#and is met with like. dark knight returns or something

[acediscowlng]

do you ever think about the absolute culture shock of edwin "book nerd" payne missing the most of modernism and post-modernism. cause i do. i think about that a lot.

just. think about edwin encountering The Waste Land for the first time and finding it very moving and reflects his own experiences very well, but also finding that very weird because like??? yes, the nihilism is great and all, he's never felt more Seen in his life, but he's also been to hell and what do you mean an entire generation of writers apparently just get what that feels like????

[bi-writes]

a hand for a hand | knight!ghost x f!reader

in the year of our lord 1657, your king wields a weapon that cannot be reproduced. as your queen's lady-in-waiting, you steer clear of it, lest it cut you when it passes by. but duty and desire are rarely met in a man's world.

type: one-shot (6.5k)

cw: dark!ghost, reader described as curvier/plus-sized, mentions of war + violence, possessive!ghost, war-criminal!ghost, inaccurate historical settings probably, unprotected piv, cumplay, breeding kink, size kink, ghost is obsessed with your tits (18+)

It is not a secret that you are afraid of the king's men. There is a reason that they have a reputation of cruelty. Ravagers, conquerors, unruly and untamed–they train like dogs, and they live like them, too. By accident, you have wandered to where their barracks are, and if it wasn't for the happenstance of your king hearing your screams, they would've taken your virtue that night.

That one belongs to my wife, he had said, gripping you by the scruff of your neck. Spoil it, and I'll have your fuckin' heads. His queen had been much kinder when he returned you back inside, cradling your head in her lap and promising to have something fashioned for you to wear so none of his men would ever touch you again.

And they haven't. They do not bow to you, but they open the doors for you, move out of your way, try to keep their eyes off of the softness of your cleavage and the curve of your skirt. But there is one that does not, there is one that refuses, and this one you avoid the most.

You don't know him by any other name other than Ghost. The right hand of the king, his most trusted advisor and his most brutal of men. There are times when he barges into the throne room, his sword dragging along the stone floor and trailing blood in its path, and he tosses the head of the king's enemy onto the floor. You clutch onto the skirt of your queen's dress, tears welling up in your eyes, and when you look up, he is staring at you, heaving in the metal of his armor, and you look away as his men yell out proudly as they crowd the room.

His eyes are always on you when you are in his presence. They track you as you move behind your queen, follow you as you eat and drink and tend to her majesty's needs. He wanders the halls, and he observes you as if you are his next meal. And maybe you are–if he suddenly decided you would be his next conquest, you don't think a refusal is in order. Maybe that's the mercy he gives you; just the aggressiveness of his stare and his stare only, and not the strength of his hand or the cruelness of his demeanor.

There is always a party. Always a celebration for this brute. He is praised by politicians and priests alike, because he must be the hand of god, delivering whatever the king asks for when it is asked of him. He does not lose, all he comes back with is chests full of gold and new slashes to add to the growing collection on his skin. Sometimes you wonder if he puts them on himself. You wonder if he drags his dagger in a crooked line down the length of his arm, as if he is tallying his win, counting up to a number that already puts the men that came before him to shame.

He seems like the kind of man to do so–like the kind of man to do it even with the blood of his adversary still warm on the sharp edge of the blade, the kind to lick it clean when he's finished just to solidify the unease and the terror of the next man to have the unfortunate fate of ending up at the wrong end of his adrenaline.

He has no face. He has no name. And if he is coming for you, it's already too late; your fate has been sealed, and you should say your last rites. The only mercy he ever gives is that death is always quick. His sword is too sharp, and his hand is too heavy.

It is late in the evening when you hear it. There's screaming in the courtyard, yells and howls and cheers. You put down your hairbrush, getting up and padding to the window to look outside. The king's men are there, hundreds of them milling about and walking around. They share mead and wine, crusty bread in their muddy hands. They are bloody and bruised, but they are happy. They sing and chant, hold each other and crowd around fires. They left weeks ago, and they are back now, and you suspect it must be victory on account of their demeanor.

You are not surprised by this. They aren't kind, but it makes them good soldiers. They aren't afraid to die; it's a common idea in your culture that for a man to die in battle is the only way to true salvation, to actual ascension. You have always hated this idea. Boys become cruel, and men become unforgiving, and it is why you are so grateful to be her majesty's lady-in-waiting because it means she is your only duty and nothing more.

You are surprised by the knock on your door. You think about ignoring it, but then there is another knock, and then a familiar, low voice mutters, "Are you awake, my lady?"

You tie your robe and scurry. When you open up the door, you curtsy low and graceful, your eyes drawn to the floor as you tremble a little in the king's presence. You've never really spoken to him before, not without his queen at your side.

"Y-Yes, your majesty? I'm sorry for my appearance, I–"

"It's quite late," he says gently. "You don't have to apologize. Is it alright if I come in?"

You stand from your curtsy, blinking up at him. You think for a few moments before you nod, widening the door. He settles himself at the seat by the window, looking down into the courtyard. He has a hint of a smirk on his face as he looks down at his men, still singing.

"I have a request of you," he says finally. You take a seat at the edge of your bed, wringing your hands nervously in your lap. Whatever his request is, you don't know why he's putting it this way. You're not exactly allowed to refuse. "It is time for my most decorated men to receive their titles. They deserve it, after what they have done for me these past few years."

You swallow, "Yes, of course. You have such a fine army, your majesty. You must be...V-very proud."

He turns to face you, and he nods.

"These titles come with land. Money. Responsibility. And it comes with other things they might request," he explains. "One of these things can be a bride."

"They are most fortunate," you say softly, trying to smile. He stands, turning back to look down into the courtyard.

"You are to be wed tomorrow," he tells you. "I know you gave up much to accept your role at my wife's side, and for that, I have arranged for a sizable dowry on your behalf. Congratulations, my lady." he turns to smile at you. "By sunset, you are to be a duchess."

You're shaking when he goes. You clutch the sheets, sinking to your knees, and you cry. You cry because you know who asked for your hand. You know who wants you, you know who it is, because every time he comes back from war, he cannot take his eyes off of you. He eats you with his gaze, he violates you and has never even touched you, he takes from you, and you've never spoken to him, but you know it's him, you know it, you know it–

Your queen is ecstatic. She lends you diamonds to wear, and she fusses over the embroidered silk and cotton dress they've sewn for you overnight. She tells you she's so proud, that you will make such a beautiful bride and a beautiful duchess, and it takes all of your strength not to cry, to choke back your sobs. Your innocence will be gone by the next morning, you know this, and yet here she beams about colored fabric and your new, unwanted title and all of the duties you have never, ever wanted for yourself.

Marriage will be your prison, and you will never be free. You'll be hidden behind closed doors and forced to carry loud, chubby babies.

You are not the only bride that afternoon, but you feel like the most important. Your veil is the longest, your dress is the most intricate, and you are wearing the queen's diamonds. Not to mention, you are to become a duchess, and the rest will be lords and ladies, nothing more. You have always hated the hierarchy that society fits themselves into, but you've never despised it more than this moment.

He is waiting for you when you make it to the throne room. He wears his armor, polished and without blood, his face covered and his hood up to shadow his dark eyes. He wears his telltale insignia with pride, the skull motif of his belt gleaming and the paint of his mask fresh. He stands tall and menacing, a reaper in human skin, and you are so close to tears as you make your way to him. Your eyes find his, and he holds out his hand for you to take. You slip a delicate hand into his gloved one, letting the rough fabric warm you as he brings you to stand in front of him. He purrs, you think, a low rumble as his eyes look you up and down.

You are a prize. A trophy. Nothing more. A gift given for cutting the heads off of your king's foes, and that is all.

The ring on your finger is gold, and the ring you slip over his is silver. And then he gives you his first gift as your husband–a tiara, made of emerald and gold, and he slips your veil off to tuck it between the strands of your hair. The intricate pattern on the tiara matches the patterns along the iron of his armor, and you want to think of this as a gesture of good will, but you know it is given with possessive intent, a brand of ownership.

Because that is what this is. Not a ceremony of love, but an exchange, a transaction. You've been bought with blood, and there is nothing you can do about it.

But one day he will grow bored of me, and maybe then, I'll feel myself again.

He narrows his eyes, glares, and your lips part, trembling, you are terrified. His response is to growl with delight, his eyes falling to stare at the laces that hold in your cleavage. You observe this fact–the fact that you have things that other ladies do not. You are not tiny like them, not thin nor delicate. You are warm, soft, and the squeeze of your breasts in your dress draw him in.

You are a prisoner, now. But perhaps, if you play this game correctly, you can be in your ward's good graces. This is the hand you've been dealt; perhaps there is still a way to win if you steel your bluff.

The party is lively. There is music, gold coins tossed haphazardly on tables, so much dancing and enough food to stuff yourself for days. There is endless wine, and there are brides seated in laps, hungry new couples kissing and whispering soft nothings into each other's ears. The king blessed you all, told you to enjoy your new lives, your new titles, to make your country proud and raise pretty, fat babies.

You sit aways from him. You don't speak, just stare at your dinner plate, sipping wine absentmindedly as you think about the rest of your life and how miserable you will be. You think about the control you have never had, the choices you have never been given, and you wish so badly that you were a man.

Men simply ask for, and then they receive. Women simply hope that their eyes don't meet a flame too hot to handle.

His eyes bore into your head. When you catch his gaze every once in a while, all he does is tilt his head to the side and observe you. The beauty that you are, the woman that no one can have, the supple tits that belong to him, and the perfect cunt he knows that you have under the multitude of skirts you hide it under. Your skin glows, your hair is healthy, you will give him everything that he needs, that he craves.

You'll look so beautiful carrying his heir. You'll look so perfect when you begin to wear the dresses he will buy you, when you sleep in the bed in the house that he gives you, when you stand in the kitchen that he builds for you. Although, a woman like you deserves to do nothing but relax, be pampered, to lay down on a bed of furs as he eats your sweetness and fucks you stupid.

When the morning is early, you sneak out. You scurry to your bedroom, closing the door behind you for a moment of peace. You take a seat on your bed, the bed you aren't sure you will have for much longer, and you sit there and stare at your feet until the door opens.

You know who it is right away. Coming in unannounced, because now he is allowed to, because everything in this room now belongs to him, from the thread holding your dress together to the very breaths you take.

You sit up straight, turning your head. Ghost slips through, taking up the space by the door as it shuts behind him. You watch him as he stands poised just like the soldier he is, looking at you illuminated by nothing but candlelight. His gloved hands rest at his sides, but he squeezes them in and out of fists, clicking his tongue. You hear the leather of them move.

You have never spoken to him before. You've never heard him speak. You wonder if he really knows how to; you wonder if he has a voice or if he's been whittled down to nothing but the sounds that a loyal mutt makes. You know why he's here, you know why he's come. You can't tell him no, you don't think, but he doesn't move from his place, so you aren't completely sure of what he wants.

But you have an idea.

"Y'abhor me," he says finally. He speaks. You swallow. At least he isn't stupid. It's rare that you see a brute with brains. Although, with all the battles he has won, you know he doesn't lack intelligence. He is seasoned, worldly, knows how to convince the politicians and to rile up the uneducated men that kill for him. He must have a quick tongue and a strong vocabulary. A leader bred for killing, a man taught to know his audience and how to deliver a persuasive message.

But has he been taught to tame a cat? How to please a woman? How to love her, how to have her?

Love. What a silly dream.

"Not as much as I fear you," you admit. He hums, his eyes crinkling a little, as if he's smiling. You watch him carefully as he finally moves, rounding the bed before he stands in front of you.

"Wot is it y'r afraid of?" he asks. His voice comes low, from the bottom of his chest. You tilt your head up to look at him.

"That you'll hurt me," you whisper. He shrugs, shaking his head.

"A beaten wife is no good t'me," he tells you, very matter-of-fact. "Need strong heirs. Which means I need y'fed and happy."

"I'll never be happy."

He grips your chin, shutting you up. A part of you wishes he would be meaner. That he would be the angry, possessive Ghost that he truly is and show the kingdom that there is no part of him redeemable or salvageable. You want to sport his bruises and tell the queen he is an animal, but his touch is firm and nothing more. If anything, he's gentler than you expected him to be.

"We'll see about tha'."

Your eyes water, and you stiffen at his touch.

"I know who you are," your voice cracks. "I know what you do. You're a pillager. You take women, and you kill men."

He tilts his head to the side, smoothing his thumb along your bottom lip. You aren't wrong. Since he was small, most of what he has known has been the smell of blood in the air and the sound of screams when he shows up at their doors. He's never been particularly gentle when he ravages. He takes, takes, takes–it tastes good and strengthens his bones. It puts medals on his chest and pretty, thick women in his bed.

But you are no village in an unfortunate land. You are the gift that his king has given him. The forbidden treasure that he had his eye on since he saw you standing there beside his queen. Poised, elegant, graceful, timid, untouched, perfectly soft. Ghost has never known this kind of thing, and if you had been any other lady, he would have married you long ago, but he had to wait. He had to be patient, win and kill enough that his king could not refuse his request–no, his demand–to have you.

He did not do the king's bidding for the glory or for the honor. He did it so he could bite into you, so that even if you screamed, you belonged, and no one would care.

"Just a matter of war, dear wife. They matter little," Ghost mutters. "Let me look at ya..." he tilts your head side to side, observing you. He guides his hand down your throat, arching you back so he could trace his fingers along the swell of your breasts. He hums with approval, reaching lower and squeezing the fat of one breast with one big hand. His eyes flash, and he fondles the other.

You are surprised by the sensation. No one has ever touched you this way before. It feels...good. His hands are warm, even under all of that leather, and you find yourself feeling rather sensitive. You lean back a little on the palms of your hands, looking down. You watch as he traces a finger around your nipple, and you bite your lip when it pebbles under his touch. He uses both hands now, cupping both of them, growling. Ohhh–it feels so nice.

"Gonna be so nice when they're full," he murmurs, mostly to himself. "All for our babe."

You don't know what comes over you. You don't know why you do it, but you do. You lift your hand, gripping the edge of the laces that tie the front of your dress closed, and you pull. The weight of your breasts unravel the ribbons, and Ghost groans audibly when they spill out of your corset. There is a tickle that you feel, some sort of sick satisfaction, knowing that you've pleased him in some way.

"Tha'sit...My beautiful bride..." he smacks his lips together under his mask, as if he's hungry, "Tits of a fuckin' angel."

You squeeze your legs together. You know what it is to feel aroused, but this is different. You feel wet, so wet, as if it's wetting the skirt of your dress. You've never felt it this strong. You whimper a little, and he chuckles, so mean.

"Y'like tha', my bride?" he asks. He reaches up and cups your cheek, bringing your soft eyes to his. The praise, it itches you nicely. "Y'r m'prize, swee'eart. I killed over a thousand men, and y'are what m'reward is, did y'know tha'?" he hisses. "Cut the heart out of a man's chest, like a fuckin' pig, just to 'ave this cunt."

Why does it feel so good? Why are you getting wetter and wetter, why are you whining, why are you giving into it? Why do you want it so bad, why do you ache?

It hurts, it hurts–

"'s olright," he coos, so condescending. "Shhhh..." he puts a palm on your chest and pushes, making you lay back. You swallow, letting him put a finger between the laces of your corset and tug. It barely budges, fastened so carefully, and you gasp sharply when he uses two big hands and grunts, ripping your corset apart. You hear the crack of the whale bone give away under the strength of him, and it's a reminder of just how dangerous he is, how strong, and you know when he looks between your thighs, he'll find you wet and needy and captivated.

The corset comes loose, and he tugs, taking your skirts with it until you're naked underneath him. You want to feel shame, but you can't. You're so desperate, for whatever he will give you, and instead of covering yourself, you let your knees fall open. The groan he lets out makes you leak even more, and he watches with awe as your puffy hole pulses. He moves to shove his trousers down, but you stop him, putting a hand on the chest of his leather armor.

"Wait–" you meet his eyes. Your eyes flutter. "B-but...But I want..."

He eyes you curiously, narrowing them.

"Want wot?"

You swallow.

"I-I..." you reach down and slip your fingers gently through your folds. The squelch makes his eyes widen, and he's mesmerized by what he sees. "I want...Your mouth..."

He snickers, "Y'think a man will eat it so easy?" he raises a brow. "Doesn't work tha' way. Besides..." he shrugs. "I don't reveal m'face."

You sit up, blinking, smoothing your hands down his chest and tracing them along the hem of his trousers. His dark eyes follow you, and you realize he doesn't really say no. You need to remind him that you are not one of his men. You need to be kept happy, and he needs to give in, even if it hurts his fucking ego.

"Please?" you whisper, taking his hand and putting it back on your face, kissing the palm of his glove. Killed a thousand men to have me, so show me–show me, show me, show me. You nuzzle into it, giving him those eyes, and he stares for a long few moments. "Please..."

He sinks to his knees almost immediately. His armor stretches a little, the leather and metal moving rigidly with him. Your eyes widen a little at the position–the thing that he is knelt down in front of his wife, an act of submission.

"Turn around," he snaps. "On y'r knees."

You do as he says. You turn on the bed, your face squished against the cushions, and he yanks you back by your hips. You fist the sheets, sucking in a shaky breath, and your eyes squeeze shut when he puts two hands on your ass and spreads you wide. He plants a kiss on your folds from over the mask, and then you hear the shuffle of fabric before his warm tongue prods at your entrance.

He eats slow at first. Just drags his tongue through the slick there. He's exploring you, learning you. But then he is all-consuming. He hisses, gripping you by the thighs and suckling at your clit before tracing his name into the folds of your cunt. You can't help how wet you are–drooling, wetting his mask, crying so soft as he bobs his head and eats you, starving. He did not expect you to be so sweet, so soft. Every part of you is soft, and he associates the taste of you with the sound of your pleasure, and it's like a trigger. His brain ticks just the right way when he hears you moan for the first time. Not even battle quiets the tinnitus, but the ringing is nearly gone now.

He wonders if you're sent from heaven, even though he doesn't believe in it. But something had to have sent you, something had to have given you to him, because it's too much, it's too good, it's too real.

What he wants is in his hands, cumming on his tongue, crying because of his touch. Too real, too real, too real.

He pulls away. He smacks his lips gently, smirking, and then he pulls his mask back down. He stands up straight, watching you, still on your knees, squirming. He tuts, turning you onto your back easily. You're languid and a little breathless, and you giggle a little when you realize how easy it is for him to manhandle you, for him to move you. You've never felt very small, but he doesn't even strain, not even a little.

He's so scary, it makes you sick, but you can make this your own–you could make him love you, couldn't you? Someone this twisted, someone this insane, you could make him obsessed, you could drive him crazy, you could have the loyal dog you have always been yourself.

Killed a thousand men to have me, so I'll put you on your fucking knees.

It's what you're owed. For all the years of serving, for all the years of submission and pain and kneeling and curtsying, you're allowed to have something, you can have something, even if it's this monster of a man. He may have paid for you, but you won't let a thousand men die for nothing.

You will make him love you. You will make him love you. You will make him love you.

You sit up, a bit dazed. You're swimming in your own head, a little insane from the orgasm. You know what a man like him wants. You have doted on men like him all your life. You know what it is that arrogant people crave, what it is they desire, the things that keep them up at night, you know because you've soothed those fears all your life.

You just need to know how to make him purr. You need to know what clears the thoughts in his head.

"My husband," you whisper, meeting his eyes, and there's a little twitch in his eyes. He likes that title. "I–"

"Did y'like that, my bride?" he murmurs. "Your husband's mouth on y'r cunt, 'n now y'r singin' for me, eh?"

You bat your lashes, sliding your hands up his forearms. You drag your fingers over the sleeves of his armor, whimpering. The smell of leather is overwhelming, but you suppose you must get used to it. You have a feeling you'll be polishing it for the rest of your life.

"I've always been...Terrified of you," you whisper. "The way you come into court...The way you fight...Seeing you in all those places, you have always scared me..." he hums, his eyes intrigued. He smooths his hands up your thighs, gripping onto your waist as he tugs you closer to him. "But, I..." you reach for his shoulders, pulling on him until he bends, leans over you, crowds your space and shadows you like the eclipse he truly is. "I-I want more..."

He chuckles, "I know y'do," he echos. "Could see it in y'r eyes, darling girl," he sighs. "A pretty face like this one...Wasted on her majesty."

"I don't think we're allowed to say that."

"I deliver entire countries at john's feet, I'll say wot I bloody please," he snaps. You just blink up at him, before smiling a little.

This disgusting, murderous, possessive, immoral, treacherous piece of shit that is your husband is really the most beautiful man you've ever set your eyes on. Strong, resilient, unable to be killed, adored by his king and his men alike. He is everything a man is supposed to be, but nothing like how a gentleman should behave. He is built for war, built to take, so how can you get this nasty thing to love you?

Ghost does not seem the kind of man to bend to the desires of ordinary men. He may want to fuck you, but he has self-control. He may enjoy the praise of his men, but he doesn't require it. He may ache for the soft press of a woman, but he is self-sufficient and easily deterred.

So you do what servant women do best. You appease, because at the end of the day, Ghost is still a man, and men are all the same.

"A baby..." you whisper, holding onto the backs of his hands firmly. You dig your nails into the skin there, arching your back to get closer to him. He growls under the mask, metal biting into your soft skin as he grips you even tighter. "Want a baby..."

He cackles, so mean, and he leans down to kiss along your ear, down your throat, biting at the supple skin through the mask. He's still got all of his armor on, he hasn't shed one lick of his gear, but you cling to it like a parasite. He is one with it, and you realize this now, his second skin made of durable steel and patent animal skin, singed at the edges. He's such a fine soldier, too strong for his own good, too rough around all his edges to be anything but a masochist, but he's yours. He belongs to you as much as you belong to him, and it isn't until he slides the warmth of his length through your folds that you realize this, too.

You reach up with trembling hands, high enough to cup his masked face. He flinches, nearly throwing you off, but you shush him gently, cooing softly as you nuzzle your nose against his.

"I'm sorry," you whisper there. It's so intimate, this position, and you know that he has never let anyone touch him this way by the feeling of his body under your hands, stiff and unable to move. You roll your hips gently, up against his, and you let out a soft keen at the squelch of your slick against his cock. "It's...It's everything I didn't know I wanted..."

He grunts, metal creaking as his nostrils flare.

"I don't understand," he murmurs. Affection, it's so unfamiliar that it startles him. That someone can be kind to him, something other than a hard hand and an impossible order, it's not something he knows, and he's not sure how he feels about it. His instinct tells him to distance himself, but his cock guides him closer.

"You," you whine. "So big–" you reach down between your bodies, pumping his cock gently. Your fingers barely meet around his girth, a true testament to his size, he lacks this largeness nowhere. "–there's nothing to be afraid of, is there?"

Ghost snarls a little, gripping your thighs tight and securing them around his waist. You lock your ankles around his hips, pulling, and he hums as the head of his cock sinks into you easily.

"Naughty lil' girl," he laughs, standing straight as his thighs meet your ass. You whine, your back bowing like a taut string, and he slides his tongue over his teeth with a menacing click. "Not a virgin, are ya?"

"I-I am," you gasp, clawing at his forearms, and he hisses when you clench.

"Mm. Not a stranger t'this feelin' then, aye?"

You shake your head, and he nods, hoisting your legs up and over his shoulders as he gives you a firm thrust.

"Good," he mutters. "Don't much feel like pettin' ya."

And he doesn't. He's a menace. He snarls like a beast under his armor, his gloves squeezing your plush thighs as he pounds into you with no words to soften the blow. He isn't gentle by any means–he gives, and he expects you to take, and your legs shake as you try and crawl away from him. He doesn't let you–his fingers spread around your waist and he tugs, spearing you back onto his cock before he leans over you and starts putting his back into it.

Despite the roughness, he looks down at you, eyes focused on yours, and he doesn't look away. Your arms flail a little until you reach up and wrap them around his neck for stability, but it only draws his face close to yours. Your hand falls to grip his jaw, and he leans into it just enough that you know you have him.

"You'll make such a good little babe," he grunts, groaning when you tighten just that much. He's securing his place, making room inside of you so you can take even more. "Cunt was made to bear m'children, m'lady..."

"That so?" you squeak, and he smiles under the mask–you're falling apart on his cock, a good girl, just for him, just like you always are. "Have to finish what you started for that to happen, don't you?"

"Fuckin' brat–" Ghost snaps, but he presses his face to yours, needing to be closer, needing to have you, needing to make you his from the inside-out. A ring is not enough, no, he has to bind you to him forever by making you bear his kin. He will give you many, he's going to keep you fat and beautiful and pregnant, and his children will know that their father hungered for their mother so much that he destroyed a generation of men to covet one of his own.

Ghost has known since the first moment he laid his eyes on you that you would be it. You had to be his wife, no one else would suffice, because no one else could bear the weight of his name the way you would be able to. No one else would be able to carry his babies without dying, no one else could make the sun fall and the moon rise and the fire wane just long enough for him to feel human again, no one.

You start to think the same. You've never felt this way, so out of your body and so aware of it all at once. You're floating–you're somewhere else, you think. There's a pleasure so searing, that you can barely breathe. His cock is deep, touching places inside of you your fingers could never dream to reach, and there's a place that he touches sometimes that makes your eyes blur and your mouth make the most pathetic whining sound. You're crying, begging, asking him for more, please–! Nnghh–please!

He's never had a woman so wet. He has always had them for his own pleasure. He has never paid attention to what they feel or tried to make it nice for anyone but himself, but he knows he will never want it the same ever again. There's something so satisfying about the heavy plat, plat, plat that his cock makes every time his hips meet yours. He can feel his trousers sticking to his thick thighs, knows that there must be some thick, creamy slick coating his length and sticking to your skin that he suddenly wants to scoop up with his tongue and savor the tang of his bride, his wife, his pretty, pretty girl–tha's it, just right, like tha'–

"I...I-I–!" it's more intense than you've ever felt it. A crescendo of pleasure that is starting to grow in your belly, an unwavering warmth that he keeps flooding you with, so good that you can't stop crying for it. You're sputtering, drooling, clawing at the hood around his back because it's so fucking close, it's right there, it's mine, you're mine, mine, mine–

"Fuckin' hell–" Ghost groans, cradling your head against his chest as he stills his hips against yours and fills you nice and warm. You go cross-eyed, you think, shaking as you latch your mouth onto his masked jaw and suck. You need to put your mouth around something, need to fill it with the taste of him. He doesn't move, body heavy and suffocating over you, but you don't tell him to move and make no effort to push him off.

You think you want this. You think you want him to keep you here, just like this, underneath him, full of him, drooling from more than just your mouth from a fucking too good and the promise of something more.

He moves to take a seat on the bed, and you chase after him. You keep your arms around his neck, shuffle into his lap, and he chuckles under his breath as he wraps one big arm around you and tugs you close to him.

Maybe it isn't so bad to be bound to someone like this. Maybe it isn't so bad to belong, maybe it isn't so bad to be wanted this way, maybe it isn't the most unfortunate thing to not have the autonomy of yourself anymore in favor of being this thing's wife.

You slide your hand down his chest before smoothing it over one masked cheek. His eyes close for a moment, and he leans into it for just long enough that you recognize the gesture as one of need. Ghost aches, too–maybe not for the same thing you ache for, but he aches, and maybe it's for this.

Something gentle. Something soft. Something to bury himself into because the flames have burnt too hot for too long, and the voices in his head give him no reprieve. His hands are too dirty, too unclean, and you think maybe that's why he doesn't take his gloves off anymore–there is no cleaning agent enough for the blood caked under his fingernails.

He's more human this way. Less beast, more man, but you see that flicker of humanity disappear entirely when he sees the trickle of his cum slipping onto the fine sheets of your bed.

What a waste. What a loss. He has to fuck you again.

He will never be bored of me, I don't think. Ghost will want me forever–even when we are dead, because he cannot die, because he's already rotting inside.

You don't seem to mind your new position. No kneeling, no curtsying–your duty is on your back and on your side and on your stomach, presented for your husband, just for his pleasure, just for your own.

In all your life, you have never wanted this. You endured the burden of serving because you were at least needed this way. Marriage to you looked akin to death; when the veils fell over girl's faces, you never saw them again. They would be confined to their houses, made to spread their legs, forced to carry children they didn't want and die the slow death of giving their husbands everything they wanted while their dreams were buried alongside them.

Your dream is freedom. It always has been. Your dream is to do as you please, to go where you want to go, to say the things you want to say. There is an understanding here that you have, an opportunity that you could not see before. Before you had Ghost, you saw him as the thing in your way. He was the quicksand that would pull you under, the tide that sunk the earth, the dog that guarded his bone. But you know now, you understand, that Ghost doesn't have to be the wall in your way.

He is more animal than man, and in that fact alone, you feel power in your toes and something hungry knocking at the bone of your ribs, just waiting to come out.

Ghost will hold the sword. And you will hold the leash.

NEXT

[bodybaggage]

Phantom in the League

---

The Watchtower hummed with its usual low energy, the heartbeat of Earth's greatest defenders. The Justice League had just wrapped up their latest meeting, discussing the increasing dimensional rifts appearing across the globe. Batman, ever the detective, had been the first to suggest the possibility of a more mystical cause. Naturally, the League looked to Zatanna and Constantine for guidance. But before they could dive too deep, another voice cut through.

"We could always ask Phantom."

Superman’s suggestion was simple, straightforward, and met with a few curious looks. The Kryptonian had always been one to trust his teammates, but Phantom’s origins had been one of the best-kept secrets in the League. Phantom, the young yet mysterious ghostly hero, had been a valuable ally since he’d been recruited after saving Star City from a rampant ghost attack nearly a year ago.

The League had grown used to his presence. His ethereal glow, the way he seemed to fade in and out of sight like a wisp of smoke, and the cryptic smile that often played on his lips. He was a mystery, one they had chosen to respect, but now? Now, they needed answers.

"Do we even know where to find him?" Green Lantern asked, hovering a few inches off the ground. "He just… shows up."

"I can find him," Batman declared, his voice a low growl that brooked no argument. "He can't stay hidden forever."

"He's never been a threat, Bats," Flash pointed out, leaning casually against the conference table. "He's just… Phantom. He helps out, doesn't ask for anything in return, then he's gone."

"That might be true, but we need to know who or what we’re dealing with," Wonder Woman added. "If these dimensional rifts are tied to his abilities or his world, we need to be prepared."

Superman nodded in agreement, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "Let’s just ask him directly. If he trusts us enough to fight alongside us, then he’ll trust us with the truth."

---

Phantom had never been easy to track, but Batman had his ways. And when Batman wanted to find someone, he did.

The Batcomputer pinged with a soft alert as he isolated Phantom’s spectral energy signature, something the Dark Knight had painstakingly compiled over the past few months. It was faint, almost undetectable, but there was enough to trace a general location: an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Gotham. Fittingly enough.

---

When the League arrived at the warehouse, it was eerily silent. The only sign of life—or unlife—was a soft, pulsing green light emanating from the cracks in the walls. Superman could hear the faintest murmur of voices, and Wonder Woman felt the magical energy in the air thickening, almost like stepping into another world.

“Stay on guard,” Batman instructed, though he knew everyone was already on high alert.

They pushed open the rusted doors, revealing a scene none of them had expected. Phantom was there, hovering mid-air, his back to them. But he wasn’t alone. Standing before him was a massive, imposing figure, crowned with a spectral crown and draped in regal, ghostly armor. The very air around the figure crackled with power—power that seemed to warp reality itself.

