โง Oh, my dear, I simply adore a good challenge! Exploring taboo topics? Why, itโs like peering into the deliciously dark corners of the human soul! Even if it tugs against my personal morals, I see it as a thrilling opportunity to understand societyโs most curious complexities. Smut, you say? Why, itโs not my usual cup of tea, but present me with a plot as tantalizing as a devilโs deal, and I might just be tempted to indulge!
โงCredit for @cafekitsune for the divider and masterlist.
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In which, a man, though she saw him as nothing but a pawn, stayed by her side from dusk until dawn. Knowing her heart would never be true, he schemed in silence for her games to undo.
Marriage is one of the most beautiful things to ever happen.
Marriage is the most sacred alchemy of the human heart; it is not just a ceremony or a vow made in front of witnesses. It becomes transcendent when it is true and real. It is the discrete wonder of repeatedly choosing someone in the midst of a burning world. It is the solemn pledge to walk with them, not just through tenderness and laughter, but also through storms, and through the long, dark nights when love must be chosen rather than felt.
To marry the one you love, truly love, the one whose name echoes in the hollows of your ribs, whose voice stirs unpalpable emotions in your chest, is to bind your very soul in ribbons of light and fire. You would bleed for them, gladly. Burn, even. Not because it necessitates suffering, but because it renders all sacrifices seem joyful. It becomes a privilege to hurt with them, to heal with them, to grow old in the garden of their presence.
Marriage is more than just sewing two souls together; it is the weaving of time itself. Yesterday's thread intertwined with today, drawing firmly towards the invisible tapestry of tomorrow. And for Vox, that future glistened before him, horrifyingly beautiful, under the gentle mist of crimson altar light.
His hands quivered out of respect rather than fear. His heart pounded in his chest like a war drum, but it was filled with awe rather than chaos. Awe that he was picked by someone like her. Awe that they had both come to this holy cliff by fate, chance, or divine intervention. And it seemed as if the world briefly lost its ability to spin when she came into view.
She wasnโt merely beautiful. She was that aching stillness in a gallery before the masterwork is unveiled. She was the hush before the first notes of a symphony are played. Her beauty wasnโt in her dress, though it shimmered like spun moonlight. It wasnโt in the way her hair caught the light, or how her lips curved when she saw him. It was in the truth of her. In the solemnity of her eyes, assured and steady, as though she had the stars behind her and would present them to him one by one if he ever got lost.
Vox forgot to breathe. Not because she took his breath away, though she did, but because everything in him paused to feel. This was no performance. This was not for anyone else. This was the binding of souls.
This was love.
Vox's hands trembled at his sides, desperate to hold her, to touch her, to confirm that she was real. And her smile, although faint, hit him like a thunderclap. Her smile was more than just an accessory; it was a part of who she was.
He thought of the nights she had held him when he didnโt know how to hold himself together. The mornings when her laughter was the first thing heโd heard, like the melody of a song he never wanted to end. He thought of how her mellifluous voice had been his lifeline when the world felt like too much.
And now, here she was.
Standing only a breath away.
She was a constellation of everything he had ever desired.
She walked slowly towards him. Her dress billowed. Her clothing shimmered faintly in the light as she fixed his eyes, binding him to the idea he had never ventured to hope for: forever.
When her hands slipped into his, he felt itโa kind of gravity pulling him closer. She was warm, her palms were soft.
The officiant spoke, but the words melted into a blur. Vox was unable to hear them; all he could hear was their silent conversation as their eyes locked and he saw the joy shining on them.
When it was his turn to speak, his voice was low.
โI thought I knew what love was before you,โ he began. โBut I didnโt. I didnโt know it could be thisโฆ endless. You are my breath when I canโt breathe, my anchor when the world is unkind. I vow to love you not in spite of your flaws, but because of them. To see you, all of you, and never turn away. You are my reason.
โMy everything.โ
Her tears came then, streaming down her cheeks that he had kissed a thousand times but would kiss a thousand more.
โVox, my beloved,โ she whispered, her voice trembling.
โFrom the depths of my soulโฆโ Her breath hitched, her chest rising sharply. Her lips quivered, and for a moment, her silence was louder than her voice. โI promise to love you unconditionally.โ
A tear slipped down her cheek as she held his hands tighter, her fingers shaking, but her grip was firm.
โTo support and encourage youโฆโ
โโฆin all that you do.โ
She smiled then faintly. Her eyes searched his, as if she were seeking something only he could give.
โWith this ring,โ she whispered.
โI give you my heart.
โMy life.
โMy forever.
โTo walk with you in the light, in the shadow, in the places no one else dares to tread.โ
The room seemed to tilt. The air grew heavy, and the light dimmed imperceptibly.
And thenโ
The lights wavered. Twice. Then it got dark. Cold and suffocating, it pressed against their skin and lungs as if it were a living thing. Through the floorboards and the very marrow of their bones, a deep, guttural hum rose.
The sound abruptly stopped, leaving a thick silence that made it seem as though the entire world had gone silent. The lights came back to life all of a sudden, brighter than everโalmost too bright. The air seemed strange, too still, as though life had been sucked out of it.
She laughed then, a nervous, brittle sound that cracked against the stillness. โIt seems even the hells couldnโt handle our emotions,โ she murmured, brushing at her tears with trembling hands. Her voice was light, but the undercurrent trembled, frayed at the edges.
Vox didnโt speak. He smiled faintly, though it didnโt reach his eyes.
His eyes stayed locked on hers, their usual steadiness flickering like the lights that had just failed them. The officiantโs voice carried on as though nothing had happened.
โYou may now kiss your bride.โ
Vox stepped forward, his hands cold as they cradled her face. When his lips touched hers, the room erupted into applause, but it was muted, distant, like a sound heard through water.
โI love you, Y/N.โ
The reception was vibrant, filled with laughter and celebration. She moved effortlessly among the guests, her joy lighting up the room as she greeted friends. Vox stayed near the edges, his glass untouched, his eyes following her every move. She was a vision, a ray of life and warmth.
He saw her smile brightly and contagiously as she laughed with her friends, her head cocked back. It was intoxicating the way she exuded confidence and freedom. But as the evening drew on, his thoughts grew gloomier and his eyes heavy.
Finally, as the celebration began to wane, she found him standing alone on the balcony, the cool night air brushing against his skin.
โYouโve been so quiet,โ she said, her voice soft as she slipped her hand into his. โAre you alright?โ
He turned to her slowly, his smile faint.
โJust thinking.โ
โAbout what?โ she asked, tilting her head to study him.
โAbout how perfect today has been.โ
She smiled warmly, stepping closer. โIt really has been perfect, hasnโt it?โ
He nodded, though his eyes lingered on hers.
โWhatโs wrong?โ she teased, her voice light and playful, the way it always was with him. โYouโre usually the one who never shuts up. Donโt tell me Iโve finally left you speechless.โ
Vox smirked; his laugh low.
โMaybe,โ he said, his tone lilting. His hand rose, fingers brushing a strand of hair from her face. โI was just thinking about something, thatโs all.โ
She raised a brow, her teasing smile softening. โThinking? About what?โ
His eyes lingered on her for a beat too long, and his smirk faltered.
โAbout how lucky I am,โ he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. โAbout how lucky Iโve always beenโฆ to have you.โ
Her playful demeanor shifted ever so slightly, her teasing glint became gentler.
โYouโre getting sappy on me,โ she said, laughing lightly, though she studied him closer now. โThatโs not like you.โ
โYeah, well,โ he started. โMaybe Iโm just realizing a few things. About me. About you. About us.โ
He trailed off, his thumb brushing the curve of her cheek.
Her brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of unease slipping into her voice. โYouโre acting strange, Vox. Whatโs this about?โ
His grin returned, but it was sharp this time, a razorโs edge hidden behind a velvet tone. โStrange? Come on, sweetheart, you know me.โ
Silence.
โFrom the start,โ he murmured, almost to himself. โI always knew.
โKnew what this was.
โKnew who I was dealing with.โ
Her breath caught, her confusion deepening.
He chuckled, the sound dripping with charm that didnโt match his words.
โDonโt look at me like that, darling. Itโs not as bad as it sounds.โ His hand cupped her face now, the gesture intimate but the way he held her felt foreign.
โI let you use me.โ
His chest rose and fell. His eyesโthose eyes that used to soften for her like melting glassโwere hard now. Not cold. Never cold. There was too much heat in them for that. A hollow laugh ripped out of him.
โI let you do it from the moment we met. Even deep inside I fucking knew what you were.โ
A hollow laugh tore from him.
