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imfoive · 3 months ago

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Crystal Bird - Chapter 4

Crown Prince! Chan x Princess (fem.) Genre: Royal au! Angst, Romance, Historical, hidden identity, slow-burn Warnings: mentions of blood, war, death, cursing, parental abuse, somewhat proofread WC: 6.8k A/N: no cause I actually got mad at myself for this chapter 😭 Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The Crown Prince is saved by the Princess of a rival kingdom, and he swears his second life to his savior. A forbidden friendship no one knew of, grows deeper with every secret meeting. As the two are kept apart, memories of their sunset playdates by the serene river, begin blossoming into something beautiful. Cheeks blushed, stomach butterflies fluttered at the thought of each other. Years of yearning and imagining had only made them crave a sweeter reunion. And finally meeting at a Royal banquet, he could only stare at the now grown Princess, taken by her beauty, while she only watches as he gives his heart to the wrong princess.

Missed a chapter? - Prologue / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

CHAPTER 4 ───────────────────

As the day of the foreign guests’ arrival approached, Princess Y/N ever so diligent, personally oversaw the final arrangements. And when the hour arrived, she stood poised and composed, ready to greet the foreign envoys with grace. Though it was never necessary for her to do so. The attendants and the Royal aids that were there to receive the delegates were taken aback by her presence, insisting they had it under control. The princess did not relent, making sure until the final hour, she was there to represent the Elysium royal family.

The exquisite carriage of the Eastern sea nation, Sylvancrest, arrived with its own fanfare, heralded by their band of guards and wagons laden with gifts. The Sylvancrest flag fluttered proudly as a footman hurried to open the main carriage.

Y/N, though nervous, maintained a calm expression as she prepared to greet the young prince who emerged from the carriage, followed by another young man in formal attire.

“Greetings to the Prince of Sylvancrest. Welcome to the Kingdom of Elysium. I am Y/N, the second princess.” She greeted with a flawless curtsy.

She stole a quick glance at the handsome prince, his long hair shimmering in the wind. Prince Hyunjin smiled warmly and returned her greeting with a bow.

“We are honored that our humble kingdom has been invited to celebrate with Elysium, and especially that a princess like yourself has come to greet us on our arrival.” His tone was smooth, honey-like, and the smile on his lips unwavering.

“Thank you for gracing us with your attendance, Prince Hyunjin. The Kingdom of Sylvancrest has flourished over the past decade, and I am eager to learn more about it.” Y/N’s stance was gracious, her words charming, revealing her natural gift for diplomacy.

He then introduced the quiet man beside him. “This is my personal knight, Seungmin.”

The knight, bowed solemnly, acknowledging his introduction with quiet respect.

Y/N welcomed the honored guests, as did the Royal aides. Turning to the countless attendants awaiting behind her, she instructed them to lead Prince Hyunjin to Emerald Hall, his designated residence for the upcoming weeks. The Sylvancrest prince bid her goodbye with another polite smile.

As the Sylvancrest party departed, Y/N felt a sudden quiet settle over, contrasting sharply with the earlier flurry of activity. Her mother was right. This role was not typically suited for a princess. Yet, she stood there, determined and resolute. The afternoon air was warm, a slight breeze keeping her company as she awaited the arrival of the next foreign dignitaries. Soon, the approaching sounds of horses and carriage wheels announced the arrival of the Nightshade delegation. Tension hung palpably in the air around her as the infamous Nightshade envoy halted. Whispers among her attendants mingled with the soft breeze. Y/N eyed the band of warrior knights in their formal uniforms, mounted on their dark horses, waiting for their prince’s exit from the carriage. There was a mix of nervousness and curiosity coursing through her.

For some reason, she was even more nervous than she had been during Sylvancrest’s arrival. Was it because of the fearsome reputation of Nightshade, the warrior kingdom that even her maids and attendants spoke of in hushed tones? Or was it the lingering effect of her soft spot for a certain boy from Nightshade, that clouded her mind?

When the carriage door opened, Y/N smiled expectantly, ready to greet the Nightshade prince. Her eyes immediately fell on the young man who emerged, stiff and composed in his military uniform. Despite his handsome yet rigid demeanor, it was evident he wasn’t the crown prince. A flicker of surprise crossed Y/N’s face, quickly masked by a polite welcoming stance as he approached.

“Greetings, I am Han, Crown Prince Christopher’s personal guard.” He introduced himself.

The familiar name momentarily softened Y/N’s expression. She had almost forgotten about Han, the young boy she had once mistaken for a servant boy. The one who seemed to relish the treats she had sent his way. And despite her encouragement for him to join her in the open, he had steadfastly remained hidden, diligently watching over from the shadows of the forest. A sense of gratitude for Chan’s companion spread across her face, causing the personal guard in front of her to raise a curious brow at her expression.

The princess caught herself, reminding herself that he was not the Han she should feel grateful to. This Han was just the personal guard to the Nightshade Prince

The missing Nightshade Prince.

Her eyes darted to the empty carriage Han had stepped out from. The prince’s guard seemed to have sensed her thoughts. An uneasy feeling pricked at him, but he managed to maintain his composure. How could he even begin to explain that the crown prince had jumped from the carriage near the Grand Forest, laughing as he instructed Han to concoct an excuse? Instead, he cleared his throat, and attempted to smile, though it appeared strained under the scrutiny of the aides that stood with her.

“My prince was captivated by the clamor and richness of Elysium’s streets. He simply wished to explore closer.” Han explained.

The two royal aides shared a look, while Y/N blinked a little stunned.

“Has he ventured out already? Is that permissible?” Y/N asks, a genuine curiosity etched across her face.

Han nodded reassuringly, a little proud even. “He is a warrior prince, and he is not alone. The bustling streets intrigued him, and he desired a closer look. He will return promptly, I assure you.”.

The warrior guard attempted to gauge the expression of the young lady in front of him, wondering if his excuse had been satisfactory or if the prince’s absence itself was perceived as rude.

Y/N pondered for a moment, a sense of understanding washing over her. It made sense that the foreign prince, unfamiliar with Elysium would be curious. Turning to her attendants, she instructed again.

“Once Crown Prince Christopher arrives, escort him to Ruby Hall. Ensure the Nightshade guards are settled in their quarters.”

Then, she turned back to face the warrior guard.

“Sir Han, welcome to the Kingdom of Elysium. I am Princess Y/N, Second Princess of Elysium.” She offered a respectful bow.

Han blinked in surprise, his eyes widened in shock as the introduction settled in his mind.

“P-P-Princess?” He stammered, quickly returning a deep bow.

The princess chuckled softly, her demeanor gentle despite the tension. Some of her servants exchanged uneasy glances, uncertain how she could laugh in the presence of a Nightshade warrior. The aides shifted in their spots uncomfortably. But Y/N didn’t seem to notice, nor did she really care.

“No need to be startled, Sir Han. Today has caught us both off guard.” Y/N reassured him, her smile warm.

“Take Sir Han to his room at Ruby Hall as well.” The princess instructed another servant who promptly appeared by Han’s side.

“I look forward to seeing you and your prince at the royal dinner tomorrow evening.” She bid farewell with a nod, her gentle smile lingering.

As Han followed the nervously fidgeting servant towards Ruby Hall, still a little upset of being thrown to the dogs by his prince and left to navigate this foreign palace alone, his thoughts lingered more prominently on the encounter he just had. Despite the discomfort among her entourage of servants and attendants, the princess had managed to put him somewhat at ease. Her introduction had struck him.

Princess Y/N, the Second Princess of Elysium.

Did Elysium always have more than one princess?

She seemed too mature to have been born during Han and Chris’ time in the White Mountains. She wasn’t afraid to look him in the eyes while everyone around her stood stiff. His brows furrowed with uncertainty, a question lingering in his mind. Could she possibly be Chris’ princess?

Determination hardened in his gaze. He needed to confirm his suspicions, but it wouldn’t be easy, especially with everyone around him on edge. The guard eyes the tense servant leading him, coming to a conclusion that he would receive no help from this jittery attendant. The notorious reputation of Nightshade preceded him in Elysium, evident in the stiff demeanor of the maids and servants who crossed paths with the warriors. Prince Christopher would not take kindly to this reception, Han concluded, already anticipating his irritation.

But when the warrior prince was finally escorted to his chambers after his impromptu excursion, Han couldn’t ignore the murmurs of the maids spoke about his master’s striking looks and mysterious aura. Daring to draw comparisons with the apparently handsome Sylvancrest Prince. Though they were still on edge from his sharp, cold gaze.

Glaring at Chris, who seemed to act oblivious to the chaos he had caused on their journey to the Elysium Palace, Han couldn’t help but inject a hint of attitude into his tone.

“Did you enjoy your trip, my prince?”

“I couldn’t navigate my way. It’s much different traveling through this side of the Grand Forest. If not for Minho, I probably would’ve gotten lost.” He shook his head with a wry smile.

“How did you hold up?” He asks, seeing the clear look of frustration on his loyal friend’s face.

“Surprisingly?...Well.” Han recalled, making Chris look at him with a doubtful gaze.

“The excuse of your absence seemed believable, and I was received well.” He explained.

“That’s surprising. I would have thought they’d regard us with more caution.” He pondered, eyeing the door the rigid servant that had escorted him here had left through.

“Oh, they do.” Han nodded. “But the princess that greeted me was anything but cautious, or she did a great job at hiding it.”

Hearing the mention of a princess has Chris sitting up, and Han could almost read the curiosity in the older man’s eyes.

“The second princess of Elysium, Princess Y/N, had greeted our envoy.” Han informed.

Chris raised a brow. “Second princess?”

“Yes, I have confirmed it, she is indeed the second princess.”

The prince fell silent, his mind racing with questions about Elysium’s royal family dynamics. How had he not known about the existence of a second princess?

Han observed Chris closely once again, noting the furrowed brows and the intensity in his eyes. Clearly, the second princess’ existence sparked a new train of thought in Chris’ mind, mirroring the thoughts Han had earlier.

“It seems the knowledge wasn’t widely shared beyond the Elysium court.” Han ventured cautiously. “She must have been quite sheltered.”

“Yet, Princess Y/N seemed... accommodating, despite our reputation.” Han continued.

Chris nodded slowly, a thoughtful expression settling over his features.

“Accommodating.” He repeated, as if testing the word. “That’s unexpected.”

Then he turns to study Han’s expression, a certain regret washing over him for missing the arrival.

“Did you sense anything... unusual about her?” His tone had softened.

The younger man paused to consider his response.

“She seemed composed, yet there was a warmth about her. She greeted us with respect, but I have not confirmed weather she is your princess.”

Han was honest. He sensed Chris’ question carried deeper implications, but he could only confirm what he had seen and heard in the brief time since their arrival.

The crown prince mulled over Han’s observations, his mind clearly at work.

“I’ll need to meet her myself.” He finally declared, a determined glint in his eye. “Tomorrow evening, at the royal dinner. Ensure I’m introduced properly.”

Princess Y/N.

He finally had a name, yet now he was unsure if it belonged to his princess. ──────────────────────── Lady Katherine seethed with anger, her steps echoing her fury as she entered her residence. The luncheon, meticulously planned to showcase her elegance and grace, had been ruined by the unexpected presence of the Queen. But it wasn’t just that, which led to the mistress blowing out steam of anger. It was through the uninvited Queen that she learned of her daughter, standing in the blazing sun, greeting foreign envoys as if she were a common servant.

The heavy door to the sitting area swung open with a force that started both the Princess and her maid, who had just returned from welcoming the guests. The atmosphere was thick with tension. Before either of them could react, Lady Katherine’s palm met Y/N’s cheek with a sharp slap that reverberated through the silent room.

Y/N staggered back, her hand flying to her stinging face. A gasp escaped Anna’s lips while the princess stared at the air in shock. The initial hurt in her eyes immediately morphed into defiance, she slowly faced her mother’s piercing glare.

“Do you know how embarrassed I felt!?” Lady Katherine’s voice pierced the air, her anger palpable.

“To find out a princess who has not even made a public appearance, greeting foreign princes, foreign warriors?” Her words were sharp, accusatory.

Tears had already welled up in Y/N’s eyes, but she refused to back down, meeting her mother’s furious expression stubbornly.

“You seem to forget your place. You are the Second Princess of Elysium.” Her mother continued, her voice trembling with anger.

“Your actions already have people whispering. How can you laugh in the presence of those beastly Nightshade warriors? What will people think?”

Lady Katherine’s concern for appearances was well-known. The mother who only cared about what others thought would never understand. How can Y/N explain to her reputation-obsessed mother that her gestures went beyond mere stubbornness. A princess personally greeting foreign envoys could foster goodwill and deepen alliances, making them feel more honored to be invited to the Kingdom of Elysium. Yet, explaining this to her mother seemed futile at that moment. So Y/N simply chose to stand silently under her mother’s intense scrutiny, her cheek tingling from the mother’s strike.

Damn. That was going to leave a bruise.

And indeed, the next day, despite Anna’s best efforts to conceal it with makeup, the bruise on Y/N’s cheek was unmistakable. She could see the frustration in the young maid’s gaze, perhaps from her futile attempts to cover the mark, or from the sight of her princess sitting here like this.

Anna dabbed gently at the bruise, her touch soothing yet laced with worry. The cloud of makeup powder hung in the air between them as she hesitated, contemplating another suggestion.

“My lady, perhaps we can try—”

“Let us skip this evening’s dinner.” Y/N interjected firmly, cutting off any further suggestions from Anna.

Though the swelling had subsided, the traces of Lady Katherine’s reprimand lingered, stark against Y/N’s skin. The princess understood all too well that attending the dinner with such visible marks would speak volumes about the unrest within their carefully curated public facade. It would reflect poorly on the king who preached peace and unity among the royal family.

As Y/N glanced at her reflection in the mirror, she felt a pang of frustration stir within her.

“But my lady! You’ve been preparing for this dinner for the past week, how can you not attend? Surely if try something—”

“Mother will come up with an excuse. She always does.” She remarked bitterly, her voice tinged with resignation.

Not that her absence would make a difference.

But as Y/N made the decision to stay cooped up in her bedchamber, the Queen summoned her. Reluctantly, Y/N draped a soft fabric over the lower half of her face to conceal Lady Katherine’s mark as she made her way through the court. She cursed under her breath, frustration simmering within her.

Arriving at the Queen’s chambers, Y/N straightened her posture and gathered her composure. The fabric provided a flimsy shield against the curious glances of courtiers who whispered among themselves. They knew something was amiss, but etiquette demanded they not pry. Y/N could feel the hot gaze of the first princess looking at her with concern. Despite her sister’s silent plea for an explanation, the unwavering gaze of the Queen mother held her at bay.

“What happened to you?” the Queen inquired, her tone curt yet tinged with a knowing edge that made Y/N uneasy.

“I’ve caught a cold, your majesty. It is nothing dire.” The lie slipped off Y/N’s tongue effortlessly.

