#OC Anne

[turtledoggydraws]

Inktober 2022 collection. Theme: My Original characters

Here are 10 of my OC's

[ladybugkisses]

if the terrible boy isn't my F/O then he has to be my F/E (Fictional Enemy), at the very least

[choccy-milky]

seb about to learn every language there is 📚📚

[sleepyrogues]

If they're happy, Spite is happy.

[theonottsbxtch]

FOR YOU, ALWAYS | CL16

an: this was a request! i loved wiritng it and now i love the idea of historical romance prince!charles, thank you for requesting it 💞 also i listened to experience by ludovico einaudi the entire time i wrote this

summary: charles has always hated his life, he thinks, he doesn’t know really. but then he meets someone, she challenges him, she makes him try and all of a sudden he knows what he wants.

wc: 12k

The grand dining hall of the Château de Monte Carlo was bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun filtering through its ornate windows. Prince Charles of Monaco sat at the long mahogany table, his jaw tight as his parents, the Sovereign Prince and Princess, laid out their expectations with the weight of unshakable certainty.

"You must understand, Charles," his mother said, her voice poised yet firm, "a union with Princess Evelyn of England is not merely desirable—it is necessary. The alliance could strengthen our position in ways you cannot yet fully grasp."

His father leaned forward, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the table. "This is not a matter of choice. You are the crown prince. Your duty outweighs any personal hesitation."

Charles’s fingers tightened around the stem of his untouched glass. “And what of my life? Am I to simply be a pawn in your political games?” His voice was calm, but a sharp edge lay beneath the surface.

His mother’s gaze softened slightly, though not enough to dissuade her resolve. “You are the oldest, my son. The weight of the crown has always been yours to bear. This... is part of that burden.”

He didn’t argue further, though every fibre of his being resisted. Instead, he rose, offering a clipped bow. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Moments later, Charles pushed open the heavy doors to his private chambers, stepping into the quiet sanctuary of his room. His temples throbbed with the remnants of the conversation, and he felt the weight of his parents’ expectations settling heavier than the crown he would one day wear.

Inside, the faint rustle of fabric caught his attention. The servant girl—her name unknown to him, as it was meant to be—was smoothing the fresh sheets over his bed. She froze upon seeing him, her hands faltering mid-motion.

“Your Highness,” she said quickly, dipping into a small, practised curtsey. “I didn’t realise you were returning so soon. Shall I leave and return later?”

He waved a hand absently, stepping toward the settee by the window. “No. Stay. Finish your work.”

She hesitated, her eyes flickering to his face, then back to the task at hand. He sank into the settee, his head tilting back against the carved wood as he let out a heavy sigh.

“Do you ever wonder,” he began, his voice soft yet tinged with frustration, “why some of us are given so much freedom, yet chained in ways that others cannot see?”

She paused, her hands gripping the edges of the linen she had just tucked in, unsure if the question was meant for her.

When she did not answer, he looked at her—truly looked at her—for the first time in a long while. Her expression was guarded, her posture poised, as though expecting reproach. “You can speak freely,” he said, a rare hint of gentleness colouring his tone.

Her lips parted slightly, then closed again before she carefully responded, “I think, Your Highness, that even those with freedom often long for something else.”

He smiled faintly, though there was no humour in it. “Something else,” he echoed, the words hanging between them like a challenge to a fate he could not escape.

She quickly turned her attention back to the task at hand, smoothing the sheets in swift, precise movements, as if afraid that lingering would invite trouble. Charles, however, was not done with the conversation.

“And what would you long for?” he asked, his voice quieter now but laced with curiosity. “If you could have… anything?”

Her hands stilled, though she didn’t lift her gaze. “It doesn’t matter, Your Highness. People like me don’t waste time with such thoughts.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

The firmness in his tone made her look up briefly, her eyes meeting his for the first time. They were dark, unyielding, yet not unkind. She hesitated, as though weighing the consequences of speaking too openly.

Finally, she murmured, “I suppose… I’d long for choice. To decide my own path, no matter how humble.”

Charles leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he regarded her with an intensity that made her shift slightly under his gaze. “Choice,” he repeated, almost to himself. “The one thing I’ve never had.”

She blinked at his words, her brow furrowing in confusion. He noticed the look and gave a soft, bitter laugh.

“You think I have everything, don’t you?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at the opulence surrounding them. “All this, and yet I’m to marry a woman I’ve never met. Smile on command. Produce heirs like some stud horse for the dynasty.”

“Your Highness—”

“Spare me,” he interrupted, raising a hand. “I’m aware I sound insufferable. Poor me, the prince in his gilded cage.”

The corners of her mouth twitched, the faintest shadow of a smile threatening to appear, though she suppressed it quickly. “I wouldn’t dare say so, Your Highness.”

“And yet you’re thinking it,” he said, leaning back against the settee, a faint smirk tugging at his lips now. “Go on. You’ve already said more than most would dare. Speak freely.”

She hesitated, then, emboldened by his unusual mood, offered carefully, “I think… it’s easier to envy a cage when it’s lined with silk.”

Charles let out a bark of laughter, surprising them both. For a moment, the tension in the room seemed to dissipate, replaced by something lighter.

“Touché,” he said, shaking his head. “Perhaps I deserve that.”

She resumed her work in silence, and he watched her, his mind turning over her words. There was a simplicity in her presence, a quiet sense of purpose that felt like a reprieve from the endless demands of court life.

As she moved to leave, her task completed, she paused by the door. “Your Highness,” she said, her voice tentative.

He glanced up, his expression expectant.

“Sometimes… cages are only as strong as we believe them to be.”

Before he could respond, she slipped out, leaving him alone with his thoughts—and the echo of her words, which refused to leave him in peace.

The words haunted Charles for days. Cages are only as strong as we believe them to be. They played on a loop in his mind, following him from morning meetings with ministers to the hollow dinners with his parents, where talk of his engagement to Princess Evelyn consumed every conversation.

By the third day, he relented. Not to the sentiment behind her words, but to the reality of his life. Duty, it seemed, would always triumph over desire. He formally agreed to the arrangement in a cold meeting with his father, his voice devoid of emotion as he signed the papers that would announce his betrothal to the world.

That evening, restless and seeking solace, he ventured into the royal gardens. The roses were in full bloom, their scent heavy in the warm air, yet they brought him no comfort. The paths, so meticulously maintained, felt as constricting as the marble walls of the palace.

The crisp evening air offered a solace the grand halls could not. He strolled along the manicured paths, his mind still heavy with the decision he had made, when movement near the servant’s entrance caught his eye.

It was her.

She was dressed simply, carrying a basket as she slipped through the narrow door at the edge of the palace walls. For a moment, he simply watched her, a sudden curiosity flaring to life. Then, before reason could temper him, he followed.

She moved with purpose, her steps quick as she crossed the gravel path leading to the servants’ gate. Charles kept his distance, careful to stay within the shadows. The sound of the gate creaking open carried through the still night, and he quickened his pace.

“Wait,” he called softly as the gate began to swing shut behind her.

She spun, startled, her hand flying to her chest when she saw him. “Your Highness!” she whispered, her tone panicked. She glanced around quickly, as though expecting someone to appear from the darkness. “What are you doing out here?”

“I saw you,” he said simply, his voice low, “and I followed.”

Her expression shifted from shock to alarm. “You shouldn’t have. If anyone sees you out here with me—”

“They won’t,” he said firmly, stepping closer.

“But if they do…” Her voice dropped further, almost a plea. “I’ll be dismissed—worse. Do you know what they’d do to me for leaving the palace grounds with the prince?”

He stared at her, and for the first time in days, he felt a flicker of something other than despair. “Please,” he said, the word escaping him softly but with undeniable weight.

Her eyes widened at his uncharacteristic vulnerability. She shook her head, taking a step back. “No. I can’t. I won’t.”

“I’m not ordering you,” he said quickly. “I’m asking.”

For a moment, she stood frozen, her mind clearly racing. Then, with a frustrated sigh, she pulled the cloak from her shoulders and thrust it toward him.

“Fine,” she said, her tone sharp but her movements careful as she draped it around him. “If anyone asks, you’re my cousin visiting from the countryside. Keep your head down and your mouth shut.”

Charles nodded, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Understood.”

She turned and began walking quickly down the narrow dirt path beyond the gate. He followed, cloaked in her simple, worn garment, the scent of lavender lingering faintly in the fabric.

They walked in silence for what felt like an eternity before the lights of a small village came into view. She turned onto a side lane, leading him to a tiny house at the edge of town, its thatched roof weathered but charming.

“This is it,” she said, her voice clipped as she gestured to the modest dwelling.

He stared at the house, a stark contrast to the palace he called home. “You live here?”

“Yes,” she said, clearly defensive. “It’s small, but it’s mine. No one tells me what to do when I’m here.”

He didn’t respond, too busy taking in the details: the flower boxes beneath the windows, the faint glow of a single candle in the window.

“Now you’ve seen it,” she said, her tone impatient. “You should go back before someone notices you’re missing.”

But Charles shook his head. “No,” he said softly, his eyes still fixed on the little house. “Not yet.”

Her brow furrowed as she crossed her arms. “You shouldn’t have come in the first place.”

“Perhaps not,” he admitted, finally looking at her. “But now that I’m here… I can’t imagine wanting to leave.”

She stared at him, her expression unreadable. The quiet stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Finally, she sighed again, softer this time.

“Fine,” she said, stepping toward the door. “But if anyone asks, I don’t know why you’re here, and I definitely didn’t bring you.”

She pushed the door open, stepping inside with a cautious glance behind her. Charles followed, ducking slightly to avoid the low wooden beam over the doorway. Before she could say a word, a voice called from inside.

“Back already? I thought you—”

The voice cut off as a man, younger than Charles but older than the servant girl, appeared from the far corner of the small room. He froze, his sharp blue eyes flicking between her and the prince. “What in God’s name…”

“Damn it!” she hissed, pressing a hand to her forehead. “I thought you were working the late shift at the docks tonight!”

“I was,” her brother said, stepping forward and squaring his shoulders. His rough shirt and patched trousers bore the telltale marks of dock work—salt stains and grime clung to the fabric. “But the shipment was cancelled. Now you tell me why the bloody prince of Monaco is in our house. Did you kidnap him?”

“Kidnap him?” she snapped, throwing her hands in the air. “Don’t be ridiculous. He followed me!”

Charles, for his part, seemed utterly unconcerned by the commotion. His gaze wandered over the small room with childlike fascination, taking in the chipped table, the cracked ceramic plates stacked neatly in the corner, and the patchwork curtain separating the single sleeping area. He paused to admire a string of dried herbs hanging near the hearth, as though he’d never seen anything so fascinating.

“Your Highness,” the brother said, stepping in front of him with an awkward, hesitant bow. “I mean no disrespect, but do you… do you need me to call someone? Or are you in danger?” He looked over his shoulder at his sister. “Are we in danger?”

“No one is in danger,” Charles replied, his voice calm. He turned to her brother with a polite nod. “Thank you for your concern. I’m here of my own accord.”

The girl pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering under her breath. Meanwhile, Charles’ eyes landed on a wooden crate near the wall, and before either sibling could stop him, he lowered himself onto it. The crate creaked but held, and he leaned back with a sigh, a serene smile spreading across his face.

The girl spun on him, her exasperation bubbling over. “What are you smiling about?”

He looked up at her, his expression earnest, almost boyish. “It’s beautiful.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Here,” he said, gesturing around the room. “It’s so cosy. Everything has its place. It’s warm, lived-in… peaceful.”

Her brother raised an eyebrow, clearly sceptical. “You call this beautiful? Your palace is five hundred times the size, and you think this is—”

“I know what my palace is,” Charles interrupted, though his tone held no irritation. “Cold. Grand. Silent. This… this feels alive.”

She crossed her arms, her brow furrowing as she stared at him. For a moment, she didn’t know whether to laugh or scold him. “It’s a shack,” she said finally, her voice softer but still tinged with disbelief.

“Maybe,” he said, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. “But it’s your shack. And it’s more honest than anything I’ve ever known.”

Her brother exchanged a glance with her, his expression suggesting that he thought the prince might have lost his mind. She only shook her head, sighing heavily as she walked to the table and placed her basket down.

“This is a mistake,” she muttered to herself.

“Perhaps,” Charles said, still smiling, “but it’s the best mistake I’ve made in a long time.”

She busied herself unpacking the basket, placing a few withered carrots, a handful of potatoes, and some crusty bread onto the table. Her brother leaned against the wall, arms crossed, still watching Charles with wary eyes.

“If you’re staying, Your Highness,” she said, her tone clipped as she focused on the food, “I hope you don’t mind scraps.” She hesitated, then glanced at him. “And you can’t tell anyone at the palace that I take the extras. They’d—”

“Dismiss you,” Charles finished, his voice soft. “I won’t tell. You have my word.”

She gave a small nod, her shoulders relaxing slightly, and began peeling the potatoes. Her hands moved deftly, her brother stepping in to fetch water from the small barrel near the door. Charles sat quietly on his makeshift chair, watching the two of them work in a rhythm.

“Do you need help?” he asked after a moment.

Her brother let out a short laugh, but she only shook her head without looking up. “No, Your Highness, but thank you for the offer. I imagine peeling potatoes is beneath you.”

“Not everything is beneath me,” he replied, and while his voice was carrying a hint of dry humour, there was some seriousness to it.

She didn’t respond, but a faint smile tugged at her lips as she chopped the vegetables and tossed them into a battered pot over the small fire. Soon, the room filled with the simple, comforting aroma of soup.

When the meal was ready, she placed three mismatched bowls on the table and ladled out the steaming broth. She set one in front of Charles without ceremony, then handed one to her brother before sitting down herself.

Charles took a tentative sip, and his eyes widened slightly. “This is excellent.”

Her brother snorted. “It’s boiled scraps, mate. You must really have it rough if you think this is fine dining.”

“Max,” she warned, shooting her brother a glare.

Charles chuckled, dipping a chunk of the crusty bread into the soup. “Maybe it’s not fine dining,” he admitted, “but it tastes real. Honest.”

Her brother rolled his eyes but said nothing more, focusing on his meal. The three of them ate in relative silence, the tension in the room easing slightly as the warmth of the food spread through them.

When the bowls were empty, she cleared the table, stacking the dishes neatly on a small shelf. Charles leaned back, his contented smile returning as he watched her move about the room.

“You should go,” she said finally, her voice breaking the quiet. She didn’t turn to face him.

His smile faltered. “I don’t want to.”

Her hands paused for a moment before she resumed tidying the table. “You’ve seen what you wanted to see. This is my life. And you… you have your own life waiting for you back there.”

Charles stood slowly, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeves. “I suppose you’re right,” he said softly.

She walked toward the door, not meeting his eyes as she grabbed her cloak and gestured for him to follow. Her brother gave Charles a long, unreadable look as he rose to leave, but he said nothing, only shaking his head as the prince ducked back out into the cool night air.

They walked in silence down the dirt path, the lights of the palace glowing faintly in the distance. When they reached the servants’ gate, she stopped and turned to him, keeping her eyes on the ground.

“This is where we part ways,” she said firmly.

He took a step closer, and when she looked up, she saw something in his expression—gratitude, yes, but something deeper, too. Without a word, he reached for her hand, his touch gentle. He held it for a moment, his thumb brushing lightly over her calloused fingers.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice low and filled with sincerity. “For the soup. For everything.”

