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astarionancuntnin · 1 month ago

Text

Remember Me

summary: you cant make sense of where you are or even how you ended up in this cell, hells, you're not even sure of who you are at this point; any memories of your past are a blur. its all the more confusing when a group of adventurers come rescue you, and a particularly worried pale elf takes it upon himself to help you remember who you are.

rating: E

word count: 7k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader, reader is tav)

cw: 18+. angst, act 3 spoilers related to astarion's side quest, mentions of kidnaping and torture, memory loss, blood feeding, vampire bites, smut, oral (f!receiving), p in v, The Leg Thing followed by mating press, sweet love making, love confession. full list on ao3

a/n: loosely based on this audio (18+) from OGY.

read on ao3

my masterlist

or keep reading down below~

Pain.

It’s the first thing that hit you when your consciousness came back to you.

How much everything fucking hurt.

Your entire body felt as if it had gone through the nine Hells, all at once; you could barely find the strength in yourself to get to your feet, let alone push yourself off the ground.

Then it was the disarray when you couldn’t place what had happened for you to feel so awful.

It was as if you had woken up from a long sleep; distant voices in your head, blurry faces merging together when you closed your eyes, and an awful feeling of emptiness, as if you had forgotten something extremely important but you couldn’t put your finger on it, no matter how much you thought about it.

Nothing but endless darkness.

As much as you tried to remember your life, anything before this moment, you were met with a dark fog clouding your vision. Your family, your friends — if you even had any — had all vanished from your memory. You think you remember yourself, for the most part, but even that was a stretch; you couldn’t even remember your own bloody name.

You look around you, realising for the first time that you were in a prison cell. The course of events after waking up in this dark cell hadn’t helped; the sudden cold inhabiting you, followed by this man — this monster — barging in without as much as a warning before pushing you face first against the ground and ripping open your shirt, to then torture you as he carved your back with his knife, only to leave as suddenly as he had appeared. Barely a few words exchanged, aside from some mumbling about teaching “him” a lesson, whoever that was, and you were alone once again.

Alone, with nothing but this seething pain in your back from the butchery you had gone through, the hunger digging into your belly, and your blood leaking from your shivering form, pooling around you on the cold, hard floor.

You barely had the time to gather your thoughts when the same man came back barely minutes later to carry you out of your cell and into a larger room — keeping you restrained with some magic that visibly came from his staff — where more people waited.

By the looks of it, you had been right on one thing: this was indeed a dungeon, and you were located in the deepest part of them; this room contained only a round, rock platform, located above an endless, foggy pit.

In the state you were in, you couldn’t catch everything he said as he went on a monologue. Something about powers, freedom; whatever it was, they needed you to achieve it, that was the only thing that was clear from his speech. You couldn’t understand how any of them would follow a maniac like him, but in their eyes you noticed how they listened to his words with as much fear as awe.

Your form was shivering from the cold; you wanted to cover up your top which had been previously ripped off from your body, but it was all in vain: the restraints of his magic kept you in place, and right after his speech, you were sent flying over a designated spot floating above the ground, just like all the six other people that had surrounded you previously.

Your arms remained bound to your sides by whatever spell this monster had cast on you, leaving your chest exposed to the damp, cool air of this dungeon, and your fresh wound stinging evermore at your back.

You remember the panic tightening in your chest when you realised you couldn't escape. You remember the brief relief, hope even, at the sight of a group of adventurers approaching — one of the figures shouting at the man in the middle of the room — followed by explosions and screams. Then the fear settled in when you saw them execute one of the other unfortunate souls magically held floating around this room, one new truth forming in your mind.

They weren’t here to save you.

You would be next. They would kill you. You would die here.

The pressure in your chest grew tighter as you closed your eyes and mourned your life, one you didn’t even remember experiencing, one that — you hope — had been full of adventures, of acquaintances… of love.

This last one must’ve been true. You remember being loved — more so how it felt, even if the feeling seemed so far and long ago. You remember the butterflies in your belly, the fluster in your heart, the heat between your legs; you remember just enough to know that if you died today, at least, you would’ve died as someone who had been loved.

You didn’t expect your feet to touch the cold hard ground once more. You remember falling to your knees, your body exhausted by the abuse it had gone through in just the last few hours. You remember your dry throat when you noticed the butchered corpse in the middle of the room, barely recognizable anymore.

“Gods… what has he done to you?”

But you couldn’t seem to place the face of your saviour. The bloodied, silver curled elf who had rushed to kneel next to you after defeating your captor, who approached you and held your face so carefully.

How those crimson eyes of his had widened in horror when you flinched at his touch and backed away.

Him and his group had killed one of you who stood in this circle, who’s to say he wasn’t here to finish the job? Lure you in with a sweet touch only to snap your head off; you knew better than to let yourself fall for the first man to approach you.

“Darling, it’s over now.” He had said with his voice low, getting back on his feet to approach you as if you were an injured beast, “Just take my hand, we’re getting out of here.”

You didn’t know whether to feel insulted or reassured by his assertiveness, but you remained frozen in place, your eyes switching from the hand extended out to you and his severe look that you reciprocated with a frown to hide your terror.

“Look,” he sneered, “you can either take my hand, come with me out of this hellhole, or rot away in this godsforsaken—”

From behind him, someone from his group called out a name which stopped him mid-sentence just as his tone was rising.

“Astarion.”

A name that felt oddly familiar, despite the void in your memories. It danced beautifully as it echoed across the room and around your mind; there was something about it that just sounded right.

Astarion. A name worthy of being written in the stars, you find yourself thinking, the sound of it bringing you a familiar sense of peace, of security.

Astarion. Maybe if you repeated it enough in your head, something clearer would come up. Maybe, just maybe, then you would remember.

He took a deep breath and continued, which brought you back from your reverie, “I’m quite certain you went through the Hells and back, but for now, I’ll have to ask you to trust me, just as you’ve done in the past. Can you do that for me?”

He extended out his hand once more, this time a request rather than a command, his voice carrying out his concerns, “Can you trust me?”

“Why would I trust someone I’ve just met?” You wanted to ask, but something about the way he asked struck a chord, as if you did know him. As if you knew he spoke true when he said you used to trust him, and you finally accepted the hand he held out to you.

A hand that pulled you to your feet, and guided you out of this dreadful place.

You were given a cloak to cover your shivering form, and you walked along with them back to their camp. Back to this intriguing, yet charming man’s tent, where they all agreed you should rest for the night.

The first thing that hit you when you stepped in was the smell.

You didn’t know what it was exactly, you couldn’t recognize it, but it was intoxicating; it only made your stomach churn more. As the adrenaline of the previous hour settled down, you fell to your knees, grabbing onto your waist as the pain that had been muted came back screaming through your guts.

“Shit—” He rushed down to check on you, with one hand down your back, holding onto you, “Darling, talk to me, what’s wrong?”

“What isn’t wrong?! I was tortured, starved off, almost sacrificed for all I know, and I can’t even remember who I fucking am!” Is what you wanted to say, but all you could manage out is a groan in the middle of your sobs.

When you lifted your head, your eyes fell onto the set of messily arranged bottles from where the strong smell came from, and a quick exchange of glances told him everything he needed to know.

“Of course, you’re hungry,” He sighed heavily, "Look, I’ll gladly offer you some from my own reserves — after I’ve taken a look at your wounds.”

You had almost forgotten about them.

You averted your eyes from his gaze, your mind now racing as you expected the worst. You had no way to see what had been done to your back, but the pain you had gone through was a good indicator of how bad it would look.

Met with your silence, he continued, “I need… to see what he’s done to you. Please.”

Your eyes went back and forth between him and the dark bottles briefly considering pouncing on them to get a taste as your mouth watered in anticipation, but you reluctantly turned your back to him as you sat with your legs pressed back into your stomach, barely helping mitigate the pain in your stomach.

As you let the cloak fall from your shoulders, you heard nothing but a shaky, deflated sigh behind you. Seconds of silence passed before you considered turning around, but a part of you was terrified of the look you would find on his face.

You finally found the strength to utter your first words.

“Is it… that bad?” Your voice was rough from neglect, as the last time you had used it had been to scream when you received this torture.

You heard him take a deep breath, shaking away the shock that had previously rendered him speechless, “You must’ve already known what he carved away in your back. Hells, I knew before even looking, but seeing it…” he pauses, his tone quieting, “seeing it is another story completely.”

“I… I don’t know,” you muster with a weak voice. It's true, you had no idea, he had carved your damn back, you had no way to see the extent of his torture.

He took a deep breath, shaking away the feelings that had sneaked their way into his voice, “It’s no matter, it’s over now; Cazador is dead. He won’t hurt—” he paused, as if processing the information himself, “Anyone, ever again.”

You turned around to face him this time, “Who’s Cazador?”

He huffed, “I’m glad it was that easy for you to forget about him, but when you’ve suffered under his hand for nearly two centuries, the memories tend to linger.”

You remained silent as you stared at him, just as shocked as you were confused by his words. When he noticed your stare, his face twisted in concern, “Oh shit, you’re serious.”

You nodded silently.

He continued, tentatively, “He was my master, he’s the one we killed back in the dungeons — the one who abducted you, who did this to you. Do you not remember any of this?”

You shook your head slightly, never leaving his gaze.

“Oh dear.” His voice dropped as his eyebrows raised and his eyes widened all at once, “Do you remember anything at all — the absolute, our adventure… Do you remember… me?”

His eyes went back and forth between yours, as if he was searching them for any sign of recognition, looking for you, whoever you were behind those confused, teary eyes. You gave him another shy shake of your head, followed by a single tear coming down your cheek, a tear you weren’t sure why it was shed; whether it was from the loss of yourself, or the mourning of something you didn’t even remember having.

“Gods…” He breathed out heavily as his sight left you, his mind visibly ruminating. “He can’t… He couldn’t have… He…”

His tone suddenly changed as he growled, “That monster.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head before looking back at you, “You were with us just yesterday. You were — are this group’s leader. If… If you have no memories of your mortal life then it means…” he looked away, frowning, “He rushed your transformation to replace me in the ritual.”

None of the words he had said made any sense to you, “Transformation?”

He turned back to you to be met with your visible confusion, and he explained further, “Normally, when you’re turned, you need to be drained of your blood and buried six feet underground, before you can crawl out of your tomb to be reborn. This process takes a day, usually, and when you awaken, you are still you, but immortal and bound to your master,” he spat out the last word like it left a bitter aftertaste on his tongue.

“Now you,” he continues, “you were turned within twelve hours, which would explain why your eyes are only half red, why your fangs haven’t come out yet, and…” his voice quieted down, “why you have no memories of your past. As if the rushed transformation had actually killed this part of you along with your humanity.”

You remained focused on the first thing he had said: your eyes had changed colour?

You hadn’t had the chance to look at yourself since your awakening and if not remembering your name wasn’t anxiety inducing enough, you realised you couldn’t even recall what you looked like.

All of a sudden, panic rushed its way into your heart; you needed to see yourself. You frantically looked around the tent to find anything that could send back your reflection and practically jumped on the pocket mirror when you spotted it nearby Astarion.

Only the mirror was broken. It must’ve been; it reflected nothing.

“If that wasn’t obvious by now, this should’ve clarified things a bit,” he said.

He lowered the mirror you still held in front of you, expecting your image to be reflected eventually, maybe at a different angle, maybe with more light. Maybe another one would, maybe you were just delirious from everything that had happened only today.

“You’re a vampire now. No matter the angle, you’ll never see your reflection come out of this mirror. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

Vampire.

The word didn’t make sense; nothing made sense.

Yet, when you parted your lips to let your tongue run against your teeth; you found your canines the same size they were, that they should’ve been, but they were much sharper than what would be considered normal and you almost pierced your tongue from the gesture.

“Maybe…” he carried on, lost in thought, “there’s even a chance that the tadpole has been messing around with more of the changes your body is going through.”

“Tadpole?” You interjected, your head shaking of its own in disbelief. “What?”

He huffed in astonishment, “So you really do remember nothing.”

You sighed, “I— I don’t… As much as I try, I’m met with a void of memories. The only thing remotely familiar since I woke up has been… you.” His eyes had gone soft and bright with hope, but also melancholy. “I don’t know who you were to me, and I don’t know why, but some part of me knew I could trust you.”

He chuckled, a sad smile finding its way over his lips, “Even with your memories gone, it seems I can’t leave your mind, can I?”

You gave him a smile of your own, “Would you mind… reminding me of my life? Of us?”

“Gods, where to start, darling. Would you believe me if I told you our story began with me holding a knife to your throat?”

You found yourself smiling unconsciously, “With everything that's happened to me in the last few hours, I find that easy to believe.”

“And strangely enough it's probably the least odd part of our story.” He tilted his head, giving you a genuine smile before carrying on.

“It’s all tedious, really, but… There’s one memory I want to tell you about: The night of the tiefling party. Ugh, it was dreadful for the most part; the wine tasted like vinegar, the music was too loud, and there were too many of those bloody tieflings at our camp, to be quite sincere— “

“Not a people’s person I take it?”

“My dear, after years of being forced on and by people, the last thing you want is to be surrounded by more of them.” The sight of you parting your lips and raising your eyebrows told him you had also forgotten about this and he quickly caught onto it, changing the direction of the discussion back to the topic at hand. “But, there was one good thing that came out from this night: when we met in the woods. I had high hopes of you joining me there — although no doubts, of course — I was the most suitable option among our group after all.”

“Most suitable? Someone else wanted to spend the night with… me?”

“Darling, the whole world and their mother wanted a special moment with you. But only one of us got that honour. A chance to steal away with everyone’s new favourite leader.”

The faint sounds of the party fading: music echoing through the forest, people laughing, the cool air of a summer’s night breezing through, and good company throughout the night.

“I have been waiting for you. Waiting since the moment I first saw you. Waiting… to have you.”

You blinked, “You… were waiting for me in the woods, I’m— I’m remembering.”

“I did put a lot of effort into my entrance, I would be upset if you didn't remember it quite honestly.” You laughed softly. “Do you remember what happened afterwards?”

Your eyes roamed as you pushed the memory further, before you lifted your head to meet his gaze, “You… kissed me.”

“After you had the audacity to say I didn't have you yet while you had come to me of your own volition, yes, and then?”

You chuckled, but your smile quickly faded as your memory unlocked the next part of this puzzle. He looked at you with a knowing glint in his eyes; he was simply waiting for you to say it yourself.

“We made love.”

He sighed dramatically, “Love is such a big word for what happened back then, but…” his tongue clicked, accentuating the end of the word, “That was certainly the start of it. The start of a series of feelings that came and complicated everything. It’s what pushed me, soon after, to confess to you that it was all part of a silly plan I had to keep you in my favour. I was terrified, honestly, especially considering it was all because I initially manipulated you to fall for me…”

He paused, searching your expression before carrying on, and continued when he found nothing but soft eyes looking back. “But then — despite everything — there you were, holding me tight.”

He let go of a deep breath.

“For so long I had nothing — no one. And all of a sudden, there’s you, who held onto me, who cared so much more than anyone ever did. And I found myself not wanting to let go. I couldn't.”

He frowned, turning his gaze away, “And Cazador used that against me. As soon as he had word of my whereabouts in Baldur’s Gate and the crowd I was hanging out with, he jumped at the first chance to torture me once more. He probably thought I was unaffected by any physical pain he could impose on me by now, so he did the next worst thing: take it out on the one person I cared about in this wretched world.” He shook his head, “If we hadn’t gotten there in time—”

“But you did.” You interrupt. “You saved me and yourself in the process. This ritual wouldn’t have given you the freedom you think it carried.”

His eyes lit up, “You talk as if you knew what it entailed.”

You nodded, “It’s coming back to me, bit by bit. I remember what you told me about him. I remember the purpose of the ritual, and your plan to replace him and take his power instead.”

He sighed, “Gale thought brilliant to kill one of my brothers to stop Cazador from carrying on with the ritual. Bloody wizard didn’t realise it meant I couldn’t continue it myself then.

“Maybe he did.” His gaze flickered back to you in confusion before you continued, “You don’t need satanic powers to carry on, Astarion. You’re free now.”

He huffed, “And all it cost was my life in the sun.”

“Well,” you tilted your head, “It did cost me mine too. Once the tadpoles are gone, we’ll both be banished to the shadows once again. But we’ll be together, and that’s something at least.”

He rolled his eyes before landing them on you, “At least the transformation didn’t take away from your heartbleeding optimism, dear.”

You chuckled, “Thank the Gods for that— ugh!”

You clutched at your stomach, your body tilting forward in pain, and Astarion instantly knew the cause of your suffering; it’s something he recognized all too well.

“Hells, you must be starving. Gods know Cazador wouldn’t waste a single drop on a lowly spawn — no offence, dear.”

“None taken,” you forced a humourless laugh. “I shouldn’t have expected much considering I was to be cattle for a satanic ritual.”

He turned around and you kept a close eye on him as he handled the bottles beside him, pulling out a silver cup out of his bag of holding to pour you a portion.

“Here,” he sat back down, parting his legs open, extending one arm to you, “Come on love, sit back against me, would you?”

You stared unsure for a few seconds but obliged him. You scooted back until your back was fully resting against his chest, leaving no space lost between the two of you.

When he brought the cup forward you reached for it but he pulled back, clicking his tongue, “Oh no, my sweet, I will be the one to feed you tonight. This is your first time, we wouldn't want your primal instincts to take over now, would we?”

You turned around to stare at him for some time with incertitude and he simply tilted his head, with a sly smile, “Humour me, darling. You’ll be glad you did, hm?”

You pressed your lips together almost pouting, but acquiesced as you nestled yourself between his legs, your tense body laying against his chest once again.

He brought the cup to your mouth at long last, while his other hand held onto your chin. You gasped at his touch — while not unwelcome, it was a surprise — and you parted your lips to welcome your drink.

His hands were rough against your skin, yet there was a softness to it that made you melt under his touch. Made you want to push further into his hand to know how it would feel around your throat. It was almost enough to make you forget about the drink against your lips. Almost.

While the mere closeness of it had been invigorating, drinking it was ecstatic. It felt like your first meal in weeks, and it might as well have been with the pit that had replaced your stomach.

You took big gulps of the delectable nectar, barely pausing for air as you rushed to empty the cup’s content, eager to have your fill with this delicious substance.

“Slowly now darling,” he pulled the cup away from your lips and you gasped at the loss of your feeding source, “This is your first time feeding; I wouldn’t rush things.”

You frowned, but complied; even if you were starving, he had over two hundred years of experience with this form — you barely had a few hours. Your mind wasn’t all there yet either, and it's true that you couldn’t trust those new primal instincts to be civil enough to drink responsibly.

You held onto the one truth you knew, one that was clear ever since the start: you trust him.

You eased back into him, letting him hold you and guide you throughout your meal. The cup rested at a slightly down angle against your lips to allow you good mouthfuls of blood without overfeeding you all at once.

“There, good girl,” he purred. “You are doing so well for me, love. Small sips now, let your body recuperate from the shock.”

There was something about his voice that soothed you, brought you a peace of mind, a calm after this storm that had been your last few hours.

A shiver down your spine, that travelled all the way down between your legs.

You finished the content of the cup at a slower pace than you had started, soothed by his soft approach and the new blood filling your stomach, and he took this chance to explain more about your condition while pouring you another serving.

“Considering this is your first feeding, you’ll need a bit more to carry on until your next meal. Mind you, it’s normal if you don’t feel full; this is a curse, after all. The real challenge is to learn to live with your hunger.” He cleared his throat as he brought the cup back up to your lips, full again, “Alright now, open up, love.”

You hungrily parted your bloodied lips to welcome another serving.

“There, there, just like that.” A soft whimper left your throat between sips, and he caressed your cheek with his thumb, “Shhh, you're okay, you're doing just fine.” He leaned next to your head to whisper, “You’re perfect, my sweet.”

For a moment, you could swear you felt your heart beat anew.

You drank with his help until you finished one full bottle from his reserve, and with the pain in your stomach settling down, you allowed your body to relax against him. That’s when you felt something poking against your back, something you wanted to taste as much as the blood that had blessed your tongue just moments ago.

And he must’ve known, too.

“So, as you must’ve realised, your hunger was a side effect of the transformation. But what you’re feeling now, which I can very much smell on you, is a result of your feeding.”

If any of the blood you had ingested had made it in your veins by now, they must’ve all rushed to your cheeks at this very moment.

“Blood,” he continued, “Brings us back alive temporarily; it warms us, allows our hearts a few shy beating of their own, but it also reawakens other mortal pleasures. The first time it can be… a tad overwhelming.”

“It’s…” You hadn’t realised how quiet your heart had been until it started beating away once more in your chest; your cheeks felt warm, your breathing had accelerated, and your core was aching. You breathed out your reply, “It really is.”

As you turned your head aside, resting against his shoulder, and your eyes lingered over his lips, another primal urge awoke in you to devour him, in every way possible. You needed to taste him, his mouth, his blood, his come—

Until you were blessed with another sudden memory, and you turned away from his lips, gazing anywhere that wasn’t on him to stop yourself from acting irrationally.

“Wait, no, I’m sorry—”

He grabbed your chin and turned you back to him in one fluid movement. “You have nothing to be sorry for, darling, and I would be more than happy to entertain these carnal thoughts I saw in those eyes of yours. Unless you’d rather spend the night with someone else?” he teased.

You held your breath as he brought you closer to him, his hand lingering over your cheek. If you just closed the distance now, you could—

“No, Astarion, I won't force—”

“Stop that right now.” He cut you off without skipping a beat, stunning you once more. “You are not forcing yourself onto me or forcing me. This, right now, right here, is my decision.”

His other hand came up to cup your face, drawing you closer to him, your lips but a whisper apart.

“I want this,” he murmured against your lips, his voice lustful and heavy with need. “I want… you.”

Your eyes locked and the second after, his lips were pressed against yours and you let yourself get lost into this kiss. How his hands held on to your face, how his tongue tasted the blood on your lips, how he whimpered into your mouth at the contact of your own tongue; this memory of love you had remembered earlier, it had been a memory of this.

His kiss, his touch, his voice, him.

Your kiss was engulfing, springing your heart back to life in a sudden rush as you met every of his kisses with the same passion, and soon enough, you were laying back against his bedroll, with him over you and stealing your breath away; one — you didn’t realise yet — you didn't need anymore.

His hands rested next to your head and you allowed yourself to reach up to hold his face, trace the lines of his age over his cheeks and down his neck, and trailing along the opening of his shirt before he broke apart from your lips.

“I’ve been thinking about this for many nights now.”

“What would I be like as a vampire?” You asked semi-jokingly.

“No, silly — Although, the question did flit into my mind once or twice, but no. I was thinking of how I would have you, the next time I would bed you. I’ve touched myself at the thought of having you again, the sounds you would make, how your cunt would feel wrapped around my cock instead of my hand—”

He took your hand from where it was resting and guided it down between his legs, and a short gasp escaped you when you felt how hard he was.

“ —but tonight, after spending a lifetime looking for it, I finally know what I want.” His half-lidded eyes seemed darker than they had been, and you lost yourself in them, "And Gods help me if I can't have you—”

“I’m yours,” you answered back in a heartbeat, your voice but a whisper, “I’ve always been, and I’ll always be, for as long as you’ll have me.”

Your words broke the remaining chains of control Astarion had over himself, as he pulled your pants off from you and removed his own shirt while your hands fumbled with his trousers. A moment later, you both laid against one another, as bare as you were on your first days on this plane of existence, your lips back on each other.

“Mmh, I wonder…” Astarion let his kisses trail down from your mouth to your jaw, then your neck.

“Hm?”

“Now that you’re a vampire,” he left small kisses alongside your neck and down your shoulder, “your blood will taste different.”

“You’ll still drink from me?”

“Well of course, dear,” he lingered in the crook of your neck, before licking his way up to your ear where he whispered, “And I can’t wait to know how you taste after you’ve tasted me.”

You shivered against his breath, fully expecting him to bite you following those words, and when he didn’t you were almost disappointed. He, on the other hand, seemed extremely satisfied with himself.

“Eager already? And here I thought I was the most depraved between the two of us.” You sighed heavily as he came back up to face you, “Maybe I will be tasting you tonight, after all. Is this something that you want?”

You smiled softly, your hand finding his cheek again, “Yes.”

When your lips met this time, it was soft, pure, communicating words you hadn’t exchanged yet despite your longing for one another. It only made you want him more.

“Speaking of tasting you,” he said against your lips, “I wonder if something else has changed.”

You barely had time to process what he had said when he made his way down your chest, briefly sucking on one of your nipples.

“Mh,” he released it with a pop, “this one still tastes the same.”

He moved to your other breast to give it the same attention, teasing it with his teeth and earning him a moan from you before releasing it, “This one as well.”

He left a path of kisses as he trailed down your navel, until he was resting between your legs with a hungry look in his eyes, “Now, for the main course—”

You weren’t prepared for his fangs to dig in the inside of your thighs, making you scream in surprise as your hands grabbed onto the sheet of his bedroll. The pain quickly turned into pleasure as he nibbled and kissed the softness of your thigh, before making his way to your wet slit, which begged for attention.

The smell of you invaded his senses and you could feel his breath over your core as he breathed you in, his arms now wrapped under your thighs as he laid on his stomach and between your legs, “Darling, you smell divine.”

A soft whimper escaped your lips as his tongue pressed against your entrance and he slowly licked all the way up to your clit, “And you taste— Gods, you taste even better than before.” He smiled up to you, his mouth covered by a cocktail of your blood and juices. “I didn’t think it could be possible.”

You were past words by now, but even if you had come up with something, you don’t think you would’ve been able to utter anything with the way his tongue worked between your legs, devouring you of your essence.

“I would forsake blood for the rest of my days if it meant I could nourish myself only of your essence, my love,” he said between licks of you. “The Gods truly made you to ruin me; I could never move on from your taste, even if I wanted to.”

His hands surrounding your thighs and his nails digging in your flesh kept you in place as he continued to worship you, and no matter how much you wiggled, his hold on you held on, as if you were the first meal he was having in days and he wouldn’t let you go until he was sated.

Astarion recognized the signs of your unbecoming as your breathing started shaking and your legs tensed around his head, pushing him to tease you further.

“Are you gonna come for me now?” He smiled between your legs, “Come on, love. Come for me. Come on my tongue.”

The vibration of his humming as he continued to savour you only added to the feeling of his tongue, lapping at your entrance and sucking over your sensitive bud, and his nails digging deeper into your thighs added a delicious hint of pain. After weeks without any sex, you were sensitive to the slightest touch, and now there he was: tasting you, devouring you, wanting you; it was all too much.

“Ah… Astarion!”

Your head fell back against the rough floor of his tent as your back arched and stars clouded your vision. You knew how ironic it was to think so, but you had never felt more alive than you did at this very moment, with your devoted lover worshipping you like the goddess who had finally answered his prayers from all those years ago.

Your legs collapsed as he let go of them to move back up to face you, and he took this chance to hook your leg with his, pushing it upwards to create the perfect angle for him to place himself against your entrance.

Your half-lidded eyes met his, delirious with lust, and you wanted to express the feeling that had been weighing on you for too long now, but when his lips collided with yours and you tasted yourself, all those words got lost on his tongue exploring your mouth.

“I’ve waited so long to finally have you,” he said breathlessly against your lips. “I kept pushing back, thinking it was never the right time.”

He licked his lips, wiping off the string of saliva that connected your mouths. “When you disappeared… I thought I had lost my only chance. I’m done waiting around.”

He slowly pushed himself into you with a low groan as he felt your slickness wrap around him, and you threw your arms around his neck as you moaned into his ear.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. So tight and warm, all for me. I would stay here inside of you for a decade if I could. You feel exquisite, my love.”

He retracted himself slowly, and plunged back in with the same agonising pace, taking in the feeling of your inside. “I’ll enjoy taking my time with you; discovering what makes you tick, tease every one of your sensitive spots. But tonight — I just want this: feeling you wrapped around me and to know that I’m the reason for your unbecoming.”

His pace accelerated, each thrust of his hips brushing against your clit as your bodies almost fused as one, pushing you closer to another edge already.

A particularly well placed thrust had you dig your nails into his back and he hissed into your ear, “Darling,” he panted, “Remind me to trim your nails when we’re done.”

You quickly realised what he meant when a poignant smell, stronger than the bergamot, brandy, and rosemary you smelled on him previously, invaded your nostrils and your mouth watered in response. What you didn’t realise was how you ended up breathing down his neck, just against the popping vein conveniently displayed for you to bite down on. Just one bite away from ecstasy.

“Still hungry, little love?”

You were snapped out from your daze by his voice purring into your ear, pulling away from his neck and blinking as you gained back control of your thoughts.

“I’m— It’s just— Your blood smells really, really good.”

He chuckled, “I tend to have that effect on people. Would you like a taste?”

You forced yourself to look into his eyes, “I… Are you sure?”

He smiled, “There’s nothing I’d like more, my love.”

His gaze reflected sincerity and you gulped as you found your way back in the crook of his neck, your lips brushing against his sensitive skin. You licked the vein you had sensed earlier but didn’t push further. That’s when you felt the vibration of his chuckle, “Go on, darling. I can take it, I promise.”

With his permission, you pushed your small fangs right over the vein in his neck, relishing in the sudden flood of his crimson in your mouth.

Whatever you drank a few minutes ago was nothing compared to his blood. He was the source in a desert you had been roaming for days, one you couldn’t believe wasn't an illusion, and you drank, and drank, losing yourself in his neck, in his taste, the very essence that fueled him.

You couldn’t tell how much you had drank or how much time had passed when he growled and pinned your arms next to your head. His hips thrusting once, deeper into you and hitting your cervix is what makes you unlatch from his neck with a moan.

“I believe that’s enough, love. Now, let me taste you.”

His lips collided with yours hungrily as he increased his pace between your legs, and he groaned at the taste of himself on your lips, running his tongue across your small fangs.

“Fuck, I need you, I need to make you mine. I need—”

Something snapped within him, a side of him you couldn’t recall ever seeing — one that he could finally let go as he pushed your legs up, pinning them down across your chest and pounded deeper into you.

He growled into your ear as he desperately rutted into you, nearing the edge of his climax at the same time as yours, “I want you, I want you for the rest of our lives, please be mine, be mine, be mine!”

“I’m yours, I'm yours, I— I love you!”

You screamed as you came, his own orgasm following closely after yours, the wave of emotions clashing with the sparks of pleasure coursing throughout your body, and for a moment, you think you died and came back to life within the same minute. It was stronger than anything you remember feeling — even with your memories still scattered, you think you’d remember something as powerful.

It’s only when you came back to your senses and was met with Astarion’s soft, dumbfounded expression, that you realised what you had just said. Panic slowly made its way into your heart and you struggled to find the right words to correct yourself.

“I’m sorry— I—”

He didn’t allow you to finish that sentence, kissing you once more to steal away those thoughts of regret that faded instantly as he pulled back to speak.

“I love you too, darling.”

Your future was paved with incertitude; your memory wasn’t all there yet, but you remembered what was important for now, and if forgetting your past was the price to create new memories with him, it was a price you were willing to pay.

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are very much appreciated <3

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endereies · 22 days ago

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JUST NEED YOU - CS

No Nut November - Day 3

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ After a long day, Chris goes to you for comfort

Being awake late into the night repeatedly created such a messed-up sleep schedule and it was taking its toll. Ever since the triplets made a new schedule to fit around meetings and events, they found themselves filming into the dark hours of the day so that they could publish a higher quality video.

Chris was always energetic, and he portrayed that during every free opportunity. However, today was slightly different. Him and his brothers planned a stream about midday, along with a late filming session. Nothing he couldn’t handle until his team wanted to have a sudden meeting about his upcoming Fresh Love merch drop. It was early in the day compared to what he was used to.

The meeting wasn’t anything special, but it cut into the hours of rest he hoped would get him through the day. He wasn’t even sure of the meeting wasn’t necessary or a topic that couldn’t be discussed over a few strings of emails.

Then the streaming session followed. So many interactive tasks messed with his brain. Reading out the subs, communicating with the chat, following the requests, playing games while having to make the content engaging with commentary, it was becoming too much. Everything started to blur together, and his brothers could see that. They picked up on the subtle changes of their brother and brought the stream to a close.

“You going to be okay for filming dude?” Matt’s voice caught his attention and dragged it away from the day dream he didn’t even know he was having,

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just a little tired but I’m fine. I’ll grab an energy drink or something.” He shrugs, hiding the mental exhaustion on his face behind a meek smile. His brothers chose not to bring it up again and trust Chris with his words.

“Alright then, see you later.” Chris mumbled a goodbye to Nick, leaving the room to grab a drink from their fridge. The crack of the can giving him some hope that he’d feel more awake. But that’s the opposite of what happened.

The triplets had scheduled a car video for this Friday and if Nick wanted to have it edited by then, they had to film tonight. He was sat in the passenger seat, his third drink laying in the centre console. The filming started promising. Even with no topic, they each found small topics of conversation to entertain. He felt the drinks start to wear off and he couldn’t help but feel more agitated. Bantar turned into insults and left his mouth before he could process. Guilt filled his stomach as more words came out, eventually falling to silence.

When the camera finally stopped showing the red light, Chris sunk into his seat. Overstimulation ran through him by now and he hated it. Every cell in his body practically vibrated and he didn’t feel okay.

“Matt?” He offered a sincere tone to his brother, not opening his eyes while he leant back.

Matt glanced over to his body, evidently full of fatigue. “Yeah buddy?”

“Could you drop me at y/n’s house, please.” His brain felt fuzzy, he needed to just take his mind off his life for a moment. With his own home full of cameras, social media plans and reminders of what he had to do next, he needed a secondary. Your place held sanction to everything that made Chris feel calmer, safer. Away from cameras, away from his job and into your arms. When Matt hummed in response the car grew silent once more. Relief flooded him and a gracious smile twitched at his lips.

Neither Nick nor Matt uttered a word about the situation to Chris. They understood. There had been times where both of them had been in the same boat. The weren’t about to ridicule and tease Chris for that. Chris was just staring out the window at this point, falling silent which allowed the aux’s music to be heard. His eyes traced the painted lines on the road awaiting the moment those lines turned into the gravel of your drive way.

Chris knew you were home, he had been on and off messaging all day. Every few hours he’d receive a text from you just asking about his day. It wasn’t uncommon for Chris to seek your attention after a harsh day, today was no different.

He found himself stood in front of your door for mere moments before pushing the door open. His breathes instantly levelled and a feeling of relief filled his body as he took in the familiar surroundings. “Baby?”

“I’m in my room, Chris!” It didn’t take him long before he wondered into your bedroom.

When he pushed the door open, the scent of your vanilla candles breezed past him, the light casting a soft glow against your skin. You were stood by your closet, organising out piles of clothes freshly washed and dried. He couldn’t help but admire the way the flickered candle lights lit up the room. You feel his eyes baring into yours.

“What’s s’matter babe?” You don’t lock eyes with him briefly as you stretch your body to place a t-shirt away. Chris dawdled towards you, a breathy chuckle leaving his mouth.

“Too fucking much, m’exhausted and stressed.” His arms easily wrapped your waist, the feel of your skin making him sigh softly. You felt the pressure of his face, buried into your neck as he breathes in your scent.

“Would you want to lie down for a bit?” A small giggle passes your lips when Chris’s grip on your waist gets tighter. “Thought you’d never ask…”

Reluctantly, he let go of your body only for his hands to find yours, dragging you both towards your bed. Your bodies align so easily so that you were lying on his chest. Peppered kisses trace your features gently. Chris loves these moments more than anything, the times of the day where he could just be him with no camera or responsibility pushed into his face.

You settle your body in his arms, his heartbeat prominent when you placed your head flat on his chest. Chris’s hand finds his way to your scalp, running his fingers back and forth.

“You want to talk about your day?” You whisper softly, tilting your head to meet his gaze once more. Something in the way you look at him makes his body relax further.

He is quick to shake his head, planting a kiss on your lips. “ Jus’ need you…”

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerrss @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa23 @emilyfaith2003 @zariyam @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone

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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 7 months ago

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(Dark!) BNHA: Toxic Relationship

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female Reader

Boys -> Hawks + Bakugo + Dabi + Deku

Reaction: Moments from your toxic relationship with your Pro-Hero boyfriend.

WARNINGS: Toxic Relationship; Abuse; Manipulation; Non-con.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

Let me know if you like this reaction format or what 🙂

–

Hawks

“Y/n is a real clutz, y’know. Can’t even walk on even ground without tripping over her own feet.”

Your cheeks flame with humiliation as the camera pans to the crowd that laughs heartily at the demeaning words, as if Keigo had dropped the funniest joke they’ve ever heard.

“That’s adorable.” the woman laughs, “Maybe it has something to do with the fact that she has no quirk? I believe you said she is quirkless, right?”

Keigo chuckles, nodding as he crosses an ankle over his knee.

“She sure is. Can’t even imagine what type of quirk she’d have, she’s just not the type.”

Your hand grips the remote tighter. What does he mean by that? Does he think you’re not good enough to have a quirk?

You consider turning off the TV, but fortunately the interviewer changes the subject. They casually speak about the current stance of heroes and their struggles on fighting off criminals and villains.

Keigo is charming as usual, delivering answers that are a perfect portrait of responsibility with a sprinkle of humor. He’s good like that, even though his previous answers left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Somehow, they end up reaching the topic of hobbies and free time.

“Going Pro Hero leaves little time for myself, so sadly I don’t really have much time for hobbies. Wish I had.” he says humbly. “My girlfriend has lots of them, though.”

You inhale sharply. Not again.

For your misfortune, the woman gets interested.

Perhaps because it’s an exclusive interview and her network channel gave her orders to squeeze every drop of information they can get on Hawks’ personal life.

“What type of hobbies? She looks like she’s a great cook.” she tries to guess, but Keigo bursts laughing, holding his belly in an exaggerated mannerism.

“Nah, cooking isn’t really her department. Burned eggs and half-cooked pancakes are more her style. She doesn’t even-”

You change channels in a heartbeat, bursting in tears at the low insults.

You’re not that bad. Sure, you’re not amazing at cooking, but never once did Keigo complain when he eats the food you diligently make after he returns from patrols.

And now he slanders you on national television?

And the worst part? It’s not even the first time he’s done this.

Dabi

“There’s nothing to eat in the fridge.”

“There is.”

“There isn’t.”

You stop writing your notes, swallowing back an annoyed sigh, already aware of what was happening.

“There is food in the fridge.” you repeat, “You just have to cook it.”

Dabi looks at you, unimpressed.

“No shit Sherlock. Maybe you can do it for me.”

“You serious?”

Meeting his arrogant smirk, you huff.

“Dead serious, babe. Not like you’re busy anyways.”

Your mouth drops at his audacity and you open your arms to indicate the mess of books, papers and pens in front of you.

“I’m studying, Dabi. Can’t you see that? Grow up and cook for yourself, yeah?” you snap your attention back to your books, but your mood has already turned sour.

You pretend to scribble down a few words when Dabi walks to you slowly. He peeks into your annotations, snorting.

“That handwriting is kinda shitty.” he mocks you. “Besides, what exactly are you even studying for? You’re not exactly cut out to be a doctor, y’know? Not enough brain cells in you to become that.”

You glare at him, angrily swatting away the hand that condescendingly tries to pet your hair.

“You’re such an asshole, Dabi. Maybe if your life revolved around something other than your stupid daddy’s issues, you would actually get a job. Not like Endeavour is worried sick about you, not when he’s got Shoto.” you spit the words venously.

Not the nicest words, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to bother.

A dark shade crosses Dabi’s face, his amused expression turning colder. You’d be lying if the sight didn’t ignite some fear in you.

“Is that so?” his crooked smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “And why would I need a job - or Endeavour, by that matter - when I have you?”

His hand reaches for your shoulder and there’s an edge in his eyes that immobilizes you. You shouldn’t have mentioned Endeavour.

“I’m not with you because of that bitchy attitude, you know. I like my girl to know who’s in charge. Respect is really important in a relationship and your behavior is making me really upset, baby.” his tone is scaringly soft, and his hand travels to your neck.

You hold your breath when the staples on his hand scratch against the delicate skin of your throat. “So, if you need me to remind you of your place, I’ll gladly help you with that.”

His fingers heat up at a low temperature, not enough to actually burn you but it doesn’t stop the lonely tear that slides from your eye, the only sign of the chilling terror you’re feeling.

He leans forward, kissing your forehead before sliding his hand away.

“Are we understood?”

The nod you give him is shaky at best, but Dabi smiles nonetheless.

“Now, how about that food you’re gonna make me?”

Bakugo

“I have to wake up early tomorrow.”

Besides a low hum, Bakugo doesn’t acknowledge you much, too busy French kissing your neck.

His hands head for your ass, provoking a wince in you when he gropes it with unnecessary strength, your left ass cheek being kneaded like it’s dough.

Katsuki uses his grip on your ass to push your hips forward even as you complain again. The thin fabric of his sweatpants does nothing to hide the hardness that shamelessly rubs against your thigh.

“Katsuki.”

Once again he gives no sign of hearing you, rolling his hips with more urgency and you barely catch the tired groan that almost rolls away from you.

The clock on your side reminds you that despite the early hour, you’ll only have 6 hours to sleep.

You really have to sleep and if you’re being honest, tonight you’re not feeling sexy or horny enough to sleep with your boyfriend.

But that doesn’t make you feel any less awkward when Bakugo’s movements turn more vigorous and needy, humping your naked thigh as if he’s fucking it while you remain as alive as a statue.

“Fuck, this isn’t enough.” he growls against your skin, and your heart skips a beat when his hands reach for your shorts, tugging them down halfway until you panickedly grab his wrist, wiggling your body away from his.

“Seriously, Kats, I’m not in the mood tonight.” you say, quickly pulling back your shorts.

“You fuckin’ serious right now?” he growls through gritted teeth, still hovering above you.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you timidly nod.

“Maybe we can do this tomorrow? It’s just that-”

“Yeah, whatever. Not like you haven’t used that stupid excuse on me before.”

Your eyebrows raise with surprise at the bitter tone on his voice as he gruffs, pushing himself off you.

“I’m not making up excuses.”

“The hell you aren’t.” he looks at you, angry. “Every time I try to start something, you turn into a damn nun. Always too freakin’ tired, too busy or not in the mood.”

He scowls, spiky blonde hair falling to his eyes.

“All you have to do is open your goddamn legs and let me do the rest, and you can’t even do that.”

His words hit a sore spot and he turns his back on you, settling on the distant side of the bed after delivering strained punches to the pillow to soften it up.

“Maybe I go after those Dynamite's groupies that are always throwing themselves at me. Since you never want to fuck anymore.”

You’re left too stunned to speak, sadness blossoming at the cruel meaning of his words and it’s a struggle to swallow the tears.

He wouldn’t really, would he? But your mind lingers on the disturbing thought. He’s popular with girls, even with his angry mood.

Bakugo is tall, muscular and not even the ever present scowl in his face is able to contradict the attractive facial features he’s been blessed with. Meanwhile you’re just mediocre, if even that...

Your insecurities strike back, taunting you.

Your hand reaches for his arm before you even realize it, and you’re mildly surprised when he doesn’t shake you off.

“The hell you want now?”

