#The Sea Spirit Festival | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thinemoonshine · 6 months ago

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༄LECHE OF THE SIRENS.ೃ࿔*

corrupt!enhypen ot7 x siren!reader warning(s): the boys being downright disgusting, reverse harem, mature themes, obsessive and possessive behaviours, (y/n) is manipulative and puts them in their place, unconventional 'love' type: mini series word count: 10.4k

seven nobles who are corrupt meets a girl akin to a celestial being. little do they know, that the maiden is anything but—as she is the bane to all abominable man, a siren.

𝓟𝓐𝓡𝓣 1

𝒮unghoon scoffs incredulously at his friend, Jongseong’s, decision to sneak into the prostitute house through the back door. “Don’t tell me you’re still playing the role of the refined, virtuous young lord?”

Jongseong clicks his tongue with a frown as he turns his face away from his deprecating friend. “I have to. If I wish to be the head of my house, I have to maintain a polished reputation. My father sees to it that I will.”

The young can only roll his eyes though a ghost of a smirk plays on his lips. “Oh, and you’re doing a very good job with that, aren’t you?”

“How is it that you’ve managed to keep your wickedness hidden?” Jaeyun asks with an arch of his brow.

“Because I’m smart,” Jongseong shamelessly confesses as he faces them once more. “I only use those with either nothing to gain…or everything to lose if they were to be acquainted with me—that includes the ladies.”

The other five of his friends, excluding Riki and Sunoo who seem to be disinterested in their venereal subjects, only stay silent at the side—arms crossed and deadpanned.

“Well then, the three of us will proudly enter through the main door while you have to sneak around like a little rat for daddy,” Heeseung mocks to which Jongseong frowns at but he tells no falsity.

He then turns to the youngest three with hands in his pockets. “What about you lot?”

Riki wraps an arm around Jungwon’s shoulders with a playful smirk. “We plan to watch them dance. They have a performance tonight.”

“And we’ve gotten the VIP tickets,” Won adds and pulls out two slips making Seong knit his brows.

“Only two?”

Sunoo raises a hand. “I’m staying out. The aromas they they use are headache inducing.”

“Suit yourself,” the oldest of the bunch says casually with a shrug before they all haughtily enter the establishment in the red district.

The lone member sigh watches them disappear before he retreats to the lively booths that line the roads. Various savoury smells and appetizing images of food bring delight—rekindling his spirit for fun. He’s always been fond of all types of delicacies.

“What would you like, young man?” The vendor asks Sunoo who so conspicuously eyes the food at his stall with stars in his eyes.

The customer grins happily, ear-to-ear before he speaks. “All of it!”

—

“I’ve eaten too much, ugh,” Sunoo groans and pats on the waistband of his high-waisted trousers that make his every move uncomfortable. Even breathing is distasteful with each inhale causing his slight bloated abdomen to strain against the band.

As he walks at the side of the now much serene and isolated street as it’s nearer the exit of the district, he halts in his steps at the sigh of a maiden standing near the shore of the sea.

She’s clothed in a ragged dress with the hems either disintegrated or chewed away by ants and its colour has faded to the point where one can’t exactly discern its original hue—whether grey or brown or beige or even white.

Furthermore, she lacks shoes—standing with her feet bare against the sand as she blankly stares at the water that rolls towards her toes but not close enough to touch.

Sunoo scowls, disturbed and mainly disgruntled by seeing an obtrusively nameless, untitled woman who so clearly does not belong in the festive and enchanting district. He’s about to turn away but the maiden does so first—meeting his glare that instantly softens to be filled with astonishment.

He’s awestruck.

The beauty the lass beholds is unlike any other. With eyes as clear and scintillating as the full moon yet deep and secretive like the depth of the seas, dewy skin that shimmers beneath the light, cheeks that bloom radiantly with life and lips pulled to the loveliest smile that the young noble has ever seen—she is mesmerizing.

So bewitching that it enthralls him—his every senses—to the point that he believes that she might not be human.

And for someone renowned as one of the most irresistible and pursued men of the time, that statement holds no exaggeration.

“What a beaut!” A man suddenly comes by with his friend. The two are dressed in fine suits and adorned with ostentatious accessories, displaying their wealth and rank in the social class yet their behaviour juxtaposes them.

Their faces are flushed and hair all tousled, clearly blotto.

“Which company are you from, huh?” The man hiccups as he approaches the mysterious girl who’s now focused on the pair. “Pretty girl like you wearing crappy clothes like this in this place can only mean two things.”

She remains still and silent with head lifted to look up at the taller man looming over her.

“One, you ran away. Two, you got thrown out because you’re not ‘performing’ well. Not…satisfying enough,” he continues with a drunken chuckle while his friend snickers.

The first sound emits from the girl when the latter roughly grasps her jaw in his hand, causing her to gasp. He hums as his eyes narrowed onto her. “DANG! With this typa face, tho! You’re too precious to he thrown! You ran away, huh?”

She takes a step back.

“No, no, don’t you dare run,” the man growls and now grapples her by the shoulder with his free hand. His face expresses displeasure but it soon shifts to a mischievous grin. “Why don’t we find out ourselves, hm? If there really is something wrong with ya.”

His hand unlatches from her jaw to travel down her neck to her collarbones and Sunoo, the only witness to the whole scene, turns on his heels to walk away.

‘She’s ravishing, but she’s still a shameful, used woman with nothing to her name,’ he thinks vainly and begins to step away. ‘Whatever happens is not my responsibility—and none will care either way.’

He begins his stroll but is compelled to turn once more at the sound of a painful grunt and he’s met with the view of the young woman biting the hand of her assaulter that rests on her shoulder before she kicks the other in his shin.

And with another swift motion, she retrieves an auger shell from the sand below them before slashing its sharp tip against their faces—almost stabbing one of them in the eye which leads to him stumbling backwards and crashing onto his arse.

“YOU WHXRE!!” The one on his feet roars with pure wrath and the gaze in his bloodshot eyes is baneful. He plans to end the girl right where she stands.

But just as many times before, she stays mute and skillfully dodges him with a mere bend to the side—his drunken self too wobbly to move as agile as he wishes. And right when his back faces her from his reckless offense, she stabs the shell into the flesh of his back without a single blink. Once, twice—and thrice.

His wail of pain cuts through the tranquility of the night as he falls onto his palms and knees into the water. Blood flows rapidly from his three wounds despite them being quite tiny. She dug them deep enough.

“Take him with you,” is all the girl says to the one trembling with fright and thus, forced to sobriety—his face blanched and the centre front of his trousers carrying a warm, dark patch.

He pathetically crawls to his injured friend and carries him onto his back before hasting away like a scurrying rodent.

She who remains behind observes as they further away before dropping the bloody shell and inhaling, exhaling, as if to calm herself—ignoring the second presence who stares her from afar with wonder in his widened eyes and cheeks in a faint rosy tint.

He already found her entrancing enough by a mere glance, but now, seeing what she’s capable of, seeing how a true gem she is, he’s utterly spellbound. And he truly must be because he’s completely unaware of her approach until she stands before him with an arm’s length between them.

“Why did you not aid me?” She queries and the sound of her voice tickles his ears, causing his hair to rise and his insides tingle with a rush of sparks he’s never felt before. “Why leave?”

Sunoo looks down at her as his breaths slow, the adrenaline that courses through him from just watching her beginning to calm. “…There was no reason for me to help. You are an insignificant stranger and neither did saving you will benefit me in any way.”

“How cruel,” she says yet, those words hold no criticism or any sort of sentiment. It’s simply a statement, an observation and still, the softness and tune of her voice in which she uses to speak—a most subtle raise in pitch at the end—makes it seem as if she’s…amused. “It’s a shame you think of me in such way when I think of you so highly.”

The other maintains his position as she takes a small step forward. “What do you mean?”

“I was hoping to gain your attention. I’ve been seeing you since before, Sunoo,” she continues and her knowledge of his name befuddles him. He should be interrogating her, demand answers as to how she knows of his identity however, the fact that she seems to be interested in him outweighs any other thought.

His face mantles and long pretty lashes framing his foxy eyes flutter at his flustered rapid blinking. “Y-you have?”

She nods her head and he’s never seen someone conduct a simple action so gracefully, especially so with that sweet smile that resides on her face. “I think you’re a very noble man, Sunoo. To leave your friends as they fall victim to their insatiable desires… You are different.”

Sunoo is uncertain what it is about her words, but they always squeeze his heart as butterflies emerge in his stomach. And those gorgeous eyes…the bat of her lashes as she looks up at him, the unwavering tenderness in her gaze and undivided attention—it’s unalike any of the many, many he’s received in his life.

He wants more. He wants her. And if acting as a righteous, refined young lord is what it takes to ensnare her, he can play the role for as much as he needs to.

“It must be cold, isn’t it—to wear such a thin dress in this night breeze?” He begins and wears a beguiling smile that never fails to swoon those around him. “If you don’t mind, would you allow me to gift you with a few warm coats and dresses?”

The maiden shakes her head as she turns away. “It is fine. There is no place for me to put them, anyways.”

At this, the noble’s brows raise. “Do you…not have a place to stay?”

Her silence confirms his suspicion and as vile as it is, a sense of relief and delight fill him. An opportunity strikes.

Suppressing the urge to let his smile tilt to a cunning smirk, she asks the girl.

“Then, would you like to stay in my residence for the time being? There are plenty of rooms to offer and I would not mind the company…if you will have me.”

The other lifts her head to him and the expression on her face already tells him of her decision—widening his grin.

—

“He ditched us without a single notice and now he’s disappeared for a whole 2 weeks cooped up in his home?? That’s awfully suspicious, wouldn’t you think so?” Jongseomg clicks his tongue harshly, both annoyed and worried for one of their youngest as he stomps up the former’s grand staircase.

Being friends with one another has its perks, one of them being that they don’t require to send letters to inform them of their visits—their doors always open to each other.

“Maybe he’s been occupied with all his lessons? He told me he’s been slacking,” Jaeyun tries to assuage the older’s frustration but his only response is ignorance.

Five figures trail behind him and their paces fasten when they reach Sunoo’s floor. Their soles brushing against the squeaky clean tiles create rushed, dissonant shuffles and footsteps.

But before they can venture further down the corridor to his room, they’re forced to a halt at an unfamiliar sight—or to be exact, an unfamiliar person.

Slipping out of her room is a girl accoutred in a silk white dress that shimmers softly at every sway, its fabric hugging her chest, following the shape of her bosom down to her waist while its long skirt flows down in freely—allowing for as much stretch of her legs as she wishes.

Butterfly sleeves hide a majority of her upper arms with a sheer fabric layering the silk, creating a more sophisticated and elegant form. Her further adornments consist of a snowy gold bustier corset top to accentuate her frame while the frills that are sewn onto its upper edge give the illusion of being a part of the butterfly sleeves—making it seem as if she’s wearing an off-shoulder dress.

Her ensemble is an immaculate combination of extravagance and yet gracefulness. Whoever made it is surely an exquisite tailor.

Although, the 6 young men would know nothing about it considering they’re not able to dwell on her dress as they’re too busy gawking at the ethereal damsel that stands before them. They’ve seen many women before—some even doing more than seeing—and yet, they’re confident to declare that they’ve never seen one quite like her.

She’s breathtaking in a way where it’s inhuman. As if she’s an extraterrestrial being—or a creature of myth that tends to lure unprotected, vulnerable men like they are at the moment just to bring them to their demise.

A lethal beauty.

Unlike them however, (y/n) merely shifts her glance between them just to identify. Not once does her eyes widen and sparkle nor do her cheeks flush from the fluster of meeting such unrealistically gorgeous young men who can instantly bring anyone—and anything—below their feet.

“(y/n), why did you—Oh,” Sunoo sounds—tone shifting from curious to blunt indifference.

His presence that exits from the same chamber (y/n) emerged from instantly rouse suspicion and intrigue in his friends.

Jaeyun scoffs. “So, this is what this was all about? You’ve found yourself a woman and decide that you’d rot in your mansion with her—neglecting your own friends?”

Sunoo frowns as he shields (y/n) from their prying, scrutinizing eyes. He was never one to really care about their reprimands. “Neglect? It’s not like you’re all under my care. I’m not your parent who needs to coddle you.”

“Kim Sunoo, you know that isn’t what we mean,” Heeseung rebukes, a sharp and fierce glare on his otherwise doe eyes. “You vanished for 2 weeks with not a single word!”

“Do I need to inform you of my activities?” The younger hisses with his own eyes whetting and things would have escalated from the fire growing in the two if it isn’t for (y/n) placing a hand against her host’s arm.

His glower softens almost immediately as he shifts his focus onto the girl—his instant sickening his friends.

(y/n)’s voice is gentle, airy like the morning breeze as well as clear and alluring like the glistens of the water surface from the shining moonlight—charming one to stay and watch the waters glitter.

Or in terms of voice, seducing one to not just remain and hear but listen—just as how they all fall into an unanimous quiet.

“Should I leave?" She asks, shocking Sunoo terribly as dread fills him. The idea itself is horrifying. "It seems I might have overstayed my welcome."

Sunoo shakes his head vigorously. "No, no! Don't leave! I—They are just being rude, they know nothing."

His frantic behaviour that drips with desperation is both amusing and astonishing to his friends who have never seen him act so...pathetic before. He's always been the embodiment of sophistication, of grace to the point that it's boastful at times.

(y/n) looks up at him nervously, her brows tilted with worry. "But—"

"(y/n)," her host cuts her off as he cups her cheek, thumb caressing her skin tenderly. "Don't fret, hm? This is all just a small argument between my friends and I. Why don't you go back in and practice the new piece I taught you?"

Seeing no reason to refute, the girl nods and returns to the room she exited from with quiet nimble footsteps.

Sunoo's gaze that was warm and endearing turns frigid and stern the moment she disappears and he turns his head to his friends. "I'm not going to entertain this useless bicker between us so I suggest we digress. Leave, stay, I don't care what you do as long as you don't disturb us again. (y/n) is my guest and she will remain here for as long I will her and none of you are to defy that."

With one last warning glare, he turns away to join (y/n) whose melodious play can be hear from the momentary opening of the door before Sunoo slams it shut.

A deafening silence overtakes until Jaeyun clears his throat.

"You heard what he said so who's up for an impromptu sleepover?" He suggests with a playful, wide grin as he wiggles his dark brows at the others.

—

It's so fun being powerful. They can make anything happen with a flick of the wrist or a snap of their fingers. With just a simple order from them, those around them easily oblige—eager to execute every command. Just how they need not to lift a finger while their servants back home are panicked—rushing to pack clothes and other necessities for their young masters who so suddenly sent a letter informing them of their plans of staying at Master Sunoo's abode.

Jongseong scoffs as he recalls his maids and butlers running from the gates the moment their carriage arrived and pretending to be all calm and collected as they stood in front of him—as if their skin wasn't glistening with sweat and breaths weren't heavy as they pant.

Knock, knock!

He furrows at the abrupt interruption of his reminiscence and sits up on the bed to face the door. "Who is it?"

"It's (y/n)," the entrancing voice from before promptly straightens his posture as he springs onto his feet.

Clearing his throat and neatening his shirt while approaching the door, he abruptly halts at the ridiculousness of his own behaviour. Why is he trying to impress a poor, insignificant girl anyways? He already heard the talk from the servants on how Sunoo randomly brought her home while she was still in her rags and completely barefoot.

"What is it?" He utters with a heavy sigh as soon as he opens the door.

"Would you like some tea? I made it myself," (y/n) asks with a hopeful mien, eyes sparkling and lips in a small smile.

The other cocks up a brow skeptically. "You know how to brew tea?"

"I watched," she answers, deepening his skepticism.

Another long, unamused sigh leaves him. "Just get in."

She enters cheerily and sets down the tray on his little tea table while watches behind with arms crossed and gaze sharp.

“I thought it would be a nice welcome. Sunoo taught me that it’s good etiquette,” (y/n) says as she pours him a cup of warm tea with calculated, precise movements—shocking him, to be honest—and placing it down in front of him without a single tremor. “I hope you find it to your liking.”

Jongseong scoffs at his futile wish. He’s one of the most picky when it comes to his meals—always thinking none of is good enough and that includes how he enjoys his tea.

He had to personally teach his servants how to brew and how much sugar to be used to actually make one fitting his palate and even then, they still can’t satisfy him.

After a few gentle blows to cool down the hot drink, he brings the brim of the cup to his lips for his first sip and once again, receives another surprise. It’s…splendid. Such aroma and perfect balance between tea and sugar that spreads perfectly on his tongue and warming him from the inside—akin to sitting in front of the hearth during winter.

He lifts his gaze to meet with (y/n)’s as he lags to utter the words in his head—all of them jumbled from both disbelief and yet, amazement. “How did you make this? It’s exactly as how I prefer it to be.”

“I…um, I actually asked your servant beforehand on how you typically enjoy your tea,” (y/n) timidly answers as she stares at her fiddling fingers on her lap. “I apologize for not asking you myself and instead, intruding on your privacy.”

Strangely, he doesn’t mind very much although usually he would find it offensive that someone is investigating him through his servants. Instead, he finishes the rest of his tea before passing to her on its small plate. “Pour me some more.”

His request rekindles a discernible light onto her face as she physically perks up—eyes upturning and corners of her lips curling as she obliges. And Jongseong can’t help but admit that she looks…adorable.

For him to be able to control her mood with a few words or actions, he finds it amusing and truly lovable—so much so that he doesn’t notice how much time has passed with her sharing her experience living at the mansion while he merely sits and listen with a gentle smile retained on her face.

Only when the room darkens to the point the cups in front of them are almost unseen and their faces are shadowed does he finally, take note of the time.

“Oh! I’ve taken too much of your time. I should leave now,” (y/n) exclaims with alarm as she rushes to her feet while collecting all their cups and biscuits back onto the silver tray. With hands on her stomach, she then bows at Jongseong respectfully, bidding him goodbye before she lifts the tray and out she goes.

The lone man remains in his room as his servant enters to light the candles and lamps before leaving him to his own devices.

As much as he enjoys the silence, he never knew how lonely it can be…until today.

Strolling through the corridor is (y/n) who’s reminiscing her conversation with her guest before and a smile stretches itself onto her face. A glint sparks in her eye and a passing Sunghoon espies the ambiguous expression she wears but she disappears down the stairs quickly, ridding him of the opportunity to observe more.

His luxuriant dark brows knit in wonder as he returns to his room.

—

The next day is just like any other for (y/n)—awaking at the sounds of cheery chirping birds, freshening up with the help of her designated servants and getting dressed with the outfit of her choice before she leaves to have her daily etiquette lesson with Sunoo.

One might think she’s the lady of the house from the way she’s treated by the staff and to even be privately tutored by the young master himself—that’s the grandest, most gracious gesture he’s ever done for anyone at all.

But to think she’s only a nobody picked up from the street, it’s a cultural shock to others.

“Good morning, Sunoo,” (y/n) greets Sunoo who’s already waiting for her on the windowsill as he stares at the sunny view outside. “Will we pick up from yesterday’s lesson?”

The noble lad turns to her, his eyes already scintillating with adoration as he approaches her with long, calculated steps. “How about we take a break today? The day is beautiful outside.”

His suggestion excites the other who nods vigorously and he giggles with contentment—hand reaching up to fix her hair and trailing his fingers to the side of her face to warmly press his palm against it.

Electrifying tingles bloom in his chest when she reciprocates his affection by leaning against his hand, her eyes shutting briefly before they open to look up at him.

Sunoo feels his breath hitch. She always does this to him. Every single time. He initiates the intimacy and yet at the end he’s the one breathless and desperate for more, craving for her touch and wanting her to want him just as he does to her.