"Who the hell is that?" Green Lantern whispered, his ring already flaring to life.

"That's Pariah Dark," Phantom’s voice cut through the silence, clear and calm. He turned slowly, his eyes glowing a vivid green. "The former Ghost King of the Infinite Realms."

“Former?” Wonder Woman questioned, her brow furrowed in concern.

“Yes,” Phantom continued, descending to the ground as he spoke. “He’s no longer the king because… I am.”

The League froze. Superman’s eyes widened slightly, and even Batman seemed taken aback, though he quickly masked it. The implication was massive.

Phantom noticed their reactions and sighed, looking almost tired. “I was hoping to keep this quiet, at least until the time was right. But I suppose now is as good a time as any.”

He walked forward, the green glow around him dimming as he shifted from his ghostly form into that of a human boy—one who looked no older than seventeen. His black hair fell into his face as he offered them a weary smile, his bright blue eyes meeting theirs with surprising warmth.

“My name is Danny. Danny Fenton. And, yes, I’m the current King of the Infinite Realms.”

“The Infinite Realms?” Superman asked, though the name already resonated with him. He had heard of it before—an interdimensional realm of ghosts and spirits, a place of both immense power and danger.

Danny nodded. “It’s… complicated. The realms are like a web of dimensions, all interconnected and constantly shifting. I inherited the throne after defeating Pariah Dark.” He gestured towards the massive ghost, who remained silent, his eyes glowing with an eerie intensity. “It wasn’t exactly by choice, but it’s my responsibility now.”

“So, you’re a king,” Flash summed up, trying to wrap his head around it. “And you’ve been, what? Just hanging out with us, fighting bad guys on Earth?”

Danny chuckled, a sound that held a hint of bitterness. “Pretty much. The Infinite Realms are my duty, but Earth… Earth is my home. I couldn’t just abandon it, not with everything that’s happened.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Wonder Woman asked, her tone gentle but firm.

Danny hesitated, his gaze falling to the ground. “I didn’t want you to see me differently. I’m still me, still the same guy who fought alongside you. I just… have a lot more on my plate than most.”

“Kid,” Green Lantern said, lowering his ring, “we’ve all got our secrets. But this? This is big. You could have told us.”

“I know,” Danny admitted, his voice soft. “But I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want to bring my problems into your world. But with these rifts appearing… they might be connected to the Realms, and that means it’s my responsibility to fix it.”

Batman stepped forward, his eyes never leaving Danny’s. “And Pariah Dark?”

The ghost king finally spoke, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to echo through the very fabric of reality. “I am here at the behest of my king. I no longer seek to conquer. My past… transgressions have been put aside.”

Danny glanced at Pariah, his expression unreadable. “Pariah Dark is… complicated. But he’s under control. I’m keeping him in check.”

There was a moment of tense silence before Superman spoke, his voice carrying the authority of a leader but the warmth of a friend. “Danny, we’re a team. We face these challenges together. If the Realms are a threat, we’ll help you. But you need to trust us, just like we trust you.”

Danny looked up, meeting Superman’s gaze, and for the first time, he truly felt like a part of something bigger. Not just a king, not just a hero, but a member of the Justice League.

“Okay,” Danny agreed, his voice firm. “I’ll tell you everything. And together, we’ll stop whatever’s threatening both of our worlds.”

The League nodded in unison, the tension slowly dissipating. They were in this together, just as they had always been.

As they prepared to leave, Danny couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. The burden of his secret was still heavy, but now he wasn’t carrying it alone. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he truly belonged.

And as the Watchtower’s doors closed behind them, Danny knew that whatever came next, he wouldn’t have to face it alone.

pt.2

---

[pomefioredove]

Okay okay, hear me out. Lilia with the quote “trouble never looked so goddam fine”. I can imagine as the parental figure of Diasomnia he tries to set a good example even with his playful behavior. No clue if you write for him so this is a bit of a shot in the dark. Have a lovely day/night ♡

I write soo much lilia 🫡 this was a really fun prompt!!

summary: "trouble never looked so goddamn fine." type of post: short fic characters: lilia additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, flirting is MAYBE a little suggestive if you want to read it that way, reader flirts back a liiiittle bit

"And... please... no trouble," Silver says, already sounding weary at the thought of the night to come.

Lilia tilts his head to the side, feigning innocence.

"Me? Trouble? Never," he says.

"...Though I'm wounded by your lack of faith! You know I wouldn't do anything to scare them off!"

Silver sighs. "Alright. They just mean a great deal to Malleus, and I'll be busy watching Sebek all night so he doesn't deafen them,"

Lilia chuckles; he's tempted to tell Silver to relax a little, it's just a small dinner with Malleus' new friend, nothing to worry about!

...Though, he has to admit, he is very much looking forward to meeting this mysterious individual.

"They're older than I expected," Silver mutters, looking towards the door as Malleus leads you inside.

Curious, Lilia thinks, though he only responds to Silver with a nod.

Malleus pulls out a chair for the prefect like a proper gentleman. You thank everyone for having you over. How cute.

"...I do hope you've met Sebek, being in the same year. Next to him is Silver, another one of my knights-in-training, and this is Lilia Vanrouge,"

Lilia waves, his mind wandering to a dangerous place as he smiles at you from across the table, cradling his chin in his palm.

Malleus starts explaining the architectural history of the building, and you nod along, making a valiant effort to listen.

...Though (and much to his delight), Lilia still catches you stealing glances in his direction.

He knows he's supposed to behave, but trouble never looked so damn fine.

Silver asks something about the statues on the building, and sets Malleus off on another tangent about the differences between gargoyles and grotesques...

Something you've probably heard before, if your silence is any indication.

Lilia takes the opportunity to make his move, tentatively nudging his shoe against yours from under the table.

Your eyes dart towards him, perhaps expecting an apology; he smiles, giving you an open invitation instead.

You glance between him and the others, then return the nudge.

Oh, this is fun.

Lilia hasn't felt so restless in ages. Having to stay relatively still and discreet is killing him.

But he is nothing if not patient. He has all the time in the world.

He leans against his elbows, teasingly rubbing up the side of your leg while you try to answer a question, flustered.

You're quite the entertaining thing, he'll give you that.

Lilia could easily take this a step further, and he's almost tempted to do so. Then-

"Fa-Lilia, are you listening?" Silver says, momentarily stumbling over his words. You raise an eyebrow at the slip up, but are apparently too polite to ask.

"Hm?"

"Malleus asked you to tell the Prefect about your travels,"

Malleus nods, smiling softly. "I think they would enjoy them, they're quite interesting,"

You return the smile, turning your attention back to Lilia. "I think I would,"

He tilts his head to the side, almost intrigued by the mysterious lilt in your tone, before he feels you returning the teasing gesture from earlier.

"Go on, I'm at the edge of my seat,"

[fuji-sen]

the 'evil imposter' just wants to be a baker!

Prologue: The Foodie turned Imposter?!

Part 3: Mint Tea

[ part 2 ] || [ masterlist ] || [ part 4 ]

divider is made by @/saradika-graphics

After that bone chilling scream, what happened next was a blur. Vaguely you remembering forcing yourself to run to the windows, crashing through it as you landed outside and behind the headquarters of the knights of Favonious, you stared in fear when a purple hue shone above you, Lisa was ready to hurt you again with her electro powers but-

Thawk!

A flying chair was hurled towards her and hit her straight in the face! you would have laughed but the pain from being electrocuted made you cry, your body was shaking from the immense pain, Lisa was powerful despite what you saw in-game.

The next thing you knew, you heard footsteps and yells from approaching knights, you had nowhere else to go but. .

As Jean ran to the window, the last thing she saw was you, meeting your gaze for a moment and then. . you hurled yourself off the wall and into the lake that had surrounded mondstadt.

The winds that Stormterror brew was stronger than before, as if he was irked more than usual. Perhaps that was the cause of the presence of the imposter, someone so villainous to even try and imitate the divine. .

Still. .

terrified [color] eyes and cold gray blue eyes met only for a moment, the acting grandmaster faltered, hesitated for a moment to yell out orders when she felt something pierce her heart.

she clenched the fabric just above her chest, the pain lessened but it still lingered. . .

𓂃 ོ𓂃𓅩𓂃 ོ𓂃

Burning,

then drowning,

and last, darkness.

Those were the last things your body experienced before finally giving in.

Afraid, Sadness, Confusion. . betrayal.

Those were the feelings that haunted you in your final waking moments.

As you were unconscious, you were susceptible to the nightmares that formed from your experience, like you were trapped in that same scenario in that damned office.

Labelled as an imposter, your life almost being taken, and being struck by powerful lightning, or rather electro. The feeling of being struck by such. . otherworldly power, it felt like being burned and drowning all together at the same time. It left your muscles sore and stiff, you were sure the librarian's attacks would leave scars on your skin.

Stirring awake you sat up, you hadn't been unconscious for long as your clothes were still very much wet. In the struggle of fighting the waters to not drown, your cinnamoroll slippers were lost, perhaps now at the bottom of the lake. The only thing you had left was the same sword Jean pointed at you, the same sword she had almost used to take your life.

A part of you wanted to throw it, discard it some place she'd never be able to find. But you couldn't, not out of guilty but out of exhaustion and the need for a weapon to defend yourself with.

The winds caressed you gently, letting the tears that left your eyes be carried away by the wind.

What hope and respect you had for those characters seemed to slowly die, your comfort game now felt like a prison, it felt like you were in a survival game with all these odds stacked against you.

What crime did you commit to warrant your life to be targeted and taken away from your grasps?

You stomach growled, ah. . "I'm hungry. ." you hugged yourself as you sobbed, the overwhelming feelings you tried to hold back and bottle up were now surging from the broken damn that was your hope. That same hope that was shattered by the knights of favonious, by Jean and Lisa. You wondered if the other characters will treat you in a similar fashion, or maybe even worse.

You ended up falling asleep once again, from the hunger and exhaustion you felt from your very first day in the world you once felt comfort from. . what a pity.

In your tired and frantic state you had never noticed you were in the ruins of Stormterror's lair. The said dragon returning from who knows where, landing near your sleeping form, his neck craned as his head neared your body.

Eyes blinking every so often as he sniffed, although it was faint he could smell it. The smell of warmth and compassion the diving creator had for its land, weak, but it was there. And for Dvalin that was enough, he opened his mouth, and from it dozens of fish fell from it, forming a pile right beside you.

Your nose scrunched up at the smell of fish but you did not wake.

Satisfied Dvalin rested near you, head facing in your direction.

However numerous days and nights had past and you did not stir or wake from your slumber, Dvalin who had already been in a bad state as it is, lost control of his emotions and flew in a fury towards Mondstadt.

For they were the ones that caused you to fallen into such a depressive state. It was well with-in his rights as the dragon of the east to protect your honor as the [redacted]. So please, wake up, if you do not, you may end up dying once more. . .

𓂃 ོ𓂃𓅩𓂃 ོ𓂃

When you awoke Dvalin was gone, in the distance you could see the storms brewing from a far, in the direction you assumed that lead to mondstadt.

"Why. . why is there a pile of rotting fish beside me?" you wondered, fingers pinching your nose at the disgusting scent. The fish seemed to have been out for a few days already hence it was in a very undesirable state.

"There's not even a body of water in this ruins. ." you realized when the fish were salt water fish of all things. "God. ." your hand reached to brush through your greasy looks "how did I get here?" you wondered aloud, and of course nobody answered. You'd be more scared if there was.

Your stomach painfully twisted, your body was reaching it's breaking point due to the hunger. Eying the fish, you decided it was best to not risk it and so you began your descent from the ruins of the Dragon's lair. It was harder said than done due to the wind barriers and the lack of a wind glider meant that you had to climb down the infrastracture.

Which was a pain considering you woke up at the very top.

You were only halfway there when you stared at your bruised hand, [color] eyes squint at the shimmering liquid in your hands, barely noticeably, was it glitter? it was hard to tell with all the sweat that accumulated from your rock climbing.

You wiped your hands on your pajamas, as something caught your eyes from your peripheral vision. A statue of the seven. .

Cautiously you walked towards it, hands outstretched, hovering but never quite touching. What if touching it alerts Venti of your presence. . was he an ally or a foe. .

your arm fell limp on your side, you couldn't risk your life.

So in the end you turned your back to the statue as you began walking to a pillar you could easily climb done from. Your hands were aching, part of you screamed to touch the Statue so it could heal you if possible but you ignored it, choosing to endure it.

"Ah!-" you screamed as your grip loosened and you began to fall. You were headed towards the wind barriers, you shut your eyes tight as you brought your arms up to protect you face, fearing the worse!

Instead of getting cut by the fierce winds or being pushed back like what you had seen in game, all you felt was a gentle embrace. You opened your eyes slightly to find yourself floating down to the ground.

". . ."

without even questioning it, you dusted off your clothes and smile in relief. "Thank you to whoever is looking out for me. ." And, not wanting to waste anymore time, you looked around to scavenge for some ingredients, there you found an abandoned cooking station which you made sure to remember its location as you tried to find ingredients otherwise, what was the point of a cooking station if you didn't have any things to cook with?

you found some old utensils, mint, a pot, and calla lilies. Finding nothing else and being unable to kill birds for fowl and the fishes had been scared away you went back to the abandoned cooking station. You filled the pot with water from a nearby pond and boiled some mint in the water (the fire being provided by a nearby fire slime that had been nothing but accommodating for her strangely enough- and stuck beside you).

Sitting pretty on a crate you patiently waited for the tea to brew.

meanwhile. . .

"So there is an imposter that has defiled the lands. I see, this is very serious." Amber nodded in understanding as she, Kaeya and the traveller, Aether and their companion Paimon, had returned to the city after dealing with the temples that had been powering Dvalin.

Jean continued "Yes, although her status is unknown we must make sure to see to it with our very own eyes that the imposter has been dealt with." The blond haired traveller knew that 'dealth with' meant 'killed.' He felt a shiver, was Jean always this. . cruel? merciless?

"This will take precedence above all else. So Stormterror will have to wait." The acting grandmaster decided with shocked him.

Aether looked confused at the situation, an imposter? a creator? as far as he knew, this was a case of identity theft, did that constitute being killed on sight in this land? also, how was that more important than the crazy dragon that had been terrorizing the city for months?

Someone make it make sense for him.

Seeing his confused looks, Kaeya, who had been silent up until now, quietly explained to him the situation.

"In Teyvat, there is a being higher than the seven Archons. They are the divine creator. The origin of everything in this world, it is through them we exist, and it is to them we return in death." he explained in simpler terms.

Ah so the ultimate God, wait. . was that the unknown God that trapped him here?! and took his sister?!

"What do they look like?" Aether asked, trying to remain calm. It seemed that disrespecting this creator would end with him getting killed so he tried to act as neutral as possible. However if the divine creator was the one responsible for him being separated from his sister. .

not even the knights of Favonious will stop him.

"Let me show you," the captain offered "there is a statue made in the exact likeness of her excellency, or so I heard." he chuckled and guided him and Paimon out of the office. As he exited last, he glanced at the three that remained at the office, scheming and planning of ways to catch the so called imposter.

The Statue was located in an intimate area, it was smaller than the Anemo Archon's statue which towered over all in the city, just in front of the cathedral but the statue of the Great Creator made up for what it lacked in size with quality.

Aether stared at the statue that was erected behind the cathedral, he studied the well defined features of the statue and breath a sigh of relief upon realizing that the Great Creator and the Unknown God were not the same person.

And yet, "she seems. . familiar. I know this person." he frowned, facing morphing into a look of hopelessness and confusion until his eyes lit up with recognition. "Care to share traveler?" Kaeya patiently waited for his response.

"I saw her. When I was falling to Teyvat, I saw and heard her voice. ." Aether placed a hand on his chest, closing his eyes as he reminisced that distant memory. "She talked to me with so much sweetness and warmth. When I was in the beach, first waking up alone, I felt a presence, I'm sure it's her."

*He winced, clutching his head as unfamiliar yet familiar at the same time, memories flooded his mind. Memories of soaring through the skies, of falling to the ravenous oceans and being caught by a green haired warrior. . the feeling of being struck by lightning, holding someone in his arms as they drew his final breath-

"Aether!" Paimon floated beside her partner, small hands trying their best to comfort the traveller by rubbing his back or patting it. "are you okay?"

He did not answer, brows scrunching up as he panted, 'what was that?'

"I see." Kaeya's eyes shifted to the statue made in the Creator's image, he paid no heed to the fact that the traveler fell to the floor in a state of disarray.

"Why. . " Aether stood up, not entirely offended at the man's lack of care "why did they label them quickly as an imposter though? Wouldn't they first think it is the creator?" It was a reasonable point to brought up.

The blue haired knight hummed "it is because of an old prophecy that foretold the end of Teyvat, when an evil being that wears the face of the creator descends to bring chaos and trick the loyal followers of the Great Mother."

"How are you sure the prophecy is real or it is fulfilling though. . I mean, not all prohpecies are fulfilled. ." Paimon cautiously asked with a frown.

"True" the cavalier captain chuckled, yet it was humorless "but the fact that they showed up in Mondstadt, during the Stormterror's crisis. . when the city and its people is in a state of unrest. You can see why it led to this conclusion, right?"

Aether frowned at that, "it could have just been a coincidence." he defended.

"It could be, but it doesn't change how uneasy the people feel, they'll seek answers to why this whole situation is happening, for them it is easier to blame an 'imposter' of the divine Creator, which is an omen of destruction and misfortune."

Meanwhile you were sipping the improvised mint tea straight from the pot. It tasted spicy and bitter, a weird description but it worked well enough as you felt the burden on your stomach ease up. **

"This is going to be hard."

The Pyro slime that stayed by your side seemed to agree as it sorta nodded.

*Although when you were playing genshin impact, you progressed pass mondstadt and other nations, but upon returning to teyvat or getting 'isekai'd' time seemed to turn back to the starting point of the game. The memories of the residents of Teyvat were changed, yet the vision holders could remember your presence, your gifts (artifacts, weapons) and the strength you gave them. There will be characters who remember though, or partly so. **Funfact: there is a type of mint that specifically helps with staving off / delaying hunger (peppermint oil iirc), [name] applied that knowledge in this chapter because she couldn't find anything to fully help with her hunger.

also Teyvat is trying to keep you alive, hence when you were about to hit the wind barriers in stormterror's ruins you were able to pass through it without it hurting you and it (the wind barriers) helped break your fall.

Please pet Dvalin, and tell him he's a good boy (and don't mention how the fish had rot and you ended up disposing it. .)

taglist: @fantasyhopperhea

[pleasantangelpaper]

Knight In Shining Glasses (Ford Pines x Reader)

Chapter 1: Raspberries, Royalty, and Rock Bottom

Okay so. I love Stanford Pines, but there's not a lot of fanfiction for him, and I think there should be! Anyways, probably won't write smut for this because I want to maintain the gender neutral reader, but I may do oneshots with this vision of Ford.

Also this is probably bad. I'm not an amazing writer. lol. I also had no clue how to start this. Anyways silly little twist ending, but this fic is still for Ford, just wait.

As I came to my senses, I felt the cold hard earth pulling me to the ground, and a strange sensation on my face, almost like something wet was caressing my face... is that a pig "EUGH," I jumped up in fear as the seemingly harmless creature stared into my soul with its beady eyes. "Oh Waddles, there you are, you've almost missed your tea party with- Oh! Hey y/n!" A small girl with a very colorful sweater spoke quickly and excitedly. I immediately recognized her as Mabel Pines, grand niece of Stanford... or well Stanley Pines of the Mystery Shack. I still haven't met the real Stanford I suppose. "Mabelllll are you almost ready for this tea party thing, I want to go play D&D& more D with Grunkle Fo- oh hey y/n" The other mystery twin ran out of the shack, clearly annoyed with the tea party ordeal. "Uh, kids, could you ask an adult in your house if I can come in and use your phone?" I asked, still not remembering how I got to the mystery shack. Maybe if I called a taxi, I could go home and retrace my thoughts. "Oh, the shack's open right now, you can go ask Soos," Dipper stated as he pointed at the sign that said 'Mystery Hack'. I thanked him and Mabel and ran to the door of the shack. How could I have ended up at the mystery shack? Before I could finish my train of thought, I ran into a strong force. "Heh.. gotta look where you're goin kid," the older gentleman said. I recognized him as Stanfo... Stanley Pines. "Sorry Mr. Pines, it's just, can I use your phone?" I begged and hoped the man wouldn't ask for money in return. "Depends... do you want to buy anything..." The man squinted his eyes at me. I reached in my pockets and pulled out all of the cash that I had, 5.76$....oh.... This can't get me a phone call, let alone a cab. I looked at the man in despair as I turned around. As I began walking to town, I started thinking of how I got here. It all started when I left Greasy's diner. I was holding some leftover raspberry pie that my friend Lazy Susan had given me. Walking towards my house, I remember feeling watched. The feeling grew more and more intense, until I turned around and realized I was being followed.... by GNOMES??? "Hello ma'am, I'm Jeff, and on behalf of all gnomekind, I'm gonna have to ask you to hand over that pie," the little man stared so intensely, I didn't feel like fighting, so I handed him the box of pie. He opened the box, inspecting it. "This is heavenly, how would you feel about becoming gnome royalty... is that look of fear on your face a yes... I feel like I'm getting a yes," With the shock on my face apparent, I screamed and ran the opposite direction. "Get them!! Soon we will have our spouse!" "SCHMEBULOCK!" "WHAT HE SAID" The gnomes all yelled out different things as I ran for the hills. I prayed that gnomes wouldn't be able to hurt me, but I also knew there were powers in numbers, so I continued to run until I got to a clearing in the woods. Exhausted, I sat down on a stump to catch my breath, but when I looked up, I knew I should have kept running. A giant mass of gnomes towered over me with Jeff as their leader. I took what I thought would be my last breath as I prepared to succumb to the darkness, "Stay back gnomes! What have I told you about harassing random people to be your monarch," A masculine voice sounded through the woods. I was in such a state of shock I passed out, but before I did, I saw a glimpse of the man that saved me, gray hair, glasses, and a familiar face... Stan?

[waywardrose]

TO BRING YOU MY LOVE

star wars | kylo ren x reader | rated e | 9.4k

fem!reader, vampire!kylo, modern au, dracula inspired, dub con, predator/prey, kidnapping with restraints, derogatory language (not from kylo), guns, violence, blood and blood drinking, minor-character death, semi-public sex, historical inaccuracies

This fic fills multiple prompts (from sweet anons and the fabulous @thorfemmes) for vamp!Kylo, from his backstory to Reader affecting him to the possibility of Reader becoming a vampire. Thank you all for requesting! I hope you're still around. In case you need a refresher, the previous parts of Me and the Devil are here, here, here, here, and here. (Why don't tags work anymore? 😩) This fic can be read as a stand-alone, though! Title from "To Bring You My Love" by PJ Harvey.

“Biker gang? Pfft!” said your boss Vic in reply to a bar patron.

The agitated patron continued, describing a group of bikers led by a dark-haired man with a scar bisecting his face.

You suppressed a shudder as you mixed a simple cocktail. That sounded too familiar.

You’d begun working at Vic’s bar a few weeks ago. It was an easy job. Vic was gruff yet kind. They’d shown you around when they learned you’d just moved to the city. They even invited you home for dinner, where you’d met their sweet wife and dopey Pomeranian.

After a moment of contemplation, Vic said, “A scar…”

With a dismissive shake of their head and a frown, they poured the patron a double.

When all the patrons were distracted, Vic took you by the shoulder and steered you into the dim storeroom.

“If I’m right, and I hope to hell I’m not, that gang sounds like the Knights of Ren.” You stiffened at the name, but Vic didn’t appear to notice. “They haven’t been around here in years, but they’re dangerous. You keep your head down, got it?”

You nodded as if you didn’t know exactly who Vic was talking about.

“Why would they be back…?” Vic asked more to themselves than you. “Fuck if it matters. We’re closing early for the rest of the week. Ain’t no one living it up while they’re here.”

In a caring tone you hadn’t heard from anyone in months, they said, “Anyone hollers at you, you ignore them. Just keep walking, yeah?”

You nodded again, though you doubted ignoring catcalls would save you.

Vic walked you back to the bar and told you to polish the clean wine glasses.

With numb hands, you carefully buffed water spots from each glass and slid them in the rack above the bar.

The next evening, Vic’s wife called. She never called, so it must’ve been important. Vic rushed out with only an offer to return to help close. You’d assured them you could handle it.

Just as Vic predicted, there hadn’t been many patrons. One of the last — a regular — expressed his disgust for the way everyone was pussyfooting around at night. He didn’t think the sun was going to stop the Knights of Ren from striking.

Oh, little did he know…

As the regular swirled the last of his bourbon, he said, “If they’re out there, no lock’ll keep them out if they want in.”

You politely agreed with a hum. No lock could keep Kylo away.

You didn’t know how you’d make it to your place if the Knights of Ren really were out there.

“Thanks for listening, kiddo,” the regular said before knocking back the rest of his drink and standing. “You watch out, though, pretty thing like you.”

He left a generous tip.

Closing went quickly after that. You clicked off the neon signs in the window, wiped down the bar and tables, mopped the floor, and pushed in the chairs. After shuttering the bar’s front, you snapped the tarnished padlock closed as quietly as possible. It clunked against the latch just as something glinted at the corner of your vision.

The hairs at the back of your neck rose. Your heart leapt into your throat.

You bolted.

You didn’t dare look back. It would’ve only slowed you down. You didn’t want to see a flash of red eyes and black hair, either. That would’ve paralyzed you. And you needed to run. You needed to run as fast as your legs could carry you—

Though you knew you couldn’t win — not against someone like Kylo.

No. No, no, no.

You couldn’t think like that. You’d gotten away before. You’d do it again. It didn’t matter how he kept finding you.

With a pause, you scanned the unremarkable street. You were far from the bar now. You propped yourself with a palm against gritty breeze block. Your thighs ached and lungs burned, all the more obvious now that you’d stopped running. You panted, throat desert-dry and mouth sticky. Tilting your head back, you tried to catch your breath.

The inky sky was as empty as the streets.

And you didn’t know where you were anymore.

You bit your lip and silently berated yourself for not paying attention as you ran. It was especially foolish considering you hadn’t been in the city for long. Unfamiliar streets looked more so in the dark. Questions dropped from your mind to settle heavy in your gut.

Where could you go now?

Your place wasn’t safe.

Who could you ask for help?

You didn’t want to put anyone in danger. No one would help a stranger at this time of night, anyway. Especially not when the Knights of Ren had been seen prowling.

Did Kylo know you were here?

He had to have sensed you. Your blood called to him. It must be the reason they were here.

A soft shuffle behind you threw you into action. You dashed down the street, away from the noise, away from the Knights of Ren. Surroundings blurred. Streetlights punctuated the dark. Your ragged breathing drowned out all other sounds.

You turned right, then left, then another right.

Before long, you had to slow. Your legs nearly gave out. You felt like you were running in circles. Everything remained unfamiliar, yet a sense of déjà vu remained. That storefront looked similar to one a few blocks back. Same with the pile of leaking garbage bags at the curb.

Or were they new?

You skidded to a stop by an unlit alley and braced yourself with hands on your knees.

You were alone. Not even a rat skittered. You slumped against the nearest building. A bead of sweat trickled above your eyebrow.

Whispering a curse, you wiped it away and inhaled lungfuls of air.

“You made this game quite easy.”

You froze. That oh-so familiar voice came from the alley.

“It’s like you want me to catch you, sweetness.”

As if made from the misty shadows themselves, Kylo’s silhouette manifested at the edge of a cone of streetlight. He leaned a shoulder on the nearby wall, insouciant.

Fear, like jagged ice, kept you immobile. The connection you had with him yanked at your breastbone. You grappled with the lure of stepping closer.

“You must be exhausted.”

You staggered away, feet nearly tripping over each other in your haste. The cracked concrete went indistinct as you turned to sprint. Arms like iron wrapped around your middle and pulled you into the alley. You stiffened, though you knew better.

A victim was supposed to go limp. It made an attacker work harder.

You squirmed between stiff and limp, kicking your feet. You drew yourself up to scream. A huge hand — warm, he’d just fed — covered your mouth.

Your muffled cries fell on a deaf city.

He tutted. “None of that.”

You couldn’t stop. There was a chance to get away. If only you could loosen his hold. You clawed at the arm around your waist. No tugging or scratching earned you freedom.

Blood-scented breath ghosted over your neck. A nose nuzzled into your hair. Soft lips brushed the shell of your ear.

Kylo breathed, “I have missed you.”

You paused at his sincerity, eyes closing.

No, you couldn’t give in.

You pulled at the hand covering your mouth. When it didn’t move, you slapped it. He let his hand drift to your shoulder, but not before his fingertips caressed your lips. You wanted to spit the feeling off.

“Did you miss me?” he asked.

You hissed, “No,” and elbowed him in the ribs. “No.”

He tutted again. “You wound me,” he said, though he hardly sounded hurt.

He tucked his firm body against yours off-center and placed a tender kiss on your neck.

A shiver rolled through you, bringing with it memories of pleasure and promises.

“Stop it! Lemme go!”

“Back to that?” He sighed. “After all we’ve been through?”

Tears pricked your eyes.

“I don’t want to hurt you, my sweet.” His hand slid to your throat, making you stretch and inhale. “Yet every time you flee.” His grip tightened and voice hardened. “Every time you seek my wrath.” He canted your chin to expose your jugular. “And every time you lock horns with me, it’s others who get hurt.”

You’d caused someone to suffer. Or maybe die this time.

“Don’t fret. It was quick,” he said. “They didn’t have time to scream.”

Vic. That was what their wife’s call must’ve been about.

You squeezed your eyes shut. A delicate tear rolled into your ear.

You’d killed them. You hadn’t meant to choose them, but you had. By keeping their company, you’d sicced Kylo on them. You knew what he was capable of. You realized it years ago. He’d killed so many.

Your gut twisted.

Your voice cracked as you asked, “Why?” You shook your head as much as you were able. “I don’t— I never wanted—” You swallowed around a dry throat. “Fuck, why?”

Why me? Why do you want me? Why do you care? Why don’t you kill me already?

Kylo’s hold loosened. His hand traveled to splay across your upper chest.

“I want to give you everything. All of me.”

His hand disappeared, and two fingers guided your chin to the side. You complied and opened your eyes.

“Anything you want. Just stay by my side.”

You studied his dark pupils rimmed in red, seeing his hunger and ruthlessness and loneliness. None of that had been apparent when he’d barged into your life.

“Just give me your heart.”

“I don’t want—”

He cut off your protest with a kiss.

You hadn’t protested at the start. It felt good to be desired by a dreadful monster like him. He’d opened himself, answered every question.

He’d told you about his mortal life. His mother Leia Skywalker had been part of the dvoryanstvo — Russian nobility. She’d run away to the United Colonies, where she’d fallen in love with some reprobate. Being a proper lady, she’d married him, bedded him, and proceeded to get with child. Leia ran home when colonial life no longer suited her. She’d had her child — a son: him — during the crossing.

Since Leia was married, and Kylo not a bastard, they were welcomed at court. The reprobate soon followed. The tsarina found the Amidala-Skywalker and now -Solo clan quite the curiosity. The tsar enjoyed Solo’s hunting skills.