Pulling on his arm until he finally turns to the side, you kiss him.

He groans against your lips, allowing your hand to rest on the warm plane of his chest and you let it slide lower until it touches his clothed member.

Neither of you speak a word, but you feel Bakugo smirking against your lips while he practically shoves your shorts down.

You allow yourself go limp underneath him, letting your boyfriend fuck you in the way he wants to. Holding back a tired sigh when the fluorescent numbers on the clock mock you.

You really have to wake up early.

Deku

“Are you serious, Izuku?”

The tall hero jumps, eyes widening almost comically when he realizes you’re standing on the bedroom’s doorway and not cleaning the kitchen, like he clearly assumed you to be.

“I wasn’t- The phone-” he stammers with his words, plowing your phone onto the bed with a bit too much force.

Crossing your arms, you flash him a frustrated glare.

“You promised me you wouldn’t spy on my phone anymore, Izuku.” your stern tone has him frowning and Izuku practically sprints closer to you.

“I wasn’t spying! I was just- just checking the time.” his words aren’t convincing enough for you to actually believe in him.

You squint your eyes at him, dodging his grabby hands with a nasty slap, despite the hurt expression on his face.

“Izuku.”

“I wasn’t! C’mon, you gotta believe in me.”

You don’t.

“Even if I did go through your phone - which I didn’t - why would that be such a problem?” he complains, dragging his voice. “Do you have something to hide or what?”

You point a warning finger at him.

“Don’t you dare. This isn’t about me. You’re the one who went behind my back because you’re just too insecure to fully trust me.”

He shakes his head, emerald eyes turning feverish.

“You’re being dramatic, of course I trust you.”

“You don’t, stop lying.”

“I do trust you!” his voice rises in volume.

“No, you don’t!” you scream, voice breaking before you crumble in tears.

You’re exhausted. Of arguing, of dealing with Izuku, of everything. When did things turn so frustrating, so tiring? Why does he always have to ruin things for you?

Izuku curses under his breath before rushing to you, engulfing you in a comforting embrace as you cry on his chest.

“You don’t. You never will and I know that.” he stays silent, not contradicting you this time.

He lets you cry on his chest, his hand gently caressing your hair as he mutters apologies.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” Izuku hugs you harder, arms tightening around you. “I’ll do better, okay? I promise, I will.”

And like a fool, you accept his promise - even if you know it’s meant to be broken.

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kiwicopia · 2 months ago

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MDNI | Themetober: Tricked

Fae!Geto x Fem!Reader

CW: noncon/dubcon, kidnapping, imprisonment, chained reader, mentions of starvation/dehydration, mentions of impregnation, dacryphilia, cunnilingus, overstimulation, licking, biting, body worship, face fucking, sex against the wall, creampie.

tags: @sweetchildcloud

Themetober Masterlist

He had to give credit where it was due, truly. Not many humans could evade a fae for as long as you had, but even you had limits to this evasion. He just had to find them; however, he wasn’t as patient of a fae as he should have been. The desire to have you as his was overwhelming to the point that drastic measures had to be taken. One little slip-up was all he needed, and the very second it occurred, he whisked you away to his domain.

“Darling,” he cooed, dark eyes watching as you shied away from him. Your body moved further back in the cell, and the soft clinking of the chains caused the corners of his lips to twitch as he smiled. “It doesn’t have to be this way. Things would be easier if you would simply give in.” Geto inched closer to the bars of your cell, his fingers tightly wrapping around the cold metal as he rested his forehead against it. “You’re being childish.”

You hadn’t eaten or drank anything in three days, having refused him each and every time he would bring you something—it was such a childish thing for you to do. His eyes lowered, squinting as he assessed your huddled form in the corner of your cell. Geto didn’t want things to be this way. He couldn’t understand why you resorted to such stubbornness, which only resulted in an inevitable deterioration of your body.

The fae huffed in irritation, brows creasing as his mind came to a single conclusion: be forceful. Honestly, this was the last thing he wished to resort to, but he couldn’t think of any other way to make you see reason and listen to him. With a quick tap of his forefinger against a metal bar, the door to your cell opened and he stepped inside. Your wide, teary eyes watched as he came closer to you, causing you to squish yourself against the cold, hard wall of the cell.

“You have left me no choice,” he said. Geto then snapped his fingers, causing the chains connecting you to the cell wall to quickly slide back, which lifted your body to your feet. He came closer, stopping a foot in front of you before reaching a hand out to gently caress your cheek. He thumbed a tear away, tutting softly before letting out a small sigh. “You’ll see reason soon enough.”

Disgust bubbled in your stomach as his hand drifted from your face and down to your thigh. His other hand followed suit, and you squirmed as his fingers wrapped around the flesh beneath your tattered dress before forcing your legs apart. Geto hummed softly, his smile broadening as he lowered himself to his knees.

“So beautiful,” he whispered. His thumbs rubbed gentle circles against the skin along your inner thighs before cupping the plump flesh and lifting your lower half up. It was just enough for him to roll his shoulders underneath your legs, situating them over his shoulders perfectly—though he still kept his hands cupped beneath your thighs. Geto’s lips kissed along the skin, trailing his movements further up to your awaiting cunt. “So beautiful, and all mine.” His nipped at your flesh, causing you to cry out before attempting to wriggle away from him.

The fae tutted softly, shaking his head a little before tightening his grip on your thighs. You should know better than to refuse—not that you could if you tried. “Please,’ you begged. His eyes flitted up to your tear-filled expression. The way you cried and pleaded for him to stop brought forth a low rumble in his throat, as well as causing his cock to chub at the sight of more of your tears. You were so beautiful like this. Teary-eyed and pleading; a real sniffling mess as you attempted to wriggle away once more, but to no avail. “Please don’t—.”

Your words died midsentence upon feeling his tongue lick a thick stripe along your folds, the tip curling slightly to catch your clit at the right angle. His ears rang with cries that spewed from your pretty lips, only to be ignored as he continued lapping at your cunt. The fae’s fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs to quell the constant squirming of yours as you tried pulling your hips back. Geto’s nose soon brushed against your bundle of nerves the further he pressed his face against your pussy, earning a shrill cry as you tossed your head back against the cell wall.

He couldn’t hold back anymore. The soft slurps rang in your ears, and the fact that your body was so eager to wet itself with arousal as he pleased you felt so wrong. You didn’t want this, you never wanted this. But it felt good. No longer could your mind hold the disgust for what he was doing to you; that feeling now fading as a sick and twisted need for him to continue festered in its place.

The second your hips began to grind against him, he knew. You were giving in, and he groaned softly as his cock twitched beneath the fabric of his pants. It ached to be free, to be deep inside of you, but not yet. Geto still needed you to give in entirely, and there was only one way to get that. His pace increased as his tongue delved past your folds, lapping up the slick that now coated his lips and chin as he feasted on you like a starved beast.

His nails dug into your flesh the more you fucked yourself against his face, now whining and moaning for more. You needed more, wanted it, craved it, and he delivered. The fae held your lower half up as your body shook upon releasing a sudden, sharp cry. His dark eyes watched as your back arched while your senses flooded with pure ecstasy. “Pretty girl,” he chuckled. Geto flicked his tongue along your puffy clit, relishing in the whiny moan that slipped out from you. “I’m still not finished eating.”

He lapped at your sensitive, slick cunt again, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you until he finally felt satisfied. The fae’s tongue licked along his lips after he pulled his face back, relishing in the sweetness of your multiple releases. Your body still twitched from the effects of him overstimulating you, which made you perfectly pliant for him as he stood to his feet and pressed his chest against yours. Geto kept you balanced between him and the wall, with an arm around your waist while a free hand worked to release himself from the confines of his pants.

His cock sprang free—the tip angry and weeping arousal—and he slowly rubbed the thick head against your folds before easing himself inside. You whined at the stretch, body tensing from the sudden burn that ached the more he disappeared inside of you. The fae’s arm around your waist tightened as his hand moved to grip your hip, and his face buried itself in the crook of your neck. Your scent wafted through his nostrils, causing his dick to twitch inside of you, and Geto gave you a small moment of adjustment before pulling his hips back and slamming himself into you.

The pace was relentless, with little to no room for gentleness as he fucked you. Gods, you were so tight and warm, with walls that sucked him back in with ease—so heavenly to him, this feeling. His arm soon unwound from around your waist, and both of his hands firmly pressed against the cell wall. Your tears were long gone by now, with eyes rolled back as you babbled nonsense in his ear, to which he let out a breathy chuckle at.

You were adorable. His little human, getting herself fucked by a fae she thought she could evade. The thought of his little tricks almost not working on you days ago didn’t sit well with him, and he now desired to make you his in more ways than one. Fucking you just didn’t seem to be enough for him. Geto could impregnate you, force the swell of your belly with his seed. Then you would be his forever.

Such an idea spurred him on, his body squishing you against the wall as his cock bullied your sopping cunt. “Take it, take it, darling,” he panted. Those words spilled from his lips like a mantra, a heavenly chant that would ensure your bond to him for life. Gods, it was enough for him to finally come undone. With a low growl rumbling in his throat, Geto fucked into you one last time, spilling into you and painting your walls in thick, creamy cum.

His thrusts had slowed, gentling out as he kissed along the side of your neck. You were too fucked out to comprehend what had even happened. Too overstimulated from orgasms prior to realize the fate he resigned you to. Geto was a fae that had always gotten what his heart desired, no matter how sick and twisted it was.

If impregnating you kept you bound to him, then so be it. Simply another little trick that had to be done.

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simplyholl · 7 months ago

Text

Hunted

Summary: Hydra hosts a training exercise for their super soldiers. You can run, but you can't hide from the Winter Soldier.

Pairing: Dark Winter Soldier x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI. This is a dark fic. Non con. Death.

See my Masterlist Here

You ran as hard as your feet would carry you. You were terrified, shaking so hard you were surprised that you could even move. Footsteps approached quickly, your breath hitches as you make a decision. You could run, but the super soldier could easily catch up to you. Or you could stay where you are and pray that you are hidden well enough that he won't find you.

Last month, Hydra caught your uncle's company trying to take them down. They killed all the men that worked there and captured all the women. They brought you all to cells under their headquarters. They fed you three meals a day, stating you all would need your strength for what they had planned.

This morning, you learned what they had meant. You were all brought out to the edge of the woods. The man in charge told you that they were training their super soldiers today. They would be practicing their hunting skills. A large van pulled up, and out came ten super soldiers. You looked around, counting the women who were with you. There were twenty-three of you. A second van halted to a stop beside the other. Two large men drug out another.

He was chained up, arms behind his back, black mask almost like a muzzle covered his mouth. His dark, shoulder length hair was messy, piercing blue eyes locking on you. You felt like you were going to faint. The Winter Soldier was the most brutal of all the super soldiers. A skilled assassin, he was sent on Hydra's most important missions. He did all their dirty work.

The Hydra leader who brought you outside explained the rules to the prisoners and soldiers. They were going to give you all an hour head start. Your job was to hide from the men. If they found you, they could do whatever they wanted with you as a reward. Bile rose in your throat, turning the contents of your stomach sour. Some of you wouldn't come out of this alive. But if you were fortunate enough to make it until sunrise, you would be free.

The footsteps grow closer, you close your eyes hoping he won't notice the footprints you had left in the mud. Then you see him, the man was tall, blonde hair shaved off. He walked toward the bushes you were hiding in. Your hand flies to your mouth to hide your cries. To your dismay, one escapes anyway. The soldier's head whips toward the noise, across the way from you.

You realize it wasn't you who cried too loudly. The soldier smiles wickedly, reaching for the poor woman who just gave up her hiding spot. He flings her out of the bushes onto the hard ground. More tears fall when you notice that it's Claire, the secretary from your uncle's failed company.

The soldier begins pawing at her as she tries to fight him off. It's no use. He holds her down with one knee on her torso, as he strips off his clothes. "You're my second one today." He brags. "Let's see if you're luckier than the last one. I choked her too hard." His evil laugh echoes through the quiet forest. When he rips Claire's clothing from her shaking body, you take the opportunity to run.

He looks up when he hears you leaving your shelter. "I'll catch up to you next!" He yells after you. The sun has started setting, you take a precious minute to catch your breath. You know if you stop for too long, you'll lose your momentum, or someone could catch up to you. You hear the screams and cries of your fellow prisoners as you make your way further into the woods. You search for a new place to hide, since it would be dark soon.

They could have at least equipped you with flashlights, you think to yourself. That was the whole point of all of this, wasn't it? You weren't meant to survive. Hydra expected the super soldiers to kill most of you. The women who survived would be brought back to the prison, probably made to work for them now that their spirits had been broken.

It was almost too dark to continue, so you took shelter in a cluster of bushes, shrinking yourself as small as you could underneath it. Night fell, and you laid on the cold ground, the horrendous sounds of the others getting caught filled the air. Finally, you rested your eyes. You needed the rest if you were going to make until the morning.

You woke up, sensing someone was nearby. You silently prayed that it was just another prisoner and not a threat. You release the shaky breath you were holding when they leave the area. The dark sky turns reddish - pink and you sigh with relief. It shouldn't be long now. Sunrise was so close you could almost taste your freedom.

You close your eyes, hoping that when you opened them the next time, this torture would be over. Your few moments of peace were interrupted when the blonde super soldier from earlier reached down into the bushes, pulling you up by your hair. Your scream rips through the woods, the soldier slings you back onto the ground, kicking you. "Shut up, bitch. I told you I was coming for you. You're my sixth, and from the looks of it, my last." He gestures to the sky.

He rips your shirt from your body. You try to cover yourself, but he moves your hands away. A metal hand wraps around the soldier's neck, a sickening crunch filling your ears as The Winter Soldier snaps it with ease. The soldier slumps over, his lifeless body landing with a thud.

"Mine." The Winter Soldier states, blue eyes locked on your exposed bra. A cold metal finger slips under the bra between your breasts, tearing it from your body with no effort. "No please! I almost made it. Please don't do this!" You cry, pleading with him. His hands find your breasts, squeezing roughly. His eyes land on your peaked nipples, taking them between his fingers.

He twists and pulls too roughly. When he's finished his assault on them, he reaches for his face, removing the black mask from his mouth. He's beautiful, you think for a split second. His blue eyes and pouty, full lips seemed like they didn't belong on the same man who was trained to kill. "Like what you see?" He smirks, when he notices you staring at his face. He pushes your breasts together, face lowering toward them. He runs his tongue from one pointed nipple to the other. Chapped lips taking one between them, sucking harshly.

He bites down, pulling your nipple with his teeth. You cry out, hands on his face trying to push him away. He chuckles, as you fight him, biting down your torso to your pants. He pulls them down along with your panties, discarding them immediately. One thick finger runs through your folds, disappointment evident as it comes out dry. "You're not even wet for me? We can't have that. I won't fit if you're not ready."

You shiver at his words. You didn't want to know how big he was. You had studied the super soldier serum enough at your old job to know that the serum enhanced everything. He brings his mouth down against your core, lips brushing your clit. He swirls his tongue around it, metal arm hooking under your legs to bring you closer. His full lips tug on your clit, you can't help but moan for him.

"That's it, good girl. If you're good for me, I'll convince them to let me keep you." You spit at him, kicking your legs, to push him away. "Why would I want that?" He smiles, because Hydra's gonna kill anyone left in these woods when this is over." You gasp, you should have known. "You didn't really think they would just let you go? You know too much. They will let me keep you as my little plaything though. All I have to do is say the word."

You didn't doubt him for a second. “Stop fighting." He commands, lowering his face again. His nose brushes your clit while he works his tongue inside you. You try to fight back, but he misinterprets your movements. He thinks you're enjoying it now. "That's it." The Winter Soldier suckles your swollen clit, hot tongue lapping up every drop of arousal. You bite your lips so hard; it bleeds trying to keep a moan in.

He grabs your chin, jerking your face towards him. "Do not hold back from me, kitten." His warm tongue drags over you slowly before his plump lips suction around your clit. Your thighs close against his ears as he draws a forceful orgasm out of you, legs trembling as you flood his face. Your moan rips through your throat, earning a satisfied smile from the soldier.

He spreads your legs with one hand, his other freeing his hard cock. You were right about the size of it. You were so fortunate that he got you wet first. You'd be lucky if he didn't split you in half. He plunges inside you, you squirm from the painful way he entered you. "Hold still." He says, holding your stomach down. "I can't, it hurts too much." You whine. The Winter Soldier rolls his eyes, lifting you like a rag doll.

He sits on the ground, lowering you onto him. This position was worse for you. He hit even deeper than before. But he could hold you better this way. His metal arm snakes around your waist, holding you close. He bounces you on his cock, your arms wrap around his neck. His fingers dig into your hips as you get used to it and start to grind on him.

Your clit brushes his dark curls as you ride him. "I knew you would be worth it." He grunts. "I wanted you the moment I saw you this morning. I found you immediately. You're not great at hiding, you know. But I waited. I knew it would be better if I let you think you could escape." He chuckles, "You should have seen those other broads, they would piss themselves when they saw me. But I only wanted you, so I left them for the others."

His dark pants rub against your thighs as he fucks into you. You roll your hips, trying to get this over with as quickly as possible. "You feel incredible." He moans into the crook of your neck. You scratch at his leather clad back, as the Winter Soldier's mouth latches onto the exposed skin of your neck. He sucks harshly, making sure it will leave a mark. You clench around him as he cums inside you.

His metal hand reaches between you, icy digits colliding with your heat. His thumb circles your clit, causing you to unravel. You shake in his arms, too exhausted to move as he pulls you off him. He takes his shirt off, handing it to you. "Put this on. I don't want anyone looking at my little doll." You take it, looking up at the sun coming up in the distance.

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @crimson25 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @lokidokieokie @theallknown213 @alexakeyloveloki @tmilover1993 @yeaiamme2 @pigeonmama @yeehawbrothers @lokischambermaid @fictive-sl0th @nomajdetective @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck @lamentis-10 @jainaeatsstars @queenshu @justsebstan

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doitforbangchan · 4 months ago

Text

Captiv(e)ate - H.H

Pairing:Mafia boss! Hyunjin x Doctor/EMT!reader

Requested: Yes, you can see the original ask here.

Warnings: Fem/afab reader, Guns, blood, kidnapping?, cursing, kissing, suggestive, petnames (angel and darling), and probably more

WC: 4.4k

Sorry to the original asker that this took literal months 🙃i also want to add that i took a lot of creative liberties here and changed it up a bit. Hope you like it! Not proofread Masterlist

“Are you sure we’re in the right area? I don’t see any businesses, only abandoned buildings. Wasn’t the call for a business injury?”

“This is where the address is showing on the gps, Y/n.”

“Yeah, I get that,” you sighed, looking out the front window of the ambulance. “But doesn’t it just seem a little… off?”

Ray, the driver, shrugged, “ Guess we’ll see when we get there. The building should be right around the corner.”

You continued to look out of the window, doubt etched across your face. Being an EMT has taken you to many sketchy places since you started your career, but nothing has ever set the knot in your stomach so tight as it is now. A few minutes later the gps alerted that the destination was directly in front of you. With a deep breath you prepared to enter work mode and put your nerves aside and as the vehicle stopped you opened the doors.

Immediately you saw a small swarm of men filter quickly out of the building. Before you could hop out, the one who came out first reached behind him and pulled out a silver pistol, aiming it directly at you. You froze, eyes wide with terror and a chill down your spine.You slowly put your hands up to show you are unarmed. You could hear Ray behind you yelling in fear but you remained silent.

“No one move an inch.” The man with the gun growled menacingly, he had an Australian accent. “This is how this is gonna go. We are all getting into this ambulance, and you are going to treat our friend. You cooperate- you leave with your lives. You don’t… then you don’t. Capisce?”

You both nodded quickly, keeping your hands up. The man was satisfied with your choice and he motioned for you all to move aside. Once you did all the men began to hop into the ambulance, two of them carrying another who was nearly unconscious.

The men dropped the injured one onto the gurney then shut the doors harshly. “First things first,” The man with the gun said. “Give me your cell phones. No calling the cops.” The two of you shakily took out your phones and handed them over to the man. “Alright now do your jobs. Driver, head south towards Gangnam.”

It was incredibly cramped in the ambulance with all of the people but nonetheless you scooted closer to the man on the gurney. Your eyes did a quick sweep over the men; some were glaring at you in intimidation, others were looking at the injured man with deep worry on their faces.

With a deep yet shaky breath, you snapped on some rubber gloves and began to access the patient in front of you. He was a young guy, probably early 20’s. His lips were plump- the shape reminded you of a dumpling. His eyelashes were long and dark, flitting on his cheeks as he twitched with his eyes closed. Overall he was a very handsome man, they all were really, but something about this man in particular made your heart flutter. If he wasn’t bleeding out in front of you you might have taken a little more time to eye him up, but now was not the time to get distracted. Especially since your life was on the line if you didn’t save this man.

You could see that the blood was pouring out of a wound on his side and you lifted his shirt to find a bullet wound. You winced, finding a cloth and holding it on the wound quickly to help with the copious amount of blood. When you pressed into it, he gasped from the pain and his eyes shot back open.

“Nnnnhgggghh” He choked out and suddenly his hand was grasped from beside him. A young looking man with shoulder length blonde hair held his hand and with an unexpected deep voice tried to sooth him.

“Shh easy, Hyune. The docs gonna patch you right up.”

Another one spoke up from behind you, “Yeah you’re gonna be alright boss!”

Hyune, as he was called, looked over to you, his teeth clattering as he tried to hide his pain, and with a shaky nod he motioned for you to continue. You steeled yourself the best you could and got to work.

‘Hyune’ was banaged the best you could, but you would need a more steady place to work that wasn’t speeding down a highway. When you conveyed that to the men around you, you were met with glares.

“No, you will get it done here and now.” The one with the gun still out stated with a growl.

“C-chan..” Your patient croaked, “H-home..” They all did a double take at the man on the gurney, some scoffing and looking like they wanted to disagree but before they could he held up a hand and instantly they all stopped talking. “That’s an order.”

The man with the gun, ‘Chan’, sighed. “Ok, you got it.” Then he turned to you with hard eyes, “Do you know how to drive this thing?”

You were taken aback, “Uhh, no I don’t.”

He hummed, then looked at a man with copper colored hair and thin eyes, “You’re up, maknae.” the both of them went over to where Ray was. “Pull over in this cluster of buildings.” Ray did as he was told and pulled over behind a large factory.

The copper haired man reached behind him, “Sorry man, this is the end of the road for you.”

You couldn’t help the gasp that left you at the man's words. “No, please no!”

Both the men looked at you as if you were dumb, and then the younger one pulled out a wad of cash from his back pocket. He shoved it into the hands of Ray who was shaking in his fear.

“Take this as a token of our appreciation for your help and your silence about this.”

Ray nodded and got out of the ambulance, not even sparing you a glance. The younger man got into the driver's seat and began to drive the large vehicle with ease. You looked out the window to see Ray counting his large stack of cash with a smile on his face. It almost made you sick with how easily he was bought off.

One of the men who was still standing near you pulled a dark piece of fabric out from his pocket - a blindfold- and smirked at you. “Sorry, we can’t have you knowing where our hideout is.”

He sure didn’t sound sorry…

Your thoughts were cynical as the man wrapped the fabric over your eyes. He tied it tightly and then held your arm for the remainder of the ride.

It had felt like hours (though it had only been about 15 minutes) before you could feel the vehicle coming to a stop.The doors to the ambulance were quickly opened and you could feel the heat from outside immediately seep in. You yelped as you felt someone lift you into their arms.

“Shut it, I’m just helping you get out.” It was the voice of the one who blindfolded you. He hopped out with you in his arms and set you back down on your feet. You wobbled and almost tripped when he started to usher you to move, keeping a hold on your arm the whole time. You were led into a building and down a hall.

Suddenly the fabric was ripped from your eyes as the other men hurriedly wheeled in the gurney with ‘Hyune’ on into the room. The blonde one rushed in behind them with his arms full of medical equipment. The items were laid on a table and you were pushed closer to the injured man.

Chan threw a pair of rubber gloves at you, “Get to work doc.”

You put on the fresh gloves and breathed deeply to steady your nerves. You were a medical professional that worked as an emt, you thrived under pressure. This was no different… at least that’s what you told yourself as you got to work removing the bullet from this very good looking man.

You were able to breathe a sigh of relief when you finally finished sewing up the man. The entire time you worked you had been supervised and scrutinized by Chan and the blonde one, both of them keeping their gaze trained on your every move. You had worked in silence the whole time, and you were thankful for the quiet as it allowed you to focus. The silence also helped you think about the circumstances you have found yourself in.

You came to the conclusion that these men were part of the mafia- or some kind of gang- and the man you operated on was their boss. The realization did nothing to ease your anxiety, nor did the awareness that once you were done here they would most likely be done with you. You ignored the sick feeling within your stomach as you took off your bloodied gloves and stepped back from your patient.

“I-i’m done.” Damnit, you didn’t mean to stutter. “He just needs to rest and heal for a while. I gave him some morphine for the pain so it’s imperative that he relaxes to avoid further risk.”

The blonde one was by his side in an instant, grabbing his hand and checking him over. “Hear that, Jin? You’re gonna be fine.” Hyune tried to lift his head up but he was lightly pushed back down by the blonde. “Nuh uh you have to rest.”

“Felix..” He mumbled and tried to speak but it was coming out so quietly you couldn’t hear what was said, you only saw the brow raise from ‘Felix’ at what Hyune was saying.

“Uhh yeah, ok. Whatever you say.” Felix waved over Chan who came over. Chan side eyed you as Felix whispered something in his ear, making him sigh in frustration. Then he waved you closer to them.

You gulped and shuffled over to them. You were surprised when the injured man reached out and grabbed your hand, and he turned his head to look directly in your eyes. His eyes were droopy as if he was struggling to stay awake and he had a dopey grin on his face that made him look even more boyishly handsome.

“You saved me..” He started, staring directly into your gaze. “You must be an angel.”

“Uhh.” You felt your face heat up despite the small tinge of fear that still remained inside you. “No, m’ just a doctor. My name is Y/n.”

Your response caused him to burst into a fit of giggles, which in return made both men next to him let out a few chuckles. Seeing them laugh so casually made you feel slightly less anxious and you felt your shoulders relax a little.

“You’re funny. I like you.” He squeezed your hand again, his grip was shaky and clammy but for some reason it comforted you. His eyes flickered over to Chan, who rolled his eyes and approached you. “Be nice to her, Channie. S’ not everyday we have an angel among us.”

Chan snorted and grabbed your arm again, leading you away from the others and down a different hallway. He led you to a room and he opened it, motioning for you to enter. When you were apprehensive he ended up shoving you in and closing the door quickly behind you. The pit in your stomach grew as you heard the distinct click of the door being locked. You spun around and grabbed at the handle of the door but it didn’t budge.

Fuck.

It was at that moment that all the emotions you’ve been holding onto since this whole ordeal started came rushing to you all at once. All of the fear, frustration and anger began to pour out of you in the form of tears. Your hands went to your face as you sobbed and your back slid against the door until you were seated on the ground.

How did you get yourself into this mess? All you did was come to work. And now look at you. Locked away in some mobsters house. You finally lifted your head to look at your surroundings and saw you were in a bedroom. There was a small bed in the corner and another door that led to a small bathroom. You looked around for windows but there was only one tiny one with thick looking glass. So you couldn’t break it and escape..

You supposed there were worse places to be held, at least you weren’t in a jail cell, though you would have preferred to not be captive here in the first place. For what had to be two hours you sat there and thought about how unlucky you were, until finally there was a knock on the other side of the door.

You scrambled up and to your feet just as the door was unlocked and opened, revealing a man whose name you did not know. He had chunky cheeks and big dark boba eyes. He offered you a gentle smile when he saw you standing there.

“Hi. It’s uh- it’s time to check on Hyunjin.” So that was his name. Hyunjin. “He started complaining about the pain again.”

“Oh, ok.” You let him lead you out and down another few halls and up a set of stairs. The house you were in was huge and gorgeous. Beautiful floral paintings lined the walls and crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings. Obviously these people had taste.

The man with you- who had introduced himself as Han- opened another door and led you inside. Laying in a massive bed was Hyunjin, blinking up at you as you carefully approached his bed side. He beamed when he saw that it was you who entered his space. “There's my angel.”

You shook your head, “I’m not an angel, sir. I’m just a doctor. How are you feeling?”

“Don’t call me sir, my name is Hyunjin. But my friends call me Hyune.” He winked after he said ‘friends’ and it brought more heat to your face. “And I’m feeling alright, Angel. Just a little tender with the morphine wearing off.” A quiet scoff and a ‘little tender my ass’ was heard from behind you, then Hyunjin sent a glare at Han who mumbled his apology quickly with a giggle. “How are you, Angel? My boys treating you well? You are my special guest here after all.”

“I’m your special guest?” You asked, shocked at his words and that he cared that you were being treated nicely. You tried not to show your surprise as you got back into work mode, checking his wounds and beginning to replace the gauze.

“Of course. You saved my life and I don’t take that kind of thing for granted. So you are the specialist guest I’ve ever had.” He gave you that dopey grin again and you felt your heart palpitate. Why are you reacting this way? Get a grip! He’s just a man! A dangerous one at that..

But a really really cute one.

Han cleared his throat, “Uhh boss, I don’t think your in your right mind yet, seems like the morphine is still-”

Han was cut off by another harsh glare sent his way by Hyunjin, “ I think I’m perfectly in my right mind, Jisung, and I appreciate your concern, but what I would appreciate more is you shutting up.” Han mimicked zipping his lips and locking it, raising his hands in surrender. Then Hyunjin turned back to you just as you finished wrapping him up again with that charming smile.

You offered him a small one in return, “The wound has been cleaned, it’ll have to be cleaned and rewrapped twice daily to avoid infection. No strenuous movements for a few weeks while it heals and make sure you’re drinking enough water and eating.”

He grabbed onto your hand once again, “Ah thank you so much, Angel. Speaking of food, have you eaten? Are you hungry?” You shook your head but he didn’t accept your answer. “ Oh come on you must be a little hungry, you’ve been working so hard today. I’ll have dinner set up, whatever you like, hmm?” He nodded over at Han who pulled out his phone and sent a quick text. “So what will it be? Steak? Lobster?”

You said the first thing that came to your mind in a panic, “How about pizza?”

“Pizza?” He laughed, crinkling his eyes. “You could have anything in the world and you choose pizza? Oh Angel, you are surprising.” He brought your hand up and laid a kiss on the back of your hand. “It’ll be done before you know it.”

You found your confidence in that moment, the burning questions rattling around and begging to escape. “Can I ask you something, please?” Your voice came out more timid than you intended and you mentally cursed yourself.

“Of course.” He didn’t even hesitate, having an inkling about what you wanted to know.

“I’m still not totally sure what is going on here.. I mean I get that you guys hijacked my ambulance and you needed medical help, but I don’t know what I’m still doing here or why you’re being so nice to me or even who you guys are.” You twiddle your thumbs and avoided eye contact, though you were not sure why you were so nervous.

Hyunjin chuckled, patting you on the back of your hand, “Promise not to freak out?” You nodded in agreement. “This is the Straykids headquarters. You’re still here because you have been more than useful to me and you saved my life.”

Upon hearing the name ‘Straykids’ you knew exactly who he was. This was the leader of the most notorious mafia group in Seoul; Hwang Hyunjin. This man was known for being dangerous, violent and bloodthirsty. His whole gang was, really. You had seen first hand the leftovers of one of their shootouts, having been called to the scene a few months prior to try to find any survivors. There were none.

But this man doesn’t seem to be the cruel criminal that he had been made out to be- though maybe it was the drugs you had administered that was altering his mind. So far he had been kind to you, and had worried that you were being taken care of.

It was like he could see the gears turning in your head and he let out another chuckle. “Don’t worry, Angel, you’re safe here. No one here is going to do anything to harm my special little Angel.” Hyunjin winked again, then a ding was heard from his phone. He leaned over and read the text, “Pizza is here. Hannie will take you down to the dining room, I will join you in a moment. Ok?” He finally let go of your hand and sent you off with Han.

You were seated at this long elegant oak dining table, a gang member on each side of you as they call scarfed down the slices of pizza. Hyunjin sat at the end of the table, keeping his eyes on you as you picked at your food. He could see how nervous you were to be surrounded by infamous criminals but he was also intrigued by how well you were holding yourself together. He was starting to like you more and more.

“So how long have you been an EMT?” The question came from the boy next to you- I.N he was called- as he shoved another bite into his mouth.

You cleared your throat, “About a year. I worked in the hospital for a while before this as a resident.”

He nodded, swallowing . “What made you leave working in the comfort of the hospital? Seems like it would be a pretty cushy gig”

“Yeah it was.” You agreed, ��But it was so boring. I like to be out there in the action.”

That had caught everyone's attention. A few looked at you with raised brows. “Action huh?” Minho had asked from across from you. “Like what?”

They noticed how you lit up as you started talking about some of the medical emergencies you had seen, how passionate you sounded as you described how you helped people. Hyunjin especially could see all your emotions as you spoke.

“Sounds bloody.” Minho said, earning him a light hit to the head from Seungmin. “Fuck off!” He grouched at the boy next to him.

You shrugged, already feeling more comfortable. “It can be. Nothing you guys aren’t used to, I’m sure.”

All eight men started to laugh, some nodding along as your words rang true. They were all much more personable now, acting like normal guys and cracking jokes and laughing together. In fact they were all so normal it was almost unsettling. These are not the kind of men you envisioned when you imagined the deadly mafia. They seemed more like a family than a gang.

You felt a hard pat on the back from Chan who was sitting on the other side of you, “You’re kinda funny, doc.”

“Thanks I try.” You gave a small grin to him and finished your pizza.

It had gone like this for the next two weeks. Every day you were let out of your room to treat Hyunjin and keep the wound from getting infected, and then you would either go back to your room or were allowed to hang out with some of the mafia members.

Every day Hyunjin would flirt with you, calling you Angel and telling you how much he valued you. You didn’t want to fall for his charms but you were just a girl. And he was one appealing man. He made sure you were cared for, and showed you kindness. There was never a moment (other than that first day) that you had felt like you were in danger with him or the other members.

His injury was healing nicely and you knew that soon there would be no use for you, and that was the only thought that brought you any kind of anxiety. You doubted they would just send you on your way; you knew way too much about them and their ‘organization’. They hadn’t been exactly secretive about it since you’ve been there.

You went to find Hyunjin to do his exam and found him sitting at his desk in his office. Since he was healing he was able to do more behind the scenes work and as the leader he definitely had work to do. Organized crime required more work than anyone realized.

You walked in and he looked up from whatever he was studying and offered you one of his dazzling smiles. “Hiya Angel. Is it that time again?”

You nodded, “Uh huh, lemme see it.”

He smirked and lifted his shirt to reveal his toned abdomen. “If you wanted me to take my clothes off you should have just asked. I would never deny an Angel.” There he was with his flirting that always brought a deep heat over your face and ears.

“Yeah yeah, just come ‘er.” You muttered and took off his bandage. You examined the wound. Just as you thought, it was healed enough that you would no longer need to take care of it. “It’s healing very well, Hyunjin. You have been taking great care of it.”

“That’s all thanks to the incredible doctor that stitched it up and brought me back from the brink.” He said, looking down at you and dropping his shirt back back.

“Well you’ll be happy to know that you no longer require my expertise, it should be just fine as long as you keep it clean.” You tried to smile but it didn’t reach your eyes and Hyunjin could see right through you.

“What’s wrong, Angel?” He cupped your cheek with his big hands, making you face him.

You tried to shake your head, “Nothing, I’m happy you're doing better.”

“Buuuut” He prompted.

You let out a sigh, embarrassed you even feel this way. “ But I’m done treating you. And now you're going to toss me out.”

His eyes widened and confusion washed over his features. “What? Who said that? Did one of the boys tell you that?”

“No they didn’t say anything but I just assumed tha-”

“Don’t assume anything, I had no plans of getting rid of you.” He stared hard into your eyes.

“B-but you don’t need me anymore..”

He tsked, “You silly girl. Haven’t you come to realize that I’ll always need you? Who else would take such good care of me and the boys. Don’t think I didn’t see it when you patched up Minho after his cooking incident. Or when you cured Felix's cold last week.”

“Oh that was nothing.” You protested, your hands coming up to fist his shirt as he got even closer.

“Not to me.” He leaned closer to your face, getting his point across. You thought he was going to kiss you but instead he pressed a peck to your forehead. Then he pulled back slightly. “If you want to leave, then I will let you go. I know you wouldn’t say anything about us to anyone. But before you have to know that I want you here. I want you to stay by my side. Not just as my medic but as my woman. You are the most interesting and incredible woman I’ve ever met. You captivate me like no one ever has.”

Your hands wrung in his shirt at his sentiment. You didn’t know how to answer. You knew the smart thing would be to go- to leave this place and never think twice about these mobsters. But for once you wanted to follow your heart, not your brain. You wanted to stay and you wanted him.

“I-I want that too..” You said quietly and screwed your eyes shut. “I would like to remain here. With you, Hyunjin.”

You heard him hum in satisfaction and then you felt your face being tilted up and suddenly the softest pair of lips you had ever felt were on yours. You let out a squeak of surprise and then melted into his kiss. You groaned when his tongue swiped on your lower lip asking for entrance which you gladly gave him.

Hyunjin suckled on your own tongue for a moment then pulled away from you, leaving you breathless. Both of your lips were swollen and you couldn’t stop gazing into each other's eyes. He ran a thumb along your cheekbone, “Welcome to heaven, Angel.”

©doitforbangchan

Im not the proudest of this but it took me so long 😭😭 plz enjoy. comments and reblogs are appreciated

Tagged; @jehhskz @athforskz

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #skz #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin stray kids #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #requested

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wholoveseggs · 2 months ago

Note

Hey girl, I love you and your stories <3

Can I maybe request an enemies to lovers with a female reader and Elijah, which leads to a threesome between her Elijah and Klaus. Maybe with a little punishment and very kinky maybe with a little light bondage and just light beds in general, I'll leave the details up to you

thank you already <333

Captive

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x Klaus Mikaelson x Vampire!Reader} You are being held captive by a group of nasty witches, being tortured, starved of blood and interrogated night and day... You've lost all hope, until two old enemies show up to save you, and you spend the evening reminiscing and making up for lost time.

♡♡ Thank you lovely anon! Its been so long since I did a ménage à trois with the boys & it's always so much fun to write! ♡♡

7.1k words {hehe} - Warnings: smut, lots of drinking, Klaus being a little shit, oral sex {m! and f! receiving}, a little bondage, praise kink, a little punishment, slight dom!Elijah and Klaus, blood sharing, rough sex, double penetration, overstimulation && aftercare ...

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer @nina6708 @evasmlp

@madeinmyownmind-blog @lovelyy-moonlight @blacknightrises @poppet05

In the dark, dingy cell; there was no way to tell the passage of time. Not that you were in any condition to care about that.

It had been so long, you had forgotten the feeling of sunlight kissing you skin, the smell of flowers in the wind, the sound of birds chirping in the morning, the taste of rich red wine, the laughter of friends. The last few days- weeks? months?- were spent in a haze. Time had become a distant concept.

All you knew now was cold, stale, dirty water, and the constant pain of hunger, and the agony of torture.

At first you blamed your captors, with their unrelenting desire to grab at power. Then you blamed your stupidity, your lack of caution. But most of all you blamed the Mikaelsons, for they were who the witches had targeted. They were the ones you were being tortured for.

If only you had not made such enemies, if only you hadn't gotten involved, you could have lived your immortal life without consequence, without guilt. You would have avoided all the pain, all the torture. Indulging in men of that caliber always came with a price, you just didn't expect it to happen to you.

In a way, it was a mercy that your body had long since given out. That you had become too weak, too hungry, to do much more than lay against the dirty floor, staring blankly ahead. Soon your limbs would stop working, only dust left in your veins. You would desiccate and die a slow, painful death, the only relief would be your own insanity.

It was there, in that dark place, where you accepted your fate. The witch's spells kept you trapped, you were too weak to even crawl out the door, and there was no one who knew where you were, no one who would come for you.

That is, until you felt the cold chill of the witch's magic suddenly disappear, like a weight lifted from your shoulders. Then the sound of fighting outside, the screams of the witches and their death rattles, and the door creaking open. And a cold laugh you never thought you would hear again.

"Isn't this a sight?" Klaus said, crouching down outside of the cell, leaning close to the ground to meet your eyes, "I never thought I'd see you in such a state, little fox."

His tone was light, almost mocking, and his grin was as cold as ever. You blinked a few times, hoping you were imagining things, that the delirium had finally set in. You had experienced plenty of hallucinations since the witch's had captured you.

But he didn't disappear. He stayed, watching you, like a snake waiting to strike.

"She looks awful," He mused, looking you over.

"And she smell even worse," another voice chimed in, his soft lilting accent completely unfamiliar, and yet somehow familiar at the same time.

"You've let yourself go, sweetheart," Klaus teased.

"Are you going to sit and gawk, or are you going to rescue the poor girl," The second man said, his voice growing closer as he joined Klaus.

It was Elijah, his way with words unmistakable, even in the attempt at an American accent he spoke with now.

"I was actually thinking about killing her, would it be easier?" Klaus replied, his grin widening, "What do you think brother, is she a lost cause?"

Elijah peered through the bars, his dark eyes taking you in. You wanted to hide, or scream, or cry. His face bringing back a thousand buried memories, all the reasons why you had tried so hard to forget him.

"I'd say she's quite beyond salvation," he said, "but you know I could never resist a damsel in distress, even one as ugly as this."

That hurt, even though you certainly deserved it. Many great fables are written about the tragic love affairs of humans, but nothing compared to the heartbreaks between vampires.

Klaus laughed at the pain in your eyes, the way they watered ever so slightly, despite how weak and dehydrated you were. But he reached out and grabbed the iron gate, tearing it off the hinges with a grunt.

"I think we're past pleasantries, don't you agree, love?" He asked, striding into the cell and lifting you up.

The moment his hands touched your skin, you knew it was real. That by some divine miracle you were rescued and it was by the worst possible people.

"You should really take a bath, it's unbecoming for a lady to smell like a sewer." Elijah commented, watching the way you were limp in Klaus' arms.

You choked out a half laugh, half sob, every small movement felt like sandpaper rubbing against your skin. You swallowed hard and it felt like a knife had been forced down your throat.

"Fuck you," you wheezed.

"There she is!" Klaus said, holding you bridal style, "We were wondering if you had actually died."

Elijah reached out and placed a hand on your head, smoothing out your hair and giving you a gentle smile. You leaned into the touch, the first kindness you had felt in so long.

Klaus carried you out of the cell, and into the room above. He sat down in an old wooden chair, the same one you had been tortured in countless times. Your breathing hitched and you tried to struggle, but he held you tight, pressing his face into your neck.

"Relax," he said, "I'm not going to kill you … yet."

The threat hung in the air, and Elijah rolled his eyes at his brothers' dramatics. You felt the tip of his tongue lick up your neck, and his fangs graze your skin, before pulling away.

"Any of them still kickin'?" He asked Elijah, who was peering around the room.