Before she could respond, he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. The gesture was brief, but it sent a wave of warmth up her arm, leaving her stunned.

He stepped back, releasing her hand, and gave her one last look before slipping through the gate and disappearing into the shadows.

She stood there for a long time, staring at the empty path, her heart racing for reasons she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—name.

The next few days at the palace dragged on in a monotonous blur for Charles. His mornings were filled with tiresome meetings about the engagement, his afternoons with rigid etiquette lessons to prepare for public appearances with Princess Evelyn. Every second felt like a tightening noose around his neck.

Finally, the day came for him to meet her. Princess Evelyn of England arrived with her entourage in an ornate carriage, her entrance every bit as grand as expected. She was perfectly polite, perfectly poised—and, to Charles, perfectly insipid.

They sat across from each other in one of the palace’s many drawing rooms, chaperoned by a small battalion of attendants and his ever-watchful parents. She spoke at length about her family lineage, her charity work, and her plans to modernise court life, but her words washed over him like a stream of lukewarm water.

When it was his turn to speak, he managed only the barest pleasantries. He was certain she noticed his lack of enthusiasm, but if it bothered her, she gave no indication.

By the end of the meeting, he felt more drained than he had in years. As she curtsied and left the room, he caught his mother’s pointed glare, but he ignored it.

Before she could say anything to him, he glanced at the ornate clock on his wall. It was nearly the same time as the day she would be fluffing the pillows on his settee. A peculiar sense of anticipation stirred in his chest.

Without a second thought, he made his way to his bedroom. As he opened the door, his eyes immediately fell on her.

She was there, as if summoned by some unspoken wish. She was standing by the settee, her back to him as she carefully fluffed the pillows. Her movements were deliberate, methodical, and entirely unlike the flurry of maids bustling about elsewhere in the palace.

A slow smile spread across his face.

“Perfect timing,” he said loudly, causing her to jump slightly.

She turned, clutching the pillow to her chest. “Your Highness!” she said, startled. “I— I can come back later if—”

“Don’t bother,” he interrupted dramatically, throwing himself onto the bed with a theatrical sigh.

She froze, unsure whether to be amused or annoyed, as he sprawled across the silk covers, one arm flung over his face.

“Let me tell you about the most dreadful afternoon of my life,” he groaned.

Her brow furrowed as she set the pillow back in place. “The dreadful afternoon where you met the woman you’re going to marry?”

“Precisely,” he said, sitting up slightly to gesture at her. “You understand my plight already.”

“I understand you’re being ridiculous,” she replied, smoothing the cushions on the settee.

“Ridiculous?!” he exclaimed, placing a hand over his heart. “Do you know what she said when I asked her about her favourite pastime?”

“I don’t,” she said flatly, clearly trying to stay focused on her task.

“She said,” he continued, his voice dripping with mock enthusiasm, “Oh, I do adore embroidery. There’s something so meditative about it.”

She stared at him. “That… doesn’t sound terrible.”

He sat up fully now, gesturing emphatically. “Doesn’t sound terrible? It’s horrific! What am I to do with someone who finds stitching flowers onto fabric the height of excitement?”

“You could try embroidery yourself,” she suggested dryly, unable to resist a small smirk.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Very funny. No, what I need is someone who… who challenges me. Someone with fire.”

She arched an eyebrow but said nothing, turning back to the pillows.

“Instead,” he muttered, flopping back onto the bed, “I’m shackled to a walking lesson in decorum.”

The room fell silent for a moment, save for the soft rustle of fabric as she adjusted the settee. Finally, she turned to face him fully, her expression unreadable.

“Maybe,” she said carefully, “you should spend less time thinking about what you don’t like about her and more time figuring out what you’re looking for.”

Charles opened one eye to glance at her. “And if what I’m looking for isn’t an option?”

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, something unspoken passing between them. Then, she shook her head and turned back to her work.

“Then you make do,” she said simply.

He watched her for a long moment, his chest tightening inexplicably.

“Is that what you do?” he asked softly.

She paused but didn’t turn around. “Every day, Your Highness.”

Without another word, she grabbed her items and walked out, softly closing the door behind her.

Charles had barely settled back on the bed, still pondering her cryptic answer, when the door to his chambers burst open.

His younger brother, Arthur, strode in, his golden hair slightly dishevelled and a boyish grin plastered across his face. “Charles! I just saw her—the princess of England. She’s… stunning. Gorgeous. A masterpiece, really. You lucky bastard.”

Charles groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Arthur, must you always barge in uninvited?”

Arthur ignored him, plopping himself unceremoniously into one of the velvet chairs near the fireplace. “I mean it. If I were you, I’d have proposed on the spot. Did you see her eyes? Like polished emeralds.”

“She’s… fine,” Charles muttered, his tone flat.

“Fine?” Arthur’s voice rose in mock indignation. “Brother, I’d trade places with you in an instant.” He leaned forward, his grin widening. “What is it? Not enough excitement for you? Too… proper?”

Charles sat up, his expression exasperated. “If you find her so attractive, Arthur, marry her yourself.”

Arthur laughed, clearly amused by the suggestion. “Oh, if only it worked that way. But alas, you are the crown prince. The heir. The one who gets the girl and the throne, while I’m left to look charming at parties.”

Charles shook his head, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He couldn’t help but wonder how different his life might be if the roles were reversed. Could Arthur really be happy living a life of obligation, of gilded cages and loveless arrangements?

His thoughts drifted, unbidden, back to the servant girl. Her small house, her laughter with her brother over bowls of soup, the way she moved through life with an independence he’d never known.

“What would it be like,” he murmured, almost to himself, “to marry someone who isn’t royalty? Someone who isn’t bound by these ridiculous rules?”

Arthur blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard. Then he laughed, loud and incredulous. “Are you out of your mind?”

Charles turned his head sharply, fixing his brother with a challenging look. “I’m serious. What would it be like to marry a commoner? To live a life free of all this… pomp and pretence?”

Arthur’s laughter faded, replaced by a look of disbelief. “You are mad. Do you have any idea what that would mean? The scandal? The uproar? Father would have a fit. Mother would faint on the spot. And the people? They’d riot.”

“Would they?” Charles asked, his tone calm but insistent. “Or would they understand? Would they respect a prince who chose love over duty?”

Arthur shook his head, a faint sneer creeping into his expression. “You don’t know what you’re saying. A prince doesn’t marry a milkmaid or a seamstress. It’s not a fairytale, Charles. We’re not… like them.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and sharp.

“Not like them,” Charles repeated softly, his voice carrying a hint of disdain. “And what exactly does that mean?”

Arthur hesitated, then shrugged, as if the answer were obvious. “It means we have a responsibility. A legacy to uphold. Marrying into royalty isn’t just tradition—it’s survival. You think Father and Mother arranged your engagement for fun?”

Charles didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back against the headboard, his mind churning. Arthur’s words grated against something deep within him, something that longed to push back against the boundaries of their carefully constructed world.

“Maybe,” he said finally, his voice low, “the legacy isn’t worth the cost.”

Arthur stared at him, his disbelief giving way to concern. “Charles… you’ve been spending too much time alone. Or worse—reading poetry again. Get your head out of the clouds, brother. This is your life. Learn to accept it.”

With that, Arthur rose, clapping Charles on the shoulder before striding toward the door. “And if you won’t,” he added with a grin, “I’ll gladly keep the princess company. You’re a fool not to appreciate her.”

The door closed behind him, leaving Charles alone in the echoing silence of his chambers.

But his mind wasn’t silent.

It churned, restless and defiant, filled with images of a life he might never know.

The chill of the autumn night bit at Charles’s skin as he hurried along the winding path toward the small house. A week had passed, and though he told himself repeatedly that it was improper—foolish, even—he couldn’t shake the gnawing thought of her.

He hadn’t seen her since their last conversation in his chambers. Every day without her had stretched longer than the last. No wry comments while she smoothed the wrinkles from his sheets, no gentle jabs at his dramatics.

The house appeared before him, small and humble against the starlit sky. Light peeked through the cracks in the shutters.

He hesitated, his heart pounding. Then, before he could talk himself out of it, he knocked.

The door opened a crack, her face appearing in the dim light. The moment she recognised him, her eyes widened in alarm, and she yanked him inside, shutting the door firmly behind him.

“Your Highness!” she whispered fiercely, pressing her back against the door as though to block the outside world. “Are you out of your mind? I’ll be hung if they find you at my door!”

He tried to smile, though he knew she was right. “I haven’t seen you all week.”

Her expression turned exasperated. “That’s not a valid reason to sneak out of the palace, Prince Charles.”

“Isn’t it?” he countered lightly, though the heat rising in his cheeks betrayed the truth of how much he’d missed her.

Her sigh was heavy with frustration, but something softened in her gaze. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said again, though her voice lacked its earlier sharpness. She moved away from the door, adjusting the shawl around her shoulders.

It was then that he noticed the redness around her nose, the slight rasp in her voice.

“You’ve been ill,” he said, stepping closer.

“It’s nothing,” she replied, waving him off as she moved toward the small kitchen space. “A cold. Happens every year when the weather turns. I’ll survive.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” he said quietly, glancing around the room.

“Life doesn’t wait for the sniffles,” she said with a faint smirk, though her movements were slower than usual as she reached for a bowl.

“Then let me help,” he said, surprising both of them.

She turned, raising an eyebrow. “You? Help? What do you know about cooking?”

“Absolutely nothing,” he admitted, grinning. “But I’m an excellent student.”

She stared at him for a moment, as though deciding whether to humour him. Finally, she handed him a knife and motioned toward a small pile of vegetables. “Fine. Peel those. Try not to cut yourself.”

He took the knife gingerly, studying the carrot as if it were a puzzle. She chuckled softly, the sound warming the small space, and stepped beside him to show him the proper angle for peeling.

The next hour passed in a flurry of quiet laughter and careful instructions. He fumbled with the knife, his first attempts earning teasing remarks from her, but he improved quickly under her guidance. Together, they chopped, stirred, and seasoned until the small pot on the stove began to bubble with a fragrant stew.

As they worked, the conversation drifted.

“You’re better at this than I expected,” she said, handing him a spoon to stir.

He smiled. “Careful. If you keep complimenting me, I might come back for more lessons.”

She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “Cooking isn’t glamorous work, Your Highness. It’s just… survival.”

“Maybe,” he said, his tone thoughtful, “but there’s something… grounding about it. It feels real.”

She looked at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “You really hate that palace life, don’t you?”

He didn’t answer right away, instead focusing on the steady motion of the spoon in the pot. “I don’t hate it,” he said eventually. “It’s just… hollow. Every decision is made for me. Every word is calculated. I don’t know who I’m supposed to be in all of it.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze distant. “You’re lucky, though,” she said softly. “Even if it’s hollow, you have a place. A name. People like me… we’re just the shadows keeping the fire alive.”

He stopped stirring, her words settling heavily in the space between them. “I don’t think that’s true,” he said after a moment.

She tilted her head, her expression sceptical. “No?”

“No,” he said firmly. “You’re more than that. You’re clever. Strong. Independent. You see things I never could.”

She blinked, taken aback by the conviction in his voice.

“That’s what I like about you,” he added softly, almost without thinking.

The words hung in the air, and he froze, realising too late what he’d said.

Her cheeks flushed a deep pink, and she turned away quickly, pretending to adjust the pot on the stove.

His own face burned as he fumbled for something to say, but nothing came. The silence stretched on, heavy and charged, until she finally spoke, her voice quieter than before.

“You should taste the stew,” she said, not looking at him.

He stepped forward, dipping the spoon into the pot and taking a tentative sip.

“It’s perfect,” he said, his voice softer now.

Her lips curved into the faintest smile, though she still didn’t meet his gaze.

The evening deepened, the chill of the autumn air seeping through the thin walls of the small house. Charles noticed her slight shiver as she ladled the stew into two mismatched bowls, the threadbare shawl around her shoulders doing little to shield her from the cold.

He stood abruptly, unfastening the clasp of his heavy cloak. She turned to look at him, startled, as he stepped behind her and draped it gently over her shoulders.

“What are you doing?” she asked, pulling the thick fabric around herself instinctively.

“You’re cold,” he said simply, sitting back down and picking up his bowl.

She hesitated, looking at him with a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. “But you’ll freeze without it.”

“I’ll be fine,” he replied with a small smile. “I’ve survived colder nights, army and all of that.”

The warmth of the cloak seemed to envelop her, and she relaxed slightly, sitting down across from him. For a moment, they ate in silence, the quiet clinking of their spoons the only sound.

When their bowls were empty, Charles glanced around the modest room, noticing for the first time the lack of a hearthfire.

“Do you light a fire at night?” he asked, though he already suspected the answer.

She shook her head. “Can’t afford firewood,” she said matter-of-factly, collecting their bowls. “It’s not so bad. We manage.”

“Oh,” was all he managed to say, though the thought of her and her brother enduring nights in such cold unsettled him deeply.

She didn’t seem to notice his reaction, busying herself with tidying up.

Later, as he prepared to leave, she hesitated by the door, holding his cloak out to him.

“Take this back,” she said softly.

He pushed her hand gently back toward her. “Keep it,” he insisted. “For tonight.”

She opened her mouth to argue but stopped, the words faltering. Finally, she nodded, her fingers tightening around the fabric.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

He smiled at her one last time before stepping out into the night, the chill biting at him instantly as he made his way back to the palace.

She played with the royal clasp of his cloak as he left and wondered what her life would be like if she wasn’t just a servant and he wasn’t the Crown Prince of Monaco.

No less than a few days later, her brother barged into the small house, his footsteps heavy against the creaking floorboards.

“Why,” he began, his voice loud and incredulous, “is there months’ worth of firewood outside the house?”

She looked up from where she was patching a worn-out scarf, distracted. “What are you talking about?”

“The firewood,” he repeated, gesturing wildly toward the door. “There’s a mountain of it, just sitting there! Did you rob a lumberyard?”

She frowned, setting down her work and walking to the door. When she stepped outside, her eyes widened at the sight of the neatly stacked pile of firewood by the side of the house.

“I… I don’t know,” she stammered, completely bewildered.

It was then that she noticed a small slip of paper tucked into the top of the stack. Pulling it free, she unfolded it to reveal a note written in a familiar, elegant hand.

Keep warm – C

Her cheeks flushed, and a small smile tugged at her lips despite herself.

Her brother leaned over her shoulder, reading the note. “C?” he asked suspiciously. “Who’s C?”

She folded the note quickly, tucking it into her apron pocket. “No one,” she said, avoiding his gaze.

Her brother narrowed his eyes but didn’t press further, shaking his head as he muttered something about princes and their peculiarities.

She was fluffing the pillows on the freshly made bed when the door to the prince’s chambers swung open. Charles strode in, his expression lighting up the moment he saw her. Without hesitation, he leapt onto the bed, landing with a dramatic bounce that sent a pillow tumbling to the floor.

“You’re back!” he exclaimed, grinning. “And you’re better!”

“And you just ruined the bed I made.” she chided but then moved on to adjusting a vase on the side table. “Well I must say, a lit fire at night changes a whole lot.”

He froze for a fraction of a second, then sat up, feigning ignorance with an exaggerated shrug. “Oh? A fire, you say? That’s… good to hear. Fires are quite helpful, I’m told.”