“I’ll tell the servants to prepare you favourite pastries and tea. Wait for me in the garden veranda, hm?”

She nods and he reluctantly slips his hand away, leaving him feeling cold and bare as he yearns for her warmth and comfort once more.

(y/n) casually makes her way to the garden, humming one of the sweet melodies Sunoo taught her to play on the piano as she ambles.

An air of peace and joy encompasses her, disregarding the predatory eyes that ominously tracks her every move from behind a tall bush. His hand rests on the side of the prickly leaves as he stalks the naive prey.

His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip as a sardonic smirk reveals itself when he sees her stop at the veranda–taking his first step towards her.

“I thought you had lessons,” Heeseung begins and the girl spins on her heels.

Her brows twitch upwards subtly at his unexpected presence. “Yes, I was supposed to. But Sunoo thought it was better to enjoy the sunny weather today.”

“‘Sunoo?’” The male repeats, intrigued by the fact that she’s on a first-name basis with the oh, so majestic Kim Sunoo. He scoffs—though, not of demeaning nature. “I see you address him using casual terms. Will it be improper of me to ask you to do the same for me?”

(y/n) tilts her head, puzzled and he continues.

“Lee Heeseung, that is my name. But you will just call me Heeseung.”

Her lips form an ‘o’ in understanding before she beams brightly—fingers pinching the sides of her skirt to slightly lift them up and perform a curtsy. “It is a pleasure to know you, Heeseung. My name is (y/n).”

“Just (y/n)? No family name?” Heeseung furrows. He knows her origins are obscure but he expected her to at least, be aware of the name of her kin. However, the nod of her head answers his curiosity. And somehow…he favours her even more because of it. “I’ve been told on how Sunoo found you near the edge of the red district unaccompanied and lost. It must have been terrifying.”

The girl’s gaze travels down to her shoes before back up at him, unsure of what to say. “Well…”

Heeseung translates her uncertainty as meekness however—a sign of vulnerability—and he’s more than glad to be the pillar of her strength if it meant she’ll lean onto him. “You can tell me anything, (y/n). I’ll be there whenever you need someone to talk to.”

His hands gather hers before he clasps them together, swallowing them completely and a shaky breath escapes him at the sight. With eyes swirling with ambition, he looks into hers with feign empathy—doe eyes feigning innocence and goodwill as he closes the distance between them.

“Will you let me? (y/n)?” He ask—no, pleads, almost as he continues his pretense of a selfless hero. He lowers himself to a slight extent as to not intimidate her by looming over her completely though, it fives not much of a difference. His frame still shadows away the sun from her anyways, leaving her with dim lighting as she’s nearly caged by him.

The maiden smiles softly before nodding although remaining quiet and Heeseung immediately lets out a breath of relief. For a moment there, her stillness seemed to suggest rejection but she must have merely been nervous.

“Why are you acting so benevolent suddenly?”

Her question takes him aback and he stammers, “P-pardon?”

His gaze falls from her face to their hands when she slowly slips hers out to rest them onto his larger ones—thumb softly drawing circles onto his skin which brings desirable shivers down his spine.

“I know how you are. I’ve seen you. Committing all those criminal acts, indulging yourself in dirty riches and greedy gambles as you find pleasure in women that you deem worthless thus, undeserving of any care or compassion—and neither do you give any compensation for those that you’ve treated with injustice,” (y/n) speaks with an eloquence that leaves no room for debate. She isn’t just reiterating all those rumours she might have heard but she is fully cognizant of every word she speaks, of every allegation that they are nothing but truths.

Heeseung is struck by a turmoil of emotions: displeased and offended by her unvarnished tongue yet at the same time wonderstruck by her character that completely goes against his initial impression.

“You…! I thought you were of low origins? You should not be aware of anything regarding the aristocracy!” Heeseung hisses as he snatches his hands back in attempt to conceal his disconcerted demeanor.

But (y/n) retains her sangfroid as she lets her arms relax onto her sides. With a pretty smile gracing her pretty face, her lips part to speak pretty, pretty words.

“If your genteel veneer is merely a pathetic attempt to lure me, then I’d very much prefer it if you were to bare your teeth and spit your venom into my tea,” she says in a whispery tune, just enough for both him and her to hear. She then lifts her hand up to trail her feathery touches down from his neck to his chest—paralyzing him as he shudders with unashamed titillation.

His eyelids fluttering and breath hitching as she smirks deviously, an image even Sunoo has yet to be graced with.

A kittenish giggle escapes her and the sound of it ignites him—hair rising and pants tightening especially when she pulls him down by the nape to whisper.

“Because at least then, you might have the chance to ensnare me with your sincere wickedness rather than your feeble, futile attempt to be a saint,” she snaps and he groans at the feel of her lips lightly grazing the shell of his ear before she pushes him away. “Sunoo will be here soon. I suggest you leave.”

Poor Heeseung’s head is much too dazed and fogged to respond as he drunkenly drags himself away with a painful throb in his lower region and skin flushed red as he replays his moment with her again and again in his head.

(y/n) is a pretty woman, the most gorgeous he has ever laid eyes upon—but she is as lethal as she is beautiful. And what unraveled just minutes ago shows him that she is so much more capable than what she seems. This is mere child’s play.

And he wants to know everything about her.

—

“But young master, this amount may be overwhelming for the villagers. Some of them may not be able to afford this,” Yoo, Sunoo’s aide, voices his concerns after receiving the list of demands from the noble.

Nevertheless, Sunoo remains quiet as his eyes sharpen at the sheet he vigorously writes on—burning the letters with his fervent glare. “They live and conduct their business on our property thus, it’s only fair that they should comply with our rules and commands.”

“However, this is too sudden! Would it not be best for you to grant them a period of time to prepare their payment?”

“Father has instructed me to collect a certain amount during his leave and although I do admit that I have been negligent in fulfilling his wishes, it is justified as I have more priorities to tend to.”

The aide bites his tongue from blurting out a name at his master’s mention of ‘priorities.’ Clearly, his priorities are—is, actually, (y/n) alone.

From tutoring her personally to spoiling her with endless jewels and clothing—even calling over one of the most renowned tailor in town—and spending his day and nights with her behind closed door doing what ever it is they are doing.

Yoo doesn’t blame (y/n), of course. If anything, he thinks she has been one of the sweetest characters he has ever been graced with. However, he can’t deny that she is a great distraction to his master.

“Young master Sunoo—” He attempts to begin another argument.

“Aide Yoo,” Sunoo abruptly interrupts with his voice only slightly raised but the lowness of its pitch that’s inordinate for one who’s typically said to be akin sunshine causes the other to tremble. He gulps as his face blanches with fright.

The noble gently puts his quill down but his following acts are anything but—with a gaze so banefully intent that threatens to almost kill, he perturbs the assistant. “It seems you are mistaken. I’ve passed that document to you not to hear your thoughts but for you to simply relay it to the village. What is so difficult for you to comprehend?”

“I-I was only trying to help, my lord.”

“Well, it’s futile and in all honesty, irritating. Now leave for (y/n) will be arriving soon—and by then, no one is permitted to enter my study,” Sunoo commands with a hiss to which the aide instantly bows at before scurrying out.

He shuts the door behind him as quiet as possible but nearly screams his lungs out at the sight of (y/n) who’s standing by the entrance. “(y-y/n), Master Sunoo is waiting for you.”

With another small bend at the waist, Yoo dashes away to promptly finish his assignment and the girl slips into the chamber.

Seeing her is like a breath of fresh air for Sunoo and he instantly rises to his feet before rushing to the maiden—seizing her into his arms and laying his head against her crown.

“(y/n), my lovely (y/n)…” He mumbles and the other says nothing, only patting his back in a slow, calming rhythm—its sensation quietening the loud noises in his stressful mind. “Come.”

She follows obediently, letting herself be lead to the couches before he sits them both down. After straightening her gown for her, Sunoo coils his arms below her waist and lays his head against his chest—listening to her heartbeat as if it’s a lullaby.

A small smile graces his face as his breaths slow to relax.

(y/n) gazes down at him momentarily, trailing down his features and tracing their shapes before turning her head to his overfilled desk with its surface covered in sheets after sheets of documents. He’s slacked far too much to spend his time with (y/n).

And the knowledge of that brings a content smile to her face. She has him right where she wants him.

“Busy?” She asks quietly, almost in a whisper to not interrupt the tranquility that encases them.

Sunoo nods, bottom lip sticking out unconsciously at the reminder of his despair. “Father is returning in two weeks. I have many works to settle before then.”

(y/n) hums in acknowledgment as her fingers begin to comb through his dark brown locks, causing pleasurable tugs onto his scalp and he almost purrs in delight—nuzzling more against her bosom as he raises slightly to feel more of her touch. “My poor Sunoo.”

A love arrow straight to his heart.

She’s accepted him. She’s regarded him as hers. It was always him to express his affections, him to initiate the meetings and now, she’s finally welcomed him into her world. Oh, how blessed does he feel. Suddenly, all that pile of work on his desk doesn’t seem so daunting—his being now buzzing with bliss.

And (y/n) certainly knows that. From the way his smile widens, apple of his cheeks glow in a rosy hue and eyes visibly upturned even while shut, he’s overjoyed. Using her other hand, she begins to outline the features of his soft, angelic visage, mourning at the fact that he’s not as sweet as he looks. Still, she’s grown quite attached.

“(y/n),” he calls suddenly. She hums in response, urging him to continue. “What am I to you?”

It’s this question. It’s not frequent but some of her previous victims have too, inquired her the same and with each, she answers differently. An answer she knows has to be believable, not too exaggerated but not too humble and yet impactful enough to occupy his head and ring in his ears—hypnotizing them to believe her fondness of them is sincere.

And for Sunoo, it’s simply too easy.

“You’re my saviour,” she purrs and the allure of her voice upends the hair on his skin and his body quivers ever so slightly as eyes flutter open with surprise and yet, admiration. The pounding of his heart only heightens at the sight of her already looking at him with the most endearing smile cast on her lovely countenance—eyes swirling with an ambiguity but nevertheless, warmth for him.

His own stare softens, melting into hers as they search her face for any hint of falsity—rejoicing internally upon seeing none and his body lifts to place his plush lips on hers for the briefest of moments.

And yet that single second felt like heaven to him.

The feel of her bare skin against his mouth ignites a desire in him he never knew he had, overtaking his senses and ridding him of every thought—the heavy longing for her growing with every breath wasted not having her and it festers inside him, eating away so quickly he feels he might shrivel and perish.

But he can’t yield to it—not now. He might scare (y/n) away, especially after her confessing her heart, professing to him of her trust and devotion by calling him her hero, her knight in shining armor. He might ruin his chances before he even completely captures her heart.

He titters at the surprise painted on the girl’s face and he lifts his hand to caress her cheek with the gentlest of touches. “And I shall be for as long as you wish.”

—

“The fish tell me you’re an exquisite skater.”

Sunghoon’s brows knit as he turns to face the owner of the lulling—yet, with a touch of mischief—voice. “The fish?”

She nods and directs her gaze to the large man-made pond at which he crouches beside. “They tell me you tend to skate here when the water freezes over as you find yours at your own home not as freeing.”

The noble readies to stand but decides against it when the girl joins his side—mindless of the ends of her dress that drape onto the grass as she gazes longingly at the water. “Is that so? What else do these fish tell you?”

(y/n) smiles, as if amused that he seeks to know more despite the ridiculousness of her statements. As an underwater creature, it is a norm for her to speak to marine life but the same can’t be said for a creature of land. “That you possess an extravagant beauty among your kind.”

At this, a corner of his lips twitch to a smirk of intrigue. “And? What do you say?”

Her stare shifts to the man’s reflection cast onto the still water’s surface. “I wouldn’t say I’m against it.”

Her indirect yet direct admission of his beauty makes his smirk widen into a grin and he too, turns to look at the pond.

‘What a shame. A beautiful woman and yet, disturbed by her own insanity,’ he thinks and exhales through his nose. But the smile on his face doesn’t falter. ‘Well, she isn’t completely useless.’

Of all the women Sunghoon has shared his bed with, none are comparable to the woman who now sits a mere forearm’s length away from him. If he plays things right, he might be able to have her tonight.

“So you think I’m handsome?” He asks boldly and (y/n) nods but still keeps her attention to the small fish swimming. “Then, why don’t you look at me?”

His question prompts her to do exactly that—to look at him—and she’s abruptly met with his deep gaze boring into hers. He smiles at her obedience. “Tell me, what you like about me.”

For a moment, a silence encases the two with the exception of the occasional chirps of birds and faint rustles of the flora dancing into one another with the help of the wind.

She's attentive towards him, eyes fixed on his face and although Sunghoon knows that she's only finding the answer to his question, he can't help but feel slightly abashed—tips of his ears turning red as his apple bobs in his throat from the fluster.

"You remind me of winter," (y/n) finally responds and he blinks, nearly missing her answer if it isn't for her tilting her head at the notice of his straying mind.

He clears his throat to gather his voice. "Are you a fan of the season?"

"I suppose. The cold and snow refreshes me in comparison to hot, drying summer," the girl explains briefly and once again turns away to look at the pond—making him frown.

The lack of attention from her is beginning to vex him. What's so interesting about a pond and its small swimming fish? Obviously, nothing much—especially with the Park Sunghoon existing in the same space. He's far more eye-catching and valuable than a pool of water.

He retains his composure however, knowing that he can't lose his head if he wants to succeed in his objective. "You must be good friends with the fish seeing as how you're so engrossed by them."

His comment earns him a soft chuckle and he'd be lying if he said the saccharine sound doesn't placate him. The twinkle in his eyes and fangs peeking from below his top lip as he smiles are telltale signs.

"You're so silly. I was more of looking at the water. My close fish friends are at sea anyways," she answers truthfully but Sunghoon believes it as another one of her crazy talk.

And in order to win her heart, he chooses to entertain them. "Must be lovely to have friends from so many places. I take it that they're very cordial?"

The girl nods and her face suddenly lights up as her figure perks. Sunghoon watches with puzzlement as she reaches into a seamlessly hidden pocket at the side of her dress before pulling out her fist and offering it to the noble.

One of the latter's dark, luxuriant brows arches with skepticism—that is, until she uncurls her fingers to reveal the three irregularly shaped pearls resting on her palm.

Even when they're not in perfect circles, they are still priceless and beautiful—white coats carrying a pearly sheen that shines at every light and the rawness of their forms create an exquisite uniqueness that Sunghoon has never seen on any other jewel. An inestimable grandeur.

"I received these from my friends but now that I see them, I feel that they would be in much better hands in yours," (y/n) claims as she gently places the three orbs onto his opened palm. Eyes upturned and smile bright, she looks at him with an apparent eagerness. "With such smooth porcelain skin, you seem to be a pearl yourself."

Sunghoon is unable to retort a witty remark, nor can he muster a scoff—captivated by the girl as he admires her limitless geniality. How can one be so unconditionally kind and sweet to a naive extent? To casually grant one with prized possessions simply because she thought they would look better on him. It's foolish—and yet, he finds it so foolishly lovable.

Stretching his lips to a smile, he's finally able to let out a small chuckle. "Are you sure your friends won't be upset with you by giving these to me?"

(y/n) shakes her head and stands—hands dusting her skirt and straightening it before she turns towards the mansion.

"How are you sure?" Sunghoon asks once more as he too, rises to his feet and now towering over the other.

The latter titters and brings her hands behind her back, clasping them together as she begins her amble. "Because I ate them."

It's like every single gear in his head has stopped and all senses numbed apart from his hearing as her voice—her answer echoes in his ears like an enchantment.

'She...ate them?' He mentally thinks and yet, instead of feeling horrified or even mildly perturbed, the hunger he's felt since before only grows—bubbling and boiling in his stomach up to his chest and throat as it urges him to just seize the defenseless girl in front of him.

To paint her skin with his tongue and relishing in her taste, coating every surface with his moisture before sinking his teeth and leaving conspicuous dents of his fangs as to mark her, warning any other who dares to approach. He craves to own her, to make her his and his alone and have her sing and scream his name so frequently that it becomes the only word she knows—to be the only one she recognizes.

Oh, how terribly starved he is for her.

"Are you not returning? The sky will darken soon," the girl asks as she twirls to him slightly—skirt swaying and hair flowing in the wind before she tucks it behind her ear to reveal her face. Her pure eyes staring curiously at him as she awaits his answer.

Sunghoon gulps, both mind and heart turning erratic as he struggles to remain composed and stoic despite his flawless performance throughout the years.

"Sunghoon?"

He throbs with need at the sound of her voice calling his name and his lashes flutter from his shaking lids, dazed and mesmerized by just a simple gesture from her before he nods his head with a stutter.

A gone man.

—

Jaeyun melts into (y/n)’s hands that play with his hair—braiding and twirling the dark locks with her fingers, delivering delicious, gentle tugs onto his crown—and his eyes are shut tight as he relishes in the feeling.

It all happened so quickly, unexpectedly, for him and (y/n) to become close. All it took was him loitering in the garden one afternoon from boredom and (y/n) inviting him to join her lone picnic. He accepted, seeing as he had nothing else worthwhile to do but he didn’t expect anything from the activity.

He thought it would be mediocre at best. After all, what else is there to do aside from sipping warm tea and munching on fresh fancy-filled sandwiches? And he can’t even do anything ‘exciting’ with (y/n) being so out in the open.

And yet, after a few minutes in, Jaeyun was filled with a sense of tranquility and comfort that he’s never felt before.

He was embraced by a warm sense of home and relaxation, one that entirely limps his body and empties his mind that makes him believe the respite he’s had all this time before are poor excuses. There’s just something about (y/n), something that makes him feel so casually free and blissful—even while doing nothing and just…reveling in each other’s presence.

Just like now.

“(y/n),” Jaeyun starts quietly as he leans his head against the pillow she put on her lap for his ease since he’s sitting on the carpeted floor and her on the couch. “How would you like to stay at my residence for some time?”

The girl’s motions freeze entirely and that one simple act instantly makes him straighten his back as eyes shoot open, alarmed and anxious.

“(y/n)?” He calls again, shaky, as he spins on his seat, looking up at her with eyes pleading for an answer to her abrupt change. What was it? Did his invitation offend her? Does she think that his offer is with salacious intent? It won’t be a surprise if she did. Did his reputation precede him and affected her view of him without him knowing?

The noise in his head quietens as she begins to speak.

“No, it’s nothing. It’s just…I don’t plan on leaving Sunoo, Jaeyun,” (y/n) softly declares as her fingers brush the fallen strands of his hair away from his eyes. His doe eyes blink up at her nervously as his brows raise and angle downwards at the end, an adorable expression for an atrocious man.

Jaeyun gently holds her hand just as it begins to retract. “But, why? It won’t be for long. Just for a brief, even a visit! You’ll love it there, I’m sure of it.”

“Sunoo won’t like that,” the girl rejects again with a soft shake of her head. “He’s my saviour, Jaeyun. He was the one who brought me to his home and cared for me. I’d hate to go against him in any way.”

For the first time in forever, Jaeyun loathes himself for having fun. If only he wasn’t so drunk and occupied with the pleasures of the red light district, he might’ve been the one to find her. He might’ve been the one to welcome her in his home and is able to covet her freely without fear or concern for anyone else.

Because then, he would be the one to own her. The one whom she’s tethered to, just as how she is with Sunoo.

He furrows, frustration imbuing.

“But recently, I have been a bit worried,” she says suddenly and this pulls the other’s attention back to her. “I overheard him last time discussing with his aide regarding the collection of tax. And I know, I know it’s for the greater good but…I can’t help wondering if his aide’s words run truer than I hope.”

