#in hopes that he would one day take over the business

[peanutpinet]

Biased - Sylus x Innocent Fem Reader (Under My Care Pt. 2)

Request: Can we have a part 2 where Innocent MC accidentally interrupting a meeting because she was exited about something and really wanted to tell Sylus? ( It can be simply as she got him a special crow plush or she won something but Sylus and the twins forgot to tell her about the meeting?)

A/N: some have been requesting a pt. 2 of Under My Care and one of you made a specific request about it. Just a lil fluff I decided to post for those who are looking for more Sylus fluff. I hope that this fic brightens up your day 🥰

Disclaimer: I do not own the images nor the characters or you (the MC). All images were taken from Pinterest and credit goes to the image's respective owners.

Warnings: fluff, slightly aggressive Sylus (not towards you, his men lmao), possessive and protective Slyus (not in a bad way)

After months of dating Sylus, he finally brought you to his penthouse at the N109 zone. Ever since the night when some of Sylus’ business partners barged into your dinner date, Sylus has shared more secrets of himself with you. But to Sylus’ surprise, you weren’t scared of him. You weren’t scared at the fact that he was the leader of a notorious bad group of people, the number one most wanted person in the N109 zone, the man who everyone practically feared.

Because to you, he’s just Sylus. He’s your first boyfriend and the first ever person to accept you for who you are. To not push your boundaries and be willing to do whatever it is that you enjoy. Knowing that you didn’t care about his title, money, or status made Sylus love you even more.

He would occasionally take you to his penthouse to stay over the weekend before bringing you back to Linkon, where you worked at a local bakery. He would also send you gifts and souvenirs whenever he was travelling. No matter where he was, or what time it was, Sylus would always be there whenever you needed him.

You suddenly got your period and want to cuddle with him? During your phone call, Sylus had teleported himself outside of your room. You wanted to visit a certain country? Sylus would immediately prepare his private jet and take you there, buying you all the things that your eyes lingered on. You want to try new hobbies? Sylus would pay for your lessons. All he asked is for you to stay by him which you had always done since the beginning.

This week, you had the whole week off and decided to stay with Sylus for the whole week which Sylus would tease about is; saying it was practice for when you two get married and settle down together. Despite your good baking and cooking skills, Sylus would still do most of the cooking. As for housework, you tried to be sneaky and do it while Sylus was in a meeting or something but Sylus would always know. He had Mephisto keep an eye on you and when he saw the chance, Sylus would immediately teleport behind you, wrapping his large hands around your waist, having a playful debate before finally coming to a middle ground and doing the housework together.

Today, however, you were determined to impress Sylus. You told Sylus that you wanted to head into town for a moment just to go to the grocery shop. But when you didn’t see him anywhere, you thought that this was the perfect chance to actually surprise him. But first, you tried to find Mephisto because you knew that even if you couldn’t find Sylus, he would always remind you to either text him or at least bring Mephisto with you.

Once you found Mephisto, you invited the mechanical bird who has taken a liking in you and texted Sylus before heading to the nearby grocery shop. You walked to the grocery store with Mephisto sitting on your shoulder, accompanying you as you stroll through the aisle, putting fresh produce, several baking materials, and snacks in your shopping cart.

After paying for the groceries with Sylus’ card; because the man hid your wallet whenever you came to visit him and would always put one of his cards in your wallet. You and Mephisto walked back to the penthouse where you started to prepare a feast for Sylus and the twins, Luke and Kieran.

Aside from Mephisto, you also bonded with the twins, Luke and Kieran, very well. They would often accompany you if Sylus were to have a sudden meeting or if you were bored but the twins were free and it ended up with the three of you playing kitty cards.

But again, today, it was just you and Mephisto. Even though the mechanical bird couldn’t talk, you kept on talking with it and even asked him to help take some ingredients for you as you cooked while you wait for your baked goods in the oven.

You decided to make some of Sylus’ favourite food which were braised beef with a side dish of sauteed vegetables along with some baked good which were brownies and chocolate chip cookies.

Once both the food you cooked and baked goods were done, you decided to plate them neatly and decided to search for Sylus in the penthouse because you know that when Sylus was out, he would always text you but because he didn’t, you were certain he was still in the penthouse.

After sometime, you finally heard Sylus’ voice, excitement surged through you as you barged into the room without thinking, expressing your happiness for making Sylus’ favourite food and some sweet treats for him and the twins.

“Sy, Luke, Kieran, I made lunch and some sweet and…” you exclaimed but didn’t even get to finish as you saw the situation in the room

Sylus was sitting in his chair with Luke and Kieran standing to either side of him, the entire room was filled with men who all wore black just like Luke and Kieran were. They didn’t looked like bodyguards, some were older than others, and you could tell that they were in an important meeting which reminded you of the time where Sylus’ business partner first barged in during your dinner date.

As if Sylus was able to read your mind without his aether core, Sylus immediately called out to you before anyone else could speak of something. “Hi sweetie, c’mere. Show me what you made for me and the twins, hmm?”

Sylus could sense your uncertainty with being watched by everyone in the room whom you didn’t know and honestly it was getting on his nerves because he could see how some of the men were eyeing you like you were a sweet treat.

“If any of you eye her or think about her in any way that displeases me, I’ll have to have an additional talk with you all. Personally” Sylus threatened as he motioned you to come closer to him. “It’s okay sweetie, come here”

You then started to walk cautiously towards Sylus who welcomed you with open arms and helped you sit on his lap as you held the lunch you made for him and the twins. “It’s okay sweetie, you weren’t disturbing anything too serious, hmm” Sylus gently held your chin between his fingers, rubbing it lovingly

You tried your best to seem like you’re okay and nodded towards Sylus who still wasn’t convinced but he didn’t want to push you too far. “Okay, sweetie. Let me wrap up this meeting real quick for you, yeah?”

Sylus kissed the top of your head before letting you lean on his broad chest as he quickly wrapped up the meeting which has gone for over half of the day. By the end of the meeting, Sylus managed to scare everyone in the room except the twins and you who immediately scurried out of the meeting room, not even daring to see Sylus’ eyes or look at you at all.

By the time everyone left, it was just you, Sylus, and the twins in the room. “So, what did you make for us, sweetie?”

Before you could show Sylus, the twins spoke up, apologising for not remembering to tell me that Sylus had a meeting. “We’re sorry boss and miss. We forgot to tell you about the meeting”

You looked at the twins and back at Sylus, worried that the twins were going to get scolded for forgetting but to your surprise, Sylus seemed unfazed and he dismissed the twins’ apology. “It happens. We were all busy. You both were with me during the meeting. I’m not mad that you both forgot or that (y/n) here suddenly came in. I’m more pissed that those fuckers had the audacity to look at her the way they did just now”

“Y-you’re not angry I, I suddenly came into your meeting?” you asked quietly and Sylus looked at you with a smirk, his eyes seemed to be hypnotised by the sight of you looking ever so small in his lap

“How could I ever be angry at you, sweetie? In fact, I much rather you interrupt any boring meeting I have and even accompany me if you’d like. I always love you being close to me and even sit on my lap like this” Sylus smirked, kissing the side of your temple

“You’re so biased, sy. What would your business partners or other men think?” you giggled as Sylus smiled and littered your face with kisses

“Let them see that I’m biased because nothing else matters” Sylus smiled, hugging you closer

“Alright miss, why don’t you just hand us our portion of food you prepared so we can leave the two of you alone” Luke stated making everyone in the room laugh

A/N: if you have any specific requests for Sylus do send me a request or message so I can refer back easily. Thank you for reading and have a great day :) xoxo peanutpinet

[natsukishinomiyaswife]

Nighttime Pondering (Part One)

Hello ♡ I told my friend @offorestsongs that I would write the fluffiest thing I could think of, fluffy enough to make him fall in love with his favorite character all over again! I decided to write something not only for him, but for some of my other mutuals as well ♡ Please note that no pronouns are used for the Reader! Enjoy ♡

Featured characters: Rook, Ruggie, Jamil

Scenario Introduction:

He loves you, adores you more than anything in the world. He makes you feel safe, loved, and protected. On nights when he's busy, coming home to see your sleeping figure instantly brings him a sense of peace. His body relaxes, his mind clears, and his focus is entirely on you.

The peaceful look on your face, moonlight coming through the curtains illuminating your figure. The slow rise and fall of your chest, the sound of your breath breaking the silence of the night. He loves these moments more than anything, more than you'd ever know. So he lays there beside you, watching with adoration as his thoughts consume him, thinking just how lucky he was to have you ♡

Rook Hunt (@offorestsongs)

♡ Adoration, devotion ♡

He's careful as he enters the room, doing his best to leave you undisturbed. Like a hunter stalking his prey he's silent, quietly making his way to the bed. He changes slowly, putting on his pajamas while taking peaks of your face, looking over his shoulder with a smile.

Instead of joining you in bed, he walks over to your side, sitting on his knees on the floor. He gazes at your features fondly, gently moving stray pieces of hair from your face. You looked so relaxed, so serene, like a work of art come to life. His elbows rest on the bed as he leans closer, looking down at you in adoration. He could hardly believe he was yours, running his hand gently down your cheek. His thumb brushes against your features, as if he were tracing them, committing each one to memory.

If he wasn't careful, he'd spend the night staring at you rather than sleeping, something you've scolded him about in the past. He couldn't help it though, placing a hand on your chest to feel the gentle beat of your heart. It was calm under his palm, a beautiful beat that he adored, just as beautiful as you.

He takes a few minutes more savoring it, the sight of you only he gets to see, the heart that cares for him as much as it beats. Reluctantly he gets up, moving to the other side to get into bed. His arms circle your waist, legs tangling with yours as his face presses against your hair. His hand finds yours, fingers slotting together like a puzzle, like it was meant to be. He can smell your shampoo, the body wash you're fond of, a scent that's distinctly you. He savors it as his eyes close, already picturing what the morning would be like. Waking up to see you lying there, your eyes half lidded as you greeted him drowsily.

He couldn't wait to see it ♡

Ruggie Bucchi (@midnightmah07, @nicoliharu)

♡ Restless, too good to be true ♡

He enters the room with a yawn, exhausted after a long day's work. Working multiple jobs is never easy, the paychecks he'll get in return being his sole motivation. There was a sense of satisfaction that came with hard work, yet no matter how much money he made, it was never enough. It would never be enough, at least to him.

Not until he can give himself, his grandmother, the kids back home, and you... a better life. He looks toward where you were in bed, fast asleep in his worn sheets. It was hard to believe you fell for him at times, that you even loved him at all, hidden insecurities plaguing his mind.

He knew he wasn't the best boyfriend, unable to spoil you with gifts or fancy dates. He worked all the time in the hopes of making money, or took things whenever the opportunity arises. Yet, you stayed with him, even when he teased and stole your belongings, longing to catch your eye.

It made him feel restless, knowing you were too good to be true. That you were too good for him, far more valuable than anything he's ever had. How many people have you rejected, just to be with him? People who could shower you with love, with devotion and time. Yet here you were with a hyena from the slums, who couldn't give you the life you deserve...

He shakes the thought from his mind, refusing to let it linger. The important thing was that you chose him, him, out of everyone else. And while his money was limited, he gave you what he could, willing to share whatever he had. Finally he moved to join you in bed, taking a moment to make himself comfortable.

That was his love, his devotion, he gave it all to you. He turned to look at you more closely, grinning at the silly expression on your face. You were completely relaxed, deep in sleep without a care in the world. Wearing the comfortable pajamas you loved so much, your hair sticking up around your pillow. And yet you couldn't have looked more lovely to Ruggie, the hyena pulling you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You were worth more than any amount of money, any treasure, anything he could ever own ♡

Jamil Viper (@crystallizsch, @anbaisai, @viperbunnies, @cheerleaderman, @0honeybones0, @fell-e)

♡ Indulgence, allowing himself to be selfish ♡

He enters the room with a sigh, letting the quiet of the night wash over him. He was glad to be alone now, or at least, with his thoughts, gazing at you from across the room. It was hard to make out your expression from where he stood, your face resting on one of the pillows scattered on his bed. You looked comfortable, curled up in the blankets as you slept peacefully.

Walking closer he realizes you're wearing one of his sweaters, his heart picking up at the sight. Though he would never say it, his clothes suited you, enjoying whenever you would wear something that was his. It was as if you were showing him off, like you were proud to be his, proud to be with a Viper.

He uses his magic to take down his hair, careful not to disturb you as he did his nightly routine. It was a shame he's been so busy recently, unable to do your hair like he used to. While he wouldn't do it often, he enjoyed the intimacy of it, using his hands to carefully put your hair up. Whether it be with a braid, or a bun, or a ponytail. Just being able to do something for you, something he could easily brush off if needed.

He constantly fought with his feelings for you, wanting to deny them and yet... longing to indulge himself, to be selfish just this once. But habits are hard to break, and while you were together, he still found himself pushing his feelings away, unable to fully give himself to you.

Just how long were you willing to put up with this? This dance he did, pulling you in while moving back, leaving you right where you were before. He walked over to where you lay, gazing down at you in his pajamas. If you were awake, you would see the conflict in his eyes, the longing he tried to mask.

You were his and yet... you weren't, were you? Not really, not until he let himself have this. Let himself have these feelings, this love he refused to call love, this longing he tried to push down. He rests his hand on your cheek, soaking in the softness of your features.

Here in the dark, while you rested unaware, he let's his feelings wash over him, the eyes of others no longer resting on his back. His affection, his adoration, his love and longing for you.

He stares at your face and he indulges, tracing your features, pressing a kiss to your brow. There was no one better suited for you than him, no one who could love you as much. So stay with him, won't you? Even when he pushes, and denies, and distances himself.

There is no one for him but you, no one he wants but you.

It will always be you ♡

I hope you enjoyed! ♡ I broke this up into parts since it was getting long lol ♡

Part two will have Jack (for @skriblee-ksk), Azul (for @oya-oya-okay), and Lilia (cause I had an idea for him lol ♡) There may also be a part three depending on how people enjoy this idea ♡

Thank you! ♡

[fairlyang]

thinking of stranger!miguel accidentally catching pornstar!reader masturbating in her car

you had been meaning to film this type of video for a long while now but never able to get one of your sex worker friends to help you be a stranger that helps you out due to different schedules.

alas you decided to do it and risk an actual person finding you and secretly hoping that they do help you.

your camera was already set and rolling with you in the driver's seat, right leg over the center console and right hand rubbing your clit. you were looking right at the camera as you moaned and played with your tits with your other hand.

the dress you were wearing was above your stomach and you teasingly would bring the fabric from your tits down, just to barely see your nipples only to leave it as is.

you could feel a slight breeze since you left the tinted window a bit down in case any perv had the urge to take a peek inside. you were already playing for a good ten minutes, edging yourself just praying someone would not only walk by but also help.

a couple people have walked past, not seeing or hearing you but it did bring some excitement as you watched them. you were starting to grow impatient so maybe it’d be a shorter video for the channel.

meanwhile, miguel was coming back from taking a jog at his usual trail and was on his way back home. he did more than usual so he just walked back when he suddenly walked past a car and heard a moan.

he stopped in his tracks and couldn’t help but look into the small opening just to see you fingering yourself with your eyes closed. his eyes were wide and he couldn’t believe the sight.

this was something straight out of a porno and although you didn’t see him, the camera sure did.

his head was out of frame and the black wife beater was stuck to his skin. his arms were out and that was all the camera would be able to see of him.

his breath shortened and he gulped, absolutely shocked he’d be able to witness something so dirty but also hot. and by a gorgeous girl too?

he’d have to get a lottery ticket after this.

he straightened up and thought of what he should do. realistically he knew what he wanted to do but he was a complete stranger, maybe it was too much.

…

but then again there wouldn’t be another opportunity like this.

he watched you for a few more seconds, admiring the way your tits bounced while you fucked yourself harder. finally he made his move. he cleared his throat and lightly tapped on the window making you gasp and turn your head to the left to see a handsome man looking at you.

hopefully it was your lucky day.

