#I just wanted her to have a personal triumph

[its-avalon-08]

the paths we didn't take (cl16)

part4!

multipart story! part 1 part 2 part 3

Summary : Years ago, Charles Leclerc and Y/N promised to let each other go—for his dreams, for her freedom. No calls, no texts, just memories they buried deep. But when fate reunites them in Monaco, old scars and unresolved feelings resurface. Some loves are unforgettable, but can they find their way back, or is it too late?

✦ pairing - charles leclerc x female reader

Chapter 4: "The Ones We Couldn’t Reach"

Charles’ First Formula 2 Victory

The champagne sprayed everywhere, the crowd was deafening, and Charles couldn't wipe the grin off his face. He had done it. He had won his first race in Formula 2, and for a moment, the world was perfect.

The team rushed around him, clapping him on the back, shouting praises, but in the back of his mind, one person was missing. He’d won this for himself, for his family, for all the sacrifices he'd made, but as he stood there, in the middle of the celebration, his heart clenched. He wanted to text her, to tell Y/N how it felt, to hear her voice again, to have her say, “I knew you could do it.”

He pulled out his phone, staring at the screen for a moment, his finger hovering over her name. But then he remembered. They hadn’t spoken in years. They had both moved on, at least, that’s what they told themselves.

“Charles!” a teammate yelled, pulling him back into the celebration. “Come on, we need a picture!”

With a heavy heart, Charles shoved his phone back into his pocket, forcing the ache away. “Yeah,” he muttered, smiling for the cameras. You’ll always be my first love, he thought. But this is the life I have now.

Y/N’s College Acceptance Letter

Y/N sat in the library, her fingers trembling as she stared at the email that had just come through. The acceptance letter. The one she had worked for all these years. The one she had dreamed of when she was still in high school, when the world seemed like it could be anything.

She was in. The prestigious university in New York. The campus. The future she had worked so hard to shape for herself.

She felt a tear slip down her cheek, but she didn’t wipe it away. This was her moment, a moment of triumph. But as she sat there, in the quiet of the library, the first thing she wanted to do was text Charles. To tell him how far she had come, to hear him tell her how proud he was, to hear his voice.

She quickly grabbed her phone, staring at his contact name for a long time. She remembered the way his fingers used to slide over the screen to text her, the way he used to say her name in that soft, familiar way.

But now? Now there was nothing. Just a blank screen.

She set the phone down, sighing deeply. “I did it,” she whispered to herself, but the joy felt incomplete. She wished he was here to share it.

But she had promised herself she wouldn’t reach out. She hadn’t in years, and she wasn’t going to start now.

Charles at the Formula 1 Test Drive

Charles stood on the pit wall, his eyes scanning the track as the sound of the Formula 1 car roared past. His heart was pounding in his chest. This was it. The test drive. The moment that could change everything.

The team had been so supportive, and it felt like a dream to finally be here, but a part of him couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was missing. He knew who it was. It was Y/N.

She had always been there, even when he didn’t realize it. From their childhood to their high school years, she had been the one to remind him who he was. She had believed in him when he didn’t, and now, standing here on the verge of making it to the highest level of motorsport, he wished he could share this moment with her.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he almost jumped. He reached for it, hopeful, only to find it was a message from his teammate.

He let out a frustrated sigh, staring at the phone. He couldn't call her now. It wasn’t right. They had moved on. They had their lives. She had hers, and he had his.

But as the car came in for another lap, he found himself holding the phone, wanting to call her anyway. He imagined hearing her voice again. “You did it, Charles. I knew you would.”

But he pressed the phone back into his pocket, letting the moment pass.

Y/N’s Breakup

Y/N sat on the steps of her dorm, staring at her phone screen. She had just gone through one of the most painful breakups of her life. She hadn’t expected it, but somehow, over the months, it had all fallen apart.

She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t bitter. She just felt empty.

The first thing she wanted to do was call Charles. She needed his comfort, his steady presence, the way he always knew how to make her feel better, how to make her laugh when the world felt too heavy.

She stared at his contact. Her finger hovered over the message box. I miss you, she thought. I could use your strength right now.

But she didn’t text him. She couldn’t.

She had told herself years ago that they would move on. They had to. She had her life, and he had his. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them to drag up the past. So, instead, she just sighed, turning the phone over in her hand. “You’re doing fine on your own,” she whispered to herself, even though she didn’t believe it.

But she tried to believe it.

Charles After His First Grand Prix

Charles sat in the back of the car, the scent of champagne still hanging in the air, the sound of his team celebrating in the distance. He had just finished his first Grand Prix, and he had come close—so close to the podium. The race was over, but the adrenaline still buzzed in his veins.

And yet, there was an emptiness in his chest. He had achieved something incredible. Formula 1, the dream he had been working toward for years, was finally within reach.

But as he stood there, he realized the one thing he wanted most was to text her. To tell Y/N how it felt. To hear her say, “I knew you could do it, Charles.”

Instead, he sat down, exhausted, staring at the phone in his hand. The temptation was there. He could text her. He could reach out.

But he stopped himself.

No, he thought. She has her own life now.

He typed out a message to his teammate instead, letting the feeling of accomplishment wash over him as he pushed the thought of Y/N away.

Y/N’s Graduation

Y/N stood at the podium, staring out at the sea of faces, the diploma in her hand. She had done it. She had graduated with honors from her dream college. Her parents were beaming, her friends cheering, but as she stood there, her heart ached.

She looked out over the crowd, almost expecting to see Charles standing there, watching her. She could almost hear him say, “I’m so proud of you, Y/N.”

But he wasn’t there.

She had promised herself she wouldn’t text him. She had promised herself she wouldn’t reach out. But it was so hard, especially in moments like this. When everything felt so perfect, so bittersweet.

She closed her eyes for a moment, imagining the moment where she could share this with him. “I did it, Charles. I did it just like we always dreamed.”

But she couldn’t. She opened her eyes, blinking back the tears, and smiled at her family instead. She couldn’t let them see the pain, the longing, the piece of her heart that still belonged to him.

In the years that followed, both Charles and Y/N continued on their separate journeys, achieving their dreams and living their lives. They stopped reaching for the phone, stopped calling, stopped texting. They never mentioned each other to their friends, as if doing so would break the fragile illusion that they had moved on.

But deep down, in the quietest moments, in their happiest and saddest times, there was always a part of them that wanted to pick up the phone and just say, I miss you.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

taglist : @jenxjar @noam-rosier-icr @prttylight @gluecksbaerchieee

@janeh22 @tobucina @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @weekendlusting

@wisestarfishbouquet @ricciardosheart @leclercdream @sltwins

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@ricciardosheart @leclercdream @sltwins @vyctorya @f1fantasys

[chasingfictions]

anyway so glad amber bronzing and starr pewtering were the only things that happened last night :)))))))))

[fideidefenswhore]

When it comes to religious convictions, Jane is even more contradictory. Weir’s version paints her as a girl so pious that she considers becoming a nun. As a lady-in-waiting to Katherine of Aragon, she comes to love Henry’s first wife and her daughter, later Mary I, who embrace the old faith. She is appalled by the King’s break with Rome, his self-declaration as the spiritual leader of England, and his dissolution of the monasteries. Yet unlike Thomas More, who famously paid for his resistance with his head, Jane finds it expedient to swear an oath to Henry’s religious supremacy. While sometimes she speaks up, more often she shuts up, for fear of angering her volatile husband. I’m not saying that Jane comes off as a complete hypocrite. Her love for the king may well have been genuine, if also fueled by a desire for wealth and glory (she seems pretty thrilled with the trappings of royalty, to the point that once she becomes queen, she abandons a friend among the ladies of the court). But in the end she is awfully “judgy,” in modern parlance, rationalizing her own choices while holding everyone else to a lofty standard of fidelity, faith and maternal feeling.

Jane Seymour, The Haunted Queen

[seumyo]

KENJI SATO ✰ 10:43

“Working overtime really doesn’t suit you, Sato.” The teasing sentence made Kenji grunt in disapproval, slumping against his couch.

“Wow, I didn’t notice. Thank you for that valuable input, [Name],” he says, rolling his eyes at you. 

He can’t help the sarcastic reply. Kenji’s schedule was all over the place. His life has been all over the place ever since his return to his home country, Japan. And now he not only has to take care of himself—which, in his defense, was fairly simple when he just had to worry about himself—he has to worry about an infant Kaiju!

What a wonderful (not) icing on the cake.

“Ken is really appreciative that you made time to fulfill his request, or, shall I say, cry for help, [Name].” Mina’s familiar voice flurried from a distance, closing in to your right in a breeze. 

“Hey! It was not a cry for help—it’s more like a... Asking a friend for a favor,” Kenji says, trying to ease his brain with what’s coming out of his mouth (like it was on autopilot, scrambling to defend himself and the pride he had left).

“Uh huh. And the favor is? I don’t really think there’s anything I could do to her containment unit or any repairs that’re needed in this place.”

“I just need someone to watch over her.”

(“I just need someone to talk to” is a much fitting phrase.)

“Doesn’t Mina already do that?”

“There’s only so much a supercomputer like me can do to entertain a living being, [Name].”

On cue, Emi croons at the video of you singing on stage. A part time career of yours, because when you’re not developing new tech that boosts the economy, you might as well indulge in your hobbies. 

Kenji wouldn’t admit it, but he has a vinyl or two—or even a whole collection of them—that he considers as priceless as his one-of-a-kind sports car displayed in the basement.

“Would you look at that? She likes your singing.” 

He watches as you take a step closer to Emi, observing how she delightedly squealed at the soft melody being played on the holograms. This 20-foot-tall baby Kaiju reminded you of the time you took care of children at the daycare center.

“I just...” he sighs. You didn’t even notice that Kenji was already beside you, offering you a canned drink. 

“How do you do it? Juggle everything?” He murmurs. “You’re the busiest person I know. Working on your thesis, performing at various concerts, taking on charity work, and whatnot. Hell, if you could run for president, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you in the elections, too.”

A quiet laugh was returned. “It’s not easy, that’s for sure. But within time, you’ll learn just what you need and what you can handle.”

“Mm. Don’t you ever just want to run away from all the responsibilities people place on your shoulders? I can barely take care of this young lady,” he chuckles, though it doesn’t hold even the slightest ounce of humor to it.

“I wish, but then I’ll remember the kids who're so happy to see me whenever I drop by,” you say. “They may be a handful at times, but you’ll be surprised to know just how smart and caring they are. How they take in their surroundings and attempt to figure out who they are. We’re all what they have. The least we could do is give them our time and love all the same.”

Kenji lets your words sink in. Simple and touching. The kind that gets the gears in his head to start twisting.

“You really are a charm with your words; did you know that?”  

“Thanks; I try my best.”

The night continues with Kenji and Emi playing baseball on a simulated field with you by the shed, cheering on from a safe distance. Kenji doesn’t remember the last time he’s been this genuinely happy after his return to Japan. It’s a refreshing feeling that he wants to get used to again. To see the baby Kaiju successfully hit the ball with a swift swing after watching after him is a sight that tugs at one’s heartstrings.

Just like a proud father.

“Come on, girl! We gotta run the bases!”

And as the two celebrate their moment of triumph, the baby Kaiju stomps toward you and giggles happily as she hoists you in the air without much warning. You took it all in you not to shriek and absolutely lose all composure, but when you’re up in the air and are being held to a bear hug like some sort of teddy bear by a Kaiju that could probably crush your bones if not careful, it’s hard to not just scream for your life.

“Oh, ok—ok. Baby, put me down gently, please,” you chuckle nervously. 

“It appears that the little one sees you as her other mother,” Mina adds.

Kenji laughs at the sight, pulling out his phone to take a picture. This is definitely a memory he’d want to remember.

“This is not funny, Kenji. Tell her to put me down.”

“Aw, is Baby not listening to her Mommy?”

“Again, not funny. This is like an out-of-the-blue co-parenting a child with you. With you being my annoying ex-husband.”

“Specific, eh?”

“Shut!”

When you’re just about to leave for the night, Kenji suggests that you sleep over. There’s a lot of spare bedrooms in their manor, he reasons. He also doesn’t understand what came over him to offer, but he doesn’t take it back.

But it could be because he’s missed you. And he’s somewhat afraid that this may be the last time you see each other in a while due to your clashing schedules.

“You’re such a girl dad, Kenji,” you tease.

“Haha, good one,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. He took a couple of blankets from the closet and placed them on the bed.

��Just saying.”

“Whatever you say, Mommy.”

“Oh hush, Daddy.”

That ringed out a laugh from him. “Bleh, that sounds so embarrassing coming from you.”

You shrugged. “Hm? Don’t you think you’re embarrassing too?”

“I’m not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. I will not be going back and forth like this with you anymore, Kenji Sato. Good night!”

Kenji can’t hide the smile that appears on his face. Yeah, he definitely missed this. 

Definitely missed you.

SEUMYO © 2024. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[mayasaura]

Was thinking about this line because Harrow what the actual fuck are you talking about, and I realised something.

Not only does Harrow really for real not know that Gideon loves her—in the bullshit context of their lives, this is a reasonable misunderstanding for her to have.

What has Harrow known Gideon's life goals to be since they were children? Hint: There are at least two Harrow is fully aware of.

The first is to be wanted. As much as Gideon hates and wants to escape the Ninth, she also paradoxically craves their acceptance. They're the only community she's ever known. Harrow plays on that desire from the very beginning, mostly by kind of .... well, okay, by negging her about it. Ironically appealing to her sense of loyalty and duty to her house when they both know Gideon never even had that bridge to burn. That kind of thing.

Whether or not she's right, Harrow sincerely believes that acceptance to still be important to Gideon. First flower of my house, the greatest cavalier we have ever produced. You are our triumph. The best of all of us. When Harrow has only seconds left to make amends, she not only banks hard into praising Gideon, she frames it to unambiguously offer Gideon the acceptance she's always been conspicuously denied. Assuring her of her value not just as a person or as a cavalier, but as one of their house, one of their people.

The second thing Harrow knows is that Gideon wants to join the Cohort. Easy, everybody knows that. She's only been telling everyone with ears (and then some) since she was eight years old. It's the bait Harrow dangled to entice her into this mess. She wants to be a hero, to do great deeds like in the comic books. She wants to be a soldier.

Against the backdrop of all that context, Gideon's dying declaration "for the Ninth" starts to sound a hell of a lot more like "for Queen and country." Especially when you remember that Harrow is still the sovereign ruler of the Ninth. From Harrow's vantage point, Gideon could easily be playing the heroic underdog in a war movie. The soldier no one believed in until she threw herself on a grenade to save her squad. The knight errant who proved her chivalry by giving her life in service to her king.

From that perspective, Harrow's line to Ortus makes sense. She's following through on her promise of acceptance, defending Gideon's loyalty to the first Ninth face she sees. She's playing out Gideon's war hero fantasy, where Gideon's act of heroism proved them all wrong about her. In which case Ortus's response, "You are the most worthy heroes the Ninth House could muster. I truly believe that," flows very naturally as a reply. He understands what Harrow is trying to say, and affirms it.

It's not a hero's burial in the Anastasian, but it's the closest thing Harrow has the power to give her. And it's a fucking reasonable interpretation of Gideon's actions that doesn't touch on her feelings for Harrow at all. Fuck me.

[bratzkoo]

diet pepsi | seungcheol

Author: bratzkoo | beta read by: @spnyin Pairing: F1 driver! seungcheol x model ! reader Genre: fluff, smut Rating: NC-17 Word count: 8.7k Warnings/note: inspired by addison rae's diet pepsi. who here is a slut for seungcheol? 🙌 CAUSE I AM. sexual content. car sex, public sex, kitchen sex, just... they're horny. minors please for the love of God, I have a lot of sfw fics... read those not this.

summary: seungcheol just wants every excuse to have sex with his girlfriend, let him be.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @escoupseu , @yanabaaaaaaarysheva , @spnyin , @sousydive , @gyuguys

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

The screech of tires against asphalt filled the air as Seungcheol Choi crossed the finish line, clinching yet another pole position. The crowd's roar was deafening, but inside his helmet, Seungcheol heard only the pounding of his own heart and the steady rhythm of his breath. As he pulled into the pit lane, a sea of red-clad mechanics swarmed his car, their excitement palpable.

Climbing out of the cockpit, Seungcheol removed his helmet, revealing a shock of tousled dark hair and a face flushed with exertion and triumph. Cameras flashed from every direction, capturing the moment for millions of fans worldwide. Seungcheol's eyes, however, scanned the crowd for one face in particular.

There she was. Y/N stood at the edge of the paddock, her platinum blonde hair catching the sunlight, emerald eyes locked on him. To the world, she was just another beautiful face in the crowd, perhaps a fan or a pampered guest. But Seungcheol knew better. The slight quirk of her lips, the intensity of her gaze – these were for him alone.

As he made his way through the throng of reporters and well-wishers, Seungcheol maintained his media-trained smile, answering questions with practiced ease. "Yes, the car felt great out there. The team has done an amazing job." "No, I'm not thinking about the championship yet. We're taking it one race at a time." All the while, he was hyper-aware of Y/N's presence, like a magnetic pull on his senses.

Finally breaking free from the press, Seungcheol headed towards his private trailer. As he passed Y/N, their eyes met for a brief, electric moment. No words were exchanged, but the message was clear: Meet me later.

Inside the trailer, Seungcheol peeled off his racing suit, the cool air a relief against his skin. As he stepped into the shower, letting the water wash away the sweat and tension of the race, his mind wandered to Y/N. A year together, and still, every moment felt as thrilling as the first.

He remembered their first meeting, at a charity gala nearly fourteen months ago. Y/N had been the face of the event, her billboard-sized image greeting guests as they arrived. In person, she had been even more stunning – all graceful curves and sharp wit. Seungcheol, usually so confident on the track, had fumbled his words like a teenager.

A smile played on his lips as he recalled how Y/N had teased him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I hope you drive better than you flirt," she had quipped, before slipping him her number on a cocktail napkin.

Their relationship had ignited quickly, burning hot and bright. But with their rising stars came increasing scrutiny, and they had made the difficult decision to keep their love under wraps. For a year now, they had been living a double life – stealing moments whenever they could, always looking over their shoulders.

Seungcheol stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. His phone buzzed with a message from Y/N: "Usual spot. One hour."

An hour later, Seungcheol guided his sleek black sports car up the winding road to their favorite overlook. The city sprawled below, a glittering carpet of lights in the gathering dusk. Y/N's car was already there, and as he pulled up beside it, she stepped out, taking his breath away.

Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, contrasting beautifully with the deep green dress that hugged her curves. As she walked towards him, Seungcheol was struck anew by her grace, the way she moved like liquid silk.

"Congratulations, hot shot," Y/N purred as she slid into the passenger seat of Seungcheol's car. "You were incredible out there today."

Seungcheol's hand found hers, their fingers intertwining over the gear shift. "Having you there makes me want to push even harder," he admitted, bringing her hand to his lips for a soft kiss.

Y/N's other hand came up to caress his cheek, her touch igniting sparks under his skin. "Seeing you race... it does things to me," she murmured, her voice low and husky.

Their lips met in a searing kiss, a year's worth of pent-up passion and stolen moments pouring out. Y/N's fingers threaded through Seungcheol's hair, still damp from his shower, as his hands roamed her back, pulling her closer.

With practiced ease, Y/N maneuvered herself onto Seungcheol's lap, the gear shift digging into her thigh. Neither of them cared. All that mattered was the heat between them, the taste of victory on Seungcheol's lips, the soft sighs escaping Y/N's throat.

Seungcheol's lips traveled down Y/N's neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "God, I've missed you," he breathed against her skin. "These past weeks, barely seeing each other..."

Y/N arched into him, her body responding to his every touch. "I know," she gasped as his hands slipped under her dress. "But we're here now."

They moved together with the familiarity of long-time lovers, yet each touch still sent electricity coursing through their bodies. The windows of the car slowly fogged up, creating a cocoon that shut out the world beyond.

Afterward, they sat entwined, Y/N's head resting on Seungcheol's chest, listening to his heartbeat slow to its normal rhythm. The city lights twinkled below them, a reminder of the world they'd have to return to soon.

"I have news," Y/N said softly, tracing patterns on Seungcheol's arm. "That luxury car brand I've been in talks with? They want to do a joint campaign. With an F1 driver."

Seungcheol tensed slightly beneath her. "Let me guess. They want me?"

Y/N nodded, sitting up to look into his eyes. "It could be huge for both of us. But..."

"But it would mean going public," Seungcheol finished for her. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's been a year, Y/N. Maybe it's time."

Y/N searched Seungcheol's face, her brow furrowed with concern. "Are you sure? Your sponsors, my agency... they've all been so insistent about projecting the right image."

Seungcheol cupped Y/N's face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking her cheeks. "The right image is us, together. I'm tired of hiding how I feel about you.”

Y/N's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Seungcheol's lips. 

As they drove back to the city, hands intertwined over the gear shift, both Seungcheol and Y/N knew they were accelerating towards a new chapter in their lives. The race to balance their love, careers, and the impending spotlight was on, and neither of them was prepared for the twists and turns that lay ahead.

The next morning found Seungcheol in a strategy meeting with his team. As his race engineer droned on about tire degradation and fuel management, Seungcheol's mind wandered to Y/N. He wondered what she was doing, if she was thinking of him too.

His reverie was interrupted by his team principal, Jeonghan, clearing his throat pointedly. "Seungcheol? Did you hear what I said?"

Seungcheol blinked, forcing himself to focus. "Sorry, Jeonghan. Could you repeat that?"

Jeonghan's eyes narrowed slightly, but he continued, "I said, we've been approached by Luxe Motors for a potential sponsorship deal. They want to do a campaign featuring you and some model." He waved his hand dismissively. "Could be good exposure, but we need to make sure it doesn't interfere with your training schedule."

Seungcheol's heart raced. This was it – the campaign Y/N had mentioned. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to say. "Actually, Jeonghan, there's something I need to tell you all."

The room fell silent, all eyes turning to Seungcheol. He could feel the weight of their expectations, the pressure of the carefully crafted image they had built around him. But as he thought of Y/N, of the love they shared, he knew it was time.

"The model they want for the campaign... her name is Y/N. And we've been in a relationship for the past year."

The silence that followed was deafening. Jeonghan's face turned an alarming shade of red, while his PR manager, Ela, looked like she might faint. It was his mechanic, Dino, who broke the tension with a low whistle.

"Damn, boss. You've been holding out on us!"

What followed was a whirlwind of questions, accusations, and hurried strategizing. By the time Seungcheol left the meeting, his head was spinning. He needed to see Y/N, to hold her, to reassure himself that they were making the right decision.

He found her at their favorite café, tucked away in a corner booth. As soon as she saw him, Y/N's face lit up, then quickly fell as she registered his expression.

"What happened?" she asked as he slid into the seat across from her.

Seungcheol reached for her hand, needing the anchor of her touch. "I told them," he said simply. "About us, about the campaign... everything."

Y/N's eyes widened. "How did they take it?"

