shadow of doubt that continued to linger in the back of your mind.

Was he manipulating you the way you were him?

Was he aware?

For if he was, he did not show it. But after recent events, the matching black robes, his violence towards Aegon, his disdain being voiced aloud, you knew that you were succeeding in what you had known would be a long, and lengthy process.

Aemond was already a suspicious man. Untrusting. And it would take time. And time is what you had. He would take from you, and you would take in return.

“What are you thinking?” His voice pulled you from your thoughts.

You felt your cheeks blush and you cleared your throat, looking down.

He had caught you staring.

“How different you have become.” You replied, looking back to his violet eye.

Aemond hummed and placed the book he had been reading back into his lap, closing it shut, and you mirrored him, shutting the busted tome in your own.

“You have… grown into a man.” You continued.

“And you, a woman.”

His gaze was so intense, the way he looked at you made your heart skip a beat. His pupil almost swallowed his iris whole, and the lid of his eye was half closed, looking at you from under his lashes.

Looking at you with intent.

With desire.

Hungrily.

Ravenously.

You looked away, eyeing the untouched lemon tarts on the side of the table. Neither of you making the first move to eat them, instead nibbling at all the other treats around them. You even dared to eat a rhubarb tart, which flavours were not favoured by your tastebuds.

Aemond followed your gaze, and reached for the small plate, lifting it across the table and offering it to you.

You took the tart from Aemond’s waiting hand. The darkness of the passage shrouding the both of you, a small sliver of light streaming in from an open hole on the side, shining moonlight onto the older boys hair.

The young Prince smiled brightly at you as you bit into the tart, watching you with excited violet eyes as you hummed, enjoying the sour and sweet pastry. But the young Prince did not move to eat his tart, and instead, Aemond held it in his hand as he watched you devour yours.

Crumbs covered your lips as you licked them clean, swiping up the lemony custard away from your lips. The young Prince’s eyes darted to your mouth, if only for a moment. A warmth spread through his body and a blush rose on his cheeks, though you could not see it in the dark.

“They are so much better when they’re fresh.” You had grinned, chewing loudly as Aemond tried his best to not laugh at his niece who ate more like a wild animal than a Princess, but he still did not move to eat it with you.

“Aren’t you going to eat your spoils, Aem?” You had teased, confused as to why the older Prince had not moved to eat the treat that he had stolen.

A pause.

He was thinking.

Aemond slowly moved his arm, tart in hand towards you, and offered you his wordlessly.

A shy smile replaced the once excited one on his lips.

You blinked at Aemond and reached across the table to grasp a tart, putting it on your plate.

Aemond’s hand lingered between the table, unsure of whether to take the plate back to himself, which he eventually did, picking up the fresh tart and placing it upon his own plate.

You stared at each other uncertainly, waiting for the other to begin. And when Aemond made no move after a few moments past, you picked up a small fork and pressed down into the centre of the tart, cutting it in half, and then half again. Aemond watched with a keen eye as you brought it up to your lips to chew.

The sweetness of the tart spread across your tongue, subtle hints of lemon mixing with the pastry. You could not help the smile that spread on your lips, eyes closing as you savoured what had been a favoured treat in your youth.

“They are so much better when fresh.” You spoke, watching Aemond slowly cut into his own, though not lifting it to his mouth.

“Are you not going to eat yours?” You asked, watching as he seemed to enjoy observing you eat.

Aemond smirked, his eye roaming slowly up and down your body, “My tastes are more inclined to things that are sweet.”

You blushed, heat rising in your cheeks.

Aemond was flirting.

Warm spread through your body as you shifted, rubbing your thighs together, “I think you also like the bite that comes with it…. The lemon, of course.” You said coyly, a small smirk of your own spreading on your lips.

“Truthfully, lemon tarts have never been favoured by me.”

“But you used to always eat them as a child.” You argued, brows furrowed, “You would steal large piles of them in the Kitchens for me and-“

Oh.

Aemond gave you a small, shy smile, though it short lived before he picked up his plate, and offered it across the table to you, tart cut in half, untouched beyond that.

Uneaten.

"Here." The young Prince handed you his tart in the dark, small smile on his lips.

"Are you sure, Aem?" You had asked, hand hovering in the air between you.

"Take it." He smiled.

An offering that you took.

“I thought you liked them.” You said, almost feeling guilty.

“I liked them because you did.”

That night you lay in bed beside Aemond, curled against him to sleep, the heat of his body radiating around you. You shifted, trying to get comfortable, rolling over to face your back to him as you closed your eyes.

The day had been good.

You had spoken without vitriol, ate sweets, and read together. You had walked around the Gardens, purposely avoiding the spot where the Monkshood grew, before you both had stopped at the Godswood, looking up at its bright red leaves.

Aemond had moved to sit beneath it, but it was too much for you. Too normal. Too familiar, and you had lowered your head and walked back to the chambers, leaving a confused silver haired Prince behind. You ate dinner together quietly, and thanked him for spending the day with you, for the lemon tarts, for the walk, with a list you had compiled in your head, and he had given you a small hum in response.

When you were readied for bed, he had not looked at you, nor had he moved to touch you like he usually did. And instead, let you crawl into bed first, and then him a while after. Writing hunched over a parchment and singular candle light before joining you.

The hour was late, and your eyes had grown heavy, lulled by his even breathing and the warmth that he brought in the otherwise cozy chambers.

Two large hands gripped your waist as you had rolled, pulling you back against him.

Aemond, you quickly realised, craved physical touch. Searched for it wherever he went. Sought it out in you. Even if it was the barest of grazes of a finger on your arm, a hand through your hair. His hand in yours. Your body wrapped around his.

Aemond craved it, and sought it out from you frequently, and you let him.

The thin chemise that you wore did little for your modesty as you felt Aemond’s hardening cock press into the flesh of your ass. You shifted, feeling heat bloom within you at his arousal, rubbing backwards against him.

Aemond sighed, thrusting slowly up against you as one hand held your stomach, pulling you back on him, the other worming its way beneath your head, reaching out to grip the hand that had rested beneath it.

Long fingers intertwined with yours as he pushed forward again, anticipation building in your chest. The hand on your stomach slid over the curve of your hip, resting on the bone as he pulled you back to guide you against him, chasing his own pleasure as the chemise slowly rose up your thighs.

Reaching back, you pulled the thin silk further up your body, revealing your bare core to him, before moving back again, grasping his heavy length in the palm of your hand. Aemond groaned and thrusted up into your grip as you gave him slow pumps.

You bit your lip, and guided the head down, feeling the leaking tip rub his arousal on your inner thighs as you lined him up with your core. The hand holding yours tightened, and you felt a puff of breath blow against the back of your head.

Rolling your hips backwards you let his cock glide through your folds, your slick coating his length. You sighed, back arching as his tip brushed against your bud, pleasure sparking within.

Aemond’s chest vibrated with a groan as he let you arch backwards towards him, assisting in the angle as you pushed the head of his cock to the entrance of your dripping centre.

Slowly he pushed through your folds, groaning as he stretched you apart on his cock, pleasure blooming in your core as you felt every vein and ridge of him brushing your walls inside.

There was no pain anymore when he did this. The pain had long gone, and only pleasure was in its place as you clenched around his length.

Aemond pulled out slowly before thrusting back into your heat, fingers twitching on your hip and in your hand. You mewled loudly into the room as he began to fuck you slowly, sensually, and sleepily.

You let your head roll backwards onto his shoulder as he kept a steady pace, the sound of your slick folds filling the chambers as you whined.

The gentle pleasure bloomed within you, with the angle and the way he was moving, his cock brushed against your inner pleasure spot with each thrust. Aemond had learnt your body well, in ways that you did not know where possible. In ways that he continued to learn, and continued to show you the results.

You let him fuck you sleepily, his hand moving to gently rub against your bud, soft, slow twists of his hand that gradually brought you closer and closer to your peak, other hand moving beneath you to grab at your breast, using it to pull you tightly against him.

Aemond did not whisper to you that evening, only soft moans and sighs leaving his lips behind you, head buried into your neck as he brought you lazily to your peak.

Pleasure rocked through you as you moaned, hips stuttering backwards as he continued his pace, fucking you through your release, slick coating your thighs and his cock as the fingers on your bud continued their ministrations.

Hot flames licked at you as he continued, his pace faltering as your walls clenched down on him tightly.

Aemond came with a grunt, pushing his cock to the hilt within you as he breathed raggedly into your shoulder, lips occasionally placing soft kisses to the skin. You felt his seed fill your core, its warmth settling inside of you hotly.

Turning your head, Aemond captured your lips into a searing kiss, keeping himself inside of you. He kissed you until you felt out of breath, your release blanketing you in the fuzzy warmth of fatigue.

You hummed as Aemond pulled away, pulling you tightly against him, his length twitching inside of you.

You shifted, trying to tilt your hips so that his cock would slide from your folds, but Aemond only tightened his hold on you, pulling you tighter to his chest.

“Shh. Go to sleep.” He murmured into your neck, placing another wet kiss there.

You stopped wriggling, feeling oddly full as you tried to do as he said and fall to sleep. It was distracting having him inside of you, and you would occasionally feel his cock jump within you, causing you to moan quietly and clench, and Aemond would shush you again.

Slowly but surely, the fatigue of the day swept you to your sleep, with Aemond still buried deeply inside of you.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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emotionalmessss · 2 years ago

Text

King of Curses

A/N: a little Sukuna one-shot for my first ever post. :) I'm open to writing more if anyone has some requests. :)

Synopsis: reader and megumi find themselves trapped in sukuna's domain. Non-canon. No spoilers.

Warnings: violence, kidnapping, rape/non-con, blood, gore. this is pretty dark and if that triggers you do not read! 18+ readers only! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Word count: 8.2k

Blood. It was the first thing that assaulted my senses. The air was thick with it. The stench of it was enough to make my nose curl upwards in revulsion, my eyes immediately stinging and tearing up. I forced my eyes closed, blinking away the burning sensation to my best abilities. The next thing I noticed was the smell of death. It was everywhere, surrounding us from all sides, along with the piles of bones that littered the ground. This was Hell, I was so sure of it. The dread built up in my stomach, reminding me that we could easily become a pile of bones and rotting flesh if we were not cautious.

“Megumi.” I spoke out, my voice rumbling low with fear.

“I know.” The Sorcerer beside me glanced over, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

I suppressed the bile that rose up in my throat as we pressed on. The ground was covered in a thick layer of blood and water, making it incredibly difficult to maneuver. I had stepped on more bones than I could count, nearly losing my footing in the process. I would have toppled over if it weren’t for Megumi, his thick arm draped over my shoulder, keeping me balanced.

“We need to get out of here. Whatever here even is.” My teeth gritted, almost enough to shatter them into pieces. Not only was it disgusting here, but it was frigid. My fingers could barely function, the chill I felt traveled all the way to my bones.

Megumi gave a slight nod, but remained silent, he was too focused on what was ahead of us. Which was nothing much but more fog, blood, and bones. He was limping beside me, blood coating whatever was left of his uniform and clinging to his face. His upper leg was bleeding badly. Megumi and I were able to hold our own, our bodies strengthened from years of training and combat, but it didn’t mean that we couldn’t bleed out. And I feared that he would bleed out before we got out of here.

I wasn’t in the best of shape either, my bicep had suffered a deep cut, not nearly as bad as his though. However, it hadn’t stopped bleeding since we were summoned here. Wherever here even was. My mental state was more damaged than anything, the fear slowly eating away at my senses.

“Gojo?” I asked, peering up at him through my disheveled hair. “Nobara?”

My mind drifted to Itadori when the names of my friends fell from my mouth, a frown forming across my lips as I thought of my best friend. A vessel to Ryoumen Sukuna, the King of Curses. Itadori could no longer control him and in return, we all lost our friend for the time being, hopefully. My eyes stung with fresh tears at the thought of it, brimming over the bottom of my lashes. I shook my head. Itadori was strong. He was going to be okay. At least, I tried to convince myself every night.

“I don’t know. They might’ve made it somewhere safe. It seems like it’s only us here.” Megumi winced as he spoke, his ankle buckling beneath him and causing him to topple down in a heap. He cursed under his breath, his head hanging low, letting out an annoyed grumble.

“Megumi.” I dropped down to my knees beside him, the fabric of my skirt soaking up the crimson liquid, coating my thighs. “Let me wrap it at least.” My hands moved to cup his face, thumbing away the dry blood around his mouth.

He winced, squeezing his eyes shut in response. “That’s not important right now. I need to get you out of here.” He began to push himself off his knees, but buckled back down in the process.

“Just stop! Why do you always have to be so fucking difficult?” I shook my head in annoyance. My hands fiddled with the hem of my skirt, tearing a strip of fabric off. My eyebrows were pulled together in concentration as I began to wrap his wound, pausing and resuming when he gave a sharp exhale.

I knew that this wouldn’t be enough to completely stop the bleeding, but it was going to have to work for the time being. The navy fabric deepened in color as his blood pooled around it, soaking through it.

“You shouldn’t worry about me.” He scowled as I pulled him back up to his feet. This time, he was able to apply more pressure on it and gained more stability.

“Oh yeah? Then who will?” I rebutted, wiping my hands on my tattered uniform. I gave him a sideways glance, tempting him to try and say something else.

He fell silent at my words, allowing us to continue on our way. Even with the little strength he gained from my bandage, he still placed his arm around my shoulders, keeping me close to his side. Even by this slightest action, I felt a lot safer than a few moments ago. The warmth pooled around my stomach, tightening into knots. A small smile formed at the feeling, bringing me some sort of joy in this hell.

The further we walked, the stronger the smell of blood got, once again assaulting my nose. My lungs were struggling to gather enough oxygen, it felt as if the blood had coated itself inside of them, making it nearly impossible to get a full breath. I could tell Megumi was feeling the same. His labored breaths came out in short bursts from beside me, which had me worried.

I knew we were in a Domain of some kind, a rather large and dangerous one. The anxiety that I felt in my stomach had tripled, slowly eating away at my calm demeanor. I knew that Megumi was surely feeling the same, but he had not shown it. His attention was too focused on the unstable ground beneath his feet, occasionally glancing around us for precaution.

My eyes snapped forward when I finally shook off my dazed thoughts. The amount of bones had multiplied, seemingly appearing from nowhere. I swallowed hard, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment. The space around us seemed to open up more, my eyes taking notice of a clearing up ahead. A large structure began making its way into my hazy vision, the daunting shadow sending a chill down my back. I narrowed my eyes as I tried to focus, unable to tell due to the distance and fog.

My attention was turned back onto Megumi, I heard him swear and proceed to stumble on the remnants of animals, or humans. I couldn’t tell. I knew that time was a pressing matter, and it wouldn’t be wise to drag him all the way there in his condition.

“I’m going to get a better look. You wait here, okay?” I shifted out of his hold, starting to jog in the direction of the unfamiliar structure.

“Y/N! Slow down! We don’t know what’s out there!” Megumi called after me.

I ignored his warnings, running faster. The adrenaline was pumping through my veins, compelling my entire body to run. The mere thought of escaping this place was too much for my body to handle. I felt my lungs struggling to suck in the air that my body needed, but I didn’t care. Every breath I drew burned my throat, and every time I smelt the air, I wanted to puke.

The blood splashed around me as I pumped my legs faster, soaking into my shoes and nearly tripping me. I ignored it, continuing to press on while Megumi shouted after me. I gave him a sideways glance, noticing that he was struggling to keep up.

“Just wait there! I’ll be right back!” I yelled back, glancing over my shoulder. He had trailed far enough behind me that I didn’t hear the next words he shouted at me.

My attention returned as I neared the tower. My heart thumped against my ribs, numbing my senses with adrenaline. The air thickened, if that was even possible.

I was closer now, skidding to a stop as I craned my head back to look up. My eyes struggling to adjust due to all of the fog and darkness. I wiped them with the back of my hands, shaking my head in an attempt to alert my senses.

The haze left my vision, now able to process what was directly in front of me. This wasn’t a tower, building, or exit. It was a pile of bones. My stomach clenched and I covered my mouth, backing away slightly.

Skulls. Bones. Everywhere. This thing was made of them. There was even more littered on the floor. It towered sloppily, some were burnt, some were old, and some were fresh. I brought my hand up to my nose, which was now stinging with the stench of this place. I continued to back away from the base of it, my eyes following up the makeshift staircase, squinting as I noticed a chair of some sorts.

Oh, no.

This wasn’t just a tower of bones. This was a throne. A shrine.

My eyes widened at the realization, my heart thundering against my chest. “Megumi! Run! Don’t come over here!” I screamed, praying that he would hear me somehow. My mouth hung open in shock, desperately trying to find the words I needed.

Get out! Run! The voice at the back of my head screamed, but my body refused to listen.

My legs struggled to keep up with me as I cautiously backed up, feeling like they were filled with lead. As much as I wanted to turn around and run, I couldn't pull my gaze from the vileness of this all. My body buzzed with anxiety, tingling all over.

“What a little fool you are.” A voice behind spoke, my body jerked at the sound of it, stumbling around to face it. My vision swam at the quick action and I stumbled backwards, falling into the wet ground.

I flinched, my eyes staying glued on the ground around me, unable to find the courage to face that voice. When I refused to avert my eyes, I noticed a pair of sandals step towards me. I couldn’t find the courage to look up, knowing that if I did, I would be dead. The anxiety I felt manifested itself into pure and utter fear now, compelling my unrelenting body to move.

Slowly, I moved my eyes up and along the form that was dressed in white robes in front of me. My jaw slacked open, my hands planted beside me to keep me upright as I stared at the King of Curses himself. His red eyes bore into mine, a sinister smirk plastered across his marked face.

Sukuna. This imposter wore the skin of my best friend, but I found no comfort in being around him. I sucked in deeply as I stared back at him. He was bigger than Itadori, stronger, and faster. His body was taut with muscles, rippling beneath his robes. The black markings covered his face, the two slitted eyes shut tightly as he watched me. This wasn’t my best friend staring down at me, this was a monster. A monster that stood for everything that Itadori was against. Someone, something that stole the life of my best friend.

“A pretty little fool.” He mused, his eyes glimmering in the darkness.

A wash of anger flooded through me, a mixture of the pain I felt for Itadori and Sukuna’s condescending words.

“Sukuna.” I hissed. “Let Itadori go.” I demanded, surprising myself with my tone.

"I didn't give you permission to speak to me so informally now did I?" The king of curses tilted his head to the side to examine my frail body better.

"Let my friend go." I repeated, stubbornly fighting back.

Sukuna’s expression morphed into that of amusement, his back stretching to stand straighter. I, on the other hand, shifted back, leaning fully on my blood soaked palms. My heart raced, the panic beginning to set in, but all I could think of was Itadori.

“That little brat?” Sukuna remained planted where he stood, his hand coming up to his chin in faux consideration. “No, I don’t think I will.” His smile widened, displaying his unnaturally sharp teeth.

“Let him go and we won’t bother you ever again.” I gritted, shifting onto my feet now. The blood soaked through my uniform, clinging to my body and dripping down my bare thighs, which didn’t go unnoticed by Sukuna. His eyes flicked down to my body for a moment, then moved back to my face.

He chuckled. “I have another idea. One you might enjoy more.”

The grip on my nerves was slipping, telling me that I should run, hide, and find Megumi. Sukuna made no move towards me, but his words frightened me. The threat behind that sentence was enough to make me break out into a sprint around him.

“Megumi!” I cried, my legs clumsily attempting to keep up with my pace.

He was on me before I could even think. His arms snaking around me, capturing and caging me against his body in a flash. I cried out, struggling in his vice like grip, squirming violently. His hands lingered on my torso, right beneath my breasts.

“We haven’t even begun, where are you running to?” Sukuna chuckled, his mouth pressed against the shell of my ear. The blood rushed to the spot where his lips grazed ever so slightly.

I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to fathom what was happening. My head craned to the side, trying to avoid his hot mouth pressing into my ear. My back was flush against his chest, feeling his chest vibrate with another sinister laugh which got louder, and louder as I shuddered at the sound of it.

“Open your eyes. Your knight has arrived, little one.” He jeered, his warm breath tickling my cheek.

My eyes snapped open, despite their unwillingness to obey. My gaze fell upon Megumi, who was wide stanced a few feet away from us.

“This is going to be so much fun.” Sukuna whispered.

The urge to run kicked in again and I tried to dive towards him in a panic, but Sukuna’s grip was unrelenting, keeping me stuck to him. A cry left my chapped lips when he jostled me back against his chest, his fingers brushing over my breasts. The feeling of his fingers lingering over the material of my drenched uniform made me whimper, squirming in his grasp. A throaty groan that rumbled from his chest didn’t go unnoticed by me or Megumi, who’s stare hardened.

“Let her go.” Megumi made a move towards us, cautiously stepping towards the Curse that had me planted against him.

Sukuna barely moved when Megumi stepped forward, instead, I felt the sharp end of his nail press into the skin on my neck, stilling Megumi’s movements immediately. I sucked in a sharp breath, my eyes pleading. Megumi was no match for Sukuna, the difference in their strength was incomparable.

“I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t hurt her.” He said, realization at the threat registering across his features. Sukuna’s pointed nail skimmed down the side of my neck, slowly making its way between my breasts.

“Whatever I want, huh? Then why don’t we make a deal? I’m sure we’ll come to an understanding we both enjoy.” Sukuna taunted, his hands trailing down the sides of my waist, his nails just barely brushing against my skin, making the threat known. If I tried to run, he’d gut me with his hands.

My mouth parted in disgust at his touch, slamming my eyes shut when I could no longer bear the look on Megumi’s face. Sukuna chuckled, enjoying the reaction he was pulling from Megumi, knowing he had struck a nerve by his actions.

“Stop this.” He demanded. “Let her go now.” Megumi’s eyes were blazing with anger, his fists were clenched at his sides. His calm exposure was slowly unraveling at the sight before him, my eyes remained focused at the ground.

“Are you deaf? Did you not hear what I just said, brat?” Sukuna shot back, annoyed with Megumi’s ignorance to his proposal.

“Hand her over and then we will talk.” Sukuna seemed to contemplate Megumi’s proposal, humming to himself in thought.

“Are you worried that I’m going to hurt her?” Sukuna nudged me slightly, his grip strengthening on my shaking body. I nearly stumble back from the slight push, his body keeping me upright when my legs start to shake.

I forced myself to take a deep breath, willing myself to stop the shaking.

My eyes met Megumi’s, his stare was hard, eyes glossy as he watched me. He was struggling to contain his anger, it was evident by the way he gritted his teeth when he spoke, and his rigid stance. I had rarely ever seen this side of him, and wished I never would again. My heart shattered as I noticed his bandage gone from his leg, fresh blood dripping down into the sea of dark liquid beneath us.

“Don’t make a deal with this bastard. Find a way out of here. I’ll be fine.” I broke my silence, pleading with him. Seeing him like this hurt a thousand times more than what Sukuna could do to me, or so I tried to convince myself.

“Hear that Sorcerer? She doesn’t want you here anymore. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her.” Sukuna laughed hard, the deep sound of it echoing loudly, temporarily deafening me.

His fingers lingered around the hem of my skirt, toying with the ripped material lazily. His head dipped down, pressing against the side of my cheek. I kept my eyes glued on Megumi, watching as his expression shifted to disgust and then back to anger in a flash.

To prevent Megumi from intervening, I spoke. “Let us both go and we will never bother you again.” I breathed deeply, flinching away from his touch.

Sukuna hummed once again in consideration, his head tilted into the soft flesh of my cheek. “Deal.” I could feel his smile against the side of my face, his attention returning to Megumi. His brows pulled in as he took a step towards us, as he waited for Sukuna to release me. Something flashed across his face that I barely noticed in time. It couldn’t have been from my expression, which remained blank. It had to be from Sukuna. He did something to make Megumi’s eyes widen.

“Wait, Y/N!” Megumi shouted, his words falling upon deaf ears.

My eyes squeezed shut, waiting to wake up from this nightmare, wanting to be back home to Gojo, Nobara and Megumi. I couldn’t stand another second of being in Sukuna’s presence. It was more overwhelming than I could have ever imagined. I prayed silently, my eyes closed firmly as I pleaded internally. My heart fluttered as I swayed slightly, the knot in my stomach slowly dissipating at the thought of being home.

I was met with silence. The suffocating feeling of Sukuna’s grip was gone. The air had become lighter, the oxygen finally making its way back into my lungs.

Breathing deeply, I opened my eyes slowly.

Blood. Bones. Once again filling my vision as the fear crept back into my system, paralyzing me in place. The room was spinning as my head snapped back and forth, my hands coming up to the sides of my head. No .

“You failed to clarify that I had to let you both go at the same time.” Sukuna sneered, the sound of his voice coming from an unknown location to me. My eyes searched frantically for Megumi, who was nowhere to be found. “Stupid girl.”

“Megumi!” I screamed, my voice cracking.

I stumbled backwards, turning on my heel and making a run for it. Tears blurred my vision as I ran through the thick fog, Sukuna’s laugh echoing in the distance, mocking me. I sobbed harder now, running blindly away from the voice that seemed to come from all directions. I wiped my eyes, the stinging sensation disrupting my vision as I slammed up against something hard.

I stumbled back, eyes widening when I met the gaze of Sukuna. His head was tilted to the side, staring at me through half lidded eyes, the thick muscles of his arms crossed over his chest. When I slammed into him, he barely flinched, watching me with amusement instead of annoyance. The look on his face was that of enjoyment, the curve of his lips silently telling me to try again.

And I did just that.

I retreated back, spinning on my feet and running in the opposite direction. The thickness of the fog once again lined my lungs, making my breaths come out in short gasps as I pumped my legs. The pool of blood beneath me splashed every time my feet slammed into it, staining my skin. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping me from passing out, it clouded my senses.

The air shifted, the haze that once filled my vision was replaced by the familiarity of that god awful shrine of bones. Confusion spread through me, I had been running in circles? No . He was controlling this. This was his own Domain, he had the power to do whatever he wanted.

“Have you finished, little one?” Sukuna’s voice was behind me again.

The hair on the back of my neck stood upright. The muscles in my body pulled tight, freezing me in place, my eyes widened as I began to understand. I turned my back to the bones, returning the heated gaze to Sukuna. His arms were crossed as he watched me with curiosity.

I took a small step back out of fear. Part of me wanted to step forwards and fight, but most of me wanted to keep as much distance between this curse and myself.