Kylo said he remembered standing with his grandmother and mother to watch the gilded debutantes being presented at court. His grandmother whispered innocent gossip to him between introductions. His mother appeared to ignore them, but she listened just the same.

On a snowy evening mid-season, Armitage Hux, a distant cousin of the tsar, returned from the west. Accompanying him was a peculiar Dr. Snoke. The tsarina was captivated by Dr. Snoke as though spellbound. She favored Dr. Snoke, going so far as to appoint him court physician.

Armitage took to strutting about every dinner and ball. He was obsessed with Dr. Snoke’s scientific experiments, discussing results in esoteric terms. He collected blood from the hares, foxes, and deer during hunting excursions. At first, Kylo assumed like everyone else it was for these experiments.

Then he found Armitage in Dr. Snoke’s laboratory with bloodstained lips, a beaker of fresh blood in his hand. In a frenzy, Armitage explained that blood wasn’t only a humor. It was the source of life.

You’d stopped him to ask why he’d been visiting Dr. Snoke’s lab. Kylo replied Dr. Snoke had wanted him to read a few books from his private collection. Dr. Snoke promised more knowledge than the tutors his mother hired. Naturally, Kylo had been intrigued.

Intrigued enough not to run from the laboratory.

Armitage showed Kylo a chart of his own making on the distillation of power — “a force connecting everything” — through the blood, from feeble insect to apex predator. Armitage was certain one could accumulate this power by devouring the essence of weaker creatures.

Kylo understood the logic, yet something about how Armitage explained it troubled him. With that reasoning, the most potent essence would be from their fellow man. That sounded taboo.

When he next saw Dr. Snoke, he mentioned Armitage’s alarming hypothesis. Displeasure flashed across Dr. Snoke’s face. Kylo thought he’d made a mistake by broaching the topic. However, Dr. Snoke explained he’d been putting off that lesson until Kylo had more scientific understanding.

In his arrogance, Kylo insisted he could grasp any lesson Dr. Snoke wished to teach.

He thought privately Armitage, who everyone knew to be a bastard, wouldn’t best him. It hardly mattered how many lies his father Brendol spouted. Brendol Hux hid some misfortune for the crown and used that fact to force his family upon the rest of the court.

Dr. Snoke promised Kylo wisdom beyond anything he’d been exposed to thus far. He asked when, and Dr. Snoke offered him an apprenticeship. Dr. Snoke would be journeying west once more in the spring. Kylo could join him.

His mother forbade it. She attempted to lure him into staying by introducing him to any debutante who would indulge her. She bargained. She cajoled. She bribed. When she remained unsuccessful, she turned their whole family against him. Their objections were all they’d discuss with him.

Towards the end of March, the ice broke on the river, and the snow started to melt. He left his family home in the small hours of the night. He met Dr. Snoke and Armitage at the harbor and boarded a ship headed for France.

At every port along the way, Dr. Snoke disappeared while Kylo and Armitage dined. He asked Armitage if he knew where Dr. Snoke went, but Armitage lied when he said he didn’t. Apprehension kept Kylo from asking Dr. Snoke directly.

Kylo said he realized much later he had asked Snoke, but Snoke made him forget.

In Gothenburg, he gathered the courage to follow Dr. Snoke. He feigned a sour stomach to avoid dinner. The sun had just fallen below the horizon. Townspeople lit their outdoor lanterns. None appeared to notice Dr. Snoke trekking through the streets, which seemed improbable since the doctor was exceptionally tall and dressed in foreign garb.

Dr. Snoke turned down a side street as if he were familiar with the city. Kylo waited at the corner to observe Dr. Snoke halt at an open gate. Dr. Snoke’s demeanor went from innocent visitor to ravening fiend in the blink of an eye. His shoulders hunched. His hands became claws. His shaved head suddenly reminded Kylo of a vulture.

Dr. Snoke darted through the gate. Kylo expected to hear the scuffling of feet or a scream, but there was only silence.

Kylo ran to the gate to find no one. He turned first to where he’d come from, then down the street. Both sides were deserted. He didn’t understand. No one simply disappeared.

He took a step forward to investigate. The lifeless body of a girl hit the stones before he could take another. Her dark braids wreathed the splatter of gore. Her joints bent at wrong angles. He stumbled backwards, heel catching. Strong hands caught his shoulders and spun him.

He found himself staring into the red, hypnotic eyes of Dr. Snoke.

“I see you couldn’t stay on the ship,” said Dr. Snoke, who tilted his head like a great hunting cat.

Kylo saw his fangs for the first time.

“And now you wonder if Armitage has known all along.”

Which was true.

“He has,” Dr. Snoke said, sliding his hands to Kylo’s neck and turning down the collar of his overcoat. “So, tell me, are you in danger?”

Tears welled in Kylo’s eyes as he whispered, “I’ve always been in danger.”

“Too right.”

Dr. Snoke struck then. His sharp teeth pierced Kylo’s jugular and drank deep. Kylo felt the sinful pull in his groin. Despite that, he shoved at Dr. Snoke’s chest. It was as though he’d lost his strength. He felt like a pup taking on a bear.

He opened his mouth to protest, though no sound came.

Dr. Snoke held him tight, pressed him to the nearest brick wall, and ground between his legs. Kylo’s gorge rose, but his body didn’t have the strength to heave.

He knew he was dying. Dr. Snoke was killing him. Dr. Snoke would use him until there’d be no more. A spark of anger flared in his gut. He balled his hands into fists and struck Dr. Snoke. His furious heart hammered behind his ribs. This wasn’t supposed to be his death. He wouldn’t end here.

He croaked broken words, groaning at the effort.

Dr. Snoke withdrew with a chuckle, blood trickling down his chin.

“Such resolve! Such strength!” He grasped Kylo’s chin. “You think you have the stamina, Young Solo?”

This was what Armitage had spoken of. There was power in the blood. Dr. Snoke had discovered a way to harness it. He had kept the truth behind Armitage’s collecting blood and his own scientific experiments hidden. They’d lied to him.

Kylo snarled.

Lovingly, Dr. Snoke said, “Beautiful beast,” and smiled, bloody teeth flashing.

Dr. Snoke unsheathed his blade and slit his own wrist. Blood, dark like a desiccated rose, oozed from the cut. The scent of it familiar and ancient.

He watched his hands bring the wound to his mouth. Blood smeared over his bottom lip and poured into his mouth like scalding rain. He dissolved into unknown pleasure, torn apart as if ravaged. He was destroyed and built anew with Dr. Snoke’s blood.

He experienced everything at that moment: the metal taste on his tongue, the hint of spring in the air, the way their hearts synchronized for a second, the emptiness of his veins, the magic in the blood permeating every fiber of his being.

It happened so quickly it was dizzying. It was a taste, then a fact.

The infinite stretched out before him, all possibilities spread like the fan of playing cards on a table.

He’d told you Dr. Snoke became simply Snoke and Armitage had been satisfied as an unaging thrall. When you’d asked what happened to Snoke and Armitage, Kylo replied he didn’t know. He’d escaped Snoke’s clutches decades earlier.

He’d said how grateful he was to have found you: a comfort like he’d never known. His eyes had been so warm.

Yet his eyes weren’t warm when he’d caught you.

You pushed at him, but Kylo’s grip was unyielding. Your protests only inspired him to strengthen his hold. He gripped your jaw to open your mouth. You mewled as he teased your tongue with his own. It knocked the breath from your lungs, as it always did.

The hard length of his cock against your hip made you shiver. Maybe shudder. You wanted him, yet you shouldn’t. He was terrifying, yet putty in your hands. He was a killer, yet wanted to be your weapon.

Gentle fingers crawled under the loose hem of your shirt, brushing the skin above your waistband. His arm tensed. He was going to tear you open, claw at your tender belly.

You thrashed to get away before he could.

Kylo broke the kiss and tightened his hold on your jaw.

“Stop this, or I’ll give you a fucking you can’t walk away from.”

Your breath seized. He meant— He wouldn’t— Oh God, yes, he would. He would force his cock in your ass and drink your blood until you passed out. While he’d never done that to you, he’d done it to one of Armitage’s lackeys. He’d said it was for a transgression.

You’d gone beyond a simple transgression. You’d been running from Kylo for over two years.

“Kylo, please,” you said as your vision blurred with tears. “Please, just let me go.”

You knew he wouldn’t.

He pulled away.

You teetered from a lack of support and weakened legs. He caught your upper arm and shoved you against the wall. You braced yourself on bent arms. The bricks’ texture caught at your shirt and palms. The scent of wet stone and musty mildew invaded your nose.

He cradled your hips and asked, “Let you go…?”

His lips caressed your neck, dragging up your skin. You wanted to flinch from his touch, but he moved down until his forehead rested on your shoulder.

“How many times must we go through this? This game of cat-and-mouse?”

A hand slid up your side and rounded your ribs to cup a breast. You closed your eyes as a frisson of pleasure had your nipple tightening.

“How many people must I go through for you to see we can’t be separated?”

He squeezed your breast just this side of too harsh. You bit your lip. His other hand wended around your waist.

“How many times do I need to fuck you for that to sink in, hm? Surely by now you understand your place.”

He released your breast to tug at the button of your jeans.

Your eyes flew open as you pushed at his hand.

“Kylo, no.”

“Yes,” he hissed. “You need to accept it.”

He undid your jeans and spread the fly.

You realized you’d been a fool to think you could get away. You’d been a fool to believe he wasn’t still Snoke’s, that your love alone would change his heart.

You batted at his forearms, then gripped his wrists. He didn’t budge at your scrabbling hands. He barely reacted to them. Instead, he brushed his lips against the side of your neck.

You stiffened, anticipating the bite of fangs.

“I can’t, I can’t— Kylo, I don’t— I never wanted—”

You’d only wanted the person behind the monster.

It was a tragedy they were one and the same.

Kylo stilled, his lips a scant centimeter from your skin.

You stilled. Your words had been a mistake. Just like leaving him behind had been a mistake. And the most egregious mistake: getting involved with him in the first place.

Despite that being true, Kylo was correct about never wanting to hurt you. He never had. He could and had hurt others, but never you. He’d bitten you, drank your blood, gripped your hips hard when he took you.

But he didn’t hurt you.

In fact, he made you feel good. He made you writhe and moan with blinding, white-hot pleasure. Your mind went blank when he thrust his thick, monstrous cock into you. That might be worse than any fist or fang. Pain you could get over, but pleasure not as easily.

He whispered, “I think you need a reminder of where you belong, sweetness.”

Those words reverberated you into the past. That night had been like this one: quiet, starless, and calm. Until it wasn’t.

The world had tilted on its axis when someone threw you into an SUV while you’d been checking your mailbox after work. Terror choked off your screams before they even gagged you. Rope looped around your wrists and ankles tight enough to bruise.

A long-fingered hand seized your chin and made you meet blue eyes as the vehicle started moving. The man would’ve been handsome with his angular face and long ginger hair if not for the contemptuous sneer marring his full lips. His gray suit was Savile Row crisp, and his black Chelsea boots gleamed in the overhead light.

“Ren’s precious little blood-whore,” he spat and threw your head to the side, where it bounced against the back of the bench seat.

“You sure about this?” the driver asked.

“He will capitulate for this one. Snoke foresaw it.”

At the name “Snoke,” you wiggled away until your back hit the door. Your kidnapper appeared bored and pulled a pistol from his jacket. He braced his arm between the seat and his chest to aim at your face.

You looked from the steady pistol to his face and back again.

“Listen well, you stupid slut,” he said. “You are in no position to escape. You chose this the moment you let that fool into your life.”

You wanted to protest that you hadn’t let Kylo into your life. He’d slithered in on his own.

A tiny voice replied, And you let him stay.

You had. You’d done nothing to stop him, even after it was apparent what a monster Kylo could be.

You’d curled into the corner to stare out the SUV’s tinted windows. They’d tied the knots at the back of your hands, so you couldn’t reach them. You certainly wouldn’t dare bring them to your mouth to work them open with your teeth.

When the SUV stopped, they manhandled you through an abandoned convenience store. In the stockroom, a bald man sat at a bare card table. Scars like melted wax trailed down one side of his face. He wore a gold smoking jacket, loose slacks, and velvet loafers. You nearly laughed. He looked like a Hugh Hefner cosplayer. The only thing missing was a white captain’s hat.

A hand on your shoulder forced you to sit in the folding chair across from him. When you met the bald man’s eyes, any witty remark died in your mouth. His gaze was too intense, too stern, too disapproving — and too ancient.

This was Snoke.

The gag fell from your face.

“You saw Kylo Ren yesternight, did you not?” he asked mildly.

His voice rumbled like strange thunder. He breathed in as if he could taste you on the air, like a snake senses prey.

Despite your mouth being freed, you could only bob your head.

“Yes, of course. Quite understandable now why it’s so difficult for him.” Snoke’s expression turned forgiving as he leaned over his crossed legs. “You are quite the delectable temptation.”

Your gut twisted and toes curled in your shoes at the compliment. You didn’t want to be a temptation for Snoke, nor did you want him sampling any part of you.

Crashing chaos erupted from the storefront. People screamed. Cracked steel and shattered glass exploded through the open door.

You launched yourself to the cold concrete floor, bringing your bound wrists to your mouth. The metallic pop-pop-pop of gunfire snapped overhead. You bit at the first knot and pulled. Hot bullet casings clanked nearby. The knot gave way to the next. You wrenched the next one loose, then shook your hands until the rope slipped from your wrists.

A tide of black vapor surged into the storeroom. It blinded you, but it didn’t stop you from groping for your restrained ankles. The rope there made no sense. You couldn’t find the knots.

Come on! you yelled at yourself, finding the knots. Come on!

You twisted and gritted your teeth and almost cried when you couldn’t undo them.

Light returned to the room as the vapor converged into a figure with broad shoulders and long legs. Unmistakably Kylo. It was the first time you’d remembered seeing him do something like that.

However, you couldn’t focus on him. He was fine. On the other hand, you had to free yourself and escape.

Black boots planted themselves on the floor, spread hip-width apart. Yards beyond them lay the lifeless body of your kidnapper, his head rotated at an unnatural angle. That lovely ginger hair veiled his closed eyes.

You pulled your gaze away to untie the knots.

“Ah, Kylo Ren,” Snoke said warmly. “Thank you for honoring my summons for once.”

Kylo replied with a tight, “Master.”

As quietly as you could, you pulled the knots loose and unwrapped your ankles. Snoke and Kylo had to have known you were still alive, but you didn’t want Snoke directing his attention to you. Nor did you want to distract Kylo.

Snoke’s voice sounded as though he had multiple voice boxes when he ordered, “Come. Kneel.”

Kylo staggered to Snoke and dropped to his knees.

Your mouth went dry. Your heart beat double-time. You were about to witness Kylo’s death. Snoke would take his head and drain you dry. Or worse: make Kylo kill you.

You couldn’t let either of them do that. You wouldn’t allow Snoke to torture him like that. Not like this. Not ever.

Even if it meant not being with Kylo again.

You eased to your knees and crept around your chair. Kylo’s back was to you, but Snoke faced the door. There was no way to leave without Snoke seeing.

“Where are you going, myshonok?” Snoke asked.

You went rigid, one knee hovering above the floor.

“Join me at the table.”

If you sat, what horrors would you witness? What would he make you do? How angry was he?

“Sit.”

“No,” Kylo ordered. “Ru—”

Snoke silenced him with a blow.

Kylo’s head jerked back, blood arcing from his face.

You gasped, already on your knees.

“I said,” Snoke repeated. “Sit.”

You were in the chair before you made the decision to stand. Your brain filled in the gaps: you stood, took the necessary steps to come around the chair, and sat.

“Stay. Be quiet.”

You glanced at Kylo. Blood bisected his cheek and tracked to his forehead. You waited for the cut to heal, but it didn’t. It just bled.

That didn’t make sense.

“Kylo Ren, I’ll give you a choice — like I do in all things,” Snoke said lightly, as if he hadn’t just wounded his progeny. “You can erase your presence from her mind, you can kill her, or you can turn her.”

“No, Master, don’t—”

“You’ve forced my hand in this matter. She knows too much.”

Kylo was quiet for a moment, then:

“If I take her memory, you’ll leave her in peace.”

“Her, yes.”

You mentally screamed for him to refuse. Snoke agreed to you being left alone, but not Kylo. You couldn’t allow Snoke to take him from you.

You willed through Snoke’s hold to say, “Turn me, Kylo, change me. Just don’t go, don’t let him—”

Snoke said, “You belong to him. It’s not your decision.”

The hell it wasn’t.

You wanted to race for the street, get away from them both, yet your feet wouldn’t obey. You gripped the seat of your chair hard enough your fingers went numb.

To Kylo, he said, “Do it.”

You shook your head as Kylo shuffled closer.

Please don’t do this. Please snap out of it. Please, please, please…

A single metallic pop rang through the storeroom. Kylo cried out, gripping his shoulder, and toppled against the table. Another pop. Snoke’s expression went from smug to shocked. Blood burst from his chest.

Snoke’s hold disappeared.

Kylo yelled, “Go! Run!”

You threw yourself out of the chair and sprinted through the store. Broken bodies, warped metal shelves, and shards of glass littered the floor. You sidestepped and leapt over each obstacle, not allowing your gaze to linger on any of it.

“Kylo!” Snoke bellowed and continued in a language you didn’t understand.

You couldn’t leave Kylo back there, though, bleeding and at the mercy of his maker.

Kylo yelled for you to go again.

You ran out of the convenience store and never looked back.

And you never stopped running.

Because nowhere was safe — not with Snoke out there and Kylo potentially under his control.

Kylo now sucked harshly at your neck, claiming you. Your thighs trembled as a big hand snaked inside your underwear to caress your belly. You couldn’t help but arch into his touch.

“Spread those legs for me.” He gripped the curve of your belly, fingers teasing your pubic hair. “I’ll remind you of your place.”

He cupped your mound. Two fingers dipped into your slit. It was mortifying to feel yourself slick.

He chuckled low in his chest.

“You’re going to moan for me.”

You shook your head and hid your face. You didn’t want him to see how you bit your lip to stifle your voice.

He pushed two thick fingers inside your cunt, filling and stretching. You gasped. It had been too long. He murmured soothing words against your neck while he massaged you from the inside. His palm pressed against your clit.

You tried not to move, to quiver, to make a sound. You told yourself it shouldn’t feel so good. You should push him away and run.

His other hand slid up your torso to cup one of your breasts. This time, he was gentle. The fingers inside you pumped slowly while he massaged your breast and teased the nipple. You were caressed, from the full lips nuzzling at your neck to the patient hand between your legs.

Kylo knew your body too well, and you hadn’t experienced his touch in so long. It haunted your lonely hours. Your own touch hardly compared.

“You’ll whimper my name and ask for more.”

He scissored his fingers to stretch your needy cunt.

You nearly asked him for more right there, but he continued:

“And you’ll come on my cock when I give it to you, won’t you?”

You jerked in his hold. He answered by pushing forward to grind the mound of his erection against your ass. He dragged the tips of his fangs over your skin, nipped at the sore spot he’d already sucked there, before placing the softest kiss.

“Exactly like you always do, my sweet.”

He pulled his hand from between your legs.

You opened your mouth to protest. He moved quicker than any human to turn your head, fingers wet with your juices, and silenced you with a kiss. His tongue swiped across yours, warm and exhilarating. You returned the kiss and tunneled your fingers into his thick hair, brushing the subtle point of his ear. He plunged his hand into the front of your underwear again.

Unerringly, he found your clit and swirled hypnotic circles around it. Your pussy became wetter by the second, easing the glide of his fingers.

Against your parted lips, he said, “That’s how it’ll always be.”

But you weren’t Kylo’s blood-whore. Your kidnapper had been wrong. They all were wrong about you.

Kylo kissed you, claiming and deep and wrong and so filthy, you couldn’t mute a moan. He found a rhythm on your clit that made your cunt flutter and breath catch. You fisted his hair as you panted between sharp kisses.

You wanted to cover yourself and hide when his lips curled in a knowing grin.

You tore your mouth from his.

“Stop,” you said, though it didn’t sound convincing even to your own ears.

He ignored you, his clever fingers sending sparks of pleasure down your spine.

“I don’t… I can’t—” You clenched your jaw as your thighs quaked and muscles tensed. You were so close, orgasm building. “Kylo, I— I’m…”

He slipped his hand from your underwear, leaving you desperate for relief. Your cunt weakly pulsed as your orgasm died. You panted and let your forehead fall against the damp wall. Your combined shadows stained the concrete.

Kylo held your heaving ribs. He trailed delicate kisses along your nape. It was at once a connection and a reminder he could tear your spine out.

Wet fingers traced your bottom lip. You smelled the tang of your own arousal and clenched your teeth.

Kylo nosed at your ear to whisper, “I want to taste you on your tongue.”

You’d done that for him countless times. It drove him mad. He’d suck your flavor off your tongue while moaning and grinding his hips. He’d hold you tight while growling praises in your ear and working his big cock deep inside.

You shook your head and squeezed your eyes closed, despite knowing you’d ultimately lose this war. The only thing you could do was oppose his every pleasure in this last battle.

“Why are you still fighting me, sweetness?” he asked.

Your breath went uneven and your chest trembled.

You didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want to fight him—

But Snoke.

Snoke was out there. He’d force Kylo to ruin what you two had.

The thought made tears flood your eyes and stream down your cheeks. When you sobbed, Kylo pushed two fingers between your teeth and pried open your jaw. You didn’t have to see it to sense his heated gaze. Kylo always — always — watched you.

The taste of salt and blood and musk coated your mouth. You refused to participate, remaining still as his fingers explored your tongue. Every measured stroke of his fingers tantalized — and aroused — no matter how much you denied it.

He withdrew his fingers and asked, “Why are you fighting me?”

“Please, don’t…”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t take me back to Snoke.”

Kylo nuzzled your cheek and shushed you. He kissed away your tears as slick digits smeared against your lips.

Your breath shuddered around a powerful unease expanding in your gut. You’d been foolish to think you’d get away. This was only delaying the inevitable. Kylo was toying with you. No doubt he had every intention of dragging you in front of Snoke where they’d decide your fate.

You were Kylo’s, and Kylo was Snoke’s. It was in the blood. Not even bleeding yourself dry would grant you a reprieve. The connection you had with Kylo wouldn’t fade, even with death.

“I can’t take you back to Snoke.”

“What? He’ll hunt—”

“No, he won’t.”

You half-turned to look into Kylo’s dark eyes and found him undaunted.

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m Master now.”

His eyes flared red, brighter than before.

You shook your head. What had happened in the time you’d been gone? Why hadn’t he told you from the start? Why had he hurt everyone around you?

“His power resides in me alone,” Kylo said. “And now I’ve come to claim what’s mine.”

Not giving you time to form a question or voice it, he put his hand around your throat and crashed his lips against yours. Flesh ground against bone. His fingertips bruised. You were the meat to his butcher.

He groaned after a moment, as though relishing the near violence.

“Open.”

This time, you did.

He kissed you tenderly, sucking on your swollen bottom lip. His fangs grazed your skin. He flicked your tongue with his. You shivered at the silken touch of his preternatural tongue.

He made a satisfied sound deep in his chest at the taste of your arousal.

“Where is your place in this, sweetness?”

You blinked through the haze in your mind. You couldn’t form a reply.

“I…”

With a merciful shush, he turned you to face away. You placed your palms on the dirty wall. His hands caressed your sides until his thumbs hooked in the waistband of your underwear.

He couldn’t— Not here—

The haze fractured.

“No, Kylo, we can’t!”

He pressed you hard against the wall and put a hand across your mouth. Your underwear and jeans continued to slip down your hips.

“We can. I own the night and everything in it.”

Which included you.

Your lower body followed his as he straightened until your back was a perfect arch. The clammy air whispered between your legs, cooled your inner thighs. He kicked your feet farther apart.

Your eyes widen. He was going to take you like this, for anyone to see.

Your breath hitched at the press of his fingers at your soaked hole. He teased with swirling touches. You tried to keep your hips still, because moving was agreeing. It was acquiescing.

Kylo slid two fingers inside. Your cunt clenched around the intrusion. He purred and encouraged you to rest your head on his shoulder. He pushed deeper, slowly cycling his fingers. You rotated your knees inward, though you couldn’t fathom how your legs kept you upright.

His fingers retreated and pressed in, languid and thorough, as if trying to touch every part of your cunt. You turned your head to lean your forehead on his jaw.

He braced himself with a hand on the wall. You touched the back of his hand with shaking fingers. The fingers inside you sped.

You gasped, then bit the inside of your cheek.

“It’s been too long, hasn’t it?” he asked. “Your sweet little pussy isn’t used to this.”

You bit harder. You could only focus on his fingers fucking you open. He twisted his hand until his knuckles rubbed over your g-spot. You squirmed and swallowed a whimper.

“Let go, let me hear you. It’s just me and you here.”

“Ky-Kylo, please! Don’t— I can’t…”

“Yes, you can.”

A third finger eased inside to stretch you even more. Bolts of hot pleasure had you losing your breath. His fingers moved in measured thrusts, over and over. You clung to the wall as your knees almost buckled.

Then he pulled away. You twitched back to follow him or encourage him to continue. Full lips brushed your temple. His big hands took hold of your hips and raised you onto your toes.

“Just like that.”

Your heart leapt into your throat. He was going to take you here. If you tried to flee, he’d catch you within two strides.

Did you want to flee, though?

His touch left your body, giving you the opportunity. The metallic sound of his zipper opening held you in place. It had been too long. The weight of your connection to Kylo fixed you to the spot.

Heat smeared across your inner thigh. Knuckles brushed the underside of your ass. Then the thick tip of his cock parted your folds. You arched your back further, knowing what was coming.

Yet it didn’t come.

Kylo kept sliding his cock in your slit. He teased your stretched hole and the exposed bud of your clit. He did it until you rocked with him.

“Your place has always been in my bed.” He pressed his hard chest to your back. “Will always be. Beside me. With me.”

Your vision swam. The bricks blurred.

“Don’t ever forget it.”

A voluptuous pressure at your entrance made your eyes go wide. Hot tears spilled over your cheeks. You didn’t know how to respond, though you’d never forget his words.

Without warning, Kylo snapped his hips to impale you halfway down his cock. Beyond your control, a choked animal noise left your chest to resound through the empty alley. The bricks’ rough texture scraped your forearms and palms. Your body contracted around the heavy intrusion splitting you open.

Lips flitted along the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

“Just like this,” he murmured against your skin.

You groaned his name.

Kylo tensed and latched his hands to your hips and surged forward. He buried his cock completely in your pulsing cunt, pelvis tight to your ass.

You threw your head back with a piercing gasp.

He growled like the predator he was.

It was too much. It was like the first time with him. Every nodule on his cock woke nerves long asleep. You panted and shimmied and squirmed as your body acclimated. Each minute movement only added to your growing anticipation.

He gritted out, “Just like this — wrapped around my dick.”

He drew back. You protested with a small noise. He drove forward to start a brutal pace that had your vision narrowing and the edges darkening.

“Filled with my come.”

You trembled with every thrust. Your cunt got impossibly wetter with his words. He must’ve known, must’ve felt how they made you clench. Just like you knew your body — and heart — would accept him.

It had never hurt, and a part of you hated that. You hated how your body obeyed Kylo’s command. You hated how natural it was to kiss him, how easy your lips slotted with his. You hated how he fit so sublimely in you.

It was like you’d been made for him.

He angled his thrusts, somehow hitting even deeper, stroking every sensitive spot between your legs. The hands on your hips tightened as he pounded into you harder.

You moaned and pushed back. He hissed a “yes” and found that perfect rhythm. Your head spun. You clawed at the bricks while he continued an unrelenting assault.

You swallowed gasps and cut off another moan. One of his hands swooped to your jaw, tilting it up, stretching your neck.

“Don’t hide from me. Ever.”

Your breath caught.

“No, promise.”

His voice was black silk when he said, “Taking it so well. Such a good girl.”

You almost replied you wanted to be good for him. Only him.

He must’ve sensed it, because he stopped.

“No, don’t,” you said.

“Tell me. Tell me you feel it, too. Tell me.”

Tell me tell me tell me…

“I do! I feel it!” You shook your head as much as he’d let you. “Please, don’t— Please, I… I want to be good for you!”

Kylo groaned and tucked his face into your shoulder. His cock throbbed. He was going to bite you now. You knew it, could feel it.

His front teeth jabbed into your shoulder through your shirt. His fangs were so close. You hadn’t felt the sting and pull from his bite in so long.

You writhed in what you hated to admit was anticipation. At the same time, you mentally begged him to do it. Put you out of your misery. End the chase, the uncertainty, the killings. End you, if that was the culmination of this war.

He cursed and wrenched the collar of your shirt away. Stitches popped. Fangs pierced the juncture of your neck — a momentary pain. Hot suction followed, connecting your neck to your dripping, aching cunt. It gilded the coiling, molten pleasure building in your core.

He released your hip and plunged his hand between your legs. You bucked your lower body at the touch, torn between his hand and inhuman cock.

Then he began to thrust. He stroked your clit and sucked at your neck. You felt every mouthful of blood drawn from your veins, every slick-slide of his fingers on your clit, every harsh pump of his cock.

He worked your body, even as your muscles locked. You couldn’t move, couldn’t think. The tension and pressure built until you thought you’d explode with it.

But you didn’t.

You shook with each punishing thrust as he fucked you into a devastating orgasm. It burned through you like liquid fire. Wave after wave pulled you into its surge. Your mouth fell open with a silent scream. You couldn’t breathe. Heavy tears streamed down the outside of your face.

Kylo put a hand on your belly, smearing your come on your skin. His cock pistoned faster in your clenching cunt. He released your neck with a snarl. Warmth trickled over your collarbone.

“Kylo,” you mouthed.

He exhaled against your neck, breath tinged with iron.

“Plea—” Your voice broke. “Please, Kylo…”

“Please what?”

His soft tongue slithered over the tender puncture wounds.

Please, no more, you wanted to say. Please, don’t stop.

“Just… Please—”

Please take it all away.

He growled and snapped his hips forward. His pelvis slapped against your ass brutally — once, twice, three times. He buried his cock as deep as it would go before moaning. His cock pulsed. His come gushed, thick like honey, and filled you to overflowing. The warmth of it oozed down your thighs.

It was still for a brittle-edged moment.

Kylo placed his lips on your neck in a lewd mockery of a kiss. His breath puffed across your skin, as if his heart beat like a hammer. As if he had a heart.

You whispered, “Why do you keep hunting me?”

He wrapped his arms around your middle.

“Don’t you remember me saying I’d never let you go?”

Of course you did. However, people say that kind of thing in the throes of passion all the time. You assumed Kylo, despite being a vampire, was no different.

He said, “I call you my sweetness because you’re mine.”

His hands skimmed to your waist and steadied you as he eased his softening cock from your body. Your legs gave out, but he kept you from collapsing. You grabbed the bricks to catch yourself and leaned heavily on the wall, tilting out of Kylo’s hold.

Now that the sex was done, you yanked your underwear and jeans up over your hips. His syrupy come squished in your underwear and clung to the inside of your jeans. You cringed at the swampy feeling and the fact you’d let Kylo fuck you where anyone — everyone — could see.