“are you alright?” he asks and you quickly nod, “i am now..”

his cheeks grow warm and he’s not sure what to do next. you give him a smile and decide to go for it, “i’m filming a video and was hoping i’d get lucky enough to get some help…”

“do you wanna help me?” you ask, looking directly into his eyes as he just nods.

you pushed the button and made the window go all the way down then reach for his right arm. he reaches inside, getting as close to your car while you guide his hand to your tits. you pulled the top of the dress down, exposing your tits to him then made him touch them.

he squeezed the right one first making you moan because another persons hand would always be better than your own. he went to the other one and squeezed your nipple gently, you spread your legs a bit more just so he could have enough space.

he was too busy groping your tits to notice, at least that was until you pulled his arm up to your face. you grabbed his wrist and slipped two fingers into your mouth, sucking on them with your eyes boring into his while you made sure they were nice and wet.

you pulled them out with a plop and quickly brought his arm down between your legs and he slipped them inside without hesitation. he moved slowly, giving you time to get use to it while you you moaned and held onto his arm to urge him to do more. he took notice and went deeper, your slippery walls entrapping them while he set a fast pace for you.

“oh f-fuck- yes!” you moaned and bucked your hips up. his fingers were much thicker than yours, actually able to stretch you out unlike your own. it was just what you needed.

miguel was watching the way your pussy just took his fingers in, your wetness already dripping down when he’s only just started. what he didn’t know was you’ve been edging and just having a complete stranger do this could make you cum at any second.

you held onto his arm, holding on tightly as he pumped them faster and harder making you a moaning mess for him. he felt his shorts become tighter and he knew he was done for.

“you like that baby?” he murmurs and you quickly nod with a slight pout on your lips.

your brain was already mush, not actually thinking one of your fantasies would come true but happy they did with someone so fine. and the fact that he knew what he was doing was the cherry on top.

“such a dirty girl huh? playing with yourself in public like this?” he murmured and you clenched against his fingers.

you whimpered and laid your head to the side by the seatbelt while he continued, “so fucking wet too, you really wanted this to happen didnt you, baby?”

you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak as you felt a knot form in your stomach. you let go of his arm and brought your right hand to quickly rub your clit, feeling the strong urge to squirt, knowing you should stop but it’d feel so good.

“that’s it baby, such a good girl. gonna cum for me? just gonna cum for a stranger?” he murmured lowly, able to feel you squeeze and just watching your body contort in pleasure.

“fuck- p-please don’t stop-“ you whimpered out and felt your legs start to shake.

“i’ve got you gorgeous, come on give it to me.” he purred and that did it for you.

you cried out as your juices quickly came out of you, he slipped his fingers out and replaced yours on your clit so he could make sure every drop comes out. you whimpered and moaned as he went from rubbing your clit fast as you reached your climax to suddenly slow when nothing else came out.

he stopped and left his hand on your thigh, murmuring sweet praises as you calmed yourself down and closed your legs. you closed your eyes, deciding that if you didn’t look at the disaster then it simply wasn’t there. not only are you too tired to clean it all up, you were in absolute shock that actually happened.

your breathing was steady again and you opened your eyes, turning to look out the window and at him. he really was gorgeous and if you weren’t so beat you’d offer to suck him off in the backseat but you were exhausted.

“thank you, stranger. gonna have to make a rain check on when i can make it up to you…” you say and he chuckles.

he shrugs and gives you a smile, “there’s really no need. can’t deny a pretty girl when she needs help.”

you grinned and shrugged, turning to open your center console, grabbing a business card and then handing it to him, “well if you change your mind…”

he grabbed it and nodding as he put it in his pocket, “i’ll let you know.”

he gave you one final smile before walking the way he was going before he stopped, now having to do the walk of shame with a hard on and wet fingers.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Heelllooooooo!!!

It's been a while since I've requested.. life got busy, and I am glad to be bavk on here..

Catching up on my favorite writers stories!!!

I seen your post about wanting steddie requestsssss

So I had a steddiexreader request...

So I'm a bigger girl, and my bestie just showed me that I CAN wear fish nets.. (we did a spooky ghost photo shoot)

And I instantly thought of reader showing Steddie or surprising them with a COMPLETE wardrobe change, going from sweat pants/baggy shirts to short dresses, fish nets, heels, or rocker themed outfits, leather skirts, cropped(?) band tees (because I love seeing it on other bigger girls but I can't get myself to wear it)

Just a complete change in attitude and self love even though she is still slightly self conscious on how she looks.. and they both lose their mindssss

Smut welcomed because obviously

🫡

First off, I just wanna say fuck yes!! As a chubby girl myself, I also love seeing women who look like me wearing whatever the fuck they want! I love writing about women who look more like me and the characters I love loving on them because they deserve it! I’ve been so excited to write this request so thank you so much for sending it in!

cw: MDNI (18+) oral (f receiving) nipple play, body worship, body insecurity

You sit on the bed in your robe, hoping that it covers your outfit well. You’re planning on surprising your boyfriends when they come home from work. It was as if a switch had flipped and you had taken a few days while they were at work to completely change your wardrobe. And you hadn’t done it for them, it was purely for you as you had suddenly gotten a boost of confidence. Gone were the baggy clothes as they were replaced with cropped band tees, leather skirts, and tight dresses like the one you’re wearing that was accompanied by a pair of fishnet tights that Robin had convinced you to buy. 

And while you weren’t doing it for the boys, you were still intending on surprising them with the intention of getting them to show you just how hot they thought you were. Even if they did that all the time. They are both very aware of your insecurity and try their best to make it known just how much they love you for who you are.

You hear the front door unlock and put yourself in what you think is a sexy position, waiting for them to come into the room. The door opens and both Eddie and Steve stare at you as you lay on your side, your hand slowly trailing to where the robe was tied. 

“What is going on here?” Steve asks as steps closer, taking your hands in his hand, helping you to your feet. 

“Yeah, sweetheart, what are you hiding under that robe?” Eddie asks, moving to the other side of you. You open the robe quickly and both men gasp as they take in the skin tight black number you’ve got on. It’s lacy, so much so that they can see through every inch. The bra that you’re wearing and that little black thong that’s doing things to them. 

“Jesus,” is all Steve is able to say as a gasp leaves his lips. 

“Fuck,” Eddie adds. “Sweetheart, you look-” he cuts himself off and you’re quick to close the robe back as you throw yourself onto the bed, wanting it to swallow you up. You can’t believe you actually thought it would work. 

“I feel so fucking stupid,” you say into the pillow loud enough for both of the to hear and they’re quick to sit on either side of you, Eddie rubbing your back while Steve strokes your hair, moving it away from your face. 

“Honey, you’re not stupid,” he says softly and you turn your head to his side so he can see you. 

“So you don’t think I look ridiculous?” You ask, your voice small. 

“Not at all,” he shakes his head. “You look fucking hot. I mean, you always do, but this little thing? Wow.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees. “Fuck, doll,” he groans and you turn onto your back as Eddie leans over, his lips right by your ear. “The thing we’d do to you.” 

Your cheeks flush at his comment and you lie flat, deciding to take him up off his offer. You look up at both of them as they stare down at you, wondering how you’ve gotten so lucky as to have both of them as your boyfriends. They love you for who you are and you don’t know why you get so insecure around them sometimes. They have proved their love to you time and time again and you don’t know why it’s so hard to believe them when it’s clear that they’re telling the truth.

Steve is the first to lean in, pressing a kiss to your lips and you’re quick to respond, your hand moving to the back of his head. It slips into his hair and you’re pulling at it as his tongue slides into your mouth, causing you to moan. Eddie is on your left, his mouth pressing to your neck, giving it a rough suck that causes you to gasp and he just chuckles. And once you’re moaning, the two of them move lower to your chest, trying to remove your dress and you have to talk them through it because of how complicated it is. 

Steve and Eddie manage to get the dress off of you and Eddie tosses it to the side before the two of them bring their mouths to your tits, one for each of them. Their tongues are swirling around your nipples and you swear you’re going to have an orgasm right there. 

“So pretty, baby,” Steve murmurs against your skin. He’s always so complimentary and it never fails to make you feel better about yourself. His tone is gentle and you know he means what he’s saying every time. You can see it in his honey eyes.

“Prettiest fucking tits I’ve ever seen,” Eddie adds. His compliments are more forward, more dirty than Steve’s, but you love how different they are from each other. They’re your boys and they never back down from an opportunity to tell you or show you just how much they love you. 

They each take one of your hands as they work, licking and sucking roughly as kind words fall  from their lips every so often. They’ve gotten so good at giving you exactly what you need when you need it and it always surprises you how they always seem to be able to read your mind. 

They’ve done this exact thing more times than you can count, but you can’t help but notice how different this one is. How you’ve managed to let your thoughts float out of your brain and just focus on what’s happening. In the past, you would just think about how exposed you feel, but right now, all you can think about is how good it all feels.

You’re about to respond when Steve sucks on your nipple he’s got in his mouth and Eddie brings the other one between his teeth, biting down gently. Steve eventually catches on and does the same thing, biting down on your nipple and you’re holding onto the sheets underneath for dear life as a loud moan falls from your lips, an orgasm already rolling through you. 

Your back arches as you reach completion and suddenly, you feel the insecurity lessen, especially when they’re coaching you through the orgasm, using every nickname they have for you with the most gentle tones. 

“That’s it, hon,” Steve encourages as the two of them pull away just in time to watch you. 

“Just like that, sweetheart,” Eddie nods. They think you’re satisfied with what they’ve just done, but you’re still begging for more, needing something else. And they’re more than happy to oblige. Anything to keep their girl happy. 

They’re kissing down your body, murmured compliments falling from their lips and you feel nothing but love radiating from the two of them. This is honestly the best you’ve ever felt, especially during sex with your boyfriends. You feel like a new woman, no longer shy about responding positively to their touches. 

“I love these,” Eddie says as he lets his fingers run along your hip bone where you’ve got a cluster of stretch marks. 

“You do?” You ask in shock. That seemed to be the one thing that always turned people off so you had gotten into the habit of covering them up. 

“Mhm,” he nods. “So pretty,” he compliments before bringing his lips to the skin, pressing soft kisses to it. And Steve follows, doing the same thing on your other hip, his lips ghosting over your skin, being so gentle with you. 

Steve and Eddie then get on the floor in front of you, each pulling on a leg to pull you closer to them and before you can ask what they’re doing, they’re grabbing hold of your legs and lowering their heads down to your inner thighs, pulling at the fishnets with their teeth and all you can hear is a loud ripping sound as holes are being torn in your tights. 

And you don’t even mind. In fact, you think it’s really hot, how they’re both so desperate to get to your cunt. After a few minutes, they manage to rip from your thighs to your crotch and together, they pull your thong down before each of them rest a hand on your knees as they spread your legs to see what they’re working with. 

“Is all of this for us?” Eddie asks as he stares down at your sopping wet cunt. “Shit, sweetheart, you shouldn’t have. Good thing we brought our appetite, huh, Stevie?” He nudges his boyfriend and they then each drape one of your legs over one of their shoulders. 

And in the blink of an eye, they dive straight into your cunt, Eddie going for your cunt while Steve goes for your slit, they’re both working their magic with their mouths and you’re embarrassed at how you feel like you’re already going to orgasm again. 

“You taste even better than the other night,” Eddie says. “God, could eat you for hours, doll.”

“I agree. You taste absolutely divine,” Steve agrees and then they’re at it again, licking and sucking on your cunt roughly and you’re grasping onto the sheets so hard that you’re practically white-knuckling it. What they’re doing feels so good that you feel your eyes rolling back into your head, your hands moving to their hair, giving it a rough tug in response to the pleasure that’s rolling through you. And just when you think they’re close, Steve’s tongue enters you and your thighs push their heads together as his tongue hits just the right spot, causing you to reach your climax yet again. And since he doesn’t want to take all the fun, Eddie takes over soon after, taking turns making you orgasm until you’re going absolutely stupid, almost seeming drunk. 

And then together, they clean you up, making sure to tell you just how good you did while they got you dressed. And once you’re in one of Eddie’s t-shirt, they climb into the bed with you on either side as the three of you cuddle, the two of them stroking your hair and rubbing your back until you’ve fallen asleep in their arms, waking up in the morning fully ready for round two.

[sugdenlovesdingle]

could you write something when tommy is just being a big softie to buck (or other way around is also great)? i kinda need some comfort rn :') thank you! xx

Soft I can do! I hope you like it!

---

Mr Evan Kinard. He ran his fingers over the name on the invitation. It was maybe a little silly but it was his first official anything since he and Tommy got married a few months ago, and he was barely resisting the urge to frame it and hang it on the wall next to their wedding picture.

"Oh hey you." he felt two arms slip around his waist and a kiss in his neck. "I wasn't expecting you home yet. I thought you'd be busy at casa Diaz for a couple more hours."

"Hmm? No Eddie roped the kids in to help so we were done faster. They're all moved in and Chris is only mildly annoyed by having to share a bathroom with three more people now. We are expected to come help paint soon though." He turned around in Tommy's arms and kissed him. "How was your shift?"

"Not bad." Tommy shrugged. "Had to fly a heart to a donor in the middle of the night with the new probie, and the rest was just maintenance and the usual stuff."

"So what you're saying is... you saved someone's life in the middle of the night?"

"More like... I flew someone somewhere with the tools to do so." Tommy replied and noticed the envelope in Evan's hands. "What's this?"

"Oh, yeah, an invite to the annual LAFD charity event next month. They're raising money to fund cancer research." Buck said, handing Tommy the invite. "There's one for you too."

Tommy quickly scanned the invite and pulled a face.

"I hate these things. You have to dress up and pretend to care what rich people are saying all night so they'll drop a big cheque on the donation pile."

"I know... but it's only one night. And I'll get to show you off in your dress uniform."

"Oh is that what this is about?" Tommy teased "You just want to see me in my dress uniform."

"I can neither confirm nor deny." Buck said and leaned in closer so he could whisper in Tommy's ear. "The real treat would be getting you out of that uniform."

"Oh is that your goal?" Tommy asked, slowly lowering the zipper on his hoodie and wiggling his eyebrows at Evan. "You should have just said so baby, you know I'll always give you what you want in that department."

"You're ridiculous."

"I vowed before our family and friends to always make you happy, and I take my vows very seriously."

Buck moved his hands up to his neck and interlocked his fingers behind Tommy's head.

"You do make me happy. Every day." he said and pulled Tommy closer for a kiss. "And that's why I want to go to this charity thing. It's the first official event since we got married. It's the first time I'll get to use my new name."

"You already have name tags and turnouts with Kinard on them." Tommy pointed out.

"I know. But the only people who know what those turnouts used to say are our friends who were all at our wedding. At this charity event, I can introduce myself as Evan Kinard and then ask the person I'm talking to if they've met my husband yet." Evan explained. "Without someone going 'yes Buck, we know' and rolling their eyes at me."

"They do that?"

Evan shrugged.

"It's happened a few times. It's no big deal. I talk about you a lot."

Tommy smiled that crinkly smile Buck loved so much.

"Yeah I talk about you a lot too. They kept a tally the other day on how many times in one shift I said your name."

"And? What was the score?"

Tommy grabbed his phone from his pocket and opened his camera roll and showed him a picture of his locker at work, with a sheet from an LAFD notepad stuck to it, filled with dashes.

"This is in no way correct. I'm sure it was more."

---

Send me prompts and I'll write you a ficlet!

[frehyun]

Makeup

idol!hyunjin x gn!reader

warnings: none!

genre: fluff

word count: 868

author's note: just a little silly something I wrote on my way to uni, very much inspired by Hyunjin's make up in this tiktok! hope you enjoy 💗

(not edited </3)

masterlist

divider by @strangergraphics

“What brought this on?” – Hyunjin giggled as you strode back into his bedroom, closing the door behind you so Changbin didn’t have a chance to peek inside.

“I wanna do your makeup!” – you emphasised your words by waving a palette and brushes around dramatically, making your way to the bed where he was situated on.

“Am I not pretty enough?” – he batted his eyelashes up at you.

Menace.

You waved away his teasing words with a pout, pushing him back into the pillows and climbing onto the bed to straddle his hips, your palette and brushes safely put away onto the bedside table.

“You know you’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen, so don’t even start with that. Now, tell me, what color? Glitter? Ohh, I think glitter would make you look so good!” – you excitedly patted his chest, urging him to voice his own wishes. You were going to give him at least some choice in the matter. Only a little, though.

Hyunjin layed one of his long, manicured fingers against his chin and tapped it, letting out a loud hum, overdramatically indicating that he was thinking about what was going to be his hardest choice of the day aside from what to order for dinner tonight.

