#and he is happy. he is the grand master. he knows all

[akkivee]

some stuff that made me happy reading this event lol

this other temple was putting on a parade for nagoya and asked for kuukou’s help putting it on bc none of the direct lineage wanted to

kuukou called out it’s bc it’s too teemed in tradition to garner interest in the youth and vowed to rework the entire concession lol

so kuukou’s tengu costume is kuukou’s design sense 😌😌😌

upon accepting the role as tengu, kuukou proceeded to basically larp around nagoya as a tengu, even outside of wearing the outfit lmao

like tengu are usually known to defeat demons and the antagonists in this event wore demon masks so kuukou tended to say that bc he’s a tengu, he’s gotta rid the town of demons LOL

doppo got his briefcase stolen by the group of demon masked delinquents determined to ruin the parade and had one of his depressive episodes about it in front of kuukou, but since kuukou doesn’t really know doppo that well he hesitated whether or not he can just slap him out of it like he would have with say, jyushi in vkei mode lol

kuukou: *upon seeing doppo’s done with the self-flagellation* well welcome back to the mundane world after your little trip to the spirit world. you good now??

saburo is prickly no matter who he’s with outside of ichiro lol, but it was kinda fascinating to see him greet kuukou fairly neutrally lol

they eventually found the demon masked delinquents and kuukou threw a shop sign at them to stop them from running away. kuukou laughingly said it must’ve been fate that he was able to knock two birds with one stone and he’s the worst 💜💜💜

bc the delinquents were terrified of kuukou upon realising who attacked them, kuukou was able to tell not only that they were locals, but that the head of their little group was actually the son of the temple head who asked him to precede over the parade

said son had been excommunicated from the buddhist community, likely for his garbage behaviour, and his father expressed jealousy that shakku had such a dutiful son to inherit his temple

kuukou, in order to protect the parade, created the grand master plan of letting the parade run as he intended, but to create a spectacle out the tengu (him) ridding the town of demons (beating up the delinquent son LOL)

y’all do not understand the amount of glee kuukou had getting to chase down that delinquent for all of nagoya to see LMAO

samatoki had two roles in this event; to tease his fans that he wore a suit to a wedding but you don’t get to see it (arb🤝hypdream) and to choke the life out of the delinquent for rudely bumping into him 😌

sasara had two roles in this event; to take samatoki out (on a date) to this vintage clothing store he once covered on a show, and to give his condolences to the fool who bumped into the yakuza with no remorse 😌

before samatoki could kill do further damage to the delinquent lol, kuukou swooped in, chiding samatoki for nearly swiping his prey and threw his sandal at the delinquent, knocking him out instantly lmao

samatoki: fcking btch, getting knocked out by a clog 😒

and so the scene the citizens of nagoya walked in on was the delinquent laid out bleeding (it was paint lmao) surrounded by the tengu and these two other guys and normally that would be cause of concern lmao but it a good thing saburo and doppo took on the role of crowd control and told the people ‘wow!!!! look at how heroic our tengu was!!!!!’

they were our kuukou glazers basically LOL (god i wish that were me)

[imwritesometimes]

my uncle is the kinda ~leftist~ guy who will say shit like 'DEI is essential to ensuring women are properly recognized and compensated' and 'I'm pro-choice and donate to planned parenthood' and then 30 minutes later will say the most vile, misogynistic shit about his own mother & sister with the ease of someone ordering off the dollar menu at mcdonalds

[ahqkas]

Hello! ^^

First, just wanna say your blog is amazing. Second, what kind of shenanigans do you think would ensue with the batboys having a hyper physically clingy S/O? Like their S/O would get so excited they're home and just tackle hug them before they make it past the door kind of clingy.

♯ FRIDAY I’M IN LOVE . . . ( the batboys ! )

— gn!reader, fluff

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

BRUCE WAYNE

bruce wayne, the ever-composed patriarch of the family, would at first have no idea how to handle such enthusiasm. his s/o being hyper-physically affectionate would probably throw him completely off-balance at first—not because he doesn’t enjoy the affection but because he’s not used to being greeted like that.

( the door creaks open as bruce steps inside the manor, still half-lost in the grim report alfred had handed him earlier. before he even sets his briefcase down, a blur barrels toward him, arms wide, a gleeful shout of his name ringing through the grand hall.

he braces himself instinctively like he’s about to be tackled by a rogue metahuman. “wait—” is all he manages before you collide with him, wrapping him in a bear hug strong enough to make his muscles tense. for a second, bruce freezes like a deer in headlights.

“miss me?” you grin, cheek pressed to his chest as you sway him back and forth like a tree in a storm.

bruce glances down, trying to maintain the stoic facade, but his lips twitch, betraying the barest hint of amusement. “you know, most people say hello first.”

alfred passes by with an arched brow and a muttered, “at least you don’t end up unconscious, master wayne.”

he sighs, exasperated but secretly endeared. he knows by now resistance is futile. one hand rests awkwardly on your back, the other fumbling to steady the files tucked under his arm. “you’re going to sprain something one day,” he murmurs, though there’s a faint warmth in his tone. )

the first time you tackle-hugged him after patrol, bruises and all, bruce immediately went into “are you hurt?” mode despite being the one who should be resting. “you can’t just launch yourself at me like that—you could get hurt,” he’d chide, even as he gently pulls you closer to make sure you’re okay.

alfred would quietly revel in the sheer domestication of bruce’s typically aloof charge. “ah, nothing like unrestrained enthusiasm to balance out your brooding, sir.”

DICK GRAYSON

dick grayson would be all in for having a hyper-physically affectionate s/o. the guy thrives on connection, and someone who matches his energy—or even outpaces it—would not only make him laugh but also make him feel completely loved. if anything, your clingy antics would ignite a bit of playful competition as dick tries to out-affection you, though he’d absolutely let you win most of the time.

( the moment he unlocks the door after a patrol, the creak of the hinges is your signal to strike. without hesitation, you launch yourself at him like a projectile, arms wide and grinning ear to ear.

“dick!”

“whoa—!” he yelps, barely managing to catch you before you tackle him into the doorframe. one arm wraps around your waist while the other steadies both of you. “are you trying to kill me, or…?” he teases, his voice light with laughter.

“i’m just so happy you’re home!” you say, nuzzling into his neck.

“yeah? well, i love being tackled the moment i step inside,” he says sarcastically, but the grin splitting his face is entirely genuine. “i mean, forget taking off my boots or hanging up my jacket—this is exactly what i needed.” he spins you around for good measure, making you laugh as he carries you further inside. )

dick would absolutely take your clinginess as a challenge to see who could be more over-the-top. you tackle-hug him at the door? he’ll scoop you up and spin you. you randomly leap on his back during a walk? he’ll carry you piggyback all the way home. it’s basically a constant competition to outdo each other.

one time, you caught him mid-workout and tried to climb on his back during push-ups. he pretended to be annoyed but ended up laughing so hard he couldn’t finish his reps. “you’re impossible,” he’d say between laughs, letting you sit on his back as he fake-struggled to keep going.

JASON TODD

jason todd would act like he didn’t know how to handle having such a clingy and affectionate s/o, but deep down, he’d secretly live for it. the guy has been through hell and back, so having someone who’s so unapologetically excited to see him would catch him off-guard at first—but it would also heal a part of him he didn’t know was still raw. he might grumble, roll his eyes, and mutter sarcastic quips, but the way he’d instinctively hold onto you would give away just how much he craves your affection.

( jason walks through the apartment door, shoulders tense from a long night of patrol, his helmet tucked under one arm. he barely gets two steps inside before the sound of your excited yell fills the air.

“jay!”

before he can react, you’re barreling toward him, all wild energy and open arms. “oh, shi—” the rest of his curse is cut off as you launch yourself at him, practically climbing him like a tree. he stumbles back a step, caught off-guard but reflexively wrapping his arms around you to keep you both steady.

“missed me?” you ask with a grin, nuzzling into his neck as your legs wrap around his waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

jason sighs, trying to sound exasperated but failing miserably. “miss you? you act like i’ve been gone for months. i was literally out for, what, five hours?”

“too long,” you mumble into his shoulder, squeezing him tighter.

despite his words, you feel his shoulders relax as he hugs you back. “you’re ridiculous, you know that?” he says softly, his voice a little rough around the edges but warm. )

jason would never stop pretending to grumble about your antics. “do you have to tackle me every time i walk through the door? my ribs aren’t exactly indestructible.” but if you ever didn’t tackle him, he’d immediately notice. “what, no welcome-home ambush? you mad at me or something?”

he would absolutely start using your clinginess against you. if he wanted your attention, he’d dramatically throw himself onto the couch and groan, “i can’t go on. i need one of your hugs to survive.”

TIM DRAKE

tim drake would initially be overwhelmed by having such a physically clingy s/o, mostly because he’s used to people respecting his personal bubble—or just not being that excited to see him. but once he got past the initial shock, he’d secretly love it, even if he was absolutely terrible at expressing that in words. your affectionate antics would constantly fluster him, but he’d quickly become addicted to the way you made him feel wanted and cared for.

( if you interrupted tim in the middle of one of his all-nighters, the results would be like this: imagine him sitting at his desk, surrounded by coffee cups and glowing monitors, so hyper-focused that he doesn’t even hear you sneaking up behind him.

suddenly, your arms wrap around his shoulders, and you rest your chin on top of his head. “hi,” you whisper, making him jump so hard he almost knocks over his coffee.

“[name]!” he hisses, spinning around to glare at you, his heart racing.

“sorry, couldn’t resist,” you say with a cheeky grin, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple.

tim sighs, trying to look annoyed, but the light blush creeping up his neck gives him away. “you’re ridiculous,” he mutters, but instead of pushing you away, he pulls you into his lap, his arms wrapping securely around your waist. “if i let you stay, will you let me finish his report?”

“no promises.” )

your ambushes would frequently catch tim off-guard, leading to spilled coffee, toppled stacks of paperwork, and at least one destroyed keyboard. “[name], i love you, but you’re going to bankrupt me in tech replacements,” he’d grumble while cleaning up the latest mess.

he would eventually start using your affection as an excuse to take breaks. if you tackled him while he was working, he’d let out a long-suffering sigh and say, “fine. five minutes. but only because you’re so insistent.” cue you dragging him to the couch for cuddles while he pretends to be annoyed.

ADDITIONAL NOTE! if you like my work , please consider reblogging and / or commenting ! thank you if you do 🤍

[my-castles-crumbling]

five - february 21 - black brothers - background jegulus - @black-brothers-microfic - cw: orion and walburga black are pieces of shit, but it's vague - word count: 613

Regulus Black had always been an insufferably serious person. Sirius always liked to joke that they'd been named incorrectly- Regulus was the one who never smiled, after all. But by the time he and Regulus escaped home at ages fifteen and sixteen, Sirius could only remember a grand total of five times that Regulus had really, truly smiled.

I

The first had, of course, been his first smile. Baby Regulus had been almost as emotionless as his teenage counterpart, hardly any tears or smiles, but the one time he had grinned, Sirius had caught it. And oh, it had been a sight to behold. A beautiful flash of gums followed by a little angelic giggle. Sirius's stomach had filled with joy as he'd smiled in return, so happy to see his baby brother happy.

Of course, it had been cut off quickly, when Mother had yelled so loudly, Regulus had started to cry.

II

The second time had been when they were small. Regulus had learned quickly that emotions weren't tolerated in the Black household and was a master of hiding them. But once, while they were hidden away in Sirius's room, reading a book that he had stolen from the local Muggle library, Sirius had caught it: the fleeting glimpse of glittering eyes and shining white teeth as Regulus had listened to Sirius read to him.

The feeling of seeing his brother smile had gotten him through insufferable meals for moths after.

III

The third time was when Sirius came home from his first year at Hogwarts. It had been so long since they'd seen each other, and though Sirius had written weekly, he'd felt like there was a gaping chasm in his chest where Regulus ought to be. So when a very stoic-looking Mother and Father greeted him on the platform, he ignored them. He instead focused on Regulus, who grinned from ear-to-ear, pulling him into a hug.

That hug and that smile helped him through one of the worst summers of his life.

IV

The fourth time was, of course, when Regulus got his own Hogwarts letter. Eleven-year-old Regulus looked like he was going to cry with happiness when he opened the thick envelope, and Sirius wanted to cry with pride along with him.

Of course, Mother and Father immediately ruined it by reminding Regulus that he better be a Slytherin 'or else.'

V

The fifth, and most recent, time was when Regulus had caught the Snitch in his first school Quidditch game, winning for Slytherin.

Sirius knew he was supposed to be rooting for Ravenclaw, but he couldn't help himself: seeing his brother smile like that made him scream his head off, pride swelling in his chest as he watched Regulus lifted on the shoulders of the other players.

+1

But now...now they were here. Showing up at the front door of the Potter residence in the middle of the night after what could only be described as the most horrific week of Sirius's life. He expected Regulus to be even more closed-off than usual. He expected him to maybe even cry, or scream.

But when James opened the door, and he and Regulus locked eyes...

Regulus broke into the biggest, most adoring, relieved smile Sirius had ever seen. And he watched as his brother rushed into James's arms, gripping him tightly like if he didn't, he would disappear.

And in that moment, Sirius realized that while he was a bit annoyed that he hadn't been told about something (because he was smart enough to know that friends didn't embrace like that), he absolutely didn't care. Because anyone who made Regulus smile like that was absolutely perfect for him.

[goldenroutledge]

don’t you remember

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

word count: 2.3k

prompts: ❛ you don’t have to keep me company, i’m fine by myself. ❜ & ❛ can you look at me? please? ❜

summary: running into charles at your favorite spot might be fate’s way (or leo’s way) of bringing you back together.

warning(s): some angst but a happy ending!

masterlist || be my valentine blurb event 💌

You don’t miss Charles Leclerc.

You don’t miss the constant travel, the way he softly snores on planes, how his head used to rest against your shoulder, subconsciously finding comfort in your presence even in his sleep.

You don’t miss his curt, one word responses when words got sharp and petty arguments grew between you. You don’t miss his forgetfulness, his habit of brushing the important things under the rug, knowing that you’ll still be there to deal with them later. Once upon a time, his carelessness endeared you, like when he’d kiss you no matter who was watching. That trait of his ultimately turned against you.

You don’t miss the sound of him practicing piano, at any hour day or night. You don’t miss the way he poured his heart out to the piano and saved nothing for you.

Nor do you miss the pitter patter of Leo’s paws through the halls when he wakes you up in the middle of the night, curling up at the foot of your bed. Okay, maybe you do miss that a little bit.

You don’t miss how after standing by Charles for years, cheering him on from the start, his one true love means more to him than you ever could; having a real shot at claiming the World Driver’s Championship. It’s the only prize he could keep his eyes on, one that you could never compare yourself to, knowing that achievement would be larger than life for him. Everything, and everyone else, coming in second place.

That’s exactly why you couldn’t spare any more time denying the obvious. Months were spent convincing yourself that it was the right decision, reassured by the common saying that people either grow apart or they grow together. The breakup might have been sudden, but you’d grown so far apart that he was out of your reach, and you had grown out of his. Each of your paths had no intersection in sight.

It’s what led you to bail on him at the last minute, deciding to randomly stay home instead of accompanying your boyfriend to a race weekend. Charles had mastered the art of avoiding tough conversations; you’d only done the same. It didn’t break your heart any less knowing that Charles and Leo would arrive home to an empty apartment come Monday.

Sure the furniture, the decorations, the art work, his beloved grand piano… the material things remained. However your clothes, your belongings, your pictures, your presence, it was all gone. Any trace of the years you’d spent together, gone as if they never existed in the first place. If Charles wanted space, this was the only way you knew how to give it to him. Maybe, just maybe, he’d come to regret it.

Seeing his family around has been hard. His beloved mom and brothers now hesitate to rush to your side and talk to you like they used to. They might smile out of habit, recognizing your familiar face before they remember what’s happened between you and Charles. Like the flick of a light switch, you were strangers, despite once upon a time being embraced as a member of their close-knit family.

Social media doesn’t serve much of a purpose for you these days. Your friends understand that being tagged in countless fan edits and gossip posts about your breakup has got to burn. If the breakup itself wasn’t wounding enough, you’re forced to relive it with each notification. Embracing the new routine has been good for you, offering stability that life with Charles simply couldn’t-

You drop your pen, pausing from writing in your journal as the incessant barking of a dog interrupts your train of thought. The sound grows louder with each one.

You take one glance of your surroundings, and that’s when you see him. Leo Leclerc, barreling towards you as quickly as his little legs can take him. He’s now the reason your face lights up in the midst of a rather torturous journaling session.

“Leo! What are you doing over here?” You can’t help but pet him. His tongue hangs out of his mouth and his abandoned leash drags against the grass beneath him.

You then realize that if Leo got away, Charles must not be too far. You hope it’s his assistant taking the dog for a walk today. Then again, your quiet hideout spot is along one of Charles’ favorite trails to run. The hair on the back of your neck stands up when you hear the sound of his voice, calling Leo’s name in hopes that he’ll reappear.

Leo, none the wiser, gives kisses to your exposed skin and barks out in excitement. You cringe, knowing that Charles definitely isn’t too far away after hearing the familiar sound.

He rounds the corner, and upon spotting his dog, Charles is more relieved than anything else. “Leo! There you-,” …Until he sees who Leo ran off to find in the first place. “Y/n? Is that you?”

You wave politely, still trying to calm Leo down from his burst of enthusiasm. “Hi, Charles.”

“I, uhh, didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Makes two of us. Looks like Leo had other ideas.”

Charles smiles, approaching slowly as if he’s intruding on the moment. “You scare me when you run off like that.” He mumbles to Leo, catching his own breath as he was clearly in the midst of a workout. “I’m sorry, he still hasn’t learned much about obedience.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Your words are melancholy, and you try to keep the smile on your face despite knowing this will probably be the last time you see either of them. Unless this happens again, of course. Talk about irony. It’s almost as if Charles was summoned here as you were writing about him. You close the journal with haste, hoping Charles didn’t see his name clearly written at the top. “I guess Leo’s not as over me as you are.”

You regret saying the words immediately after they come out. Heat rises to your cheeks, luckily the sun is partially to blame. Charles’ expression hardens, unsure of what to say or do. “You have no idea what this has been like for me, finding that note on your nightstand, telling me you were leaving.”

“Forget it, Charles. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, whatever you may think, it could not be farther from the truth.” Instead of bidding you adieu, leaving this awkward moment for your memory to replay before you fall asleep tonight, he sits down beside you. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what happened between us, trying to understand how it happened in the first place. Can you just tell me why you did it? Or tell me what I did to cause it?”

You shrug. “People grow apart, Charles. Nothing lasts forever.”

He laughs bitterly. “Glad to see you’ve turned so cynical. Me too.”

“Not cynical, just realistic. Our breakup has helped me realize a lot of things, actually.”

“Like what?”

“Like it’s probably time to move to a bigger place, for one. Where I don’t run into my ex at my favorite sitting spot.” Charles freezes like a deer in headlights, until you nudge his arm with your elbow. “Relax, I’m just kidding. Kind of.”

“And you still have jokes. Good to know.”

Leo has calmed down and snuggled up between you and Charles. By the looks of it, he’s dozing off into an afternoon nap. Your heart warms at the sight of him, and though he’s just a dog, you can imagine that he’s feeling content between the two people that adopted him.

“You can come see him anytime, you know.”

“And that’s not just a ploy to get me back into your apartment?”

“You mean our apartment? It used to be yours too.”

“Exactly, used to be.”

“But it doesn’t have to be like that anymore. We can work it out, we can talk about everything that brought us here. Will you give us that chance?”

Your heart pangs with sadness at the reminder that this is all an illusion. Charles isn’t yours anymore, neither is Leo. He can feel your mood change at the mention of your old life together, and the distance that’s wedged itself between you now. “On second thought, you don’t have to keep me company, I’m fine by myself. You should get back to your workout, Charles.”

Absent-mindedly, you doodle on a blank page, hoping it will convince him you’re too busy for this. There’s no way he can let this conversation fall between his fingers. “Well, I need to rehydrate. So I’m staying.”

“Still stubborn, I see.”

“We spent years together, Y/n. You can’t tolerate me for more than five minutes?”

“You know what Charles? I wanted to be nice, to try to extend some kind of olive branch of friendship but I don’t think I can. We ended things for a reason and we can’t be friends.”

“Ended things? You mean, when you fled our apartment in the middle of the night?”

“Spare me. Things were long over between us. You just never had the balls to end it officially. Or at least wish me a good rest of my life.”

“I’m sorry, Y/n, but you don’t know what you’re talking about. Leo still sits by the door waiting for you. I must be some kind of idiot because I listen for the door, too. Hoping that one day maybe you’ll walk through it and come back home to us.”

