#and he is happy. he is the grand master. he knows all

[aventurineswife]

Can you write Aventurine confessing but the reader knows him since he first joined the IPC even before he became Aventurine and became real close with him in all those years?

A Fragile Ace

Summary: Aventurine finally confesses his feelings to you after years of shared history. Having known him since his earliest days as Kakavasha, you’ve seen through the mask he wears for the world. In a rare moment of vulnerability, Aventurine admits his fear of losing you, forcing both of you to confront the depth of your bond and the risk of taking this gamble on love.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Slow Burn, Confession, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Vulnerable Aventurine, Emotional Depth, Found Family Themes, Subtle Intimacy, Past Trauma.

Warnings: Mentions of Aventurine's traumatic past (slavery, loss, and survivor's guilt), Emotional vulnerability, Mild angst.

The dimly lit room had always been a place of refuge for the two of you, a hidden pocket in the IPC's grand headquarters where you could talk without the weight of authority looming over you.

The walls, dark mahogany with a slight sheen, were lined with abstract art depicting various scenes of risk—cards, dice, wheels—all symbolic of the strange games that seemed to follow Aventurine wherever he went. The room smelled faintly of leather and tobacco, the only remnants of the old days before Aventurine rose to power.

You sat across from him, as you had countless times before, a glass of something dark in your hand. His eyes, those mesmerizing eyes, met yours across the table. There was something in his gaze tonight—something that didn’t quite match the usual glint of mischief, or the distant smirk that so often played on his lips.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” you observed, setting your glass down gently.

Aventurine leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping the edge of his glass, an almost imperceptible sign of his unease. For someone who thrived on high-stakes gambles and effortlessly controlled every situation, this was unusual. You'd known him too long to not recognize the signs—his mask, the one he wore so carefully, was slipping.

“I suppose I’m just... contemplating the odds,” he said, his voice soft, almost too soft for the man who typically commanded attention in every room.

You raised an eyebrow, folding your arms. You had seen him at his most reckless, his most calculating, and even at his lowest. He’d been Kakavasha—the young, desperate man in the IPC’s lowest ranks before he reinvented himself as Aventurine. You were there, watching him climb, step by step, from someone too afraid to trust anyone to the master strategist who now stood as one of the Ten Stonehearts.

“Is that so?” you asked, your tone more knowing than curious. “Seems like you're the kind of person who loves to control the game, but tonight... you’re letting the odds control you.”

His eyes flickered, an almost imperceptible sign that you'd hit too close to the truth. But then, with a quicksilver flash of his usual charm, he grinned, shaking his head slightly.

"Maybe you think too highly of me," he replied with a chuckle, but the laughter didn't quite reach his eyes. It was a rehearsed sound, a shield. "I’m just here to play, same as always."

You met his gaze and didn't look away. There were so many things you knew about him—his past, his fears, the emotional toll every risk and every victory had taken. So many things that no one else saw. You didn’t need him to say anything for you to understand. You both had seen the scars on his soul, hidden beneath layers of strategies and games.

The silence stretched between you like an open bet.

"You're not fooling me, Aventurine," you said finally, using the name that had become so tied to his persona, the one that everyone saw. "I know you. I knew you before all this. The man who took on the IPC, not as a conqueror, but as someone who was always running from something. You’ve played your part so long that I think even you’ve forgotten what’s behind the mask.”

His lips tightened for a moment, the only hint that your words had found their mark. His hand gripped the armrest, his knuckles white, before he forced his fingers to relax.

"You’ve always been too observant," he said, his voice quieter now. "I suppose that's one of the reasons I keep you around. You see what no one else does."

You smiled faintly. “Someone has to. I’ve been here, watching you win and lose, playing with lives like they’re just another piece on the board. But you're the one who gets left behind when the game’s over.”

Aventurine's expression softened, just for a moment, before he regained his composure. He stood, moving to the window to stare out at the city below. The lights sparkled like chips in a high-stakes game.

“You know, I’ve never been one for sentiment," he said, his voice low but not unkind. "But you’ve been with me through everything. Through the games, through the chaos. You've seen my worst, and still, here you are.”

You watched him, noting the slight hesitation in his usual confident demeanor. This was new—a break in his armor.

"What are you trying to say, Aventurine?" you asked, your voice softening, as if you understood the weight behind his words before they were even spoken.

He turned to face you then, his eyes darker than you’d ever seen them. The usual sparkle of calculated risk was gone, replaced by something far more vulnerable. Something raw.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. The words felt foreign coming from him, as if they had been locked away for far too long. "I don’t know what the odds are of keeping you in my life... but I’d rather lose everything else than lose you."

You blinked, stunned, unsure of what to say. Aventurine—a man who had spent years weaving intricate webs of manipulation, who made people feel like they were always one step behind him—was confessing... vulnerability.

He looked at you with an intensity you had never seen before, his usual bravado replaced by something you had only glimpsed in fleeting moments. The man you’d known, the boy who had once been Kakavasha, was standing before you, stripped of his usual games, his usual tricks.

And for the first time in years, he seemed genuinely afraid.

“I—” he started, and for once, there was no smirk, no teasing. Just the raw honesty of someone who had gambled with his life for so long that admitting any form of attachment felt like losing.

Before he could finish, you stood and walked to him, closing the distance between you both. With a steady hand, you placed it on his shoulder.

"You don’t have to gamble this one," you whispered.

Aventurine, Kakavasha, whatever he called himself, had lived a life of risking it all. But now, for the first time, you knew he wasn’t talking about a bet. This was something real. Something he couldn't control with strategy. Something he couldn’t hide behind a game of chance.

You didn’t need to say anything more. The unspoken understanding between you was enough. Because after all these years, you'd both found your own odds to beat, and maybe—just maybe—this time, it would be together.

[2n2n]

ohhh now that youve said that you feel like tsukasa having a crush on nene is canon, can you show panels/moments that you feel solidify it? i really like that aspect but to me it always felt a bit more like a fascination on tsukasas side,,, 'what girl is amane so enamoured with?' id love to be convinced... also, do you think nene in some way also likes tsukasa? or is does she see him purely as amanes (creepy, adorable) younger brother? either way,,, tsunene my beloved,,, tragically overlooked by almost everyone </3

I can't say Tsukasa is completely self-aware of his crush on Nene-chan, but I think he enjoys & looks forward to interactions with her in a unique way...

he clearly sees her as Amane's Property, this obviously tempers him & I don't think he sees himself 'having a chance' with her or ever being liked back ..... but I think over their years & timelines of intersection, he on-and-off feels something flickering in his chest for her. But I think it's rather obscured to Tsukasa himself, who has only had the priority of Amane, for his entire life.

It's irrelevant what he might like, or want. It couldn't mean less, in the grand fate of the world, that he feels something for Nene-chan. His purpose is to die for Amane's happiness. Not seek his own. He isn't important in that way. He's not meant to have this ending.

I think hints are peppered in their entire dynamic-- the very trusting of Amane's life story & fate to Nene-chan speaks to a very charitable view of her, in my opinion. She's key to everything. Tsukasa surely sees this as a special, sacred, wonderful thing... Amane's heart, Amane's happiness, Amane's future. He's willing to open dozens of doors to give it all to Nene-chan. That in and of itself is an act of love, to me .... I guess in some way, I don't think it could be less? He must see her as lovable. It must be clear this is the person who can deliver Amane a happy future, finally. Something he could never give Amane.

I can name a few small moments that give me pause... when Tsukasa forsakes his own body by impulsively rushing to catch Nene-chan, he's shocked/confused at his own impulse to do that. As he plummets, holding her....

it's small, but sweet.

for the Clockkeepers arc, Tsukasa is seemingly convinced his journey is almost 'over'.

They can peel the Clockkeeper's yorishiro, Mitsuba is being dealt with by Natsuhiko, & he anticipates Nene-chan handling him.

Maybe there's no better time to give her one single kiss, before he'll be vanished for good to bring about Amane's ideal future.

we're so close. He can have one little moment, at the very end.

.... I really think Aida-sensei is a master of quiet, deliberate paneling. Moments that give you pause. this soft, brief panel of Tsukasa parting from kissing Nene-chan, suggests something strongly, to me. This isn't entirely a silly gesture.

In their first meeting on the roof, Tsukasa pulls Nene-chan close, & his expression confuses her, but is obfuscated to us. I think this is a reveal we're waiting for Nene-chan to reflect back on, at the right moment.... but for now, it still doesn't make sense to her.

small still....

I can't think of another reason why kid Tsukasa was DOGGED!!!! even ANGRY!!!!! about forcing Kou to tell him if he'd kissed Nene-chan, & then subsequently pleased when Kou confirms he hasn't.

................ but to be honest, the 'biggest hint' is just, the entire way scenes & panels with them are framed, drawn, handled, written, emphasized, important to the story. How to say this. Images are drawn a certain way for a reason, to make you think about the possibility of something, to suggest it. Nothing is accidental.

I think AidaIro-sensei dance around Nene-chan & Tsukasa in a delicate way, & drop interactions between them very preciously, peppered at core beats of the story, nothing superfluous, always making you feel mystified & drawn into a strange miasma. That's uhmmmm, cinematography or whatever ........ you know ? There's a certain 'feeling'.

to me, I think "it's obvious from the structure of the overarching narrative, that this is a story where both twins fall in love with the same girl"................ also, AidaIro-sensei have literally written a story about exactly that before ......................................... and it shares plenty of similarities in structure to JSHK.

would you believe one even only kisses her before he's planning to kill himself....

So uhm... to me, it goes without saying. It's why there is a set of twins, and a girl, and not, some unrelated bishie or villain mans. It's why images like this exist.

I feel like ...................... just genre savvy????????????????????????? ANYONE ELSE READ MANGA?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? DOUJINSHI??????????? I feel like I'm going crazy. of course both twins will entangle with her.

it's like recognizing a song is folk or jazz. Like YEP, many such images, many such manga! I wonder if anyone else has ever paroozed a lot of girly romance manga or twin-centric media .... like. Yeah .......... the-- there's 2, for .......... the girl . yeah!! Obviously ... and, she'll have teasy scenes with the two of them. Yeah!!! AS YOU KNOW. It's like recognizing the tempo of a song, saying ahh yes, this is Jungle!

I feel so certain about it I feel confused I have to try to defend it, or others don't see it plainly.

Me I see Nene-chan suddenly getting to embrace a baby Tsukasa and I go OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! its THAT kind of manga... I see. & then I play Narisokonai Snow White & I'm like fuck lol oh but seriously for real though... yeah. Obviously. You have your mainline twin & your tragic loves-her-too-but-fated-to-die twin.... I love AidaIro-sensei but they're not inventing the wheel... there are tropes in here. Recognizable patterns....

meanwhile as for Nene-chan. I think she's a slut & obviously cannot control from having horny fantasies about two guys lusting after her, that is canon. She daydreams of harems. Though it's pretty unserious & she's not very earnest about how she feels about that (I think it just makes her feel hot & desirable.......). This is pretty fuckin charitable to Tsukasa if you ask me.

I think if we looked into Tsukasa's mind & Nene-chan was like a hot seductive babe we'd all be like WHOAAAA!!!!!!!

she low key flushes & awaits the thought of Tsukasa, having isolated her, suddenly pursuing her.... nooo~ don't ~~~ ahhh~~ oh no~~~ but I'm, taken~~ already, I....! Love your brother.....! No you, can't/////////////....

I would describe her as "disappointed that is not what is happening" here, lol

I think Nene-chan is just in the early stages of intrigue & interest in Tsukasa's nature, closer to where she was at with early manga Amane... still capable of complete denial. Curious, about the depth, while also flippantly writing off the possibility of anything 'happening' between them. I think there are moments.... Tsukasa has the same melancholy that draws her to Amane, & she's just a tiny bit seduced.

I think there's a moment he's comforting, beautiful...

but, we're only just starting to explore this.

Personally what I'm waiting for, is a prolonged situation of Nene-chan & Tsukasa alone, perhaps in a circumstance similar to what drew Nene-chan & Amane closer.... ? maybe that's what's happening now, in the current arc. I can't say. But I could see it being the next logical step.

If Amane wasn't there, if she only had Tsukasa for comfort ... I wonder what could happen. I think many feelings could develop, but be confusing with the context of her already loving Amane. It could feel misdirected, or as a result of sheer lonesomeness, them being twins ..... that kind of assumption could have her refusing to acknowledge any of it. But she was reluctant & resistant to love Amane, in the first place. So she can be reluctant & resistant towards Tsukasa, too. It's the Nene-chan way.

[imwritesometimes]

my uncle is the kinda ~leftist~ guy who will say shit like 'DEI is essential to ensuring women are properly recognized and compensated' and 'I'm pro-choice and donate to planned parenthood' and then 30 minutes later will say the most vile, misogynistic shit about his own mother & sister with the ease of someone ordering off the dollar menu at mcdonalds

[ahqkas]

Hello! ^^

First, just wanna say your blog is amazing. Second, what kind of shenanigans do you think would ensue with the batboys having a hyper physically clingy S/O? Like their S/O would get so excited they're home and just tackle hug them before they make it past the door kind of clingy.

♯ FRIDAY I’M IN LOVE . . . ( the batboys ! )

— gn!reader, fluff

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

BRUCE WAYNE

bruce wayne, the ever-composed patriarch of the family, would at first have no idea how to handle such enthusiasm. his s/o being hyper-physically affectionate would probably throw him completely off-balance at first—not because he doesn’t enjoy the affection but because he’s not used to being greeted like that.

( the door creaks open as bruce steps inside the manor, still half-lost in the grim report alfred had handed him earlier. before he even sets his briefcase down, a blur barrels toward him, arms wide, a gleeful shout of his name ringing through the grand hall.

he braces himself instinctively like he’s about to be tackled by a rogue metahuman. “wait—” is all he manages before you collide with him, wrapping him in a bear hug strong enough to make his muscles tense. for a second, bruce freezes like a deer in headlights.

“miss me?” you grin, cheek pressed to his chest as you sway him back and forth like a tree in a storm.

bruce glances down, trying to maintain the stoic facade, but his lips twitch, betraying the barest hint of amusement. “you know, most people say hello first.”

alfred passes by with an arched brow and a muttered, “at least you don’t end up unconscious, master wayne.”

he sighs, exasperated but secretly endeared. he knows by now resistance is futile. one hand rests awkwardly on your back, the other fumbling to steady the files tucked under his arm. “you’re going to sprain something one day,” he murmurs, though there’s a faint warmth in his tone. )

the first time you tackle-hugged him after patrol, bruises and all, bruce immediately went into “are you hurt?” mode despite being the one who should be resting. “you can’t just launch yourself at me like that—you could get hurt,” he’d chide, even as he gently pulls you closer to make sure you’re okay.

alfred would quietly revel in the sheer domestication of bruce’s typically aloof charge. “ah, nothing like unrestrained enthusiasm to balance out your brooding, sir.”

DICK GRAYSON

dick grayson would be all in for having a hyper-physically affectionate s/o. the guy thrives on connection, and someone who matches his energy—or even outpaces it—would not only make him laugh but also make him feel completely loved. if anything, your clingy antics would ignite a bit of playful competition as dick tries to out-affection you, though he’d absolutely let you win most of the time.

( the moment he unlocks the door after a patrol, the creak of the hinges is your signal to strike. without hesitation, you launch yourself at him like a projectile, arms wide and grinning ear to ear.

“dick!”

“whoa—!” he yelps, barely managing to catch you before you tackle him into the doorframe. one arm wraps around your waist while the other steadies both of you. “are you trying to kill me, or…?” he teases, his voice light with laughter.

“i’m just so happy you’re home!” you say, nuzzling into his neck.

“yeah? well, i love being tackled the moment i step inside,” he says sarcastically, but the grin splitting his face is entirely genuine. “i mean, forget taking off my boots or hanging up my jacket—this is exactly what i needed.” he spins you around for good measure, making you laugh as he carries you further inside. )

dick would absolutely take your clinginess as a challenge to see who could be more over-the-top. you tackle-hug him at the door? he’ll scoop you up and spin you. you randomly leap on his back during a walk? he’ll carry you piggyback all the way home. it’s basically a constant competition to outdo each other.

one time, you caught him mid-workout and tried to climb on his back during push-ups. he pretended to be annoyed but ended up laughing so hard he couldn’t finish his reps. “you’re impossible,” he’d say between laughs, letting you sit on his back as he fake-struggled to keep going.

JASON TODD

jason todd would act like he didn’t know how to handle having such a clingy and affectionate s/o, but deep down, he’d secretly live for it. the guy has been through hell and back, so having someone who’s so unapologetically excited to see him would catch him off-guard at first—but it would also heal a part of him he didn’t know was still raw. he might grumble, roll his eyes, and mutter sarcastic quips, but the way he’d instinctively hold onto you would give away just how much he craves your affection.

( jason walks through the apartment door, shoulders tense from a long night of patrol, his helmet tucked under one arm. he barely gets two steps inside before the sound of your excited yell fills the air.

“jay!”

before he can react, you’re barreling toward him, all wild energy and open arms. “oh, shi—” the rest of his curse is cut off as you launch yourself at him, practically climbing him like a tree. he stumbles back a step, caught off-guard but reflexively wrapping his arms around you to keep you both steady.

“missed me?” you ask with a grin, nuzzling into his neck as your legs wrap around his waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

jason sighs, trying to sound exasperated but failing miserably. “miss you? you act like i’ve been gone for months. i was literally out for, what, five hours?”

“too long,” you mumble into his shoulder, squeezing him tighter.

despite his words, you feel his shoulders relax as he hugs you back. “you’re ridiculous, you know that?” he says softly, his voice a little rough around the edges but warm. )

jason would never stop pretending to grumble about your antics. “do you have to tackle me every time i walk through the door? my ribs aren’t exactly indestructible.” but if you ever didn’t tackle him, he’d immediately notice. “what, no welcome-home ambush? you mad at me or something?”

he would absolutely start using your clinginess against you. if he wanted your attention, he’d dramatically throw himself onto the couch and groan, “i can’t go on. i need one of your hugs to survive.”

TIM DRAKE

tim drake would initially be overwhelmed by having such a physically clingy s/o, mostly because he’s used to people respecting his personal bubble—or just not being that excited to see him. but once he got past the initial shock, he’d secretly love it, even if he was absolutely terrible at expressing that in words. your affectionate antics would constantly fluster him, but he’d quickly become addicted to the way you made him feel wanted and cared for.

( if you interrupted tim in the middle of one of his all-nighters, the results would be like this: imagine him sitting at his desk, surrounded by coffee cups and glowing monitors, so hyper-focused that he doesn’t even hear you sneaking up behind him.

suddenly, your arms wrap around his shoulders, and you rest your chin on top of his head. “hi,” you whisper, making him jump so hard he almost knocks over his coffee.

“[name]!” he hisses, spinning around to glare at you, his heart racing.

“sorry, couldn’t resist,” you say with a cheeky grin, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple.

tim sighs, trying to look annoyed, but the light blush creeping up his neck gives him away. “you’re ridiculous,” he mutters, but instead of pushing you away, he pulls you into his lap, his arms wrapping securely around your waist. “if i let you stay, will you let me finish his report?”

“no promises.” )

your ambushes would frequently catch tim off-guard, leading to spilled coffee, toppled stacks of paperwork, and at least one destroyed keyboard. “[name], i love you, but you’re going to bankrupt me in tech replacements,” he’d grumble while cleaning up the latest mess.

he would eventually start using your affection as an excuse to take breaks. if you tackled him while he was working, he’d let out a long-suffering sigh and say, “fine. five minutes. but only because you’re so insistent.” cue you dragging him to the couch for cuddles while he pretends to be annoyed.

ADDITIONAL NOTE! if you like my work , please consider reblogging and / or commenting ! thank you if you do 🤍

[my-castles-crumbling]

five - february 21 - black brothers - background jegulus - @black-brothers-microfic - cw: orion and walburga black are pieces of shit, but it's vague - word count: 613

Regulus Black had always been an insufferably serious person. Sirius always liked to joke that they'd been named incorrectly- Regulus was the one who never smiled, after all. But by the time he and Regulus escaped home at ages fifteen and sixteen, Sirius could only remember a grand total of five times that Regulus had really, truly smiled.

I

The first had, of course, been his first smile. Baby Regulus had been almost as emotionless as his teenage counterpart, hardly any tears or smiles, but the one time he had grinned, Sirius had caught it. And oh, it had been a sight to behold. A beautiful flash of gums followed by a little angelic giggle. Sirius's stomach had filled with joy as he'd smiled in return, so happy to see his baby brother happy.

Of course, it had been cut off quickly, when Mother had yelled so loudly, Regulus had started to cry.

II

The second time had been when they were small. Regulus had learned quickly that emotions weren't tolerated in the Black household and was a master of hiding them. But once, while they were hidden away in Sirius's room, reading a book that he had stolen from the local Muggle library, Sirius had caught it: the fleeting glimpse of glittering eyes and shining white teeth as Regulus had listened to Sirius read to him.

The feeling of seeing his brother smile had gotten him through insufferable meals for moths after.

III

The third time was when Sirius came home from his first year at Hogwarts. It had been so long since they'd seen each other, and though Sirius had written weekly, he'd felt like there was a gaping chasm in his chest where Regulus ought to be. So when a very stoic-looking Mother and Father greeted him on the platform, he ignored them. He instead focused on Regulus, who grinned from ear-to-ear, pulling him into a hug.

That hug and that smile helped him through one of the worst summers of his life.

