#but i do love the idea of taking a story and telling it from a different characters pov

[cressidagrey]

Brighten Up the Sky

This started as a prompt from the lovely @satiresunflower, (though it is pretty much unrecognisable from the prompt she actually gave. She did give me permission to go wild though, so this is what you get lol) 

This starts in Chapter 14 of ACOWAR, so some of the sentences are taken verbatim from the original text. I did change it into 3rd person, because me trying to write in 1st person never ends well. I also think there is a longer story in this particular idea, but quite frankly, I don’t have it in me to write it right now. 

Summary:

A Mating Bond between her younger sister and the Night Court’s shadowsinger was the last thing Feyre had expected to spring up…but then, maybe it did make sense. 

Warning:

Public Displays of affection, kinda Nesta bashing, but like...she has her reasons?, Cassian being annoying

(Lovely dividers thanks to @cafekitsune)

“Where are my sisters?” Feyre asked, the thought clanging through her head as jarring as a pealing bell. 

Her sisters

Rhys paused for just a moment, his hand slipping from her hair as his smile faded. “Elain and Nesta are at the House of Wind.” He straightened, swallowing. “I can—take you to them.” Every word seemed to be an effort.

But he would, Feyre realized. He’d shove down his need for her and take her to them, if that was what she wanted. Her choice. It had always been her choice with him.

Feyre shook my head. She wouldn’t see them—not yet. Not until she was steady enough to face them.

“They’re well, though?”

His hesitation told her enough. 

“They’re safe,” Rhys answered quietly. 

"That’s good," Feyre murmured as she took a deep breath in an attempt to calm the swirling, churning emotions inside her chest.

Her sisters...her sisters were safe. That was something. That was enough. For now. 

Only then she realised something else.

“You said Nesta and Elain are at the House of Wind,” Feyre pointed out, her hands clenching, her heart beating faster. “Where’s Alana?” she demanded, singling out her younger sister…singling out her half sister. 

The result of their father’s dalliance with a maid during her mother’s pregnancy with Feyre. Alana was just 6 months younger than her. Alana’s mother had died during childbirth…so their father had been saddled with another squealing infant that his wife was ill-pleased with. 

Nesta liked to say that that affair had eventually killed their mother. Feyre thought it to be ridiculous. It had been a fever and Alana had nothing to do with it, because she had been a literal child…and Alana had lost her voice to the very same fever. Feyre could still remember her singing like a pealing bell when she had been a child…and then…then she hadn’t been able to anymore. Even talking was near impossible for Alana, her throat unable to produce any sounds. 

Even as Alsna had been thrown into the cauldron…Her mouth had been open in a silent scream, but no sound had come out of her mouth. 

A shudder ran through her at that memory.

Alana. Her sweet, quiet younger sister. The sister that always smiled too sweetly and saw too much with those sharp eyes of hers. 

"Where is Alana?" She repeated. The silence in the room hung thick in the air as Rhys continued to hesitate.

A prickle of unease started to make its way up her spine. 

“Rhys, where is Alana?!” she demanded, her voice rising. 

“She’s safe, I swear,” Rhys hurried to promise her. “She’s not staying with Nesta and Elain but she’s safe. She should be here soon. I think…everything else…you should ask her about that.”

His words did little to soothe her worries, the unease that now clawed up her spine stronger.

“You’re not telling me something,” she pointed out, her brow furrowing. “Rhys, what are you not telling me?” 

She thought back to the last time she had seen her sister…thought back to her being poured out onto the wet stone floor from the cauldron…not a noise had come from her…nothing. She had…She had been poured out of the cauldron and had just kneeled on that stone floor as they had forced Nesta into the cauldron after her. 

She hadn’t…she had been…absent. Like the cauldron had taken too much from her. 

And then, in the moment as Mor had pushed Lucien away from Nesta and Elain, Feyre had seen Alana lunge. 

Not for the King of Hybern. Not even for Mor, who would have been closer to her…But for Cassian and Azriel for some reason. She wasn’t sure what had been Alana’s reasoning. Wasn’t sure what…Rhys had grasped all three of them and winnowed them away. 

Her heart was now hammering.

“What did you do with her?” Feyre demanded, her voice growing panicked. “What did you do with Alana? Why isn’t she staying with Nesta and Elain?” Feyre asked, her voice forcedly calm. “Rhys, what is going on?”

There was another moment of hesitation, another moment of silence, before Rhys finally replied. "She just…opted to stay elsewhere."

Those words did little to reassure her.

"Where?" Feyre pressed, her eyes narrowed. 

Rhys sighed. “How about you get into that bath that should be ready by now?” he suggested. “I’ll…tell you some of what happened. But I do think that some of the things should come from Alana and not from me,” he pointed out drily. 

The last thing she wanted to do right now was take a bath, the last thing she wanted to do was to be pacified with pretty words and nice things. That was the last thing she wanted.

But...he was right. She needed to be clean. 

Feyre growled at her mate, but stomped into the bathing chamber, stripping out of her clothing. Her fingers were near-black with dirt and caked blood. 

Rhys snapped his fingers, and her skin was nearly instantly pristine again. “Tell me what happened,” Feyre said flatly, as she sunk into the blood-hot water. “Why isn’t Alana staying at the House of Wind?”

Rhys was silent for a moment as he looked at her, his mouth in a grim line.

Then he let out a deep sigh, sitting down on the edge of the bathing tub. “A lot of things happened,” Rhys said drily. “But the biggest reason why Alana isn’t at the House of Wind is mostly that…I can’t guarantee Nesta’s safety, if she keeps spewing some of her venom in Alana’s direction.”

Feyre’s brow shot up at that, her heart skipping a beat. “What?” she demanded. “Rhys, what are you talking about?” That didn’t sound—didn’t sound like...

To say that Nesta and Alana didn’t get along was an understatement. Nesta gave Alana the fault for seemingly everything and Alana…well, she played deaf. And even more mute than she normally was. Even when Feyre‘s sister hadn’t been able to talk, she had been more than able to communicate if she wanted to, either with her expressive face, or her hands. And still, Alana had pretended like it wasn’t happening. Elain was no better to her…Elain liked to ignore Alana’s very existence.

But Alana wouldn’t have done anything…Alana wouldn’t have…

“Alana doesn’t lose her temper,” Feyre said carefully as she looked at Rhys. “She doesn’t.”

“She didn’t,” Rhys said drily. “My spymaster did.” 

A puzzled frown crossed over her face at that. “Azriel?” Feyre asked, her eyebrows furrowing. “What did he do?”

Azriel had lost his temper with Nesta? 

“If Cassian hadn’t been there, I think Azriel would have torn out Nesta’s throat with his bare hands,” Rhys said with a grimace. “It was…bad.”

Feyre’s jaw dropped.

Azriel, tearing out Nesta’s throat? With his hands? That…that didn’t sound like him. Not at all.

“I...” Feyre had no idea what to say. Why would Azriel have done that?  Feyre couldn’t…Of course, she knew that Azriel was capable of great violence, but he had never…she had never seen him lose his temper with a member of his family. Had never even through that that was a possibility. Whatever Nesta had said, must have been…

If he had gotten this angry on Alana’s behalf…What exactly had been said?

"What did Nesta do? What did she say?" Feyre asked, her voice hard. "What did she say to warrant that reaction from Azriel?" 

Rhys grimaced, shaking  his head. “You don’t want to know,” he said, his voice low. “Trust me, you do not want to know what she said. It's...complicated."

"Complicated, how?" Feyre demanded as she towelled herself off, walking back into the bedroom and pulled on comfortable clothing, her worry mounting. "What could possibly be so bad that you don't want to tell me?" 

If it was bad enough that Rhys didn't want to tell her what exactly happened...what exactly had been said.

"Well, that…” Rhys trailed off.

"Tell me," Feyre demanded again. "What exactly happened after…Hybern?"

Her mate gave in, holding out his hand and she joined him sitting on the edge of their bed.

Their bed.

She was home. Finally.

Rhys sighed.

“After Hybern…Mor dropped Nesta and Elain off at the House of Wind and then came back to the Townhouse. I had…I had Azriel and Cassian, and Alana too” Rhys said quietly and Feyre swallowed. Azriel and Cassian were healed. Rhys had told her that…but somehow she hadn’t been able to believe it…until she had seen it. 

“Amren tried to stop the blood flow from the literal hole in Azriel’s chest. I didn’t notice at first…Alana was kneeling at Azriel’s side…covered in his blood…holding his head on her lap…” Rhys’s violet eyes seemed to be far, far away, as he nearly shuddered, just thinking about it. “Azriel was…in and out of consciousness…but he was just…he was just holding onto her.”

Feyre’s heart was lodged in her throat. Azriel, nearly dead, was just…holding Alana. Her head was spinning as her mind worked hard to comprehend this. 

“The mating bond snapped for them,” Rhys finally said quietly. 

Feyre’s eyes widened. Her mouth went suddenly dry.

The…the mating bond? Alana and Azriel? Mates?

“The mating bond,” she echoed faintly. “The…the mating bond.” 

Feyre was quite sure that her jaw dropped. And that she stared at Rhys like he had just grown a second head.

“Azriel and Alana?” Feyre asked, unable to believe that. Azriel and Alana?! The brooding shadowsinger and spymaster of the Night Court and her youngest sister?

Azriel, who seemed to have a thing for Mor and had never looked at another female as far as Feyre was aware?

Rhys winced at her look.

"Yes, I know," he said quietly, wincing. "That was…my reaction too. I didn’t see it coming. I don’t think that anyone saw this coming...especially not Azriel." 

Feyre’s mind was racing.

Azriel and Alana. Mates.

She couldn’t…she never would have imagined it. Never seen it coming. Not in a thousand years. 

“Have they…” she wasn’t even sure what she was asking.

“Three days late,” Rhys said with a sigh. “They were not willing to wait.” 

“Three day?!” Feyre demanded. As far as she knew, Alana had never even entertained the thought of a suitor. Not that there had been any men that had looked over the fact that she was a bastard…and mute. They had never bothered to look further and Alana had never fussed about it either. 

"Three days," Rhys repeated. "The moment Azriel was well enough to be mobile again, they mated."  Rhys shuddered, his face scrunching up in distaste. “They are insufferable. The both of them.” 

"What do you mean, insufferable?" Feyre asked. A million thoughts were running through her head. Alana and Azriel…mates. They mated. 

"They could not stay away from each other," Rhys said, shuddering again. "They were...touchy. All the time. And so very...cutesy and sweet with each other. Gods, they are nauseating."

Feyre’s eyebrows rose at that. Alana and Azriel. Touchy? Cutesy and sweet? She could barely even imagine it. Alana...and Azriel. Being affectionate. 

"She’s sitting on his lap constantly," her mate groaned, rubbing his eyes hard. "And he is just…constantly touching her. I don’t even think that they have gone a whole five minutes without touching each other."

"And the looks," her mate continued drily. "Gods, they are exchanging these  looks. You would have thought that they are the soppiest, lovesick couple in existence. I did not ever need to see Azriel making heart-eyes at Alana. That was…traumatising."

Feyre pressed her hand to her mouth to muffle a snort. Azriel, making heart-eyes? That was a sight that she could not quite imagine. She…she hadn’t even thought that Azriel was even…capable of making heart-eyes. 

"Cassian and Mor kept poking fun at them. At every opportunity, which they definitely got often. Alana just…ignored them. But Azriel…" Rhys’ lips curled into a smirk. "He was not as amused as Alana by their teasing. He kept threatening violence every five minutes."

Feyre’s eyes widened at that, a laugh escaping her.

Azriel threatening violence for every five minutes that someone teased him about his new mate? She could not picture that either. 

"Cassian started making kissy faces at Alana just to see if Azriel would lose his temper," her mate said, a broad smile on his face. "And let me tell you, he nearly clawed out Cas’ eyeballs for it."

"So she's staying here?" Feyre asked carefully.

Rhys shook his head, his expression growing more serious. "She's at Azriel's house," he explained with a sigh. "It's...the cauldron left her with some...abilities. She’s a daemati…of sorts, at least,” Rhys said with a grimace. “We are still trying to figure out…how exactly it works. You and me…we need to concentrate if we want to read somebody’s thoughts. Alana…she said it was like she was standing in the middle of a market square and everybody is shouting at her,” Rhys said quietly. “We haven’t yet found anybody with shields solid enough to keep her out.”

Feyre swallowed at that. Alana, a daemati…of sorts. Having no control over whose thoughts she heard. No control over how loud everything was. 

“It’s like every mental wall, doesn’t even exist for her," Rhys said with a sigh. "Being around Amren gives her a headache too apparently. Azriel and Cassian are the most relaxing to be around according to her. There minds seem to be...even, analytical."

It sounded like a living hell. No control, no shields. Nothing.

“Is she…” Feyre’s voice was quiet. “Is she doing alright? Considering everything that happened.” 

“She’s fine,” Rhys promised her. “Alana is probably doing the best of them all,” Rhys said, something like amusement bleeding into his voice. “She can tell you all about it."

There was a knock at the door at that moment.

Feyre tensed as her eyes flew to the door.

“That’s her,” Rhys said quietly, placing a soothing hand on her leg. “Are you ready?” 

Feyre took a deep, steadying breath, pushing down her worry and her nerves.

“I’m ready,” she said. 

“Feyre!”

Her sister's voice. Her sister's voice.

Feyre’s heart skipped a beat as her body went rigid.

She couldn’t…she couldn’t believe it. After so long…after believing…believing for so long that she would never hear Alana’s voice…

Feyre remembered with a shudder the sight of small, slight Alana in her translucent nightgown…being poured out of the cauldron onto the stone...She looked nothing like she did now.

She looked well.

That was the first thing Feyre realised. Colour on her cheeks, dark, pin straight hair pinned away from her face and these devasting doe eyes…

Feyre’s eyes roamed over her sister, drinking in the sight of her. Alive. Well. Whole.

She could barely believe it, her mind struggling to catch up. 

"You can talk," Feyre whispered as Alana hugged her.  

She grimaced.

Kinda. This is easier though, she answered, her mental voice slipping into Feyre's mind without her even noticing. My throat hurts if I talk too much.

It was strange, having a voice in her mind that was not her own. Different from when her mate spoke to her down the bond. It was more…pronounced. Clearer, somehow. 

"Are…” Feyre’s voice broke again, her eyes roaming over Alana again. “Are you really alright, Al?” 

She drunk in her sister's face, the pale skin, the freckles that covered her face...she had been pretty as a human but as a fae...as a High fae she was gorgeous.

Alana’s eyes, her sister’s eyes, were still the same. Still that same dark, endless brown that had always seemed to hold so many secrets. She had never met anyone who could hold as many secrets as Alana had.

She looked so healthy, so well and Feyre felt a lump form in her throat. 

She had to fight the sudden urge to cry, as she pulled her sister into another hug. Her sister’s slender arms wrapped around her, pulling her in tight. Like she was never going to let her go again. 

I am alright, Alana promised fiercely. I am better than alright. I am...I am so happy, Fey.

The thought in her mind brought another wave of tears to Feyre’s eyes. She held on to her sister tighter, burying her face against her neck as a sob escaped her and she inhaled her sister’s familiar, comforting scent. Pomegranate and Vanilla, with an underlay of Azriel. 

He treats you well? she asked, cradling her sisters face in her hands. She didn't think that Azriel would...mistreat her but...

Alana’s eyes darkened as she thought of Azriel and her expression softened as a faint smile crossed her face. 

Feyre swallowed again. This was different. This was…her sister had never smiled like that. So open. So happy. So filled with…love. 

And then, very carefully, Feyre felt how Alana pulled at her mind in some sense and then dropped a memory.

For just a moment, it felt like she was in her little sister's body. And she stared at Azriel who looked at her, at Alana with utter and complete adoration, scarred hands cupping her cheeks so gently.

Feyre’s breath caught in her throat at that.

She could feel, could understand the feeling of Azriel’s warm, scarred hand against her skin. The way how the pads of his fingers ran over her jawline, the way how his thumb traced over her lower lip. The way how those hazel eyes of his were filled with nothing but love. 

A shudder ran down Feyre’s spine. That look, the way how Azriel had looked at her sister…it was like the expression in Rhys’ eyes when he looked at her. 

Her eyes flickered to Rhys, where he was patiently waiting in a corner.

He was looking at her with that same look in his eyes. The same look that Feyre knew was mirrored in her own eyes. It was the same, that look. Pure, utter devotion. 

It was the look of a man completely and utterly in love. 

Feyre swallowed as she turned back to Alana, her mind whirling. This was…Alana, her sister…her quiet, shy, closed-off little sister. And Azriel, the Shadowsinger and Spymaster of the Night Court. The one that no one saw as anything but sharp and deadly and a ruthless killer. 

He didn’t hurt you, did he? Feyre asked weakly. She didn’t think he would but…

Alana’s expression softened. Her hand gently came to rest on Feyre’s arm and she shook her head, a small smile on her face.

He was gentle as possible, Fey, Alana promised quietly. Gentler than I would have expected. He made sure to go slow, to be careful. He was…he was everything I could have wished for. He has never hurt me more than I wanted. 

Feyre let out a long, shaky breath she didn’t know that she was holding.

She…she had been worried. Worried for her sweet little sister, being together with a man like Azriel. Who was dangerous and deadly and…and lethal. 

