#a tranquil sea on all horizons

[urtrickster]

starset songs are just always so tragically romantic ugh i love them. i love them.

[santaasi]

moonstruck

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: who could have known that jj maybank would steal your first kiss beneath the stars, all to evade the pursuing police?

warnings: fluff, first kiss, no use of y/n, english isn't my first language

word count: 2.6k

a/n: a little fic to celebrate the release of obx4. after s3 idk if I'll watch s4, but you can give me your opinion about 5 new eps in the comments. have a nice time reading this work! love u <3

ᯓ★ now playing...

enhypen - moonstruck

THE NIGHT AIR WAS WARM, infused with the salty tang of the sea and the soothing rhythm of waves crashing against the shore. The gentle breeze rustled the palm fronds, creating a soft, whispering melody that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. This tranquil evening was the only redeeming quality of your job at the cluttered antique store. After two long years, you still wondered how your boss managed to keep the place afloat, especially when half the customers left without buying anything. Those who did purchase something often bombarded you with endless questions that drained your patience, just like today.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on your shoulders as your shift finally came to an end. All you wanted was to retreat to the solace of your home and hide beneath a warm blanket. It had been one of those days—when customers were rude, the air conditioning was a distant memory, your legs ached from standing, and you smelled like a dust-covered relic.

After struggling to lock the front door—an ancient key refusing to cooperate, as if it had been stuck since the Great Depression—you slung your bag over your shoulder and stepped out into the quiet streets of the Cut. The fresh sea air caressed your skin, invigorating your senses. You knew this town like the back of your hand, every crack in the pavement a familiar companion. The streetlights flickered overhead, bulbs long overdue for replacement, casting a dim glow that made the shadows dance around you. Though it wasn’t the safest place, it was home—a place where trouble always seemed to find you.

And one of them even had a name: JJ Maybank.

Like everyone in the Cut, you had heard countless stories about him and his adventures with the crew who proudly called themselves the Pogues. From the time you were kids, his reputation as a wild spirit with a devil-may-care attitude had preceded him. You remembered the laughter that echoed through the neighborhood as he and his friends roamed the sandy streets, always planning their next adventure—sneaking onto rooftops, racing bikes down the winding roads, and daring each other to dive into the ocean at dawn. JJ was the embodiment of carefree youth, with a reckless smile that could charm anyone and a spark in his eyes that promised trouble.

Despite sharing the same neighborhood, your worlds felt galaxies apart. While he thrived in the thrill of spontaneous adventures, you found comfort in the quiet corners of your life. You spent lazy afternoons lost in books, dreaming of places far beyond the horizon. As children, you’d played side by side in the warm sand, yet your paths seemed to diverge with the years. JJ was the star of wild tales and whispered legends, while you remained a quiet observer, forever intrigued yet hesitant to step into his whirlwind of chaos.

You never expected that your paths would cross, at least not like this — bound together by a single, reckless moment that would change everything.

As you stood there, savoring the rhythmic crash of waves against the sandy shore, the tranquil scene was suddenly pierced by the sound of heavy footsteps behind you — fast and uneven, as if someone were running. The street was mostly quiet, just a few couples strolling hand in hand, lost in the warmth of a summer evening. The sudden urgency in the air pulled your attention, stirring a sense of curiosity.

Before you could turn to see who it was, a hand grasped your wrist, spinning you around with a swift motion. Your heart leaped into your throat, eyes widening in shock. You instinctively clutched the worn fabric of a white T-shirt, struggling to steady yourself. Frowning in confusion, you looked up and met the cheeky blue eyes of the last person you expected to see.

It was him — JJ Maybank himself, breathless and frantic, the unmistakable spark of mischief dancing in his gaze. Even amid his panic, his blue eyes glinted with a familiar wildness, hinting at the reckless adventure he always seemed to be chasing. In that moment, the world around you faded, leaving only the two of you standing on the edge of the beach, the waves whispering secrets to the shore.

“Hey there, my pretty little neighbor! It’s a perfect evening for a walk, don’t you think?” JJ chatted, his smile strained as he kept glancing back over his shoulder.

“JJ? What are you doing—?” You barely had time to finish your question before he cut you off. His playful demeanor vanished, replaced by an uncharacteristic seriousness that sent a chill down your spine. His blue eyes scanned your face, searching for something.

“I need your help,” he said quickly, lowering his voice as the distant wail of sirens began to fill the air.

Your thoughts raced, but they tangled together in confusion. “What?” you whispered, still too stunned to process what was happening.

“The cops are coming,” he said urgently, glancing around as if the shadows themselves might betray him. “I just… I need you to help me not get caught. Please.”

You blinked, trying to wrap your head around the situation. The sirens grew louder, and flashing lights danced around the corner, cutting through the evening calm. Panic swelled in your chest. What could you possibly do? You were not the type to get involved in this kind of chaos, especially not with someone like JJ, who always seemed to flirt with trouble.

You bit your lip, staring at him, your mind racing. You had no clue what JJ had done this time, but with all the rumors swirling about him, it could be serious. If the cops saw you with him, they might think you were involved, and the last thing you wanted was to be dragged into a police station to answer questions. All you wanted was to go home, wrap yourself in a cozy blanket, binge-watch your favorite show, and sip hot tea until sleep finally took you.

But time was running out. You needed a plan — and fast.

Then, a ridiculous idea flashed through your mind, inspired by that Marvel movie you had watched a few weeks ago. People tended to look away when they saw couples getting too… intimate. It was as if tenderness made them uncomfortable, a reminder of something personal they weren’t meant to witness. Kisses, soft touches, the kind of closeness that drew attention away from everything else.

Oh, no. You swallowed hard, heart pounding. It was a risky move, but you didn’t have the luxury of time to second-guess yourself.

Before you could stop yourself, you grabbed JJ by the collar and pulled him closer, pressing your lips to his.

It wasn’t just any kiss; it was your first kiss, and you had no clue what you were doing. The warmth of his lips against yours sent a jolt through you, a thrilling rush that left you dizzy. His breath mingled with yours, soft and sweet, and for a heartbeat, everything else faded away. You thought about pulling back, a wave of embarrassment washing over you, but then you felt his hand cradling the back of your head, steadying you, keeping you from breaking the moment.

“Whoa,” you whispered, your heart racing. But before you could say anything else, JJ deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours with a playful insistence. You gasped, a surprised sound escaping your lips as your mind spun with confusion and exhilaration. You were lost in a whirlwind of sensations — your heart pounded wildly, and your hands found their way into his hair, fingers tugging gently at the tips.

Suddenly, your back hit something cold and hard. JJ pulled back slightly, both of you panting, gulping for air. His gaze swept over your face, a mixture of surprise and something unnameable flickering in his eyes. You opened your mouth, desperate to say something — anything — to justify your impulsive action, to apologize for crossing a line. The silence felt thick and awkward, stretching out between you like a taut string.

“Uh, I didn’t—” you began, but before you could finish, JJ’s hand cupped your cheek, his touch warm and grounding. He pulled you in again, kissing you once more, more fiercely this time.

Your cheeks burned, but it felt like your entire body was ablaze. Thoughts of right and wrong melted away, leaving only the intoxicating pleasure of his lips against yours. You couldn’t help but think that everyone who claimed JJ Maybank’s kisses were magical had it all wrong. They weren’t magical; they were raw and real, yet they lifted you high above the chaos of the world. Each kiss felt like a leap into the unknown, an escape where your soul soared and your heart raced.

Just as you lost yourself in the heat of it all, the wail of sirens pierced the air, cutting through the intimacy of the moment. Police cars rushed past, barely glancing in your direction, but the sudden noise jolted your heart back to reality.

The kiss lingered for a heartbeat longer before you pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, struggling to process what had just happened. JJ blinked, his lips slightly parted, as if he wanted to say something, but the words failed to materialize, hanging in the air between you like unspoken secrets.

As reality settled back in, you dropped your hands, suddenly aware of just how close you had been. The warmth of the moment began to fade, replaced by a rush of embarrassment that flooded your cheeks. You cleared your throat, adjusting the bag that had slipped off your shoulder, the awkwardness of the situation weighing heavily on you.

“I... uh, saw it in the movies,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. The words tumbled out in a rush. “People don’t like public affection, so…”

JJ stared at you, a mixture of surprise and amusement flickering in his blue eyes. Then, to your shock, a slow grin spread across his face, playful and teasing. “Damn it,” he said, still trying to catch his breath, his voice light with laughter. “Remind me to ask you to save my ass more often, Bambi.”

You felt your cheeks ignite like they were on fire, and instinctively, you took a step back, craving a little more space. What had you just gotten yourself into? Your mind raced, blinking like a deer caught in headlights, unsure whether to crack a joke, tease him back, or just stand there in stunned silence.

JJ chuckled hoarsely, shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite believe the turn of events. “You’re something else, you know that?”

A nervous laugh escaped your lips, the tension hanging between you slowly beginning to ease, but the flutter in your stomach remained, leaving you wondering what this moment meant for both of you.

“Don’t look at me like that with those beautiful big eyes of yours, or I might just fall for you right here and now,” he teased, flashing a wink that sent a rush of warmth to your cheeks.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, though a shy smile crept onto your lips. “Seriously, JJ? Is this your idea of flirting? Because it’s kind of cheesy.”

“I know, right?” he laughed, the sound light and carefree. “But it works, doesn’t it? I mean, look at you! I’d be an idiot not to try.”

His voice dropped, a playful seriousness creeping in as he leaned closer. “I think I owe you now,” he whispered, almost conspiratorially, his breath tickling your ear. His hand slid gently over your shoulder, and before you could react, he casually lifted your bag, throwing it over his shoulder like it weighed nothing.

“Hey! That’s my bag!” you protested, half-heartedly, your heart fluttering at his boldness.

“I know, but I don’t like being beholden to beautiful girls like you,” he said, grinning like he’d just won a prize. “So, as a thank you, I’m walking you home. Wouldn’t want anyone to steal you away.”

He winked again, laughter dancing in his blue eyes as he started to walk ahead, your bag bouncing lightly against his back. You stood frozen for a moment, still processing what just happened. His hair was tousled, the way it always was, and you wondered if your heart had raced like this before. Did you really make him flustered? Oh my God, was this really happening?

“Are you coming?” he called over his shoulder, pausing to give you that cheeky grin that made your stomach flip.

“Uh, yeah, I’m coming!” you managed to say, shaking yourself out of your daze. You hurried to catch up with him, your heart beating wildly, a mix of exhilaration and disbelief bubbling inside you. As you walked side by side, the sound of the waves crashing behind you and the warm breeze wrapping around you felt like a secret the universe was sharing.

The night air was alive with laughter and playful banter, the gentle rhythm of the waves providing a perfect soundtrack to your conversation. JJ animatedly recounted his latest adventures with the Pogues — like the time they snuck into the lighthouse for a midnight swim and ended up launching a misguided rescue mission for a beach ball. You hung on every word, entranced by his charisma, the warmth of his presence beside you igniting something within you.

“Seriously, though,” he said, glancing sideways, a cheeky grin spreading across his face, “thanks for helping me back there. Who knew a cute girl could be such a hero?”

You laughed, the sound bright in the night air. “I didn’t have much of a choice. You practically swept me off my feet with that spin…”

He chuckled, that familiar mischief dancing in his gaze. “What can I say? I’ve always been drawn to trouble. And now, I guess I’m just moonstruck by you.”

With each step, the distance between you shrank, a connection sparking amid the chaos of the night. When you finally reached your porch, he paused, turning to face you, the glow of the moon illuminating his features in a way that made your heart race.

“I had an awesome time tonight,” he said, a hint of sincerity in his tone. “Maybe we should hang out again. You know, when I’m not dodging cops or getting into trouble. How about a pizza or something?”

You chuckled, the sound light and bright. “Didn’t know you treated all your life saviors to dinner. What’s next, a moonlit pizza date?”

JJ smirked, leaning in slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. “Only the cute ones. Just imagine it—a night under the stars, with me serenading you about my crazy adventures. Sounds perfect, right?”

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling your heart race at the thought. “Yeah, maybe. But I’m not sure if I’m ready for your karaoke skills yet.”

He threw his head back and laughed, a sound that made your heart flutter. “Oh, I’ll win you over. You’ll be begging for an encore.”

With a final grin, he stepped back, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment that felt electric. “Cool. I’ll see you around then.”

As you watched him walk away, the night felt charged with promise, the moonlight casting a silvery glow that made everything seem magical. You stood on your porch, a soft whisper of excitement filling your heart, knowing that this was just the beginning of something wonderfully beautiful—something that had you feeling both moonstruck and hopeful for what lay ahead.

thankx for reading <3

you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox :3

- your santi 🪐

masterlist

[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

All Chapters List

XXIV. Grief

Proditio sola veritas haeret.

Betrayal is the only truth that sticks.

Flames engulfed the ships of the Roman navy, illuminating the vast dark Mediterranean Sea with a haunting glow. In a desperate bid for survival, soldiers leaped into the churning waters, their forms silhouetted against the firelight. The night air was filled with their frantic shouts and the splashes of bodies breaking the surface, the echoes of their struggles piercing through the stillness of the night, a chilling symphony of chaos in the open sea.

In the dead of night, enemy ships loomed in the shadows, shrouded by an eerie stillness. Suddenly, a carefully orchestrated and merciless ambush struck without warning. Marcus lay in his cabin, the soft glow of an oil lamp flickering gently nearby, where his loyal companion Octavius rested. The tranquil atmosphere shattered like glass when a bone-rattling roar sliced through the silence, a sound that reverberated like a thunderclap. In an instant, the ship they inhabited trembled violently as a massive ballista projectile—launched from a hidden catapult on a distant vessel—crashed into their hull, sending splinters flying and chaos erupting around them.

The ship convulsed violently as if it had been struck by a great earthquake, the timbers groaning in protest while flames licked hungrily at the hull.

Wooden fragments melted away as though caught in a relentless blizzard, cascading into the cool embrace of the sea, leaving the vessel to seemingly dissolve like parchment in a fire.

As the another catapult's deadly payload smashed into the ship, soldiers caught in the chaos became mere memories, their lives snuffed out in an instant by splintering timber and raging flames. Those molded by fear and urgency on the lower deck scrambled desperately, eyes wide with panic as they sought their generals, and they did, yet the single path to salvation became painfully clear: they must abandon ship, and they must do so swiftly.

As Marcus and his fellow soldiers gazed at the burning, wrecked ships surrounding them, a sense of urgency gripped them. The horizon beckoned with the promise of land, not too far from their current position—potentially enemy territory, but there was no time to choose. They exchanged quick, determined glances before plunging one by one into the cool embrace of the water, the weight of their fate pressing down upon them.

Nearby, soldiers clinging to the splintered remnants of a wrecked vessel noticed their departure. Just as they began to swim towards Marcus and his group, a fiery projectile from a catapult soared overhead, crashing into the water with a thunderous force that sent a towering wave crashing down around them.

Marcus felt his heart race as the water erupted into chaos, momentarily swallowing him whole. For a second, he thought he was lost in despair. The chaos of the waves was overwhelming. But then, just as suddenly as it had started, the storm of waves calmed down, giving them a moment to catch their breath.

Caught off guard during their brief respite, most of the soldiers had donned their heavy armor, a cumbersome burden that hampered their attempts to swim. Only Marcus and Octavius had taken the leap without the weight of steel, since they were wearing only their tunics, while their brothers struggled against the encroaching tide. The fight for survival had only just begun, and the shore felt tantalizingly away, even as danger loomed in the depths.

Gasping for breath, they collapsed onto the wet earth, the sandy ground pressing against their weary bodies. As the relentless waves crashed around them, Marcus, anchored by determination and aided by his steadfast second-in-command, fought valiantly against the tide. With every ounce of strength coursing through his muscles, he reached out to his struggling soldiers, encumbered by their heavy armor, which threatened to drag them beneath the churning surface. One by one, he pulled them from the clutches of the water, his hands straining, heart racing, until they lay safe upon the shore, their lives preserved by sheer willpower and camaraderie.

Marcus was horrified as he gazed at the nightmare unfolding in the sea. The navy of his army, built through months of hard work, was burning before his eyes. His soldiers—his brothers—whom he had trained so diligently and intensely, sacrificing sleep and spending less time with his family, were drowning. His hands balled into fists as the darkness of the night, the deep blue of the water, and the bright red of the flames reflected in his brown eyes.

His chest constricted with a heavyweight as memories of the inspiring speech he had delivered just days before flooded back to him, filled with unwavering confidence and fierce determination. Pride had surged through him as he looked upon his men, their faces radiant with determination, ready to conquer the enemy's city. Yet now, one by one, many of them were slipping beneath the dark, churning waves of the sea, their once-vibrant spirits extinguishing like flickering candles. In the distance, other ships of the fleet retreated like shadows fading into the horizon, their sails drooping in surrender. He felt no anger toward them; he understood their plight. He had commanded this course of action, knowing it was the only honorable choice for a leader.

His feet carried him toward the sea, and as he stepped knee-deep, Octavius approached from behind and touched his shoulder. "Acacius," he murmured.

"Whoever did this, Octavius," he said through clenched teeth. "I will take his life with my own hands."

“Do you believe we’ve been betrayed?” Octavius' voice was heavy with suspicion as he spoke. “You might be right; the timing is strikingly suspicious. Only we possessed the knowledge of our fleet’s carefully charted route—just the two centurions and the legates, privy to this crucial secret. Do you think one of them could be the mastermind behind this treacherous act?”

“Why would they do something like that, sir?” one of the soldiers asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Marcus paused, asking the same question to himself. He may not have had the words for the soldier, but one name stood out with unwavering certainty in his mind.

As dawn’s first light crept over the horizon, gilding the waves in soft hues of gold and orange, Marcus slowly opened his weary eyes. He found himself nestled in a concealed nook along the shore, accompanied by his two loyal soldiers and Octavius. One by one, they shook off the remnants of sleep, drawn out of their restless slumber by the haunting memories of the night before.

The cacophony of battle that had echoed through the darkness had faded, leaving behind an eerie, sorrowful stillness that blanketed the coastline. As they gazed out across the expanse of the sea, their hearts sank at the desolation before them. Gone were the proud ships that had once soared through the waves; instead, splintered pieces of wood and tattered remnants of sails littered the water’s surface, mingling with the ghastly sight of fallen soldiers drifting aimlessly—a mournful procession of loss and despair. Their presence was a haunting reminder of a lost struggle; the echoes of betrayal and malicious actions turned what could have been a victory into a tragedy.

The scene was etched into their minds, a harrowing reminder of the brutality of war that they would carry with them for all eternity.

“Let’s find higher ground,” Marcus urged, his voice heavy with resolve. “We need to see if there are any survivors.”

They couldn’t see in the dark last night, but maybe they could now. Even if it was only one soldier, Marcus was determined to find one; he had to at least try. They climbed to a high place near the shore and squinted in the hot sun. But there was no sign of life, just birds of prey that could smell the corpses. The soldiers picked up whatever stones they could find and threw them angrily at the birds, wanting to drive away the cruel creatures that were trying to feast on the remains of their brothers.

Then they heard a moan and walked towards it. A soldier lay on the shore, badly wounded. When they realized who it was, they rushed to his side. He was in bad shape; in fact, all of them had suffered injuries from the fire and the debris that had grazed their bodies. But this soldier needed urgent treatment.

As the two soldiers carefully tended the other one's injuries, Marcus gazed toward the horizon, watching the foamy waves crash against the rocky shore. He scrutinized the rugged coastline, mentally mapping their exact position on the vast expanse of both sea and land.

"What do we do now, sir?" Octavius asked, his brow furrowed with concern as the salty breeze tugged at his tunic.

“We are in enemy territory along the coastline, and we must avoid coming too close to the shore, as their ships could easily spot us. The army camp should be nearby, and I'm certain they will send an inspection team. We cannot dally; we need to keep moving.”

Suddenly, they heard the neighing of horses approaching and instinctively took an alert position. Then, several arrows were fired at them, striking two of the soldiers.

“Sir!” one of the soldiers shielded his general, as Marcus and Octavius were without armor or swords. Octavius rushed to the other wounded soldier but found that both were dead. He quickly grabbed their swords and called out to Marcus as he threw one toward him.

“Acacius!”

Marcus deftly caught the sword and cut through one of the dismounted attackers as he ran toward Octavius. More adversaries, armed with swords, charged at them. One of them shouted, “Leave no survivors!”

There were eight fully equipped opponents. However, they stood little chance against Marcus and Octavius, who were unarmored. The two soon managed to defeat their adversaries. Octavius had just pressed his sword to the throat of the man he believed to be their leader when Marcus intervened.

“Who are you? Who sent you?” Marcus demanded.

Octavius stomped his foot on the man's arm, pressing down on his wound. The man groaned in pain. “The general asked you a question! Speak!” Octavius growled.

“Romans,” the man spat defiantly. “It doesn't matter if you kill me; you've already lost. Soon, you will lose your lavish city too.”

Octavius bent down, grabbed him by the collar, and shook him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Speak!"

When the man resisted, he punched him repeatedly in the face. Marcus preferred to watch coldly.

The man spoke, his lips trembling as blood trickled down the side of his mouth. "I'm saying that our navy, which you underestimate, is preparing to lay siege to your city."

Marcus and Octavius exchanged glances. The man grinned and said, "But I don't think you will live long enough to see it. You won't stand a chance in our lands."

"I think you are mistaken," Marcus said. "You're the one who won't see it. Maybe not today and maybe not tomorrow, but one day, I, Marcus Justus Acacius, shall exact my retribution, destroy all of your fleets, conquer your city, and annex all of your lands into the greatness of Rome; Carthage will be wiped out of history."

The man’s eyes widened in disbelief, but not due to the threat or the confidence in his voice. Instead, the mention of his name made him realize who he was.

"You... how is it possible that you are still alive?" he exclaimed, reaching for the belt around his waist and swiftly drawing out a knife, intending to plunge it into him.However, Marcus was more agile. He grasped the man's wrist, which was holding the knife, and thrust it into the man's throat with it. The man breathed his last, choking on his own blood.

“Why was he so surprised? I don’t like this, sir,” Octavius said.

Marcus brow furrowed as his gaze pierced the distant trees and hills.

“There are undoubtedly more soldiers lurking in the area. We can’t stay here any longer; we must escape now,” he insisted, urgency driving his words.

“What’s the plan? How do we get back to Rome? It’s impossible without a ship."

“Who said we’re going back without a ship?” Marcus retorted. “Didn’t you hear him? Their fleet is gathering to prepare for a siege on the city. If we can just reach the harbor, there might be a glimmer of hope for us. But first, We need a disguise.” He turned sharply to the soldier beside him.

“Remove your armor and put on the clothes of one of those men,” Marcus ordered. “We must shed every piece of evidence that marks us as Romans, or we’ll never make it out alive.”