“What do you mean?” Jaeyun asks, now fully focused as he sees an opportunity to cease her concern, to be her knight in shining armour. His hand squeezes hers assuringly, prompting her to spill the words in her head.

She sighs in defeat. “His aide said that the amount of tax might be too overwhelming for the people, but Sunoo said it was urgent and that nothing could be done.”

Jaeyun restrains from scoffing out loud. He knows that the only reason their host is rushing with the collection is because he had been slacking.

“I’m aware that there must be a reason why he’s putting such great pressure on the villagers but I fret,” (y/n) confesses and meets his eyes, making his heart skip a beat. “Do you think they’ll be alright?”

This is it. His moment.

He smiles and shifts to sit on his heels before clasping both her hands in his. His thumbs draw soothing circles below her knuckles. “If it may bring you some sort of comfort, we can go to the village.”

The rekindled sparks in her eyes bring him more joy than he ever thought they could and he unconsciously wears a grin as his tender gaze is transfixed on her.

“We can?”

‘No. To be honest, no. Not without Sunoo losing his marbles,’ he thinks but his smiling eyes say otherwise.

“Of course.”

—

CRASH!

“Where is she?? FIND HER!” Sunoo shrieks with unbridled wrath as he tightly grips (y/n)’s dress in his fist. Shards of white adorned with prettily painted flowers scatter the sparkling floor from the tea set he hurled towards the wall.

His aide flinches at his piercing scream and gathers his hands together in fear while maids hurry to clean the mess. “W-we’re trying our best, my lord.”

“Do her servants have no clue where she went?” Sunoo snaps as fox eyes sharpen more than they ever have and Yoo shakes his head vigorously. “I should’ve assigned her those guards but I didn’t as I was afraid she’d get uncomfortable. Foolish! Idiot!”

Yoo and the other staff around shudder violently, terrified of what their master will do. They have never seen him be so cross and upset—because he has never been this emotional before. But ever since (y/n) entered his life, they’ve seen many changes in their employer.

“Young lord! We’ve brought a servant who said he saw (y/n) before her disappearance!” A guard declares after performing a respectful bow and enters the chamber alongside his colleague with a shivering slim boy held tightly between them.

Sunoo’s glare shifts to the poor staff member and only then does Yoo feel like he can breathe—stumbling slightly as his abrupt inhale nearly knocks his balance.

“Speak,” the noble orders lowly and the worker gulps harshly.

“I-I saw her in the garden with M-Master Jaeyun. The two were unaccompanied which w-was odd but I thought they were merely enjoying a stroll so I…I said nothing.”

SMACK! THUD!

Gasps erupt from the other servants while hands fly to cover their mouth, taken aback. Widened eyes glance at the noble before they quickly avert them, horrified at the thought of the repercussions if they are caught.

The fallen boy remains ashamed and hurt on the ground while holding the stinging pain against his cheek from Sunoo’s abrasive slap.

“That accursed Jaeyun hyung…” He curses below his breath before turning around, a motion everyone is grateful for as they watch him sit on the missing girl’s bed. He stares at the expensive silk in his hand before running his other against the soft sheets of her mattress. His inordinately unfeeling gaze casts onto her pillow as he smiles at the imagery of her slumbering peacefully but it vanishes as quickly as it forms. “Go to the village. I have a feeling that they might be there…”

His orders are absolute—all necessary figures quickly departing to execute his demand while the servants hastily leave him to the comfort of his own presence, hoping he will simmer down.

Sunoo lays on her bed and buries himself underneath her blanket—basking in her scent and lingering warmth as he clutches her dress against his chest. His head turns into her fluffy, soft pillow and lets his lips brush against the cool fabric as a woeful whimper sounds.

He misses her. He wishes to see her. To touch her and embrace her and be graced with her presence, be spoiled in her unconditional affections. He yearns for her. He needs her.

He can’t live without her.

Knock, knock.

He doesn’t respond to the sound, expecting the visitor to take their leave so when the door swings open, he’s quick to recover to a sitting position as a glower forms.

“Who dare—Sunghoon hyung?” Confusion laces the younger’s tone as the said noble moseys into the room. “What’s so urgent for you to disrupt my private time?”

A scoff emits from the older as his thick, defined brow cocks up with intrigue. “Private time in (y/n)’s room? Seems scandalous, is it not?”

His mockery ticks him off and Sunoo stands, letting go of the girl’s dress in the process. “If you have nothing worthwhile to say, leave.”

Sunghoon raises his hands to his chest in surrender. “Calm. I was merely trying to lighten the mood.”

The younger’s silence and intensifying glare should be enough as a hint to leave and yet, he still chooses to stay.

“Please, the matter I am to discuss with you is regarding (y/n). I’m certain that you’d like to know.”

The other perks.

“I’ve noticed that she doesn’t seem to be quite…fortified in the head. There seems to be a few screws loose,” Sunghoon says slowly and the younger noble’s silence compels him to continue. “So I was going to suggest a proper facility for her to perhaps, fix her. A new institute has recently opened up near by home and I’ve heard of their excellent treatments—always proving to be effective and the staff are cordial and capable.”

Feeling proud of himself, Sunghoon grins brightly as he expectantly rubs his hands together behind his back. Of course, his ‘helpful’ suggestion is a mere excuse. After Sunoo drops her off to the institute, Sunghoon will only collect her and have her stay in his abode—to be his once and for all.

Sunoo isn’t dumb, he’s bound to be suspicious but among all of them, he is also known to be one of the nicest despite his stand-offish attitude. He’ll accept Sunghoon’s proposal if it meant better lifestyle for (y/n).

But perhaps, he’s become too naive, too complacent and confident to realise that his friend’s affections for (y/n) has run deeper than he bargained for. An affection so strong that it borders with obsession.

The sound of the younger’s scoff pulls Hoon away from his reverie and his dark brows knit at him. “So, you too?”

“Pardon?” Sunghoon sounds, visibly confused and Sunoo stands before striding towards him with a mien, solemn, and gaze, frigid.

“First it was Jaeyun, and now you. It’s laughable how any of you think that you can steal (y/n) away from me,” the host scoffs, a cynical smirk on his face and he tilts his head up to him. "I think it is wise for you to leave my abode at this moment, and never set foot in it until I permit you to."

Sunghoon's luxuriant brows knit as his panicked eyes flicker between the other's, deeply shocked by his abrupt verdict. Seeing the inordinate hostility in his golden eyes and the taut fists trembling on his sides from his restraint, it is as if he no longer recognizes. As if they are distant strangers.

His words are caught in his throat, horrified at the young's unforeseen aggression and thankfully, he needs not to respond as the rapidly approaching clamour and discordance of sabatons against tiles.

Like an alarmed lemur, Sunoo's head snaps to the door instantly as eyes widen with anticipation right as his guards enter while flanking (y/n) and Jake. Relief washes over him, shoulders falling and corners of his lips curling as he pulls the girl away from his men's holds.

"(y/n)! I thought you left me. I was so worried," Sunoo sighs into her hair as he embraces her tighty—a scandalous gesture for unwed figures and yet, none dare to refute. He expects to be reciprocated, to feel her own limbs wrap around his torso with warmth yet instead, he's pushed an arm's length away and is greeted by a face scrunched with pure franticness and concern.

"Sunoo, it isn't his fault! It was my idea, truly! I was the one who encouraged the escapade. Not Jaeyun!" She pleads for mercy—not to grant it to her, but to Jake. And it irks Sunoo, so so much to an extent where he wishes for the older lad's demise.

He casts his focus to the said man, eyes that were previously soft and cordial turning sharp and beady like those of a serpent's as he calmly approaches the apprehended noble. "Jake."

The lack of honorifics shocks the latter who's so accustomed to the other addressing him with respect—even if they were to be in a friendly banter, Sunoo never forgets their proper labels as he thinks of dignity very highly.

Which meant that right now, Jaeyun is very, truly, undeniably fuc—

"Just as I have said to Sunghoon, you are to pack your bags and to never dare to approach my property in any circumstance. And this order is to remain until I, myself, revoke it," he hisses his words that are laced with venom. Glare fixed solely on the man whose face blanched upon understanding his command.

That would mean he can never see (y/n) again. He can't simply accept that.

"It wasn't my fault! If you weren't such a selfish, lazy arse, you would not have needed to burden your people with an absurd amount of tax! (y/n) was just worried for them and I sought to ease her of her anxiety that was caused by you!" Jaeyun argues, seething as his chest heaves heavily. It's unwise to argue with the host whose edict will dictate his fate but that's all he can think of.

Sunoo scowls, brow arches with disbelief. "What?"

The feel of cold, trembling fingers intertwining with his distract him and he grows quiet upon meeting (y/n)'s gaze. She shakes her head softly as she rolls her lips between her teeth, brows scrunch and eyes constantly shifting from one of his to the other.

"Please," she begs wispily and brings his hand against her cheek which she then nuzzles into. Like ice to a bruise and a hearth in winter, Sunoo's tumultuous emotions are pacified, leaving only heavy exhaustion from his mental strain and the shaky exhale he perform is a telltale sign. He overlooks the curl of her lips when he surrenders into her—cupping her other cheek with his vacant hand before he presses his plush lips onto her forehead in a lingering, intimate kiss.

Sunghoon and Jaeyun gawk at the sight, both shocked and envious of his privilege to do such a thing with her, but they are quickly dismissed by him who chooses to abide by her requests. Even Sunghoon is excused as he's now too eager to spend time with (y/n) after being deprived of her for hours.

As the doors of her lavish chamber shut behind the two nobles, they turn to one another and exchange knowing yet simultaneously understanding looks before they separate to their own private rooms.

"I didn't know you would be so affected. I apologize," (y/n) says softly as Sunoo brings her to the bed before gently sitting her beside him. "I promise I will not do it again."

The noble stares at her, hurt flashing across his deep gaze as he recalls how she willingly chose to leave him and follow Jaeyun, but he only shakes his head a smile. She's still his and no one can change that. "It's true I was I upset. But, it was my fault. I knew I was being unfair to the people, but desperation lead me to be...selfish. I shouldn't have." "I'll mend it. I shall revoke my order and instead, retrieve the amount needed from my personal vault. My father would not know if I don't tell him, right?"

He lets out a small chuckle with a grin that spells mischief and slyness. His eyes upturned as they scintillate with excitement.

And at that, (y/n)'s brows raise briefly, pleasantly...surprised at his sudden declaration. He'll use his own wealth to correct his wrongs? Of course, it is to be expected—for one who is morally responsible and selfless—but never did she expect that he, or any of the seven nobles, would make such a decision.

"(y/n)?" Sunoo calls softly, bemused by her abrupt silence before finding himself grappling to remain solid and sane when she presses her lips against his cheeks. His temperature spikes, each nerve end tingling as his face turns pink like a blossom. "(y-y/n)?"

The girl smiles as she cups his cheek, an enigmatic yet, warm gleam in her eyes as she stares tenderly at him. Sunoo feels as if he'll implode from how inordinately quick his heart rate is.

"You're sweet," she says, a strange sense of ambiguity laced within. Her thumb caresses his dewy skin that blooms redder. "I've truly...grown attached."

𝓟𝓐𝓡𝓣 2

ᡣ𐭩ྀི₊ ⊹ masterlist ᝰ.ᐟ✮⋆˙

inspired by ‘milk of the sirens’ by melanie martinez and ‘siren’ by kailee morgue

𝜗𝜚 enha are very ew here :C so proceed with caution!! i can't wait for (y/n) to give them a taste of their own medicine :D erm, if you enjoyed it, don’t forget to leave a heart and reblog—they give me some motivation, ya know? but please, do not spam like!! X♡X♡, romi ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

taglist for this series is open—send an ask to be included ♡

@angelicyouth @lilyuwon @sakanelli-afc @lakoya @clara12o @heeseung-min @inkpot-winters @lilikisuki @randomanothercreature @laylasbunbunny @hveanlyanqelic

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lostfracturess · 2 months ago

Text

not so haunted house — satoru gojo

pairing — professor gojo x female reader

summary — satoru's on a mission to get you into the halloween spirit, and he won't take no for an answer. he's taken you to the town's spooky festival, and plying you with every sugary treat and pumpkin spiced sugary drink he can find. but you draw the line with the haunted house. but knowing satoru, he'll find a way to make it happen.

word count — 4.6 k

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, friends), penetration, public setting, chance of getting caught, oral (male receiving), satoru gojo is always his own warning.

author's note — hey lovelies, i hope you all have the best time this autumn. and to get even more into the spooky spirit, i wrote a little oneshot sidestory for symptoms and causes couple. but you can read it as a standalone without knowing the main story. and for everyone who reads s&c, this happens sometime after chapter 16 (i guess). happy reading and a spooky time <3

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

"I don't wanna go," you said.

"Aw, come on! It'll be fun!" Satoru insisted.

"I doubt it."

"You're so lame sometimes, you know that?"

"And you're irresponsible. We can't just ditch work to—"

"Already handled it," he interrupted, taking a big bite of his cinnamon roll.

"Handled what?"

"Cell migration, documentation, report's done, and I even got a head start on the paper. You might wanna give it a once-over later, though."

"Wait, what?" You stopped dead in my tracks, surprise momentarily eclipsing your exhaustion.

"You're the better writer when it comes to this scientific stuff."

"No, I mean—"

Satoru suddenly stopped too, turning to face you. He grinned, a big bright smile from ear to ear. He was hell-bent on getting you into the Halloween spirit, and you reluctantly agreed to go to the Autumn Festival with him, indulging in cinnamon rolls and pumpkin spice lattes.

Every second, he shoved a new treat into your hands. Try this, try that. Pretty sure you were on the fast track to diabetes after this afternoon.

But you'd drawn the line at the haunted house.

You starred at him as the flickering pumpkin lanterns that lined the path of the crowded streets cast soft shadows across his features, making him even more handsome, as if the night itself conspired to make him even more captivating.

"You finished all that already?" you asked, a hint of disbelief in your voice.

"Yeah," he said, taking another bite of his cinnamon roll. "I wanted us to have some fun in between all the lab work."

You stared at him for a second longer, the bustling activity around you fading into the background. Your heart melted a little as his signature grin lit up his pretty features.

Seeing him so carefree and childlike was new, like he was genuinely loving every second of this—the cheesy traditions, the sea of orange, the cinnamon scent that hung heavy in the air. Like for the first time in forever, the weight of his past had lifted from his broad shoulders.

"This must have taken your hours," you said, still not quite getting over how much effort he must've put in.

"Eh, a few hours here and there." He sauntered closer, peering at you over the sunglasses he wore with a baseball cap to keep a low profile. Getting caught out with your professor would've been all kinds of scandalous, after all. "Totally worth it if it means I can spend more time with you."

"We're together all the time."

"I meant outside the lab," he clarified.

"Satoru, we live together."

"Yeah, where all we talk about is work, biochemicals, brains, and how much plastic surgery Naoya would need to be pretty again."

"Don't tell me you don't love that topic," you said dryly, as a chill autumn wind rustled the leaves at your feet.

He tilted his head, his large hand coming up to cup your cheek, his warmth seeping into you. He looked at you with those soft, mesmerizing eyes, making it impossible to deny him anything.

"Okay," you finally relented with a sigh. "Let's go to that haunted house. But just so you know," you added, "I don't scare easy."

He just smiled, smug as ever. "Oh, we'll see about that."

Moments later, you were at the haunted house, Satoru's arm draped casually around your waist. He already had tickets for the two of you, like he just knew you'd give in. Smug bastard indeed. You stepped into the creaky foyer, seemingly one of the only few people there.

The air was thick with the scent of dust and decay, and an eerie silence hung heavy in the dimly lit corridors. Satoru reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours.

"Don't worry," he said. "I'll protect you."

You let go of his hand. "I don't need protection," you said before taking the lead and striding into the first room.

The first few rooms were predictably eerie, with cobwebs draped across worn furniture and ghostly figures lurking in the shadows. Flickering candlelight cast long shadows on the walls, creating an illusion of movement in the stillness.

"Not even a little bit scared?" Satoru asked.

"Nope," you replied, popping the 'p' for emphasis.

"You're really killing the fun here, you know."

He made his way around a corner, and suddenly, a black figure sprang forward, catching him off guard. Satoru jumped slightly, his heart pounding in his chest. "Ah, fuck," he said, trying to regain his composure. "Stupid thing." He pushed the figure aside with his arm and went into the next room.

"Oh, I'm having fun," you said with a smile.

"Don't laugh.”

As you ventured deeper into the house, the scares became more elaborate, the atmosphere more oppressive. The air grew colder, and a sense of unease settled in the pit of your stomach. Maybe it was a little bit scary after all.

Then, a blood-curdling scream echoed from the room ahead, and you and Satoru whipped around, but nothing was to be seen.

"You know, I was hoping for something different when I had the idea to come here.”

"And what kind were you hoping for?" you asked, pushing the spiderwebs out of your way with disgust, the silky strands clinging to your fingers.

"The kind where you cling to me and scream at every little thing," he said, following your lead.

"Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

He grinned. "Well, I can't deny that would be enjoyable."

The next room was pitch black, the only sound the distant dripping of something liquid. Your heartbeat quickened as you stepped forward, the darkness seeming to swallow you whole. Suddenly, a cold hand grabbed your ankle, and you let out an involuntary yelp, jumping closer to Satoru.

Satoru quickly pulled you close, his strong arm wrapping around your waist as he steadied you. "Not scared, huh?" His voice was a deep rumble in his chest, and you could feel the vibrations against your back.

You pulled away from him. "Shut up. I'm not scared. Just... startled."

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Mhm, sure. Whatever you say, love."

"Let's just keep going," you said, marching forward into the darkness.

But Satoru wasn't about to let you off that easily. He caught up to you in a few long strides, his hand finding yours in the darkness. "You know," he said, "if you need me to hold your hand, all you have to do is ask."

You scoffed, but didn't pull away. "I think I can manage."

"Oh, I'm sure you can. But where's the fun in that?"

Satoru suddenly tugged on your wrist, pulling you flush against his chest. Before you could react, his soft lips were on yours, insistent and demanding.

For a moment, you stood frozen, your mind reeling from the unexpected turn. But as his lips moved against yours, his tongue teasing the seam of your mouth, you found yourself melting into his embrace, your body molding to his like it was made to fit there.

Your hands slid up his chest, feeling the firm planes of his pecs beneath his shirt, before pushing his baseball cap off his head, letting it fall to the ground forgotten.

His silky, white hair fell down into his forehead, the soft strands brushing against your skin as you tangled your fingers in his locks, deepening the kiss. He groaned against your mouth, the sound sending heat straight to your core, igniting a fire in your veins that only he could quench.

His arms tightened around your waist, pressing your body impossibly closer to his. The haunted house faded away, the eerie sounds and spooky decorations forgotten as you lost yourself in the feel of him.

His tongue delved into your mouth, exploring, tasting, with a skill that never failed to leave you weak in the knees. His large hands roamed over your back, leaving trails of fire in their wake, even through the fabric of your sweater.

"You know," he said between heated kisses, his voice a low rumble that you felt in your bones, "I kinda like this side of you."

"What side?" you asked, breathless.

"The side that is scared, the side that needs me.”

"Because you need to be needed?"

"Needed by you, yes," he said, his blue eyes dark, before he walked you backwards until your back hit the wall, his body pinning you in place. “Always by you. Only by you.”

His lips left yours, trailing hot, wet kisses along your jaw, down the column of your neck. You tilted your head back, giving him better access.

"Satoru," you breathed, your fingers tightening in his hair.

"What happened to being able to manage on your own, hmm?"

