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morganas-pendragons · 2 months ago

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disbelief | elrond peredhel

gif by goodsirs

this is the hurt/comfort elrond fic I promised. enjoy!

summary: you and elrond mourn. Elrond asks something of you.

please let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future elrond or celebrimbor fics! this one may get a part 2 because the ideas are FLOWING!

tagging: @celebrimbormylove

SPOILERS FOR 2x08

You know your place is not in the heat of battle. Your gifting has always been music, the lithe fingers of a violinist meant to create beauty within the confines of Lindon's hold. You have made your peace with that.

it does not get any easier when you find out that The High King is having Elrond lead the Elven army to Eregion. Eregion, which is under siege, with Lord Celebrimbor right at the center.

Your heart aches. Celebrimbor is one of Elrond's most beloved kin, and you dread what he may find upon arriving at Eregion.

"He is best suited for this role, and you know it," Gil-Galad remarks as he strides across his study, leaving you to linger by the door as you nervously fiddle with your hands. It is the first time you and Elrond will be apart since your confession of feelings. It is not surprising you are apprehensive to watch him leave. "I do not make promises idly. If I promise that I will return him to you. You do trust my word, do you not?"

"I do, High King."

There's little you can say to Elrond when you meet him at the gate at dawn, still dressed in your nightrobes and tugging messily on your loose hair. It is a nervous habit that you have kept for quite some time that Elrond has tried to break you of by offering to braid your hair every night before you sleep.

You let him. If anything, you are always going to let Elrond treat you with that gentle love he only reserves for you. With those tender touches that cradle you as if you are his most precious, with those eyes that always seek out your own as if he finds respite within your gaze.

As if he finds the ability to embrace the Half-Elven he has hated for so much of his life.

"Meleth nin." Elrond's voice breaks through your reverie as he approaches to cradle your hands in his own. Your aspect softens as you shift closer to press your forehead to his. "You did not need to come see me off. The sun has barely risen over the hills."

"I wish to say goodbye to my beloved," You reply quietly. Reaching into your robes, you produce a handkerchief with your initials pressed into the corner and curl his fingers around it. You'd carefully doused it in the perfume you often wear since your first date in the gardens. "And to tell you to come home to me."

Elrond lifts the handkerchief to his nose and inhales deeply. It is a pleasant scent. One that provokes intimate memories bathed in light.

It is more than enough to keep him fighting.

"I will come home to you." His words are a declaration, a promise written between you both that is sealed with a handkerchief and a kiss shadowed by twilight as you part. "Until then, namárië, my love."

You are left alone at Lindon's gates to watch him depart with the rest of the Elvish army and Gil-Galad. He has specifically asked you to tend to the others who remain while they are both gone, claiming that your ability to create beauty amid such darkness and death was commendable.

The Elves would need it if they were to survive Sauron.

***

The word reaches you through one of the couriers that stumble through Lindon's tree line, bloodied and bruised but carrying a hastily scribbled note from the High King.

Eregion lost. Celebrimbor slain. Return to us with whoever remains in Lindon to this location.. protected by the 3 Rings of Power.

You hold your breath as you scan through the rest of the note.

Elrond is alive.

Relief floods through your body as you scramble back through the gates and begin calling orders to the healers and remaining survivors who remained behind to begin packing their belongings to travel. The group you lead is few, but many of them are in good spirits and are ready to tend to the wounded who fought bravely on the front lines of battle against Sauron.

You're halfway to Gil-Galad's disclosed location when you realize that he's said Celebrimbor has been slain. "Oh, Celebrimbor," You whisper, running the backs of your hands across your eyes as tears blur your vision. You had great respect and a deep admiration for the Elven Smith. He was one of the only elves you'd ever come across who could really understand the depth of your passion for the arts. "Be peaceful, my friend."

Elrond was surely beside himself with grief. You had to find him, and you had to find him soon.