You sighed, moving to lay your head on his chest while he got his theatrics out.

“Wake me when you’ve decided.”

“Hey, I don’t take that long to decide these things!”

“I’ll just choose for you, you big baby.” – you smiled teasingly and reached over to get the palette and brushes off the table and sitting right back up.

“Oh my God, you don’t love me, I’ve always known” – he makes a dramatic gesture, covering his eyes with his arm and playfully frowning to really sell the act.

While Hyunjin was busy getting a standing ovation for his main role as the Drama Queen in his own stageplay, you opened the eyeshadow palette and took a look at what colors were still left. There was still quite a bit of the glittery grey and black left, playing right into your plans of bedazzling your boyfriend.

“Are you gonna move your arm or do I have to resort to tickling? You know I will.” – you asked him with a raised eyebrow, threateningly placing your free hand on the sliver of skin that was revealed by his shirt riding up his stomach. That earned you a squeak alongside him wanting to fold together beneath you, grabbing your hands into both of his larger ones.

“I give up, you win”, he giggled and sunk back into the pillows behind him, “just make sure that it’s so good, that at least Han or Felix get jealous, I feel like bragging.”

“Always the best for my princess. It’s gonna be black and grey, by the way.”

He just gave a lazy hum in response and with that you leaned your body over his and started applying the eyeshadow to his eyelids. His hands eventually comfortably rested on the side of your thighs, squeezing every now and then, as he dutifully stood still for you to do your thing. The whole process was weirdly therapeutic for both of you.

For you, because simply being this close to him was already a comfort, the motions of your brush calming as it glided over his soft skin but also because making your boyfriend look pretty was kind of one of your favorite things to do. You already looked forward to him admiring himself in one of the mirrors, smiling softly to himself and that alone made the whole thing worth it.

For him, because he also revelled in the fact that you were so close that he could idly play with the fabric of your clothes but also because Hyunjin simply liked feeling taken care of. You going through the effort of applying make up to him just because you wanted to made him feel just that, an ease settling in his heart.

Time flew by and soon you moved back from his face, letting out a small groan accompanied by ‘my back hurts’. Despite Hyunjin’s protests and whines, you got up to get a small hand mirror to show him the results.

As soon as his eyes fell upon the glittery eyeshadow decorating his eyelids, he let out a little ‘ooh’ before grabbing the mirror from you to see your work closer. The smile that found its way onto his lips made your heart jump in your chest in happiness.

“Maybe you should become one of my stylists. You get to do my make up all the time and I get to annoy you every single day” – he mused, turning his head from left to right to get different angles of his makeup.

“You know what, maybe I should. Then I get to see Felix every day” – you sighed and hugged him from the side, nuzzling your face into his shirt.

“Yah, you’re supposed to be there for me!”

While giggling and playfighting, the two of you eventually sent a few pictures of your artistry into the groupchat, letting Hyunjin brag like he wanted to.

Felix, Han and even Chan did end up demanding that you do theirs next.

[httpsdana]

heyy! i feel bad for putting in a request hopefully ur not busy. just wanted to say i love ur fics sm and hope u are having a great day.

so today im like not feeling myself and upset and wanted to know if u could make a cubarsi fic with fluff.

so i have a science project and im the only one working and we have so much to do and my friends are stressing me. my parents are helping but yk when it’s too much.

so anything with Pau x reader with Pau comforting her would be amazing tysmm! 💕🫶🏽

Heartfelt Equations~Pau Cubarsi

*Pictures are from Pinterest*

I saw the request and knew I should write it quickly. hope u feel better anon, i know u're gonna nail the project 🫶🏻

request from here

master list -> part 2

players/drivers I write for

y/n is staring at her laptop screen, eyes glazed over, feeling like she's drowning in numbers, notes, and complicated diagrams.

The clock on the wall ticks loudly, reminding her of the deadline creeping closer, and she can feel the stress building like a storm inside you.

Her group of friends was supposed to be helping, but one by one, they’d left her to handle everything alone. Her family offered what help they could, but it was clear that science projects weren’t their strong suit. She was in this alone, and it was overwhelming.

Suddenly, she heard a familiar knock at the door, followed by the gentle creak as it opens. Before she can even turn around, a pair of warm arms wrap around her shoulders from behind.

“Hey, mi pequeña científica,” Pau’s soft voice fills the room, his chin resting on top of her head. (my little scientist)

“You look like you’re about two seconds away from throwing this laptop out the window.” he joked, sensing her overwhelmed situation.

y/n let out a sigh, leaning back into his embrace. “Two seconds? I think I’m already there,” she muttered, closing her eyes to keep the frustration at bay. “This project is impossible, and none of my friends have helped at all. I’m just… I don’t even know where to start anymore.”

Pau gently spins her chair to face him, his hands resting on her shoulders as he looks down at her with a soft smile. “Let me see this mess, then. I’m here now, and I’m not leaving until we get this done together, okay?”

She looked at him, a flicker of hope sparking in her chest.

“You mean it? You don’t have to—” she started

“Of course I mean it,” he interrupts, pulling her up from the chair and guiding her to the kitchen table where all her papers are scattered. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let my amazing, hardworking girl drown in science notes?”

y/n let out a laugh at his words, feeling some of the tension slip away. “Alright, you asked for it. Welcome to the chaos,” she said gesturing to the mess of papers, half-finished calculations, and diagrams that don’t even make sense to her anymore.

Pau grins, sitting beside hee and picking up a stray page. “Wow, you really went all out here. Let’s see, we’ve got… a million equations and some pretty impressive doodles on the side of this page.” He points to a little sketch she'd absentmindedly drawn of a sun with sunglasses.

she blushed, reaching to snatch the paper from him, but he holds it out of reach, laughing. “No way! I’m keeping this as evidence of your creative genius. But seriously,” he says, his expression softening, “you’re incredible for even attempting this all on your own. Now, let’s break it down together, alright?”

With a deep breath, she nods and explains the project to him, pointing out all the sections that still need to be done. Pau listens carefully, nodding along, and as soon as she's finished explaining, he grabs a pencil and a fresh piece of paper.

“Alright, my love. You take care of the data, and I’ll start on the graphs. Let’s tackle this step by step.” he said, giving her an encouraging smile.

They both dive into the work, and it’s like a weight has been lifted. Pau’s presence grounds her, his little jokes making her smile as he meticulously draws out her graphs and even colors them in with highlighters he found in her pencil case. Every now and then, he looks up at her with a grin.

“You know, you’re gonna owe me a big thank-you kiss for all this coloring,” he teases, holding up a bright yellow bar he’s highlighted.

“Oh, trust me,” she laughs, “I’ll give you all the kisses you want after this.”

“Deal,” he says, his eyes twinkling as he reaches over and plants a quick kiss on her forehead.

Hours pass, and the project finally starts coming together. With one last click, y/n saves the final document, and an overwhelming sense of relief washes over her. She slumps back in her chair, exhaling deeply.

“It’s… it’s done,” she whispers, almost in disbelief.

Pau immediately pulls her into his arms, lifting her off the chair and twirling her around. “I told you we’d finish it. Look at you, mi genio. You did it” (my genius)

Giggling, she wraps her arms around his neck, clinging to him as he spins her. When he finally sets her down, they're both breathless and laughing. Pau cups her face, brushing his thumbs gently over her cheeks.

“You know, I’m really proud of you. You didn’t give up, even when it got tough,” he says softly, his gaze filled with admiration. “You’re amazing.”

A blush rises to her cheeks as she smiles up at him. “Thank you, Pau. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“Of course you could have,” he says, pressing a gentle kiss to her nose. “But I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. Now…” He pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “How about we celebrate?”

y/n snuggled into his embrace, feeling the last remnants of stress melt away. “What kind of celebration did you have in mind?”

“Hmm,” he says, pretending to think, “how about ice cream? The biggest sundae we can find?”

She laughs gently, looking up at him with a grin. “You know the way to my heart.”

He chuckles, leaning down to kiss her softly. “I know, hermosa. And for the record,” he murmurs, brushing his lips across hers, “I love you. Stress and all.”

Her heart fluttered as she reaches up, winding her arms around his neck. “I love you too, my little science assistant.”

He laughs, pulling her in for another kiss, deeper and slower this time. The world feels calm and steady, and in his arms, everything feels perfectly, wonderfully right.

[yelenasdiary]

Little Spidey

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Spider-Woman! Reader

Summary: After coming home from a long mission, you struggle to accept a little shift in your relationships. 

Angst, Comfort, Fluff

Warnings: Brief mentions depression & loneliness | 1.3K

AC: Wrote this for my good friend, @scarletwidowblackwitch ! so sorry it took me forever to get this one out for you! I hope you enjoy! x 

Your apartment was quiet while you lay in bed staring at the roof, usually your roommates, Peter and Kate would be making so much noise that a sleep in was almost non-existent in the small apartment. The time on your phone reading, 10:16am reminded you just how hungry you were. After getting home rather late last night, sliding through the door without making a sound, careful not to wake your roommates, you took a shower and fell as the second your head hit the pillow. 

You wandered into the kitchen, the two friends of yours leaving it how they normally did. Their breakfast dishes in the sink, crumbs from the cereal box on the countertop along with some small droplets of milk. You shook your head with a soft, amused smile on your lips as you reached for a wash cloth to clean up after them. 

After breakfast, you showered and gave your suit a quick steam before you picked up your phone, the weather was beautiful today, the sun kissing the city of New York with its warm touch made you think about a nice catch up with you a friend or two in Central Park. You called Wanda first, knowing just how much she loved getting a latte and some fresh air but your call went to voice mail, maybe she was on a mission you thought. 

Next you tried your roommate, Kate but no answer then you tried your luck with Peter. 

“Hey, Y/n, what’s up?” The young adult happily asked. 

“I just wanted to know if you were busy? Thought we could grab a smoothie and hang out?” You replied. 

“Wait, when did you get back? I thought you were still on that big job?”

“Uh, last night. I didn’t want to wake you or Kate, so I was pretty quiet” you lightly chuckled. 

“Welcome back! I would hang out today but Tony’s got me doing training in this new suit he made me, can we do a rain check?” He questioned with doubt in his voice. 

“Of course, let me know whenever you’re free” you did your best to sound unbothered before Peter said he’d text you before hanging up the line. You let out a light sigh before you checked the Avengers app that Tony created to keep up with who was on missions and to no surprise, Natasha was on a mission, Bucky was on a mission, Steve was with Bucky, Sam was booked for training, Tony was with Peter and Kate was with Clint on someday training trip. With that information, you tossed your phone on your freshly made bed and decided to go to the gym for an hour or so. 

As the days went by, you couldn’t help the negative thoughts that dawned on you. Almost everybody had returned from their missions and were staying at the compound to catch up on mission reports. You joined them all at the compound but the quietness that you woke up too days before still lingered. You wondered if you were annoying those around you, your text messages went unread, or you only got short replies back. Plans to catch up went abandoned leaving you alone while your insecurities dawned on you. 

A week has floated by you while you did your best to keep yourself distracted from the loneliness that crept into the apartment, your roommates barely coming home for more than a nights sleep. The apartment still quiet over your favorite playlist that played in the background, nothing on the streaming apps seemed interesting enough to keep the silence from becoming louder at night. Rubbish from your favorite almost overflowing the bin in the kitchen reminding you to take it out in the morning. 

You were getting yourself ready for bed when you heard a knock at the door, you couldn’t help but sigh lightly thinking it was probably the elderly neighbor with some gossip of yet another delinquent hanging around, suspiciously. You opened the door only to be met with the familiar green eyes and locks of red hair that you had missed dearly. 

“Y/n! you’re back?!” Beamed Natasha as her eyes lit up, “nobody told me you were back, and I lost my freaking phone” she adds. 

You give her a weak smile, knowing she probably wasn’t even here to see you in the first place. “I guess everybody has been busy, are you here to see Kate or Peter?” You asked causing Nat to frown slightly. “I needed to speak to Kate about something, but I don’t care about that, it can wait” she replied, giving you a soft smile, “my detka is home” she added. 

The pet name getting the better of you as you felt your cheeks get warm. Natasha wrapped her arms around you and gently pulled you in for a hug, “I missed you so much” she said in an almost whisper. You felt yourself practically melt into her hold, missing the way her arms always felt like home. Her dark rose scented perfume leaving its mark on your clothing, a smell you forgot just how much you missed. 

“Why don’t you come stay at mine tonight?” Your girlfriend asked, pulling back to look you in the eyes ones more. Her highly trained skills to read people never failed her when it came to you, she saw past the weak smile and the sadness in your eyes no matter how much you thought you were good at hiding. “I don’t know, I don’t wanna be a burden” you confessed to the widow. 

“A burden? Honey, you could never be a burden. Besides we both know I have the best fluff blankets” She says, gently cupping your face before planting a soft kiss on your lips, “and maybe you can tell me what’s got my little Spidey so down” she adds. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle ever so lightly at the nickname, “are you sure?” You asked, needing reassurance. 

“Detka, if you think I’m leaving you alone, think again” she smirks.

“Let me go pack my overnight bag, come in” you smile softly as she walks in, closing the door behind her. 

“Why don’t you pack a little more than just one bag?” The widow suggested. 

You stopped in your tracks halfway down the hall, turning to face her once more, “Nat, I can’t just leave without telling Peter and Kate” you reply, “Rent is due next week, it wouldn’t be fair” 

Natasha shrugged, “I’ll cover it and I think they would understand but if you’re not ready for that step it’s okay, I can wait” 

You took a moment to think about her idea, you wanted nothing more to be able to spend more time with your girlfriend, especially after being away from her for so long but the guilt of leaving your roommates so suddenly dawned on you. “I would love too but I really, really don’t want to be a burden on you just because I’ve had a few lousy days” 

Natasha, walking towards you reached out to hold your hand, “it’s not a burden to spend your life with somebody you care about. Change can be scary, but we all need it. Peter and Kate can find another roommate if they want, they’ll be okay. I really just want to share everything moment with you” she says, looking into your eyes while silence filled the room for you to think a little more. 

“I guess I could talk to Kate and Peter tomorrow” 

“That’s my little Spidey” Natasha smiles, “now you’ll be able to hear me complain about my cooking every night” she adds with a playful wink causing you to chuckle once more. 

“Don’t worry Romanoff, I won’t let you burn the house down” you reply as she wraps her arms around you once more, “oh come on, the kitchen caught on fire once” she says, rolling her eyes. 

“Once is more than enough” you smile before her lips find yours again.

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[yanmuffins]

asks.

there are quite a few asks on my ask box so i'm reply to some of them collectively on this post!

unfortunately he's alone in that. jon could have been his stacy but he's got a crush on reader and has too much fun with their invetions. damian thinks he's a traitor.

@megasweetbones

"perry and alfred used to be secret agents of the british royal family"

now that's a very old platypus.

i like the idea of tim being the most unsettled by the platypus out of everyone. tripping him might or might not have been on purpose. we'll never know! but after a while, tim is just conviced the platypus' got some weird business about it. typical wayne paranoia, sure, but he swears there's something about that weird little amalgamation of animals he can't really pinpoint. he swears he's looking at him weird. and he swears he's scaring him on purpose, appearing out of nowhere.

"calm your tits, tim. it's just a platypus." jason says, "they don't do much."

but tim really can't help glaring at perry the very normal regular domesticated platypus whenever he's seen in reader's arms.