Her smirk widened. “I’m sure someone told you that.”

“Perhaps,” he said, swinging his legs off the bed and leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “But we’re not here to discuss firewood logistics, are we?”

She rolled her eyes, walking around the room to dust the mantel. “Then what would you like to discuss, Your Highness?”

He sighed heavily, flopping back onto the bed and throwing an arm over his face. “The princess of England.”

She raised an eyebrow, glancing over at him. “Oh?”

“I have to meet her again,” he groaned. “Another tea, another tedious conversation about fabrics or her needlework or some other mind-numbing topic. I swear, I’d rather duel blindfolded than sit through it.”

She snorted, biting back a laugh. “Blindfolded? That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

“No,” he said, peeking at her from under his arm. “It’s perfectly reasonable.”

“Of course it is,” she said, her tone dripping with mock sincerity. “Because what’s more reasonable than a prince skewering himself just to avoid small talk?”

He sat up, clutching his chest theatrically. “You wound me, madam. Truly, your lack of sympathy is cruel.”

She gave him a sidelong glance, shaking her head as she set the duster aside. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” he replied, grinning.

She turned back to the mantel, but when the silence stretched, she glanced over her shoulder. He was watching her, his expression soft, his eyes warm and intent.

Her brow furrowed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He blinked, snapping out of his reverie, and quickly looked away, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t looking at you.”

“You absolutely were,” she said, crossing her arms and giving him a suspicious look.

“No, I was… thinking,” he said, his voice a touch too casual.

She arched an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Thinking about what?”

“About…” He scrambled for an answer, then pointed toward the bed. “About how well you made this bed. Truly impressive. Best I’ve ever seen.”

She rolled her eyes again, but a faint blush crept into her cheeks. “Right,” she said, picking up her duster. “Well, I’ll leave you to your very important thinking, then.”

He watched her go, his chest tightening as the door clicked softly shut behind her.

Over the next few days, Charles found himself increasingly distracted. Whether strolling through the palace gardens or enduring another tiresome tea with the princess, his thoughts invariably drifted to her. The way her wit kept him on his toes. The quiet determination in her movements. The occasional flicker of softness beneath her sharp remarks.

It was maddening.

When he was near her, he found excuses to linger. When she wasn’t around, he searched for her without realising it. And as much as he tried to push the growing ache in his chest aside, he couldn’t deny what was happening.

He’d fallen for her.

It was late afternoon when he returned to his chambers after a gruelling diplomatic meeting. To his delight, she was there, dusting the intricate carvings on the wooden frame of his bed. She didn’t notice him enter, humming softly to herself as she worked.

He leaned casually against the doorframe, watching her for a moment before clearing his throat.

She jumped, spinning around to face him, clutching her duster like a weapon. “Do you have to sneak up on me?”

“It’s my room,” he said, smirking. “I can hardly sneak into my own space.”

She scowled, turning back to her work. “You’re insufferable.”

“So you’ve said,” he replied, stepping further into the room. “But you keep coming back. Perhaps I’m growing on you.”

“I come back because it’s my job,” she retorted, moving to dust a nearby shelf.

He followed her, leaning lazily against the furniture. “A job you seem to excel at. Though I wonder… do you enjoy tormenting me as much as I enjoy tormenting you?”

She shot him a sharp glance, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “Someone has to keep your ego in check, Your Highness.”

He chuckled, reaching out to pluck the duster from her hand. “You do it so well,” he murmured, his voice low.

Her breath hitched slightly as he leaned closer, her eyes darting to his before flicking away. “You should stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” he asked, his voice soft and teasing as he leaned closer still, his face mere inches from hers.

“Whatever it is you’re doing,” she said, stepping back slightly, only to find herself against the edge of the shelf.

The tension in the air was palpable, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. His gaze was locked on hers, and for a moment, the world outside the room seemed to vanish.

A sharp knock on the door shattered the moment.

“Charles?” his brother’s voice called from the hallway.

Panic flared in her eyes, and Charles acted on instinct, grabbing her wrist and pulling her toward the large wardrobe at the side of the room.

“What are you—” she began, but he pressed a finger to her lips as he opened the wardrobe door and ushered her inside.

The space was small, barely enough for the two of them. She pressed herself against the back wall as he stepped in, closing the door behind them.

The darkness was absolute, and the only sound was the quiet shuffle of their breaths.

“Stay quiet,” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear.

A beat passed, and she whispered back, her voice laced with frustration, “If we get caught, it’ll be my neck, not yours.”

“No one’s getting caught,” he murmured, his voice low and steady.

In the confined space, his hand brushed against hers, and he froze. Slowly, almost hesitantly, his fingers moved to her face. His touch was light, tentative, as though he feared she might vanish at any moment.

His thumb traced the curve of her cheek, brushing against her skin with agonising slowness. Her breath hitched, and in the silence, it felt deafening.

“Why are you…” she began, but her voice faltered as his fingers brushed the line of her jaw, lingering there for a moment before sliding to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“You’re trembling,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“You’re too close,” she replied, though her tone lacked conviction.

The faintest smile curved his lips, though she couldn’t see it in the dark. “You’re not stopping me,” he said softly.

Before she could respond, his brother’s voice echoed from the other side of the room. “Charles, where are you?”

He leaned closer, his forehead nearly brushing hers. “Stay still,” he murmured, his hand still cradling her cheek.

She closed her eyes, the tension in the small space suffocating and electric all at once.

Footsteps receded as his brother left the room, grumbling something about missing him.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then, Charles let out a slow breath, his hand dropping from her face. He opened the wardrobe door slightly, letting in the dim light of the room.

“Safe,” he said quietly, stepping back to let her out.

She stepped past him, her cheeks flushed and her breaths uneven. “You’re reckless,” she muttered, avoiding his gaze as she hurried to gather her duster.

He smirked, leaning against the wardrobe door. “And you’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

She shot him a glare over her shoulder, but the pink in her cheeks betrayed her.

“Get back to work, Your Highness,” she said, her tone sharp but her voice unsteady.

He chuckled softly, watching her go.

The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the tall windows of Charles’s chambers, painting golden streaks across the plush rug. She was there again, this time at his desk, meticulously polishing the brass handles of the drawers. She worked with the same quiet efficiency she always did, her movements steady, purposeful.

Charles, reclining lazily on the settee, had been pretending to read a book for the past ten minutes. In truth, he’d barely turned a page. His attention was drawn, as it so often was these days, to her.

He cleared his throat, drawing her attention. “Have you ever taken a moment to rest?”

She glanced at him briefly before returning to her task. “I rest when my work is done.”

“And when is it done?” he pressed, setting the book down and rising to his feet.

She didn’t answer immediately, her focus still on the brass handle in her hand. “When your chambers sparkle, Your Highness.”

He chuckled, stepping closer. “It already sparkles. You’ve polished this desk so many times I can see my reflection.”

She huffed softly, clearly unimpressed. “There’s still dust.”

He reached out, his hand gently brushing hers as she gripped the cloth. She stilled, her breath catching as his fingers lingered over hers.

“You’re relentless,” he murmured, his voice low.

Her eyes flicked to his, wide and uncertain. “And you’re in my way.”

He smiled, his expression teasing but his gaze intent. “I’m rarely in anyone’s way. It’s a novelty.”

She tried to step back, but he moved with her, closing the distance between them. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Observing,” he said, his voice soft, warm, as if he were sharing a secret. “You’re endlessly fascinating to watch, you know.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away, but he reached out, gently tilting her chin so she’d meet his eyes again.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” she said, her voice shaky.

“Why not?”

“Because…” She faltered, her lips parting as she searched for words. “Because you shouldn’t.”

He leaned in slightly, his hand still holding her chin. The air between them was heavy, charged with something neither of them dared name.

“You’re trembling again,” he said softly, the corner of his mouth lifting in the faintest of smiles.

“I’m not,” she said quickly, but her voice betrayed her.

“You are,” he whispered, his thumb brushing her jaw in the lightest of touches.

Her breath hitched, and her hands tightened around the cloth she still held. “This is dangerous,” she managed, though her tone was weak.

“For you?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “Or for me?”

She couldn’t answer, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain he could hear it.

His hand moved, the backs of his fingers tracing the curve of her cheek, then down to her neck, where his thumb rested lightly against her pulse. He felt it hammering beneath his touch and smiled softly, almost as if he were marvelling at it.

“You feel it too,” he said, his voice low and intimate, as if the world beyond this moment didn’t exist.

She swallowed hard, her hands trembling as she finally pushed lightly at his chest. “You… need to stop.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, his gaze locked on hers. Then, slowly, he stepped back, though the tension in the air lingered like a storm about to break.

She turned away quickly, grabbing her cloth and pretending to busy herself with the desk again, though her hands shook so much she nearly dropped it.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, the sincerity in his voice stopping her in her tracks.

She didn’t turn back to him, but she nodded slightly, her voice quiet. “Don’t do it again.”

But neither of them believed that.

That night the crackle of the fire in the grand drawing room filled the silence as Charles poured himself another glass of brandy. His younger brother lounged in the chair across from him, a glass already in hand.

“You’ve been distracted lately,” Arthur said, swirling his drink. “Even more so than usual.”

Charles leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking beneath him. “Have I?”

Arthur arched an eyebrow. “You spent half of tea with the English delegation yesterday staring at the window. I’m pretty sure they could have declared war, and you wouldn’t have noticed.”

Charles chuckled, though it lacked his usual mirth. He stared into his glass, the amber liquid catching the firelight.

“Arthur,” he began, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

His brother tilted his head, curious. “What?”

“What would you think of… being the next heir to the throne?”

Arthur blinked, then laughed, loud and incredulous. “What, you’re not planning on dying anytime soon, are you?”

“No,” Charles said, shaking his head, his lips twitching into a faint smile.

Arthur leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “Then why would you ask that?”

Charles swirled his drink, his gaze distant. “Just… wondering.”

Arthur snorted, leaning back again. “Abdicating is social suicide. If you’re even entertaining the thought, I’d advise you to stop immediately.”

Charles stayed silent, his thumb brushing idly along the rim of his glass.

The quiet stretched, and Arthur froze mid-drink, lowering his glass to the table with a sharp clink. His eyes widened, and his voice dropped. “You’re not thinking of abdicating… are you?”

Charles didn’t respond right away, his jaw tightening as he stared into the fire.

“Cha,” Arthur pressed, his voice rising slightly. “What the hell is going on with you? Who’s put this absurd idea in your head?”

Charles glanced at him, his expression inscrutable. “It’s not absurd.”

“It is when you’re the crown prince of Monaco,” Arthur snapped, sitting up straighter. “You’d give up everything—power, privilege, our family’s legacy—for what? A whim? A fleeting fancy?”

“It’s not a fancy,” Charles said sharply, his voice cutting through the room.

Arthur blinked, taken aback by his brother’s rare flash of anger. “Then what is it?”

Charles leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and staring hard at his brother. “What if I told you it’s something real? That I’ve found something—someone—who makes me feel more alive than anything this throne ever could?”

Arthur’s jaw dropped slightly, his expression caught between shock and disbelief. “You’re serious.”

“Deadly serious,” Charles said, his tone firm.

Arthur exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t just about a servant, is it?”

Charles’s head shot up, his eyes narrowing. “How—”

“Please,” Arthur said, waving a hand. “You think I haven’t noticed? The way you’ve been sneaking out, the looks you give when you think no one’s watching? The firewood? You’re an open book.”

Charles leaned back, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “I underestimated you.”

“And you’re underestimating the chaos you’d cause,” Arthur shot back. “Do you have any idea what this would mean for the family? For Monaco?”

Charles’s expression hardened. “For once, I’m thinking about what it would mean for me.”

Arthur stared at him, the firelight casting shadows across his face. “You’d walk away from all of this?”

“If it meant being with her?” Charles said, his voice soft but resolute. “Yes. I would.”

The weight of his words settled over them, and for once, Arthur didn’t have a quick retort.

The next few days were torturous for Charles. Each moment stretched longer than the last, his thoughts dominated by her. Every step he took through the palace halls felt meaningless without catching sight of her—her quick smile, her quiet resolve, the way she challenged him without fear.

He thought of her words, her laughter, the way her cheeks flushed when he teased her. More than that, he thought of the way she made him feel—seen, understood, even cherished in a way that no title or crown could replicate.

His heart ached with the weight of it, with the need to tell her, to unburden himself of the truth that had taken root so deeply he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

But how? How could he look her in the eye and admit what he was so sure would unravel the tenuous balance between them?

One morning, he found himself wandering aimlessly through the palace gardens. It was the time of day she often brought fresh linens from the storage to the castle, she usually crossed the gardens. He lingered, hoping for a glimpse of her, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Frustrated, he returned to his chambers, pacing the space restlessly, thinking. No, waiting to next see her. When she finally arrived, carrying a tray of fresh tea and biscuits, his breath hitched.

“You’re pacing,” she said, placing the tray on the table. “That’s never a good sign.”

“I’ve been restless,” he admitted, stopping mid-stride. “And you’re late.”

She raised an eyebrow as she set the tea. “Didn’t know I was on your schedule.”

He crossed the room to her, his steps deliberate. “I notice when you’re not here.”

Her hands stilled for a moment before she resumed arranging the tea things. “I’m just a servant, Your Highness. Surely you have better things to notice.”

“That’s not true,” he said, his voice dropping.

She looked up at him, her expression guarded. “It should be.”

He wanted to argue, to say it wasn’t her place to decide what mattered to him, but the vulnerability in her gaze stopped him. Instead, he changed the subject.

“Have you eaten today?”

She frowned, clearly caught off guard. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I’d wager you haven’t,” he said, stepping closer. “You work yourself to the bone.”

She shrugged, turning back to her task. “I’m used to it.”

“That’s not an answer,” he said, his tone softer now. “Come. Sit with me for a moment.”

She hesitated, glancing at the door. “If someone sees—”

“No one will,” he said, moving to pull a chair out for her. “Please.”

Her eyes darted between him and the chair before she sighed, giving in and sitting reluctantly.

He poured her a cup of tea, his movements unhurried. As he handed it to her, their fingers brushed, and he felt the now-familiar spark that always seemed to follow her touch.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said quietly, looking down at the tea.

“Do what?”

“Treat me like I’m someone,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Someone important.”

His chest tightened. “You are.”

She looked up at him then, her eyes wide, filled with a mix of disbelief and something else—something that made his breath catch.

For a moment, he thought about saying it, about laying it all out before her. But the words caught in his throat, weighed down by the fear of what her reaction might be.

The next day, Charles found himself waiting for her in his chambers again, anticipation thrumming through him. When she arrived, her arms full of fresh linens, he immediately noticed the faint circles under her eyes.

“You’re overworking yourself again,” he said, standing from his seat near the window.

“I’m fine,” she replied, her tone brisk as she moved to change the bedding.

“You’re not,” he countered, moving closer.

She straightened, turning to face him. “Why do you care?”

The question hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken truths.

“Because…” He hesitated, his hands flexing at his sides as he struggled to find the right words. “Because you matter to me.”

Her lips parted, her breath catching. “Charles, don’t—”

“I’m not trying to overstep,” he said quickly. “But you should know—I can’t ignore it anymore.”

“Ignore what?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Before he could answer, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hall. She stepped back instinctively, breaking the moment.