“What do you want from me?” The structure behind me provided very little comfort in this situation, knowing that I was caged in like an animal. Grimacing when I realized I had nowhere to go.

“Now isn’t that a dumb question from a dumb little sorcercer?” Sukuna laughs, loud and sharp and ear piercing, slicing through my confidence within seconds.

Before I could even react, he was on me. I found myself bent over a broken pedestal, folding in half at the waist. Sukuna’s hand molded against my lower back, keeping me pinned beneath him. A strangled cry left my throat at the sudden movement, barely even registering what he had done until it was too late to run.

“No!” A strangled cry flew from my lips, cutting through the heavy air.

Sukuna laughed, his hand placing more pressure against my back when I tried to buck forwards. The force he applied to my back made it harder to breathe, leaving me gasping and coughing for air. My hands planted against the side of the pedestal, trying to push my body upright and away. The smooth stone is a sharp contrast to the roughness of my palms, blood coating the insides of my nail beds.

“I’ve got you now, pet. There’s nowhere for you to run, no one to help you, no escaping . You’re all mine.” He says. A sick sense of fear builds up in my chest, my nails dig into the rock, attempting to wiggle away from him.

“Let go of me!”

“If you keep squirming like that, I’m going to start thinking you want this.” Sukuna’s voice rumbled from behind me, the sound of it sending a shock to my core.

Nothing came from my throat except a sharp cry, my face contorting in disgust as I futilely attempted to escape. The thought of me even enjoying this made me angry. There was no way. I would never. I could never. He just wanted a reaction out of me. He fed off them. My eyes enlarged when I felt Sukuna’s free hand touch the bottom of my skirt, the flimsy material acting as the only shield between his prying fingers and my inner thighs.

“Stop!” My shaky hands tried to find him, trying to detach his hands from my thighs. When that didn’t work, I clenched my thighs tightly together, preventing the access that he wanted. This did not seem to deter him, he snorted through his nose, and wedged his thigh between mine, parting them with ease.

Sukuna ignores me, his hands lifting my skirt, and his fingers proding against my underwear, testing the waters. I shivered, partially due to his cool fingers pressing against my core, and partially due to the fear growing inside my belly. I squirmed in his hold, earning nothing more than a snicker from him.

“Dry.” He says plainly. “Too bad for you, Megumi isn’t here to help you.” Sukuna sneered.

My face flushed with embarrassment, mixing with the anger and fear that was already present. My body jolted forwards against the stone when I felt his fingers hook beneath the fabric of my panties, ripping them to shreds with a small amount of force. His hand that held me down shifted, only for a moment, and only to flip me onto my back.

Half my body dipped off the structure, my legs spreading around his torso as he positioned himself closer to me. My teary eyes met with his lust filled ones, the look on his face was that of a demon. He was a demon after all. His lips pulled back into a smirk, his eyes focused on my face.

My thighs clenched around his body, attempting to keep him from moving any closer.

“Get the fuck away from me!” I wailed, nails digging into the skulls beneath me, trying to find the grip to pull myself away. My attempts remained futile, only doing so much as pushing the bones around.

Sukuna let out a sinister laugh. “Keep fighting me. It turns me on even more.”

His hands dug into the fleshy part of my thighs, spreading them further apart for him and ramming himself flush to my body. I let out a small whimper at the friction, his clothed erection meeting against the flesh of my pussy for a moment. His fingers dipped back down, my back arched upwards, trying to wiggle away.

I froze at the sudden feeling of his nail pressing into my cunt, not enough to hurt but enough to make me jump. I looked up at him through tear clumped lashes, my eyes widening. I swallowed back the sickness that threatened to make its way out of my throat, urging myself to keep it under control.

“I can make this hurt, or I can make this feel good, it’s your choice.” His words were like poison to my ears, embedding the fear further into my stomach. His nail still made its presence known, pressing deeper against my clit.

“Please.” It sounded more like a question, my eyes searched his amused face, trying to find some sort of trace of humility.

Sukuna smiled devilishly, bending down towards my stilled frame, and ignoring my pleas. The thick muscles of his back taking my focus, anything to distract myself. I twitched as his nail retracted and he rubbed gently, his thumb rolling in circles, building up the heat inside my core.

“Your body is reacting so deliciously to me.” He groaned.

I squirmed in his hold, turning my face away. “Please d-.”

“Don’t stop?” He chuckled.

Sukuna’s head dipped beside my neck, his tongue running along the side of it, leaving a wet, hot trail up to my ear. His breath was warm, a stark contrast to the cool air around us, so much so that I leaned into him. His fingers worked on the sensitive pearl, making me twitch every so often when he hit the right spot.

His tongue ran back down to my collar bone, leaving another wet trail. My hands planted themselves against his solid chest, pushing aimlessly against it. It rumbled beneath the tips of my fingers with another sick laugh of his.

“After I’m finished with you, no one will be able to satisfy you ever again.” He spoke.

Sukuna grunted, his hand leaving my pussy as he wrapped both arms around me, pulling me onto his lap. Instinctively, my legs wrapped around either side of him, out of fear of falling backwards. One arm wrapped tightly around my back, keeping me pressed into him, while the other ripped at the buttons of my top.

Each one popped open, exposing my chest, another shriek left my lips. My arms draped over the back of his shoulders, gripping onto him tightly for balance. With my shirt being ripped to shreds, this allowed Sukuna access to breasts, his head dipping down slowly. The heat of his mouth on my breast sent me into a frenzy of panic.

My back arched, my chest pressing into him. His mouth leaves trails of saliva along my chest, kissing all over my flushed skin. My blunt nails dug into his back, trying to cause him any sort of pain in hopes that he would back off. Sukuna barely flinched, instead he groaned at my actions.

His hips suddenly bucked forward, ramming his erection against my clit.

“Gah!” My mouth parted at the sudden feeling, my thighs clenched tighter around him, my hips grinding down against the feeling.

Sukuna’s mouth detached from my nipple, his eyes lazily flicking up to mine, looking at me with a knowing smile. My expression morphed into utter disgust at my body involuntarily reacting to him. His head tilted to the side ever so slightly as he moved his hips again, hitting that exact spot, this time harder and better.

A groan rumbled from the back of my throat, my head tilting back and my eyes squeezing shut. My hands clenched into his back, trying to relieve the pressure in my body somehow.

“Look at you. Coming undone when I’ve barely even touched you, like a little whore.” Sukuna's voice oozed. His free hand moved from my breast and down to my core, toying with the soft folds of my pussy. “You’d cum just like this if I let you, wouldn’t you?”

“Uh-” My mouth opened up in shock.

His fingers trailed up my slit, my arousal coating his fingers as he rubbed my clit. I could hardly keep myself steady, focusing solely on the heat building up at my cunt. I swayed slightly on his pelvis, Sukuna’s grip on my lower back tightened, keeping me upright. My mouth parted in shock, the pleasure continuing to build up in my core. I found myself grinding against his fingers, desperately trying to find release.

Sukuna clicked his tongue, a breathless chuckle snapping me back to reality.

“Feels good doesn’t it? You eager little girl.”

His hand retracted from my clit, leaving me gasping at the loss of friction. His hands meet at my waist, lifting me off his lap and down onto my back. I started to shift away from him, only to freeze once he shot me a sharp glare. My eyes drop down at his erection, poking through the material of his robes. A darker stain found right above his pelvis, the wetness soaking through.

Sukuna’s eyes followed mine, noticing the stain as well, his lips carving up to a teasing smile, just like he always adorned when he was toying with me. “Looks like you’re enjoying yourself, slut .” A flash of heat flickered across my features from his words.

His hands tore at the fabric of his robes, before discarding it to the side. His cock sprung free, his hand trailing along the shaft, giving a few pumps as he watched me, his red orbs glaring at me like I was his possession. Unable to look him directly in the eyes, I let them roam over his body. Just like his face, black markings covered his arms, shoulders, and stomach. He was equally beautiful and cruel.

“You should see how you look right now. I just love that look on your face.” Sukuna crooned, falling onto his elbows, caging me beneath him. He was thoroughly enjoying the reactions he was getting from me, knowing that I was completely at his mercy.

“No. Please. Just-”

Sukuna’s hands gripped me by my hips, pulling me towards him. The fabric of my skirt bunched up at my waist, exposing myself completely to his hungry gaze. He adjusted himself above me, his hand stroking his cock, slowly lowering himself towards my pussy. My eyes watched in shock, the sheer size of it enough to make my eyes grow wide.

“Like what you see, hm?” He asked.

I couldn’t form a single coherent thought, my mind raced as Sukuna’s fingers suddenly cupped my cunt, his middle finger slamming into my core before I could even realize. My head snapped back and my waist lurched forward, bucking into the feeling. My teeth ground down against each other, so tightly that I thought I would shatter them.

“You can pretend that you don’t want this, but you’re so fucking wet for me. Who knew you’d be such a little slut?” Sukuna’s finger pumped faster, making it harder to contain the sounds that threatened to escape my mouth.

The composure that I tried to hold crumbled to pieces when I could no longer stop the sounds from escaping. My eyes screwed shut when I let out a moan, adding even more hatred I had for my reacting body.

“What a pathetic little slut. Do you get off knowing you can’t stop me?” Sukuna’s voice was condescending, his body leering down closer to me. “Does it make you wet to feel so helpless?” He pressed on.

His free hand moved to cup the side of my cheek, thumb toying with the bottom of my lip. Acting on instinct, I quickly jerked my head down, catching his thumb between my canines and biting down as hard as I could.

Sukuna barely even flinched when the skin of his thumb broke, blood filling up my mouth. His hand pulled away from my mouth, leaving the warmth with a plop. His blood dripped down the sides of my mouth, slipping down into my hair. I watched as his eyes slowly drifted down to meet my gaze. I felt his finger jerk up inside me, stabbing into the soft flesh of my walls. The pain erupted before I could speak, my words turning into a shrill scream.

“You little bitch. I knew you’d be so much fun.” He laughed, ending it off with a sigh. He examined his thumb, which had already healed. My teeth gritted together, the taste of his blood still lingering on my tongue. He pulled his finger from me after a few agonizing moments, blood mixed with my arousal, dripping down as I anxiously watched him.

Despite the pain, the loss of contact made my body twitch.

Sukuna’s hand wrapped itself around my throat, tightening enough to make my mouth hang open in surprise. My eyes bulged, hands immediately shooting up to grasp him. His other hand grabbed onto his cock, running it along my slit, coating himself in my wetness. My mouth hung open, closing every few seconds to swallow the saliva that pooled up. I gripped onto his hand, trying to pry his fingers off.

“How precious.” He mocked my weak attempts to fight him off.

The excruciating feeling of my muscles constricting took my focus, my core burning at the sudden intrusion. He entered me with a groan, eyes rolling back as he dropped down onto me. My walls clenched, the searing pain almost unbearable, even with the slick of my pussy. He barely gave me time to adjust before he snapped his hips into mine, the tip of his cock hitting my cervix.

“Sukuna-” I managed to croak, tapping at his hand. The lack of oxygen was starting to get to me, my vision began to gray and my eyes fluttered.

His grip on my neck loosened, unexpectedly. Unfortunately, I felt his pace pick up. He pulled away and then slammed back into me, hitting my cervix once again. This time, I screamed, unable to hold it back.

“What’s wrong? Can’t handle my cock?” He chuckled, his face returning to my line of vision. His red eyes gleamed with amusement as he bared his canines at me. “That’s too bad…” His head dipped closer, and for a moment I thought he was going to kiss me. Instead, the flat of his tongue pressed against my lips, lapping up the drying blood.

My head twisted to the side and I made a sound that came out like a groan and a moan. His tongue leaves a wet trail of saliva across my face, mixing with the blood. I feel his hand leave my throat, gripping hard at my waist instead.

The thick muscle continued pounding into me. My muscles strained, forcing me to try and relax myself. If I was relaxed, it would hurt less, right? I breathed in deeply, demanding my body to release the tension that was building up. The sound of skin on skin filled the air, making it even harder to control my anxiety.

“You’re not giving up already, are you?” He taunts in between groans.

My lips pressed into a thin line, hiding the sounds that sat in the back of my raw throat. I felt the angle of his torso change, spreading my legs open even more, hitting at an angle I didn’t even know was possible.

“Sukuna, please.” I whimpered, my body jerking from his harsh movements. “It’s too much.” His hips planted against mine, grinding down hard.

“I want to hear you beg first, slut. Maybe then I’ll let you cum, hm? How does that sound?” His voice dripped with malice. His nails dug into my side, enough to bruise but not draw blood.

My frantic eyes met with his half lidded ones, watching me to see what I would do. I opened my mouth to respond, but my words were replaced with another cry as he slammed back into that same spot. My hands slapped down against him, hitting him with every ounce of strength that I had left, which did nothing to him, his only response was a small laugh.

“Please! Please! Sl-slow it down.” I mewled beneath him, squirming in his grip.

My eyes focused hard on his, which twitched with knowing. “I want to hear you say it.”

I shook my head, another snap of his hips causing my back to lurch. The pain exploded and I sobbed. I felt myself clench around him, trying to push him out in any way that I could. My attempts of forcing him out were fruitless, he only seemed to enjoy it even more. I tried so hard to keep my composure, but it began to dwindle with each thrust. The pain was building up faster than my body could handle.

I bit hard on my tongue, stopping the whimpers.

“Did you say something?” He ridiculed me.

His arm hooked under my thigh, raising it up slightly. At this angle, he was even deeper than I ever thought he could go. It hurt so much. Even more than before. His intent was to force me to beg. He wanted me to have no choice but to submit. It was either beg or be split in half.

“M-ake me-” I stuttered, shaking my head. “Make me cum, please.” I begged, hating the way the words sounded on my tongue. As soon as they left my mouth, I wished that I could take them back. The feeling of humiliation took over, flushing my face from any color.

He dropped my thigh at my words.

Sukuna chuckled, his hand moving down to my clit, but not before he leaned back, spitting onto it. I jumped when his saliva hit my clit, the feeling was enough to make me moan.

“Good girl.” He coos, lessening the force of his thrusts and circling his thumb around my clit. The pain subsided, instead, the warmth flooded back into my core, leaving me throbbing and wiggling in his hold.

“Such a brave little sorcerer you are. Taking my cock so well. So well .” His words sent another jolt down to my pussy, clenching down on his cock hard. The sounds of wet skin hitting against each other drifted to my ears, red burning at my cheeks.

“I’m going to ruin you.” His words rang heavy in my ears, his thumb moving quicker, getting me to where I needed to be. My eyes rolled back and I moved my hands to his shoulders, clawing at the tough skin. I grinded my hips down onto his fingers, desperately chasing my own release. The pressure exploding, nothing but a sharp gasp leaving my mouth as my head tilted back. My vision sways as my pussy clenches around him, my nails digging into his skin deeper.

“Cumming already? Desperate little slut. Putting up such a fight for nothing.” He patronized.

My head drops to the side, his words falling on deaf ears. Sukuna’s hands moving back up to my waist, tugging me in closer. I feel his cock throb inside me, the pleasure turning quickly into a feeling of overstimulation as he continues to pound into me.

“No. That’s not true.” I gritted.

“It’s not? You’re not just another dirty slut? Cumming for a fucking curse?”

His words stung deep, erasing every thought that I had inside my brain within seconds. My face burned bright with a blush, lips pressing into a thin line. My teeth bit down onto my lip when I felt him thrust again, this time not as deep and not as hard.

“You’re such a mess. If only Megumi could see you now, cumming all over me, and wailing beneath me. I bet he’s thought of you like this.” Sukuna looked down at me, another smirk appearing on his face as he taunted me, eyes widened and sadistic.

I turned my head away from his gaze, only to feel his hand dig into my cheeks, pulling his head back towards me. My lips pursed together, a sly look appearing on his face. “Oh no. You’re going to watch me, or I’ll dig your eyes out of that pretty little head of yours.” His voice was demanding.

Everything in my body hurts. My back dug painfully into the rough and uneven ground beneath me, jabbing into sensitive spots whenever I shifted. My muscles began to grow tired, fatigued from the fight and the strain it was being put under. My arms slipped from his shoulders, pressing blindly and weakly against his abdomen. The high from my orgasm was beginning to wear off, the pain was setting back in.

My eyes remained focused on his, too afraid that he would make word on his threat of tearing my eyes out of my head. I felt another rush of humiliation when his words were processed.

Sukuna flipped me round, bending me over the pedestal again. My bare stomach and breasts pressed up against the cool surface. It felt good against my sticky skin, cooling my body down slightly. His cock left me for a moment before he lined back up, his hips slamming against my ass. I squealed at the change of position, taken aback by the swift movement and sudden feeling of fullness.

“I’m not finished with you yet.” His voice growled from above me, the flat of his palm finding my lower back again, pressing me further into the smooth stone. My hand shifted back to meet his when the pressure was building too much on my stomach, feeling like he was trying to push me into the stone.

He grabbed onto my wrist and pinned it against my back, leaving my other hand to support myself as he drilled into me.

“You’re so fucking tight. Ah-” My knees scraped against the floor, back dipping down.

With each movement, my arm went further and further up my back, the burn in my shoulder making me scream out. My cheek was pressed uncomfortably against the stone, tears blurring my vision as I stared into the abis.

Another snap of his hips caused me to bite my lip, holding back the cries that I knew he would feed off of. My muscles were stretched to their max, and I could only pray that he would finish already. I prayed for death.

I craned my neck slightly, watching as Sukuna kept his gaze on my ass. I started to feel light headed, whether it be from the strain that was being put on my body, or something else, I felt like I was going to pass out. Sukuna barely let up, using his other hand to support my slumped form.

“S-sukuna. I-”

His nails dug into my skin. “Don’t pass out on me yet. I have no intentions on fucking a corpse, that would be boring.”

I whimpered, squeezing my eyes shut as he continued fucking me. His pace did not let up, bruising my cervix with each thrust. The feeling of his fingers back on my clit made me snap back into reality, my hips squirming against his fingers, desperately trying to find some pleasure to relieve the pain.

“That’s it.” He grunted, his movements growing stronger with need, the need to find his own pleasure.

“Oh, god.” I moaned, back bowing down to get closer to him.

Sukuna snickered, his fingers picking up the pace at my body's response to him. He released the grip on my arm, seeing that I was no longer fighting back. Instead, I felt both his hands plant on my waist, fucking me even harder. With this angle, I could feel every inch of his cock inside me, filling me up completely.

“So needy. Are you going to cum again for me?” His words sent me over the edge, my orgasm hitting even harder than the first one. My body clenched and my eyes rolled back, mouth hanging open in pleasure. Sukuna gripped me harder, his movements beginning to slow as I felt the hot rush of his own orgasm filling me up. The deep groan of his own release deepened the feeling of my orgasm, fueling it even more.

I remained still against the pedestal when he pulled out of me, my body unable to move from exhaustion. The muscles in my body were strained and sore, even breathing was starting to hurt. My eyes fluttered closed, slowly slipping down to the ground beneath me. I could faintly hear Sukuna laughing behind me, shuffling for his robes.

I barely heard him step near me until my eyes opened, his form crouched beside me. It took every ounce of strength in me to narrow my eyes at him, my jaw clenching down.

“Ah, don’t give me that look. It makes me want to fuck you again.” He purred, his hand reaching out to wipe away a strand of hair. “Don’t you want to see your friend again?”

My eyes snapped open at his words. “Itadori?”

Sukuna tutted, his head turning to focus beneath us. I slowly followed his gaze, noticing a small figure in the distance, closing in on us. My reddened eyes strained in the general direction, narrowing in focus. That raven coloured hair made my heart jump, followed by my body launching towards his direction. I no longer cared about the pain in my body, it slowly turned into numbness when I saw him.

“Megumi!” I wailed as I got up to my feet, pushing away from Sukuna.

Sukuna caught me before I could get away from him. “Ah, ah, ah.” His chest rubbed against my back. I squirmed once again in his hold, watching as Megumi stood rigid a few feet in front of us. His fists were clenched in a tight white grip, his eyes set hard as he scanned over us.

“You bastard.” Megumi’s voice was rough.

Sukuna ignored him, instead he leaned beside my ear. “I’ll be seeing you again.”

He gave me a light shove towards my friend. My feet stumbled, barely able to support the weight of my body. I took shaky steps towards Megumi, my hands fumbling to pull down my skirt. My face burned with humiliation as I crashed into his arms. The warmth of his body was comforting, but not enough to stop my shaking. He tried to cover me with the best of his abilities, his grip was tight around my waist.

“I’m going to kill you.” Megumi hissed.

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marvelmusing · 1 year ago

Text

Starlight, Star Bright

Pairing: Darklina x Fem!Star Summoner!Reader

Summary: The arrival of the sun summoner - your darling Alina - changes everything for you and Aleksander.

Warnings [18+]: canon level violence and death, mentions of death, nightmares, use of sleeping tonics, anxiety, mentions of Luda x Reader x Aleksander, angst, smut, oral (fem receiving), fingering, mentions of masturbation, smidge of corruption/innocence kink, Alina had a strict and conservative upbringing

My Masterlist

Alina’s concentration face is rather adorable. Dark brows furrowed together, pink lips parted, and a tiny peek of her tongue can be seen at the corner of her mouth. It hadn’t been intentional - watching her like this. But the library at the Little Palace is one of your favourite places to hide from your duties and seeing her here feels like an unexpected treat.

Her concentration dissolves into frustration, plush lips pressing into a firm line, then emotion seems to overwhelm her. A redness has crept over her throat which bobs rapidly and her dark eyes blink in an embarrassed flurry. When you realise she’s holding back tears, you move towards her without thinking.

It’s only once you spot the mountain of books surrounding her, piled up over the desk in heaps, that you begin to suspect what has caused her distress.

“Good evening, Miss Starkov,” you say softly.

She looks up at you hurriedly and the action has tears filling her waterline which she quickly attempts blink away. A piece of your heart snaps away, quivering in your chest, aching at the thought of seeing tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Good evening, Lieutenant.”

“Shu isn’t the easiest language to learn, but once you understand the basics the rest will follow.”

A bright blush spreads over her cheeks and her gaze lowers to the open book in front of her. When you see her chin wobble slightly, your stomach twists, and you add,

“Can I offer you a recommendation?”

She looks up at you again, nodding slowly.

Moving over towards a nearby shelf, you search for a particular book, pulling it carefully from its place and settling it down in Alina’s lap.

“It’s a book of fables,” you explain quietly. She tilts her head, eyeing the cover. “It might seem a little childish, but I find it to be one of the best ways to introduce someone to a new language.”

She begins to turn the pages with infinite care, her delicate fingers tracing over the illustrations inside.

“Would-”

Her words falter.

“Yes?”

She shakes her head, a pretty blush warming her cheeks.

“No. It’s silly.”

“Alina-” Her eyes snap up to yours at the sound of her name from your lips and your own voice falters. “May I call you Alina?” She nods and you smile softly. “I want you to feel at home here, in the Little Palace. There’s nothing you can’t ask of me.”

From what you’ve heard from her tutors, Alina has been struggling with Grisha theory, alongside her physical training. Judging by the dark circles under her eyes and the way she pushes her food around her plate at dinner every night, she hasn’t been able to summon very well either.

Anything you can do to make her feel better, you vow to do it. Particular memories have concerns stirring in your stomach. For centuries, you had been by Aleksander’s side, masquerading as the Darkling’s otkazat’sya wife.

It was only when Aleksander presented his newest alias at court, General Kirigan, that you revealed your power to the world - Ravka’s only star summoner. The sudden pressure you felt to help your country, alongside the expectations of your fellow Grisha, had made you almost ill with worry. Everyone had hoped your light would have been able to destroy the Fold.

Alina squares her shoulders a little, seemingly drawing some confidence from your encouragement.

“Would you read it to me?” she asks.

There’s a small pause as you look at her, your expression softening at the sight of her looking so flustered.

“I’d love to.”

She smiles and the sight has the breath halting in your lungs. She shuffles back slightly as you sit down beside her, your fingers brushing against her clothed knee as you take the book from her lap.

“Each of the stories are only a handful of pages in length. I could read them in Shu first, then again in Ravkan - if you would like that?”

Her eyes widen, something hopeful glimmering in their dark depths.

“You don’t mind?” she asks shyly. You shake your head.

“Not at all.”

»»---------------------►

Reading to Alina soon becomes one of your favourite things in the world - a guilty pleasure of sorts to escape from the stress of helping Aleksander run the Second Army.

One night, she comes to your door with the book of Shu fables in her arms tucked against her chest.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she admits in a hoarse whisper and you wonder whether she has nightmares too. Instantly you take her hand, pulling her gently into your bedroom.

She settles at the head of your bed, plush pillows and velvet cushions bundled up around the two of you. With a flick of your fingers, you summon enough light to read by. Alina is entranced by your starlight, eyes wide as she stares up at the miniature constellations swirling above your heads.

As you read stories aloud in her mother’s language, Alina slowly inches her head down onto your lap so that she can watch the tiny stars shining down on you both. This provides you with the perfect opportunity to thread your fingers lightly through her hair. At your request, Genya has been taking care of Alina and her hair is much softer and fuller than when she first arrived at the Little Palace.

The darkness of her eyes offers a perfect reflection of your stars and every time you risk a glance at her you’re captivated by the sight. Some of the tension slips away from her body and a low, sleepy sigh falls from her lips. Her eyes flutter closed.

»»---------------------►

It isn’t surprising that the sun summoner loves to sit in the sunlight. After all, even before you could summon, you’ve always adored a starry night sky. But seeing Alina soak up the sun, her head tilted back, eyes closed, has your steps faltering as you watch her. She’s so beautiful like this, waiting for you at the foot of an oak tree in the grounds.

Aleksander is nearby, tending to the horses used by the two of them on their morning ride. Alina is sitting on his kefta, using it as a blanket to shield her legs from the cool dew of the grass beneath her.

When she notices your presence, a luminous smile brightens up her features. It isn’t long before the two of you have settled into your familiar rhythm. Alina lies down with her head in your lap whilst you read to her. The story you’ve selected for today is an unacknowledged favourite of Alina’s.

Once you’ve finished the story, you take a moment to admire Alina. Her eyes remain closed, lashes fanned over her cheekbones. There’s a sun kissed glow over her cheeks, her skin tone revitalised by her time in the sun - and her increase in summoning.

When her eyes open slowly, she blinks up at you, though you don’t shy away from her gaze. She smiles softly, sitting up slowly to face you.