As Marcus donned the cloak of one of the dead soldiers, his thoughts were consumed by you. He couldn’t help but worry about what would happen to you and your children if the city fell to the enemy fleet before he could reach you. The troubling possibilities weighed heavily on him; he needed to get to Rome as soon as possible, but he knew the journey would be dangerous and difficult.

As the days dragged on without him, a heavy silence enveloped your heart. Initially, there was a flicker of hope that he would return, but an overwhelming sorrow settled in as the latest news trickled in. Shadows of doubt loomed large in your mind, whispering fears of what if he was truly gone. Yet, in the deepest recesses of your soul, a powerful conviction remained: he was alive, and you could feel it with every fiber of your being.

The agony of not being able to reach him, to offer solace, or to venture forth in search of him was an unbearable weight. Each day passed like an eternity. The sun would stream through your window, casting warm rays that illuminated your bed, yet the light felt cold and distant. Every breath you took without him was a reminder of the hollow space he once filled, each inhalation a sharp pang of longing.

You ached to flee from the Villa, to escape the desolation that surrounded you. Without him, it transformed into a forsaken dungeon, trapped in time—abandoned, ruined, and echoing with memories that only deepened your sorrow.

Every morning, you found yourself making the familiar journey to the bustling harbor of Ostia, the salty breeze carrying whispers of hope as you scanned the horizon for the familiar silhouette of a ship bearing the Legion III flag. Cato and Decima were sharing this ritual with you, but as the days drifted by without a sign of your men, Decima's optimism began to wane. Yet, you clung to hope like a lifeline, for returning to the villa felt like walking into a void, a space only filled by soothing presence of your children, who kept you anchored amidst the uncertainty.

Nights loomed like heavy shadows, each minute stretching into eternity as you sat in your dimly lit room after tucking the children into bed. The silence pressed in on you, amplifying the absence of Marcus. In the stillness, his silhouette seemed to haunt the corners of your mind, merging with fading memories that flickered like candle light. You often found yourself sitting on the cold, hard floor, wrapped in the ache of longing as you imagined where he might be sleeping—if he was sleeping at all. The gnawing worry clawed at your insides; was he injured? Did he need you?  The warmth of your bed, which had once promised solace, felt foreign and unwelcoming now. It once a sanctuary, had turned into a cruel reminder of his absence. You chose to forgo its embrace, opting instead for the rough comfort of the lectus, resolute in your determination to wait for his return, refusing to surrender to sleep until he was back in your arms.

That morning, as you were getting ready in your room to head to Ostia, there was a knock at the door. Decima entered with your permission, her face pale and drawn, betraying a deep discomfort.

“What troubles you, dear?”

“My stomach,” she murmured, her hand instinctively resting on her slightly rounded belly. It was true; she was carrying a child, and it was common for her to experience such ailments in this time.

You guided her to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Don’t come with me today. Stay here with the children and rest.”

Desperation flickered in her eyes as she grasped your hand tightly. “Aurelia, can’t you consider not going either? We’ve made that journey to Ostia six days in a row, only to return disheartened, adding to our suffering. I’m so tired; I can’t bear it anymore…” Her voice cracked as tears spilled down her cheeks. You nestled beside her, wrapping your arms around her.

“I understand your pain, but if we give up hope, what do we have left? They are alive; we must summon our strength for them and for our little ones,” you assured her, your voice steady.

“This is the only flicker of hope I have left,” she said, her hand on her belly.  “But we have to brace ourselves for the other possibility, you know.”

You rose from the bed, “No, there is no other option.”

“Aurelia—”

“Decima, please. He is alive; I can feel it,” you declared, picking up Marcius and inhaling the sweet scent of his curly hair. “I’m not in denial about this; I can’t explain it, but I just know it.”

She let out a heavy sigh, a sound filled with fatigue and resignation. You leaned down to plant a soft kiss on the tiny head of your daughter, peacefully sleeping on the bed, her dreams untouched by the cruel world outside. Then, with resolve, you draped your palla over your head, securing it around your arm.

“You rest here. I’ll return before nightfall,” you promised.

“Please take care of yourself,” she whispered, a tremor of worry in her voice.

You offered her a weak smile, a flicker of reassurance. “You too.”

As you went down the stairs, Tullia was waiting at the bottom, her eyes all watering. She begged you not to go, her voice wobbly with desperation, but you ignored her, just like you did every day. It was a familiar routine, and it was getting you nowhere. Everyone around you looked sad, and the air felt heavy and thick with sadness. This only made you angry.

“What is this sorrowful expression of yours?” you asked, your voice sharp. “Is someone dead? General, your master is still alive; he is not gone! How quickly have you all accepted defeat? How swiftly have you convinced yourselves of his demise? No, as your Domina, I refuse to allow this despair. There will be no more crying and no more sulking. I forbid it, do you understand?”

They nodded slowly, their heads bowed in compliance. You walked out of the courtyard and into the open air, where the world felt colder and more unforgiving. There, you spotted Cato by the carriage, which stood ready and waiting like a silent sentinel. This daily ritual had become all too familiar. Every morning, he arrived to escort you, and each time, you would ask if there was any news. When he responded with a slow shake of his head, a fresh wave of pain crashed over you, as if the wound had been reopened without mercy.

You found yourself teetering on the edge of endurance, desperately clinging to the fragile thread of hope. All you needed was the slightest indication that he was still alive—a whisper, a flicker of life. That’s why you journeyed to the harbor each day without fail; it was a pilgrimage fueled by the relentless ache in your heart. But as time went on, it felt like the whole universe was working against you. Every moment felt like an eternity, as if the world was determined to break your spirit.

As you stood at the harbor, the familiar salt-laden breeze swept around you, mingling with the weight of your unspoken grief. Each day, this spot had become both a sanctuary and a prison. A heavy sigh escaped your lips, giving way to silent tears that traced paths down your cheeks. From a distance, Cato watched, his heart heavy. Every day, he stood witness to your struggle, feeling the pull of your pain deep within himself. A soldier by trade, he had learned to temper his hopes with grim realism, but his heart ached with the longing to believe that everything would be alright. His thoughts were consumed by the mission entrusted to him by his general—to protect his own family, no matter the cost.

You were oblivious to the arrival of the carriage coming up close to you, its wheels crunching over gravel while the waves crashed rhythmically against the shore. The world around you had lost its vibrancy in his absence; it felt as if a curse hung in the air, draining the life from all that surrounded you.

Suddenly, the echo of footsteps broke through your reverie, pulling you from your spiraling thoughts. You turned to find Geta standing beside you, his expression serious as he draped a white, fancy shawl over your shoulders. The gentle weight of the shawl felt comforting amid your turmoil.

He had a point; the wind was biting, but nothing compared to the fiery pain you felt deep down.

“Why did you come here?” you asked, meeting his gaze.

“I should ask you the same thing. Standing on the edge of the harbor day after day—don’t you think it’s a bit reckless?”

“It’s hard to stay at home,” you replied, adjusting his shawl around your shoulders and clutching the fabric tighter as if seeking solace in its warmth.

“Then you should have told me. I would have come with you,” he said.

“Should I really have invite the great emperor to stand here idly with his sister for no reason? You have an empire to rule, and your family needs you,” you murmured.“Family? Hah!” He let out a bitter laugh that echoed against the waves. “You are my family. Marcius and my little niece—are my family.”

“Brother,” you whispered. “You have a wife and a child. You can’t just ignore them. Publius is your son; he needs his father.”

“I don’t ignore him,” he replied firmly, although the weight of his words seemed to hang in the air. “I love him just as much as I love Marcius.”

“And Nerissa? The rumors I hear about you two aren’t good. Are you paying enough attention to your wife?”

“I’m going to divorce her,” he said, his voice chillingly devoid of emotion.

“What did you just say?” you asked, stunned.

“Not right away, but I can’t stay married to her,” he continued, his expression hardening. “She’s become someone I no longer recognize. I can’t stand her being around me.”

“Tell me what happened,” you insisted.

He shook his head and looked into your eyes. There was sadness in his gaze, revealing the many things he wanted to say but couldn’t. His expression made you uneasy, because you recognized that look—the kind a man gives a woman when he feels deeply. It was the kind of look that compelled you to look away immediately.

“Aurelia, I—”

Suddenly, a horn echoed through the air, jolting you from your thoughts. The sound was unmistakable, sending a thrill down your spine. Instinctively, you turned your gaze toward the vast expanse of the sea.

In the distance, silhouettes of battle-weary ships emerged on the horizon, their sails billowing gracefully as they glided closer to the shore. The rhythmic crash of waves against their hulls accompanied their steady approach, creating a spellbinding sense of anticipation.

A surge of joy coursed through your veins, igniting a spark of hope that blossomed within you at the thought of his return.

“Finally,” Geta said, smiling at you, and you smiled back, perhaps for the first time in days. Within an hour, the partially damaged ships approached the shore and anchored. As each soldier stepped ashore, you felt growing excitement. However, your joy soon faded when you realized that the number of soldiers disembarking very less. The soldiers waiting on the other ships were not many either. It was devastating to witness the fleet's severe damage and significant losses firsthand.

A little later, the centurion Varus must have received the news, as he was one of those who arrived at the harbor. He was surprised to recognize you, but he stepped toward you with determination.

“Where is your general?” Geta asked the soldiers. The soldiers appeared tired, wounded, and deeply saddened. They were too grief-stricken to look at either his face or yours.

“It’s just us and the others on the ship, Your Majesty. We are outnumbered by no more than three thousand soldiers, many of whom died in the attack. We believe that the general and Sir Octavius were among them.”

"How could you come back without your general?" You shouted.

"It was a direct order from him, my lady. Either we stay there and perish, or we retreat. We've been through hell." The soldier’s words echoed in your mind, heavy as stone.

"You did the right thing, soldier," Varus said, his tone firm. Yet, you could sense a hint of relief in his voice.

Suddenly, your knees buckled, and you sank to the gravelly ground, feeling the sharp stones bite into your skin.

"Aurelia!" Geta exclaimed anxiously, dropping beside you.

"My lady!"

Geta fiercely pushed Varus' hand away as it reached out, wanting to touch you.

Cato rushed to your side, leaning in with an urgency.

"My lady, let me take you back home," he implored, but the words felt distant, floating away like the lost hopes within you.

You lacked the strength to respond; tears streamed down your cheeks, each drop a testament to the profound hurt that gripped your heart. Crushed under the weight of despair, the last remnants of hope were carried away on the calm winds howling across the shore.

Geta put his arm around you, his presence a quiet anchor amidst the storm raging within you. He brushed his fingers gently against your tear-streaked face, offering solace as he helped you rise.

"You should return to the villa now, Aurelia. Would you like me to accompany you?" he asked softly, concern lacing his voice.

Varus cleared his throat, a sound filled with urgency. "Your Majesty, there’s something we must discuss. You pledged to await the fleet’s return, and now that it has arrived, I trust you will take the necessary steps to select a new general."

You narrowed your eyes at him, fury simmering just beneath the surface.

"Not now, Varus," Geta interjected sharply, gesturing for him to leave, his protectiveness radiating like a shield around you.

“I understand your pain, and I am truly sorry for your loss,”  he said, not sounding very sincere. Only made you angrier. “But my thoughts are with the state of our army and the safety of our city—”

“It’s not just you; I’m thinking about it too, so you don’t need to worry. Right now, I must be there for my sister during her moment of grief, and frankly, you’re the last person I want to see.” The sharpness of his words hung in the air, leaving Varus visibly unsettled. He lowered his gaze in anger, then turned and walked away in silence.

“I’m sorry, Aurelia, but Acacius...” Geta paused, drawing in a shaky breath as if unsure how to say it properly. “As difficult as it’s been—and I genuinely know it is—I believe it’s time for me to accept the truth.”

“Please,” you whispered, your voice cracking like brittle glass. “Don’t say anything more; it’s only adding to my pain."

"I know, forgive me."

"I want to go home.” You said faintly.

“Alright, then, let me accompany you. I can't leave you alone like this,” he said.

You nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks, unstoppable and raw.

During several distressing days spent as refugees in the bustling streets of Carthage—the very city they had intended to conquer—Marcus, Octavius and the other soldiers were forging a plan for their perilous return to Rome. Their initial strategy was to infiltrate the merchant ships sailing toward the island of Sicily. However, there was a significant problem: the harbor, alive with the sounds of creaking planks and crashing waves, was dominated by ominous warships—hundreds of them. Clearly, merchant ships could not sail for the time being. In truth, the man they had slain had spoken with grim accuracy—Carthage was preparing to unleash its might upon Rome.

With a pressing time limit, the group knew they had to procure a small dinghy or boat under the cover of darkness to reach Drepanum. Stripped of coins and valuables, they relied on their training as soldiers and the fierce camaraderie that bound them together. That day, they pressed on to the coastal city of Clypea, seeking the promise of a less fortified harbor where the air was thick with salt and desperation.

As dusk enveloped the city like a shroud, they found refuge in a dimly lit tavern, hoping for a place to rest. The scent of roasted meat mingled with the sharp tang of spilled wine as they overheard snippets of anxious conversations from nearby tables. The locals, their faces drawn with worry, whispered tales of the imminent siege preparations by their army. Fear rippled through the air like a storm, as they suspected that Elagabalus might betray their trust. Yet, a flicker of hope remained—many believed that the sinking of Roman ships and the loss of soldiers were signs of weakness. Most importantly, the loss of their great General Acacius could become a significant advantage in their struggle against Rome.

Octavius and the other soldiers clenched their fists upon hearing their conversation, while Marcus was the only one who smiled when his name was mentioned. As they listened, it was hard for them to remain quiet, but they needed to keep a low profile. He knew that if Elagabalus reached Rome with the Carthaginian fleet before they did, Marcus would have little chance to save his city. He had to get home—for his wife, for his family, for his emperor, and for Rome.

At dawn's quietude, they set out on their bold quest to steal a lone boat with a single sail from the peaceful harbor. Though its leisurely pace paled in comparison to that of a sturdy ship, it provided the subtlety they desperately needed. The boat glided across the shimmering waters, and nearly a day later, they finally stepped onto the sun-kissed shores of Sicily.

From that point on, their journey became treacherous. Traveling on foot across the rugged terrain, without the speed of a horse, would stretch their journey into days, perhaps even weeks. They maneuvered through the territory of Syracuse, a Roman ally.

Desperation clawed at them as they decided to find horses. In a hurry and lacking peaceful options, they resorted to force. They ambushed the owner of the horses. Marcus, torn between courage and guilt, promised the man that he would one day repay the debt. However, the man, trapped in despair and fear, yelled and protested loudly, his cries echoing in the still morning air. Ultimately, they had no choice but to silence him, tying him up as they fled into the uncertain horizon.

After journeying with the horses up to the Strait of Messina—just as the Roman navy arrived at the port of Ostia—they had to find a way to cross to the other side of the land. Unable to take the horses with them, they had to leave them behind, which meant a few more days would be required to reach Rome. Capua was a significant stop along the way to their destination. Octavius’ family resided there, would allow them to gather all necessary supplies like food, suitable clothing, and horses.

Upon arriving in Capua, they stepped into a tavern to rest, feeling quite fatigued from their travels. "My family's home isn't far from here. We can get what we need," Octavius said as the tavern owner served them their drinks. "What should we do after then, sir?"

Marcus sipped his wine. "We still have a considerable distance to get to Rome. Additionally, we need to find the nearest army headquarters."

“There’s the Iulia Alpina legion just outside the city,” another soldier said.

“Indeed. We must head to their camp. Commander Quintus knows me; he will be able to assist us,” Marcus said, his resolve strengthening. “From there, we can send word to Geta.”

They nodded in agreement.

Suddenly, the heavy wooden door of the tavern swung open, and a raucous group of men stormed in, their animated chatter filling the dimly lit room. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls as one man leaned in closer to his companions.

“Did you hear the news? They’ve chosen Verus as general to replace General Acacius,” he murmured, a hint of disbelief lingering in his tone.

The second man shook his head, a pained expression crossing his face. “He was a good commander, a man of honor. It’s a tragedy. May the gods welcome him into Elysium’s embrace,” he intoned solemnly, raising a cup in a silent toast.

A skeptical chuckle escaped the first man’s lips. “Verus can’t even hold a candle to him. No one can match his prowess on the battlefield,” he retorted, the edge of resentment sharp in his voice.

Seated in a shadowy corner, Octavius felt a surge of indignation welling within him. He shifted in his chair, ready to spring to his feet when Marcus, placed a hand on his arm, restraining him.

“Sir, what are they saying? How can this be?”

“Calm down, Octavius,” Marcus urged, glancing around cautiously. “They must believe we’re dead.”

“But you’re not dead! We’re not dead! We can’t let this nonsense continue!” Octavius protested, fury igniting his voice. “How could Geta possibly choose Varus?”

Marcus sighed, “It must be the council’s decision. They need a leader; the army can’t function without one,” he explained, his voice subdued yet firm.

“Still, it reeks of injustice,” the soldier said, his disappointment evident as he shook his head. “You are still a general, and this is gravely unfair.”

“Now, Varus has the influence and power to manipulate things in his favor. Geta is in jeopardy now more than ever. We must return to Rome—time is of the essence,” Marcus declared, determined.

Breathing... Could it really hurt just to breathe? But it did hurt you. It felt as if there were countless wounds in your lungs that grew larger with each breath. The pain you experienced was indescribable. You cried so much that you woke up in the morning with the dried remnants of last night's tears on your cheeks. Crying was all you could do; you tried to appear happy to avoid frightening Marcius. Every time he babbles "da-da," a word he used for his father, he did so without grasping the reality of his father's absence. As you watch him, you were feeling the weight of your emotions, struggling to hold back tears while biting your lips so hard that they almost bled.

Everyone around you—Cato, Felix, Decima, Norell, Geta, Lucius, who visited occasionally, your aunt Antonia, even Tullia—was telling you to stop waiting for him to return.

But you were refusing. Somewhere deep down, you knew that he was alive, you could still feel his heart beating. It was a strange sensation, but it was undeniable. How could you possibly ignore that feeling? He would return—maybe it would take months or even years, but he would come back. It might seem ridiculous, but you were certain he will return.

His words reverberated softly in your mind repeatedly. ‘You will live, my love. For our son, for our daughter, and for me.’ Yet, the weight of this promise felt almost unbearable. The ache in your chest was so profound that it seemed to steal the very breath from your lungs. Without his plea echoing in your heart, the agony would consume you entirely. It seemed so easy to surrender to death, but enduring the excruciating burden of this pain felt insurmountable, a dark shadow that loomed over every moment of your existence.

You may have shed many tears for Marcus, but all of Rome shared your grief. The citizens and city authorities of the Empire bestowed many honors upon General Acacius, and it was decided by Geta that appropriate ceremonies should be held to mourn his death. Temples, baths, and shops closed their doors as his loved ones wept inconsolably. In memory of his honorable and victorious life, a mausoleum was to be erected in the harbor of Ostia (this was customary for generals or centurions whose bodies could not be found). In two days, a ceremony was organized to commemorate the soldiers and their general who had died at sea. People, members of the Senate and their wives, and the relatives of the deceased soldiers all came to you to offer their condolences. You were grateful to everyone, but this only intensified your pain and made your loss feel more tangible.

Since you still didn’t believe you had truly lost him, the ceremony was almost unbearable, and you wanted to escape—it was all too much. What finally drove you away was the sight of Varus in his new outfit, who had just been declared General. He was dressed in leather armor featuring a gold-embroidered head of a Medusa on the front, with a red shawl cascading down from his shoulders. He looked just like Marcus, but he was not him. No matter how they referred to him, he wasn’t your general, and he never could be; no one ever could. Seeing someone like him wearing Marcus' familiar outfit left you feeling unsettled. Your heart raced uncontrollably, and the world around you blurred as nausea threatened to take hold. In your moment of distress, Cato and Decima rushed to your side, gently guiding you toward the carriage while you struggled to regain your composure.

Each step toward the waiting carriage was a struggle against the weight of your burden. Just as the world around you began to blur, your legs faltered beneath you, and darkness enveloped you like a thick fog, erasing all traces of light and consciousness.

Aurelia...

That whisper, that voice... As you opened your eyes, you found yourself on the desolate shore of a dark and stormy sea, waves crashing violently against the rocks. The air was thick with the scent of salt and rain, and Marcus' voice echoed all around you, haunting yet comforting, but he was nowhere to be seen. Panic surged within you as you searched the horizon.

Then, you spotted him—Marcus stood resolutely on the opposite shore, his charm as captivating as ever. Your heart raced at the sight of him, yet a deep chasm lay between you.

“Marcus, my love, I knew you weren't gone!” you cried out, tears streaming down your cheeks. "I knew you hadn't left me!" You swiftly wiped them away with the back of your hand, yearning to take in the familiar contours of his face that you longed for. But despite your desperate steps forward, the fierce ocean current repelled you, the waves rising like formidable walls.

The storm swirled around you, the howling wind almost drowning out your plea. “I’ll return to you soon, my princess,” he promised, his voice a melodic whisper that cut through the tempest.

Joy ignited a smile on your lips even as tears continued to flow. But just as swiftly, the tempest intensified, and in a blink, Marcus vanished, along with the light of your happiness.

The distant chirping of birds broke the spell, pulling you back to reality, stark and unforgiving. It was a jarring contrast to the heartache that gripped you. You understood you were lost in a dream, yet you hesitated to open your eyes, clinging to the hope of seeing him again. But like sand slipping through your fingers, the dream faded away, and you returned to a reality heavy with sorrow.

When you opened your eyes, you realized Geta was sitting next to you, looking at you with concern.

“Aurelia? Are you awake?”

You turned your head and glanced around the room; you were in your chamber at the Domus Severiana, another place filled with memories of Marcus. How wonderful.

“Why am I here?” you asked, frowning.

“I was very concerned about your condition. I wanted Lucius to see you,” he replied. He picked up a tray of food from the table and brought it to you. “Please eat something; you need to take care of yourself. You've lost a lot of weight—just look at you.”

“I don't have any appetite, brother,” you confessed, turning your head away.

“Then, as your emperor, I order you to eat this now,” he said, a playful smile creeping across his lips, trying to lighten the somber atmosphere.

He was trying to elicit a smile from you, and you appreciated that. Yet, despite your best efforts, you couldn't manage a smile.

“Thank you, brother, really, but I must go,” you murmured, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, the cold floor meeting your feet.

He quickly stood, an impetuous glint in his eye, and gently guided your shoulders back down. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“But Marcius and my daughter—”

“You must regain your strength first; otherwise, you’ll be no good to them. If you eat, I’ll let you go.”

“Geta, please... I can’t stay here,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, the weight of your worries pressing down on you.

“Then eat. Do you want me to spoon-feed you? Look, I’ve never done this for anyone before, so appreciate it. You're lucky to have a brother like me,” he said, grinning.