IV

The fourth time was, of course, when Regulus got his own Hogwarts letter. Eleven-year-old Regulus looked like he was going to cry with happiness when he opened the thick envelope, and Sirius wanted to cry with pride along with him.

Of course, Mother and Father immediately ruined it by reminding Regulus that he better be a Slytherin 'or else.'

V

The fifth, and most recent, time was when Regulus had caught the Snitch in his first school Quidditch game, winning for Slytherin.

Sirius knew he was supposed to be rooting for Ravenclaw, but he couldn't help himself: seeing his brother smile like that made him scream his head off, pride swelling in his chest as he watched Regulus lifted on the shoulders of the other players.

+1

But now...now they were here. Showing up at the front door of the Potter residence in the middle of the night after what could only be described as the most horrific week of Sirius's life. He expected Regulus to be even more closed-off than usual. He expected him to maybe even cry, or scream.

But when James opened the door, and he and Regulus locked eyes...

Regulus broke into the biggest, most adoring, relieved smile Sirius had ever seen. And he watched as his brother rushed into James's arms, gripping him tightly like if he didn't, he would disappear.

And in that moment, Sirius realized that while he was a bit annoyed that he hadn't been told about something (because he was smart enough to know that friends didn't embrace like that), he absolutely didn't care. Because anyone who made Regulus smile like that was absolutely perfect for him.

[punkshort]

Swept Away: Season Two

Chapter Two: Kokomo

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: The first few days back in Fiji was heaven on earth - until things start to unravel.

Chapter Warnings: language, reader has long-ish hair, fluff, smut (18+ MDNI), alcohol and food consumption, wedding talk, possessiveness, jealousy, mention of OC substance abuse, an air of mystery, perhaps?

WC: 7.4K

Series Masterlist

A/N: inspired by this ask. I should also mention I have some personal stuff going on that I've been struggling with and yesterday things took a nose dive — I haven't been on here as much as usual but I'll try to hop on when I have the ability. Thank you for understanding ❤️

It had only been a couple days at The Parador and Joel had warned you repeatedly the hotel wasn't fully operational yet, to expect some things to not be ready or up to snuff, but so far it felt like literal heaven on earth. Waking up the past few mornings with the warm sea breeze floating in through the open doors of your bedroom, laying next to the man you loved more than anything, your future husband, while exotic birds sang somewhere outside had you on cloud nine.

The first day you arrived, you had wandered around the villa in awe. There were three bedrooms, including the master, and each had its own ensuite bathroom. You realized right away your parents easily could have stayed with you, but you didn't say anything to Joel. Deep down, you appreciated the privacy, and you had a feeling Joel wanted the same. The way your parents acted any time you mentioned Joel or the wedding was really starting to gnaw at you, and resentment was burning brighter than you let on.

Granted, your relationship with your parents hadn't always been great. Growing up in their house had its challenges. You and your mother butt heads a lot and your father had a tendency to work as much as possible, creating a void between you during the most formative years in your life. It was around the time you announced you were moving to Los Angeles for college that you felt your relationship with them crumble even more. They absolutely hated the idea of you living in L.A. — preconceived notions of the city they read online had your mother convinced you would be homeless and your father thinking you would "fall into the wrong crowd". But once you graduated and got a job at a production company, you thought their minds would be put at ease, so you did your best to repair that relationship. As more time passed and the phone calls became shorter and more uncomfortable, you began to wonder if they had hoped you would fail just so you would have to move back home, proving them right.

All of that aside, getting engaged and moving in with Joel should have shown them how happy and successful you were. They should have been happy, too. Yet, they still held back, refusing to get to know Joel better or talk much about your engagement.

It was the only dark cloud over an otherwise amazing time in your life, so you were ultimately glad Joel decided to book them a villa in a different hotel instead of sharing a room. The last thing you wanted was for them to ruin the grand opening of The Parador with their negativity looming around every corner. Both you and Joel worked so hard on the hotel, you deserved to enjoy yourselves.

And enjoy yourselves, you did. It was your third day on the island and even Joel couldn't resist how spectacular it felt to be back in paradise. He looked so relaxed and happy that it was hard to remember you were technically there to work, with some wedding planning scheduled during the quieter parts of your days. But it didn't stop either of you from lounging by the pool or beach whenever you could with your phones and laptops while upbeat music played softly through the speakers surrounding the area. It surprised you at first, to see Joel so relaxed during a workday. It was a far cry from the way he behaved the last time you were in Fiji.

Another thing you certainly didn't recall him doing the last time you were there was having a cocktail or two with lunch. He had grown particularly fond of frozen drinks, something that always made you giggle when you saw him sipping around all the fruit and a fancy umbrella, shoulders shifting slightly in rhythm with the music.

"What?" he asked hazily from his lounge chair when he heard you. His sunglasses were perched on the tip of his nose and his lips were wrapped around the bright pink straw of his piña colada.

"Nothing. I'm just loving this side of you," you grinned. His laptop sat open at the end of his chair but right next to it was a book he had been reading, spread open and face down while he ate. "Can't wait to see more of this relaxed Joel on our honeymoon."

You could tell by the way his cheeks were slightly pink and the glassy look in his eye that he was just a little tipsy when his eyebrow arched at the topic of your honeymoon.

"'Bout that," he said, putting the fancy glass down next to him. "Have you decided where you wanna go?"

You shrugged and shook your head. "Maybe Italy? Or Costa Rica?"

"What 'bout Paris?" he asked before leaning back in his chair with a sigh.

"Maybe," you said, pursing your lips in thought. "Not many opportunities to see you in those swim trunks in Paris, though."

Joel grinned and turned his head to look at you over his sunglasses. "You like me on the beach, huh?"

You giggled, making his smile spread even wider.

"You do seem at home on the beach."

He pushed his sunglasses back up to the bridge of his nose and took another sip from his drink. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his email program pop up with an alert in the corner of his laptop screen, but he didn't seem to give a shit. The sun felt so nice and it was indescribably peaceful, sitting in your own private garden-slash-patio while the waves crashed lightly against the sandy shore not too far away. The sound drew Joel's attention and he turned his head, watching the foamy crests splash down onto the smooth sand. Then, a thought occurred to him and he frowned.

He remembered a time from your first week on the island, back when he had hired you to pretend to be his fiancée. When you first met Glenn, you made up a story about how Joel proposed to you on the beach in Santa Monica. Later, when he asked if that's what you always wanted, you shrugged it off. I tried to think of the most romantic thing possible and it just popped into my head, you had said. Joel turned back to you and took off his sunglasses.

"Should I have proposed to you on the beach?"

Your head snapped up from your phone in surprise. "What?"

"That story you told Glenn, when we were—"

"No!" you exclaimed, sitting up in your chair. "I love how you proposed to me. Both times!" you added, holding up both hands and making him grin. "You could have proposed to me literally anywhere and I would have said yes. I already told you, Joel," you scooted closer and leaned forward to cup his face with both your hands. "I love you so much, I would marry you anywhere. All the rest of this... stuff—" you jutted your chin towards your phone, where you had been replying to an email from Nadia, "—it's just for fun. It doesn't really matter. This is all that matters."

You pressed your lips lightly to his, feeling him smile before leaning back and dropping your hands to your lap.

"Hopeless romantic," Joel teased, his dark eyes sparkling and playful. You just giggled and shook your head at the familiar accusation. When you picked your phone back up to finish your email, Joel groaned and suddenly jumped up from his chair.

"I fuckin' love this song," he announced before swaying his hips. He began to sing softly to himself as he shuffled around the edge of the pool, and it wasn't until he was further away that you heard the lyrics to Kokomo filtering through the speakers.

"C'mon, pretty mama," Joel called, swiveling around and holding out his arms for you. "Dance with me, baby," he added, smirking while slowly bobbing his shoulders and mouthing the words in your direction. You burst out laughing and shook your head.

"You're drunk!"

"I ain't drunk, I'm fuckin' happy!" Joel exclaimed loudly. His chin tilted towards the clear blue sky and closed his eyes while he continued to move from side to side around the patio. When he stumbled a bit, you laughed and tossed your phone on the table so you could join him.

"Be careful, you're going to trip," you scolded playfully, wrapping your arms around his bare torso and resting your chin on his warm, sun-kissed chest.

"Maybe I should get you another ring and propose on the beach," Joel murmured, gazing down at you. He was still swaying, pulling you with him as he spoke.

"Don't you fucking dare."

He laughed and his hands settled on your hips, tugging you close so you could move in sync with the music.

"Alright, fine," he relented, slowly spinning you both in a circle. "Least let's play this at the wedding."

"Kokomo? You want to dance to Kokomo in front of all your super rich buddies?"

"Yeah, what's wrong with it?" he asked with a little concerned crease between his brows. The earnest look on his face had you melting on the spot.

"Nothing," you said softly. You swiped your thumb over his frown, smoothing it out before stretching onto your tiptoes to kiss the corner of his mouth. "We can dance to Kokomo, I think it's perfect."

His lips captured yours before you could pull away, forcing you to sway back and forth on the balls of your feet with your chest against his. In the background, you could hear the final few lyrics of the song fade out, a new one starting right on its heels. It was a faster tempo, but Joel kept you both moving slow, your hips pressed together while his tongue pushed languidly into your mouth. He tasted sweet, like coconut and pineapple with just the faintest hint of rum.

You made a pleased little sound in the back of your throat when you felt him begin to harden through his swim trunks. Pulling back and grinning when he chased after your lips, you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck and asked, "Getting all hot and bothered, Mr. Miller?"

"Don't know what you're talkin' 'bout," he insisted, lips finding a home on your neck. "You're lookin' a little warm, though," he added, tilting his head and switching to the other side of your throat. Your eyelids fluttered when his teeth grazed your pulse point. "Maybe it's you who's feelin' hot?"

You swallowed tightly before answering.

"It's really hot," you whispered.

"What is?" Joel asked, lips puckering around your skin, leaving a trail of wet kisses in his wake.

"The s-sun," you stammered. Obviously. But both of you were beginning to forget what you were talking about.

Joel hummed and walked you backwards a step or two, his arms wrapped around you tightly, preventing you from tripping.

Or so you thought.

"I got just the thing for that."

"Huh?" you asked hazily with your eyes still closed and your fingers getting tangled in his hair. But before you even had a chance to scream, Joel twisted around, tightened his grip around your waist, and jumped backwards into the pool, pulling you down with him.

The water was heated but it was still a shock to the system. You screeched underwater and kicked away, propelling yourself out of his arms and to the surface for air. You gasped and snapped your eyes open, hair plastered to your face as you whipped back and forth until Joel emerged from the water, laughing and reaching for you again.

"Oh, I don't think so!" you exclaimed, and before he could get his hands on you, you kicked off the wall of the pool, giving yourself the advantage and swimming away.

Your fingers grazed the railing of the steps. You were so close, but then Joel's hand wrapped around your ankle, tugging you back across the water as you screamed and giggled until he had you flipped around, lifting you up so he could wrap his arms and legs around you, immobilizing you completely.

"Where y'goin', baby?" he breathed, "Don't it feel good?"

Panting, you gazed up at him through your wet lashes. He looked so genuinely happy and at ease, it took your breath away. You couldn't stop admiring him; the sparkle in his eye, the dimple in his cheek, his broad shoulders... but the way the sun glittered on his tanned skin made you finally stop struggling. When he felt your muscles relax, his grip loosened.

"What?" he finally asked when you took too long to speak. You smiled and shook your head, then pulled him tighter again.

"How'd I get so lucky?" you whispered softly. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, deflecting the compliment, so instead you circled your arms around his neck and leaned in for a kiss. Under the water, his hands reached down to cup your ass, pulling you snug against his hips while you deepened the kiss with a moan.

Your chest felt light, heart tapping excitedly against your sternum with each touch and kiss. It was impossible to keep the smile from your face. How could you, when you were having the time of your life in paradise with the man who you planned to spend the rest of your life with?

"Speaking of—" Joel said breathlessly when he broke away. He massaged you underwater, fingers greedily stretching so he could grab as much of your ass as possible. Your eyes followed a drop of water that trickled from his hair and down the side of his face and you licked your lips. "Am I 'bout to get lucky, or what?"

"Here?" you questioned, but he just smirked and nodded.

"Why not? No one can see us."

You bit your lip and glanced around, trying not to let his roaming hands and his hot mouth on your neck distract you. He was right - there weren't any other guests in the hotel but even if there had been, the gardens and natural fauna surrounding the patio were too thick to see through.

Joel nipped at your throat, teeth gently pinching your wet skin and you sighed, relaxing into his hold. "O-okay," you whispered.

"Atta girl," Joel chuckled before swinging you around in the pool so your back was pressed against the side. Fortunately, it was the side facing the ocean. There was no concrete lip behind you so as to mimic the water merging with the horizon. It allowed you to comfortably rest your weight on your elbows, which were perched on the smooth tile edge, and lean back so Joel could pull your bikini bottoms off.

Before you met, Joel would never have been caught dead blowing off work in the middle of the day. He practically worked around the clock, his only focus in life being his company and what he could do to become more successful. But now, his focus remained firmly planted on you. Even back home, it didn't matter how busy he was, in the back of his mind he always thought of you, finding comfort in knowing you were somewhere in the building and just a phone call away.

But having you within arms reach in the middle of paradise proved to be harder for him to resist than he thought.

Just as quickly as he shed you of your swimsuit, he was back with one hand pressing flat against your spine, pushing your bodies together while his mouth continued to suck on your neck. Underwater, your legs wrapped around his waist, the movement feeling like quicksand, but you weren't sure if it was the buoyancy or the desire coursing through your veins that had you feeling sluggish.

Joel's hand dropped between you, fingers quickly undoing the tie on his shorts so he could loosen them around his hips. Meanwhile, his mouth found yours again, kissing you with a deep groan when his tongue slipped past your lips.

The pad of his finger caught on your clit, making you whine as the familiar heat bloomed between your legs. Your hips rolled forward, chasing his hand, wordlessly asking for more. A sly smile pulled across his mouth and then he tore himself away, fingers still teasing featherlight strokes along your slit.

"I'll be right back," he said, pushing off the wall.

"Wh- what?" you stammered, eyelids fluttering. Joel took a deep breath then disappeared below the water and before you had a chance to process what was happening, his hands wrapped around your thighs and pulled you onto his mouth.

"Shit!" you cried out when you felt his hot tongue gliding through your lips. He ate at you messily underwater, knowing he would soon have to return for air left him unable to take his time and savor it like he normally would.

A flash of heat seared through you, a lightning bolt from the center of your legs that reached to every nerve ending in your body. Something about feeling weightless and having the ability to relax your muscles entirely while Joel alternated between fucking you with his tongue and sucking on your clit had you shaking in a matter of seconds.

When he tore himself away and crashed through the surface of the water with a frantic gasp for air, you had the audacity to pout. You whined his name and writhed against the side of the pool, causing him to smirk amidst catching his breath.

"What is it, baby?"

"You can't do that. That's teasing," you grumbled. He caught his lower lip between his teeth and grabbed your thighs underwater, spreading them apart roughly before growling, "Did I say I was done?"

He had about half a second to clock the delight in your face before he inhaled deeply and dove back under. His mouth seared against your pussy immediately, tongue probing and licking desperately until he needed more air.

It was a new sensation, being brought to the edge just to be pulled back when he needed to breathe. It had you clawing at his shoulders and murmuring filth in his ear every time he came up to recover, but you couldn't help yourself. Your ears were ringing and your body felt like every nerve ending was frayed whenever he tore his mouth away, but thankfully after being toyed with one too many times, his hand took the place of his mouth when he emerged.

"Fuck, look at you," he groaned, fingers working quickly under the water. Two thrusted inside you, curling and stretching while the heel of his palm massaged your clit. His free arm came to rest on the ledge behind you so his entire body ended up caging you in. When you peeled your eyes open, mouth agape and mind blurry, all you could see was Joel towering over you.

"Need you to come for me," he ground out through clenched teeth. "Need to fuck you, baby, c'mon, lemme see it."

Water splashed lightly near your shoulder from how fast Joel was working his wrist between your legs. It only took a few more slaps of his palm against your clit before your muscles tensed and your eyes rolled back with a low moan. Your hips rocked forward and you gasped as each wave of your climax shuddered through you, all the while crumbling under Joel's intense stare.

"That's it — feels good, huh?" Joel's lips found the underside of your jaw and began sucking lightly at your skin. "Pussy's so tight, squeezin' me so fuckin' good... that's it, you're alright, shh, so pretty like this. So fuckin' pretty—"

His mouth crashed over yours, silencing his ramblings and your moans until you relaxed and he slowly removed his fingers.

"Joel," you whimpered, chest heaving and heart racing. You reached for him, a trembling hand searching for him under the water, needing him just as badly as you needed oxygen in your lungs.

One leg hooked around his waist and a hand cupped the back of his neck. You felt delirious; lost entirely to the feeling only Joel was able to create. Everything about him, you loved. You loved how he knew you so well, in every way imaginable. You loved how he took care of you, protected you, worshiped you. All of those reasons and more told you he was the man you should spend the rest of your life with.

And if that wasn't enough, he somehow always managed to drag the most intense pleasure from you. He knew what you needed without you having to ask, undoing you every single time.

"Sure you're ready?" Joel breathed shakily, but he was already lining himself up, chin tucked into his chest, eyes peering through the water. You nodded and swallowed, fingers tightening around the back of his neck.

You felt him there, swollen tip resting against your opening, and you held your breath. Both of his hands held your hips steady, keeping you in place, and then his eyes flickered up to yours. All you saw reflected back was utter devotion when he pushed inside, each of you gasping in unison. You refused to look away, his dark eyes too magnetic, as his hands pulled you down onto his cock, nice and slow. He held your gaze until your hips sat flushed with his and he released you in favor of cupping your face. His mouth slanted over yours, nipping desperately at your lower lip while you fluttered and pulsed around him.

"How's that, huh?" His hips shifted, stretching you open and reaching the furthest depths of you. Your back arched off the side of the pool, gasping into his mouth.

"Fuck," you whined around the messy kisses Joel was peppering against your lips.

"Feel all of me in there?" He rolled his hips deliberately, touching lightly against a spot that had you grappling feverishly at the slippery curls on the back of his head.

"Fuck," you cursed again, "yeah. More, Joel, please."

"Yeah? Think you can handle it?" he asked, his mouth dropping to your chin, then your jaw. "Think this perfect fuckin' pussy can take it?"

You couldn't answer. All you could do was whimper pathetically, each snap of his hips driving the air straight from your lungs. But he didn't mind, because he was already too lost in the feel of you to demand an answer.

"You got no idea—" Joel grunted, slowing his hips when he felt himself nearing his peak too soon. He shifted his weight, wrapped an arm around the curve of your back under the water, and took a moment to catch his breath. "—you got no idea how fuckin' crazy you make me," he finished, staring deep into your eyes.

Your leg tightened around his waist and you leaned forward, grazing your teeth lightly over his throat when you said, "Crazy enough to fuck me in a pool on a Wednesday afternoon."

Joel growled, the sound vibrating against your lips. "You like this, don't you? You like gettin' me so hard 'n worked up, I can barely think."

You thought you managed to whisper out a yes, but you couldn't be sure because a second later, Joel was pounding into you again. Water splashed up, dotting both your faces and lips with little droplets. One strong arm pinned you roughly to his chest, and the other protected the back of your head from the tile, completely immobilizing you. Your open mouths hovered inches apart, leaving just enough room for your shared grunts and moans to escape, each devastating thrust bringing you both closer to the edge.

"Oh, f-fuck," you stammered, body jolting violently in his grip from the force of his hips slamming into you. His jaw tightened, brow furrowing as he fought back his own climax. You were close, he could feel it. He just needed to give you a little more.

"Don't stop," you begged, and Joel shook his head, stomach tensing with the need to let go. A strangled noise made its way past your lips and you feverishly clutched the sides of his head. "Kiss me," you pleaded.

His mouth crashed against yours, tongue sliding past your lips, and all the while he maintained that same, steady pace underwater. There was a moment where he thought he might not be able to hold back any longer, but then he felt your body go rigid and a broken version of his name tumbled into his mouth. A second later, the sweet feeling of relief flooded his veins as he came, pumping you full of his seed while you both rode out the rest of your highs together.

Joel broke the kiss with a sharp gasp, then buried his face in the crook of your neck so he could catch his breath. Your fingers combed lovingly through his hair and you closed your eyes, basking in the sun and the afterglow of your orgasm with Joel still buried deep between your legs. His arms remained wrapped around you, as well, keeping you so close that your chests bumped together with every shaky breath. After several quiet minutes, Joel whispered your name, his soft way of checking in.

You swallowed, throat hoarse and dry. "Say it," you mumbled drowsily. You felt his lips twitch against your neck.

"I love you."

A slow smile stretched across your face and you sighed.

"I love you, too."

The drive to Glenn and Mary's mansion brought back so many memories. Nerves, excitement, and anticipation filled you the first time, hoping you would do a good job at selling your fake engagement so Joel would appear relatable to Glenn and therefore make him look like the best choice to purchase the land for the hotel. Then afterwards, uneasiness and pangs of jealousy once you found out that Joel used to carry on an affair with another hotel mogul's wife, Tammy.

This time was different. Now, you were legitimately Joel's fiancée and madly in love. No more secrets, no more feelings of betrayal. You couldn't have been any happier.

"I'm looking forward to seeing them again," you told Joel. He sat next to you in the backseat of the town car, your left hand engulfed by his across the middle seat. His thumb distractedly played with the huge diamond on your ring finger and he smiled.

"Should be nice. Just them, Trevor and Zoe," he recapped.

