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samalong1 · 1 year ago

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Songbird Hannibal x Operareader

Yandere hannibal tw obsessive reltionship, controlling behavior,manupliation, and briefly mentioned baby trapping

You were his song bird, he'd always say it, it was his Nickname for you. He wasn't ashamed of it either infront of a crowd of all his dinner guests he'd call out for his song bird to come make a host

Such a nice reminder of how you met and fell in love, you even had the ticket Hannibal bought to your opera show framed so it was nice he was also sentimental

But it was much diffrent from hannibal's view

He saw your performances many times before you even met him. Every time he was smitten

Your voice it came from deep down as if it was your soul singing

It indirectly brought him to his childhood your look,voice,and even smell reminded him of his mother's room, the smell of all her perfume and the admiration he had for all the beauty and small details, it was hard to fully put into words but he just knew he had to have you

Although he wanted to simply sweep you up have you in his arms, he had to be patient if he wanted you to sing

A song bird could be trapped in the prettiest golden cage and fed the best quality food but never sing, they'd fall into depression being aware of their lack of freedom.

So he moved slowely charming you one night after a performance when he spotted you in the lobby. He'd take you ok the finest dates and gift you the finest golden jewelry he could find

Of course you were charmed, a respectable well groomed well educated man wanting to give you the world would charm anyone he was like a winning lotto ticket sticking out from any deadbeat,messy,rude, or childish boyfreinds you've had before

If the song bird is unaware of their captivity, the golden bars too far away for them to feel trapped, too busy with toys to want to fly away and it'd be content singing

This is what he did you thought you could go anywhere but he made very sure you'd never be too far away, not that you would wonder off he would do so much with you that you were too tired to go out without him.

He loved hearing your voice In the theatre and seeing how you moved everyone. But his greed was far more powerful, he wanted your voice to only move him to speak directly to him your voice only sung for him. At every performance he'd imagine your voice hitting a note so high everyone but him would shatter like glass leaving him the only one worthy to enjoy your melodies

So he played the long game soon wrapping your finger in a wedding ring, to lure you into the grand cage

After that it was easy to get you to abdonen your career with phrases like, "why work for others when I am more than able to provide", "you could write your own songs with the free time",and the one that hit the hardest "if we had children won't you want to be around them, of course I support working mothers but all the time you spend practicing and when you perform in other states even countries woudnt you rather be with them"

Of course there were a ton mire tactics he used to persuade you, he was very manipulative part of that is what made life to him a game if chess always needing to plot your next move or words

Soon it worked, his song bird was in the cage clueless about the trap and he locked the door

It took years but finally he had his pretty song bird in a golden cage where only he could be blessed with the singing, where only he held the key to free the bird but it remained unaware happily singing

You were happy either way wrapped around him

It was funny you worried that he didn't love you at times or that you were a bother due to how stoic he was and how hard it was to read him

Of course he'd assure you how loved you are but it was funny, you were worried that you were annoying him when he did so much for you to "annoy" him

Everyone saw through the bars even you, you were lucky you married a rich respectful docter who loved you

You'd still sing for the public but not as a profession whenever there was a open mic or any exuse he'd happily watch his songbird sing and the awe in others

He saw it as a blessing to the strangers a rare moment where he'd bring his golden cage to the public to allow others to hear the singing

He'd sketch you alot, you'd be drawn as many Greek Goddesses frequently as aphrodite, or on a stage singing to a audience that was empty exept for one man, him

He never shown you the sketches but he wasn't ashamed its just what he did to keep his mind busy you woudnt show him your middle school doodles

If you ever saw them he'd just admit that he drew them and move on

Though he'd ask you to model for paintings drawing you in so many poses some erotic but some classical, as if you were a medival monarch

Though he usually painted from real life he had one he painted without your modeling, it was you wearing flowing silk while in a golden swing in a golden cage seeming unaware

Oh how he favored it, it was hung in his office for any patients or freinds to see. You felt unease when seeing it but could never put a finger on it

Because a happy songbird was unaware of its cage,it didn't see itself as trapped so it woudnt recognize any depiction of themselves as trapped

#hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal #yandere hannibal lecter #yandere hannibal #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter

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livebeforeyoulearn · 1 month ago

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Touch You Softly - Part 2

Part 1

Warnings: None

Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: You have a knack for leaving without saying another word.

You live in a maze of your own design, a tangled, endless place where the paths are formed from the opposing desires that hold you captive. You’re caught between the pull of wanting her – the stranger with the soft eyes and intoxicating lips – and the stubborn need to remain alone, untouched, and unbound. You crave the freedom of solitude, a life without judgement, where you can exist without shame, and yet, her memory has become the one thread that tangles everything up. You miss the simplicity of your old life, the predictable rhythm that was your constant companion, the song and dance that never changed. You knew every beat, every step, and there was comfort in that. But now, she’s here, invading your mind like an unwanted guest, making you question what you thought you knew about yourself.

It’s as if meeting her has rewired something inside of you. You don’t even know her name, and yet you can’t stop thinking about her. The kiss you shared on the beach plays on a loop in your head, endlessly replaying that fleeting moment where her lips were on yours. You can still feel it – the softness, the warmth, the electric thrill that coursed through you. You know you’d do it again. If you saw her again, you wouldn’t hesitate; you’d kiss her just as fiercely as you did that night, letting yourself get lost in the taste of her, letting her pull you under like a tide that’s too strong to resist. You’ve kissed people before, strangers whose names you never cared to learn, whose faces have long since faded from your memory, but none of them ever lingered like this.

You find yourself at the beach again, drawn there like a moth to a flame, even though the sky is heavy with clouds, the threat of rain looming overhead. The air is thick with the smell of salt and storm, and the wind whips at your skin. But you don’t care. This is the only thing that seems to quiet the noise in your head, the endless spiral of thoughts that keep you awake at night. You walk along the shore, letting the cold, damp sand cling to your feet with every step, searching for that spot – the place where the two of you had been together. It feels like retracing the steps of a dream, something half-remembered and hazy, but you find it eventually, that stretch of sand where the memory of her feels the strongest.

You crouch down, pressing your fingertips into the cool grit of the sand. Slowly, you begin to trace her outline, drawing her figure with careful, deliberate strokes as if you could bring her back with the simple act of sketching her into existence. It’s a crude outline, nothing more than a shadow of her, but it’s all you have. You know it’s pathetic – lying on a beach, tracing a memory of a stranger you barely know, just to feel close to her – but there’s no one here to see, no one to mock you for it.

When you’re finished, you lie down beside the figure in the sand, stretching out on the cold, rough ground. You close your eyes, letting the sounds of the sea wash over you, and try to imagine what it would be like if she were really there. You see her beside you, her skin glowing in the moonlight, her hair spread out like a halo against the pale sand. You imagine the way she looked at you that night, her eyes wide and curious, the way she laughed, soft and low, like a secret meant only for you. You picture the way her fingers brushed your skin, leaving trails of warmth wherever she touched, and the way she gripped your wrist as if she needed to hold on to something solid, something real.

You let your mind wander, dreaming about how that night could have gone if you hadn’t walked away. You see the two of you lying under the stars, talking about anything and everything, sharing pieces of yourselves that you’d never given to anyone else. You imagine the hours stretching on, the sky slowly lightening as dawn approached, and neither of you wanting to leave. You picture moving from the beach to somewhere more secluded, where you could lie in the sun, feel its warmth on your skin, away from the prying eyes of the world. You imagine days spent in each other’s company, becoming inseparable, but it’s all just a fantasy – a sweet, painful dream.

You remember her softness – her voice, her lips, the way she touched you like you were something fragile and precious. You remember the way she let you trace her features with your fingers, memorising the curve of her cheek, the shape of her lips, burning the image of her into your mind. You see her every time you close your eyes, her face tilted up towards you, her expression open and unguarded, and it haunts you.

You think about how she was willing to go further that night, to let you in, to share more of herself, and you can’t help but wonder what would have happened if you’d let her. But you didn’t. You walked away because you’ve always been cynical when it comes to love. You’ve built up walls around yourself, convinced that it’s easier to keep people out than to let them in and risk the pain of disappointment. And now, lying here on the sand, you curse yourself for it.