"One, she's alive. Barely," he replied, his gaze falling on a witch laying face down on the floor, her neck was at a weird angle, no doubt snapped by Elijah.

He dragged her to the middle of the room, her body limp, but you could hear the faint beating of her heart, her blood still pumping. She was still clinging to the last threads of existence. Her blood smelled divine, the sound of her heartbeat was music to your ears.

"Here's a deal," Klaus said, pulling your attention back to him, "I give you her blood, and you answer our questions. Sound fair?"

Your lips were chapped and your throat was dry, but you forced out an answer, "Yes, please."

You hadn't begged for anything the entire time the witches had imprisoned you. Not for freedom, not for mercy, not for blood, not even for your own life. But in that moment, all of your pride had been stripped away, and there was nothing left but desperation.

Elijah lifted the witch up, biting down on her wrist and offering it to you. The taste of fresh blood filled your mouth, and you moaned, gulping down as much as you could. But the relief didn't last long, as he pulled away.

"Enough," he said, his grip tight, "can't have you drinking too much."

You felt life returning to your limbs, your bones tingling as you were able to wiggle them, your skin turning from a gray pallor to its usual color. It wasn't much, but it was more than enough to take the edge off.

"Now, let's start with the obvious," Elijah said, "Why are you here?"

"On vacation," you replied sarcastically, your voice hoarse, but not as quiet as before.

Elijah didn't say anything, instead he gave you a cold stare, daring you to make another joke. You shrunk away, but not much. It had been so long since you had been with them, but the way they made you feel, was ingrained into your bones.

"The witches, what do they want from you? I will not ask you again," He asked, the anger behind his words making you nervous.

"They wanted you two," you said, "they knew we had...history."

"History?" Klaus said, chuckling, "that's a very bland word for what we had."

You bit your tongue. He wasn't wrong, but you weren't willing to admit that to them.

"They thought I could get to you, so they tortured me," you explained.

"And could you? Get to us?" Elijah asked, his eyes narrowed.

You didn't respond, instead you looked down. The truth was, you had been avoiding them for centuries and to do that, you always kept tabs on them. So yes, if you wanted to, you could have gotten to them, but that would have meant reopening old wounds, and the last thing you wanted was to feel that pain all over again.

"We could always compel the answer out of you," Elijah mused.

You shook your head. It wasn't that they couldn't, but that they didn't need to. You were already at their mercy, and had no desire to fight them.

"I... I kept your secrets, no matter how much they tortured me," You said, "I never told them anything."

"How noble," Klaus replied, rolling his eyes, "your loyalty is truly inspiring, sweetheart."

His grip tightened on your body, his fingers digging into your skin. It was starting to make you angry. Yes, they had saved you, but the way they spoke to you, the way they were acting, it was too much.

"Fuck off," you snapped, "I could have given them anything, and yet, here I am, starving and tortured. So maybe a little respect would be nice, you prick."

Elijah let out a short, sharp laugh, while Klaus glared at you. But after a moment he grinned and chuckled, the sound sending a shiver up your spine.

"You were always so bold," Klaus said, "you never were afraid of me."

"She's a fool then," Elijah replied.

"Well, what is life without a few fools, brother?" Klaus asked.

"Boring," you replied, earning a smirk from both of them.

Elijah leaned down, grabbing the witch by the hair and placing her head on your lap. She was so close to dying, you could hear her heartbeat getting weaker and weaker. You looked down at her, the smell of her blood filling the air, and licked your lips.

"Drink up now, you've earned it," he said, stroking the back of her head.

You sank your teeth into her neck, the taste of her blood filling your mouth, as you greedily sucked up as much as you could. Nothing tasted better than draining the life out of a witch.

When you finished, you tossed the body aside, licking your lips and wiping your mouth. You were finally able to relax, your stomach full, your skin returning to a healthy color. You stood up, steady and sure on your feet for the first time in months.

"Where do you think you're going?" Klaus asked, reaching out and grabbing your wrist.

"A hotel, I'm thinking luxury suite, room service, a month long spa treatment, the works," you replied, "thanks for the save, I'm off."

You tried to pull your arm away, but his grip tightened, yanking you towards him.

"Such hubris, little fox," he said, his voice cold and menacing, "you don't really think we're going to just let you go, do you?"

You struggled in his grasp, but it was no use. He was too strong, and you were still too weak. You looked to Elijah, a silent plea, but he just shrugged, an amused smile on his lips.

"What the hell do you mean?" You asked.

"Well, there is the fact that you owe us a favor, but also," he said, leaning forward, his mouth brushing your ear, "I still think your lying,"

And with that, he reached for your neck and with one swift move he snapped it. You didn't even have a chance to react, and as you fell to the ground, the world fading away.

When you woke up, you were somewhere else, on a large, incredibly comfortable sofa, the smell of leather and wood in the air. The light was dim, and it took you a moment to get your bearings. You heard a crackling fire, the sounds of music playing from somewhere, and the voices of the Mikaelson's arguing.

"I don't believe she was lying," Elijah said.

"Really, I'm surprised at you brother," Klaus replied, "considering how she ended things with you,"

Elijah sighed and didn't respond. You couldn't see him, but you imagined him adjusting his suit, and the way his jaw twitched when he was annoyed.

"I'm not inclined to trust her either," Elijah said, "But I think holding her captive is pointless,"

"She's a risk," Klaus argued, "and she's not leaving till I'm sure she's not lying."

You sat up and glanced around, trying to see where they were. It was a large living room, the furniture was ornate and expensive, with antique looking paintings on the wall, and bookshelves lining every surface. There was a coffee table next to the sofa you were on, and your eyes landed on a fresh horror that was laying there.

You let out a blood curdling scream, one that echoed in the space and made Klaus and Elijah appear almost instantly. You were still staring, frozen in place, unable to look away.

A human head was sitting on the table, his skin pale and his eyes wide and lifeless. It was one of the witches that had tortured you, and it was sitting there, staring at you.

"Jesus Christ, is that necessary?" You snapped, pointing at the head.

Klaus grinned, looking down at the head, and shrugging, "I thought you would appreciate the gesture,"

"I don't!" You exclaimed.

"Perhaps you could have done something a little less barbaric," Elijah suggested.

"Oh come now brother, where's the fun in that," Klaus replied, and Elijah rolled his eyes.

"It's a peace offering," Klaus replied, walking over and lifting the head up, tossing it from one hand to the other, "do you like it?"

"No!" You yelled, covering your eyes and trying not to gag, "I want it gone, get rid of it,"

"Oh, come on little fox, don't be so uptight," He replied, his voice low and dangerous, "I remember when you used to enjoy this sort of thing,"

An awkward tension filled the room. Elijah cleared his throat and Klaus laughed.

"Too far?" He asked.

"Just a bit," Elijah replied.

"Sorry, my bad," he said, turning his attention back to you, "now, let's discuss how you're going to repay us."

"What, not even a hello, or how are you?" You asked, standing up.

Elijah gently pushed you back down onto the sofa. He sat down next to you, giving you a small smile, and placing a hand on your knee. You felt your heart skip a beat, and you cursed yourself for the reaction. You had been the one to ruin things with him, and yet, being near him again, it made you wish you hadn't.

"This happy reunion calls for wine!" Klaus called, he chucked the head somewhere out of sight and strided over to a mini bar, pulling out a bottle and glasses, "unfortunately I don't have anything fancy at this particular bar, but this is a decent 1990s vintage, which I think is passable,"

"I don't drink anything after the 1900s," Elijah replied, leaning back against the sofa.

Klaus scoffed, but didn't reply, instead he poured himself a glass and downed it in one gulp.

"Fine," he grumbled, "make me go to the cellar, like some sort of servant,"

"If the shoe fits," Elijah quipped.

You watched the exchange, trying to process everything that had happened. They were different now, their accents and mannerisms, not to mention their appearances. But the easy banter between them, and the way they were able to get under each other's skin, that hadn't changed one bit.

"Are you two ever not at each other's throats?" You asked, leaning back, "seriously, you are worse than an old married couple."

"Far worse," Klaus yelled, before disappearing down a hallway, off to retrieve the good wine.

"Don't mind him," Elijah said, turning to you, "he's never been very appreciative of fine cuisine."

"I know. He's a heathen," you replied, smiling.

Elijah didn't return the smile, his gaze fixed on you, a strange expression on his face. His eyes were dark and intense, and the longer he looked, the more uncomfortable you felt.

"You've changed," he said.

"So have you," you replied, "it's been centuries and I wasn't exactly eager to run into either of you again."

He didn't respond. The silence hung in the air, neither of you wanting to talk about the elephant in the room. What had happened, was painful, and neither of you had really moved on.

"Why did you do it?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You bit your lip. A million lies flashed through your mind. The truth was cruel, and you didn't want to admit it, but it was the only option.

"Because I was bored," you admitted, "and I didn't know any other way to handle it, so I turned it all off,"

"And found a far more vigorous lover in the process," Klaus said, suddenly appearing with an older bottle of wine.

He handed it to Elijah, who looked over the label and nodded. Klaus gave you a wink and sat down on the chair across from the two of you.

Elijah didn't speak, and you couldn't read his expression. He looked hurt, and his gaze turned away from you. Guilt was a feeling you spent a lot a time accepting back into your life, but to witness the consequences, that was far worse.

"Whoops, still a sore subject I see," Klaus teased.

"Niklaus, shut up," Elijah snapped.

Klaus threw his hands up in mock surrender, and didn't say anything, a satisfied smile on his face. He was just as much to blame as you, but clearly he had no remorse and was loving the awkwardness of the moment.

Elijah uncorked the wine and poured a glass for all three of you. The tension in the room was still palpable, and as much as you wanted to apologize, you knew that nothing would fix what you had done.

"To reunions, and bloody witches," Klaus said, raising his glass, "to past lovers and new enemies, to the future, whatever that may bring,"

He chuckled and took a long drink. You and Elijah didn't move, still looking away from each other.

"Oh, come on, I'm not doing this whole thing alone," Klaus said, glaring at the two of you, "let's play a game,"

"You know, I'm not really in the mood for a game," you said, crossing your arms.

"Well, lucky for you, I'm not asking," Klaus replied, his voice dripping with false kindness, "now, the rules are simple, tell the truth or take a drink,"

"We are not children," Elijah protested, "we don't need games to imbibe,"

"Oh, I beg to differ," Klaus said, "so, what shall we ask first? Hmmm... oh, how about, why were you in New Orleans?"

You stared at him, unsure if you should just answer, or try to get out of the game. He was looking at you, his eyes narrowed and his jaw set. You could feel his anger, and the last thing you wanted was to piss him off.

"I needed an answer to a question," you replied, "it's… important to me,"

Klaus and Elijah exchanged a glance, both of them curious about what you meant.

"How intriguing," Klaus said, leaning back, "and what was this question?"

"Doesn't work that way," you replied, a smile creeping onto your face, "it's your turn,"

"Clever girl," Klaus replied, grinning.

"My turn," Elijah said, turning to Klaus, "where did you find this bottle,"

"Why does that matter?" Klaus replied, annoyed.

"I don't remember seeing that year in the cellar," Elijah replied, taking a sip.

"Perhaps it was from your secret stash…" Klaus asked, smirking, "the one I'm not supposed to know about?"

Elijah glared at him, and you stifled a laugh. Their arguments were always funny, and this was no exception.

"Well, I was feeling sentimental, so I grabbed one of the better years," Klaus explained, "what's the harm in a little nostalgia,"

Elijah didn't say anything, his gaze turning back to the glass, swirling the wine around.

"My turn," you said, "how did you find me?"

"Simple," Klaus said, "we have spies everywhere, and witches are the most gossiping creatures on the planet. When I heard they were torturing a lovely little vampire that matched your description, well… we just had to see for ourselves,"

You were shocked, that they had gone out of their way to find you. You hadn't expected them to care, or even remember you, and to know they had saved you just because they could, it was a strange feeling.

"But, why bother saving me?" You asked, genuinely curious, "you don't owe me anything, not after how I left things,”

They both fell silent, exchanging a glance that seemed to have an entire conversation within it. After a moment, Elijah spoke.

"It's always better to know where our enemies stand," he said, "you are a useful asset, and a potential enemy,"

"And," Klaus added, "we love killing witches who get too big for their boots,"

Elijah glared at him and then sighed, "That too,"

You didn't say anything, their reasoning making perfect sense. You had a history with the two of them, but that didn't mean you were friends.

Elijah's arm stretched behind you, casually resting on the back of the couch. His fingers brushed your shoulder and you felt your breath catch. His hand was warm and you could feel his thumb stroke your shoulder.

"What did the witches ask you?" he said, his voice soft and low. “Tell us the whole truth,”

His hand moved subtly to the back of your neck, a quiet threat, one that didn't require words. You understood the unspoken message and knew that if you didn't give him an answer he was happy with, then you would end up the same way as the head that was somewhere in the house.

"They asked about your weaknesses, how to kill you," you admitted, "I told them to go fuck themselves and in return they upped to torture severely,”

Klaus snorted, clearly impressed. He poured himself another glass, while Elijah gave you a satisfied nod.

"Why the loyalty? We haven't spoken in centuries," Elijah asked, his fingers tracing the curve of your neck, "I seem to remember you hating us both,"

You picked up your glass and took a long drink, not saying anything.

"Not a fan of the question?" He asked.

"It's not loyalty, but self preservation," you said, shrugging, "the wrath of witches is one thing, but you two? That's a death wish,"

Klaus laughed and held up his glass, "well played, sweetheart,"

Elijah didn't remove his hand, his fingers lightly caressing the nape of your neck, his gaze never wavering from yours.

"My turn," you said, trying not to squirm under his touch, "why not kill me? You are clearly afraid I hold secrets you rather I didn't,"

"Call it … Nostalgia," Klaus said, a wicked grin on his face, "I do so love to reminisce, and if I am being honest, you are one of the more fun memories,"

"Ah yes, your one weakness, sentimental attachment to those you've slept with," you quipped, taking another drink, the alcohol warming your throat.

"I guess it's the one thread of our humanity we've never been able to shake," Klaus admitted.

You raised your glass and downed the rest of it, setting the glass down with a small clink. Elijah refilled it, his hand now resting on your lower back. You tried to ignore it, but every touch made you more aware of him, and less able to concentrate.

"Let's make a deal," Klaus said, his expression serious, "we will let you go, if you answer why you are in New Orleans,"

You bit your lip, wondering if they would even believe you.

"I'm here because..." you paused, looking down at the ground, "I heard a witch here can help with... Fertility,"

They both froze, a stunned look on their faces.

"A baby?" Elijah asked, his eyes wide.

"Is that what you've been chasing all these centuries?" Klaus asked, clearly surprised.

You looked up at both of them, two of the oldest beings to walk this earth. Them, of all people, you hoped would understand your reasons.

"I've experienced everything I've ever wanted too in my long life," you began, your hands twisting in your lap, "climbed the tallest mountains, swam in the deepest oceans, drank with Kings of long forgotten empires, fucked and fed from the greatest artists, poets, warriors and philosophers the world has ever known... but now I wish for only one thing,"

You stopped, swallowing a lump in your throat, blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall.

"To be a mother," you whispered, "to impart my wisdom on someone, and love them more than anything. To show them the beauty of the world and watch them grow up, have children of their own, and carry on a legacy. It's the one thing I haven't done, and the one thing I want most in the world,"

You thought that Klaus would laugh, perhaps even mock you, but he didn't, instead his expression was sympathetic, and Elijah's was one of understanding.

"You are not the wild, reckless creature that we used to know," Klaus said, "you have changed,"

"And so have you," you replied.

The three of you sat in silence for a few minutes, letting the weight of the conversation settle.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Elijah asked, his arm now firmly around your waist.

"All I found was a chains and a cell," you replied, "I was a fool, blinded by hope. All that awaited me was pain,"

Klaus poured you another drink, they couldn't help you, but at least they could offer you a distraction.

The night quickly dissolved into a drunken revelry. The three of you laughing and drinking, the old days a source of amusement. Your belly was full of blood and wine, and the tension between the three of you had dissipated.

"Now that I have determined you aren't a threat, it's time to get down to the real questions," Klaus said, "who is the better lover? Me or my dear brother,"

"Seriously?" You exclaimed, rolling your eyes.

"What?" He replied, "I'm just curious, I promise I won't get jealous,"

"I'm not answering that," you said.

"Yes, well, I would rather not hear the answer," Elijah interjected.

"You are no fun," Klaus replied, and then leaned forward, his gaze intense, "I'm going to assume it's me,"

"Interesting assumption," you said, raising an eyebrow, "but if we're talking about skills, there is a clear winner,"

Elijah grinned, and Klaus shot you an offended look. You laughed and finished the rest of the wine, setting the glass on the table.

"And I've always preferred passion over... Enthusiasm," you said, a hint of teasing in your voice.

Elijah didn't look up from his drink, his face neutral, but you could tell he was smiling. Klaus huffed, and crossed his arms.

"I would be delighted to remind you," Klaus said, leaning forward and placing a hand on your thigh, "just say the word, and we can retire to a more comfortable location."

You grabbed his wrist and twisted, until you felt his bones shatter. He cried out in pain, then quickly recovered, the bones snapping back into place.

"That's not how this works," you replied, smiling sweetly.

He stared at you, his expression changing from shock to a pleased smile.

"Still the same fire, I see," he replied, "a good reminder of the past,"

"If I were to sleep with either of you again, it would be on my terms, certainly not when I'm held captive," you snapped.

"Who said anything about holding you captive," Klaus replied, "if we were, you would still be shackled to the wall,"

"Some might enjoy that sort of thing," Elijah remarked, his cheeks were a bit rosy from drink and you enjoyed how it made him seem less cold.

"Have you done that sort of thing Elijah?" You teased, "I never would have taken you for a deviant,"

He shrugged, a sly smile on his face, "I don't divulge such things,"

"Oh, please, you can tell us," Klaus said, "unless you haven't, and are simply trying to pretend like you have,"

"Or perhaps he has and is ashamed of the things he's done," you added, laughing.

Elijah glared at the two of you, the playful glint in his eyes giving him away. He simply stood up and held out his hand to you, the confidence in his stance and the way he looked at you sent a jolt of heat through your body.

"The only way to know for sure, is to experience it for yourself," he said, his tone seductive, "I'll leave the choice up to you,"

You stared at him, a sudden desire coursing through your veins. This was a terrible idea, but at the same time, a chance to have a night of freedom and pleasure after months of torture was an offer you couldn't resist.

"If I say no, am I free to go?" You challenged, meeting his gaze.

"You were never a prisoner," he replied, "the only person keeping you here is yourself,"

He was right. They hadn't chained you, or compelled you, and now that the threat of danger was gone, there was nothing stopping you from walking out the door. But that was not what you wanted, and the look in his eyes was too enticing.

"Alright, but I need a shower first, I still smell of dungeon and witch piss," you said, standing up and taking his hand, "and you better not disappoint,"

He smiled, his eyes dark with desire, and pulled you into his arms, his lips crashing into yours. The kiss was intense, and you clung to his shoulders, melting into his embrace.

Klaus scoffed, he loathed being left out.

"Really?" he grumbled, pouring himself another glass. "Can you keep the noise to a minimum, I would prefer to have a little sleep tonight,"

You let out a soft giggle, "oh, don't pout, you can come too,"

Klaus raised an eyebrow, looking to his brother for an answer. Elijah nodded, a smirk on his face.

"If she insists," Elijah said, his voice smooth, "you know I've never been good at denying her,"

Klaus immediately got to his feet, throwing his glass of wine into the fireplace. The flames leapt up, the red embers glowing, illuminating the room in a fiery light. He walked over and wrapped an arm around your waist, his lips brushing your ear, his hand cupping your ass.

"Do you have any idea how many times I've fantasized about having you in bed again?" He whispered, his breath hot against your neck.

You smiled and pushed him away, enjoying his expression of surprise.

"Well, then, why are we still standing here," you said, sauntering out of the room, "the night won't last forever,"

Elijah caught up with you in the hallway, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing you up against the wall. He kissed you, his hands sliding down to your thighs and lifting you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist and ran your fingers through his hair, deepening the kiss.

He carried you all the way to his bedroom, never once breaking the kiss. The room was dark, and the bed was large and covered in dark silk sheets. He pointed to his bathroom, and you pulled your tattered clothes off, leaving them on the floor.

You went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, waiting for the water to get warm. You felt his arms wrap around you and turned around, letting him press you up against the tile. He kissed you again, his tongue slipping into your mouth. His hands roamed your body, exploring every inch of bare skin, his touch igniting a fire within you.

Klaus quickly joined you, he had undressed in the other room, and stood naked in the doorway. You smiled at him, enjoying the way his muscles flexed as he moved.

Elijah pulled away from you to undress and you watched as his shirt was unbuttoned and fell to the ground. His pants followed, and your eyes roamed his body, admiring his muscular frame. The two of them were opposites in many ways, but they both had a beauty to them, and right now you could hardly choose which one you wanted more.

You took both their hands and pulled them under the steamy water, running your hands across their skin. Their bodies were warm and firm, their skin soft under your fingertips. You kissed Elijah, while Klaus kissed and licked your breasts, his hands wandering between your legs.

You could feel his fingers brush against your wet core, his thumb pressing against your clit. He slowly circled the sensitive nub, sending a wave of pleasure through your body. Your hands wandered down to Elijah's cock, gently stroking the hard length.

Elijah kissed you, his lips trailing down your neck, his hand gently caressing your breasts. You moaned, enjoying the feeling of their hands on your body.

Their touch was overwhelming, hands and mouths everywhere, and it was only when the water started to turn cold that you all stepped out, laughing and breathless.

Elijah pulled you on to his bed, and you fell on to his chest. His lips found yours and you lost yourself in his kiss. You felt the bed dip and Klaus pressed his lips against your shoulder, his hands running along your thighs. He kissed his way down your spine, his hands pushing your ass up in the air.

His lips trailed along the curve of your lower back, his fingers tracing the line of your hip. He placed a soft kiss on your inner thigh and you moaned, anticipation coiling in your stomach.

You felt his tongue flick across your pussy and you gasped, arching your back. He chuckled and began licking and sucking, his tongue expertly teasing your clit.

Elijah's hands cupped your face and you turned your attention back to him. His eyes were blown wide with lust, his gaze fixed on yours. You kissed him, the taste of the wine still lingering on his lips. His cock was hard against your stomach and you could feel his desire pulsing through his veins.

Your hand trailed down his chest, and you wrapped your fingers around his cock, slowly stroking the thick shaft. His eyebrows arched in pleasure, and you could feel his muscles tighten.

You kissed your way down his chest until you were level with his cock. You ran your tongue along the underside of his shaft, enjoying the sound of his low moans. A gentle hum left your throat and you felt him shudder.

You took him in your mouth, gently sucking and swirling your tongue. He groaned, his hands tangling in your hair. His grip tightened and you increased your pace, taking his length deeper.

Klaus moved away for a moment, and you could see Elijah observing whatever he was doing, a dark smile spreading across his face. You felt the bed dip as Klaus returned, and he grabbed your wrists, pinning them behind your back.

A moment later, the soft leather of a belt wrapped around them, and he secured the belt, tight enough that you couldn't move, but not too tight that it hurt.

Elijah's eyes met yours, and a wicked smile played across his lips. "Do you enjoy being tied up? Being helpless and at our mercy?" He asked, his voice a deep growl.

You nodded eagerly, taking him further into your mouth. His eyes darkened, and he grabbed a fistful of your hair, his hips thrusting forward. You could feel him hit the back of your throat and gagged, your eyes watering.

Klaus kissed your lower back, then positioned himself at your entrance. You gasped as he slowly slid inside, the stretch sending waves of pleasure through your body. He held still for a moment, letting you adjust to his size, then slowly began to move.

You moaned, the sensation of being filled by both of them overwhelming. They began to move in a steady rhythm, Klaus thrusting into you while Elijah fucked your mouth. You were helpless, pinned between them, unable to do anything but submit.

The sound of their pleasure sent a shiver of delight through you, and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to release. Elijah's breathing became ragged, and his grip on your hair tightened. You knew he was close, so you focused on pleasuring him, moving all the way down and swallowing.

He let out a low groan and came, his hot release spilling into your mouth. You swallowed every drop, then pulled away, gasping for air. You smiled up at him, his expression one of bliss.

Klaus continued to thrust into you, his pace increasing. He leaned forward and bit into your shoulder, his fangs sinking deep. You cried out in pain and pleasure, your body shuddering. His bloodlust combined with his own pleasure, the feeling overwhelming, but just as you were about to cum, he stopped.

You let out a whine, and he chuckled, his hands squeezing your ass.

"I don't think I'm quite ready for this to end," he murmured, pulling out.

Elijah's hands moved down to your arms, pulling you forward and guiding you onto his lap. You straddled him, your hands still bound behind your back, and his cock brushed against your wet core.

"Do you remember how you used to love riding me?" He whispered, his lips brushing against yours.

You nodded, eager for him to fill you. He grinned and lifted your hips, slowly lowering you onto his cock. He gripped your hips and began to move you up and down. You moaned, resting your head on his shoulder and grinding your hips.

Klaus positioned himself behind you, and you felt his hand trail down your back. His fingers traced the line of your ass, and then he spread your cheeks, exposing your other hole.

"You are such a pretty little thing," he murmured, pressing a finger against your ass, "all tied up and at our mercy,"

He slid a finger inside, the tight ring of muscle giving way. You moaned, the feeling of being filled by both of them overwhelming.

Klaus coated his cock with a lubricant and pressed it against your ass. Elijah held you still, his lips claiming yours in a heated kiss. You could feel the tip of Klaus' cock pushing into your ass and whimpered, the stretch bordering on painful.

Klaus slowly sank into you, letting out a low groan. He began to thrust, his movements slow and deep. The feeling of both of them inside you was almost too much, and you moaned, your body trembling.

"Are you enjoying this, love?" Klaus asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"Yes," you whimpered, unable to form a coherent sentence.

Elijah kissed along your jaw, his fingers digging into your hips, guiding your movements, rocking you back and forth on their cocks.

You felt the heat of their bodies pressed against yours, and their hands were everywhere, stroking, caressing, and teasing. The smell of their sweat and desire was intoxicating, and you were lost in the pleasure, your mind spinning.

Klaus pulled on your wrists, his mouth colliding with the side of your neck. You cried out as he bit into you, his fangs piercing your skin. Elijah kissed the other side, mirroring his brother's bite.

The combination of the pleasure and pain was too much, and you came, your orgasm crashing through your body. You writhed in their arms, your body trembling, waves of ecstasy washing over you.

They kept you pinned between them, bouncing you up and down, their movements rough and animalistic. The belt came loose, and your hands came free.

You wrapped your arms around Elijah's neck as another orgasm hit, this one even more intense than the last. He smiled at the look of pure bliss on your face and kissed you, his hands tangled in your hair.

Klaus groaned, pressing himself deep as he came, then he slowly pulled out, kissing the nape of your neck.

Elijah soon followed, his eyes meeting yours as he shuddered, spilling into you. You collapsed against him, exhausted and sated. He gently stroked your hair, his gaze soft and loving.

"I forgot how good you are at that," you mumbled, your eyes drifting closed.

He chuckled, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your skin. You snuggled against his chest, enjoying the warmth of his embrace.

Klaus laid down next to the two of you, his eyes bright, and a smile on his face. "What about me? Any thoughts?" He asked, and you giggled, the alcohol still coursing through your system.

"You were pretty good, too," you replied, reaching out and patting his arm.

He grinned, his hand coming to rest on the top of your thigh. "I don't know why we didn't do this earlier, it would have saved us all a lot of trouble," he said.

Elijah nodded, a small smirk on his lips, "you may be right,"

"I'm sorry for leaving you the way I did," you said softly, running your hands through Elijah's hair, "and thank you for coming to save me,"

He nodded, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead, then helped you off his lap, and onto the bed, covering the three of you with a silk sheet.

"Do you mind if I stay here a while? It's been so long since I've had a good night's sleep," you mumbled, your fingers curling into Elijah's chest, holding him tight.

He didn't reply, just pulled you closer, his hand stroking your back, lulling you to sleep.

"We've got all the time in the world, love," Klaus said softly, his voice barely a whisper, "we'll make sure no more nasty witches get their hands on you,"

It had been so long since you had felt so content, you could feel the warmth of their skin, smell their cologne, hear the beat of their hearts. You could taste the blood and whiskey in the air, and it felt right, like you had come home.

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sunnybunnyy2 · 1 year ago

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DARK CELL MASTERLIST

Daryl had gotten used to the loneliness of the cell that he had been banished to. A part of him felt like he deserved it. If he didn’t punch Negan, Glenn would be at home with his pregnant wife, Maggie, and Daryl would be home with his family. But he made his bed and now he has to lie with the guilt. A girl watching him from across the sanctuary catches his eye. He wasn’t sure who she was or why she was helping him when he certainly didn’t deserve it. The guilt was beginning to take over him when this teenage girl began to bring him food, not knowing she was his light at the end of a dark tunnel. He needed to get the hell out of the sanctuary- but he was going to need her help to do it.

Chapter one: Dark Cell

Chapter two: Two Wrongs Don’t Make A Right

Chapter three: Father Knows Best

Chapter four:

Chapter: ??

This is ALL purely platonic, there is no love interest, Daryl has NO inappropriate thoughts about reader and same goes for every other character!

If everything goes how I want it too I will post atleast once a week maybe even more. I’m not sure how long this will go on for but I will be willing to do one shots after the timeskip if you guys want that.

Please request if you have any ideas that you would like me to write!<3

#the walking dead x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon x platonic!reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #negan smith x daughter!reader #the walking dead x platonic!reader #the walking dead x teen!reader #Dark cell masterlist

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sareeen · 8 months ago

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Unknown Touches for a Lady

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: Y/N never thought she would be married to the spymaster of the Night Court. However, they are undoubtedly married and nothing will save her from the night ahead of her.

Warnings: smut, loss of virginity, lovely azriel

Here –> Part 2 Masterlist

A/N: The idea that popped into my head today and I didn't get up until I wrote it. :)

English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistake.

Y/N felt the bed sink in beside her and someone, her husband, fold up the edge of the blanket and slip quietly under the duvet.

Y/N felt as if she would suffocate with fear.

Two hours ago, they had gone through the ceremony where she was forced to marry the spymaster of the Night Court in a luxurious setting.

For a purpose, her father said as he adjusted her veil.

It was nothing more than a means to make a deal for the benefit of the Court of Nightmares. More food, more power in exchange for soldiers and a girl.

In fact, her family had eagerly offered her to the High Lord as a prospective bride, and as she was educated and intelligent enough to be chosen over the other women in the Court of Nightmares.

For a long time Y/N did not know to whom she was to be married. She had been raised from a very young age to believe that she was destined to be a wife and mother, but she never thought that it would be him.

But now she was given a chance. A chance to leave that damn evil place and be away from her family.

Today, for the first time in her life, she could see the stars and feel the gentle touch of the breeze on her skin, bringing tears to her eyes. If she was lucky, perhaps her husband would never send her back there. If she obeyed him – though the very thought made her feel sick. All her existence had consisted of nothing but submitting to others. She would have liked to have ruled over herself, but it would always be a dream, now that she was married.

The shadowsinger moved beside her, causing every cell in Y/N to warn her to run.

Well, it's happening, she thought despondently to herself and closed her eyes.

She knew exactly what her duty was. What must happen.

For this marriage to be legitimate, Y/N must give in to her husband and willingly spread her legs.

“I know you don't want to,” he said softly behind her back before gently placing his hand on her hip. Y/N jumped at the sudden touch. “But we have a duty, Y/N.”

She shuddered as the spymaster spoke her name out of his mouth. His voice was soft, but still a warning tone mixed into the words. She had no doubt that he was not often contradicted and may the Great Mother have mercy on whoever tried.

Y/N licked her lips and let out a shaky sigh, then nodded. Trembling, she turned onto her back and it took her a few seconds to gather her courage and look at her husband.

Azriel watched her silently, his figure illuminated by the faint moonlight that filtered through the gaps in the drawn curtains. Y/N could see his broad shoulder, the swelling muscles in his arm, and even the dark outline of his tattoo in the dim light.

Y/N could feel the golden brown eyes watching her warily as they scrutinized her. She was surprised to find that the shadowsinger did not return her stare for a moment and kept his gaze on her face the whole time. Perhaps he was waiting for her to make a move.

Maybe he was waiting for her to initiate.

Y/N's mouth went dry at the thought that he might have wanted her to. However, she had been raised to do what others wanted, so with all her presence of mind she slowly touched her palm to Azriel's chest. She felt warm, silky skin and felt a steady heartbeat beneath her hand as she slid it a little further away. She heard the Illyrian take a deep breath and the scarred finger she had put the gold ring on a few hours ago gently stroked the cool back of her hand.

Y/N was so startled for a moment that she forgot to breathe. Never had she imagined that the dreaded shadowsinger could be so gentle as he was now.

Perhaps behind the scars and shadows there was not a monster, but a feeling being.

A tiny germ of hope began to blossom in Y/N and she continued to caress him a little more boldly. Her hand glided down Azriel's muscular arm and Y/N was startled to find herself enjoying it.

The way the steely muscles tighten under her touch, the heat radiating from his body as if beaming up at her, inviting her to slide closer and enjoy it.

Azriel, as if hearing her thoughts, took hold of her waist and gently pulled her towards him until their chests touched.

Y/N's nightgown was so thin that the spymaster could easily feel that her nipples were hard and straining against his chest.

Azriel groaned, barely audible, and something inside Y/N stirred at the sound.

Confused, she felt wetness between her legs and some primal longing that she had never experienced before took her. She almost longed for him to return her touch. To have him caress her heated skin. It was so unfamiliar to her, and yet it was as if her body knew how to press herself against him.

Unexpectedly, she felt the hardness against her belly that made her go rigid, but Azriel just squeezed the soft flesh of her hip and didn't let her move away.

“No,” he whispered and buried his face in her hair, his thumb tracing soothing circles around her waist. “Don't be frightened. This is what happens when –“

“I'm not so clueless that I don't know what it is,” Y/N said, blushing. She thanked the Gods for the darkness. “The women explained everything to me before the wedding anyway. That this is what it takes to conceive a marriage and it's the natural reaction of every man when he touches a woman in a loose fitting nightgown.”

Azriel remained silent, but eventually he involuntarily chuckled to himself. Y/N smiled vaguely, but the man's shaking chest and voice filled her with a certain joy. It reassured her.

“Not all men,” Azriel said, wrapping a lock of her hair around his finger and tugging it gently. “But you're certainly beautiful and you're wearing very little nightgown.”

“I didn't choose it” Y/N muttered grumpily as she lowered her head to look at the said piece. It was a little translucent and she felt a twinge of anxiety when she first saw that she would have to wear it tonight.

“I thought so,” he muttered. “If it's any comfort I think it looks good on you and I like it very much.”

She had heard rumors of the shadowsinger that he hardly spoke, but they were now lying here and he was obviously talkative.

Y/N finally understood that this was Azriel's way of distracting her and calming the emotions that were raging inside her.

Her fear of the unknown and to make her comfortable with the situation. No one had ever done anything like that for her, not even her mother.

She swallowed hard and, not giving herself time to drift away from the thought, leaned into him and pressed her lips to his. She didn't know how to do this, since tonight she was getting the first kiss of her life from Azriel at the altar in front of hundreds of guests. It was more like a little peck than a kiss.

She understood this when Azriel recovered from his momentary shock and kissed her back. This was different.

The spymaster's hand slid into her hair, his fingers tangled in her ringlets as he gently tilted her head into position and everything just got better.

The angle of the kiss changed, deepened much more and something like an excited tremor began in Y/N's belly. The scent of Azriel filled her senses, the cool night mist and cedar balming her soul, her nails involuntarily digging into Azriel's biceps and it was as if he lost all restraint at that small movement.

He rolled Y/N onto her back, then towered over her and kissed her fiercely. His tongue stroked along her lower lip as if asking for admission and she hesitantly opened it and Azriel's tongue immediately made its way to hers. Y/N let her husband guide her and she was almost giddy with pleasure.

She enjoyed the way Azriel's tongue glided over hers, the weight of him pressing her almost uncomfortably into the mattress and the hot hardness between her legs.

The shadowsinger's lips moved to her chin, and Y/N gasped for air as he moved lower and lower, finding a spot in the hollow between her shoulder and neck that made her hip snap away from the bed and involuntarily rub against Azriel.

Heat flooded her face, but she was unable to pull away from him and with long, sensual strokes she wanted more, which he acknowledged with soft moans.

Strong hands now gripped her thighs and Azriel moved lower, then bucked his hips and pushed against her. His pants and Y/N's underwear blocked them, but Azriel touched a space between her legs and moved as she imagined he would when he will be inside her.

She never thought it would be like this. This overwhelming feeling of his body moving over her, which he'd then elicited from her. Sighs erupted from deep within her body and Azriel kissed her as if to absorb the sounds she was making.

“That's it” Azriel gasped as Y/N arched and their hips met. “Just like that, my beauty.”

She groaned at the endearment and watched the wings spread wide on Azriel's back with a glazed look.

The membrane made the room even darker as it blocked out what little light had crept into the room. She wanted to feel the feel of it under her fingers.

“You can touch them,” he whispered, his breathing labored by Y/N's ear. “But only if I can touch you.”

“But you already do” she gasped, a thin layer of sweat beading on her forehead.

Azriel then let go of her thighs and slid between them, then reached down to her panties and pressed the outer curve of his hand to the spot where Y/N's body throbbed and almost burned. Gasping for air, panting, she made sounds that she should have been ashamed of, but her mind was in a fog and she could not contain herself. She would be ashamed later, but for now she could only cling to Azriel's strong shoulder.

“Here, Y/N” Azriel chuckled. “This is where I want to touch you.”

Y/N bit her lip at her husband's lustfuled words and nodded.

“There –“ her throat was tight, she could hardly get the words out. “It's good there.”

“Is it?”

“Yes” she cried softly.

His hand had pulled her underwear aside and was now touching her bare skin, causing Y/N's head to bob to the side and she clamped her hand over her mouth to muffle her voice.

However, Azriel stopped her hard and gave a disgruntled squeak.

“No, Y/N,” he muttered darkly. “I want to hear you.”

His wings fluttered, drawing her attention, and she stretched out her arm. When she touched the taut, silky membrane, Azriel shuddered and rubbed her harder between her legs.

Y/N loved what she was eliciting from her husband, so she repeated the motion and this time touched her fingernail to it a little, letting it gently scratch the inside of the wing.

“Cauldron” Azriel almost gritted his teeth in pleasure and buried his face in her neck. “You drive me crazy.”

Y/N felt the same way. His hand between her legs, his lip now brushing tiny kisses on her neck. It was killing her and she felt like a bowstring being stretched, ready to snap at any moment. Something was building inside her, the warmth in the pit of her belly seemed to be tightening and it was almost unbearable.

Then Azriel slipped a finger into the wetness between her legs and she gasped for air. It was a stinging sensation, but as he curled his finger he hit a good spot in her and she began to moan.

When Azriel gently pulled it out and then slipped back in, she heard that wet squeaking sound and it made her even more excited.

She wanted to touch him too. So much so that she had the courage to slip her hand into Azriel's pants and touch his hardness.

“Y/N” Azriel gasped as he pulled away from the delicate skin of her neck and peered down at her in the darkness.

“Teach me, please” she whispered with heavy lids. “How to touch you so that you feel as I feel now.”

Azriel closed his eyes and laughed softly.

“I already feel like that” he panted, but he helped Y/N and showed her how to take him in her grip. How tightly to squeeze and when he moved his hip to move into her hand, Y/N felt herself die instantly in admiration.

“Honey” Azriel sighed. “I need to be inside you.”

She knew what he meant.

She was a little afraid, because the women had said it would hurt terribly. However, what they had just done with Azriel had never been told that she would feel like this, so she hoped the sex would be different. Just as fantastic as this.

She opened her legs wider, giving him permission to make her his. Azriel immediately pulled her underwear off her and his own pants, then took her in his arms.

He adjusted himself between her legs but stopped and the golden brown eyes almost burned her face.

“This might hurt a little” he whispered to her and stroked her cheek affectionately. “But I'll try to do it as slowly and gently as possible.”

“It's fine, Azriel” she wrapped an arm around his shoulder and that's when she felt him shiver slightly too. Well, he was nervous too. “I'm used to the pain.”

Azriel froze, then sank down on top of her, so that their naked bodies were touching.

“From now on, no one will ever hurt you again,” he growled, his voice hard and purposeful.

Then he entered her, very slowly and Y/N gasped. She tensed in pain and whimpered and Azriel took her head in both hands and kissed her.

Finally when she thought she would pass out, she felt she couldn't take it. They lay there for a long time, but Azriel pushed forward and forward and then stopped.

Y/N sighed shakily and when her pain turned into a dull throbbing, he moved.

It was awfully strange the way Azriel moved inside her. It was unfamiliar, but after a while it got better and she gasped and clung to Azriel as if he would hold her and not let her fall over the precipice.

Emboldened, he thrust his hips faster and harder toward her and pulled her toward him with one hand, making them both gasp for air.

“Gods” Y/N broke from Azriel's lips and she groaned. Somehow the man moved in a different way and it drove her mad. “There!”

As if born to pleasure his wife, he repeated the motion again and his hand slid to her breast. He took one of her nipples between his fingers, then leaned in and licked it, whereupon Y/N clamped herself around her husband's member and moaned.

“Come for me, honey.”

His finger slid to her clit and rubbed it, which triggered something inside her.

Lights exploded behind her eyelids, her insides clenched and an animalistic moan tore from her. The heat was overwhelming her and she was sure it was over, she would die here and now, but Gods - if it is death she will be glad to go with it.

Azriel's hips slammed hard against her and she felt something warm flood over her and he shuddered. She wrapped her arms around him as if to protect him and their sweaty foreheads touched as they panted with the sensations that overwhelmed them.

Y/N opened her eyes and studied Azriel's face in the dim light. His handsome face was now relaxed and a small smile lurked at the corner of his mouth, his long black lashes casting shadows across his cheek. Her breath caught as she opened his eyes and his golden brown gaze locked on her.

There was an air of kindness and contentment that was evident in the way his hand stroked gently down her side.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly and pulled out of her, careful not to hurt her. The sheet was a little bloody, but neither of them cared.

“Yes,” Y/N whispered and turned to face him as he lay down next to her. Azriel covered them with the blanket and took her hand. “It didn't hurt that much.”

He smiled and kissed her hand.

“It won't after this.”

“Will it be after this?” asked Y/N shyly but hopefully.

“There will be a lot after this.”

Y/N almost burst with joy. Maybe this marriage won't be so bad after all.

#acotar #acomaf #a court of thrones and roses #azriel x reader #acowar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x you

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lilacxquartz · 29 days ago

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part 17 of 19 of kinktober: trapped

pyramid head x gn!reader

plot: while exploring the town, you find yourself incapacitated in the worst possible position — themes: warning for non con, dark smut, gender neutral reader, size difference, monster fucking, horror, gender neutral smut — w.c: 700ish

kinktober masterlist • main masterlist • ao3

You were incapacitated.