@randomlyappearingartist

alfred absolutely knows about the invetions. no he will not tell bruce about them. he sees bruce and the others barely noticing reader exists, how dismissive they are, and he's like "i'll tell them to ask their father for permission first. if master bruce doesn't notice the legally binding papers or the outlandish gadgets around the manor then that's his problem, honestly."

the most he does is very cryptically allude to it, in hopes the family will take notice of reader. as expected, it doesn't work. he just lets reader do whatever they want as long as they consult their father firts and promise to be careful.

the thing about phineas! reader is that they are a regular teenager (if you take away the gifted genius who can build rocketships to the moon in a single day part) who's just in it for the fun. creating all those crazy gadgets and invetions, letting their creativity flow, having fun with their friends, spending every summer day like it's the last one before they go back to school.

if perry got them a job at the justice league, i think reader would deny it. they're not particularly interested in vigilantism or heroism for that matter. they might consider it after high school is over, but for now? all they want to do is be a teenager. not a very conventional teenager, but a teenager nonetheless.

and tbh it's more of a psychological thing, not being able to build. it's like all of those ideas are bottling up inside their head, going to waste, with them being unable to do anything about it.

well, it's not like they can't do anything about it, but having the batfam limiting what they can and cannot do, watching over their shoulder, isn't exactly providing them the enrichment they need.

but since damian and jon are determined to help, reader doesn't have to worry about that for long!

reader is actually a citizen of metropolis! or was, since they're now in gotham. a big adjustment.

the meeting between jon and reader happens thanks to damian. he's fully expecting jon to be an ally in busting his new sibling. he's complained about them countless times before, to the point jon's tired of hearing about them.

but he actually meets them and, hey, they're super cute and super cool! it's kind of amazing they come up with their inventions so fast. so he goes from reluctantly humoring damian to actively helping reader. maybe even with his own powers. damian can do nothing but shake his head and sigh wearily. jon is an idiot.

the scene in question anon is referencing, at 0:16.

the concept is so funny, anon, but hm... i wonder if jon wouldn't just straight up tell reader about it. he wants to be included, so i don't think it'd be long before he's using his powers to help reader with their inventions.

it is at times like these the batfam has to thank the universe reader is chaotic good and would never turn to villainy. because then damian can enjoy having a super awesome sibling who gives him all sorts of elaborate weapons for him to practice with!

nevermind that he's asking for these just so he can bring the weapons you built to bruce and prove once and for all you're not the harmless kid they think you are, but that's before he realizes the weapons are kinda good. and he kinda wants to keep them, which wouldn't be possible if he handed them over to bruce.

so he'll keep these a secret. just these.

[333creolelady]

Lady Of The Blue Bakunawa Ch.9 (Finale)

Afab! Black OC x Roman Reigns (Pirate Au)

Warnings: SEX, Fem rec oral, Male rec oral, P in V penetration, Cursing, Discussions about Racism/ Systematic oppression, very light angst (with heavy fluff omg)

Word Count: A Whopping 34k. I am so sorry.

Official playlist link

Alternative playlist link

Official songs for this chapter: The whole world, Le style du Barry, Le lever du, Concerto G, Sonatas, The zong, Lord Mansfield, First impressions, The living sculptures, Darcy’s letter, Jeanne Versailles, spring 1, Malena Titoli di coda, To the ball, Academy, Laverton, Merry, Misirlou, Danube, The pink room, You would be my wife, You already, Nobody gets me (classical).

Alternative songs for this chapter: The gentle rain, Flick, From scratch, Guitar song, 26, The only exception, We’ll never have sex, Futile devices, Love Story, Hide, Breathe, Possibly Maybe, Lover you should have come over, Feel like home.

Cover by @joannasteez

<-Chapter 8

<- Back to Masterlist

Jane Pov

There were many inexplicable occurrences that happened as a result of the island. For one, the seasons had changed. They were spat out somewhere between Totoguam and a British occupied port. This was a relief, as it would take them a very long time to get back to Europe from where they came. It took 6 weeks flat to reach the Port of Tillbury.

Jane agreed to accompany Roman to meet an old friend in Paris and take a breather after such a vigorous quest. A quarter of the pirates parted ways with the group to pay off debts, return to family, visit family, or simply retire. William was included in that group of people. Understandably so, he needed to make things right with his wife. Doctor Earl decided to stay a bit longer, simply stating that his work was not done yet. Caden would be accompanying Jane and Roman on their trip.

Before any real break could happen, business had to be dealt with. Roman left early in the morning to travel to London to clear warrants. Jane spent the day preparing for their trip. She started packing the new sets of clothes that Roman had picked out for her. Shoes, dresses, shifts, stockings, garters, stays, modesty slips, caps and fichus, paniers, petticoats, and engageantes. Roman had gone on a bit of an impulsive spending spree as he was terribly sorry about the destruction of the last ship and all their personal belongings. After packing her items she moved onto his. She prepared her hair in small twists, hoping to not be bothered with it for a week or two. The slip of her hair pomade in her hand made her grateful to be back in the general population.

With a smaller group of pirates, dinner took half the time to cook. Tilbury wasn’t particularly known for its fresh produce or quality cuts of meat. The boat had better food. Beef and potatoes were a favorite and it was a favorite this night just as any other night. Roman came back with a tired but satisfied look on his face. She could tell by his smile that the day had gone well. Before she can utter a word, his mouth is on hers, giving her a generous and suggestive greeting after so many hours apart.

“ Dinner is ready. Caden helped”, She pulled away from the kiss with a chuckle, slapping her hand across his chest.

A goofy grin spreads across his face “ Great. Let us enjoy our meal in the bedroom”, he suggests lowly. She looks around at all the men sitting in the dining hall. They were far too busy stuffing their faces. Roman motions for the door with his eyes, trying his best to convince her. “come on”, he whispered to her. He’s already holding his plate and hers. She pulls off her apron and sets it on the seat. One of the lower ranking pirates hoots suggestively as the two disappear behind the door. Roman doesn’t even bother his typical threats from his cheery mood.

The two reach the bedroom and she sets the plates on the table, pouring a glass of water for the both of them from the picher that sat near the window sill. Roman strips himself off his coat, waistcoat, and shirt. He pulls off his tricorn hat and takes down his hair from his respectful ponytail.

“ You’re in a good mood”, Jane laughs.

“ I am. I have great news. I was able to clear up some warrants for myself and the crew. You don’t even have a warrant anymore.” Jane perks up at those words.

“ Indeed, you are declared missing in the country of England. This is because they found no remains. This means that all your debts and warrants have been cleared. You are free”, Roman quips.

“ Free…”, the word bounces off her tongue in a peculiar way. She supposed that life in London was no freedom after all. If one could even call what she had before a life.

Roman sat next to her, throwing his arm around her shoulder and pulling her temple to his mouth for a peck.

“ A fresh start. You can even choose a new name if you like not that it will matter. I don’t have much business to do with London at this point. You won’t have to go back here if you do not wish to”, he assured her.

“ Processing the paperwork will taking some time. We will head to Paris by carriage the day after tomorrow. Caden will escort you to the shops tomorrow to get anything you need for our stay which will be three weeks long.”

Jane brows raise in surprise “ Three weeks?..What on earth will we be doing for three whole weeks?”

Roman playfully rolls his eyes, “ Can a man not surprise and plan things for the woman he loves? If you were supposed to know I would have told you by now ”, he chuckles.

“ Not even a hint….you’ll spare me ?”, Jane scoffs.

“ It’s a vacation”, Roman muttered, scraping the last bit of potatoes off his plate. Jane was so excited she couldn’t even finish her meal and instead pushed her plate towards his.

“I suppose that will be enough. I’ll try to get more out of you later… I have my ways,” she teased. A rumble in his chest tickled her ears as she stifled a laugh and he pulled her into his lap.

Roman leaned into the crook of her neck. “Spoiled rotten… never let me have the last word, can you?” He quickly caught her off guard with a smack to her bum. She squealed, jumping up and diving for the bed.

As promised, the day after the next, two carriages awaited them at the end of the dock, drawn by four large white horses. The carriages were brown with gold embroidery—no doubt they were expensive. The coachmen placed Jane’s and Roman’s luggage on top of the carriage. Roman helped her step inside while the coachmen held the door open for her. Inside the small cushioned box were three medium-sized windows with retractable blinds. There were two cushioned benches adorned with beautiful swirly embroidery around the perimeter of the carriage. The ceiling was dark red with gold designs dancing across it. Jane sat down, and Roman sat across from her. The coachmen closed the door and opened the two additional windows to let in the light.

“The quality of this carriage… it’s so rich. It almost looks like a royal carriage,” Jane said, looking around in awe. It even smelled nice. A beat of silence passes. “Is this a royal carriage?” Jane frowned in confusion. Roman chuckled knowingly.

“I take it you haven’t traveled in very good carriages before?” he deflected. Jane rolled her eyes, aware of his angle but deciding to drop it.

“I wouldn’t call a wooden bench staring at the back of a horse’s arse particularly ‘good,’ so I’m easily impressed so far,” she snorted.

He chortled. “Well, if it’s that easy to impress you, prepare to be astonished once more… very soon.”

“How long before we get to Paris?”

“All of today. We won’t reach Paris until nightfall.” Roman removed his jacket and rolled it behind him into a pillow.

A day was nothing. The two of them lost track of time in conversation—a common occurrence when they were together. Roman told old pirate stories, and Jane listened intently. The bottle of ale certainly helped keep the topics interesting. Eventually, around midnight, Jane could wait for Paris a second longer. After a long rant about a specific color of dress she could never seem to find, she slumped against his chest. Sleep claimed her, and Roman, a bit of a night owl, decided to join her in slumber. He didn’t want to miss her reaction.

Jane's body sensed the carriage stop, stirring her awake, which in turn woke Roman. He looped an arm around her waist and pulled her upright before opening a blind. Jane gasped as she looked out the window.

A palace? Why would she be at a palace of all places? Why would Roman take her to a palace when he practically hated nobility? None of it made sense. She glanced between his eyes and the massive property just feet away.

A little knock on the door startled her, as she couldn’t see anyone standing there. Reluctantly, she opened the door. A small voice cleared its throat, and her eyes shot down to a sandy-brown-haired girl with large, poofy ringlets split into two ponytails on either side of her head. She wore a child’s nightdress with a robe and matching pink slippers. Her large eyes, tiny bulbous nose, and round pink lips made her look like a little cherub. More surprisingly, she was incredibly tiny, appearing to be around four to six years old. Maybe it was because Jane hadn’t been around many children; most of the earls and ladies she had worked for were older with grown children. The little girl smiled at her. “Bonjour! Parles-tu français?” she asked.

“Uh… no,” Jane replied awkwardly, a small chuckle rising from her chest as the little girl eyed her curiously.

“Hello, my name is Eloise!” the little girl said, sticking her tiny hand out to Jane. Her accent was distinctly French, and her voice was sweet yet clear, as if she had spoken two languages her entire life.

Jane, bewildered but charmed, took the child’s hand in her own and introduced herself. “Jane,” she smiled.

The child turned to Roman. “And you must be Papa’s friend. He said you were coming. He’s not back yet from his hunting trip with Mama, but don’t worry. I can give you a tour since he’s not here. I know all the rooms of the palace and the—”

“Eloise! What did I say?! You are to be in bed! Une dame ne salue pas ses invités dans ses vêtements de nuit. A lady must be presentable!” a woman called from the top of the steps leading to the entrance of the palace.

The little girl took off running into the palace, a guard jogging behind her, shadowing her every move. Jane and Roman stepped out of the carriage as she disappeared around a dimly lit corner. A woman in her fifties with deep brown hair, green cat-like eyes, a long defined nose, and cherry-red lips approached the couple. She wore a long deep green gown, and her hair was styled in a puffy updo. Jane glanced back to see Caden still in his carriage parked a few inches away, greeted by a different courtier.

“Monsieur Roman, Mademoiselle Ramlal—welcome. My name is Beatrice. I split my time between being a governess to Lady Eloise and a courtier for the Duchess of Orleans. The Duke will be so pleased to have you both here,” she said, respectfully curtsying and smiling at them.

“Hi… Is this… Versailles?” Jane asked, looking around curiously at the architecture.

The woman covered her mouth to suppress a chuckle. “No, ma’am. This is Palais Royal—home to the Duke and the Duchess. However, Versailles is just up the road, an hour away by carriage. You will experience the wonders of the King’s home soon enough. Not to worry.”

“Thank you, Beatrice. This is Jane’s first time in Paris, so she’ll need some time to adjust”, says Roman.

“Of course! Let me show you to your room, and we can do a tour of the property after the Duke and Duchess return. Let us take the short way, as I know you two must be very tired. Right this way,” Beatrice smiled kindly, signaling to the officers to unload the luggage, which was then picked up by four servants who appeared quietly in the background.

On the short walk to their quarters, Jane took it all in—what she could see, at least. Before her stood an architectural giant, its grandeur dwarfing the buildings in England. It worried her slightly that Versailles would be even bigger than this. The palace, with its striking classical façade, was an intricate tapestry of columns and arches. Tall Corinthian pillars, fluted and carefully proportioned, rose imposingly toward the sky, framing the grand entrance like sentinels of history. The creamy stone glowed warmly against the light, each detail sharp and vivid against the Parisian night sky.

Jane’s gaze swept over the expansive courtyard, where the geometric design of the paving stones seemed to lead her deeper into the heart of the palace. To her left, the vast gardens unfurled, their manicured hedges and vibrant flowerbeds a riot of color, contrasting beautifully with the pale stone of the building.

The sheer scale of the Palais Royal filled her with awe; it seemed to stretch endlessly, a labyrinth of wealth and privilege. How did people live like this? The intricate ironwork of the balconies twinkled in the moonlight, and the ornate sculptures perched atop the façade looked down like ancient figures, frozen in time. Every detail—the delicate carvings, the imposing gates, the shimmering windows—left her wide-eyed. This was not just a palace; it was a gateway to a life that was completely alien to her old one. And she thought the Earl she worked for was rich?

“Roman, we are criminals. We cannot be here,” she whispered quietly to him as they walked behind the governess. They were in the foyer, heading up a marble staircase so clean she felt she could eat off it.

He looked down at her, noticing her nervous glances over her shoulder as if there was a guard about to handcuff her. “Do you really think I’d take you somewhere where they would arrest you? It’s taken care of, remember? Besides, the Duke and I are childhood friends. He would sooner hide us than give us up to the law—a law we are no longer in trouble with. Relax. It’s what you’re supposed to do on vacation.” He looked down at her again as she continued to glance around suspiciously. Jane could send him into hysterics when she wanted to. This was one of those moments. She grabbed his large hand tightly, and he squeezed her small fist reassuringly.

“Okay. Here are your quarters. The Duke has informed us that you would like to share a room,” Beatrice led them down a winding, tall, echoey hallway that Jane nearly slipped on. She wasn’t used to walking on stone yet. They arrived at the room, and Beatrice opened the door. Jane held back a gasp.

The bedroom was lavish and opulent. The room featured grand, ornate furnishings with rich fabrics and intricate detailing. The walls were adorned with delicate wallpaper in a soft goldish-brown color with floral patterns. A large, canopied bed served as the centerpiece, draped in expensive linens and surrounded by tapestries.

Gilded accents and antique mirrors with elegant chandeliers illuminate the room with a warm, soft glow. Decorative vases and fresh flowers bring life and color to the space. Cushioned gold chairs and mahogany tables line either side of the room. A small table and two chairs sit near the large window with a balcony. The rug is spotless; not even a speck of dust or dirt can be seen on it, despite its cream and gold colors. The fireplace is large, with fresh wood sitting inside it. The room is adorned with ancestral paintings and murals. The marble floor features intricate designs. The ceiling is gold-trimmed.

“Your things will be here shortly. Ms. Ramlal, your measurements will need to be taken.”

“Oh—I brought my own dresses, no worries,” said Jane.

“This will be for your Versailles trip. Here, the court is a little more relaxed. However, Versailles is more traditional. The King doesn’t particularly like British fashion, so you’ll have to respect the rules of his court. Otherwise, you may insult him. His Highness is a little more… particular, ” Beatrice explained gently.

Jane blinked with surprise. “Oh—I was not aware. Thank you for letting me know.”

“My pleasure. Oh look, your bags have arrived,” Beatrice said, stepping aside to allow the male servants to place the luggage trunks next to the room dividers at the far end of the room. Two more servants, this time female, entered the room. They greeted her quietly, and she returned the favor. Roman was sitting in a chair, going through a small bookshelf that sat on the opposite side of the room. Jane walked to the full-length mirror next to the suitcases and allowed the ladies to take her measurements. The process took all of two minutes before they left with a swift curtsy.

“You two enjoy the rest of your evening. There will be a Butler named Joffrey stationed outside your door. If there is anything you need, report to him, and he will have it done. Is there anything else I can assist you two with?”

Roman stood from his sitting position. “No, that will be all, Beatrice. We truly appreciate your hospitality. I wish you a good night.”

“And you as well. See you both in the morning, Monsieur..Mademoiselle,” Beatrice curtsied and left.

Jane let out a long sigh, relaxing her shoulders. “Goodness. I felt like I was in a play.”