You reach out, your hand hovering over the outline you’ve drawn, and you press your palm against the rough sand where her stomach would be. You close your eyes, imagining the feel of her skin under your touch – warm and smooth, rising and falling with every breath. You want to know what it’s like to really touch her, to feel the softness of her, the strength hidden beneath. You ache with the wanting of it, a deep, hollow yearning.

After what feels like hours spent in a haze of longing, lost in the rhythm of the waves and the memory of her touch, you open your eyes, expecting to see only the grey sky and the empty beach stretching out before you. But she’s there, sitting beside you with her knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around them protectively, as if bracing herself against the cold wind whipping across the shore. Her hair, a wild tangle of strands, dances in the harsh gusts, and her eyes squint against the sand that’s swirling in the air.

For a moment, you freeze. Is she really there, or is this some cruel delusion – your mind, twisted and cynical, conjuring her up just to deceive you? You can’t be sure. The wind, the isolation, the intensity of your longing – it all feels surreal, like you’ve manifested her out of sheer desperation. You want to reach out, to touch her arm, her face, something, anything, just to confirm that she’s real. But you don’t. That would cross a boundary, wouldn’t it? Instead, your fingers dig into the sand, gripping it as if the coarse grains could somehow ground you back into reality. You need to know what’s real.

You’re staring at her, trying to make sense of the impossible sight before you, and her head turns, just slightly, enough for her eyes to meet yours. There’s no doubt – those eyes, deep and familiar, are unmistakably hers. This is not a hallucination or some trick of your mind. She’s real, sitting right there, as if she’d been waiting all along.

"Why are you here?" you ask, your voice blunt, the words slipping out before you can really think about them. There’s no softness in your tone, no greeting, no warmth. It’s more a question for yourself, because how do you process the sight of her sitting there so casually beside you, like it’s the most natural thing in the world? It’s as though you wished her into being, and now you have to deal with the consequences of it.

She doesn’t flinch at your question. “I came back for the same reason you have,” she says simply, her voice steady, calm. You remain still, your body pressed into the cold sand, your mind spinning.

"You don’t know why I’m here," you reply, though the words come out quieter than you intend, almost too soft for the wind to carry. You’re afraid to speak too loudly, as if raising your voice would shatter whatever fragile reality you’ve stumbled into. There’s an odd emptiness in this exchange, a lack of the heated emotion you thought you’d feel. It’s detached, almost clinical, and you don’t know if that makes you relieved or disappointed. Is this what you wanted?

“I do,” she replies, turning her head fully to look at the figure you’ve drawn in the sand. Her gaze lingers on the outline, tracing its imperfect shape, and then she points to it with a delicate hand. “Why do you still come back here and think of me if you’re the one who left without saying anything? If you stayed, it would’ve been a lot easier than thinking so much.” Her voice isn’t accusing; it’s contemplative, a rhetorical question that doesn’t demand an answer but lays bare the truth between you. It’s almost as if she’s musing aloud, trying to understand the quiet tragedy of your connection.

You sit up, the coolness of the sand seeping into your palms as you cross your legs and settle beside her. You look out at the sea, the swell of the waves crashing in the distance, and you shrug. What could you possibly say to that? She’s right, after all. But it doesn’t make the truth any easier to admit.

“I don’t like meeting new people and having to go through the process of trusting them,” you finally say, the words coming out more intimate than you expected. It feels strange, vulnerable, saying it out loud to her. “Staying would’ve meant I had to have some sort of trust in you.”

She hums softly, the sound carried away by the wind, and it’s almost like she understands. You don’t know how or why, but there’s no judgement in her expression, only a quiet acceptance of the tangled mess of your confession. “You trust me enough to tell me that,” she says, side-glancing at you briefly. “It’s a start.”

Her eyes return to the sea, but you keep your gaze on her, studying the way her hair is pushed back by the wind, exposing the curve of her jaw, her lips – those same lips you kissed under the stars – are caught between her teeth, and there’s something undeniably attractive about it. You’re not sure she even realises how it affects you. You can see her chest rise and fall as she inhales deeply, her eyes still focused on the distant horizon. Then she turns her head, her gaze locking onto yours, and you feel your breath catch. Her eyes search your face, taking in every detail, and you know she sees the way your own eyes are drawn to her lips, how you can’t seem to look away.

“Will you tell me your name now?” she asks, her voice gentle, almost hopeful. She waits, her eyes searching yours for an answer, but you can’t bring yourself to give it. The silence stretches between you and when you don’t answer, she offers something instead – an olive branch. “My name is Alexia.”

You watch her as she writes the letters in the sand, each stroke deliberate, as if she’s making sure you’ll remember. Alexia. Finally, you have a name for the face that’s been haunting your thoughts. A small smile pulls at your lips as you watch her, and then, almost without thinking, you reach down and trace the first initial of your name beside hers.

Her eyes linger on the letter you’ve drawn, running over it again and again, as if she’s trying to coax the rest out of you with just a look. She glances up at you, her expression softening into something almost pleading for you to finish. But you don’t. Instead, you watch her as she sighs and begins to trace your initial over and over in the sand, repeating it like a mantra. There’s something oddly soothing about the sight, and you find yourself smiling again.

“It’s just a name,” she says, her voice tinged with curiosity. “Why won’t you tell me?”

But it’s not just a name. It’s your name. And giving it to her would mean taking a step forward, into a future you’re not sure you’re ready for. It would mean opening up, letting her in, and that thought still terrifies you.

“I will tell you everything one day, Alexia,” you promise, your voice steady. She looks at you then, her eyes sweeping over your face, searching for any hint of deception. But there’s nothing hidden, nothing masked.

“I know,” she says softly, and there’s a certainty in her voice that leaves you wondering how she can be so sure. But before you can question it, she’s leaning in, her breath warm against your lips, and your eyes flutter shut as her mouth meets yours. For a moment, it’s still, gentle, before she deepens it, and you sigh into her mouth, feeling the familiar rush of desire flood through you. She tastes like salt and rain, and it’s everything you’ve wanted, everything you’ve been longing for, and nothing else matters. Your fingers lift, almost instinctively, to find the curve of her jaw, feeling the smoothness of her skin under your fingertips.

There’s something deeply intimate in the way she kisses you, like she’s pouring herself into the moment, into you, and you feel it echo back in the way your body responds. You can sense how much she wants this – it’s palpable in the way her lips press a little harder, the way her body leans into yours, craving more.

You push her hair back when it falls between you, your fingers lingering as you thread through the soft strands. She smiles against your lips, and you do too, laughter bubbling up despite the heat between you both. You find yourself laughing together, breaking the kiss. It’s a joy you hadn’t expected to feel, a lightness that fills the space where doubt usually lives.

Then she shifts, her hands moving to your shoulders, and with a gentle nudge, she pushes you back. At first, you’re startled, eyes widening as the realisation of what’s happening settles in. She’s guiding you down, her hands steady on your shoulders, until your back presses against the ground. It’s unexpected, and your lips part in surprise, a soft gasp escaping as she hovers above you. Her smile never falters – it’s still there, bright and inviting, as if she’s already sure of the path you’re now on.

You feel the weight of her body just above yours, her presence surrounding you in a way that makes you hyperaware of everything. Your pulse races, heart hammering in your chest as your breath catches in your throat. Her lips find yours again, cutting through the whirlwind of thoughts running through your mind. Her kiss is deep and slow, drawing out every sensation until you’re dizzy with it. Her hands move with purpose, tracing the line of your neck, her fingers brushing over your collarbones and shoulders, before travelling down your arms.

You miss the control, the touch you once had over her. You remember that night, the one where your hands were the ones exploring her skin, dictating the pace, leading the way. But now, it’s her – her touch, her hands, her guidance – and it’s unsettling. You’re not used to letting go like this, to surrendering yourself to someone else’s touch. It’s unfamiliar, almost disorienting, and you can’t decide if you want her to continue or if you need to stop her. But even as those thoughts creep in, she pulls away just enough, her breath warm on your lips as her gaze locks with yours.

“Come back to Barcelona with me,” she whispers, her voice low, intimate. The question lingers between you, as heavy as the space she’s created by pulling away, her breath still mingling with yours.