What do you mean with no more than you wanted? she demanded suddenly. Alana just grinned at her, her laugh like a pealing bell.

A shudder ran down Feyre’s spine again. Alana’s…her sister’s voice, the sound of her laugh. It was the most wonderful sound that she had ever heard. She could’ve started bawling like a child, but the thought that Alana dropped into her mind just completely derailed her.

He knows what I like, and he’s happy to oblige. 

Feyre’s eyes widened and she choked on nothing.

She…oh Gods. Her face heat in a blush as Alana just continued smiling at her innocently. 

This was her sister. Her quiet, shy, closed-off sister. That was how she remembered her. And now…and now…she was standing in front of Feyre, smiling at her like a cat who had just devoured an entire bowl of cream, telling her that her stoic, broody, deadly Spymaster of a mate was apparently…into things… 

Her sister smirked at her. Alana! Her shy, little sister, who had never even so much as looked at a male with interest, stood in front of Feyre, a smirk on her face as she told Feyre that her mate knew what she liked. 

I was surprised too, you know, Alana’s voice echoed in Feyre’s mind. But well…I like it, and he’s happy to oblige. He’s very good at it… 

But the look on Alana’s face, the utter contentment in her eyes, and the feeling of…of lust from her sister, made it even more mortifying. 

Alana was happy. Her sister was happy and well, and she just radiated happiness. Feyre’s heart soared, seeing her sister like that after so long.  And even the horrifying bits, Feyre could push past.

Seeing her sister happy like this…that was worth a bit of mortification and discomfort. 

So she swallowed her mortification, and just pulled a face at her smirking sister.

Enough with the gory details, for the love of the Mother. she chided her in her head. Alana just let out another pearly bell kind of laugh.

You should come downstairs. Nuala and Cerridwen have given Lucien some clothing and showed him to a bathing chamber. Lunch should be served soon, if you are hungry, Alana said into her mind.

I am famished, Feyre confessed in her mind. “Lead the way,” she said aloud and Alana just rolled her eyes, taking her by the arm and pulling her downstairs. 

And then something else came to her mind. What did Nesta say to you?

Alana sighed. Nothing that matters, her sister said easily as they reached the dining room. Azriel and Cassian were waiting for them.

And then Feyre saw how her sister turned from happy to radiant as soon as she saw Azriel. 

Feyre watched with ill disguised horror, as the spymaster’s shadows came over to Alana, seemingly swarming around her. Whatever bits of naked skin they could find…in this case her hands and face, because she wore a long sleeves high necked gown, they caressed. Nearly sweetly. 

Alana absentmindedly drew her fingers through one tendril as she floated over to Azriel, sitting down onto his lap like that was an utterly normal thing to do. Feyre could just stare as Azriel pressed a kiss against her sister‘s cheek, one scarred hand possessively spanning her waist.

Like this was normal. Like this was something they had done dozens of times…like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like this was their usual routine…and Alana smiled at him, broadly, pressing a kiss against his cheek in greeting. 

It was...it was surreal, watching Alana like this. So much more open, less reserved than Feyre had ever seen her. And the way how Azriel looked at her...Feyre had never seen him express such open and utter adoration before. 

Cassian made a retching sound, catching Feyre’s attention. Azriel’s eyes darkened as he threw an icy look in Cassian’s direction. Alana just snuggled deeper into Azriel’s chest. 

Azriel let out the smallest of chuckles at Alana’s behaviour in his lap, one of his hands coming up to gently play with a strand of her dark hair as he pressed another kiss to her forehead. 

The quiet, brooding Spymaster of the Night Court, who could be downright terrifying when he wanted, completely and utterly smitten by her little sister. 

Feyre could just stare. 

She had not for one moment thought that they would…would be a good match. But here they were. 

Alana...Feyre had never seen her sister like this before. So open, so happy. So...unreserved. She was like a cat, settled in the lap of her male, letting him pet her like she was...like he owned her. And it seemed like Azriel would gladly claim ownership too. The possessive, proprietary look on his face told Feyre all she needed to know. 

“Get a room, for the love of the Mother,” Cassian drawled with a disgusted look on his face as Azriel buried his nose in her sister’s hair and Feyre shot him another dirty look. Alana just stuck her tongue out at him. 

Azriel just bared his teeth at Cassian, a silent warning to watch his tongue in the direction of the woman in his lap, who was busy playing with the buttons on his fighting leathers. 

“What did Nesta say?“ Feyre repeated as she sat down herself. 

The reactions were immediate. 

Azriel growled.

Feyre couldn’t help but flinch slightly. That growl...she hadn’t heard him make that sound before. It sounded utterly terrifying. Alana didn’t even flinch. She just touched Azriel’s chest in a soothing gesture and Azriel immediately quieted down, holding her even tighter. 

It doesn’t matter what Nesta had to say, Alana’s voice echoed in her mind.

“It absolutely does,” Feyre muttered, feeling some anger rising in her. Her sister deserved better than what Nesta had to say. 

I don’t care what she says, Alana replied in her mind. She can believe whatever she likes. She is entitled to her opinion. 

“She can be quiet about her opinion,” Azriel hissed. Only then Feyre realised that her sister must have been projecting her mental voice so that everybody could hear it.

"Azriel." Alana's voice was soft. "It's alright. We both know the truth. It doesn’t matter what she believes"

Azriel looked down at her and a slight frown appeared on his face. He gently cupped her sister's chin, his hazel eyes staring into her dark ones. Feyre could practically hear the silent conversation between them. 

Cassian sighed. "Nesta found out about the mating bond between Azriel and Alana and she didn't take it well," he told Feyre drily.

Of course, she didn’t. Of course, she didn’t. Feyre ground her teeth together. 

"So what exactly was said?" she asked sharply.

Cassian and Rhys shared a look as Azriel let out another warning growl. Feyre ignored him. 

I want to know, Feyre snapped towards Alana. Her sister stiffened. 

Feyre, Alana’s voice echoed in her mind, a hint of warning in her tone. Feyre pushed down a wave of irritation. 

Tell me, Feyre demanded. She was done with secrets. Done with not knowing things. 

It’s nothing, Alana tried to brush her off and Feyre’s irritation flared up in her stomach. 

It is not ‘nothing’. Feyre snapped at her. Her sister’s face was a stoic mask as Azriel let his hand span across her stomach. 

Nesta made a comment about how she was surprised that Azriel hadn't ripped me apart during our...mating. But maybe she shouldn't be surprised because I was a whore anyway, Alana finally answered. How a brute like him was all I amounted to, given that I was a bastard...and then there was some more stuff in that rant about how unfair it was that I had landed on my feet but Elain is...well...Elain isn't doing so good, Alana answered flatly.

Feyre felt her blood boil in her veins. Of course, Nesta would say something like that, the bitter, twisted...- Feyre bit down on the string of curses burning on her tongue. 

Nesta isn't doing well, Feyre. You can't take what she is saying right now to heart, Alana warned her softly. You haven't been in her mind...it's...it's bad.

Feyre felt some of her anger cool down ever so slightly. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t pissed off at Nesta for what she had said. Even if...even if Nesta wasn’t doing well. 

That doesn’t change anything about what she said, Feyre said through gritted teeth. 

I am not defending her, Alana said firmly. I love Nesta. Doesn’t mean that I like hearing her talk about Azriel like that. But Feyre... her voice grew softer. I have seen her mind. Her thoughts. She isn’t in a good place right now.

Feyre grimaced, feeling her anger slowly disappear. She didn’t like it. She didn’t want to. But...maybe Alana was right. Nesta was her sister, and Feyre loved her. Even after everything that had happened between them. 

Still...what she said... Feyre said weakly and Alana’s lips quirked. 

I know, she said gently. I was angry too. I nearly tore her head off. But Azriel...he was furious. I’ve never seen him like that before. 

Feyre didn’t need to be told how furious Azriel had been. The look in his eyes, the clenched jaw and the growl that Feyre had heard...she didn’t need anyone to tell her how the usually stoic male had been absolutely furious about what Nesta had said. 

"I'll talk to her," Feyre said aloud.

She ignored the dubious look that Cassian and Rhys were giving her. Her sister just smiled at her softly and nodded. 

Talk to her gently, she urged in Feyre’s mind. Please. And don’t...don’t try to defend me. It will only start a fight. 

Feyre winced. Even though, she didn’t like the thought of it and not defending her sister went completely against her nature, she knew that Alana was right. And her sister could read her thoughts with ease anyways. 

I’ll bite my tongue, Feyre promised her. Alana smiled at her again, that smile that lit up her entire face. Feyre felt her heart clench at the beautiful sight. 

“Thank you,” Alana said happily, her voice like the most wonderful sound. Feyre had a feeling that that was the thanks not only for agreeing not to defend her but for just...not making a scene. Feyre felt a small, answering smile tug at the corners of her own lips.

Instead, she watched her sister pick up a piece of bread from the plate in front of Azriel and hold it up for him to eat without another word. A silent gesture of acceptance.

Azriel’s lips twitched as he looked at his mate, sitting on his lap like she belonged there. But he obediently opened his mouth, a subtle sign of complete surrender to Alana. 

Cassian made another retching sound. Alana ignored him.

Azriel was the one who kissed Alana.

Feyre could have gone quite a long time without that sight. Especially because it wasn't a simple peck on the cheek or a quick kiss to her lips. 

Feyre could have gone forever without seeing her sister like this, settled in the lap of her mate, their bodies pressed together tightly as Azriel kissed her, devoured her, his hands possessively splayed out on her slender waist. 

"Now you are just fucking with me," Cassian said with a sigh.

Alana just broke out in a fit of giggles as Azriel threw a glare in Cassian’s direction. 

“Maybe I am,” Azriel mused, as Alana settled back into his lap. Azriel’s one scarred hand was back to playing with a strand of Alana’s hair. “Jealous?” he asked lightly and  Cassian actually growled at him.  Azriel snorted, his hand possessively covering Alana’s stomach, who was smiling like the happiest person in the world. 

“Shut up,” Cassian huffed. “I am not jealous. I just don’t want to know what you two get up to at night.” 

"Only at night?" Azriel asked drily. "Brother, you have much to learn."

Feyre groaned internally at the hint in Azriel’s voice as Cassian looked a little ashen, while Rhys burst out laughing and Alana let out another one of her pearly-bell like laughs. 

“Stop tormenting him,” Rhys said with a chuckle as Cassian tried to recover. “He’ll have nightmares for weeks if you continue like this.” 

“That sounds like a you problem,” Azriel replied, completely unrepentant, “not ours.” Alana was still giggling, a sound like tinkling bells in Feyre’s ears. 

“Of course you say that, you bastard,” Cassian said with a sigh as Azriel’s hand on Alana’s stomach started to slowly wander upwards. 

Feyre could see how Alana’s cheeks flushed slightly in response to the possessive touch. How her breathing quickened ever so slightly. Azriel’s lips twitched as he noticed it too. 

"We'll let you deal with Lucien," Alana said suddenly, gaining her feet quickly. "We'll see you at dinner. Az?"

“Coming, sweetheart,” Azriel said and Cassian made another retching sound as Feyre could feel the waves of possessiveness coming off Azriel in waves. Her sister was his. 

In a matter of heartbeats, they were gone. Feyre was left with Cassian and Rhys who were both looking at her intently. 

"Yes, they are always like that, if you wondered,” Cassian said with a roll of his eyes. "I think they are still in the Mating Frenzy."

“Most likely,” Rhys agreed with a chuckle. “But they also don’t seem to care who sees it. Mor is still horrified from walking in on them a few weeks ago.” 

“So would I be in her shoes,” Feyre said honestly and Cassian snickered. 

“They are insufferable, aren’t they?” He said with a grin. Rhys just chuckled. “So utterly happy.”

“Yes,” Feyre agreed, the image of the two of them, completely oblivious to the world around them still in her mind. “Unbelievably so.” 

“They’re also completely and utterly devoted to each other,” Rhys mused. “It is…kind of sweet.” Feyre nodded thoughtfully. 

It was sweet. The way Azriel looked at her sister, how he was so utterly possessive about her. And Alana…there wasn’t a hint of hesitation about her when it came to Azriel. 

"As long as she's happy," Feyre said quietly. As long as Alana was happy.

[midday-clouds]

Yandere Batfamily x Neglected & "Immortal" Reader 》 II

Part I

Thank you so much for the love for the first one! 💞 There are so many ways I can imagine how this story can go and it's hard to pick one or try merging all the ideas. Nonetheless, I hope this meets your expectations!

CW: Stalking, Breaking and entering, Violence(Being stabbed, beating up a thief), Blood

You had officially moved into your apartment in Bludhaven

Everything has moved so quickly and now you can finally relax

You gave up connecting with your family, got kidnapped, died, came back to life and moved out

It may be a bit much to pick the farthest college from the manor but you’re clearly unwanted there

Your family has neglected you and didn't do anything when you were kidnapped, so you have every right to be as far away from them as possible

It was honestly quite lucky that you were already accepted into a college in Bludhaven during your senior year. If you had applied after your kidnapping, the chances of you getting in would have been low.

But you’re here now and can finally feel happy. Well, if you don't count some of the nightmares you get from when you “died”.

Sometimes you do wonder how you survived that gunshot. Were you not hit somewhere vital? But then, where was the hole?

A part of you was curious and wanted to replicate the injury but that would be painful. You surviving the gunshot also could have been a one-time thing

You never ended up going to the police or the hospital because what were they going to do? You don’t have any proof that it even happened because your injury is gone, the blood left at the abandoned building is likely dried up and doesn’t look fresh, and Bruce probably threw away the ransom letter. 

The only proof you have that it even happened is your memories and you telling your friends. But the police or doctors would just look at you and say “You look fine now, no need to look into the situation anymore.” 

But enough about that though, you’ve got a few more hours before it gets dark and you want to get to know about the area.

It is still the middle of summer so your college classes haven't started yet. You could have waited until class started to move but you wanted to be out before Alfred returned from his vacation.

Alfred was the closest thing to family in the manor. But he and Bruce have never felt like safe adults to share your problems with. 

He should be back from his vacation now, has he found out about your kidnapping or did Bruce cover it up? He probably did to avoid getting news out. You should probably look into how you can change your surname.

Just as you finish your thoughts about the manor, you use your laptop to find interesting places in the area before heading out the door with directions in a notebook

Bruce and the rest of the family may know where you are currently, but bringing you back home was the hard part. Alfred had to convince Bruce that if he wanted you back, he shouldn’t just barge in all of a sudden. 

You’ve been hurt by the family's actions and won't return without a fight. 

But even then, Bruce has to see you. The entire family needs to see you with their own eyes at least once.

With this in mind, the whole family decides to take a small road trip to Bludhaven. They’d find you and figure out the best way to approach you without scaring you off. 

It was almost sundown when the family got to Bludhaven. They change into their vigilante gear so it’d be easier to hide in the shadows

Tim loads up the tracker on your phone and leads the way. It seems the tracker you have isn't the best because once the family gets close to your apartment, your phone just says your laptop is nearby instead of its exact location. 

No problem though, Tim can easily hack into the computer system for the apartment and find which room is yours.

Once your room is found, the family takes a peek inside. You’re nowhere to be found, which is a little worrying.

The locks on your windows are broken as the family opens them and sneaks inside. Your living room and kitchen are littered with boxes but that’s it. They each take a look around to find you but come out empty-handed. If you were here, they may do exactly what Alfred discouraged and just take you home. However, because you aren’t home, the only other place you could be is outside. Where it’s dark out and you’re alone.

Worried for your safety, the family immediately goes on another search for your

Because you could be anywhere, the family decides to split up to find you

You look around as you walk back to your apartment, a few small bags of food and snacks in your hands. Because it’s getting dark, you do begin to pick up the pace. You’re so focused on not getting home that you don’t notice when a person peeks over at you from a rooftop.

You’re just about to pass a convenience store when someone runs out and knocks into you. The person curses as they quickly get up and reach for their bag of stolen goods. Filled with adrenaline, the thief takes out a knife and stabs you. They were aiming to kill you so there weren’t any witnesses but ended up putting the knife in your shoulder. As the thief makes a run for it, a certain vigilante quickly blocks their path

Nightwing goes full force on the thief. How dare they hurt his baby bird. He refuses to make the same mistake of leaving you alone and hurt.

Your heart is racing as you attempt to pull the knife out of your shoulder. Your eyelids feel weak but you refuse to fall asleep. Unlike before, you aren’t restrained and can still escape.

You pull the knife out and let it fall on the ground next to you. After a few breaths, you do your best to stand up. You take a small glance at Nightwing before quickly running back to your apartment. 

Once inside, you almost collapse on the floor but try to get your first aid kit.

Your bandaging may not be that good but the best but it’s enough for you to feel comfortable sleeping for the night

Nightwing sighs as he handcuffs the thief. He went a lot harder than he expected but how can you blame him? His family was in danger and he needed to do everything to make sure it doesn’t happen again

The vigilante turns to where you were but only finds a bloodied knife and the bags you left behind. He carefully picks up the bags and knife while he considers where you have gone.

