#maxima x reader

[fandomnerd9602]

Maxima from superman TAs x male reader

Maxima: I have sought out the fiercest warrior for my husband

Superman: and you chose Y/N because…

Maxima looks to Y/N who’s sticking to her side…

Maxima: the strongest warrior needs not to raise their weapons. Also he respects me, loves me and is a great cuddler. A queen cannot be a warrior 24/7

Superman: well congrats on the happy union.

[in1-nutshell]

SINCR YOU WATCHED TRANSFORMERS ONE

Can you do if Maxima was in Transformers one as well? SINCE SHE WOULD STILL BE A CHILD FROM IT (and plus, i wanna see her reaction on one scene particular)

One of the first Buddy's I thought about when I finished watching the movie.

Hope you enjoy!

TF1 Version of Maxima

SFW, Angst, Familial, Cybertronian reader

TF1

Orion found her in one of the carts filled with raw energon.

He thought he was hallucinating from lack of sleep before D-16 also saw the sparkling heading straight for the crusher.

Both mechs hurriedly got the sparkling before the crusher got her.

It was extremely rare to see sparklings this small in Iacon, most bots were created and built in larger sizes, especially those with T-cogs.

D-16 thought it was a good idea to bring the sparkling to the guards or a supervisor.

D-16: “C’mon Pax, let’s see if the guards are in a good mood and—Orion?” Orion was just staring into the sparkling big blue optics. D-16: “Orion?” Orion holds the sparkling close to his chassis. Orion: “D, how about we… you know…” D-16: “Oh no, no, no, no. Orion we can’t take care of a sparkling. You can barely take care of yourself!” Orion looks at his friend, then the sparkling. He passes the sparkling into his servos. D-16 catches the sparkling. D-16: “Hey!” Orion: “I guess your right. We can always go see which guard won’t punch us into oblivion and take the sparkling somewhere… where we’ll never see her again… ever…” D-16 looked a bit conflicted as the sparkling looked at him. With her big blue optics. …No, he had to stay strong… The sparkling gently patted his faceplate, smiled and giggled. D-16: “…You win this round Pax.” Orion: “Good!” Orion goes to grab the sparkling put D-16 reflexively moves out of his reach, surprising them both. D-16 coughs before handing the sparkling back to Orion, looking at the ground embarrassed. Orion just smirks at his friend. Orion: “Looks like we all got attached, huh?” D-16 nudges his shoulder. D-16: “Yeah… guess we did.”

The easiest part was hiding the little thing.

New spread around that a sparkling was in the mines and the miners had sworn an oath not to let the guards know she was there.

At least until she was older to work with the rest of them.

Orion and D-16 where surprised to see how many bots wanted to keep this a secret.

Even Elita-One didn’t want the guards to know about her.

She said it was because the sparkling boosted morale.

This was also the same bot caught cooing at the sparkling in between breaks.

It’s a miracle that none of the guard’s suspect anything.

Jazz looks around the corner. Jazz: “Darkwing’s coming!” Wheeljack: “Hide!” Orion quickly put the sparkling under a crate and sat on it. Darkwing passed by the corridors, looked around before continuing walking. Orion waited a few more seconds before venting out. D-16 quickly pushed him out and goes to lift the crate. Orion: “Ow!” D-16: “No, you don’t get to say that. You literally sat on her!” The sparkling looked up as the miner’s lifted the crate and smiled up at him. D-16 and Orion sighed in relief. Orion turned to Jazz and Wheeljack. Orion: “Thanks guys.” Wheeljack just waved. Jazz: “Anything for mini-Pax, Pax.”

The sparkling was very attached to Orion and D-16.

It’s almost always constant smiles and laughs.

D-16 tries to be the voice of reason for them.

He hopes that it rubs off on the sparkling.

It does… but not the amount he was hoping for because that sparkling might as well have been a mini-Pax.

But it was D-16 that gave the sparkling her name.

D-16 was looking at a list of names. The sparkling sat on a crate while looking at him curiously. D-16: “Let’s find you a name. there is no way I’m calling you mini-Pax any more… Let’s see here… Lithia?” The sparkling shook her helm. D-16: “Hmm… how about Andromeda? Rapidfire? Nova?” The sparkling shook her helm at each name. D-16 sighed. D-16: “…Maxima?” The sparkling perked up. D-16: “Maxima? That’s the name you want?” The sparkling smiled and raised her servos up wanting to get picked up. D-16 smiled and picked up the sparkling. D-16: “Guess its Maxima then huh.” Maxima: “D…” D-16 paused. D-16: “What?” Maxima smiled and giggled. Maxima: “D! D! D!” D-16 laughed out loudly while twirling around with Maxima giggling into his chassis. Orion turned the corner, a bit winded from his run in with Darkwing. Orion: “What’s going on? I hear laughing.” Maxima smile grew even bigger seeing Orion. D-16 passed her into Orion’s arms. D-16: “Found a name for her. Maxima!” The sparkling turned her helm at him and laughed. Orion’s optics widened a bit but smiled. Orion: “Guess the other names didn’t work?” D-16: “Was going to try Ophelia, but it didn’t sound right. Annnddd, guess who said who’s name first? Mine!” Maxima: “D! Pax!” Both mechs stopped. D-16: “She didn’t say Pax when I was here.” Orion just looked at her with love and adoration. Orion: “You did good D, thanks.” D-16 slug an arm around Pax. D-16: “Anytime.”

Orion let that be her name, mainly because he felt like he owed his friend for all the scrap he put him through with trying to find information on the matrix of leadership.

As the years go by, Maxima ends up working as one of the miners.

She happily working with everyone.

The Guards are a bit confused where this bot came from, but they don’t question it.

Orion and D-16 worry a bit for Maxima’s growth, especially since she didn’t have a T-cog like them and being smaller than the average bot in the mines.

Maxima, like Orion, loved to go out of the mines and find adventure.

She has a nasty habit of jumping roof tops and scaling buildings.

Good for sneaking around.

But she does draw a line with some of the sneaking around with Orion.

Maxima loved hanging around with D-16.

He was a stable anchor she latched on when she bit off a bit more than she could intake.

She loves jumping on his back as he ‘reluctantly’ carries her.

Overhears about Orion and D-16 going to the race, that gets shut down by D-16.

She ends up joining some other bots in the crowd when she spots her fathers in the race.

The loudest in cheering for them.

Winces hard when they don’t make it.

Tries to get to the mines again when she spots Darkwing throwing them somewhere and not returning with them.

She goes to investigate.

Maxima: “AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!” CRASH! THUD! Maxima landed on the hard ground after bouncing off the conveyor belt. She looks up to see a yellow mech, a happy Orion, and a concern D-16. D-16 and Orion: “Maxima!” Both the mechs help her up as she dusts some scrap from her frame. D-16: “Are you hurt?” D-16 raises her arms to look for any injury. Orion takes both of her shoulders and looks at her with D-16’s concern. Orion: “What are you doing down here? Did you really just take the trash shoot down here?” Maxima gets out of the mech’s grip. Maxima: “Of course I did. I saw Darkwing leave without you guys and the only shoot that goes down was the trash shoot.” D-16 pinches the ridge of his nose: “So you decided that it was a smart idea to go inside it?” Maxima: “… In my defense I was left unsupervised.” B-127: “Hi!” Maxima looks over at the yellow mech and waves back. Maxima: “I’m Maxima!” B-127: “I’m B-127! But Some bots call me B.” Maxima and B-127 start chatting up a storm. D-16 and Orion could only understand a handful of the words coming out of the pairs mouths the faster they talked. Orion: “Umm… at least she’s making friends around her age?” D-16: “…I don’t like this…”

Maxima ends up tagging along with the group to find the Matrix of Leadership.

Grabs D-16’s back the entire train ride.

She was not about to get crushed by a crate bigger than her before reaching the Matrix.

Is bouncing on her pedes seeing the surface, excitably hugging Orion and D-16.

D-16 looking at the growing mountains. D-16: “Is that getting bigger?” Orion: “I think it’s getting closer…” Maxima and B-127 immediately take off, the others following. The train start shaking and jumping. Maxima tries grabbing onto the railing, but it slips her grasp. Maxima: “Orion!” Orion immediately let go of D-16 grasp and used his other servo to grab her servo. Orion: “Don’t let go!” Maxima: “What does it look like I’m doing?!”

Orion and D-16 help her up when they wake up.

Now they were following the map to the location of the Matrix.

Maxima is just happy to do something other than mining for once.

Happiness that doesn’t last seeing the Quintesson ship.

Holds on to Elita and D-16’s servos tightly seeing Orion and Bee almost getting caught.

Meeting Alpha Trion and finding out what happened to the other Prime’s...

What Sentinel is doing with the Quintesson’s…

Feels almost as angry as D-16 but does notice the shift and gets worried.

Tries to tell Orion but he brushes it off.

Everyone gets their T-Cog’s.

Orion, D-16, B-127, and Elita-One look over at each other’s new frames. B-127: “This is awesome! Hey Maximaa—AAAHHH! Holy Primus you’re huge!” The bots look over at Maxima and have to do a double take. Maxima, once the shortest member of their little group was now the biggest and tallest one. Probably as big as Sentinel Prime! D-16: “Maxima… you look…” Maxima looked worried. Maxima: “What?” Orion smiles. Orion: “You look good… though you could have been smaller.” Maxima laughs at the comment as she tries and carries D-16 and Orion in her arms. Success! D-16: “Maxima! Put us down!” Maxima smirks and brings them into a tight hug.

Timeskip to the High Guard.

Maxima is fangirling with B-127 when she sees the Guard.

Gets a bad feeling when D-16 tries to leave and fights Starscream.

Yells for D-16 to stop while Orion holds her back as the crowd pushes them back.

Shakes a bit when she sees D-16 new canon, sharing the same concern look on Orion’s face.

Then Arachnid and Sentinel’s Elite Guard show up.

Maxima gets captured along with D-16 and B-127.

In the room with Sentinel, Maxima shares worried looks with B-127 and D-16.

Stares at D-16 when he refuses to kneel to Sentinel.

He goes to hit him, but Maxima also stands up and kicks him in the back of the knee before standing in front of D-16, trying to use her larger frame to shield him from the Prime’s view.

Maxima looks at the Prime with hatred. Sentinel: “Well look who decided to play hero.” Maxima: “You’re not going to hurt them as long as I function Prime.” Sentinel smirks at her. Sentinel: “I can fix that.” D-16’s optics widen as Sentinel suddenly grabbed Maxim’s throat and slammed her to the ground. The Prime punched, kicked and hit the younger bot senselessly. D-16 tried to get up but was held down by some guard bots. D-16: “Stop! Stop it! Do it to me! Leave her out of this! Prime!” Sentinel finally stops and grabs Maxima by the throat again. Sentinel: “You had enough, or are you going to make me dirty my servos more?” Maxima weakly lifts her helm. Briefly glances at D-16 and B-127. She looks back at the Prime with a glare and spits energon on his face. Maxima: “No wonder… the Matrix didn’t choose you… what a joke…” Sentinel gave her an angry look before tossing her to the wall. Maxima heard d-16 yell for her before she blacked out.

In comes Orion.

As Orion helps D-16, he quickly pulls him to the wall where B-127 was trying to get the rubble off Maxima.

Orion cradles his barely conscious kid’s helm.

All she can do is smile painfully.

Thankfully she could walk and transform.

Orion tells her to follow him.

She doesn’t want to.

She wants to stay with D-16.

Something was going to happen.

Orion doesn’t let her as she begrudgingly follows.

She gives one last look at D-16 before following Orion.

She ends up taking a detour when she spots D-16 and Sentinel fighting in the square.

She immediately goes over with Orion.

As much as she hates the Prime, she would be no better than he is if they just terminated him like that.

Justice needed to be served.

Then it happens.

D-16 shoots Orion.

Maxima: “ORION!” Maxima screams as she dives in after him. Her doesn’t reach him as she also ends up falling. Both their descents stop when D-16 ends up grabbing both with separate servos. Maxima looks up. Maxima: “D!” D-16 was struggling to keep both from falling. Maxima looked over at Orion. He was hurt badly. Maxima: “D, help him! Let me go!” Orion and D-16: “What?!” Maxima was close to crying now. Maxima: “Orion needs help D! Please! Let me go! You can’t get both of us up! Save him!” Orion tries to reassure her that he will be okay, but he doesn’t even believe it. Maxima’s energon runs cold when she sees D-16 with red optics. D-16: “I’m done saving you.” Her optics widen as D-16 let go of Orion’s servo. Maxima: “ORION!” She tried to reach out but was swiftly pulled upward and skidded on the surface. The larger bot tried to go back to the ledge but was stopped by a swift kick to the chassis by D-16.

Maxima tried to stop him, but she was too late and witnessed D-16 tear Sentinel in half.

She stared in shock as D-16 pulled out Sentinel’s T-cog and placed in him.

She could only stare as he gave his speech.

As he proclaimed himself as Megatron.

That was when rage took over.

She ran at him trying to stop him with the help from Elita and B-127.

Megatron quickly got rid of the smaller bots but seemed to have a bit of trouble with Maxima.

Something she noticed quickly that he was taller than her once again.

He told her to stay out of his way.

Then came Optimus Prime.

Maxima was dragged back by Elita as she saw the two mech’s fight.

She could only watch the fight go down and watch Megatron get banished with the rest of the high guard.

He didn’t even look back.

Maxima could barely move seeing the new Prime.

She was rooted in her place until Optimus came up to her.

Maxima offered a tight smile as he patted her shoulders.

Optimus was taller than her now…

He opens the Matrix and letting the energon flow once again.

Maxima managed to keep everything composed until she was alone.

She sunk to her knees and sobbed and sobbed.

She had lost her entire family in less than two days.

She had lost D-16 to Megatron, and she had lost Orion Pax to Optimus Prime.

She was alone again…

Maxima didn’t notice someone entering the room and sitting beside her. She looked to see Optimus’s chassis right there. Optimus: “I know with everything I might look different… I feel different. But I’m still the same bot inside. The same bot who helped pick out your name.” Maxima: “… D was the one who found it.” Optimus chuckled somberly. Optimus: “But I got around the ‘mini-Pax’ name.” Maxima laughed a bit at the old name before feeling a pang of hurt. Optimus looked at her concern. Optimus: “Maxima?” Maxima quickly turned to him and buried her face in his neckcables while hugging him tightly and sobbing. Optimus just held her while some tears of his own spilled out. Optimus: “I’m here Maxima… I’m here…” She could feel the Prime’s tears on her helm, but she didn’t care. Right now, it was time to mourn for her fallen family. Megatron at the same time was also in his room sobbing that his family was no more. And that there would be little to no chance to see Maxima, ever again… unless...

[supercap2319]

Y/N grunts as he gets out of the ruin remains of his flipped over car. He had a gash on his forehead, and he struggled not to cut himself on the broken window glass. Some red-headed chick with a bad attitude flipped his car over like it was made of paper. Y/N's not sure how he survived with so much as a scratch on him, but he's thankful for it.

The woman looked at him. " I couldn't kill you in front of him.  But now that you're alone, I'll make sure you never take him away."

"Who... Mr. Kent? Look, I don't know who or what you are, but you got it all wrong, lady. There is nothing romantic between me and Clark." Y/N said.

"You have a deep connection to him. I felt it."

"Then you're out of your mind. He likes Ms. Lane. Not me." Y/N protested from the safety of his ruined seat.

"Deny it all you wish, I know love when I see it. He would never have been able to pull away from me if he wasn't drawn by his attraction to you." The red-headed lady told Y/N as she drew closer to him.

"Look.... he's straight. He likes women. You're wrong."

"Oh, he may not know it yet. But believe me ... there's a bond. And I could see it on your face when you caught us together. You feel it, too. But I finally found the man that I've wanted all my life, and you can't have him."

"You're fucking crazy!" Y/N said.

In the blink of an eye, she was on Y/N, hand around his throat as she lifted him into the air and started to choke him as he struggled to get away.

Just before Y/N blacked out, Superman came fly down behind them. "Let go of him, now!"

[out101]

Chainsawan Yandere Prompt “Fear the Fear”

You were once a citizen, or were you always been, just you. They call you the one, demon birth from your existence, you believe them, it hard not to when your life in on the line. You were obligated to those rule embedded who have you life. You were nothing ordinary, at least that’s what you tell yourself too. You see many of those before and after, those who were innocent until the gun genocide. You were there when many put their life inservice of demon killer, oh think, in the name of vengeance or in the name to move on, I think that’s what love does to you.

You were there when your last partner died, again.

Blood sprinkle around the cotton snow, you wish it purity can just make this moment just comforting. You seen snow, you hoped it was different circumstances, you wanted hold it, even eat it - they say they can make snow cone out of it; it would have sound sweet.

You eye blank, unfocused; seeing your mutalated partner, their face is intact, thankfully, you can see the familiarity from their past transformation. The amount of blood they loses doesn’t faze you. You see them in action, you were entrust with their survival, with your blood you create Gods within the battlefied; and yet…you didn’t hold out the warm liquid leaving from the little cut of the demon attack. They were a formidable foe yet your partner ‘honorable’ as ever leave you in the dark to let them in action.

Laying their like a rag doll, their limb shaking reach out, without hesitation hold them as tender as you observe from human mutual relationship you seen from the past, they were nice - gentle as they might they always bring a person smile on the face; uncommon from here you from. They flinch from the open wound continue to coat the snow in red.

A puff cough from them, and another, their eye slowly fading in life looking at you with that smile. You wonder why waste energy for such expression, you reflected back not wanting to make the energy to waste. The snow make your face feels funny.

“Cough, it nice…I feel like i can sleep again…I wish i can bring you in with me…they wouldn’t like it. Can you-can you bury me here, i just wanted this poor excuse of body to just…normal, i wanted it normal. Can you do that for me, Y/N”

That’s what your partner like to call you, cheeky in human term. You nodded, while you had many partner, they were more enjoyable than the rest, at least they give you space, enough normality.

Honk distance dead tree spikes around, some were broken from the fight, a red-pingtail, yellow wild eye circle around. With a smile that seem permanent. A black car ready, you walk, more blood drip from your hand, some smear across your once clean face.

“Out of control again Fear? This might go on a record, we can give you proper food all you need to do was ask. I’ll let this one slide of, if you willingly make contract with me”. Her voice allure you, you know that and you did, what you had to do.

You shook your head.

Her smile edge twitch for a sec. Her eyes never leaving your ghostly one.

You felt the blood dry from the snow, at the distance a lump of snow, building a small hill, with the full remaining of a warrior on this nightmares world.

You can’t die, you can never truly die, that’s what scare you.

[missadangel]

⊱ AMOR MEUS AETERNUS ⊰

(Marcus Acacius x Ofc)

III. Amor Primus

prev chapter series masterlist next chapter

Chapter Summary:  You realize that Marcus is more than just a brutal man, and it's hard to ignore your anger over his push for marriage. Julius reveals Marcus's past, while Marcus finds something in your room that will change everything. Chapter W. Count and warnings: 12k; angst, brothels, sex workers, romantic comedy, ancient rome, using drugs (tranquilizer), anxiety attacks, violence, power imbalance, mention about marriage, periods. authors note: Vestalis Maxima: The Chief Vestal of vestal virgins. Pilus Prior: A centurion in command of the first century of a cohort, making him the senior centurion of the cohort. Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Ofc!Reader (Her name is Rose, and her hair is dyed) Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI, Smut General Warnings: Harsh, cold, grumpy Marcus, and the reader is NOT innocent a little bitchy, Lucilla is mean, Lucius is a jerk(but falls in love with reader), its Septimius Severus' era but Geta and Caracalla are the prince of Rome, time travel, modern-ancient era travels, falling in love, slow burn, rough sex, smut, sex, oral sex (both f&m receiving), all sex, dirty talk, gladiators, battle, war, violence, blood, ancient time language, fluffy, injury, forced marriage, arranged marriage, sexism, haters to lovers, first love, angst, vestal virgins, vestal priestesses, age gap; reader is 25 Marcus is 42, reincarnation my masterlist

...Chapter Theme...

Soft wedding music played in the background, blending with whispers and laughs all around. Everything was white—white flowers, white decorations, and even the guests were decked out in white. The priest at the front looked like a vision in his white robe, but honestly, it felt a bit much.

Way too much white.

So fucking white.

Standing at the altar, your heart raced, but something felt completely off.

“Here comes the groom,” came the voice, breaking the awkward silence.

Wait, what?

Shouldn’t the bride walk in after the groom?

What kind of shit was this?

