#moonlit-myth

[666candies]

Gustave Dore (1832-1883), ‘A Midsummer’s Night Dream’, 1870

[shisasan]

Alluring Darkness by Aikurisu

[justaravingwritingdesk]

i don't know if mothy is a genius or a troll for making eve's item a spoon. was he just filling in some background details or was he doing it for the lolz? it's fun either way.

but still.

fairy godmother and harry potter have wands, merlin and gandalf have staffs/staves, the sandersons and yuno grinberryall have spellbooks/grimoires, evil queen and galadriel have magic mirrors, — but eve?

eve has an effing spoon. what is she, kadabra from pokemon? cuz i'm pretty sure she's no alakazam since she only has one spoon. she's got the psychic-type specs down pat, tho.

i dunno, i find it funny.

now that's an idea. eve with her trusty partner kadabra. speaking of which, isn't kadabra evolved from abra? and isn't abra one of those sleepy pokemon? my memory's rusty, but if that's accurate then it's a match made in heaven and hell.

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Chapter 2: Moonlit Memories

Narrated by Jiang Xitong.

Narrator: The venue was decorated in the manner of an ancient study, with a painting of the Lunar Goddess lying on a wooden desk.

Narrator: To its left is an exquisite jade paintbrush rack; to its right a sleek bamboo flute. Really adds to the atmosphere.

Narrator: A set worker approaches me with my outfit for the filming.

Narrator: The colors... and the patterns on the cuffs... I sigh. Whoever designed this doesn't know a thing.

Jiang Xitong: No, thanks.

Staff: But Director Jiang...

Jiang Xitong: I happen to have on me an outfit I designed recently. It'll fit this scenario perfectly.

Staff: I see. You're always prepared indeed.

Narrator: After I get changed, the director starts explaining my part to me.

Director: We know you're very busy, Ms. Jiang, so we decided to leave your parts 'til the end.

Director: Let's see... It's pretty simple. All you need to do is walk to the desk and pick up the painting. You'll be done in a jiffy.

Jiang Xitong: Thank you.

Narrator: I give the script a quick read. It's about the moon festival... the Lunar Goddess... and her bunny...

Narrator: A strange sentence catches my attention. I scowl.

Choose either "What's wrong?" or "Lunar Goddess and her bunny?"

If "wrong," ...

You: Is something in the script inaccurate?

Narrator: I wouldn't say it's a matter of accuracy.

If "bunny," ...

You: Lunar Goddess and her bunny? I think I've heard of that tale before.

Narrator: I really hope the tale you heard isn't anything like the version I'm seeing right now.

--

Director: Is there an issue with the script, Ms. Jiang?

Jiang Xitong: ...

Jiang Xitong: Let's just begin.

Narrator: Following the script, I read out my lines.

Jiang Xitong: "There are several versions when it comes to myths about the Lunar Goddess. I'm sure you've heard at least some of them."

Jiang Xitong: "But the most popular one of all is about the Lunar Goddess, her companion, the jade rabbit boy, and their... love affair?"

Narrator: I couldn't help stumbling over the term a bit.

Director: Well done! Continue.

Narrator: The director didn't even notice me cringe.

Narrator: I walk to the desk, following the script. The camera zooms in on the ancient Lunar Goddess painting.

Narrator: In the painting, the Goddess stands above a cloud, clad in a luxurious gown, a white rabbit in her arms.

Narrator: She wears a gentle smile, seeming to be graceful yet amiable. Looking at her, I suddenly recall the moment when I heard the story about the Lunar Goddess for the first time.

Narrator: It was when I used to snuggle up to my grandma on foggy, moonlit nights, demanding to be told stories.

Narrator: Grandma told me there was a goddess who lived on the moon. She helped bring messages between people who missed each other.

Narrator: She wore a soft, friendly yet awe-inspiring smile. It reminded me of the first time I heard the tale of the Lunar Goddess.

Narrator: "The moon is bright. Oh, how I yearn on this frosty night..."

Narrator: The moon in the clear sky is a symbol that represents the yearning people have for each other.

Narrator: It was how I imagined ancient Cloud Empire was like at first: a nation watched over by the moon.

Narrator: I couldn't find reliable records on the Lunar Goddess in any of the books I went through, but I knew I was getting close.

Narrator: So I really couldn't let this ridiculous "Lunar Goddess and bunny lover" thing go on.

Jiang Xitong: "In fact, myths aren't supposed to sound like tales of idle gossip."

Jiang Xitong: "Myths are evidence of history, of the beauty unique to a specific time period."

Narrator: That is what I said.

Staff: Huh?

Staff: I don't think that was in the script, Director...

Narrator: The crew began to whisper. I didn't even spare them a glance. Instead, I picked up the flute and played a tune.

Jiang Xitong: "In legends, the Lunar Goddess was an esteemed landowner back in ancient Cloud Empire."

Jiang Xitong: "During that era, songs with alternating lyric lengths were popular."

Jiang Xitong: "Many of such songs were therefore themed on the Lunar Goddess. Crescent Moon, the one I just played, for example..."

Narrator: The filming continued. The director didn't try to stop me.

Narrator: When I returned to the office, it was already time to get off work.

Choose "I thought you just needed to show up?"

You: I thought you just needed to show up?

Narrator: Yes, but I can't sit and watch Cloud Empire tradition be portrayed in such a way in a promotional video.

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

[lalunanymph]

MOONLIT DREAM

SUMMARY a budding jade aficionado receives a personal lesson from her lover

WARNINGS established relationship, outdoor sex, boat!sex, blasphemy, sensory deprivation (use of blindfolds), sensory play (with a brush), dirty talk, petnames (little love, little one), soft!zayne, orgasm control, edging, begging, fingering, dirty talk, marking, pulling out (zayne cums in his own hand cause he's a mf gentleman like that), astra hate, allusions to theories of zayne's myth, mdni, 18+

DAWN SAYS FIRST ONE IS HEREEE istg this event has me by the THROAT I know it isn't very canon-compliant but I wanted to do something based on the vibes I got from the cards so I hope you all enjoy this! I will eventually cross-post this to a03 so if you want to follow me there, it's under the same username! <3

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.�� .* :☆ﾟ. ─── SYLUS ⊱ XAVIER ⊱ RAFAYEL

The art of jade carving was slowly dying out.

Touted as a precious stone the color of rich grass, its value was placed not in its glossy, green finish, but on the weight of meaning it carried.

To gift someone a jade pendant meant you wished luck, prosperity and success on them. Mothers would often lend their sons their necklaces hidden in the lapels of their hanfu as they took their official tests, while a groom’s parents would adorn their new daughter-in-law with jade jewelry to bestow upon the newlywed couple blessings of marital bliss and harmony. 

On nights like these, you liked to wander these grand, opulent hallways, lost in thought as the glimmering green gems twinkled from ceilings, pillars and statues.

The moon was bright tonight as you caught sight of Zayne, a royal court physician your family had connections to. 

(And who was also, your secret-not-so-secret lover). 

He was struggling under the weight of his documents, and you rushed forward to greet him, calling out his name. 

“Y/N—there you are,” he gave you a small smile, warmth twinkling behind his green eyes. The sheen of them reminded you of how jade shone. “What’re you doing up so late? The moon is bright tonight.”

You flushed, gathering yourself before you divulge your deepest thoughts to him. “I was up till yesterday night trying to read up on jade carving. Did you know the practice is diminishing?”

Zayne, though not much of a man of the arts, could concede on your astute observation. “I see,” he teased, “And you thought that by devouring clips of them, you might have a chance to save this dying art?” 

Used to his teasing, you huffed and wagged your finger. “At least I am dedicated to a cause that matters. Tell me, Mr. Zayne, don’t you have a passion you want to protect, too?”

At your question, his eyes softened.

“Perhaps.” He glanced at the number of documents in his hand. “I have some summons to work on. Maybe you might like to keep me company and tell me all about your discoveries of jade carving while I work?”

The offer sounded too good to resist. You followed him down the hallway and into the vacant space—an unoccupied room linking right to the court library. It was connected by a veranda, where the man-made lake ran around it, a shallow body of water meant for aesthetic purposes commissioned by the emperor himself. A pile of scrolls laid on the shiny, mahogany desk, and you realized too late that you were in his private office.

“Zayne—”

While the idea of spending more time with him was intriguing, you couldn't risk a court scandal by being seen with a man at such late hours. He didn’t stop you when you stood, though the look in his eyes held you back from leaving too soon.

“It is fine, Y/N. I have checked for guards and there are none at this hour. Besides, aren’t we both past the boundaries of such careless affection?”

He grabbed your hand, and you let him tug you closer. Sitting in his embrace, you relished in the secrecy of your meetings under the moon, this hidden fondness belonging only to you two. 

“I wish to hold you forever like this.” Zayne was not someone who waxed lyrical about his feelings, but tonight felt different.

Far more intimate.

His touch echoed with shades of absolute need when he tilted your face up, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

“I have a surprise for you,” he whispered.

Intrigued, you let him take your hand, stepping out of the balcony and onto the connected veranda. You hadn’t immediately noticed a line of candles sat by the edge of the water, too caught up in his embrace. Zayne led you right to the makeshift dock where an ornate boat rocked in the man-made lake, stepping on its deck first before holding out a hand to you. 

Taking his familiar, calloused palm in yours, you lost your footing for a split second, tumbling right into his arms. 

“Oh—”

“I got you,” he murmured, righting you on your slippered-feet.

Zayne made sure you were alright and tightened his hand on yours, taking you into the anterior single cabin, where a smaller version of his desk stood, the light of the moon illuminating his warm cheeks.

“I thought we could spend some time here—away from any prying eyes.”

A smile spread across your face, delighting at this romantic and secluded initiative.

“I see. So, you have me trapped right in your hands while I ramble on about jade carving?”

You should have known your lover always had a special trick up his sleeve. He wasn’t called the brightest official without his uncanny knack for deciphering what it is people around him truly wanted.

“No.” 

He gestured for you to sit on the plush cushions, and removed a box from the side of the hull, opening it. Bringing out paint brushes, scrolls, newly minted jade pendants and glass bowls which he filled with water. Zayne let you touch them, enamored by your bright gaze and excitement.

"You... remembered?"

He smiled. "Of course, I did."

Touching your cheek, he said, "When your lover develops a fixation on something, you do your best to try and satisfy her."

Pleased and slightly flattered, you turned your attention to the rows of jade waiting for you.

“Are we sending our wishes to be carved on these pendants?” 

Fondly, he nodded.

“Yes. I thought this would be a great step in our courtship—to have our wishes bestowed on these jade jewels for us to wear. A memento of our love.”

You flashed him a smile so bright, it could rival the moon up above.

Sitting down next to him, Zayne watched as you dipped your brush in ink, slowly filling up the scroll with your earthly desires which the jade carver would put onto these pendants. 

I wish for Zayne to always be healthy and happy, you fluidly etched onto the paper. I wish for him to find success in court. To grow in his filial piety and strength. May he always be kind, courteous and brave.

Glancing at him, you were surprised to find him dozing off, elbow perched on the mahogany desk, head laid resting against a closed palm. The lights from the palace veranda and the moon in the sky played with the shadows on his face, making him look younger than his years of twenty-seven. The innocent curve of his brow, the slight parting of his thin lips, stirred a desire within you. 

A need to push him and see how much he could take before he broke.

Grinning to yourself, you picked up the prep calligraphy brush, still dripping with cool water, and gently ran the bristles over his lower lip. Zayne grunted in his doze, but didn’t stir, exhausted from his duties to pay your foolery any mind. You smirked, wondering if he would feel it when you dragged the brush down his jaw.

Still—nothing. 

Besides a furrow in his brow, Zayne remained locked in his slumber. A part of you wondered if the sensation felt akin to cool wind brushing his skin, and you decided to up the ante. 

Taking the brush down to his neck, this time you managed to garner a sweet, sweet visceral reaction from him. 

Zayne’s nose twitched, a sound of consternation and… desire?... leaving his lips. 

He sighed. You paused.

Tucking your lower lip in between your teeth, you took the brush now to the hollow dip of his collarbones. Another sigh, another baited breath.

But, he didn’t open his eyes.

Growing bolder, you glided the brush down the groove of his toned chest, mesmerized by the silvery trail of water left behind—a delicate mark of your teasing on his pale skin.

A part of you wanted to see what his entire body would look like ‘painted’ with these slick marks; your curiosity mingled with a stirring desire to have him completely under your spell. 

As you dragged the damp brush down to his chest, intent on finishing up your canvas for the night, you felt the gentle grasp of his hand around your wrist, stopping your descent from going any lower.

“I see I woke up at the wrong time,” he teased.

Whatever remained of his nightly exhaustion dissipated, his breathtaking green eyes gauging your reaction with the ghost of a smirk tugging the corners of his mouth. 

Zayne’s skin and lips were tingling from the effects of your little ‘painting session’.

As much as the hunger inside of him was roaring to overcome you, he wanted to see what you would do next; how else you would surprise him. 

Deciding to tease him even more, you dropped the calligraphy brush, hearing it roll onto the barge’s floor somewhere under the desk. You slid your fingers across his hand, feeling his touch gliding on your open palm.

“Carving jade requires a clear mind,” you murmured, your fingertips breaching the hem of his ornate cuffs, touching the warm skin of his wrist underneath the clothes. “This is a test.”