The Queen sighed with resignation. She motioned for Y/N to relax from her formal bowing stance.

“That is a shame. It doesn’t seem like you would be able to attend tonight's dinner then, I presume?”

Y/N hesitated briefly, gathering her thoughts before nodding.

“Yes, I shall recuperate in my chambers tonight. But surely by the banquet, I will feel better.”

The Queen responded with a disinterested “hmm,” her attention shifting to Sienna, who stood anxiously nearby.

“Then Sienna shall oversee the final proceedings of tonight’s dinner.” She declared.

Sienna hesitated, clearly torn between her concern for Y/N and her duty to obey.

“Ah, but Mother…” She started, but the frosty look from the Queen silenced her protests.

“Yes, Mother,” Sienna conceded reluctantly, her gaze flickering briefly towards Y/N with a mix of guilt and apprehension.

“I will hand over the final arrangements to Princess Sienna.” Y/N’s voice was firm, despite the turmoil within.

She knew that the royal dinner that was bound to end smoothly would be credited to Sienna, receiving accolades from the guests for her supposed organizational prowess. But Y/N accepted it gracefully, like she always did.

As the second princess was dismissed from the Queen’s presence, she felt a pang of bitterness. She could sense Sienna’s conflicted feelings, unable to decipher the emotions hidden beneath the carefully arranged fabric that shielded Y/N’s injured cheek, yet she only tore away her gaze. Heavily reminded that the second princess will always stay in the shadow of her sister.

Stepping outside the Queen’s palace with her guard by her side, Y/N began to walk back to the West Wing Palace. However, she stopped in her tracks when she noticed an unfamiliar figure lingering in the outdoor corridors. Her brow furrowed as she distinguished him immediately, dressed in the dark attire typical of the Nightshade delegation.

He seemed to sense her presence almost immediately, turning to meet her gaze directly above the cover of her veil. She stiffened momentarily, taken aback by the intensity of his stare.

“Shall I remove him from here, your highness?” Her guard asked, moving closer with a protective stance.

Y/N raised a hand, signaling for him to stand back. “Stay here. He’s a foreign guest.” She commanded, making her way cautiously towards the warrior.

Chris watched the veiled figure approaching him, his expression unreadable. Her gaze softened as a feeling of familiarity washed over her. Yet Y/N also couldn’t help but notice his striking appearance up close, a little taken aback even. Why were these foreign guests so good looking? She briefly recalled the handsome Sylvancrest Prince. Her sudden intense studying gaze caused Chris to still, a little flustered even. But he quickly composes himself.

“I was lost.” He stated simply, breaking the silence, his hands clasped behind him as he maintained his stance, conjuring up a lie even before she asks.

She arched an eyebrow, seeing through his flimsy excuse but chose not to call him out on it directly.

“Are you with the Nightshade delegation?” She inquired instead, eyeing his attire critically.

“Yes, my name is Christopher.” He replied, inclining his head respectfully.

Y/N’s gaze remained knowing as she played along with his introduction, well aware that he was likely the prince of Nightshade despite his attempt at withholding his title.

“This is the Queen’s palace. If you were to be caught by her knights, it wouldn’t reflect well on your master. I suggest you return the way you came.” She advised, gesturing towards the direction he had probably snuck in from.

“Ah, I shall. Thank you, Miss.” Chris nodded, his eyes following her pointed finger for a quick glance.

“And if you were wish to explore the palace, I suggest you ask a servant of Ruby Hall, Prince Christopher.” She added, curtsying gracefully.

Chris was momentarily surprised by her sharp observation, his curiosity piqued. He watched as she turned and walked away, and he followed her instructions with a mixture of respect and intrigue. As he glanced back a few times at her retreating figure, he couldn’t help but wonder why her face was concealed. “Do I even ask?” Han’s expression conveyed weariness.

Chris chuckled softly at Han’s exasperated expression.

“I was just trying to peek around the royal court.” Chris admitted with a shrug, his tone light.

Han glanced around the serene garden of Ruby Hall, relieved to have finally located Chris after a morning spent searching. His expression was a that of concern, his voice firm yet tinged with a hint of pleading, as Chris sat leisurely enjoying afternoon tea. It wasn’t that his prince had always kept him on his toes. The mountains of the North had never allowed Chris to sneak around or relax, especially under Commander Seo’s watchful eyes. However, upon their return to Elysium, that carefree side of the warrior prince, long left behind, seemed to resurface effortlessly. It brought Han immense relief to witness Chris laugh and smile once more, like he had done when they were children. But Han couldn’t shake his caution. After all, they weren’t children anymore.

“We have Minho for that. You are to stay under my protection.” Han asserted, his gaze unwavering.

“Fine, fine. I won’t stray too far from you.” The prince conceded.

Han sighed softly, his shoulders relaxing slightly. He knew that despite Chris’ occasional curiosity, his loyalty to duty was unquestionable. But he was also worried this prince of his was running around trying to locate a certain princess.

“What if the she does not remember you?” Han’s words carried a cautious concern, reflecting the uncertainty that gnawed at him.

Chris paused thoughtfully, his fingers reaching for a raspberry cookie among the snacks laid out before him. He smiled softly, taking a deliberate bite that brought a familiar taste.

“We promised not to forget.” Chris replied, his voice gentle yet resolute.

Sometimes Han wondered, when he watched his prince closely, his thoughts drifting to their years in the biting cold of the North. He often wondered if the princess, who Chris held in his heart, ever reminisced about their past meetings with the same longing and reverence. Did she, too, find solace in memories during moments of hardship?

A deep breath escaped Han as he contemplated the uncertainties that lay ahead.

“Then tonight’s dinner will finally quell all your curiosity.” He stated with quiet assurance.

Chris nodded taking another bite of the cookie, the anticipation of the upcoming dinner palpable in the air between them.

Finally.

The warrior prince was usually a patient person. He had to be, especially when all he had done these past years was wait. Yet, he fidgeted in his formal attire, the beautifully crafted clothing making him stand out. He could feel Han’s watchful gaze on him, but his own attention was fixed on the servant who had arrived to escort them to the dinner hall, maintaining his stoic composure.

The guard kept his eyes peeled, shadowing behind his master as they were led through the grand halls, the intricate designs of the carpets under, a testament to the wealth and power of the Elysium crown.

The room was as grand as one would expect, with high ceilings and a dazzling chandelier casting light over the assembled nobles of Elysium. Seats at the dinner tables were already occupied by important figures of Elysium court, all rising respectfully as the Nightshade Prince entered. It was a reception that slightly caught Prince Christopher off guard, though he concealed any surprise as he acknowledged their greetings. He was more accustomed to the rough and rowdy atmosphere of the training hall in the White Mountains, rather than such formalities. Nonetheless, he managed the situation with practiced ease, his attention caught by the whispers and cautious glances of the nobles, noblewomen and even their children as he was guided him to his seat, Han standing watchfully nearby.

Those whispers and glances only intensified with the arrival of the Sylvancrest Prince. Even Chris and his guard couldn’t help but stare starstruck at the man’s striking presence, his gentle smile standing out amidst the crowd.

“I am Prince Hwang Hyunjin, your highness, fourth prince of Sylvancrest.” Prince Hyunjin introduced himself as he took his place beside Chris, who nodded in acknowledgement.

Chris responded with a slight smile, extending his hand to shake Hyunjin’s offered hand. “And I am Christopher Bhang, Crown Prince of the Nightshade Kingdom.”

As if Hyunjin’s introduction triggered something, the nobles began to approach them, offering greetings and pleasantries before the arrival of the royal family. The princes exchanged a brief glance, silently acknowledging the sudden onslaught of honeyed words and feigned smiles from the Elysium aristocracy. A facade that didn’t escape their notice. Beneath the surface, both princes remained on edge, as did the nobles, particularly wary of the Warrior Prince.

The sudden announcement of the royal family’s arrival prompted everyone to return to their seats, the grand doors opening once more. In, swept the Elysium King, his queen on his arm, both shining in their exquisite attire. The king’s smile was wide, acknowledging the bows and curtsies from the assembled nobles. Chris observed them closely, at the Elysium king his father had always described as ‘sly-looking’, though their last meeting had been when they were young men. The queen, pretty and gentle in appearance, exuded a hidden shrewdness that didn’t escape the warrior prince’s keen gaze. Next came the announcement of the other members of the royal family. Following the king and queen were their crown prince, Prince Ian, and his fiancée, the daughter of a grand duke or some such title. Chris had only just managed to familiarize himself with their recent royal family news during the journey to Elysium.

Then his gaze falters. His attention softened as his gaze fell upon the Princess. His eyes relaxed, taking in her graceful entrance.

Han narrows his brows, staring in both wonder and curiosity. Studying the princess closely. The two princesses were undoubtedly sisters, sharing striking similarities that he now concluded came from the King. The guard tried to get a glimpse behind the first princess, but the grand doors closed and the so-called second Princess he had encountered that morning was not present.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let me unofficially introduce the first princess of Elysium, Princess Sienna. She will make her formal introduction at tomorrow’s banquet.” He announced proudly.

Sienna ever so gracefully, bows deeply with a curtsy she had perfected through the endless etiquette lessons. Her smile captivated the room, especially all the young men amongst the audience. Including Prince Christopher, who found himself momentarily entranced by the familiar yet unfamiliar face of Sienna. His hand instinctively reached for the crystal bird pendant around his neck, but instead, he felt the cool touch of the buttons on the high collar of his attire.

“Princess Sienna had clearly put in tremendous effort for tonight’s dinner, despite her long journey back from Melgarde. We hope it meets your expectations.” The Queen’s acknowledgment drew a slight flinch from her, quickly masked by composed grace.

“It wasn’t all my doing, the second princess had also aided very much.” Sienna boldly added, her smile unwavering, though she avoided meeting her mother’s disapproving glare.

“Yes.” The king interjected with a chuckle. “My second daughter has unfortunately fallen ill and won’t be able to join us.”

He settled back into his seat, turning his attention to the foreign princes.

“We hope tonight’s royal dinner leaves you with no complaints. We welcome you to our great kingdom.” He declared, raising his glass of wine in a toast.

“Thank you for inviting us, your highness.” Hyunjin responded politely, raising his glass in return.

Chris inwardly sighed, his fingers tightening around his own glass.

“We are honored you’ve prepared so much for our arrival. Including the Nightshade Kingdom to celebrate with you alludes to your generous reputation.” He exaggerated, though his words elicited a chuckle from the older king.

“Of course. We are nothing but grateful the Crown Prince of Nightshade himself has graced us with his presence.” He toasts.

Chris nodded with a forced smile, bringing the alcohol to his lips. Sending the crown prince was both a gesture of goodwill and a calculated risk. Anything could happen to him on foreign soil. That’s why Sylvancrest had sent Prince Hyunjin, a fourth prince, as their envoy. But Chris was a warrior. His king was confident he could handle any threats that came his way. Looking at this king, he was reassured that there wasn’t much to worry about.

Dinner continued with the nobles attempting to win favor with the king through carefully chosen conversations. Hyunjin engaged them with details about Sylvancrest’s seaports, a topic that seemed to captivate the Elysium court. Or maybe they were enthralled by the beautiful man and his soothing voice.

Chris, however, found himself increasingly bored. He had thought he possessed enough patience for such formal events, expecting to engage in meaningful conversations rather than exchanging curt answers of a few words. Chris observed quietly, his attention drifting between the animated discussions at the table and the grand room. His gaze trailed once more to the center table, where Princess Sienna conversed quietly with the future princess-consort, her smile radiant. The warrior prince wondered why Sienna hadn’t spared him a glance, why she hadn’t recognized him.

No, he knew why.

Here, he wasn’t Chan.

There were many regrets he held from his younger days, and not properly revealing his identity to her was among them. Chris had been so concerned that his title would create tension, sparking her defenses due to the rivalry between their royal families. Looking back, he couldn’t help but see how foolish that fear had been. And when he decided he would finally tell her, he had been sent away.

Princess Sienna didn’t know Crown Prince Christopher, and she wasn’t stealing glances at him, as he had been doing the entire evening.

As the dinner drew to a close and guests began to disperse, Chris felt a sense of disappointment settle over him. This was not the reunion he had hoped for. As if Han could read the thoughts in his mind, the guard nudged him, bringing him back to reality.

They returned to the Ruby Hall, finding solace in front of the fireplace that offered warmth against the chilly evening air.

“Should we get Minho to find out more about the First Princess?” Han suggested, breaking the silence.

Chris shook his head, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “Minho doesn’t involve himself in such matters, remember?” He reminded Han, who sighed and settled back in his chair.

The Midnight Order, while effective for covert operations, had its limitations. Minho, loyal as he was, adhered strictly to the tasks that had to do with Nightshade. He wouldn’t delve into personal investigations unless they posed a direct threat to the crown prince. Especially not about a foreign princess.

“What did you think of their king?” Han asked, shifting the topic.

“He’s exactly as I expected.” Chris replied with a nod, recalling the evening’s events.

“What are your thoughts on the Elysium prince?” Chris inquired instead, observing Han closely.

“Prince Ian? He didn’t say much during dinner.” Han recalled, furrowing his brow in thought.

Chris nodded thoughtfully. Despite his own boredom throughout the evening, his eyes had been keenly observant. He couldn’t help but notice the numerous glasses of wine Prince Ian had consumed, laughing easily at the banter of young men his age. Chris suddenly found himself contemplating the future of Elysium.

“Our assumptions of the second princess seemed to have been true.” Han broke the silence once more, drawing Chris’ attention back to their conversation.

Chris had almost forgotten about the second princess. The one everyone else seemed to have met except him.

“I guess she really is as sheltered as we believed.” Chris concluded, his tone thoughtful.

“You know, there’s a lot of things that you have done wrong.” Han sighed, catching Chris off guard.

Chris raised a brow, silently urging him to continue.

“You’ve hidden so much from your princess, didn’t even ask for her name, and now you’re sitting here with such a pitiful look I’m not sure what to do.” He confessed bluntly.

Chris’ brow furrowed at his friend’s words. Unsure if he should laugh or sigh. Indeed, he was right. His younger self had made many mistakes.

“I also want to punch myself for that.” Chris groaned, admitting his regret.

But still Christopher was determined. Tomorrow’s banquet, he would ensure he properly introduced himself. He wanted Sienna to recognize him, not just as the Crown Prince of Nightshade, but as Chan, the friend she had promised not to forget. ──────────────────────── The royal banquet hall shimmered under the glow of chandeliers, its smooth floors adorned with intricate patterns that seemed to weave in gold. Guests in their finest attire, passed through the vigilant guards with awe. Chris and his entourage followed immediately after the Sylancrest Prince, sharing a knowing glance as they entered. Han stood by his side, visibly uncomfortable without his sword and stiff in his formal uniform, which was even more exquisite than the one he had worn the previous day.

“Nervous?” Chris smirked at Han, who shot him a glare in response.