โYou didnโt even try to hide it. You looked at me like a thing. And Iโโ He faltered, breath hitching. โI let you.โ
He looked at her then.
โYou didnโt steal a damn thing. I gave it. I let you.โ
He gave a soft, bitter laugh.
โAnd now I get to call it a trick, because thatโs easier than admitting how low I bent for you. Isnโt that pathetic?โ
Silence.
โYou didnโt have to break me. I handed you the pieces. I fucking gift-wrapped myself for you. Not because I didnโt know better.
โBut because it was you.โ
His hands trembled at his sides.
โBecause I loved you. Because I stillโโ
He stopped, his jaw tightening, his ivories lancing the inside of his cavern.
โI loved you so much I let you ruin me. And worseโI watched you do it. I chose it.โ
His voice dropped again, quiet but honed like a blade.
โAnd I hate that. I hate you for it. I hate me for it.โ
Her lips parted, stunned.
โI would neverโVoxโโ she breathed, her voice cracking.
โOh, I know, babe,โ he interrupted, his grin stretching wider, but his eyes didnโt warm. โI know you love me. Or at least, you think you do. But we both know how this goes, donโt we?โ
โVox,โ she started, her voice trembling, but he only tilted his head, studying her like she was the most fascinating puzzle heโd ever seen.
โRelax,โ he cooed, his voice softening again, deceptively smooth. โYou donโt have to explain. Iโve always known what you were looking for.โ
โThatโs not true!โ she protested, shaking her head as her hands came up to grip his wrists. โI chose you. Iโm here, arenโt I? I--I love youโโ
His grin fell.
โI know,โ he said, his voice low. โBut itโs okay.
โI donโt need it to be real.
โMy loveโs enough for the both of us.โ
Her breath hitched as she felt the cold weight settle around her neck. Her hands shot up to the chain, her fingers clawing at its silver links, but it wouldnโt budge.
โVox,โ she gasped, her voice shaking. โWhatโฆ is this? What did you do?โ
Her tears spilled freely, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as she stared at him, her voice trembling.
Then, in fragments rather than all at once, it clicked. The way his words had curved precisely during the vows, the flickering lights, and the odd weight in the air. The wedding had not been the only event. A binding had occurred.
Horror crept up like frost on a windowpane, and her eyes widened.
โYou used it,โ she whispered, the words catching in her throat. โYou used my vowsโฆ the ceremonyโฆ to seal it.โ
Vox said nothing.
She shook her head slowly, the color draining from her face. โYou knew Iโd never sign anything if you laid it out bare. If you told me what it really was. But thisโฆโ
Her voice cracked, brittle and betrayed. โYou wrapped it in lace and candlelight. You made me promise my soul under the lie of love.โ
Her knees weakened. She stumbled back a step, clutching the cold chain at her neck, as if trying to undo time.
โYou tricked me,โ she whispered. โThe weddingโit wasnโt real, was it?โ
He laughed softly, the sound a mix of affection and cruelty.
ย โOh, doll,โ he murmured, brushing his lips against her temple.
โTake it off,โ she pleaded, her voice cracking as her hands tugged frantically at the chain. โPlease, Voxโtake it off!โ
His thumb trailed over her jawline.
โI gave you everything,โ he said, and for a moment, his voice was heartbreak itself. โYou swore you'd stay. You made your vow. And now you're trying to take it back?โ His head tilted. โCruel of you, love. Cruel indeed.โ
Her tears spilled freely, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as she stared at him, her voice trembling.
โIโm the first to admit Iโm reckless,โ he said softly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. โI get lost in you, in your beauty, in everything that makes youโฆ you. And Iโve never regretted itโnot once.โ
โHowโฆ how could you do this then?โ
He wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb, his touch achingly gentle. โBecause I love you,โ he whispered. โI had to make sure youโd never leave. Not in this life. Not in the next. Not for all eternity in hellโ
He leaned in closer, his lips brushing hers as he murmured his final words:
In words, her love for him was written so elaborately, capturing every moment she spent with her one and onlyโher first and last love for all eternity in hell.
[Redacted], [Redacted]
The evening light fell through the thick curtains, soft and crimson, painting the room in a glow that felt too gentle for the chaos in my head. I sat in the old velvet armchair by the window, fingers idly tracing the edge of a book I wasnโt really reading. It was one of the first things Vox ever gave meโan old collection of poetry heโd somehow known Iโd love. At the time, I didnโt think much of it. He had a knack for making grand gestures that felt more performative than personal. But now, years later, the edges of the book are worn, the pages creased, and it feels like a piece of him.
Not that Iโll ever admit that to his face.
The door slid open almost too quietly and somehow loud in a way. I didnโt need to look up. Iโd memorized everything about himโthe way his footsteps always landed just a little too perfectly in rhythm, like he was walking to a beat only he could hear. And I could always tell what mood he was in from the way he moved. Tonight, his steps were light, teasing even, but there was an underlying tension. Something electric, humming just below the surface.
โWell, well, my dearest sweetheart,โ his voice cut through the stillness, smooth and self-assured as always. Heโs so predictable, and yet, I never tire of it. โIโve come bearing gifts.โ
Of course, he didnโt specify what kind. Heโs all about the build-up, the mystery. I didnโt bother responding right away, keeping my eyes on the book as if I couldnโt feel the way the air shifted when he was near. He hates being ignoredโitโs one of the only things that ever throws him off balanceโand maybe thatโs why I do it. Or maybe itโs because I know heโll rise to the challenge.
His footsteps grew closer, and I felt him before I saw him. He always brings this strange heat with him, this pull I canโt describe. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head, and I sighed without meaning to.
โMy little dove,โ he murmured, his tone lower, softer now.
He rarely calls me by my name anymore. Itโs always dove or kitten or whatever absurd pet name heโs thought up that day. At first, I hated it. I thought it was condescending, another one of his attempts to remind me how easily he could get under my skin. But over time, I grew to love them, even the ridiculous ones. Theyโre uniquely his. And on the rare occasions when he uses my real name, it feels like the ground shifts beneath us. Itโs never casual. Itโs always willful. Always meaningful.
โYou look so beautiful when youโre lost in your thoughts,โ he said, his voice honeyed with affection. โWhatโs weighing on that gorgeous mind of yours?โ
I didnโt look up right away, but I felt my lips curve into the smallest smile. I couldnโt help it. Thatโs the thing about Voxโhe can be infuriating, arrogant, and impossibly smug, but he knows how to disarm me like no one else does.
We didnโt fall easily, Vox and I. From the start, there was something about him that both drew me in and made me want to run in the opposite direction. He carried himself with an effortless confidence, like the entire world was a game he had already won. It irritated meโhis smug grin, the way he always seemed to know what to say to get under my skin. I thought he was just playing a game, trying to collect me like some prize to add to his collection. And maybe, at first, he was. And I told myself I wouldnโt fall for it, that I wouldnโt give him the satisfaction.
But beneath the control and that insufferable charm, there was something else, something quieter that he tried to hide. It was in the way his smile slipped for just a fraction of a second when he thought no one was watching, in the restless energy that hummed beneath his carefully constructed exterior. At first, I didnโt know what to make of it, but I couldnโt look away.
The first time he let his guard down, it completely threw me. I donโt even remember what I saidโsome sharp remark I expected him to brush off with his usual smirk. But he didnโt. For a moment, he faltered. His expression shifted, and I caught a glimpse of something raw, something vulnerable. It wasnโt weaknessโit was depth. A part of him he rarely let anyone see.
That moment stayed with me.
Piece by piece, he started to show me more of who he was. And maybe it was because I knew what it was like to wear armor, to keep people at a distance, that I started to let him in.ย
Slowly, cautiously.ย
We were opposites in so many ways, but we fit together in ways I never expected.
It wasnโt perfect, of course.ย
Vox can be impossibleโhis ego alone could fill a room, and when we argue, itโs like the inferno itself comes alive. But when he loves, itโs with a kind of vehemence that sweeps everything else away. Itโs overwhelming at times, but itโs also grounding. No matter how chaotic things get, I know where I stand with him.
When we found out we were going to have a child, I think we both panicked. Vox doesnโt do uncertainty well, and neither do I. I remember the way his eyes crackled brighter than usual, static buzzing faintly in the air as he processed the news. โGuess weโre in it now,โ he said at that, trying to sound casual. But I heard the waver in his voice, saw the way his hand tightened around mine.
And yet, when the time came, he surprised me. He threw himself into fatherhood with the same relentless fervor he brings to everything else. The first time I saw him hold our child, I couldnโt speak. His sharp edges seemed to melt away, replaced by something softer, something fiercely protective. He whispered to them, low and quiet, promises only they could hear. But I did hear him anyway, not that Iโll admit it straight to his face how warm he made me feel that day.
