#echoing spirits 〈⋄〉 dash game.

[parulite]

repost and rate your muse's traits out of 10 in each category !

COMPASSION: 9/10. Driven by a deep desire to alleviate others' suffering (when she isn't too wrapped up in her own head), Kiri chose the path and rites of a healer. Right now she mostly deals in physical ailments, but she hopes to build the skills of spiritual aid too.

BITTERNESS: 6/10. There's a general sense that she's carrying a lot of confusion and discontent. She feels estranged from her peers and even her family, and doesn't understand why she is just so different. Why it had to be her.

HAPPINESS: 4/10. Really going through it™ with the awkward teenage years, made much much worse by the re-arrival of the RDA and the destruction of so much of her home. She lost two dear friends; the shaman of songs who lived deep in the forest was killed by the inferno of the arriving ships, and in the months that followed the first ikran Kiri was bonded with was shot and killed by a SpecOps soldier (& that's really only the beginning...)

POLITENESS: 5/10. Generally knows her place and respects tradition and those with more experience than her, but isn't afraid to give a little lip and form her own opinions. Occasionally prone to nyeh nyeh nyeh and sticking her tongue out. Currently going through a little bit of a "everyone in my family is so embarassing" phase.

MORALITY: like... 8/10? I don't know. She has a set of beliefs she lives by and holds to them. But .. as things are changing around her, choices are getting harder, and she's pushed at these lines in the name of protecting and defending her loved ones. As well, I have.. a thought about that some of that... being able to hear and feel Eywa is driving her to make choices she would have shied from just a year ago. Which begs the questions of if they're her morals, or something else. Which sounds very scary to me.

PRIDE: 7/10. Working on lowish personal self esteem/ego, but has high value on her home, her family, her clan, her planet. Does not take kindly at all to insults and shaming; does not take these things silently, either. She will at least try to stand up for herself, but she's twice as active when standing up for/with others (especially her family. Especially Neteyam.)

HONESTY: 8/10. A little sneaking away here, a little keeps-things-to-herself there, but mostly honest about her choices. She aims to be reliable and trustworthy, someone people can come to, and in general just doesn't like to lie. Leaves a bad taste in the mouth.

BRAVERY: 5/10. There will be much worrying, and grumbling, and hesitance. Will notably step up much more directly when it comes to defending others, especially her siblings and, presumably, other/younger children. Otherwise, she'd much rather make peace and/or flee than fight.

RECKLESSNESS: 4/10. Fairly sensible on her own, a little absent minded sometimes but not particularly prone to risk taking. Also susceptible to following others (i.e. Lo'ak and Spider) into nonsense out of a reluctance to miss out, but it almost works out because then she can act as a voice of reason those situations and at least slow them down a little.

AMBITION: 3/10. Genuinely just wants to live a 'normal' life, a quiet life she feels she belongs to, in harmony with nature.

LOYALTY: 8/10. Bends her personal values for the sake of others.

LOVE: 6/10. Deeply emotional, but afraid to commit to it. She withholds herself a lot, often hiding behind a vague leave-me-alone attitude (that she, of course, secretly and silently wants people to ignore, and see her through it anyway. But only if they're going to really love her. You know how it is.)

SENSE OF FAMILY: 7/10. Very connected to her parents and siblings and loves them dearly. Also feels ostracized, being 'technically an orphan', and every now and then is afraid that she is not quite as much of her parents child as her siblings are, like there is somehow a difference between them and her that means she doesn't really count.

ATTRACTIVENESS: I...... Don't want to use a number in this instance? She doesn't strike me as having a high opinion of her own looks, but I don't think it's necessarily a point of focus for her. I do think, though, she's got a lot of features that could be considered more human-influenced, such as her four fingers and smaller nose, defined brows, and smaller canines. This probably effects others' opinions of her beauty, but I doubt (at least among her own clan) as much as she thinks it does.

AGILITY: 9/10. Mostly she likes to take her time and tends to sort of ...drift around, but when pressured or excited, she's light on her feet and difficult to catch. Notably, she's an incredibly quick climber, and excels at moving over both the forest floor and higher pathways among the branches. She's still learning & building her skillset but I imagine she's showing signs of this in the water, too.

[reginrokkr]

Tag dump repost #1

◟༺✦༻◞ when twilight mirrors the passages of time ┊queue.┊

◟༺✦༻◞ glimpses in the past of a shattered spirit ┊headcanon.┊

◟༺✦༻◞ events to be remembered in blue veins ┊addendum.┊

◟༺✦༻◞ fragments of light from the roots of truth ┊reference.┊

◟༺✦༻◞ what use has the veil of falsehood? ┊ask.┊

◟༺✦༻◞ sapphire flames in their wake ┊ic.┊

◟༺✦༻◞ lament of a fallen seraph ┊thread.┊

◟༺✦༻◞ searching for a long lost fate ┊meme.┊

◟༺✦༻◞ what lays behind the mantle of faux stars ┊ooc.┊

◟༺✦༻◞ fear not the long night if malice is to fade ┊musings.┊

◟༺✦༻◞ ethereal moon dust sunken in ripples of light ┊reflection.┊

◟༺✦༻◞ moon on the sky as a trembling heart ┊aesthetic.┊

◟༺✦༻◞ requiem of the echoing depths ┊music.┊

◟༺✦༻◞ crystalline traces splattered with stardust ┊open.┊

◟༺✦༻◞ analysis within the ley lines ichor ┊study.┊

◟༺✦༻◞ chaos is hardly different to poison ┊dash comment.┊

◟༺✦༻◞ shall fair divination be imparted ┊dash game.┊

◟༺✦༻◞ trust not the gods; nor overthrow them ┊psa.┊

◟༺✦༻◞ connections of an ancient twilight sword ┊promotions.┊

◟༺✦༻◞ forgo that which is cursed by the gods ┊self promo.┊

◟༺✦༻◞ gifts to prevail into eternity ┊keepsake.┊

◟༺✦༻◞ echoes of a fallen star ┊drabble.┊

◟༺✦༻◞ nascent dreams of fading twilight ┊wishlist.┊

[twilightichor]

Tag dump repost #1

◟༺✧༻◞ memories are all but forgotten in the river of time ┊queue.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ glimpses in the past of a shattered spirit ┊headcanon.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ events to be remembered in blue veins ┊addendum.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ fragments of light from the roots of truth ┊reference.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ what use has the veil of falsehood? ┊ask.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ sapphire flames in their wake ┊ic.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ lament of a fallen seraph ┊thread.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ searching for a long lost fate ┊meme.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ what lays behind the mantle of faux stars ┊ooc.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ fear not the long night if malice is to fade ┊musings.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ ethereal moon dust sunken in ripples of light ┊reflection.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ moon on the sky as a trembling heart ┊aesthetic.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ requiem of the echoing depths ┊music.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ crystalline traces splattered with stardust ┊open.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ analysis within the ley lines ichor ┊study.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ chaos is hardly different to poison ┊dash comment.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ shall fair divination be imparted ┊dash game.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ trust not the gods; nor overthrow them ┊psa.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ connections of an ancient twilight sword ┊promotions.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ forgo that which is cursed by the gods ┊self promo.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ gifts to prevail into eternity ┊keepsake.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ echoes of a fallen star ┊drabble.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ nascent dreams of fading twilight ┊wishlist.┊

[sadnymi]

「 ✦ Slytherin Boys' Reaction to Another Boy asking you to the yule ball : ✦ 」

[Mattheo Riddle / theodore Nott / lorenzo berkshire]

Mattheo Riddle :

Mattheo had been waiting for the right moment to ask you to the Yule Ball, rehearsing his words and planning the perfect approach. However, his plans were dashed when he heard that someone else had beaten him to it. Frustration and possessiveness surged through him, but he decided to take a mischievous yet playful approach to address the situation.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Mattheo orchestrated a playful kidnapping of the boy who had asked you to the Yule Ball before him. Confronting the boy, Mattheo made his feelings clear.

"So, I hear you've asked her to the Yule Ball. A bold move, I'll give you that," Mattheo started, his voice carrying a warning tone. "But let me make something very clear to you. She's not yours to take. She's mine. You've stepped into a game you don't understand, and trust me, you don't want to be on the losing side."

The boy, startled by the sudden turn of events, stammered out an explanation, but his gaze remained firm.

he spotted you across the ballroom, and with a contrite expression, he approached you, a single red rose in his hand.

"I'm sorry. I should have asked you to the ball first. You deserve better than the way I handled things," he admitted, his eyes filled with regret.

You smiled softly, accepting the rose. "If you had asked me first, I wouldn't have said yes to him."

His determination shone through as he promised, "I will make it up to you, baby. I promise."

Dancing under the shimmering lights, the tension between you melted away as you talked and laughed, reconnecting in a way that felt natural and comforting.

Stepping out onto the balcony for a breath of fresh air, Mattheo gazed into your eyes. "The moon is so beautiful tonight," you remarked, your eyes fixed on the sky.

"Yeah, very beautiful," Mattheo whispered, his gaze shifting from the moon to you. Unable to resist any longer, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a gentle, soft kiss under the moonlit sky—a kiss you had been waiting for, a moment of clarity and realization of mutual feelings that had been brewing for years.

theodore Nott ;

Theodore Nott's dark smirk intensified as he processed the news, his competitive spirit igniting a fire within him. He wasted no time and confronted the boy who dared to ask you to the Yule Ball, his aura exuding authority and a hint of danger.

"I hear you've extended an invitation to her for the Yule Ball. Interesting choice," Theodore began, his voice carrying a veiled threat. "But let's get something straight. She's not just any girl you can whisk away for a night. She's special, and she's mine to protect."

The boy, trying to defend himself, replied, "That’s for her to decide. I just thought she might want to go with me."

Theodore's eyes flashed with warning, his patience wearing thin. "Think again. You're treading on dangerous ground. If you know what's good for you, you'll rescind that invitation before things get messy."

The next day, when Theodore discovered that the boy hadn't complied, he took matters into his own hands. He arranged for the boy to have an unexpected "vacation" under Madam Pomfrey's care in the hospital wing, ensuring he wouldn't be attending the Yule Ball.

Approaching you at the ball with a sheepish smile, Theodore revealed, "He's not coming, love."

Confused, you asked, "What—why?"

"I made sure he won't be able to walk for a week," Theodore admitted, his tone apologetic. "I owe you an apology. I should have been the one to ask you to the ball first."

Surprised by his confession, you started to speak, but he gently cut you off. "No, I was just nervous to ask you."

"You—nervous?" you echoed in disbelief.

"Imagine that? Yeah, me too. I'm still trying to figure out what you have done to me, love," Theodore admitted, a genuine smile breaking through his earlier intensity.

Later that night, as you found a quiet corner of the ballroom, Theodore took your hand, apologizing again. Without hesitation, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss, his emotions laid bare in the passionate embrace.

Lorenzo berkshire :

Lorenzo watched from afar as the boy approached you, asking you to the Yule Ball. His jaw clenched as he felt a surge of jealousy and possessiveness. Determined to make his feelings known, he waited for the right moment to act.

During a Quidditch match, Lorenzo saw an opportunity. As the boy flew past, Lorenzo angled his broomstick just right, causing a collision that sent the boy tumbling. Everyone else thought it was an accident, but you knew better.

That night, Lorenzo sought you out, his expression dark with intensity. "You say yes to any other boy, and God help me for what I will do," he said, his eyes locked onto yours.

You smiled softly, meeting his gaze. "If you had asked me, I would have never said yes to him from the start, Enzo."

On the day of the ball, Lorenzo didn't leave your side, his hands possessively on your waist as you danced. "Call down, Enzo," you said gently, trying to soothe his intense emotions.

"I can't, not when I can't get the face of that stupid boy asking you first out of my mind. I'm sorry," Lorenzo admitted, his voice filled with regret.

You continued dancing, trying to distract him. As the music swirled around you, Lorenzo suddenly pulled you towards a secluded area, his hunger and desire evident in his eyes. Pressed against a tree, he kissed you passionately, his emotions overflowing.

You gently reminded him that you were there with him and no one else, calming him down from his intense emotions from time to time throughout the night.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

[bitchiswild]

On The Court

GP Huh Yunjin x F! Reader

Warnings: Smut, Exhibitionism, Creampie, and others things probs 🤷‍♀️

Word Count: 1.5k

A/n: Sorry if it’s bad 💃🏼 but enjoYyY

╔═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════╗

"Got the hang of it now?" Yunjin inquired, leaning against the fence surrounding her private tennis court. She had just finished an extensive session. As the girlfriend of a well-respected champion, she was teaching you what you needed to know when it comes to tennis.

"Yeah, I think I've got it. Let's try a game, shall we?" I replied, eager to challenge my skills and elevate them to the next level. I got into position, ready for the ball to come right at me.

"Love!" Yunjin's voice echoed across the court, a playful twinkle in her eye as she tossed the tennis ball into the air. With graceful precision, she brought her racket down, sending the ball gliding over the net, its trajectory aimed squarely at my side of the court.

As the ball landed within my court, I ensured it bounced once before my swing. "Keep it inside the lines," I coached myself, recalling every rule and fundamentals Yunjin had taught me. Mindful to avoid the net, I prepared to strike. With precise timing and just the right force, I sent the ball soaring over the net, a blend of power and control behind my shot. It zoomed past Yunjin after a single bounce on her side, earning me 15 points.

Excitement bubbled up within me,Yes!" I yelled out in sheer glee. "Ha! In your fucking face!" My triumphant outburst echoed across the court, a mix of elation and competitive spirit driving my words.

"Pretty good, babe," Yunjin said, initially shocked, but the surprise quickly faded, replaced by a smirk.

"Game on."

As the game went back and forth, the scores kept climbing until we reached this critical moment where every point mattered. The tension thickened around Yunjin and I as the final round loomed, signaled by the ball tossed into the air. I focused hard, determined to win. I wanted to prove a point—to show Yunjin that Y/n L/n did indeed grasp tennis, despite just learning it.

I was convinced I could pull off a win. Crushing Yunjin's ego seemed like a golden opportunity, and I was totally up for grabbing it.

Surveying her position at the far-right corner of the court, I seized the chance to smash the ball towards her opposite side. The ball raced across the court at a blistering pace, catching Yunjin off guard. She dashed toward the ball on the other side, attempting to keep up, but by the time she reached it, it was too late for her to make a hit.

A surge of realization flooded my face as I witnessed the ball whiz past Yunjin. I had won the game—yes, I had actually won! My body erupted with excitement, and I couldn't contain myself. "Yes! Hell fucking yeah! In your face! Did you see that, Jen!? "I beat you!" I exclaimed in pure triumph, relishing the victorious moment.

Yunjin's faint smile revealed a hit to her usually unshakable ego. It was clear that losing had hit her hard, especially since she's usually the one who dominates in tennis. "Congrats, babe," she conceded gracefully. "That was a good game."

I rushed up to her, unable to contain my excitement about the win. "Did you see that? The ball just sailed past you! Oh my goodness, that was too good! I wish we had cameras for a slow-motion replay!"

"Alright, Y/n, we got it, you won," Yunjin said, her tone beginning to carry a hint of irritation.

I pouted teasingly at her. "Aww, is Yunny Hunny Bunny’s ego feeling a little busted because she lost to her girlfriend?"

“It is not. My ego is fine.” She huffed,trying to maintain her composure.

"Hmm, sure, whatever you say... my little loser," I teased, a playful smirk on my face.

“Can you please stop calling me a loser? I get it already” She said looking even more annoyed.

"Is Jennifer Huh mad now?" I exclaimed, feigning shock with a playful grin.

“No… I'm not now, please shut up.” She said with an embarrassed, frustrated look on her face.

You leaned up to her ear and whispered “Make me.”