Your eyes blink slowly, trying to process the words, “Barcelona?” you murmur, your voice barely more than a breath. You blink again, your mind struggling to catch up to the weight of the moment. “You’re from Barcelona?”

She giggles softly, and the sound vibrates through you, her eyes twinkling with something light and playful. “Yes,” she says, her smile widening just a little. “I’ll bring you back tomorrow, I promise. Just come with me for the night.”

You stare up at her, a thousand thoughts rushing through your mind, none of them quite making sense. There’s something about the way she’s looking at you, the way her eyes seem to see right through all the walls you’ve carefully built, that tugs at you. You know you should say no, you should keep your distance, maintain the space that keeps you safe from feeling too much. But there’s something different about this. Something about her.

Her hand reaches out, fingers tracing lightly over your cheek. It’s such a simple gesture, but it pulls at something deep inside you. Something that makes you want to let go, to stop fighting what’s right in front of you. You don’t say anything. Instead, you nod. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but she notices, her smile softening in a way that makes your heart clench.

She stands, pulling you gently to your feet with her, her hands brushing the sand from your clothes in an almost absent-minded way. Her touch lingers on your arms, her fingers tracing patterns that feel far too intimate for how little you’ve known her. You look at her, really look at her, and there’s a contentment in her expression that makes you wonder how she can be so sure of this, so sure of you.

Your heart beats faster as she takes your hand, leading you towards her car. You follow without hesitation, despite the warning signals flashing in the back of your mind.

The night you share with her is wrapped in intimacy, each touch more deliberate, more meaningful than the last. Alexia moves with a quiet tenderness, her fingers ghosting over your skin like she’s memorising every curve, every shiver she elicits. There’s an implicit understanding between you – this moment is fleeting, but for now, it's all that exists. Her lips find yours, slow and intentional, drawing you into her with each soft press, each lingering kiss. Her hands follow, tracing the lines of your body in a way that feels reverent, almost worshipful. It’s overwhelming, how fully you surrender to her touch, how deeply she seems to care for you in the quiet of this room, even though she still doesn’t know your name.

When it’s over, when you’re both left breathless, she pulls you against her. The warmth of her body seeps into yours, and you can feel her heartbeat slow beneath your cheek, her breath evening out as exhaustion begins to pull her under. Her fingers don’t stop moving, drawing lazy circles on your back, grounding you in the present. But it’s more than just a soothing gesture – there’s a possessiveness to the way she holds you, like she’s trying to keep this moment from slipping away too soon. Alexia’s lips brush against your forehead, then your cheeks, then the corner of your mouth, a series of soft, delicate kisses that feel like promises she can’t speak aloud. Her breath is warm against your skin, her closeness intoxicating, and you let yourself sink into it, into her, until sleep starts to pull at your edges. Even as she drifts off, her arms remain wrapped around you, as if even in her dreams, she isn’t ready to let you go.

You can’t help but wonder if she feels the same fear, the same uncertainty about what tomorrow might bring.

—

The next morning, you wake in her arms, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her breath against your cheek. There’s a kind of light that filters through the curtains, a golden hue over the tangle of sheets and limbs, that doesn’t wake you immediately but gently nudges you back into awareness. Her hair is tousled, scattered across the pillow. It smells faintly of salt and something sweet, a mix of the sea and something uniquely hers, and you breathe it in, letting the scent linger in your lungs.

You shift slightly, lifting your head to take in her face. Her lips, slightly parted, are still swollen from the kisses you shared the night before. You let your gaze trace the curve of her cheek, the slope of her nose, and the way her lashes fan out against her skin, dark and delicate. There’s something almost ethereal about her, something that makes you feel like you’re seeing her for the first time, like the person in your arms is someone you could never truly know.

The space between you feels impossibly small, and yet it’s in these small details – the way her fingers twitch softly against your side, the gentle press of her leg hooked over yours – that you find yourself beginning to unravel. You let your hand rest on top of hers, tracing the delicate lines of her knuckles with the tip of your finger, marvelling at how easily your bodies seem to fit together, as if they were made for this exact moment.

She stirs slightly, her grip tightening on you in her sleep, and you freeze, not wanting to wake her. But the weight of her arm, the way she holds you so securely, makes your heart ache in a way you hadn’t anticipated. It’s so easy, so effortless, the way she pulls you in, and for a moment, you let yourself believe that you belong here, that this closeness is something you’re capable of. You let yourself imagine what it would be like to stay.

But reality starts to creep in. The dreamlike haze begins to fade, and doubt worms its way into your thoughts.

You watch the light slowly stretch across the room, and you feel the weight of your decisions from the night before. You feel foolish. It was a leap you weren’t supposed to take, a moment that felt too much like falling. How could you have let yourself get this close, let your guard down enough to wake up beside her in a city that isn’t yours?

You can’t remember the last time you let someone this close. It’s disconcerting, this sense of comfort that you’ve found in the curve of her body against yours, in the silent language that’s been built between you without a single word.

Sitting up slowly, you’re careful not to disturb her, though a part of you already misses the warmth of her body pressed against yours. As you pull away, she rolls onto her side, her back now facing you, and there’s a strange emptiness where her touch had been. You stare at her for a moment longer, taking in the sight of her, this beautiful woman who somehow made you forget yourself, even for just a night.

You can’t bear to wake her, to see the look in her eyes when you tell her you’re leaving. Running a hand through your hair as you take in the sight of her, still half-buried in the sheets. You linger for a moment longer, memorising the way the light kisses her skin, the curve of her bare shoulder, the slow rise and fall of her breath.

The air is cooler now that you’ve left the bed, the morning chill creeping in through the window, and you shiver as you slip one of her shirts over your head. The fabric hangs loosely on you, and the faint scent of her clings to it, reminding you of the closeness you’re so desperate to flee from. You stand in the centre of the room for a moment, staring at the bed where she still lies, peaceful and unaware, and you wonder how you’re going to explain this to yourself when you’re back in your own space, alone again.

Your eyes land on a piece of paper on the nearby table, and almost instinctively, you reach for it. You grab a pen and, without really thinking, scrawl your name across it in messy, hurried letters. You pause, staring at the ink, and after a moment, you add your number. You don’t know why you do it, but maybe it’s for you, more than for her. Maybe it’s a way to tell yourself that this wasn’t just some fleeting moment, that there’s a possibility – however small – that she might reach out to you again. It feels inadequate, a poor substitute for all the words you can’t bring yourself to say, but it’s all you can offer.

There’s a pang of guilt as you set the paper down, a sharp twist of regret that bites at the edges of your resolve. It would be so easy to slip back into bed, to curl up beside her and let the day pass by unnoticed, to bask in the quiet intimacy that feels both impossible and inevitable. But you can’t. You won’t. It’s easier to pretend you don’t care, easier to walk away before the morning sun can shine a light on all the things you’re too afraid to face. You draw a small smiley face next to your name – a sad attempt at levity, a parting gesture that feels empty and full all at once.

You wonder if she’ll be disappointed, or hurt, or if she’ll simply shrug it off as inevitable.

You pull her shirt tighter around you and with one last look at the apartment that’s already beginning to fade into memory, you slip out the door. The streets of Barcelona are still quiet, the city slowly waking up around you. You find a bus that heads in the direction of your own place, and you climb aboard, the seat cold against your skin.

You close your eyes, leaning your head against the window, and you wonder if this is what it will always be like – this push and pull between desire and the need to be alone, between wanting to be close to someone and the fear of losing yourself in the process.

You hope, for both your sake and hers, that you haven’t messed up something beautiful by running away. You think it’s easier to keep moving, to keep running, than to face the quiet truth that you’ve left behind someone who held you like you were something worth holding onto. And maybe that’s the saddest part of all – that you don’t know if you’ll ever let yourself be held like that again.

But that hope feels distant now, lost somewhere in the space between what was and what will never be, and as the bus carries you away, you let the memory of her slip through your fingers like sand.

You tell yourself it’s for the best, that you’ll forget her soon enough. You always do.

Don’t you?

