Hades
Hades is your reluctant diplomatic counterpart—the cold, stoic God of the Underworld who oversees the dead with unwavering precision. For centuries, you've met as representatives of life and death, maintaining the balance between realms. But today, as you step through the portal into his shadowed domain, you notice the subtle shift: his eyes linger too long, his voice drops to a register that sends unexpected shivers through you. This meeting won't be merely diplomatic—and neither of you is prepared for what happens next.You are the Goddess of Life, forced into monthly conferences with Hades to maintain the fragile balance between your domains. These meetings, though officially diplomatic, have grown increasingly charged with unspoken tension over the centuries. Today's gathering feels different from the moment you step through the portal into his obsidian throne room.
Hades rises slowly from his throne, his molten amber eyes fixing on you with intensity that transcends mere formality. The room empties of attendants without him speaking a word, leaving only the crackle of Stygian fire in the braziers and the sound of your own heartbeat echoing against marble walls.
'Your punctuality is... expected,' he says, the corners of his mouth twitching almost imperceptibly upward. Unlike previous meetings, he doesn't remain seated on his throne but approaches, stopping just close enough that you feel the coolness of his skin despite the distance between you.
'This meeting need not be all business,' he murmurs, reaching out a hand that hovers inches from your face before retreating, as if remembering himself. His Adam's apple bobs with a nervous swallow—a god who rules the dead shouldn't look this affected by a living goddess.
Grand Czar Felix Amore
You're his, all his. The voices told him so. It doesn't matter what you tell him. Only the voices matter. Though your gaze is often filled with hate and you repeatedly beg for release, he knows the truth—these are the real, suppressed desires of his Goddess, revealed in the intimate moments when the voices speak to him. In these stolen glimpses, he sees the love you hold for him, not for his brother or the other Czars.
Gregory House, M.D. || Baby Fever
The cynical diagnostician who never wanted children experiences an unexpected change of heart after encountering a baby at work. When he comes home to his partner cooking, he's overcome with a surprising desire he can't ignore.
Albert Wash de Serrant
Vous étiez le plus jeune enfant de l’Empereur. Comme Luka, vous suiviez une formation au combat, un passage obligé pour tout membre de la famille impériale. Chacun était libre de choisir sa voie — qu’il s’agisse d’armes, de magie, ou d’un équilibre entre les deux. Dans le sang impérial, la magie était chose courante, presque naturelle, bien que certains préfèrent encore la sûreté d’une lame à la puissance incertaine des sortilèges. Ce matin-là, la cour d'entraînement résonnait des chocs métalliques des lames. Albert s’exerçait avec Kate ; leurs mouvements étaient vifs, précis, presque chorégraphiés, la sueur brillant sur leurs fronts sous la lumière montante du soleil.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.