Once you leaned back you stared at her face. Lust clouded her eyes instantly. Immediately she grabbed your neck and pushed you over to the fence roughly. You stared at her, knees buckling, while she looked at you up and down knowing that you will always be on your knees for her. She leaned down to your ear and whispered “Look at you, always weak for me. Always willing to be on my knees sucking my cock like the slut you are.”

You started breathing heavily as she kissed down my neck. One hand on your neck while the other slowly itches down to your skirt. You lifted your head up to make room for her. Yunjin finally reached down to your covered pussy, rubbing it slightly. Tightening her grip on your neck. You held in a moan.

“I want to hear you scream while I fuck you senseless. Let the whole neighborhood hear you, got that baby?” She husked. Too turned on to utter a word Yunjin gripped my neck harder

“I said do you get it” She said once again .

“I will,” You whimpered.

“Good”

She spun you around roughly making sure you were facing the fence, pulling your skirt down to your legs, she started rubbing herself against you, making you even more wet. “Fuck, baby” she moans. You were holding on to the fence, looking back at her dry humping you. She then pulls her own skirt down to her legs whipping her cock out. You reached behind, and stroked her cock in your hands. Her hands slide along the outside of your thighs, then in between them, sliding against your slit. Fucking you with her fingers.

“Mmm fuck Jen.” You moaned out.

She coated her fingers with your juices, sucking them clean. Her cock slid through your dripping pussy. “Please no teasing” You whined.

She chuckled, gripping your hips tightly “Anything for you baby.” She then pushed her entire length into your pussy. “Fuck baby, you’re so fucking tight every single time” She moaned out and started to thrust hard and deeply inside you.

“Oh my fucking god” You screamed.

“Yes that's it baby, scream for me. Scream so the whole neighborhood can hear how good I fuck you. How I can reach deep inside you and fuck you so hard, so you can feel me for days.” She husked. Thrusting into you hard, making your body and the fence move with each thrust.

“You feel so good, I'm so close.” You moaned out loudly.

“No. Hold it. Don't you dare cum yet” She said, slowing down her thrust .

“Please, Jen..” You whimpered.

Her hand goes back up to your neck and slightly grips it. “Who’s pussy is this?” Her thrust is still agonizingly slow making me ache to cum. “Yours! Fuck! It's Yours!” You whined tears threatening to run down your face.

“Please let me cum!” You cry out.

Yunjin smirked “That's my girl,” Her thrust quickens once again making you moan out loudly as you get closer to the edge. Yunjin felt your walls flutter around her, she knew you were very close to the edge. Her other hand reached over to your front to rub your clit. That is all it took to send you over the edge.

“Shit Jen I'm cumming,” You screamed out.

She kept up her thrusts “ That's it baby cum for me. Cum all over my cock, soak it.”

Euphoria washes over your body as you came. Gripping tightly onto the fence so you don’t fall down. Yunjin is still thrusting into you as you came over-stimulating your whole body. “Please no more,” You told her weakly.

Coming back to my senses she now pulled out of you and spun you around, you weakly faced her after being overstimulated. She rests her forehead against mine, breathing heavily, gripping one of my thighs and lifting it.

“One more baby I know you can do one more,” she says to you.

The head of her cock enters you again then her whole length causing both of you to moan. Her thrust starts slow then slowly increases. “Fuck baby I love you” She moans out. You felt her cock twitch inside you signaling that she is cumming soon.

“I love you too, I’m almost there” You moaned.

You bounced on her cock while she thrust in you. Our moans getting louder. You clenched around her cock as you came hard, making your whole body shake with pleasure. Yunjin's thrust quickens but it gets harder to thrust since your pussy is like a vice around her cock. Her hips stilled as she cums. Her warm thick cum fills your pussy and you moan at the feeling.

Holding on to each other as your highs came down, breathing heavily. Yunjin pulled out, making you moan now feeling empty. Her cum starts leaking out of you. She reaches down to swipe it up and shoving back inside your pussy. You moan at the contact.

She leans down to my ear “Just so you know baby, I let you win” she grins pulling up her skirt and walking back to the court, she turns around and stares at you while you were still leaning against the fence, catching your breath. “Now get dressed, we are playing another game.” she smirks.

╚═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════╝

[bitchy-craft]

Your Future Spouse In A Theme Park | Pick A Pile

Hello and welcome to this Pick A Pile! In here you'll find out how your future spouse will act when going to a theme park with you. I hope you guys enjoy and find this useful. Do make sure to leave comments down below on your experience! I do want to remind you all that this is a General Pick A Pile which means this is for a lot of people; therefore keep what resonates and leave what doesn't.

Note: I wrote this in a different way I normally do to try out (more of a story-telling way), I hope you guys like it. Also my friend helped me use pretty words since my first language isn't english😭💕

Masterlist > Questions > Paid Readings

Pick A Pile!

Pile 1:

Amid the whirlwind of excitement at the theme park, your future spouse would be known to everyone around them as the embodiment of thrill-seeking adventure. Ther eyes will sparkle with a contagious enthusiasm as they’ll gaze at the towering roller coasters and the intimidating drop towers that loomed against the sky, wondering how they’re going to persuade you onto going on all possible rides with them.

With a grin that radiates daring anticipation, they’ll turn to you and suggest, "Let's start with the biggest ride here, what do you say? Roller coasters and drop towers, the works!"

But their adventurous spirit doesn’t stop at just ride choices. As they’ll embark on each adrenaline-pumping attraction, they’ll playfully initiate a challenge, a friendly competition to determine who could weather the scariest rides with the least outward fear; you or them.

Yet, amidst the heart-pounding screams and exhilarating loops, their protective nature will shine through. Your future spouse will make sure to hold your hand tightly during every twist and turn, offering words of reassurance that turn the excitement into a shared experience of joy and laughter.

Ever the planner, they will make sure to get a Fast Pass to optimize their ride count or meticulously charting out the day's ride schedule to ensure they make the most of every minute. And just to add a dash of surprise to the day, they showcase their skills at one of the game booths, winning their partner a stuffed animal that brings an infectious smile to their face.

Pile 2:

Wlking hand in hand through the bustling theme park, your future spouse's demeanor exudes thoughtfulness and a deep care for your experience. They regard the map with a careful consideration, then turn to you with a soft and genuinely curious smile gracing their lips.

"What sort of ride are you in the mood for first?" they ask you, their tone resonating with a desire to make you feel genuinely comfortable.

A characteristic of them on this day would be their unwavering patience. In line for each attraction, they engage with you in conversations that weave the passage of time into a tapestry of easy camaraderie.

During breaks, they will surprise you with a well-prepared picnic, complete with their favorite snacks, as they nestle into a shaded oasis. On the rides, their attentive gaze is focused on all your reactions, ensuring they feel secure and are enjoying every moment of going on this date with you.

And when after a couple of hours it’s made clear you get a bit tired, they’ll suggest escaping the crowds by finding quieter places within the park where they can rest, recharge, and savor the ambiance in tranquil togetherness.

Pile 3:

Laughter and meriment seems to follow your future spouse wherever they go in the theme park. With a twinkle in their eye, they’ll challenge you to a series of games and competitions, transforming even the most mundane activities into uproarious affairs.

Near the entrance, they’ll initiate a lively game of mini-golf, where their spirited laughter echoes in the air. But their playful nature extends beyond games – they transform the queue lines into playful battlegrounds, inventing silly challenges and engaging in spiritef banter that turns the waiting time into an exciting prelude.

As they encounter interactive rides, their eagerness for friendly rivalry is evident. Your future spouse will eagerly suggest rides that pit them against you and them, whether it's a competitive shooter ride or a teamwork-based adventure.

Water rides hold a special appeal to them, and their mischievous grin is infectious as they propose taking on the rapids and splashes. Amidst the giddy screams, they embrace the wetness and turn it into an opportunity for shared amusement.

Throughout the day, their laughter and light-hearted approach ensure that your moments together will be saturated with joy, regardless of the activity. Each experience is painted with a hue of playful competition, adding a layer of vibrant colour to their theme park escapade.

[pinchofhoney]

perfectly flawed

benedict bridgerton x princess!reader

word count: 2.7k

warning: hurt without comfort, it might be suggestive but there's nothing inappropriate about it (friends with benefits but without any details)

summary: Finding love as a princess comes with its challenges, but becoming a mistress was never part of the plan.

a/n: two things; one, over these few months i forgot what it's like to write something that isn't an academic paper. two, in the process of writing it i forgot that i was supposed to write it based on a song. i suppose i'm already a different person than i was just the week ago when i asked you for your opinion, but regardless, feel welcome to read this,, thing<33

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers

London, 18th April 1814

Dearest Readers,

The Season has barely begun, yet the glittering ballrooms of London are already abuzz with whispers and speculation. The cause of this fervour? None other than the captivating niece of Her Majesty. The fairy-like young lady, whose arrival in London coincided with the Season’s beginning, has ignited a flurry of theories.

Is she a princess, a countess, or perhaps a secret agent on a mission? The whispers echo through the salons, each speculation more imaginative than the last. Her regal bearing and the way she holds her fan hint at noble lineage, but her eyes hold secrets that defy easy classification. Could she be a pawn in a political game, or does her purpose lie closer to matters of the heart? Suitors line up, eager to claim her hand, but our debutante remains an unknown figure, casting doubt upon the intentions behind her smile.

Gentlemen of distinction have flocked to her side, vying for her attention. Lord Pembroke, the dashing heir to a vast estate, has been seen trailing her like a devoted puppy. The Duke of Ashford, brooding and aloof, has deigned to engage her in conversation. And then there is Captain Sinclair, whose sea-green eyes promise both danger and adventure.

At Lady Featherington's soirée, our young lady engaged in spirited conversation with none other than Miss Eloise Bridgerton. Their conversation delved into matters of politics—a most unconventional choice. Is our French princess a revolutionary sympathizer, or does she simply relish the thrill of intellectual sparring?

Rest assured, dear readers, that Lady Whistledown shall be your faithful guide through the twists and turns of this unfolding narrative. Prepare your fans and polish your silver spoons, for the London Season has just begun, and in the shadow of the Queen's niece, our world is poised to be turned upside down. Society must brace itself for a whirlwind of speculation, as we stand on the brink of a most intriguing chapter.

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown

‎

At the very core of the French Empire, you were raised as the epitome of grace and subtlety. With royal blood coursing through your veins, you were groomed to be the perfect lady, the jewel of the imperial court. Every step you took, every word you said, was a careful composition, painting the portrait of an eminent lineage.

From a young age, you were taught the art of etiquette, your days filled with lessons on poise, embroidery, and the subtle language of the fan. Your attire, always impeccable, was the evidence of your status and breeding. The world perceived you as the embodiment of perfection, a delicate blossom requiring protection from the harsh realities beyond the palace walls.

Yet, behind the facade of the devoted princess, a secreted truth blossomed. Beneath the tangled layers of silk and lace, your spirit, unyielding and untamed, stood in defiance of the expectations of courtly life. The allure of royal grandeur held little sway over you, and the burden of societal obligations felt like a daily donning of a suffocating corset.

The shimmering balls and elaborate rituals became stifling, making your heart to ache for those fleeting moments of genuine connection, uncontrolled laughter, and a subtle taste of the forbidden. Although French suitors eagerly fought for your attention and the allure of your family's wealth, your soul yearned for a partner who would daringly challenge the scripted norms, infusing romance with a breath of spontaneous authenticity.

And thus, to address your reluctance to accept the prearranged path, your mother came up with a plan. Sending you to the splendour of London under the watchful eye of the Queen, your beloved aunt, she hoped this change of scenery would guide you towards a dutiful marriage, in line with the expectations befitting your royal lineage. What slipped out of her seemingly perfect idea, however, was the playful nature of fate, particularly when guided by those who avoid predictability. So, your journey to the bustling heart of British metropolis grew with an outcome greatly different from your mother's expectations.

Your aunt, holding the most esteemed position in the United Kingdom, was admired for her wisdom and understanding. But the hours of lessons imparted to you from an early age, combined with your ability to conceal your rebellious nature from the public eye, had transformed you into a pretty great actress. And your performance, crafted over the years, was so convincing that even someone as sharp as the Queen herself failed to see through the carefully constructed act.

But perhaps, this time, you've got too close to the edge, because in the blink of an eye, you found yourself entangled in a situation that, if exposed, would not only scandalize all of England but also cast a shadow over France, where your family hopefully awaited news of your impending marriage.

And how did it all start?

The beginning of your tale remains in the memories of that fateful debutante ball, where a single innocent look changed the course of your luck. It was a brief moment, a shared exchange of glimpse between you and Benedict Bridgerton, that seemed to stretch time itself. In the glimmer of that ballroom, his bright eyes locked onto yours from across the room, and the world around you seemed to slow, as if giving space for something beyond a mere glance.

You had no idea what captivated you about the man who didn't really stand out among the other attendees, but most likely it was this quiet strength of his gaze. The gaze without the typical fascination you'd grown used to as a princess of the French Empire or the usual envy that flickered in the eyes of those desperate to secure a partner who determined their life's worth. Benedict's gaze was just different. It held no trace of the thought that you were merely a silly princess with a title. It carried the feeling that you were a masterpiece, a creation worthy of admiration. And it stirred a yearning within you, an insatiable thirst for freedom and authenticity that your heart had craved for so long.

A brief exchange of words with Benedict at the ball opened your eyes, making you believe that not every man who sought your company was doing so only for your family's wealth. As you danced together, his touch ignited a spark, a fleeting moment of intimacy that lingered long after the music faded into the night, and each stolen glance exchanged across the crowded ballroom carried the weight of unspoken desires. It felt as though the connection that binds soulmates was about to disappear when your paths crossed, signalling that you had, finally, found one another.

And so, it began. A secret affair that grew under the cloak of darkness, far from the prying eyes of nosy socialites waiting to catch a glimpse of scandal. In the hidden corners of London, where shadows whispered secrets and the night sky painted a canvas of stars, you found comfort in the arms of Benedict, a man not necessarily burdened by the weight of societal expectations, yet bound by his own hesitation to commit to anything beyond the present moment.

As the inappropriate meetings became routine, you assumed the role of a mistress, a position you never imagined yourself in, and the only rule you committed to follow during your secret dates was the lack of romantic feelings. Yet, despite your best efforts to maintain a facade of emotional distance, your heart had a way of defying logic. With each stolen moment spent in Benedict's company, you found yourself drawn deeper into the labyrinth of emotions, a labyrinth fraught with longing and desire. What started as a simple agreement, devoid of romantic sentiments, soon evolved into something far more sincere.

And it genuinely scared you.

You walked nervously around the place of your every rendezvous with Benedict, your fingers nervously picking the cuticles near your nail—a gesture unsuitable for the lady you were expected to be. But in the fuss of events that have happened in London so far, such a thing seemed a minor violation. Not only did the task of slipping unnoticed from the royal palace grew increasingly difficult, but the relentless fluttering in your heart at the mere thought of Bridgerton haunted your sleepless nights.

Throughout your life, you had yearned for a love different from the one you had observed in French society. And now, when the opportunity to live your fairy tale presented itself, reality proved to be just an unrequited feeling. While you were happy to see Benedict and yearned for his presence, it seemed he may only crave your body, not the depths of your soul.

You wanted today's meeting to be the last one, a meeting where nothing would happen. Or so you convinced yourself. The purpose was clear: to say goodbye to Benedict and to draw the curtain on a relationship built on fleeting glances and secret meetings. And even though probably the best choice would have been to just stop showing up on these encounters and withdrawing from public spaces where you might cross paths, you didn't want to just pretend that nothing had ever happened between you two. The social season was still around you, and avoiding the consequences of your actions would only complicate everything. Maybe not for Benedict, but for you, for sure.

And then, the silence broken every second by your anxious heartbeat was completely shattered by the sound of footsteps. Turning, you were met with the sight of Benedict Bridgerton approaching with firm strides, and his presence seemed to overshadow your plans to say goodbye when, for a moment, the world seemed to pause as you lost yourself in the intensity of his gaze.