Zoe. You were so excited to see your old friend, a port in the storm the last time you were on the island. She was young, beautiful, carefree and a former sugarbaby. While you hid that part of your history from everyone — with the exception of Joel's trusted assistant, Liam — Zoe had told you her secret in confidence early on in your trip. As much as you wanted to share with her your own background, you knew how detrimental it would be to Joel, so you kept your mouth shut. Still, Zoe turned out to be an incredible friend. She was there the night Brooks — Glenn and Mary's son —assaulted you in a restaurant bathroom. She took care of you until Joel arrived that night. She also had your back when Tammy and Lynne accused you of being a gold digger during a dinner party towards the end of your trip.

Needless to say, after the trip ended, you remained close friends. You were thrilled to find out she quit being a sugarbaby and found herself a boyfriend... none other than Glenn and Mary's other son, Trevor. Who actually didn't turn out to be that bad, compared to his brother.

"Much better group than last time," you said, squeezing Joel's hand.

He smirked and rolled his eyes, knowing full well you were referring to Tammy and her little sidekick, Lynne.

"Easy," he teased.

Glenn and Mary lived right on the beach in a stunning Mediterranean-style house which was surrounded by exotic plants and meticulously maintained gardens, a home that still took your breath away whenever you saw it.

When your car pulled up, you could see all the lights on inside, and when the chauffeur opened your door and you stepped out, you could hear the soft sounds of music echoing from the backyard.

"They must be on the patio," you said to Joel, looping your hand through his arm and allowing him to lead you to the front door.

"They do love their view," he murmured.

A man you didn't recognize but who appeared to be part of the catering service opened the door for you with the offer of champagne. You each took a flute before heading through the familiar, grandiose foyer. The kitchen and dining areas were silent except for the staff furiously working away. Your gaze drifted to look through the glass that lead out to their gorgeous pool area, spotting four familiar faces smiling and laughing around the outdoor bar. When Zoe turned her head and locked eyes with you through the windows, her face lit up. Yours must have done the same because you immediately dropped Joel's arm and squealed excitedly.

Hurrying outside, you ran to meet Zoe halfway, then threw your arms around each other's necks, swaying back and forth and murmuring compliments in the other's ear while trying to simultaneously not spill your drinks.

"Your hair! It's so long!" you gushed when you pulled away. Your fingers idly slid down her shiny locks with a smile so wide, your cheeks hurt. "And this dress! Oh my god—"

"You should talk! You're practically glowing!" Zoe beamed right back before snatching your right hand to hold it up to the dim garden lighting. "Or is it this massive fucking rock?"

She whispered the last part so none of the others heard. They had come forward to greet Joel while you and Zoe got reacquainted, fortunately buying you an extra minute to come up with some excuse as to why you had two engagement rings.

"Oh, this?" you laughed, stretching your fingers out so you could both admire it. "Joel thought he owed me another one since it's taken us so long to get married."

"Goddamn, Joel. You are one smart man," Glenn bellowed behind you. You swiveled around with a huge grin so you could give Glenn, Mary, and Trevor each a warm hug. When you were about to step away, Mary tsked and held out her hand, so you placed your right palm in hers while they got a good look at your new ring.

"Felt bad that storm set construction back a few weeks," Joel explained, quickly rolling with your story. He curled an arm around your waist when everyone was done admiring your ring, tucking you into his side. "Caused a headache with the wedding planner. Y'know how it is."

"I always told you — happy wife, happy life," Glenn chuckled before waving everyone over to the appetizers, which had just been set out near the bar. "C'mon, dig in. Then I wanna hear all about the soft open."

Joel opened his mouth to reply when a man's familiar sounding drawl rang out behind you.

"Oh, well, what do you know? We just came from there, I can tell you all about it."

Your body reacted before your brain had a chance to figure out what was happening. The hairs on your arms stood up and your heart felt like it was lodged in your throat.

You knew that voice.

"Scott! Didn't think you were comin' in til later!" Glenn called out cheerily. Zoe's hand found your forearm and she gave it a reassuring squeeze. Then, Joel murmured something in your ear but your blood was pumping so fast and loud, you couldn't hear him. Because if Scott was there, that meant...

"Tammy!" Mary sang, raising her arms above her head with a sweet smile. She didn't notice your reaction, neither did Glenn. They were too busy giving them both hugs and murmuring something to them about the weather.

Joel tried to get your attention again but you felt frozen in place. Zoe released your arm, whispered breathe in your ear, then followed Trevor over to greet them next.

"C'mon, let's just get through this," Joel urged, and you blinked before snapping your head to look at him.

"Did you—"

"No."

You exhaled in relief. It was a surprise, Joel didn't know they were coming. Still...

"Get over here, you son of a bitch," Scott laughed, tapping Joel on his shoulder. He let you go and plastered a polite smile across his face before giving him a hug. He hesitated for half a second, then gave Tammy a quick kiss on the cheek. You knew he had to do it. It would have looked weird if he didn't. But it still had your claws coming out, so you tucked your hand behind your back, squeezing your fingers into a tight fist to release some anger.

Tammy's eyes landed on you and she gave you a fake smile, murmured your name, and stiffly leaned forward to kiss you on the cheek. It took everything in your power to move, to press your cheek against hers, to say nice to see you and act like either of you meant it.

You broke apart quickly, each of you avoiding eye contact and retreating back to your partners. Joel wrapped an arm around your waist, his fingers pressed into your hip, wordlessly trying to soothe you, to tell you it was okay. With your cheeks hot, you caught Zoe's eye. She looked just as taken aback as you.

"Did you, uh, say you were at The Parador?" Joel asked. He sounded guarded, like he was bracing for something. He must have already connected the dots and for some reason, you were lagging, because Scott nodded and announced the obvious.

"We were lucky enough to get one of the rooms for the soft open." Scott tossed Joel a grin while lacing his fingers together with his wife's. "Don't worry. We won't be too harsh in our review. Right, honey?" he joked.

Scott looked down at Tammy who batted her lashes and nodded.

"That's right. We know there's bumps to iron out when a new location opens up. We understand the business."

Scott owned his own chain of hotels and was in contention to win the plot of land Joel ended up getting on the island, so they were no stranger to the hospitality industry. But as nice as Scott was, at the end of the day, Joel was a competitor and he won something Scott couldn't have. It had your gut twisting nervously by Joel's side.

"Well, if somethin' doesn't meet your standards, you let me know immediately," Joel responded. You had to give him credit, he was handling the turn of events much better than you were, but something told you he would be expressing his true thoughts on the matter in the car later.

The only saving grace all evening happened when Scott and Tammy chose to sit at the opposite end of the table from you and Joel. It afforded you a chance to get your bearings and breathe.

"I didn't know," Zoe whispered before you could even ask. "I heard they had a layover on their way to Australia, but I didn't think they'd be stopping here."

"It's fine," you mumbled, picking at the fish on your plate. "Maybe they're just saying long enough to see Glenn and Mary."

You were wrong.

By the time your plates were cleared and dessert was being served, the topic of Scott and Tammy's unexpected arrival finally came up.

"Australia? What's taking the two of you there?" Mary asked. Candlelight that decorated the table flickered across her face, making her dark hair shimmer. She was beautiful and always very sweet. Even after your altercation with Brooks, both she and Glenn stood by your side and made the difficult decision to send their son off to rehab on a neighboring island. You were grateful for their kindness and generosity towards you during your last stay, but you had to admit, you were envious of how absolutely clueless she and her husband were about the dynamics at their table. You couldn't be certain about Trevor, but considering Zoe knew all the drama with Tammy, you had to assume the only people at the table who were in the dark were Glenn, Mary and Scott.

"Thought we'd take some time off down uhnda," Scott laughed, "Figured we deserved a little break. Hotels have been doing great but it's cost me a lot of late nights. So, we planned a little trip, just the two of us. But when we realized The Parador was about to have its grand open? Well," he breathed, locking eyes with Joel. "Couldn't miss that, now could we?"

"The boys were beside themselves but I told them when they graduate college, we'll consider taking them somewhere of their choosing," Tammy cooed, swirling her crystal wine glass in her hand. "That is, if their grades reflect the hard work they claim they're putting in."

"You sure you ain't lookin' to expand in Australia?" Glenn asked coyly. Scott gave him a sly smirk and shrugged.

"Who's to say."

Tammy scoffed and playfully swat at his shoulder. "No business, you promised!"

While the men laughed, you and Zoe exchanged glances and focused on your plates. Scott, to your knowledge, never knew Tammy had an affair with Joel all those years ago. So to watch them act so sickeningly sweet and in love irked you both. Especially when Joel confessed to you that Tammy had developed strong feelings for him during their tryst.

"When do your parents get in?" Zoe asked softly, but Mary overheard anyway and perked up.

"Oh! Your parents? That's lovely! They must be coming to help you plan the wedding!"

You nodded, feeling your cheeks warm when the entire table dragged their focus onto you.

"Yes, they arrive late tonight, actually," you responded. "They'll help a bit, but they aren't the type to take vacations, well... ever, really. So it was Joel's idea to get them out here and relax for once."

Joel smiled and his hand found yours underneath the table. He gave you a gentle squeeze, soothing your frayed nerves.

"Well, that's thoughtful. We all oughta go out to dinner before they leave," Glenn suggested. You swallowed tightly and nodded before Zoe swooped in.

"Mary! I forgot to tell you... we went to that new restaurant the other day."

"Ocean Terrace? How was it?"

And just like that, the attention shifted to Zoe and Trevor as they told the table about a horrendous dining experience.

"Dinner's almost over," Joel assured you quietly. You met his gaze, his dark eyes glittering in the dim lighting making your chest tighten with affection. "We'll make up some excuse not to get dinner with 'em again, don't worry."

You let out a shaky breath and nodded. You could do this. Besides, what could Tammy possibly do that hasn't already been done? She was a mood killer at that point and nothing more.

Your shoulders relaxed after your plates were cleared and people began to stand. Scott mentioned something about jet lag and Joel made an exaggerated yawn before making a comment about having an early meeting.

Zoe pulled you in for a hug and murmured in your ear about getting lunch. You told her you wanted to spend some time with your parents the next day, but promised to text her and set something up after. Then you gave Trevor a quick hug, which resulted in an avalanche of farewells and polite pecks on cheeks.

Joel was leading you through the house, back the way you came. Every step made you breathe a little easier until Glenn suddenly jogged up behind you.

"Joel? You got a quick minute?"

Joel's eyes flickered between yours and Glenn's, confusion etching his face before he nodded and let go of your hand.

"I'll meet you in the car."

You didn't think anything of it. Figured it was business related; that maybe Glenn wanted to book a few villas for friends or maybe host an event in one of the ballrooms. You took out your phone after you settled into your seat and opened a text from your mother, letting you know they safely landed and that they were checking into their hotel. You tapped out a quick response, telling her you would call them the next day and advised them to get some rest when Joel slipped into the backseat. His lips were pressed into a thin line and his brows pulled tight. You quickly dropped your phone back into your purse when you sensed the tension rolling off his shoulders.

"What's wrong?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, his hand found the button for the partition. You could hear the little motor whirring as it slowly closed, giving you privacy from the driver as he drove down the empty streets, back to The Parador.

Even in the dim ambient lighting from the ceiling, you could read Joel's face. He was pissed.

"Joel?" you tried again. His jaw tensed and your eyes dropped to his knee, which was bouncing anxiously as he mulled over whatever Glenn had just said. Then finally, he forced his gaze onto you and your stomach dropped when he said, "Brooks is outta rehab. Been back on the island for a week, and—" he bit the inside of his cheek before huffing in disbelief and shaking his head. "—and he wants to see you. Says he's got somethin' important he wants to say. Glenn thinks he plans to apologize. Make amends or some shit. Part of some program..." he trailed off and pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh while you remained frozen, unable to tear your eyes away from the cut of Joel's jaw.

"What?" you whispered. Joel heard the tremor in your voice. He quickly turned his focus back onto you, taking your hand in both of his and drawing soothing circles on your knuckles with the pad of his thumb.

"It's fine. He ain't comin' anywhere near you, y'hear me?"

You nodded because it was all you could manage to do. Your throat was too tight to speak. This was all too much—

"I don't care what they say. He's their kid, 'course they're gonna believe him when he says he ain't using," Joel muttered. You cleared your throat and took a breath.

"Well... maybe he is—"

"Ain't up for discussion," Joel said coldly, cutting you off. Goosebumps flashed across your skin at his tone. "If it's that important, he can call or write a letter or some shit. He ain't ever gonna lay a hand on you again."

You nodded and clamped your mouth shut. It wasn't often Joel put his foot down, and considering what happened last time, he had every right to be suspicious and on edge. Besides — you weren't interested in seeing him. Only just morbidly curious.

The rest of the drive was quiet. He kept your hand on his leg, his warm palm pressing comfortingly against yours while you both stared out your respective windows, lost in thought.

Foolishly, you thought it was over; that the universe had thrown you enough curveballs for one night.

When Joel swung the door open to your villa, the room was dark. He stepped inside and began to flick on all the lights, leaving you to close and lock the door behind you. Somewhere in the master bedroom, you heard the curtains closing, but your gaze had fallen to a crisp white envelope under your shoe. You frowned, eyes darting from the envelope to the door, then leaned down to pick it up.

You flipped it over in your hands: it was sealed and not addressed to anybody.

"I'm gonna shower," Joel called from the bathroom.

"Okay," you answered distractedly. You heard the water turn on as you wandered into the kitchen, studying the envelope while trying to remember if Joel had mentioned he was expecting anything.

Curiosity eventually got the best of you and you ripped it open. Inside was just one white piece of common printer paper with four simple words staining the page, yet those four words made your blood run cold and dread settle over you like a blanket of snow:

I know your secret.

Please follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️

[demonic0angel]

Can you please do one in the Big Sis Babs AU, where Phantom has to meet with the Bats for some reason, and Babs has to pretend she doesn’t know already know everything about him/desperately wants to introduce herself properly.

Barbara was practically vibrating.

Her little brother, a hero, was right there! He stood in the camera screen, a calm expression on his face as he and Bruce had a conversation over a case. He stood tall and grand, his white smoky hair floating in the breeze as his eyes glowed green.

Barbara watched him almost zealously, intent on engraving every detail of her precious little brother into her eyes, almost wanting to burst and explode from pride.

She almost wanted to shout from the rooftops, 'Look! Look at my little brother!'

She was so distracted that she didn't even notice that Bruce was calling her name.

"Oracle? Oracle, are you there?"

Barbara blinked and quickly turned on the camera, rearranging herself. "Apologies, I had to finish something really quick. What is it?"

"Can you look into this lead? We think that this is connected to the unsolved case from two weeks ago."

"We?" Barbara asked.

Bruce nodded. "Phantom and I have a cause to believe that the two cases are connected."

Of course, he did! Her baby siblings were geniuses!

Barbara nodded calmly, her every pore brimming with happiness.

"Of course, I'll get to it right away." She had to help her little brother!

"You're Oracle?" Phantom asked, tilting his head with a small smile. "I heard a lot about you. You're considered one of the top masters of all digital information."

Barbara was inwardly squealing, but outwardly, she only hummed. "That's an overstatement, I'm not that special."

Phantom grinned. "I think it's pretty cool."

He! Thought! She! Was! Cool!!

Barbara smiled, feeling a little faint. "Thanks."

"Of course! Thank you for the help! I hope we can work together again," Phantom said with another adorable tilt of his head.

Barbara nodded again, almost wanting to toss her computer screen to the floor and scream in delight. Her siblings were truly the cutest, most adorable baby siblings in the world!!

She was so going to rub this in Dick's face later!

[goldenroutledge]

don’t you remember

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

word count: 2.3k

prompts: ❛ you don’t have to keep me company, i’m fine by myself. ❜ & ❛ can you look at me? please? ❜

summary: running into charles at your favorite spot might be fate’s way (or leo’s way) of bringing you back together.

warning(s): some angst but a happy ending!

masterlist || be my valentine blurb event 💌

You don’t miss Charles Leclerc.

You don’t miss the constant travel, the way he softly snores on planes, how his head used to rest against your shoulder, subconsciously finding comfort in your presence even in his sleep.

You don’t miss his curt, one word responses when words got sharp and petty arguments grew between you. You don’t miss his forgetfulness, his habit of brushing the important things under the rug, knowing that you’ll still be there to deal with them later. Once upon a time, his carelessness endeared you, like when he’d kiss you no matter who was watching. That trait of his ultimately turned against you.

You don’t miss the sound of him practicing piano, at any hour day or night. You don’t miss the way he poured his heart out to the piano and saved nothing for you.

Nor do you miss the pitter patter of Leo’s paws through the halls when he wakes you up in the middle of the night, curling up at the foot of your bed. Okay, maybe you do miss that a little bit.

You don’t miss how after standing by Charles for years, cheering him on from the start, his one true love means more to him than you ever could; having a real shot at claiming the World Driver’s Championship. It’s the only prize he could keep his eyes on, one that you could never compare yourself to, knowing that achievement would be larger than life for him. Everything, and everyone else, coming in second place.

That’s exactly why you couldn’t spare any more time denying the obvious. Months were spent convincing yourself that it was the right decision, reassured by the common saying that people either grow apart or they grow together. The breakup might have been sudden, but you’d grown so far apart that he was out of your reach, and you had grown out of his. Each of your paths had no intersection in sight.

It’s what led you to bail on him at the last minute, deciding to randomly stay home instead of accompanying your boyfriend to a race weekend. Charles had mastered the art of avoiding tough conversations; you’d only done the same. It didn’t break your heart any less knowing that Charles and Leo would arrive home to an empty apartment come Monday.

Sure the furniture, the decorations, the art work, his beloved grand piano… the material things remained. However your clothes, your belongings, your pictures, your presence, it was all gone. Any trace of the years you’d spent together, gone as if they never existed in the first place. If Charles wanted space, this was the only way you knew how to give it to him. Maybe, just maybe, he’d come to regret it.

Seeing his family around has been hard. His beloved mom and brothers now hesitate to rush to your side and talk to you like they used to. They might smile out of habit, recognizing your familiar face before they remember what’s happened between you and Charles. Like the flick of a light switch, you were strangers, despite once upon a time being embraced as a member of their close-knit family.

Social media doesn’t serve much of a purpose for you these days. Your friends understand that being tagged in countless fan edits and gossip posts about your breakup has got to burn. If the breakup itself wasn’t wounding enough, you’re forced to relive it with each notification. Embracing the new routine has been good for you, offering stability that life with Charles simply couldn’t-

You drop your pen, pausing from writing in your journal as the incessant barking of a dog interrupts your train of thought. The sound grows louder with each one.

You take one glance of your surroundings, and that’s when you see him. Leo Leclerc, barreling towards you as quickly as his little legs can take him. He’s now the reason your face lights up in the midst of a rather torturous journaling session.

“Leo! What are you doing over here?” You can’t help but pet him. His tongue hangs out of his mouth and his abandoned leash drags against the grass beneath him.

You then realize that if Leo got away, Charles must not be too far. You hope it’s his assistant taking the dog for a walk today. Then again, your quiet hideout spot is along one of Charles’ favorite trails to run. The hair on the back of your neck stands up when you hear the sound of his voice, calling Leo’s name in hopes that he’ll reappear.

Leo, none the wiser, gives kisses to your exposed skin and barks out in excitement. You cringe, knowing that Charles definitely isn’t too far away after hearing the familiar sound.

He rounds the corner, and upon spotting his dog, Charles is more relieved than anything else. “Leo! There you-,” …Until he sees who Leo ran off to find in the first place. “Y/n? Is that you?”

You wave politely, still trying to calm Leo down from his burst of enthusiasm. “Hi, Charles.”

“I, uhh, didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Makes two of us. Looks like Leo had other ideas.”

Charles smiles, approaching slowly as if he’s intruding on the moment. “You scare me when you run off like that.” He mumbles to Leo, catching his own breath as he was clearly in the midst of a workout. “I’m sorry, he still hasn’t learned much about obedience.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Your words are melancholy, and you try to keep the smile on your face despite knowing this will probably be the last time you see either of them. Unless this happens again, of course. Talk about irony. It’s almost as if Charles was summoned here as you were writing about him. You close the journal with haste, hoping Charles didn’t see his name clearly written at the top. “I guess Leo’s not as over me as you are.”

You regret saying the words immediately after they come out. Heat rises to your cheeks, luckily the sun is partially to blame. Charles’ expression hardens, unsure of what to say or do. “You have no idea what this has been like for me, finding that note on your nightstand, telling me you were leaving.”

“Forget it, Charles. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, whatever you may think, it could not be farther from the truth.” Instead of bidding you adieu, leaving this awkward moment for your memory to replay before you fall asleep tonight, he sits down beside you. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what happened between us, trying to understand how it happened in the first place. Can you just tell me why you did it? Or tell me what I did to cause it?”

You shrug. “People grow apart, Charles. Nothing lasts forever.”

He laughs bitterly. “Glad to see you’ve turned so cynical. Me too.”

“Not cynical, just realistic. Our breakup has helped me realize a lot of things, actually.”

“Like what?”

“Like it’s probably time to move to a bigger place, for one. Where I don’t run into my ex at my favorite sitting spot.” Charles freezes like a deer in headlights, until you nudge his arm with your elbow. “Relax, I’m just kidding. Kind of.”

“And you still have jokes. Good to know.”

Leo has calmed down and snuggled up between you and Charles. By the looks of it, he’s dozing off into an afternoon nap. Your heart warms at the sight of him, and though he’s just a dog, you can imagine that he’s feeling content between the two people that adopted him.

“You can come see him anytime, you know.”

