#knight caleb

[militaryapple]

A KNIGHT'S OATH

synposis. it has been many moons since you have lost your love, your knight. until one day he comes back, and shows you that he's here to stay.

cw. cunnilingus, p in v (stay safe girliepops), oral (reviving), lwk kinda angsty, oh knight caleb how i miss thee, hes a pretty chill guy, hi knightly caleb! here to save our hearts and - oh..

add ons. kinda sucked with this one sorry to let u guys down </3 hopefully u guys enjoy the smut still very plot heavy too ah.. i will fall in love with you over and over again also writing in like.. medieval times is LWKK HARD DONT GAG ME

wc. 3.9k

it was finally time to find a husband. you couldn’t delay your mother any longer, a princess cannot go so long without being wed. it was something you didn’t look forward to at all, something you wanted to hide away from. marriage. your heart felt heavy, and you curled into your bed.

you felt as if the world seemed crumble, any other soon - to - be child would be thrilled to get married. have children and rule an entire kingdom with one they shall call their husband for eternity, yet it didn’t feel right. maybe it was because your mother was trying to get you wed to some prince in a well off kingdom, or how unhappy you would be in such marriage.

yet those were not the reasons you felt such sadness. your hands made their way to your head, and your eyes began to swell due to the mere thought of why you felt so upset, so alone, so empty.

you had missed your knight, your darling knight so dearly.

muffled cries came out of you, your face red and puffed. oh how you missed him, how you loathed him for leaving you alone in such a world. how could he do this to you? if it was any other lowly girl, he wouldn’t have left in such a manner. without a trace — anything.

your heart was heavy remembering how your guard left. how one day, he was gone without a trace. how you had asked around your castle to hear the sighs of nearby guards or the scowls of your maids on how you should keep out of peasant business. a day where you realized fairly quickly, he was not to come back to your kingdom.

many moons have passed since this, many nights of sobbing in your chambers, waiting. waiting for a letter, a call, a man to come back into your arms to assure you that no matter what, he would never leave your side again, he was to not let you get hurt once more. "you will be alright, your highness." was what he would whisper to you before you hid away in your chambers from the world that asked so much of you.

you were naive, foolish. your mother should have you as her own personal jest for even believing that one day you were to marry the knight you fell so stupidly in love with. how could you let yourself get this silly? what witch had cursed your mind of the plague you called love? you must put yourself together. you are royalty, not a village girl. there are reputations you must uphold.

you sniffled, wiping your tears. no amount of sobs, pleads and cries will bring him back to you. no matter how much you beg to the gods above, to the stars and heavens, he was to not see you again. you had to accept this, move on. you were to be queen, and queens do not let love - no. emotions, get in the way of how they rule their kingdoms.

getting up, you had called for your maid. was moving on always this hard? was leaving the person you truly loved behind this disheartening? was your heart not ready to move on after so much ache? your mind flooded, it was scary. new. you haven't felt such ways in so long. the sound of your chamber doors whisked you out of the hole you called your mind.

it was your maid, she was here to dress you for the ball today. you stood, making your way to the folding screen and moving so she could dress you properly. "your highness," the woman whispered. "you shall't ask for that lowly knight anymore after this day, do you understand?" she had huffed out, fixing your corset before patting your skirt down and fluffing it out.

you nodded, silently. biting down on your lips as you held your tongue. she's always known what was best for you — she was your mothers old maid after all, so she knew best. the woman moved back, examining you. "oh dear," she said softly, putting her hands together and wiping away her tears. "you look.. perfect." she moved towards you, embracing you tightly.

you couldn't help but let out a stifled sob. the woman letting out a small "oh," before patting your head. "i know," she coo'd to you. her hands going from the crown of your head down to the end of it. "i thought, we were going to get married," you sobbed out, returning her touch.

the woman hitched her breath in, her hands now bringing themselves to your face and looking down at you. "you sound like your mother when she was younger," the woman chuckled softly, wiping your tears with her thumb. "if he was yours truly, he would find you no matter what, but alas he is not here. you are. you must proceed with your duties without him, it is time for you to become a woman. no longer shall you be a girl after this day." her hands were warm, and her gaze was like watching a sun set over the great horizons.

you could only nod in agreement, letting her finish on your hair and makeup. soon the woman was out of your chambers and gone in the quarter hallways of your palace. moving towards your mirror you couldn't help but look at yourself. oh how you longed for the man that was gone. the knight holding you closely, whispering sweet nothing's in your ear as he stared at you in the reflection. beauty, such natural beauty he saw in you, and in your imperfections.

letting out a deep sigh, you finally left your sleeping quarters, moving down the hall. your back straightened and head held high. another man, in the back following closely behind you. though, instead of laughing with the guard. smiling and looking back, you walked. forward. your face; straight and your heart heavy. you felt empty.

it wasn't until you had finally found your mother, her arms opening out to you as you embraced her. "darling, good news, we have found you a suitor! prince zayne!" she said, her arms opening wide out to your castle. you cringed. you've heard of him before. the stone cold prince who cared for no one, and only focused on the economy of his kingdom. he seemed as if he didn't care for love, like he didn't care for his future. yet, you stayed silent. "wonderous news, mother." you said softly avoiding her gaze.

"good, you shall dance with him tonight, do you understand? the final dance is reserved for both you and him." she turned to you, fixing your dress that had moved due to the walking. "smile dear, you shall rule over the world you know of now. the people need you, the people need a king." the words making you turn away.

she fell silent, your mother stepping away from you, not pressing the subject any further.

you had a duty, not a dream.

the night had fallen over the kingdom, darkness engulfing the second and third floor of your castle. your body sat still next to your mother as she encouraged you to go and make talk with the people who had danced around your ballroom. yet you didn't want to do that, you didn't want to do anything.

your eyes followed the people who moved, who swayed and spun around in happiness. yes, right. a day for you, for your wedding that is to be announced soon tonight. before you got up, a tall frame appeared in front of you. you looked up, seeing prince zayne. his hand out, waiting for you. reluctantly you grabbed his hand and followed down the stairs with him.

your arm wrapped around him, your hands intertwining with his. the music making you both sway so slowly. the prince leaned down, whispering in your ear. "we are to be engaged." he said softly. you shriek at the sound of it. "i know," you replied, the words coming out like a heavy weight on your chest. "you must know, as my wife, we shall't sleep in the same bed until your days or reproduction." his words were cold, you guess the rumors that floated around were true.

he spun you, your dress twirling before you latched back on to him, your face now shriveled up in disgust. "we shall't sleep together at all your royal highness." you muttered out "if we shall be wed, i shall wed with a man i love. you are not convincing me enough." your words cut through him like a knife, his interest in you piquing.

"our children will know of our loveless marriage, our kingdoms rely on both safety and security. the security you can give and the safety I can lie down." his words made you shiver, you so desperately wanted to push him away, yet all eyes were on you.

zayne noticed your unease. how your steps followed uneven with his — how you looked as if you have been shot with an arrow. he sighed before pulling away and bowing to you, speaking loudly. "apologies to cut this short your highness, yet i must go. hopefully you can save me a dance for another time." and with that, he was gone. your heart bubbled, and your eyes swelled. you ran.

you ran as fast as you could. it was all too much! marriage? unhappy children? a bleak life with a kingdom you will no longer have any urge to live for? not to mention your soon - to - be husband is a man who will take control and leave you with little to none! oh how you couldn't contain your sadness any longer, you've bottled up for so long just for it to pour out in a singular afternoon.

you ran to your chambers, the only safe area that allowed you comfort. your dress falling with you as you hit the ground the moment your door shut with you inside. the darkness swallowing you whole while you sobbed. you missed him, your knight, your love, your everything. yet he was not here, and you were to be wed to a man who cares not if you lived or died!

you were angry, upset and frustrated. you managed to wiggle yourself out of the dress that weighed you down and put on a more comfortable dress, breaking down bit by bit.

the quietness allowed your sobs to echo throughout your bedroom. your heart hurt and your body ached. it wasn’t until you heard ‘knock knock’ at your door. you sighed, wiping your face before getting up and sighing on your end of the wall. “i cannot come out this instant,” you said trying to keep your voice up. “return to me once the sun has risen.” you turned to walk away.

“has her royalness forgotten about me already?”

your eyes widen, turning straight to your door. that voice, so familiar yet so far — a lump forming in your throat. it has been so long, maybe — maybe it was some sort of curse. a curse of remembering, a curse to haunt you. yet, you couldn’t help yourself, holding the door gently.

you pushed it open. your hands making their way to your lips in a gasp, then holding out. there, in front of you stood a man. he was tall, his frame big yet lighter than you remember. his hydrangea hued eyes that once shined with such brightness, now softer and exhausted. “is it you? my caleb?” you asked, gently placing your hand to his cheek, caressing his broken smile.

his hand followed, cupping your hand as he sighed nuzzling into your touch. his hands were rough, more rough than what you have been used too. like instead of holding his sword high to scare off any wandering eyes, he had been put into action, far too much more than he needed to be. “you are gentle, treating me as if i am to break at some point.” he jested. your eyes followed around his body. his armor was dirtied, and his helmet stayed to his side exposing his face.

“have my prayers been heard? have they finally sent you back to me?” you whispered, your hands caressing every part of his face, how real he felt. he spoke like your caleb, he had to be him.

caleb couldn’t help but embrace you. his arm wrapping around you so easily like they have done many moons before. “i have spent a eternity coming back to you,” he said softly. “yet the love you feel for me, is not for me. i am not the same man you loved, i have hurt people. i am a monster,” his voice low.

you push him back, making his loose his footing before balancing himself. “you accuse me of not loving you? you surely jest!” you yelled. your hands balled into a fist as you glared at him. “i have waited! waited! you left without a trace! not a soul would speak a word about your absence — your existence! i have yearned and prayed for your return, your touch and protection! and you dare call me a fake!” it was pouring out of you. your anger and sadness.

“your highness — ” his voice cut sharp off. “what have you done? you claim to not be mines? what have you done in his place? what makes you have the right to claim that the man whom i love is no longer here? in front of me!” your hand now point at him, poking and pushing him.

calebs hand grabbed yours in retaliation. “i have hurt people! killed! i have slaughtered over dozens of men and used people! i had to — i needed to get back to you! it was all to get back to my lady! to get back to you!” his response loud, a match between voices to be heard, listened to. caleb dipped his head into yours, “i must protect you, as that was my swore oath to the queen. my oath to you.” he said softly.

he let go of you, his hands dropping yours, instead of your hands returning to your body they reached out for him. your arms holding over him, embracing him. “that does not wipe you away from me,” you said softly, bringing his gaze to yours. “does that mean i am not in love with the same man who has served and protected me? am i not in love with the same man who has stayed by my side for what had seemed like an eternity?" your voice seemed harsh, but laced with comfort.

"my lady," he said softly, you moved away from him. his gaze unwavering from you. "hush now, into my chamber. i shall call off the ball at once," you pushed him into your bedroom but he quickly grabbed your arm stopping you. "do not, you can hear the music from here. I shall have a dance with you," he said pulling you into his arms as your door closed on its own. his wrecked smile now blooming into a genuine one, his eyes beaming as they used to.