“There is no home for me to come back to, Charles.” You mumble, but he’s insistent on finishing everything he’s been wanting to say to you since you left.

“And as for reaching out, you don’t know how badly I have wanted to. How close I have been to pressing send on some things I probably shouldn’t say, but do you know what stops me?”

“What stops you?”

“The thought of you carrying on, of being happy, maybe being happy with someone else who can give you everything you want. I never wanted to impose on your life because you made it clear that you don’t want me there anymore.”

“Are you insane? That’s not what happened at all! You ‘left’ me so you wouldn’t feel guilty about choosing your career anymore. I left because I didn’t want there to be a choice at all. You say that I left you, but it was mutual. You left me first.”

“Well, I was wrong. I could feel us growing apart and I didn’t do anything to stop it.” Charles shakes his head. “But Y/n, if I knew this is where we would end up, I would change everything. I should’ve never let you let me go. I should’ve fought.” You stay still, ignoring a tear that slips down your cheek and splatters onto the hardcover of your journal. “Y/n, can you look at me? Please?”

Leo’s woken up from the sound of Charles’ voice, alarmed at the distress in his dad’s voice, and the sadness radiating from his mom that he hasn’t seen in far too long. You lean down to kiss the daschund’s head before standing up.

“I should go.”

The dog is quick to follow you, and his cries are unmistakable, as if begging you to stay. Poor Leo never did anything to you. It’s a shame that he suffers from the decisions you and Charles made.

“If you won’t stay for me, will you stay for him?” Charles calls out, finally out of options now that he’s said what’s been weighing on his chest. He walks towards you and takes your free hand in his to stop you. His eyes share a similar look to your own, betting it all on one last plea.

“I can’t change the past. I can’t apologize enough for my mistakes. But if you can look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel for me anymore, I will let you go. I will wish you a good rest of your life and never bother you again if that’s what you want.”

“And why would you do that?”

“Because I love you, mon chéri. I always have and I always will. And if you decide to walk away, just promise me you won’t forget that.”

You nod, still teary-eyed. “Fine. I won’t.”

“So what’s it gonna be? Do we have to say goodbye?”

“It’s going to take time, Charles.” You look down at the ground, focusing on Leo walking around you.

Charles’ eyes have watered, and you resist the urge to engulf him into a hug. “However long it takes, I’ll be here. I can’t lose you.”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“You are. You’ve always been there for me, even when I don’t deserve it.” Charles takes a deep breath, composing himself. “But that’s going to change. I’m going to be someone who deserves you.”

You smile softly. “You’re not so bad, Charles. For what it’s worth, I shouldn’t have left the way I did. I never wanted to lose you either.”

Charles beams at you with hope in his eyes. He wants to hold you, to remind himself that you’re here in front of him after all this time, but he stops himself.

Instead, you take him into your arms, reveling in his familiar embrace. He wraps his arms around you, and his chest feels lighter. “Thank you.” He murmurs into your ear, wishing the moment to last forever.

You both chuckle as below you, Leo barks happily and wags his tail ferociously. “Me? You should be thanking him. If he hadn’t run off and found me here, we would’ve never ran into each other. We got Parent-Trapped by our dog.”

Charles leans down to pick Leo up, sighing in contentment as he looks between you two with admiration. “I guess we did, didn’t we?”

“But something tells me we were always meant to find our way back to each other. Isn’t that right, Leo?”

Leo barks at the sound of his name, confirming what you’ve both known all along; some things are just meant to be.

💌: thanks for reading! comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated! feel free to request more from my be my valentine blurb event

taglist: @marjorieswrld (add yourself here!)

[geneviveleocardius]

silco and his way of loving you

my man

silco is a man of plans and ambition, but when it comes to you, everything else takes a backseat. you are his exception, the one person he trusts entirely.

if anyone threatens you, silco’s rage is terrifying. he’s a man who built a criminal empire; he knows how to destroy enemies utterly and ruthlessly. for you, he wouldn’t hesitate to dismantle all of it.

silco ensures your safety with meticulous planning. from hidden bodyguards to secure safehouses, you might not even realize how many layers of protection he’s arranged for you.

silco isn’t the type to shower you with grand romantic gestures. instead, his love is shown in the little things: making sure you have everything you need, fixing things before you even know there’s a problem, and quietly watching over you when you’re vulnerable.

silco is not overly physical, but when you’re alone, he’ll let his guard down. a hand on your lower back, fingers brushing against yours, or his thumb tracing your jaw when he cups your face—these moments mean everything coming from him.

at night, when the stress of the day fades, he’ll let his mask slip. silco holds you close, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin as he whispers plans and dreams only meant for you to hear.

his sharp tongue spares no one, not even you, but there’s an unmistakable fondness in his teasing. he loves when you fire back, and the smirk that plays on his lips tells you he’s impressed by your wit.

silco has a knack for giving you nicknames that sound mocking but secretly melt his heart. whether it’s “darling,” “my torment,” or “trouble,” there’s always a hint of affection in his tone.

silco is a master of manipulation, but with you, there’s no need for pretense. you see the parts of him no one else does: the man who doubts, aches, and dreams. in you, he’s found someone he can truly rely on.

when the world feels like it’s pulling him into the abyss, you’re the one who keeps him grounded. he might be zaun’s eye, but you’re his anchor.

you’re the only person who sees the rare moments of guilt or pain flicker across his face. when his walls come down, he doesn’t speak much, but the way he clings to you says everything.

silco has no issue getting his hands dirty, but when it comes to you, he’ll even set aside his pride if it means making you happy. whether it’s something as small as an apology or something as monumental as changing his plans, he’ll do it for you.

silco is fiercely possessive, but he trusts you enough not to smother you. still, the way his sharp gaze lingers on anyone who gets too close is enough to send most people running.

silco may not be one for flowery words, but when he tells you, “you’re mine,” it’s a vow that carries more weight than any traditional declaration of love.

being loved by silco means being the most precious thing in a dangerous world. his love is intense, consuming, and unyielding—but with it comes a promise that you’ll never face anything alone.

silco’s love is quiet but intense, like a slow-burning fire. he isn’t the type to shout his feelings or wear his heart on his sleeve, but everything he does is for you. he shows his love through actions—ensuring your comfort, solving your problems before you even know they exist, and always putting you first.

he respects your independence but always watches out for you from the shadows. his way of saying “i love you” is often subtle: a rare, vulnerable gaze held a moment too long, or a quiet “stay safe” that carries more weight than any grand declaration.

silco’s kisses are measured and intense, like he’s savoring every second. he doesn’t rush, letting the moment linger as if nothing else exists.

in private moments of tenderness, he’ll press a soft kiss to your forehead, his way of silently promising to protect you.

he loves to tease you with playful, possessive nips during a kiss, a reminder of the passion simmering beneath his calm exterior.

he has a habit of kissing the sensitive spot just below your ear when he wants to make you melt, his voice low as he murmurs something teasing or affectionate.

silco thrives on making your life easier. whether it’s handling a problem you didn’t want to deal with or silently taking care of something before you even notice it, he shows his love through his competence and reliability.

though his life is busy and chaotic, he always carves out time for you. these moments are sacred to him, whether it’s sitting in comfortable silence or talking late into the night.

while he isn’t overly expressive, silco’s words, when he chooses to speak, carry immense weight. he knows exactly how to reassure you, lift you up, or show his admiration with sharp, carefully chosen phrases.

he loves the way your hands feel in his—smaller, softer, yet steady. he’ll hold your hand under the table during tense meetings or brush his fingers over yours in quiet moments, finding comfort in the connection.

silco is intense but never reckless. he approaches intimacy with the same deliberate care he applies to everything else, making sure you feel adored and completely satisfied.

he knows every inch of your body and every reaction you have. nothing escapes his notice, and he takes his time learning exactly what makes you feel good.

silco likes to take control, but he’s not harsh—he’s commanding, confident, and endlessly patient. he makes you feel safe while igniting a fire you didn’t know existed.

intimacy is one of the few times he allows himself to be completely unguarded with you. his whispered confessions and soft touches reveal a man who trusts you in ways he trusts no one else.

silco loves to keep you on your toes with sly comments and sarcastic humor. “oh, you think you can outsmart me? charming, but unlikely,” he’ll say with a smirk when you challenge him.

even after all this time, the way he looks at you can make your heart race. his sharp, calculating gaze softens into something warmer, more intimate, when his eyes meet yours across a crowded room.

a hand on the small of your back, a light brush of his fingers against yours, or a firm grip on your waist remind you that you’re his.

he’ll catch you off guard with unexpected praise. “you’re too brilliant for your own good, you know that?” he says, his tone half-teasing but completely sincere.

silco thrives on stolen moments of intimacy. even in the middle of a busy day, he’ll pull you aside, his voice low and suggestive as he murmurs, “do you have any idea how distracting you are?”

being loved by silco is like being claimed by a storm—intense, consuming, and completely unshakable. he’s not just your lover; he’s your partner, protector, and equal, and he makes sure you never doubt how deeply he adores you.

[hyuniemyunie]

Valentine's Day ⋆˚☆˖°

sonic characters! (some of them)

sfw

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(ФωФ): all romantic, except tails. silver the hedgehog x gn!reader, established relationship, fluff, long distance angst. shadow the hedgehog x gn!reader, confession, first kiss, awkward shadow. knuckles the echidna x gn!reader, mutual pining, protective knuckles. rouge the bat x gn!reader, flirty, playful, yet romantic. sonic the hedgehog x gn!reader, ride or die ahh. tails x gn!reader, platonic, found family.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

Love Across Time and Space

Silver always knew time was a fragile thing. He had spent his whole life watching it shatter, crumble, and reassemble itself in ways that never felt quite right. But right now, he wasn’t thinking about time in the grand, world-ending way he usually did. He was thinking about how much time he had spent away from you.

Valentine’s Day was meaningless in a ruined future, but with you, it meant something. It meant love, warmth, and all the little moments he had once believed were lost to history. So when he finally managed to pull together enough energy to warp to your timeline, he landed on your doorstep, breathless and unsteady, hands clutching a small, carefully wrapped package.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he panted, silver quills disheveled, eyes bright with excitement.

You barely had time to react before he was hugging you, holding on like you might disappear if he let go. “I didn’t think you’d make it,” you murmured into his shoulder, feeling the tension in his muscles ease at your touch.

“I’d tear through time itself to see you,” he whispered, pressing the gift into your hands. Inside was a small, glowing crystal—something he had pulled from the ruins of his future, polished and shaped until it shimmered like a star. “So even when I’m not here, you have a little piece of me.”

Tears pricked your eyes. You held it close, knowing he had fought against fate itself just to be here, to bring you this. You kissed him, slow and lingering, pouring all the love he had missed into one perfect moment.

No matter what time tried to take from him, he would always, always find his way back to you.

Love in the Shadows

Shadow didn’t believe in Valentine’s Day.

It was frivolous. Commercialized. A human construct designed to make people feel lonely, or worse—forced into performative displays of affection.

And yet.

Here he was, standing at your door, holding a single, freshly picked rose. He wasn’t even sure why he had grabbed it. Maybe because Rouge told him showing up empty-handed would be “pathetic,” or maybe because he had seen the way you admired flowers, even the most insignificant ones.

You opened the door, surprised to see him. “Shadow?”

He shifted uncomfortably, gripping the stem of the rose a little too hard. “I… was in the area.” A lie. He had walked here. On purpose. “Here.” He thrust the rose toward you like it was a weapon. “For you.”

You took it carefully, a small smile playing on your lips. “You’re really bad at this, huh?”

Shadow stiffened. “At what?”

“Romance.”

His ears twitched. “...Is that what this is?”

You stepped closer, looking up at him. “Why else would you be here?”

Shadow opened his mouth, then closed it, red eyes darting away. The silence stretched, but you didn’t rush him. Finally, he exhaled sharply. “I think about you too much,” he admitted, voice quiet. “It’s… distracting. But when I don’t see you, it’s worse.”

Your heart pounded. “Shadow, are you saying—”

“I don’t know what I’m saying,” he interrupted. “But if I don’t do this now, I’ll never do it.”

Before you could react, he kissed you—brief, uncertain, like he was afraid he had made a mistake. But when he pulled back, he saw your stunned expression, the way your fingers touched your lips, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel like running away.

Fists, Fireworks, and Feelings

Knuckles had never been good with words.

He could fight off entire armies, guard the Master Emerald with unwavering dedication, and endure the crushing weight of loneliness, but the idea of telling you how he felt? Impossible.

So when he saw someone bothering you at the marketplace—some overly pushy vendor who wouldn’t take no for an answer—he didn’t think. He acted.

“Back off,” he growled, stepping between you and the merchant, towering over them with a glare that could melt steel.

The vendor stammered out an apology and scurried away. You blinked up at Knuckles, wide-eyed. “Uh. Thanks?”

Knuckles crossed his arms, trying to ignore how fast his heart was beating. “You shouldn’t let people push you around,” he muttered.

You raised an eyebrow. “I was handling it.”

He hesitated. “...I know.” His ears burned. “I just don’t like seeing people mess with you.”

A slow smile spread across your lips. “Knuckles, are you being protective?”

“No,” he blurted, then immediately sighed. “Maybe.”

You tilted your head, amused. “Because you like me?”

His entire body tensed. He turned away, rubbing the back of his head, mumbling something you couldn’t quite hear.

You stepped closer. “What was that?”

“I said yes,” he grumbled. “Happy?”

Your laughter made his stomach flip. “Yeah, actually.”

And then you kissed his cheek—just a quick, playful peck—and Knuckles, the mighty guardian of Angel Island, went completely red, utterly speechless.

A Thief's Heart

Rouge loved shiny things.

She loved jewels, rare artifacts, and anything that glittered under the moonlight. But above all, she loved the things she couldn’t have.

Which was why she was currently lounging on your windowsill, one leg crossed over the other, a knowing smirk on her lips. “Miss me, sweetheart?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning against the wall. “You say that like you ever give me time to miss you.”

She chuckled, gracefully dropping down from the windowsill. “I can’t help it. You’re my favorite heist.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Heist?”

She tapped a manicured finger against your chest. “You stole my heart first.”

Your face heated up. “That was… disgustingly smooth.”

“I know.” She leaned in, voice softer now. “But I mean it.”

For all her bravado, there was something genuine in the way she looked at you—something unguarded, just for you. You swallowed, trying to keep up with her pace. “So… is this where you sweep me off my feet and take me away?”

Rouge hummed, pretending to think. “Tempting. But I’d rather stay right here.”

She kissed you then, slow and deliberate, her hands tracing over your shoulders like she was mapping every inch of you. When she pulled away, she grinned. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sugar.”

And just like that, she was gone, slipping back into the shadows—but not before leaving a single, heart-shaped ruby in your palm.

She may have been a thief, but tonight, she was the one who had given something away.

Love at the Speed of Sound

Dating Sonic was like trying to hold onto a summer breeze—he was fast, untouchable, and always on the move. But somehow, against all odds, he always found his way back to you.

Which was why, on Valentine’s Day, you weren’t expecting anything too special. Sonic wasn’t exactly the chocolates-and-roses type. You figured maybe a quick visit, a few jokes, and then he’d be off, chasing another adventure.

What you didn’t expect was him showing up at your door, grinning ear to ear, holding a blindfold.

“Uh,” you said, eyeing it. “Do I even want to know?”

“Oh, c’mon, where’s your sense of adventure?” Sonic wiggled the blindfold in front of you. “Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

You sighed but let him tie it over your eyes. The next thing you knew, he had scooped you into his arms, wind rushing past as he took off running.

Your stomach flipped as he skidded to a stop. “Okay, ready?”

He tugged the blindfold off, and your breath caught. You were standing at the peak of a cliff, overlooking an endless ocean. The sunset turned the sky into a painting of pink and gold, waves crashing below. It was breathtaking.

Sonic leaned against the railing, smirking. “Not bad, huh?”

You turned to him. “You ran me all the way out here just for a view?”

“Nah.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I mean, yeah, it’s nice and all, but… I just wanted to spend today with you. No running off, no bad guys. Just us.”

Your heart melted. For all his speed, for all his need to be anywhere but standing still, he had chosen to stop—just for you.

He stretched out a hand. “So… what do you say? Wanna watch the sunset with me?”

You took his hand, fingers lacing together. “I’d race you to it, but we both know I’d lose.”

Sonic laughed. “Yeah, but I’d let you win just this once.”

And for once, he didn’t run away.

Genius at Work

Tails had been locked in his workshop all day. You weren’t surprised—once he got lost in a project, hours could pass without him realizing it. But it was Valentine’s Day, and you weren’t about to let him spend it cooped up with nothing but blueprints and half-finished gadgets.

You knocked on the door. “Tails? You in there?”

A crash, a muffled “Ow,” and then, “Uh—yeah! Hold on!”

A moment later, he opened the door, goggles perched on his forehead, fur smudged with oil. “Oh! Hey, What’s up?”

You held up a small box. “Figured you’d forget to eat, so I brought you something.”

His ears perked up, tails wagging slightly. “Oh! Thanks!” He took the box, opening it to reveal a homemade meal, carefully packed. His eyes softened. “You really didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to.” You leaned against the doorway. “You do a lot for everyone, Tails. Thought someone should return the favor.”

He scratched the back of his head, embarrassed but clearly touched. “I guess I do get carried away sometimes…”

You grinned. “That’s what I’m here for—to remind you to actually be human. Or, well… fox.”

Tails laughed. “Well, in that case—wanna see what I’ve been working on?”

You knew what that meant: hours of enthusiastic explanations, endless tinkering, and getting caught up in his excitement. And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sweeter Than Candy

Amy had never been subtle about her feelings. She loved love. She believed in grand gestures, romantic confessions, and fairytale endings.

So when she showed up at your door on Valentine’s Day, holding a heart-shaped box of chocolates, you knew exactly what was coming.

She took a deep breath, gripping the box like it was a lifeline. “Okay! I rehearsed this, but now that I’m actually here, I’m kinda panicking—”

You reached out, gently squeezing her hand. “Amy. Breathe.”

She exhaled. “Right. Okay. Here goes.” She thrust the chocolates toward you. “I like you.”

You blinked. “I—”

“Like, a lot,” she continued, words tumbling out in a rush. “Like, more-than-friends like. Like, every time I see you, my heart does this stupid little happy dance, and I think you’re amazing, and I—”

“Amy.” You smiled, taking the chocolates from her hands. “I like you too.”

She froze. “You—wait, really?”

You laughed. “Yeah, really.”

Amy made a sound somewhere between a squeal and a gasp. “Oh my gosh! Okay, um—wait, I had a whole speech planned, and now I—wait, no, that doesn’t matter, because—you like me back!”

She threw her arms around you, squeezing tight, her hammer clattering to the ground as she forgot everything else. You hugged her just as tightly, warmth blooming in your chest.

Amy pulled back, eyes sparkling. “So does this mean I can call you my Valentine?”

You tapped your chin, pretending to think. “Hmm… I dunno. What’s in it for me?”

She gasped dramatically. “Rude!”

You laughed, and before she could protest, you leaned in, kissing her cheek. “Of course, I’m your Valentine.”

Amy beamed. “Best. Valentine’s Day. EVER.”

[stylesispunk]

"Shadows of the love under the laurel"

Marcus Acacius x fem!reader

Summary: In the shadows of the Roman Empire, you, a devoted servant, discover love with the honorable General Marcus Acacius. You both navigate the treacherous current of social expectations when a looming marriage comes to risk everything.

w.c: 13k.

warnings: themes of slavery and servitude, forbidden love, mentions of anxiety, mentions of blood, angst, fluff, poorly written smut, no proofreading.

a/n: I don't know what to write in here, but this one was a request by @negrita2345 i hope I did it justice and I hope you all enjoy it and share your thoughts with me because I really love to read your comments and thoughts. They make my day, so thank you in advance! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated 💌 happy reading 💌✨

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

The sound of the iron gate clanged shut behind you, a cold finality to another day of servitude. You knew that sound well, it was the only sound you had known since you were born, clamoring as a death knell, just reminder of your place in the world. You didn’t even own your freedom, yet you belonged to everyone who had put their hands on your skin or had thrown daggers at you. As a servant, your life was nothing but an endless circle of command shouted from faces that never bothered to learn your name. They simply called you “girl.”

In your twenty-three years, you had learned to endure the sting of insults, the cruel hands that shoved you from one task to another, and the stares that stripped all your dignity. Respect was something that didn’t exist for someone like you, born in the shadows of Rome’s grandeur. You were a property, a tool to serve, to scrub, to clean, and to remain unseen.

And today was no different. You had been sold again.

The place you now found yourself in was the biggest you’d seen. The walls were taller than the marble floors polished to a gleaming white that made your hesitant to step across them. A legion of other servants moved like silent specters, each one avoiding you gaze as you were ushered through the grand halls. It was as though no one acknowledged the arrival of new blood. In their world, new servants were as replaceable as the jugs of wine they carried.