“Can I ask you something?” she asks quietly, tucking a stray hair back from her face as the breeze drags at her dark locks.

Tilting your head aside, you study the nervous press of her lips and the way her eyes shift over the grass, avoiding your gaze. Then you nod slowly.

“In the story,” she begins, head inclined towards the book lying open in your lap. “The princess and the fairy… they get married.”

A subtle frown creases at your brows before you nod again.

“They… I’m not getting the translation wrong, am I? They’re both girls.”

“Yes, Alya. They’re both girls.”

“And that’s allowed?”

“I’m sure a few more conservative members of the nobility might have something to say about it, but yes, it’s allowed.”

Alina seems deep in thought, staring at a particular leaf as it is carried away by the breeze.

“Nadia flirts with girls,” she states.

“She does,” you agree.

“Sometimes, when I was in the First Army, someone would make a joke about two girls tumbling each other…” Her voice trails off slightly, her cheeks glowing a rosy pink with embarrassment as she adds, “But I didn’t know… girls actually do that with each other.”

You nod with a small smile, a knowing glimmer in your eyes.

“They do.”

The pink on her cheeks burns to a deep red, her mouth open with a question poised on her tongue. She’s adorable, innocent and flustered and curious. The sound of long grass rustling draws your attention over to Aleksander, who seems to be making his way towards you and Alina.

“Enjoying yourselves?” he asks with a tender smile, the affection in his gaze is obvious to you after years of learning to decipher his emotions.

When you glance back at Alina, there’s a spark of alarm in her eyes, widened as she looks almost pleadingly at you.

“I was just telling Alina about the trail around the lake,” you inform Aleksander. There’s a questioning tilt to his head, observing your lie instantly. Nevertheless, he nods and turns his attention onto her.

“Perhaps we could take that route on our next ride around the grounds.”

She smiles softly, shooting you a grateful look before she glances at Aleksander. Her smile widens when their eyes meet and she nods bashfully.

“I’d like that.”

»»---------------------►

“Healer! Is there a healer here!?”

Aleksander’s voice is hoarse, a guttural cry for help that has you stumbling to your feet, hurrying through the makeshift rooms of the Grisha sanctuary. Voices and the sound of frantic movement aid you in your search for him, your heart pounding in your chest as fright fills you.

“The best we have is a tailor,” someone says. “We were waiting for Luda.”

At the mention of your other lover’s name, the tidemaker’s words falter and you rush quickly towards them. Luda is lying limply in Aleksander’s arms, blood staining her clothing. He places her on a cot, smoothing her hair back once she’s settled.

“Luda,” you cry. “No.”

At the sound of your voice, Aleksander stands back, attempting to grasp your arm as you approach - to shield you from seeing her state. His hold is weak and you slip by him easily, sinking yourself onto the bed beside her.

Luda’s eyes flutter, the pain limiting her awareness, though she manages to hold your hand weakly. There’s a sickening twist in your stomach when you see the wound, blood flowing at a frightening speed. Tears fill your eyes as you smile softly at her, trying your hardest to be brave for her.

There are no other healers in the sanctuary. Even if you could staunch the bleeding, she has already lost too much blood and the damage looks too deep for a tailor to fix.

“It isn’t bad, milaya,” you assure her. “You just need some rest.”

Leaning forward, you press a gentle kiss to her forehead, cool to the touch yet damp with perspiration. Hovering over her, you wait for the sound of her next breath. It doesn’t come.

A broken cry catches in your throat, the beginning of a sob, as you sink onto the cold stone floor beside the cot. Hot tears spill over your cheeks, dripping down onto your lap as you curl in on yourself, shoulders shaking with the weight of your anguish.

The two of you had grown up in the same village. She had been the first person to see your starlight. Your first kiss. She’s the one who always soothes your heartbeat when it quickens with anxiety.

Luda had been the one to nudge you towards the mysterious Darkling, stating with flushed cheeks that she would not mind sharing you with such a handsome man. Innocently, you had laughed and shaken your head at her, completely unaware of Aleksander’s eyes on you both.

She had been so determined to gain an amplifier, to stay with you and Aleksander for as long as she could. Deep down, you know some part of her had craved a forever with you both. To see that slip away so quickly has your throat closing up with emotion.

“Just mortal,” Aleksander murmurs quietly.

Lifting your head, you manage to meet his gaze. He looks just as broken as you feel, his eyes filled with a grief so tangible you want to grasp hold of it, take it by the throat and throttle it. A wounded cry escapes you as Aleksander curls his hand around your wrist and you begin to sob in earnest.

Aleksander wakes you, fingers curling firmly around your wrists when you begin to struggle in his arms, still in the throes of your anxious slumber. When you realise where you are, and who is holding you, your body slumps defeatedly against him.

Aleksander lets you cry, allowing your grief to course through your body as you sob. He keeps you close, stroking a hand down your side as he murmurs gentle reminders to you - to continue breathing through your tears and that he’s here for you.

When your sobs relent, you manage to sit up beside him, the two of you leaning against the headboard.

“I’m sorry for waking you,” you sniffle. He retrieves a handkerchief for you, smoothing the soft cotton over your damp cheeks.

“Don’t be.” He pauses, eyeing your features with concern before he asks softly, “Luda?”

Closing your eyes, your expression crumples as you nod.

“First love always leaves it’s scars,” he murmurs, tracing his finger over the jagged skin tissue that curls over the slope of your shoulder - from the tip of your shoulder blade through your collarbone. The scar from the volcra, when you had escaped the Fold during its creation.

There’s a small scar at the corner of Aleksander’s eyebrow, one that you reach for now. He had gained it when he was thirteen, and he still rubs at the spot when he’s been working too long. There’s another scar, from the same incident, that runs over the length of his calf.

“Let me fetch you a sleeping draught.”

“Aleksander, I don’t need-”

“You look tired, my love.”

The concern in his voice has your hand lowering to your lap, your gaze following it as you remark quietly,

“You know I don’t like taking tonics.”

He nods. Aleksander rarely suggests such a solution, since the sleeping draughts put you in an immobilised state, where your limbs become too heavy to move. He knows you hate the lack of control, and the alarming decrease in your awareness.

“I know. But your nerves are overwrought, and a deep dreamless sleep will fix that.” He strokes your cheek gently. “I will watch over you, I promise. We’re safe. No one will hurt us here.”

A warm tear spills down your cheek, which he brushes away tenderly with the pad of his thumb. Breathing in shakily, you nod in consent. As Aleksander leaves the bed, the mattress dips and you bite back a whimper at the loss of his warm presence.

Leaning your head back against the headboard, you allow your heavy eyes to flutter closed as the sound of pouring liquid reaches your ears. Metal clinks lightly against porcelain as he stirs the sleeping draught for you.

He stokes the fire, encouraging a little more warmth into the room, before scooping up some burning coals to fill the warming pan.

With a tender smile at you, he lifts the covers at the foot of the bed, slotting the pan between the sheets to keep you cosy. Affection buzzes in your chest, an adoring smile quirking at your lips as you watch him.

He rounds the bed, sitting down by your side with a tea cup in his hands which he holds out for you to drink from.

“A few sips will suffice,” he says in a low voice.

Holding his gaze, you swallow down a small mouthful of the bitter liquid. He smiles softly when he sees your nose wrinkle at the taste. Aleksander hooks a finger under your chin, keeping your mouth close to the lip of the cup.

“Just a little more, my love.”

Somewhat reluctantly, you drink another mouthful and Aleksander casts the cup aside.

He settles you in his lap, tucking you against his chest as the draught begins to take effect. A haze clouds over your thoughts, filling your body with a limp heaviness. When you whimper quietly, Aleksander strokes a hand down your spine, pressing a reassuring kiss to your forehead as he hushes you. He continues murmuring comforting words to you.

As your eyelids flutter, your breathing shifting into something more heavy and rhythmic, Aleksander pulls the two of you down under the covers.

»»---------------------►

“Aleksander!” you hiss quietly. He slows his pace slightly, turning back to reach for your hand. “I think you’re forgetting I can’t see in the dark as well as you can.”

“Then summon some light.”

“What if someone sees?”

“No one is awake at this hour.”

Sighing, you summon a low twinkle of starlight, faint galaxies billowing like wisps of smoke around your ankles to light your way. Aided by your stars, you follow Aleksander through the darkened corridors of the Little Palace. He stops at a familiar room, releasing your hand as he turns to look at you.

Quietly, you knock against Alina’s door.

There’s a beat of silence and you both strain your ears, listening for any sound of movement from within her room. Slowly, Alina seems to rouse herself from her bed, moving towards the door. Her eyes widen as she looks at you and Aleksander, a frown creasing at the space between her brows.

“Um, hello?”

“I know you were upset that you couldn’t join your friends at the banya,” you say in a low voice.

Her gaze lowers, her feet shifting in her slippers as a subconscious pout puckers at her lips.

“It’s fine,” she says quietly. “I know you were both just concerned about my safety.”

Despite the guilt stirring in your stomach at the thought of Alina missing out on time with her friends, the smile growing on your face is hard to suppress as you consider the idea you’re about to propose to her.

“Well, we were thinking…” you trail off, looking expectantly at Aleksander. He smiles indulgently.

“That there is no one safer for you to be with than us.” Her eyes widen with excitement at Aleksander’s words and you add,

“It’s a warm night and the water at the lake will be the perfect temperature for a swim.”

“You mean…” Her smile is infectious and you’re smiling too as you ask her,

“Where’s your bathing dress?”

She frowns.

“My what?”

“Bathing dress. Genya told me you have one.”

She glances back into her room, eyes darting between her cabinet, vanity table, and her wardrobe.

“Would you like me to help you find it?” you ask. She nods.

It doesn’t take you long to locate the garment, folded carefully in the bottom drawer of the cabinet beside the window. Aleksander sits at her vanity table and you perch yourself on the end of the bed whilst Alina changes behind the folding screen in the corner of her room.

She steps out rather shyly, fidgeting with the hem of the dress while you and Aleksander stare, captivated by her.

The skirt of Alina’s bathing dress stops mid thigh and the neckline dips enough for you to catch a glimpse of her cleavage despite the modest capped sleeves which cover her shoulders. The fabric hugs her body comfortably, though you’re certain once the water has soaked through the material it will cling sinfully to her every curve.

Her cheeks are flushed, her gaze lowered to avoid your gaze as her fingers graze over the hemline of the dress, fingers playing nervously with the fabric. When she finally finds the courage to meet Aleksander’s eyes - then your own - her blush deepens.

Saving her from further embarrassment, you extend a hand out towards her which she takes instantly. A smile spreads over your features as her fingers curl around yours.

“Let’s go for a swim.”

»»---------------------►

Alina’s head lifts the moment she hears her door open. The smile that spreads over her features has your stomach flipping and she lowers her pen to give you her full attention from where she’s sitting at her vanity table.

“Good evening, Alina.”

Her smile brightens as she wraps her bath robe tighter around her body.

“Good evening.”

There’s ink smudges on her fingertips and your eyes peek around her to examine the pieces of parchment strewn over the table. When she catches your gaze, you lift a brow questioningly.

“Drawing?”

She shakes her head.

“I was just writing another letter for Mal.”

Sadness creeps into her expression and guilt stirs in your stomach.

“Alina-”

At the sound of her name on your lips, she lifts her head, eyes scouring over your face and your words fade as you lose your courage. But Alina deserves the truth.

“All letters that leave the Little Palace are read by either myself or Aleksander, to ensure that no important information falls into the wrong hands.”

She stiffens slightly, embarrassment touching her features.

“You mean you’ve read my letters to Mal?”

Guilt settles in your stomach as you shake your head.

“No.” She frowns, then you pull out a bundle of letters from the pocket of your kefta. “They haven’t been sent.”

She remains still, eyes fixed on the stack in your hand.

“I haven’t opened them. I wanted to tell you that Aleksander and I check letters so that you wouldn’t be uncomfortable. I was going to tell you… but the days went by and I just kept forgetting.”

Every word is the truth. Though it isn’t the whole truth. In all honesty, your reluctance to tell her about the letters is most likely an attempt at keeping her for yourself. Tears glimmer in her eyes and it sickens you that your selfishness is the reason for her distress. She shifts away from you and there’s a physical pain in your chest.

“I told you he hadn’t written back,” she says quietly, a quiver in her voice as she stares down at the envelopes. “You said he would soon. You told me there had been problems with the mail carriers. You lied to me.”

“Alina-”

She shakes her head, stepping away again, and you force your features to harden, shoving the hurt in your chest deep down. It twists inside you, making you step towards her and place the letters down on her table.

“I thought I should give these back to you. I’m certain you will choose your words more carefully, now that you know Aleksander and I will read every word that you write.”

It’s cruel, throwing the feelings you know she has for you and Aleksander in her face. Her cheeks flush red, anger and embarrassment flashing over her features as she looks away from you. The beginning of tears glisten in the corner of her eyes and you turn towards the door before you can see them fall.

»»---------------------►

A familiar presence lingers at the open doorway to your bedroom as you continue folding your trousers up, placing them in your trunk for the third time this morning.

“Sasha, would you pass me the…”

As you turn, your words are halted by the sight of Alina hesitating at the threshold of your room. She hasn’t spoken to you since that night in her rooms, turning away when she sees you in the grounds and keeping her gaze lowered when she passes you in the corridors.

“Alina.”

“You’re leaving.”

You nod.

“I’m going to oversee the new campaign on the Fjerdan frontlines.”

Aleksander had only casually suggested it but you had leapt at the opportunity, believing you need some fresh air and a chance to use your power productively.

There’s a pause as Alina steps towards you, almost cautiously. Her gaze is lowered, searching over your belongings that have been strewn across your bed.

“Can I write to you?” she asks.

There’s a twinge of guilt in your chest at the mention of letters, though the softness of Alina’s features express no ill will in regards to her unsent letters to Mal.

“Of course. I can’t promise my replies will be detailed or lengthy, but I would love to hear from you, Alina.”

She fidgets with her fingers, nails picking at her cuticles.

“How long will you be gone for?”

“I plan to return just before the Winter Fete.”

Her eyes widen.

“That long?”

“It’s only a few months. I’ll be back before you know it.”

»»---------------------►

The problem with being the person who censors letters within the Second Army is that you find it all too easy to remove what has been written on the page.

»»---------------------►

Alina,

I should have told you about the letters. I know this is a cowardly way to apologise, but seeing so many casualties today - knowing there will be more tomorrow - has made me reflective as it always does.

Please forgive me. I don’t want to lose you.

»»---------------------►

Moi Sashenka,

My official report on the front has been sent and hopefully you will have received it by the time this letter reaches you.

Fjerda is as cold as it always is and I hate being so far from you. Too many times I find myself longing for your advice or your embrace. I miss you, Sasha.

I miss Alina too. How is Alina? I hope her lessons have improved and that she’s feeling more settled. Could you remind her that she can write to me? I’m afraid I’ve ruined us.

Take care, as always

Forever yours

»»---------------------►

One particular letter you set alight with your starlight, watching the paper crumble as the flames remove your words from existence. That night you sleep curled in on yourself, old grief burrowing it’s way into your chest as you remember a girl with hopeful eyes the same colour as the sky.

She slips into your dreams, gentle hands holding you. The bed is warm, soft sheets caressing your naked bodies. Aleksander’s touch is familiar, like being welcomed home. He kisses you. She kisses you. A featherlight brush of her lips, before you’re sinking a hand into her hair to deepen the kiss with a fierce longing to keep her like this. It feels so real.

The tears have scarcely dried over your cheeks as you wake. The sounds of your army rousing itself from slumber draws you out of your bittersweet state, grounding you as you stare up at the cloth ceiling of your tent.

»»---------------------►

Aleksander folds his arms over his chest, drawing his bath robe tighter around his body as he looks over the map on his table. A chill brushes over his skin when his eyes land on the collection of figures placed by the Fjerdan border. Immediately his thoughts fall onto you.

The two of you aren’t often parted from each other; you’ve been one another’s constant companion for the last few centuries and he feels the temporary loss of you in his chest.

It appears he isn’t the only one who feels your absence. He turns at the sight of movement in the corner of his eye, shoulders tensing as the shadows stir at his subconscious command. They dissolve the moment his gaze falls onto her face.

“Alina.”

She tucks her hair back shyly.

“Am I disturbing you?”

He shakes his head.

“Not at all. Come in, please.”

He watches Alina’s eyes bounce over the contents of his table and can’t help but notice that she also lingers on the spot where your camp is. As she approaches him, she keeps her gaze lowered, looking over the pages in front of him.

Then she spies your letters.

“Is this from-”

Aleksander says your name softly, nodding as his fingers trace affectionately over the loops of your handwriting. His eyes skim over the words, reading between the lines of your ink in a manner only he can.

“She misses you.”

“I miss her too,” she admits in a whisper.

He gestures for her to sit in the armchair by the fire which she does, quietly tucking her knees beneath herself, bundling the fabric of her night robe closer around her body. Aleksander watches her, leaning back against the war table, his palms splayed over maps and papers.

He looks at her for a long moment, admiring her features as the firelight dances over them. There’s a contemplative furrow to his brows as he thinks of a promise he made to you before you left for the frontlines.

“Alina, I have something to tell you but I want you to make me a promise first.”

She eyes him somewhat warily. In your absence, the two of them have grown considerably closer, but you had been the one to coax Alina out of her shell.

“What’s the promise?” she asks.

“That you won’t leave.”

Her expression softens.

“Aleksander-”

“I want you to give me your word, that you will listen to everything I have to say tonight. Afterwards, if you would like to leave I will provide you with whatever resources I can to ensure you a safe journey.”

She’s frighteningly still, wide eyed like a rabbit weighing up the threat of a potential predator. He watches her swallow, steeling herself before she nods curtly in agreement. The knot in his chest begins to loosen slightly, though he dreads her reaction to what he’s about to tell her. He can only hope that you are right.

»»---------------------►

Dear Alina,

I know winter has already arrived for you in the capital. Whenever I begin to fear that frostbite has taken my toes, I picture you curled up by the fire with Aleksander. Home has never felt further from me, even as the date of my return inches closer.

I hope you will be happy to see me. I long for you. The silence has been torture.

I have enclosed another letter, which I hope you might be able to pass along to Aleksander. There has been little time to write these days and ink is scarce. Give him my love. I hope you have a happy Yuletide.

»»---------------------►

Sasha,

There is a Yuletide gift for you underneath your bed. Alina’s gift is under my bed. Kiss her under the mistletoe for me.

All my love

»»---------------------►

My dearest Alya,

Fjerda is cold and I miss your warmth.

I hope that I reach you before this letter does. We begin our return to Os Alta today. I’m coming home.

»»---------------------►

As soon as you arrive back at the Little Palace, you find yourself drawn to Aleksander’s room, abandoning your trunk in your bedroom and seeking solace in the war room. The moment you set your eyes on him, the months-long tension leaves your shoulders and you stumble into his open arms.

Aleksander doesn’t have an opportunity to speak, as you grasp hold of his hair and drag his mouth down to yours. As soon as your lips meet, the leftover strain in your body and mind melts. The sigh that leaves you is fuelled by relief.

“Sasha,” you whine against his lips, unable to articulate anything else.

His hands cup your face, mouth moving eagerly against your own. After months of not being able to see one another, without touching one another, you’re both desperate.

“I forbid you from leaving the Little Palace for the foreseeable future,” he says, an edge of command in his tone.

“Yes, moi soverenyi,” you breathe against his lips.

A growl catches in the back of his throat and you squeeze your thighs together at the sound as white hot arousal coils in your stomach. He tugs you closer, hooking his hands beneath your legs to hoist you up into his arms. His next words are breathless, interrupted by your hurried kisses as he carries you into the bedroom.

“If it weren’t for the damned fete tomorrow, I would forbid you from leaving this bed.”

His mouth trails down your body, pressing hot kisses over your skin. A simmering tingle of pleasure shudders down your spine with each firm brush of his lips or stroke of his tongue. Heat creeps over your cheeks, as you realise your moans are getting louder and more desperate.

Once his mouth finally reaches your cunt, a sharp yelp falls from your lips. Holding onto his hair always encourages Aleksander, so your attempts to ground yourself only entice him further into your cunt. Slick arousal smears over his lips and chin as he devours you, leaving no inch of you untouched by his tongue.

He holds each of your hands in his as he works your body into a quivering climax that has tears spilling down your cheeks, relief soaking into your skin now that you’re finally home.

Aleksander’s expression softens as he observes your pitiful state. There’s a tremor in your legs that he attempts to coax out of you, smoothing his palms firmly over your thighs, his fingers squeezing at the sore muscle of your calves.

“Oh my love,” he coos. “You didn’t touch yourself at all while you were gone, did you?”

You shake your head.

“Didn’t feel right without you,” you admit, wiping the tears from your cheeks as they continue to pour. “Didn’t feel safe enough.”

A soft sigh heaves at his shoulders as he lowers himself over you, kissing his way up your body. He knows that feeling all too well, something he had hoped you would never experience again.

He sheds the rest of your clothing, tossing his own down onto the floor until your bare skin meets his. Sheer pleasure prickles through your body at the opportunity to feel his body against yours. Smooth skin, both of you marred with callouses and scars. The trail of hair down his stomach. Lean muscle and soft flesh. A soft moan escapes from your lips as his hips grind gently into yours.

“I have you now, my love,” he breathes out against your collarbone, mouthing over your throat. “You’re safe.” He reinforces his words with a firm kiss to the underside of your jaw. “You’re home.” Another kiss, a little higher. “Let me take care of you.”

“How is Alina?” you ask breathlessly.

He smiles down at you.

“She can summon at will now.” His mouth moves along your jawline. “For her Winter Fete display she plans to split sunbeams.”

He parts your thighs, positioning the head of his cock at your entrance before he eases himself forwards. A rough moan tears itself from the back of your throat as the feeling of Aleksander stretching you open floods through your body.

“She sleeps with your letters under her pillow each night.”

His words make your heart ache and your cunt clench around his cock, drawing a small hiss of surprise from him.

“I’ve missed her. I’ve missed you, Sasha.”

“I know, my love. I’ve missed you too,” he breathes out against your neck. “We talk about you all the time.”

He bites down on the juncture of your neck, teeth dragging on your skin before he strokes his tongue over the mark blooming there.

“You do?”

There’s a shy naivety in your voice, as if you can barely believe that the two people you adore most in the world would spend their time talking about you.

“She- she isn’t mad at me… is she?”

He kisses your cheek, his forehead pressing against your temple.

“No, my love. She isn’t mad at you.”

He moans quietly as your nails bite into his hips, clinging to him with an intensity that has you shaking. Aleksander kisses you, his mouth moving leisurely against yours. There is hardly a moment to breathe, with the head of Aleksander’s cock nudging against that sweet, sensitive spot inside you and the way he occupies your mouth.

Pleasure spirals in your stomach, as your cunt clenches tightly around his cock. Aleksander cries out a deep, startled sound. He grits his teeth, pressing his body directly into yours. Arching your back against the mattress, you grip onto Aleksander, writhing as your mind fights tooth and nail to resist the climax that your body is dragging you towards.

“Let go, my love,” he whispers, warm mouth suckling gently on your earlobe. “You’re safe, I have you. I promise.”

The next wave of pleasure that runs through you completely shatters whatever resolve had been subconsciously established in your mind. Another, rather unexpected, bout of tears trace down your cheeks and a small sob catches in the back of your throat as your climax peaks.

Aleksander continues his motions, thrusting into you as he cradles your face between his hands. He kisses your tears away as best he can whilst chasing his own climax. The shaky gasps of his name only entice him further, drawing a wrecked moan from his lips as he pulls out, spilling his sticky spend over your thighs.

The two of you remain in one another’s arms as you catch your breath, trading slow kisses and gentle touches. Aleksander’s fingers dance along the curves and dips of your body, following the path he knows by heart. As your eyes flutter closed, you link your fingers with his, giving them a gentle squeeze which he returns without hesitation.

Aleksander inhales sharply as you press a delicate kiss to his knuckles. In the absence of one another, it has been all too easy to forget the luxury of tender touches. There’s a softness to his features as he looks at you, tilting his head slightly to watch as you continue to kiss over each of his fingers.

“I told Alina about our past,” Aleksander confesses quietly. That has you freezing for a moment, eyes flickering up to study his face.

“How did she take it?”

His gaze lowers, his hand flexing slightly in your hold.

“She looked frightened at first. She had promised to listen to me, but I could see she was waiting to run.”

“What changed her mind?”

“You.”

A frown creases at your brows.

“I told her about you, about everything we’ve been through together. Everything we’ve lost over the years.” Emotion hardens in your throat, though you do your best to swallow it down. His tone grows regretful. “Even after everything I’ve done, you’ve remained by my side.”

“Because I love you,” you say quietly, pressing another kiss to his knuckles, squeezing his digits affectionately. “Because I know that everything you’ve done has been to keep us safe and keep our Grisha safe.” Tears well in Aleksander’s dark eyes. “How could I ever leave you - knowing that?”

He leans forward, cupping the back of your head to kiss you soundly.

»»---------------------►

Alina looks magnificent in black. The colour belongs to you as much as it belongs to Aleksander. To see her wearing your colour, her kefta perfectly moulded to her figure, drives the air from your lungs. She had been pale and gaunt when she first arrived at the Little Palace; it seems that your sun summoner has blossomed in your absence.

Aleksander moves towards her first, the crowd parting instantly for the three of you to meet.

“You were supposed to enter accompanied by palace guards,” he says in a low voice.

She blushes, her eyes bouncing between you and Aleksander.

“I’m sorry. I just… I wanted to see you.”

Her tone is shy, as if she truly hadn’t intended on diverting from Aleksander’s strict schedule for her safety. Aleksander blinks slowly, the corner of his lips twitching into a hint of a smile. His voice softens as he murmurs,

“You look lovely, by the way.”

The blush spreads down her neck and you lick your lips at the sight.

“Beautiful,” you add softly.

Her eyes darken as she meets your gaze and your stomach flips. She inclines her head demurely, a brief curtesy as she stares, seemingly drinking in the sight of you.

“Lieutenant.”

The only response you provide her is a brief tilt of your head.

“Miss Starkov.”

The urge to kiss her claws fiercely inside you, so strong that your lips tingle with a phantom anticipation. Her skin is glowing under the light of the chandeliers, her cheeks flushed prettily. Her lips have been coloured with a dewy layer of gloss that you want to feel smeared over your own mouth. Instead, you say,

“I look forward to your demonstration.”