The Knights of Ren couldn’t be far. They’d probably heard everything. Hell, they might’ve even watched.

You refastened your jeans and propped yourself against the wall in an attempt to muster a little dignity. It didn’t matter what stained your clothes now. They were already dirty with stress-sweat, come, and blood. Whatever garbage juice was splattered in the alley couldn’t make them grosser.

Kylo stood composed and less than a yard away, watching you. Always watching.

You resisted the urge to go to him and bask in his touch — the way he’d smooth your hair and cup your cheek. Like you were a beloved pet.

He’d made you his blood-whore.

The bite on your neck throbbed.

“I said I’m here to claim what’s mine. That still stands.”

You inhaled a stuttering breath and stared at his scuffed motorcycle boots.

“Snoke nearly took you from me,” he said. “You, who I want beside me every night.”

“But not forever.”

You were mortal. You would die. Time would end things, even if Snoke couldn’t anymore.

“Not forever if you keep running.”

You looked into his eyes that were the beautiful warm brown you adored. They went red. Your heart sped. They looked too much like Snoke’s.

“Stop running from me, sweetness.”

You blinked at the reverberating command. Your feet planted themselves to the concrete. You’d been running from Snoke, not Kylo. If Kylo told the truth, and Snoke really was dead, there was no point in running. You didn’t need to be apart from Kylo.

“You are everything good in my existence,” he said. “I refuse to be separated from you any longer.” He slashed at the air. “I won’t allow anyone to stand in my way.”

Not even you.

He’d made sure of that, too. Everyone you’d become friendly with in your mad dash from anyone vampiric had been killed. It’d been your fault. You’d acted like a spooked rabbit, running from burrow to burrow — and condemning every soul along the way.

He took a half-step closer.

“Am I not yours?”

“If you were mine, you’d know not to hurt people who’ve helped me.”

“Helped you?” He tilted his head with a huff. “Helped you? They allowed you to live in squalor.”

You let out a scornful laugh and crossed your arms over your chest.

Living in pre-furnished studio apartments or clean hostels wasn’t what you’d call squalor. It wasn’t a gothic castle overlooking a forested valley, either. Then again, no one you’d worked with lived in better conditions. Not even Vic, who only had a cozy one-bedroom.

Kylo held out a hand.

“Come with me. Let me give you what you deserve.”

You glanced at his broad palm and long, sturdy fingers. There was a time when those hands cradled you and loved you. There was a time when you didn’t know what they looked like covered in blood.

“I deserve peace,” you said.

“I can give you peace and safety. I’ll give you anything you want.”

You read between his lines. He’d give you anything as long as you stayed with him. If you explored the world on your own, you’d be exposed — as would he. You’d always be a weak point to exploit. You’d always be vulnerable. Snoke had figured that out.

You uncrossed your arms and looked into his eyes. Red encircled his irises, as though his vampire nature had been eclipsed.

“Give me your blood. Make me strong like you. Make me a vampire.”

He reared back as if you’d swiped at him. Astonishment painted his features.

“You want me to be your sire?”

“You want me beside you every night, don’t you?”

He breathed, “You love me.”

“Do you love me?”

He wet his bottom lip — such a human gesture — while his gaze darted to the side.

“I shouldn’t. It is a hindrance.” His dark eyes were like pools of deep water when they met yours. “You’ve seen what my kind do to each other.”

He indicated the scar going up his cheek. Snoke had missed ruining Kylo’s eye by millimeters.

You nodded and moved closer to touch the scar. It was a smooth, narrow groove in his blood-warmed flesh.

If Snoke had struck you like he’d stuck Kylo, it would’ve destroyed your jaw and cheekbone. You would’ve had implants and surgeries and weeks of speech therapy.

“I shouldn’t,” he repeated, and pressed your hand to his cheek.

“Neither should I.”

Not after all he’d done.

You’d hated him. You’d feared him. You thought about him every single day. You’d imagined different scenarios, from fighting him to falling at his feet to staking his heart.

He placed his other hand on your hip.

“No, you shouldn’t.”

You’d downplayed your feelings before Snoke had taken you. You’d told yourself you were satisfied with Kylo visiting a few nights every week. You had your freedom and privacy, a decent job and apartment, and a vampire lover. What more could you need?

Kylo lived in a different world, one he didn’t allow you to play tourist in. He’d said he wanted you to live a normal life. He wanted you happy and safe. At your insistence you were safe — and perfectly happy! — he exploded from the sofa where you two had been lounging. He’d flipped the coffee table and yelled you couldn’t possibly be either.

You’d ordered him out, telling him to leave and not come back until he wanted to behave. You hadn’t wanted to look at him right then. He’d rounded on you with a snarl, fangs flashing.

Then he’d been on you, kissing you, devouring you, tasting every inch of your body. He held you down and fucked you: on your knees, on your back, on the sofa, on the floor, on the upended coffee table, on your bed. You’d climaxed over and over again. He hadn’t stopped until dawn forced him to ground. You’d called in sick to work and sat in an epsom-salt bath for nearly an hour.

“I can’t leave this existence,” he now said. “I can’t leave you, either.”

“Then don’t.”

He shuffled you to the wall, his touch gentle. He always returned loving and tender, with sweet words and sweeter caresses.

“I’ll never let you go. I can’t.”

He grazed his fingertips across the clotting wound at your neck. You closed your eyes with a sigh. It should’ve stung, yet all you felt was him. He repositioned your hand from his cheek to his muscled shoulder. You slid your palm under the weight of his hair to hold his nape.

“Then don’t.”

You stared into his eyes, watching as red bloomed across his irises. It didn’t startle you any longer. The white of his delicate-tipped fangs gleamed. You drew him towards the wound and tilted your head back.

He made a desperate, hungry sound and wrapped you in his arms, supporting your head. You relaxed into his hold. Your breath shallowed.

This was the end. The end of running, of being scared, of the war you never wanted in the first place.

A faint star glimmered overhead — the lone witness to the ceasefire.

Kylo struck. He bit deeper than he ever had before. You gasped and clung to him as he drank the first mouthful. Your blood gushed with every beat of your heart.

Your feet left the ground. The night spun in a cacophony of dingy brick, velvet sky, and sodium lights. It spun and spun into a soft blur where nothing touched you and you touched nothing. Not even Kylo.

Liquid metal poured into your mouth, raging and carnal and animalistic. You swallowed. It was like swallowing a hot sea, like drowning. There was so much, too much. Energy filled you and flowed through you until you crashed against Kylo.

You opened your eyes and saw him as though it was the first time. You cradled his stunning face in your hands, his skin so new and electric. His eyes held all the warmth in the universe — its heat death quite improbable while he existed.

“I’m never letting you go,” you said, and kissed him.

[caffedrine]

Chevalier Michel - I fell in love with you that day – Choose your true love - Event Summary

This is mostly a summary for me - I make no promises on the accuracy of what’s happening. I’m not nearly fluent enough to get half the jokes/innuendo much less accurate plot points.

When Emma wakes up, she is in a pitch-black forest, which is weird since the last thing she remembers is waiting for Chevalier in his library.

There’s a unique smell to the forest, iron and something burning. As far as dreams go, this one is very vivid, and Emma trembles as the smell triggers memories of the last time she participated in a war. Thankfully, she cant hear any sounds of fighting around her, so she’s safe for now.

Her heart pounding, Emma forces her legs to carry her forward, until she enters a clearing with a large lake reflecting the moonlight. And on the edge of the lake, wearing a dark cloak is a familiar figure.

Emma calls out to Chevalier as she hurries towards him, the smell of blood and battle growing stronger as she nears him. She can see that Chevalier’s clothes are covered in something red, and he kneels down to scoop up water to wash himself.

Drawing close to him, Emma asks what happened and reaches out to touch him.

Chevalier recoils from her, unsheathing his sword and resting the tip just at her throat. He demands to know who she is. Very carefully, Emma tells him her name.

(Actually, this is just how he says 'hello')

Not helpful. Chevalier does not recognize the name nor the person.

Is this really Chevalier in front of her? His eyes are so cold that Emma can feel her blood freeze, and the traces of warmth she is used to is gone. She remembers back when she first met Chevalier, the ruthless bestial gaze, but this might be even worse. She can feel the hostility radiate from him, and it’s intense enough that she can’t breathe.

Chevalier tells her to run away, unless she wants to be killed. The tip of his sword is just touching the skin at her neck. The murderous intent half-convinces Emma that if she moves at all, he will chop of her head.

Emma mentally calms herself down, taking one deep breath after another. She needs to figure out what is going on.

Feeling better, Emma looks into Chevalier’s murderous gaze and asks him what is going on. She explains that she was reading back at the castle and suddenly she was here. It looks like he’s covered in blood, and it looks like a war is going on, so she’s understandably confused.

Chevalier doesn’t answer her.

But the hositilty has decreased, so he lowers his sword.

Chevalier sheathes his sword, turns, and walks away. Unlike usual, there is no ‘come with me’ look, but Emma decides to follow him. She doesn’t want to be alone in this place, even if it means being with a Chevalier who does not know her.

Upon returning to the forest, two people intercept Chevalier. His younger brother, Clavis, and the traitor knight, Sir Flandres. It’s the later that puts things into place for Emma, Flandres was a knight of the foreign policy faction 10 years ago

Both Clavis and Flandres were too agitated to even notice her and focused on Chevalier. Flandres begs Chevalier to reconsider, his family is among the 1,000 hostages captured by Obsidian. He asks if Chevalier really intends to abandon all those he has sworn to protect? If they mobilize the knights, then maybe they can save them.

Chevalier refuses to change his decision, even though Clavis argues that they could still win. Chevalier reminds them that Obsidian has firearms, and if they walk into the obvious trap, the 1,000 citizens will die along with the knights. Flandres asks if they could do a more covert operation to save them, but Chevalier refuses to waste the military power on this.

Clavis reminds him that he is consigning 1,000 people to death. Chevalier reminds Clavis that they are at war, people are going to die, but if they don’t win, then the entire country will be wiped off the map. He is getting tired of saying the exact same thing over and over again. Chevalier pushes past the two, as they stare at his speechless.

Somehow Emma was transported to 10 years in the past, when Rhodolite was invaded by Obsidian and all 7 princes went to the battlefield.

She is at the day when Chevalier let 1,000 hostages die, the Blood-Stained Rose Day.

Emma has no explanation of why she is here and how she went back in time, but this is too real to be just a dream.

She sits near Chevalier in the command tent as soldiers bring in reports. And each report is dire – with them losing land and Chevalier making decisions to abandon one battle and send more troops to another.

One of the scouts reports the Supreme Commander of the Obsidian Army was briefly spotted, and Chevalier asks if they have spotted Ever-Victorious Marshal. Nope, Gilbert is suspiciously absent. Chevalier muses that if they manage to kill the emperor, the fighting will be over. A soldier points out that the Supreme Commander, the Emperor of Obsidian, is the best fighter on the continent, no one can kill him.

Chevalier tells them to send for him the moment they pinpoint the Emperor’s position, he will fight him himself. He warns them not to engage the Emperor.

As the soldier leaves to spread Chevalier’s orders regarding the Emperor, another scout comes with more reports.

So far, with everyone focused on Chevalier, no one has noticed her. Or maybe they have, they just have other things to worry about. Instead, Emma is left by herself to listen to Chevalier give out order after order, and she is quickly overwhelmed by the cruelty of the war. As the night breaks into day, Emma feels a little safer, but it is impossible to relax.

Lucian, a face Emma can recognize, comes forward with an urgent report. Chevalier doesn’t even need to hear it to know, his stupid brother went and did it, right? Lucian asks if Chevalier was expecting it, and Chevalier admits that he wishes he wasn’t.

The other side now has Clavis and is demanding hostage negotiations. How would Chevalier like to handle this?

Chevalier tells Lucian to ignore the demand, if his stupid brother got himself into this situation, he can get himself out. Chevalier has made it clear that he does not intend to negotiate.

Even Emma is chilled by his disregard, and she has the advantage of knowing exactly how it will turn out.

One of the nearby soldiers objects and asks if Chevalier is sure. Chevalier reminds him that Clavis entered the enemy camp on his own, and he asks how many people should he sacrifice to rescue Clavis? The soldier backs down, and Chevalier tells the soldier not to think about unnecessary things and focus on their roles.

Emma muses that even though Clavis is his brother, Chevalier has no doubt in his decision to abandon him. She understands that if Chevalier makes the wrong choice, Rhodolite will be overrun by Obsidian troops and lose the war. He accepts the responsibility of making the ultimate judgments on the battlefield, right or wrong.

As Emma thinks about what Chevalier and the others are going through, Lucien abruptly looks at Emma and asks who she is.

Chevalier shrugs, he has no idea either. She just started following him and didn’t run away.

Eventually, the reports stop, and Chevalier calls for Lucien. He’s going to go for a walk. Lucien asks if he should come with him, but Chevalier tells him not to. Lucien then tells Chevalier to be careful.

Emma decides to join Chevalier, she doesn’t want to stay behind without him.

Chevalier makes a beeline into the forest, and judging from the way he’s moving, he seems to have a destination in mind. This isn’t the casual break she was expecting. As she frantically follows him, Chevalier abruptly stops. He warns her that if she continues to follow him, he won’t guarantee she’ll live. Emma assures him that she’s not worried, and unless he really can’t have her with him, she would still like to accompany him. She wants to know what happened during the Blood-Stained Rose Day. Chevalier is visibly confused, and Emma realizes that this war doesn’t even have a name yet. Chevalier calls her strange, snorts, and continues forward.

Under the cover of darkness, Chevalier hides in the shadows. There are multiple tents pitched nearby, all bearing the Obsidian Crest.

Emma is shocked at how easily Chevalier is approaching enemy territory, but he seems to be handling the situation. Looking at the tents, Emma is surprised at how few soldiers she can see.

Just as Emma begins to second guess herself, Chevalier unsheathes his sword and boldly walks into the enemy camp. The soldiers all shout in alarm and recognize Chevalier as the enemy commander. The soldiers at the front aim their firearms at Chevalier, but he is too fast and swings his sword before they can fire. For the first time in a while, Emma sees people die in front of her. Only a few soldiers have firearms, and the rest attack with melee weapons, but are struck down in turn.

Emma is shaking from the sight, but with no signs of reinforcements coming, she steels her legs and watches Chevalier. Finished with the soldiers, Chevalier enters the largest tent in the camp, only to quickly emerge, dragging a man with him by the hair.

The man is wearing a commander’s uniform, and he is shouting at Chevalier to release him and threatening him. Chevalier ignores him, throws him to the ground, and stabs the man through the shoulder with his sword. The man threatens that if Chevalier won’t stop, he won’t rescind the order to burn alive all those prisoners of war. Chevalier stabs him through his other shoulder, pointing out that the execution is already happening right this moment. He notes that since this commander and his subordinates are here, that means they didn’t have the stomach to see their execution orders carried through.

Thanks to that cowardice, it made it easier for Chevalier to find and dispose of them.

Chevalier stabs the commander in the shoulder again, and then in the legs, and the commander screams. This is the first time that Emma ever saw Chevalier purposefully torture someone. He’s angry, very angry.

Chevalier explains that he has just sacrificed 1,000 people to kill him, one of the army commanders. But what is the point in just killing him?

Chevalier throws the commander into a nearby tent, grabs a torch, and sets the tent on fire. The commander starts screaming, and Emma realizes that some of the wounds Chevalier inflicted on him made him unable to use his legs.

Emma realizes that Chevalier always knew what would happen when he allowed those hostages to die, and used their sacrifice to kill one of the enemy generals. With the gift of hindsight, Emma knows that this was instrumental to him saving Rhodolite.

Chevalier, framed by the blazing tent fire, looked calm, but Emma knew that his insides were boiling with rage. She can feel the palpable anger at the loss of all those people and knows that this decision will nearly bring about a civil war in the future. Everyone said Chevalier was a merciless beast that left those people to die, but the truth is that Chevalier didn’t want them to die in the first place. He had just decided to shoulder the burden of all those deaths in exchange for a future for Rhodolite.

Eventually the sound of the commander’s screams stops, and Chevalier sheathes his sword, checking the flames. Satisfied, he turns to leave, passing by Emma who is still hiding in the shadows. She struggles to chase after him.

Chevalier abruptly stops and asks how long she intends to follow him. Emma assures him that she won’t bother him, and to please allow her to stay near.

For the first time, Chevalier turns to face her. He is caked with dirt, sweat, and blood, but somehow remains noble and pure. He notes that there are few women who can see all of this and remain normal. But Emma has barely started crying. She’s not a soldier, but she seems used to the battlefield.

No, that’s not right.

Emma is used to Chevalier.

Who is she?

Chevalier roughly grabs her and her wedding ring shines faintly in the moonlight. Chevalier has figured out that Emma is in love with him, but why?

With Chevalier looking down at her, stinking of blood instead of roses, Emma looks into his eyes and asks how he knew.

Chevalier can tell from her courage, as well as her attitude. Besides, she seems to already know the outcome of the war. This is insane and impossible, but she doesn’t seem from this time.

Even ten years ago, Chevalier was able to deduct accurate conclusions from a small amount of information. Leaving him only with the question of why she loves him.

Emma looks into the eyes of this blood-soaked beast, and though her hand is trembling, she refuses to look away. She wouldn’t be the person she is if she could look away from Chevalier like this.

She admits that there are many reasons why she loves him, but the most important is that he is capable of more love than anyone else.

Chevalier asks if she’s serious.

Emma tells him that she knows he will shoulder the burden of those 1,000 people lost, as well as everyone else who sacrificed themselves in this war. No matter who hate him, he will do what it takes to save as many people as possible. She loves his strong will and sense of responsibility, and the fact that he is human.

Like anyone else, Chevalier feels sadness and anger, proving that he’s not some beast but a human. No matter what, Emma wants to stand next to and support him.

The wind blows, stinking of ash and blood. Emma still feels numb from the scene she’s just seen, but she pushes forward. Chevalier isn’t cruel and heartless, it is this war that makes him seem so. She wants to do everything possible to stop another tragedy like this from repeating.

Emma is still inexperienced and knows too little things, but it is important that she was able to see the Blood-Stained Rose Day up close like this.

She tells Chevalier that she is his fiancé, and she will never let him turn himself into a beast.

After a long moment of silence, Chevalier releases her hand. He knows nothing about her, but if she thinks all that is true, he is interested to see how far she goes.

Chevalier snorts turns, and walks away.

Emma thinks that she’s been chasing his back for a long time now. Now, in the future, she will always chase after him.

When Emma wakes up in the present, the dream lingers and she tells Chevalier about it. He pauses his work, considering it. It is a very strange dream.

Chevalier never told anyone about attacking the commander, and there are no records about it that anyone could have read. He also has no memory of anyone following him to the enemy camp.

Chevalier muses that if it was more than a dream, or just a dream, either way it doesn’t sound pleasant for her. Emma agrees, but she thinks it worthwhile to have occurred.

Awkwardly, Chevalier reaches out and caresses her cheek. Emma thinks he looks a little paler than usual. She feels the warmth of his hand, the warmth of a human. This same hand has been stained with blood so often that Chevalier fears he might be a beast. Even she, who knows him the best, cannot always suppress her fear.

Even though his hand is so gentle with her.

Ten years ago, after their commander was slain, the Obsidian troops lost their morale and withdrew from the villages they had occupied, and the war had been won by Rhodolite. The Emperor had never before been defeated in battle, and the withdraw was unexpectedly thorough.

Rhodolite had lost a lot to this war, but the fact that a small country was able to drive off Obsidian was significant on the global scale. Until that battle, Rhodolite was considered a weak small country, ignored on the global political scale. But, thanks to that victory, Rhodolite is heralded as a beacon of hope to all countries threatened by Obsidian.

Thanks to the sacrifice of all those who died on the battlefield.

Emma agrees that they are where they are today only because of everyone working so hard to protect the country. But the war shouldn’t have happened to begin with. No matter what they say about Rhodolite becoming prominent in victory, Emma cannot bring herself to glorify war.

Chevalier agrees with her sentiment.

Emma doesn’t want to lament her helplessness to stop anything, and she wants to work with Chevalier to build a world where no one needs to become a beast to win a war. She doesn’t want blood to get on Chevalier’s hands ever again.

Chevalier is interested to see how far she will go.

Emma remarks that dream-Chevalier said the same thing to her in the end. Chevalier muses that he must not have changed from who he was back then.

Chevalier pulls Emma’s hand close to him and kisses her fingertips, as if he was swearing a sacred oath. He has no intention of staining her hands with blood either.

Chevalier is someone who will wage a war if he thinks it is necessary. Currently, he’s thinking positively and continues to be a human. As long as the love between them exists, Emma is sure Chevalier will retain his humanity.

She looks at him, at his smile, and thinks about how warm it is.

[jundundun]

SONDER : SEUNGCHEOL

description : seuncheol is the head knight of the kingdom of nephele. what happens when seungcheol begins to fall for the princess and resident sweetheart, Y/N.

warnings : smut (but it’s marked with special borders in case you want to skip it), angst (fluff at the end & embedded throughout), slow burn, mentions of violence

pairing : knight!seungcheol x fem!reader

word count : 14.3k

see the whole series description here !

The sun had just risen over the Kingdom of Nephele, casting a golden glow across the sprawling fields and lush forests. The air was crisp and clean, and the sweet scent of dewy grass mixed with the fragrant aroma of blooming wildflowers. It was a peaceful morning, but the kingdom was far from at peace.

Seungcheol, the head knight of Nephele, stood atop the castle walls, surveying the landscape before him. He was a man of few words, but his piercing gaze and chiselled features spoke volumes. His armour shone in the morning light, and his sword hung at his side, a constant reminder of his duty to protect the kingdom.

As he looked out over the horizon, Seungcheol could see the distant hills and mountains that marked the border between Nephele and the neighbouring kingdom of Roseate. Ever since the newly empowered prince, Minghao, had taken the throne due to his father's looming illness, tensions had been running high between the two lands. Minghao's strict rules and harsh governance had sparked protests and uprisings, and many feared that war was on the horizon.

Seungcheol was resolute in his duty to protect Nephele, but he knew that the situation was growing increasingly volatile. He turned to the guards stationed at the castle gates and spoke in a low, authoritative voice.

"Make sure the gates are secure, and keep a close watch on the horizon. We cannot afford to let our guard down, not with the threat of Roseate looming so close."

The guards nodded, and Seungcheol continued his patrol along the castle walls. As he made his way to the courtyard, he saw Princess Y/N sitting on a bench, gazing wistfully out at the gardens. Her beauty was breathtaking, her hair a cascade of dark waves that framed her delicate features. She wore a gown of soft lavender, the colour complementing the warmth of her skin.

"Good morning, Princess," Seungcheol said, bowing respectfully, staring discretely from the corner of his eye at the way the corners of her mouth turned as she acknowledged him.

Y/N smiled softly and returned the gesture, lifting her hand over her eyes to make the glare of the sun less evident as she looked up at the head knight. "Good morning, Seungcheol. It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"

Seungcheol nodded, but his expression remained guarded as his posture stiffened. "Indeed, but we must remain vigilant. The situation with Roseate is growing increasingly dangerous."

Y/N's expression grew solemn, and she looked out at the horizon with a sense of foreboding. "I know, Seungcheol. I worry for our kingdom and our people. But what can we do? We cannot fight a war, not without risking countless lives."

Seungcheol placed a comforting hand on Y/N's shoulder, hesitating as he did so, knowing his actions meant more than what first came to eye. "We will do what we can to protect our people and our land. That is our duty as knights and as citizens of Nephele."

Y/N looked up at Seungcheol, and their eyes met in a moment of silent understanding. She knew that he was a man of his word and that he would do whatever it took to keep their kingdom safe. But as their gazes lingered, Y/N felt a spark of something more, a feeling that she couldn't quite put into words. Had Seuncheol always looked like that?

She quickly looked away, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she shuffled around on the bench, trying to look natural as she blushed. "Thank you, Seungcheol. I know you will do your best."

Seungcheol nodded, his own heart racing with a sense of longing, though towards what, he was unsure. As he turned to resume his patrol, he couldn't help but steal one last glance at Y/N, wondering if she felt the same way he did.

—

As the day wore on, in the castle chambers, Princess Y/N sat at her desk, poring over maps and documents. She was determined to find a solution to the tensions between Nephele and Roseate, but the more she researched, the more hopeless it seemed.

Her older brother, Prince Jeonghan, entered the room with a sly smile on his face. "What's this, little sister? Trying to solve the world's problems on your own?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, but couldn't help but smile at her brother's teasing. Jeonghan was always quick with a joke or a quip, but she knew that deep down, he cared for her deeply.

"I'm just trying to help, Jeonghan," Y/N replied, gesturing towards the papers on her desk as an exasperated sigh left her mouth. "I don't want to see our kingdom suffer because of the actions of another."

Jeonghan's expression grew serious, and he walked over to Y/N's side. "I understand your concern, Y/N. But we must be realistic. We cannot risk going to war with Roseate, not when our own people are still suffering from the aftermath of the last conflict."

Y/N sighed, knowing that her brother was right. But she couldn't help but feel frustrated and powerless in the face of the growing tensions.

—

As the day drew to a close, Seungcheol found himself once again patrolling the castle walls. The sun had set, and the stars twinkled overhead like tiny diamonds in the sky.

He heard a rustling in the bushes below, and his hand instinctively went to his sword. But as he peered over the wall, he saw a lithe figure sneaking towards the castle gates.

"Who goes there?" Seungcheol called out, his voice echoing through the still night air, his authority prevalent through the low tone of his voice.

The figure froze, then turned to face him, albeit with a bit of hesitance. It was Princess Y/N, dressed in a cloak and hood, a bundle of papers clutched in her hands. A guilty look flashed across her face before she masked it with a stronger appearance.

"Princess Y/N?" Seungcheol asked, surprised, struggling to find the words to express his disbelief at the discovery in front of him. "What are you doing out here?"

Y/N looked up at Seungcheol, her eyes flashing with determination and desperation. "I have to do something, Seungcheol. I can't just sit by and watch as our kingdom falls apart. I have a plan, but I need your help."

Seungcheol felt a surge of admiration for the princess, and couldn't deny the thrill of excitement at the thought of working with her. His heartbeat wavered as she processed her speech, Princess y/n, the vision of beauty and grace, needed him, him. But he knew that the risks were great and that they had to be careful.

"Tell me your plan, Princess," Seungcheol said, his voice low and steady. "But be warned, we must tread carefully. The slightest misstep could mean disaster for us all."

Princess Y/N nodded, understanding the gravity of their situation. "I know, Seungcheol. But I truly believe that this is the only way to avoid war and protect our kingdom."

She handed him the bundle of papers, which he quickly scanned over, trying to ignore y/ns hopeful eyes looking directly up at him. It was a proposal for a treaty between Nephele and Roseate, outlining terms that would benefit both kingdoms and ease the tensions between them.

Seungcheol was impressed by the thoroughness and thoughtfulness of the plan, but he couldn't help but feel a twinge of worry in his gut. "This is a risky proposition, Princess. Minghao may not be willing to negotiate, and if he finds out about our plan��"

"I know the risks, Seungcheol," Y/N interrupted, her eyes unwavering. "But I refuse to sit by and do nothing. Will you help me?"

Seungcheol hesitated for a moment, but then he looked up and met her gaze. "I will, Princess. But we must keep this plan between us for now. We cannot risk any leaks."

Y/N nodded, relieved that she had found an ally in Seungcheol. "Thank you, Seungcheol. I knew I could count on you."

As they made their way back to the castle, the tension between them was palpable. Seungcheol couldn't help but steal glances at Y/N, admiring the way the moonlight illuminated her face and the determination in her eyes.

But he knew that any romantic feelings he had for her were futile. Their positions made any kind of relationship impossible, and he couldn't let his personal feelings interfere with the task at hand.

As they reached the castle gates, Seungcheol turned to Y/N. "I will help you with your plan, Princess. But we must be careful. We cannot let anyone find out about this."

Y/N nodded, a determined look on her face. "I understand, Seungcheol. We will be careful."

And with that, they parted ways, both with a newfound sense of purpose and determination to save their kingdom from the brink of war.

—

Seungcheol couldn't shake the feeling of unease as he made his way back to his quarters. The proposal for a treaty was a promising idea, but the risks were too high. If they were caught, they would be accused of treason and the consequences would be dire.

He knew that the head knight of Roseate, Seokmin, was fiercely loyal to Minghao and would do anything to protect him. The thought of facing him in battle made Seungcheol's heart race with anxiety. But he had made a promise to Y/N, and he intended to keep it.

As he entered his quarters, he was greeted by his second-in-command, San, who was waiting for him.

"Sir, there's something you need to see," San said, his voice urgent.

Seungcheol furrowed his brows in confusion as San handed him a parchment. It was a letter from the head knight of Roseate, Seokmin, demanding a meeting with Seungcheol to discuss the recent tensions between their kingdoms.

Seungcheol's heart sank. He knew that this was a trap, but he couldn't refuse the meeting without raising suspicion.

"Prepare the horses," Seungcheol said, his voice steady. "We leave at dawn."

As San left to make the preparations, Seungcheol sat down at his desk and took a deep breath. He had to think of a plan, and fast. He couldn't let his guard down for a moment, not with the safety of his kingdom on the line.

But as he looked at the letter in his hands, he couldn't help but think of Y/N. He knew that if he was caught, she would be implicated too. He couldn't bear the thought of her being punished for trying to save their kingdom.

Seungcheol shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He had to focus on the task at hand. The meeting with Seokmin would be the first step in a dangerous game, and he had to be prepared for anything.

As he retired for the night, Seungcheol couldn't help but think of Y/N's determined gaze, and he knew that he would do whatever it took to protect her and their kingdom.

—

The next morning, Seungcheol and his men set out on horseback towards the border of Roseate. The tension in the air was palpable as they rode in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

As they approached the border, Seungcheol spotted a group of Roseate soldiers waiting for them. Among them was Seokmin, the head knight of Roseate, his expression unreadable.

"Welcome, Head Knight Seungcheol," Seokmin said, his voice formal.

Seungcheol dismounted from his horse and approached Seokmin, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He could feel the eyes of his men on him, and he knew that any misstep could mean their downfall.

"We come in peace," Seungcheol said, his voice calm but firm. "We are here to discuss the recent tensions between our kingdoms."

Seokmin nodded, his eyes flickering to Seungcheol's hand on his sword. "Of course. Please, follow me."

Seungcheol and his men followed Seokmin across the border and towards the Roseate castle. Seungcheol couldn't help but feel uneasy as they entered the castle gates. He knew that they were walking into a trap, but he had no choice but to trust in his abilities as a knight.

As they entered the castle, Seungcheol was struck by the opulence of the decor. The walls were lined with tapestries depicting scenes of battle and conquest, and the floors were made of polished marble. It was a stark contrast to the more modest surroundings of the Nephele castle. Seokmin led them to a large chamber, where Minghao was waiting for them. Seungcheol's heart raced as he saw the prince, his eyes cold and calculating.

"Greetings, Head Knight Seungcheol," Minghao said, his voice laced with malice. "I trust your journey was uneventful."

Seungcheol bowed his head respectfully. "It was, Your Highness. We are here to discuss a treaty between our kingdoms."