As you moved through the villa, you hear whispers-murmurs of the man who ruled this place. General Marcus Acacius, a name that belonged to a man who had gained respect and admiration. He was no ordinary master, it seemed. He was a warrior, a man who had earned his position through conquest and battle. A man who stood close to the Emperor himself.

Your stomach knotted at the thought. Men of power, you had learned, were often the cruelest. The more they gained, the more they needed to remind those beneath them how little they mattered. You could only hope that Marcus would be indifferent—that he would not notice you at all.

“Girl, this way.”

A sharp voice broke your thoughts. One of the older housekeepers, her face lined with age and wear, beckoned you down a side corridor. It was darker here, the sunlight from the Roman skies barely reaching the shadowed walls. The keeper’s voice softened as you walked.

“You’ll serve General Acacious directly,” she said. “He’s… not like the others.��

You glanced up, surprised by the odd tone in her voice. You weren’t sure if the keeper meant it as a warning or a reassurance, but you nodded nonetheless, keeping your eyes lowered. You approached a set of heavy doors, carved with intricate symbols and flanked by tall, stoic guards. The keeper gestured toward them.

“The general is inside. Speak only when spoken to. He does not tolerate foolishness.”

With a final nod, the keeper disappeared down the corridor, leaving you alone. You stood for a moment, the weight of the moment pressing down on your chest. There was no telling what awaited you on the other side of those doors. You swallowed hard, brushing a strand of dark hair from your face before you stepped forward.

The guards opened the doors without a word, and you found yourself in a large, open room filled with the smell of burning incense and leather. It was dimly lit, the sunlight creeping through narrow windows high above, casting long shadows on the ground. Your gaze lifted, and then you saw him.

Marcus.

General Marcus Acacius stood by a table, bent over a map with a furrowed brow. His armor was still strapped across his broad shoulders, and the crimson cloak draped over his back gave him the appearance of a man who had just come from battle. He was taller than you had imagined, his presence commanding without a single word. His dark hair was cropped close, and his sharp features bore the marks of someone who had lived a life of discipline and war.

For a long moment, he did not acknowledge your presence. You stood still, your heart pounding as you waited for his command, for the words that would decide the course of your life here.

Finally, he looked up, his dark eyes locking onto yours. There was something in his gaze that startled you, not precisely cruelty, but something else. Something you couldn't quite name.

"You are the new servant?" His voice was low, measured. He didn’t shout like the others.

"Yes, General," you replied softly, lowering your eyes to the floor as was expected.

He watched you for a moment longer, and you could feel his gaze lingering on you, almost burning. It was as though he was seeing something in you that others had never cared to look for.

"Good," he said at last, turning back to his maps. "You will serve me directly. Be quick. Be silent. That is all."

His words were not cruel, nor were they kind. They were simple, matter-of-fact. You let out a quiet breath, your heart still pounding in your chest. You turned to leave, but something held you in place, a curiosity that stirred within you, a question you did not dare ask aloud.

What kind of man was General Marcus Acacious?

As you left the room, the weight of your life as a servant settled back onto your shoulders, but there was something different now, something you had not expected. It was faint, a flicker of warmth in the cold corridors of your mind.

In the days that followed, you learned what it meant to serve Marcus Acacius. His world was orderly, precise, and unyielding. He expected his servants to move with quiet efficiency, anticipating his needs before he voiced them. There was no room for error, but unlike you previous masters, there was also no room for cruelty. Mistakes were met with silence, not blows. It was a strange sort of mercy, one that left you both relieved and on edge.

You were tasked with attending to the general’s quarters, a task that placed you in close proximity to him every day. You polished his armor, prepared his baths, and ensured that the scrolls and maps he studied late into the night were neatly arranged. He rarely spoke to you, and when he did, it was brief and to the point. Yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he noticed you in a way no one else had.

It was in the quiet moments between orders that you caught fleeting glimpses of the man behind the title.

One afternoon, as you were cleaning his quarters, you heard a faint groan of pain. Startled, you looked up to see Marcus standing by the window, his hand gripping his side. His face was tight with discomfort, though he said nothing.

You hesitated, unsure if you should speak. “General… are you hurt?”

His eyes flicked toward you, the sharpness in them softening just slightly. For a moment, you thought he might ignore your question, but then he spoke.

“It’s nothing,” he said, his voice strained. “An old wound. It… flares up from time to time.”

He didn’t offer more, and you knew better than to pry. Yet, something in his tone—a vulnerability you hadn’t heard before made you want to help.

Without thinking, you set aside your cleaning cloth and moved toward him. “I could bring you something… some herbs. For the pain.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow, surprised by your boldness. “You know of such things?”

“My mother… she was a healer,” Your replied quietly, your eyes downcast. “Before…” You trailed off, not needing to finish the sentence. The silence filled in the gaps—before you were taken, before you became a servant.

He watched you for a long moment, as if weighing your words. Finally, he nodded. “Very well. Bring it.”

You hurried to the kitchens, your heart pounding. It was the first time Marcus had allowed you to do anything beyond your usual duties. As you gathered the herbs your mother had once shown you, the ones that could ease any pain and swelling, you thought of the strange connection you had felt in that moment. It wasn’t just your desire to help him. It was something deeper, something unspoken that passed between them.

When you returned to his quarters, Marcus was seated at the edge of his bed, the tension in his shoulders evident. You approached cautiously, mixing the herbs into a small vial of oil, then holding it out to him.

“You need to apply it to the wound,” you explained, your voice barely above a whisper. “It should ease the pain.”

Marcus took the vial from you, his fingers brushing yours for the briefest moment. His touch was warm, surprising you. Your eyes met, and in that fleeting second, you felt an unfamiliar flutter in your chest—a burn you quickly buried.

“Thank you,” he said, his tone sincere. It was a small word, but coming from a man like Marcus, it carried weight.

You bowed your head, stepping back as he stood and moved to apply the oil himself. You returned to your work, quietly cleaning the room, but your mind was elsewhere. You had never thought much of men, especially men of power. To you, they were all the same: cruel, indifferent, obsessed with their own glory. Yet, Marcus was different. He was distant, yes, and bound by duty, but he was also… something else. There was a complexity to him, a quiet pain that you couldn’t quite understand.

As the days passed, you found yourself watching him more closely. You noticed the way he carried the weight of command, his posture rigid, his eyes always alert. He was a man constantly at war, not just with the enemies of Rome, but with himself. You saw it in the way he would stare out the window late into the night, lost in thought, his fingers drumming against the hilt of his sword as though preparing for a battle that had not yet come.

And then, one evening, everything changed.

It was late, the rest of the household quiet, and you were tidying the general’s quarters as he sat by the hearth, reviewing maps of distant lands. The flicker of firelight cast shadows on his face, making him appear both weary and resolute. You were just about to leave when he spoke, his voice low and thoughtful.

“Tell me,”He said, following by the use of your name for the first time. “How did you come to be here? In this life?”

Your breath caught. No one had ever asked you that before. No one had ever cared to. You hesitated, unsure if you should answer, but the look in his eyes was not one of command. It was curiosity. Genuine, quiet curiosity.

“I was born into it,” you replied softly. “My mother… she was a healer in a small village outside of the city. But when the soldiers came, they took us. I was just a child then. I don’t remember much before it.”

Marcus’s gaze lingered on you; his expression unreadable. “And your mother?”

“She didn’t survive long after that. She grew sick, and no one would help her.”

There was a long silence after that, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room. You stood there, your hands clasped in front of you, waiting for him to dismiss you. But he didn’t. Instead, he sighed, a sound so faint you might have missed it had you not been standing so close.

“Life in Rome is rarely kind,” he said, his voice distant. “Even for those who believe themselves fortunate.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You simply stood there, watching as the general seemed to wrestle with thoughts he could not or would not speak aloud. Finally, he shook his head, as if clearing his mind, and looked at you once more.

“You may go,” he said, his tone once again that of a man in command. But there was a softness to it now, something that hadn’t been there before.

You bowed and left the room, your heart pounding. As you walked down the dark corridors of the villa, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you, that the lines separating servant and master had blurred, if only for a moment.

Weeks passed, and Your role in Marcus’s household became routine, yet far from ordinary. You had served many masters before, but none like him. There was a strange rhythm to your interactions now, a wordless understanding that passed between you in brief glances and moments too fleeting for anyone else to notice. Marcus was still the general, the powerful, untouchable figure, but there were cracks in his armor that only you seemed to see.

The changes were small at first. A few words exchanged at the end of the day, a subtle shift in the way his eyes lingered on you when you thought he wasn’t looking. It was during one such moment, late in the evening, that your quiet bond deepened.

You were clearing away the remains of his evening meal, the room lit only by the soft glow of a single oil lamp. Marcus sat at his desk, writing a letter, his brow furrowed in concentration. You moved silently, careful not to disturb him. But as you turned to leave, your hand brushed the corner of the table, knocking over a small cup.

The sound echoed in the stillness.

Your heart leaped into your throat. You had been so careful, always careful. You froze, waiting for the rebuke, the sharp words you had heard from other masters a hundred times before.

But instead of anger, Marcus’s voice came, calm and even. “It’s alright. Leave it.”

You paused, your fingers trembling as you stooped to pick up the cup, determined not to disobey. But as you did, Marcus spoke again, his tone softer this time.

“Do you always expect punishment so quickly?”

You straightened slowly, unsure how to answer. “It’s what happens when mistakes are made, General,” you replied quietly, your eyes still downcast.

Marcus stood, his towering frame casting long shadows in the flickering lamplight. He approached you slowly, the silence between you thick with unspoken words.

“Not here,” he said, his voice low. “You don’t have to fear that here.”

His words, though simple, carried a weight that you weren’t prepared for. For a moment, you dared to look up at him, meeting his eyes. There was something in his gaze—a gentleness that you had never expected to find in a man like him. It made your chest tighten, and you quickly dropped your gaze again.

Marcus sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “I don’t know what kind of men you served before, Mea Columba, but cruelty… it does not make a man stronger. It only makes him feared.”

He was quiet for a long time after that, standing just a breath away from you. You could feel the heat of his presence, the nearness of him unsettling but not unpleasant. You could sense the tension in the air, something unspoken hanging between you like a thread stretched too tight.

“You deserve better than that,” he said finally, his voice almost too soft for you to hear.

Your heart raced, your thoughts a tangled mess. How could he say such a thing? You were nothing more than a servant, a slave, how could someone like him believe you deserved anything at all? But in his words, you heard the truth of what he felt, and it terrified you as much as it filled you with something dangerously close to hope.

Before you could reply, before you could make sense of the moment, the door creaked open, and a soldier entered the room, interrupting them. Marcus immediately stepped back, his expression shifting into the impassive mask of the general once more.

“General Acacius,” the soldier said, bowing. “The emperor has requested your presence tomorrow. Urgent matters to discuss.”

Marcus’s jaw tightened. “Very well. Inform the Emperor I’ll be there.”

The soldier bowed again and left the room, leaving you and Marcus standing in the silence. The air between you had changed, something fragile, something delicate had passed between you, but neither dared acknowledge it.

“You may go” Marcus said, his voice once again composed, though you could sense the tension beneath it. “Get some rest.”

You bowed quickly and left the room; you heart still pounding in your chest. As you walked back through the dim corridors, you replayed his words in your mind

“You deserve better”

and wondered how dangerous it was to believe them.

You hadn’t expected him to say your name, less to hear a name with such affection from him It startled you, but in a way that made you feel seen, in a way that sent warmth through you despite the cool evening air.

“It’s all I’ve known,” you whispered, barely able to speak the words.

Days passed in a quiet blur, and the memory of that evening lingered between you, heavy and unspoken. Marcus was the same outwardly, maintaining his stoic demeanor in front of his soldiers, the senators, and his household. Yet, when he looked at you, when your eyes met across the room during your brief encounters, you could feel the shift in him, the way his guarded exterior faltered for just a moment.

It was in these fleeting moments that you began to understand the gravity of what was growing between you. You had never been close to a man before, not like this. Your world had always been one of shadows, of quiet obedience. But now, Marcus’s presence lingered in your thoughts, his words echoing in the stillness of your nights.

"You deserve better."

You couldn’t stop hearing it. And it frightened you. How could someone like him, someone with power, command, and the loyalty of an empire, care about someone like you, a servant who had spent her life in the background? The idea felt dangerous, as though it could upend everything you knew, yet it was there, undeniable.

The tension between you simmered, growing with each passing day. You never spoke of that moment again, but it hovered between you, thickening the air whenever you were alone.

One afternoon, you were attending to the general’s chambers when he returned earlier than expected from the training grounds. His tunic was damp with sweat, the edges of his dark hair clinging to his forehead, and a fresh bruise marked his arm.

He entered the room quietly, not saying a word at first, watching as you busied yourself, you’re your work. You tried to remain calm, to focus on your duties as you had always done, but the awareness of his gaze unsettled you. Finally, Marcus broke the silence.

he said your name, almost sounding hesitant.

You turned to face him, your heart quickening at the sound of your name. He had been saying it more often lately, and each time it carried a weight that made your pulse race. “Yes, General?”

For a moment, Marcus seemed to struggle with himself, his expression hard to read. He took a step closer, the air between you humming with tension. “You’ve been quiet lately,” he said, though the statement felt more like a question. “Are you… well?”

You blinked, surprised by the question. “I am, General. I—” You hesitated, unsure how to respond. The truth was, you had been keeping your distance, afraid of what might happen if you let yourself grow any closer to him. “I’ve just been… busy with my tasks.”

His eyes searched yours, as though he could see past your words to the truth beneath them. “You don’t have to keep your distance, mea columba,” he said quietly. “Not from me.”

The words sent a shiver through you. You wanted to step back, to remind yourself of your place, but something in his gaze held you still. There was a tenderness there, a vulnerability that you hadn’t expected to see in him.

“I’m only a servant,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You… you don’t have to concern yourself with me.”

Marcus’s jaw tightened, and he took another step toward you, closing the distance between you. “You’re more than that,” he said, his voice firm but soft. “You’re more than what this life has made you.”

Your breath caught. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond to the depth of his words. You had spent your whole life believing that your worth was measured by your service, by how invisible you could make yourself. But Marcus… he saw you. And it terrified you as much as it filled you with warmth.

“You deserve more than this life, mea columba” Marcus continued, his hand lifting ever so slightly as if he wanted to reach for you but stopped himself. “More than this… than the way others have treated you.”

Tears burned at the edges of your eyes, but you blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. You couldn’t let herself believe in what he was saying. It was impossible. He was a general, bound by duty and honor to Rome. And you were, no, you had to be nothing to him. Anything else was too dangerous to even imagine.

“Please,” you said, almost pleading, “don’t say such things. I can’t…” You trailed off, your words caught in your throat.

Marcus’s eyes softened, the hard edges of his face relaxing just slightly. “I know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know we can’t… but it doesn’t change how I feel.”

The admission hung in the air between you, raw and real. Your heart pounded, your mind reeling from the weight of his confession. You wanted to step forward, to reach out and touch him, to tell him that you felt the same—that his kindness, his quiet strength, had stirred something in you that you had never thought possible.

But she couldn’t. The world wouldn’t allow it. He was a man of power, and you were a servant. Their lives were too different, their paths too far apart.

And yet, standing there in the quiet of the room, with only the soft flicker of candlelight between you, it felt as though the rest of the world had disappeared, leaving only the two of you in the stillness.

Marcus reached up, his hand trembling ever so slightly as it brushed against your cheek. You gasped at the touch, your skin tingling under his fingertips. It was the first time he had touched you like this, softly, tenderly, as though you were something fragile and precious.

“I wish things were different,” he murmured, his thumb gently caressing the curve of your jaw.

You closed your eyes, leaning into the warmth of his hand despite yourself. You knew you shouldn’t, knew that this moment could only lead to heartache, but you couldn’t stop herself. “So do I,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

For a long moment, you stood there, suspended in the silence, the weight of your unspoken feelings pressing down on you. But then, just as quickly as it had begun, Marcus pulled away, his hand falling to his side. The mask of the general slipped back into place, his expression once again composed, though his eyes still burned with the emotions he couldn’t voice.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, stepping back. “I shouldn’t have—”

You shook your head. “No, it’s… it’s alright.”

But it wasn’t. You both knew it.

“You should go,” Marcus said, his voice rough with regret. “We… we can’t.”

You nodded, though your heart ached. “Goodnight, General.”

You turned and left the room, your heart heavy with the weight of what had just happened.

The days that followed were unbearable. You tried to go about your duties as usual, but you couldn’t shake the weight of Marcus’s words, the feel of his hand against your cheek, the unspoken desire that lingered between you. It haunted you in the quiet moments, in the stillness of night when you were alone with your thoughts.

And you could see it in him, too.

Every glance you shared, every brief exchange, held a tension that had not been there before. Marcus’s eyes lingered on you longer than they should, his gaze filled with something he dared not speak aloud. You could feel the conflict within him, the struggle between his duty and what lay deep in his heart.

One afternoon, as you were preparing the general’s chambers for the evening, you heard footsteps behind you. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was. You could feel his presence, the energy in the room shifting the moment he entered.

“Columba” he said softly, his voice different from the tone he used with anyone else. There was no command in it, no expectation—just a quiet plea.

You turned to face him, your heart already racing at the sound of your nickname on his lips. He stood in the doorway, his posture rigid, yet his eyes betrayed him. They were filled with the same turmoil that had been building between you for weeks.

“General,” you said, your voice steady though your heart was anything but.

He stepped forward, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. “Marcus,” he corrected, his gaze fixed on yours. “When we’re alone, please… call me Marcus.”

The intimacy of his request made your chest tighten. You had spent your life addressing him with titles, always reminding herself of the distance between you, but now… now he was asking you to cross that distance, to meet him as something more than a servant.

“Marcus,” you repeated softly, the word feeling foreign yet familiar on your tongue.

A small smile touched his lips, but it was strained. He walked slowly toward you, his movements careful, as though he was afraid to shatter the fragile space between you. When he stopped just a step away from you, you felt the air grow thick, the unspoken emotions pressing down on you both.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Marcus said, his voice low and rough with honesty. “I’ve tried… I’ve tried to bury it, to remind myself of who I am, of what’s expected of me. But every time I see you, every time I hear your voice… it’s like I can’t breathe.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. You had never imagined a man like Marcus, a man of such power and command, could feel this way about you. You had always been invisible, always kept in the shadows. But with him, you felt seen. And that terrified you.

“Marcus, we can’t…” You shook your head, your voice trembling. “You know we can’t. You’re a general. You serve Rome. I’m nothing more than a servant.”

“You are not nothing,” Marcus said sharply, his eyes flashing with a rare intensity. He reached out and gently grasped your wrist, his touch sending a jolt through you. “Don’t ever say that. You are everything I—” He stopped himself, his jaw tightening as if he were trying to restrain words he couldn’t say.

Your heart pounded in your chest. You could feel the heat of his hand on your skin, the warmth of his breath as he stood so close. Every instinct told you to pull away, to remind him of the impossibility of this, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t deny the pull between you, the feelings that had been growing in your heart, no matter how forbidden they were.

“Why me?” you whispered, your voice fragile as your heart. “Why would you care for someone like me, when you could have anyone?”

Marcus’s gaze softened, his grip on your wrist loosening but not letting go. He lifted your hand slowly, his thumb brushing over your palm in a gesture so gentle it made you ache. “Because you see me,” he murmured. “Not the general, not the man who leads armies or answers to the emperor. You see me.”

His words made your chest tighten painfully. You had always tried to stay invisible, to keep your head down and avoid the eyes of those who held power over you. But with Marcus, it was different. You saw the man beneath the armor, the one who carried the weight of duty and responsibility on his shoulders but longed for something more—something real.

“I can’t stop what I feel for you,” Marcus continued, his voice filled with raw honesty. “Even though I know it’s wrong, even though I know what the world would think if they knew… I can’t stop.”

You felt your resolve crumbling. You wanted to tell him that you felt the same, that his kindness, his gentleness, had woven its way into your heart. But the fear of what could come from this, the danger of their impossible love, held you back.

“I feel it too,” you admitted softly, you voice barely above a whisper. “But we have no future, Marcus. You know that. You’ll be expected to marry—”

“I know,” he interrupted, his voice tight. “I know I’m bound by duty. I’ve spent my whole life doing what Rome asks of me. But for once, Livia, I want something for myself.”

His words hung in the air, thick with longing and pain. Your heart ached for him, for the man who had given so much of himself to an empire that would never give him the freedom to love who he chose. And yet, even as you felt the weight of his confession, you knew the truth.

“Even if we want this,” you whispered, “Rome will never let it happen.”

Marcus’s face tightened with frustration, his hand still holding yours as though he couldn’t bear to let go.