“And that’s not just a ploy to get me back into your apartment?”

“You mean our apartment? It used to be yours too.”

“Exactly, used to be.”

“But it doesn’t have to be like that anymore. We can work it out, we can talk about everything that brought us here. Will you give us that chance?”

Your heart pangs with sadness at the reminder that this is all an illusion. Charles isn’t yours anymore, neither is Leo. He can feel your mood change at the mention of your old life together, and the distance that’s wedged itself between you now. “On second thought, you don’t have to keep me company, I’m fine by myself. You should get back to your workout, Charles.”

Absent-mindedly, you doodle on a blank page, hoping it will convince him you’re too busy for this. There’s no way he can let this conversation fall between his fingers. “Well, I need to rehydrate. So I’m staying.”

“Still stubborn, I see.”

“We spent years together, Y/n. You can’t tolerate me for more than five minutes?”

“You know what Charles? I wanted to be nice, to try to extend some kind of olive branch of friendship but I don’t think I can. We ended things for a reason and we can’t be friends.”

“Ended things? You mean, when you fled our apartment in the middle of the night?”

“Spare me. Things were long over between us. You just never had the balls to end it officially. Or at least wish me a good rest of my life.”

“I’m sorry, Y/n, but you don’t know what you’re talking about. Leo still sits by the door waiting for you. I must be some kind of idiot because I listen for the door, too. Hoping that one day maybe you’ll walk through it and come back home to us.”

“There is no home for me to come back to, Charles.” You mumble, but he’s insistent on finishing everything he’s been wanting to say to you since you left.

“And as for reaching out, you don’t know how badly I have wanted to. How close I have been to pressing send on some things I probably shouldn’t say, but do you know what stops me?”

“What stops you?”

“The thought of you carrying on, of being happy, maybe being happy with someone else who can give you everything you want. I never wanted to impose on your life because you made it clear that you don’t want me there anymore.”

“Are you insane? That’s not what happened at all! You ‘left’ me so you wouldn’t feel guilty about choosing your career anymore. I left because I didn’t want there to be a choice at all. You say that I left you, but it was mutual. You left me first.”

“Well, I was wrong. I could feel us growing apart and I didn’t do anything to stop it.” Charles shakes his head. “But Y/n, if I knew this is where we would end up, I would change everything. I should’ve never let you let me go. I should’ve fought.” You stay still, ignoring a tear that slips down your cheek and splatters onto the hardcover of your journal. “Y/n, can you look at me? Please?”

Leo’s woken up from the sound of Charles’ voice, alarmed at the distress in his dad’s voice, and the sadness radiating from his mom that he hasn’t seen in far too long. You lean down to kiss the daschund’s head before standing up.

“I should go.”

The dog is quick to follow you, and his cries are unmistakable, as if begging you to stay. Poor Leo never did anything to you. It’s a shame that he suffers from the decisions you and Charles made.

“If you won’t stay for me, will you stay for him?” Charles calls out, finally out of options now that he’s said what’s been weighing on his chest. He walks towards you and takes your free hand in his to stop you. His eyes share a similar look to your own, betting it all on one last plea.

“I can’t change the past. I can’t apologize enough for my mistakes. But if you can look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel for me anymore, I will let you go. I will wish you a good rest of your life and never bother you again if that’s what you want.”

“And why would you do that?”

“Because I love you, mon chéri. I always have and I always will. And if you decide to walk away, just promise me you won’t forget that.”

You nod, still teary-eyed. “Fine. I won’t.”

“So what’s it gonna be? Do we have to say goodbye?”

“It’s going to take time, Charles.” You look down at the ground, focusing on Leo walking around you.

Charles’ eyes have watered, and you resist the urge to engulf him into a hug. “However long it takes, I’ll be here. I can’t lose you.”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“You are. You’ve always been there for me, even when I don’t deserve it.” Charles takes a deep breath, composing himself. “But that’s going to change. I’m going to be someone who deserves you.”

You smile softly. “You’re not so bad, Charles. For what it’s worth, I shouldn’t have left the way I did. I never wanted to lose you either.”

Charles beams at you with hope in his eyes. He wants to hold you, to remind himself that you’re here in front of him after all this time, but he stops himself.

Instead, you take him into your arms, reveling in his familiar embrace. He wraps his arms around you, and his chest feels lighter. “Thank you.” He murmurs into your ear, wishing the moment to last forever.

You both chuckle as below you, Leo barks happily and wags his tail ferociously. “Me? You should be thanking him. If he hadn’t run off and found me here, we would’ve never ran into each other. We got Parent-Trapped by our dog.”

Charles leans down to pick Leo up, sighing in contentment as he looks between you two with admiration. “I guess we did, didn’t we?”

“But something tells me we were always meant to find our way back to each other. Isn’t that right, Leo?”

Leo barks at the sound of his name, confirming what you’ve both known all along; some things are just meant to be.

💌: thanks for reading! comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated! feel free to request more from my be my valentine blurb event

taglist: @marjorieswrld (add yourself here!)

[hyuniemyunie]

Valentine's Day ⋆˚☆˖°

sonic characters! (some of them)

sfw

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(ФωФ): all romantic, except tails. silver the hedgehog x gn!reader, established relationship, fluff, long distance angst. shadow the hedgehog x gn!reader, confession, first kiss, awkward shadow. knuckles the echidna x gn!reader, mutual pining, protective knuckles. rouge the bat x gn!reader, flirty, playful, yet romantic. sonic the hedgehog x gn!reader, ride or die ahh. tails x gn!reader, platonic, found family.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

Love Across Time and Space

Silver always knew time was a fragile thing. He had spent his whole life watching it shatter, crumble, and reassemble itself in ways that never felt quite right. But right now, he wasn’t thinking about time in the grand, world-ending way he usually did. He was thinking about how much time he had spent away from you.

Valentine’s Day was meaningless in a ruined future, but with you, it meant something. It meant love, warmth, and all the little moments he had once believed were lost to history. So when he finally managed to pull together enough energy to warp to your timeline, he landed on your doorstep, breathless and unsteady, hands clutching a small, carefully wrapped package.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he panted, silver quills disheveled, eyes bright with excitement.

You barely had time to react before he was hugging you, holding on like you might disappear if he let go. “I didn’t think you’d make it,” you murmured into his shoulder, feeling the tension in his muscles ease at your touch.

“I’d tear through time itself to see you,” he whispered, pressing the gift into your hands. Inside was a small, glowing crystal—something he had pulled from the ruins of his future, polished and shaped until it shimmered like a star. “So even when I’m not here, you have a little piece of me.”

Tears pricked your eyes. You held it close, knowing he had fought against fate itself just to be here, to bring you this. You kissed him, slow and lingering, pouring all the love he had missed into one perfect moment.

No matter what time tried to take from him, he would always, always find his way back to you.

Love in the Shadows

Shadow didn’t believe in Valentine’s Day.

It was frivolous. Commercialized. A human construct designed to make people feel lonely, or worse—forced into performative displays of affection.

And yet.

Here he was, standing at your door, holding a single, freshly picked rose. He wasn’t even sure why he had grabbed it. Maybe because Rouge told him showing up empty-handed would be “pathetic,” or maybe because he had seen the way you admired flowers, even the most insignificant ones.

You opened the door, surprised to see him. “Shadow?”

He shifted uncomfortably, gripping the stem of the rose a little too hard. “I… was in the area.” A lie. He had walked here. On purpose. “Here.” He thrust the rose toward you like it was a weapon. “For you.”

You took it carefully, a small smile playing on your lips. “You’re really bad at this, huh?”

Shadow stiffened. “At what?”

“Romance.”

His ears twitched. “...Is that what this is?”

You stepped closer, looking up at him. “Why else would you be here?”

Shadow opened his mouth, then closed it, red eyes darting away. The silence stretched, but you didn’t rush him. Finally, he exhaled sharply. “I think about you too much,” he admitted, voice quiet. “It’s… distracting. But when I don’t see you, it’s worse.”

Your heart pounded. “Shadow, are you saying—”

“I don’t know what I’m saying,” he interrupted. “But if I don’t do this now, I’ll never do it.”

Before you could react, he kissed you—brief, uncertain, like he was afraid he had made a mistake. But when he pulled back, he saw your stunned expression, the way your fingers touched your lips, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel like running away.

Fists, Fireworks, and Feelings

Knuckles had never been good with words.

He could fight off entire armies, guard the Master Emerald with unwavering dedication, and endure the crushing weight of loneliness, but the idea of telling you how he felt? Impossible.

So when he saw someone bothering you at the marketplace—some overly pushy vendor who wouldn’t take no for an answer—he didn’t think. He acted.

“Back off,” he growled, stepping between you and the merchant, towering over them with a glare that could melt steel.

The vendor stammered out an apology and scurried away. You blinked up at Knuckles, wide-eyed. “Uh. Thanks?”

Knuckles crossed his arms, trying to ignore how fast his heart was beating. “You shouldn’t let people push you around,” he muttered.

You raised an eyebrow. “I was handling it.”

He hesitated. “...I know.” His ears burned. “I just don’t like seeing people mess with you.”

A slow smile spread across your lips. “Knuckles, are you being protective?”

“No,” he blurted, then immediately sighed. “Maybe.”

You tilted your head, amused. “Because you like me?”

His entire body tensed. He turned away, rubbing the back of his head, mumbling something you couldn’t quite hear.

You stepped closer. “What was that?”

“I said yes,” he grumbled. “Happy?”

Your laughter made his stomach flip. “Yeah, actually.”

And then you kissed his cheek—just a quick, playful peck—and Knuckles, the mighty guardian of Angel Island, went completely red, utterly speechless.

A Thief's Heart

Rouge loved shiny things.

She loved jewels, rare artifacts, and anything that glittered under the moonlight. But above all, she loved the things she couldn’t have.

Which was why she was currently lounging on your windowsill, one leg crossed over the other, a knowing smirk on her lips. “Miss me, sweetheart?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning against the wall. “You say that like you ever give me time to miss you.”

She chuckled, gracefully dropping down from the windowsill. “I can’t help it. You’re my favorite heist.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Heist?”

She tapped a manicured finger against your chest. “You stole my heart first.”

Your face heated up. “That was… disgustingly smooth.”

“I know.” She leaned in, voice softer now. “But I mean it.”

For all her bravado, there was something genuine in the way she looked at you—something unguarded, just for you. You swallowed, trying to keep up with her pace. “So… is this where you sweep me off my feet and take me away?”

Rouge hummed, pretending to think. “Tempting. But I’d rather stay right here.”

She kissed you then, slow and deliberate, her hands tracing over your shoulders like she was mapping every inch of you. When she pulled away, she grinned. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sugar.”

And just like that, she was gone, slipping back into the shadows—but not before leaving a single, heart-shaped ruby in your palm.

She may have been a thief, but tonight, she was the one who had given something away.

Love at the Speed of Sound

Dating Sonic was like trying to hold onto a summer breeze—he was fast, untouchable, and always on the move. But somehow, against all odds, he always found his way back to you.

Which was why, on Valentine’s Day, you weren’t expecting anything too special. Sonic wasn’t exactly the chocolates-and-roses type. You figured maybe a quick visit, a few jokes, and then he’d be off, chasing another adventure.

What you didn’t expect was him showing up at your door, grinning ear to ear, holding a blindfold.

“Uh,” you said, eyeing it. “Do I even want to know?”

“Oh, c’mon, where’s your sense of adventure?” Sonic wiggled the blindfold in front of you. “Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

You sighed but let him tie it over your eyes. The next thing you knew, he had scooped you into his arms, wind rushing past as he took off running.

Your stomach flipped as he skidded to a stop. “Okay, ready?”

He tugged the blindfold off, and your breath caught. You were standing at the peak of a cliff, overlooking an endless ocean. The sunset turned the sky into a painting of pink and gold, waves crashing below. It was breathtaking.

Sonic leaned against the railing, smirking. “Not bad, huh?”

You turned to him. “You ran me all the way out here just for a view?”

“Nah.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I mean, yeah, it’s nice and all, but… I just wanted to spend today with you. No running off, no bad guys. Just us.”

Your heart melted. For all his speed, for all his need to be anywhere but standing still, he had chosen to stop—just for you.

He stretched out a hand. “So… what do you say? Wanna watch the sunset with me?”

You took his hand, fingers lacing together. “I’d race you to it, but we both know I’d lose.”

Sonic laughed. “Yeah, but I’d let you win just this once.”

And for once, he didn’t run away.

Genius at Work

Tails had been locked in his workshop all day. You weren’t surprised—once he got lost in a project, hours could pass without him realizing it. But it was Valentine’s Day, and you weren’t about to let him spend it cooped up with nothing but blueprints and half-finished gadgets.

You knocked on the door. “Tails? You in there?”

A crash, a muffled “Ow,” and then, “Uh—yeah! Hold on!”

A moment later, he opened the door, goggles perched on his forehead, fur smudged with oil. “Oh! Hey, What’s up?”

You held up a small box. “Figured you’d forget to eat, so I brought you something.”

His ears perked up, tails wagging slightly. “Oh! Thanks!” He took the box, opening it to reveal a homemade meal, carefully packed. His eyes softened. “You really didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to.” You leaned against the doorway. “You do a lot for everyone, Tails. Thought someone should return the favor.”

He scratched the back of his head, embarrassed but clearly touched. “I guess I do get carried away sometimes…”

You grinned. “That’s what I’m here for—to remind you to actually be human. Or, well… fox.”

Tails laughed. “Well, in that case—wanna see what I’ve been working on?”

You knew what that meant: hours of enthusiastic explanations, endless tinkering, and getting caught up in his excitement. And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sweeter Than Candy

Amy had never been subtle about her feelings. She loved love. She believed in grand gestures, romantic confessions, and fairytale endings.

So when she showed up at your door on Valentine’s Day, holding a heart-shaped box of chocolates, you knew exactly what was coming.

She took a deep breath, gripping the box like it was a lifeline. “Okay! I rehearsed this, but now that I’m actually here, I’m kinda panicking—”

You reached out, gently squeezing her hand. “Amy. Breathe.”

She exhaled. “Right. Okay. Here goes.” She thrust the chocolates toward you. “I like you.”

You blinked. “I—”

“Like, a lot,” she continued, words tumbling out in a rush. “Like, more-than-friends like. Like, every time I see you, my heart does this stupid little happy dance, and I think you’re amazing, and I—”

“Amy.” You smiled, taking the chocolates from her hands. “I like you too.”

She froze. “You—wait, really?”

You laughed. “Yeah, really.”

Amy made a sound somewhere between a squeal and a gasp. “Oh my gosh! Okay, um—wait, I had a whole speech planned, and now I—wait, no, that doesn’t matter, because—you like me back!”

She threw her arms around you, squeezing tight, her hammer clattering to the ground as she forgot everything else. You hugged her just as tightly, warmth blooming in your chest.

Amy pulled back, eyes sparkling. “So does this mean I can call you my Valentine?”

You tapped your chin, pretending to think. “Hmm… I dunno. What’s in it for me?”

She gasped dramatically. “Rude!”

You laughed, and before she could protest, you leaned in, kissing her cheek. “Of course, I’m your Valentine.”

Amy beamed. “Best. Valentine’s Day. EVER.”

[geneviveleocardius]

silco and his way of loving you

my man

silco is a man of plans and ambition, but when it comes to you, everything else takes a backseat. you are his exception, the one person he trusts entirely.

if anyone threatens you, silco’s rage is terrifying. he’s a man who built a criminal empire; he knows how to destroy enemies utterly and ruthlessly. for you, he wouldn’t hesitate to dismantle all of it.

silco ensures your safety with meticulous planning. from hidden bodyguards to secure safehouses, you might not even realize how many layers of protection he’s arranged for you.

silco isn’t the type to shower you with grand romantic gestures. instead, his love is shown in the little things: making sure you have everything you need, fixing things before you even know there’s a problem, and quietly watching over you when you’re vulnerable.

silco is not overly physical, but when you’re alone, he’ll let his guard down. a hand on your lower back, fingers brushing against yours, or his thumb tracing your jaw when he cups your face—these moments mean everything coming from him.

at night, when the stress of the day fades, he’ll let his mask slip. silco holds you close, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin as he whispers plans and dreams only meant for you to hear.

his sharp tongue spares no one, not even you, but there’s an unmistakable fondness in his teasing. he loves when you fire back, and the smirk that plays on his lips tells you he’s impressed by your wit.

silco has a knack for giving you nicknames that sound mocking but secretly melt his heart. whether it’s “darling,” “my torment,” or “trouble,” there’s always a hint of affection in his tone.

silco is a master of manipulation, but with you, there’s no need for pretense. you see the parts of him no one else does: the man who doubts, aches, and dreams. in you, he’s found someone he can truly rely on.

when the world feels like it’s pulling him into the abyss, you’re the one who keeps him grounded. he might be zaun’s eye, but you’re his anchor.

you’re the only person who sees the rare moments of guilt or pain flicker across his face. when his walls come down, he doesn’t speak much, but the way he clings to you says everything.

silco has no issue getting his hands dirty, but when it comes to you, he’ll even set aside his pride if it means making you happy. whether it’s something as small as an apology or something as monumental as changing his plans, he’ll do it for you.

silco is fiercely possessive, but he trusts you enough not to smother you. still, the way his sharp gaze lingers on anyone who gets too close is enough to send most people running.

silco may not be one for flowery words, but when he tells you, “you’re mine,” it’s a vow that carries more weight than any traditional declaration of love.

being loved by silco means being the most precious thing in a dangerous world. his love is intense, consuming, and unyielding—but with it comes a promise that you’ll never face anything alone.

silco’s love is quiet but intense, like a slow-burning fire. he isn’t the type to shout his feelings or wear his heart on his sleeve, but everything he does is for you. he shows his love through actions—ensuring your comfort, solving your problems before you even know they exist, and always putting you first.

he respects your independence but always watches out for you from the shadows. his way of saying “i love you” is often subtle: a rare, vulnerable gaze held a moment too long, or a quiet “stay safe” that carries more weight than any grand declaration.

silco’s kisses are measured and intense, like he’s savoring every second. he doesn’t rush, letting the moment linger as if nothing else exists.

in private moments of tenderness, he’ll press a soft kiss to your forehead, his way of silently promising to protect you.

he loves to tease you with playful, possessive nips during a kiss, a reminder of the passion simmering beneath his calm exterior.

he has a habit of kissing the sensitive spot just below your ear when he wants to make you melt, his voice low as he murmurs something teasing or affectionate.

silco thrives on making your life easier. whether it’s handling a problem you didn’t want to deal with or silently taking care of something before you even notice it, he shows his love through his competence and reliability.

though his life is busy and chaotic, he always carves out time for you. these moments are sacred to him, whether it’s sitting in comfortable silence or talking late into the night.

while he isn’t overly expressive, silco’s words, when he chooses to speak, carry immense weight. he knows exactly how to reassure you, lift you up, or show his admiration with sharp, carefully chosen phrases.

he loves the way your hands feel in his—smaller, softer, yet steady. he’ll hold your hand under the table during tense meetings or brush his fingers over yours in quiet moments, finding comfort in the connection.

silco is intense but never reckless. he approaches intimacy with the same deliberate care he applies to everything else, making sure you feel adored and completely satisfied.

he knows every inch of your body and every reaction you have. nothing escapes his notice, and he takes his time learning exactly what makes you feel good.

silco likes to take control, but he’s not harsh—he’s commanding, confident, and endlessly patient. he makes you feel safe while igniting a fire you didn’t know existed.

intimacy is one of the few times he allows himself to be completely unguarded with you. his whispered confessions and soft touches reveal a man who trusts you in ways he trusts no one else.

silco loves to keep you on your toes with sly comments and sarcastic humor. “oh, you think you can outsmart me? charming, but unlikely,” he’ll say with a smirk when you challenge him.

even after all this time, the way he looks at you can make your heart race. his sharp, calculating gaze softens into something warmer, more intimate, when his eyes meet yours across a crowded room.

a hand on the small of your back, a light brush of his fingers against yours, or a firm grip on your waist remind you that you’re his.

he’ll catch you off guard with unexpected praise. “you’re too brilliant for your own good, you know that?” he says, his tone half-teasing but completely sincere.

silco thrives on stolen moments of intimacy. even in the middle of a busy day, he’ll pull you aside, his voice low and suggestive as he murmurs, “do you have any idea how distracting you are?”

being loved by silco is like being claimed by a storm—intense, consuming, and completely unshakable. he’s not just your lover; he’s your partner, protector, and equal, and he makes sure you never doubt how deeply he adores you.

