Elyon - Tumblr Posts
Elusive and exorbitantly expensive, blue orchids are coveted by the wealthy few who can afford them.
Buyers who purchase the flowers flaunt them as symbols of status. Little do they know that these are ordinary white orchids injected with cheap blue dye... 💸
Treasure Me
Elyon x reader. You’re a bartender that works at the Wet Wick and when Elyon meets you he finds himself with feelings he’s not accustomed to. Reader is a hopeless romantic that wants love, while Elyon doesn’t believe in it till he becomes a victim of it. SFW, written in Elyon’s perspective.
Taking inspiration from a fanfic called Kintsugi by Leanderfields
———————————————————————
You were dozing off between the state of sleep and wake in bed. Your back to Elyon, who spooned you tightly with his hands splayed wide on your lower abdomen.
What a splendid creature you were to Elyon, a beaut with extraordinary courage and heart. To think you were just around the block of his store, working at a shabby bar frequently occupied by the Bloodhounds.
It was ironic to Elyon that he, who only viewed sex as a commodity and fleeting pleasures, found love with one that viewed it as so intimate and precious, that which he found ridiculous at first, till proven otherwise when he fell madly in love with you.
At first, Elyon felt you were delusional believing in true love. For an owner of the most successful brothel in Hightown, true love was simply for the fairy tale books. And then you came along, with your unabashedly genuine heart, your disinterest for the materials and luxury’s thrown at you, for what you seek was beauty within another, and reciprocation of your love. What a mess you made out of him, destroying everything that he prized himself and the world for. Power, money, status. But you didn’t want any of that. And if you were gifted it, you would accept it with indifference, glassy-eyed, or deny it, for it was of no use to you.
Your existence previously invisible was noticed, and you became a nuisance to him. Catching you at a cafe nose deep in an old romance novel, cover frayed and pages yellowing, yet eyes sparkling with joy and wonder at the words painting pictures he couldn’t imagine. Seeing you talk to your friends from across the street, smile splitting your face and cheeks rosy from laughter, and how he wished you looked at him that way one day, to bask in the soft glowing aura of your presence. From the window of the Wet Wick, he can see you working, drying glasses with a towel. It became routine for him to catch a glance of you every morning before work. Only one day, you were talking to the green-eyed mage, shamelessly flirting with you and tucking a stray hair behind your ear gently with a knowing smile then proceeding to caress your cheek, causing your face to flush and in reaction swatting your towel at his arms playfully. Watching this through the window, Elyon’s heart stirred, swiftly leaving the scene so he wouldn’t make a fool out of himself. In his office, he replayed the scene inside his head while his hand occupied a glass of wine, wondering your relations with the mage and trying to ignore his heart rapidly beating inside his chest, hoping what he assumed wasn’t true and that you weren’t in fact already someone else’s. And if you were, he just had to steal you from them, for he could treat you much better, lavish you with love and attention, and make you the happiest.
To want another person to be happy. It was a foreign feeling, but it came so easily to him when it came to you. He was a selfish man, for that he knew all too well. He wasn’t exactly known for his generosity amongst the nobles. Yet He found himself thinking of you when you weren’t there, mind often wondering of ways to lavish you with gifts— this perfume would be to their liking, this book they’d adore, this necklace bejeweled with diamonds would look exquisite around their delicate neck— and make you happy. In the middle of the night, you would plague his mind, and his hands would reach for your presence next to him, but only met with frigid sheets. Is this what it feels like to be in love? It was torture, tumultuous to his heart and ego that was so used to buying everything he wanted. But your heart wasn’t something he could buy. And nothing that he previously thought all he needed to gain one’s love, you cared for. What you cared for was so foreign in his life, he wasn’t adept at providing. Many a nobles he’s courted, slept with, voicing empty words of love and worship and that he would return with equal lack of passion. But you were a commoner that didn’t know of those courting formalities, and you had a keen intuitiveness that allowed you to see through others. Both of which was troublesome. Not only that, he didn’t win your favor. Quite the opposite. When Elyon had first met you, you voiced disdain for his lack of character in owning a business that you claimed sold bodies for a fake sense of comfort and acceptance. So he had to change tactics.
Little small steps was what he took to unwind you, to build his credibility, destroy the image you have of him as a heartless man, and though he’d admit that was an accurate observation, when it came to you, his heart overflowed with admiration, worship, and love, and that he wished you could see. And when his endeavors was able to chip your walls and he saw a flicker of a smile on your lips, he was over the moon. It was a slow process, but with a good progression, till you finally accepted his heart and bared yours to him.
Underneath the thin blue covers, Elyon drunk in your warmth next to him. He took your face gently and pressed a kiss to your lips, admiring how soft it was between his own. His thumb rubbed your waist affectionately. You groaned lightly underneath him, mumbling incoherent words cutely. The moon shone bright outside of the windowsill, and your face illuminated like an Angel sent from heaven. He admired your hair and how it swirled around you. He could smell the strawberry shampoo with a touch of citrus honey. He kissed your lips again, this time you were fast asleep. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, gently caressing your soft cheek with his thumbs like you were a porcelain doll. So close, he could hear the lull thudding of your heart against his bare skin, the best sound to put him to sleep.
Your heart was the most precious thing he could possess. Others could take his innumerable expensive trinkets and jewels, clothing, furnitures, his entire fortune for all he cared. But you were the one thing he’d allow nobody else to take from him.
You were his one and true treasure.