Zayne was not expecting you to tighten your grip on his wrist, or for you to boldly drag him on top of you. 

His gasp brushed the tender shell of your ear, the heat of his body on top of yours made you shiver.

“How bold you are, little one,” your lover murmured, settling on his elbow to gaze down at you, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “You are quite commendable indeed—getting a court official into such a… compromising position.”

The moon glowed, the broadness of his shoulders eclipsing its luminescent rays from fully spilling onto both your tangled bodies.

“I merely wanted to share my passions with a certain court official, but it appears he found the entire ordeal boring,” you quipped back, throwing in an eye roll for added effect. 

His thin lips twitched in amusement, the hand on your cheek moving down to briefly cup your jaw. “Alright, then. Why don’t we make your little session a bit more interesting for me?” 

Before you could ask, he took the discarded brush you had dropped, dipping it in a pot of water. Dabbing off the excess, he touched the firm tip to your cheek, his jade green eyes darkening with an unnamed emotion.

“You speak while I simply… listen... and return your little painting favor. Whoever can retain their composure without breaking first will win a month’s worth of rabbit candy.”

Not one to refute his games or back down from a dare, you raised a brow. “Are you questioning my resolve, Mr. Zayne?” 

He forced back a huff of laughter, trying to retain his equanimity. 

(Which was steadily chipping away the more you provoked him). 

Zayne hummed. “I do not question it. I want to test it.”

As he spoke, he glided the cool paintbrush from your cheek to jaw. “And to make this more fun for me since I have not heard of the intricacies of jade carving, I want to test your knowledge further with this—”

From his lapels, he removed a silk ribbon, one which you recognized to wrap up mooncake boxes. 

Flushing warmly from the implications of what he wanted to do next, you attempted to keep your voice steady, but failed.

“Playing dirty, Mr. Zayne? I never mistook you for such a bad sport.”

A glimmer of mischief ignited in his eyes, and he placed the paintbrush down next to your neck, coaxing you to raise your head so he could wrap the soft strip around your eyes.

“You are always testing my resolve. You should know I always repay the favor.” 

Despite the intensity of his request, a playful intimacy remained between the two of you. Whatever happened, you always trusted Zayne to put your wellbeing and dignity above everything else.

“Alright.” 

You raised your head, letting him tie the makeshift blindfold around your eyes. 

Hidden in darkness, you could only rely on your senses of touch and hearing to guide you on what was happening. You heard the rustle of the paintbrush picked up again by your ear, felt the damp tip on your jaw. Zayne glided the brush down the side of your neck, secretly enjoying your quiet gasp of surprise.

“Now, little one,” he hummed. “Tell me all about the intricacies of jade carving since you know them so very well.”

Your heart was pounding, but you managed to keep your calm when you recited the first fact to pop into your mind. 

“U-um… j-jades were known as the ‘essence of heaven and earth’.” Your gasp melted into a stifled moan at the sensation of his warm lips chasing after the cool trickles of water left behind.

“I see. Enlightening. Do tell me more.”

His husky voice brushed the shell of your ear, and your stomach tightened in knots. 

Unfair. Zayne was unfairly using your weakness against you.

He knew you were always sensitive to his kisses; his touch. 

A bead of clear water trickles down your neck, and you struggle to think of the next fact as his lips follow the winding trail the liquid carved along your skin, each kiss soft and deliberate.

“Jade has a sharp resonance and that is why it was often used as chimes—mhm.”

He nuzzled his nose into your pulse point, inhaling the sweet scent of jasmine from your skin. 

“I am listening,” he reassured, and you could imagine the smirk playing on his lips. “And I am interested. What else is there for me to learn about jade, little one?”

As you fought hard to recall another fact, your hands instinctively tightened, crumpling the soft material of his hanfu in your grasp. 

“With n-new drilling tools, jade can now be made in larger scales of production—”

The sensation of bristles on your skin interrupted your train of thought. Nothing could have prepared you for the sting of his teeth biting down on your neck. Zayne’s heated breath caressed your sensitive throat, leaving goosebumps on your skin in their wake. 

“I think I have quite the knowledgeable grasp on this matter, little one.”

In a swift yet gentle motion, the blindfold melted off your eyes, and you caught Zayne gazing down at you affectionately. 

The damp brush and these damn games were discarded to the side in favor of him dragging you onto his lap, letting you sit astride him. 

Warmth suffused across your cheeks, and your entire body was tingling from the sensation of the rough bristles mingling with the contrasting tenderness of his lips on your skin. You felt the tension tightening in your belly, tensing the muscles on your thighs wrapped on either side of his waist.

Zayne took this opportunity to roam his hands across your back, down your sides—feeling the smoothness of your robe underneath his touch; the way you shivered as if caught in a chill.

“Are you afraid?” 

His gentle whisper was followed by a sweet kiss on your temple.

Yearning sparked from the tips of your fingers down to your toes.

You shook your head.

“No, Zayne.” 

Smiling to himself, Zayne cradled your head in his hands, nudging you further up the plush pillows he prepared for tonight. The sight of you, all sprawled out with the warm palace lights and the shining moon illuminating your flushed cheeks, looking far too ravishing for your own good filled his mind with a light-headed daze.

He couldn’t believe you were here, that you were his. 

A low grumble resonated from his chest, and he pressed his lips to your ear, delighting in your little shiver in response.

“You have to forgive me, little one. I cannot control myself when I am with you.”

His traced circles onto your cheek with his thumb, absorbing your hitched breath, the way your body shifted under his broader, muscular one. 

As he spoke, he planted a tender kiss on your cheek. 

“It is not my fault that someone gets distracted easily when carving intricate patterns… and appreciating the moon.” 

He pressed another soft kiss to your temple, worshiping you with his entire soul. 

Never mind that the bright lunar rays were burning into his skin. Or, he felt the unseeing eye studying his every move. 

All that mattered to him in this instant was you—your sounds, your sighs, the look of desire and love in your eyes. 

It was everything and more that Zayne could wish on his fallen luck. He wanted nothing more than to claim you under his god’s eye, defying logic and order to demonstrate his undying love for you. 

“Are you feeling what I am feeling as well, my little love?”

He looked to you for confirmation.

Consent.

You nodded wordlessly, threading your fingers through his hair.

“Yes, Zayne. I feel it.”

That was all the permission he needed. Zayne leaned in and captured your lips in a heated kiss, his desire for you pouring into every movement. Every breath. 

He needed to make you his completely; needed to love you with his entire being. 

His lips touched your ear again, his scratchy whisper igniting your desires. His nimble fingers, deft from years of practiced writing and studies, twined with yours, holding you impossibly close.

Another tender kiss right on your cheek. “Then we will just have to blame the craftsman… and the moon.”

Careful yet firm hands shed your robes from your body, the rocking boat adding momentum to your every movement. Zayne took his time to undress you, marveling as inches of flawless, moon-soaked skin appeared before his eyes. Taking his time to run his fingers over your body, he breathed you in, his eyes fluttering to half-mast as he savored this moment of peace. 

When your body was fully bared to him, he sucked in a deep breath.

“Beautiful,” he mumbled.

Zayne’s hands roamed your body with a newfound possessiveness, his expression a mix of tender yearning.

The sight itself was too much for you to bear; the shame, lust, and need coalescing together to bring you to your knees. 

You tugged him closer, unable to stand another minute apart from him. 

He fell right into your embrace, your eager hands undoing the loop of his hanfu, baring his full chest, dragging it down his shoulders. 

The act of undressing one another, meant for the marital doings of a husband and wife, felt natural when it came to Zayne.

Such love shared between the two of you sprung forth like a fountain, effortless in cascading your bodies in ebbs and flows. Zayne kissed you like you would disappear if he opened his eyes, his lips soft and tender against yours.

It made your heart full to bursting, overwhelmed by the love of it all.

Taking the lead, Zayne helped to reposition you on his lap, this new angle allowing you to control what came next.

The moon was his unwilling accomplice, painting you in the most alluring light. Its rays shone brightly, illuminating the brightness of your hair, your skin.

You gleamed like treasured jade right in his arms, and Zayne would never let you go again. Not in this life, or the next.

You were his to treasure, to hold. To cherish and love—his obedience to Astra be damned.

He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, bringing you into his arms; feeling you lift your hips and gingerly take him. The tightness of you, enveloping him slowly, drove him mad with need.

But, Zayne reined his lust in, focused on your pleasure. He would never do anything to hurt you; all he desired for was to see you happy. 

You are doing so well, he praised, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks. Good girl. That’s it—go on and make yourself feel good.

Emboldened by his praise, you braced your hands on his chest, wincing at the stretch. 

It wasn’t the first time you had taken him, your months of courtship blooming into a rapid need of each other.

But, it was the first time you were doing it so publicly, boldly declaring your claim on one another.

If anyone walked by, word would soon reach the wrong people of this escapade. But, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

You wanted Zayne, needed him like you needed air.

He was as enamored as you were, watching you take him. 

You were a vision above him, a moonlit dream he could only wish to hold onto for the rest of his life.

“You truly are the most beautiful sight I have ever seen,” he breathed, placing his palm on your cheek. The melted look of devotion in his eyes was second to how secure and safe he made you feel.

With Zayne, nothing was closed off or too much—everything was in order, right and sweet as it was meant to be.

Your head lolled back, the pleasure taking center stage to this act of consummation burning your veins.

“Zayne… you feel so good…”

The sound of his lover’s praise drove him into a frenzy, and he let his immaculate self-restraint slip; giving into the vulnerability. 

Zayne’s beautiful emerald eyes glimmered, taking in the heavenly sight of your smooth skin, your hard nipples carving a silhouette of erotic desire in the barely-lit night. 

He leaned up to gently run his tongue over them, trailing goosebumps across your chest. You moaned, lost in the haze of the pleasure, putty to his whims.

“I cannot believe you all mine…” His voice broke, trailing off into awe. 

Dedicated to showing you his entire devotion, Zayne let his innermost thoughts flow freely. 

“The way the moon shines upon you… the luster of your hair in the night… gods above, you feel like a fever dream, my love.”

A soft whimper left your kiss-swollen lips. Zayne ran his thumb over your lower lip. 

“Do you feel it?” His breath is heavy and desire-filled.

He could not wait to see you coming undone for him.

“How much do I belong to you?” Infused with yearning, his words made you tremble. “I am all yours tonight. I want to give you everything you desire.”

Zayne…

He grunted, the sound of his name on your lips a glimpse of heaven opening up.

Sweat beaded on his brow, a droplet trailing from between your breasts to roll down towards where you were connected.

Zayne halted its path with his tongue, lapping at it gently. He ran his tongue over the curve of your jaw, across your pulse point—stopping to nip and suck the tender flesh until he was sure the marks of his affection would bloom upon your skin.

The idea of anyone taking one look at you and immediately deducing you belonged to him drove him wild with desire.

He wanted to mark you, inside and out.

You belonged to him and no one else.

Not to the world, not to your people or your books.

But, to him.

And he belonged to you. 

The moon rays seemed to blister his skin, an angry curse waiting to consume him whole. But, Zayne didn’t care for the warning, making a mockery of his god by claiming his beloved right under His light.

He brought you in for a tender kiss, just as your walls shuddered around him. 

The romantic atmosphere, the way his tender gaze bore into your soul… was all too much for you to hold back.

But, before you could come undone, Zayne stilled your hips, a pinch on his brow.

He captured your lips in a heated kiss, one which silenced your moans and protests, giving you what you longed for.

Zayne picked up his pace, surprising you with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“That look on your face,” he murmured huskily. “I love it. I love when you rely on me to come undone, my love.”

Your toes curled, his heated words making a shiver of need run down your spine.

“Zayne…”

Yes, my love. He moved his hand between your thighs, teasing you with delicate circles on your flushed nub.

What is it you desire?

“You.” 

He smirked, hearing the desire and need in your tone.

“You have me.”

The ball of heat tightening in your belly demanded to be released.

No… I need you in a different way.

In what way? He raised a brow, looking irresistibly smug. 

Your lover intended for you to say it out loud. To tell him explicitly what it is you needed.

Wetting your lips, you shifted your hips, feeling the head of his length graze your sweet spot.

You winced, and murmured, I need you to make me come undone. 

But, Zayne was adamant on drawing out your needs.

“Just a little longer,” he promised. “I swear it will feel better once it is drawn out.”

You trusted him, letting him take his time.

“You’re pleasing me so well tonight, my love,” he praised in a soft voice, the look of devotion in his eyes never wavering. “I think I can give you what you are yearning for…”

However, his promises came with a caveat: 

“Only if you beg for it nicely.”

A jolt of arousal sparked through your bloodstream, tightening your walls around him.

Zayne grunted, his composure hanging by a loose thread.

The circles on your clit grew sloppier, a sign of his unraveling.

You couldn’t hold back the need any longer, digging your nails into his shoulders.

“Please…” your thin whisper illuminated the dark interior of the barge. 

Please, Zayne. I need this… I need you…

Not one to push his beloved too hard, Zayne relented instantly; his chest swelling with pride at your obedient response.

Surging forward, he wrapped a hand around your waist, bringing you down onto the plush pillows as he took over.

Undulating his hips, he felt you falling apart underneath him—your toes curling, fingers lacing through his hair, tugging hard. 

Already coming undone? I can feel your control slipping, my love…

Yes, yes. You chanted, squeezing your eyes shut. 

Languidly nuzzling your neck, Zayne’s command was a heated whisper into your ear.