"you shall have a dance with me? sir caleb, if one does recall.. you are supposed to ask a lady to dance. what if I wish to dance alone?" you hummed in amusement. though it was already too late and he had already taken you both hand and waist. the slow movements of the music seemed to be more happy than when you were dancing with another.

caleb had spun you around, making you giggle in response. "if her royalness is to dance alone, surely that means she is waiting for some big, handsome knight to sweep her up off her feet and take her into his arms." before you could respond, he had picked you up and twirled you around making you laugh, more than you have ever in so long. it showed to him, he set you down, placing a kiss on your cheek.

"my fair lady," he bowed to you. "a lovely dance we had together." he hummed, you did the same. your dress pulling up as your legs crossed and you bowed down. "i can only say the same to you." you replied. before you knew it, the kingdom was entirely dark. the stillness surrounding you as you both realized that the ball had come to its end.

you looked back at the knight, worried. "you shall't leave!" you said quickly, the obscure switch of your emotions throwing him off as you pushed him to your bed, rushing to your door and putting a chair up to it, then back to him. "the night is still young, you must stay my love!" you whined out crawling on top of the poor knight. caleb let out a chuckle, "my lady," he hummed out. "if i were to leave i would've done so already, i am here to stay." his hands wrapping around your hairs that fell down your face, tickling him.

"yes but, what if you leave again? you had left me! you were gone without a word, no one would tell me anything! I cannot just trust that you will stay again, that you shall't hurt me once more," you bursted, your voice quieting down after each word. you choked back tears, oh how your knight hated seeing you hurt, his hands going from your hair to your cheek as he held you gently.

he hummed, his eyes grazing over you, "then if my lady does not believe my words," his hands brushing your cheek before moving down to your neck. "then I shall show her with my actions, shall I not?" caleb brought his hand to the crown of your neck, bringing you down to kiss him. he was gentle with you, steady. his mouth finding every part of your skin to kiss on.

his free hand traveled around your skin, unlacing your dress as he slipped his hands right between the fabric that had hidden your skin. "princess," he murmured, his gaze avoiding you then glancing back. "oh the things you do to me," he whined softly. you couldn't help but get up, moving away quickly as caleb sat up also. "was I too demanding? have I asked for too much of you?" he said worriedly, it wasn't the fact that he had just caressed you, touching you places no unmarried princess should allow anyone to touch - you were nervous. you shook your head. "i shall allow you to undress your armor first," you said looking away from him, and all caleb did was return a laugh.

"i am your knight, am i not? you will be the one taking off my armor, what is mine is yours." he stared as you crept closer to him, letting your top half of your empire gown fall. your tits pretty as you set next to the knight. you carefully helped him take off his armor, his eyes fixated on your pretty breasts.

once he was bare, he leaned in. kissing your neck as you let out small moans. "there you go," he hummed moving away from you, his hands now sliding against the skin of your thighs. he got off the bed, and knelt down to you, his eyes looking up at you. "may i?" he asked so nicely allowing you to return his question with a nod of approval.

calebs hand slid your dress up, his mouth following between your legs as he placed small kisses here and there, then his mouth latching on to your sensitive nub as he kissed and suckled on it. one of his hands still placed on your thigh, while the other rubbed small circles on your clit. oh how you felt so good, you moaned grabbing on to the softness of his hair. your legs twitch while he held one spread. "my gods, you are divine." he mumbled out.

the feeling made you gasp. it was new — and it felt so good. your hips rolling at the feeling of his tongue. your hand gripping his hair, while you whined. caleb hummed, his vibrations sending shivers down your body as you twitched. “uh uh princess,” he said softly, his hands holding your legs open while he could better a taste.

how he made you feel so good, your whines becoming begs and pleads, his pace quickening at the sounds of your moans. your hips practically rut against his mouth, his tongue coating every bit of your slit and folds, he wanted to make you feel good, make his princess know that he shall never leave her again. he was evil for leaving you; making you suffer.

you felt a heat rise in you, your heart thumping while you mindlessly whined. “i know,” he said softly, licking your clit as his hands rubbed furiously on your nub. “do you feel good here?” he looked at your swelled eyes, “a yes it is,” he said softly. placing his last kisses on your sobbing cunt, watching you shake and twitch on his mouth, waves crashing together as you felt your high come down.

caleb moved away, his body finding its way up and over you. his hands tugged on your dress, completely pulling it off you. he flipped you over; his cock pushed up against your sobbing cunt. “please, i’ve been waiting so long — let me make you feel good m’lady” he whined. you let out a small ‘go ahead’ he pushed inside of you shuddering at the feeling.

he stilled, waiting for any sound or moment of discomfort or pain but instead he was met with a moan. your hips rocking against him, his hips only moving in a rhythm agreeing with yours. you gasped, moaning and gripping your sheets. he coaxed you in adoration, and sweet murmurs of ‘i love you’ — grabbing your hips and rutting into you.

“we — ngh, are to be wed,” he groaned. his eyes falling on your pretty back, “and i will not leave you, mh, you will bear my children, and we will stay together. as king or queen, or as too common folk.” his thrusts were sloppy, hitting a spot that made you roll your eyes back. caleb kissed your body, worshipping every part of you that he could.

you felt the waves again, the heat of your climax. you sobbed as caleb took that as a sign. his pace quickening, snapping his hips into yours will harsher thrusts. “apologies, princess,” he groaned, his cock hit every angle of you, the sounds of ‘ah’ and ‘oh’s filled your room before you began to twitch, your waves crashing down as you climaxed. your juices leaking over his cock.

it didn’t stop caleb, his cock leaking inside of you as he continued to thrust himself inside your sobbing cunt. his breaths now sounds of your name, his arms wrapping around your body lifting you up so he could go deeper inside you.

his thrusts were nasty against you, “m going to protect you forever,” he whined. “is that all right, princess?” his lips kissing your neck — you too far out to respond. his hips becoming faster before he slammed into you, spilling himself inside of you. he gave you slow strokes before pulling out. watching you numb on your bed as you pant and fight for air.

he couldn’t help but kiss your head, petting it slowly and lying down next to you. “i told you,” he hummed. “i shall’t be leaving you anymore, my love. i am your knight, and yours alone.”

taglist for my pipsquirters : @rcvcgers @neigepomme @tsumoorin @hannasarah @sleepyvivikitty @loldoll @rivifying @allmightyfishdick @criedallday

[harmonyrae]

Knight of Passion

Synopsis: You’ve written to him for 16 years, you know him better than you know yourself. When he returns home from the battlefield you’re shocked to find out he’s being honored… by the Queen herself. Oh, and he wants to finally meet you, face-to-face. 

AN: This is my FIRST Caleb fic, so I am still learning how to write him. I will be honest, I am not a fan of the nickname pipsqueak BUT I found a way to incorporate it!

Content Warnings: SFW (future works could have NSFW elements fyi), plot & angst, injury & blood, death of parental figures mentioned, Knight Caleb be doing things to me dude (send help), FMC struggles with body image 

Word Count: 5.7k

“Mama… I- I can barely breathe!” 

After what feels like hours, your mother finally stops trying to pull your dress down over your hips. You’ve always had a wider frame than your sisters, but it seems your body knew about your debut and wanted to offer a surprise. Just one winter was all it took for you to finally grow breasts. Your hips followed suit and when the snow melted you couldn’t fit into any of your spring dresses. Your mother found a dress for the debut ceremony at the palace, but you hadn’t gotten the chance to go shopping for more.

“I’m sorry darling, we will have Miss Julia come by tomorrow to get your measurements. You can tell her exactly what kind of dresses you want. I’ll put a rush on the order and you should have your dresses before the first ball.”

“But what am I going to wear today? I can’t go to the palace in my chemise.”

Your mother stands back and rests her hands on her hips. You cross your arms in front of you and stare at your feet. Your mothers hand glides through your hair.

“I have a few dresses from when I carried Eleanora. They’re not extravagant, but they will fit. And we can add a silk wrap or necklace, you’ll look lovely.”

You walk over to your bed and sit down, placing your head in your hands.

“Everyone will know it’s a breeding dress Mama!”

“Theodora!”

You look at her with tears in your eyes and her frown fades. She sits beside you and urges you to lean over and rest your head on her shoulder.

“I went through a change like this when I was your age. Maybe a tad younger… I begged my mother to let me delay my debut, but she didn’t allow it. I never would have met your father if I had hidden myself away. I should have requested Miss Julia sooner, I didn’t expect Cora and Rafayel to arrive early.”

You thought once Cora and Sera had gotten married and moved away you wouldn’t have to fight for your mothers attention. Of course, the week before your debut both of your sisters arrive to tell your mother they are with child. Your mother was overjoyed, Winnie and Ellie were squealing, your mother began searching for a special tea recipe and you were sitting in the corner completely forgotten. You were happy for your sisters, but felt wholly unprepared when the day of your debut arrived.  

“I promise you have my undivided attention, my dear. Cora and Sera have both been asking what they can do to help you. Maybe they can help you pick some dress patterns? Would you like that?”

You smile, you have missed them terribly. Your mother stands and gently swipes away your tears with her thumbs. 

“I’ll find the dress and we’ll be on our way to the palace in no time at all.”

“Mama, are you sure I must go?” 

“No one has been knighted in many years, the Queen wants this ceremony to be special. Turning it into a social event is rather uncommon, but I hear the young man who is receiving the commendation is more than worthy of a unique experience. Now, I will only be a moment!”

Your mother leaves to rummage through her chests for a dress. You sit at your desk and open the top drawer, flipping through bundles of letters with your finger.

“January, February… March! Here we are.”

You pull out a bundle of letters and untie the knot. Opening the first envelope you pull the letter free. You try not to frown as you examine the writing, his penmanship has gotten worse since Christmas. You quietly read out-loud.

Theo, Another week where I can’t stomach anything but potato soup. The cook must hate me. And the nurses, cleaning up after me is surely exhausting. Remember the recipe you sent me last autumn? The apple cake? I begged a nurse to find the letter and pass the recipe along. They told me this morning they’ll try to make it for me as a farewell present. I still can’t believe they’re shipping me home. They must think I won’t make it if I don’t see a special doctor. If this is my last letter to you… no, I only want to say that in person. Do you still want that? Or do you still like “the mystery”? Either way, thank you for writing to me all these years. Don’t know what I would have done without you.  I’ll write to you as soon as I’m home. If I make it there.  Caleb

You fold the letter and carefully put it back in the envelope. Nearly a month has passed since you received it. The trip couldn’t have taken that long, could it? Your throat threatens to close at the thought of Caleb never writing to you again. After almost 16 years, you’re not sure what you would do. 

“I found one! And it’s your favorite color too!”

You quickly slide the bundle of letters back in the drawer before your mother enters with a bright yellow dress draped over her arm.

“Come on, let’s get you dressed.”

The loose silk dress slides over your curves with ease and you sigh, at least it fits. The yellow shimmers in the sunlight streaming through your window, if it weren’t for the lack of a waistline you would consider wearing the dress again. Your mother eases your arms through the thick lace overcoat, adjusting the short puffy sleeves. She ties a white silk scarf under your breasts to carve out your shape and turns you to face the mirror. 

“See? You look lovely. The scarf is much more fashionable than the plain belt I wore.”

You give her a sweet smile and nod. She leaves to finish getting ready herself and you take a moment to look through your old dresses piled on your bed. Your younger sisters are taller than you so your mother won’t keep them. 