Minghao sneered, his posture stiffening as his fists clenched. "A treaty? I have no interest in making peace with your kingdom. You are nothing but traitors and rebels."

Seungcheol gritted his teeth, his hand twitching towards his sword. He knew that he had to keep his composure, but the insults stung.

"We come in good faith, Your Highness," Seungcheol said, his voice steady. "Surely there must be a way to resolve our differences without bloodshed."

Minghao's expression softened slightly, but his eyes remained cold. "Very well. I will hear you out. But make no mistake, Head Knight Seungcheol. If I find any evidence of treachery, I will not hesitate to execute you and your men."

Seungcheol nodded, his heart heavy with the weight of their perilous situation. He knew that they were walking a tightrope, and one misstep could mean the end of everything. But he also knew that he had to keep fighting, no matter the odds. For the sake of his kingdom, and for the sake of Y/N.

—

Seungcheol took a deep breath and began to lay out his proposal for a treaty between Nephele and Roseate. He spoke eloquently, carefully choosing his words to avoid any offence to Minghao's pride.

As he spoke, he could feel the tension in the room slowly dissipating. Minghao listened intently, his eyes narrowing in thought.

When Seungcheol finished, Minghao leaned back in his chair, a frown on his face. "Your proposal is… interesting, Head Knight Seungcheol. But I cannot make any decisions without consulting my advisors first."

Seungcheol nodded. "Of course, Your Highness. We understand that this is a delicate matter."

Minghao stood up, signalling the end of the meeting. "You and your men are welcome to stay in our castle for the night. We will discuss this further tomorrow."

Seungcheol bowed respectfully. "Thank you, Your Highness. We appreciate your hospitality."

As they were led to their quarters, Seungcheol couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. Minghao's sudden change of heart was unexpected, and Seungcheol knew that he had to remain vigilant.

He turned to his men, his expression serious. "We cannot let our guard down. Keep your weapons close, and be prepared for anything."

The night passed uneventfully, but Seungcheol slept with one eye open, his hand resting on his sword. He knew that they were in enemy territory, and he couldn't afford to let his guard down.

The next morning, Seungcheol and his men were summoned to the throne room once again. Minghao sat on his throne, flanked by his advisors.

"I have consulted with my advisors," Minghao said, his voice cold. "And we have decided that we cannot agree to your proposal, Head Knight Seungcheol. Our kingdoms are too different, and our interests are too divergent."

Seungcheol felt a sense of disappointment wash over him, but he kept his expression neutral. "I understand, Your Highness. We will take our leave and return to Nephele."

Minghao nodded. "Good. You are free to go. But remember, Head Knight Seungcheol. Any further attempts to cross our borders will be met with force."

Seungcheol bowed respectfully, then turned and left the throne room with his men. As they rode back to Nephele, Seungcheol couldn't help but feel a sense of defeat. But he also knew that he couldn't give up. He would find a way to save his kingdom, no matter the cost.

As the days passed, Seungcheol and his men returned to their routine duties of protecting the kingdom of Nephele. Seungcheol kept himself busy, throwing himself into his work and trying to forget the disappointment of the failed treaty with Roseate. But he couldn't help but feel a sense of restlessness, a nagging feeling that there was something he was missing.

—

Meanwhile, Princess Y/N spent most of her days confined to the castle walls, longing for adventure and excitement. She often watched the knights as they trained, admiring their skill and bravery. She had always been fascinated by Seungcheol, the Head Knight of Nephele. He was chivalrous and focused, always putting the needs of the kingdom before his own. But she also knew that he was off-limits, as a knight was not allowed to fraternize with royalty.

Even though Seungcheol and Y/N had known each other for years, they remained oblivious to the growing attraction between them. Seungcheol respected Y/N as a princess, and Y/N admired Seungcheol from afar, too afraid to act on her feelings.

—

One day, as Seungcheol was walking through the castle courtyard, he heard a sound that made his heart skip a beat. It was the sound of Y/N's laughter, tinkling like bells in the air. He turned to see her sitting on a bench, surrounded by a group of young girls. She was smiling and laughing, her eyes sparkling with joy.

Seungcheol couldn't help but be drawn to her. He walked over to her, his heart beating faster with each step. "Princess Y/N," he said, bowing respectfully. "Is everything alright?"

Y/N looked up at him, her smile fading slightly. "Oh, Head Knight Seungcheol. Yes, everything is fine. I was just enjoying the company of these girls here." Y/N spoke, lightly pinching one of the girl's cheeks as she broke eye contact with Seungcheol.

Seungcheol nodded, then hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Princess, I was wondering… would you care to take a walk with me? The gardens are beautiful this time of year."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly composed herself. "Of course, Head Knight. I would be honoured."

Seungcheol and Y/N walked through the lush gardens, the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers wafting in the air. The trees swayed gently in the breeze, casting dappled shadows on the path.

"So, how have you been, Princess?" Seungcheol asked, trying to break the comfortable silence that had fallen between them. "I have been well, Head Knight. Thank you for asking," Y/N replied, smiling at him.

"I noticed that you seem to enjoy spending time with the young girls of the court," Seungcheol remarked.

Y/N nodded. "Yes, they are such a joy to be around. It is refreshing to be around their innocence and exuberance."

Seungcheol smiled. "I can see why. Their energy is infectious." They walked in silence for a few more moments, enjoying the peacefulness of the gardens. Seungcheol couldn't help but notice how beautiful Y/N looked in the soft glow of the setting sun.

"Princess, I must apologize for the failed treaty with Roseate," Seungcheol said, breaking the silence once again. "I know how important it was to you and your family."

Y/N sighed. "It is not your fault, Head Knight. Minghao is a stubborn and prideful prince. He would not listen to reason."

Seungcheol nodded in agreement. "I will do everything in my power to protect Nephele, Princess. You have my word."

Y/N smiled at him. "Thank you, Head Knight. I have always admired your dedication to our kingdom."

Seungcheol's heart skipped a beat at her words. He had always admired Y/N for her kindness and intelligence, but he never thought that she would admire him in return.

"I hope you don't mind me asking, Princess, but what do you enjoy doing in your free time?" Seungcheol asked, trying to start a conversation.

Y/N smiled. "Not at all, Head Knight. I enjoy reading and spending time with my family and friends. What about you?"

Seungcheol thought for a moment. "I like to train, of course, but in my free time, I enjoy playing chess and writing poetry."

"Poetry?" Y/N raised an eyebrow. "I didn't expect that from the Head Knight of Nephele."

Seungcheol chuckled. "Yes, well, I find it a good way to unwind after a long day."

Y/N nodded, impressed. "That's very interesting. I would love to read some of your work someday."

Seungcheol smiled. "I would be honoured to share it with you, Princess." As they continued walking, the conversation turned more personal.

"Can I ask you something, Head Knight?" Y/N asked, her voice soft.

"Of course, Princess," Seungcheol replied, his tone respectful.

"What are your hopes and dreams for the future?" Y/N asked, her eyes searching his.

Seungcheol's expression softened. "I hope to see Nephele prosper and flourish, to see our people happy and safe. As for my personal dreams, I…I hope to find someone to share my life with. Someone who understands me and supports me, through thick and thin."

Y/N looked at him, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn't believe how much she was starting to feel for the Head Knight of Nephele.

"And what about you, Princess?" Seungcheol asked, turning the question back on her.

Y/N blushed. "Well, I…I dream of exploring the world, seeing new places and meeting new people. But mostly, I dream of finding true love. Someone who sees me for who I am, and loves me just the same."

Seungcheol's heart skipped a beat at her words. He couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, he could be that person for her.

But he knew that he had to be careful. As the Head Knight of Nephele, he had a duty to protect the kingdom and its people. He couldn't let his feelings for the Princess distract him from his responsibilities.

As they reached the end of the garden path, Seungcheol turned to face Y/N. "Thank you for taking the time to talk with me, Princess. It was a pleasant distraction from the usual duties of the day."

Y/N smiled. "The pleasure was mine, Head Knight. I enjoyed getting to know you better."

As they parted ways, Seungcheol couldn't shake the feeling that there was something between them. Something that he couldn't quite put his finger on. He tried to push the thought from his mind, reminding himself of his duty to Nephele.

But Y/N couldn't stop thinking about their conversation. There was something about Seungcheol that drew her in. His strength, his courage, and his dedication to the kingdom were all admirable traits. But there was something else, something that she couldn't quite explain. She found herself wanting to spend more time with him, to learn more about him.

—

As days passed, Y/N and Seungcheol found themselves having more small encounters. Sometimes it was a passing smile in the hallway, other times it was a brief conversation over a shared meal. Each time they spoke, Y/N felt herself drawn to Seungcheol more and more, despite her attempts to keep her feelings hidden.

One afternoon, Y/N was sitting in the garden, reading a book when she heard footsteps approaching. Looking up, she saw Seungcheol walking towards her, a small smile on his face.

"May I join you, Princess?" Seungcheol asked, gesturing to the empty bench beside her.

Y/N nodded, feeling her heart race as Seungcheol sat down beside her. They sat in silence for a few moments, Y/N feeling nervous and unsure of what to say.

"Is that a book of poetry?" Seungcheol asked, gesturing to the book in her lap.

Y/N nodded, trying to hide the fact that she'd been caught trying to educate herself on one of Seungcheol's hobbies. "Yes, it's a collection by a local poet. I find their work very beautiful and inspiring."

Seungcheol smiled. "I couldn't agree more. Poetry has a way of capturing the essence of life in a way that nothing else can."

As they sat there, feeling serene amongst the floral atmosphere Y/N asked Seungcheol about his childhood. At first, Seungcheol hesitated, unsure if he should reveal too much of his past. But something in Y/N's gentle gaze and earnest expression made him feel safe.

"I was born to a poor family in the outskirts of Nephele," Seungcheol began, his voice low and hesitant. "My parents were farmers, and we had very little. But they always taught me the importance of hard work and integrity, and I knew that I wanted to make something of myself."

Y/N listened intently, her eyes never leaving Seungcheol's face. "What made you want to become a knight?"

Seungcheol smiled. "I always admired the knights of Nephele, with their bravery and honour. When I was old enough, I applied to become a squire, and worked my way up the ranks until I became head knight."

Y/N nodded, impressed. "You must have worked very hard to get where you are now."

Seungcheol nodded, his gaze meeting hers. "I did. But it was worth it, to be able to protect my kingdom and those I care about."

Y/N smiled at him, feeling a sense of warmth and admiration for the man beside her. "You're a true hero, Seungcheol."

Seungcheol felt his heart swell at Y/N's words, and he couldn't help but feel a growing attraction to her. He wanted to tell her how he felt, but he knew any relationship between them was forbidden. Even their brief encounters would be a topic of discussion in court. It was too risky, this was too risky.

As the sun began to set, Seungcheol and Y/N walked back to the castle, their conversation turning to lighter topics. But even as they laughed and joked with each other, they couldn't help but feel the growing tension between them. They both knew that their feelings for each other were dangerous, but they couldn't deny the attraction that burned between them.

—

As they walked through the castle corridors, Y/N couldn't help but feel restless. She had spent most of her life cooped up in the castle walls, and she longed for adventure and freedom. She had always felt confined by her duties as a princess, and she yearned for a life outside of the castle. Seungcheol noticed Y/N's restlessness, and he couldn't help but ask, "Is everything alright, Y/N?"

Y/N paused, unsure if she should reveal her deepest desires to Seungcheol. But something in his warm gaze made her feel safe, and she decided to confide in him. "I feel…trapped, Seungcheol," she admitted. "I want to explore the world, to see new places and meet new people. But as a princess, my duty is to stay within the castle walls and fulfil my obligations."

Seungcheol listened intently, his expression sympathetic. "I understand how you feel, Y/N," he said. "But as a knight, my duty is to protect the kingdom and its people. Sometimes, we have to sacrifice our own desires for the greater good."

Y/N nodded, understanding the weight of Seungcheol's words. "I know," she said. "But sometimes, I just wish I could be free."

Seungcheol smiled softly, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Perhaps one day, you will be," he said. "But for now, know that I will always be here to protect you and keep you safe."

Y/N smiled at Seungcheol, feeling grateful for his words. As they continued to walk through the castle, Y/N couldn't help but feel a growing attraction to the kind and protective head knight. But she knew that their growing feelings were forbidden, and she pushed her feelings aside. For now, she would focus on her duties as a princess and trust that Seungcheol would always be by her side.

But still, no matter how hard she forced her feelings down, trapping them in the back of her mind, she couldn't help but wonder. What would life with Seuncheol be like? With no duties, no nothing. Just him, and her, together.

—

As days went by, Y/N and Seungcheol's friendship grew stronger. They would often steal small moments together, sharing their dreams and fears with each other. Seungcheol found himself drawn to Y/N's free-spirited nature and her kind heart, and Y/N was enamoured by Seungcheol's unwavering dedication to his duty and his bravery.

One afternoon, Y/N was sitting by the castle gardens, reading a book, when Seungcheol appeared before her. "May I join you, Y/N?" he asked, smiling.

Y/N smiled back, gesturing for him to sit next to her. "Of course, Seungcheol," she said, patting the spot next to her.

As they sat together, Seungcheol couldn't help but notice the way Y/N's hair danced in the gentle breeze. "Y/N, can I ask you something?" he said, breaking the peaceful silence.

Y/N turned to him, curious. "Of course," she replied.

Seungcheol hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Do you ever think about…us?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at Seungcheol's words. "What do you mean?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

Seungcheol turned to her, his expression serious. "I mean…do you ever feel…something for me?" he said, his eyes searching hers, his hands unclenching and clenching as he struggled to conceal his nerves.

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up, and she looked down at her lap. "Seungcheol, you know we can't," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Seungcheol took her hand in his, squeezing it gently, causing Y/N to look up at him. "I know, Y/N," he said. "But…I can't help how I feel. And I have to know if you feel the same way."

Y/N felt torn between her duty as a princess and her growing feelings for Seungcheol. She took a deep breath before speaking. "Seungcheol…I do feel something for you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Seungcheol's face lit up with a smile, and he leaned in, placing a soft, lingering kiss on her cheek. "I'm glad," he said. "We'll figure something out, Y/N. I promise."

But despite Seungcheol's words, he couldn't help but feel conflicted. He knew that as the head knight, his duty was to protect the kingdom, and that meant putting his own feelings aside. He couldn't risk jeopardizing Y/N's safety, or his own reputation and honour as a knight.

—

The next day, as they walked through the castle halls, Y/N noticed that Seungcheol seemed distant. "Seungcheol, is everything alright?" she asked, concern etched on her face.

Seungcheol stopped in his tracks, turning to face her. "Y/N, I need to talk to you," he said, his voice serious.

Y/N felt a knot form in her stomach, fearing the worst. "What is it, Seungcheol?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Seungcheol took a deep breath before continuing. "Y/N, I think it's best if we…if we stop seeing each other," he said, his eyes downcast.

Y/N felt her heart shatter into a million pieces at Seungcheol's words. "What? Why? Just yesterday we were happy together, what changed in such a short span of time?" she asked, tears forming in her eyes as she tripped over her own words.

Seungcheol turned to her, his expression pained as he tortured himself with the thought of parting with her. "It's for the best, Y/N," he said. "We can't let our feelings get in the way of our duty to the kingdom."

Y/N shook her head, tears streaming down her face, which she didn't attempt to wipe away, instead staring at him with her emotions raw and desperation apparent within her glassy eyes. "I can't do that, Seungcheol," she said, her voice shaking. "I can't just ignore how I feel about you."

Seungcheol took her hand in his, squeezing it tightly as he looked into her eyes as if he didn't really want to say goodbye, his hands revealing his true status. "I know, Y/N," he said. "But we have to try. For the kingdom."

Y/N nodded, feeling her heart heavy with sadness. She knew that Seungcheol was right, but that didn't make it any easier. They hugged each other tightly, trying to hold on to the small moments they shared together.

—

As the days passed, Y/N and Seungcheol tried their best to suppress their growing feelings for each other. They avoided spending time alone together, and their conversations became more formal and distant.

Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of longing every time she saw Seungcheol. She missed the way he would smile at her, the way his eyes sparkled when he talked about his dreams, and the warmth of his embrace.

Seungcheol, too, found it difficult to deny his feelings for Y/N. He missed the sound of her laughter, the way she would tilt her head when she listened to him talk, and the softness of her touch.

But they both knew that their duty to the kingdom came first. They couldn't afford to let their personal desires cloud their judgment, especially with the tension rising between Nephele and Roseate.

One evening, as Y/N was walking through the castle gardens, she heard the sound of someone playing the lute. She followed the sound until she came across Seungcheol sitting by a fountain, strumming the instrument.

"Seungcheol, you play the lute?" she asked, surprised, as she approached him with hesitance, still unsure of where their relationship lay.

Seungcheol smiled, setting the lute aside. "Yes, I've been playing since I was a child," he said.

Y/N sat down next to him, his thigh brushing hers, feeling a sense of peace as she listened to the music. "It's beautiful," she said softly, her eyes slowly trailing up from where his fingers strummed onto the instrument, and up towards his eyes.

Seungcheol looked at her, his eyes softening as he fought through the heavy fog in his mind urging him to stop. "You're beautiful," he said before he could stop himself.

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat at his words. She looked at him, seeing the conflict in his eyes. "Seungcheol, I know this is difficult," she said. "But I can't ignore how I feel about you."

Seungcheol sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Y/N, I…I feel the same way," he admitted. "But we can't act on our feelings. It's too risky." Y/N nodded, feeling a sense of disappointment wash over her. "I understand," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Seungcheol took her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "But that doesn't mean we can't be friends," he said, a small smile forming on his lips.

Y/N smiled back, feeling a sense of relief. "I'd like that," she said.

As they sat there together, listening to the sound of the lute and the gentle trickle of the fountain, Y/N and Seungcheol realized that their feelings for each other wouldn't go away easily. But for now, they would try to be content with the small moments they shared and hope that someday, they could be together without any obstacles in their way.

Seungcheol felt a strange sensation inside his chest, a feeling he couldn't quite describe. He had never felt this way before, not even with the other women he had courted in the past. He couldn't deny that he was attracted to y/n, but he couldn't act on those feelings. It was forbidden for a knight to pursue a princess.

He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself. "I think it's best if we get back to the castle now, Princess," he said, breaking the silence. Y/n nodded, not daring to meet his gaze. She was equally confused by the feelings that had arisen between them, but she knew better than to act on them. She was a princess, and he was a knight sworn to protect her and her kingdom. "Please, let me escort you back to your room, Princess."

They walked back to the castle in silence, lost in their own thoughts. When they arrived, they bid each other goodnight, and Seungcheol watched as y/n disappeared into the castle's corridors.

He couldn't stop thinking about her, about the way her eyes had sparkled in the moonlight, about the sound of her laughter. He knew he shouldn't feel this way, but he couldn't help it. He had to keep his feelings in check, for the sake of his duty and his honour.

Little did he know, y/n was struggling with the same feelings. As she lay in bed that night, she couldn't stop thinking about Seungcheol. She couldn't deny the way her heart had raced when he had touched her hand, the way she had felt safe and protected in his presence.

But she knew it was futile to pursue those feelings. She was a princess, and he was a knight. Their love was forbidden, and they could never act on it.

And so, they both lay in their separate chambers, their hearts heavy with unspoken words and unfulfilled desires. The tension between the kingdoms of Nephele and Roseate continued to rise, and the future of their love seemed bleak.

—

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. The tension between Nephele and Roseate continued to escalate, with rumours of a possible war spreading throughout the kingdom.

Seungcheol and y/n tried their best to keep their distance, to ignore the feelings that had grown between them. But it was becoming harder and harder with each passing day.

One evening, Seungcheol was on patrol duty when he heard a noise coming from the castle walls. He immediately went to investigate, and to his surprise, he found y/n climbing down the wall, her hair blowing in the wind.

"Princess, what are you doing? You know, we need to stop meeting like this," he asked, his voice filled with concern.

"I couldn't sleep," she said softly, her eyes downcast. "I needed to clear my head."

Seungcheol couldn't deny the admiration he felt for y/n. Despite the danger, she had climbed down the walls of the castle all by herself, determined to escape the confines of her room. He couldn't help but feel drawn to her spirit, her determination to be free.

"Come with me," he said, extending his hand. "I know a place where we can watch the stars without any distractions."

Y/n hesitated for a moment before taking his hand, and together they walked to a secluded garden, hidden behind the castle walls. The stars shone brightly overhead, and the gentle breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers.

They sat down on a bench, and Seungcheol couldn't help but steal glances at y/n. He admired the way she looked up at the stars, the way her eyes sparkled with wonder.

"Princess, can I ask you something?" he said, breaking the silence. "Of course," she said, turning to face him.

"Why did you climb down the walls?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I… I needed to escape," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't stand being trapped in the castle all the time. I want to be free, to explore the world outside these walls."

Seungcheol felt a pang in his heart. He knew all too well the feeling of being trapped, of not being able to pursue one's dreams.

"I understand," he said softly. "I feel the same way sometimes. But we have duties to our kingdom, to our people."

"I know," y/n said, her voice laced with sadness as her head slowly gravitated to lay on Seuncheols shoulder, seeming to have forgotten their prior agreement of friendship. "But sometimes… sometimes I wish I could just run away, to leave all of this behind."

Seungcheol's heart ached for y/n. He knew how hard it was to be trapped in one's duties, to not be able to pursue one's desires. He wanted nothing more than to hold her close, to comfort her and tell her that everything would be alright. But for now, he had to settle with running his fingers through her soft locks of hair, relishing in the feeling of closeness between the two.

He knew he couldn't go any farther than that. Their love was forbidden, and he had to keep his feelings in check, no matter how much his heart ached each time they parted and how they felt so right yet simultaneously being wrong together.

And so, they sat in silence, watching the stars above, lost in their own thoughts and desires. The tension between their kingdoms continued to rise, and their love remained forbidden.

Y/n smiled at Seungcheol's gesture, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. "Thank you, Seungcheol," she said softly, "you always know how to make me feel better."

Seungcheol chuckled, "I try my best, princess." He paused for a moment before speaking again, "I must admit, it feels nice to be able to speak to someone openly like this. I've never really had anyone to confide in before."

Y/n's expression softened, "I'm glad I can be that person for you, Seungcheol."

Their eyes met, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. The air was thick with unspoken feelings, and Y/n's heart raced in her chest.

Seungcheol cleared his throat and broke the moment, "Anyway, we should probably head back to the castle now. It's getting late."

Y/n nodded, feeling a bit disappointed that the moment had passed. They made their way back to the castle, walking side by side in comfortable silence.

As they reached the entrance, Seungcheol turned to Y/n, "I'll see you tomorrow, princess."

Y/n smiled softly, "Goodnight, Seungcheol."

As she walked away, Y/n couldn't help but think about the feelings that had been stirring inside of her since she had met Seungcheol. She knew that they were both of different stations and that any romantic feelings between them would be forbidden. Yet, she couldn't help but feel drawn to him in a way that she had never felt before.

Seungcheol, on the other hand, was feeling equally conflicted. He knew that he had a duty to protect Y/n and the kingdom of Nephele and that any romantic feelings between them would only complicate things. But, he couldn't deny the pull that he felt towards her, and the desire to be close to her.

As they both retired to their respective chambers, they couldn't help but think about each other and the unspoken feelings that hung between them.

—

The next few days passed in a blur, with Y/n and Seungcheol going about their respective duties as usual. However, there was a palpable tension between them, as if they were both acutely aware of the feelings that they were trying to suppress.

One afternoon, Seungcheol found himself on the training grounds, honing his skills with a sword. As he went through the motions, his mind kept wandering to thoughts of Y/n and the way that she had opened up to him the other day. He couldn't help but wonder if there was something more between them.

Suddenly, he was interrupted by a voice, "You seem to be deep in thought, Seungcheol."

Seungcheol turned to see Jeonghan, Y/n's older brother, standing a few feet away. Seungcheol had always found Jeonghan to be snarky and teasing, and he couldn't help but feel a bit on edge around him.

"I was just practising," Seungcheol said, sheathing his sword.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, "Is that what they're calling it these days?"

Seungcheol's jaw tensed, "What do you want, Jeonghan?"

Jeonghan smirked, "Just wanted to make sure you're keeping your hands to yourself when it comes to my sister."

Seungcheol bristled at the implication, "I assure you, my intentions towards the princess are purely honourable."

Jeonghan's smirk grew wider, "I'm sure they are. But just remember, Seungcheol, I'll be keeping a close eye on you. You know what a relationship between a knight and a princess will bring. You'll ruin her."

With that, Jeonghan turned and walked away, leaving Seungcheol feeling uneasy. He knew that Jeonghan had always been overprotective of Y/n, but something about his words felt like a warning.

—

Meanwhile, Y/n was sitting in the castle gardens, lost in thought. She had been feeling more and more suffocated by her duties as a princess, and the idea of being confined to the castle walls was starting to feel unbearable.

As she sat there, lost in thought, she was interrupted by a voice, "Princess, are you alright?"

Y/n looked up to see Seungcheol standing in front of her, concern etched on his face.

"I'm fine, Seungcheol," Y/n said, forcing a smile.

Seungcheol didn't look convinced, "Are you sure? You seem…distracted."

Y/n sighed, "I don't know, Seungcheol. I just feel so…trapped, sometimes. Like I'm not really living, you know?"

Seungcheol nodded, "I know what you mean. Sometimes it feels like our duties and responsibilities are all that define us."

Y/n looked up at him, feeling a sense of understanding between them. "Do you ever feel like…you want something more?" she asked, hesitantly.

Seungcheol's eyes met hers, and for a moment, they were both lost in thought. Finally, Seungcheol spoke, "I do. But sometimes, wanting more can be dangerous."

Y/n felt a twinge of disappointment in her chest, knowing that he was referring to their growing feelings for each other. But she also knew that he was right. Any sort of relationship between them would be forbidden and could put both of them in danger.

Seungcheol could feel his heart racing in his chest, and he knew that he was in trouble. He had never felt this way before, and he didn't know how to handle it. He was the head knight, and he had a duty to the kingdom of Nephele. He couldn't let his feelings for the princess get in the way of his duty.

But at the same time, he couldn't deny the way he felt about her. She was different from anyone he had ever met, and he found himself wanting to spend more and more time with her.

As they walked back to the castle, Seungcheol struggled to keep his emotions in check. He knew that he had to put some distance between himself and the princess, but he didn't want to hurt her in the process.

"Princess," he said, finally breaking the silence between them. "I think it would be best if we kept our distance from each other for a while."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with confusion and hurt. "What do you mean? We've been through this before Seungcheol. Separating us from each other doesn't help, it just brings more pain." she asked.

"I mean that I don't think it's appropriate for us to spend so much time together," Seungcheol replied, his voice firm but gentle. "I have a duty to the kingdom of Nephele, and I can't let my personal feelings get in the way of that."

Y/N's face fell, and Seungcheol felt a pang of guilt in his chest. He didn't want to hurt her, but he knew that he had to do what was best for the kingdom.

"I understand," she said softly. "I'll…I'll see you later then."

As Y/N stood up to leave, Seungcheol gently grabbed her wrist. "Wait," he said softly, his eyes searching hers. "I may not be able to act on my feelings for you, but I can't deny that they exist. I care about you deeply, Y/N. More than I should."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she looked into Seungcheol's eyes, seeing the raw emotion there. She swallowed hard, feeling her own emotions rise to the surface. "I care about you too, Seungcheol," she said quietly. "But I understand that duty comes first. I won't ask you to choose."

Seungcheol's grip on her wrist tightened slightly. "I wish it were that simple," he said, his voice low. "But the truth is, I don't know how long I can hold back my feelings for you."

Y/N's heart fluttered at his words, and she felt a glimmer of hope. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I mean that every time I see you, every time we talk, my feelings for you grow stronger," Seungcheol admitted, his voice full of emotion. "I can't keep denying them forever."

Y/N felt her own feelings intensify at his words, but she knew that the situation was complicated. "What can we do, then?" she asked, her voice filled with uncertainty.

Seungcheol looked away, his gaze fixed on the ground. "I don't know," he said, his voice barely audible. "But for now, we must keep our feelings hidden. It's the only way to protect ourselves and the kingdom."

Y/N nodded, understanding the weight of his words. "I will keep my feelings hidden, Seungcheol," she said softly. "But know that they exist and that I care about you deeply."

Seungcheol gave her a small, sad smile. "I know, Y/N," he said. "And I care about you too."

—

Seungcheol let out a deep sigh, his heart feeling heavy with the weight of their conversation. He knew that what he was feeling for Y/n was more than just a simple admiration or friendship, but he couldn't bear to admit it to himself.

As they approached the castle gates, Seungcheol cleared his throat and turned to Y/n. "I… I must take my leave now, Princess. Duty calls," he said, his voice betraying the turmoil in his heart.

Y/n nodded, her eyes filled with a mix of sadness and understanding. "Of course, Head Knight. I will see you soon."

Seungcheol gave her a small smile before turning to leave, his mind racing with thoughts and emotions he couldn't quite grasp. As he made his way back to the barracks, he couldn't help but replay their conversation in his mind, the words and emotions haunting him.

Days passed and Seungcheol found himself more and more drawn to Y/n, despite his best efforts to distance himself. He found excuses to be near her, to speak with her, and to bask in the warmth of her company. He was helpless to resist her charms and found himself falling deeper and deeper into a love he couldn't deny.

However, the tension between the Kingdoms of Nephele and Roseate continued to grow, and Seungcheol's duties as Head Knight demanded more of his attention. Minghao's actions only seemed to stoke the flames of conflict, and it was becoming increasingly clear that war was on the horizon.

As Seungcheol trained his knights and prepared for the worst, he couldn't help but think of Y/n and how he longed to protect her from the impending danger. He knew that their love was forbidden, but he couldn't help but hope that somehow, they could find a way to be together.

Little did he know, Y/n felt the same way. She yearned for the freedom to love whomever she wished, and Seungcheol had captured her heart in a way she never thought possible. As the kingdom braced for war, their feelings would be put to the ultimate test.

—

As the days passed, tensions between Nephele and Roseate continued to rise. Minghao's strict laws and harsh taxes were causing unrest among the people of Roseate, and rumours of rebellion began to spread.

Seungcheol and his fellow knights were constantly on high alert, ready to defend their kingdom if Roseate decided to attack. But even with their swords and shields at the ready, Seungcheol couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in his stomach.

One night, Seungcheol was patrolling the castle walls when he heard footsteps approaching. He turned to see Princess Y/N walking towards him.

"Is everything alright, Your Highness?" Seungcheol asked concern etched on his face.

"I couldn't sleep," Y/N admitted, her voice soft. "The tension between our kingdoms is weighing heavily on my mind."

Seungcheol nodded, understanding. "It's understandable to feel that way. But rest assured, we will do everything in our power to protect Nephele."

Y/N smiled faintly, but there was a sadness in her eyes that Seungcheol couldn't ignore. "I just wish there was another way. I don't want to see more bloodshed or lose any more lives."

Seungcheol took a step closer to Y/N, his hand reaching out to gently touch her arm. "I know," he said softly. "I wish for the same thing. But sometimes, in order to protect what we love, we must make difficult choices."

Y/N's eyes met Seungcheol's, and in that moment, Seungcheol could feel the weight of their unspoken feelings hanging between them. He quickly withdrew his hand, stepping back.