Spotting a trail of blood, Nightwing quickly follows it, contacting the rest of the family as well

The family gathers at the same spot near your apartment and finds you sleeping in your bed. Wanting to help you, Nightwing comes up with an idea

You lay on your bed, waiting for sleep to consume you when a knock comes from your door. You try to ignore it but the knocking continues. The only thing that gets you up is the realization that the knocking is too loud to be from your door. Opening your eyes, you realize that someone is at your window. 

Getting up, you pick up your pepper spray as you slowly walk towards the window. You have your curtains closed so you try to peek past them to see who is there

Who you see is Nightwing and it gets you worried. Does he think you were involved with that other person? He must have seen that the thief stabbed you at least

Not wanting to make the vigilant wait, you open your window slightly. Only enough so you can hear what Nightwing has to say

Nightwing happily greets you and shows you the bag of items that you left behind when leaving the scene.

Surprised, you thank Nightwing and open the window. Making sure to not open the window more than necessary, just enough to collect the bags

Just as you reach for it, the vigilante points out your bandaged shoulder. He goes on to say the importance of properly handling injuries and offers to rebandage your arm.

It takes you a couple of moments before you agree to his help.

Like a big brother, he sits you down and redoes the bandages. Honestly, it makes you wish your actual big brothers would care for you in this way. Even though one of them is right in front of you

Once your shoulder has properly been bandaged, you thank Nightwing for his help. He offers to stay the night but you tell him that you’d be fine. Plus, doesn’t he still have to take care of Bludhaven

You make sure to close and lock your window once Nightwing leaves before going back to bed.  As sleep consumes you, your whole family watches from a distance. You didn’t seem to recognize Dick as Nightwing so it may be possible to get you to trust them before taking you home

[mbsneur]

Bold motivation

Laia Codina x Reader

Hello everyone, I've returned with a new piece of writing that I hope you'll like and enjoy. Tomorrow, I'll be sharing the Aggie story. I'm open to any feedback and messages you may have, and I'm also open to any wishes you may have! 🩵

Warnings: Smut18+ minors DNI, public sex

My Masterlist

It's been a week since Laia lost not only to Brazil but also to Germany in the bronze medal match, you can understand her, Laia's not really feeling well, she's grumpy with you, she lies on the couch all day and doesn't give you any love and you miss your girlfriend. The season is about to start again and you want to cheer Laia up and take her to the gym, as you both always do when one of you isn't feeling well.

You walk down the hallway in your training leggings and top, towards the living room where Laia is lying on the couch: "Laia, baby, let's go to the gym," you call to her, and she grumbles and turns back into the pillows.

You move closer to her and lean over the couch, planting kisses on her face. "I'm going to cheer you up, Laia. Trust me," you say firmly. Laia finally turns to you. "Let's cuddle on the couch," she says. She says in her sweetest voice, where she knows she can convince you. "And exactly because you're not feeling well, we're going to the gym. Come on. Venga " You say louder this time, and Laia just rolls her eyes.

She gets up and stomps annoyed into your shared bedroom where she puts on her gym clothes, after about 5 minutes she comes back to you still with an annoyed face, you lean against the wall and just laugh at her.

"I finally get a real kiss," you say with a grin, and Laia immediately gives you a soft kiss on the lips, "I only do this because I love you," she says ironically, reaching for her car keys.

You follow her laughing and, despite her bad mood, she is still a gentleman and opens the passenger door for you.

Your journey has been the same as always, Laia has her playlist playing and you talk to her and give her a pep talk and she gives you a little smile now and then.

When you arrived at your gym, checked in and put your things in the locker, you had an idea and luckily the gym wasn't too crowded, you chose a quiet corner where no one was around.

"Laia, can you do 15 sit-ups and then maybe you can get a little reward?" you say mischievously, grinning at her "Yeah, are you going to tell me what to do?" she says with a grin, coming closer to you "The reward, baby," you say teasingly, giving her a quick kiss on the lips.

"What kind of reward will it be?" she asks as she moves to the floor, you just shrug your shoulders and watch her do her sit ups, it always turned you on to see Laia working out.

When Laia has finished her sit-ups, you kneel on the floor and pull her towards you for a kiss. Her tongue slides into your mouth and explores every inch. One of her hands grabs your arm to pull you closer to her. You detach yourself from her and pull your top off. You were wearing a sports bra underneath, so it's not really a problem if anyone sees it.

Laia's eyes roam from top to bottom, taking in your whole body, "ah, I see, that's how it works," she grins and starts to kiss you again, deepening the kiss and reaching for one of your breasts, you push her hand away, "Laia, that's not how it works, you have to do 15 push-ups first," you say, moving away a little, you pull yourself back and she start to nibble at your neck, "Laia," you moan softly, "one minute," she says between kisses and nibbles. one of her hands pinches your nipple you squirm under her and try to move away but she is stuck to you

You moan slightly as Laia kisses your neck again and you finally manage to push her away from you. "Laia, the push-ups," you say, your voice firm and out of breath. She goes to the floor again to do the push-ups. You sit there and watch every movement of her strong arms with every push-up, admiring the way her biceps grow stronger with each one. you knew exactly that sex is the best motivation for laia

Laia has done her push-ups and comes crawling back to you. She lands on your neck bone and kisses it repeatedly. You drop your head back and moan. One of her hands slips under your sports bra to feel your breast, which makes you moan again. When you ask Laia what her favourite body part is on you, she tells you it's your breasts. She has always loved your breasts more than anything.

"Laia, stop, you have to run a few kilometres on the treadmill" you say, breathing lightly and Laia moves away from you, you realise that at this moment she would do anything you ask her to because she wants you, she wants to fuck you in this gym.

She gets on the treadmill, a little reluctantly, and you have a plan. You sit down directly in front of Laia so that she has the perfect view of you. You were turned on by the whole thing. Laia had worked on your breasts before, and you now look directly in front of her with your legs spread apart.

When you looked at Laia, she was nervous, her eyes were almost black and she was struggling to walk, you wanted to give her a little show, you played with your bra straps and rubbed your thighs.

Laia's mouth is slightly open as she turns off the treadmill and starts to walk towards you, "Laia, no," you say in an annoyed voice, but Laia ignores your words and comes over to you, grabbing your arm, "Let's go to the toilet," she says in a slightly angry voice, pulling you up from the bench.

She pulls you behind her on the way to the toilets. You quickly grab your top, when you arrive at the toilets. Laia pushes you in and starts kissing you harder than before. You moan into her mouth and she pushes you by the hips into one of the cubicles. She pushes you against the door and her hands wander all over your body.

She nibbles on your lips and god you are so wet your underwear is ruined. "What were you thinking teasing me like that?" she says against your lips. "I wanted to motivate you, baby," you say out of breath from all the kissing. Laia turns you around and pushes you onto the toilet lid. Within a second she is kneeling in front of you.

She kisses the bare skin on your belly and pulls your trousers down to your ankles "You will be quiet now or I swear to God you will not be able to walk for the next three weeks," she says in her strong Spanish accent and something about the thought pleases you.

She pushes your underwear aside and works your pussy directly with her mouth. You whimper and hold a hand directly in front of your mouth to suppress any noise. Laia is enchanting with her tongue, and you can't help about this

She looks at you and teases you with her middle finger, playing with your entrance.

"Don't tease me, Laia," you say firmly. "Let's make this quick I want to take you home and fuck you until you forget your name."

You moan at her words and her middle finger slips quickly into your wet hole.

Her mouth lands on your clit again and her finger pumps into you. Your head hits the tile wall and a slight whimper comes out of your mouth. Laia gives you a warning look and you press your hand harder against your mouth. You can hear how wet you are with every thrust Laia makes with her fingers.

You press against her, and her tongue clamps around your clitoris. She lifts your leg over her shoulder to get deeper inside you before a second finger slides easily inside you. You moan, and Laia bites lightly on your bundle of nerves. She pumps faster inside you, and your legs start to shake. Laia drives you closer to the edge.

"Laia, I'm coming," you say between moans and whimpers, your leg pressing closer to her cheek as she gets mercilessly faster "don't hold back baby cum for me," she says and immediately starts licking you again.

Your body relaxes against hers until you cum on her fingers and make a mess as she pulls away from you. Her mouth and fingers are covered in your juices. Her lips are glossy and slightly swollen above a dazed smile. "Such a good little pup, aren't you?" she says in a low voice. "Let's go home," she adds, and she helps you get dressed.

Tell me your opinion <33

[stylesispunk]

"Eternal whispers of you"

marcus acacius x f!reader

Summary: In a time of ancient empires, the forbidden love between a powerful general, Marcus Acacius, and the emperor's sister was met with tragedy. Their affair was discovered, and the emperor cursed his sister to live an eternal life, forced to witness Marcus die in every lifetime without the chance to love him fully again. After a thousand lives, would they meet again?

w.c: 13k (this was supposed to be 8k.)

warnings: angst, power imbalance, loss, separation, mentions of curse, some historical mistakes, the story also takes place in the modern day (I'm telling you) not proofreading. paragraphs in cursive indicate flashbacks.

a/n: This idea was better in my head, but the last Gladiator 2 trailer made me feel things and inspired me to write this. You will also notice inspiration from "The Age of Adeline" in this story. I hope you like it cuz it took me three days to write it. You will notice some inaccurate facts but it was for the sake of the story and my imagination, don't judge me, please. Happy reading and PLEASE share your thoughts with me. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. 💌

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

********"

You were cursed to a life without an ending. Lonely and loveless, every day of your life or any love you could find wouldn't reciprocate and you were going to be condemned to see them grow old and die, and you would continue to live a life in an endless cycle of tragedy.

You were condemned to just tell stories about the man of your life, the one who had been murdered and punished to die without honor for your brother's poisoned mouth.

You became a traitor for the empire. But not cries out of shame or the dirty words of people hurt as much as the day you hold Marcus’s hand for the last time as his eyes closed in a forever eternity that you were going to live without him.

Not even death could put you both together in the same path. You were cursed to remember his love, and you were cursed to never see him again and to live a never-ending life without the love who made your life a field of dreams.

The night after your love affair with Marcus was discovered. The emperor, your brother, furious with your betrayal, condemned both of you. You were summoned to the imperial court, where your brother delivered the punishment. His words sting like venom, cursing Marcus to die dishonorably in front of your eyes.

That night still haunted you.

The imperial court was dimly lit by the flickering flames of torches, casting shadows across the towering marble columns. You stood at the center, your heart pounding like war drums in your chest. Your brother, sat upon his gilded throne, his eyes dark with fury. You could barely hear the words that escaped his lips, but their venom poisoned the air between you.

“Traitor,” he spat, his voice echoing through the chamber. “You have betrayed not only your empire but your blood.”

Your eyes flicked to Marcus, kneeling beside you, bound and bruised. The strong, unyielding general was barely recognizable under the weight of chains and despair. His gaze, however, remained fixed on you, calm, resolute, and filled with love that no curse could shatter.

Your brother’s face twisted with rage as he stood, his robes sweeping the floor like the wings of a vulture. “You,” he snarled, his finger pointing at Marcus, “will die with dishonor, like a common criminal for taking advantage of my sister. And you,” he turned to you, his eyes burning with hatred, “You will be cursed to an eternal life, loveless and alone. You will remember this betrayal every waking moment for the rest of your existence, and you will never know peace again.”

Tears pricked your eyes, but you did not flinch. The emperor’s voice rose like a storm. “You will watch him die, over and over, in your memory. And with every death you witness, you will be reminded that this is your doing. You will live forever, but you will die inside every day.”

With a gesture of his hand, the guards dragged Marcus away. His eyes never left yours, filled with an unspoken promise of love that neither time nor curse could take from you. You reached for him, your fingers grazing his as they pulled him further from you, his touch slipping away like sand between your fingers.

You screamed his name, but your voice was swallowed by the cold, empty hall. The weight of your brother’s words crashed down on you like a wave, and you fell to your knees. The curse had already begun.

The day of Marcus’s execution came far too soon.

They paraded him through the streets like a criminal, his once-glorious armor stripped from him, replaced with the rags of the condemned. The crowd jeered and spat, but you saw none of it. All you saw was Marcus, broken, yet still impossibly strong.

You stood at the front of the crowd, the place of honor reserved for the emperor’s family, forced to witness the final blow. As they prepared to end his life, your heart pounded in your chest, each beat screaming for you to do something, to save him.

But you were powerless.

Marcus turned his head toward you one last time, his eyes soft, filled with a love that had transcended the horror of the moment. His lips moved, forming words meant only for you.

“I will find you again.”

With that, the sword fell.

The world shattered around you. You dropped to your knees as the crowd roared with approval, but the noise was drowned out by the sound of your heart breaking. You clutched your chest, feeling the jagged pieces of your soul tearing at you, but the pain wasn’t enough to free you from the curse. You couldn’t escape. The curse wouldn’t let you.

You watched as Marcus’s body was dragged away, knowing you would never hold him again.

++

After Marcus’ death, you begin to experience your immortality firsthand. You don’t age, but the world around you does. At first, the pain is too great, and you isolate yourself, haunted by the memory of his final moments. You visit his grave every day, talking to him as if he were still alive.

There’s a sense of numbness, a hollow ache where his presence used to be. You realize the gravity of your curse the first time you notice gray hairs on the friends and people around you, but none on yourself. While others grow old and die, you remain the same, a constant in a world of change.

You slowly started to see the empire fall, and with it the death caught your family, one by one. Geta was the first, the middle of a family you now considered cursed. The, your mother and father met the same fate, and finally, Caracalla met death too, murdered by a soldier. He died without honor and he would be remembered as the cruelest imperator, you would make sure of it.

You were the only left from the fallen family, you could have saved the empire from breaking into pieces, but you weren’t going to sacrifice any second from your eternal life on it, so you erased yourself from Rome and from the history of it.

You left Rome behind, watching the city fall to ruin, its power crumbling with each passing year. The empire you had once known, that had been ruled by your family, was now a memory, a fading echo in the vastness of time. You no longer belonged there, and you had no desire to preserve what had been lost. The weight of your curse consumed you, drowning out any loyalty you might have once felt.

Instead, you wandered, drifting across continents and centuries. At first, you tried to hide, retreating to the furthest corners of the earth, away from people, away from the pain of watching those around you wither and die. Each new connection, each fleeting friendship, was a reminder of the man you could never forget, of Marcus's warm touch and his promise to find you again, unfulfilled.

But the world was relentless, and no matter how much you tried to isolate yourself, it continued to grow, to change. Civilizations rose and fell, each one leaving its mark on history, yet you remained untouched by time. You began to realize the truth of your brother’s curse, not just the eternity of your life, but the eternal loneliness that accompanied it.

The worst part wasn’t just the loss of your family or Marcus’s death; it was the fact that no matter where you went or how much time passed, you could never escape the memory of him. The grief was always there, lingering just beneath the surface, a shadow following you wherever you went. You carried the weight of his death, not just as a memory, but as an unending, crushing reality that haunted your dreams and your waking moments.

In the centuries that followed, you watched as kingdoms rose from the ashes of the Roman Empire. You saw the birth of new religions, new governments, new ways of thinking, but you remained on the outside, forever watching, forever unchanged. While others lived their lives, you were a ghost, slipping through the cracks of history, unnoticed and unseen.

But you could never forget Marcus. No matter how hard you tried to distance yourself from the pain, he was always there in your thoughts. His memory became your only companion, the one thing that time could never take from you. You told stories of him, of his strength, his courage, his love, but never revealed the truth. They were just tales to those who listened, history that no one could verify, but for you, they were the only way to keep his memory alive.

You returned to his grave as often as you could, though as the centuries passed, even that became more difficult. The world changed around you, the landscapes shifted, cities were built and destroyed, and the places you had once known became unfamiliar. His grave, once a sacred place for you, was lost to time. It was one of the last connections you had to him, and when it was gone, it felt as though a piece of you had been taken too.

There were moments when you tried to end your existence, hoping to find Marcus in the afterlife. You throw yourself into battles, attempt poison, even seek out dark magic, but nothing works. The curse prevented any harm from lasting.

The curse ensures that you never forget Marcus, his face, his touch, the sound of his voice. You find yourself returning to places that remind you of him, like the old battlefield where you first met, or the quiet corners of the palace where you shared stolen moments.

You often found yourself returning to places that held memories of Marcus. The battlefield where you first met, where he had caught your eye in the midst of the chaos, remained sacred to you. You would stand there, recalling the way your heart raced when he first spoke to you. The palace too, though long gone, remained vivid in your mind. You could still hear the echo of your laughter as you shared secret moments in the quiet corners, moments stolen from the prying eyes of the court.

But none of these memories could fill the void that had been left behind. You were a shell of who you had once been, and your existence was now defined by the absence of Marcus.

You became a witness, watching people fall in love, create families, grow old, and die. It was a cycle you had been denied, and it filled you with both longing and bitterness. The worst part of your immortality wasn't the endless life itself, it was the endless isolation, the inability to ever truly connect with anyone again.

In the present day, the weight of centuries finally began to take its toll. You had lived through empires, witnessed the birth of new nations, and seen countless lives come and go. Yet, no matter where you went or how much time passed, you remained haunted by Marcus’s memory. He was always there, a specter in your mind, the only constant in your immortal existence.

After wandering aimlessly for decades, you found yourself drawn to history once again, not just as a passive observer, but with a deep desire to preserve the past.