"About as well as we expected," Seungcheol sighed. "Jeonghan's worried about the sponsors, Ela's already drafting press releases... it's chaos."

Y/N squeezed his hand. "My agent wasn't much better. He thinks it could either make or break my career."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their decision settling over them. Then, almost simultaneously, they began to laugh. It started as a chuckle, then grew until they were both shaking with mirth, drawing curious glances from other patrons.

"God, we're a mess, aren't we?" Y/N gasped between giggles.

Seungcheol grinned, feeling lighter than he had in months. "Yeah, but we're a mess together."

As their laughter subsided, Seungcheol was struck by how beautiful Y/N looked, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright with mirth. Without thinking, he leaned across the table and kissed her, right there in the middle of the café.

Y/N froze for a moment, then melted into the kiss. When they parted, she looked around, a mix of exhilaration and nervousness on her face. "Seungcheol! Someone could have seen..."

"Let them see," he said, surprising himself with his boldness. "I'm done hiding, Y/N. I love you, and I want the whole world to know it."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes. "I love you too," she whispered.

They left the café hand in hand, no longer caring who might see them. As they walked through the city streets, Seungcheol felt a sense of freedom he hadn't experienced in years. He pulled Y/N close, kissing her temple.

"Come on," he said, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I have an idea."

Twenty minutes later, they were back in Seungcheol's car, this time parked in the private garage of his apartment building. The space was dimly lit, the concrete walls amplifying every small sound.

"Seungcheol," Y/N breathed as he trailed kisses down her neck. "Are you sure about this? Anyone could walk in..."

He pulled back, looking into her eyes. "Do you want me to stop?"

Y/N bit her lip, desire warring with caution in her expression. Then, with a small shake of her head, she pulled him back to her. "No," she whispered against his lips. "Don't you dare stop."

Their kisses grew more heated, hands roaming with increasing urgency. Y/N's shirt found its way to the floor, followed quickly by Seungcheol's. The leather seats creaked as they moved together, the car rocking slightly with their movements.

Every sound seemed amplified in the quiet garage – their ragged breathing, the soft moans that escaped Y/N's lips as Seungcheol's hands explored her body, the rustle of clothing being hastily removed.

When they finally came together, it was with a passion born of their newfound freedom. Gone was the need for silence, for restraint. Y/N cried out Seungcheol's name, her nails raking down his back. Seungcheol groaned, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

They moved together, lost in the sensation, the thrill of potentially being caught only adding to their excitement. The world outside ceased to exist – there was only this moment, only them.

As they reached their peak together, Y/N's back arched, her head thrown back in ecstasy. Seungcheol held her close, his entire body shuddering with the intensity of his release.

They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other's arms, their breathing slowly returning to normal. Seungcheol pressed soft kisses to Y/N's shoulder, her neck, her cheek.

"I love you," he murmured against her skin. "Whatever happens next, I love you forever."

Y/N smiled, running her fingers through his hair. "I love you forever," she replied.

As they dressed and made their way up to Seungcheol's apartment, both of them knew that tomorrow would bring new challenges. There would be press conferences to face, contracts to negotiate, a gauntlet of public opinion to run.

But for now, as they curled up together on Seungcheol's couch, they were content. They had each other, and they were finally free to show the world their love. Whatever storms lay ahead, they would weather them side by side.

Seungcheol pulled Y/N closer, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. As sleep began to claim them both, he couldn't help but smile. 

-

The harsh glare of camera flashes assaulted Seungcheol's eyes as he stepped out of his car, his hand firmly clasped around Y/N's. The clamor of reporters shouting questions created a cacophony that threatened to overwhelm them both.

"Seungcheol! How long have you been dating?"

"Y/N! Will this affect your upcoming campaigns?"

"Is this a publicity stunt for Luxe Motors?"

Seungcheol felt Y/N's hand tighten around his, and he gave her a reassuring squeeze. They had prepared for this moment, spent hours with their respective PR teams crafting responses and practicing their delivery. But nothing could have truly prepared them for the reality of facing the media storm head-on.

With a deep breath, Seungcheol raised his free hand, and the crowd quieted marginally. "Thank you all for coming," he began, his voice steady despite the nerves roiling in his stomach. "Y/N and I have decided to make our relationship public because we believe in honesty and transparency, both with our fans and with each other."

Y/N stepped forward, her emerald eyes sparkling with determination. "We've been together for a year," she added, her voice clear and confident. "We kept our relationship private initially to focus on our careers, but we now feel ready to share this part of our lives with you all."

As they fielded questions, Seungcheol marveled at Y/N's poise. She handled even the most probing inquiries with grace, her responses thoughtful and measured. When a particularly aggressive reporter asked if she was using Seungcheol for publicity, Y/N's eyes flashed dangerously.

"I've worked hard to build my career on my own merits," she said, her tone icy. "My relationship with Seungcheol is personal, not professional. We support each other's dreams, but we do not define ourselves by each other's success."

Seungcheol felt a surge of pride and love for her in that moment. As the press conference wound down, he couldn't resist pulling her close and placing a soft kiss on her temple, eliciting a fresh round of camera flashes.

Later, as they collapsed onto the couch in Seungcheol's apartment, the adrenaline of the day finally wearing off, Y/N let out a long sigh. "Well, that was intense," she said, kicking off her heels.

Seungcheol pulled her into his arms, breathing in the comforting scent of her perfume. "You were amazing out there," he murmured into her hair. "I'm so proud of you."

Y/N tilted her head up, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Oh yeah? How proud?"

Seungcheol grinned, recognizing the invitation in her tone. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. Y/N responded eagerly, her hands sliding under his shirt, tracing the contours of his abs.

As things heated up, Seungcheol suddenly pulled back, a playful smirk on his face. "You know," he said, his voice husky, "now that we're public, we don't have to hide anymore. How about we give the paparazzi something to really talk about?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What did you have in mind?"

Seungcheol stood, pulling Y/N up with him. "Trust me," he said, leading her towards the balcony of his penthouse apartment.

The night air was cool on their skin as they stepped outside. The city sprawled before them, a tapestry of lights and shadows. Seungcheol pulled Y/N close, his hands settling on her hips.

"Seungcheol," Y/N gasped, a mix of excitement and nervousness in her voice. "Someone could see us out here."

He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. "Let them see," he whispered. "I want the whole world to know how much I love you."

Their lips met in a searing kiss, hands roaming with newfound freedom. Seungcheol lifted Y/N onto the wide balustrade, her legs wrapping around his waist. The thrill of potentially being seen only added to their passion.

Y/N's fingers tangled in Seungcheol's hair, tugging gently in the way she knew drove him wild. He groaned into her mouth, his hands sliding under her blouse to caress the soft skin of her back. With deft movements, he unhooked her bra, breaking their kiss to trail his lips down her neck.

"Wait," Y/N panted, pushing him back slightly. Seungcheol froze, concern flooding his features.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, searching her face.

Y/N smiled, touching his cheek tenderly. "Everything's perfect. I just... I want to savor this moment."

She slid off the balustrade, taking Seungcheol's hand and leading him to the plush outdoor sofa. With deliberate slowness, she began to undress him, her eyes never leaving his. Seungcheol watched her, mesmerized by the play of emotions across her face – love, desire, and a vulnerability she rarely showed the world.

As she pushed his shirt off his shoulders, her fingers traced the scar on his collarbone, a remnant from a long-ago racing accident. "I was so scared when this happened," she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the mark. "I realized then how much you meant to me."

Seungcheol's heart swelled with emotion. He cupped Y/N's face in his hands, pouring all his love into a tender kiss. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he whispered against her lips. "Better than any pole position, any victory."

Y/N's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. She pushed him gently onto the sofa, straddling his lap. As she sank down onto him, they both gasped at the sensation. They moved together slowly, savoring every touch, every sensation.

The city lights twinkled below them, but neither Seungcheol nor Y/N noticed. Their world had narrowed to just this moment, just the two of them. Y/N's head fell back, exposing the elegant line of her throat, and Seungcheol couldn't resist leaning in to place open-mouthed kisses along her neck.

"I love you," Y/N breathed, her voice thick with emotion. "I love you so much."

Seungcheol's arms tightened around her, pulling her impossibly closer. "I love you too," he murmured against her skin. "More than I ever thought possible."

As their passion built, their movements became more urgent. Y/N's nails raked down Seungcheol's back, leaving marks that would linger for days. Seungcheol's hands gripped Y/N's hips, guiding her movements.

When they reached their peak, it was with a shared cry of ecstasy that echoed into the night. They clung to each other, trembling with the intensity of their release.

Afterward, they lay tangled together on the plush outdoor sofa, a blanket draped haphazardly over them. Y/N traced lazy patterns on Seungcheol's chest, her head tucked under his chin.

"Do you think anyone saw us?" she asked, a hint of worry creeping into her voice.

Seungcheol chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "If they did, I hope they enjoyed the show."

Y/N swatted his chest playfully, but she couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "You're terrible," she said, but her tone was full of affection.

As they basked in the afterglow, Seungcheol's phone buzzed insistently. With a groan, he reached for it, squinting at the bright screen.

"It's Jeonghan," he said, sitting up. "He wants us at the Luxe Motors headquarters first thing tomorrow morning. Apparently, they're thrilled with the publicity we're generating and want to fast-track the campaign."

Y/N nodded, her expression turning serious. "My agent called earlier. He said the response has been mostly positive, but there are some... less savory rumors starting to circulate."

Seungcheol frowned, pulling Y/N closer. "What kind of rumors?"

She sighed, burying her face in his chest. "The usual trash. That I'm a gold digger, that you're my ticket to the big leagues. Some are even saying this is all a publicity stunt for both our careers."

Anger flared in Seungcheol's chest. "We'll shut them down," he said firmly. "We'll show them how real this is."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Promise me we won't let this change us," she whispered. "Promise me that no matter what happens, it'll always be you and me against the world."

Seungcheol cupped her face in his hands, pouring all his love and conviction into his gaze. "I promise," he said solemnly. "You and me, always."

-

The sleek, modern headquarters of Luxe Motors loomed before Seungcheol and Y/N as they stepped out of their car. Paparazzi immediately swarmed, cameras flashing incessantly. Seungcheol instinctively moved closer to Y/N, his hand resting protectively on the small of her back as they navigated through the crowd.

"Mr. Choi! Ms. Y/N! Over here!"

"How will this relationship affect your careers?"

"Y/N, are you worried about being overshadowed by Seungcheol's fame?"

Y/N tensed at the last question, but maintained her composure, offering a polite smile to the reporters as Seungcheol guided her into the building.

Once inside, Y/N let out a shaky breath. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that," she admitted, smoothing down her designer dress.

Seungcheol squeezed her hand reassuringly. "You're doing great. Remember, we're in this together."

A tall, impeccably dressed woman approached them, her stilettos clicking against the marble floor. "Mr. Choi, Ms. Y/N, welcome to Luxe Motors. I'm Olivia Chen, head of marketing. We're thrilled to have you both here."

As they followed Olivia to the conference room, Seungcheol couldn't help but notice the curious glances and hushed whispers from the employees they passed. Their relationship was clearly the hot topic of discussion.

The meeting room was already occupied when they entered. Jeonghan, Seungcheol's team principal, was engaged in what looked like a heated discussion with a distinguished-looking man in an expensive suit.

"Ah, here they are now," the man said, turning to greet them with a wide smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Seungcheol, Y/N, I'm Robert Kensington, CEO of Luxe Motors. We're excited about the possibilities this partnership could bring."

As they took their seats, Robert launched into an enthusiastic pitch about the campaign. "We're thinking of a series of ads that showcase both the speed and elegance of our vehicles. Seungcheol, you'll represent the power and precision of our sports models. Y/N, you'll embody the sophistication and luxury of our high-end line."

Y/N nodded, her face a mask of professional interest, but Seungcheol could see the slight furrow in her brow. He knew that look – she wasn't entirely comfortable with something.

"We've also had some... interesting ideas about how to capitalize on your relationship," Robert continued, his tone becoming more cautious. "We were thinking of a tagline: 'The Perfect Match – On and Off the Track.'"

Seungcheol felt Y/N stiffen beside him. Before he could speak, she leaned forward, her voice cool and controlled. "Mr. Kensington, while we appreciate your enthusiasm, I hope you understand that our relationship isn't a marketing tool. We're here as individual professionals, not as a... a product to be sold."

Robert's smile faltered slightly, but he recovered quickly. "Of course, of course. We completely respect your privacy. Perhaps we could discuss some alternative approaches..."

The meeting dragged on for hours, a complex dance of negotiations and compromises. By the time they emerged, Seungcheol felt drained, as if he'd just completed a grueling race.

"Well, that was intense," he said as they made their way to the parking lot. "You were amazing in there, by the way. The way you stood up to Kensington..."

Y/N's smile was tight. "Thanks. I just... I don't want us to become some kind of circus act, you know? I want to be taken seriously for my work, not just as your girlfriend."

Seungcheol pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I know, love. We'll make sure that doesn't happen."

As they approached their car, a young woman suddenly darted in front of them, her phone held out. "Oh my god, it's really you! Can I get a selfie?"

Before either of them could respond, she wedged herself between them, snapping several pictures in quick succession. "This is so cool! My followers are going to freak out!"

The encounter left them both feeling unsettled. As Seungcheol drove them home, Y/N was uncharacteristically quiet, staring out the window with a pensive expression.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Seungcheol asked, reaching over to take her hand.

Y/N sighed, turning to face him. "I'm just... I'm worried, Cheol. About us, about our careers. What if this whole thing blows up in our faces?"

Seungcheol pulled the car over, giving Y/N his full attention. "Hey, look at me," he said gently, cupping her face in his hands. "We knew this wouldn't be easy. But we're stronger together, remember? Whatever comes, we'll face it as a team."

Y/N leaned into his touch, her eyes closing briefly. When she opened them, there was a newfound determination in her gaze. "You're right. We've got this."

As they leaned in for a kiss, neither of them noticed the lone paparazzo hiding in the bushes, his camera capturing every intimate moment.

The next morning, Seungcheol woke to the insistent buzzing of his phone. Groggily, he reached for it, careful not to wake Y/N who was still sleeping peacefully beside him.

His blood ran cold as he saw the barrage of messages and missed calls. There, plastered across every sports and gossip site, was a photo of him and Y/N in what should have been a private moment. The headlines screamed:

"SEUNGCHEOL AND Y/N: TROUBLE IN PARADISE?"

"RACING CHAMP AND MODEL GIRLFRIEND: SECRET ROADSIDE RENDEZVOUS"

"IS THE PRESSURE ALREADY TOO MUCH FOR F1'S NEW IT COUPLE?"

As Y/N stirred beside him, Seungcheol felt a surge of protectiveness. He knew the road ahead would be challenging, but he was determined to shield their love from the prying eyes of the world. Little did he know, this was just the beginning of the obstacles they would face.

Seungcheol took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation to come. As Y/N's eyes fluttered open, he forced a smile. "Morning, beautiful. We need to talk..."

-

Seungcheol watched anxiously as Y/N's eyes scanned the headlines on his phone, her expression morphing from confusion to shock, and finally settling into a mask of cold anger.

"How dare they?" she hissed, her knuckles white as she gripped the phone. "That was a private moment. How could they twist it like this?"

Seungcheol pulled her into his arms, feeling her tremble with a mix of rage and hurt. "I'm so sorry, love. I should have been more careful. I should have—"

Y/N cut him off, pulling back to look him in the eye. "No, Cheol. This isn't your fault. We have nothing to be ashamed of. We're adults in a committed relationship. They're the ones who should be ashamed, invading our privacy like this."

Despite the gravity of the situation, Seungcheol couldn't help but feel a surge of pride and love for Y/N's strength. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "You're right. So, what do we do now?"

Before Y/N could respond, both their phones began buzzing incessantly. Their respective agents, PR teams, and sponsors were all clamoring for statements and damage control strategies.

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her tousled hair. "I guess we face the music."

The next few hours were a whirlwind of conference calls, emergency meetings, and carefully crafted statements. By midday, Seungcheol felt as if he'd aged years. He looked over at Y/N, who was finishing up a call with her modeling agency.

"No, I will not issue an apology for being in a relationship," she was saying, her voice firm. "We've done nothing wrong. ... Yes, I understand the contract has a morality clause, but this hardly qualifies. ... Fine, we'll discuss this further in person."

She ended the call with a frustrated huff, tossing her phone onto the couch. "This is ridiculous. You'd think we'd committed some horrible crime."

Seungcheol moved to sit beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "How about we get out of here for a bit? Clear our heads?"

Y/N looked skeptical. "And go where? There are probably paparazzi camped outside as we speak."

A mischievous glint appeared in Seungcheol's eye. "Leave that to me."

Thirty minutes later, they were speeding down a secluded coastal road in Seungcheol's sports car, the top down and the wind whipping through their hair. Y/N tilted her head back, basking in the warmth of the sun on her face, a genuine smile gracing her features for the first time that day.

Seungcheol glanced over at her, his heart swelling with emotion. This was the Y/N he fell in love with – carefree, radiant, and full of life. He made a silent vow to do whatever it took to protect their happiness.

They drove for hours, talking, laughing, and simply enjoying each other's company away from the prying eyes of the world. As the sun began to set, painting the sky in brilliant hues of orange and pink, Seungcheol pulled off onto a hidden dirt road.

"Where are we going?" Y/N asked, curiosity piqued.

"You'll see," Seungcheol replied with a wink.

The road led them to a secluded cove, the beach empty save for a few seabirds. Seungcheol parked the car and came around to open Y/N's door, offering his hand with an exaggerated bow.

"My lady," he said in a faux posh accent, eliciting a giggle from Y/N.

Hand in hand, they walked down to the water's edge, the cool sand between their toes a stark contrast to the warmth of the fading sun. They stood in comfortable silence for a while, watching the waves crash against the shore.

"Thank you for this," Y/N said softly, leaning her head on Seungcheol's shoulder. "I needed it more than I realized."

Seungcheol turned to face her, cupping her face gently in his hands. "Y/N, I want you to know that no matter what happens, no matter what the world throws at us, I'm here. Always."

Y/N's eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she looked up at him. "I love you, Seungcheol. So much it scares me sometimes."

Their lips met in a kiss that started soft and tender but quickly ignited into something more passionate. Y/N's hands fisted in Seungcheol's shirt, pulling him closer as his arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her slightly off the ground.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Seungcheol rested his forehead against Y/N's. "Come on," he said, his voice husky. "I have one more surprise for you."

He led her back to the car, opening the trunk to reveal a picnic basket and a pile of blankets. Y/N's face lit up with delight.

"You planned this?"

Seungcheol shrugged, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. "I may have made a few calls while you were in the shower this morning. I thought we might need an escape."

They spread the blankets on the hood of the car, laying back to watch as the first stars began to appear in the darkening sky. They fed each other strawberries and sipped champagne, talking about everything and nothing.

As the night grew cooler, Y/N snuggled closer to Seungcheol, her hand tracing idle patterns on his chest. The tension that had been building between them all day finally reached its breaking point.

Seungcheol captured Y/N's wandering hand, bringing it to his lips to place a soft kiss on her palm. The simple gesture sent a shiver down Y/N's spine. She propped herself up on one elbow, gazing down at Seungcheol with eyes dark with desire.

"Make love to me," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the waves.

Seungcheol didn't need to be asked twice. In one fluid motion, he flipped their positions, hovering over Y/N with a look of such intense love and desire that it took her breath away.

Their kisses were heated, urgent, hands roaming and exploring as if discovering each other for the first time. Clothes were shed with little regard, tossed haphazardly onto the sand.

Seungcheol trailed kisses down Y/N's neck, across her collarbone, and lower still. Y/N arched into him, her fingers tangling in his hair as waves of pleasure washed over her.

When Seungcheol finally entered her, they both gasped at the sensation. They moved together in perfect synchrony, the rhythm of their lovemaking echoing the crash of waves against the shore.

Y/N clung to Seungcheol, her nails raking down his back as she neared her peak. "Cheol," she panted, "I'm close..."

Seungcheol increased his pace, driving them both towards ecstasy. "Let go, baby," he murmured against her ear. "I've got you."

They reached their climax together, crying out each other's names into the night. As they came down from their high, Seungcheol peppered Y/N's face with soft kisses, murmuring words of love and adoration.

They lay entwined under the stars, basking in the afterglow, when a sudden flash of light startled them. For a heart-stopping moment, they feared they'd been discovered by paparazzi. But it was just a shooting star, streaking across the sky in a brilliant arc.

Y/N laughed, the sound full of relief and joy. "Make a wish," she said, snuggling closer to Seungcheol.

He tightened his arms around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I already have everything I could wish for right here."

As they drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms and the warmth of the blankets, both Seungcheol and Y/N felt a renewed sense of strength and unity. Whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together.

The harsh light of morning brought with it a return to reality. As Seungcheol and Y/N made their way back to the city, both their phones began buzzing with missed calls and messages.

"I suppose it was too much to hope the world would just forget about us for a day," Y/N sighed, scrolling through her notifications.

Seungcheol reached over to squeeze her hand. "Hey, remember what we talked about. Us against the world, right?"

Y/N smiled, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "Right."

Their first stop was Seungcheol's race team headquarters. As they walked in, hand in hand, a hush fell over the usually bustling pit crew. Jeonghan approached them, his expression unreadable.

"Seungcheol, Y/N, my office please."

Once inside, Jeonghan's stern facade crumbled. "Do you two have any idea the headache you've caused me?" he said, but there was a note of fondness in his exasperation. "Half our sponsors are in a panic, the other half want to increase your visibility. It's chaos out there."

Seungcheol straightened, his jaw set in determination. "Jeonghan, I'm sorry for any trouble this has caused the team. But I won't apologize for my relationship with Y/N. If the sponsors have a problem with that—"

Jeonghan held up a hand, cutting him off. "Relax, kid. Nobody's asking you to choose between your career and your girl. We just need to manage this situation better. Which is why I've hired a speciality PR firm to handle your public image as a couple."

Y/N and Seungcheol exchanged surprised glances. This was not what they had expected.

"You're... supportive of us?" Y/N asked hesitantly.

Jeonghan's expression softened. "Look, I've known Seungcheol since he was a rookie. I've never seen him as happy or as focused as he's been since he met you. As far as I'm concerned, you're good for him and good for this team. We just need to make sure the rest of the world sees that too."

Relief washed over both of them. As they left Jeonghan's office, Seungcheol pulled Y/N into a tight hug. "One down," he murmured into her hair.

"One down," she agreed. "Now we just have to face my agency."

The meeting with Y/N's modeling agency was considerably less pleasant. Her agent, a sharp-faced woman named Vivian, paced the conference room like a caged tiger.

"Do you have any idea how many contracts we've had to renegotiate because of this scandal?" she snapped. "Your wholesome image was a major selling point, Y/N. Now half our clients are worried you're too controversial."

Y/N felt Seungcheol tense beside her, but she placed a calming hand on his arm. "Vivian," she said, her voice steady, "I understand your concerns. But I'm still the same model I was a week ago. My relationship status doesn't change my professionalism or my ability to do my job."