Over the next few days, he was quieter, more pensive. He found himself watching her more often, the words he wanted to say always on the tip of his tongue. But every time he opened his mouth, the weight of the risks stopped him.

What if she didn’t feel the same? What if she did, but couldn’t say so?

The questions tormented him, each one drawing him closer to the inevitable conclusion: he had to tell her.

But how could he make her understand the depth of his feelings without ruining everything?

Charles really tried to wait it out, he tried so hard.

But when the rain lashed outside his chambers where he sat in the dimly lit room, the fire crackling softly in the hearth.

He worried.

It was late, far later than when she usually came, but he had waited, a knot of tension in his chest.

When the door finally opened, and she stepped inside with her usual quiet grace, drenched from the rain with his laundry in a covered basket, his heart leapt.

“You’re soaked,” he said, standing quickly. “You shouldn’t be out in this weather.”

She shrugged, setting the basket down by the door. “Work doesn’t stop for a storm, Your Highness.”

He frowned, crossing the room to her. “Take off that cloak; you’ll catch your death.”

“I’m fine,” she said, brushing past him toward the hearth, but her shivering betrayed her words.

He moved closer, pulling her gently toward the warmth of the fire. “Why do you always insist on pretending you’re fine when you’re not?”

She stiffened under his touch. “Because I have no other choice.”

Her words hit him harder than he expected. He reached for her hands, his thumbs brushing over her cold fingers. “You shouldn’t have to live like this.”

She pulled her hands back, looking at him with a mixture of confusion and caution. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He hesitated, his heart pounding. “I can’t keep pretending. Not anymore.”

“Pretending what?” she asked, her voice quiet but steady.

“That I don’t feel this,” he said, stepping closer. “That I don’t feel everything for you.”

Her eyes widened, her breath catching. “Charles…”

“I love you,” he said, the words tumbling out, raw and unguarded. “I’ve tried to fight it, to ignore it, but I can’t. I don’t want to.”

Before she could even stop them, tears welled in her eyes, and she shook her head, stepping back. “You don’t mean that. You can’t.”

“I do,” he said firmly, closing the distance between them again. “I’d give up everything—this title, this life—if it meant being with you.”

Her tears spilled over then, and she covered her mouth with her hand. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think it.”

“Why not?” he asked, his voice breaking. “If I’m not happy here—if I can’t have the life I want—what good is any of this?”

“Because you don’t know what you’re saying,” she said, her voice rising. “You’ve lived in a palace your entire life, with servants, banquets, comfort. You don’t know what it’s like to live without it. To go to bed on an empty stomach. To wake up not knowing if you’ll have work the next day. I can’t do that to you.”

“You wouldn’t be doing it to me,” he said desperately. “It would be my choice.”

She shook her head again, her tears falling faster now. “And what happens when you realise you can’t live like that? When the reality of it sets in? You’ll resent me. And I’ll lose you.”

“You won’t lose me,” he said, his voice pleading as he reached for her hands again. “I swear to you, you won’t.”

“I don’t have a good life,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I can barely take care of myself. How could I take care of you?”

“I don’t need you to take care of me,” he said, his hands tightening around hers. “I just need you. I don’t care about the rest.”

She looked at him, her eyes searching his, her tears glistening in the firelight. “You’re asking me to believe in something that feels impossible.”

“Then let me prove it to you,” he said, his voice breaking as his own tears threatened to fall. “Please. Give me a chance to show you how much you mean to me. Let me love you the way you deserve.”

Her resolve wavered, her breath hitching as his words sank in. She wanted to believe him—desperately—but the fear of what they would face, of what they would lose, loomed over her.

“Cha…” she began, her voice cracking.

“Please,” he whispered, his forehead resting against hers. “Say yes. Just… say yes.”

For a long, agonising moment, the only sound was the rain pounding against the windows and the crackle of the fire.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she said finally, her voice barely audible.

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” he said, cupping her face gently, his thumbs brushing away her tears. “But don’t push me away. Not now. Not when I know you feel this too.”

Her lips quivered, and she closed her eyes, a fresh tear slipping down her cheek. “You’re impossible,” she whispered.

“And you’re everything,” he replied, his voice trembling with emotion.

After pacing around his room for a few days, thinking of how he was going to tell his father, Charles went to his study.

The atmosphere in the king’s study was heavy with tension, the air almost crackling as Charles stood before his father. The older man sat behind an imposing mahogany desk, his expression dark and unreadable. The storm that had raged days earlier seemed to have shifted inside these walls, centering on the room as if the universe sensed the coming conflict.

“I need to speak with you,” Charles began, his voice steady but tight.

The king set down the pen he had been holding, his gaze sharp. “This sounds serious.”

“It is,” Charles replied, straightening his shoulders. “I’ve made a decision.”

The king leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “I see. Go on, then.”

“I’m going to abdicate.”

For a moment, the words seemed to hang in the air, the weight of them pressing down on the room.

Then, the king’s expression darkened further, his voice sharp and incredulous. “You’re what?”

“I’ve decided I don’t want the throne,” Charles said firmly. “It’s not the life I want anymore.”

The king rose from his chair, his movements slow and deliberate as he loomed over the desk. “Do you even understand what you’re saying? What you’re throwing away?”

“Yes,” Charles said, meeting his father’s gaze without flinching. “I’ve thought about this—more than you know. I don’t want this life. I want…” He hesitated, his voice softening. “I want to live my own life.”

The king scoffed, shaking his head. “And what life would that be? One of obscurity? Of poverty? You’ve never gone a day without comfort, without privilege. You know nothing of what it’s like out there, and you think you can just… give all of this up?”

“I do,” Charles said, his tone resolute.

The king’s eyes narrowed. “This is about her, isn’t it? That servant girl. Your mother mentioned her but I did not believe her.”

Charles’s chest tightened, but he didn’t deny it. “Yes. It’s about her. But it’s also about me. About what I want, who I want to be. And I know I don’t want this.”

“Don’t be a fool,” the king snapped, his voice rising. “You think love is enough to sustain you? That some fantasy of a simpler life will keep you warm when reality sets in? She can’t give you what you need, Charles.”

“She gives me what I want,” Charles shot back, his voice fierce. “And for once, isn’t that enough?”

“No, it isn’t!” the king roared, slamming his hand on the desk. “You’re a prince! You have a duty—to your family, to your people. You can’t just walk away because of some fleeting infatuation.”

“It’s not fleeting,” Charles said, his voice dropping but losing none of its intensity. “I love her. And I’d rather live a life with her—whatever that looks like—than spend one more moment pretending to be happy here.”

The king laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “You’re naïve. You don’t even know how to survive out there.”

“She’ll teach me,” Charles said, surprising even himself with the certainty in his voice. “I want to learn. I want that life—with her.”

The king stared at him, his face a mixture of disbelief and frustration. “You’re throwing away everything you’ve ever known for a life of struggle. For what?”

“For love,” Charles said simply.

The room fell silent, the only sound the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. The king finally sat back down, rubbing a hand over his face. When he looked up again, his expression was weary but no less stern.

“You’re making a mistake,” he said quietly.

“Maybe,” Charles replied. “But it’s my mistake to make.”

The king’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze searching his son’s face as if looking for a crack in his resolve. But Charles stood firm, his decision made.

“You’ll regret this,” the king said finally, his voice heavy with warning.

“Perhaps,” Charles said. “But I’ll never regret choosing her.”

Without another word, he turned and walked out of the study, leaving his father staring after him in silence.

The rumours spread like wildfire. Whispers followed Charles wherever he walked, his every step trailed by servants and courtiers exchanging furtive glances and hushed speculations. The air in the palace buzzed with the shock of his decision, but none of it mattered to him. Not the disapproval etched into his father’s face, nor the incredulous murmurs of the courtiers. His mind was focused solely on her.

He found her in the palace laundry room, folding linens with the quiet efficiency that always seemed to calm her. When he walked in, she froze, her fingers clutching the corner of a sheet.

“You,” she began, her voice a mixture of disbelief and exasperation. “You really went through with it?”

He stepped closer, his hands tucked behind his back, his face calm but his eyes alight with purpose. “I told you I would.”

She stared at him, shaking her head. “I thought—Charles, I thought it was just talk. Something you’d get over once you realised how insane it is.”

“Well, I’m officially insane,” he said with a faint smile, stepping closer.

She dropped the sheet onto the table and turned to face him fully, her arms crossed. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? The crown, the throne, your entire future—it’s gone. All of it. For what?”

“For you,” he said simply.

Her mouth opened, but no words came. Finally, she shook her head, her voice trembling. “You’re impossible. Do you know what this means? I can’t work here anymore, not if you abdicate. The palace won’t keep me.”

“I know,” he said gently. “And I wouldn’t ask you to stay here. We’ll leave—together.”

“Leave?” she echoed, blinking at him.

“Yes,” he said, stepping closer until he was just in front of her. “I’ve been thinking about it. We can go somewhere no one knows us, where we can start fresh.”

She stared at him like he’d grown another head. “Where would we even go?”

“Italy,” he said with a small smile.

“Italy?” she repeated, her brows furrowing.

“Yes, maybe Marenello,” he said, his voice filled with conviction. “It’s beautiful, the weather is perfect, and… I don’t know, it just feels right.”

She let out a soft, incredulous laugh. “Charles, I don’t even speak Italian.”

He tilted his head, his smile widening. “Then, for once, I’ll get to teach you something.”

His words hung in the air, so tender and unexpected that she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. The corners of his eyes crinkled at her reaction, and before she could say anything else, he stepped even closer and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

She closed her eyes, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver through her. “You’re serious about this,” she whispered.

“Completely,” he murmured against her hair. “I’m not afraid of starting over, not if it’s with you.”

For a moment, she let herself believe it could be possible—this crazy, impossible dream of theirs.

“When?” she asked softly.

“Tomorrow,” he said, his voice full of quiet resolve. “After I sign the abdication papers.”

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with wide, searching eyes. “And then what?”

He smiled, his expression both calm and full of determination. “And then we start the life we’ve always wanted.”

She didn’t want to be vulgar, she really didn’t but she had to be honest.

She was shitting herself at the thought of being summoned into the King’s office with the entire family.

The office was uncharacteristically quiet, the usual hustle and bustle of the palace muffled by the thick doors. Charles sat at the massive oak desk, the official abdication papers spread out before him. Arthur stood off to the side, his arms crossed, watching the scene with a mix of bewilderment and unease while his parents stood by the desk with a clear look of disdain etched on their faces.

She stood near the doorway, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She looked smaller than usual, her nerves evident in the way her fingers twisted together. Her wide eyes darted between Charles and the papers, the weight of the moment pressing down on all of them.

Arthur broke the silence first. “Are you sure about what you’re doing, Cha?”

Charles’s pen hovered over the signature line, but he didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looked up at her. She met his gaze, and in that instant, the rest of the room faded away. The worry in her eyes, the way her lips pressed together as if she was holding back words—it was as if he was falling in love all over again.

“You don’t have to do this for me, Cha,” she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

He smiled at her, then, without hesitation, he bent his head and signed his name in bold strokes across the paper.

The moment was electric, the scratch of the pen on parchment the only sound in the room. When he finally set the pen down, it felt as if the world had shifted, as if something monumental had been set into motion.

Arthur exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Well, there it is,” he muttered, his voice carrying a mixture of disbelief and resignation. “You’re officially insane.”

Charles stood, his movements deliberate as he turned to face her. “Go back to your house,” he said, his voice steady but laced with an urgency that made her breath hitch. “Pack your things. Tell your brother. We’re leaving at six.”

Her eyes widened, her lips parting as if to protest, but before she could say a word, Arthur muttered something about needing air and slipped out of the room, leaving them alone, his parents following shortly behind.

The silence that followed was thick with tension, their gazes locked as the gravity of what had just happened sank in.

“You…” she began, her voice trembling. “You really did it.”

“I did,” he said, stepping closer to her.

She opened her mouth to speak again, but before she could, he cupped her face gently in his hands. The world seemed to pause, the space between them charged with an intensity that neither of them could deny any longer.

And then he kissed her.

It was soft at first, tentative, as if he was savouring the moment he had dreamed of for so long. But when she leaned into him, her hands clutching his jacket as if to anchor herself, the kiss deepened, becoming a silent promise of everything they were about to face together.

When they finally pulled apart, her cheeks were flushed, her breathing uneven. He rested his forehead against hers, his hands still cradling her face.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice low and full of emotion.

She blinked, her eyes shining as she searched his face. “I love you too,” she said softly, her voice breaking slightly. Because she did, she didn’t know when she exactly fell in love with him. Maybe it was when he first came to her house and looked at it with wonder rather than judgement or maybe it was when they shared that intimate moment in the wardrobe.

He smiled, brushing a thumb across her cheek. “Then go,” he said. “Pack your things. This time tomorrow, we’ll be miles away from here. Together.”

She nodded, her resolve strengthening as she stepped back, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer before she turned and slipped out of the office.

Charles stood there for a moment, the weight of what he’d just done settling in his chest. But for the first time in his life, he felt truly free.

the end.

[tamayula-hl]

Obsessed with Anne!

If the curse on Anne is successfully lifted and she is able to return to Hogwarts, MC and her must become very good friends and Sebastian must be upset that Anne will steal the MC from him because they are so close 💕😏

I wish such a smiling and happy future for Anne and Sebastian… 🥲🥲🥲

[expelliarmus444]

If texting were a thing in the 1890s pt 7

Ominis: have you lost it Ominis: why is there a mooncalf in our room Sebastian: oh that's Binky Ominis: excuse me? Sebastian: i got him for MC Sebastian: she loves mooncalves Ominis: okay cool WHY IS IT IN MY ROOM Sebastian: well i wasn't going to leave him outside like he's some sort of beast Ominis: HE IS A BEAST??? Sebastian: how dare you Sebastian: he's my son Sebastian: with MC Sebastian: have some respect Ominis Ominis: i don't know what she sees in you Ominis: it ate a page out of my herbology book Ominis: Sebastian Ominis: Sebastian Ominis: you're so dead Sebastian: sorry just saw this Sebastian: he was probably hungry no big deal Ominis: ????? Ominis: come get your stupid pet out of here before i transfigure it into an apple and throw it out a window Sebastian: no need to get violent omg im coming Natsai: why is there mooncalf in the hallway Poppy: where?????? Natsai: datda tower Anne: i think it just ate duncan hobhouse's homework Sebastian: YOU LET HIM OUT???? Ominis: nvm you can bring him back Ominis: fuck puffskein dunkein Natsai: real MC: let who out??????? Sebastian: ...surprise? Natsai: lol i should've known Poppy: quick everyone pretend to be shocked that this is Sebastian's fault Anne: disappointed but not surprised Ominis: MC its not too late to choose me instead Sebastian: WTF????

[iatnen]

Adult Sebastian and Daniel (1902)

28 -> 27 / Curse-Breaker -> Auror

Reunited at the train station after years apart, one’s going home to his nephew and the other’s going to work

Was listening to Back To The Basics by Lana and thought of them

[kleinundscharf]

Ngl I was very much in angsty mood during winter pt 1

[askthemillerhousehold]

How wouod doey react if someone hurt billie anna?

🦊: Like this.

[lichenbug]

real photo of my gf irl

[fauchart]

S?? E?? - 'When Snakey Met Annie...'