“I think I’m suffocating.” Han muttered, maintaining a respectful distance a few steps behind his master.

Han’s sentiment was something he shared. Both had spent the past decade in the mountains, disregarding courtly rules and etiquette. However, while Han’s sole duty was to protect the Prince, Chris bore the additional responsibility of embodying the polite and approachable demeanor expected of a crown prince, representing his nation, especially since Nightshade’s reputation in this part of the land wasn’t favorable.

Forced smiles persisted as Chris exchanged pleasantries with curious attendees who approached him. Familiar faces from the previous evening’s dinner lingered, and the Prince of Sylvancrest stood beside him, similarly engaged. The two foreign princes found a sense of camaraderie under the watchful gazes of the Elysium guests.

The trumpets rang out, their resounding sound calling for attention. Instantly, the bustling hall fell into a hushed reverence as all eyes turned towards the grand entrance. Chris, amidst the sea of bowing heads and kneeling figures, stood with a nervousness that coursed through him like an electric current.

Through the parted sea of nobles, the Elysium royal family emerged with regal grace.

The royal banquet hall of Elysium shimmered under the brilliance of chandeliers, its smooth floors adorned with intricate patterns of gold. As the Elysium king and queen stood before their people, delivering a grand speech welcoming foreign princes and guests and aristocrats from every corner of the kingdom. The Nightshade Prince, listened with a raised brow. His instincts told him there was more to this reception than mere diplomacy, and he would definitely find out what.

His thoughts were soon diverted as he scanned the assembly, searching for his princess amongst the few ladies that followed behind the crown prince of Elysium. When the King of Elysium announced the arrival of Princess Sienna, Chris froze, his breath catching in his throat. He felt Han’s intense gaze on him but couldn’t tear his eyes away.

She looked even more beautiful than she had at the royal dinner, adorned with delicate pearls and jewels that caught the reflections of the shimmering chandeliers. Then he introduced the second princess. The king’s fatherly words resonated through the hall, emphasizing the upcoming celebrations for both princesses.

As both Princess Sienna and Princess Y/N bowed to the assembled guests, Han muttered into Chris’s ear.

“Princess Y/N, second Princess.” His eyes fixed on Y/N.

Still dazed, Chris turned to Han, his fingers brushing against the crystal bird pendant around his neck. He glanced over at the young lady who resembled the first princess, clearly Princess Y/N. He narrowed his brows, taking in the familiar sight of her eyes scanning the room after she rose from her bow.

Yet before the warrior prince could question further, the Sylvancrest prince interjects with his own comments.

The festivities continued after the King’s announcement. The royal rulers took their seats, and Chris found himself disinterested in the formalities. His focus remained on finding the princess whose smile had nearly blinded him. Despite the dance and social interactions, he lost sight of her in the grandeur of the hall.

Just as he turned to speak to Han, Chris froze once more. There she was. Princess Sienna, standing tall and regal, commanding attention with her presence. She moved gracefully among the guests, her younger sister, Princess Y/N, trailing behind as they greeted them with a brief exchange of words.

And finally, she was here in front of him.

Approaching with warmth and grace, Princess Sienna introduced herself, her voice like honey. Chris felt a stirring of recognition deep within him. Could this really be her? His childhood friend, the one he had longed to reunite with for years? The one he loves.

“Greetings, Your Highness. I am Sienna, First Princess of Elysium.” She formally introduced herself with a serene smile.

“And I am Princess Y/N, the second princess.” Y/N followed, her gaze briefly lingering on the man who she had seen in the Queen’s court just a day prior. He hadn’t recognized her it seemed.

“Good evening, Princesses. I am Christopher Chan Bahng, Crown Prince of Nightshade.” Chris returned his introduction with a determination, bowing politely, a gentle smile on his lips, the crystal bird pendant gleaming against his chest.

Y/N stilled at the mention of the name that was ingrained in her mind, her hands freezing at her sides as she stood from her greeting.

Sienna’s gaze fell upon the out-of-place pendant, and for a moment, surprise flickered across her features.

“That—it looks familiar.” She murmured, a smile forming, giving Y/N a quick glance before returning to look at the Warrior Prince.

Chris’ heart swelled with joy and relief from her words. Here she was, his childhood princess, standing before him with familiarity and warmth. It felt like everything was falling into place. His lips spread into a smile, wishing she would call him “Chan.”

But Sienna was not his princess.

The realization struck the second princess, like a blow. Y/N had always been one to connect things quickly. She stood frozen, her wide eyes fixed on the necklace and the man who wore it proudly.

Prince Christopher Chan Bahng.

The Crown Prince of Nightshade, who gazed at Sienna with a warm look.

Her Chan.

And suddenly he looked even more familiar.

Her heart pounded with a mixture of emotions, that feeling from when she encountered Han the morning of their arrival, returning with even more intensity. Except this time it was confirmed almost right away.

But Chan hadn’t even spared her a glance.

The pain in her chest was overwhelming. A dry feeling in her throat. The loud thrumming in her ears.

The boy she had imagined would recognize her in a heartbeat, the one she had longed to reunite with, hadn’t. A mix of disappointment and hurt swirled within her. She had created scenarios in her mind, dreams of a reunion like those from her favorite love stories, intense, intimate, filled with recognition and warmth. But reality was harsh and unforgiving.

He hadn’t recognized her at all.

Yet, she dared not approach him, dared not correct him.

A thought suddenly weighing heavily on her.

How could she?

She?

A lower princess, the king’s mistress’ daughter. One he didn’t even look at, while he was the Crown Prince of his nation.

He was a goddamn Crown Prince.

Their differing ranks were painfully evident all of a sudden.

Her eyes trail down to linger on the delicate necklace adorning his neck. The one that had belonged to Sienna. It had aged, not so polished as she recalled from her memories. But still, the crystal bird glimmered under the chandelier’s light.

It mocked her with its beauty and radiance.

The second princess who grew up in the shadows of her royal older sister couldn’t do anything but bite back her tongue. The crystal bird that led her childhood friend to it’s owner, reminded her of her shameful act of stealing it and the incidents that followed.

The coming heartache could have been avoided with just one confession from her, but she stood in silence, the weight of everything that coursed through her mind hung heavily over her. Yet even her self-loathing seemed to be overshadowed by Sienna’s radiance.

Chan’s eyes did not look her way.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ to be continued.

── ask to be tagged! - @stayceebs97, @palindrome969, @tsunderelino, @solandiszale, @fixation-dump, @ellelabelle

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lilacxquartz · 5 months ago

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life beyond midnight

oc male!demon × human female!reader

w.c: 2.8k

plot: slowly but surely, you got to the bottom of why you had a live-in incubus in your bedroom. but can you actually trust a word it says?

side notes: being clear right away that this isn’t a multi chapter thing, but a series of one shots to explore my oc with. however, you can consider this to be a direct follow up from the first story.

other works in this series:

under the bed, where midnight slept

***

The monster was still there when I woke up.

This threw me off because it was always gone by the morning. My eyes next scrolled over to the windows, finding that not only were the blinds now closed, but a thick blanket hung over the otherwise bare curtain rails, blocking out almost all of the natural light.

Had it tailored the room for its own comfort while I was asleep?

My alarm went off shortly after, jolting me back into reality. I didn’t have work today for once, which was partially the reason why I chose specifically last night to finally get to the bottom of things.

And just like always, I felt refreshed.

Still, the looming threat remained and my composure was slipping away again. It was as if the sedative from the monster’s kiss was no longer coursing through my bloodstream and I was coming back to terms with reality.

There was a monster right next to me.

The panic was sure taking its sweet time to kick in, though. I knew it would happen at any minute now—likely as soon as I would regain full control of my lucidity.

A part of me told myself not to fear it too much. That nagging, stubborn side of my brain kept arguing that if it truly intended to harm me, it would have done so earlier in the night. Yet when I woke up just moments ago, I seemed just fine.

However, as I thought about more and more of my strange situation. I could feel my mental state slowly continue to wither away.

Maybe it was something about the way the monster held onto me. It didn’t feel as though it was protecting me; rather that it was guarding me. The way it pressed against my flesh with its fingers wrapping around my body bordered almost territorial.

This little observation left me feeling as though I was the monster’s property, rather than its cause for affection.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment in an attempt to calm myself down.

However, it all started to come undone at last.

The dread was finally surfacing.

I turned around while still contained within its grasp, facing the monster head-on. I then slowly pushed myself to the side in an attempt to create some distance. Now that it was no longer nighttime, I could see the monster’s features with more clarity which only deepened the unease.

(And the rising panic.)

Smokey grey skin stretched around an impossible frame; freckled with ashen highlights. Its body continued to burn with shadowy wisps, resembling black fire. My eyes slowly widened in both awe and terror as I took in the sight of the creature before me.

Finally, the gig was up and my psyche started to cave in.

It all hit me at once again. A sharp stab that dug into my chest as my mental state struggled to adapt to reality. That this creature, this monster, was lying in my bed at my side as though it belonged there.

Maybe my reaction was too rash as I quickly tore out of bed in retaliation. A captivating surge of adrenaline pulsated through my veins, pushing me to lurch as far away from the bed as I could leap. My back kissed the cold brick wall right by the bedroom entrance; my hand threatening to press onto the door handle.

Every fibre of my being was screaming at me to escape.

But then monster came around, I watched with steady eyes as it opened up its own and slowly stretched. Its mannerisms seeming oddly human for the terror it appeared to be in my gaze.

I continued to inch towards the door as it stirred, intending to slip out of the bedroom and slip off somewhere, anywhere else that offered more security.

However, as my hands continued to push the handle down, an almost desperate voice halted me in my tracks, “Wait.”

In response, I froze. I could still talk however, so I attempted to ask a question it didn’t quite answer properly before.

It wasn’t as though I could do anything else anyway.

“What are you…?” I asked.

The monster faltered as it stammered. I could tell that its demeanour seemed rehearsed, somehow, not quite buying its behaviour as a result. Maybe this was how the monster truly acted, but something about it seemed uncanny, as though it was mimicking me.

“I’m what your kind would call an incubus,” he replied as he now sat at the edge of my bed, weighing it down, “sometimes known as a sleep paralysis demon.”

“The… s-sexual kind?” I asked, my voice tainted with discomfort.

“Not necessarily,” the demon calmly corrected me, slowly standing up and revealing its tall form, “it doesn’t always have to be like that, especially if you don’t want it to be.”

I started at him for a short while longer, my hand continuing to press at the handle and slowly pushing the door open. I knew already that I wouldn’t get very far, but it seemed to be nervous as I played around with the idea of leaving again and again.

It was odd. I had always thought that demons were supposed to be charismatic, yet this one mimicked a human personality more than anything else. I remained sceptical as a result, convinced that it was playing me somehow.

Maybe I just didn’t know enough about demonology, though.

The demon slowly drifted closer, continuing to speak as it did so, “Most demons, including incubi and succubi are neutral. I can assure you that much. We’re not too different from people.”

I tilted my head off to the side as it continued, his words seeming wrong to me.

The false comfort that it kept trying to feed me only unsettled me further. There was something about this creature that I couldn’t fully trust. It was as though there was some instinctual alarm going off in my gut; a deep primal response that begged me to not trust a single word that came out of his mouth.

It might not have been lying to me completely, but it did seem as though it was at the very least withholding the full truth.

“So, what do you… want from me then?” I asked, my voice croaking a little.

He slowly took another step forward and the closer he crept, the more urgently I pushed at the door. However, my body at the same time, slowly began to statue itself into place as the threat of looming danger worsened.

“When an incubus or a succubus seeks out a human to be with, it’s what is known as a bonded mate,” the demon explained with a gentle tone, although there was a certain intensity within its expression. Despite its lacking irises, the face he wore seemed frustrated for some reason.

My brows furrowed as I seethed out an exasperated whisper, “So, I have no say in the matter at all…?”

Also what? A… bonded mate?

“It’s a decision materialised from fate, which is why my kind often tries to adopt a neutral approach for things like these,” he said, his words deepening my unease.

I did finally get it, though.

“So, you’re trying to coerce me into accepting this… this fate?” I asked, trying to confirm my suspicions.

As far as I understood it, I had no choice or say in the demon being here with me right at this moment. But it also seemed equally trapped. I didn’t like the idea of this one bit, though. However, if this thing was going to continue to play nice for the time being and answer all of my questions, then I had to take advantage of that opportunity lest it slipped away.

The demon sensing my dread tried to offer me comfort, “Look, I don’t want to force you… nor hurt you.”

“Yet I still don’t have a choice?” I asked, feeling my expression sour.

“You do not,” he confirmed.

Such a blunt answer churned something that just wouldn’t settle in my mind. I didn’t like the idea that it seemed insistent on staying here, claiming that its presence was determined by something beyond its own control. If I was going to get anywhere with understanding this creature though, then I had to push aside my fear and seek answers while I still had the chance.

(It was easier said than done though.)

Perhaps though, if it was fate that truly controlled my destiny, then maybe there was a chance that it paired me up with something (somebody?) compatible and my judgement was too early. Maybe this monster was actually perfect for me, despite its unsettling form.

I looked at him once more, sighing as my brain struggled to accept that creatures from hell actually existed and that there was an actual demon standing right in the middle of my bedroom.

Looking at me.

Talking with me.

Reluctantly, I parked my disbelief away, hoping to get somewhere with it.

“So, you’re a demon huh?” I asked in a resigned tone.

It nodded.

I also bobbed my head in an attempt of forced understanding, “And… do you have… a name?”

The incubus paused for a moment as though to deeply consider my question. Its body language relaxed slightly, almost as if this particular question was a breakthrough point between the two of us.

The more I thought about it, the more I wondered exactly how first meetings go between other bonded mates. Was there usually more yelling involved? Or were people usually strangely acceptant with demons attempting to court them?

“The closest translation in your language would be Midnight,” he finally spoke up, “so feel free to call me that.”

I pondered that detail for a moment. Would it be silly to assume that its language was Latin? Or was it something completely different? I tried to envision how demons could possibly speak to one another and it didn’t sound too promising in my head, though.

I attempted to introduce myself next, awkwardly mustering up the courage as I continued to croak out my words, “And my name is-“

He quickly interrupted me though, relaying my name right back to me. It seemed that he already knew it, prompting me to hum in confusion.

“And you’re how old… exactly?”

“I’m a little over two hundred,” Midnight replied.

“A-and you haven’t had any other… bonded mates?”I asked, trying to understand how his kind worked exactly.

“No, fate can take a while to assign the right person. Some aren’t matched for centuries,” he explained further.

“So… why now for me? I mean, I have been in my twenties for a while now,” I enquired, struggling to understand the timing.

Midnight’s expression however faltered as if he didn’t quite understand my question either, “I’m not sure about that much, I apologise.”

“Then… c-can you… can you tell me more about you so I can understand what’s happening here exactly?” I asked, feeling my brain short circuit a little as my words scrambled.