"Your Highness, it's getting late," Seungcheol said, his voice slightly strained. "You should return to your chambers and rest."

Y/N nodded, turning to leave. But before she did, she looked back at Seungcheol. "Thank you, Seungcheol. For always being there for me."

Seungcheol watched her go, his heart heavy with the knowledge that he could never have her. Not while tensions between their kingdoms ran so high.

—

Despite the tensions between the kingdoms, life in Nephele continued as usual. Seungcheol continued to train and lead his knights, while Y/N remained confined to the castle walls, longing for a chance to explore the world outside.

One day, news arrived that Minghao, the prince of Roseate, had made a bold move, one that could be interpreted as a threat to Nephele. It was rumoured that he had sent a letter to the king of Nephele, demanding that he submit to Roseate's rule or face the consequences. The tension between the two kingdoms reached new heights, and everyone in Nephele was on edge.

Seungcheol spent countless nights strategizing with his fellow knights, determined to protect his kingdom at all costs. Meanwhile, Y/N grew increasingly restless, tired of being kept in the dark about everything that was going on.

One day, while wandering the castle gardens, Y/N stumbled upon Seungcheol. He was standing by the fountain, deep in thought. She approached him, hoping for some answers.

"Seungcheol," she said softly. "What's going to happen to Nephele? Will we be safe?"

Seungcheol turned to face her, his eyes filled with concern. "I can't say for certain, Y/N," he said. "But I promise you, I will do everything in my power to protect this kingdom. That's what I was trained to do, and I take that duty very seriously."

Y/N nodded, feeling comforted by his words. She took a step closer to him, and Seungcheol could feel the warmth radiating from her body. He couldn't help but feel drawn to her, even though he knew it was forbidden.

As if sensing his inner turmoil, Y/N reached out and placed a hand on his arm. "Seungcheol, I know we come from different worlds," she said. "But I feel like we have a connection, something special. Don't you feel it too?"

Seungcheol froze, unsure of what to say. He knew he couldn't deny the feelings he had for her any longer, but he also knew that pursuing a relationship with her would be dangerous, both for him and for Nephele.

"I do feel it, Y/N," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at Seungcheol's words, and she knew then that she felt the same way. Without a word, she leaned in and kissed him. The kiss was hesitant at first, but soon turned passionate as they let go of their reservations.

Their tongues danced passionately in chorus with each other as Y/N's hand clutched desperately onto Seungcheols shirt, fisting it as if she was scared to be separated from him. Seungcheol brought his hand up, placing it onto her jaw and angling her head up to give him better access to her plush lips, using his spare hand as support for the back of y/n's head.

As they separated, their foreheads joint and their heartbeats each beating in a hurry, they stared into each other's eyes, a silent conversation occurred as they explored the colours and emotions evident in each of their irises.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Princess?" Seungcheol spoke, his voice wavering with desperation as he slowly massaged the back of her head and looked deeply at her. Once he felt her nod against him, he guided them through the walls of the castle, using his knight training to avoid passersby as he led them into Y/N's private chambers.

Seungcheol made work of untying the layers making up Y/Ns blush pink gown, carefully untying the ribbons as he pressed delicate kisses against her collarbone, relishing in the breathless gasps she would release. Y/N gasps loudly and brings her arms to wrap around his neck as Seungcheol lifts her up from the backs of her thighs.

Without struggle, Seungcheol walks them towards her bed, carefully laying her down so her back rests on the mattress, but still not letting his arms unwrap from around her, y/n doing the same, not wanting to separate from him.

Seungcheol trails his fingers towards the end of her undergarments, slowly tucking his fingers down to lift them up and off her, revealing her bare self to him. Seungcheol refrains himself from sighing in pleasure as he stares back into her eyes, feeling complete as he puts his mouth upon her, licking and sucking her most sensitive parts as she writhes above him.

Y/N's hands rested on his broad shoulder as he ravished her, clawing at the material of his shirt with shakey hands, silently signalling for him to take it off, wanting to see, and feel, more of him.

Seungcheol tore his shirt off, wanting to obey all of Y/N's wants and fulfil her needs. However, he didn't waste time as he went back to relishing in the sweet taste of her core, moaning and humming in pleasure as he slowed down his advances, instead, laying gently kisses over her core, not once breaking eye contact, "You like that, Princess? You like it when I bury my mouth onto your pretty pussy like this? Oh I know you do, you're practically leaking, aren't you, my pretty princess?"

"Yes, Cheol, oh yes. 'Makes me feel so good when you l-lick me!" Y/N mewled, in between pleased squeals and whimpers.

Seungcheol didn't hesitate to add a finger into the mix, curling it into a hook as he eased it inside of her, making a grabbing motion with his finger as he moved it inside her, relishing in the feeling of her squeezing around him, "S'not enough for you, is it, Princess? You want another finger, you can't get enough of me, right? Well, you have to ask for it, Princess. Tell me what you want?"

"Y-you, I want more of you, need more of you inside me. Give me more, Cheolie!" Y/N begged in between startled moans as her fingers dug into his shoulders, no doubt leaving scars behind in her wake.

Seungcheol follows as she commanded, chuckling lowly to himself at her desperation as he pumped another finger inside her whilst using his tongue to play with her clit, feeling himself harden at her moans.

"Why don't you taste yourself, princess?" Seunghceol urges as he brings his covered fingers up to her mouth, seeing her take them in and suck on them whilst looking into his eyes, "God, you're so perfect, princess, I need you right now, fuck, need to be inside of you."

Seungcheol stands up from his place on his knees, making work of escaping from his briefs to reveal himself, standing tall as the bright red tips released pre-cum that dripped down his veiny base. He grabbed her thighs, lifting them to wrap around his waist, leaving him to tease her entrance with his tip.

"You ready for me, Princess? Ready for me to make you completely mine?" Seungcheol asked, stroking her hair from her eyes, wanting to see all of her as he claimed her. His eyes softened momentarily as he breathed against her lips before pressing them to meet hers in a gentle kiss before he slowly plunged into her, moaning lowly as she squeezed him and gasped out his name, "Thats right, princess, say my name. I'm yours."

Their bodies entwined, and they moved together in a rhythm that was both passionate and gentle. Y/N's fingers dug into Seungcheol's back as she cried out his name, lost in the sensations that he was stirring within her.

Seungcheol was equally lost in the moment, his love for Y/N spurring him on to new heights of passion. He whispered sweet nothings into her ear, his breath hot against her skin as he brought her to the brink of ecstasy.

As the night wore on, their movements became more frantic and their breaths more ragged. Seungcheol explored every inch of Y/N's body with his hands, his lips, and his tongue, leaving trails of fire in his wake. Y/N moaned and writhed beneath him, her fingers tangled in his hair as he brought her closer and closer to the edge.

Finally, with a gasp, she shattered into a million pieces, her body shaking with pleasure. Seungcheol held her tightly as she rode out the waves of her orgasm. He moved inside her slowly at first, savouring the feeling of her tightness around him, but soon his movements became more urgent.

Y/N met him thrust for thrust, arching her back and crying out his name as they moved together in perfect harmony. As they lay there afterwards, sweat-drenched and breathless, Seungcheol pulled Y/N into his arms and held her tightly, as if he never wanted to let her go. "I love you," he whispered into her hair, as Y/N slept from within his arms.

The night was filled with whispered promises and moments of pure bliss. For a while, they forgot about the tensions between their kingdoms and the duties that awaited them. But as the morning light began to filter through the curtains, Seungcheol reluctantly pulled away from Y/N's embrace.

Seungcheol gazed at Y/N's face as they lay tangled in the sheets, her breathing slowly returning to normal. He couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for what he was planning to do next. But he knew it was for the best, for both of them.

Y/N stirred and turned to him, snuggling into his chest. "Seungcheol, promise me you'll come back to me," she whispered.

He brushed a lock of hair from her face and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. "I promise, Y/N. I'll always come back to you."

But as he got dressed and prepared to leave, Seungcheol couldn't shake the feeling of dread in his chest. He knew that his plan was the only way to keep Y/N safe from his own feelings, but it didn't make it any easier to go through with it.

As he left Y/N's chambers, Seungcheol took one last look at her sleeping form and whispered, "Forgive me."

—

As Seungcheol made his way back to his quarters, he couldn't help but feel conflicted. He knew that he couldn't let his feelings for Y/N get in the way of his duty to Nephele. He needed to put his kingdom first, even if it meant hurting the woman he loved.

The next morning, Seungcheol woke up early, his mind already racing with plans. He needed to distance himself from Y/N, to make her hate him so that they could both move on. He couldn't let himself be distracted by his feelings any longer.

He dressed quickly, deliberately ignoring the marks Y/N had given him the night before. It was a painful reminder of what they could never have. As he made his way to the stables, Seungcheol came up with a silent plan to make Y/N hate him. He would be cold and distant, ignoring her every chance he got. It would hurt, but it was necessary.

As he mounted his horse and rode out to the front lines, Seungcheol couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness. He knew that what he was doing was necessary, but it didn't make it any less painful. He would bear the burden of his unrequited love in silence, sacrificing his own happiness for the good of his kingdom.

Little did he know, Y/N was sitting in her chambers, tears streaming down her face as she tried to come to terms with Seungcheol's departure. She couldn't help but wonder if she would ever see him again, or if their passionate night together was just a fleeting moment of happiness before their inevitable separation.

—

As he made his way to the courtyard, he noticed a group of soldiers gathered around a table, poring over maps and discussing strategy. Seungcheol strode over, his mind fully focused on the task at hand.

"We need to secure the northern border," he said, addressing the soldiers. "If Roseate decides to attack, that's where they'll come from."

The soldiers nodded in agreement, and Seungcheol continued to give orders, outlining a plan of attack. He was so focused on the task at hand that he didn't notice Jeonghan approaching.

"Seungcheol," Jeonghan said, his tone laced with contempt. "I didn't know you were the one in charge here. I thought that was the job of the King, not the head knight."

Seungcheol bristled at Jeonghan's tone, but he kept his voice even as he responded. "Your father is busy with other matters," he said, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. "It falls to me to protect Nephele."

Jeonghan sneered. "Protecting Nephele? Is that what you call it? It seems to me like you're more interested in cosying up to my sister."

Seungcheol felt a surge of anger at Jeonghan's words, but he forced himself to stay calm. "You have no right to speak to me like that," he said through gritted teeth. "I am a loyal knight of Nephele, and I will do whatever it takes to protect this kingdom."

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? I wonder how far your loyalty really extends."

Seungcheol gritted his teeth, feeling the blood rush to his face. He wanted to lash out at Jeonghan, to defend himself and his honour. But he knew that it would only make things worse.

Instead, he turned on his heel and walked away, feeling Jeonghan's eyes burning into his back. He had a job to do, and he couldn't let anything get in the way of that.

As he walked towards the stables to prepare his horse, Seungcheol couldn't help but wonder if his plan to push Y/N away was the right one. He knew that it was for the greater good, but the thought of never seeing her again made his heartache.

But he pushed those thoughts aside, reminding himself that duty came before personal feelings. He mounted his horse and rode off towards the northern border, steeling himself for the battle that lay ahead.

—

As he rode out to meet the Roseate army, Seungcheol felt a pang in his heart at the thought of Y/N. He couldn't let his guard down, though. He had to keep his mind clear and his focus sharp.

The battle was fierce, with both sides suffering heavy casualties. Seungcheol fought with all his might, his mind focused solely on the battle. He couldn't afford to make any mistakes.

As the battle raged on, Seungcheol spotted Minghao on the opposite side of the battlefield. He gritted his teeth in anger, thinking about the tensions between Nephele and Roseate caused by the Prince's recent actions.

Seungcheol and his men fought valiantly, eventually pushing back the Roseate army and claiming temporary victory for Nephele.

The battle was intense and gruelling, but Seungcheol led the Nephele army to victory. As he rode back into the kingdom, he saw Y/N waiting for him, a look of concern etched on her face.

"Seungcheol, are you okay?" she asked, rushing over to him.

He forced himself to be cold, to push her away. "I'm fine, Princess. Just doing my duty as head knight."

Y/N looked hurt, but she didn't push the issue. Seungcheol knew that he had to keep up this act, even if it hurt both of them in the process.

Days turned into weeks, and Seungcheol continued to distance himself from Y/N. He was cold and distant, always putting his duty to the kingdom above his personal feelings.

Y/N tried to reach out to him, to understand what had happened between them, but Seungcheol shut her out. He couldn't risk giving in to his feelings for her, no matter how much he wanted to.

Eventually, Y/N began to give up hope. She stopped trying to reach out to Seungcheol, and their interactions became strained and formal.

Seungcheol watched her from afar, his heart breaking at the thought of losing her. But he knew that it was for the best. He couldn't let their feelings for each other get in the way of his duty to Nephele.

So he pushed her away, silently bearing the pain of his own broken heart.

—

For the next few days, Seungcheol kept his distance from Y/N. He went about his duties as head knight, staying focused on training the soldiers and organizing battle plans in case of another attack. Whenever Y/N approached him, he was curt and distant. It was painful for him to do, but he knew it was for the best.

Y/N was confused and hurt by Seungcheol's sudden change in behaviour. She tried to talk to him, but he always had some excuse to leave or was too busy to pay her much attention.

Days turned into weeks and soon Seungcheol was preparing for the final battle against Roseate. As they were about to leave, Y/N approached him once more. "Seungcheol, please talk to me," she pleaded. "What's going on? Why are you acting like this?"

Seungcheol took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to say. "Y/N, I can't do this anymore," he said, his voice steady but laced with pain. "I can't keep pretending that everything is okay between us when I know that it's not. We both know that what we shared was a mistake. It can't happen again."

Y/N was shocked and hurt by Seungcheol's words. Tears filled her eyes as she struggled to comprehend what he was saying. "Seungcheol, please don't do this," she begged. "We can work through this together. We can figure it out."

But Seungcheol remained firm. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I can't," he said, before turning and walking away, leaving Y/N alone and heartbroken.

As he rode away, Seungcheol couldn't help but feel like he was making the biggest mistake of his life. But he knew it was necessary. He had to push Y/N away before their feelings became too strong to ignore. He had to do what was best for both of them, even if it meant sacrificing his own happiness.

Seungcheol watched as Y/N walked away, feeling a pang of guilt in his chest. He knew he was hurting her, but he couldn't let himself get any closer to her. Not when he had a duty to fulfil to Nephele.

—

As the bright summer months began to change into a gruelling winter, Seungcheol continued to avoid Y/N's company whenever he could. He focused on his duties as the head knight and tried to push aside the growing feelings he had for the princess.

But it wasn't easy. Every time he saw her, his heart ached. He missed the way she smiled at him, the sound of her laughter, the warmth of her touch. But he knew he had to stay strong, for both their sakes.

One day, as Seungcheol was training his men in the courtyard, he saw Y/N walking towards him. He tensed up, unsure of what to do.

"Seungcheol," Y/N said, her voice soft.

"Princess," he replied, keeping his tone cold and formal.

"I…I know you've been avoiding me," she said, her eyes downcast. "And I understand why. But I can't help how I feel."

Seungcheol felt his resolve crumbling. He wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and tell her how he felt. But he knew he couldn't.

"Princess, please," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I can't…we can't."

"Why?" Y/N asked, looking up at him with tears in her eyes.

"Because it's forbidden," Seungcheol replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I have a duty to this kingdom."

"But don't you have a duty to yourself as well?" Y/N asked, her voice trembling.

Seungcheol sighed heavily. He knew she was right. He had been trying so hard to deny his own feelings that he had forgotten to take care of himself.

"I…I don't know," he said finally. "All I know is that we can't be together. Not now, at least."

Y/N nodded, tears streaming down her face. "I understand," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But it doesn't make it any easier."

Seungcheol felt a lump form in his throat as he watched her walk away. He knew he had made the right decision, but it didn't stop his heart from breaking.

—

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. Seungcheol had been away on the frontlines, leading the charge against the kingdom of Roseate. Y/N was left in the castle, waiting anxiously for any news of the war. She had tried to reach out to Seungcheol, but he was cold and distant, ignoring her letters and avoiding her at every turn.

Y/N couldn't understand why Seungcheol was acting this way. She had thought they had something special, something that could survive the trials of war and distance. But now, she was left feeling confused and heartbroken. She had never felt this way before, and it scared her.

One day, Y/N was walking in the castle gardens, lost in her thoughts when she heard a voice behind her. "Princess, a messenger from the front lines has arrived with news for you."

Y/N turned around and saw a young soldier, his face weary and tired. "What news do you have?" she asked, her heart pounding in her chest.

The soldier hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I'm sorry to inform you, but the head knight, Seungcheol, was captured by the enemy. We don't know his fate, but we fear the worst."

Y/N felt like the ground had been ripped from beneath her feet. Her heart ached with indescribable pain. She couldn't believe that Seungcheol was gone, that he might never come back to her.

She went to her chambers and sat down at her desk, her hands shaking as she wrote a letter to her brother, Jeonghan, begging him to help her find Seungcheol. She knew that Jeonghan didn't approve of their relationship, but she had to do everything in her power to save Seungcheol.

Days turned into weeks, and Y/N heard nothing from Jeonghan. She felt hopeless, alone, and scared. She missed Seungcheol more than anything in the world, and she didn't know what to do without him.

Y/N spent her days waiting for any news of Seungcheol, praying that he was still alive and that they could be reunited. She felt like she was living in a nightmare, and she didn't know how to escape it.

—

As Seungcheol was dragged away from the battlefield, he saw Minghao and his soldiers approach him, sneering with a wicked grin on his face. Seungcheol gritted his teeth, his mind racing with the thought of the safety of his kingdom.

"What do you want?" Seungcheol demanded, trying to break free from the hold of the soldiers.

"Ah, the mighty Head Knight of Nephele, how honourable," Minghao taunted, approaching him. "I have heard of your bravery, Seungcheol. Your loyalty to your kingdom is commendable, but I'm afraid it will not save you now."

Seungcheol's heart sank, realizing that he was completely outnumbered and outmatched. He tried to keep his composure, knowing that showing fear would only give them more satisfaction. But inside, he was terrified.

"What do you want from me?" Seungcheol repeated, struggling to keep his voice steady.

Minghao leaned in close, a sly smile on his face. "Oh, nothing much. Just a little information."

Seungcheol's heart raced, knowing that he couldn't reveal any secrets about Nephele, even under the threat of torture. He steeled himself, ready to face whatever was to come.

But little did he know, this would be the beginning of a long and painful journey for both himself and Y/N.

—

Days passed before Seungcheol was once again brought before the Roseate King, Minghaos father, who had mysteriously recovered from the plague seeming to corrupt all five kingdoms, and his generals. However, Minghao's presence was not there, his absence leaving a fierce feeling of doom amongst Seungcheol.

They stood before him with smirks on their faces, ready to interrogate him for information on the Nephele kingdom. They had been brutal with him, trying to break him down, but Seungcheol remained strong. He refused to give them any information that would harm his kingdom.

The Roseate King grew impatient and raised his voice, "You are a loyal dog, Seungcheol, but your loyalty to the Nephele kingdom will be your downfall."

Seungcheol remained steadfast, his eyes never leaving the king's as he teased Seuncheol with the idea of hurting the ones he loved most, seeming to go through a mental list in his mind to spot any weaknesses.

"What about Princess Y/N, a pretty one I hear, loved amongst all the kingdoms." The King began, the corners of his lips rising as he spotted Seuncheols heaving chest.

Seungcheol's eyes hardened with determination. He knew then that he would fight until his last breath to protect her and his kingdom.

The Roseate King noticed the change in Seungcheol's demeanour and grinned. "Ah, I see we have touched a nerve. Tell us about your relationship with the princess."

Seungcheol's jaw clenched. He would not betray Y/N's trust, even if it meant his death.

"It would be a shame, wouldn't it, if one were to hurt the precious princess." One of the guards started, sizing Seungcheol up with his eyes as he talked.

Seungcheol saw red. He broke free from his restraints, instead using them as a weapon to weaken the guards surrounding him.

Seungcheol fought with a ferocity that surprised even himself. His muscles flexed with each movement, his sword slicing through the air with ease. He was a warrior, a protector, and nothing would stand in his way of protecting his kingdom and the woman he loved.

As he fought, Seungcheol heard Y/N's voice in his head, urging him on. He fought for her, for their love, and for the future, they could have together. The Roseate soldiers fell one by one, and soon Seungcheol was the only one standing.

Breathing heavily, he stood tall and looked at the Roseate King with a fierce glare. "I will protect my kingdom and my princess with my life. You will never lay a hand on her."

With that, Seungcheol turned and walked away, leaving the Roseate Kingdom behind. He would return to Nephele and to Y/N, to fight for their future and to love her with all his heart.

—

As Seungcheol stepped off his horse, he immediately spotted Y/N. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her hair was dishevelled from the wind. He couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt at the sight of her. He approached her slowly, unsure of how she would react.

But as soon as she saw him, all her reservations melted away. She ran towards him, her arms outstretched, and jumped into his embrace. Seungcheol wrapped his arms tightly around her, tears threatening to spill from his own eyes.

"Seungcheol!" Y/N cried, her voice choked with emotion. "I was so worried about you."

Seungcheol held her close, feeling the warmth of her body against his own. He buried his face in her hair, taking in her familiar scent. For a moment, he forgot all about the past, about the war, about everything except the woman in his arms.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry for everything."

Y/N pulled back slightly, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. "I forgive you," she said softly. "I just want you to be safe."

Seungcheol nodded, his own eyes filling with tears. "I'll do everything in my power to protect you," he vowed.

The two of them stood there for a while longer, holding each other tightly. Y/N didn't care about the people passing by, staring at them. All she cared about was Seungcheol and the fact that he was finally back in her arms.

Finally, they pulled away from each other, and Seungcheol took a step back, his eyes scanning Y/N's face. "You're so beautiful," he said softly. Y/N blushed at his words, feeling her heart flutter in her chest. "Thank you," she whispered.

Seungcheol smiled at her, a warm, genuine smile that reached all the way to his eyes. It was a smile that made Y/N's heart skip a beat.

Seungcheol held Y/N in his arms, feeling her tears soak into his shirt. He pulled back slightly to look at her face, his thumb wiping away the tears that fell down her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N," Seungcheol whispered, his voice heavy with guilt. "I should have never left you. I should have never tried to push you away."

Y/N looked up at Seungcheol, her eyes red and puffy from crying. "I don't care," she said softly. "I just want you. I've missed you so much."

Seungcheol's heart swelled with emotion. "I've missed you too, Y/N. More than you can imagine."

They stood there for a moment, lost in each other's eyes. And then, without another word, Seungcheol leaned down and captured Y/N's lips in a passionate kiss. She responded eagerly, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer.

The kiss was long and heated, full of the pent-up desire and longing they had been feeling for each other. When they finally pulled away, they were both breathless and flushed.

"I love you, Y/N," Seungcheol said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I love you more than anything."

Y/N smiled through her tears. "I love you too, Seungcheol. I always have and I always will."

They kissed again, this time slower and more tender. They were lost in each other, finally free to love each other without fear or hesitation.

Jeonghan stood there in shock as he watched his sister and Seungcheol embrace each other. He had suspected that there was something between them, but he never expected it to be this intense. He watched as Seungcheol whispered sweet nothings into Y/N's ear, wiping away her tears.

The king, who had been watching from a distance, approached them with a stern look on his face. "Seungcheol, I understand that you have feelings for my daughter, but you know that as the Head Knight of Nephele, it is your duty to put your kingdom before your personal desires."

Seungcheol looked at the king with a determined expression. "I know that, Your Highness, but my duty to my kingdom does not mean that I have to give up on my happiness. I love Y/N with all my heart, and I will do whatever it takes to make her happy."

The king sighed heavily, knowing that he couldn't deny the love between Seungcheol and Y/N any longer. "Very well. But know that your actions will have consequences. I will not tolerate any disruption to the peace between our two kingdoms."

Seungcheol nodded his head in understanding, still holding onto Y/N tightly. Jeonghan finally snapped out of his daze and approached the couple with a wide smile on his face. "Well, it's about time you two finally confessed your love for each other! I always knew there was something special between you."

Y/N laughed through her tears and hugged her brother. "Thank you for understanding, Jeonghan. We just couldn't keep our feelings hidden any longer."

The rest of the day was filled with celebrations and feasts as the news of the two kingdoms finally coming together in love spread. Seungcheol and Y/N were inseparable, holding hands and stealing kisses whenever they could. They knew that they had a long road ahead of them, but they were willing to face it together.

As they watched the sunset together, Seungcheol pulled Y/N into his arms once again. "I never want to let you go, Y/N. You mean everything to me."

Y/N smiled up at him, her heart full of love and happiness. "I feel the same way, Seungcheol. I can't believe we were both so blind to our feelings for each other."

Seungcheol kissed her forehead gently. "But now we know, and we can make up for the lost time. I promise to love and protect you for as long as I live."

Y/N snuggled into his embrace, feeling safe and loved. "And I promise to love and support you in everything you do, Seungcheol. Together, we can conquer anything."

Y/N's arms tightened around him as she returned his kiss with equal fervour. They stood there, lost in each other's embrace, for what felt like an eternity. When they finally pulled away, they were both smiling through their tears.

"I missed you so much," Y/N said, looking up at Seungcheol with adoration in her eyes.

"I missed you too, Y/N," Seungcheol replied, his eyes shining with affection. "And I promise that I will never leave your side again."

As they walked away from the crowd, Seungcheol couldn't help but feel grateful for the second chance he had been given. He knew that he would never take Y/N for granted again, and he would always cherish the love that they shared.

it’s here, the first instalment of the sonder series! please comment and reblog, all feedback is appreciated and don’t be scared to literally spam my ask box since i really like interacting with readers. make sure to let me know which instalment you’re most excited for so i can start writing them!

tags : @shiningstar-byulxx @woo8hao @hoshi-mochi @sanxoxodra @memoooooooooo @tara-drabbles @eiiasmarteii @mimisxs @hikyeom @dearlosver

[ellebakers]

I am not an object | Part one.

Part Two

• Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary : Daemon broke your heart more than once, will you forgive him when he tries to get you back ?

Warning(s) : Daemon is a dick, angst, fight, jealousy, language, mention of Harwin.

You couldn't believe it.

He had come back. Prince Daemon was back at the castle, you didn't know if your heart could survive another heartache. When Alicent told you this news you had to sit down to avoid falling backwards.

Concerned, the queen sat down at your side. "Y/n, are you okay ?" Your throat tightened and you nodded reassuringly, unable to speak.

If twenty years ago you had been told that Alicent would become your rock here, you would not have believed it.

Indeed, during your childhood, you were not the best friends in the world. The only thing you had in common was being Rhaenyra's Maids and friends.

It was while becoming friends with the princess that you met Daemon.

The first time you had seen him was during a meal given in honor of the future son of the king, he had not even cast a single glance in your direction, but who cares, you were fifteen years and for the first time you had felt new feelings towards the prince.

Your first broken heart was when you learned from Rhaenyra that he was going to marry a whore.

This woman didn't love him, how could he marry her ?

Then this (love) story didn't work, so he came back to his family, and it was from that moment that things changed between you since the evening of his return, after a few drinks, he insisted on sharing with you, he ended up taking your virginity, and these activities became commonplace since every time he wanted to relax, he came to see you, fucked you and left.

Then there was Laena, and he stopped coming to see you, he wasn't even looking at you anymore, he just left.

Years passed, and as you recovered from the behing hole Daemon had left in your heart, it was Rhaenyra who stabbed you. She stopped talking to you, leaving you alone, at least until Alicent insisted on hiring you as a companion, but over time you became like sisters.

As you gradually regained control of your life and your emotions, Laena died. And the same routine returned. Daemon came back, he cried on your shoulder, making you feel guilty, he fucked you again until he found interest in Rhaenyra and dumped you again, leaving Alicent to manage with a broken friend.

Some time passed and you managed to rebuild yourself, until Rhaenyra returned to live in the castle with her sons and... Daemon.

That's why you find yourself sitting around the table where the Targaryen family and Hightower were, the tension was palpable but for the good of the king, the two parties said nothing.

You kept a neutral face as Alicent tried to talk you out of your mind, but you felt Daemon's piercing gaze on you, there was no way you were giving him satisfaction and looking at him.

Alicent had to leave to take care of the king, leaving the place next to you empty, and Daemon wasted no time in coming to occupy it.

"Lady Y/n."

His voice was low and smooth, he used to use that voice when he wanted to end up between your thighs.

You took a big sip of wine to give yourself courage and without looking him in the eye you greeted him.

"Prince Daemon, it's good to see you again. I'm sorry but I'm not feeling very well, it's better that I go back to my room. Please excuse me."

You got up and all eyes were on you, something you hated, you sneaked in politely smiling at the guests, once out of the room you let out a breath of relief and went towards your room .

As you walked through the darkness, footsteps were heard behind you, as you were afraid it was Daemon, you were relieved to hear the voice of your protector, Ser Harwin Strong.

"Lady Y/n, are you feeling okay ?"

You smiled sincerely at him and sighed. "I'm just a little tired Ser Harwin."

The knight looked around and once assured that there was no one, he approached you slightly. "Tell me the truth my lady please."

You took a deep breath. "I am scared." You admitted, your lip trembling.

Harwin grabbed your face in his hands and with the back of his thumb he wiped away the tears that were falling.

“Tell me what you’re afraid of.”

"I know I won't be able to resist him, and I'm afraid he'll rip my heart out again."

Harwin Strong was, along with Alicent, the only person who knew about you and Daemon. He was assigned to you as a protector by the queen when she married the king, so he saw the damage the prince had done to you.

One thing you didn't know was that he dreamed of smashing Daemon's face against a wall every time he saw you crying because of him.

"Listen to me Lady Y/n, you are the fiercest woman I know besides being the kindest, smartest, sweetest and most beautiful. And cut out my tongue for what I'm about to say, Prince Daemon only thinks with his dick, he doesn't deserve you to look at him, you are so much better than him, don't let him have a hold on you."

His words made you blush, but they also gave you the strength needed to face Daemon, and the next day when the prince requested an audience with you, you accepted, along with Ser Harwin of course.

Daemon was surprised that you didn't ask your protector to leave, and even though it bothered him, he swallowed his anger and invited you to sit at the table in the garden.

"Lady Y/n, I am delighted that you have accepted my invitation. It is truly a pleasure to be in your company. I would like that said, to discuss a private matter with you, you might ask Ser Harwin to leave so that-"

"No."

Daemon was surprised by your tone.

"Excuse me ?"

"I won't ask Ser Harwin to leave, if you have anything you want to talk to me about you can do it in front of him."

The prince blinked, looking between you and Harwin. "I don't think he wants to hear what I have to say."

You repositioned yourself on the chair to have an upright and sure posture, then you crossed your arms on your chest.

"I believe I know what you wish to speak to me about my prince and I can assure you that Ser Harwin is aware of what is bothering you."

Having had enough of beating around the bush, Daemon leaned on the stone table. "Fine. Why are you avoiding me ?"

You couldn't help laughing. Asshole.

"Are you serious ?"

He was looking at you like "In your opinion ?"

You looked at Harwin for a moment, and his encouraging words from yesterday began to echo in your head, suddenly a rush of adrelanin invaded you, you turned your attention back to the prince and you took a deep breath before speaking as calmly as possible.

