𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 (𝐓𝐞𝐰𝐤𝐞𝐬𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

𝐅𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧

✿ [Y/N] POV ✿

Tewkesbury and I swam in the river, his hands were on my waist, leading me towards the wall of the waterfall.

    I had tied my hair up with a ribbon so my hair wouldn't get wet, we didn't need anyone asking questions as to why my hair was wet.

    Tewkesbury, my love, had just finished making love to me, I had never felt so cared and loved for in my whole life. It was like he knew how gentle he had to be, how special this moment was for the both of us. And how this moment tied us together forever.

    I only had my underwear on and Tewkesbury only had his undergarments, he brought his hands up to my shoulders and kissed me gently and smoothly, butterflies and love was erupting in my stomach, this day has to have been the most special of all.

            The sounds of the waterfall and river water running was all we heard, the greenery and trees blowing in the wind and Tewksbury arm's protected me from cold by holding me against his chest.

                                 -

We had moved away from the river, settling onto the soft forest floor beside it. A bed of wide, lush leaves cushioned us from the earth. I lay with my head resting on Tewkesbury's chest, my arm wrapped securely around his waist, while his arms held me close—gentle and warm, as if he could shield me from the rest of the world.

I released a dreamy sigh, the peace of the moment washing over me like sunlight. "This has to be the happiest day of my life," I whispered, my words carried by the wind, light as the feeling blooming in my chest.

"That happiness is only beginning," he murmured, voice low and affectionate. "It's going to continue when we run away... very soon." I felt the tender sweep of his hand as he traced lazy circles on my arm, the smile in his voice unmistakable.

Still breathless, I replied softly, "I can't run away just yet."

"My love," he said, a faint note of frustration beneath the dreaminess, "we can't wait much longer. Soon, we may not even have the chance."

"My father's not well," I murmured, my cheek pressing gently against his chest. "He's under so much pressure already. I don't want to add more pain to him."

I tapped my finger lightly on his chin and he looked down at me, our eyes meeting in the quiet shade of the trees. "It won't be necessary. We'll wait for everything to calm down... and then I'll talk to him."

He exhaled a soft breath, somewhere between doubt and longing. "I don't believe it," he said, though his voice still overflowed with love. What we had shared had stirred something deeper in him—something unshakable. I could feel it in the way he held me tighter, as if afraid I might slip away.

"Phillip is back, my flower," he murmured, his tone growing heavier. "The Italian who dares to stake a claim on your heart... when your heart already belongs to someone else." He pressed a kiss to my forehead, tender and full of quiet ache.