I know you need this—I can feel how much you need it. Let go, my love. 

It was the permission you needed. In an instant, you spilled over, following his command, always his obedient, sweet lover. 

He worked you through your contractions, feeling your entire body tensing under his touch. His cock splitting your walls over and over again drove you to the peak of your second release, and Zayne took pride in how you dug your heels into his lower back, crying out his name.

The official didn’t care who would be hearing; if the universe would conspire later to end him for his disobedience.

He couldn't think about anything else, not when you slumped into his arms, his voice a low hum; mumbling reassurances into the hollow of your throat. 

Careful to pull out and release into his own palm, Zayne didn’t care for your muffled outcry. He wouldn’t dare besmirch your body with his seed inside or out—prioritizing your dignity above all else.

The dark-haired man was careful to wipe his release on a spare silk handkerchief he brought onto the barge, taking another one to wipe the mess you made between your thighs.

Sated and glowing from your release, you let him work on you, quietly enjoying the devotion in his eyes and touch. 

Zayne’s smile was soft and hazy as he pulled you on top of him, letting your head rest on his chest. 

Longer, sturdier and calloused fingers traced patterns on your back, watching how the moon shone through the slanted windows, drawing shadows over the expanse of your skin.

His arms wrapped tightly around, pulling you deeper into his embrace, unwilling to let go. 

Outside the boat, a storm began to brew, dark clouds closing in and concealing the moon from sight. 

The balminess of the night gave way to a blessed, cooling drizzle, enveloping the boat much like his arms, keeping you safe and grounded. 

With the light of the moon extinguished, the glow of your smile became the brightest thing in the night as you leaned in, cradling his face, 

“Are you alright?” he asked softly. 

His love for you shone brighter than any celestial being could, limitless and profound, as he lost himself in the warmth of your touch.

“I am perfect.”

Not one to give him a moment of peace, you cheekily quipped:

"So, does this mean you are giving me a month's supply of rabbit candy?"

Zayne's eyes twinkled, and he chuckled, shaking his head at your question.

"If I recall," he turned you over, pinning you back onto the pillows, desire alighting his usually stoic and steady gaze.

"It was not I whose composure wavered, my little one."

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost on other websites and claim as your own. do not feed my content to AI.

[empty-vessel-of-a-person]

Are LaDS Men V!rg!n Pre-Relationship with MC in LaDS present timeline?

Note: This is a personal take and observation in the LaDS men memories, short stories, phone call, messages, and etc. Nothing is confirmed by Infold and I maybe wrong/missed something from their memories. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Zayne - Yes

This is easy and Zayne confirms it himself. He mentioned that MC is his only experience. Although they are not romantically involve when they were still kids, (I strongly stress on this one as some creep send an anon message to me before that it is creepy to think that they have relationship pre-LaDS present timeline. Well They are not in a relationship. So hold your horses) I feel like he is strongly bound to her emotionally.

The need to protect her is strongly etched to him. Remember the wonderer attack when they are still kids?(Source: Nostalgic Sweetness) He wanted to cheer her up by freezing her melted popsicle. It maybe a crush or puppy love (whatever you wanted to call it) But this is his pure affection towards MC and he take it until he is an adult.

By the time they are reunited, they were awkward with each other but MC is the first one to show affection. She told him to not disappear again and constantly look up for him. I firmly believe that MC has crush with Zayne too because she remembers him well even with a blotchy memory.

Xavier - NO!!!

Before you kill me, just hear me out. Xavier's age is virtually unknown. For one, they never revealed it and two, Jeremiah was even uncomfortable about the topic of Xavier's age (source: Celestial Message). But who do I think he is been with? I Highly suspect that it is MC herself.

So how is his age and MC been related on him not to be a virgin, you say? Think about it this way, back when they Philos, it seems like (I feel like) he was already in a relationship with MC. That star ornament that MC is bothered about was from her (again not confirmed). And this previous/forgotten lifetime (by MC) they have already done it. Why else will he be so comfortable having very spicy and intimate time with her?

One of also the indication of them being intimate in the previous life was his being territorial with MC. He sometimes get a bit of Yandere vibe (I not really sure it its the correct type of dere to label him) but he kinds of a little bit rough when handling people who got overly close to MC. (Source: Myth and Celestial Message.)

Among all the LaDS men, he and Sylus shows sign in knowing what to do during the intimate moments.

Rafayel - Yes

Despite his flirty and confident demeanor, this baby is really a big baby! Don't get me wrong, he is not that innocent, he knows the deed (Source: gem Affection, Omnipotent perception, Your Fragrance, and Ebb and Flow) But he does not do the did, at least not yet.

Unlike Zayne and MC, who clearly hinted spending the night together (Source: Business Trip, Snowy Serenity, Hidden Motive and Moonlit Dream) Rafayel and MC after the kindled moment seems to be sleeping apart or Rafayel was out of the room or was fully dressed already (source: before Sunrise)

Some may argue that they already did it on "Gem Affection", they perhaps did, but what I'm infinitely having a debate with myself is, how Rafayel is kinda Distant again by "Into the Canvas". I don't mean distant physically, but him and MC is still do not seem in a relationship. They do not communicate well to establish plans in meeting up and he was just kinda following her around.

In the "Tailwag Moment" he was shocked and shy when he nuzzles MC. True it was kinda heated, but if you are already physically intimate with someone (specially guys) the awkward moment and hesitation to touch your lover disappears.

I also don't believe that Rafayel is a friends-with-benefit type of guy. This man is so devoted to MC and search for her when she disappears.

Sylus - Not Sure

Since Sylus was still fairly new compared to the other men, I do not have a strong assumption on whether he is a virgin or not. But if you ask how I personally feel about him, I will say yes, he is a virgin.

From here on out is just assumptions base on his current known memories.

Despite being rough and how he manhandles MC, he is actually giving me an Edward Cullen Vibe (OLD SCHOOL VIBE) Oh my gosh! I am old. Like Edward, Sylus have some heated moments with MC (mainly on Secret Times). Yes they are spicy, but it never really hinted that they pass more than heated make out.

We are also yet to see him kiss MC on the lips. And although, he already kiss her in the head, this is after he gave her a ring. (Thinking about a Victorian Type of Courting) He take her to dates, bring her food, give her flowers, and going on rides. I applaud Infold for creating Sylus as a guy who is mostly rough but he definitely have a sweet side.

He worries about MC, hum while cooking, and taking selfies with her.

I have mentioned this before in my previous entry, But Sylus never inappropriately touch MC. True he like to carry MC but never lays a hand in any parts of her other than her wrist. He also doesn't initiate her or gauge her into touching him.

His relationship with MC is Definitely HOT but not yet intimate.

As for previous partners, I don't think he have any as he is looking for MC as well.

[chibinasuu]

Ghost Ship | Straw Hats x Reader

★ requested by @supernatural-hunter1 (see here)

Summary: There’s no need to fear Davy Jones and his ship of ghosts. After all, it’s just a myth… or is it? Tags: sfw, platonic straw hats x reader, GN!reader, no use of y/n

Disclaimer: There are many myths and legends about Davy Jones and the Flying Dutchman, but the one here is my reimagined version, borrowing elements from One Piece’s Flying Dutchman lore (Fishman Island Arc, ch. 606) and some from the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise. 

It was a festive night onboard the Thousand Sunny. 

Earlier, the Captain of the Straw Hat Pirates had begged the cook to prepare a feast tonight, without any reasons whatsoever. The cook was hesitant at first, as he was not one to use excessive ingredients when unnecessary, but with the last of the fresh supplies they got at Water 7 on the brink of losing their quality, Sanji had relented and cooked up an extravagant banquet for the crew. 

Not wanting to waste a beautiful moonlit night, the Straw Hats set up picnic blankets on the Sunny’s lawn deck to enjoy their dinner. Franky had busted out his ukulele, playing a cheery tune that transformed the quiet night into a lively one. A portable metal fire pit sat in the center of the lawn, the flames providing light and warmth as the crew partied the night away. 

It was not uncommon for this particular crew that a night of drinking would evolve into a night of daring each other to do stupid things. Luffy’s face was currently caked with Nami’s makeup, Zoro and Sanji were reluctantly interlocking hands as per Robin’s dare, and Chopper had one of Franky’s (clean) underwear strung between his antlers. The dares were getting more and more ridiculous as the game went on, to the point where Usopp had just challenged you to skinny-dip off the side of the ship. One glance over the railing at the dark, cold, and uninviting waters had you sitting back down on the deck. 

“Yeah, right,” You scoffed and downed a shot in lieu of doing the dare, “That’d get me sent straight to Davy Jones’ locker!”

“Whose what now?” Usopp asked with his head tilted in confusion, the phrase unfamiliar to his ears.

It was such a common saying in the South Blue, where you were from, that you just blurted it out unthinkingly. There were no Southern seafarers who didn’t know about the mythical pirate Davy Jones and his ship full of ghosts. 

“The Davy Jones’ locker.” You repeated matter-of-factly. Surprisingly, none of your crewmates seemed to show even a hint of recognition. You eyed them one by one, but all of them sported similar blank looks, “Oh c’mon, Davy Jones? The Flying Dutchman? Ring a bell?”

“Robin, you must know it.” You turned to the archaeologist, certain that she must have read about the legend before in one of her books, but she merely shook her head.

“No way,” you looked at your crew in disbelief, “And you call yourselves pirates?”

“Hey!” Luffy protested indignantly, “What’s a flying locker got to do with being a pirate?” 

“Huh,” you shrugged, “Guess the story’s only popular in South Blue then.”

“Ooh, a story?” Chopper leaned forward toward you in anticipation, “I wanna hear it!”

“Alright then, listen up.” You looked at your friends with a sly smile, “But beware, this tale is not for the fainthearted.”

You started the story, lowering your voice in a mediocre attempt to sound spooky, “Hundreds and hundreds of years ago, a pirate crew was sailing on troubled waters when its captain – by the name of Davy Jones – suddenly fell ill and lost his mind. He killed his whole crew, chucking them off the ship one by one into the angry sea.”

Robin’s eyes sparkled with intrigue, while Zoro looked unbothered, but was listening intently nonetheless. Luffy was munching on some meat, only half paying attention. Franky had put down his ukulele, and Sanji took a long drag of his cigarette, eyes never straying away from you. Usopp, Nami, and Chopper had started to huddle together, never ones to enjoy scary stories. 

“When he came to, Davy Jones realized what terrible deed he had done and blamed the gods for his madness, throwing curses at the rulers of the seas and the skies.”

The silence that now shrouded the chilly night only added to the tense atmosphere, broken just by the low whistle of the winds against the sails and the faint crash of the waves against the hull. No one dared breathe a word to interrupt as you continued your tale. 

“The gods were furious and punished Davy Jones to roam the seas for eternity aboard his ship, the Flying Dutchman, doomed to ferry the souls of those lost to the sea to the world beyond, far deep through the oceanic abyss, which sailors came to know as the Davy Jones’ locker.”

Unbeknownst to the crew, a shroud of unnatural mist has started to surround the ship. Its tendrils snaked through the gaps and crevices, slowly infiltrating the deck.

“They say the Flying Dutchman still roams the seas to this day, never able to make port.” You paused for dramatic effect, “People say, that if you’re unlucky enough to encounter it, you could hear the lost souls onboard the ghost ship sing; Dead men tell no tales, dead men have no desires. Dead men don’t need jewels on their–”

“ENOUGH!!” Usopp yelled, covering his ears, “That’s enough, I don’t want to hear it anymore!”

By this point, the fog had gotten so thick that it was impossible not to notice. The crew was suddenly overcome with a sense of dread, goosebumps creeping on their skin.

“Wh-what is this mist?!” Nami shrieked, “What’s happening?! I don’t like this!”

Zoro and Sanji stood up, whipping their heads around in search of enemies or threats, but nothing emerged from within the murk. Nami and Usopp were now clinging to each other, screaming their heads off when suddenly, Chopper pointed at something in the distance and squealed, “Wh-wh-what’s that?!”

A silhouette of an old, rickety vessel materialized from beyond the mist, sailing head-on toward the Thousand Sunny. Its tattered sails swayed in the winds, a faded glow cloaking its body. 

Screams of panic filled the air as Usopp, Nami, and Chopper ran around in terror.

“That’s it, I’m going inside! You guys deal with that!” Nami exclaimed, rushing towards the safety of the sleeping quarters.

“Oi, Nami, wait for me!” Usopp ran after her, Chopper closely following behind, “Can I sleep in the girls’ room tonight?!”

“Nah, man.” Zoro shook his head, “Give me monsters or devils, and I’ll fight them. But, I don’t fuck with things I can’t cut with my swords.” He said before hightailing it to the boys’ quarters.

Sanji stammered that he was “definitely not scared of ghosts, unlike the cowardly mosshead” but claimed that he wanted to make some midnight snacks and speed-walked to the kitchen. The mere mention of a midnight snack had Luffy following Sanji like a puppy, all thoughts of ghosts or whatever vanishing from his mind, and so he too, was gone. 

With most of the Straw Hats cowering inside, the deck was once again plunged into a thick silence as the mysterious ship crept closer and closer.

A sudden slow clap permeated the stillness.

You looked behind you to see Robin smiling knowingly, “Incredible.” She chuckled, addressing you and the only other remaining Straw Hat on deck, “How did you two do it?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Robin.” You deflected unconvincingly, trying to hold back a smile.