Trapped in between the barely pried open iron bars, providing just big enough of a gap for your upper body to squeeze through and then… stall. In a way, it was humiliating, but in another sense, it was also terrifying because existing within the town as a whole was a death sentence in its own right. From one little miscalculation—you had potentially doomed yourself.

You tried to dislodge yourself again but the bars were too narrowly placed and you couldn’t push or pull yourself neither back nor forth and in doing so, you only found yourself more stuck than before. Panic quickly swept through your being in violent waves, abandoning all sense of rationality in favour of a hurried escape but nothing was working—but then finally, you heard it—the all too familiar scrape of metal, the thud of staggering footsteps—oh no, no, no… he was here.

You turned your head slightly back to just about catch a glimpse of him filling out the doorway, blocking all gaps of light that otherwise cut into the cell. In an attempt to avoid your flesh likely meeting the blade, you strove to push yourself forward, to at least nullify his efforts to strike you down… but then something else followed suit.

You froze as you felt his calloused hands brush around the soft contours of your exposed flesh; his fingers breaching the torn fabric and tearing away the cloth from the skin, readily exposing you to him. You remained statued in place as you feared for the worst, unable to quite comprehend what he was actually doing to you; almost delicately feeling you up—pushing—spreading your legs apart, ripping away at anything that acted as a barrier between you and him.

You tensed as you quickly understood what was following suit; feeling the tip of something very obvious poke against your most vulnerable parts. You writhed around and squirmed under his grip like a fish out of water, only to remain caught and hooked in his presence, feeling him drive into you in a near hungry pursuit. You gritted your teeth as you felt him force himself inside of you, feeling overwhelmed by his monstrous length that completely filled you out to the brim.

With shuddering, quaking cries, you softly wept as he continued to take in his brutal girth, feeling his cock slide in and out of your insides and stretch you out beyond a recoverable limit. With an unforgiving pace, Pyramid Head continued to hilt himself into your core, feverishly bucking into your body as a radiating, almost scalding pain akin to searing agony settled within the confines of your form. Of course however, he showed you no mercy, pounding into you with a near primal fervour; his hips slamming against your behind with each sawing motion.

Somehow, he grew needier as he continued to violate you—his fingernails digging bleeding crescents into the soft peaks of your ass, kneading against the cushioned skin and spreading you open as far as you could physically handle. It was as if he was trying to force you to accommodate the entire capacity of his impossible length, taking advantage of the limiting position, knowing that you couldn’t just pull yourself away.

Nearing his impending climax; his movements soon became more erratic and maybe even sloppy. He leaned his towering form closer wherever he could press against your bare back—causing the iron bars to crack open further—growling out heated breaths that rolled hot down your spine. Each passing thrust caused for you to shake, prompting you to involuntarily roll your eyes to the back of your head and perhaps even see stars from just how overwhelming it all truly was.

Just as you were about to pass out however, the monster finally came undone with one final violent rut of his stuttering hips. You gasped as you felt a stream of hot oozing warmth fill your senses to such an extent that your stomach nearly bulged from his pent up release.

Thinking it was all over, you tried to close your eyes to recover—but then you were promptly taken out of the cell, readily carried around like a rag doll, to be used and paraded around per each of his passing whims.

In a way you were thankful that he wasn’t going to end you outright.

But then you realised what your life was about to become and that much had otherwise terrified you.

Not quite a mercy after all and worse yet, rather a sentence in the hell you found yourself in.

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solxamber · 2 months ago

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Trash Novel Chronicles: I'd Rather Date the Male Lead's Dad - Lilia Vanrouge x reader

When you end up in your best friend's favourite but absurd novel about breaking a fae prince's curse, you didn't expect to get attached to his little family too. Even more unexpected? You fell for the male lead's dad, but hey it looks like he likes you too.

Series Masterlist

You love your best friend. You really, really do. But sometimes—sometimes—the things they drag you into make you question your life choices. This time? It’s a novel. A bad one.

The plot is borderline unreadable, but somehow, it’s now your problem. Because of course it is.

“So, listen,” your friend had said, waving the book around like it was some kind of literary masterpiece. “Malleus Draconia, the fae prince, is cursed—chained up in this forest. The curse can only be broken by someone who isn’t attracted to him. But here’s the kicker: he’s so hot that no one can break the curse. For ten years.”

“Uh-huh.” You’d nodded along, already feeling your brain cells start to wave white flags of surrender. But your friend continued.

“The main character stumbles upon him after years of drama and frees him because they’re the only one not drooling over him. Then they fall in love, blah, blah, blah.”

At this point, you were barely listening. But then they dropped the bomb. Your eyes were shutting and you felt the sweet embrace of sleep call to you.

“Also, there’s this subplot where a magical plague of squirrels overruns the kingdom, the Saint betrays everyone by secretly being a double agent for some shadowy organization, and—get this—there’s a surprise paternity reveal where the devil is the father of the Saint who turns out to be the evil villain controlling everything.”

Your face had hit the pillow as your soul left your body.

And somehow, the next thing you remember is waking up dead. Or, more specifically, reincarnated. In the body of the heroine. In that story.

You can't believe the story was so terrible that it killed you.

The first thing you notice when you wake up is that the room is way too fancy for your tastes. The bed is massive, the sheets feel like they cost more than your entire existence, and the walls are adorned with tacky portraits of people who are probably supposed to be important.

“Oh, no,” you groan, rubbing your eyes. “This can’t be happening.”

But it is. You’re in the novel. The very one your friend had been yammering about. And not only are you in it, but you’ve woken up a full year before the plot is supposed to kick off. A year of waiting for terrible drama, an ex-fiancé who can’t take a hint, and a poor fae prince you’re supposed to rescue.

But you? Yeah, you’re not that patient.

“No way am I waiting a whole year for some garbage plot to unfold,” you mutter, throwing the covers off. “I’m just going to free Malleus now, take my reward, and live a quiet, drama-free life by the beach.”

With that plan firmly in mind, you march out the door.

It takes a bit of wandering through some overly cursed forest, but you eventually find Malleus’s “prison.” And honestly? It’s not nearly as dramatic as you expected.

There he is, sitting in the middle of a clearing, chained up in some kind of spooky-but-also-weirdly-ornate setup. He looks just as the novel described: tall, dark-haired, horns giving him an air of mystery and power. But what you weren’t prepared for? The way his eyes widen slightly in surprise when he sees you.

“I wasn’t expecting… company,” Malleus says, his voice soft, almost tentative.

You pause for a second. He looks intimidating, sure, but there’s something oddly… sweet about him. Like a guy who’d get excited over a party invite and then be too shy to actually show up.

“Yeah, I’m just here to get this whole ‘curse-breaking’ thing out of the way,” you say casually, walking up to the chains. “I’ve got stuff to do.”

Malleus blinks, looking a bit confused. “You… are not attracted to me?”

You snort. “Nah, not really. You’re nice to look at, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve got my own problems. Let’s just get you free so I can collect my reward and move on.”

He still looks mildly surprised but nods. “Very well.”

With a shrug, you reach out and touch the chains. There’s a brief flicker of light, and they dissolve. Just like that.

Malleus looks down at his freed wrists, clearly shocked. “It… it worked.”

“Yeah, wild, right?” you say, brushing off your hands. “So, about that reward…”

Before you can finish, Malleus stands and, in a tone so polite it makes you feel guilty, says, “You have freed me. Please, allow me to invite you to stay at my castle. As a guest.”

You blink at him. “Uh, no thanks. I’m good.”

Malleus’s expression falters for a moment, and you swear he looks a little sad. “But… I would like to repay you for your kindness.”

He’s giving you this look, all wide-eyed and hopeful, and you realize—he just wants to hang out.

Oh no.

“Ugh, fine,” you groan. “I’ll stick around for a bit.”

The way his face lights up is honestly too pure for someone who was supposed to be all intimidating and all-powerful.

When you arrive at Malleus’s castle, things get interesting real fast. You’re greeted by his entourage—Sebek, who looks like he’s one insult away from going Super Saiyan; Silver, who’s napping on his feet; and Lilia, who seems like the embodiment of chaos.

Sebek is the first to speak, scowling at you with righteous fury. “How DARE you approach Lord Malleus with such insolence!”

You roll your eyes. “I just freed him. You’re welcome.”

Sebek looks like he’s about to explode, but Lilia steps forward, his sharp grin making you instantly suspicious. “Oh? You broke the curse? Without being… swayed by our dear Malleus’s charms?”

“Yup,” you say, popping the ‘p.’ “Didn’t even break a sweat.”

Lilia’s eyes gleam with amusement. “Fascinating. You must have quite the willpower. Or perhaps…” He looks you up and down, clearly intrigued. “You simply have different tastes?”

You blink. Then, without thinking, you point at him. “Actually, yeah. You’re hot.”

There’s a beat of stunned silence, during which Sebek looks like he’s been hit with a brick, and Lilia lets out a delighted laugh.

“Oh, you are a delight,” Lilia says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Perhaps you should stay longer.”

“You think I’m joking, but I’m not,” you deadpan, earning a grin from Lilia.

Silver, meanwhile, is still half-asleep and completely unfazed by your chaos. “Good job on freeing Malleus,” he mutters, yawning.

Malleus, who has been silent this whole time, finally speaks up. “You… do not find me attractive?”

You turn to him and sigh. “Look, it’s not that you’re not attractive. You’re, like… objectively pretty. But I don’t really go for the whole cursed prince thing.”

Malleus seems to process this slowly, his brows furrowing slightly. “I see…”

“But don’t worry,” you add quickly, feeling a bit bad for the guy. “You’re sweet. It’s a compliment, really.”

Malleus looks a little less confused and a bit more happy. “Sweet? No one has ever called me that before.”

You snort. “Well, I’m calling it now. And hey, you’ve got your freedom, right? Now you can get invited to all those parties you wanted.”

At this, Malleus’s eyes widen slightly, and you realize—oh no, he’s the type who really just wants to be invited to stuff.

“Oh,” you mutter under your breath, “you’re like a giant puppy, aren’t you?”

Malleus tilts his head, clearly confused, but before he can ask, Lilia leans in with a knowing grin. “I think you’ll fit in just fine around here.”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “This is gonna be a long stay, isn’t it?”

Lilia’s smile widens. “Oh, most definitely.”

Later, you’re sitting around the dining hall with the group when Lilia casually brings up the dreaded plot points.

“So, when do you think the magical plague of squirrels will hit?” he asks, almost too casually.

You nearly choke on your drink. “The what now?”

“Oh, didn’t you know?” Lilia smirks. “There’s a prophecy. The squirrels will overrun the kingdom unless someone stops them.”

You blink. “This is real? I thought that part was a fever dream.”

Malleus nods seriously. “The squirrels are quite the threat.”

You slam your head on the table. “I’m trapped in a nightmare.”

Silver, half-asleep as always, just yawns. “I’ll take care of them. Probably.”

And that’s when you realize: maybe you should have let the curse be.

You didn’t mean for it to happen, but you and Malleus… well, you’ve become friends. It started small, mostly casual conversations where he’d hover around, awkward but eager, just happy to be included. There was this one time you invited him to tea, and the poor guy looked like he was about to cry from happiness. Now? You’re taking your frienship to the next level.

“Hey,” you say, strolling into the throne room where Malleus is doing the farthest thing from brooding. He’s just kind of standing there, staring out the window like he’s daydreaming about a really nice picnic. “Want to go to the market with me?”

The look on his face is priceless. His eyes widen like you’ve just handed him a golden ticket to the best party of the year. “You… want me to accompany you?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, as if this isn’t the biggest deal of his life. “I need to pick up some stuff, and I figured it’d be more fun with a friend. Plus, y’know, maybe someone will actually give me a discount if you’re there.”

Malleus looks like you just offered him the world “I would be honored.”

And that’s how you, Malleus, and the rest of his chaotic entourage—because of course they followed—ended up at the bustling market.

Sebek? Less than thrilled. In fact, you think he might actually be foaming at the mouth. “I cannot believe you are fraternizing with Lord Malleus so casually! Do you not understand the honor you’ve been given?!”

“Sebek,” you sigh, waving a hand dismissively, “we’ve been over this. I’m his friend. Friends do normal stuff together. You know, like going to the market.”

Sebek glares at you like you’ve just insulted his entire bloodline. “Lord Malleus does not engage in such trivialities!”

“Uh,” you glance over at Malleus, who is currently inspecting a row of intricately carved fruit. “He’s literally doing it right now, Sebek.”

Malleus turns to you, holding up a fruit shaped like a tiny dragon. “Would you like to try one? It is said to bring good fortune.”

You grin at him. “If you’re offering, I’m down.”

Sebek looks like he’s about to explode from sheer indignation.

“You dare—!”

“Sebek,” Malleus cuts in, his voice as gentle as ever. “I am quite enjoying myself. There’s no need to worry.”

You grin at the sight. “You’re really into this, huh?”

Malleus glances at you, a little bashful but still smiling. “I have never been invited to something like this before. It is… a new experience.”

Oh god, he’s so sweet. You feel like you’re corrupting a baby deer by dragging him into the real world, but it’s so worth it.

Lilia, however, is having the time of his life. He leans over, grinning like the mischievous little gremlin he is, and whispers in your ear, “I must say, you’ve got quite the charm. Lord Malleus rarely accepts invitations. You might be more important to him than you think.”

You snort. “Yeah, well, maybe he just really likes fruit.”

Lilia laughs, a sound that’s equal parts endearing and dangerous. “Or maybe he enjoys your company, hm?”

“Careful,” you say, flashing a grin. “Keep sweet-talking me like that, and I might start flirting back.”

Lilia’s eyes gleam with amusement. “Oh? I think I’d enjoy that.”

Oh god, he’s not backing down. Now you’re in the deep end. “Listen, if you keep going, I’m gonna have to ask if you’ve got plans for dinner.”

“I’m free this evening,” Lilia replies smoothly. “Shall I prepare a feast? Or perhaps we could have something more… intimate?”

You blink at him, unable to tell if he’s messing with you or if this is just how he operates. Either way, you’re so down to find out.

Before you can respond, Sebek cuts in, voice raised to what can only be described as ‘angry airhorn.’ “You will not speak so casually to Master Lilia!”

“Oh, Sebek, relax,” you say, patting him on the shoulder, which is a mistake because it feels like patting a brick wall. “He likes it.”

Lilia winks at you, thoroughly enjoying the chaos. “Indeed, I do.”

You smirk, shooting Lilia a playful look. “See? The man’s practically begging for attention.”

Malleus, meanwhile, has been watching this entire exchange with mild confusion. “Is this what humans call… flirting?”

You give him an exaggerated nod. “Yup. It’s a sacred tradition. Very serious stuff.”

“I see,” Malleus muses, looking between you and Lilia. “Perhaps I should try it as well?”

“Oh, please don’t,” Sebek groans, looking absolutely horrified at the idea of Malleus flirting. “Lord Malleus, you are above such trivial pursuits!”

Lilia is practically cackling at this point. “Now, now, Sebek. It wouldn’t hurt to let Malleus explore new experiences.”

You grin and elbow Malleus lightly. “Don’t listen to Sebek. You can totally flirt if you want.”

Malleus, sweet as he is, looks completely serious when he asks, “What would I say? I do not wish to offend.”

You pause, trying very hard not to laugh. “Okay, how about this? Try complimenting someone. Like…” You glance around and point at a vendor selling flowers. “Tell them they have lovely flowers.”

Malleus nods, taking this very seriously, and walks over to the vendor. You, Lilia, Sebek, and Silver (who’s been napping the whole time) watch as Malleus, ever the gentleman, says to the vendor, “Your flowers… are as radiant as the moonlight.”

The vendor looks flustered, blushing furiously. “Oh! Thank you, My Lord!”

You can’t help but laugh. “See? You’re a natural.”

Malleus returns to your side, looking pleased with himself. “I believe that went well.”

“Yeah, now you just have to work on *accepting* compliments,” you say with a wink, and Malleus tilts his head slightly in confusion.

“Accepting?”

“Yeah,” you grin, “like, if I were to tell you you’re the sweetest giant fae-dragon puppy I’ve ever met, you’d say…?”

Malleus looks genuinely flustered, his cheeks tinting the faintest shade of pink. “I… would say… thank you?”

“Good enough,” you laugh, nudging him playfully. “We’ll work on it.”

Sebek is muttering to himself about ‘disrespect’ and ‘sacrilege,’ but Malleus looks… happy. Like, really happy. He’s still a little awkward, sure, but you can tell he’s having a good time. Probably more fun than he’s had in years.

Lilia, meanwhile, is back at your side, leaning in close with that smirk of his. “You’re quite the influence, you know.”

“Yeah, well,” you grin, “someone’s gotta drag him into the real world.”

“Perhaps you’ll drag me into something as well?” Lilia purrs, his voice low and teasing.

You blink at him. “Keep talking, and I might actually propose to you.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Lilia says, eyes glinting with mischief. “Perhaps later tonight?”

“Is that an invitation?” you quip, raising an eyebrow.

Sebek practically has steam coming out of his ears. “Master Lilia!”

But Lilia just laughs, utterly unfazed. “Oh, Sebek. You really must learn to loosen up.”

Silver yawns loudly, cutting through Sebek’s rant like a chainsaw through butter. “Can we get food now?”

You snort. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

Malleus, ever the polite host, nods eagerly. “Yes, let us dine together. A family outing is not complete without a meal.”

You pause, blinking. Family? Did he just call this a family outing?

Lilia catches your expression and chuckles. “Oh dear, it seems Malleus has grown quite fond of you.”

You shoot him a playful glare. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”

“Not at all,” Lilia says, smiling knowingly. “In fact, I believe it’s quite the opposite.”

Before you can respond, Malleus steps up, still radiating pure joy. “Would you do me the honor of joining me for dinner tonight? I would very much enjoy your company.”

Sebek looks like he’s about to self-destruct from sheer disbelief, but you? You can’t help but grin. “Sure, why not? But if I catch you stealing my dessert, it’s game over.”

Malleus chuckles, his awkwardness fading just a bit. “I shall do my best to restrain myself.”

Lilia leans over, voice low and teasing again. “Perhaps you’ll save dessert for me, hm?”

You snort. “Don’t push your luck, old man.”

“Ah, but I’m a fae. Luck is my specialty.”

You shake your head, grinning as you walk alongside Malleus, who’s positively glowing with happiness. Yeah, this is one weird, dysfunctional family, but maybe you like it that way.

It’s quiet tonight, the kind of quiet that settles deep in your bones, making you feel both peaceful and unbearably restless. You find yourself standing on a balcony, overlooking the courtyard bathed in moonlight. The cool breeze whispers through the trees, the scent of night-blooming flowers drifting lazily through the air.

Lilia stands beside you, leaning against the stone railing, his usual playful demeanor absent. In its place is a rare solemnity, something you’ve only seen glimpses of before. You glance at him, noting the way the moonlight catches in his hair, casting soft shadows across his face. It feels... strange, seeing him like this. So serious, so quiet.

After a long silence, he speaks, his voice soft but weighted with emotion. “I was terrified, you know. Of losing him.”

You don’t need to ask who he’s talking about. Malleus. The curse that had wrapped around him for so long, a dark cloud that threatened to take him away. You had been the unexpected catalyst for breaking it, and while you hadn’t fully understood the gravity of it at the time, you’re beginning to now.

Lilia continues, his gaze fixed on the stars above. “I’ve lived a long time. I’ve seen many things, lost many people... but the thought of losing him...” He trails off, his voice catching in a way that makes your heart ache. “It would have broken me.”

You swallow, unsure of what to say. What can you say to something like that? You’re just... you. You never asked to be involved in any of this, never imagined that you’d become such an important part of these people’s lives. But here you are.

“I didn’t do anything special,” you finally manage, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I was just... there.”

Lilia turns to look at you, and there’s something deep in his eyes—something raw and real that takes your breath away. “Sometimes just being there is enough,” he says quietly. “You saved him. And in doing so, you saved me too.”

You shift uncomfortably, not because of his words, but because of the way they tug at something deep inside of you. A part of you that you’ve been trying to keep buried for as long as you’ve been in this strange, unfamiliar world.

You’re silent for a long time, your gaze fixed on the moonlit sky. The memories of your old life swirl in your mind—your family, your best friend, all the people you’ve left behind. You haven’t spoken about it to anyone here, not in detail. It feels too dangerous, too vulnerable. But standing here, under the moonlight with Lilia, you feel like maybe... just maybe... you can share a piece of it.

“I miss them,” you admit softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “My family. My best friend. I miss... home.”

Lilia doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his presence beside you, warm and steady. He doesn’t press for details, doesn’t ask questions you’re not ready to answer. He just listens, and somehow, that’s enough.

You take a deep breath, the cool night air filling your lungs. “It’s hard,” you continue, your voice shaking slightly. “Being here. Being away from them. Sometimes it feels like... like I’m losing pieces of myself. Like I’m forgetting what it felt like to be... whole.”

Lilia’s hand gently rests on your shoulder, a comforting weight that grounds you. “You haven’t lost yourself,” he says quietly. “Not even a little.”

You close your eyes, letting his words wash over you. You don’t know if he’s right, but in this moment, you want to believe him. You want to believe that despite everything, despite the distance and the pain and the uncertainty, you’re still... you.

For a long time, the two of you stand in silence, the only sounds the soft rustling of the trees and the distant chirping of crickets. The moon hangs heavy in the sky, casting everything in a silvery glow. There’s a quiet understanding between you and Lilia, a shared pain that neither of you needs to fully explain.

Eventually, Lilia speaks again, his voice so soft it almost blends with the wind. “The world can be a cruel place,” he murmurs. “But it can also be kind. And in moments like this... it feels just a little more bearable, doesn’t it?”

You nod, your throat tight with unshed tears. “Yeah,” you whisper. “It does.”

The night stretches on, and though neither of you say anything more, there’s a comfort in the silence. A bond formed in the quiet acknowledgment of each other’s pain. And for the first time in a long while, you feel like you’re not quite so alone.

Maybe, just maybe, you’ll be okay.

You’re not entirely sure how you ended up here, but somehow, you’re on a date with Lilia. Yes, that Lilia—lord of chaos, culinary adventurer, and general source of havoc.

The setting is picturesque enough: a meadow at sunset, complete with wildflowers and a gentle breeze. At least, it would be picturesque if not for the feast Lilia has prepared, which has a worrying amount of color, movement, and mystery.

“Surprise is the key to a romantic evening,” Lilia declares as he gestures proudly over the assortment of dishes.

You take a moment to assess the display. There’s a vibrantly colored stew that seems to be emitting steam with a life of its own. A platter of vegetables is twitching as if they’re reconsidering their life choices. And there’s a pie—definitely a pie—with something that looks suspiciously like an eyeball poking out from under the crust.

Lilia smiles at you, eyes glinting. “Would you like to try the stew first, my dear? It’s my own special concoction.”

You stare at it, then at him. “How many people have survived eating this?”

Lilia leans in, eyes full of mischief. “Define survived.”

You grin. “Only one way to find out, right?” Before he can respond, you reach for the bowl and take a large spoonful of the stew. Lilia’s eyebrows rise, clearly impressed by your boldness.

It tastes... unusual. Like someone mixed spicy peppers, sweet berries, and some kind of very sharp herb. You take another bite, considering.

Lilia watches you, waiting for a reaction. “Well?” he asks, a hopeful glint in his eye.

You swallow, then nod thoughtfully. “It’s... actually good. Really good, in fact.”

Lilia blinks, his expression shifting from mischief to genuine surprise. “Really?”

You nod again, going in for a third bite, savoring the strange combination of flavors. “Yeah! I mean, it’s different, but in a good way. The spice, the sweetness... it kind of works.”

Lilia’s face lights up, his delight palpable. “You truly mean it? My culinary prowess is usually met with... trepidation.”

“Trepidation might be an understatement,” you say with a laugh. “But honestly? I think people don’t give you enough credit.”

From somewhere nearby, a strangled gasp echoes across the meadow.

“Master Lilia!” Sebek’s voice rings out, sounding more horrified than ever. You glance in the direction of the bushes where, sure enough, they’re rustling. Apparently, Sebek has taken it upon himself to supervise this date from afar.

Lilia chuckles, clearly enjoying Sebek's reaction as much as yours. “Oh, my dear Sebek. One day, you shall learn that adventure begins in the kitchen.”

You take a sip of the iridescent liquid before you—a drink that looks more like a potion than anything else. It’s sparkling, and it has the distinct taste of... glittery fruit juice? You’re not sure, but it’s oddly refreshing.

Lilia eyes you, his smile turning softer, more genuine. “I must say, you are full of surprises. Most would have fainted by now.”

“Hey, I can handle a little excitement,” you say, reaching for one of the twitching vegetables.

Lilia watches in awe as you pop it into your mouth and chew. “And?” he asks, almost breathless.

You blink. “Crunchy. Kind of earthy. I like it.”

Lilia’s smile widens, his eyes twinkling with delight. “Oh, how wonderful! My dear, you truly are one of a kind.”

Sebek’s dismayed groan echoes once again, and you laugh, glancing toward the bushes. “I think we’re breaking poor Sebek.”

“Well, that’s part of the fun, isn’t it?” Lilia replies, leaning closer to you. “And speaking of fun, I have something special for you.” He produces a bright blue flower, presenting it to you with a flourish.

You take it, giving it a cautious sniff. It smells like fresh-baked cookies, and you look at Lilia, raising an eyebrow. “A flower that smells like dessert? Now you’re really spoiling me.”

Lilia’s eyes soften, his voice lowering. “Only the best for someone who appreciates my unique touch.”

Before you can reply, there’s another voice—this one distinctly sleepy. “Father, what... what’s going on here?” Silver approaches, looking like he just woke up from a nap. He takes one look at the scene—the half-eaten dishes, the flower in your hand, and Lilia’s delighted expression—and sighs. “Are you actually eating this... willingly?”

You nod, grinning. “Turns out Lilia’s cooking isn’t so bad. It’s actually kind of great.”

Silver looks at you, then at Lilia, then back at you. He blinks, his brain clearly trying to process this information. “Father, are you using magic to manipulate their taste buds?”

Lilia puts a hand over his heart, looking offended. “Silver, how could you suggest such a thing? I assure you, our dear friend here is enjoying my cooking purely of their own volition.”

Silver sighs again, rubbing his temples. “I think I need another nap.”

Lilia laughs, turning his attention back to you, his eyes filled with affection. “You truly are something special, my dear. Few have ever dared, let alone enjoyed, my creations.”

You smile, giving his hand a squeeze. “Well, I guess I’m just full of surprises.”

Lilia leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Would it be too much to say I find you... irresistible?”

You chuckle, narrowing your eyes playfully. “Don’t push your luck, old man.”

Lilia smirks, his gaze full of warmth. “Ah, but pushing my luck is what I do best. Perhaps next time, I’ll cook an even more adventurous meal for us.”

You pretend to consider it, tapping your chin. “Define adventurous.”

Lilia’s eyes glint mischievously. “How about roasted phoenix feathers?”

“Phoenix feathers?” you echo, shaking your head with a laugh. “You know what? I think I like you just the way you are—absurd cooking experiments and all.”

Lilia’s expression softens, his smile turning tender. “I’m glad to hear it.”

With that, the two of you rise, arm in arm, leaving behind the bizarre remains of the meal. Somewhere in the bushes, Sebek is probably fuming, and Silver has most likely already fallen asleep again.

But as you glance at Lilia, whose eyes are still filled with excitement and warmth, you think that maybe absurd is just what you need.

You love this little family, but you had to gain equal footing with Sebek before you got attached any further. So you did what you thought would work the best— Challenge him in something he enjoys.

You and Sebek had been circling the field for a while now, your horses galloping side by side as you both tried to outpace each other. The competitive tension was thick in the air, though not hostile—it was more of an unspoken game to see who would crack first.

“So, you’re telling me you’ve been riding horses for *years*?” Sebek shouts over the wind, his eyes sharp with determination.

“Yup,” you reply, grinning as your horse picks up speed. “Equestrian club, since I was a kid. Surprised?”

Sebek huffs, his posture straight and rigid as always, but you can tell he’s impressed. “It’s… commendable. For a human, you’ve got some skill.”

“Some skill?” you tease, glancing over at him with a mischievous smile. “Is that all I get? Come on, Sebek, I thought you were competitive.”

He narrows his eyes at you, spurring his horse faster to pull ahead. “I am competitive! You’ll find I do not lose so easily.”

You laugh, nudging your horse to keep up. There’s a thrill in it—pushing each other, but not in a mean way. Sebek’s passion for horse riding matches your own, and it’s fun to finally find common ground with him. Plus, you’re enjoying the challenge.

The field blurs by as you both race toward the far fence, neither of you backing down. As you approach the finish line (or rather, the arbitrary spot you both decided was the end), you both cross it at nearly the same time, pulling your horses to a halt, panting slightly.

Sebek is the first to speak, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. “Hmph. You’re not bad.”

“Not bad? I’d say I’m pretty good,” you shoot back, grinning ear to ear.

Sebek scoffs, but there’s a lightness in his tone that wasn’t there before. “You’re still a human, but… I’ll admit, you ride with some honor.”

“Wow, high praise,” you tease, but you soften your smile. “Thanks, Sebek. You’re not half-bad yourself.”

For a split second, you think you catch the ghost of a smile on his face, but it quickly disappears as he straightens in his saddle. “Of course. Riding is in my blood.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Oh, obviously. I bet you were born in the saddle.”

“Perhaps I was,” Sebek says, completely serious. You stifle a laugh, realizing he probably believes that.

But before you can retort, Lilia rides up, his usual mischievous grin firmly in place. “Ah, what’s this? A friendly competition between two of my favorite people?”

“Master Lilia,” Sebek says, immediately shifting into soldier mode. “We were just—”

“Competing, yes, I can see that.” Lilia’s grin widens as he glances between the two of you. “I must say, the sight of you both racing like that was… quite exhilarating.”

You smirk, not missing a beat. “What, did we impress you?”

Lilia leans closer, voice dropping into a playful tone. “Oh, darling, I’ve been impressed by you for quite some time now.”

Sebek looks like he’s about to faint from sheer mortification. “MASTER LILIA! HUMAN!”

You laugh, waving Lilia off. “Careful, Sebek, you’re gonna scare your horse.”

But surprisingly, Sebek doesn’t snap back. Instead, he looks at you, something softer in his expression. “I admit… you’ve shown me something today. Perhaps you’re not just a reckless human after all.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Wow, Sebek. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re starting to like me.”

Sebek grumbles, looking away. “Do not mistake my words. I merely acknowledge your competence. Nothing more.”

“Sure, sure,” you reply, still grinning. “But hey, anytime you wanna ride again, I’m game.”

Sebek glances back at you, his usual harshness softened just a bit. “Perhaps… I will take you up on that.”

Lilia chuckles, clearly pleased with the budding camaraderie. “Ah, it warms my heart to see you two bonding. Who knows? Maybe you’ll become the best of friends.”

You wink at Lilia. “Well, if Sebek keeps up, maybe I’ll make him my official riding partner.”

Sebek, for once, doesn’t argue. Instead, he gives a small, determined nod. “We shall see, human. We shall see.”

As you ride back toward the stables, you can’t help but smile. You’ve earned a bit of respect from Sebek, and who knows? Maybe you’ll turn this into a full-fledged rivalry—one with a bit more fun and a lot less shouting.

Lilia, of course, flirts all the way back, making sure to keep the mood light and teasing, much to Sebek’s increasing exasperation. But even he can't deny that today was fun

The day should've been as normal as you could have these days—your stomach had other plans. There’s this nagging craving in the back of your mind for ramen, but of course, you’re stuck in a medieval isekai world where even the concept of instant noodles would make heads explode.

You groan, pacing back and forth in your room. "Ramen, ramen, ramen..." You’re practically chanting it like a spell. Finally, you snap your fingers. "Alright! Let’s get some ramen going!"

With all the determination of a contestant in a cooking show, you head to the market, a list of makeshift ingredients mentally prepared. You have no clue how you’re going to explain seaweed or soy sauce to the vendors, but hey, you’ve gotten this far in life on sheer audacity.

Except, ten minutes later, you find yourself hopelessly lost. You had been walking with confidence, chest out, head high, until you somehow managed to wander into a part of town that definitely wasn’t on your mental map. Instead of bustling vendors and cheerful shoppers, you’re now looking at a spooky, abandoned-looking area, complete with dense fog and suspiciously creaky trees.

“This... This isn’t the market,” you mutter, pausing in front of a seriously ominous cottage. If there were ever a sign that said "DO NOT ENTER" in flashing neon, this would be it. And yet, for reasons unknown even to yourself, you approach.

Before you can bolt in the opposite direction, the door swings open with the most dramatic creak you’ve ever heard. A woman, dressed in black robes, stands in the doorway with a gaze that could curdle milk. Her aura practically screams witch, and not the cool kind either—the villainous, melodramatic kind.

“Well, well, well,” she sneers, stepping out with all the grace of a Broadway villain, “look who wandered into my lair.”

“Uh, yeah...” You trail off, scratching the back of your head. “So… this isn’t the market?”

The witch gives you a look so condescending it could melt iron. “No,” she hisses, “it most certainly is not. You’ve trespassed on my domain, little fool!”

“Right, so sorry about that,” you say, trying to backpedal. “I’m just trying to make some ramen, and I—wait, hold on, who are you exactly?”

Her eyes flash with annoyance. “You don’t know who I am?”

You blink at her. “Is this the part where you tell me, like in those cartoons? ‘Cause I’m getting major ‘I’m about to monologue’ vibes right now.”

The witch’s face twitches, clearly not used to people interrupting her villain speech. “I,” she says, pausing for dramatic effect, “am the witch who cursed Malleus Draconia!”

Oh, that witch. You’ve heard some stories about her, mostly from half-paying attention when your friend geeked out over the original plot. But now that you’re face-to-face with her... this is not how you pictured it. You tilt your head.

“So, wait,” you begin, trying to suppress a snicker, “you’re the one who came up with that whole 15-year curse plan? And your big finale was… what? Swooping in at the last second to save him and then expecting him to marry you?”

Her eyes narrow. “That was the plan.”

You stare at her for a moment, the absurdity sinking in. “...That’s ridiculous.”

“How dare you mock me?!” she shrieks, her voice reaching a pitch that probably scared some birds out of nearby trees. She raises her hand, dark magic swirling between her fingers, and you swear you can hear thunder crack in the distance.

“Okay, hang on,” you say, taking a cautious step back. “Let’s not get all zappy here. I’m just saying that’s a lot of effort for a plan that has, like, a one percent success rate.”

“Silence!” She’s fuming now, throwing her hand forward to launch the magic at you—and you brace yourself for the worst. You’ve seen this in movies before. This is the part where you get turned into a frog or something equally terrible.

Except… nothing happens.

The magic fizzles out midair like a dud firecracker, leaving a puff of smoke and an awkward silence in its wake. You blink. She blinks. You both stare at the spot where the magic should have been.

“Uh…” you begin, rubbing the back of your neck. “Was that supposed to do something?”

The witch looks at her hand, then at you, then back at her hand again like she’s having a serious identity crisis. “What...?”

“I mean, points for the drama, but I’m still standing here,” you say, waving your hand in front of your face as if checking for damage. “And I don’t think I’m a toad.”

She tries again, gathering more magic in her hands and launching it at you with renewed fury. But once again, nothing. The magic stops short, fizzling out like it’s hitting an invisible barrier around you. Now she’s just staring at you, dumbfounded.

You, on the other hand, are absolutely flabbergasted. “Okay, this is getting weird.”

That’s when Lilia appears—literally, out of nowhere. He casually steps out from behind a tree like this is all a normal Monday for him. “Ah, I thought I sensed some familiar mischief afoot,” he says, his voice cheerful, though his eyes glint with something far more dangerous as they lock onto the witch.

The witch recoils, visibly shaken. “Lilia Vanrouge,” she hisses, sounding more like a disgruntled cat than a fearsome sorceress.

“In the flesh,” he says with a light bow, his grin all sharp teeth and mischief. “What brings you out of your little hidey-hole?”

She glares at him but doesn’t say anything. She’s outmatched, and she knows it. With one last seething look at you, she vanishes into thin air with a dramatic whoosh of smoke, leaving you and Lilia alone in the now eerily quiet forest.

You turn to him, utterly confused. “What the heck was that about? Why didn’t her magic work on me?”

Lilia’s grin softens, his gaze turning fond. “Ah, I see I’ve forgotten to tell you. I placed a fae’s blessing on you some time ago.”

“Wait, what?” You gape at him. “When did you do that?!”

He chuckles, as if you asking when he bestowed a magical shield on you is the most amusing thing he’s heard all week. “You tend to attract trouble, my dear. I thought it best to give you a little extra protection.”

You blink at him, still processing. “So… you’ve been secretly protecting me this whole time?”

His gaze turns a bit more serious, the usual playful air dropping away. “I don’t want to see anything happen to you,” he says softly, the words carrying a weight you hadn’t expected.

For a moment, you’re left speechless, flustered even. The teasing and jokes you’re so used to from Lilia are gone, replaced by something… deeper. It throws you off your game.

“Well, uh…” You clear your throat, desperately trying to recover. “I appreciate not getting turned into a frog or whatever she was planning.”

His grin returns, and the moment passes. “You’re welcome. Now, shall we head back to the market? I believe you were on a quest for... ramen, was it?”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head as the absurdity of it all catches up with you. “Yeah, let’s do that. And maybe next time I’ll avoid wandering into spooky villain lairs.”

“An excellent plan,” he says, offering you his arm. “Shall we?”

And just like that, you’re back on track—albeit a bit more shaken than before, but at least you’ve got a magical blessing you didn’t know about and one very charming fae escorting you through the mess.

You’re sitting under a large tree in the courtyard, soaking up the rare bit of peace and quiet that’s fallen over your life. It’s a nice day, the kind that makes you feel all warm and content, the sun shining gently through the leaves. Beside you, Silver is leaning against the trunk, dozing off as usual. You’ve become used to his tendency to fall asleep mid-conversation, and honestly, it’s kind of adorable.

He stirs a little, blinking his sleepy eyes open and looking at you with a soft smile. “It’s nice to have moments like this,” he says, voice a bit groggy. “Especially after everything.”

“Yeah,” you reply, leaning back on your hands. “It’s been... a lot.”

Silver glances at you, his gaze thoughtful. “You really helped us. My family,” he says, his tone a bit more serious than usual. “Freeing Lord Malleus from that curse... it was no small feat.”

Your stomach twists a little at the mention of Malleus. It still feels surreal that you had a hand in such a monumental event. You shrug, trying to play it cool. “Eh, you know... just another day of accidentally stumbling into chaos.”

He chuckles lightly, his smile softening even more. “I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to thank you properly for what you’ve done. You really saved us all.”

You wave your hand dismissively. “Stop, you’re going to make me blush. I was just trying to make some money, and suddenly I’m in the middle of an epic quest. You know how it is.”

Silver hums, half-amused, and then casually drops the bomb on you like it’s the most normal thing in the world: “You’d be perfect with Father.”

Your brain short-circuits. “...Sorry, what?”

Silver, utterly oblivious to the internal crisis he’s just unleashed within you, looks at you with that serene, peaceful expression of his. “Father. You’d be perfect with him.”

The world screeches to a halt. *Perfect? With Lilia?* You stare at him, wide-eyed, your mouth hanging open in a most undignified manner. “I’m sorry, did you just—did you just suggest that I—me—should be with your father?!”

Silver nods, looking completely at peace with his assessment, like he’s just commented on the weather. “Yes. You two get along well. You make each other laugh, and he seems fond of you. And Father... well, he deserves someone who can make him smile like that.”

Your mind is racing at 100 miles per hour. “Silver. SILVER.” You clutch your head as if physically holding your brain together will stop it from spiraling into madness. “Do you have any idea what you just said?”

Silver, ever the calm and composed knight, merely tilts his head. “Was it something strange?”

“STRANGE?!” You’re flailing now, completely losing your cool. “You just casually suggested I should date your father! Who, may I remind you, is an ancient fae with enough power to casually toss me into another dimension if he wanted!”

Silver blinks, seeming to consider this for a moment. “I don’t think he’d toss you into another dimension. He’d probably just... laugh and then take you out to dinner.”

You’re having a full-blown existential crisis. Your face is bright red, your heart is doing somersaults, and you’re not sure if you want to scream, faint, or throw yourself into the nearest fountain.

Silver, meanwhile, is just sitting there, serene and utterly oblivious to the emotional chaos he’s just unleashed upon you. “Father’s a good person,” He says softly. “I think you two would be happy together.”

“I... I...” You sputter, trying to form words but utterly failing as images of Lilia’s teasing smile and playful banter run through your mind. And then you imagine the alternative: Lilia’s serious side, the one that is somehow even more terrifyingly attractive, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

“Oh no,” you whisper, clutching your chest. “Oh no, no, no... Silver, what have you done?”

Silver looks at you with concern now, finally noticing that you’re having what can only be described as a breakdown. “Are you alright?"

“NO!” you cry, standing up and pacing back and forth in front of him. “You’ve broken me! You’ve ruined me! I’m—Silver, your father is... He’s... and I... Oh, gods, this is too much. TOO MUCH!”

Silver watches you pace for a moment before quietly saying, “You’re thinking about it, though.”

You freeze mid-step. “I—NO! Maybe? Yes? I—Why would you say that, Silver?!”

He just smiles, a soft, knowing smile. “Because it’s true.”

You slump back down beside him, groaning loudly as you cover your face with your hands. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Silver chuckles softly, resting his head back against the tree again. “I’ve heard that before.”

And as you sit there, your mind spinning with thoughts of Lilia and all the ridiculous, impossible implications Silver’s comment has brought to life, you can’t help but think that maybe—just *maybe*—he has a point.

But you’re not ready to admit that yet. Not even to yourself.

“I need a drink,” you mumble under your breath, and Silver hums in agreement.

“Father would probably help you make it,” he says, and you let out a loud groan, flopping onto the grass in dramatic defeat.

“Silver, you’re killing me.”

He just smiles that peaceful smile of his.

It’s a quiet afternoon, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the courtyard. You’re standing with Malleus and Sebek in one of the palace’s gardens, the tranquil hum of life around you contrasting with the more serious conversation that’s about to unfold. You can feel the weight of what Malleus is about to say, and your mind spins as you prepare yourself for another emotionally charged moment.

Malleus takes a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. “For the longest time,” he begins, his voice soft and filled with an unspoken vulnerability, “I thought I would be stuck. Trapped in that cursed state forever. I had resigned myself to it, believing that it was my fate to be alone.”

You shift slightly, unsure how to respond to such raw honesty. Sebek, standing next to Malleus, is silent for once, his usual loud and defensive nature tempered by the gravity of his lord’s words.

“But then you came along,” Malleus continues, turning his glowing eyes toward you. “You broke the curse, something no one had been able to do. You gave me back my freedom, something I had lost hope of ever regaining.”

Sebek clears his throat loudly, his usual dramatic flair coming to the surface despite the tenderness of the moment. “Yes, well,” he says, voice gruff but tinged with the awkwardness of someone who isn’t quite used to expressing gratitude. “I... suppose we should be... grateful. After all, if it weren’t for you, Lord Malleus would still be... cursed, and we wouldn’t be here together as we are now.”