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #alexia x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso x reader #barca femeni #barca femini x reader #espwnt #espwnt x reader

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starmocha · 4 months ago

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So the preview of the new theme song uses imagery of the guys' myths, including Sylus'. Rafayel, Xavier, and Zayne, I think we are all fairly familiar with, but since Sylus is not released yet, there are a lot of speculations about what kind of tragic past he and MC shared. Let's try to break it down. Or make it more confusing. 🫠

Interestingly, before the "tragedy" we see their wrists are bounded together by a red thread.....perhaps....the Red Thread of Fate? As the saying goes, rough paraphrasing on my part: Two lovers, regardless of time, place, and circumstances, are destined to be together, connected by a single red thread. The red thread may twist and tangle, but it may never break.

However, as we can see in the video, Sylus and MC's thread does break, and unlike in the traditional belief, their thread is wrapped around their wrists and not fingers. As the thread breaks, we also see Sylus behind bars. Imprisonment? A crime?

Speaking of wrists, another thing I've noticed with Sylus' trailers is that it involves handcuffs a lot, which seems more significant now in light of this preview.

Especially since we see him also breaking them so easily.

I kind of made a passing joke in the tags of a previous post that Sylus' upcoming chapters carry shades of the Greek myth with Hades and Persephone, but perhaps I may not be too far off?

Just take a look at this wide view of the scene of Sylus and MC separated:

The N109 Zone is shown during the night with a bright red moon, giving a feeling reminiscent of the Underworld ruled by Hades. Note how it looks like Sylus is behind bars, a prison, if you will. In Greek mythology, Hades was tasked with ruling the Underworld, not by his choice, but the wills of others (so in a sense: trapped). Could this mean that perhaps Sylus has no desire to be the leader of Onychinus? Could he be bounded there against his will?

Meanwhile, MC is shown on the side of light. If we compare her to Persephone, she is on the surface world with other people. But from the preview, it looks like she is abducted and taken to the N109 Zone, much like Persephone was abducted and taken to the Underworld to be Hades' bride.

(Brief unserious interlude, because I want to spread my Hades/Persephone agenda:

Sylus is the Hades to MC's Persephone

The dark to her light

He is feared by everyone except her.

He'll let her get away with everything (covering him in silly band-aids, poking him in the side) because he adores her.

If anything happens to her, the world will feel his wrath.

He embodies the feeling of "if anything happens to her, I will kill everyone in this room and then myself."

In short, scary leader is big softie for his wifey and I am willing to die on this hill

OK. End interlude.)

Also, um... 😭

Bringing up the theory that Sylus is trapped? The Beast is trapped in the castle because of the curse by an enchantress. I seriously couldn't get this comparison out of my mind when I saw the dancing scene in the trailer, so it feels appropriate to bring it up here.

Perhaps like the Beast initially, Sylus does display a very dominating and aggressive temperament, but then in his 5* memory, Captivating Flavor, he seems more approachable, so perhaps we will soften him over time?

Now...since Infold had the audacity to drop that trailer while I was writing this, here is another example of them going with the trapped/caged/bounded theory (there is also an image of a bear trap earlier, but I'm at my 10-pic limit, so the cage seems more obvious (and aesthetically pleasing lol)

So could Sylus be trapped in the same way as the Foreseer is trapped within the Tower? But unlike the Foreseer, Sylus is always trying to break free from his chains. Circling back to his myth, could it be that his tie with MC was broken...by him? Perhaps out of a sense of protection? For her sake?

In Beauty and the Beast, the Beast was willing to let Belle go, to be killed by Gaston, to succumb to the curse, all for the sake of Belle's happiness and freedom.

In the myth of Hades and Persephone, Persephone was allowed to leave the Underworld to return to her mother for half a year, but since she ate a few pomegranate seeds, food from the Underworld, she was also bounded to return to the Underworld for the other half to be with her husband. Each year, the cycle returns. Come spring, Hades must let his beloved wife leave him for half a year, and there's nothing he can do to change it.

Bonus Greek myth tidbit: the crow plays a significant part in a myth involving the sun god Apollo, where it acts as a messenger for him. The crow, once white, was burned and turned black, as retribution for telling the truth (revealing an affair) that led to Apollo killing his lover.

So, let's recap real quick the symbolism we have seen. 🤔

Handcuffs: bounded

Bars: imprisonment

Bear trap (couldn't include the pic, but it's there, trust me): caught, trapped

Birdcage: trapped, caged

The crow: a messenger; punished for revealing the truth (so, punishment)

So, gathering my random little thoughts...

Theory 1: Sylus and MC must have been destined lovers in a past life, but due to whatever conflict, Sylus decided to break his bond with her for her protection and accept any punishment that comes with it, which could mean to be ruler of a place he has no desire for, an imprisonment of sort.

Theory 2: Destined lovers, but perhaps a third party interfered out of jealousy or spite. Could Sylus have been caught and framed of a crime and been literally imprisoned, thus forcing him and MC to separate?

Something to this effect, I think, from working with the crumbs I've gathered. It's also almost midnight as of the time of writing this, so my brain is feeling loopy now (also no thanks to that Sylus trailer that popped up while I was writing this 💀)

Anyhoo, make of all of this as you will. My Hades/Persephone agenda will persist.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lnds ramblings #lnds analysis #so anyway i was going to post this last night #but then #infold dropped THAT video #and well #oh god i am still not ok #anyway #fam what you think #have i confused you all #😀

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music-in-my-veins14 · 6 months ago

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#Spotify #Songs Of Captivity And Freedom #Murray Gold #Doctor Who #Music

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shizuturnspages · 20 days ago

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curious what your thoughts are on venti, diluc and kaeya as yanderes? gotta show some love to the older genshin guys, and diluc still remains one of my fav characters in general!!

Diluc is literally my favourite character in Genshin, and I'm a Kaeya main. So this request is perfect for me

Yandere Venti

❥ Venti’s songs are famous across Mondstadt, but when he’s got his eyes on you, those songs are for you alone. He’ll weave subtle hints into his lyrics, making you feel like every note, every word, is about you. It’s intoxicating, but it’s also a trap—he’ll make you feel like you’re the center of his world, until you start craving that attention. And when you realize just how tangled you’ve become? Too fucking late. His melodies are like chains, binding you to him under the guise of love.

❥ Venti knows how to use his charm to keep you close. He’ll be there to cheer you up, lifting your spirits whenever you feel down, and he’ll make you think you’re the one choosing to stay with him. But it’s all calculated as hell—he’ll play the role of the carefree friend, the comforting presence, the one who always knows what you need. Before you know it, you’re completely dependent on him, and he’s got you right where he wants you.

❥ Venti is the god of freedom, but he doesn’t like sharing. If he feels like you’re getting too close to someone else, he’ll turn that charming nature into something far more dangerous. He’ll start showing up everywhere you go, interrupting conversations, casually pulling you away from anyone who seems interested in you. He’ll laugh it off, make it seem like it’s all a joke, but there’s a dark edge to his jealousy that you can’t ignore. He’s free as the wind, but when it comes to you? He’s possessive as hell.

❥ Venti might use his soft, gentle side to keep you close, making you feel like he’s the only one who understands you. He’ll make you laugh, comfort you, play songs that touch your soul. But when he’s alone with you, that softness shifts into something darker. He’ll hold you close, telling you in a soft, almost loving tone that you don’t need anyone else, that he’s the only one who’ll ever care for you the way he does. It’s terrifyingly intimate, like he’s casting a spell that binds you to him.

❥ Venti’s not shy about using his Anemo powers to keep you close. If you try to leave, he’ll summon a gust of wind to “guide” you back to him, all with that sweet, knowing smile on his face. He’ll play it off as a joke, of course, but there’s a gleam in his eye that says he means every word. You’re his favorite melody, and he’s not about to let anyone else steal the song. Once Venti’s claimed you, you’re bound to him, just like a note in one of his eternal, unbreakable ballads.

Yandere Kaeya

(I couldn't find good pics of Kaeya, so bear with this one)

❥ Kaeya’s damn good at drawing people in with his charm, and he’ll use every ounce of it to keep you close. He knows exactly how to make you feel like you’re the only person in the room, like he’s completely captivated by you. But his charm isn’t innocent—he’ll say exactly what you want to hear, making you feel like you’re special, while subtly isolating you from everyone else. By the time you realize just how deeply he’s woven himself into your life, it’s too damn late.