You stood in silence for a long moment, the weight of your love pressing down on them. Your heart pounded in your chest, torn between the desire to give in to the feelings you had tried so hard to suppress and the reality of the world they lived in.

Finally, Marcus spoke again, his voice heavy with resignation. “I don’t know what the future holds,” he said softly. “But I know that for now… I need you here. By my side. Even if that’s all we can have.”

You swallowed hard, tears burning at the edges of your eyes. You knew he was right. Your love, if it could even be called that, would never be allowed to flourish in the light. But in the shadows, in the quiet moments you shared, it was real. And maybe, for now, that had to be enough.

You nodded, your voice barely audible as you whispered, “I’ll stay.”

Marcus’s shoulders seemed to relax, and for the briefest moment, a small, sad smile crossed his face. He gently released your hand, stepping back, the distance between you once again restored. But the bond you shared remained.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice filled with emotion. “For staying.”

It was a few days later, and the weight of your shared confession still lingered in the air. The nights had grown heavier with unspoken feelings, and each day, the tension between you and Marcus became harder to ignore. You told yourself to be content with what little time you could have by his side, though it tore at you, knowing that it would never be enough.

That evening, you were cleaning his quarters, your movements methodical, when the door creaked open behind you. You turned and saw Marcus step in, but this time he wasn’t the composed general you had grown used to. His tunic was torn at the shoulder, a dark patch of blood staining the fabric. His brow was furrowed, his jaw set in pain. He tried to stand tall, but there was no hiding the wince as he moved.

"Marcus," you gasped, forgetting all formality in the moment, rushing toward him. Your heart hammered in your chest, worry washing over you at the sight of him.

“It’s nothing,” he said gruffly, waving off your concern, though the tightness in his voice betrayed him. “Just a training injury.”

You moved closer, eyes searching his. You had seen him injured before—he was a soldier, after all—but this felt different. There was a vulnerability in the way he looked at you, as though he had allowed himself to come to you in a moment of weakness.

“You should sit,” you said softly, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. “Let me prepare a bath for you.”

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded, walking slowly toward the bed and sitting on its edge, his movements stiff and labored. His dark eyes followed you as you quickly went to work, preparing the bath with warm water and fragrant oils to ease his wounds and the tension in his body.

When you returned, you found Marcus removing his tunic, the fabric peeling away from the gash on his shoulder. His skin was marred with bruises, old and new, the marks of a warrior who had seen countless battles. But it was the fresh wound that made your heart ache, the sight of him in pain stirring something deep within you.

“Let me help you,” you whispered, kneeling beside him. He met your eyes, his expression unreadable, and then he nodded, allowing you to step closer. With trembling hands, you gently unfastened the remaining clasps of his armor, your fingers brushing against his skin. You tried to keep your touch professional, but each time your skin met his, a jolt of electricity shot through you.

Once he was bare to the waist, you guided him to the bath. He lowered himself into the warm water with a sigh, his muscles relaxing as the heat enveloped him. You sat on the stool beside the tub, gathering a soft cloth in your hands. You hesitated for a moment, the intimacy of what you were about to do settling heavily in your chest.

When you began to gently scrub his skin, the water rippling with each movement, Marcus closed his eyes, leaning back slightly. His breath came in slow, deep draws, and for a moment, it was as though the world outside the room no longer existed. There was just you, him, and the quiet sound of water.

Your hands moved carefully over his skin, your touch tender and cautious, tracing the contours of his shoulders, his back, the lines of his strong arms. You could feel the tension in his body slowly easing, though your own pulse raced with each moment that passed. The intimacy of the act was overwhelming, but Marcus made no move to stop you.

As you worked, you couldn't help but steal glances at his face, at the way the flickering candlelight danced across his strong jaw and the softness in his expression that he only ever showed when you were alone.

He opened his eyes after a long silence, catching your gaze. “You don’t have to do this,” he murmured, his voice husky from the warmth of the bath or perhaps something more.

“I want to,” you whispered, barely able to meet his eyes. “Let me take care of you.”

The vulnerability in your voice, in the gesture of your care, seemed to affect him deeply. Marcus’s eyes softened, and he reached out, his fingers brushing against your wrist in a silent gesture of thanks. The warmth of his touch lingered on your skin long after he pulled away.

For a long while, you continued in silence, the only sound the gentle splashing of water as you washed away the blood, the dirt, and the exhaustion from his body. Each stroke of the cloth felt like a confession, a quiet way of telling him what you couldn’t say aloud. That you cared for him. That you wanted to protect him in whatever small way you could, even though you knew you couldn’t keep him from the dangers of the world beyond these walls.

When you reached the wound on his shoulder, you were as delicate as possible, your touch light and careful. Marcus winced slightly, but he didn’t pull away. His eyes remained on you, dark and intense, watching every movement of your hands as though you were something precious.

“You’re always so careful,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why?”

You paused, your heart tightening at the question. How could you explain it? How could you put into words the way your heart ached for him, the way you wished to offer him comfort in a world that demanded so much of him?

“Because you’ve given me more kindness than I’ve ever known,” you whispered, barely able to say the words. “I want to give some of it back.”

Marcus’s gaze softened even more, and for a moment, it seemed as though he might say something, something that would change everything between you. But instead, he closed his eyes, leaning back into the water, his hand slipping beneath the surface and resting on the edge of the tub.

You continued to wash him in silence, your heart heavy with the knowledge that these moments, these stolen moments in the shadows, were all you would ever have. And yet, they felt so real, so profound, that you couldn’t bring yourself to regret them.

When the bath was finished, you helped Marcus stand, wrapping a towel around his broad shoulders. He stood before you, his body strong but weary, the weight of his duties ever present in his posture. You couldn’t help but reach out, your hand brushing lightly against the wound on his shoulder.

“Does it hurt?” you asked softly.

He shook his head, but his eyes told a different story. “Not as much as other wounds,” he said quietly, his gaze meeting yours. “Not as much as the ones I can’t show.”

Your heart clenched at his words. You understood. The wounds of battle were visible, but the wounds of the heart—the ones inflicted by duty, by honor, by a world that wouldn’t allow him to follow his desires—were far deeper.

Marcus’s hand reached out, his fingers gently curling around yours, and for a moment, he held on as though you were the only thing keeping him grounded. His eyes searched yours, filled with emotions too complex to name

Marcus’s fingers curled around yours, and in that moment, the air between you seemed to shift. The world outside his chambers fell away, leaving only the two of you, standing so close, bound by an unspoken connection that had been building since the moment you first laid eyes on him. The intensity in his gaze sent a shiver through you, and you felt your breath catch in your throat as his thumb gently brushed over the back of your hand, a simple touch that carried a weight neither of you could ignore.

His hand lingered, holding yours as if it was the only anchor he had left. His eyes were darker now, filled with emotions too complex to name—longing, conflict, something deeper that neither of you had dared to speak aloud. The space between you felt fragile, like a thread stretched too tight, and yet neither of you could pull away.

“Mea columba” he murmured, his voice rough, barely more than a whisper. The way he said your name sent warmth coursing through your veins, and you felt yourself trembling beneath the intensity of his gaze.

You opened your mouth to speak, to say something—anything—to break the silence, but the words wouldn’t come. You didn’t need them. Everything was in his eyes, the way they searched yours, as though he were trying to find an answer to a question he hadn’t yet asked.

Slowly, cautiously, Marcus took a step closer, his hand still holding yours. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, the pulse in your ears deafening as the space between you closed. His breath was warm on your skin, mingling with your own as he stood so close that the air felt charged, thick with something unspoken.

He reached up with his free hand, his fingers trembling slightly as they brushed a strand of hair from your face. The touch was so tender, so careful, that it made your heart ache. His thumb lingered on your cheek, his palm cradling the side of your face, as though he were afraid to break the moment, afraid to shatter the delicate connection you shared.

“I’ve tried to fight this,” he whispered, his voice filled with a quiet desperation. “I’ve tried to remind myself of what’s right, of my duty, of all the reasons why I can’t—”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. You already knew. You knew the weight of the world that rested on his shoulders, the impossible choice he faced between the life he was bound to and the feelings that had grown between you.

But in that moment, as you stood in the dim light of his chambers, none of it seemed to matter. It was just the two of you, and the pull between you was too strong to deny.

“Marcus,” you breathed, your voice trembling as his name passed your lips, a quiet plea for something you both knew couldn’t be undone.

He hesitated for just a moment, his gaze searching yours one last time, as if waiting for a sign, for permission to take that final, forbidden step. And then, with a soft, broken sigh, Marcus leaned in.

His lips brushed yours, so softly at first that it felt like a whisper, a question, a promise. The world seemed to still around you, the moment suspended in time as he kissed you with a tenderness that made your heart ache. His hand tightened around yours, holding you close, as though he were afraid to let go, afraid that this fragile moment would slip away if he loosened his grip.

And then, slowly, the kiss deepened. His lips pressed more firmly against yours, and all the emotions that had been building between you, longing, desire, love, poured into that single, desperate kiss. It was as though every unspoken word, every hidden glance, every touch that had lingered too long was finally allowed to come to life.

You kissed him back, your hand finding its way to his bare chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath your fingers. It beat in time with yours, fast and hard, as if it, too, was caught up in the storm of emotions swirling between you. His other hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer, his body warm and solid against yours.

For a moment, nothing else mattered. Not the rules, not the expectations, not the world outside these walls. There was only Marcus, his lips on yours, his hands holding you like you were something precious, something he had longed for but never thought he could have.

“I don’t know how we’ll keep this secret… but gods, I can’t stop myself. I don’t want to stop.”

You felt the same. You didn’t know how you would hide this, how you would keep it from the eyes of the world, but in that moment, you didn’t care. You had already crossed a line, and there was no going back.

“I don’t want to stop either,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “But we’ll find a way… we have to.”

Marcus’s hand slipped from your waist to your cheek once more, his fingers brushing softly against your skin. He leaned in again, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment as though he were trying to hold on to the peace you had found in each other, but as soon as your eyes connected in unspoken pleas, his lips found yours again, this time his kiss screamed desire for you.

The way his right hand slipped down your arm, his touch soft but filled with purpose, sent a shiver through you. His fingers trailed along the curve of your waist, pulling you closer as his lips remained firmly attached to yours, deepening the kiss with a slow, deliberate intensity that made your head spin.

His body pressed against yours, strong and warm, as if he were trying to merge your very beings into one. The world around you seemed to melt away, your senses consumed by the feel of him, the taste of him, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. Each moment felt suspended in time, the quiet intimacy of the moment holding you both captive.

You could feel the heat radiating off his body, his chest rising and falling in time with yours as the kiss grew more passionate, more desperate. His hand at your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him, as though he needed to feel every part of you, to confirm that this wasn’t a dream.

Your own hands, trembling with the weight of the moment, slid up his arms, feeling the strength beneath his skin, the tension coiled in his muscles. You had never been this close before, never allowed yourself to imagine being this close to him. And now, here you were, pressed against him in a way that defied everything you had been told about your place in the world, everything you had believed about what you deserved.

His lips moved against yours with a hunger that matched the fire burning in your chest. It wasn’t just desire, there was something deeper, something raw and unspoken that neither of you had been able to express until now. Every kiss, every touch, was a release of all the feelings you had kept locked away for so long.

As his lips parted from yours for just a moment, his breath hot against your skin, Marcus whispered your name again—so soft, so reverent that it felt like a prayer. His forehead rested against yours, his eyes half-closed, his voice thick with emotion.

“I can’t…” he whispered, his hand still resting firmly at your waist, holding you close as though he couldn’t bear to let go. “I can’t stop this.”

Neither could you. You didn’t want to. You were lost in him, in the warmth of his touch, in the way he held you like you were the only thing that mattered. You could feel the conflict within him, the weight of his duties and the forbidden nature of what was blossoming between you, but none of that mattered in this moment.

His lips found yours again, this time slower, more tender, as though he were savoring every second, memorizing the feel of you in his arms. His hand slid up your back, pulling you even closer, as if he needed to feel the beat of your heart against his own. You melted into him, your own hands finding their way into his hair, threading through the dark strands as you kissed him with a longing you had kept buried for far too long.

No long after, his fingertips caressed your shoulders, slipping the strips of your dress down your arms. None of you stopped locking your gazes as you felt you dress slipping down your body. You were completely bare in front of the man who had made your heart race like never before.

You had never felt like this before, and the fire in the pit of your stomach was a new sensation for you. There was fire everywhere.

Marcus swept his eyes down your body, clearly reacting to the sight in front of him. The dim light of the moon danced across your skin. Marcus couldn’t believe it. You were the most beautiful woman he laid his eyes on, and under his stare he could swear God had made you just for him to find you, to find love in your eyes and in the way they looked at him now.

He placed his right hand on your neck, before trailing the path down to your neck, your breasts, your stomach as if you were the most delicate map he had ever touched in his life.

Goosebumps arise on your skin as you gasped under his touch. The way he unbraided your hair and swept it, looking at you with adoration. He wasted no time to devour your lips with his, stealing the moaning sounds out of your mouth, when his fingers slipped into your entrance. He worked his was in and out, your mouths attached, and his tongue caressed your swollen lips.

Your hands made their way to his back, his chest, his stomach. A groan came out of his throat when your fingers found his cock. Before you could even react, he carefully laid you on your back, his eyes bored into yours. Your lips were parted by the surprise of his sudden movement, and yet you looked beautiful under his stare, and you could feel beautiful too. It felt like a dream, to had found love in someone like him.

Marcus reached out and cupped your breasts. Your nipples hardened at the touch, and he duck down taking one in his mouth. You whispered his name making his cock throb at the sound of you pleading him, clearly enjoying the was your stomach trembled under his body. He then spread your legs to find the place where you needed him the most.

“Marcus” you whispered; voice weak “please.”

He grumbled and buried his entire face on your cunt. Your legs tightened in surprise, but he kept them open by draping one over his shoulder. He'd done this before, but with you, it seemed different. This time, he couldn't contain his thrill at the thought of making you pleased. He wanted you not only for this reason, but also because you cared for him and he for you, and he desired to prove thar by making love to you and waking up next to you for the rest of his life.

He continued sucking on your clit until you gasped for air. You felt hot under his tongue, and the flavor of you drove him crazy.

“You’re so beautiful mea columba” he whispered, pushing your thighs further apart and took his cock to press the head into your cunt, pushing it with pressure. You both moaned. He dropped his head to your shoulder, inhaling your exquisite scent.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, voice trembling at the thought. You were tight. He knew for the way your eyes looked that you never had done this before, so he tried to be as careful as he could.

“Marcus” you moaned, whimpering. He was all the way inside you. He felt embarred as how weak he seemed because of you. He tried not to come so fast, while glancing between you every second to make sure he wasn’t hurting you.

When he felt himself getting close, he tried to lift your back, holding onto your waist, his chest against yours, lips devouring each other.

“I’m in love with you, mea columba” he whispered, while pounding into you with a steady but delicate force it made you squirm.

your lips and bodies moving in perfect harmony, the rest of the world slipping away as you both gave in to the feelings you could no longer deny. The weight of the consequences lingered at the edges of your mind, but in that moment, nothing seemed as important as this. As him. As the way his hand cradled your waist, the way he kissed you like he had been waiting for this his entire life.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads still resting together. The silence that followed was heavy, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was filled with the quiet understanding that you had both crossed a line, and there was no turning back now.

Marcus’s eyes flickered open, his gaze locking with yours, the intensity of his emotions shining clearly in the dim light of the room. His thumb brushed lightly against your waist, a touch so gentle, yet filled with a quiet urgency that made your breath catch in your throat.

“I meant it,” he whispered, his voice low and rough with emotion. “I’m in love with you.”

His words hung in the air, thick and heavy with a truth neither of you could deny anymore. And then, without hesitation, he leaned in and pressed his lips to your forehead, the kiss soft and lingering, filled with a tenderness that made your heart swell.

You felt a rush of warmth flood through your body, his confession sinking deep into your chest. You had heard it in his voice before, seen it in his eyes, but hearing those words—words you never thought someone of his stature would say to you—made everything feel real. His love was dangerous, forbidden, but it was also undeniable.

Tears burned at the edges of your eyes, not out of sorrow, but from the overwhelming emotions that surged through you—relief, joy, and the painful knowledge that this love, as real as it was, lived in the shadows.

“I…” your voice faltered, barely above a whisper. “I never thought I’d hear you say those words.”

His forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he closed his eyes, his hand tightening around your waist, pulling you even closer. “I’ve tried to fight it,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet anguish. “I’ve tried so hard to push it away, to tell myself it can’t be. But I can’t… I don’t want to fight it anymore.”

You felt the trembling in his voice, the vulnerability in his words, and it mirrored the storm of feelings inside you. You had spent so long burying your own emotions, convinced that someone like Marcus could never see you as more than a servant, more than someone beneath him. But here he was, his love laid bare, his heart in your hands.

A tear slipped down your cheek, and before you could speak, Marcus lifted his hand to your face, his thumb brushing the tear away with the same care he had shown you so many times before. His eyes were filled with something so raw, so real, that it made your chest ache.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words escaping you before you could stop them, but you didn’t want to stop them. They were the truth, and in this moment, you had no reason to hide.

Marcus closed his eyes again, his lips parting in a quiet, shaky breath, as though the sound of your confession had taken away the last of his restraint. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw with a tenderness that made you feel like you were the only person in the world.

“I’ll protect you,” he said softly, his voice filled with quiet resolve. “Whatever happens, whatever comes next… I won’t let anything take you away from me.”

His words were a promise, one that felt as fragile as it was powerful. You both knew the risks, knew the world wouldn’t accept this love, but in his arms, in this stolen moment, you believed him. You believed that somehow, against all odds, you might be able to hold on to each other.

As the night deepened, the warmth of Marcus's arms around you became a cocoon of safety and comfort, unlike anything you had ever known. The intensity of your shared confessions, the raw emotions lingering between you, began to soften into a quieter, more intimate connection. His hands, once rough with battle, now caressed your skin with the gentleness of a man who had found something worth protecting, something precious.

You remained in his embrace, the two of you sitting on the edge of his bed, the flickering candlelight casting soft, golden shadows across his quarters. Marcus's thumb traced slow circles against your back, his touch reassuring and grounding, as though he was afraid that letting go would make this moment slip away into a dream. His forehead still rested gently against yours, his breathing steady but deep, as if he, too, was caught in the weight of everything you had just shared.

“I never imagined feeling like this,” you whispered, your voice barely breaking the silence of the room. You weren’t sure if you were confessing to him or simply speaking aloud the truth of what was in your heart. “I never thought I’d ever know this kind of closeness, this… love.”

His grip on you tightened slightly, his lips brushing the top of your head. “Neither did I,” he murmured, his voice thick with sincerity. “Not like this. Not with you.”

For a while, neither of you said anything. The quiet sounds of the night outside his window drifted in—a soft wind, the distant murmur of soldiers on watch, the occasional flicker of torchlight from the corridors. But none of it touched the stillness that enveloped the two of you in this space. Here, with Marcus, the world felt far away.

You felt the exhaustion from the day, from the intensity of everything, slowly creeping into your limbs. Your eyelids grew heavy, and despite the swirl of emotions still lingering in your chest, a deep weariness began to settle over you.

Marcus must have sensed it too, because his hand moved to your cheek, lifting your face gently so that your eyes met his. His expression softened, the hardness of the general gone, replaced by the tenderness of a man who cared deeply for you.

“You’re tired,” he said quietly, his voice filled with concern. “You should rest.”

You opened your mouth to protest, not wanting to leave his embrace, not wanting to lose the warmth of his presence. But he only smiled, his thumb brushing across your cheek in a soothing motion. “Stay here. With me.”

It was more than just an invitation. It was a promise, a reassurance that you didn’t have to return to the cold solitude of your small, servant's quarters. Tonight, you could stay here, beside him, and find some peace in his arms.

You breathed in the scent of him, your heart finding a slow, steady rhythm against his, and in the safety of his embrace, you finally let go.

Marcus’s hand continued to stroke your hair, even as sleep pulled you under. You could feel his heartbeat beneath your palm, strong and sure, and it lulled you into the sweetest, most peaceful sleep you had known in years.

And just before the darkness of sleep claimed you completely, you felt him press one last kiss to your temple, his lips soft and warm against your skin.

“Goodnight, my love,” he whispered.

And with that, you fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, wrapped safely in his arms.

The days that followed were filled with an eerie calm, the quiet before the storm neither of you could ignore. You and Marcus fell into a rhythm of stolen moments—brushed hands when no one was looking, lingering glances that spoke more than words could ever say. In the dim light of dawn, in the safety of his quarters, your world shrank to just the two of you, the outside concerns held at bay for a little while longer.

But the world, especially one as ruthless as the Roman Empire, couldn’t be held back forever.