“I can be as transparent as you’d like,” Midnight nodded in response, his voice sounding soothing despite carrying an uneasy undertone, “I don’t want you to be afraid.”

“Ah,” I admitted with a unsure smile, “that part might take a while.”

He remained still as I studied him.

The only thing that was getting me through this entire encounter despite his scary appearance, was that he both acted and sounded human to me. Maybe this was an intentional play on his part, hoping to puppet something that resembled a human so that I wouldn’t be screaming bloody murder if it just acted normal. Maybe that much was an unfair assessment, but something about the way Midnight composed himself felt masked.

I warily eyed him up and down from head to toe as he drifted just a little closer, taking mental notes of his appearance. Greying skin glittered with charred specks and certain parts of his body that were deeper consumed by the shadows than others. My eyes trained on his hands where black claws extended from his fingertips, making me wonder if his teeth were similarly pointed.

“I can understand,” he said after a short moment, his words sounding tinged with slight conflict, “my kind can be… unsettling to humans, but I can assure you that I mean no harm. Especially not to you.”

I nodded in an attempt to comfort myself but something still knotted away in my mind. A certain detail about incubi and demons in general that I prayed to be wrong.

With a hesitant tone, I dared to ask what was on my mind, “Don’t incubi feed on something…?”

“Emotional energy, yes,” Midnight confirmed without skipping a beat, “it can be any type and it isn’t limited to just sexual energy if that’s your cause of concern. Every demon is different.”

“So… you’re trying to establish a relationship with me so that you can feed off of me?” I asked, beginning to understand why he was so keen on manipulating me into accepting this situation.

“You could say that, but it doesn’t have to be so one sided. I want to care about you too,” he assured me, his voice taking on a possessive edge.

I hesitated as I attempted to push him away, “I-I mean-“

“—I want to protect you… if you’d let me,” Midnight interrupted, his words coated in concern, continuing the claim that his intentions were good despite admitting that I was a source of food for him.

Such a proposition left me wondering about how exactly he survived for so long without feeding, but my mind held off on asking about such curiosities just yet.

For now, my mind was lost in a barrage of overwhelming thoughts that spread through my brain like wildfire. I didn’t even notice how he had already closed a considerable distance between us as my head ached. I audibly gulped when I did realise it though, feeling dread as he towered over me.

Looking directly down at me.

Despite his looming posture, something about the way he acted once again forced me to let me guard down. It was as if my fears were slowly becoming diluted outside of my own influence.

Was this his doing?

Midnight continued to lean down slowly, his index finger lifting my chin so that he could kiss me again. I felt that familiar rush that resembled a sedative settle within my body, both comforting me and lulling me into trust.

As he closed in, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was some sort of magic at play here. If fate and demons were real, then maybe there was more to the world than I knew was possible.

Such a thought both scared and excited me.

In a way I was thrilled that the world wasn’t so mundane, but in contrast, I felt terrified that monsters were actually real.

As the effects of the kiss finally settled, I felt a wave of warmth sweep over me and looking back up at Midnight, he seemed to be looking at me in a different sort of way now.

“Do you still feel afraid?” he asked me, his voice now carrying the same coldness that it did right before I fell asleep with him last night.

Something sinister lurked in his tone as if the kiss was partially laced in some sort of poison in addition to the sedative effect. It felt as though my acceptance for him was fabricated.

“Not right now,” I admitted in a slur. I felt buzzed, elated, even. I knew that I should have been more afraid yet something controlled the way that I spoke, even how I reacted. Deep down, I knew that I didn’t like this but the softly simmering realisation didn’t come to a boil just yet.

Despite this, I still retained some hope through to all.

For one, he could have talked me into something much worse than just a kiss, into something much worse than just reluctant acceptance.

If this was only to make me lessen my fear of him, then it did make me wonder what exactly he was truly up to.

As such, I still held onto my initial scepticism deep down, that Midnight wasn’t being entirely truthful, that there must have been more to him than met the eye and what he was telling me.

After all, wouldn’t I be delusional if I just outright believed his claims? To entertain the idea that something so heavenly that was forged from the hells was offering me a neutral choice in how our relationship would go?

I just couldn’t buy it at all.

The idea of my existence serving as food a monster didn’t sit right with me and yet, I almost wanted to see where this whole thing would take me.

Even if I was terrified to see just how far we would both go.

(To hell? Or maybe even worse…?)

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an-ambivalent · 1 year ago

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I thought of this scenario... 😳🙃 So um anyway... Back on my uchiha bullshit.

Warning: yandere content and themes of abuse. Read at your own discretion. I do not condone this behaviour in real life.

Imagine one of those medieval european settings from any villianess/isekai manhwa you've read. The royal family (the Uchihas) are tyrannical rulers, particularly the current monarch Fugaku Uchiha. There's no room for error, people are easily beheaded left and right for the tiniest mistake or "disrespect" against the Uchiha family.

Itachi understood his family dynamics. So, he adapted quickly and knew how to behave and navigate his family complex situations to not get on his father's bad side. Despite whatever he believed, he did whatever Fugaku expected him to do to not face his father's wrath. But, Sasuke on the other hand... He's always been a bit more oblivious from a young age.

He lived a sheltered life. His mother already lost her first son to Fugaku, she didn't want to repeat the same mistakes so she kept him more isolated and protected. It didn't matter because Fugaku ignored his youngest son anyway. He only cared for his heir, Itachi.

Raised in his own little bubble, there were only few people Sasuke interacted with: his mum, his nanny, and his nanny's daughter and his only playmate: you. There wasn't much else for a long time, just sweet innocent childhood memories. That's until he reaches a certain age and starts noticing the difference between his brother's status and his own, and his own father never even speaks to him. He wants to start seeking out his father and yearns for his approval.

There have been something different about Itachi lately. Fugaku knows he's losing his control on his son. There's not much he can do until he notices his second son lingering around. Its perfect because Sasuke is seeking his approval and Fugaku needs to restart his training for a new puppet.

The tyrannical monarch, when seeking out his second son for the first time, witnesses the most appaling his scene. His son, a royal prince is confessing to you, a mere servant's child, a commoner. That's not the worst part: how dare you, a filthy peasant, dare to reject his son?! Who did you think you were?!

That scene is enough to show how lacking Sasuke's education has been under his incompetent mother. The most pretegious family, Uchiha, they don't ask. They take what they want, when they want it.

And then before anything could happen, both you and Sasuke are captured by the imperial guards. You're terrified. You've heard countless of stories about how ruthless the Emperor is. You knew that with your status, death awaited you. For Sasuke, despite whatever his harsh punishment, his royal status would protect his life.

You cried out in pain as the knights pinned you to the ground. The concrete dug into your skin, causing painful abrasions, and you felt blood gushing out of your forehead.

Sasuke cried out in panic at seeing your situation. "Father please! Stop-"

"Insolent child! No child of mine will be ever at a peasant's mercy! Clearly, your education has been lacking. I've been too lenient with my dear wife. It's about time I take you under my wing.

"You're not going to be like Itachi, I'll make sure of it. I'm going to teach you how to take things for yourself and keep them for yourself."

Fugaku loomed over Sasuke; the young boy wept in fear, with tears at the corner of his eyes, and legs shaking.

"Do you want her?"

"W-what?"

Fugaku clicked his tongue and his glared hardened. "Don't make me repeat myself boy, I will make you regret it. You confessed to her. Do you want her?"

"Y-Yes."

"Then you will have her. No child of mine will be denied anything, especially not from a peasant. You're going to keep her and learn how to take what you want and keep everything under your control." He said, grinning widely.

You could do nothing but tremble in fear knowing that you were going to be nothing but become a possession for another future tyrannical monarch.

#yandere x reader #Sasuke x reader #Yandere sasuke #Yandere scenarios #Naruto x reader #Yandere imagines #Uchiha x reader #Yandere uchiha #Ambivalent writes #Yandere naruto

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itacats · 21 days ago

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Under the Shadow of Ghost

FT: Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: trauma, war themes, prisoner of war, injury/allusions to torture, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

A/N: Part 3 has arrived! Enjoy!

Read Part 1 here! Read Part 2 here! Read Part 4 here! Read Part 5 here! Read Part 6 here! Read Part 7 here! Read Part 8 here! Read Part 9 here!

Part 3: The Abyss

Time ceased to exist within the suffocating walls of my cell. It felt like an eternity since they had thrown me into this damp, decaying prison—a tomb of metal and stone, devoid of light and life. The air was thick with the scent of rot, the cold seeping into my bones like a slow poison. Every breath was a battle against the crushing weight of despair that pressed down on me, and the silence in between was only broken by the occasional creak of metal or the distant footsteps of my captors.

They wanted information—relentlessly and without mercy. The interrogations were a daily ritual, a twisted dance of agony where they probed deeper into my mind, hoping to break me, to rip the secrets of Task Force 141 from my lips. But they found nothing. I had learned to hold my silence, even as their methods grew more brutal. Each strike, each surge of pain, felt like a firebrand across my soul, but I never gave in. Every scream that escaped my throat was swallowed by the darkness, a soundless plea that never reached beyond the cell walls.

Days, perhaps weeks, passed in a blur of torture and isolation. Time stretched, distorted, blending into one endless cycle of pain. My body ached from the unyielding shackles that bound me, my wrists raw and bleeding. The cold steel cut into my skin, a constant reminder that there was no escape. I was alone, trapped in a void of suffering, and yet, somehow, I clung to life. Not out of hope, but out of sheer defiance.

But in the quiet moments between torment, when the guards had left me to fester in the dark, my mind wandered to memories that kept me tethered to something beyond the nightmare. I thought of my team—those who had been my comrades, my brothers. I thought of Soap’s irreverent banter, Gaz’s sharp wit, and most of all, I thought of Ghost. Simon "Ghost" Riley. The man who was an enigma to everyone except those who had glimpsed the shadows behind his mask.

In those bleak hours, when the darkness seemed to have swallowed everything, I found a strange comfort in the thought of him. His stoic demeanor, his unflinching resolve in the face of danger, the way he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders yet managed to remain steady—those were the memories I clung to. I could still see him in my mind’s eye, standing silently in the corner of a briefing room, his skull-patterned balaclava concealing most of his face but never hiding the fire that burned in his eyes.

There was something in Ghost - in Simon - that resonated with me—a shared understanding of pain, of loss. His scars, both visible and hidden, spoke of a past marred by torment, yet he wore them with a quiet pride. They defined him but did not control him. He had faced the abyss before and returned. That knowledge, that image of him standing tall even after all he had endured, gave me strength when my own will faltered. It reminded me that I could survive this too.

I found myself replaying moments we had shared. His gruff chuckle—so rare, but when it came, it was a sound that could lighten even the darkest of days. I remembered the way it echoed through the confines of our transport, breaking the tension before a mission. It was a laugh that held a depth of understanding, a grim acknowledgment of the brutality of our world, but also a refusal to be consumed by it. Simon wasn’t just a soldier. He was a survivor, and in those fleeting moments, his humanity shone through the cold exterior he maintained.

In the suffocating silence of my cell, I allowed those memories to take root. I needed to believe that there was something waiting for me beyond these walls—something more than the endless cycle of torment. I needed to believe that I would return, that I would see my team again, and that I would stand beside Simon, as I had before. The thought of seeing him once more, of hearing his voice cutting through the haze of battle, became a lifeline I couldn’t let go of.

But every time that flicker of hope appeared, the reality of my situation would crash down on me like a wave. The guards would return, their cold eyes void of empathy, and the cycle of pain would begin anew. Each time, they pushed me closer to the edge, trying to strip away the last remnants of my resolve. And each time, I fought back—if not with my body, then with my mind.

Through it all, I never forgot Simon. His presence lingered in the recesses of my thoughts, a specter of resilience that kept me anchored. In a way, he was with me, even though we were worlds apart. I could still hear his voice, feel the weight of his words, and in those moments, I wasn’t truly alone.

The abyss had swallowed me whole, but I wasn’t gone. Not yet. The thought of my team, the thought of Simon, kept me clinging to the fragile thread of my will to survive. There would come a day when I would emerge from the darkness, and when I did, I would return to them. I would return to Simon. And maybe, just maybe, I would find the strength to face whatever came next.

But for now, I was still here, shackled and broken, a prisoner of war.

Read Part 4 here!

As always, thank you for reading! I hope you all like how it's going so far. Also tips for improvement are always welcome. I'll see you in the next part tomorrow!

#bt extra #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #gn reader #call of duty #cod #fanfic #cod fic #simon ghost riley #under the shadow of ghost

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keruimi · 6 months ago

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Your Emphathy

Pairings: Kageyama Tobio x reader

Warning: Little Angst, Comfort

Note: Not proofread. Wrote this while watching Gho's "King Again" amv about Kageyama Tobio. His character development made me love him more. Please inform me if he's too out of character. Hope you all enjoy it!!

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Egocentric King... An oppressive dictator.

I am known for that reputation. Not Kageyama Tobio, who is deeply in love with volleyball.

The same words that haunted me even when I entered Karasuno Highschool. Even if I became the main setter.

The fear that I will lose this position if I don't manage to prove myself in the court.

That no one would want me to be part of their team at all because of the way I can't control my emotions over losing one point.

Those thoughts were the reason I declared myself incapable of loving someone.

Until she entered my life without any warnings.

Shizuko Y/n

The one who I unknowingly gave my heart to. The student that started to become part of my thoughts.

A nice student who first offered her help when I struggled adjusting in this place.

When I feel like I'm being eaten alive by regrets, she suddenly appears in front of me like she is pulling me away from it.

The girl I let my guard down on. Someone who entered my heart that I opened for her.

Yet even of thoughts about me loving her, the fear never left me at all.

The fear of not being better, not giving enough, not being caring enough. Things you need to give to the person you love.

So even if it was against my will, even if I didn't want her to leave. I chose to push her away.

Because I would not let her tolerate a tyrant like me.

I would not let her be in pain because of what I will do.

After all, I'm not aware of what was right and wrong from the start. I don't know how to act to the people around me.

The time I started ignoring her was still bearable. Passing the hallways as if we are strangers.

Like we never interacted with each other.

Those moments made my heart throb knowing those are the thing I chose to feel.

Before I implicate her worse than it should be.

I don't need anything or anyone, I just want to play volleyball my whole life. Play until to my heart's content.

Those were the words I tried to believe myself into.

But having no one, scared me to my very soul.

"Y/n..." I muttered her name under my breath as I put my gaze on the court.

"I badly wanted to be with you"

It was the words I told myself when my heart and mind started debating on what's for the best.

What's the less painful decision to take?

My one-sided love is kept to myself for months until it finally bursts when she decides to make her way to me.

When she decided to approach me to fix the problem between us that I made myself.

"What did I do wrong, Kageyama?"

What should I do now?

We're tired of you, you egocentric King!

I'm tired of trying to understand my feelings too. It's more complicated than what I have thought.