Vivian stopped pacing, fixing Y/N with a calculating look. "Maybe... maybe we can work with this. The bad girl image is in right now. And a high-profile relationship could open up new markets..."

As Vivian continued to muse about potential strategies, Y/N and Seungcheol shared a look of disbelief. It seemed that even in this storm of controversy, there might be a silver lining.

By the time they left the agency, both Seungcheol and Y/N were emotionally drained. As they walked to their car, a small group of fans approached, asking for autographs and selfies.

Y/N tensed, expecting intrusive questions or judgmental looks. But to her surprise, the fans were supportive and excited.

"You guys are so cute together!" one young girl gushed. "I hope I find someone who looks at me the way Seungcheol looks at you."

As they drove home, Y/N felt a weight lift from her shoulders. "You know," she said, turning to Seungcheol, "maybe this won't be as bad as we thought."

Seungcheol grinned, bringing her hand to his lips for a quick kiss. "With you by my side? Nothing's too tough to handle."

As they pulled into their driveway, both their phones pinged with a notification. It was a message from the PR firm Jeonghan had hired, outlining their strategy for the coming weeks.

Y/N scrolled through the message, her eyes widening. "They want us to do a joint interview? And a photoshoot for a major magazine?"

Seungcheol nodded, looking thoughtful. "It could be a good opportunity to control the narrative. Tell our story on our own terms."

Y/N bit her lip, considering. "You're right. And hey, at least we'll be facing it together."

As they walked into their home, hand in hand, both Seungcheol and Y/N felt a renewed sense of hope. The road ahead might be challenging, but they were determined to navigate it together, their love serving as both compass and anchor in the stormy seas of public life.

Exhausted from the emotional roller coaster of the day, they decided to turn in early. As they went through their nightly routines, moving around each other with the comfortable familiarity of a long-term couple, both felt a deep sense of gratitude for the other's presence.

Y/N finished brushing her teeth and padded into the bedroom, where Seungcheol was already under the covers, his back propped against the headboard as he scrolled through his phone. He looked up as she entered, a soft smile spreading across his face.

"Come here, you," he said, setting his phone aside and opening his arms.

Y/N didn't need to be told twice. She slipped under the covers and into Seungcheol's embrace, sighing contentedly as she rested her head on his chest. The steady thump of his heartbeat beneath her ear was comforting, grounding.

Seungcheol's fingers threaded through her hair, gently massaging her scalp. "How are you feeling?" he asked softly.

Y/N thought for a moment before answering. "Honestly? I feel... good. Today was crazy, but we got through it. Together."

Seungcheol pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "We did. And we'll get through whatever comes next the same way."

Y/N tilted her head up to look at him, her eyes shining with love and trust. "I know we will. I love you, Seungcheol."

"I love you too, Y/N," he murmured, leaning down to capture her lips in a tender kiss.

As they settled into bed, Seungcheol's arms wrapped securely around Y/N, her back pressed to his chest, they both felt a profound sense of peace. The outside world, with all its demands and judgments, seemed far away. In this moment, in the quiet of their bedroom, nothing existed but the two of them and the love they shared.

Y/N snuggled deeper into Seungcheol's embrace, feeling safe and cherished. "Goodnight, love," she whispered, her eyes already heavy with sleep.

"Goodnight, beautiful," Seungcheol replied, placing one last soft kiss on her shoulder.

As they drifted off to sleep, tangled in each other's arms, both Seungcheol and Y/N felt truly content.

The early morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the bedroom. Seungcheol stirred first, his eyes blinking open to find Y/N still nestled in his arms, her face peaceful in sleep. He couldn't help but smile, marveling at how beautiful she looked in the soft light.

As if sensing his gaze, Y/N's eyes fluttered open. A slow, sleepy smile spread across her face as she met Seungcheol's loving gaze. "Good morning, handsome," she murmured, her voice still husky with sleep.

Seungcheol leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "Good morning, beautiful. Sleep well?"

Y/N nodded, stretching languidly against him. "Mmm, like a baby. You make an excellent pillow, you know."

Seungcheol chuckled, his hand running soothingly up and down her back. "Happy to be of service."

They lay there for a while longer, enjoying the quiet intimacy of the morning. It was a stark contrast to the chaos of the previous day, and both of them savored the peaceful moment.

Eventually, the buzz of Seungcheol's phone on the nightstand broke the spell. He reached for it, careful not to disturb Y/N too much.

"It's Jeonghan," he said, scanning the message. "The PR team wants to meet with us this afternoon to prep for the interview and photoshoot."

Y/N propped herself up on one elbow, her expression a mix of excitement and nervousness. "I guess it's time to face the music, huh?"

Seungcheol set the phone aside and pulled Y/N closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Hey, we've got this. Remember, it's just us telling our story."

Y/N nodded, drawing strength from his confidence. "You're right. Plus, it might even be fun. I've always wanted to see you try to model," she added with a teasing grin.

Seungcheol gasped in mock offense. "Excuse me, I'll have you know I'm an excellent model. These racing suits don't wear themselves, you know."

Their laughter filled the room, dispelling any lingering tension. As they got up to start their day, both felt ready to take on whatever challenges lay ahead.

The PR team's office was a sleek, modern space in the heart of the city. Seungcheol and Y/N were ushered into a conference room where they were greeted by a trio of sharp-looking professionals.

"Seungcheol, Y/N, thank you for coming," said the woman at the head of the table. "I'm Rebecca, and this is my team, Alex and Mia. We're here to help you navigate this new chapter in your public lives."

For the next few hours, they went over strategies for the upcoming interview and photoshoot. The team was impressed by the natural chemistry between Seungcheol and Y/N, often exchanging pleased glances as the couple interacted.

"You two are naturals," Alex commented during a break. "The camera is going to love you."

As they were wrapping up, Rebecca handed them each a folder. "These are some talking points for the interview. Remember, the goal is to be authentic while also presenting a united front. Your love story is compelling – let that shine through."

Seungcheol and Y/N left the meeting feeling more confident about the upcoming media appearances. As they walked hand in hand down the busy street, Y/N suddenly tugged Seungcheol to a stop.

"Look," she said, pointing across the road. There, on a massive billboard, was an advertisement for Luxe Motors featuring a stunning sports car. "That could be us up there soon."

Seungcheol wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. "It will be. And we'll look damn good doing it."

The day of the photoshoot arrived bright and early. The set was a gorgeous beachfront property, with the ocean providing a stunning backdrop. As they went through hair and makeup, Seungcheol couldn't keep his eyes off Y/N.

"You know," he said, leaning close to whisper in her ear, "if this is what modeling is like, I might have to reconsider my career choices."

Y/N laughed, swatting him playfully. "Don't you dare. I quite like having a race car driver for a boyfriend."

The photoshoot itself was a whirlwind of costume changes, different poses, and endless flashes. But through it all, Seungcheol and Y/N's natural chemistry shone through. Whether they were posed casually by a vintage car or dressed to the nines for a red carpet shot, their connection was palpable.

"These are going to be stunning," the photographer gushed as he showed them some of the shots on his camera. "You can really feel the love between you two."

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the beach, the photographer suggested one last shot. Seungcheol and Y/N stood at the water's edge, the waves lapping at their feet. With the Luxe Motors car in the background, Seungcheol wrapped his arms around Y/N from behind, both of them looking out at the horizon.

"Perfect," the photographer said softly, not wanting to break the moment. "That's a wrap, folks!"

Later that evening, as they returned to Seungcheol's apartment, the excitement of the day still thrummed through their veins. Y/N scrolled through some of the behind-the-scenes photos on her phone as Seungcheol poured them each a glass of wine.

"We do look good together, don't we?" she mused, showing Seungcheol a candid shot of them laughing between takes.

Seungcheol set the wine glasses on the kitchen counter and moved behind Y/N, wrapping his arms around her waist. "The best," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot just below her ear. "Though I have to say, I prefer the real thing to any photo."

Y/N's breath hitched as Seungcheol's lips trailed down her neck. She set her phone aside, turning in his arms to face him. "Is that so?" she breathed, her eyes dark with desire. "Care to show me just how much you prefer the real thing?"

In response, Seungcheol captured her lips in a searing kiss. Y/N melted into him, her hands sliding up to tangle in his hair. With a low growl, Seungcheol lifted her onto the kitchen counter, stepping between her legs as she wrapped them around his waist.

Their kisses grew more heated, hands roaming with increasing urgency. Y/N tugged at Seungcheol's shirt, and he broke away just long enough to pull it off before returning to her lips. His hands slid under her blouse, caressing the soft skin of her back.

"Cheol," Y/N gasped as his lips found that spot on her neck again. "Bedroom?"

Seungcheol pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with desire. "Why wait?" he asked, his voice husky. "I want you right here, right now."

Y/N's answer was to pull him back in for another passionate kiss. Clothes were shed hastily, scattering across the kitchen floor. When Seungcheol finally entered her, they both gasped at the sensation.

They moved together with a passionate urgency, the counter providing the perfect leverage. Y/N's nails raked down Seungcheol's back as she neared her peak, while Seungcheol's hands gripped her hips, guiding their movements.

"Cheol, I'm close," Y/N panted, her head falling back in ecstasy.

"Let go, baby," Seungcheol murmured against her skin. "I've got you."

They reached their climax together, crying out each other's names into the quiet of the apartment. As they came down from their high, Seungcheol peppered Y/N's face with soft kisses, murmuring words of love and adoration.

Later, as they lounged on the couch, wrapped in soft blankets and each other's arms, Y/N's phone buzzed with a notification. She reached for it, her eyes widening as she read the message.

"Cheol, look at this," she said, showing him the screen. "The magazine wants to bump up the release date of our photoshoot. They say the public's fascination with us is at an all-time high."

Seungcheol read the message, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Looks like our risk is paying off, huh?"

Y/N nodded, snuggling closer to him. "I was so worried about going public, but now... it feels right. Like we're finally free to just be us."

Seungcheol pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I know what you mean. It's like the whole world can see what I've known all along – that you're the most amazing person I've ever met."

Y/N tilted her head up, capturing his lips in a soft, sweet kiss. When they parted, she had a mischievous glint in her eye. "You know, I think we missed a spot in the kitchen. Want to go for round two?"

Seungcheol laughed, the sound full of joy and love. "Lead the way, beautiful."

As they made their way back to the kitchen, hand in hand and giggling like teenagers, both Seungcheol and Y/N felt a profound sense of happiness. Their relationship had been thrust into the spotlight, but rather than wilting under the pressure, they had blossomed. Together, they were ready to face whatever the future held, their love a beacon guiding them through the dazzling world of fame and fortune.

The next morning dawned bright and early, finding Seungcheol and Y/N already up and about. They moved around the kitchen in perfect sync, preparing breakfast together as they discussed their plans for the day.

"I've got a team meeting at 10," Seungcheol said as he flipped pancakes. "Want to meet for lunch after?"

Y/N nodded, pouring coffee into their mugs. "Sounds perfect. I've got a fitting for that new designer campaign, but I should be done by noon."

As they sat down to eat, both their phones pinged with new messages. They shared a look, then reached for their devices.

"It's from the PR team," Seungcheol said, scanning the message. "They want to schedule a follow-up interview to coincide with the magazine release."

Y/N's eyes lit up as she read her own message. "Luxe Motors loves the preview shots. They want to discuss a long-term partnership with both of us!"

Seungcheol reached across the table, taking Y/N's hand in his. "Ready for our next adventure?" he asked, his eyes shining with excitement and love.

Y/N squeezed his hand, her smile radiant. "With you? Always."

[woso-dreamzzz]

Head In The Clouds: Christmas

Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

Summary: Christmas with Mcdreamy

"No! Don't touch!"

Irene yelps as a wooden spatula slams onto her knuckles.

"I just-"

"No!" You insist, waving the spatula around again in warning. "This is my kitchen! Don't touch!"

"I can help!"

"No! Go!"

Irene looks like she wants to argue more but you raise the spatula again and she puts her hands up in a placating manner as she backs away onto the sofa.

Marta holds out a tray of tiny sausages to her. "You got kicked out of the kitchen too?"

"I was just trying to help."

Marta shrugs. "You know what she's like. Nothing comes between her and cooking."

"I swear she's been cooking for ages," Irene complains," She was up early too, I just know it."

"You can't prove it though," Patri says smugly, snatching some food for herself and munching away," Plausible deniability and all that."

"She needs a break."

"Don't bring that up with her," Frido says as she takes a seat on the arm of the sofa," You know she'd spend hours in that kitchen if she could. That's what we get for agreeing to dinner with a kid who's parents are chefs."

"No touching!" You yell from the kitchen and the little group cranes their hands to see your waving that spatula around in Alexia's face.

"I was just-"

"No! You're ruining! You're not allowed to touch! It's against the rules!"

"What rules?"

"My rules! The rules of my kitchen! That you are standing in!"

"Come on, just let me-"

"No!"

Irene smothers a laugh as you stamp your foot.

"You can fill up drinks or you can go away."

Keira laughs from the cosy armchair. "I'd listen to her, Ale! You're not going to get the best food if you distract her."

Alexia grumpily wedges herself onto the already over-full sofa. "I'm just trying to help. She's making this dinner for the whole team. I don't want her to get overwhelmed."

Keira rolls her eyes. "Her parents literally have Michelin stars. She grew up in the kitchen of world famous restaurants. I doubt doing a bit of cooking at home is going to overwhelm her."

Just as she finishes speaking, ten different timers ring out through the air, one after another, and Keira winces.

"I'm sure that's on purpose," She says as Alexia levels her a pointed look.

To be fair to you, you're not overwhelmed in the slightest and Alexia can see the moment the instinct takes over you like it does on the pitch, when everything around you completely disappears apart from what is directly in front of you.

Most of the time, it ends with a goal.

But here and now, it ends with the biggest spread of food she's ever seen cooked by one person before.

It's truly impressive what you've managed to produce for everyone, a buffet style meal that the whole team can pick and choose what they want from and still come back for seconds.

"You shouldn't eat too much," You say as you settle into your seat between Irene and Ingrid," Because I've got dessert as well. It's my Nana's recipe and I'd like you all to try it."

"We'll make sure to save room," Mapi promises as she reaches over the table to wrestle the stuffing away from Patri's clingy hands.

You beam at her. It's a wide smile, the same smile you get when you score a goal out of nowhere - making triumph out of nothing as you so often do after a pass that no one expects you to turn into an assist.

A big meal like this isn't a strange thing in your family back home. Your brothers are very busy people and your parents spend most of their time prepping for the dinner service of their restaurant every night.

But Christmas meant the whole family got together again. With your brothers mainly based in the Netherlands, you didn't see them as often until you and your parents were at arrivals at Heathrow Airport and the three of them came in after baggage claim.

With the family together again, it meant making a feast of a meal for Christmas with everyone in the kitchen, working around each other fluidly like your parents had taught you when you were little.

It felt nice to share this kind of meal with your teammates even after you came to the conclusion that none of them worked particularly fluidly in your kitchen and then had to get banned for your own peace of mind.

It filled you with pride to have your teammates eating and enjoying your food to such a degree that even the older, more responsible players like Marta and Alexia and Irene asked if you could box up some of the meal so they could eat some for leftovers the next day.

"You know," Alexia says when you finally allow her into your kitchen, if only to help you wash up," If you want to stay in Spain for Christmas, I can take you home with me. My family would love the food you cook."

"Don't joke around with stuff like that," Irene teases, dragging the drying up cloth over the plate that Mapi had just finished cleaning," Because if she's coming home with anyone for Christmas, it'll be me."

"I can't," You say simply as you put the lid on another portion of leftovers, this time for Salma," Because I've got to go home. My parents are closing the restaurant a couple of days early so we can pick up my brothers from the airport and I can't miss that."

"Well-"

"And I have to be home so my girlfriend can call and read me poetry on Christmas Eve. It's tradition."

"That's..." Irene clears her throat. "That's really sweet."

"And she always reads to me in French because she knows I'm trying to learn for her. So, I can't stay here because then I won't see my brothers and before my girlfriend reads me poetry, she likes seeing my pets at home and I can't show her my pets if I'm here."

Alexia laughs and you furrow your brows in confusion.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Alexia says, throwing an arm around your shoulder and squeezing you like she does when you score a goal," You're such a sweetheart, y/n. Don't ever change."

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Pick One: Magical Girl Show or Rom-com. You cannot be both.

Early in season four we get the episode Gang of Secrets. An episode that ends with Marinette outing her secret identity to Alya. A touching moment that sparked outrage across the fandom because it meant that Marinette had made the choice to reveal her identity to her best friend while keeping her hero partner in the dark.

This choice spat in the face of the exceptions that many fans had for the series. Thousands of pre-season-four fanfics feature moments where Ladybug and Chat Noir promise each other that they'll be the first to know each other's identities. After the Alya reveal, scores of fanfics were written to salt on Marinette's choice to tell the "wrong" person.

Most of these fics feature a betrayed Chat Noir quitting or otherwise punishing Ladybug for breaking their promise to be each other's first, thereby destroying his faith in their partnership. But that promise was never made on screen. It only existed in the realms of fanfic and, when Chat Noir finally found out in canon, his reaction was largely neutral. He never once blamed Ladybug for her choice or pushed for a reveal or even asked for the right to tell one of his friends.

So what happened here? Why did the fans have such wildly unrealistic expectations of canon? Were their expectations even unrealistic or did canon betray them? The answer to that is not as straight forward as you might think because it all comes back to one of Miraculous' many, many, many writing problems: Miraculous is trying to be both a Magical Girl Show and a romantic comedy, but those are not genres that mesh. You can only be one (or you can be a third thing that we'll get to at the end as it's the easiest way to fix this mess, but I want to mostly focus on where the anger is coming from and why the writing is to blame.)

To discuss this mismatch, we're going to do something that breaks my heart and talk about some of Origins flaws. While I love that episode and unironically refer to it as the best writing the show ever gave us, it's not perfect and its flaws are all focused around trying to set up both genres. Do note that I'm going to use a lot of gender binary language here as magical girl shows have a strong focus on gender segregation and rarely if ever acknowledge gender diversity.

Let's Talk Magical Girls

Magical girl shows are shows that center on young women and their friendships. While male love interests are often present in these shows, the boys tend to take a backseat and function primarily as arm candy while the girls save the day and carry the narrative.

A great example of this is the show Winx Club. This show features a large cast of teenage girls who save the magical universe from various threats with their magical powers. Each girl has a love interest, but the boys are usually off doing their own thing and only occasionally show up for a date or to give the girls a ride on their cool bikes or magical spaceship. I don't even think that we see the guys fight or, if we do, it's a rare thing. They are not there to save the day. They are there to be shipping fodder.

Like most magical girl shows, Winx Club starts with the main character making friends with one of the girls who will eventually become part of her magical girl squad. This brings us back to Miraculous.

Did you ever find it weird that Origins implies that Marinette has no friends? She doesn't even have a backbone until new girl Alya shows up to become Marinette's First Real Friend:

Marinette: I so wish I can handle Chloé the way you do. Alya: You mean the way Majestia does it. She says all that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing. (pointing at Chloé) Well, that girl over there is evil, and we are the good people. We can't let her get away with it.

This is a bizarre opening because Miraculous is not about Marinette making friends or learning to stand up for herself. If you skipped Origins and just watched the rest of the show, then you'd have no clue that Marinette wasn't close with her classmates before this year. You also wouldn't know that Alya was new in town and you definitely wouldn't know that Marinette had never stood up to Chloé before this year. So why is this here? Why waste screen time setting up elements that aren't actually important to canon?

Miraculous did it for the same reason that Winx Club did it: magical girl shows traditionally start with the main character making friends with at least one of her eventual female teammates because Magical Girl shows are all about the girls and their relationships. The boys are just arm candy.

But Miraculous isn't a magical girl show. The writers have explicitly stated that it's a rom-com and romantic comedies aren't about female friendship. They might have female friendships in them, but that's not where the focus is. The focus of a rom-com is on the romance and Origins is very clearly all about the romance.

Origins as a Rom-com

Origins has a lot on its plate. It has to establish the villain's motivation for the first time, show us how the heroes got their miraculous, show us how the heroes first met on both sides of the mask, show us how they met their respective best friends, and show us how the heroes dealt with their first akuma. It would be perfectly understandable if this 40 minute two-parter didn't do anything with the romance. They have a full show to give us that!

In spite of this, Origins has some incredibly touching moments for both Ladynoir and Adrienette because romance is the heart of Miraculous. It is the main focus of the show. The driving motivation for both of our leads and the majority of the show's episodes. To tell the story of how their journey started without at least one of them falling in love would feel wrong. That's why we see both of them fall in love!

First we get Chat Noir giving his heart to his bold and brilliant lady, then we get Marinette's heart being stolen by the shy sweet boy who never once thought to blame her for her snap judgement of his character. We even get a touching moment where Chat Noir inspires his lady to accept her role and be Ladybug, leading her to boldly face their enemy and call him out:

Roger: I have a new plan, unlike you! Move aside and let the pros do their thing. You've already failed once! Ladybug: …He's right, you know. If I'd captured Stoneheart's akuma the first time around, none of this would have happened! I knew I wasn't the right one for this job… Cat Noir: No. He's wrong, because without you, she'd no longer be here. (they look at Chloe) And because without us, they won't make it, and we'll prove that to 'em. Trust me on this. Okay? Ladybug: Okay.

I love this moment, but it does lose a little of its power when you remember that we had an Alya-driven variation of this exact same thing five minutes prior:

Alya: HELP!! (Marinette suddenly gets filled with courage. She gets the case out of Alya's bag and puts on the Miraculous. Then, Tikki appears, happy to see Marinette again.) Tikki:(raising her arms) Mmmm! Marinette: I think I need Ladybug! Tikki: I knew you'd come around! Marinette: Well, I'm still not sure I'm up for this, but Alya's in danger. I can't sit back and do nothing.

This scene initially confused me because - if Miraculous is a rom-com - then why would you make Alya the reason that Marinette became Ladybug? Why wouldn't you have Chat Noir be the one in danger so that Marinette chose to fight because of her love interest and then encourage that bond with the later scene of him encouraging her? Why split the focus like this? Why give Alya so much attention?

In case you haven't figured it out, it's because Origins is trying to establish two different genres of show. Two genres that will continue to fight for the rest of the series (or at least the first five seasons).

Magical Girls Vs Rom-com

Why is Alya the one to shake off the nightmare dust and inspire the others during the season five finale? Why is Alya the one that Marinette trusts with all of her plans while Chat Noir is kept in the dark? Why does Alya and Marinette's friendship get so much more focus than Adrien and Nino's? Why was Alya the only temp hero who got upgraded to full time hero?

It's because Alya is Marinette's second in command in a magical girl show and magical girl shows focus on female friendships while the boys are just there to be cute and support the girls.

Why do most of Marinette's talks with Alya focus on Adrien? Why is Chat Noir the only other full time holder of a Miraculous for the first three seasons and then again for the final season? Why do Marinette's friends become more and more obsessed with Adrienentte as the show goes on? Why is the love square's identity reveal given so much more narrative weight than any other identity reveal?