Roman chuckled knowingly. “The people of the court are almost as intense as the royalty. Every nicety must be observed. Every interaction is uptight. But trust me, the Duke and the Duchess are not like that.”

Jane looked around the room, turning her body to take in each part of it. At the end of the room sat assorted berries, chocolate, chocolate-covered berries, scones, soups, cheeses, breads, and wines. Jane rushed over to pick a berry from the tray.

“Mmm…” she said, picking another and putting it in her mouth. Utensils lined the tables. She picked one up, only to realize it was pure gold. The thought tickled her. Wouldn’t silver be just fine?

Chocolate was a rare delicacy. She’d tasted it maybe twice in her life and then never again.

“Fan of chocolate?” Roman smiled, watching her pick over the food table.

“Fan of anything sweet, if you couldn’t tell,” she chuckled.

Roman stood, his knees groaning from sitting all day. He pulled off his dress coat and placed it on the side of the chair. “The Persians love their sweets, so you won’t leave this place unsatisfied. Come, let me loosen your corset.”

Jane washed down her berries with a splash of wine before she shuffled over to Roman, kicking off her heels and letting her toes sink into the carpet. Roman stood behind her with his tall stature, pulling down the straps of her corset and loosening the ribbons that wound up her back. The final tug at the bottom of the corset popped the cage loose, allowing the fabric to fall down to her hips. She could feel her breasts spill out, but she made no move to hold them. She carefully pulled it off, revealing a thin, sheer undergarment slip she wore underneath. She lifted the garment over her shoulders and tossed it on the floor, leaving herself in bloomers and nothing else. She felt a calloused finger trail along her back and up her right shoulder. There it was again, that tension that had been brewing for weeks. She peeked over her shoulder, and his eyes were focused on her skin, painting small circles and patterns against her back and shoulder. His pupils, darker than usual, met her own, and she nearly flinched from the heat of them. They stayed there for a minute while a silent conversation was held.

Any day now, it would happen. His lust was so incontestable, so palpable, she could reach out and touch it. He took a step back and surrendered to their circumstances. No, not yet. Close, but not quite yet. It had been a long day, and his eyes lowered to her dress on the floor. He picked it up and set it alongside her luggage.

When she entered the elaborate bathroom, she noticed a large, spacious marble bathtub sitting by the window. She requested a bath, and Roman took his shortly after hers. The exhaustion set in fast as the two barely uttered goodnight before reaching deep sleep.

The morning sun illuminated every corner of the gold-speckled room, creating a shiny and soft haze over her eyes. To wake up glowing was strange after living inside a wooden ship for the better part of a year. Jane sat up to find that Roman was gone, which made her a bit nervous. A small note sat on her pillow, and she opened it.

“Gone to have a smoke with Arnaud. Pull the rope, and your chambermaids will come and get you ready for breakfast. I’ll see you soon.”

Arnaud? That must be the Duke. She pulled on her bathrobe and walked to the golden rope hanging by the door. She tugged it twice and stood in front of her bed, waiting to see if the maids would arrive. When they did, they greeted her quietly and walked her over to the center of the room.

She wasn’t really sure how to speak to the servants; part of her felt guilty. She used to be one. But how does one possibly speak from the other side of it? She supposed it was best to let them do their jobs. Most of the time, she just wanted to be left alone in the presence of the wealthy. Small talk bored her, and she had a million other worries on her mind than which outfit looked better on which hair color. So she let them work her clothes off in silence.

What happened next was absolutely ridiculous. She realized she hadn’t been dressed by another person since she was at least five years old. She was dressed in layers, more layers than she was used to. She felt like a noblewoman, and somehow the dresses she had brought with her, came alive in a way they hadn’t before.

This dress was light pink and frilly. It almost made her look like she belonged in this place. It had bows, lace, and a dramatic bust. The dressmaker had stressed to her how something this beautiful could only be worn somewhere of beauty. He told her that she must wait for a special occasion—now was the occasion. What else would you wear to breakfast in a palace? She put on matching pink pearl jewelry. The price was exorbitant, but it was something that Roman had picked out for her. Things were different now; money was no issue, despite the feeling not yet setting in. The dresses he had bought her when they first met were nice—expensive dresses even—but this was on a whole new level.

The ladies huddled around her and added a pink rouge to her cheeks that complemented her skin tone well. Then, they added a lightly tinted glossy pigment to her mouth that caught the light perfectly. They used a waxy substance on her lashes to elongate them and then pressed a clean-scented powder to her skin. It was perfume, she realized. She never really bothered with perfume, but this one was gorgeous. It smelt like vanilla…cake and berries. She kept raising her wrist to her nose to smell it. One of the mousy maids reached for her hair, and Jane gently grabbed her hand to stop her.

“Madame… your hair… do you not want it styled?” she asked curiously.

“Uh… my hair is a bit of a mystery. I can’t style it like the other ladies; it’s far too… complicated. Please, let me figure it out” Jane scrambled. She ended her sentence with an awkward chuckle as the two maids looked at her strangely.

“No worries, madam. Eloise has special hair too; it requires gentle hands. One moment,” the maid said before disappearing to speak with the butler outside the room.

Jane and the chambermaids sat in awkward silence for a painful five minutes. A woman rounded the corner, her hair wrapped. She wore a white variation of the maid's dress, and her face was kind and smiling. Jane realized that this woman was the first person she’d seen who looked like her in ages. Her shoulders relaxed, and she let out a long sigh.

“Mary, madame. I see you are in need of a hairdresser? I can help” the woman asked in a thick French accent.

“Well, I was just going to wear it in twists,” Jane muttered.

“Twists are pretty, but maybe something more elaborate to go with such a detailed outfit. Trust me, mademoiselle, I’ve touched many heads like yours,” she suggests. A knowing smile crossed her face, disarming Jane. She spoke with such old wisdom that Jane immediately nodded.

Mary whispered something to the maids, and they left. She gently began to take Jane’s hair down, twirling the soft curls around themselves. The maids returned with curling rods and other hair products. They started a fire in the fireplace and quietly dismissed themselves. Now it was just Mary and Jane.

“You do this style often?” Mary asked.

“Yes… when I’m not wrapping it up. Can you tell?” Jane replied shyly.

“The hair has memory for sure. It’s very healthy—that’s a hard thing to maintain when you have so little product to work with. I made these creams myself. I use them on la petite Eloise. Her hair is thick and not quite like other little girls her age. It requires some work, but it’s very beautiful. She only allows me to touch it.”

“It used to be even harder, so I would just wrap it. It was hard to keep it soft at times. I had to make my own product before…” Jane stopped herself. Was she talking too much? This woman hadn’t asked for her life story. And why did she suddenly feel so self-conscious about what Mary might think of her? Jane tucked her lips as she snuck a glance at the woman in the mirror.

“Before… go on,” Mary chuckled.

Jane cleared her throat. “Before I met the gentleman I traveled with.”

“Ahh… Monsieur Roman. I’ve heard many stories about him. He is the Duke’s longest friend, and he’s supposed to be very fierce. Sir Roman is he your…?” Mary trailed off as she parted Jane's hair. Jane looked down into her lap. Would it be in bad taste to say the truth? They weren’t married. Truthfully, she didn’t think it would matter; they would go back to being pirates after this. Pirates don’t have wives.

“My companion. M-my friend,” Jane blurted. Women don’t have male ‘friends’, especially not in high society, but it’s not like she had a ring to say otherwise.

“I see. Well, he certainly will be able to tell you a thing or two about Paris. He used to frequent Paris quite a bit. I’ve seen him around”

Jane’s mind went blank. Why had she suddenly forgotten how to speak to a woman? She needed more friends, that’s for sure. “Yes. He brought me here as a surprise. D-do you like Paris?”

“Like? Sometimes. I think it’s easier to see the beauty in a place when you don’t live there. I can at least admire the architecture.”

“Yes. The buildings are a sight to see.”

Mary brushed Jane’s hair in sections, clipping up most of it while pulling a small piece out. She walked over to the fire and placed a long metal rod above the flames. After about a minute, she returned to the styling chair and wrapped a piece of cloth around Jane’s hair. She looped the hair around the heated rod, using the cloth as a barrier. After twenty seconds, she released the hair to reveal a large ringlet. Jane gasped.

“Wow,” she said, touching her hair gently with the tips of her fingers. She didn’t want to mess up the style, but it amazed her. Somehow, it made her hair look longer yet the curl was more dramatic. She’d never manipulated her hair in that way. “You are going to do that all over my head, just like this?!”

Mary burst into laughter. “You look like little Eloise after I do her hair. She jumps out of her seat and then starts dancing and posing in the mirror. Of course, mademoiselle, it’s why I’m here. Now hold still,” Mary said, resting the rod on a thick piece of cloth and pulling out another section of hair.

Jane could feel her excitement bubbling over as Mary continued to work on her hair. She couldn’t remember the last time she got excited about something like this. Having her hair done was a luxury she wasn’t sure she could part with.

“So… what part of France are you from?”

“I am from Haiti, but I came to Paris when I was about eight years old. I grew up here in Palais Royal with the former Duke—the King’s brother. My mother was a dressmaker, and I was her little assistant.”

“Ah, I see. Do you live here in the Palais? Or away?”

“Oui, in the servants’ quarters. Though I have my own apartment due to Eloise’s favor. The Duke treats his staff quite well,” Mary spoke with a relaxed tone, as if Jane were her longtime girlfriend. She liked that. The other maids seemed so high-strung and tense.

“I’m not from here… in Europe, I mean. I’m from Trinidad. I came to Europe as a child too,” Jane admitted. She felt a weight lift from her shoulders. She wasn’t about to pretend to be something she wasn’t.

“An island girl like myself? Who would have thought. What a peculiar place for us to be, no?”

“Peculiar indeed.”

“So I take it you’re not a former Kings gift? Or rather a Bastard to a Duke or Marquis?” Mary said playfully, with a suspicious tone.

Jane held back a laugh. “What gave it away?”

“You look me in the eye when you talk.”

Jane pondered that for a second. She remembered those days slaving away over a stove, serving a dish to people who couldn’t see her. She was invisible. Over time, that invisibility became a comfort.

“And if they were to look you in the eye, they would only be looking at their reflection in it,” Jane quipped absentmindedly. Mary let out a high-pitched laugh.

“What was your job before this?” Mary asked, working quickly and already finishing the back and crown of Jane’s head.

“Cook. I have fingertips of steel. I could probably wrap my hand around that rod and not feel a thing,” Jane joked.

“Explains the humor. Well, Madame Jane, I can tell that you and I are going to get along just fine,” Mary grinned knowingly.

The two fell into chatter and banter like friends. Mary was funny, and she seemed to know so much about everything. Jane even had to excuse herself from cursing a few times as it slipped out. Mary found it funny. The connection could only be explained as the harmony of having a conversation with another woman—there was nothing quite like it. And while Roman was the keeper of her secrets, he preferred to pacify and soothe. But talking to a woman—there was something almost spiritual about it. The idea that someone would just “get it,” whatever that “it” might be. The comfort in knowing that somewhere, your stories lined up, even if just for an instant.

Mary pinned Jane’s hair in a rolling pattern that accentuated her long neck. She left a singular thick curl hanging down against her shoulder. Then she dusted Jane's hairline with a pink sparkly gold powder that matched her pale pink dress and makeup. Jane gasped when she saw herself in the mirror.

“What do you call this style?!”

“The tête de mouton, or sheep's head. The ladies in Paris love this style.”

“I see why. Wow, I’ve never looked like this before. I mean, you practically did magic!” Jane exclaimed, brushing a finger against the curl on her shoulder.

“I am very pleased you like it, madame. Now one moment. The governess wants to meet with you before breakfast. I’ll see you soon,” Mary said, stepping back and curtsying before leaving the room.

Jane stood in front of the mirror, eyeing every detail. She’d never looked so beautiful. She pondered if the novelty of being dressed and styled to perfection wore off for wealthy women. She could never tire of this—of feeling pretty.

The governess broke her out of her trance with a clearing of her throat. Jane turned around and curtsied. The governess returned the gesture and walked further into the room. Jane couldn’t help but feel that these sorts of greetings were growing tiresome. The governess was a serious woman but kind enough. “Don’t worry about curtsying back to the help. A short, quick curtsy to ladies of the court is fine. More dramatic and precise curtsies are suitable for nobility. Just remember to bow to the Duke and Duchess. They are to be referred to as 'Your Grace.' We will go over other things for your Versailles trip. Are you ready?” she said.

Jane sensed that the governess was in a rush, so she didn’t bother to ask any questions yet. “I am.”

“Splendid. Follow me,” said Beatrice. Their heels tapped against shiny winding staircases. It took every bit of five minutes to reach the entrance of the dining room. Two guards stood on either side of the double doors and opened them for the pair.

“Madamoiselle Jane of London,” a white-wigged announcer called from the back of the room. It nearly startled Jane, but she stepped into the path of the room and walked through the doors. A ridiculously long table, which nearly stretched across the entire room, revealed little Eloise, the Duke, the Duchess, Roman, and Caden. Each corner of the room had a guard, and a line of cooks stood near the entrance of the kitchen. Everyone stood as the Duke and his wife joined hands and walked closer to where Jane stood. She bowed alongside the governess, muttering “Your Grace” and “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, I can’t help it!” Charlotte lunged for Jane and wrapped her arms around her. She was a pale woman with curly, frizzy strawberry-blonde hair, large downturned green eyes, a button nose, and a bow-shaped mouth. She had a single mole on her right cheek. Slightly shorter than Jane, her comically large bust nearly cut off Jane’s circulation when she squeezed her so tight.

“Hi, call me Charlotte! Arnaud has told me so much about you two. You’re even more gorgeous than Roman could have ever described in the letter. I’m so happy to have you here!” the woman squeaked. Her British accent surprised Jane. Blinking at her with a flustered look, Jane smiled at the radiant woman before her. Charlotte had a porcelain-doll quality, and her bubbly personality fit her well; however, Jane hadn’t expected her voice to be so high.

“Nice to meet you, Charlotte.”

The Duke offered his hand for a shake, and Jane took it, happy to be over with the formalities. “Arnaud, It’s so nice to finally meet you. I hope you enjoy your stay here in Paris.” His French accent was thick, but she understood him clearly. Arnaud was tall, almost as tall as Roman. He had a thick beard, slanted almond eyes, a broad nose, full downturned lips, and dark skin. For a moment, the concept didn’t register, and a blank stare crept onto Jane’s face as she held his hand.

“You’re the Duke ?” she asked, dumbfounded.

A knowing smile crept onto Arnaud’s face. “I have my paperwork to prove it if you don’t believe me.”

“No—sorry. I mean… you know what? Never mind,” Jane scrambled to find the words.

“Relax. I get it. Not what you were expecting,” Arnaud laughed.

“Well… no,” Jane sputtered.

Suddenly, something tiny and furry ran through the gap between Jane’s feet, causing her to nearly stumble off balance. Arnaud caught her. A tiny body pushed past her feet on all fours, yelling in French.

“Mauvais chat! Come back here!” Eloise shouted.

“Good heavens!” the Governess gasped, clutching her chest. Eloise was chasing a white fluffy cat around the expensive dining room on all fours, meowing like a cat.

“Eloise! What did I tell you about chasing that cat?! Get off the floor! You’re terrorizing the poor thing!” Charlotte dodged for the little girl, crawling on the ground herself as Eloise chased the cat under the dining table. It was truly a sight to see, as most high born mothers did not bother reprimanding or even parenting their children.

Jane wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to laugh, but she had never seen anything like it in her life. Then the guards started chasing after all three of them—the cat, Eloise, and the Duchess—trying to prevent an accident and stop the cat from running up the drapes.

Arnaud turned to Jane with a tired look. “One thing I can say—I am never bored in this house.”

“I can see that,” Jane chuckled as he walked her to her seat next to Roman.

Roman pulled her chair out for her, and she took a seat, taking in all the wonderful dishes. A male servant greeted her and set a plate in front of her. The Duke sat across from them as if utter chaos wasn’t unfolding in front of them and started loading Jane’s plate with food. No one of Arnaud’s status had ever served her food.

She could feel Roman draw closer as he whispered, “You look stunning.”

“I hope so after how long it took to get ready,” she smiled.