“Well, if you won’t let me leave without eating…” you murmured.

“That's right,” he replied, settling down next to you on the bed, a teasing glimmer in his eyes.

“Now, come on, open your mouth,” he urged. You hesitated but eventually opened your mouth just enough to accept the morsel and began chewing slowly.

With determination, he managed to get you to eat the food on the plate, and a smile of triumph appeared on his face.

“Enough, I'm going to be sick,” you said as he handed you more food.

“Well, at least I saw you eat something,” he replied with a chuckle. “I wish I could see you smile.” He sighed deeply. “You know, I really miss seeing that beautiful smile of yours.”

“Thank you for being there for me, brother. But I really have to go.”

“Come on, Aurelia, stay here one more night, and tomorrow I'll take you myself, I promise.”

“One more night? I stayed here last night?”

“Well, yes. I might have asked Lucius to give you something to help you relax,” he confessed sheepishly.

“You did what? I’ve been here for two days? How could you do that?” Your words spilled out, sharp and tinged with disbelief.

“I did it for you!” he barked back, a flash of frustration crossing his face. “Lucius said you fainted—probably from malnutrition and sadness. You’re going to make yourself sick, and I can’t allow that. So please, just stay here tonight and leave tomorrow. Should I have Marcius and my little niece brought over?”

“No, I’ll go,” you insisted.

Geta grasped your wrist gently but firmly. “Please, Aurelia,” he implored, his eyes filled with a quiet desperation.

It was ironic how Nerissa had used that same word in her plea for you to leave before.

“I know exactly what will make you smile,” Geta declared confidently. “Stay right here; I will return shortly.” With that, he left the room.

You sat back on the bed, and no matter how much you tried to push it away, the memories of Marcus in this room kept flooding your mind. It formed a lump in your throat that was hard to swallow. A little later, Geta returned, managing to make you smile as he promised. He came back carrying your nephew, Publius, in his arms. Instinctively, you smiled widely when you saw his beautiful face.

“See? I told you I’d make you smile. This little man is the only one who can manage that for his aunt,” Geta declared, his eyes twinkling with pride.

You reached out and took Publius in your arms. He was right; he was the only one who could make you smile today.

“Aurelia,” Geta said as you stroked your nephew’s golden hair. “I know it’s hard right now, but you will get through this. You are the strongest woman I know, and believe me, I have known many.”

“I don’t know if that’s a consolation or just an attempt to flatter yourself,” you replied, half-joking.

He shrugged his shoulders, a playful grin forming on his lips. “I can’t change my past, but you are the biggest reason I’ve become the person I am today. You’re incredibly strong, fiercely loyal, and possess a heart of gold. You would do anything for those you love. I consider myself lucky to have you among them.”

“Geta…” you murmured, your heart swelling with gratitude.

“I know, I know—sentimentality is a lot for someone who tends to be full of himself. I failed at being emotional, didn’t I? Just forget it, it’s all—”

Suddenly, you hugged him. He was taken aback; he usually does that kind of thing.

“Thank you, brother. Your support means a lot to me,” you said.

He wrapped his arms around you. “I’ll always be there for you. I won’t let anything happen to you or your children. In his absence, you’ll be under my protection.”

“Your Majesty—”

You stepped back as soon as you heard Nerissa's voice. Her expression was a mix of confusion and anger. “I was looking for Publius...” she mumbled.

“I brought him here,” Geta replied, avoiding her gaze.

“I thought Lady Aurelia had left.” She glanced at you.

“My sister will stay here one more night,” he said, picking up Publius in his arms.

A little later, Lucius appeared at the door. “Your Majesty, my empress, my lady.” He looked at you and them. “I'll come back later if this is the wrong time—”

“Come in, Lucius,” Geta said, gesturing to him. “We were just leaving.” He turned to you. “Rest well, Aurelia.”

You nodded in response.

Geta grasped Nerissa's arm, and you ignored her piercing looks as they left the room together.

Lucius closed the door behind them.

“How are you feeling? Are you feeling better?”

“I'm not sure how I feel anymore,” you replied with a sigh.

"You looked as pale as a marble statue yesterday; you really should take better care of yourself."

"I see you're still in Rome," you murmured, deliberately dismissing the subtle suggestion in his words.

He placed the delicate cup of soothing herbal tea he had brought for you on the table, steam rising like Marcus’ memories swirling around the room.

"How can I possibly leave when you're feeling this way?" he asked.

"I'll be fine, Lucius," you insisted, your voice more confident than you felt.

He exhaled deeply. “I won't say anything to upset you, but I don't like seeing you this way. You should think of yourself, for your children's sake at least.”

You picked up the cup and glared at him. “I know, but it’s hard.”

Lucius knew you well, and you appreciated that he didn’t try to convince you of anything or comfort you as the others did.

“Just try,” he said before leaving the room.

At the break of dawn, the first light filtered through the mist, illuminating the sturdy tents of the Iulia Alpina legionary camp. Marcus and Octavius approached the entrance, the sound of their sandals crunching on gravel echoing in the quiet morning air. The soldier who had traveled with them had to stay at Octavius' family home because his wounds were worsening.

Two soldiers stepped forward as they neared them, their expressions a mixture of caution and suspicion.

“Halt! Identify yourselves,” one soldier demanded. Seeing them unarmed, he crossed his arms over his chest with confidence, blocking their path.

Octavius’s frustration bubbled beneath the surface, igniting a fire in his chest. How could mere soldiers question Marcus, a man who had once commanded the respect and admiration of the entire army? With clenched fists, he felt a surge of indignation at the thought of his general being reduced to an unknown visitor.

But where Octavius seethed, Marcus remained the embodiment of calm dignity. He reached for his finger, slipping off his intricately designed ring and presenting it to one of the soldiers. The metal glinted in the morning sun, a symbol of authority.

“Deliver this to Commander Quintus. He will recognize who I am,” Marcus instructed, his voice steady and assured.

The soldier hesitated, his brow furrowing as he examined the ring. “A Commander's ring? Where did you acquire this?”

“Did you steal it?” a second soldier asked.

Octavius erupted in anger, his voice like thunder. “How dare you say that!”

“Who the hell are you to raise your voice?” the first soldier shot back.

What is going on here?” another came behind them and asked, eyes widening in recognition as they landed on Marcus.

“Sir, these two wanted to see you—” the soldier began, but Commander Quintus silenced him with a wave of his hand.

“Return to your posts now!” he barked, authority ringing in his voice. “Come with me.” He gestured for Marcus and Octavius to follow him, the soldiers nodding in surprise as they complied.

Marcus reclaimed his ring, the weight of it in his hand a reminder of his past glories. He turned to the soldier, locking eyes with him. “What is your name, soldier?” he inquired, his tone now softer, almost conspiratorial.

The soldier frowned, taken aback by the unexpected question. “B-Balbus. Why do you ask?”

Placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, Marcus replied, “I’ll find you one day, Balbus.”

The young soldier quirked an eyebrow, puzzled by the familiarity, and a chill ran down his spine as he felt a strange shiver at the weight of Marcus’s words.

Commander Quintus stepped into his tent and waited for the others to arrive.

“Acacius! General!” he exclaimed, his voice a mixture of disbelief and relief. “How did you-? We heard you were dead. Just the other day, there was a ceremony…”

“Calm yourself, Quintus. I’ll explain everything,”

Quintus exhaled a deep breath. “Please, take a seat, General. Forgive my soldiers; they wouldn’t have acted this way if they had known who you were. I was too flabbergasted to reveal your identity in front of them—”

“Actually, you acted wisely. I need your help with something. We must return to Rome immediately. Our journey has stretched on for far too long.”

“Of course, but how did you survive that brutal attack? I’ve heard the stories—tens of thousands lost…” Quintus’s voice trailed off. "I can't even imagine..."

“I suppose the gods took pity on us,” Marcus muttered.

“They surely did. It’s a miracle you made it out alive,” Quintus said, shaking his head in awe.

"A miracle indeed," Octavius murmured.

“You mentioned a ceremony,” Marcus said, his brown eyes narrowing as he leaned forward.

“Yes, I attended it. Actually, I only arrived last night. I believe you heard about whom they appointed as general,” he said hesitantly. Marcus nodded in reply. “Varus looked rather smug in his new outfit.”

“I’m certain he did,” Marcus replied coldly. “Did you see anyone else?” He sighed before your name escaped his lips. “Lady Aurelia?”

“Yes, she was there,” he said, avoiding eye contact.

Marcus’s brow knitted in concern. “Did something happen to her?”

“She appeared distraught,” Quintus confessed, his voice dropping to a whisper. “She thinks her husband is dead, the poor lady.”

A heavy silence enveloped them, tightening around Marcus’s chest like a vise. “I must return at once,” he hissed.

Octavius placed a reassuring hand on Marcus’s back. “We will return, brother. Together.”

Quintus nodded, determination etched on his features. “I’ll provide you with my finest horses. You arrive in Rome in a day and a half,” he promised.

Marcus nodded.

“Sir,” a soldier called to Quintus from outside the tent.

“Come in,” Quintus replied.

The soldier saluted and handed him a piece of paper. “A message just arrived, sir, from Rome.”

“Alright, you can leave now,” Quintus replied, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. The soldier complied, saluting once more before exiting. Quintus turned to Marcus, his expression darkening. “It’s from General Varus.”

“Open it,” Marcus urged.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Quintus unfolded the paper. As his eyes scanned the lines, shock painted his features, and a breathless murmur escaped his lips. “How can this be?”

“What does it say?” Marcus asked, leaning closer.

“Commander Quintus,” Quintus read aloud, voice steady but tinged with disbelief, “in the name of the people of Rome, I summon your legions to Rome to assist me and my soldiers in arresting Emperor Geta.”

Marcus's brow furrowed as he examined the message and the seal beneath, then handed it over to Octavius.

“What the hell does he think he’s doing?” Quintus exclaimed, his voice rising with fury.

“He’s trying to place Elagabalus on the throne,” Marcus snarled.

“Is he betraying Emperor Geta now?” Octavius asked.

“That seems to have been his intention all along,” Marcus replied, clenching his fists tightly at his sides, frustration radiating from him like heatwaves. “How could I not have seen it?”

“He must have been the one who tipped off the enemy about our fleet's course,” Octavius added, his voice low yet charged with realization. “They knew exactly where we’d be. The target was you, General—the ship we were on.”

“You're right, Octavius. If I had recognized this earlier…” Marcus said, his voice trailing off as regret washed over him.

“Who could have guessed he would turn out to be such a despicable traitor?”

"We should have seen it, Octavius. If we had, none of this chaos would have unfolded," he replied with a stern look. "Perhaps our brothers would not now be in the depths of the damned sea," he added, the burden of grief heavy on his heart.

Octavius gently placed a hand on his shoulder, sharing in his sorrow and understanding his pain.“We have to leave immediately.” Marcus said then. “We cannot allow Varus to continue his malevolent schemes. If he places Elagabalus on the throne, it will spell disaster for all of Rome.”

“You're right. We have no time to lose.”

“I’ll prepare the horses, but Acacius, Varus has summoned me to the city. If I refuse, he may brand me a traitor,” Quintus said.

“You will go. You must fulfill your duty as a soldier. However, the fact that I am still alive must remain our secret.”

He nodded and left the tent.

“What are we going to do? You won’t be recognized as a general when you reach Rome,” Octavius asked.

“I will confront him and reclaim my rightful title, but before that, we must find a way to stop him. If they manage to capture Geta and place Elagabalus on the throne, we'll lose our chance for good, and with the sands of time slipping away, we cannot afford any delays."

“We have until their fleet reaches Ostia.”

“If Elagabalus is on that fleet.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it Octavius. If Varus didn’t wait for the fleet, he may have already allowed Elagabalus to sneak into the city,” he explained, dread lacing his words.

“Gods forbid! if we don’t make it in time—”

Marcus exhaled a heavy breath. “Then we will have truly lost…"

When you woke up in the morning, you heard footsteps just outside your chamber. Then, Geta entered your room with a big smile on his face, followed by the slaves carrying trays full of food. You looked at them with puzzled, sleepy eyes.

“What is happening?” you asked.

“I arranged for breakfast to be served in your room,” he replied, gesturing for the slaves to place the trays on the table.

“I can see that. May I ask why?”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on now. I just wanted us to have breakfast together. Get up and join me,” he said as he sat down at the table.

He was likely trying to make you feel better, but he was putting in a bit too much effort.

“Geta, I want to return home now,” you whined.

“Alright, alright, but I kindly ask that you join me for just one breakfast before we leave together,” he suggested earnestly.

You huffed. “Very well.”

After breakfast, Geta indicated his intention to proceed downstairs to arrange for the carriage, assuring that he would await your presence in the courtyard. Leaving the room was difficult, but going to the villa felt even harder. Marcus seemed to be everywhere; his memories were etched in every corner, and his beautiful face appeared wherever you looked. Today you felt more broken than yesterday; the pain remained, only now it felt bigger.

You couldn’t deny that Geta's support helped to ease the pain a bit. However, the problem was that every time you were alone after a moment of relief, the reality of Marcus’s absence struck you like a slap in the face. Each time it felt more violent, more jarring, and more hurtful. You didn’t know how to cope with the pain, and what was worse, you were sure it would linger with you for the rest of your life. All you could do was wait for him to return, just as he promised you in your dream. His return was your only medicine; the only thing that could heal you was feeling his presence again.

Upon your arrival in the courtyard, Geta greeted you with a warm smile. “Are you prepared to depart, sister?” he inquired, with genuine warmth in his tone.

You nodded in affirmation. “Yes, I am ready.”

“I’ve already missed Marcius and our little princess. It will do me good to see them.”

“Oh, that’s right, I never thanked you.”

“For what?” he asked.

“For giving your bracelets to Marcius.”

He smiled. “I wanted to give my nephew a gift worthy of a Roman prince.”

“A very suitable gift indeed,” you responded, returning his smile, feeling a brief lift in your spirits.

Just as you were about to exit, Darius entered the courtyard purposefully, his demeanor suggesting urgency. “Your Majesty! I was on my way to locate you.” His expression conveyed a sense of importance, and he was clearly catching his breath.

“What is the matter, Commander? Has something occurred?” he asked.

His brow knitted in concern as he looked around warily.

“Centurio- General Varus…” he gasped, struggling to catch his breath.

“What about him?”

“He's on his way here with his troops, Your Majesty,” he replied, a shadow of dread crossing his face.

“I beg your pardon?”

“With the intent to arrest you,” he continued, his tone grave.

“What?” you squeaked, feeling a chill run down your spine.

Geta stood frozen for a moment, shock rendering him speechless, his eyes darting with alarm.

“My men have managed to block them at the entrance to Palatine Hill, but their numbers are overwhelming. We won't be held off for long. We need to get you out of here—now.”

“How dare Varus commit this treachery?” he demanded, anger boiling within.

“We don’t know his motives, Your Highness. My men will escort you to the safe place we discussed earlier.” He unsheathed his sword with a schwing sound. “You must go with them immediately. And you too, my lady, follow His Majesty closely.”

“I need to go home!” you protested, panic threading through your voice.

“Aurelia, didn’t you hear? Varus has committed treason not only against me but against the entire imperial family."

"We suspect he may be colluding with Elagabalus,” Darius added.

A cold shiver coursed through you, your heart pounding against your ribcage. “Marcius... My son... I have to reach him now!”

“We will, but first we must escape this place!” Geta urged.

“This way, Your Majesty,” one of the guards pointed to a shadowy inner courtyard, the air thick with tension and urgency.

“Bring the Empress and my son!” Geta commanded.

“I’ll fetch them; you go ahead, please!” the other guard shouted urgently before he left your side.

Geta grabbed your wrist and dragged you into the shadowy corridors, following the clattering footsteps of the guards. Your heart was pounding like a drum, the sound of fear and panic filling your head as you thought of your son.

“Don’t worry,” Geta murmured, urgency lacing his words. “There’s a secret path winding from the tombs beneath Palatine Hill. It’s an escape route that Darius, Acacius, and I devised for emergencies like this.”

Your heart fluttered at the sound of his name. Whenever you were scared in situations like this, the confidence that he would come to your rescue always kept you calm. But now, he was absent, and you were left in the cruel grip of uncertainty. A chilling question gnawed at your mind: could these truly be the last moments of your life? You thought that death would be far less terrifying if it weren’t for your children. The thought of them being left fatherless and orphaned weighed heavily on you, and despair threatened to consume you. If they lost their mother too, what fate awaited them in this unforgiving world? You strained to push those dark thoughts aside, desperately trying to focus on the present moment.

The guards led you to the tombs, and one of them went to check if the exit was safe. You paused, waiting for his return to your side; you gazed at the statue of your father, and you silently prayed to be reunited with Marcus and to return safely to your children.

“Don’t pray to him; he won’t hear you,” Geta said.

You looked at him in shock.

“He never heard me. He wouldn’t have heard me even when he was still alive.”

"How do you mean?"

“Caracalla and I were merely heirs to him. He didn’t see us as sons; perhaps we weren’t worthy in his eyes. I can’t say. But he had one true child, and that was you. He loved only you,” he declared, his voice growing thick with a storm of emotions.

“Geta, what are you—”

“I held my silence before because, at first, it was simply jealousy. But the more I learned about you, the clearer it became why he cherished you so deeply. Caracalla’s anger only grew in tandem.” He put his hand on Caracalla’s bust, on his shoulder. "The reason they called us evil twins was that’s exactly what we were. Our father played a significant role in that; he was a soldier, a commander who viewed us as his soldiers. He often beat Caracalla, and I would shield him to protect him, but sometimes, I was too scared and just watched. He even believed that Caracalla's height was his fault. He never loved us, Aurelia, and I know he didn’t love my mother either. He must have preferred you and your mother," he said, laughing bitterly. "I don’t hold it against you—please don’t misunderstand. But if he had treated us well and given us a father’s love, maybe Caracalla wouldn’t have become so angry or fooled to believe someone like Macrinus. I think he loved Rome more than he loved us, even more than he loved you, since he sent you, his most precious, away."

Tears began to flow down your cheeks, as you were already on the verge of crying. "I didn't know. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. Even though he's my brother, he deserved to die. It was either Rome or him. But Acacius... Now you see why we consistently sent Acacius to war—to push him into taking action. We even threw him into the Colosseum several times to see if he was worthy of commanding the army. Just for fun.” He confessed. “We despised my father so much that we wanted to destroy everything he had built for Rome. Caracalla, in particular, was intent on this destruction, even if it meant starving the people to death. However, I now realize how wrong we were. Acacius, that honorable man, had to endure our actions for years. We never considered his situation; to us, he was merely an expendable servant." He exhaled. “Everything changed when you came into our lives. First, you healed Acacius, and then you healed me, both body and soul. You entered both of our hearts. But what truly matters is how you healed Rome, how you became a precious part of her. You are the heart of Rome.” He gently caressed your cheek, his hand trembling with a mix of regret and affection. “Yet now, your heart aches because of me. Forgive me for failing to protect him. I should have had Elagabalus eliminated rather than merely banished. This burden of guilt is all mine."

"Blaming yourself won’t alter the outcome. But Acacius is not dead; I hold that belief deep in my soul."

"I sincerely hope you're right, sister.”

A few hurried footsteps echoed through the dimly lit corridor, breaking the tense silence. Nerissa appeared, carrying Publius in her arms.

"What’s the situation?" Geta asked the guards.

“Your Majesty, the troops have encircled Domus Severiana,” one guard replied, his voice steady despite the chaos outside. “We must leave immediately.” He glanced anxiously at a fellow guard. “And where is Drusus?”

“He went to scout the exit, but he hasn’t returned yet, sir,” came the worried response.

“Regardless, we have to move. Your Majesty, stay close.”

“Lead the way, then,” Geta said, pulling Nerissa to one side and you to the other. Together, you pressed forward, the sound of your footsteps echoing against the cold stone walls.

You had never ventured this far from the tombs and had no idea there was an escape route. The darkness wrapped around you like a shroud, and the presence of an escape route was a startling revelation. Marcus must have carefully crafted a plan to safeguard everyone before his departure. As you recalled that he had experienced sleepless nights months ago, you understood the reasons behind his anxiety. But what did it accomplish for you, other than keeping you apart?

You continued onward, trying to suppress your anger. You needed to get out of here and reach the villa as soon as possible.

After walking down an endless corridor, you reach a wooden door that opens to the outside. One of the guards drew his sword, approached the door, and slowly opened it. Just as he stepped outside, he was attacked. During the ensuing clash, other guard was ambushed by a man wearing a cloak, similar to the first attacker. Geta quickly pulled you and Nerissa back. The air was thick with tension as the chilling sound of steel clashing echoed through the corridor. Moments later, both guards lay lifeless on the floor, their life force drained, leaving only a gnawing panic coursing through your veins as the attackers advanced, their swords aimed at you.

In a shocking turn, Nerissa released her grip on Geta's hand and stepped forward, her movement very calm, which left you astonished.

“Nerissa, what are you doing?” Geta shouted.

Yet, she remained silent, standing defiantly beside the attackers, her gaze locked onto Geta with intensity.

“The time for revenge has come, Your Majesty, or should I say, my husband?”

Geta narrowed his eyes. “What does that mean? Do you know these men?” 

“I overheard everything when you planned this escape route. They were waiting for you here.” She smiled cruelly.

"Why the hell-"

“You thought I would never find out, didn’t you?” She snapped.

“What are you talking about? I don't-”

“I know how you had my mother and father killed!”

Geta appeared taken aback but maintained his composure. “You knew? All this time, why didn’t you confront me?”

“I found out. Elagabalus revealed everything to me.”

“That bastard doesn’t know shit! Did you truly believe his words?”

“Why did you do it?” Nerissa barked, her voice filled with fury. “Why?” Another bark followed. Publius began to cry, and she handed him to the man beside her. “Get him to the place we discussed,” she ordered, and he nodded in response.

“Where the hell are you taking my son?” Geta shouted, but the other man pointed his sword at him, halting his advance. In a panic, you grabbed Geta's shawl.

“All those years... I stood by your side through it all and obeyed your every command. How could you betray me like this?”

“Nerissa, it was Caracalla who was behind it,” you said. “Geta—”

Geta grabbed your hand and pulled you behind him. “Don’t, Aurelia. This is between us.”

Nerissa laughed. “Between us? I thought there was nothing between us. All this time, I was in love with you. I believed in you, I trusted you, and I hoped that maybe you would love me for the sake of our son. But what did you do? You fell in love with your sister!" She barked as she looked at you. "Do you recognize these people? They came from Athens just to take their revenge, which Elagabalus promised us.”

The men pushed back their hoods, revealing their faces. These were the Greeks from the wedding. Nerissa asked for his sword, and he gave it to her. Then she walked toward Geta, who didn't even flinch, seemed frustrated, realizing he had been fooled all this time—just like you. Both of you are petrified.