“Yeah, Robin, what do you mean?” Franky added with a cheeky grin, “That’s totally a real ghost ship comin’ right at us.” 

“Alright, keep your secrets.” Robin said with a laugh, “I’m going to bed. Make sure you clean up nicely, hm?”

Once Robin was out of sight, Franky offered his big metal hand to you, and you slapped it in an enthusiastic high-five. The two of you broke out in laughter, ecstatic at the success – for the most part – of your harmless but elaborate prank. 

“Ah, that was a good one.” He sighed, wiping a stray tear from his eye, “Did you see their faces?” 

You grinned at him, “I thought we fooled everyone, but Robin’s a tough one, isn’t she?”

“She’s super smart,” Franky laughed, “I knew from the beginning that she wouldn’t buy it.”

He took out a remote from his shirt pocket and pushed the big red button on it. Instantly, the mirage of the ghost ship disappeared as the light projector hidden inside the lion figurehead’s mouth was deactivated. The smoke machines mounted through the side portholes also died down, and the thick fog surrounding the ship gradually dissipated. 

Since no one was around anymore, you and Franky took up the job of cleaning up the lawn, considering it as a way to make up for the fright you gave the rest of the crew. You stacked the dirty plates, gathered all the empty booze bottles, and folded up the blankets. The big, yellow moon provided ample brightness even as Franky killed the fire. 

“Franky,” You called out as you noticed something in the horizon, “I thought you shut off the machine.”

“Yeah, I did.” The cyborg replied without even looking at you, still focused on cleaning the fire pit. 

A chill of uneasiness ran through you at his answer, “Then… what’s that?”

Franky looked up at your shaky voice and turned to the front of the ship, eyes bulging in shock at what met his sight. 

A curtain of thick, black fog coated the ocean and sky ahead, swallowing the stars from the sky and plunging the waters into total darkness, where no moonlight reached it.

And the Sunny was sailing right at it. 

You and Franky could only stare at the unfathomable phenomenon as you stood frozen side-by-side.

“Oh, we are super fucked, aren’t we?”

a/n: bonus points if you got what the thick fog at the end was supposed to be! anyway, i had so much fun writing this!! it might be a bit early for a halloween post but i hope you all enjoyed this silly little fic nonetheless 🧡

[novaursa]

can you please write something with the reader being the queen of a far away kingdom that is kinda similar to the targaryen house but instead of dragons they have elike either magic or something. and reader ends up befriending rhaenyra which has the reader being a very powerful ally and the greens notice this , with alicent still wanting to steal the throne but otto is like “…nahhhh” , so rhaenyra becomes queen with the reader there and just standing all badass and stuff kinda comedic if you can please

The Witch Queen

- Summary: You arrive from faraway land to aid Rhaenyra before her rightful claim is stolen.

- Paring: female!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Note: This might be slightly darker than you asked for, but the spooky season vibes guided me with this one. I hope you still like it, dear anon. 🙂

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Next part: long live the queen

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The wind carried a sharp, briny scent from the sea as your ship glided through the dark waters toward the docks of King's Landing, its shadow stretching ominously beneath the moonlit sky. The black sails of your fleet billowed against the midnight horizon, a ghostly procession that had gone unnoticed until now. No banners heralded your arrival, no horns sounded from the walls of the Red Keep. The city slept in ignorance of the storm you had brought.

At your side, your court stood with heads held high, their violet eyes gleaming in the moonlight, their pale, silver-gold hair swept back in intricate braids that mirrored your own. House Tyvarella was not accustomed to formalities that belonged to lesser kings or the pious men of Westeros. You were the Queen of a realm far older than this one, a survivor of Valyria’s doom, and there was no need for permission to make yourself known.

As you stepped onto the cobblestones, the whispers from the shadows began to ripple. The common folk had heard the tales—stories of your house, the blood mages of Tyvarella, feared even by those who once tamed dragons. To those of the Faith of the Seven, you were a creature from their darkest myths, a figure woven into the very fabric of their nightmares. And now, you were here, at the heart of their crumbling kingdom.

“The night brings ill omens,” Otto Hightower muttered, his hands wringing in that nervous, meticulous way of his. He stood by a flickering torchlight, watching as your procession marched through the streets toward the Red Keep. His face was pale, his eyes narrowed in a mixture of wariness and disgust. “They come as vultures, Alicent, like specters summoned by death itself. We need to leave, now.”

Alicent Hightower, now Dowager Queen, stood by his side, her delicate fingers gripping the edges of her gown as if holding herself together. Her emerald eyes, though wary, flickered with a strange curiosity as she gazed at your retinue. “They were not expected, not invited… What are they doing here?”

“Nothing good, I assure you,” Otto responded with grim certainty. “King Viserys is dead. They arrive just as his breath fades. They bring with them blood magic and ruin. If we stay—”

A distant sound cut through the air, carried on the wind—the solemn toll of bells echoing across the city. Viserys was gone. The king had breathed his last.

Alicent's breath hitched as the realization washed over her. Her husband, the father of her children, the king, was dead. And here you stood, arriving at this precise moment, as if heralding the change to come.

But her eyes strayed, flickering toward the upper windows of the Red Keep. Through the torch-lit chambers, she caught a glimpse of another figure—Rhaenyra. The Princess had been kept behind, confined within the castle after that last bitter feast Viserys had demanded, the one after Vaemond Velaryon met his end.

Rhaenyra stood by the window now, her gaze drawn irresistibly to you. Alicent noticed it in an instant, the way her rival, her stepdaughter, leaned closer to the glass, watching your every movement with a deep, unspoken longing. Rhaenyra’s eyes were fixed on you, even from this distance, her expression one of unmistakable hunger and fascination.

“Do you see that?” Alicent whispered, her voice tight. “She… she looks at her.”

Otto followed her gaze, his lips tightening. “Rhaenyra’s drawn to power,” he said dismissively, though a hint of concern tugged at his tone. “It’s in her blood. But this... this is different. Tyvarella’s magic is ancient, forbidden. If she aligns herself with them, it will be disastrous.”

Alicent felt a wave of unease roll through her, but before she could respond, the heavy gates of the Red Keep groaned open, and you stepped inside. The room fell into a hush, as if the very stones of the castle were holding their breath. You entered without ceremony, your violet eyes scanning the gathering of lords and courtiers, none of whom dared meet your gaze directly.

And then, you saw her.

Rhaenyra.

She descended the grand staircase, her silken black gown flowing behind her like the wings of a raven. Her silver hair glowed in the candlelight, and her lips were parted ever so slightly, as if tasting the air between you. The tension in the room coiled tight, palpable.

When your eyes met hers, the world seemed to fall away.

You had seen her before, of course. But this… this was different. Here, in this moment of death and turmoil, the connection between you felt like a thread of fire, burning through the distance between you both. Her breath hitched as she came to stand before you, her gaze never leaving yours.

“Y/N,” Rhaenyra whispered, her voice soft yet carrying a weight that pulled at something deep inside of you. “You came.”

“I did,” you replied, your voice steady, though the sight of her stirred something untamed within you. “I came as soon as I sensed it. Viserys is gone, and now… the realm will fall to chaos.”

Her lips tightened into a thin line, pain flashing in her eyes at the mention of her father, but she didn’t look away. “They’ll come for me. For my children.”

“And they’ll have to go through me first.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes darkened at your words, the weight of your promise settling over her like a shield. Her hand, pale and trembling, reached out ever so slightly, as if testing the waters between you. And then, without another word, she placed it in yours.

A murmur spread through the room. Alicent stiffened where she stood, her face pale as the dawn.

Otto watched in silence, his mind already racing, already calculating. He knew what this meant. He knew that your presence here was more than a disruption. It was a declaration.

“We should have left when we had the chance,” he muttered, just loud enough for Alicent to hear. “Now it’s too late.”

Rhaenyra squeezed your hand, her fingers warm despite the cool air. “Will you stay?”

Your lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “For as long as you need me.”

[humansofnewyork]

(1/54) “We begin in darkness. A siren screams. The invaders come from the desert in a cloud of dust. The king gathers his army at a mountain castle. A single battle decides our fate. The battle burns, the din of drums, the clash of axes, the spark of swords. The dirt turns clay with blood. The sun goes down on a fallen flag. The day is lost. The king is gone. Our people are left defenseless. The only weapon we have left is our voice. So they come for our words. Scholars are murdered, books are burned, entire libraries are turned to dust. Until nothing remains. Not even memories of who we were. Silence. The sun comes up on a knight galloping across the land. He summons the teachers, the scholars, the authors, the thinkers. He tells them to gather the words that remain: the books, the scrolls, the letters, the verses. Everything that escaped the burning pits. Then he summons the sages. The keepers of our oldest myths, from before the written word. He copies their stories onto the page. Then when all has been gathered, all of the words, only then does he summon a poet. It had to be a poet. Because poetry is music. It sinks into the memory. And in this land of endless war, the only safe library is the memory of the people. It is said that at any given time there are one hundred thousand poets in Iran, but only one is chosen. A single poet, for a sacred mission. Put it all in a poem. Everything they’re trying to destroy. The entire story of our people. Our kings. Our queens. Our castles. Our banquets. Our songs and celebrations. Our goblets filled with wine. Our roasted kebabs. Our moonlit gardens. Our caravans of riches: silken carpets, amber, musk, goblets filled with diamonds, goblets filled with rubies, goblets filled with pearls. Our mountains. Our rivers. Our soil. Our borders. Our battles. Our crumbled castles. Our fallen flags. Our blood. Who we were. Who we were! Our culture. Our wisdom. Our choices. And our words. All of our words. Three thousand years of words, a castle of words! That no wind or rain will destroy! However long it takes, put it all in a poem. All of Iran, in a single poem. A torch to rage against the night! A voice to echo in the dark.” 

در تاریکی آغاز می‌کنیم. بانگ آژیری برمی‌خیزد. غارتگران بیابانی در هاله‌ای از گرد و غبار فرا می‌رسند. شاهنشاه سپاهیانش را پیرامون کاخی کوهستانی گرد می‌آورد. تک‌نبردی سرنوشت‌ساز است. سوزندگی‌های نبرد، بانگ کوس و درا‌ها، چکاچاک تبرها، درخشش شمشیرها. خاکِ آغشته به خون گِل می‌شود. خورشید درفش افتاده‌‌ را به شب می‌سپارد. نبرد از دست رفته است. پادشاه نیز رفته است. و مردمان بی‌دفاع مانده‌اند. اینک سخن، تنها جنگ‌افزار ماست. زین روست که بر واژگان‌مان می‌تازند. دانشمندان را می‌کشند، کتاب‌ها را می‌سوزانند، کتابخانه‌ها را با خاک یکسان می‌کنند آنچنان که هیچ نمانَد. حتا یادمانی از آن که بوده‌ایم. خاموشی. خورشید بر سواری که در سرتاسر زمین می‌تازد ‌پرتوافشان است. اوست که آموزگاران را فرا می‌خواند، دانشمندان را، نویسندگان را، اندیشمندان را. و از آنان می‌خواهد تا همه‌ی واژگانِ بازمان��ه را فراهم آورند. کتاب‌ها، طومارها، نامه‌ها، سروده‌‌ها. و هر آنچه از شراره‌های سوزان آتش دور مانده است. آنگاه فرزانگان را فرا می‌خواند. نگهبانان اسطوره‌های کهن، از پیشین زمان. داستان‌هاشان را بر برگ‌ها می‌نویسند. با فراهم آمدن این همه، هنگام آن رسیده است تا سراینده‌ای توانا بالا برافرازد، نیزه‌ی قلم برگیرد، سروده‌های آهنگینش را چنان بر دل‌ها نشاند که در یادها بمانند. ��ر این سرزمینِ جنگ‌های بی‌پایان، تنها کتابخانه‌ی امن، خاطره‌ی مردمان است. گویند سدهزار شاعر همزمان در ایران می‌زیند ولی تنها یکی‌ست که از پس این کا�� سترگ برمی‌آید. تک‌شاعری، برای کوششی سپنتا. کسی که همه‌ی واژگان را در شعرش بگنجاند! گنجینه‌ای دور از دستبُرد آنان که در پی نابودی‌اش هستند. دربرگیرنده‌ی داستان مردمان‌مان. پادشاهان‌مان. شهبانوان‌مان. کاخ‌هامان. سرودها و بزم‌هایمان. جام‌های پر از باده‌مان. کباب‌های بریان‌مان. باغ‌های مهتابی‌مان. کاروان‌های کالاهای گرانبها: فرش‌های ابریشمین‌, عنبر، مُشک، پیمانه‌های پر از الماس، پیمانه‌های پر از یاقوت، پیمانه‌های پر از مروارید. کوهستان‌مان. رود‌هامان. خاک‌مان. مرزهامان. نبردهامان. باروهای ویران‌مان. درفش‌های بر خاک‌افتاده‌مان. خون‌مان. که بوده‌ایم. که بوده‌ایم! فرهنگمان. خِرَدمان. گزینه‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌هامان. و واژگان‌مان. همه‌ی واژگان‌مان. هزاران سال واژه، کاخی از واژگان که از باد و باران نیابد گزند! هر اندازه زمان ببرد.همه را در شعرش بگنجاند. همه‌ی ایران را، در سُرودی یگانه. مشعلی خروشنده در سیاهی شب! پژواک بلند و پرطنین آوایی در تاریکی

[officialdaydreamer00]

𝙴𝙻𝚈𝚂𝙸𝚄𝙼

"The final resting place of heroes and the virtuous.