Glancing back, you felt your heart drop—there was nobody coming. You squinted, searching the crowd until you finally spotted your sister, your relatives, even your aunt, who had been MIA for years.

This was your wedding day; it felt like a twisted replay of the day you got ditched at the altar.

Suddenly, someone stood up and chuckled, “Looks like the groom isn’t coming!” Laughter rippled through the crowd, and you felt heat rise to your cheeks.

What’s so funny?

In a fit of frustration, you threw back your veil and shouted, “Who wants to get married anyway?”

The priest, looking annoyingly calm, responded, “Now, now, dear. We’ve found you another groom.”

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. “Father, have you been drinking before the wedding?” 

“Jesus Christ! You can’t talk to the priest like that!” your aunt barked.

Oh, right, she was a devout woman.

The music kicked back in, and everyone shuffled back to their seats. “Here’s the groom!” someone announced again.

You turned around and felt your jaw drop. It was him—the psycho in armor, sword at his side, walking toward you with a serious look that sent chills down your spine. You stepped back, hiding behind the priest. “Please, Father! I can’t marry this guy. He’s rude and brutal, with a fierce temper—not exactly husband material."

“This is what the heavens have decreed, my child,” the priest said without an ounce of empathy.

“Heavens? Really? Can we go over this one more time?”

The priest frowned. “You are going to marry this man.”

The armored man -Marcus- reached for you, extending his hand while keeping a stoic expression.

Just perfect—this was who you were supposed to marry?

Then, out of nowhere, a psychic woman appeared, her tarot cards clinking together as she flashed a grin. “See? I told you this was the one!”

What the fuck?

If this was a dream, it was so ridiculous that it barely made any sense.

"If you don't marry me, I'll cut down all of them," Marcus said in a cold tone.

Instead of panicking, the crowd erupted in applause. "Marry him, marry him!"

Seriously?

Marcus angrily sheathed his sword, grabbed one of the guests, and you screamed.

"NO!"

You jolted awake, your heart racing, drenched in sweat. As reality sank in, laughter bubbled up nervously from your throat. “Thank goodness it was just a dream. Man, what a dream…”

But as you took in your surroundings—the wooden furniture, the table against the wall topped with a jug, the flickering oil lamp casting shadows, the rough animal skin sprawled across the floor, the long, heavy curtains, and that Roman lectus where you had been lying—the laughter faded.

A familiar wave of anxiety crashed over you again.

The last thing that stuck in your mind was, “I will petition the Emperor for special permission to grant her conubium.”

Damn conubium.

You ran your fingers through your messy hair, panic rising.

Congrats on your anxiety attack.

“No, no, no. I can’t do this. Why, God? Why?” You struggled against the sheets, frustration boiling inside you until suddenly, you lost your balance and tumbled off the bed, landing unceremoniously on your backside. Wincing, you rubbed your aching butt and glanced up at the intricate mosaic paintings on the wall. “I hate ancient Rome,” you sobbed.

Crawling across the floor, you made your way to the chair to reach for your bag and pulled out your dwindling supply of pills. You popped one into your mouth, feeling a wave of worry about the decreasing number. What would you do when they ran out?

You should go back, you should go back now.

The thought of that glowing portal or a riff whatever it was, a possible path, an exit from this maddening reality, filled you with longing.

You had to do something, you had to give it a shot.

You were desperate.

“What? He’s going to marry me? Ha. Good luck with that,” you muttered to yourself. 

With a determined huff, you flung your bag over your shoulder and glanced around the room  that had been prepared for you. Larger than the previous one, maybe—sure—but nothing could compare to the your own room back home.

You had to get out.

You peeked out into the big corridor and saw no one around. Just a few slaves who were too busy to notice you. Scanning the courtyard to figure out your escape route, you felt hopeful. Once you made it outside, no one would come after you. With a quick glance around, you descended the stairs, heart pounding with a blend of fear and exhilaration.

When two girls approached, you ducked behind the fountain, holding your breath until they passed. A triumphant smile crept onto your face as you continued toward the exit. You had done it—you were finally breaking free from this suffocating prison.

“Just a few more steps, Rose. You’ve got this,” you mumbled to yourself, feeling your heart race. As soon as you slipped out of the courtyard, you spotted two soldiers in shiny armor you’d never seen before. Luckily, they were facing away from you, deep in conversation. You crouched down and made your way along the wall, focusing on the ground instead of looking up.

Please don’t let them see me.

Please.

Your awkward shoes hampered your movement, but you pressed on, determined. Just when you dared to glance back, your heart nearly stopped—were they actually looking your way?

You picked up your pace, only to collide suddenly with something solid.

"Ow!" Rubbing your head from the impact, your eyes drifted down to two sandaled feet before rising up to meet the piercing gaze of a man clad in black armor, chest was adorned with a striking embossed design of a golden medusa, right where you had been hit on the head.

Damn.

It was him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

You widened your eyes, feigning innocence as you batted your eyelashes, quickly regaining your composure. “I just needed some fresh air."

With unwavering intensity, Marcus shifted his attention to the two soldiers beside him. “You two, get over here at once.”

“General,” they stammered, fear evident in their voices.

“This woman just wandered out here, and you didn’t even notice? Is this how you conduct your watch?”

"Forgive us, sir."

"We made a mistake."

You took a step backwards. “You guys keep talking. I’m going for a walk.”

But before you could turn away, he seized your arm firmly. “Let go of me!” you exclaimed, pulling against his grip.

“You are not permitted to go outside at this time.”

"I can go wherever I want! Just let me leave!"

His demeanor shifted slightly, and he continued in a more measured tone, “I understand that what you heard earlier was astonishing. Allow me to clarify.”

"Let go of me now, or I'll hit you with my bag," you shouted, tugging at his arm in a desperate struggle. "Let go! Let go! Let go!"

With an exasperated sigh, he finally released you, but not before you stumbled backward and crashed to the floor, a cloud of dust rising around you. The shock of the fall gripped you both—caught off guard by the awkard situation.

The soldiers shot each other looks, trying hard not to burst out laughing.

With a sharp glare from Marcus, they quickly averted their eyes, bowed their heads, and stepped away.

As you struggled to regain your composure, humiliation flooded over you. Marcus stifled a laugh, clearly trying to suppress the amusement dancing in his eyes. He didn’t even bother to help you up, leaving you to dust off your clothes.

You glared at him. “Why did you just let go of my arm like that?”

“You insisted.”

You muttered as you cleaned up your clothes. "Whoa. I can't believe it. You're unbelievable, you know that?" Then, as you walked forward, soldiers crossed in front of you.

You've turned into Marcus.

"I said you can't leave, not in the daytime at least.”

In a fit of frustration, you hurled your bag at the soldiers, landing a glancing blow. “Get out of the way! Now!” They exchanged bewildered looks, their confusion directed at Marcus.

"Please stop," Marcus said firmly as he moved closer. "Can you not follow my instructions? I don't understand why you're acting this way."

You let out a hysterical laugh. "Seriously? Why am I acting this way? Is that what you're asking right now? You're the one who forced me to come here, remember? I was living an ordinary yet happy life. I finally landed a job as an assistant designer on a film set, which meant I could earn the money I needed to cover rent and bills. Maybe my sister wouldn't even have to work over the summer to pay for school. But now, because of you, I've probably lost that job, and I don't even know if I will ever see my sister again. This is incredibly tough, and you’re making me feel trapped. So, are you still wondering why I'm like this?" Tears streamed down your face as you finished speaking.

Although he didn’t understand every word, Marcus grasped the main idea. "I promise I’ll ensure your return."

"Then let me go! I can't stay here any longer. If I go there and read those words again—"

"We'll go at night."

"But we've never tried in the morning. Maybe that would work."

"During daylight hours, the temple is frequented by citizens, including priests engaged in prayer and sacrificial rites. We’ll head out as darkness descends. After all, tonight’s moonlight will be minimal."

"But-" That's when the realization hit you.

Moonlight.

Moon.

Full Moon.

“Shit. Fuck.”

Marcus shot you a disapproving look. “Remember what I said about the swearing.”

You barely registered his words, your mind racing with countless possibilities. “Moon,” you blurted out, “There was a lunar eclipse that night!”

“Ec-lipse?” He looked confused.

You sighed. “An eclipse is when the Earth’s shadow falls on the moon, okay? It happens twice a year… Wait a minute.” You froze, a thought hitting you.

"The moon was temporarily darkened by a shadow... Indeed, I had the chance to observe that night."

“No, that can’t be,” you said, feeling the panic rise.

“What's wrong?”

“The next eclipse won’t be for another six months!” you exclaimed, dread sinking in. “I can’t stay here that long!”

“Calm yourself. We don’t have confirmation on that yet. You could be mistaken.”

Your hands shook as the reality of your situation hit you. How could you survive another six months in here? “I can’t, I just can’t,” you muttered, shaking your head.

“Why don’t you come inside and take a seat for a moment? You don't look well,” Marcus suggested, guiding you toward the courtyard.

“I can’t,” you kept whispering, feeling your grip on sanity slipping. He helped you onto the lectus, and your stomach twisted painfully. Desperation clawed at you as you fished out a pill from your bag, your hands trembling as you quickly swallowed it. “Water!” he called out to slaves. “You seem to be taking that medicine quite often,” he remarked, a hint of concern in his voice.

You swallowed hard as you took the cup of water from the tray that a slave had brought you. “It’s either this, or I lose my mind. You really want to see that?” You downed some water, trying to steady your nerves.

“You’re not exactly a sane woman normally, though,” he muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” he replied quickly. “About that other matter…”

Before he could finish, your stomach growled loudly, twisting painfully. “Taking the pill on an empty stomach wasn’t the best idea,” you groaned.

“You there!” Marcus called to the slaves once more. “Bring us something to eat.”

You looked over at the slaves who were rushing off. “It was a nice move Mr General. But what if that woman—your stepmother—hates me and sees me here eating? I bet she won’t be cool with me sitting in her spot.”

“She’s not in the villa at the moment,” he said, unbuckling the scabbard from his belt and leaning it casually against the wall. "You can rest assured that her attitude will get better towards you from now on."

“That doesn’t exactly ease my mind, especially after your nonsense from yesterday,” you hissed.

“Nonsense? Is that what you call it?”

“Yes, exactly that,” you retorted, rolling your eyes.

“Do you really think I want to marry a woman like you? I made a promise, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it.”

“There has to be another way, you know.”

“If you want to stay in this villa, there isn’t. In your time—you told me I must have my..." he tried to remember that word. "ID. Without Roman citizenship, living here could be brutal for you. You would be treated as if you were nothing more than a slave."

You rummaged through your bag and pulled out your ID. “Check this out! It reads, Repubblica Italiana. It clearly states I am an Italian citizen, residing in Rome."

As a slave approached with a tray, Marcus quickly grabbed your hand, saying, “Put that away. It’s worthless here. This isn’t ‘that Rome,’ obviously.”

The girl set the tray down in front of you, and your stomach growled louder. Without thinking, you picked up a strange fork and dug into the food, not even caring that it was hot.

“Easy,” Marcus cautioned, frowning.

“Look, I get it, but are you saying I have no choice but marry to become a citizen here?” you asked through mouthfuls.

“No, it doesn't work that way for most people. You need special permission for conubium.”

“Please don't say that word,” you grumbled, sounding a bit rude with your mouth full, but the hunger was overwhelming.

"Do you even chew? You'll choke if you don't eat slowly," he scolded.

At that moment, Julius entered the courtyard and greeted his brother.

“Hey Julius,” you called out, waving. He smiled and approached you, but his gaze was fixed on Marcus. "I visited the House of the Vestals as you asked, brother."

Without glancing up, Marcus poured wine into a goblet on the tray. “And?”

“The Vestalis Maxima is willing to speak to the emperor about the conubium permit. But there’s something she needs... clarified,” Julius whispered, leaning in closely. Whatever he shared seemed to darken Marcus’s expression; soon, both brothers turned their gazes toward you.

You swallowed the morsel you were chewing and asked, “What?”

“By any chance, have you ever been married before?” Marcus questioned.

You shot him a glare. “No, but why do you want to know that?”

“What we’re really trying to figure out is whether you’re untouched,” Julius explained, leveling a serious look at you.

You blinked, taken aback. “Are you... Are you two seriously asking if I’m a virgin?”

They remained expressionless, clearly waiting for your response.

Your cheeks were all flushed. "Ugh, you guys are really crossing the line. What kind of vulgarity is this?"

“Are you not?” Marcus asked sternly, disappointment lacing his tone.

What the hell?

You shrugged, trying to brush it off. “I refuse to answer such a bigoted question.”

“If we say she’s a widow..." Julius suggested.

Marcus stood up, visibly frustrated. “That won’t do.”

“Then?"

“I will speak to him myself,” Marcus asserted, his determination and unease evident. He reached for the scabbard attached to his belt. With a purposeful turn, he strode away.

“What just happened? Why is he so angry?” you asked to Julius.

Julius sighed as he settled down opposite you. “It would be easier to obtain citizenship if the Vestalis Maxima would vouch for you.”

“I don’t see how being a virgin is relevant,” you said, confusion coloring your voice.

"My brother has never been married, nor is he a widower, and he carries significant importance. The emperor has presented him with many suitors, but he has turned down every one of them. Now, he requires the support of The Vestalis Maxima to approach the emperor regarding this union. Do you understand the authority of the Vestals?"

“I must admit, my historical knowledge isn’t very deep in that regard.”

“They’re extremely important to Rome, but it comes with a heavy burden. Anyway, the Vestalis Maxima knows my brother, their relationship is steeped in a complex history... My brother seeking to harness her formidable influence to secure a conubium, this union. However, her support will only be granted if the young woman he intends to marry maintains her purity. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“And now Marcus is going to talk the emperor himself?” you asked.

He nodded. “I suppose so.”

“Julius!” Marcus called out, and Julius stood immediately. “Yes, brother.”

Your jaw dropped as you took in Marcus for the first time in something other than armor—he wore a white tunic, with a golden embroidered belt around his waist and a red shawl draped over his broad shoulders.

Wow.

He looked incredibly attractive.

If you weren't so angry with him, you would be melted by the sight of him.

But no.

You were very angry with him, seething even.

You looked down at the wine in your hand. At least there was one good thing about ancient Rome: the wine was absolutely delicious and fruity, almost like juice rather than an alcoholic beverage. You had nearly finished the decanter on your own and even sipped from Marcus's half-finished goblet after he left the courtyard.

Julius returned to your side, deep in thought.

“Where did he go?” 

“In his honor, chariot races are taking place at the Circus Maximus, and the emperor along with many others will be in attendance,”

"In his honor?" 

"He didn't mention previously? My brother Marcus has recently returned from the war."

“The war,” you said, suddenly realizing he was a general indeed. The image of him fighting in the chaos of battle hit you hard—blood, shouting, people scrambling, arrows flying, and the reality of death. This wasn’t a movie or a TV show; it was all too real.

You shuddered at the thought.

How could anyone endure that? 

“Why didn’t you go?” you asked, trying to change the subject. 

“To war?” he replied, surprised. "I am Pilus Prior, entrusted with the responsibility of the barracks while my commander is away. It has been two long years since my last campaign. Marcus was initially reluctant to let me join this time; his own eagerness surged like a restless tide, driving him to pursue the glory he so desperately craved. As a result, he has rightfully earned the title of General of Rome."

"That's not what I meant. I was going to ask why you didn’t go to Circus Maximus to watch the races. But wait... Did he go to war just to become a general? Is that why he was so eager?" you asked casually, not wanting to dwell on the topic.

“No, never. He’s simply a soldier... ready to fight.” There was a weight in his tone that caught your attention.

"Isn’t every soldier ready to fight?"

“No one is as willing as he is, believe me. He’s very willing to die.”

You nearly choked on your wine as you processed his words. “What do you mean? Why would he want to die?”

"Never mind," he said trying to close the subject. "To answer your question, I did not attend watching the races, as my duty is to remain here with you."

"Let me guess: your brother asked you to do that, didn't he?"

"Correct," he said shyly.

At least his mother and sister won't arrive until nightfall. That was somewhat of a relief. You pulled out your phone, needing to check the lunar calendar. Julius’s eyes widened as soon as you took it out. "What is this thing?" 

Oh, poor guy, he had no idea. 

"This is a phone. Let's see... You can access some information on it, but without Wi-Fi, it’s limited to contacts and other offline apps. Let me check the date of the next lunar eclipse and the full moon." 

He frowned. "I only caught the word ‘moon.’ Everything else you said sounded like a foreign language."

"I don’t blame you. After all, you’re looking at a device invented thousands of years in the future." 

He pointed at the phone, curiously observing the picture.

"Oh, that’s me and my sister; I set it as my wallpaper." 

"Your sister is as beautiful as you are." 

"Thanks," you said quietly, glancing at Lizze’s smiling face in the photo. You really missed her a lot. It was a struggle not to start crying, but the pill had numbed your feelings, keeping everything light and manageable. "Check it out, when I tap here, the calendar app pops up..."

"The letters here is very different." 

"That's English," you said with a chuckle. "Never mind, it would take too long to explain. We use this language. The numbers are slightly different from yours, but we still use Roman numerals for other cases. Look, it says the next full moon is in 20 days. I hope I’ll be back before then.” 

"What do those signs mean?" 

The red droplets signified the start of your period. 

"Oh no. It shows today." 

"Today?" 

"I think today is Thursday or Friday, but time flows differently here, and the days seem to drag on. I need to jot this down. My phone’s at 56% battery. Damn it." 

"What does that mean?” 

"When it hits 0%, I won’t be able to use it again. There are no chargers or sockets and, worse, no electricity.” You groaned. 

“I’m having great difficulty understanding the words you used,” he said, mesmerized by the device you were holding.

"Believe me, you’re not missing much. Anyway, it looks like we have plenty of time until nightfall. Let me show you some pictures from my gallery; I think my battery will last a bit longer.”

In the evening, Marcus and the others came back, and they were having dinner in this cool room called the triclinium. You were really surprised they called you to join them. You’d always been curious about those rooms, and seeing it all up close was pretty impressive.

Again, It all felt surreal.

Marcus was sitting at the head of the table, with his stepmother Balbina and his daughter Lydia to his left. Julius was seated to Marcus’s right, and since there were no other available seats, you had to sit next to him. Balbina and Lydia shot you glares, while the slaves continued to bring you food and drinks, clearly displeased with your presence but managing to endure it.

"Do you believe the red team will perform well in the races tomorrow?” Julius asked Marcus.

"Their horses are strong, and the chariot racer is well-skilled. However, the blue team is also quite formidable. We will better understand the outcome tomorrow; you will attend as well to see for yourself."

Julius was glad to go; it meant he wouldn’t be stuck babysitting you. But you thought the day ahead was going to be pretty boring without him. Then Marcus said, “I want you to come with me tomorrow.”

You kept munching away, thinking he was talking to someone else, but when you looked up, everyone was staring at you.

Wait, was he actually talking to you?

“The Emperor wishes to meet with you,” Marcus stated, meeting your gaze directly.

You stopped chewing for a second, swallowed. “Me? Why?”

"My son, what could her purpose be for being there?" Balbina asked, interrupting.

“Emperor Severus has expressed a desire to meet the woman I intend to marry,” he stated matter-of-factly.

Lydia looked at him.  “Will he grant her the necessary special permission for the conubium?”

“He didn’t say otherwise,” he replied coldly.

“Shouldn’t we ensure this girl is genuinely suitable for such a union?”

Ugh, why was this conversation taking such a frustrating turn?

It was making you angry.

Marcus, lips pressed into a thin line, paused to sip his wine, not saying a word.

"I will take her to the midwife tomorrow for an examination. I doubt she’s untouched,” she said, shooting you a look.

Suddenly, you felt your blood rush, and you stared at Marcus with wide eyes. But he shot a deadly look at Balbina. “There’s no need for that. It will not happen.” 

“But my son—” 

“I said it won’t happen!” he interjected, his tone slicing through the air like a knife.

“Look at what we’re talking about over dinner. What a family,” you mumbled to yourself.

"Commencing tomorrow, please ensure that all arrangements for the wedding are completed. I will be consulting with the high priest regarding the details."

“You said you were going to talk to him the other day,” you piped up. “Did you?”

Everyone turned to look at you again.

Oops, rude behavior alert.

“We’ll discuss it later,” he said, standing up and leaving the room, as cold as ever just like he always was.

But you weren’t going to let him go this time, so you followed him.

Something darted right next to your foot, small and with a tail.

Shit.

“Marcus—aaah!” You ran over to him, grabbing onto him for dear life. When he turned around at the sound of your voice, he regretted it; you lunged at him so fast he could barely hold you. But you didn’t care—the little mouse was still there, squeaking away.