"My mother and father came to Rome just to speak to you and your brother. Why did you have them killed? Did you enjoy hiding the truth from me? Did you laugh behind my back while I was foolishly serving you without knowing anything? You took pleasure in having me after you killed them, didn’t you? That’s who you are!"

“No, that's not true!” Geta shouted.

“Caracalla wanted to kill them in front of you, to make you watch. I prevented him. Yes, I let them be killed, and I don’t deny that. But I kept it from you because I knew how devastated you would be. I was afraid you’d do something reckless and get yourself killed. I cared for you; I wanted you by my side. I was trying to protect you from Caracalla.”

"Yet you pushed me into his bed."

Geta squeezed his eyes shut, a look of regret on his face. "I had to, and I'll never forgive myself for it, but he would have killed you for sure if I hadn't. You know what he was like - his anger was unlike mine; it blinded him."

"So you did it to protect me? Then why didn't you love me? Was it so hard?" Nerissa's eyes began to fill with tears.

"I wanted to, I really tried,” Geta murmured. "But I cared for you, Nerissa." His tone was sincere. “I still do.”

A few footsteps approached from behind you, causing the men to tense up in that direction.

"My lady, we must leave at once. The ship is ready and waiting to sail," someone urged Nerissa.

Nerissa shot another deadly glance at Geta. "I don’t believe you. Whatever you say or do, it won't change what you've done."

Geta nodded and spread his arms wide. "Go ahead then. Do what you must."

"No!" you shouted, grabbing his arm. "Geta, what are you doing?"

"Let her do it, Aurelia. I deserve it."

You looked at Nerissa. "Please, Nerissa, stop! Revenge won't bring your mother and father back! I know you love Geta. Do you really want your son to grow up without a father? What will you tell him one day when he asks about his father?"

“He will know what his father has done and will hate him. I will make sure of it!”

Geta held your hand and pulled you toward the exit. "You can kill me, but let Aurelia go. She has nothing to do with this, and you know that. She was always kind to you."

Nerissa narrowed her eyes."You value her life over your own. Even in your final moments, you think of her. You love her more than you ever loved me."

"Stop it and just do what you're going to do!" Geta barked.

The sounds were getting closer. Nerissa tried to thrust the sword, Geta, but her hands trembled when she looked him in the eye. One of the men seized the sword from her. “My lady, we’re out of time. Let me handle this.”

Nerissa handed him the sword. “Kill her first,” she said, glancing at you. “He’ll understand what I’m going through as he watches his most precious one die.”

You gasped as he brought the sword to your neck. You closed your eyes tightly, and Geta shouted, “NO!”

You whispered softly to yourself with your eyes closed, "Marcus, I love you.”

In the blink of an eye, a black shadow appeared before your eyelids, and you heard the sharp sound of a sword cutting through fabric and flesh. A choking sound, followed by a growl, and a few strands of hair grazed your cheek. When you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was Geta's blonde hair. Herd, and as you reached out to grab him, the weight and shock of the moment caused your knees to buckle, and you collapsed. The crown on Geta's head fell to the floor as he toppled backward onto you, the sound echoing through the stone corridor. But there was a more terrible sound. Geta had been hit hard by the sword in the stomach and blood was oozing from the cut. He was making choking noises, and his breathing was becoming increasingly difficult.

"No, no, no, no, no," You mumbled as you pressed both of your hands against his abdomen, where blood was gushing out.

“Aurelia!"

It was Lucius' voice, but you couldn't bring yourself to look at him. Geta's eyelids seemed to grow heavier by the second as he struggled to breathe.

Lucius hurled a knife at one of the men as he charged them. The blade struck the man in the chest, causing him to stagger backwards and fall. With remarkable speed and agility, Lucius deftly slashed at the other attacker with his sword. While you sobbed violently as Nerissa ran away in panic, seemingly unconcerned.

“Lucius! Please help me!” you cried, pressing your hands against Geta’s injury, but the blood continued to flow violently.

When Lucius noticed the blood pooling on the floor and realized it was also flowing down Geta's back, he scowled. The sword cut through him, and he realized it meant only one thing. "Aurelia..."

‘What should we do? Maybe if we stitch him up,’ you gasped.

Blood poured from Geta's mouth as he coughed, and more started to seep from the corner of his lips.

Lucius gently touched your cheek. “Aurelia...” As you looked into his blue eyes, you understood what he was implying, but you were unwilling to accept it.

“No, no, no! We can save him. Geta! Look at me!” You held his face in both hands, tears streaming down your cheeks.

His blood-stained lips curled into a smile. Coughing, "It's blissful..." "...to die..." he muttered, again coughing up blood, "...in your arms," rolling his eyes as his eyelids flitted open and shut.

"You're not going to die!“Look at me! No! No!” Your desperate cries reverberated against the cold, unforgiving stone walls, creating a haunting echo that felt as if it were mocking your pleas.

Lucius grabbed your shoulders and shook you. “Aurelia, we have to go now! The soldiers have entered the courtyard; they’ll be here soon! We don’t have time!”

You were engulfed in a haze of shock, your hands trembling as you shook Geta violently. “Geta!”

Yet, he remained unresponsive, his eyes closed in an unsettling stillness.

“He's gone, Aurelia,” Lucius’s voice cut through the silence, reverberating painfully in your ears. “He's dead,” he repeated his words a cruel echo of your own fears. “Let me save you.” With a sense of urgency, he wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you as if trying to carry you away from the heartbreaking scene.

“No, Lucius! He can't die! Please! GETA!” Desperation clawed at your throat as you fought against him, your sobs raw and choked. You reached out, stretching your hands toward Geta, as if the mere act of touching him could breathe life back into his still form. The atmosphere around you shifted as the metallic clang of soldiers' armour and the hurried tread of feet echoed down the corridor.

“Find them now!” a commanding voice boomed.

Lucius grasped your blood-soaked wrist in a desperate grip. "We must go now!"

Your body felt weak, a puppet torn from its strings, each sob dragging you further into the despair and aching throbbing of your loss.

"Hurry, Aurelia! We might have a chance if we take this path!" His voice urged you forward. But your legs felt weak, and you feared you would fall at any moment. It was all too overwhelming—too much pain and loss. Lucius stopped and looked at you, his expression earnest. "Aurelia, we have to get out of here now before the soldiers find us. Do you hear me? They were talking about arresting you. Think of your children. Think of Marcius. We need to get him somewhere safe."

Suddenly, all your senses returned. "Marcius, my son," you murmured. He was right—Elagabalus would want to eliminate the entire imperial family before claiming the throne. "Let's go, Lucius!" you urged, meeting his gaze.

He nodded. "Come, this way."

A little further along the banks of the Tiber, you emerged onto the plain, where Felix met you, flanked by two horses. "My lady, we must leave at once. Cato is at the villa; I sent him ahead to finalize the preparations."

You nodded in response. Lucius mounted one of the horses and extended his hand to you. "Come on."

Felix jumped onto the other horse as you settled behind him. But the soldiers had spotted you. "Hey! Stop right there!"

Fortunately, they didn’t have horses. You wrapped your arms tightly around Lucius as he and Felix kicked their horses forward. The soldiers yelled after you and ran, but they couldn’t keep up. You knew they would head to the villa, and your only hope was to reach it before they did. You turned your head for one last look at the silhouette of Palatine Hill disappearing behind you, your mind was clouded with thoughts of Geta. It felt surreal and almost unbearable to accept that he was gone, leaving behind an echo of memories that tugged at your heart.

to be continued...

I apologise to those who love Geta, but now we are approaching the end of the story and I will end this series even though I don't want to, you know everything has an end and I want to do it in the best way while ending it, I will probably end it in the 30th chapter, I hope you are still enjoying it, love you all:)

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your likes, comments and reblogs are soo important to me, and thank you for all support, love you all❤️

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[lxndonorris]

a perfect summer break - Charles Leclerc

Charles Leclerc x Y/N Theme: a little bit of everything, mostly fluff spending time on Charles's yacht during the summer break with a wet surprise for Charles x word count: 3415+ taglist: @game-set-canet open for requests :)

The Mediterranean sun shines brightly in the cloudless sky, casting a golden glow across the still waters. The only sounds are the gentle lapping of the waves against the yacht and the occasional cry of a seagull soaring high above. It is the perfect day—warm, peaceful, and serene—the kind of day made for relaxation and enjoying life's little pleasures.

Inside the luxurious cabin of the yacht, you stretch lazily, the feeling of pure contentment filling every fiber of your being. The smell of saltwater mixed with the faint scent of sunscreen lingers in the air, a comforting reminder that you're far away from the bustling world of Formula 1. It's summer break, and there's no better way to spend it than out here on the open sea, alone with the person you adore.

You take a moment to appreciate the opulence around you. The yacht, sleek and modern, in a world unto itself, with every amenity one could desire. The cabin is cool and shaded, a stark contrast to the heat outside. But while the interior is lovely, it's the world beyond that calls to you—the endless blue of the ocean, the warmth of the sun, and, of course, Charles.

You slip into a light cover-up and head out of the cabin, your bare feet padding softly across the wooden deck. The sound of the sea becomes more pronounced as you open the door, and your heart skips a beat as you see him—Charles Leclerc, your boyfriend—standing at the edge of the yacht, his hands casually on the railing.

He looks stunning, as always. His swim shorts hug his lean, toned body, accentuating the muscles he's worked so hard to maintain. A few pieces of jewelry—a necklace, a couple of rings, and his ever-present sunglasses—glint in the sunlight, adding to his effortlessly cool demeanor. The sun casts a warm glow on his skin, though you notice he's starting to turn a bit red. 

Despite the slight burn, he looks utterly relaxed, his usual intensity replaced with a rare tranquility.

Charles is gazing out at the horizon, lost in thought, when you step closer. His hair, tousled by the sea breeze, flutters lightly, and the corners of his mouth curve up as if he senses your approach. 

The sight of him like this, so calm and content, fills you with a warm affection. You move silently, your fingers itching to touch him, to close the distance between you.

When you finally reach him, you gently run your hand along his broad shoulders, feeling the heat of his skin under your fingertips. Charles tenses slightly at the unexpected touch, then relaxes, a soft hum escaping his lips as your hand trails down his spine and along his waist.

He turns his head slowly, and you're greeted by that irresistible smile—the one that makes your heart flutter no matter how many times you've seen it.

"Hey, beautiful," he murmurs, his voice soft and full of affection.

You smile back, your fingers still tracing lazy patterns on his back. "Hey, you. Enjoying the sun?"

"Mmm, always," he replies, leaning into your touch. "Though I think I might be getting a bit too much of it."

You laugh softly, your hand now resting on his side. "You might be right about that. A little red, but still looking fantastic."

Charles chuckles; the sound low and warm. He removes his sunglasses and sets them down on the nearby table, revealing those stunning green eyes that always seem to capture your soul. They are so clear, so expressive, and they lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

For a moment, you just stand there, soaking in the beauty of the moment, the comfort of being with him. His presence is all-encompassing, yet never overwhelming. It's as if the world has shrunk down to just the two of you, here on this yacht, floating in the vastness of the sea.

Breaking the comfortable silence, you ask with a playful glint in your eyes. "Do you have your phone on you?"

Charles raises an eyebrow, clearly puzzled by the question. "No why?"

You smile mischievously, stepping a little closer. "Good, because the water is calling you."

Before he can react, you give him a gentle push, sending him over the edge of the yacht. His eyes widen in surprise, and he lets out a half-laugh, half-shriek as he tumbles into the crystal-clear water below. 

There is a loud splash, followed by a moment of silence as you watch the spot where he disappeared.

You giggle, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and mischief. You love teasing him like this, knowing he'll be plotting his revenge the moment he surfaces. 

Without wasting another second, you dive in after him, the cool water a refreshing shock against your sun-warmed skin.

You emerge from the water, gasping slightly at the temperature difference. The sun overhead feels hotter now, the rays reflecting off the water's surface in dazzling patterns. 

But there is no sign of Charles. You glance around, treading water, a playful sense of unease creeping in.

Where did he go?

Just as you're about to call out his name, something grabs you from behind, pulling you underwater. You let out a startled yelp before being submerged, bubbles escaping your lips as you twist around. 

When you resurface, sputtering and laughing, you find Charles grinning at you, his hair slicked back from the water, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Gotcha!" he exclaims, his laughter mixing with yours.

You splash him in retaliation, and soon you're both engaged in a playful water fight, your laughter echoing across the empty sea. It's a liberating feeling, being out here with him, away from the pressures of his career and the constant media attention. 

Here, you're just two people in love, enjoying each other's company in the most carefree way possible.

After a while, you tire of the game, and Charles swims closer, wrapping his arms around you. You lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder as you both float lazily in the water, letting the gentle waves rock you back and forth.

"This is perfect," you murmur against his skin, closing your eyes as you soak in the moment.

"Yeah," Charles agrees, his voice soft in your ear. "It really is. Just you and me, the sun, and the sea. No races, no schedules, no nothing."

You nod, feeling completely at peace. Being with Charles like this, away from everything, makes you realize just how much you treasure these quiet moments together.

It's in these times that you see a different side of him—the side that's not the fierce competitor or the media darling, but the man who loves you with all his heart.

Eventually, you both decide to head back to the yacht, your limbs feeling pleasantly tired from the swim. Charles climbs up the ladder first, offering you his hand as you follow. 

The sun hits you with full force once you're back on deck, and you shiver slightly as the breeze picks up, cooling the droplets of water clinging to your skin.

"Let's let the sun dry us off," Charles suggests, gesturing to the cushioned lounge chairs that are perfectly positioned to catch the sunlight.

You agree, and the two of you settle down next to each other, lying on your backs with your faces turned up toward the sky. The warmth of the sun soon chases away the chill, and you close your eyes, feeling yourself drift into that pleasent, lazy state that only comes on the most perfect summer days.

As you lie side by side, Charles shifts closer, the space between you disappearing until he's right there beside you. Without hesitation, he moves to join you on the same lounge chair, adjusting himself so that you're nestled comfortably together. 

There's just enough room for both of you, and you can feel the warmth of his skin against yours, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.

As you lie nestled together, the familiar scent of Charles reaches your nose—a mixture of salt from the sea, the lingering freshness of his cologne, and that indefinable warmth that is uniquely his.

It's a scent you've come to love—one that instantly calms you and fills you with a deep sense of comfort. You breathe it in deeply, letting it envelop you, and a soft smile tugs at your lips.

You reach out, your hand resting on his firm chest, the rhythmic beat of his heart steady under your palm. His skin is still slightly damp from the swim, but the sun has already begun to dry him off, leaving him warm on the touch. 

You begin to gently stroke his chest, your fingers tracing the defined lines of muscles, feeling the strength and power that he carries so effortlessly.

Charles hums softly, his eyes half-closed in contentment. His own hand finds its way to your arm, his fingers trailing up and down in a soothing, repetitive motion. It's a tender, intimate gesture, one that speaks of the deep connection you share.

The world around you seems to fade away, leaving only the sensation of being here, together, in this perfect moment.

His hand moves slowly, almost absentmindedly, from your shoulder to your wrist, and back up again, as if he's memorizing the feel of your skin. The simple act of touch, being close to each other, is enough to make your heart swell with affection.

You feel the love radiating from him, not in words but in the way he touches you, in the way he holds you close.

You lift your head slightly, gazing at him. His eyes are still that vivid green, but now they're softer, more relaxed, filled with a peacefulness that you rarely see during the racing season. 

His face, too, is relaxed, free of the tension and focus that usually dominate his features when he's in the public eye.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask quietly, your fingers still brushing over his chest.

Charles opens his eyes fully, turning his head to look at you. A slow smile spreads across his face, one that reaches his eyes, and makes them twinkle. "I'm thinking about how perfect this is," he replies, his voice low and sincere. "How perfect you are."

You feel a flush of warmth spread through you, not just from the sun, but from his words. You smile back at him, your heart feeling as though it might burst with happiness.

"You're the perfect one," you tease gently, but there's truth in your words. To you, he really is.

He chuckles softly, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. His lips are warm and gentle, and you can't help but smile as the slight roughness of his stubble brushes against your skin.

The sensation is both familiar and comforting, a reminder of the many times he's held you like this, his affection evident in every touch.

"We're both pretty lucky, I think."

He moves to kiss your cheek, and again, that faint tickle from his stubble makes you giggle softly. You can't help but lean into it, savoring the contrast between the roughness of his stubble and the softness of his lips.

It's a feeling that's become intimately familiar to you—one that you've come to associate with the quiet, tender moments you share with him.

What's so funny?" He asks, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Your stubble," you reply with a playful grin. "It tickles, but... I like it."

A slow, teasing smile spreads across his face as he leans in to kiss you again, this time on the lips. The sensation is electric, his stubble adding a deliciously rough texture to the softness of the kiss.

You sigh into it, your hand moving to the back of his neck to pull him closer, deepening the kiss.

His stubble continues to graze your skin, the sensation sending little shivers of pleasure down your spine. It's a small, intimate detail, but it's one of the many things you love about being close to him.

When he finally pulls back, you're both breathless, and you smile up at him.

"I'm never letting you shave that off," you say, half-teasing, half-serious.

Charles laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he brushes a hand over his stubble. 

"I'll keep that in mind," he replies, leaning down to kiss you again, this time on your nose, eliciting another giggle from you.

As you nestle closer to him, you sigh contentedly, closing your eyes as you rest your head on his shoulder. 

The sun continues to bathe you in its warmth, and the gentle rocking of the yacht adds to the feeling of utter relaxation. Charles's hand still moves on your arm; his touch light and comforting.

For a while, you both lie there in silence, just enjoying the simple pleasure of being close to one another. The sun's rays start to soften as it dips lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the deck. The air cools slightly, but neither of you makes a move to get up.

There is something about the moment that feels timeless, as if nothing else matters except the two of you and the love that you share.

You feel Charles shift slightly, his lips brushing against your temple. 

"You know," he murmurs, his voice soft and filled with affection. "I could stay like this forever."

You smile, your hand resting over his heart.

"Me too, Charles. Me too."

As you lie comfortably in his arms, your eyes drift over Charles's skin, noticing the slight redness from too much sun. You can't help but chuckle softly, the sound escaping your lips before you even realize it. 

The thought of his usually careful self forgetting something as simple as sunscreen brings a playful smile to your face.

Charles notices your amusement and raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a curious grin. 

"What's so funny now?"

You reach out and gently run your fingers over his warm, slightly sunburned skin, feeling the heat radiating from it.

"I´was just thinking," you say with a teasing lilt in your voice, "that you really need to put on some sunscreen, Mr. Leclerc. We can't have you turning into a tomato before the break is over."

He glances down at his own chest and arms, chuckling along with you as he realizes just how much the sun has kissed his skin.

"You're right," he admits with a sheepish smile. "I might've overdone it a bit." His tone is light, filled with that easygoing charm you love so much.

You laugh softly, leaning in closer, so your noses almost touch. 

"Looks like I'll have to take care of you," you murmur, your voice playful yet tender.

Charles's smile widens, and his eyes soften as he looks at you, the affection in his gaze making your heart skip a beat.

"I'd like that," he replies, his voice low and full of warmth.

Before you can say anything more, he closes the distance between you, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. His stubble tickles your skin, making you smile against his mouth. 

The kiss is sweet and unhurried, a perfect reflection of the lazy, sun-soaked day you've spent together. You can taste the salt of the sea on his lips, feel the warmth of his skin under your hands, and it makes you feel completely, blissfully content.

When you finally pull back, your forehead rests against his, and you both chuckle softly, the sound mingling in the stillness of the evening. 

"Seriously, though," you say with a playful smile, "we need to get you some sunscreen before you're too burnt to enjoy the rest of our time here."

Charles grins, his eyes twinkling with amusement. 

"Alright, alright. I'll let you play nurse." He teases, kissing the tip of your nose before adding, "But only if it means I get more kisses like that."

You laugh, giving him a playful nudge.

"Deal."

With that, you sit up, reluctantly pulling away from the cozy cocoon of his embrace to fetch sunscreen. Charles watches you with the same easy smile, his eyes following your every move.

You feel his gaze on you, warm and loving, as you retrieve the bottle and settle back down beside him.

The sun is lower in the sky now, casting a golden glow over the yacht, the light softening everything it touches. 

You squirt some sunscreen into your hand and begin to gently rub it into his skin, your fingers moving in slow, soothing circles. Charles closes his eyes, clearly enjoying the attention, a contented sigh escaping his lips.

"There," you say once you're finished, leaning down to press a kiss to his now-protected shoulder. "All better."

He opens his eyes and smiles up at you, a look of pure adoration in his gaze. 

"Thank you, love," he murmurs, pulling you back down beside him.

You curl up next to him once more, his arm wrapping around you as you rest your head on his chest, the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat is the perfect soundtrack to the moment, lulling you into a state of peaceful contentment.

As the sun dips lower on the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, a gentle breeze sweeps across the deck. The air, once warm, begings to cool, and you feel a slight shiver run through you.

Charles notices immediately, his protetctive instincts kicking in.

Without a word, he sits up, leaving the warmth of your embrace, and you watch as he heads towards the cabin.

A moment later, he returns with a soft, cozy blanket in hand, his smile tender as he wraps it around the both of you. He tucks the edges securely around your shoulders, ensuring that you're completely covered before he lies down beside you again, pulling you close.

You snuggle into his side, feeling the imemdiate warmth of the blanket and the reassuring comfort of his body pressed against yours. 

The coolness of the evening air fades away as you lean against his strong frame, feeling his warmth seep into you.

With a contented sigh, you reach out to stroke his chest once more, your fingers tracing the familiar contours of his muscles, the steady rise and fall of his breathing soothing you.

Charles hums softly, the sound vibrating through his chest, and it's a sound you've come to love- a sign of his deep contentment, of how peaceful he feels in this moment with you. His arm wraps around you, holding you close as he nuzzles his face into your hair, his breath warm against your scalp.

The quiet intimacy between you feels almost sacred, as though the world has narrowed down to just the two of you, wrapped up together under the softening light of the setting sun.

The sky above begins to darken, stars slowly appearing one by one, twinkling against the deepening blue. The sound of the water lapping gently against the side of the yacht provides a soothing backdrop, mingling with the rustle of the blanket as you shift, nestling even closer to Charles.

His chest rumbles with another contented hum as he hugs you more tightly, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

"I love this," he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing whisper in the quiet evening. "Being here with you... nothing else matters."

You smile, your heart swelling with affection as you lift your head to look up at him. His eyes meet yours, the green softened by the twilight, filled with so much love that it takes your breath away.

"I love this too," you whisper back, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. "And I love you."