It began with hushed whispers from the servants, news of political maneuvering at the highest levels. You heard it first while fetching water from the well. Two women were gossiping, their voices low but clear enough for you to overhear.

“The Emperor’s orders,” one of them said, her tone almost gleeful. “General Acacius is to marry Lucilla, they say. It’s all but decided.”

Your stomach dropped, the bucket in your hand suddenly too heavy. You froze in place, the weight of those words sinking into you like a stone. Marcus is to marry. The Emperor’s will was absolute, and any personal desires, any feelings, would be swept away like dust in the wind.

You barely remember how you made it back to Marcus’s quarters, your mind a blur of emotions—dread, anger, helplessness. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing with the terrible reality you were trying to push away. By the time you arrived, your hands were trembling, your breath shallow as if the air itself had become too heavy to breathe.

When Marcus walked in later that evening, you could see it in his face before he even spoke. The weight of duty, the burden of decisions not his own, bore down on him like a heavy cloak. His eyes, once so full of warmth when they met yours, were shadowed with the knowledge of what was to come.

You tried to speak, to find the words to ask him if it was true, but they caught in your throat. Instead, you stood in silence, waiting for him to tell you.

“They’ve ordered it,” he said quietly, his voice strained. He didn’t meet your eyes as he spoke, as if doing so would make it all too real. “The Emperor has arranged a marriage.”

Your heart shattered at that moment, but you willed yourself not to show it. You had always known this was a possibility—he was a man of power and status, and the empire would always demand his obedience. Still, knowing didn’t soften the blow. You felt like the air had been knocked out of your chest.

Marcus took a step closer to you, his expression pained. “I didn’t want this,” he murmured. “I don’t want her.”

He reached for you, his hand hovering just above your arm as if unsure whether he still had the right to touch you. The distance between you felt insurmountable now, the shadow of his impending marriage looming over everything you had built together.

You pulled back, just enough to break the unspoken promise of his touch. “But you must,” you said, your voice trembling. “You have no choice.”

Marcus’s eyes finally met yours, and the anguish in them was more than you could bear. “I swore I would protect you, that I wouldn’t let anything take you from me.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to stay strong even as the tears threatened to fall. “And I swore I would stay by your side, no matter what,” you whispered. “But Marcus, this… this is the world we live in…I can’t stay here just to watch you being married to a woman who is not me.”

“I can’t lose you,” he said, his voice breaking. “I can’t pretend this marriage means anything to me. It’s politics, nothing more. You are what I want.”

You felt your resolve crumbling, the enormity of what you were facing pulling you under. “But once you’re married…” The words felt like poison on your tongue. “Once you’re bound to her…”

He shook his head fiercely, stepping closer again, this time not hesitating as he took your hands in his. His touch was warm, familiar, but it couldn’t erase the reality pressing down on both of you. “I won’t let her come between us. I won’t.”

Tears filled your eyes despite your best efforts to hold them back. You couldn’t stop the ache in your chest, the knowledge that your love would now have to exist in the shadows of Marcus’s new life—hidden, secret, and forbidden.

“What kind of life is that for us?” you asked, your voice breaking. “A love hidden away, always in the dark?”

Marcus’s jaw clenched, his eyes blazing with desperation. “We’ll find a way,” he insisted. “Even if the world says we can’t… we’ll find a way.”

You wanted to believe him, you wanted to hold on to the love that had grown between you, but the cold reality was seeping into every corner of your heart. This marriage wasn’t just an obstacle—it was a wall that you couldn’t break through.

You stepped away, pulling your hands free from his grasp. The distance between you felt like a chasm now, one that neither of you could cross. “I don’t know if love is enough,” you whispered, the weight of the world pressing down on your chest. “I won’t have my heart broken every day of my life just for you to see me from afar.”

Your words hung heavy in the air, each one a dagger piercing both your hearts. Marcus's face fell, the determination in his eyes flickering like a candle in the wind. He reached out once more, but hesitated, his hand hovering between you as if unsure whether he still had the right to touch you.

"Mea columba, please," he pleaded, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Don't say that. Don't give up on what we have."

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly brushed it away, straightening your spine to muster whatever strength you had left. "I'm not giving up," you replied softly. "But I can't live a life where I'm constantly in the shadows, hiding what I feel, watching you build a life with someone else."

He shook his head vehemently. "My marriage to Lucilla will be in name only. It means nothing compared to what I feel for you."

"But it changes everything," you insisted, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. "She will be your wife. She will stand beside you in public, share your home, perhaps even bear your children. Where does that leave me? Sneaking around in the dark, pretending I don't exist whenever others are near?"

Marcus's expression crumpled, pain etched into every line of his face. "I would never ask you to diminish yourself like that."

"But that's exactly what this would be," you said, stepping back further to put some distance between you. "I deserve more than to be a secret, Marcus. And deep down, you know that."

He opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. The silence stretched between you, filled only by the distant sounds of the bustling city beyond the walls—a world that seemed determined to keep you apart.

Finally, he spoke, his voice hoarse. "What are you saying?"

You took a shaky breath, gathering the courage to face the truth you'd been avoiding. "I'm saying that perhaps it's time for me to leave."

His eyes widened in alarm. "Leave? No, you can't. I won't allow it."

A bitter smile tugged at your lips. "You can't keep me here, not like this. Not when staying would mean watching you live a life, I can never be a part of."

Desperation flashed across his face. "I can speak to the Emperor. I can refuse the marriage. There must be a way—"

"And risk everything you've worked for? Your honor, your position?" You shook your head sadly. "You and I both know that's not possible. The Emperor's command is absolute. Defying him would only bring ruin upon you."

"I would risk it for you," he insisted, taking a bold step forward. "For us."

"And that's precisely why I can't let you do that," you replied gently. "I won't be the cause of your downfall.” You inhaled “Because you would end up despising me for it.”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every movement. "So, what then? We part ways? Pretend none of this ever happened?"

You felt your heart break a little more at the pain in his voice. "I don't want to forget," you said softly. "I will cherish every moment we've shared. But sometimes, love isn't enough to overcome the obstacles before us."

Marcus's shoulders sagged, defeat washing over him. "I can't accept that."

"Neither can I," you admitted, tears welling up once more. "But it's the only way we can both move forward without destroying each other."

He looked at you with a profound sadness, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hope. "Where will you go?"

You offered a small, sad smile. "I'll find somewhere. Perhaps another household, or maybe I'll find a way to make a life for myself beyond these walls."

A tense silence settled between you. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely audible. "When?"

You swallowed hard. "Soon. Before the marriage takes place."

He closed his eyes briefly, as if trying to steady himself against the inevitable. "At least allow me to ensure you're safe. Let me arrange for you to be placed somewhere you'll be treated well."

You considered refusing but knew it would ease his mind. "Alright," you agreed quietly. "Thank you."

Marcus stepped closer once more, and this time you didn't pull away as he reached out to cup your face gently in his hands. "I love you," he whispered, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "That will never change."

A sob escaped your lips, and you placed your hand over his. "And I love you. More than you could ever know."

He leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours, and for a moment, the two of you stood there, memorizing every detail of each other's faces—the warmth of your breaths mingling, the softness of his touch, the sorrow in his eyes.

"Promise me something," he said softly.

"Anything."

"Promise me you'll find happiness," he murmured. "That you'll live the life you deserve."

You nodded slowly. "I promise."

A single tear rolled down his cheek, and he pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you as if it were the last time—as indeed it might be. You clung to him, wishing you could freeze time, keep this moment suspended forever.

After what felt like both an eternity and a mere heartbeat, you pulled away, knowing that if you didn't leave now, you might never find the strength again. "Goodbye, Marcus," you whispered.

He reached into the folds of his tunic and pulled out a small object—a simple silver pendant engraved with a laurel wreath. "Take this," he said, pressing it into your hand. "So you'll always have a part of me with you."

You looked down at the pendant, your vision blurred by tears. "I will treasure it always."

With a final, lingering glance, you turned and walked away, each step heavier than the last. As you left his chambers, the weight of your decision settled fully upon you, but beneath the pain, there was a quiet resolve. You were choosing your own path, difficult as it was.

Behind you, Marcus remained standing, watching you go until you disappeared from sight. The echo of your footsteps faded, leaving him alone with the emptiness of the room and the ache in his heart.

The days that followed were a blur. True to his word, Marcus arranged for you to be placed in the household of a kind widow on the outskirts of the city. The woman, Julia, welcomed you warmly, unaware of the depth of your connection to the general. To her, you were simply a skilled servant in need of a place, and she was grateful for the help.

Life in Julia's home was peaceful, a stark contrast to the turmoil of your emotions. Each day, you performed your duties diligently, but your thoughts often drifted back to Marcus—the sound of his voice, the warmth of his embrace, the intensity of his gaze as he declared his love for you.

News of his impending marriage reached you through whispers in the marketplace. The union was to be a grand affair, solidifying political alliances and elevating Marcus's standing even further. You tried to steel yourself against the pang of jealousy and sorrow that accompanied these rumors, reminding yourself that this was the path he was bound to follow.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson, you found yourself standing on a hill overlooking the city. The distant sounds of celebration drifted up to you—the marriage ceremony was taking place. Clutching the silver pendant around your neck, you closed your eyes and whispered a silent farewell.

"May you find happiness," you murmured into the evening breeze. "And may our paths cross again in another life."

As the first stars appeared in the sky, you took a deep breath and turned away from the city. There was a whole world beyond Rome's walls, and perhaps, in time, you would find your place in it—where you could heal and maybe even find joy once more.

Weeks passed, each one heavier than the last. You had settled into Julia’s villa , trying to find peace in the simplicity of your new life. But the ache in your heart remained, the thought of Marcus and his looming marriage never far from your mind. Each night, you clutched the silver pendant he had given you, hoping it might somehow tether your heart to his, even from a distance.

It had been months since you had last seen him, and you had resigned yourself to the reality that Marcus’s life had moved on, even if yours still felt frozen in time. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

One late afternoon, as you were tending to the garden outside Julia’s villa, you heard the distant sound of horses approaching. You looked up, wiping your hands on your apron, and saw a group of soldiers in familiar Roman armor riding up the path. Your heart skipped a beat. Could it be?

When they came to a stop, your breath caught in your throat. There, dismounting from his horse, was Marcus—his eyes searching frantically until they landed on you.

Your heart raced, and before you could even process what was happening, Marcus was striding toward you, his face a mix of determination and relief.

"Marcus?" you whispered, barely able to believe your eyes.

Without hesitation, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly, as if he had been afraid you might vanish if he let go. His warmth surrounded you, and for the first time in months, you allowed yourself to hope again.

"I found you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I told you we'd find a way."

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, confusion clouding your thoughts. "But… your marriage? Lucilla?"

Marcus shook his head, his gaze locked with yours. "It's over. The Emperor himself annulled it."

Your breath caught in your throat. "What? How? Why?"

A faint smile touched his lips, though his eyes were serious. "Lucilla… she didn’t want this marriage any more than I did. She petitioned to me, and together we spoke to the emperor. She’s in love with someone else, someone who she could never marry while bound to me." He paused, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. "And the Emperor, surprisingly, agreed to release both of us."

You stared at him, stunned, unable to fully comprehend what he was saying. "So, you’re free?"

He nodded. "I’m free, mea columba. I can choose my own path now. And I’ve come to ask you to walk it with me."

Tears welled in your eyes, but this time, they were tears of joy. "Marcus, I…" you stammered, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of emotions. "Is this real? Are you really here?"

He smiled then, the first genuine smile you’d seen from him in so long. "Yes, it's real. I love you. I don’t care what anyone else says or thinks. I want you by my side, not in the shadows. I want you to be with me—openly, proudly."

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Everything you had feared, all the obstacles that had once seemed insurmountable, had fallen away. And standing before you was the man you loved, offering you the life you had once thought was impossible.

You smiled through your tears, your heart bursting with happiness. "I love you, Marcus," you whispered. "And yes, I’ll walk that path with you. Wherever it leads."

With that, he leaned in and kissed you, a kiss full of promise and hope, sealing the future you would share. At that moment, everything felt right. The shadows of the past no longer held power over you, and the weight of uncertainty had lifted from your shoulders.

Marcus took your hand when he finally pulled away, lacing his fingers through yours. "Come," he said softly. "Let’s go. There’s a whole world waiting for us."

A few months later...

The soft morning light filtered through the open window of the villa, casting a golden glow over the room as you slowly stirred awake. The cool breeze carried the scent of wildflowers from the hills, filling the air with the promise of a new day. You lay in bed, nestled in Marcus's strong arms, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing.

For months now, you had known peace, a life far removed from the chaos and expectations of the Roman court. Marcus had retired from the military, choosing a quiet life with you in the countryside. The villa had become your sanctuary, a place where you could live freely, without the burden of secrecy or fear. No more hiding in the shadows—your love had found the light.

Gently, you shifted in Marcus’s embrace, your hand resting over your growing belly. A small, soft smile spread across your face as you felt the faint flutter of movement inside you. Marcus stirred beside you, his arms tightening around you instinctively, as though even in sleep, he wanted to protect you.

You gazed down at your hand, marveling at the life that grew within you—a symbol of the love you and Marcus had fought so hard to protect. This child, your child, was the future you had once feared might never come.

Marcus’s eyes slowly opened, and he smiled sleepily as his gaze met yours. "Good morning," he murmured, his voice deep and warm.

"Good morning," you whispered back, your hand still resting on your belly. His eyes followed the movement, and his expression softened as he reached out to place his hand gently over yours.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice filled with tenderness.

"I'm well," you replied, your smile widening. "The baby’s been very active this morning."

Marcus’s face lit up, and he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “And he will know freedom.”

His gaze lingered on you, filled with a deep, unwavering love. "I still can’t believe this is real," he said quietly, his thumb gently brushing your hand. "After everything, we’re here—together—and soon, we’ll have a family."

You felt tears prick your eyes, not of sorrow this time, but of pure happiness. "It’s everything I never thought I could have," you admitted softly. "But now, I can’t imagine life any other way."

Marcus leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a tender kiss, one that spoke of all the joy and gratitude you both felt. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, as if savoring the moment.

"I love you, Mea columba" he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "More than words can say."

"And I love you," you replied, your heart swelling with happiness. "For always."

Together, you lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of your journey behind you and the promise of a bright future ahead. The child you carried was a testament to your love, a symbol of the life you had built together despite all the odds.

Outside, the world continued to turn, but here, in this quiet, peaceful place, you had everything you had ever dreamed of, Marcus, your love, and the family you would soon welcome into the world.

The future stretched out before you, filled with light, joy, and hope. And as the first rays of sunlight touched the horizon, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you and Marcus would face them together, stronger than ever, bound by a love that had defied the impossible.

Your love had triumphed. And now, the greatest adventure of all was about to begin, the creation of a family, born out of that love.

[lumitoiile]

☆ :  neuvillette headcanons

summary : falling in love with the hydro dragon... happy birthday mister iudex ♡ gn! reader (no pronouns.) ╱ word count : 1.1k.

oh dear lord

neuvillette is a very reserved man, and he's long since mastered the art of keeping his feelings to himself. not that this is by choice—even after living among humans for five hundred years, he still struggles deeply with expressing himself.

which is why he finds falling in love with you to be both a wonderful blessing and a confusing curse all at once.

he's very unaccustomed to the feelings that stir inside his chest whenever he's around you. he doesn't even fully recognize what they are. but he does notice the way his gaze on you lingers longer than it should, the way his mind strays to you in his moments of quiet.

it unsettles him, this unfamiliar tug on his heart. soft yet insistent, like the rhythm of rain against a window.

he tries to rationalize it at first. he tells himself it's simply admiration, appreciation for your kindness, your wit... or perhaps the way you treat everyone with a warmth he's yet to master.

neuvillette is a logical man, after all. feelings like this aren't meant to exist in his framework of thinking.

yet despite his best efforts, the thought of you refuses to fade. he starts noticing other things, too: the way his chest tightens when you're near, how he can't quite meet your eyes without feeling an odd wave of vulnerability. in these challenging moments, he finds himself clutching his cane tightly; what's going on?

only after weeks of struggle does he finally understand these complex emotions of his. the realization, when it comes, is quiet yet profound. there's no grand epiphany or cinematic moment of clarity. it hits him like the gentlest rain, seeping into him so gradually it feels as though it's always been there.

he's in love.

and it's terrifying.

not because he doesn't want to, but because he doesn't know how. neuvillette has lived lifetimes without such a need for attachment. he's seen the fragility of human bonds, their fleeting nature, and he worries his feelings will only end in heartbreak.

but even with his fears, he can't find it in himself to step away. you've become part of him now, woven into his thoughts like the fabric of a tapestry.

neuvillette's silent admiration is subtle yet persistent—the prolonged stares, the way he finds excuses to be near you, the gentleness in his voice whenever he speaks your name.

this doesn't go unnoticed, of course, but it's still hard to tell exactly where you stand with him.

you spend countless nights second-guessing and wondering if you're imagining things. is he simply being polite? or do his gestures mean something deeper? the uncertainty becomes unbearable, like a storm you can't escape.

though there's no denying that it definitely feels like something, and it's not long before you decide the ambiguity is too much.

the confession is nerve-wracking and unsure, but your distress all but melts away when you see the look on his face. his breath hitches, his eyes are wide, and he stares at you like you're the most important person in the world.

you feel the same. and he's never felt more thrilled in his entire life.

neuvillette is horrendously awkward during the development of your relationship. he's very careful, and thoughtful to a fault, but very nervous and unsure how to navigate.

he spends an unreasonable amount of time constantly worrying about doing things right. he's always asking if he's being too distant or too clingy, if he's giving you too much affection or not enough. he's scared he'll overwhelm you or say the wrong thing.

but after some gentle reassurance on your part, he starts to warm up little by little. it starts slow; walking you home, leaving you little hand-written notes, his hand brushing against yours when you walk together.

but as he grows more comfortable, his gestures become more natural, and its not long before he's all over you. always holding your hand, pressing his lips to yours softly, holding you from behind when no one is around.

his love language is acts of service. while his vernacular is off the charts, he has a hard time finding the right words to express just how much you mean to him. so he finds ways to make your life more comfortable, even if it's just brewing your favorite tea or simply just listening to you talk about your day.

he's a busy man, but he still puts in an effort to set aside time for you. whenever there are days the opera epiclese is free of trials, he'll you out on romantic outings—whether it be a serene walk along fontaines picturesque beaches, or a quiet afternoon in a cafe, it's nice to spend these extra moments with you.

he definitely 100% makes sure you stay hydrated and often offers you a wide selection of his favorite types of water.

PDA is a no... he's fontaines honorable iudex after all, and he has an image to uphold. but he can be very touchy behind closed doors. his affection is featherlight and sweet, always sure to make you feel cherished and cared for. he loves holding your palms, leaning himself against you, cradling you close, anything as long as he gets to be near you.

he's obsessed with running his fingers through your hair.

as chief justice, neuvillette carries immense responsibilities. but emotional vulnerability doesn't come easily to him; he has a tendency to internalize things that are troubling him. but he tries his best for you, even though you often have to coax him into sharing.

he treats your happiness like a personal mission. he likes to do anything he can just to see you smile, and while gift giving isn't his area of expertise, he's not above leaving you fresh bouquets of romaritime flowers before he has to head off to work.

neuvillette isn't overbearing, but he has a natural instinct to shield you from harm. whenever you walk together, he always positions himself on the side closest to the street, and his hand hovers near your back in crowded spaces.

if anyone dares insult you or cause you harm, his polite veneer is quickly replaced by something much colder and more commanding. his voice sharpens, his eyes narrow, and he ensures the offender knows exactly how out of line they are.

sometimes he worries about the differences between you two—his immortality and your mortality—but he makes it clear that he deeply cherishes every moment he spends with you. "time is fleeting," he once told you. "but my love for you is not."

he just adores you, and cares for you intensely. the way he listens, the way he holds you close... his love is steady and endless, like the rain that sustains fontaine.

© lumitoiile. please do not copy, steal, or edit my work.

[latenightdaydreams]

Viking!König x Reader Part 3 (fem)

MDNI🔞

Part 1, Part 2

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, lactation kink, pregnancy, depression, fingering

1.7k word count

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As you sit in a grand wooden chair with beautiful hand carvings of a wolf and runes, you gaze out at the large fire before you. Watching the embers rise from the ashes, you zone out and go into your own mind. Around you there are loud cheers of celebration. It’s night two of the celebration to welcome their beloved leader’s new bride. 

You sit wearing a yellow dress that hugs your heavy breasts so perfectly for König’s lustful gaze. Other men look, but don’t dare comment on how stunning you are. König stands drinking as he gazes back at you. The look on your face is clear that you aren’t in the mood to be here. He excuses himself and walks to you, sitting in the chair matching yours beside you.