"I am not avoiding you my prince, I am only staying in my place. I am not one of your servants or even your whore." Harwin pursed his lip to keep from smiling with pride. Daemon, in the other hand, was speechless.

"All these years you have only used me when you needed it and then threw me away like you throw leftovers at dogs. And once again you come back to me, why ? Either because the princess does not satisfy you, or out of pride, for years I was stupid enough to believe in you and imagine things, but that time is over."

You got up slowly and slightly put your dress back in place before adding. "Contrary to what you think my prince, I am not an object. Now please excuse me but this meeting is over."

As you turned your back on Daemon, he called out to you. “You seem to forget something.”

You turned to face him. "What ?"

He was still sitting, he had something evil in his eyes. “I always get what I want.”

Even though he scared you, you decided not to show him. "Not this time my prince.

As you walked back, Daemon and Harwin looked at each other.

The prince was clearly mad and had a look of

We'll see.

As for Ser Harwin, he had an expression of pride.

That’s my girl.

[e-nonsense]

GODS AND GOTHAM

pairing. luke castellan x fem!wayne!reader

summary. in a universe where the daughter of athena is the dark knight and the son of hermes is a cat burglar. Just a couple random moments in your lives.

warnings. typical batman-y violence, reader’s skin tone is described as bronzer

a/n. based of a this random headcanon i had

wc. ?.0k not proofread

“Put it back, Luke.” Your voice echoes through the rainy night on Gotham’s rooftops. A soft laugh coming in response, you watch the man in front of you turn around to face you, his hands pulling his mask off revealing his face to you. “Aw, darling. You came,” his voice teases as he steps closer, his free hand reaching for your mask.

“Don’t,” you sigh, catching his wrist before his hand can reach your face, instead of saying anything else he merely pouts at you before handing over the small pouch of stolen jewels.

“So darling, where did you go?” He purrs, his fingers tracing along your jaw. “You left your little bird to keep the streets safe, i have to say it wasn’t as fun being chased as it is when it’s just you and me.”

He grins cheekily as you roll your eyes, “don’t be like that.” He mutters.

He steps closer, leaving no room between the two of you. “Cmon darling, you know you missed me.” He whispers, head dipping down to meet you eyes, “kiss me?” He asks and you scoff, though you make no move to stop him as his lips press against yours.

Quick and messy, your fingers gripped the strands of his curled hair and he groans as you pull back, moving closer in desperation for more but you deny him by turning away from him.

“I have to return these,” you mutter and he watches as you dive off the rooftop onto the neighbouring one with ease.

He sighs once you’re out of range, “always running.”

—

“Got your eyes set?” Your voice calls out, smooth and sultry. He doesn’t realise it’s you though, not without the mask. Right now you’re just another billionaire in a room of riches. So when he turns and he’s met with the sight of the richest person in Gotham he smirks.

“Ms Wayne,” Luke grins, moving subtly to make room for you beside him. “And yes, don’t you think it’s just eye catching?” He asks.

“It is, though I do hear things tend to go missing around you Mr Castellan.” Your reply is smooth, well calculated and the sound of your voice tints his cheeks pink under the weight of your gaze.

“Just pretty things. You’ll have to be careful then, you might go missing too.”

“Sounds fun, I’m always up for a little adventure.” You say, eyes moving the pearl set of rings on display behind the glass. The conversation went quiet after that, just the two of you standing beside each other, his eyes on the pearls, your eyes on him.

“Why don’t i buy you dinner sometime?” You offer out of the blue, eyes drinking in the sight of him shamelessly. His head tilts to look your way, “I’d like that.”

“How’s Friday night?” You asks, grabbing a card from your pocket and scribbling your personal number on it. “I’ll send someone to pick you up.”

“You’re a doll,” he smirks, slipping the card into his pocket before moving away and into the crowd, away from you.

—

“What do you want?” You question, arms crossed clearly unamused under the mask.

“Can’t i just want to see my favourite bat?” He retorted, and you merely hummed, he had a feeling that was all he’d be getting from you. It was infuriating, how little you gave to him, always leaving him needing more.

“Fine, i need your help.”

“With?”

“Roman Sionis.”

He senses the way your eyes narrow behind the white lenses in your mask, a soft growl of annoyance leaving your throat. “What did he do?”

“He’s got my brother.. and a lot of other kids. Child trafficking ring.”

“Ad you’re telling me only because he’s got your brother?” You ask irritated by his selfishness.

He has the decency to look ashamed, “what else are you not telling me?” You ask, stepping forward.

“That’s all i know.”

You let out a noise, something between a scoff and that signature hum you always let out when you’re thinking. “Fine, take me to him.”

—

“I’m starting to think you’re avoiding me, pretty bat.” He called out, sitting on the ledge of Wayne enterprises building.

You stay silent, not bothering to answer. He still had no idea who you were, he’d given you his identity before you could inevitably figure it out on your own. Luke Castellan, practically a nobody.

He’d never been caught by cops, which you were glad about otherwise he’d most likely be locked up somewhere far away from you. But you wouldn’t admit that. Never.

“Oh come on, what did i do this time?” He questioned, turning to face you before he froze, seeing your face for the first time since he met you.

You with the prettiest pair of eyes, and the bronze of your skin not given justice due to the darkness of Gotham city. You’d look so much better in the sun, but the dark suited you so much.

“Ms Wayne…? now this is a surprise.” He murmured, eyes dropping to the bat emblem on your chest, as if to reassure himself the you were indeed the bat that prowled the city every night.

You stepped closer, sitting down my the ledge next to him. “What do you wanna know?” You asked, voice low in a deep feminine way, it made butterflies erupt in his tummy.

So he asked the first question, the sun rising by the time you were gone.

© e-nonsense. do no copy/steal/translate. do it and I’ll bite your toes off

[elysiaheaven]

𝗛𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿..? -𝟯𝟬-(The Fox's Wedding)-End ?

The day came when you were supposed to be discharged. The room was quiet, the air still, when Bailu entered, her small figure barely making a sound. She approached your bed, eyes bright with hope. "Are you awake?" she whispered, peering closely at you.

But before she could get a proper answer, your instincts took over. Panic swelled within you, and without thinking, you tore yourself from the bed and ran. You didn’t know where you were going, only that you couldn’t stay. Not like this.

Later, Feixiao received word that you had disappeared. She listened carefully as the messenger explained what had happened, her expression calm yet unreadable. "So, she ran away again…" She leaned back, arms crossed, her eyes narrowing in thought.

One of the knights beside her shifted uneasily. "Should we send someone after her, General?"

Feixiao shook her head slowly, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "No… let her be for now. Y/N needs to decide what she wants for herself today. Maybe this is her way of finding her answer."

She gazed out of the window, her mind heavy with concern but understanding. "Sometimes, people need to run before they can face the truth."

Jiaoqiu sat in his recovery bed, the faint light from the window barely making a difference to his sightless eyes. His once sharp gaze was now a thing of the past, but his other senses were heightened. He could feel every shift in the air, hear the softest rustle of the leaves, and, more importantly, he could sense the emptiness in the room—your absence.

Rayne had just delivered the news, her voice hesitant, as if she were unsure how to tell him that you had run away.

He tilted his head slightly, a small, weary smile forming on his lips. “Such a devious little kitsune…” he said, his voice low but filled with a strange affection. “Always slipping through fingers like sand.”

His hand lifted to his face, tracing the bandages over his eyes. Even though he couldn’t see, he felt you in his mind, as if you were still lingering close, as if you were just out of reach. He knew you ran because you were scared, perhaps even ashamed. But he didn’t blame you. How could he? He understood the pain you carried, the burden of your existence.

“You’ll come back to me,” he murmured softly, his voice carrying a certain patience, as if he had all the time in the world. “It will take time… but you will.”

He leaned back into the bed, sighing deeply. There was no rush. He had been through so much already, and so had you. You were both scarred in ways no one could truly understand, but he wasn’t worried. You would return, as you always did, like a fox returning to its den.

“Feixiao tells me you’re healing… slowly, but surely,” Jiaoqiu continued, as though speaking to you directly, despite the distance between you. “Maybe you’re out there… running, hiding. But I know you’re trying to find yourself.”

He smiled again, the expression soft but full of understanding. “I’ll wait. We still have time.”

He rested, his thoughts wandered to the letter you had written, the words you had left for him. He had not been able to read them himself, but he had heard them—your voice, so full of emotion, so full of something he couldn’t quite place. He clung to those words, knowing that they were his connection to you, a promise yet to be fulfilled.

“Come back when you’re ready,” he whispered, closing his eyes, sinking deeper into the quiet darkness. “We still have so much to say… and so much more to live for.”

A few days passed.....

It was confirmed...Jiaoqiu's eyesight can't be cured. Even if it's cured it would be only temporary plus, these are not advised for long-term species..

And he was unfortunately a foxian.

Feixiao met him, As he was hearing the sound of waves to...give him her promise.

An eye for a eye.

Jiaoqiu's mind was filled with something else too.

You.

"General, Can you..tell about her...medical report?"

She hesitated but Jiaoqiu wanted to know everything in full detail.

Feixiao read from the health report, her voice growing heavier with each passing line. She described the extensive damage: deep cuts, wounds that had left marks of immense suffering. Each detail was a testament to the severity of the injuries and the relentless pain endured. The gravity of her words was clear, each one weighed down by her sorrow.

When she reached the section detailing the poison, Feixiao’s voice faltered. The report spoke of the poison’s cruel effect—how it slowly and painfully ravaged the patient’s insides. Feixiao’s eyes filled with unshed tears, her distress palpable as she continued, her voice quaking with the weight of the revelation.

Jiaoqiu's reaction was immediate. His hand went to his head, clutching it as if to steady himself against the crushing realization. The poison’s grim effects had struck him deeply. He looked away, unable to confront the full reality of what Feixiao was revealing.

In the silence that followed, Jiaoqiu asked quietly, his voice almost a whisper, "Did she really take poison too?" The question hung heavily in the air, laden with disbelief and despair. His gaze was distant, lost in a maelstrom of regret and sorrow.

He then turned further away, his expression one of profound self-reproach. His internal struggle was evident, and he questioned in a choked voice, "What kind of man am I?" The question was a desperate plea for understanding, a reflection of his deep-seated remorse over the suffering that had unfolded.

Feixiao's heart ached as she watched Jiaoqiu struggle with the weight of guilt. She took a deep breath and spoke softly, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within her.

"It wasn't your fault, Jiaoqiu. None of this is on you." She tried to offer him comfort, to lift the heavy burden he was placing upon himself. Her words, however, seemed to fall on deaf ears.

Jiaoqiu remained silent for a long moment, his hands still cradling his head, eyes closed as though blocking out the reality of the situation. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and filled with weariness. "I… I just need to be alone right now, Feixiao. Please." The words came out strained, each syllable laced with exhaustion, as if he had fought this battle a thousand times within himself.

Feixiao hesitated, torn between leaving him to his thoughts and staying by his side. "We haven't found her yet…" she said quietly, her eyes searching for any sign that he had heard her. "But I know she’s out there… watching, somewhere. Stalking. Always watching."

Unbeknownst to them, you were indeed there, lurking in the shadows, watching the entire exchange unfold. Your gaze remained fixed on Jiaoqiu, your heart caught in the same torment that haunted him. Every word, every movement was etched into your mind as you observed from afar, torn between the urge to reveal yourself and the need to remain hidden.

You kept your distance, carefully avoiding being seen, yet your presence lingered like a specter in the background. Watching. Waiting. Stalking.

You couldn’t stay away any longer. Each step forward, though painful, pulled you closer to him. Even though Jiaoqiu could no longer see, he recognized you instantly—your uneven footsteps, the way you groaned quietly with every step, the sound of your labored breathing. It was as if his senses had adjusted to your presence, like he could feel you coming before you even got close.

"You… Where were you?" His voice was soft, heavy with relief, yet tinged with an unspoken worry.

You hesitated for a moment, standing just a few feet away. The pain in your body was nothing compared to the turmoil inside your heart. "I… I couldn’t be here," you whispered, your voice trembling. You started to turn away, wanting to retreat back into the shadows, but before you could take another step, Jiaoqiu’s voice stopped you.

"I’m glad you’re alive," he said, his voice steady, though laced with a sadness that broke you. "But… I was a mistake." His words came out in a breathless sigh. "I promised to protect you, to take care of you, and now look at me. I’m blind… I can’t do anything for you anymore. I can't even look at you to see if you're alright."

He held his head in his hands, fingers running through his hair in frustration. "If I’m such a mistake… if I’m so ugly in your eyes now…Is that why haven’t you hugged me yet?" His voice cracked on the last few words, a vulnerability in his tone that shook you to your core.

That was all it took to break the dam inside you. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you rushed toward him, wrapping your arms around him from behind. You buried your face into his shoulder, sobbing as you clung to him tightly. "Jiaoqiu… I love you," you cried, your words coming out between broken breaths. "I love you… I always have."

Jiaoqiu froze for a moment, as if stunned by your words, before slowly relaxing into your embrace. His hands reached up to touch yours, holding them gently. Even though he couldn’t see, it felt...connected.

You backed away slowly, your hands slipping from his grasp. The warmth of your touch left him, and Jiaoqiu, sensing the sudden absence, whispered desperately, "Without your touch..." His hand reached out blindly, trying to pull you back toward him, but you stepped farther away.

"No!" you screamed, your voice filled with anguish. "It's because of me you ended up blind!" You held your head in your hands, trembling, overwhelmed by guilt. Every part of you ached, not just from your wounds but from the weight of what you believed you had caused.

"Stop blaming yourself," Jiaoqiu’s voice broke through the air, filled with pain, but there was something firm in his tone. "It’s not your fault."

But his words couldn’t reach you. Your mind was spiraling, consumed by the idea that you had ruined him. "No, no, no," you murmured, rocking slightly as tears streamed down your face. And then, suddenly, an idea formed—a desperate, wild idea. You gasped, clutching your chest.

"Jiaoqiu," you cried out, your voice frantic, almost manic. "There’s still time! You can heal yourself... It's not over yet!" Your eyes widened with a twisted kind of hope. "There's still one more day... one more day before the 20 days are up. I’ll ask Feixiao... I’ll ask her to kill me. If she feeds my soul to you, you’ll live! You’ll be healed... You’ll eat again, see again, heal others again!"

You were smiling now, even as tears continued to flow. The idea seemed like salvation, a way to undo the damage, to give him back everything he had lost. You rambled on, the words spilling out as if they were your last lifeline.

Jiaoqiu remained silent, his face unreadable. His lips parted slightly, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low and cutting. "You really are the goddess of betrayal," he said, almost bitterly, shaking his head. "You’d sacrifice yourself without even asking... And you think I’d accept that?"

You froze, staring at him through tear-blurred eyes, not understanding, not comprehending why he was rejecting your plan. "But... you could be whole again," you whispered, almost pleading. "You could—"

"Is that what you think I want?" Jiaoqiu interrupted, turning his face away from you, his expression distant, filled with sorrow. "What did you see when you decided I would want to devour the person I love...?"

Your voice cracked as you asked, painfully, "Why are you doing this?" The confusion in your eyes was unbearable, but the weight of his words lingered heavily in the air. "What do you mean by calling me the goddess of betrayal? Am I really that…?"

He sighed deeply, his face filled with sorrow, but he stood firm. "Yes," he said quietly, almost like a whisper, "you are… but not in the way you think."

"Stop," you pleaded, shaking your head, unable to bear the truth behind his words. "Please… stop."

But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. "How long are you going to keep betraying yourself?" Jiaoqiu’s voice rose, but it wasn’t out of anger—it was pain. "Your feelings, everything you are… you're betraying it all."

His words struck deep, and you staggered back, trembling. "I'm not… I'm just trying to fix things!" you cried out. But Jiaoqiu’s expression softened into something unbearably sad as he stepped closer to you.

"And if you keep doing this…" he paused, his voice thick with emotion, "you're not just betraying yourself… you’re betraying everyone around you."

He closed the distance between you, and his hand reached for yours, even though he couldn’t see. "Do you really want me to live in agony? To know that the last thing I ever saw was you… in a bloodied, broken version of yourself?"

You couldn’t answer. You felt the weight of his words crushing you.

"I would rather be blind," he continued, his voice now softer, full of a resigned tenderness, "and just listen to you—hear your voice, your heart—than live knowing that you died… for me."

His words shattered you. You choked back a sob, realizing how deeply he felt for you, how much he didn’t want to see you gone. You collapsed, your legs giving out beneath you as tears fell harder than ever. All this time, you had thought sacrificing yourself was the answer, but in his eyes, it was the ultimate betrayal. You hadn’t just betrayed him—you had betrayed the love that still existed between you.

Jiaoqiu knelt beside you, reaching blindly for your trembling form. He pulled you into an embrace, resting his head against yours as you cried into his shoulder. "Please… don't leave me," he whispered, the pain in his voice cutting through every other sound. "I don’t need you to heal me, Y/n… I just need you."

Jiaoqiu, holding you close, felt the weight of your despair. His voice, strained and gentle, broke through the turmoil of your thoughts. "Why do you want to die?" he asked, his hands trembling slightly as they rested on your shoulders. "Tell me."

You sobbed, trying to make sense of the pain and guilt that overwhelmed you. "I killed everyone who trusted me," you cried out. "I couldn't save them. I couldn’t be useful. I couldn't be of any help to anyone."

Jiaoqiu’s grip tightened, his breath hitching as he fought against his own rising anguish. "Stop wanting to die," he pleaded softly. "You deserve to live. More than those who tormented you, more than those who hurt you."

Your cries grew more desperate, your voice raw with emotion. "I'm a mistake. Look at yourself—you're in such a worse state because of me. It's all my fault. I made a mistake, and it’s eating me alive."

Jiaoqiu's expression hardened with determination. "No," he said firmly. "You didn’t do anything wrong. This was my fault, not yours."

He pulled you into a tighter embrace, as if trying to shield you from the weight of your guilt. "You need to understand," he said softly, "if you want to pass away, I will respect that decision. But if there is still a part of you that wants to live…"

He paused, his voice breaking as he leaned in to kiss you. The kiss was tender, full of unspoken promises and shared pain. When he pulled away, his eyes, though blind, seemed to see into the depths of your soul.

"In that case," he whispered, his voice gentle and filled with hope, "will you still consider living? Will you marry me? Let’s have a proper wedding this time. A good one."

Your tears mingled with his, you gently pressed your forehead against his, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin. The intensity of your emotions was palpable, and you took a deep, shuddering breath before speaking.

"Jiaoqiu," you said softly, your voice trembling with emotion, "if you want to get married, you have to let me take care of you. I need to be there for you, to heal you."

His face a mix of pain and tenderness. "But I might be a chore," he replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips despite the gravity of the situation.

You couldn’t help but let out a gentle laugh, a sound filled with both sadness and relief. "We’re both stubborn," you said, your voice breaking slightly as you continued, "neither of us wants to accept help because we don’t want to be a burden. But maybe… that’s why we’re perfect for each other."

You leaned in and kissed him tenderly, your lips brushing against his with a mixture of love and sorrow. As you pulled back, you saw his ears perk up, his expression softening as he took in your words.

"Let me take care of you," you whispered, your voice filled with both resolve and affection. "If you let me, we can get married. Let's heal together..."

Jiaoqiu’s arms wrapped around you, holding you close as you both took in the moment. The weight of your shared struggles seemed to lift slightly as you embraced, the two of you finding solace in each other’s presence.

You nuzzled closer to Jiaoqiu, your voice barely above a whisper but filled with nervous joy. "Am I still your wife?"

A small, tender smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Yes," he replied softly, his voice warm and full of affection.

Overwhelmed, you wrapped your arms around him in a tight embrace, holding him as if you’d never let go. The love you both shared felt even more profound now, having weathered the storm of suffering, and found each other again.

With a newfound determination, you tried to stand up, eager to move forward—quite literally—with him. But your legs, still weak from all you had endured, betrayed you, and you wobbled. Jiaoqiu instinctively reached out to catch you, but with his sight gone, he too lost his balance. Both of you fell, landing in a gentle, tangled heap on the ground.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, you both started to laugh, soft chuckles at first, then louder, more genuine. It was a release, a shared understanding of how far you'd come, even if the path ahead was still fraught with obstacles.

"We have a long time to practice, don’t we?" you said, your voice filled with lightness despite the gravity of the moment.

Jiaoqiu smiled, nodding slightly. "Yes, we do. But we’ll get there."

You leaned forward, a playful glint in your tear-stained eyes. "There’s nothing that would make me happier than helping you. It’s my turn now, Jiaoqiu." Your words held a tenderness, a love that ran deeper than any trial you had faced.

You caught his hand in yours, guiding his fingers through your touch, your warmth. You stood, determination in every step, and turned to face him. "Trust me," you said, your voice steady, full of conviction.

Jiaoqiu hesitated for only a moment, his hand gripping yours a little tighter. Then, he nodded, his trust in you complete, his heart open.

Slowly, you led him forward, his steps unsure at first, but with each movement, you both found a rhythm. There was no rush. The road ahead was long, but you were walking it together. You smiled, knowing that now you had the time—time to heal, time to love, and time to rebuild a future where you could both finally find peace.

Bailu carefully wrapped bandages around you, her gentle touch contrasted with the sharp pain you felt. Each layer was a reminder of your struggles, but also of your resilience. The bandages covered your neck, arms, and feet, a protective cocoon that made you feel both vulnerable and strong.

Once she finished, you donned your kimono, the fabric soft against your bandaged skin, a symbol of renewal and hope. You glanced at Jiaoqiu, who stood beside you, his expression calm but filled with unspoken worries.

"Shall we both seek the road of love we lost sight of?" you asked, your voice steady and inviting.

His lips curled into a small smile, one that filled your heart with warmth. "Sounds like a plan," he replied, his voice laced with determination.

Taking his hand, you guided him gently, your fingers interlocking like a promise. With each step, you could feel the bond between you strengthening, a thread woven from shared pain and healing.

Together, you made your way out of the hospital, stepping into the world that awaited you. The sun greeted you, its light filtering through the trees, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of peace.

You walked side by side, you whispered, "No more shadows, only the path ahead." Jiaoqiu nodded, and you could sense the hope in his heart, echoing your own.

together..

[syndrossi]

Now I REALLY WANT something where Ser Thoren DOES rescue the boys and reunites them with Daemon earlier, largely because I want to see what happens when the Volentenes attempt to kidnap them while they're with their father.

Oooh, that WOULD be spicy, wouldn't it? I imagine the way it plays out initially is:

Ser Thoren brings them back up north to catch a ship to King's Landing.

Allard dispatches his men in search/pursuit of them.

After a week of failed searching (Crayne convinces Allard to keep it on the down low), Allard finally informs Rhea via raven that the boys are missing. She reaches out to Rhaenyra to have a raven sent to Daemon in the Stepstones and sends out ravens throughout the Vale to be on the lookout for the boys. Ser Thoren and the twins set sail from the Fingers.

Rhea rides south to Gulltown chasing a rumor about the boys, accident (or is it?) occurs just before Daemon arrives in Runestone for answers. Ser Thoren and the twins arrive at Dragonstone, as he wants the matter somewhat discreetly handled. Rhaenyra is here, just as in canon, and sends a raven to Runestone.

Daemon confronts Rhea, forces the confession, and this time the raven that reaches him isn't of the boys' kidnapping, but Rhaenyra's that the boys are safe in Dragonstone, which he immediately sets out for.

The big meet happens there, and Daemon and Rhaenyra fly the twins to King's Landing. There is much fanfare, but none of the urgency of Resonant, because the boys were never truly kidnapped. Viserys is pleased that Daemon's a father, but there's no "hand in the hearth" debriefing, so he has no reason to believe the boys are prophecy children. There is no 24/7 knight rotation, and boys are far less traumatized (though Rhaegar is still mourning Rhaella and Rhea) and Jon's not hurt.

Probably a few weeks pass without incident. The boys settle in, Daemon escorts them around the Dragonpit, though without success. (To Rhaegar's utter heartbreak.)

Daemon has no catalyst to set him after Volantis, so he's trying to figure out what to do now that he's a single dad. He also feels fairly safe taking them out into the city.

Meanwhile, the Volantenes + Jephyro are already aware of the new circumstances and have sailed into King's Landing to set up an attempt there...

Here's part one of an innocent outing in the city that may be about to turn into something quite a lot more dangerous...

x~x~x

"What about this one?" Daemon pointed at the clasp that had caught his eye—and clearly Rhaegar's—against the dark velvet that held the jeweler's various works: silver shaped into a dragon curled around a deep red garnet. "Do you have another?"

"Another, my prince?" the man repeated, before comprehension dawned. He looked between Daemon's two sons. "I could fashion a twin to it easily enough."

Daemon stole a glance at Jon to gauge his interest. His other son had proven himself to be less enthused about the finery afforded him in his new station. Allard Royce and whatever passed for clothing in the Vale were partly to blame for that, he presumed.

Jon's gaze was on a different piece, however, that of a silver wolf's head with eyes of smoothly-polished sapphire. It had no relation at all to their own house, better suited to the houses of the southern Crownlands and northern Stormlands who bore wolves upon their crest. But the longing in his face was clear, along with an undercurrent of sorrow.

He does not know to ask, Daemon thought with a familiar simmering anger at the reminder that his sons had spent their childhood being denied all that they were due.

It would not have been his choice, but boys formed all sorts of fascinations, and although wolves were no dragons, they were worthy enough in their own way. "Would you like that one, Jon?" he asked, reaching for the clasp.

He was immediately met with a grey-eyed stare so filled with uncertainty that his own heart ached. "It is a beautiful piece," Daemon said.

"I—" Jon swallowed, gaze returning to the clasp, then flicking up at the jeweler. "Could you change the eyes?"

The jeweler, sensing a sale, smiled encouragingly. "Easily enough. What suits your fancy, young prince? I have some emerald stones that could be fitted."

"What about the red stone in the dragon clasp? Do you have more of it?"

"The garnet? I do. I also have ruby, should that be more to your preference." The jeweler disappeared into his work room, emerging after a moment with a small cloth of both garnet and ruby gems, some rough and others worked, that he laid out on the table.

Jon looked between them. He seemed drawn at first to the ruby, touching a finger to it, but his mouth firmed with decision as he pulled back. "The garnet." He glanced at his brother. "So that we match."

"I shall have the modifications completed by tomorrow," the man said with a bow, before turning his gaze back to Daemon. "Is there anything else that you seek, my prince?"

"I have been told you have experience working with dragon scales."

The jeweler's expression brightened, this time with interest. "I do. I have done work for Princess Rhaenyra, and even Queen Alysanne herself, many years back."

His sons watched him with nearly identical expressions of curiosity as Daemon withdrew a thick red scale from his pouch, partly split by a glancing blow from one of the Triarchy's small ballistae that they lugged onto the shores of the Stepstones in hopes of a lucky shot before their inevitable destruction by dragonflame.

"What can you make of this?"

The jeweler took the scale from him with a hushed reverence, examining it from various angles. "I can shape it into smaller pieces and fashion a fetching pendant. Several, even. A gold setting would be striking, or--" He glanced at their silver-and-garnet selections. "Or silver, if that is more to your liking. If my prince cares to return in half an hour, I can make some sketches for your review for the pendant itself."

"Can you design one of a dragon's head?" Rhaegar asked. His look at Daemon held an uncertainty not unlike Jon's earlier. "We could have one apiece."

"The three heads of the dragon?" Daemon kissed the two heads within reach. "That feels fitting to me."

"I shall focus my efforts on dragon designs, then," the jeweler said with another bow, and Daemon could not tell if his enthusiasm was from the opportunity to work with such a rare material, or the growing purse he anticipated receiving.

Even if Viserys weren't cheered enough by his return and meeting his sons to see it paid directly from the royal treasury, Daemon had spent very little of his own allowance these past few years. There were scant opportunities in the wastes of the Stepstones.

It was getting past midday, long enough since breakfast for hunger to make itself known in the growling stomachs of growing boys. The taverns at the base of Aegon’s Hill catered to visiting nobles and rich merchants of the area, their fare a good deal finer than would be found just a few roads further south, near the harbor.

A royal visitor was not uncommon in these parts, though it still afforded them a quiet table away from the small pocket of knights well on their way to a drunken stupor not even halfway through the day. He would have numbered among them once, Daemon mused. Not the knight part, of course. But he had drunk his way through most of the taverns in the city in his youth, often dragging Viserys along. His brother had been a more exuberant drunk then, prone to wild capers he would not otherwise consider when sober.

I wonder if he might consider stealing away some night. Even a king could wear a cloak, and if any tavernkeep were to notice, he would wisely pretend otherwise. It would do him good to remember life outside those walls.

And it would scandalize Otto Hightower, which was reason enough in itself.

Daemon turned his attention back to the twins, both of whom seemed comfortable enough in the tavern, though he imagined they would not have seen one growing up isolated in the Gates of the Moon. “I take it Ser Thoren brought you to a few inns along the way,” he said.

“Only a few,” Jon said. “On the road north through the Vale.”

A carafe of wine was brought to the table, along with bread fresh enough from the oven to be steaming. Slices of cold meat and cheese were brought out soon after. Daemon limited himself to a single cup, and let each of his sons try a sip, taking in their mutual nose crinkles at the taste with fond amusement that turned faintly bittersweet. There were many expressions he had still to learn, to discover which emphasized their similarities and which their differences.

Each delighted him, though he had a special fondness for when they mirrored one another. It spoke to an extra bond between them that comforted him somehow.

A special treat of warm, gooey raspberries served in a bowl with a generous heaping of cold cream atop it had been sent to their table, and both his sons had eagerly devoured theirs before turning faintly envious eyes to Daemon’s own half-eaten portion.

“Is there anything else you would like to see before we return to the jeweler, and then the keep?” he asked once they had finished off his dessert.