His smile is radiant, even in the fading light, as he returns the kiss, his lips lingering on yours. It's a kiss filled with all the love and tenderness that words could never fully capture, a promise that no matter what, you'll always have this- each other, and these precious moments.

When the kiss ends, you settle back down against his chest, your hand continuing its slow, gentle caress. Charles hums again, a sound that reverberates through his chest and into your very soul. 

The night continues to settle in around you, but wrapped in each other's arms, you feel nothing but warmth and love.

[misswynters]

Seaside

Addam Velaryon x Targaryen Princess!reader

[note | my very first drabble for the handsome valeryon bastard! nothing of the reader’s appearance is specified :3

[a/n: this was not planned and was out of a spur of the moment kinda thing <3

The night sky was clear, dotted with stars that shimmered like diamonds on black velvet. The salty breeze from the sea wafted through the open windows of the Dragonstone balcony, carrying the faint sound of waves crashing against the cliffs below. You stood there, wrapped in a fur-lined cloak, gazing out at the horizon where the sea met the sky. The cool air nipped at your cheeks, but you found comfort in the tranquility of the night.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you close. You leaned back, melting into the familiar warmth of Addam Velaryon. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his silver hair tickling your neck.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked softly, his breath warm against your ear.

You sighed, shaking your head. "Just needed some fresh air. Dragonstone, the handmaidens, the lectures, everything feels so stifling to me sometimes."

Addam chuckled, his chest vibrating against your back. "I know what you mean. It can be quite... unbearable."

You turned in his arms, looking up into his eyes. They were the color of the sea, deep and full of secrets. "But it has its moments," you said, a smile playing on your lips.

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Especially when shared with you, my princess."

Your heart swelled at his words. Being a Targaryen princess often meant a life of duty and expectations, but with Addam, you felt truly seen and cherished. He had a way of grounding you, of making the burdens you carried feel lighter.

"Let's take a walk," he suggested, taking your hand. "There's something I want to show you."

You followed him down the winding staircase and through the moonlit gardens of the castle. The flowers seemed to glow under the soft light, their petals glistening with dew. Addam led you to a secluded spot overlooking the sea, where a small picnic was laid out, complete with a blanket and lanterns casting a warm glow.

"What's all this?" you asked, your eyes wide with surprise.

"I thought you might like a change of scenery," he said with a grin. "And I know how much you love the sea."

You settled down on the blanket, pulling him down beside you. The two of you sat there, sharing stories and laughter, the world outside fading away. In that moment, surrounded by the beauty of the night and the warmth of Addam's love, you felt truly at peace.

As the night wore on, you rested your head on his shoulder, your eyes growing heavy. Addam wrapped an arm around you, holding you close. "Sleep, my love," he whispered. "I'll keep watch."

With a contented sigh, you closed your eyes, knowing that as long as you had Addam by your side, everything would be alright.

taglist: @benjicotblckwood @spn-obession

banners: @cafekitsune

[soulofapatrick]

Kiss Me Tired - Percy Jackson x Female Reader

Summary: you can't sleep so go to find your best friend - Percy

Words: 1.9k

warnings: none

Y/N’s POV

I find myself tossing and turning, the sheets tangling around my restless limbs, as elusive sleep evades me once again. The Apollo cabin is quiet, the soft hum of night almost suffocating in its stillness. Moonbeams trickle through the window, casting gentle patterns of the wooden floors. 

Grateful for being on the bottom bunk tonight, I slide from under the covers with practiced ease. The gentle thud as my feet meet the floor barely makes a sound, but each step feels amplified in the silence of the sleeping cabin. Slipping on a pair of shoes without lacing them up, I make my way to the door, my heart pounding louder than the muted thuds of my footsteps. The door creaks slightly as I ease it open, wincing at the noise before exhaling a relieved breath as it swings shut behind me. 

Staying close to the comforting cover of shadows, I weave my way through the lingering clusters of campers, their hushed conversations mixing with the rustling of leaves in the night breeze. The children of Nemesis and Nyx, silhouetted against the faint glow of the campfire, seem engrossed in their own whispered discussions, oblivious to my presence as I navigate the edges of their gathering.

I skirt the edges of the Poseidon Cabin, a refuge I’ve often visited, and slip inside, grateful for the cover of darkness. The familiar scent of saltwater and adventure lingers in the air. The cabin is eerily quiet, echoing with the absence of Percy—the solitary presence that usually defines it. 

My steps echo softly against the wooden floor as I venture further in. The moonlight filters through the windows, causing elongated shadows that dance across the cabin’s interior. Percy’s empty bed confirms his absence, leaving the cabin strangely deserted. 

Curiosity propels me deeper into the cabin, my gaze landing on the backdoor open, leading to the pontoons. The moon’s silvery trail illuminates the pathway to the water’s edge, inviting and ethereal. The realisation settles in—Percy, the sole child of Poseidon, often seeks solace by the lake, where the water sings the tales of his father’s realm. 

The sight before me steal a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. Percy sits there, silhouetted against the shimmering reflection of the moon on the water, a portrait of quiet strength and contemplation. His unruly hair catches glimmers of moonlight, creating an otherworldly halo around him. 

As I draw nearer, the tranquility that envelopes him seems almost tangible. The lake mirrors the night sky, stars dancing on its surface, and Percy, the living embodiment of that serene beauty, captures my attention entirely. 

He turns at the faint rustle of my approach, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his pretty lips. His sea-green eyes, illuminated by the moon’s gentle glow, hold a depth that echoes the mysteries of the ocean. It’s mesmerising, the way he seems both a part of the night and a beacon within it. 

Percy’s messy black hair catches the moonlight in a way that makes it seem like constellations have woven themselves into the strands, each unruly wave a testament to the untamed spirit he embodies. His lightly tanned skin, kissed by the sun’s rays and caressed by the gentle breeze, holds a warmth that feels inviting even in the cool night air. 

As I settle next to him, a comfortable ease settles between us. Percy shifts slightly, adjusting his position, and I follow suit, instinctively resting my head on his shoulder. It feels oddly natural, as if this silent language of unspoken understanding has been written int he stars all along. The coolness of the night dissipates against the warmth of his presence. His shoulder, solid and reassuring beneath my head, carries the weigh of both the wards burdens and its beauty. 

His sea-green eyes, s deep and enigmatic, gaze out into the horizon, the mysteries of the universe reflecting in their depths. The seven expression on his face speaks volumes, as if he’s a silent guardian, watching over the secrets of the night.  The gentle breeze whispers secrets to the night, and I feels Percy’s arm, strong and comforting, wrap around my waist, pulling me a fraction closer to him. It’s a gesture of silent understanding, an unspoken invitation to share the weight of ur silent night-time musings. 

“Why can’t you sleep, Mouse?” Percy’s voice, soft and inquisitive, breaks the tranquil silence with my stupid nickname he made for me. His concern is palpable, yet I hesitate to divulge the true reason behind my sexlessness, my heart pounding against the confession I’m afraid to voice. 

I shift slightly, trying to evade the truth, the words catching in my throat as I struggle to articulate the turmoil within, “Just… thoughts, I guess. You know how it is.” 

But it’s a hollow response, a mere veil covering the truth that simmers beneath the surface. The mere thought of Percy and Annabeth together as a couple, a union so celebrated and cherished among demigods, twists a knot in my stomach, a painful reminder of my unspoken feelings for him. 

The fear of vulnerability and the ache of unrequited affection hold me captive in a silence that feels suffocating. I can’t bring myself to admit the ache his closeness evokes, the ache that surges every time I see them together, facing the world as a pair that everyone wants to see. The perfect couple. 

A grumble of protest escapes my lips, as I know he sees through my lie as he stays silent, a frustrated sound that I can’t seem to contain. I turn my face, burying it in the comforting crook of his neck, hoping to hide the turmoil that threatens to spill over. His chest rumbles with a soft laughter, a sound that’s both comforting and teasing, pulling me out of my momentary retreat. 

Before I realise it, his finger hooks gently under my chin, lifting my face to meet to gaze. The concern etched into his expression melts away any remaining resistance, coaxing me to open up even as my heart clenches with the vulnerability of it all. 

“Hey,” He murmurs softly, his sea-green eyes searching mine, an unspoken invitation tp share whatever weighs on my mind. 

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat refusing to dissipate. The urge to confess tugs at my heartstrings, a silent plea to unburden the ache that gnaws at me. But the words romain elusive, trapped behind a barrier of fear and insecurity. 

My heart hammers against my chest as his thumb traces a gentle path across my cheek, leaving a trail of warmth that seeps into the cracks of my guarded emotions. I meet his gaze, sea-green eyes holding mine in a silent conversation that speaks volumes. 

I feel myself drawn to him, my eyes inadvertently tracing the curve of his lips. The soft moonlight casts an ethereal glow on his features, highlighting the contours of his face in a way that feels almost surreal. 

As my gaze lingers on his lips, a surge of emotions—longing, fear, and a yearning for something more—swirl within me. Self-control wavers as my heart takes over, propelled by an undeniable urge to bridge the gap between us. 

Without warning, without calculation, I lean forward, closing the space between us. My lips meet his in a moment that feels both suspended in time and yet over too soon. It’s a soft, tentative touch, a leap of faith and vulnerability woven into the tender connection.

 For a heartbeat, the world stills around us, the air crackling with the unspoken truth of our shared emotions. The warmth of his lips against mine like a revelation, a stolen moment that lingers as a testament to the unspoken desires I’ve kept hidden. But, just as quickly as it happens, the weight of the moment hits me, the reality crashing down like a tidal wave. I pull away, breathless and wide-eyed, my heart thundering in my chest, uncertainty clouding my thoughts. 

“Perce… Fuck, I’m sorry, I-“ 

Before I can finish my stammered apology, the words tumbling out in a jumble of regret and confusion, Percy’s gentle touch silences my anxious ramblings. He leans in, cutting off my faltering speech with a soft yet determined press of his lips against mine. It’s a kiss that carries a subtle urgency, a reassurance woven into the tender connection that leaves me breathless and wide-eyed. 

His lips, warm and inviting, mould against mine in a way that feels both familiar and utterly new. There’s a tenderness to his touch, a silent promise of understanding and acceptance that sends a shiver down my spine. His kiss tastes like the promise of untold stories, of shared secrets whispered in the stillness of the night. 

My heart leaps in my chest, responding to his gentle yet confident touch. I reciprocate, tentatively at first, before letting myself be swept away by the overwhelming rush of emotions. My hands, initially hovering uncertainly in the space between us, find their place, one resting against his chest and the other timidly finds its way to his cheek, relishing the warmth and softness of his skin. 

His hands, strong yet tender, find their place at the small of my back, pulling me closer in an embrace that feels both reassuring and exhilarating. The closeness of our bodies, the shared warmth between us, creates a cocoon of intimacy that blurs the boundaries of friendship and something more. 

The moment lingers, suspended in a haze of shared emotions, before Percy breaks the kiss, his breath mingling with mine as he gently pulls me onto his lap. My knees rest on either side of his hips, a sudden rush of adrenaline mingling with the warmth of our closeness. Then, he guides me down, our bodies molding together in a dance of longing and unspoken desires. His hands, firm yet gentle, cup my face, his thumbs brushing against my cheeks as he leans in for another kiss.

This time, there's a hunger in his touch, a raw passion that ignites between us. Our lips meet again in a union fuelled by the unspoken confessions of our hearts. It's a kiss that speaks volumes, a dance of lips and tongues that express the emotions we've kept buried for so long. His fervour is matched by mine as I respond eagerly, the longing I've harboured finally finding an outlet in this shared intimacy. The taste of his kiss is electrifying, a rush of emotions that consumes every inch of my being.

My hands find their place on his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, drawing him closer in a silent plea for more. Our bodies meld together, the heat of our closeness building an unspoken intensity that blurs the lines between friendship and an uncharted territory of passion.

In the soft moonlight, our embrace becomes a symphony of desire and longing, each movement a testament to the unspoken connection we've discovered. And as we lose ourselves in this intoxicating moment, the boundaries of what we were and what we might become blur in the heat of our shared passion.

“Come on sweetheart,” Percy finally pulls away, “You can sleep here tonight.” 

Riordanverse Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[nachrosas]

SILLY FISH | s.reid x reader

summary: in which you and Spencer spend some time in the aquarium. pairing: spencer reid x reader content warnings: none, just pure fluff! word count: 488 a/n: i hope everyone enjoys it!

Shades of gold and orange painted the horizon, reflecting off the sea that stretched beyond the glass balcony. The gentle sound of the waves breaking on the shore was the only thing that took her attention away from the distant murmurs of the aquarium's visitors; but there, in the outdoor area, everything seemed calmer.

Spencer was beside her, his elbows resting on the parapet, his eyes slowly following the movement of the sun bidding farewell to the day. The salty wind ruffled his brown hair, but he didn't seem to mind. And neither did you.

For a brief moment, neither of them said anything. It wasn't necessary. Only the sound of Spencer's quiet breathing, the ocean, and the cadence of your own heart filled the silence between you comfortably.

The sky began to transform before your eyes, vibrant colors dissolving into soft shades of pink and violet. The sun slowly sank below the horizon, spreading its colorful reflections across the surface layer of the sea. The breeze that carried the salty smell of the water mixed with the coolness of the night began to approach, and you took a deep breath, letting the tranquility of the moment settle in.

Spencer remained silent, his brown eyes reflecting the last of the day's light. There was something mesmerizing about the way he observed the scenery as if trying to decipher every last detail about the earth and the universe, cataloging information in his brilliant mind.

Then, when you least expected it, you heard him mutter:

“Science can really explain a lot. The rotation of the Earth, the refraction of light, the reasons why the sky changes color.” He hesitated for a moment, frowning slightly before continuing. “But still, there's something about this moment that seems... inexplicable.”

His voice was soft, almost a thought escaping your mind without permission. You turned to him and smiled slightly, feeling a silent warmth fill your chest. Some things didn't need to be explained. Just felt.

You kept smiling, letting Spencer's words settle into your chest, soft and intense at the same time. It wasn't just what he had said, but what it all meant. The way he, someone who always found answers in theories and facts, simply admitted that things existed just because they did.

When her eyes finally met his, any need for an answer disappeared. There was no need to speak. The silence between you said more than any explanation could.

The night was gradually settling in, the once golden sky was now a blanket of deep blue, where the first stars were beginning to twinkle. The breeze grew colder, but you felt a subtle warmth the moment Spencer's fingers brushed under yours on the parapet. It was definitely a light touch, almost involuntary, but it stuck in your mind.

Neither of them pulled away. Neither of them broke the moment. They just stood there, together, in the middle of the inexplicable.

[dooberific]

This is kinda weird but can I request a fic of reader convincing harumasa to start a 401k?

Happy you’re self aware bbg because this was a wild request to find ✋💀. I was googling so if there are any inaccuracies I blame reddit ELI5 threads.

❝ 𝘙𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘉𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘴 ❞

harumasa x afab!reader

genre: slice of life (anymore so and we would be asking him to join the neighborhood watch), some suggestive language

wc: 1.1k

“Somebody’s here suspiciously early.”

“Oh you know, my chest started hurting around four o’clock so I had to take off early.” He accentuated his tale of woe with a little fake cough, mirth dancing in his golden eyes as he neared your seat on the end of the pier.

Could you really blame him? His day was just so painful with all that paperwork, so when his favorite girl texts him with a surprise invitation for dinner at one of his favorite places? What was he supposed to do?

You reached into the convenience store bag behind you, producing a canned drink, waving it invitingly in his direction. “Bitter melon juice for the gentleman?”

“When a lovely lady offers it,” he plucked the can from your fingers, sweeping his head down to press a chaste kiss to your lips as you giggled, “How could I refuse~?”

He sat down beside you, legs dangling over the edge of the pier. “What’s the occasion? I know I’ve been a particularly good boyfriend lately but this seems a little too good to be true.” 

“Can’t I invite you out for a romantic picnic date without ulterior motives?” You rolled your lip out in a faux pout, reaching back into the bag behind you as you slung a saran wrapped sandwich at his chest.

“Oh, homemade sandwiches, super romantic.” He teased as he picked at the wrapping before taking a bite, immediately recognizing the flavors of your truly homemade chicken salad.

“What’s next, gonna slip your granny nightgown on when we get home? You know that thing really turns me on.” 

“I will have you know, my grandma ended up with seven kids wearing one of those.” You hissed as you took a bite of your own sandwich before waving it threateningly in his direction, kicking at his ankles. “Besides! It’s comfy and someone wasn’t complaining last time I wore it.”

“Guilty as charged~” 

You rolled your eyes but didn’t reply, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence as the sound of the waves lapping at the piers and the rush of the wind carrying a spray of sea foam lulled you into a tranquil state. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

His question took you by surprise. You hadn’t realized how mindlessly you had stared off into the horizon till he anchored you back in. You smiled, scooting to his side as you threw your arms around his middle, your cheek squishing against his shoulder.

“Just thinking about us…and the future, I guess. I think I’m just a little worried sometimes.” Your head swiveled up to prop your chin on his shoulder, watching as his brow furrowed below his headband. His hand squeezed your knee.

“What’s got you worried?”

“I don’t think you’re taking your life seriously.” 

The abruptness of your words surprised even you. You had rehearsed it in the mirror multiple times, trying to figure out how best to address it with him but that was all out the window now.

He fiddled with the tab on his drink can, head low. “This is about that retirement stuff the association sent, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” There was no use denying it anyways. You had questioned him when the packet came in the express mail, leafing through the papers outlining H.A.N.D’s 401k procedure before he told you not to worry about it. It was in the trash can the next morning.

“I don’t think you’re considering it like you should. You’re not living on borrowed time like you think you are, even the doctors have been pleased with how well your health has been maintaining.”

He laughed ruefully. 

“Every day I wake up is borrowed time. I’m a medical anomaly whether you accept it or not.”

“Keep talking like that and you’ll end up living to a ripe old age.” You chimed with a pop of your lips, bumping his shoulder.

“I just thought that since the government cut down the retirement age for Executive Officers to 35 that it might not be such a bad thing to consider, especially,” you tapped his nose with the tip of your finger, “since somebody I know would much rather play than work.”

You shuffled backwards on the deck, hitting your knees as you wrapped your arms around his neck from behind. You rested your head on his shoulder.

“Just think. Thirty-five, a retired smoking hot former executive officer lounging on his boat.”

He laughed, his shoulders shaking as he peered at you in his periphery. “On a boat huh?”

“Why not?” You replied with a shrug. “What better way to experience the freedom of the wind and the sea? I could think of much less pleasant ways to spend your time than waking up and enjoying the sunrise over the bay.” 

You squeezed him a little tighter as you brushed your lips over his ear. “Maybe if you’re extra good your equally smoking hot girlfriend will invest in a few bikinis and you won’t have to complain about those granny nightgowns anymore~”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” 

You snorted, shaking your head, hands drifting down his arms as you twiddled with his fingers till he threaded your fingers together with his. 

“Do me a favor and think about it?” 

You don’t get an answer before his phone chimes in his pocket. His face falls, and you know it’s work on the other end.

“Sorry baby,” his apology comes with a kiss. “Let’s get you home.”

You felt guilty when you saw the packet of paperwork on the edge of the counter when you returned to your shared apartment, having fished it out of the trash before you hatched your dinner intervention. You swiped it back off the counter, dropping it back into the bin with a sigh.

You didn’t remember when he crawled into bed with you, but you did stir when his morning alarm went off, feeling the bed shift as he got up. You yawned, dragging yourself out after him, draping the comforter over your shoulders like a cape to fight off the morning chill as you padded to the kitchen to start the coffee pot.

You poured a cup for yourself as you topped off his work cup, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you squinted at the packet of papers folded neatly on the kitchen counter.

You waved it curiously at him as he appeared in the kitchen beside you, adjusting his tie as he plucked his cup off the counter. 

“Haru, what’s this?”

“That,” His nimble fingers teased at your knuckles as he swiped the papers from your grasp, leaning in to plant a coffee-flavored kiss against your lips, “is our retirement boat.” 

He slipped on his shoes, popping the front door open as he spun around and shot to a wink.

“Better start picking those bikinis, babe.”

Rey 2024

[marysfics]

Wading Through Fears

You are afraid of sharks.

Fluff

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm orange glow over the horizon as the waves gently rolled onto the shore. You were lying on a towel, soaking in the last rays of sunlight, your eyes closed as the sound of the ocean filled your ears. It was peaceful, tranquil — everything you’d hoped your first vacation with Alexia would be.

Except for one tiny issue.

“¡Cariño! Come on, get in the water!”

You opened your eyes to see Alexia standing knee-deep in the sea, waving you over enthusiastically. Her hair was slightly damp, and she had that wide, carefree grin that made your heart do a little flip. The Mediterranean water was sparkling around her, clear and inviting. It looked perfect.

But you weren’t moving.

You sighed, shifting uncomfortably on the towel. “I don’t know, Alexia…”

Alexia tilted her head, her smile softening. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip. It felt a little ridiculous, but there was no way you could step foot in the water without explaining.

Taking a deep breath, you mumbled, “It’s the sharks.”

There was a moment of silence. When you glanced at Alexia, you could see her expression change, her brow arching in surprise. Her lips twitched, clearly fighting back a smile, and her shoulders shook just the tiniest bit as she suppressed a laugh.

Your face heated up in embarrassment. "I’m serious!" you said, crossing your arms defensively. “It’s the ocean. There are sharks.”

She couldn’t hold it in any longer. A soft chuckle escaped her lips, and she quickly raised a hand to cover her mouth, though the smile still danced in her eyes. She tried — really tried — to be serious, but you knew Alexia too well.

You pouted, sitting up on the towel with a huff. "Don’t laugh at me! Sharks are a real threat! They could be anywhere, and I’d rather not take the chance of losing a leg today."

Alexia, still chuckling, walked out of the water and sat beside you, her hand brushing your arm gently. “Oh, mi amor…” she said, her voice full of warmth and affection, despite the amusement dancing on her lips. “You’re not going to lose a leg. We’re on a calm beach. There’s no shark territory here.”

You turned your head to face her, stubbornly holding onto your pout. “But how do you know? The ocean is all connected. They can swim anywhere they want.”

Alexia raised her eyebrows, clearly trying to hold back another laugh. "Yes, the ocean is connected, but sharks don’t just hang out at beaches like this."

“Sharks don’t care about boundaries, Alexia! It’s the ocean. Ocean is ocean.”

That earned you a full laugh from her, and even though you were still pouting, you couldn’t help but crack a smile at the sound of it. Alexia was still shaking her head, her grin wide, as she pulled you into her arms. You felt her fingers thread through your hair as she kissed the top of your head, her laughter finally fading into a soft hum.

“I swear to you,” she said gently, “there are no sharks here. And even if there were, I’d fight them off for you.”

You snorted, leaning back slightly to look at her, your lips quirking up at the absurdity of the situation. “You’d fight a shark for me?”