Did I just run away?

Running away from these feelings I never want to exist.

"Please talk to me"

"Stop!" I shouted as I gripped my hair in frustration.

I hate when these feelings enter the picture. Why won't it disappear?

"Just please disappear from my life"

"A heartless king"

I don't want to love anyone at all.

I'm scared of giving my everything and no one will be there to recevie it.

I'm scared of hurting anyone because of it, especially if it was her.

"I don't want you to leave..." I opened my thoughts to her once again as I let my hands fall in the side in defeat.

I hate fighting with myself.

It felt like the world turned quiet and the only thing I felt was her pulling my head to her shoulder making me lean down to hide the pathetic expression I'm making.

"I can't do it" I felt tears left my eyes as the silence of the night is the only thing I heard.

The fear of everyone leaving. The empty space and no one around me. I know that I won't experience the same pain I went through in middle school.

But being alone again really scared me.

"I'm madly in love with you, Y/n"

I really wanted you to stay no matter how much I push you away.

I snake my arms around her waist as she kept her mouth shut, letting me out everything I hid to myself.

"I really wanted you to stay" I whispered and I finally felt her hands on my hair as she started to gently caress it while I felt her release a shaky breath.

"I thought you would never ask"

At that moment, I knew I had someone to run to. Someone I can vent my heart on.

"The Japan volleyball team really set my standards high. I might not be able to control myself in the practice match later" I ranted as I felt her warm hands took a hold of mine as she gave it a light squeeze.

"Look at your team once again, Tobio-kun" my eyes avert to my senpai's who are casually talking at the sideline as I felt my heartbeat went faster.

It's that fear again.

"They are far different from your middle school team." I gave her a side glance who turned to look at my way, with a small smile lifting from her lips.

"You'll do better than what you are thinking right now. Because you finally found the place you belong to"

A woman who accepted my passion. Someone who didn't question my priority at all.

She let me do everything I want. Let me have the freedom to move how I want.

Someone who didn't bother changing my bad sides. Never compare herself to volleyball.

She's a woman who never asks for much, just my love.

And that somehow manages to ease my mind.

"Are you not scared if I can't give you the attention you deserve because of volleyball?"

"What attention do you think I deserve, Tobio?" My mind seemed to pause from her words before she halted on her steps in front of me.

"I love you while you're still playing volleyball. Why should I remove something you already got used to before this relationship existed?"

She turned to me before holding my cheeks on her hands being warmed by gloves.

"It's alright if you prioritize volleyball. That's where you are passionate about. That's where you find who you are" I can't help but blush from the warm gaze she is giving me.

"Volleyball created who you are. Tobio, loving you is already enough. I'm alright with being your shadow, being your supporter from the sideline" she took a hold of my hand before we started walking again.

"As long as you don't ignore the messages of reminders I'm giving you. We'll be fine. This relationship will survive." My heart warmed on her words before I rested my head on her own.

"I don't deserve you..." I whispered as I felt her squeeze my hands once again.

"I don't deserve you too" That made me stand upright and glance at her who looked ahead of us.

"You have dreams while I don't. You know what you want, while I don't. I'm the type of woman who just goes with the flow of life." She exclaimed as she wrapped her hands around my arm before looking at me.

"Tobio, without getting over our fears, we can't love without hurting the other. There will always be mistakes and shortcomings" she stated.

"It's better if we take things slow. We still have a lot of years ahead of us where we can know each other better". I felt her squeeze my arm a little that made me face her.

"Pause and take a rest. We are not in a hurry"

And I knew that time.

I opened my heart to the right one

#haikyuu anime #haikyuu #hq anime #hq #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyū!!#haikyu x reader #haikyuu kageyama #hq kageyama #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama tobio x you #haikyuu tobio #tobio kageyama x reader #tobio x reader #Spotify

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blueicequeen19 · 2 years ago

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Payback

Warning: NON-CON? - JJ thinks she’s his gf & she lets him. Cheating. Angst. Toxic af

I heard him come in. I listened as he stripped out of his clothes then crawled into my bed. My bed. Not my sisters. When his warm body met mine under the covers, I shuddered down to my bones.

“I’m sorry, babe. I don’t want to fight.”

I kept my eyes closed as his hands caressed every inch of my curves, gently rubbing and squeezing. His hands found their way under my sleep shirt and rolled my nipples between his fingers until they ached. They weren’t the only thing aching. My panties were soaked.

“I need you so bad. Don’t be mad at me. I’m sorry I left, I just needed a minute to cool down and John B got me drinking.”

I could smell the alcohol on him. I knew they’d had another bad fight. They were toxic. My sister sucked the life and happiness out of everything whereas JJ was warmth and sunshine. I honestly felt bad for the both of them. They’d be so much happier with other people. This is what needed to happen. My sister was always cheating on him. It’s only fair she got a taste of her own medicine.

I remain “asleep” when he tugs my panties down and positions himself between my thighs, flicking his tongue along my clit without hesitation. It takes everything in me to fight the urge to buck and moan. But I maintain the ruse.

“God, you taste so good. My favorite fucking meal.” His fingers pinch my nipples as he licks my pussy, circling my clit with his tongue then sucking it into his mouth.

“I know you’re ignoring me but your body’s not.” His tongue flicks rapidly against my clit and my body tightens. I refuse to make a sound yet.

“Fine. Ignore me while my cocks in you.” I don’t get warning before he’s pushing inside me, the room filling with the sound of his groans as he fills me. I push past the pain, only a small whimper leaving my lips before his face is buried in my hair as he fucks me.

“Goddamn, this pussy is so good I can barely move.” I dig my nails into his shoulders as I turn my face away from his, biting back my cries as he stretches me beyond belief.

“You’re so wet for me, baby. My cock feel good? Why you holding back them pretty sounds? Afraid to admit defeat?” His lips find my neck and I gasp. Then he bites me. Hard.

I cry out, dragging my nails down his back until he growls, rutting his hips into me harder.

“Mark me, I don’t care. I already said I was sorry. What more do you want?” I turn my head quickly and kiss him hard. His caught off guard but I feel his anger start to dissolve. I moan when his tongue thrusts into my mouth and I taste the whiskey. We kiss and fuck until we’re breathless, the ache between my thighs had finally subsided.

“Cum with me.” JJ mumbles against my lips, hiking one of my legs over his shoulder and holding himself up as his pelvis slaps against mine. I throw my head back into the pillow, my body tightening as my climax raced forward.

I didn’t care that I wasn’t on birth control or that he didn’t have a condom on. I didn’t care about anything except this moment that would never happen again.

“JJ.” I moan his name without thinking.

“I know, baby. Play with your pussy. You’re close.” He cups my jaw, slipping his thumb between my lips just as my fingers find my clit. A zap of pleasure shoots through my body and the I loose the ability to breathe as I climax. I bite down on his thumb but he doesn’t pull away, only fucks me harder until he’s a moaning mess in my ear and I feel a gush of warmth between my legs.

He came inside me.

Because my sister is on the shot.

And he thinks I’m her.

It’s over. The moments over.

“Fuck, you almost ripped my dick off, babe.” JJ goes to kiss me again but I turn my head.

He withdraws him me with a sigh and I quickly clamp my legs closed and turn on my side, covering myself back up as my body shakes with after shocks.

“Please don’t be mad, babe. I love you. I just get so jealous. I hate seeing guys looking at you and talking to you.” JJ groans, rolling onto his stomach and burying his face in my other pillow while still naked. A moment passes and he’s snoring.

I don’t say anything as sleep rapidly approaches despite the mess to come in the morning.

When I wake up, he’s gone. My heart races as I wait for my sister to come in my room and scream at me but she never does. Not even after I take a shower and change out my bloody sheets. I thought I would look or feel different after I lost my virginity but I feel utterly the same. Minus the huge hickey on my neck that takes almost all my concealer to cover.

My anxiety was through the roof. I needed to get this over with. Time to face the consequences. I was ready to get dirty to get even.

I go downstairs for breakfast and am thankful when I find out she never came home last night. I literally sigh in relief when I find her car missing from the driveway. But my peace doesn’t last long because she shows up about an hour later, in last nights outfit. She looks like hell.

We don’t say anything as she ignores me to make a cup of coffee, not bothering to put anything away or clean up her mess. I can smell last nights party and someone’s cologne on her from across the counter.

“Fun night?” I ask, grinding my teeth as I think about her cheating on him again.

“What do you care?” She snaps, not even looking at me as she takes her coffee and goes upstairs. I clean up her mess and just when I hear her shower turn on, the front door opens and JJ walks in.

My heart nearly bursts inside my chest. Oh fuck.

His eyes lock on mine and although his expression is neutral, I know he knows. We remain silent as he walks into the kitchen, pours himself a cup of black coffee and watches me as he drinks it. I couldn’t deal with this.

“Get on with it.” I snap, tying my hair up into a messy bun to stop my hands from shaking. He sits his mug down with a smug smile. My eyes lock on his thumb. Oh god. He has a perfect bite mark all the way around it. From me.

Our eyes lock again and he cocks his head, holding up his thumb.

“You think this is bad? You should see my back.” I can’t say anything as he tugs his shirt over his head and turns, showing me bloody claw marks along his shoulder blades.

JJ turns to face me again, looking satisfied with himself.

“How’s your neck?” He asks, coming closer until he’s directly in front of me. I gasp when he wipes his hand across my neck, smearing the make up.

“Stop it.” I hiss, pushing at his chest.

“Better yet, how’s your pussy?” My cheeks and ears burn as last night flashes in my mind. I can still feel him inside me.

JJ cages me in against the counter, leaning in until we’re almost nose to nose. “You’re probably sore.”

“JJ.” My voice comes off as a whisper, my hand comes up to push at his chest.

“Because I wasn’t gentle.” He growls and my entire body shudders.

“I don’t have to ask if you liked it because I know you did. You let me tear through your virgin cunt and barely made a peep but you sure kept your legs spread and pussy wet.” He leans in until his mouth is next to my ear.

“I bet you even liked tricking me.” JJ whispers, his hand suddenly cupping me over my shorts. I gasp and jerk in his hold but he doesn’t move away.

“You got me good, Y/N. All those times that your sister fucks you over so you get her back by fucking her boyfriend. Kudos to you. That takes balls.” I suddenly hear the upstairs shower turn off and I look to the ceiling before meeting his firey gaze again.

“So here’s the deal. I won’t tell your sister what you did, but you have to keep spreading your legs for me.” I lean away from him, my body shaking uncontrollably as the countertop digs into my back. I can’t even swallow my own spit.

“And I know she cheats on me. The whole island knows. So consider this MY payback.”

Tag list: @lovedetlost @hoebx @strokesofstokes @alizabethcs @carnisidi @famousdestinygarden @i-always-come-back-xoxo @pankowforlife @my-baexht-ls @onmykneesforrafe @slutforsmutsstuff @bethoconnor @hellosexxxysalvatore @mrsjakeseresin @belcalis9503 @maybanks-luver @i-always-come-back-xoxo @adventuresinobx @hopebaker @drewbooooo @itsmytimetoodream @houseofperfecttaste @harlowsgirl @wh0reforstefansalvatore @urmommas @drewbooooo @ogayitsgwen Let me know if I missed anyone! 💕

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cherryblossomforest · 2 months ago

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I'm venting about my mother.

I know I can't go there when it comes to my mother. I can't even touch on it. She fucks with my head really badly and she always has. Part of me wants to try again anyway. Part of me wants to try because I know that if I was to get her number and call her she'd welcome me back with open arms but it's a trap. It's always a trap. If you think I'm unstable now, you don't know just how much my mum messes with my brain. It's like she turns me into this robot and I'm inside myself only able to observe. She had a way of messing up my brain and a way of reminding me I was helpless and below her. If you think my dad is bad, you haven't met my mother. 99% of people in my life, family and friends, call her a literal demon. Even those who barely know much of what she's done. She has this crazy scary sadistic way about her. I remember whenever I tried to rebel or out her, she gave me this look and it's like my brain would reset. I remember when me, my brother and my sister went to her house to basically talk about how badly she treated us. I sat in silence because I was so so scared and I wouldn't look at her or in her direction. Then my sister spoke about a bunch of stuff and then I did, I got a little bit off of my chest. My sister and brother were shocked and I was inside myself observing. As soon as I was done speaking I retreated within myself again and my sister started talking. My mother wouldn't stop looking at me and it got to the point where she called me out. Ignoring all my sister and brother had to say. Just focusing on me. She kept telling me to look at her in her eye and I couldn't. I hated it. As soon as I did because she kept going on about me looking at her despite me not being the person actually talking at that point, she simply said "Okay" when I did and then my brain went blank.

That's why she was so unbelievably shocked at my brother's wedding when I stood calmly and didn't take her shit. I stood there watching her scramble to get me under her control. To be this helpless version of myself. The thing that helped was preparing beforehand and getting all my vulnerable parts away from the front. My mother is a No Go Zone and everyone helped inside. Violet was almost guarded in the front and no one the adults and gatekeepers didn't allow could get past. She did everything and when I kept trying to leave she kept grabbing me because she was so confused that I didn't give in to the normal antics.

So having this all come up is definitely unstabilising. It's been years. Maybe 4 or 5 since going no contact and it hasn't felt this bad since I went NC. Idk what's happening...

#fighting for my life #shouting in the forest #mother tag

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oliversrarebooks · 1 year ago

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The Rare Bookseller Part 15: Emily's Last Meal

Masterlist

September 1925

TW: captivity, mind control, covert brainwashing, Emily POV

Emily spent the entire afternoon curled up in a ball on her cot, wishing there were anything she could do to take her mind off of her situation. She'd like to go to sleep, even though the lights were still on, but sleep wasn't coming.

Lily had taken Oliver again, which meant the next time she saw him he'd most likely be glassy eyed and spouting pro-vampire nonsense, robbing her of the only person in the place she could at least hold a conversation with.

Even though he was a victim as much as she was, she wasn't especially inclined to feel charitable towards him right now. She had hardly slept a wink since she'd been dragged into these cells, and the sleep deprivation had been making her especially irritable, a raw nerve that kept being poked. And last night had been the worst night at all, because Oliver had spent the entire lights-out period chanting hypnotic mantras, loud enough for Emily to hear. There had been a steady drone of "obedience is pleasure" and "no desire to resist" the entire night with only brief respites. Not only was it disruptive, but Emily had actively fought sleep, not wanting to fall asleep with hypnotic chanting softening her mind.

The vampire guards who were so quick to crack down on unwanted noises did nothing about this, of course. Emily suspected that Lily had engineered this to take down both her and Oliver at once, a two-for-one special.

It wasn't Oliver's fault, and she knew that. Her annoyance should be directed towards Lily and their vampire captors, and it mostly was. But she still very much wasn't in the mood to speak to him when Oliver returned, completely unguarded, wearing a simple white kind of frock dress and looking quite serene.