An early season Bob-centric episode in which Ann finds Snake again after he's robbed her diner and, charmed and stupid, she tries to get him to date her - he's entirely uninterested until she mentions living across the penitentiary. The wheels start to turn and all of a sudden, he welcomes the idea... Meanwhile, Bob had been reading self-improvement books (anger management, how to let go of grudges, revenge isn't the answer etc) and was on his very best behaviour, planning on waiting out his sentence and come back to society a changed man, ready for a fresh start... But when the opportunity to escape is presented as readily as it is here, he shrugs off all of his good decisions, throws his book above his shoulder and switches back to crazed maniac in an instant - and back to hunting Bart he goes! Though the focus of the episode will be Bob and Bart, several times throughout the episode there will be appearances of Snake trying to drop the charade with Ann now that he got what he wanted - but each time he'll have to keep up the farce for one reason or another;

(Listen, Snake growing a conscience and suddenly refusing to violate carpool lane rules for a one-off joke is hilarious to me. Don't look at me like that)

While their B-Plot is going on and intermittently shows them fleeing the law by car in gradually stupider situations - Bob has managed to corner Bart against the big window pane of the Mall. As he lifts his knife, about to strike... Snake's car suddenly crashes through that window and flies out of the mall above Bart, before ramming straight into Bob and splattering him on the pavement. The end of a sequence parodying the Mall Car Chase scene from the Blues Brothers.

"Dude, that was not a shortcut." Cut to both Bob and Snake getting handcuffed. Snake looks a little more sincere when he says "I'll call you!" to Ann-Doreen as the cops make him sit in the car. Mirroring that, Bob says "I'll kill you!" to Bart as the ambulance takes him away. Roll credits.

WELL THAT WAS A LONG ONE. LOL. I worked hard on this one, so for once I'll say; please reblog and give me your thoughts! I hope you liked it!!

BONUS INFOS:

This would be the second episode with Ann-Doreen (outside of like, crowd shots and other non-speaking appearances in the background) and the one to properly set up the relationship she has with Snake. Lots of fun for that poor bugger!

I've made all the panels rectangular because I wanted to try and work in a format that's similar to actually watching the show - it's not 16:9 (nor square like it should technically be for early seasons) but I think we get the feeling anyway :]

That one other guy in the prison is just this random unnamed prisoner from 12x10 'Pokey Mom'. His first appearance would thus be in that ep I made, since it predates season 12!

Also here's me knowing in advance I'm putting way too much effort into this post:

[morgana-larkin]

So I got an idea for another idea for a fix-it fic from the latest episode. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

Summary: You are one of Melissa's casual hookups. You develop feelings for her and you've only told Ava. Then you watch as Melissa wants to become exclusive with Robinson

First Choice

Warnings: Swearing, Jealous reader

Words: 4k

You walk into the doors of Abbott Elementary and enter the breakroom and you see the usual gang there. You put your lunch in the fridge before you go on the couch and go on your phone. You didn’t notice Melissa tracking all of your movements and staring at your ass as you walked to the couch. You’re walking to your fifth grade classroom a few minutes before the bell rings when you get stopped by someone and you turn around to see Melissa there.

“Hey Melissa, what’s up?” You ask her.

“Well I’m seeing Captain Rob tonight but what if you come over tomorrow night?” She asks you.

You and Melissa started having casual sex when she started exploring the world of casual relationships last year. Over that time you developed feelings for the redhead and even when you should stop, you can’t as she’s too addictive. You want to say that she’s developed feelings for you as well but she’s so hard to read sometimes and you’re always getting mixed signals.

“I’ll have to see if I’m busy or not.” You tell her and she nods before she walks to her classroom. You watch as she walks away both knowing full well she’s swinging that ass more as she knows you’re watching her.

You know you’re already free tomorrow night but you learned early on she likes a little mystery to someone, so you always say you’ll check. Sometimes you actually are busy but most of the time you’re not.

You walk into the break room at lunch and you see Gary there refilling the vending machine. You haven’t seen him since Melissa rejected his proposal in front of the entire school and you have to say that he basically brought upon himself.

“Hey Gary, haven’t seen you in awhile.” You tell him and he turns around as he watches you walk to the fridge to get your lunch.

“Hey Y/n, you still work here?” He asks you with a smile. The both of you ended up getting to know each other as you started spending time around Melissa when they were going out. Before you answer, Melissa walks in.

“Ya, still work here. How have you been?” You ask him as you put your meal in the microwave.

“Pretty good, I was actually just telling Melissa that I’m getting married.” He tells you and you turn to see Melissa there with a smile before turning back to him.

“Married? Oh congrats!” You tell him.

“Thank you.” He tells you. “Melissa’s coming to it.” He adds and then he closes the vending machine. “Oh by the way, I made sure to stock it up with Kit Kat’s for ya.” He tells you and you smile.

“Oh perfect, thank you.” You tell him and he smiles before leaving. The microwave beeps to signal your food is done and you take it out before sitting with Melissa and Barb.

“So you’re going to his wedding?” You ask her and she nods.

“Yep.” She tells you.

“I’m surprised he invited you considering how the relationship ended.”

“I guess he got over it as it led him to this other girl.” She tells you.

“So are you bringing a plus one?” You ask her.

“Well I’m planning on it and I’m thinking of asking Captain Rob to go with me, he’s a fun time.” She tells you and your smile immediately turns into a frown.

“Don’t you usually invite another person if you’re serious or at least a friend?” You ask her, knowing she still sees him as a casual thing.

“It’s still just casual, but he knows how to party, so it should be fun.” She tells you with a smile and you nod, a little heartbroken that she hasn’t thought to ask you.

“Well I just remembered I have some grading to catch up on so I’ll see you both later.” You tell them and they both say bye to you before you leave.

The next morning you walk in with Melissa and Jacob as you all arrived at the same time, and Jacob is asking the same questions you asked her yesterday.

“Then you’re suddenly in brunch territory.” He tells her.

“Jacob, he’s still saved in my phone as fireman number 2, I think we’re good.” She tells him.

“2? You’re seeing two?” You ask her and she nods.

“Yep, what can I say, I have a thing for firefighters.” She tells you with a smile. “By the way, are you free tonight?” She asks you and you remember how hurt you were yesterday.

“I’m afraid I’m busy.” You tell her and you see she looks a bit disappointed.

“Oh, well how about tomorrow or Saturday?” She asks you and you see Jacob's expression hasn’t changed, knowing you and Mel have been hooking up for a few months and he’s already used to this.

“I’ll have to see and get back to you tomorrow.” You tell her and she nods.

“I’ll be looking forward to your answer.” She tells you and you all reach the breakroom.

At the end of the day you’re talking with Ava in the office area and you see Melissa stomping out of the school. You look confused and Ava sees what you’re looking at.

“Ohh the fiery redhead is steamed.” She says and you roll your eyes. “Aren’t you gonna go calm your girl down?” She asks you.

“She’s not my girl.” You tell her with a sigh. 

You somehow found a really good friend in Ava in the past year and she’s the only one you told your feelings to. She’s managed to keep it a secret despite her love for drama but you’re guessing friends are very important to her.

“Your future girl then.” She says.

“I’m not telling her, she likes having casual sex with people. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable or disrespect her boundaries by telling her I have feelings for her.” You say to Ava. “See you tomorrow.” You tell her.

“See ya.” She says and then you leave.

You cross the parking lot to your car and you don’t realise you’re passing Melissa’s car as you search for your keys. Melissa notices you and stares at you as you cross the street to your car and she sighs.

Melissa just found out that Robinson is going out with another girl, Gary is getting married and you cancelled sex with her. Not the best 2 days for her as everyone is not choosing her.

The next day you and Jacob are listening to her telling the story of Moses’s. You watch in fascination of Jacob’s reaction and Barb’s dramatic storytelling.

“What? Oh my god, should I read the bible? Ok, no more spoilers.” He tells her and you can’t help but laugh before Melissa bursts in all pissed.

“Could anymore of those hipster college kids move to this town and ruin it!” She yells angrily and you furrow your eyebrows. “That’s why my sixers are blowing it! And the Phillies lost in the playoffs to the mets. The METS, Barb, damn it!” She says. You know sports are important to her but she’s never been this angry about it before.

“You alright Mel?” You ask her and she looks at you.

“I don’t know Y/n, it’s just a… I’m having a bad case of whatever the hell this day is.” She spits out.

“Lies! Liza Minelli.” Jacob says as he stands up and he walks to her table and sits down. You choose to stay where you are as you’re probably not the best at calming her down. “Something is amiss and you are going to spill sister, ok? Like the oil that is unfortunately in our oceans.” He says while looking at the camera and you roll your eyes while taking a sip of your coffee.

“Ok fine, Captain Rob can’t go to Gary’s wedding, which is fine.” She says, sounding absolutely not fine.

“Doesn’t seem like it’s fine.” Jacob says.

“No, it’s… you know what? It’s not fine, but why? Why isn’t it fine?” She says and you furrow your eyebrows, a little nervous about where this is headed. “Why do I care if he goes to the symphony with some SLUT!” She says and then angrily puts her lunch in the fridge.

“Melissa! Sit.” Barb tells her sternly and Melissa immediately sits down and Barb sits beside her. “Now, do you want him to see other people or not?” Barb asks her and you stare intently at her.

“No, I-I guess I don’t.” She says and your heart drops at her words.

“Sounds like somebody wants to go steady.” Barb tells her with a smile.

“Oh, fine.” Melissa says with a smile as well. She casts a glance at you and sees you have your arms crossed on the couch looking like you’re having an internal hissy fit. She gets up from her chair and walks over to you. “Y/n, are you ok?” She asks you and you look at her before you stand up and grab your things.

“No, but what do you care?” You ask her and then walk out, leaving her confused in the break room. Melissa looks at Barb and Jacob confused before they both shrug in response and then she decides to follow you. She watches as you walk all the way to Ava’s office and she frowns as she sees you immediately take a seat in the free chair and Ava doesn’t even flinch.

“What’s up?” Ava asks you.

“Melissa wants to go steady with Captain idiot.” You tell her and she looks up from her phone.

“I told you to tell her about your feelings.” She says and you sigh.

“She obviously doesn’t have feelings for me as she’s upset about not being exclusive with the idiot.” You tell her.

“How about you come over to my place tonight and I’ll take you out to get plastered?” She offers and you look at her.

“I like that plan, thank you.” You tell her and she nods.

“Good, be at my place at 8. Now get to class.” She tells you as she sees there’s a few minutes left until the bell.

“See you later.” You tell her and then start walking to your classroom. 

You see Melissa walking down the hall and you tilt your head, it doesn’t look like she just came from the breakroom. You shrug and then go to your classroom. You start to head to the breakroom after dropping your kids off in the caf but get stopped by Melissa.

“What was wrong this morning?” She asks you and you look at her.

“It’s nothing, I feel better now.” That was a total lie. “I went to Ava and she helped me feel better.”

“Well what made you all pissed?” She asks as she follows you to the breakroom.

“Nothing that concerns you.” You snap. “By the way I guess you’re not free any nights now.” You say to her as you turn around to face her and she looks down.

“Well, ya I guess so, I want to tell him today.” She says.

“Well it was great knowing you then.” You tell her and then continue heading to the breakroom.

“What! Wait a minute.” She says as she runs ahead of you and blocks your path. “What do you mean great knowing you? Just because I might go into a relationship doesn’t mean I won’t make time for you.” She tells you genuinely.

“Melissa, the only time we hung out outside of school was to…hook up.” You whisper the last 2 words as there’s teachers and students walking around. 

“And? Doesn’t mean that can’t change.”

“Like your feelings?” You ask her and she furrows her eyebrows.

“What?”

“You literally said yesterday that you like being casual with Robinson and now you want to be with him? Like what the fuck?” You ask her and she sighs.

“Feelings can change.” She tells you and you roll your eyes.

“Whatever, I’m busy everyday you want to hang out anyway.” You tell her and then blow past her and enter the breakroom.

Everyone notices how Melissa watches you walk from the fridge to the couch, looking hurt by something. Jacob is the only one that gets up and sits next to you on the couch.

“Everything ok with you and Melissa?” He asks you.

“We’re not friends anymore, that’s all.” You tell him. “Actually, I don’t think we were ever friends. We only hung out to hook up but that’s over.” You say and sit back on the couch with  a sigh.

“She does see you as a friend.” He says like it's obvious.

“I doubt that, but either way her and I are done whatever was going on.” You say and he looks at you before he figures it out.

“Oh my god, you’re jealous.” He says and you cover his mouth with your hand.

“Keep your voice down.” You tell her sternly before removing your hand.

“You’re jealous, that’s why you’re cranky. Oh wait, you’re jealous and Melissa isn’t choosing you. Y/n, I’m sorry.” He says and you look down.

“It doesn’t matter, Melissa made her choice.” You tell him before you get up to go and eat in your classroom. A few minutes later Melissa bursts in your classroom and walks right up to you. “JESUS CHRIST MELISSA! Ever heard of knocking?” You ask her as she took you by surprise.

“Come over tonight.” She says, completely ignoring what you just said.

“Why would I come over?” 

“You’re obviously upset or mad at me about something, so come over tonight so we can talk.” She tells you and you shake your head.

“I’m busy.” You tell her and she crosses her arms.

“With what?”

“With none of your business.” You say and she rolls her eyes. “Also going out with Ava and I also don’t want to go to your place.” You tell her angrily.

“Then Saturday.” She says.

“The not wanting to go to your place applies to every day.” You tell her.

“Then I’ll come to your place.” She says.

“You can try but I won’t let you in.” You say as you continue eating.

“Why are you so angry with me? What did I do?” She asks you and you look at the wide open door and she follows your eyesight. She immediately goes and closes the door before she walks back to you. “Well?” 

“Why do you even care? It’s not like we’re friends.” You tell her and you see that comment hurt her.

“I thought we were friends.”

“We’re coworkers who occasionally hooked up. That’s all we were. Now can you please leave? I’d like to eat in peace.” You tell her.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me? Why are you upset that we’re not hooking up anymore?” She asks and she pushed you past your limits and you snap.

“I’m not upset about that! I’m upset that you’re not choosing me! Now LEAVE.” You tell her and she’s too shocked by your words that she does leave and doesn’t talk to you for the rest of the day.

Melissa tries to catch you after the day ends but she makes it to the parking lot just as you’re pulling out and she groans. She then hurries to her car and sees if she can make it to your place just as you get home. She hurries to your place and doesn’t even see your car there and she looks confused. Where the hell were you?

You pull up to Ava’s house and knock on the door. Ava opens the door a few seconds later and sees you there.

“Y/n? You were supposed to be here at 8.” She says but then sees you visible upset and she lets you in. “What did Melissa do now?” She asks you.

“I might have accidentally told Melissa I have feelings for her.”

“Did you or did you not?” She asks as you both sit on her couch.

“Well technically I told her I’m upset that she didn’t choose me.” You tell her and she nods.

“I see.” She says 

“Now I can’t go home because I’m afraid Melissa might go to my place.” You tell her.

“Alright you can stay here tonight as you’re getting plastered anyway, but you go home tomorrow.” She says and you let out a sigh of relief.

You then feel your phone vibrate and you pull it out of your pocket and see you got a text from Melissa. 