You tugged on his hair, bringing his lips back to yours. "Shut up and kiss me."

"With pleasure," he murmured, before capturing your lips once more in a searing kiss that stole the breath from your lungs.

You lost track of time as you kissed, your bodies intertwined, hands exploring, breaths mingling. It was only when a particularly loud and high scream echoed through the haunted house that you broke slightly apart, chests heaving.

"We should...probably get out of here," Satoru said, his voice rough, his gaze fixed on your lips.

"Why leave?"

His lips twitched into a smirk. "Yeah, why indeed."

Satoru took your hand, his long fingers intertwining with yours as he pulled you down a darkened hallway, away from the main path of the haunted house.

He tried a few doorknobs until one finally gave way. Peeking inside, he tugged you into what appeared to be a dimly lit storage room, filled with discarded props, old furniture, and cobwebs that looked a little too real for comfort.

As soon as the door closed behind you, he had you pressed up against it, his hard body pinning you in place as his lips found yours again. Your hands roamed over his muscular back, feeling the ripple of his muscles beneath as the kiss deepened, your puls racing.

In one smooth motion, he hoisted you up, his large hands gripping your thighs as you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. He carried you further into the room, never breaking the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours.

Distantly, you registered a lone flashing red light in the corner, what seemed to be a security camera. Satoru noticed it too.

Tearing his lips away from yours with a muttered curse, he set you down gently, your body sliding against his in a way that made you both shudder.

He strode over to the device. With a sharp tug, he disabled the camera and tossed it aside carelessly, before turning back to you with a heated look that made your core clench with need.

His hands found your waist once more, pulling you flush against him. His lips crushed on yours, the kiss hungry, desperate, all tongues and teeth.

Your hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, needing to feel his skin against yours. Satoru shrugged out of the fabric impatiently, tossing it aside without a second thought before his hands slipped beneath your sweater. His thumb brushed over your nipple through the thin lace of your bra.

You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips. Your hands found his belt buckle, undoing it with deft fingers before popping the button of his pants and sliding down the zipper.

You could see the outline of his hard, thick cock straining against the fabric of his boxers, begging to be freed.

Sinking to your knees, the hard floor cold against your skin, you looked up at him through your lashes. His breath hitched as he realized what you were about to do.

Your fingers hooked into the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down slowly, teasingly. Satoru's cock sprang free, hard and thick and perfect.

You wrapped your hand around the base, giving him a few slow, deliberate strokes as you maintained eye contact, watching as his blue eyes darkened.

Satoru's head fell back, a guttural groan rumbling in his broad chest, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Fuck, your hand feels so good," he panted, his fingers threading into your hair, gripping just tight enough.

You leaned forward, your tongue darting out to lick the bead of precum from his tip, the salty-sweet taste of him on your tongue.

Satoru hissed, his hips moved forward slightly, needing more. You wrapped your lips around him, taking him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his shaft as you savored the feel of him heavy against your tongue.

"Fuck, yes, just like that," Satoru praised, his grip on your hair tightening as you began to move your head, taking him deeper with each pass until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat.

You hollowed your cheeks, sucking hard as you worked him with your tongue, tracing the thick vein on the underside of his shaft.

Satoru's moans filled the room, echoing off the walls, his hips rocking forward to meet your mouth, fucking your face with shallow thrusts.

"God, you take me so good, love," he groaned, his words dissolving into a low, drawn-out moan as you took him particularly deep. "Fu—Fuck.” He fell forward slightly, bracing his hands on the wall behind you.

You sucked him harder, your hand working what you couldn't fit in your mouth, twisting and stroking in time with your tongue.

Satoru's breaths were coming in short, sharp pants now, his thighs tensing under your free hand. You could tell he was close, his cock twitching against your tongue, the taste of his precum becoming more intense.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum.” His deep voice strained and rough. "You're gonna make me fucking cum."

But just as you were sure he was about to come, Satoru's hand tightened in your hair, pulling you off him. You looked up, confusion in your eyes as you met his heated gaze.

"What's wrong?" you asked. "Was it not good?"

Satoru shook his head, a strained, breathy laugh escaping him. "Fuck, no, it was perfect. Too fucking perfect. I just..." He paused, his chest heaving as he tried to regain control. "I can't come like this. Not this time."

He cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your slick lower lip. "I need to cum inside you. Need to feel you around me."

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, need pooling hot and heavy in your belly. Slowly, maintaining eye contact, you ran your tongue along the underside of his cock, flicking over the sensitive head. Satoru hissed again.

"And not like this?" you purred, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his weeping tip, your tongue swirling along the slit.

"Fucking tease.” His large hand fisted in your hair, dragging the head of his cock along your tongue, shuddering at the sensation, before reluctantly pulling away. "Why you gotta make this so hard for me, huh?"

He helped you to your feet, spinning you around and pressing you against the wall in one swift motion. His hands roamed your body, sliding over your waist, your hips, before swiftly undoing your pants and shoving them down.

Satoru’s large hand roaming over your ass, the other sliding between your legs, his long fingers pushing your underwear to the side and brushing against your dripping core.

He pressed against your swollen clit, making you cry out and arch your hips back into him. "I can't fucking wait anymore,” he said.

His hands then gripped your hips, turning you to face the wall. You braced your hands against the cool surface, biting your lip. You felt the thick head of his cock nudging at your entrance, teasing you.

With one smooth, hard thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, stretching you just right, drawing moans from both of you. "Oh, fuck," you gasped, your nails scrabbling at the wall as you adjusted to the sudden fullness.

"My god, why do you always feel so fucking good," Satoru panted, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his hot breath fanning over your neck as he gave you a moment to adjust. "So tight, so fucking perfect. Like you were made for me."

"Move, Satoru," you breathed, very well aware that you were literally in the storage room of a haunted house and could get caught any second. "Fucking move."

"You're really not gonna let me enjoy this haunted house, are you?"

"Do you want to get caught with your pants down or what?"

"Then you'd better be quiet, love," he said. "Or I might just have to gag you with my fingers."

"You're impossible," you groaned, pushing your hips back against him, desperate for friction. "Just fucking move already."

Satoru didn't need to be told twice. He set a hard, deep pace, his hips snapping against yours, the sound of skin on skin echoing in the small room.

One hand gripped your hip hard enough to leave bruises, while the other worked your clit, driving you closer to the edge with each skilled touch, each deep stroke of his perfect cock inside you.

You could feel your orgasm building, coiling tight in your lower belly. "Satoru, I'm close," you gasped, your nails scratching against the wall as you tried to find purchase. "Fuck, Satoru."

"Not yet, love."

Quickly, Satoru's hand closed around your hip, spinning you around and lifting you up effortlessly like you weighed nothing. You clung to him, breathless and dizzy as he walked you over to a nearby table, sweeping aside the dusty props and cobweb-covered decorations littering its surface.

He sat you down on the edge, your legs automatically wrapping around his trim waist to pull him closer, desperate to have him inside you again.

Satoru's warm hands slid up your thighs, over your hips, coming to rest on your waist as he leaned in to kiss your neck. "God, you're so fucking beautiful," he breathed, his lips brushing your skin. "Did I tell you how lucky I am to have you?"

"Satoru, we're literally fucking in a haunted house, maybe save the love confession for later?"

"You really are no fun during spooky season," Satoru groaned, his cock twitching against your thigh, leaving a trail of precum on your skin. He reached between your bodies, lining himself up with your entrance before thrusting forward, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth, deep stroke.

You threw your head back, a moan escaping your lips at the maddening feeling of him filling you so completely. Satoru set a steady pace, his hips rolling against yours, the new angle allowing him to hit that spot inside you that made you feel like you were flying and falling all at once.

"Fuck, you feel so good around my cock," Satoru panted, his forehead resting against yours as he moved, his breath mingling with yours.

Your nails raked down his back, urging him on, wanting him deeper, harder, faster, consequences be damned. Satoru obliged, his thrusts becoming more forceful, more urgent, the rickety table creaking beneath you with each powerful surge of his hips.

"Touch yourself," Satoru growled, his voice strained. "I wanna feel you come around my cock."

You did as he said, your hand lowering between your bodies to find your clit, your hips bucking up to meet Satoru's thrusts as you chased your release.

"That's it, love," Satoru encouraged, his eyes dark as he watched you. "Just like that. Fuck, you're so hot when you touch yourself."

His thrusts became more frenzied.The table creaked and groaned beneath you, threatening to collapse at any moment, but you didn't care. You were too far gone.

Your fingers moved faster, more urgently, as you felt your orgasm building. Satoru's eyes never left yours, his gaze burning with a fierce intensity as he watched you. His lips were parted, his chest heaving, and his forhead was slick with sweat.

Suddenly, your body convulsed, your muscles contracting around Satoru's cock as you came. His eyes squeezed shut, hissing through his teeth as he felt your muscles clamp down around him.

"Ah, fuck," he moaned. "What are you doing to me?" His body tensed, his muscles straining as he fought to hold on, to keep going, to make it last. But it was too late.

He thrust once, twice, and then he was coming, his cock pulsing inside you as he emptied himself, filling you with warm sticky cum. As the last of his cum dripped out of him, his body relaxed, his chest heaving with exertion.

His forehead dropped to yours, his eyes closed in bliss as he savored the aftermath. "Fuck," he panted, his voice barely audible. "You're going to be the death of me."

“You wanted to go to that haunted house,” you said. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as he caught his breath.

He laughed. “Yeah, you’rer right.” His cock was still hard, still buried deep inside you, and you could feel his cum dripping out of you, a slow, sticky trickle.

He smiled, a lazy, sated smile that made your heart skip a beat. "God, I can't get enough of you." He was just about to lean in for a kiss when a sharp knock on the door startled you both.

Your eyes widened in panic.

"Hello?" a gruff voice called from the other side. It had to be a staff member.

"Oh, shit," you hissed, frantically grabbing for your clothes.

"I'm sorry, but this area is off-limits to guests," the voice called again, sounding more irritated.

Satoru quickly pulled his pants back on and finished buttoning his shirt, then reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours as he pulled you close to his side and towards the door.

With his free hand, Satoru unlocked the door and flung it open, plastering on his most charming smile. Before you stood a grumpy middle-aged man who reeked of cigarettes and had dark circles under his eyes.

"Our bad, man," Satoru said smoothly, fishing out a few crisp yen bills from his pocket and pressing the money into the staff member's hand. "For the camera," he added with a wink.

The man looked at the bills, then back at Satoru, confusion written all over his weathered face. Without waiting for a response, Satoru dragged you out the door after him, brushing past the bewildered staff member.

He led you quickly down the hallway, his grip on your wrist firm as he navigated through the winding passages. You didn't stop until you were outside the haunted house, the chilly night enveloping your flushed skin.

"Well, that was a close one," Satoru chuckled, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Haunted houses aren't so bad after all, huh?"

You leaned forward, hands on your knees as you tried to catch your breath, your legs still shaky. "Shut up.” You swatted at him halfheartedly.

"Wanna head back to the festival?"

You made your way back to the festival, hand in hand, his baseball cap and sunglasses back in place.

You strolled through the stalls, taking in the various decorations and trinkets on display. Jack-o'-lanterns grinned toothily from every corner, their flickering candles casting an fiery glow on the revelers' faces. The scent of cinnamon, roasted almonds, caramel and the earthy smell of fallen leaves wafted through the air.

Suddenly, something caught Satoru's eye and he tugged you towards it. It was a cute little stall decked out in shimmering black and orange, laden with an assortment of whimsical accessories. Pointy witch hats adorned with glittery stars, vampire fangs that glinted in the light, and masquerade masks decorated with shimmering sequins and feathers.

Satoru's eyes sparkled with childlike wonder as he rummaged through the collection, his face split in a wide grin. He plucked something from the display and held it up. "Hold still for a sec.” He tilted his head as he considered how it might look on you.

In his hands was a cute headpiece, twisted black wire interwoven with tiny, glittering bats and shimmering autumn leaves that seemed to dance in the breeze. He placed it gently on your head, his fingertips grazing your temples as he adjusted it just so.

"There," he said softly. "Absolutely beautiful."

You quirked an eyebrow at him. "Is that so?"

"Mhmm," he hummed. "In fact, it looks so good on you, I might just have to fuck you again, but with that on top this time."

As if on cue, the stall owner fumbled with a display, sending a cascade of glittery masks tumbling to the ground with a clatter. You shot Satoru a pointed look, your eyes screaming, 'See what you did?'

"Ah, sorry about that." Satoru called out to the flustered vendor, flashing her a charming smile as he pressed a generous wad of bills into her hand. "Keep the change, yeah? For the trouble."

Before the poor woman could respond, Satoru had whisked you away, his laughter ringing out like music in the crisp night air.

Moments later, you found yourself with a generous glass of spiced pumpkin wine in hand, Satoru having snagged two mugs from a nearby vendor.

With the decorative headpiece perched atop your head and the overly cute Halloween mug in your hand, you probably looked like the biggest Halloween fan around. "I'm starting to think you're actually enjoying this.”

He grinned. "Really? What gave it away?"

Just then, something caught Satoru's eye, and he came to an abrupt halt, nearly causing you to slosh your drink all over yourself. His gaze fixed on a colorful shooting gallery booth. Rows of stacked thimbles painted with witches, ghosts, and pumpkins enticed passersby to try their hand at winning a prize.

Satoru grinned at you and before you knew it, you found yourself participating in yet another classic Halloween fun activity with him. He smirked, rolling up his sleeves with an air of confidence. "You ever played before, love?"

"Hmm," you hummed, stepping up to the counter and setting your pumpkin spice wine aside. The attendant passed you each a toy rifle, and you took your positions.You rolled your shoulders and lifted the rifle.

Satoru’s first volley of shots went wide, but he managed to hit 3 out of 5, the thimbles clattering as they toppled over. "Warm-up round," he said with a nonchalant shrug, his competitive streak already showing.

He turned to you with his signature grin, but it quickly morphed into an open-mouthed gape as you proceeded to hit all 5 with nonchalant precision, barely even pausing between shots.

You blew imaginary smoke from the barrel of your toy gun, a smug smile playing about your lips as you reached for your forgotten wine. "You were saying?"

Satoru blinked at you, his mouth open. "Okay, remind me never to piss you off again.”

"You know I'm never letting you live this down, right?"

"Yeah, I figured as much," he said, but you could see the corner of his mouth twitching as he fought back a smile. He grabbed you around the waist, pulling you flush against him as he captured your lips in a kiss.

A pointed cough from the attendant broke you apart. "Your prize, miss?" the man prompted, gesturing to the array of plushies and plastic trinkets.

"Oh, I think I'll let the loser choose," you said airily, shooting Satoru a wink before walking away.

As the night wore on, you lost yourselves in the simple joy of each other's company, sharing laughter, playful challenges, and stolen kisses amidst the twinkling lights and paper streamers.

By the time the festival began to wind down, you were exhausted, your cheeks aching from smiling and your sides sore from laughter. Satoru pulled you close, his arm draped around your shoulders, as you made your way toward the exit and back home.

Maybe Halloween festivals weren't so bad after all.

author's note: hello again, sorry i've been quite offline these days, but i hope the short story made you smile (or whatever reaction you had to it lol). this should take place after chapter 16 but yk i haven't written that yet haha. so just imagine a happy satoru for this, after a huge burden got off his shoulders.

have a great day or night whenever you read this and and an even more great halloween and holiday season <3

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berriblossom · 3 months ago

Text

Oh, Great Divine!

☆| It's time for a SAGAU, more so a comforting one. Reader's gender is ambiguous and gender neutral, archons adore reader, in this sense the Nahida tag is platonic!|

☆ Tags/warnings! | Socially Aware Genshin AU, archons and people of Teyvat treat the reader as a god or heavenly figure, religious references (cathedral of Mondstat and Narukami/ Sangonomiya Shrines of Inazuma) some minor lore for reader, Reader is referred to as "Their Grace" or "My/Your Grace" and "The Great Divine" ALL PORTRAYALS ARE FICTIONAL!! anyway, enjoy.|

Within the lands or nations of Teyvat, for centuries the practice of worshipping an Archon was beyond common, more so for those who wish not to believe in spiritual practices concerning the gods of each element are more on the rare side to find. However even if such existed, there was one thing to never be doubted within the lands of Teyvat.

The Great Divine's presence over mortals and immortals alike.

The creation of Teyvat in many national mythos credits the sole ideas and creation to the Great Divine. Even the archons and the sources of their celestial names were blessed upon them by their divine grace. Depending on which nation you visit, some may say that their archon is specifically blessed by their grace.

In Mondstat, the nation of wind, song, freedom, wine, and bard's ballads, once every 100 years they celebrate the freedom blessed to them by Barbatos and the Great Divine. A tradition stretching for the last millennial to show the love and deeply routed affection given by its people and archon. Yes, Barbatos, or now the "drunken" bard known as Venti among his people. Every festival of a "New Eve" as they call it, is another 100 years for him to show his affection for his beloved divine. Despite his defiance to Celestia and the natural order placed after your departure, he still fully believes in your care and love for humans and archons alike. To Venti, whispering to the wind like he did with you thousands of years prior, even in his wind-spirit form. You'd sit together where now the great tree at Windrise and speak about the future of Teyvat, something despite having the authority over you simply spoke to him as:

"For what will come, Your nation will prosper and learn the true meaning of freedom and song..."

So to this day, he sits under that tree and thinks of the years since, missing your warmth from curling up in your hands as a wind spirit to laughing and humming beside you in his divine form. He has seen it for the last few hundred years, the art, songs, plays, books, and even food and weapons made in your name, and every hundred years he repeats the same. A small prayer from his soul is whispered into the wind as he tells his deep care and love for his dear grace. And the people of Mondstat no different, all gather at the great Cathedral and warmly sing about the Great Divine and Lord Barbatos as they place to wine, food, and gifts at the altar of your image. When alone Venti will sneak in and sit under your statue, missing the warmth of your hands but relishing the love in your image.

In Liyue, the nation of Geo, contracts, and the adepti, the greats divines are influenced by the first contract Rex Lapis made with them over 7000 years ago, even before Liyue was a fully combined nation. Zhongli remembers the conversation you two had, sharing a simple game of wit and tea. Then he was immature to your influence and power but now he relishes in it. Proudly in his vast historical knowledge, preaching his love and the power the great divine holds. How you could shape the sea with a flick of your wrist, how you've created mountains from your fingertips, how your vast knowledge is spread throughout teyvat as a bible to be studied and read over and over again. But mostly what he and all of Liyue celebrate is the contractable care and affection you give him and the people of Liyue.

This time around Liyue is a time spent every hundred of years a new eve of dawn as it is called, one Zhongli and his fellow adepti never get tired of. A time to give gifts of care to neighbors, friends, and even coworkers in the busy harbor. Even the Northland Bank celebrates by lowering interest on loans!

(But only for this amount of time and by the next New Eve of Dawn the Interest WILL reset)

But mainly it is a way to give worship to the Great Divine and their trust in Rex Lapis and his Adepti to protect and serve Liyue. Everything Zhongli has done was for your gratitude and divine love. So when a New Eve comes, he sits anywhere in Liyue, the mountains, hills, somewhere to overlook the harbor, and enjoys a warm cup of tea. Your favorite while imagining your smile as you talk, the games you'd two play. He watches his disciples and Apeti celebrate with gifts, food, and songs at your altar set around Liyue. He sips his tea and awaits your fated return, happy to share more memories and stories with you.

Within the land of Eternity, formerly transcience, Inazuma's style of celebration differs slightly from some nations. The Grand Narukami Shrine would hold a private ceremony, cleansing the sacred Sakura tree and your statue underneath, barhing the precious stone engravings with crisp clean water. Meanwhile the people if Inazuma would be celebrating on their own occasions, firewroks light into the clear sky, dancing ceremonies at the teahouse fill with guest.