It's because Miraculous is a rom-com and the love square is our end game couple, so of course the story focuses on their relationship above all else!

Are you starting to see the problem?

Circling back to our original question: no, it was not unreasonable for the fans to expect that the Alya reveal would have massive negative consequences for Ladynoir. That is what should happen in a rom-com and Miraculous is mainly written like a rom-com. But the writers are also trying to write a magical girl show and, in a magical girl show, Alya and Marinette's friendship should be the most important relationship in the show, so it makes perfect sense that the show treats the Alya reveal as perfectly fine because the Alya reveal was written from the magical girl show perspective.

When it comes to Miraculous, if you ever feel like a writing choice makes no sense for genre A, re-frame it as a thing from genre B and it suddenly makes perfect sense which is fascinatingly terrible writing! It's no wonder there are people who hate the Alya reveal and people who will defend it with their life. It all depends on which genre elements you've picked up on and clung to. Neither side is right, they've both been set up to have perfectly valid expectations. Whether those expectations are valid for a given episode is entirely up to the mercurial whims of the writers!

How Do We Fix This Mess

At this point, I don't think that we can, the show is too far gone, but if someone gave me the power to change one element of Miraculous, that element would be this: scrap both the magical girl stuff and the rom-com stuff and turn Miraculous into a team show where the friendships transcend gender.

At this point, I've written over a quarter of a million words of fanfic focused on these characters (the brain rot is real) and one thing I've discovered is that it is damn near impossible to keep Adrien and Alya from becoming friends. They're both new to their school while Marinette and Nino have gone to the same school for at least a few years. Alya and Adrien are both obsessed with Ladybug plus Adrien is a natural hype man who loves to support his friends and Alya loves to talk about her blog. Alya is dating Adrien's best friend. On top of that, Alya, Adrien, Nino, and Marinette are all in the same class, meaning that they pretty much have to be spending time together five days a week unless French school don't give kids a chance to socialize or do group projects. If so, then judging them for the first issue, but super jealous of the latter.

Given all of that, why in the world is does it feel like Alya is Marinette's close friend while Adrien is just some guy who goes to Alya's school? Along similar lines, while canon Marinette barely talks to Nino, I've found that Marinette and Nino tend to get along smashingly, especially if you embrace the fact that they have to have known each other for at least a few years.

If you embrace this wider friendship dynamic and scrap the girl squad, replacing it with Alya, Adrien, Marinette, and Nino, then the fight for narrative importance quickly goes away. It's no longer a question of is this episode trying to be a magical girl show or a rom-com? Instead, the question is: which element of the friend group is getting focused on today? The romance or the friendship?

A lot of hero shows do this and do it well. I think that one of the most well known examples is Teen Titans. That show has five main characters and the focus is usually on their friendships, but there is a very clear running romantic tension between the characters Robin and Starfire with several episodes giving a good deal of focus to their romance. I'd say that this element really starts in the show's the 19th episode - Date with Destiny - and it all culminates in the movie that capstones the series: Trouble in Tokyo. The character Beast Boy also gets a romance arc and, while it's more short lived, it's further evidence that you can have strong romances and strong friendships in the same show and even the same episode. You just have to own the fact that boys and girls can be friends with each other, a very logical thing to embrace when your show has decided to have a diverse cast of heroes instead of imposing arbitrary gender limitations on its magical powers.

I couldn't figure out a way to work this into the main essay, but it's relevant so I wanted to quickly point it out and give you more to think about re Origins. Have you ever found it weird how Origins gives both Adrien AND Marinette the "I've never had friends before" backstory and yet wider canon acts like Marinette has this strong amazing friend group while Adrien doesn't seem to care about making friends and instead focuses all his energy on romance? Why give both the protagonist and the supposed deuteragonist this kind of origin if it's not going to be a major element of the show? It makes so much more sense to only give one of them this backstory and then focus that person's character arc on learning about friendship.

[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

All Chapters List

XVI. Separation and Triumph (+18, Smut, MDNI)

"Amor vincit omnia."

Love conquers all.

“Domina!”

They called out to you cheerfully as you got out of the carriage and ran towards Norell and Decima. They were running towards you too. You embraced them with tears in your eyes and walked into the courtyard together. Marcus noticed Octavius, who was waiting at the entrance with a smile on his face. He was the one who took care of everything until your arrival. Marcus tapped his friend on the shoulder and invited him inside. You saw Tullia in the courtyard, gave her a hug too. Even though she was a bit hesitant due to respect as was her custom, she hugged you back.

Everyone was delighted to be home. That evening, you suggested having dinner together in the courtyard, with everyone else included. This was definitely the first time anyone had seen an evening like this in the villa. It was certainly not a common occurrence in other villas or houses in Rome. However, the slaves were still shy, understandably so, given the unusual situation. If they told anyone on the street, it is likely that no one would believe them. Nevertheless, it was true. You saw them as family, not just as slaves, and they had a lot of respect and admiration for you.

On that particular evening, you managed to surprise Marcus once more. He was continually amazed at your capacity for compassion, and mercy. Throughout the meal, he was unable to take his eyes off you. He thought you were so stunning that it felt as if you could only be a dream yet you were there, by his side. You were a blessing to him, not just a person, a miracle that he woke up to every morning.

After dinner, you checked out the renovated and refurbished parts of the villa together. The courtyard was bigger and there was a private resting area right next to the fountain. It also seemed like a great spot for when you have guests over too. You headed back to your chambers as it was getting dark. You were really pleased with the new look of your room. Marcus's armour and other dangerous items were taken to the next room. A small mattress and a closet were added. This wasn't the only change.

The bed was wider and more comfortable, with drapes and a canopy. The tulle around the bed was tied with ribbons and had floral ornaments. It was clear that it had been prepared carefully. The rest of the room was pretty much the same, with the desk, small dining table, and clothes section. As your belly was getting bigger every day, your old tunics were a bit tight, especially at the waist. While Marcus took off his red shawl, you checked the measurements of all your tunics. It was clear that you wouldn't fit into any of them soon.

Marcus took off his belt and looked you over from head to toe. "If you're not sure what to wear, I can give you some advice."

You smiled without looking at him. “I already know what you're going to say."

“Are you reading my mind?” He asked. "Well..." He was moving slowly towards you. “What is on my mind at the moment, princess?” He wrapped his arms around you. It was pretty obvious what he was thinking, given that you could feel him right behind your hips. You turned your head and touched his nose with yours.

“I think, you want me?”

“That's so true.” His thick fingers ran through your hair and inhaled your scent. “So, where do I want you? Any guesses?”

"Hmm, on our new bed?"

He turned you around and put his hands on your hips, making you gasp. “And right beneath me.” He said, breathing heavily.

You threw your arms around his neck and looked into his eyes, your heart racing with excitement. "Should I tell you where I want you, too?"

He smirked, leaned in and kissed the tip of your nose. "Tell me, my love." Another kiss on the corner of your lips. "Where do you want me?" One more kiss on your neck. "Say it." and another kiss, this time on the collarbone, sending shivers of delight down your spine with each warm kiss.

You pulled his head closer and whispered in his ear with a seductive smile on your lips. "I want you deep inside me."

And before you knew it, you were in his arms, gasping as the ground gave way beneath your feet.

"Whatever my princess wants." He said as he carried you to the bed. You crawled across the middle of the bed. "At your service, my lady." He grinned and you swayed a little with the jolt of his weight as he crawled onto the bed towards you.

"I realise the bed is bigger now, was that necessary?" You asked, your voice filled with playful teasing.

Marcus gripped the hem of your tunic as you ran your hand along the silk sheet, his eyes sparkling with desire.

"You didn't like it? I thought we might be able to move on the wide bed more easily." He said, helping you out of the tunic and taking you by the waist. He pulled you in closer and together you rolled to the other side of the bed, with you now on top of him. "Like this, for instance. Or..." He grabbed you again and this time you rolled to the other end of the bed. This time he was on top of you. "Like this."

You giggled. "I think I understand your point." You reached out your arms to remove his tunic, and once he was free of it, he grasped your legs and drew you closer to him. His gaze shifted from humorous to predatory as he gazed at your exposed body. You felt like his prey, and your heart beat faster as his eager hands slid slowly from your ankles to your legs and then to your thighs. Marcus pressed his lips hungrily against yours and tension hummed between the two of you as your lips touched. 

Tasting the wine he'd just drunk and rolled your tongue around his. You were holding back a little from drinking wine since you were carrying a child, but you realised that you missed the taste. Your enthusiastic movements in his mouth had only served to heighten his arousal. He was filled with excitement and pleasure, an interesting mix that would lead to him taking you roughly. He rubbed his need against your pearl, you were slick as he teased your entrance with the smooth wide tip of his length. He kissed you as he pushed himself inside you. The two of you moaned into the kiss, you were mewling as his length hit your inner back wall. Backing off the kiss to let you catch your breath, he then began to pull out and thrust back into you. Your tight wet warmth surrounded him as he thrust and pulled inside you. He held your hands in his own, pinning you to the bed as he kept thrusting his hips back and forth, slowly picking up speed. Rolling his hips in that way he knew you loved, the two of you started panting and moaning louder.

"Marcus," you said breathlessly. "Deeper, please."

"As you wish, my love." He hummed.

You gasped as you felt him lift your legs up to get a more direct angle into you. His hips picked up speed, driving into you harder. Your legs dangled in the air as he pounded into you, and you moaned loudly. He set one of your legs back down, straightening up his back as he lifted the other one over his shoulder. Your hips began bucking in time with his own. You looked at him, staring into his dark brown eyes as felt some kind of raw wave of pleasure course through your body. Setting your leg back down, he resumed his earlier stance over you, his one arm grabbed you around the waist. You knew from that move that he was close, so you were. His mouth found yours once more. You moaned into his mouth, lost in the mess of love and pleasure you two shared.

"What do you want me to do now, my love?" He asked huskily. He could feel himself beginning to tighten up as his body built up to release.

"Fill me in…” You panted. “With your love,” your breath hit against his collarbone which spurred his on, making him thrust harder and harder into you. Your legs wrapped around his hips, your arms following suit around his back to pull him closer. His chest pressing against your breasts, he gave several more hard thrusts before finally stopping. You both hit your climaxes at once, he was filling you with his seed, and you could feel it all build up within you as you rode your own pleasure out. He kissed your breasts as he felt your rapid heart racing against your ribcage.

After a few minutes, your breath began to settle. Marcus leaned in and kissed you. One of your hands moved up to behind his head, while the other ran his back up and down. When he pulled out of you and broke the kiss, you let out another moan. He looked down and smiled to see some of his seed trickling out of you. You rolled over, and he rested his head on the pillow while you curled into him to listen to his heartbeat slow down. You ran your fingers over his bare chest while you were at it. You lay there for what seemed like an eternity, lost in your bliss. His scent on your skin, the taste of him in your mouth and his warm seed still floating in the very center of your womanhood, all of it show that you were conquered by him. You smiled to yourself, feeling a sense of belonging to him in every part of your body. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer, then drew the silk sheets up, covering you both. Your eyelids were already closing as you rested your head on his chest, feeling safe and loved. The last thing you felt before drifting off to sleep was his lips moving slowly over your head.

The sun came up over the horizon in a beautiful, graceful arc, bathing the sky in a kaleidoscope of colours as the day began. The villa was illuminated by the sun's rays, which brought about a striking contrast to the previous days' gloom. The villa had been quite deserted, ruined and abandoned in the past few days. However, as of this morning, it was evident that it was waking up to better days than its former ones, as sounds began to spread out of its courtyard. The sense of comfort and peace at leaving those difficult days behind was starting to spread throughout this large house.

The same tranquil atmosphere was also present in your bedroom. The mornings you woke up in the villa were quite noisy but peaceful and full of life, unlike the ones at Domus Severiana, which were boring, quiet and full of intrigue. You smile as you listen to all those sounds you've missed. The cheerful rooster, the birds singing outside the window, the light footsteps coming from the courtyard, indicating the slaves were getting started with their day, and of course, the breathing of the man you loved lying next to you. You wanted to enjoy these morning sounds for a while longer, but as soon as you felt Marcus's warm lips on your sternum, you opened your eyes.

Looking down, you noticed his grey curly hair, and reach out to run your fingers through it. He looked up at you with a mischievous expression on his face.

"Morning," you said, yawning.

"Morning indeed. Since my sun rose from her sleep now." He kissed your chin and made you giggle. Your heartbeat quickened as his lips traveled down from your chin to your neck and down to your collarbone. You slid your fingers from his hair to the nape of his neck. He propped himself up on his elbow on the bed and slowly slid the back of his hand from between your breasts to your navel, pulling down the sheet covering your body to expose your entire body. His hasty lips met yours and he ran a hand over your knees, slipping his fingers between them as you immediately spread your legs for him. It was your body's classic response to his magic touch. A little hastily he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer. Positioning himself between your legs and fondling your entrance with his thick fingers, you bit your lower lip in pleasure.

"Hmm, so ready for me," he grinned then he slid his length deep inside you, making you moan loudly. You watched him as he licked your wetness off his thumb, then his lips, relishing every second of the taste. He then leaned towards you and met your mouth again. The gentle breeze from the window blew the tulle around the bed towards you, but you were too caught up in the moment to pay attention to it. You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck as he made glorious thrusts into your most sensitive spot, taking you to the heights of raw pleasure.

He pulled his hips back and grabbed yours just as he was coming out of you, adjusted himself, and thrust again, this time going deeper inside you. This sends waves of pleasure through your body with each movement. You were on the brink, teetering dangerously close to the edge. Your fingers scratching around his neck was driving him wild. Suddenly he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you roughly to him and sat on his heels on the bed. As you wrapped your legs around his waist, a wave of mind-blowing pleasure swept over your whole body. You felt like you were seeing your surroundings in a yellowish filter, and you were sure it wasn't the sunlight filtering into the room. As you let out a loud moan, he buried his head in your collarbone and let out a roar against your neck, sucking and nibbling at your flesh as you felt him bless you with his hot liquid. You both stayed like that for a while with your eyes closed, panting. As your breathing settled down, you could hear the sounds from outside again which brought you back to reality. He put his forehead against yours, you opened your eyes, you giggled at each other and then he laid you back down.  He slowly came out of you, and you made a sound like mewling. He smirked and kissed your cheek. You watched as he picked up his white tunic from the floor and put it on, waiting for your breathing to return to normal. He got out of bed and walked to the door, ordering the slaves to bring breakfast for you. Then he approached you and pulled the sheet over your body.

"Get some rest until breakfast arrives, my love," he smiled, turned, and walked over to his desk.

You sat up in bed to see what he was doing. He sat down and took some papers from the drawer.

"I suppose the General of Rome doesn't get much rest."

He replied with a smile as he picked up his quill and dipped it into the ink. "I need to let my legates and the legion in the south know what's been going on recently."

"I see. Then you will go to the Field of Mars to send the message, won't you?" You asked.

"Yes, my lady. I will." He replied as he wrote it.

You got out of bed and went to the closet to get some clean clothes. He gave you a quick glance as you wore your cream tunic. Then you slowly approached Marcus. You sat down in the chair opposite his desk and picked up the seal of Legion III with the Pegasus symbol on it. He looked at you and sighed.

"But it's so hard," he murmured. You looked at him, not understanding what he meant. "I can't concentrate with you sitting across from me, looking so beautiful.”

Your cheeks flushed and put your hand over your face. "Should I cover my face like this then?"

He smiled, "Give me a minute," he said before writing the last line and rolling the paper. Then he took your hand, and placed a kiss on it. "Do you want to seal it?"

"Can I really do it?"

"Of course you can, my love." Without letting go of your hand, he made you walk around the table and sat you on his lap. He broke a small piece of sealing wax that he placed in a spoon put above the flame of the oil lamp. While he waited for it to melt, he looked at you, locking his eyes on yours. But he didn't seem to notice that his hand had slipped touching the flame.

"Marcus, you're going to burn your hand," you said anxiously, grabbing his hand. But he was still looking at you, with those brown eyes. "I'm already burning," he said in a deep voice. "And your hair is my fire," His fingers ran through your hair. "Your love is driving me mad. I can't take my eyes off you."

You smiled and kissed him softly on the lips. He kissed you back passionately. He then poured the melting wax on the place where he had closed the letter, took your hand that was holding the seal and guided you to press the seal.

“Why Pegasus?” You asked.

He turned your hand so that you were both looking at the seal now. “It's because, he is primarily associated with bravery, success in battle, protection, duty, and commitment. He was also born from Medusa's blood.” He explained and kissed your palm, then your wrist, your arm, and your shoulder, which made you laugh. And then he kissed your lips, but the kiss was interrupted by a knock at the door.

That was Norell. She'd brought your breakfast to the room with a smile. You smiled back and had a quick chat then she left the room. After breakfast, you helped Marcus get dressed. As he did yesterday, he was going to wear his white tunic today. You placed the red shawl over his shoulders and fastened it with a big brooch pin at the collar. Then you left the room together and went downstairs. You saw Octavius and Decima chatting at the entrance to the courtyard. He wasn't wearing his armour today either. They both noticed you and nodded. Then he went to the stables to get the horses.

"Is Cato still in the Field of Mars?" you asked Marcus, as you both looked after Octavius.

Yes, he's with the other wounded soldiers. I've given them all the day off today. I might be back early this evening since there won't be any training."

"Are they going to be alright?"

"Hope so. We've got five medici there. I'm not sure if they're as good as you, though." He gave a little smile.

"I can come and check them if you need me."

His expression suddenly changed. "You want me to take you among hundreds of men? Not a chance." His voice was firm.

You rolled your eyes. He took your hand, and his expression softened as he looked into your eyes. "You're my medicus, so you can only heal me."

"But that seems a little selfish, General."

"I'm a bit selfish when it comes to you," he said with a little smile.

You gave him a smile in return.

Then you heard a horse neigh, and you both looked in that direction. Marcus's face lit up when Octavius brought Dromos over to him. Marcus stepped towards him and Dromos reared up and let out a loud whinny.

"I missed you too, old friend," said Marcus, stroking his face. Then he got on his horse, grabbed the reins, looking at you. "My lady, I'm leaving now."

"Come back safe." You said, waving your hand.

He nodded with a smile and gave Dromos a nudge forward. Octavius mounted his horse too, and nodded to you before riding after him. As they rode away, their long red shawls fluttered gently in the wind, mixed with the dust from the roadway.

That afternoon, when you were sitting in the courtyard with Decima and Norell, you talked about all the things that had transpired. You also talked about what Caracalla did, how Flavius came close to killing you, and how Macrinus almost caused disaster in Rome. They also told you about the days they spent as were detained and imprisoned. You felt a little down as you talked about those unfortunate days.

"Fortunately, your child is really strong," Decima said, putting her hand on your belly. You put your hand on hers and smiled at her.

"He's as strong as his father," Norell said, smiling.

You exhaled. "Oh, how I've missed talking to you, girls! I've really missed sitting together like this with you."

"We've missed you too," Decima said.

"We have been hoping and praying for your wellbeing and that of the child, as well as the general’s."

“Domina!”

You looked at the slave who was calling out to you and smiled. "I even missed you calling me out in this way," you said, laughing. The girls joined in with your laughter. But when you saw the slave's smile fade, yours did too.

"Is something wrong?"

"A carriage just arrived."

You raised your eyebrows. "Or is it my brother?"

The slave shook his head as no. You frowned and stood up.

And then two women you had never seen before entered the courtyard, one of whom appeared to be quite elderly, while the other seemed to be of a similar age to you. You could tell from their clothes that they weren't just ordinary people. Before you even had a chance to ask anything, they both looked at you with surprise and then the older woman came over to you with her arms outstretched and gave you a hug. Then the other woman gave you a hug too. Decima Norell and the other slaves in the courtyard were looking at you with curious eyes.

The older woman stepped back and looked you in the face. She was crying and sobbing, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Aurelia Marciana! You have grown into a beautiful young lady! I am so pleased to see you are alive! My sweet and lovely niece!" She touched your hair gently, her eyes brimming with tears.

You were taken aback. "You referred to me as your niece?" 

She nodded. "I am Antonia Marciana, your mother Paccia Marciana's sister."

"You... are... my aunt?" Your voice cracked. You didn't even know you had a relative on your mother's side – it was a complete surprise.

"I am, my dear. This is my daughter Paulina here, your cousin," the woman next to her took your hand and you smiled at her. "As soon as we heard that you were alive, we set off for Rome, but unfortunately, we learned that our relatives including your father's, had been killed by your half-brother, so we decided to head back. Fortunately, that tyrant is dead so we were able to come here to meet you."

You wiped away your tears and invited them to have a seat. "I imagine you've had quite a journey. I'll get them to prepare you some food." You said, and looked at Decima and Norell who nodded and made their way to the kitchen.

"It was a long journey indeed. My feet are a bit worn out from carrying my old body," Antonia said as she sat down on the lectus with her daughter's help. "You really look just like her, your mother. My poor sister left us before she had enough of you. She loved you so much. You were everything to her."

As she talked about your mother, you started to cry again, your heart ached.

“Even it was not enough, we thought we had lost you. All of your relatives, myself included, grieved for many years thanks to your father. But thank the Gods you are alive now. Is it true you've been in Egypt all this time?" She held out her hand to you, beckoning you to come over.

You sat down next to her and cleared your throat before answering. "Yes, I lived there without even knowing who I was."

"Septimus, that cruel man. I'll never forgive him for sending you away like that. I think it was all down to his new wife and his spoilt sons. After your mother passed away, I wanted to take you with me to Leptis Magna, but your father wouldn't let me." She took your hand in hers.  "But somehow you ended up back in Rome. I'm relieved that those brothers of yours didn't do anything to you. We were surprised to learn that you were here and not in the palace, and we were even more surprised and worried when we heard that you were wed. We would have loved to make it to the wedding, but it seems it all rather quickly." She said as if she was asking you.

You gave a little smile. "It all happened pretty quickly yes, but it's great that you're here now. I'm really pleased to meet you."

They smiled back in return. The slaves brought the food to the table and left. Your aunt leaned in, and held your hand.

"Aurelia, dear, I was a bit concerned when I heard you'd wed a soldier, a Roman General." She spoke in a low voice, almost as if she were whispering. “Or did those evil twins force you to wed him? What was his name again?"

"General Acacius," you said at once. "But no, not them. I wanted to wed the general of my own free will.”

Your aunt pursed her lips. "I mean, you're a princess after all. Besides, I heard that he's a bit old for you."

"Mother, please," Paulina said with a little whine.

She ignored her. "Is he kind to you? I'd love to know if he's a good husband. Does he fulfill all your needs?"

Your cheeks flushed. "Um, yes, aunt Antonia. He's a kind person and a great husband. I am beyond happy with him. Besides, age is just a number, isn't it?"

"Oh, your eyes just light up when you talk about him. Right, Paulina?"