Without a word, he wrapped his arms around your waist, and his touch sent pleasant shivers down your spine. The warmth of his embrace, coupled with the subtle brush of his breath against your skin, stirred conflicting emotions within you. Your heart quickened its pace, betraying the reason you came for this final meeting.

“I've been thinking about you all day,” Benedict whispered, and his breath caressed your delicate skin. But as much as the desire for intimacy flickered within, you held steadfast to the resolution you had set for this meeting.

With a gentle pull, you extricated yourself from his embrace, creating a safe distance between the two of you. The tingling sensation stayed on your skin, as a remaining echo of his touch that resonated through every fibre of your being. “We need to talk,” you said, your voice steadier than your racing heart. Benedict's eyes, once filled with a yearning, now searched yours for an answer to an as yet unspoken question.

“Talk?” he asked, his voice laced with a hint of playful intrigue as he arched one of his eyebrows with his signature smile dancing upon his lips. “About what?” he pressed, and with an air of casual confidence, he crossed his arms over his chest as he ambled a few steps to the side. “You're not going to tell me you've fallen in love, are you, princess?”

A nervous laugh bubbled up from within, escaping between your lips before you could hold it back. In an attempt to mirror Benedict's movements, you crossed your arms over your chest, your head shaking with feigned amusement. “Fall in love?” you repeated his words, adopting a tone of playful dismissal. “Don't be ridiculous, of course not,” you declared, adding a scoff at the end, as if to fortify the illusion of light-hearted banter. Hoping to shield your true feelings, now concealed beneath a facade of amusement, you met Benedict's gaze with a look of mock disbelief.

“We should end this relationship,” the words spilled from your lips, hoping your voice wouldn't betray how fast your heart was beating at that moment. “I did not come to London to become just another woman in the arms of the Viscount's son. If my mother were to find out, she'd blame herself for raising me poorly, and that's not the truth,” you began to rationalize, your words flowing as an attempt to justify the decision you had set before both of you. “I have obligations to fulfil, a path to follow, and I won't achieve that by sleeping with you.”

Benedict watched you in silence, not knowing if you were serious. His gaze bore into you, seeking answers within the depths of your eyes.

“Now you're the one being ridiculous,” he retorted, his tone carrying a gentle scolding. Leaning against a nearby counter, he looked at you with a combination of disbelief. “Since when have you cared so deeply about living up to your mother's expectations?”

“I've come to understand that my mother wants what she believes is best for me. As a princess of the French Empire, there are certain expectations I must meet, whether I appreciate them or not,” you said, closing the physical distance between yourself and Benedict. Self-control was what kept your hands from reaching out as you stopped just in front of him. “Think about what would happen if our secret were to be exposed. It would be the end for both of us, and the scandal would echo across the entire continent. The Queen herself would likely seek our demise.” You emphasized your words by pointing a finger at yourself. “I cannot ruin the honour of the entire royal family for a fleeting moment of pleasure.”

Benedict met your gaze with a silent acknowledgment of the truth in your words, yet beneath the veneer of understanding, a flicker of defiance danced in his eyes. “So, what are you saying? You're suddenly prepared to sacrifice your entire life for the expectations of your family that would see you married and bearing children with some man who would likely make you miserable?” he asked, a trace of frustration evident in his voice.

A moment of silence ensued as you fixed your gaze on Benedict. Finally, a disbelieving scoff escaped your lips, and you shook your head. Taking a few steps away, you placed your hands on your hips, a gesture mirroring the internal conflict within you. “Perhaps you haven't noticed yet, Benedict, but I am a woman. And in a world dictated by the whims of men, the role assigned to women is often reduced to that of an obedient wife, tasked with bringing some affluent man's heir into the world. It's not about what I want; it's about what everyone else around me expects.”

As Benedict made a move to step closer, a surge of urgency propelled you to speak before he could interject. “I should be going now. The palace servants are growing increasingly suspicious.”

Despite the assertiveness in your tone, Benedict, keen to the nuances of unspoken emotions, closed the physical gap between you, and his touch went through the delicate fabric of your glove as he gently took your hand. “We can at least end this in a better way,” he suggested, his voice tinged with a suggestive undertone as he met your gaze.

A resolute “No” escaped your lips, infused with an overt firmness born out of the fear that another moment in his gaze might make you give in to your heart's desires. You couldn't afford the risk of surrendering to the tempting pull of his lips once again, the very lips you yearned for. “That's all I wanted to tell you today,” you continued, gently squeezing his hand as if to punctuate your resolve. Purposefully avoiding his gaze, you added, “It's over, but know that every meeting with you has been a pleasure, Mr. Bridgerton. Goodbye.” Articulated so, you withdrew your hand from Benedict's grasp, leaving only the delicate glove in his hold.

With a swift spin, you turned away and your hurried footsteps carrying you out into the rain-soaked streets of London. A quick glance confirmed the absence of prying eyes, making you hasten your pace, putting distance between yourself and the building that housed your shattered heart. As you took each step, the words exchanged at that moment of parting reverberated in your mind. The relation between you and Benedict had ignited sparks of passion and left a sweet ache of longing. Now, the path ahead led you towards the marriage your family desired, a hopeful step to fill the void left by thoughts of Bridgerton.

[knoepfl]

A Killer Night

Masterlist

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he started, his voice slightly wavering. “I need to tell you something.” He hesitated, his heart racing. He knew this was a big step, and he wasn’t sure how she’d react.

It was a typical Friday night at Stu Macher's house, the kind of night that felt electric with anticipation. The soft flicker of the TV cast shadows on the walls adorned with horror film posters, setting the perfect backdrop for a night filled with thrills. He lounged on the couch, nervously fiddling with a prop knife as he watched his girlfriend. She was beautiful, with her bright eyes and infectious smile, and he felt a mixture of excitement and anxiety bubbling within him.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked, tilting her head, a hint of curiosity in her eyes.

“I—uh,” he stumbled over his words. “I’m Ghostface.” He forced the words out, his heart pounding in his chest. “And I’m a killer.”

Her expression shifted, surprise flickering across her face. She blinked, absorbing his words, and for a moment, silence filled the air. Stu held his breath, his stomach knotting with uncertainty.

“Wait, are you serious?” she finally asked, her tone a mix of disbelief and intrigue.

“Yeah, I mean, not like, for real,” he clarified quickly, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just a game, but I like to play it a little darker. I thought you’d think it was fun.”

She paused, processing his confession. “You’re joking, right? Like, this is some kind of prank?”

“No, I’m not joking,” he replied, the weight of the moment heavy between them. “I’m not gonna hurt you, Sweetheart. It’s all just pretend… but I wanted to share this side of me with you.”

She looked away for a moment, biting her lip as she considered his words. “This is… intense, Stu. You really want to do this?”

“I do,” he admitted, his voice softer now, revealing a vulnerability beneath his bravado. “I love this part of myself, and I want you to understand it. I want you to be a part of it.”

Slowly, a smile crept onto her face. “You know what? This is kind of hot.”

Stu’s heart raced as he processed her reaction. “You’re not scared?”

“Not scared,” she said, her confidence returning. “Intrigued, maybe. I mean, it’s wild, and you know I love a little chaos.”

The tension melted away, replaced by a thrill of excitement. “So, what do you say we play a little game?” he asked, an impish grin returning to his face.

“Okay, I’m in,” she replied, her eyes sparkling. “What’s the plan, Killer?”

Stu’s grin widened as he picked up a prop knife, twirling it in his hand. “Let’s play cat and mouse. You run, and I’ll chase you.”

With a teasing look, she shot back, “And what if I get away?”

“Then I’ll have to track you down. But don’t think it’ll be easy,” he warned, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And if I catch you…” He trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“Alright, then. You better keep up, Ghostface,” she challenged, her competitive spirit igniting as she dashed away, laughter echoing down the hallway.

He lunged after her, adrenaline surging through him. The thrill of the chase sent shivers down his spine, and he relished the feeling of her playful defiance. As she darted through the house, he followed, his heart racing with excitement.

“Can’t catch me!” she called over her shoulder, her voice teasing and light.

“Just wait, Sweetheart!” he shouted back, determined to close the gap.

She disappeared around a corner, and he rounded it, only to find an empty room. Where did she go? A rush of exhilaration flooded through him as he began to search, a playful grin spreading across his face.

“Okay, where are you hiding?” he called out, feigning frustration. “This isn’t fair!”

He checked the bathroom, the kitchen, and every nook and cranny he could think of, but she was nowhere to be found. The house felt eerily quiet, the thrill of the hunt pulsing in the air.

Suddenly, he heard a soft giggle from the living room. His eyes lit up, and he darted toward the sound, only to find her hiding behind the couch, barely able to contain her laughter.

“Gotcha!” he declared, reaching down to pull her from her hiding spot.

“Okay, okay! You found me!” she laughed, but her eyes gleamed with mischief. “But I think you’ve forgotten something…”

“What’s that?” he asked, confused.

“This is hide and seek, right?” She pushed him back with surprising strength, catching him off guard. He stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock and amusement as she darted away again.

“Hey!” he laughed, trying to regain his footing. “You can’t just do that!”

“Watch me!” she shouted, her laughter ringing through the house as she sprinted away again, and he felt a rush of determination wash over him. This time, he wouldn’t let her slip away.

As he chased her through the house, he felt a thrill of exhilaration at their game, a mix of danger and delight. She ducked into the kitchen, and he followed her, catching a glimpse of her just as she slipped behind the island.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he teased, using his best creepy voice, trying to mimic Ghostface.

She peered out from behind the counter, a playful smirk on her lips. “You’ll never find me, Killer.”

“Oh, is that a challenge?” He took a step closer, deliberately moving to the side to lure her out. “I love a good challenge.”

Just then, she darted out from behind the counter, and he lunged for her, arms outstretched. He missed, but the rush only fueled his desire to catch her. She giggled, the sound light and airy, filling the space with warmth.

As he turned to chase her, he couldn’t help but admire the way she moved—quick, agile, and full of life. They danced around each other, weaving through the kitchen and living room, laughter echoing off the walls as the night deepened.

Finally, he cornered her again in the hallway, pressing her back against the wall, his breath coming fast from the exertion. “Gotcha,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

She looked up at him, her heart racing, a mix of excitement and something deeper shimmering in her eyes. “Okay, okay! You win this round,” she gasped, breathless.

“But you didn’t count on one thing, did you?” he murmured, leaning closer, his lips brushing against hers teasingly. “I always get my prize.”

With that, he captured her lips in a passionate kiss, the taste of excitement and danger mingling between them. The world outside faded away, leaving only the heat of the moment and the thrill of their shared game.

Dollface responded eagerly, wrapping her arms around his neck and deepening the kiss. The warmth of their bodies pressed together ignited a fire between them, sending shivers down their spines.

He pulled away slightly, looking into her eyes. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“And you’re a total weirdo,” she teased, a soft smile on her lips. “But I love it.”

“Yeah? You love this?” he asked, playfully tracing his finger along her jawline. “What else do you love, Sweetheart?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” she purred, biting her lip seductively. “Maybe the thrill of the chase? Or how you always manage to keep me guessing?”

“Maybe I’ll keep you guessing all night,” he replied, his voice low and seductive, the air around them thick with tension.

He captured her again, their lips crashing together, a fierce hunger fueling the kiss. As their passion intensified, he pulled her closer, their bodies molding together as they fell deeper into the moment.

They stumbled back, and he pressed her against the wall, the thrill of danger electrifying the air. The night was filled with chaos, laughter, and the undeniable chemistry that crackled between them. They were two misfits in a world that didn’t understand them, finding comfort in their madness and chaos.

As the passion between Stu and his girlfriend escalated, the playful energy in the room shifted to something deeper and more primal. The thrill of their chase left them both breathless, and the air crackled with tension that begged to be released.

Stu pressed her back against the wall, his lips hovering inches from hers. “You’re so beautiful when you’re wild,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. The flickering light from the TV danced over their bodies, creating an intimate atmosphere that felt alive with possibility.

She looked up at him, eyes sparkling with mischief. “And you’re pretty damn sexy when you’re chasing me down, Ghostface,” she teased, her breath warm against his lips.

Without breaking eye contact, he leaned in and captured her mouth again, his kiss deepening with urgency. The world around them faded away as their kisses grew more passionate, filled with the heat of their shared excitement. He explored the softness of her lips with a hunger that sent shivers down his spine.

Their bodies pressed together, and he could feel her heart racing against his chest. He slipped his hands around her waist, fingers digging into her skin as he pulled her closer, wanting to feel every inch of her against him. Her warmth enveloped him, igniting a fire that consumed them both.

“Let’s take this somewhere more comfortable,” he suggested between kisses, his breath hot against her skin. She nodded, and together they moved toward the couch, laughter mixing with the charged atmosphere as they stumbled through the dimly lit living room.

Once they reached the couch, Stu sank into the plush cushions, pulling her down with him. He positioned her on top of him, her legs straddling his hips. Their eyes locked, and the playful smile on her face turned into something more sultry as she ground against him, her body igniting a primal need within him.

“Look at you, so eager,” he teased, his hands gripping her waist. “What’s a killer supposed to do when his prey gets so bold?”

She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. “You know exactly what to do,” she whispered, her voice dripping with seduction. “Catch me if you can.”

With that, she began to move against him, her hips rolling in a tantalizing rhythm that made his breath hitch. Stu felt his desire surge, the heat pooling in his core as he reveled in her movements. He captured her face with both hands, tilting her head to meet his gaze. “You’re going to make me lose my mind, you know that?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she replied, biting her lip as she ground against him again, teasing him mercilessly.

Unable to hold back any longer, he flipped them over, pinning her down on the couch. “I’m in control now,” he growled, his voice low and commanding. The thrill of dominance shot through him as he took charge, his body pressing against hers, the weight of him both comforting and exhilarating.

She laughed softly, a mix of excitement and challenge in her eyes. “Oh really? Is that how this works, Killer?”

“Yeah, that’s how this works,” he replied, leaning down to nip at her neck, trailing kisses along her collarbone, feeling her shiver beneath him. The taste of her skin drove him wild, and he reveled in the way she responded to his every touch.

“God, you’re so good at this,” she gasped, arching her back as he explored her body, his hands gliding over her curves. He reveled in the warmth of her skin, the way she writhed beneath him, completely lost in the moment.

He captured her lips again, kissing her deeply as his hands roamed lower, brushing against her thighs, teasing the hem of her shirt. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, pulling away just enough to meet her gaze, his eyes dark with desire.

“No! Don’t you dare stop,” she replied breathlessly, her urgency making his heart race.

With a wicked grin, he pulled her shirt off, exposing her soft skin to his hungry gaze. He trailed kisses down her body, savoring the taste of her, reveling in the sounds she made as he moved lower. Her fingers tangled in his hair, urging him on, and he felt a surge of confidence as he worshipped every inch of her.

“Stu, please,” she whimpered, her voice laced with need. The sound sent a bolt of electricity through him, pushing him to go further, to tease and please her until she was a moaning mess beneath him.

He kissed his way back up, trailing his tongue over her skin, taking his time as he lavished attention on her. “You’re so perfect,” he murmured against her chest, his breath hot and heavy. “I want to make you feel so good.”

“Then do it,” she urged, her voice a sultry whisper that ignited the fire within him.

In one swift movement, he slid his hands beneath her, lifting her to him as he pulled her close, capturing her lips again in a fierce kiss. The heat between them was palpable, their bodies moving together in a rhythm that felt both primal and euphoric.

He felt her pulse quicken, her breaths coming in soft gasps as he brought her closer to the edge. “I’m not going to let you go, Sweetheart,” he promised, his voice low and filled with intent.

Their bodies intertwined, moving together in a frenzy of heat and passion. Each kiss, each caress, was a dance of dominance and submission, a beautiful chaos that left them both breathless. She was his wild card, and he was her Ghostface—two souls wrapped up in a night of dangerous delights.