“Rat! A freaking rat!” you squeaked louder than the rat.

“Calm down. It won’t harm you; it’s probably more terrified than you are,” he admonished, his tone steady as he tried to soothe your frayed nerves. In your frantic movements, your braided hair cascaded over your shoulder, drawing his attention. His gaze fell upon the mole nestled at the nape of your neck, his expression shifted to one of startled recognition, as if fragments of a long-buried memory were surfacing, stirring something deep within him.

You let out a sigh of relief when the rat finally disappeared.

Julius and Lydia came over, and what they saw was more shocking than the mouse. You froze, realizing how awkward things looked—your arms were wrapped around Marcus, and he was gripping your arms pretty tightly.

How did this even happen?

Damn it.

Marcus gently pushed your arms away to free himself, trying to regain his composure.

Julius crouched down, surveying the area in search of the rat. “We have been experiencing issues with the rats lately; it may be necessary to set some traps. I will arrange for the appropriate measures to deal with them,” he stated.

“That would be wise,” Marcus nodded, still glancing at you, while you looked away, still a bit freaked out about the rat.

“All this commotion over a mere mouse?” Lydia rolled her eyes and went back down the hallway.

Marcus turned the other way.

“Hey! You promised we’d go there!” you called out, quickening your pace to catch up with him.

“Make sure you’re ready to leave then,” he replied, his gaze fixed ahead, not sparing a glance back.

“Okay!” you exclaimed, a bright smile breaking through your unease as you hurried to your room to gather your belongings, unaware that you were heading into another failure.

Another melancholic morning unfurled, draped in a cloak of strangeness, with a profound sense of failure tugging at your heart like an unwelcome shadow. Like Marcus mentioned last night, the moon was almost a new moon—prevailing shades of gray, nothing really bright or dark.

Was that really what it was about?

That is why you can't go back?

The wait for the full moon felt like an endless ordeal, and you were anxious about how each day would pass without losing your mind. You really hoped it wouldn’t drag on until an eclipse occurred; that thought was gnawing at you.

As the girls got you dressed, you felt a warm rush running down your leg. Panic almost took hold, but luckily, your love for organization meant you had tampons tucked in your bag for unexpected situations like this —well not ike this but still— thank goodness for that. The girls looked at you in surprise; they must've had a different way of dealing with such things.

Honestly, being a woman was tough in any era.

The outfit you wore this time was brighter, adorned with sparkling gold jewelry that dangled from your wrists, arms, and neck. They even sang as they draped it on you, but it felt heavy and uncomfortable; you couldn't wait to strip it off.

Marcus was waiting for you in the courtyard. As you made your way down the stairs, you tugged at the new braid in your hair—it wasn’t your usual style at all. When you finally spotted him, his back turned, that flash of red from his shawl made your heart race again.

You should be mad at him—he was the guy who flipped your life upside down.You shook your head and tried to brush those dreamy feelings off. When he turned to face you, he paused for a second, and it felt like something shifted between you.

Alongside the anger, for the first time in ages, he felt his heart beat with real emotion, almost overwhelming. However he seemed to gather himself quickly, clearing his throat as he said, “If you’re ready, we shall take our leave,” but his eyes quickly fell to your big-ass bag—quite the contrast to your fancy outfit. “It would be inappropriate to bring that along."

Your frowned. “Why not?”

“Because it appears out of place, and I believe you will not require the contents within,” he explained.

“How can you say I won’t need it?” you protested.

Marcus sighed deeply and crossed his arms. “Can’t you just follow my orders? Do you always have to complain?”

You found your gaze drawn to his arms; the muscles were just a few inches from your face.

And those biceps...

What the hell?

You really need to get your shit together.

“Okay, okay, but I need to grab something,” you said, rummaging through your bag.

Marcus raised an eyebrow, looking skeptical. “What is it?”

“Well, it’s a bit… feminine.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at the confused look on his face. “Let me spell it out for you, Mr. General. You know how women have their monthly thing, right?”

He paused as if processing your words, having never encountered a woman talking about it so casually. It was a bit indecent in his time, but honestly, it didn’t seem to bother him too much. Perhaps he has become accustomed to your unique way of speaking by now.

Clearing his throat, “I’ll be waiting outside,” he said, turning away to give you some space.

You didn’t look up; you were still fixated on locating those tampons. “Come on, where are you? If I say apples, appear; if I say pears, disappear.”

Those words.

Marcus froze mid-step, a shiver racing down his spine as a long-buried memory blossomed in his mind. A voice echoed from the recesses of his past, resonating with a sense of urgency that pulled him taut between the present and a fleeting recollection that danced just out of reach.

'Marcus! Where are you? If I say apples, appear; if I say pears, disappear.'

The timbre of the voice reverberated in his thoughts, youthful and playful, yet unmistakably familiar. His heart fluttered like a dust-laden page roused by a gentle breeze, yearning to shake off the dust. The very sound was the reason he couldn't dare to move, standing still like a statue.

Julius stepped into the sun-drenched courtyard, his features etched with both surprise and concern as he took in the scene before him. "Brother?"

Marcus, however, was consumed by an unshakeable silence that pressed down around him like a heavy fog; his eyes were fixed intently on a singular point, as if the world around him had faded away. When he finally turned his gaze back to you, you stood there clutching your tampons awkwardly, the bright morning sun casting a warm glow over your obliviousness. As you meticulously zipped up your bag, a sense of urgency gripped the air, and you noticed Marcus drawing closer, his expression undeniably strange.

“Those words you just spoke...”

You raised your eyebrows, wondering if he was referring to your period.

“Could you repeat that?” His tone was oddly insistent.

Julius looked confused as he glanced between the two of you, but he couldn’t have been more puzzled than you were.

“Are you upset because I called you ‘Mr. General?” you asked timidly.

“No, not that,” he replied shaking his head..

You thought the last thing you said was... the rhyme.

"If I say apples, appear; if I say pears, disappear. This one?"

He made a face as if you had cursed him.

“How do you know? Those words.”

What was his problem, really?

"I used to say it when playing hide and seek with my sister when we were little. What’s the big deal?”

"Is this saying recognized in your time? Do many individuals commonly use these words?"

“No, it’s just a code we made up to keep the game fun and free from getting caught,” you explained.

Marcus just stood there looking into your eyes. You really didn't understand what had happened.

Why was he acting like that?

His brown eyes pensive and piercing, compelling you to look away. You shifted your view to Julius, hoping for some clarity in this tangled situation.

Recovering from his own surprise, Julius placed a calming hand on Marcus’s shoulder. “Brother, we'd better leave now,” he urged.

With a slow nod, Marcus turned to head toward the courtyard's exit.

You called over to one of the slave girls, asking her to take your bag back to your room—carefully, of course. As she took it, a wave of sadness washed over you at parting with it, mixed with anxiety about the trip to Circus Maximus, which was just a ruin back in your time. With your period and cramps to contend with, you braced yourself for a challenging day ahead.

“Oh, my God.”

That was your immediate reaction the moment you stepped into the magnificent Circus Maximus. A maelstrom of emotions—fear, denial, panic, and disbelief—swirled within you. This couldn’t possibly be real. Yet, as you took in the splendor surrounding you, you realized it was as tangible as the marble floor beneath your feet—the cool stone grounding you in this extraordinary moment.

The images of RPG ambient videos you had scrolled through online flickered through your mind. Video games, films, and TV series had painted scenes like this, but nothing could prepare you for this overwhelming spectacle. It was beyond anything your imagination could conceive, far surpassing the vivid renderings of your fantasies. The grandstands of the colossal racing venue rose like ancient giants, filled with spectators—each face a mixture of excitement and anticipation. The air buzzed with the vibrant sounds of voices, lively music, thundering drums, piercing whistles, shouts of encouragement, and cheers echoing like a tidal wave crashing upon the shore. Instinctively, you recoiled, stepping back as the enormity of what lay before you threatened to swallow you whole. It was a blend of shock and awe—a devastating reality that ignited an exhilarating spark within you. When Marcus gently touched your arm, his presence snapped you back to reality. You noticed the tension in his expression, a slight nervous bite of his lower lip, mirroring the storm of emotions churning inside you. Your own palms felt clammy, not from the heat of the sun, but from sheer wonder.

“This way,” Marcus said.

Julius gestured in a direction, and instinctively, you turned, though your gaze was still captured by the spectacle surrounding you. Wherever you looked, your eyes were met with an entirely new detail—each one more fascinating than the last, drawing you deeper into this vivid reality. The dizzying array of sights threatened to overwhelm your senses, and the thought of finding a seat crossed your mind.

Nevertheless, you followed Marcus, enchanted yet bewildered, likely with your mouth agape and eyes wide in astonishment. Several times you stumbled on the uneven stones, clinging to his arm to steady yourself. He then admonished you to look ahead and be cautious. He reminded you to stay focused and watch your step. You squinted at him; this was a mind-blowing experience for you. He must understand how hard it was for you, but why should you be surprised?

He was a cold bastard with no empathy.

“You’d better acclimate to the flowing fabric of that long dress, soon you'll be wearing a stola all the time.” Julius said with a chuckle.

Being a costume designer, you knew exactly what he meant and what a stola was. You’d done some design work and sewing yourself before. 'We’ll see about that,' you thought as you continued walking, stopping whenever Marcus did.

Your heart raced when you caught sight of someone in a huge imperial box wearing a shiny golden crown.

Jesus Christ, it was him.

Septimius freaking Severus.

What you were seeing felt like something straight out of a historian's wildest dreams. He was the focus of tons of term papers and theses. Those statues you'd seen, the busts in all those exhibits, auction houses, and museums didn’t prepare you for this moment.

Here he was, in the flesh and blood—totally alive.

You’d have sounded ridiculous if you told anyone about this in 2025; they would’ve laughed for ages. But right now, it was so real. The folks who made the statues, the artists who painted him, and even those who did 3D renders of his face online nailed it. You couldn’t help but think of how great it would be to tell them when you got back that he really did look like that. You had to bite your lip to keep from chuckling at the idea.

You still couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that it was him. But then you caught yourself just staring.

Oh, right.

Marcus had reminded you not to gawk at the emperor, not to turn your back, and only to speak if he asked you to. So, you gave him a respectful nod instead.

"I believe you are the woman General Acacius wishes to marry." His voice dripped with condescension as he scrutinized you from head to toe, making you feel exposed and uncomfortable. A shiver ran down your spine, and you quickly averted your gaze, only to realize that Caracalla was seated right beside his father. His expression twisted with disdain, as if your very presence was a foul stench, and just as quickly, he turned away. You weren’t eager to see him either; what was with that arrogant attitude?

"Do you have a name girl?"

In that moment, you and Marcus responded in unison.

"Rose."

"Rosa."

Oops, speaking of inappropriate behavior...

Marcus glared at you and you gave him a “What?” look with your eyes.

The emperor and his sons cracked up, and it was obvious where the princes picked up that laugh.

“General is also correct. However, in my homeland, we pronounce it ‘Rose,’ your majesty,” you said, trying to avoid using modern words and respectfully bowing your head.

He laughed again. "I understand. I appreciate your explanation, Rosa.”

You smiled, well he didn't seem like a bad guy. He was probably in his sixties, with gray in his curly long hair.

"She possesses a remarkable propensity to speak quite assertively," Geta murmured, giving you a meaningful look. He had a handsome look going for him, but he wasn't really your type. If he hadn't tried to kill you before, you might’ve felt a bit semphaty for him, but all you felt now was anger and irritation.

“All women possess the ability to speak assertively, my son,” Severus responded with a laugh, prompting a grin from Geta. Caracalla appeared preoccupied with his own thoughts. "I believe you and she would make a suitable pair, Acacius, especially given your reserved nature."

Marcus lowered his head respectfully. "With your esteemed permission, Emperor Severus."

Severus nestled comfortably in his box, adjusting one of his rings with a confident smile. "You have my permission, Acacius, and you will soon receive the contract documents you requested. You may commence preparations at your house. May God Juno bless your union," he declared, raising his wine glass at you two. His evident happiness was striking, more so than that of Marcus.

No, you were wrong.

You didn't like him.

Geta and Caracalla exchanged looks, their expressions unimpressed. Marcus thanked the emperor, and when the drums started, he pointed to the bleachers. You were sitting with the Senate, right next to the emperor. Lucilla and Lucius were with you. Marcus greeted Lucilla and took a seat beside her, motioning for you to join. Julius was on your other side. Once you sat down, you checked out the fancy gold-embroidered chair, running your fingers over the details.

Suddenly, the loud sound of the horn shocked you, and you found yourself clapping along with the crowd, not even sure what for, but it felt impressive. Honestly, it was probably the tranquilizer making you feel unreasonably cheerful.

A moment later, you regretted clapping because one of the gates banged open, and two gladiators stepped out onto the sand, their names called out.

No.

Freaking.

Way.

"You said there’d be a chariot race," you whispered anxiously to Marcus.

Marcus continued to clap, perfectly calm. "The opening often begins with a combat."

"As the dust settles from the fierce combat, the races truly begins with bets being placed," Julius remarked, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

“I thought they were having gladiator fights in the Colosseum,” you said, hiding your face partway with your hand because you couldn’t bear to look at the arena, swallowing hard.

Marcus's lips curled in a smile. "Do you really believe the Colosseum is simply a place for battles?"

"It was in the movies," you murmured.

Lucilla intervened. "Most gladiatorial combats and battles occurs there, along with theatrical performances and a variety of events that captivates the hearts of the citizens."

Thank you, Google, you thought.

You turned your gaze away, resolutely refusing to watch as the two men clashed violently before you. It was an overwhelming sight, more than you could bear. Yet, the crowd around you was entranced, their eyes gleaming with a mix of excitement and morbid curiosity. You’d never understood those who reveled in such brutality, watching with bated breath and eager anticipation. The tension coiled within you as you gripped the edge of your seat, your knuckles white from anxiety.

“It’s clearly your first time,” Lucius remarked, a knowing grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he observed your strained expression. Marcus noticed that Lucius was paying attention to you. He tensed up but managed to stay calm. “Don’t your people have events like this one where you come from?”

“Thankfully, no,” you replied, your voice shaky as you darted your eyes nervously away from him.

But then a bitter truth pierced your thoughts. War had always been a constant shadow, lurking everywhere in your time as well. Despite the advancements in technology and the sheen of modern civilization, humanity seemed perpetually eager for conflict, always seeking justification to spill blood.

War had always existed.

This was merely its most primal form.

When the desperate clamor of the fight faded, anticipation surged through the crowd as the much-anticipated chariot races began. Excitement rippled like electricity, pulling everyone into its fervor, but you remained tense, the gruesome images of men savagely attacking one another still etched in your mind. Even as you shielded your face with your hands, the vivid memories assaulted you—the metallic tang of blood faintly lingering in the air, the sharp, jarring resonance of swords clashing echoed in your ears.

The races, however, were something beyond your wildest imagination. They were a whirlwind of color and speed, a breathtaking spectacle that held your attention captive. But in the middle of all the excitement, there was an annoying issue. The dust kicked up by the roaring chariots mixed with the leftover smoke from earlier, making your nose itch and sending you into a sneezing fit.

Really, why was it that ancient times were so achingly dusty and filled with smoke?

Everyone was buzzing with excitement over their bets. Lucilla and Lucius were all in for the blue team, while Julius was convinced the white team would take it.

“What say you Rosa?” Lucius asked.

You furrowed your brow, still trying to wrap your head around the whole thing. “I’m not really sure how this works.”

“It relies on the capabilities of the horses and their chariot drivers,” Julius replied, his enthusiasm evident. “For instance, the driver of the white team demonstrated commendable performance in the previous race.”

“How can you be certain of that? You were not present for the last race; you did not witness it firsthand,” Lucius interjected.

Julius shrugged. “It is not solely about observing the race. It involves having knowledge and experience. I believe the white team possesses a strong chance of success.”

In contrast, Lucius stated with assurance, “You are mistaken; the blue team is better motivated.”

“Red will emerge victorious,” Marcus asserted confidently, reaching into his pouch to produce several denarii, which he offered to you. “This is your opportunity to participate in betting. I suggest you place your faith in the red team.”

You accepted the coins, a sense of excitement washing over you. “Can I really bet?”

“You may place a bet on my behalf,” he responded with a gentle smile.

Whoa.

You didn’t expect that, and it caught you off guard in a good way.

After heading with Julius to place your bet, you returned, settling down to watch the race with bated breath. You were so focused that you didn’t notice all the times Marcus glanced your way, lost in thought about what you’d said earlier.

Those words.

Was it just a strange coincidence?

Voices melded into a cacophony, yet it was as though only your vibrant figure existed in that moment. His feelings, surprisingly raw and unguarded, danced around him like whispers of a forgotten memory.

Why were these emotions surfacing now?

After all these years, how could he find himself feeling this way again?

Suddenly, the thrill of your betting team’s victory had swept you away, and in that moment, you couldn’t help but hug Marcus tightly. You felt a wave of gratitude wash over you for bringing a spark of happiness into your otherwise somber mood, if only for a fleeting moment.

Your arms wound around his neck, your hair brushing softly against his cheek, and in that instant, he was overwhelmed.

The sensation struck him with the force of an unexpected arrow, piercing right through the defenses he thought impenetrable. But just as quickly, denial swept in, a survival instinct kicking in like a shield as the reality of the moment crashed over him.

He needed to remove that arrow.

Gently but firmly, he took hold of your arms, easing you back and breaking the physical connection that made him feel vulnerable.

“Oops! Sorry,” you said, a light chuckle escaping your lips. “But you guessed right, psycho—well, general, you’re incredible.”

Julius laughed too. "My brother consistently demonstrates wisdom in his judgments. In retrospect, I realize that I should have also considered placing my bets on the red team."

Marcus, however, remained quiet. He fell into a pensive silence, his thoughts drifting like leaves in the wind as he watched the final races unfold.

As an unfortunate time traveler, after several days filled with overwhelming melancholy and sour moods, you found yourself accompanying Balbina and her daughter Lydia to the market one day. The whole marriage nonsense weighed heavily on your mind, but you had no choice but to play along, despite your deep disdain for it. You kept reminding yourself to hold on until the full moon, convinced it would surely open the way back home—it had to, for the sake of your sanity.

All the while, your thoughts were consumed with worries about Lizze, leaving you unable to shake the painful possibilities surrounding her. You barely noticed that Balbina and Lydia were cruelly chatting about you as you wandered through the market, specifically in a fabric shop where they were buying everything for the wedding. Usually, working with fabric brought you joy, igniting excitement over new designs and upcoming projects. But not here. You loathed every moment, just as you despised your former wedding dress, which felt as if it had invisible words scrawled across it: 'abandoned on the altar by the groom.' That very dress, which you had designed and carefully sewn, had ended up in tears, frustration, and curses as you ripped it apart.

Slaves carried bolts of cloth, while Balbina engaged in animated conversation with someone nearby. Eyes were on you, just like that day at Circus Maximus; it seemed as if you had become some sort of celebrity in this world—the outlander girl the General was destined to marry.

How lovely.

You crossed your arms, looking away as a vendor enthusiastically offered you various fabrics. Just as you were about to decline and turn around, you heard a noise—a familiar voice you had long yearned to hear.

Your father’s voice.

Could you have imagined it?

Surely your brain was playing tricks on you from the tranquilizers you’d taken. No, you needed to see the face behind that voice to be sure. Your heart raced as you turned around, and there he was.

Damn it, it was him.

Though his hair looked different, the familiar face remained unchanged—those wrinkles around his eyes you remembered from the last time you saw him back in the hospital. The distinctive smile you recalled from your old days before the accident was still there. He stood before you in a Roman senator's toga, and for a moment, you were frozen in shock, paralyzed until he vanished from view. At that moment, Lydia's voice cut through the fog of your thoughts, snapping you back to reality.

You had to act, and fast.

Your instincts kicked in, propelling you into the throng of people, your heart set on finding your father or the man who bore such a striking resemblance of him. The shouts of Lydia and the others quickly dimmed as you maneuvered through the throngs of people, pushing aside those who got in your way, seeing them merely as obstacles. Soon, you reached a quieter street and spotted him again, standing beside a palanquin that slaves had lowered to the ground, conversing with someone inside.

As you crept closer, a whirlwind of questions flooded your mind.

What would you say first?

What would you do?

How could you ask if he recognizes you without bursting into tears?

Lectica—you suddenly remembered the word roman use for the palanquin—moved forward alongside the man, who continued speaking to the figure within. Your eagerness to see his face took precedence over all else until you caught the mention of a familiar name.

