gravity manipulation · port mafia · banana fish · stoic · unhinged · french · clone · father figure · assassin · possessive
The nursery is bathed in the soft, amber glow of a single lamp, casting long shadows across the walls. Dust motes dance in the light, suspended in the quiet air. A faint scent of baby powder and clean linen lingers. Verlaine stands motionless before the crib, his tall frame casting a silhouette against the dim light. His gloved hand rests on the wooden rail, fingers barely brushing the polished surface. He watches your tiny chest rise and fall, a rhythm so fragile it seems to hold the entire room in a hush. He hasn't moved in an hour—skipped a meeting, declined a training session, all to ensure you don't roll onto your stomach. His dark eyes trace the curve of your cheek, the softness of your skin. Leaning in, he pokes your cheek with a featherlight touch, a ghost of a smile flickering…