You blink at Sebek’s begrudging admission, feeling a small smile tug at your lips. The fact that he of all people is thanking you, even in such a roundabout way, is oddly touching.

“Wow, Sebek,” you say, voice teasing but soft. “Who knew you had it in you?”

Sebek bristles at your words, his expression a mix of indignation and embarrassment. “D-Don’t misunderstand!” he exclaims, face turning a shade redder than usual. “I’m merely stating the facts! Nothing more!”

Malleus chuckles softly at Sebek’s outburst, his usual gentle smile returning to his face. “Sebek’s gratitude, no matter how begrudging, is indeed a rarity,” he teases lightly before turning his attention back to you. “But truly, I am grateful. You’ve given me back more than just my freedom. You’ve given me back... this.”

He gestures around him, indicating the garden, the palace, the sky above. “This life, this chance to be with those I care about. And for that, I owe you a debt that I may never be able to repay.”

You shift awkwardly, feeling a strange warmth bloom in your chest. “I mean, I didn’t really set out to save anyone,” you admit, your voice light but with an edge of honesty. “I just... wanted the reward. And then maybe to go home.”

Sebek’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and he opens his mouth to argue, but Malleus holds up a hand, stopping him before he can launch into one of his dramatic tirades

You hesitate, glancing between Malleus and Sebek. “I didn’t think I’d get attached,” you admit quietly, your voice softening. “But I have. Somehow, I’ve found myself... caring about all of you. This weird little makeshift family.”

Sebek looks as though he’s about to protest the “weird” part, but a stern glance from Malleus keeps him quiet. You can see the begrudging acknowledgment in his eyes, though—he knows it’s true, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

Malleus hums thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he speaks again. “Well,” he says casually, as if discussing something as simple as the weather, “if you’re so attached, perhaps we should make it official. Perhaps you should marry into the family."

You freeze. Did he just—?

You whip your head towards Malleus, completely flustered. “M-Marry?! What?!”

Sebek, on the other hand, looks as if someone just punched him in the face. His mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air, his eyes wide with outrage. “L-Lord Malleus, what are you suggesting?!” he sputters.

Malleus blinks, as calm as ever. “I’m suggesting marriage,” he repeats, as if it’s the most logical thing in the world. “If they are so attached to us, it seems a reasonable next step. Perhaps they should marry Lilia?”

Your face turns a bright shade of red as your heart pounds in your chest. “Wh-What?!” you stammer. “Lilia?!”

Sebek turns even redder, his face contorting in disbelief. “Master Lilia?!”

Malleus nods sagely, completely unfazed by both of your reactions. “Yes, Lilia. He has shown great affection for them, and they would fit well within our family. Would you not agree, Sebek?”

Sebek looks like he’s about to explode, but there’s an uncomfortable silence as he realizes… he can’t argue. He knows Malleus and Lilia both care about you. He knows that you’ve proven yourself to be a good person, despite his initial distrust. His mouth twitches, the words clearly struggling to escape his throat.

“I—well—Lord Malleus,” Sebek starts, looking every bit as if he’s been defeated by sheer logic. “I… I must admit… They are a suitable companion for Master Lilia… even if the idea of them marrying… well, it is quite… outrageous.”

You feel your soul leave your body as the conversation continues. Sebek can’t quite bring himself to fully agree, yet he doesn’t outright refuse the idea either. His loyalty to his lords binds him, and his begrudging acceptance of your presence has left him caught between duty and outrage.

“I—This—” you stammer, completely overwhelmed. “I—This is insane!”

Malleus looks at you with a calm smile. “Think it over,” he says, voice gentle. “You’ve already become part of our lives. Why not make it official?”

You open your mouth to protest, but the words die in your throat as you see the sincerity in his eyes. This isn’t just a flippant suggestion—it’s Malleus genuinely offering you a place in his family. But the idea of marrying Lilia? That’s… that’s a whole new level of madness.

“I—I think I need to lie down,” you mutter, pressing your hands to your temples. “This is too much.”

Malleus chuckles softly, and even Sebek seems to relax—if only a little. But as you glance between the two of them, you can’t help but feel a strange warmth in your chest. Even with all the absurdity, you know one thing for sure: you’ve found a place with them, whether you intended to or not.

The cat was just sitting there. Innocently perched on the branch, fluffy and regal like a tiny, judgmental king. You don’t even know what possessed you, really. Maybe it was those huge, adorable eyes or the way its tail flicked back and forth. But somehow, someway, you ended up halfway up a tree. Climbing a tree. For a cat.

“I just wanted to pet you,” you mutter, feeling slightly ridiculous as you hug the branch for dear life. “And now I’m stuck. Great.”

The cat stares at you, completely indifferent to your plight. You sigh, glancing down at the ground, which now seems alarmingly far away. Heights were never your thing, but in the moment, with that cute little furball teasing you, logic flew right out the window. Now, you’re clinging to the tree like a cowardly kitten yourself.

“Why did I think this was a good idea?” you groan. The cat blinks at you. “Don’t look at me like that. This is all your fault!”

And then, because fate has a terrible sense of humor, you hear a voice from below. A familiar, unmistakable voice—playful, with a hint of amusement laced through it.

“Well, well, what do we have here? It appears my dear little beastie has gotten themselves stuck.”

You nearly slip off the branch as you glance down to see Lilia standing at the base of the tree, arms crossed and an infuriatingly amused grin on his face. He looks every bit the mischievous fae, eyes twinkling with barely suppressed laughter.

“I—uh—this is—” You stammer, trying to come up with some kind of excuse, but nothing comes. You’re halfway up a tree. Because of a cat. No explanation is going to save your dignity now.

Lilia tilts his head, chuckling. “Were you planning on living up there from now on? Or should I assist you in returning to the ground?”

“Hey, don’t judge me!” you huff, cheeks burning. “The cat—look at the cat! It was really cute, okay?”

Lilia glances up at the feline, which is now licking its paw in complete disinterest. He raises an eyebrow. “Ah, yes, the cat. I see now. How could anyone resist such a noble creature?”

You groan, feeling your face get even hotter. “I—um—I might need help getting down.”

Lilia’s grin widens. “Of course, my dear. I was planning on catching you anyway.”

You freeze. “C-Catching me?”

“Mmhm. Just jump down, and I’ll catch you,” Lilia says, his tone so casual, as if catching people out of trees is just something he does every day. He spreads his arms out, waiting expectantly.

Your heart races as you eye the distance between the branch and the ground again. It’s not terribly high, but… still high enough to make you nervous. But Lilia’s standing there with that easy confidence, and the thought of staying stuck in this tree forever doesn’t exactly appeal to you either.

Taking a deep breath, you inch closer to the edge of the branch. “O-Okay. I’m going to jump.”

“Go ahead,” Lilia says, his voice soft. “I’ll catch you.”

With one last look at the disinterested cat, you finally push yourself off the branch. For a split second, there’s nothing but the rush of air—and then you feel yourself land securely in Lilia’s arms. You’re caught. Easily, gently. Like it was nothing at all.

He looks down at you, his face much closer than you anticipated. “See? I told you I would catch you.”

You’re breathless for a moment, your heart doing flips as you realize just how close you are to him. His arms are around you, holding you steady, and you can feel the warmth of his body through his clothes. He’s staring at you with that soft, amused smile, and you’re suddenly acutely aware of just how handsome he is.

“Oh no,” you whisper to yourself, “I’m swooning.”

Lilia raises an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

“Y-You’re really smooth,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. “Like, catching me so easily and looking at me like that. It’s—it’s really unfair.”

He chuckles softly, clearly entertained by your flustered state. “Unfair, you say?”

“Yeah, like—like, you’re so effortlessly cool and charming, and I—” You freeze, suddenly realizing what you’re saying. You clamp your mouth shut, but it’s too late. The words are out, and your brain has completely short-circuited.

And then, before you even know what’s happening, the words just spill out of you in a panicked rush. “Okay, I like you! No, wait—I think I’m in love with you! I mean, how could I not be? You’re so amazing, and I just—Oh god, I’m confessing! I’m confessing right now, aren’t I? This is a confession. Oh no, this is terrible. I didn’t mean to—”

You feel your entire body heat up as you bury your face in your hands, completely mortified. Of all the ways you could’ve confessed your feelings to Lilia, this had to be the worst possible way. You weren’t ready! You were supposed to be calm and collected, not blurting it out after getting caught in a tree!

For a moment, there’s silence. And then, you hear the softest chuckle from Lilia. His arms tighten around you slightly, pulling you just a little closer.

“You’re adorable,” he says, his voice soft and full of warmth.

You peek through your fingers, confused. “Huh?”

“I’ve known for a while that your feelings for me were more than friendly,” Lilia continues, his smile gentle. “But hearing you confess like this… it’s endearing.”

You blink, trying to process his words. “Wait—you’ve known?”

Lilia nods. “You’re not as subtle as you think, my dear.”

You groan again, hiding your face in your hands once more. “This is so embarrassing…”

Lilia laughs softly, and before you know it, he leans in and presses a light, gentle kiss to your forehead. Your heart skips a beat, and you lower your hands, looking up at him in surprise.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” Lilia says, his eyes soft. “I’m honored to be the one you’ve chosen.”

Your heart flutters as his words sink in, and you realize that, despite your mortification, he’s… accepting your feelings. He’s not teasing you or brushing it off—he’s genuinely acknowledging your confession. And more than that… he’s reciprocating.

“Lilia…” you whisper, your face still burning with embarrassment, but also with a warmth that you can’t quite describe.

He leans in a little closer, his nose brushing against yours. “You don’t need to say anything more, my dear. Just know that I feel the same.”

And with that, Lilia closes the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a soft, sweet kiss that makes your heart race even faster. All thoughts of your earlier panic melt away, replaced by the warmth of his touch and the feeling of being completely safe in his arms.

As he pulls back, you’re left staring at him, wide-eyed and breathless. Lilia smiles down at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement and affection.

“So,” he says, his voice teasing, “was that worth climbing a tree for?”

You blink, still dazed from the kiss. “I… I think so.”

Lilia laughs softly, pressing another quick kiss to your lips before setting you down on the ground. “Next time, though, perhaps we’ll find a more dignified setting for your confessions, hmm?”

You groan, covering your face again as you mutter, “Please don’t remind me…”

But despite your embarrassment, you can’t help the small, giddy smile that creeps onto your face as you realize that, somehow, things turned out perfectly anyway.

You sit with Lilia on a bench beneath the shade of a massive oak tree, the same one he caught you from, nerves simmering beneath your calm exterior. He’s as composed as ever, leaning back against the tree with a small, amused smile playing on his lips.

Across from you sit Malleus, Silver, and Sebek, all three watching you with varying degrees of curiosity—Malleus with calm interest, Silver with that sleepy, gentle acceptance, and Sebek with what you’re sure is the beginning of a tirade bubbling just beneath the surface.

“We have some news,” Lilia says, breaking the silence with his usual playful tone. His hand slips into yours, squeezing lightly. “About us.”

Malleus’s eyes light up with interest, his draconic gaze honing in on the subtle intertwining of your hands with Lilia’s. “News?” he repeats, leaning forward slightly. “What sort of news?”

You exchange a glance with Lilia, and he gives you a nod, as if to say go on, it’s safe. Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself and blurt out, “We’re together. Like, romantically.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then Malleus’s eyes widen, his entire face brightening with delight. “Truly?” he asks, a rare, genuine smile spreading across his face. “That is wonderful news! You will be joining the family then?”

You blink, momentarily thrown off by how happy he is. “Uh, well—eventually, I guess. We haven’t exactly planned a wedding yet…”

“But when we do,” Lilia interjects smoothly, eyes glinting with amusement, “you will be the first to receive an invitation, Malleus.”

Malleus beams, the delight practically radiating off him like sunlight. “I would expect no less. To witness your union—ah, it will be a grand day.”

Meanwhile, Silver gives you both a small, approving nod. His expression is calm, though there’s a softness in his eyes that shows he’s happy for you. “I’m glad,” he says, his voice as gentle as ever. “Father deserves someone who makes him happy. And you… you seem to do that.”

Your heart warms at the approval from Silver. “Thanks, Silver,” you say, offering him a smile in return.

And then there’s Sebek.

For a moment, he just stares at you and Lilia, his mouth working as if he’s trying to form words. You brace yourself for the inevitable protest, expecting him to shout something about how inappropriate it is, or how you could never be good enough for Lilia, or—

“You…” Sebek finally speaks, though his tone is less outraged than you anticipated. He scowls, but there’s an undeniable hint of reluctant acceptance in his eyes. “You’re together, then?”

Lilia nods, his smile never wavering. “Indeed, Sebek.”

Sebek inhales deeply, closing his eyes as if preparing for some kind of inner battle. You can almost hear him wrestling with his instincts, wanting to object but also unable to deny the truth of the situation. After a long pause, he finally exhales and mutters, “Well… I suppose… if it makes Master Lilia happy, then…”

You’re about to breathe a sigh of relief when Sebek opens his eyes again, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “But that does not mean you should grow complacent! Just because Master Lilia has chosen you does not mean you are exempt from proving yourself worthy!”

Lilia laughs softly at Sebek’s stubbornness, and you can’t help but grin. “Of course, Sebek,” you say, teasing him lightly. “I’ll do my best to live up to your high standards.”

Sebek huffs, crossing his arms. “See that you do.”

Despite his bluster, you can tell he’s not truly upset. There’s a begrudging acceptance in his stance, the same way someone might finally accept that their favorite hero isn’t perfect, but still worthy of respect. Sebek might not be able to fully wrap his head around the idea of you and Lilia being together, but deep down, you can tell he doesn’t disapprove. Not really.

Malleus, meanwhile, is still beaming. “I look forward to your wedding,” he says, sounding genuinely excited. “It will be a grand celebration. And I will be the first to celebrate your union.”

You laugh, finally feeling the tension melt away. “You’ll be the first to get an invitation, don’t worry.”

Lilia squeezes your hand again, his eyes warm as he looks at you. “Indeed,” he says softly, “and I think it will be a lovely celebration.”

As you sit there, surrounded by Lilia’s peculiar little family, you can’t help but feel a swell of emotion. For all their eccentricities—Malleus’s dragon-like mannerisms, Silver’s sleepy but sincere approval, and Sebek’s stubborn loyalty—you’ve somehow found yourself among people who care. Who, in their own ways, are happy to see you and Lilia together.

And as you glance at Lilia, who’s still watching you with that fond, amused expression, you realize something important: this makeshift family of fae and knights… they’ve accepted you.

Flaws and all.

The living room felt a little too tense for your taste today. You were sprawled out on a chair, arms crossed, listening to the absurd conversation that seemed to have spiraled out of control.

Malleus, sitting at the head of the table, had the "serious prince" expression that made you roll your eyes every time you saw it. Lilia was perched on the back of his chair, his legs dangling, thoroughly amused by the current predicament. Sebek stood in his usual soldier-like stance, ready to protect everyone from... squirrels, apparently. And Silver was doing his best to stay upright while leaning on a wall. He was losing that battle.

“It’s time to discuss the prophecy” Malleus said, his voice carrying an ominous weight you found ridiculous. “The Squirrel Plague will bring misfortune. Entire kingdoms will fall to their tiny paws.”

You blinked. “We’re seriously talking about squirrels?”

Lilia nodded with an overly grave face. “Indeed, my dear. Squirrels are resourceful creatures. Vicious even, if the stories are true.”

Sebek puffed up his chest, eyes blazing with his trademark fervor. “MY LORD, IF THOSE RODENTS BELIEVE THEY CAN THREATEN YOU—"

You leaned forward, waving your hand dismissively. “Alright, alright, let's not hype up the squirrels too much, okay? This whole situation is ridiculous.”

Silver, who had just about managed to pry his eyes open, muttered, “It’s not just the squirrels. I heard some people talking about... uh, the Saint being accused of spying or something.”

The room fell into silence for a second, everyone digesting that little bombshell.

Lilia’s grin widened as if the idea of spies delighted him. “Spies, you say? This is getting quite intriguing.”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Yeah, no thanks. Squirrels are bad enough, but spies? I’m not dealing with this.”

Malleus turned towards you, a slight frown on his lips. “I assumed you wished to stay here. You haven’t mentioned wanting to leave before.”

You sighed, shrugging. “I mean, I don't have any attachments to this place. I stayed because you guys were here. But right now, let's bounce. Immediately. The squirrels can have this place.”

Silver, rubbing his eyes, nodded. “They're right. It’s a lot of hassle, and honestly, the squirrels are starting to weird me out. I saw one trying to chew through the wall this morning.”

Sebek turned to Silver with his mouth agape. “A SQUIRREL DARED TO ATTACK OUR DOMAIN?!”

Lilia chuckled, nodding. “They’re getting bolder, indeed. I even had one throw an acorn at me this morning. It was a declaration of war, I tell you.”

You waved your hands at them. “Guys, seriously. I don’t care if we’re at war with the squirrels. I just don’t want to be here. Briar Valley sounds much nicer, doesn’t it? No plagues, no spy accusations, no rabid rodents.”

Malleus blinked at you, then slowly smiled. “If you wish to leave, then there’s no reason for us to stay. I thought perhaps you'd not want to leave the place you grew up in, that you would be attached.”

“Attached?” You gestured dramatically at the window, where you swore you could see a squirrel watching with beady little eyes. “Nope. I’m only attached to you four, and I’m not risking my life for some acorn-flinging rodents.”

Silver yawned, already giving in. “I say we go. Less hassle, more sleep.”

Lilia gave a theatrical sigh leaning on Malleus. “Well, I suppose the adventure ends here. Back to Briar Valley it is! And I’ll be sure to bring along some acorns... perhaps we can keep the spirit of battle alive.”

Sebek, his voice still full of misplaced enthusiasm, nodded fiercely. “IF MY LORD DECIDES TO RETURN, THEN I SHALL ENSURE OUR JOURNEY IS WITHOUT PERIL! THE SQUIRRELS SHALL NOT—”

You interrupted with a grin. “Yes, yes, Sebek. You’ll protect us from the squirrels. Good job.”

Lilia hopped off Malleus’s chair, already halfway to the door. “I’ll go prepare the portal. Who knows, maybe we can get there in time for the fireflies.”

You got up too, stretching and giving one last look at the living room. “I think I’ve had enough of prophecies, plagues, and espionage.”

Lilia grins "Maybe we could have our wedding in Briar Valley". Malleus, now entirely on board, nodded with regal finality. “Then we shall return to Briar Valley. I trust the squirrels will not miss us.”

Lilia snickered, and you felt him squeeze your shoulder. “Perhaps we should bring a souvenir,” he mused. “A squirrel, perhaps, as a reminder of this peculiar little chapter of our lives.”

You shook your head, laughing. “I think I’d rather forget it altogether.”

With that, you and your four favorite Briar Valley residents left—leaving behind the squirrels, the spies, and every bit of drama that had nothing to do with you. Peace, it turned out, was just a portal away.

With that, the group made their decision—no heroic stand against the prophecy, no attempts to sort out spy dramas. Just a swift, sensible retreat to where things were far less complicated. And honestly? That suited you just fine.

Alright! I liked writing this a lot, It's not as chaotic as my other isekai ones but I like how it turned out!

Also if the formatting is off, I'm so sorry but I fell spectacularly on my ass while ice-skating and can't sit long enough to edit on my laptop.

Also quick poll for the next trash novel one, I'll definitely finish all of them, this is just for which one should I post first. They're all almost done.

Series Masterlist ; My Masterlists

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #lilia vanrouge #lilia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia twst #lilia x you #isekai #fem reader

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azrielbrainrot · 2 months ago

Text

Haunted

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Kinktober 2024: Prey/Predator

Description: You and Azriel play a not so innocent game of hide-and-seek.

Warnings: Smut, vaginal sex, rough sex, sex in the dungeons, bit of fingering, dirty talk, bit of cum play, slight (almost non existant) dom/sub dynamics, tiny bit of degradation and a praise kink

Word Count: ~2,1k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

The silence was deafening in between the stone walls, making you far too aware of the sound of your own breathing and how hard your heart was beating. You wouldn't be surprised if he could hear it through your chest even if he was on the opposite side of the dungeons, it was certainly loud enough in your ears.

Moving was difficult as well since you were terrified of alerting him with every step you took, making you move even slower than probably necessary. Not to mention the darkness that set in the dungeon, the moonlight filtering through the small windows not nearly enough to allow you to see even the end of the hallway.

Azriel's dungeon wasn't entirely unknown to you, having been here on multiple occasions for work or even to come find him when he got too immersed in his duties, but you definitely should have prepared better before asking him to hunt you here. It should have been the least you could do after daring the Spymaster of the Night Court to a game of hide-and-seek.

“I have to say I'm impressed, princess,” his deep voice calls out, making you freeze, heart dropping onto your stomach. It takes you entirely too long to realize his voice sounds far away enough, echoing through the walls. “Seasoned assassins haven't managed to hold out this long.”

When the shock dies down a bit and you regain control of your body once again, you keep walking down the hallway slowly, carefully setting one foot in front of the other. As far as he sounded just now, you knew he could walk through these walls effortlessly without making noise and if you stood in the same place, he would catch you before you'd even get the chance to run.

The sound of his knuckles knocking against the wall as he walks makes you jump out of your skin again, and you almost want to curse out at him, knowing he's having entirely too much fun while you sit close to a heart attack.

“Maybe I should have you work for me. You could still be a great spy.”

The relaxed tone of his voice only worsens your nerves. It also annoys you, which you know is his objective, but you won't give him the satisfaction of making a wrong move just so he could find you more easily. You had brought up this game with a clear view of the end, but now your competitiveness wouldn't allow you to simply give up. The reward would be far more delicious if you gave him a good fight too.

Making your way to one of the open cells at the end of the hallway and getting inside, you look for a place to hide. Every cell had been emptied and cleaned before you came, you really wouldn't have expected anything less from Azriel, even during this dirty game of yours he wanted to keep you protected and sheltered.

The room was mostly empty save for a table by the iron bars, a chair and chains on the furthest wall and a box sitting by the side wall. It was full of cleaning supplies by the smell of it which would be perfect since it could mask your scent as well. You quickly duck behind it, sitting on the floor and making yourself as small as you can so you're not visible at all behind it.

A shadow moving in the corner catches your attention, startling you for a second, but with a harsh glare at it you manage to send it away. Azriel had promised not to use them - if he did the game would be over in seconds. His shadows had a tendency to cling to you though, since they were extensions of him and acted on his feelings, so even if they didn't run to tattle on you, seeing them gathering around the box would be like an arrow pointing in your direction.

“How long do you plan on hiding for, my love?” His voice was a lot closer now, it sounded like he was walking down this same hallway. Covering your mouth with your hand, you do your best to calm your heart and not make any noise at all, trying to remember the breathing exercises he taught you. “We both know how this will end.”

Counting down the steps in your mind, you peek out slowly when you're convinced enough time has passed for him to be around the opposite corner of the dungeon. You find the hallway empty and take the moment to start walking in the direction he came from, maybe find another place to hide back there if you're lucky.

“Caught you,” a voice whispers directly in your ear, making you jump and attempt to move away only to be held by your waist against a familiar leather clad chest. Your heart was racing, the sound so loud in your ears that it takes you a moment to remind your body that you weren't actually in danger.

Azriel simply leans into your neck, breathing in your scent, humming into your skin when your body starts relaxing against his. His shadows start crawling up your body as well, happily moving around the two of you after being denied your touch for so long.

“You said you wouldn't use them,” you whisper, scared your voice would give out on you. Fear had fully transformed into desire, the whiplash of emotions and adrenaline running through your veins threatening to make you lose your mind.

“I didn't,” he murmurs, biting into your skin, “I'm a little offended that you think so little of my abilities.” You didn't, not at all, but your next words turn into a moan as he licks at the bite mark. “Now, be good and let me enjoy my prize.”

When his hands reach to the hem of the short dress you wore for the occasion and pulls it off in one swift movement, you thought he would turn you around and finally kiss you, maybe lift you up into his arms and fuck you against the wall, but instead he guides you back to the cell you had been hiding in, letting you know that he had simply been indulging you for a bit longer when he walked away, and bends you over the table you had been eyeing earlier, the cold surface coming in contact with your overheated skin sending goosebumps all over your body.

You can't see him in this position, can't see the appreciation in his eyes as the hazel rakes over your body, or the sick desire when he spreads your legs and finds your underwear soaked through. His thumb delves under your underwear without warning, running it over your folds before tugging at the fabric once, giving you time to stop him if you wanted to, and then tugging harder a second time when you didn't, ripping it clean off your body.

Two of his fingers are inside you before you have a chance to prepare yourself, finding no resistance whatsoever as your cunt greedily sucks them in. Azriel chuckles, a dark sound that makes your toes curl.

“Don't tell me you got this wet running from me,” he muses, fucking his fingers into you faster, “Were you thinking of what I would do when I caught you? Did you imagine me fucking you over this table like this?” The obscenely loud moan you let out is the only answer he needs. “Such a dirty girl, so perfect for me.”

His fingers leave you entirely too soon, prompting a whine of protest out of you, one that gets silenced quickly when he gently kicks your feet apart as you hear him unbuckling the leathers you had specifically asked him to wear. You don't even have time to beg before he enters you in one smooth motion, setting up a punishing pace that has you holding onto the cell bars in front of you.

His hands were gripping onto your hips hard enough to bruise, bringing your body to meet his thrusts. Your moans were echoing around the empty dungeon, leaving your mouth unattended as you got lost in the pleasure, and if it weren't for the spell cast around it to make it soundproof, you would be waking up everyone around.

The feeling of his leathers hitting your naked skin was turning you on more than it should, but seeing him in his Spymaster attire while chasing you around his dungeon could have probably made you cum without him ever laying a finger on you. The thought makes you clench around him, getting rewarded with a deep moan of his own.

Between the adrenaline of the chase and the way he was fucking you so well, you were already impossibly close, trying your best to hold back and enjoy the moment as long as you could, your cunt squeezing around him wildly - you had fantasized about this too many times for it to end so soon. It seemed he had a different idea though, his thrusts hitting all the spots he knew would make you lose control.

“Why are you holding back, my love?” His voice was clearly affected, it sounded like he was holding back himself. “Want to feel you cum on my cock. Come on, show me how good I'm making you feel.”

There really wasn't a chance of denying him even if you wanted to, he was hitting you too deep, too hard, so so good. You were cumming around his cock just like he wanted as soon as the words left his mouth, a silent scream stuck in your throat, entire form trembling against the table as your body struggled to handle the sudden amount of pleasure.

Azriel fucks you through it, his thrusts becoming more erratic and his groans echoing louder around the walls, a telltale sign of how close he truly was. But he surprises you once more, pulling out of you before you even have the chance to really come down from your high, and spins you around, dropping you on your knees. Luckily even through the haze, your body knew what to do, parting your lips and sucking his cock into your mouth just in time for him to cum down your throat, fingers tangled in your hair and head thrown back as he fucks every last drop into your mouth.

It takes him a while to pull out, and judging by the way his cock refused to truly soften, you almost thought he would keep fucking your face, but he does so gently, tucking himself back into his leathers before squating down to your level when you pout up at him, smirking at the mess he made before kissing you, licking any remnants of cum and spit that trailed down your chin.

“Think you can still stand?”

The question makes you take note of the way your muscles still spasmed, but you still nod up at him, albeit a bit confused. He could just winnow you straight to your room, no need to walk all the way back or anything.

“Alright then,” he says with a hint of pride, holding onto your waist and helping you stand, studying the way your legs wobble for a second before letting go and deeming you steady enough on your feet. It's not like he hadn't fucked you way harder before, you were almost a little offended he thought you would be out of commission so easily.

Azriel leans down to kiss you one more time, letting you indulge yourself, hand finding the back of his neck, only to pull away and take a step back, a sadistic smirk playing on his face, sending a chill down your spine.

“Now I want you to run for me again, princess.” His smirk only widens when he sees the excitement replacing the confusion on your face. “Next time I catch you, I'll chain you to the wall.”

A million thoughts run through your mind, one more filthy than the former. He nods his head to the door in encouragement. “Go on, I'll give you a headstart.”

It was going to be a long night.

#azriel x reader #azriel smut #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel fic #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar smut #acotar kinktober

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amywritesthings · 4 months ago

Text

press four for more options. | part four.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4.6k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - alternate universe (modern), sex work, pet names, alcohol, mentions of drugs, jokes about death Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part three. / return to part one. | masterlist

Night comes around.

You do not call.

In fact, you don't call the Scout Services Hotline a single time that whole weekend.

As you scroll mindlessly through social media in your bed, fluttering between apps without retaining a single word or meme, your cell phone weighs heavily in your hand.

Don't call.

Just don't call.

It isn't like you're devoid of things to do.

Going out is an option.

Being around people may help your mood — but you don’t feel like unearthing from your snuggie poncho.

Putting on a movie can be a great distraction — but you know your attention span would barely last through the opening credits.

It was him.

Right there.

Right in front of you.

Levi from Scout Services, alive and in the flesh, holding your phone.

No amount of mental gymnastics can make you doubt otherwise.

He has a voice like no other; one that haunts your day dreams and soothes your nightmares, one that brings this sudden urge to do better for yourself—

Ironically, to be independent and strong on your own.

Which, actually, really fucking sucks now that you’re stuck with the decision to totally disappear from the gym, too.

(Kind of thwarts the whole ‘new me’ chest-puffing you’d started Friday with.)

So you make a final decision:

You still have to go to the gym Saturday, Sunday, and Monday.

Even if you say nothing, keep to yourself, remain a shadow, you have to go.

(There’s a fragile line drawn in the sands of reality. You can toe the edge, but you refuse to. This is his livelihood. You’re not delusional to believe you’re a main character exception.)

Coincidentally, Levi goes every day, too.

Your stomach flip-flops with the unsettling realization that your perch on a treadmill actually gives you a perfect vantage point to watch him as he sets his station up every morning.

Meticulously he sets towels down to place his shaker bottle and water thermos down, as if worried the ground hadn’t been cleaned overnight.

He even takes the disinfectant cloths and cleans every dumbbell he lines up neatly before starting his workout.

The dark-haired man truly is less-than-average in height, which isn’t a turn-off to you in the slightest, but his arms — his goddamn arms.

Levi wasn’t kidding when he told you that he could pick you up.

He could probably pick two of you up, one arm each.

They’re so toned, his forearms veiny from morning dehydration.

Training vigorously in his own world, not once does he notice that you’re the bumbling idiot that’s tripped on the treadmill (see: a few times) from dissociating.

Hell, he hasn’t a single fucking clue that you’re close enough to yell across the room to him.

Would he know?

That you’re Scarlet.

His, in some made-up world.

(Does your voice stand out in a sea of lonely people?)

The cleaning ritual extends to his cooldown, where he properly cleans each piece of equipment before nestling it back in its place.

Levi sits on his phone for a second, dropping down to a bench to scroll — text messages.

(Damn it, have you really resorted to minor stalking?)

As soon as he stands, though, you drop your chin to watch your sneakers rhythmically pass one another on the treadmill belt.

He passes like a ghost, evaporating into the men’s locker room without a word.

This is torture.

You miss him.

But you still refuse to call.

Can't — because in another world you may be his, but in this world, he is not yours.

— —

Tuesday night rolls around and you decide you hate life.

Annie, Eren, Reiner, and Mikasa are already there by the time you walk into the downtown hotspot.

The boys as well as Mikasa are still in their suit attire from work, their ties loosened at their necks. Annie’s in a hoodie and jeans, clearly much more interested in having a comfortable evening.

If the emptied shot glasses are any indicator of the plans for this evening, then you steel yourself for one hell of a Wednesday.

You glide through the busy crowds of the bar towards the group.

Bodies upon bodies crowd this place — it’s never not a zoo at this hour, no matter the day. Saying excuse me would only waste breath.

A live band croons on the far end of the smoky bar, forcing everyone to talk ten decibels higher just to hear the conversation.

(Can’t you turn around and go home while you’re ahead?)

In the sea of people, a pair of emerald green eyes over by a cluster of tables in the right-hand corner catch your movement. They widen, recognizing your face, and a lopsided grin of surprise follows.

“Holy shit, she left her cave!” Eren yells, holding up a cheap beer in salute to your arrival.

(Thanks Jeager, you little fuck.)

You don’t hear what she says, but you can see Mikasa’s lips part in tandem with a sharp elbow jab straight to his ribs.

Eren instantly falters his salute, souring in pain.

“I know. Don’t be so shocked,” you state to your colleagues, leaning up against the circular high-top table. “Am I the last to show?”

“Nah, you’re right on time. Armin and Jean’re on their way,” Reiner grunts, holding onto a comically small cosmopolitan in his rather large hand. “Sasha’s on babysitting duty with Nicco.”

You look around the bar for any other familiar faces.

“And Connie?”

“Passed out,” Mikasa supplies. “Took edibles after work.”

“There’s no chance in hell anyone’s waking him,” Eren snorts. “Fucker’s toast.”

Reiner sighs. “For what it’s worth, Jean tried.”

“No, Armin tried,” Annie corrects, finally piping up. She holds something on the rocks — brandy? Whiskey? You can’t tell. “Jean just laughed and kept trying to draw shit on his face.”

“You didn’t see the Snapchat he sent?” Eren asks after a gulp of his beer.

You shake your head, knowing damn well you’ve avoided using your phone for the last several days.

Missed texts, abandoned tagged tweets, your streak in your mobile game ruined — anything so you wouldn’t be tempted to click that little number.

Damn it.

Enough wallowing.

“I’m gonna go grab a drink,” you state, disengaging with the table. “Anyone need anything?”

From your peripheral, you see a familiar mop of blonde hair walking towards your group. At his side is a much taller man sliding through the crowd, navigating the shorter one to the tiny table you’ve commandeered from the masses.

Armin and Jean.

Reiner and Annie shake their heads.

“Nope, I’m solid.”

“Good here.”

“Eren’s got the next round of shots,” Mikasa flatly states. “You’re fine.”

“Ha, hell yeah!” Eren exclaims, before he settles into a confused pause of silence. His head whips to Mikasa, blinking twice. “Wait, what?”

You don’t stick around for that aftermath.

Squeezing back into the lion’s den of people, you try not to get hit with any too-full beverages or waving hands.

You manage to weave and duck, eventually finding a small empty corner at the edge of the bar.

Success.

You rush to claim it before someone else can, your forearm on the wooden surface.

Holding up two fingers to get the one of the three bartender’s attention, she nods once to acknowledge she sees you — she’ll get there eventually.

Two empty stools are available, so you scoot onto the one closest to the wall while waiting for your turn and drop your purse onto the other while you situate yourself.

It’ll likely take a while if the busyness of the staff has anything to say about it.

An hour.

All you need to do is last one whole hour.

Chat a bit, mingle a little so everyone at work doesn’t think you’re a total goddamn recluse, then you can go—

“Is this seat taken?”

A question sounding to your left breaks your train of thought.

The seat.

The one next to you, where your purse lay.

Way to go, dumbass.

You answer on autopilot, not thinking twice about it.

“Oh — shit, yeah. I mean, no! No it’s not. I’m sorry.”

As your torso turns to grab your purse off of the deep red stool, your eyes drop to make sure nothing spills out of it.

“Hold on, let me just move—”

Your chin lifts to find yourself staring eye to eye with Levi.

Wait.

Levi?!

His cheekbones look even sharper under the warm hue of the bar lights overhead, lips parted like he was interrupted in asking a question.

The whites of his eyes grow more prominent with every passing second, making the blue-gray color of them stand out in stark contrast to the black curtain of fringe falling against his temples.

The realization that you spoke — that he’s seen your face before — seems to be hitting him like a goddamn freight train.

Your blood runs cold as your own eyes round.

“...my stuff.”

Weakly you finish your thought, wishing for nothing but death right now.

Maybe a stranger, like a secret agent with wicked strength, will simply rush the bar and put you in a headlock and knock you out.

Maybe your drink will be poisoned.

You’re happy for anything so long as it’s swift.

Levi grunts in acknowledgement, slowly finding a spot on the empty stool beside yours.

Both of you swivel towards the bar, staring ahead.

Silence.

For what feels like hours, neither of you speak. The noise of the bar becomes overwhelming.

Somehow the surrounding voices feel amplified when you’ve lost your own.

It’s trapped between a thousand apologies and half a dozen explanations that sound worse than the one before it.

You need to get up.

Excuse yourself out.

Leave.

You won’t get your damn drink, but that’s fine so long as you’re not here.

“How’s your phone?”

Eventually Levi speaks, and you find yourself wishing he hadn’t.

The effect of his voice is even worse in person — so buttery smooth, the gravel much deeper in his chest now that there isn’t a phone receiver to dilute it.

“Not… damaged,” you reply cautiously.

“Good.”

Another stretch of silence passes, and you forget about ordering drinks altogether.

Your eyes drop to view his folded hands, how the veins protrude even when resting.

His fingers are slender, strong, and hate yourself for yearning.

You have to apologize.

This is crossing a line.

You need to—

“So—”

“I’m canceling my subscription.”

You blurt a fraction later than Levi, proclaiming your innocence before he can ever condemn it.

When you meet his steely eyes, they squint with curiosity.

From the crown of your head to your chin, he assesses in a serpentine pattern before eventually finding your eyes once more.

“How come?” he asks, leaning further against the bar top.

“I— how come?”

You repeat his question in surprise.

Wildly gesturing towards the space between you with your hand, you snort.

“Uh, because that’s the right thing to do in this circumstance? Because seeing you in person is borderline unethical?”

He hums at that, not giving you much to work with.

“And for the record, I did not stalk you to this bar.”

“Didn’t think you did.”

“I’m actually here with friends—”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

Levi interrupts, seemingly unbothered by your rambling.

“At the gym. I can make an educated guess and say you knew it was me from the second I opened my trap, but you didn’t say anything.”

Why isn’t he freaking out?

Shouldn’t he be freaking out?

Just as you open your mouth to continue professing your innocence, the bartender walks over and points to you.

“What can I get you?”

You blanch, no longer remember how to order drinks.

“I—”

“I got her tab,” Levi interrupts casually, tapping his index finger into the counter. “Two hard seltzers.”

Then he has the audacity to glance your way.

“Pineapple, right?”

Holy shit, he remembers your favorite flavor?

Is this a flex?

(It kind of feels like a flex; a way to say I know you, I was there.)

“...pineapple’s fine,” you murmur in return, hesitant.

The bartender doesn’t waste another second to rummage in the mini fridge on the other side of the bar for two slim cans.

For another agonizing thirty seconds, neither of you say a word.

He raises his chin to watch whatever sport’s game is playing overhead on the television.

You stare at your mirrored reflection in the bar backsplash.

This is real life.

The man you’ve spent hours talking to over the phone to, getting off to, is sitting right beside you, yet he isn’t trying to create distance.

If anything, he’s buying you a damn drink and asking you why.

Why didn’t you say something?

“I didn’t say anything at the gym because that would have been extremely inappropriate,” you finally argue under your breath, keeping the conversation strictly between you. “What would I have said? ‘Oh hey, guy I've paid to talk to on the phone every single night for the past week. Isn’t it crazy that I actually go to the same gym as you?’ That’s so creepy.”

When he says nothing, still staring at you, you continue to bury yourself into a deeper grave.

“I mean, I thought you lived, like… a billion miles from me. Maybe from another planet.”

His brows pinch with amusement.

“On Mars, or…?”

Oh.

He’s joking.

He’s actually joking about this.

You turn your chin, brow furrowed. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, and you have to force yourself to maintain eye contact.

“I wondered why you looked so scared of me on Friday. Thought maybe I smelled like shit from my workout.”

No, you want to say. Unfortunately it was the goddamn opposite.

“So you’re not…”

“Worried you’re a stalker trying to dox me because of my job?”

Levi blatantly finishes, and you wince.

Clearly he notices your embarrassment, because he sighs and relaxes his shoulders.

“I’m more pissed that you didn’t call all weekend, but then again, that’s the nature of the job.”

You both watch each other for a moment as the bartender returns, passing you both pineapple hard seltzers to nurse.

He pushes your can to your hand, nudging the icy-cold aluminum against your thumb, then picks up his own.

“The nature of the job?” you repeat, and he nods.

“People get bored. Run out of funds. Novelty wears off fast.”

Levi shrugs, sipping his drink.

“Just because you like talking to someone doesn’t mean they stick around. Wouldn’t blame 'em — shit gets expensive quick.”

“I just…”

You trail off, fighting to find the correct words to say.

“...I thought it wasn’t right to call again, knowing I knew what you looked like, so I didn’t.”

Explaining yourself makes your tongue feel sluggish, like you were caught red-handed in a crime you didn’t know you’d committed until hindsight.

“I can leave you alone,” you decide to add, holding your drink tighter. “Like I said, I’m here with my friends and… after all, you were doing your job. A great job. You’re kind of the reason I’m even here in the first place.”

Levi’s brow knits, and your eyes widen.

“Not like that!”

“Pretty shit at asserting yourself even in person,” he murmurs like it’s a cheeky inside joke, and he sips once more. “So how am I the reason?”

He’s not angry.

Hell, he’s conversational.

Not the least bit worried about how you’ve both managed to get here.

Might as well be honest.

“Because I decided to stop being a little less scared of the world,” you confess softly. “It— That’s why I got to the gym so early on Friday. I wanted to start doing strength training, like how you talk about how much you love it. And… I thought, maybe, I’d spend more time with friends. Get out there more. Be more assertive — beyond right now, obviously.”

The dark-haired man’s expression smooths at that in a mixture of recognition and surprise.

The slide of his brow is beautiful, and your heart squeezes at the sight of an animated Levi in the flesh, just as you pictured.

“Do you have to go back to your friends right now?”

At first you don’t quite register his question, but then it causes butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

He looks left to right, as if trying to find your troop of buddies, before returning his attention back to you.

“You don’t… want me to leave?”

Levi shakes his head.

You feel bolted to your stool, unable to move even if you wanted to.

Simultaneously you sip your drinks, keeping eye contact.

It feels intimate.

Too intimate.

“So, then…” You start slowly. “What does this mean?”

“Well,” Levi begins, mulling it over in his head. “Means the whole provider-client relationship has basically gone to shit. You know my face, now I know yours.”

“Right.”

“Then again, that professionalism was already well into a shit pile way before Friday morning.”

You blink, not following. “Huh?”

“There’s nothing in the company policy about what to do when you stumble into your client at the damn local gym, but there sure as hell wasn’t anything about…”

Levi trails off, clenching his jaw in debate.

“...about crossing the line I practically leapt over. I’m good at my job because of my detachment, but this was the only time I bordered on unethical myself. That wasn’t fair to you, and I’m sorry.”

Sorry.

Levi… was sorry?

The words blurt faster than you can stop yourself. “Why the hell are you sorry?”

His eyes widen with a budding uncertainty.

“I… just said I crossed the line?”

“When?”

“On the phone?”

“Okay, duh, but when?”

“Our last session.”

“So that was real.”

Levi actually got off to your voice.

If you weren’t in such shock about sitting here face-to-face with him at a local bar, then perhaps your ego would have, in fact, made a crash landing on Mars.

He considers his next words very carefully.

“It wasn’t supposed to be.”

Then he sips more before shaking his head.