"What are you wearing, Oliver?"

"Miss Lily gave me these clothes and let me shower," he explained. He was standing in front of her cell and none of the vampires seemed to care.

A lost cause, she thought, and hated herself for thinking so.

"And she told me to tell you that she'll be inducing you very soon."

Emily felt her mouth go dry, a cold pit of fear in her stomach. Of course, she expected this. She'd known what was coming. That didn't make it any easier.

"I know you're scared of it, Emily, but it's really not that bad," said Oliver in a tone that was probably meant to be reassuring. "She didn't take my mind that much at all. I still feel like myself, I just don't have any desire to escape, and I want to obey whatever the vampires tell me to do. That's not that bad, right?"

Oh, Oliver was such a lost cause. And she was next in line.

"Are you listening to yourself? You think that wanting to obey the vampires, the vampires who kidnapped us and are holding us in prison to sell -- you think that's okay?"

Something briefly flashed in Oliver's eyes, a spark of life. "I think it's... I think it's our reality," he said. "And if we have to be here... is it so bad if they make us want to obey? It's easier, and will help us survive. That makes sense, right?"

"I don't really care what makes sense," she said. "I don't want to be a slave. I don't want a vampire erasing my free will. I don't want some monster feeding off of me -- or did they make you forget that they were going to do that, too?"

"I didn't," he said. "You're probably not going to believe me, but Miss Lily showed me a little of what it would be like, and it wasn't nearly as bad as I had imagined. I'm not sure how to explain it without sounding crazy, though."

"It sounds crazy because it is crazy. Because you're totally under their spell now. What about your bookshop? Your former life?"

Oliver's calm facade broke a bit as he looked down at his feet. "...I'm not getting those back, I don't think," he said. "I... um. Perhaps this is an awkward question, but how hypnotized am I, actually? I feel fine, but..."

"I think Lily's gotten so far in your head that you can't even tell how much any more. I'm sorry."

"...I suspected that might be the case."

"Do you want me to try and snap you out of it?"

"No. I have no desire to resist," he said, automatically.

Oh, this poor man.

She should save him. She should try to wake him up again. But she was exhausted, and knew how futile it would be. Even if she could make a dent in Lily's influence, she'd only just take him again. He was no doubt going to keep her up again all night with chanted mantras.

She felt selfish, heartless, but she'd been running her whole life. Running from her family, from her awful, alcohol soaked father, from abusive lovers, from poverty. And now it might actually be the end of the line, and she was so, so tired, and Oliver was so obviously a lost cause.

They both were. She was going to die down here in everything but the technical sense, giving her life for a vampire's pleasure. Few would miss her or even notice she was gone.

"They're bringing dinner now, Emily. I'd better get back in my cell," Oliver said. "And... I'm sorry that I can't help you. I really am."

"I'm sorry, too, Oliver."

Dinner arrived, and it was a heaping plate of roast turkey and gravy with mashed potatoes, peas, and a slice of apple pie, of all things. Imagine apple pie baked and served by vampires! It smelled heavenly and it was the largest meal they'd served yet. She couldn't help but be suspicious.

She knew that no matter how suspicious she was, she'd cave and eat it in a few minutes at most. She'd been hungry enough in her life that she couldn't bear not to eat hot, fresh food when it was right in front of her face, especially since it hadn't been drugged or poisoned up until now. She hated herself for how eagerly she ate the vampires' prison food, cleaning her plate every time, and that it was the best fed she'd been in ages.

This was no exception, the kind of meal she dreamed about on nights when she'd had to content herself with half a can of beans or a single mashed potato. At least if this was her last meal as herself, it was a decent one.

The lights snapped off, and she'd barely had enough time to brace herself before Oliver started up the mantras again. "Obedience is pleasure," he said, in a thick, drowsy voice. "No desire to resist. Too tired to resist. Hopeless to resist..."

Emily furrowed her brow. That seemed directly pointed at her. Lily was trying to wear her down, she just knew it. Whatever she did, she couldn't sleep tonight, couldn't let those thoughts be drilled into her brain.

She sat, and stared into the pitch black gloom, and tried to think of anything, anything at all. Old friends. New paints. A pint of cheap beer. Fall leaves. The view from the Oak Street Bridge.

Too tired to resist...

She was never getting out of here, was she?

She was so sleep deprived, and her stomach was comfortably full, and the cells were always kept warm...

She didn't realize it when her head began to nod, her thoughts swirling into nightmares of a vampire pinning her down and drinking from her neck, draining her energy and life, all the while Oliver's voice droned on about obedience.

And she didn't, at first, realize it when Oliver's droning voice mixed with Lily's.

"Obedience is pleasure. You're too tired to resist, Emily, much too tired," said a calm and soothing voice close by.

Emily stirred. She wasn't in her bed. She was being... held? Carried.

"Shhh, Emily, relax. Go back to sleep. You're so tired," said Lily. "And you're already under my spell. There's nothing to fight. Go back to sleep."

A nightmare? It had to be. "I'm not..." she protested, trying to wake up. Why was it so hard? She cracked her eyelids open. Lily was looking down at her while carrying her in her arms.

"Of course you are, dear. Even the most defiant human must sleep, and even the most defiant human mind is vulnerable while sleeping," she said, as though explaining to a child. "Sleep now, go back to sleep. You're too tired to resist."

This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be happening now. She felt herself slipping back into slumber against her will, clawing her consciousness back from the brink.

"You're not going to have me," she said, fighting the haze that threatened to swallow her.

"Oh, pet, I've subdued a hundred girls like you and I'll subdue a hundred more after," she said. "Now hush, and go back to sleep."

Part Fourteen >> Masterlist >> Part Sixteen

Thank you for reading this story about Emily.

Tag list - please note if you'd like to be added

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps

#whump #whump writing #whumpee #mind control #vampire #vampire whumper #tw kidnapping #captivity #rare bookseller #oliver #emily #lily

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yoomiwrites · 5 days ago

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Aromatic Rush⁵

Summary: Reader has an easy life in the navy. Until Aokiji comes to them with a mission that calls more into question than they thought.

Note: You know the rules — next chapter at friday or after 20 reactions :D

The door clicked shut behind Kuzan, and for a long moment, I just stood there, motionless. My heart was still hammering in my chest, and I felt the cold seeping into my bones—both from the room and from the lingering fear.

I couldn’t stay like this. I needed to move, to do something, anything, to break the tension that still clung to the air. With trembling hands, I walked over to the small control panel by the door and switched on the heating. The gentle hum of the system kicked in, and soon enough, warmth began to fill the space, slowly easing the chill from my body.

I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to calm down. My mind was still racing, replaying the scene with Tanaka over and over again. I could hardly believe it had happened. And yet, there was no denying the lingering scent of fear—his fear—that still hung faintly in the air. A part of me felt guilty for feeling relieved. If Kuzan hadn’t shown up when he did…

I shook the thought away, trying not to dwell on it.

The warmth from the heating was starting to work its way through the room, but my hands were still cold, trembling slightly from the adrenaline that hadn’t quite left my system. I sat down, trying to steady my breathing, when the door opened again with a soft creak.

I looked up, expecting to see Kuzan’s familiar figure—and there he was.

He stepped inside, the cold air that had followed him earlier now completely gone, replaced by something much warmer. In each hand, he carried a small cup, steam rising from both of them.

“Sorry about earlier,” he said casually, walking over as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “Didn’t mean to freeze the place over.”

I blinked, caught off guard by how… relaxed he seemed. Like he hadn’t just walked in on a near-disaster. Like he hadn’t just scared a man so badly that he wet himself. Kuzan was back to his usual self, calm and laid-back, his easy demeanor almost comforting in its consistency.

Without another word, he handed me one of the cups. I took it, feeling the welcome heat of the hot chocolate seep into my hands. The smell of cocoa filled the room, a stark contrast to the icy tension from moments ago.

“Thanks,” I murmured, grateful for the warmth. I took a small sip, letting the hot liquid soothe my nerves, even if only a little.

He sat down across from me, leaning back in his usual lazy way, the other cup resting in his hand. For a brief moment, there was silence. The warmth from the heating and the hot chocolate slowly pushed the cold from my mind, but the memory of what had just happened still lingered.

I swallowed hard, my voice quiet as I broke the silence. “I… I’m embarrassed,” I admitted, staring down at the cup in my hands. “I didn’t expect you, an admiral, to see me like that.”

Kuzan glanced at me, his expression unreadable for a second, before his lips quirked up in a small, lazy smile. “I see it more often than you’d think,” he said, his tone casual, as if he were talking about something mundane. But there was a seriousness beneath his words, a quiet anger simmering under the surface.

I looked up at him, surprised. “You do?”

He nodded, his gaze distant for a moment, as if he were recalling memories he didn’t particularly enjoy. “Yeah. Men thinking they can do whatever they want, take whatever they want from women. It’s disgusting.” His voice had grown colder again, but not in the way it had earlier. This was a controlled cold, a quiet anger kept in check. “I don’t tolerate it. Not like that. I like flirting, but not...like that.”

I didn’t know what to say. The tension from earlier had shifted, replaced by something heavier, something more serious. For all his laid-back attitude, there was something in Kuzan that ran deep—a sense of justice, maybe, or a fierce protectiveness. I had never seen him like this before.

Silence fell between us again, but this time it felt more like a pause than the awkward kind. I took another sip of the hot chocolate, the warmth now spreading through me fully.

I needed to change the subject. Something safer, something that didn’t make my heart race in a way I couldn’t quite explain.

Clearing my throat, I placed the cup down and sat up a little straighter. “I, uh… I did find something,” I said, my voice a little steadier now. “About the signal.”

Kuzan’s attention shifted immediately, his eyes sharpening with interest. “Oh?”

I nodded, glad to have something else to focus on. “It took a while to figure out, but I picked up a signal that’s been running parallel to our communications. It’s faint, but it’s there, like a shadow signal. It can intercept our transmissions, but… I don’t know where it’s coming from. I couldn’t trace it.”

His expression didn’t change, but I could see him processing the information. He leaned forward slightly, his cup resting on his knee. “A shadow signal, huh? You sure?”

“As sure as I can be,” I replied, my voice soft but certain. “It’s not one of ours, and it’s not coming from the equipment here. It’s being transmitted somewhere else, but I haven’t been able to pinpoint where.”

Kuzan was quiet for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. “Interesting,” he murmured, more to himself than to me. “So someone’s listening in.”

I nodded, my stomach tightening slightly. “It looks that way.”

He let out a slow breath, leaning back in his chair once more. His relaxed posture had returned, but there was a sharpness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Well, I guess that gives us something to work with.”

I felt a small surge of relief. At least I had found something. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

“Good work,” Kuzan said, his voice softer now, almost like he was speaking to himself. He took a long sip from his cup, then added, “It’s a start.”

I glanced at him, my cheeks still warm, though this time not from the hot chocolate. His presence, though calming in some ways, still made me feel unsettled, unsure of where I stood with him. He’d been so distant and then so close, protective but teasing. And now, he was back to his usual self—aloof, but present.

I swallowed, grateful for the distraction the work provided. “I’ll keep looking into it,” I said. “I just… wanted to update you.”

Kuzan gave me a slow nod, his eyes half-lidded again as he finished his hot chocolate. He glanced at me, and for a brief moment, there was something unreadable in his gaze. “You did good,” he repeated, this time with more finality. “But don’t push yourself too hard. I can handle the heavy stuff.”

I wanted to protest, to tell him that I could do more, but I held back. He had a way of making things seem lighter, even when they weren’t.

“Thanks,” I said quietly, feeling the weight of everything—Tanaka, the signal, Kuzan—settling in my chest.

He stood up then, stretching his arms above his head with a lazy yawn. “I’ll check in again soon,” he said, turning to the door. “Three days, hmm?”

I nodded. “Three days.”

With one last glance in my direction, Kuzan smirked. “Stay warm.”

And then he was gone, leaving me alone in the warm room, the empty cup of hot chocolate in my hands, and the lingering feeling that nothing about this situation was simple anymore.

2 days later.

It was one of those rare moments when I had enough time to sit down with my comrades for lunch. The canteen buzzed with the usual chatter, laughter, and clinking of plates. I sat at the far end of the table, picking at my food, half-listening to the conversations around me. My mind was still partly occupied with the signals I had discovered and the deadline Kuzan had set for me, but it was nice to be around familiar faces for a while.

That was, until the conversation took an unexpected turn.

“You heard about the rumor, right?” one of my colleagues, Rin, leaned in conspiratorially, her voice just loud enough for our group to hear.

“Rumor?” I asked, only half-paying attention as I poked at my rice.

“Yeah, apparently one of the high-ranking officials has something going on with Admiral Kizaru.” Rin raised her eyebrows suggestively, and the others at the table leaned in, eyes wide with interest.

I blinked. “With Admiral Kizaru?”

“Yeah, hard to believe, right?” another colleague, Sato, chimed in. “I mean, the guy’s an admiral. He could have anyone. Why would he be interested in someone from the lower ranks?”

Rin nodded. “Exactly! It’s not just the rank difference—it’s a whole different world. Admirals and regular employees? Not happening.”

I frowned slightly, something about the conversation tugging at my thoughts. “Why does that matter?” I asked, my voice quieter than I intended. “I mean… can’t you choose who you love?”

There was a brief silence as my friends turned their attention to me. Rin grinned mischievously, her eyes twinkling. “Well, look who’s suddenly an expert on admirals and love.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Sato jumped in, leaning forward with an exaggerated smirk. “Is that because you’re spending so much time with Admiral Kuzan lately?”

“What? No!” I sputtered, my face heating up instantly.

“Oh, come on,” Rin teased. “You’ve been holed up in that snail compartment with him for days! What’s really going on?”

The sudden focus on me made my cheeks burn even hotter. I could feel all their eyes on me, waiting for an answer, and the more I tried to think of something to say, the worse it got.

“There’s nothing going on!” I managed to stammer, waving my hands defensively. “He’s just… he’s just giving me work to do!”

“Is that what they call it now?” Sato smirked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Rin leaned in closer. “You did look pretty emotional last time we saw you. Too harsh in bed, maybe?”

The table erupted in laughter, but I could hardly hear it over the rush of blood in my ears. My whole face must have been beet red. “N-No!” I stuttered. “I wasn’t—I mean, it’s not like that at all! He’s just… he’s just…”

My mind scrambled for words, and in my panic, I blurted out the worst possible thing. “He’s quite handsome, but that's all…”

The silence that followed was instant and deafening. I blinked, confused as to why everyone had suddenly gone quiet. My face was burning, but I risked a glance around the table, expecting more teasing. Instead, my friends were frozen, their eyes wide, not looking at me—but past me.

Oh no.

Slowly, I turned in my seat, already dreading what I was about to see.

And there they were.