You skip down the stairs, eager to find Ms Jennings before your mother drags you out of the house. You call for her and she rounds the corner to meet you at the bottom of the stairs. The wrinkles around her eyes deepen as she smiles at you.

“Any –”

“No letters today Miss. And yes, I’ve checked twice.”

You’ve asked her the same question for a fortnight and you’re thankful your mother hasn’t overheard. Ms Jennings started delivering Caleb’s letters directly to you when you turned 13. The arrangement between noble families was only meant to last a few years, but you and Caleb agreed to continue anyway. 

Your penmanship as a child was horrible, as was your reading proficiency. You cried and threw a fit whenever your mother tried to encourage you to practice. Your mother discussed the problem over tea with other mothers and discovered it was a common problem. They came up with a creative solution, pairing their children together to write letters. What started as a method to improve your writing and reading turned into a lifelong friendship. 

You nod, sending Ms Jennings on her way. You begin pacing through the entryway, the soft click of your heels drowning out your anxious thoughts. Then there’s a quiet knock on the door. You didn’t wait for Ms Jennings and approached the door without a second thought. As soon as the door swung open you wished you had been more patient. You were face-to-face with a man's chest and had to step back to look up at him properly.

The man is tall, broad, a sweep of dark brown hair sits neatly across his forehead. His jaw set as his violet eyes examined you. You quickly give him a once over, still baffled at how large he is compared to you. His dark blue frock coat is fully buttoned, the velvet material stretched taut over his chest. The golden buttons and dainty medals glint in the sunshine. His shako is tucked under his arm, his gloved fingers tracing the chinstrap repeatedly. The sleeve of his right arm is rather loose and your heartbeat quickens with a singular assumption.

You clear your throat and stand up straight.

“Apologies, may I… help you?”

The man smiles, his face transforming and quite literally taking your breath away. You suppress a gasp and force a smile in return. He bows.

“I do not mean to intrude, I know it’s… unusual, but I was hoping to call on Miss Theodora Raeton?”

Your breakfast makes an attempt to resurface and you swallow hard. You grip the door handle so tightly your hand begins to ache.

“Who is asking?”

You want to slap yourself for being so improper, but you’re a tad too focused on staying on your feet to care.

“Caleb, I… Well, I’d like to think I’m a friend?”

You let out a laugh - somewhere between a chuckle and a sob. You shake your head and force your smile to stay put. 

“She… My sister - Theodora… yes, she told me, uhm… yes, she told me about you. You wrote letters, yes?”

His eyes narrow, the corner of his mouth twitches as his smile fades for a moment. His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath and shifts his weight between his feet. When his smile returns it’s brighter than before.

“Yes, for many years. I’m hoping to finally speak to her face-to-face.”

You start chewing the inside of your cheek, a habit you’ve constantly failed to break. 

“I- I’m not sure she’s in… at the moment… She might be… out.”

He chuckles under his breath and drops his head, his hair gently falling out of place. Your fingers twitch with the thought of reaching out to fix it. 

“Of course. Might I request you pass this along to her?”

He slowly lifts his right arm, his face twists as if he’s in pain and you take a step forward. He holds up a letter and you take it quickly, allowing his arm to return to his side. He huffs and takes a small step back. 

“Thank you.”

You hear a man shout his name and you look past him, seeing a small group of men in matching uniforms on their horses. One of them waves at him, beckoning him to come over. You look up to see Caleb staring down at you. 

“Please, forgive me, but I must go.”

He bows once more and walks back through the front gate of your house. He secures his hat before awkwardly jumping up onto his horse using only his left arm. You watch as he rides away with the men, glancing over his shoulder to smile at you before disappearing at the end of the street. Once he is out of sight you hurry inside and close the door, leaning against it while you catch your breath. You open the envelope hastily, almost ripping the paper.

Theo, You must hate me, it’s been too long since I last wrote. The journey home was long and I was sent to a doctor intent on forcing me to rest. He would not give me paper no matter how many times I requested it. Even the nurses were afraid of him. I’ll beg for your forgiveness if I must. The doctor said I won’t be returning to the battlefield. I am settled in my family home. The steward maintained it well after my parents died. The swing is still on the oak on the hill looking over the orchard. And Pip is still alive, she’s slow but can still walk with me through the grounds. I want to see you. I need to see you. There are things I want to say, things I can’t write. Please, Theo, I do not wish to know you as only words on paper. Please. Caleb

You wipe away a tear as you return the letter to the envelope and stuff it in a book to carry upstairs. Your mother runs into you and holds your shoulders, leaning down to look you in the eye.

“My darling, whatever is the matter?”

“Nothing… I was reading… the dust… I will just put this in my room and we can go,”

You do not wait for her response, you rush past her and run to your room. You quietly close the door and sit down at your desk. Pulling out the envelope, you notice the estate name in the corner. He never had your letters sent there while his parents were alive, a pub received the letters and he would pick them up every other day. It’s his estate now, he has the freedom to do whatever he pleases. You, however, do not have the same luxury. You stuff the envelope in the drawer with the other letters and hurry to join your mother in the carriage. The Queen awaits. 

The palace is nearly full when you arrive with your mother, a feat you believed to be impossible. Your mother quickly finds your sisters and their husbands. Thanks to your brother-in-laws status as a Duke, you are all escorted closer to the throne. 

“I can request seating for you? You should sit. You both should sit. I’ll find someone…”

“Sylus! We’re fine.”

Sera places a hand on Sylus’s arm and draws him back to her side. For someone who is usually so suave and carefree, Sylus has become a tad overbearing since he found out Sera is expecting. It doesn’t go unnoticed that Rafayel also doesn’t let go of Cora for even a moment. You giggle and your mother gives you a warning look. Sera winks at you and you cover your mouth to hide your smile. 

Soft music begins playing and you lean forward to see the Queen arrive. You curtsy and tilt your head to see when everyone else will rise. Your thighs start to burn and you honestly wonder if the Queen wants to see a young lady faint. Thankfully, her majesty isn’t feeling too cruel today. Everyone shuffles into a comfortable position as the Queen leans back on her throne. 

“Today, we are here to honor a young man, who has shown valor beyond his years. Placing himself in danger, maimed by the misfortune of an eruption! All to protect his fellow officer!”

Whispers of praise surround you, ladies oohing and ahhing, gentlemen nodding in approval of his bravery. But for you, the room becomes unbearably hot. You shift uncomfortably and feel your mother behind you, gently holding you still. You feel as though you are finally piecing a puzzle together. 

“I have been called upon by his peers to issue him the highest honor. And that is exactly why we are gathered here today. As we have not had the privilege in some time, I believe a traditional ceremony with a few embellishments is warranted. Shall we begin?”

Large doors at the back of the room open and everyone around you is already blocking your view. You hear footsteps and the muffled whispers around you slowly fade until all you can hear is your heartbeat.

Caleb marches past with his peers. The group bows before the Queen and she gives them a subtle nod. All the men besides Caleb step back and Caleb kneels. An older gentleman holding two swords steps up beside the Queen.

“I have been told of your prowess in battle, your peers praise you and wish your sacrifice be made honorable. I am of the mind to admit you to the Order of Skyhaven. Will you accept this honour?”

“I will.”

“Will you give us your word that all you do will serve as a noble example to our people?”

“I will.”

“Will you treat all with courtesy, and uphold the laws and traditions of our kingdom?”

“I will.”

“Will you swear fealty to us, our crown?”

“I will.”

“Then we swear fealty to you, Caleb, to protect and defend you and all your household, with all our power, until we depart from our throne, or death takes us.”

The gentleman steps forward and motions for Caleb to rise. He sheaths the sword and secures it around Caleb’s waist. He holds up the other sword and steps up to face Caleb. With one swift motion he strikes Caleb across the face with the flat of his sword. The crowd collectively gasps and the Queen gives a stern look, effectively silencing everyone. You clutch the front of your dress and bite your lip so hard you taste copper. You remember reading about knighting ceremonies, the act is traditional, but witnessing it first-hand made your stomach drop. Caleb kneels again and bows his head. Another officer approaches and presents the Queen a sword. She proceeds to lower the blade onto Caleb’s shoulder and lifts it to switch to the other side.

“I dub thee once, dub thee twice, dub thee Knight. From this day forward, let no blade touch you, that you live with honour, courage and prowess. We command you to protect the defenceless, seek justice for all, and maintain the honour of your order. Bring no dishonour to your sword, and carry it in defence of any and all who have need of it. Sir Caleb, rise and go forth. For Sir Caleb, newest Knight of the Order of Skyhaven, three cheers!”

The crowd cheers as Caleb stands, bowing once more before turning around. He rests his hand on the hilt of his new sword and looks around. His eyes lock onto you and you step back, hiding behind Sylus who looks down at you with an amused grin.

You keep your head down until Caleb and his fellow officers exit the room. The crowd slowly filters out, but you remain frozen in place. Your mother tugs on your arm and when you don’t move she lifts her hand to your forehead.

“Theodora? Are you feeling poorly?”

You shake your head and stumble forward, letting your mother hold your arm and guide you out of the room. Caleb, the man you’ve written to for 16 years, who you thought was dead until this morning, who is far more attractive than he let on, is now a knight and he’s home, for good. And he wants to see you. Question is, are you brave enough to face him?

After a week and three fittings, you finally have your new dresses. You stare at your bed, now covered in extravagant linen and lace. Before you had no options, now you have too many. The party today will be the first time you get to wear a proper fitting dress this season. Holding up dress after dress, you examine yourself in the mirror. 

“Too formal�� Too light… Too dark… Too… Yellow?”

“I thought you liked yellow?”

You drop the dress and jump, turning quickly to see Sera leaning in your doorway. You bend to pick up your dress and toss it on the bed. She makes her way into your room, around hat boxes and piles of shoes, to clear a space on your bed to sit. She sighs heavily as she sits, a hand protectively over her stomach. After successfully hiding her condition from Mama for most of the winter, she was relieved to finally huff and puff without caring who hears. 

“I do like yellow, I just… I don't know what to wear today. It’s a garden party, but not formal, but still… I don’t know…”

You flop down on the bed, dramatically covering your eyes with an arm. You hear Sera giggle and pat the bed beside you.

“This one.”

You sit up and look down at Sera’s suggestion. She had requested this pattern at the very first fitting and you had to admit, it’s stunning. A pale yellow base with a sheer overlay covered in white daisy appliques and sheer white sleeves that cover down to your elbows. 

“White lace mittens, your embroidered reticule and the white slippers with the little bow!”

You trail your fingers over the white daisies and smile. Sera loves to dress others up, but hates dressing up herself. You can see her dirty riding boots under the hem of her dress and know very well she won’t be changing them. You stand and hold the dress up, twirling around and smiling. When you face Sera, she’s sporting the biggest grin.

“Why are you so nervous about this party?”

Carefully slipping the dress over your head, you smooth the fabric out and sit beside Sera. She secures the buttons slowly, stopping to tap your shoulder. You sigh and stare at your hands.

“It’s rather sudden, wouldn’t you say? Parties and balls are usually scheduled weeks before the debutante presentation. I’m surprised Mama is so… resolute… about our attendance.” “You do not wish to attend Sir Caleb’s party?”

You shake your head.

“No! No… I- I just… I find it strange.” 

Sera hums and pats your back. You stand and start searching for your lace mittens. While you enjoy the silence, your mind races with questions you wish you could ask. You finally groan loudly and turn to face Sera.