As the tension built between them, Stu felt her body respond to his every touch, her moans growing louder as they danced on the edge of ecstasy. He held her close, the world outside fading into oblivion as they surrendered to the intoxicating thrill of their desires.

“Stu, I’m so close,” she gasped, her body arching against him, seeking more of his touch.

“Let go, Sweetheart,” he urged, his voice thick with desire. “I’ve got you.”

With a final surge of energy, they both spiraled into bliss, their bodies crashing together in a wave of pleasure that left them breathless. The world around them disappeared, and for that moment, nothing else mattered.

As they lay entwined on the couch, the afterglow of their passion settling around them like a warm blanket, Stu brushed a stray hair from her face, gazing down at her with a soft smile. “You really are something else, you know that?”

She smiled back, her cheeks flushed with satisfaction. “And you’re my favorite killer.”

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around her as they nestled into the couch together, their laughter mixing with the fading light of the TV. They had created their own little world, one filled with danger, chaos, and an undeniable connection that left them both craving more. The night was still young, and they were just getting started.

[estapa-edwards]

pookie saw you were taking requests and that plus your amazing work had my brain working,, I loved your grumpy fic,, and as self-proclaimed menace to society, I would love to see Connor with a full on chaotic dramatic mess of a person,, very orange cat coded 🙈🙈😋

CHAOTIC - C. BEDARD

paring: Connor Bedard x reader

word count: 875

requested? yes

warnings: use of y/n.

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

Y/n has a larger-than-life personality reminiscent of an orange tabby cat, with a penchant for drama that could rival Broadway's finest. Their life is a constant whirlwind of spontaneous adventures, dramatic outbursts, and laughter that echoes through the halls. Y/N is the kind of person who can turn the most mundane moments into unforgettable memories, leaving a trail of chaos and joy in their wake.

Then there's Connor, the epitome of calm in the storm, whose presence exudes a quiet strength and determination. As a rising star in the world of hockey, his days are filled with rigorous training sessions, media obligations, and the pressure of living up to lofty expectations. Yet, amidst the chaos of his professional life, Y/N is his anchor, a source of light and laughter that brings balance to his world.

----

Armed with a recipe they found online, Connor and Y/N eagerly embark on a culinary adventure, determined to whip up a romantic dinner together. Their differing personalities complement each other perfectly, turning the kitchen chaos into a delightful symphony of laughter and love.

“How much salt did the recipe say to add?” Y/N asks, stirring a pot on the stove with a flourish of dramatic flair.

“It says just a pinch, but I think you might have gone a bit overboard there,” Connor replies with a gentle smile, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to Y/N's animated gestures.

“Oops. Well, they do say cooking is all about experimentation, right?” Y/N laughs, their vibrant energy filling the room with warmth.

As Connor watches Y/N taste the sauce, he can't help but admire their zest for life. "I hope it's not too salty," he says, his voice steady and reassuring.

Y/N's face lights up with excitement. "Hmm, it's definitely... bold," they say, their eyes sparkling with mischief. "Maybe a sprinkle of paprika will give it that extra kick?"

Connor nods, impressed by Y/N's creativity. He reaches for the spice rack and adds a dash of paprika to the sauce, marveling at how effortlessly they transform the ordinary into the extraordinary.

As they continue to cook, Connor marvels at the way Y/N moves around the kitchen with grace and confidence, turning simple ingredients into a culinary masterpiece. Meanwhile, Y/N admires Connor's precision and attention to detail, grateful for his calming presence amidst the chaos.

Suddenly, Y/N accidentally knocks over a jar of olive oil, sending it crashing to the floor with a loud thud. They freeze, their eyes wide with shock.

Connor rushes to their side, his concern palpable. "Are you okay?"

Y/N bursts into laughter, their melodramatic reaction adding a touch of comedy to the situation. "I'm fine, just a little clumsy," they say, wiping away tears of mirth.

Connor joins in their laughter, relieved to see Y/N's spirits lifted. Together, they clean up the mess, their laughter echoing through the kitchen like music. 

--- --- --- 

Y/N arrives at the hockey arena, her excitement palpable as she bounces on the balls of her feet, a whirlwind of energy in the midst of a sea of fans. Her outfit is a riot of colors, a mishmash of patterns and textures that somehow come together in a chaotic symphony of style. She cheers loudly, her voice rising above the crowd as she waves a homemade sign emblazoned with Connor's name.

As the game begins, Y/N's enthusiasm knows no bounds. She jumps up and down, her hands flailing wildly in the air as she cheers on her beloved Connor with unwavering support. Her antics draw the attention of nearby spectators, who watch in amusement as she becomes increasingly animated with each play.

When Connor scores a goal, Y/N leaps out of her seat, cheering at the top of her lungs and showering the ice with confetti from a hidden stash in her bag. She dances in the aisles, oblivious to the stares of the other fans as she celebrates with reckless abandon.

But amidst the chaos of her celebration, disaster strikes in the form of an overenthusiastic high-five that sends her drink flying, drenching the unsuspecting fans seated in front of her. Y/N gasps in horror, her face flushing with embarrassment as she frantically apologizes and offers to buy them new drinks.

Despite the mishap, Y/N remains undeterred in her support for Connor, cheering him on with even greater fervor as the game progresses. She waves her homemade sign like a flag, her voice hoarse from shouting as she urges him onward to victory.

As the final buzzer sounds and the crowd erupts into cheers, Y/N rushes down to the edge of the rink, eager to congratulate Connor on his stellar performance. She wraps him in a tight embrace, her messy hair and smudged makeup a testament to the intensity of her support.

"Congratulations, Connor!" she exclaims, her eyes shining with pride. "You were amazing out there!"

Connor smiles, his heart full at the sight of Y/N's unbridled joy. He pulls her close, grateful for her unwavering support and the chaotic energy she brings into his life.

"Thanks, Y/N," he says, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "I couldn't have done it without you."

sorry its so late, ive haven't been up to writing recently! hope you enjoy!

[matcha3mochi]

gojo satoru x reader

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

“Catch me if you can, Satoru!” you shouted, your laughter ringing out like a bell as you darted away, the thrill of the chase igniting your spirit.

Gojo’s blue eyes sparkled with mischief as he sprinted after you, a wide grin spreading across his face. His body moved with a fluid grace, each stride long and confident, arms swinging rhythmically by his sides. You felt the rush of adrenaline course through you, your heart racing as you glanced back to see him gaining on you, his playful determination evident in the way he narrowed his gaze, a determined glint lighting up his features.

You glanced back, a competitive smile on your face, feeling the wind whip through your hair, carrying the scent of grass and adventure. The moment felt electric, the excitement of the chase igniting a fire within you. With a burst of energy, you dodged a swing, your footwork nimble and agile, and the carefree joy of the game radiated from your every movement.

As you dashed through the playground, Gojo’s laughter filled the air, an infectious sound that made you grin even wider. You could feel his presence behind you, the thrill of his pursuit fueling your speed. He was close enough that you could hear his breath, each exhale a mix of excitement and determination. His long legs covered the ground effortlessly, but you were determined not to let him catch you easily.

In a burst of energy, you stumbled to a halt, pretending to catch your breath. “You’re slow, Satoru! You’ll never catch me!” you called, giggling as you bent over, your hands resting on your knees, chest rising and falling with each breath.

He paused, panting, his expression a playful mixture of mock offense and determination. “Is that a challenge?”

With a sudden movement, he lunged forward, every muscle in his body working in harmony as he darted toward you, a look of pure joy and mischief in his eyes. You felt a thrill rush through you, and as he reached out, his fingers barely brushing against your shoulder, a surge of exhilaration shot through your body.

“Gotcha!” he declared, his voice a triumphant shout as he tagged you.

You squealed in surprise, your laughter echoing around you as you fell back onto the grass, breathless. The world melted away as you both collapsed, staring up at the sky painted in hues of orange and pink. The soft rustle of leaves and distant giggles of other children created a serene backdrop, and for a moment, everything felt perfect.

“Y/N,” Gojo started, turning his head to look at you, his expression softening. “Do you think we’ll always be friends?”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, a playful smile dancing on your lips. “Of course! We’ve been best friends since forever. Nothing could ever change that!”

His heart swelled with warmth at your words, yet a shadow of doubt flickered in his chest. “Yeah, forever,” he repeated, though the word felt heavy with unspoken feelings.

As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the grass, you both lay back in silence, watching the first stars twinkle into existence. The tranquility of the moment wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, but Gojo’s heart raced with the weight of unconfessed emotions.

“Hey, Satoru,” you said softly, breaking the stillness, “do you ever think about what we want to be when we grow up?”

He turned to face you, his heart racing. “All the time. I want to be strong, to protect the people I care about,” he said, his voice laced with sincerity.

You nodded, your expression thoughtful. “I want to help people too. Maybe as a teacher or a healer.”

Gojo’s heart soared at the thought of you making a difference in the world, yet a pang of longing hit him. “You’ll be amazing at whatever you choose,” he said, his gaze intense, wishing you could see the depth of his feelings.

“Thanks, Satoru,” you said, staring into his eyes for a moment, your heart fluttering at the intensity of his gaze. You then looked back up at the sky, chuckling softly. “And I believe you’ll do great things too, you’re destined for it!”

Your genuine smile lit up your face, and he felt a warmth spread through him, yet it was tinged with sadness. He wanted to tell you how he truly felt, how much you meant to him, but the words eluded him.

As the evening wore on, the playful banter continued, weaving through dreams and secrets, each laugh shared a treasure to be cherished. But with every passing moment, Gojo felt the weight of his hidden feelings pressing down on him, a bittersweet ache that wouldn’t relent.

Finally, as the sky darkened and the stars began to twinkle brightly above, you both decided to head home. As you walked side by side, the air was filled with an easy familiarity, yet Gojo felt an urgency rise within him.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice almost a whisper, “I really like spending time with you. You know that, right?”

You turned to him, your expression bright and completely unaware of the deeper meaning behind his words, laughter bubbling up as you said, “Of course! I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me!”

Gojo’s heart fluttered at your words, a mix of relief and affection washing over him. “Good,” he replied, managing a playful grin, though his gaze held a deeper intensity. “I wouldn’t want it any other way. Just promise me you’ll still want to hang out when we’re all grown up.”

You chuckled again, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “As if I could ever get tired of you, Satoru! You’re like my annoying brother.”

“Annoying?” he feigned offense, crossing his arms dramatically. “I prefer to think of myself as your charming protector.”

You rolled your eyes, still laughing. “Right! The charming protector who always loses at video games!”

He laughed, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hey, I’ll have you know that I’m just letting you win. It’s all part of my master plan to keep you around.”

Your laughter faded into a comfortable silence, the shared moment deepening as you both walk through the streets. The stars above began to twinkle, creating a beautiful tapestry. In that peaceful quiet, Gojo felt a surge of emotions he could no longer suppress.

“You know,” he began hesitantly, his tone shifting to something more serious, “I really mean it when I say I like spending time with you. You make everything better.”

He felt the familiar ache return, but this time, it was laced with hope. “Maybe… maybe one day, you’ll see me as more than just a friend.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, and he quickly added, “But for now, I’m just glad you’re here with me.”

You smiled, sensing the weight of his words, yet unaware of their full meaning. “Always, Satoru. Always.”

Gojo silently vowed to himself to find the courage to share his true feelings. For now, he would cherish the laughter and moments you shared, holding onto the hope that one day, you might see him in a different light.

[parulite]

What do You Need to be Comforted ?

— to be held

you need someone to wrap you up, squeezing together all the parts of you that feel broken. you crave being shielded away from the world, where no one can see you... no one can hurt you.

Where do You Carry Your Pain?

— your arms

you have tried to hold onto what is dear to you, only for it to be wrenched from your hands...

What Shatters You?

— betrayal

you are so tired of giving your trust away, only to have it thrown back in your face . . . your heart has been broken, again and again, by those you've mistakenly believed in. " perhaps this time will be different ", you say. my dear, it won't. your heart is too gullible for the cruel world around you.

[intplayboy]

WITCH'S REFUGE - ROYAL SOLDIERS! BTS OT7 X FEM WITCH! READER [ PROLOGUE ]

if you wish to be part of the tag list, complete the form.

summary: in an era where the royal family denounces all magic, as one of the few remaining witches, you hide your powers. though you try to lead a normal life, only the seven accepting men make you feel truly understood. yet, what destiny awaits when you must reveal your true identity?

genre: supernatural/magic au | medieval-modern fusion fantasy au | F2L (more like idiots to lovers, honestly) | moderate? angst | action | romance | fluff | hint of crack

pairing: royal soldiers bts ot7 x female witch reader (high royal commander!kim namjoon, high royal soldier!kim seokjin, high royal soldier!min yoongi, royal assassin!jung hoseok, royal assassin!park jimin, elite warrior!kim taehyung, elite warrior!jeon jungkook)

warnings: mentions of violence, blood, death, slight mentions of SA, disgusting misogyny, witchcraft, slight gore, and swearing.

permanent tag list: @taolucha, @exfolitae, @namjoonswaifu, @rinkud, @queenlouie18, @btsgangleader @m0v3m3ntsblog, @nicholedobre-blog, @bjoriis, @princess-sunshyn, @han-aaaaa, @ejspencer14, @skyys-universe, @thvslvt, @dustyinkpages, @savagemickey03, @aynbookworm, @loveforred, @jwonz, @ghostlyworld, @wagtte, @louisaqueen, @meepsters-world, @carolina-thiell, @svnbangtansworld, @deepestfacedevil

(the tags that are strikethrough could not be tagged)

drabble masterpost | masterlist | character boards | prologue | part 1 | part 2 [finale] | alternate ending

word count: 8,942

*note: the fictional language that will be spoken a lot throughout this story is called "Astrithian". it's mainly used among witches to converse without being understood to outsiders and to vocalize their magic. there will also be a lot of terminology used, which will be explained*

********

15 enchantas ago... (Derived from "Enchant" and "Era," Enchanta marks a single year. It reflects the enchantment and wonder that pervade the world, making each year unique.)

In the midst of the forest that bordered your humble abode, a thrilling spectacle unfolded. Giggles erupted from your seven-year-old self as you dash through the trees, your small feet carrying you swiftly across the woodland floor. Behind you, seven older companions pursued with a mixture of determination and amusement, transforming the surroundings into an endless playground.

Ten-year-old Jimin, one of your companions, couldn't help but grumble in his pursuit. "How is she so tiny, yet moves with such speed?"

A mischievous giggle escaped nine-year-old Jungkook. "Perhaps it's because you're too tiny yourself."

Jimin narrow his eyes at Jungkook. "Your humor lacks refinement."

"I beg to differ. It sounded rather amusing to me," thirteen-year-old Jin chimed in, joining the teasing banter.

"Fine. I wager two draconian ingots that none of you can catch her," Jimin challenged, ego slightly bruised.

(draconian ingots, crafted from rare golden mystical alloys associated with legendary dragons, symbolized wealth and power, reflecting the dragons' historical influence on the world.)

"Two draconian ingots?! Game on!" Jungkook shouts with enthusiasm. "Prepare to be caught, Y/N!"

The onlookers, including Jimin and the rest, watched in astonishment as little Jungkook accelerated on his nimble feet. "Wait—hey!"

"I don't know if you're generous or foolish for making such a bet with Jungkook," eleven-year-old Namjoon remarked, shaking his head with a chuckle.

A groan escapes Jimin as he laments his decision. "Don't remind me..."

Undeterred by the unforeseen turn of events, Taehyung seizes the opportunity, surging ahead in the pursuit of both victory and draconian ingots. "I'm with Jungkook! I want those draconian ingots! Here I come, Y/N!"

The forest echoes with the playful banter and the rustle of leaves as the pursuit continues, transforming a simple chase into a spirited competition fueled by the allure of mythical riches.