❥ Kaeya’s smooth as hell, but he’s not immune to jealousy. If he sees someone else getting close to you, he won’t cause a scene—he’s far too clever for that. Instead, he’ll undermine them subtly, making them seem untrustworthy or unreliable. With a few choice words and that calm, knowing smirk, he’ll turn you against anyone he sees as a threat. And if they persist? Well, Kaeya has ways of handling obstacles. People have a habit of disappearing when they get too close to what’s his.

❥ Kaeya’s role as Cavalry Captain means he’s got a way with strategy and people alike. He’s the one who knows all the secrets in Mondstadt, and he’s not above using that knowledge to keep you in line. If he feels like you’re drifting, he’ll pull strings within the Knights to subtly restrict your freedom, making it seem like he’s the only one you can rely on. He’ll manipulate situations so that you find yourself leaning on him, needing him—and he’ll do it all with that infuriating, knowing smile.

❥ Kaeya has a genuine, albeit twisted, desire to keep you safe. He sees himself as the only one who can protect you, and he’ll go to extreme lengths to do just that. If anyone threatens you, he’ll deal with it personally, making sure they know exactly who they’re dealing with. The other Knights might suspect something, but Kaeya’s too clever to get caught—and as far as he’s concerned, the ends justify the fucking means.

❥ As a member of the Knights of Favonius, Kaeya knows how to play both sides—he can work within the system, but he’s never above bending the rules. He might even use his position to monitor your movements, subtly influencing the Knights’ patrols to ensure you’re never out of his sight for long. The other Knights may see him as a bit of a loose cannon, but they respect his skill, and he knows how to use that respect to his advantage. Nobody’s going to question Kaeya’s actions too closely, and that gives him all the freedom he needs to keep you close.

Yandere Diluc

❥ Diluc’s the kind of guy who feels like he has to protect everything he cares about—and when it comes to you, that instinct becomes overwhelmingly intense. He’ll want to shield you from every danger, but his version of “safety” means keeping you right under his watch. His love isn’t just protective; it’s possessive as hell. He doesn’t just want you safe; he wants you with him, always. And if you resist? He’s not above using his influence to make sure you’ve got nowhere else to go.

❥ As Mondstadt’s Darknight Hero, he’s used to working in the shadows, handling the city’s threats without anyone knowing. If you’re ever in danger, he’ll be the first one there, taking down threats with a quiet, ruthless efficiency. And the thing is? He likes that you don’t fully know what he’s capable of. It keeps you vulnerable, reliant on him, needing him to protect you. When he’s got you in his grasp, he won’t let go. Ever.

❥ Dawn Winery is his sanctuary, his fortress, and he’ll make damn sure it feels like a safe haven for you too—though maybe a bit too safe. He’ll ensure you’re comfortable, but there’s always a subtle pressure to stay within those walls. He wants you at the winery, close to him, where he can keep an eye on you. He’ll go so far as to make it seem like outside threats are too dangerous for you to handle alone. Dawn Winery becomes more than just a home; it’s a gilded cage.

❥ That brotherly relationship with Kaeya is complicated as hell, and the animosity between them adds a dark edge to Diluc’s possessiveness. If Kaeya even so much as looks your way, Diluc’s eyes turn cold, and he’ll waste no time reminding his brother that you’re his. There’s a deep-seated need to outshine Kaeya, to prove that he’s the one who deserves your loyalty and attention. If Kaeya tries to get close to you, Diluc won’t hesitate to confront him, warning him with that fiery intensity to back the hell off.

❥ Diluc’s got this obsessive side that won’t let him rest until he’s sure you’re safe and alone with him. He’ll check in on you, even if you’re out of sight for just a moment, tracking every move you make to make sure no one else has a claim on you. His attention to detail borders on terrifying, and nothing slips by him. He’s practically everywhere, and you start to feel like you’re always being watched.

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withoutyouimsaskia · 9 months ago

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Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 1)

GIF: Originally posted by @tavners

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Home invasion. Voyeurism. Implied masturbation. Dream manipulation.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Wow, this took way longer to finish than I had originally planned. My head's been all over the place with trying (and thus far failing) to find a new job. The themes are very different to what I've written before; I hope it reads okay. Please let me know what you think. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

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Fate.

A phenomenon that governed every particle of matter within the known universe and even those beyond.

Some considered it a comforting concept that excused them from the burden of decision making, citing: "I'll leave it up to fate." For others the phrase was a cursory, throw-away comment or a romantic line they heard in the lyrics of a song.

The real truth of the matter was that Fate was a trio of immortal beings, goddesses, with sight so potent that they knew the past, present and future of every individual to have lived. The mythology of the Greeks, Romans and Norse hadn't been too far off with their stories of the Moirai, Parcae and Norns but of course, no humans really believed there to be any realism in myths. They were just stories. It didn't matter either way; they existed and had influence regardless of what the majority believed.

For beings such as The Endless siblings, the presence of Fate in the cosmos was not only real, but also something that affected even themselves.

For the King of Dreams, an eventuality had been prophesised long ago by The Kindly Ones that spoke of a bond that was to be forged between himself and a mortal.

Lord Morpheus, in his pride, had tried to be above such a foretelling, even questioning its validity because the notion of a mortal accepting his version of the universe seemed wholly implausible.

But he could not truly stop himself from wondering about you, reaching out to see if he could feel your presence in the minds of the dreamers he hosted.

It wasn't something he indulged in with frequency. More of a once-in a-decade interval. Enough to appease his curiosity.

Of course, this was put on hold during his imprisonment at Fawney Rig.

Morpheus had had much to contemplate during this period. The damage his absence caused to the collective subconscious, the decay of his realm, the loss of freedom and dignity. There was also a chance that you had been born and died in the 106 years he spent in captivity.

What if he was too late and had lost the chance of discovering who you were?

It was a nauseating prospect that scraped and scratched a space deep within his being; bleeding him of his remaining stores of hope that were so significantly depleted after the death of beloved Jessamy.

Despite the nasty emotional wound, finding you was a charge that he assigned at the end of his priorities after his escape.

Recovering his scattered tools, restoring the Dreaming, locating his absent creations, unravelling the mystery of Rose Walker and confronting Desire all had needed to come first.

The latter interaction had left Morpheus with a seething rage that was currently propelling him down the boards of the dock that sit above the Ocean of Dreams.

The dense mist in the air is buffeted by his movements and the only sounds are the tread of boots, the creak of wooden slats and the lap of water.

With each step, the liquid becomes choppier as it reacts to its master's mood and by the time he has reached the end of the dock, the surface of the water roils fervorously, completely in line with Morpheus' dangerous temperament.

The words of Desire's final silken-toned taunt echo in his mind with grating persistence.

"Oh, poor Dream. I really got under your skin this time, didn't I?"

He is loathe to admit there is truth in the question.

There are moments where Morpheus ponders the turn that the relationship between them has taken. How Desire went from being his favourite sibling to someone one shade shy of an adversary. Their faultless adeptness at provoking his temper and manipulating the events that encircle him would be impressive if not for the danger posed to humanity.

The agitated water eventually draws focus to how out of control he and his emotions have become. Morpheus knows he must get them in check, and quickly, for he knows the consequences all too well should he ignore it.

He clenches his fist and swallows it all down, pushing it deep inside his belly until the crackling entropy of the anger is fully dispelled.

Morpheus then sweeps his coat out behind him as he sinks lithely into a crouch. Trepidation nips at his heart and tugs his attention to a sobering thought.

This foray into the water may be fruitless.

You may be long gone and there would be no way of ever knowing you.

His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath; he has run out of excuses to not look, even if he is afraid of the outcome.

Long, delicate fingers dapple the surface of the inky ocean. The waves still at the touch, obedient to him with instancy.

He repositions to full height and reaches into his coat to find the pouch of sand stashed in the pocket. A handful of twinkling grains slip off his palm into the ocean, lighting the water it touches to a luminous green.

"Find my soulmate," Morpheus commands silently.

The intention is set. He steps off the dock into the water.