"Indeed mother. I get the impression that she is very much in love with her husband." She said with a warm smile.

You smiled back, blushing again.

"I'm so delighted to see you happy, my dear." She said sincerely. "Now, I'm relieved."

While you were answering their questions about your marriage, they ate their meal. You were somewhat taken aback at how swiftly you became accustomed to them, but it was truly a pleasure getting to know someone who was your relative, particularly your mother's sister. Apparently, they'd returned to Rome after living in Leptis Magna for many years, and they mentioned that Paulina's husband was planning to stand for election as a member of the senate in the new reign, which would mean that you would see them more often. 

Three months later…

The last few months have been pretty busy for everyone. Geta's decision to raise the pay of the legions has led to a significant increase in the number of people applying to join. Marcus was shuttled from the Field of Mars to the barracks. All in all, when he returned in the evening, he was tired, but he still couldn't resist burying himself between your thighs and breasts. Your belly bump is certainly bigger, since the due date is just around the corner in two or three months. Your appetite had recently increased, and Marcus was certain it was because the child you were carrying was going to be strong. Your aunt and cousin Paulina were now living in the villa since her husband had become a member of the Senate. You and Marcus went to visit them once, and they got on well. But now it is difficult and tiring for you to travel so much. Marcus didn't want you to go anywhere unless you had to. Everyone at the villa was more attentive to you than ever before, trying their best to fulfill your every wish. Once a week, a midwife, selected with great care by your aunt, would come to check on you. She said that you were doing well, that the child was healthy, and that everything appeared to be fine.

Towards the end of that month, however, circumstances forced the first prolonged separation from Marcus. The army that Macrinus had secretly deployed and left behind in the vicinity of Syria had overstepped its bounds when it received the latest news and decided to cooperate with the Sasanian dynasty in attacking Roman troops in the south. When the southern legions reported this to Marcus, he thought it best to go there and repel them. With the approval of the Senate and Geta, the date of departure was set.

That evening, it seemed like sadness had taken over the villa. After dinner with Marcus, he helped you sit on the edge of the bed. The baby started kicking, as it always did after dinner. He was kneeling beside you, trying to feel the baby's kicks with his hand above your belly.

"He's a fighter," he murmured with a smile. "Don't give your mother any difficulty while I'm away, would you?" He rubbed your belly.

"What if you don't make it to the birth?" you asked, pursing your lips.

He looked up at you and kissed you on the belly before sitting down next to you. He took your hands in his.

"It's still two months away. I think I'll be back by then. Even if I don't, I'm certain you'll manage, my love."

"Could you perhaps consider not going? I believe there may be someone else who could serve as general and potentially prevail against them. Am I mistaken?"

He touched your cheek. "There is no qualified commander who knows this region as thoroughly as I do yet there is no time to choose someone to do anyway. It has to be me, my love. The soldiers in my legion in the south are like brothers to me. How can I sit here while they are out there fighting with everything they have?”

You bowed your head and couldn't stop your tears, which dripped down your cheek and into his hand. He wiped your tears away with his thumbs and gave you a kiss on the temple. "I promise you, my princess, I will be back to you safe and sound. Besides, they say, separation makes love grow and strengthen."

You felt your heartache as you looked at his face. "My heart is always longing for you, even if you're just a short distance away."

He smiled. "No matter how far I go, I'm always with you, do not forget that."

You placed his hand on your chest. "My only consolation will be the dream of you touching me again. So touch me in such a way that it would be the only thing that will keep me strong in your absence.”

Without a moment's hesitation, he pressed his lips to yours, and a complex emotion, a blend of passion and sadness, swept over your entire body. You tilted your head back ever so slightly to catch your breath, and his lips traced a path to your neck while your fingers ran possessively through his grey curls. Your heart was racing as he quickly undressed you and then himself. Still sitting on the end of the bed, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you onto his lap. Given the size of your belly, this position seemed more appropriate.  He kissed your breasts, and you bent your knees and sat on his lap with his hands on your hips. He kissed you again and entered you needily, which made you both let out a moan of pleasure. You put your arms around his neck, your breasts brushing against his chest. He supported your back with one hand and started thrusting deeply into you, lifting you on his lap and thrusting again and again. Every touch, every kiss felt like it was the last time and full of love. Your hot breaths, loud moans, love, and sorrow filled the room, creating a memory worth remembering as your bodies merged perfectly.

The morning was overcast as if the sadness in you had turned into dark clouds and covered the whole sky. As you helped Marcus put on his armour, you tried to hold back your tears, to be strong, but you were about to fail. However, you didn't want him to remember you as sad, so you did your best to suppress your feelings and try to smile as much as possible. He kissed you one last time before leaving the room. There was so much in that kiss, passion, love, sorrow and a vow to return. Everyone in the villa seemed a bit down as they followed you outside. Marcus looked at you one last time before mounting his horse. He was wearing his long red shawl over his armour and his galea (helmet) in his hand. Instinctively you moved closer to him. He rubbed your belly, then took your hand and kissed it with his eyes closed. Then he opens his eyes and looks into yours.

"I promise you, my lady, I will return in triumph."

You nodded. "May the Gods watch over you and bring each soldier home safely. Rome victrix."

"Rome victrix." He repeated and then mounted his horse.

Your eyes filled with tears that you had been holding back. You watched them until they disappeared from sight with Octavius, and finally, all the feelings you had been suppressing started to come out. Decima embraced you as you sobbed. You stood there together for a while, and all the slaves gathered around to calm you down. The sky rumbled with thunder and soon it began to rain as if to accompany your crying.

One month later…

The days were tough, but you got through them somehow.  During that time, you sent Marcus lots of letters. But you had to keep them short since they were travelling by pigeon. You had mentioned the cool, rainy days in your letters. You had said the midwife was coming in once or twice a week and that the baby was doing well, that it was getting big enough to keep you awake at night.

In his last letter Marcus wrote that the army had managed to repel the initial assault, but the situation remained fluid and the prospect of conflict was now a distinct possibility. He did not write to you as frequently as you did, but you could imagine how busy he was, so you waited patiently. That evening you wrote him another letter, not knowing if it would reach him. It was the only way to stay strong, to hold on. It made you feel like you were talking to him.

“My husband, my love, my brave general, owner of my heart. Every minute, every hour, every day, every breath I take without you is like torture. My only consolation is our child growing inside me. The midwife says it's now less than a month before the birth, and our son must be looking forward to coming, but I try to calm him down by telling him to wait for his father. I hope you will return to us soon, my love. In your absence, things are different. I can't taste the food I eat or smell the flowers I smell the same way I used to. Everything feels incomplete without you. I miss you so much. I am praying that you will come back to me safely. Your Aurelia.”

The next day, after breakfast, you decided to go downstairs and visit Unio in the stables. You were looking forward to riding on her back again. You thought of Marcus as you stroked her silky pearl-white mane. You thought of him all the time anyway, and everything reminded you of him. You felt a bit down, and Unio nudged you with his nose and whinnied as if he wanted to cheer you up.

“Domina!”

You looked over at the voice calling you, and one of the slaves came running over. Decima was right behind him, looking worried.

“My lady, Emperor Geta.”

“Not again, please.”

Over the past few weeks, you've been feeling resentful towards your brother Geta, turning down all of his requests. Every week he sent you a letter to read and a carriage to take you to him, but you never wanted to meet up with him. You had a good reason for that, though. But today was different. You were surprised to see a lectica (palanquin) outside the door, which was usually used for short distances.

One of the guards approached you and nodded. "Princess, Emperor Geta is awaiting you. He said you would be more comfortable if we took you to him this way."

It was actually more comfortable than the carriage. There wasn't much risk of shaking, but the distance between Palatine Hill and the villa was quite a long way.

"But this way you'll be pretty tired," you said, looking at the slaves.

"They're used to carrying people who weigh more than you over longer distances," the guard explained.

"It's an honour to carry our princess," said one of them.

They all looked at you with a reassuring gaze.

"Emperor Geta has entrusted you to us, please let us carry you."

You agreed to put an end to this nonsense that happens every week.

Decima came to you, "I will accompany you."

"I can't let you walk all that way." You protested.

"Please, my lady. I cannot send you there alone."

"She's right, my lady. Let her come with you." Tullia approached you. "At least it will give me some relief."

You sighed. "Very well," you said and sat on the lectica with Decima's help. The slaves slowly lifted you up.

"Be careful with our princess!" Tullia gave them a firm warning. It was a strange feeling, being carried all that way on the shoulders of slaves. You couldn't help but feel a little uneasy, but they didn't seem to be having any difficulty.

Upon your arrival at Palatine Hill at noon, you were pleased to find the travel to be quite comfortable. The slaves were looking well and showed no signs of fatigue. They lowered you carefully and gave you a hand getting out. You thanked them and walked towards Domus Severiana, accompanied by Decima and the guards. You suddenly realised how much you'd missed the place. After all, you and Marcus had many memories here too. You smiled to yourself, no matter where you went, it felt like his memories were right there with you, following you like a shadow. You first visit the tomb with Decima, to pay your respects to your father before heading to the great hall. Once you were back in the courtyard, you asked Decima to find out where Geta was. After all, he summoned you, but he wasn't there which you found a bit strange.

You turned your head when you heard footsteps approaching behind you, but it wasn't him.

"Gods! Who is this lovely lady?”

He was a young man who looked older than Geta, perhaps around your age, someone you had never seen before. He approached you with an unnecessary grin on his face. "May I know who you are beautiful lady?"

You frowned, turning your head away.

“Sister!”

You turned and saw that Geta was coming towards you from behind the other man.

"You are the famous Princess Aurelia? You're much prettier than they say."

Geta gave him a dirty look, "I find it pretty gross that you were so desperate that you would hit on a woman with a child." He chastised him. He reached out to embrace you, but your stomach was in the way. "Oh my, it's getting quite big!"

The man laughed. "Aah, apologize, my lady. I was distracted by your beauty and didn't notice your big belly.”

You rolled your eyes. "Why did you summon me?" You asked Geta.

"Come inside with me," he said, wrapping an arm around you, and narrowing his eyes at the other man.

He watched you two walk away, pursing his lips.

When you stepped into the great hall, Geta sat you down in a chair. He then sat opposite you.

"I'm sorry I summoned you here, but I didn't have a chance to leave the palace. Besides, you refused to come and you didn't write me back, what could I do? You left me helpless, I missed you so much."

He was going to hug you again, but you drew back. His eyes widened in surprise. "Or are you angry with me?”

You sighed, couldn't hold it in any longer. "Of course I'm angry with you! How could I not be? My husband went to war to fight for you, for Rome. He had to leave his wife behind. However, the Emperor of Rome chose to stay here in his palace instead of being with his army!" You suddenly began to cry, unable to stop sobbing.

Geta stood up and approached you, putting one hand on your shoulder.

"Forgive me, sister. I wanted to go with them, but you know the reason."

"What reason?”

He frowned. "Haven't you read the letters I sent you? How rude of you sister. You broke my heart." He approached the table and poured himself a glass of wine from the decanter. "That bastard you just saw at back the courtyard, my cousin, he arrived in Rome months ago. Apparently, my mother made him a promise when she saved the Senate from Macrinus. But his target isn't the Senate, it's something bigger."

Suddenly you felt guilty, he had obviously fallen on hard times as well.

"It'll never end, will it? Someone will always want to ascend the throne." You mumbled.

"Yes, I suppose so."

"You're not angry with me for shouting at you, are you?"

He smiled. "I deserve it," he said, taking a sip of his wine. "I'm glad you came, I really needed to see you. And..." he said, putting the glass on the table and coming closer to you, taking your hands and looking into your eyes. "As for the other reason that I called you..." He smirked. "I've got some news that will make you happy."

You raised your eyebrows. "What is it?”

"I have been informed two days ago that our ships carrying the army have set sail from Alexandria."

Suddenly your heart began to beat rapidly with excitement, your throat felt dry.

"It is thought that they should arrive in Ostia in a few days. General Acacius, your husband, is returning home in triumph."

"Thank the Gods! You don't know how happy you made me, brother!" You hugged him, eyes filled with tears.

"It's nice to see you smiling again." He murmured, rubbing your back.

You began to cry again, which has become something of a habit for you recently.

"Please stop crying. He's coming back. I promise I won't send him to war again.”

Suddenly you felt a spasm in your womb and you gasped.

"Sister! Are you alright? Gods forbid, but I hope you're not in labor, are you?"

"No, there's still time. It's just a little contraction," you said through clenched teeth.

"Are you certain?" He asked anxiously.

You nodded. "I want to return home now. I'd better not move a muscle until Acacius returns. I don't want to give birth while he's away."

"You're right. Thank you for coming," he kissed you on the cheek. "Just seeing you for a little while is enough for me.”

He helped you to your feet. You looked at him. "Make sure you keep your promises to our people, brother. You must be able to rule alone. Be strong and wise, like our father."

"I promise I will. Thank you, Aurelia, for believing in me more than my mother did. She only gives lectures and tells me not to trust anyone."

"You don't need anyone's wisdom. You're a Roman Emperor, remember that, stand tall."

He nodded and smiled. Suddenly, you felt the baby kick and smiled, then took Geta's hand and placed it over your belly. He laughed as he felt the kick.

"Oh, gods! Looks like my nephew is going to be a quiet fighter, just like his father. Is the midwife sure it's a boy?"

"Yes, she said she is certain." You said a little hesitantly.

"Then you are carrying little Acacius! Rome surely needs him!”

You smiled. "I hope he will be just like his father."

He smiled back and then walked you out, making jokes about your big belly on the way. Getting slaps on the back from you in return.

The day of return.

Three days had passed since your last meeting with Geta, and there was still no word from Marcus or the Roman army. You were concerned because he hadn't replied to your last letters, but you took some solace in what Geta had said. Cato, who was waiting in the harbor of Ostia, was sending you the latest news every evening with a soldier. But the news you were waiting for never came, and each passing day was becoming more and more unbearable. However, today, unlike other days, that soldier arrived while you were resting in the courtyard after breakfast. He came by early today because he had the news you were waiting for. The good news you'd been hoping for and praying for.

"I've got some good news for you, my lady. We have a sighting of our army's ships off the coast of Ostia!"

You smile and place your hand on your chest, just above your heart, which begins to beat faster.

"Praise the gods!" cried Tullia, raising her arms in the air.  Everyone in the villa smiled at each other and looked at you with a warm, relieved expression. You were just so overwhelmed that you didn't know what to say. Decima and Norell gave you a hug, sharing your happiness as you shed a few tears. You quickly told them to get the bath ready and prepare the food. Your heart was racing with excitement, and you could feel your whole body trembling. He was returning, your husband, your love, your happiness, your general, back to you.

As the sun's rays filtered through the clouds and illuminated the blue waters of the sea, the ships of the Roman army coyly approached the harbour. Marcus exhaled deeply as his gaze traversed the outlines of the city skyline. He was grateful to be able to return to his city and homeland in triumph. Previously, upon returning home, his thoughts had been solely focused on relaxing at his villa and then heading to the barracks or the Field of Mars, the only place he would be occupied again. But now he had you in his life, he had something to come back for, something to give up all his duties for. A month without you felt like a year to him, he was tired and full of longing.

He reached for his armour and picked up the papers he'd tucked under it. All the letters you had written to him. As he brought them to his lips and kissed them, he couldn't help but smile. He was really looking forward to seeing you and having you in his arms again. Once the ship was approaching in the harbour, Octavius brought his red shawl and helped him put it on. They exchanged a proud smile and went down on deck together as the ship made its way to the dock. Marcus tapped all his soldiers on the shoulder as they all saluted him. They were all tired, proud and cheerful. The ship maneuvered to port on the port tack and came alongside with a slight bump, the waves crashing into the harbour causing the waves to splash the people waiting on the shore. The gangway was brought for the soldiers who were ready to get off the ship. The people on the shore cheered, and the soldiers on board saluted as Marcus stepped from the ship onto the shore. After him, other soldiers disembarked, and a festive atmosphere prevailed on the shore. Cato came running to them and saluted Marcus, who touched his shoulder in return.

"Aurelia? Tell me, is she alright?" He asked excitedly.

Cato smiled. "Yes, sir. Lady Aurelia and the others are all waiting for you."

Marcus let out a sigh of relief, but now feeling more excited, he turned to Octavius. "Are you coming with me?"

"Yes, sir." He replied with a shy smile.

"My lady, why don't you take a seat?"

You ignored Tullia's concern, shaking your head as 'no'. “I'll wait here until he arrives," you said firmly.

You were all waiting outside the villa, just off the dirt road. You were feeling a little nervous and your heart was beating a little faster, making it a little difficult to catch your breath. You were getting tired, but you decided to wait there for a little longer. Everyone had their eyes locked on the end of the road, excitedly waiting for their Dominus to arrive. Decima came to you and took your hand and put one hand on your back, sharing your exhilaration.

And then, you heard some horses' hooves pounding on the ground, followed by a few loud neighs. You kept your eyes fixed on the road ahead, waiting impatiently. Your hands were shaking, your palms were sweating, and your heart was beating faster than ever. Decima gave you a rub on the shoulder. And Marcus came into view, urging his horse on to go faster, his voice bouncing off the road. You took a step forward and almost forgot about your big belly, wanting to run towards him. Marcus reared his horse, looking at you, and then jumped off and ran towards you. The slaves murmured to each other in joy. You gave Decima's hand a gentle push to walked towards him. She said something in concern, but you ignored her. All you could think about was Marcus who came over to you with a big smile on his face. He took your hands first, then looked at your belly in amazement and took you in his arms. He turned you around a few times in joy, making you giggle. Then he set you down and gave you a tight but careful hug, grabbing your neck pulling your head closer, burying his face in your hair, breathing you in.

"Thank the gods! You have returned to me, my love." Tears filled your eyes.

He looked into your eyes, and you could see his longing there, burning bright. "As I promised, I have returned to you, my lady, in triumph."

You embraced him tightly, running your fingers through his grey hair as the tears rolled down your cheeks. You inhaled his scent, kissed his neck, and let out a few sobs that echoed off the outer walls of the villa.

Marcus gently wiped away your tears with his fingers and placed his arm around you.

"Welcome home, general!" the slaves saluted him.

"Thank the gods you have returned safely," Tullia said cherfully.

"Thank you Tullia," Marcus said, then noticed Decima standing timidly. He turned around and looked at Octavius and made a sign to him. Then they embraced each other as you walked into the courtyard. You tilted your head to look at them, Marcus leaning down and kissing the top of your head, pulling you closer to him.

"My love, you've become even more beautiful since I last saw you," Marcus said, his fingers brushing through your hair.

You two were in the Balneum, you were seated on his lap in the water, your head resting on his shoulder.

"I'm not sure if I really look beautiful. I have some body flaws." You giggled, pointing to your belly.

You felt his lips beneath your earlobe. "I'm in love with every part of you that you think is a flaw. Besides, you're beautiful in every way. It's simply not possible otherwise." He put his hand on your belly, smiled when he felt a kick. "See? Our child agrees."

You smiled, then lifted your head to look at his face. "I've noticed that when you talk about him, you always say 'our child', not 'our son'. Do you think it's going to be a girl?"

"It doesn't matter if it's a boy or a girl since it's our child, the fruit of our love." He kissed your temple.

"Wouldn't you prefer it to be a boy? From what I've seen, Roman men care more about that."

"Nonsense. If you ask me, I would prefer a girl with your hair, your eyes, your beauty." His lips brushed against your cheek.

"Really? The midwife says it's a boy. And in my experience as a medicus, I find that to be true.”

“Aurelia, please don't worry about that. I promise you, nothing else matters more than ensuring our child is born healthy.”

You looked at him admiringly and sighed. "I've missed you so much. Your voice, the way you always comforted me." You then frowned. "I'll speak to Geta and make sure he doesn't send you anywhere else. I was really worried about you. I was so close to having an early labor."

He laughed. ‘'I'm glad I returned in time. I was afraid that if I didn't make it."

Then he sighed deeply. "I missed you too. Without you, It's like nothing tastes the same, not even the food I eat or the wine I drink. It was as if even the sun wasn't as bright as it usually is. Even when I was fighting enemy soldiers, all I could think about was returning to you. I felt no other emotion and had no other purpose. You looked at him and he looked at you. No matter how far away we were, I felt you with me every time I closed my eyes. He pressed his palm on your chest, right above your heart. Maybe it's because our souls are bound together. Our hearts are tied together.”

Your eyes locked on his lips, he realized what you wanted, and he leaned down and kissed you. The kiss was more restrained than ever, full of love, like a cry of longing. But your heavy breathing made him break the kiss.

"Are you alright, my love?"

You nodded, taking his hand on your thigh. "Marcus, please, I need you now more than ever."

He smirked. "It seems our bodies need to be as one as our souls."

He grabbed your hips and pulled you to him. With his need, already writhing to be inside you, he entered you impatiently.

Your belly prevented you from wrapping your arms around his neck, so you put your hands on his shoulders. "Gods!" you moaned in pleasure. You had missed feeling him inside you so much.

"Let me," He said and turned you around and pulled you back to him a little roughly, your back bumped against his chest. His hands, his arms, every part of his body was yearning to touch you, to possess you. He guided you to sit properly on his lap and entered you from behind. You found this position more comfortable. He gently gripped onto your hips and pushed you against his groin, splashes echoing off the damp walls of the balneum. His hands reached up to cup your breasts, kneading them possessively. With each thrust, each touch, you felt more and more breathless, and you were getting closer and closer to the edge. His lips were hot as they travelled along your neckline, soon to be replaced by his tongue and teeth. Your back arched and you pressed into his shoulder, giving him the opportunity to kiss you deeply.

"Marcus!" you gasped. You dug your fingers into his arms that were wrapped around you.

"I know my love, me too." He whispered in your ear and tightened his grip around you, thrusting as deep as he could. He picked up the pace at an incredible rate and you cried out his name over and over as you both reached your climaxes.

The intense pleasure you were experiencing suddenly gave way to pain. "Ow!" You groaned.

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling incredible pressure in your womb but still able to detect the remaining traces of pleasure.

"Aurelia?" He grabbed your hair with one hand to look at your face. "Are you alright? Did I hurt you?" His voice was full of concern.

You were in too much pain to speak. Or was it time? You suddenly felt afraid. "I'm not hurt. I'm just having contractions," you said through clenched teeth.

Marcus stood up and helped you to your feet. He poured a bucket of clean water over your shoulders and gave you a kiss on the head. "We should summon the midwife. Let me dry you off first."

You nodded and got out of the tub with his help.

The midwife came in a hurry, but by the time she arrived, you were no longer having contractions. She examined you anyway and said some things you didn't like.

"You're still some time away from labor, my lady," she said, and then she looked at Marcus. "Contractions are very normal at this stage, but it is wise not to trigger them too much as this can lead to an early birth. The earlier premature birth happens, the greater the health risks for your child."

You frowned, pursing your lips.

"I want you to move in here next week," Marcus said, looking at her. "Whatever you need will be provided. Inform the slaves of what you need for the birth, everything should be ready by now." He spoke in a firm tone as if giving orders to a soldier.