Melissa: Where are you? I need to talk to you

“See, this is what I was afraid of.” You tell Ava as you show her the text.

“What if it’s something good?” Ava asks and you give her a look. “It could be.” She adds.

You end up getting very tipsy by 9pm and you end up falling into someone but they catch you. You look up to thank them but the words die in your throat as you see Melissa there.

“Y/n, there you- hi Schemmenti.” Ava says as she sees Melissa just caught you from falling. 

“I’m taking this one outside to get some air.” Melissa tells her and Ava just nods, knowing not to say no to Melissa. Melissa brings you outside of the club, having to keep you upright as you kept losing your balance.

“Melissa, what are you doing here?” You ask her.

“I need to talk to you and I couldn’t find you.”

“How did you find me?” You ask her.

“I may have looked on Ava’s instagram through Jacob and she posted about which bar you two were going to tonight.” She tells you.

“Why can’t you leave alone? You haven’t left me alone today at all.” You tell her and she sighs.

“You told me that you’re upset because I didn’t choose you, why didn’t you tell me that you have feelings for me?” She asks.

“Why does it matter? You like captain idiot.” You tell her and she smiles.

“I don’t like him that way.” She tells you and you look at her shocked.

“What? But you were telling Barb that you want to be exclusive with him this morning.”

“I freaked out when Gary mentioned he was getting married and he was an easy option because I didn’t know how you felt. You are extremely good at hiding your feelings.” She tells you. “Apparently you just had to be pretty jealous until you finally admit them.” She adds.

“You don’t like him?” You ask her and she shakes her head.

“I mean I’ve had fun with him and he’s alright in bed but with you it’s different. It’s better with you and not just because you know how to make me come multiple times very easily.” She says and you smirk. “But because there’s feelings involved from both people.” She tells you.

“You like me?” You ask her and she nods.

“I kept trying to see if you like me but I couldn’t tell. You’ve always been my first choice but I didn’t want to ruin what we had.” She says. You go to kiss her but she stops you with her hand. “I want to kiss you as well but I want to make sure you remember it. I don’t know how drunk you are.” She tells you with a smile and you lose your balance and fall on her but she catches you again. “Just falling for me aren’t ya?” She teases and you roll your eyes. “Come on, I’ll take you to my place.” 

“Aren’t you spending the night with captain idiot?” You ask her and she shakes her head.

“You see this very beautiful 5th grade teacher admitted she had feelings for me and so I met with Robinson to tell him our arrangement is over.” She says as she reaches her car and she helps you in.

“Who’s this 5th grade teacher?” You ask her as she gets in and she looks at you amused.

“You, you dork.” She says and then starts driving.

“Oh.” You say. Melissa drives you both to her place and she helps you to her bed and she practically throws you on her bed and you land on your back. “Oof.” 

“Did you want to sleep in your clothes or without clothes?” She asks you and you look at her.

“You just want me naked.” You accuse her and she rolls her eyes before she helps you sit up and takes your shirt off.

“I would never take advantage of you.” She says as she unclips your bra.

“Then why are you undressing me?” You ask her.

“Because these clothes don’t look comfortable to sleep in, and if you’re naked then you can feel my skin on yours.” She says and you smile.

“That is a really good feeling, especially since I love you.” You blurt out without realising it and she freezes while she was taking your pants off.

“You love me?” She asks.

“I do love you.” You tell her and she cups your cheek and places a kiss on your forehead. 

“We can talk about this more tomorrow.” She tells you and you nod. “Now get comfortable and let me just take my clothes off before I join you.” She tells you and you get under the covers and watch her undress. “Watching me take my clothes off?” She asks you with a smile and you nod. She joins you in the bed and you instantly go to cuddle her and she smiles. “I love you too.” She says softly and gives you a kiss on the head before you both fall asleep.

Melissa wakes up when she hears a thump and you yelp. Melissa sees you’re not in the bed and she goes to the side of the bed and sees you laying down on the floor and you whimper.

“Ow.” You say and she tries not to laugh.

“You ok?” She asks and you look at her before you get up.

“I didn’t think we’d have sex, I didn’t even know I was gonna see you last night. I told Ava to make sure I don’t run to you.” You tell her.

“Relax, we didn’t have sex.” She tells you and you look at her.

“Then why are we both naked?” You ask her. “And why am I here?”

“I took our clothes off because it would be less comfortable to sleep in your party clothes. And I brought you here after I went to see you at the club.” She explains and a few memories are coming back to you.

“I told you I love you.” You say and she nods.

“Yes but that’s ok bec-”

“I can’t believe I admitted that.” You say and she gets up and goes to you and grabs your shoulders.

“Y/n, your memory is a little hazy so let me catch you up. We both admitted we liked each other, I told you that you’ve always been my first choice, you’re really good at hiding your feelings, I stopped you from kissing me, I brought you here and we both admitted we love each other.” She explains and you take a few seconds to process everything she just told you.

“You stopped me from kissing you?” You ask her and she tilts her head.

“Out of everything I just told you, you focus on that one?” She asks and you nod. She then cups your cheeks and kisses you. You kiss her back and you put your arms around her neck and you feel her smile into the kiss. “Feel better?” She asks once she pulls away and you nod with a smile. She boops your nose and then gently grabs your chin with a smile. “I love you.” She tells you and looks at your eyes.

“I love you too.” You tell her with a big smile before she goes to kiss you again.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

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Let me know if you want to be added!

[chibifox2002]

Seeing that Billie-Anne visits Janet sometimes, were one of these visits how she met the toys?

It was a bit of an awkward first meeting.

Billie was on her bike passing by Janet's house on her way to the grocery store to get herself snacks, when she noticed Janet outside taking out trash.

She then immediately booked it towards her, absolutely sobbing.

She was in the middle of frantically asking Janet where she went and why she was hurt when she noticed movement behind her and then... uh.

... Even more questions emerged...

[tamayula-hl]

I just want to see these peaceful, fun moments in the HL Definitive Edition...😫

[whizzing-fizzbee]

Girls' Night

Sebastian Sallow x F!OC

Summary: Emmeline Alexander plans a girls' night for Anne Sallow and their friends at the cottage in Feldcroft, but her best friend and crush Sebastian insists on crashing the party. In other words, MC (Emmeline) and Sebastian take advantage of the Silencio spell in Sebastian's bedroom after a night of playing Never Have I Ever. Rating: Explicit 18+ (Minors DNI), all characters are 18+ Themes: Friends to lovers, slumber party, sleepover, girl talk, smut, romance Word count: 7,568 Notes: Every time I sit down to write my chapter fics, I accidentally write some nonsensical smut. Oops.

Characters are all seventh years and 18 years old. MC is an original female character named Emmeline Alexander.

Part 1 is clean, Part II has all the smut. Both can be found on AO3 or below the cut.

Part I: Girls' Night

Nightfall was reaching Feldcroft as Emmeline Alexander approached the quaint hamlet. She was tired from a long day of studying, but had decided to fly her broom there from Hogwarts. The fresh air was good for her and gave her some time to relax before what was sure to be a boisterous night.

Once she touched down, Emmeline made the familiar short trek to that same cottage – the one she’d been visiting regularly for over two years. Now, the cottage was larger – the handiwork of some transfiguration spells and charms she had mastered in the Room of Requirement. The home had two floors and separate bedrooms now, and she’d even added some flower boxes to the windows with simple, yet pretty landscaping outside.

It felt like home. In many ways, it was her second home.

The lights inside the cottage were on and Emmeline could hear joyous laughter and voices inside. She grinned to herself with anticipation as she knocked.

The door swung open and she was surprised by the first face to greet her.

“Sebastian?” she said stupidly.

“How nice to see you, too,” the freckled 18-year-old replied. He grinned at her and Emmeline felt her stomach flip. 

“Emmeline!” Anne Sallow, Imelda Reyes and Poppy Sweeting waved from their seats around the dining table inside. 

Emmeline moved to enter the home but was blocked by Sebastian, who held an arm across the threshold to prevent her from entering. “Wait,” he said, his lips forming a smirk. “You have to answer a security question.”

“Security question?” Emmeline repeatedly stupidly. “Seb, it’s me.”

“A likely response from an imposter,” Sebastian quipped while Anne, Imelda and Poppy giggled.

Emmeline sighed at the frivolity of it all. Clearly the group had already opened the firewhiskey. “Fine,” she sighed. “What’s the question?”

“Who was your first crush at Hogwarts?” Sebastian asked.

“Why is that the question?”

“Because the answer’s funny.”

Emmeline sighed again. “Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. Ominis,” Emmeline muttered quietly. 

“Who?”

“Ominis Gaunt.”

The group inside roared with laughter as Emmeline shoved her way past Sebastian, tossing her satchel on the floor once inside.

“Bastard,” she mumbled. Sebastian threw an arm around her and pulled her in for a sideways hug. 

“You know you love me,” he teased before Emmeline shoved him away.

“I’d love to be rid of you,” she sneered. “Besides, isn’t this supposed to be a girls’ night? Why are you here?”

“Don’t worry, darling, I’ll be out of your hair soon,” Sebastian said. “I’ll retreat to my room so you lovely ladies can do whatever it is you do.”

“Why aren’t you at Hogwarts?”

“Because it’s the weekend and all of my favorite people are here… except Ominis, but I reckon he’d appreciate a break from me,” Sebastian said.

“I’d appreciate a break from you too,” Emmeline huffed. “Especially after that stunt you pulled at breakfast this morning.”

“That was an accident, darling. I didn’t know the goblet was going to explode like that.”

Emmeline rolled her eyes and slinked past him to take a seat at the table with her other friends. She was quick to pour herself a glass from the firewhiskey bottle that sat on the table.

“Where’s Natty?” she asked as she reached for a handful of pear drops from a bowl.

“She’ll be here any moment,” Poppy answered. “She was having dinner with her mum.”

“And Nellie?”

“She’s not coming. She had a date.”

Emmeline’s eyes widened with curiosity. “With whom?”

“Everett.”

“Clopton?”

“Do we know another Everett?” Sebastian chimed in from the sink where he was cleaning dishes. Emmeline turned to glare at him.

“Excuse me, but I do believe this is supposed to be a girls’ night,” she chided. “These conversations are not meant to include you.”

Imelda and Poppy shared a glance, their understanding mutual. It was going to be a long, albeit entertaining night with Sebastian and Emmeline egging each other on. It was the nature of their friendship, and neither could help themselves.

But despite their ceaseless banter, Emmeline and Sebastian were incredibly fond of each other, carrying a close bond that traced back to the start of their fifth year. Since then, their lives became irrevocably intertwined, woven by the threads of adventure, trauma and mutual secrets.

They were inseparable most days, except when Sebastian inevitably said or did something foolish. He provided an edge that contrasted Emmeline’s poise, an amusing juxtaposition to all who had the privilege to sit back and observe the tandem. 

What neither of them could admit, though, was that their bond, no matter how unyielding, wasn’t quite enough to satiate either of them.

A brisk knock at the door signaled Natty’s arrival. Sebastian answered it again and offered Natty a much more hospitable welcome than the one he’d given Emmeline.

“Why doesn’t she have to answer any security questions?” Emmeline demanded.

“Because she is trustworthy,” Sebastian said, flashing an innocent grin. Emmeline shot him a glare, which only seemed to bring him more glee.

The five girls settled in around the table, catching up on their latest life updates. Though Emmeline, Imelda, Natty and Poppy saw one another daily at Hogwarts, Emmeline had taken it upon herself to ensure Anne wouldn’t feel left out. She knew Anne missed Hogwarts and her friends, especially now that it was their seventh year, so she arranged a slumber party to bring some cheer to the Feldcroft cottage.

“Natty, how was dinner with your mum?” Emmeline asked.

Natty sighed. “Not good,” she replied. “My mother doesn’t like the idea of me dating Eric.”

“Why not? Eric’s nice,” Poppy said.

“She doesn’t think Eric has enough ambition,” Natty explained. 

“Well they can’t all be Slytherins,” Emmeline laughed.

“Too true!” Anne laughed.

“And they can’t all be Leander, who still seems to think he’s going to be a world-renowned duelist,” Poppy muttered.

Emmeline offered her a sympathetic smile. “He’s still on about that?” she asked.

“More than ever,” Poppy sighed. “It’s rather insufferable, really. Makes me wonder if there’s something wrong with my head for fancying him.”

Meanwhile, Sebastian listened to their conversation with fascination as he pretended to dry dishes in the kitchen. Sure, he knew girls had these kinds of discussions, but they usually chose their words carefully or withheld certain details when boys were around. He felt like they were providing him with some kind of answer sheet that could help him crack the code to what it was that women actually wanted. 

“Leander always means well,” Emmeline continued. “Sometimes it comes off a bit obnoxious or paltry, but his intentions are always good.”

“I wish I knew what his intentions are with me,” Poppy sighed. “He’s all over the place. Anyway, I guess I should be patient with him. He may be delusional at times, but at least he has ambitions.”

“Eric does have ambitions, though,” Natty sighed. “He’s very brave and has a good head on his shoulders. He just isn’t sure what he wants to do after Hogwarts yet. I told my mother he’d figure it out and find a good job, but she doesn’t seem convinced.”

“She’ll come around,” Emmeline assured. “She’s just being a protective mother. She just needs to get to know him a little more.”

“I hope that’s true,” Natty said. “I really like him.”

“He really likes you too,” Imelda noted. “I overheard him singing your praises to Weasley in Potions last week. You know, before the class had to clear out because of Garreth’s rogue potion.”

“Speaking of Garreth,” Poppy giggled. “I heard you had to let him down easy, Emmeline.”

“What?!”

The five girls jumped at the sudden intrusion, turning to stare at Sebastian, who had been listening intently from his spot near the sink.

“Will you mind your business?!” Anne chided.

“Weasley asked you out?” Sebastian asked, his gaze fixed on Emmeline as he ignored his sister’s scolding.

Emmeline furrowed her brow at him, still taken aback by his sudden outburst. “What, is that so hard to believe?” she demanded. 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Sebastian replied. He was fortunate he was standing with one side turned away from the group of girls, because a vein in his neck threatened to expose just how irritated he was. “I’m just surprised, is all. Didn’t know Weasley had it in him.”

“Well I told him thanks but no thanks,” Emmeline said, still eyeing Sebastian suspiciously. “I like Garreth but he’s not my type.”

“And what is your type?” Imelda asked. “Judging from your past dating history, I’m not sure you have one.”

Emmeline paused. It was true, the boys she’d gone out with were all quite different from one another. Her first crush at Hogwarts had been Ominis, which all of her friends gleefully reminded her of much too frequently for her liking. She had fancied him because he was noble and composed, yet just playful enough to avoid being deemed too stuffy. But that crush had been fleeting as she and Ominis became close friends, and Emmeline’s affections were replaced by the other member of their trio, who was just the right amount of daring and incalculable she adored.

Then there was Amit Thakkar, who had been incredibly romantic and sweet, but not quite adventurous enough for her. There was also Andrew Larson, who intrigued Emmeline with his artistry and creative spirit, but was also too keen on staying indoors and out of trouble.

Emmeline had agreed to a handful of Hogsmeade visits and informal dates with other boys in her year, but none had reached more than one or two outings before she offered some excuse, usually that she was too busy to date.

In truth, Emmeline’s preoccupation had little to do with her schedule and everything to do with the only boy who had never pursued her. 