Your party ventured into the cliffs of Gil-Galad's newest sanctuary, guarded by what Elven royal guards remained who guided you toward the waterfall where a makeshift medical tent sat proudly against the rays of sun that fell upon it.

Galadriel is the first to greet you. "It is good to see you, old friend," She greeted, wincing as you pulled your hand away from her shoulder like you had been burned. "I apologize. I was wounded in battle with Sauron."

"You were what-"

She shakes her head and motions to the smaller tent behind the main one. "I know that you have little in the gift of healing, but Elrond could use your care. I had him moved to the secondary tent for more privacy. He is.." Galadriel bowed her head and exhaled quietly. It was only then in that moment that you remember how old she really is. "Wracked with grief over Lord Celebrimbor."

Ah.

"Will you communicate to the King that I have arrived with the remainder of the survivors and healers from Lindon?" You ask. Galadriel complies, murmuring her goodbyes under her breath as you remove your belongings just beside the medical tent and begin your trek up through the center aisle to enter the one Elrond occupies.

You're nearly knocked off your feet by the smell. You have been spared violence and despair for most of your life. To be witness to such devastation brought upon by the hands of Sauron, and to your Elven kin, stirs an anger deep in your belly that you've never felt before. It hurts. It aches.

He sees you before you see him.

"My love?"

Your eyes flicker through the gap in the tent to find a head of matted, bloodied curls and red-rimmed, sunken eyes staring back at you. Elrond looks exactly like Galadriel has described him to look. He looks like the picture of grief.

That ache in your heart festers at the sight of him as you rush forward, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling yourself up and into his embrace. Elrond grasps you with all the force of a man desperately trying to anchor himself to the world when he'd so easily rather disappear.

"Elrond," You whisper. It is your assurance to know that he is here by that whispered repetition of his name, by feeling the warmth of his skin and the press of metal against your body as he clings to you. "My love-"

"Celebrimbor. Sauron, he-" Elrond snarls quietly into your shoulder as you begin to fumble with removing his armor. You have done it enough times now that the practice is coming more easily. "He took Celebrimbor and killed him. My father said his life was supposed to be in my hands. I tried.. I tried so hard to save his works, but the Uruk burned it and Celebrimbor is dead-"

You can hear the shame he directs at himself as you remove his armor and set it to the side. Elrond has so often taken the weight of other people's responsibilities and expectations upon himself. He wants to be remembered for something other than being Elros' brother, for being the Half-Elven who resides in Lindon. Many of the full-blooded elves have held disdain and contempt against him for something completely out of his control.

He could not control this. Could not control Celebrimbor's decisions or Sauron's actions.

"I mourn Celebrimbor with you, Elrond." You said. You move to step away and grasp the rag and water basin beside you, but Elrond's grip on your body makes it difficult to move. You pause in your place and turn to face him once again, surprised to find his eyes hidden from you and face cast toward the floor. His fingers shake where they lay against your body. "Elrond?"

"His legacy went up in smoke. The Nine are gone, Feanör's statue desecrated, his prints and his works ashes. We don't even have a body to bury. How do we honor him?" His voice breaks as Elrond, for the first time in all the time you have known him, admits defeat. "How do I honor him when I failed?"

You manage to reach far enough to grasp the wet rag between your fingers and turn to face him as you drag it over the stained skin on his face. Elrond's silent tears track down clean, softened skin, and you wipe those away with your thumbs as they come.

"What if we have a funeral?" You suggest. "I will play at it, but I think you need to orchestrate and speak. Galadriel and the King would be grateful for it as well. We all loved Celebrimbor. As did I. He was one of few who could appreciate my artistry as I could his. Let his grave mark the new beginning we have here. Let that be the way to honor him."

Elrond doesn't break the silence for several minutes. He simply allows himself to bask in being alive, in you being alive here with him in this little tent far away from the war and from Sauron. You could build a life here. A home.

That is what he wants to do.