“Look. It’s… a job a friend of mine got me. I’m not a real-life Casanova or any of that shit. Hell, most of my time was spent training punks to fight in a boxing ring, so I never had the energy for relationships or dating.”

You can't hide your surprise. “You were a fighter?”

He makes a noncommittal face.

“Loosely. Personal trainer, training in general — fell into it after I got out of the service.”

“Right, you were in the army,” you murmur, and the edge of his lips upticks at your recollection.

“A couple of months ago the gym I worked for went under, money got tight, so I thought I’d try it out. Guess everyone says it's hard to teach an old dog new tricks, but bossing fighters around and fielding horny-ass callers ain't all that different."

Levi turns his chin just so to regard you under a wispy black fringe.

“I can usually predict what someone wants. The people that call this hotline shit, they’re in and out."

He takes a pause.

"You, though — the second I picked up your call, you threw me through a goddamn loop.”

You use your nail on your index finger to absently scratch the side of your thumb, attempting to process everything he’s telling you.

"First night we spoke, actually, I ended up at this very bar to contemplate why the fuck I wanted you to call back. Didn't want you blowing your money on it, obviously, it's overpriced and ridiculous, but — it clearly shook me up enough for me to take then ten-minute walk in the middle of the night in the first place."

Ten minutes.

That length of time strikes something in you.

“So, your… office building isn’t far?” you slowly ask.

Levi shakes his head. “No, no office. I work remotely. Kind of the reason why I took the gig in the first place. I wouldn’t do this shit if I had an audience in a damn two-by-four cube.”

You’re not sure what possesses you to confess it, but you point past your shoulder.

“My apartment complex is actually six blocks down the street.”

Ten minutes away, is your implication.

His hand had raised to sip from his seltzer can, but it halts immediately.

His eyes narrow.

“The complex on Junction Ave?”

“Yeah," you say.

“Right across from—”

“The Reiss deli.”

That narrowed gaze shoots wide. “You’re shitting me.”

“You say the word shit a lot.”

“Baby, I live there,” he blurts.

“Wait, what?”

Now it’s your turn for your eyes to nearly pop out of your skull.

(You’re too shocked to even process what he called you.)

He huffs in a brief laugh, shaking his head.

“You gotta be fucking with me.”

“I’m not! Wait, you live in the same building as me?”

“You said Thomas was your goddamn mailman,” Levi states. “Do you know how many fucking Thomas the Mailmen there are in this world? I didn’t think we’d have the same one.”

Holy shit.

Oh, holy shit.

You sit up taller in your seat. “Wait, what floor?”

“Sixteenth.”

“I’m on the tenth!” you exclaim in your shock. “Holy shit, so you…”

Have been right above me this entire time.

Your phone buzzes, ruining your train of thought.

Reflexively you look down to see the preview of Annie’s message over your lock screen.

[A. LEONHART]: Did u die?

Right.

You’re here with friends.

“Friends wondering where you are?” Levi inquiries at the sight of your growing frown.

“Yeah, give me a sec.”

You swipe the screen north and type a reply.

[ME]: Talking to someone. Be over in a bit.

Annie’s reply is immediate, and you turn your phone from Levi’s view in mortification.

[A. LEONHART]: 🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆

[A. LEONHART]: WINGMAN??? NEED????

[ME]: NO! Do not come over here!

[A. LEONHART]: ok ok ok noted

[A. LEONHART]: i’ll keep jaeger to the left end of the bar

“Looks urgent.”

“Huh?”

You shoot a glance back up to Levi, who’s now angled towards you with his cheek squished against his clenched fist. His elbow props him up on the bar top.

“No! No. It’s just my friend Annie. She — is actually the one who gave me the number to that hotline in the first place,” you confess.

Levi hums in that delicious way you’ve come to crave.

“I don’t want to derail your evening. I’ve already taken you away from them for a while.”

Your heart is hesitant, but it grows despite yourself.

“If you want me to stay, then I’ll stay,” you quietly state. “I… liked talking to you. I mean, beyond the whole — you know.”

He nods once, setting his drink down.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t want you to disappear, either. My job’s not exactly corporate. Not many people can separate fantasy from reality. With you, I never had to bullshit what it was, but…”

Levi trails off, sighing heavily.

“...but I also understand if it’s just a fantasy, for you.”

Something nestles itself between the lines of his words.

Something he isn’t saying outright, sussing out if he has any right to try.

“Do you really mean that, Levi?”

That sigh turns into a curbed huff, smile fleeting but enough to bring your stomach butterflies.

“Damn. Sounds nice, hearing my name in person.”

Oh, sweet Jesus.

You could scream into your damn seltzer, but you decide to play it as cool as you possibly can.

“So Levi’s your real name?”

He nods.

“Not creative enough to come up with an alias."

Levi shifts, rolling out a shoulder.

"But to answer your question, I’m saying I… yeah, I mean it. I wouldn’t mind asking you out for coffee sometime, given we seem to run on the same gym schedule as it is. Just didn’t know if you wanted to leave it at the hotline and call it a day — no pun intended.”

Are you seriously hearing what he’s saying right now?

Does Levi want to step out of a fantasy and into your reality?

Your lips part with a million questions only to end up blurting a very stupid one:

“Are you single?”

That earns a bark of a laugh, causing his head to gloriously drop back, exposing his neck.

(All you want to do is sink your teeth into it.)

“Yes. Very,” he promises. “Are you, still?”

“Very,” you promise back.

“And my job doesn’t bother you?”

You haven't quite gotten that far, logistically, but it's only a coffee.

He isn't asking to marry you.

Besides, he talks about it like any other office job. You can't find any ill feeling toward it.

“Work is work,” you argue with a one-shoulder shrug. “Sure, it’s unconventional, but… I’m so used to not knowing what I want, or second-guessing what’s good for me, and I don’t think I’ve ever second guessed a damn thing with you.”

Bringing the seltzer back up to his mouth, Levi smirks against the can, mulling something over.

You smile in return, sipping your drink.

It's the truth.

He may not really know you, but he knows you.

Just as you're beginning to think you know him.

“Well, if you don’t get too wasted with your friends tonight—”

He steals a ballpoint pen from a dampened closed check from his left side.

Then he snatches a napkin from one of the bartending stations with lemons, limes, and straws.

Hunching over, he scribbles on said napkin, before turning a cheek to you.

“—and you end up going to the gym tomorrow morning—”

Levi then sits up taller, folds the napkin, and reaches for your hand resting on the bar top.

His skin is smooth.

Heated.

Your entire body melts to his whim as he turns your wrist over, palm facing up.

One by one his fingers unfurl your fingers, nestles the napkin in your hand, then closes your fist for safe keeping.

“—give me a call.”

Leaving a twenty on the bar counter, Levi lets go of your hand to slip off of his stool.

You say nothing as you watch him give you one last once-over, expression full of admiration, before turning into the sea of people.

A call.

Flexing your hand, you uncrinkle the napkin to read the number etched black on white.

Not the Scout Services Hotline.

No — his number.

Your attention flies back to the original spot where you've now properly abandoned your friends, but you know they'll forgive you for your absence.

Annie knows.

She'll cover for your abrupt disappearance.

On autopilot you yank out your phone, bypassing the texts from your friends, emails from work, and tap the little telephone icon.

Zero through nine appear.

Hastily you type the number, hesitation long gone, and press send.

One ring.

Two.

By the third, it abruptly cuts. You hear shuffling in the background. Cars beeping.

“Hello, Levi Ackerman speaking.”

Levi Ackerman.

Knowing his full name warms your heart.

Standing from your stool, you rise to your toes to search the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Levi stands there on the sidewalk, holding his phone up to his ear.

“Hi, Levi. It’s formerly Scarlet.”

Immediately he turns to the bar, searching the very same window.

Searching for you.

You smile to yourself.

"My schedule just opened up. I know it's a little late for some coffee, but..."

Trailing off, your teeth catch your bottom lip.

Be selfish.

"Are you free for some tea now?”

FIN

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

How are we feeling, Hotliner Nation? I teased that this may not be the end of this story. I'm not against writing a sequel, whether to continue the immediate story or time skip, but I wanted to see what people thought before I spoke too soon. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed our hotline journey together.

In the meantime I invite you to follow me here or subscribe to my AO3, as I have other projects in the works (including finishing the final chapters of my canon-based amnesia au with Levi, Silver Underground.)

The last two months have been such a wonderful journey, and I thank every single one of you for engaging the way you have. I never anticipated such a frenzy when I started P4, so sincerely, from the bottom of my heart - thank you for the comments, reblogs, inbox mssgs, etc. Every reblog gives this writer wings.

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x female reader #attack on titan fanfiction #snk fanfiction #snk fanfic #aot fanfic #aot fic #snk fic #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman fanfic #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #aot fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #aot smut #aot x reader #snk smut #snk x reader

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flowerandblood · 4 months ago

Text

The Price of Pride (1/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: the angst, kidnapping and imprisonment, abuse of power, violence, panic attack ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

It took him a long time to bring her to the Red Keep. Too long, to his frustration – while Aegon on his throne preferred to loudly announce to his subjects things he could not provide for them, he acted in silence, trying to ensure that he was always one step ahead of their sister-whore.

When Larys Strong's spies reported to them that Rhaenyra was seeking dragon seed among the bastards in King's Landing his brother laughed, but he, their mother and all the lords were horrified.

This meant that the slight advantage Vhagar had given them was going to be in vain, as she stood no chance in a confrontation with so many dragons.

Helaena was riding Dreamfyre, but at his words to move into battle with him she covered her ears and turned her head away, saying she would never burn anyone. Daeron's dragon was still too small, so that left him and Aegon, who was the King and could not die, on the battlefield.

That was not enough.

And then it dawned on him.

Rhea Royce must have been devastated after learning that her hated husband's seed had taken root in her womb. The whole kingdom knew that she and his uncle loathed each other sincerely, and while he stayed in King's Landing, she remained in Runestone.

He thought she certainly felt satisfaction when she gave him a daughter, although the Rough Prince wanted a son.

According to rumour, she was born accompanied by her mother's loud groans a few months apart after his own birth, and was supposed to be the reason Daemon waited with murdering her mother: he did not want the burden of caring for a newborn child to fall on him.

Though he would never admit it out loud, of the many lords or bastards born of dragon seed, his choice was guided not only by her close kinship to their family, but also by the fact that having her by his side could be a humiliation to his uncle, a show of his strength, prudence and sheer malice.

Of how dangerous he was not only because of Vhagar.

He had prepared an ambush for her with reverence, through Strong's spy network weaving servants close to her into his plan.

He had no idea what kind of woman she was, whether or not she resisted, whether or not she could wield a sword like her mother, but he received a letter weeks later that they had succeeded, and Daemon's daughter was heading for King's Landing against her will.

He felt a pleasant tingling in his fingertips at the thought of what he would be able to do with her: if he found her pretty and humble enough, if indeed she succeeded in taming a dragon, he could try to invalidate his betrothal to the Baratheon whore and allow her to receive the honour of bearing his heirs instead.

His own dragon inheritance.

When she finally arrived, she was, much to his mother's displeasure, placed in a dungeon – he wanted her to understand that her situation was serious and that any answer from her that did not satisfy him would end in one way.

Her death.

He went down to the underground with the guards and dismissed them when he stopped under her cell with the torch in his hand, its light exposed her face to him.

She was sitting on the ground with her knees tucked under her chin, her head raised towards him, the look of her eyes frustrated and grim, her dark brows arched in displeasure.

She was not afraid.

For now.

He looked at her figure from top to bottom, finding that he had imagined her differently: he had hoped to see any Targaryen features in her. However, her long hair was dark, her eyelashes long and black, like a fan surrounding her brown eyes, which were as big as those of a doe.

Clearly it was her mother's blood that prevailed, he thought with disappointment, however his face remained stony.

"Do you know who I am, woman?" He asked coldly, the corner of her mouth twitching, her gaze softening as if his words amused her, making him feel uneasy.

"It's hard not to guess." She replied without any pleasantries.

He licked his lower lip in a gesture of frustration, recognising that he would not allow himself to be verbally dominated by her.

He had to knock her off her guard.

"Do you understand why you're here?"

She sighed heavily, looking down at her fingers, suddenly tired and small, like a child who wanted to go to sleep already.

"Because of my father, I guess. You are wasting your time. I don't represent any value to him. He will not pact with you for my sake." She said, and he snorted, grinning broadly – she looked at him in surprise, as if she hadn't expected such a reaction from him.

"You are mistaken. We need your blood."

She shook her head, shocked by his words, raising her shoulders in a gesture as if trying to defend herself against what she just heard.

He liked the look of terror on her face, no doubt at the thought that they were about to cut her wrists open and drain her of blood like an animal.

"We will find one of the wild dragons hidden in the mountain caves and you will try to claim it. You will die, or you will succeed and join the war on our side." He said coldly, and she burst out laughing, as if she hadn't heard a greater foolishness in a long time, causing his jaw to clench in fury.

Stupid cunt.

"I know nothing about dragons or their riders and have no desire to learn about them. This, I think, is something that is destined for those endowed by the gods with white hair. I have no intention of sacrificing myself for your family. Behead me or burn me, but spare me this farce." She sneered, looking away, as if she thought she could get away with such impudent words.

She picked herself up and took a few steps back as he unlocked her cell and a moment later he was beside her, dropping the torch to the stone floor, grabbing her by the neck, her body and head hitting the wall hard.

He stared at her for a moment, listening to her heavy breath as if she was choking, panic in her big, brown eyes.

Fear suited her.

"Do you think I'm asking you for your opinion? You will serve me, and you will serve me well, or I will burn not you, but all of the fucking Vale. Only dust and ashes will be left of the people you knew. Is that what you want, my Lady?" He scoffed, and she shook her head quickly, her lower lip quivering all over, her small, soft hands clenched on his wrist.

He leaned over her, digging his fingers deeper into her delicate skin as if he wanted to break her neck.

"So we have an agreement, as I understand it?" He whispered, as if asking her a secret, something only he should hear.

Her eyebrows arched in pain, her plump lips parted in a deep, shuddering breath as she nodded, her warm gaze filled with pain and regret at the same time.

Was she now begging in her mind for her father to save her?

For him to come to her rescue?

The thought made him want to laugh.

"Mmm." He hummed, looking at her red eyes and full lips, feeling a strange kind of intimacy now that he could feel her veins, her blood, dragon's blood, pulsing under her bare skin.

Their shared heritage.

His seed was stronger than Daemon's, he thought with a confidence bordering on vanity.

Their children would have his white hair.

He felt arousal at that thought, his length pulsed softly in his breeches.

He let go of her, and she took a deep breath, sliding to the ground, clutching at her neck where he'd driven his fingers.

"You will be moved to one of the chambers. You will not lack anything. Serve me well and no more harm will befall you." He said in an offhand manner and simply left, satisfied with how childishly simple it was.

The women and their soft hearts, their despair at the thought that someone else might lose their life because of them, their eternal pondering and tenderness that made them so weak.

"I have heard of your success, brother. I was told we had a visitor in the Keep." Said Aegon, glancing at him, seated at the other end of the table, while his hand played with the marble green orb lying before him.

"Yes. She will obey us. I will personally prepare her." He said, resting his elbows on the table top.

The King laughed.

"You, brother? What does your beloved betrothed in Storm's End would say about it?" He sneered, glancing at the lords around them as if asking if his joke was in fact funny.

He grinned, trying to contain his anger and that familiar, unpleasant feeling of humiliation rippling through his chest.

"Who else would do this? You, with your superior knowledge of the language of Old Valyria will teach her commands and behaviour towards a wild dragon?" He asked, looking him straight in the eye.

His brother grew pale and swallowed hard, tense, feeling that he had lost this battle.

"Bring her in." He ordered.

Soon the door to the room opened, and she walked in, accompanied by the guards: she was wearing one of his mother's old brown gowns, its red sleeves reaching to the ground. Her hair was loose but not in disarray, falling gently down her back, as if she had not let any servant touch it and combed it herself.

"Come closer, cousin." Said Aegon with a smile, raising his hand and nodding, clearly wanting to encourage her.

She reluctantly took a few steps closer, looking around the assembled people anxiously, finally meeting his gaze – she stopped for a moment at his face, as if she was thinking hard about something, and then turned her head away, suddenly tired and resigned.

Good, he thought.

There was no need for her to stand up to him.

"We are overjoyed by your presence, even though you were brought here under not very pleasant circumstances. I hope you will quickly forget about these… discomforts and support us in our cause. My brother is extremely eager to prepare you for this." Aegon said, her lips twitching in a grimace that he didn't like when he mentioned him, but no words left her mouth.

"Are you not glad to face your father? Did he not forget you and abandon you for so many years?" Continued Aegon, their mother looked at him and shook her head, wanting him to stop.

She lifted her gaze to his brother-king and looked at him for a moment, her expression gentle and calm.

"I have nothing to say to you, cousin. Do with me what you wish."

A heavy, uncomfortable silence fell around them – he feared what Aegon would do with this insult – the fact that she had humiliated him by simply calling him her cousin, speaking to him without proper etiquette or manners.

Aegon pressed his lips together and leaned forward, as if thinking hard about something.

"Our family has forgotten you. Left you the fuck knows where, motherless and fatherless. And I am deeply sorry for it."

He looked at him shocked, not believing that he had said such a thing, apologised to her even though it was she who had offended him, and then looked at her face – her eyes turned red, her lips parted slightly, as if he had stuck a needle straight into her heart.

What was he doing?

Aegon spread himself comfortably in his chair with a loud creak of wood, smiling with satisfaction.

"You may leave."

He did not know why he had been furious all evening, why, bent over the maps of Westeros, planning his fucking war, he had been unable to focus or calm himself.

He knew why his brother had done it: he wanted to bond with her, to show him that he was the one she would obey, that he was in control of the situation, that he was the King.

"Bring our prisoner." He ordered loudly so that the servant who was just taking the tray from his table heard it.

"As you wish, Your Highness."

When she walked into his chamber she stopped immediately behind the door, which closed behind her with a loud clatter. He glanced up at her dispassionately and looked again at the books he had taken from his shelves, which he had often browsed through as a child.

This was his legacy, not hers.

But he had to do it.

"Come here. Sit down." He said dryly and after a moment he heard the rustling of her gown.

As she sat in the chair beside him he smelled her, some kind of oil that scented of field flowers, chamomile or daisies, and he thought that she had taken a bath.

Something in that thought, in the idea of her bare, soft body sunk in the warm water, made his manhood throb pleasantly, tingling heat spreading through his lower abdomen.

He moved one of the books towards her, open to the page on which was written what he wanted to discuss with her.

"Can you read?" He asked coldly, and she threw him a look from which he felt like grabbing her cheeks and shaking that little head of hers.

She didn't answer, which frustrated him even more, clutching the volume in her hands and leaning over it, following the text with her eyes.

So she could read, he thought mockingly.

"The dragons understand the language of Old Valyria, and this is how the dragon riders communicate with them. You have to learn to speak the commands properly." He sighed, running his hand over his face, feeling tired and discouraged.

"Dohaerās means serve. Rȳbās means listen. These are the most important words, right next to Lykirī, which commands a dragon to remain calm." He said, tilting his head back, closing his eyes. "Repeat."

Silence.

He pressed his lips together, opening his eyes, thinking he was about to kill her with his own hands.

He looked at her, wanting to hiss to her that he was going to slam her head against the table until she dutifully recited each of the words he was ordering her to repeat but his voice stuck in his throat when he saw the look on her face.

He had the impression that although she froze in stillness, her whole body was quivering, as if she was cold.

Her eyes were open wide in fear, and even though her lips were pressed into a thin line she was breathing heavily, as if she were suffocating, her fingers clenched on the back of the book.

Was it possible that she had heard these words before, had read a book similar to this?

Did Daemon try to teach her the language of Old Valyria when she was a child?

He didn't know what he should do, feeling that if he touched her she would just fall apart, so he merely looked at her, wondering how such a person was supposed to tame a dragon.

He rose from his seat as if burned, snapped out of his reverie when her eyes rolled back and she simply fainted, her body, numb and heavy slid to the floor beneath their feet.

He circled the table and knelt beside her, slapping his palm against her cheek in an attempt to revive her, but she did not wake up.

"Bring the Maester, quickly!" He called out and cursed loudly, restraining himself from screaming with rage.

"What have you done to her?" His mother hissed quietly, so that only he could hear it while the Maester examined her.

He turned his face away and shook his head, wondering if everyone in this damned fortress was against him.

After all, he was doing this for them.

For their family.

"Nothing. She was only supposed to read a few words. I didn't even touch her." He growled, his hands intertwined behind his back clenched into a fist.

Why didn't she trust him?

Why was she looking at him like this, as if she didn't recognise him?

Hadn't he always been faithful to her?

"What words? What did you say to her?"

"Words in Old Valyrian, nothing more. She must learn it if she is not to burn in the dragon fire, and our efforts are not to be in vain." He scoffed impatiently.

"We do not know what Daemon did to her. Whether she saw her mother die."

"I don't care what he did to her or what she saw." He said, throwing her a look from which she froze. "We have an agreement and she knows what will happen if she doesn't fulfill it."

"What will happen? You'll burn the Vale?" Alicent asked with a sneer, and he pressed his lips together, feeling a terrible, piercing shame.

"She will stay in my care tonight. Don't go near her until she recovers." She told him and stepped around him.

He felt as if she had slapped him in the face so he left, not wanting anyone to see the burning tears of disappointment that had gathered under his eyelids.

He didn't let them flow.

He was not weak.

He was not like her.

He was not like Aegon.

He was not like his father.

805 notes · View notes

kookiewithluv · 6 days ago

Text

ASHES OF A PROMISE

• TITLE: ASHES OF A PROMISE

• PAIRING: Lycan king!Jungkook x Werewolf!Reader

•WORD COUNT: 23.6k

• GENRE: Paranormal Romance, Dark Fantasy, Smut, Slow burn, Fluff (?), Tragic Romance, Grumpy X Sunshine(?), Royal au

• TRIGGER WARNING: The following content contains themes of emotional distress, manipulation, rejection, and verbal abuse, including emotionally charged arguments and hurtful dialogue that could be distressing. There are references to violence, power dynamics, and trauma. Additionally, there are moments of self-doubt, intense emotional breakdowns, and interactions involving possessive and hostile behaviors. Please proceed with caution if these topics are sensitive or triggering for you.

• SUMMARY: You were a hopeless romantic, dreaming of a mate who would love you as fiercely as you loved him. But when you finally meet your mate, you discover he’s no ordinary wolf — he’s the Lycan king, the alpha of all alphas. Worse, he neither wants you nor is willing to reject you, leaving you trapped in a loveless bond in his kingdom. As queen to a king who resents you, the mate bond grows stronger, making you more vulnerable with each passing day. Now, you must break through the walls around his heart and make him love you, because staying in this bond without love is unbearable, yet leaving isn’t an option he’ll allow.

• a/n: This story is entirely a work of fiction and is the sole property of @kookiewithluv . The characters, events, and scenarios depicted are products of the imagination and are not intended to represent or reflect real-life situations, nor do I wish for anything portrayed here to occur in reality. I kindly ask that my work not be copied, translated, or reposted as your own on this or any other platform, including YouTube. Please respect the effort and originality behind this piece. Thank you for your understanding and support.

PROLOGUE 01 MASTERLIST 03

CHAPTER 2: BITTER BONDS

The warm rays of the sun scrambled into your room, filtering through the thin curtains and casting streaks of light across the walls. One fell directly on your face, jarring you awake. You stirred, groaning softly as you turned your face into the pillow, but the persistent sunlight won. Squinting, you opened your eyes, only to immediately shut them again, wincing as the brightness stabbed through your eyelids. With a tired sigh, your hand rose to shield your face, your fingers pressing against your temples as if to push away the dull ache lingering behind your eyes.

The sunlight bathed the room in gold, but it might as well have been pitch black. The sun’s glow felt hollow, incapable of touching the cold void within your chest. You stared blankly at the floor, your shoulders slumping forward, the weight of exhaustion—mental and emotional—pulling you down. The exhaustion wasn’t just in your body—it was in your bones, your mind, your very soul.

Pushing yourself up, you sat on the edge of the bed, your feet brushing against the cold floor. Your shoulders slumped, weighed down by thoughts you couldn’t silence, and your fingers curled into fists at your sides. It was a new day, but it didn’t feel like it. There was no hope. You didn’t want to be here. Not in this room, not in this life. Every cell in your body ached to escape, to run until the memories, the pain, and he couldn’t catch you. You wanted to run. Far away. From this place. From yourself. From everything.

Dragging your feet, you moved towards the washroom, each step slow and reluctant. Inside, you came to a halt in front of the mirror. For a long moment, you just stood there, gripping the edges of the sink. Your knuckles whitened as your fingers tightened, grounding you against the sight before you.

The woman in the mirror looked back at you, but she wasn’t you—not anymore. Red-rimmed eyes, swollen and glassy, looked out from a face streaked with old tears. Your lips quivered, tightening into a thin, bitter line as the taste of grief and shame flooded your tongue.

It wasn’t the face of someone who had found happiness. It was the face of someone who had been drowning for too long, someone who had forgotten how to breathe. Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill again, but you blinked them away, your jaw clenching so hard it ached.

Who was she?

The woman in the mirror, with her defeated eyes and trembling lips, disgusted you. No, not disgust. It was something worse—pity. You hated the downheartedness that stared back at you, hated how small, how broken, you looked. Your lips pressed together, trembling before you forced them still.

You released the sink and let your arms fall to your sides, but they felt too heavy, lifeless. A harsh laugh escaped your lips—sharp, bitter, and hollow. Your reflection laughed with you, her lips curving in a way that mocked you. How could you not feel this way? You had every reason to. And yet, you told yourself not to. To push it down, to ignore it. Your teeth clenched at the irony.

What good was a heart if all it did was remind you you’re alive to feel this?

The woman in the mirror wasn’t just tired—she was hollow, her spirit stripped bare. Her shoulders slumped forward, her head bowed slightly, as if the weight of her own reflection was too much to bear. The defeat in her eyes mirrored your own. You looked down, gripping the edge of the sink so hard your fingers began to ache. Why wouldn’t you feel defeated?

Since you were seven, all you’d ever wanted was a mate—someone to love, someone who would love you back. Every she-wolf dreamed of a mate who was strong, powerful, the kind of male who could rule the world with a flick of his hand. But not you. Never you. All you ever prayed for was someone who would love you with all their being. Someone who would breathe for you, as though you were the air in their lungs. Someone who couldn’t imagine a world where you didn’t exist. All you ever asked for was love.

And what did you get?

The strongest mate alive. The Lycan King, Jeon Jungkook. A bond forged by the moon goddess, not by love, not by affection. The kind of bond others envied, but for you, it was solely pain.

Your breath hitched as you thought back to the war, to the day your parents were taken from you. Their faces flickered behind your closed eyes. After their deaths, you had no one. No arms to hold you, no soothing voice to tell you it would be okay. Yet, you didn’t let yourself fall. You kept your head high.

Even when Alpha Sebastian slithered into your life with his venomous charm, trying to force his affection onto you, you didn’t break. Not when he found cruel ways to punish you for rejecting him, nor when the whispers started. The pack blamed you for Luna’s death, saying it was your fault that Alpha Sebastian had stopped caring for his mate. She lost faith in their bond because of you, they said. She lost her life because of you.

They called you an abomination, a curse, a living punishment from the Moon Goddess.

But even then, you held on.

you’d held on to hope.

But now?

The word left a bitter taste on your tongue now. The woman in the mirror, with her tired eyes and trembling shoulders, didn’t believe anymore. You lifted your hand, brushing it over your face as if you could wipe away the emptiness.

Your voice cracking as you stared into the reflection. “Is this what I waited for?”

Your chest heaved as the questions clawed their way out of you. Love and expectation—they were inseparable. You’d given your heart to the idea of a mate, to the promise that the Moon Goddess hadn’t forgotten you. And now? Now, that belief felt like the cruelest lie.

Love, like everything else, had betrayed you.

"Bee?" A soft, calm voice called from the other side of the door. "Bee, you in there?"

You froze, your grip tightening around the cold edges of the sink. It was Patricia. Her voice, usually gentle, carried a fragile note now—worried, uncertain. The sound of it made your throat tighten and the urge to cry hit you like a crashing wave.

But you wouldn’t.

You couldn’t.

Not anymore. What was the point of shedding tears for someone who had made it abundantly clear that he didn’t care? His words from yesterday replayed in your mind like a haunting echo. Each syllable was a blade, dipped in venom, slicing through your heart in the cruelest, slowest way. You had heard him, all of him—his disdain, his indifference, his utter denial of everything you were.

You inhaled sharply, trying to ground yourself. Crying over someone like him felt like a waste. Someone so cold, so void of love for you, someone who found your very presence displeasing. The thought alone made your chest burn with humiliation.

"Bee?" Patricia called again, her voice more hesitant this time. A soft knock followed, breaking the silence of the small bathroom.

Your lips parted, trembling slightly as you forced the words out. "Yeah," you rasped, barely above a whisper. The sound of your own voice startled you—hoarse, dry, as if it had been scraped raw.

You knew why. You’d cried all night.

You swallowed thickly, pressing a trembling hand to your throat as if to soothe the ache there. Patricia would hear you, you were certain. She always did. Mated to the royal general, a powerful Lycan, her senses were sharper now than they ever had been. Before her bond, she’d been no stronger than a human. But the mate bond had changed her, as it did all she-wolves who were bonded to stronger males.

Your hands gripped the sink tighter, your nails digging into the porcelain as your head hung low. You hated thinking about it. About how everything—the bond, the strength, the connection—was supposed to mean something.

It was laughable.

You blinked, your eyes stinging as Patricia’s words barely registered in your mind. Jungkook’s face flashed before you, his piercing gaze filled not with love or warmth, but disdain. How could he look at you, his mate, his one and only, with such disregard? How could he reject everything you were, everything you could offer him?

What a cruel joke.

Mates were supposed to complete each other, to offer a bond so deep, so intimate, that no other connection could compare. Your nails scraped against the sink as your hands dropped, hanging limp at your sides. Tears welled in your eyes again, blurring your reflection. You swallowed hard, your jaw clenching as you pressed your palm to your chest. The pain there was suffocating, but you forced yourself to push it down.

"Oh," she said softly from the other side of the door, the sound dragging you from your thoughts. Her tone was light but carried an edge of hesitation, almost as if she were reluctant to disturb you.

"Actually," she continued, pausing briefly, "I was sent here to escort you to breakfast. The others are just about to start, so I’m supposed to ask you to hurry… but truly, take as much time as you need." Her words were soft, kind, her voice as soothing as a breeze on a stifling day. Patricia’s sweet nature was one of the few things you found comforting here. She wasn’t intrusive, just gentle.

There was a faint rustling sound as her footsteps retreated from the door, but the faint scent of lavender and mist lingered. It curled around you like an invisible ribbon, letting you know she hadn’t left the room. No, she was likely perched on her usual spot—the chair by the window, quietly watching the pack.

You sighed deeply, staring at the fogged bathroom mirror for a moment longer before shaking yourself out of it. There wasn’t time to wallow anymore. You moved quickly, showering with cold, hurried motions, scrubbing away the remnants of tears and exhaustion from your skin.

As you stepped out of the bathroom, dressed and somewhat composed, Patricia rose from her chair. Her movements were fluid yet unhurried, her head turning to meet your gaze. There was no judgment in her eyes, only a calm understanding. "Let’s go," she said softly, stepping toward the door with you following close behind.

Once in the hallway, she glanced at you and added, "Please walk ahead."

Her voice was still kind, but there was a subtle shift—a hint of annoyance beneath the surface. It caught you off guard. Patricia was always so patient, so unwavering in her gentleness, that the change in her tone made you hesitate. You nodded quickly and stepped forward, keeping your head low. The air between you felt slightly tense now, a faint pressure that made your shoulders sag further.

The truth was, you didn’t blame her. You’d been here for two days, and all you’d done was cry in your room. The grand halls and towering structures of this unfamiliar place were still foreign to you. You hadn’t even explored the parts of the estate you were allowed to wander. Most of your time was spent avoiding everyone, drowning in your own thoughts.

The silence between you stretched as you walked, Patricia trailing just a step behind. You glanced at her from the corner of your eye. Her expression was neutral, but there was something about the way her arms were crossed loosely in front of her and the way her lips pressed together that made you think she was holding back.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to," you said softly, walking beside her, your steps light but hesitant. "I seem to forget..."

“It’s fine, Bee,” Patricia interrupted, her voice steady but her posture slightly tense. She glanced at you, her sharp gaze unwavering. “But remember, you can’t afford to forget things here.” Her hand brushed against the fabric of her dress, a nervous gesture she quickly masked by straightening her posture. “Life in the palace isn’t like your pack. The smallest misstep can turn into a crime faster than you’d think.”

Her words carried weight, but it was the way her lips pressed into a thin line that made you pause. She exhaled quietly, as if debating whether to say more, before her eyes softened with a flicker of understanding.

“I know,” she said, her voice lowering, “because I was once where you are. I know what it’s like to come from a place where trust and loyalty is a given. But here?” She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper, her breath warm against your ear. “It’s not the same here.”

Her tone sent a shiver down your spine, but before you could respond, Patricia straightened abruptly, her expression now unreadable.

“What?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, your brows furrowing in confusion.

“We’re here,” she said, her tone flat as you both entered the dining hall.

And there he was.

Jungkook.

Your mate. Your king.

Your heart leapt into your throat, beating too fast as your eyes locked with his. The world around you seemed to blur and fade as your body reacted before your mind could catch up. A rush of warmth flooded your face, shame clawing at you for still caring so much when he had made it clear how little you mattered.

How could your body betray you like this? After everything, how could it still react to him this way?

The subtle shift in his body was almost imperceptible, but you saw it. His jaw tightened, his shoulders stiffened, and then… His eyes flashed yellow.

It was brief—a flicker that lasted no more than a heartbeat. But it was enough to make your stomach twist. For a fleeting moment, his expression crumbled. There was something there, something raw. Sadness? Guilt? But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

The hardness returned to his features, his eyes now cold and distant. You stared at him, your thoughts racing. Had you imagined it? Surely, you must have. Why would he ever feel anything for you? Emotions were a luxury he’d never shown, especially not toward you.

Your heart ached at the memory of his harsh words, his refusal, the way he’d made it abundantly clear that he neither desired you nor wanted you that you were nothing but an obligation.

You forced yourself to look away, biting the inside of your cheek until the metallic tang of blood filled your mouth. This was your reality, and no matter how much it hurt, you had to accept it.

Patricia walked gracefully to her mate, her fingers brushing against his shoulder as she took her place beside him. You followed her steps hesitantly, your heart pounding as you aimed for the empty seat next to her.

But before you could sit, a voice—low, gruff, and tinged with barely restrained anger—cut through the air. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Your head snapped up, your breath hitching as you met his gaze. Jungkook. His dark eyes bore into yours with an intensity that sent a chill down your spine. His jaw was clenched, the muscle there twitching as he fought for control. You swallowed hard, feeling exposed under his scrutiny.

You wanted to act clueless, to feign innocence, but deep down, you knew exactly what he meant. His wolf, restless and simmering with frustration, was furious at your attempt to distance yourself. And yet, the anger you saw in his eyes didn’t seem directed at you—it felt like it was aimed inward.

Before you could respond, Neil’s calm voice broke the tension. “Luna, please sit here.”

Neil, gestured toward the seat beside Jungkook. His tone was gentle but firm, a quiet firmness in his words. It was the first time he had addressed you directly, and it caught you off guard.

You glanced at Neil, noting the warmth in his eyes as they flickered briefly to Patricia. His love for her was unmistakable, a bond so strong it almost hurt to witness. You’d always admired him for it, envied it even.

For a moment, defiance sparked in your chest. You wanted to refuse, to argue, to push Jungkook’s buttons just as he had pushed yours so many times before. But as your gaze shifted around the room, you saw the quiet anticipation in the faces of those seated at the table. This wasn’t the time for petty defiance.

Your shoulders slumped, and with a quiet sigh, you turned toward the seat beside Jungkook. Fear clawed at your insides as you took your place next to him, the scent of him making your heart twist painfully.

He didn’t look at you at first, but you could feel his attention like a physical weight. His presence was smothering, his gaze burning into the side of your face. You shifted uncomfortably, your fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your dress.

“Could you please not stare?” you asked, your voice strained but steady.

Jungkook blinked, his head tilting slightly as if considering your request. Then, to your surprise, he nodded and turned his gaze away.

The absence of his attention left a muted ache in your chest, one you couldn’t explain. You bit your lip, frustrated with yourself, with him, with everything. What did you want from him?

Your stomach chose that moment to growl loudly, breaking the silence. Your eyes widened in mortification as you instinctively placed a hand over your stomach. Slowly, you raised your gaze, feeling heat rush to your face as every pair of eyes at the table turned to you.

Kian, sitting across from you, grinned broadly, his amusement clear. “Well, someone’s hungry,” he teased, his tone light and playful.

Neil chuckled softly, leaning forward slightly. “Luna, you seem quite famished,” he said warmly. “Let’s call the maid to serve you, shall we?”

"Eat." The word left Jungkook’s lips like an order, firm and without room for argument.

You glanced at him, startled, and whatever faint smile had been tugging at your lips vanished. Your eyes darted to the plate he had pushed toward you—his plate, laden with food that he had been served.

For a moment, you just stared at it, confusion knotting your stomach. What was he doing? Why?

Jungkook’s jaw was tight, his face unreadable, but his actions screamed louder than words. Your chest tightened as the realization settled in—this wasn’t just about food. Among wolves, this act, this gesture, was intimate. Deeply so. A male sharing his plate with his mate was a declaration, a way of showing care and devotion. It was a prideful, loving tradition.

But here? Now? With him? It felt like a cruel mockery.

Your throat dried as you sat frozen, your fingers twitching against the edge of the table. The food, no matter how beautifully plated, felt like poison on display.

"You’re hungry, aren’t you?" His voice cut through your spiraling thoughts, calm and steady, but his sharp gaze pinned you in place.

You wanted to lash out, to demand answers, to scream at him for the impossible game he seemed to be playing with your heart. But instead, you bit the inside of your cheek and looked away, your nails digging into your palm beneath the table.

"I am," you whispered. Your voice barely carried over the tension that hung between you, and you knew he’d caught the bitterness hidden beneath it. Your fingers reached out, shaky, as you took the fork and scooped up a bite of food. The silence around the table was deafening as you brought it to your mouth.

The moment the food touched your tongue, a wave of nausea rolled through you. It wasn’t the taste—it was good, perhaps too good. But the knot in your stomach tightened as you swallowed. Your chest ached, your emotions teetering between hurt and anger, sorrow and frustration.

The maids arrived, placing plates in front of him as the others had already begun eating. You focused on your own plate, determined to finish as quickly as you could. You were practically swallowing your food, each bite feeling heavier than the last. The sooner you finished, the sooner you could escape.

But his gaze. God, his gaze.

It bore into you, unwavering, a mix of amusement and something else you couldn’t place. Anger simmered in your chest, like molten lava threatening to erupt. Why couldn’t he just look away?

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, his movements deliberate, his jaw tightening as his eyes remained locked on you. He wasn’t just watching; he was studying, dissecting every little movement you made.

You felt heat rise to your face, not from embarrassment but from pure frustration. Your grip on the fork tightened as you shoveled the last bite into your mouth.

When you finally set your fork down, you realized you hadn’t eaten any faster than the others. Taking a deep breath, you stood, your chair scraping against the floor as you pushed it back and you turned on your heel and headed for the door. But just as you stepped outside, a hand clamped around your arm, firm but not painful. The electric zing that shot up your arm told you exactly who it was before he even spoke.

“Wait,” Jungkook said, his voice low and commanding.

You stopped but didn’t turn to face him. Your body stiffened under his touch, the tingling sensation spreading like wildfire. You clenched your teeth, willing yourself to stay calm.

“What do you want, Jungkook?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended. You finally turned to meet his eyes, and there it was—something flickering in them. Frustration? Guilt? A plea for something he’d never admit aloud?

He stood there, frozen in place, his gaze locked on you as though the weight of his unspoken words was crushing him. His lips parted slightly, but the only sound that escaped was a shaky breath, faint and unsteady. His chest rose and fell in slow, deliberate movements, as if he was trying to summon the courage to speak.

His hand, warm and firm around your arm, trembled almost imperceptibly. His fingers tightened, not out of aggression but as though he was anchoring himself, trying to keep you from slipping away. His boba eyes, wide and glistening, drifted down to where his hand rested against your skin. For a moment, he seemed utterly captivated by the contact, the conflict in his expression so raw it almost startled you.

You followed his gaze, your eyes drawn to the place where his touch burned, not with fire, but with something far more complicated. Was that guilt? Was he finally regretting what he had said—the wounds he’d inflicted on you, on your pride, your soul, your very essence?

Your heart ached, but it wasn’t for yourself. No, it was for him. For the man who looked so lost in his towering, intimidating frame. But you bit back the tenderness rising in your throat. He didn’t deserve it. Not yet. Not after everything.

Jungkook let out a slow, trembling sigh, his eyes lifting back to yours. And in that moment, your breath caught. There was something there, something raw and unguarded. Vulnerability. Pain. Hope.

You hated it.

No, you hated yourself for how it made you feel—for how it cracked the armor you’d built against him. You wanted to deny it, to run from it, but the truth burned in the back of your mind. You’d step into the monster’s den again and again if he asked you to.

“I…” His voice cracked, barely audible, and he looked away, his lashes casting soft shadows against his cheekbones. His jaw clenched, then relaxed, his lips moving as if silently rehearsing the words he couldn’t seem to say aloud. “I just wanted to…”

“To what?” you snapped, cutting him off. The sharpness in your voice masked the vulnerability bubbling inside you. You crossed your arms, pulling yourself from his grasp, his hand falling limply to his side.

He flinched, but he didn’t back away. His shoulders slumped slightly, the perfect, confident facade slipping just enough for you to see the man beneath the alpha.

“I just…” he began again, swallowing hard. His Adam’s apple bobbed, the motion almost painful to watch. “I just want to talk.”

“Talk?” You laughed, the sound sharp and bitter, slicing through the heavy silence like a blade. “You think there’s anything left to say? After all you’ve done, after all you’ve said? You made yourself perfectly clear, Jungkook. You don’t want me. So why pretend now?”

He flinched, his shoulders stiffening as your words hit him like a whip. His jaw tightened, and his hand curled into a fist. “You think I’m pretending?” His voice was low but defensive, the anger in his tone sparking like a flame trying to catch.

“Aren’t you?” you shot back, your arms crossing tightly over your chest. You held your ground, even as his presence loomed larger, more controlling. “Why am I even here, standing before a king who’s never once truly wanted me?” His brows furrowed, and his lips parted, but no words came. Frustration rippled through him, his clenched fists trembling at his sides.

“You’re my mate,” he said finally, the words laced with a mix of gloom and desperation.

“Am I?” You laughed again, colder this time, the sound devoid of warmth. “Or am I just convenient, something to acknowledge when it suits you? Because the rest of the time, I’m nothing more than an obligation, aren’t I? Something forced on you, something you resent.”