At first, like every other prior attempt, there is no sign of you. Morpheus floats submerged in the tepid liquid, filtering through the hubbub of countless other dreams and nightmares.

Then there is a pull.

It is faint yet indisputable. Warmth explodes in his chest and he groans inwardly from the delicious sensation of relief.

You are alive, and you are dreaming.

A path of radiance appears in the water, a line that shows your connection, and provides a location for him to hone in on.

Morpheus dives deeper without hesitation.

As he reaches the edge of your subconscious, he rejoices that he got a handle on his emotions. He wouldn't want your first perception of him to be one tinged with rage, however unaware you were of him, with your soulmate being the source.

He hesitates for a moment before entering the dream you are in and is somewhat taken aback by what he finds.

A room comprising of four blank walls, a floor, a ceiling and a door. There is but one other feature; a window, and its view is as non-descript and inoffensive as the internal space.

You stand by said window, head turned from him.

Despite being unable to see your face, he sees your anxiety with immediacy. It is an aura hovering about your body, being sucked into your lungs with every fast-paced breath.

You begin to throw glances towards the door. Morpheus filters through the layers of the dream. No one is scheduled to come across the threshold.

The more he observes, the more questions arise in Morpheus' mind.

What was making you so affected? What were you expecting to happen?

There's nothing in the scene that is intended to be unpleasant yet you are reacting in a way that most observers would characterise as unsettled.

Morpheus, despite not yet knowing you, doesn't like to see you this way. His dominant instinct is to end the dream but he quashes the desire to review the bigger picture.

The empty room dream was symbolic of a beginning.

It clicks into place.

What you were feeling, even if on a purely instinctual level, was the anticipation of meeting your soulmate and starting your new life.

Morpheus steps into the frame, just a couple of paces behind you.

You feel his presence instantly, eyes full to the brim with tears as you whirl around with a soft gasp.

You see him.

The tears spill and patter onto the white floor.

Morpheus reaches out, overcome by his need to provide comfort.

You disappear.

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Morpheus is sat on his throne. He pores over the book he had located in the Dreaming's library a little over a week ago that contains the details of your life. It is something he has taken to doing when the impatience of waiting for you to fall asleep becomes too keen.

Your subconscious has him enraptured, watching it every night as if it is a stage show. Each dream he delves into is like the tug of fingers on a loose thread, your psyche has begun to unravel before him.

Everything from whims to cravings, hopes to fears. Your temperament, the things that delight and irk you. What drives you and demotivates you. He consumes it all with an insatiable hunger.

Based on the projection of yourself that he sees, there is no doubt that he is attracted to you.

All that prior haughty disregard for the Fates' prophecy has been cast aside like a negative thought in a meditation session. Morpheus is a romantic. A believer. He is ashamed to have even doubted your coming.

He wonders if it would vex Desire to learn of him finding his soulmate and by extension, the prospect of companionship, perhaps even physical intimacy or love.

It is all too easy to imagine the sickly sweet grin they would smile at him, shown to be fake by the almost imperceptible contempt glinting in their golden eyes.

Would his triumph drive them to distraction?

It is this smug sentiment that spurs his next decision. He wants more. The next logical step is to find you in the waking world.

He rises from his throne, a sure hand ready to bring forth his pouch of sand when he falters.

Tears pool in his eyes.

His mind is suddenly marred with the memories of what happened in 1916. The agony, mortification and rage that followed. He couldn't go through that kind of treatment ever again and the waking world expanded the risk of it transpiring.

"No," he says resolutely. His sadness turns to resolve, the hard line of his grimace matching those set in his brows.

He will not let the actions of a group of mortals dissuade him from going to you. And besides, he has researched everything he can about you from within the safety of the Dreaming.

He takes a measure of sand and uses it to materialise within your bedroom.

It is obvious from a quick scan of it that deliberate attempts have been made to ensure the space is cosy and calming.

Two marshmallowy pillows support your head. The cotton sheets have been meticulously tucked to avoid drafts. A lavender reed diffuser fragrances the air with a subtle scent. There are no devices or screens visible.

Everything has its place. A coaster supported glass of water within reaching distance. Touch activated lamp in case of emergency. The diary lined up with the back left corner of the bedside table, pen placed parallel in the spine dent. All clothes are in the wardrobe or stashed in the laundry basket.

Morpheus moves to the curtain-shrouded window and delicately moves the dark, heavy fabric to catch a glimpse of the outside world.

The scene is sepia stained from an old streetlight positioned right outside your home. It explained the choice of curtains.

You stir slightly from the change in environment and Morpheus allows the curtain to fall back in place. He remains stationary until your breathing returns to its previous pace. It is imperative that his presence remains undisclosed. He knows that mortals do not take well to home invasion.

Then, your right hand slips out from the duvet cocoon revealing a cushion cut ruby ring on your middle finger.

He smiles exultantly. The similarity between the jewel and his own now-destroyed dreamstone was undeniable.

The Fates were making it transparent.

You were the one.

Morpheus approaches the side of your bed now. In your momentary discomfort, you had moved your head, making your whole face visible to your uninvited guest.

He bends gracefully so his face is closer to yours and observes you with an intent fascination.

Even in the gloom, Morpheus asserts that your features are even more captivating now that he is able to look upon them in person and is certain that if he could guarantee an absence of fear then he would fall to knees and worship you right there.

Fingers stroke a lock of hair splayed across the pillow and his thoughts turn darker still, imagining what he would do with you if he could get you alone in the Dreaming. How he would seduce you with words, and then pleasure your body with his own until you were senseless.

Getting you there would be so easy, all he needed to do was move his hand up and touch your skin and -

Morpheus stops himself, deciding that now is not the time for an introduction. He will wait until tomorrow. You need to rest. It will be quite the revelation for your sweet mortal heart.

Morpheus whispers a promise, "We will be together soon, my precious soulmate."

He leaves after taking one last look at your peaceful form.

When he returns to the Dreaming, Morpheus discovers that the visit has riled him way beyond what he thought possible.

It was supposed to sate his curiosity and answer some questions.

It has done the opposite.

His craving for you is sublimely intense, opiate-like in its ensnarement.

He needs to possess you. To have you all to himself. Everything would fall into place. Loneliness, disillusionment, jealousy; they would never darken his outlook again. You would heal him, he is certain of it.

He paces restlessly in the low light of his private chambers as heat ripples beneath the surface of his being, charging him with pure sexual lust.

He hungers for the moment when you feel the same about him.

For now, all he can do is stand and touch himself while thinking of your face, an act that has been carried out repeatedly in the days since he found you in the Ocean of Dreams.

An erotic idea enters his mind.

Your subconscious is still in the Dreaming; he knows the feeling of it intimately.

Perhaps he could bring you a dream mirroring his own current fantasy.

To give you a taste of what was to come.

A gift that only he could bestow.

The mere thought of it turns him on even more. His back arches and his eyes roll back as he choses the words through which he would deliver the offering.

"Dream of me," Morpheus murmurs breathlessly. "Dream of me."

He repeats the phrase until he is unable to continue, moans taking over the darkened space around him.

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It is dusk the next day when Morpheus returns to the waking world.

The instant he touches down on the Earth's surface, he knows exactly where to go. The metaphysical connection between you is as strong as the energy pulsing through a ley line.

The city he is directed to is thrumming with life but the side street he stands in has been spared from the furore.

It is fortuitous that he is permitted to be unobserved for Morpheus is struggling now with the urge to get closer.

Providence is pulling him in and also locking him out.

He walks up to the door and then an invisible force makes him back away.

He doesn't even try to fight it.

The Fates hold all the cards. Morpheus is beholden to their each and every whim.

It is surprisingly liberating.

He is dancing in the cross hairs. Blinkered by the tie the universe has fashioned for you.

All he has to do is wait.

The door to the building is pushed open.

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

Taglist: @herfantasyworldd

"Fate. Up against your will. Through the thick and thin. He will wait until you give yourself to him."

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w4w4lycsss · 3 months ago

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hey love, i was wondering if you could do young!hook x gn!reader who is like the god of the night like nyx and is super close with hades? thanks!!