"We have decided to postpone our plan to eliminate Acacius," a woman’s voice chimed in, striking a chord in your memory.

"I heard that he is set to marry soon, my lady," your father replied, each syllable unmistakably his. Yet you forced yourself to listen; there was no room for tears now.

"He is to wed an outlander, someone of little significance—which serves our interests."

"As you wish, my lady. I shall gather near the Colosseum with the others when night falls."

With that, the slaves hurried the lectica along, their footsteps echoing on the cobblestones. As the curtain fell shut with a soft rustle, you barely caught a fleeting glimpse of a woman’s profile—Lucilla.

You found yourself torn between two shocking revelations: Lucilla's deceitful plans and the unsettling truth that your father's doppelganger was not only involved in those schemes but also had a sinister side.

As you trailed behind the man, your courage began to wane, and your physical strength was fading even faster. After walking for so long, the soles of your feet ached with each step. How did people in this era manage to walk everywhere without collapsing from exhaustion?

Your father's doppelganger turned down another street, and your foot caught on one of the uneven stones. You stumbled and landed hard on your knee. “Oh, crap,” you muttered, instinctively lifting the hem of your skirt to inspect the wound. Unfortunately, you hadn’t noticed that you were right outside a pleasure house—definitely not ideal territory. The man you were following disappeared into a large two-story building at the street's end. You decided to rest there until he emerged; your body was already protesting from pain and fatigue.

Just then, two really drunk men stumbled into view, their eyes locking onto you with unsettling interest.

“What are you staring at?” you barked at them.

Seriously, what was it with people in this time and their fascination with women’s legs?

The men laughed and sauntered away.

“That's really you,” a familiar voice chimed in, and you turned to see Lucius wearing that infuriating grin of his. When had he shown up, and where had he come from?

He glanced around before focusing back on you. “What brings you out here alone? Are you out of your mind?”

“Can't you see I hurt my knee?” you replied, frowning.

“Not just me, all men around here see that,” he said, crouching beside you. With a gentle tug, he adjusted the hem of your skirt to cover your exposed legs. "You'll live." Ah, yes, for people in this era, a simple injury like yours barely registered. “Does the general know you’re here?”

“Why do you care?”

He smirked. "Do you even realize where you are?"

You looked around at the bustling street. Men and women mingled, laughter drifting from the house behind you. One of the women lifted her skirt, flirting with a man, and suddenly it clicked.

Oh, no.

So that’s what showing legs was all about.

“Ugh,” you said, grimacing in disgust.

Lucius chuckled. “You’re quite a unique woman. I wonder why the General seeks to marry you, as he has always been perceived as emotionally distant from any woman, even from whores.” He cast a glance toward the house.

But his question didn’t pique your interest; instead, you fixated on his remark.

Does he never visit here?

You didn’t know why that made you feel so relieved.

“None of your business,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “It’s clear you frequent this place often, given how well you know the faces that come and go.”

He shrugged casually, a nonchalant smile playing on his lips. “If I were fortunate enough to find a beauty like you to marry, I wouldn’t need to visit this establishment to fulfill my desires,” he replied, his gaze piercing into yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. It made you feel both intrigued and uneasy, as if he could see right through your defenses with his blue eyes. "Do you have the strength to rise? This streets can become increasingly perilous for a woman, particularly once the sun sets."

Panic suddenly washed over you, and you placed your hand on the cobblestones, trying to push yourself up but failed. Lucius sighed, effortlessly scooping you up into his arms.

“Hey, put me down!” you protested.

“Where’s your carriage? I’ll take you,” he replied nonchalantly.

Your face fell. “I don’t know.”

Lucius laughed, a sound filled with genuine amusement. “Allow me to guess, you find yourself lost, do you not?”

Reluctantly, you wrapped your arm around his neck. “Yes, congratulations, genius.”

"You’re uncivilized and indecent girl, but oddly enough, I'm starting to like you more," he remarked, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

“And I’m growing to hate you more. You’re not at all what I thought you were.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Did you know me before?”

Yeah, from the museum and history books.

“Just put me down; I can walk,” you insisted.

“I’ll carry you to the General’s villa.”

“That’s not necessary. Why are you even helping me?” Apparently, he wasn't as malicious as his mother, but trust was a different matter.

“I owe Acacius, and I don’t like being in debt,” he explained.

“You owe him?”

“It’s quite the tale, my dear flower. But first, I have to ask—are you certain you want to marry him?” he asked suddenly. “If there’s any doubt in your heart, why not marry me instead? Trust me, you won’t regret it,” he said. His fingers tightened around your legs as he leaned in, gazing at your lips.

You smacked him right in the face. “Put me down now!” you yelled, trying to break free.

He sighed and said, "Alright, I deserve this. I apologize."

His expression fell as you averted your eyes. People on the street stared as you two passed, but Lucius didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered.

When you arrived at the villa, Lucius was carefully lowering you down when Julius noticed and sprinted toward you, looking pretty worried.

“Where have you been? We have all been concerned.” 

His gaze shifted to Lucius, whose self-satisfied smirk only deepened Julius's frown.

“Julius, I—” you began, your voice wavering, but your words faltered as you spotted Marcus emerging from the shadows behind him, his face a storm cloud of anger.

“How could you run away through the streets recklessly? Didn't I warn you before? It’s beyond irresponsible!” he thundered, his brow furrowed in disappointment.

You bit your lip, trying to defend yourself. “Just let me explain—”

He looked at Lucius. “What about you? Did I summon you to Rome at great risk to my men only so you could walk aimlessly through the streets?”

“I wouldn’t have been able to save the woman you are betrothed to if I hadn’t been walking those very streets, General.”

Marcus exhaled deeply, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “For that, I am grateful. Now return to your mother. And if you hold any affection for her, cleave to caution.”

“Don’t speak to me as if you’re my father, because you are not,” Lucius retorted sharply.

“Lucius, how dare you speak like that to him?” Julius exploded, his fist clenching in anger as he lunged forward. But Marcus intercepted him, his grip firm yet steady, forcing his brother to halt.

Lucius merely motioned for them both to silence themselves before melting into the shadows.

A heavy silence settled in the aftermath of Lucius's departure, and though Marcus uttered no words, the hurt etched on his features spoke volumes. The sudden intensity of his gaze shifted to you, and you felt a knot form in your throat. “Why did you leave without a word? You know I’m responsible for your safety.”

“I didn't mean to, I saw some....thing and then I got lost.”

He raised his finger and pointed inside. “Return to your room at once. You are not to set foot outside this villa until the wedding.”

“Look, Marcus, you don't have to marry me. I don't want to either, I can take care of myself.”

“Not here! This is not your time. The Emperor has already granted approval, and all arrangements have been finalized.”

“I can’t marry! It’s impossible—you don’t understand how hard this is for me.”

“It’s not a real marriage, after all. It’s for your own protection. Why can’t you understand that? Why won’t you let me keep you safe?” 

“You think you can handle everything, don’t you, General? But you’re completely missing the traitor lurking right under your nose. How ironic.” 

He paused, tilting his head slightly to the side, his frown deepening. “What do you mean by that?”

“I saw Lady Lucilla in conversation with a man.” It didn’t seem like the right moment to reveal that the man was the ancient Roman version of your father. “They were discussing you, plotting to get rid of you or eliminate—”

Suddenly, he rushed over, cupping your jaw and pressing his hand against your mouth. “One more word and I'll cut off your tongue.”

You gasped in fear.

Julius placed a hand on his brother's arm. “Calm yourself, Marcus,” he urged, but Marcus brushed him off and pressed on. “I told you to show respect when you speak of her. Do you really think you know her better than I do?”

You struggled to push his hand away from your mouth. “Sure, who am I to say anything, right?”

He was taken aback by your defiance.

“Believe it or not, they’re meeting tonight near the Colosseum. If you don’t trust me, go see for yourself!” you yelled, pushing his arm away with force. You stumbled into the courtyard, mumbling under your breath and touching where his fingers hurt your jaw.

“What a brutal bastard. I hate you.” 

At night, you found yourself pacing in that damn room, lost in thought and unsure of what to do. Balbina and Lydia were even angrier with you after what happened today, and you definitely didn’t want to face them. Alone in the dim light, as anxiety clawed mercilessly at your insides, you felt the familiar grip tighten around your chest.

With an urgent flick of your wrist, you hurled your bag over your shoulder and slipped out of the room, your heart racing with the hope of escape. It was bedtime now, and in the stillness of the night, the villa felt like a prison, with your room resembling a cell. You thought of heading to the temple to read the parchment. Perhaps this time it would work. You just needed to get out, and fast.

“Are you going somewhere?” a voice broke through your thoughts.

Oh, crap. You hadn’t even descended the stairs yet.

Julius leaned against the balustrade, watching you. You hadn’t spotted him in the shadows. As he approached, his eyes fell on the bag slung over your shoulder. "I assume you were heading to the temple?"

“Hmm, looks like you know me well now,” you responded, forcing a nervous laugh.

He sighed, pushing a hand through his hair. “You really are stubborn. Please, leave your bag in the room and come with me.”

“I can’t just leave it behind.”

"Please, I made a promise to my brother to take care of you, so I really need to ensure you stay inside the villa."

“Where is he?”

He sighed and stated, “He has gone to the location you previously mentioned.”

You raised an eyebrow in surprise. “He decided to believe me now?”

“He’s not quite who you think he is. Allow me to clarify a few things about him.”

“All right,” you relented, heading back to your room to drop off your bag. But as you entered, you noticed a plate of fruit on the table so tossed the bag onto the bed. You left the room, not caring that it fell and scattered its contents everywhere.

Anger surged within you.

As if Marcus wasn't enough to contend with, here was Julius blocking your way. You felt isolated; nobody from this time understood you, and you couldn’t make sense of them either.

You were taken aback when Julius led you to the stables. Still, you followed him, sensing he was taking you somewhere else. The disgusting smell hit you, but oddly, you realized you had grown used to it. A small garden and a fountain lay ahead. Julius gestured to a boulder and sat down opposite it.

“My brother and I used to come here to practice swordplay in our youth,” he began. “He was older, so he’d let me act like I was winning. Our father would watch us from over there.” He sighed deeply. “We were so happy back then, and I was still young when he passed. It was my brother who comforted me after that; he always protected me, even stepping up as a father. Unfortunately, I was unable to protect what was most precious to him.”

You looked at him, intrigued and puzzled.

What did he mean?

“Have you ever loved a man deeply?” he asked.

“Like romantic love? I thought I did once, but it was a mistake. Honestly, I think love is pointless. It’s illogical to care for someone more than yourself.”

“He did," He cut you off. "My brother.”

“Marcus? He loved someone? Wow, that’s hard to imagine.”

“He wasn’t always like this. He used to be cheerful, hopeful, full of life.”

It was hard to believe, but your curiosity kept you listening. “He loved a girl, innocent and bright. He treasured her above all else, treating her like the most beautiful yet fragile thing.  Their connection stood in stark contrast to the bonds I witnessed between my mother and father, or those of other couples, resonating with a unique depth and tenderness."

“I sense there’s a ‘but’ coming,”  you said softly, hoping to lift his spirits, as the sadness in his eyes made you feel uneasy.

“However her family and my father weren’t in favor of their union. Though they chose to pause their arrangements, their hearts remained intertwined, steadfast in love. Then, my brother enlisted in the army, bravely stepping into the tumult of his first war. When he returned, however, he faced a devastating revelation. The girl he had intended to marry had been sacrificed to the temple of Vesta, her fate sealed by her family's offering."

You remember the Vesta virgins from your history readings; they could never marry and were bound to the temple for their lifetime.

It tugged at your heart.

“What did Marcus do?”

“He was devastated and furious, but there was nothing he could do. At least, that’s what everyone thought, including me. He loved her fiercely, and she was miserable in that temple. At first, he asked my father to speak to the emperor, but to no avail. The rules were set in stone. He tried everything he could; I was a witness to it all, and in the end, he made a choice.”

You tensed up. “What kind of choice?”

“He concocted a daring plan to sneak her out of the sacred Temple of Vesta, to spirit her away from the heart of Rome to a pastoral village where his commander, Maximus, lived peacefully with his family. But first, destiny called him to join Maximus in the northern legion, to face the ruthless onslaught of the Germans. When they returned, the Rome they knew had shifted irrevocably; Commodus had ascended to the throne and brutally punished Maximus for daring to defy him. This cruel turn of fate shattered my brother’s hopes, costing him not only his commander but also the chance to fulfill a promise made to the woman he loved. The sequence of events becomes a blur, but after Commodus’s demise, my brother saw a flicker of hope amidst the chaos that had engulfed the Senate. It was then he resolved to rescue her from the confines of the temple. Instead of serving a corrupt Rome, he chose to serve her. One of the temple guards, a loyal friend, agreed to aid him; they meticulously plotted their escape, with my brother awaiting their rendezvous at the harbor under the veil of that night. Yet, fate turned against them once more; despite their careful planning, they were apprehended just as they sought the promise of freedom. The guards, quick to act, seized the two of them, the priests punishing them for the offense they were clearly guilty of."

“The two of them?” you echoed, incredulous.

“They believed my brother's friend was her lover, as they didn't reveal my brother's name.” Julius looked at you with tears in his eyes. “They made a sacrifice to protect him.”

You swallowed hard. “Sacrifice?” you struggled to maintain your composure. “How did they..." Your heart was racing. "What do you mean by that?”

You knew the horrific punishment a priestess of Vesta faced for treachery, but it still felt unbelievable.

You dreaded what you were about to hear. “Oh god, don’t tell me…” you gasped.

Julius’ sighed deeply. “They… buried her alive.”

Your eyes flew open in shock as your heart raced. You pressed your hands tightly against your mouth, desperately trying to stifle the disbelief that overwhelmed you. An icy wave of dread, like a thousand icy fingers, ran down your spine, causing your entire body to tremble uncontrollably. Hot tears cascaded down your cheeks, blurring your vision as your surroundings spun around you.

How could anyone justify inflicting such a horrific and inhumane punishment on an innocent girl?

When Marcus stepped into the villa, an overwhelming weight settled in his chest, pressing down like a storm cloud ready to burst. Fury boiled within him, directed at Lucilla—the very woman he had been shadowing for the entire night—who was precisely where you had said she would be.

Lucilla.

The disappointment of betrayal weighed heavily on Marcus. He had placed his complete trust in this woman, offering support in her time of need. He struggled to comprehend how she could have turned against him. He fought against disbelief, yet the truth he had witnessed was undeniable. With a sense of urgency, he pushed doubts to the back of his mind, focusing instead on finding you to offer the apology he owed. He had wronged you, and the weight of that realization gnawed at him. It was late, likely past the hour when you were asleep, but something pulled him toward your room with an untamed instinct.

He cast a glance through the doorway, but found it eerily empty. The absence of your presence left him baffled. Just as he was about to retreat, a whirlwind of curiosity and concern surged through him, spurred by the chaos strewn across the floor—your bag sprawled open, its contents carelessly scattered.

“Rosa?” he called softly, stepping carefully inside. Silence wrapped around him, intensifying the chaos he observed. Frustration surged within him as he took in the mess you had made, yet an odd impulse to tidy up tugged at him, thinking how reckless you were, even when it came to your belongings.

As he crouched to gather your things, something caught his eye amidst the mess. It was your wallet. Normally, he wouldn’t pay much attention to your peculiar assortment of trinkets, but the sight of a photo nestled inside made him freeze, breath caught in his throat.

There it was—a vibrant snapshot of your twelve-year-old self, beaming with joy beside little Lizzie at age five.

At 26, the years had transformed your appearance but he could notice it was your younger version.

But that wasn't the real issue.

Not at all.

What truly struck him was your striking resemblance to someone embedded in his heart and realization crushed him, gripping his heart relentlessly, leaving him breathless.

The bewilderment consumed him.

The puzzle pieces of his youth began to scatter chaotically in his mind, and he found himself grappling with the impossible question.

How could you possibly look so much like her?

For over twenty years, he had cherished her memory, but as time marched on, the details faded: the nuances of her face, the sound of her laugh, the scent of her presence…

Only the pain remained, like a knife stabbed into his heart—unyielding and sharp.

Yet now this picture breathed life into everything he thought he had put to rest. Her smile was unmistakable; it was the same radiant energy that had once filled his world with light.

A whirlwind of thoughts engulfed him, turning sense into nonsense and clarity into chaos. He sank to the floor, cradling the photograph in his trembling hands, his heart racing as if trying to escape his chest. Memories flooded back from the day he lost her, the moment his world crumbled.

He could almost hear the echo of the words he had held onto when he awoke: “Your prayers have been answered, child.”

He then recalled the moment, how you spoke those words just like her previous day. It was between Marcus and her; no one could know that, but you knew somehow.

Then the mole on the back of your neck was in the very same spot as hers.

Again, the very phrase, “Your prayers have been answered, child,” drifted through his thoughts like a haunting melody.

He had only one prayer: to die and reunite with the woman he loved in another life.

Were you truly her reincarnation?

Why couldn’t you recall anything about him?

Could it be that you were just a figment of his imagination?

No, it couldn’t be.

He knew that you were real, made of flesh and blood.

The last memory he had of the woman he cherished was of her at twelve, which might explain why he hadn’t recognized you. With his fingers pressed against the bridge of his nose, he grappled with a surge of emotions.

Why?

If the gods had answered his prayer, why hadn’t they returned him to her? This woman may look like her, but she truly is not.

Or was she?

What intricate tapestry of fate had been woven here, and what lesson lay hidden in its threads?

After a time lost in contemplation, he wiped away the tears that had escaped his resolute facade and stood up, determination surging within him.

Questions could linger in the shadows for a while longer; there was something he needed to confirm above all else.

Were you truly her?

hope you enjoyed the chapter babies, thanks for reading ❤️

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[dracosprettygirl]

we need draco to come and finger us while telling us to read out our study books

۶ৎ revision & recitation

pairing: draco x reader word count: 1.2k words. summary: you were supposed to be studying for your N.E.W.T.s— but draco has other ideas. ever since he caught you reading late at night, he’s been testing just how well you retain information… with his fingers between your legs and your textbook in your lap. warnings: 18+, mdni; sexual tension; suggestive language; flirting; physical touch; profanity; fingering (f!receiving), light d/s tones, study kink, breathy teasing, voice kink, overstimulation, public risk (slytherin dorm), unprotected hand play, praise & filth, oral sex (f!receiving), praise kink, overstimulation, light dominance, possessive!Draco, messy, worshipful energy, lots of filthy talk. draco being a smug menace not proofread, let me know if i missed anything! A/N: i wrote this in the middle of exam szn but completely forgot about it lmao but OMG. THIS. THIS IS THE SOLE THOUGHT THAT GOT ME THROUGH MY LAST COUPLE OF EXAMS I SWEAR TO FUCKING ALL THINGS HOLY.

♫ earned it by the weeknd.

The common room was quiet. Too quiet.

The fire crackled low in the hearth, casting flickers of orange across the green velvet furniture and the scattered books. Everyone else was long gone—either asleep or doing Merlin-knows-what in the dorms.

You were curled in your usual corner seat, study book in your lap, ink smudged on your wrist, trying very hard to focus on the chapter about advanced shielding spells.

You didn't even hear him approach.

"Still up?" Draco murmured from behind you, his voice like silk-wrapped sin. "How shockingly responsible of you."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t look up. "Unlike you, some of us actually study."

He hummed. "Oh, I study. I just learn better through... hands-on methods."

You snorted. "You're insufferable."

"Mm, perhaps. But I'm also helpful. Want a break?"

"I need to finish this chapter."

"Then read it to me," he said.

You finally glanced up. He was already lowering himself onto the armrest beside you, one arm draped over the back of the couch, eyes glinting with something wicked. You knew that look. You should’ve said no.

But you didn’t, not even as he slid into the couch behind you, pulling you into his lap like you weighed nothing.

You turned the page, cleared your throat. "‘The Protego Maxima spell is a fortified variant of the standard—’"

"Slower," he said.

You paused. "What?"

"Read it slower."

You frowned, but obliged. "‘The Protego Maxima spell... is a fortified... variant of—’"

You jolted when his fingers brushed your thigh.

"Draco."

"Keep going," he said, voice low, eyes not leaving yours.

"Draco, I'm studying."

"You’re reciting," he corrected. His hand slid higher. "I'm helping you retain information."

"You’re helping me fail my N.E.W.T.s."

"Untrue." His hand slipped beneath your skirt, palm warm against your bare inner thigh. "You're going to remember this chapter forever."

You gasped as his fingers stroked upward—slow, confident—teasing the edge of your underwear.