“Absolutely,” she said, completely serious now. “I’m far scarier than any shark.”

Despite your lingering hesitation, her confidence was enough to make you feel a little braver. You sighed dramatically, earning another chuckle from her.

“Fine,” you relented, standing up slowly as Alexia grinned and got to her feet beside you. “But I swear, Alexia, if I see anything that even remotely looks like a fin—”

“I know, I know,” she interrupted with a teasing smile, grabbing your hand. “You’ll run back to shore so fast I won’t even see you.”

“Exactly,” you mumbled, but there was a smile tugging at your lips now.

Together, hand in hand, you walked toward the water, the waves lapping at your feet. You still felt a bit uneasy, the thought of what could be lurking beneath the surface making your stomach flip. But with Alexia by your side, her fingers intertwined with yours and her reassuring presence anchoring you, it didn’t feel quite as terrifying.

When the water reached your knees, Alexia turned to face you, her hands resting on your waist as she leaned in to whisper, “See? No sharks.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the smile creeping up your face. "I’m still on high alert."

Alexia laughed, pulling you closer until you were pressed against her. “I’ve got you, cariño. You’re safe.”

The gentle sway of the waves around you was calming, and the way Alexia’s arms wrapped around you made you feel like, maybe, just maybe, she was right. Maybe it wasn’t so scary after all.

With one last glance at the water, you relaxed a little more in her embrace. You might not be completely over your fear of sharks, but with Alexia next to you, it felt like you could face just about anything.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

A Father’s Embrace

word count: 733

Pairing: Toto Wolff x Wife!reader, ft. Jack

Summary: A peaceful day on the yacht brings Toto, Y/n, and their son Jack closer, as they share a heartfelt moment wrapped in the serenity of the ocean and the warmth of family love.

______________________________________________________________

The sun hung lazily in the sky, its warm golden rays spilling across the ocean's surface, casting glimmers that danced on the calm water. The gentle hum of the yacht's engine was soothing, a low murmur that blended seamlessly with the distant calls of seabirds. The air was filled with a quiet peace, the kind only found far from the bustle of their daily lives.

Toto sat with a soft smile playing on his lips, his arms wrapped protectively around their son, Jack, who had curled up into his chest, lulled by the rhythmic sway of the boat. His normally energetic little boy had been worn out by the sun and the excitement of the day. Jack's head rested against Toto’s chest, his small arms clutching his father, who wore his favorite white sweater. Toto’s sunglasses reflected the serene blue of the sea as he glanced out across the horizon, then down at Jack, his expression softening even more.

You leaned against the railing of the yacht, watching the two of them with a fond smile, the sight melting your heart. It wasn’t often that you saw Toto so still, so utterly at peace. He was always moving, always thinking, whether at the track or managing the pressures of his team. But here, in the quiet embrace of the ocean, with Jack asleep in his arms, he seemed to breathe a little easier.

“Mommy,” Jack had mumbled earlier before drifting off, his little body cocooned in warmth. You had smiled and kissed his head, the soft curls tickling your lips. Toto had reached out then, gently pulling you closer into their cocoon of warmth.

Now, as the yacht drifted along the coastline, you moved closer and sat beside them, your hand finding Toto’s. He squeezed it gently, a silent acknowledgment of the peace between you all. No words were needed—this moment spoke volumes. It was the kind of quiet joy that came from simply being together.

Toto turned slightly to meet your gaze, the sunlight catching his eyes behind his reflective glasses. “He’s out like a light,” he whispered with a grin, careful not to wake Jack. His other hand stroked Jack’s hair absentmindedly, the gesture so full of love and tenderness that it made your heart swell.

“He had a big day,” you replied softly, your thumb running over the back of Toto’s hand. “Couldn’t wait to follow you around the boat earlier.”

Toto chuckled, a deep sound that rumbled in his chest. “He’s always got so much energy, just like his mother.”

You laughed quietly, leaning your head against his shoulder. “He’s got your determination, though. He doesn’t give up until he gets what he wants.”

Toto smiled, a glint of pride in his eyes. “That’s true,” he murmured. “But right now, all he needs is to rest.”

The wind picked up slightly, causing the edges of the water to ripple. You pulled your jacket tighter around you, and Toto shifted, drawing you in closer without disturbing Jack.

“We should do this more often,” he said after a long pause, his voice low. “Just us. No races, no meetings. Just our family.”

You nodded, your heart warmed by the sincerity in his words. “I’d like that.”

For a while, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the only sounds around you the gentle lap of the waves against the yacht and the occasional soft breath from Jack. The world felt far away here, like nothing could reach you.

As the sun dipped lower toward the horizon, casting the sky in hues of pink and orange, you looked up at Toto, the man who held your heart just as securely as he held your son. He caught your gaze and smiled that soft smile reserved only for moments like this, where it was just the three of you, wrapped in a cocoon of love and tranquility.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the wind.

“For what?” he asked, brow slightly furrowed.

“For being you. For always being here.”

Toto’s grip on your hand tightened, and he brought it up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “I’ll always be here, love. For you, for Jack. Always.”

The yacht continued its gentle journey across the water, carrying with it the quiet promise of more days like this, filled with love, laughter, and the warmth of family.

[bestedoesmeow]

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐞, 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

pairing: carlos sainz jr & fiance!reader

request: Carlos x reader trying to have a baby, but after some failure, during the summer break with all of his family in Mallorca they got the big news (baby Carlos is comingg). After a year they come back to the summer house, as a parents, dealing with baby Carlos, with his sister and his mother🥹 (can you make this angst at the begging)

The summer sun hung low over the horizon, casting a warm, golden hue across the picturesque landscape of Mallorca. Carlos and you stood by the balcony, gazing out at the tranquil waves below. The sea breeze ruffled your hair, a gentle reminder of the passage of time.

It had been a journey of hope and heartache, a story that had begun with dreams of parenthood. But those dreams had been met with silence, punctuated by the bitter sting of failure. The two of you had weathered the storm, your love growing stronger with each setback. Yet, the emptiness lingered, a void that seemed insurmountable.

Amidst the laughter of Carlos' family echoing through the summer house, your heart ached in secret. His sister's children played by the shore, their innocent giggles a painful reminder of what you longed for.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon in a blaze of oranges and pinks, you found yourselves alone on the balcony. Carlos turned to you, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and determination.

"We can't keep letting this consume us," he whispered, his voice laced with vulnerability. "I want this more than anything, but I also want us to be okay, no matter what."

You nodded, tears glistening in your eyes. "I know. It's just... hard, Carlos."

"I know, mi amor," he said, wrapping his arms around you. "But let's make a promise, right here, right now. We won't let this define us. We'll find happiness in each other, in the love we share."

"I thought this summer would be different," you whispered, your voice breaking with emotion.

Carlos nodded, unable to find the words to comfort you. His own frustration and sadness mirrored yours. You've had dreamed of starting a family together, and yet, fate seemed to conspire against you almost like it hated you, it hated you were together and happy.

That summer indeed was different. When you woke up one day to check the situation, the test result was different from the other times, and you wondered if you were still dreaming or if it was a cruel joke played on you and Carlos. The test was positive - two lines on it. You didn't know what to do or how to react.

"Carlos, can you come here for a second?" you called out, beckoning your fiancé to join you.

Your fiancé made his way into the bathroom of your room, his eyes still sleepy with morning hair. You didn't want to wake him up, but you had to, you really had to. You didn't say anything, leaving him even more curious, standing there in his boxers with sleepy eyes.

"Is everything okay, querida? Are you okay? Did you get your period? You know it's okay, we've talked about this," he said, not expecting the situation to be different from the other times.

"No, Carlos—"

"Did you hurt yourself? ¿Estás bien?"

"No, Carlos, look—" You said, showing him the test you had been holding in your hand for the past five minutes he was there. His eyes wandered on the test for more than 10 seconds, maybe as if he was trying to comprehend the situation or trying to understand if he was seeing it correctly.

"You're pregnant, querida? When did you take this? Oh, I can't believe it," he said. His sleepy eyes widened with the news. His hands were placed at the sides of your waist while you were sitting on the bathroom sink, looking at the test with a beautiful smile.

"I took it this morning. I hadn't thought that I'd be actually pregnant this time," you said with obvious disbelief. His hands covered your torso while you were sitting on the sink, wiggling your feet happily.

"You've been wanting it from the bottom of your heart, mi corazón. We've been wanting it actually," he said, cupping your cheeks to leave a happy and relieved kiss on your lips after a long time. Your hands cupped his freshly shaved cheeks, breathing slowly.

"I am so happy, Carlos," you said, your thumbs drawing circles on his cheeks slowly.

"Me too, querida, me too."

Sainzs took the news more excited than ever, actually Reyes did even cry while hugging at you. Then she admitted it in the dinner, she was so happy for the baby but she was happier for you, she hated to see you sad, she loved your energy the most.

The next summer, the visit to Mallorca was quite different from the other times. Your baby boy, Antonio, was cradled in your husband's arms - you and Carlos had decided to get married just after you received the news. As you entered the house, big smiles and even happy tears greeted you. Reyes kissed your cheeks once again to show how proud she was of you, and how strong you had been. Carlos's father took his grandchildren, who was named after his recently passed away father, in his arms and placed a good luck kiss on Antonio's forehead before whispering the words.

''Bienvenido a nuestra familia, Antonio.''

Carlos tightened his hold on your waist before leaving a kiss on the crown of your head.

''I am so proud of you, querida. Te amo.''

''It wouldn't be possible if it weren't for you, Carlos. Te amo, forever.''

[nothingbutsweetwords]

ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ꜰɪx ʜɪᴍ (ɴᴏ, ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ, ɪ ᴄᴀɴ)

ᴅᴀʀᴋ!ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ

"ᴛʀᴜꜱᴛ ᴍᴇ, ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ʜᴀɴᴅʟᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜꜱ ᴍᴀɴ, ɴᴏ, ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ, ɪ ᴄᴀɴ."

Word count: 9,700. (sorry)

Fandom: House of the Dragon.

Pairing: Aemond x Reader!Sister.

Warnings: Angst, smut, incest, mention of non-con, violence, blood.

The sunrise on the garden balcony was a spectacle of light and color. The sky bathed in shades of pink and lavender, reflecting its warm glow over the colorful petals of the flowers and the cool fountains surrounding them. They were in that corner of tranquility, enjoying one of those rare moments when time seemed to stand still.

Away from the exhausting bustle of the palace and the endless boring lessons that usually occupied them, they were seated on a marble bench. Lucerys gazed at the horizon, where the sun was slowly rising, while she looked at the small piece in her hands, a little sky-blue horse that belonged to him, her best friend, who always carried it. Her mind was at peace, enjoying a restorative calm, complemented by the sound of the leaves rustling and the gentle waves caressing the sand.

Suddenly, he broke the silence, rising above the murmur of the garden. He cleared his throat, a sign that announced the importance of his forthcoming words. His eyes sparkled with a light that was more than just the sun’s.

“Have you heard the news?” he inquired, his tone soft and gentle as he regarded her. Though his tone was casual, the faintest hint of a smile revealed his restrained excitement.

Intrigued, she turned her head toward the sound of his sweet voice, her hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders. Her eyes met his. “What is it about?” she asked, filled with genuine interest.

Lucerys leaned forward slightly, an air of mystery about him. There was a palpable warmth in his anticipation, akin to the whisper of a breeze through the clouds. “It appears that a proposal has been made,” he began, pausing dramatically for effect before adding, “between the two of us.” 

A wave of emotions washed over her, a mixture of surprise, relief, and an uncontainable glee. Her brows arched in astonishment as her mouth fell slightly open.

In an instant, her lips broke into a smile, accompanied by a small laugh. “I am pleased it is you” she said. “We will be together for all time.”

Seeing her reaction, he returned the smile with one that illuminated his entire face. His cheeks took on a rosy hue, and his eyes reflected a happiness that seemed to mirror her own.

The promise of a shared life, now formally announced, felt as natural as the descending sun. Their friendship had been a constant source of joy and stability, from their childhood games to their conversations filled with dreams and confidences, and in that moment, the bond was evident.

As the day melded into morning, they dreamt aloud of all they would do when the time came. They would live in Driftmark, sail the open sea every day they could, and the others would fly on Arrax's back, exploring every realm and enjoying adventures far, far from King’s Landing.

She moved hastily toward her brother. Each stride, each heavy step seemed to echo in her mind, a reverberation of the anguish she felt as she traversed the silent corridors of the palace. Her face, impassive and devoid of expression, could not reflect the emotional storm that tormented her.

Upon reaching the door, her hands trembled slightly as she turned the knob. The maester, who was in the midst of his work, offered a respectful bow before withdrawing, leaving them alone in the deep gloom, barely interrupted by the faint rays of light filtering through the window.

The room was enveloped in a dense atmosphere, and the air was thick with a penetrating smell of blood and medicinal ointments, a constant reminder of the suffering manifesting within.

The tense friction between the children of Rhaenyra and their own siblings had always been present, but what occurred that night surpassed any expectations of enmity, turning the journey to Driftmark into an explosion of chaos, destruction, and despair, marking a turning point for all. And now, Aemond lay mutilated, wounded inside and out beyond repair, his body marked by the traces of brutality.

The bond between them had never been one of great closeness; she respected and valued him, of course, but always felt they aimed at very different things. He had a powerful, dominant presence, determined to protect her from what she perceived as invisible enemies and to educate her on intricate politics from which she only longed to escape.

Despite all this, he was her brother, and the sight struck her with unrelenting force, tearing at her from within, and the blood tie was felt immediately, throwing her toward him with urgency. His face was bruised, with traces of dried blood scattered across his skin, and his left side was completely bandaged.

She approached the bed cautiously, as if afraid to disrupt the fragile balance of the situation. She sat beside him, taking his hand in hers. The coldness of his skin and the sharp pain reflected in his features made her feel as though the world was crumbling around her. Tears began to flow down her cheeks uncontrollably.

The silence of the room was broken by a fractured whisper. “Let me take care of you now” she said, almost like a plea, the weight of regret and sincerity in her promise resonating in her voice, clinging to the hope that she could offer some comfort. 

She felt lost, trapped between the piercing pain of seeing Aemond suffer and the cruel disbelief that Lucerys was the cause.

He nodded slightly, squeezing her hand and showing a small smile with the remaining strength he had.

Over the following moons, she stayed by his side, reading aloud fragments of books he used to enjoy, trying to distract him from the pain and make him feel he was not alone.

One time, while they were in his chambers, the weight of her questions prevented her from thinking about anything else. Her family had preferred to keep the details from her ears, but she needed the full, raw, and unadorned truth to face her own pain and sense of betrayal.

“May I ask you something?” she murmured with cautious hesitation. Aemond looked at her, his uncovered face showing his wound, which, although it had not diminished his beauty, bore testament to the deep suffering he had endured. He nodded, granting her permission to continue. “What precisely happened that night?”

His expression darkened with anguish as he began to recount the events in detail, sparing no harsh truth. He described how he had been ambushed, how ruthless insults and merciless blows had rained down on him just because, and how the violence he had suffered had left an indelible mark not only on his face but also on his spirit. His narration was laced with a sharp sense of injustice and humiliation.

Lucerys had brought a dagger and his siblings and cousins, under the assurance that Aemond would be isolated, and it seemed that the conflict had left a bitter sense of dissatisfaction.

Each word and revelation felt like direct strikes to her gut, leaving her paralyzed, her hands quivering as she struggled to grasp the gravity of what she had heard.

Her dearest and closest friend, the one with whom she had shared laughter and secrets, the one with whom she had dreamed of building a life, turned out to be the perpetrator of such indescribably atrocious violence that she could hardly believe it. The actions of that boy, in whom she had placed all her trust, felt like a treachery that cut to the very essence of her being, shattering her deepest convictions.

She recalled all those times Aemond had told her about the callous jokes he faced and the dangers of associating with cold, ambitious people, and how she had thought he was exaggerating. Now, she understood the truth with terrifying clarity: he had always sought to shield her from the darkness of their world, and his warnings had materialized in him.

“They will not be satisfied with this” he intoned gravely. “They will not rest until they have eradicated all who pose a threat to their rise — Aegon, Daeron… me.” Fear enveloped her strongly, realizing that unity was more crucial than ever, and recognizing that she had lost the one she loved most in the world.

“And to think we were to be married” she whispered later, more to herself than to Aemond. The acceptance that the future she had once envisioned was no longer hers shattered the heavy silence, leaving behind a sound of broken dreams.

He regarded her with an intensity that was both earnest and fierce, his gaze reflecting deep sincerity.

“I would never have allowed it” he declared firmly, charged with a fervor that made clear how much his love and desire to protect her meant. Tears welled in her eyes as she faced him. “He is a bastard, and every bastard is a monster by nature” he added with disdain. 

She had always abhorred such notions; she knew Lucerys for who he truly was and had never believed he fit such descriptions. Yet now, she found herself doubting.

She nodded, relieved to have avoided what seemed like it could have been a curse, and grateful to have Aemond by her side, who seemed to be her only refuge amidst the storm that her world had become.

As the years went by, her feelings began to transform in ways she had not anticipated. At first, her heart was flooded with excruciating pain. Seeing her brother suffer was a torment, every lament, every sign of ache, cut deep into her, creating a sense of helplessness that seemed inexhaustible. It also hurt her to adopt a new image of Lucerys, with a completely different light.

That pain gradually dissipated, replaced by something more intense, a relentless fury towards Lucerys and blind devotion towards Aemond. His resilience and bravery which he showed without complaining, were worthy of worship, and fascinated and inspired her in ways she had never imagined. 

Her life began to revolve around him, at a pace that seemed synchronized with his needs. While he dedicated most of his time to training, challenging his physical limits, she became a constant and discreet presence, a faithful shadow moving through his surroundings. She took it upon herself to nurse him back to health, and she manifested in every small gesture, from carefully bringing his meals to delicately cleaning his wounds and changing the bandages with loving precision.

Each night, when sleep eluded him, he would call for her, and she would come, ready to provide a refuge of comfort and support, trying to make the hours of wakefulness a bit more bearable.

Amidst all this, something withered while something else bloomed, an emotion that overflowed and transformed into something much more mature. The first sign of change was the blush that would take over her cheeks every time he whispered his sweet thoughts to her.

He told her that her care was the greatest comfort he had received, that her love was the greatest blessing in his life, that she was everything he had always wanted, and that he hoped to have her by his side forever, forever. These, filled with genuine affection and a fragility he did not share with anyone else, began to penetrate her vulnerable heart.

Aemond, who had grown into a man of imposing beauty, now occupied a special place in her heart. Every feature of his, every gesture, every look seemed to be wrapped in a strength that captivated her completely. The way he moved, the way his eye shone with an intensity that only she seemed to grasp, made her pulse quicken, as if every beat of her heart was an ode to his existence.

As the sun began to sink below the horizon, painting the sky with golden and orange hues, she sat on the edge of the window, her gaze lost in the vast expanse of the sea, which reminded her of what once was, while listening to the restless waves crashing on the shore.

Her mother entered with a resolute step. “I wished to speak with you, my dear” she said with a voice trying to remain calm and her face marked with tense lines. She turned to her, a faint smile on her lips at recognizing her presence, and nodded softly. 

Alicent gently took her hand and guided her to the nearby settee. They both sat down, and the silence that followed was laden with a heavy anticipation, palpable as the pressure before lightning splits the darkness.

Feeling the weight of unspoken words, she looked at her with concern. “What troubles you, mother?” she asked, intertwining her hands in an attempt to share the emotional burden as the sadness in her mother’s eyes did not go unnoticed, even though the reasons behind it were not clear.

Alicent sighed deeply before murmuring, her voice breaking. “I am worried about you.”

She looked at her, her curiosity growing with each passing second. “Worried about me? Why?”

Her mother paused, looking at her with apprehension. Finally, she gathered her resolve to speak. “Your relationship with Aemond…” She cleared her throat and licked her lower lip before continuing, carefully choosing her words. “Your brother… he is not the same since the events that befell him. And I wonder whether it is wise for you to remain so close to someone like him” she said cautiously.

Her eyebrows furrowed in displeasure. “Someone like him?” she asked, her tone reflecting her unease.

“You know what he is” her mother replied in a whisper, as if fearing the consequences of voicing her thoughts.

“He is just hurt, rightfully so,” she defended, “and I can help him” she added urgently, trying to make her mother see the determination on her face.

“No, you cannot.” That was an unexpected blow. “Besides, do you not think that what you are feeling may not be entirely genuine? You lost Lucerys, and you needed someone to fill that void.”

Her mother’s words struck a sensitive chord. She looked at her with seriousness, her expression shifting from confusion to profound sadness. “That is not true” she whispered firmly, her voice trembling. “And do not say that again.”

“You may view matters from a different perspective than I, from where you stand” Alicent continued, still gentle, attempting not to alarm her further. “And you have seen how your sister has been since she got married” she said, tears beginning to pool and her lips pressing together to stifle them. “I wish not to condemn you to the same fate”

Exasperation took hold as she defended their relationship, knowing that not all could comprehend. “Their love is not the same as ours” she said, her voice rising with a mix of frustration and desperation. “Aemond is not as you believe.”

“Perhaps it would be wise for you to distance yourself from him” Alicent finally suggested. “A change of scenery, some distance, might offer you clarity.”

Suddenly, she stood up, pulling her hand away sharply. “What are you trying to do?” she demanded, her eyes blazing.

“I am going to send you to Old Town. There, you may meet new people and choose the husband you desire.”

“I want Aemond!” she retorted, shouting as she neared a breaking point. “Do not do this to me” she pleaded, her face reddened by the tears that finally began to fall as she clutched her chest, which seemed to be closing up.

“I merely wish to care for you” her mother said through tears, rising to follow her as she began to pace around the room. “I seek what is best for you” she added, her hands reaching out in an attempt to touch her.

“He is what is best for me,” she countered, “and I am what is best for him.”

“No, he is not” Alicent said, her voice rising into a cry filled with anguish. “He will ultimately tear you apart.”

With a heavy heart, she faced her mother. “Attempt to keep me from him if you must” she threatened, her voice full of defiance. “Send me to the ends of the earth if you want, he shall always find me upon Vhagar.”

Alicent reached her side, cradling her face in her hands with a tenderness that contrasted with the intensity of the moment, wiping the tears from her cheeks with a love that contradicted her words. They stayed like that for a few minutes, their foreheads touching, both trying to steady their breathing and meet halfway.

“If you will not do it for yourself, at least do it for me” she pleaded, a call to empathy that made her waver. She finally pulled away, stepping back. “It is decided, then” she said with a trembling voice before retreating, shaking her head, her face soaked with resignation.

The rest of the day dragged slowly as she remained locked in her chambers. She had leaned against the wall, seeking solace in the cold of the stone and the salty air that seemed to try to dry every tear that rolled down her cheeks. Shadows lengthened as the light began to fade.