She worries her lower lip between her teeth, brows furrowed slightly with concern before she manages to smile, somewhat distractedly. Her gaze lowers to the front of her kefta, as she begins to pick at the delicate embroidery there. Instantly, you curl your fingers around hers, halting her nervous fidgeting.

“I am certain it will be wonderful.”

Her inhale is sudden, her lips parted, eyes widened as they flicker rapidly between yours. Taking her hand to your lips, you press a gentle kiss to her knuckles. She swallows hard.

Inferni flame illuminates her features as Polina and Pavel begin their demonstration, fire arching over your heads. As the deep orange flickers over her face, you keep your eyes on her, admiring the soft glow of her skin.

There’s a knowing glimmer in Aleksander’s eyes as he looks at you. He smiles, ducking his head down to murmur quietly against Alina’s ear,

“Let’s give them a real show.”

His lips graze her temple and she shivers.

»»---------------------►

“I have something to confess,” Aleksander murmurs quietly against your ear.

With the demonstrations and dinner done, the royals have long since left the party, as have the majority of the nobility. Now, the people surrounding you are Grisha, which means you feel comfortable enough to sit in Aleksander’s lap. His chest is pressed against your back, the heat of his body warming your spine.

A minute frown creases at the space between your brows, though your eyes don’t stray from where Alina is standing, hiding behind a column with Genya, a flute of sparkling wine in her hand. She giggles and you drink in the sight of her flushed cheeks and bright eyes.

“Confess?”

His hands graze over your sides, his shadows slipping beneath your kefta to caress your body.

“I have been… tutoring Alina. Teaching her how to pleasure herself.”

You blink at him.

“Truly?”

He nods.

“She wants to touch you.”

“She does?”

He nods again, the bulge in his trousers hardening.

“Our darling Alya is rather shy. It took until she was bone limp with pleasure for her to admit it, but yes, she wants you.”

“You’ve touched her?”

“Not intimately.”

His answer has your frown returning.

“The poor girl can’t seem to relax enough without my touch to soothe her. A hand around her wrist, guiding her. Or a gentle pressure against her thighs. It took quite some time to convince her that she was allowed to touch herself.”

“From what she’s told me, the orphanage she grew up in was a conservative household. No doubt she feels embarrassed at the thought of wanting someone.”

From Aleksander’s expression, it’s clear that he is in agreement with you. Then the corner of his mouth lifts, a familiar darkness twinkling in his gaze.

“Now that she is aware of her desires, she is somewhat insatiable.”

The thought of innocent, wide eyed Alina throwing herself at your unflappable Aleksander is equal parts arousing and amusing. Thoughts of Alina touching herself, growing frustrated without him, and seeking out Aleksander to help her has a coil of need curling in your abdomen.

Aleksander smirks, lowering his mouth to graze against the shell of your ear, his voice dropping low so that no one but you can hear him.

“I’ve seen her touching herself, and with the pretty shade of crimson her cheeks gain, I’m certain her fantasies verge on obscene.”

“She’s perfect,” you whisper.

He presses a kiss to the sensitive skin of your earlobe.

“She is.”

His lips lower, trailing down your throat.

“Tonight?” you ask in a soft gasp.

“If you wish so,” he murmurs against your thundering pulse.

“I do. Sasha, I want her so badly.”

“I know.” He kisses your cheek softly. “Would you like her to yourself first?”

“I want her to come undone over my hand, while you watch us.”

He smiles widely.

“One condition.” You nod. “Afterwards, I want to teach Alina how to kiss your cunt.”

At the thought of them both between your thighs, trading slow kisses as they take turns licking and mouthing at your cunt, a small moan catches in the back of your throat. Aleksander curls his hand around your neck.

“She’s watching us.”

The inhale you take is shaky as you flutter your lashes.

“Now?”

He nods, squeezing at your throat gently. His nose brushes against yours delicately as he smiles indulgently at you as he whispers,

“Go to her.”

He releases his hold on you and warmth rushes to your cheeks as you wobble on unsteady feet. There’s a few eyes on you whilst making your way towards Alina, though they look away quickly after one glance in Aleksander’s direction.

Genya’s hazel eyes land on you, pink dusting over the porcelain skin of her cheeks when she sees how your gaze is fixed on Alina. She takes your sun summoner’s empty glass from her, making herself scarce with a knowing smile as you approach.

“Alina.” Her eyes widen, her gaze wandering from your lips downwards, lingering on the loosened neckline of your kefta, and your stomach flips. “I have a gift for you.”

She blinks in surprise.

“You do?”

A smile spreads over your face as you nod.

“Come see me later tonight, in Aleksander’s rooms. I will give it to you then.”

»»---------------------►

Aleksander’s footsteps are smooth and confident as he walks through the war room, his boots echoing over the polished wood. It’s only once he reaches the threshold of his bedroom that his gait falters.

“Where in the name of all saints did you get that?”

Turning from your reflection in the mirror above his vanity table, a coy smile curls at your lips as you smooth down the sheer lace of nightgown.

“To your liking, General?”

He breathes out a sharp laugh.

“Poor Alina won’t know where to look.”

“And you know exactly where to look,” you remark teasingly, adjusting the belt so that the length of your bare leg is on display.

His smile is wide and dazzling as he steps purposefully forward towards you.

“I do.”

Lowering himself onto his knees, Aleksander parts your nightgown, ducking his head between your thighs to kiss over your lace clad mound. A sound of surprise catches in the back of your throat, which dissolves into a moan when his tongue traces eagerly over the crease between your thighs and your hips.

He chuckles when you squirm, his warm hands settling over each of your knees to hold you in place as his mouth moves over your skin.

“Sasha,” you gasp. He smirks teasingly, eyes darkened as he looks up from between your thighs.

“My love, we’ve barely begun.”

There’s a tentative knock at the door.

Aleksander releases his hold on you, smoothing his hands over the knees of his trousers as he stands in one fluid motion. He strolls over towards the door, threading a hand through his hair as he does so. Suddenly conscious of your appearance, you brush down the fabric of your night robe to preserve your modesty.

“Alina,” he says softly.

There’s a small pause, and you know the sight in front of Alina will have her blushing already - Aleksander with bright eyes and flushed cheeks, his hair perfectly disheveled from delving between your thighs.

“Hello.”

“Please, come in.”

She’s dressed in her night dress, silk and lace clinging to her curves, with a velvet robe thrown over her shoulders. Her gaze bounces over the entirety of your body, unable to fix on any particular aspect before another steals her attention. She smiles as she approaches you.

“I actually have a gift for you as well.”

Rather shyly, she hands you a painted wooden box, wrapped in a sleek black ribbon. At the edge of the room, Aleksander circles around the two of you, watching silently.

The box is made of a wholesome wood, carved around the edge of the lid and along the sides. On every side, a detailed scene has been depicted in paint. The Little Palace, the True Sea, Morozova’s stag grazing in a sunlit meadow. Each brushstroke has been created with care and a skill you can only marvel at.

“Alina,” you whisper in awe.

She blushes.

“I painted it myself.”

Opening up the box, you stare at the contents for a long moment. Countless papers. Folded with care. Some of them are in envelopes, sealed with a rosy pink wax. Alina’s handwriting is instantly recognisable, looping ink on the creamy parchment.

“Are these-?”

“I didn’t want anyone but you to read them.” There’s a pause which weighs heavy over the room and Alina grows nervous. “If you don’t like it-”

“No. Alya, I love it,” you insist earnestly, tucking your hands around it protectively. Rather bashfully, you look down, tracing your fingers over the delicate brushstrokes. “My gift feels somewhat lacking now.”

“What… what is it?”

There’s a curious gleam in her eyes as she looks around you. Nervously, she tucks a stray hair back behind her ear as she sits tentatively at the foot of Aleksander’s bed. Slowly, you place her gift on the vanity table, your eyes examining her expression when you ask,

“Can I kiss you, Alina?”

Her eyes widen, and she blushes a bright shade of scarlet, then nods.

“I haven’t done this before,” she admits, a touch of worry spilling into her eyes. You smile at her.

“I know.” Inhaling slowly, you stand and walk over towards her. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything like this.”

Taking her chin between your fingers, you guide her mouth to yours for a tender kiss. The soft press of her lips against yours is better than you could have imagined. Gentle and warm and the shimmering gloss tastes sweet like strawberries.

She gasps out a little sound of pleasure as you cradle the back of her head, while your other hand strokes along her jawline, encouraging the steady motion of her lips. Without thinking, your hands wander down her body, grasping at the silky fabric covering her. She’s panting for breath as you cup her breasts, mapping the curves of her waist with each of your palms.

With little effort, you move her backwards and she sinks down onto the mattress with ease. It’s only after several more kisses that she seems to realise she’s lying on her back, in your bed, with your body attempting to nestle between her thighs.

“Would you part your legs for me?” you ask against her mouth.

She complies slowly, a smidge of embarrassed hesitation in her movement. Instantly, you begin to move downwards, pushing the velvet robe aside before you slide the silk of her nightdress up over her waist.

“Good girl.” She whines at your praise, which only encourages you further. “What a good girl you are, Alya.”

Her hands cover her face, as you lick a stripe over her bare thigh, heading towards the apex of her legs. As your nose nudges against her clothed mound, your mouth waters at the heady scent of her arousal.

“Has Aleksander ever touched you here?” She peeks at you from between her fingers and you raise a brow at her, a wicked smile tugging at your lips when she nods. “He has?” She nods again, breathless already as you laugh teasingly. “Does he touch you with or without your underwear in the way?”

Her cheeks are inflamed, you can feel the heat of her body burning with arousal against your lips as you kiss across her hips and thighs.

“W- with my underwear on,” she stammers bashfully. “Always with it on.”

“Would you like me to take it off?” She stares at you wide eyed, as if she hadn’t even imagined you wanting to touch her so intimately. “Would you like me to stroke your bare cunt?”

She whimpers your name, dropping her head back against the pillow and you grin at the sight of her so disheveled already - from a few heated kisses and some dirty words.

“I-” She worries her lower lip between her teeth. “Are you sure you want to?”

That has you growing still.

“Alina. Can I show you something?”

She nods hesitantly. Taking her hand, you entwine her fingers with yours. Slowly, you slide your joined hands down your body, slipping beneath the fabric of your night robe. Her eyes widen, lips parted in shock as her cheeks burn bright, though she doesn’t pull away even when you press her fingertips against your dripping entrance.

“Can you feel how much I want to, sweet girl?”

She nods.

“So soft.”

There’s a slight slur to her words, as if feeling your arousal has pushed her into a daze, and the temptation to push her fingers inside you prickles over your skin in a burning need. Her hand moves curiously, dipping into your centre, and you groan quietly at her hesitant touch.

Her gaze wanders down your body, before she becomes fixated on the spot between your legs.

“Yours is prettier than mine.”

“Alina,” Aleksander says sternly from where he’s seated himself at his vanity table. His tone has you clenching around nothing and a small pout puckers at her lips in response to his admonishment. “What have I told you about comparing yourself to others?”

Her pout deepens.

“Not to.”

“And why is that?”

She mumbles an answer that you can hardly hear, her cheeks inflamed with an embarrassed heat. Aleksander raises a brow, before prompting her to repeat herself, his tone remaining firm.

“Alina.”

“Because I’m beautiful,” she whispers, her voice wavering as she squeezes her eyes shut.

The smile you share with Aleksander, unseen by Alina, is devious. It seems you are no longer alone in your mission to improve Alina’s sense of self-worth.

Unable to stop yourself, you reward her with a kiss. Her robe slips easily from her shoulders, pooling over the mattress as you grasp at her body. She gasps at the feeling of your hands wandering, squirming beneath you with small sounds of pleasure that she breathes against your lips.

“Aleksander tells me he’s been tutoring you.”

The hint of a whine catches in the back of her throat, her cheeks hot with embarrassment at your words. She nods.

“Will you tell me what you’ve learnt? Will you tell me what you like, sweet girl?”

She bites down on her lip, the plush skin breaking between her teeth. Instantly, you lean forwards, suckling her lower lip to soothe the sting of her bite. The coppery taste of her blood touches the tip of your tongue and she moans louder when you lick over the sensitive spot.

“Tell me, Alina. Let me pleasure you.”

She whines again, a sweet noise that you want to tease out of her over and over again. Taking her hand again, you splay it between her breasts, using your own hand to smooth it down her body. Her thighs tremble.

“Tell me, sweet girl.”

“I- I like it gentle at first,” she stammers quietly, which has a smile quirking at the corner of your mouth as you slip your hand beneath the waistband of her panties.

“Hm? Like this?”

Her lips fall open into a perfect circle as you dip your finger between her soaked folds.

“Oh,” she breathes out, dropping her head back onto the pillow. “Yes.”

The base of your finger nudges against her clit and she writhes beneath you. Her hand curls around your wrist, squeezing as she pleads softly,

“Faster, please.”

Her hips jerk as you begin to circle her clit with the pad of your finger, your thumb hooked over her mound, the digit buried amongst the dark curls there. Alina squeezes her eyes shut, brows scrunching adorably as she gasps.

“Can I stretch your little cunt open now, sweet girl?” She whimpers, nodding fervently.

Her eyes meet yours, an endless darkness of desire spiralling in her blown pupils. Ducking your head down, you allow saliva to pool in your mouth before letting it drop down onto where your finger is pressing against her entrance. Her mouth drops open at the vulgar action, red blossoming down her neck and chest as it heaves with a shaky breath.

The mattress dips as Aleksander sits down at the foot of bed, his eyes fixed on where your hands explore Alina’s body. With the mess of her arousal and the added lubrication of your saliva, you slide your finger inside her. The heat of her cunt clings to your digit, dragging you in greedily and the feeling makes you groan against her neck.

“Alya, fuck, you’re so tight. Such a warm, pretty, little cunt.”

She shudders beneath you, whining your name as she grasps at the fabric of your night robe. With a few deft motions, you untie the belt and reveal your bare chest to her. A desperate noise catches in the back of her throat, her eyes wide and round as she stares at your breasts.

Curling your finger, you search for the spot that makes her clench harder than ever, stroking her quivering walls as you begin to speak.

“You can touch, Alya.”

“W-what?”

“You can touch me. Anywhere you want. Everywhere you want.”

Expecting hesitation from her, the feeling of her hands on your breasts, squeezing the flesh and tugging experimentally on your nipples, has you gasping in surprise. A soft groan escapes you, as the repression inside Alina seems to break. She grasps at you eagerly, perfectly trimmed nails digging into your skin.

Tenderly, you nuzzle your face into the crook of her neck, kissing over her collarbones.

“Let go, sweet girl. I have you.”

She gasps, her grip on you tightening as she bucks her hips upwards, chasing the motion of your hand. Sweat glosses over her body, her power shimmering beneath her skin. Light dances at the edge of the room, but all you can focus on is Alina as she reaches the peak of her pleasure.

Her back arches away from the mattress, dark eyes widened as she cries out your name, body succumbing to her climax. Her cunt twitches around your finger, pulsing violently around your digit. With her head thrown backwards, you can see each frantic beat of her heart thrumming in the veins across her throat, bared vulnerable to your hungry eyes.

She breathes heavily, pupils wide and sparkling with pleasure as she stares at you, her gaze flickering between your face and your body. Her smile is almost shy now, as she tucks a stray hair behind her ear with a shaky hand.

Aleksander’s hand curls around your throat, squeezing softly as he directs your head backward towards his mouth. It’s easy and well-practised, the way he moves your body so that you’re lying on your back with him nestled perfectly between your thighs.

“Remember what we agreed on, my love?”

“Sasha,” you whine against his lips, imagining Aleksander and Alina kissing between your thighs, their lips smeared with your arousal.

His hands are well acquainted with your body, paying attention to every dip and curve that he knows by heart. He squeezes the softest areas, blunt nails dragging purposefully over the spots that make you shudder as he works his way downwards. He kisses over your hip bones, tongue laving over the sensitive skin there as he traces his way down your thighs.

Aleksander retracts onto the balls of his heels, parting your folds smoothly with his fingers and your body burns at the feeling of being so observed as your arousal sticks to his digits. He leans over to kiss Alina’s flushed cheek, his lips grazing her ear as he speaks in a low voice.

“Kiss her here, just like you’d kiss her mouth,” he instructs Alina.

She takes your hand, brushing her thumb over your knuckles and a previously unnoticed tension slips from your shoulders, allowing you to settle comfortably on the mattress. There’s a determined set to her jaw, enthusiasm glimmering in her eyes as if she has been wanting for months to taste you. Slowly, she leans forwards.

The soft press of her lips against your cunt has you squirming, a keening whine slipping from your lips as her tongue darts out tentatively to lick up your arousal. She hums and your stomach flips at the thought of her enjoying the feeling of your cunt against her tongue.

Aleksander smiles at you both, squeezing your thigh as he pets the back of her head.

“Very good, Alinochka.”

The praise makes her sigh against your cunt and you clench around nothing, wishing she would slip her tongue inside you. Aleksander traces his fingers over your mound, drawing a shiver from you as he directs Alina’s attention to your clit.

“Watch carefully,” he tells her.

He ducks his head down, taking the swollen nub of your clit into his mouth. Instantly, you cry out, writhing over the mattress as you grasp at his hair, tugging on it with carnal need.

When he releases you, Alina is eager to take his place, mimicking the pressure of his mouth whilst lapping at your clit with her tongue. Breathless, you moan brokenly. The two of them are taking you apart, piece by piece, stealing the fractured shards of you for themselves.

Nerves stir in your stomach as your pleasure begins to sharpen into something tangible, almost within your grasp. Nevertheless, your climax evades you, until you can feel your sweat soaking the sheets and glossing at your forehead.

“Sasha, I can’t,” you whisper weakly.

“You can, my love.” He kisses your temple. “You’re doing so well.”

He strokes your hair back gently, reaching out to cup your breast comfortingly as he lies at your side. His thumb circles over your nipple in a soothing motion and you press your forehead against his shoulder as you whine. Taking your chin between his fingers, he turns you so that you’re looking down at Alina.

“Doesn’t she look beautiful like this? Our darling Alina.” At the sound of her name, her eyes flicker up to meet yours, a lustful sheen in her gaze that fills her features as she looks between you and Aleksander. “Don’t you want to spill yourself over her pretty face?”

She seems captivated by you, an awestruck expression glimmering in her eyes. Innocent little Alina, staring openly at you - as you lie splayed over Aleksander’s bed, almost completely unraveled by her mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck- Alina.”

As your climax hits, your curses turn into frantic whines and your hips jerk against Alina’s face. Pleasure blooms beneath your skin, prickling down your spine as your cunt clenches a rapid rhythm that sends you spiralling into bliss.

Eyes fluttering closed, you drop your head back against the pillow, turning to press your forehead onto Aleksander’s shoulder. Each breath you take is a desperate heave of air, your body warm and sated with a blissful satisfaction as your pulse gallops a steady rhythm beneath your skin.

Alina stares at you, pink tongue tracing her lower lip as your eyes lock for a heated moment. Then she scrambles up your body, straddling your waist eagerly as she leans down to kiss you, smearing the remnants of your orgasm from her mouth to yours. Aleksander breathes out a soft groan at the sight of you both as you kiss lazily.

“Sasha,” you murmur against Alina’s lips, reaching downwards with the intention to grasp at his still-clothed cock.

His hand curls around your wrist to stop you.

“I want a clear head tonight,” he says when you meet his gaze.

On occasion, Aleksander denies himself a climax in order to stay fully aware of his surroundings, particularly when he’s feeling anxious about your safety. A rebuke is on the tip of your tongue - after all, the Little Palace is one of the safest places in the world. You and Aleksander ensured it. But with Alina here in your bed for the first time, you can understand why he would be concerned.

Pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, you whisper,

“Thank you, Sasha.”

He smiles, stroking your cheek affectionately with his knuckles.

“Anything for you, my love.”

“Can I wake you with a treat tomorrow morning?”

His smile widens.

“A treat?”

As you settle down by his side, curling up beneath his outstretched arm, you nod.

“Hm. I want to teach Alina how to suck your cock.”

Alina stifles a gasp. The apple of his throat bobs, a muscle in his jaw flaring as his eyes darken.

“My love,” he says warningly. “Your proposition isn’t helping my current issue.”

Biting down on your lip, you feel a touch of guilt as he shifts his hips, breathing deeply through his nose as he attempts to rein in his arousal.

“Sorry, Sasha.”

He hums with a smile, clearly unconvinced by your apology. Then he cups the back of your head, sinking his fingers into your hair as he kisses you.

“Let me clean the two of you up,” he suggests.

He glances at Alina in a silent question, requesting her consent which she gives with a soft smile and a small nod. Leisurely, you stretch out over the mattress as Aleksander stands to retrieve a wash cloth and basin full of water.

Alina breathes out a sigh and your eyes flutter open to admire her form draped beside you. Candlelight flickers over her skin, your fingers following the shadows that dip into the curves of her body as you reach out to trace over her figure with a featherlight touch. She hums quietly, eyes heavy-lidded as she looks at you. When your eyes meet, the smile that spreads across her face is luminous.

She blushes when Aleksander parts her legs, wiping a warm cloth over the space between her thighs. Once he’s done, you kiss her lips as a reward. He tells her that she can wear anything she likes to bed and she immediately moves towards your wardrobe as Aleksander’s attention moves to you.

He kisses you softly, hands cradling your face as you both smile at one another. He cleans you with the same care given to Alina, and once he’s done, you retrieve one of his night shirts to sleep in. As you shrug the garment over your shoulders, you turn your attention back to Alina.

She’s wearing one of your cosiest night robes, the soft fabric bundled around her frame. It drags over the floor as she moves towards you and Aleksander, climbing into bed between you both - where she belongs.

Finally having her in your bed seems to be quite the distraction for you and Aleksander; neither of you can keep your hands off her, taking turns to kiss her lips.

Alina giggles breathlessly.

“Aren’t we going to sleep?” she remarks teasingly, gnawing on her lower lip. The sight of her, dark curls askew and flushed cheeks, makes you and Aleksander both sigh.

“Yes, milaya,” Aleksander says decidedly as he reaches for the lantern on his bedside. “We’re going to sleep.”

He lifts the glass, blowing out the candle, and the room descends into darkness. Slipping your arms around Alina’s waist, you pull her backwards and she slots perfectly against your front. Aleksander drapes his arm over Alina, encaging her between you both as he reaches for you. He strokes a hand over your bicep, languid petting as the three of you fall asleep.

»»---------------------►

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#aleksander morozova x reader x alina starkov #darklina x reader #shadow and bone au #shadow and bone x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #alina starkov x reader

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phyx-m · 5 days ago

Text

Beneath The Silk | True form Sukuna x Reader

🔗 Masterlist

Chapter 14: All The Hands Past Midnight

Content warning: masturbation (brief), violence, dismemberment, blood, mention of child abuse, death of an animal.

🔗 Songs for this chapter:

Over - Portishead Cult - Skinny Puppy In the House - In a Heartbeat - John Murphy

* * * * *

Chapter 13 | Chapter 15

* * * * *

By the time you return to your chambers, it’s late, nearing midnight.

Entering your room, you find it dark, where a damp chill clings to everything. The outlines of furniture barely distinguish themselves in the gloom, so you carefully navigate the maze with outstretched hands. Though lighting a flame crosses your mind, all you want is sleep. And after this long, arduous night followed by the uncomfortable encounter with Sayuri, you're too exhausted and on edge.

Still dressed in thick layers from the ride to the forest, you quickly strip them off, tossing the garments and gloves into a heap on the floor—something to deal with in the morning.

As your eyes adjust to the dim, you spot your white yukata, its pale cloth shining faintly in the dark. You slip it over your shoulders, letting it fall over your bare skin, the fabric offering little to no warmth.

With two brisk steps to the futon, you tug back the bedding and slide in. Settling is difficult as the persistent chill clambers over you, icy fingers latching onto any exposed skin. Folding your arms across your chest in search of heat, you try to get comfortable.

Though the deer broth from earlier soothed your aching body, a heaviness remains. Your limbs are still weak, energy drained. It will take much more than one bowl to restore your strength.

With that in mind, you close your eyes on an exhale. The quiet begins to lull you into rest, but a sudden shiver creeps in, and your teeth start to chatter.

“F-fuck,” you curse softly.

Perhaps it’s time to ask Uraume for something to keep your chambers warmer.

You turn onto your side, squeezing your eyes shut as you burrow into the sheets, but the chill offers no relief. Teeth knocking together, you shift restlessly—from your side to your stomach, shoving your arms beneath you in search of warmth—still, nothing. Frustration grows as you roll to your back a heartbeat later—yet the cold remains.

A trembling exhale, and you sit up.

Your gaze drops to the pile of rumpled fabric on the floor, where Sukuna’s black haori muddles with your garments. You stare at it for far too long before finally reaching for it.

Running a thumb along the fabric, you gently slip your arms into the sleeves, letting it fall over you—consume you. It’s so large that it catches at the knees.

You huff as a sense of begrudging relief seeps in. The added layer calms your shaking body and stills the stutters in your jaw.

You crawl back onto the futon, pulling the sheets to your chin while tugging the haori closer. The faint scent of Sukuna lifts off the fabric, and a thread of treacherous longing moves through you.

Your thoughts start to empty, mind drifting to the King of Curses—his eyes, fingertips, mouth, and touch.

God, his touch.

Even after he said it didn’t matter if you rotted, you still think of it as your hand starts to wander down your stomach and further to your center.

Something had to be wrong with you.

You’ve touched yourself before while thinking of him, but now, it feels like the consequences are beginning to catch up. Consequences that are clouding your judgment, making you blind. Besides, he doesn’t deserve a place in your head—least of all in your thoughts like this.

But, despite all these conflicting desires, your hand reaches your clit, and it’s aching.

As soon as you press down, your hips rise to meet your touch, and a moan tumbles out. You begin to grind against your fingers through the thin fabric of your yukata, while the haori, with its extra material, moves lazily around you.

Mind turning hazy, you convince yourself that it's just for release, only to banish this perverse attraction that’s tormenting you.

But images start to fill your vision. Images of being filled by Sukuna. Not by his thick fingers and not by his stomach maw, but by him, his cocks.

It’s a dangerous curiosity, but hell, if you can stop fantasizing about it now.

Panting and moaning, you keep going and going, desperate to cum, while your other hand slides up your body to knead and tease your breast.