[lumitoiile]

☆ :  neuvillette headcanons

summary : falling in love with the hydro dragon ... happy birthday mister iudex ♡ gn! reader (no pronouns.) ╱ word count : 1.1k.

oh dear lord

neuvillette is a very reserved man, and he's long since mastered the art of keeping his feelings to himself. not that this is by choice—even after living among humans for five hundred years, he still struggles deeply with expressing himself.

which is why he finds falling in love with you to be both a wonderful blessing and a confusing curse all at once.

he's very unaccustomed to the feelings that stir inside his chest whenever he's around you. he doesn't even fully recognize what they are. but he does notice the way his gaze on you lingers longer than it should, the way his mind strays to you in his moments of quiet.

it unsettles him, this unfamiliar tug on his heart. soft yet insistent, like the rhythm of rain against a window.

he tries to rationalize it at first. he tells himself it's simply admiration, appreciation for your kindness, your wit... or perhaps the way you treat everyone with a warmth he's yet to master.

neuvillette is a logical man, after all. feelings like this aren't meant to exist in his framework of thinking.

yet despite his best efforts, the thought of you refuses to fade. he starts noticing other things, too: the way his chest tightens when you're near, how he can't quite meet your eyes without feeling an odd wave of vulnerability. in these challenging moments, he finds himself clutching his cane tightly; what's going on?

only after weeks of struggle does he finally understand these complex emotions of his. the realization, when it comes, is quiet yet profound. there's no grand epiphany or cinematic moment of clarity. it hits him like the gentlest rain, seeping into him so gradually it feels as though it's always been there.

he's in love.

and it's terrifying.

not because he doesn't want to, but because he doesn't know how. neuvillette has lived lifetimes without such a need for attachment. he's seen the fragility of human bonds, their fleeting nature, and he worries his feelings will only end in heartbreak.

but even with his fears, he can't find it in himself to step away. you've become part of him now, woven into his thoughts like the fabric of a tapestry.

neuvillette's silent admiration is subtle yet persistent—the prolonged stares, the way he finds excuses to be near you, the gentleness in his voice whenever he speaks your name.

this doesn't go unnoticed, of course, but it's still hard to tell exactly where you stand with him.

you spend countless nights second-guessing and wondering if you're imagining things. is he simply being polite? or do his gestures mean something deeper? the uncertainty becomes unbearable, like a storm you can't escape.

though there's no denying that it definitely feels like something, and it's not long before you decide the ambiguity is too much.

the confession is nerve-wracking and unsure, but your distress all but melts away when you see the look on his face. his breath hitches, his eyes are wide, and he stares at you like you're the most important person in the world.

you feel the same. and he's never felt more thrilled in his entire life.

neuvillette is horrendously awkward during the development of your relationship. he's very careful, and thoughtful to a fault, but very nervous and unsure how to navigate.

he spends an unreasonable amount of time constantly worrying about doing things right. he's always asking if he's being too distant or too clingy, if he's giving you too much affection or not enough. he's scared he'll overwhelm you or say the wrong thing.

but after some gentle reassurance on your part, he starts to warm up little by little. it starts slow; walking you home, leaving you little hand-written notes, his hand brushing against yours when you walk together.

but as he grows more comfortable, his gestures become more natural, and its not long before he's all over you. always holding your hand, pressing his lips to yours softly, holding you from behind when no one is around.

his love language is acts of service. while his vernacular is off the charts, he has a hard time finding the right words to express just how much you mean to him. so he finds ways to make your life more comfortable, even if it's just brewing your favorite tea or simply just listening to you talk about your day.

he's a busy man, but he still puts in an effort to set aside time for you. whenever there are days the opera epiclese is free of trials, he'll you out on romantic outings—whether it be a serene walk along fontaines picturesque beaches, or a quiet afternoon in a cafe, it's nice to spend these extra moments with you.

he definitely 100% makes sure you stay hydrated and often offers you a wide selection of his favorite types of water.

PDA is a no... he's fontaines honorable iudex after all, and he has an image to uphold. but he can be very touchy behind closed doors. his affection is featherlight and sweet, always sure to make you feel cherished and cared for. he loves holding your palms, leaning himself against you, cradling you close, anything as long as he gets to be near you.

he's obsessed with running his fingers through your hair.

as chief justice, neuvillette carries immense responsibilities. but emotional vulnerability doesn't come easily to him; he has a tendency to internalize things that are troubling him. but he tries his best for you, even though you often have to coax him into sharing.

he treats your happiness like a personal mission. he likes to do anything he can just to see you smile, and while gift giving isn't his area of expertise, he's not above leaving you fresh bouquets of romaritime flowers before he has to head off to work.

neuvillette isn't overbearing, but he has a natural instinct to shield you from harm. whenever you walk together, he always positions himself on the side closest to the street, and his hand hovers near your back in crowded spaces.

if anyone dares insult you or cause you harm, his polite veneer is quickly replaced by something much colder and more commanding. his voice sharpens, his eyes narrow, and he ensures the offender knows exactly how out of line they are.

sometimes he worries about the differences between you two—his immortality and your mortality—but he makes it clear that he deeply cherishes every moment he spends with you. "time is fleeting," he once told you. "but my love for you is not."

he just adores you, and cares for you intensely. the way he listens, the way he holds you close... his love is steady and endless, like the rain that sustains fontaine.

© lumitoiile. please do not copy, steal, or edit my work.

[stylesispunk]

"Shadows of the love under the laurel"

Marcus Acacius x fem!reader

Summary: In the shadows of the Roman Empire, you, a devoted servant, discover love with the honorable General Marcus Acacius. You both navigate the treacherous current of social expectations when a looming marriage comes to risk everything.

w.c: 13k.

warnings: themes of slavery and servitude, forbidden love, mentions of anxiety, mentions of blood, angst, fluff, poorly written smut, no proofreading.

a/n: I don't know what to write in here, but this one was a request by @negrita2345 i hope I did it justice and I hope you all enjoy it and share your thoughts with me because I really love to read your comments and thoughts. They make my day, so thank you in advance! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated 💌 happy reading 💌✨

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

The sound of the iron gate clanged shut behind you, a cold finality to another day of servitude. You knew that sound well, it was the only sound you had known since you were born, clamoring as a death knell, just reminder of your place in the world. You didn’t even own your freedom, yet you belonged to everyone who had put their hands on your skin or had thrown daggers at you. As a servant, your life was nothing but an endless circle of command shouted from faces that never bothered to learn your name. They simply called you “girl.”

In your twenty-three years, you had learned to endure the sting of insults, the cruel hands that shoved you from one task to another, and the stares that stripped all your dignity. Respect was something that didn’t exist for someone like you, born in the shadows of Rome’s grandeur. You were a property, a tool to serve, to scrub, to clean, and to remain unseen.

And today was no different. You had been sold again.

The place you now found yourself in was the biggest you’d seen. The walls were taller than the marble floors polished to a gleaming white that made your hesitant to step across them. A legion of other servants moved like silent specters, each one avoiding you gaze as you were ushered through the grand halls. It was as though no one acknowledged the arrival of new blood. In their world, new servants were as replaceable as the jugs of wine they carried.

As you moved through the villa, you hear whispers-murmurs of the man who ruled this place. General Marcus Acacius, a name that belonged to a man who had gained respect and admiration. He was no ordinary master, it seemed. He was a warrior, a man who had earned his position through conquest and battle. A man who stood close to the Emperor himself.

Your stomach knotted at the thought. Men of power, you had learned, were often the cruelest. The more they gained, the more they needed to remind those beneath them how little they mattered. You could only hope that Marcus would be indifferent—that he would not notice you at all.

“Girl, this way.”

A sharp voice broke your thoughts. One of the older housekeepers, her face lined with age and wear, beckoned you down a side corridor. It was darker here, the sunlight from the Roman skies barely reaching the shadowed walls. The keeper’s voice softened as you walked.

“You’ll serve General Acacious directly,” she said. “He’s… not like the others.”

You glanced up, surprised by the odd tone in her voice. You weren’t sure if the keeper meant it as a warning or a reassurance, but you nodded nonetheless, keeping your eyes lowered. You approached a set of heavy doors, carved with intricate symbols and flanked by tall, stoic guards. The keeper gestured toward them.

“The general is inside. Speak only when spoken to. He does not tolerate foolishness.”

With a final nod, the keeper disappeared down the corridor, leaving you alone. You stood for a moment, the weight of the moment pressing down on your chest. There was no telling what awaited you on the other side of those doors. You swallowed hard, brushing a strand of dark hair from your face before you stepped forward.

The guards opened the doors without a word, and you found yourself in a large, open room filled with the smell of burning incense and leather. It was dimly lit, the sunlight creeping through narrow windows high above, casting long shadows on the ground. Your gaze lifted, and then you saw him.

Marcus.

General Marcus Acacius stood by a table, bent over a map with a furrowed brow. His armor was still strapped across his broad shoulders, and the crimson cloak draped over his back gave him the appearance of a man who had just come from battle. He was taller than you had imagined, his presence commanding without a single word. His dark hair was cropped close, and his sharp features bore the marks of someone who had lived a life of discipline and war.

For a long moment, he did not acknowledge your presence. You stood still, your heart pounding as you waited for his command, for the words that would decide the course of your life here.

Finally, he looked up, his dark eyes locking onto yours. There was something in his gaze that startled you, not precisely cruelty, but something else. Something you couldn't quite name.

"You are the new servant?" His voice was low, measured. He didn’t shout like the others.

"Yes, General," you replied softly, lowering your eyes to the floor as was expected.

He watched you for a moment longer, and you could feel his gaze lingering on you, almost burning. It was as though he was seeing something in you that others had never cared to look for.

"Good," he said at last, turning back to his maps. "You will serve me directly. Be quick. Be silent. That is all."

His words were not cruel, nor were they kind. They were simple, matter-of-fact. You let out a quiet breath, your heart still pounding in your chest. You turned to leave, but something held you in place, a curiosity that stirred within you, a question you did not dare ask aloud.

What kind of man was General Marcus Acacious?

As you left the room, the weight of your life as a servant settled back onto your shoulders, but there was something different now, something you had not expected. It was faint, a flicker of warmth in the cold corridors of your mind.

In the days that followed, you learned what it meant to serve Marcus Acacius. His world was orderly, precise, and unyielding. He expected his servants to move with quiet efficiency, anticipating his needs before he voiced them. There was no room for error, but unlike you previous masters, there was also no room for cruelty. Mistakes were met with silence, not blows. It was a strange sort of mercy, one that left you both relieved and on edge.

You were tasked with attending to the general’s quarters, a task that placed you in close proximity to him every day. You polished his armor, prepared his baths, and ensured that the scrolls and maps he studied late into the night were neatly arranged. He rarely spoke to you, and when he did, it was brief and to the point. Yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he noticed you in a way no one else had.

It was in the quiet moments between orders that you caught fleeting glimpses of the man behind the title.

One afternoon, as you were cleaning his quarters, you heard a faint groan of pain. Startled, you looked up to see Marcus standing by the window, his hand gripping his side. His face was tight with discomfort, though he said nothing.

You hesitated, unsure if you should speak. “General… are you hurt?”

His eyes flicked toward you, the sharpness in them softening just slightly. For a moment, you thought he might ignore your question, but then he spoke.

“It’s nothing,” he said, his voice strained. “An old wound. It… flares up from time to time.”

He didn’t offer more, and you knew better than to pry. Yet, something in his tone—a vulnerability you hadn’t heard before made you want to help.

Without thinking, you set aside your cleaning cloth and moved toward him. “I could bring you something… some herbs. For the pain.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow, surprised by your boldness. “You know of such things?”

“My mother… she was a healer,” Your replied quietly, your eyes downcast. “Before…” You trailed off, not needing to finish the sentence. The silence filled in the gaps—before you were taken, before you became a servant.

He watched you for a long moment, as if weighing your words. Finally, he nodded. “Very well. Bring it.”

You hurried to the kitchens, your heart pounding. It was the first time Marcus had allowed you to do anything beyond your usual duties. As you gathered the herbs your mother had once shown you, the ones that could ease any pain and swelling, you thought of the strange connection you had felt in that moment. It wasn’t just your desire to help him. It was something deeper, something unspoken that passed between them.

When you returned to his quarters, Marcus was seated at the edge of his bed, the tension in his shoulders evident. You approached cautiously, mixing the herbs into a small vial of oil, then holding it out to him.

“You need to apply it to the wound,” you explained, your voice barely above a whisper. “It should ease the pain.”

Marcus took the vial from you, his fingers brushing yours for the briefest moment. His touch was warm, surprising you. Your eyes met, and in that fleeting second, you felt an unfamiliar flutter in your chest—a burn you quickly buried.

“Thank you,” he said, his tone sincere. It was a small word, but coming from a man like Marcus, it carried weight.

You bowed your head, stepping back as he stood and moved to apply the oil himself. You returned to your work, quietly cleaning the room, but your mind was elsewhere. You had never thought much of men, especially men of power. To you, they were all the same: cruel, indifferent, obsessed with their own glory. Yet, Marcus was different. He was distant, yes, and bound by duty, but he was also… something else. There was a complexity to him, a quiet pain that you couldn’t quite understand.

As the days passed, you found yourself watching him more closely. You noticed the way he carried the weight of command, his posture rigid, his eyes always alert. He was a man constantly at war, not just with the enemies of Rome, but with himself. You saw it in the way he would stare out the window late into the night, lost in thought, his fingers drumming against the hilt of his sword as though preparing for a battle that had not yet come.

And then, one evening, everything changed.

It was late, the rest of the household quiet, and you were tidying the general’s quarters as he sat by the hearth, reviewing maps of distant lands. The flicker of firelight cast shadows on his face, making him appear both weary and resolute. You were just about to leave when he spoke, his voice low and thoughtful.

“Tell me,”He said, following by the use of your name for the first time. “How did you come to be here? In this life?”

Your breath caught. No one had ever asked you that before. No one had ever cared to. You hesitated, unsure if you should answer, but the look in his eyes was not one of command. It was curiosity. Genuine, quiet curiosity.

“I was born into it,” you replied softly. “My mother… she was a healer in a small village outside of the city. But when the soldiers came, they took us. I was just a child then. I don’t remember much before it.”

Marcus’s gaze lingered on you; his expression unreadable. “And your mother?”

“She didn’t survive long after that. She grew sick, and no one would help her.”

There was a long silence after that, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room. You stood there, your hands clasped in front of you, waiting for him to dismiss you. But he didn’t. Instead, he sighed, a sound so faint you might have missed it had you not been standing so close.

“Life in Rome is rarely kind,” he said, his voice distant. “Even for those who believe themselves fortunate.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You simply stood there, watching as the general seemed to wrestle with thoughts he could not or would not speak aloud. Finally, he shook his head, as if clearing his mind, and looked at you once more.

“You may go,” he said, his tone once again that of a man in command. But there was a softness to it now, something that hadn’t been there before.

You bowed and left the room, your heart pounding. As you walked down the dark corridors of the villa, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you, that the lines separating servant and master had blurred, if only for a moment.

Weeks passed, and Your role in Marcus’s household became routine, yet far from ordinary. You had served many masters before, but none like him. There was a strange rhythm to your interactions now, a wordless understanding that passed between you in brief glances and moments too fleeting for anyone else to notice. Marcus was still the general, the powerful, untouchable figure, but there were cracks in his armor that only you seemed to see.

The changes were small at first. A few words exchanged at the end of the day, a subtle shift in the way his eyes lingered on you when you thought he wasn’t looking. It was during one such moment, late in the evening, that your quiet bond deepened.

You were clearing away the remains of his evening meal, the room lit only by the soft glow of a single oil lamp. Marcus sat at his desk, writing a letter, his brow furrowed in concentration. You moved silently, careful not to disturb him. But as you turned to leave, your hand brushed the corner of the table, knocking over a small cup.

The sound echoed in the stillness.

Your heart leaped into your throat. You had been so careful, always careful. You froze, waiting for the rebuke, the sharp words you had heard from other masters a hundred times before.

But instead of anger, Marcus’s voice came, calm and even. “It’s alright. Leave it.”

You paused, your fingers trembling as you stooped to pick up the cup, determined not to disobey. But as you did, Marcus spoke again, his tone softer this time.

“Do you always expect punishment so quickly?”

You straightened slowly, unsure how to answer. “It’s what happens when mistakes are made, General,” you replied quietly, your eyes still downcast.

Marcus stood, his towering frame casting long shadows in the flickering lamplight. He approached you slowly, the silence between you thick with unspoken words.

“Not here,” he said, his voice low. “You don’t have to fear that here.”

His words, though simple, carried a weight that you weren’t prepared for. For a moment, you dared to look up at him, meeting his eyes. There was something in his gaze—a gentleness that you had never expected to find in a man like him. It made your chest tighten, and you quickly dropped your gaze again.

Marcus sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “I don’t know what kind of men you served before, Mea Columba, but cruelty… it does not make a man stronger. It only makes him feared.”

He was quiet for a long time after that, standing just a breath away from you. You could feel the heat of his presence, the nearness of him unsettling but not unpleasant. You could sense the tension in the air, something unspoken hanging between you like a thread stretched too tight.

“You deserve better than that,” he said finally, his voice almost too soft for you to hear.

Your heart raced, your thoughts a tangled mess. How could he say such a thing? You were nothing more than a servant, a slave, how could someone like him believe you deserved anything at all? But in his words, you heard the truth of what he felt, and it terrified you as much as it filled you with something dangerously close to hope.

Before you could reply, before you could make sense of the moment, the door creaked open, and a soldier entered the room, interrupting them. Marcus immediately stepped back, his expression shifting into the impassive mask of the general once more.

“General Acacius,” the soldier said, bowing. “The emperor has requested your presence tomorrow. Urgent matters to discuss.”

Marcus’s jaw tightened. “Very well. Inform the Emperor I’ll be there.”

The soldier bowed again and left the room, leaving you and Marcus standing in the silence. The air between you had changed, something fragile, something delicate had passed between you, but neither dared acknowledge it.

“You may go” Marcus said, his voice once again composed, though you could sense the tension beneath it. “Get some rest.”

You bowed quickly and left the room; you heart still pounding in your chest. As you walked back through the dim corridors, you replayed his words in your mind

“You deserve better”

and wondered how dangerous it was to believe them.

You hadn’t expected him to say your name, less to hear a name with such affection from him It startled you, but in a way that made you feel seen, in a way that sent warmth through you despite the cool evening air.

“It’s all I’ve known,” you whispered, barely able to speak the words.

Days passed in a quiet blur, and the memory of that evening lingered between you, heavy and unspoken. Marcus was the same outwardly, maintaining his stoic demeanor in front of his soldiers, the senators, and his household. Yet, when he looked at you, when your eyes met across the room during your brief encounters, you could feel the shift in him, the way his guarded exterior faltered for just a moment.

It was in these fleeting moments that you began to understand the gravity of what was growing between you. You had never been close to a man before, not like this. Your world had always been one of shadows, of quiet obedience. But now, Marcus’s presence lingered in your thoughts, his words echoing in the stillness of your nights.

"You deserve better."

You couldn’t stop hearing it. And it frightened you. How could someone like him, someone with power, command, and the loyalty of an empire, care about someone like you, a servant who had spent her life in the background? The idea felt dangerous, as though it could upend everything you knew, yet it was there, undeniable.

The tension between you simmered, growing with each passing day. You never spoke of that moment again, but it hovered between you, thickening the air whenever you were alone.

One afternoon, you were attending to the general’s chambers when he returned earlier than expected from the training grounds. His tunic was damp with sweat, the edges of his dark hair clinging to his forehead, and a fresh bruise marked his arm.

He entered the room quietly, not saying a word at first, watching as you busied yourself, you’re your work. You tried to remain calm, to focus on your duties as you had always done, but the awareness of his gaze unsettled you. Finally, Marcus broke the silence.

he said your name, almost sounding hesitant.

You turned to face him, your heart quickening at the sound of your name. He had been saying it more often lately, and each time it carried a weight that made your pulse race. “Yes, General?”

For a moment, Marcus seemed to struggle with himself, his expression hard to read. He took a step closer, the air between you humming with tension. “You’ve been quiet lately,” he said, though the statement felt more like a question. “Are you… well?”

You blinked, surprised by the question. “I am, General. I—” You hesitated, unsure how to respond. The truth was, you had been keeping your distance, afraid of what might happen if you let yourself grow any closer to him. “I’ve just been… busy with my tasks.”

His eyes searched yours, as though he could see past your words to the truth beneath them. “You don’t have to keep your distance, mea columba,” he said quietly. “Not from me.”

The words sent a shiver through you. You wanted to step back, to remind yourself of your place, but something in his gaze held you still. There was a tenderness there, a vulnerability that you hadn’t expected to see in him.

“I’m only a servant,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You… you don’t have to concern yourself with me.”

Marcus’s jaw tightened, and he took another step toward you, closing the distance between you. “You’re more than that,” he said, his voice firm but soft. “You’re more than what this life has made you.”

Your breath caught. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond to the depth of his words. You had spent your whole life believing that your worth was measured by your service, by how invisible you could make yourself. But Marcus… he saw you. And it terrified you as much as it filled you with warmth.

“You deserve more than this life, mea columba” Marcus continued, his hand lifting ever so slightly as if he wanted to reach for you but stopped himself. “More than this… than the way others have treated you.”

Tears burned at the edges of your eyes, but you blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. You couldn’t let herself believe in what he was saying. It was impossible. He was a general, bound by duty and honor to Rome. And you were, no, you had to be nothing to him. Anything else was too dangerous to even imagine.

“Please,” you said, almost pleading, “don’t say such things. I can’t…” You trailed off, your words caught in your throat.

Marcus’s eyes softened, the hard edges of his face relaxing just slightly. “I know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know we can’t… but it doesn’t change how I feel.”

The admission hung in the air between you, raw and real. Your heart pounded, your mind reeling from the weight of his confession. You wanted to step forward, to reach out and touch him, to tell him that you felt the same—that his kindness, his quiet strength, had stirred something in you that you had never thought possible.

But she couldn’t. The world wouldn’t allow it. He was a man of power, and you were a servant. Their lives were too different, their paths too far apart.

And yet, standing there in the quiet of the room, with only the soft flicker of candlelight between you, it felt as though the rest of the world had disappeared, leaving only the two of you in the stillness.

Marcus reached up, his hand trembling ever so slightly as it brushed against your cheek. You gasped at the touch, your skin tingling under his fingertips. It was the first time he had touched you like this, softly, tenderly, as though you were something fragile and precious.

“I wish things were different,” he murmured, his thumb gently caressing the curve of your jaw.