She couldn’t get out of her mind the vision of another future that had collapsed before her eyes. The image of a destiny that once seemed promising and full of hope had now turned desolate, again.

She would be bound to an unknown lord, forced to accept a marriage she did not want, raising children fathered by a man she did not desire, facing a life that offered no freedom or happiness. The weight of an existence with no option to choose her own path pressed on her little by little, like sinking into water.

The door creaked open almost imperceptibly, and Aemond appeared in the doorway, his figure marked by exhaustion. He walked towards her with silent steps, calling her softly, but she was so immersed in her thoughts that she barely heard him. Only the warmth of his proximity pulled her out of her reverie.

When she slowly turned to look at him, the sadness in her face, with swollen eyes and tears still filling them, made his expression shift to one of alarm. “What is it?” he asked, his voice thick with worry as his brows furrowed.

She endeavored to speak with resolve, but her voice betrayed her struggle to remain composed. “Mother is going to send me away,” she said, her voice cracking, “to find a husband.” Aemond’s reaction was immediate. His eye widened, and his jaw tightened, indignation clear in his demeanor.

“She dares to take you away from me?” he exclaimed, his tone rising. One hand encircled her waist with a strength that was both tender and firm, while the other rested on her neck, ensuring she felt his sincerity.  “I will not allow it” he declared with fervor. “I will not allow you to be wed to some mere lord.”

She bit her lower lip, the effort to contain her sobs making her tremble. “It is decided, she said” she whispered, the sorrow in her words intensifying his grip.

“She has no word in this” he asserted with a voice seething with fury. For a moment, he allowed her tears to flow freely as he held her, her forehead resting against his chest.

After a few moments of finding comfort in his embrace, he gently pulled her away, taking her by the roots of her hair and compelling her to look up. “To whom do you belong?” he asked with a firmness that left no room for doubt.

She met his face, her devotion undeniable in her eyes. “To you” she whispered, her voice soft.

He nodded slowly, a small, approving smile curling the corner of his lips, casting a soft light over his stern features. Despite the roughness of the skin of his hands, calloused from the sword, his thumbs softly traced hearts on her blushing face as their gazes interlocked in a silent dance.

“Then prove it” he whispered, his voice low and laden with deep meaning, a glint in his eye. “Let no tongue dare question it.”

Her pulse began to race with a nearly painful speed, each beat pounding in her chest, marking the rhythm of an uncontrollable desire, and her breath grew labored. She looked at him with a mixture of expectation, her eyes shining. Then, her lips parted, a gesture that sealed a tacit pact.

She had imagined this moment countless times, each scenario more vivid than the last, but she had never felt brave enough to act on those desires. Excitement enveloped her like a surging tide, threatening to sweep her away into uncharted waters.

Without warning, he leaned in, and their lips met in a tentative kiss, igniting like the first flicker of a flame. She responded with a relieved sigh, the initial caution melting away into a deeper surrender. Their breaths intertwined, ragged and heated, as the kiss grew fiercely.

Although their mouths had joined before, never with such haste. The tip of his tongue gently slid over her lips, seeking to pave the way for a more intimate exploration, while her hands gripped him tightly, feeling the powerful beat of his heart.

Her fingers glided over his chest, ascended his neck, and finally tangled in his soft hair, pulling him toward her with an uncontrollable need.

In that moment, she was aware that she was transgressing established rules, breaking from the expected, and that her mother would undoubtedly feel a profound disappointment, but for once, she allowed herself to be swept away by the force of impulse, yielding to him without reservations.

Her lips, red and moist from the kiss, were slightly parted, gasping for air as their eager hands hurried to undress one another. He lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her toward the bed with a sense of urgency.

With her back pressed against the cool sheets and him dominating above her, she couldn't help the jolt of nerves that coursed through her stomach. She delicately removed his eyepatch, placing it on the nightstand as if shedding the last remnants of restraint.

As he kissed her fervently, she felt his hardness pressing against her entrance, intensifying her longing. She moved her hips toward him, seeking the union.

When the need for another breath became imminent, without uttering a single word, he began to trace a path of kisses that glided softly down her neck, where each touch made her skin prickle, awakening sensations she had never experienced. 

As his lips descended, warmth grew within her, and the air became hotter. He reached her breasts, where he placed his hand over one, provoking a shiver that coursed through her body. Gently, he caressed it with his long fingers, while with the other, he dedicated himself to leaving wet kisses that marked her skin with desire. When his mouth settled on her nipple and began to suck, the slight contact of his teeth left her breathless.

To her dismay, he stopped, looking at her with an eye full of promises, the intensity of his sapphire shining under the moonlight as he continued his descent, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.

He buried his face between her thighs, and she gasped as she felt his tongue on her puffy folds, exploring her sensitive flesh. Her cries grew louder as he licked the length of her wetness, drinking deep from her core.

Then, as his tongue flicked against her bud, he inserted one of his long fingers inside her. One of her hands went to his hair, desperate to hold onto something as she felt him savoring every drop of her, in perfect synchronization with his fingers sliding in and out of her.

She threw her head back while pulling his closer, and uncontrollable moans began to escape her lips, each deeper and more filled with surprise than the last. She felt her body begin to tremble under his power, a pressure building inside her, her back arched and her hips pressed against the mattress.

"I feel like... I feel like" she cried, her brows slightly furrowed and her mouth open.

"Yes, my love" he whispered, his thumb expertly attending to her most sensitive spot while his fingers kept working wonders inside of her. “Let go for me” he said, and she felt herself slipping over the edge, her body convulsing and her legs quivering as the ecstasy washed over.

As the waves receded, she lay there, breathing heavily, her body still pulsing. He rose from between her legs, his eyes fixed on hers, and as he kissed her, she could taste herself. 

He loomed over her, his arm planted firmly on one side of her body while the other went around her neck, taking her hair and pulling her back again. "Open your eyes," he commanded, his voice a whisper thick with desire, “see who is taking you."

She obeyed, still breathless as he aligned himself with her center, and her legs locked tightly around his waist as he sank agonizingly slowly into her welcoming warmth. A delicious burning sensation settled within her as he stretched and filled her so, so right.

A loud moan escaped her kiss-swollen lips, a symphony of pain and pleasure flooding her every sense. When she brought one of her trembling hands to her mouth to stifle the sounds, he firmly pulled it away.

"Let everyone hear that you are mine" he declared, increasing the speed of his movements, drawing forth more whimpers, resonating in the room while her body writhed, responding to every harder thrust of his hips. “And mine alone.”

After the simple wedding ceremony, held before the eyes of the seven to avoid "upset them any further" her life seemed to have been ripped away from a dream. 

Days passed in a constant sway on Vhagar's back, as he showered her with gifts and spent nearly every moment of the day making love to her at every hour and place, sealing their affection in a nearly oppressive manner.

But time, like an unrelenting moon, began to shift the waters. The maester confirmed her suspicions, that a life was growing inside her, and everything changed abruptly. When she revealed this to Aemond, she had anticipated several reactions: surprise, joy, gratitude, but she never imagined the stoic expression on his face, marked by a veil of displeasure, as if the baby, instead of being a pure blessing, had become an imminent threat to their exclusive bond.

"How can this be?" he erupted, his expression laden with disbelief. "I never allowed any of my seed to remain in you, and" he stammered, shaking his head, “and you, you have drinked the tea, have you not?”

She remained composed, her voice steady as she explained. "The maesters said that, even with our precautions, it is possible. It is not that surprising, given the frequency with which..." She smiled wryly, trying to ease the tension in the air and lighten the mood, but it faded when she saw he was not convinced.

One evening, as she looked at herself in the mirror, the curve of her pregnancy prominent, she saw Aemond enter with his usual gravity. The baby, already making its presence felt, began to move—a small reminder of the life they shared. She smiled and called him, eager for his reaction.

"My love, come here" she beckoned, hoping to draw him near. He approached with an impassive face, deliberately avoiding her gaze. She placed his hand on her rounded belly, but he brushed it away with a slight brusqueness. "Why do you pull away?" she inquired, her voice trembling with hurt.

Then, though wounded, she lifted her hand to caress his face. "I like to think I shall have a little version of you" she commented tenderly, trying to infuse hope into a situation that seemed to be crumbling. However, rather than sharing in her enthusiasm, he appeared troubled.

Her eyebrows arched in surprise. "What is it that troubles you, my love?" she asked, concern lacing her tone.

"I cannot help it" he replied. "The baby... it changes everything. It used to be so simple, just you and me."

"But it is a natural part of our life together" she attempted to explain, filled with a desperate calm. "It is merely a new phase."

"One I did not ask for" he retorted sarcastically. "Every time I look at you, I feel as if I am losing you. How can you expect me not to feel threatened by this?"

She frowned, her frustration growing. "And what would you have me do?" she asked, with annoyance. When he looked at her, his gaze indicated something deeper. "Aemond" she reproached, her hurt more apparent.

"Do you not understand what this means? It will draw your attention from what truly matters."

She looked at him, still struggling to grasp his anguish. “You are being unreasonable.”

"Do you believe that?" he asked, his voice filled with desperation. "Because I am not so sure. The baby will require all your attention, and I... how can I compete with that?"

She took a step back, shaking her head slowly. “Compete?” she murmured, a note of sorrow in her voice.

"Yes" he admitted, and seeing her reaction, he sought her gaze almost pleadingly. "I never imagined I would have to share you so soon. It is just that..." He hesitated, struggling with his emotions, his eyes drifting to her belly. "The baby... it will separate us once it is born; I will be lost in the change."

Her voice quivered as she responded, desperate to bridge the distance. “No, he will not.”

"The idea that another might possess a part of you... is unbearable" he said, breaking down, frustrated, unable to accept her words.

"But, my love, what we share will not fade. This love we hold for one another does not divide; it only grows" she countered, striving to offer comfort.

"It is hard to trust when everything I know seems to be changing" he confessed, his voice revealing his vulnerability. 

She sighed, with a growing ache in her chest, and embraced him softly. "You are not losing me, you never will" she assured him with a conviction that tried to counterbalance his growing unease.

"No matter what?" he insisted, his tone carrying an intensity that felt more like a demand than a mere question. His embrace was a blend of desperation and control, as if he needed her promise to calm his inner turmoil. “Promise me.”

"I promise" she sweetened her words even further. "Just be good and let me help you, do not shut me out, yes?" she said, planting a small kiss on his furrowed brows. 

However, promises and caresses were not enough to fill the void that had opened between them. In the weeks that followed, his attempts to reconnect with her through gestures, though well-intentioned, did not align with what she was willing to receive or give at that time. It often resulted in awkward and mismatched moments, as his efforts did not meet her current needs. Frustrated, he began to spend more time away under various pretexts and excuses.

"What if it turns out to be twins, as I had?" asked her sister with a playful smile. The scene was serene, with both of them in the room while Helaena meticulously embroidered blankets for the cradle, each stitch an act of anticipatory love. She remained silent while her heart raced. Aemond's concern for their child was already overwhelming; the idea of facing that anxiety doubled terrified her.

Unable to respond, Aemond entered the room bearing a bouquet of flowers. "I thought these might brighten your day" he said, offering them.

She regarded the carnations, her eyes reflecting surprise and a hint of sadness. "They are quite beautiful" she murmured, accepting them with a grateful smile. "Thank you." 

Seeing that he was about to leave, she stepped towards him, her eyes conveying a silent plea for more. "Perhaps you might stay with us for a while. I was thinking we could choose the babe’s name together" she suggested, her tone gentle but laden with hope.

He casted a fleeting glance at the door with an inscrutable expression, and replied, "I shall leave you both to it.”

She felt a pang of disappointment, and with a resigned sigh, returned to her place. Helaena, witnessing the exchange, gave a gentle caress to her belly, trying to offer comfort. "What troubles you?" she asked after a few moments.

"I am worried" she confessed, trying to contain her sadness. "I fear Aemond is not entirely happy about this." Noticing her sister's concerned face, she quickly added, trying to downplay the severity of her feelings. "He simply has not yet come to terms with it."

"It is only natural to feel overwhelmed, but it is not fair for you to bear all the burden" Helaena gently said.

She sought to soothe her, her voice a whisper full of justifications. "It is just that everything has unfolded so quickly for him. At times, I believe he fears losing me more than confronting what lies ahead."

Helaena, clearly preoccupied, took her hands. "Once the babe arrives, you will need to devote a lot of time to him. He must adjust to that reality now" she advised.

"Perhaps when he sees the babe, he will come to understand" she said, though her tone betrayed a lack of conviction. "Did you experience something similar with Aegon?"

Helaena shrugged, her expression showing sadness and frustration. "Aegon was always a devoted father, always happy" she whispered. "I only fear that I was not the mother he had wished for his children."

Although the distance hurt, she faced the pregnancy with the support of her siblings and her mother, hoping that he would overcome his insecurities and find his way back to her. But when the babe was born, the situation did not improve, it only worsened.

As she dined with her sister and mother, the conversation revolved around the latest court topics and the children. It was at that moment that Alicent, with a touch of nervousness, announced:

“On the morrow Rhaenyra’s family shall visit us.”

The words hung in the air, and both Helaena and she looked up from their plates. Her pulse quickened immediately. Although she had maintained a steady anger towards Lucerys, the mere fact that he would be nearby again stirred a whirlwind of emotions. The thought of seeing him, of confronting the past, filled her with a crushing anxiety.

During the court session, Aemond instructed her to remain in her quarters, claiming that she should not concern herself with trivialities. She had suspected a more hidden motivation behind his decision but accepted his command without questioning too much, she would learn the details through Helaena after.

Hours later, she found herself on the balcony of the gardens, her gaze lost in the sea, a place where she used to seek comfort and clarity. Enjoying the breeze on her skin, she felt a presence behind her and knew, without even looking, who was there. Despite everything, she couldn’t resist the urge to see him, to ask the questions that had remained unanswered.

“It is a lovely day” he said, approaching her side. His voice was more deep and mature, but just as sweet as she remembered. 

“Indeed” she replied softly, almost as if Aemond could hear her from a distance.

“It has been a long time” he continued, his words heavy with regret, gazing at her instead of the landscape.

“Yes, it has.”

“Things got out of control.”

She almost laughed at his understatement. “You took my brother’s eye” she exclaimed, her voice laced with indignation.

“And I regret it every day” he confessed, his tone genuinely sorrowful

“Of course you do” she retorted, the sarcasm unmistakable. “It is not easy to forget such a heinous act.”

“I am aware” he said, heavy.

After a few minutes of charged silence, she broke it, her voice reflecting years of resentment and longing. “You ruined everything.”

“I had to act” Lucerys said, defensively.

“Act about what?” She demanded. “Because he claimed a dragon?” She looked at him, incredulous and disturbed. “You brought a dagger to an ambush, you meant to kill him, just because of that?”

“No,” he interrupted quickly, “because he was going to kill Joffrey” he said, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Did he ever tell you that?” he inquired, his voice mingling with frustration and anger. “About how he was about to kill Joffrey, calling him a bastard, when I intervened.” She shook her head, recalling what Aemond had said.

“Do not deceive me” she said, her disbelief evident. “He would never do something like that.”

“I would never have done something so grave without a serious reason” he insisted.

“Speak not ill of him” she warned, her voice rising in a defensive shout. “You were always unkind to him, always.”

“Unkind, yes” he said, his expression torn. “Do you truly consider me a monster?” he asked, his eyes filling with tears.

“I did not until that day” she replied firmly.

Lucerys gazed at her with an intensity that seemed to pierce her very soul. “You knew me better than any other” he whispered, making her tremble. “Do you truly believe I could be capable of that?”

She was left speechless, feeling her carefully constructed world beginning to crumble. She turned away, desiring to process what she had just heard. When she noticed that Lucerys was trying to follow her, she raised a hand in a gesture of plea, asking for space.

Upon reaching her room, she collapsed onto the bed, her legs feeling like water. Her breathing became erratic, and doubts seemed endless, pulling her deeper into a sea of anguish.

Minutes later, Aemond burst in, and upon seeing her in such a state, he approached quickly, his face overflowing with concern.

“What happened?” he asked urgently, searching her gaze. 

“What happened that night?”

He frowned in confusion. “What night?”

“The night you lost your eye” she said, her voice breaking as she sought answers.

“Do you wish me to recount the events of that night?” he inquired. “Besided, I have already told you.”

She gazed at him intently, silently pleading for the truth. Seeing her resolve, he began to recount. “When I entered the castle, after claiming Vhagar, they were waiting for me. The five of them began to attack me without cause, and Lucerys took my dagger and...”

“Lucerys took your dagger?” she interrupted. “I thought he had brought the dagger.”

He stared at her, his mouth slightly agape. “I must have made a mistake. It was many years ago” he simply said. Then, his face began to harden, his expression shifting from confusion to irritation. He stood up, visibly agitated. “Have you spoken to him?” he asked, his tone edged with irritation.

“Then answer me” she demanded, her voice steely. “Which version is it?”

He remained silent, his gaze revealing anger and disappointment. Finally, he shook his head with an attitude that seemed more mocking than sincere.

“I am at a loss” she said, her voice quavering with confusion and anguish, her insecurity filling every word as she rose from the bed, pacing nervously around the room. She placed a hand on her abdomen, grasping at the air as if it were slipping through her fingers.

“Do you now side with him?” he asked, low. “With the one who took my eye?”

The pain pierced her. Despite witnessing Aemond’s vulnerability, the doubts she had tried to suppress began to resurface. 

“I have always listened to you alone, I have placed my faith in you,” she said, her voice breaking. “But now…” The version of events he had told her seemed increasingly fragile. 

“I wish to be left alone” she asked, feeling hopeless.

But he, with determined steps, his expression tense and eyes fixed on her, stood in front of her. He took her by the jaw with one hand, forcing her to look at him. His eye, reddened by distress, could no longer conceal what was hidden behind it.

“Please, let go of me” she begged, frightened. She felt that the man before her was no longer the one she knew and trusted.

“No” he said, with a terrifying firmness. “Everything I have done has always been to protect what is mine.” His hands gripped her skin with a force that promised to leave marks. “But if you wish for me to be the villain” he whispered with icy intensity, “perhaps I should be.”

She frowned, struggling beneath his grip, but he held her immovably with an unyielding strength. Every attempt to free herself seemed futile against his determination.

“You have casted me aside, and now you doubt my word?” he asked rhetorically, his voice taut and sharp. “It is time for me to impose order” he said, jaw clenched, taking her by the hair and dragging her towards the bed.

“Let go of me” she pleaded again through tears. Desperation and pain were reflected in every movement as she tried to escape the embrace that was no longer comforting and warm.

He held her, and her scalp ached from his grip. "You have forgotten who you belong to" he told her, his voice threatening and his hot breath against her ear, while with the other hand he lowered his pants and then began to lift her dress.

In the bathtub, the cold water had already chilled her wrinkled skin, and her vacant stare remained fixed on nothingness. With the tea Aemond had sent and half a jug of wine in her system, she tried to numb the pain.

Helaena found her there and, without a word, helped her up, then chose a blue dress for her—one she had embroidered long ago and had never had the chance to wear.

As her sister worked on her hair, her voice cracked with a whisper full of desolation. “Do you ever imagine what it would have been like?” she asked.

Helaena hesitated for a moment before asking, as if she didn’t already know. “What do you mean?”

“How it would all be if mother had married us to them” she replied, her eyes dry, devoid of any remaining tears.

Helaena paused, feeling the weight of the words. “Every day” with a long sigh, she admitted.

“I wish I knew what it would have been like” she murmured. They remained silent for a few minutes, embraced by the pain, until their mother called them to supper

When their king arrived, carried in a chair by guards, it marked the beginning of the other part of the evening. Aemond, sitting beside her, did not utter a word. Her gaze remained fixed on her cup, as if the drink was merely a distraction in an environment that no longer made sense. 

“How good it is to see you all tonight, together” he said, his gaze sweeping over the table with sadness. “This is an occasion for celebration, it seems,” he continued, “my grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our houses.” 

The news broke her heart, and the pain was evident in the exchanged glances between her and Luke. The rest exchanged smiles, but for her, the moment was one of deep mourning. “A toast to the young princes and their betrothed.”

The glasses were raised in a general toast, and she drank from her glass in one gulp, seeking the comfort she couldn’t find. Then she hurriedly refilled her glass.

“Let us toast as well to Prince Lucerys, the future Lord of the Tides” he added, and everyone raised their glasses again. “Hear, hear” they said in unison, while Rhaena congratulated Lucerys with a cheerful whisper. She emptied her glass again, feeling the warm liquid course down her throat.

When he stood up to make a toast, the room fell into anticipation. Every movement he made seemed painful, and this only intensified her sense of sadness. Although her relationship with him had never been particularly close, the proximity of his departure put everything into perspective, and her heart ached at the impending reality.

With a raspy tone reflecting his weariness, the king said “It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world, yet grown so distant from each other in the years past.” 

He attempted to smile, but his effort only highlighted the frailty the years had left in him. “My own face is no longer a handsome one, if indeed it ever was, but tonight I wish you to see me as I am. Not just as a king, but your father, your brother, your husband, and your grandsire,” he continued, “who may not, it seems, walk for much longer among you.”

“Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts” he pleaded, his voice choked with emotion. “The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. Set aside your grievances, if not for the sake of the crown, then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly” he begged, his sorrow evident as he sat down and Alicent helped him adjust his mask once more.

Jace suddenly stood up after a few toasts, drawing everyone’s attention. She was absorbed in her thoughts, her eyes fixed on the empty glass, and the abrupt change at the table jolted her. Aegon returned to his seat, casting curious glances at Jace, while Aemond stood up, his presence imposing silence and attention. She huffed in annoyance as she poured more wine.

When Jacacerys raised his glass, his gaze fixed on Aemond, Helaena listened intently. “To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond” her nephew said with a smile that seemed more a formality than a genuine celebration. 

“We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family's good health, dear uncles” with a final sip, he ended his toast, and she watched as the tension mounted.

“To you as well” said Aegon, his tone an indifference that did nothing to ease the atmosphere. Helaena fidgeted nervously, a small tremor on her lips, and she refilled her glass, much to Aemond’s displeasure, who was burning her with his gaze and asking her to stop.

With an unexpected impulse, she abruptly stood up, surprising him and immediately catching Lucerys’s concerned glance. Her glass trembled slightly in her hands, and her gaze settled on Rhaena and Baela, who were radiant with a hope she envied deeply. 

“I would like to toast to Rhaena and Baela” she said firmly, raising her glass with a smile that failed to hide the sadness in her eyes. “They will be married soon.”

The young woman's smiles were a glimmer of happiness amidst the gloom that enveloped her. The sight intensified her pain. She felt overwhelmed; the life they will have is a fantasy she had let go, full of promise and hope, and her reality seemed even darker in contrast.