He does not dare speak until you are finished and washing the rag used to clean his arms and face. "I would very much like to do that with your assistance, nin mel. You are the only one I know who could create such beautiful things out of such darkness and travesty."

You playfully roll your eyes and tap the end of his nose with your finger. "You humor me, Commander." You muse. Elrond lets you go long enough to watch as you move his armor to the corner of the room and motion to the tub of hot water the healers had prepared while you were cleaning him. "Now humor me more and get in the bath. You smell foul."

Elrond's laughter is a balm to the ache in your heart. You too will miss Celebrimbor dearly, but you cannot afford the luxury of grief when he is so deeply engrossed in his own.

"Humor me. I have a request, aside from the funeral."

"That sounds more like a demand." You tease. "Go on."

"Remain here with me when the rest of Lindon's elves return home. Build our home here. With me. Build Imladris. Help me honor Celebrimbor."

The shock of his statement sends the objects in your arms clattering to the floor. He wants to do what?

#Elrond x Reader #Elrond Peredhel x Reader #Young Elrond x Reader #rings of power #rings of power fanfiction

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ffhhfff · 4 months ago

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Father, into Your hands I commend my spirit🙏

#travis phelps #sally face #sally face art #sally fisher #larry johnson #todd morrison #ashley campbell #sally face au #sally fanart #art #artists on tumblr #digital art #digital drawing

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solarisfortuneia · 2 years ago

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— glimpses of life.

misc. scenarios with them. (ft. diluc, childe, kaeya, kazuha and xiao.)

diluc ragnvindr.

“diluc, can we please, please go to starsnatch cliff today?” you plead on one fine day, tugging at his sleeve.

never one to deny your requests and always one to indulge your whims, he glances at his desk. “well, I am done with a considerable amount of work, so i don't see why we can't.” he kisses your temple and lightly pats your head. “we’ll go after lunch, beloved.”

you cheer, a sparkle in your eyes, and a million flowers bloom in his heart; an ever-growing garden.

true to his words, he takes you there later that day. while you take pleasure in the view and the feeling of the wind, he relishes in your smile and the pure, unbridled joy you exude. he's seen a thousand views over the years, but he knows nothing will ever come close to the one in front of him.

“diluc, look.” you call his name, and he lifts up a hand in acknowledgement. “look at what i found!”

he walks over with a curious expression on his face. you gesture to the flower in your hand, and he looks at it, confused, brows knitted. “my apologies, my heart, but i believe that’s just a cecilia?”

you shake your head with a mysterious smile dancing on your lips. “no, no, look closely, this one’s special.”

he runs his eyes over it again, analyzing the color, the shape of the petals and the green of the leaves. “it looks exactly like the others, my love.”

you sigh, dramatically looking at the sky. “no, my dear darling diluc, this one’s different from the rest,” you meet his eyes once more, and he sees mischief dancing in them. “it’s different because—” you drag it out for as long as you can. he raises an eyebrow at your familiar dramatics. “—this one right here, is the one i think would look the best in your hair.” he coughs in surprise, not expecting that answer and your grin almost splits your face in two.

“it would look quite delightful against the red, wouldn’t it?” you press on.

“whatever you say, beloved.” he tries his best to keep his expression neutral, but his voice wavers. you grin wider

“come closer, then! let me put it there for you.”

he leans over, allowyou to secure it in place behind his ear. “well, what do you think?” he looks at you, fondness swimming in crimson eyes.

“beautiful.” the one-word response takes him by surprise and a blush spreads over his face. “diluc, you’re starting to look like your hair now. you're very cute, aren't you?”

he groans, head in his palms. “whatever will i do with you?”