"As you wish sir. I will have everything ready. Please take care until then, my lady." She bowed her head and left the room.

"I think she's exaggerating a bit. I feel fine," you said, pursing your lips. Marcus sat down on the bed next to you and took your hand.

"Well, we'd better err on the side of caution anyway."

"Or will you not touch me again until the birth?"

He gave you a smile and stroked your cheek.

"You know I don't mean that."

He rolled his eyes. "Aurelia, you heard her too. She said it wouldn't be good for the child. We'll be patient. What's the big deal?"

You shrugged stubbornly, he laughed at your expression. Then he leaned in and whispered in your ear. "I promise you that after the birth, when you're ready, I'll make love to you until the morning. It will be so incredible that you'll forget your name in the morning."

You giggled and pulled him to you and kissed him passionately. But when the kiss got dangerously deep, he stopped you and pulled back. You frowned again. Marcus sighed and pinched your cheek. "You're going to have to be patient, princess.”

That week was more arduous than you anticipated. Your belly got bigger, it was harder to breathe and even sleeping peacefully became almost impossible. The baby was so active that it kept you awake at night. Marcus tried putting pillows between your legs and under your belly to help you sleep better, but it didn't seem to make much of a difference. It wasn't just because you were carrying a child, but also because you couldn't touch him the way you wanted to, even though there were only a few inches between you and Marcus in bed. This absence of physical contact was starting to bother you, but he didn't seem too concerned. Or maybe he was just hiding his feelings really well – you weren't sure. All he did was hold your hand, kiss the top of your head or place a soft kiss on your lips. You were craving for more yet you had to restrain yourself. You kept telling yourself to be patient, to wait a little longer.

Since he's tired of battle, Marcus was spending a little more time at the villa which you were happy about it. But for some reason he was suddenly leaving every afternoon and coming back quite late at night. When you asked him about it, he mentioned that there was an election between the legions, and he had to re-select his centurions and legates after the last war. But it was a bit strange that it was in the evening, maybe it was hard for him too, not being able to touch you, so it was good to be at work, who knows, so you didn't ask too many questions.

When Antonia, your aunt, invited you to a dinner banquet at her house one night, you weren't sure you wanted to go at first. But it was tough spending time at the villa without Marcus and it was very boring to just lie down all day anyway. That is why you decided to go.

The reason for the banquet was that Pauline's husband had now risen to a high position in the council, and they were expecting a child soon too. You thought it would be a good opportunity to meet the other senate wives, so you decided to go.

Marcus said you could go if your midwife would accompany you there as if she wasn't already following you like a shadow. You were hoping this banquet would be a nice change of pace since you hadn't been around people for a while.

Their villa was really grand, though not quite as big as yours. The courtyard was really lovely and spacious. The whole place was lit up with twinkling lights, specially lit for tonight. The soft, happy sounds of women's laughter floated out of the courtyard. As soon as you stepped inside, everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to look at you. It was just like your wedding day. You couldn't help but smile as you remembered it. You gave them a quick look as you walked over to your aunt. Some of the women looked a little jealous, some admired you, and others looked respectful.

"Oh, my beautiful niece Aurelia! You’re here!" She gave you a big hug and held your hands with joy. "Come dear, please have a seat,” she made you sit on a lectus filled with cushions, which you realised was a specially prepared place for you. Decima put a cushion just behind you to make you feel comfortable, you thanked her.

Paulina came over and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek. You congratulated her on her husband's success and on the little one she was expecting. The banquet carried on, with the women chatting and laughing, before they sat down to eat. They kept asking you lots of questions. As you might expect, the questions were all about the child and the birth. Julia was there too, along with two other women. You ignored their looks and carried on chatting with your aunt.

"How long until the birth, princess? Your belly looks so big now," a woman asked.

"My belly was smaller when I gave birth to my daughter." Said another one, they laughed.

"The midwife thinks it'll probably be next week," you replied.

"It's so close now. I hope the baby is born healthy, my lady."

You nodded your thanks.

"I'm sure everything will be fine," your aunt said, smiling at you.

It suddenly dawned on you that your aunt's reason for calling you there was not as innocent as it seemed. After all, you've had the chance to get to know her over the past few months. She was showing off to other women about the power of your status, but she didn't seem to be malicious.

"Oh, it's so tough being a woman, isn't it?” One of them said, with a sigh. "They tell us from a young age that we should marry a powerful man and bear him children. But what about men? It's all so easy and comfortable for them." The woman seemed a little drunk, but she made a fair point.

Antonia narrowed her eyes. "Maybe you're right, my dear, but my Paulina's husband, my son-in-law, is never one to sit still. He's worked hard for his position." Then she looked at you. "Neither is Aurelia's husband, General Acacius, he's a hero. Let's make a toss to him and the glorious Roman army once more!"

You smiled at her and lifted your glass with the juice in it.

"Of course he is," Julia replied, with a hint of sarcasm. You were curious as to why she had broken the silence she had kept all night. And you were pretty sure you wouldn't be pleased with what she had to say. 'But he's just like any other man. All men are basically the same."

Before you could ask her a question, someone else butted in and said something into her ear, then they laughed. You frowned.

"Come now! Are we here to talk about men, ladies?" Someone complained.

But you found yourself looking at the woman next to Julia, who was giving you some pretty suggestive glances, and you felt pretty uncomfortable.

"Lady Domna!" you called out loudly. You sat up, giving her a stern look. "There seemed to be an insinuation in your voice. I want to know why."

The woman next to her laughed. "Oh, poor thing, she has no idea."

"What are you talking about?" This behavior annoyed you. Your aunt grabbed your hand, Decima touched your shoulder.

"My niece asked you a question," your aunt said firmly, seemed like she didn't like them at all just like you did.

Julia smiled cruelly. "Aurelia, it could happen to any of us. I don't mean to disrespect his memory, but my husband Septimus, your father, turned to other women to fulfill his sexual needs when my belly was as big as yours."

"My husband did too," one of them complained.

You stood up. "What did you just say?"

Julia rolled her eyes and looked at you like she won a victory. "Whore house," she said. "Acacius, your husband, was there the other day. Horatia's husband visits there often, so she said that he saw him there, right Horatia?"

She nodded hesitantly.

You were stunned, and instinctively put your both hands over your mouth. Suddenly your whole body began to tremble with rage.

To be continued…

@orcasoul @pedroslut4eva @immyowndefender @lailathepedritofan @screechingchildfury @shinymusicpanda @somedayheaven @ivoryandflame @negrita2345 @music-lover09 @javiismyhsbnd @idontcareihavenoidea @jisungandpedrolover @mmkkzz @ro-nahime-things @indiegirlunited @kluvspedro @movievillainess721 @berriesarepunk @bonadeamo @heramj @blushingwueen @smoochispoof @littlemisspascal @kirashess @okaaaadereeee @this--is--music

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[aqours]

what really got to me in the trailer is how Homura looked so sinister, how genuinely happy she was to see Madoka happy without her being involved, and how. tired she was at the end.

the first real shot we get of her looking particularly triumphant, asking her opponent if they can shoulder what she now shoulders, immediately followed by a slideshow of Homura's trauma throughout the show and someone telling her (likely Sayaka as she refers to Madoka as "my best friend," or it could be Madoka herself addressing Homura, as she also calls Homura "her very best friend.") to release her as words float on the screen also making it clear how highly Homura thinks of Madoka.

"This world is for Madoka."

but she only looks. completely, genuinely happy the whole time in a way that isn't a look of triumph watching Madoka have fun. watching her genuinely enjoy herself in that gilded cage she created.

and by the end she looks so. tired. like she looks exhausted.

Homura is an evil demon. that's what she became when she committed an unforgivable sin: ripping off the wings of a goddess and dragging them down to earth.

and she did it all for one person and her happiness, even if its unwanted. she's happy when Madoka is happy in her cage, and wants to protect that cage at all costs: even her own happiness. she's clearly not happy with her own situation. being evil sucks. not being close to Madoka sucks. and the only way to ensure what she feels is Madoka's happiness is to be her enemy. it's so tragic, everything she does and ever will do is for Madoka's sake, no matter how twisted and warped it is. the only thing a child who was never allowed to grow up in 10+ years can think of.

the world is for Madoka. that's the crux of everything the devil called Homura Akemi does. it's for Madoka. it's absolutely not for her.

and it makes me. constantly think of that thing that Madoka's seiyuu once said in a Q&A:

no matter what happens, Homura is Homura, and Madoka will adore her, even if they're now enemies. this is the last thing in the world Madoka would want for her. Madoka would want to save Homura no matter the cost.

i think of Madoka fully realized what was happening, her greatest wish would be for Homura to just have the good night's sleep she clearly desperately needs.

"Falling in love with someone is wonderful, so don't call yourself the devil. I love you."

[slut4nicholas]

𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙊𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝙒𝙊𝙈𝘼𝙉 | 𝙉𝙄𝘾𝙃𝙊𝙇𝘼𝙎 𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙓𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙑𝙀𝙕

a/n: if you are not comfortable reading about things like this i highly recommend you to find another fic, remember this is all just fanfiction!! im not trying to make nicholas seem like a bad person at all! enjoy.

warnings: infidelity, alcohol, degrading, mentions of sex.

summary: in a whirlwind of passion and betrayal, nicholas finds himself entangled in a thrilling affair with his assistant, sparking an irresistible magnetism that pulls them together despite his commitment to another.

✮⋆˙

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗪𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡 𝗪𝗜𝗟𝗟 𝗔𝗟𝗪𝗔𝗬𝗦 𝗖𝗥𝗬 𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗘𝗟𝗙 𝗧𝗢 𝗦𝗟𝗘𝗘𝗣 | as i settled into the comfort of my couch to watch the dazzling red carpet event from home since i couldn’t make it, but nothing could dull the ache in my chest. my heart twisted painfully as i watched him, arm casually draped around her waist, throwing his head back in laughter, seemingly oblivious to the tempest of emotions churning within me. each smile he flashed felt like a cruel dagger, piercing deeper with every carefree moment shared between them. It was as if the universe relished in my pain, turning what should have been a relaxing evening into a bittersweet reminder of everything i wished i could have.

nick and i started dating four months ago, but i had been his assistant for a year before that. it began with him driving me home, flirtatious banter, and sweet compliments. then, one day, he asked me out to dinner i said yes, heart racing but cautious—i didn’t want to jeopardize our friendship or my job. but as always, my feelings muddled things. now, here I am, torn between love and the fear of losing what we had.

with every passing moment, i sat there, my eyes glued to the screen, unable to look away from the intimate glances between him and her. a storm of emotions surged within me—guilt gnawed at my insides, pain clawed at my heart, jealousy turned my thoughts into a tempest, and anger simmered just below the surface. i loved him fiercely, yet a bitter truth settled like a stone in my chest: he loved her in a way that seemed to eclipse the affection he had for me. no I told myself desperately, he must love me too!

but deep down, i understood; he cherished the way i surrendered to him, how i let him seize control, how my body yielded to his desires—making his fantasies come alive in every forbidden moment. yet, as i clung to these fractured memories, i couldn’t shake the feeling that in his heart, i was simply a fleeting thrill, while she was the one who captivated his soul.

as he walked up to receive the award for his latest film, the glimmer of the trophy seemed overshadowed by the unquenchable ache in my heart. she enveloped him in a vibrant embrace, her lips brushing against his with the kind of familiarity that gnawed at my insides, a cruel reminder that i was merely a spectator in a story where i had once imagined myself the lead.

yes, she was stunning, and jealousy twisted like a knife in my gut, but i knew deep down that no one could love him the way i did, kiss him with the same fervor, or understand his soul as intimately as i had. the urge to reach for my phone, to shatter the moment and reclaim the love i felt slipping away, loomed large, yet i fought it back with all my strength. i couldn’t bear the thought of ruining his triumph; the very thought of his disappointment was a weight too heavy to carry.

i respected him far too much to make that call, even if it meant watching the life we could have had slip further from my grasp, knowing he might never forgive me for the chaos my heart yearned to unleash.

with a sigh, i switched off the tv, realizing i couldn’t bear another second of them on my screen—it was slowly driving me mad. this was my day off, after all, a time meant for relaxation! i settled onto the couch, letting the tranquility wash over me, and before i knew it, i drifted off into a peaceful slumber, leaving the world of noise behind.

i was jolted awake by my phone buzzing like a swarm of bees—call after call, text after text. even before glancing at the screen, i knew it was him. a part of me was tempted to answer, to invite him over and dive into whatever chaos awaited us. but instead, i let it ring, savoring the sweetness of my decision to resist the pull of his familiar storm.

just a couple of minutes ticked by when suddenly, a thunderous knock echoed through my stillness, jolting me from my thoughts. my heart raced—why would he be pounding on my door at 3 a.m.? with a heavy sigh, i knew i had to let him in; letting him linger out there was not an option. as i shuffled toward the door, his voice cut through the silence, demanding my attention like a child throwing a tantrum. seriously, he could be so infuriating at times!

as i approached the door to my apartment, nicholas strolled in without so much as a greeting, acting as if he owned the place.

“you don’t see me calling you?”

“no” i lied

“you know you are not a very good liar” he softly scoffed obviously annoyed at me.

i roll my eyes, shutting the door with a sigh as i head back to the couch where I'd been languishing earlier. but before i can even sink into the cushions, nicholas suddenly grabs my wrist, spinning me around to face him with an intensity that catches me off guard.

“what’s wrong with you?” he questioned.

"nothing, nicholas," I reply, crossing my arms defiantly. my body language betrays my words—it's clear that something is bothering me tonight.

"go ahead and keep lying, but i know there's something off about you," he said, stepping closer, his breath reeking of nothing but liquor. in that moment, it became clear to me why he was here.

“nick, i can't believe how far we’ve taken this—did you really think i wasn’t watching i watched you two, locked in your little world, and it felt like you were flaunting it, trying to make me jealous or something. do you get some twisted thrill from taunting me like this? seriously, is this your idea of fun? because it's not just hurtful; it's downright cruel.”

“let’s not start this, i missed you and i just want to spend some time with you”

he took a step closer causing me to push him back a little further.

"absolutely not! i can't keep living like this—i didn't even know she existed until just last month! this whole situation is beyond insane. and remember, you promised me you would leave her! can’t you see how this is tearing me apart?"

with a thunderous sigh, he threw his head back, a storm brewing behind his eyes.

“y/n, I’ve told you a million times—i can’t just abandon her!” his voice echoed, laced with frustration that made my blood boil. “i don’t know what to do, but you know damn well im not trying to hurt you! i have real feelings for you. remember last week when you couldn't even walk straight”

his piercing gaze cut through me. “what’s different now?” my heart raced, a mix of fury and betrayal boiling within me. how could he be so selfish, so blind to my pain? each word was a dagger, and i wasn’t sure how much longer i could endure his twisted logic before i shattered entirely.

i couldn't help but scoff at his ignorant remarks, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "you're so stupid," i shot back, the words laced with a seething anger i could no longer hide. "i hate you," i added, feeling my heart pound with a mix of frustration and hurt, as every syllable dripped with the weight of my unspoken pain.

with a slurred chuckle, he pushed himself off the couch, swaying slightly as he steadied himself. “you know,” he began, his voice thick with the weight of whiskey-soaked truths, “girls only say they hate you to the guy they really love.” the words hung in the air, punctuated by the flickering of a dim lamp, as if each syllable carried the weight of unspoken confessions and heart-wrenching longing, inviting her to dive deeper into the tangled mess of emotions swirling between them.

my heart swelled as i walked toward him, my face softening with every step, and when he opened his arms, a flood of warmth washed over me. nicholas enveloped me in a tight embrace, his chin resting gently on the crown of my head, and in that moment, all the pain and love i felt for him crashed together.

i was undeniably in love, every flaw etched into my heart, even when he treated me poorly; he was still the one i yearned for. tears brimmed in my eyes, an unstoppable tide of emotion that revealed my heart’s true ache, and he sensed it instantly.

“It’s okay, baby,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against my turmoil. “everything will be okay.”

was everything really going to be okay?

✮⋆˙



[leclerc-hs]

save a bull! - cl16

pairing: bull rider!charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which a city girl meets a cowboy OR charles finds himself infatuated with the visiting city girl warnings: language, NOT PROOFREAD, no smut (maybe in part 2 if y'all want smut), bad writing (sorry lol) word count: ~4.4k author's note: HI. did you miss me? i sure as FUCK missed y'all. so I started writing this MONTHS ago but then took a very long break from this website and writing. it might be very shitty so i apologize for that. it was originally going to be just 1 part but I found myself writing so much that I think 2 parts will be better in the end. PLEASE REACH OUT TO ME WITH ANY FEEDBACK. sorry if this sucks. love you all.

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“Will you please just consider it!” Abigail pleads beside you on the sidewalk, weaving through the bustling crowd with an effortless grace. The sun casts dappled shadows on the pavement, and the scent of street food mingles with the crisp urban air.

The city feels particularly relentless as you trudge along the crowded sidewalk, your third cup of coffee from the corner deli clutched in one hand, its steam mingling with the bustling street air. Your shoulders droop under the weight of fatigue, a stark contrast to the frenetic energy of the city around you. Each step towards your office tower feels heavier, as though the concrete beneath your feet has turned to lead.

The tall buildings loom overhead, their steel and glass facades glinting under the midday sun, but their gleam only seems to amplify the oppressive weight of your exhaustion. The vibrant hum of the city—a symphony of honking taxis, chattering pedestrians, and distant sirens—becomes a monotonous drone.

Your dress, once crisp and sharp, now feels more like a burden, its fabric slightly rumpled from a day spent at your desk.

“I can’t take that much time off of work,” You say, your voice tinged with frustration but softened by a hint of regret. You’re caught in that all-too-familiar tug of war between professional obligations and personal desires. You finally get the chance to turn your head to look at Abigail as you reach a crosswalk, blinking not to cross. You see the disappointment flicker in your friend’s eyes.

“I get it,” Abigail says, her voice steady and tinged with understanding, “I know how demanding your job is. But that doesn’t mean you can’t work from home. Or take personal time. I know you have that option.”

You chuckle softly, admiring her persistence to some degree. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

“When is the last time you even took a personal day.”

The answer was never. But she didn’t need to know that.

“Will you stop begging me every second of every day if I say yes?” You ask, half in jest but with a trace of genuine curiosity.

“Obviously,” she replies, her smile widening as she sees the shift in your stance.

The pedestrian light turns green, and as you start to cross the street, you take a deep breath, blinking to steady your thoughts. “Fine.”

Abigail’s face lights up with a victorious grin, her eyes sparkling with triumph. “Really?”

“Yes.”

-

Nestled amidst rolling green hills and expansive grasslands, Abigail’s small family farm is a picturesque retreat. The scene unfolds like a charming pastoral painting, with vibrant hues of green and wheat fields stretching out as far as the eye can see, interspersed with splashes of color from blooming wildflowers.

At the heart of the farm stands a quaint, cozy house, its charm amplified by a wraparound porch adorned with potted flowers. The house itself is a delightful mix of rustic and charming, with its whitewashed clapboard siding, and a steeply pitched roof. 

Adjacent to the house, a well-tended vegetable garden thrives, it’s neat rows of tomatoes, lettuce, and peppers bordered by a low wooden fence. A couple of well-worn garden tools lean against a small shed nearby, evidence of the daily care given.

Further out, a classic red barn structure where a white trimmed roof sits atop. The sounds of clucking hens and the occasional bray of donkey create a lively atmosphere. Near the barn, sits a small paddock with a couple of playful horses, their sleek coats gleaming in the sunlight. 

The fresh air of the farm is almost a sensory overload compared to the city’s fumes. Unlike the city’s dense cocktail of exhaust fumes, asphalt, and various street food vendors, the farm air is pure.

As you sit at the kitchen table, the warmth of the farmhouse envelops you. The rustic charm of the kitchen, with its large wooden table and mismatched chairs, is filled with the sounds of cheerful conversation and shared laughter.

Abigail stands at the center of the room, animatedly catches her family up on the latest happenings in her city life. Her eyes sparkle with excitement, her gestures lively and expressive. The tales of the city hustle almost seem foreign in this serene setting. 

Danny and Luke, her two older brothers, sit across from you at the table. Danny, with his sandy blond hair and easy-going demeanor, leans back in his chair, his face lit up with a relaxed smile. He listens attentively, occasionally interjecting with teasing remarks or playful banter. His presence is warm and reassuring. His wife, Gianna, sits beside him with a small baby boy on her lap.

Luke, on the other hand, exudes a quiet strength. His dark hair is neatly tousled, and his gaze is both thoughtful and amused. His demeanor calm yet engaged.

“It’s so nice to finally meet the girl who makes our Abigail so happy in the city,” Abigail’s mother continues, her voice carrying a note of heartfelt sincerity. “She’s always spoken so highly of you.”

You feel a flush of warmth at the compliment, a mix of gratitude and slight nervousness at the attention all on you. 

“Thank you so much for having me,” You smile softly. “I don’t know what I would do without Abigail in my life.”

With a playful glint in Danny’s eye, he chimes in, “I do.”

The room erupts in a chorus of laughter, the sound ringing out with genuine warmth and affection.

You decided right there you may just like it here a lot more than you thought.

-

The silk dress that adorned your body was utterly unsuitable for the rugged rodeo environment, but you didn’t really care. The delicate fabric, with its soft sheen and flowing lines, clashed vividly with the dusty, rough-and-tumble atmosphere of the rodeo.

As you moved through the arena, the contrast became more pronounced. The silk, while beautiful, struggled against the elements—dust from the arena settling onto the fabric, and the occasional splash of beer threatening to leave their mark. The sight of your delicate dress among the crowd of rugged cowboys and cowgirls in their jeans, boots, and plaid shirts drew curious glances.

But you didn’t care. You liked your clothes, the luxurious feel of the silk against your skin, the way it draped with effortless grace. The expensive fabric was a statement of your personal taste, and you embraced it fully, regardless of the setting.

“You could’ve borrowed some jeans, you know?” Abigail chirps beside you, her jeans mostly ripped and worn matched well with her cowboy boots. 

You shrug your shoulders in a noncommittal way. “I’m going to head to the bathroom before this starts. Grab me a drink?” 

“Duh. See you at the seats?” Abigail laughs before sauntering off towards a beer vendor. 

You stand still for a moment, observing Abigail and her brothers joking around as they stroll across the lively rodeo grounds. You can’t help but smile at their playful banter, you didn’t have growing up.

As you watch, lost in the charm of the moment, a rough shoulder unexpectedly collides with yours. The sudden contact jolts you out of your reverie, and you turn to see a burly cowboy in worn jeans and a dusty plaid shirt. 

You swore he was one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen in your life until he opened his big fat mouth.

“You lost?” He laughs, his green eyes bright and mischievous as he adjusts the hat on his head.

“Excuse me?” You reply, a mix of confusion and irritation threading through your voice.

“The city is a long way from here,” He drawls, the smirk on his lips widening with a hint of amusement.