Chirp-chirp-chirp-chirp.

Outside your grilled window, a solitary cricket begins to sing, searching for company. Its constant clicking an intrusion into your heated daze.

You listen as the sound of the insect gradually merges with the sudden rumbling of hooves.

Breathing heavily, you pull your hand away and sit up.

Someone is riding out this late?

You strain your ears and realize it must be Sukuna. He’s the only other rider here besides you, and those monstrous creatures he uses as mounts would be too difficult for anyone else to handle.

But then that just means he’s leaving. Again.

“Damnit." You glare at the window. “How long is this going to take?”

From your chambers, you listen as the hoofbeats slowly dissolve, and Sukuna slips away, leaving only the cricket to trill mournfully.

Desire gone, you lie back down, curling inward for comfort. You give his haori one last tug and tuck your chin to your chest.

“Come back soon, my Lord,” you whisper into the darkness. “So I can kill you.”

Eyes shutting, you finally let sleep find you as the sounds of the night fade into nothingness.

* * * * *

You’re nine years old, and the cat’s fur beneath your hand is soft. It purrs affectionately as your tiny fingers trail its velvety coat in careful, uneven strokes.

The animal weaves playfully around your feet, diving in and out, its tail curling and swishing back and forth.

You laugh softly, smiling, as it comes to a stop in front of you.

Curious, you bend down to observe the narrow slits of its eyes. But you wince as the angry knot growing on the side of your head swells.

Your fingers find the abnormality, feeling it protrude from the otherwise smooth contours of your skull. The discomfort and pain from the knot mirror the ache growing inside your chest.

At nine years old, you know when to run—when your father’s eyes narrow, his mouth twists into something cold, hard. Unfeeling. Usually, you can escape in time, find your mother, hide, do anything before he gets his hands on you.

But today, you weren’t so lucky.

You’re not sure what you did to deserve the strike. All you know is that one moment, you were standing, and the next, you were toppling to the ground, head cracking against the floor, your father looming over you.

“You stupid, useless girl! I should have had sons to carry this clan’s weight. Instead, I’m cursed with two fucking daughters!”

His mocking words only seem to grow crueller with every passing year. Maybe he loved you once, but you can’t remember ever feeling it.

Tears stinging down your face, you stare at the cat. One hand gently strokes it. While the other rests on your welt. Both begin to tremble.

Stupid, useless girl.

You squint your eyes.

Something painful blooms in your stomach, like acid, and your fingertips burn.

Stupid, useless girl.

A subtle vibration—barely noticeable—but the cat's body swells once.

Stupid, useless girl.

A terrible heat engulfs you. Your brow furrows, teeth clenching.

Stupid, useless girl.

Another swell, and then another.

Stupid, useless—

Like a stone dropped into water, a ripple spreads unnaturally across the cat’s skin. It heaves, and its body begins to fold, fold, fold in on itself with a wet crunch. Blood bursts from its stomach. Bones jut out, desperate to escape the confines of its skin. The rib cage tears through its own flesh, pulling away before collapsing into a mess of innards.

You yank your hand away, exhaling sharply, staring down at the warm carcass.

Vomit churns in your stomach and licks up your throat.

You stand, legs shaking, in shock.

You glance down at your hands and the pads of your fingers, then start running, knowing exactly where to go.

“Yuna!” you wail, throwing open the door to your sister’s chambers and barreling inside.

She’s tucked into her futon, unwell, but the moment she sees your distress, she's on her feet.

"I didn’t mean to—I didn’t mean to hurt it." Tears dive down your cheeks as the weight, the consequences of your touch, settle in, twisting and reshaping you.

“What’s wrong?” She breathes the words softly, rushing toward you. “You’re scaring me.”

Yuna searches your face, your watery gaze, the emotions mapping your features, desperate to understand.

As if wanting to shield you, she reaches out.

"No!” You jerk back, terrified of your own touch. “Don’t.” She steps forward, and you retreat. “Don’t come near me.”

"It’s okay," she whispers, soothing, treading closer as if you’re a frightened animal—and you feel like one.

You wonder if the cat, under your hands just moments ago, had felt the same fear before you turned it into nothing but pulp and mass.

"It’s not," you sob, vision blurring, shoulders shaking. “It’s not okay. I’m a monster—I don’t know what’s happening—I didn’t mean to...”

Before you can move again, she pulls you into her arms, holding you tight. You flinch, try to wriggle free, to fight her embrace.

"Stop," she murmurs, hugging you tighter. The solace in her arms stills your body, softening your struggle. "Shh. It’s okay... you’re okay."

You cry into her shoulder until there’s nothing left, and she holds you, rubbing gentle circles on your back.

Soothing touches, with her fingertips, over and over and over and over—

A caress glides along your cheek—a touch so brief, it’s barely there, like an insect crawling over skin, the fraying ends of loose fabric, or a wisp of hair. In sleep, amidst dreams and memories of your sister and the discovery of your cursed gift, you brush it away gently.

But another touch follows, drifting across your skin. This time, you’re aware enough that your nose twitches and your face scrunches.

You brush it away.

Another one, feather-light, on the left side of your face, down along cheekbone to chin.

You brush it away.

Again.

You brush it—

Weight presses down on your hips, straddling you. Something is keeping you held down.

All at once, you’re awake.

Your eyes snap open and adjust to the room bathed in hues of inky black and shades of blue.

It’s past midnight.

A glance upward reveals a sight that makes you wonder if you’re still dreaming. You had to be. A figure hovers above you, their face obscured by a veil of long black hair.

But it’s not a dream. And you don’t need to see more to know who it is.

The cream-coloured robe, the lithe frame, and the delicate fingers clenched into tight fists, holding something in the left hand—these details, however small, tell you who it is.

“Sayuri…?” Your voice is so quiet you’re not sure a sound came out.

But it did.

She lifts her chin, parting her hair to reveal her face. Her dark brown eyes, almost black, hold no warmth.

A slow horror falls over you.

You were told she was unwell, but that was a lie, considering the strength she exerts on your body. And now, trapped beneath her, you feel every bit of your vulnerability, worsened by the fact that you were bedridden for a week.

Your heart starts to rattle against your chest, urging you to run, to flee, to go now.

But you can’t.

Soft pants escape your lips.

You pull your hands away from Sukuna’s haori, which you had been clutching subconsciously, and place them on the bed.

“Sayuri,” you exhale raggedly as her grip tightens on whatever she’s holding, “What’re—why are you—”

Her arm flies up, and without a sound, she brings it—down.

“Sayuri!” A wet scream erupts from your throat.

The sound can only be described as a noise a wounded animal would make. It’s the sound of realization, knowing now that she’s holding a knife and driving the blade right into the center of your palm.

Pure, white-hot pain splits your vision. The feeling is unlike anything you’ve felt before, as if a heated metal rod is jamming through your skin.

Tears pool in your eyes, while tendons and muscles part. The force with which she drives the blade punctures through your hand and embeds into the futon and the floor.

Laughing viciously, her right hand covers your mouth, smothering any of your cries.

“Shut up, you stupid bitch,” she hisses, leaning close, strands of hair brushing against your face, taunting you. Lazily, she lets go of the knife and brings her hand to splay across your throat before gripping it.

Looking up at her, you realize you don’t recognize this woman. You don’t know her anymore. Perhaps you never did.

“Please.” A choked sob against her palm.

The pressure around your neck increases. A warning.

Still, you try to pry her grip away with your uninjured hand, but before you can, the one covering your mouth shifts, pinning it back down.

Your brow pinches in distress.

“Why are you doing this?” you croak.

Her eyes narrow as she tilts her head back, laughter spidering up from somewhere deep inside. The sound is both a melodious and malicious mix—a playful yet mocking tone that shatters like delicate glass.

The timbre raises the hair on your body, causing you to shift, and you groan in agony. Any movement aggravates the steel lodged in your palm, digging deeper into reddening flesh. Salt and iron hit your nose as warm blood begins to pool and trickle onto the bedding.

Her gaze, the colour of blackened mud, returns to you.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know. You’ve always been so good at pretending, haven’t you?” she croons, fingernails digging into your neck and wrist. “It should be obvious. Or are you blind? Perhaps naive?”

Your mouth trembles.

“I-if this is about Sukuna… I don’t want him.” Anger flares across her features, turning her lovely face unkind. “I never wanted this! Please, you don’t need to—”

“You don’t understand!” she spits, “It’s not about what you want. It’s about what I’ve lost. You’ve taken everything from me! But I’ll make sure you’re gone. Then he can be mine again.”

Suddenly, the hand at your throat pushes down until it constricts.

“There—has to be—another way—”

“There is no other way. I should have done this myself!” she shouts, “thinking someone else could handle it. That was a fucking mistake.”

Someone else?

You try to take in her words, but she falls forward. Leaning on all her weight, she presses her hand down on your windpipe.

No!

Your legs flail in desperation.

Her brows twitch with intense anger, colourless lips curling in a snarl of all-consuming hate.

“Just—go to sleep,” she taunts in your ear, pushing down.

You buck your hips, trying to throw her off. But Sayuri only pushes harder, her thumb finding your trachea.

A push. Harder, harder, harder.

The delicate rings in your neck begin to shift and crunch.

Air. You need—

Crunch!

The passage of your throat ruptures, and a long, garbled wheeze punches from your lungs.

Adrenaline screams into your veins.

Desperate, you lift your right hand, sliding your palm along the knife. Sayuri’s hand flies to the hilt, wrenching it free, and a cry lodges in your throat, gurgles, and dies.

Fueled by panic and free from the blade, you lurch forward, driving your left elbow into her chest, shoving her back until she collapses onto the futon.

You scramble up and dash across the room toward the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?!” she snarls.

From behind, she lunges.

The blade sinks into your back.

You scream, the sound a mere crackle from your damaged throat.

Sayuri tugs at the blade, making sure to twist it, push it down, and pull away a path of skin with it.

Teetering on your feet, you reach back, trying to dislodge the intrusion. But she yanks it free and follows up with a kick to your legs, sending you crashing to the ground.

Your stomach lurches.

The hard surface of the floor steals your breath. And for a heartbeat, you can’t move, but you fight to drag yourself forward. The wound on your palm aches, the one on your back even more.

Over your shoulder, you hear Sayuri take two steps toward you.

“If only Master Sukuna could see you now,” she chuckles bitterly, “he would probably regret taking such a pitiful woman as a—”

Bang!

The door crashes open.

You blink up, eyes adjusting to the darkness at the threshold. Ren stands there, breathless.

“Ren,” you garble, voice like crushed stones as you crawl painfully across the floor.

Your second attendant’s gaze darts from Sayuri to you. She doesn’t react; she just stares, an expression so severe that her brow wrinkles.

You freeze.

It’s one thing to face Sayuri’s betrayal, but Ren’s as well. Trapped between two of them, you won’t survive this. You will not survive this.

I’m going to die here.

They both move.

Sayuri is quick, but Ren moves faster.

“Sayuri, don’t!” Ren collides with the other attendant and positions herself between you and her. She’s shielding you, putting herself in harm's way, protecting you.

Your heart clenches.

Despite this, Sayuri’s blade frantically rises up and—down, plunging far too easily into Ren’s throat.

A cry cracks the air, from you or Ren, you’re unsure.

Thick globs of blood gush out.

Ren makes no noise as she collapses to her knees. Just a damp choke, a twitch of her fingers, that’s it.

Your mind empties.

Sayuri slides the blade free and raises it, aiming for her temple next.

Certainty falls over you.

You’re about to watch her die.

“No!”

Ren reaches out, shaky hands knocking Sayuri’s legs from under her. She falls back.

One of them yelps.

Ren turns, eyes finding yours. They soften for the first time. Her lips form a single word: Run.

You shake your head, unwilling to leave her.

She gives a faint nod.

"Yes, my Lady," she whispers, pressing a hand to the wound at her neck. Blood gathers at the hollow of her throat. “Go.”

Trembling, you dip your chin.

“I’ll find help.” You try to reassure her, but the look on her paling face says otherwise as she pushes a tight smile onto her lips.

Reluctantly, you pull yourself to your feet, forcing your body to move to the door.

Bursting into the corridor, you glance left, then right.

A decision must be made. Now.

Left or right.

Left leads to other arteries of the shrine. Right to Sukuna's chambers—but there’s no light, no presence. He left on horseback hours ago, and besides, you've never been inside. It could be a dead end. And even if he were there, he wouldn’t help you. He hates you as much as you hate him.

"It doesn’t matter to me if you fucking rot."

Sukuna's earlier words have you turning left.

The corridor is dark as you stumble forward. The only sounds are your ragged breathing and the drip, drip of crimson hitting the floor.

Every movement hurts—every heartbeat throbs through every gaping wound.

Still, you press on, step by agonizing step, Sukuna's haori clinging to you while your yukata grows heavy with blood.

Tap, tap, tap.

Delicate footsteps echo behind you.

“Oooh, my Laaady,” Sayuri drawls in a sweetly mocking voice.

She’s coming.

Glancing back, you catch a glimpse of her emerging from your chambers, black hair spilling around her like a shadow.

Keep going.

You run faster.

The sounds of her feet grow closer.

Reaching the turn in the corridor, you round it and make it in front of the doors to the central hall. It's deserted, but the passage ahead—that’s your chance. Find Uraume, then—

You’re tackled from behind.

Hitting the ground, your skin scrapes painfully against the polished wood as you roll twice.

Sayuri lunges to pin you down, but you shove her off and scramble away. With some distance between you, you try to stand. But the next blow drives you into the floor. Your head cracks against the wood, vision wavering.

Stupid, useless girl.

You're nine years old again, your father looming over you.

The blade slices into your shoulder, and you scream as Sayuri yanks your head back, tearing chunks of hair from the roots.

Stupid, useless girl.

You shake away the memory and turn.

Shrieking, you strike—your uninjured hand slashes across Sayuri's face. Nails dig into her cheek, peeling away strips of skin, throwing her off balance. You follow up with a sharp kick to her shoulder, dislodging it.

“Bitch!” she seethes, tracks of red falling down her cheek to chin.

She crawls toward you, and you scramble back, frantic to keep her away. But she keeps coming, knife in hand, teeth bared like a wild animal, hellbent on tearing you apart.

You have to do something—the one thing you don’t want to do.

In the few seconds you have, as Sayuri gets close, you raise your left hand and reach for your gift. Power thrums through your fingertips as you thrust your arm forward, fingers splayed.

Then you freeze.

The face staring back is Yuna's. You’d always thought they looked alike—from the softness of her mouth to the effortless way she moved through life. Adored. Both of them were adored.

Your hand hovers. You hesitate.

Sayuri doesn’t.

The blade arcs cleanly through the air, slicing a deep gash along a heart line of your palm.

You wince, your power fading, slipping from your grasp. Your hand falls limp. Blood drips from the angry wound, dark red against the wooden floor, barely visible in the murky light.

Sayuri chuckles softly as she gets to her feet.

"That's it, just give up," she coos, savouring the sight of you breaking.

But you think you've been broken for a long time—since seven years ago, but maybe even longer than that.

Tears climb down your face and fall to the ground.

Fuck.

Your only regret is failing to protect your sister. Nothing else. You were never meant for more than that.

Something pulls at you. A faint tendril of energy, curling to soothe the back of your neck, gentle, almost curious.

You lift your gaze to Sayuri.

Her hollow eyes meet yours through bits of tangled hair. Her arm pulls back, ready to slit your throat, the blade shining in the dark, a thin sliver of silver.

Badum, badum, badum.

Your heartbeat pounds, then another pulse—one that’s not your own.

Snap!

Her hand gripping the knife, once there, disappears. It severs flawlessly, cut at the wrist. Blood sprays across your face, forcing you to shut your eyes and turn away as the mist clings to your skin.

An elongated shriek cuts through the corridor.

Something moves past you.

You crack open your eyes.

Sayuri flails on the ground, as she’s dragged away by the roots of her hair. She lifts her arm, seemingly unaware her hand is gone, pressing the oozing stump against the massive hand gripping her.

His hand.

“Sukuna…” His name barely makes it past your raw, burning throat.

Even with his back to you, beneath his kosode, every muscle bunches, his whole body on the verge of snapping.

He is furious.

The woman in his grip screams, lashing violently, her legs and feet pounding against the floor. Blood spurts from her severed limb, painting her in vivid blooms of red.

The King of Curses doesn’t stop. His steps are like an undercurrent, drawing everything toward him.

He’s going to kill her.

“W-wait!” Sayuri cries as Sukuna drags her further down the corridor. “Don’t do this! Master, please! I love you!”

Unmoved by her declaration, he scoffs, the noise rolling into a peal of loud, cruel laughter.

“That word means nothing to me,” he says, continuing his relentless pull.

Realization dawns on Sayuri as her frantic eyes meet yours.

“Please!” Another shrill appeal from her. “My Lady, help me.” She struggles harder, flopping around like a fish. “Please! He’ll listen to you!”

At her words, Sukuna stops. He turns his head toward you, broken on the floor.

A challenge flickers in his eyes, daring you to act, as if you had any control over him. But that’s impossible. No one tames this man. No one.

He shifts, gaze returning to Sayuri, expression darkening. For a moment, you almost feel sympathy, but then you remember Ren, bleeding out in your chambers, and it’s gone.

Sayuri looks up at the man she claims to love, her voice breaking as she pleads.

“Please… Ryomen—”

At the sound of his epithet, Sukuna aggressively swipes the air in front of her.

A shallow slit drags the length of her throat. Her mouth gapes open, confusion painting her face. She starts to sputter and gag while thin red lines stream from the wound. The trenches of the cut is not deep—just enough to silence her.

“I should have done that long ago,” Sukuna sneers, pulling her struggling form down the corridor. Only the soles of her pale feet are seen as they slowly disappear around a darkened corner.

Alone, a feverish sweat washes over you. Another laboured breath pinches out of your throat, blending with Sayuri’s distant, gurgling cries.

You hear her choke, hear her thrash.

Sukuna chuckles gleefully once more.

There’s a pulse, a slash, a heavy thud as something collapses, and finally, silence.

Your body folds to the ground, cheek pressing against the cool floor, and your eyes close.

Beneath you, footsteps tremble. Four strong arms envelop you, and you whimper as the hold sends a wave of hurt through your body. You’re lifted up, held against something warm and solid. Fingertips gently trail from your temple down to trace the bruising on your neck. You lean into the touch, head lolling into fabric that smells of steel and fire. After that, you remember nothing more.

* * * * *

🔗 Chapter 15

#sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #dark content #heian sukuna #beneath the silk #dark fantasy #jjk fanfic #sukuna smut #true form sukuna #sukuna fanfic #jjk x reader

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intrawebs · 1 year ago

Text

A list of misc. Hermitcraft/Life Series fics from someone who loves AUs

There is no smut on this list

❤️ = Angst 💜 = Fluff 💛 = Fic I recently added

No Romance and Romance Optional

❤️Hermit Hybrids (In Progress Series) by Flickersprout - "Loosely connected fantasy AU with background dystopian elements. Mostly exploring the Hermits as a magic found family and all their different ways of being nonhuman." Can be read in any order! I'd suggest starting with The Colors of Friendship cause it's the earliest chronologically, ZombieCleo's great, and it's a good introduction to the world.

❤️the sanctity of the mundane (Completed Series) by crabbunch - “Snippets of life on the Double Life server; mundanity can reveal the most interesting things about people, after all.” This series makes me crazy. The only happy pairs are Boat Boys and Ranchers hell yeah

From the Archives (Completed Series) by Sixteenthdays and zeph - “A collection of statements from the archives of the Void Institute.” A Hermitcraft/Life Series Magnus Archives AU with Grian as the Head Archivist and Pearl, Mumbo, Scar, and Impulse as his assistants. Can be read with no knowledge of the Magnus Archives.

Interlude From Another Reality: Peacock's Eye by Sixteenthdays and zeph - “‘My assistant,’ announced Scar Goodtimes, newly-promoted Head Archivist of the Peacock's-Eye Institute, to nobody in particular except maybe the paused audio recording software on his laptop, or perhaps the small pile of tape recorders his predecessor'd left piled on a shelf in the corner, or arguably the little peacock-feather eye logo that dotted the office as haphazardly as it did the entire Institute, ‘is weird.’

(In which Scar is Grian's Archivist, and Grian is Scar's assistant.)” Sort of an AU of the Magnus Archives AU? Haha. But it’s completely divorced from the canon and can definitely be read stand alone.

❤️Shining and Polished (But Never to Plan) by SaltyServal - “A cough makes Grian freeze in his tracks, shakes him to his core. Despite all the signs, of all the things he was expecting to find in this cave, a truly sentient creature was not one of them. That’s what scares him the most.

He turns, grabbing his dagger and pointing it at the newcomer, who simply smiles at him, fangs and all.

‘Why hello there.’

tldr; Grian is an avian desperate to keep his wings, and he'll do whatever it takes to save himself. Even if it means stealing from a dragon.

(It turns out there's more to the dragon then he thought).” A fantasy AU with bird!Grian and dragon!Scar

oh captain (let's make a deal) by birrdie - “No one on these shores knew Scar’s name. Aside from Tango, of course. No one feared the humble, white-sailed ship docked on the south side of the port. This, like the tides, would eventually change with time. They would know his name soon enough. The greatest pirates all rose from humble beginnings like a phoenix from ashes. Scar was no different from them; that much he was sure of. And it would not take him long to prove it.

Or; Scar is a Captain of a humble pirate crew of one. That is, until a discovery on the shore shakes things up a bit.” A heaping helping of greedy pirate Scar and mysterious crewmate Grian, with evil Boat Boys and innocent Solidaritek as a garnish.

❤️starry eyes stare through me by whatcaniwriteinthis - "'You know,' he says. 'Gotta have a good show: high stakes, violence—' He nods at the room, at the 24 children learning how to use weapons, how to start a fire, how to find food that won’t kill them.

'An unlikely allyship,' Scar finishes, smiling a little. Grian smirks back.

–

Grian is this year's male tribute from District 9. Clearly, the odds are already not in his favor. But he has to get home to his sister and to do that he has to play the Games. Give them a show. Stay alive. Remember to step out of line is to threaten Pearl. Don't get too attached to the Career that agrees to be his ally, but not to put a damn shirt on." Angst without a happy ending. Made me cry

❤️Stained Glass Sunlight (In Progress Series) by Cosmic_Retribution - “The Watchers had seemed so nice, is the thing. So… disarmingly hospitable.

When they’d set out for the ruins, they’d gone in search of some magical beasts reportedly plaguing the area, according to the flyer they’d taken. What they’d found instead was an empty city and a group of mages and scholars studying… something. They’d been cagey about what. Certainly not the history of the place— the Watchers arrived long after the fall of Dogwarts, content to live and work inside the city’s corpse with no special reverence for the grave it lay ruined in. They had no stake in its fall, or its future, or the preservation of its once-hallowed legacy— but its bones, certainly, served as protection enough for their studies.

The beasts were the only thing troubling the Watchers’ work, or so they’d said. Strange, then, that Grian and his party never once saw a trace of them.

How long after, until his friends realized Grian was gone? That they weren’t safe?

—

Two decades ago, the city of Dogwarts met its demise. Today, a traveler meets god wearing the mask of a merchant, looking for a miracle.

These two things are not as unconnected as they appear.” Grian and Scar’s version of the lamplight AU(below). Featuring bored god Scar and oblivious paladin Grian.

Lamplight (In Progress Series) by skelew - “Welcome to Lamplight, a DnD/Fantasy Third/Last Life Renchanting AU. Ren is a god stuck in the form of living fire. Martyn is his sole follower. Martyn and Ren help free one another from imprisonment by the Watchers and are now traveling the world on a two-man adventure of fond companionship and occasional arson.” There’s angst but really just in the first fic. The main series has no shipping but skelew has written some treebark one shots that are also in the collection.

❤️dandelion wishing by skelew - “The white lily is known to symbolize purity, innocence. It is also a symbol of mourning, a popular choice to decorate the casket at a funeral. This is due to their beauty, yes, as well as the fact their smell can cover up the scent of a decaying body. Dandelions are best known for their magic, but no dandelion survives a wish.

The King of Dogwarts is not dead.” A Martyn and Ren centric fic about coming back from the dead.

❤️Wooden Mausoleum by skelew - “‘To take the life of one you love an agony Martyn understands far too well. It’s not something he’d wish on anyone—not on his worst enemy, and certainly not on his dearest friends.

Least of all would he wish it on Ren.’

Or, for the Red King, there are fates worse than death. How fortunate he is that his Hand will never let him meet them.” Dogwarts makes it to the end of 3rd Life but Martyn has a betrayal arc.

💜Performance Evaluations by glossyblue - “From The Desk Of His Majesty’s Most Private Of Areas: A True And Accurate Evaluation Of Growth Opportunities For The Knights Of The Square Table, The Loyal Court of Ren the King, As Suggested By The HR Department. (Note to self: when did we acquire an HR department? Ask Bdubs.)” Super cute and funny performance evaluations of the knights from the King Ren Hermitcraft arc.

The H.T.G.Y. Files by glossyblue - "Research scientist Cub didn't intend to make a person. He just came up with the plans. But when a competing team looking to make a supersoldier gets hold of the genome he invented, Cub is pulled in to stop them screwing up—and whatever he expected to find, it wasn't someone like Scar." This is part of a series called Lab Escape but the other fic has a ship that's not in this list so I can't put it in. But I really recommend the whole series!

💜The Government Institute for Ghost Supervision (G.I.G.S.) by glossyblue - “HIGHLY SENSITIVE: G.I.G.S CLASSIFIED. Audio logs for a team of supernatural agents investigating reports of a ghost at a local high school.GRIAN: Yeah, Skizz, why did you let Scar set something on fire? Pretty irresponsible.

SKIZZ: [noise of incoherent outrage] You try stopping him, buddy.” Goofy GIGS story

fixed and dilated by iamsolarflare - “Anything waterdwelling knows from bait.

---

Or: xBCrafted deals with the people around him, and a secret he's been keeping for one hell of a long time. Not the ‘old enemies hunting him down’ type, no - this should be fine, as long as nobody pries. It's the way you should deal with secrets like this, really, just don't let people know. No questions, no answers.

Hypno never got that memo, apparently.” An xB and Hypno fic where neither are human and neither wants to talk about it. Even if you don’t watch them I recommend it.

on the getaway mile by Odaigahara - “‘You want me to do what?’ the civilian asked disbelievingly, and Scar’s body language shifted to that of an impatient trainer, one whose fuse was running short. It was a precursor to bad things, like being tased or forced onto a treadmill for hours; Mumbo flinched even knowing it was an act, and the civilian cut off with a squeak, so Mumbo knew he felt the same way.