When the concept of reincarnation gained currency in the classical world, the two Elysian realms were sometimes tiered — a soul which had won passage three times to the netherworld Elysium would, with their fourth death, be transferred to the Islands of the Blessed to dwell with the heroes of myth for all eternity.

Blessed be, the destination of two fated lovers..."

finally closing the book, you let out a soft sigh. it wasn't that you didn't enjoy mythology stories like such, far from it exactly. yet somehow, it always gave you a sense of familiarity, as if you had been through it before.

you shook your head. mythology were just stories people of ancient civilisations made up for their beliefs, of course. that was just a silly thought you had, right?

... right?

you felt a pair of arms snaked around your waist, warm and gentle as if you were made from porcelain. a familiar scent that belonged to your beloved, the comfort of which your confused soul sought for. lips leaving a fleeting kiss to your tensed neck, murmuring a voice, beautiful and soothing, you yearned to hear.

"i'm home."

right, you smiled. it didn't matter much, as long as he was still by your side.

"welcome home."

as long as your bond still prevailed.

your fated, your beloved.

𝙴𝙻𝚈𝚂𝙸𝚄𝙼 — 𝙰 200+ 𝙵𝙾𝙻𝙻𝙾𝚆𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙽𝚃

(From 20th to 30th of November)

— by Lovejoy Studios

A Twisted Wonderland AU sets in an inestimable timeline, where the gods are very much real. And you, dear one, and your beloved are reunited at last, after centuries old of godly tragedies.

𝙰𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝:

In Elysium, you may decide who shall play the god, and who shall play the human. Of course, both can be gods, or both can be humans.

I unfortunately cannot stop the tragedies you might have faced in your first lives, though, for Greek mythology shows no mercy for its heroes. That, dear one, you have to figure out yourself.

𝚁𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜:

• You have to reblog this post, and spread the word to the best of your abilities. The more people who knows, the more effective it shall be.

• Seek the Oracle of Delphi and tell her your wishes. You may need to specify your beloved one, and a scenario you had in mind, else the Oracle would tell you a... less than appeal vision. However, if that is what you wanted, then I will not stop you.

• Examples of what your ask should be like:

"What is my destiny with Malleus Draconia? Would it end with us happily in love and dancing the night away under the night sky?"

or

"Tell me my destiny with Jade Leech. Would he truly be my fated one, had we ended up like Theseus and Ariadne?"

Be as creative and detailed as you wish, dear one. I am not here to hinder you from finding your destined end.

May the Fates be kind to you.

format is inspired by the great mage of misery, @ceruleancattail

🏷️ @azulashengrottospiano @aqua-beam @siren-serenity @dove-da-birb @shinysparklesapphires @vioisgoinginsane @shyhaya @hisui-dreamer @axvwriter @names-are-dumb @leonistic @iseethatimicy @cecilebutcher @moonlit-midnight @krenenbaker @ryker-writes @cookiesandbiscuits @minimallyminnie @xen-blank @cave-of-jade @mermaidfanficlibrary @taruruchi @thehollowwriter @edith-is-apparently-a-cat @wordycheesecake @enigmatic-pers @jaylleoo14

note: i might not write for characters i find hard to characterise correctly (i.e. pomefiore trio, jamil, leona) but i will try my best to

[elryuse]

Hotel del Luna jang man wal x malereader who agrees to be her husband please

FINDING YOU, IN ANOTHER LIFE

JANG MAN WAL X MALE READER

The wind howled, mirroring the tempest raging within Jang Man-wol’s heart. News of Edo’s demise, a casualty of a senseless war, had shattered her world. The man who had painted her life with hues of love and joy was gone, leaving behind an eternal void.

Grief consumed her, a relentless tide that threatened to drown her soul. She retreated into the solitude of the Hotel del Luna, a sanctuary shrouded in mystery. The hotel, a timeless haven for lost souls, became her prison, a reflection of her own eternal sorrow.

Decades passed, each day a monotonous cycle of longing and despair. The hotel, once a place of vibrant life, now echoed with the silence of the departed. But one day, a disturbance broke the tranquility. A young man, Y/n, appeared at the hotel’s threshold, his presence as unexpected as it was intriguing.

Man-wol, drawn by an inexplicable curiosity, approached the newcomer. As she got closer, she couldn’t shake off the strange sense of familiarity. His features, his aura, reminded her of someone from the past.

"You... you remind me of someone," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

Y/n, with a gentle smile, replied, "Perhaps, we're connected in ways we don't yet understand."

As days turned into nights, Man-wol found herself drawn to Y/n. His kindness, his empathy, awakened a part of her that had long been dormant. She saw in him a reflection of Edo, a glimmer of hope in the darkness of her eternal existence.

"You remind me of him," she confessed, her voice trembling. "Someone I once loved, someone I lost."

Y/n listened intently, his heart aching for her. "Perhaps," he said, "our souls are intertwined, bound by a love that transcends time and space."

Man-wol, caught in a moment of romantic reverie, went a step further. "Perhaps we are lovers from another life, destined to find each other again, no matter the time or place," she mused.

Y/n, startled by her declaration, chuckled. "Well, that's quite a theory," he said, a playful glint in his eye. "But for now, I think I'll just settle for a room for the night."

Man-wol, a bit taken aback by his casual response, quickly composed herself. "Of course," she replied, "I'll prepare the best room for you."

Little did Y/n know, the room he was assigned to was Man-wol's personal suite, a place filled with memories, both joyful and sorrowful. As he stepped inside, he was greeted by a luxurious interior, adorned with exquisite furnishings and strange artifacts.

"This is... quite something," he muttered, his eyes wide with surprise.

Man-wol watched him with a knowing smile. "Rest well, young man," she said, her voice filled with a hint of mischief. "You've a long night ahead of you."

Y/n, exhausted from his travels, drifted off to sleep, the soft glow of the room lulling him into a peaceful slumber. However, his tranquility was shattered by a loud crash. Startled, he sat up, his heart pounding.

He heard a rustling sound, followed by a soft, almost ethereal voice. “You’re awake,” a familiar voice purred.

Y/n turned to see Man-wol, looking more enchanting than ever, standing by the window. The moonlit night cast an ethereal glow upon her, making her appear almost otherworldly.

“What was that noise?” Y/n asked, his voice filled with confusion.

Man-wol smiled mysteriously. “Oh, just a little late-night snack,” she replied, gesturing towards a shadowy corner of the room.

Y/n's eyes followed her gaze, and he saw a strange creature, half-human, half-beast, cowering in the corner. It was a gumiho, a legendary nine-tailed fox, and it was terrified of Man-wol.

“Don’t worry,” Man-wol assured the creature, her voice soothing. “He won’t hurt you.”

The gumiho let out a relieved sigh. “Thank you,” it whispered, its voice barely audible.

Y/n was stunned. He had just witnessed a creature from Korean folklore, a creature that was supposed to be myth and legend.

“What is going on here?” he asked, his voice filled with disbelief.

Man-wol smiled. “Welcome to the Hotel del Luna,” she replied. “A place where the extraordinary is ordinary.”

As the night wore on, Y/n learned more about the hotel and its mysterious inhabitants. He discovered that the hotel was not just a place to stay, but a sanctuary for lost souls. Man-wol, as the eternal mistress of the hotel, had the power to help these souls find peace.

Y/n was drawn into this strange, magical world, his heart filled with wonder and curiosity. He realized that his encounter with Man-wol was no mere coincidence. It was fate, a destiny that had been written in the stars.

As days turned into nights, Y/n found himself increasingly drawn to Man-wol and the enigmatic world of the Hotel del Luna. He was fascinated by the stories of the spirits who resided there, each with their own unique tale of love, loss, and longing.

Man-wol, in turn, found solace in Y/n's company. His empathy and understanding helped her to heal the wounds of her past. She began to open up to him, sharing her deepest secrets and fears.

One night, as they sat together on the rooftop of the hotel, watching the stars, Man-wol revealed a shocking truth. "You're not human, Y/n," she said, her voice filled with a mixture of sadness and understanding. "You're a spirit, trapped in this world, just like me."

Y/n was stunned. He had never considered such a possibility. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice filled with confusion.

Man-wol explained that he had been caught between worlds, a soul tethered to the mortal realm. He was neither living nor dead, a ghost in the machine of time.

Y/n was overwhelmed by this revelation. He had always felt like an outsider, a misfit. Now, he finally understood why. He was a spirit, a wanderer, forever searching for a place to belong.

"Why am I here?" he asked, his voice filled with despair.

Man-wol sighed. "Fate, destiny, call it what you will. You were meant to be here, to find me."

Y/n was silent, processing the information. The world as he knew it had been shattered. He was no longer human, but something else, something beyond his comprehension.

Despite the shock, Y/n found a strange sense of peace. He was no longer alone. He had found someone who understood him, someone who shared his burden. And as he looked into Man-wol's eyes, he knew that together, they would face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Y/n was stunned, his mind reeling from the revelation. He was a spirit, trapped in a timeless existence, bound to the Hotel del Luna. As he processed this newfound reality, a wave of emotions washed over him, a mix of confusion, fear, and a strange sense of peace.

Before he could fully comprehend the situation, Man-wol leaned in and kissed him. In that moment, a flood of memories washed over him, a glimpse into a life he had never lived. He saw himself as a young man, falling in love with a beautiful woman, a woman who bore a striking resemblance to Man-wol. He witnessed their love blossom, their laughter echoing through the ages. But then, the scene shifted, and he saw the woman, heartbroken, mourning the loss of her beloved.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he realized that he was living someone else's life, a life filled with love and loss. Man-wol pulled away, her gaze filled with both sorrow and hope. "I've missed you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Y/n was bewildered. He didn't understand the depth of his feelings for Man-wol, nor did he comprehend the strange connection between them. But one thing was certain: he was drawn to her, inexplicably and intensely.

As he looked into her eyes, he saw a love that transcended time and space, a love that had endured for centuries. And in that moment, he began to understand the true meaning of eternity.

The moon cast an ethereal glow upon the ancient cathedral, a place untouched by time. Man-wol, resplendent in a flowing white gown, stood at the altar, her beauty both timeless and ethereal. Beside her stood Y/n, a man caught in the whirlwind of a love story that transcended time and space.

She took his hand, her touch sending a shiver down his spine. "Will you marry me, Y/n?" she asked, her voice soft and gentle.

Y/n was stunned. The question, though unexpected, resonated with a strange familiarity. He thought back to the visions, the fragments of a life he had never lived. A life filled with love, loss, and eternal longing.

A tear rolled down his cheek as he nodded. "Yes," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Man-wol smiled, a serene expression on her face. She placed a delicate veil over his head, an heirloom from her past. As he donned the wedding suit, once worn by Edo, a sense of destiny washed over him.

The ceremony was a breathtaking spectacle, a fusion of the ethereal and the earthly. The hotel's resident spirits, each with their own unique story, gathered to witness the union of two souls bound by an ancient love.

As they exchanged vows, the air was filled with a palpable sense of love and longing. Man-wol's eyes, filled with a thousand years of sorrow and joy, met Y/n's, a mirror of her own emotions.

"I love you, Y/n," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Y/n, his heart overflowing with love, responded, "I love you too, Man-wol."

And then, they kissed. It was a kiss that transcended time, a kiss that sealed their eternal bond. As they embraced, the world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them, lost in the moment.

The moon shone brightly, illuminating the sacred space. The wind whispered through the ancient trees, carrying with it the echoes of their love story. And as the night deepened, the Hotel del Luna, bathed in a celestial glow, witnessed the birth of a love that would last for eternity.

- To Be Continued -

[666candies]

[haveyoureadthispoll]

In a lonely castle deep in the Styrian forest, Laura leads a solitary life with only her elderly father for company – until a moonlit night brings an unexpected guest to the schloss. At first Laura is glad to finally have a female companion of her own age, but her new friend’s strange habits and eerie nocturnal wanderings quickly become unsettling, and soon a ghastly truth is revealed. Suffused with gothic horror and sexual tension, Carmilla predated Dracula by 26 years, has inspired generations of writers and is the foundation of the lesbian vampire myth.

[nylpad]

MASQUERADE

Warnings: secrets, mild peril (correct me if I left some out)

In the heart of Paris, where the city lights dance with the Seine, Y/N lived a life colored by the mundane strokes of daily routine. But amidst the ordinary, there was one extraordinary exception—Chat Noir, the enigmatic hero whose daring feats were the whispers of legends.

Y/N's fascination with Chat Noir was no secret. They followed every reported sighting, every tale of his heroics spun into the night air. Yet, for all the admiration, Y/N never imagined their paths would cross beyond the pages of the morning paper.

It began one evening, as Y/N lingered at a café terrace, the remnants of an espresso painting patterns in a small white cup. A flicker of movement caught their eye—a shadow against the moonlit backdrop of the city. It was him, Chat Noir, leaping across rooftops with feline agility.

Their meetings became a series of chance encounters, each more thrilling than the last. Chat Noir, always the gentleman, would often escort Y/N home, ensuring their safety with a playful wink and a promise of "Until next time."

But as the nights passed, Y/N noticed something—a pattern in Chat Noir's disappearances, a familiarity in his mannerisms. Curiosity piqued, Y/N began to piece together the puzzle, each clue bringing them closer to the truth behind the mask.