“love me, hopefully.” that he does, with all of his heart.

and many moons later, you find the same flower carefully pressed and preserved between the pages of his journal. a tiny heart proudly adores the caption: a gift, from my beloved.

childe.

the day began perfectly. the sky was clear, the sun was shining, and a periodic breeze blew throughout the harbor. and it stayed that way, until childe decided it was a great day for a sparring match.

it was fine in the beginning; you were able to keep up. however, seeing as you lacked his inhuman stamina and thirst for battle, your energy drained far quicker.

after a long—too long in your opinion— session, you crumple onto the ground, exhausted beyond measure.

“come on, sweetie, you can do better than that!” he says, playfully spinning his weapon. “what happened to all that spirit i saw earlier today?” he kneels down next to you. “let’s go for another round, shall we?”

“no thanks,” you grumble. “i’m perfectly fine here. the ground and i are friends now.”

“aww,” he adopts an expression of mock disappointment, then chuckles. “although, i must admit, you really were commendable today.”

he stands up and offers you a hand. “let’s head back, i’m dying for something refreshing.”

“fine.” you huff. you take his hand and get up with a groan. you expect him to let go after you’re situated securely on your feet, but he tightens his grip and shoots you a bright grin instead.

and in spite of your exhaustion, you return it almost instantaneously.

as you walk to your destination together, he swings your intertwined hands over and over again, chattering away, and you can’t help but think that maybe the day wasn’t so bad after all.

kaeya alberich.

the long, grueling day left you an equally unpleasant souvenir to deal with: a horrible, awful headache.

kaeya, perceptive as ever, notices the minute you step through the door.

“are you okay, sweetheart?” he holds your face in his hands, concern written all over his expression.

you nod, slowly. he raises an eyebrow and gives you a long, serious glance. you correct yourself. “terrible headache. i feel like something a horse left behind.”

he chuckles lightly. “oh, my poor sweet baby,” he coos. “let’s get you something to alleviate the pain, shall we, dearest?”

he gathers pillows and blankets and makes a soft, cuddly pile for you to rest in. once he helps you settle in, he wraps you up in one of the blankets. “there we go,” he strokes your hair. “close your eyes and relax, i’ll make something warm for you.”

and make something warm he does. once you open your eyes after a half hour, you find a plate of your favorite food awaiting you.

“say ah.” a spoon enters your field of vision.

“kaeya! you don’t have to feed me!” you pout at him. “i can do it myself,”

he hums, “i know, but i want to. now,” he brings it closer to your lips. “hurry up and eat before it gets cold.”

a warm belly and an hour later, your head rests in his lap while he massages your forehead. “does that feel good?” his long, lithe fingers rub circles into your temples and gently press the bridge of your nose.

“like heaven.” you smile, “i feel much better now. thank you,” you motion with your hands. “for everything.”

“i’m always at your service, my angel. and i do it with pride.”

kaedehara kazuha.

“oh dear, it appears that our timing may have been off,” raindrops fall onto his outstretched hand, and he looks up at the cloudy sky.

“don’t worry,” you smile at him, “i’m sure i have an umbrella here with me.”

“or,” he catches your wrist before you can reach for your bag and intertwines your fingers. “we could forego the umbrella entirely, and enjoy the rain in all its glory?”

you look at him sideways, “kazuha, i love you very much, but this idea of yours could make us fall sick.”

“my lovely blossom,” he brings your hand up to place a featherlight kiss, fleeting, delicate and gentle. “if you were to fall ill, I promise you that without a shadow of a doubt, i would be by your side the whole time.”

“and what about you?”

“me?” he laughs, carefree, airy, and so very endearing, sound melding beautifully with the pitter-patter of the rain. “i’d say a small cold is worth a few moments of absolute freedom, wouldn’t you agree?”

his eyes are eager and pleading, and you cannot find the heart to deny him of his request. a grin tugs at the ends of his mouth, and you know that he knows exactly that.

“fine,” you nod your head, fighting off a smile of your own. “i suppose we could, just this once.”