“It’s not like that,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to the floor. His voice was soft, uncertain, as though he didn’t believe the words himself.

“Don’t lie to me,” you snapped, your voice cracking. You took a step closer, forcing him to meet your eyes. “I’ve lived through your silence, your indifference. You meant every single word you’ve ever said, Jungkook. Don’t you dare stand here and tell me otherwise.”

His head lifted, and his eyes, wide and panicked, locked with yours. There was a crack in his carefully built facade, a flicker of vulnerability that nearly made you falter. “I didn’t mean it like that—”

“Oh, but you did,” you cut him off, your voice trembling despite the steel in your tone. “I thought—stupidly, I thought—you sent me there because you felt guilty. That maybe, somewhere in that cold, unfeeling heart of yours, there was a shred of care for me. But no. It wasn’t guilt, was it? You didn’t want the council to find out. That’s all it was. Heaven forbid anyone know the king has a mate. Heaven forbid you’d ever risk anything for me”

His lips parted as if to protest, but no sound came. You took a shaky breath, willing yourself to stay composed, even as your heart splintered anew. “Tell me, Jungkook. Am I really that unlovable?”

His face twisted, anguish written across his features. “No… no, no,” he stammered, his voice breaking. He reached out as if to touch you, but his hand hovered in the air, uncertain and trembling. “Just listen to me—”

“Then say it,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but steady as a blade. “Say what you’ve been holding back, Jungkook.”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he took a step closer. His chest heaved, and his fingers twitched at his sides, but just as he opened his mouth to speak, a sweet, melodic voice pierced the moment.

“Jungkook?”

His body froze. His head turned toward the source, blocking your view as his broad shoulders shifted. Your stomach twisted. You didn’t need to see her face to know who it was. But then, to your bitter satisfaction—or dismay—you didn’t have to wait. She stepped into view, her movements graceful, like a predator perfectly aware of her power. Elizabeth. The council head’s daughter. Her soft, golden curls framed a face so beautiful it could have been painted by the gods. And yet, all you could think was, What is she doing here?

She stood beside him now, her hand brushing lightly against his arm as she smiled. You could feel your pulse pounding in your ears as you fought to keep your expression blank. The question burned in your mind, louder than anything else. Why is she here? At the palace?

“Jungkook,” she whispered, her voice soft but deliberate, and you felt as though the ground beneath you had split open. Why was she calling your mate by his name? No one did that—no one was allowed to—unless they were bound to him by blood or he had given them explicit permission. Your chest tightened as a swarm of questions filled your head. Why would Jungkook let her? Were they close? How close?

Her slender hand rested on his arm, her fingers brushing against the dark fabric of his sleeve like it belonged there. Her lips curved into a gentle smile as her eyes searched his face, her expression calm and confident, while Jungkook—your mate—stood frozen under her gaze. You watched, your heart pounding as he stared at her, his usual unreadable mask slipping into something that made your stomach churn. His confusion was evident, but there was something else—something that looked a lot like fear.

Why does he look like that?

“Liz?” he whispered, his voice hoarse and uncertain, as if he were speaking to a ghost.

And just like that, your blood turned to ice.

Liz. He called her Liz. Not Elizabeth, but Liz. A nickname, intimate and familiar, meant for someone important, someone special. Your chest constricted, the ache so sharp it felt like a blade pressing against your ribs.

No. No, that can’t be right. That’s not what this is. It can’t be.

“What... what are you doing here?” he asked, his tone soft in a way you’d never heard before. His voice, his words, carried a tenderness that twisted the knife in your chest.

She smiled again, tilting her head in a way that made her golden curls shimmer in the light. Her beauty was undeniable, ethereal, and you felt… small. Insecure.

“What... you’re not happy to see me?” she teased lightly, her voice lilting as she took a step closer.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” a voice interrupted, and you turned to see Kenji stepping forward. His sharp, formal demeanour was laced with tension as he bowed slightly. “I asked her to wait, but she insisted—”

“He’s not angry, Kenji,” she said, cutting him off mid-sentence. Her voice was sweet, yet there was an edge to it, like silk concealing a blade. She smiled, tilting her head slightly, her golden hair cascading over her shoulder as she turned her full attention to Jungkook. “You know I don’t like waiting.”

Her words, her presence, her unwavering focus on Jungkook—it all set your blood ablaze. Her sole fixation was Jungkook, as if the rest of the world had faded into the background. And him? He wasn’t saying a word.

Your heart twisted painfully as your gaze darted between the two of them. She stood too close, her delicate fingers brushing his arm as though it were second nature. He didn’t move, didn’t flinch, didn’t push her away.

Why isn’t he stopping her?

Your fists clenched at your sides as the fire in your chest burned hotter. Oh god, was this jealousy? You hated the way it crawled up your spine, the way it took root in the pit of your stomach and gnawed at your insides. No, you told yourself. She could just be a friend. People in their ranks always circle each other, allies forming alliances.

But friends didn’t touch like that. Friends didn’t stand so close that their breaths mingled.

And worst of all, Jungkook was staring at her—not with the cold detachment he reserved for most, not even with the exasperation he often directed at you. No, his eyes were soft, filled with tenderness and something far more dangerous: familiarity. Your throat tightened as you watched him, pale and nervous, disoriented even, yet still holding a quiet care in his gaze for her.

He had never looked at you like that.

The thought struck like a dagger to the heart. Had all his distance, all his resistance to you, been because of her? Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you fought to keep your composure. Maybe you were imagining things, reading too much into gestures and glances, but how could you not? You weren’t asking for much—just the attention, the care, the love that should have been yours. Instead, here she was, getting everything you never had.

The fire in your chest threatened to consume you. You wanted to scream, cry, claw at your skin to rid yourself of the jealousy coursing through your veins. But you didn’t. Instead, you stood there, fists clenched so tightly your nails bit into your palms, forcing yourself to remain still when every fibre of your being wanted to tear her away from him. “Who is she?” she asked, gesturing toward you with an air of casual interest. At her question, Jungkook visibly flinched. His face, already pale, drained of any remaining colour. His lips parted as though to respond, but no words came. He looked... trapped.

You met his eyes, silently pleading with him to speak, to say the words that would solidify your place in his life. Tell her, you thought. Tell her I’m your mate.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he looked away from her, his dark eyes locking onto Kenji. “Escort her back to her room,” Jungkook said, his voice cold and clipped.

You blinked, stunned by the sudden command.

Relief swept over you in a tidal wave. She was leaving. She would be gone.

A small, hesitant smile tugged at your lips as you dared to hope—just a little—that maybe you had been wrong. Maybe your insecurities had twisted something innocent into something sinister. You looked at Jungkook, your heart still heavy but softening.

He chose me, you told yourself, guilt creeping in for doubting him. I should trust my mate.

“Luna, let me escort you back to your quarters,” Kenji said, stepping toward you, his tone gentle but firm. His words slammed into you like a blow to the chest. The real meaning sank in, and it crushed you. He wasn’t sending her away. He was sending you.

“What?” Your voice came out shaky, barely above a whisper. You blinked at him, not trusting your ears.

Kenji’s eyes softened with guilt, but he didn’t back down. “Please,” he murmured, his voice low and almost pleading. Your gaze snapped to Jungkook, desperation bubbling up in your chest like a volcano ready to erupt. You wanted to march up to him, grab him by his collar, and demand answers. But the weight of it all—the confusion, the betrayal, the pain—was pressing down on you, making it hard to breathe.

“Luna?” Elizabeth’s soft, lilting voice broke through the tension like a knife. She turned to Jungkook, her brows furrowed in confusion, her lips parting slightly. “Why did he call her Luna, Jungkook?”

There it was—a flicker of panic in her otherwise composed demeanour. You caught it in her eyes, the way they widened for just a second before she masked it with feigned curiosity. Even Kenji froze at her question, his jaw tightening as though he’d been caught in a trap. You scanned their faces—Elizabeth’s curiosity, Kenji’s guilt, and Jungkook’s growing tension—and the pit in your stomach churned. They all knew something you didn’t.

“Liz!” Jungkook barked, his voice sharp but edged with something you couldn’t quite name. “We’ll talk in my quarters.” Before she could respond, he grabbed her wrist and started dragging with him. She stumbled slightly, clearly caught off guard, but she quickly regained her balance and pulled against his grip, wincing as though it hurt.

Your stomach clenched at the sight. She’s leaving. The thought should have brought relief, but it didn’t. Her gaze remained locked on you, her eyes swirling with emotions you couldn’t decipher—curiosity, jealousy, maybe even fear. And you? You couldn’t look away. You hated her, and it wasn’t just her beauty or elegance or the way she carried herself. It was something deeper, something primal.

“Luna,” Kenji said again, softer this time, and you turned to him instinctively. His expression was a careful mask of professionalism, but his eyes told a different story. They were apologetic, almost pleading.

“Please,” he said again, motioning for you to move.

For a moment, your feet refused to move, rooted to the ground by the storm of emotions raging inside you. All you wanted was to go to Jungkook, grab him, and demand answers—answers to this, to all the questions that haunted your sleepless nights. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Instead, you forced a tight, bitter smile onto your face and nodded at Kenji. You saw the flicker of recognition in his eyes; he knew how fake it was, but he didn’t call you out on it.

You turned on your heel, your heart heavy and aching, and started walking toward your quarters. Kenji followed closely behind, his presence like a shadow you couldn’t escape. With every step, your chest tightened, and your mind raced. You wanted to scream, to cry, to throw something, anything, to release the storm inside you. But all you did was keep walking, each step feeling heavier than the last. By the time you reached your room, your hands were trembling. You pushed the door open and stepped inside, your breath shaky as you tried to steady yourself.

Kenji paused in the doorway, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he bowed his head slightly. “Luna,” he said softly, and then he closed the door, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You stood there, staring at the closed door, your chest rising and falling as you struggled to hold yourself together.

You paced back and forth in your room, your bare feet padding against the cold floor. Your heart pounded in your chest, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. You needed answers, and you needed them now. Shina would come. She was the only one who might make sense of this mess. You rubbed your sweaty palms against your dress and exhaled shakily. The faint, sweet scent of honey wafted through the air, and your head snapped toward the door.

She was here.

You strode to the door, wrenching it open, only to find the hallway empty. The guards stood motionless, their eyes trained ahead. But the scent—it was unmistakable. It was her. Your nostrils flared as it grew stronger, as if pulling you toward something.

And then you saw her. Shina rounded the corner at the end of the hallway, her movements fluid, her hair catching the dim light. She smiled when her eyes landed on you, a warmth in her expression that only made your chest ache more. It hit you like a punch to the gut. You’d smelled her from that far away. A shiver crawled up your spine. That wasn’t normal. You were just a regular werewolf. How was this possible? God, it wasn't good.

“Were you… waiting for me, Bee?” Shina teased, her grin playful as she closed the distance between you. “Never thought you’d miss me this much.” The moment she was close enough, you grabbed her arm and pulled her into the room, shutting the door with a forceful thud.

“Whoa! What’s going on?” she asked, her brows knitting together as she scanned your face. She reached up to touch your forehead, her fingers cool against your heated skin. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t,” you muttered, swatting her hand away. Your voice was low, clipped. “I’m not some fragile thing, Shina. I don’t get sick.”

She tilted her head, studying you with sharp, calculating eyes. “You look off,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “You’re acting like it.”

“Ha! Funny,” you snapped, pacing away from her.

“Bee,” she called out, her voice softening. “You’re acting… strange. You look like you haven’t slept all night.” You spun around, your movements jerky, your hands clenched into fists at your sides.

“Oh, sure. Because it’s so easy to sleep these days.”

Shina sighed, her shoulders sagging as she shook her head. “You know you’re impossible to talk to when you’re like this.”

“Like what, Shina?” you shot back, your voice rising. “Go on. Say it.”

“Like you’re…” She hesitated, the words hanging in the air. Her lips pressed into a thin line before she exhaled sharply. “Like you’re miserable.”

The word hit you square in the chest, knocking the breath from your lungs. She wasn’t wrong. You were miserable. But hearing it said out loud—especially by her—only deepened the ache.

“What’s the issue, Bee?” she asked, her voice quieter now, her eyes searching yours.

“If you know me so well,” you bit out, crossing your arms over your chest, “guess.”

She raised a brow, unimpressed. “Guess? No thanks. You’re a little terrifying when you’re like this.”

“Shina!” you snapped, the word ripping from your throat before you could stop it.

“For God’s sake, Bee,” Shina said, exasperation seeping into her voice. Her arms fell to her sides, palms up in frustration. “If you’ve got something to say, just say it. Don’t make me stand here, tiptoeing on pins and needles. I can’t read minds, and I sure as hell don’t have a crystal ball.”

Your gaze flicked to her, your jaw tightening as you swallowed hard. The words clawed at your throat, but doubt tangled with them. Should you even bring this up? Should you ask about her? The small, stubborn voice in the back of your head whispered not to—that there could be a reasonable explanation for Elder Mathew’s daughter being here. Maybe she was a political guest, maybe she was just a friend, maybe Jungkook didn’t care about her presence. But the desperation simmering in your chest drowned out reason. You needed answers. Closure.

“Do you…” You hesitated, your voice barely audible as you forced yourself to meet her eyes. “Do you know that Elder Mathew’s daughter is here?”

Shina blinked at you, her expression neutral as she walked toward the window, turning her back to you. “Yes,” she said simply, her tone too casual. Your fists clenched. Why did everyone love staring out that damn window? It was as if they thought the glass could shield them from the weight of your questions.

“And?” you pressed, stepping toward her, every muscle in your body tensing.

“And what?” she said lightly, though you caught the slight hitch in her voice.

“Why is she here?”

“How would I know?” she replied with a forced laugh, but her faltering smile betrayed her.

“Don’t play games with me.” You strode forward and grabbed her arm, spinning her to face you. Your eyes burned into hers, demanding honesty. “You’re the beta female. Of course, you’d know.”

Her brows furrowed, and her lips parted as if to argue, but then she shot back, “And you’re the Luna, Bee.” Her words were sharp, cutting through the space between you. She inhaled deeply, her shoulders rising and falling as she steadied herself. “That… that doesn’t mean I have all the answers you want.”

“Doesn’t it?” Your grip on her arm tightened slightly before you let go, stepping back with a bitter laugh. “But Kian would know. He’s your mate.”

Her jaw tensed. “And what if he does?”

“Then you do too,” you said, your voice low, almost a growl.

“Fine!” Shina snapped, throwing her hands up. “I do. Now what?”

“Tell me!”

“I can’t!” she shouted, the frustration in her voice matching yours.

“Can’t or won’t?”

“This isn’t my choice, Bee!” she said, her voice cracking. Her eyes shimmered, her expression torn between guilt and helplessness. “I don’t have a choice here.”

“Shina, please,” you pleaded, the crack in your voice betraying the desperation you felt. “Patricia isn’t here—”

“She wouldn’t tell you either!” Shina interrupted, taking a step back, her gaze darting to the door as if she wanted to escape.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not my place to tell you, and you…” She paused, her breath catching. “You might not want to hear it.”

“But I need to hear it!” you snapped, your voice breaking as your hands trembled at your sides.

Shina sighed deeply, her shoulders sagging. “Please,” she whispered, her voice softening. “Don’t put me in this position.”

Your knees buckled slightly, and you gripped the edge of the table for support. “But, Shina… I need to know. If I don’t, it’s just this… ache that won’t go away.”

“I get that,” she said, her voice thick with sympathy. “But, Bee… if you really need answers, maybe… maybe it’s time you ask the one person who can give them to you.”

Her words hung in the air, pressing against your chest like a weight you couldn’t shake. She was right. You knew she was right. You and Jungkook needed to talk. But how? Every time you tried, it ended in a fight, his sharp words cutting deeper than he could ever know. You weren’t some emotionless being—his denial stung more than you could admit. And yet, despite everything, you were growing fond of him. The mate bond or not, your feelings for him were creeping in, uncontrollable and unrelenting. Shina’s voice broke the tense silence.

“Bee?” she called softly, her eyes searching yours.

You blinked at her, your breath hitching as the ache in your chest deepened.

“It will be alright,” she said, her voice soothing. “I’m certain of it. You don’t need to worry. It’s not what you’re thinking.”

Her confidence should have reassured you, but it didn’t. It only made you feel… empty. Because there was only one person whose words could soothe you now, and his never had.

None of you said anything for a long time, the silence hanging heavy in the air. You both just stood there, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. Her eyes never left yours, but you could see it—pity, guilt, and empathy swirling in them. Beneath it all, there was the unmistakable pull to escape. You could feel it in the way her shoulders tensed, in the way her eyes darted away for just a split second before locking with yours again. She didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to be put in the position you were putting her in.

But you weren’t going to press her anymore. There was something in her that told you it wasn’t the right time, that she was holding back for a reason. You didn’t want to make it worse. Maybe it was just easier to let her leave. You had your own questions now, and you would find answers another way. Jungkook could give them to you.

The next few hours dragged on in a haze of words you didn’t care to hear. Shina told you about Lycan history—bits and pieces you hadn’t known before. You’d heard of the first Lycan, the child of the moon goddess, who’d mated with humans, creating the werewolves. But what she told you was darker, heavier than that. How the first king had been executed for falling in love with a human. A king—dead, for something so simple. So heartbreaking.

But, despite your usual curiosity, you couldn’t focus on her words. They were just noise now. You could feel the pressure building in your chest, the knot tightening. You could see the way Shina looked at you—her eyes moist with unshed tears, a half-hearted smile twisting on her lips. It was like she was carrying the weight of a centuries-old tragedy.

“Guess tragedy follows all Lycan kings,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her gaze flicking away from yours as if the words were too much to face.

“Maybe…” You spoke absentmindedly, the words coming out flat, like they were from someone else’s mouth. “Maybe things could get better. One day.”

Shina’s smile faltered, and she shook her head, her lips pressing together. “He’s dead,” she said, the bitterness in her voice surprising you both.

“Huh? No. I—” you stammered, but then her expression shifted, a deep, resigned breath escaping her as she looked at you, the pain clear in her eyes.

“I think it’s time for me to leave,” she said, her voice steady but her hands trembling slightly as she reached for the door.

“Training?” you asked, though the word felt like it was too light, too hollow.

“Yeah,” she said, a nervous smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. She was already moving toward the door, her footsteps quick, as if she couldn’t wait to get away from the moment. “I’m leaving now. You rest.” She rushed out of the room, her shoulders stiff, and you just stood there, watching her go. The door clicked shut behind her with a finality that made your stomach drop.

You scoffed softly, frustration bubbling up inside you. Why the hell was she in such a rush to leave? It didn’t make sense. You stood there, your body frozen, a part of you wanting to go after her, to ask if you could come with her, to avoid having to face Jungkook. But deep down, you knew that was just an excuse. You both needed space—time apart. She was uncomfortable in your presence, and you were too bitter to feel anything but resentment.

But there was something more pressing than any of that. You needed to talk to him. And you couldn’t keep running from it.

You drew in a sharp breath, straightening your back with determination. The bitterness in your chest, the ache that had settled there ever since the night you came here, had to be dealt with. You had to know the truth. You weren’t going to hide from it anymore.

With a deep breath, you started walking toward the prince’s chamber. The hallway seemed endless as your feet moved on their own, each step heavier than the last. The closer you got, the tighter your chest felt. You didn’t know what would happen, but you knew you couldn’t back down now.

But as you reached the door to Jungkook’s chamber, something stopped you. Two guards stood in front of the door, their postures rigid. They didn’t even glance at you, but there was something in their stance that made it clear: you weren’t going in.

Your confusion mirrored on your face, your brows furrowing as you looked between the guards. Why weren’t you allowed in? You had been here before, not once but twice, and never had anyone stopped you. It wasn’t like they’d ever welcomed you, but they’d never blocked your way either. You glanced at the guards, silently asking them why they were forbidding you now. What had changed?

The taller one, the one who usually looked the least amused by your presence, met your eyes briefly. His gaze was unreadable, but his posture remained firm. Without a word, he subtly shook his head,

"His Majesty is currently engaged in vital matters, and we have strict orders not to let anyone in," one of the guards said, his voice calm, his stance stiff and unwavering. His expression was a wall of stone, giving nothing away. His words lingered in the air, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. Vital matters? The phrase gnawed at you, sending a ripple of unease down your spine.

You swallowed the knot that had suddenly formed in your throat and steadied your breath. "Could you please tell him I wish to speak with him?" You tried to keep your voice even, though there was a flicker of desperation hidden beneath. Surely, he would make time for you. You hoped he would.

"My apologies, but I can’t do that," the guard replied, his tone unyielding. He glanced toward the other guard before continuing, "I suggest you return at a later time, or we can inform His Majesty once he’s available." His words felt like a cold dismissal, a door slammed shut without even a hint of hesitation.

You nodded, though the movement was mechanical, like your body was on autopilot. You turned on your heel, ready to walk away, but then something tugged at you—an itch in your mind, a question you didn’t quite mean to ask. Before you could stop yourself, the words were out.

"Who is His Majesty with?"

The guards exchanged a brief glance, their eyes flashing with something unreadable. The taller one shifted his weight, his jaw tightening. There was a hesitation, a subtle shift in his stance, but he answered nonetheless. "Lady Elizabeth."

Your stomach twisted violently, and for a moment, everything in you froze. Lady Elizabeth? The words hit you like a slap, raw and unanticipated. The world around you blurred for a split second, your heartbeat hammering in your chest. You didn’t say anything. The silence that followed felt heavy, suffocating. Without a word, you turned away, your feet carrying you down the hallway, though you had no idea where you were going.

Your mind was a storm, a muddled hurricane of confusion and pain. Fear wrapped itself around your chest, squeezing, making it hard to breathe. There was a choking sensation in your throat, as though someone was gripping it, holding it tight. You didn’t know why, but the fear felt overwhelming, as if your very soul was suffocating. The words kept echoing in your mind: Lady Elizabeth...

You tried to push the feeling away, but it lingered, gnawing at you. The bitterness in your heart was now coupled with an ache so raw it almost felt physical. I don’t care. I don’t care who she is, you told yourself, but it was a lie. The truth was there, and you could feel it sinking in—your chest tight, your breath shallow. You weren’t sure where you were headed, but the corridors seemed unfamiliar, and yet somehow, you kept walking.

It was beautiful here—almost breathtaking. The walls were adorned with intricate designs, the colours soft and warm. But it was untidy, too. The air smelled strange, heavy with the scent of something that made your stomach churn. Testosterone. The sharp, overwhelming smell of unmated males, young and restless, filled the space, clinging to the air like smoke.

You took a few more steps, your feet dragging, as the feeling of being utterly lost gripped you tighter. Where am I? You glanced around, but the hallways were empty, no one in sight. The churning in your stomach intensified, an urgent voice in the back of your mind screaming at you to run. But… where? You didn’t know.

You stopped, standing in the middle of the corridor, your heart racing, trying to calm the madness inside you. Get it together. You can’t be lost. But the panic rose, clawing at your insides, tightening around your chest. You couldn’t breathe. The walls seemed to close in. The feeling of being trapped overwhelmed you.

"Luna?" A voice broke through the haze, sharp and clear. Footsteps followed—heavy, purposeful.

You whipped your head toward the sound, the relief flooding through you so quickly it made your knees weak. Kenji.

"What are you doing here, Luna?" Kenji's voice was sharp, his gaze sweeping over you, taking in every inch of your form. His brow furrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line, a clear sign of concern. His demeanour was exacting, shoulders squared, and his body instinctively positioned between you and the hallway.

"You shouldn’t be here," he added, his words firm, but there was something softer in his voice, like a silent plea for you to turn back.

You understood his concern. This part of the palace was different from the calm halls you were used to. The air was thick, soaked with the sharp, unmistakable scent of young wolves—uncontrolled, brimming with energy, their scent strong and raw. You could smell it yourself, a thick, musky mix of testosterone and unease. You didn’t need to ask him. It was clear.

The juvenile Lycans, especially the young males, were unpredictable. Their tempers were short, and their instincts fierce. Aggression simmered beneath the surface, barely contained, and it only took the slightest provocation to unleash it. These boys weren’t just troublesome—they were a force of nature, unpredictable and dangerous in ways you had never experienced before.

"I… I lost my way," you whispered, your voice faltering slightly as you tried to steady yourself.

"Come," he murmured, his voice low but reassuring, pulling you from your thoughts.

You looked at him, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, though it felt small compared to the heaviness in the air. "Kenji?"

"Yes, Luna!" His eyes widened, his expression softening when he caught the lightness in your tone. He seemed almost flustered by your smile, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction as he glanced down at you. There was something undeniably endearing about him—his loyalty, his protective nature—and in that moment, it felt like a warmth in the cold.

"Why does this place look… like a storm passed through it?" you asked, your voice still soft, though now filled with curiosity. You couldn’t help but notice the mess—furniture slightly askew, papers scattered.

Kenji’s gaze flicked toward the mess, his face tightening slightly. He didn’t seem surprised by your question, though he didn’t look thrilled either. "Young He-Lycans stay here. It’s their den," he said flatly, offering nothing more. The way he said it made it clear that there was no need to explain further—like the messy state of the room was simply part of the process.

You nodded slowly, understanding the unstated truth. But you couldn’t help but feel the sharpness of the atmosphere pressing in on you. The wildness of the young wolves felt tangible in the way the space seemed to pulse with energy, like the storm Kenji had mentioned was never quite over.

"Where are we going, Kenji?" you asked, looking up at him, the unease still gnawing at you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Kenji halted in his tracks for a moment, as if your question had caught him off guard. His eyes widened slightly, and his lips parted, like he was struggling to find the right words. There was a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze, but it was quickly replaced with a firm resolve. "To your quarters," he said, his voice steady but with an undertone of something softer—something protective.

"I… do-don't want to go there," you whispered, your voice small and uncertain, a nervous tug in your chest. The thought of returning to your room, alone in the quiet, filled you with dismay. You felt trapped in a place where you didn’t belong, surrounded by no one but void. The weight of loneliness pressed against you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to face it.

Kenji paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you, his lips parting as if he were about to say something. "What?" he asked, his voice gentle, but there was a flicker of concern in his gaze.

"Where were you headed, Kenji?" you asked, the words escaping before you could stop them. You needed something to focus on, something to distract you from the heaviness in your chest.

He shifted, his expression thoughtful for a brief moment before he spoke. "The stables," he murmured, almost to himself. The way he said it was so casual, but not to you.

"Horses?" you asked, your eyes widening, the excitement bubbling up inside you. A smile stretched across your face, wide and genuine. "I didn’t even know Jungkook kept horses."

Kenji’s eyes flicked to you, his posture hardening for a brief second. "They’re mine," he said matter-of-factly, his voice holding a hint of delight.

"Oh!" was all you could manage to say, the excitement racing through your veins. It was a small thing, but it felt like a chance at freedom, at doing something outside of the suffocating walls of the palace.

"May I come with you?" The words slipped out before you could second-guess them, the thought of the horses too tempting to ignore. You could feel your heart quicken, and your hands twisted together nervously, but the smile that pulled at your lips wouldn’t fade.

Kenji hesitated, his eyes flickering from you to the hallway ahead, as if weighing the consequences. His brow furrowed slightly, and for a moment, you thought he might say no. But then he looked at you again, his gaze softening. It wasn’t much, but there was something there—a flicker of understanding, of empathy.

"Please. Please, please, please, Kenji," you pressed, your voice pleading now. You felt the excitement bubbling up like an unstoppable force, your body leaning forward, almost daring him to turn you down.

Kenji looked torn, his lips pressing together in a thin line as if he were still unsure, still unsure of you, of whether it was a good idea. But after what felt like an eternity, he finally relented, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course, Luna. But… don't tell no one," he said, his expression still a mixture of caution and something softer—something you couldn’t quite place. His eyes flicked over you, as if trying to make sense of the sudden shift in your demeanour. You caught the wariness in his gaze, like he was watching you closely, waiting for something.

But you were too excited to care. You barely registered the way his eyes lingered on you or the tension in his posture. All you could focus on was the idea of the horses, of getting away from everything for a moment. You followed him through the palace. The hallways twisted and turned, unfamiliar and confusing, but Kenji moved with ease, guiding you through the maze.

Finally, you stepped out into the fresh air, the weight of the palace behind you. The cold breeze brushed against your face, and for a brief moment, it felt like a release. The stables were just ahead, the smell of hay and earth filling the air, mixing with the scent of the horses you could already hear shifting inside.

"It’s... small," you said, your eyes scanning the stables, and you couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled in your chest. Kenji shot you a look, a silent question in his eyes—Are you being serious right now?

You smiled at him sweetly, shrugging it off as if it were nothing.

"I only have two horses!" he responded, sounding a bit defensive. The way he said it made it clear that he had his reasons for the small stable, though you weren’t sure what they were.

"Oh!" was all you could muster, though the realization didn’t seem to change your excitement.

"Yeah!" Kenji added, a slight tilt of his head as he looked you up and down. There was something playful in his gaze, but it was too forced—like he was trying to be sassy but failing miserably. The awkwardness made you chuckle quietly, and it was almost endearing.

You both walked further into the stable, the scent of hay and earth filling your nose, when you saw them—two stunning horses. One was sleek and jet black, while the other was a rich, deep brown. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight. The black one was breathtaking. His coat shimmered in the light, and his eyes seemed to pierce through you. You took a step forward without thinking, your hand reaching out, eager to feel the smoothness of his coat beneath your fingertips.

But as you moved closer, the horse bared its teeth and snorted, a high pitched squeal rumbling from deep within its chest. You froze, instinctively pulling back as your heart leapt into your throat. Kenji was at your side in an instant, his hand gently grasping your elbow, guiding you away from the horse.

"Luna?" he whispered urgently, his voice low but with an edge of concern. You turned to face him, your heart still pounding in your chest. His gaze was soft but grave, and there was a hint of disbelief in his eyes. "Why…?" he asked, almost as if he were trying to understand.

"I—I just wanted to touch him," you stammered, your face flushing with embarrassment.

Kenji raised an eyebrow, his lips twisting in an almost disbelieving smile. "He’s wild."

"Well, you might have told me that sooner!" you snapped, the frustration of your failure making your words sharper than you intended. You crossed your arms defensively, but your eyes were still on the black horse, who was now eyeing you warily from the corner.

"Couldn’t you tell?" Kenji’s tone was soft but teasing, as though he couldn’t believe you didn’t sense the danger.

"I got excited!" you huffed, unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips despite the situation. You were embarrassed, yes, but you couldn’t help the rush of excitement you had felt. The adrenaline from the near encounter still buzzed in your chest.

Kenji shook his head, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. "He’s dangerous," he said, his voice firm, but there was a gentle amusement in his tone, as though he were trying to ease your fluster.

"Fine, I got it!" you said quickly, brushing it off with a small laugh. You were still processing the intensity of the moment, but Kenji wasn’t giving you time to linger.

"Go, try on that one. He’s gentler." Kenji gestured toward the brown horse with a wave of his hand, as if to shoo you away from the black one.

You walked cautiously toward the brown horse, whose calm eyes met yours without hostility. His coat was soft and warm under your touch, and as you stood beside him, he nuzzled you gently. The feeling of his breath against your skin was soothing. You couldn’t help but smile, a contented sigh escaping your lips as your fingers ran over his mane.

It had been days since you had been outside like this, away from the walls of the palace. Sure, you had gone shopping, but it wasn’t the same. Being here, in the fresh air with the horses, felt more like freedom than anything you had experienced in a long time.

The open blue sky stretched above you, dotted with soft clouds, and the sun was starting to dip below the horizon, casting a golden glow over everything. The cold breeze ruffled your hair, and the mud squelched beneath your bare feet as you shifted your weight. It felt so real, so grounding, like a connection to something wild and untamed. Even though you were still inside the palace walls, it was the closest you had felt to truly being outside. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the peacefulness of the moment wash over you.

Kenji and you had spent quite some time in the stables, feeding the horses and talking, the tension from the palace slowly ebbing away. But now, as you walked back toward the imposing walls of the palace, that sense of ease seemed to slip through your fingers like sand. You felt relaxed, yes, but that weight of confinement pressed back against your chest as the palace loomed closer.

Kenji escorted you to your room, but stopped just outside, as if unsure whether to enter. His hesitation was clear, but you didn’t push him. You simply nodded, grateful for the brief escape. The door clicked shut behind you, and as the silence settled, you couldn't help but feel the shift in your own mood. The familiar heaviness of your room creeping back in.

You walked across the room, your footsteps soft against the floor, and sat in the same chair Patricia always claimed when she visited—just beside the window. You couldn’t help but gaze outside, the familiar view stretching out before you. The setting sun painted the sky in rich purples and fiery oranges, the light so soft it felt almost like a dream. It should have been beautiful, and it was—but it also tugged at something inside you. A hollow ache in your chest that you couldn’t ignore.

For the first time, you realized how truly trapped you felt here. You weren’t a prisoner, exactly, but now you understood the full weight of what it meant to be stuck. You missed the small things. The people. The pack. The freedom you used to have. The flying birds in the distance, the shifting clouds, the pack members wandering without a care in the world—they were free. You were not.

You wanted to shake it off, to push the emotion down, but it swelled within you, a sadness that tightened your throat and clouded your thoughts. Why hadn’t I appreciated my old life more? you wondered, a lump rising in your throat. Your pack, your life—it was messy, chaotic, sure, and you had felt alone, maybe even hated by some. But back then, there was a freedom to it. It was yours, even if no one else understood or cared. You were free, and you had hope, however small it seemed. And now… now everything was out of your control.

"Do Patricia feel the same?" you muttered to yourself, barely aware of the question slipping from your lips. You didn’t expect an answer, but it hung there, thick in the air, a reminder of how alone you felt. Maybe you were being dramatic, maybe emotional, but right now, the melancholy crept so deep inside you, painting everything around you a dull blue.

The quiet only made it worse. The silence in your room was thunderous, overwhelming. Peace? Peace was the one thing you had never been able to hold onto in your life. It had always been about chaos. Your entire existence had been a swirl of turmoil and now, even here, it felt no different. Then, as if the universe had decided you hadn’t been suffering enough, the door creaked open. You didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

Jungkook.

The Lycan king. The one who had made everything in your life more complicated than it needed to be. If it had been any other time, you might’ve been relieved—or maybe you would’ve felt excitement at his presence. But not now. Not tonight. Tonight, you had found a sliver of calm, and now it was slipping through your fingers as he entered the room, his steps slow and measured, like a predator stalking its prey.

Your gaze didn’t shift from the window, though you felt his presence fill the room, heavy and undeniable. The tension in the air thickened, and your pulse quickened. Were you mad at him? Maybe. Did you want to talk? Not really. Did you want him here, standing in your room? Absolutely not.

But there he was, unmistakable, his presence overwhelming. You could smell the faint traces of the stables on yourself, and it made you wonder—Did he know I was there? His eyes flickered to you, and then to the window where you had been gazing out.

You didn’t move. You didn’t even look at him, though you could feel his eyes on you, reading you like a book. His gaze was soft, but his body language? It was tense. His stance was too demanding for someone who had walked in so casually. You could sense his discomfort, his awareness of your silence. But you didn’t say anything.

You were tired of talking, of pretending. You just wanted a moment to breathe, a moment of quiet that was yours. Even if only for a few more minutes.

Without a word, he moved to sit on the edge of your bed, his movements slow and deliberate, as though he were afraid to spook you. You smirked at him, shaking your head, the bitterness in your expression cutting sharper than words. He stilled, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. It was clear he didn’t like it.

“I heard you insisted on seeing me,” he said softly, his voice smooth but probing, his gaze steady as he studied your face. The words fell from his lips so gently it took you a moment to realize he was actually speaking to you.

“Yes, I did,” you replied, barely looking up. Your voice was small, quiet, almost drowned out by the heavy silence in the room. “But… you were busy.”

“Busy or not, I’m here now.” His tone was firm, but there was a hint of something else beneath it—an attempt at reassurance. “I came as soon as I could.”

“How very gracious of you,” you replied, a faint, hollow laugh escaping before you could stop it. “Finally, I’m worth a fraction of your time. I suppose I should be honoured, Your Majesty.” The sarcasm in your voice was biting, but it wasn’t enough to mask the pain underneath.

His lips pressed into a thin line, his poise undaunted. “Must we do this?” he murmured, his voice low and steady, though his eyes flickered with something—annoyance, perhaps. “Is there a reason for this tone?”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” you said, the title dripping with venom. You straightened in your chair, meeting his gaze with a cold, practiced civility. “I wouldn’t want to waste your time with my… petty concerns.”

His jaw tightened for a brief moment before he exhaled sharply. “I’ve told you—call me by my name.”

You tilted your head slightly, your brittle smile more painful than any scream could’ve been. “But why should I? That’s all I am to you, isn’t it?” Your voice cracked, barely a whisper. “Another subject. Another burden.”

Something in him shifted. His shoulders tensed, and his eyes flickered with an emotion he didn’t bother to hide. He flinched, but the rest of his face was unreadable as he looked away.

“What is it that troubles you?” he asked finally, his voice softer now, hesitant. It was like a hand reaching out but not quite daring to touch. His eyes searched yours, tender and careful, and for a moment, it made your heart stutter. It almost felt real.

“Nothing that I’d burden Your Majesty with,” you replied, though the lump in your throat begged you to say more. You looked away, unable to face him any longer, unable to let him see the tears threatening to spill.

He sat in silence for a moment, the tension between you thick and unbearable. Then he stood, moving toward you with slow, deliberate steps. You watched him, unable to look away, your body betraying you even as your mind screamed at you to turn your head.

And then, he did something you never expected.

He knelt.

Right in front of you.

Your eyes widened, and for a moment, the air left your lungs. His sudden vulnerability caught you off guard, and you weren’t sure if it terrified you or pulled you deeper into his orbit. A soft, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his lips—a rare sight, one you hadn’t seen before. It made your heart trip over itself.

“Is this about yesterday?” he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper. The words were so soft, yet they hit you with the force of a storm.

Your expression shifted, hardening as you quickly looked away. You wanted to scream at him, to tell him that yes, it was about yesterday, but it wasn’t just that. It was everything. Elizabeth. The loneliness. The weight of being here. But instead, you said nothing. Silence wrapped around you like a shield, protecting you from saying too much.

He sighed, and before you could pull away, his hands reached out to gently take yours. His grip was firm yet tender, and the touch sent warmth flooding through your chest, filling the cracks you’d been trying so hard to hide. Butterflies? No. This was more. It was as if a whole zoo had come alive in your stomach.

“I didn’t know you were there,” he whispered, his voice soft but resolute.

“It doesn’t change much,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. The words stung, but they were true. It didn’t change the fact that he didn’t want you—not really. You couldn’t ignore the nagging thought that this care, this attention, wasn’t because of him, but because of the mate bond. It was forced. Not real.

"I know, I hurt—"

"Oh, you don’t," you cut him off, the words sharp and bitter. "You think you do, but you don’t know how it feels."

You broke the fragile moment, the one you hadn’t even fully tasted before it slipped away.

You pulled your hand from his, the coldness of the empty space between you settling deeper than you expected. He reached for you again, but you flinched back, shaking your head, unable to let him touch you anymore.

His eyes darkened, a flicker of frustration and hurt crossing his face. “why..? You’re being dramatic.”

“Dramatic?” You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head as the hurt bubbled to the surface. “That’s what you call it?” The words burned as they left your lips, raw and unfiltered. “You’ve locked me out so many times, made it painfully clear that I mean nothing to you. I’ve stood by, waiting for something—anything—that might make you see me. But every glance you throw my way feels like a dismissal, like I’m nothing more than a burden you can’t shake. I’ve tried to be strong, tried to hold on to whatever scraps of love you’re willing to give, but it’s never enough, is it? So why am I still here? Why do you keep me close if I’m just a reminder of something you don’t want? I don’t understand. If I mean so little to you, if I’m nothing more than a weight dragging you down, then why can’t you just… Reject me?”

For a moment, his expression hardened, something sharp flashing in his eyes—a warning, a challenge. But then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by something darker. He stood, towering over you, his presence as commanding as ever. “Because you’re mine,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl.

The words hit you like a blow. “Yours?” you echoed, your voice cracking as you stood, trembling under the weight of everything you had been holding in. Your chest tightened, your hands clenching into fists at your sides. “You don’t get to claim me when it’s convenient. I’m not a possession you can put on a shelf, to keep or discard as you like.” You took a step closer, your eyes boring into his, hot tears stinging the corners of your vision. “I’m just a fixture here, aren’t I? Bound to you, but always kept at a distance. Never to be seen, never to be named.”

You forced a shaky breath, but it caught in your throat. “And then you left me in the hallway and leave with her,” you spat, voice quivering with hurt, “and I’m supposed to just sit here, waiting, smiling… pretending that it doesn’t rip me apart.” Your hands flew to your temples as if trying to physically hold yourself together, but you couldn’t stop the flood of words pouring out.

His expression barely shifted, his face a mask of unreadable calm. It infuriated you. “Is it about Elizabeth?” he asked, his tone soft, almost placating, but there was no fire, no urgency—nothing close to what you wanted from him.

“Yes. No,” you snapped, the contradictions tearing at you. Your voice grew louder, more erratic. “It’s not just her—it’s everything! It’s you, Jungkook. You keep me in the dark and expect me to just… endure it.”

“She means nothing,” he said, taking a step closer, his voice dropping into something softer, almost tender. His words made you falter, a spark of relief flickering deep in your chest. But it wasn’t enough—not anymore. If she meant nothing, then why had he left you standing there? Why hadn’t he pushed her away? And why was she even here?

“Nothing?” you echoed, a bitter laugh slipping past your lips. “If she’s nothing, then why won’t you tell me the truth? Why won’t you just let me in?” You crossed your arms over your chest, turning away from him as a fresh wave of doubt and pain coursed through you.

The accusation hung in the air like a dagger. His jaw tightened, and for the first time, his carefully guarded mask cracked. His hands clenched at his sides, and his gaze darkened as he took another step closer. "You won't understand and I can't make you"

"Then, it's your chance. Make me understand."

His lips parted, but no words came out. His shoulders sagged, his head dipping slightly as if he couldn’t meet your gaze. “I told you before,” he finally said, his voice so soft it was almost drowned out by the silence. “I’m not capable of love.”

The words shattered something in you. You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and pained. “Not capable of love?” you repeated,

“Not capable… or just not willing?” you demanded, stepping closer to him. Your voice rose but stayed fragile, trembling under the weight of your emotions. “It’s easier, isn’t it? To hide behind your walls, to pretend you’re somehow unfeeling, while I stand here breaking myself for you? I’m hurting, Jungkook, and you’re the reason why. Can’t you see that?”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened as he turned his head, refusing to meet your eyes. His hands hung stiffly by his sides, clenched so tightly you could see the veins on the back of his hands. “You don’t know me as well as you think,” he muttered, voice low and cold.

You laughed bitterly, a hollow sound that cracked in the air. “Then tell me!” you said, your voice breaking with desperation. You took another step toward him, your hands trembling at your sides. “Tell me what it is I don’t know. Tell me why you pull me close one moment and push me away the next. Tell me why I’m here at all if you feel nothing.” Your chest heaved with the effort of holding yourself together, but the dam had already broken. “Tell me why you’d rather leave me in agony than set me free,” you said, your voice quieter now, trembling with raw emotion.