Roman took her hand and kissed the back of it. Jane looked to Caden, who had been quiet as a mouse this entire time, watching Charlotte crawl past him with a determined look on her face as she grabbed hold of Eloise’s leg. Suddenly, Roman shifted in his seat and caught Eloise with one hand, lifting her in the air. There was a tiny shrill of her voice before she went limp in his iron grip.

“Pas juste!” she pouted. (No fair)

To Jane’s surprise, Roman muttered, “La vie n'est pas juste,” chuckling at the cat darting underneath the chairs before it was caught by a guard. (Life is not fair)

“Maybe for you,” Eloise teased.

Charlotte grabbed the child and quickly swatted her on the bottom, though it made no difference given how thick the child’s dress was. Instead, she just snickered as the governess took her to her room. Charlotte fixed her hair and straightened her dress before sitting down next to her husband. Order was restored to the room as Charlotte regained her breath. Arnaud looked to his wife and whispered something to her that caused her to giggle.

“I apologize that you all had to be subjected to that chaos. Eloise is a very advanced child, which means that left to her own devices, she will attempt to dominate whoever or whatever is in her vicinity,” Arnaud admitted. He almost looked proud of it, which made Jane look away to avoid laughing even harder.

“We hope the food is to your liking,” Charlotte added. They dug into the food, and at first, there was just the quiet of chewing and plate scraping. Then Caden decided to break the silence.

“So, Arnaud, how did you and Roman meet?” asked Caden. Jane finally got a good look at him now. A year’s worth of grime had been washed from his light chocolate hair, and he looked every bit of his teenage years—so baby-faced and bushy-tailed. He wore a matching brown jacket with black trousers. His hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. He looked uncomfortable, which was understandable. Although Roman and Jane had interacted with nobility in the past, Caden had never even seen a palace up close. Jane would be sure to check in with him when she had the chance.

“Roman and I are what one might say—adopted. We have a very similar backstory. We met when I took a trip to Germany as a young boy. The king was negotiating with their territory, and I saw someone my age playing in the ballroom. No introductions needed. Instant friends.”

“And he’s been a pain in my arse ever since,” Roman grumbled.

“Who are you telling? I can’t get rid of you,” Arnaud bantered.

“So I suspect your home is a bit further away?” Jane asked curiously. She hoped she wasn’t being too forward, but she had to know.

“Sierra Leone, actually.”

“I see,” a sad expression crossed her face. He was indeed a long way from home, just as she and Roman and Mary were—a feeling so unique from regular homesickness.

“What about yourself?” asked Arnaud.

“Trinidad, originally.”

One of his brows twitched in surprise. “How on earth did you two meet?”

“He… saved my life, actually.”

Roman rubbed the back of his neck. Jane didn’t understand his hesitance. “Long story…”

Jane took his hand and placed it on his lap subtly, not wanting to draw attention. It was reassurance. She felt safe to open up a bit. Arnaud and Charlotte were already drawn in, judging by their concerned expressions.

Jane cleared her throat. No turning back now. “Yes… he found me. The ship I was traveling on had a terrible accident. I was floating on a life raft for God knows how long. He found me and helped me get better. That was over a year ago. I owe my life to him.”

“You’ve saved my life as well. You have no debt with me, I assure you,” Roman muttered back quietly.

“Wow… what a strange way to meet a person. I’m so very glad you’re here with us, Jane,” said Charlotte.

“Who are you in relation to Roman?” Arnaud asked Caden.

“Roman took me in when I was young. He’s looked after me ever since. If you start meeting a lot of his friends, you’ll notice a pattern: everybody owes them their life. He nursed me back to health too. I think he has an affinity for finding the strays of the world,” Caden joked.

Arnaud let out a quick snort. “Very maternal, that one.”

“Now you’re pushing it,” Roman warned Arnaud. He chortled at Roman’s irritation.

“What about you, Charlotte? How did you and Arnaud meet, and how long have you been together?” asked Jane.

“A tavern in Southwark. His carriage broke down, and he came inside to have dinner. I served him. That was seven years ago now,” Charlotte smiled as she remembered the day fondly. Jane was even more confused.

“Served him?” Jane tilted her head.

“Why yes, I can only sell the highborn act for so long. I served beer to drunkards for a living, darling. My father was a farmer,” she giggled.

And there it was. Charlotte had a very approachable quality about her. Despite how pretty she was, there was a carefreeness to her that only someone working in the general public could have.

But how on earth was that marriage approved? Let alone them being from two very different parts of the world. However, Jane didn’t want her questions to come off as rude. She’s asked enough questions. One thing was for certain: they were an intriguing pair. Opposites certainly attract. She could tell Charlotte was the wild one, and Arnaud was the relaxed one. Perhaps she and Roman weren’t so different when it came to opposites. Jane had a tendency to be more reserved and withdrawn. It took time for her to get out of her shell. Roman was more straightforward, rougher around the edges. He wasn’t loud, but he wasn’t quiet either. He was just right for her, just opposite enough to make her a better person.

Breakfast was a surprising delight. The conversation was hysterical. Roman and Arnaud, as storytellers, were quite the pair. They were almost like siblings the way they shared mannerisms and inflections at times. Before they knew it, they had been sitting at the table for two hours.

Plans were made. There would be an official welcome dinner with all members of the Duke and Duchess's court. There were plenty of people that Jane hadn’t met yet. After that, Charlotte raved about the Opera with the live orchestra that she wished to invite Jane and Roman to. Jane had never been to a ballet, nor had she seen an orchestra play live before.

Until then, Arnaud took them on an expansive tour of the palace, which took every bit of an hour. She had no idea how or why the home of someone had to be so big. But it’s easy to forget just how many people lived in the palace: servants, soldiers, teachers, cooks, doctors and nurses, animal attendants, gardeners, and more. Not to mention the courtiers and advisors who lived there simply to keep the nobles company. The acreage was just as expansive. There was a vast greenhouse, gardens, orangeries, and horse pastures. Each bedroom was practically a mini museum, with portraits of the long line of royalty that once lived in the palace. Thankfully, there weren’t any in the bedroom they shared.

The rest of the day would be spent at her leisure. Charlotte decided to ride horses with Eloise. Arnaud and Roman went to have a drink on the balcony. They had a lot of catching up to do. She took this opportunity to have tea time, which apparently involved relaxing in a room lined with oil paintings, satin pillows, and floor-to-ceiling windows that swung open like doors. She brought Caden along with her.

“Are you okay?” Jane asked him quietly. The boy had his feet swinging over the side of the couch as he stared up at the mural above him.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked with an inquisitive tone.

“Because I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I think they’re a bit strange. Not my idea of nobility. But I guess that’s a rather good thing, considering that with a warrant, Europe would be searching for Roman with dogs by now,” Caden scoffed.

“I think they’re rather sweet. Though I can’t imagine how people must talk about them behind their backs. Those poor people,” Jane muttered quietly.

“She probably gets the worst of it. She said that she’s a commoner, right?”

“Yes, which is why I don’t know how it happened. He must have some sort of favor. I don’t imagine an old king being nice enough to grant somebody their true love. It’s always duty and sacrifice with that bunch.”

“Rich people problems. Beats me,” Caden shrugged.

“How quickly you forget that you are, in fact, a rich man now. Though you’ve barely spent any of it quite yet. I’m very proud of you. Don’t let Rory set an example,” Jane sighed. Rory had suddenly decided he needed a new fur coat collection for the winter, which wouldn’t be for months.

“Why thank you Mother,” Caden teased. Jane chuckled. At times, Caden really did act like a teenager, which warmed her heart.

The room fell silent as she thought about their arrival for the trip. She understood Roman wanting to visit an old friend. But this was such a stark difference from what she was used to. With the way he talked about royalty, she never expected him to have any friends that were still affiliated. She felt there was more than one reason as to why they were here. She didn’t sense any malice or ill intent, thankfully, but he was so subliminal about the whole ordeal.

“Has Roman ever talked to you about Paris?”

“Taking you there, yes. Said something about how he had something special planned for you and to be on my best behavior, blah blah blah,” Caden sighed, turning over to face the cushion of the couch. “I’m taking a nap. Those bloody white-wigged bastards woke me up at 5 in the morning to dress me like some stupid baby. I’m tired.”

Jane scoffed and chugged the rest of her tea before retreating to her bedroom for the afternoon. Roman hadn’t come back yet, and she was starting to miss him. She had been informed that he’d gone into town, which surprised her. She would have gone with him had he asked her.

Later that evening, as the sun went down, Jane prepared for dinner with the court. This was an observed dinner with everyone from the Duke and Duchess's court included. Touch-ups were made to Jane’s hair and makeup. She changed into a deep blue dress. The bust, sleeves, and creases of the dress were trimmed with delicate black lace. The skirt was dramatic and wide, with flared sleeves, and the forearm of the dress was flared. She liked that this dress contrasted with the light, airy nature of the first dress. The finishing touch was a black lace choker, a smudge o black on the waterline, and a fake mole on her cheek. Face dots were especially popular here in France, and some women would cover their faces with them. Jane opted for just one. She changed into black heels, and a sheer glitter was added to her hairline. A matte dark red lipstick gave the look the perfect finish. A knock on the door grabbed Jane’s attention. It was Roman, holding a box in his hand. He had changed, and his hair fell down his back in damp waves.

“That will be all for now, ladies. Thank you,” she excused the group. The maids curtsied and left. Roman shut the bedroom door and closed the distance between them, standing behind the chair she sat in. The two of them faced a large mirror that nearly spanned the entire wall. “You are never wearing pirate hand-me-downs again. I forbid it when you look like that.”

A small smirk ghosted across Jane’s mouth before she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Where have you been all day?”

“Oh, have I upset you with my absence?” Roman slyly leaned down and kissed the side of her neck. It took everything in her not to fall into him the way she usually would, to submit to the heat of his touch as she always had.

“I missed you. I had nobody to talk to. Caden went to sleep. It would have been nice to have company. I don’t know my way around here,” she pouted. Roman brushed his lips against her soap-scented skin.

“I went to the city to buy you something special to wear with your dinner dress,” he taunted. Carefully, he twirled the box in his hand and placed it in her lap. He pulled out a smaller second box and placed it on the table.

“You can’t open the little box quite yet. But this one is for tonight,” he explained. Jane hesitantly took the larger box, all blue and wrapped in red ribbon. She pulled off the silk and lifted it open to find a sizable necklace filled with sapphires and diamonds. She gasped at the way it glinted against the fireplace light.

“Roman… this must have cost you a fortune,” her hand flew to her mouth as she lifted it up, feeling the heaviness of it.

“Well, I couldn’t let you make your appearance without something special. These sorts of dinners are all about status, no matter how much they deny it. Having something nice on is a great way to avoid being treated poorly or ignored. It’s also a fantastic icebreaker. I can’t imagine what I’ll do if you are mistreated and I’d rather not find out. This will be a good conversation starter. I think it will match with your light blue dress. You can wear it for your portrait tomorrow.”

It took a moment for Jane to register what he was saying at first. “...My portrait?” she asked.

“Yes, your portrait. Here, let me see how it looks.” Jane reached up to take off her choker. He gently pulled the necklace from her grasp and placed it around her neck. She turned her neck to admire the way it sparkled. Truthfully, Jane wanted to inquire about the portrait, but there was so much going on at once that the thought slipped her mind when the jewelry hit her skin.

Her fingers graced the smooth stone. “It’s beautiful... I love it,” she murmured.

“ You wear it well”, he compliments.

“Will you walk with me to dinner?”.

“It would be my honor.”

They dressed Roman in what was called the habit à la française: his coat, waistcoat, breeches, silk stockings, jabot, cotton shirt, decorative cuffs, and cravat. His coat and breeches were a deep gray color. It complemented her outfit, and that’s when she realized that the people who dressed them corresponded. Beatrice escorted them to the great hall, and the doors opened for them, revealing a full room of people that looked like they wanted to eat her alive.

Roman POV

When you were presented before a court, you were sized up. It was one of the things he hated most about prestigious society. Roman wasn’t here for his health. A future for Jane must be secured, and in order to do that, he would be metaphorically offering the love of his life up to vultures. Except these vultures—more akin to peacocks—were flashy, rich, perfectly powdered, yet rotten on the inside. This would be their reality for the next two and a half hours.

The royal announcer called their names, ringing the dinner bell to hungry hounds as hollow, glistening, depraved eyes landed on the pair of them. Caden had already snuck his way into the room, his youth allowing him to sink into the background in a way they couldn’t. They paid their respects to the Duke and Duchess. Next came their courtiers and other members of rank. Jane’s bow was perfect. Charlotte kissed both sides of her cheek to show favor, something to sway the court. There would be a wait for dinner, and the great hall was full of bigwigs talking about feeble nonsense.

There were whispers, snickers, glares, and stares. Most of them were from the women, which was to be expected. Roman wasn’t particularly fond of the men and their obvious gawking. He and Jane stood near the dual windows overlooking the courtyard. Carts of beverages were rolled around. Roman grabbed a glass of champagne, while Jane chose water. She lifted the glass to her lips, her eyes widening as it fizzed against her palate.

“There’s something wrong with this water,” she warned.

“There’s nothing wrong. It’s supposed to be that way,” he chuckled at her shock as she cautiously took another sip.

“It’s bubbly… why is it bubbly?”

“Vichy water. It’s sparkling mineral water from Vichy, France, from the volcanic region. It has salts and healing properties. Sometimes they use it to treat gout or an upset stomach. Some people just like the taste.” He watched as she took small sips. She shrugged it off, seemingly satisfied with the sensation of the fizzing.

She fidgets, “Should I make conversation?” she asked hesitantly, looking around the room.

“No. Let them come to you.”

“How do you even know it’s me they’re staring at? It could easily be you. Pretty men are a rarity.”

A knowing smile crossed Roman’s face. “I’m not much of a crowd favorite. I wasn’t particularly known for my charming attitude prior to you. You’re shiny and new; I’m old news.”

Before Jane could even protest, a woman walked up. It was Madam Bernard. She was a woman in her late 30s, a member of Charlotte’s court and an official lady-in-waiting. Madam Bernard was a gossip but usually the most curious. She was also bitter that Roman would not bed her in his younger years. He nearly stepped protectively in front of Jane when her ghostly powdered face came into view. He resisted.

“Lady Jane, a pleasure to meet you. I go by Madam Bernard,” she smiled at Jane. Her teeth were always strangely sharp at the corners—an unnerving quality. Jane curtsied briefly.

“I believe we have met, Monsieur,” Bernard turned to Roman, a wicked glint bouncing off her eyes. Roman nodded stoically, not giving her the satisfaction of a true greeting.

“Where on earth did you get a necklace like that?”

“It was a gift,” Jane smiled, her disposition flustered.

Madam Bernard motioned toward Jane’s outfit. “It’s absolutely marvelous. And your dress… blue is your color, my darling.”

“That’s very kind of you to say,” Jane smiled. The room could smell her nerves. But this wasn’t Roman’s time to step in—not yet. Jane was more capable than most. This room, these people, were no different from the English—hungry with an appetite that would never be fulfilled. Jane knew how to navigate it. Two and a half hours. Just two and a half hours, and they’d be alone again. He was capable. She was capable.

So, with reluctance, he allowed their conversation to flow. He watched from afar. Eventually, Madam Bernard carried her off to her den of gossipers, and Jane was off and away. She mingled. She laughed. She twirled around in her dress to choruses of “Ooh la la!” and “Magnifique!”

One glance at Arnaud across the room. He looked miserable—he usually was at these kinds of gatherings. He cast Roman a knowing look as he held up a glass to his friend from afar. Roman did the same. Caden wandered over to him, snacking on a tray of berries now.

To Roman’s surprise, Jane had come out of her shell. She worked half the room. People came up in droves to speak with her. A kiss on the back of her hand had him adjusting his collar to keep himself cool. Jane was receptive, inviting, smiley, polite, careful. There was no doubt about it: Jane was beautiful. No matter how much anyone tried to ignore it, no matter how much she fit outside the lines of the standard for the region, Jane was beauty with a face. Parisians took eye-fulls of beautiful women with no shame. He also understood that there was a novelty to Jane. Nobody in the court looked like her. That was a cause for curiosity. Still, there was a thin line between intriguing, obsession, and possession. Nobility liked to own more than anything. But she knew that. Jane was a smart girl.