[rainhadaenerys]

People in this fandom will constantly complain that Dany "never shuts up about her long list of names and titles". So I decided to actually count the times Dany does this. I searched for "Stormborn" in a Search of Ice and Fire, so it's possible that there's one or two instances missing if that word isn't included, but probably not a lot. In this post, I'm not including instances of a herald saying Dany's titles before a former introduction like an audience or a party (because that isn't an instance of Dany "not shutting up about her titles", that's Dany following the etiquette rules of her world). I'm also not including when other people say Dany's titles spontaneously, without Dany's command. So here are the instances of Dany herself talking about her titles to other people:

The Dothraki exchanged uncertain glances. "Khaleesi," the handmaid Irri explained, as if to a child, "Jhaqo is a khal now, with twenty thousand riders at his back." She lifted her head. "And I am Daenerys Stormborn, Daenerys of House Targaryen, of the blood of Aegon the Conqueror and Maegor the Cruel and old Valyria before them. I am the dragon's daughter, and I swear to you, these men will die screaming. Now bring me to Khal Drogo." - Daenerys IX AGOT

~

ons . . . dragons . . . other voices echoed in the gloom. Some were male and some female. One spoke with the timbre of a child. The floating heart pulsed from dimness to darkness. It was hard to summon the will to speak, to recall the words she had practiced so assiduously. "I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros." Do they hear me? Why don't they move? She sat, folding her hands in her lap. "Grant me your counsel, and speak to me with the wisdom of those who have conquered death." - Daenerys IV ACOK

~

"You require passage for a hundred Dothraki, all their horses, yourself and this knight, and three dragons?" said the captain of the great cog Ardent Friend before he walked away laughing. When she told a Lyseni on the Trumpeteer that she was Daenerys Stormborn, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, he gave her a deadface look and said, "Aye, and I'm Lord Tywin Lannister and shit gold every night." - Daenerys V ACOK

~

"The corsair wanted only a hundred, your worship," Dany heard the slave girl say. He poked her with the end of the whip. "Consairs are all liars. He'll buy them all. Tell her that, girl." Dany knew she would take more than a hundred, if she took any at all. "Remind your Good Master of who I am. Remind him that I am Daenerys Stormborn, Mother of Dragons, the Unburnt, trueborn queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. My blood is the blood of Aegon the Conqueror, and of old Valyria before him." - Daenerys II ASOS

~

"Woman, you bray like an ass, and make no more sense." "Woman?" She chuckled. "Is that meant to insult me? I would return the slap, if I took you for a man." Dany met his stare. "I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the Unburnt, Mother of Dragons, khaleesi to Drogo's riders, and queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros." - Daenerys IV ASOS

And that's it. In the four books Dany appears, she says her titles to other people five times. In two of these times (Dany IX AGOT and Dany IV ASOS), Dany uses her titles to sound more intimidating against her opponents (Khal Jhaqo and the slaver envoy). Twice, she uses her titles as a way to try and convince people to let her buy something (the Unsullied in Astapor and the passage to Westeros), which makes sense, given that she is trying to convince others that she has power/money/influence, so it makes sense to try using her titles. And then there's the one time in the House of the Undying in which she uses her titles as a proper introduction that she was instructed to practice and say when she met the Undying. None of these moments are about Dany being overly prideful or arrogant. For a fandom that keeps complaining about Dany "never shutting up" about her titles, she doesn't say them all that much.

[seineko]

diluc ragnvindr x reader

warnings: none, just fluff, diluc just raising my standards higher by the second.

happy birthday, mr husband. thank you for making me simp so hard that i can't even concentrate on studying for my semester exams tomorrow. WHAT IS THAT BIRTHDAY ART?! IT'S ILLEGAL.

the whole of mondstadt witnessed how their uncrowned king fell in love.

for them, it was like watching a romance movie, seeing how the main character slowly changed, bit by bit.

at first, the glance that was directed at you was of indifference, diluc just noting what drink you wanted as you stuttered it out from beside lisa, pushing your drink towards you before tending to another customer.

then was the look that showed acknowledgement when lisa introduced you as a junior from sumeru, who came to mondstadt to work under her. all he did was nod, sparing you a glance. nothing more, nothing less.

the next change in the way he looked towards you was something a lot of people noticed, but only one witnessed. the way he looked and acknowledged you with respect everytime you passed him, giving a small nod whenever your gazes met. the reason will always remain a mystery to the people of the city of freedom.

not to a certain cat allergic archon, though. he did not mean to pry, but who in their right mind would ignore a scene that played straight out of a novel when you happened to stumble upon it? not him, definitely.

so he watched, slowly sipping from his bottle as you patched the cat that diluc was holding, eyes blown wide with panic but hands as steady a mountain. he did not know what happened before, but it wasn't hard to guess.

though, even the bard wasn't so nosy as to look on when diluc's gaze shifted from the cat to you.

the change from respect to adoration was gradual, but not subtle by any means.

the more the time the two of you spent together, the stronger the gaze grew. it still held the respect from before, but the adoration just settled in alongside it, never to leave.

it was kaeya who got to witness the addition of absolute tenderness in his brother's eyes. he was heading back towards his quarters after a stroll with sister rosaria, that's when he noticed you both, lost in each other's embrace. so much so that even as a drunkard passed you, loudly singing, neither of you even showed a sign of breaking the hug.

the tenderness directed towards you when the hug finally broke sent kaeya back to his childhood, when his big brother had almost the same look but directed towards him. that was when he knew that the dark knight hero did not have any plans to let you go.

affection that made it's way into the eyes of the eldest son of ragnvindr was what adelinde noticed first.

the night was cold, strong winds and heavy rain hit mondstadt. she was waiting for the winery's master to come back, towel ready in hand.

soon enough, he did return but with his hand clutching onto a figure behind him, both panting heavily as their clothes dripped the water down onto the carpet.

ever the gentleman, diluc thanked her politely before grabbing the towel from her hands and leading you towards the fireplace, making you sit in front of it while drying your hair with the towel in his hands.

the head maid was about to leave but the look in her young master's eyes made her feet freeze to the ground, heart fluttering as she witnessed them shine after almost 4 years.

adelinde hoped with all her heart that you would never leave the red haired man behind before she strolled back to her bedroom.

the love that spread into his gaze was for only you to witness.

love that sent your head reeling as soon you your eyes fluttered open, still in his embrace as he slowly cupped your cheek. the small, soft smile that settled onto his face was enough to send your heart into a rampage, feeling both as if you're drowning but also as if the you took a breath of the most fresh air this world possibly had to offer, simultaneously.

the chuckle that left him when you cuddled into his embrace, hiding your face in his chest, did not make it any better.

your situation only worsened when he pressed a sweet kiss onto your head and pulled you closer, whispering;

'wish i could stay like this forever.'

this man was a hazard to your heart.

©2023 by seineko @ tumblr

[wholoveseggs]

Indulgences

18+ ---- {Masterlist}

Part Three

As your relationship with Elijah deepens, conflict arises and you are put in an impossible situation.

5.5k words - Warnings: smutttt, red door elijah {my interpretation of him}, drug use, adult themes, domestic abuse, violence, blood drinking.

Please be aware that this part is very violent. {Part One} {Part Two} {Part Four}{Moodboard->}

Elijah kept coming back, week after week, booking the platinum suite and requesting you. Every time you entered the suite and locked eyes with him your memories came flooding back in an instant. He would lay his head in your lap and tell you his heartaches while you stroked his dark hair. You learned how he was robbed of his life a thousand years ago, and how much guilt he carries in his heart. He would speak of his family with equal love and frustration, his world tipping further into turmoil with every passing day.

You admired his heart, his humanity, his fearlessness in facing his darkness. Sometimes, on rare occasions, his vulnerability would peek through and he would confide in you about his need for control and his fear of losing it. And sometimes, even more rarely, his heart would bleed for those he had killed and will kill. They were moments of weakness that he only let you see.

You began to care for him, truly care for him, past being his private dancer, past him being your cash cow. They were times when his perfect mask slipped just a little, showing a more fragile side of him, one you knew he had carefully crafted and honed to perfection. These moments revealed to you just how human he still was, despite having spent the past one thousand years as a vampire.

One night, as you gently traced your fingers through his dark hair while he rested his head on your lap, you softly asked, "Why did you choose me?”

Elijah, his gaze fixed on the opposite wall, murmured, "The way you looked at me... there was something about your eyes, they were so..."

"What?" you whispered, the intimate moment creating a tightness in your chest.

"Alive," he whispered back. "You looked at me as if you could see straight through my mask to the inner demon beyond and didn't care."

"I do see straight through you," you teased.

Elijah smirked, then averted his eyes. It was painfully evident to anyone who met him that beneath the facade of a perfect gentleman in tailored suits, a dark turmoil simmered within him, a side he struggled to keep subdued.

He sat up and ran his hands through his hair, as though trying to compose himself, and returned his gaze to yours.

"Do you like this job? Does it make you happy?" he asked curiously.

"Not happy, but it helps me survive." You replied honestly.

"If there was a way for you to never have to do this job again, would you take it?" Elijah asked seriously, studying you intently.

"It's complicated, this is my only way to earn money and stay afloat, I can't imagine life without it," you explained, a bit confused by his line of questions.

"If you had a choice," Elijah started, leaning in closer.

You sighed, borderline amused by how cliche he was being. It must have shown on your face because the side of Elijah's mouth twitched, and he continued.

"Would you want to leave with me, leave all of this, escape to a better place?" His question made your stomach lurch, and you sat up straighter, heart pounding. You weren't a fool; you had heard this offer from a few clients before. They all craved the fantasy of having a stripper for a girlfriend while playing the white knight, rescuing her from what they deemed a shameful profession. As you stared at Elijah for a long moment, sizing him up and searching his eyes, you realized he was different. Unlike the other men who made similar offers, Elijah possessed the power to fulfill his proposition—a considerable amount of power, so much that it left you feeling unsettled.

"I'd say take me to your kingdom," you jested, wearing a playful expression, not revealing any clear intention to go with him. 

He gave you a searching look and leaned towards you, hands on either side of your hips, pinning you to the couch. "Say the word, and we leave this instant," he murmured, a conspiratorial glint in his eyes.

"I'm not a fantasy, handsome. I'm a person with a life outside of this place, one you know nothing about," you remarked quietly.

"Then tell me," Elijah asked, the atmosphere around you intensifying, his gaze transforming into a look that pinned you down in more ways than one.

Running your fingers through your hair, you chewed the inside of your cheek, torn about whether revealing the truth would shift the power balance. The mysterious allure you carefully maintained gave you control over clients, resulting in higher tips. However, a part of you hesitated, not wanting Elijah to view you solely as a mystery. You longed for him to see the real you—a human with flaws and struggles like everyone else—rather than getting entangled in the fantasy of you.

"I'd rather not," you said firmly.

"Do you have terrible dark secrets?" He teased light heartedly, not daring to take his eyes away from yours.

"This," you said, gesturing around the room, "is not about me,"

You resisted this glimmer of hope, this tempting fantasy. Reality held you captive, you had troubles and responsibilities that hadn't magically disappeared just because Elijah walked in and requested to see you specifically.

"I disagree," he said gently, cupping your chin, turning your face to meet his. "It's very much about you. I would have never returned to this place if you weren't here,"

You blinked back the stinging feeling behind your eyes, and reached out and grabbed his tie, pulling him close so you were face to face.

"Exactly darling, it's all about you," you murmured, brushing your lips against his.

"That's not what I meant," Elijah whispered, but let you deepen the kiss regardless.

"Isn't it though?" you teased, sliding out from under him, standing up.

"This is where our night comes to an end, handsome," you announced, extending your hand out to him.

He grasped your outstretched hand, his dark brown eyes focused on you, and pulled you down until you were straddling him. You let out a soft gasp of surprise, your hands automatically resting on his chest.

"One more kiss," Elijah murmured, his voice muffled as he nuzzled your neck.

You gave a low laugh, tilting your head back, exposing your neck to him. You could feel his breath on your skin, warm and even, sending a thrill through your whole body. You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the sensation of his touch.

His hands traveled up your thighs, until they reached your hips, his thumbs hooking under the straps of your g-string. The heat from his fingers caused a blush to rise on your cheeks and your heart to beat faster.

"May I touch you?" Elijah asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath hitched in your throat, your body tensing at the thought of him being intimate with you. This wasn't allowed, Mitch would fire you on the spot. No sleeping with clients. It was his number one rule. Mostly because the club would lose its license.

But you didn't care about any of that, all that mattered was Elijah. You wanted him to touch you, to bring you pleasure. You wanted him to take you away from the pain and sadness, if only for a little while. You swallowed thickly and nodded your head in consent.

Elijah's eyes darkened with lust, his hand sliding between your legs, fingers grazing your damp panties. You bit back a moan, your hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. He continued his gentle teasing, his fingers rubbing circles against your clit, watching your responses.

"You are so lovely," he murmured, kissing your neck.

You whimpered softly, arching your back, pushing your breasts against his chest. You wanted more, needed more. You wanted him to make you forget everything except his touch.

He dipped two fingers into your aching core, a breathy moan escaping your lips. You clenched around him, your head swimming with desire. He moved his fingers in and out of you, curling them ever so slightly. He brought his thumb up and traced small circles against your clit. You gasped, your eyes fluttering closed, your climax swiftly approaching.

"That's it, beautiful," Elijah whispered, nipping at your ear.

You came undone, the tension in your body melting away, your hips bucking against his hand. You felt a sharp pain in your neck as he sunk his fangs into your skin. Your legs trembled as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you, your breathing ragged, your skin slick with sweat. He continued to stroke you, his movements drawing out your orgasm until you were a trembling mess.

He let out a low groan, pulling his mouth away from your neck, blood smeared on his lips. His eyes were completely black, dark veins snaking down his cheeks.

You gently ran your fingertips over his cheeks, marveling at the creature that lurked beneath the mask of a gentleman. He was breathtakingly beautiful and terrifyingly deadly. Your touch was enough to calm him and his features returned to their human appearance.

He pulled his fingers from you and brought them to his mouth, licking away your arousal with a predatory growl.

You giggled and leaned in, brushing your lips against his. His hands rested on your hips, his grip tightening. He returned the kiss, a sweet yet heated one that took your breath away.

"We shouldn't have done that," you whispered, a faint blush creeping up your cheeks.

"Why not? Did you not enjoy yourself?" Elijah questioned, his eyes full of concern.

"No, no it's not that, I...I mean, we're not allowed to have sex with the clients," you confessed, embarrassed by your admission.

"Do you still see me as just a client?" He asked with a raised brow.

"No, but Mitch will. I'll lose my job." You mumbled, biting your bottom lip.

He ran his fingers through your hair and cupped your chin, his eyes boring into yours. "Then come with me," he murmured, his lips ghosting against yours.

You closed your eyes and rested your forehead against his, taking a deep breath. You wanted to say yes, you really did, but the reality was still there. He kisses you again, gently biting on his lip, the taste of his blood making your skin tingle. You felt the sting of the bite mark on your neck fade, and you pulled back. His fingers traced the area where the wound was, his eyes slightly far away.

"I’m sorry," he murmured, his brow furrowing in concern.

"Why?" You asked, your heart skipping a beat.

"I didn't ask for your permission," he explained, his jaw clenched.

You placed your palm on his chest, feeling his heart beating beneath your fingers, soothing the storm inside of him. "It's fine," you reassured him.

His expression softened and he smiled at you, the love and affection in his gaze filling you with warmth. You never had anyone look at you like that before and you found yourself wishing that the moment would never end, but reality set in.

"Time to go, darling." He said quietly, his breath fanning over your face. "You won't remember this until you see me again,"

You kissed him one last time and rose off his lap, swaying on your heels. You could feel his eyes on you as you stretched lazily, earning his appreciation.

"Have a good night, handsome." you murmured, teasingly blowing him a kiss as you strutted out the door.

You sat in the dressing room, looking down at the stack of hundreds on your lap. Once again confused on how you made that much. You couldn't remember a single detail of your time with the wealthy client in the platinum suite, it unnerved you. You wondered if the molly was strong enough to block out your memory and leave you totally empty.

"I hope your not fucking suit guy," Stacy remarked, walking by your chair, admiring herself in the mirror, a dark purple silk robe draped loosely around her body.

"I'm not." You assured her, shoving the hundred dollar bills back into your bag.

"You better not be, Mitch would fire you so fast, not to mention Jordan would be devastated," she remarked, a smirk on her face.

"I don't do that," you repeated, watching her change her attitude.

"There's an exception to every rule," Stacy remarked, pursing her red stained lips and applying another coat of lipstick.

"I'm not a cheater. Elijah is just a wealthy client who likes to talk, you know the type," you said with a shrug.

"Elijah," Stacy echoed, laughing. "You're on a first name basis with him? God, you might as well be fucking him," she taunted, raising her brows at you.

"Fuck off, Stacy," you snapped, glowering at her, refusing to let her get a rise out of you.

Jordan walked in, his usual friendly expression on his face, an extra spark in his eyes, and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close. He pressed his lips to your cheek in greeting.

"How's my baby?" he asked cheerfully.

"Good," you mumbled, quickly moving your bag out of sight.

"Hiii Jordy," Stacy sang, batting her eyelashes at him.

He flashed her a quick grin before turning his attention back to you. You could feel the knot in your stomach slowly untying itself, he was in a good mood today.

"Let's go get dinner, I know this great bar near here," Jordan said eagerly, his hands cupping your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks.

You gave a half hearted smile, nodding your head. You would rather go home to a quiet apartment but you knew better than to spoil his mood with your defiance.

"Sounds fun," you murmured, forcing a smile.

Jordan and you walked out of the club, his arm wrapped around your shoulder. He glanced down at you, his face still carrying a smile, but his eyes holding a warning.

"You okay baby?" He asked.

"Tired," you replied simply, hoping it would be enough to explain your earlier behavior. "Is it okay if we just go home?"

"No! It's Friday, and I need time with my girl," he practically whined, as he guided you to his car.

Your heart sank at the tone in his voice, knowing very well he wouldn't take no for an answer. It was a game he played to get you to do what he wanted and give him an excuse to fight later, usually for being stubborn or a stuck up bitch.

"My shift was so long," you mumbled.

He shoved you into the passengers seat, closing the door before you could reach the handle. He got into the drivers side and turned the key, a sly smirk on his face. He grabbed your wrist, squeezing it tightly, his nails biting into your skin, he leaned in, his lips next to your ear.

"Why is it so hard to please you baby?" he whispered, his tone seething.

You stared at him, keeping your face neutral, dread churning in your stomach. You could feel the bruises beginning to form on your wrist, his anger slowly rising. He squeezed even tighter and you winced, a strangled cry leaving your lips. He let go of your wrist and slipped his hand between your legs, inching his fingers to your mound, squeezing roughly.

"This belongs to me, baby. How many times do I have to remind you that you're mine?" Jordan sneered, tightening his hold on you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, tears burning behind your eyes, and looked away, trying to detach yourself from the situation.

"You're right, I'm sorry," you murmured, shrinking away from him.

"Damn straight," he said, releasing his grip on you and turning his attention to the road, "Dinner and drinks at Rousseaus, you’ll love it."

You gave a stiff nod, trying to ignore the fear and anger in your heart.

Rousseau's was more crowded than you expected, but you both managed to find a table. You sat and waited while Jordan got drinks.

Other men always looked at you, wherever you went, it always made you uncomfortable. Especially so when you were with Jordan, his jealousy could cause an explosion at any moment. You wished he hadn't insisted on coming to the bar tonight, there was a feeling in your gut that told you something was going to go wrong.

When he returned with the drinks his mood had dramatically shifted, his eyes darting around the room as he slid into his seat next to you.

You picked at your finger nails, chipping away at the paint, and scooted your chair a few inches away from his. You could feel his eyes on you, seething with jealousy, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white.

"Maybe we should go," you suggested, shooting him a wary look.

"We just got here and I ain't done drinking," he replied, placing his hand on your knee, caressing your skin with his fingertips.

"Okay," you said in a small voice, lifting your eyes to meet his gaze.

He brought his hand up to your face, lightly brushing the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone. You could tell by the look in his eyes that something wasn't right.

"Stacy was telling me something very interesting about you," he whispered, his voice dripping with suspicion.

"Oh?" You asked, feigning innocence, heart beginning to race.

"Yeah," Jordan mused, gently tracing a pattern on your skin. "She told me how you kept having one on ones in the platinum suite. Absolutely raking in the tips. Does that sound like something you're familiar with?" His words were soft, but his voice was harsh.

Your stomach dropped at his question, realizing what he was getting at. You stared back at him blankly, trying to formulate a response. You thought about lying to him, you were a good liar, you did it everyday of your life. Jordan was visibly seething, but he wouldn't do anything to you in public, so you kept your guard up just in case.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about, babe," you said in the sweetest, yet most patronizing tone, grabbing his hand in yours, squeezing it reassuringly.

He narrowed his eyes at you and took another sip of his drink. Your stomach turned, you knew he wasn't finished, this was far from over.

"If I find out you're lying to me," he started, his voice menacing. "I'll kill you."

The color drained from your face, fear coursing through your veins. You wanted to bolt out the door, run for your life, anything to get away from him, but you didn't. You looked away from his terrifying eyes, holding back the tears that were threatening to spill.

That's when you saw him, sitting near the window, watching you intently. Elijah.

The reality of his existence hit you like a swift blow. He was a vampire. He had bared his heart and soul to you. Just hours ago, you had been in his embrace, experiencing pleasure as he fed off you. Then he would erase the memory from your mind, leaving you oblivious to what he truly was. He offered you a knowing smile, his dark eyes piercing into yours. Your cheeks flushed red as you looked away. Despite everything, a part of you yearned to run to him, to forget about the monster lurking beside you.

"Excuse me for a second," you whispered, letting go of Jordan’s hand and sliding your seat back.

"Where the fuck are you going?" Jordan snapped, his grip on your knee tightening, his fingers digging painfully into your skin.

"Just the bathroom," you muttered, struggling to keep your composure.

He gave you a steely look, before releasing your knee. You gathered your purse and rose to your feet and without glancing back at him, headed for the bathroom.

You felt Elijah's presence behind you when you got to the hallway. Fear churned inside you like a whirlpool, as you turned to face him, not completely sure what you would say to him.

"It's not a good time for a talk," you said in a low voice, opening the door to the ladies room, hoping Elijah would get the hint.

"You seem distressed," he said quietly, concern clear in his voice.

"Come in, you can't be out here with me," you whispered, tugging on his hand, pulling him into the bathroom.

You checked to make sure the coast was clear and locked the door, feeling Elijah's eyes following you.

"Is that your boyfriend?" He teased in a gentle tone, clasping his hands in front of him, subtly checking you out.

"Yes," you said softly, leaning against the counter, staring down at the floor.

"Is he why you won't run away with me?," Elijah asked, taking a tentative step towards you.

You felt the knot in your stomach tighten, as he placed his hands on the counter, boxing you in between him and the sink.

"Among other things," you replied evasively, tilting your head up, your gaze resting on his.

"Name one of them," he purred, bringing his hand up to your hair, twirling a stray strand around his finger.

"You've messed with my memories, Elijah. When I'm not around you, I don't remember our time together; I’m frightened of you," you admitted, your body stiffening. "I blame it on the drugs I take, I get anxious about my mental health," you trailed off, feeling shame rising in your throat.  "But then I'm with you and..I feel calm, I feel safe, like you'd protect me. And, it scares me, this emotional whiplash is taking its toll,”

"I'm sorry for frightening you, that wasn't my intention," he said gently, his hands lifting to rest on your hips, gently lifting you onto the counter.

"Everything is... complicated, Elijah," you murmured, running your fingers through your hair, trying to muster an answer.

"I know," he murmured, leaning in and kissing your neck, causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin. “I won't compel you anymore, my dear, I trust you,”

You closed your eyes, inhaling his wonderful scent, it made your stomach flutter with butterflies. This didn't feel real, you hadn't felt this happy in so long, it was surreal.

Your hands went to his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath your palms, and his lips met yours. The kiss was soft, affectionate, and full of meaning. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, never wanting to let go.

"You don't love him do you?," Elijah whispered in your ear, trailing his finger down your jaw.

"No," You breathed, shaking your head, grasping the lapels of his suit. "I couldn't, I try, I have for years, but I just can't,"

He hummed his agreement and kissed you with more passion than you'd experienced with any man before. You could feel his desire, his urgency, and you craved him. Your fingers buried themselves in his hair, letting out a soft gasp when his hands slipped under your dress, gently kneading your thighs.

"No, we can't, not with Jordan here," you rasped, reluctantly pushing his hands away. "Please don't. If he suspects something..." You whispered, trailing off, swallowing hard.

Elijah glanced down at your hands on his chest, his brow furrowing as he noticed your bruised and swollen wrist.

"You're hurt," he observed, examining the marks on your skin, his expression a strange mixture of anger and concern.

"It's fine," You reassured him, trying to pull away from his grip, "just forget about it. Really, I'm ok,"

"He hurt you," Elijah insisted, frowning.

"I had an attitude with him," You mumbled, yanking your arm back, and cradling your wrist in your lap, and nervously twisting the hem of your dress in your fingers.

"Y/n," he said softly. "This isn't the first time he's hurt you is it?"

You looked up at him through tear filled eyes, your mask of composure finally slipping.

"No," you said in a small voice.

"How long has he done this to you?" He asked in a low voice, cupping your face in his palms.

"Years," you choked, no longer able to hold in your emotions, tears trickling down your face. You felt such pure humiliation, embarrassment that Elijah had seen such weakness in you.

"I have to go," you stammered, rubbing your eyes and sniffling.

"You don't have to leave," Elijah insisted, bringing your face up to look at him. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

You froze at his question, wondering what kind of answer he wanted.

"It ruins the fantasy," you said with a dry laugh, trying to brush it off as some stupid joke.

Elijah furrowed his brow at you, looking shocked at your response.

"Do you think I judge you? See you as just a stripper?" He asked earnestly, all of his usual confidence dissipating.

You shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak, but not daring to lie to him, watching him through watery eyes.

"I told you about my life, my father, the torment he put my family through, how could I judge you?," Elijah asked, lowering his face to yours, our lips inches apart, his scent flooding your senses.

"I don't know," you whispered, keeping your gaze fixed on his, savoring his kindness.

"We'll get through this," Elijah whispered in your ear. "Together."

"I have to go," you whispered, before the weight of what he said could sink in.

"Walk out with me, you never have to be near him again," Elijah begged.

"No, please, it'll make everything worse," You pleaded, sliding off the counter. "Don't give me hope, I can't handle hope."

"Y/n," Elijah began, sounding exasperated.

"I'll see you at the club, okay? Goodbye." you said quietly, before he could protest anymore, leaving the bathroom.

Tears filled your eyes as you walked through the bar, taking slow deep breaths to calm yourself. Jordan was still sitting at the table, looking extremely impatient. You tried to ignore the unsettling feeling in your gut as you sat down. He swirled the liquid in his glass, his expression blank. 

"Took you long enough, what were you doing in there?" Jordan sneered, pinning you with his icy glare.

You could now remember everything about Elijah, how he made you feel, all those hours together in the platinum suite. Everything. And now here, looking at Jordan, your abuser, the man who took so much from you, was such a contrast that it was almost unbearable. You were revolted by his very presence.

"I just needed a moment to myself, you know? After what you said about killing me," You forced a tight smile, taking a sip of your cocktail, your throat had never been drier.

Jordan scoffed, his features darkening with annoyance. "Let's go, this bar fucking sucks," he snarled, slamming his empty glass down on the table, rose to his feet and swiped his keys off the table.

You took the last sip of your drink and reached into your purse, pulling out your wallet. You felt his hand rest on your arm, you were almost paralyzed with fear.

"What the fuck is that?" Jordan snarled, looking at the tips you earned from Elijah earlier.

You swallowed thickly, completely taken aback, you had no idea what to do.

"I... I got a bonus today," you said in a feeble tone.

Jordan stared down at the money, completely enraged. "Stacy was right wasn't she? You've been fucking that rich asshole," he whispered, his fist closing around your arm, dragging you to your feet.

He quickly guided you through the crowd and outside the bar, pulling you towards the nearby alley. Your mind reeled with panic, realizing what was happening. Your legs no longer functioned as he dragged you behind the building.

"Baby, let's go back inside, I don't understand what's going on," you pleaded, trying to regain composure.

"I asked you a question. Tell me," Jordan growled, his fingertips dug into your arm painfully.

"It was a bonus," you snapped.

His fist connected with your face in a sudden and violent burst of rage. The impact was so intense it dazed you, the air being knocked out of your lungs as you tried to keep your footing.

"I know you're fucking some gangster and keeping all the tips for yourself," he shouted, his hands wrapping around your throat, forcing you against the wall.

Your hands scrambled for his, trying to pry his fingers off, his grip squeezing tighter as the lack of air made your vision blur.

"I asked you nicely and you have the nerve to fucking lie to me? That just shows me that you don't love me at all," he yelled, rage boiling in his veins, his grip nearly crushing your windpipe.

"Please..." you whispered, through ragged gasps for breath.

"I've done nothing but take care of you since we met and this is how you repay me?" He shouted, his grip tightening even more, your entire body struggling to get oxygen, tears pricking at the back of your eyes.

You brought your knee up as hard as you could to his groin. Jordan groaned and doubled over, loosening his grip enough to allow you to wrench yourself free.

You began to run in the direction of the street, wanting to get as far away from him as possible. But he caught up, grabbing your hair and forcing you to the ground. You cried out in pain as he landed on top of you, his hands roaming all over your body as he held you down, squeezing every inch of skin he could grab.

"Shh, shh, don't scream baby, don't scream," he hushed you, slapping his hand over your mouth. "It's okay I forgive you."

"Get off of me!" You cried, as he frantically tugged on your dress. He didn't waste another second, gripping your jaw tightly, his fingers digging in painfully.

"You think I'd let you cheat on me and get away with it?" Jordan gritted out, his hands wrapping around your throat again, increasing the pressure. Your screams were only barely audible now, your vision starting to fade, everything slowly turning black. 

Suddenly there was no weight on your chest. You gasped for air, taking desperate shallow breaths, looking up at Elijah who was pinning Jordan to the wall by the throat. Elijah's eyes were completely black, gray veins stretched out under his eyes.

"Do you know what it feels like to be unable to breathe?" He growled, his grip tightening, Jordan's face turning a ghastly shade of blue. "The fear, the terror that overwhelms your body. To know that no matter how hard you fight, you're going to die?"

Jordan's eyes bulged in fear, his hands clutching at his throat, trying to get away.

"You were going to kill her, weren't you?" Elijah seethed, his voice trembling with rage.

"Please... I'm sorry," Jordan wheezed, his voice barely audible.

"She begged for mercy and you ignored her, why should I show you the same courtesy?" Elijah asked, in an eerily calm tone.

Jordan's eyes widened as he struggled against Elijah, desperately trying to loosen the vampire's grip.

"Cockroach," he snarled, his fingers curling tighter around his neck, lifting him up, Jordan's feet no longer touching the ground. "Be still."

"No... no," Jordan squealed pathetically, "what are you?"

Elijah pulled Jordan's face close to his, Jordan's limbs thrashing at his sides, trying to pry away the iron grip on his neck. Elijah gave him a sinister smile, his fangs gleaming in the dim light.

"Death," Elijah whispered, before swiftly snapping his neck.

The blood drained from your face, your head spinning, everything feeling as if it was happening in slow motion. His body fell to the ground with a heavy thud, an unnatural twist to his neck, Jordan's life no longer there.

You felt your heart stop, like someone had thrust a knife through your chest, you almost couldn't breathe. He was dead. Gone. A part of you was happy, euphoric even, he would never touch you again, hit you again, torture you any more. You never felt any pleasure when you were with him, the man was your prison, he had no redeeming qualities and yet, the scars still remained.

Elijah knelt in front of you, pulling off his suit jacket and draping it across your shoulders. Your hands were numb as they slipped through the holes, holding it shut in the front.

"We can't leave him like that," you whispered, staring at Jordan's body, slumped against the brick.

"I'll handle it," Elijah murmured. "Can you stand?"

You nodded, rising on unsteady feet, grateful when he wrapped his arms around you, supporting you as you stumbled. He picked you up bridal style and carried you to his car, quickly setting you down in the passenger seat.

"Do you wish for me to take you home?" Elijah asked gently, seeing that you'd retreated inside of yourself, staring into the distance.

"No." you said hoarsely, resting your head against the glass.

He didn't seem surprised, opening the door, slipping inside and starting the car. His hand rested on your knee, drawing lazy circles on the bare skin, the effect was soothing and you closed your eyes, taking slow steady breaths.

"My home it is, then.”

{Part One} {Part Two} {Part Four}{Moodboard->}

PS: There will be a part four -xo

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