“Liebling, are you not having fun?” His voice is gentle as he rubs your back comfortingly.

Your attention turns to König. His blue eyes lock with yours, giving you the sensation of butterflies in your stomach. “I am just feeling tired.” Not a complete lie, you are tired still from the stress of everything that’s happened recently.

König stands and holds his hand out for you to hold. “Let us go back to our home.”

You look at his hand extended to you with hesitation. “I don’t want to ruin your celebration.”

“It’s our celebration. Besides, as your husband, your happiness is my new priority.” He gives you a genuine, gentle smile. “Come on.”

You slip your hand in his and stand. König announces your departure, but encourages everyone to continue the joyful festivities. His eyes glued to you the whole walk back to your shared home. Once inside, he brings you to the bed so you can sit. He gets on his knees before you and pulls each shoe off for you.

“Let’s get you comfortable.” König almost whispers to you as he removes your accessories from your body and assists you in removing your dress. His eyes gloss over your body as you sit on the bed naked. He can feel his cock get erect as his eyes fall on your full breasts.

“Would you like for me to relax you?” His hands caress your legs as he asks to drink from your breasts.

“No.” Your voice is small. You feel tired and emotionally drained.

König simply nods and caresses the side of your face. “Let’s get you to bed.” He walks over to the other side of the bed, undressing as he does. Once on the bed, he crawls behind you, delicately grabbing you and bringing you to him. Your naked bodies pressed together under the thick blanket, covering you both. You curl yourself into a small ball, enjoying the feeling of security he gives you.

“I love you, y/n. I hope to dream of you tonight.” He whispers, kissing your forehead gently as his eyes close. His fingertips roam over your soft skin. Your tender warmth being everything he craves.

You don’t say it back, he doesn’t expect you to. He understands that you’re still in a state of adjusting to your new life. König is someone new to get to know, but he believes that you will grow to love him. The way you react to his touch and melt into him as if you’ve known him from a past life. He knew from the moment your eyes met that this is how it’s supposed to be.

König falls asleep quickly, feeling secure with you in his arms. You on the other hand, don’t. In the distance you can still hear the sounds of the loud celebration. All you can think of is how you’ve been thrust into this new life without warning. What is Callum doing? How are the children?

You shift uncomfortably, unable to sleep. Your breasts are full and the noises around you aren’t helping soothe you. Gently, you nudge König. The giant man is a heavy sleeper so it takes a few shakes before one of his blue eyes open half way. He looks down at you, a small smile creeping across his lips as his vision adjusts on you.

“What is it, Liebling?”

“I- I can’t sleep.”

König props himself up on one elbow, his hair falling in front of his face slightly. “What can I do to help you?” He reaches out and caresses your face while you gaze into his eyes. There is a white milky bead dripping from your nipple, giving him the idea what you might need.

Without a word spoken, König lowers himself to bed so that his face lines up with your breasts. “I’ve got you.” He whispers, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you close to him. His mouth fishes for your leaking nipple, wrapping his lips around and suckling. Your other breast begins to let down, causing milk to drip onto König’s face, but he doesn’t mind. He switches between both nipples to ensure your comfort. His eyes close as his body relaxes.

A small sigh leaves your lips, his arms wrapped around your body along with how he suckles leaves you in a state of deep longing. You slowly comb your fingers through his golden locks, clueing König into the fact you want him. He lets his hand glide along your back down to your ass, squeezing lightly before moving his hand around your hip.

König combs his fingers through your soft hairs until he touches the lips between your legs. Before he even asks you if this is what you want, you spread your legs slightly to allow him entry. His fingers slide down your slick folds until his fingers slip into you.

“König.” His name drips from your lips so gently. You lightly pull on his hair, causing a low groan to rumble from his throat.

“Mhm.” He responds as his fingers lazily move in and out of you while his thumb makes small steady circles on your clit. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you, he’s aware of how sensitive you get, but he does want to make you orgasm so your body can relax for a good sleep.

You hate to admit that in moments like these, your past life seems far from you. You’ve never had someone tend to your every need. No matter how insignificant it may seem, König makes sure you’re comfortable and aware of the love he holds for you. Touching your body is never a chore, rather a privilege.

König feels your walls tighten around his fingers as your sweet arousal begins to drip down his finger. “That’s it, y/n. You’re so divine.” He mumbles with your full breasts still consuming his face. Your sticky milk glazes his pale skin.

Your moans grow steadily, König’s cock twitching as he leads you through your orgasm. His hips thrust forward to rub himself against the soft fat on your thigh, giving him the friction he craves. He pulls back and looks at your face once he feels your body relax and your moans quiet down.

Withdrawing his hand from between your legs, he scoots up to kiss your lush lips. “Is that all you need, Liebling?” His voice is soft laced with the lust he has for you.

“No, I want more of you.” You admit bashfully. König was going to give you every bit of himself.

This small moment in time created a bond within you to König. You started to wake up feeling a little less heavy, able to enjoy the people around you. Thyra took the lead in showing you the ways of a Viking woman and helping you maintain yourself a woman of status. Anywhere König went, you were right under his arm. Your love making could be heard at all hours of the day from the people of the village.

Naturally, all of the sex results in a missed flow cycle. You’ve missed them before so you know what it means. Knowing that König is busy training, you rush to Thyra’s home. Your hands bang on the wooden door of her home. She opens the door with a worried look, Hilda rushing to your side along with her.

“Hva er galt?” The two women ask, their voices overlapping.

With the language barrier, you’ve both been talking with body language. You point to your stomach and hold it. “Baby” you say with tears falling down your eyes. They understood instantly. Thyra went to comfort you as Hilda began to speak little blessing to you and the possible life within.

“Gå og hent ham.” Thyra speaks softly to Hilda as she continues to rock you. She’s aware of the children you left behind. Haven’t lost her only son in battle, she can relate to the feeling of loss that consumes you.

A few moments later König comes into her home. His hair up in a bun while his shirtless body sports new bruises and scrapes. With heavy breaths he rushes to you and scopes you into his large arms.

“Are you pregnant, Meine Liebling?”

“I think so.” Your voice shakes as you nuzzle your head into him and take deep breaths.

“This is good news, y/n.” He sits down with you on his lap, turning your face up to meet his gaze. “It will get easier, I promise.” His lips press against yours, rocking you back and forth to comfort you.

König had at least hoped things would get easier for you. They didn’t. As he had the pleasure to watch your soft body fill out with his child forming within you, he also had the misfortune of having to see your pain. A mother’s sadness, enough to bring a man like König to his knees.

As you sit in a grassy field, König sits beside you, looking at your beautiful face glowing but plagued with a permanent frown. “Do you worry you may not love our child?” He asks in a quiet voice, scared of your answer.

“I already do.” Your voice hoarse from all of your sobbing. “I just can’t help but to feel lost without my other children.”

König studies your face with, taking in how much this distance is taking a toll on you. You’re the love of his life. He never saw himself as a man that would be open to the idea of raising another man’s children, but for you he would give everything to see you smile again.

[onlyangel4]

sweet by majid jordan with lando, maybe lando didn't think he would ever fall in love again until he met reader

sweet. ln4. smau.

lando norris x model!reader

lando began to think that love was never going to find him again but after meeting reader he realised that good things come to those who wait

faceclaim: isabelle mathers

ln4fan

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 34,273 others

ln4fan: it has been almost two years since lando and lusia broke up and since then he has not been seen with anyone in a romantic way. i feel so bad for my boy he deserves love.

view all 1,273 comments

user1: i miss boyfriend era lando so much

user2: recently in an interview he said "it is really difficult to juggle a love life and this job, at the moment the job is my priority so i am not expecting to find love at the moment

user3: i just want my boy to be happy

y/ninsta posted a story

written: time to attend my first gp, a right of passage, can't believe i have never been to one in three years of living in monaco

f1celebs

liked by user4, user5, user6 and 43,843 others

f1celebs: model, monaco native and longterm friend of alexandra saint mleux y/n y/ln has arrived to the monaco grand prix. she will be spending the race in the ferrari garage

view all 348 comments

user4: i don't know who she is but she is gorgeous

user5: i just found her instagram she is stunning

user6: alex has the prettiest friends

y/ninsta posted a story

written: well done cha!

y/ninsta posted a story tagging alexandrasaintmleux

written: time to celebrate bestie's boyfriend

f1updates posted a story

written: lando norris spotted arriving at a restaurant in monaco to celebrate the gp. also in attendance charles and alex. daniel ricciardo and heidi, max and kelly, pierre and kika, along with alexandra's friend y/n y/ln

y/ninsta posted a story

written: nights like these

y/ninsta posted two stories

landonorris posted a story

written: sometimes you just need to get on a boat

ln4updates

liked by user7, user8, user9 and 48,274 others

ln4updates: lando is spending summer break in monaco and he was spotted outside of a bar in monaco with an unknown woman. could lando be back in his boyfriend era?

view all 1,328 comments

user7: he usually goes away for summer break, i wonder why he is staying in monaco

user8: now this could be a long shot but hasn't he met y/n y/ln, she lives in monaco. that could be a good enough reason to stay.

user9: he looks really happy, that's what matters

landonorris

liked by mclaren, y/ninsta, charlesleclerc and 1,329,233 others

landonorris: summer break done, time to get back to work

view all 13,282 comments

mclaren: will we be meeting mystery girl sometime soon

landonorris: fingers crossed for zandvoort

user10: omg he is out of his single era

user11: i am still convinced it is y/n, she liked the post

user12: looks like someone had an eventful summer break

y/ninsta posted a story tagging alexandrasaintmleux

written: self care on the plane is essential

alexandrasaintmleux posted a story tagging y/ninsta and flavy.barla

written: netherlands with my girls

mclaren posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: new driver for next season?

y/ninsta

liked by landonorris, alexandrasaintmleux, flavy.barla and 987,654 others

tagged: landonorris

y/ninsta: i am the proudest girlfriend in the entire world, well done lando!

view all 12,322 comments

landonorris: i love you so much

y/ninsta: love you more

flavy.barla: the perfect couple

y/ninsta: love you flavy

alexandrasaintmleux: lando should watch his back it is my master plan to steal you from him

landonorris: charlesleclerc what should we do about this

charlesleclerc: i fear there is nothing we can do

y/ninsta: you are correct cha

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[mixolya]

ᓚᘏᗢ — eternal echoes. rin itoshi.

synopsis: in which it doesn't matter which year it is, you and rin itoshi would always find back to each other.

warnings: death (it's a semi-happy ending). wc: 5,7k

note: i enjoyed writing this too much aaa!! sad letters are my thing 💔💔

year 1858. emperor and empress.

the first time you met him, you were royalty.

rin was the emperor of a vast, sun-drenched kingdom in ancient japan, his rule as unyielding as the mountains that bordered his lands. you were the daughter of a powerful daimyo, your marriage to him a strategic alliance meant to unite your families and bring stability to the region.

you did not expect to fall in love with him. but the moment you saw him standing at the altar, his eyes meeting yours, you felt it. that pull. that magnetic pull.

the wedding was a grand affair, held in the imperial palace. the air was thick with the scent of cherry blossoms, the sound of traditional instruments filling the courtyard. but all you could focus on was him. rin. the way his hand felt in yours, the way his voice sounded as he recited his vows, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the room.

"do you think we shall be reincarnated as a married couple as well?" you asked him one night, as you stood on the balcony of the palace, the moon casting a silver glow over the gardens below.

he didn't answer right away. instead, he reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. "perhaps," he said finally. "in another life."

you didn't know if he meant it, but it didn't matter. because in that moment, you knew you'd follow him anywhere.

your life together was full of challenges. political intrigue, wars, the weight of ruling an empire. but through it all, you had each other. and that was enough.

until it wasn't.

the war came suddenly, like a storm that had been brewing on the horizon for years. rin led his armies to the front lines, his determination as fierce as the fire in his eyes. you stayed behind, ruling in his absence, but your heart was with him.

when the news came, it was like the world has stopped.

rin had been gravely injured in battle.

you rushed to the battlefield, your heart racing. the sight that greeted you was one of chaos, smoke and blood and the cries of the wounded. but all you could see was him.

he was lying on a wooden bunk, his armor stained with blood, his face pale and fatigued. but when he saw you, he smiled. a smile, a faint smile, but it was enough.

"you have come," he said, his voice weak but filled with warmth.

"how could i have stayed away?," you asked, your voice breaking as you knelt beside him.

he reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. "forgive me," he whispered.

"do not," you said, tears streaming down your face. "do not apologize. only stay with me."

silence stretched between you before he spoke. instead, his eyes locked onto yours, searching for an answer. "in another life," he said finally. "in another life, i shall seek thee out and find thee once more."

and then, as the tears fell and the world faded away, he was gone.

you held him in your arms, the weight of his body a cruel reminder of what you had lost. but even as the pain threatened to consume you, you held on to his words.

"and i shall find thee too," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper.

year 1898. true fate.

the second time, you were philosophers.

you met in the bustling streets of kyoto, the city alive with the energy of scholars and seekers, all drawn to the ancient capital in pursuit of wisdom. you had come to study under a renowned master, your heart set on unraveling the mysterious of existence. but it wasn't the teachings of your mentor that would change your life. it was him.

rin.

he was standing on a wooden platform in the heart of the marketplace, his voice flowing smoothly over the crowd’s murmurs. rin's words were sharp, thougtful, cutting through the noise with an intensity that demanded attention. you stopped to listen, drawn not just by the sound of his voice but by the way he carried himself.

"the universe is not confined to our understanding," he said, scanning the crowd. "it exists beyond our perceptions, beyond our fears, beyond our desires. to seek truth is to acknowledge that we may never grasp it."

the crowd murmured, some nodding in agreement, others shaking their heads in dissent. but you stood there, mesmerized and fascinated.

when the lecture ended, you approached him, your hands clutching the scrolls you had been carrying. "your words," you began, your voice trembling slightly, "they have struck a chord within me."

he turned to you. "did they truly?"

you nodded, your throat suddenly dry. "indeed, i have long held that truth is not an object to be possessed, but a pursuit we must forever follow."

a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "you are different," he said.

"what is it you mean?"

"most people come to these debates with the intent to prove their righteousness," he said. "you, however, came to listen."

you felt your cheeks flushed, but you held his gaze. "i believe there is more to be learned from the questions we ask than from the answers we claim to have."

he studied you for a moment, his eyes, those beautiful eyes, searching yours. then he nodded, as if he had found something he was looking for. "come with me," he said.

you followed him to a quiet spot by the kamo river, where the water reflected the lanterns that lined the banks. the night was cool, the air filled with the soft chirping of crickets and the distant sound of laughter. you sat beside him on the grass, the silence between you comfortable, almost familiar.

"do you believe in fate?" you asked after a while, your voice soft.

no answer from him. instead, he looked out at the river, his expression thoughtful. "i believe in choices, yes," he said finally. "but i also hold that some things are simply inevitable."

"like what?"

he turned to you, his eyes meeting yours. "like this," he said.

your breath caught in your throat. "what do you mean?"

"i mean," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "it is as if i have known you before. as though we have spoken these words a thousand times, across a thousand different lives."

"do you think such thing is possible?" you asked, your voice trembling. "to find one another again, in another life?"

"yes."

year 1924. poetry lives forever.

the third time, you were writers.

you met in a small, dimly lit café tucked away in the heart of milan. the air smelled of coffee and old books, and the sound of rain tapping against the windows filled the silence. he sat at a corner table, his hair falling into his eyes as he scribbled furiously in a notebook.

you noticed him immediately. not just because he was beautiful, though he was, but because there was something about him that felt familiar.

you didn't mean to approach him. but when you dropped your pen and it rolled to his feet, he looked up, and your eyes met. for a moment, the world stopped.

"yours?" he asked, holding up the pen.

you nodded. "thank you."

he handed it to you, his fingers brushing against yours.

"i am rin," he said, his voice low.

you told him your name, and he smiled.

that was the beginning.

you started meeting at the café every day. he was working on a novel, and you were writing poetry. at first, you talked about your work, his characters, your metaphors, the way words could build worlds. but soon, the conversations turned deeper. you talked about life, about dreams, about the things that kept you up at night.

"do you ever feel, as though you are endlessly searching for something, though you cannot name it?" you asked him one evening, as the two of you sat by the window, the rain still falling outside.

he looked at you. "all the time," he said. "yet i do not know what it is."

you didn't know either. but you knew that being with him felt like coming home.

one day, you showed him a poem you had written. it was about reincarnation, about the idea that souls find each other again and again, across lifetimes.

"i'll find you in another life," you read aloud, your voice trembling slightly. "no matter where you are, no matter who you become, i'll find you."

when you finished, you looked up at him, scared of his reaction. he was silent for a long time. what did he think?

"how beautiful," he said finally, his voice low.

you felt your cheeks flush. "thank you."

he reached for your notebook, his fingers brushing against yours. "may i read it once more?"

you nodded, handing it to him. he read the poem slowly, his eyes scanning the words as if committing them to memory. when he finished, he looked up at you.

"how curious. i, too, write of reincarnation," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"you do?"

he nodded. "it speaks of two souls bound by an eternal pull, always finding one another, lifetime after lifetime. they do not always recall their past encounters, but the connection that never fades."

your breath caught in your throat. "do they ever uncover the reason?"

he looked out the window, his demeanor reflective. "i believe it is because they are destined to be together," he said finally. "though first they must release all that holds them apart."

you felt your chest tighten. "do you think such thing is possible?"

he turned to you, his eyes meeting yours. "i do not know," he said. "but i believe it is worth seeking, with all that i am."

year 1941. childhood best friends.

the fourth time, you were childhood friends.

it was 1941, in a calm, tiny city. the world was on the brink of war, but in your small corner of the world, life was simple. rin and you grew up next door to each other, your lives intertwined from the moment you could walk.

you spent your days exploring the woods behind your houses, building forts out of fallen branches, and chasing fireflies as the sun dipped below the horizon. rin was quiet, even then, but he had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the world.

"do you think we will always be friends?" you asked him one summer evening, as the two of you lay on the grass, the stars stretching out above you.

he reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours before answering.

"i think we will always be more than friends," he said finally.

as the war loomed closer, the atmosphere in your small town grew tense. boys you had grown up with began to enlist, their faces filled with a mixture of fear and determination.

rin, however, stayed behind. at least for a while.

"are you not going? why?" you asked him one evening, as the two of you sat on the porch swing, the sound of crickets filling the air.

he looked out at the horizon. "i don't know," he said. "i just feel like i am supposed to be here."

but eventually, the call to duty became too strong to ignore. the day told you he was enlisting, the world seemed to stop.

"i have to go," he said, his voice steady but his eyes betraying the weight of his decision.

you felt your chest tighten. "i will write to you," you said, tears slipping. "every day."

he smiled. "i will write back," he promised.

the letters started almost immediately.

rin's first letter arrived just a few weeks after he left. it was short, just a few lines scribbled on a piece of paper, but it was enough to make your heart soar.

"dear y/n,

i miss your voice. the nights here are too quiet, and i hate it.

are you doing okay? tell my parents i am fine, even if it is a lie. tell me about home, about anything. just write to me.

i miss you. more than i should.

rin."

you wrote back immediately, pouring your heart onto the page.

"beloved rin,

thank you for keeping your promise, but it feels so empty without you. the town is the same, yet it feels like a ghost town - maybe it is just me. there are more women than men, though. did they all enlist, too? i do not remember. i only remember you.

school is dull without you. who should i tell about the stars now? i don't even know what is happening in the world anymore. only that you are not here.

every night, i look at the stars and wish for you to come back.

promise me you will.

please come back. i miss you. so much.

sincerely,

y/n"

his letters became your lifeline. they were filled with stories of the other soldiers, of the places he had seen, of the things he had learned. but they were also filled with something else. something deeper, something that made your chest ache.

"dear y/n,

i dreamt of you last night. even though my nights are restless, i forced myself to sleep for a few minutes, and there you were - just like always. we were home again, lying on the grass, watching the stars. you were talking, but i do not remember what you said.

i only remember the way you looked at me, the way the night felt warm, like nothing in the world could do anything to us.

it felt real. too real. like we had done it before, maybe in another life. maybe in a life where i never had to leave.

i miss you too. more than i can say. more than i should.

i will come back.

rin."

you wrote back, your hands trembling as you held the pen.

"my beloved rin,

i dreamt of you too. maybe it is fate. maybe we were always meant to find each other, in this life or another. i like to think that no matter where we go, no matter how far, we will always find our way back. don't you think so too?

i can not wait to see you again. but you did not promise me you would come back. you almost did, but not quite. do it next time, okay? you would not want me to be sad, would you?

i love you i miss you more than words can hold. some nights, it feels unbearable.

sincerely,

y/n"

but then, one day, the letters stopped.

at first, you told yourself it was just the mail being delayed. but as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, the silence became unbearable.

you wrote to him every day, your letters filled with hope and fear and longing. but there was no response.