“How did you know you were in love?”

Sera gasps and then starts to laugh.

“Theo… is there something you’d like to tell me?”

“No! Sera… please… I… I just need…”

She places her hands over yours and squeezes them. 

“I’m sorry for my teasing. I- It was just unexpected, is all.” 

She motions for you to follow her to the bed. You sit beside her and she sweeps your hair over your shoulder, gently twirling your curls. 

“I was not sure right away. When I first met Sylus I wanted to slap him, sometimes I still do! I expected him to find me improper and avoid my company, like most gentlemen used to do. And yet, he’d seek me out. Treat me as an equal, not property to acquire.”

You look over your shoulder to see her eyes glisten with tears.

“I knew I loved him when he smiled after I told him I hated him. I was not afraid to speak, to disagree, to challenge him - I felt entirely safe and cherished. For just being myself. I could be as impolite as I pleased, and he would still love me.”

You pull her into a hug and listen to her quietly sob for a few moments. She sits back and clears her throat.

“God, I cry all the time now… Now will you tell me why you are asking?”

You shake your head with a sneaky smile and jump up before she can grab you. She doesn’t pressure you to tell her, but she does promise to keep a close eye on you. She leaves you to finish getting ready and shuts your door. You sit at your desk and pull out a new bundle of letters, opening each and laying them out in front of you. You’d written to Caleb as soon as you returned home from his knighting ceremony. Since then, his correspondence has been growing more frequent. 

Theo. I’m sure you’ve heard, I was honored by the Queen, can you believe I’m a knight? Sir Caleb, sounds pompous, does it not? I will be helping my former superiors “teach” new officers - they wish to use me as an example of what not to do, I am almost certain. Have you considered what I requested? Please, I wish to speak to you. To see the smile you’re wearing knowing I’m home, and alive. Caleb

You never should have written about how happy it had made you to receive his letter. While it is true that you have not stopped smiling since his return, you’ve also not stopped fidgeting. Would he regret meeting you? Once he knows what you look like or how awkward and shy you can be?

Theo, I do not wish to rely on my title, I intend to open the orchard this autumn. I remember you used to wish for the Allhallowtide Festival to be held in an orchard. With apple cakes, apple tarts, apple preserves on scones, apple tea, apple custard. I may have mentioned the idea to the Queen the other day and she is beside herself. She wishes to hold a ball in my orchard next spring. I will not force you to meet me, if you only wish to write to me I will be content. However, I will not hide my desire for you to reconsider. Caleb

The Allhallowtide Festival in his family orchard sounds heavenly. Crisp autumn air, sweet apples, warm scones and tea. You would never consider missing such an affair. You know Caleb, possibly better than you know yourself, you know he will never stop asking to meet. Should you just get it over with?

Theo, I must know, are you afraid to meet me? Have I done something? I will make it right, tell me what I must do. I do hope you consider attending the garden party I am hosting today. It’s rather sudden, but I cannot stand the silence. You know better than most how I thrive in chaos. If you do not wish to meet, I will avoid your family if I must. Please attend, if only to see the apple blossoms and Pip. Caleb

It was the first time you had the chance to read the letter you received this morning. Your eyes burned, he thought he’d done something to hurt you. All because you’re afraid he will be disappointed. Maybe you can speak to him today and see what he thinks about “Theo” - you were surprisingly good at reading expressions. 

You return the letters to their envelopes and stow them away. You stand and put on your mittens, loop your reticule around your wrist and slip on your slippers. Pinching your cheeks lightly as you pass the mirror you rush to join your mother and sisters. Today you’ll be anyone but Theodora Raeton.

Arriving at Caleb’s estate you’re instantly shaken by its size, you couldn’t even see the orchard yet. The gardens in front of the manor were well maintained and extensive. A large lake sat along the right side, a small island with a gazebo sat at its center. As soon as you rounded the house, the entire back garden came into view. Ladies sat at round tables sipping tea and fanning themselves. Men stood in small groups in the open field. You spot several of them holding pall mall mallets. 

Sylus and Sera charge ahead to find a table in the shade and Rafayel and Cora take off for the lake for a stroll. Your mother clings to you as you follow Sylus and Sera. Once everyone is seated and comfortably drinking tea, you stand.

“I’m going to go for a walk. And yes, Mama, I will be careful, don’t worry.”

Your mother nods and continues to sip her tea. Sera gives you a knowing look, but remains silent. You walk past several tables, politely waving and greeting family acquaintances. You pass the dessert station and quickly grab a slice of apple cake, how Caleb got so many fresh apples out of season you’ll never know. 

Passing a group of men playing a lively game of pall mall, you spot the entrance to the orchard. You climb a small hill and look past the line of hedges. The apple blossoms are gorgeous, a sea of pastel pink stretching as far as you can see. You can only imagine what it looks like in autumn, trees full of apples, the grass dry and covered in leaves and fallen fruit. 

A shrill laugh draws your attention back to the entrance, you see Caleb - looking dashing as ever - speaking to a young lady. You immediately recognize her, Miss Dahlia Atwood. Tall, thin, perfectly average bosom and hips. Her chestnut brown hair meticulously curled and pinned back to show off her dainty lips and rosy cheeks. Her dress matches Caleb’s eyes, no doubt chosen deliberately.

She bats her lashes and smiles sweetly and your heart aches with every passing moment. You try to quietly stroll over to a bench further away, but almost shout when you hear a loud yip. You look down and see a shaggy hunter spaniel, their shiny white fur with dark brown spots. Their tongue lolls out of their mouth and their tail wags furiously. They look up at you expectantly and your lip trembles, Pip. 

You bend and extend your hand cautiously. Pip sniffs your palm and gives it a lick. You giggle and scratch behind her ears, you remember Caleb said she likes that best. 

“She likes you.”

You launch yourself upright, nearly falling backwards. Caleb stands a few feet away, his hands behind his back. You look over his shoulder and see Dahlia glare at you - as if you personally asked Caleb to stop talking to her. You turn your attention back to Pip and chuckle. 

“You think so?”

Caleb nods. You bend and continue petting her, her tail wagging so fast her whole body is swaying. 

“Is your sister still feeling poorly?”

You bite your lip, you forgot you wrote to him about “Theo” feeling ill. You stand up and step past Pip, slowly making your way to the bench. You sit and place your plate on your lap. 

“Yes, she… she is. Very poorly.” 

“And how are you today, Miss Raeton?”

You look up at him with wide eyes.

“Me?”

He chuckles before gesturing to the bench, his smile faltering slightly as he clenches his fist. He’d used his right arm, you still didn’t know the extent of his injuries, he wouldn’t write about it. You move over so he can sit down.

“Does it hurt?”

“Only when it rains. Or when I overexert myself.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t pry.”

“No, you’re not trying to avoid the matter like everyone else.”

“... Miss Atwood looked very pleased to see you. I did not intend to disrupt your conversation.”

Caleb laughs.

“You and Pip saved me from the most disagreeable –” He closes his eyes and clears his throat. “Apologies, I am far too comfortable speaking bluntly. A consequence of the better part of 4 years surrounded by rowdy officers.”

You smile and bow your head. 

“What I mean to say is I am grateful, I did not particularly wish to speak to her in that manner.” 

“Oh… I would have thought you would be pleased to find such a… a… lady for you… for such a house.”

He watches you, his smile soft as his eyes burn through you.

“I informed her I am already pursuing another.”

You chose the wrong time to take a bite of your apple cake. You cough until you are red in the face. Caleb disappears to fetch you some tea and you’re left on the bench desperate to run all the way home. When he returns you sip the tea slowly, soothing your sore throat. 

“Th-thank you. I was just - ahem - I was just surprised is all. I did not realize you were courting a young lady already.”

“She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And… as I am already sharing my secrets with you, I intend to propose, when she’s ready.”

The tea cup clatters as you set it back on the saucer. You hold your breath to suppress the tears, but cannot stop yourself from gasping. You set the saucer on the bench and stand up. Caleb looks up at you, his brows raised.

“I am truly happy to hear that Sir Caleb, happy indeed. I must… I must go, please excuse me.”

You rush past him and into the orchard, nearly sprinting as soon as you think you’re out of sight. Your lungs burn as you run through the lush grass, apple blossom petals fluttering down around you. 

The trail you’ve been following splits off and you follow a new direction up a hill. Your hands shake as you come to a stop in front of a giant oak tree. An old swing hangs from one of its branches. Caleb wrote about this swing and how he would run here when his father was angry with him. He called it his “safe place” - the bark of the tree was whittled away, letters carved to claim this place as his own. You reach out and hold the rope, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. 

Are you surprised? Did you think he was interested in you just from your silly letters? That’s why he wanted to talk to you face-to-face, he wanted to tell you about his impending nuptials. You’d only ever be his friend, nothing more. You knew this, so why can’t you stop crying? Why does it hurt so badly?

“Theodora!”

You spin around and see Caleb climbing the hill towards you. His face is flushed as he rushes to stand before you. 

“Theo…”

Caleb extends his hand, gently lifting your chin to adjust your gaze. He doesn’t let go, his thumb gliding over your jaw to hold you in place.

“Y-you k-knew? Th-this whole t-time?”

He nods.

“How?”

“I was your secret. You told me that. You said you’ve never told a soul about our letters. I considered you may have a sister you trust, maybe you told them. But I knew better. I know you.”

“I – I don’t…”

“Your eyes. You wrote about how much you hated the color. And I told you, I bet your eyes are the perfect shade of brown. That they’ll sparkle in the sun. Flecks of gold, more lovely than any jewel. I was right…”

He lets go of your chin to rest his palm against your cheek. You wrap a hand around his wrist and he gasps softly.

“I – I didn’t mean to lie. I thought… I thought you’d…”

“Be disappointed? I meant what I said, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. You’re the only reason I fought so damn hard to get home. I wasn’t going to die without seeing you.”

He closes the distance and tries to lift his right arm to circle around you. When you see his struggle, you tuck your arm under his lifting it enough for him to rest his palm against  your hip. His eyes close as he leans down to rest his forehead against yours. His other hand sliding down to hold the side of your neck. 

“Without holding you.”

You lean into his touch, his hand warm and tender. 

“And yes, I meant it when I said I intend to propose. When you’re ready, I want you to be my wife.”

“Yes.”

He leans back, opening his eyes to meet yours.

“What?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

🐝❀🍎 AN #2: I tried my best to be historically accurate, some modern terms are just way easier to use for a smoother reading experience. Used THIS as reference for knighting ceremony - changed it to be less official & more LADs casual style. All photos taken from Pinterest. *Changed the letters from Caleb to normal font cause it is hard to see on mobile!

(If you DO NOT want to be tagged in ALL REGENCY AU fics, just leave a comment. Keep in mind, each story hints at the futures for each pair sooooo...) 𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora @crowskitten22 @letharue @silverbrain @alastor-simp @drama-trauma @0tterteeth @mysticcollectionvoid @godzillaglitter @godoffuckedupcats @m00nchildwrites @plsdonttakemyname @hauntedbysmut @withering-dream @lostwingz2236 @simpfortheseven @freddy-2002-blog @kiude @tati-the-fangirl @mtcozylove @3fingersofscotch @stxrrielle @angelicspaceprince @hebreeee @beykyuns @sylusgirlie7 @goblynn @freddy-2002-blog

[leycorice]

my stone, my shield, my steady hands

caleb x zayne // royalty au

under fireflies and stolen moonlight, they learned that love doesn't heal on command. it lingers. it unravels. it stays.

and for once, the past stayed quiet— so the present could sing.

ao3

[caitmayart]

💮🌸MAYBE YOU'RE MY LOVE🌸💮(part two!)