Or possibly that was the gun. Scar having a gun seemed more likely as an explanation, now that Mumbo thought of it.

Stealing the car would be better, but they had no idea where they were going, and neither of them was familiar with road laws. What if they hit a person while driving? What if there was some sort of kill switch in the car that the owner could flip to blow it up with them inside? Anti-villain tech had to be wild, from what the Foundation had on hand– and they were villains now for sure. Not just for defying the Foundation, but for this. Heroes didn’t take the actions he and Scar were taking.” Heroes Villains Scar and Mumbo take civilian Grian hostage for a road trip! It's not as bad as it sounds

counterclock by scarabies - “When it’s over, Impulse finds him in the throne room.

(or, Bdubs and Impulse chat after a rebellion ends. Can be read as either platonic or romantic.)”

💜Tangotek Evil Incorporated by onawhimsicot - “As the supervillain Dr. Blaze, Tango has a fondness for oddly named "ificators" and stylistic flair. He spends his days trying to take over the city, shaming superheroes for their basic costume designs, and then sending said heroes home with better equipment that actually matches their aesthetic because clearly, if he wants a cool fight scene to happen, he's got to do everything around here himself.

For some reason, not many people think he’s evil. On the bright side, the superhero Canary, does and has made it his personal mission to bring down Dr. Blaze! But when he suddenly goes missing, Canary's partner, Parrot, is convinced that Tango is at fault. Seeing as this is not true at all (kidnapping is so gauche), Tango is offended that someone is trying to steal his nemesis right from under his nose. If Tango wants to get his nemesis back, he'll have to work together with Parrot to find and rescue Canary from whatever danger he's got himself into this time.

Because, after all, what's a supervillain without a nemesis?” A very fun modified Phineas and Ferb AU with Tango as Doofenshmirtz and Jimmy as Perry the Platypus

Scarian

❤️coliseum by artanogon - "Grian is on a mission: kill the Red King of the Third Precinct. Unfortunately, when he travels to the capital where the king resides, he lands in a spot of trouble with a local merchant when he accidentally destroys the merchant’s shop. After he enters into a contract to help pay off the damages, he discovers that there might be another side to Scar under the silver-tongued salesman— and that he’s not the only one who wants the Red King dead." This one made me cry. Bittersweet ending and it gets worse before it gets better.

Picture Perfect, Trapped in Eternity by CloudySkyFlight - “Grian's an architecture major in college, minoring in art history, and when the largest, and supposedly most haunted, collection of royal portraits in the world is displayed in a museum only a few hours away from his dorm, he gets up early to go see it.

Scar's been dead for centuries, living in a royal portrait he cursed to hold his memories and soul, waiting for the moment his best friend would come back to him. Several centuries later, he wakes up to see a brunette that has the looks and soul of his friend, and Scar knows that he cannot let Grian leave without him.” Starts out with Scar sort of kidnapping Grian? But the mood quickly lifts from there

and everything is you by eastwards - “‘Oh my gosh. I’ve got paint on your face.’

Grian moved to wipe the paint off, but Scar shook his head, ‘No the other side, here let me-’

He held Grian’s head steady with one hand, the other carefully brushing across his jaw. With an affirming noise, Scar nodded and bid Grian farewell, as he wandered back to his station in the studio. Grian held his hand up to where he had touched him, feeling his head begin to warm. How troublesome.

–

artist au w/ scarian wooo”

somewhere between the surface and the seabed by LovesickPrince - "It's a classic tale of love: Grian, a mer from the depths of the sea, makes a deal with a sea witch to exchange his voice for a pair of legs and go visit the human whose life he had saved. Only in this case, Grian is more interested in the sea witch than the human.

(If only someone had bothered to tell Scar, the sea witch in question, about this divergence)."

💜Dead Heat by glossyblue - “Jimmy's having a meltdown, Ren and Martyn are flirting outrageously, Tango gets cruelly betrayed and Grian and Scar are being unrepentantly weird about each other in every shot. It's the nation's favourite no-holds-barred elimination game. It is, of course, the Great British Bake Off.”

A Certain Je Ne Sais What by glossyblue - “Literally any one of Grian’s friends would be a better soulmate than Scar, and Grian is going to prove this scientifically.

Grian’s already felt it, a pinprick in his thumb. He’s familiar—he’s so painfully, unforgettably familiar—with the way Scar sees something and is already reaching out to touch it before he’s asked questions like 'what is this' and 'is it bad news' and 'is it going to hurt me, Scar, and by extension the unwilling bystander my physical sensations are now linked to'. Scar just immediately reaches out.” Grian tries to convince himself that anyone else would be a better soulmate than Scar while proving that Scar is the best soulmate for him.

❤️wait the worst is yet to come by glossyblue - “‘Grian is smirking at him. ‘I know, Grian, I know,’ Scar says. ‘Trade by name and trade by nature–okay, Scar by name but still trade by nature–we are going to be in business, opening soon, special rates for favorite customers of course–’

‘But have you done it yet,’ says Grian.

‘No?’ Scar says. ‘We only just started.’

Grian bounces on the balls of his feet, delighted. ‘Okay. Okay, okay, so. You need to know how it works, then, don’t you? Kiss me.’” Scar centric Last Life AU where you transfer lives by making out. There’s a sex scene but it’s not smut. Angst without a happy ending.

heart under your sleeve by Anonymous - “Scar was easy to love, as mortifying as that was to think. Grian didn’t think he was in love with the artist, it was far too soon for that, but he knew it would be easy for anyone to love him.

In the back of his mind, he wondered if Scar had met his soulmate, then shook his head to dispel the thought before it could fully form.

“Look, we can’t bring in a live panda, but if you want, we can try and connect with a zoo in the area so that they can set up a live stream of their panda exhibits,” Grian compromised and Scar brightened again. He ignored the sweeping feeling of relief in his chest as he opened his laptop, typing in a quick search for nearby panda exhibits. “Maybe we can even get one of their handlers in to give a talk about pandas.”

“Perfect!” Scar agreed, putting on a bright grin. Grian smiled to himself in turn.

—

Soulmate AU: You are born with a birthmark, similar to a tattoo, that is shared by your soulmate. Grian is a curator for an art museum. Scar is an eccentric artist who is just as attractive as he is infuriating to work with. Everything goes sideways when Grian realizes they're soulmates.”

💜If you like it… by GoodTimesWithScar - “‘Hello,’ slurs Scar, ‘you wouldn’t happen to know where a man such as myself… would find… an eligible bachelor to spend a little bit of time with?’

Grian blinks. ‘Oh, you are plastered.’

or, the ‘you got so drunk you asked your husband if he was single’ trope, but with added mumbo being 100% done with this nonsense.”

💜Well It’s Not Quite Narnia, But- by Raichett - “It’s just past seven in the morning when Grian opens his built-in wardrobe door to find a man dressed in something close to a green and gold matador outfit standing inside.

---

my ever after / is holding you by LovesickPrince - “Grian has been many things.

Or: Grian is not giving up this dirt-cheap rent flat for anything, not even the strange (if fun) goings on around the place and the elven king coming in through his closet.”

💛Dispossessed by Raichett - “Grian's - kind of, sort of, maybe - a living doll, made of fabric and stuffing. Or, at least, that's what he is to the naked eye. Scar wants to know the truth of the matter. He's also maybe working through some feelings, but that's a whole other thing.

—

Or: Scar contemplates the enigma that is Grian, unknowing that sometimes when one watches, one invites being watched in turn.”

A servant of a respected noble family. A survivor, with bruises on his skin and hidden wings tied down to his back. A rebel, sneaking away for a night of wonder in the heart of the kingdom - and a curiosity, gawked at by all as the King himself swept him into his arms and spent hours by his side.

When Scar spent days tracking Grian down and helping him escape the cruel grasp of the Watchers, Grian thought his life couldn’t surprise him anymore. Pledging his life to serve Scar was all he could do to thank his King.

Of course, being the personal servant of the King comes with its' own risks - and now Grian could add ‘hostage’ to his list of titles.

i live in a hologram with you by remrose - “‘Anyone in there would be lucky to be graced with your company.’ Scar told him. His face was calm but at his sides, his hands tightened and knuckles went white.

Or; someone decides kidnapping King Scar’s beloved servant was a good idea. It really wasn’t.”

💛❤️Bread and Butterflies by Anonymous - “‘You do this thing,’ Mumbo began awkwardly. 'Where when you get worried, you start stalking people.’

‘I don’t stalk people,’ Grian denied immediately.

Or, after the events of 3rd life, Grian finds himself lingering outside Scar’s base.”

💛❤️a little victimless crime by definitelynotshouting - “On a technical level, the rite he’s performing is paltry compared to what he executed all those heady months back– chalk-powder in concentric circles, a matchbook, the potential for flame. Simple. Too simple; any of his old professors (Academy-trained, tried, and true) would have failed him for presenting such a stripped summoning spell. But half the magic lies in intent– with enough bull-headed, scrabbling belief, you can claw anything into a shape of your choosing.

Grian had taught him that.

One breath. Two. No room for doubt– no room for second chances. Scar strikes the match and, with a deft flick of his hand, tosses it into the chalk-powder.”

‘Stop trying to sweet talk me, I've already caught you fleeing.’ Grian stalked another pace forward, eyes alight with mischief and excitement. ‘Where are you going?’” Scar’s bad end in the treesekai AU (which you need to have read to understand).

Treebark

Through the Sky-Blue Cracks (In Progress Series) by Amethystfairy1 - “This is a compilation of all the pieces that take place within my Over-City/Under-City AU, which is also a Hot Guy/Cute Guy Superhero AU, though that's not the only thing that'll be going on!” The first treebark fic is quite a ways down (It’s called Dagger and Rose), but I believe in yalls ability to figure out the setting through context clues.

💜love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books (In Progress Series) by GoodTimesWithScar - “treebark theatre kids au, with ren as the male lead and martyn as the very distracted spotlight operator!”

wild things can't get comfortable by donnerstag - "Ren and Martyn steal what small moments of comfort they can get.

❤️Sgt. Pepper’s Broken Hearts Club Band by harpydora - “The sign next to the door just reads, ‘Support Group,’ which frankly doesn't leave a great impression for the gathering inside. Martyn double-checks the Facebook event on his phone, but he's unfortunately certain he's in the right place: a support group for people whose soulmates are no longer with them.” The double life broken hearts club in a modern AU.

Several loosely-connected scenes from Dogwarts as Ren struggles with his feelings towards the Hand of the King."

What will that something be? Well don’t look at me, I’m the one who wrote it. Look at yourself, and ask yourself: Why don’t I know?

Scribbling the lines (from you to me) by Siri_Spy - “Martyn and Cleo are soulmates… but what exactly does that mean for them? And with Martyn starting to fall for the over-the-top president of his RPG club, and Cleo starting to realize that they might be a little late to the ‘disgustingly in love’ phase… something needs to change.

Exactly. That’s what I’ve been wondering. Anyway, what are you still doing here? Go read!” A really sweet modern AU about Cleo and Martyn.

The Not Ghost of the Castle (he is a very dedicated cosplayer, thank you very much) takes a liking, and possibly some recognition, to Martyn, and while he spends the night terrorising Martyn's friends, the two of them build an unlikely bond and friendship.

not the ghost by csillagvizsgalo - “Martyn tags along with his friends on a ghost hunting trip (he has seen people who had weirder hobbies anyways) for fun in an old run-down castle museum that has definitely not been kept properly. It's all fun and games, and he definitely doesn't believe in the supernatural, so it's not scary at all, until he starts noticing things lying around in areas that nobody has been to in ages, that remind him of memories of events that he never experienced, hundreds of years ago. The voices aren't helping. Well, the one Voice.

The Red King just wants to rest, and so does Martyn. But not everything is as easy as it first seems.” Ren pulls out all the stops to try and intimidate Martyn but Martyn is a little rude to him and completely ruins it.

Wild Life: A Conservation Podcast by donnerstag - “Ren and Martyn, hosts of a popular little nature and conservation podcast, go camping together as part of a season finale special; discussions of the future, for both the show and themselves, ensue. Featuring: a campfire! innuendos! and even a little bit of kissy, perhaps?”

A Romance Route For The Doomed Villain?!? by skelew - “These days, Martyn doesn’t really have a lot going on. This is where the dating sim comes in.

Granted, if Martyn knew he was going to die so soon, he maybe would have tried a little harder at, like, holding down a job. Or maybe not. It's not like he has a lot of time to think about it.

Or, Treebark Isekai Romance Parody Which I Spent Far Too Much Time On.”

❤️I Think I’ve Seen This Film Before by GoodTimesWithScar - “In which Martyn fails to get the guy - but he doesn't let that stop him for long.” Set in the treesekai AU (the fic above), which you need to read to understand.

—

💜I should’ve known it would be you - water/woods by theorionsound - “Martyn sort of expected to fall in love with Ren eventually.

On their bi-annual hiking trip, Ren and Martyn get lost in thought. Mainly about eachother.”

'Sure.' There was something knife-bright in Martyn’s eyes. 'And I’m a good little Southlander now.'

❤️To Sit in Hell With You by dirtybinary - "Ren pulled Martyn close, breathing in the smell of soot and cinders still clinging to his clothes. 'You never kept secrets from me, back at Dogwarts.'

Martyn's playing every side in the death game. He's a loose cannon, he's a wild card, he's a selfish bastard who's going to betray everyone in the end, even Ren. Probably. Most likely. Any minute now."

Solidaritek

💜Red Bandit AU (In Progress Series) by scribblingdragon - “A Empires Season 2 AU with Jimmy as the Sheriff of Tumble Town, and Tango as a local bandit that is slowly, forcefully, being domesticated. Shenanigans ensue from there.”

❤️💜Hels To Pay AU (In Progress Series) by aquaquadrant and lunarcrown - “Angsty Tango-centric Hermitcraft/Double Life SMP AU”

❤️The Highwayman by EnvelopedByOblivion - “Fate walks many paths - but for each person, it only wears one face. Sheriff Jimmy Solidarity’s fate is a handsome red-eyed highwayman who saves Jimmy from a group of bandits. Despite being on opposite sides of the law, something keeps bringing them together, tangible as gravity and inevitable as death.

💜Let Me Show You Everything I Know by MassiveWaffle - "Jimmy Solidarity is an ordinary guy. He goes to his grad school classes during the day, works at the campus library in the evenings, and neglects his friendships a little too much. Then, engineering student Tango enters the library for some help, and Jimmy finds his friend group growing, and his life inexplicably changed."

Which will get to them first? What will win out – a growing relationship between them, or their obligations to the life they’ve chosen for themselves?”

💛💜Tangotek Evil Incorporated’s Masterful Schemes (for wooing the Canary) by Tiny_Minecraft_Rabbit - “Dr. Blaze, like all good supervillains, has a nemesis. One that he hates, of course. The Canary is always meddling in his plans to be evil after all! Supervillains don't like their nemeses. Except, for some reason, no one believes him that he despies the guy! Sure the Canary takes him seriously when no one else does and laughs at his jokes and has these bright brown eyes that light up when he figures out how to escape Tango's traps and... and Tango might, just maybe, like the Canary more than he thought.

Well, now he has a new problem: confessing those feelings.”

A Nestcommunication by YacintheMorning - “Tango just wants to make the ranch a home for both him and his avian soulmate. Unfortunately, he knows almost nothing about avians. But the least he can do is try, right?” In which Tango is accidentally way too forward.

💜A Lesson in Listening by YacintheMorning - "Grian's brother is moving to town and staying with him while he house hunts. While introducing him to his friend, however, Jimmy and Tango seem to make quite a connection. Determined not to suffer through the pining, Grian and Impulse attempt to play matchmaker."

Unfortunately, this panicked Jimmy at first.

💜He loves that horse by ThatTallQueerBassist - “Tango uses his horse training knowledge to get Oreo back in shape after all the drama of being stolen back and forth.

He quickly calms down once he finds Tango training Oreo just outside the walls of their ranch.

They chat, and everything is well in the world again.”

SmallEtho

❤️The Best Soulmate by BlocksRuinedMe - “‘But everyone else didn’t know that - it was possible even Bdubs didn’t know that - and yet he carried on like that, all the time. All about Joel’s soulmate. Bdubs didn’t respect Joel, and fuck that.

Fuck that.

Joel had been fantasizing about killing Bdubs for weeks.’

—

The Boat Boys have made it to the end of Double Life, standing with Impulse and Bdubs, watching the divorce quartet crumble. Joel has a plan to make Etho win Double Life, whether Etho likes it or not.” Joel being an unreliable narrator because rage clouds his thinking is really something I wish there was more of. You definitely want to read the tags before diving into this one btw.

Holy Father, judge my sins by giddyfenix - "Joel and Etho as the seven deadly sins. After all, what were they if not corrupted?" The lust chapter has a sexual scene, obvs, so skip that if you so wish.

A list of facts and problems by giddyfenix - “Joel had never realized it was possible to feel someone in your bones until Etho came along.”

Amores anacrónicos by giddyfenix - “Don’t be further than 10 blocks from Etho for 10 minutes. One attempt only.”

You held his hands, it felt like flying by Prudent_seer - “Etho doesn't believe in soulmates. Doesn't believe in fate, destiny or an invisible little string tying two people together indefinitely. It was ridiculous, maddening even to think of two people who were made for one another; made perfect for each other by the "universe's almighty will". With that being said, he had someone in mind that was pretty damn close. So when Grian threw them in a world where these soulbounds did in fact exist in a tangible form, where health and pain was shared with someone else, he sought out the person whom he thought was his match. Only to literally fall into the life of his actual soulbound.

It was Joel. And with that Etho cursed the universe for its twisted sense of humour.

Creative rewrite of double life through the eyes of Etho, who learns to love his soulmate.” There’s sex but it’s not smut, you know what I mean?

when everything burns, they burn together by TheYesterdayShow - “No one for Joel because he's always been a loner. For as long as he can remember he's been on his own in these games—in the first one he had his cottage on the hill (so long ago that he can barely remember what it looked like, he can only remember it burning and the flames licking up at him and melting his skin and the smell of his hair and he has to put it out—), and in the games since, he's been alone. Alliances that last little more than a week, here and there, and somehow he always ends up at Grian's side at the end of things, but he's never actually teamed up with anyone else.

He doesn't want a soulmate.”

etho has said parkour tag! by panch_owo - “Neither Cyan or Aqua make it to finals, which means the rest of the event is unimportant!

And instead of dwelling on their non-team, they go on another round of tag because it's them.” No smut but a lot of innuendo and tension

More Powerful Than Fear Itself Is The Will To Win by smoothlikebutter - "After a devastating crash ends Etho’s racing career with the McLaren Formula One team, he’s forced to take significant time off to recover. While his fans are eager to see him again soon, what they don’t know is that Etho’s crash was worse than reported; he had to re-learn how to walk and talk before he could even think about racing again. But the desire to get back in a racing car is a strong motivation, so Etho pushes himself to his limits… However, his team couldn’t wait forever. His replacement is talented and the endless competition of motorsports is ruthless. Now Etho has to prove to his old team— and to the whole world— that they were too quick to forget about him. And what better place than the 24 Hours of Le Mans?

ConCorp is eager to snap up a big name like Etho. They’re entering under the Garage 56 innovative category this year, and their CEOs aren’t interested in much more than publicity so the pressure is low. But they’ve also signed Joel, a ruthless pro endurance racer who isn’t about to settle for anything less than the top step of the podium and a champagne shower at the end of the race. And honestly? That’s exactly the kind of teammate that Etho needs." Had me dancing around my room with excitement. Etho's character arc is amazing.

We're a Couple of Freaks by smoothlikebutter - "Joel is a weapon. Etho is also a weapon. They're professional monster hunters, and they've got a job to do tonight: clear out a ton of undead from an abandoned old mansion. Simple, right? This could only possibly go wonderfully well.” Epic Smalletho Souleater AU

❤️Blurring The Lines by FountainPenguin - “Dad always goes overboard with presents. They're never something traditional that a kid would ask for, either. It's always something he had left over in the back of his truck after a project or something stupid he bought after sipping a few too many potions and regretted sober.

One year for Scar's birthday, when he and his cousin Grian were playing in the sandbox out back, Dad and his friends arrived unannounced with four oak saplings. Dad didn't grab his arm or anything (Dad basically never touched him except on rare occasion to brush sand from his hair before loading him in the car; he always said it would make Mom mad), but he used words and praise and empty promises to drag Scar away from his and Grian's game to plant them right away.

Maybe Dad gave so many gifts because he was never around in summer. As early as April, he spent every weekend out fishing with his cousin on his houseboat...

AKA - That Scar-centric standalone piece about the Clocker family in contemporary suburbia.”

And goodness you’re bleeding (What a wonderful feeling) by knightinshiningarmor - “When the relationship burns, Etho feels an intense burst of emotions that leads to a revelation.”

#masterlist #fic rec #scarian #treebark #solidango #solidaritek #smalletho #hermitcraft fanfic #trafficshipping #traffic life fanfic #life series fic #can u tell i watched double life first? lol

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year ago

Note

DIN+59! DUDE CONGRATS ON THE FOLLOWING YOU DESERVE IT!!!!

[a/n: thank you!!!! This is also a practice in me trying to limit my word count and the first drabble of this weekend I finish on exactly 500 words lolol.]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: non descriptive violence, cursing

Word Count: 500

Dialogue Prompt #59: "I need your help." + "Why do I feel like this is more than a small favor?"

“I need your help.”

The request tumbled out of your lips in a jumbled heap as you fell into the seat right across from him. Din paused in cleaning up the mess Grogu had made of his dinner to stare at you. You were a regular at this cantina, which Din didn’t fully understand considering what a scud hole the cantina was, but Din was now a regular because of your frequent visits. Anytime he was in Mos Espa, or even near it, he stopped by. In the multiple visits he had collected, all Din knew about you was that you were clever smuggler, you were a witty smooth talker, and you were the biggest trouble magnet on this side of the galaxy.

Din took note of the sheepish tilt to your lips and energy crackling in your pretty eyes. He blew out a sigh, “Why do I feel like this is more than a small favor?”

“It’s a medium favor at best, Mando.” You reassured him in the least reassuring way. Everything about your life was a hurricane of chaos and disasters. Two things Din typically tried to stay clear of, yet he found himself more and more drawn to you. “When the guy with a bad haircut comes over with his Trandoshian buddy, I need you to say yes.”

“Why am I saying yes?” Din demanded.

“Because we’re best friends, obviously.”

“You don’t even know my name.”

You pointed at him. “Hey, that’s not fair. I only don’t know it because you won’t tell me. So, not my fault.” You nodded a head toward his son who chirped in excitement at seeing you again. “Grogu wants you to help me.”

“Buir help.” Grogu repeated the word from your mouth.

He let out an irritated grumble, but it came from a growing grin under his helmet. Seconds later, two men stormed over. They kicked over chairs and shoved aside other cantina regulars. The first man, a human with a haircut so extraordinarily bad that Din wondered if it had stemmed from an assault of shears, slammed his hand on the table. “Hey!” He growled. “You serious about this!?”

“Yes?” Din offered.

Both men bristled, and you jumped out of your chair to shove the human. “See? I told you my boyfriend was gonna kick your ass, you sleemo piece of shit!”

“Wait, what??” Din blurted. Grogu, without pause, hit the button on his pram and the doors slid shut just as the Trandoshian threw the first punch. The cantina crowd cheered as Din ducked under the punch, retaliated, then was tackled by the human into the table⏤ the furniture collapsed in a pile of splinters and debris. As Din wrestled the human, he spotted you sneaking over to the Trandoshian to rummage through the guy’s vest. You pulled out an unfamiliar item, sliding it into your own pocket, and shot him a bright grin with a solid thumbs up.

You were chaos incarnate, but Maker did Din want you.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #reader insert #mando x reader #mando x you #2130 celebration!

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sofiiel · 1 year ago

Text

Cryptid!Eddie x Reader | PART FOUR

⇠Part 1 | Part 3 | Next⇢

Warnings: Violence. Hurt/Comfort.

A/n: working on a masterlist as soon as I can think of a decent title. My proofreading skills are still atrocious.

Nature called and was calling swiftly, you scrambled from your bed and ran for the bathroom. Nearly tripping over a stray pile of blankets in the middle of the floor.

Happily relieved, you exit the bathroom.

"Wait...a pile of..."

Your eyes fell on the heaped blankets. All of them the ones you'd used for Eddie, all except one.

Your eyes scanned your studio, in the dark glow of the setting moon, it seemed empty.

"Eddie?" you called out. Though he would have been hard to miss.

"Maybe he's downstairs?" you reason with yourself before you worry., heading for the lift.

Though downstairs, as the doors opened, you were hit with the strong breeze pushing through the window curtains. Orange and auburn leaves dance about the bakery floor, more fluttering in by the second.

Your eye hone in on the gagged glass, the hole far bigger than what the brick damaged. It was specifically monster sized.

With eyes the size of saucers, you spend little time rushing back to the lift, going back for your coat. "I swear, if you've eaten Toad -" you utter under your breath.

Shinning the flashlight away from the map and onto your watch, you grimaced at the time.

"This is stupid, he's a giant, he's perfectly fine. Toady goes out on her own all the time, she probably wigged out the window and he probably..."

You exhaled and drew in a gulp of the crisp, chilled air, "burst through the rest of the glass of the shop window like a cartoon character for the hell of it."

No, it still didn't sound convincing to your core.

With a sigh, you steal a glance at the sky above, you wouldn't have long until sunrise.

Already at the edges of town, you shine your light into a thicket. "Eddie? You out there somewhere?" you whisper. It wasn't the first time you'd asked, but you were holding onto hope. After all, your next place to search wasn't one you loved the idea of.

An answer never came, and nothing shifted in the dark. Your teeth sink tentatively into your lip. "I should just go home and wait." you tell yourself.

Groaning her stamp your feet, "I can't."

You now had a long walk to the very edge of town, where the stalks of corn loomed like a pale forest all its own.

"It's taller than I thought it'd be." you murmured. Eyes glued to the corn field, a hand reaching to push aside a few stalks.

Across the gravel road, the fields shifted lightly, rustling. Your skin prickled, and a shiver shook your spin. You check the tree top to find them dancing in the breeze.