You were in a quiet bookstore, surrounded by shelves of dusty books. Your hands ran over the spines of history texts as you stopped at a volume about Ancient Rome. The familiar symbols, the names, even the dates of battles were etched in your mind like scars. You paused on a chapter dedicated to General Marcus Acacius, your Marcus. He was remembered as a hero, a man of honor, but the truth of his death, the betrayal, has been lost to history. You smiled at the thought that even Caracalla’s venom words, didn’t tinted Marcus’s name on history.

The memories fled back in an instant, the first time you saw Marcus commanding his troops, his fierce yet kind eyes, the way he smiled when no one else was looking. It was a painful nostalgia, one that made your chest tighten. You’ve avoided facing the truth about the Roman Empire for so long, unable to face the weight of those memories. But you realized now that telling Marcus’ story was the only way to keep him alive.

You left the bookstore, a decision already made in your heart. You would become a history teacher, and through your lessons, you would keep Marcus alive in a way that no curse could take from you.

At the first day in the classroom. The desks were arranged neatly, sunlight streaming through the windows, and your students were filing in. You stood at the front of the room; your hands rested on the chalkboard. It was strange, being back on an important role where you were meant to pass on knowledge. But for you, this was more than just education, it was a form of remembrance.

You felt a mixture of nerves. This was a chance to talk about Marcus again, to give him the honor he was stripped of in life. You weren’t sure if you were becoming crazy through this endless circle, and you didn’t know if you still were twisting the knife of endless memories you had of him, but you know that this was the closest you had been to him. As you students settled in, you introduce yourself, with a new of the thousand names you had had during your long life. You dove into your lecture about the Roman Empire. When you mentioned Marcus, your voice faltered just slightly, but you pressed on, determined to honor him in the only way left to you.

As you stood before your students, your mind wandered back to the times when you were with Marcus, the memories flooding in, unbidden but unstoppable. The classroom around you faded, and the vivid images of the Roman Empire took over. You were no longer in the present, but back in the heart of ancient Rome, standing beside him, your love, your general.

It was a warm summer evening in Rome. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky awash in shades of deep orange and purple. You and Marcus were hidden away in a secluded corner of the palace, stealing a moment of peace amid the constant threat of discovery. His armor had been discarded, instead he was wearing his cloak as if it could erase the responsibility off his shoulders. In that moment, he was not a general, he was just Marcus, yours, the man you loved.

His hand brushed against yours, sending a shiver up your spine. You had to be careful, even here. The walls had ears, and the court was always watching. But with him, you found yourself willing to take the risk. The world outside your bubble of stolen moments didn't matter. Not the empire, not your brother, not the looming consequences. Just Marcus.

"You should go," he whispered, his voice low and rough. "It's too dangerous."

But you shook your head, stepping closer, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. "I don't care," you whispered back, your heart racing. "Let them find out. Let the whole world know. I love you, Marcus."

He looked down at you, his dark eyes softening as they always did when he gazed at you. He placed a gentle hand on your cheek, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I love you too," he said, his voice filled with the same intensity you had come to depend on, but laced with sorrow. "But your family will not be kind to us.”

You knew he was right. You both did. The affair was treason, a betrayal to the honor of your family, to your brother. But the pull between you was too strong, too undeniable. It had started innocently enough, during the long strategy meetings Marcus held with your brother. You had caught glimpses of him, and over time, those stolen glances had become longer, lingering. Before you knew it, you were sneaking away from the palace, meeting him in secret, hiding your love from the watchful eyes of Rome.

In that moment, though, none of it mattered. He leaned down and kissed you, softly at first, as if testing the boundaries of your defiance, then more passionately, as if the whole world could burn for all he cared. You melted into his embrace, letting yourself get lost in the heat of the moment, your mind clouded by desire and the need to be close to him.

You snapped back to the present, your heart still racing as if you had just been pulled from Marcus’s arms. The students stared at you, waiting. You realized you had paused in the middle of your lecture, lost in the memory. Quickly, you cleared your throat, steadying your voice before continuing.

"General Marcus Acacius was one of the finest commanders Rome ever produced. He led with strength and honor, but..." you hesitated, a lump forming in your throat. "But history doesn’t always remember those who deserve it most. He died in dishonor, stripped of his title and his legacy.”

Your students watched you, unaware of the deep, personal meaning those words held for you. They were listening to a lesson, but you were recounting the loss of your greatest love.

And that’s how week after week, your lectures became more detailed. The students were captivated by your knowledge of the Roman Empire, unaware that you were telling them stories of your own life. When you spoke of the campaigns Marcus led, your tone softened, and the students sense the reverence in your words. They asked questions about him, and you answer with more care than you do for any other figure in Roman history.

Speaking about Marcus became a bittersweet ritual. You felt the same pain as you did centuries ago, but there was a strange comfort in saying his name aloud. With every story you tell, you feel like you were giving him a second life, bringing him back into the world if only for a moment. The students didn’t know it, but they were learning about a man who shaped you in ways that any book could never explain.

After class, you often sat alone in your office, a single lamp casting a dim glow. Old books of the Roman Empire were spread out before you, but your mind drifted away. You thought about the moments you shared with Marcus, the way he used to hold you after long days of battle, the whispered promises of a future that was stolen from you both.

The loneliness that had followed you for centuries still lingered, but teaching about him helped ease it, if only slightly. It was as though every time you speak his name, you were defying the curse, keeping his memory alive despite the gods’ punishment. But there were nights when the pain was too much, and you felt the weight of eternity pressing down on you. You wonder if Marcus could hear you, if somewhere, in some distant place, he knows you were still fighting to keep his honor intact.

It was late, the room lit only by the flicker of a single oil lamp. You were lying beside Marcus, the cool night seeping through the cracks of the window shutters. The war outside had raged on for weeks, but in this quiet moment, there was only the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of each other's presence.

His arm was draped across your waist, his fingers tracing delicate patterns over the back of your hand. His touch was gentle, a contrast to the hardened general the world saw. Here, with you, he allowed himself to be vulnerable. You shifted slightly, laying your head on his chest, feeling the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath you.

"You know we can't keep this up forever," he whispered, his voice thick with weariness and something more. Fear, perhaps. Or resignation.

You didn’t reply right away. You knew the truth of his words there was always the looming threat of discovery, of punishment. But in this moment, you wanted to pretend, just for a little longer, that the world outside didn’t exist. That this wasn’t forbidden. That you weren’t living on borrowed time.

He caressed your hand, the roughness of his calloused fingers a stark reminder of the battles he fought, the sacrifices he made. "I would give it all up, you know," he continued, his voice soft, barely audible. "The empire, the glory, everything. Just to stay here with you."

Your heart twisted painfully at his words. You knew he meant them, and you wanted to believe in a future where such sacrifices could lead to a peaceful life together. But you both knew better. The weight of duty and the ever-watchful eyes of the emperor, your brother, were never far from your thoughts.

"You don't have to give up anything, Marcus," you whispered, bringing your hand to his cheek, guiding his gaze to yours. "I love you as you are. And for as long as we have, that will be enough for me."

But even as you said the words, a sinking feeling settled in your chest. You had always known that the empire was a ruthless machine, and it would not allow your love to exist without a price. Still, you closed your eyes, pressing your lips to his, letting the kiss linger as though you could keep time at bay, as though you could stop the inevitable.

When you pulled away, Marcus smiled faintly, his thumb brushing your lower lip. "If only we could stay like this forever," he murmured.

You leaned back in your chair, the weight of eternity pressing down once again. Could Marcus hear you now? Could he feel your longing across the vast time? You didn’t know. But you hoped, no, you believed that somehow, somewhere, he still held you in his heart, just as you held him in yours.

One day, a student stayed behind after class, intrigued by the depth of your knowledge about Marcus Acacius. “It’s like you knew him,” she said, half-joking. “How do you know so much about his life? There’s not much written about him in the sources we have.”

For a moment, you’re taken aback. You’ve been careful to keep your personal connection to Marcus hidden, but the student’s words strike a chord. You felt the urge to tell her the truth, that you did know him, that you loved him, that you were cursed to live on without him. But instead, you smile softly and say, “I’ve studied him for a very long time. Some stories just stay with you.”

The student nodded, satisfied with your answer, but as she left, you felt a pang of longing. You wished, just once, you could tell someone the truth. But you know the world wasn’t ready for your story. It’s a secret you’ll carry alone.

As the years passed, teaching became your refuge. You taught more than just facts and dates, you taught the human side of history, the emotions and relationships that shaped the past. Through your stories, Marcus lived on in the minds of your students, and that gave you a small sense of peace.

The curse still lingered, and the pain of losing Marcus never would fade completely. But through your lectures, you’ve found a way to keep his memory alive. You couldn’t bring him back, but you could ensure that he was remembered, not as the man who was unjustly killed, but as the honorable general who loved you. In that way, you fought against the curse, turning your suffering into something meaningful.

One afternoon, as your students filled out of the classroom, you noticed one student lingering behind, gathering his things slowly. You've been watching him for a few weeks now, and it hasn’t escaped your attention that he always sat alone, quiet and withdrawn. His name was David, and though he never caused any disruptions, he seemed distant from the rest of the class, lost in thought, barely engaging with the lessons.

You decide it was time to reach out.

After the classroom emptied, you approached David as he slanged his backpack over one shoulder. His eyes remained downcast, and you sensed a heaviness about him, something familiar in the way he seemed to carry the world on his shoulders.

“David,” you said gently, “can I speak to you for a moment?”

He glanced up, surprised, but nodded. You gestured toward the front of the room, and he hesitantly followed you. The two of you sat across from each other, the quietness of the empty classroom made the moment more intimate.

You saw something familiar on him, soft brown eyes

You looked at David and felt a strange sense of recognition. His soft brown eyes held a weight that was all too familiar, reminding you of someone you had long ago lost. The resemblance was subtle, but it struck a chord deep within you, like an echo from a past you had tried to forget.

"Is everything alright?" you asked gently, hoping to break through the wall he had built around himself.

David shrugged, staring down at the desk in front of him. “I’m fine,” he mumbled, but you could tell from his tone that he wasn’t.

You leaned forward, trying to catch his gaze. “It’s okay if you're not. You don’t have to pretend with me.”

He glanced up briefly, then away again, the silence between you heavy with unspoken thoughts. There was something more than just teenage angst weighing on him. Something deeper.

“Do you live with your parents?” you asked, thinking you could reach out to them, perhaps offer a meeting to better understand what was troubling him.

David shook his head slowly. “No, it’s just me and my dad.”

His words were like a key, unlocking a door that had remained sealed for centuries. The moment he mentioned his father, a strange chill ran down your spine. You couldn’t explain it, but something inside you shifted, as if the ground beneath your feet had suddenly become unstable.

Before you could ask another question, David continued. “He…he works a lot, doesn’t talk much about stuff. But he cares. I know he does.”

You nodded, sensing a familiar loneliness in his words, one that mirrored your own. “I’d like to meet him,” you said, though the idea stirred something unsettling within you. “Maybe we could have a talk, see if we can help you feel more connected here.”

David shrugged again but didn’t resist. “I guess. I’ll let him know.”

A few days later, you arranged for a meeting with David’s father. As the time approached, you couldn’t shake the unease that had settled into your bones since the conversation with David. There was something about him, about his eyes, his manners, that reminded you of Marcus in a way that felt impossible. But centuries had taught you that the impossible often had a way of finding you.

The classroom door creaked open, and you looked up from your desk. David walked in first, looking a bit anxious, followed by his father. The moment you saw him, your breath caught in your throat.

It was Marcus.

He stood there, lingering by the door, his eyes locking with yours. Though time had passed, and he appeared as someone entirely new, the essence of him, his presence, his soul, was unmistakable. He looked at you with a furrowed brow, as if trying to place you, the same soft brown eyes that had haunted your dreams staring back at you in the flesh.

He stepped in slowly, a tall man with broad shoulders, dark eyes, and a calm yet commanding presence. He looked almost exactly the same as he did all those centuries ago, his hair was streaked with gray, and there was a tiredness around his eyes, but the face, the face was unmistakable.

It was Marcus.

Your heart pounded violently in your chest, and for a split second, you felt dizzy, as if the ground had shifted beneath your feet. Memories fled back, so overwhelming it was as if you were living them all over again: his voice, his touch, the way he smiled at you in those quiet moments when no one else was around. Your throat tightened, your hands trembled, and you could barely breathe. You waited for centuries, living in the shadow of his absence, knowing he would never return to you. And yet, here he is.

You’re stared at a man who didn’t remember the life you shared. A man who looked like Marcus but had no idea of the love, the pain, the eternity you’ve endured without him.

He didn’t recognize you, of course. How could he? You’ve lived for centuries, unchanged, while he, he’d been given a new life, one free from the curse that bound you. He cleared his throat, clearly waiting for you to speak, and it was only then that you realize you’d been standing there, staring.

“Uh… I’m David’s father,” he says, extending a hand. His voice was deeper now, worn by time, but the tone. It was Marcus. It was him.

You forced yourself to take his hand, and the moment your fingers touched, the air in the room seemed to thin. The connection was immediate, electric, and your mind spun with the impossibility of what’s happening. You shook his hand, trying to steady yourself, trying to keep from falling apart.

“I’m… I’m David’s teacher,” you managed to say, your voice shaky. You gave him your name, though you were almost certain the sound of it, the familiarity of it, would spark something in him. But nothing. He was just a man, living an ordinary life, unaware of the past you shared.

He sat down across from you, unaware that this is the most surreal moment of your long, cursed life.

“David’s mentioned he’s been struggling,” he began, looking down at his son, and there was concern in his voice. “I’ve been worried about him. I thought maybe it had to do with his schoolwork.”

You forced yourself to focus, trying to push down the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you. How could Marcus be here, sitting in front of you, unchanged yet completely different? He didn’t recognize you, he couldn’t. He had lived and died, while you had remained frozen in time. This man, David’s father, had no knowledge of the centuries of pain you had carried or the love you had lost.

“Yes, David has been a little distant,” you managed to say, your voice barely steady. You glanced at David, who sat quietly next to his father, unaware of the storm brewing inside you. “He’s a bright student, but I’ve noticed he’s been… struggling to engage.”

Marcus—no, not Marcus, David’s father—nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, we’ve had a rough few months,” he admitted, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “I’ve been working a lot, and it’s been just the two of us since his mother left. I think it’s been harder on him than I realized.”

The way he spoke, the cadence of his words, the soft concern in his voice, it was Marcus. Your heart ached with the familiarity of it, but the reality crashed down on you just as quickly. He didn’t know who you were. He didn’t remember anything about the life you had shared, about the love you had lost. To him, you were just another teacher, another stranger.

“I understand,” you replied, trying to keep your voice level. “Maybe we can work together to help him feel more connected. Sometimes, just having a consistent presence can make all the difference.”

As you spoke, your eyes couldn’t help but drift back to him, trying to reconcile the man sitting in front of you with the one who had held you centuries ago. He was so close and yet so impossibly far away. He had no memory of you, no recollection of the love that had once bound you together. It was both a blessing and a curse—he was free from the torment that had plagued you for centuries, but you were left alone in your knowledge of what you had once shared.

“I’ll do whatever I can,” he said, glancing at David with a softness that made your chest tighten. “I want to make sure he’s okay. It’s been tough on both of us.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on you. This was your Marcus, but not your Marcus. He was a father now, concerned about his son, living a life you had never been a part of.

The meeting wrapped up quickly after that. You offered some advice, discussed possible ways to help David, but all the while, your thoughts were consumed by the impossibility of the situation. As they both left the room, Marcus lingered for a moment by the door, his eyes meeting yours once again.

“I appreciate you taking the time,” he said quietly. “I know it’s not easy, but… it means a lot.”

You nodded, unable to trust your voice. “Of course.”

He gave you a small, almost hesitant smile before he turned and left, his footsteps echoing in the hallway. And then you were alone, the weight of your endless existence pressing down on you once more.

As you sat there, staring at the door through which he had just walked, you realized the cruel twist of fate you now faced. Marcus had been given another chance at life—a chance to live without the burden of the past, without the curse that had chained you to eternity. But you, you remained the same, trapped in an endless cycle of love and loss.

As you sat there in the quiet, the memories of Marcus flooded your mind—his voice, his touch, the way he looked at you all those centuries ago. You were lost in the whirlwind of it when you suddenly heard footsteps approaching. Your heart quickened, and before you could even turn, you knew who it was.

David’s father-Marcus- stood in the doorway again, hesitating for a moment. His brow furrowed in thought, as though something was tugging at the edges of his consciousness, something familiar that he couldn’t quite place. He cleared his throat, and when you finally met his eyes, your heart nearly stopped.

“I know this might sound strange,” he begins, his voice softer now, uncertain. “But… have we met before?”

The question hit you like a punch to the gut. For centuries, you had dreamed of hearing those words, of him somehow remembering you, but now that it was happening, you didn’t know how to respond. How could you explain what was beyond comprehension? That you had loved him deeply, that you had lived lifetimes while he had been reborn, oblivious to the pain you still carried?

You forced a smile, trying to hide the turmoil inside you. “I… I don’t think so,” you said, though your voice wavered slightly.

He looked at you closely, his eyes searching your face, as if trying to pull a long-forgotten memory to the surface. For a fleeting moment, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—the curse wasn’t as strong as you thought. Maybe some part of him did remember.