The courtiers were strange the way they struck up conversation. Topics were never meaningful. They believed their leaders to be invested more than they really were. Aside from who they served, they thought of themselves as supporting characters. They treated the room as their stage, believing others were paying more attention than they actually were. Maybe they were right, because Roman couldn’t help but notice how peculiar they were. Men would come up to Jane and ask her about the weather or talk about how hot the room was. They would randomly include her in conversations she wasn’t part of. They would say, “There are a lot of people here today,” with not so much as a hello. Jane remained unperturbed —careful, receptive.

Dinner was ready, and droves of chefs and servants flooded the hall to prepare the table. The Duke and Duchess would sit first. As Jane and Roman were seated, he could see the wheels turning in her mind.

“Do not touch your food until the Duke starts eating. Then you may eat. Use your utensils from the outside in. You start with the utensil furthest from the plate. Your fork is down on the table between bites,” he whispered quietly to her. He placed a napkin in her lap and then his. He could see a worried look on Jane’s face.

“If you get lost, just copy me,” he soothed. She gave him a quick nod and turned her attention back to the Duke, who quickly thanked everyone for joining him for the evening.

Dinner went on quietly. Roman shared quick glances with Jane. The man next to her struck up conversations about fashion and his favorite dishes. Jane chose Coq au Vin—or rather, the “red chicken,” which the gentleman found funny. He knew she didn’t speak French, so he ran down a list of French cuisines, sharing his favorites as well. This interaction was the least condescending or infantilizing conversation he’d heard directed at her all evening. It gave Roman room to relax.

After the main course, there would have to be a wait for dessert. Roman planned to excuse himself to the restroom, but a commotion could be heard behind the double doors of the great hall. In walked King Joseph De Pointe. The entire room rose as his presence was announced. He had aged severely since Roman last saw him decades ago. It was as if a ghost had walked into the room. He stood about 5'10", medium-built with a bit of a stomach from old age, and he had a militant walk. As he walked to the center of the room, everyone he passed bowed in his honor. The Duke and Duchess swiftly walked toward him and bowed deeply at his presence. He whispered something to the Duke, and they both looked at Jane. Now Roman knew why he had come so early into the trip; he wasn’t supposed to meet Jane for at least another two weeks.

From the outside looking in, it might not seem that a commoner would mean so much to the King, that he would interrupt dinner to meet her. But he would. The Persians are just that vain, and nobility is even vainer. It matters that Jane is beautiful; it matters that Jane is poised. It matters how they look together. And while a favor is owed, he has the final say. He who is associated with the crown is someone of purpose and beauty. One has to know how to perform.

The old man walked across the large open circle of the connecting dining tables that filled the room and headed straight for Jane. Roman whispered quickly, “Do not look him directly in the eye.”

“Why?!” she whispered.

“It’s an invitation.”

James's eyes widen before she lowers them. The King now stood directly in front of her. Roman bows first, followed by Jane, who says, “Your Majesty.” His eyes scan Jane as she nervously stares past him. The intensity of his gaze prompts Roman to gently wrap his arm around Jane’s waist. The King looks up at Roman as if he has suddenly appeared from thin air.

“Très bien,” he calls to the Duke over his shoulder.

He falters on his feet as little arms wrap around his leg. Startled, he bursts into a hearty chuckle as he picks up Eloise and holds her in his arms. She is happy to see her adoptive grandfather. She has no inkling of the atrocities and chaos he has caused in other countries. She does not understand his alignment with eugenics or the people he has left hungry in the streets of Paris. All she knows is the warmth and adoration of her grandfather, who is not of her blood. In some sick and twisted way, it is a testament to how powerful love can be and proof of how many people are undeserving of it. Maybe karma isn’t real. Maybe one’s own torturer is not holed up in a cognitive doom, regretful, reflective, and repentant. Even the worst of people live their lives and move on. At the very least, their victims should, too. And that’s why he must take the life Jane is owed.

Whispers hum across the court as people notice the interaction between Jane and the King. They wonder about her importance. This is a good thing; it will earn favor—anything to make her interactions within the court easier.

The King stays for dessert, and there’s another 20 to 30 minutes of mingling before people begin to retreat for the night. Proper farewells are given to those who require them. Roman escorts Jane back to their guest suite.He watches as she removes parts of her outfit while storming down the hall, moving quickly as they pass their posted Butler.

“30 minutes please, Joffrey,” says Roman.

“Very well, sir,” the butler responds.

Roman shuts the door, and Jane stands in front of the mirror, angrily taking the pins out of her hair. Her hair falls into long, voluminous curls that cascade onto her shoulders. She reaches for her corset, too proud to ask him for help.

“Let me get that,” Roman insists.

“NO!,” she barks.

Roman retreats from the sting of her tone and tosses his jacket on the floor as he sits on their bed. He runs a hand down his face, knowing he’s in for an earful. “Tell me what I’ve done.”

“What sort of agreement do you have with the Duke that the king of France is having a staring contest with me in front of a hundred fucking people?” she sneers.

Roman sighs.“Jane…relax.”

Her eyes narrow suspiciously. “Are you planning on giving me away? Are you trying to send me off with one of those rich old men?” she presses.

He stands at the accusation.“What!? N-No. I love you. Why would I do that?”

Her breathing is labored. Her eyes shoot around the room as if she’s coming up with a plan. “I won’t be his mistress or anybody’s mistress. I’m not marrying anybody you set me up with. You can act like it’s for the best or you’re doing me some favor by whoring me out but I’ll sooner die! If we’re done, then have the guts to say it, but I’m not staying here if—”

Roman’s eyes nearly buck out of his head as he rushes into her space, holding his hands up in surrender as he tries to reason with her. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!!! Let’s start over,”He can see the beginnings of that familiar panicked and trapped look returning to her—one he hasn’t seen in a long time, and it turns his stomach. He wishes not to return to that dynamic.

“Why would you think that I would ever send you away? You are my heart's keeper, Dove. You know this,” Roman says, pulling her hands into his and pressing the backs of her fists to his mouth. She turns her head away in protest. He gently grabs her chin and holds it between his fingers. Her eyes are glassy with tears as she tries to cover sadness with anger.

“I’m not going anywhere. You aren’t going anywhere. You are mine as long as you allow it. Let me explain it all to you. You’ll let me explain?” He presses his forehead to hers. His tone is quiet, just above a whisper—a trick he learned to ease her anxiousness. If she could barely hear him, then she would have to focus on listening. It could stall her panic and help her calm down. She hesitantly nods but he can feel the panic steaming off of her.

“I came here to secure your future—our future. I wrote to Arnaud weeks ago and asked for his favor in securing an honorific lordship title. Arnaud holds favor with the King. The King has the final say on who gets appointed a title, so he came to see what you looked like and will make his final decision soon. He wants to see how well you handle yourself in high society before he agrees. The only reason he made haste with the request was because I made a sizable donation to his church. This tactic is common in people who want something from him. People looking for political immunity or people who want to sway his opinion,” Roman explains.

Jane’s eyes shift from confusion to sharp understanding. However, she pulls away. “I thought you never wanted this life again. Why are you going back to what caused you so much pain? We have money. We don’t need these people.”

“You’re right; we do have money. However, we have no home. We have no property besides Totoguam which isn’t adequate enough in size if we were to settle roots there. We don’t even have bank accounts or investments. We will always have to hoard our stash; otherwise, we risk being suspected of criminal activity. If I go back to that ship and sail to another pirate-filled port after all this time, they will know. I’ll be a walking target. I am done putting you in harm's way. I want stability for you. If it means that you are safe, it will always outweigh the cost,” he pleads. Jane’s gaze switches back and forth between his eyes. She’s reading him. Confusion is still etched on her face. He may not win her over.

Jane shakes her head in denial. “But you love the sea. Why subject the rest of your life to being around these people you hate? That’s a miserable existence. Shouldn’t your happiness matter too?”

“We would rarely make appearances. It would only be the most necessary parties that we attend, maybe three to four times a year. The countryside is three hours away from here, near the beach. We won’t have to worry about keeping up with the Paris court. We can make our home whatever we want. It can be a sanctuary for all our brothers when they need it. If we want to sail, we sail. If we don’t want to sail, then we don’t. My point is that we will have something to come back to Jane. Out there in the open sea—it’s all temporary. In a split second you could lose it all. This will give us the opportunity to have a real home. A true home, Jane,” he urges. Jane goes quiet, and Roman’s stomach sinks; she is still not sold on the idea.

He sighs a defeated breath as he steps back to give her space. Her body language is open but defensive. He drops her hands gently. “I should have consulted with you first. Maybe I didn’t because I knew you would be hesitant. I didn’t go about this the right way. It was never my intent to scare you. It’s just that ever since we met, I’ve started to really think about the future, Jane. You must understand, before you came into my life, I didn’t bother picturing what life would look like ten years from then. I lived moment to moment. But now that I have you, I must do this right. I must seize this opportunity to give you the life you deserve,” he says. She’s slightly disarmed, and her eyes trail down to his mouth and then back up to his eyes. It was funny that even during a disagreement he could still see the love she had for him. That ultimately, they both wanted to understand each other even when their views were different. He loved her…

“You’ve sprung this on me very suddenly. You’re right; you should have consulted with me. You have made your points and I can see how you would feel the way you do. I need some time to think about this. I can’t make any promises yet,” she crosses her arms hesitantly. She looks down at the carpet. Her lips twitched as if she wanted to say more.

Roman says nothing but continues to study her. She walks back over to the bed, putting her head in her hands. “This is a big step. And while we may be afforded solitude, there is still a duty to be fulfilled. How would we be any better than the people who have hurt us? No matter how low in rank, we would be part of this system.”

He walks to her space, standing in front of her. “We would be part of the French gentry, which are titled non-nobles. I would indeed have a vague association with the King, and that is something I’m willing to sacrifice morally to ensure your future. I’ve pondered this for many nights. If there has to be a bad person in this situation, then allow me to be the monster. I won’t pretend that I’m not selfish when it comes to you. You make me impulsive…you make me uncooperative and irrational at times. Maybe even most of the time. My condolences to whoever gets in the way. But I…I must have you, Jane. You and you only.”

His words burn in his mouth, but from the ensnared gaze she sends his way, she is on fire. She plays with her necklace and hair, biting her lip as she contemplates what he said.

“I’m not giving you an answer right away, no matter how convincing you are. I need time to think,” she mutters and stands. He doesn’t know why she feels the need to put her foot down, but he can at least afford her this. He’s already made the mistake of being sneaky. Now he must pay.

“That’s fine,” he says, stepping closer, and she doesn’t move. Another step, and she doesn’t budge. He goes in for a kiss, and she dodges it at the last minute, turning around so he can undo her corset.

Jane's POV

Jane doesn’t think she’s ever been so conflicted in her life. Deep down, she can’t believe that he would want to leave his pirate years behind. What about Caden? What about Adhar? What about everyone? Everyone had a different idea of what their future would look like. William left to make things right with his wife. Other pirates, like Daniel and Gregory, retired alongside dozens of other mates. Rory wanted to keep sailing, and so did Caden. Roman, being a lord, also meant she would be his wife eventually. Could she do that? Could she do it well? How much of their lives would they give up to conform to this new standard? If she married him, would he change as they fell into domesticity? Would there not be enough excitement to keep him interested? Worst of all, what if she began to feel trapped? If she married him, he would own her. Could she take that chance?

Roman wasn’t there when she woke up. The servants informed her that he had picked out what he wanted her to wear for the portrait: a light blue dress and no makeup. As she sat to get her hair done, she noticed that Mary hadn’t brought any heating tools. “No sheep’s head style today?”

Mary shook her head. “Monsieur Roman requested that you wear it down for your picture. But don’t worry; I will give you a more elaborate style before the show,” she promised.

“So be it,” Jane rolled her eyes at the mention of him. As annoyed as she was with him, the requests warmed her heart. She remembered those quiet nights on the boat when it felt like they were the only two people in the world. Perhaps she was scared of change.

Mary wet her hair and wrapped her coils around her fingers, section by section. Each strand was left shiny and wet, waiting to air dry. She took breakfast in the courtyard to speed up the process. Caden spent most of his days in the library, and he showed it to her. There were so many books and documents to choose from. She spent lunch there before she was sent off for her portrait. She didn’t even understand why she agreed to this, but it was something to do.

She was escorted down a winding staircase that led to a marble hall. All of the rooms on this floor were open. At the end of the hall, she could see the Duke sitting next to someone. Arnaud was in front of a canvas.

“Your Grace?” Jane called from the doorway.

“Ah, Jane. Come inside. Make yourself comfortable,” he said.

Jane walked into a room full of paint and plants. Every piece of furniture was covered in sheets. The windows were open, letting in a lukewarm breeze. Jane gasped as she saw portraits of people, animals, fruits, houses, and a baby who looked a lot like Eloise.

“You did these?!”

“Of course. Who else?” Arnaud smiled. The man next to him started to mix paints, solvents, and thinners. The smell was strong, which was why the windows were open. She didn’t mind it.

“Can I sit here?” Jane motioned for a seat by the window. Arnaud studied the lighting and shadows of the room and agreed. A servant offered her tea, and she accepted: two sugars and a splash of cream.

“I had no idea you were such a talented artist. Is that little Eloise as a baby?” Jane smiled, motioning to the canvases on the wall.

“Oh yes. She was about eight months old there,” Arnaud said fondly.

“What about these other people?”

“Some of them are from my court—people I’ve met over the years. Some of them are from dreams.”

“I’m jealous. It must be a hard skill.”

“It’s a lot easier than you might think. Most of it is just shading and blocking. It’s about looking at the overall picture before focusing on the details. You can mold a shadow into the silhouette of a woman with practice. A trick I always use is squinting my eyes as I paint the foundation before I focus on the finer details. I’ve gotten better with practice.”

“I’ve never thought about it that way.”

His assistant continued to add more colors to his palette before he bowed and left. “So how have you been enjoying your stay?” Arnaud asked.

Jane went to speak but hesitated. Has she been having fun? There had been enjoyable moments, but the conversation with Roman had been sobering. The interaction with the King was strange. “It has been… interesting.”

Arnaud stopped his blocking and paused to look at her for a moment. Jane nodded cautiously. “Roman and I had a discussion last night. He finally came clean about why we’re here.”

Realization spread across Arnaud’s face. He looked slightly guilty. “You’re not the one who’s in trouble,” Jane chuckled.

Arnaud threw her half a smile and began painting again, building the structure of the picture. “And how do you feel about the idea?”

“I’ve never been more confused about anything in my entire life.”

“Ms. Ramlal, speak freely if you must.”

Jane raised a brow at him. Did he really want to know? Or maybe Roman was friends with him because of their shared ideas? Arnaud had been nothing less than graceful since she met him. She didn’t want to offend him. His regality could be a bit intimidating despite his kindness.

“I’m not sure it would be wise.”

“Do you honestly suspect my utter allegiance to a place that held me hostage? At the very least, I afford myself criticism. Others are allowed the same,” Arnaud sighed tiredly.

Jane paused. Well, he had a point. “Roman had a very difficult time in his early years. Europe has caused him much pain. It’s caused me much pain. I wonder if us being a titled family would make us guilty for the suffering of others. He says that if it does, he’s okay with it. Roman has a habit of becoming tunnel-visioned when it comes to me. He is willing.”

“Roman has a head made of stone when he sets his mind on something,” Arnaud said. Jane chuckled.

“We won’t be nobles, just low-titled. He makes that distinction as if it makes things better. Perhaps it does. But we answer to the crown at some point. Even being here—buying these expensive luxury goods. In some way we are contributing to someone’s suffering. I have a hard time getting over it. Being on the other side of it can feel very strange.”

“In some ways, you do,” Arnaud agreed.

“I feel that if I accept this position, then I am betraying the woman I used to be. Betraying the women who I lived with and grew to know. Betraying people like me,” Jane sighed.

“Now I must speak freely,” said Arnaud. His tone loosened, falling out of that distant, respectable voice.

“Please,” Jane urged.

“The grim reality, Ms. Ramlal, is that you do not get paid for suffering.”

Jane froze at those words. They rolled off his tongue easily. They were slightly sharp when they hit her, but the kindness in Arnaud’s eyes reassured her.