You closed your eyes, leaning into the warmth of his hand despite yourself. You knew you shouldn’t, knew that this moment could only lead to heartache, but you couldn’t stop herself. “So do I,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

For a long moment, you stood there, suspended in the silence, the weight of your unspoken feelings pressing down on you. But then, just as quickly as it had begun, Marcus pulled away, his hand falling to his side. The mask of the general slipped back into place, his expression once again composed, though his eyes still burned with the emotions he couldn’t voice.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, stepping back. “I shouldn’t have—”

You shook your head. “No, it’s… it’s alright.”

But it wasn’t. You both knew it.

“You should go,” Marcus said, his voice rough with regret. “We… we can’t.”

You nodded, though your heart ached. “Goodnight, General.”

You turned and left the room, your heart heavy with the weight of what had just happened.

The days that followed were unbearable. You tried to go about your duties as usual, but you couldn’t shake the weight of Marcus’s words, the feel of his hand against your cheek, the unspoken desire that lingered between you. It haunted you in the quiet moments, in the stillness of night when you were alone with your thoughts.

And you could see it in him, too.

Every glance you shared, every brief exchange, held a tension that had not been there before. Marcus’s eyes lingered on you longer than they should, his gaze filled with something he dared not speak aloud. You could feel the conflict within him, the struggle between his duty and what lay deep in his heart.

One afternoon, as you were preparing the general’s chambers for the evening, you heard footsteps behind you. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was. You could feel his presence, the energy in the room shifting the moment he entered.

“Columba” he said softly, his voice different from the tone he used with anyone else. There was no command in it, no expectation—just a quiet plea.

You turned to face him, your heart already racing at the sound of your nickname on his lips. He stood in the doorway, his posture rigid, yet his eyes betrayed him. They were filled with the same turmoil that had been building between you for weeks.

“General,” you said, your voice steady though your heart was anything but.

He stepped forward, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. “Marcus,” he corrected, his gaze fixed on yours. “When we’re alone, please… call me Marcus.”

The intimacy of his request made your chest tighten. You had spent your life addressing him with titles, always reminding herself of the distance between you, but now… now he was asking you to cross that distance, to meet him as something more than a servant.

“Marcus,” you repeated softly, the word feeling foreign yet familiar on your tongue.

A small smile touched his lips, but it was strained. He walked slowly toward you, his movements careful, as though he was afraid to shatter the fragile space between you. When he stopped just a step away from you, you felt the air grow thick, the unspoken emotions pressing down on you both.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Marcus said, his voice low and rough with honesty. “I’ve tried… I’ve tried to bury it, to remind myself of who I am, of what’s expected of me. But every time I see you, every time I hear your voice… it’s like I can’t breathe.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. You had never imagined a man like Marcus, a man of such power and command, could feel this way about you. You had always been invisible, always kept in the shadows. But with him, you felt seen. And that terrified you.

“Marcus, we can’t…” You shook your head, your voice trembling. “You know we can’t. You’re a general. You serve Rome. I’m nothing more than a servant.”

“You are not nothing,” Marcus said sharply, his eyes flashing with a rare intensity. He reached out and gently grasped your wrist, his touch sending a jolt through you. “Don’t ever say that. You are everything I—” He stopped himself, his jaw tightening as if he were trying to restrain words he couldn’t say.

Your heart pounded in your chest. You could feel the heat of his hand on your skin, the warmth of his breath as he stood so close. Every instinct told you to pull away, to remind him of the impossibility of this, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t deny the pull between you, the feelings that had been growing in your heart, no matter how forbidden they were.

“Why me?” you whispered, your voice fragile as your heart. “Why would you care for someone like me, when you could have anyone?”

Marcus’s gaze softened, his grip on your wrist loosening but not letting go. He lifted your hand slowly, his thumb brushing over your palm in a gesture so gentle it made you ache. “Because you see me,” he murmured. “Not the general, not the man who leads armies or answers to the emperor. You see me.”

His words made your chest tighten painfully. You had always tried to stay invisible, to keep your head down and avoid the eyes of those who held power over you. But with Marcus, it was different. You saw the man beneath the armor, the one who carried the weight of duty and responsibility on his shoulders but longed for something more—something real.

“I can’t stop what I feel for you,” Marcus continued, his voice filled with raw honesty. “Even though I know it’s wrong, even though I know what the world would think if they knew… I can’t stop.”

You felt your resolve crumbling. You wanted to tell him that you felt the same, that his kindness, his gentleness, had woven its way into your heart. But the fear of what could come from this, the danger of their impossible love, held you back.

“I feel it too,” you admitted softly, you voice barely above a whisper. “But we have no future, Marcus. You know that. You’ll be expected to marry—”

“I know,” he interrupted, his voice tight. “I know I’m bound by duty. I’ve spent my whole life doing what Rome asks of me. But for once, Livia, I want something for myself.”

His words hung in the air, thick with longing and pain. Your heart ached for him, for the man who had given so much of himself to an empire that would never give him the freedom to love who he chose. And yet, even as you felt the weight of his confession, you knew the truth.

“Even if we want this,” you whispered, “Rome will never let it happen.”

Marcus’s face tightened with frustration, his hand still holding yours as though he couldn’t bear to let go.

You stood in silence for a long moment, the weight of your love pressing down on them. Your heart pounded in your chest, torn between the desire to give in to the feelings you had tried so hard to suppress and the reality of the world they lived in.

Finally, Marcus spoke again, his voice heavy with resignation. “I don’t know what the future holds,” he said softly. “But I know that for now… I need you here. By my side. Even if that’s all we can have.”

You swallowed hard, tears burning at the edges of your eyes. You knew he was right. Your love, if it could even be called that, would never be allowed to flourish in the light. But in the shadows, in the quiet moments you shared, it was real. And maybe, for now, that had to be enough.

You nodded, your voice barely audible as you whispered, “I’ll stay.”

Marcus’s shoulders seemed to relax, and for the briefest moment, a small, sad smile crossed his face. He gently released your hand, stepping back, the distance between you once again restored. But the bond you shared remained.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice filled with emotion. “For staying.”

It was a few days later, and the weight of your shared confession still lingered in the air. The nights had grown heavier with unspoken feelings, and each day, the tension between you and Marcus became harder to ignore. You told yourself to be content with what little time you could have by his side, though it tore at you, knowing that it would never be enough.

That evening, you were cleaning his quarters, your movements methodical, when the door creaked open behind you. You turned and saw Marcus step in, but this time he wasn’t the composed general you had grown used to. His tunic was torn at the shoulder, a dark patch of blood staining the fabric. His brow was furrowed, his jaw set in pain. He tried to stand tall, but there was no hiding the wince as he moved.

"Marcus," you gasped, forgetting all formality in the moment, rushing toward him. Your heart hammered in your chest, worry washing over you at the sight of him.

“It’s nothing,” he said gruffly, waving off your concern, though the tightness in his voice betrayed him. “Just a training injury.”

You moved closer, eyes searching his. You had seen him injured before—he was a soldier, after all—but this felt different. There was a vulnerability in the way he looked at you, as though he had allowed himself to come to you in a moment of weakness.

“You should sit,” you said softly, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. “Let me prepare a bath for you.”

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded, walking slowly toward the bed and sitting on its edge, his movements stiff and labored. His dark eyes followed you as you quickly went to work, preparing the bath with warm water and fragrant oils to ease his wounds and the tension in his body.

When you returned, you found Marcus removing his tunic, the fabric peeling away from the gash on his shoulder. His skin was marred with bruises, old and new, the marks of a warrior who had seen countless battles. But it was the fresh wound that made your heart ache, the sight of him in pain stirring something deep within you.

“Let me help you,” you whispered, kneeling beside him. He met your eyes, his expression unreadable, and then he nodded, allowing you to step closer. With trembling hands, you gently unfastened the remaining clasps of his armor, your fingers brushing against his skin. You tried to keep your touch professional, but each time your skin met his, a jolt of electricity shot through you.

Once he was bare to the waist, you guided him to the bath. He lowered himself into the warm water with a sigh, his muscles relaxing as the heat enveloped him. You sat on the stool beside the tub, gathering a soft cloth in your hands. You hesitated for a moment, the intimacy of what you were about to do settling heavily in your chest.

When you began to gently scrub his skin, the water rippling with each movement, Marcus closed his eyes, leaning back slightly. His breath came in slow, deep draws, and for a moment, it was as though the world outside the room no longer existed. There was just you, him, and the quiet sound of water.

Your hands moved carefully over his skin, your touch tender and cautious, tracing the contours of his shoulders, his back, the lines of his strong arms. You could feel the tension in his body slowly easing, though your own pulse raced with each moment that passed. The intimacy of the act was overwhelming, but Marcus made no move to stop you.

As you worked, you couldn't help but steal glances at his face, at the way the flickering candlelight danced across his strong jaw and the softness in his expression that he only ever showed when you were alone.

He opened his eyes after a long silence, catching your gaze. “You don’t have to do this,” he murmured, his voice husky from the warmth of the bath or perhaps something more.

“I want to,” you whispered, barely able to meet his eyes. “Let me take care of you.”

The vulnerability in your voice, in the gesture of your care, seemed to affect him deeply. Marcus’s eyes softened, and he reached out, his fingers brushing against your wrist in a silent gesture of thanks. The warmth of his touch lingered on your skin long after he pulled away.

For a long while, you continued in silence, the only sound the gentle splashing of water as you washed away the blood, the dirt, and the exhaustion from his body. Each stroke of the cloth felt like a confession, a quiet way of telling him what you couldn’t say aloud. That you cared for him. That you wanted to protect him in whatever small way you could, even though you knew you couldn’t keep him from the dangers of the world beyond these walls.

When you reached the wound on his shoulder, you were as delicate as possible, your touch light and careful. Marcus winced slightly, but he didn’t pull away. His eyes remained on you, dark and intense, watching every movement of your hands as though you were something precious.

“You’re always so careful,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why?”

You paused, your heart tightening at the question. How could you explain it? How could you put into words the way your heart ached for him, the way you wished to offer him comfort in a world that demanded so much of him?

“Because you’ve given me more kindness than I’ve ever known,” you whispered, barely able to say the words. “I want to give some of it back.”

Marcus’s gaze softened even more, and for a moment, it seemed as though he might say something, something that would change everything between you. But instead, he closed his eyes, leaning back into the water, his hand slipping beneath the surface and resting on the edge of the tub.

You continued to wash him in silence, your heart heavy with the knowledge that these moments, these stolen moments in the shadows, were all you would ever have. And yet, they felt so real, so profound, that you couldn’t bring yourself to regret them.

When the bath was finished, you helped Marcus stand, wrapping a towel around his broad shoulders. He stood before you, his body strong but weary, the weight of his duties ever present in his posture. You couldn’t help but reach out, your hand brushing lightly against the wound on his shoulder.

“Does it hurt?” you asked softly.

He shook his head, but his eyes told a different story. “Not as much as other wounds,” he said quietly, his gaze meeting yours. “Not as much as the ones I can’t show.”

Your heart clenched at his words. You understood. The wounds of battle were visible, but the wounds of the heart—the ones inflicted by duty, by honor, by a world that wouldn’t allow him to follow his desires—were far deeper.

Marcus’s hand reached out, his fingers gently curling around yours, and for a moment, he held on as though you were the only thing keeping him grounded. His eyes searched yours, filled with emotions too complex to name

Marcus’s fingers curled around yours, and in that moment, the air between you seemed to shift. The world outside his chambers fell away, leaving only the two of you, standing so close, bound by an unspoken connection that had been building since the moment you first laid eyes on him. The intensity in his gaze sent a shiver through you, and you felt your breath catch in your throat as his thumb gently brushed over the back of your hand, a simple touch that carried a weight neither of you could ignore.

His hand lingered, holding yours as if it was the only anchor he had left. His eyes were darker now, filled with emotions too complex to name—longing, conflict, something deeper that neither of you had dared to speak aloud. The space between you felt fragile, like a thread stretched too tight, and yet neither of you could pull away.

“Mea columba” he murmured, his voice rough, barely more than a whisper. The way he said your name sent warmth coursing through your veins, and you felt yourself trembling beneath the intensity of his gaze.

You opened your mouth to speak, to say something—anything—to break the silence, but the words wouldn’t come. You didn’t need them. Everything was in his eyes, the way they searched yours, as though he were trying to find an answer to a question he hadn’t yet asked.

Slowly, cautiously, Marcus took a step closer, his hand still holding yours. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, the pulse in your ears deafening as the space between you closed. His breath was warm on your skin, mingling with your own as he stood so close that the air felt charged, thick with something unspoken.

He reached up with his free hand, his fingers trembling slightly as they brushed a strand of hair from your face. The touch was so tender, so careful, that it made your heart ache. His thumb lingered on your cheek, his palm cradling the side of your face, as though he were afraid to break the moment, afraid to shatter the delicate connection you shared.

“I’ve tried to fight this,” he whispered, his voice filled with a quiet desperation. “I’ve tried to remind myself of what’s right, of my duty, of all the reasons why I can’t—”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. You already knew. You knew the weight of the world that rested on his shoulders, the impossible choice he faced between the life he was bound to and the feelings that had grown between you.

But in that moment, as you stood in the dim light of his chambers, none of it seemed to matter. It was just the two of you, and the pull between you was too strong to deny.

“Marcus,” you breathed, your voice trembling as his name passed your lips, a quiet plea for something you both knew couldn’t be undone.

He hesitated for just a moment, his gaze searching yours one last time, as if waiting for a sign, for permission to take that final, forbidden step. And then, with a soft, broken sigh, Marcus leaned in.

His lips brushed yours, so softly at first that it felt like a whisper, a question, a promise. The world seemed to still around you, the moment suspended in time as he kissed you with a tenderness that made your heart ache. His hand tightened around yours, holding you close, as though he were afraid to let go, afraid that this fragile moment would slip away if he loosened his grip.

And then, slowly, the kiss deepened. His lips pressed more firmly against yours, and all the emotions that had been building between you, longing, desire, love, poured into that single, desperate kiss. It was as though every unspoken word, every hidden glance, every touch that had lingered too long was finally allowed to come to life.

You kissed him back, your hand finding its way to his bare chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath your fingers. It beat in time with yours, fast and hard, as if it, too, was caught up in the storm of emotions swirling between you. His other hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer, his body warm and solid against yours.

For a moment, nothing else mattered. Not the rules, not the expectations, not the world outside these walls. There was only Marcus, his lips on yours, his hands holding you like you were something precious, something he had longed for but never thought he could have.

“I don’t know how we’ll keep this secret… but gods, I can’t stop myself. I don’t want to stop.”

You felt the same. You didn’t know how you would hide this, how you would keep it from the eyes of the world, but in that moment, you didn’t care. You had already crossed a line, and there was no going back.

“I don’t want to stop either,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “But we’ll find a way… we have to.”

Marcus’s hand slipped from your waist to your cheek once more, his fingers brushing softly against your skin. He leaned in again, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment as though he were trying to hold on to the peace you had found in each other, but as soon as your eyes connected in unspoken pleas, his lips found yours again, this time his kiss screamed desire for you.

The way his right hand slipped down your arm, his touch soft but filled with purpose, sent a shiver through you. His fingers trailed along the curve of your waist, pulling you closer as his lips remained firmly attached to yours, deepening the kiss with a slow, deliberate intensity that made your head spin.

His body pressed against yours, strong and warm, as if he were trying to merge your very beings into one. The world around you seemed to melt away, your senses consumed by the feel of him, the taste of him, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. Each moment felt suspended in time, the quiet intimacy of the moment holding you both captive.

You could feel the heat radiating off his body, his chest rising and falling in time with yours as the kiss grew more passionate, more desperate. His hand at your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him, as though he needed to feel every part of you, to confirm that this wasn’t a dream.

Your own hands, trembling with the weight of the moment, slid up his arms, feeling the strength beneath his skin, the tension coiled in his muscles. You had never been this close before, never allowed yourself to imagine being this close to him. And now, here you were, pressed against him in a way that defied everything you had been told about your place in the world, everything you had believed about what you deserved.

His lips moved against yours with a hunger that matched the fire burning in your chest. It wasn’t just desire, there was something deeper, something raw and unspoken that neither of you had been able to express until now. Every kiss, every touch, was a release of all the feelings you had kept locked away for so long.

As his lips parted from yours for just a moment, his breath hot against your skin, Marcus whispered your name again—so soft, so reverent that it felt like a prayer. His forehead rested against yours, his eyes half-closed, his voice thick with emotion.

“I can’t…” he whispered, his hand still resting firmly at your waist, holding you close as though he couldn’t bear to let go. “I can’t stop this.”

Neither could you. You didn’t want to. You were lost in him, in the warmth of his touch, in the way he held you like you were the only thing that mattered. You could feel the conflict within him, the weight of his duties and the forbidden nature of what was blossoming between you, but none of that mattered in this moment.

His lips found yours again, this time slower, more tender, as though he were savoring every second, memorizing the feel of you in his arms. His hand slid up your back, pulling you even closer, as if he needed to feel the beat of your heart against his own. You melted into him, your own hands finding their way into his hair, threading through the dark strands as you kissed him with a longing you had kept buried for far too long.

No long after, his fingertips caressed your shoulders, slipping the strips of your dress down your arms. None of you stopped locking your gazes as you felt you dress slipping down your body. You were completely bare in front of the man who had made your heart race like never before.

You had never felt like this before, and the fire in the pit of your stomach was a new sensation for you. There was fire everywhere.

Marcus swept his eyes down your body, clearly reacting to the sight in front of him. The dim light of the moon danced across your skin. Marcus couldn’t believe it. You were the most beautiful woman he laid his eyes on, and under his stare he could swear God had made you just for him to find you, to find love in your eyes and in the way they looked at him now.

He placed his right hand on your neck, before trailing the path down to your neck, your breasts, your stomach as if you were the most delicate map he had ever touched in his life.

Goosebumps arise on your skin as you gasped under his touch. The way he unbraided your hair and swept it, looking at you with adoration. He wasted no time to devour your lips with his, stealing the moaning sounds out of your mouth, when his fingers slipped into your entrance. He worked his was in and out, your mouths attached, and his tongue caressed your swollen lips.

Your hands made their way to his back, his chest, his stomach. A groan came out of his throat when your fingers found his cock. Before you could even react, he carefully laid you on your back, his eyes bored into yours. Your lips were parted by the surprise of his sudden movement, and yet you looked beautiful under his stare, and you could feel beautiful too. It felt like a dream, to had found love in someone like him.

Marcus reached out and cupped your breasts. Your nipples hardened at the touch, and he duck down taking one in his mouth. You whispered his name making his cock throb at the sound of you pleading him, clearly enjoying the was your stomach trembled under his body. He then spread your legs to find the place where you needed him the most.

“Marcus” you whispered; voice weak “please.”

He grumbled and buried his entire face on your cunt. Your legs tightened in surprise, but he kept them open by draping one over his shoulder. He'd done this before, but with you, it seemed different. This time, he couldn't contain his thrill at the thought of making you pleased. He wanted you not only for this reason, but also because you cared for him and he for you, and he desired to prove thar by making love to you and waking up next to you for the rest of his life.

He continued sucking on your clit until you gasped for air. You felt hot under his tongue, and the flavor of you drove him crazy.

“You’re so beautiful mea columba” he whispered, pushing your thighs further apart and took his cock to press the head into your cunt, pushing it with pressure. You both moaned. He dropped his head to your shoulder, inhaling your exquisite scent.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, voice trembling at the thought. You were tight. He knew for the way your eyes looked that you never had done this before, so he tried to be as careful as he could.

“Marcus” you moaned, whimpering. He was all the way inside you. He felt embarred as how weak he seemed because of you. He tried not to come so fast, while glancing between you every second to make sure he wasn’t hurting you.

When he felt himself getting close, he tried to lift your back, holding onto your waist, his chest against yours, lips devouring each other.

“I’m in love with you, mea columba” he whispered, while pounding into you with a steady but delicate force it made you squirm.

your lips and bodies moving in perfect harmony, the rest of the world slipping away as you both gave in to the feelings you could no longer deny. The weight of the consequences lingered at the edges of your mind, but in that moment, nothing seemed as important as this. As him. As the way his hand cradled your waist, the way he kissed you like he had been waiting for this his entire life.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads still resting together. The silence that followed was heavy, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was filled with the quiet understanding that you had both crossed a line, and there was no turning back now.

Marcus’s eyes flickered open, his gaze locking with yours, the intensity of his emotions shining clearly in the dim light of the room. His thumb brushed lightly against your waist, a touch so gentle, yet filled with a quiet urgency that made your breath catch in your throat.

“I meant it,” he whispered, his voice low and rough with emotion. “I’m in love with you.”

His words hung in the air, thick and heavy with a truth neither of you could deny anymore. And then, without hesitation, he leaned in and pressed his lips to your forehead, the kiss soft and lingering, filled with a tenderness that made your heart swell.

You felt a rush of warmth flood through your body, his confession sinking deep into your chest. You had heard it in his voice before, seen it in his eyes, but hearing those words—words you never thought someone of his stature would say to you—made everything feel real. His love was dangerous, forbidden, but it was also undeniable.

Tears burned at the edges of your eyes, not out of sorrow, but from the overwhelming emotions that surged through you—relief, joy, and the painful knowledge that this love, as real as it was, lived in the shadows.

“I…” your voice faltered, barely above a whisper. “I never thought I’d hear you say those words.”

His forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he closed his eyes, his hand tightening around your waist, pulling you even closer. “I’ve tried to fight it,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet anguish. “I’ve tried so hard to push it away, to tell myself it can’t be. But I can’t… I don’t want to fight it anymore.”

You felt the trembling in his voice, the vulnerability in his words, and it mirrored the storm of feelings inside you. You had spent so long burying your own emotions, convinced that someone like Marcus could never see you as more than a servant, more than someone beneath him. But here he was, his love laid bare, his heart in your hands.

A tear slipped down your cheek, and before you could speak, Marcus lifted his hand to your face, his thumb brushing the tear away with the same care he had shown you so many times before. His eyes were filled with something so raw, so real, that it made your chest ache.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words escaping you before you could stop them, but you didn’t want to stop them. They were the truth, and in this moment, you had no reason to hide.

Marcus closed his eyes again, his lips parting in a quiet, shaky breath, as though the sound of your confession had taken away the last of his restraint. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw with a tenderness that made you feel like you were the only person in the world.

“I’ll protect you,” he said softly, his voice filled with quiet resolve. “Whatever happens, whatever comes next… I won’t let anything take you away from me.”

His words were a promise, one that felt as fragile as it was powerful. You both knew the risks, knew the world wouldn’t accept this love, but in his arms, in this stolen moment, you believed him. You believed that somehow, against all odds, you might be able to hold on to each other.

As the night deepened, the warmth of Marcus's arms around you became a cocoon of safety and comfort, unlike anything you had ever known. The intensity of your shared confessions, the raw emotions lingering between you, began to soften into a quieter, more intimate connection. His hands, once rough with battle, now caressed your skin with the gentleness of a man who had found something worth protecting, something precious.

You remained in his embrace, the two of you sitting on the edge of his bed, the flickering candlelight casting soft, golden shadows across his quarters. Marcus's thumb traced slow circles against your back, his touch reassuring and grounding, as though he was afraid that letting go would make this moment slip away into a dream. His forehead still rested gently against yours, his breathing steady but deep, as if he, too, was caught in the weight of everything you had just shared.

“I never imagined feeling like this,” you whispered, your voice barely breaking the silence of the room. You weren’t sure if you were confessing to him or simply speaking aloud the truth of what was in your heart. “I never thought I’d ever know this kind of closeness, this… love.”

His grip on you tightened slightly, his lips brushing the top of your head. “Neither did I,” he murmured, his voice thick with sincerity. “Not like this. Not with you.”

For a while, neither of you said anything. The quiet sounds of the night outside his window drifted in—a soft wind, the distant murmur of soldiers on watch, the occasional flicker of torchlight from the corridors. But none of it touched the stillness that enveloped the two of you in this space. Here, with Marcus, the world felt far away.

You felt the exhaustion from the day, from the intensity of everything, slowly creeping into your limbs. Your eyelids grew heavy, and despite the swirl of emotions still lingering in your chest, a deep weariness began to settle over you.

Marcus must have sensed it too, because his hand moved to your cheek, lifting your face gently so that your eyes met his. His expression softened, the hardness of the general gone, replaced by the tenderness of a man who cared deeply for you.

“You’re tired,” he said quietly, his voice filled with concern. “You should rest.”

You opened your mouth to protest, not wanting to leave his embrace, not wanting to lose the warmth of his presence. But he only smiled, his thumb brushing across your cheek in a soothing motion. “Stay here. With me.”

It was more than just an invitation. It was a promise, a reassurance that you didn’t have to return to the cold solitude of your small, servant's quarters. Tonight, you could stay here, beside him, and find some peace in his arms.

You breathed in the scent of him, your heart finding a slow, steady rhythm against his, and in the safety of his embrace, you finally let go.

Marcus’s hand continued to stroke your hair, even as sleep pulled you under. You could feel his heartbeat beneath your palm, strong and sure, and it lulled you into the sweetest, most peaceful sleep you had known in years.

And just before the darkness of sleep claimed you completely, you felt him press one last kiss to your temple, his lips soft and warm against your skin.

“Goodnight, my love,” he whispered.

And with that, you fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, wrapped safely in his arms.

The days that followed were filled with an eerie calm, the quiet before the storm neither of you could ignore. You and Marcus fell into a rhythm of stolen moments—brushed hands when no one was looking, lingering glances that spoke more than words could ever say. In the dim light of dawn, in the safety of his quarters, your world shrank to just the two of you, the outside concerns held at bay for a little while longer.

But the world, especially one as ruthless as the Roman Empire, couldn’t be held back forever.

It began with hushed whispers from the servants, news of political maneuvering at the highest levels. You heard it first while fetching water from the well. Two women were gossiping, their voices low but clear enough for you to overhear.

“The Emperor’s orders,” one of them said, her tone almost gleeful. “General Acacius is to marry Lucilla, they say. It’s all but decided.”

Your stomach dropped, the bucket in your hand suddenly too heavy. You froze in place, the weight of those words sinking into you like a stone. Marcus is to marry. The Emperor’s will was absolute, and any personal desires, any feelings, would be swept away like dust in the wind.

You barely remember how you made it back to Marcus’s quarters, your mind a blur of emotions—dread, anger, helplessness. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing with the terrible reality you were trying to push away. By the time you arrived, your hands were trembling, your breath shallow as if the air itself had become too heavy to breathe.

When Marcus walked in later that evening, you could see it in his face before he even spoke. The weight of duty, the burden of decisions not his own, bore down on him like a heavy cloak. His eyes, once so full of warmth when they met yours, were shadowed with the knowledge of what was to come.

You tried to speak, to find the words to ask him if it was true, but they caught in your throat. Instead, you stood in silence, waiting for him to tell you.

“They’ve ordered it,” he said quietly, his voice strained. He didn’t meet your eyes as he spoke, as if doing so would make it all too real. “The Emperor has arranged a marriage.”

Your heart shattered at that moment, but you willed yourself not to show it. You had always known this was a possibility—he was a man of power and status, and the empire would always demand his obedience. Still, knowing didn’t soften the blow. You felt like the air had been knocked out of your chest.

Marcus took a step closer to you, his expression pained. “I didn’t want this,” he murmured. “I don’t want her.”

He reached for you, his hand hovering just above your arm as if unsure whether he still had the right to touch you. The distance between you felt insurmountable now, the shadow of his impending marriage looming over everything you had built together.

You pulled back, just enough to break the unspoken promise of his touch. “But you must,” you said, your voice trembling. “You have no choice.”

Marcus’s eyes finally met yours, and the anguish in them was more than you could bear. “I swore I would protect you, that I wouldn’t let anything take you from me.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to stay strong even as the tears threatened to fall. “And I swore I would stay by your side, no matter what,” you whispered. “But Marcus, this… this is the world we live in…I can’t stay here just to watch you being married to a woman who is not me.”

“I can’t lose you,” he said, his voice breaking. “I can’t pretend this marriage means anything to me. It’s politics, nothing more. You are what I want.”

You felt your resolve crumbling, the enormity of what you were facing pulling you under. “But once you’re married…” The words felt like poison on your tongue. “Once you’re bound to her…”

He shook his head fiercely, stepping closer again, this time not hesitating as he took your hands in his. His touch was warm, familiar, but it couldn’t erase the reality pressing down on both of you. “I won’t let her come between us. I won’t.”

Tears filled your eyes despite your best efforts to hold them back. You couldn’t stop the ache in your chest, the knowledge that your love would now have to exist in the shadows of Marcus’s new life—hidden, secret, and forbidden.

“What kind of life is that for us?” you asked, your voice breaking. “A love hidden away, always in the dark?”

Marcus’s jaw clenched, his eyes blazing with desperation. “We’ll find a way,” he insisted. “Even if the world says we can’t… we’ll find a way.”

You wanted to believe him, you wanted to hold on to the love that had grown between you, but the cold reality was seeping into every corner of your heart. This marriage wasn’t just an obstacle—it was a wall that you couldn’t break through.

You stepped away, pulling your hands free from his grasp. The distance between you felt like a chasm now, one that neither of you could cross. “I don’t know if love is enough,” you whispered, the weight of the world pressing down on your chest. “I won’t have my heart broken every day of my life just for you to see me from afar.”

Your words hung heavy in the air, each one a dagger piercing both your hearts. Marcus's face fell, the determination in his eyes flickering like a candle in the wind. He reached out once more, but hesitated, his hand hovering between you as if unsure whether he still had the right to touch you.

"Mea columba, please," he pleaded, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Don't say that. Don't give up on what we have."

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly brushed it away, straightening your spine to muster whatever strength you had left. "I'm not giving up," you replied softly. "But I can't live a life where I'm constantly in the shadows, hiding what I feel, watching you build a life with someone else."

He shook his head vehemently. "My marriage to Lucilla will be in name only. It means nothing compared to what I feel for you."

"But it changes everything," you insisted, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. "She will be your wife. She will stand beside you in public, share your home, perhaps even bear your children. Where does that leave me? Sneaking around in the dark, pretending I don't exist whenever others are near?"

Marcus's expression crumpled, pain etched into every line of his face. "I would never ask you to diminish yourself like that."

"But that's exactly what this would be," you said, stepping back further to put some distance between you. "I deserve more than to be a secret, Marcus. And deep down, you know that."

He opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. The silence stretched between you, filled only by the distant sounds of the bustling city beyond the walls—a world that seemed determined to keep you apart.

Finally, he spoke, his voice hoarse. "What are you saying?"

You took a shaky breath, gathering the courage to face the truth you'd been avoiding. "I'm saying that perhaps it's time for me to leave."

His eyes widened in alarm. "Leave? No, you can't. I won't allow it."

A bitter smile tugged at your lips. "You can't keep me here, not like this. Not when staying would mean watching you live a life, I can never be a part of."

Desperation flashed across his face. "I can speak to the Emperor. I can refuse the marriage. There must be a way—"

"And risk everything you've worked for? Your honor, your position?" You shook your head sadly. "You and I both know that's not possible. The Emperor's command is absolute. Defying him would only bring ruin upon you."

"I would risk it for you," he insisted, taking a bold step forward. "For us."

"And that's precisely why I can't let you do that," you replied gently. "I won't be the cause of your downfall.” You inhaled “Because you would end up despising me for it.”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every movement. "So, what then? We part ways? Pretend none of this ever happened?"

You felt your heart break a little more at the pain in his voice. "I don't want to forget," you said softly. "I will cherish every moment we've shared. But sometimes, love isn't enough to overcome the obstacles before us."

Marcus's shoulders sagged, defeat washing over him. "I can't accept that."

"Neither can I," you admitted, tears welling up once more. "But it's the only way we can both move forward without destroying each other."

He looked at you with a profound sadness, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hope. "Where will you go?"

You offered a small, sad smile. "I'll find somewhere. Perhaps another household, or maybe I'll find a way to make a life for myself beyond these walls."

A tense silence settled between you. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely audible. "When?"

You swallowed hard. "Soon. Before the marriage takes place."

He closed his eyes briefly, as if trying to steady himself against the inevitable. "At least allow me to ensure you're safe. Let me arrange for you to be placed somewhere you'll be treated well."

You considered refusing but knew it would ease his mind. "Alright," you agreed quietly. "Thank you."

Marcus stepped closer once more, and this time you didn't pull away as he reached out to cup your face gently in his hands. "I love you," he whispered, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "That will never change."

A sob escaped your lips, and you placed your hand over his. "And I love you. More than you could ever know."

He leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours, and for a moment, the two of you stood there, memorizing every detail of each other's faces—the warmth of your breaths mingling, the softness of his touch, the sorrow in his eyes.

"Promise me something," he said softly.

"Anything."

"Promise me you'll find happiness," he murmured. "That you'll live the life you deserve."

You nodded slowly. "I promise."

A single tear rolled down his cheek, and he pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you as if it were the last time—as indeed it might be. You clung to him, wishing you could freeze time, keep this moment suspended forever.

After what felt like both an eternity and a mere heartbeat, you pulled away, knowing that if you didn't leave now, you might never find the strength again. "Goodbye, Marcus," you whispered.

He reached into the folds of his tunic and pulled out a small object—a simple silver pendant engraved with a laurel wreath. "Take this," he said, pressing it into your hand. "So you'll always have a part of me with you."

You looked down at the pendant, your vision blurred by tears. "I will treasure it always."

With a final, lingering glance, you turned and walked away, each step heavier than the last. As you left his chambers, the weight of your decision settled fully upon you, but beneath the pain, there was a quiet resolve. You were choosing your own path, difficult as it was.

Behind you, Marcus remained standing, watching you go until you disappeared from sight. The echo of your footsteps faded, leaving him alone with the emptiness of the room and the ache in his heart.

The days that followed were a blur. True to his word, Marcus arranged for you to be placed in the household of a kind widow on the outskirts of the city. The woman, Julia, welcomed you warmly, unaware of the depth of your connection to the general. To her, you were simply a skilled servant in need of a place, and she was grateful for the help.

Life in Julia's home was peaceful, a stark contrast to the turmoil of your emotions. Each day, you performed your duties diligently, but your thoughts often drifted back to Marcus—the sound of his voice, the warmth of his embrace, the intensity of his gaze as he declared his love for you.

News of his impending marriage reached you through whispers in the marketplace. The union was to be a grand affair, solidifying political alliances and elevating Marcus's standing even further. You tried to steel yourself against the pang of jealousy and sorrow that accompanied these rumors, reminding yourself that this was the path he was bound to follow.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson, you found yourself standing on a hill overlooking the city. The distant sounds of celebration drifted up to you—the marriage ceremony was taking place. Clutching the silver pendant around your neck, you closed your eyes and whispered a silent farewell.

"May you find happiness," you murmured into the evening breeze. "And may our paths cross again in another life."

As the first stars appeared in the sky, you took a deep breath and turned away from the city. There was a whole world beyond Rome's walls, and perhaps, in time, you would find your place in it—where you could heal and maybe even find joy once more.

Weeks passed, each one heavier than the last. You had settled into Julia’s villa , trying to find peace in the simplicity of your new life. But the ache in your heart remained, the thought of Marcus and his looming marriage never far from your mind. Each night, you clutched the silver pendant he had given you, hoping it might somehow tether your heart to his, even from a distance.

It had been months since you had last seen him, and you had resigned yourself to the reality that Marcus’s life had moved on, even if yours still felt frozen in time. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

One late afternoon, as you were tending to the garden outside Julia’s villa, you heard the distant sound of horses approaching. You looked up, wiping your hands on your apron, and saw a group of soldiers in familiar Roman armor riding up the path. Your heart skipped a beat. Could it be?

When they came to a stop, your breath caught in your throat. There, dismounting from his horse, was Marcus—his eyes searching frantically until they landed on you.

Your heart raced, and before you could even process what was happening, Marcus was striding toward you, his face a mix of determination and relief.

"Marcus?" you whispered, barely able to believe your eyes.

Without hesitation, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly, as if he had been afraid you might vanish if he let go. His warmth surrounded you, and for the first time in months, you allowed yourself to hope again.

"I found you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I told you we'd find a way."

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, confusion clouding your thoughts. "But… your marriage? Lucilla?"

Marcus shook his head, his gaze locked with yours. "It's over. The Emperor himself annulled it."

Your breath caught in your throat. "What? How? Why?"

A faint smile touched his lips, though his eyes were serious. "Lucilla… she didn’t want this marriage any more than I did. She petitioned to me, and together we spoke to the emperor. She’s in love with someone else, someone who she could never marry while bound to me." He paused, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. "And the Emperor, surprisingly, agreed to release both of us."

You stared at him, stunned, unable to fully comprehend what he was saying. "So, you’re free?"

He nodded. "I’m free, mea columba. I can choose my own path now. And I’ve come to ask you to walk it with me."

Tears welled in your eyes, but this time, they were tears of joy. "Marcus, I…" you stammered, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of emotions. "Is this real? Are you really here?"

He smiled then, the first genuine smile you’d seen from him in so long. "Yes, it's real. I love you. I don’t care what anyone else says or thinks. I want you by my side, not in the shadows. I want you to be with me—openly, proudly."

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Everything you had feared, all the obstacles that had once seemed insurmountable, had fallen away. And standing before you was the man you loved, offering you the life you had once thought was impossible.

You smiled through your tears, your heart bursting with happiness. "I love you, Marcus," you whispered. "And yes, I’ll walk that path with you. Wherever it leads."

With that, he leaned in and kissed you, a kiss full of promise and hope, sealing the future you would share. At that moment, everything felt right. The shadows of the past no longer held power over you, and the weight of uncertainty had lifted from your shoulders.

Marcus took your hand when he finally pulled away, lacing his fingers through yours. "Come," he said softly. "Let’s go. There’s a whole world waiting for us."

A few months later...

The soft morning light filtered through the open window of the villa, casting a golden glow over the room as you slowly stirred awake. The cool breeze carried the scent of wildflowers from the hills, filling the air with the promise of a new day. You lay in bed, nestled in Marcus's strong arms, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing.

For months now, you had known peace, a life far removed from the chaos and expectations of the Roman court. Marcus had retired from the military, choosing a quiet life with you in the countryside. The villa had become your sanctuary, a place where you could live freely, without the burden of secrecy or fear. No more hiding in the shadows—your love had found the light.

Gently, you shifted in Marcus’s embrace, your hand resting over your growing belly. A small, soft smile spread across your face as you felt the faint flutter of movement inside you. Marcus stirred beside you, his arms tightening around you instinctively, as though even in sleep, he wanted to protect you.

You gazed down at your hand, marveling at the life that grew within you—a symbol of the love you and Marcus had fought so hard to protect. This child, your child, was the future you had once feared might never come.

Marcus’s eyes slowly opened, and he smiled sleepily as his gaze met yours. "Good morning," he murmured, his voice deep and warm.

"Good morning," you whispered back, your hand still resting on your belly. His eyes followed the movement, and his expression softened as he reached out to place his hand gently over yours.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice filled with tenderness.

"I'm well," you replied, your smile widening. "The baby’s been very active this morning."

Marcus’s face lit up, and he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “And he will know freedom.”

His gaze lingered on you, filled with a deep, unwavering love. "I still can’t believe this is real," he said quietly, his thumb gently brushing your hand. "After everything, we’re here—together—and soon, we’ll have a family."

You felt tears prick your eyes, not of sorrow this time, but of pure happiness. "It’s everything I never thought I could have," you admitted softly. "But now, I can’t imagine life any other way."

Marcus leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a tender kiss, one that spoke of all the joy and gratitude you both felt. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, as if savoring the moment.

"I love you, Mea columba" he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "More than words can say."

"And I love you," you replied, your heart swelling with happiness. "For always."

Together, you lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of your journey behind you and the promise of a bright future ahead. The child you carried was a testament to your love, a symbol of the life you had built together despite all the odds.

Outside, the world continued to turn, but here, in this quiet, peaceful place, you had everything you had ever dreamed of, Marcus, your love, and the family you would soon welcome into the world.

The future stretched out before you, filled with light, joy, and hope. And as the first rays of sunlight touched the horizon, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you and Marcus would face them together, stronger than ever, bound by a love that had defied the impossible.

Your love had triumphed. And now, the greatest adventure of all was about to begin, the creation of a family, born out of that love.

[astrids-blog333]

All Eyes on Us

Ex!Lando Norris x Actress!Reader x Aaron Taylor Johnson

Summary: After a public and messy breakup with Lando Norris you attend the Oscars. You are seated next to the charming Aaron Taylor Johnson, fully aware of the paparazzi’s presence, but you no longer care.

Warnings: 16+ SUGGESTIVE content, mild angst with a happy ending, neglect, alcohol consumption, breakup (very public), media scrutiny, language, jealousy, she's an icon.

A/N: I combined two requests for this, one was for Lando where he was basically an idiot, and one was a very generic one for Aaron Taylor Johnson. Lando is basically the bad guy here (sorry Lando ily). Divider by @strangergraphics-archive

MASTERLIST

WC: 1.6k

Fame is utterly exhausting. Not the kind that comes with long hours on set or press tours across continents, that kind of fame you’ve mastered by now.

No, it’s the kind that finds its way into your personal life, the kind that controls your life, the kind that makes your relationship feel like a spectacle instead of something real.

You and Lando had been together for nearly three years, give or take. A golden couple, they called you. Hollywood’s sweetheart and Formula 1’s rising star. To the world, it was perfect. Behind closed doors? Maybe not so much.

You tried to tell him and explain how distant he’d become, how everything started feeling like a badly executed PR stunt rather than a real, loving, relationship.

Lando never wanted to hear it.

He’d always just brush it off, tell you that you were overthinking, that he was just very busy, that of course he loved you, but still, he was busy.

When you finally ended things, it wasn’t because of some grand betrayal or explosive fight, there was no cheating or crying. It was just a conversation that turned into an argument, that turned into silence, that turned into the realization that this wasn’t love anymore, it had become a simple habit.

He hadn’t wanted to let go. Maybe you hadn’t either. But you did, you had to.

And of course the world, the press, everyone had plenty to say about it.

The whole situation became a circus. Headlines and articles analysed every piece of your relationship, fans took sides, and social media exploded with ridiculous speculation.

Some called you heartless for leaving him, others accused him of neglecting you. In every interview, and every public appearance, someone asked you about Lando.

Two weeks later, the Oscars came, and of course you were going.

The minute you step onto the red carpet you can feel the cameras eating you alive. You know exactly what they’re looking for, any hint of heartbreak, some sign that you’re still reeling and hurting after Lando.

Well, too bad for them.

As you step into the grand ballroom, scanning the room for your seat, a staff member gestures you in the right direction. Your eyes follow their directions, only to land on none other than Aaron Taylor-Johnson, already seated beside your spot.