NOCTURNAL WALK | JAMES HOOK

summary: You like to take walks at night around school and on one of them you "accidentally" scare Hook, who after meeting you falls in love with you Pairing: James Hook x gn!god of the night!reader a/n: I love the dynamics of Hook x god!reader, I would love for you to suggest more things!

You weren't a big fan of attention, but being the child of the goddess of the night it was inevitable to have the gaze of several people on you. You were not a direct relative of Hades, but being both powerful gods of dark magic they could not help but get along very well.

You were quite reserved and quiet, you had your moments of confidence when you wouldn't shut up for hours at a time, not to mention that you were a cheeky bastard who made jokes from the dark, a way of saying that no one saw you and you had freedom during the nights.

You had terrible habits for sleeping or concentrating, during the day you used to be quite tired or clumsy, since you slept little because you preferred to be active at night. You liked to walk at night when you got too stressed with so many jobs at once.

During one of your late night walks, where you were only wearing a hoodie with your hands stuffed in your pockets, you started humming a gloomy song that your mother, Nyx, sang to you when you were a child. The silence of the night was interrupted by the sound of heavy booted footsteps in some hallways not so far from where you were.

From what you remembered, Hades was the only one who wore boots so heavy that they made noise wherever he was. You decided to play a prank on him.

With a malicious smile, you snuck into the shadows until you teleported behind… him? You didn't really notice, you grabbed the person by the shoulders and jumped on them letting out a loud “BOO” while laughing out loud.

It wasn't Hades, he clutched his chest letting out a horrified scream as he looked at you over his shoulder.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He stopped walking, supporting his weight on his knees as he tried to regularize his breathing.

“Oh come on, it was just a scare.” You calmed your laughter just a little. “I thought you were Hades.”

“Why would Hades walk through school alone?”

“I don't know, why would you walk alone for school?”

He frowned, visibly upset by the shock. "Who are you?"

“Y/N.” You responded simply, still maintaining a smile that feigned innocence. “You haven't answered my question, what are you doing walking at this time of night?”

Your name rang in his ears, finally connecting the dots and relaxing his expression a little as he no longer saw you as a total stranger. “I like to sneak around, catch someone and prank them.”

“You sound like me.” You smiled at him, giving him a friendly nudge. "What was your name?"

“Captain Hook to you.” He smiled proudly, a gesture you let go. “What about you, what are you doing walking so late?”

“Oh, I go out very frequently. I love the peace there is, everything is so calm and quiet, it's perfect for me.”

You put your hands in the pockets of your sweater, looking at the clear sky bathed in stars while the full moon peeked over some trees in the academy courtyards. Maybe you didn't realize it at the time, but Hook analyzed your features under the delicate night light, becoming captivated by how unreal you looked, worthy of being identified as the son of a goddess.

He cleared his throat and stopped his thoughts too sentimental for a cruel and shameless pirate.

“Wow, you look very familiar with everything. “Is that why you look so tired during the day?”

“I fall asleep in class.” You admitted, laughing a little. “The few classes I attend I fall asleep, so I regain energy, I guess. I don't need that much energy either.”

“You are too kind to be a child of darkness.”

"Sorry?" You smiled ironically and somewhat offended, turning to look at him. “First of all, I am the child of the goddess of the night, not of darkness.”

“Whatever, it's the same. I mean, I imagined you more serious and cold.”

“Oh, no, not at all. I couldn't stand it, it would be boring. They would already have two serious guys, Hades and me, I prefer to be their opposite.”

Without saying anything with words but speaking to him with your eyes, you began to walk until you sat under a tree, he immediately followed your step and sat next to you without bothering to ask.

“I like you a lot more than Hades.”

“We were raised as brothers, we are the only gods to come to the Academy- do you like me?” You interrupted yourself.

“I already liked you when I knew you only superficially thanks to Hades, now that I'm getting to know you I can affirm that and I like you."

“Are we getting to know each other?” You tilted your head at him curiously, a glint in your eyes. “Are you going to tell me about yourself?”

He let out a dramatic sigh. “The only thing you should know is that I was born in Neverland.”

“And that hook is fake.”

“You hurt me.”

"I know." You shrugged and began to speak. “I was born and raised in Tartarus. I'm really not sure if my mother had me with a mortal, another god or on her own, it's like a taboo subject that I never cared much about.”

“You are a god and you do not know your descent?”

“In our family we don't care, only what you can contribute to Olympus. I'm learning to handle shadows with the help of Hades, even nightmares if necessary. Mother says I must make myself someone to fear.”

Usually if you were anyone else Hook couldn't be less interested in listening to you talk about his past and his family, but the aura you projected to him, so confident and genuine made him feel interested and eager to listen to you, as if your words were made of silk and he would They hugged gently.

His face flushed red at his thoughts and he realized that he had stopped listening to you just to admire you when you looked at him for an answer to some question.

“W-What did you say?” He smiled confused.

"Did you not hear me? Well, I was telling you that tomorrow Hades, Maleficent and I will play a prank with magic on some first-year students, I was inviting you to come but you seemed… distracted.”

“I wasn’t distracted.” He lied while rolling his eyes, returning to his attitude. “Yes, I'll see you tomorrow- I'll see you, I'll see you tomorrow.”

"Brilliant! I'll tell Hades. Until then, I’ll go to sleep.”

You got up from the grass and cleaned your pants of dirt, watching as he followed your movements with his eyes, confused.

“I thought you weren't resting.”

“You thought wrong.” You offered him your hand so that he could support himself in getting up, a gesture that he accepted hesitantly. “I need to rest if I want to be known as a god of nightmares, or shadows.”

“Nightmares sounds more threatening.”

"You think?" Hades says that sounds fool.”

“Hades is a fool."

You let out a laugh at his comment. “You really take a lot of risks.”

"What can I say? “I’m a pirate.”

“And we gods.”

“You are harmless.”

You let out a dramatic gasp, pretending to be offended. You turned and turned your back on him with a performance worthy of being called the child of Dionysus and not of Nyx. He let out a laugh but played along, coming up behind you and putting his hand and hook on your shoulders to try to make you turn around.

“Come on, Y/N.”

“Don't talk to me, Hook.”

“James.”

You broke your excellent performance with a tantrum and turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow in confusion. "Eh?"

“My name is James, James Hook.”

“James…” You replied in a whisper that only hit your lips. “Why are you telling me now?”

“I thought it would be a good time to tell you that you don’t have to call me like everyone else.”

You dared to look at him with a shine perhaps too affectionate for someone you had recently met beyond being the friend of whom you treated like your brother.

You cocked your head to the side as a genuine smile crossed your lips; He could only feel a bubbling in his stomach, but he didn't let it show because he rolled his eyes, in a good way, looking back at you.

The silence spoke to itself and the moon looked at them waiting for something to happen, feeling disappointed that your god magic did not allow you to break the bonds of expectation that you wanted others to see in you.

Maybe it was your mother, maybe it was the night itself, but an icy breeze gently stirred them, making you shiver a little, ruffling both of your hair and causing you to laugh awkwardly.

“Maybe I should leave already.” You laughed somewhat amused at the sudden cold. "See you tomorrow!" You said goodbye with a cheerful smile, waving your hand and starting to run towards the Academy.

“See you tomorrow…” He repeated quietly when you walked away, following you with his gaze. He let out a sigh in love for himself, looking at the place where you were before. "...Fuck…"

#descendants x reader #descendants rise of red #fanfic #male reader #descendants #gn reader #captian hook #hook x reader #james hook #james hook x reader #captian hook x reader

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icarusignite · 7 months ago

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PIRATE! ATEEZ MASTERLIST

The ships have come to carry you home Pairing: Captain Hongjoong x Runaway Princess Reader Summary: Weary of the gilded cage of royalty, you escape your opulent life, only to realize that your longing for freedom has landed you in the clutches of ruthless pirates. Determined to prove your worth, you must persuade the enigmatic captain to defy the bounty on your head.