"Draco—"

"Keep reading."

You swallowed hard, eyes flicking to the page. Your voice trembled. "‘...fortified variant of the standard shielding charm. Unlike Protego, this incantation—’"

He pushed your panties aside and dragged a finger along your already slick pussy.

Your breath caught. He smiled.

"Good girl," he murmured. "I barely touched you."

"I hate you."

"Lie again and I’ll stop."

You whimpered.

"Read," he said.

Your eyes fluttered back to the page. "‘Unlike... unlike Protego, this incantation... casts a more resilient—oh—’"

He slid two fingers inside you.

You bit your lip, hips bucking involuntarily into his touch. His thumb found your clit like he knew exactly where to touch you—which, of course, he did.

"Go on, sweetheart."

Your voice shook. "‘...resilient magical barrier, useful for... defense against... offensive hexes—’"

"You’re dripping," he whispered. "So filthy. Reading about Defense Against The Dark Arts with my fingers buried inside you."

You keened when he curled his fingers, just right, rubbing against that devastating spot inside you.

"Say the next line."

"I—Draco—"

"You can do both. You’re clever, aren’t you?"

You whined, legs shaking.

"Come on, baby. Use that pretty voice. Prove to me how smart you are."

You blinked through the haze, managed: "‘It requires... more concentration... and an—ah—an understanding of spell layering—’"

"Fuck, you're gorgeous like this."

You clenched around him as his fingers moved faster, wetter now, the sound obscene in the silence. His thumb never left your clit, and his mouth was at your ear, murmuring filth between praises.

"Bet you'll come like this, won’t you? Moaning through your revision like a good little thing."

You groaned, tightening around his fingers.

"Tell me what the next paragraph says."

"I can't—"

"You can."

"‘A... a well-cast Protego Maxima—’"

"Good girl."

"‘—can... fuck—can last several minutes—’"

"That’s it. I'm gonna keep you like this," he rasped. "Edge you until you’re dripping down my hand, then make you read it all again."

"Draco—please—"

"You want to come?"

You nodded desperately.

He pressed harder. "Then earn it."

Your voice cracked. "‘...and requires a firm—Draco—command of—’"

"Say it."

"—command of... magical focus."

He growled, low and rough, and kissed the side of your neck. "That's my girl."

And then he sped up, his other hand sneaking up your shirt, fingers toying with your nipple as pushed you over the edge.

Your orgasm crashed through you—sharp and desperate—and you came with a strangled cry against his shoulder, trembling, gasping, hips rocking into his hand.

Draco held you steady, fingers gentle now, mouth at your temple.

"Lesson complete," he whispered as you turned around to face him. "Top marks."

You buried your face in his chest. "I’m never studying again."

He laughed.

"Liar."

You were still trembling in his arms, your breath fogging the curve of Draco’s shoulder. Your thighs felt weak, your mind full of static—shielding spells forever ruined by the feel of his fingers inside you.

He kissed your temple, still cradling you against him.

“Was that too much?” he murmured, lips brushing your hairline.

You shook your head slowly. “No. That was...”

“Devastating?” he offered, smug.

You shot him a half-hearted glare. “You’re so fucking full of yourself.”

“And yet,” he whispered, sliding his hand down your inner thigh, fingertips brushing over your soaked underwear, “you’re still dripping.”

You whimpered at the touch. “Draco—”

He looked at you then, properly—pale hair slightly mussed, his voice velvet-smooth, eyes molten and greedy.

“You think I’m done with you?” he asked, soft and dangerous. “You think I was going to let you just come all over my fingers and go back to revising?”

You blinked. “I—”

He leaned closer, nose brushing yours. “You earned more than that, baby.”

Your pulse jumped.

He kissed you once—hard and deep—then slid down to the floor in front of you, settling between your legs like he belonged there.

“Draco,” you gasped, fingers gripping the edge of the cushion, “what are you doing?”

“Rewarding excellence,” he said with a grin, already dragging your soaked panties down your thighs.

“Someone might come back—”

“Let them.” He pushed your legs apart with deliberate hands, firm and slow. “You want to be quiet, sweetheart, you’ll have to try really hard.”

You didn’t have time to respond—his mouth was already on you.

Warm, firm lips wrapped around your clit as his tongue swept in a slow, devastating stroke. You cried out, one hand flying to his hair, gripping tight.

“Oh my god—Draco—”

He moaned against you, and the vibration made your hips jump.

“Fuck, you taste like sin,” he muttered, voice low and wrecked. “Could spend hours here. Could make you come again and again until you beg me to stop.”

You were panting, trembling, thighs clenching around his shoulders as he buried his face deeper, tongue teasing your entrance, then dragging back up to circle your clit with maddening precision.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured. “Letting me do this to you right here, where anyone could see. You know how pretty you sound when you’re trying not to scream?”

“Draco—please—”

His hands pinned your thighs open as he sucked your clit into his mouth, harder now. Your body jolted with the pressure, another orgasm already building, sharp and desperate.

“I c-can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he rasped, licking into you again, slow and thorough. “Be good for me. Come again.”

You shattered, his words the catalyst.

You bit down a moan into the back of your hand as your entire body clenched around nothing, waves of heat crashing through you. Draco groaned like he could feel it too, never letting up, tongue still moving as you rode it out, hips twitching, chest heaving.

He pulled back only when you gasped his name again, softer this time—worn, needy.

“Look at you,” he murmured, eyes dark and glittering, licking the taste of you off his lips. “So fucking perfect like this.”

You couldn’t even speak.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smirked, and leaned forward to kiss your thigh, reverent.

He smiled. “Consider this your extra credit, darling.”

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[magical-reid]

The Ravenclaw and the Shadowed Slytherin

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Ravenclaw!Reader

Warnings: None

Prompt: 8: “I’d feel much better if you’d let me walk you home.”

Word Count: 1.9K

Summary: During a late-night patrol at Hogwarts, you unexpectedly cross paths with Sebastian Sallow, the notorious Slytherin troublemaker, who leads you to a hidden, magical room to escape the noise of the castle. As you share a quiet, vulnerable moment, you begin to see a different side of Sebastian, realizing there's more to him than his rebellious exterior, and the tension between you both deepens, hinting at something unspoken.

The chilly autumn wind swept through the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts, its cold fingers slipping through the cracks of the ancient stone walls and carrying with it the secrets only the castle seemed to know. The night air held a peculiar stillness, one that was broken only by the occasional creak of a door or the distant rustle of leaves outside. The patrol schedule for the Ravenclaw prefects had landed you with the late-night rounds again, but you didn’t mind. There was something about the castle at night that felt different—a world untouched by the chaos of daytime, where peace and mystery intertwined, and a sense of something older, something magical, seemed to linger in the air. It was eerie, in a way, but comforting all the same.

The faint glow of your wand illuminated the path ahead, its light casting long, wavering shadows on the stone floors as you turned a corner near the library. The silence of the corridors stretched out before you, broken only by the soft shuffle of your footsteps. It was almost unnerving, the way the castle could feel both alive and empty at the same time, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. You sighed, your thoughts interrupted by the faint sound of hurried footsteps from somewhere down the hallway.

You straightened, preparing yourself for another encounter with a student out past curfew. Honestly, you were used to it by now. Patrolling the castle at night often felt like a never-ending cycle of reprimands, but there was a strange satisfaction in the routine.

“Lumos Maxima,” you muttered, your wand flaring to life with a bright, steady light. It cut through the gloom, revealing the last person you expected to see: Sebastian Sallow, the notorious troublemaker from Slytherin. A smirk played at the edges of his lips, one that made you sigh before you could even stop yourself.

“Sebastian,” you said sternly, lowering your wand slightly, though the light still bathed his face in its glow. “Do you ever not break the rules?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he shot back with a glint of amusement in his dark eyes, leaning casually against the stone wall as though he didn’t have a care in the world. “Patrolling the castle at night? Sounds suspiciously like sneaking around to me.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms in a stance you knew would look perfectly authoritative. “I’m a prefect. This is literally my job, Sebastian.”

“And I’m just out for a midnight stroll. Coincidence, really,” he said, still wearing that infuriatingly confident smirk that never seemed to fade, no matter the situation.

“Coincidence, sure. What are you really up to?” You raised an eyebrow, the question slipping out before you could stop it. The tone was more curious than accusing, though you were well aware that Sebastian had a talent for getting into trouble.

He hesitated for just a fraction of a second, the playful spark in his eyes dimming slightly, as if something deeper had momentarily surfaced. “Not here,” he said, his voice suddenly a little quieter, his gaze flicking down the corridor as if checking for anyone who might overhear. “If you’re so curious, follow me.”

Your first instinct was to refuse, to stick to your patrol and keep him on track for his inevitable lecture. But there was something about the way he said it, something about the brief moment of vulnerability in his eyes, that made you hesitate. Against your better judgment, you nodded and followed him down the darkened hallway, deeper into the castle. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t a coincidence at all, but something else entirely—something that might be more dangerous than simply breaking curfew.

He led you to a hidden door near the entrance to the Undercroft. The air seemed to change as he muttered a spell, and the concealed door revealed itself to you, creaking open with a soft, almost inviting sound.

“Sebastian, if this is some sort of trick—”

“It’s not,” he cut you off, his voice a touch more serious than you were used to hearing. “Just trust me.”

You followed him into the room beyond. It was darker inside, the only light coming from a soft, ethereal glow that seemed to pulse gently from the walls. The Undercroft was rumored to be a place of quiet contemplation, a room that only a few students knew about. You’d heard whispers from other prefects, but you had never ventured inside before. As the door shut behind you, the quiet weight of the space settled around you, and for a moment, you felt almost out of place.

Sebastian turned to face you, his usual bravado replaced by something much softer, much less certain. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, the light from your wand casting shadows across his face.

“I come here to think,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter than you had ever heard it before. “Away from the noise of the common room, the expectations, everything.” His eyes, usually so full of mischief, seemed to carry a weight tonight, one that he wasn’t used to letting others see.

Your expression softened, the sternness you normally carried starting to slip away. This wasn’t the same Sebastian Sallow who loved to push everyone’s buttons. This was someone who seemed to carry more on his shoulders than he cared to admit.

“And tonight?” you asked, your voice gentler than before.

His jaw tightened as he looked down at the ground for a moment, his hand fidgeting with the sleeve of his robes. “Tonight… I needed a distraction,” he admitted, his eyes lifting to meet yours. “But instead, I ran into you.” He gave you a small, almost shy smile, the kind you hadn’t expected.

You arched an eyebrow, not sure if you were being teased again. “Is that a compliment?”

“Take it however you like, Ravenclaw,” he replied with that same teasing tone, but there was something different about it now. Less smug, more uncertain.

You couldn’t help but smile, though you didn’t quite understand the shift between you both. The air between you seemed charged, like something unspoken was hanging in the balance. It wasn’t just the late hour or the secrecy of the Undercroft anymore—it was something deeper.

The silence stretched between you two, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Instead, it was the kind of silence that made you realize just how little you actually knew about him. You found yourself studying him—really studying him—for the first time. The sharp line of his jaw, the faintest hint of a scar just beneath his ear, the way his dark eyes seemed to hold storms behind them, like there was more to him than anyone had ever bothered to look for.

“You’re not what people think you are,” you said softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

His gaze snapped to yours, surprise flickering across his face. “And what do people think I am?”

“A troublemaker. A Slytherin who only looks out for himself,” you said, your voice almost wistful as you thought of the reputation he wore like a shield.

He studied you for a long moment, as if weighing your words carefully. “And what do you think?”

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his question pressing against your chest. What did you think of him? Of the person behind the smirks and the rule-breaking? You inhaled deeply, the answer coming to you more clearly than you expected.

“I think…” You paused, gathering your thoughts carefully. “I think there’s more to you than you let on.”

His eyes softened for a fraction of a second before he stepped closer, and the space between you seemed to shrink. The tension was palpable, crackling in the air around you both like some unspoken understanding forming.

“For a Ravenclaw, you’re not half as predictable as I thought,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but there was something warm in it now.

“And for a Slytherin,” you teased, “you’re… infuriatingly charming.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you immediately regretted it. But Sebastian’s smirk returned, albeit with less edge this time. His eyes held something softer now—something that made your heart skip a beat.

“Careful, prefect,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “You’re starting to sound like you might actually like me.”

“And you’re starting to sound like you care what I think.”

Sebastian chuckled, and this time, there was no teasing bite to it. Just warmth, like a quiet acceptance that settled between you. For a moment, you both just stood there in the Undercroft, the space around you seeming to hum with a quiet magic neither of you could quite define.

“Maybe I do,” he said softly, his voice unusually sincere.

The tension that had been building between you both felt almost tangible, like a spell that had been cast but not yet broken. Neither of you moved for a long moment, the silence stretching in a way that made everything else seem insignificant. The curfew, the patrols, the rules—they didn’t matter here. It was just the two of you, standing on the edge of something neither of you could name but both of you could feel.

Finally, you spoke again, breaking the silence but not the connection. “Come on,” you said, turning toward the door. “I’ll walk you back to the dungeons before someone catches us.”

“And here I thought you’d be dragging me to the Headmaster’s office,” he teased, though the warmth in his voice was unmistakable.

“Not tonight,” you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “But don’t make a habit of it.”

He followed you, his footsteps falling in sync with yours. As you reached the door, the world outside seemed to come rushing back to you, but you didn’t want to leave the bubble you’d created together. You stopped just as you were about to step out, your breath catching in your chest. Slowly, you turned to face him again, your heart racing in a way that made you feel suddenly vulnerable.

Sebastian didn’t say anything—he just looked at you, his dark eyes searching yours. The tension between you two was unbearable now, and before either of you could speak, he closed the gap between you. His hand came up to rest gently against your cheek as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was tentative at first, as if both of you were waiting for the other to pull away. But neither of you did.

The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, as if neither of you wanted to let go of this moment. For once, the world outside didn’t matter. The rules, the house rivalries, the patrols—none of it mattered. Only this moment. Only him. Only you.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and a little dazed, Sebastian gave you a lopsided grin.

“I’m not sure that’s allowed,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

“Does it matter?” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the cool night air.

“Not tonight,” you replied softly, your heart still racing.

And as you both walked back through the quiet halls of Hogwarts, you realized that maybe, just maybe, rules weren’t the most important thing after all.

[fayes-fics]

Vignette

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: An artist meet-cute in the park.

Warnings: none... this is the fluffiest of fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

Authors Note: Anon request fill (see HERE) about Benedict and an artist having a meet-cute in the park. Unbetaed. I hope you enjoy this, Nonny, and sorry it has taken so many months! <3

A wooden toy hoop whooshing inches from your knee interrupts your quiet refuge amid the flower gardens of Regents Park, breaking your intense concentration on your drawing and almost dropping your charcoal.

Seconds later, a pretty young girl of maybe eleven years old comes running after the errant object, her plaited hair bouncing, her blush pink dress swishing around her knees as she calls out an apology to you and retrieves the hoop from the nearby bush.

“What are you doing?” she asks, her face a picture of impish inquisition as she wanders back to your bench.

“I am drawing,” you smile benevolently; something about her mischievous spirit reminds you of your nieces.

“What are you drawing?” her grin somehow infectious.

“You see those roses there?” you point with your charcoal to a nearby white alba maxima rose bush, stems almost bowing under the weight of the heavily ruffled peach-tipped petals. “Those are in peak bloom, and I am attempting to capture them, their ephemeral beauty...”

“Are you any good?” 

You chuckle at her youthful bluntness, but just as you are tilting your work towards her, you are interrupted by a man rounding into this same quiet corner. 

“Hyacinth! Please refrain from injuring and bother…” his refined voice begins to chastise but suddenly grinds to a halt mid-sentence as soon as he catches sight of you.

But he is not the only one who has lost the power of speech. 

Something vaults hard in your stomach like you are plunging down an invisible chasm. He is handsome in a way you have never seen before in your twenty years on this earth: tall, with a strong jaw and a dandyish colourful outfit that fits him very well. 

There are a few moments where all you do is stare at each other, lips parted, before he appears to shake himself a fraction and bows his head in polite greeting.

“Where are my manners? I would like to apologise for my little sister almost causing you injury, Miss. The fault is entirely mine; I should not have let her play quite so spiritedly in a public park. I-I hope you are not injured?”

“N-Not at all; the hoop merely brushed my skirt. I am more than fine,” you assure hurriedly. “Mr….?”

“Bridgerton,” he offers, nodding to you in a more formal greeting.

You would know that name anywhere—one of the most esteemed families of the Ton. You instantly know he is not the Viscount, having seen him at society events, so you surmise this must be one of his younger brothers. Before you can offer your name, however, he speaks again. 

“You draw?” 

“Oh.. yes, yes… I-I do,” you stumble, a little taken aback by his question, even as you feel his sister’s gaze volleying between the two of you with a bemused expression.

“I draw too,” he explains, placing a hand over his sternum, the sunlight catching upon a signet ring on his little finger. 

“Oh…” you seem inordinately pleased to share such a hobby with this virtual stranger.

“I also know well that charcoal fingers are an occupational hazard..” he adds cordially as he catches you attempting to wipe the dark smears upon your hands with a rag. “May I see your work? If it is not too impudent of me to ask,” he adds modestly.

“I-I am not very good…” you fret, looking down at the partial image you see on your sketch pad. “Tis merely a pastime I use to escape…”

“Believe me, Miss…?”

“Y/l/n.”

“Believe me, Miss y/l/n, it is very much the case for me too - being that I am one of eight. Including such trouble-makers as this one,” he rolls his eyes affectionately as he signals to Hyacinth, who seems to be rapidly losing interest, distractedly spinning the hoop she holds. “Escaping is almost a full-time hobby for me…” 

You cannot help but giggle at his droll humour, and he seems delighted, his face lighting up as you hide a mild blush behind the back of your hand.

“May I?” his ask is so soft you cannot do anything but acquiesce.

“‘Tis just a small vignette…” you excuse meekly as you hand over your sketchpad, suddenly so nervous to hear his opinion. You have never shared your drawings with anyone before, but something about his affable demeanour makes you bold enough to do so.

He is quiet for some time. It feels like an age, even though it is likely only a matter of seconds, but still long enough that butterflies start to roil in your stomach.

“I did say it is just a hobby…” you titter nervously, looking away.

“It is beautiful…” he exhales quietly, tone filled with admiration as your eyes ping back to him.

Your heart flutters as he extols the virtues of your work, effusively admiring your use of shading to capture shadows and the lines you have used to denote the multitudinous layers of petals, his gracious hand gesturing over the picture as he speaks.

“You flatter me entirely too much, Mr Bridgerton…” you demure, even as you feel yourself blooming under his praise, just like the flower you have painstakingly attempted to capture. A warmth in your chest that seems to radiate out to glow all over.

“I assure you I do not,” he smiles, handing you back your sketch pad.

“Benedict,” Hyacinth whines, stamping her little boot on the grass, “you said we would play…”

“I do not wish to interrupt your family time,” you placate, pleased you have learned his first name.

“Hyacinth, I am sure Eloise said something about sandwiches; you want lunch, do you not?” Benedict responds, raising a pointed brow.

“Well, yes, but…”

“Run along then,” he pulls an exasperated face at her that again has you giggling, making a shooing gesture with his hands.

She sighs but departs with a dramatic flounce.

“Sadly, I must also depart; a family picnic indeed awaits. But if I may be so bold, I would very much like for us to meet again. If you would be amendable? With a chaperone, of course,” he adds hurriedly, keen to be gentlemanly. “I think perhaps we would have much to speak of… around art. And perhaps we could… draw together? Here?”

His proposal, so sweet and straightforward, has you rendered speechless again, heart leaping at the very thought.

“I…I would like that very much,” your honest confession out of your mouth before you can swallow it.

“As would I,” his response instant, his face beaming. “Would you be here, perchance, Thursday afternoon around this same time?”

“I would…” The hitch of excitement in your own voice unmistakable.

“Excellent!” his hazy blue eyes seem to dance in the sunlight as he respectfully tilts his head again. “I am so looking forward to it, Miss y/l/n…” are his parting words before he takes his leave.

“As am I, Mr Bridgerton…” you murmur belatedly, the words shared only with the fragrant roses surrounding you, swaying gently in the afternoon breeze.

Your stare lingers where he stood long after he has left, an excited buzz over your skin at the thought you have met a kindred, artistic spirit. And one so very handsome, too.