Kizaru and Kuzan stood just a few steps away from our table, both admiral coats flaring slightly as they walked past. Kizaru had that lazy, amused smile on his face, his long fingers tucked casually into his pockets. But it was Kuzan—his tall frame and familiar, unbothered expression—that made my stomach drop to my feet.

He was glancing down at me with that same cool, detached look, his expression unreadable. And then, as if the universe wanted to make my life even worse, he gave no indication that he’d heard a word, just walking on like nothing had happened.

Except for one thing: Kizaru chuckled, a low, amused sound that sent a wave of mortification crashing over me.

I wanted to melt into the floor.

Kuzan didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. He just walked on, his long strides carrying him further and further away, while Kizaru’s quiet laughter echoed in my ears.

I stared at the table, unable to look up, my hands gripping my fork so tightly that my knuckles turned white. The silence from my friends was even worse than the teasing.

“Oh… oh no,” I muttered, my voice barely a whisper. I had to be imagining things. There was no way Kuzan had heard that. Right?

But as I dared to glance back up at my friends, their wide eyes and stunned expressions told me all I needed to know.

Rin was the first to break the silence, her voice shaky with poorly suppressed laughter. “Well… this just got a whole lot more interesting.”

I woke up the next morning with a knot in my stomach that felt like it had been twisted too tightly. The memory of yesterday’s canteen debacle replayed in my head on an endless loop. Every time I thought about it, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment all over again. Kuzan had definitely heard everything. And worse, Kizaru had laughed, meaning he probably caught it, too. I felt like I’d never be able to face them again.

But, unfortunately, life didn’t work that way. I still had my job to do, and Kuzan was expecting results. So, swallowing my pride and trying not to think too hard about my own mortification, I headed into the HQ.

The day started off fairly normal. I tried to lose myself in my work—checking the snails, re-calibrating the new equipment, and avoiding eye contact with anyone who might have been in the canteen yesterday. Every time someone walked by, my heart would speed up, half-expecting to hear another comment about "handsome" admirals or worse, something about bed. I cringed every time it crossed my mind.

By mid-afternoon, I had managed to calm down somewhat. I had buried myself deep in a stack of snail reports when I heard the door open behind me.

I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The slight chill in the air and the lazy gait of his footsteps were unmistakable.

Kuzan.

I tensed immediately, every muscle in my body going rigid as I fought the urge to turn into a puddle of embarrassment. Maybe if I stayed really still, he’d just walk past without saying anything. Maybe he hadn’t heard as much as I thought. Maybe—

“Well, well…” His voice was low and amused, sending a shiver down my spine. “Someone’s been spreading rumors, huh?”

I froze, my heart sinking into my stomach. He definitely heard everything.

Slowly, painfully, I turned in my chair to face him. There he was, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed casually over his chest. That familiar lazy grin played at the corner of his lips, and his eyes—oh, those eyes—were practically sparkling with amusement.

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. All I could manage was a weak, “I… um…”

Kuzan pushed off the doorframe, taking a slow step closer. “You know, I didn’t take you for the type to talk about me behind my back.” His tone was playful, but the teasing edge was unmistakable. “Especially about… our supposed time in bed.”

My face flamed, turning what must’ve been the deepest shade of red imaginable. “Th-That’s not what I—”

“Oh, it’s not?” He interrupted, his voice dropping an octave as he stepped closer, towering over me now. “Because from what I remember, it was something about me being ‘too harsh’ in bed?” His grin widened, and I swore he was enjoying every second of this.

I felt like I was going to combust. My brain was scrambling to come up with something—anything—to explain, but nothing came out right. “I-I didn’t mean it like that!” I stammered, unable to meet his gaze. “They were just teasing, I—”

“Mm-hmm.” Kuzan didn’t seem convinced, his eyes narrowing slightly, clearly savoring my discomfort. He leaned down just enough to make me feel the weight of his presence. “And what about the part where you called me handsome?”

I froze, my mouth going dry. I had said that, hadn’t I? I cursed myself internally, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow me whole. “I-I didn’t mean… well, I mean…”

Kuzan chuckled softly, and the sound sent another wave of heat straight to my cheeks. “Don’t be shy now. You seemed pretty confident when you said it yesterday.”

“I wasn’t confident!” I blurted, feeling the words tumble out in a rush. “I was just… flustered! They were teasing me, and I didn’t know what to say, and—”

He tilted his head, smirking. “Flustered, huh? Interesting.”

I could feel my whole body trembling, my heart racing uncontrollably. He was too close. Too teasing. I didn’t know how to handle this. “Ad-Admiral,” I started, trying to salvage some sense of professionalism, “Can we… please not talk about this?”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by my attempt to regain composure. “But I’m having such a good time. It’s not every day someone calls me handsome and imagines our time in bed together.” He winked, his voice dripping with playful mischief.

I buried my face in my hands, groaning in mortification. “Please stop,” I mumbled, my voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean any of it like that.”

Kuzan chuckled again, the sound so soft and deep it practically vibrated through the air. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.”

I peeked up at him through my fingers, still red-faced and trembling slightly. His smirk hadn’t faded, but there was something gentler in his expression now—still teasing, but less predatory.

“You’re too easy to mess with,” he said, leaning back a little to give me some space. “The way you blush, the way you tremble…” He let his words linger, watching me carefully. “You make it hard to resist.”

I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice. “I… I just don’t know how to deal with it,” I admitted quietly, lowering my hands to my lap, though I still couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’m not used to this.”

Kuzan was silent for a moment, as if considering what I said. Then, to my surprise, he stepped back fully, his teasing smirk replaced with something softer. “Well, you should get used to it,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Because I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

My heart did a little flip at his words, but I didn’t know how to respond.

Kuzan, however, didn’t seem to expect an answer. He glanced at the papers I had been working on, nodding toward them. “Now, about that signal. How’s it going?”

Grateful for the change in topic, I scrambled to gather my thoughts, trying to push the embarrassment aside. “I… I think I’ve made some progress,” I said, clearing my throat. “But I still can’t track the source. It’s almost like it’s bouncing between locations.”

Kuzan nodded, looking thoughtful. “Hmm. That’s interesting.” He paused for a moment before giving me another teasing look. “Almost as interesting as you calling me handsome.”

I groaned again, covering my face with my hands. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Nope,” he said with a grin, clearly enjoying himself. “But don’t worry. I’ll try not to be too harsh.”

I felt my face heat up all over again. “I hate you.”

His laughter echoed through the room as he headed toward the door. “You’ll get over it.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving me alone with nothing but my flaming cheeks and the lingering sound of his teasing words.

#one piece x reader #one piece #aokiji kuzan

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herbeloved82 · 7 months ago

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Love through Time (Bed of roses and thorns)

Written with the amazing @complicitsacrilege we offer you a different couple this time....

I am Seth, the Golden Prince they called me a long time ago, when I was still a child in my naivety.

I was born in the lands of the great rivers, where life and prosperity were brought by the waters and the floods every year were celebrated as interventions from the gods themselves. I won’t say those lands’ names for all of you are too young to remember and the ancient pronunciation has been lost for millennia now.

I was the son of King Enkil and his Queen, Akasha. I was born to rule and trained to do so since I was old enough to walk. They were gods in the eyes of humans, as was I, despite being brought up in their shadows. I watched them conquer village after village, city after city, land after land, and I learned.

I learned many things about myself and what I was, what we all were. Enkil and Akasha had been mortals, once upon a time. Cursed to the blood by a powerful being who sought revenge for the one he loved.

Then they were monsters, blood drinkers, doomed to a half life only lived at night. They thrived in this new nature. Their innate cruelty finally fed by the new lust they discovered. The world was thrown into wars and chaos and they ruled upon it all.

They were mated.

Such a strange word to indicate the bond between souls. The power of a bond was, and still is, the most inexplicable of all the secrets my kind keep. So powerful that it can destroy the wall of silence between Master and fledgling, it is one of those things of which no one speaks freely.

When I was reborn, the secret was bestowed upon me: a new guardian for the most powerful weapon, one that could control even the strongest of us.

How I wished they never shared it with me. If I had been ignorant I wouldn’t have been foolish enough to look for the one creature born for me, and perhaps I wouldn’t have found him, and left him exposed to their violence.

I found my mate in a young physician who had cared for me when I was merely a prince with all the trappings of mortality.

Fareed, my Imi-ib. Beloved. That was his title. One I would have cherished for all eternity.

I loved him, and he loved me. We kept our love a secret, something precious and only for us. But then I was turned and the secret became even more dangerous to keep, and all the more important.

Until the night I lost everything.

Akasha found us, in a secret chamber and came with guards and fury in her eyes.

My beloved was taken from me that night. The things they did to him before he died in my arms I will never forget.

Just as I never forgot who took him from me.

They taught me that loyalty was rewarded with even deeper commission, but only the worst kind of revenge was reserved for betrayal. So I took everything from them, as they did to me.

They loved to be worshiped as gods, so I took them away, hid them in a magnificent golden temple that I buried in sand. So deeply no one would ever find them again. A grave where their bodies, now akin to statues, would be forever.

They loved power, and I took everything they had for myself. I expanded my kingdom through the lands of the whole earth.

One by one newborn kingdoms fell under my influence and power. There is no place I can’t reach. No man I can’t break, no ruler who hadn’t been destroyed by me.

I took their firstborns.

I took their thrones.

I took everything I wanted by the mere measure of my army and the fear that view inspires.

Of those boys and girls I always demanded as payment, some are now part of my army. Some are so old they are called children of the millennia, like I am. Some have been food for my men, and the others have been turned into objects for their entertainment.

The pain of my loss would have driven me to insanity eons ago otherwise, and I would have sought eternal refuge in the ground, leaving the world to pass on above.

So why do I still rule over these lands instead of rotting below?

The answer is simple.

Even if my kind was born from a curse, we were also given a second chance. Sometimes, when a bond is broken, there is a chance that what was once lost can again be returned.

Incarnated in another body, with another history and even another name, but we will always be able to recognize our mate.

That is why I am the one who remains.

#de romanus coven events #spring event #the vampire chronicles #Seth/Fareed

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cassieuncaged · 1 year ago

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Wild Inhibitions - Chapter 5

Chapter 4

Astarion Ancunín x Ilwyn Crowdancer

Summary: She was young, still learning to control her wild magic when Ilwyn was abducted by the mind flayers. Little did she know that revenge for her mother's death was imminent as well as an ill timed infatuation with a vampire.

TW: drinking, tipsy Shadowheart, flirting, angst, inexplicit sexual content (brief), mention of virginity, disassociating, language, etc.

WC: 3.7 K

Taglist: @confidentandgood, @galaxycunt, @euryalex, @inafieldofdaisies, @neonneurons, @roofgeese, @spacestephh

“What do you think they’re discussing?” Astarion sits begrudgingly beside the wizard atop crumbling walls. It offers the unfettered view of a babbling brook, the one where Ilwyn and Wyll currently sit.

“My mother always told me nosiness was unbecoming,” Gale chuckles, “I think it’s rather revealing.”

“Out with it, wizard,” he snaps in retaliation, “I’m far too exhausted to play games with you.”

“You may think me inexperienced myself, a middle aged wizard regaled by scrolls and dusty tomes,” Gale kicks his feet against the ledge, “But I’m not completely blind. You’ve taken a liking to her.”

“Don’t be so absurd,” Astarion pouts though his gaze drops when he sees Wyll push a wildflower behind a pointed ear, earning a giggle as shorn hair tips backwards.

“I don’t think it is,” he shrugs, following the eyeline of glistening rubies. “We’ve all grown rather protective of her yet hail her as our leader. It’s not impossible to become attached. Besides, we’ve all seen the teeth marks; she’s practically yours.”

“She’s not mine.” He sighs, crossing one foot over his knee, “Even if I wished her to be.”

“Is that what you wish?”

“It’s…complicated.” Astarion sighs, refusing to divulge too much information about himself to someone he hardly knows. Fear and confusion stirs inside him, mingling until his guts begin to clench. He’s started to suppress the feelings that bloom like a wilted rose coming back to life, what he’s tried to convince himself is purely lust. An emotion known all too well. Yet, this is deeper.

Ilwyn’s injury at the goblin camp cut him just as deeply, slicing into an undead heart that wasn’t supposed to feel anymore. It makes his plan all the more complicated. What good is seduction for protection if irrational emotions are attached?

Dark ruby eyes are drawn to the young sorceress and warlock as Wyll takes an alabaster hand into his own, soothing and kind, earning a sweet giggle that tinkles against the wind. Astarion thinks that the Blade of Frontiers would be a better partner: caring and thoughtful with an affinity for the arcane; they'd have plenty in common. Pangs of jealousy erupt from his chest as Ilwyn seems completely at ease, at least from their current vantage point. She’s always kept herself naturally guarded and secured when around the rather combative vampire.

Suddenly, a large hand claps the shoulder of a velvet doublet.

“I’m all ears if you’d like to discuss anything.” Gale offers kindly, misreading the company nestled beside him as the gentle touch is shrugged off. “Or maybe you’d enjoy some time to yourself before the festivities?”

“Shit.” The damned tieflings would be storming their camp in mere hours, likely toting their out of key songstress and thieving children. “Let’s be off then; I’d rather scatter before the other realizes they’ve been kept under such scrutiny.”

Gale allows Astarion to amble down the rickety ladder first, smirking as he sees a head of copper waves flit back, the young elf hoping her own gawking had gone unnoticed.

......

The celebration is mild yet uplifting, giving the tieflings and their own mismatched band of companions a light moment in spite of the hells they’ve all literally been through. Ilwyn settles a safe distance beside Karlach on an unrolled blanket, Shadowheart drunkenly leaning into the elf’s side while the other two attempt to beat Mol at a card game. The young grifter made up the rules as she went, though the group played along before the girl became bored and scampered off with Scratch at her heels.

“Finally,” Karlach stretches out, amber eyes scanning their surroundings before attempting her best whisper, “Either of you found someone to ride til you’re sore?”

“Karlach,” Ilwyn chides, running a hand nervously through shorn hair as a blush rises up full cheeks. “There’s children near.”

“One,” a single red finger is held up, as if proving a point, “There’s one kid here and she ran over to play in the damned ruins.”

“And I’m sure she heard you seeing as your voice probably carries all the way to Amn.” Shadowheart snorts, taking another sip of delightfully bitter wine. The hulking barbarian chucks the cork in the woman’s direction, squealing when it lands in the tarnished chalice. “Excuse me for stating the truth. But to put it bluntly, I’ll be bedding alone.”

“What? Shar doesn’t allow for a wily fuck every now and again?” The woman is refreshingly honest though Ilwyn can’t fight the tomato redness that imbues every fiber of her being; after all, it’s only a matter of time before she’ll be analyzed.

“If you must know,” Shadowheart pushes herself upright, stoicism broken by a playful smirk. “I don’t find anyone here really deserving of sharing my body for the night. I prefer the company of the bottle. Who’d be bedding you if they wouldn’t be ash by daybreak?”