However, the new electro archon herself sits alone at the top of Tebshukaku. Quietly walking down memeory lane in her mind. For the last five centuries of the New Eve of Dawn celebration, she'd sit in her space of Euthymia alone in solitude quietly sulking at the idea of your everlasting figure. How her and Makoto would chat down the lane of inazuma speaking about plans of you, speaking of your visions of the nation of electro, Makoto laughing at how embarrassed Ei used to be around you and your divinity. Now Ei smiles solemnly..

She knows now that she as archon must take the mantle, for in your teachings that it the goal of the heavenly principles you've left. Fated to return, she prays that you'd come to her first. She dreams and imagines in her meditations within her quiet Euthymia that you'd hold her. That her loneliness would be cured indefinitely. But for now she waits, with a plate of dango and some ofdly colored tea, shit eats alone as the fireworks set off atop Narukami island, she whispers a promise to herself and her nation on your honor.

"For it will be fate...my grace...you shall return to us...to eternity...we shall be reunited."

Far off in the lands of eternity, however, the island that formed the resistance sings and dances around the bonfire, the resistance army of Sangonomiya and Watatsumi laugh as they praise the late OmiKami, or the serpent god Orobashi. The fire dances as troops tell stories, shrine maidens sing and laugh, and her priestess sits while holding a book. She smiles softly. Kokomi looks above at the horizon and sees the corpse of their late god, she wishes silently to herself and for her ancestors to below the sea. That once the great spirit of life and forefather of the vishaps would return to bring life to the benevolent serpent. But for now, she sits alongside Gorou as they watch the troops enjoy the holiday.

Within Sumeru, however, and alongside it, Fontaine...the New Eve of Dawn has been on the academic calendar differently, which is how some older nations react. For those in the rainforest, it is a blessing of Lessor Lords Kusanali's birth. For the dessert, it is the bringing of a new promise for the scarlet sand kings doubted return. Within the nation of dendro, it is a holiday of now academic activities, no scholars shrouded in work, but a day off. The people worship by their own will and sit in taverns, bars, and cafes to drink mereily while chatting with friends. Some visit your altar within the Akademiya, and others pray at home.

Nahida sits on a branch of the great tree that houses the knowledge many wish to obtain, in her hands an ancient seed of fate, she herself has no memory or knowledge of where it came but holds ot and teasures its existence. For she has a kindling that it is tied to this divine spirit that is expected to awaken. From her small conversation with Apep, the seed is treasured. Hence, she holds it and feeds the growing plant bits of dendro elemental energy. She sighs as she watches the sun set and the cheers from the streets and grand bazars performances. Nilou must be dancing now, she thinks. She hums a small song while kicking her feet, her hands warm with caution. She may not know you yet, but she knows already... Your spirit and divine will watch for her and her nation. The goddess of wisdom has many questions for the great creator of this world, but for now, she just hums and sits happily, a great birthday gift indeed.

Meanwhile, in Fontaine, similarly, it is deemed a weekend off of work. Many go home, some go to the Opera to catch performances of the holiday, others read tabloids of the steambird that some random person in the court has the great divine in their basment all along. All fiction truthfully. Furina reads her book as she makes another plate of pasta macaroni. For the occasion, she bought extra special ragau to taste amazing. She dances around her kitchen listening to soft music. For years her mind would have doubted and even hated this day, anxious fears of disappointment and disapproval looks from her days as stabding archon. Would you have hated her? Did you think she failed fontaine and you? Was her a cursed human taking title of archon an insult to you? Furina had nightmares even of the prohecy and your return to see fontaine gone and underwater. But now, as the prophecy and fontaine were safe and out of fear, she ate and asked a good question this new century.

"What kind of pasta would their grace like..."

Soft rainfall drops onto the steps of the Palais Mermonia, the evening rain was forcasfed but welcomed, Neuvillette wrote on the papers softly, agreeing to a few celebratory events the Opera wanted to hold. Usually Lady Furina would be jumping for the task but here he was. Dread builded in his soul. This time of year brought many pains to Neuvillette.

A new century meant a new set of hundreds of years he gets to oulive humans, melusines maybe, but also the clock inches closer and closer to your return. Neuvillette spent early years of his lofe researching and discovering his species and kind for decades. Figuring that if you are the forefather and creator of vishaps and the sovereignty. Why was so many things done the way they were? Why ddi the power the gnosis and archons hold come from them? Why can't he understand your implications, even such his ancestors didn't wish to think against? What power do you hold and how did aid Fontaine in the end? He knew Focalor and Egeria spoke to you, even asking for forgiveness before your departure, so why? Neuvillette, places his pen downs and stands to look out the window of his office to look down at the streets of the Court of Fontaine, a glass of crisp water swirls in his hand. He sips slowly and sighs, coming to think.

"In this new century...please with it, may you come along too my grace."

In the nation of fire, victory, war and passion, raors could be heard from the stadium of flames as people of different tribes shouted and cheered the competitions down below. Surfing races, climbing achievements, conbat bouts, even break dancing competitions held. Mavuika sits at her throne above as her people cheer and celebrate, raising glasses, foods, gifts, and money even in your image. She slips away from the fesitivites to be alone in the speakers chambers, past the sacred flame, and into her personal get-away. Now empty, she stares at the famous wheel of the sun, Natlan has held for centuries, the same you blessed the first pyro archon with, as their rules of ruilibg were left in your favor. She smiles as she too holds her head high, similar to her ancestors before her.

She remebers before she was even archon, how her parents would tell stories of the Great divines influence, love, and power. That the spirit of victory belongs to the pyro archon yes, but the strength was given by you as well. She remembered your fave engraved in ancients temples and stones around Natlan and now some statues around the lands too. She knows too well her nation is blessed by your, not only for the peoples cheers and vitcories but the long-lasting stay they've had against the threat of the abyss thus far. Maybe when you return and ward off the abyssal threats for good, she top could ask something of you...for that she won't know until she sees you herself.

"Until we meet my grace...may your memeory burn eternal.. and your power live within my people."

-> Did i go overboard, yes...but eh...hoped you enjoy, and also i may make a small series out of this..who knows..

#genshin impact #berri bomb🍓#genshin impact x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin sagau #sagau x reader #sagau #acrhons #venti x reader #zhongli x reader #ei x reader #nahida x reader #furina x reader #Mavuika x reader #berri writes #sagau cult au #genshin impact sagau

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ltwilliammowett · 4 months ago

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Cooking like a Sailor- Frisian teatime

Today it's going to be a bit Friesian again and this time the delicious treats come mainly from the North Sea islands and Halligen, where they usually originated before they floated ashore and were eaten or drunk there.

Now that we are approaching autumn with great strides, there are such delicacies. This was the time when many of the seafaring men returned home, which meant a rich harvest of specialities from foreign countries and often also the weddings were hold which were arranged the year before.

But let's start with the drink: tea punch, just the thing for the wet and cold season when it's stormy and raining outside.

Ingredients: Black tea, köm and kluntjes (brown sugar candy).

But even more important than the right ingredients are the way it is prepared and consumed. If you are in a hurry, you have no place at the tea punch table!

The tea punch is served as follows: The teapot is placed on the teapot warmer and the pre-heated bottle of Köm is placed on the table. Don't be surprised: the tea punch cups are tiny. This has nothing to do with stinginess, but with cosiness. And this is how it works: Pour tea into the cup, add a dash of köm and sugar to taste. Listen to the Kluntjes crack, stir and drink hot. Have a chat and then top up again.

This drink has existed on the islands since 1735, when a ship with tea chests stranded off Amrum at Theeknobs, although at the beginning there was no knowledge of how to prepare the tea leaves. As a result, the tea was drunk quite thinly, which was also due to the fact that tea was something special that was not always available, just like schnapps. Köm is a spirit similar to aquavit with caraway seeds. The yellow (geele) Köm is particularly common in the North Frisian region. This is a spirit, usually made with grain, which is mixed with caraway and sometimes with a hint of aniseed.

The tea punch was of course also known on ships, but here the köm was swapped for rum and the punch was used to warm up rather than for chatting. Sailors preferred to do this on land.

What do you serve with tea? Hallig Knorken or Friesenwaffeln are best. This wafer-thin delicacy has been around since the 16th century thanks to the Dutch who settled in northern Germany. They were light waffles that were made with rum and then served with plum jam and cream. Again, these delicacies were either brought by the men or had to be bartered or bought on the land, as the islands and Halligen did not have huge areas of land available for agriculture and so there was a lot of trade with the delicacies from the sea.

Ingredients for 4 people (this is the modern recipe) 4 eggs 200g sugar 250g butter 300g flour 3-4 tsp. cornflour 50ml rum 1 packet of vanilla sugar 1 pinch of salt

Bake the waffles in an iron and then serve hot with plum jam and cream.

Now we come to the highlight of every festive table - the Friesentorte. This magnificent cake is truly a precious piece. Because it requires valuable ingredients that were not always available back then and were therefore more likely to be found on festive tables. It is not known when it has been around, but probably since the 19th century, thanks to the sailors who brought many recipes with them from other countries. Like puff pastry, for example.

Today's variations also work with shortcrust pastry, but are not the original recipe

Recipe

Bake two puff pastry bases (you can use ready-made pastry) Brush one of the bases (the top) with egg yolk and sprinkle with caster sugar Leave the second (base) plain After baking, spread the base generously with plum jam Spread not too little whipped cream on the plum jam base Cut the top into 12 even pieces and then arrange the pieces on top.

The wealthier the family the more the cake would consist of several layers. Which made eating even more complicated, because how do you eat this monster without smearing cream all over your face? Well, you take the lid off, eat the inside and nibble the lid separately.

So there you have it and I wish you a delicious tea time of a different kind. Enjoy your tea and your tasty treats like real Frisians.

#naval history #frisian tea time #tea waffels and cake #16th - today #age of sail #age of steam #modern #cooking like a sailor

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merakiui · 23 days ago

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Do you have any more fluffy Jade/ Floyd captivity thoughts for us? Particularly spending Christmas with either of them?

Thinking….. decorating your lab office for the holidays and the eels curiously watch you from where they lurk in their tanks, wondering what you’re doing with all of the pretty, shiny things. They wonder if this is like the human equivalent of a nest or a grotto and you’re preparing it specifically for them. If that’s the case, they’re very intrigued by your interior decorating. You’ve certainly caught their eyes. If this was the sea, all of those lights would definitely attract all kinds of mers…even predators.

You string garland and cheap strands of lights around your desk. You even brought in a small tree to hang all kinds of decorations and ornaments on. The eels are absolutely enamored when you plug in the lights and they brighten up the space with holiday cheer. Quite a festive nest you’ve made for yourself.

When you check in on them later that evening, just as you’re getting ready to leave, you notice they’re both glowing—bioluminescence cutting strips of light through the gloom. This is notably brighter than their usual glow. You wonder what it means because their tank is kept at optimal temperatures for deep-sea mers, so there should be no need for them to be in season. That’s not until early spring, if all the data you’ve collected on them is anything to go by, and there aren’t any mates nearby. Strange. Maybe they’re mimicking the lights?

Alternatively, imagine you’ve been playing nothing but Christmas music while you work to get into the holiday spirit, and the next time you see them they’re both trying to imitate the songs they’ve heard with musical clicks and calls. :D two eels attempting to serenade you with Christmas music they’ve picked up over the month you’ve been playing it!! <3 and of course when they learn this is the season of giving gifts they’re quick to act, fastening the bones from their meals into cute shapes and tools for you. You are their favorite lab coat, after all~ of course it’s a much more intimate gesture coming from them, but you might not immediately understand that. :)

#twisted chit chat

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burst-of-iridescent · 10 months ago

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South Asian and Hindu Influences in ATLA (Part 1)

disclaimer: i was raised culturally and religiously hindu, and though i've tried to do my research for this post and pair it with my own cultural knowledge, i'm not an expert on hinduism by any means. should i mess up, please let me know.

please also be aware that many of the concepts discussed in this post overlap heavily with religions such as buddhism and jainism, which might have different interpretations and representations. as i'm not from those religions or cultures, i don't want to speak on them, but if anyone with that knowledge wishes to add on, please feel free.

it's well-known that atla draws from indigenous, east and southeast asian influences, but something i rarely see discussed in the fandom is the influences the show takes from hinduism and south asia, and there are actually far more than i think people are aware of.

so here's a (non-exhaustive list) of the main inspirations atla drew from south asian culture and hinduism, starting with...

The Avatar

the title of the show itself is taken from the ancient language of sanskrit, often considered the sacred tongue of the hindu religion. in sanskrit, the word "avatar" means to "descend" or "alight".

the concept of the avatar is a very old one, referring to the physical incarnation of a powerful deity or spirit. the idea of the avatar is most often linked to the god Vishnu, one of three supreme hindu gods collectively called the trimurti, or trinity. the avatar is said to manifest upon earth primarily in times of great need, when balance must be maintained between the forces of good and evil.

atla borrows heavily from this idea in having aang be the incarnation of a divine spirit who returns to the world during a time of immense strife, and is tasked with defeating a great evil to bring balance back to the world. and though i don't know if it was an intentional reference, it's interesting to note that Krishna, the most famous incarnation of Vishnu was also reborn amidst a fierce storm and carried through a raging sea to a new home where he would be protected from the king who sought to kill him. sounds a little familiar, doesn't it?

Agni Kai and the Philosophy of Firebending

the word "agni" derives from the sanskrit name Agni, the god of fire, though it can also generally mean "fire".

the concepts of lightning bending and the sun being the source of firebending are likely also taken from the idea of Agni, since he's said to exist simultaneously in three different forms on three different dimensions: as fire on earth, as lightning in the atmosphere, and as the sun in the sky.

Agni is a significant aspect of many rituals, including marriage rites, death rites, and the festivals of holi and diwali. the concept of Agni is one of duality: life and death, rebirth and destruction. hindu rituals accept and celebrate both aspects, revolving around the idea that destruction is not separate from creation, but rather necessary to facilitate it. the cremation of the dead, for instance, is seen as purification, not destruction: burning away the physical form so the soul is unencumbered, set free to continue the reincarnation cycle.

this influence can be seen in the firebending masters episode, which discusses the idea of fire being vital to life. the sun warriors safeguarding the original fire and demanding that zuko and aang bring fire to the dragons as a sacrifice could also reference the ritual of Agnihotra - the ritual of keeping a fire at the home hearth and making offerings to it. the purpose of this ritual differs depending on which text you refer to, but it is generally believed to purify the person and atmosphere in which it is performed, similar to how zuko and aang must make offerings to ran and shaw and survive their fire before being deemed worthy and pure.

Agnihotra is said to serve as a symbolic reminder of the vitality and importance of fire as the driving force of life, a lesson that zuko and aang also internalize from their encounter with the dragons.

Bumi

bumi's name is taken from the sanskrit word "bhumi", which means "earth". it's also the name of the hindu goddess of the earth, bumi or bhudevi.

one of the things the original animation didn't do and which i really enjoyed about the live action was that they made bumi indian and added desi inspiration to omashu. it makes perfect sense for a king whose name is as hindu-inspired as they come.

NWT Royal Palace

chief arnook's palace in the northern water tribe takes inspiration from the gopurams of hindu temples, massive pyramidal structures that served as entrance towers to the temple.

gopurams were built tall enough to be seen for miles around, beacons to signal tired or weary travellers who wished for a place to rest that a temple was nearby. it's a nice touch that the chief's palace is located in front of the spirit oasis, a similarly symbolic entryway to a sanctuary housing otherworldly deities.

Betrothal Necklaces

to preface: i doubt this was an intentional reference, and this great post talks about other cultures that could have inspired the water tribe betrothal necklaces. given the desi influence in the nwt architecture however, i figured it was worth mentioning.

the idea of betrothal necklaces being given to women by their male partners is similar to the thaali, a necklace given to hindu wives by their husbands. during hindu weddings, grooms tie the thaali around their brides' necks to symbolize their marriage. once given, wives are expected to wear their thaali till the day they die, as doing so is believed to bring good luck, health and prosperity to their husbands.

Chi-Blocking

though chi-blocking takes primary inspiration from the art of Dim Mak, it is also influenced by the south indian martial arts forms of adimurai and kalaripayattu, both of which include techniques of striking vital points in the body to disable or kill an opponent.

kalaripayattu also shares parallels with firebending, being a very physically demanding, aggressive martial art that emphasises the importance of discipline and mental fortitude. control of the mind is essential to control of the body, a philosophy similar to that espoused by iroh across the show.

Wan Shi Tong's Library

the library draws inspiration partly from the taj mahal, the famous mausoleum constructed by shah jahan during the mughal empire as a monument to his beloved wife, mumtaz mahal.

i'll end this post here since it's getting too long as it is, and the following section will be even longer. for while atla treated the concepts in this post with respect, the same unfortunately cannot be said for its depiction of guru pathik and combustion man - both of which we'll be discussing next.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #atla cultural influences #hinduism in atla

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bethanythebogwitch · 12 days ago

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Wet Beast Wednesday: Christmas tree worm

Merry Christmas from the ocean! For this festive occasion, I’ve chosen to cover an animal that certainly has the spirit of the season. The Christmas tree worm is the person who keeps their Christmas lights up all year of the sea and today we’re going to see what makes them tick.

(Image: the crown of a Christmas tree worm. It appears as two stalks emerging from amongst coral polyps. Small feathery, appendages emerge from the stalks in a spiral formation going up them. They are yellow, with brown tips. A smaller, round structure is near the base of the trees. End ID)

The Christmas tree worm (Spirobranchus giganteus) is a polychaete worm of the tube-building fan worm clade Sabellida. While they are called giganteus, that’s only relative to other fan worms as they max out at about 3.8 cm (1.5 in) long. Being tube worms, they build a tube of calcium carbonate that they live in. This tube provides protection for the worm, who can retreat into it if threatened by predators. Polychaetes are defined by the paired bristle-like chaetes on each body segment, which are often used for locomotion. Tube worms like the Christmas tree worm lack these kind of locomotive appendages as they spend their entire lives in their tubes.

I couldn't find a full-body picture of a Christmas tree worm outside of its tube, so this is the best you get. (Image: Serpula vermicularis, a member of the same family of tube worms as the Christmas tree worm, removed from its tube. It is a short, segmented worm with a plug on a stalk and a crown consisting of long, feathery tentacles arranged differently than those of a Christmas tree worm. End ID)

The feature that gives these worms their common name is a pair of feathery, spiraling structures that emerge from the head and look quite a bit like tiny, colorful fir trees. These structures, called crowns, are heavily modified version of mouth appendages called prostomial palps. The feathery bits are tentacles called radioles. The crown is usually the only part of the worm visible, with the rest of its body safely in the tube. The crown is used both for feeding and respiration, as it can perform gas exchange with the water like gills. Christmas tree worms, like other fan worms, are filter feeders. They expose their crows to the water and wait for edible plankton and bits or organic detritus to get caught by the radioles. Cilia then transports the food down to the mouth. Christmas tree worms have a modified radiole called an operculum that acts like a lid to the front of the tube, closing it off when the worm retreats. The crown also has light-sensing structures, allowing it to detect light and shadow. The visual capabilities of these eye spots is poorly studied. The crown makes up about a third of the body length and can come in a wide variety of colors. It can regenerate if damaged.