“There’s just something familiar about you,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture you remembered all too well. “It’s strange… like I’ve seen you before. Or… I don’t know.” He gave a sheepish laugh. “Maybe I’m just overthinking it.”

You felt your breath catch. It would be so easy to tell him the truth, to give in to the temptation of finally revealing who you really were. But what good would that do? He was living a new life, and you had no place in it.

“Maybe we’ve crossed paths somewhere before,” you replied, your voice steadying even as your heart ached. “The world can be small like that.”

He nodded, but you could see the doubt lingering in his eyes. “Yeah, maybe.” He looked down at the ground for a moment, then back up at you. “Thanks again for everything. I really appreciate it.”

You nodded, offering him a smile that felt like a lie. “Of course. Take care.”

With that, he gave you one last look—one that made your chest tighten—and turned to leave. As his footsteps echoed down the hallway, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had made the right choice in keeping the truth hidden.

For the first time in centuries, you weren’t sure what your future held. All you knew was that Marcus was out there again, living a life you could never be a part of. And once again, you were left with the memories, the only thing that time and the curse had not been able to take from you.

Alone in your office, the weight of eternity pressed down on you more heavily than ever before.

A few days passed, but the encounter with David’s father lingered in your mind like a ghost. You went through your routine, teaching classes, grading papers, keeping up the mask you had worn for centuries. But beneath the surface, the storm raged on. You could still feel the weight of his gaze, the unspoken recognition that had passed between you. He didn’t know the truth, but something inside him remembered.

Meanwhile, across the city, Marcus found himself wrestling with a strange, unshakable feeling. It had been there ever since he met you at the school, a persistent pull that gnawed at him in quiet moments. He tried to push it aside, rationalize it as nothing more than stress, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

At first, it was just small flashes—your face as you had looked at him, the way your voice had trembled ever so slightly when you spoke. There was something familiar about you, something that stirred a sense of déjà vu he couldn’t explain. And then, the dreams began.

They started out hazy at first, fragments of images that disappeared as soon as he woke. A battlefield, the clash of swords, and always…you. Standing there in the distance, watching him. He couldn’t make sense of it, and every morning he woke with the same unsettled feeling gnawing at him.

It got worse with each passing day. He found himself driving by the school on his way to work, glancing at the building as if he might see you standing there. He caught himself wondering what you were doing, if you remembered him in some strange way too. It didn’t make sense, but the pull was real, undeniable.

One night, after tossing and turning in bed, Marcus sat up, running a hand through his hair in frustration. The dreams had returned again, this time more vivid than ever. In them, you had been lying beside him, your fingers intertwined with his as he whispered something he couldn’t quite remember. The sensation was so real, so intense, that he had woken with his heart racing, the image of your face burned into his mind.

He couldn’t keep ignoring it.

The next day, after dropping David off at school, Marcus found himself walking back to the classroom where he had first met you. He didn’t have a clear plan, only a need to see you again, to understand why this strange connection existed between the two of you.

When he arrived, he stood outside the door, hesitating for a moment. What would he even say? He didn’t know if he was ready for whatever this was, or if you would even feel the same pull. But the need to know, to see you, overpowered the doubts.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked softly on the door and waited.

Inside the classroom, you had been in the middle of organizing papers when the knock startled you. You weren’t expecting anyone, and your heart leapt in your chest at the possibility that it could be him. You took a deep breath before opening the door, bracing yourself for whatever was to come.

When you saw Marcus standing there, his familiar brown eyes looking at you with that same confusion and intensity, you knew this moment had been coming. His presence was overwhelming, and for a brief moment, it was as if centuries fell away and you were back in that palace with him, before the curse, before the loss.

“I’m sorry for dropping by like this,” he said, his voice softer than you remembered, though the same cadence was there. “I just… I’ve been thinking about our meeting the other day. I can’t shake this feeling that there’s something—”

He trailed off, searching for the right words, clearly struggling to articulate the pull he was feeling.

You stood there, your heart pounding, knowing that this conversation was teetering on the edge of something dangerous, something you couldn’t fully control.

“Something familiar?” you finished for him, your voice almost a whisper.

His eyes widened slightly, and he nodded. “Yeah. Exactly that.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking almost embarrassed. “I know it sounds crazy, but since I met you, it’s like I can’t stop thinking about it. About you. I keep having these…dreams, and it doesn’t make any sense, but it feels like I’ve known you before.”

Your heart pounded at his words, the weight of centuries crashing down on you all at once. His admission felt like a thread connecting the past to the present, something fragile and dangerous. You had never expected this—Marcus remembering, even if only in fragmented dreams. You could see the struggle in his eyes, the confusion he was trying so hard to make sense of.

You tried to steady your breath, knowing you couldn’t tell him the truth, not yet. It would unravel everything. But his presence, the way he looked at you as if he had known you for lifetimes, made it impossible to keep your emotions in check.

“I’m sure it’s just… coincidence,” you said softly, your voice betraying the turmoil inside you. “People get those feelings sometimes, don’t they? Like they’ve met someone before.”

He studied you for a moment, his brow furrowing. “Maybe.” But he didn’t sound convinced. He took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “It’s not just that. It’s something more. And I don’t understand why, but I feel like… I should know you. Like I’m supposed to know you.”

Your pulse quickened. It was dangerous, this line you were walking. If he kept pushing, if he kept searching for answers, the curse could be exposed. Yet, the way his eyes searched yours made your resolve falter. It was Marcus standing before you, but not the Marcus you had known. This was a man who had been granted a new life, free from the past that had chained you both.

“I’m just a teacher,” you said, forcing a small smile. “We only met a few days ago.”

He nodded, but the crease between his brows deepened, as if he was debating with himself, wrestling with whether to leave things be or push further. He took another breath, as though on the verge of saying something else, but then stopped himself, shaking his head slightly.

“I don’t usually do this,” he said, almost to himself, his voice low, hesitant. “But… would you like to get coffee sometime? I mean, not as David’s teacher, but just as… us.”

The question hung in the air between you, and you felt the ground shift beneath your feet. You had lived through countless lives, avoided countless connections, and yet here was Marcus, in this new form, asking you to start something again. It was as if fate was daring you to test the boundaries of the curse.

You hesitated, your heart torn between the longing you had carried for centuries and the knowledge that this was a path filled with danger. If he remembered more, if the past began to bleed into the present, what would that mean for him—for both of you?

“I…” You swallowed, unsure of what to say. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

His face fell slightly, disappointment flickering in his eyes. But then he smiled, trying to mask it. “I get it. I just—there’s something about you…”

Your chest tightened at his words. He was offering you an out, a way to walk away from this, to keep the curse at bay. But deep down, the thought of letting him go again, of walking away from the man you had loved for centuries, felt unbearable.

“I’ll think about it,” you whispered, almost afraid of your own answer.

He nodded, offering you a small, understanding smile. “Take your time.” His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, searching for something he couldn’t quite find. “I’ll see you around.”

And then, he turned to leave, the weight of his unspoken questions hanging in the air like a ghost. You watched him go, your heart aching with the knowledge that fate was once again drawing you both into its web.

The door closed behind him, and you exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. This was only the beginning, and you knew it. The past had a way of finding you, no matter how much time had passed.

A few days later, the school hosted a parent-teacher meeting. The hallways buzzed with the low hum of voices, the shuffle of papers, and the occasional sound of children darting between classrooms. You had prepared for a busy evening, but the thought of seeing Marcus again lingered in the back of your mind, an undercurrent to everything else.

You were speaking with another parent when, out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of him. He was standing near the entrance, casually scanning the room. For a moment, he looked lost in thought, his brow furrowed in that familiar way that tugged at your heart. And then, as if sensing your gaze, his eyes met yours.

The world seemed to pause.

The warmth of his smile was immediate, softening his features in a way that was both disarming and comforting. It was as though, in that brief moment, everything else in the room faded away. The connection between you, the pull that had been simmering beneath the surface since that first meeting, was undeniable. His eyes lingered on you, full of recognition that he couldn’t quite place, yet something deep inside of him understood.

As the conversation with the other parent wrapped up, you felt Marcus slowly making his way toward you, weaving through the crowded room. Your heart raced, knowing that whatever happened next, you wouldn’t be able to pretend that the past didn’t exist—not for much longer.

“Hi,” he greeted you, his voice warm and easy as he stopped in front of you.

“Hi,” you replied, your voice barely steady as you met his gaze.

He glanced around briefly before looking back at you. “Busy night?”

You nodded, the weight of the moment making it hard to find words. “Yeah. A lot of parents to talk to.”

Marcus gave a small chuckle. “I guess I’m one of them.” But the tone of his voice suggested he had more in mind than just the usual parent-teacher talk. His eyes searched yours again, that same sense of familiarity clouding his expression.

“You’ve been on my mind,” he admitted softly, leaning in just enough so that his words wouldn’t be overheard by anyone else. “I know it’s probably crazy, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the other day. And… about you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your chest tightening at his words. He was so close now, and you could feel the intensity radiating off him, the same intensity that had bound you together in another life.

“I…” You hesitated, knowing the danger in getting too close, in letting yourself fall into the old patterns. But something in the way he looked at you, the softness in his expression, made it impossible to resist. “I’ve been thinking about it too.”

His smile grew, a flicker of relief crossing his face. “I’m glad it’s not just me.”

You could see the uncertainty in his eyes, the same battle he was fighting inside himself—the inexplicable connection, the way the past seemed to bleed into the present even though he couldn’t understand why.

“I know we’re at a parent-teacher meeting,” he said, his voice a bit lower now, “but maybe after this, we could grab that coffee? Well, we could make it, a dinner. I’m still trying to make sense of this, of what I’m feeling, and I’d really like to talk to you… if you’re open to it.”

Your heart ached at the question, knowing that whatever happened, this was Marcus reaching out to you again, even if he didn’t remember the lives you had shared. You felt the weight of the curse pressing down on you, but for the first time in centuries, the idea of keeping your distance felt unbearable.

“I’d like that,” you said, surprising yourself with how easily the words came out.

His eyes lit up at your response, and he smiled again, this time a bit more confidently. “Great. I’ll wait for you after the meeting.”

And with that, he gave you a nod before moving off to join the other parents, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding with anticipation, fear, and hope all at once. You knew this meeting would be the beginning of something far more complicated than either of you could imagine.

++

The rest of the parent-teacher meeting passed in a blur. You were aware of the conversations happening around you, but your mind was somewhere else—focused on what was to come. Marcus had invited you for dinner, a simple gesture that felt monumental in the context of your tangled past. Every minute felt heavier with anticipation, knowing that after so many lifetimes of loss, this was your chance to be near him again, even if he didn’t remember.

When the meeting finally ended, you gathered your things and made your way toward the entrance. You spotted Marcus waiting by the doors, hands in his pockets, eyes searching the crowd. As soon as he saw you, that familiar warmth spread across his face, and for a moment, it was like stepping back in time.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice casual but with an undercurrent of something deeper.

You nodded, offering him a soft smile. “Yeah, ready.”

Together, you made your way out to the parking lot. David was waiting by their car, playing with a small toy in his hands. When he saw you walking with his father, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Dad?” David asked, looking between the two of you. “Why’s my teacher coming with us?”

Marcus glanced down at his son, his smile never wavering as he reached over and tousled David’s hair. “She’s joining us for dinner tonight,” he explained lightly. “I wanted to say thank you for helping out with everything.”

David’s eyes widened, and he looked at you with a mix of curiosity and surprise. “Oh… okay,” he said slowly, clearly trying to process this new development. “So, like, you’re friends with my dad?”

You exchanged a quick glance with Marcus, both of you sharing a silent understanding of how complicated the truth really was.

“Something like that,” you answered with a gentle smile. “We’re just going to have dinner and talk about how to help you in school.”

David seemed to accept this explanation for now, though his gaze lingered on you a little longer before he climbed into the car. As you slid into the passenger seat, your thoughts were swirling. You were entering Marcus’s home, a place that was both familiar and foreign to him—a life he had built without any memory of you.

The drive to their house was quiet, but the tension between you and Marcus was palpable. Every now and then, you caught him glancing at you, as if he were trying to piece something together, to understand why he felt this pull toward you.

When you arrived at their home, Marcus led you inside. It was cozy, filled with the warmth of a lived-in space—family photos, toys scattered across the living room floor, the faint smell of something cooking. It was so different from the life you had known with him centuries ago, yet the sense of care and love was the same.

“Make yourself at home,” Marcus said, gesturing to the living room. “I’ll get dinner started. David, why don’t you help me set the table?”

David nodded and followed his father into the kitchen, but not before giving you one more curious glance. You settled onto the couch, feeling out of place and yet strangely at ease. This was Marcus’s life now, a life you had never been a part of, but somehow it still felt like home.

As they busied themselves in the kitchen, you couldn’t help but think about the enormity of what was happening. You were here, in his home, sharing a moment that felt so normal and yet carried the weight of centuries. It was a bittersweet reminder of everything you had lost and everything you still longed for.

After a few minutes, Marcus emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “Dinner’s almost ready,” he said, his voice soft. “Thanks for… well, for coming. I know it’s kind of last minute.”

You shook your head, offering him a small smile. “It’s fine. I’m happy to be here.”

He sat down across from you, leaning forward slightly, his expression thoughtful. “I meant what I said earlier. There’s something about you… something I can’t explain.” His voice was quieter now, as though he was sharing a secret. “It’s like I’ve known you forever, but I don’t know how or why.”

Your heart ached at his words, the familiar pain of your curse tugging at you. He was so close, yet so far from remembering the life you had shared. But in this moment, it was enough just to be here, to feel his presence again.

Dinner passed in a warm haze, filled with laughter and the comforting sounds of family. You enjoyed every bite, trying to savor the moment as Marcus shared stories about David's antics at school, his love for art, and the curious questions he had been asking lately. You felt a genuine connection growing, like the threads of your past weaving together with the present.

Once dinner was finished, David excused himself, yawning as he dragged his feet toward the living room. "I'm too tired to finish my project," he declared, and Marcus smiled, understanding that he was ready for bed.

“Okay, buddy, let’s get you settled,” Marcus said, ruffling his son’s hair as David headed up the stairs. After a few moments, you heard the soft sound of David’s door closing, followed by the gentle hum of a lullaby drifting down the hall.

With David tucked in, Marcus returned to the living room, a comfortable silence settling between you. He sank into the armchair across from you, and you both took a moment to collect your thoughts.

“Thanks for tonight,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours. “I didn’t expect to enjoy it so much.”

“I’m glad you did,” you replied, feeling your heart race under his gaze. “I had a great time.”

Marcus leaned back in his chair, a contemplative look crossing his face. “David has been talking about your lessons a lot lately. He’s become really obsessed with the Roman Empire.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that. “Really? That’s amazing to hear! What does he say?”

“Well,” Marcus chuckled softly, “he keeps mentioning this General Acacius as his hero. Apparently, he thinks it’s so cool that he’s a general and a fighter at the same time. I think he thinks he’s going to become a gladiator or something,” he said, rolling his eyes playfully.

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of the name. “Marcus Acacius? He’s a fascinating figure in history. He had a complex life—fighting for honor and trying to navigate the politics of his time.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “You really know your stuff, don’t you? It sounds like you’ve done quite a bit of research for your lessons.”

“I’ve always been passionate about history,” you admitted, feeling a warmth spread in your chest as you talked about your favorite subject. “Especially the stories of strong figures like him. I believe there’s so much we can learn from the past.”

“Do you think David sees himself in Acacius?” Marcus asked, leaning forward slightly, genuinely interested in your opinion.

“Perhaps,” you replied thoughtfully. “Or maybe he sees a bit of him in you” you said.

Marcus raised an eyebrow, surprise etched across his face. “In me?”

“Absolutely,” you continued, feeling the words flow more easily now. “You’re a dedicated father, and you fight for what’s best for your son, just like Acacius fought for his people. The way you support David, always encouraging his interests and nurturing his passions—that's heroic in its own right.”

He chuckled softly, a hint of embarrassment creeping into his features. “I’ve never thought of it that way. I just try to do my best for him.”

“Exactly,” you said, leaning in a little closer. “Being a hero isn’t just about great battles or glory; it’s also about the everyday moments—the sacrifices we make for the ones we love. That’s what really matters.”

Marcus’s gaze softened as he listened, and you could see him processing your words. “I guess I can see that. I want David to grow up feeling strong and capable, like he can achieve anything he sets his mind to.”

“And you’re doing just that,” you replied, your heart swelling with admiration for him. “He looks up to you, Marcus. Your presence in his life is already making a huge difference.”

The weight of his vulnerability hung in the air, and for a moment, it felt as if the world outside faded away. “You know, I never realized how much I needed this conversation until now,” he said, a genuine smile gracing his lips. “It’s refreshing to talk to someone who understands what it means to teach and inspire.”

“I’m glad,” you replied, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest.

Marcus nodded; his expression thoughtful. “Speaking of which, I actually bought a book for David the other day. It’s about Marcus Acacius—the general. I thought he might enjoy reading about a real-life hero.”

Your heart raced at the mention of the name, the connection striking a chord deep within you. “Really? I’d love to see it,” you said, your curiosity piqued.

With a spark of excitement, Marcus stood and walked toward a nearby bookshelf, scanning the titles. He pulled out a well-worn book, its cover faded but the spine intact. As he handed it to you, he said, “I thought it would be a great way to inspire him. The stories of bravery and leadership are so important, especially now.”