“thank you, dearest.” he tugs you closer to his chest. “now, listen closely, or you might miss it.”

you strain your ears, concentrating very hard on your surroundings. at first, all you can hear is falling water, which soon gives way to chirping birds and crickets, a harmonious symphony that seems to have been tailor made just for the both of you.

“it would be a shame to let this music go to waste,” he says, bowing, “would you do me the honor of a dance, starlight?”

he pulls you out from under your temporary shelter and twirls you round and around until you’re laughing, and he is too. your feet move in erratic motions, yet rhythm thrives in every single step. droplets trickle down both your bodies, weighing down your clothes and hair, but you pay it no mind.

and there, with him, a blur of red against the grey sky and trees of jade and olive, you think of exactly how blessed you are to have him with you.

xiao.

another week, another random disappearance. xiao looks at you suspiciously as you make an almost unbelievable excuse. “i need to go to the harbor to check if my shipment of inazuman ore has arrived,” you tell him as you fail miserably in hiding a note behind your back.

“i need to check if granny shan’s made the kites i asked her to,” another poor excuse.

he remembers every aspect of your mercantile business that you’ve told him about so far, and he knows full well that the shipment you’re speaking of arrived last month, and he knows that the kites have been delayed by another three weeks because of a priority order, yet he says nothing.

this constant cycle continues for over a month, and he stays silent each and every time, opting to give you space and not step over the threshold of your privacy. after all, you had your life, didn't you? he didn't share every aspect of his own with you, and in his view, you shouldn't be expected to either.

so he leaves it be.

until one day, he hears a faint call of his name in the wind. he recognizes the voice almost instantaneously and he teleports there just as fast. he sees you, leg stuck under a huge rock and a cart overturned on the side of the path.

“what in the name of rex lapis were you trying to accomplish?” he asks, after he’s freed you.

“nothing!” you shake your head, slowly rotating your ankle. “i was just heading back to the inn.”

he raises an eyebrow, but accepts it nevertheless. sighing, he kneels down. “is your leg alright?”

you nod. “don’t worry, the weight of the boulder wasn’t on my leg, i just couldn’t move it.”

he escorts you back to the inn, as reserved as the night, with not a single unnecessary word. only once the two of you are in your quarters does he shatter the silence.

“i have been observing you for days now,” his eyes are slightly narrowed. “what are you trying to do?”

you look down, awkwardly rubbing your neck. “this isn’t how i hoped to tell you but,” you reach for a small pouch. “this is for you.” you wait till he takes it and continue, “the reason i’ve been acting so strange lately is because i was having this made for you.”

he pulls the drawstring open and finds an amulet, made of the most delicately cut amber he’d seen till date.

“you know how amber helps to clear and cleanse negative energy?” you fiddle with your fingers, looking down at the ground. “i thought it might help you with your karmic debt. it symbolizes good luck in battle too.”

he makes a noise halfway between a snort and a grunt. “my karmic debt is not your responsibility.” he turns it around. “besides, we adepti have no need for such a trinket.”

you smile. “i know. think of it as a way to assure my peace of mind?”

“hmph.” he looks away. “fine. if that is what you wish.” his face softens. “thank you for thinking of me.”

“i’m always thinking of you, xiao. especially when you’re out cleansing the land.”

red rises to his face. “tch. you truly have no respect for an adeptus and their skills.”

he says that, yet every time you see him, the amber amulet sits just below his collarbone, gleaming proudly in the light.

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orion-archives · 5 months ago

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The father, the son and the unholy spirit

Father, into your hands I commend my spirit

Father, into your hands

Why have you forsaken me?

In your eyes forsaken me

In your thoughts forsaken me

In your heart forsaken me, oh

GOD.

I think this is my most detailed fanart yet and I'm really proud how this piece came out! It even has texture over textures.

I was severely inspired by medieval religious paintings and a little bit on renaissance ones. I wanted this fanart to look old and feel like the time had worn out some of the paint and colors, making them less vibrant but with that special look I love in old paintings.