Thank you all for the inspo - this was a TON of fun and great practice ♥♥♥

Image ID: Part 2 of the sketch page of kisses!

Top left: Essek and Caleb sharing a passionate first kiss Top middle: Fig and Ayda share a sweet kiss, Fig sitting in Ayda's lap with her arms around her Top right: Midna and Zelda smooch and hold each other delicately Bottom left: A lady knight kneels over a pool of water, her mermaid lover stretches up to kiss her gently Bottom right: Dorian and Orym cuddle in bed, sharing a sweet morning smooch

[gavin3469]

@little-devil-art U HAVE MADE MY DREAMS COME TRUE WITH THIS I LOVE IT

[Knight and Maiden] 👑🍎🌹

Inspired by [Die Legende des heiligen Georg: Die Errettung] by Maximilian Liebenwein.

[seraphiiem]

A little reminder for future me: finish your sketches, pls (￣ヘ￣)

But mb I just can’t express all my love for THEM with dignity.

[shoko-ism]

Knight Caleb with Princess!Reader who has been given away to the heir of the foreign kingdom and he has to accompany his only friend, his only love on the journey to said kingdom and it haunts him that a stranger gets the privilege of marrying you and not him. That a man who barely knows what fruits you like(if you ask him the same, he'd say it is you that tempts him the most - his forbidden apple) or what scandalous books you read and giggle at(romances and erotica that make you swoon and wonder how marital bliss would look on you, and he almost swears that he can surpass all the fantasies your sweet mind has conjured up) - all because he was born a royal. Caleb who resents the fact that he wasn’t born royalty; sometimes he wishes on a shooting star, even though he knows they do not make anyone's wishes come true, that when he wakes up tomorrow, you are no longer shackled by the chains of duties and responsibilities anymore - that you are just a common girl, free to live and he’s just a boy who’s madly in love with you.

Knight Caleb whose blood boils at the thought of that undeserving man touching you, kissing you, making love to you when all Caleb had wanted was to be by your side - no matter what. He'd be your friend, your lover, your protector - as long as it is you who commands it. Caleb who feels goosebumps raise on his skin when your fingers play with his hair, when your fingertips brush against his as you pass him by in a flurry of gentle wind, leaving behind the soft aroma of jasmine and roses behind. Caleb who has been your closest confidant all your life (your childhood friend, the only man who has ever made your heart beat violently out of your chest whenever he looks at you like you’re the sun, the moon and his entire galaxy)- who is tormented by you every night when you cry yourself to sleep, scared and alone in a foreign land with no one to rely on. Caleb who wants nothing more than to rush to your side and hold you - who wants to be your first kiss, first love, first fuck.

Knight Caleb who wants to feel your heated skin flushed against his body as he marks up your pristine skin with red bites, who stakes his claim on you by kissing your lips raw and making you lose your breath. Caleb who holds your hand as he talks you through it; murmuring praises into your neck as he whispers vows of eternal devotion - all for you. [But he knows you value your virtue, and he respects you too much to do anything that would tarnish your name, ever.]

Caleb who knows that you love him all the same, but your responsibilities surpasses any feelings you have for him. Caleb who won't stop you from performing your duty, but who will ensure he is able to complete his duty to you and your happiness - even if it means ensuring that your betrothed does not see the light of the day tomorrow.

[a-hermit-pining]

LaDS Men React to Seeing You in Armor for the First Time

AN: Am I writing the same thing again and again? Yes. Does this please me? Very much.

Pairing: LaDS boys x gn reader

Ingredients: 75% drama, 25% fluff. 100% cannon divergence

My Fav: Xavier and Zayne's

Xavier:

In a tournament against the knight to whom he had given a favor, he saw you.

His knight in shining armor, from some backwater village.

You defeated his champion in two effortless moves. He watched in fascination as you dismounted your horse and retrieved the handkerchief he had given to Ser Vance of Gor.

Then, catching him in the act of staring, you turned toward him. Pressing a kiss to the handkerchief, you made his heart shudder.

"Favors are to be won, not trodden on," you reasoned with the guards as they dragged you from the arena for stealing the royal favor.

From winning the tournament, to spending a night in prison, to kneeling before him in an oath. Xavier did not know when you became his dark knight.

Not until he realized you had stolen more than just a favor.

Rafayel:

He heard you first, the clash of swords and daggers, the thud of bodies hitting cold, hard ground.

And then he was blinded. After days of darkness, light flooded in, making him recoil into himself.

It had been weeks since you left for the campaign. Weeks since he had been captured from the shallow shores and thrown into the unlit cells that stank of death and fear.

Fighting the stinging pain in his eyes, he looked up, and there you stood. In all your glory. In your kingdom's armor, holding your sword- eyes wide with battle's fury.

He reached for you, though his tail, torn and raw, stung against the floor. They had not allowed him to shift. Still, with a thousand grievances, he reached toward you.

"Rafayel," you whispered, kneeling beside him and pulling him into your arms. "I am here." You murmured as your sword shattered his chains.

Your words made the bond thrum with joy despite the pain in his body.

"I am sorry it took so long," you said, wiping the gash above his brow. "But I’m here."

And that was when he cried. Shedding pearls his captors would have killed to possess.

Never before had waiting been so painful. But in every lifetime, a union with you was worth the suffering.

Zayne:

He had been an apprentice in Astra's halls when he first saw you, the herald to the God of Time itself. You stood proud at your lord’s side.

How you shone brighter than Astra himself was beyond Zayne. How could a mere herald possess such light?

But you were beloved. Rescuing disciples from Astra's wrath, smoothing over mistakes, appeasing Astra's tantrums. You were the calm in his halls.

Yet, you were also his sword, leading sparring sessions with the students of fate.

Zayne learned the way of the bow from you. Steadying his hands, you taught him the exact points to strike while he spoke to you of anatomy and healing.

He had always been a thorn in Astra’s side, a healer who fought to give life where there was none. Perhaps that was why he had been barred from battle.

Forced to tend to the wounded, far from the battlefield, so that his kindness would not extend to the dying on the other side.

On the eve of battle, you handed him your bow. "This is for your defense, and for the people around you." You fixed the quiver around him, the head of the healing halls.

As the herald leading the assault, your presence was a surprise to many, especially next to Zayne, the one who had angered Astra.

"And this," you said, handing him a satchel, "is for anyone who needs help. Friend or foe. We deny no one aid." You smiled.

And then you walked into the battle of time. Your armor burning bright as any star even as you fell.

Sylus (Angel x Demon au):

You were chaos. The bloodthirsty bane of heaven. He found you in the battles of men, the brothels of night, the tears of mothers.

You prowled the fields with plague and ruin dripping from your fingertips. Your crimson eyes burned with madness as you swept through the carnage with a scimitar. Blood clung to you, from your hair to your eyes, flowing like a river.

A terrible sight to many. Damning to him.

He had been sent to capture you, to deliver justice for the humans who prayed for help. He who had once beheld your unmarred form.

And when he pressed his sword to your throat, you had only laughed. A low, broken sound.

"We meet again," you had grinned, guiding his sword to your chest. Wrapping your hand over his. "This time, I shall have you forever."

You steadied the sword and pulled it into your heart.

Your breath ghosted over his ear as you whispered the prophecy of your shared fate. "Let this be a debt we shall settle for eons."

Your curse settled upon him. Dragging him down. Twisting him into a reflection of you in his soul, in his crimson eyes, and last of all, in his heart.

Unleashing upon him the wrath of unending time. Truly making him yours forever. Stealing him from the heavens, you won.

Caleb:

He hadn't seen you in your gear until the end. Not until you stood before him, pointing your gun at his chest.

"Colonel Caleb, you are under arrest for working with EVER. You will be detained until the trial." Your voice was devoid of emotion.

"Drop your weapons and step back."

You turned him around, folding his hands behind his back. The handcuffs snapped shut with cold finality.

"You have the right to remain silent." Your touch did not linger.

Your uniform was not unlike his. But he had never known. Not until now. There, on your lapel, was the badge of intelligence.

All these years, you had both managed to keep the most dangerous of secrets.

Despite himself, he smiled.

It vanished when your knee struck the back of his legs, forcing him to kneel.

Leaning down, you yanked him back by his hair. "Expect no mercy," you snarled before leaving him kneeling on the cold floor, surrounded by your officers.

tags: @mentaltrouble2201

[transcriptasareversa]

[kiplex]

✧ Thinking Abt Knight Caleb ✧

Knight Caleb x Princess MC HCs

Tags: A little bit of angst, Gideon mentioned, Zayne is seen as a bad guy in this?? I'm so sorry I couldn't think of fitting NPC 💀, implied possession, very sfw, not beta read we full send it

A/N: Uh oh... Ki is reading fantasy novels again!!! I have a prince Raf x Knight MC up next. This is really plot focused head cannons, something a little different!!!

Knight Caleb who has known you since he was just a boy, he grew up in the place with you, he a guard’s son and you the princess of the kingdom you both resided in… The heir to the throne

Knight Caleb who swore to protect with his dying breath when you two were just little kids rooting around in the palace gardens together finding bugs and rocks, much to your fathers displeasure because you'd muddy your dresses and gowns

Knight Caleb who started training to be a knight as soon as he was able to. Night and day he would be on the training fields, he went particularly hard when he knew you were out watching him from the sidelines cheering him on anytime he'd hit a training dummy a little too hard

Knight Caleb who would grin like an idiot anytime he'd go a little too hard in training, drawing blood from sword sparring with Gideon, knowing you'd be there to patch him up and fuss over him

Knight Caleb who passes his knight trails with flying colors and is quickly appointed your personal royal guard. Anywhere you went Caleb would follow to keep you protected, just like he had planned

Knight Caleb who actually decided he hated watching you sometimes. He was so jealous, he knew deep down he wouldn't always have you to himself. You reached the phase in your life where your father, the king, decided it was time to start preparing you to be courted and married off. Sending you to neighbouring kingdoms to meet with potential suitors.

Knight Caleb was, of course, in charge of seeing you there safely to all those places and back

Knight Caleb who now takes frequent visits to that same garden with you. Instead of tearing it up like you did as kids, you talk about all the things you can't talk about with prying eyes and listening ears. You tell him about all the pressures of the throne closing in on you, how you wish you could just let them all go and run away from it all

Knight Caleb who is tempted to tell you he'll help you escape, he'll throw everything away to keep you happy and smiling at him like you used to before so much had been placed on your shoulders

Knight Caleb who instead reminds you how smart you are, and when the time comes you'll make a great queen. A bitter feeling rises in his throat as the words leave his lips and your sad eyes find his with a nod

Knight Caleb who is absolutely wrecked when a few weeks later, the prince of the Snow Kingdom offers an alliance, or rather a merger of your two kingdoms; his giant, yours much much smaller, in exchange for your hand in marriage. Which the king quickly accepts, he'd be a fool not to.