She and Sebastian teased, flirted, even made suggestive remarks not suitable for most platonic friendships. They spent most of their free time, meals and classes together, far too often even for best mates. They shared secrets, musings and inside jokes that no other ears would ever hear, but they remained unaware that their biggest secret was mutual.

“I guess Garreth is just too… superficial for me,” Emmeline finally said with a shrug. “Don’t get me wrong, I like him. He makes me laugh and he’s always fun to hang out with, but I can’t recall ever having one deep or meaningful conversation with him in the two-and-a-half years I’ve known him. I want someone who makes me laugh but also makes me think.”

“But didn’t you say Amit was too deep for you?” Imelda pointed out.

Emmeline sighed. “There’s no such thing as too deep,” she said. “Amit was just too… philosophical. He was always trying to apply some underlying meaning to everything. It was just too much for me. Sometimes, I think things just happen because that’s how life works. There’s not always any rhyme or reason to its occurrences. That said, I also enjoy reflecting on how life shapes us.”

“I’m not sure you’re ever going to find someone who offers you that right balance of perception and candor,” Natty laughed. 

“Maybe you need to stop dating so many Ravenclaws,” Sebastian, who had been hanging onto their every word, chimed in.

“What’s wrong with Ravenclaws?” Emmeline demanded, turning to glare at him.

“They don’t match your sense of adventure,” Sebastian replied simply. “They’d rather bury their noses in books than use their wands.”

“Says the bloke who owns more books than anyone I know,” Emmeline said.

“There’s nothing wrong with a thirst for knowledge,” Sebastian said smoothly. “But what’s the point in all that knowledge if you aren’t going to apply it to the real world?”

Emmeline couldn’t argue with that. It was precisely why she and Sebastian had become best friends. He was smart, yet daring enough to keep her guessing. Sure, that recklessness had nearly destroyed their lives at one point, but Emmeline had been patient and understanding with Sebastian as he worked to repair his past mistakes. Since that fateful fifth year, he had proved to her that he was remorseful, and Emmeline’s fondness for her friend morphed into something much heavier.

But she would never admit that, nor did she want to discuss her dating history with him. Instead, she retreated to her best defense – the wit and snark that masked her fear of ever confessing her feelings.

“And what’s the point in having a girls’ night when you’re here?” she retorted.

Sebastian responded with a smirk. “You love me.”

“I’d love to murder you.”

“Murder?” Sebastian drawled. “Such violent thoughts from such a tiny, little thing. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Careful, Sallow,” Imelda laughed. “We’ve all seen what she can do to you in a duel.”

“And I went easy on you last time,” Emmeline added.

“You’re anything but easy,” Sebastian shot back. The room fell quiet, Emmeline’s eyes growing wide while Poppy’s mouth fell open. Sebastian regretted his words instantly, knowing damn well the girls would giggle about them and dissect them later. 

Imelda, ever the bold, mouthy one of the group, was the first to bark a laugh. “You two are something else,” she said, shaking her head. Emmeline also shook her head in an attempt to appear unbothered by Sebastian’s jeer.

“Say, I have an idea,” Anne said, her eyes carrying an impish gleam. “Let’s play a game. Sebastian, you can play too if you want, considering you’re practically one of the girls.”

“Hey now!”

The girls giggled but Sebastian made no attempt to leave the room. Instead, he finished drying the final dish – the same one he’d been “drying” for the past 20 minutes – and placed it away inside a cupboard, tossing the dish towel on the counter before he pulled a chair up to the table between Anne and Emmeline.

“Fine. Since you ladies clearly insist on my presence,” he said smoothly. “What’s the game?”

“Let’s play Never Have I Ever,” Anne said innocently. She flicked her wand, another bottle of firewhiskey sailing from a cabinet until it landed neatly on the table with a soft thud. Anne flashed a grin at the circle of friends. “We’re going to need this.

Part II: Never Have I Ever

“Never have I ever bailed on detention.”

“Poppy, have you even had detention?” Sebastian laughed. The group echoed him with a warm chuckle, a signal that the firewhiskey was in full effect.

“Precisely why I’ve never bailed on it,” Poppy said proudly.

Sebastian and Natty both drank from their glasses, sparking another round of giggles.

“Of course,” Anne mused. “Sebastian’s skipped more detentions than he’s snogged girls in broom cupboards, which is really saying something.”

“And how would you know about my broom cupboard escapades?” Sebastian demanded.

“I know everything,” Anne answered, gesturing to the ring of friends around them. “I have eyes and ears everywhere.”

“More like eyes and ears in the form of a certain quidditch captain,” Sebastian muttered, shooting a pointed glance at Imelda, who straightened in her chair with a smug smile.

“Someone has to keep your sister informed on your everyday life,” she said. “Merlin knows you’ve had enough extracurriculars to entertain us all.”

Emmeline was decidedly quiet throughout the exchange. Of course, she knew of Sebastian’s illicit activities. He had become the talk among most of the girls at Hogwarts, particularly since the start of their seventh year when it had become clear that Sebastian was more of a man than a boy. Now 18, Sebastian’s features were much more handsome than cute, though he still clung to his boyish charisma.

Though Emmeline wanted to fling herself from the top of the Astronomy Tower every time she heard a new rumor about Sebastian and his latest fling, she typically kept quiet on the matter. Despite all the secrets they shared, she and Sebastian rarely discussed their love lives. It was the one element of their lives they chose to keep from one another.

Imelda’s turn came next. “Never have I ever snogged someone in a broom cupboard,” she cackled.

Sebastian groaned and took a drink. So did Emmeline.

“Who have you been snogging, and in which broom cupboard?” Sebastian demanded, setting his glass down with an audible bang.

“What’s wrong, afraid all the good cupboards will be taken?” Emmeline teased. Sebastian glowered at her, much to her satisfaction. “You aren’t the only one with secrets, Sebastian Sallow.”

Anne was the only one who noticed how Sebastian’s jaw tightened. She smiled to herself as she realized it was her turn.

“Never have I ever wanted to snog my best friend,” she declared boldly.

Imelda snorted as Sebastian and Emmeline both froze, rather noticeably. Everyone else sat, their drink glasses untouched, leaving the pair to glance nervously toward one another. Finally, Emmeline sat back and folded her arms across her chest for emphasis. 

“No one?” Anne asked innocently. “Someone here must be lying.”

Emmeline averted her eyes while Sebastian stared at the table as if it had suddenly transformed into the most interesting book he’d ever read. The silence that settled over them roared with implication evident to everyone but Sebastian and Emmeline.

“Well, I suppose it’s my turn,” Sebastian finally said, shooting an annoyed glance at Anne who smiled innocently. Sebastian thought for a moment, his eyes flickering toward Emmeline for a fleeting second. “Never have I ever used Polyjuice to impersonate a headmaster.”

Emmeline gasped at his audacity, provoking a chortle from Sebastian. “I swore you to secrecy on that!” she hissed.

“It was two years ago, might as well have a good laugh about it now,” Sebastian said. He reached in front of Emmeline to nudge her drinking class closer to her. “Go on now, drink.”

Emmeline huffed at him before taking a sip. “Bastard,” she muttered before she was forced to recall the time she broke into Headmaster Black’s office. When she finished the story, she turned her head slowly toward Sebastian for emphasis. His gaze matched hers as he tried to appear unbothered, but Emmeline knew him too well. And he knew her too well, meaning he sensed payback was brewing.

She cleared her throat for dramatic effect. “Never have I ever worn my sister’s dress.”

The room paused in silent shock as the other girls processed Emmeline’s words. Finally, a burst of laughter erupted and Sebastian’s cheeks tinged red as he took a drink.

“That was one time!” he insisted, which only provoked more laughter from the girls. “I was drunk!”

Emmeline leaned back in her chair, her eyes glinting with satisfaction as Sebastian was forced to retell the time he drank too much the previous Christmas in Feldcroft and got into Anne’s wardrobe.

“In my defense, Ominis and Em were the ones egging me on,” Sebastian huffed.

“My only regret is not taking a photo to remember the moment,” Anne laughed. “Not that I could forget it if I tried.”

“Always knew you had a kinky side to you, Sallow,” Imelda teased.

The game carried on for several more rounds until the group’s drunken antics had Poppy slumping in her seat. She nearly toppled backward in a fit of giggles at something Imelda said, stirring concern from Sebastian and Emmeline, who were the most sober.

“Poppy!” Emmeline shouted as the chair tipped dangerously. “Maybe you should lie down for a bit.”

Sebastian checked his pocket watch. “It’s nearly two in the morning,” he said. “Perhaps we should all get some sleep.”

Emmeline nodded in agreement as she helped Poppy from the chair, using her wand to conjure five sleeping bags on the living room floor. 

“Oh, are you and Sebastian sharing a bag?” Imelda pestered. Emmeline rolled her eyes and eased Poppy to the floor to help her inside a sleeping bag. 

“As much as Sebastian would probably love nothing more than to sleep in a room surrounded by 18-year-old women, he has a room of his own,” Emmeline replied as Poppy curled up sleepily. 

“Wouldn’t want you ladies fighting over who gets to sleep next to me,” Sebastian drawled.

Imelda heaved a sound of disgust as she helped Natty, who was also quite inebriated, into a sleeping bag. 

“Emmeline, please do something about your boyfriend,” Imelda ordered.

“He’s not my boyfriend! He disgusts me just as much as you do!”

“Oh please, the two of you have been verbally edging each other all night. Get a room. Just make sure you use a silencing charm,” Imelda teased.

Sebastian chuckled at the girls and headed toward the staircase.

“Goodnight, my darlings!” he called before he disappeared up the stairs to retreat to his bedroom.

Emmeline slipped down the hallway to change into her pajamas before walking a lap around the cottage’s first floor, extinguishing the lights. She climbed into a sleeping bag next to Anne, who was just settling down herself.

“Thank you for planning this evening,” Anne said. Emmeline rolled onto her back, the dim cottage falling quiet except for Poppy’s light snoring.

“Of course,” Emmeline said. “I’m glad we got to have a fun girls’ night. Or girls’ night plus Sebastian.”

Anne giggled. “He just can’t help himself, can he?” she laughed. “Always has to be the center of attention.”

“I think he just likes to be included in things,” Emmeline noted, her voice falling quiet as her eyes scanned the ceiling, where she knew Sebastian was sleeping overhead. “Ever since you and Ominis let him back into your lives, he’s made it a point to spend time with you. Doesn’t want to take you for granted.”

“I know,” Anne replied softly. “I’m glad he’s worked so hard to change. And I’m glad he has you, you know. Maybe he doesn’t admit it, but you’re just as important to him as Ominis and me.”

Emmeline let out a gentle laugh. “I’ll continue to give him the dignity of believing I don’t know that. Even if the moron doesn’t deserve it.”

Anne giggled in acknowledgement. She listened to Imelda’s breathing change next to her, indicating she had also fallen asleep. 

“I really am glad you didn’t give up on him, after everything that happened, after what he did,” Anne said quietly. “I like to think your support was what kept him from breaking.”

“He’s a good person, one of the best I know,” Emmeline responded. “He shouldn’t have to spend the rest of his life paying for what he did when he knows how wrong it was. He deserved a second chance and I’m always going to support that.”

“He deserves a good punch in the face sometimes, too,” Anne muttered, drawing a giggle from Emmeline.

“That, he does,” she agreed. 

The pair allowed silence to settle over the room until Anne suddenly shivered.

“Are you cold?” Emmeline asked, sitting up to peer at Anne through the darkness.

“Just a little,” Anne replied. “It gets rather drafty in here.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to just sleep in your own room?” Emmeline asked. “I know you wanted to do the whole slumber party thing, but it seems silly for you to sleep here on the floor when you have a perfectly comfy bed upstairs.”

“It’s girls’ night,” Anne insisted. “I want to spend time with my best girl friends.”

“At least let me fetch you another blanket,” Emmeline said, rising to her feet.

“There’s one upstairs on my bed,” Anne answered. “Oh, and there’s a second one in the closet in Sebastian’s room.”

Emmeline paused. “You need both?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Anne replied innocently. Emmeline nodded and crept carefully, tiptoeing around the other sleeping girls toward the staircase.

She stopped in Anne’s bedroom at the top of the stairs first, gathering a quilt from the bed before continuing down the hallway toward the last door. It was slightly ajar but the lights were out, causing her to linger in hesitation.

She stood quietly, listening carefully for a sign that Sebastian was still awake. The only sound she could hear was the snores from the living room below.

“Sebastian?” she finally whispered as she gently shouldered the door open. She poked her head inside, squinting to peer at Sebastian. He was under the covers, seemingly fast asleep.

She tread quietly toward the closet door, where she found another quilt folded on the top shelf. She stood on her tiptoes to reach it and gently pulled it downward, tucking it beneath an arm.

Sebastian stirred quietly, but didn’t react. Emmeline retreated slowly toward the door, holding her breath as if any more noise would be disastrous.

Suddenly, one of the blankets caught beneath her foot and pulled as she stepped. Emmeline stumbled, her footsteps pounding loudly on the wood floors before she finally lost her balance and toppled over with a thud.

“Who’s there?!” Sebastian sat upright, one hand fumbling over the nightstand for his wand.

“Shh! It’s me! Sebastian, it’s me!” Emmeline hissed, still sprawled out on the floor.

“Em?”

“Yes!”

“What the hell are you doing in here?”

“I was getting another blanket for Anne!”

“And you entered my bedroom unannounced?”

“You were asleep!”

“What if I’d been doing something private?”

“Ew! Were you?”

“No! I was sleeping!”

“Then what’s it matter?”

“This is my bedroom!” Sebastian squinted through the darkness as he tried to make out Emmeline’s form. “Why are you on the floor?”

“I tripped.” Emmeline managed to untangle herself from the heap of blankets and climb to her feet as Sebastian found his wand. 

“Lumos!” The tip of his wand cast a warm light throughout the room, revealing Emmeline standing about three feet from the door. She couldn’t help but sneak a double-take as she realized Sebastian had been sleeping shirtless.

Sebastian swallowed. Emmeline’s pajamas revealed much more skin than he’d been accustomed to seeing from her, the neckline of her top dipping dangerously low across the tops of her breasts. He’d never seen her in her sleep attire before, their separate Hogwarts houses keeping them apart at night. Besides, whenever he pictured her in bed, she was wearing far, far less.

Meanwhile, Emmeline took in Sebastian’s tousled hair and sleepy eyes. She hated how enticing he looked, even in such a vulnerable state. 

“Uh, are you okay?” Sebastian finally asked.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Okay. Is everyone else asleep?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

As the room fell quiet, Emmeline willed her feet to move. Instead, she remained rooted to her spot, as if she were looking for a reason to linger.

Sebastian watched her curiously, his own brain searching for an excuse to keep her there. “Boy, Poppy’s quite the lightweight, isn’t she?” he finally said with a soft laugh.

“She sure is,” Emmeline giggled. “To be fair, she weighs about a fraction of the rest of us.”

“I didn’t realize she was so enamored by Prewett,” Sebastian continued. Emmeline shrugged.

“I suppose you learned quite a bit from crashing girls’ night, didn’t you?” she mused.

“Positively enlightened.”

“Anything you care to share with the class?”

Sebastian masked his hesitation with a smirk. Though he didn’t consider himself to be drunk, firewhiskey had never been his friend. He’d had a fair amount that evening and it was making it more difficult than ever to quell the tightness in chest that could only be traced back to Emmeline.