โYouโll have everything,โ he said, his voice a mixture of love and his usual, infuriating confidence. โBecause Iโm your dad, and I donโt lose.โ
Even now, I can hear him in the other room from time to time, his voice drifting down the hallway. Heโs probably showing off some gadget or spinning one of his ridiculous stories. And even though I tease him about it, I canโt help but smile. I never imagined someone like Voxโarrogant, conniving, larger than lifeโcould be so utterly devoted.
I looked at him tonight, his posture still so perfectly poised, yet there was that same softness in his eyes.
โIโm just thinking,โ I finally said, keeping my tone light. โDo you know what your childโs up to tonight?โ
At that, his expression softened entirely. The shift was immediate. His trademark arrogance melted away as his gaze followed mine, toward the faint sounds of laughter coming from across the room.
โYou mean, ours?โ he replied, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face.
I couldnโt help but smile back, meeting his eyes. There was a warmth in them that made me feel like everything weโd been throughโall the arguments, all the chaosโwas worth it. He understood what I meant without me having to say it, and without another word, he rose to his feet.
I watched him go, as his tall frame walk towards her across the room. She was, sitting on the floor, legs crossed, surrounded by a mess of colored pencils and chocolate wrappers. She was completely absorbed in her little drawing pad, her brow furrowed in concentration, her tiny hands moving fast as if the world depended on her finishing her masterpiece.
Then there was Vox. His sharp, calculated presence seemed to transform the moment he saw her. Itโs strange to see him like thisโa man who commands power with such ease, brought to his knees by a child with smudged hands and wide, trusting eyes. He smiled at her, and not the smirk I know so well, but something softer, something I donโt see often.
โThere she is, our precious princess,โ he said, his voice carrying that rare warmth that always catches me off guard. He knelt beside her, watching her draw with an expression so unguarded, it almost felt like I was intruding by just being there.
โHas anyone ever told you that you are the most precious thing in all of existence, my little princess?โ he asked her, and she giggled in response, beaming up at him.
โIโm drawing a picture of you, Daddy!โ
โOh, really? Let me see,โ he said, his voice playful, but there was pride in it too. โYouโve made me look even more handsome than I already am. Thatโs some real talent, sweetheart.โ
I sat back, watching them from my chair, and I couldnโt stop the smile tugging at my lips. For all his arrogance, his ego, and his maddening ability to always be right, thereโs a side to Vox that only comes out in moments like these. Itโs soft and almost innocent, a love so pure it feels out of place coming from someone like him.
Of course, I had to break the moment. The basket of chocolates sitting nearby was a crime scene, wrappers scattered everywhere, and the evidence was smeared all over her face.
โYouโve given her too many chocolates today,โ I said, raising an eyebrow as I pointed to the chaos around her.
He didnโt even flinch. Vox just waved me off with that trademark confidence of his and shot me one of his infuriatingly charming winks. โSheโs my little princess, darling. A few chocolates wonโt hurt her. If I could spoil her forever, I would.โ
I rolled my eyes, though I couldnโt entirely hide my amusement. โJust remember, youโre the one dealing with her sugar rush later.โ
He laughed at that, a rich, warm sound, and turned his full attention back to our daughter. He reached out, brushing a hand through her hair before scooping her up and settling her on his lap. She squealed with delight, her tiny hands grabbing at him, completely oblivious to the world around her.
โAnything for you, my little star,โ he said softly, unwrapping another chocolate and feeding it to her. She giggled again, leaning into him like he was the safest place in the universe.
And then, so quietly I almost didnโt hear it, he leaned closer to her and whispered, โYou know, sweetheart, if you need anything at all, you come to Daddy, and Iโll make it happen.โ
โYou and your mother were my everything.โ
I donโt know why that got to me. Iโve seen Vox command rooms full of people, manipulate entire situations with ease, and wield his power without hesitation. But here, in this tiny, messy living room, he was just a father, completely devoted to his child in a way I never expected when I first met him.
Itโs moments like these that make it hard to stay angry with him, no matter how impossible he can be. Thereโs a part of himโguarded, yes, but fiercely loyal and endlessly protectiveโthat I canโt turn away from.
For all his flawsโand there are so, so manyโhe loves with a kind of fervor thatโs hard to explain. And when it comes to our child, that love is the purest thing Iโve ever seen.
A divine creature found himself committing a sinโa grievous sin, so much so that he knew heaven would bar his return. Yet he found peace in it, for the sin was born of love. And surely, could heaven truly condemn a transgression made in something so pure?
Idk what's happening to me but I've been super insecure of my writing lately that i couldn't bring myself to sit on my desk and scribble down my ideas. Was it lack of inspiration or obsession? But i feel like it was way more deeply rooted to perfectionism. Anyway, i tried to do a little bit today and ended up rewritting the whole plot of this one, i'll try to do a bit of writing yet again, i just wanted to badly escape the suffocation of this perfectionism
In which, he had seen it allโthe greed, the lies, the filth that consumed the world, dragging everything down with it. And yet, there she was, untouched by it all, the purest thing he had ever known.
Each step echoed quietly against the stone as he walked down the vast, shadowed hallways, cold air filling his lungs. A stifling memory of what he had seen, the filth of the outside world stuck to him like a second skin. The stink of human machinations persisted, with polished words concealing whispered threats and shallow grins concealing sharp teeth. The same perverse games had been performed everywhere he had gone tonight.
Bodies clad in exquisite silk and brimming with aspiration had filled the halls of power. Like flies, their voices whirled falsehoods and treachery into a never-ending, oppressive web. He had seen too much of it, more than he could bear. The memory alone turned his stomach.
Ash clenched his fists, the urge to destroy it all clawing at his chest. What was the point of their existence, these vile, hollow creatures? They consumed and corrupted everything pure, leaving only rot in their wake. The thought burned in his mind: the world would be better off without them. He could wipe them awayโevery last one of them.
But then, the corridor stretched before him, long and quiet.
He let out a breath, slow and uneven, as his steps began to echo softly against the stone walls. This was the way to her. The air grew still, the distant murmur of the court fading with every step. The pull in his chest shifted, the searing rage melting into something else.
It wasnโt happinessโno, that was too simple. It was relief.
Relief that, in a world so deeply marred by cruelty and greed, she still existed. Her presence at the end of this hallway was the only thing keeping him grounded, the only thing stopping him from becoming the monster he knew he could be.
His steps slowed as he approached the door, plain and unremarkable to anyone else. To him, it was everything. He stopped and inhaled deeply, steadying himself, as if her presence on the other side could seep through the wood and soothe the storm raging inside him.
His hand hovered over the handle, trembling. He didnโt open it. Not yet. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his forehead against the wood, as if touching it would bring him closer to her. He closed his eyes and let the sound of her humming wash over him.
It was soft, almost too quiet to hear, but it cut through the heavy air around him. It wasnโt a song, not reallyโjust a string of notes, absentminded and delicate. But it was hers. The sound wrapped around him, soothed him, even as it stirred something sharp and aching in his chest.
He remembered the first time he saw her.
She had been no more than fifteen, standing in a corner of the Queenโs court. While the others talked and schemed, she stayed quiet, her hands folded neatly, her gaze wandering. She didnโt belong hereโthat much was clear. The nobles were like vultures, circling, waiting for weakness. But sheโฆshe was something else.
She was the Queenโs niece, sent to learn the ways of the court, but her youth set her apart. Her laughter, when it came, was soft and light, like it wasnโt meant to be heard here. Her gaze was open, unguarded in a way that felt almost fragile.
To Ash, she was an impossibility. The world he lived in was rotten, irredeemable, yet here she wasโuntouched by any of it. She was different in a way he couldnโt explain, and from that moment, he couldnโt look away.
It wasnโt love. Not yet. But it was a brewing obsession.
Her purity made her a beacon in a world he had long considered lost. If humanity was doomed to burn in the fires of its sins, she would be the one soul he would save, the one untouched thing he would guard with his life.
But the world was cruel, and the years that followed only sharpened his resolve.
Suitors began to circle her like vultures, drawn to her purity but carrying their own brand of corruption. Ash watched from the shadows, his hatred growing with every passing moment.
When a duke with a reputation for decadence expressed interest in her, Ash destroyed him with a handful of whispered rumors, tarnishing his name so completely that he fled the court in disgrace. When an ambitious viscount pursued her, his carriage mysteriously overturned, leaving him crushed beneath its weight.