"my beloved rin,

it has been weeks since your last letter, and every passing day feels like an eternity. i tell myself that you are just busy, that the war keeps you from writing, that the mail is slow. but the silence is louder than any excuse i can make for you. and maybe, just maybe, you have chosen it.

i tell myself a thousand little lies just to keep my heart from breaking, but i think it is already shattered.

i do not know if you are safe. i do not know if you are cold or hungry, if you have enough to eat, if you have made friends or if you are alone. i do not know if you still think of me. if, in the quiet moments between gunfire and marching orders, you close your eyes and see my face the way i see yours every time i close mine.

i miss you. i miss you in ways that feel unbearable, in ways that make it hard to breathe. i miss your voice, the way it could turn the worst days into something softer. i miss your laugh, the one you used to hide behind your hand when i said something ridiculous. i miss the way you used to hold me, like i was something precious, something you could not bear to lose. and yet here i am. lost. left behind. abandoned to empty nights and unanswered letters.

i still look at the stars, rin. every night. just like we used to. i try to find the constellations you loved, the ones you traced with your fingers against the sky, whispering their names like a prayer. and sometimes, for just a moment, i let myself believe that maybe you are looking at them too. that maybe, somewhere across this vast, war-torn world, you remember me.

but what if you do not? what if the war has changed you? what if the boy i love has been swallowed by something i will never understand? what if i am writing to someone who no longer exists?

i want to be angry with you. i want to scream and curse your name for leaving me behind, for choosing this war over me, for breaking every promise you ever made. you once swore you would never leave me, do you remember that? do you remember pressing your forehead against mine and whispering, "always. no matter what."

was that a lie, rin? or did you just not think i was worth staying for?

i know you wanted to be someone great. i know you thought enlisting would make you a man, that it would give your life purpose. but what about our life? did it ever hold any meaning for you? or was i just a quiet part of a life you were always meant to outgrow?

i try to be strong. i try to go about my days as if i am not coming apart at the seams. but everything reminds me of you. the sounds of boots against the pavement. the scent of fresh rain on the earth. the way the wind moves through the trees.

i wish i would have told you my feelings i hold for you. i wish i would have told you how much i love you and how you should not go to the war. that you are walking into death.

i have to ask. do you miss me at all? or has the war taken even that from you?

i do not know how much longer i can do this. how much longer i can keep waiting for letters that may never come, for a love that may no longer exist, for a boy who may already be gone. i do not know if you are alive, and that uncertainty is eating me alive, rin.

but if you are alive. if you are still out there, still breathing, still the same boy who once swore we would always be together. please. please write back. even if it is just to tell me that i no longer have a place in your heart. at least then, i will know to stop waiting.

with all the love i have left,

y/n"

but there was no response.

"do you think he is okay?" you asked your mother one evening, your voice trembling.

she didn't answer right away. instead, she reached for your hand, her fingers intertwining with yours. "i don't know, dear," she said finally. "but i think he would want you to keep living."

you didn't know what to say to that. but as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, you began to understand.

one night, as you lay on the grass, it felt like rin was laying right beside you.

"i will find you," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "in another life, i will find you again."

and as the tears fell and the world faded away, you knew it was true.

year 1997. poetry truly lives forever.

the fifth time, you were desk mates.

the world felt both vast and small at the same time. you were both in high school, sitting in a classroom that smelled like chalk dust and old books. the desks were arranged in neat rows, and you found yourself seated next to him. rin itoshi. he was quiet, always scribbling in a notebook, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he focused on whatever he was writing. you didn't know much about him, but there was something about him, but it seemed like you couldn't figure that out.

the teacher stood at the front of the room, holding a worn anthology of poetry. "today," she said, her voice crisp and clear, "we will be analyzing a poem by y/n l/n, a poet from the 1920s. y/n, since you share her name, why don't you read it aloud for us?"

of course you have to read it a loud. you were named after the poet. your mother loved her since she was a kid. still, your heart skipped a beat. you weren't used to being called on, especially not in front of the whole class. but you stood up, clutching the book in your hands, and began to read.

"i'll find you in another life," you read aloud, your voice trembling slightly. "no matter where you are, no matter who you become, i'll find you. across lifetimes, across oceans, across the stars. i'll find you."

the room was silent when you finished. you glanced up, your eyes instinctively finding rin's. he was staring at you, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes, almost unsettling.

"thank you, y/n," your teacher said, breaking the silence. "now, let's discuss the themes of the poem. what do you think the poet is trying to convey?"

the class erupted into chatter, but you couldn't focus. you kept glancing at rin, who was now scribbling furiously in his notebook. when the bell rang, you gathered your things, but before you could leave, rin stopped you.

"that poem," he said, his voice low. "it's familiar."

you blinked, surprised. "familiar?"

he hesitated, then opened his notebook and handed it to you. inside were pages filled with his handwriting. lines and lines of poetry, all about reincarnation.

"i dreamt of you last night," one line read. "not as you are now, but as you were before. in another life, in another time, i knew you."

your breath caught in your throat. "you're writing about reincarnation too?"

he nodded, his dark eyes searching yours. "yeah. i don't know why, but it's like i can't stop thinking about it. about the idea that we've lived before. that we have met before."

you didn't know what to say. the poem you had just read, the words rin had written. it all felt too coincidental, too real.

"do you think it's possible?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "to find someone again, in another life?"

"i don't know," he said. "but if it is... i think i would find you."

your chest tightened, your heart pounding in your chest. "and if you did?"

he smiled. "i'd tell you the same thing i'm telling you now."

"what's that?"

"i'm glad i found you."

from that day on, the two of you became inseparable. you spent hours after school in the library, analyzing poems and sharing your own writing. rin's notebook became a treasure trove of stories about lifetimes and love, and you found yourself drawn to his words - and to him.

one day, as the two of you sat under a tree in the school courtyard, rin turned to you, his expression serious.

"would you try to find me in another life? if i would die today?" he asked.

you looked at him, surprised. "why would you say such things?"

"would you?" he ignored your question, his gaze unwavering, determined to get an answer out of you.

the weight of his question hung in the air, heavy and unrelenting. you hesitated. but then you looked into his eyes - those dark, intense eyes that always seemed to see right through you - and you knew your answer.

"yes," you said, your voice firm despite the tremor in your chest. "yes, rin, i would."

for a moment, he didn't respond. he just stared at you. then, without warning, he leaned in, his hand cupping your cheek as his lip met yours.

the kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if he was afraid you might pull away. but when you didn't, when you leaned into him instead, your hands gripping the front of his shirt, it deepened. deepened, becoming something more. something desperate, something aching, something that felt like it had been building for lifetimes.

when he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

"good," he whispered, his voice rough. "because i'd find you too. no matter what."

you didn't know what to answer, but you didn't need to. because in that moment, under the shade of the tree with the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves, you knew it was true.

no matter how many lives you lived, no matter how many times you had to start over, you would always find each other.

you thought.

year 1978. strangers.

the sixth time, you were strangers on a train.

it was a cold winter morning, and the train was packed with commuters. you sat by the window, your breath fogging up the glass as you stared out at the blur of snow-covered buildings rushing past. the rhythmic clatter of the train on the tracks was soothing, almost hypnotic, and you let yourself drift, your thoughts wandering.

that's when you saw him.

he was sitting across the aisle, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he stared down at a book. there was something about him - you feel like you know him, but this was your first time seeing him.

who was he?

you found yourself glancing at him more than once, your heart skipping a beat every time he turned a page or adjusted his scarf.

you didn't know why, but you felt drawn to him. like a magnet pulling you closer, even though you were sitting perfectly still.

days turned into weeks, and you began to notice him every morning. he always sat in the same spot, always reading, always quiet. you never spoke, but sometimes your eyes would meet, and for a brief moment, it felt like you knew each other for decades.

one morning, the train was unusually empty. you sat in your usual seat, and to your surprise, he sat down across from you.

"mind if i sit here?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.

you shook your head, your heart racing. "no, not at all."

for a while, neither of you spoke. he went back to his book, and you pretended to focus on yours. but then, out of nowhere, he looked up and said, "do we know each other?"

you blinked, surprised. "i don't think so, why?"

he hesitated, then closed his book and set it aside. "i don't know, i feel like we know each other from somewhere."

"oh," you said, as the train neared your station. "i have to leave. i'll see you around," you smiled at him before hurrying out the train.

the next morning, he wasn't there.

you waited, your heart sinking as the train pulled into the station and he didn't appear. the days turned into weeks, and still, there was no sign of him.

you didn't know why, but it felt like a piece of you was missing.

year 2025. bury your feelings.

the seventh time, you were his manager, though neither of you was happy about it.

rin itoshi was a force of nature on the soccer field, a prodigy who had no patience for rules, authority, or anyone telling him what to do. he'd gone through managers like water, firing them one after another, until his mother - a woman as formidable as she was elegant - decided enough was enough.

that's where you came in.

you were the daughter of a close family friend, a rising star in sports management with a reputation for being as stubborn as you were brilliant. when rin's mother assigned you to be his manager, you knew it wouldn't be easy. but you also knew you couldn't say no.

your first meeting was a disaster.

rin stormed into the sleek, modern office of the team's headquarters, his dark eyes blazing with barely contained fury.

"i don't need a manager," he snapped, his voice low and dangerous.

you didn't flinch. "good thing i'm not here to ask for your permission, then."

he glared at you, his jaw tightening. "you think you can handle this just because you're oh-so-brilliant?"

you met his gaze without hesitation. "i know it."

from that day on, your interactions were a battlefield. you pushed him harder than anyone ever had, demanding perfection in every drill, every practice, every match. he resisted at every turn, his pride bristling at the idea of someone telling him what to do.

"you're not my boss," he stared at you after one particularly intense practice session.

"you're right," you shot back, your voice sharp. "i'm the person who's going to make sure you don't waste your talent. whether you like it or not. i promised your parents."

he didn't respond, but the look he gave you could have melted steel.

despite the tension, there were brief moments when you saw something beneath the surface. like when he stayed late after practice, perfecting a shot until his hands were raw and his breath came in ragged gasps. or when he quietly helped a younger player with his technique, his usual arrogance replaced by something softer. every time, you were there, watching him.

one night, someone knocked at your apartment door.

you didn't want to open the door. it was late. too late for anyone to be standing in front of your door. but when you peeked through the peephole and saw rin standing there, you knew it was going to be one of those nights.

you took a deep breath and pulled the door open, ready for another round of heated arguments, only to freeze when you saw him.

he was leaning against the doorframe, his duffle bag hanging loosely from one hand, his other clutching his phone. his usually perfect hair was a mess, dark strands sticking to his forehead, and his pale face looked like he hadn't slept in days.

"what?" you asked, crossing your arms, though you couldn't help but noticed how his eyes, usually sharp and focused, were dull with exhaustion.

"i forgot my keys," he muttered, voice hoarse and rough. "can't get into my place, and i have no one to call."

you narrowed your eyes at him. "you expect me to let you in? just like that?"

rin's lips twisted in a familiar, defiant smirk, but it didn't reach his eyes. "what's the alternative? i sleep in my car?"

you felt the familiar flare of irritation rise up within you. you hated the way he always seemed to get under your skin. the way he acted like he was always one step ahead. but when you took a second look at him, pale, tired, and standing in your doorway like he was too exhausted to even be annoyed with you anymore, you felt a sudden, unwanted pang of sympathy.

"fine," you said, stepping aside reluctantly.

he stepped inside, shoulders sagging slightly as he dropped his bag by the door. there was a strange tension between you both as he stands there, not making eye contact, like neither of you knew what to say next.

the silence stretched, thick with the usual animosity, but there was something else hanging in the air, something you couldn't quite place.

"i didn't think you'd actually let me in," he muttered, looking at the floor.

you shrugged, turning toward the kitchen. "i didn’t think you’d show up at all. it’s not like we’re best friends, rin.”

you both knew it’s not the full truth. you had fought tooth and nail from the moment his mother handed him over to you as his manager, but somewhere along the way, the constant bickering had turned into something else. a little more tolerance. a little more understanding.

still, you couldn't let him off the hook that easily.

“you really should’ve called sae,” you added, tossing a bottle of water his way.

he caught it, staring at it for a second before his lips quirked upward, just a little. “are you teasing me?”

you almost smiled at that, despite yourself. “no.”

he sank into the couch, closing his eyes and leaning back, his exhaustion finally catching up with him. you could see it now. the way his shoulders were tense, the way his hands were trembling just a little as he took a sip of water.

it was almost strange, seeing him like this. the usual confident, untouchable athlete is gone, replaced by someone who looked human, vulnerable even. it made the usual anger between you feel a little more fragile, like it could break at any moment.

“do you need anything else?” you asked, trying to hide the slight softness in your voice.

rin shook his head, not opening his eyes. “just don’t make me go back out there. i don’t know where else to go.”

there was a heaviness in his words. and for the briefest moment, you thought about it, about how much of him had been buried beneath the mask of a football star. but you didn’t dwell on it.

you stepped back, pretending not to hear the vulnerability in his tone. “don’t get comfortable. you’re only staying for the night. i have a ton of work to do, and i'm not babysitting you.”

rin huffed out a laugh, even though it’s weak. “babysitting me? despite you being my manager, i'm still older than you.”

the tension between you two simmered beneath the surface. but for the first time, there was a flicker of something else in his eyes. it was fleeting, barely noticeable, but you caught it.

it was something like trust. or maybe need.

you couldn't tell.

but for now, you let him stay. and when you finally turned away to leave the room, you thought about how this felt like there was something the universe tried to tell you both.

[prythianpages]

Strange Love | Azriel

Azriel x Green Witch | Summary: In which your daughter, Alora, nearly sends Azriel into a mini crisis when she tells you she has a boyfriend.

warnings: fluff, Az stressing out over his baby girl

word count: 2,700

a/n: This can be read as a stand alone Dad Az fic! Here we have another fic inspired by a Bob's Burgers episode lol. I also wanted to show more of older Mel since we only got a glimpse of her so far.

The house is peaceful and quiet, save for the comforting rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock. A glance at it and Azriel knows the quiet won’t last much longer. Or the peace.

He leans back into the armchair, savoring the warmth of the steaming cup of tea in his hands—a special brew you created just for him many years ago. "A one-of-a-kind brew for a one-of-a-kind male," you had said. You sit beside him on the love seat, legs criss-crossed, with a spell book hovering in front of you, green magic surrounding you. Though it doesn’t look like it, the spells in your ancient book are endless, and judging by the darkened look in your eyes, he senses you must be reading about a new one.

His attention is once more drawn away from the book in his hands as his eyes land on the portrait that hangs over the grand fireplace. It is a family portrait you had commissioned from Feyre years ago. His lips tug up into a fond smile as he remembers the day you all gathered to pose for Feyre. It was hectic and chaotic and full of promises to your daughters to get them to stay still long enough for Feyre to complete her sketch.

It was all worth it, even if it resulted in you giving in to Mel's request and brewing a laughing potion. That she then slipped into Cassian's twins's drinks during your weekly dinners, driving everyone insane...

 You sat on a shorter stool than Azriel, perfectly situated between his legs. His gaze lingers on you, admiring the way Feyre captured your beauty. Your familiar, Binx, was on your lap while your pet spider, Pearl, rested on one of your shoulders. 

Unfortunately, Pearl passed shortly after the portrait was completed. You preserved her web with your own magic, allowing it to stand magnificently in the corner of your living room. Melaina, your firstborn, crocheted a replica of Pearl that now rests in that web, a touching tribute to the beloved spider that had spent so many years with you. Pearl herself was laid to rest in the forest, a serene place you visit often.

A young Melaina stood on his right, holding her pet scorpion as if it were a mere pup—the only reason she smiled for the portrait. Now a teenager, it’s a miracle if she smiles that brightly, preferring to don a cool mask instead. She’s just like her father in many ways.

Alora, your second born, had just turned three at the time. She was happy to clutch onto her father’s left arm, leaning into him, with the widest of toothy grins. Both of his wings were curled protectively around his favorite girls, a genuine smile of his own gracing his face.

It is a beautiful portrait, one that captures the magic and love in his little family well.

Azriel’s shadows begin to sing excitedly, the black cat curled up by his feet, lifting its head toward the door.

The door slams open, like it does every weekday at this hour. Mel walks in first, giving both him and you a nod in greeting. There’s a spark of mischief in those hazel eyes of hers but before either of you could question it, her shadows are wrapping around her and hiding her away from view as she runs to her room, still not having mastered winnowing. 

Teenagers.

Lor walks in next, hazel eyes bright and full of dreams. She’s mumbling and giggling to herself, making Azriel’s ears and shadows perk, straining to discern her words. She looks at Azriel first, then at you. “Mommy, Daddy,” she says in greeting, closing the door softly behind her and resting against it. She lets out a deep sigh.

“I’m in love.”

And there it was. That destruction of peace and quiet.

Azriel spits out his tea, choking on the curse he wanted to say but thought better against. His shadows are quick to run down his back in a soothing manner and you shoot him a look. The spellbook lands gently onto your coffee table, your full attention now on your daughter.

“That’s lovely, my pretty.” You tell her. “Who’s the lucky soul?”

“Lovely?” Azriel sputters, a small glare settling onto his features. He reluctantly accepted losing Mel to teenagehood, but Lor? Lor was eleven. She still had a year or two left. The mere thought of losing her too made his wings shudder.

“She’s just a girl!”

“She’s just a girl,” you repeat, tilting your head at him in further warning, that if Azriel wasn’t so worked up, he’d laugh at.

“I think he’s my boyfriend now. I invited him over for dinner!”

“Splendid!”

“No,” Azriel shakes his head. “Uninvite him.”

“Az, my love—“

The look he sends you has your words cutting off. You bring your hand to your mouth, covering up your grin, no doubt. There’s pure amusement dancing in your eyes. This moment was no different than the time Mel had her first crush.

Lor, oblivious or choosing to be oblivious to her father’s burning stare, runs to you with a squeal. She curls into your side and you smile fondly at her.  “I’ll make your favorite tonight, my pretty,” you say, running a hand through her long hair. “Tell me all about him.”

And though Lor’s favorite was his favorite, Azriel was suddenly dreading dinner.

He lets out a huff, standing from his seat. His shadows swarmed around him, mirroring his inner turmoil. He shoots you one last look– a look of utter betrayal–before leaving the room, unable to sit there and listen to his daughter talk about how someone else was vying for his little girl’s attention. 

Yet, a single shadow lingered in the living room...

**

Azriel knew this day would come, but that day was not going to be today.

It was similar to the way he felt when Mel first brought a boy home for dinner. But also different. Mel was strong-minded and had a well guarded heart. She had also been a couple of years older. Lor was naive and wore her heart on her sleeve. It was merely a week ago that she had come home crying from school because her classmate looked at her a certain way.

Love, crushes, heartbreak—they were all parts of growing up. Something you reminded Azriel as he helped you with dinner. He knew he had to let her experience them but boyfriends? Not now.

Lor was still too young. If it were up to him, there’d be a strict no boyfriend policy until both his daughters were in their second century.

Tonight, he would meet this boy, this intruder into his daughter's heart. He would be civil, for Lor's sake. Or at least try. He’d be watching the boy's every move, ready to step in at the slightest sign of trouble.

Azriel’s thoughts swirled as he chopped vegetables, his hands moving automatically while his mind wrestled with the reality of the situation. The protective father in him balked at the idea of her being hurt, her innocent heart broken by some boy who couldn’t possibly appreciate her.

A kiss on his cheek pulled him out of his thoughts, the knife in his hand coming to a stop. “You’re sulking, my love,” you said with slight humor in your tone, setting the knife down for him. You cupped his face in your hands, thumbs smoothing out the furrows of his brows. “Don’t worry, Az. She’s only eleven. I doubt this crush is anything serious.”

“But–”

“And if it is, we’ll simply have a talk with her.” You add as an afterthought, reassuring him that you were on his side.

“I love you, you know.”

You grin at him. “Well, that’s a relief. We have been mates for many years.”

**

Azriel watches with a slight frown as Lor literally buzzes with excitement, peeking through the windows of the dining room that face the street. Binx is seated on the window sill, his tail moving and reflecting his curiosity. You take the seat beside Azriel, saving the one beside Lor for your much-anticipated guest.

Mel is crouched on the floor, sprinkling a couple of crickets to feed her pet scorpion, Sprinkles. Her shadows still, wings tensing for a brief moment. She lifts her head, turning toward Lor. “He’s here,” she announces before excusing herself to wash her hands in the kitchen.

Azriel’s own shadows slither toward the door, following after Lor. He hadn’t heard the knock Mel did but he’s shifting in his seat nonetheless. Despite today being his day off, he chose to wear his fighting leathers for dinner, wanting to look every bit the menacing Spymaster he could be.