Knight Caleb who ends up in your chamber that night holding you close as you sob violently into his chest, not wanting any of this

Knight Caleb whose hands twitch at his sides wanting to pull you in, tell you everything will be okay but he can't stand the thought of you being whisked away to some prince you'd met once

Knight Caleb who keeps it professional, keeps to his duty by reassuring you that you are doing the right thing… that your so brave and so beautiful and that he's so incredibly proud of the young woman you've become

Knight Caleb who grits his teeth the moment he sees the Snow Prince, Zayne arrives to meet with the king to discuss wedding arrangements. Immediately this guy pissed him off, he didn't deserve you. His royal hardass would absolutely clash with your joy and whimsy he thinks.

Knight Caleb who can feel the anxiety radiating off you at dinner that evening while you discuss even more wedding plans.

Knight Caleb who thinks he might punch Prince Zayne if he looks at you one more time with that cold calculated look anytime you said anything he didn't like

Knight Caleb who accompanies you to the garden with Prince Zayne, as the two of you sit in the gazebo and chat while Caleb is just outside of it. He can't help but simmer with rage as he slips a ring on your delicate hand, when he knows damn well that should be him

Knight Caleb who once again is in your chamber that evening as you pace around. With the wedding just weeks away, you're finding any excuses to get out of it.

Knight Caleb who finally can't take it anymore. He can't see you bearing this burden anymore and confesses he's been in love with you for years. Since you were two kids chasing each other around with wooden swords.

Knight Caleb who says if you even feel a little bit the same as him, he poses he could get you guys out. Run away, become your own people, no responsibility or duties to fulfill. You could start a life together. All you had to do was say the word and he'd do anything for you. Just as he'd always had and vowed to do.

Knight Caleb who is crushed by the weight of your arms around him squeezing him tightly, calling him a dummy for not telling you sooner. Pecking him on the check shyly. Uttering a small “Let's get out of here."

Knight Caleb who helps you pack a small bag; some food, clothes, a few (quite a few actually) shillings. You two gather whatever you need and leave by horseback before dawn.

Fugitive Caleb who despite being hunted by your kingdom and the snow kingdom, could be happier to be on the road running from inn to inn with his girlfriend. The same woman who flashes him a bright smile as she settles on the crummy inn bed, the same smile he remembers from when you were kids

You can find my master list here!

[yanderedbdimagines]

Could you write a few killers who already have their sights on someone, but become obsessed with the reader because they forfeit their own safety to protect others?

---------------------

I really like this request, and I picked four killers that I really wanted to write about the moment I started to play around with it. Someone else requested something similar, so it's two in one.

----------------------

Warning!: NSFW Elements present! Violence, blood, etc.

The Deathslinger

The wooden stock of Caleb’s custom-built rifle was warm in his grip, slick with a thin sheen of blood. One of theirs, but whose, exactly? He neither knew nor cared. The scent of gunpowder clung to the thick, stagnant air. Mingling with the acrid aroma of rust, dust and decay. The once-thriving outpost of Dead Dawg Saloon stood in eerie silence around him, its skeletal remains a graveyard of splintered wood, abandoned buildings, and the ghostly echoes of men long since put in the ground.

The trial was nearly at its end.

Three of them still clung to life, but their fate was sealed. Prey, reduced to desperation, staggering like wounded animals, their time borrowed and running thin. But there was one among them who refused to fall without a fight.

Yui Kimura.

She was fast, sharp-witted and stubborn as hell. Caleb had chased her across these damned streets, through shattered buildings and over the warped gallows. She had vaulted, juked, and twisted her way out of his reach more times than he cared to count. His patience had worn thin, his hands aching to cut this chase short.

Now, she was cornered.

His keen eye spotted her huddled low behind an old wagon, her body taut, fingers pressing against a wound he had delivered earlier. The crimson stain against her torn sleeve told him what he needed to know. She was weakening.

Caleb exhaled. Settling the weight of his rifle against his shoulder. One well-placed shot, one squeeze of the trigger and it would be over. He aligned his sights. His finger tensed.

And then you appeared.

You had been running toward safety, clear of his reach, your escape route wide open towards an opened exit gate. But instead of vanishing into the fog like any sensible survivor would, you turned. And ran back.

Straight toward the saloon.

Straight toward them.

Caleb hesitated.

His finger hovered over the trigger, his grin faltering for the briefest second. He had seen panic before. He had seen desperation, raw and wretched, as men clawed at the dirt to get away from him. But this? This was something else.

This wasn’t fear.

This was sacrifice.

Your reckless, stupid, godforsaken heroism sent a slow, amused snarl curling over his lips. He admired grit, respected those with enough iron in their spine to fight back, but what you had just done? That was pure foolishness.

He realigned his sights and steadied his aim. The rifle cracked, the harpoon slicing through the air in a deadly whistle.

Yui had no time to react.

But you did.

The iron spear punched through your shoulder, the impact ripping the air from your lungs before you even realized what had happened. Your world tilted as the force sent you sprawling backward, boots scraping against the dust-coated ground. The chain snapped tight and yanked you toward him with ruthless precision.

You hit the dirt hard.

A strangled cry tore from your throat as you skidded toward him, pebbles biting into your skin, the searing pain of the harpoon digging deep into flesh. Caleb didn’t move, didn’t flinch, just reeled you in, watching with an eerie calm as you clawed at the dirt, your body trembling from shock.

Then, at last, you were beneath him.

Looming, towering and waiting.

His shadow stretched over you, the barrel of his rifle lowering slightly, though the chain still remained taut in his grip. His ghostly, sunken eyes, shadowed beneath the brim of his hat, raked over you with something unreadable.

“You really are a damned fool, ain’t ya?” His voice was slow, deep, like rusted iron grinding over old bone.

Your chest heaved. You could feel the warm trickle of blood soaking your sleeve, the pain unbearable. But you had done it. Yui was gone. Running. Safe.

The realization flickered in Caleb’s gaze.

A chuckle rumbled low in his throat, though there was no real humor behind it. His amusement had curdled into something darker, something more intrigued. He pressed the sole of his boot lightly against your ribs. Not hard enough to crush, just enough. A reminder that you were at his mercy now.

“You got a death wish, darlin’?” His voice dipped lower, hushed, almost soft, like a secret between sinners. “Throwin’ yourself in front of my gun like that?” His fingers tightened around the rifle, muscles in his forearm tensing. “Ain’t had someone do that in a long time.”

You braced yourself for the hook. For the end.

But it didn’t come.

Instead, Caleb hesitated.

He had every reason to end this right now, to drag you screaming to a hook, to leave you gasping for air as the Entity claimed you.

And yet…

Something about the way you had offered yourself… Not to save yourself, but for another, struck something primal in him. A desire.

A possessive craving.

Something that made him want to keep you, not just kill you. Because that kind of loyalty? That recklessness?

It had potential.

That flicker of interest was your only chance.

With a sharp cry, you wrenched yourself free.

Pain shot through your body like wildfire, the wound in your shoulder ripping wider as you tore against the chain’s hold. The harpoon slid loose with a sickening squelch. And suddenly, the world was spinning as you stumbled to your feet and ran.

Caleb cursed, lunging forward, his chain snapping as he tried to grab you, but you were already sprinting, fueled by agony and desperation.

You didn’t look back.

Didn’t dare.

The saloon blurred around you, the ruined gallows looming like an omen. Caleb was already chasing, his boots pounding against the dirt, his rifle swinging downward to fasten his approach.

But then you saw it.

The hatch.

Your only way out.

With a final, ragged gasp, you threw yourself forward. The ground vanished beneath you as you plummeted, the fog swallowing you whole.

The hunt was over.

Caleb skidded to a halt, boots grinding against the dirt. The hatch let out a final thunk as it sealed itself, leaving nothing but silence in its wake.

For a long moment, he simply stared.

His chest heaved, not from exertion, but from something else entirely. Something unexpected. A slow, twisted grin curled over his lips, his jaw cracking in the process, his fingers tightening around the rifle’s grip.

That was new. That was interesting.

His fluorescent white gaze flickered over the empty spot where you had vanished.

Oh, he’d see you again. Because now? Now you were more than just another survivor. Now, you were his obsession.

And Caleb Quinn never let go of what he deems to be interesting.

The Executioner

The walls of Midwich Elementary School groaned under the weight of something ancient, something wrong. The air hung thick with decay, saturated with the acrid stench of rust and stagnant rot. It was as if the building itself had absorbed suffering, the very bones of its foundation tainted with the echoes of long-forgotten agony. Shadows pulsed unnaturally in the dim light, twisting along the broken tiles, whispering through cracked walls. The voices were not human.And through the heart of this nightmare, he pursued.

A towering monolith of flesh and metal. His form is an instrument of judgment. Silent, relentless and a monstrous man deemed inevitable. He did not stalk like a man, nor did he hunt like a beast. He moved with the certainty of something that had no need to rush, something that would always find you in the end. The Great Knife dragged behind him. Its rusted, monstrous edge carving deep gashes into the bloodstained floor. The sound of metal grinding against tile was unbearable. A screech that set nerves alight, yet it is no more deafening than the suffocating weight of his presence.

Adam Francis ran. He had spent his life educating others, priding himself on patience and on reason. But here? In this twisted parody of a school? Reason meant nothing.

He could feel it closing in behind him. The sheer weight of its presence bore down on him, thick and suffocating, like a shroud wrapping around his throat. He dared not look back, his breaths ragged as he pushed forward and forcing his burning legs to carry him further.

The knife swung.

A sharp whistle cut through the air. A death sentence descending upon him…

But then, you moved. The metal door of a locker slammed open, the dull light reflecting in your panicked gaze as you threw yourself forward, barreling into Adam’s side.

Your body crashed into his with the force of a desperate savior, knocking him off his path, sending him sprawling onto the cold tiles just as the Great Knife carved through the air.

A sharp and searing pain ignited across your back.

You barely had time to scream before the sheer force of the blow ripped you from your feet, sending you hurtling onto the blood-slicked floor. The cold, unforgiving tiles met you with a crack, the breath torn from your lungs as your limbs collapsed beneath you.

Your vision blurred. The pain was immediate, a blistering agony radiating across your spine where the blade had nearly cleaved you in two. Your fingers curled weakly against the ground, shaking, struggling to push yourself upright.

And then… Silence.

Adam’s footsteps faded into the distance, a fleeting comfort.

A shadow loomed over you. Impossibly vast and suffocating in its abyssal presence that swallowed everything in its path. The air itself quivered beneath his weight. The world recoiling as if it knew what lingered above you.

Slowly and deliberately, he stepped forward.

The Great Knife plunged into the ground beside you with a sickening crash, the sheer force rattling the earth beneath your trembling frame. The bloodstained steel quivered, buried deep in the floor beside your face. A statement.

Your breath came shallow and trembling, your body frozen as something huge, unseen, and utterly consuming filled the space between you.

The Executioner was watching you. From beneath that terrible, rusted helm, his unseen gaze bore into you. Studied you.

Your pain. Your sacrifice. Your willingness to suffer for another.

It was not fear that bound you in place.

It was the sheer, overwhelming intensity of his presence.

A gloved hand, which was massive and inhumanly strong, reached out. The white leather of his fingers, slick with blood, traced the line of your trembling jaw. The touch was shockingly delicate.

A shiver crawled down your spine. An instinctive reaction to the sheer power coiled within him.