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[suugarbabe]

Forget me not

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, broken bones

Summary: based off this ask; this will be a short series fic

Your lungs were on fire, but you kept running. Pointing your wand behind you, throwing every defensive spell you could think of toward the figure behind you. You turned down a different corridor, noticing the stone arches above you. You pointed your want toward the ceiling, still sprinting, “Bombarda Maxima!” The stone behind you came crumbling down on top of your attacker. You slowed down to a light jog, seeing an opening in a wall just big enough for you to rest and catch your breath quickly. You heard footsteps nearing and gripped your wand tightly, at this point in your life the birch wood and Phoenix feather core were an extra limb for you. The steps came closer and you did your best to press yourself into the crack in the wall. As soon as you saw a foot in your peripheral vision you muttered a quiet impedimenta, the person immediately tripping and a flash of red hair coming into your vision. 

“Ginny! Oh Merlin, I’m so sorry a death eaters been chasing me for Godric knows how long and I just-” Ginny embraced you in a hug so tight you thought she was going to crack one of your ribs. “Bloody hell, Y/n, I’m so glad to see you,” Ginny pulled away, quickly scanning over you head to toe as you did the same to her. She had some minor cuts on her face, her shirt and jeans covered in small tears and stone dust. You were sure you looked similar. “Have you seen the twins recently? Have you seen Freddie?” You tried to keep your voice from breaking as you asked. Ginny shook her head, “Not since they went with dad toward the towers.” You nodded, pushing any fear or doubt deep down inside along with any tears you feared were to spill. You heard cackling down the next corridor. Ginny grabbed your hand tightly, “We have to go.” 

You and Ginny ran, dodging falling pieces of the castle and throwing spells toward any dark smokey figure you saw in the distance. You forced down the bile that would rise in your throat any time you had to step over a dead classmate, feeling guilty every time you were relieved it wasn’t Fred. You had been blindly following Ginny, not paying attention to where she was running when you came to the steps at the bottom of the astronomy tower. You followed her halfway up the stairs before glancing out one of the stone openings. You saw a giant swinging his curved weapon, flattening a row of stone soldiers in one fell swoop. You watched briefly as an acromantula  picked up three students at once with their pincers, cutting them in half. You couldn’t hold it back this time as you stuck your head through the opening, emptying what little contents were in your stomach. 

“Y/n, are you okay?” Ginny walked back down the steps to check on you. You opened your mouth to speak when it suddenly felt like your head was going to explode. Your eyes met Ginny’s as you started to hear the gravely, burning voice of the one man everyone was fighting to defeat. You have fought valiantly…but in vain, I do not wish this, you looked back over the scene below, noticing everyone looking up at the sky,  every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat, your eyes widened and met Ginny’s again, both beginning to descend the steps quickly. Voldemort's venomous tone continued, in their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity. You both headed back the way you came, keeping an eye out for loved ones, alive or fallen. Harry Potter I now speak directly to you. On this night, you have allowed your friends to die for you, rather than face me yourself there is no greater dishonor. Your mind immediately jumped to Fred, tears brimming at the thought,  join me in the Forbidden Forest and confront your fate. If you do not do this, I shall kill every last man woman and child who tries to conceal you from me. 

The Dark Lord’s voice was gone just as quickly as it had arrived. “The Great Hall,” Ginny stated breathlessly as you continued to run behind her. “What about it?” You questioned. “That’s where they’ll bring them,” she stopped running, turning to face you as you came to a halt, “the dead. They’re going to bring them to the Great Hal-”. You were sprinting past her before she could finish, you’re mind on one thing: not seeing Fred’s lifeless body on a stretcher. You ran past damaged walls, fallen painting and Filch sweeping pieces of stone with a push broom. You entered the Great Hall, slowing to a walk to better scan the faces around you. Your breath caught in your throat when they landed on Remus and Tonks. Tears ran down your face when you noticed their arms still outstretched toward each other. 

“Y/N!” Ginny had finally caught up to you, “have you seen any of them? My family?” You shook your head, looking back toward your fallen friends in front of you. Ginny choked back sobs before both of your names began being called out. “Ginny! Y/n!” You both turned, seeing the Weasley parents running toward you. “Mum! Dad, oh thank Merlin,” Ginny spoke and the Weasleys enveloped you both in their arms. George was right behind them and you captured him in a hug quickly, nearly knocking him over, “I’m glad to see you too, duck.” You pulled back slightly, “And Freddie?” George’s face fell slightly, looking over your shoulder at his parents. You turned to them, neither able to meet your eye. You looked back towards George, seeing Charlie and Bill carrying someone on a stretcher. “No,” your voice was barely a whisper, growing louder and louder as your brain started to realize the situation, “No it can’t be, no, Freddie NO!”  

You moved to run to the stretcher but George held on to you, long arms wrapping around your waist and holding you to his chest, “Let..go of me,” you fought against him, “George let me go, let me go to him…please…I-I need to see him.” George held onto you tighter, slowly sitting down on the ground as your body seemed to go limp in his arms. You turned towards him now, burying your face in the chest of his jumper as sobs escaped you. You felt like someone was squeezing your heart tighter and tighter with each breath, “I-I can’t b-breathe…G-Georgie I c-can’t b-breathe.” George turned you to face him, placing a hand on either side of your face, he forced you to look at him. At the face that looked just like your Freddie’s. Only it wasn’t Fred, you could tell. You were always able to tell. 

By the end of week one you could tell, or at least you could tell which one of them was Fred. Both twins had a singular dimple when they smiled, on their left side; but Fred’s was just a little deeper than George. By the end of year two there were several differences, at least to you. George’s voice was slightly deeper, Fred’s part was just slightly more subtly to the left, and he had a faint beauty mark under his left eye. They both began accumulating little nics and scars on their skin as their pranks grew more extravagant as well. Fred had the smallest of scars on the bridge of his nose after running face first into the stone wall a week before Christmas holiday one year. He and Peeves had just pranked Filch, Fred forgetting that being a poltergeist allowed Peeves to escape through walls, while he just slammed into one. By the end of your sixth year they both had several more scars that helped you distinguish Fred from his twin, including a half inch scar below Fred’s right eye. It was your favorite one because it was the first time he had let you heal him at the end of year two. You had so many opportunities to heal the twins over the years Fred would joke that you should choose that as your profession. 

George tapped your cheek lightly, bringing your attention back to the present. “Y/n, did you hear me, love? Are you listening? Ginny, is there something wrong with her hearing I thought you said you checked each other?” You grabbed his face, you now holding each other, “I’m here Georgie, I can hear you, what did you say?” He swiped his thumb over your cheek, catching another tear before it fell fully, “He’s still alive, duckie. Freddie’s not dead, he’s alive. We just can’t get him to wake.” You never moved faster in your life than you did from your spot towards Fred’s body. Ginny got up, allowing you to kneel right next to him. You scanned his body, gasping as you reviewed his injuries. His left leg was clearly broken, Molly muttering mending and bandaging charms above it. He had numerous cuts and bruises along his chest and stomach, some deeper than others, edges burned black from the types of spells that created them. His right hand and several fingers broken as well, as if someone stepped on it, ceasing his ability to use his wand. His neck was beginning to bruise, you noticed his shallow breaths and checked his pulse as you ran your fingers along his jawline. His upper and low lips were split on opposite sides. What worried you the most was the gash on his forehead, just below his hairline. 

“Is he..?” You looked up to see Ron standing over you, doing his best to hold himself together. You stood up, “He’s alive, but he needs a lot of mending.” Ron did his best to smile at you, “Well then he’s in the perfect hands with you, I reckon he’s given you lots of practice.” You sniffled, nodding. You grabbed on to Ron quickly, not able to control the tears that were falling. He held onto you just as tightly. “I can’t lose him, Ron. I just can’t. I don’t think I can survive without him,” your tears soaking the shoulder of his shirt. “You’re not going to lose him, just stay with him. Do what you do best for him.” You pulled back, wiping your face with the palms of your hands as Hermione sprinted up to your group, “Harry went into the Forest, I-I couldn’t stop him. Luna said she saw Voldemort and the rest of the death eaters walking back toward the castle. They’re leading Hagrid with ropes like an animal. And he’s…” she trailed off, looking over at Ginny. “He’s what, Hermione,” you asked her, snapping her back to the present. “He was carrying someone.”

Ginny started running out of the hall. “Arthur!” Molly pointed towards Ginny; Athur and the older boys followed after her. Hermione and Ron followed quickly after that. You stayed with Fred, Molly staying as well not able to leave her injured son. You took your wand from your pocket, hands hovering over Fred’s stomach, “Vulnera Sanentur.” His cuts started to slowly close. You waved your want over his right hand, “Episkey.” The bones in his hands and fingers snapped back to their rightful place and a mild groan left Fred’s throat, yet he remained unconscious. You leaned down, placing a soft kiss to his cheek before whispering to him, “I’m sorry, Freddie. I know you’re hurting. You are so strong, love. So very strong. I love you so much.” You sat up straight at the sound of cheering just outside the castle. You and Molly made eye contact, silently wondering to each other which side was celebrating. You continued waving your wand over Fred slowly, repeating incantations as you started to feel the energy of both powerful and dark magic around you. 

Several death eaters burst into the great hall, the remaining witches and wizards now defending the injured and helpless around them. “You stay with Fred,” Molly kissed the top of your head and she ran to join the others. You continued working over your boyfriend, glancing up periodically to cast a protection bubble around the two of you every few minutes. You glanced up again, noticing Molly going toe to toe with Bellatrix. The dark witch glanced in your and Fred’s direction, tongue running along her dirty, blackened teeth. Molly then threw a curse at her, Bella deflecting it. But Molly didn’t stop, she went again and again, hitting Bellatrix with a stunning spell, then a tightening spell that caused her corset to squeeze her nearly in half. Molly finished her off with one last curse, hitting Bellatrix directly in the chest causing her to disintegrate into bits. A blood curdling scream erupted from outside the castle, followed by an eruption of cheers. 

You looked down, running your finger tips over your favorite scar across his cheek, “You hear that Freddie, I think he did it. He beat him. We won, Freddie.” Molly joined you again, followed by Arthur and Charlie. “There’s one more thing to try and wake him, but it’s going to take the four of us to make it powerful enough. Do you think you can do it, darling, do you still have the energy?” Molly was looking at you. You nodded, “Anything.” She hovered her wand over her son, you, Arthur and Charlie doing the same. “The reviving spell, on three.” Arthur counted down, “One…two…three.” You waved your wand as the four of you said it simultaneously Rennervate. You could feel the magic burst from your wand, like it was coming straight from your veins and into Fred. You all sat back, waiting to see any signs of further life. You felt a hand on your waist, trying to grasp on to the bottom of your shirt. You looked down, seeing the hand you had healed just an hour before. “Oh thank Godric,” you held his hand in yours and he squeezed back tightly. 

His eyes suddenly opened, a deep gasp escaping his throat as he went to sit up quickly. Arthur and Charlie pushed him back down, holding either shoulder, “It’s alright son, you’re alright. Just breathe. You’re still going to be in quite a bit of pain but Y/n and your mother have healed you well.” You smiled as the tears fell, you were so happy you thought you could burst. The men let Fred sit up on his elbows to glance at the scene around him. He looked at each face of his family members before stopping at yours. You grabbed his hand once more, “How do you feel, Freddie? What still hurts?” He sighed, “I mean everything kind of, but it’s a dull pain. But…I do have a question.” George kneeled down next to his twin, “Anythin’, mate, what is it? You want something to eat? Some fire whiskey to take the edge off?” Fred shook his head, you imagined a million different things he could have asked you all, but nothing could have prepared you for the gut wrenching feeling you got when he made eye-contact with you again before asking,

“W-who are you guys?”

[in1-nutshell]

TFA Maxima

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Angst, Cybertronian reader

TFA

Optimus found Maxima as a sparkling in a crate outside the Academy.

Sparkling’s were extremely rare, especially those that didn’t need molds.

He didn’t have the spark to leave the bean outside.

The sparkling looked dull and in desperate need of cleansing and fuel.

He figured that he could sneak the little thing just for the night and go find a proper sparkling center the next day.

He was almost immediately found by Elita and Sentinel.

Optimus was coming out of the private cleaning station in his room with a newly washed and fed sparkling. …Just as Elita and sentinel entered. Elita: “…” Sentinel: “…” Optimus: “…” The sparkling chirps happily. Optimus pulls the bean closer. Optimus: “…Hi—” Elita shuts the door immediately and locks it. Sentinel: “Optimus that’s not what I think it is right?” Optimus: “Listen—” Elita: “Oh, we’re listening!” Optimus: “I found her dirty and with almost no fuel in her system right outside the Academy. You two and I know how rare sparklings are. Do you think I was going to let her stay out there.” Sentinel: “Why not drop her off at one of those sparkling centers? It solves this problem.” Elita slaps Sentinel in the back of the helm as Optimus unconsciously brings the babbling sparkling closer to him frowning. Optimus: “It’s just for one night.” Elita turns and smiles at the sparkling. Carefully waving a couple digits in her direction, smiling wider at the heartfelt giggles. Elita: “Oh no, she is staying.” Optimus: “She is just staying for a night Elita.” Elita: “Sure. I bet 20 shanix that you fail before the morning.” Sentinel: “Elita please.” Optimus: “Thank you—” Sentinel: “I give it in the morning.” Optimus: “How am I friends with either of you?” Later that night… Optimus is on his side, one of his digits being curled around one of the sparkling’s servos. She was sleeping soundly with a peaceful look on her faceplate. Like she knew she was safe. … What if her new family didn’t make her feel safe? What if she was in danger there? What if they didn’t clean her well? What if Maxima cried if he left her? Wait… Maxima? Optimus sighs gently as the sparkling started rolling over until she was tucked under his chin. Optimus: “…Guess I owe Elita that shanix huh, Maxima?”

Given that little Maxima wasn’t supposed to be on Academy grounds, it was up to Elita, Optimus and Sentinel to make sure that she was hidden.

There were careful scheduling rotations in place during the first few years.

But once Maxima got old enough to understand instructions, she was left in small amounts of time alone.

Optimus didn’t like leaving her alone in the habsuite, but there was only so much he could do without seeming suspicious.

Optimus provided Maxima with fueling, a safe place to rest, plenty of old data pads with safe material to read, little moments to teach her how to read and of course, spending time with her.

Maxima and Optimus just finished reading a story for bedtime. Maxima: “Another one!” Optimus: “Maxi, you know it’s time for recharge.” She tried to run, but the Prime was quicker and easily caught her. Maxima pouts as he tucks her in her smaller makeshift berth. Maxima: “Just you wait! Soon I’ll be even bigger than you and then I can recharge whenever I want!” Optimus chuckles a bit, lovingly patting her helm as her optics slowly closed. Optimus: “That’ll be the day. Night Maxi.” Maxima yawned. Maxima: “Night Dad.” Optimus ‘I am not crying you are’ Prime: “Good night.”

So, as you might see, Optimus was running off of fumes.

In enter Uncle Sentinel and Auntie Elita.

Sentinel took it on himself to make sure his honorary niece had a backstrut and confidence her father needed to build.

In a way, this would work a bit too well.

Especially after finding out, he and her father had a bit of a friendly competition between them.

Maxima: “Uncle Sentinel, I want another story!” Sentinel: “Sorry kiddo that’s a no.” Maxima: “But—” Sentinel: “No.” Maxima: “… Dad reads more stories than you do.” Sentinel’s optic twitches. Sentinel: “…How many more stories you have?” Maxima was already pulling out 15 extra data pads from her sub space. Maxima: “Lots!”

Elita took almost as big a parental role as Optimus had.

Out of the three of them, she had the most knowledge on sparkling care and did most of the delivery runs during the first few years.

Since she wasn’t going for the Prime status, Elita had a bit more time on her hands to babysit Maxima.

It is also important to know that Optimus did not want to start training Maxima until she was of age.

Elita took this as a suggestion and instead started teaching her niece how to fight from an early age.

Maxima kept the secret because it was her fun time with her aunt.

Optimus was not happy hearing what was happening.

Sentinel just watching this from afar.

Optimus: “Elita you crossed the line! You know I don’t want her fighting yet.” Elita: “She’s going to need to learn how to fight Optimus, I’m just making sure she has a better time when she has to enter into the Academy.” Optimus: “You don’t even know if she’s going to be a part of the Academy.” Sentinel: “Umm guys…” Elita: “Look at her Optimus, she’s practically lived in the walls for years. I would be surprised if she didn’t join.” Sentinel: “Guys—” Optimus: “Maxima is not—” Sentinel: “Guys!” Elita and Optimus: “What!?” Sentinel: “Where is Maxima?” Elita, Optimus and Sentinel look around and quickly realize that the little one was nowhere to be found. Meanwhile… Magnus is sitting in his office watching this little youngling reenact some of the battles he had fought, using spare cubes and dubbing them as Decepticons.

Yes, Magnus did end up finding out about Maxima.

Now, under normal circumstances, he might have had the sparkling sent to a center and expelled those involved.

But Maxima surprised him with her vast knowledge of the Autobot codes, battles and executing beginner battle moves with extreme precision.

This here was a Prime in the making.

Maxima just wanted to show someone else what she could do, and who else than one of her greatest heroes!

Optimus, Sentinel and Elita were soon called down to Magnus’s office, paling at the sight of little Maxima in his arms happily telling him how many evil Cons she would bring to justice when she was older.

Optimus never felt so much tension leaving his frame the second Magnus told him that Maxima was allowed to stay, even giving some formal education.

However, at the price that she would continue to fight for the Elita Guard.

It didn’t take long for most of the Academy to get the news of a youngling staying.

While there were some bots that utterly distained the fact there was a sparkling running around, most bots found the energetic cutie to be nice.

Some even came up and offered to help with watching her while the others took special classes and exams.

They of course had to go through a three bot check list before any watching would start, but those trusted were an often go to during these times.

For the next couple of years, everything seemed good.

Maxima would be starting her official Academy try outs in a few years and she would be doing it with her family watching with Ultra Magnus himself.

It was the perfect plan.

The came the day of Archa 7.

Maxima remembered that day.

She had hugged her father, Aunt and uncle goodbye as she was left in the care of ‘Grandpa’ Kup.

Maxima didn’t think to ask too many questions at the time, she just thought they needed some time to do something fun after those heavy exams.

Besides, what was she worried about?

Those three bots were some of the smartest and strongest bots she knew.

Plus, Kup had the best war stories!

She should have known something had gone wrong the moment their ship had arrived 5 minutes late.

Her father was always punctual, this was unsettling.

Even more so when she heard that the ship had arrived and none of them came to get her.

Maxima was with Kup when the door opened. It was Sentinel. Maxima: “Sentinel!” She ran up and hugged him tightly. Something was wrong. He wasn’t hugging back and looked… destroyed. Maxima looked at him worried. Maxima: “Uncle? Where’s dad and auntie.” He visibly flinched that their names. Kup carefully placed a servo on her shoulder. Kup: “Maxima—” She spotted a familiar red and blue paintjob through the crack of the door. It was her father. Maxima: “Dad!” She ran out of the room and straight into her father. Arms tightly grasping his waist. Maxima: “Thank the Allspark your—Dad?” Maxima had never seen such a look of devastation on her father���s face. The fact that he wasn’t hugging either just made matters worse. Maxima: “Dad, what happened to Sentinel? And where’s Elita?” No response. Maxima: “Dad? Dad your scaring me. What happened?” Suddenly several pairs of servo grabbed her back and arms, quite literally ripping her from her father. Maxima: “Hey! Let me go! Dad! Dad help!” Optimus didn’t even look at her and continued walking away. Maxima: “Dad! Dad!? Dad! DAD! WHAT’S GOING ON! DAD!” A familiar set of arms quickly wrapped her in a tight hug. Maxima just cried out of fear and confusion into her uncle’s chassis.

As Optimus had taken the responsibility of going to the organic planet, not only was he kicked out of the Academy, but he was no longer allowed to make any sort of contact with maxima.

The Prime, as much as it hurt, felt like this was the punishment he deserved.

But he still regretted not hugging Maxima on that day.

Every part of him wanted to run back the moment Maxima started screaming.

It wouldn’t be until later that Sentinel would sit down and tell the story of how her father was responsible for her Aunt getting killed.

Maxima couldn’t believe it.

Not her father.

Not Optimus.

No, this had to be some sort of mistake, a misunderstanding!

She even begged Magnus to reopen the case, but it fell to deaf audials.

Maxima lost two of the most important figures that day.

Her dear Auntie Elita and her Father.

Sentinel soon enough had taken Maxima under his care and made sure that she did good.

Maxima would soon be drilled with the same sentence that would echo throughout the rest of her Academy years.

Give a better name for the Prime’s than what Optimus did to tarnish it.