There are so many details and meanings I put on this drawing, so keep an eye on that and I may or not keep my secrets about Kaon and his lore! ;]

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ms-snape · 2 months ago

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hey I noticed you haven’t done any Lucius Malfoy fics yet, and I’d like to request one if you’re open to it, the reader is a strong-willed witch who doesn’t fall for his usual charm? Lucius is used to getting whatever he wants, but the reader constantly challenges him, and it intrigues him in a way no one else has. Over time, Lucius starts to realize that he’s genuinely falling for her, and there’s a slow-burn romance as they go from tension-filled encounters to mutual respect, then love. Lots of witty banter, hidden vulnerability from Lucius, and a surprisingly soft, romantic confession at the end.

Title: Charm

Warning: None, lucius being lucius

Words Count: 2000+

Masterlist

---

The Ministry of Magic was a labyrinth of enchantment and bureaucracy, a place where power dynamics shifted like the tides. Y/n Y/l/n, a strong-willed witch and a respected potion master in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, had learned to navigate its complexities with grace and determination. Her talent and hard work had earned her respect, but it was her unwavering spirit that truly set her apart.

As she walked through the bustling atrium, she could feel the gazes of her colleagues—some filled with admiration, others tinged with envy. Y/n had always found herself on the fringes, content to focus on her work rather than engage in the political machinations that often defined life at the Ministry. Yet, it was the whispers of a certain silver-blonde wizard that broke through her concentrated bubble.

“Good morning, Y/n,” Lucius Malfoy greeted her, his voice smooth and dripping with charm. He leaned casually against a pillar, the epitome of aristocratic elegance. “I must say, your dedication to your work is admirable. Most would have crumbled under the pressures of this place by now.”

Y/n glanced up, her brow slightly raised. “And yet here I am, standing tall,” she replied coolly, matching his tone. “Flattery won’t earn you any favors with me, Malfoy.”

“Flattery?” He chuckled softly, his icy blue eyes twinkling with amusement. “I merely speak the truth. Your determination is commendable.”

Her heart raced as she held his gaze, the playful banter igniting something within her that she hadn’t expected. She had long since learned to see through his polished facade, understanding that behind the charm lay a man accustomed to getting what he wanted. But Y/n had never been one to succumb easily.

“Save your compliments for someone who might appreciate them,” she said, her voice firm. “I’m not interested in becoming another feather in your cap, Lucius.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly masked by his usual composure. “Is that so? I find it refreshing, really. Most women seem eager to bask in my attention.”

“That says more about them than it does about you,” she shot back, walking past him with purpose. She felt the heat of his gaze on her back, and she couldn’t help but smile to herself.

Days turned into weeks, and their encounters became a familiar rhythm, a dance of words and glances laced with underlying tension. Y/n would catch herself thinking of Lucius more often than she cared to admit. He intrigued her with his intellect, challenged her with his wit, and made her question her own perceptions of power and vulnerability.

Lucius, on the other hand, found himself drawn to her in ways he had never anticipated. The thrill of their verbal sparring ignited a fire within him, and he began to look forward to their encounters. No one else had dared to challenge him so boldly, and he found her spirit intoxicating. It was a contrast to the women he had known, who had often been content to admire him from afar.

One particularly dreary afternoon, Y/n found herself in the Ministry’s expansive library, surrounded by stacks of books as she searched for an elusive potion recipe. The dim light cast a warm glow over the dusty volumes, creating an atmosphere of quiet reflection. She was so engrossed in her task that she barely noticed Lucius approaching until she felt his presence beside her.

“Lost in thought again?” he asked, his voice smooth and teasing.

Y/n glanced up, suppressing a smile. “Just doing some research. What brings you here, Malfoy? Surely you have more important matters to attend to.”

He leaned against the table, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on her. “I could say the same for you. Researching potions when you could be enjoying the finer things in life?” His smirk was infuriatingly charming.