Chat Noir, however, was no fool. He saw the curiosity in Y/N's eyes, the questions on the tip of their tongue. He knew the danger that knowledge could bring—not to him, but to Y/N. The hero's life was one of solitude for a reason, and that reason was to keep the ones he cared for out of harm's way.

So, he tried to distract Y/N, with grander tales and more daring rescues, anything to keep them from the truth. But the heart wants what it wants, and Y/N's heart wanted to know the man behind the myth.

The game of cat and mouse intensified with each passing day. Y/N's pursuit of the truth became a silent obsession, one that filled the pages of their sketchbook with notes and theories. Chat Noir's visits, once a source of joy, now sparked a burning curiosity that refused to be quenched.

Y/N began to notice the little things—the way Chat Noir's laugh echoed a familiar tune, the subtle hints of a shared favorite book, and the peculiar timing of his appearances. It was as if the universe itself was dropping breadcrumbs, leading Y/N down a path they couldn't resist following.

Chat Noir, for his part, was becoming increasingly flustered. His attempts to divert Y/N's attention only seemed to fuel their resolve. He knew he had to be more careful, to guard his secret with even greater vigilance. But the heart has a way of betraying even the most guarded of secrets, and his was no exception.

One evening, as the city celebrated the Festival of Lights, Y/N and Chat Noir found themselves amidst the vibrant display of fireworks. The sky was ablaze with color, each explosion a symphony of light that mirrored the turmoil in Chat Noir's soul.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Y/N remarked, their eyes reflecting the spectacle above.

Chat Noir nodded, his gaze lingering on Y/N's face. "Not as beautiful as the truth that's hiding in plain sight," he thought to himself.

As the night drew to a close, Y/N made a bold decision. They would confront Chat Noir, demand answers to the questions that haunted their dreams. But as they turned to speak, they found him gone, vanished like a whisper in the wind.

Days turned into weeks, and Chat Noir's visits ceased altogether. Y/N felt a void where once there was excitement, a silence where there was laughter. The absence of the hero left a bitter taste, a reminder of the unresolved mystery that lay between them.

Determined to find closure, Y/N set out on a quest to uncover the truth. They retraced Chat Noir's steps, followed the tales of his heroics, and slowly, the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place.

It was on a rainy afternoon, in the quiet of a quaint Parisian bookstore, that Y/N's world shifted on its axis. A chance encounter, a familiar voice, and the sight of a well-worn ring led to the revelation that would change everything.

The man behind the mask, the hero who had captured Y/N's heart, was none other than...

Adrien Agreste

The son of the famous fashion designer, Gabriel Agreste. The revelation hit Y/N like a thunderclap, the pieces of the puzzle fitting together with a clarity that was almost blinding.

Y/N's mind raced with memories—Chat Noir's grace, his humor, the way he seemed to understand the heart of Paris. It all made sense now. The hero of Paris was the boy who had sat two rows ahead in art class, the one whose sketches had danced across the page with a life of their own.

But with the truth laid bare, Y/N was faced with a dilemma. Adrien, or rather Chat Noir, had gone to great lengths to keep his identity a secret. Did Y/N have the right to confront him? Would revealing their knowledge put him in danger?

The days that followed were a battle between Y/N's conscience and their desire to share the burden of the secret they now carried. They watched Adrien from afar, noticing the weight that seemed to rest upon his shoulders, the way his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

It was a chance encounter at the Louvre, amidst the timeless art and wandering tourists, that fate decided to take a hand. Y/N and Adrien reached for the same sketchbook, their fingers brushing, and in that moment, a silent understanding passed between them.

"Y/N," Adrien began, his voice barely above a whisper, "I know that you know."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. "Adrien, I—"

"Please," he interrupted, his green eyes pleading. "Don't say it out loud. Just... promise me you'll keep my secret. For Paris."

Y/N nodded, the promise sealed in their heart. "Your secret is safe with me. But why do you do it, Adrien? Why risk everything?"

He smiled, a genuine smile that Y/N had come to cherish. "Because Paris is worth it. Because you're worth it. A bit of freedom.... You know."

From that day on, Y/N became Chat Noir's silent ally, the keeper of his secret. And as the sun set over the city of love, Y/N realized that their love for the hero hadn't changed with the unmasking. If anything, it had only grown stronger, for now, they loved the man behind the mask as well.

[writingforstraykids]

Whispers of the Moon - Birthday Special

Pairing: Minchan (short mention of Felix / very short mention of the other boys)

Word Count: 6325

Summary: In the heart of Seoul, beneath the gleaming skyscrapers and ancient palaces, lies a hidden world of magic and mystery. Chan, a gifted healer, and Minho, a shapeshifter hiding as a sleek black cat, find their destinies intertwined in this enchanting underworld...

Warnings/Tags: magical!au, shapeshifter!minho, healer!chan, angst, fluff, strangers to lovers

A/N: The happiest birthday to my dear unnie @zehina. I actually went all nerdy and wrote loads about the world as well since I know you love it (and included the rest of the boys that way hehe). I hope you like it, love🖤

Seoul, South Korea's bustling capital, is known for its towering skyscrapers, historic palaces, and vibrant street markets. It is a city where ancient traditions and cutting-edge technology coexist in harmony. However, beneath its well-lit streets and modern facades lies a hidden realm—a magical underworld known only to a selected few. This subterranean world, rich with history and mystery, operates parallel to the everyday life of Seoul's residents, governed by its own rules and inhabited by beings from myth and legend.

The gateway to Seoul's magical underworld is not a grand archway or a secret door; it is a modest, unassuming teahouse in the bustling district of Insadong. The teahouse, known as "Moonlit Haven," has been in operation for centuries and has been passed down through generations of the same family. Its wooden exterior and traditional hanok architecture blend seamlessly with the area's historic atmosphere.

To the ungifted human, Moonlit Haven appears to be an ordinary teahouse serving fragrant teas and traditional Korean sweets. However, those who know the secret can access the portal to the underworld by ordering a special tea called "Moon's Whisper." Upon drinking this tea, a shimmering door appears at the back of the teahouse, leading to a stone staircase that descends deep into the earth.

The staircase spirals downward, lit by glowing blue lanterns that float in mid-air. The walls are adorned with intricate carvings depicting scenes with magical creatures: the nine-tailed fox, the dragon king, and the heavenly warriors. As one descends, the air grows cooler and tinged with a faint scent of jasmine and pine.

At the bottom of the staircase, a grand archway looms, its surface covered in glowing runes. This is the true entrance to Seoul's magical underworld, a threshold between the mundane and the extraordinary. Stepping through the archway, one is immediately enveloped in a world unlike any other.

The magical underworld of Seoul, known as Secret City, is a sprawling subterranean metropolis that mirrors the city above but with its own unique twist. The sky here is an eternal twilight, illuminated by floating orbs that mimic the phases of the moon. Streets are paved with luminescent stones, and buildings are constructed from materials that shimmer with an inner light.

Secret City is divided into several districts, each with its own distinct character. There is the Enchanted Market, where vendors sell potions, enchanted artifacts, and rare ingredients. The Celestial District is home to beings of great power, including dragons and celestial foxes. The Whispering Woods, a dense forest of silver trees, is said to be haunted by spirits and home to elusive forest guardians.

The residents of Secret City are as diverse as the city itself. Humans with magical abilities live alongside mythical creatures. Among them are the Gumiho, nine-tailed foxes who can shapeshift and possess immense magical power. There are also Dokkaebi, goblins, mischievous but generally benign beings who love to play tricks on humans. Dragons, both Eastern and Western varieties, make their homes in the Celestial District, guarding ancient secrets and treasures.

The city's governance is overseen by a council of elders, composed of representatives from each major group. The council ensures harmony between the various inhabitants and that the secrets of Secret City are kept from the surface world, which is why any sort of magic is forbidden in the mundane world. 

The Enchanted Market is the heart of Secret City, a bustling bazaar where the air is filled with the scent of exotic spices and the sound of lively discussions. Stalls line the streets, their wares illuminated by lanterns that float overhead. Vendors shout out their goods, from enchanted scrolls and rare herbs to mystical artifacts and talismans.

One of the most renowned vendors in the market is Master Hyun, a potions master whose shop, "Elixirs of Eternity," is a treasure trove of magical concoctions. Shelves upon shelves are filled with bottles of all shapes and sizes, each containing liquids that shimmer with otherworldly light. Master Hyun is a man of twinkling eyes and ethereal beauty, always ready with a story about the origins of his potions.

One of his most sought-after potions is the "Dream Weaver," which allows the drinker to enter the dreams of others. Another popular item is the "Phoenix Tear," a potion that can heal any wound or ailment. Master Hyun's potions are known for their potency and reliability, making his shop a favorite among both the magical and non-magical residents of Secret City.

Another notable figure in the Enchanted Market is Ji-Sung, an artifact dealer whose collection is the envy of many. His shop, "Treasures of Time," is filled with rare and powerful artifacts from across the ages. Among his prized possessions are a mirror that shows the true nature of any being, a fan that can summon the wind and a sword that can cut through any material.

Ji-Sung is a mysterious figure, always dressed in elaborate silk robes and adorned with jewelry that seems to pulse with magic. He is known for his keen eye and sharp wit, and it is said that he never forgets a face. His shop is a place of wonder and danger, for while many seek his artifacts for their power, they often come with a price that is not measured in gold.

The Celestial District is home to some of the most powerful beings in Secret City. Dragons, with their majestic forms and ancient wisdom, reside here in grand palaces that float above the ground. These palaces, constructed from crystal and gold, radiate a light that can be seen from anywhere in the city.

Each dragon in the Celestial District guards a specific aspect of magic or nature. There is Aran, the dragon of water, whose palace is surrounded by a moat of liquid silver. There is Seraphine, the dragon of fire, whose abode is perpetually surrounded by a ring of flames. These dragons are both protectors and advisors, and their counsel is sought by the council of elders and other residents of Secret City.

Sharing the Celestial District with the dragons are the Gumiho, or nine-tailed foxes. These beings are both feared and respected for their immense magical power and their ability to shape-shift into beautiful women or men. The Gumiho live in harmony with the dragons, their abilities complementing the dragons' strength and wisdom.

The leader of the Gumiho is Jeongin, a fox spirit with silver fur and piercing dark eyes. Jeongin is known for his grace and intelligence, often acting as a mediator in disputes and a strategist in times of conflict. His palace, the Silver Moon Pavilion, is a place of beauty and tranquility, where the moonlight dances on the surface of a crystal-clear lake.

The Whispering Woods is a dense forest of silver trees, their leaves shimmering like moonlight. The woods are said to be haunted, with whispers echoing through the trees that speak of forgotten secrets and ancient magic. The path through the forest is winding and treacherous, known only to a few who dare to venture into its depths.

The Whispering Woods are guarded by forest spirits, ethereal beings who protect the ancient magic within the trees. These spirits, known as the Guardians, are invisible to most and reveal themselves only to those they deem worthy. They are led by Elder Bin, a spirit of great wisdom and power who has watched over the woods for centuries.

The Guardians are both protectors and guides, aiding those who seek knowledge or refuge in the woods. They are also the keepers of the Sacred Grove, a hidden sanctuary where the most potent magical energies converge. The Sacred Grove is a place of healing and renewal, its waters said to grant visions and its flowers capable of curing any illness.

Among the trees dwell the Spirits of the Lost, souls who have wandered into the woods and never found their way out. These spirits are not dangerous but rather sorrowful, seeking closure or redemption. They often appear as faint, glowing figures, their presence marked by a sudden chill in the air.

The Spirits of the Lost are guided by Lix, a gentle and compassionate spirit who helps them find peace. Lix is a beacon of light in the darkness of the woods, his soothing voice and kind heart offering comfort to those who have lost their way. Under his guidance, many spirits have found the closure they seek and moved on to the afterlife.

Scattered throughout Secret City are hidden temples dedicated to various deities and elemental forces. These temples are places of worship and power where the faithful come to seek blessings and guidance. Each temple is unique, reflecting the nature of the deity or force it honors.

One of the most revered temples in Secret City is the Temple of the Moon, a place of serene beauty and quiet reflection. The temple is built from white marble, its domed roof adorned with silver filigree that glows softly in the moonlight. Inside, a large pool of water reflects the light of the floating orbs above, creating an ethereal ambiance.

The Temple of the Moon is dedicated to the moon goddess, Haneul, who is believed to watch over Secret City from the skies. The temple is tended by a group of priests known as the Moon Brothers, who perform rituals and offer prayers on behalf of the city's residents. The head priest, Brother Seungmin, is a wise and gentle leader, his presence bringing a sense of peace and tranquility to all who visit the temple.

Another secret society is the Shadow Blades, a group of elite warriors and assassins who protect Secret City. They are skilled in martial arts and magic, and their training is rigorous and demanding. The Shadow Blades operate from the Shadowsong Keep, a hidden fortress deep within the Whispering Woods.

Commander Ji-Won is the leader of the Shadow Blades, a formidable warrior known for being both ruthless and just. Under his command, the Shadow Blades carry out missions to protect Secret City from external threats and internal strife. They are the unseen guardians of the city, their presence felt but rarely seen. Minho is one of them, slowly working his way up the ranks but facing struggles with his colleagues. He’s not as powerful with magic as most of them but has the ability to shapeshift into a cat, making him perfect for secret missions. Which pissed a lot of people off. 