“You look like you were expecting someone else,” Aaron muses as you take your seat beside him.

You smirk, turning to face him. “No complaints. Just surprised.”

He leans back, studying you with that easy, knowing gaze. “Better me than, I don’t know, an ex?”

You smirk, “Much better.”

The chemistry is instant and so effortless. He flirts shamelessly, and you don’t stop him. Why would you? It feels good to be seen, to feel properly appreciated for the first time in months.

And when your name is called for Best Actress, Aaron is the first to stand, clapping as if he already knew you’d win.

The walk to the stage is a blur. The speech, too. But when you glance back at your seat and catch Aaron watching you, his chin resting on his hand, that unmistakable glint in his eye, you decide to have a little fun, to adlib, just a little.

“…And finally, to everyone who thought I’d be too distracted by my, admittedly, hectic personal life to focus on my career,” you say, letting the pause hang. “Guess you were wrong.”

The audience erupts in laughter and applause. You struggle to suppress your grin as you return to your seat.

Aaron, waiting for you, shakes his head with a slow clap. “Now, that was a moment.”

But the night isn’t over yet, because you and Aaron are presenting an award together.

When you arrive on stage, Aaron adjusts the mic, glancing at you before addressing the audience. “It’s always a pleasure standing beside such incredible talent.” He pauses, his gaze lingering. “Some of us know how to appreciate a winner.”

The room reacts instantly, people letting out cheers, and murmurs, some people simply laughing.

You shoot him a look, playing along. “And some of us know how to share the spotlight.”

“Or steal it entirely,” he counters, voice dripping with amusement. “Not that I mind.”

“Right." You shoot him a knowing look. "Tonight, we are here to celebrate the best of the best.”

Aaron stills beside you, then suddenly turns his attention back to the audience, mischief in his eyes.

“And of course, we know how important it is to celebrate talent, don’t we?” He glances at you before continuing. “Because, you know, nothing’s worse than when hard work and brilliance go underappreciated.”

Someone in the audience gasps, catching onto the implication. Your lips twitch, but you school your expression into something innocent.

“Oh, absolutely,” you agree, nodding. “It’s almost tragic, really.” You pause, then add, “Though, to be fair, some people just don’t recognize a good thing until it’s already gone.”

A mix of gasps, laughter, and scattered applause fills the room. Aaron bites down on a grin.

“Brutal,” he murmurs, just loud enough for the mic to pick up.

Aaron exhales, shaking his head. “And here I was, thinking I’d be the one causing trouble up here.”

You smirk. “I like to keep you on your toes.”

The moment stretches, cameras flash, capturing every smirk, every glance, every touch that lingers just a second too long. This was definitely going viral.

Finally, Aaron clears his throat, shaking his head as if pulling himself back to reality. “Right. The award.”

“Yes,” you agree, dragging your attention back to the envelope in your hands. “Before we get ourselves in trouble.”

“Bit late for that,” he mutters, winking at the camera.

The audience laughs as you open the envelope, reading out the winner’s name. But as the applause swells around you, Aaron leans in once more, his breath warm against your ear.

“Reckon we just became everyone’s new favourite scandal?”

You glance at him, deliberately brushing your fingers against his. “Oh, absolutely.”

Hours later, you step out of the afterparty, Aaron’s suit jacket draped over your shoulders. The night air is crisp, but his arm is warm beneath your fingers as you hold onto him.

The moment the paparazzi spot you together, flashes explode like fireworks.

You know what they’ll say. What they’ll assume.

But who cares? Let them.

Aaron seems completely unbothered, tilting his head down toward you as you walk toward the waiting car. “We could give them something real to talk about,” he teases.

You smirk. “Oh? And what do you suggest?”

He doesn’t answer. Just tugs you a little closer, manoeuvring his arm to wrap around your waist.

By the time you wake up the next morning, sunlight spilling through unfamiliar windows, your phone is vibrating, nonstop.

Aaron stirs beside you, groaning. “Either someone’s dying, or the internet’s having a meltdown. Your phone has been going off for the past 10 minutes.”

You grab your phone, unlocking it to see headline after headline.

"From Heartbreak to Headlines: Actress Moves On in Style

Fast Love? Ex-Girlfriend of F1 Driver Steals the Spotlight with British Heartthrob

New Power Couple? Fans Obsess Over Their Sizzling On-Stage Banter

Is This the Rebound of the Year? Hollywood’s Newest Rumored Couple Has Everyone Talking"

And they keep coming, you giggle, scrolling through the endless speculation. “Well, they wasted no time.”

Aaron shifts closer, peering at the screen over your shoulder. “Damn. They could’ve at least picked better photos.”

You giggle, resting against him as you read through the absurd theories. But before you can enjoy it too much, your phone rings.

Lando.

The name flashes across the screen, and for a moment, you hesitate.

Aaron notices. “You gonna answer that?”

You inhale, then exhale. “Might as well.”

The second you pick up, Lando’s voice is sharp. “Are you serious?”

You sigh. “Good morning to you too.”

“Don’t do that,” he snaps. “You and—him? Really?”

Aaron, still beside you, smirks and mouths, Him? pointing at himself dramatically.

You press your lips together, suppressing a laugh. “Lando, why do you care?”

“Because—” He hesitates. “Because it’s been two weeks. And now you’re all over the news, acting like...like none of it meant anything.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, please. I was done before we even broke up, and you know it.”

Lando exhales sharply, silent for a moment.

Then, Aaron leans in, his lips brushing your ear. “Want me to take this?” he whispers.

You grin. “Be my guest.”

Before Lando can argue, Aaron takes the phone from your hand. “Alright, mate,” he says smoothly, his voice all lazy amusement. “Let’s not do this, yeah?”

There’s a stunned silence on the other end.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Aaron grinned, completely unbothered. “Not at all. But you know, if you called just to shout at her, I’d suggest finding something better to do with your time. We’re a little busy.” He winks at you.

Your jaw dropped as you smacked his arm, but he just winked at you, entirely enjoying himself.

Lando swore under his breath before hanging up.

Aaron tosses the phone onto the bed, smirking. “Well, that was fun.”

You burst out laughing, shaking your head. “You’re terrible.” He wraps an arm around you.

“Yeah, but you love it.” He grins, "Now, I have a really great idea of what we could be doing instead of thinking about Lando."

"What's that?"

He shifts, suddenly on top of you, running his hands down your sides.

"Well..."

[fastandcarlos]

: ̗̀➛ IMAGINE

: ̗̀➛ Cuddles Are Home

as max arrives home after a busy day, he's keen to try something new, however it doesn't quite work out as well as he imagined

: ̗̀➛ Sweet Voice

the sobs of your daughter could be heard for miles, but there's one voice that always seems to know the way to soothe her

: ̗̀➛ The Biggest Tease

you're all for supporting max's career, but isn't a sex ban just a step too far?

: ̗̀➛ Restless Baby

1.1k words of dad and husband max trying to fix the angsty mess that he’s made

: ̗̀➛ Padel Queen

when max suggests couples padel with george and carmen, he worries about how good you'll be, little does he know though what a master of padel you are

: ̗̀➛ Never An Interruption

you’re all ready to celebrate max’s win with him, only when you find someone already there to celebrate, you begin to question the role you truly play in max’s life

: ̗̀➛ The Perfect Wake Up

reunited at last, the two of you savour the feeling of finally being back with each other again

: ̗̀➛ Sleepless Nights

as your daughter cries out yet again, you can’t help but feel like the problem, especially when max swoops in and saves the day again

: ̗̀➛Baby Sibling

whilst all his friends are having siblings, your son is keen for the two of you to start thinking about when he can have one too

: ̗̀➛ Bump Cuddles

watching you pregnant is a dream for max, especially with your bump there on offer for him to always snuggle up to

: ̗̀➛ Sleepless Nights

when max leaves you and your daughter to stream for the night, only one of you is happy to let max go and play for a while

: ̗̀➛ Helping Hand

what was supposed to be a nice dinner for the two of you is ended with fans waiting around. with your nerves growing, max is there to protect you

: ̗̀➛ My Little Graduate

you’re all prepared to graduate with your family by your side, and an unexpected extra sneaking into the crowd

: ̗̀➛ Home For The Summer

travelling around the world with max is one of your favourite things to do, however none of it compares to home. even though you can’t afford to make it there, someone else might just

: ̗̀➛ Clingy

how does it feel to have the clingiest partner in the world? well, max verstappen can tell you

: ̗̀➛ All Your Little Things

imagine being able to date the perfect gentleman, well that’s exactly what you get being the one in a relationship with max

: ̗̀➛ She's In Labour, Now?

it wasn’t supposed to happen yet, especially with max preparing for a race…

: ̗̀➛ SMAU

: ̗̀➛ Family Affair

it’s a family affair at the singapore grand prix as the entire verstappen family come to cheer max on

: ̗̀➛ Missing Piece

fans are beginning to notice your absence around the paddock, little do they know the amazing reason you’re finding yourself hiding away

: ̗̀➛ Hometown Glory

it all leads up to the race at zandevoort, and we all know how it ends

: ̗̀➛ Life With The Verstappen Family

a glimpse into the life of the verstappen family and your two little ones who are always causing chaos

: ̗̀➛ A Decade Of Love

as you and max celebrate ten years together, take a look at a snapshot of your social media for each one of those years

: ̗̀➛ Summer Break

with three weeks off to enjoy yourselves, you and max make the most of it adventuring together

: ̗̀➛ "Hey Stranger!"

with your conflicting schedules, match day always clashes with race day. it means it’s been a while since you’ve seen max, until you pull a few strings 🥺

: ̗̀➛ Baby Perez Is Mine

after getting to know your brother’s team mate max, you soon find that it’s more than just a friendship that’s struck between the two of you

: ̗̀➛ TEXTS

: ̗̀➛ Pregnant Wife Texts

[onlyangel4]

sweet by majid jordan with lando, maybe lando didn't think he would ever fall in love again until he met reader

sweet. ln4. smau.

lando norris x model!reader

lando began to think that love was never going to find him again but after meeting reader he realised that good things come to those who wait

faceclaim: isabelle mathers

ln4fan

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 34,273 others

ln4fan: it has been almost two years since lando and lusia broke up and since then he has not been seen with anyone in a romantic way. i feel so bad for my boy he deserves love.

view all 1,273 comments

user1: i miss boyfriend era lando so much

user2: recently in an interview he said "it is really difficult to juggle a love life and this job, at the moment the job is my priority so i am not expecting to find love at the moment

user3: i just want my boy to be happy

y/ninsta posted a story

written: time to attend my first gp, a right of passage, can't believe i have never been to one in three years of living in monaco

f1celebs

liked by user4, user5, user6 and 43,843 others

f1celebs: model, monaco native and longterm friend of alexandra saint mleux y/n y/ln has arrived to the monaco grand prix. she will be spending the race in the ferrari garage

view all 348 comments

user4: i don't know who she is but she is gorgeous

user5: i just found her instagram she is stunning

user6: alex has the prettiest friends

y/ninsta posted a story

written: well done cha!

y/ninsta posted a story tagging alexandrasaintmleux

written: time to celebrate bestie's boyfriend

f1updates posted a story

written: lando norris spotted arriving at a restaurant in monaco to celebrate the gp. also in attendance charles and alex. daniel ricciardo and heidi, max and kelly, pierre and kika, along with alexandra's friend y/n y/ln

y/ninsta posted a story

written: nights like these

y/ninsta posted two stories

landonorris posted a story

written: sometimes you just need to get on a boat

ln4updates

liked by user7, user8, user9 and 48,274 others

ln4updates: lando is spending summer break in monaco and he was spotted outside of a bar in monaco with an unknown woman. could lando be back in his boyfriend era?

view all 1,328 comments

user7: he usually goes away for summer break, i wonder why he is staying in monaco

user8: now this could be a long shot but hasn't he met y/n y/ln, she lives in monaco. that could be a good enough reason to stay.

user9: he looks really happy, that's what matters

landonorris

liked by mclaren, y/ninsta, charlesleclerc and 1,329,233 others

landonorris: summer break done, time to get back to work

view all 13,282 comments

mclaren: will we be meeting mystery girl sometime soon

landonorris: fingers crossed for zandvoort

user10: omg he is out of his single era

user11: i am still convinced it is y/n, she liked the post

user12: looks like someone had an eventful summer break

y/ninsta posted a story tagging alexandrasaintmleux

written: self care on the plane is essential

alexandrasaintmleux posted a story tagging y/ninsta and flavy.barla

written: netherlands with my girls

mclaren posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: new driver for next season?

y/ninsta

liked by landonorris, alexandrasaintmleux, flavy.barla and 987,654 others

tagged: landonorris

y/ninsta: i am the proudest girlfriend in the entire world, well done lando!

view all 12,322 comments

landonorris: i love you so much

y/ninsta: love you more

flavy.barla: the perfect couple

y/ninsta: love you flavy

alexandrasaintmleux: lando should watch his back it is my master plan to steal you from him

landonorris: charlesleclerc what should we do about this

charlesleclerc: i fear there is nothing we can do

y/ninsta: you are correct cha

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

TAGLIST SIGN UP SHEET

taglist: @formulaal @formulaonebuff @danielshoe @noooway555 @dilflover44

@peterholland04

@sunshinedaisy21

@nikfigueiredo

@fall-bambi

@mel164

@lando-505

@charllleclerc

@paigem00

@heavy-vettel

@pseudoyo

@simple-soul-searcher

@lyannesworld

@wordesthatics

@toldyouitwasamelodrama

@sltwins

@aquamariene-me

@justarandomfamdomblog

@janeh22

@kol67-t

@gr3yhues

@luckyladycreator2

@nichmeddar

@multi-fandom5

@whatthefl1p

@stradlingmrstradlin

@notpeachybby

@kikiki04

@marknolee

@asparklysoul

@sleutherclaw

@stinging--nettle

@holybatflapexpert

@gothicwidowsworld

@pear-1206

@scorpiodiosa

@charlesgirl16

@marshmummy

@jess-wither

@callsignwidow

[latenightdaydreams]

Viking!König x Reader Part 3 (fem)

MDNI🔞

Part 1, Part 2

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, lactation kink, pregnancy, depression, fingering

1.7k word count

.

.

As you sit in a grand wooden chair with beautiful hand carvings of a wolf and runes, you gaze out at the large fire before you. Watching the embers rise from the ashes, you zone out and go into your own mind. Around you there are loud cheers of celebration. It’s night two of the celebration to welcome their beloved leader’s new bride. 

You sit wearing a yellow dress that hugs your heavy breasts so perfectly for König’s lustful gaze. Other men look, but don’t dare comment on how stunning you are. König stands drinking as he gazes back at you. The look on your face is clear that you aren’t in the mood to be here. He excuses himself and walks to you, sitting in the chair matching yours beside you.

“Liebling, are you not having fun?” His voice is gentle as he rubs your back comfortingly.

Your attention turns to König. His blue eyes lock with yours, giving you the sensation of butterflies in your stomach. “I am just feeling tired.” Not a complete lie, you are tired still from the stress of everything that’s happened recently.

König stands and holds his hand out for you to hold. “Let us go back to our home.”

You look at his hand extended to you with hesitation. “I don’t want to ruin your celebration.”

“It’s our celebration. Besides, as your husband, your happiness is my new priority.” He gives you a genuine, gentle smile. “Come on.”

You slip your hand in his and stand. König announces your departure, but encourages everyone to continue the joyful festivities. His eyes glued to you the whole walk back to your shared home. Once inside, he brings you to the bed so you can sit. He gets on his knees before you and pulls each shoe off for you.

“Let’s get you comfortable.” König almost whispers to you as he removes your accessories from your body and assists you in removing your dress. His eyes gloss over your body as you sit on the bed naked. He can feel his cock get erect as his eyes fall on your full breasts.

“Would you like for me to relax you?” His hands caress your legs as he asks to drink from your breasts.

“No.” Your voice is small. You feel tired and emotionally drained.

König simply nods and caresses the side of your face. “Let’s get you to bed.” He walks over to the other side of the bed, undressing as he does. Once on the bed, he crawls behind you, delicately grabbing you and bringing you to him. Your naked bodies pressed together under the thick blanket, covering you both. You curl yourself into a small ball, enjoying the feeling of security he gives you.

“I love you, y/n. I hope to dream of you tonight.” He whispers, kissing your forehead gently as his eyes close. His fingertips roam over your soft skin. Your tender warmth being everything he craves.

You don’t say it back, he doesn’t expect you to. He understands that you’re still in a state of adjusting to your new life. König is someone new to get to know, but he believes that you will grow to love him. The way you react to his touch and melt into him as if you’ve known him from a past life. He knew from the moment your eyes met that this is how it’s supposed to be.

König falls asleep quickly, feeling secure with you in his arms. You on the other hand, don’t. In the distance you can still hear the sounds of the loud celebration. All you can think of is how you’ve been thrust into this new life without warning. What is Callum doing? How are the children?

You shift uncomfortably, unable to sleep. Your breasts are full and the noises around you aren’t helping soothe you. Gently, you nudge König. The giant man is a heavy sleeper so it takes a few shakes before one of his blue eyes open half way. He looks down at you, a small smile creeping across his lips as his vision adjusts on you.

“What is it, Liebling?”

“I- I can’t sleep.”

König props himself up on one elbow, his hair falling in front of his face slightly. “What can I do to help you?” He reaches out and caresses your face while you gaze into his eyes. There is a white milky bead dripping from your nipple, giving him the idea what you might need.

Without a word spoken, König lowers himself to bed so that his face lines up with your breasts. “I’ve got you.” He whispers, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you close to him. His mouth fishes for your leaking nipple, wrapping his lips around and suckling. Your other breast begins to let down, causing milk to drip onto König’s face, but he doesn’t mind. He switches between both nipples to ensure your comfort. His eyes close as his body relaxes.

A small sigh leaves your lips, his arms wrapped around your body along with how he suckles leaves you in a state of deep longing. You slowly comb your fingers through his golden locks, clueing König into the fact you want him. He lets his hand glide along your back down to your ass, squeezing lightly before moving his hand around your hip.

König combs his fingers through your soft hairs until he touches the lips between your legs. Before he even asks you if this is what you want, you spread your legs slightly to allow him entry. His fingers slide down your slick folds until his fingers slip into you.

“König.” His name drips from your lips so gently. You lightly pull on his hair, causing a low groan to rumble from his throat.

“Mhm.” He responds as his fingers lazily move in and out of you while his thumb makes small steady circles on your clit. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you, he’s aware of how sensitive you get, but he does want to make you orgasm so your body can relax for a good sleep.

You hate to admit that in moments like these, your past life seems far from you. You’ve never had someone tend to your every need. No matter how insignificant it may seem, König makes sure you’re comfortable and aware of the love he holds for you. Touching your body is never a chore, rather a privilege.

König feels your walls tighten around his fingers as your sweet arousal begins to drip down his finger. “That’s it, y/n. You’re so divine.” He mumbles with your full breasts still consuming his face. Your sticky milk glazes his pale skin.

Your moans grow steadily, König’s cock twitching as he leads you through your orgasm. His hips thrust forward to rub himself against the soft fat on your thigh, giving him the friction he craves. He pulls back and looks at your face once he feels your body relax and your moans quiet down.

Withdrawing his hand from between your legs, he scoots up to kiss your lush lips. “Is that all you need, Liebling?” His voice is soft laced with the lust he has for you.

“No, I want more of you.” You admit bashfully. König was going to give you every bit of himself.

This small moment in time created a bond within you to König. You started to wake up feeling a little less heavy, able to enjoy the people around you. Thyra took the lead in showing you the ways of a Viking woman and helping you maintain yourself a woman of status. Anywhere König went, you were right under his arm. Your love making could be heard at all hours of the day from the people of the village.

Naturally, all of the sex results in a missed flow cycle. You’ve missed them before so you know what it means. Knowing that König is busy training, you rush to Thyra’s home. Your hands bang on the wooden door of her home. She opens the door with a worried look, Hilda rushing to your side along with her.

“Hva er galt?” The two women ask, their voices overlapping.

With the language barrier, you’ve both been talking with body language. You point to your stomach and hold it. “Baby” you say with tears falling down your eyes. They understood instantly. Thyra went to comfort you as Hilda began to speak little blessing to you and the possible life within.

“Gå og hent ham.” Thyra speaks softly to Hilda as she continues to rock you. She’s aware of the children you left behind. Haven’t lost her only son in battle, she can relate to the feeling of loss that consumes you.

A few moments later König comes into her home. His hair up in a bun while his shirtless body sports new bruises and scrapes. With heavy breaths he rushes to you and scopes you into his large arms.

“Are you pregnant, Meine Liebling?”

“I think so.” Your voice shakes as you nuzzle your head into him and take deep breaths.

“This is good news, y/n.” He sits down with you on his lap, turning your face up to meet his gaze. “It will get easier, I promise.” His lips press against yours, rocking you back and forth to comfort you.

König had at least hoped things would get easier for you. They didn’t. As he had the pleasure to watch your soft body fill out with his child forming within you, he also had the misfortune of having to see your pain. A mother’s sadness, enough to bring a man like König to his knees.

As you sit in a grassy field, König sits beside you, looking at your beautiful face glowing but plagued with a permanent frown. “Do you worry you may not love our child?” He asks in a quiet voice, scared of your answer.

“I already do.” Your voice hoarse from all of your sobbing. “I just can’t help but to feel lost without my other children.”

König studies your face with, taking in how much this distance is taking a toll on you. You’re the love of his life. He never saw himself as a man that would be open to the idea of raising another man’s children, but for you he would give everything to see you smile again.