“I enjoy what I do,” she replied defensively, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. “Not everyone needs the thrill of high society to find fulfillment.”

“Touché,” he said, amusement flickering in his eyes. “But wouldn’t it be better to have a little fun? Life is far too short to be buried in books, even if they are as fascinating as you make them seem.”

Y/n straightened, her eyes narrowing. “You mean the kind of fun that leads to empty flirtations and false promises? No, thank you. I prefer to keep my life meaningful.”

Lucius’s expression softened slightly, his facade slipping ever so slightly. “I admire your conviction, Y/n. It’s refreshing to see someone who knows what they want.”

Their eyes locked, the air between them thick with unspoken words. Y/n felt a flutter in her chest, a spark of something deeper than mere attraction. But she quickly quelled it, reminding herself of the walls she had built around her heart.

As weeks turned into months, their encounters grew more charged. Lucius began to seek her out more frequently, often finding reasons to linger near her office or cross paths in the halls. Each meeting was a mixture of tension and exhilaration, a game of verbal chess where neither was willing to yield.

One day, as they walked through the Ministry gardens during a rare moment of respite, the sun filtering through the leaves, Lucius turned to Y/n with a seriousness that caught her off guard. “You know, there’s more to me than what you see on the surface.”

She raised an eyebrow, curiosity piquing her interest. “Is that so?”

“Many view me as simply a wealthy, influential pureblood wizard,” he continued, his voice low. “But I’ve faced my share of struggles, Y/n. I’ve fought against expectations and the shadows of my past. It’s exhausting, and I wonder sometimes if anyone sees beyond the facade.”

Y/n felt a pang of empathy for him, understanding that beneath his charming exterior lay a man grappling with his identity. “I can relate to that,” she admitted softly. “I’ve often felt the weight of expectations myself. People assume they know me, but they rarely take the time to understand who I am.”

He paused, their eyes locking as a shared vulnerability lingered between them. “Perhaps that’s why I find you so compelling. You challenge me, push me to question who I am and what I truly want.”

“Is that what this is?” she asked, a hint of uncertainty in her voice. “A challenge?”

“Perhaps,” Lucius replied, a smile tugging at his lips. “But it’s more than that. I’m beginning to realize that I want to know you—really know you.”

Y/n’s heart raced, and she felt the heat of his gaze. “Lucius, this isn’t—”

“It’s not just a game,” he interjected, stepping closer. “I’m not asking for a fling; I’m asking for something real. I want to explore this connection we have, to see where it leads.”

His sincerity struck a chord deep within her, and for the first time, she felt the walls she had built begin to crumble. But fear still lingered, casting a shadow over her heart. “What if we ruin what we have?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Then we will face the consequences together,” he assured her, a determined gleam in his eyes. “But I’d rather take that risk than live a life filled with regrets.”

Their eyes held for a moment longer, the world around them fading away. Lucius’s heart raced, anticipation mingling with hope. He had never felt so vulnerable, so exposed, but he knew he couldn’t walk away. Not now.

“Okay,” she said finally, her resolve wavering. “Let’s see where this takes us.”

With that, their relationship began a delicate transformation. They spent more time together, sharing moments both grand and intimate, navigating the complexities of their lives with newfound honesty. Y/n discovered layers to Lucius that no one else had seen—the thoughtful, introspective man hidden behind the mask of privilege and power.

In quiet moments, they would share laughter and stories, and Y/n found herself enjoying Lucius’s company more than she had ever imagined. He would often watch her with an intensity that made her heart race, as if he were trying to memorize every detail. In turn, Y/n began to see glimpses of vulnerability in Lucius, moments where he let his guard down and revealed the man he truly was beneath the polished surface.

But despite the growing bond between them, doubt occasionally crept in. Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that Lucius was still bound by the expectations of his past, the weight of his family legacy hovering over them. It was a nagging thought that made her question the foundation of their connection.