Throughout its history, Secret City has been protected by heroes who have risen to defend the city against threats, both internal and external. These heroes, known as the Chosen Ones, are individuals of great courage and power, often possessing unique abilities that set them apart from others.

No hero is complete without a healer, and in Secret City, that role is filled by Chan, a gifted healer whose touch can mend even the gravest of wounds. Chan is a member of the Temple of the Moon, his gentle nature and healing magic bringing comfort and hope to those in need. He carries a staff, the Moon's Grace, which enhances his healing abilities and allows him to channel the power of the moon goddess.

Seoul's magical underworld, Secret City, is a place of wonder, danger, and beauty. It is a city where the mundane and the extraordinary coexist, where ancient myths come to life, and where the balance between light and dark is constantly maintained. The residents of Secret City, both human and mythical, live in harmony, their lives intertwined by the magic that permeates their world.

As the gateway between the two realms, Moonlit Haven reminds visitors that there is more to Seoul than meets the eye. For those who dare to seek it, a world of magic and mystery awaits, hidden beneath the bustling streets and modern skyscrapers of South Korea's capital. In Secret City, the impossible becomes possible, and the ordinary becomes extraordinary—a true testament to the enduring power of magic.

-

Minho had always been different. As a member of the Shadow Blades, the elite warriors and protectors of Secret City, his abilities made him a target of both admiration and envy. Unlike many of his comrades, he lacked powerful magic but possessed a unique talent: the ability to shapeshift into a sleek, agile cat. This ability made him invaluable for espionage, slipping unnoticed through shadows and tight spaces. However, his success and the recognition it brought only fueled the resentment of his peers.

The tension reached its peak after a particularly challenging mission. Minho had been instrumental in retrieving a stolen artifact from a rogue mage, but his success was met with scorn rather than praise. Whispers of jealousy and accusations of favoritism swirled among his colleagues, resulting in an unjust decision by his superior officers. They accused him of withholding information and acting independently, charges that were untrue but impossible for Minho to refute without pushing himself even further away.

"You think you're special because of your abilities," spat one of his fellow warriors. "But you're just a liability. We don't need someone who can't follow orders."

The decision was swift and brutal. Minho was stripped of his rank and cast out from the Shadowsong Keep. The sense of betrayal cut deeper than any blade. He was alone, exiled from the only family he had known, forced to fend for himself in the vast, mystical underworld of Secret City.

With nowhere else to turn, Minho fled through the Whispering Woods, a dense forest known for its haunting beauty and perilous magic. The silver leaves of the trees shimmered in the eternal twilight, casting an eerie glow on the winding paths. Here, the whispers of ancient secrets and lost souls filled the air, a symphony of sorrow and mystery.

Exhausted and wounded from his escape, Minho made a desperate decision. He transformed into his cat form, hoping the change would allow him to navigate the forest more easily and evade any pursuers. The transformation was both a relief and a curse, offering him agility and stealth but stripping him of his human voice and hands.

As a cat, Minho's senses were heightened. He could hear the rustle of leaves, the distant calls of nocturnal creatures, and the soft murmurs of the forest spirits. His fur provided some protection against the chill, but the pain of his injuries persisted. Despite his resilience, the journey through the Whispering Woods was grueling, each step a struggle against fatigue and despair.

Lix found him curled up beneath a tree and noticing his injuries he knew there was only one way to save him. He scooped him up from the ground and soothingly caressed his head, able to tell there was more to him than just an innocent, hurt cat.

After days of wandering, they finally reached the Temple of the Moon, a place of serene beauty and powerful magic. The temple, constructed from white marble and adorned with silver filigree, stood as a beacon of hope amidst the dark woods. Its domed roof glowed softly, reflecting the light of the floating orbs above. Lix set him down on the ground and gently shoved him forward. “I’m not allowed to enter, but you are, little friend. Go and accept the refuge they have to provide.”

Minho hesitated at the entrance, his feline instincts wary of the unknown. He had heard of the temple's head healer, Chan, a gifted young man whose touch could mend even the gravest of wounds. Desperation outweighed caution, and Minho limped into the courtyard, collapsing near the temple steps.

Moments later, a figure emerged from the temple. Chan, carrying a staff that radiated a gentle light, approached the injured cat. His eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the wounded animal, but his expression quickly softened into one of compassion.

"Poor thing," Chan murmured, kneeling beside Minho. "Let's get you inside."

Chan carefully lifted Minho and carried him into the temple. The interior was as serene as the exterior, with moonlight streaming through stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the marble floor. Chan placed Minho on a soft cushion and gently examined his injuries.

"You're in bad shape, but we'll get you fixed up," Chan said soothingly. He placed his hands over Minho's wounds, and a warm, healing light emanated from his palms. The pain began to fade, replaced by a soothing sensation that spread through Minho's body.

As the healing progressed, Minho watched Chan with a mixture of gratitude and curiosity. Chan's touch was gentle, his expression focused yet kind. There was something inherently calming about him, a presence that put Minho at ease despite his recent ordeal.

When Chan finished, he sat back and smiled. "There you go, little one. You should feel better soon."

Minho meowed softly in response, his eyes conveying the gratitude he couldn't express in words. Chan chuckled and scratched behind Minho's ears. "You can stay here as long as you need to. I'll take care of you."

Days turned into weeks as Minho recovered under Chan's care. He adapted to his new life at the Temple of the Moon, observing the daily routines and rituals from the shadows. In his cat form, Minho found a strange sense of peace. He was safe from his past and had a chance to start anew.

Chan grew fond of the cat he had rescued, naming him "Moonshadow" for his sleek, dark fur and the way he seemed to blend into the twilight. Minho, in turn, became Chan's silent guardian, following him around the temple and offering companionship.

Whenever Chan was away, Minho would revert to his human form, cleaning the temple and performing small tasks to help ease his guilt for deceiving him. He hoped that his actions would repay some of the kindness Chan had shown him, even if Chan never knew the truth.

Chan, however, began to notice the small changes around the temple. Rooms were tidier, supplies were replenished, and the garden seemed to flourish under an unseen hand. He attributed these miracles to the blessings of the moon goddess, unaware of the true source.

Five months later

In the eternal twilight of Secret City, the Temple of the Moon was a sanctuary of tranquility and magic. Within its serene confines, Chan sat cross-legged on a plush cushion, his gentle eyes scanning the pages of an ancient tome. The moonlight streaming through the stained glass windows cast a colorful, ethereal glow around him, creating an atmosphere of peace and contemplation.

Beside him, Minho, in his cat form, stretched lazily, his sleek black fur shimmering in the soft light. As he yawned and settled into a more comfortable position, his eyes never left Chan. There was a bond between them that went beyond mere companionship—a connection forged through trials and a deep mutual understanding.

Chan noticed Minho’s gaze and smiled warmly. “Hey there, Moonshadow,” he said softly. “Come here.”

Minho’s ears perked up at the sound of Chan’s voice. With a graceful leap, he landed beside Chan and began to nuzzle his head against Chan’s outstretched hand. Chan’s fingers moved instinctively to scratch behind Minho’s ears, a spot that always made the cat purr contentedly.

“There we go,” Chan murmured, his voice soothing and gentle. He could feel the vibrations of Minho’s purrs under his fingertips, a rhythmic reminder of the trust and affection between them.

Minho closed his eyes, leaning into Chan’s touch. The sensation of Chan’s fingers running through his fur was blissful, and his purring grew louder, filling the quiet room with its soothing sound. It was moments like these that made all the hardships and uncertainties of their lives seem distant and unimportant.

Chan chuckled softly. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

In response, Minho rubbed his head against Chan’s cheek, a gesture of affection that made Chan’s heart swell with warmth. The simple act of being close to Chan brought Minho a sense of security and happiness he had never thought possible before meeting him.

“You’re such a sweet kitty,” Chan whispered, continuing to scratch Minho’s head and under his chin. Minho’s purrs grew even louder, and he started to knead Chan’s chest with his paws, his claws retracting just enough to avoid scratching the fabric of Chan’s robe.

Chan shifted slightly, leaning back against the cushions and creating a more comfortable space for both of them. Minho took this as an invitation and climbed onto Chan’s chest, circling a few times before curling up in a tight ball. His tail wrapped around his body, and he rested his head on his paws, looking up at Chan with half-closed eyes.

“You look so peaceful,” Chan said, his voice barely above a whisper. He rested one hand gently on Minho’s back, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

Minho’s eyes closed fully, and he let out a contented sigh. The warmth of Chan’s body, combined with the rhythmic motion of his hand on his back, lulled him into a state of deep relaxation. His purring continued, a soft, steady sound that seemed to resonate with the very essence of the temple.

For Chan, having Minho close was a source of immense comfort. The bond they shared went beyond that of a healer and his pet; it was a connection of souls, a partnership forged over time. Chan found solace in Minho’s presence, a sense of completeness that he had never experienced before.

As the minutes passed, the tranquility of the moment deepened. Chan’s thoughts drifted, the worries of the day fading into the background. All that mattered was the gentle weight of Minho on his chest, the soothing sound of his purrs, and the warmth of their shared affection.

Minho, on the verge of sleep, shifted slightly and nuzzled his head against Chan’s chest. He felt safe, cherished, and loved—a stark contrast to the loneliness and betrayal he had once known. In this sacred space, with Chan’s heartbeat as his lullaby, Minho found a peace that transcended the physical realm.

Chan continued to stroke Minho’s fur, his touch light and tender. He could feel the trust dripping from the small creature in his arms, a trust that was both humbling and empowering. Chan knew that, no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, their bond unbreakable.

“I promise to always take care of you,” Chan whispered, his voice filled with emotion. 

Minho’s purring intensified for a moment, as if acknowledging Chan’s words. Then, gradually, it began to fade as sleep overtook him. His body relaxed completely, his breathing slow and steady. Chan watched him with a soft smile, his own heart filled with a profound sense of gratitude and love.

The Temple of the Moon, with its timeless beauty and serene atmosphere, bore witness to the deep connection between Chan and Minho. In this sacred place, under the watchful gaze of the moon goddess, they found a moment of perfect harmony—a testament to the enduring power of love and trust in a world filled with magic and mystery.

As Chan closed his eyes, his hand resting gently on Minho’s sleeping form, he knew that their journey together was far from over. But in this moment, they had everything they needed: each other. And that was enough.

-

One evening, as Chan prepared for his nightly prayers, he looked at Moonshadow, who was curled up on a cushion nearby. "You know, sometimes I feel like there's more to you than meets the eye," Chan mused aloud. "You're special, aren't you?"

Minho's ears perked up, and he watched Chan with wide, curious eyes. Chan smiled and continued, "I think the goddess sent you to me for a reason. Maybe you're my familiar, a guardian spirit to protect and guide me."

The words struck a chord in Minho's heart. He had always felt a deep connection to Chan, a sense of duty and protectiveness that went beyond mere gratitude. Perhaps there was truth in Chan's words, a destiny that had brought them together.

That night, Chan performed a ritual to bind Moonshadow as his familiar. He drew intricate symbols on the ground, lit candles, and recited ancient incantations. As the ritual reached its climax, a surge of magical energy enveloped Minho, strengthening the bond between them.

Minho felt a profound shift within him, a merging of their spirits that filled him with newfound purpose. He was now bound to Chan, his protector and companion, their fates intertwined by the magic of the moon.

-

As Chan's familiar, Minho took his duties seriously. He remained vigilant, always on the lookout for potential threats. His heightened senses allowed him to detect dangers before they could reach Chan, and his presence provided comfort and reassurance.

One day, trouble arrived in the form of dark mages seeking to disrupt the balance of magic in Secret City. These mages, practitioners of forbidden magic, targeted the Temple of the Moon, believing its powerful magic could be harnessed for their nefarious purposes.

Chan was in the garden when the attack began. Dark figures emerged from the shadows, casting spells that warped the air and sent tremors through the ground. Chan's staff glowed as he raised a protective barrier, but the dark mages' assault was relentless.

Minho, sensing the danger, leapt into action. He transformed into his human form, his body a blur of motion as he intercepted the attackers. With a combination of agility and ferocity, Minho fought off the dark mages, his cat-like reflexes and strength giving him an edge.

Chan, focused on maintaining the barrier, was unaware of the true identity of his savior. He glanced over in shock as he saw a young man fighting with the grace and power of a guardian beast.

Despite his best efforts to hide his true nature, Minho's ears were visible, a telltale sign of his shapeshifter abilities. As the last of the dark mages fled, Chan lowered the barrier and approached Minho cautiously.

"Who are you?" Chan asked, his voice a mix of awe and confusion. Their eyes met and Chan’s eyes widened recognizing those soft brown orbs he’d come to love so much. His eyes wandered up where Minho’s dark cat ears peaked from his messy brown hair. "Are you... Moonshadow?"

Minho hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Yes, I am. My name is Minho. I'm a shapeshifter, exiled from the Shadowsong Keep. I've been living here in my cat form, afraid you would kick me out if you knew the truth. I know we aren’t very welcomed around here.”

Chan's expression softened, and he reached out to touch Minho's shoulder. "You protected me, Minho. You've been by my side all this time, helping and watching over me. I don't care about your past or your abilities. You are my familiar, and I am grateful for everything you've done."

Tears welled up in Minho's eyes, a mix of relief and gratitude flooding his heart. "Thank you, Chan. I promise to always protect you, no matter what."