Ash never saw it that way, but each intervention just served to fortify his conviction. Every act of devastation was morally righteous to himโa required obligation. He convinced himself that his actions were not self-serving, but rather an attempt towards safeguarding her from the corruption that was everywhere around her. He remained resolute despite the curses that started to swirl around her name. Permit them to talk about tragedy. Let her untouchable presence frighten them. She was the one thing pure in a world full of filth, and it was worth the modest price to keep her that way.
But her purity came at a cost.
When the Queen arranged her engagement to a wealthy, predatory nobleman with a string of ruined wives, Ashโs composure cracked. He abandoned subtlety, orchestrating a scandal so devastating that the engagement was dissolved within days. The man vanished soon after, his fate sealed by Ashโs pulling. A tragedy sealed in a way Ash never mentioned, not even to himself.
It was after this that their paths truly intertwined. The Queen, disturbed by the growing rumors of misfortune and curses around her niece, turned to Ash for protection. She trusted him implicitly, naming him her most loyal servant and assigning him to guard the girl personally.
When she smiled at him for the first time, welcoming him with all the warmth and trust of someone who had no reason to fear him, Ash felt something twist in his chest. Her gaze was as guileless as it had been that first night in the garden, her faith in him unshaken.
And that faith, he told himself, was what mattered most.
Ash devoted himself entirely to her. He walked beside her as she roamed the gardens, listened as she confided her dreams and fears, and watched over her while she slept. She would never know the lengths he went to for herโthe blood spilled, the sins absorbed into his soul, all to keep her untouched by the corruption of the world.
And yet, her purity tormented him.
She never knew the storm she stirred within him.
Once, during a quiet moment together, she had asked him, โDo you think Iโm cursed, Ash?โ
Her question had nearly shattered his carefully constructed mask.
โNo,โ he replied softly, his voice reverent. โThe world cannot bear something so pure, my lady. But you are not cursed. That, I promise you.โ
She had frowned, her gaze searching his face for a moment before softening into a smile.
She trusted him.
Completely.
And that trust was a weight he cherished.
Now, standing before her door, he could feel her presence on the other side. He rested his forehead against the wood, breathing deeply to steady himself. Slowly then, he turned the handle, pushing the door open.
She sat by the window, bathed in moonlight as though the heavens themselves sought to adorn her. To Ash, she looked like a fragment of paradise misplaced in this vile, rotting world. He paused in the doorway, his chest tightening at the sight of her. She was divine, a vision that only confirmed what he had always believed: she wasnโt meant for this earth. She was something higher, purer. Something that only he, in his celestial form, could fully understand.
Her hair fell in soft, shining waves over her shoulders, catching the moonlight as if it were consecrated by its touch. Her hands rested lightly in her lap. Her gaze out at the night sky, her expression serene.
Ash let out a slow breath, his fingers gripping the edge of the doorframe as if anchoring himself. She stirred feelings within him that were both foreign and excruciating. This wasnโt loveโnot in the way humans degraded the concept. No, this was reverence. Adoration. He was captivated not only by her purity but by what she represented: a perfect reflection of heavenโs beauty, unblemished by humanityโs sins.
But there was something else beneath it, something sharper.
As he stood there, his pride surged. He was an angel. A being of light, created to be above mortals. If this world couldnโt appreciate her radiance, if it sought to soil her, then it had proven once again how low it had fallen. That was why she needed him. Not these pathetic humans who trailed after her like beggars at a feast, unaware of their unworthiness. Not the Queen, with her flawed, mortal heart. Only he, Ash, had the strength and the vision to protect her.
She turned then, her eyes meeting his, and his breath caught. Her gaze was soft, welcoming, free of the suspicion and calculation he had come to expect from the world. In her eyes, there was trustโa quiet, unwavering trust that he both craved and loathed. She had no idea what he was capable of, no idea of the lengths he had gone to for her.
But that trust also confirmed what he already knew: he was the only one worthy of her. The only one who could match her light with his own, untainted by human frailty.
As the corner of her lips lifted into a gentle smile, Ash felt an unfamiliar warmth swell in his chest. It wasnโt joyโno, joy was too simple, too mortal. It was vindication.
The world was filthy, yes. But she didnโt have to be. And as long as he stood by her side, he would make sure of it. He would cleanse the darkness, no matter the cost, because she deserved perfection. And he? He was the only one pure enough, divine enough, to deliver it.
โAsh.โ
He stepped inside, closing the door. The lock's click served as the last seal, separating her haven from the dirt that dared to lurk outside. Here, no one could touch her. Here, she was his alone.
โYouโre back,โ she said, rising to meet him. Her smile was gentle, and her steps were unhurried. โYou look exhausted.โ
โItโs nothing, my lady, truly.โ
She moved closer, reaching for his hand without hesitation. Her fingers brushed his, warm and unguarded, and Ash swallowed hard as a shiver ran through him. She was the only light in this world, and her touch carried that same unbearable purity, a warmth he had no right to claim but couldnโt resist.
"Come. You need to rest.โ
He let her lead him to the chaise near the window, her hand small and fragile in his, yet her presence was commanding. She moved with a confidence that left him powerless to resist, though he told himself it wasnโt surrender. He followed because it was her will, and his purpose was to see it fulfilled.
โSit,โ she urged softly.
He obeyed, lowering himself onto the chaise as she knelt beside him. She brushed her fingers lightly through his hair and cheek.
โYou take care of me so much," her gaze soft with something that he could only name as affection. โBut you donโt take care of yourself.โ
"Youโre too good to me."
The words dug deep, sharper than any blade. Too good? He had stepped into the abyss for her and allowed the rot of this world to seep quite into his soul, all so she wouldnโt have to face it. If she only knew the truth, she would recoil in horror. But that didnโt matter. She didnโt need to know.
โYouโre my everything, that would explained why,โ he whispered hoarsely, the admission slipping free before he could stop it.
She hadnโt heard himโor perhaps she chose not to.
But Ash heard it.
And he meant every word.
And if anyone, anything, tried to take her from him, he would burn it all to the ground.
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In which, a woman writes in her diary, recalling the fleeting freedom she once had and the cruel path that led her to be bound to the man who orchestrated her downfall.
March 31st, 1875, Phantomhive Manor
The ink smudges beneath my trembling hand. How ironic it feels to write โdear diaryโ when the truth is, I have no one else to speak to. Writing is all I have left of the freedom I once knew.
Sometimes, I wish I could tear my heart from my chest and bury it. Then perhaps I would stop feeling this ache, this relentless sorrow that Vincent Phantomhive has carved into my soul.
It began so innocently. I can see now how that made it all the more dangerous.
We met at a ball. Not my first, nor my last before society turned its back on me. The ballroom was grand that evening, its chandeliers dripping with golden light, the air buzzing with the chatter of Londonโs elite. I stood with my friends near the edge of the crowd, feeling out of place as I often did among the glittering ranks. They spoke of Vincent then, their voices hushed and eager, weaving stories of his power, his cunning, and the quiet menace behind his charm.
When he appeared, it was as though the air shifted. There was something about him, a command of the space that silenced even the boldest of whispers. He was tall, impeccably dressed, his midnight-blue coat tailored to perfection. But it was his eyes, those piercing blue eyes, that held me captive when he asked for a dance.
โLady (Y/N), may I have the honor of this dance?โ
I should have refused. But something in his tone, in the way he extended his hand, made refusal feel impossible. He led me to the floor, his movements as smooth as his voice, and I found myself falling into his rhythm, into his world. He spoke of small things, Londonโs weather, the elegance of the evening, but beneath it all, there was a quiet potency, a sense that he already knew me far better than he should.
โYou hesitate, my lady," heโd said, his breath brushing my ear. "Do I unsettle you?"
I laughed nervously, denying it, though the truth was written across my face. He was a storm wrapped in silk, and I was unprepared for his power. When the music stopped, he left me with a faint smile and a promise.
โYou dance beautifully, Lady (Y/N),โ he said. โI hope this wonโt be our last.โ
I shake my head now, as though I can dislodge the memory. How foolish I was, to think him charming. To think myself special for having caught his eye.
The past feels like a distant land, one I cannot return to no matter how hard I try. My world is smaller nowโreduced to this room, this child growing within me, and the sound of Vincentโs footsteps echoing through the halls of Phantomhive Manor.
At first, his pursuit was flattering. Letters arrived daily, written in his neat, elegant hand. He was eloquent, thoughtful, and strangely tender. I told myself it was only courtship, the kind every young lady dreams of. But there was always an edge to his words, a quiet pressure that left me breathless for reasons I didnโt understand.
When he proposed, I declined. Gently, of course, believing that honesty would soften the blow. My heart lay with anotherโa scholar whose letters spoke of love and a future I had dared to imagine. I thought Vincent would accept my decision, that a man of his stature would move on without a second thought.