One evening, while attending a Ministry gala, Y/n stood by the window, gazing out at the stars. The ballroom buzzed with laughter and conversation, but she felt out of place amidst the opulence. Lucius approached her, his presence grounding her in a way that soothed her insecurities.

“Why so pensive?” he asked, his voice a low murmur as he joined her at the window.

“I don’t belong here,” she admitted, her gaze still fixed on the horizon. “These people… they don’t see me. They only see my title, my work.”

Lucius turned to face her, a seriousness etched on his features. “You belong here just as much as anyone else, Y/n. You’ve earned your place through hard work and talent.”

“Do you really think so?” she asked, turning to meet his gaze.

“Absolutely,” he replied, sincerity resonating in his voice. “You have a strength that commands respect. I admire that.”

She felt warmth bloom in her chest, a flutter of hope igniting. “Thank you, Lucius. That means more than you know.”

He studied her for a moment, the weight of his thoughts hanging in the air. “There’s something I need to confess.”

Y/n’s heart raced as she sensed the gravity of his words. “What is it?”

“I’m falling for you, Y/n,” he admitted, his voice steady yet vulnerable. “In a way that I never thought I could again. It terrifies me because I know my past is complicated, but you make me want to be better.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt her heart swell at his honesty. “Lucius…”

He took a step closer, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone—not even Narcissa. You challenge me in a way that makes me want to shed my past and become someone worthy of you.”

Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes as she fought against the emotions flooding her heart. “I didn’t expect to feel this way either. You’ve surprised me.”

“Then let’s surprise each other,” he said softly, reaching for her hand. “Let’s build something real together.”

In that moment, the world around them faded into oblivion, leaving only the two of them and the connection that had blossomed between them. Y/n felt a surge of warmth as Lucius intertwined their fingers, a gentle yet firm grip that spoke volumes of his intentions.

“Okay,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Let’s take this journey together.”

With their hearts laid bare, Y/n and Lucius stepped into a new chapter of their lives, one filled with uncertainty but also hope. They faced challenges head-on, navigating the complexities of their emotions and the scrutiny of those around them. Together, they forged a bond that transcended the expectations of their pasts, proving that love could flourish even in the most unexpected places.

As the seasons changed, so did their relationship. They shared stolen moments in quiet corners of the Ministry, laughter echoing in the hallways as they exchanged witty banter. Lucius began to show her the parts of himself he had long hidden, revealing his vulnerabilities and fears. Y/n, in turn, opened up about her aspirations and dreams, her passion for potions igniting new conversations between them.

One crisp autumn evening, as they walked through the vibrant foliage of the Ministry gardens, Lucius paused, his expression serious yet tender. “Y/n, I want to take this to the next level. You’re not just a challenge anymore; you’re the woman I want by my side.”

She stopped, her heart racing as she searched his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I want to be with you, truly,” he said, his voice steady. “I’m ready to leave the past behind and build a future together.”

Tears welled in Y/n’s eyes as his words washed over her, a wave of relief and joy flooding her heart. “Lucius, I… I want that too.”

In that moment, surrounded by the golden hues of autumn, they embraced their love fully, ready to face whatever challenges awaited them. Lucius brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, his gaze softening as he leaned closer. “Then let’s make it official.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, confusion mingling with excitement.

Lucius smiled, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “I mean, I want you to be my partner in every sense. I want to show you off, to declare to the world that you’re mine.”

Her heart swelled with warmth, and she couldn’t help but laugh, a joyful sound that echoed through the garden. “I would like that very much.”

“Then it’s settled,” he declared, a triumphant smile gracing his lips. “Prepare yourself, Y/n Y/l/n, for a life filled with love, laughter, and perhaps a little mischief.”

And as they walked hand in hand, Lucius realized that he had finally found what he had been searching for—a love that was genuine, transformative, and utterly real. In Y/n, he saw the reflection of a future he had never dared to dream of, one where they could conquer the world together.

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