Seventh year would be over before they knew it and Sebastian feared their friendship would vanish too. Emmeline was set for a position within the Ministry of Magic’s Department of Mysteries, where she hoped to become an Unspeakable. Sebastian had a position laid out for him as a cursebreaker with Gringotts. He was excited for those possibilities but terrified adulthood would drive a wedge between him and the one person he couldn’t envision a life without.

“I didn’t realize you had such high demands for your romantic partners,” he finally teased.

Emmeline narrowed her eyes at him, her lips parting in shock. “I am not demanding!” she hissed. “You take that back!”

Sebastian sat back against the headboard of the bed with his arms crossed. “Point proven,” he said smugly.

A loud snore echoed through the cottage and Sebastian couldn’t help but bark a laugh. “Was that Poppy?” 

“I think that one was Imelda,” Emmeline replied as another snore cut through the room. “It’s going to be a long night.”

“Here,” Sebastian said, scooting to one side of the bed. “Just sleep here. I’ll cast a silencing charm to take care of the snoring.”

Emmeline’s hesitation was clear as she stood, her feet frozen in place as  Imelda’s earlier teasing came to mind. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to join Sebastian in bed – she had daydreamed of that particular scenario more than she’d ever admit – but it was the implication, the expectation, and most of all, the temptation of what it meant.

“Come on,” Sebastian said. “I don’t bite. Unless you’re into that sort of thing. Besides, it’s not really all that different from all the times you’ve slept on my shoulder while studying.”

But it was different, and Sebastian knew it. The two of them sharing a bed in his cottage, away from the confines of the Hogwarts castle and all its propriety, would absolutely be different – especially when he wasn’t sure how he could possibly keep his hands to himself when Emmeline was next to him looking like that .

“All right, fine,” Emmeline sighed, the spare quilts forgotten on the floor. She moved slowly toward the bed, sliding next to Sebastian who still had his wand lit.

“Silencio,” he said, the room falling dark and quiet. “There, that’s better.”

Emmeline nodded quietly as Sebastian tossed his wand back on the nightstand to settle in beneath the covers. She swallowed as she fought to maintain gentle and light breaths, her chest rising as her body betrayed her. She was certain Sebastian could hear her heartbeat hammering against her ribcage.

Next to her, Sebastian was having the same thoughts. He could smell her shampoo, light and floral, and if he moved any closer, his hand would brush the silkiness of her pajamas. He wondered how that fabric would compare to the softness of her skin, or dare he think it, the velvet feel of her…

“Sebastian?”

“Huh?” Sebastian was pulled from his sinful thoughts.

“I asked if you’re alright,” Emmeline said. “You seem to be breathing heavily.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just making sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. You know, other than the fact you’re hogging all the covers.”

“I am not!” Emmeline huffed. She shoved the blanket toward Sebastian who merely chuckled. “It’s not my fault it’s freezing in here,” she said.

“It’s nearly 21 degrees,” Sebastian pointed out. “It’s plenty warm.”

“Not for me.”

“Fine, come here.” Sebastian hooked an arm around Emmeline’s waist and pulled himself closer to her as he nestled against her back. He instantly melted into her, but could feel her shoulders shift as she tensed. “This okay?” he asked, worried he had crossed a line.

“Mmhm,” she answered sleepily. “That’s better. You’re nice and warm.”

Sebastian relaxed a little and could feel Emmeline’s body do the same, though she was hyper-aware of the way his hand rested gently against her waist.

“Emmeline?” Sebastian asked quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Anne’s right, you know.” His tone was soft yet serious enough that Emmeline couldn't help but lift her head slightly from the pillow to hear him better. “I overheard the two of you earlier. What she said about you being just as important to me as her and Ominis… she’s right.”

Emmeline held her breath as he spoke and carefully mulled over a response. This was precisely what she had meant earlier when she said she wanted a romantic partner who could share meaningful conversations with her. Sebastian could be impulsive, even reckless at times, but he wore his heart on his sleeve and didn’t shy from saying how he really felt, even if it made him vulnerable to her. She always liked that about him.

“Well,” Emmeline started after drawing a shaky breath. “Despite your obnoxious eavesdropping, I meant what I said, too. You did deserve a second chance. You’re a good person and I’ll never stop having your back.”

Sebastian nuzzled the back of her neck gently, a bold move that made Emmeline’s breath hitch. “I like having your back for a change,” he murmured. He knew he was potentially risking everything – their friendship and her trust, but years of longing and suppression had become too unbearable to endure any further for him. He had to know if he stood even the slightest chance at the rare privilege it would be to touch her.

“You sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable in a broom cupboard?” she quipped.

“Sounds like I’m not the only one who finds them rather cozy,” he murmured into her ear, his breath warm against her skin. 

Emmeline knew him too well. She could sense the push in his voice, testing her to see how she’d react and how far she was willing to let him go. She decided that enough was enough – she had been drained by the past few years she’d spent practicing poise and self-control when it came to him, stifling all her impulses and redirecting her feelings to boys who would never measure up. If Sebastian was going to tempt her, she was going to ace his tests.

She whipped her body around so that she was facing him, startling Sebastian who tensed. She could feel it in the way he was subconsciously gripping her hip.

“Just curious,” she cooed softly. “Which broom cupboard is your favorite? Is it the one in the dungeons near the Slytherin Common Room? Seems like you might appreciate the convenience in location. I find that one a bit too snug to move around in, though. Perhaps you’re more of a fan of the cupboard in the North Hall, near the History of Magic classroom? That one’s nice and secluded, especially if you make a lot of noise.”

“Emmeline,” Sebastian warned.

“Personally, I think my favorite’s the little room in the Clock Tower Entrance,” Emmeline continued. “Ever been in that one? I showed that one to Amit after Crossed Wands once – we spent a good hour in there, but I don’t think he appreciated it as much as I did.”

Sebastian had to grit his teeth. He didn’t want to think about her doing those things with someone else, but the notion that she was willing and capable of them made him tense, particularly below the waist.

“So which is it?” Emmeline pressed. “Which is your favorite?”

“I like the one off the Reception Hall, near the kitchens,” Sebastian replied through clenched teeth. “Easy to get to and convenient if you work up an appetite.”

Emmeline’s eyes widened at his remark but her lips formed a seductive smirk. “Oh, I wasn’t aware of that one,” she purred innocently. “Perhaps someone will show me someday.”

“Perhaps.”

“Is it spacious? I don’t like when I have to stand the entire time.”

Sebastian sucked in a sharp breath. “Merlin, Emmeline. You’re killing me.”

“Whatever do you mean, Seb?” Emmeline asked, still feigning naivety.

“Stop making this so hard on me.”

Emmeline shifted, her hips pressing gently against Sebastian’s. “Oh, you weren’t kidding about the hard part.”

“I’m going to hex you.” Sebastian growled.

“Fine. Just wait until we’re done and make it worth my while.”

Sebastian was certain he had to be dreaming. Emmeline – his Emmeline, was practically throwing herself at him, daring him to take a chance. And Sebastian was a true Slytherin – ambitious, cunning and determined to get the things he wanted. He didn’t let chances escape his grasp.

He kissed her. He could feel the breath of air she sucked in through her nose when their lips met, her eyes fluttering shut as she returned it. Sebastian wasn’t sure what this would all mean come morning, but the hunger in her kisses made it clear that she wasn’t in the mood to worry about it.

Bed sheets rustled and hands grabbed at whatever skin was exposed. Hearts raced as both realized they were about to satiate their biggest fantasy. Sebastian’s hands roamed beneath Emmeline’s top, brushing over her stomach and down her sides until his fingers found the hem. He pulled away, his eyes heavy as he tugged the shirt upward. His lips found her neck, drawing a soft moan from her. 

“Seems I’ve found a sensitive spot,” he murmured against her skin. He left a trail of kisses from her neck to her collarbone, ending between her breasts.

The darkness made it difficult for Emmeline to see much, but she could certainly feel. Sebastian’s hands were everywhere, yet it still wasn’t enough for her. As she rolled onto her back, Sebastian paused to kiss her again, sparking more impatience from her. She could feel the familiar swell of heat that only happened when she thought of Sebastian late at night, alone in her bed, her own fingers forced to mimic Sebastian’s.

Emmeline lifted her hips as Sebastian tugged her bottoms off, followed by her panties. She silently praised whatever higher power was responsible for Sebastian’s impatience too.

Sebastian’s fingers dragged between her thighs, over her slick entrance. The moment was fleeting and she whimpered a plea for more. Sebastian obliged her as his index and middle finger made contact with her core again. He rubbed her until her breath became a heavy pant and her hips rocked upward demanding more. 

A loud moan carried through the room as Sebastian’s fingers disappeared inside her, the wetness immediately coating them. He curled a finger and Emmeline gasped, her submission making his cock stir.

“Fuck, Em. You’re so fucking perfect,” Sebastian whispered, his eyes roaming her body in the moonlight that poured through the window. 

“And you’re… overdressed.”

Sebastian flashed a smirk and moved to remove his own remaining garments, kneeling over Emmeline once he was rid of them. Emmeline couldn’t help but stare at his form. He was fully erect, the length of his cock proudly anticipating her touch.

She wasn’t sure how she was going to take all of it, but she was damn sure she’d die trying.

A groan escaped Sebastian’s lips as Emmeline gently took him in her hand, gently tracing from the base to his tip. He twitched, his arousal unlike any he’d experienced.

“Emmeline,” he breathed as her mouth engulfed him. He could feel her tongue flatten against his shaft, slowly running over every vein and ridge with deliberation. “Emmeline,” he repeated, his eyes squeezed shut. The sight alone of her lips wrapped around him was enough to nudge him to the edge. “I don’t think I can take it.” 

He hated that confession. As much as he loved this girl and would willingly follow any order she asked of him, his pride remained firm. He didn’t want her to think he was incapable of pleasing her, of lasting long enough to ensure she was good and finished. But this moment, this feeling, had consumed his free thoughts for so long, there was no way he could remain composed much longer.

Emmeline removed her mouth from him, her smirk indicating the satisfaction she felt from the power she clearly held over him.

“You may not be able to take it,” she said, eyeing his cock pointedly, “But I can.”

Sebastian decided she was going to be the death of him, but at least he’d die a happy man.

Emmeline straightened up to rest back on her heels, her eyes maintaining their challenging gaze. “What do you want me to do to you?” she asked, her voice husky with desire.

Sebastian chewed at the inside of his cheek. No girl had ever asked him that. It made his cock pulse. “I want you to do whatever’s going to make you moan my name,” he replied.

Emmeline couldn’t believe she was lucky enough to exist in the same world as Sebastian Sallow. 

“On your back,” she ordered. Sebastian, who typically preferred to be the assertive and dominant party in such situations, obliged. He was too eager to please, and to discover that sweet, supreme moment when she’d cry out his name and show him how she looked when she experienced ultimate pleasure.

As she climbed over him, her legs straddling either side of his torso, his hands snapped instinctively to her hips. His fingers gripped her tightly, drawing a shaky laugh from her. 

“Careful,” she mewed as she positioned herself above him. “Can’t have you leaving any marks.”

Before Sebastian could form a smart reply, her wet heat met the tip of his cock as she lined him up against her entrance.

“Fucking hell.” Sebastian exhaled slowly, his jaw and eyes clenched tight as he welcomed the feeling of her warmth stretching around him. She seemed to be moving at a glacial pace as she eased herself downward. 

“God, Sebastian,” Emmeline breathed. She had to still herself for a moment, her open palms resting against his bare chest as she stretched to accommodate him. She rocked backward slightly to straighten upward, the tiny movement forcing Sebastian to swallow.

“I love you,” he blurted out. If it hadn’t been for the absolute ecstasy currently coursing through his cock, he would have Avada Kedavra’d himself on the spot. Leave it up to him to say something so utterly stupid during the most exciting moment of his life.

Emmeline paused, her eyes wide with disbelief as her gaze met Sebastian’s.

“Really?” she asked.

There was no going back now. “Of course,” Sebastian replied, annoyed at himself for provoking a life-altering conversation mid-sex. “Hasn’t exactly been a secret these past few years.”

“Oh.” Emmeline held her position, stunned at the revelation, though the feeling of Sebastian lingering inside her was difficult to ignore for long. “Well, I love you too,” she finally said. “But given how I covered up a murder for you, stuck by you for two years and threw myself at you tonight, that shouldn’t be a secret either.”

“...Oh. Well when you put it that way…”

“Yeah.”

“Guess I should have told you then, huh?”

“Would’ve saved us both a lot of trouble, it seems.”

“Sure would have.”

“Hey, Sebastian?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we have this conversation later? As thrilled as I am to hear you finally confess your love for me, I’m going to spontaneously combust if you don’t shut up and fuck me.”

“Oh. Right.”

They shared a quiet laugh, but Emmeline’s eyes quickly darkened as her thoughts returned to a sinful state, the feeling of Sebastian’s tip pressing against the soft flesh inside her.

She moved slowly at first, rocking her hips up and down to ensure she’d found the spot. The moan that fell from her lips confirmed it, and Sebastian’s grip remained rigid on the flesh of her hip bones as if it were steadying him.

In truth, he was desperately fighting his own body’s response to the euphoric feeling Emmeline was creating for him. 

“Feels so good,” she panted as her pace quickened. Her eyes fluttered shut so she could focus on the sensations, which were building an inevitable wave of pleasure in her walls.

Sebastian could feel her wetness pooling at the base of his cock, her slick cunt gripping his shaft as she moved up and down. He wanted to move more, to show her how capable he was in the bedroom, but he was fearful he’d fuck himself into an embarrassing moment. He wanted to prove to her he was worthy of this privilege.

As Emmeline lifted herself upward again, Sebastian forced his own hips upward, evoking a surprised moan from her. He slammed himself inside her again, causing her to hover over him so that he could control their movements. He fucked her with determination, his cock railing against the spot that threatened to unravel her.

She could feel it building, sensed it ballooning in the form of a tiny twitch that would soon erupt into a full convulsion. “Don’t stop,” she begged through ragged breaths, her head tossed backward as the force of Sebastian’s thrusts made her breasts bounce.

“Sebastian, I’m going to-” She couldn’t complete the sentence as she heaved a cry, all of her weight settling down as she collapsed around Sebastian’s cock, her orgasm pulsating around him.

The sensation was new territory for Sebastian, her walls beckoning him with their quaking until a familiar throbbing coursed through his cock.

He released himself inside her with a grunt, the sensation prolonged as she continued to bounce on him to ensure they both were fucked to completion. When he had no more to spill, Emmeline stopped, her full weight still on top of him as she recovered.

“Bloody hell,” Sebastian breathed as the room returned to focus, the moonlight shifting from blurred lines to a sharp focus that shined a spotlight on Emmeline’s body still perched on top of him.

“All right?” Emmeline asked, her chest rising and falling as she panted.

“Never better.”

Emmeline managed to breathe a laugh before she climbed off of Sebastian, returning to her sleeping spot next to him.

Sebastian pulled her close so that he could appreciate the feeling of her sweaty skin, sticky yet warm.

“We should have girls’ night more often,” he mumbled happily.

In the living room beneath them, Anne pulled a blanket around herself, smiling as she drifted off to sleep.