How wrong I was.
The first rumors were subtle, whispered behind fans and over cups of tea. They spoke of impropriety, of whispered trysts that never occurred. Within weeks, they grew sharper, more cutting.
โShe tried to trap him, you know, that Lady Y/N,โ theyโd say. "Climbed into his bed, desperate for marriage. But the Earl is too clever for that."
My friends began to pull away. Invitations stopped arriving. Even the scholarโthe man I thought would stand by me no matter whatโturned his back on me.
โI cannot marry a woman of such reputation," heโd said, his tone colder than Iโd ever imagined. "Your name has becomeโฆ unspeakable."
I didnโt understand then. I couldnโt see how deeply Vincentโs hands were tangled in my downfall until it was too late.
The present feels suffocating as I set my pen down, my fingers aching from the effort. My fever hasnโt broken, and the weight of the child in my belly grows heavier with every passing day.
A knock sounds at the door, soft but deliberate. Vincent steps in, his presence filling the room as though he owns not just the space but the air I breathe.
โYou shouldnโt be up,โ he says, his voice firm but tinged with a false tenderness. Behind him, the butler carries a tray with medicine and water.
I force myself to sit straighter. โI wasnโt up. Just writing.โ
He frowns, his eyes narrowing as they flick to the diary on my bedside table. โWriting wonโt heal you.โ
โIt helps.โ
โYou shouldnโt be writing,โ he murmurs, his voice low as he sets my medicine on the nightstand. โNot when youโre unwell.โ
I glance up at him, silent as his hand finds mine. โRest,โ he says softly. โYou must think of the child. Of our child.โ
The word โourโ hangs in the air like a curse, but I swallow my protests.
Vincent sits beside me, his hand resting lightly on my stomach. His touch is warm, almost tender, and yet it feels like chains binding me to this life I never chose.
โYouโll see,โ he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. โYouโll come to understand that this is whatโs best for you. For us.โ
I close my eyes, the heat of the fever mixing with the weight of his words. He leans closer, his breath brushing my temple as he whispers sweet nothings Iโve heard a hundred times before.
โI love you, (Y/N). Always.โ
A tear slipped down my cheek, followed by another, until they came freely, my shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
I had thought I was choosing freedom. Instead, I had unwittingly invited my destruction.
Desperation gnawed at me like a relentless tide. Every effort I made to clear my name was met with cold indifference or smug pity. The rumors Vincent planted spread like wildfire, leaving no corner of society untouched. Invitations stopped arriving. Friends avoided me with polite smiles that didnโt reach their eyes. Even my father, who had always been so proud, spoke of exile to the countryside to โwait for the scandal to pass,โ though we both knew it never would.
But I couldnโt let it end like that. Not with my name ruined, my life reduced to whispers and sneers. Not when the man responsible still walked free, untouched by the devastation he had wrought.
I arrived at Phantomhive Manor in a storm of grief and anger, though I hadnโt thought of what I would say.
Vincent was waiting for me in his study, a glass of brandy in hand, his smile as sharp as a knife.
โLady Y/N,โ he greeted, his voice warm but laced with unmistakable cruelty. โWhat an unexpected pleasure.โ
My hands balled into fists at my sides. โYou know why Iโm here.โ
Vincent tilted his head, feigning confusion. โDo I? Youโll have to enlighten me.โ
โWhy?โ I demanded, my voice trembling with fury and grief. โWhy would you ruin me? What have I done to deserve this?โ
โYou misunderstand, my dear.โ
โYouโve destroyed my life!โ I spat. โMy friends, my reputationโeverything is gone because of you!โ
His smile widened, his gaze unyielding. โAnd yet, here you are. I suppose that means I havenโt destroyed everything.โ
My breath caught, anger faltering as his words sank in. The implication was clear: he had orchestrated my ruin to force me into submission. And now, he was waiting for me to accept the inevitable.
โWhat do you want from me?โ
Vincent leaned back in his chair, his gaze unwavering.
โI want what Iโve always wantedโyour hand in marriage. Think of it as a solution rather than a punishment. Your reputation will be restored, your position secured. Society will forgive anything when it ends in a love match.โ
I laughed bitterly. โLove? Is that what you call this?โ
โNo,โ he admitted, his smile turning sharp. โBut society will. And isnโt that what matters most to you?โ
I open my eyes now, blinking away the sting of tears as Vincent rises. โIโll return later,โ he says softly, his gaze on me. โRest for now, my dear.โ
The door closes behind him, leaving me alone once more. Alone with my thoughts, my regrets, and the child growing within me.
There was no escape from Vincentโs game.
He had orchestrated everything so perfectly, so cruelly, that resistance became futile.
My father demanded I accept his proposal, my scholar abandoned me, and society shunned me entirely. In the end, I stood in that parlor, trembling as Vincent knelt before me with a ring in his hand.
โYouโve made the right choice," heโd said when I accepted, his smile triumphant.
But it wasnโt a choice. It was surrender.
I pick up my pen again, but the words wonโt come. Perhaps tomorrow Iโll find the strength to write again.
For now, I close the diary, its pages heavy with the weight of my unspoken truths.
That in his twisted game, there is never an escape.
greetings ! i'm aware you are packed atm but once you have the time in the future could you possibly write a Yandere Ash Landers ( black butler ) with a human reader ? the thought is , while he thinks the rest of humanity is damned , he clings to the only soul he deems worthy . if not it is fine , i dont want to overwhelm !! pls take care !!
I was actually thinking about writing the same idea but with a different character, haha! But sure! I just hope I can finish and publish it around December 20-25
With only their promises missing to seal their fates, he believed that love, like the ripening of fruit, should not be rushed. But in his trust, he missed the dangerโthe fatal delight of waiting too long. When he finally bit into that apple, it revealed its bitter core; a poisoned sweetness laced with regret. He saw it then, her eyes askew, a gleam now shining for someone new. And all his tender waiting soured as truth struck hard in that dark hour: his love, once whole, had turned instead as fragile as bruised fruit gone dead.
The story contains a portrayal of manipulations, intent to kill, and many more topics considered taboo by the polite society. All the characters will have their age adjusted to 18 and above. Do read at your own risk.ย
๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐,
The youngest Phantomhive has now reached her rightful years. With Ciel away, Sebastian is entrusted with watching over her as ordered, especially as the young beauty begins to attract the interest of numerous suitors.
Yet, as the demon dutifully guards her, he finds himself drawn to her in a way he cannot ignore. Though he denies the existence of any emotion, his actions betray him as each suitor tries to woo her.
In a love spawned from forbidden deeds, he forsakes all, abandoning everything to draw close to him. Veiled in deceit, he trades his prized feather for a fruit both divine and forbidden, and united, hidden in spiteful lies that they embrace the sin woven by their boundless love.
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Summary: She always thought the summoning was a big hoaxโuntil, before her very eyes, stood a man. And as he stays around, she gets drawn into a world of dark secrets and unexpected truths that challenge everything she believed.
๐๐๐๐ ๐
The winter was cold and brutal, with the streets of the town glistening under a thin sheet of ice that covered the cobblestones. The wind was bitter and stinging against the skin in the moonlit city. It was January, and the cold air remained firmly over the capital city. Even during the darkest nights, there was still life stirring through the slumbering hours, when many had already drifted off to sleep. In the shadows, patrons of taverns and brothels, night workers, street dwellers, and vagrants moved quietly, away from the gaze of those who walked by day.
Drunken laughter echoed loudly in the streets as the gas lamps flickered their yellow glow onto the frost and ice below. A man, heavily intoxicated, emerged from his favored tavern, leaning heavily on the shoulder of his steadfast companion. He staggered, barely able to remain upright without the support. His speech was slurred, a jumble of sounds not unlike the exhausted grunts and groans of mill workers at the end of their shift. Amid his ramblings, he spoke of visiting a brothel for a rendezvous with "a soiled dove."
As they continued their unsteady journey home through the cloaked night, the drunken man's eyes caught sight of an orange hue painting the sky in the distance. He squinted, trying to focus through his inebriation, and then pointed with a wavering hand and slurred voice.
"Look yonder... fire... over there," he mumbled, struggling to form the words.
"You've had too much to drink, old chap. Thereโs no fire, just the gas lamps."
"Nay, truly... look!"
The sober one rolled his eyes but followed the direction his friend was pointing. At first, he saw nothing unusual, just the usual shadows and flickering lamplight. He was about to dismiss it entirely when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a faint, eerie red hue. It wasnโt the steady glow of a gas lamp but a flickering, pulsating light.