"Wind, stop freaking yourself out." you cold yourself. "Let's just get this over with. If he's not here, you go home." you sighed, venturing into the fields.

"Two rules, don't get lost or caught trespassing." you remind yourself, clicking on your light.

Moments after pushing through the thick sea of corn, you came upon trampled ground.

You moved along carefully, but the ground was oddly uneven, sinking every so slightly. Though there was no sign of mud.

Stalks were snapped and folded down and pressed deep into the earth.

Lost in your concentration, you are left unaware of the shifting of corn at your side. Carefully creeping behind you.

Deep into the fields now, you'd lost the trail.

"Damn it." you hiss. Dirt and dust kick up as you turn about, you try to retrace your steps, "just go back, you missed something."

A tin, piercing screech jolts your body, your head turns left and right as you hold your flashlight up as a weapon.

Though, after a beat, nothing happens. Your fight instinct is left disappointed, and you try to calm your racing heart.

"What was that-"

"arhowh!"

Looking down at your feet with mouth slack, you spot a bristled Toad.

She howled at you yet again, her thin patchy curls stood straight while she backed up against you. Her back arched high.

That was never a good sign, bending down, you scooped her into your arms and held her firmly. Your gaze drawn to the direction she faced her fury.

You slowly move backwards, trying to put distance between the two of you and whatever might have given her a fright.

"She isn't afraid of Eddie, so, what's out there? She hates dogs. A guard dog maybe?" your thoughts buzz in your brain.

Though they are muted swiftly but the solid wall at your back.

Your ears tingle at the low growl above you, the guttural rumble bellowed from deep within its core. You held tight to Toad, though she seemed oddly calm, while you cast your shaky gaze up to meet a family face with foreign eyes.

Eddie's eyes capped in white shimmered under the half moon like pearls in the sun. But he didn't acknowledge your presence, his gaze fixed on the disturbance in the corn ahead of you.

"What's going on with your-"

He released another deep growl that rose into a shrill bellow. Eddie's lips parted, and out from them bloomed a warped flower. Flaring to show rows of needled teeth.

You nearly crushed Toad to you, and while your fear spiked into a weight you should feel settle into your limbs, she was calm still.

Another bellow answered Eddie's roar. Whirling about on wobbling knees you gasp at the faceless creature, it sported twice as much muscle as Eddie while they matched in size.

"Oh," you gasp, sucking air into your terror crushed lungs. "My god."

You hit the dirt, flung to the side as Eddie bounded forward. He and the other monster, colliding with audible force.

Gurgled snarls and flapped snaps sounded in the night. Your eyes couldn't focus fast enough to follow the fight. Whimpers and growls broke between the odd hollow yowl.

"They look similar, why aren't they friends?" You thought, feeling the blood your teeth had drawn from your tongue.

"Because they're probably fighting over their food." said the little voice in the back of your head.

"But if that were true, he would have snatched me up and ran. It would be easier than a fight." you muttered, hugging Toad.

With a sound like screeching tires coming from his throat, Eddie is flung. You watch breathlessly as his large body flew over your head, landing into the fields with a dull thud. Dirt and broke stalks fly into the air.

"Eddie!" you called out, getting to your feet with your cat. Toad now digging her claws into your skin.

As you ran for Eddie, the second monster made chase.

"I can't bring this thing back to him if it's just gonna kick his ass!" you thought, changing your course into a new direction.

"Please go to the road!" you panted.

Though, as with how the night was going, you were faced with trees.

"fu-"

Beating and whooshing assaulted your ears. Wind kicked up dust and fallen foliage around you. A quick pain clamped into your shoulders, liquid seeping from around the talons hook into your flesh.

Your scream is strangled in your throat, knotted into silence as you find yourself torn from the ground below you. Rising higher into the air at concerning speeds.

Daring to look above you, you find Eddie, his haunting eyes snarling at the creature below you.

"That's right, It doesn't have your wings." you murmur.

But did this mean you were, in fact, food?

You winced at the tearing pain in your shoulders. Eddie growled one last time before rising further into the sky, taking you and Toad with him.

Holding to Toad firmly, you watched the long drop below you. Unable to decided which was worse, death by tree impalement or as a monster's meal.

Looking up at Eddie, you watched him glance down at you. His eyes seemingly honed in on the blood soaking the fabric of your shirt. He licked his lips in the way a wolf licks its maw after a meal.

"E-eddie?" you stammered.

"It's um, thanks, that was an n-nice save back there bud!" your words chirp out. Maybe you could convince him, remind him you're a friend.

"The shop is the other way, though."

He snarled at you, and your mouth snapped shut.

"Ok, ok. shutting up." you whispered.

"Ah!" you land with pain searing through your shoulder, rocks lodging in a few of the deep, narrow tears.

Scooting away from Eddie as he crawled towards you on all fours. One of your arms cradled Toad while the other aided your escape. Your fingertips dip into freeze water.

Glancing over your shoulder, you take in the small pool of water. You gaze, following the cliff behind it upwards.

You gulped, far below the topside.

In your mind you could recall your map, "this might be the quarry." you thought.

"It would be a good place for a den of sorts."

You broke your thoughts, Eddie was much closer now. His shadow hovering above you, blotting out the light of the moon. He opened his mouth wide, revealing four sets of fangs.

It was only now you'd spotted the dried blood around his lips, crusting his cheeks.

"I'm not food! We, we're roommates! Um...sort of!" you cry out.

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears and feel it in your fingertips as you back away, water soaking into your pants. You'd crawl right into the water if you had to.

Glaring at Eddie, you stopped, "I helped you. Right?" you tried to reason with the wildness in his eyes. Once fixed on your wounds with a primal hunger, they flickered to look at your face.

"So you helped me. I am. Not. Food. Damn it!" your words flow out demandingly.

Eddie's uncanny movement with the tilt of his head was worrying. It was everything horror movies had taught.

But in his eyes, you did not see the same soul you'd seen when you'd first met him. He wasn't a part of himself at this moment. It was much like looking into a picture rather than the physical person.

"This isn't you." you breathed in realization.

"It's some, 'on the night of the full moon' or 'bloodlust' bullshit." you uttered, looking up at him.

Your eyes, however, get sucked in by the deep claw marks near his ribs. The monster had cut into old scar tissue from healed wounds. Without thought, you find yourself reaching forward.

Your fingertips graze the wound past the torn toga, tipping in thick blood, before you press your palm against them.

Eddie froze, the pearlescent cap over this eyes fading away slowly. He flinched, though not at the pain.

"____?" he questioned quietly. Voice hardly a whisper as it trembled.

He sat back, and examined his hands and feet, both coated in two types of blood.

Unable to find words, you focus on the water glistening in his eyes.

"I didn't-"

You shook your head, "no, but if we're honest, you might have." you answered.

Eddie backed away, "you should run." he warned, a hand clutching her stomach. "I didn't feed enough, it won't be long before things get bad again."

"Feed? Blood?" you questioned.

Eddie shook his head, hair falling into his face, unable to look you in the eye.

"No." his words held an ache of shame in them.

You give your dry lips a lick and try to speak steadily, "Take me home. I have meat at home. Raw in the shop freezer."

He continued to hang his head. "If you can still walk, you should-"

"You just fucked up my shoulders, I hauled my ass on foot out here to find you. You're taking me home." you fought. Words not of anger but fear, If you couldn't get him to come back - something in your gut told you he'd never be seen again.

"That look on Lucas' face when it was you. The way he talked about this friend Dustin and your uncle. They need you." you thought.

"You can fight whatever is happening. You can, you didn't feed the night before, right?" you said.

Eddie frowned, "I was exhausted, that's all." he said.

"And you're not now? You tussled with that, that thing. It threw you around like a pillowcase. You should be." You pressed.

Eddie dug his claws into the dirt, his body trembling.

"You don't want to be given up on. Because if you did, you'd be the one to leave."

With your words, he crawled towards you, pressing his forehead to your shoulder.

You finally released Toad, wrapping Eddie's head in your arms, and the act cause his tears to spill over, splashing against your shirt. His tail wrapping around you.

"This is why I hid." he croaked.

"It could have been Wayne, it could have been Dustin, the guys. And I'd-" Eddie rambled in a hoarse whisper. His words faded into a loud sob. "I didn't ask to be this way."

You batted your eyes to fight the salty sting, they were words you'd heard before. Words that cracked something inside at the memory of the sweetest smile you knew, filled with agony.

The memory of a goodbye you'd only recognized when it was too late.

"Eddie, take me back." you spoke quietly.

You stroked his hair comfortingly. "Lucas is coming in the morning and the sun will be up soon. If we go now, no one will see you on the way back." you reason.

Eddie pulled his head away and peered up at you.

His eye searched your face, were you serious? You meant it?

"I'm cold, and we need to do something about these wounds." you said.

He nodded slowly, and got to his feet, lifting his arms the wings beneath them flared and Eddie took to the sky.

You hugged Toad once again and awaited the pain to return to your shoulders. Though this time, Eddie's talon curled gently into them, leaving the skin unbroken.

He took to the sky with you, sharing the same care a gator might while carrying its young in its mouth.

"You were one thousand percent dinner." you thought to yourself at the stark change. Opting to look at the ground below you rather than focus on the terror you'd faced.

Up in your studio, Eddie watched you from a distance, quietly devouring the meat you'd taken out of the shop freezers. It wasn't what his body needed, but maybe it would be enough to help him fight the monster inside.

Toad excused herself long ago to lay on your bed as you patched Eddie and yourself up as best you could. You'd finished wrapping your shoulder and sighed.

Your nerves finally decided to relax.

Eddie finished the last of his meat and stared at his claws, he'd washed them clean as well as the talons of his feet. He couldn't shake the thought, "there's another one out there."

He'd thought the creatures of that place had been run off after the battle.

"But you weren't here for any of that, so you don't know for sure. Some might have survived. You did, didn't you..." he murmured to himself.

"What was that?" you asked him.

Eddie looked up in surprise, "I didn't you could hear me." he confessed.

Setting down your medical supplies, you went to him carefully, "wait, you're saying that the rumors about this town. They aren't just rumors?" you asked him.

Eddie stared at you with a level gaze, his expression leaving his face. "You've seen me. Is it hard to believe?" He asked back.

You sat at his feet from where he sat on the sofa. Looking at his face, into his eyes. Your own eyes narrow slightly, "What happened to you?" you asked him.

Eddie met your gaze, "I tried to be something I knew I wasn't and became everything they all thought I was." he said.

You exhaled, "what does that have to do with, with the bombs and chemical warfare?" you asked.

A large question mark took over Eddie's face. "T-that's not what happened." he said, anger taking over his features, "if that what's been said?" he asked.

"Yeah, the town was evacuated when the fallout floated into it and the military moved in to neutralize-"

Eddie growled, "No!" he shouted.

"Innocent people died because of, Venca! All that shit behind those gates. Someone should have made that public!" he raged.

"Wheeler wouldn't have let it slide....not without a reason..." he then whispered.

You blinked several times, "Vecna?" you asked carefully. "That sounds like a new flu."

"That would have been easier." Eddie muttered.

"So then, what really happened?"

"That would take all night," he sighed.

"Uh, I'm not sleeping after tonight anyway. I've got time, and I'm not going to be lost when 'everyone' shows up tomorrow." you pressed.

When the sun finally took to the sky, the studio was left in silence. Eddie was all too happy to let you stew on the story he'd told. It was clear in your eyes there was a lot to take in, and in his eyes you could see the recounting made him weary.

You watched the cream swirl into your drink, steam rising to caress your nose.

"Jesus...I suddenly regret not believing dad. If all this could be true, there's no telling what else in this world is." you thought.

"Are you alright?" Eddie called out to you, watching as you spaced out.

"I should be asking you the same thing. I'm not the one who went through a whole sci-fi saga in a handful of days, then for years ever after." you murmured.

Your brows knitted together. "What are we going to do about your, eh, hunting episodes?" you questioned.

Eddie shrugged, "Hell if I know. Last night I tried leaving as far away from town as I could. That's what I've done for years. But it's getting harder to stay lucid enough to manage that."

He then looked down at his claws, "If that thing hadn't showed up, I probably would have gone to the farms to find....someone." he confessed.

You shuddered, eyes falling on the worn necklace chain around his neck.

"Hey, can I see that?" you questioned, running your hand along your neck.

Eddie peered down at his chain, wordlessly he reached back and tried to unclasp it. It was a struggle, and there was no way it was happening on his own.

Under different circumstances, you would have laughed.

Going to him, you shifted his hair and offered to help.

"Maybe we should file those claws down a little, to make it easier for you to maneuver." you said.

"I tried," he sighed, "on trees, rocks, metal they're super tough."

Slipping the chain from around his neck you examined it, "it might work or at least give us a warning." you muttered.

Eddie watched you perplex as you wandered off behind your divider.

Once again, you dug into your trunk. A soft tinkle chiming from the bottom as you shifted its contents. "Come on, I hear you." you whispered, continuing to dig.

Finally, you felt the cool metal surface, your mind vividly imagining the silver little object.

Sitting back, you slipped the musical ball onto Eddie's necklace and held it up with a hint of a smile.

It jingled as you returned to him, holding it up.

"A bell?" he asked.

"Before you say it, I'm not nuts. This is a good idea for now, if you let me explain." you rushed.

Eddie remained silent.

"I used this bell when potty training Toad. She was feral when I adopted her and pissed indoors all the time. My brain is trained to wake up when I hear this thing." you explained.

"So when I try to leave in the night,"

"I can wake up and try to get you to calm down or try to get you something that will help your um...your midnight munchies." you said.

Eddie shifted his hair and leaned forward, "I'll try it." he said.

You smiled and quickly went to help him place the belled necklace back on.

When you were done, you stepped away and Eddie glanced up at you. "I owe you one," he said. "Or like forty."

Reaching out his hand, he stopped short of touching your shoulder, his claws twitched, and he drew his hand back.

You stopped him, letting your fingers take hold of his hand, you brought it to your shoulder and pressed his palm to it.

"You can only hurt me, hurt people, if you will it. You have to stop being afraid of yourself." you spoke with solid words. He could not look at you.

"You've seen what I can do."

"Yeah, I saw you stop." You pressed her palm closer.

"You have to trust yourself, you didn't hurt me on the way back here. You knew better than you did when whatever happened, happened."

Eddie gazed at the floor and you sighed heavily.

"Whatever is going on, no matter if you want it or not - and I know it has to feel so strange," you released his hand and stooped to meet his eyes.

"It's your body, It's the thing that houses who you are. You have the ability to decide how it moves, for now. It might feel alien to you, but you can tame that, work with that, learn how to make it feel more like you." you reasoned.

Eddie watched you intently, he flexed his fingers.

"It won't be easy, but you'll need to try. You don't want to give up. You want your life back, your friends. They're coming to see you, which means they want you back, too. Your biggest hurdle in that will be yourself."

Eddie blinked away the onslaught of tears that threatened to roll past his eyelashes. Chucking softly as he did so.

"Yoda, for sure." he laughed quietly.

You smiled and narrowed your eyes a bit, "I just got you back inside, you are already aiming to get put out?" you teased.

Eddie shook his head and looked up at you, something hopeful in the reflection of his eyes.

"I'd like to stay." he said, it fell from his mouth like prayer.

"Then don't call me Yoda." you hummed, turning to head for the kitchen.

"We're all going to need comfort food by the end of this reunion of a meet up." you added.

⇠Part 1 | Part 3 | Next⇢

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #cryptid!eddie x reader #demo!eddie x reader #eddie fic #sofiiel cryptid!fic #no reader physical descriptors #no use of y/n #eddie munson fic

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oleander-nin · 2 years ago

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Cold Hands, Warm Heart(Rise! Raph x Reader)

3777 words of complete and utter nonsense. I've never written for Raph before, so I hope I did well

Summary: Your heater broke down in the dead of winter. Hopefully Raph won't mind you hanging out with him for the time being.

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

My eyes flutter open as a chill runs down my spine, the heap of blankets paired with my warm pajamas not doing enough to fight against the cold. I shuffle a bit in my bed, trying to get comfortable again so I could fall back asleep. Winter has taken hold over New York, and the cold was finally starting to creep into my apartment. With my heater being busted at the moment, there was nothing I could really do except try and tough it out through blanket nests and warm foods. The company apparently can’t send someone to fix it until Friday, so waiting it out is kind of my best option. I glanced over at the digital clock that sits snugly on my nightstand, the bright and bold numbers flashing the unfortunate time of 3:22 AM staring me down, serving as a constant reminder of my inability to get some rest.

I shift under the covers once more, avoiding the cold spots created by the lack of body heat. It’s times like these I start to regret letting Leo borrow the heated blanket I bought a couple years ago. Guilt starts to pile up in my stomach for daring to think that, as I know he must have it worse right now. Even though they are warm blooded, all the turtle brothers tend to be more susceptible to both hot and cold than the average person. Lending Leo my precious heated blanket was a noble sacrifice I had to make if it means he’s getting through this winter a bit easier. Too bad I’ll most likely never see it again, stupid blanket stealing jerk.

My eyes finally start to droop as the drowsiness kicks in a bit more, my mind bouncing from Leo’s blanket thievery to Donnie’s recent invention to Raph’s kind nature, and the serotonin that came with the final thought was starting to knock me out once again.

I came to realize my crush on the giant snapping turtle about a year after we met, and he’s been at the forefront of my mind ever since. Even if his tall stature was a bit intimidating at first, his personality proved to me that he was just a giant teddy bear. A teddy bear with built in spikes, a dash of violence, and separation anxiety, but a teddy bear no less.

I lay my head against my arms, shifting the cocoon of blankets around me to try and keep the heat inside so I could stay warm. Feeling my body giving into the fatigue that held it in its grasp was comforting, and I hoped I could sleep till the sun’s up. Constantly waking up to a dark room was starting to make my overactive mind run through the possibilities of ghosts, demons, and murderers that might be in my room with me.

My eyes shoot open as I hear my phone start ringing, the familiar tune cluing me in to who’s calling. Raph. I launch my arm out of my warm blankets and aimlessly feel around for my phone. The cold of the room starts to seep into the opening my arm makes, and I grit my teeth at the unpleasant feeling. My hand finally feels the slick rubber of my phone case, and I quickly yank it back into my makeshift warmth pocket. I answer the call as I put the phone up to my ear, grinning giddily as I greet the snapping turtle on the other side.

“Um, hey. Sorry to wake ya’,” he starts, and I note the grogginess and nervousness that seems to seep into his voice. “I know it’s late, but I was wondering if ya’d like to come over? I had a nightmare, but don’t wanna’ bother any’a brothers right now, they haven’t gotten much sleep as of late.”

I smile softly at his words, knowing the double meaning behind them. He had another nightmare about the Kraang, and he doesn’t want his brothers to see that he’s still suffering. “Yeah, I’ll be over in a second. I’m assuming I can go straight to your room, or do you want me to meet you in the living room?” After the Kraang invasion, Raph’s been having nightmares, and I appreciated that he trusted me enough to ask for help.

“Kitchen, actually. I’ve started making some hot cocoa, and I’m not too keen on drinking it anywhere else. A bit worried I’d spill it, and most cleaning supplies are in Dee’s lab.”

“Okie dokie, I’m heading over now.” I hang up the phone and take a glance around my room. Turning on the flashlight function on my phone, I get up and stretch a bit. The cold air washes over me like a tsunami, and I curl into myself a bit. I almost forgot about the cold while Raph was calling, and it’s taking its revenge by ravaging my body with shivers.

I use the flashlight feature on my phone to help guide me through my room, and I turn on the light once I reach it. I rapidly blink a couple of times, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the sudden bright light faster. Once the world is a bit more clear, I trudge my way over to my closest. I really don’t want to have to change. Raph won’t mind me showing up in PJ’s, right? I mean, it is 3:30 in the morning, so it can’t be that weird. Making up my mind, I grab my jacket and put it on, throwing it over my shoulders as I turn off the light and head to leave my apartment after grabbing my keys. I really hope no one else is awake.

I speed walk down the dimly lit hallway, glancing over my shoulder as I go. The apartment I lived in was relatively safe, but one could never be too sure. Hell, the 2 guys that lived next door got mugged last week. Sure they were across town leaving a pub, but one could never be too cautious.

Leaving the apartment complex, I quickly head for the alley a couple blocks away. I knew there was a sewer hole there, and I wanted to get down to the lair as fast as I could, the cold was killing me. I inwardly cheer as I make it to the sewer plate, mentally patting myself on the back for not getting jumped. Not that I actually did anything, but still, it’s the little things.

Checking to make sure no one's around, I take the robot I got from Donnie out of my pocket and set it on the manhole cover. As manhole covers can weigh up to 250 pounds, Donnie gave me and April these little robots that open them for us. It will forever impress me how the turtle brothers lift them without assistance. Leo loves to hold it over my head how easily he can pick up the plates of steel and concrete, constantly making fun of me for not being able to do the same.

Once the cover is removed, I grab the robot and make my way down, putting the robot back onto the plate so it can close it. I take my phone out as the robot works and put on the flashlight. It gets really dark once the lid closes, and I learned my lesson the first time I tried to climb down in the dark. Turns out, it’s really hard to climb back up a ladder with a broken arm.

The robot dings and I pluck it off the cover. Sticking it back into my pocket, I slowly make my way down the ladder, trying not to fall. When I reach the bottom, I lightly tap the concrete with my foot. Stepping in a puddle would really suck, and while sewage doesn’t drain through here that often, any water down here is really gross.

Satisfied with the dryness, I fully step down. I use my flashlight to guide me once more, muscle memory taking over. It was around a 10 minute walk from the alleyway entrance to the lair, but Mikey painted the entire way with little graffiti drawings so I would have something to look at while I visit.

Once I enter the lair, I head straight for the kitchen. I could see better now that I reached the lair, so I finally turned off my phone’s flashlight. Hopefully it wouldn’t die considering I forgot my battery pack in my rush to get here. As I entered the room, I could see Raph sitting at the island, his red onsie on and his retainer sitting next to him. He was sipping on a mug of what was presumably hot chocolate, and there was a second one next to him. Raph sends me a warm smile as I grab a stool to sit next to him, both of us wincing at the noise it makes when I drag it across the floor.

Raph slides the other mug over to me, and I eagerly take a sip. Holy moly Raph makes a good cup of hot chocolate, and this was just what I needed to warm me up. The lair was considerably warmer than everywhere else I had been tonight, and I wanted to stay here as long as possible.

Raph takes another long sip of his hot chocolate before he breaks the comfortable silence that settled between us. “Sorry to call ya’ so late, I really ‘preciate ya’ comin’ t’night.”

“Having nightmares again?” You look over at Raph, his mask was off so you could see the scarring around his eye. It was a miracle he could still see out of it.

Raph nods, staring down at his mug and watching the chocolate drink swirl. His leg was bouncing pretty quickly as he chewed on his lip. I wanted to ask what was wrong, see what was bothering him, but he beat me to it.

“Do ya’ mind sleeping over t’night? I’d ‘preciate the company. We could hav’a slumber party in the projector room, or just hang out in mine. Whichever makes ya’ more comfortable”

I scan Raph’s face, noting how he’s not meeting I gaze fully. Feeling relief that the main thing bothering him was just the shyness of asking his friend to sleepover, you shoot him a big grin.

“Dude, I’d literally love that,” I say, shifting in my seat to face him more. “My heater broke, and it’s actually warm here. You’re gonna have to drag me out kickin’ and screamin’.”

Raph finally meets my gaze, brows knitted together making his quote-unquote “Raph chasm” grow larger. “Are you okay? How long’s it been broken? Do ya’ know when it’ll get fixed?”

His rapid-fire questions stun me a bit, I didn’t expect him to care so much. Maybe he likes me back? Is this hope? A sign? I slightly shake my head, trying to shoo the thoughts out of my head. It’s Raph, he cares because his heart’s too big and I’m his friend. That’s it. That has to be it. Right?

“Yeah, I’m good. It’s been broken for about a day, and the repair dude said it’d take about a week for them to get out there and fix it.” I swirl the rest of the hot chocolate in my mug, frowning slightly when I see just how far down it’s gotten.

“A week? Isn’t that dangerous? Dee said it’s gonna get pretty close to zero around here soon.” Raph frown deepens and the creases in his forehead grow. I notice his leg starts bouncing once more, the growing worry clearly eating him up.

“Yeah, I’m not too sure what I’m gonna do. So far, the blanket cocoon idea isn’t working the best.”

“You could stay here.”

My head whips over to look at Raph, searching his face for any sign of deception or lies. “I really couldn’t, you guys have your own stuff to deal with, and I don’t want to impose.”

Raph sighs as he leans back on the stool, hanging onto the lip of the island with his hands while he stretches. “I get your anxiety about being a burden, really I do, but you know we care about you right?”

Raph shifts in his seat so he could look at me properly, putting his hand on my shoulder and waiting for me to meet his gaze before continuing. “You’re not a bother, you’re not a burden, and you’re always welcome here. We care ‘bout’cha, and I sure don’t want you to freeze. If anyone says anything about you staying here for the week, I’ll personally have a talk with them, ‘kay?”

My face warms at his words and I just nod my head dumbly, hiding my face behind the mug I continued to sip on. Raph seems to accept this as an appropriate answer, smiling warmly at me before patting my twice on the shoulder and turning back to his normal sitting position. We continue to sit in a semi-comfortable silence as I wait for my face to cool down again. This was not helping my crush on him at all.

I set my mug down gently, stealing a glance at Raph as he tips his head back to finish off the rest of his drink. I smiled a bit at the sight, the red giant’s tail was wagging slightly, obviously being pleased with the way his cocoa tasted. The worst he could say was no, right? That’s what everyone says? If I confess right now, maybe he’d go easy on the rejection. I take a deep breath and steel my nerves.

“Hey Raph?” Raph’s head turns towards me, his deep eyes putting their full attention on me. “I want to tell you som-”

My words were interrupted by a spoken “GASP”, and I deflate as Raph’s attention turns towards the offending voice.

Donnie marches in, phone in hand as he stomps and spits all over my attempt to finally admit my feelings to Raph. I vaguely notice that he has yet to change into his pajamas, but I was more focused on the eyebags showing around his eyes through his mask. He looked like he hadn't slept in a week.

“Holy Galileo, is that HOT CHOCOLATE? And you never even offered me any!? Raph, my brother I am OFFENDED!”