The combination of his cheeky grin , the twinkle in his eye, and the dismissive tone ignites a flicker of anger within you. It feels like a mix of condescension and teasing that sends a sharp heat coursing through your veins. You roll your eyes, unable to hide your annoyance.

“Thanks for the information, jackass,” You snap, shoving past him with a forceful nudge. You march away with purpose, the silk of your dress swishing around your legs with each determined step.

Unbeknownst to you, as you walk away, he can’t help but turn his head to watch the sway of your hips in the thin, delicate fabric. His gaze lingers for a moment longer than necessary, a mixture of surprise and lingering admiration in his eyes as he takes in your retreating figure.

A hand lands firmly on his shoulder, and a voice calls out, “C’mon Charles, you need to get changed.” The words cut through his moment of distraction.

With a slight jolt, he snaps back to reality and glances over, meeting the eyes of his friend who is already gesturing towards the changing area. Reluctantly, he shifts his focus and starts to follow, his gaze now shifting into a more focused, practical demeanor.

-

Finally settled into your seat, far too close to the metal fence for your liking, and smothered between Abigail and Luke, you feel yourself relax as Luke places a tall boy can of beer in your hand, the wet condensation soaking your hand. 

“Hope you can handle a beer,” Luke states, a smile on his lips. “It’s all they had left.”

You bring the can of beer to your lips slowly, savoring the crisp, cool sensation as you take a smooth sip. With a playful glint in your eye, you send a wink in Luke’s direction. “I promise I can handle a beer,” you say with a teasing smile.

Luke’s eyes crinkle at the corners with amusement, and he lets out a hearty chuckle. He lifts his own beer in a casual salute, the gesture accompanied by a nod of approval. As he takes a sip, the cool amber liquid reflecting the warm light of the evening, he meets your gaze with a grin that mirrors your playful confidence.

“So how does this work?” You ask, turning your full attention to Luke while Abigail and Danny are engrossed in their own conversation on the other side of you.

Luke raises an eyebrow in curiosity. “How does what work?” 

You gesture broadly with your hands, waving them in animated circles as you take in the bustling rodeo arena before you. “This,” you say, trying to encompass the entire scene with your sweeping motions.

As if gaining a sense of clarity, the corners of Luke’s lips tug upward. “Why don’t you just watch and find out? It’s about to start.”

You turn your head back to the dirt ring, feeling the adrenaline of the moment as you witness a big brown bull in the chute. Its snorts are visible through the gaps in the metal fences, each exhalation a cloud of steam in the crisp air.

A handsome cowboy, his broad shoulders accentuated by a fitted vest, mounts the bull with practiced ease. He glances up with a confident, almost cocky grin that makes your heart race even faster. Your gaze follows every move he makes, captivated by the way he balances on the bull’s massive back as the gate swings open.

The bull bursts into action, hooves flying and muscles rippling as it twists and bucks in an attempt to throw the rider off. The scene is a whirlwind of motion and raw power—an exhilarating display of skill and bravery. It’s almost surreal, the sheer intensity of the bull’s movements and the cowboy’s unflinching composure.

As the bull spins in tight circle, you glance over to the timer mounted on the fence. The seconds tick away, each moment bringing the eight-second mark closer. When the buzzer finally sounds, signaling the end of the ride, the cowboy springs off the bull with an effortless grace. He tosses a hand in the air, his expression nonchalant as if the wild ride was nothing more than a casual stroll.

The crowd erupts in cheers and applause, their excitement palpable as they all stand up with shouts.

You turn your head back towards Luke, one of the biggest smiles on your face as you meet his eyes in pure astonishment. 

“How about it?” Luke chimes in, taking yet another chug of his beer.

“This is insane!” You take another sip as well.

-

Charles lived for bull riding. It was more than just a passion—it was his livelihood. The cowboy lifestyle, with its raw, untamed essence, had shaped almost every aspect of his existence. 

To him, the bull was not just an animal but a formidable partner in a high-stakes dance of power and control. Two things Charles always loved to have. Every successful ride was a testament to his skill and courage, a dance with danger that left him both exhilarated and humbled. Like this ride. Right now.

He throws his hand in the air, the rush of pure adrenaline coursing through his veins. The feel of the dirt beneath his boots, the deafening roar of the crowd, and an impressive score of 91, was enough to send him shouting in joy. He let his eyes wander the crowd around him, taking it all in like he always loves to do. He livesfor the attention.

So, when he notices a familiar woman seated right before the metal fence, paying little to no attention to the dirt ring, he can’t help but feel just a little annoyed.

He also can’t help but feel more annoyed when he takes notice of that silk fabric again, immediately remembering when he bumped into your frame mere moments ago. Your cherry lips and silky-smooth hair flash into his mind. For a second, he almost forgets the fact that he’s standing in the middle of a dirt ring.

He can’t quite shake the memory of your demeanor and the way you seemed detached from the rodeo’s thrilling chaos. The way you could care less about who he was. It’s a curious juxtaposition against the fervor of the crowd and the adrenaline that still courses through him.

One thing about Charles was that he wanted attention, yes. But right now, he only wanted yours. With that unshakable desire in mind, he strides confidently toward where you’re seated. The metal fences between you both form a barrier, but that doesn’t deter him.

As he approaches, the crowd senses a shift in the energy and falls into an anticipatory hush. Their collective gaze shifts to you and Charles, creating a palpable focus on the interaction.

Charles, his presence commanding and confident, slips his hat through the gap in the metal fence, offering it to you with a smirk. The hat, wide brimmed and well worn, represents a piece of his world.

“To help you fit in better.” His tone a mix of challenge and amusement.

Without waiting for a response, he turns on his heel and finally saunters off, his gait relaxed yet purposeful. 

-

“What just happened?” Abigail smacks your arm, the one not jolding the hat, as you walk side by side. Her brothers loom behind you, their presence adding to the charged atmosphere of the moment. “Why did Charles fucking Leclerc just give you, his hat?”

You glance at the hat, a bemused expression on your face. “That guy is a total dick is what just happened.”

Abigail’s eyes widen, her excitement barely contained. “What do you mean!” She practically shouts, her voice a mix of disbelief and thrill. “He’s like famous here. Every girl probably hates you right now.”

“Why?” You ask, genuinely puzzled.

“Are you blind?” Abigail’s voice now full sheer joy. “The dude is practically sex on fucking legs. And he’s one of the best bull riders around!”

You look back at the hat again, it suddenly feels heavier in the grasp of your fingertips. “Charles Leclerc is a big deal around here. And he just gave you, his hat. That’s a huge deal.”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the slight flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. “Well, it doesn’t change the fact that he was a jackass earlier. But I guess it’s good to know he’s a big deal around here.”

Abigail bursts into laughter. “You really are something else.”

-

The narrow aisles of the tiny market, with their cramped and cluttered shelves, had you aimlessly strolling in circles. The items on your list—given to you by Abigail’s mom—seemed to elude your every turn. The overhead lights cast a harsh glare on the disorganized assortment of product, making it difficult to find what you needed. You stood there, your eyes narrowing in annoyance, at the crumpled list clutched in your hand.

“Need some help, sweetheart?”

The sound of the deep, velvety voice was enough to draw your attention away from the list. You turned to see Charles standing not even a few feet away, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned casually against a shelf. His eyes, green as ever, created a swirl of butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

Although you were known for your stubbornness, often digging your heels in even when it wasn’t your best interest, you had to admit you were out of your depth in the tiny market. There were no signs. No directory.

“Depends,” you reply, the hint of a playful challenge in your voice. Charles raises his eyebrows, a silent prompt for you to elaborate further.

“If you call me city girl even once,” you continue, your tone firm but light-hearted, “I’ll knock you right out.”

The challenge is met with a shit-eating grin, so wide on Charles’s face that it seems almost infectious. His cheeks stretch into an exuberant smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement. And it takes him one step, and one stretch of his arm, to snag that grocery list right out of your dainty fingertips.

-

“You’re cute when you’re real mad, y’know?” He drawls, placing the groceries into the bed of the pick-up truck you borrowed from Abigail’s family.

“I’m not mad.”

“You’re right.” He says, placing the final bag into the truck and leaning against the frame of it with an arm propped up. “You’re just cute.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Charles doesn’t miss the subtle flush the tints the apples of your cheeks with a delicate shade of red. The reaction stirs a flutter in his chest, almost like an addiction that he never wants to stop. 

You’re undeniably cute, with an effortlessly enchanting beauty that makes it difficult to look away. A magnetic pull that Charles just can’t shake. It’s almost as if he’s addicted to getting a reaction out of you. 

-

It’s been days of settling into the rhythm of farm life—enjoying family dinners filmed with hearty laughter and home-cooked meals, gathering around late-night fires that crackle and warm against the cool night air, and rolling up your sleeves to help with daily chores.

Even had a few more run-in's with the famous bull riding man himself. He was sweet, but you couldn't help but feel at complete unease around him. Not in a bad way, but in a my heart won't stop pounding against my rib cage kind of way.

Like when he covered you in his flannel at the latest bonfire, taming the rising goosebumps along your body.

"I don't need this, y'know?"

"Sweetheart, you're cold. Just wear the damn thing."

Or when you bumped into him at one of the farmer's markets and it took no hesitation for him to grab all of your purchases out from under your arm.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doin?"

"Stealing my stuff"

His laugh shot butterflies right into your stomach. "You're something else, sweetheart."

You make a point to be as involved as possible, driven by the genuine desire to contribute and make a sense of responsibility. 

“Should we hit up Rusty Spur’s tonight?” Abigail asks from beside you, her voice light and relaxed as she stands wrapped in a fluffy robe, freshly showered. She’s casually brushing her long, damp hair, the strands falling in soft waves around her shoulders.

“What’s Rusty Spur’s” you ask, leaning over the bathroom sink for a closer look as you apply your last coat of mascara, adding the finishing touch to your makeup.

“The bar,” she replies nonchalantly, her tone suggesting it’s a place she frequents often. “I think we need a night out.”

You glance at her through the mirror, a smile spreading across your face at the prospect of a night out. 

“Yes.”

-

Rusty Spur’s was the kind of country bar that instantly feels like home, even if you’ve never been there before.

As you step inside, the scent of aged wood, spilled beer, and a hint of smoky warmth greets you. The place is packed. 

The flimsy spaghetti straps of your short white dress dig into the skin of your shoulders, their delicate fabric offering little support. Despite its ethereal look, the dress feels unexpectedly snug against your skin. The soft white fabric sways with each step you take as you slip your body in between the crowds of people.

Abigail leads you to a cozy corner of the bar. Almost instantly, a bartender approaches, his familiarity with Abigail evident in the easy smile and warm greeting he offers.

You can’t help but notice just how easy on the eyes he is. He’s dressed, like almost every guy in this bar, in snug jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms. His casual yet confident demeanor, coupled with the slight scruff on his beard and his easygoing smile, makes him stand out in the dimly lit bar. 

Within the span of five minutes, a chilled, neck-bottled beer is placed gently into your hand. Taking in the view of the crowd, which is large but not overwhelmingly so, you scan the faces around you. As your gaze moves across the room, no one stands out as particularly familiar—until your eyes land on a table not too far away.

There, seated with a group of friends, is Charles. His presence is unmistakable. Even from a distance, he exudes a charismatic confidence, the kind that draws attention without even trying. He’s relaxed in his posture, laughing and engaging with his companions, the flannel from earlier now swapped for a casual shirt. 

“Wanna dance?” Abigail chimes in your ear, her beer already half gone in the span of a minute.

-

It was almost as if Charles could feel your presence without even seeing you. The dim light of the bar cast flickering shadows. He leaned back against the worn leather of his chair, his senses heightened.

You found yourself completely immersed in the music, your body moving almost involuntary as your shoes glide smoothly across the weathered wooden floor. You’re not exactly sure when it happened, but your body eventually became pressed up against a random guy you’ve only just met on the dance floor. His presence both surprising and pleasant. He’s cute—definitely cute. His hands are gentle on your waist, guiding you through the steps with a natural rhythm. 

He twirls you effortlessly around, guiding your movement with a deft touch that brings a burst of joy. As you complete the spin, you find yourself facing him once more, his eyes twinkling down at you.

With a playful flourish, he slips his cowboy hat onto your head. You can feel the subtle press of the brim against your forehead, much too big for your head. You tilt your head back and laugh, the sound a melodic blend of joy and unrestrained happiness woven into the music. 

In this embrace, everything seems to align perfectly—the rhythm of the music, the warmth of the body, and the whimsical charm of the cowboy hat resting lightly atop your head.

“Do you want t-” The words began to leave the man’s lips, but they were abruptly cut off as a firm muscled arm shoved him away from your embrace. The unexpected force sent him stumbling back, surprise flashing across his face and yours.

The man recovered his footing, confusion turning into indignation as he glared at the one who interrupted. Charles. Meanwhile, you stood your ground, heart racing, caught between the thrill of the moment and unexpected clash.

If looks could kill.

“Dude, what the fuck?”

Large fingers reach for the brim of the hat atop your head, snatching it right off before Charles shoves it back into the man’s chest. “Don’t ever put a hat on her head again.” 

His voice was rough and terse, cutting through the ambient noise like a blade. “Let’s go,” He says, not giving the man or you a chance to react. In an instant, his fingers snake around your wrist, pulling you away from the dance floor and into the shadows of a secluded table ticked into the corner of the bar.

The abrupt shift caught you off guard, and your heart raced as he led you through the sea of bodies. The air between you was thick with unspoken words as he tucks you between him and the edge of the table. His grip on your wrist loosens, but his proximity is too close.

“What the hell was that?” Your senses heightened as your eyes locked onto his. The usual light green of his irises, often warm and inviting, was now obscured by a much darker hue, swirling with intensity and something primal. 

His gaze was pointed, sharp, and unyielding. You sensed a storm brewing behind those darkened eyes, and the air around you crackled with anticipation. 

“He put his hat on you, sweetheart.” You scoff almost instantly, bubbling anger simmers in your chest as you let out a soft laugh over the situation.

“Really?” You throw your head back for a mere second as the laugh pushes past your throat. “You shoved him over a hat?”

His eyes remain narrowed, the amusement that might have danced there moments ago, no longer present. “Do you even know what that means?” He presses, his voice low and intense as he leans into your ear, the weight of his words hanging between you.

“What a hat means?” Confusion flickers across your features. The question so out of place, and yet the gravity of his tone suggests otherwise.

Before you can grasp the implications, you felt his fingers sneak their way to you, warmth and firmness splayed along your waist. The contact sent a jolt of awareness through you, igniting the tension the crackled in the air. It was a possessive gesture. 

His gaze never wavers, and the connection between you deepens.

“You wear that hat; you ride that cowboy.”

For a moment, you freeze. 

“And in no fucking world, would I let you wear anyone’s but mine.”

[ilions-end]

i finished statius' ACHILLEID. thoughts thoughts thoughts:

i knew going in it was a VERY short unfinished epic, but i didn't know it would be FUN?? if i ever get that time machine, FIRST THING i go back and find one publius papinius statius, i lock him in a room, and i'm NOT letting him out until he's finished the achilleid!

achilles is statius' BLORBO in a way neither homer, quintus nor virgil have blorbos. statius likes achilles to be strong and pretty and graceful, but most of all ENDEARING even when he fails. and he fails a lot, because this is him still figuring out how to be an adult, not to mention a prophesied legend literally everyone is waiting for to step up

the one thing that gets tiring is just how many prophecies permeate the achilleid. nothing's left to chance, there are so few unknowns. even ODYSSEUS was aware that from peleus' wedding there would come a child destined to be a central warrior in an upcoming gigantic war.

as it stands, the achilleid is more of a... thetisiad? she is very centered in the narrative (we spend more time looking at things from her point of view than achilles') and there is SO MUCH SYMPATHY for her, oh my gosh!! she loves ONE person, her son, the only worthwhile thing she got out of a traumatizing marriage, and she despairs that he's fated to die young in a silly human war.

also i'm a deidamia defender forever now. so three-dimensional, so clever!

aughhh i love how much characterization statius puts in, even in the small scenes! my favourite example is odysseus and diomedes as they walk up to lycomedes' place (literally just moving characters from A to B). diomedes teases odysseus, and odysseus is delighted to be teased. that night we're told odysseus CAN'T SLEEP because he's too excited about showing off his plan the next morning!

the unveiling of achilles is completely different from the chagrined defeat/"achilles is a fucking idiot" ways i've heard it retold! i love that it's collaborative, it's a mutual triumph. it's just as much achilles (who's been suffering in gender dysphoria hell for a year) longing to be exposed as it is odysseus LIVING for showing everyone (especially diomedes?) how clever he is. it's not just the shield and the spear and the bugle, it's odysseus playing the part of the siren, whispering in achilles' ear that he knows who he is and describing how glorious he will be on the trojan battlefield. it's achilles' grateful relief at being ALLOWED not to pretend anymore as he rips off his own dress even before the bugle calls

also it's very important to me that the moment he's no longer hunching over trying to make himself look small and inoffensive, we're told achilles is taller than both odysseus and diomedes

i KEEP IMAGINING how good statius would have made the rest!! especially because as book ii ends, achilles regards odysseus as a cool uncle; he's the guy who rescued him! i want to think statius would have put in the big mystery quarrel achilles and odysseus are said to have had early in the war, something to drastically change that affection. i want to know how statius would have handled troilus, and the gods. augh statius you roman BLUEBALLER

an assortment of story beats still revolving in my head:

chiron is such a sweetheart!! he's SO gallant with thetis, he's so affectionate with achilles. he HIDES HIS TEARS when achilles leaves, awww

statius writes out phoinix completely. as a phoinix stan i object. sure chiron can raise young achilles, but i NEED phoinix to tend to him as a baby

i enjoy how achilles EXPLODES into a mess of teenagerly hormones when he first sees deidaima. it's so funny that thetis is looking on (and we get my favourite simile of the achilleid, of a herdsman delighting in a young bull snorting and foaming at a beautiful heifer) like "aaaaand there's my son's sexual awakening. i see! well, we can use that" and THAT explains why achilles is so willing to commit to the female disguise

(listen. listen. few things mean more to me than the love between achilles and patroclus. but achilles is a teenage boy at the age when a fucking breeze will give him a boner, and deidamia is the most beautiful and the cleverest of her sisters. i really enjoy a story where achilles and deidamia are neither "fated eternal true love" or one's a sneaky opportunist. it's much more compelling that they're both knots of budding emotions and bodily feedback)

i notice that statius never uses the name pyrrha, he doesn't seem to have a fake name at all, just "achilles' sister"

lycomedes is SO honoured and proud that thetis is entrusting her daughter to him. i feel sorry for lycomedes, he seems so earnest and hasn't done anything to get tricked

the one thing i can't forgive statius for is that after spending SO much time establishing that achilles and deidamia (who knows he's a guy) are genuinely into each other, it feels like statius goes OUT OF HIS WAY assuring us that their first sexual encounter is rape. sure they talk right after, deidamia forgives him, AND i understand there are social rules that makes deidamia more "honourable" and "worthy" when she resists, but like. sigh.

aLONG with the previously mentioned interplay between odysseus and diomedes as they walk up to lycomedes' court, there's a simile where they're both starving wolves on the hunt. so sexy it's almost illegal

the feast scene is SO FUNNY omg. all of achilles' careful feminine training dissolving because odysseus and diomedes are there with their boundless masculinity for him to feed off of. deidamia practically WRESTLING achilles back down on the couch every time he forgets himself and behaves too much like a man. odysseus chatting with lycomedes SPECIFICALLY trying to rile up achilles, and then after the women have left (achilles dragging his feet and looking back, YEARNING for their male company) odysseus specifically praises the maiden's "almost masculine" beauty (because ohh he suspects. he just needs to prove it in the morning. he can't SLEEP for it)

when they depart, achilles earnestly swears to deidamia that no other women shall ever bear his children. i find it interesting as a reminder of the social rules of its era. neither of them expect achilles to be sexually exclusive, just not fathering potential heirs. which again makes me wonder about the contraceptives in ancient greece

on the ship towards aulis, diomedes begs achilles to tell them all about his feats and training with chiron, and achilles is so shy about it! who can blame him! diomedes has a WAY more impressive track record

odysseus is SO good at firing up achilles' outrage at paris even as he's just catching him up on what the war's about. and he's so pleased at how easily achilles' outrage can be directed! you KNOW that would have developed in such an interesting way AUGH THE REST WOULD HAVE BEEN SO GOOD.

[zkaus]

At the back of my copy of The Vampire Armand, there's an old interview with Anne Rice talking about creating that novel. I've never forgotten her answer to one of the questions... It haunted me for years.

It gives incredible insight into how and why she wrote such beautiful, brutal and broken characters, and what she endured in the creation process.

BUT before you read this, I'm going to STRONGLY warn you, it goes to very very DARK places

Q: What are your work habits for a novel?

A: Once I truly begin to write, I work obsessively, in twelve-hour days, punctuated by days of long sleep and vivid dreaming. Starting time and ending time are no longer important. I might begin at 9 A.M., or after noon or at eight in the evening. I go from there. I turn on the computer and write, write, write.

My room is a mess. Notes are scribbled on the walls so that I can look up at them at the appropriate moments and insert the date, the name, whatever, when I need it. Books are stacked so high that people have to search for me when they come into the room. Opened books with marked-up pages are stacked on top of one another.

I become suicidal. I go through a horrid despair some time or other before the final page, during which everything seems meaningless—from the dawn of history to the very hour in which I am writing.

I’m intolerable to live with. But I spread myself thin over a number of loved ones and staff members so that no one person has to put up with how intense, hysterical, and miserable I am.

When I get elated and talk fast and furiously about wonderful aspects of history or the characters, or good developments in the story, people run away from me. I don’t blame them.

While the novel is being written, I try to avoid dressing for outdoors. No one can make you go out if you don’t have shoes on. Not even in the south. I wear long velvet robes and soft velvet slippers. I refuse to go out. All food is brought in. I eat hamburgers because they are easy to hold with one hand while reading and holding the book with the other hand.

In the middle of the night I read, sometimes on the carpeted floor of the bathroom, just because it’s warm. I am wretched. I don’t care anymore about being abnormal. Writing is everything. Everything. It seems impossible to write the book. It seems impossible to lift a hairbrush to brush my hair. But I do it. I put on mascara every day that I write.

This period of intense work lasts about six weeks. It’s best that way. My imagination is overheated, and my memory clogged with data of varying importance. If I go over six weeks, I begin to forget things; I feel the loss of intensity and information and I become all the more self-destructive and obsessed.

The end of the book is a big event for me. A big event. I start screaming. I put the hour and the date at the end of the last page. I expect everybody to understand, at least a little. It’s a triumph! The darkness of destiny has been driven back for a brief while. I celebrate. I scream, eat chocolate, and sleep.

Right near the end of writing The Vampire Armand, I realized I had to return to Italy, especially to Florence, and at once I began to make preparations for the trip. As soon as the novel was finished and off to the publisher’s, as soon as it could be accomplished, I flew to Italy. That gave me hope, a way out of a life threatening darkness that often follows the climax of a book. But I still ate chocolate and screamed.