He turned his head more deliberately and saw it clearly nowโan ominous glow reflecting off the frost-covered streets, illuminating their path in a way that was unmistakably unnatural. Smoke billowed upward, thick and dark, mingling with the night sky.
"Good heavens, youโre right," he muttered, his voice now tinged with alarm. "Something is indeed ablaze."
Their eyes soon met the sight of raging flames under the darkened sky, the fire's sinister dance casting long, twisting shadows over the cobblestones. The once faint glow had now grown into a monstrous blaze, consuming everything in its path with relentless ferocity. The air was thick with the acrid smell of burning wood and the mournful cries of those caught in the infernoโs merciless grip.
The sober manโs breath quickened as he took in the sight. โDear Lord, the entire district is aflame!โ
Crackle
Massive waves of orange, red, and white flames rolled through the night, wreaking havoc with a ferocity that felt almost alive. The inferno swallowed everything it touched, its heat so intense that the very air seemed to shimmer and warp. Smoldering embers snapped and popped as charred buildings crumbled, collapsing onto streets now strewn with lifeless bodies. Thick, gray smoke billowed into the sky, suffocating the stars and turning the night into a bleak, ashen wasteland. Snowflakes, delicate and pure, melted instantly upon meeting the fire's scorching breath, evaporating into nothingness in the midst of the chaos.
Piercing screams of agony filled the air, cutting through the night with a haunting clarity. These cries, carried on the wind, could be heard for miles, a tragic symphony that spoke of the disaster consuming the town. People who had gone to bed expecting the usual tranquility of their slumber were jolted awake, their hearts gripped by fear and sorrow as they realized the scale of the calamity.
Efforts to combat the blaze were tragically futile. Buckets of water and shovelfuls of sand were swallowed by the voracious flames, offering no more resistance than drops of rain on a raging sea. The fire devoured all in its path, leaving behind only smoldering ruins, twisted metal, and bodies burned beyond recognition. Firefighters and volunteers worked frantically, their faces streaked with soot and despair, knowing their efforts were in vain against such an unstoppable force.
And there she lay, pinned under a burning column that had fallen from what was once her home. The weight crushed her slowly, mercilessly, while the intense heat seared her back, making her skin crackle and blister. She tried to scream, but only a weak, muffled cry escaped her lips as the scorching stone pressed deeper into her flesh. Her fingers dug into the dirt, the pain so excruciating it blurred her vision, making the world around her seem like a hellish dream. Lifeless bodies were scattered around her, their faces frozen in expressions of terror and agony, a sight so horrifying it churned her stomach.
Her home, once a sanctuary filled with love and laughter, was now reduced to a smoldering ruin. Flames licked at the remnants of walls and furniture, casting eerie shadows that danced in the fiery glow. The air was thick with smoke, each breath a struggle as it seared her lungs and filled her mouth with the taste of ash. She could feel herself weakening, the fight slowly draining out of her.
Desperation clawed at her heart; she didnโt want to die here, not like this.
With wheezy, shallow breaths, she sucked in the smoky, polluted air, her hands digging into the cold, rocky soil. Her home was annihilated, reduced to rubble and ash. Her parents were among the many distorted, scorched carcasses buried beneath fallen bricks, crumbled support beams, and flickering cinders atop dead trees. They were now completely unrecognizable, their identities lost to the flames. She couldn't even mourn their loss, for she had no way of knowing which charred remains were theirs.
Her belongings, now ablaze, were strewn all around the flaming estate. As she lay trapped like a bird in a cage, consumed by blinding agony, her mind wandered back to the tranquility of the morning. Just a few hours ago, her maid had woken her as usual, dressed her, and informed her that her parents were waiting in the greenhouse for breakfast. She had gone downstairs, chatted with her family, picked flowers with her mother, and played chess with her father. She then read peacefully in the library and petted her favorite black cat. The simplicity and beauty of that ordinary morning felt like a distant dream now, swallowed by the nightmarish reality of the fire.
Her lungs filled with black ash and smoke, causing her to cough violently and spit out droplets of blood. Multiple times, she had tried to call out for help, even though her voice was nearly gone. She still attempted to strive to live, driven by an instinctive will to survive. She could scream all night long, hoping against hope that someone might hear her. Yet, her cries would be drowned out by the cacophony of despair from others, all lost in their own agonies throughout the blazing town. Her pleas, though heartfelt, seemed futile amidst the overwhelming devastation.
Coughing yet again in another wild fit, she brought her hand to her mouth. Her weak breaths were labored and heavy as her senses began to wear out. Through her stinging, drooping sky-blue eyes, she noticed a ghastly dark figure striding toward her. It looked sinister, devious, and blood-curdling enough to kill someone with just one look. Its vivid, emotionless crimson eyes fell upon her, and it was shrouded in black.
She couldnโt see its body clearly, but she saw its heel-adorned feet, black clawed hands, and sharp teeth that glistened like fresh snow as it smirked devilishly.
"Are you... the Grim Reaper?" the girl managed to rasp out, her voice hoarse and weak. Despite the dark creature looming over her, she felt a desperate need for salvation. She didnโt know what it was, but she clung to the hope that it might save her.
Silence hung in the air.
"I heard... tales of you," she continued, her words barely more than a whisper.
"No, child. I am not the Grim Reaper," it replied, its voice smooth and haunting. "I am a Demon."
"Are you here to claim my soul?" she asked, her voice trembling.
The demon chuckled softly. "Your soul does smell delightful, little one. But I find no interest in a soul that lacks experience. How would you like a boon from me instead?"
Her heart pounded in her chest as she stared at the demon. "A boon? Why would you grant me a boon?"
"Because, child, even in your darkest moments, there are choices. I can offer you something to ease your suffering. In exchange, of course."
She swallowed hard, wincing at the pain in her throat. "What... what sort of boon?"
The demon's smile widened. "A chance to alter your fate."
"But... what would you require of me in return?"
The demon's voice grew softer, almost soothing. "A simple thing, really. A promise that one day, when you are ready, you shall perform a task for me. A favor, to be named later."
"A favor? What manner of favor?"
The demon shrugged, a casual gesture that seemed out of place given the circumstances. "That is for me to decide when the time comes. But I assure you, it shall be within your power to fulfill."
She looked around at the devastationโthe burning ruins of her home, the lifeless bodies of her family. Her voice was filled with desperation.
"And if I refuse?"
The demon's expression darkened slightly. "Then you shall perish here, in agony. Your soul will pass into the next world, and your suffering will end. But know this, childโevery choice has its price."
Tears mingled with the soot on her cheeks as she closed her eyes. The pain was unbearable, the loss overwhelming. But the thought of a future, a chance to live, even at such a terrible cost...
"I... I do not wish to die."
The demon's smile returned, its fangs gleaming in the firelight. "Then we are agreed?"
She nodded weakly. "Yes. I agree."
The demon extended a clawed hand, and as she reached out to grasp it, a strange warmth began to spread through her body, easing the pain and filling her with a newfound strength.
"Remember, child," the demon said softly, its voice echoing in her mind. As she watched, his form began to dissolve, the shadows around him swirling and thickening. The firelight flickered violently, casting eerie shadows that danced on the smoldering ruins. The demon's body seemed to meld with the smoke from the fire, the dark tendrils of his form intertwining with the ash-laden air. His presence became one with the chaos, a swirling mass of darkness and flame.
The smoke and shadow rose up, coiling and spiraling through the inferno, before dispersing into the night, leaving behind a lingering chill that contrasted sharply with the heat of the flames.
I have a question and I really hope it doesn't make you uncomfortable-
Are you open to writing for Mei Mei(jjk)? And if so, do you write for WLW?
I'm so sorry if my ask made you uncomfortable, there just aren't a lot of Mei Mei fics nor do I usually ever se writers that have included Mei Mei as someone they write for-
Have a wonderful day
-Yui
No problem! I would love to write a story for her someday but at the moment I need to finish first all the previous request! I hope youโll let me mention you if ever I already wrote a story for her!
๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐, the newly wedded Duchess finds herself entangled with the Earl, and both become prisoners of an intense, forbidden love. And as their commitment to an affair becomes inescapable, what dreadful sin will they further commit for the sake of living in their desire?
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐
"ARE YOU CERTAIN YOU HAVE TO GO?"
The woman probed, speaking with a tone of concern.
A stunning woman, like to the budding springtime flowers, appeared before her spouse. She was putting her husband's neckwear in place, her deft fingertips constantly gliding over the fine lace and elaborate designs. The evident concern shown in the furrow of her forehead could not be concealed by her graceful motions.