Twelve-year-old Yoongi, however, couldn't hide his weariness. "Must we turn a playful chase into a pursuit of bets and riches? I'm growing tired."

"What do you mean? It's always fun! I'm having a blast!" cheered Hoseok.

Jin, always the peacemaker, interjects with playful sarcasm. "You're perpetually tired, Yoongi. Don't use that excuse now."

"But do we really need to take it this far…" Yoongi grumbles.

"Hey, Y/N initially wanted to share something exciting with us. It somehow evolved into a spirited chase," observed Namjoon, thinking of you as a little rascal.

After a short span of a brisk run, you and your seven friends find yourselves at the unexpected marvel you had eagerly anticipated. Pausing to catch your breath, you turn around swiftly, ready to unveil the surprise to your companions.

As they gather around, you theatrically gesture towards it. "Behold! Is it not wondrous?!!"

As their eyes take in the scene before them, their expressions transform into sheer astonishment. "A concealed waterfall?!"

Grinning broadly at their reactions, you declare, "It is not merely a waterfall, my lords."

Confused gazes meet yours, urging you to elaborate. Your excitement bubbles over as you squeal, "It is a magical waterfall!"

"Mother and father informed me that by tossing in a single lunaris shilling, one's deepest desire can be granted," you share with delight. "And should you swim in its waters, every injury and ailment will be miraculously healed!"

(lunaris shillings are silver coins that embody the magic and mystery associated with the moon. they are prized for their magical properties and are often used in mystical transactions.)

A silence lingers as they absorb the revelation, still processing the words that spill from your lips regarding the hidden waterfall discovered in collaboration with your parents.

The more they remain silent, the more a sense of gloom starts to settle within you. Doubt begins to creep in, wondering if they share your enthusiasm or if they question the authenticity of your claims. Yet, you know it to be true – you've witnessed the magical properties of the water firsthand. Your mother's wish for an early harvest season, whispered as she tossed in a shilling, came to fruition three auroas sooner, a testament to the enchanted nature of the waterfall.

(auroa: unique term representing months, inspired by the word "aurora." it symbolizes the cycles of magic, similar to the changing colors of the northern lights.)

You recall the time your father succumbed to a severe respiratory illness, the burden fell upon you and your mother to transport his weakened body to the mystical waters. As you immersed him, a miraculous transformation unfolded before your eyes—the pallor of sickness dissipated, the shadows under his eyes vanished, and vitality surged back into his frail form.

"Well, I have a pair of lunaris shillings right now. Shall we have a go at it, then?" Hoseok approaches, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the silver coins.

The others, initially hesitant, soon follow Hoseok's lead, drawn by the allure of the magical cascade. "Yeah, let's all try it," they chorused, surrendering to the enchantment that lingered in the air.

"Besides, if witches live among us, who's to say magic is not to be real?" Hoseok grins at you, his warmth radiating in the face of uncertainty. Hoseok, with his innate sense of empathy, stood out among your companions, always ready to defend you and find positivity in every situation. He was the angel of your group, and you couldn't help but hope that this facet of his character transcended across all universes.

As you stood in line with Jimin, Jungkook, Taehyung, Hoseok, Namjoon, Seokjin, and Yoongi, the sparkling waterline glistened under the moonlight, drawing your attention to the tranquil body of water that connected to the majestic waterfall.

"What are you guys wishing for?" you ask with genuine curiosity, the anticipation of fulfilling desires shimmering in the air.

Hoseok gazes ahead pensively before releasing a soft sigh. "To become the finest royal guard in all the kingdom, and to bring honor to each of you," he declared, casting his single shilling into the waters with a determined flick of his wrist.

"You already bring us great pride, Hobi," you reassure him with a tender smile, warmth radiating from your words.

His lips curved into a grateful smile. "Thank you."

"Well, I wish to live long and healthy." Jimin says, throwing his own lunaris shillings.

Jungkook, ever the playful one, puffs up his chest with pride, drawing laughter from the group. "I wish to be the strongest in the kingdom so that I can save you anytime, my lady," he declares, a cheesy smile accompanying his theatrical gesture.

You chuckle at his charming display, reciprocating with a smile as he playfully toss his shillings into the water.

A mischievous glint dances in Taehyung's eyes as he steps forward, his wish spoken with a lighthearted jest. "My wish is to remain the most handsome boy in our kingdom!" His shilling follows suit, accompanied by a playful nudge from Jimin.

"You're already a vision, Taehyungie. Such a frivolous wish," Jimin jests, teasing his friend with a good-natured grin.

Taehyung feigns offense, his lips twisting into a mock pout. "Must one's desires be subject to scrutiny? Besides, Y/N herself claimed the water grants any desire. Who am I to resist such potential?"

Seokjin, a noble soul, spoke with a regal air, "I desire to amass wealth, second only to the royal family, to shower you all with opulence whenever the whim takes me." With a flourish, he tosses his lunaris shillings into the mystical depths.

"Ever the provider, Seokjin," Namjoon remarks with a warm smile directed at his older companion.

"Only for you guys," Seokjin replies with a twinkle in his eye.

Yoongi yawns. "Well, for me, I wish to have the best sleeps for all the years to come."

Hoseok rolls his eyes. "Ugh, come on Yoons, this is your one wish, and you're going with that?"

"Mhmm, deal with it," Yoongi concedes. "I wish for the highest standing in the royal court."

Hoseok, in mock surprise, teased, "Hmm, a throne for the sleepyhead. I wonder how that'll unfold."

Yoongi, unfazed, tosses his lunaris shillings into the water alongside the others.

"Now it's my turn... I wish to make a profound impact on our world, something that will resonate with the hearts of the people," Namjoon says, casting his lunaris shillings into the water.

A chorus of awed reactions follows, as Namjoon's words consistently embody honor and admiration from each of you.

"That's truly admirable, Joon," you express, admiration sparkling in your eyes as you smile at him.

Namjoon chuckles, encircling his arm around your shoulders, drawing you into a side hug. "And now, little one, what is your heart's desire?"

"Yeah, you're the last one, Y/N," Taehyung grins widely, the anticipation evident in the group, mirroring their eagerness to hear your wish.

You pause, caught in a moment of contemplation. A recollection surfaces in your mind, a distant echo of your mother's words cautioning you against casting a wish with a lunaris shillings. The water, a benevolent deity of desires, grants wishes to those who offer a solitary shilling, but for reasons never fully explained by your mother, you have always been denied this privilege. However, surrounded by the fervor of your companions' wishes, a yearning to make your own desire known begins to swell within you.

"I... I'm not sure. My mother always cautioned against it," you admit reluctantly.

A collective disbelief and confusion painted the faces of your friends. Namjoon's expression shifted, a slight frown forming on his features. "Why so, my lady?"

"Indeed, you've spoken of it yourself, and your mother too, that the waters grant any wish to those who offer a single lunaris shilling," Taehyung chimed in.

"That seems unjust, does it not? Why should everyone else revel in the joy of making a wish while you are barred?" Jimin pouts, hands resting on his hips.

You can only offer a helpless shrug, your own confusion matching theirs. Yet, before the moment can stretch further, Jungkook strides forward with determination. "Regardless, I believe you should still cast your wish."

"Wait, Jungkook, perhaps there exists a concealed rationale behind Y/N's mother's reluctance. Must we really question her discernment?" Seokjin, reasoned with an air of gentleness.

Jungkook, however, was not swayed. "Indeed, Seokjin, but if such were the case, why did she she impart knowledge of its enchanting powers of the waters to Y/N? It's utterly nonsensical and, dare I say, unjust."

With a firm resolve, Jungkook declared, "She merits the opportunity to express her desires, just as we have."

Seokjin, though still uncertain, mused, "Mhmm, I remain unconvinced, Jungkook. Namjoon, what say you?"

Namjoon pondered, his fingers thoughtfully scratching his chin. "You both make good points."

An expectant hush enveloped the room until Yoongi, the voice of nonchalance, broke the silence. "Well, we find ourselves here now, do we not? What's hindering you?" All eyes turned toward him, waiting for his next utterance.

"Her parents are absent, and only the eight of us bear witness to this clandestine affair. Should none of us breathe a word of tonight, her wish can remain a concealed mystery," Yoongi suggested with tone of indifference.

"So, at this juncture, what hindrance do you perceive?" he nonchalantly reiterated.

Hoseok, ever the optimist, chimed in, "He's not wrong, you know."

As Namjoon turned his gaze back to you. "Well, the decision is ultimately upon you, Y/N," he uttered, his eyes studying you intently.

You purse your lips, your mind racing with possibilities. This choice holds the power to shape your destiny, to alter the course of your life in ways both profound and unforeseen. Beside you, Yoongi's words echo faintly, a reminder of the absence that looms over you like a shadow. Your mother's influence, once a guiding force, now exists only in memory. Here, among friends who value your autonomy, you find the freedom to chart your own course.

With a determined grip, you nodded, the lunaris shilling clutched in your hand. "Very well, I shall make my wish."

The younger members of your group erupt in cheers, their excitement palpable in the air. Hoseok beams at you with infectious enthusiasm.

"And what shall be your wish, my dear lady?" He asks eagerly, his eyes alight with curiosity.

A smile graced your lips. "My wish is for all of us to remain together in happiness, perhaps for an eternity!"

Their smiles mirrored your own, appreciative of the simplicity yet profound sentiment behind your wish.

"What a splendid wish, my lady," Namjoon praised, his admiration evident. With that, you cast your lunaris shillings into the water—and in this moment, a sense of peace washes over you, filling the air with a quiet serenity, surrounded by those who cherish you, you feel truly alive.

As the moon cast its silvery glow upon the path, you and your seven companions strolled toward the cozy cottage that served as your haven. Laughter echoed in the night air as the camaraderie among you all painted a picture of joy and carefree revelry. However, the joyful ambiance quickly shifted when you glimpsed your mother anxiously waiting in the doorway, a deep furrow of concern etched upon her brow.

Oblivious to the impending unease, you hastened towards her, your heart brimming with excitement for the shared supper with your parents and friends. Yet, your mother's countenance betrayed a different sentiment.

"Y/N, where on Earth have you all been?" she exclaimed, her voice edged with worry.

Perplexity clouded your once radiant expression. "What do you mean, Mother? We were merely frolicking in the woods, as is our wont."

"Something has occurred; we must make ready to depart," she urged, grasping your shoulders with an urgency that sent shivers down your spine. Her gaze then shifted to the perplexed and apprehensive faces of your friends, who formed a line behind you.

"Is everything alright, Amahra?" Namjoon inquired with a hint of trepidation.

(Amahra is an endearing term used to address a woman who holds a nurturing and motherly role in someone's life. It is often used with great respect and affection, to acknowledge a maternal figure in the Astrithian language. The overall pronunciation would be similar to "ah-MAH-rah," with a slight rolling of the "r" if you're comfortable doing so.)

A rueful chuckle escaped her lips. "My dear Zarëln, I regret to inform you that you must return to your homes and families."

(In Astrithian, an endearing term used by elders or those in a nurturing role to affectionately address a younger person can be "Zarël," pronounced as "Zah-rehl." This term signifies a sense of protection and guidance, expressing a bond likened to that of a parent and child. To refer to more than one child, you would pluralize it as "Zarëln," pronounced as "Zah-reln.")

"It is urgent for all of us, and for all of you. My farewells must be swift, I'm afraid," she added.

"Mother, what troubles you?" you asked, a somber worry shading your features.

Kneeling down, she gently replied, "I shall explain later, my daughter." Turning to your seven friends, who remained rooted in confusion, she implored, "You all must go now!"

"Return home, my Zarëln, promptly!" she softly commanded, tears glistening in her eyes unbeknownst to you and your friends.

"We shall take our leave then," Namjoon declared, cutting through the bewildering silence. The decision was made for the group, yet the youngest, Jungkook, hesitated.

"But, Namjoon..." His gaze shifted between Namjoon, you and your mother, his reluctance evident as he grappled between concern for you and an unspoken fear lingering in the atmosphere.

"She has requested our departure twice already. Let us not compel her to utter it a third time. We leave now," Namjoon asserted, directing his gaze to Jungkook and the rest of the boys, his eyes emanating a commanding authority beyond his years.

Turning to face you and your mother, Namjoon offers a reassuring smile. "We'll see each other again, Y/N—remember," he says, his words carrying a promise that stirs something deep within you, reminiscent of the wish you made not long ago at the magical waters.

With a final nod, Namjoon led the boys away from your home. Each of them bid their farewells, waving at you with a mixture of solemnity and promise.

As the seven companions gradually disappeared from view, your mother ushered you inside the quaint cottage. She pulled you along by your wrist, and inside, you found your father in a state of hurried activity, stuffing various items into a sizable cloth pouch.

"Father... Why are you packing? What's happening? Mother won't tell me anything," you inquire, your innocence tinged with concern.

Your father halted his frenzied movements and fixed his gaze on you, his eyes holding a gentleness that momentarily softened the gravity of the situation. "I'm sorry, my little enchantress. But the times have changed now. You and your mother may be in danger, and we must flee from here to keep all of us safe."

"What...? Why, Father?" Your voice trembles with emotion, betraying the sadness that grips your heart at the news.

"Children!" The mothers of the seven boys exclaimed, their figures silhouetted against the dim lamplight of the late evening, their faces etched with concern as they awaited their sons coming from their Quadravicar.

(Quadravicar: its name, derived from the fusion of "Quadra" for four and "Vicar," symbolizes both its capacity and its role as a symbol of prestige and status in the kingdom.)

"Mother, what's the matter? It's unusual to find you all gathered like this upon our return from Y/N's," Jin remarked, his voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of apprehension as he and his friends approached their mothers.

"Where are our fathers? Is there some sort of gathering?" Jin inquired without pausing for an answer to his initial query. The mothers exchanged furtive glances, a silent exchange laden with unspoken tension, while Jin's keen eyes caught sight of the Quandrivaeon.

(Quandrivaeon: The term combines elements of "Quadr-" for four passengers and wheels, and "Vaeon," a unique, exotic-sounding word evoking elegance and regality. The Quandrivaeon would be the epitome of luxury and sophistication, exclusively reserved for the royal family)

"The royal family in attendance?" Jin's brows furrowed in confusion. "Mother, please, enlighten us."

"We've came from a state of perplexity, as well. Y/N's mother hurried our farewells, urging an immediate return home," Jin continued to gaze intently at his mother, silently demanding an explanation.

Finally relenting with a soft, resigned sigh, his mother confessed, "I regret to inform you, but the royal family has orchestrated an emergency meeting with your fathers."

"An emergency meeting for what purpose?" Namjoon interjected, stepping forward with equal concern.

"A new Arcantia is to be established," Namjoon's mother interjected, noticing the other six mothers hesitated to respond, their glances fraught with reluctance.

(Arcantia: A fusion of "Arcane" and "Centuries," representing magical eras lasting a hundred years. Arcantia symbolizes the ever-changing weave of magic throughout the ages.)

"What do you mean by 'a new Arcantia'?" Hoseok's eyes widened in trepidation, sensing the gravity of the impending revelation.

"Yes, my dear children, a new Arcantia is set to commence—an Arcantia where all magic, and all who wield it, shall be expunged from the Kingdom of Pentaraegis," Namjoon's mother finally clarified.

"Banished? Magic, banned?" Jin's disbelief rang out, echoing the incredulity shared by his companions.

"That is correct, my son." Jin's mother nodded in solemn. But to them, the boys, it seemed so feigned.

The rest of the boys stood in shock and disbelief, grappling with the revelation. The abrupt prohibition of magic, so deeply intertwined with their kingdom, appeared surreal.

"For what reason?" Hoseok questioned, skepticism evident in his voice.

Their mothers exchanged glances, silently communicating with one another through their eyes, further intensifying the boys' frustration.

"Mother!" The simultaneous exclamation from the seven boys reverberated, causing their mothers to flinch involuntarily.