He lingered. His fingers curled slightly, almost testing. Measuring the fragile warmth of your skin, the rapid thunder of your pulse against his fingertips.

For the first time, something shifted in the Executioner.

And in that moment, where pyramid head stood rigid, you did the only thing you could.

You ran.

Your body screamed in protest, every nerve aflame, but you did not stop. You pushed past the pain, past the overwhelming pull of the Executioner’s unseen gaze, and ran through the endless halls of this cursed place.

The shadows clawed at your heels, the darkness twisting with each turn. You could feel him following, his footfalls heavy. He did not chase in haste.  Because he did not need to. He was inevitable. You were no different, in that regard.

But then, the hatch.

Like a beacon in the endless dark, it hummed just ahead.

With the last of your strength, you threw yourself forward.

And the fog swallowed you whole.

The trial was over.

The Executioner stood at the edge of the empty space where you had vanished, the silence pressing against him like a vice.

His great knife, still drenched in fresh blood, lowered.

Slowly, his free hand curled into a fist, the phantom warmth of your skin still clinging to his fingers.

The moment played again in his mind. Your breathless defiance, your willingness to bleed for another. The way your body had trembled beneath his touch, not from fear… Not entirely at least. But from something else, too.

You had changed something.

And now, you were his to seek, and to find.

The rusted helm tilted slightly, as if listening to something far beyond human comprehension.

It was not over. Not even close.

Because no matter where you ran, no matter how many times you escaped… The Executioner would come for you this time.

And next time?

You would not escape him.

The Knight

The air was thick with the stench of burning wood and rotting flesh, smoke curling in dark plumes through the ruined remnants of Shattered Square. What had once been a thriving settlement of merchants and craftsmen had been reduced to a battlefield of blood and embers, its people long gone, their suffering permanently etched into the scorched ruins and broken cobblestone. The streets were littered with the remnants of a life now lost in time. Shattered pottery, splintered carts, iron tools abandoned in the dirt. All remnants of a struggle that had ended long before this trial began.  But the trial was not yet over.

Thalita Lyra ran.

Her breath came in ragged bursts and her limbs trembled with exertion as she tore through the crumbling marketplace, past the skeletal remains of merchant stalls and overturned wagons. Her heartbeat pounded against her ribs, a frantic drum of fear and survival.

And behind her, he followed.

The Knight.

A towering presence of steel and death, his body encased in armor blackened by soot and battle. His crimson surcoat, though singed and tattered from the flames, still billowed with every step, the deep red standing stark against the plated steel beneath. A war banner of a man, a conqueror draped in the colors of blood.

He did not rush. He did not need to. His Guards had done their part.  The Jailer’s chains had nearly dragged her down, the Assassin’s blade had come within a whisper of splitting flesh. But he did not rely on them. There was no evading him.

A shadow loomed.

A flash of steel.

The Knight’s zweihänder sliced through the air, a lethal arc of gleaming death.

Thalita’s body twisted at the last moment, barely dodging the strike, but she had nowhere left to run.

Her foot caught on debris, and she hit the ground hard, her body barely able to brace for the impact.

The Knight took one step forward, the weight of his presence pressing down like an executioner looming over the condemned. His zweihänder rose, the tip gleaming with flickering embers of the fires still burning in the ruins.

A sudden blur. The impact was sudden, your shoulder colliding with the steel plating of his side, the force of your weight crashing into his armored frame with everything you had. It was a fool’s act.

His steel-clad arm barely budged against the force of your impact, but it was enough. The zweihänder stopped mid-swing, the momentum of his blade shifting ever so slightly, his body barely shifting from your impact. You may as well have thrown yourself against a fortress.

But that single moment, that single hesitation, was all Thalita needed.

Enough for Thalita to push herself up, stumbling onto her feet, her body swaying as she regained balance. Without looking back, she turned and disappeared into the thickening smoke, her form swallowed by the ruins.

The air around you felt heavier, thick with something indescribable as the battlefield fell into silence.

The Knight's visor tilted downward, the slitted gaze beneath it locking onto you for the first time.

Your chest heaved, your heart a frenzied drumbeat beneath your ribs. Pain shot through your limbs from the force of the collision, but you did not dare to move.

You stood firm.

For someone else, you had placed yourself in his path.

For someone else, you had intervened.

Something shifted in the Knight’s imposing stance.

He had seen many things in these wretched trials. Cowards, warriors, fools who thought they could outlast him.

But this?

This was different.

His gauntleted fingers flexed against the hilt of his zweihänder.

The feeling drummed against his ribs, an unfamiliar rhythm that had no place in a battlefield. It was something new, something he had not felt in so long he had forgotten it existed at all.

His own heartbeat.

Steady. Strong. And faster than ever before.

He exhaled slowly, the sound of it low and controlled beneath his helmet.

For the first time, he did not feel like a warrior in pursuit of his duty. He did not feel like a mere extension of the Entity’s will, nor just another commander of its cruel games. You stepped back, already turning to run away.

With terrifying precision, his free hand lashed out. A hand that could crush bone, that had twisted the life from so many before.

The metal of his gauntlets was slick with blood as his fingers closed around your throat.

A sharp gasp left your lips. Your hands flew up, fingers soon clawing against the unyielding steel, desperately seeking a weakness, a gap, anything that would loosen his grip. But there was no weakness to find. You struggled, your body twisting, your feet digging into the dirt, trying to pull away- to break free. But his hold remained unyielding. He did not tighten his grip. He did not choke you, did not crush your windpipe as he so easily could have. He simply held you there. Like a hunter inspecting his catch.

As if he did not understand why he was doing it at all.

The battlefield around you still burned, the air thick with the scent of blood and smoke, yet he paid it no mind. His focus was solely on you.

Alive. Mortal. Temporary. The words tumbled through his head like an echo. Foreign and unfamiliar, pressing into his thoughts in ways he could not explain.

You were not supposed to matter.

And yet, as you struggled, as you fought against his grip, he remained still, his gaze hidden beneath his visor, locked onto you in silent contemplation.

You were so fragile.

His armor was cold and unyielding. The heavy plating pressing lightly against your skin. He could not feel the warmth of your body beneath his grip. His gauntlets prevented that.

But he could see the rapid rise and fall of your chest. Could see the way your pulse fluttered at your throat. Could see your face, up close for the first time. Not a fleeting glimpse across the battlefield.

Not another nameless soul in the Fog.

But you.

For a single moment, you stopped struggling.

You stilled beneath his grip, your breath ragged but steadying, your body no longer thrashing against his hold.

You were watching him now.

Just as he was watching you.

A war machine and a mortal. A killer and a survivor.

Then…

The distant roar of the final generator hissed through the burning air.

A sharp stinging pain tore across his grip as you wrenched free. Your nails digging into the cracks of his armor, breaking his hold with a sudden twist of your body.

The Knight’s fingers curled into a tight fist. The memory of your form still fresh against his palm.

Your figure blurred through the smoke and ruin, your form becoming smaller, vanishing into the distance as you sprinted toward one of the exit gates. One that is now open.

He followed.

His heartbeat still thundered in his ears, still demanded answers he did not yet understand.

He would not let you go so easily.

The exit gates gleamed ahead.

With the last of your strength, you threw yourself past them, the fog consuming you whole.

The trial was over.

Tarhos came to a halt.

His armored boots pressed against the dirt. The black spikes of the Entity’s barriers protruding from the ground and keeping him from taking another step.

His blade lowered, his breath slow and controlled beneath his helmet.

His body remained still, but inside, something was not.

That unfamiliar rhythm remained, refusing to fade, a presence in his body that he could not explain.

It lingered.

He lifted his free hand, fingers uncurling, staring at the space where you had once been.

His visor tilted slightly, as if contemplating, as if searching for something invisible.

His head turned back upward, his gaze lingering on the empty horizon where you had disappeared into the Fog.

He had cut down countless warriors, cowards, fighters and survivors alike.

He had hunted many who dared to defy him.

But you?

You had stirred something inside him.

A slow, deliberate step backward. Then another. He sheathed his zweihänder with practiced ease.

The battlefield still burned around him, but his mind was elsewhere. Because you had become something more than just another survivor. Something worth seeking. Something worth keeping.

The Knight turned, stepping back into the blackened ruin of Shattered Square.

He would see you again.

The Oni

The ancient halls of the Yamaoka Estate groaned beneath the weight of time. Wind screamed through broken shoji doors, carrying whispers of the dead across splintered wood and blood-slicked floors. Once serene, the garden had become a shrine to carnage. Maple leaves soaked in crimson and stone lanterns streaked with violence.

David Tapp was running.

He had been running since the moment he saw it. A monstrous figure emerging from the fog and roaring with the fury of a thousand condemned souls.

The Oni.

Not a man. Not even a killer. A legend of wrath made manifest.

David's lungs burned as he tore through the ruined courtyard, the world spinning around him. His legs were lead, his body bruised and battered and every step scraped against the edge of collapse. The splintered and rotting torii gate loomed ahead. A gateway to nowhere.

The Oni was upon him, crashing through the mists like a force of nature. His kanabo scraped deep trenches into the ground. A grotesque extension of his rage. His veins pulsed with glowing fury and his eyes locked on the prey just within reach.

He had him. He would end it.

That was until you suddenly stepped between them.

A blur. Fragile. Human. But in that instant, you were unshakable. You weren’t a survivor. You weren’t prey. You were defiance itself. Flinging yourself between death and the man it hunted.

The Oni struck without being able to stop himself. The kanabo came down with the force of a landslide, cleaving the air with a sound that seemed to tear the very sky apart. There was no time to scream, no moment to flinch. It was too fast.

It did not hit David.

It struck you.

Your body absorbed the brunt of the blow with a sickening crunch. Bones groaning under the unimaginable weight. You were lifted off your feet and hurled across the courtyard like a broken doll. The world spun as you hit the stones, then fell still. Blood filled your mouth. Your vision blurred, mud and blood mixing into an distinguishable haze. Pain wasn't even pain anymore. It was a roaring silence that swallowed your senses whole.

But David was safe.

That was all that mattered.

And yet, the killing blow never followed.

A shadow loomed. The Oni stood over you, massive and seething, his aura flickering with scarlet fury. His breath came in ragged gusts. Fogging the space between you. The kanabo trembled in his grip.

He stared.

And in that heartbeat, he knew.

He had waited a lifetime to feel something like this again. Not rage. Not vengeance. Something else.

But you moved.

Your fingers clawed into the cold, wet earth, slipping once, then finding purchase. The taste of blood coated your tongue, metallic and thick. Your chest heaved as your breath rasped like a dying fire, but still you pulled one knee under you, then the other. You forced yourself upright, trembling, swaying… And standing.

It wasn't just pain that kept you grounded. It was purpose. A desperate, flickering will to survive.

He saw it.

The thought alone of you escaping him sent a surge of fury tearing through his soul. His veins flaring like molten rivers of crimson.

The Oni's eyes burned brighter, a mixture of surprise and rage twisting within the holes of his mask. For a moment, he hesitated, his kanabo lowering ever so slightly.

Then he surged forward, a growl tearing from his throat, muscles flexing as he lunged like a living avalanche. But mid-stride, his fury refocused. He did not want you dead.

With a swift motion, he discarded the kanabo, letting it crash into the earth behind him. From thin air, he drew his katana. Sleek, precise, restrained. It gleamed faintly. A blade not meant to kill this time, but to cut a path to capture.