“If my right hand wasn’t getting lucky tonight, I’d like to pursue Wyll. With those devilish horns and that unshaken confidence, I’d let him bend me over anytime he likes.” A pearly canine digs into a maroon lip as the other two erupt in a wave of laughter, though no one pays them any mind. Alfira continues to strum on her lute while Rolan has attracted a crowded to display his newly learned spells to. “What about you, Ilwyn? Anyone you’ll get absolutely destroyed by?”

“Such a way with words, my friend.” The red head mutters, burying her face in the knees clutched to her chest, “I’ll likely retreat to my tent and fall asleep. Alone.”

“Even with all the attention you’ve garnered?” A dark brow raises as the cleric abandons her glass in favor of supping straight from the bottle. “You have your pick of the lot. Not to mention the fact that the druid and vampire have been stealing glances all night.”

“Oooh, you could be in the middle of a damned sandwich!” Karlach’s fist collides with the ground wishing she had such an opportunity awaiting her in the middle of the night. Ilwyn could feel their eyes on her all evening. And while Halsin had regretfully declined, she’d been actively avoiding Astarion.

“If I were a betting woman,” Shadowheart began, “I’d assume the vampire will be sharing your bed tonight.”

“Why do you say that?”

“The brand in your throat is pretty self-explanatory.” Ilwyn’s fingers mindlessly drift up to the red pinpricks dug into her neck, never healing completely and likely beginning to scar. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about what it’d feel like, to be taken by him. In fact, there were many nights she only pretended to sleep when her tent was intruded, enjoying the way his body covered her own, tongue gently lapping at sensitive skin…

“The man despises me,” she admits, “Everything I do infuriates him. Helping innocents, saving children…”

“Just because he’s a bastard doesn’t mean he’s opposed to a shag.” Karlach shrugs before the subject is finally changed. Ilwyn keeps her cards held close to her chest, not admitting her innocence to anyone, not yet prepared for such a conversation. Finally, she allows herself a quick glance in his direction. Those liquid ruby eyes are on hers instantly, curls flopping impishly as his head tilts to one side, lips gathered in an amused smirk before his gaze drifts away, taking a swig of wine before wincing.

She can feel her heart thrum, her loins burn. The tadpole doesn’t even need to compel her to him, there’s just a magnetic pull that does so naturally. Or maybe unnaturally. Finally, the young elf excuses herself and slowly ambles toward Astarion, rolling her hips unsubtly. He arches a brow, thoroughly amused at her attempt to shed such a meek demeanor.

“There you are, my dear.” His voice is soft as velvet, caressing her pointed ears, “I was wondering when you’d come to pay me a visit. Gods, anything to take my mind off this putrid wine.”

“Can’t be all bad, can it?” she boldly takes the bottle from lithe fingers, wincing when the bitter liquid hits her lips, “We saved a lot of lives today. Doesn’t that jostle your cold heart?”

No one was ever there to save me.

“Ahh, that absolutely charmless ‘do-goodedness’ that you’re oh blatant about.” His internal thoughts are ignored, enjoying how she bristles beneath his sharp tongue. “Does it ever get boring? Saving the gods damned day?”

“Why exactly did you expect me to meander over?” her eyes grow watery, wondering what she did to deserve his acute dislike. “A rampant tongue lashing?”

“Versed in double entendres, I see,” the vampire suppresses a chuckle when he notices how her brows knit together; she doesn’t understand the double meaning. “I owe you an apology. You didn’t mean to morph me into a goose. I shouldn’t have yelled at you the way I did. It was uncouth.”

“That’s kind of you,” she admits sheepishly, ready to be chided once more. “My arcane powers are still rather…rusty. Here in the wilds is the first time I’ve ever needed them. At least to this extent.”

“You’ve spent the first two decades of your life poring over books and praying to Silvanus, haven’t you?” he arches a brow before snatching the potent wine back.

“You forget that my time on Toril has been short.” There’s that blush again, rising up her neck. Astarion can practically taste the blood thrumming in her veins as that sweet little heart of hers beats faster and faster yet. What a delicious morsel to bend and shape as he needs. As he wants.

“There was never a streak of rebellion that surged through you?” he steps closer, gently pulling her wrist into his hand. Ilwyn is feverish to the touch, relishing the iciness that permeates those long fingers.

“No,” she glances upwards, eyes enraptured by his own. Dark, captivating, wanting. She squeezes her thighs together, wondering what he’d feel like nestled between them. Kisses pressed against her jugular as he thrusted in a slow yet deep pace, a symphony of their sighs dancing in the trees. It was…an overwhelming thought.

“Your eyes,” his voice was soft, lips twitching upwards into a genuine smile. “They’re brighter than all the moonstones in Evereska.”

It’s then that Ilwyn can feel an unrelenting gaze boring into her skull. Turning swiftly reveals Karlach and Shadowheart huddled with Alfira and Lakrissa, giggling girlishly when she looks over.

This was a mistake.

“I think I should retire for the evening,” attempting to move away is impossible as he holds her in place. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“Would you reconsider my company? Afterall, I’d be willing to bet you could use something to help unwind.” There’s something so delicate and sensual about his voice, cutting directly to her core.

“Something?” she parrots awkwardly before steeling herself, “Care to elaborate?”

“Sex, my sweet. Carnal passion.” he explains smoothly, “Would you be opposed to stealing off when the festivities die down? Away from prying eyes?”

“With me?” she’s flabbergasted, absolutely shocked by such a proposition. Ilwyn’s heart thuds like a caged bird, screaming to be released. “Why? You could have anyone.”

“I’m rather taken by you,” Astarion feigns coquettishness, threading one hand through snowy curls. “There’s nothing more I’d enjoy than seeing you spread out on your back, bared for only me.”

“Gods above,” she sighs, attempting to ignore the throbbing between her thighs. “Where will we go?”

“There’s this rather nice clearing in the forest where we can be as loud as we want as we get truly lost in each other.”

“I’ll find you.”

“Then I’ll see you there, lover.”

......

Moonbeams filter down through the thicket of trees, bracketing a dewy bed of grass that’s inviting and untouched. Finding the meadow had been easy enough, leaving Astarion to peel off his tunic and leer from behind the rugged bark of a billowing tree. A large hand traces the grooves of the trunk, attempting to avoid the knot that winds in his gut. There’s little Astarion takes less pleasure in than sex, drifting through the motions like a ghost upon a foggy moor; it's always an unchanging means to an end.

Why should this be any different?

The thought is prescient upon waiting, leaving the man feeling more vulnerable than ever preferred. Breath is heavy in his throat, tight and restricted as he considers the tactical alliance so meticulously devised. He can’t fuck himself into safety if the damned woman doesn’t materialize. The vampire spawn considers returning to camp alone when the snap of a twig echoes through the trees as nervous footsteps fumble forward. Ilwyns breathing falters as she closes in, earning a smirk lost upon the shadows. Constellations glitter above the elves, offering a romantic ambiance.

“There you are,” Astarion swivels into view on a lovely, cobbled boot, shoulders squared and chest bare. ”I’ve been waiting for you; waiting to have you.”

A freckled hand snakes its way through a mop of shorn copper, clearly trembling as she approaches. That sweet blood pulses from beneath blushing skin, pounding in his ears. Though the rapid cadence is one of nervousness and not desire. So the vampire glides closer to where the woman hugs herself, drenched by glimmering moonbeams. Her eyes snap up the visage before her, utter;y beguiled by his beauty. Snowy curls look like spun silver beneath the canvas of stars, pale skin lustrous as pearls. Though there’s a strange vacancy that begins to glaze over ruby eyes.

“No need to be frightened, my dear,” a large hand closes around her wrist, pulling warm fingers to flatten against the hard plane of one pectoral. For a moment, the only sound is the young elf’s hushed breathing mingled with a chorus of crickets. She caresses soft skin, delighting in the iciness that permeates his body, not unlike his mouth on the nights he sups at her throat. Her other hand joins its twin, delicately tracing patterns up prominent clavicles to the marred skin of his neck, dancing across a pronged scar. He stiffens suddenly, pulling back briefly, “As much as I love this…exploration, I’m finding myself to be ravenous.”

“Of course,” the red head nods before as she begins untying the laces of her tunic. Astarion cocks his head, feeling a creeping sensation of guilt. Their ‘fearless leader’ has retreated into herself, barely speaking as small hands sheepishly fall to the hem of her blouse. He intervenes by snaking an arm around the small of her back, pulling their hips flush together.

“Actually,” one lithe finger tilts her chin back, drowning in a pool bright blue gaze that shimmers in the dark. Wide as the eyes of a doe though there’s a unmistakable flicker of lust. “I thought we would delight in undressing each other.”

“I’d like that,” full pink lips curl into a grin. Astarion can feel himself beginning to drift, fighting the sensation as he brings his mouth tenderly to hers. This was an orchestration, a performance, the machination for provided safety. So they move in a delicate tango, gently suckling and nipping between ragged breathing as the kiss deepened. He needs more, cold tongue swiping against the seam of warm lips as she shyly grants him access, sloppily meeting his strokes as their tongues lance. And he enjoys this entanglement, delighting in her sweetness. Ilwyn tastes of sun ripened berries and fresh honeycomb. What a delicacy that’s wrapped in strong arms, sweet and whimpering as his growing erection ruts against her clothed mound. Then nimble fingers work hastily, peeling her tunic off before it’s cast to the ground. No brassiere is worn, breasts bare as rosy peaks harden from the night’s nipping breeze. A large hand massages one sensitive mound, flicking the bud with the tip of his thumb. Her head lolls back, a restrained moan escaping her.

“What an absolute treat you are,” he buries a sharp nose in the crook of her neck, tongue tracing the freckles that dot the ever-healing bite emblazoning soft skin. “So…innocent.”

Her back igoes rigid at the word, as though it’s any revelation. Brows are plastered together as Astarion does nothing to hide his smirk. Her current state is invigorating: hair messy, lips swollen. His cock twitches at the sight, inhaling her arousal that hangs heavy in the air.

“Who’s to say I’m innocent?” the younger elf pants.

“The way you fumble and are so eager to please,” he breathes, pecking those lips once more, enjoying the way her chest molds against his own. “It’s adorable.”

“This was a mistake,” she suddenly pushes away, covering her chest with long arms. It’s then that he notices the freckles dotting her bare torso the same as her face and neck, how he wishes to count each with the tip of his tongue, creating new constellations as he went. “I should dress and return to camp.”

“I didn’t mean to offend,” the plan is beginning to unravel, so he hurries to Ilwyn’s side, stroking one shoulder. He needs her to fall into his web, a fly thrashing in the web he’s spun so delicately. “Your virtue is oddly…endearing. And, if you trust me, I’ll deflower you so gently and wholly.”

Her eyes flutter close as he circles her, pressing his chest to a bare back as his mouth comes to rest against a pointed ear. His hand settles heavily on a rounded shoulder while the other comes to clutch at her clothed pussy, earning a surprised whimper as chill shoots up her spine.

“Gods, you’re so warm.” He traces the line of her slit, delighted and repulsed in equal parts. She feels so perfect pressed against his walking corpse of a body. And for a moment, the idea of being buried deeply inside the little sorceress makes his guts flutter. He clutches her almost possessively, dragging the ridge of his nose into the soft tresses of copper hair. Sweat and the musk of nature lingers, making him ready to devour.

“You’ll be gentle?” she whispers, allowing one hand to pull back and wrap into bouncy curls as he suddenly ceases to move.

You’ll be gentle?

It’s not the first time he’s taken another’s virginity, making his gut churn. That familiar sinking feeling returns as he’s reminded of the others. How they clung to him so needily, his name on their lips like a prayer, awkward yet willing to bask in such new pleasure. Then the cries of shame and fear when Cazador inevitably ripped them from his side. Some even wept for him, watching helplessly while he did nothing.

In another world, you’d be taking this one back to the palace too…

The words swirl in his head when a voice tethers him firmly in reality once more.

“Astarion?” his name is breathy on those sweet lips, laced with a nervousness as she spins in his arms, finding his troubled gaze as a soft palm danced across the hard line of his jaw. “Are you alright?”

“Sorry, I got lost in the moment,” it’s a simple lie that she accepts instantly, enjoying how he nuzzles into her touch, pressing an open-mouthed kiss there. “Shall we get more comfortable?”

“Please,” that small hand drifts south before settling on the bulge hidden beneath leather breeches. She feels him twitch beneath her, salivating at the thought of being filled to the brim. Though there’s an undeniable wriggling in her skull, it isn’t the parasite. No, fear nags at her vehemently. The vampire kisses the inside of a tender wrist, looking up for permission before Ilwyn nods. Fangs bury in a shallow vein as he suckles gently against as long fingers continue to curl against an angular face. Heat begins to radiate lightly from the body pressed against her as they both work to remove their bottoms and remaining small clothes.

He lays her gently against a dusky bed of grass, covering that alabaster body like a shadow. The head of his cock snags against her navel as he adjusts his position, groaning at the friction. But Ilwyn doesn’t moan as wide hips cradle toned thighs. In fact, she winces. Before Astarion can even begin to float from the task at hand, he’s pushing a lock of hair from a clammy brow.

“Are you alright?” he presses a reassuring kiss to a bare shoulder as she begins to tremble beneath him, eyes misty as a singular tear races down a pink cheek.

“I’m…I’m not ready.” She admits, voice small and scared. It feels rushed. It feels ingenuine. It feels wrong.

“Of course,” he nods against her before settling back on his haunches, hands spreading across either pliant thigh. A pang of relief surges through him though fear equally envelopes him at the same time. “Are you alright?”

“With everything going on…” her voice trails away as she crawls onto wobbling elbows. “I know perfect doesn’t exist, but this isn’t ideal. I’m sorry.”

This is…unexpected. Over the last two centuries, Astarion can’t remember his charms failing, being refused by a target. He wants anger to consume, to reclothe and disappear into the forest until dawn. But a foreign sensation bubbles up inside, a mixture of compassion and pity. They silently dress as they both will arousal away, feeling strange in a myriad of different ways. But when he expects her to leave, she settles back onto the patch sod she was splayed upon mere moments ago. He joins her, attention snagged by the glittering stars above.

“I enjoy your company,” she blurts out, not seeing as the man wrinkles his nose. He saved himself another performance. Why does he feel terrible? Guilty even? “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you, ‘Starion.”

“Don’t run across many monsters?” he chuckles darkly.

“You’re not a monster,” that warm hand snakes to cover his own. He wants to pull away but…doesn’t. “Not anymore than the rest of us.”

And he wants to correct her. Tell her how gods damned wrong she is, how he destroyed the lives of so many. But he can’t. All he wants in the moment is to be held by the woman who so foolishly trusts him.

Against his better judgment, he allows his thumb to run against the ridge of one knuckle, attempting to quell jumping nerves.

#bg3 fanfiction #astarion x oc #astarion x tav #fanfiction #otp: every last drop

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