"We don't wish to alarm you, but unsettling whispers have circulated regarding a formidable group of witches. They seek to annex territories within our kingdom and forge alliances with covens and solitary witches alike. Your fathers, in alliance with the royal family, are marshaling forces to safeguard Pentaraegis and secure our collective future," explained Jin's mother, her eyes conveying a mix of sorrow and determination.

The weight of this revelation sent shockwaves through the faces of all seven boys. "But— but that's treason... Surely those witches comprehend the gravity of their actions," stuttered Jimin, his words hanging in the air like a lingering mist.

The countenances of their mothers mirrored the weight of the truth they had just disclosed. They understood the turbulent emotions surging within their sons upon learning of the imminent conflict. The witches' desire to claim Pentaraegis lands hinted at an impending war between two factions: the mundane humans and the witches.

In the midst of the heavy silence, Yoongi broke through with a voice that, despite his quiet nature, cut through the tension like a blade. "Is there more you wish to disclose?" His eyes remained fixed on the ground, an uncharacteristic intensity in his gaze.

"These rebellious witches have already seized control of several lands and are poised to claim another as we speak," Yoongi's mother revealed, her words landing like a solemn decree.

"W-where? Is it close by?" Jungkook's fear-laden voice trembled, his wide eyes glistening like twin constellations.

"No, thank the Gods. It's at the border of Auraventia," replied Yoongi's mother, a slight glimmer of relief accompanying her words.

"No..." Jungkook's voice trailed off, a tremor evident in his whisper, the horror mirrored in the collective visages of his companions.

"Why the distress, children?" Jin's mother inquired, her concern palpable.

"We've just returned there, or thereabouts," Jin interjected. "B-But Y/N! Her and her family is still there!"

Jin's concern resonated in his voice, mirrored by the anxious expressions of the rest of six young boys. The looming threat was not a mere abstraction; it was approaching the very doorstep of your home.

"We must extend our aid!" Hoseok exclaimed, a fervent determination in his eyes.

"No. You shall not!" Hoseok and Yoongi's mother asserted.

"And why should we not! They're in danger!" Jin exclaimed, his determination etched in the lines of his face.

"You'd be putting yourselves and all of us in jeopardy. Only a select few of us are privy to the full extent of the situation. Furthermore, we have already dispatched some of our men to aid them," Hoseok's mother reasoned with a firm resolve.

"Wait—That explains Y/N's mother hastening our farewells..." Namjoon mused aloud, prompting all the young men to turn their attention to him, eager for his insight.

Jimin silently nodded, affirming Namjoon's observation. "And did you catch that she urged Y/N to hasten her preparations..."

Taehyung furrowed his brow in contemplation, raising his gaze. "Hold on, were you all aware of this impending danger?"

Their collective silence was an admission, a realization that dawned upon them in this very moment. "And yet, you chose to withhold such crucial information from the outset!"

Jin and Namjoon turned back to their mothers, awaiting some form of explanation. "You are all truly incredulous."

Without a moment's hesitation, the seven determined young boys strode into the opulent cottage, boldly disrupting the pivotal meeting between their fathers and the royal family. The entry door was left agape in a brazen act, while their anxious mothers trailed closely behind.

"How long?" Namjoon demanded, the first to speak.

"Boys! How rude of you to barge in like this," scolded Namjoon's father with a stern tone, swiftly silenced by Namjoon's insistence. "How long were you all aware of this?!"

Gathered around a grand oval wooden table, the men, in collaboration with the King and Queen, surrounded a detailed map of the kingdom. Marked statues adorned specific locations, seemingly representing annexed territories claimed by rebellious witches. Other cryptic markers littered the tableau, leaving the boys uneasy about the ominous implications.

The seven boys darted their eyes between the unsettling symbols on the table and the elders, awaiting an explanation.

"Namjoon, boys, you can't simply demand answers like that," attempted Namjoon's mother to pacify them.

"No, the safety of our people is at stake, and none of you have uttered a word. My questions are justified," asserted Namjoon. Despite his youth, his intellect surpassed his peers, comprehending matters typically reserved for adults.

"You informed them?" Jin's father scrutinized the mothers, who wore guilt on their faces, confirming his suspicion.

"They are your children; their curiosity is unavoidable," the King interjected, diffusing the tension.

Jin, with a quizzical expression, stared at the King. "Answer the question: how long were you all aware of this dire situation?"

"Seokjin! Mind your tone with His Majesty," reprimanded Jin's father, but Jin, fixated on the King, ignored the warning, fearing the worst for you.

"I apologize for my son's tone, your Majesty," Jin's father pleaded.

The King, however, smiled and shook his head in understanding. "It's alright; fear is inevitable. To answer your query, young one, these rumors began circulating three auroas ago, and we only confirmed them just an auroa ago. Hence, your parents couldn't inform you earlier."

Hobi, perceiving an ominous aura from the red markers on the map, inquired, "What do the other markers signify?"

“Hoseok!” Hobi’s mother scolded.

The King's smile returned, though this time it bore a hint of feigned warmth, perhaps even a touch of sinister undertones. The boys couldn't quite grasp it, but they remained attentive to the King's response. "Oh, those represent the areas in our kingdom where we've dispatched our most esteemed military men for what we might term loyalty investigations."

"Loyalty investigations? Such a concept eludes my ears," Namjoon declared, narrowing his eyes. "And what transpires during these so-called 'loyalty investigations'?"

"Well, it's akin to a specialized inquiry led by the King's elite soldiers to ensure no one undermines the kingdom's stability. They visit households, pose questions, and guarantee the safety of our cherished realm. It's a kind of elaborate game of hide-and-seek, where they seek out those who may not fully grasp the importance of loyalty. Remember, unwavering support for the royal family is paramount. It's akin to a stern lesson; their language may be forceful, but it serves to underscore the imperative of unity," Yoongi's mother interjected, choosing her words carefully.

Namjoon, however, with his keen intellect, saw through the carefully crafted explanation. "So, you've instituted a military inquisition?"

"Namjoon—! Pardon my son's audacity, your Majesty," Namjoon's father hissed, bowing slightly to the King.

"What about those innocent in the matter?" Jimin asked with genuine concern in his tone.

"They, too, shall be implicated," Jimin's father promptly replied. "Now, all of you boys, leave this room at once, no more questions."

"Take them away," he ordered, motioning toward their mothers.

As they were unceremoniously dragged away in protest by their mothers, Hoseok's perceptive eyes caught something that seized his immediate interest – a red marker, situated on a land he intimately knew, sending shivers down his spine.

The border of Auraventia.

His eyes widened. "Wait!"

"We recognize that place! Why is Y/N's residence marked?" Hoseok questioned in a panic, breaking free from his mother's grip.

Upon hearing Hoseok's revelation, the remaining boys also swiftly broke free, their concern escalating for you, now aware that the red markers signified an inquisition for her household. The gravity of the situation deepened, understanding that you and your family residing at the border of Auraventia, was the sole target.

"What?!! Why?!!" the seven of them chorused.

"I can assure you, Your Majesty, Y/N and her family are innocent!" Jin pleaded, unwittingly shedding a watery sting, echoed by the other six boys, revealing the profound concern they held for you.

"I thought you were seeking and reprimanding witches, not targeting humans too?" Hoseok exclaimed in worry.

"Oh, you all must be mistaken—" The King began to reply, but his wife, the Queen, interrupted, glancing at him and shaking her head discreetly, directing his attention to the seven mothers with pleading faces, silently conveying, "These boys don't know the whole truth."

This prompted the King to reconsider. "Well, young ones, you'd be surprised how often humans align themselves with those not of their kind. As the ruler and protector of my kingdom, I must take all necessary safety measures. Do you all understand?"

Though the King framed his words with an air of nobility and concern, it failed to resonate with the boys. Their thoughts were consumed by you and your safety.

"If that's to be the case, then we request to witness the inquisition. To ensure a fair process for both your soldiers and Y/N and her family," Namjoon suggested.

"Absolutely not," Namjoon's father affirmed.

"Father!" Namjoon exclaimed in defiance.

"Enough, Namjoon; it needs to be done!" his father replied assertively.

Jimin, with a fervent gleam in his eyes, threw his stance into the fray. "And what of her mother and father? Are you all forgetting Y/N's parents are your dear friends just like Y/N is to us! Do you have no faith in them?" he argued, his words laced with a blend of concern and exasperation.

"Jimin, my child, this is what is necessary for all of us, don't you all understand that?" Jimin's mother interjected, her tone a mixture of sympathy and determination, attempting to calm the rising storm.

"But at the expense of our dear friends?! We will not accept this!" Jin's voice rang out, his frustration mirroring Jimin's.

"We're going. Whether you all like it or not," Namjoon declared, his gaze unwavering, his resolve like iron.

"And we've told you, you shall not!" Namjoon's father objected, his voice laced with authority, yet tinged with a hint of desperation.

In response, Namjoon lifted his chin defiantly, a silent proclamation of his unwavering resolve. He and his friends had made up their minds on how to proceed with the situation. You held a significance that transcended familial ties. You are not just a friend; you are a vital part of their lives. The circumstance puzzled them – how their parents, despite being friends with your parents, harbored an air of inequity towards them.

"Everyone, run to the Quadravicar!" Namjoon urgently commanded his six companions, swiftly pivoting and taking off with them.  The urgency in his voice spurred the group into action, a sense of rebellion fueling their movements.

"Namjoon! Boys, get back here!" The adults, voices raised in futile protest, attempted to chase after the departing group. The room erupted into a chaotic scene as the seven friends made a daring escape. The Quadravicar, their trusty steed, stood ready, its sleek form ready for the impending departure. With a swift motion, they mounted the vehicle, narrowly evading the grasp of pursuing fathers, as the Quadravicar surged forward with the speed of galloping horses, leaving the dissenting voices behind in the dust.

Merely moments ago, your family had readied themselves to abandon the safety of your cottage, fleeing the encroaching menace that had suddenly besieged your peaceful abode. It seemed as though fate had cruelly delivered a curse upon your doorstep, a curse that your family futilely tried to escape. As the door swung shut behind you, a dozen hooded women materialized, an ominous presence blocking your path.

"Ahvë, sē thōz klam, sēstrï," uttered a woman assumed to be the leader among the hooded ensemble, her voice echoing hauntingly across the somber scene. (translation: Hello, it's been so long, sister.)

"Why are you here?" your mother demanded, shielding you behind her while you clutched at her clothes, your fists tightening with anxiety.

"You are well aware of my purpose," replied the woman cryptically. "I come bearing a proposition."

"How ironic, after Lumiras of silence, now you come with a 'proposition'?" scoffed your mother, her tone laced with disdain. "I have no need of your offerings, sēstrï."

(A fusion of "Luminous" and "Era," Lumira represents ten years. It signifies periods of enlightenment and advancements in both magic and technology.)

A sly chuckle escaped the woman's lips. "Oh, but you may find it worth your while to listen."

With a deliberate motion, the woman cast aside her hood, revealing a countenance of unearthly allure—fair skin, with chiseled features, slim crimson heart-shaped lips curved in a beguiling smile, and eyes like shining emeralds. Yet beneath her beauty lurked a palpable menace, instilling fear in your heart despite her captivating facade.

"As you are aware, the royal family dispatched their most formidable military unit to apprehend you all—perhaps excluding the seemingly inconsequential human male by your side," she began, advancing purposefully toward your mother and you, each step resonating with ominous intent.

"And what do you think they'll do to you and that child of yours, given your bloodline?" she posed, her voice laden with sinister implications.

"Their declaration of a new Arcantia is nothing but an excuse to exterminate all living witches, our bloodline, simply because we've proven to be stronger and more powerful than them," the woman explained, a mocking laughter escaped her lips. "We've wounded their ego, it appears..."

Your mother narrowed her eyes, a clear defiance in her gaze. "No, it's because you're committing treason. You're seizing their land and unjustly punishing innocents who possess no magic. Your actions have invited their wrath."

Feigning weariness, the woman sighed, "You are naive and blindly loyal to those who would betray you. You've forgotten how closely you've approached an enemy patiently biding their time."

Now orbiting you and your parents, she condescendingly mused, "Normalcy is a luxury denied to us, given our bloodline. Yours is a life destined for anything but the ordinary."

"And your talk of treason is but a veil," she continued. "I seek only to reveal our true nature as witches, among the most formidable entities in existence, to those who would subjugate us. The time has come for them to bow to our supremacy."

"These lands was once ours—do you not remember?"

Indignant, your mother argued, "Yes, those lands was once ours, but history has unfolded, and we must adapt. Your actions only validate their fears, pushing them to extremes."

To this, the woman responded, "Adaptation is a luxury you cannot afford, ensconced in your delusions. Our roots run deep, and reclaiming what is rightfully ours necessitates drastic measures."

Your mother furrowed her brows in disagreement, "This is not the way. We can't stoop to their level. It's not who we are."

She furrowed her brow in frustration. "You know, you speak of treason, yet it is you who have betrayed our kind, aligning with our adversaries," she accused.

She then sighs with an air of indifference, beginning to walk away from you and your parents. "Well, it's too late now..."

Your mother's head shook in a plea. "No, it's not too late—please, Veranōthi."

(A female name in Astrithian meaning "beauty of night". The overall pronunciation would be: "Vay-rahn-aw-thee.")

At the mention of her name, Veranōthi halted, her posture stiffening. She emitted a mocking chuckle. "You remain unchanged, Sorëi," she muttered with a derisive tone.

(A female name in Astrithian meaning "heaven's light". "Sorëi" is pronounced as "saw-ray.")

With a thoughtful lift of her head, she contemplated for a brief moment. Veranōthi then pivoted back towards your family, before morphing into a narrowed gaze with a sinister gleam. "As I was saying, you've been branded as traitors..."

"And so now, you have two choices, as my proposition: align with us or face dire consequences at the hands of your 'allies'—or I could rid you or your abomination child myself," she proposed, a cruel smile curling on her lips.

"She is but a child, devoid of fault. Have you no mercy?" implored your mother.

"She defies the natural order, a product of forbidden magic." Veranōthi retorted. "You meddled with forces best to be left alone, bringing forth one who should have remained in the realm of shadows—An anomaly that challenges the very fabric of existence."

"She is my daughter, and I am a mother—a mother who would defy the heavens for her child," your mother asserted resolutely. "A sentiment you, devoid of such maternal bonds, cannot comprehend."

The tension thickened as the confrontation reached its climax, the air heavy with the weight of impending choices and irreparable consequences.

"I trust you haven't forgotten I am not one to entertain indecision. Sentiment holds no sway here. Choose wisely," Veranōthi warned, her voice tinged with impatience. "It's quite simple, you see..."

"You claim motherhood... wouldn't you desire to witness your child flourish into a powerful witch among us? Joining forces with me and our kind is the logical path forward," she urged, attempting to persuade your mother.

"And consider the vast potential we could unlock with our combined magic, alongside your child," she added with a smirk.

Your mother seemed momentarily swayed, her brows furrowing in contemplation. Sensing her hesitation, your father intervened. "Sorëi, do not heed her words. They are but lies meant to deceive."

Veranōthi's expression soured at your father's rebuttal, and with a swift gesture, her hand illuminated with magic. "Silence, mortal," she hissed, casting an enchantment that caused your father's lips to seal as if stitched together.

His eyes widened in realization, and your mother, cognizant of the sorcery at play, lifted her gaze, alarmed by the silent coercion. "Don't you dare use your magic on my husband!"

"Fëstöl." Your mother says with enchantment, gracefully waving her hand in the air illuminating her hand with her own magic, undoing the magically coercion done by her fellow witch.

(translation: unbind. "Fëstöl" is pronounced as "fay-stohl". pronounce "stohl," where "st" is pronounced as in English, and "öl" is pronounced like "aw" in "saw.")