(Image: a blue-crowned Christmas tree worm emerging from yellow coral. End ID)

Christmas tree worms are found across most of the world, from the Caribbean to the Indo-Pacific, in tropical waters. They are coral reef dwellers who live in burrows built into had corals. Brain coral species are their preferred hosts, but they can live on other corals and have been reported living in sponges and on giant clams. Christmas tree worms certainly have a symbiotic relationship with the corals, it's debatable whether that relationship is parasitic, commensal, or mutualistic. They may damage nearby polyps and could spread harmful algae (that seems to be an open question), but I found sources suggesting they improve water flow around the coral, which could benefit it. When they sense a threat, the worms will rapidly retract into their tubes. Some time later (which can be seconds to minutes), they will cautiously emerge again. Worms living on crowded corals seem to be more timid, taking longer to emerge again. Christmas tree worms are broadcast spawners who release their gametes into the water. Fertilized eggs hatch quickly into larvae who must find their way to a coral and start their burrow. Christmas tree worms can live up to 30 years.

(GIF: a bright yellow Christmas tree worm retracting into its tube. The full retraction takes less than a second and leaves only a hole covered by the operculum. End ID)

Christmas tree worms are considered to have a stable population, but as they are dependent on corals, threats to reefs are threats to them. Thus, global climate change is a major threat to their survival. Predators of the worms include fish, starfish, and other worms. They are not of commercial interest to humans, but are popular among divers and have entered the aquarium trade.

(Image: multiple Christmas tree worms of various colors emerging from a coral. End ID)

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novaursa · 5 months ago

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Between the Flames (Part 1)

- Summary: You and Gwayne see each other after years of separation, as King Viserys I organizes a hunt for his son's nameday. But time is a cruel mistress.

- Paring: Gwayne Hightower/targ!reader/Daemon Targaryen

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, has silver hair, is bonded with Silverwing. Time is unspecified for events that take place, and there will be part 2. If you want to read parts before this in chronological order, visit my blog, the list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+ (there is no adult content present, but is mentioned)

- Word count: 4 252

- Tag(s): @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @sachaa-ff

The camp is alive with the sounds of celebration, laughter ringing out over the open fields as the royal tents stand tall against the evening sky. The hunt is in full swing, with nobles from across the realm gathered to honor Aegon’s name day, a grand spectacle meant to showcase the strength and unity of the kingdom under King Viserys. The smell of roasting meat and the warmth of firelight create a welcoming atmosphere, though Gwayne Hightower feels none of it. His heart pounds with anticipation, his eyes scanning the sea of faces, searching.

It has been years since he last saw you, the young princess with a fierce spirit and a dragon’s heart. Time and distance have done nothing to diminish the ache within him, a longing that has only grown stronger with each passing day. He has resisted every effort by his father, Otto Hightower, to wed him to another. Every noble lady, no matter how beautiful or accomplished, has paled in comparison to you. The memory of your laughter, your fierce gaze, your bond with Silverwing—all of it haunts him still.

And now, with the excuse of his nephew’s name day, he has come here, determined to see you again.

Gwayne moves through the crowd, his eyes flicking from one face to another. Lords and ladies bow and curtsy as he passes, offering pleasantries and congratulations. He nods politely, but his mind is elsewhere, focused solely on finding you.

At last, he spots you near the edge of the encampment, where the noise of the festivities begins to fade into the night. You stand with your back to him, your silver hair catching the firelight, creating a halo that makes you appear almost otherworldly. Your stance is strong, regal, a true daughter of the Targaryen line. For a moment, he hesitates, taking in the sight of you, as if afraid that moving too quickly might shatter the fragile reality of this moment.

Finally, he approaches, the sound of his boots crunching on the gravel as he closes the distance between you. When you turn, your eyes meet his, and it feels as though the world falls away. The years melt in an instant, leaving only the two of you standing there, as if no time at all has passed.

“Y/N,” Gwayne breathes your name, his voice betraying the depth of his emotion.

Your expression is unreadable at first, guarded, but then it softens ever so slightly, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. “Ser Gwayne,” you greet him, your voice as melodic as he remembers, though tinged with a maturity that comes from the experiences of the years apart. “It has been some time.”

“Far too long,” he agrees, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you might feel the same. “You are more radiant than I remember, if that is even possible.”

Your smile grows a touch wider, though there’s a shadow in your gaze, a flicker of something that he cannot quite name. “You have not changed at all, Gwayne. Still the same with your words.”

He chuckles softly, a sound that eases some of the tension in his chest. “And you are still as sharp as ever, my lady.”

There is a pause, a silence that stretches between you, filled with the unspoken weight of the years apart. Gwayne longs to reach out, to take your hand in his, but he holds back, uncertain of how you might respond. He notices how your gaze shifts slightly, as if looking beyond him, perhaps to the memories of what might have been—or to someone else.

“Have you enjoyed the festivities?” he asks, his voice carefully casual, though his heart is anything but.

“As much as one can enjoy such events,” you reply, your tone betraying a hint of weariness. “Though I confess, I find little joy in the politics that surround them.”

He nods in understanding, feeling a surge of protectiveness. “I would spare you from such things if I could,” he says softly, his eyes locking onto yours, his meaning clear.

Your gaze softens again, and for a moment, Gwayne dares to hope that perhaps you might still hold some affection for him. But then, as if reminded of something, your expression hardens ever so slightly, and you step back, creating a distance between you once more.

“We live in a world where such burdens cannot be avoided, Ser Gwayne,” you say, your voice firm. “We must all play our part.”

Gwayne feels a pang of disappointment, though he cannot fault you for it. You are a princess of the realm, your life governed by duty and expectations far beyond your control. He knows this, has always known it, but it does not make it any easier to accept.

“Of course,” he replies, bowing his head slightly. “But know that my feelings for you have not changed, Y/N. They never will.”

For a brief moment, something flashes in your eyes—regret, perhaps, or sadness. But it is gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the mask of composure that you wear so well.

“Thank you, Gwayne,” you say quietly, your voice tinged with a gentleness that cuts him deeper than any blade could. “You will always be a dear friend to me.”

Friend. The word lingers in the air between you, heavy with finality. Gwayne forces a smile, though it feels like a physical effort to do so. “And you to me, my princess.”

Just then, the sound of approaching footsteps reaches his ears, and he turns to see none other than Prince Daemon Targaryen striding toward you. The Rogue Prince’s presence is as commanding as ever, his gaze sharp as it settles on you, then flicks briefly to Gwayne, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

“Y/N,” Daemon greets you, his voice laced with a familiarity that makes Gwayne’s stomach twist. “I’ve been looking for you. The fire needs more stoking.”

You smile at Daemon, a genuine warmth in your expression that Gwayne cannot help but notice. “I was just speaking with Ser Gwayne, Uncle.”

Daemon’s smirk widens, and he gives Gwayne a nod, though there’s a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Ser Gwayne. Always a pleasure.”

“The pleasure is mine, my prince,” Gwayne replies, forcing his voice to remain steady.

The moment between the three of you is charged, filled with undercurrents that Gwayne cannot fully grasp but feels deeply. He knows of Daemon’s reputation, his tendency to flout the rules and take what he desires without care for the consequences. The way Daemon looks at you, the ease with which he speaks to you—it all sends a fresh wave of unease through Gwayne.

“Well,” Daemon says, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before turning back to Gwayne. “I’m sure we’ll all have plenty of time to catch up later. But for now, Y/N, shall we?”

You nod, and as you turn to follow Daemon, you glance back at Gwayne one last time. There is something in your eyes, a silent apology, perhaps, or a farewell that cuts deeper than words could. And then you are gone, walking away with Daemon, leaving Gwayne standing alone in the fading light of the evening.

He watches you go, his heart heavy with the realization that though he may love you, though he may have refused all others for you, he is not the one who holds your heart. That honor, it seems, belongs to another—a man who is as different from him as fire is from water.

And so, as the sounds of the camp continue around him, Gwayne Hightower stands in the gathering darkness, his love for you unchanged, but his hopes for the future irrevocably altered.

The night air is cool against your skin as you walk beside Daemon, the distant sounds of the camp growing fainter with each step. The flames of the torches cast flickering shadows on the ground, mirroring the turmoil within your heart. Though your feet move forward, your thoughts remain with the man you left behind, the one whose name lingers on your lips like a prayer you cannot utter.

Gwayne Hightower.

You force yourself to focus on the path ahead, to keep pace with Daemon as he leads you further away from the others. His presence is a familiar one—commanding, intense, and undeniably magnetic. But tonight, even Daemon’s fiery spirit cannot chase away the chill that has settled over your soul.

It has been years since you and Gwayne were separated, years since the king denied his suit for your hand. You accepted your fate long ago, knowing that duty would always outweigh your desires. And yet, despite your best efforts to bury those feelings deep within, they have refused to die. The sight of Gwayne, the sound of his voice—it has brought everything rushing back, a flood of emotions you had thought you could control.

Daemon is silent as you walk, but you can sense the tension radiating from him. He is a man who thrives on attention, on being the center of everyone’s world, and he is not blind to your distraction. You can feel his eyes on you, sharp and probing, as if trying to unravel the thoughts that keep you so far from him in this moment.

Finally, he stops, turning to face you with an expression that is equal parts annoyance and curiosity. “You’re quiet tonight, niece,” he remarks, his tone deceptively light, though there’s an edge to it that you cannot ignore. “I find it… unsettling.”

You force a smile, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Do you now?” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. “Perhaps I’m simply tired from the day’s events.”

Daemon’s gaze narrows, and he steps closer, his presence looming over you like a storm cloud. “Do not play games with me, Y/N,” he warns, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble. “I know when your mind is elsewhere. And I know where it lingers.”

Your heart clenches painfully in your chest, the truth of his words cutting deeper than you care to admit. Of course, Daemon knows. He always knows. He has a way of seeing through the masks you wear, of peeling back the layers to reveal the raw, unfiltered emotions beneath. And now, he sees the ache in your heart, the longing that you cannot seem to hide.

“What does it matter?” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “It changes nothing.”

“It matters because I’m here,” Daemon replies, his tone sharp, almost accusing. “And yet you’re still thinking of him. Of that knight who cannot give you what I can.”

You flinch at his words, the truth of them stinging like a physical blow. Daemon has always been blunt, unafraid to speak the things that others would avoid. But tonight, his words feel especially cruel, a reminder of the reality you have tried so hard to ignore.

“You think I don’t know?” Daemon continues, his eyes boring into yours. “You think I don’t see the way you look at him, even after all these years? The way your heart still aches for him, even though he’s not yours to have?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you find yourself unable to meet his gaze. “It doesn’t matter,” you repeat, more to convince yourself than him. “I made my choice. I accepted it.”

“But you didn’t stop loving him,” Daemon says, his voice softer now, though no less intense. “No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t bury that part of you.”

The truth of his words is like a knife twisting in your chest, and you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “No,” you admit, your voice trembling. “I couldn’t.”

There is a long silence between you, filled only by the distant crackling of the campfires and the rustle of the wind through the trees. Daemon watches you closely, his expression unreadable, as if weighing his next words carefully.

“I could kill him,” Daemon finally says, his voice as cold and cutting as Valyrian steel. “End his life and free you from this torment.”

The words send a shock through you, your eyes snapping up to meet his in alarm. There is no hint of jest in his tone, no trace of a smile on his lips. Daemon is deadly serious, and the realization sends a chill down your spine.

“You wouldn’t,” you say, though the uncertainty in your voice betrays your doubt.

Daemon’s lips curl into a dark smile, one that sends a shiver through you. “I would, if it meant ridding you of this pathetic attachment,” he says, his voice laced with a mix of cruelty and possessiveness. “I’d do anything to see you truly free.”

“Daemon, please,” you plead, your voice breaking. “Don’t speak of such things.”

He steps closer, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the harshness of his words. “Then stop torturing yourself over a man you can never have,” he says, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe. “He’s not worthy of your tears, Y/N. Not when you have me.”

You close your eyes, the warmth of his hand against your skin a stark contrast to the cold emptiness inside you. Daemon’s words are like a balm and a poison all at once, offering a twisted kind of comfort even as they deepen the wound in your heart.

“I don’t want to feel this way,” you whisper, the confession slipping out before you can stop it. “I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

Daemon’s hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your foreheads are nearly touching. “Then let me make you forget,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “Let me give you something real to hold onto.”

For a moment, you allow yourself to lean into him, to take solace in his strength, his unyielding certainty. Daemon has always been a force of nature, a man who bends the world to his will without hesitation or regret. And in his arms, you can almost believe that he can chase away the shadows that cling to your heart, that he can make you forget the man who still haunts your dreams.

But deep down, you know the truth. You know that no matter how hard you try, no matter how desperately you cling to the life you’ve chosen, the love you hold for Gwayne will never truly fade. It is a part of you, as much as your blood, as much as the fire that burns in your veins.

“I can’t forget him,” you say, your voice barely audible. “I wish I could, but I can’t.”

Daemon’s grip on you tightens for a moment, as if in frustration, but then he lets out a low, resigned sigh. “Then live with it,” he says, his tone harsh but not unkind. “Live with the pain, but don’t let it control you. Don’t let it make you weak.”

You nod slowly, tears finally spilling over and tracing down your cheeks. “I’ll try,” you whisper, though even as you say the words, you know it will be the hardest thing you’ve ever done.

Daemon wipes the tears from your face with a rough tenderness that only he could manage, his expression softening as he looks at you. “You’re stronger than you think, Y/N,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a rare note of sincerity. “Don’t ever forget that.”

You meet his gaze, searching his eyes for the truth in his words. Daemon is many things—volatile, unpredictable, dangerous—but he has never lied to you, never sugar-coated the realities of the world you live in. And as much as his words sting, you know that there is truth in them.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, to find the strength to carry the burden of your love for Gwayne without letting it crush you. “Thank you,” you say, your voice still shaky, but there’s a resolve forming in your chest, a determination to survive the pain, even if you can never truly be free of it.

Daemon’s expression softens further, and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, a rare gesture of affection from a man who so often uses force to get what he wants. “We’ll get through this,” he murmurs against your skin. “You and me. We always do.”

You nod, though you cannot find the words to respond. Instead, you simply close your eyes and allow yourself to take comfort in the warmth of his presence, the solid weight of his hand on the back of your neck. For tonight, at least, you can pretend that the ache in your heart is something you can live with, that the choice you made all those years ago was the right one.

But as you stand there, wrapped in Daemon’s embrace, you know that the love you hold for Gwayne Hightower will never truly die. It will live on, a silent ghost that lingers at the edges of your heart, haunting you even as you move forward with your life.

And perhaps that is your fate—to live with the echoes of a love that could never be, even as you forge a path forward with the man who stands by your side, fierce and unyielding as the fire in your veins.

The next morning dawns crisp and clear, the early light filtering through the trees as the royal hunting party prepares to set out. The air is thick with anticipation, the excitement of the hunt buzzing in the air as hounds bark and horses paw at the ground. For many, this is a day of sport, of proving their prowess and enjoying the camaraderie of noblemen. But for Gwayne Hightower, it is a day of distraction, a chance to focus his mind on something other than the ache that still lingers in his chest.

He tightens his grip on the reins, trying to push thoughts of you from his mind. The night before has left him raw, your words, your eyes—everything about you has seared itself into his memory. But now, he must focus on the task at hand. He must be the knight his family expects him to be, strong, composed, and unyielding.

King Viserys leads the party, his laughter booming through the woods as he rides at the front with a few lords. Otto Hightower is nearby, his expression as unreadable as ever, his calculating gaze sweeping over the group. Daemon is there as well, his presence as imposing as always, a dark shadow against the brightness of the morning.

Gwayne tries to ignore him, focusing instead on the path ahead, on the sounds of the forest and the feel of the horse beneath him. But he can feel Daemon’s eyes on him, can sense the Rogue Prince’s amusement at the way Gwayne pointedly avoids looking at him. It’s only a matter of time before Daemon makes his move, and Gwayne steels himself, determined not to let the prince get under his skin.

As the hunting party progresses deeper into the woods, the group begins to spread out, the king and his closest men moving ahead while others fall behind. Gwayne stays toward the middle, keeping a steady pace and maintaining a watchful eye. He’s aware of Daemon’s proximity, the prince’s presence a constant reminder of the tension that simmers just beneath the surface.

Daemon, ever the provocateur, starts with small jabs, his voice carrying on the wind as he speaks to Otto with that familiar, mocking tone. “I wonder, Lord Hand, do you think your nephew here has the stomach for the hunt? He seems rather preoccupied, wouldn’t you say?”

Otto glances at Gwayne but says nothing, his expression impassive. Gwayne feels the words like a prick to his pride, but he refuses to rise to the bait. Instead, he offers a stiff smile, his voice carefully controlled as he replies, “I assure you, my prince, I am more than capable of handling myself.”

Daemon’s eyes glint with amusement, as if he’s found exactly what he was looking for. “Oh, I’ve no doubt of that,” he says, his tone laced with a challenge. “But a man’s heart can often cloud his judgment, especially when it’s not truly his to control.”

Gwayne tightens his grip on the reins, forcing himself to remain calm. Daemon is trying to provoke him, to draw out a reaction, just as he does with Otto. But Gwayne has spent years honing his control, years of learning to hide his true feelings behind a mask of composure. He won’t give Daemon the satisfaction of seeing him crack.

The party begins to separate as they reach a denser part of the forest, the sounds of the hunt growing more distant as the group spreads out in search of game. Gwayne finds himself alone with Daemon, the others having moved ahead or fallen behind. The forest is quiet around them, the only sound the steady beat of the horses’ hooves against the soft earth.

It is in this solitude that Daemon strikes.

“You know, Gwayne,” Daemon says, his voice suddenly softer, more insidious, “you’re wasting your time pining after her. You think she’s yours because she once gave you her heart? But you’re a fool if you believe that she still holds you in her thoughts.”

Gwayne’s jaw clenches, but he remains silent, his eyes fixed straight ahead. He knows where this is going, and he’s determined not to let Daemon’s words affect him.

But Daemon is relentless, leaning closer, his voice a poisonous whisper. “She’s with me now. She chose me. And every time you see her, every time you think of her, remember that it’s me she turns to when the night grows cold. It’s my name she whispers in the dark, not yours.”

The words strike deep, hitting the very core of the pain that Gwayne has tried so hard to suppress. He can feel his control slipping, the mask cracking as anger and hurt surge within him. But still, he tries to hold it together, his voice low and strained as he replies, “She may be with you, but she’ll never truly be yours. You think you’ve won her, but you don’t understand her. She’s not someone you can control, Daemon. She gave herself to me—heart, body, and soul—and no matter what you do, you’ll never have that.”

Daemon’s expression darkens, the easy smile vanishing as something more dangerous flickers in his eyes. “Is that so?” he says quietly, his voice deadly calm. “Then perhaps I should remind you of your place, Hightower.”

Before Gwayne can react, Daemon moves with lightning speed, his hand shooting out to shove Gwayne back against a tree. The force of the impact knocks the breath from Gwayne’s lungs, his back slamming into the rough bark as Daemon looms over him, his grip like iron on Gwayne’s chest.

“You think you know her?” Daemon hisses, his face inches from Gwayne’s. “You think she’ll ever love you again after what you’ve become? After what you’ve let happen?”

Gwayne struggles to breathe, his hands instinctively reaching up to push Daemon away, but the prince’s strength is formidable, his fury palpable. “You don’t know anything,” Gwayne spits back, his voice raw with anger. “You may have her now, but you’ll never understand the depth of what we had. She may lie beside you, but her heart will always remember what we shared.”

Daemon’s eyes flash with something dark, something close to true rage, and for a moment, Gwayne wonders if the prince will strike him, if he’ll go further than just a shove. But then, just as suddenly as it began, Daemon steps back, releasing Gwayne and letting him slide down the tree to catch his breath.