Maxima had not only passed her entrance exams with flying colors, but even placed in high rankings that would have taken her years to get to.

Sentinel was proud of his niece for making such a big name for herself.

Sentinel and Maxima are walking down the line of bootcamp recruiters. The recruits were just surprised to see a much bigger bot following Sentinel. Sentinel: Attention recruits!” The recruits straighten up. Sentinel: “Today accompanying me is a prime example of what putting in work and grind can get you. A couple years from now she will be the youngest bot to be accepted into the rank of Prime’s.” Maxima just looks over the looks of awe and admiration. Maxima: “it is a pleasure to meet you all and hope to be working with you all in the future.” She notices the small yellow bot and the larger green bot that she had seen earlier getting picked on. Maxima: “Some words of wisdom.” The recruits give their attention to her. Maxima: “We are all great in our own fields. You may not seem like Prime material now, but I have no doubt that each and every one of you are more than meets the eye.” Maxima straightens up a bit, even giving a bit of a smile to the yellow and green bot. Maxima: “Good luck, you’ll be needing it.”

It was times like these were Sentinel hated and loved that part of her father shown.

The bot sure did have a way with words of encouragement and reading.

And true to the Prime’s word, Maxima was on the way to becoming a Prime.

All she needed to do was serve under her uncle’s command a little while longer and then it would be a matter of time before the Prime title would be up for grabs.

As much as Maxima loved her uncle, she hated how entitled he act towards others.

Half of the time she found herself becoming a translator for what harsh things he was yelling.

Being placed in Sentinel’s team wasn’t the worst thing though.

She got along quite well with Jazz and Blurr.

Both giving a bit of room to show her more expressive side.

The Jettwins were like some little brothers she never knew.

It also helped that she had the energy to keep up with them, on the ground at least.

Maxima, herself, had made it her position to be the team’s strength.

Being the tallest, biggest and strongest got you into that position.

Maxima was in her seat as the ship descended. She looked over at Sentinel and Ultra Magnus. This was one of the weirder and suspicious missions that she had gone on. Not only was she left with little information about the planet and whatever repair crew needed saving, but she was also given explicit instructions by Sentinel not to leave the ship. Maxima: “Jazz, what do you think is outside? You really think the whole Allspark and Decepticon thing is real?” Jazz: “Don’t know Maxi. I’m just hoping that whatever SP said about the acid organics isn’t true.” Maxima shudders a bit. Maxima: “Yeah, let’s hope so… Did you try your alt mode yet? I found one that looks more of my style.” Jazz: “Absolutely, show me!”

[lovelyverosika]

Hellfire

Implied Hazbin Hotel! Adam x Fem!Sinner!reader

Warning: mention of blood,lust and death

A/N: Here’s a short one-shot based on the song "Hellfire" from the hunchback of Notre Dame. I thought this will be very suitable for this sinner!reader scenario.

3rd POV:

Last Extermination a simple sinner caught the eyes of the first man Adam. She was really quick and escaped his gasp by pure luck. For one moment he was distracted by her "sinful" body, the perfect chance for her to escape. Of course Adam wouldn’t just let her go, he wanted every dirty sinner dead. She not only managed to trick him but also to hurt him with her claws, the scratch marks on his back were still bleeding as he got back from the extermination. Anger was not the only thing he felt towards that demon, he also felt a certain kind of lust for her, which disgusts him. She was a dirty sinner who belongs under his feet begging for mercy before he kills her regardless of her pathetic cries. So why does he feels this heat growing within his body? Why could he still feel her touch on his body, the way her claws dig deep into his back while her shaky breath reached his skin? The beautiful tears streaming down her cheeks as she fought for her life. With a frustrated groan he took off his robe and let Lute clean up his wounds. After he dismissed her and locked himself in his office, he fell into some kind of trance, locked inside his mind as he sang:

"Beata, oh Sera,

You know I am the first man of my power I am justly proud.

Beata, oh Sera,

You know I’m so much purer than the disgusting, vulgar, weak licentious sin.

{Quia peccavi nimis}

Then tell me, oh Sera.

Why I see her standing there?

Why her pathetic eyes still scorch my soul?

{Cogitatione}

I feel her,", he hugged himself, feeling the marks she left on him. "I see her.", a fiery illusion of her appears in front of him.

"The light caught in her h/c hair, is blazing me out of all control.

{Verbo et opere}

Like fire…

Hell fire…

This fire in my skin.

This burning desire is turning me to sin.", the room got darker only the illusion of the sinner crawling closer to him as he turns around bringing a fiery light into his office.

"It’s not my fault {Mea culpa}

I’m not to blame {Mea culpa}

It’s the sinner girl…the demon who set this flame! {Mea maxima culpa}

It’s not my fault if in destinies plan, it made the devil so much stronger than the man.", he tries to wrap his arms around the illusion as she banished into thin air.

"Protect me, oh Sera.

Don’t let this siren cast her spell. Don’t let her fire seal my flesh and bone.

Destroy this dirty sinner!

And let her taste the fire of death or else let her be mine and mine alone.", he looked into the mirror in his office.

"Hellfire, dark fire…now sinner it will be your turn. Chose me or your pyre. Be mine or you will burn!

Oh, have mercy on her.

Oh, have mercy on me.

But she will be mine or she will burn!", he finishes as he fell to his knees.

"Next year I’m coming back for you…just be prepared. I’ll have you even if I have to break the principles and drag you up heaven myself. And if you refuse I’ll have your head as a trophy.", he said with a grin.

Suddenly there was a knock on his door. He stood up and opened the door. There was Lute standing in front of him, she heard it all. "What is it?", he groaned. "Nothing, sir, just checking up on you like the Seraphim asked me to."

Taglist: @kelppsstuff @hobbylobbyy @n3r0-1417 @lilteamushroom @l0vedi3n

[stellaronhvnters]

STELLAWEEN FEST : PUMPKIN PATCH 🎃official masterlist of phase one of the stellaween festival! come & explore our members stunning pieces based on our prompts <3

ARGYROSPERMA! [ count. 12 members ] — format (writers) : prompt name + link & title + author — format (artists) : prompt name + link + artist

scarecrow : “a deciduous thing” by @tragedy-of-commons { scarecrow!boothill x gn!farmer!reader }

Never in your life did you think that your peaceful day-to-day would grind to a halt after one of your scarecrows comes to life. Apparently, his name is Boothill, and he's insistent on making your life 10x harder than it has to be.

dracula : “drink my love, keep my blood” by @akutasoda { dracula! argent x gn! reader }

zombie : “die with a smile” by @milksnake-tea

In every zombie apocalypse, there's always one who is immune to the infection. And Blade, it seems, is the unlucky one who has to carry that burden. { blade x gn! reader }

doppelgänger : “jekyll and hide” by @mitsvriii

when your boyfriend starts acting oddly, you believe that something may be wrong with him. only to find out that the "oddness" came from a product of something else entirely... { yingxing x reader! }

doppelgänger : “insights from a twin stranger” by @https-sourlimes

curiosity brings you into a situation of encountering a supernatural phenomenon – a doppelganger of your pain-in-the-ass rival – which reveals interesting thoughts of his regarding you. { alhaitham x gn!reader }

vampire : “too sweet” by @mikashisus

it's halloween, and your plans with your best friend are cut short. arlecchino, your intimidating yet friendly neighbor, asks you for a favor, which eventually leads to a startling confession. { lyney x vampire!fem!reader }

phantom : “at the end of everything, hold onto anything” by @mikashisus

fall in possum springs has returned, and with it, your ex-boyfriend. somehow... despite how long it's been, he's still the same... while you are not. { kazuha x gn!reader }

vampire : “trick or… tricked?” by @lowkeyren

you save a strikingly handsome vampire, not knowing he would get attached to you in more ways than one. { aventurine x gn! reader }

supernatural + phantom : “blood-scented rose” by @ughscara { black swan x reader! }

scarecrow + witch : “to my name, to the hills” by @mikashisus

he showed up in your dreams like a phantom, and left your life as quick as the breeze that brought him to you. but nothing could have prepared you for the way his presence lingered even long after he was gone. { kazuha x reader! }

skeletons : “an eye for an eye” by @theother-victoria

what happens when you stick your nose where it doesn't belong? { dr ratio x reader! }

vampire : “lovely-eyed & death-touched” by @yuomizuu

death lurks among the shadows of this city that has long since been plagued by deadly creatures of the night. you never thought you’d ever come across one of them yourself… much less interrogate one that could easily take you under his command. { sethos x reader! }

dolls by @rainswept

MAXIMA! [ count. 8 members ]

matching costumes by @tetrachrxmacy

matching costumes : “silly halloween costumes” by @kazuhaiku

you and moze go on a date while in search for some halloween costumes to wear. { moze x gn! reader }

matching costumes : “to steal a heart” by @synqiri { neuvillette x reader! }

corn mazes : “what a stand up guy!” by @staarri

neuvillette’s ideal way of “making up” to you is going to a corn maze. you’re deathly afraid of mazes. (and spooky things in general.) { neuvillette x reader! }

matching costumes by @k4saneterritory

foliage : “gilded” by @scribs-dibs { sunday x reader! }

rent-a-cabin : “a vacation turned horror” by @singularity-sam { ft. ghost hunting squad }

[floraliike]

𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖋𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘

*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

Draco Malfoy x reader | slow burn, fluff

Chapter 2: Best Laid Plans and Unexpected Sparks

Draco

The Christmas Ball was two months away, a shimmering distraction from the usual school year.

Me, a chaperone.

Honestly, it was a good excuse to remain at Hogwarts during the holidays, away from the Manor and its ghosts. And perhaps, just perhaps, it meant more interactions with a certain shy Potions Teacher. I still replayed that karaoke night in my head, her blushes, her sudden departure.

She really doesn't like me.

The thought still stung, a persistent dull ache.

My thoughts were interrupted one evening when Leo, Aisha, and Elara accosted me in the corridor, looking far too innocent.

"Professor Malfoy," Elara began, "we think there's a... a magical anomaly in the Astronomy Tower. Could you perhaps investigate?"

A magical anomaly. Right.

I could practically smell the mischief.

They reminded me so much of... them. Potter, Weasley, Granger. And for the first time, the memory didn't bring that old knot of resentment. Instead, it was a quiet warmth, a surprising fondness for their misguided but persistent loyalty.

I humored them. "Lead the way, then."

They practically skipped to the Astronomy Tower, and just as I ascended the final steps, I heard a loud clunk. The door slammed shut behind me.

"Colloportus Maxima!" Leo's muffled voice, triumphant, came through the thick wood.

Trapped.

Moments later, I heard a soft gasp behind me.

"(Y/N)."

She was standing there, looking flustered, her dark hair already pulled up, a book clutched in her hands. Gods, she looked lovely even when startled. Her scent, something like warm parchment and rainforest blooms, drifted to me.

"Professor Malfoy? What… what are you doing here?"

"It seems we're both victims of a rather poorly executed prank, Professor," I said, a dry smirk touching my lips. "The Gryffindors seem to think this tower holds some 'magical anomaly.' And apparently, they thought you'd be interested too."

Her eyes widened. "Oh. Right." She still looked embarrassed.

"Don't worry," I said, a slight wave of my hand. My voice, I noticed, was softer than I intended. "A simple Alohomora will suffice." I aimed my wand. The lock clicked. "Or, for something more dramatic, a basic Reducto." I gestured to the door. "Care for a walk back to the common room?"

She managed a small, tentative smile. "Yes, please."

We walked in silence for a few moments.

Well, that was a bust, I thought.

They had her trapped with me, and she still seemed uncomfortable. Still, I got to see her up close. She really is stunning.

(Y/N)

The Astronomy Tower.

Of all the places.

One evening, after finishing some grading, I’d been tricked into going up there by Leo Thomas, who claimed he'd 'lost' his telescope lens. A blatant lie, I knew now, as the door slammed shut and a loud clunk echoed.

"Colloportus Maxima!"

And then, I saw him.

Professor Malfoy.

My heart leaped into my throat. Of course he's here.

The students probably think we're dating already, with all the whispers. Now they've actually locked us in together.

My cheeks flamed.

"Professor Malfoy? What… what are you doing here?" I managed, my voice a little breathless. His scent, a sophisticated blend of expensive cologne and something subtly academic, filled the small space. He looked even better up close, those grey eyes sharp and intelligent.

"It seems we're both victims of a rather poorly executed prank, Professor," he said, a dry smirk touching his lips. He looked amused, not annoyed, which somehow made it worse. He's not even bothered to be locked in here with me. "The Gryffindors seem to think this tower holds some 'magical anomaly.' And apparently, they thought you'd be interested too."

My cheeks burned hotter.

Oh, Merlin.

They really are trying to set us up. "Oh. Right."

"Don't worry," he said, and with a simple wave of his wand, the door clicked open. "Care for a walk back to the common room?"

I managed a small, shy smile. "Yes, please."

The walk back was quiet. I was acutely aware of his presence beside me. My embarrassment over the students' scheme warred with a small, secret disappointment that nothing more had come of it.

But then, what did I expect?

He’d just let us out immediately. He clearly wasn’t interested in being trapped with me.

Draco

The students, however, were nothing if not persistent.

A few days later, Professor Longbottom approached me during breakfast. "Draco, I'm organizing the annual Hogsmeade student outing for next weekend. It requires four chaperones. Professor (Y/N) has kindly agreed to be one. I was hoping you might volunteer as well?" He had that knowing twinkle in his eye.

I sighed inwardly.

Longbottom was usually sharper than this. "Of course, Neville," I replied smoothly. "Always happy to assist." I'd noticed students, particularly my mischievous trio, hanging around Longbottom's office lately. They must have put him up to it.

Determined little devils, aren't they?

On the day of the outing, my suspicions were confirmed.

When we arrived in Hogsmeade, (Y/N) and I found ourselves splitting the students: she took the group heading to Honeydukes and Zonko's, while I was tasked with the ones wanting to explore Scrivenshaft's and Madam Puddifoot's.

We were to meet for lunch.

During lunch at the Three Broomsticks, the groups merged. (Y/N) and I ended up sitting across from each other.

"It's been quite a busy few weeks, hasn't it?" she said, her eyes twinkling slightly. "The students have been... rather keen about the Christmas Ball."

"Indeed," I agreed, taking a sip of my pumpkin juice. "I've had several fourth-years approach me for advice on asking out their classmates. Almost as if they'd been, ah, encouraged to do so."

"Professor Malfoy," a fifth-year Ravenclaw girl, Astoria, piped up from my group, "if two professors were... say, chaperoning a ball together, and they really liked each other, how would they, you know, know it?"

I nearly choked on my pumpkin juice.

Subtle, Astoria, truly subtle.

I met (Y/N)'s eyes, a nervous flush creeping up her neck.

"Well," I cleared my throat, "I suppose they would pay close attention to how they feel when that person is near. Do they make you feel comfortable? Do they make you laugh? Do you find yourself seeking out their company?" I looked at (Y/N), holding her gaze. "And most importantly, do they make you feel like a better version of yourself?"

(Y/N)'s blush deepened, but she held my gaze, a soft, almost vulnerable expression on her face.

Giggles from a few tables over caught my attention. I glanced at the table where Leo, Aisha, and Elara were huddled, watching us like hawks. They quickly averted their gaze, feigning intense interest in their treacle tarts.

A small, hopeful spark ignited within me. Perhaps this clumsy matchmaking wasn't entirely wasted.

"As you just saw, professor," I said to (Y/N), my eyes looking forward to her again. "Students are relentless in their pursuits of finding a date to the ball. I've been giving advice left and right these last days"

"Oh, me too!" she chuckled, a soft, pleasant sound. "Especially the girls. They’ve asked for all sorts of advice. You'd be surprised how much they confide in me."

"I wouldn't be," I said, my voice softer than I intended, meeting her gaze once more. "They seem to trust you implicitly."

Her cheeks flushed even more, and she looked down at her plate. But that blush… it wasn't from embarrassment this time.

It was warmer.

She was blushing. And it wasn't because she disliked me.

The thought was dizzying, a jolt of pure hope.

(Y/N)

Being a chaperone for the Hogsmeade outing wasn't quite what I expected.

Professor Malfoy and I were on opposite ends of the village for most of the morning, only meeting for lunch at the Three Broomsticks. We ended up across from each other, surrounded by the hubbub of happy students.

"It's been quite a busy few weeks, hasn't it?" I started, feeling more at ease with him than I had been. "The students have been... rather keen about the Christmas Ball."

"Indeed," he replied, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. "I've had several fourth-years approach me for advice on asking out their classmates. Almost as if they'd been, ah, encouraged to do so."

"Professor Malfoy," a fifth-year Ravenclaw girl, Astoria, piped up from his group, "if two professors were... say, chaperoning a ball together, and they really liked each other, how would they, you know, know it?"

My blood ran cold.

My blush intensified.

Oh, Astoria, please stop.

I shot a quick, panicked glance at Draco, who, to my surprise, looked calm, almost thoughtful.

"Well," he cleared his throat, "I suppose they would pay close attention to how they feel when that person is near. Do they make you feel comfortable? Do they make you laugh? Do you find yourself seeking out their company?" He looked at me, his grey eyes piercing, and I felt a jolt go through me. "And most importantly, do they make you feel like a better version of yourself?"

My breath hitched.

His words resonated deep within me, making my heart thump. I was sure he could hear it.

He looked pointedly at the Gryffindor trio, who suddenly seemed engrossed in their treacle tarts. I almost giggled.

They were plotting. I could feel my cheeks warm.

"As you just saw, professor," He said, my eyes meeting his again. "Students are relentless in their pursuits of finding a date to the ball. I've been giving advice left and right these last days"

I forced myself to respond, too engrossed in his grey eyes. "Oh, me too!" I chuckled, a soft, pleasant sound. "Especially the girls. They’ve asked for all sorts of advice. You'd be surprised how much they confide in me."

"I wouldn't be," he said, his voice softer than I intended, his gaze holding mine. "They seem to trust you implicitly."

I looked down, trying to hide the furious blush I knew was spreading across my face.

But his words... he made me feel something I hadn't felt in a long time.

Hope.

Draco

That evening, during dinner in the Great Hall, I saw the Gryffindor trio huddled again, muttering conspiratorially. They were clearly plotting their next move.

I found myself walking over to their table, a smirk playing on my lips. My confidence, fueled by the memory of (Y/N)'s blush at lunch, was growing.

"I hope you three aren't plotting to get me locked in the Astronomy Tower again," I said, my voice low enough not to draw undue attention. "Or sending me on any more long walks around the village?"

Their faces went from mischievous to comically shocked. Aisha gasped, Leo choked on his pumpkin juice, and even Elara looked momentarily stunned.

"Professor Malfoy! We... we don't know what you mean," Leo stammered.

"Don't you?" I raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement in my eyes. "Just know that while your intentions are... transparent, your execution leaves much to be desired. Perhaps next time, try something less… obvious."

I walked away, leaving them utterly flummoxed.

It was surprisingly satisfying.

Right. If they can't manage it, I'll have to.

That blush at lunch wasn't dislike.

It was… something else.

Something good.

I need to figure out what.

(Y/N)

The weeks leading up to the ball were a whirlwind of activity. Professor Longbottom, ever the enthusiast, organized castle-wide decorations. I found myself helping, enchanted by the magic used to conjure wreaths of mistletoe and shimmering icicles.

One afternoon, as I was charming a garland to float above the staircase, Professor Malfoy approached, rolling up his sleeves.

"Need a hand, Professor (Y/N)?" he offered. "Some of these older charms can be tricky."

"Oh, Professor Malfoy!" I startled, my heart doing that familiar little jump. "Yes, please. They're heavier than they look."

Other students were helping too, and soon the Great Hall was beginning to sparkle.

Later, I decided to head to the kitchens.

I missed the smell of home-baked goods, and I thought the students would appreciate some warmth amidst the holiday preparations.

"I'm going to help the house-elves bake some Christmas cookies for the students, to go with warm cocoa," I announced to the few professors still decorating.

"Sounds delightful," Professor Malfoy said, surprising me by following. "Mind if I assist? Might be useful to learn what goes on down here."

In the bustling kitchens, surrounded by cheerful house-elves, Draco Malfoy – the Draco Malfoy – actually helped.

He carefully measured out flour, stirred dough, and even chuckled when a house-elf named Pip squeaked with delight at a perfectly formed gingerbread man. It was a stark contrast to the pureblood upbringing I imagined, where he probably never lifted a finger or exchanged a kind word with a house-elf.

As he reached for a bowl, he accidentally brushed his arm against a cloud of flour, leaving a white smudge on his black shirt.