I giggle a bit, my mood lighting up a bit. Donnie really can be amusing when he wants to. Although, I’m not too sure he’s aware of it.

Raph rolls his eyes at the young pouting softshell, slightly amused by his dramatic outburst. “To be fair Dee, I thought’cha were sleepin’ already. Y’know, like your s'posed to be.”

Donnie falters a bit before perking back up, obviously reading to make his case on why he should be allowed to be awake and drinking hot cocoa, “You cannot turn this on me, no sir. Last I checked, you’re supposed to be asleep too, but you’re still up. And with THEM!”

Donnie accentuates his last sentence by dramatically pointing his finger at me like I was an enemy soldier on a warfront. I loudly slurped the rest of my cocoa, watching Donnie's eyes twitch at the sound. I smile a bit into my cup, proud that I was able to get a slight rise out of the turtle. Raph rolls his eyes once more at his brother's antics, pushing back his chair to stand up properly.

“One, I called Y/n in the middle of the night. This is an apology/bonding hot cocoa. Two, you’re supposed to be asleep. However, I am willing to make more if you want some, I'm running low anyway.” Donnie eagerly nods at Raph’s words, fishing down a mug for himself while Raph starts to busy himself with finding the big cocoa powder tin. He looks over at me, holding the tin and slightly shaking it in a silent question to me. I grin and nod excitedly at the notion, pushing my mug towards him slightly as I mutter my thanks and pleases.

Raph hums as he pours water into a saucepan along with sugar, cocoa powder, and a small amount of salt. Donnie pulls up a stool and sits next to me, his mug in front of him while he plays on his phone in wait.

“Why are you here? It’s almost 4 o'clock in the morning.” Donnie says, never looking up from his phone.

“Raph called me to hang out and my heaters broke anyway, so I just came to hang out.”

Donnie finally looks at me, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Why isn’t it fixed yet?”

I shrug. I didn’t really know why it wasn't, but it continues to not work. “The company that I contacted said they couldn’t send someone ‘till Friday, didn’t really give me a reason though.”

Donnie frowns at my answer, his ‘eyebrows’ knitted together in a similar fashion to Raphs. “It’s tuesday.”

“Oh wow, really? Gosh, thanks for telling me such valuable information. I will cherish it forever.” Sarcasm drips from every word I spout, and Donnie looks incredibly unamused. I hear Raph snort from next to the stove, so I count this as a win.

“Why would it take them 5 days to come out and fix your heater? That’s a 2 hour job at worst.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what they told me. There isn’t much else I can do but wait.” I shrug, and turn back towards Raph, watching him stir in the milk before pouring the mixture into each of our cups. Both Donnie and I give a quiet thanks to Raph while he walks around to sit next to me once more.

Continuing the conversation, Donnie speaks up once more. “I could fix it.”

The skeptic look I was staring down Donnie with brightens to one of hope. “Are you serious? ‘Cause that’d seriously be so awesome!”

Donnie nods his head as he sips from his mug, obviously savoring the sweet drink as much as possible. “If you’d want, we could head over right now-”

Raph slams his cup that he was previously drinking, the loud “WHAM” making both Donnie and I jump slightly. Donnie and I both turn to look at the snapper, but Raph refuses to look either of us in the eye.

“Oh Raph-a-la, want to share what that was about, hmm?” Donnie and I both continue to stare Raph down, his face slowly turning as red as his pajamas.

“I, um. They don’t need it done now, plus we’re all tired, so Raph thinks they should stay here tonight. No offense Donnie, but you look like you might pass out any second.”

Donnie continues to stare Raph down, and seems to find something during his analysis. With a little nod to himself, Donnie shoots Raph a tight smile.

“Well, if you say so boss man. I’m gonna take this,” Donnie raises his mug of hot chocolate, “and head off to my lab. Goodnight you two. Come find me in the morning if you want to take me up on that offer, Y/n.”

I nod and Donnie and wave goodbye as he leaves. I hear Raph calling out his own little goodbyes, and I realize we are left alone once more.

“So…., what were you gonna say earlier?” Raph starts, taking a sip from his mug as he eyes me. “It seemed important, but Donnie kinda interrupted you.”

I freeze in my seat. I completely forgot about the almost confession that happened earlier. “Oh, that.. Um, well, I just kinda wanted to get something off my chest, but it isn’t really important. You don’t gotta worry about it!”

Raph’s eyes narrow as he looks me up and down. “Uh huh, sure. Y'know you can Raph anything, right?”

I shrink a bit under Raph’s gaze, my face heating up as I try to work up the courage once more. “Yeah, I know. It's just, I don’t know. I don’t want to make things weird between us.”

“Why would things become weird between us?”

Here goes. “Because I like you, like, a lot.”

I watch Raph freeze, his body grows tense and I start to panic. “Not that you need to reciprocate! I know I’m a bit weird, so I totally understand if you don’t like me back! We can totally ignore any of this happened, I can even go back to my apartment if your uncomfortable, I don’t want to make things weird between us-”

Raph puts his hand on my head, stopping my ramblings. There's a small smile on his face and the pit in my stomach grows. This is it. I’m about to get rejected and he’s never going to talk to me again. This sucks.

Raph opens his mouth and I tense expecting the worst. “Don’t worry! Raph likes you too! Like, a lot.”

What?

That’s not what I thought was gonna happen. I meet Raph’s eyes and they are filled with nothing but warmth. I melt into the hand on my head, the relief mixing with elation and I feel like I just had a sugar crash.

“You do?” I had to make sure, make sure this wasn’t some pity move to make me feel better.

Raph nods, pulling me into a hug which I instantly melt into. “Raph promises. I like you too, Y/n. I have for a while.”

“Oh.”

I feel Raph’s body vibrate with the chuckle that escapes him. He just holds me for a bit, keeping me next to him to prove that this wasn’t a dream and I wasn’t about to wake up. The events of the day slowly catch up to me, my body demanding sleep now that all the worry was drained out of my body.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” I ask, trying to gauge whether this was a conversation I need to wake myself up for or not.

“No, let's try in the morning. We’re both too tired to think. Do you want to sleep in the projector room, or mine?” Raph shifts me in his arms, standing up while carrying me. I was a bit embarrassed he felt the need to, but I would care more later. I’m still riding on a love high. Plus, Raph’s carrying me, I'm not complaining for the world.

“Uhhhhhhh, yours. I want to snuggle in your plushie pile.”

I watch Raph nod through half lidded eyes, snuggling into the turtles arms even more. I fell asleep before I reached the room, dreaming of all the things Raph and I were going to do together now that the feelings are officially mutual.

01.07.23

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karahalloway · 9 months ago

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The Highwayman: Part III - The Highwayman Comes Riding

Fandom: TRR (Historical AU)

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: On a dark, moonlit night, a highwayman's luck runs out...

Masterlist: The Highwayman

Chapter Summary: Drake arrives, but it's too late...

Word Count: 4,100

Rating/Warnings: M (swearing, physical violence, murder, grief, suicidal thoughts, main character death) Do not read if you are triggered by any of these things!

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: As with Part II of this series, this installment is also quite grim and dark. So read at your own peril. There is no happy ending. As before, I have made some changes to the original, but hopefully, these are for the better.

A/N2: This is my third and final submission for @choicesprompts January 2024 Song Rewrite Challenge. The song I chose to rewrite is The Highwayman by Loreena McKennit.

Part III - The Highwayman Comes Riding

The crack of a musket explodes out into the night.

I duck instinctively, pistols primed and itching to return fire...

...until I realise that the shot had come from the casement.

My throat constricts. "Harper..."

But she has vanished behind the plume of powder smoke that now obscures her window.

"Shit..."

I'd known something was wrong the moment I laid eyes on her. She'd been too tense, too still, sitting on that ledge, more akin to a doll than a flesh-and-blood woman...

...but I'd spotted the silvery gleam of the barrel too late, and now all hell has broken loose.

Fucking Beaumont.

I should never have let my guard down.

Heedless of the preservation of my own skin, I leap forward, fingers on triggers, desperate to reach her.

Another flash of orange...

...and my hat sails from atop my head as a bullet goes just wide of its mark.

I raise a weapon, volleys of lead peppering the thatch to my left and right...

...but I am quickly forced to confront the obvious.

I cannot risk it.

The darkness, in combination with the smoke screen being kicked up by the 'Coats flintlocks obscures my sight into the room, and Harper's location within.

And though I desire nothing more than to dispatch each and every one of Beaumont's whoresons to the depths of hell, the truth is that I'd be firing blind. And I wouldn't be able to live with myself if my bullet found Harper instead of a dragoon.

So, I have but one choice.

Flank the bastards.

Spinning 'round, I dash back down the length of the roof, bullets nipping at my coattails. Diving to the side, I return a pair of retaliatory shots in the general direction of the inn — careful to avoid the actual window — so the 'Coats are under no illusion as to the direction of my retreat.

Sliding down the thatch, I push off from the roof to land bodily atop the muck heap.

Not the most graceful of my escapes, I have to admit, but beggars can't be choosers. And I am pressed for time that I do not have.

Rolling off the pile of shit, I quickly sheath my spent pistols and lope towards the barn with sabre drawn instead.

Emile, the stable hand, had paid back my previous generosity by making me wise to the unsavoury nature of the guests that had descended on the inn. So, instead of hitching Drogon and the new palfrey up in a stall, I've taken the added precaution of hiding the horses out in the gorse.

But where I erred was thinking that the Greencoat patrol had sought the inn out for benign purposes. Because it sure as hell hadn't been me who'd plotted the course for them. In fact, I've always taken care to ensure that my tracks never led directly back to Harper.

Which begs the question... How the fuck did I end up walking into an ambush? With Gale strung up as bait?

My grip tenses on the hilt of my sword.

Someone had let the cat out of the bag. They must've. There's no other explanation.

Who? I have no clue. As there are a grand total of two souls who are privy to the secret that I frequent The Crown, and neither would betray me.

Not willingly, at least...

But, first things first.

Skirting along the shadow of the structure's perimeter, I arrive at the stable doors.

It appears quiet. But after being greeted by gunfire once already this eve, I am loath to take further chances.

Pinching up a handful of peddles, I toss them through the doorway. Only when no shots fire in reply, do I dare slip inside.

"Sir?" comes the hesitant query from within the shadows. "That ye? I heard musket fire an'—"

My sabre slices through the night. "Thought I'd be dead?"

The boy's countenance morphs into a mask of horror as the blade comes to rest 'neath his jaw. "Nay, sir! I'd never! I—"

"Care to swear on that?" I interject with a dangerous edge.

"On a tower of Bibles stacked on my parents' graves, sir!" Emile vouches with a tremble to his voice.

I assess the lad under the pale light of the moon. His face is ashen but his eyes glint with steadfast surety.

I lower my blade. "The 'Coats have Harper..."

The hand emits a gasp of disbelief. "Sacré dieu...!"

"...and I could use your assistance," I add, moving to the closest stall that houses a mount bearing Greencoat livery.

"Anything, sir," he proclaims earnestly. "Yerself an' Mistress Harper ha' always been good t' me!"

"Fetch a bag of oats," I direct as I grab the reins of the bay gelding. "And a length of rope if you have it."

"Right away, sir!"

While Emile sets about his task, I lead the Greencoat mount out onto the gangway. Reaching for the girth, I tighten it back up before slipping the bridle off and tossing it into the straw.

"The things ye requested, sir," huffs Emile, reappearing once more.

"Good," I approve, taking the sack of feed from him. "Now, help me lash this to the saddle."

Working in tandem, we quickly secure the decoy atop the horse. Shrugging out of my justacorps — on top of the retribution for Harper, that cunt of a Beaumont also owes me a new hat and coat — I sling the muck- and bullet hole-ridden covering over the sack to complete the trick.

"Think'll fall for it, sir?" asks Emile as he meets my eye from across the horse's neck.

"Better pray to God they do," I reply, slapping the mount on the rear to send it galloping out into the night. "Else this might very well be our last meeting."

Emile's throat bobs in consternation. "Best o' luck to ye, then, sir."

"Christ knows I'll need it," I accede, grasping his palm to press a gold ducat into it. "Now, make yourself scarce afore the dragoons show up."

With a quick nod, the lad disappears back into the gloom of the barn.

Withdrawing from the stables once more, I skirt 'round the far side of the building, careful to keep to the shadows. Hopping the low fence of the vegetable patch, I make my way towards the low door that leads into the kitchen.

Trying the handle, I find it unlocked. Pulling the heavy wooden door back, I slip warily inside.

The crash of boots above me confirms that the Greencoats have fallen for my ruse. But there is no guarantee that every last one of their dastardly lot plans to depart the inn.

Belvedere Beaumont may be a godless dog, but he is by no means a fool.

Which means I'll need to keep ahold of my wits... and weapons.

Pausing at the bottom of the short set of stone steps that lead up to the main hall, I spare a moment to quickly reload my flintlocks.

Slotting one gun back into my belt, I grasp the hilt of my sabre in one hand, and the second pistol in the other before ascending the stairs.

The hall is dark... and quiet.

Whatever patrons there may have been must've made themselves scarce upon the discharge of the first shot.

Honestly? I cannot blame them. I certainly would not wish to be caught on the wrong side of the dragoon's crossfire.

I clench my eyes shut. Please, let her be safe...

Moving through the hall like a ghost, I arrive at the main staircase.

Cocking my pistol, I proceed onto the first step with as much care as I can muster, even as every fibre of my body is raring to dash upwards as quickly as humanly possible.

Sticking to the wall, I inch my way slowly towards the second floor, flintlock before me, on guard for the faintest sound or movement.

Reaching the landing without incident, I am greeted by the wanton destruction left in the wake of the dragoon besiegement.

My jaw piques in ire.

This had been punition — pure and simple. The setting of a heavy-handed example to put the fear of God into the hearts of all those who may cross paths with Beaumont and his men.

A warning of what will befall those who dare defy the letter of the law.

I shake my head. I should never have involved—

A shadow moves in one of the rooms to my left.

Flattening myself against the wall, I sneak a peek through the doorway...

...and what I see roils my guts.

Robert Gale — the inn-keep — is hunched over the chest standing in front of the large, four-poster bed, his hands bound behind him, his shirt and hair matted with sweat. A dark puddle of blood pools at his feet.

Two 'Coats root through the things in the room, pocketing anything that catches their eye and fancy, sniggering amongst themselves.

A hiss of chagrin escapes me. "Putain de merde..."

There is punishment, and then there is persecution. And Harper's father is — without a shadow of a doubt — a victim of the latter. The extent of his wounds provides ample proof of Beaumont's abuse of his authority.

And I cannot allow myself to stand idly by in the face of this atrocity.

I step out of the gloom and into the doorway.

A floorboard creaks beneath my boot.

One of the dragoons glances up...

...but by the time his faculties have clocked the fact that I am foe, not friend, I have already splattered his brains onto the wall behind him.

His compatriot meets the same fate half a breath later, as he fumbles ineffectually for his musket, his body thudding to the floor as the second of my bullets also finds sharp and swift retribution.

Robert Gale's voice croaks out from the foot of the bed. "Ye should'a left them alone, lad..."

But even that simple act is too much for his broken body, and he starts to hack violently.

Taking three quick strides 'cross the room, I manage to grab the old man 'fore he keels over. "Easy now..."

He heaves a shuddering breath 'gainst my breast. "Now, we'll be strung up fer sure..."

"Nay," I counter softly, reaching behind him to loosen the bonds that secure his wrists. "You just lay the blame at my feet. Where it belongs."

Robert twists his neck up to regard me with bruised eyes and cracked lips. "Yer him... The Raven Rider..."

"Amongst other things..." I admit, lowering him as gently as I can to the floor.

The inn-keep hacks out a strained laugh. "Aye... I can see why she likes you..."

"Have you seen her?" I demand, shrugging out of my waistcoat to press it to the wound at his side.

"Nay," Robert replies hoarsely. "Not since they found the gold in her room..."

The icy hand of dread grips my heart. "Sweet Jesus...How the bloody hell did they even know where to look?"

"Théo..." comes the raspy confession. "He... He heard—"

I nearly choke on my own breath. "The window..."

We never closed the damn window...

Springing to my feet, I dash from the room, heedless of the sound of wood striking wood as my booted feet pound the length of the hallway.

How could I have let myself be such a careless fool!

Not only have I tarred the woman I love by virtue of our association, but I've unwittingly led the bastards right to her! And if they found out about the gold, then...

I cannot allow myself to even think on that.

Skidding to a stop in front of the last doorway, I throw myself inside...

...and skid to an abrupt halt as I lay eyes on the horror spread out before of me.

"No..."

The dogged denial slips from my tongue in a whisper.

But my lack of acceptance does nothing to assuage the merciless truth of the reality that assaults me like a thousand knives to my chest.

Harper lies prone in the moonlight, bound and gagged, her golden tresses soaked in the slick crimson of her blood.

"No... No..."

My feet carry me unthinkingly to her listless form beneath the casement — the window of which sits still ajar — and I crash to my knees at her side.

Grasping her by the shoulders, I pull her to me with trembling hands, praying under my breath, hoping against hope that it's a mere trick of the night, a cruel misjudgement, a sordid nightmare that I have somehow stumbled into, soon to awake from...

...but even though her skin still feels warm to the touch, no breath issues from her chest and those hazel eyes that once sparkled with magic and love now stare dully out into the night.

My nails dig into her flesh as my body bows over hers. "Oh, God... Please... No..."

But if the Almighty Lord hears my plea, He is either a heartless bastard or an impotent fraud because He ignores my beseeachment. And she remains unmoving 'gainst my heart.

"NO!!!"

The delegation roars forth from my chest with a force that is naked in its brutality. The heathen keen echoes out into the night as the bitter taste of anguish engulfs my throat and my soul shatters 'neath the stars.

I am too late. And she is dead.

Shot in the heart and left to bleed out on the cold floor like a dog. Alone. Without any assurances or prayer.

All because I'd allowed my heart to sway my head. Convincing myself that despite all my prior misdeeds, I could nevertheless steal a future for myself. A future I had no right or claim to. A future that was more akin to the spectre of a mirage than any flesh-and-blood destiny. A future that was doomed from the start.

Yet my covetousness knew no bounds. And blinded as I had been by the promise of the lie I'd weaved not just myself but Harper as well, I'd led us into the mire of disaster.

"It should've been me..." I rasp into her neck as anguish blurs my vision. "It fucking should've been me..."

I hear the floorboards strain behind me. But I care not. I have no words or sentiment left. And if it's one of Beaumont's enterprising men come to shoot me in the back? Well, then at least they'll be doing me the favour of putting me out of my luckless misery.

Because the knowledge that I have doomed the woman I love cuts deeper than any mortal knife could.

And I've lost the right to live anyway.

"Imma sorry, lad..." says Robert Gale, laying a calloused hand on my shoulder, his own voice cracking.

I shrug the gesture off. I don't deserve his pity. Let alone his succour. I am the one holding the body of his dead daughter in my arms. If anything, he should be setting on me to tear limb from limb in payment for my sins.

Yet, he does no such thing.

"Had I know afore tonight 'bout ye..." He heaves a hoarse breath from above me. "But I s'pose we all had our secrets... And I know it inna any consolation as of now, but we'll bury her 'neath the oak tree. Next t' her mother. That way ye can—"

"Them," I bite out through clenched teeth.

The old man shifts. "What do ye—?"

"She was with child," I grit, reaching up to pull the bloodied gag from her face.

Robert falls into deathly silence beside me.

"So, raise your hand," I tell him bluntly as I pull her eyes gently closed. "Beat me. Wring my neck. Kill me, for all I care. For this is the only opportunity I'll afford you to exact your just vengeance upon me."

"Ye must think very little o' me, if ye think I'd strike a grieving man," rebuts the inn-keep with a hint of steel. "Let alone one who loved my daughter so."

"Then you are a better man than me," I reply solemnly, leaning in one last time to lay a kiss on her lifeless lips.

"Imma'n older man," he corrects as I gently return Harper's head to the floor. "Who's stood where yer standin'. So, I can afford some clemency. 'Specially in this bitter hour."

"You might come to regret your choice," I reply, forcing myself back to my feet. "As I bring nothing but death. And our paths will not cross again after tonight."

"Where ye goin'?" comes the flummoxed query as I push past him.

I throw my reply carelessly over my shoulder. "To exact vengeance of my own."

"They'll kill ye, lad!" Robert calls after me as I stride from the room. "They'll hang ye fer murder! And her death will've been fer n—!"

"I'm a dead man anyway."

Without caring to look back, I let my boots carry me back 'cross the corridor to retrieve my weapons from where I'd left them in the master bedroom.

Reloading the pistols on the fly, I stash them in my belt and I beat a determined path back to the lower level of the inn and out into the night.

The crash of the door 'gainst the wall catches unawares the pair of dragoons that had been left to stand watch on the exterior. But by the time they turn towards me, I have already run both of them through.

Leaving the sods to bleed out in the mud, I plunge into the darkness rising before me.

The cold, winter air whips through my hair, stinging my eyes and my lips in sharp contrast to the hot blood slithering between my knuckles.

But I pay it no need. For I have but one goal. One mission.

To take every soul I can into the night.

Because death? It is all but assured for me. As whether I go by my own bullet or a Greencoat's, it is simply a matter of choice at this point. For I have no reason left to live.

My world turned to ash the moment she died. And there is nothing left to salvage.

Coming to a halt some ways off from the inn, I shoot a sharp whistle into the depths of the murk. A shadowy form raises its head from the gorse, and in the next instant, Drogon is trotting eagerly towards me, the new palfrey in tow.

"Change of plans, mon gross," I advise as he comes to a stop in front of me, breath steaming in the moonlight. "And I don't think you're going to like it..."

The Merèns regards me for a moment, as if sensing the shift in my soul, before letting out a world-weary sigh.

"You always were far too opinionated," I tell him dryly, reaching up to untether the palfrey from his saddle.

Turning the bay towards the stables, I give it a slap on the rump to send it on its way. With Harper gone, I have no further use for the horse. And Emile will ensure it is well cared for.

The stallion shakes his head at me as I swing myself onto his back. But I allow him no further opportunity for protest as I gather the reins in one hand, and point him north.

"Hue!"

Upon command, Drogon leaps forward, and the night becomes a blur as we fly across the moor, like an ill wish upon the wind, seeking our quarry 'neath the path of the stars.

I have no clue for how long we ride. The silvery eye of the hunter's moon casts an eerie pall over the land, distorting any earthly sense of time or distance as its lunar magic stretches shadows and swallows minutes.

Eventually, though, from out of the darkness and the mist appears a ghostly glow, bobbing on the brow of the hill.

"Beaumont," I growl, watching the company ride closer.

They must have caught the horse and realised the nature of the ruse they had fallen prey to.

But it matters not. The time for tricks and cons has passed. There is no more running... No more hiding. No more trying to cheat or contrive our fates. The last of the road has run out.

It is judgment hour.

Wrenching the flintlocks from my belt, I press Drogon forward, down into the valley, down into the well of our doom.

Yet a strange sense of calm blankets me as we draw level with the oncoming troop. Perhaps because my heart already stopped beating the moment I laid eyes on her. And this last, earthly act is merely a formality. Or, I'm so drunk on the potent potion of grief and bloodlust that swirls through my veins that I've become numb to all else.

Either way, I am a shadow of the man I once was. And welcome the sweet promise of release.

The reins slip from my fingers as I raise the pistols to sight my shot.

The figures of men and horses coalesce from out of the gloom, torches borne aloft.

I reach the edge of the sphere of light...

... and let the first shot fly.

The lead dragoon's eyes widen in surprise as the crack of flint 'gainst frizzen ignites the black powder in the pan, splintering the calm of the night.

The lead round explodes out of the barrel in a flash of smoke and fire, hurtling through the air to imbed itself in the soft flesh of the man's cheek, shattering teeth and bone as it goes.

The shock of the impact causes the 'Coat to jerk back on the length of his reins, pulling his horse into the path of its neighbour.

Taking advantage of the confusion, I fire another round into the heaving mess of bodies, catching a horse in the shoulder, causing it to throw its rider from its back.

Cries of horror and surprise rise up as the precisely stacked formation careens into itself, turning both man and beast into a maelstrom of panic.

Slinging the spent weapons into the night, I whirl Drogon back 'round, his hooves rearing into the air as he seeks to redirect the sharpness of his momentum.

Whipping my sabre from its sheath, a hellish howl erupts from my throat as I point the tip of the blade across the narrow divide in vengeful promise.

"BEAUMONT!"

A glint of gold flashes in the middle of the fray as my target snaps his head up at the sound of his name.

"Shoot him, you whelps!" screams the captain, grabbing for his own pistol. "Blast him dead!"

But I am already charging forward.

Shots crack out into the night as I bear down upon my mark...

...and there is but one prayer on my lips.

"I am coming, mon coeur..."

I am almost upon the wall of dragoons when I feel Drogon stumble. Another round pierces my gut a breath later. A third lodges in my shoulder.

But still, I urge the stallion on...

...until his knees give way in the face of the desperate volley of bullets and he careens into the mud, taking me with him, mere steps from my goal.

A thousand pounds of horseflesh crashes down on me, pinning my leg 'neath the weight. My sabre clatters from my hand to vanish into the tangles of the gorse beside me.

The back of my head collides with the ground, and I find myself staring up into the black expense above me, my body broken, my senses reeling.

Drogon lifts his head briefly, attempting to pull himself to his feet, before succumbing to the inherent futility of the exercise with a mournful sigh.

"It's alright, mon gross," I whisper, attempting to comfort the wounded beast lying atop me, even as my vision skips and my lungs struggle for breath as a familiar wetness drenches my shirt.

This is not the way I planned to go. But it seems I left what remained of my luck in that cramped room where my love had blossomed and then died.

Fitting, really...

A pistol clicks above me.

With the last of my strength, I reach beneath my shirt, where Harper's talisman lies coiled 'gainst my heart.

Twisting the damp silk 'round my finger, I close my eyes with a final exhale.

…look for me by the moonlight.

They say that in the depths of the dark — when the moon is high and full — that the sound of hooves may be heard, galloping 'cross the moor...

And though you may not glimpse it, a ghostly rider's there. Searching for his love, they say, who gave her life for his...

If he finds her, 'tis not known; but he made a solemn vow to her. And a promise bound in blood and silk, is a promise that must be filled...

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#harper gale #drake walker #the royal romance #the highwayman #trr au #song rewrite #choicesprompts #historical au

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