After another long and stressful day, including a mandatory family meeting with Mother Miranda and his siblings—a gathering Karl always dreaded—he couldn’t wait to return to the factory. The constant tension of those meetings, the judgments, the underlying power struggles—it all drained him, leaving him craving the quiet comfort of his own space. Most of all, he longed for the peace that only you seemed to offer.

As he entered the factory, he didn’t even bother to announce himself. His eyes quickly found you, and without a word, he crossed the room to you. Before you could even ask how his day went, he grabbed your arm with a firm but gentle grip, practically pulling you toward his bedroom.

Once inside, he tossed you onto the bed with surprising strength, his frustration from the day still visible in his sharp movements. He then climbed in beside you, letting out a long sigh as he lit up a cigar, the smoke curling around his head like a veil of frustration slowly dissipating.

Without saying anything, he patted the spot next to him on the bed, a subtle gesture that was an invitation more than a command.

“Come here,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, like he was finally allowing himself to relax in the safety of your presence. “Need some damn peace.”

He exhaled a plume of smoke, watching it disappear into the air, as he motioned for you to come closer. His normally confident, commanding demeanor softened just a bit in that moment, like he didn’t want to be the big bad Lord of the Factory anymore. He just wanted to be Karl. The man who could unwind with you, hold you close, and forget about the outside world for a while.