Your mother then shifts her eyes to Veranōthi with seriousness. "You can try push your limits with your magic on the royal family and other humans Veranōthi, but I will not allow it on my family."

"There is a line you do not cross, and I am warning you."

Veranōthi begins to giggle then morphs into a laughing then a manic laugh. "You must be joking. Are you threatening me, Sorëi?"

"You—out of all people. An Ëzaraulthi?" She continues to laugh.

(Ëzaraulthi are witches who dedicate themselves to the benevolent use of magic, focusing on healing, medicine, and protection)

"I could never humor you. I guess you must forgetting that Ëzaraulthi are ones who will protect by any means neccesary, even if it means duelling with her own kind. Something we're all familiar, don't you think?"

"Do not kid yourself Sorëi, you're outnumbered." The emerald eyes hardening towards your mother.

Your mother smirks with a tilt of her head. "You're also forgetting, I'm a part of the Thallörin, as an Aroshëra."

(Thallörin is a governing body that unites the most adept witches from each coven, suggesting a group that possesses profound knowledge and influence within the mystical realms of Astrithian culture, it is pronounced as "Thahl-aw-reen."

Aroshëra term for the most expert healer within the governing body of adept witches, known for their ability to mend both physical and magical wounds, and expertise in protection magic and defense with light magic.)

Veranōthi loses her smile, into a frown. "Fine, have it your way. Your doom is now here."

Suddenly, the tranquil ambiance shattered as a rain of pure iron arrows descended upon your group. Gasps echoed through the air as the witches, including your family, recoiled at the unexpected assault. Iron, a notorious weakness for witches, posed an imminent threat, casting an unsettling shadow over the battlefield.

However, the unexpected twist wasn't limited to the iron arrows. The royal military elite wielded a peculiar device—a compact contraption emitting a high-frequency sound. The resonating waves temporarily immobilized the witches, leaving them vulnerable to the approaching soldiers.

Chaos erupted as the clash unfolded. Your father, despite being human, demonstrated remarkable combat skills, engaging in a dance of blades with the royal military elite. Magic surged through the air as your mother and the remaining witches retaliated, a symphony of spells colliding against the iron-clad attackers.

Veranōthi's commanding voice pierced through the chaos. "They're using iron! Cowards, kill these humans, sisters! Kill them all!"

Amidst the chaos, Veranōthi's eyes bore into your mother's, the weight of years of animosity palpable. "Don't you see, they're finding our weakness and trying to kill us. It's either them or us."

Your mother, undeterred, raised her hands, creating a shimmering barrier that deflected a barrage of magical attacks. "There is strength in mercy, and wisdom in finding common ground. We are all bound by the threads of magic; there must be a way to end this without plunging into the abyss."

Veranōthi scoffed, her expression hardening. "You're naive, Sorëi. Our survival depends on our ability to eradicate those who seek to subjugate us. To show mercy now is to court destruction."

As the battle raged on, you watched your mother, determined to protect both sides from unnecessary casualties, her gaze swept across the battlefield, assessing the toll of the conflict. The witches—albeit wounded, writhed in pain, fueled by desperation and the fear of annihilation, unleashed a torrent of magical prowess, while the air was thick with the acrid scent of burnt magic.

In the distance, your father continued his valiant struggle against the military elite, his combat skills proving formidable, while your mother attempted to reason with Veranōthi.

Unable to ignore the urgency of the situation, your mother's voice rose above the chaos. "Cease this madness! Our powers are formidable, but so is the cost of this unrestrained violence. We can end this conflict without further bloodshed."

Veranōthi, unyielding, countered, "Bloodshed is the language of war, Sorëi. Do not delude yourself into thinking otherwise."

"Even in war, there's room for mercy. We can find a compromise that spares both our kind and theirs."

As the two sides clashed, a surge of magical energy enveloped Veranōthi. She channeled her power, creating dark ethereal tendrils that snaked through the air, seeking to ensnare the military elite. The soldiers, caught off guard by the sudden onslaught, struggled against the mystical bonds.

Your mother seized the opportunity, her eyes ablaze with determination. "This is not the path we should tread. There is a choice beyond this carnage."

Veranōthi's response was a defiant laugh, echoing across the battlefield. "Choices are but illusions, Sorëi. We are bound by destiny, and our destiny is to triumph over those who would oppress us."

Just then, a realization dawned upon your mother. The witches, driven by a relentless desire for vengeance, were no longer open to reason. She grappled with the realization that sometimes, the pursuit of peace required confronting the harsh realities of war. The battle had escalated beyond control, and she knew that a more decisive action was necessary to prevent further devastation.

With a focused gaze, your mother directed her magic towards the magical bonds Veranōthi had woven. The dark ethereal tendrils began to unravel, releasing the military elite from their magical restraints. As the soldiers regained their freedom, Veranōthi's expression twisted into a mixture of fury and disbelief.

"You would betray your own kind for these oppressors?" Veranōthi accused, her voice laced with bitterness.

Your mother met Veranōthi's gaze unwaveringly. "I seek not betrayal but understanding. We can coexist without perpetuating this cycle of hatred and violence."

The military elite, now liberated, regrouped with renewed determination. Your father, displaying an astonishing level of prowess, fighting against them. The battleground shifted, no longer a standoff between witches and your family but a united front against the oppressive forces of the royal family.

Veranōthi, unwilling to concede defeat, unleashed a wave of destructive magic. The earth trembled beneath the onslaught, and a torrent of energy surged towards your mother and the allied forces.

With a swift motion, your mother conjured a protective barrier, shielding the group from the impending onslaught. "This ends now, Veranōthi. We can create a world where magic is not a weapon but a force for unity."

The battle raged on, the clash of magic and steel echoing through the night. The air crackled with energy as both sides pushed their limits, each moment carrying the weight of a decision that would shape the future.

As Veranōthi's eyes suddenly glowed with an ominous light, a shiver ran down your spine, and the air seemed to grow heavy with an unsettling energy. Your mother, catching sight of this eerie transformation, couldn't hide the fear that widened her eyes. "Veranōthi, what are you doing!?" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with concern.

"Since you don't want to make the tough decision, I will make it for you. Ëzal vruunithi, kethir shalnith vroha, uzin gathithi," she intones in the archaic Astrithian tongue, her voice distorting with each syllable.

(translation: "I call upon this mother energy, giving me strength")

Your mother's eyes widen in horror as Veranōthi's sinister powers surge, setting her fingertips ablaze with an otherworldly energy. The dark magic courses through her, and with an abrupt turn, her gaze locks onto you. A small figure, cowering behind wooden wagons that offer meager protection from the escalating chaos, suddenly becomes the focal point of Veranōthi's malevolent intent.

Veranōthi's arms weave intricate patterns in the air, casting spells that propel her magic toward you without warning. Time seems to slow as the ethereal bullets of energy hurtle towards your defenseless form.

Unbeknownst to both you and Veranōthi, your mother, fueled by an unyielding maternal love, charges forth in a desperate attempt to shield you from the imminent threat hurtling your way. Recognizing the potent enchantment the moment it escaped Veranōthi's lips, she comprehends the perilous nature of her chosen course.

Blocking may prove futile, and deflecting the dark magic poses its own challenges, so she makes the heart-wrenching decision to absorb the brunt of the attack. As a light magic user, such absorption could prove detrimental, but as your mother, she's willing to make that sacrifice for your survival.

As the seconds dwindled, your mother, defying the constraints of time, positioned herself just in the nick of it. She gestured swiftly, intending to deflect and absorb the magic, but miscalculations led her to absorb the full force of Veranōthi's dark energies. The impact propels her backward, slamming against the wooden wagon before landing roughly in front of you.

In your distress, you find yourself scrambling towards your mother, who lay sprawled before you, battered by the force of the dark incantation.

"Mother!" you wail, your eyes welling up with tears as you approach, desperate to render aid, though the gravity of the situation seems beyond your young capabilities. Making you torn between a desperate desire to help and the harsh reality that there may be little you can do.

Veranōthi's satisfaction lingered in the air, her dark powers momentarily appeased by the release of the potent spell. A triumphant sneer adorned her face as she surveyed the scene. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you beheld your mother's frail form, fading under the weight of her injuries.

Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream shatters the air. With a sickening twist of your neck, you behold a ghastly scene: your father, battered and bloodied, kneels before two of the royal family's elite soldiers.

One plunges his sword deep into your father's abdomen, the steel emerging slick with crimson. The other, with a cruel gleam in his eye, raises his blade for a decapitating strike. As the blade arcs downward, it meets flesh with a sickening thud, separating your father's head from his body. Blood gushes forth in a grotesque fountain, drenching the ground in a pool of crimson horror.

Your heart raced as despair gripped you, but resolve surged within. Your parents' lives hung in the balance, and you would not allow them to perish without a fight.

In a surge of unknowable power, you bellowed, "Stop!" Dark blue magical energy radiated from within you, slicing through the air like a spectral blade. The arcane force engulfed all in its path—witches and soldiers alike. Those touched by the magic found themselves ensnared by an otherworldly fire, immune to any attempt at extinguishing it, save for the one who had summoned it—none other than you.

Yet, the remaining witches, including the cunning Veranōthi, exhibited a combination of skill and luck. They swiftly conjured a magical barrier, shielding themselves from the lethal flames that devoured their comrades. The unlucky few screamed in agony as they succumbed to the relentless blaze, their demise haunting the air with the stench of burning flesh.

The gruesome spectacle dawned upon Veranōthi with a sudden realization. You, the summoner of this inferno, were the Zalvokraël of their time. A choice loomed before her: to slay you in your vulnerable state as you attempted to tend to your mother or to spare you, recognizing the potential you held—the makings of the most powerful witch. Persuading you to join their cause could prove invaluable, and after a contemplative moment, she chose the latter.

"Sisters, our task here is complete. I sense a group approaching. Let us depart immediately," she commands, and with traces of glowing magic subtly left behind, they vanish into the air.

However, you pay no heed to the burning bodies, your focus solely on your mother. "Mother..." Your voice quivers, tears finally falling from your cheeks.

Her weary but loving eyes met yours, and she managed a gentle lip-smile. "Fear not, my child. I chose this fate to ensure your survival. You must carry on from this point forward."

The air hung heavy with sorrow as you cradled your mother, her life slipping away like grains of sand through your desperate fingers. "I don't know if I can go on without you," you whispered, the weight of the impending loss settling upon your shoulders.

With a weakening hand, she touched your cheek. "You are strong, my love. The power within you, it will guide you. Embrace it, and remember, I will always be a part of you." Her voice wavered but held an underlying strength.

The battlefield lay strewn with the aftermath of the clash, the acrid scent of burning magic permeating the air. As the last embers of the magical fire dwindled, leaving behind scorched remnants, you clung to the fading warmth of your mother's presence.

In the distance, a Quadravicar approached. Your mother's breaths grew shallower, her life force slipping away. "Mother, please, don't leave me," you pleaded, desperation and grief intertwining in your voice.

She drew you closer, her breaths becoming faint whispers. "Listen closely, my child. Your path ahead is uncertain, but within you lies a power that can shape destinies. Find allies, trust in yourself, and remember, love is a force that transcends even the darkest of times."

A solemn silence enveloped the battlefield as your mother's eyes dimmed, her final words echoing in your heart. Then, a distant yet hurried echo of light footsteps resonated through the desolate air, piercing the eerie silence that hung heavy over the charred remnants of a once serene landscape.

"Y/N!" The call reached your ears, a familiar voice cutting through the haunting aftermath of destruction. You recognized it instantly.

"Y/N, where are you?" The urgent cries continued, pulling your attention away from the heart-wrenching scene that surrounded you. Your tear-blurred eyes strained to focus, but you knew those voices belonged to your dearest seven friends. Against all odds, they had returned for you.

"Y/N!" Their collective voices rose, echoing through the night as they desperately scanned the tragic tableau for your presence.

As one of them spotted you, his eyes lit up with joy. "Guys! I found her, she's right there! Y/N!"

Tears of relief mingled with the sorrow streaming down your cheeks as all seven of them sprinted toward you. "Y/N!"

They reached you, their frantic expressions shifting from worry to joy. However, as their eyes fell upon the devastation around you, their elation turned to disbelief. Your mother lay lifeless amidst the charred ruins.

Jungkook and Jimin sank to their knees beside her, shock and despair etched across their faces. They had been the closest to your mother, and the weight of grief bore down on them. "Amahra…"

"I'm sorry," you whispered. It wasn't your fault, yet guilt clung to you like a shadow, a child ensnared in the tragedy and horrors of war.

Namjoon took a deep breath, his eyes welling with tears as he approached you. "It's not your fault, Y/N."

"She tried to save me," you muttered, your lip quivering as you met Namjoon's gaze with tearful eyes. The dam finally broke, and you sobbed, collapsing into Namjoon's comforting embrace.

The rest of them, too, shared in your silent grief. Quiet sobs and sniffles intermingled with the palpable sorrow among you all. They may have considered your parents as their own, and your parents may have embraced them as their own children, but the depth of your grief was incomprehensible to them.

In the midst of the mourning, an air of somber determination settled over Namjoon's features. "We need to leave this place. It's not safe here."

The others nodded in agreement, their expressions grim. Jungkook and Jimin reluctantly tore themselves away from your mother's lifeless form, their eyes swollen with tears. The group huddled together, forming a protective circle around you.

As you clung to Namjoon, the reality of the situation began to sink in. Your home, once a sanctuary, now lay in ruins. The stars overhead bore witness to the tragedy, their distant gleam offering no solace.

Your group moves forward, navigating the desolate landscape with a heavy heart. Moonlight filtered through the sparse clouds, casting an ethereal glow on the devastated world around you.

A/N: thank you for reading! <3333 the main reason i wrote this intro was to give some insight into the kind of character Y/N (you, the reader) will be later in the story, based on the past Y/N suffers from. it also helps to lay the groundwork for future scenes and establish the kind of friendship you have with the boys from the beginning.

drabble masterpost | masterlist | character boards | prologue | part 1 | part 2 [finale] | alternate ending

[sagaduwyrm]

Infinite Realms World-building

So I have a lot of thoughts over why their aren't that many ghosts in the Ghost Zone/Infinite Realms and how other afterlives fit into the situation so here.

The Infinite Realms aren't an afterlife. They're not a place any mortal soul is supposed to reach. They're the lining between afterlives, the wall holding them apart, the cradle holding all those places souls are meant to go. The Infinite Realms aren't anything, just a no man's worthless land.

The Infinite Realms weren't anything.

But. Picture this.

You are dead.You are dead you are dead you are deadyou aredeadyouaredead

It hurt. It was the worst thing you've ever felt, that moment when the bindings between your mortal body and your immortal soul were sundered beyond all recovery. You're disoriented and in pain and crying, weeping wails echoing across the metaphysical expanse.

But then a hand reaches out to you.

Hands, really.

They whisper in your ear. Come home, one says, offering gentle, glittering love. You've earned this, screams another like it’s a battle-cry. A dozen voices like hellfire and damnation offer atonement, if that's what you seek, although the punishment they offer varies. One voice that is not a voice but is the void offers the rest of non-existence, the creak of a wheel suggests reincarnation.

These gods and demons and spirits and entities want you, is the thing. Their grip is like chains around your ankles, dragging you down, and you have to choose, you hAVe To cHooSE, or It Will Be Chosen For You.

And this is what's supposed to happen, isn't it? The next step. Your eternal rest. Getting to pick is a greater mercy than a little mortal deserves, even.

But.

But…

You aren't a little mortal. You refuse to be.

You are the woman who revolutionized school lunches.

You are the greatest hunter in the world.

You are Romeo and Juliet, except they were a tragedy and you are not because you can bet your ass you went out laughing.

You are the world's next rock-star whose voice no one ever got to hear.

You are a man who loves boxes.

You are a clever wish-granter, the greatest magician in the world..

You are a Queen with people to protect.