-

Minho’s revelation had lifted a weight off his chest, but it also left him feeling vulnerable. Living as a shapeshifter meant hiding his true self, something he’d grown accustomed to. Yet, in front of Chan, he was completely exposed. For Chan, the revelation was a mix of shock and intrigue. The gentle healer had always felt a special bond with Moonshadow, but knowing that the affectionate cat was also a brave young man named Minho deepened that connection.

Their daily routines continued, but with a newfound understanding. Minho still shifted into his cat form, now more out of comfort than necessity. He still enjoyed curling up on Chan’s chest, feeling his rhythmic breathing and the warmth of his body. Chan, on his part, welcomed Minho’s human presence when he transformed, appreciating the help around the temple and the companionship Minho offered.

The first night after Minho’s revelation, Chan found it hard to sleep. He kept glancing at Minho, now in his human form, tidying up the temple’s main hall. The moonlight filtered through the stained glass windows, casting a soft glow on Minho’s face. He moved gracefully, his actions efficient and almost mesmerizing to watch. Chan felt a strange flutter in his chest, a mix of admiration and affection.

“Minho,” Chan called softly, his voice breaking the comfortable silence.

Minho turned, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. “Yes, Chan?”

Chan hesitated, then smiled. “You don’t have to push yourself so hard. Come sit with me.”

Minho’s expression softened, and he abandoned the broom he was holding, walking over to where Chan sat. He settled down beside him, their shoulders almost touching. There was a quiet intimacy in the moment, a shared silence that spoke volumes.

“I never thought I’d find someone like you,” Chan admitted quietly. “Someone who understands and accepts me for who I am.”

Minho looked at him, his eyes sincere. “I feel the same way. You’ve given me a place to belong, Chan. For that, I’m grateful.”

They sat in silence for a while, the bond between them growing stronger with each passing moment. Chan’s hand moved almost instinctively, reaching out to hold Minho’s. Minho’s fingers intertwined with his, the simple touch sending a warm feeling through both of them.

-

As days turned into weeks, the relationship between Chan and Minho deepened. They developed a rhythm, a balance of shared tasks and quiet moments of companionship. Minho’s presence brought a sense of stability to Chan’s life, while Chan’s gentle nature provided Minho with a sense of peace he had never known before.

Chan’s duties as a healer often took him to various parts of Secret City. Minho, always in his cat form, accompanied him, providing silent support. He became Chan’s shadow, always alert and ready to protect him if necessary. Their bond as familiar and master was strong, but it was the bond of friendship and growing affection that truly defined their relationship.

One afternoon, while Chan was tending to a patient in the Celestial District, Minho, in his cat form, explored the area. The dragons and celestial foxes were impressive, their majestic forms and ancient wisdom evident in every interaction. Minho’s keen senses picked up the subtle undercurrents of power and respect that flowed through the district.

As Chan finished his work, he called out for Minho. The sleek black cat appeared almost instantly, weaving through the crowd with ease. Chan smiled as he picked Minho up, cradling him gently.

“You always know where to find me,” Chan said, scratching behind Minho’s ears. Minho purred in response, nuzzling against Chan’s cheek.

Their return to the temple was peaceful, the twilight sky casting a serene glow over Secret City. Minho transformed back into his human form once they were inside, stretching his limbs as he did so.

“Another successful day,” Chan remarked, setting down his staff.

Minho nodded. “You’re an amazing healer, Chan. The way you help people… it’s inspiring.”

Chan’s cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment. “Thank you, Minho. But I couldn’t do it without your support.”

Minho’s heart swelled at the words. He was finding it harder to keep his feelings for Chan hidden. The healer’s kindness, dedication, and the way he made Minho feel valued and appreciated—it was all becoming too much to ignore.

Their bond grew stronger with each passing day, but so did Minho’s feelings for Chan. He found himself drawn to the healer in ways he hadn’t expected. Chan’s smile, his laughter, the way he cared for others—it all made Minho’s heart race.

One evening, as they sat together under the soft glow of the moonlight, Chan turned to Minho with a thoughtful expression. “Minho, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Minho replied, curious.

“Why do you stay in your cat form most of the time?” Chan asked gently. “I mean, I understand it became your natural state by now, but you can be human whenever you want. Why do you choose to be a cat?”

Minho looked down, his ears twitching slightly. “It’s… complicated. When I’m in my cat form, I feel safe. I can protect you without drawing too much attention. And it’s easier to hide my true feelings.”

“Your true feelings?” Chan echoed, his curiosity piqued.

Minho hesitated, then took a deep breath. “Chan, there’s something I need to tell you. Ever since you took me in, I’ve felt this… connection. It’s more than just being your familiar. I care about you deeply, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. But I’ve been afraid to show it, afraid that you might not feel the same way.”

Chan’s eyes softened, and he reached out to take Minho’s hand. “Minho, I care about you too. You’ve become an important part of my life, and I can’t imagine it without you. I think… I think I’ve been feeling the same way.”

Minho’s heart skipped a beat. “Really?”

Chan nodded. “Yes. I’ve been trying to understand these feelings, and now I realize that I’ve fallen for you, Minho. Not just as my familiar, but as someone I want to be with.”

Minho’s eyes filled with tears of relief and happiness. “Chan, I’ve loved you for so long. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Chan pulled Minho into a gentle embrace. “You don’t have to hide your feelings anymore. We’ll face this together.”

Minho clung to Chan, the warmth of his embrace filling him with a sense of belonging. They stayed like that for a while, holding each other under the moonlight, their hearts beating in sync.

-

With their feelings out in the open, Minho and Chan’s relationship took on a new dimension. They were no longer just healer and familiar; they were partners, united by love and a deep sense of understanding. Their bond grew stronger, their affection for each other evident in every touch, every glance, every shared moment.

Chan continued his work as a healer, and Minho remained by his side, providing support and protection. They faced challenges together, their love giving them strength and resilience. Secret City, with its magic and mystery, became a backdrop for their blossoming relationship.

One day, as they walked through the Enchanted Market, Minho in his human form, Chan took his hand. “I have a surprise for you.”

Minho looked at him curiously. “What is it?”

Chan led him to a small shop filled with beautiful artifacts and magical items. The shopkeeper, a kind young man, greeted them with a warm smile.

“Welcome, Chan. I see you’ve brought a special friend today,” he said.

Chan smiled and nodded. “Yes, Minho is very special to me. And I want to give him something to show how much he means to me.”

Jisung’s eyes twinkled. “Ah, I have just the thing.”

He led them to a display case and pulled out a delicate silver pendant shaped like a crescent moon. “This pendant is filled with protective magic. It will keep the wearer safe and strengthen the bond between two hearts.”

Chan took the pendant and turned to Minho. “I want you to have this. It’s a symbol of our bond and my promise to always be there for you.”

Minho’s lip quivered slightly as he took the pendant. “Thank you, Chan. I’ll cherish it always.”

Chan fastened the pendant around Minho’s neck, and they shared a tender kiss, sealing their love with a magical promise.

-

Their love continued to grow, but so did the challenges they faced. Dark forces still threatened Secret City, and Minho and Chan found themselves in the midst of several battles. Their bond was tested, but their love gave them the strength to overcome every obstacle.

One evening, as they returned to the temple after a particularly difficult mission, Chan collapsed from exhaustion. Minho caught him, his heart pounding with fear. “Channie, are you okay?”

Chan smiled weakly. “I’m just tired, Minho. I’ll be fine.”

Minho carried Chan inside and laid him down on a soft cushion. He tended to Chan’s wounds, his hands trembling with worry. “You’ve pushed yourself too hard, Chan. You need to rest.”

Chan reached up to touch Minho’s face. “I’ll be okay, Minho. I have you by my side.”

Minho’s eyes filled with tears as he leaned down to kiss Chan’s forehead. “I love you, Chan. Please take care of yourself like you do with everyone else.”

“I love you too, Minho,” Chan whispered, closing his eyes. “Thank you for being here with me.”

Minho stayed by Chan’s side, holding his hand and watching over him as he slept. The trials they faced only strengthened their bond, their love a beacon of hope and resilience in the face of darkness.

-

As time passed, Minho and Chan’s love continued to flourish. They built a life together, their bond unbreakable and their hearts intertwined. Secret City, with its magic and mystery, became their home, a place where their love could grow and thrive.

One evening, as they sat together under the moonlight, Chan turned to Minho with a smile. “Do you remember the day we first met?”

Minho nodded, his eyes filled with affection. “How could I forget? You saved me, Chan. You gave me a place to belong.”

Chan took Minho’s hand, their fingers intertwining. “And you gave me a reason to believe in love. You’ve made my life complete, Minho.”

Minho leaned in to kiss Chan, their lips meeting in a tender, loving embrace. “I promise to always be by your side, Chan. Forever.”

Chan smiled, his heart filled with joy. “Forever.”

As they held each other under the soft glow of the moonlight, Minho and Chan knew that their love was eternal. In the magical underworld of Secret City, their hearts had found a home in each other, a love that would endure through any challenge, a bond that would never be broken.

Together, they faced the world, their love a guiding light in the darkness. And in each other’s arms, they found a love that was truly magical, a love that would last forever.

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

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[awkward-walking-potato]

Since New Orleans has a lot of vampire legends and myths, I'm highly certain that our dear sweet Gambit is aware of all of those legends. Especially since vampires are real in the Marvel universe. So how about something with Gambit/Gender-Neutral!Vampire.

The myths are true

New Orleans was a city steeped in legends. It was part of its charm—the whispered stories about voodoo, ghosts, and dark magic lingering in the streets like the scent of beignets and coffee. Gambit had grown up with these tales, hearing them from old-timers and street vendors, and over time, he’d learned to take them with a grain of salt. But nothing prepared him for the night he met you.

He had been out on one of his usual strolls through the French Quarter, the air thick with humidity and the distant sound of jazz floating from a nearby club. The night was alive, but Remy felt strangely disconnected from it, like something was off. And then, he saw you.

You were standing in the shadows of a narrow alley, the flicker of a gaslight casting just enough light to catch the glint of your eyes as they locked onto his. At first, Remy’s instincts flared—something about you was different, something that made his skin tingle in a way that wasn’t quite fear, but close. You had an otherworldly presence, a quiet intensity that wrapped around you like the cloak of night.

“You lost, mon ami?” he called out, the playful drawl in his voice masking the curiosity creeping up his spine.

You stepped forward, your movements almost too smooth, too silent for his liking. But you didn’t feel threatening—just... other. “Not lost,” you said, your voice calm and cool, but with an underlying edge that made him pause. “Just observing.”

He tilted his head, taking in your sharp features, the way your eyes seemed to pierce through the dark. “Observin’ what?”

You smiled then, and that’s when he saw them—your fangs, gleaming ever so slightly under the dim light. It wasn’t like the myths had painted it; there was no horror, no sudden lunge. Just a quiet confirmation of something Remy had thought to be mere fantasy.

“You,” you answered simply, your voice smooth like silk.

For the first time in a long while, Gambit was speechless. He’d heard of vampires, of course, in the same way everyone had. But to stand face-to-face with one? To see the myth alive, breathing, and real? He didn’t quite know how to react.

But what surprised him even more was the way you intrigued him. There was no fear in his chest, no instinct to run or fight. Instead, there was curiosity—and, though he wouldn’t admit it right away, a growing attraction.

From that night on, you seemed to cross paths more often. Remy, always the charmer, found himself drawn to you in ways he didn’t expect. At first, he tried to play it cool, telling himself it was just fascination with something he didn’t understand. But the more you spoke, the more he realized it wasn’t just your mystery that held him—it was you. The way you carried yourself, the way you spoke with centuries of wisdom but with a warmth that surprised him.

You weren’t like the cold, predatory creatures of legend. You were sharp, yes, but there was a depth to you that Remy found himself falling into faster than he thought possible.

One night, after one of your usual moonlit meetings, Remy leaned against a railing, watching you with that half-smile of his, his red-on-black eyes glinting in the shadows. “Gotta admit, chérie, never thought I’d fall for a legend.”

You raised an eyebrow, stepping closer until you were standing right in front of him, your gaze unwavering. “You’re not scared?” you asked, your tone curious rather than teasing.

Remy chuckled, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from your face. “Non. You’d think a boy from New Orleans would be used to strange things by now. But you? You somethin’ else.” His fingers lingered on your cheek for a moment longer, his touch warm against your cold skin.

He wasn’t lying. Remy had been through his share of wild experiences—fighting alongside the X-Men, facing down world-ending threats—but you were different. He wasn’t just fascinated by what you were, but who you were. There was a quiet strength in you, a grace, but also a loneliness that he recognized all too well. And somehow, in your presence, he didn’t feel so alone.

“I didn’t think someone like you would be interested in... well, someone like me,” you admitted, your voice soft, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t shown before.

Remy grinned, his thumb gently tracing your jawline. “Ain’t every day a man gets to fall for a vampire, non?”

You let out a quiet laugh, the sound almost lost in the wind. “I suppose not.”

But in that moment, it didn’t matter that you were from different worlds, that you carried centuries of history and he was just a man with a deck of cards and a lot of charm. What mattered was that, somehow, you had found each other.

And just like that, Remy LeBeau, a man who had seen it all, found himself falling quicker and deeper than he ever had before—for a vampire he never thought he’d meet, in a city full of myths and legends that suddenly felt all too real.