“It is not so bad, mostly he just ignores you” she said, trying to sound lighthearted. “Except sometimes when he is mad” she added, her voice breaking slightly at the end of the sentence, and with one last long sip from her glass and a poor attempt at a smile, she sat back down. Tears pooled in her eyes, heavy and treacherous, but she managed to hold them back, though her heart ached seeing the concern, sadness, and anger on Lucerys’s face.

“Or when he is drunk” Helaena added with an equally harsh truth. Aegon was clearly irritated, and Aemond, beside her, visibly tensed. Otto looked at them, his lips slightly turned down as he sighed.

“Let us have some music” Viserys suggested, as a momentary truce, an invitation to disconnect. When the melodies began to fill the space and more wine flowed freely, the atmosphere gradually relaxed.

She was holding Helaena’s hand when they looked up and saw Jace and Lucerys extending their hands with a silent but clear invitation. Her heart skipped a beat seeing Lucerys, and in her broken gaze, there was a trace of hope.

They accepted the invitation with a trembling smile, avoiding the gaze of the men beside them. Nervous laughter escaped her lips as the four of them moved toward the cleared area. 

Though they were not experts in the art of dancing, the joy of the moment became evident. Their movements were awkward but filled with a fleeting happiness. The contrast between the joy of the dance and the internal sadness was hurtful, yet also sweet, like a taste of what could have been.

As they twirled and changed partners, time seemed to stand still, the melody offering them a respite. Helaena and she found themselves holding hands, and her sister whispered with gentle melancholy: “This is how it would have been.” She smiled. For a brief moment, the pain faded.

Applause and laughter filled the room, and Otto and Alicent watched them with smiles, perhaps pleased to see the two enjoying their brief escape, while Aemond and Aegon’s scorching stares were fixed on their backs.

After a few more minutes of laughter, everyone stood up. Realizing what was happening, they also stopped, catching their breath while watching their father, understanding that this might be the last time. They held each other's hands tightly, and when he disappeared through the door, they decided to continue dancing, honoring his final wish.

When Luke extended his hand again, with a nostalgic smile that reminded her of the one he used to give her as a child, a loud thud resonated from the table, startling them. Turning to face the table, they saw Aemond with his glass raised toward them.

“Final tribute” he said, looking at her. She sensed what was coming as she glanced at her mother, who in turn looked at Aemond with alarm. Suddenly, he shifted his gaze to Luke. “To the health of my nephews: Jace, Luke, and Joffrey” he said, the tone subtly changing with the second name. “Each of them handsome, wise…” he paused, a small smile curving his lips, “strong” he concluded.

“Come” he said, raising his glass higher, just like Aegon. “Let us drain our cups to these three strong boys.”

“I dare you to say that again” Jace challenged, chin lifted.

“Why? It was only a compliment” Aemond said as he approached. “Do you not think yourself strong?” he taunted.

Luke landed a solid blow on Aemond, making his face turn sideways, though not a drop was spilled from his glass. Aegon, in turn, went after Jace.

“Enough” Alicent shouted, standing up from the table.

Aemond looked at Luke with a sneering smile as he pushed him to the ground. Seeing Luke on the floor made him smile even more, and then he turned his gaze to her for a brief moment. Alicent tried to reach Aemond, attempting to grab him, but he brushed her off with indifference.

“I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, mother” he said, turning back to them. Both Luke and Jace were being held by the guards, struggling to break free. “Though it seems my nephews are not quite as proud of theirs.”

She watched him from a distance, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Daemon's intervention, standing firm and stepping in, made Aemond uninterested in continuing the confrontation. He walked with measured steps toward her, grabbing her by the wrist, and dragged her out of the hall, ignoring her protests. She turned her head one last time to look at Lucerys, a trace of desperation in his eyes as the guards kept him apart.

Nights passed since the coronation of her brother, and the silence of her mother's missives had become a deafening echo, a void. No letters, no attempts at negotiation had received a response.

Just before leaving for Storm's End to seek Lord Baratheon's support and his army, Aemond found her staring out at the sea, the sky darkening into shades of gray and deep blue, with clouds threatening to obscure every star.

“I know I have erred” he confessed, his voice carrying a depth of vulnerability. “I should not have treated you in such a manner. You have been my heart’s desire since our youth, always” he whispered, the weight of his confession reflected in the melancholy of his words. “You stood by me in my darkest hours. When everything seemed to be falling apart around me, you were there. Yet, seeing you turn to him… it tore me apart” his voice cracked, and his words flowed like a torrent of anguish, each syllable imbued with deep sorrow.

“I have never known such pain, such abandonment” he continued, as if the wounded child he once was had returned, now with a heart full of desperation, pleading for forgiveness and filled with remorse. 

She felt a tug in her soul, as if the child who once yearned to soothe his pain was listening. Yet she resisted the urge to look at him; she knew that if she did, she would succumb.

“You are aware of their nature, of what they are capable of. You have witnessed it, even if you allow them to sweeten your ears against the truth” he added, his voice heavy with helplessness. “Perhaps you still hold love for our enemy, a love that clouds your ability to see my perspective.”

“But I can remedy that” he said,  like a solemn oath, pointing to his chest with a painful resolve. “You have always been meant for me, and me alone. No matter what, you said” he declared, with an oppressive anticipation, palpable like the fury of a storm about to break.

She, still agitated, kept her gaze fixed on the sea, where the water continued its chaotic dance.

The rest of the day slipped by in restless thoughts. Although anger consumed her and sadness bound her, there was something unbreakable that kept her alert: Aemond remained her brother, the father of her child, her husband. This complexity kept her on edge, and her concern grew when he did not return at the expected time.

Night fell like a dark cloak, and the thunder of Vhagar’s wings echoed through the sky as the waves crashed against the rocks with a rage that seemed to shake the very earth. The night chill seeped into her bones, and her breath condensed into clouds of vapor that floated in the icy air, a cruel irony compared to the warm calm of previous nights.

The sound of the door opening startled her. She turned slowly, but the darkness made it hard to discern his figure looming in the doorway.

“You are awake” his voice resonated between the stone walls.

“I needed to make sure you were well” she replied, straining to see through the gloom.

“Did you?” he questioned, skeptical.

“Yes” she answered. “Come here” she requested softly. He began to move slowly toward her, the dim light of the moon revealing him bit by bit. He was drenched, the rain had plastered his clothes to his body, and he had his arms crossed over his back, as if trying to hide himself from something other than the cold.

“Shall I prepare you a hot bath?” she offered, noticing his disheveled state. He continued to regard her with an unyielding expression.

“No” he replied firmly, approaching.

As he drew nearer, and she could finally see him clearly, her heart raced even faster. She frowned upon noticing traces of blood on his face and moved closer, her concern taking over. “Aemond, speak to me” she urged, her voice trembling with desperation. “Are you hurt?”

“Are you worried about me?” he asked, with a glimmer of hope.

“Of course I am, Aemond” she said, gently cupping his face in her hands. He allowed her to examine him in silence. “Are you hurt?” she repeated, fear tightening her chest. “Please, tell me, what happened?” she implored, looking at him intently, her heart pounding wildly.

He gave her a faint smile, resting his right hand on the hilt of his dagger, the blood still fresh, staining the steel like a bad omen, while his left remained clenched at his side. Confusion twisted in her gut as she looked at him, desperately searching for visible wounds, but finding only the sinister glint of his blade.

Then, with a deliberate slowness, he opened his left hand, and an eye fell from his palm, rolling to the floor with a sickening thud. The reality crashed over her like a cascade of icy water, freezing her in place. She stepped back, retreating slowly, her heart pounding in her chest as he watched her with a predatory intensity. “What have you done?” she asked, horror and accusation in her shaky voice.

“Only what was necessary” he whispered, deceptively soft. “I have always asked for you, only you, all for myself” he said, taking a deliberate step toward her. “I thought I had succeeded” he continued, moving closer, the shadows in the room deepening and twisting around him like hungry serpents. “But then he came back, and I realized… I remained a second.” His voice turned bitter, poison seeping into every word. 

“Always the second. The second son, then the second love, then your second priority” he said, frowning, tilting his head to one side, his gaze burning with resentment that felt like a knife against her sanity.

A twisted smile curled his lips. “Clearly, I am powerless with the child; that opportunity has passed” he remarked, as if savoring his own despair. “But now, now I am your only love” he declared with satisfaction dripping from his words like blood from his hands. She found herself cornered against the cold, the very walls seeming to close in around her, suffocating her with their oppressive weight. “And I shall not rest until I have the crown on my head” he whispered in a low growl, absorbing the dim light and plunging the room into an abyss of dread. Outside, the storm finally raged.

[dominicfikeme]

The Blue Spirit

Paring: Zuko x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader catches The Blue Spirit when he is leaving to capture the Avatar.

Warnings: None! It’s all fluff :))

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There you sat on the cold metal stairs leaning against its railing, the breeze playing with your hair giving it the same buoyant wave as the sea on which the ship sailed. A sense of calm enveloped you, shielding you from the usual sense of worry that plagues your mind. Your tranquility however was short lived, stolen by the sound of footsteps, you peered through the railings at the shadowy figure. It moved with stealth, making its way to the edge of the ship. You walked towards the figure trying your best to not be noticed, as you got closer, the more familiar the figure seemed. The way they walked, moved, you knew it all too well. 

You cleared your throat intending to get his attention, the figure turned to face you drawing out his swords to his side, his face concealed by a blue mask. You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction, “Zuko” you said as you crossed arms, “you’re not going to fight me are you?”.

He sighed as he sheathed his sword, you took a step toward him, inspecting his disguise, you ran your fingers across the intricate designs on the surface of the mask he wore.

 “Where did you get this?”, you asked as you pushed the mask up revealing his face

“It was my mothers” Zuko replied, averting his eyes from yours

“Hmm I see... so, should I take the lack of eye contact as a sign of guilt?” you questioned

“Guilt?” Zuko said looking at you with confusion

“Yes Zuko, guilt. Guilt that you were probably sneaking away to do something reckless, the guilt that is very literally causing you to mask yourself.” you chided as you tapped on the mask and continued, “don’t feign stupidity Zuko, we both know you’re not fooling anyone”. 

He sighed, shoulders relaxing, “I need to get him y/n” he said

“The Avatar?”

“He is my only chance at redemption, and I can not… will not let Zhao take it away from me” he declared, “And I know what you think but I-”

“Okay”

“Okay?” he said taken aback

“Well firstly,” you said raising one finger, “nothing I say is going to stop you, I’d be preaching to deaf ears. Secondly,” you continued, now raising a second finger, “I have never taken a liking to Zhao so I couldn’t care less what happens to him!”

Zuko laughed as he placed his hands on your waist pulling you closer, you rested your hands on his neck taking in the rare sight of his smile. 

“Just… be safe okay?” you said as you kissed his cheek

He nodded as he leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. You watched as he used a rope to scale down the side of the ship onto a small boat, you leaned against the railing, watching his figure slowly disappear into the horizon.  

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[sweemmy]

The sun shines high in the sky, casting its golden light over the vast blanket of warm sand. The waves dance in rhythm with the wind, crashing onto the shore with a hypnotic murmur. The sea breeze, laced with salt and freedom, caresses your skin with a delicate coolness, softening the heat of the day in a gentle sway.

Satoru sits beside you, his white hair tousled by the breeze, playing with the light like threads of silver. On the towel next to him rests his usual bandage, forgotten for a moment. His eyes, without barriers, mirror the infinite blue of the ocean, capturing the vastness of the horizon in his pupils. It's an uncommon sight, almost unreal: seeing him like this, without haste, free from the weight of the world pressing down on him, simply existing, surrendering to the moment.

With his arms intertwined behind his head, he lets out a deep sigh, filled with tranquil satisfaction. He is a man of great presence, someone who bears more than he admits, but here, beneath the golden sun, he seems stripped of all burdens. His lips curl into a lazy smile as he stretches his legs calmly, sinking his feet into the sand before resting them, with quiet confidence, over yours. A small gesture, yet brimming with intimacy.

"I wish I could live like this forever."

His voice merges with the murmur of the sea, and in his tone, there’s something sincere, almost vulnerable. The sound of distant laughter mingles with the ebb and flow of the waves, weaving an atmosphere suspended in time. Every so often, Satoru traces invisible shapes on your skin with his fingers, with an unexpected tenderness, free from theatrics. There are no jokes, no bravado, just a touch absent of pretense. Here, far from titles and responsibilities, he is not the Strongest Sorcerer, not the teacher, nor the man who defies fate. Here, he is simply Gojō Satoru, breathing with you, anchoring himself to a moment of pure, unburdened happiness.

As the afternoon slowly glides toward the horizon, the sky ignites with streaks of amber and pink, reflected in his eyes like a serene fire. The soft light bathes his skin, outlining each feature with an ethereal beauty. Time melts away, indifferent to the inevitable end of the day. Because, for now, nothing else matters: just him, you, and the vastness of a sea that seems endless.

[rileythelonelyalien]

Thalassophobia- fears of deep bodies of water such as Oceans, seas, and lakes.

A/N: I was writing down new ideas and such for different Fics and I thought about how interesting it might be if the MC/reader had a deep fear of deep bodies of water whilst dating Rafayel? So, I wrote it up, it ended up more fluff than angst if any at all but oh well. I made everything as vague as can be so that anyone can me the MC in this! (Singular use of Y/N Rafayel mostly calls them Cutie)

tw: none, just fluff

word count: 1.2k

fic is under the cut ! :D

Being a hunter meant being strong, capable… but that doesn't mean that a hunter can't have their fears and weak moments right? Alas for you it's not that simple what you find unsettling is a bit embarrassing to say the least, but you can't hide the hesitation on your face when you’re standing so close to the shore with your boyfriend. Thalassophobia. Something that you couldn't quite explain in words but you knew that this phobia was a deep seated worry of yours. Sure, rationally dipping your toes into the little waves lapping at the shore wouldn't kill you but that still couldn’t trump the immense pit in your stomach as you looked out at the horizon, of the large body of water. It looked so still at this moment but who knows what lies beneath the tranquil sight.

“Hey! Heeeeyyyy cutie? What's got you so lost in thought, I’m right here aren’t I?” his familiar voice cuts through your swirling thoughts. You drag your gaze away from the sea before you to the cheeky smile plastered over your boyfriend's features with a small sigh “It's nothing, really.” you mumble half heartedly racking your brain for any excuse you could find to remain on the sand and avoid the root of your hesitation. “I’m… feel a bit tired I think I’ll just sit here, you can still go for a swim if you’d like though I really don’t mind” you quickly mutter out. Unfortunately for you Rafayel is unconvinced, his hands come to settle on his hips taking on a stance that of a petulant child, a pout on his lips. “What? You seemed so energetic on our way over here, what's happened since then… is something wrong?” you shake your head waving your hand at him dismissively “It’s really nothing I swear–” you begin to try and deflect once more but it’s clear he's not having any of it raising his finger and shaking his head “you’re terrible at lying…” he gently chides you before coming closer to you worry evident on his features.

As he draws near his hands would come up to hold yours, “Y/N. If somethings bothering you I don’t want you to have to hide it from me… of course if you don’t want to tell me that okay but I wouldn’t want to do anything without having you by my side, even if it's just swimming” his earlier childish and teasing demeanour has melted away and left behind an air of tenderness between you and him. His tone is kind and understanding, a warm gaze looking into yours with care and respect.

Not having the courage to say anything about your phobia you murmur a few excuses and simply find yourself sitting on the sandy terrain of the beach looking out at the sea, gulls cawing distantly as they traverse the skies above the water. Mindlessly you would pick at the small shells around you, some in broken fragments given how delicate they were whilst others remain intact. Whilst the silence between you two isn't uncomfortable it is filled with a light tension. It stays this way for what feels like quite a while even if it has only been a few minutes since the silence had blanketed over them. “People have lots of silly Phobias, right? Like how you're afraid of cat’s … or some people are frightened by ducks…" the hesitation is painfully evident in your own voice as you hear yourself speak. Rafayel’s head perks up as you begin to speak although he frowns at your mention of his ‘phobia’ of cats “Hey now, it's not a ‘phobia’ if they are menacing little creatures” he huffs in response but makes it clear with how he doesnt draw away even leaning into to you to hear you better that he's open and listening to what you have to say. “Well, I also have a fear… it's stupid I know but I’m frightened by the ocean…” your own voice seems to fail you as the words fade from your lips, quiet speech turning into embarrassed mumblings. 

You expected laughter, maybe a bit of teasing or something of the like. Many people had such reactions “what? Scared of the ocean, that so silly you're overreacting " "now that's just absurd, it's not like its going to kill you” past words dance around in your mind. Maybe it was a mistake telling him this. Yet just as you ready yourself to take back what you said, cover it all up as a joke and laugh it off you catch his expression. The worry that was once there had smoothed over into compassion, a thoughtful frown on his features. “I see, that makes things much more clear now…” he mutters thoughtfully. An arm finds its way around your shoulder bringing you in closer to lean against him, you can feel the sensation of his nose and lips nuzzling into the top of your head, a warm breath against your scalp. “What about it unsettles you so much?” he asks, catching you off guard. You weren't really expecting to be asked that, it's not like many people took the time to try and wrap their minds around a phobia of yours. “It's just– it's hard to explain, to put my feelings into words but I can't help but feel anxious near something like the sea or the Ocean. It’s so vast and deep and not much of it has been explored there is so much danger and unknown hidden within it I can’t help be frightened by it” The words feel jumbled and clanky as they are spoken, something like this has always been difficult to explain to others who don't understand the feeling themselves. Rafayel would simply nod his head with a soft hum of affirmation to your words. “I understand, it's less so the water itself, but what lives in it that disturbs you?” He spoke calmly with no judgement or malice within his speech. “I guess so, it's just… really embarrassing not being able to do normal things like swim in the sea or get on a boat without feeling so anxious, I really hope I haven't ruined our visit today because of this”

The low sound of his chuckle catches your attention, but it's not directed at you at least not in a mocking way more so out of affection. His free hand comes up to tilt your chin up so that your gaze meets his once more “Cutie… nothing can ruin my time when you’re here beside me there's no need to worry about that” he reassures you with a loving smile on his lips. “Besides, we can work on this together, I can be your tour guide for the world that lies beneath the waves… It’ll all be at your own pace and you can trust me to have you safely within my reach the whole time, what do you think?” He proposes the suggestion. You mull about it for a few moments before sighing softly “I think… that would be nice, but for today can you just stay here like this, let's leave the sea tour guide for another day” Rafayel would simply nod his head with a helpless grin leaning in to press his lips to your forehead “Of course, Cutie, like I said you set the pace alight?” the mumbled promise falls from his lips. Gentle waves of water crash onto the shore before being pulled back in by the tide a soothing sound to filling in the background as you and Rafayel spend the rest of your day at the beach collecting the prettiest shells and even spotting a few crabs hanging around in little rock pools left behind by the tide.

[thebunnednun]

Golden Afternoon

Pairing: Monkey D. Luffy x StrawHat! Reader

You and your caption relax together during a sunset before dinner.

Reader is GN and it can be read as platonic or romantic.

On with the show!!~

The sun was beginning its descent, casting a golden glow over the deck of the Thousand Sunny. The ship rocked gently with the rhythm of the ocean, creating a soothing cadence that matched the lazy afternoon. You and Luffy were nestled in his hammock, its soft fabric cradling you both in a cocoon of warmth and comfort.

The world around you was tranquil; the crew was taking a well-deserved break, lounging around and enjoying the serene atmosphere. The breeze from the ocean was a refreshing contrast against the fading warmth of the afternoon sun. It drifted over your shoulders, carrying with it the salty tang of the sea and the gentle scent of the ship's wood.

Luffy's tan skin was a comforting warmth against you as he held you close. His presence was both grounding and comforting, his rhythmic humming a soft backdrop to the sounds of the ship. His hand threaded through your locs with a tender, rhythmic touch, while the other caressed the gentle curve of your back. The sensation of his fingers brushing against your skin was soothing, a perfect counterpoint to the cooling breeze.

He whispered softly, his breath tickling your ear, urging you to look at the horizon. You shifted onto your elbows slightly, feeling the hammock adjust to your movement as Luffy helped you turn over. His touch was gentle, lifting his straw hat from your head and guiding you so that you could face the lights rays. As you settled back into his embrace, you were now lying with your back against his chest, his legs intertwined with yours. The sunset painted the sky in rich hues of orange and pink, a vibrant contrast against the deepening blue of the ocean.

You propped yourself up slightly, eager to see the light reflecting off the water. The golden red hues of the sun danced across the waves, creating a shimmering path that seemed to lead right to the horizon. As the sun made its final dip, Chopper's voice rang out with cheerful enthusiasm. "Good night, Sun!" he called out, his voice filled with innocent delight. It was a simple, heartfelt moment that made you smile.

Sanji, ever the diligent chef, stood up from his seat and began to serve dinner, the aroma of his cooking wafting through the air. The colors of the sky continued to shift, the vibrant blues and oranges giving way to cooler shades of pink and dusky purple. A few stars began to peek out from the deepening sky, twinkling softly in the fading light.

Luffy's cheeky, playful smile never wavered as he pressed his cheek gently against your shoulder. You looked down to find him gazing up at you with a bright, infectious grin. His eyes sparkled with warmth and affection, and it made your own smile widen. You leaned into him, pressing your nose against his cheek, and let your foreheads rest together in a tender, intimate gesture.

The world seemed to slow down, the beauty of the sunset and the closeness of Luffy creating a moment of pure, unspoken calm. The gentle caress of the breeze, and the warmth of Luffy’s embrace all combined to make this moment feel timeless and perfect. You felt at peace, wrapped in the simple joy of being together, as the sky continued to change colors and the stars took their places in the evening sky.

The moon was just beginning to peek out from behind the horizon when Sanji’s voice rang out, "Come on, you two, dinner!"

Luffy didn't need to be told twice. With an excited gleam in his eyes, he scrambled out of the hammock, taking you with him in one fluid motion. His arms were strong and steady as he lifted you effortlessly, your squeals of delight mingling with his joyful laughter. The two of you tumbled onto the deck, giggling like children as Luffy steadied you both.

The crew watched on, their faces illuminated with affection. Zoro smirked, leaning casually against the railing, while Nami and Robin exchanged knowing smiles. Usopp chuckled, shaking his head at Luffy’s boundless energy, and Franky gave a thumbs-up, his grin as wide as ever. Chopper clapped his hooves together in delight, his eyes shining with happiness.

Luffy's excitement was infectious, and you couldn't help but smile as he carried you toward the promise of a delicious meal and the warmth of your friends. 

You’d be asleep in his arms again soon enough.

Taglist: @orange-milky @xxsliverwolfxx @mochiclouds @m0rona @thealtofvalleyxdoodles

I own none of the art or characters!!

Posted on the ao3 account soon.

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I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

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