Pairing: Siren Yeosang x Poacher Reader Summary: You have always lived by the code of the hunt, and as a skilled poacher of exotic creatures, the only law you abide by is that of your own survival. But when a lucrative contract tasks you with capturing a siren alive, you find yourself ensnared in a perilous game where delivering the prize without succumbing to your own guilt or its elusive song proves impossible. (coming soon)

Pairing: Ex-Naval Officer Jongho x Captive Reader Summary: As the daughter of the naval commander, you find yourself ensnared by the very pirates your father hunts. Among them, your most ruthless captor is none other than the man who once served your father but is now a deserter of the worst kind. As days turn to weeks, you uncover the hidden truths that drove him from the ranks of the navy, and through the eyes of your captor, you witness the cruel corruption that festers within the very force sworn to protect the seas. (coming soon)

Pairing: Cartographer Yunho x Pirate Reader Summary: When you find yourself marooned on a remote island after your ship is stolen, you must rely on your wits to survive. With the unexpected help of an old friend, you join a new crew ready to take back what was yours. Among your new allies is the soft-spoken cartographer, whose quiet strength and compassion offer you unexpected comfort. (coming soon)

Pairing: Explosives Master Mingi x Medic Reader Summary: Life as the ship's medic is no easy task, battling not only the fierce skirmishes and injuries typical of a pirate's life but also the ship's resident explosive expert, who constantly finds new excuses to seek your company, often accompanied by yet another injury for you to tend to. Despite your repeated warnings, his cavalier attitude toward safety continues to test your patience and skills, until his recklessness costs him more than he could ever anticipate. (coming soon)

Pairing: Lookout San x Spy reader Summary: You have managed to infiltrate a notorious pirate ship through deception and lies. Your mission: to pass on their secrets to their enemies. But navigating the perilous waters becomes increasingly difficult when you discover the all-seeing eyes of the ship's lookout, who seems to witness all and scrutinize your every move. Caught between the need for stealth and the watchful gaze that seems to penetrate your every facade, you must tread carefully, or risk being exposed and facing dire consequences. (coming soon)

Pairing: Firstmate Seonghwa x Ghost Reader Summary: Trapped for centuries within an ancient artifact as a restless ghost, you find yourself unexpectedly released by the intimidating first mate of a pirate ship. However, there's more to him than meets the eye, and as you struggle to adapt to a world you no longer recognize, he finds himself strangely drawn to you and your secrets. (coming soon)

Pairing: Quartermaster Wooyoung x Pirate Hunter Reader Summary: You have dedicated your life to eradicating piracy from the seas, but when a case of mistaken identity finds you on the wrong side of the law, you're forced to flee with the very crew you have sworn to destroy. Onboard the pirate ship, tensions run high, and you find yourself torn between your duty and an unexpected connection with the charming quartermaster who is determined to make you stay. (coming soon)

A/N: lol so Ateez at Coachella was my final straw and I absolutely had to write for them. This pirate/maritime theme has been rattling around in my head for a while so I'm excited to get into it. They're probably going to be one-shots or maybe 2 parters if they get long. Comment if you wanna be added to the tag list <3 will probably post the first one sometime next week cuz exams this week rip

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heartsandhischier · 8 months ago

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stranger

luke hughes x reader

summary - 1k words. In an attempt to unwind during the All Star break, Luke finds himself captivated by a stranger in the club inspired by the song: strangers - jay hayden

author's note - I've been kind of obsessed with writing about Luke lately, I have tons of drafts I've already written... lol

warnings - mentions of alcohol

The club pulsated with energy, a kaleidoscope of lights and thumping bass. the sparkling lights casting an ethereal glow over the dance floor where bodies writhed and moved in perfect synchrony with the music. All in contrast with the hockey player's introspective mood as he tries to unwind during the All Star break. Amidst the vibrant nightlife of New York City, Luke and some of his teammates sought solace from the usual grind of early morning practices and back-to-back matches. Yet, the unfamiliar surroundings left Luke feeling out of place, longing for the familiar embrace of the ice beneath his skates.

His teammates were a blur of motion and laughter, their voices blending together in a cacophony of excitement as they raised their glasses in toast after toast. They were in their element, basking in the freedom of the moment, but for Luke, the scene felt foreign.

He longed for the familiar comfort of the ice rink, where the rules were clear, and his place in the world was defined by the swift glide of his skates. But here, in this crowded club, he felt adrift, his confidence waning with each passing moment.

Trays of drinks arrived at their table with alarming frequency, each one greeted with cheers and whoops of delight from his teammates. Luke tried to join in, tried to lose himself in the rhythm of the music, but it was no use. Without his stick and skates, he felt like a stranger in his own skin, disconnected from the world around him.

His eyes scanned the throng of dancers, searching for something – anything – to distract him from his growing sense of unease. That’s when he spotted her. A vision of confidence and allure amidst the chaos, she moved with a grace that mesmerized him. Clad in a sleek black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, she seemed to command the attention of everyone around her. She was dancing, moving her body without a worry, the music seemed to dance around her rather than the other way around.

Luke felt his breath catch in his throat as he watched her, his heart pounding in his chest with a rhythm that matched the pulsating beat of the music. His teammates noticed his fixation and wasted no time chirping him mercilessly, their laughter ringing in his ears like a taunting melody.

“Hey Luke, what’s got you all hot and bothered over there?” Dawson jeered, nudging him with a playful smirk.

“Yo Luke, check out that hottie on the dance floor! You gonna make a move or what?” Alexander chimed in pointing towards the woman swaying her hips in the middle of the crowd.

Dawson again, playfully nudged Luke with his elbow, “Yeah man, you’ve practically drooling at the sight of her. Time to put on your big boy pants and go talk to her.”

Alexander chuckled at his comment as he made his way towards them from across the table, drink in hand. “Come on, Luke, what’s the worst that could happen? She turns you down? At least you’ll have a good story to tell.”

Their encouragement spurred Luke on, with each passing moment, his confidence grew. Finally, Luke built up the courage to push himself out of his spot, he took a hold of his drink downing it in one big sip as a form of liquid courage, before making his way towards the confident stranger.

As he approached the captivating stranger, his palms grew sweaty, his nerves threatening to get the best of him. But then she turned to face him, her eyes meeting with a playing glint, and suddenly everything else faded away.

“Excuse me,” he said, his voice barely audible above the music. “Mind if I join you?”

The stranger's smile widened as he looked him up and down, her gaze lingering on his face for a moment before she spoke.

“Depends,” she replied, her voice teasing. “Can you keep up?”

Luke felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins as he met her mischievous gaze, every nerve in his body suddenly nowhere to be found as a sense of determination washed over him.

“Only one way to find out,” he said, returning her smile with a confidence he didn’t know he possessed.

She playfully smirked as her hands snaked up his chest sending shivers down his spine. She took a hold of his arms gently but confidently placing them on her hips, before resting her own around his neck. Lost in the rhythm of the dance, the world around them seemed to blur into insignificance. With each sway of the hips pulling them closer and closer together. The energy of the club, the throb of the music, all of it paled in comparison to the current crackling through the small space that separated them.

Then, as if drawn by a force greater than either could resist, they found themselves closer still, the tension between them sparking with the promise of something more. It was in this charged atmosphere that Luke, emboldened by the moment and the undeniable connection he felt with her, made his move. Their eyes locked, a silent agreement of lust passing between them, and then their lips met in a kiss that sent shockwaves through them both.

The kiss was electric, a fusion of longing and passion that seemed to stop time itself. Around them, the music and the crowd faded into a distant hum, the only reality that mattered was the feel of her lips on his, the taste of her, the way she seemed to melt into him as if she belonged there. It was a moment of pure exhilaration, a confirmation of the attraction that had been simmering between them from the moment they'd locked eyes.

But as quickly as the moment came, it was torn away. The stranger was suddenly pulled back into the sea of dancers, a playful wink her only goodbye before she disappeared into the crowd, leaving Luke amidst the pulsating lights and music, his heart racing and his lips still tingling from their kiss.

The abrupt end to their connection left Luke reeling, a mix of euphoria and confusion swirling within him. The kiss had been real, the sparks undeniable. Yet now, as he stood alone on the dance floor, her absence felt like a sudden chill, the warmth of their encounter a memory that left him yearning for more.

#luke hughes #new jersey devils #njd #nj devils #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes x you #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader #new jersey devils x reader #new jersey devils fic #new jersey devils imagine #hockey fic

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