You opened the book and began flipping through the pages, the illustrations of ancient battles and heroic deeds instantly drawing you in. “This is wonderful, Marcus,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “David will love this.”

“I hope so,” he replied, his gaze fixed on you, watching your reaction with a mix of anticipation and pride.

As you admired the illustrations, Marcus leaned closer to look at the page you were on, his shoulder brushing against yours. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, and for a brief moment, it felt like you were back in another life, lost in a world where everything was simpler.

“This page really captures the spirit of what it means to be a hero,” you began, your voice soft yet earnest. “You know, once upon a time, a hero like Marcus Acacius fought not just for glory but for the love of those he held dear. It reminds me of the bond they shared—how love can be as powerful as any sword or shield.”

Your words hung in the air, the weight of history resonating in the silence between you. You continued, feeling emboldened by the moment. “In many ways, that love is what drove him, just as it drove someone else in a different time—someone who used to call her, mi dulce Cara’”

You glanced over at Marcus, watching as his expression shifted from curiosity to surprise. His eyes widened slightly, and he turned to face you fully. “What? How do you know that?”

The question echoed in the quiet room, and your heart raced at the realization of what you had just revealed. It was a nickname that only he had used, a term of endearment from a time long past, one that had been buried under centuries of memories and pain.

“I—” you hesitated, your mind racing as you tried to find the right words. “I guess I’ve always felt a connection to that name. It… it just came to me.”

Marcus studied you intensely, searching your eyes for answers. “But that have never been mentioned that to anyone. How could you know?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you realized how the truth was slipping through your fingers, how deeply you yearned for him to remember. “Sometimes, memories linger in the air, even when we think they’re lost,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “It’s like a whisper from the past.”

He looked at you, a mixture of confusion and intrigue swirling in his gaze. “A whisper?”

“Something like that,” you replied softly, feeling the weight of the moment settle between you. “Maybe it’s just… a feeling, or a part of a dream I once had. I can’t explain it, Marcus.”

The two of you sat there in silence, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering emotions. You could sense the gravity of the moment, the delicate thread that connected your past with the present, and you couldn’t help but hope that perhaps, just perhaps, this was the beginning of something that could bridge the gap between who you had been and who you were now.

Marcus leaned closer, his gaze intense and searching. “Dulce cara mia,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I spent years looking out for you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as the familiar phrase hung in the air, a sweet reminder of the bond you once shared. It felt as if the walls between your past and present were beginning to crumble, allowing the sunlight of long-buried emotions to seep through.

“Wait… you remember that?” you asked, your voice barely a breath.

His words were a balm to your soul, igniting a flame of hope that you had thought long extinguished. “How could I forget about you, my love?” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I've lived a thousand lives trying to find you.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as the weight of his confession settled over you like a comforting blanket. “You really mean that?” you asked, unable to hide the tremor in your voice.

“Every word,” he replied, his thumb gently brushing against your knuckles. “Even in this life, it felt as if something was missing. A part of me always knew you were out there, waiting for me.”

You felt a rush of warmth at his admission, the love that had been lost in the ages flooding back to you. “I thought I would never find you again,” you whispered, your heart aching with the bittersweet pain of your shared history. “I thought the curse would keep us apart forever.”

Marcus shook his head, his expression fierce. “No curse can hold us back. It may take a thousand lifetimes, but we always find each other. Always.”

His gaze bore into yours, filled with a fierce intensity that made your heart race. The air around you felt charged with emotion, and you could feel the weight of the moment pressing down like the world had paused just for you two.

“Every word,” he reiterated softly, nodding as he leaned in closer. The distance between you evaporated, and your breath caught in your throat as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingertips lingering against your skin. “I’ve missed you, cara,” he murmured, using that endearing name that sent shivers down your spine.

As he inched closer, the warmth radiating from him enveloped you like a comforting embrace. “I’ve spent so long searching for you,” he whispered, his lips hovering just inches from yours. “And now that I’ve found you again… I never want to let you go.”

Your heart swelled with emotion, and the tension in the air seemed to pulse with life. It felt as though everything around you faded into the background—the world, the past, the curse—all that mattered was this moment, this connection.

“Marcus,” you breathed, your voice barely audible as you leaned in, craving the touch of his lips against yours.

But then, just before your lips met, he pulled back slightly, searching your eyes with a mixture of longing and caution. “I won’t rush this. I want to savor every moment we have, to make it count.”

You nodded, your heart pounding as you took a deep breath, grounding yourself in the reality of this second chance. “I want that too,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you.

++++++

You were standing in the dimly lit corridors of the palace; the cold stone walls a stark contrast to the warmth you felt whenever Marcus was nearby. The sounds of soldiers and servants echoed faintly in the distance, but here, in this hidden alcove, the world felt small and intimate. Marcus had pulled you into the shadows, his hand firm but gentle on your arm, his eyes filled with the same intensity they held now.

“We must be careful,” you had whispered, your breath catching as he leaned in close, the smell of leather and sandalwood surrounding you. “If anyone sees us…”

But Marcus had silenced your worries with a soft kiss, his lips pressing against yours in a way that made your heart skip. “I would fight the whole empire if it meant being with you.” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

His words had sent a thrill through you, but you both knew the risks. You were not just any woman; you were the emperor’s sister, and Marcus was the empire’s fiercest general. Your love, while passionate and real, was forbidden—an act of treason in the eyes of those who held power over you.

Yet, none of that mattered when you were in his arms.

“I can’t stay away from you,” Marcus had whispered against your skin, his lips brushing the curve of your neck as he held you close. “Every moment I’m not with you feels like torture.”

You had smiled then, your hands tangling in his dark curls, pulling him closer, as if you could keep him with you forever. “We will find a way,” you had promised, though neither of you knew how. “We’ll be together, one day.”

For now, stolen kisses and secret embraces were all you had, and in those moments, it felt like enough. The weight of your circumstances melted away, leaving only the raw, unshakable truth of your love.

As Marcus kissed you again, more urgently this time, the world outside your alcove seemed to disappear. His hands traced the familiar lines of your body, and you clung to him, desperate to make the moment last, knowing it would be hours—maybe days—before you could find each other again.

“I love you,” he had breathed into your ear, his voice filled with the kind of vulnerability only you ever saw. “In this life and every life to come, Cara Mia.”

++++++

As the memory faded, you were pulled back into the present, Marcus still inches away, his intense gaze fixed on you. The warmth of that ancient kiss lingered between you, and the weight of the moment felt just as powerful now as it had back then.

His hand, still gently resting on your cheek, was real, solid, warm, and the centuries that had separated you seemed to dissolve in the space between your shared breath. The flicker of recognition deepened in his eyes, and you saw it, the understanding, the knowing.

“Cara,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve been searching for you in every life. And now, here you are, right in front of me.”

You could hardly breathe, the intensity of his presence overwhelming. “Marcus,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “All this time… it’s been you. I knew it, I felt it.”

He nodded, his thumb brushing away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. “I never forgot. Even when the memories were blurry, even when I didn’t understand… something inside me always knew.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I met many women during my life, but it was always you. I was always looking for you.”

the years of searching, of waiting, finally melting away. You could feel his love, not just from this life, but from the countless lifetimes before. He leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours, his breath mingling with your own.

“I won’t lose you again,” he whispered, his voice filled with the determination of a man who had lived a thousand lives in search of one thing, one person.

You closed your eyes, a rush of emotion flooding through you, knowing that, this time, neither of you would have to live without the other.

the reality of your curse loomed at the back of your mind, like a shadow waiting to resurface. You opened your eyes slowly, pulling back just enough to look into Marcus’s eyes. The intensity was still there, but now, mixed with something else—worry, doubt.

“But what about the curse?” you asked softly, your voice trembling with the weight of the question. “We’ve found each other again, but… what if it’s not enough? What if we’re torn apart, just like all the other times?”

“I Will break it” he said, sealing a promise.

Marcus’s words hung in the air, a declaration so filled with determination that it made your heart ache with both hope and fear. His hand tightened around yours, grounding you in the moment as he repeated, “I will break it.”

You stared at him, searching his eyes for any hint of uncertainty, but all you saw was a fierce resolve—a promise he intended to keep, no matter the cost. The weight of his vow pressed down on you, the enormity of the task, the centuries of separation, all coming to the forefront of your mind. “How?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “How can you break something that has kept us apart for so long?”

“I don’t know,” Marcus admitted, his voice unwavering. “But I do know that I’m not the same man I was before. None of those lifetimes matter without you by my side, and I will tear down the heavens if I have to, to keep you with me.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the intensity of his love for you overwhelming. You could feel the fear still lurking beneath the surface, the fear that no matter how much you wanted this, how hard you fought, the curse would come between you once again. But something in the way Marcus looked at you, the absolute certainty in his gaze, made you want to believe him.

“And if we fail?” you asked, your voice barely more than a breath, the question slipping out despite yourself. “What if we can’t break it?”

Marcus shook his head, gently cupping your face in his hands. “We won’t fail,” he said softly, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Because this time, I’m not letting you go. I’m not letting anything stand between us. I’ll break the curse or die trying.”

Tears welled in your eyes as his words sank in, the promise of his love wrapping around you like a shield. For the first time in centuries, you allowed yourself to hope. Maybe, just maybe, this time could be different.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips, breaking the heavy tension that had settled between you. “People will talk again,” you said, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “That hasn’t changed.”

Marcus’s eyes lit up, a playful glint dancing behind the intensity of his gaze. “Let them talk,” he said with a shrug, his voice full of warmth and mischief. “They’ve been talking about us for centuries. Let them have something real to talk about this time.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound breaking through the lingering shadows of fear and doubt. It was a familiar feeling, this lightness that always seemed to come when you were with him, no matter how dire the circumstances. In a world that constantly threatened to tear you apart, these moments of shared joy felt like a rebellion, a testament to the strength of your bond.

“They’re going to say I’ve bewitched you,” you teased, leaning in a little closer, savoring the warmth of his presence. “Or that you’ve gone mad.”

Marcus grinned, his thumb still gently caressing your cheek. “Maybe I have,” he said, his voice low and full of affection. “Mad with love for you.”

You rested your forehead against his once more, your breath mingling with his as you whispered, “Let them talk, then. As long as we have this, as long as we have each other, none of it matters.”

Marcus’s arms tightened around you, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. “Forever,” he whispered back, sealing the promise between you with a tender kiss.

You kissed him as though every single one of the lifetimes you had lived without him was pouring into this one moment. The touch of his lips against yours ignited something deep within you—a longing, a love, that had spanned centuries. All the heartache, all the searching, all the endless years of waiting melted away as you gave yourself fully to the kiss.

Marcus held you like he had done a thousand times before, but this time, it was different. This time, the kiss was filled with the knowledge that you had found each other again, that no matter what came next, you were together now. His hands traced the curve of your back, pulling you closer as if he were afraid you might disappear again.

You could feel the weight of all those years, all the love that had been lost and found again, in every movement, in every breath. His kiss was not just a promise but a reminder—a reminder of all the times he had loved you, all the moments you had shared in different lives, and all the moments you had missed. And now, here, you were living them all again.

When you finally pulled back, your breath coming in shallow gasps, you stared into his eyes, searching for the same fire you knew was burning inside you. It was there—strong, unwavering, eternal. “I’ve waited lifetimes for you,” you whispered, your forehead resting against his. “And I’d wait a thousand more if it meant I could be with you like this.”

Marcus’s gaze softened, and his fingers brushed tenderly against your jawline. “You won’t have to wait anymore,” he said, his voice steady and filled with love.

After the kiss, you found yourself in front of a mirror, your fingers lightly brushing over your lips, still tingling from the touch of his. The room was quiet now, the world beyond the two of you seemed distant, as though the very air had stilled to give you space for this moment. As you gazed at your reflection, a glimmer caught your eye.

There, among the strands of your hair, was a single grey hair. You reached up, gently twisting it between your fingers, a realization dawning on you with a surge of emotion. The curse. All those lifetimes, the endless cycle of living and dying, never aging, never truly being free… It was broken.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you had changed. The grey hair was proof—proof that time, real time, had touched you. Proof that you were no longer trapped in the endless loop of waiting, searching, and losing Marcus again and again.

Your heart swelled with emotion as you stared at the grey hair, a smile tugging at your lips. It wasn’t a sign of loss or fear, but of life—of the future you could now build together. The weight of your immortality, the curse that had kept you apart, had lifted.

Marcus’s reflection appeared behind you in the mirror, his eyes soft but filled with a quiet intensity. He gently placed his hands on your shoulders, his warmth grounding you in this new reality. “You see it too, don’t you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, unable to stop the tears from welling up. “It’s broken, Marcus. We’re free.”

His arms slid around you, pulling you close to his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart, the sound of it a reminder that you were no longer bound by the past. “I told you,” he whispered against your hair. “No curse can keep us apart.”

[binniesbooks]

• OFFICE WORKS

TXT 019 .F05 2024

wc 0.5k

pairings workmate!TXT x officeworker!reader

warnings smut

faye's note hard thoughts for our boys, while you guys are waiting for my upcoming fics! Hehe. Sorry for being super busyyy :<

CHOI YEONJUN

- His aura screams team leader-- who fucks every girl from your department. Totally the manwhore type of guy. He would force you to do overtime, only to have you bended on your desk, balls deep inside you.

"I know and I can see you how you look at me, baby."

"The rumors? Hmm, what do you think?"

"Fuck, I really love untouched women like you."

"Shit, you're so tight."

"Haven't felt such a good pussy for a long time."

"Damn, your pussy feels better than (insert co-workers name)."

"Should've done this a lot earlier, shit you're so fucking good!"

CHOI SOOBIN

- The pervert desk mate. Yes. He loves peeking when your skirt hikes up a little. Gets hard whenever he sees you walking towards your desk. Often fantasizes about groping your ass and fucking your breast. Carefully and silently palms himself whenever you're too immersed on your work. Would masturbate imagining you after arriving home, still on his office attire. Offers you a "water" to sober up one time after volunteering to take you home after a team dinner. A total pussy drunk once he got his dick wet.

"Ah, fuck, I really wanted to feel you."

"Please, one chance Y/n."

"Fuck, you're so hot."

"My hand perfectly fits on your breast, I think they're made for me."

"Can i fuck your tits, pretty please?"

"You're so good, pussy so good."

"Please let me cum inside you."

"I'll take full responsibility, please."

CHOI BEOMGYU

- Another workmate, your rival for your aimed position. He loves teasing you and getting into your nerves. Would purposely knock your coffee over your paper works. Often makes a bet with you.

"I didn't mean it, it's just an accident."

"If you make me cum, I'll withdraw, if you cum first, you need to withdraw from the position."

"Fuck, wait fuck!"

"Shit! Shit! M-move! Fuck!"

"Ahh! Fuck you."

KANG TAEHYUN

- The boss. Bossy. Bitch. Whatever it is. He loves commanding you. Loves to use you when he's stressed out. Fucks you like there's no tomorrow whenever he is angry. Please scratch his back with your nails, he loves it.

"Fuck them! Fuck them all!"

"God, they don't have any single idea about what's going on and they judge as if they know everything--- you're so fucking tight!"

"Get on your knees, I'm stressed."

"Do they even know how I made it up here?"

"Stop moving and complaining! I don't fucking care if it hurts already! I'm not yet done!"

HEUNING KAI

- He is just a cute intern. The one who loves to get your attention by asking work related questions which he clearly knows already. Would blush and get hard from the slightest touch, like when you tap his shoulder to try and cheer him up or when you intertwined your arms on his while happily telling him a story. And one day, he just traps you inside the rest room and practically begs you to jack him off.

"Please? I just need you."

"I promise, I'll behave."

"Please, please please."

"Mmpph! N-no I'm not noisy."

"Oh, fuck m-more."

"S-stop now, s-stop."

@binniesbooks 2024

[sarah-bear706318]

Summary: When Tyler's baby sister joins him and his team for a season she seems to catch the eye of a certain StormPar member much to her brothers dismay... will she listen listen to her big brother or follow her heart?

Pairing: Scott Miller X fem!reader, Tyler Owens x sister!reader

Warnings: Sneaking around, Pissed off Tyler, Love Struck Scott, ALOTS of kissing, A little age gap, Cussing, Drinking, Storms(duh), Falling in love, Slow burn

A/N: This is my first series so any feedback would be amazing! There isn't much Scott in this chapter but there will be plenty of him in future chapters. I'm writing this with the help of @nikkicloudie she save me the idea for it! Go check out her stories there are amazing!!!

You loved storms just as much if not more then your older brother Tyler. You were 10 years younger then him but you were one in the same. You even followed in his foot steps and majored in Meteorology but, you took it a step further and got your PhD in it at UT Austin. You had just graduated early and your brother was proud so as your graduation gift your brother invited you to join him and the wranglers for the season. It took you all of .5 seconds to say yes.

You still weren't sure what you were gonna do with your degree you had a few job offers from different places but joining your brother could hopefully help you figure it all out. Hey you may even follow in your brothers foot steps even more and become a storm chaser who's knows your life was just starting and anything was a possibility!

It was early evening when your plane landed. After getting your suitcases from baggage claim you're off to find your brother. While looking around you all of a sudden feel 2 arms from behind left you in the air.