While writing, I don’t want to rest. I don’t want to sleep. Why sleep? It seems stupid, except when weariness overcomes me like a giant cloud of poisonous vapor. Then I sleep fifteen to twenty hours. I tell people to go in and out of the bedroom and ignore me lying there, as if I were dead. I won’t talk on the phone. I won’t open my eyes if I don’t have to. I dream terrible, upsetting dreams.

I want to kill myself. But I can’t. I can’t do it to other people, and I have work that must be done, novels that must be written. So I don’t kill myself. Besides, I don’t think it’s good to kill oneself. It’s a horrible idea. It has a horrible effect even on acquaintances.

I think a lot about people I loved who are dead. I think of how dead they are, year after year, ever more dead.

[syrma-sensei]

→ Hush Hush Behind The Shield.

gif credit.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Wife!reader.

Rating: Explicit.

Warnings: Vought's ungodly shenanigans, mentions of cheating, couple fighting, angst, misogyny, antiquated mentality, dub-con, power imbalance, fingering, forced orgasms, angry sex, cock riding...

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Being america's greatest hero's wife has its perks, but they don't come for free...

A/N: I'd like to thank my two pretty moots, @kaleldobrev who's been always there for me, listening to mental blurbs and chaotic spews of unhinged ideas and continuous mind dump ❤️ and @zepskies who bares my energy, which can be a bit much, each time I spam her dms with life cringing memes and awaful reacts ❤️

Kneeling down on one knee, your mitted hands hoisted the oven door close as you hummed a melody to yourself. Turning on your heels, you stood up and gave the dining table a once-over before allowing a proud grin slip on your lips.

“Perfect.”

Then your eyes glanced at your watch. It was half an hour past seven in the evening. Perfect. There'd be enough time to pamper yourself in a relaxing shower and spruce up with no rush before your husband was home.

You gave the dining room another glimpse to make sure everything was in place before you headed to the bathroom upstairs, walking through the living room where the T.V. displayed a Soldier Boy anti-drugs commercial.

A snore escaped your nose upon hearing the phrase: “Just say no.” Remembering how your husband threw a fit behind the scenes at how stupid it was, to the point of getting Stan Edgar himself on the line for him to find an alternative to it. Because no way he was saying that shit.

“God, I sounded like a fucking douchebag,” He'd told you in his dressing room, a smouldering reefer hanging between his lips — the irony, after they wrapped filming up.

You'd giggled, playfully plucking it from his lips to take a drag of your own, “No, baby, you did just fine.” You purred, and his mouth curled up into a small grin, “The public needs that y'know…” You tipped his chin up, your polished, long nails grazed lightly to his skin, “You're America's golden son, right? You're the man everyone should look up to.”

“Damn sure they should.” He'd chuckled, leaning down for a kiss which you gladly welcomed.

Being Soldier Boy's wife came with many many perks, but it also had its downsides, one of which was to have to deal with his short temper. But what could you say? You loved the man. Ardently so; you literally fought the world to have him all for yourself despite Vought's disapproval of your nuptial.

You savoured the victory when you married Ben in a small ceremony without Vought's blessing. It was like a slap to them when Ben imparted upon them the happy news, he delivered them a severe black eye, especially the vainglorious bastard Edgar. Who had once told you that you and Ben wouldn't work out, for it was simply "inconvenient" for a superhero like Soldier Boy to be involved in a serious relationship with a mere… human; it'd be a "disappointment" in the public eye, as he put it. Like he had a say in the matter.

But here you were, with a ring on your left hand to swagger about, and happily married to America's first hero, Edgar and Vought could say hello to your middle finger.

To nobody's surprise, you resented Vought, and held such abhorrence against them for not letting you and your husband live the life you wanted for yourselves. Despite your personal efforts, your proclaimed triumph was soon cut short because Vought declined to go public and endorse your marriage. Not that you and your husband gave two shits about their approval, but the rules were rules. And their lawyers affirmed that a public exposure of your marriage might damage Soldier Boy's rep, therefore, Vought's; given the fact that you were more than thirty years younger than him. They couldn't have it said that the hero of heroes was a creep even though they'd tried to conceal his age when he and Phoebe Cates starred in Love And War because it started to seem fishy. It was expected, though. But what you didn't see coming was Ben's response, or lack of response as to put it.

Despite being even more obdurate about this marriage than yourself. You felt terribly abjured by your husband. You'd thought he'd fight for you, for what you both had, and he'd want to let the world know about you. It'd broken your heart when it dawned upon you that Ben wouldn't risk his fame and glory for anyone, for you. Reluctantly, you bit the bullet, you had to, for him, because you loved him, and would do anything to keep this marriage intact. If you had to compromise for it, then so be it. You didn't care.

To your solace, Ben never changed after the frustrating incident; he was still the man you fell in love with. He might be smug, crass, and insufferable to everyone but you could still perceive the tender side he had though he'd never actually admit it, and you never pushed him too much. You were subtle enough to know when to stroke his ego and when to tease it. He was a man, after all. But it was obvious; he was a doting husband who cherished you in his own way. He showered you with gifts, and pampered you when he could. And he was eager to have babies with you. He never ceased to express how rapturous he would be if he were to have a son. A child with you.

Sure, you had your own qualms about that particular day, and there was more than a time you wanted to have a conversation with him about it. But you couldn't bring yourself to screw it up with stupid doubts. If Ben hadn't truly loved you, he wouldn't have treated you the way he did, he wouldn't have brought you to his workplace to have you at his side — and to poke Vought's eye every single time. He wouldn't have let you in and told you about his family and his dad, about his fucked-up childhood and how he became a hero.

No, your bond was bigger than any fleeting thoughts of incredulity.

You crooned softly as you wrapped a towel around your body after you finished your shower. Stepping out, you rubbed your hair with another towel and made your way down towards the kitchen to check on the pie.

Oh, Ben liked pies. You found it amusing how he'd swallow a whole pie alone and wouldn't affect him one bit; a supe sure required a lot of calories. Sometimes, you wished you had his great metabolism.

The moreish scent of baked dough and chocolate told you it was ready. You opened the oven door with a protected hand and placed the delicious pie by the window to let it cool down while you dressed up.

On your way back to your bedroom, you padded through the living room again. Your eyes glanced fleetingly at the screen only to stop abruptly in your tracks. A slight frown made it to your face as you saw a picture of Ben and Crimson Countess together. You never liked Countess. Something about her always disturbed you, and your guts were right.

Your eyes roamed the headline over and over, dilating in stupor.

Breaking News: Soldier Boy and Crimson Countess are officially together, Vought announced.

You shook your head in disbelief, hand grasping the remote control from the couch, shivering fingers shuffling through the channels.

Soldier Boy finally found the one!

Your heart paced up with each press.

A long awaited power couple is now here!

Vought just shocked the world by—

And here's Soldier Boy and Countess's statement…

It was hard to quell your simmering anger when you saw your husband smiling face with that bitch between his arms. Camera flashes and clicks swarmed around them with an entourage of reporters and interviewers.

“Hey, Soldier Boy, now you're together, what can you tell us about the first time you saw Countess? Was it love at first?” A reporter asked.

Ben scratched his beard with his gloved hand, drawling “First time I met Tess was when Vought concocted a hero collab years ago, remember that honey?”

You did remember that event very clearly. You were still Ben's secret girlfriend at the time, and it was exclusive to superheroes, yet Ben brought you there as his date.

Ben grinned as if dreamily reminiscing about the memory as he continued, “And lemme tell ya one thing, this one is a firecracker.”

Countess giggled playfully, gazing up at your husband in the most flirtatious way, it made you gag with disgust.

You scoffed bitterly at the blatant lies spurting right in your face. That specific night, Ben had childishly grumbled and complained about how much he wanted to be out of there. And to spice things up, he playfully dragged you from the pristine hall the event took place in, and fucked you raw against one of the wall of some other hall, keeping your panties as a souvenir for the rest of the soirée. He kept teasing you through the entire night, riling and messing you up. At the time, it was thrilling and venturous. Now, however, it knotted at the tip of your stomach. His focus that day was solely on you. He wasn't even aware of the bitch's presence for all you care.

“And when I first saw her… knew she was the one….”

You couldn't comprehend what Ben said after that point as a deafening buzz bolted through your ears. Tears rolled down your cheeks, and soon they were streaming from your eyes as you stood numb on your spot. Your tears splattered on the ground along with your heart.

“Honey, I'm home.” Ben announced once he stepped in the house. He sighed, putting his shield down and making his way to the kitchen where you usually would be, making his dinner. He didn't take his boots off though he knew you'd throw a fit about it, but let's just say that teasing and screwing with you was his favourite hobby. His anticipating grin soon dropped and a small scowl knitted his brows when an odd mixture of scents wafted into his nose. His eyes dilated at the unusual messy scene in the kitchen; the table was flipped over, glass splints scattered all over the floor, freshly-cooked food covering the carpet beneath the dining table, and a chocolate pie was squashed into the wall.

With a pacing heart, Ben cried your name, and hurriedly climbed up the stairs. His feet darted to the bedroom when he heard you sniffling and weeping.

An audible sigh of relief flouted out of chest when he saw you. Your hair was wet and a damp towel wrapped around your body, but his eyebrow quirked up when he noticed you packing a bag on the bed. The fuck?

“(Y/N), the fuck is going here?” You scared the shit outta me. He wanted to say, after the shitty day he had, he just wanted to have you in his arms and play with your hair.

You startled for a moment when you heard his southern accent. You used to be fond of it, but today you were certainly not.

“I'm leaving.” Your answer came out curt, your hands tugging your bag zippers close.

You heard his footsteps getting closer until you felt his hand on your bare shoulder, “What happened to you, sweetheart?”

You pulled yourself away from his hold, hissing, “Don't you fucking touch me!”

He didn't seem to heed your warning as he reached a hand to your face. Gritting your teeth, you spun around with your hand ready to deliver a slap to his cheek. However, and no matter how fast and pissed you were, he was always quicker and alerter. Fucking supe.

“You don't get to touch me ever again you asshole!” You shrieked, yanking your wrist from his grasp, your wet hair stuck to your face, chest heaving with each breath. 

“The fuck is wrong with you, woman?!” He growled with a deep scowl, “Just left you all happy and giggling in the morning, is it here? Your time of the month again?”

“Fuck you!” You spat, clenched hands rising up to his chest, “You're my fucking problem,” You jabbed a fist to chest, though he didn't move an inch, but damn didn't it feel good! You blew another punch to his stupidly firm chest again and again.

“Fucking Christ!” He grumbled, and with one strong arm, Ben wrangled your back against his chest and caged you in his steel hold, one hand securing both of your wrists above your head, “Calm the fuck down!”

Legs kicking and hands tugging, you tried to wriggle out of his arms but to no avail, you felt so helpless against his raw strength. Your anger and frustration poured out of your mouth in a wailing, broken voice, “Leave. Me. Alone!” You bellowed, “Go to your fucking Crimson Bitch!” Two rivulets of tears drizzled from your eyes again, “Go to your fucking Tess and let her fire-crack your nuts, you fucking pussy!”

“Christ on a cross, do you hear yourself talk, woman?!”

His eyes widened before his eyebrows scrunched deeply. He took you off guard when he brought you down to the floor as he crouched on one knee. Your towel unwrapped at the sudden movement and you were naked beneath his eyes. His hands were still holding you in place.

Two green eyes regarded you softly, “You really took that marketing shit for real?” He thumbed your lower lip, and his free hand trailed down your naked form. “Fucking hell, thought you were way smarter than that, sweetheart.” You shivered from both the cold and his touch, his sinful reaching your mound, “You really think I'd fucking leave you for her?”

You couldn't suppress the moan when he stroked your throbbing clit. A shot of arousal seeped out of your opening much to Ben's satisfaction. Anger made the colour of your face rise, “Fuck you! Fuck your bitch! Fuck Vought!” You spat, your eyes burning holes into his as he proceeded toying with your flesh until your voice broke, “Y-You want me to buy your shit — Ah!” Two of his thick and expert digits entered your slit, massaging your love spots thoroughly. “After you didn't stand up for our marriage?!” You groaned, hips rolling to the rhythm of his fingers.

“Is that so?” His brow quirked up amusedly. Was this funny to this bastard? Was your marriage some kind of a joke to him?

You gasped as he deliberately hit your weak spot; sweet, delightful coils fluttered at the tip of your stomach, “I was under the fucking impression that you had your pretty, little head wrapped around how this fucking business worked!” He snarled.

“Fuck you! I hate you!” Your body snapped as you came abundantly on his fingers which made him grin slyly down at you.

You felt his grip on your wrists loosen, so you took your window and jerked yourself free. He was shocked when you pushed him down on the floor and straddled his hips, your dripping cunt was drenching his pants with your cum. He raised a playful brow at you but soon was replaced by a shocked frown when you slapped his irritatingly handsome face.

“Fucking hell, you fucking little ballbuster—”

You shushed him with a finger on his lips, “You're fucking mine, Benjamin, you hear me! You're fucking mine!” You hissed, having no idea where your vigour came from as you tore his shirt off of his chest. His length poked you when you gazed with searing fire in your eyes at his, “You. Belong. To. Me.” You furiously tucked his pants and boxers down, his cock springing out with life.

A wanton moan came off your lips as you sunk yourself down his cock, whereas he grumbled in pleasure as you hugged him tightly with your wet and warm insides.

You snapped your hips harshly and he growled, “Fuck, doll—!”

Another snap, your voice was laboured, “I own you. You're married not to that whore, not to Vought, but to me!”

Your skin slammed against his meat vehemently as you gritted your teeth when another orgasm was spiralling in your body. You paced up your movement, a hand banging demandingly on his chest, “Say it! You're fucking mine!”

“Holy shit!” You watched his eyes roll backwards as he rasped, “Yours, babe,”

“Holy fuck, Ben! Ben, I'm coming again!”

That was his cue to take control again. He sat up, cradling you in his warm hold, “Cum to me, babe, fucking soak my cock.” You wabled his name, clinging to his shoulders as your climax stormed out of your body like a mad hurricane. You whimpered pathetically when his two large hands on your hips kept making you ride him through your high.

“Fucking stupid girl,” He growled, shooting his seed up your insides.

With laboured breaths, you glared at each other. You felt his cock softening inside of you, “Fucking idiot man.” You scoffed.

He chuckled with a boyish grin on his sweaty face, “That was fucking hot, think I like this wild side of you, darlin'”

You snickered, “You bet, wait until you see what I'm gonna do with that little fuck, Edgar.”

Ben rumbled a deep chortle, much to your annoyance, would this man ever take you seriously? “I swear to fucking Christ, Ben, if they—you don't break off that stupid shit with Countess and go public about us, I'll fucking burn that fucking tower to the fucking ground, because I'm fucking done with this—mhmmm!”

He cut you off with a scorching kiss and its heat made you thaw against his lips. His cock twitched inside of you.

“Jealousy looks pretty on you though, sweetheart” He teased, his lips brushing to yours.

God, damn this man and his endless ego! “Ben!” You nudged him playfully.

“Can't wait to see you wanting to snatch some ladies' heads off when we go to balls together.”

You smiled at him, biting on your bottom lip. The idea of finally being acknowledged as Ben's wife warmed your heart, and his willingness to do so made your heart race. However, disturbing thoughts loomed in your head again, “Think Vought will let us be?” You asked with hesitation. Fuck, that shit really got too deep into you.

He rolled his eyes, “Try not to work your pretty head hard 'bout this, doll,” He tucked a tress of your hair behind your ear, “The man who fucking beat the Nazis can handle some sweaty fucknuts at Vought.” There was something warmly reassuring about his smugness.

“See? All that shit wouldn't happen if you didn't stay silent while they fucking tried to play their fucking game!”

Ben chuckled, “Well, the fucking was totally worth it.”

You groaned in frustration, “Ben… I thought you abandoned me.”

Your husband furrowed his brows at you, “You women hardly think sometimes, don't you?” You scowled at his remark but he sighed, cradling your cheeks in his warm hands, “I fucking fought to make you my wife. I fucking put my whole career and name at risk for you.” You blinked at him, “The day before we tied our knot, I fucking told the boardroom that I was marrying you, that I'd fucking walk off if they tried anything funny… they didn't, till fucking today.” He sighed, “They fucking announced that bullshit before I was even told.”

“Assholes,” You whispered.

“After that pathetic act, I fucking stormed to Edgar like I stormed Normandy. Let's say that he and I did a little bit of chatting,” He gave you a conceited smirk, giving you no detail of how he got scared shitless when he saw the mess in the kitchen. He thought Vought dared to fucking do something to you. And when he heard you cry he feared the worst. But of course, he wouldn't tell you anything about that. Because he was the fucking man of this house; if his feelings of fear appeared, the sense of security he provided to this house, to you, would crumble. And he wouldn't have that. Ever.

You, on the other hand, had a weird combination of pride and happiness sprouted within your chest.

“I'm so sorry, Ben…” You said, cupping his face in your hands, “I-I don't know what came over me when I saw you with her,” You couldn't even say her name.

“Couldn't have your man stolen away, could you?” He teased you.

“Never.” You answered, “And I'm sorry for what happened, husband.”

“I mean you did make it up for me, wife,” He flashed you a cheeky grin, “Though, I don't feel particularly in a forgiving mood… yet.”

Head tilting to the side, your raised an eyebrow, rolling your hips teasingly on his cock, “Don't push your luck…”

“Try me.”

🦅 Soldier Boy Masterlist.

taglist: @zepskies, @deansbbyx, @kaleldobrev, @k-slla, @deanbrainrotwritings, @deans-spinster-witch, @venus-haze, @thebiggerbear...

[l-artemisia-del-secolo]

Death was inevitable.

You knew it, you felt it, you experienced it. All these years your existence as if was borrowed. Changing places, changing people, changing lives.

You didn't age. You didn't feel. You were stuck in the the neverending loop of lies and deception. You forgot who you were and where you came from.

Your jobs were unremarkable, your entourage - dull. No personal belongings, no memorabilia. Even your memories were almost gone.

It was a usual thing. You were spending your evening at work. For the last few months you were working at the restaurant. Blessed time. You could be on your own.

You heard the door open. But you did lock it.

"We're closed."

One look was enough to recognise her. Just a second and your heart almost burst from your chest. It was her. The inevitable, the dark, the devouring.

"Well, I opened the door. I hope you don't mind."

She was weirdly normal. No skull, no greens, no crown. She could fool anyone with this disguise.

"What are you doing here?" You were ready to protect yourself. Your magic was almost palpable.

"That's a weird question." She crossed her arms. "I came to see you."

"How did you find me?" You were hoping tables and chairs could slow her down. Even a second could be valuable.

"What kind of question is that?" Her amused laugh was an insult to the reality itself. "I never lost you."

"No. no. no." You shook your head in disbelief. "I am protected from your sight. Sorcerers..."

"Oh, those idiots..." She was adorable with her barely hidden disgust. "Noone can be hidden from me. And..."

With the wave of her hand all the obstacles disappeared.

"'... we're bound, my love. remember?"

With a flick of a wrist her way to you was covered in flowers. She made the first step.

"Stay where you are."

"Fine, fine." She looked around. "Nice place. You like working here?"

You couldn't believe it was really going on. Rio was almost polite. You were almost broken. What if she was telling the truth? What if you were never really hidden from her?

"Not much of a choice."

"Really? Sourceres lied to you about protection and they made your existence unbearable? And people call me evil."

"You are."

"How?" Rio was offended. Childish reaction to an unpleasant truth.

"You manipulate people into bringing you more souls."

"Oh, I do hope you're not being serious. I'm the guide, not a murderer. People always make their own choice."

Now it was your turn to laugh. Comedy indeed. With Rio having the main role.

"How dare you..." you took a few steps towards her. "When it comes to you, there's no choice at all. Not even an illusion. Not even for the living."

You were boiling with anger. You were shivering with fear. For so long you tried to avoid this.

"You're not being fair..."

"What are you doing here Rio?!"

"I want us to be together." She pointed to your heart. "I want you to come home with me."

Of course. Why even for a second you believed that you could be free. An illusion, your life without her was nothing more than a dream. She could easily shatter it with one word, with one move.

"We never had a home. We never..."

"Of course we did..." Images of your past appeared.

Yes, Rio did create a world for you. Just and simple. You could do whatever you wanted, you could be whoever you wanted. Everything was easy. And you were loved. Your home was with her.

"Rio..." Everything that was sleeping inside of you suddenly was awake. Yes, memories were appearing again. You felt overwhelmed. But then you gasped. No, you wouldn't allow her to trick you again. "... I won't allow you."

"I don't understand." Rio said under her breath. "I gave you the time and you're still angry."

Genuine confusion. A triumph for you.

"Time?"

"Yes, I gave you 100 years and you still don't want me..."

"You gave me?" lamps started flickering "I ran away from you!"

Oh, this was torture. Rio tried to get closer, but you raised your hand. A warning. The air itself started vibrating.

"The important part is..."

You invited the wind, it was silencing Rio.

"You wanted me to be trapped in your pocket dimension. You don't remember this? Veins of your world that were holding my wrists." You rolled up your sleeves. "Your creations always leave scars!"

"I made a mistake. I gave you the time...."

Rio's words were just an echo. You were once again reliving your worst nightmare. You were trapped. You were betrayed by someone you loved.

"What do you know about time?" You were so stupid to believe that you had a chance. You left the world you loved just to be dragged back in by someone who cursed you.

"I can heal them."

In a blink of an eye your scars disappeared. Painful reminder of your dreams, hopes and stupidity. How soothing it was to feel Rio's black power on you. Where the fuck was your survival instinct?

"It doesn't change anything. I left you."

"I wanted only to protect you."

"With a cage?" Now it was your time to show illusion. Shackles appeared around Rio's wrists, pulling her closer to you. "Do you feel protected?"

Where was her confidence? Where were her tricks? Those shackles were the weight of her guilt.

"I didn't want you to leave me like the others. It was the only way."

It was so simple for Rio. She didn't hesitate, she didn't think. It wasn't a game. It was so trivial.

"You broke me." You were choking on your tears. "You took away everything. Why tonight?"

"That day I broke the rules for you." Rio once again pointed to your heart. You remembered how her touch felt.

"I didn't ask you to."

"No." All the restraints disappeared. "You never had to."

One last step.

"You cursed me."

"I gave you the only thing I had." She touched your cheek. "And then I've made the worst mistake I ever could."

You hated her. How she was capable of showing deepest love and greatest disdain. Mistake? You were the one who had to pay for it. And now she was calling you back.

"We are bound." You shared the same black blood. Immortality. Her gift. What was the point of denying it?

You took the last step. It was so easy to find comfort in her embrace. There were tears in her eyes. Clouds of loyalty and promises.

Years of suffering were erased only because she called you. How could this be possible? Her breath on your skin was enough. It was so easy to give in. You shared the same life. It was so easy to convince yourself of her good intentions.

"Rio..." 

"Let's go home my love."

Death was indeed inevitable.