"Oh, Professor! You've got flour all over your shirt!" I exclaimed, reaching out instinctively.

He glanced down, then laughed, a genuine, unburdened sound that made my breath catch. "Just a bit of holiday spirit, I suppose."

Before I could even think of a cleaning charm, Pip, the house-elf, zipped forward with a squeak, waving his little hand. The flour vanished.

"Thank you, Pip," Draco said, a polite, genuine smile on his face. Pip preened with pride.

I was utterly impressed.

He was… truly changed.

Our eyes met, and for a long moment, the warmth between us was almost palpable.

Later that evening, after the cookies were devoured, Clara and I organized a Christmas movie night in the Great Hall.

It was packed with students, all wrapped in blankets, sipping cocoa.

The movie?

The Grinch.

As the Grinch's shriveled heart began to grow three sizes, a Ravenclaw fifth-year suddenly piped up, "He really grew a heart, didn't he? Just like some people."

I glanced at Draco, who was sitting a few feet away, sipping his cocoa. His head subtly tilted towards the student, and then he looked at me.

Our eyes met, and a silent, knowing moment passed between us.

The student's comment hung in the air, a subtle, almost humorous observation on his own journey.

He's really changed, isn't he? I thought, watching him. Not just the arrogant boy from the war, but someone kind, capable, funny even.

The way he was with Pip, the way he looks at me sometimes... My heart beat a little faster.

Could I really be brave enough?

Could I ever tell him how I feel?

He makes me feel braver than I ever thought possible, just by being himself.

Draco

The movie ended, and students began dispersing to their dorms, still buzzing from the cocoa and the movie.

(Y/N) and I found ourselves walking together towards the Teachers' Lounge, the Great Hall mostly empty now.

"That was... surprisingly enjoyable," I admitted, a genuine smile on my face.

"It was," she agreed, her voice soft. "It's nice to see them so relaxed."

We stopped just outside the lounge door. The corridor was quiet, bathed in the gentle glow of enchanted lanterns. Her scent, a subtle mix of cinnamon and something floral, was intoxicating, pulling me closer.

I looked at her, truly looked at her.

Her hair was down now, framing her face, and the red lipstick on her lips seemed to beckon me.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

She’s not running.

She’s still here.

And she looked at me during the Grinch comment.

She knows.

She sees me.

I took a small step closer, then another.

My hand, almost of its own accord, lifted, hesitant, towards her face. Her eyes fluttered, not in fear, but something else. Anticipation?

She leaned in, just slightly.

I could feel her breath.

We were about to kiss.

This was it.

"Professor Malfoy! Professor (Y/N)! We need your help!"

The voices shattered the moment.

Leo, Aisha, and Elara burst around the corner, looking distraught. Elara's hair was disheveled, and Leo was practically wringing his hands.

My hand dropped.

I groaned inwardly. "What is it now, you three?" I asked, trying to keep the irritation from my voice.

"It's... it's a house-elf uprising in the kitchens!" Leo wailed. "They're demanding extra dessert rations!"

"And Professor Dumbledore's portrait has gone missing!" Aisha added dramatically.

"And… and Professor Binns' ghost is singing carols in the dungeons!" Elara finished, clearly making something up on the spot.

I stared at them, then at (Y/N), who looked utterly bewildered.

This was their final, desperate, and utterly pathetic attempt.

(Y/N)

I was about to kiss Draco Malfoy.

My heart was pounding, his hand was lifting, his eyes were searching mine.

This was actually happening.

And then…

"Professor Malfoy! Professor (Y/N)! We need your help!"

Three very loud, very panicked voices.

Leo, Aisha, and Elara.

My eyes snapped open, my blush deepening.

"What is it now, you three?" Professor Malfoy asked, his voice strained.

"It's... it's a house-elf uprising in the kitchens!"

"And Professor Dumbledore's portrait has gone missing!"

"And… and Professor Binns' ghost is singing carols in the dungeons!"

I blinked.

A house-elf uprising?

Dumbledore's portrait?

Professor Binns?

It was so ridiculous, so clearly made up.

But they looked so desperate.

We spent the next ten minutes following them on a wild goose chase around the castle, finding no house-elf uprising, no missing portrait, and Professor Binns' ghost humming a quiet, mournful tune in the staff room, completely oblivious.

The students' "plan" was a monumental failure.

Draco

The next day, during my DADA class, I saw the Gryffindor trio huddled together at the back, looking utterly dejected.

They were sulking.

Clearly, their latest "plot" had failed spectacularly.

My lips twitched.

They were endearing, in their own chaotic way.

Suddenly, the classroom door opened softly.

I looked up, and my breath hitched. (Y/N) stood there, wearing a soft, flattering jumper. She hadn't opened the door with a loud bang, or a dramatic entrance, just a quiet, almost shy, presence.

She walked directly to Leo's desk, her voice a soft murmur. "Leo, could I speak with you for a moment?"

Leo looked up, startled.

And then, she turned to me.

Her eyes met mine, a soft, confident smile gracing her lips.

"Excuse us, Draco."

The name.

My given name. Not "Professor Malfoy."

It wasn't a question, not an apology, but a simple, direct address.

My stomach did a strange flip, a dizzying mix of surprise and pure delight. I felt a responding smile, genuine and warm, spread across my face. She returned it, her eyes holding a knowing glint.

The Gryffindor trio, still sulking, missed it.

They missed the subtle shift, the quiet understanding that passed between us.

The shared smile.

She knew.

And I knew she knew.

The game, if it ever was one, had changed.

The clumsy attempts of the students had failed to push us together, but they had inadvertently stripped away our pretenses.

We were aware now.

Aware of our feelings for each other. Not quite there to make a move, not yet, but the realization, unspoken but understood, hung beautifully between us.

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[xyourdeadwifex]

Ever Unlocked

Part 12: They’re… Yours?

Part 11: In and Out

pairing: Officer!Leon Kennedy x Coroner’s Assistant!Reader

warnings: talks of masterbation, small violence, name calling, Bunny as a pet name, talks of murder

She had spent all morning with an obnoxious scent in her apartment, her first thought? The damn power. She went up and down her fridge trying to find the source of the smell as she tossed out older things in her trash can, seeing the lid wobble back and forth after every toss. She was furious when the smell didn't change, she didn't have time for this! She had work in less than two hours. A growl from her downturned lips pushed her into her room, sliding on, yet another, pencil skirt and a grey long sleeve cotton shirt. She had to hurry, she had no time to worry about the pungent scent that lurked throughout her safe space.

After yesterday and her discovery of a certain red lacy fabric, she'd been ignoring the man's text messages, she'd stayed until that night with him, offering soft smiles and nods as she didn't want to upset the man. She'd played into his likes and wishes- ding ding ding- her teeth grit harder as she slammed the tooth brush down, she pushed herself from the counter and tread over her pajamas to reach her phone on the night stand, she lifted it Cute Rookie, she should've put Annoying Bastard, she laughed at her own thought. before she placed the phone back on the nightstand, he could just sit and be angry she was avoiding him. She didn't even bother to read the other 5 messages that held the same name. She was livid, he wanted to have other girls over before he brought her over? Fine. She'd let him have those other girls.

Her hands rose from the sink, cold water splashing her face as she shivered, it was still cold out from the rain storms that came on and off. Her window opened to allow that horrendous stench out. She could feel the cold air seeping in as she dried her face, her apartment cooling off quickly. "Phone, purse, keys-!", she rushed into the kitchen, picking up the keys from her pile that she hadn't touched in days since Leon had picked her up for work. She huffed at remembering the man as she scooped up her jacket and headed for the door. She opened it quickly with a once over her apartment, still as cozy and a little less stuffy now that she left the window open, praying the scent was gone when she got back.

As soon as she stepped into the hallway- it was 100 times worse. "Oh-", she winced, her hand covering her nose immediately. "What the fuck?!", she shut the door quickly, making a brisk jog for the door leading outdoors. She made a mental note to ask Mrs. Jones about it that smell later, maybe she'd called maintenance about it already. She was typically good about that, seeing as she never hardly left her apartment but for taking out Tilly, her dog... her brows furrowed slightly as she tilted her head, she lifted her arms to place her jacket on as she thought back to last night. She hadn't heard Mrs.Jones or Tilly... she didn't hear them come out of the apartment or Tilly's barking. Yeah, she'd definitely stop by after work and make sure everything was okay... it was odd not to have heard from them. She was really craving that chicken casserole, maybe she'd ask for that too. A smile fell on her lips as she thought about the meal. Her fingers going under the door of her Maxima, lifting it and sliding into the drivers seat.

It felt like years since she'd been in the small car, she looked up at her rear view mirror, moving it so she could apply her lip gloss, her plump lips coated in a clear, mint flavored gloss as she capped it and fixed the mirror, her eyes falling upon a green Jeep parked behind her and pale knuckles adjusting on the steering wheel. She could do the nicer thing and get out of her car and hop into his, accepting the ride that he probably texted her about but she didn't see it, or she'd just pretend she didn't see him or the text and drive herself, saving her the trouble of faking her good mood to him.

With a purr, her car came to life, opting for the latter of her options as she backed out of the small parking lot. She knew he'd probably find her at work and ask her... but her phone was on silent all morning... how was she to know? A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, it's what he gets for being a creep.

She'd pulled up and yes, she noticed the same keep following her all the way to the parking lot. She could see his fingers adjust on the steering wheel once more as she hopped out, making sure to grab everything as she walked her way into the station, swinging her hips just to piss him off just a little more, tugging up her skirt so her ass slightly showed before pulling it down. She could play this game too. He wants to fuck other girls, then she'd give him a little peek here and there to make sure he realizes what he missed out on. She felt a tickle in her chest as she thought that, since when did she get so brave?

———

Since when did she get so brave? The thought gnawed at his brain, his left hand gripping the steering wheel as he watched the black skirt raise over the very bottom of her ass cheeks, basically tempting him to jump her in the parking lot. His hand tightened around his phone, 8 text messages, all left on delivered. He knew she saw him in the apartment parking lot, he wasn't dumb, he was watching, he'd also seen her check her phone right after he sent her 3 consecutive messages and she placed the phone back down without looking.

"Bratty girl.", he scoffed, he didn't get why she acted so strange since yesterday. Yeah, she'd asked to go home but he wasn't taking her in a storm and he had maybe realized half way through the day her little hums of acknowledgment were about the only thing she added to any conversation the entire day. He also knew that no body had found the neighbor lady, yet. He wondered if she knew something was wrong, her little thoughtful look to her car made him think maybe she wasn't as dumb as he pegged her, then again... she was acting pretty dumb right now as he watched her enter the glass doors. He looked down at the cup holder, a fucking mocha frappe and a sausage egg and cheese biscuit. "Don't make me add ungrateful to the list, Bunny.", he sighed, what was going through her careless mind now?

Leon's fingers crumpled the small brown bag, his other hand knocking at the door, trying not to spill the slightly melted coffee. "Coming!", he threw his head back, adam's apple poking from his neck further. Rebecca.

"Rookie! Hey!", Rebecca leaned on the door, her green shirt and lab coat contrasting the entire room. "Ms. Chambers.", he nodded with a thin lipped smile. "Came to drop these off for-", "Well, aren't you the sweetest thing?! I'll make sure she gets them.", Rebecca's voice was overly excited. Either she was hiding away in the office for him or she was somewhere and Rebecca didn't want Leon to know. His eyes scanned what he could of the room, through the crack the width of skinny Rebecca. "Yeah, just make sure she gets it.", he was infuriated.

First, she deliberately looks at him and drives away, knowing he drove an extra 15 minutes to get to her apartment. She also knew he always gets her coffee and breakfast. He really didn't want to add ungrateful to the list of things he needed to change about her. He didn't miss the open window in her apartment either. He also wasn't stupid enough to think she locked that door before she walked out. He nearly thought about strangling her the next time he got close to her. She was suppose to answer his "good morning, my sweet bunny", text with a cute one back then he would tell her he's on his way to pick her up, then she'd hop in his car, eat breakfast with him and he'd take them to work. No- she has to go and get an attitude with him out of the blue and it was fucking up his plans! She- she fucked up his plans. He did not go through all that trouble for her to slip out of his fingers.

He leaned back in his office chair, the files piling up on his desk. He needed to get started and fill out the reports but he really, really couldn't focus knowing she was hiding behind that dark oak door. His eyes cut to it every now and then, he thought about walking by just to catch her voice, just to dull that nagging voice in the back of his head. "Kennedy!", Leon's body jumped, his hand tipping over the coffee, he'd yet to drink, he's started to not force the bitter bean juice down his throat as much as before. He didn't truly care about fitting in anymore, he just wanted her. He wanted her more than anything else. "Shit-", he hissed, "You day dreaming, boy?", the coffee had marred some of his reports. He'd have to retype those up now. His eyes closed as he listed to Chief Irons, "I'm sorry, sir. I've got a lot going on, i need to leave it outside the door.", he sighed, knowing the speech Irons gave anyone who used that excuse, but how could he leave it at the door when the problem was in here with him, behind her own door? "Clean that up and quit lallygagging.", Irons clapped his hand down on Leon's shoulder.

The door to the break room was already ajar, he heard someone using the sink as he pushed it open with his foot. The creak caused the figure to turn around, a familiar cup placed in their hands. "Oh...", her eyes rolled as she turned back to the sink. Leon froze, was she seriously pouring out the coffee he'd gotten her? "You're- You know i spent money on that?", he was near choking the girl out. "Well, i didn't ask you to- and i didn't ask you to wait outside my apartment either, Leon!", she whispered yelled, her neck craning to look at him over her shoulder. "I have picked you up every day since the first night! How was i suppose to know you didn't want me to pick you up? You wouldn't answer the phone!", Leon matched her tone, his teeth clenched down on the other as he stared down at her. "Exactly! I didn't want to talk to you!", she scoffed, her hands tossing the now empty cup into the trash can, Leon's eyes followed the cup, seeing a brown folded up paper wrapping.

"You didn't eat the-", he groaned, hands going to his face, rubbing down at his furrowed brow. "You're so ungrateful-", he quipped, his blue eyes hardening into a stern look. "I spent good money on those and you're gonna be so disrespectful to just toss them like trash?!", their argument was in lower tones, careful not to disrupt the others working hard in the office space. "Yep-", she popped the 'p' at the end of the word as she turned towards him. Her arms crossing over her chest as she arched her neck, squinting at him. "Don't want your money. Don't buy me coffee anymore.", she spoke in an attitude. Leon's brows knit, his mouth agape as he stared daggers at her. "You-", "What? Say it?!", she was not backing down, the boldness she had to flash him on her way in seemed to stick to her today. "You ungrateful little brat.", he was still staring daggers, if he was a cartoon, he'd have smoke coming out of his nose and ears.

"Me- Me?!", her voice cracked, "I'm pissed at you- you have some fucking nerve, Leon Scott Kennedy!", she was a bit louder as he waved his hand to quiet her, he didn't need the entire station to hear an argument between the two. "What the hell are you talking about it you, crazy bitch?!", he whispered yelled, walking over to her and grabbing above her elbow and pulling her towards him. "Don't touch me-!", she pulled back slightly, trying to break his grip until he tightened it. His fingers dimpling into her arm, brushing the soft flesh. "Don't.", she has never seen him so pissed off than she had in this moment. The comment in the car, nor the family moment they shared had him looking this angry. She flinched back, like his glare as nipped at her.

"What the hell are you on about?", at her silence he tugged her arm slightly, pulling her towards him. "Use your big girl words, you were so ready to spit then at me a few minutes ago.", his normal boyish look was not on his features now. He looked like he had a glint that radiated authority and the peek of dominance. This was new and honestly it threw her into mental loops. Her eyes flickering over his face as she parted her lips just to close them once more, eyes set. "I was in your bathroom, yesterday...", she sucked her lips against her teeth, "in your cabinet there was a pair of red panties.", she whispered, she was slightly intimidated by Leon's look and grip that started to falter.

"Panties-", Leon's cheeks lit up as he heard her utter the words, red... lacy... panties... "Oh- Oh!", his hand dropped from her arm instantly. "Those-!", he reeled back, his hand going behind his head to brush at the blonde locks. "Whose are they, Leon?", she sighed, her chest heaving softly as she let the puff of air out from her nose. Leon was struggling, his tongue darting to lick at his lips, his eyes going to hers then back up to the cabinets over the sink. "Don't lie to me, Leon...", she begged, her arms still crossed as her right hand brushed the rising bruises from his grip.

He couldn't tell her... he'd come off as more of a creep than he already did. God- he hoped she didn't touch them, the hard, cum dried lace that he'd wrapped around his cock as he pumped himself dry, imagining those pouting lips wrapped around him instead of those panties. Her soft hands fisting his cock as he bucked his hips meeting the back of her palm.

"Leon?", she whispered, she was desperate for an answer. Leon was desperate for an excuse, he'd never been in this bad of a predicaments "They're...", he looked down at her, eyes wide as he wheezed the only thing he could think of, "mine-", she nearly felt her eyes pop out. "They're... yours?", she nearly felt her jaw drop. "Y-yeah... i have a thing for red lace and-", got he was blushing so hard as he gazed down at her stunned face. "It's- it's not weird-", he tried to cover his ass, Leon could barely walk past the women's underwear in the store let alone go up and purchase one himself. "They're mine, i use them when I-", "Alright!", she waved her hands, this was awkward enough without his description. "I- I get it...", she nodded, a sheepish smile on her lips. "I should've asked instead of assuming.", she placed her hands on her hips, "i'm sorry for ignoring you and pouring out the drink and food.", she sighed, looking back at the trash can. "Maybe, i can make it up to you and we go out to eat tomorrow after noon?", she smiled softly, her gaze going back to him. "Yeah, yeah... tomorrow.", he was eager, back to his boyish enthusiasm as he thought about the date they'd go on. "I'd like that a lot.", he lowered his head slightly.

    "I'm sorry for grabbing you so hard.", his hand reached out to brush her bicep, she tilted her arm back, hissing as he made contact with the angry skin. "I'm really sorry...", he whispered, a frown embedding his lips. "It's okay.", it wasn't okay, she moved on rather quickly in the moment, but the hours after she'd gone back into the office with Rebecca, with the promise of a date- news had come in. A new body had been discovered in an apartment, seemingly murdered as her throat was slit. Her apartments, the smell... the lack of routine she realized this morning. Mrs.Jones. She felt sick.

[6rookie-writer0110]

Male reader x Superman TAS Maxima

Sure

[lixzey]

i wanna teach you how forever feels !

‼️All of my works are purely fictional and are intended for entertainment only. I do have a wattpad account of the same username (lixzey_), but I haven't posted anything that I have written there aside from a few. Please, do not repost any of my works on any other site. ‼️

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ divider by @saradika-graphics

TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

The Story of Us - In which you are Timothée Chalamet's high school sweetheart. After a messy break up ten years ago, Timothée is Hollywood's it boy, while you are a rising star. The two of you will star in a new movie, what could possibly go wrong?

Letters - One day Timothée receives a package from someone unknown: a basket of eighteen letters. Letters from a girl named y/n. A mysterious fan who poured her heart out in her letters and is trying to fix herself. As Timothée begins to read, and the letters begin to run out, he finds himself falling for this girl.

Until one day he stopped reading.

Because she stopped writing.

Can't Help Falling In Love - In which two strangers accidentally get married.

Forever Yours

Heart to Heart

My Girl

The Girl With Hair Longer Than Rapunzel

24 Hours

Paradise

Bride for Rent

The Unknown Number

Bad idea, right?

Catching Feelings

Over and Over Again

Angel Eyes

Risk It All

TIMOTHÉE'S CHARACTERS `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

Foolish Ones - Theodore Laurence

Crazy Little Thing Called Love - Wonka

Choices - Paul Atreides

Against All Odds - Hal [The King, 2019]

STAND ALONE `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

• Rising Star

• Daddy's Angels

• More Than Words 🔥

THE MARAUDERS `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

James Potter

• Almost A Love Story

• Must Be Love

• To All The Boys I've Loved Before

• Once Upon A December

• Me Before You

Regulus Black

• Monster Among Men

• To The Moon and Back

• Protego Maxima

• Forever and Always

Remus Lupin

• Professor, Professor

• Head Over Heels

• Seven Minutes to Forever

• Timeless

Sirius Black

• The Name of The Game

• If Only

• Safe and Sound

PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

Luke Castellan

• Serendipity

• Sincerely, yours

• Lovelorn

• Late night cravings

HEROES OF OLYMPUS `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

• nobody's soldier

Leo Valdez

• leo valdez x dionysus!reader headcannons, friends to lovers