Gwayne’s chest heaves as he tries to regain his composure, his hands curling into fists as he watches Daemon. The prince’s expression is unreadable now, his eyes narrowed as he regards Gwayne with a mixture of contempt and something else—something more dangerous, something more personal.

“Careful, Hightower,” Daemon says softly, his voice like a blade cutting through the air. “You may think yourself noble, but in this world, it’s power that wins. And I have all the power I need to keep what’s mine.”

Gwayne glares at him, his breath still coming in harsh gasps, but he doesn’t reply. There’s nothing more to say, nothing that can ease the pain in his chest or the fury that burns in his veins. Daemon has made his point, and Gwayne knows that he must tread carefully from here on out.

As Daemon turns to leave, mounting his horse with a smooth, practiced motion, Gwayne remains where he is, leaning against the tree as he struggles to gather himself. The encounter has left him shaken, the truth of Daemon’s words hanging heavy in the air.

But despite the prince’s threats, despite the pain that tears at him, Gwayne refuses to let go of the one thing that has kept him going all these years—the memory of you, the love that still burns in his heart, even if it can never be fully realized.

And as he watches Daemon ride off into the forest, Gwayne swears to himself that no matter what happens, no matter how much it costs him, he will never let Daemon take that from him.

#house of the dragon #viserys targaryen #daemon targaryen #otto hightower #gwayne x y/n #gwayne x you #gwayne x reader #gwayne hightower #ser gwayne #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon x you #daemon x y/n #hotd daemon #daemon x reader #silverwing #game of thrones

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aroaessidhe · 3 months ago

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2024 reads / storygraph

The Sea Spirit Festival

book 3 in a high fantasy novella series

four friends traveling in a sentient wagon searching for answers about themselves and the dangerous magic fragments plaguing the land enter across a coastal city, intending to book passage across the sea

but transit is paused during a festival, where the city is waiting for an ocean spirit to rise and give them guidance - and as the days go on without it happening, they end up entangled in the chaos

#The Sea Spirit Festival #the chronicles of nerezia #ahh good friendship!#I never have much to add in reviews of one in a series but I enjoy how the story is progressing and how their relationships are developing!#I love Horace and Aliyah’s cuddles and also Keza learning to swim…#aroaessidhe 2024 reads #aroace books #aromantic books

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gingermintpepper · 4 months ago

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I haven't read the Odyssey so I'm asking you. Are you telling me besides Athena, Apollo was the god who helped Odysseus and his family the most? Indirectly at least.

If that's true it's really a missed opportunity in EPIC.

No, no, the god who assists Odysseus the most after Athena is unquestionably Zeus.

Zeus genuinely has no problems with Odysseus and makes it very clear that he finds the man brilliant and would have already had him home and safe if he had his way, but he makes it clear that he's deferring to Poseidon who actually has the problem with Odysseus because, ultimately, the sea is Poseidon's domain and kingdom and Zeus doesn't intend to step on his brother's toes.

(Od. Book 1 trans. Robert Fitzgerald)

I'd definitely give third place to Apollo however. The big bug-bear about Apollo in the Odyssey is just that he's much less tangible than Athena or even Hermes who appears to Odysseus multiple times to help guide him/give him proclamations. His presence is everywhere though; like I've previously mentioned (and like he did with Jason) it's Apollo protecting Odysseus from Poseidon as he sails the sea after Odysseus blinds Polyphemus. It's also Apollo keeping Telemachus safe. His most vital role by far is when Odysseus returns to Ithaca in time for the challenge that will determine the next king. Not only is it a shooting contest whose first hurdle is to string a bow, the challenge itself takes place on a festival day for Apollo. Athena is there with Odysseus and Telemachus physically, but Apollo is looking after them in spirit, sending signs and signals to keep Telemachus especially safe.

(Od. Book 15, Telemachus warns about the state of Odysseus' house to Theoclymenus, a son of one of Apollo's prophets.)

There's also the fact that Odysseus makes sure to pray to Apollo before he attempts to string the bow:

(Od. Book 21. Beggar-Odysseus petitions to shoot his shot)

Likewise, before he slays the first suitor, Odysseus again prays for Apollo's guidance and gaze to guide his arrows:

(Od. Book 22. Odysseus commits the first of many (divinely-sanctioned) murders)

Also, as an additional thing, have Telemachus invoking Zeus, Athena and Apollo that he could see the suitors have their asses beat:

(Od. Book 18. Telemachus excitedly gushes to him mom about his cool new friend (Odysseus. Odysseus is the friend.)

There's a lot of minimisation of Apollo's role in the Odyssey because it isn't as bright and showy as his role was in the Iliad but hey, even there people tend to minimise how truly present Apollo is for the duration of the war when they're doing adaptations. Within Epic, the stage is already more than set for both Apollo and Athena to be there at the advent of Odysseus' revenge but none of that matters if that's not the creator's intention, y'know?

#ginger rambles #ginger answers asks #the odyssey #epic the musical #epic the wisdom saga #Man shoutout to Antinous for invoking Apollo to be like #oh haha yeah we'll just postpone the challenge and offer a sacrifice to Apollo #so he won't be mad #Like Apollo didn't already have his bow cocked and ready to shoot all the suitors LMAO #Odysseus and Laertes also both thank Apollo for keeping their sons safe btw #Odysseus thanks Apollo offhandedly while speaking about Telemachus -thanking him for ensuring that Telemachus took after him in wisdom #While Laertes is restored for a brief moment after he and Odysseus reunite and he thanks Zeus Athena and Apollo for keeping him and Ody #long enough to have this reunion #Other fun things include: Penelope praying to Artemis to strike her down on the day before the challenge so she never has to be w/h another #man besides Odysseus #The suitors praying (loudly and with fervour) for Apollo to strike Telemachus down #And Odysseus praying to Zeus because the amount of times he wanted to just say “fuck it” and start slaughtering people #for defiling his house LMAO #odysseus #telemachus #apollo #athena #zeus #Thank you for the ask!

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sunnysidesevenup · 6 days ago

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OMG IT HAPPENED??? 300 FOLLOWERS?? I know I’ve been joking about hitting it but I genuinely can’t believe it like: you all like my shenanigans? truly? That’s incredible.

It’s kind of awesome that I hit this on new year’s (for me at least) so let me just take a moment to thank everyone who’s been so cool and supportive. I’ve been having a ton of fun sharing my little projects and interacting with everyone 😭 This is my first time truly engaging in fandom because I’ve been too anxious and depressed previously—I’m so happy I finally started putting myself out there.

ANYWAYS, DONE WITH THE SAPPY STUFF NOW. It’s time for the thing you’re actually here for!! I’ve put a TON of work into it so I really hope people enjoy this silly little event.

Everend’s Cove: Moonlight Song

Every year, Arlo Wake’s hometown holds a Moonlight Festival—in honor of the connection between the moon and the ocean, and the deep ties it has to certain merfolk cultures. This festival is held in many parts of the Coral Sea, but is specifically popular in Everend Cove for its special tradition of holding a singing competition in honor of one of the town’s myths.

As the myth goes, a group of sirens once fell in love with a human boy—so much so that in a selfless act, they saved the boy’s friend from drowning, a young girl whom he was in love with. The competition honors the spirit of love and selflessness, and the nature of the sirens.

Much to Arlo’s horror, his siblings have signed him up for the Moonlight Song competition this year. There’s no way he’s going alone, though. If he has to sing, then he’s forcing some of his classmates to come with him—that way, the attention won’t be fully on him.

Dress Code:

Arlo Wake’s parents are skilled potion masters by trade, and they’ve devised a special, experimental potion this year to turn tourists into merfolk temporarily! It might have a few side effects, but they assure you—any harm the potion causes will be thoroughly compensated!

If you don’t want to risk the potion, there’s always some traditional attire the festival provides. Everend Cove is a joint merfolk and human town, based right around an island, so there’s plenty of things to do both on land and in the sea! The important part of the Moonlight Festival is that you are adorned with sparkling stones and crystals. The more glamorous and mesmerizing the outfit, the better!

For better reference, here are some inspiration boards, and some concept art of possible outfits:

Rules:

it’s not at all necessary to be following me to participate in this event! ANYONE is welcome to join!

Any type of entry is welcome: cards, general art, edits, fics, anything!

It’s not required to use the backgrounds I made, I simply thought it would be fun to draw one ^^

If you don’t want to link your character to my oc, don’t worry about it! It’s not necessary to follow the event story, you can still have fun with the outfits and aesthetic if you want, I don’t mind at all!

If you WOULD like your oc to interact with Arlo, feel free! You have my permission.

You can draw/write for your own character OR a canon character, whatever you want <3 there are “official” participants, but this is all for fun, so it’s not necessary to stick to those.

Please tag me and use #Moonlight Song Competition with your entry so I can properly gush about it ^^

There is NO DEADLINE on this event! Go crazy!

Backgrounds for the SR Cards:

Featured Characters:

SSR Arlo Wake

SR Vil Schoenheit

SR Lilia Vanrouge

R Cater Diamond

SR Joseph Akaba

SSR Flori Mohn-Prinz

>>> Flori and Arlo seeing people’s… questionable singing skills.

SR Peony

Blanche, Mattie and Agate

SR AJ

SR Esra Gryfith

Reese & Kiki sketches

SR Otto Walsh

>>> Otto & Esra doodle

SSR Kyra Lovelace

Fic!!!

#ITS TIME.#HAPPY NEW YEARS AND HAPPY CREATING #twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst oc #twst original character #twst fanart #arlo wake oc #twst fan event #twisted wonderland fan event #Moonlight Song Competition

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nottsbitch · 4 months ago

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Right Here, Right Now - T.N.

Based on that one high school musical 3 scene

✩✩✩✩

As Theo Nott touched down on the pitch, the roar of the Slytherin crowd was deafening. The victory was complete: Slytherin had won the House Cup. Theo’s teammates surged towards him, lifting him high into the air in celebration. The thrill of triumph and the smell of victory filled the crisp evening air.

Hours later, the excitement had shifted from the Quidditch pitch to the Nott residence, where the grand celebration was in full swing. Music and laughter echoed through the opulent halls as students, family, and friends gathered to honor the win. The house was alive with the energy of the Slytherin spirit, with food, drinks, and a great deal of revelry.

Meanwhile, Theo and Matteo were nowhere to be seen. The two friends had found themselves in a less glamorous situation: Theo’s truck had broken down on their way to the party. The situation had quickly escalated from a minor inconvenience to a near disaster, as the truck stubbornly refused to start.

“Keep pushing. You better be pushing!” Theo yelled, his breath visible in the chilly night air as he strained against the vehicle.

“I’m pushing!” Matteo shouted back, his frustration evident. Theo’s truck was heavy and unwieldy, and the prospect of missing out on the party was adding to his exasperation.

“Push harder!” Theo urged, his voice a mix of determination and amusement. They were almost there, just a few more steps from the Nott residence.

Finally, with one last effort, they managed to roll the truck to the edge of the driveway. Theo leaned against the truck, panting and smiling with relief. “Home sweet home,” he said, grinning as he glanced at Matteo.

Matteo gave him a flat look, clearly annoyed. “I’m saving for a new one,” Theo said with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

“Uh-huh, save faster,” Matteo muttered before turning on his heel and heading towards the house, eager to join the festivities.

Theo watched as Matteo disappeared into the party, and with a resigned sigh, he trudged towards the entrance. The contrast between the chaotic scene outside and the lively celebration inside couldn’t have been starker. As he walked in, he was greeted by cheers and claps on the back from his friends and family.

Despite the rough start, the party was as vibrant as expected. Theo joined the crowd, accepting congratulations and high-fives. His friends, including Enzo and others, were animatedly discussing the match and their victory.

As Theo navigated through the party, searching for you amidst the sea of well-wishers, he was momentarily lost in the whirlwind of congratulations. He stopped briefly to exchange pleasantries and thank the well-meaning crowd, but his focus remained on finding you.

When he finally spotted you on the dance floor with Pansy Parkinson, he felt a surge of relief. He made his way over, a genuine smile spreading across his face. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you in a warm embrace.

"Hey," Theo greeted, his voice filled with a mix of joy and exhaustion. "Congratulations, Mr. MVP."

You grinned up at him. "Thanks! Can I fix you a plate?" Even in the midst of the celebration, Theo's thoughtfulness shone through.

"I'll take one of everything" You smiled

"What are we celebrating something?" Theo chuckled, the warmth of your smile making the stress of the day seem almost worth it. Before he could say more, Adrian Pucey swooped in, grabbing Theo's arm.

"What's up, dude? Back-to-back champions, baby!" Pucey exclaimed, his excitement mirroring Theo's earlier exuberance.

Theo was about to respond when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. His father had arrived, ushering him towards a distinguished-looking man who introduced himself as a scout for a professional Quidditch team.

"Let me tell you, that teamwork I saw tonight and the dedication from you, Nott—that's the kind of player I’m looking for," the scout said, his tone sincere.

Theo thanked the man, his mind racing with the possibilities as he tried to process the unexpected opportunity. He turned to find you again, but the crowd had shifted, and he was momentarily disoriented.

Just as he was about to resume his search for you, Pucey stopped him once more, this time with a curious look. “Hey man, great house,” he said, then paused. “Your room? Wicked cool.”

Theo blinked, slightly taken aback. “Oh, thanks, man. Wait, you were in my room?”

"Well yeah I just took a picture... I'm doing mine the same way" He smiled like it was completely normal before pulling out his camera and taking a picture with Theo. The flash confusing him even more then he already was.

Before he could respond Pucey was talking again "Dude we should hang out tonight, Get to know each other"

"yeah sure, I just have to grab the house cup I left it in my truck." Theo thought quickly of a way that he could get away from Pucey.

"Oh dude don't worry I'm on it" And with that he ran off, leaving Theo alone once again and brininging him back to his search.

✩✩✩✩

Theo’s treehouse, tucked away in the branches of an old oak tree, was a nostalgic retreat from the bustling party below. The evening sky was awash with twilight hues, casting a gentle glow over the scene. Theo led you up the wooden ladder with a mix of excitement and nervousness, keen to share this personal space with someone special.

As you reached the top and stepped into the cozy, somewhat cluttered room, you were greeted by the familiar smell of pine and the faint scent of old books. The space was adorned with old Quidditch memorabilia, photographs, and sketches—evidence of the countless hours Theo had spent up here as a child.

“So, another top-secret hiding place,” you said, slipping your hand into his and looking around with interest.

Theo chuckled, his eyes twinkling with a mix of pride and nostalgia. “You’re the second girl I’ve ever brought up here,” he said, his voice softening as he met your gaze.

You raised an eyebrow playfully. “The first?”

“The first was my mom,” he said, pausing to see your reaction. When you elbowed him gently, he continued, “And she only climbed up here to get me down when I got stuck.”

Both of you burst into laughter, the sound echoing softly in the quiet, serene space.

“Well, I’m honored,” you said, taking in the view of the Nott estate. “This place is so cool.”

“Yeah, my dad and I built it together,” Theo said, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. “It’s been a special place for me.”

You nodded, glancing over at him. “Is that the coach from the pro team who he hasn't stopped talking about in weeks?”

“The very same,” Theo said, a note of amazement in his voice. “He’s here at my house tonight. It’s surreal.”

“I bet he’s already got your name on a jersey,” you teased.

“That’s always been my dad’s dream,” Theo said, his tone filled with warmth. “He’s been so supportive and I know he's proud .”

“I’m proud of you too,” you added softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Theo’s expression grew contemplative. “The thing about going pro is…”

He was cut off by you both speaking at once. “I’ll be 1,000 miles away.”

Theo stopped, his gaze fixed on you. “It feels like this year is flying by.”

“Yeah,” you said with a sigh, “I wish it would slow down, at least for a little while.”

Theo took a deep breath, looking around the treehouse as if trying to hold on to the moment. “Well, at least we have right now.”

“That’s true,” you agreed, leaning closer.

“And right here, right now,” Theo said, his voice soft and earnest, “I’m looking at you, and my heart loves the view.”

You laughed, the sound light and full of affection. “That was pretty cheesy.”

“I know,” Theo said, grinning sheepishly. “But I meant every word.”

You smiled back at him, feeling a sense of contentment and connection in the quiet intimacy of the treehouse. The party below seemed like a distant memory, replaced by the shared moment between the two of you.

Theo leaned in, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the lantern hanging above. “I’m glad we could share this moment together.”

“Me too,” you said, your voice barely a whisper as you leaned in closer. “It’s been a night to remember.”

As you two leaned in and shared a slow kiss the winning fireworks were set off in the back. Perfect timing.

As the party below carried on, the sounds of celebration drifting up to the treehouse, Theo and you were content in the knowledge that, despite the uncertainties of the future, you had each other and a memory that would last long after the night was over.

✩✩✩✩

This was kind of hard to write at the end because I didn't want them breaking out into song.

#harry potter #theo nott #matteo riddle #slytherin boys #tom riddle #draco malfoy #enzo berkshire #slytherin #hp universe #theo nott imagine #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theo nott fic #theo nott x y/n #Spotify

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89pedri · 4 months ago

Text

Leaves in the River | Mason Mount

Pairing: Mason Mount x Reader

Summary: Mason meets a girl on Halloween. She was drunk and he was lost.

Warnings: None? Alcohol?

Word count: 4.7k+

Note: Hi everyone, it's been over a year, I think, since I last posted something here. I'm still out here reading and liking fics, so I thought I'd post this!

Hope you like it!!!

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‧₊ *:･ﾟ彡 ◌ ☽︎ ◌

◌ ✩彡･ﾟ *:

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It was a chilly Halloween night, with the wind whistling through the streets and carrying the crisp scent of fallen leaves. Inside an old mansion on the outskirts of Manchester, dim candle light flickered, casting eerie shadows on the walls. The grand, creaky rooms were filled with the chatter of unfamiliar faces, their costumes ranging from the elaborate to the absurd. Music thumped through the wooden floors, and costumed revelers were lost in a sea of laughter and dancing.

But Mason, still recovering from a series of injuries, felt strangely detached from it all. At a party he didn’t really want to attend, his teammates had insisted he come along, hoping to lift his spirits. They had been buoyant and energetic at first, eager to immerse themselves in the festivities, but as the night wore on, Mason found himself drifting away from them. Despite their good intentions, he felt more isolated than ever.

While everyone mingled and danced, their laughter and easy conversations seemed to belong to a world that was just out of his reach. Mason had retreated to a quiet corner of the room, nursing a drink as he watched the scene unfold around him. The contrast between their vibrant enjoyment and his own muted existence was jarring. He felt like an outsider, a ghost drifting among the living, disconnected from the energy and warmth that surrounded him.

In all honesty, he was profoundly sad, unable to escape the weight of his unfulfilled potential. Despite his high-profile transfer, his injuries had kept him from truly proving his worth on the field. Each missed match and postponed comeback only deepened his frustration. What he had envisioned as a triumphant return to the top seemed increasingly out of reach. Instead, he found himself sidelined, grappling with feelings of inadequacy and the fear that his time to shine might slip away.

In the midst of his spiraling thoughts, his gaze inadvertently fell upon her.

She stood near the back door, her angel costume strikingly detailed. Her white wings, delicate and meticulously crafted with sparkles, seemed to catch every glimmer of the low light, casting a soft glow. Her flowing dress, made of gauzy fabric, draped around her, creating a shimmering effect as she swayed to the music. Her dark hair fell in loose, damp waves around her shoulders.

Mason had noticed her from the corner of his eye earlier in the evening. At first, she had been a quiet, almost unnoticed presence among the more boisterous guests. As the night wore on, though, she had gradually come into focus. He saw her exchanging friendly nods and small, genuine smiles with those around her, her interactions marked by a warmth that contrasted sharply with the chaotic energy of the party.