All seven of his cobalt siphons gleam proudly.

But then Lor walks into the dining room. Alone.

“Dad, Mom,” Azriel’s lips purse at the change of title, not liking the two letter drop from either of yours. She points to her side. “This is Jace.”

Azriel blinks. Once. Twice. His shadows flutter toward the spot Lor is gesturing at only to return to him with nothing. He looks at you. But you’re just as dumbfounded.

“Oh!” Lor giggles, eyes widening in realization. “I forgot to mention he’s a ghost.”

Even more confusion clouds Azriel’s features but that confusion slowly morphs into relief. He lets out a long breath—a chuckle almost. You place your hand onto his thigh, squeezing it in warning. “Just roll with it,” you murmur quietly to him, not wanting to upset Lor. The smile that forms on your face next is strained.

“Hi Jace. Have a seat please.”

Azriel says nothing, gaze narrowing at Lor. 'Jace' might be imaginary but it did little to ease his protective instincts. It was now the idea of his youngest daughter having a boyfriend that didn’t sit well with him. He has no intentions on being friendly to Jace, especially when Lor pulls back his seat for Jace to sit at.

The tension at the dining table was palpable. You were grateful when Mel returned, her presence breaking the uncomfortable silence.

But not in the way you hoped it would.

“Oh hey, Jace.” She greets casually, turning her toward his direction. There’s a gleam in her eye, as if she’s taking in the presence beside her younger sister.  “Nice shirt.”

Azriel feels another squeeze on his thigh but it’s different this time and followed by an awkward clearing throat sound from you. It had him tensing underneath your touch.

Azriel’s shadows could pick up on things others couldn’t but Mel? Mel could not only do the same with her shadows but she could also see things others couldn’t. Her first friend had been a ghost–the ghost of Rhysand’s little sister.

And now, it seemed that Lor’s first boyfriend was a ghost.

**

"That's it. She's breaking up with him now," Azriel murmured, shaking his head with a resolute finality.

The two of you had excused yourselves to the kitchen shortly after finishing dinner. A dinner that barely lasted half an hour, yet felt like an eternity with Azriel burning a hole into the chair beside Lor’s with his piercing gaze. She giggled at whatever Jace supposedly said and did most of the talking for him, with Mel chiming in occasionally.

 Azriel’s only comfort at the moment was that Mel remained in the dining room with Lor and Jace, knowing that if the ghost tried anything, Mel would happily take care of it. He looks at you, ready for you to disagree or offer a different solution. But you merely shake your head in agreement.

“Okay,” you breathe. “I’ll have Mel help me with a séance.”

“And I’ll talk to Lor.”

The plan was set then, the two of you walking back into the dining room. A stoic expression on Azriel’s face but a coy one on yours. 

Azriel clears his throat and you give his hand a squeeze in encouragement. “Lor, can we talk?”

“But–”

“Don’t worry, sweets. Mel and I will keep Jace company.”

Lor’s hazel eyes flickered between you and Azriel. She gave a soft sigh of defeat, mumbling something to Jace as she reluctantly followed Azriel into his study a couple of doors away. You waited until they were both out of view before turning your attention to Jace.

The chair he sat in slid backwards under your scrutiny.

Something hadn’t felt right about this entire situation. You didn’t have the same gift as Mel, but years of experience had left you with keen intuition and the ability to pick up on energies. When Mel started seeing Rhysand’s little sister, you had sensed that child-like energy.

But tonight, you felt nothing of the sort.

Your eyes landed on Mel, who remained seated at the dining table. Sprinkles was on her lap, and she ran a finger down the scorpion’s spine as she looked back at you. You raised an eyebrow at her and she did the same.

When you gave her that same scrutinizing gaze you had given the so called ghost, Mel caved in.

It was then that you saw it–a single shadow revealing itself as it crept up the arm of the chair Jace was ‘sitting’ in. It tugged the chair backwards again. The corner of Mel’s lips lifted into the faintest of smirks, a small chuckle slipping from her throat.

“You made up Jace, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.” Mel replies with a shrug of her shoulders. “Maybe, I like messing with dad. Maybe, I like messing with Lor…though, Jace did make Lor the coolest girl in school today…”

**

Meanwhile, Azriel led Lor into his study, his demeanor more composed than he felt. As his shadows closed the behind them, he took a moment to gather his thoughts, trying to find the right words...

“Daddy,” Lor began hesitantly, her voice soft but curious, “how did you know you were in love with Mommy?”

Azriel was taken aback by the question, his chest tightening at the return of his usual title. He hadn’t expected such a direct inquiry, but he welcomed it. He took a deep breath, his mind drifting back to the early days with you.

By the Mother, he had been such a fool in the beginning and he probably wasn’t the best at this. Something he would tell Lor once she was older–the same way he had told Mel when she had come to him for advice on similar matters.

“Well, it wasn’t something that happened overnight. I knew your mother was someone special to me the moment I met her. But it wasn’t until I got to know her better that I fell in love. It grew from the little moments we shared and the way she understood me.”

Lor tilted her head, absorbing his words. “She told me once that you were so brave you took an arrow for her.”

Azriel chuckled, surprised that you had shared that story. He wondered how much of your story you had told her already. “I did. I’d take many more for her.”

“Wow,” Lor whispered, her hazel eyes widening with the kind of wonder and admiration he adored seeing on her.

“I’d do the same for you too.” Azriel continued, shadows sweeping over her fondly. She giggled, squirming in her seat. “I’d do anything for my girls because I love you all."

"You see, love is a deep emotion. It’s difficult to explain as everyone can experience it differently. Sometimes, it can be overwhelming and complicated. But what I can tell you is that love is not just about excitement or attraction. It’s about truly caring for someone.”

Lor listened intently and Azriel could see her processing his words, the wheels turning as she considered her own feelings. After a moment of silence, she let out a sigh. “I don’t think I’m in love then. I mean, I like Jace, but I think I like him as a friend more.”

A wave of relief washed over Azriel and he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. “You’re still growing and learning about yourself. Love will come in time, but for now, you’re too young to have a boyfriend.”

Lor nods in understanding, surprising Azriel with just how easy this conversation had been. She sunk back into the velvet armchair, a hint of concern still etched onto her face. “But I’ll find love someday, right? Like you did with mommy?”

“Someday,” Azriel smiled at Lor, reaching out to ruffle the top of her hair. “Maybe when you’re two-hundred and fifty.”

Lor gasped incredulously. “Two hundred and fifty??”

“Hey, consider yourself lucky. I was five-hundred and thirty nine when I started dating your mother.”

Lor’s jaw dropped in astonishment. A shadow gently nudged it closed. She blinked up at him, her eyes still wide.

“Jiminy crickets, you’re old!”

Azriel’s smile dropped quicker than a potion bubbling over.

a/n: I could not for the live of me come up with a better simile for that ending lol so sorry it's kind of lame. I hope I was able to convey Azriel's inner turmoil well and that you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed the idea of it.

Mel is 6 years older than Lor. I honestly don't know how aging works for fae, like what's considered age appropriate but considering Az was messing around and underwent the bloodrite in his 20s, 17 is an okay age for Mel to have, had a boyfriend? Even if Az hated that too.

series tag list:@fxckmiup, @aria-chikage

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human, @mrsjna

[fastandcarlos]

: ̗̀➛ IMAGINE

: ̗̀➛ Cuddles Are Home

as max arrives home after a busy day, he's keen to try something new, however it doesn't quite work out as well as he imagined

: ̗̀➛ Sweet Voice

the sobs of your daughter could be heard for miles, but there's one voice that always seems to know the way to soothe her

: ̗̀➛ The Biggest Tease

you're all for supporting max's career, but isn't a sex ban just a step too far?

: ̗̀➛ Restless Baby

1.1k words of dad and husband max trying to fix the angsty mess that he’s made

: ̗̀➛ Padel Queen

when max suggests couples padel with george and carmen, he worries about how good you'll be, little does he know though what a master of padel you are

: ̗̀➛ Never An Interruption

you’re all ready to celebrate max’s win with him, only when you find someone already there to celebrate, you begin to question the role you truly play in max’s life

: ̗̀➛ The Perfect Wake Up

reunited at last, the two of you savour the feeling of finally being back with each other again

: ̗̀➛ Sleepless Nights

as your daughter cries out yet again, you can’t help but feel like the problem, especially when max swoops in and saves the day again

: ̗̀➛Baby Sibling

whilst all his friends are having siblings, your son is keen for the two of you to start thinking about when he can have one too

: ̗̀➛ Bump Cuddles

watching you pregnant is a dream for max, especially with your bump there on offer for him to always snuggle up to

: ̗̀➛ Sleepless Nights

when max leaves you and your daughter to stream for the night, only one of you is happy to let max go and play for a while

: ̗̀➛ Helping Hand

what was supposed to be a nice dinner for the two of you is ended with fans waiting around. with your nerves growing, max is there to protect you

: ̗̀➛ My Little Graduate

you’re all prepared to graduate with your family by your side, and an unexpected extra sneaking into the crowd

: ̗̀➛ Home For The Summer

travelling around the world with max is one of your favourite things to do, however none of it compares to home. even though you can’t afford to make it there, someone else might just

: ̗̀➛ Clingy

how does it feel to have the clingiest partner in the world? well, max verstappen can tell you

: ̗̀➛ All Your Little Things

imagine being able to date the perfect gentleman, well that’s exactly what you get being the one in a relationship with max

: ̗̀➛ She's In Labour, Now?

it wasn’t supposed to happen yet, especially with max preparing for a race…

: ̗̀➛ SMAU

: ̗̀➛ Family Affair

it’s a family affair at the singapore grand prix as the entire verstappen family come to cheer max on

: ̗̀➛ Missing Piece

fans are beginning to notice your absence around the paddock, little do they know the amazing reason you’re finding yourself hiding away

: ̗̀➛ Hometown Glory

it all leads up to the race at zandevoort, and we all know how it ends

: ̗̀➛ Life With The Verstappen Family

a glimpse into the life of the verstappen family and your two little ones who are always causing chaos

: ̗̀➛ A Decade Of Love

as you and max celebrate ten years together, take a look at a snapshot of your social media for each one of those years

: ̗̀➛ Summer Break

with three weeks off to enjoy yourselves, you and max make the most of it adventuring together

: ̗̀➛ "Hey Stranger!"

with your conflicting schedules, match day always clashes with race day. it means it’s been a while since you’ve seen max, until you pull a few strings 🥺

: ̗̀➛ Baby Perez Is Mine

after getting to know your brother’s team mate max, you soon find that it’s more than just a friendship that’s struck between the two of you

: ̗̀➛ TEXTS

: ̗̀➛ Pregnant Wife Texts

[natalchartnurtures]

PAC: What Greek Mythology love story would you and your FS be?

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[pile 1 to 3- left to right]

Just came out of a bone-crushing healing and shadow work period for my Kundalini Awakening going on right now T-T In an attempt to raise my spirits, I created my very first FS reading-

pile 1:

General vibe of your love story with your FS-

This is the movie pile. I see a full-blown movie arc in my mind’s eye for your love story with your FS. I see an opening at- you guys meeting, the middle act- your separation and individual trials, and the final act- the happy reunion! OBVIOUSLY, there's nuance to how all of this will unfold for each of y’all reading since it's real life we're talking about, but your story with your FS is the closest thing to a happily-ever-after if I've ever seen one.

It's like when y’all first met, y’all were young, or maybe some of y’all didn't know how to handle a relationship or didn't have the resources in the 3D (think money or a place of your own, something like that) to make this relationship happen? Maybe it was long distance for a looong time? And so, for whatever reason (along said lines) y’all had to let each other go or y’all couldn't be together. It's like y’all were shown a grand possibility to be together, and BOOM it was taken away.

Then you guys enter a separation period right after, and the length of this period will differ for everybody reading, anywhere between months to a couple of years. After having worked HARD on yourselves ON YOUR OWN to overcome your personal issues, traumas, and suffering, you guys come together. The key to really mastering your obstacles is in the day to day. You will have set routines to tackle your obstacles, such as say you’ve got anxiety or a dys-regulated nervous system, so maybe you'll always have a stress relief meditation scheduled in no matter how your day looks. So on and so forth, fill in the details of this period as it best suits your life. But the common denominator, I feel like, is that y’all really fight to be with one another. The love is so deep here, and that's what motivates each of you to overcome your personal hurdles, yk? And THEN, when it happens, and y’all reunite, it's sooo beautiful. It's like you guys will build a brand new life together where you can put the past behind and finally enjoy the fruits of your labor! Also, I see you guys growing and blossoming over time with your FS upon reunion 🥺✨.

So… which Greek myth sums up YOUR love story with your FS the best?

drum roll

It’s the story of Cupid and Psyche!

From what I’ve read about this story, Cupid and Psyche couldn’t immediately be together after they met. Cupid could only meet Psyche at night AND she’s not even allowed to see him! T-T This was part of what Psyche has to overcome- the challenges put forth by Aphrodite just because the goddess was jealous of Psyche. And poor Cupid had self-esteem issues from what I gather lmao. He didn't even feel worthy to show his mortal wife what he REALLY looked like (which, by the way, is GORGEOUS af?! Like who hurt you, Cupid?) They eventually overcome their odds and reunite. Eventually, Jupiter blesses Psyche with immortality, which allows them to live forever in their new life happily ever after. Ahhh… beautiful.

I encourage you to read the original story (or watch it on YT, do whatever you like :p) to pick up on any additional messages! Buuut that’s all I have for you lovely folks today.

Love and loads of light, sweet pea :)

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pile 2:

General vibe of your love story with your FS-

Reeeeally strongly coming in right off the bat, I feel like both you AND your FS will be turning a brand new leaf in your lives. Think a new job for one or both of you. A major relocation for one or both of you. A major relationship ending for one or both of you. You catch the drift, right?

It feels like y’all will be closing out a cycle and entering into a new era, so to speak. And in this new era, I sense that you'll keep mostly to yourself and aren't all that interested in anybody because you're still processing this BIG shift you just went through and you're reflecting a lot, drawing on your wisdom, staying in your lane. Ngl, you do feel vulnerable and raw too, which is probably why you seem to keep to yourself mostly during the time you might run into your FS. I sense the same from their end too.

You know what this is? Mutual healing. Your future spouse finds you at a time when you're in the dead center of healing and vice versa. You will both be the catalysts to each other's healing! How cool is that? And after y’all find stability in your journey together especially after navigating healing for so long… I see y’all being so comfortable and content and peaceful with one another 🥺 this makes my heart full!! Stop it! Ahhhhhh <3 The vibes are immaculate, it's giving 'comrades in the battlefield' kinda energy. Your FS will stick with you no matter what, literally. And that's the kind of loyalty many people only dream about. Love it 🤌🏾. Y’all will love each other's pain away 🥺😩. Ugh my heart can't take it anymore!

So… which Greek myth sums up YOUR love story with your FS the best?

drum roll

It’s the story of Odysseus and Penelope!

Now in the story of Odysseus and Penelope, both of them undergo significant changes and face major disruptions in their lives. Odysseus’s long journey home from the Trojan War and Penelope’s long period of waiting and dealing with suitors at home. BUT even in Odysseus's absence, Penelope remains faithful and focused on her own survival and household. Similarly, Odysseus endures many trials and tribulations. Both characters are found in a state of self-reflection in the face of personal challenges (in my humble opinion of course). Their reunion symbolizes mutual healing… both of our characters here show incredible loyalty and perseverance despite being apart for 20 years!

-Side note: on a completely different note, your story low key kinda reminds me of the story of James and Claire from Outlander >< shoutout to the Outlander fans hehehehe, I'm waiting for the 9th season to come out SO BAD ughhhh lmao-

I encourage you to read the original story (or watch it on YT, do whatever you like :p) to pick up on any additional messages for yourself! Annnnd that’s all I have for you lovely folks today.

Love and loads of light, sweet pea :)

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pile 3:

General vibe of your love story with your FS-

Ah.. my Pile number 3s.. you guys are afraid to love.. aren't you? You might be blocked off from your heart and as a result won’t be open to true reciprocal and healthy love for a WHILE. But then I see that the divine will enter your life in some way and shake you up in a big way to show you how you've been standing in your own way and keeping love at a distance.. I'm seeing the tower card in my third eye as I say this even though it hasn't come out for you today.

Ah, this is like a personal journey I see you taking before your FS comes in and swoops you off your pretty lil feet 🙃 tehe! Your energy seems quite mental to me. You love living in your head, thinking, planning, analyzing, and just knowing things. But this came at the grave cost of not being connected to your heart.. and when the divine intervenes and helps you connect to your heart again is when your FS comes in flying ✨.

Side note: Ooh.. suddenly I hear Lavender Haze by our queen Taylor Swift? Take that only if it resonates for you :]

But yea, I see you struggling and feeling out of control when all of this happens because you're used to being in control of things usually but now all of this has you a bit overwhelmed I'm ngl.. but you end up navigating this perfectly well! Yay! I'm glad haha 😅🫂👏🏾

So… which Greek myth sums up YOUR love story with your FS the best?

drum roll

The story of Pygmalion and Galatea!

Yup, just like how Pygmalion accidentally manifested Galatea, you kinda accidentally manifest your future spouse too (low key reeeal funny ngl). Because Pygmalion refused to love anybody, he sculpted out his perfect woman and fell in love with his creation. His deep affections attract the attention of you guessed it Aphrodite herself, and she decides to ahem intervene. She brings Galatea to life, which represents the transformation of Pygmalion's mental fixation (and emotional disconnection) TO emotional CONNECTION. How perfectly beautiful. Ugh. Love your story, Pile 3. Gosh.. who doesn't love their FS simply falling into their laps? Haha

I encourage you to read the original story (or watch it on YT, do whatever you like :p) to pick up on any additional messages! Soooo that’s all I have for you lovely folks today.

Love and loads of light, sweet pea :)

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[g0r3wh0rre]

hi! i saw that your inbox was open for dark thoughts and idk if you write for enha but…

stalker!sunghoon who had weaseled his way into your life, completely wrapping himself around you and your life like thorns until he’s your number one, your closest friend, the one you share all your secrets too—your best friend. at first he was content with his place in your life until he wanted more. those ex boyfriends of yours who suddenly disappeared, never to be seen again and missing persons cases are still open to this day? all him. any guy that tried to get close to you? now they know better when they’re rotting away in a shallow grave. he doesn’t stopped until your small town has basically shunned you and you have no one to turn to but him, the one who has never left your side—not even once.

and finally you give into him, strip yourself completely bare for him and give him everything he’s ever wanted, and he’s making sure you never show yourself to anyone ever again. he’s fucking you so good and so rough and possessive that your head is in the cloud and so is his… he doesn’t even realize that he’s spilling all of his secrets, his grand master plan to infiltrate every part of your life. and you don’t register is words until it wayyy too late… now you’re stuck with him, the thorn in your side, forever—and he’s never letting you go.

well… what if i told you that i’m open to the idea… (this is probably so terrible i’m so sorry)

NSFW + MDNI! DARK CONTENT WARNING! park sunghoon x fem!reader • stalking, yandere themes, murder mentioned but not explicit, toxic and manipulative behavior, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampies, dirty talk

he does it because he loves you. he does it for your protection.

it plays like a mantra in his head as he disposes another one of your little boyfriends, another man who dared to try and take you away from him. it’s a constant cycle of you getting close to another man, putting yourself in harms way, and sunghoon having to protect you— you make him do this. why can’t you understand that you belong to him? that you don’t need anyone else?

he just wants you all to himself. you’d be so happy, wouldn’t you, being taken care of and showered with love by the only one you adore? he’s almost there, with how all those missing persons cases keep getting tied back to you… nobody in your small town wants anything to do with you anymore, you crying into sunghoon’s shirt about how lonely and betrayed you feel, but don’t you understand that it’s better this way? he’ll keep you safe and protected, he’ll love you better than any other man could ever love… and finally, one night after the stress of losing everyone around you gets to great, you finally fall into sunghoons arms and let him have his way with you. how it should have always been.

your pussy feels to good for him to keep his mouth shut. pounding into your cunt like there’s no tomorrow, the sweat on his brow dripping down onto your pretty, moaning face— doesn’t he make you feel so good? feel so loved and perfect? “you belong to me,” he huffs against the shell of your ear, fat tip of his cock pounding your cervix, “you’ve always belonged to me, nobody else— had to get rid of them, had to show you that you need me.”

his love is overwhelming, clouding your brain with nothing but ecstasy and pleasure; you can’t focus on a single word he says, not as he digs bruises into the meat of your thighs when he hikes your legs over his shoulders to fuck inside of you deeper, not when his kisses against your neck and shoulders leaves your skin feeling like it’s on fire. “you’re mine, forever, i’m never going to let you go… you don’t want me to have to make you stay, do you?”