With a heavy sigh, she pressed her lips together, biting down on the inside of her cheeks in a futile attempt to quell the turmoil within.
The rain outside their window was torrential, with intermittent flashes of lightning illuminating the dark sky. Each flash was accompanied by a thunderous roar. The wind, which was so fierce that it threatened to uproot trees, reflected her intense concern for her husband and his upcoming travel in her eyes. He looked into her eyes and could see plainly what was bothering her. She was aware of the risks involved with marriage, though, and she accepted that she would be unable to prevent him from carrying out his obligations.
She placed her hand in front of her gown and stepped back a few inches to allow the butler to do his job. Her ocean-blue eyes framed by her lashes glanced nervously at the trees surrounding the estate, their branches swaying violently in the storm. She sighed softly through her rosette lips.
"The roads will surely be slippery, not to mention dangerous in this weather," she remarked, her gaze shifting to her husband.
He was being assisted by their head butler, who was helping him don his heavy traveling coat and gather his belongings. The butler, a tall and stoic man, moved with practiced efficiency, his hands steady even as the house groaned under the pressure of the storm outside.
As the butler excused himself from the room, Vincent walked up to his wife, placing his hand gently upon her shoulder. His eyes met hers, recognizing the concern drowning them.
"This is extremely crucial, dear. Just wish me safety, and I'll return after a few months," he stated, soothingly rubbing her shoulder. His fingers grazed her cheek in a tender gesture, trailing it with his fingertips. His touch was warm and reassuring, a stark contrast to the cold dread she felt inside, almost like a home in the storm. "Is there anything you desire when I come back?"
"Merely your safety, dear," she replied softly, her lips curling upward lovingly, though her voice hinted at the underlying anxiety nipping at her inside.
They shared loving smiles.
Creak
As they exited their room and proceeded down the lengthy hallway, the sound of their weighty shoes reverberated on the extravagant carpet. Rachel trailed a few steps behind Vincent as his head butler met him once more and assisted him in handling his sole remaining possession. The pictures of their forefathers lined the long, opulent hallway, their stern gazes seemed to follow them as they went past. The mood that was growing gloomy was heightened by the low lights that lined the walls of the estate and lighted their way.
The butler calmly stated, "The carriage has been readied, my lord."
"Very well."
They hurried through the hallways and descended the grand staircase. Upon reaching the foyer, they were greeted by a few more butlers and maids. The staff bowed with reverence, their expressions serious as they recognized the significance of the travel Vincent was about to embark on. Feeling anxious, Rachel watched as the butler gave Vincent his belongings to take with him.
Vincent saw Rachel's worried expression as he approached her once more. With her curls framing her face wonderfully, he caressed her cheek tenderly in his palms, his thumbs removing a stray tear that had escaped.
"I'll be on my way now, my dear. Do frown no further," he reassured her, briefly hugging his wife and kissing her forehead. "You'll get to see me very soon."
His lips lingered on her skin, as she closes her eyes in the spell of his warmth. He then entered the carriage, the door closing behind him with a finality that made Rachel's heart ache. She stood at the door, waving goodbye as the carriage set off, the wheels crunching over the gravel driveway.
Rattle
The horses neighed, and the sound of the wheels on the drenched cobblestone was evident inside the carriage. Within the shadowy confines of the carriage, a figure lingered. Vincent leaned back against the plush seat, his mind already turning to the tasks ahead as he discerned the form of someone enjoying leisure time inside.
"How is it going?" he asked sternly, his voice cutting through the quiet.
As he listened to the rain pouring upon the sheltered carriage, he watched the figure lean forward, his grin widening. The figure shifted slightly, revealing more of his features as the dim light from outside flickered through the window. His long gray hair was barely illuminated by the street lamps they occasionally passed by, making his features difficult to discern. However, as green eyes glinted in the dim light, the response came.
"The delivery was certainly successful, Lord Phantomhive," the deep baritone voice replied with amusement.
โYou'll be in glee the moment you lay your eyes on them.โ
Note: O!Ciel will temporarily assume the name Sirius until his real name is revealed by Yana Toboso.
Credit for @dhktlq for the art and @cafekitsune for the divider.
๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐, a promising young man earns himself an unhealthy obsession towards the sister of his wife, who was too married to someone else already.
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐
THE SKY, FRAMED BEAUTIFULLY BY DRIFTING CLOUDS,ย
captivated the eye with its splendor. It was a joyful morning, warm and soothing under the sun's gentle touch after yesterday's rain, which left dew upon the garden's flowers.
A young boy stood by the window, his hand resting on the carved corner as his blue eyes gazed downward at the mansion's serene surroundings. In the meticulously tended garden below, his brother, who shared his complexion, played cheerfully with their cousin, whose golden hair gleamed in the sunlight. Nearby, their mother, Rachel Phantomhive, watched over them with a warm smile, while their father, Vincent Phantomhive, occasionally joined in their games. In sharp contrast to Sirius's previous illness, which had kept him confined to the mansion under the cautious eyes of the butler and maid, the atmosphere was one of laughter and joy. It was only recently that his illness worsened to the point where his parents and others started to fear for his health. Thus, they imprisoned him within the opulent walls of their house.
As he watched the heartwarming scene, Elizabeth's sisterโthough considered a twin, bore no resemblance to herโwalked up to him quietly, her soft footsteps silent against the carpeted floor. She joined him by the window, watching the joyful scene below, prompting him to turn his head slowly to face her, observing her gaze as it wandered downward.
She leaned against the windowsill beside him, her gaze drifting to the scene outside.
"You've been watching them," she mused.
His breath caught slightly. Even at a young age, he had always perceived the girl beside him as ethereal, almost like an angel from the books he read in his leisure time. Her soft-spoken manner and angelic appearance only heightened this impression. When her dreamy and kind eyes met his, a gentle smile played on her lips, and with the sunlight reflecting upon her, she appeared to be the brightest star in the darkened sky.
"Feeling better, Sirius?" she asked, her voice as soothing as a gentle breeze.
Sirius nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from her. "Yes, thank you. Much better."
Silence followed. He watched her eyes again, following her gaze as it drifted to the scene below, where her sister Elizabeth waved at the window with Ciel smiling beside her.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, observing her respond to her sister with a wave and a lovely curl of her lips. "Don't you want to play with your sister and my brother?"
"I wanted to check up on you."
Sirius nodded his head faintly, his eyes still fixed on the lively scene below. He seemed lost in thought, his expression unreadable. Sensing his quietude, she gently took his hand, her touch soft but insistent. His brows furrowed slightly in confusion, yet he followed her, his steps tentative as they moved away from the window.
"Where are we going?" he queried guilelessly, his voice barely above a whisper. But she offered no answer, only a determined look as she continued to lead the way.
"You might want to hear what my mother and father have been talking about recently."
Their footsteps echoed softly as they walked down the wide hallway of the Phantomhive estate. The walls were adorned with ornate family portraits, their eyes seemingly watching as the pair passed by. She led him to the kitchen, with its heavy wooden door standing at the end of the hall. With a firm knock, they were greeted by a maid, her apron pristine and her demeanor polite.
"Good afternoon, Miss Midford," the maid said, curtsying with practiced grace. "How may I assist you?"
Y/N held her hand steady behind her and grinned innocently at the maid.
"We'd like a bit of sweet, as ordered by my aunt," she requested smoothly, her voice carrying an air of confidence. Meanwhile, Sirius hid just out of sight against the wall, straining to hear her words.
The maid nodded, then hurriedly put together a little platter of sweets. Y/N and Sirius grinned mischievously as they headed to the garden after receiving their prizeโa little thing they did whenever the two were in the presence of each other. They took a seat on a bench among a riot of flowers that were in full bloom, their hues dazzling in the midday heat. When Sirius reached for one of the candies she had offered, their fingers briefly touched, giving him a little shudder.
They dined in friendly silence, the only sound coming from the faint chirping of birds in the distance. With her hands gently holding the muffin, Sirius observed her with immense fascination as she finished it.
Finally, he broke the silence, his tone curious and innocent.
"What is it, then, that you've heard from your parents?" he asked, his eyes never leaving her as she licked the last crumbs from her fingers.
Every time she was nearby, an emotion he couldn't quite place filled his heart. She embodied what he found admirable.
Her cheeks blushed subtly as she asked, "Did you know that Mother and Father have promised me to you? To be your fiancรฉe?" Her tone was almost secretive.
He was unable to resist grinning at the excitement her words caused to run through him.
Sirius's eyes widened in surprise. "Truly?"
She nodded, a shy smile gracing her lips. "Truly, I'm glad, you know. And it means we can spend the day playing; maybe even have sleepovers endlessly."