Her demeanor was calm and poised, as if she was naturally attuned to the subtle rhythms of social grace. Despite the lively crowd, she seemed to float through the room with an effortless ease. Her presence an oasis of serenity that Mason envied.

In stark contrast, he felt like a mere caricature in his hastily assembled devil costume. The red horns were crooked, and the tail hung limply, clearly a last-minute addition rather than a deliberate choice.

He wanted to break free from the shadows and join her in the light. Mason's longing to connect with her was intertwined with his deeper yearning for escape from the burdens that plagued him. He wanted to share in the grace she embodied, but he was caught in his own tumultuous reality, unable to bridge the chasm that separated their worlds.

He took a deep swig of his drink, the warmth of the alcohol offering a fleeting sense of courage. Gathering his resolve, he pushed through the sea of revelers and approached her cautiously, each step heavy with a mix of curiosity and hesitation. When he was close enough, he cleared his throat, trying to sound casual.

“Hey,” he said, aiming for a nonchalant tone. “You okay?”

She looked up, momentarily surprised to see him. Her deep, soulful brown eyes revealed a trace of sadness he hadn’t noticed before, but she greeted him with a cheeky smile.

“Yeah,” she replied softly, her voice laced with playful mischief. “I’m just not really feeling the vibe tonight. It’s funny, though—feels like a devil’s been watching me all night. I guess I’m just not in the mood for the attention.” Her gaze lingered on him, amusement dancing in her eyes.

Mason couldn’t help but smile at her playful comment. “Well, I promise not to be too devilish. How about I get you another drink first? Maybe something strong enough to fend off any lingering devils.” He gestured towards the drinks table, his tone light and inviting. “Then, if you’re up for it, we can get out of here for a bit. A walk might be just what we both need.”

Her eyes brightened at the offer, and she gave him a warm, grateful smile. “That sounds perfect. I’d love a drink. Thanks.” She glanced towards the drinks table, then back at him, curiosity evident as she awaited his return.

Mason nodded and headed to the drinks table, grabbing two shot glasses filled with vodka. He returned to her, offering one of the shots with a smile. “Here you go,” he said. “A little liquid courage before we head out.”

She accepted the glass and, with a playful glint in her eye, raised it in a toast. “To escaping the chaos,” she said, her voice light but sincere.

Mason clinked his glass against hers. “To a change of scenery,” he replied, and they both took their shots simultaneously.

Without missing a beat, she tilted the glass to her lips and downed the liquor in one swift motion. The strong, burning sensation seemed to clear her head, and she let out a small, satisfied breath as she set the empty glass down.

“Much better,” she said with a hint of relief in her voice.

Mason followed suit, feeling the warmth of the vodka spread through him. “Glad you think so. Ready for that walk?” he asked, gesturing toward the door.

As they stepped out of the mansion into the cool night air, Mason noticed her shivering slightly, her costume offering little protection against the chill. Without hesitation, he removed his jacket and held it out to her.

“Here,” he said, his voice warm against the night. “You look like you could use this.”

She looked at the jacket, then up at him with a grateful smile. “Thank you,” she said softly, accepting the garment. She slipped it around her shoulders with a sigh of relief. The jacket, slightly too big for her, enveloped her in its warmth, the fabric soft and comforting against the evening’s cold.

With the jacket now draped over her, they began to walk down the empty streets. The dim street lights cast long, eerie shadows on the wet pavement, and the quiet was a stark contrast to the noisy party they had left behind. The crisp night air felt refreshing, and the occasional rustle of leaves underfoot added a gentle rhythm to their steps. The transition from the raucous indoor atmosphere to the serene garden path was a welcome change, and the soft crunch of leaves beneath their feet provided a soothing backdrop to their conversation as they walked side by side.

The rain began almost immediately, starting as a gentle drizzle that caressed their skin and soon growing into a steady shower. Mason glanced over at her, intrigued by how she seemed to blend effortlessly with the night, moving with a fluid grace as if the rain and deserted streets were part of her natural element. Her presence felt both refreshing and enigmatic. The steady shower created a quiet cocoon around them, offering a brief respite from his struggles.

Mason looked at her with a playful smile. “As much as I'd love to call you my angel,” he said with a chuckle, “I’d really like to know your real name.”

Her eyes sparkled with amusement, and she offered a warm, inviting smile. “It’s Y/N,” she replied.

“Well, Y/N,” Mason continued, trying to keep the conversation light, “what brings you to this part of town on Halloween?”

She paused, her gaze momentarily flicking to him before drifting away, as if searching for the right words. “My friend works for Man U,” she began, her voice soft and thoughtful. “She’s a PR assistant and dragged me along tonight because she thought it would be fun. I didn’t really want to come, but she insisted. Said it would be good for me to get out. Plus,” she added with a grin, gesturing to her costume, “it gave me an excuse to finally wear this. It’s been collecting dust in my closet for a while, waiting for the right occasion.”

Mason felt a flush of warmth mixed with a tinge of embarrassment at the mention of his new team, unsure if she had recognized him. “So,” he began, striving for a casual tone, “do you follow football at all, are you familiar with the team?” His curiosity got the better of him.

Her eyes sparkled as she met his gaze. “Oh, I definitely know who you are, Mason, if that’s what you’re asking,” she replied with a warm, teasing tone. “I recognized you and your friends the moment you walked in. My old friend was a huge fan of Chelsea—we used to watch your matches together all the time. I figured it was better to keep it cool around you, though.”

Mason chuckled, finding her candor refreshing. “And how’s that ‘cool’ act working out for you?” he asked with a teasing grin, feeling a rare sense of ease as their conversation flowed.

Y/N laughed, her laughter mingling with the rhythmic patter of the rain. “Not too badly, I’d say. Although,” she added with a playful smirk, “I must say it’s quite hard to stay cool when the devil is walking beside me.”

Mason smiled. “Well, I’d hate to think I’m ruining your ‘cool’ vibe,” he said, his tone playful. “But if it helps, I promise I’m actually pretty cool and down-to-earth once you get to know me.”

He glanced sideways at her, his expression softening. “Besides,” he added with a hint of sincerity, “it’s nice to have a break from the usual football talk. It’s refreshing to just be… well, me, for a change.”

They continued walking, the rain soaking through their clothes, but neither seemed to mind. The slick, soft leaves beneath their feet created a gentle, almost soothing sound as they moved. Aside from the steady rhythm of the rain, the only other sound was the rustling of foliage, adding to the serene atmosphere. Mason felt an unusual sense of tranquility, as if the weight of his worries had momentarily lifted. He glanced at Y/N, growing more intrigued by her presence by the minute.

“Well, since you know what I do,” Mason said with a grin, “it’s only fair you share what you’re up to.”

Y/N continued with a hint of excitement. “I’ve been freelancing in PR, primarily for healthcare and sports clinics lately. I’m also currently studying for my Master’s in Marketing, focusing on how to build and enhance brand identities. This visit to Manchester is, well, a chance to rediscover the city and see if it could be the right place for me. I’m hoping to find a role where I can blend my PR skills with marketing work.”

Mason’s gaze lingered on her, clearly impressed. “So, pretty and smart.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile forming on her lips. “How often do you use that line?”

“Only when I’m talking to pretty and smart girls,” Mason replied with a playful grin.

Mason’s curiosity about Y/N’s ambitions grew. “Do you think you’d want to work in football, like your friend, eventually?” he asked, genuinely interested.

Y/N considered the question for a moment, her eyes catching the soft glow of the streetlights. “I hadn’t really thought about it seriously,” she admitted. “I’ve always had a passion for sports, and working in sports PR does sound intriguing. However, I’m more focused on helping organizations craft their public image in impactful ways. Still, if a compelling opportunity in sports came along, I wouldn’t completely rule it out.”

Mason nodded thoughtfully, taking in her words. “It sounds like you’re open to possibilities, which is a great mindset to have. Sometimes, the best opportunities come from unexpected places. Plus, having a passion for what you do makes all the difference.”

Y/N smiled, her expression thoughtful and appreciative. “Thanks, Mason. I guess we’ll see where my journey takes me. For now, I’m enjoying the chance to explore Manchester and see what the future holds. And, who knows? Maybe one day, I’ll find myself working on campaigns for someone like you.”

Mason threw his head back in laughter, the sound genuine and warm. “I’d be lucky to have someone as talented as you working on my brand,” he said with a grin.

He paused, his expression turning serious but sincere. “You know, if you’re really considering a move up North, I could put in a good word for you. I know people in Manchester, a little nudge from someone in the industry might be just what you need.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, touched by the offer. “That’s incredibly kind of you, Mason. I really appreciate it.”

Mason gave her a reassuring smile. “Of course. Sometimes, a bit of support can make all the difference.”

They walked in companionable silence, the steady rhythm of the rain creating a soothing backdrop. Y/N eventually slowed her pace, her gaze shifting as she took in her surroundings, her expression thoughtful. After a moment, she pointed to a small, unassuming brick house a little further down the street. “I grew up there,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. “I haven’t been back in years.”

Mason glanced at the house. It stood quietly, the darkness of the night making its features almost indistinguishable. The windows were dark and empty, and the front yard, strewn with fallen leaves. Despite its wear, there was a subtle warmth to it, a sense of memories lingering in the chilly night air.

Mason noticed the wistful look on Y/N’s face and felt a surge of empathy. “Do you want to stop for a bit? Maybe stand by the porch before the new owners notice?” he asked gently, his tone reflecting his understanding of the significance of the moment.

She nodded, her eyes lingering on the house as if trying to piece together fragments of her past. They paused on the sidewalk, the rain continuing to fall softly around them. Mason stood beside her, offering her the space to take in the familiar yet distant sight, allowing the moment to be hers.

Y/N led him to the front steps, then took a seat on the pavement, patting the space beside her in a silent invitation. Mason, understanding her unspoken offer, settled down next to her. They sat together in the rain, the steady downpour creating a private, intimate cocoon around them. The coolness of the night contrasted with the warmth of their shared presence, as they both took solace in the quiet moment.

Mason noticed a handprint in the cement of the stairs leading to the door beside where he was sitting, weathered and faded with time. Y/N spotted it at the same moment and leaned forward to trace it with her fingers, her touch light and contemplative. As she moved closer, their proximity became more apparent, and she suddenly seemed aware of the compromising position they were in. With a soft, almost shy smile, she pulled back slightly, her cheeks flushing from both the rain and the closeness they had unexpectedly shared.

“This is where I used to live until I went off to university,” she said quietly, her voice nearly drowned out by the rain. “My parents moved back to their home country a few years ago and sold the house. I haven’t been back since. This place holds so many memories.”

She hesitated, grappling with the vulnerability of their newfound closeness. “Remember the old friend I mentioned, the one who used to watch your games with me?” Mason nodded. “He was my ex,” she continued, her voice wavering. “He was—still is—a huge Chelsea fan. We spent so much time here during high school. We were young, I thought we’d be together forever but at a certain point it became obvious it wouldn’t work out between us. We stayed in that relationship far too long, but It’s strange, really. I’m over him but being here, I guess it brings back all these memories. It’s odd to see how much has changed.”

Y/N looked down, her expression clouded with a mix of nostalgia and sadness. “Coming back here makes me realize how much has shifted in my life. It’s like I’m caught between who I thought I’d become and where I actually am. I was so full of dreams back then, but now it feels like things are less figured out than I’d hoped. It’s a reminder of how much can change, and how you can end up somewhere you never expected, I guess.”

Mason listened intently, his own sense of vulnerability rising to the surface. The rain mingled with his thoughts as he took a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions. “I get that,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “I’ve been dealing with similar feelings, sort of. My injuries and missed games have left me feeling adrift, as if my dreams and reality are worlds apart. I envisioned this triumphant return, a chance to prove myself and silence the critics. But with every setback, that vision seems to slip further away. It’s like I’m stuck between who I was and who I want to become, and finding that balance has been incredibly challenging.”

He paused, searching for the right words. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever get back to where I was or if I need to chart a new path altogether. It’s hard to come to terms with feeling disconnected from what once defined you.”

Y/N looked at him with a warm, encouraging smile. “You know,” she said softly, before settling her hand on his knee, “it’s really admirable how you’re facing all of this. I believe in you and I’m confident that your comeback will be amazing. I suppose that sometimes, we have to go through these tough times before we can truly appreciate the good times.”

Mason’s lips curled into a half-smile, comforted by her words. Her eyes were filled with genuine sincerity as she continued, “Even if things seem out of reach right now, remember there are people who believe in you and are rooting for your success.”

He paused, letting her words settle in. “Thank you, Y/N,” he said sincerely. “Hearing that means more than I can say, especially right now. It’s so easy to get lost in setbacks and forget why I’m here.”

He glanced around at the rain-soaked streets, then turned his gaze back to her. “Coming back to familiar places can bring up old memories, but it also offers a chance to see how far we’ve come. It’s like reconnecting with the past while looking forward to the future.”

Y/N chuckled, raising an eyebrow playfully. “Quite the philosopher are you?” she teased, letting his words resonate.

Mason gave her a playful smirk. “And quite the conversationalist yourself. Do you normally open up so much to someone you’ve just met, or is it the rain that’s making us more candid than usual?”

Y/N glanced up, a gentle blush rising to her cheeks as she looked away, nervously adjusting the hem of his damp jacket. “I don’t usually open up like this, especially to someone I’ve just met,” she admitted, her voice soft. “I suppose the drinks have loosened my tongue quite a bit more than I intended.”

Mason’s gaze softened, and he smiled warmly. “Don’t be shy. I find it quite endearing,” he said gently.

She met his gaze, her eyes reflecting a mix of apology and vulnerability. “I guess tonight’s been a bit more revealing than I planned,” she said, her voice tinged with a hint of embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to unload all of this on you.”

Mason’s smile was warm and understanding as he responded with a gentle chuckle. “It’s okay,” he reassured her. “Sometimes, talking to someone you don’t know well— yet,” he added carefully— “can make it easier to share. And as much as I’ve enjoyed hearing about your past… if you end up spending more time here and need someone to help you make new memories in Manchester—or just to distract you from the old ones—I’m around.”

Y/N’s laughter was soft, her blush deepening but her demeanor relaxing as she looked at him with newfound ease. Her hand slipped into Mason’s, her fingers cold against his skin, but the touch was reassuring, grounding them both.

“Come on,” she said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “It’s getting late. Would you walk me back to my friend’s flat?”

Mason smiled warmly and nodded. “Absolutely.”

Before they stood up, Y/N leaned in close, her breath warm against Mason’s ear. “And hey,” she whispered with a playful tone, “I promise you a kiss as soon as we get there.”

Mason’s heart skipped a beat at her words, and he chuckled softly. “I’m looking forward to it,” he replied, squeezing her hand gently as they rose to their feet.

As they wandered through the quiet, rain-soaked streets, Mason found himself increasingly captivated by Y/N. Her lightheartedness and playful energy were a welcome change from the weight of his recent struggles. Despite her costume clinging damply to her frame, she seemed utterly carefree, her spirit untainted by the rain. Mason laughed more freely than he had in weeks, their conversation flowing effortlessly.

Suddenly, Y/N let go of his hand and darted ahead, twirling around with a joyous grin. Her laughter echoed through the empty streets, and Mason felt a warmth spread through him. Her exuberance was contagious, lifting him out of his own concerns.

“Hurry up, slowpoke!” she called over her shoulder, her voice vibrant with challenge.

Mason quickened his pace, his grin widening. “Why should I hurry?” he teased.

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Because if you don’t, I might just have to reconsider that kiss I promised.”

Determined not to miss out, Mason quickened his pace, closing the distance between them. As he reached Y/N, he wrapped his arms around her waist, his hands resting lightly against the small of her back and pulling her close. He buried his face in her damp hair for a moment, breathing in her scent, feeling the warmth of her body even through the soaked fabric.

As they stood there, Mason looked down at Y/N with a contented smile. His arms still encircled her waist, holding her close despite the chill of the rain. He took a deep breath, savoring the closeness and the warmth she radiated. “You know,” he said softly, his voice carrying a blend of amusement and affection, “I know you promised me a kiss when we got there, but this moment feels pretty perfect too.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with a mix of surprise and delight. “Oh, really?” she teased, her lips curling into a playful smile.

Mason nodded, his gaze steady and earnest. “Yeah, I think this moment is as good as any other.”

Before she could reply, Mason gently tilted her chin up with a tender touch. His fingers lingered for a moment, brushing against her skin with warmth and reverence. Their eyes locked, and for a suspended instant, the world seemed to pause. The steady rain created a soft, rhythmic backdrop that blurred their surroundings, making their shared space feel intimate and isolated.

Mason leaned in slowly, his breath mingling with hers as the distance between them closed. The cool droplets of rain kissed their faces, but it was the warmth of their connection that captured their full attention. When their lips finally met, the kiss was tender and deliberate, a gentle exploration that deepened as they became more attuned to each other. It was both soothing and electrifying, a beautiful contrast to the chill of the rain that clung to their clothes.

Y/N looked up at Mason, her smile still glowing from their shared kiss. “Let’s keep walking,” she said softly, slipping her hand back into his.

Mason nodded with a warm smile. “Okay,” he replied, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

As they continued their stroll toward the flat, Y/N glanced over at Mason, a playful smile on her lips. “Tonight’s been quite the adventure,” she said, her tone light and cheerful.

Mason chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with genuine amusement. “I know what you mean.”

As they arrive to the flat, their eyes exchanged more than words ever could, conveying a silent understanding and connection that spoke volumes.

“Before we part ways,” Mason said with a playful glint in his eye, pulling out his phone and opening the contacts app, “I’d like to make sure I can stay in touch with my favourite angel.”

He typed “Angel I Met on Halloween” into the contact name field with a coy smile and handed the phone to Y/N. Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she took it from him, her smile widening.

“Alright,” she replied, her tone warm as she began typing her number into the phone. Her fingers moved gracefully across the screen, and she glanced up at him with a mix of curiosity and enjoyment.

Once she finished, she handed the phone back to Mason, who gave her a satisfied nod. “Perfect,” he said, saving the contact. “I wanted to make sure I could keep you updated on how my injury recovery is going,” he added with a hint of playfulness.

Y/N smiled softly. “Sounds good to me.”

“And if you’re up for it,” Mason continued with a shy smile, “maybe I could even arrange a spot for you in a box when I’m back on the pitch.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up. “That sounds like a plan.”

Mason nodded, his smile broadening. “Great. I’ll be sure to reach out.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it.”

As Y/N turned toward the flat, Mason gently touched her arm, his expression a mix of anticipation and coyness.

“You know,” he said, his voice light and teasing, “you did promise me a kiss as soon as we got here, remember?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. “Well, aren’t you the greedy one?” she teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Mason’s grin widened, his gaze sincere. “I think it’s only fair,” he replied, his tone warm.

With a soft laugh, Y/N leaned in, her eyes meeting his with a playful glint. Their lips brushed in a brief but sweet kiss, leaving a lingering warmth. She pulled back, her smile soft and genuine.

“There you go,” she said, her voice filled with affectionate playfulness. “Until next time, Devil.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Mason called softly as she turned to head inside.

“Goodnight, Mason,” she replied over her shoulder, her voice carrying a hint of warmth.

Mason watched her enter the flat, his heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks.

◌ ◌ ◌

‧₊ *:･ﾟ彡 ◌ ☽︎ ◌

◌ ✩彡･ﾟ *:

◌ ◌

Please give me your thoughts and request any ideas you have because I loveeee to write based on a concept!!!! :")

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