"Baby sister" you hear from behind you. You turn around and see your brother's big smiling face. You wrap your arms around his neck and squeeze as hard as you can. "I'm so happy you're here" "I am too I miss you big brother" he hugs you back and give you a kiss on your temple "I've missed you too sis, come one let's get your stuff in the truck the rest of the crew are waiting for you they can't wait to see you"

You couldn't wait to see the crew you loved them almost as much as your brother.

The ride to the hotel was 45 minutes away from the airport and the ride was filled with stories about about chases the crew have done and some new research they have and things you've been up to since graduation. You haven't seen your brother since Thanksgiving so it was nice to be spending time with him for the next few months.

Once you pull into the hotel parking lot you saw a lot of other storm chasing teams and of course you see the wranglers. When Tyler parks the truck you barley have time to get out before you have a pair of arms around your waist and your feet lifted off the ground. "Dr.Owens you're finally here"

"Boone oh my God put me down before you drop me" you say as you kick your feet

"Boone don't break my sister she just got here" Tyler says shaking his head making his way around the truck.

"I'd never drop my favorite Owens" Boone says with a big smile.

Boone finally puts you back on your feet so you can hug and greet the others. You all decide to hang around, have a few beers and catch up. Everyone is just how you remembered and you know its gonna be a great time. You are about 3 beers in and laughing at some story Boone was telling but unbeknownst to you your laughter had got the attention of another storm chaser and he couldn't take his eyes off you.

Across the parking lot Scott is standing by one of StormPars trucks uploading data to his laptop when he hears a beautiful laugh. His head shots up and sees not only is the laugh beautiful but it's coming from the more beautiful girl he's ever seen and he can't help but stare.

"Hey man you get that data in the system yet" Javi asks as he walks up to the truck. Scott snaps out of the trance he's in and looks to Javi "oh just about done" he says looking back at his laptop.

"Hey who's the new girl over there with Owens" Scott ask eyes still looking down tapping away "she a new hillbilly member?" Javi looks over to Tyler and and his crew to see who Scott is talking about.

"Nah dude that's Y/N Owens Tyler's little sister, she just graduated from UT Austin with her PhD in Meteorology. She's hella smart not to mention drop dead gorgeous don't ya think" Javi says "She's ok i guess". Scott says with a shug, he couldn't let Javi think he had a thing for Tyler's sister could he it would ruin his hard ass imagine.

Back over across the lot the wranglers are still having their reunion with Y/N. "As much fun as this all has been we gotta get to bed got a long day of chasing tomorrow ahead of us radar looking really promising" Tyler says to his crew and sister.

"Hopefully I get to get up close and inside a tornado tomorrow" you say beaming with the biggest smile. "More like your big brother everyday" Tyler says with a laugh pulling you into a hug.

As the crew is putting all their equipment away you and Tyler grab your bags from the bed of his truck. "You think you packed enough stuff Y/N, you know we are chasing tornados not trying out for that modeling show" Tyler says as he grabs 2 of your bags and looking at the other 2 smaller ones still laying in the back of the truck.

"One that show is Americas next top model and 2 I came straight from school so I had to bring everything that was in my dorm, I'll sort it all out and send the rest to mom and dads" you say rolling your eyes. "Plus you there are some pretty cute storm chasers in this lot never know when ill need a sexy outfit" you say throwing a wink to the crew who bust out laughing knowing how protective Tyler is of you.

"No that's not happening " Tyler says looking at you while handing you one of your smaller bags. You look at him and rolls your eyes while taking the bag from him " Yeah ok" is the only thing you say with a smirk.

"You ok with sharing a room with your big brother tonight? They only had 3 rooms left when we got here" Tyler ask while making you way to the stairs. "Yeah that's fine use to do it when we were kids". You make your way up the stairs to the room you and your brother were sharing carrying the 2 smaller bags. When you got to the door Tyler is looking for the key, he finally finds the card and goes to unlock the door but instead of a green light on the handle its red. "Shit stay here I need to go get a new card".

Tyler leaves you on the second floor while he goes to get a new key. You walk over to the railing cross your arms over it and look out at all the other storm chasing teams. As you're looking over the rail you spot a group of chasers looking way more professional then anyone else in the parking lot. Along with the group you a tall muscular guy in a ballcap catches you eye and all you can think of is how insanely good looking he is. Your focus on the cute guy is broken by your brothers voice.

"Got a new key" Tyler says. "Bless you big brother I'm so ready for a shower, food, and sleep in that order". As Tyler opens the door you peak over your shoulder and you swear you see the cute guy looking at you with a smirk.

Tyler orders pizza for the 2 of you while you get in the shower. It was nice to wash away your day of travel. You stayed in the shower longer then you normally would have but the hot water felt amazing you couldn't help it. You get out and start to dry yourself off when your brother yells to you the pizza was delivered.

The rest of the night spent eating pizza, watching tv, and doing more catching up with your brother. "Thank you for inviting me Ty it means a lot. I still don't know what I'm gonna do my new fancy degree I'm hoping being here and chasing will help me figure it out" you say looking at your brother. "I'm happy to help you figure it out sis" Tyler says with a smile.

When the pizza is on gone and you have cleaned up the mess you crawl into your bed with a loud sigh. Tyler laughs and shakes his head. "I've stayed in this hotel before the beds are not that good" "They so when you've been traveling all day and had a 3 hour delay in Austin" You say as you close your eyes. "Ok well I'm going to take a shower you need to get some sleep got a long day of storm chasing ahead, and with any luck you will be inside your first tornado" your brother says while grabbing his shower things and clothes.

"Can't wait" you mumble not able to keep your eyes open any longer. You couldn't wait for your first real chase and with any luck you would see the cute tall guy with the ballcap.

[bokettochild]

So the thing about a lot of Prince! Legend reveal fics is that they miss out on all the juicy bits of the aftermath. Warriors thinking of Legend as like this secretly honorable, noble person who should be protected as he carries the precious blood of Hylia

And then Legend tells Warriors to piss off and wins a battle competition for best trick shot kill and Warriors has to reconcile both images of Legend in his head

Legend meanwhile sees Wars treating him differently and is paranoid about waking up with a knife in his back bc he's a stain on the Royal legacy due to being a boy/raised as a commoner/rude

And then Sky wants to connect to Legend as family and Legend wants to stay away from any reminders that he's royalty

And his Hyrule! Have the guards gotten over the mind control and respect him but he doesn't trust them still? The royal knights he grew up knowing and trusting until his first adventure? Do the villagers of each town acknowledge him? Do they know there's a prince but not that it's Link? Do they think of him as a rags to riches story or as a class traitor?

There's so much good shit I don't see explored a lot in the prince!legend headcanon that I would love to see and so I'm excited about you seemingly want to focus on this rather than just the shock value

I'm so glad you're excited! I actually haven't seen the poll results yet, but the reception in the comments/tags has been overall very positive and encouraging, so i think i'll probably be writing this thing LOL

There is a lot of change I want to explore with the fic, but while fluff is a must, I probably will touch on the heavier aspects of what Legend's being a prince would mean for him, Hyrule, and the systems in his world in general.

I sort of like the idea of his lineage being an open secret to those who knew him growing up because he's a dead-ringer for the late queen, and since he never knew that, he's never made an effort to hide it. While there might be some who think of him as a class-traitor, I don't think it would be that many of them, since he does work for a living, doesn't live like a prince by any stretch of the word, and never puts on airs or treats the people of Hyrule like they're below him. He's hard working, helps anyone who asks, and generally is a decent guy, so the people who are most affronted at his existence would probably be other nobles/religious folks.

Wariors and Wild will probably both be having a lot of conflict with trying to reconcile the ornery vet to a prince, especially when he is still very much a teenager, but I think, since Sky and Legend are pretty close already in cannon, they'd come out okay.

My take on Sky probably doesn't care much about the royal part of things, just that Legend is family, and considering most of Legend's family was killed by Ganon, I think he'd enjoy having that.

Anyways, the shock factor will probably play a role, at least at the start as everyone finds out, but yes, I want to go beyond just the initial realization we all like playing with and actually dig into the world-building and dynamics and how Legend's being a prince effects all of that!

[davey-in-a-minivan]

Isabel Lovelace My Absolute Beloved

Lovelace is one of my favorite examples of one of my favorite kinds of characters, which is: woman who the world is trying so hard to kill and emerges beat up and spitting out teeth and still going.

(Relatedly, Eva Olivia Moreno is one of the few White Vault characters I really loved and it's on the strength of the joy I felt when i realized that not only had Eva NOT died when a rockslide separated her from the team, but instead dragged herself three days over the mountains, alone, covered in mud and blood and bruises, WITH ALL THE TEAM'S DATA DRIVES, to let the world know what was going on and demand rescue for the others. LOVE HER. Alessandra "Cockroach" Strong of the Penumbra Podcast ALSO falls into this category and I would've loved to see more of her)

Interestingly, I think Lovelace plays a similar role in-universe for Eiffel and Minkowski, in that they first encounter her as a 'character' in old audio logs whose survival they are rooting for at a remove -- when Eiffel and Minkowski listen to her logs but it's unclear whether she made it off the station, Eiffel shushes Minkowski's skepticism and says "let me have my badass space commando chick!!" In the absence of conclusive evidence he clings to the idea that she survived, for what i suspect are two reasons: (1) it means it's possible to survive and gives him and Minkowski a sliver of hope, and (2) it's not fair for her to die after trying so hard to save herself and her crew, and if she survived he can believe that there's some fairness in the universe.

After Kepler shoots Lovelace, Minkowski tells an imagined Lovelace how badly she wanted to get Lovelace home because she wanted to believe that she could go home, which feels like an echo of Eiffel's earlier sentiment--obviously by now Minkowski knows and cares about Lovelace as a person, but she's also a symbol of the ultimate survivor, who will do whatever it takes to get home. If Lovelace, who fought harder and longer, with more skill and fewer limits than Minkowski finds herself capable of, and still didn't survive, what chance is there for Minkowski and her crew?

WHICH MAKES IT SO FUCKING SATISFYING WHEN LOVELACE LIVES AGAIN.

I need you all to know--Lovelace was "dead" for, what, an episode??--in that time my then-roommate and I put up a SHRINE to her memory. She was too cool and tragic and extreme and funny and hot to die!!!

I'm very glad the universe and Gabriel Urbina agreed.

It's not only satisfying because I'm obsessed with her and wanted her back (which I admit freely). It's a riveting development in the story of the unkillable Captain Lovelace where we finally see that she CAN'T be killed because she's already dead. Functionally she's a ghost in the story, haunting the Hephaestus until she finishes her unfinished business, and there's a delightful sheen of destiny to her arc where I was like oh fuck they've already done their worst to her and she's still going. She's going to win this. I don't know what it'll cost her, this could still be a tragedy, but she's GOING to succeed.

What does this mean for the rest of the original crew looking to her as a symbol? Eiffel, Minkowski and Hera do survive, like Lovelace. It is possible. But it costs them a lot. Weeks after Lovelace dies, resurrects, and has the day-ruining revelation that she's actually the alien clone of the dead woman she thought she was haha, she talks about the discomforting effort she makes to be the real Lovelace, not the person that Goddard turned her into. I think once they return to Earth the rest of the crew will struggle in similar ways. Minkowski need to believe that Lovelace could come home, and she did. But none of them could be the same as they were before.

Now, obviously the extremes Lovelace had to go to in pursuit of survival and justice were difficult and upsetting for her. But they were also hot!! SO let's wrap this up with some of the most iconic Lovelace moments according to me:

1. The "run and hide" monologue Eiffel and Minkowski find - HOT. sorry i know this comes on the heels of her describing the harrowing tragedy of her crew members' deaths but like

that's hot!!! go girl, kill em all!!!

2. THE DEAD MAN'S SWITCH. she said im going big AND going home, through the power of insane resourcefulness and this nuclear bomb i made

3. "variations on a theme" is suuuch a good minisode

4. disabling the airlock during the clone jacobi situation without telling anyone

5. NAPALM

6a. broadly, the hostage situation during the coup, where she goads kepler into focusing on her instead of eiffel

6b. SPECIFICALLY the part of the hostage situation where she gets the show's one "fuck"

7. alien possession lovelace!!!! i know it wasn't quite her melting kepler's hand off but god it's a fun scene

8. time loop lovelace. i love a good time loop and the contrast between her yelling and goading and shooting things in the last argument but also being, like, pretty chill and pragmatic about it--this is just her method of causing enough trouble to break the loop--is fun

9. hera's and her intersecting journeys re: what it means to be a person

10. distracting cutter so minkowski can stab him with the harpoon!!!!!!

in conclusion: WHAT A CHARACTER

[bullet-prooflove]

Question can you number 8) Something must've changed your mind But I don't want to know about it from Thursday ‘Western Style' Radio Prompt List please

Okay as we can see I have no idea how prompt requests work lol 😂

Tagging: @kmc1989 @fandom-oneshots-etc @sealteambravo @icyybecca @xmoonknightlyx

Companion piece to:

Buried Socks: Ceberus has a unique way of showing how much he misses you.

Hammer: You realise you can't give Brock what he wants.

It’s a few weeks later that Brock returns home to find you sitting at the kitchen table, your dufflebag emptied out, your clothes already in the machine. He doesn’t know where you’ve been, only that your location was classified and you haven’t been in contact. He suspects somewhere warm from the tan that graces your skin. Mexico or South America.

Cerebus and Pepper swarm towards you excitedly, tails wagging as they snuffle at your outstretched palms. They hate it just as much as he does when you’re away, it’s why there’s a thousand of your socks buried somewhere in the flowerbeds.

“You sticking around for a while?” He asks as he leans in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. His grey vest clings to his skin from the run he’s just taken with the dogs as he tilts his head to study you.

The truth is, part of him didn’t expect you to come home after the revelation that he wanted to start a family. The two of you have never talked about it, because for you it’s never been an option. Even if you hadn’t been injured by that RPG, he isn’t sure if it would ever have been a factor for you.

“I want to.” You say softly as you kiss the top of Pepper’s head. “But you know what it’s like when duty calls.”

He does because his own duty is about to come calling. They’d got the op details last night and Brock is shipping out tomorrow morning. He doesn’t want to go to the Sudan to help capture a warlord if the two of you still have this hanging over you.

“When I said I wanted a family-” He begins, rubbing his palm over the back of his neck. “-it doesn’t have to be our own.”

Your eyebrows furrow into a quizzical frown and he realises his words, they don’t make sense, not to you. He sighs as he takes the seat close to you, his hands smoothing over Cerebus’s head, scratching him behind the ears before he tilts his head up to meet your gaze.

“I mean that we can foster or adopt,” He tells you because he’s been giving this a lot of thought over the past few days. The family he wants, it’s with you. How it happens doesn’t matter, so long as the two of you are doing it together. “It doesn’t have to be our own baby…”

“What does that look like for us?” You ask him as you reach for his hand. “With our lives, with our jobs…”

“I guess that’s what we have to figure out.” He tells you, entwining his fingers with yours. “Is that something you think we can do together?”

“Yea.” You say quietly, squeezing his hand tightly. “Yea, it is.”

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[writingquestionsanswered]

Worried About Plagiarizing Narrative Style

Anonymous asked: I've been sitting on this book for years now, stuck due to writer's block, but even though I've gotten out of that space and am writing more, I'm ready to write my draft and just can't. I'm struggling to draw a line between inspiration and plagiarism. I want to write a fantasy book that jumps between characters in the present telling the story of the past, but I recently started watching the Interview with the Vampire series, which uses that same format. Now I can't decide if I'm stealing the idea or not. Even if not, it'll seem that way because my story is similar to that story.

[Ask edited for length]

Multi-POV (jumping between different characters' points-of-view) and non-linear narrative (such as jumping back and forth between the present and the past) are widely used narrative techniques, even in combination. Interview with the Vampire wasn't the first to use these techniques (even in combination), and isn't the last, so no... you're not stealing an idea if you use one or both of these techniques.

You say your story is similar to IwtV, but although I didn't include your story summary here, I read it and it's only similar in very distant, general ways. In no way is your story similar enough that anyone would think it was plagiarism, even if you used the same narrative techniques as IwtV. In fact, I promise there are other stories about actual vampires that use those two narrative techniques in combination, and those aren't plagiarism, either, as long as the actual characters and stories are different enough.

So, go ahead and use these techniques if you want to use them and don't worry about similarities. Even if you intentionally borrowed one or two elements from IwtV, that's fine. Writers are inspired by other stories all the time. What matters is that when they do borrow things from other stories, they make them different and make them their own.

Here are some previous posts that go into more detail about the differences between similarities and plagiarism:

Similarities vs Plagiarism Plagiarism vs Reference vs Inspiration Taking Inspiration from Another Story’s Premise Afraid of Plagiarism Accusation

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[gothic-thoughts]

Hello! 👋🏾 Your knight!Ghost and Princess!reader was so fun to read｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´⁠∩⁠`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡

If you feel like it, Could you do a continuation? Like where ghost escorts her through the village because she kept complaining about it( and maybe they do something semi-public, like in the carriage or any alleyway)

Or maybe something risky in the palace, or just furthering their escapades in her bedroomJust some ideas!