Her comments caused a sensation of warmth to rise in his chest, and the thought of spending endless playtime with her delighted him. The rustle of foliage and the distant buzzing of bees blended with their laughter as it reverberated across the yard. The world beyond their small cocoon vanished as they spoke and played.
For a moment, everything seemed perfect; the future was bright and full of promise.
But fate had other plans.
An accident occurred, one that shattered their peaceful world and changed everything around them.
Sirius was declared dead along with his parents, and Ciel was the lone survivor of the Phantomhive family, leaving the engagement between Sirius and Y/N broken.
This story depicts themes of obsessiveness, possessiveness, insanity, and other immoral behavior that some readers may find detestable. Despite these themes, the author does not endorse or encourage any of the following actions that portray voilence.
A young woman was deceived by a man who had been turned into a poor child by a spell. With her conscience at odds with her intuition, she found herself ensnared in his web of lies.
The more she fought in vain to escape, the deeper she fell, sealing her fate.
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Despite its theme, this story does not glorify any acts of violence or any other form of immoral act. I am writing this story for the enjoyment of the series and its theme, not to glorify any cruel or immoral acts.
A naive young witch found herself in deep trouble when her spell fell to shambles, and her world turned to rubble.
Trapped in hell with no way to return, she wondered if she should truly be worried or set aside her concern, as a certain demon had promised to aid her quest.
But was it truly help, or simply a trick to keep her oppressed?
THE TRANQUIL EMBRACE OF A WINTER DAWN had settled upon the waning dimness, suffusing the surroundings with an otherworldly serenity. The air bore a constant chill, a gentle caress of frosty breath that enshrouded everything in a delicate, wintry embrace. Snowflakes, resembling graceful dancers, descended from the heavens with an almost poetic grace, their feathery touch turning the landscape into a canvas of shimmering white.
In perfect harmony with the surrounding palette, two silhouettes took center stage amidst this breathtaking winter day. They ventured forth into the wintry wonderland, guided by a pact made days prior to seize the opportunity this free day presented. Their goal was simple: to embrace the natural playground before them, crafting snowballs and snowmen just as they had in their youthful years.
Stretching out as far as the eye could wander, a mesmerizing landscape unfolded, as if painted by nature itself. Each tree branch was adorned with glistening snow. Stoic fence posts donned a layer of snow, like soft woolen scarves hugging them closely. The rooftops, pristine and unmarred, resembled enchanted cottages straight from dreams. Amidst the hushed silence, their laughter echoed through the atmosphere, lost in the unfettered joy of the present.
With the first rays of sunlight peeking over the horizon, the blend of cool white tones and tender morning light created a visual masterpiece that touched the soul. The relentless march of time couldn't weaken their unshakeable bond. Even with the demands and responsibilities of adulthood, their deep-rooted friendship remained as carefree and joyful as it was in their youth whenever they were together.
Their connection held a pure, untainted essenceโan unspoken agreement of unwavering trust and mutual understanding that wrapped them in a blanket of security and profound comfort. As they played in the pristine snow, their unchecked joy and contentment lifted their spirits, bringing back the pure pleasures of childhood. Together, they relived those simple moments, marveling at the winter wonderland around them.
Y/N and Satoru continued their walk along the snow-covered path, enveloped in pervasive calm and tranquility. Satoru, walking ahead with a playful air of superiority, maintained a distance from Y/N, teasing her about how frustrating it would be if he had a shorter leg, clearly intending to provoke irritation. His remark earned a soft scoff from Y/N, her expression a blend of irritation and amusement.
Despite the biting winter chill, Y/N pressed on, her hands wrapped in hand-knitted gloves that provided little warmth. As she followed Satoru, her gaze was drawn to his lips, tinted deep red from the cold, his teasing words delivered with a glint of glee in his captivating ocean-blue eyes. The sound of his playful taunts broke the fragile stillness around them.
On the contrary, Y/N, finding silence a more enjoyable response to his snarky remarks, remained acutely attuned to the picturesque scenery enveloping her. She drew deep, invigorating inhalations of the frigid air, allowing the wintry essence to invigorate her senses. As Satoru persisted in his tiresome and somewhat juvenile antics, Y/N merely shook her head in a gesture of resignation, her lips curving into a faint chuckle in response to his predictable yet somewhat irksome behavior. However, when a group of children caught her eye, joyfully frolicking in the snow in the distance, a playful inspiration seized her. With a sly grin dancing across her features, she sought to capture Satoru's attention for her scheme, calling out to him with unbridled eagerness. Yet, the obstinate Satoru remained unmoved, his demeanor radiating insolent disregard as he continued to saunter forward.
Gliding forward, her gloved hands dipped into the snow that embraced the ground, shaping it into a ball. With a firm flick of her wrist, Y/N playfully propelled a snowball in Satoru's direction, expecting his swift evasion guided by his preternatural reflexes. Yet, in her next throw, Y/N expertly launched a snowball with pinpoint accuracy that caught Satoru off guard, connecting squarely with his face and causing the snow to cling tenaciously to his white locks.
Thump
A melodious chuckle escaped from Y/N's throat as she observed the fleeting expression of surprise on Satoru's countenance. Her amusement was palpable, and he couldn't help but mirror her infectious smile.
However, Satoru was not one to be outdone. Swiftly sculpting a snowball, he hurled it toward Y/N. He reveled in the satisfying thud as it made contact, sending her tumbling backward into the fluffy snow. His laughter echoed through the crisp air, but it was short-lived, dissipating abruptly when he noticed Y/N's lack of response.
A furrow appeared on Satoru's brows, his features etched with concern, yet he maintained a smirk as he approached Y/N cautiously. "Come on, don't tell me you've grown weak."
Drawing nearer, he discerned the subtle rise and fall of her chest.
"Hey, don't tell me that your defenses can crumble so easilyโ" His words halted as Y/N sprang into action. The moment he drew closer, her movements were deft and nimble as she hurled a snowball at him, hitting him squarely in the face.
"Got'cha!" she exclaimed triumphantly.
Satoru's reaction was swift, yet not quick enough to evade the masterfully aimed snowball. He stood there, momentarily stunned, before a wry grin gradually spread across his face as he shook the snow from his hair.
"You got me good," he quipped, his tone light and playful, expressing his admiration for Y/N's skill and cunning. "But, you still need some lessons from the master."
The two reveled in their playful snowball fight, chasing each other across the snow-clad ground, laughter echoing in the crisp air. Satoru finally tackled her to the ground, with her still refusing to admit defeat.
As Satoru gazed down at Y/N, a wave of adoration washed over him, concealed behind his playful yet disappointed expression. He battled the urge to let his gaze linger in the depths of her eyes, where emotions swirled fiercelyโa tempestuous blend of joy and sorrow that seemed poised to consume him. Succumbing to instinct, he extended his hand to assist her to her feet.
However, his breath hitched as his gaze was immediately drawn to a glimmering ring adorning her finger. The glove that had been removed from her hand when she accepted his offered assistance had unveiled this sight, causing a sharp constriction in his heart.
Fixated on the ring, he stood frozen while his thoughts raced through the implications.
"An engagement ring?"
Y/N's tender smile calmed Satoru's tumultuous thoughts, though turmoil still churned within his heart, impossible to ignore.
"It was meant as a surprise," she revealed. "But I suppose you beat us to it."
Satoru's mind was a chaotic whirl of conflicted emotions, his heart gripped by intense anguish. The searing pain threatened to overwhelm him, yet somehow, he found himself smiling despite the torment that gripped his soul.
With a forced cheer, his voice wavering slightly, he ventured, "So, Suguru finally... proposed to you?"
Y/N's affectionate gaze melted his defenses, her eyes shimmering with warmth.
"Yes," she affirmed, her fingers tenderly caressing the delicate ring on her finger. "I even considered proposing to him instead, given the time it took for him to make his proposal."
Satoru's heart swelled with a bittersweet mixture of emotions. Skillfully, he masked his true feelings behind a facade of conviviality.
"Well, you can't blame him, considering how stubborn you are. I'd have a hard time deciding if I were in his shoes," he declared, his words carefully masking the storm of emotions he felt. Pinching both her cheeks, he added, "Maybe I would even ditch you, eh, who knows."
"Luckily, he's not you." Y/N playfully punched him on the chest, her radiant smile growing wider, her eyes sparkling with genuine affection. "Or I'd have endless headaches throughout our married life."
Satoru smiled sadly.
"I'm truly happy for both of you."
"Thank you," she replied, her voice suffused with unbridled happiness. "I truly couldn't ask for more."
โI'm sure you'll find the right one for you soon enough.โ