He wanted you alive.

He would take you with one hand if he had to.

But he was too late.

Your body lurched forward, driven by instinct and terror, your feet dragging through leaves and broken stone as you fled through the mist.

You kept moving, despite the heavy strides that followed you from up close. Lungs on fire, every step pulled from a reserve of strength you didn’t know you had. Stones slipped beneath you. The world narrowed to the gate ahead.

And you ran through it.

Behind you, The Oni roared. But not in triumph.

He reached the edge of the open field, only to be met by the Entity’s cruel barrier. Ebony spikes erupted from the ground, halting him mid-charge. His katana struck one of them with a deafening clang, sending sparks into the eternal night.

He growled low, the sound echoing like thunder trapped in his chest. His aura pulsed around him, wild and furious, but restrained.

He would not forget this.

He had waited a lifetime to feel something other than rage. And now, it was already slipping through his fingers.

He glared into the darkness where you'd vanished, the fog already swallowing your trail. But the trial was not over. Not for him.

He would find you again. Inside the Fog. Inside one of his trials.

And next time, there would be no escape.

[angstyhikka]

His friends encouraged him to pose for a street artist. Like, go show off yourself, hero! He stands there, embarrassed. Trying to pose :)))

I've made sooooo many cool pictures with Caleb and swords, you'll be blown away! There are three posts, and each one has a context! Yapi!! :D

In the next three days, expect pictures under the title "Caleb with a sword" because Hikka planned to do those for months =3=

[strawberryfanaticccc]

u ever see a man so hot & so fine that ur just left speechless, u stutter over ur words, u can’t even finish ur sentences

[doctrined]

⠀ &͟&͟.

⠀⠀ LUCID DREAMS ⁎ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 恋徒 ⠀ ֵ

“𝑅𝑈𝐿𝐸𝑆 𝐻𝐴𝐷 𝐴𝐿𝑊𝐴𝑌𝑆 𝐵𝐸𝐸𝑁 𝑆𝐼𝑀𝑃𝐿𝐸 𝐼𝑁 𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝑊𝑂𝑅𝐿𝐷. THAT IS.. until she came along and turned his world upside.” —- salem’s knight, a night of lucid dreams.

&. LUCID DREAMS: MEDIEVAL AU

• MDNI (Minors Do Not Interact)

• TW: Unrequited Love, Angst, Dark Themes, Hate-Love Trope, Drama, Emotional Manipulation, Self-Doubt, Violence, Heartbreak

• FIC INFO:

• Setting: Medieval Era AU, featuring a Princess and her loyal, yet conflicted knight.

• Themes: The complex, tormented relationship between Caleb (the knight) and the princess MC. Love and hatred intertwine as they struggle against their desires, promises unkept, and duty’s unyielding grip.

• Genre: Angst, Drama, Romance (with a slow-burn love-hate dynamic), Dark Fantasy

tags; @alevres @icedoatlatte29 @starlitfool @rcvcgers @puckpuckvt @jadeloverxd @spacenott @marina27826 @starkdarya @darkx143

synopsis: ❛ Greed. ❜

It was the first word I ever whispered.

The second was Kale, a name laced with the hollow sweetness of devotion, a name that meant everything to me. But greed festered in the spaces between the syllables, twisting it, twisting him. And when he showed me—it was never Kale. It was Caleb.

And then, the world showed me I could not love him. I should not love him. Not him. Not the boy I thought a brother, the one who recoiled from my touch, the one who despised me for loving him in the first place.

So, he became Caleb the loathsome.

They found him on the battlefield, a savior of war, a broken thing wrapped in glory. And the whispers—they spread like poison, a slow, suffocating venom in the halls of Galdoria.

And thus, the serpent came—the one that sank its fangs deep into my soul, feeding me venom that tasted like him. He was the poison, the hunger, the disease I could never rid myself of. The world told me I was broken, that I was nothing more than an empty vessel of desire, a creature to be gawked at by men, but never to be desired by the one I wanted most.

I wanted him.

I wanted him with a ferocity that burned me alive. That was my sin. To want what I could never have. To long for the one who could never see me the way I saw him.

He was everything I could not touch.

And yet—he was the only one who could see the hunger in my eyes and let it burn. He made me understand. He made me see the ugliness in the idea of us. He showed me that my desires were not innocent. That I, too, was tainted. That I was no longer a princess.

I was a woman who could want and be wanted. A woman who could be destroyed.

But the worst part is, he ruined me—destroyed me in the most exquisite way. His love, if it could be called love, came wrapped in agony, wrapped in pain, wrapped in devastation. He tore me apart, shattered the princess I had been, and put me back together, but not as I was before. Not as the woman I was meant to be.

But as something darker.

Something hungry.

He was the hunger consuming me alive. A man who wasn’t afraid of death, but feared me. A mute who only ever wanted her knight’s love, her knight’s first kiss, her knight’s first everything. And he did it, but only at the cost of devastation, ripping us apart, tearing my soul to pieces and piecing me back together like poetry.

And when the serpent bit me, when society turned its eyes away in disgust, it took my voice. It took my words. My tongue, my lips, my lungs—they were no longer mine. They were his.

It silenced me.

But in that silence, I found the woman I was always meant to be.

Not a princess. Never a princess.

A woman who could take. A woman who could destroy. A woman who ruled, not by the title I was born to, but by the hunger that consumed me.

Did that stop me from fighting back?

Did it stop me from pulling my knight from the clutches of war—dragging him to me, back to me, even when he rejected me?

Even when he rejected us?

VERSE O1. pagans surely bleed, and the sky bows in worship. surely the humans too.. can see the chaos in a mind numbed to pain. surely, a man such as him—-divine in utter power, seething with raw possession—could understand that I was the pagan. a ritual left undone, a prayer uttered halfway, a woman in dire need of his acceptance. but see, flowers wilt, the seas rage, and i, standing at the shore, watched his dark eyes swallow me whole. my lips burned while his remained untouched, my fingers ached whilst he only drew further and further away from me. so I ask myself—-do I rage? do I rage for the stars? or for the man who refuses to come to terms with the revelation of us?” —- CALAMITY, a princess on the run.

I. “ I FUCKING BLED. and so did he, that I was certain of. ”

chapter two:

CHAPTER ONE

Ravenous thunder latched on in mere desperation to cling to the raging source of the downpour. As far as desperation went, I believe we all had a moment in life. A rarity where you must beat all odds for a miracle, for a hope that clung to life. Was your desperation clinging to something more meaningful? A new country? Love? Or maybe… an adventure? I don’t know what you struggled for, I don’t know the… desperation your heart hides nor the pain you swallow at the tight clench of your jaw and the sweep of your gaze tucking away an anguish one cannot decipher. But this was mine. I ran to chase away my misery. It came in the sweet, forbidden coveting of a man who just failed… to see me. It’s pathetic, the lies we chase, the demons we hide under our beds. The skeletons in the closets are worst, but dare I say, catching my breath as thunder poured its wrath onto me, slowing my steps. My legs ached, my chest constricted, and my tears, not a single soul could see, streamed down my cheeks with rain drowning them in fresh rainwater. But I pushed until my eyes caught sight of his carriage. It was obsidian black with a king’s symbolic sword displayed on the back. Everyone knew who it belonged to, no one needed a reminder, because that was him. The man, the myth.

“CALEB!” Was that my voice? Unrecognizable, torn and seeping with sadness, it broke through the rain. I don’t know how he heard me, much less the carriage rider, but it stopped, so did my heart when he stepped out. Relief was instant, but so was regret, anger, hatred because how dare he leave me behind? How dare he pretend I was nothing but a mere soul who’d meant nothing, who was of no value? Yet, as the distance ceased, and I pushed until my vision blurred, at the last drag of my breath, a grunt sounded by my ear. Arms caught me first thing before I crushed against his taut chest. Still solid, strong, and warm. My desperation was the sling of my arms winding around his neck, a choked sob wrecking past my lips. Just as words of hatred eased past my lips, his thudding heart uttered what his lips failed.

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

“If you knew, then why must you do this to me? Do you find it amusing? Is my misery…” And I cried, for the first time, pathetically, miserably because I was desperate for him, desperate for his love. Even as he crushed me into him, holding me so tightly as if I might vanish before his eyes. I’d like to believe promises meant something to people. Promises, of course, brought hope and at the same time, held the power to mend the broken. So, I thought the one I loved would always stand by my side and love me, truly love me the way that I had surrendered my soul to him. I was wrong, so wrong. I thought I meant something to him just because I willingly allowed my soul to tether, and to bind my heart to his. I loved him, loved him until my lungs ached and burned for his lips to cease that burn in the pit of my belly. Instead, my lover left me stranded. Affairs were the worst, cheating lovers, and liars, nay? But mine chose duty over me, and I watched him, helplessly untangle my arms from around his neck. Not a word had formed on his tongue, yet heat, the one betraying ache of insanity, remained infused, glaring at me, telling me to believe, to know he felt the same.

Did he feel the same, though? Did you, Caleb?

Instead, violet eyes bore into mine with a hardening gaze, soft as a puppy’s, and pleaded. Pleaded for what? My mind raced, the clatter of my teeth chattered as cold seeped in, dread followed, and I shook my head, staggering a step back.

“S—so that’s it? You’re not even going to acknowledge our feelings? What we both feel?” My voice sounded foreign to my own ears, making me cringe, but did it matter when my heart was being slaughtered, torn mercilessly? And there was nothing but silence from him.

Complete and utter silence.

“Caleb—”

“Don’t.” He cut in sharply, his voice rough and thick with emotions, betraying his usually controlled demeanor. It broke me.

Still remember my earlier words? About desperation. Well, this was the grave I dug with my own two hands, without mercy. It was ruthless, the way he watched me, stepping back, willing me to return to the castle. What cruel fate, no—what a cruel lie I’d fed myself, thinking I was strong enough to love him, thinking the first words forming on his tongue would be of love. Nay, I watched him turn, get back in the carriage, the relentless rain never once ceasing, even as it soaked us both. It never stopped for me. How much hope had garnered in this heart of mine? Ached for his love, aching to be the one to fill those cold, distant eyes with a mischievous glint.

Everything hurt. My lungs burned with thirst to quench a hunger I no longer understood, my hands trembled, but worst of all, I remained where I was, rooted, watching as the sky took sudden pity. It slowed its rage, and light flecks of drops grazed my cheeks where tears numbed, no longer streamed. Yet, was it a lie? Because at the jutting of my chin, lifting to the sky, a fresh pool of them gathered at my eyes, and I wept with laughter, empty inside. I stood there, abandoned, watching his carriage disappear into the misty horizon. My heart ached with the heavy weight of abandonment, but there was something else too—something darker. He hadn’t even tried to look back.

I lingered in the rain, feeling each droplet fall upon me like another weight added to my already fragile heart. With every beat, I could almost hear his silence.

[enjolrevoir]

tee hee I bought myself some mini prints from @littlestpersimmon (bottom right), @shamedumpster (top right) and @/macedraws (left) and they finally arrived!! so excited I could throw up

ft. the wall in my dorm they live on 😋🫶

if you can actually locate these very tiny prints on this very large and cluttered wall you get a kiss on the forehead for perseverance and commitment

[seraphiiem]

Fav boys from dbd (´• ω •`) (the Wraith gift for lovely friend :3)