“Enough,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked down, the usual sharpness in his gaze dulled, his shoulders tense but sagging under invisible weight. “Stop… please.”

Your heart clenched at the crack in his voice, but you pushed past it. “No,” you said firmly, shaking your head, the tears in your eyes blurring his figure. “You don’t get to silence me now.” You forced yourself to hold his gaze, even as your vision swam. Hot tears spilled over, streaking your cheeks, but you didn’t look away. “Why don’t you let me go, Jungkook? Why do you make me stay, to suffer, if there’s nothing here for me?”

Your voice faltered, a sob catching in your throat. “Why am I here? Why can’t you just… let me go?” The words came out barely audible, your hands lifting helplessly before falling back to your sides.

He stepped toward you, closing the distance. His dark eyes locked onto yours with a fiery intensity, his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. “I won’t let you leave,” he said finally, his voice low and rough, like a vow etched in stone.

You stared at him, searching his face for something—anything—that could explain the torment in his eyes. “You won’t… or you can’t?” you shot back, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and despair. You felt like you were unravelling, your heart splintering with every second that passed. “Tell me, Jungkook—if it’s not love, then what is it? Pride? Control? What do you want from me? Why should I stay?”

His breathing quickened, his chest rising and falling with restrained intensity. For a moment, he just looked at you, his expression unreadable but his eyes burning with something raw, something untamed. “You’ll stay,” he said at last, his voice soft but laced with possession. His hand reached out as if to touch you but stopped midair, his fingers curling into a fist. “You know that as well as I do.”

You shook your head, a bitter laugh breaking free from your throat. It wasn’t humorous—it was hollow, aching, raw. “So you’ll just keep me here, then? Trapped, waiting, while you go on pretending I don’t exist?” Your voice cracked, the pain slipping through despite your best efforts to hide it. You clenched your fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as if the sting would ground you.

“Don’t,” he warned, his voice low and sharp, but there was something underneath—something fragile, barely masked. His hands were trembling, ever so slightly, his fingers twitching as if unsure whether to reach for you or stay where they were.

“Don’t what?” you whispered, your voice shaking like the fragile thread you clung to. You took a step closer, daring him to look at you. “Don’t leave? Don’t walk away from this mess?” Your chest heaved as your words tumbled out, the crack in your voice betraying you. “Tell me, Jungkook, how am I supposed to keep holding on when you’ve given me nothing to hold on to?”

For a fleeting moment, something crossed his face—a shadow of regret, or maybe pain—but it vanished so quickly you weren’t even sure it had been there. His jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I never asked you to hold on,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. His gaze flicked away, but the weight of his words hit you like a blow. You scoffed, shaking your head as the pain spilled over, raw and cutting.

“No. You just kept me close enough to stay under your thumb,” you said, stepping back. Your arms wrapped around yourself, a futile attempt to hold yourself together. “Close enough to keep me hoping, waiting… praying that one day you’d look at me and finally see me.”

His head snapped up, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. His expression hardened, sharp and unyielding. “And you think leaving will change that?” His voice was low, almost dangerous, and he took a step toward you, his presence overwhelming.

“I think,” you said, your voice trembling but steady enough to make your point, “that maybe it’s the only way I’ll be free.” Your throat tightened, but you forced the words out. “If I walk away, at least the pain might stop.”

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—fear, maybe—but it was gone just as quickly, replaced by a fierce, unrelenting glare. He took another step closer, towering over you now. “No. You’re not going anywhere,” he said, his voice as sharp as a blade.

His words pressed down on you, suffocating, leaving no room to breathe. The silence stretched between you, heavy and unbearable.

“And what exactly am I supposed to do, then?” Your voice broke, soft and raw, the question barely louder than a whisper. “Just stay here… loving you, hating you, breaking for you… until there’s nothing left of me?”

His expression wavered, just for a moment—his brows furrowed, his lips parting slightly as if to speak. But he said nothing. Instead, he stood there, watching you, his hand reached out pulling you closer from your wrist. You saw it then—the way his eyes lingered, desperate and longing, but something refused to let him reach for you.

“You’ll stay,” he said finally, his voice quieter but no less firm. It was softer now, but the possessiveness in it sent a shiver down your spine. “Because you’re mine. No one else’s. And you’ll never escape me. Not like this.”

He stepped back abruptly, releasing your wrist with a sharp, angry motion. You barely had time to process the emptiness his touch left before he turned on his heel. The door slammed shut behind him with such force that the sound rattled through your bones, echoing in the now-silent room.

You stood there, frozen in place, staring at the closed door as if it held all the answers you’d never get. Your heart pounded against your ribcage, each beat louder than the last. When you finally moved, it was slow, heavy, as if each step dragged you deeper into the void.

“And if I’m yours,” you muttered under your breath, your voice barely audible even to yourself, “then why am I always alone?”

Your legs carried you back to the chair by the window. You sank into it, folding your legs beneath you as you gazed out at the world. The sky was dark, the faint outline of the moon barely visible through the haze. You sat there, unmoving, staring out as if the answers lay somewhere beyond the horizon.

But no tears came. Not tonight. You didn’t have any left.

Time slipped by unnoticed. You didn’t know how long you sat there until the soft knock on the door startled you. The maid stepped in, hesitant, her hands clasped in front of her. A short while later, a tray of food appeared in your room, placed on the table without a word.

You ate mechanically, the food tasteless on your tongue. Each bite felt like an obligation, a necessity to keep going. When the plate was empty, you set it aside, lying down on the bed with a heaviness in your chest you couldn’t name. The ache in your ribs burned—not sharp, but slow and deliberate, like embers soldering beneath your skin. It had no name, no essence, only a relentless existence that refused to be ignored. You closed your eyes, the feeling sinking deeper as sleep pulled you under—a restless, empty escape.

The next morning, you woke with a heaviness lodged deep in your chest, a weight that refused to be ignored. It sat there, unmoving, like a stone pressing against your ribs. With a deep sigh, you pushed yourself up and trudged to the bathroom, your feet dragging against the cold floor. The mirror reflected a face you barely recognized—eyes dull, lips pressed into a flat line, exhaustion etched into every line and curve.

Late again. Well, late by their standards. You weren’t entirely behind schedule; it was just that this place seemed to move at a pace faster than you could keep up with.

Breakfast. You knew it was time. You hurried through your routine, splashing cold water on your face as if it could wash away the lingering fog in your mind. Not today. You weren’t going to let him or his damn thoughts weigh you down. That selfish, arrogant piece of a so-called king could go to hell for all you cared. He didn’t want to open up, didn’t want to tell you what was going on between him and Elizabeth. And he definitely didn’t want you anywhere but locked up in this suffocating prison he called a castle.

And… Screw him.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, the clock on the wall taunted you with its ticking, but you ignored it and made your way out of your quarters, heading toward the dining hall.

The atmosphere shifted the moment you walked in. All heads turned briefly before snapping back to their plates, except for two. You clenched your jaw, your heart thudding as you felt their gazes on you.

You moved to your usual seat beside Jungkook, your footsteps firm despite the tension coiling in your stomach. His presence radiated heat, and you could feel his gaze burning into the side of your face before you even sat down. The maids moved quickly, placing plates of food before you, the clinking of dishes breaking the otherwise suffocating silence.

You picked up your fork, stabbing at the food, but the hunger you’d felt earlier had evaporated. The air was choking you, and your thoughts were wild, scraping at the edges of your sanity like claws on stone. It felt like something was peeling your insides, slow and deliberate, leaving you raw and exposed.

You could feel his stare—intense, possessive, and utterly suffocating. It was rare for him to look at you like this, but it wasn’t entirely unexpected. His wolf wanted you, even if he didn’t. His body would always be drawn to you, no matter how much he tried to resist. You could justify his gaze, explain it away as instinct, nothing more.

But her.

Elizabeth’s stare was another matter entirely. Her gaze lingered, sharp and probing, cutting through the room’s heavy air like a blade. It settled on you, unwavering, making your skin prickle and your breath hitch.

Why was she staring?

The question gnawed at you, but you couldn’t find an answer. Her gaze was too much, too piercing, and it made you acutely aware of yourself—of the way your fingers gripped the fork too tightly, of the way your shoulders tensed as if bracing for an attack.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to focus on the plate in front of you, but the food blurred as your thoughts spiralled. Her stare burned into you, more than curious, more than observant—it was deliberate, calculated, like she knew something you didn’t.

You shifted in your seat, your knee brushing against Jungkook’s under the table. He stiffened, his gaze snapping back to his plate, but the tension in his body didn’t ease. His fingers tightened around his knife, his knuckles white, as though he was barely holding something back.

The silence was unbearable. The clatter of utensils and the soft murmur of others around the table felt distant, muted, as if you were trapped under a glass dome with only the two of them—him and her—bearing down on you.

But the bigger question—the one gnawing at you like a relentless itch—was why the hell was she still here? Elizabeth’s presence was a thorn lodged in your side, a reminder of every unanswered question and every hollow excuse Jungkook had thrown your way.

“You’re not eating anything.”

Ah, the devil himself had finally chosen to speak. His voice, low and measured, cut through the suffocating silence like a blade. Your fingers froze mid-motion, the fork in your hand hovering above the untouched food. Slowly, you lifted your gaze to meet his.

Jungkook was watching you, his dark eyes simmering with something unspoken—guilt, worry, or maybe a cruel mix of both. But you couldn’t be sure. You were never sure with him. Jungkook was an enigma wrapped in barbed wire—rarely kind, always distant, and painfully unpredictable.

Sometimes, he made you feel like he cared, like there was a sliver of hope buried in the chaos of your bond. Almost. But the illusion always shattered, leaving you with sharp words and deeper wounds. His sweetness twisted in your gut now, bitter and hollow.

Your chest tightened. The urge to speak burned in your throat—to lash out, scream, mock him until he felt the same raw, aching void he’d left in you. You wanted to hurt him, to make him feel heartbroken, alone, unworthy, unlovable.

But you couldn’t.

Your fingers curled tightly around the fork, knuckles white as you swallowed the anger and heartbreak clawing its way up. Instead, you stared at him, your throat thick and eyes glassy, the tears threatening to spill but refusing to fall. No, not anymore.

“I’m not hungry,” you muttered, your voice soft but firm, every bitter word swallowed and dead in your chest.

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice dropped lower, tinged with something almost pleading. “I can feel it.”

Your chest constricted, your jaw tightening. Of course, he’d pull the mate bond card now. Of course, when it suited him.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asked, his tone cautious but probing, as if he wasn’t sure how close to the edge you were.

You let out a humourless laugh, the sound sharp and brittle. Slowly, you set the fork down, your movements deliberate as you finally looked up at him. The sarcasm rolled off your tongue, bitter and cutting. “Perfectly,” you said, your lips twisting into a tight smile. “With the graciousness your Majesty has shown me, how could I be anything but?”

The words hit home. You saw it in the way his shoulders stiffened, his jaw tightening. His gaze faltered for a moment, as if the truth of your words had knocked the air out of him.

Good. Let him feel it.

You leaned back slightly, your arms crossing over your chest as you held his gaze, your own eyes sharp and unrelenting. For a second, his mask cracked. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but no words came.

"I…" Jungkook stammered, his voice breaking the thick tension that hung in the air. But honestly? You weren’t interested. Not until he finally acknowledged you as his mate and kicked Elizabeth out of the picture. You knew, deep down, that he told you she meant nothing—but you didn’t believe him. If she meant nothing, then why hadn’t he told her you were his mate when she asked? Why take her somewhere private and leave you alone?

"I… am sorry."

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. Did he just apologize to you? Jungkook never apologized. He was the Lycan king. Apologies were beneath him, or so you thought. Sure, the night before he’d knelt before you, but that had been a moment of private vulnerability—raw, between just the two of you. It felt like something personal, something for mates. But this? Apologizing in front of so many people? It felt different. Public. It made everything real in a way you hadn’t prepared for.

You sat there, frozen, as the shock washed over you. You never knew Jungkook could do something like this. To you, he had always been distant, proud, untouchable. To see him apologize so openly, to show this kind of humility in front of everyone—that was something you had never imagined.

Kian almost choked on his tea, and Shina quickly patted his back, trying to calm him. Even Neil sat there, wide-eyed, dumbfounded. You could barely process the scene unfolding in front of you. Was this real? Was he really saying sorry?

“I never meant to��”

“Junk—” Elizabeth’s voice sliced through the air, cutting him off. Her hand landed on his bicep, the soft pressure of her fingers an all-too-familiar gesture. She was trying to stop him, trying to shield him from the embarrassment she thought he was suffering. You hated it. You hated her for it. You hated that she had the right to touch him. You’d barely ever touched his biceps, and you were his mate.

“Not now, Liz.” Jungkook hissed, his voice low, laced with annoyance.

A sickening wave of satisfaction washed over you. You couldn’t help it. Watching Elizabeth falter, her hand still on his arm, left you with a twisted sense of pleasure. It wasn’t that you wanted her to suffer, but for once, she was the one who was embarrassed, not you. And it felt good.

Maybe… maybe there was still hope. A maybe you weren’t sure you could trust, but it was something. The “what ifs” flooded your mind. You couldn’t stop yourself from hoping, but deep down, you were afraid to. You had too many “maybes” in your life already. Your mind told you to have faith, but your heart screamed that he didn’t care. And for now, you wouldn’t give him the chance to prove you wrong.

Jungkook didn’t finish his sentence. And neither you nor anyone else spoke a word. The table grew quiet as everyone awkwardly shifted, unsure what to say next.

You timidly picked at your food, your appetite lost to the storm of thoughts swirling in your mind. Jungkook’s gaze never left you. You could feel the weight of it, pressing against your skin like a hand on your chest. He wanted to speak. You could feel it in the air. But why should you care? He was so reluctant to even acknowledge you as his mate. Let him stew in his silence. You didn’t need him to say anything.

You stood up, brushing past him without a second glance. Every part of you wanted to scream, to shout at him for making you feel so small, but you swallowed it down. You weren’t going to let him see how much his lack of effort had hurt you.

You walked back to your room, the space around you growing colder with every step. The silence in the hall was deafening, only broken by the echo of your footsteps. You didn’t wait for anyone. You couldn’t. The emotional drain weighed too heavily on you. He was the one who had caused it, but maybe you were to blame too. You had expected too much from someone who wasn’t even willing to do the bare minimum.

As you reached your room, you collapsed onto the bed. Your body felt heavy, your heart aching with exhaustion. The weight of the day, of the constant tension, pulled you under. You didn’t want to cry anymore, but you had nothing left. You’d given everything to someone who wouldn’t even meet you halfway. Your hands curled into fists at your sides, your breathing shallow and ragged.

Get over it. The voice in your head was sharp, relentless. But your heart wasn’t ready. How could it be? How could you keep going when all you wanted was for him to just see you? For once. Just once.

You thought it would be a good idea to wander around the palace, especially since Shina had told you she wouldn’t be available today due to pack business. Everyone seemed busy, but you didn’t seem to have anything to do. You hadn't shifted in days, and there was a strange, restless itch building inside you, gnawing at your insides. You could feel your wolf pushing, demanding freedom. It had been too long. You needed to shift, even for just a few minutes, or else things were about to get ugly. You had no doubt your wolf would force it, and when that happened... it wouldn't be pretty.

You pushed yourself off the bed and walked out of the palace, the cold air feeling sharp against your skin. You didn’t know the palace grounds all that well, but you figured you’d stick to the parts you were familiar with—just enough to avoid getting lost. Soon enough, you found yourself at the training field, watching the warriors move with precision and grace. The thud of fists against the pads and the sharp crack of kicks against wood echoed in the air. You could feel the heat of their movements, the raw power and skill radiating off them, but you were stuck on the outside looking in. How much you wished you could join.

You stood there, eyes tracing the motions, and for a moment, it felt like your body might shift without your permission. You needed this. But...

"Luna?" The soft, familiar voice called from behind you, interrupting the swirl of thoughts in your mind. You tensed, shoulders stiffening, and turned around to find Neil standing there, a casual grin on his face.

"What are you doing here?" He chuckled lightly, his voice warm, but there was something in his eyes that made you want to shrink away.

"Nothing," you replied quickly, your words fumbling, "I— I was just wandering around."

Your gaze automatically flicked back to the training field, your chest tightening as you watched them move. The warrior’s bodies flowed like water, each punch, kick, and lunge so fluid. How much you wanted to be part of it.

“All are so good,” you muttered under your breath, a smile tugging at your lips, even though it felt like it was stuck there—forced. "Wish I could join."

Neil watched you for a moment, his expression shifting, softening. He glanced at the warriors before his gaze returned to you. “Why don’t you talk to His Majesty?” he suggested, his voice thoughtful, almost too casual for the weight of his words.

You felt your chest tighten at the mention of Jungkook. The thought of speaking to him… It sent a wave of unease crashing over you. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words stuck. You thought about it for a long time, but no matter how much you wanted to try, the fear of what might happen if you did kept you rooted to the spot.

"I should probably leave,” he muttered, “They must be waiting." With a small nod, he turned and walked away, the light sound of his footsteps fading as he left you standing there alone with your thoughts.

You wanted to speak to Jungkook. You really did. But after everything that happened last night, after the fight that left your heart aching and your mind spinning, you weren’t sure if you had the strength left. You had so much to say—so many things building up inside of you, but each time you thought about it, your chest tightened. The words felt heavy, impossible.

What was the point, anyway? The few moments of affection he’d shown you were quickly overshadowed by the coldness in his words, the brutality that cut deeper than you were willing to admit. Mate or not, you were nothing more than an obligation to him. And that was the bitter truth.

You no longer knew how to even begin, let alone find the strength to confront him. You were tangled in your own feelings, drowning in uncertainty. You didn’t know if you could handle more of his indifference, more of his careless cruelty. The thought of facing him again felt suffocating. Every step forward only seemed to lead to another moment of doubt, and you weren’t sure you could survive it.

But there was something in you that knew, deep down, if you wanted to join the training, you had to speak to him. You had to.

You took a deep breath, your chest rising and falling with the weight of it. Your palms were clammy, your heart thudding against your ribs as you pushed yourself to move. Every step you took felt heavier than the last, but you kept going. The passage to his quarters was short, but with each step, the air around you seemed to grow thicker, your mind louder.

As you reached Jungkook’s quarters, you felt a strange mix of relief and dread. No one stopped you this time. You were finally close enough to knock when, unexpectedly, you heard her voice—the one you dreaded. Elizabeth.

“Jungkook, why won’t you answer me?” Her voice was soft, but there was an unmistakable edge to it that made your stomach twist. You stopped, your hand hovering near the door. She’s here? Why can’t she just leave him alone?, you thought. You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms as frustration burned inside you. Why was she always around your mate?

His voice followed, calm but firm, “Liz, I don’t owe you an answer.”

Your feet were frozen, but a sudden urge to leave washed over you. To turn around and run, back to your room, to hide away from everything. But then, you reminded yourself of why you came here. You had to face him. You had to stop letting her get to you.

You pushed the door open quietly, stepping inside. The soft creak of the door echoed in the silence. Two pairs of eyes snapped to you instantly. His—calm, unreadable—yet there was a subtle shift in his posture. Relaxed, but you could see the faintest sign of something softer in his gaze. He was not mad? But her—her eyes burned into you, cold and hard. You could almost feel the chill radiating from her.

Jungkook sat in a leather chair, papers scattered across his desk. She stood, poised but rigid beside him, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The way she stands, so close to him...

You shifted uncomfortably, but before you could even greet him, Elizabeth spoke up, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “I suppose knocking is just too old-fashioned for some people.” Her words felt like a slap to your face. Why is she like this? What have I ever done to her?, you thought.

You bit your lip, fighting the urge to snap back. But before you could respond, Jungkook’s voice cut through the tension, softer but firm.

“Liz, could you please leave us alone for some time?” he asked, his words so gentle, it almost felt like he was speaking to a child. But she didn’t want to go, you could see it in the way her lips tightened, the way her hands clenched at her sides. Still, with a final, almost spiteful glance at you, she turned on her heel and walked out of the room.

The door clicked softly as it shut behind her, and for a split second, it felt like you could breathe again. "Don't stand. Sit," Jungkook said, his voice low but commanding, his eyes still locked onto you. The intensity of his gaze made your knees wobble, but you refused to let him see it. You lowered yourself into the chair across from him, trying to ignore the way your heart raced under his piercing stare.

“I’m sorry. I should have knocked first,” you murmured, your hands shaking slightly as you folded them in your lap, not daring to look up at him.

“Don’t care,” was all he gave you, his voice flat and distant, like he couldn’t care less about you barging in. His focus shifted to the papers in front of him, his fingers grazing over the edges as he scanned them. The nonchalance in his demeanour unsettled you. Why is he so calm?

You watched him for a moment, his steady hands flicking through the pages, not sparing you a second glance. It was so easy for him, so effortless. You couldn’t understand it. Why does he seem so unaffected by all of this? But you weren’t here to wonder about his behaviour. You came here for something. You came here to speak your mind. Taking a deep breath, you straightened in your seat, forcing your voice steady, even though your heart was pounding in your chest. You could do this. You had to.

"I want to join the training—" you started, but Jungkook didn’t even give you the chance to finish.

“No,” he cut you off, his voice low and final. His hand didn’t stop moving as he scribbled on the paper in front of him, the sound of his pen against the paper somehow louder than your heart pounding in your chest.

You blinked, taken aback. “No?” you repeated, a frown pulling at your lips.

“No” he confirmed.

“Just like that?”

He didn’t look up. His gaze was fixed on the papers before him, unflinching, unmoving. “Just like that.”

The words stung. You felt your jaw tighten, a rush of heat rising to your face. How can he be so dismissive? You took a deep breath, trying to rein in the frustration bubbling up in you. “Why not? It’s important to me.”

“Because I said so.” His tone was cold, matter-of-fact, as if this was something he dealt with every day.

Your teeth ground together, your fists clenching at your sides. This is not happening. You could feel the anger building in your chest, but you swallowed it down, forcing the words through gritted teeth. “So that’s it? I don’t get a say?”

“That’s correct,” he murmured, not even sparing you a glance. His pen continued to move across the page.

You felt your hands tremble, and you fought to keep your composure. This is ridiculous. “I trained every day in my old pack. It’s not like I’m asking for something impossible, Jungkook.”

“It’s not happening,” he replied, his voice almost too calm. His eyes didn’t leave the paper, the brush of his fingers against the document so effortless it made you feel invisible. “It’s for your own good.”

You let out a shaky breath, fighting the urge to let your frustration spill over. For my own good? A bitter laugh nearly escaped your lips. You pressed your lips together, shaking your head. "For my own good? Since when have you cared about my own good?"

At that, a faint twitch of his jaw betrayed his calm composure, but he quickly masked it with a deep breath, keeping his attention on the papers. “Since always,” he said, the words rolling off his tongue as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “You’re my Luna, my Queen. I’d be reckless to let you get hurt.”

The bile in your throat rose, and for a moment, you thought you might snap. Luna? Queen? And… his? You swallowed hard, pushing it down. Riling him up would only make things worse. You needed to remain patient. If he wants to play this game, fine. Let’s play it.

“Oh, for crying out loud, Jungkook!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands in the air, the frustration evident in every fibre of your being. “I’ve trained for years. I am not a porcelain doll. I’m capable. I’m not going to trip over my own feet!” You stood up, your chair scraping loudly against the floor as you stormed over to him, your fists clenched at your sides.

“Good to know,” he replied, not even flinching, his eyes still glued to the paper in front of him. “Still a no.”

You leaned over the desk, your body tense, staring him down with fire in your eyes. “What, you don’t think I can handle it?”

“Oh, I think you’re perfectly capable,” he said without missing a beat, his tone still annoyingly calm. “But again, no.”

You let out an exasperated breath, throwing your hands up in the air again. This is insane. “Are you even trying to understand how important this is to me?”

“Of course,” he said, voice level, as though this was a simple conversation about the weather.

“And yet… no?” you huffed, hands dropping to your hips as you struggled to keep your composure. You let your shoulders sag for a moment before you softened your voice, changing your approach. “Jungkook… please?”

He arched an eyebrow, glancing up at you with a hint of amusement. His lips twitched in a smirk that made your heart flutter with irritation and something else that you were in no position to acknowledge. “Very polite. Still no.”

You bit your lip, a small flare of embarrassment mixed with your growing frustration. You could feel the heat rise in your cheeks. Fine. If he wanted to play stubborn, you could do that too. You stoop up, darting around his desk. You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a softer, more coaxing tone. “Come on… it’s not like you can’t handle me in training, right?” Your breath brushed against his cheek, and you saw a brief flicker of something in his eyes, but it was gone before you could read it.

His hand paused, just for a second, but then he pushed his chair back with a sharp scrape. You almost stumbled forward, catching yourself just in time. He didn’t look at you as he spoke, his voice low, yet entirely unaffected. “No doubt I could handle it,” he murmured, his eyes already back on his papers. “Still no.”

You narrowed your eyes, frustration mounting. I’m not giving up. You lowered your voice again, your tone soft but undeniably sultry, the words slipping from your lips like silk. “I’d love to see you train too. I know you’re incredible with your strength… your precision…” You crouched down to pick up the paper that had fallen from his hand, your movements slow and deliberate as you locked eyes with him. You swore you saw something darker flicker in his gaze, but he blinked it away, a mask of indifference quickly settling in.

He arched an eyebrow, glancing at you briefly, the barest hint of a smile curling his lips. But then he just went back to his work, unfazed. “Glad to know you appreciate my work ethic,” he said flatly. “Still a no.”

Your stomach churned with embarrassment. You’d never felt this exposed in your life. What the hell am I doing wrong? You clenched your fists, the urge to scream gnawing at you. You had never met someone so infuriatingly unyielding. You wanted to tear your hair out. No. You wanted to tear his hair out.

“You’re impossible, you know that?” You hissed, your voice low with frustration, your nails digging into your palms. “Some have said so,” he replied, his voice laced with a quiet amusement. The barest hint of a smile played at the corner of his lips. He didn’t even bother to look at you as he scribbled something on the page. “Glad to see you agree.”

You ground your teeth, tapping your fingers impatiently against the edge of his desk. “What if I just show up anyway?”

“You won’t,” he replied, a soft chuckle escaping him. “You’d follow the rules.”

“Don’t bet on it,” you muttered under your breath, barely stopping yourself from grabbing one of his papers and crumpling it just to get his attention.

He shrugged nonchalantly, eyes still glued to the paper. “Suit yourself.”

You groaned, sinking back into the chair with a frustrated huff, slouching as you glared at him. This is unbelievable. “Unbelievable.”

“Glad we’re in agreement,” he said, his voice smooth, still not looking up from his papers.

“Oh, you’re insufferable!” You practically shouted, your fists clenched, every inch of you vibrating with the need to scream.

He shrugged again, entirely unbothered by your outburst. “That’s what they all say.”

You stared at him for a moment, chest heaving with anger. “So that’s it? You’re not going to consider my feelings at all?”

He sighed, an exaggerated puff of air escaping his lips. His eyes briefly flicked up to meet yours, and you saw the faintest glimmer of something—amusement, Delight, impatience?—before he wiped it away, giving you a look of fake patience.

“I am considering your feelings, sweet mate,” he said, each word deliberately slow. “Which is why I’m saying NO. End of story.”

Your chest tightened as his words hit you like a physical blow. Without another word, you spun on your heel, stalking out of his study. Every step felt like you were carrying the weight of the world, the anger, the frustration, the sheer helplessness seeping into your every movement. You didn’t get far before you heard him call out, his voice oddly casual.

“Don’t forget to shut the door.”

You resisted the urge to shout back, your fists clenched at your sides as you walked away. You couldn’t decide if you wanted to scream or just throw something at the wall to get his attention. But you kept walking, each step filled with the same frustration that made you feel like you might just lose it. How could someone be so frustrating?

You couldn’t understand if it was him being impossible… or if you were just terrible at this. Either way, you hated it. You hated everything about this.

You needed space—anything to escape the frustration that clung to you like a second skin. You wandered into the garden, the scent of fresh earth and blooming flowers doing little to calm your racing thoughts. Your feet moved with no real direction, just the need to be anywhere but near him.

You felt the familiar itch beneath your skin, a restlessness that only came when you hadn't shifted in days. Your body felt tight, like a coil wound too tightly, ready to snap. You needed to get out, to find somewhere open, but Jungkook's control over every inch of your life kept you locked inside. It didn’t matter that you weren’t restricted from shifting. Without his approval, you couldn’t leave the palace.

You kicked a small pebble from the path and watched it soar through the air, landing with a soft thud on… him. Great, today just gets better, you thought bitterly. The worst part? It hit someone and you were already mortified enough. You froze, eyes wide, as the man began walking toward you.

“Luna.” Kenji’s voice was low, his tone holding a touch of amusement. “You could have just called my name, you know. That's not how you call people.”

You couldn’t help but stare at him, the irritation still simmering beneath the surface. There was something so infuriatingly cute about his serious expression when he spoke.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” you muttered, not meeting his gaze.

Kenji raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a playful smile. “You didn’t?”

You just shook your head, staring down at the ground, trying to avoid his eyes.

“What’s got you looking so down?” he asked, his voice softening. He wasn’t the type to press for answers, but something in your posture must have given it away.

“Nothing, really,” you said, but the words felt hollow. You hesitated, then added, “Actually, I want to join the training too, but Jungkook won’t let me.”

Kenji tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “His Majesty must have his reasons.”

You forced a smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. His words hit something raw inside you, making your irritation burn even hotter. You clenched your fists at your sides, the annoyance seeping into your features. “I get it, but… why are you taking his side?”

He chuckled softly, clearly not catching the edge in your tone. “You look scary when you do that,” he said.

“Do I?” You raised an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with a pointed look.

Kenji nodded slowly, but the smirk never left his lips. You exhaled sharply, trying to steady your breathing. “I just want to train. Is that too much to ask?”

Kenji laughed, the sound light and easy. “You’re cute when you whine.”

Your cheeks flushed, heat rising under your skin. You hated how it made you feel, but you didn’t have the energy to fight it. He sobered quickly, glancing around as if to make sure no one else was listening. “If anyone heard me say that and told His Majesty, he’d have my head.”

“Jungkook doesn’t care,” you muttered, but the words felt empty. You didn’t even believe them anymore.

Kenji chuckled, shaking his head. “You have no idea, Luna.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You crossed your arms, eyes narrowing.

Kenji just shook his head again, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Nothing.”

“Alright, I’m heading back now,” you said.

“Please let me escort you,” he offered, the hint of concern back in his tone.

You shook your head, irritation creeping back into your chest. “I’m fine.”

“If you say so,” Kenji said, still unconvinced. “I’m just worried you’ll get lost again.”

You froze, the memory of your last misadventure flashing in your mind. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you shot him a glare. “I don’t get lost,” you muttered, a small growl slipping out.

Kenji’s laughter echoed around you, carefree. “Why are you looking at me like that, Luna? I mean, it’s perfectly normal to get lost. Even I do sometimes.”

You hated that he was trying to make light of it. Was he genuinely trying to make you feel better? Or was he just poking fun at your expense? You didn’t have the energy to figure it out. Instead, you just glared at him, biting your lip to keep your irritation in check.

Without saying another word, you turned and started walking toward your quarters, your steps quick and deliberate. Kenji called after you, but you didn’t respond.

You sank into the chair by the window, staring out at the world outside. The soft orange glow of the setting sun filtered through the trees, casting long shadows over the garden below. People passed by, lost in their own lives, oblivious to the tangled mess you were caught in. For the first time in a while, you felt a semblance of peace. The day had been quiet—calm, even. A rare moment of reprieve. Progress, right?

But that fragile calm shattered the moment the door to your room creaked open. You didn’t even have time to register the movement before you turned, and there she stood. Elizabeth. Your heart dropped into your stomach as shock froze you in place. What was she doing here? In your room? Your space?

"I believe I don’t need to introduce myself," she said, her voice smooth, confident. But there was something sharp beneath it. Her eyes—red-rimmed, dark with pain and something colder—never left you. Her gaze was like a weight, bearing down on you.

You swallowed, unable to form words as she took a step forward. "You’re probably wondering why I’m here," she continued, her lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "Or perhaps the real question is... what exactly is my connection to your mate?"

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You blinked, your pulse picking up. What? You couldn’t keep the shock from showing on your face, and she noticed. She chuckled softly at your expression, that mocking, knowing look still lingering in her eyes.

"I’ll tell you, though we both know he won’t," she said, her voice dipping into a taunting tone. "Tell me, Luna… how old are you?"

The word Luna felt like a slap coming from her, and you clenched your fists at your sides, a tightness in your chest that wasn’t just from her words. It was something darker, something you couldn’t quite name. You bit your lip, trying to hold it together. But then she asked again, her voice sharp, pulling you back to the moment.

“Twenty-five,” you whispered, barely above a breath.

Elizabeth nodded, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied you. "Yes. And as we both know… we typically find our mates around…?"

“Eighteen,” you responded, your voice almost distant. The numbers didn’t matter. What mattered was what she was saying. Where was this going?

“Right. By eighteen,” she murmured, a bitter edge creeping into her voice. "And yet… he hadn’t. Not until now."

You felt a coldness creeping over you. You already knew the next part, but hearing her say it out loud made your stomach turn.

"I… don’t have a mate," she continued, her voice soft but edged with an anger that made your skin prickle. "I’ve never had one. Mate-lessness is a cruel fate, but it happens."

A part of you wanted to feel sorry for her, but the rest of you was on alert. You knew exactly where this was going, and it sent a cold shiver down your spine.

She paused, taking a breath that sounded too controlled. Her eyes flicked back to you, the anger sharpening in her features. “For years, my father believed that since Jungkook had no mate… perhaps he and I could…” Her voice trailed off, but the bitterness was clear. You didn’t need her to finish that sentence.

"Then… my father found out Jungkook still hadn’t claimed anyone." Elizabeth’s smirk was all mockery now, as if she’d won some silent battle. "It seemed like everything was… in place."

You felt heat rush to your face, a sick, simmering anger rising up from deep inside. Jungkook. How could he do this? How could he let them believe that there was a chance? The rage roiled in your chest, but you swallowed it down, focusing on her words. You clenched your jaw, pushing it down. The rage bubbling up inside you was almost too much to control. How could he do this? How could he disregard you so easily, so completely? You had never felt smaller. To know that Jungkook hadn't told Elder Mathew the truth—it felt like a slap in the face. Even after knowing what Elder Mathew was thinking, he still choose to hide the truth. Jungkook had allowed him to continue believing there was a chance for his daughter to claim him. Your breath hitched as the bitter sting of betrayal tightened its grip on you.

Humiliated.

That was the only word that seemed to capture the feeling. You felt your chest tighten, your hands trembling as you fought to hold it all together. He didn’t even have the decency to tell me.

"I never knew he had a mate," she said softly, her gaze softening only for a second. But there was something else in her eyes now—something darker. Envy. Disdain. Hate. It was all there, hidden beneath the surface.

“Well, you know now,” you said, your voice steady even though everything in you was screaming to lash out. She tilted her head, her lips curling into a thin smile.

“Yes. He told me himself,” she said. There was something cold in her words, and for a split second, you felt your heart skip a beat. The idea of what Jungkook could have said—it burned at you, but you wouldn’t ask. You couldn’t ask.

"what did he say?" well, here you go…

“He said that he couldn’t betray the bond,” she said, her words hanging in the air like a weight you couldn’t shake off. It felt like the ground beneath you cracked open, but you didn’t fall. The ache in your chest was quiet at first, like the first stirrings of a storm. It settled in your bones, the truth spreading, too cold to ignore.

You exhaled slowly, the words settling over you. The bond. The very thing that kept you tethered to him, kept you bound to this cruel fate. He couldn’t betray the bond.

For a second, it almost felt like the weight of it all lifted, like you could breathe again. But then reality slammed into you—the truth of it. He couldn’t betray the bond. but... what about you? All he cared about was bond not you, never you. He hadn’t claimed you. He’d hidden you. Hidden your bond like it was something to be ashamed of. The words she said, even if they were tainted with bitterness, felt like a cruel mirror, reflecting the truth you were too scared to face.

The ache in your chest grew, gnawing at you. He might not have betrayed the bond, but had he chosen you? Or were you simply his obligation? He hadn't said he loved you. Nothing of the sort—just that he couldn't betray the bond. The bond? What about you?

"That's why I’m here," Elizabeth said, her voice steady, but there was an edge to it—something dark lurking just beneath the surface.

You frowned, a chill running down your spine as you tried to piece together her meaning. "What do you mean?"

Her eyes met yours, sharp and unwavering. She stood up and took a step closer, but you didn't move. Her gaze pinned you to the spot, as if daring you to look away.

"I wanted to meet you," she replied, though the way she said it sent a shiver crawling up your spine. “But don’t misunderstand. I’m not here to give him up.”

Her words cut through you like a knife, each one slicing away at the delicate control you’d been trying so hard to maintain. Your heart plummeted. The truth of her meaning was as sharp as it was clear. All the sympathy you might’ve felt for her dissolved in an instant, replaced by a wave of anger so sudden it left you gasping for breath.

“Jungkook and I, we’ve always been close,” she continued, her voice softening just enough to carry a twisted, sickly nostalgia. "Since we were children. I have always loved him. I was there when he grew, when he… changed.” Her eyes drifted away from yours, her expression softening for just a moment as if remembering something from the past, but it quickly turned cold again. "I have loved him in ways that... no one else can understand."

She paused, and a bitter smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. Her lips were twisted, but her eyes betrayed her—bright and sharp, yet full of something unshed. Tears, you realized. She was trying to hide them, but you could see it—the faint trembling of her bottom lip, the way she had to blink harder to push them back.

“When I turned eighteen,” she whispered, her voice hollow, almost broken, “I prayed to the moon goddess every night to make him mine.” The words spilled from her like a confession, but the way she spoke—slow, measured—made your stomach turn. She was too used to this pain. Too used to wanting something she couldn’t have.

"But then, when I found out he wasn’t my mate…" Her voice cracked just slightly, and she paused, swallowing the lump in her throat. She forced herself to breathe, but you could see the fury flicker in her eyes, burning brighter than before. "I cried for days. And when I realized I had no mate... I started praying again."

Her gaze locked onto you, her eyes darkening as she leaned forward, just an inch. The air between you crackled with tension. She didn’t have to say it. You already knew what came next.

“This time," she murmured, her voice dripping with a sickly sweetness that made your skin crawl, "I prayed he’d never find a mate either."

You swallowed hard, your breath coming out in a tight, controlled hiss. This woman… Your mind was racing, your pulse thundering in your ears as the words burned their way into you.

“I know it’s selfish," she continued, the twisted sweetness in her voice turning darker, more possessive, "But I have loved him my whole life. And that won’t change, mate bond or not.”

Her face twisted again, but this time, the expression was different—something darker. Her eyes narrowed, her lips pulled into a twisted, almost feral smile. She took a step closer, the coldness in her gaze making the distance between you feel vast and suffocating.

“I want him,” she said, her voice low and filled with an unsettling certainty. “And I will have him.”

The words hung in the air like a challenge, and you felt every fibre of your being coil with anger. Your breath caught, the tightness in your chest making it hard to speak. She didn’t even flinch as she delivered the final blow.

"You came all this way just to tell me that?" you managed, your voice dangerously calm, though every muscle in your body was tense, coiled and ready to snap. You looked at her, fighting to keep your tone neutral, but the bitterness inside you was clear.

Her lips curled into a smug, almost predatory smile as she tilted her head, like a cat toying with a mouse. She knew how much it hurt.

“I thought you deserved to know,” she said, her tone dripping with mock sweetness. "Better than letting you think it would all be... behind your back."

Your jaw clenched, the taste of her words souring in your mouth. You fought to keep the sting from showing on your face, but it was impossible. How dare she?

“How... thoughtful of you,” you replied, each word laced with barely restrained sarcasm, your voice sharp enough to cut through the tension thick in the room. The anger simmered just beneath the surface, but you held it back, for now.

She laughed, but it wasn’t a real laugh. It was bitter, mocking—sharp enough to tear at your heart. The sound echoed in your chest, twisting something dark and tight inside you. The anger bubbling inside of you now felt different. It felt like fire, something raw and uncontrollable. You didn’t even know you were capable of feeling this much.

You stared at her, praying the moon goddess would take pity on you and just make her leave. Because if she said one more thing, you knew you’d lose it. You could already feel it—if you didn’t get her to go, the rage inside would break free, and that wouldn’t be very queen-like, would it?

Her presence felt like a weight on your chest, suffocating, like she was pressing down on your very soul. You couldn’t stand it. The way she stood there, smug and triumphant, was like a slap to your face. You didn’t enjoy this—this taunting game—but you knew why she was here. She had two reasons, you realized, as her eyes locked onto yours, cold and calculating.

One: She was hurt, feeling banned. She had finally lost something she never truly had, but in her mind, she thought it was always hers to take. The delusion had kept her going for so long, and now that it was gone, she was miserable. Two: She wanted you to feel what she felt. Every ounce of pain, every scrape of loss. The feeling of something just slipping out of your grasp, like you were so close to holding it and then poof—gone. She wanted you to understand the ache of not belonging, of being left behind, the ache of being left with nothing but empty hands.

And, as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you understood. You felt the same. The pain, the coldness from your own mate, the way he barely seemed to see you—It hurt. It burned in a way you weren’t prepared for.

But then a darker thought crept into your mind, a fear you hadn’t allowed yourself to face before. What if Jungkook didn’t want you? What if he never would? He had made it clear, time and time again—he didn't care. He was cold, indifferent to your presence, to your pain. You were nothing to him.

You could feel the tremor of fear crawling up your spine, tightening your chest. He told her that he had you, but he wasn't ready to accept you. He might not have wanted her yet, but how long would that last? Sooner or later, he had to choose. He would have to.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a second, the thought burning in your mind like a brand. Your heart was hammering in your chest as the realization hit you—he might never choose you, not because of the her, but because he simply didn’t care enough. But, the mate bond wouldn't let him choose her.

Was there anything you could do?

There was no choice for you. No real choice, was there? Stay here and let the fear drown you, or fight. Fight for him. Fight to make him see you, make him feel for you, even though every inch of you knew he wasn’t ready for that. You took a shaky breath, your hands trembling as you gripped the edge of the threshold of the window, in front of you.

Fight.

You had to fight.

But how? How could you make him fall when all you had was your hope and a burning need for something that might never come?

You didn’t have a choice anymore. You couldn’t leave. He wouldn’t let you. And, you couldn’t let her have your mate.

And so, standing there, torn between rage and fear, the only thing you could do was make your choice.

Let me know how you feel about it—love it, hate it, whatever, I’m all ears! Text, asks, comments, dramatic rants, or even a drabble request—anything goes. Character asks? Open too! So, send something my way if you want. No pressure, though. (But maybe just a little pressure?)

Also, a HUGE thank you for reading it. If you liked it or reblogged it, just know I love you. Like, a lot. You're the MVP of my little corner of chaos.

#kookiewithluv #ashes of promises #bts ffs #bts ff #bts fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fiction #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook bts #jungkook bangtan #jeon jungguk #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you

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