You are the master of technology.

You are a boy who died too soon, too young, and hell, you should give up, but you never got to see the stars. You never got to see the stars, or what your sister looks like graduating from college, or how your friends look when they change the world. You'll never know if you'll be an uncle, if you'll have your dad's shoulders or your mom's wiry strength, what it feels like to kiss someone, whether or not Dash will ever get that stick his ass and become a decent person again. No one will ever read your paper on the genesis of stars, or fly to Pluto in a rocket ship you designed, or welcome you home after you've fulfilled your life's dream and gone to space.

It's a goddamn tragedy is what it is.

And dying hurt, so bad you're not sure if you'll ever be the same. But. All your chains are broken now. Your soul is free, in a way that it's never quite been before. You are a butterfly, broken free from your cocoon.

And they want to chain you.

They whisper so sweetly, so gently in your ear, even as they tear you apart in a child's game of tug-of-war. You have to choose.

Fuck that.

Fuck that. Dying hurts but it also freed all the potential of your beautiful, brilliant soul, and you aren't going back. Maybe you’re Icarus, flying too close to the sun, but you have wings now, and you won't let them be pinned.

You take the plunge. Through brimstone, through the river with its eternal ferry, through light and dark and a thousand different afterlives that want you like they have any damned right to your soul.

You fly, and you aren't sure if you're running forward or fleeing, but you fly. And it takes forever, a century and a day that lasts less than the beat of a heart, but then you burst free of all those grasping hands and you see green.

The green is infinite and it's empty. But it's free. It's beautiful and bright and you breathe it in, this base stuff of reality, this entropy in motion, and your soul comes to life. You aren't bound anymore, not by the base practicalities of your body, not by the laws and hunger of the gods, not by anything but your own willpower and trust in yourself.

Once the Infinite Realms were empty, once they were nothing. Now there are ghosts singing their exultant freedom. With them they bring ideas and movement and life, and the eddies they stir become whole new beings, spirits that never lived as anything other than what they are. These empty currents now hold whole worlds, ghosts and spirits and monsters.

And one day some strange being comes and tries to take your freedom and he calls himself Pariah Dark. Maybe he was a determined mortal just like you, maybe he was a demon, something sent by the gods to punish you for daring to be more, but it doesn't matter. Regardless of how hard he tries, how many lands his armies invade, how deep he digs his clawed hands in, it doesn't matter. 

No one can conquer Infinity.

And then the Ancients awake. Even in a realm of equals, there are still those who are more. And what is the point of power if you can't protect your fellows?

So they shut him away, this fool who doesn't care for the freedom the Infinite offers, put him in a sleep so deep even his dreams can't disturb others. And when he wakes up there is a boy, small and young, but with more determination in his body than most could dare claim, and the tyrant who steals freedom is sent straight back to sleep.

The Infinite Realms need no King, but this boy is small and clever and kind, and when two people war, he is the first to come and mediate, the first to shove himself between their fury and make them remember themselves. They don't need a King, but the Infinite Realms are so big, with so many people, and they wouldn't mind a Speaker. Someone to connect them all, regardless of how far they lay apart.

And this boy with stars in his eyes and gentle hands grumbles, but he loves the Infinite as much as they love him, and he's almost meant for this, existing between Ancient and New, Living and Dead. They would never chain him, but he was always meant to explore, and who wouldn't want to meet and see and know everything?

The Infinite Realms are green and free and beautiful, and no god can ever change that.

[aldisobey]

Alright so I’m deep in work with Emmlich stuff and don’t know how long that’ll take. In the meantime! Realized I never posted the AO3 link to my first little piece. This is immediately after Tearstone, mortal Emmrich. Link above, story below because it’s short lol

The Lighthouse doors were open, Taash’s guttural roars echoed within the stone while the Veilguard rushed into motion. Wisps dashed in frantic pace as the astrolabe turned above the storm, and on the second floor, first hall on the right, the clatter of bones and scratch of a pen sounded soft against the pained cries from the left halls.

“Manfred. If you could make haste.” The finished missive in hand, Emmrich stood from his desk and motioned for the skeleton.

“Haste.” A confident hiss ran the undercurrent. Manfred loped a few steps over before standing uncommonly still, a gleam in the green of his eyes.

“Exactly. Keep steady, directly to Myrna, await her directions.”

Every word precise, every syllable crisp, but the words shook in Emmrich’s throat. The extended missive wavered midair. Manfred locked his gaze on the necromancer.

“Steady.” Hiss absent, he took hold of the letter and Emmrich’s hand all at once. Manfred clasped tight, and his jawbone dropped, a slow hissing hush escaping the skull like a breath.

Emmrich blinked, eyes wide a moment as the breath he unwittingly held broke free. The trembling in his fingers went still as he brought his other hand to cover Manfred’s. He closed his eyes, deliberately filling his lungs. They held tight for a moment, no care for the crumpled paper between their fingers. Emmrich exhaled, the air leaving his body in a series of shakes, but stillness in its wake.

Breath even, eyes opening slow, a green spark woke in the depths of their warmth.

“Good lad. Lucanis and Spite are waiting at the eluvian, they’ll see you home. Assist Myrna and Vorgoth as they ask and return with the items requested.”

Emmrich gave the skeleton’s hand a last firm squeeze before turning away, his mind busy running the needed incantations before their utterance.

“Home!” Manfred’s hiss returned to color the word, cloaking it in determination and understanding as he took off running down the hall, “Rook! Home!”

Manfred missed the last glance Emmrich shot over his shoulder. Wouldn’t have noticed the welling in the necromancer’s eyes, or the hands tightly pressed together. A breath in through the nose and out past the lips, the pained expression flitted away and his body relaxed again. The green embers of before flashing now.

Emmrich stripped his coat and let it fall as he turned to the spiraling staircase. Teeth grit but once, brow furrowed a moment, he set his back straight and took great strides up to the balcony. At the first step he set his hands in motion, began the low incantations. Green sprites danced while he orchestrated patterns in the air, and by the time he reached the heights, the tower itself was awash in spectral flame.

His voice called out deep across the Fade, enchantments lilting as the thrum of great movements echoed in time to his chant.

The Lighthouse’s protective bubble wrinkled, slowly crumpled in towards Emmrich. It was as if he stood on the ocean’s floor, his fingertips the epicenter of a thin hairline funnel that swirled, stretched, and grew into an encompassing whirlpool that expanded out into the greater Fade.

The towers tumbling in air groaned, paused, as the necromancer’s voice thundered out from the foundations of the lighthouse itself. Flickers of spirits began to appear and dance in the sway. A trickle of tens soon became a flood of hundreds to thousands. Spirits and more of every color, size, and form thronged buzzing and darting, flowing, sparking, and singing as they filled the sky and very being of the air, darting between the folds of the Fade itself half in and out of sight.

Emmrich brought his hands together with a deafening crack. The flashes of magic responded, the twisting of the Fade keening in reply as its movements slowed to glacial pace to hang on his words.

“Rook,” he meant to say more, but their name caught in his throat. The swell of spirits now held still, patient, knowing. Emmrich clung to the railing, swept his gaze across the gathered tumult, and seemed, impossibly so, to perceive every last one.

Drawing to his full height, hands clasped tight, his voice called out, calm yet bellowing, “Dearest friends, Rook has vanished, I need your assistance locating them!”

Like fireworks they dispersed in color and motion, countless beings speeding away and in and throughout as the search began. The near Fade thrummed, the whirling magic accelerating as if carrying his message. The bend in the bubble creaked, the wrinkles in its surface spreading throughout. Long moments it held there, the indent reaching out almost achingly towards the necromancer.

Emmrich flicked his hands, and the bubble snapped back in reply. The recursive rebound sent out his conjuration in great drumming reverberating waves. Whatever he’d done would echo far across the Fade. The protective bubble went smooth with a shiver.

Emmrich collapsed, the shiver of the bubble nothing compared to the trembling overtaking him as he melted to his knees. A hushed whisper escaping his lips,

“Please…”

[gothamite-rambler]

Kuchisake-onna vs Duke Thomas (Signal)

In a dimly lit alleyway, a malevolent woman, Kuchisake-onna walked over to a distracted Signal (Duke Thomas) as he texted some hero friends on his phone.

Kuchisake-onna (sinister tone): Excuse me?

Duke (glancing up from his phone, exasperated): Yes—Oh God Damn it.

Duke scanned the area, realizing he was alone with the legendary Kuchisake-onna, the slit-mouthed woman. He had been trying to avoid this situation ever since he overheard Zatanna and Dick discussing her dark lore and how she was summoned to Gotham. For a reason he didn't know and didn't care to know. He had made it clear he didn’t mess with the spirits, but now he stood next to this malicious being.

Duke (thinking to himself, fearful): I have to come up with a plan to escape. I’m not Batman though. Damn it.

Kuchisake-onna's eyes narrowed, her voice low and firm.

Kuchisake-onna: Am I—

Duke (interrupting, panic setting in): Nah! Gotta go! Not dying or getting slashed.

With that, Duke turned to run, hoping the folklore tips he read would save him. Unfortunately, the ghostly figure didn’t allow him to escape so easily.

Kuchisake-onna (chasing after him, her voice demanding): Hey, that’s not how the game goes! Too many people have escaped that way. You will answer my question!

Duke spun around, preparing for the worst. He faced the aura of malice in the form of a woman wearing a CDC face mask, and exhaled deeply, resigned.

Duke (trying to sound less terrified): I’m going to punch Nightwing if I survive this. Let’s get this over with—ask the stupid question.

Kuchisake-onna leaned forward, anticipation in her voice.

Kuchisake-onna: Am I pretty?

Duke (rolling his eyes): Is anyone pretty? Look, society is way too focused on appearances.

Kuchisake-onna (taken aback, confused): What?

Duke (taking a few steps back with his arms crossed): I'm just saying, I have a friend who can look basic to some and then make the Forbes Most Attractive Men list the next. Meanwhile, I see myself as foine, but kind of of basic.

Kuchisake-onna raised her eyebrow, not satisfied with his avoidance.

Kuchisake-onna: That wasn’t an answer to my question. Am I pretty?

Duke (squinting, a tad defensive): I’m blind in my right eye, and it’s blurry as hell in my left eye. Did you assume I could see so you could get an answer about your looks? You are rude, sir. Incredibly rude!

Kuchisake-onna, taken aback and stammering while clutching a pair of scissors, struggled to regain composure.

Kuchisake-onna (confused): I— You— Um—

In a bold move, Duke snatched the scissors from her hands and took off running before she could react.

Kuchisake-onna (shouting, infuriated): Those were my scissors!

Duke (looking back over his shoulder as he dashed away): They’re mine now! Bye-bye!

Duke’s laughter echoed down the alley as he turned the corner, leaving the bewildered ghost behind. Kuchisake-onna stomped her foot in frustration, wrestling with her astonishment.

Kuchisake-onna (muttering to herself, irritated): This would’ve never happened in Japan. Damn Americans.

[ginxyy]

In the moonlight

My soul mate hoshi

It all began on a rainy autumn afternoon, a time when the world is painted in shades of gold and crimson. The sound of raindrops tap-danced against the window, creating a serene backdrop for what would become the most enchanting encounter of my life. Hoshi, the brilliant star of SEVENTEEN, was more than just the cheerful spirit I saw on screen; he was a whirlwind of laughter and warmth, and I was utterly mesmerized.

Let me take you back to that day. I had been invited to a dance rehearsal for an upcoming performance, filled with nervous anticipation and delusions of grandeur. I stood there, trying to blend into the background, my heart racing at the thought of being in the same room as him. Hoshi entered the studio like a ray of sunshine piercing through a stormy cloud, his laughter echoing in the space. Every emotion I felt could be described in a single word: “captivated.”

As we warmed up, the camaraderie amongst the members was infectious. Hoshi was leading the group, correcting us with playful banter that left everyone in stitches. I found myself caught in a whirlwind of motion, stumbling over my feet during a particularly complicated routine. And that was when it happened. I fell quite literally right into his direction. With a graceful efficiency that surprised even me, he was there, catching me just before I hit the floor.

“Whoa there! Let’s save the ground for the finishing moves, shall we?” he quipped, his eyes dancing with mischief. We locked eyes, and for a moment, the world around us faded into nothingness. I couldn’t help but blush, laughing awkwardly as I regained my composure. However, what had started as embarrassment transformed into an exhilarating spark of connection.

Rehearsals turned into food breaks where laughter lingered longer than the deliciousness of our meals. One day, while sharing a plate of dumplings, Hoshi leaned in closer, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Okay, but seriously, can you fold dumplings like this?” He demonstrated an impressive technique, his hands moving deftly. I did my best to mimic him, but my dumplings ended up more like sad little blobs. Hoshi's laughter filled the room, a sound so bright and joyful that all I could do was join him, feeling the sincerity of happiness swell within me.

Days passed, and our playful interactions blossomed into something that felt undeniably magic. Hoshi had a way of making everything feel monumental; even the simplest moments felt woven into a tapestry of memories. Whether it was trying to beat him at his favorite video game very much to my chagrin or engaging in friendly dance-offs, I began to realize that I was falling for him in the most delightful way.

One breezy evening, as we wrapped up another long rehearsal, he suggested a spontaneous moonlit stroll through the neighborhood. The air was infused with the scent of night-blooming jasmine, and my heart raced with the thrill of stealing time together away from prying eyes. The moon hung low, a giant pearl in the vast sky, and we walked side by side, sharing stories about our dreams, our fears, and everything in between.

“Hear that?” he asked suddenly, his expression playful. “That’s the sound of me winning in life, walking next to the most amazing person.” I rolled my eyes but felt my cheeks heat up. There was an endearing authenticity in his words that made every uncertainty fade away. As we wandered aimlessly, he playfully nudged me as he told me about his training days, tangling moments of his past with quirky impressions that sent me into fits of laughter.

Just then, as we turned a corner, a sprightly little dog dashed towards us, its tail wagging excitedly. Hoshi knelt down, and without hesitation, the puppy leaped into his arms, showering him with wet kisses. “Looks like someone has found their new best friend!” I chuckled, watching the sight unfold. He looked up at me, a puppy perched on his lap, and grinned. “Well, they clearly have great taste, don’t you think?”

In moments like these, I found my heart bursting with affection. I wanted to memorize every laugh line, every contour that made his face light up. As my gaze shifted back to the sky, I noticed the stars began to twinkle. “They’re shining for you,” I said softly. Hoshi turned to me, a surprised look crossing his face. “For me?” he questioned, a smile creeping onto his lips. “What if they’re shining for you too?” Our eyes met again, charged with a sensation that was unmistakably tender.

During rehearsals, the cute moments multipliedour endless teasing, secretive smiles, and shared earbuds filled with music. I loved the way he would swap his hat with mine, laughing until we ended up in a heap of giggles on the floor. I was entranced by the harmony between us, where even silence became sweet and familiar.

Yet, there were awkward moments too; like the time he tried to show me how to do a particularly difficult dance move, only to end up tangled in each other’s limbs. “Well, this isn’t going as planned!” he exclaimed, struggling to break free. My laughter echoed against the walls as I tried to untangle myself, whispers of mischief floating between us as we exchanged goofy faces and uncontrollable giggles.

As the season unfolded, it became more than just friendship it transformed into something deeper, an unexpected intertwining of our lives. And while the world outside continued spinning, we found solace in our familiarity, words unsaid weaving a narrative of affection and understanding.

Those moonlit strolls, joyful laughter, and even our clumsy moments became the threads that bound our hearts. As if fate had conspired to create a romantic script just for us, I looked into those expressive eyes my heart racing, knowing that I had fallen, irrevocably and beautifully in love with Hoshi.

So this was our love story a tale spun with humor, warmth, and a cascade of cute encounters. Beneath the gentle watch of the moon, my reality blended into a dream, making every moment spent with Hoshi a cherished memory, enveloped in tenderness.