I write too, so I get if you're not inspired by this or if you are and it takes a while lol

just hope it sparked some ideas(⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

All of them did thx sm 🙏🏾💙💙 I made this story a lot deeper than it was 😅😅 long story incoming

Part 1 is right here, but it's not required to read this tho

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

The Truth

Ghost Riley x Black Fem Reader Angsty Smut

MDNI, Virgin!Reader, Princess!Reader, Black Knight!Ghost

CW: a lil angsty corruption kink??, semi-public smashing (castle library), afab parts, talking through it, fingering, riding

Word Count: 2525 (give or take)

Even after Ghost touched her in the bathtub, the Princess was still hellbent on seeing the fountain near the village entrance or the village in general, and not just from her balcony. The Black Knight wasn’t verbally rejecting her request anymore, opting to stand there with folded arms and cold eyes.

"What the hell is so special about that damn fountain, anyway?"

“I don't know! I’ve seen people throw coins into it after making a wish and I have to try it! It’s unfair!”

"What’s unfair is you being so hellbent on getting yourself killed. Are you in denial at how dangerous your town is?”

“Ugh, now you sound like my father; it's our village, why would my people want to hurt me?”

He raised his eyebrows as his eyes widened.

"You...think... the people in this village actually care about you?"

“Um, of course they do.” She laughs, backing up, “Did you forget I’m the princess? They may not know me to love me, but they surely care.”

"Oh they care alright— they care how easy you’ll be to rob... or worse.”

“Oh please, Simon, that’s a bit dramatic.”

“The moment you walk out there unprotected, they'd rip you apart. Just be thankful you haven’t been caught by anyone out there when you sneak out."

“I don't believe that...”

"You don't believe it?"

“No.”

“Jesus, your father’s a worse King than I thought. Makes sense he’s an even worse father.”

“Hey! He may be a pain, but watch your tongue.”

“I’ll watch my tone when he goes back in time and tells his daughter what people do when they’re desperate, especially the people in this town. Because I can tell you holding people for ransom, robbing and even killing is never off the table— they might even do it for fun.”

“Simon, stop!”

He laughs, “You know what, I’ll teach you myself. Maybe there’s a book in the library on betrayal and human nature.”

“You mean any book in there that I somehow haven't read a thousand times?”

“Let’s go, it'll give you something to do besides complain and piss me off all night."

Ghost steps out of the way to reveal the door across her room, gesturing for her to take the lead, allowing (Y/n) to lead. Once in the library, the Princess walked through the biology books, calling out everyone that she’d read already— and she was right, it was most if not all. They then moved to the history book aisle, her fingers skimming past all the books' spines while her guard followed close behind silently, watching.

“Find anything yet?”

She groans, turning to face him. “Of course not, maybe because I read all these already! Ugh, besides some of them are missing.”

Ghost raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean missing?”

“These books have been lost for forever, I think.”

“And nobody has tried to look for them?"

“I don't know, my father told me they went missing around the time he became King.”

“Around? Lost? What could've possibly happened to these books for them to just disappear?"

“I don't know, perhaps they were lost in the move...”

He almost laughs, "Lost in the move?"

“Don’t laugh! He’s not of royal blood, he was elected in by the old King before he passed!”

“Oh, I know; the biggest news in the land was when a common blacksmith took his place.”

“Simon—” 

“But you’ve never seen a bookstore, so you wouldn’t know that most books don’t look like...” He gestures to the golden spines on the shelves, “...This. So a common blacksmith couldn’t have bought them.” 

“I... I-I don’t know! I never really noticed or thought about until now... I was too young and they’re just books so I never asked again...”

"Good, you're learning.”

“Why would he hide books...?”

Ghost crossed his arms, giving (Y/n) a look as if it were a rhetorical question.

"Do you really have to ask? There is a reason he keeps you in this castle, isolated and dumb like this."

She blinks, “...Because I'm young...?”

“Because your father knows what those villagers are capable of."

“But all the times I snuck out, the few people I met were nice... They had to have known, the only I don't wear is my jewelry.”

"Why’s that?”

“In case something falls off while I'm sneaking out and leaves evidence to my routes...”

He chuckled, "You may be craftier than I initially thought."

“I'm naïve, not stupid.”

The Princess starts to walk to the bookkeeper’s desk to see if the books are over there, impressing Ghost with her newfound determination. She climbs over the desk and crouches under to look for the books and to her surprise, there is a stack of missing books sitting right where the bookkeeper would be standing. She gasps and grabs them, standing back up to place the 10 books on the desk for Ghost to see while she reads off the titles.

“So, she...” (Y/n) trails off, “The bookkeeper knew about this too...”

"Do you trust her?”

“I trust all the staff... at least I did.” The Princess gasps, “That's why he hired you to watch me— cuz a Black Knight wouldn't be as lenient with me as a palace guard.”

He smiled and uncrossed his arms. "You're catching on, Princess. Well done."

“Should I read them...? I feel like it maybe too much information, especially in one night.”

“I could give you a summary of what might be in those books.”

“What, then tell me!”

"Do you really want to hear my thoughts, Princess?”

“Yes, all of them, everything.” 

“You aren't going to like it.”

“That’s probably why it was hidden from me, isn’t it?”

The Princess carefully jumps back over the desk and adjusts her nightgown before walking over to the lounging area of the library, causing a sly smirk to slowly form on his lips somewhat amused by her eagerness. She sat on the couch closest to the fireplace while Ghost stood in front of the couch opposite of her, silently gathering his thoughts before walking closer to (Y/n)’s sitting form.

"Your people are not kind." His boots thumped as he walked closer, “You're smart to sneak out at night because not only will the guards bring you back, but your townspeople are some of the most aggressive, opportunistic people I've ever encountered."

(Y/n)’s smile fades, eyes widening as they search his eyes for any sign of a joke.

"Maybe it was the King before your father or the one before that, but your father has yet to try to do anything about it.”

“Well, he—” 

“And he won't." He knelt before the couch and looked her straight in the eyes, "And you know how I know?"

She swallows thickly, shaking her head. Ghost leans closer, his hands gripping the arm of the couch as he leans forward.

"Because in the time he became king to right this second, he had a goddamn daughter that's now 20 years old.”

Her jaw dropped with a sharp inhale. Her eyes slowly drifted to the floor where he was crouching, heart panging as a sick feeling of guilt bubbled in the pit of her stomach.

“He had over 2 decades to do something about the people in this town— but didn't. And now here you are, sitting in this palace not knowing a goddamn thing about the place you're meant to rule.”

“He wouldn’t, he’s just... He....”

“Now, I don't blame you, how could I? You're the only one who's in the dark about all this because he doesn't want his ‘precious daughter’ hurt.”

“See? He cares... about me at least...” 

“And I don’t doubt he was going to keep this from you until you became Queen to make it your burden."

“What, no... My father—”

“Planned on teaching you nothing before shoving you into your new position? That's why I hate him-- that's why I could give a damn about consequences, ‘cuz there are none. Not even for touching his daughter in her bathtub."

(Y/n) gasps, looking back up with wide eyes and a burning face, the sight forcing an amused smirk to appear under the Black Knight’s mask.

"Oh don't look so horrified.” He rested his hand on her thigh, caressing the inside just like he did in the bath, “Remember, you tried to seduce me first."

Her thighs tremble, closing under the blue silk of the sleeping gown, “Then you already got your revenge; you don't have to taunt like this.”

"I'm not taunting you, Princess. Merely telling you all my thoughts, just like you asked. And I do so enjoy how easy it is to get a rise out of you.”

He continued to rub his hand along her inner thigh, a sly smile under that skull mask of his.

She scoffs, “But when I do so, it's wrong...”

"You need to be careful how you go about things, Princess.”

“Oh is that so?”

“Yes. For example, your method of 'accidentally' forgetting your towel is a very subtle tactic and if I was one of your stupid palace guards, I would've fallen for it. But mine...” He suddenly gripped her thigh firmly and separated it from the other, making her gasp, “Is much more direct.”

“Then.... You should teach me more...”

He chuckled softly and shook his head, his hand started to slowly slide further up her thigh, “And what makes you think I'd be willing to teach you a goddamn things like this?”

“Because you're the only one that's taught me anything.”

He paused for a second to think. 

"Put your legs on my shoulders and lean back."

“R-Right now?”

“No time like present. Especially, we’re less likely to get found.”

Looking down at him, the Princess slowly leans back on the couch and places the soles of her feet on him, the chill of his armored shoulders making her shiver. He smiled under his mask as his hand slipped under her gown to trace small circles on the inside of her thighs. He slowly lifted the silk over his head and pulled her hips closer to the edge of the couch cushions until he was sure she couldn't see his face before finally tugging his mask under his chin. She gasps when he tugs her underwear to the side before gripping the armrest of the couch at the feeling of his warm, plump lips wrapping around her tiny bud.

Ghost’s tongue gently caresses sensitive clit in circles in a way her fingers have never done. She looked down at her dress where his head was with a slack jaw in shock at his ability to make her feel this good already. His fingers were one thing but this was another. Every lick and swirl of his tongue was another whine or squirm from her, causing Ghost to grip her thighs even firmer.

“O-Oh my gods... How are you...?”

“Hush... Shh...” His voice was muffled, his mouth refusing to stop, “Just feel...”

“But it’s too good... I don’t know what to do...”

She could feel her smirk against her folds before sucking harder until her legs tremble as they try to close around his head. Try. He closes his eyes as he angles her hips upward to be able to push his tongue inside, slurping and flicking her insides with soft grunts from under her sleeping gown. (Y/n)’s hips buck and stutter until she finally cums with a yelp of his name.

He retracts his tongue from her and watches her cunt pulse while listening to her pants and gasps from inside the silk. He then drags his tongue across her folds one last time, cleaning off her excess slick before pulling his mask back up and standing up to nonchalantly sit next to her quivering body. She pants, turning her head to aim her glassy eyes at him. 

“Wh-what now?”

“Now...” He slowly undoes his belt, “You’re gonna sit on my lap and give yourself some pleasure.”

“But I thought the man was supposed to be on top of the woman.”

Ghost chuckles, “That’s one way of doing it. But I don’t wanna be too rough on you for your first time so I’ll let you take over. So c’mon, you’re wet enough.”

(Y/n)’s eyes widen as his hand reaches into his pants and pulls out his hard cock, letting it stand erect from his pants. She takes a deep breath.

“So that’s why you...”

“Ate you out? Part of the reason; it’s also just a way to get you even more turned on.”

The Princess slowly climbs onto Ghost’s lap and straddles him while holding his shoulders to keep her soaking wet cunt hovered above his tip. His chin was angled up, observing how her nervous gaze looked all around, seemingly worried about his size so the knight softly grabbed her hips to get her attention.

“Oi.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Relax... Remember, you’re in control and I’m right here.”

With that notion, she slowly lowered herself onto him, biting her lip to keep her discomforting groans from echoing in the library. Her fingers dug into the metal of his shoulder armor as her body adjusted to him—  the slick from her earlier orgasm helping like he said it would and more than she thought. Her face contorted in displeasure, her eyes shut tight from every inch but suddenly fly open when his cockhead hits something inside her— something his fingers and tongue hit, but somehow even better. The Black Knight stifles his laugh with a groan.

“You felt that huh?” His voice drops to a whisper, “Hit it again.”

With the guidance of his hands, the Princess lifts and drops herself on his cock, hitting her spot over and over again and understanding what he meant by giving herself some pleasure. Her eyes flutter shut again as she creates her own slow, steady rhythm up and down on his lap, her ass lightly slapping against his thighs with each drop. Ghost groans, making her open her eyes in time to see his head tilt back on the couch with his own eyes shut.

“Are you alright?”

“Never better....” He pants, “Never fucking better, just keep going.”

“Can I go faster?”

“Fuck, please yes.”

Her hands grip his shoulders harder and she bounces faster, whimpering at the way his thick, veiny shaft drags against her walls. His pants come through his mask, making his hands tighten on her hips. The Princess leans forward to rest her forehead on his shoulder to which he pulls her closer, pressing their chests together. His arms wrap around her and his hands hold her ass cheeks to help her bounce faster, their grunts and moans softly echoing off the walls along with the slapping crackling of the fireplace. It wasn’t long before her hips started to grind back and forth on his lap to fight off the growing pressure in her body.

“No, keep going. That’s a good thing.” He murmurs, loving the fluttering clenches around his cock, “A great fuckin’ thing, keep doing that ‘til you’re done.”

“What about—”

“I’m the teacher, all you gotta worry about is keeping that pretty voice down.”

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(a/n): sorry its so late loves, I got a cold and then a job lmao🤣😂

[nico-esoterica]

Controversial take, maybe? Nah, it won't be.

It's the Law of 'You.'

It's all about You and what you say is true consistently. You don't have to listen to anyone's rules or guidelines you don't resonate with. You also don't have to force yourself to think or 'do' anything. That includes trying to make a concept work and click that you see success stories from but you simply don't align with. You don't like the person, the phrasing, it gives you the ick or makes you uncomfortable/anxious, whatever.

That doesn't mean you're missing out. Everyone gets what they want by thinking it's theirs regardless of negative thoughts, shitty feelings, history or circumstances. You can call it assuming, being, knowing, attracting, creating, whatever you want. Then continuing to choose that story. You can even forget about it! You didn't change your mind about it so it'll still happen.

You can also mix and match. You can have a soup of different supposedly opposing spiritual ideas and beliefs and say they all work and are compatible because you say so! Believe in magic! Organized religion! A pantheon of deities! Saturn whipping your ass to make you learn! Pixies, Lucifer, and Krishna, baby.

A deity literally blew up my spiritual line recently because she fucks with me being powerful and wanted to give me advice. A Goddess recognizing a Goddess. And she was FINE with me not worshipping her despite her having worshippers. I could just tell that she just loves my energy and my potential and wanted to bless me with wisdom and it's appreciated. But I don't worship anyone other than myself :) However, that was a great experience and I was open to it. I can do it all!

There doesn't have to be consequences, divine punishment, or your religious traumatized ass whipping yourself through guilt because you think you need to be reprimanded for thinking you're 'grown enough' to assume control. Be logical, illogical, think like a child or in magical terms, use placebos for everything and fuhgetaboutit, whatever you want! There are NO rules unless you decide you wanna adhere to some. Nothing can occur without your permission, baby, because you can assign new meanings to anything in life you want. If something unfavorable happens, you change the meaning or how you perceive it.

CREATING YOUR REALITY SHOULD FEEL EASY, FUN, AND SEXY. YOU'RE THE CAPTAIN SO DRIVE THE DAMN BOAT!!!!

[thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai]

Hi, I'm your friendly fanfiction writer from the neighbourhood

Since I'm mostly known on this site for reblogging fanart and figure skating things, let it be known that I also write Yuri!!! On Ice fanfiction.

You might probably wonder what you need yet another fanfiction writer for when the YOI fandom has already all the fanfictions a reader's heart might desire.

In this case, let me tell you this:

Every fanfiction writer has their own reasons to write, their goals what they want to achieve with their writing, and their own vision of the story they want to tell. It makes their stories unique.

I write pre-, during and post-canon fanfiction. My goal is to expand the story of Yuri!!! On Ice and to preserve its spirit in my works and to continue the characters' stories—and that's especially true for Yuuri and Viktor because they're everything to me.

As a canon writer my writing is defined by my Prime Directive (yes, like in Star Trek):

I do not distort canon. I do not make up stuff that does not match the characters' personalities in any way. I do not project myself into the characters beyond the traits that I share with them. Because if I did that, I would betray what YOI is to me and the stories I want to tell in that universe. Of course, developing a character beyond their canon self is inevitable in the long run because people change and whenever I do that I'm careful to make that addition plausible.

If that sounds like your cup of tea, I invite you to check out my ongoing works:

Can You Hear My Heartbeat is my 350k YOI novelisation and the first part of my A Dream Too Large To Bear Alone series. I often call it my love letter to YOI for quite a number of good reasons: It's a character and relationship study of Yuuri and Viktor that takes a deep dive into Japanese culture and the summer of mutual pining. If you love figure skating, kinky!Eros Yuuri and sweet, steamy, and smutty viktuuri moments and if you want to explore what the boys are up to between the episodes that we all love so dearly, this story is for you. There are only a couple of chapters left to post. If you start reading now, you can read the whole story in one go and then move on to the sequel, which I'm going to post right afterwards. And to give you an idea what the continuation will be about: Yuuri and Viktor will finally move in together and get ready for going from husbands to rivals on the ice.

Beneath the Shine of a Thousand Spotlights is a pre-canon story that explores Viktor's life before he became Yuuri's coach. It's a prequel to my series for all lovers of Vitya that want to get to know him and his struggles as an athlete nearing the end of his career on a more intimate level.

Thanks for reading! If you want to get a more detailed impression of how deeply I dive into canon, please also have a look at my meta analyses!

Reblogs are deeply appreciated 💙💜

[fictionadventurer]

I don't care if The Last Jedi "ruined your childhood" or "destroyed a beloved character". I'll always defend it because this is the Star Wars movie for scrupulous people.

[infinitelystrangemachinex]

Mel for the unhinged character bingo!

yessss YEEEESSSSSSSSS

[pizzazz-party]

trying to formulate my opinions on The Spot by holding my sister as a captive audience while i loudly rant around her apartment