“Women like you, people like you—there is no reward for the pain. You get this life, and then you pass on. They dangle the idea of upward mobility above your head to keep you running. The minute you return to the earth, someone fills in your spot. It’s how the system sustains itself. It sustains itself on the guarantee that you will struggle and never see that reward. Not just you, but millions—of people just like you. You are born in one specific position and that is your assigned role. Your duty it to stay at the post you were given at birth. Miraculously, impossibly, you have snuck past your assigned post and now you are here. You are not here as a servant, or a slave, or for entertainment. You are here by sheer luck. You have been given resources that were never intended for you. You have been given security that is supposed to be systematically withheld from you. You may very well be one of the only women with your background, your skin, your life to ever have some semblance of security. You weren’t stolen, you weren’t bought. You are here out of free will. I imagine that could be quite frightening in some aspects ?” Arnaud glanced at her while mixing two colors to get a light blue shade.

“It is,” Jane said, her tone quiet and inward now.

“ You are guilty of no crime. You are not a bad person for ending up here. I don’t want to push you into this. Please believe me when I say that… I speak only from the purest intent when I say this. I believe that the people who came before you—all the people who have struggled in your bloodline—all the people who loved you, none of them want you to suffer. None of them want your life to be any harder than it used to be. They never get to see the seeds they planted sprout and turn into trees.”

Jane was unmoving as she stared back at him. She never would have guessed that he would say such a thing, to be so introspective from his pedestal.

“Instead, you have a choice. A choice is a beautiful thing to have, trust me, Jane. And within that choice, you make it alongside a man who is irrevocably, unabashedly in love with you—a rarity, even among the most noble of them all. There is no force, no violence. Only a blank canvas waiting to be filled,” he said.

The room went silent now. Arnaud’s eyes shifted from her face to the canvas. He was likely blocking in her face and hair now. She took a few sips from her tea, yet another small discovery since being here. She had never had it before. It was spicy and warm on her tongue—cinnamon, orange, vanilla, and other flavors she couldn’t describe. Would every day be like this? A realization of just how small her world used to be?

For a moment, she nearly lost it. There was a knot forming in her throat, her palms becoming wet. Her composure was so close to snapping that it caused her to shift in her seat. This stranger gave her the permission she couldn’t even give to herself. She hated the way her voice wobbled. She hates the vulnerability of it all. But his presence is quiet and knowing. If she closed her eyes, she could believe he was a vessel from the other side in that moment—or maybe just a manifestation of his natural wisdom. “At times, I worry that I’ve made my pain my identity,” she says.

The look he gives her nearly blows her away. It’s a slip of his mask, too—an acknowledgment, a subtle nod to the idea, a quiet “me too.”

She finishes her tea, and now Arnaud is really working the canvas. A few minutes of silence pass before she gets the courage to ask about him—really ask about him. She sits up straighter and clears her throat. “ Since we’re speaking freely. How exactly did you end up in Paris?”

Arnaud inhales quietly as if he almost prepares himself to say the words. “If you’ve heard Roman’s story, then you’ve heard mine. Except I was actually royalty in my homeland. I was stolen—plain and simple. I was about seven years old. I was a gift to the ‘Angel of Versailles.’ That’s what they call Queen Angelique De Pointe here. The King and Queen already had seven children at that point. Angelique’s last child—a child about 7 years old, passed away. It was becoming popular in Europe to have one of our kind as companions. Angelique wanted one, and Joseph would stop at nothing to make her happy. That’s where I came into the picture.”

“Very similar stories. I’m glad you two at least had a friend in each other.”

Arnaud nods. “One of the better things to come out of it.”

“Your daughter seems to adore him,” Jane suggests.

“He formed a soft spot for her in particular. All of his grandchildren are boys. He even has tea parties with her at the palace. Remarkable, isn’t it? That someone like him could hold adoration in his heart for a small child that has no relation to him in any way. I certainly wasn’t afforded any of his affections as a child. Then again, why would I want it? I would hate to love my kidnapper. It would make it all the more complicated to identify what is love and what is not,” Arnaud shrugs.

“... Do you want her to have a relationship with him?”

“Yes. She’s far too young to understand. She will know one day. For now, he’s just her grandfather.”

“He must hold some affection for you, though. I mean, you are a Duke. You have a royal title. You have some pull in the monarchy. That’s unheard of. I thought most adoptees just faded away.”

“I’ve often wondered why he would go out of his way to title me as well. The only thing that could explain it…is that he is old. He has but so many years left. The closest atonement he has for his sins is to give people what they want. He knows the destruction he’s left in his path. You see, it’s the ego—the cognitive dissonance of all of it. There is a belief that if you are a winner, if you are a conqueror, if you are stronger, you are favored by God. You MUST be a good person because of the power you hold. I'm sure that men like him believe this to be true. I’m sure that’s how he reasons with the violence. At least that’s my theory.”

“He had trouble swallowing his food, I noticed. Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s old age… and guilt,” Jane says. Arnaud nods in agreement.

“Time has passed, and he has grown more tolerable. I'm no fool; I recognize that his growing friendliness toward me is less equal to that of a son and closer to how a man adores his dog. His children have married off and started their own families. For a while, I was the only one of his kids living at the palace. I regrettably and embarrassingly only started to live my life in my thirties. I was always there—reliable, constant. Thankfully, things started to look up when I met Charlotte. I wanted to give her a better life, so I started asking for more. He granted my wishes. I suppose that somewhere deep in his heart, buried in the most human parts of himself, he feels he owes me for all I’ve endured at his hands. Though the idea will never cross his mind in his wake.”

“I’m sorry…” Jane sighed sadly.

“It’s alright. It’s just the way life plays out sometimes. I have found parts of this world that belong to me alone, like my love for Charlotte, my beautiful daughter, my art, the home I’ve made of Palais Royal. This is the post I have made for myself. I will not abandon it.”

Jane smiles at the way his eyes light up as he talks about his family. His love for Charlotte is genuine, and Eloise is adored by everyone. “I’m happy you’ve found your family.”

“And so have you. Which is why I think you will be just fine if Roman becomes seigneur.”

“What exactly is a seigneur?”

“A seigneur, or lordship, is a feudal title appointed by His Majesty the King. He is granted a large piece of land to rule over. This land is governed by the seigneur, who lives on the land and builds a community. He establishes farms, crops, wheat mills, churches, manages taxes and tenants, and grants licenses. He organizes a town, and the people in it answer to him. Don’t worry about the land belonging to anyone else. The countryside of France is rural with not many inhabitants. Roman would most likely govern there.”

“I see. So essentially, Roman would have the power to create the community he wants?”

“Correct. Now, of course, there will be certain guidelines, but I’m sure he’ll find a way around them like he usually does. It would be whatever you two make it.”

“You very well may be saving him from sleeping in another room tonight,” Jane quipped.

A throat clears and it startles her. “Very bold of you to say, especially knowing you’d get the most horrible sleep of your life,” Roman scoffed.

Jane rolled her eyes at the smirk on his face. He strolls into the room and sat next to her on the couch.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I didn’t invite you to sit over here,” Jane sighed.

“Oh, don’t be like that. I just wanted to see how you were doing and ask if you’ll allow me in the room if I agree to sleep on the floor,” he smirks.

Jane shook her head, feeling a smile creep onto her lips. Roman leaned back into the couch, his long, muscular leg crossing over his knee. One of his arms sling over the seat as he stared back at her. He clearly felt no shame at her utter annoyance. There was nothing in his eyes but pure adoration, and his smile showed that he could feel hers, too.

“You know what? I think this picture would be much better with both of you in it,” Arnaud quips.

“Fine. How should I pose? Do we need to start all over again?” Jane asked.

“No. I’ve got your clothing down. I’ll just restart from the neck up. Just keep looking at him.”

And that’s how Jane found herself stuck staring at him for the next four hours. By the end, he had her laughing. He always did. He would say something, and she could feel the heat in the room rush to her skin. With nowhere to hide from the heat of his gaze, she was stuck. She should have known it was a ploy to get on her good side—and it worked. When Armaund left the room she pulled him down for a kiss.

After a quick dinner, the time for the Ballet was approaching. A deep red dress with black trimmings would match the theater curtains, or at least that’s what her stylist said. Jane had never been to a theater, and she was intrigued about how it would feel to finally sit inside one. Mary kept Jane’s natural curls but pinned them up in a pouf style, arranging her hair into a hive shape. A few face-framing curls pulled the look together. A ruby choker matched the color of her dress, but she kept her lips soft and bare; otherwise, it would be “too on the nose,” according to Gaston.

Gaston was a male makeup artist who wore gold on his eyes and rings on every finger. His accent was heavily Mediterranean, and he always wore a tightly curled white wig as a status symbol. Not only was his style eccentric, but so was he. He was rumored to be one of the best in Paris, so Jane trusted his judgment. The two agreed to repeat the same eye makeup on her as the night before. He would place a black kohl-like substance on her waterline. When she asked what it was called, Gaston recalled Arnaud’s friend's wife from North Africa. Apparently, she would smear a black color into her eyes to accentuate them.

“She used something called kajal! I made my own products to mimic it. It made her look so sultry. Like a cat! I absolutely loved it! But you know the French women here all want to look like children—so obsessed with wide eyes and pinched cheeks. Stupide et ennuyeux! I never get to experiment. This is why you are sent from heaven. You have yet to say no to me. Finally, somebody who lets me work!” Gaston gushed.

Jane laughed at the way he dramatically threw the back of his hand over his forehead. So far, there hadn’t been any misses with her assigned team of stylists. They always made her feel beautiful, and they were easy to talk to. Jane twirled in the mirror, admiring the final outcome of her look. “You are ready to own the night, Mon Cher. This will certainly get back to Versailles!” Gaston placed a jacket onto Jane’s shoulders.

“I take it you're in on the operation to get Roman and me titled as well? I’ve been walking amongst traitors.”

“You’re just now catching on? You’re a little late to the party, darling. Your beauty makes up for it. Now prepare to be copied. By the time they catch on, you’ll already be onto the next thing,” said Gaston.

Roman was quite pleased with the look. He stole many kisses in the carriage. Charlotte and Arnaud rode ahead of them and Jane couldn’t be more grateful for it. His beard burns across her décolletage as her fingers somehow loop themselves into his hair. What was once a ponytail was a tousled swell of silky black strands. Every time her hands would tug on his hair he would press into the side of her body harder—a welcomed punishment. She enjoyed the suffocation, the mugginess, the tight quarters. His teeth found her skin, gentle but alluring all the same. His mouth sucked the skin of her breasts leaving darkened flushed hues of pigment for anyone to see. Thank goodness for the low light of the theater. With many more appeasing yet reciprocal kisses, she convinced him that it was in fact important that they not skip the opera. After all, this was Jane’s first time.

“If you mess up my hair, we’re going to have a problem. Mary spent an hour on it,” Jane gently pressed her hand against her updo. It was still intact.

“What about me? My hair was pulled back before we got into this carriage, need I remind you? That’s not very fair,” he scoffed.

“It’s better down anyway,” Jane smirked.

Roman opened the carriage door and helped her down the steps. Arnaud and Charlotte stood near the entrance waiting for the pair. The sounds of horses stomping and neighing filled the stone-paved streets as carriages pulled up to attend.

“Watch your step; there’s horse shit everywhere,” Roman grumbled as he pulled her closer.

The tall, ornate doors, framed by intricate carvings of floral motifs and cherubic figures, loomed among the other buildings on the street. A marbled staircase, its steps worn smooth by the passage of countless patrons, ascended beneath a lavish canopy of crimson and gold fabric, fluttering softly in the evening breeze. Guests, adorned in their finest silks and lace, chatted animatedly, their laughter mingling with the strains of a distant orchestra. There were stares and whispers directed toward Roman and her; she had gotten used to it by now. The faint scent of perfume and the earthy notes of fresh-cut flowers from nearby arrangements wafted through the air, fighting against the smell of the horses. It dissipated the closer they got to the doors.

The towering columns seemed to reach the clouds, crowned by a grand pediment where allegorical figures danced in sculpted relief. The soft glow from within the theater spilled onto the steps. The foyer was noisy with the clicking of heels and the chatter of wealthy men and women. As they crossed the threshold into the auditorium, the stage revealed itself in all its splendor. Draped in deep crimson velvet, the proscenium arch was embellished with intricate golden filigree, framing a scene that was both inviting and magical. The stage itself, expansive and meticulously crafted, was decorated with lavish painted backdrops depicting ethereal landscapes, castles, and mythical realms.

The seating was arranged in a horseshoe formation, with plush, upholstered chairs in rich fabrics of burgundy and gold. Each seat was carefully positioned to afford an unobstructed view of the stage. Box seats lined the walls, each featuring velvet curtains that could be drawn to reveal or conceal the spectators within. These private enclaves, often reserved for the nobility, boasted intricate woodwork, showcasing the status of their occupants. The four of them would have the highest seats with a private catered booth.

Above, the ceiling soared—a magnificent expanse painted in soft pastels, depicting celestial scenes filled with cherubs and swirling clouds, as if the heavens themselves opened up to watch the stage. Ornate plasterwork framed the scenes, and the edges were lined with delicate gold leaf.

The theater buzzed with whispered conversations and laughter, the anticipation palpable as the lights dimmed, casting a soft glow over the audience. The smell of smoke was strong in the air. A waiter came with trays of tobacco, pipes, alcohol, and a small box placed discreetly in the back of the tray. He filled Charlotte and Arnaud's orders before turning to Roman.

“Brandy and a pipe. What about you?” Roman turned to her.

“The vermouth, please,” said Jane.

The waiter poured their drinks into sparkling, pristine crystal glasses. Her vermouth had oranges and limes in it.

“Oh, what is that?” Jane pointed to the carved black box on the serving platter.

“Snuff, madam. Would you like some?” the waiter asked.

“Does it go in the drink?” Jane asked curiously. Roman chuckled with Arnaud.

“You snort it, silly! It goes in the nose and makes you all fuzzy and happy. It’s like you drank ten cups of coffee. I’ll have some, sir,” Charlotte put out her hand and turned it over with her palm facing the ground. The server placed the powder on the back of her hand with a small scooper, and Charlotte sniffed it up.

“You don’t have to try it if you don’t want to,” Roman murmured quietly to her.

“Sensitive nose,” Jane excused. Charlotte looked a little disappointed but nodded.

“Don’t feel bad for Charlotte. She will find any excuse to party. You’ll see at the ball,” Arnaud chuckled.

“Not true,” Charlotte playfully rolled her eyes and scooted into Arnaud's lap. He patted the side of her thigh as he exhaled a puff of smoke.

“A ‘no’ is good for her every once in a while,” Arnaud joked. Charlotte flicked him on the forehead.

Roman took a small sip of his brandy and then a puff of his pipe. She drank a little from his cup. It wasn’t her favorite, but she deliberately placed her mouth on the part of the cup his lips touched. He caught her and his eyes darkened as he shook his head at her. She giggled mischievously when their eyes met.

Jane could see the wandering eyes of the other guests. Many people stole quick glances at the group. She wondered if they were glances of offense; it was often hard to tell with the Parisians. Either way, they had no authority to reprimand or kick them out. For once in her life, Jane felt untouchable—comfortable in a place that did not prioritize her comfort. Maybe it was their incredible hosts or just being alongside the man she loved. Jane sipped her own drink as she opened the brochure for the show while the curtains opened. The show began, and the room darkened. A single light appeared on the stage.

Iphigénie en Tauride is a tragic opera based on the myth of Iphigenia, daughter of Agamemnon. The story unfolds as Iphigenia, saved from sacrifice by the goddess Artemis, finds herself in Tauris, where she serves as a priestess. Her brother Orestes arrives, pursued by the Furies for avenging their father’s murder. The siblings, unaware of each other’s identities, are caught in a web of fate, sacrifice, and familial duty, ultimately leading to a reunion and a quest for redemption.

The experience of watching Iphigénie en Tauride was enthralling and emotional for Jane. The stage props depicted the rugged landscape of Tauris, enhanced by dramatic backdrops and oversized body parts like hands and heads. The costumes of the actors were rich and ornate, with performers clad in flowing robes that reflected their noble heritage and emotional trials.

As the music swelled, she was captivated by the powerful arias and choruses, her emotions stirred by the blend of tragedy and beauty. The orchestra was so loud that the vibrations of the music rumbled in her chest. The gas lamps flickered above, casting a warm glow that highlighted the faces of rapt spectators as they reacted to the unfolding drama. Gasps, tears, and applause rippled through the crowd, creating a shared experience of profound themes of love, sacrifice, and fate that resonated with everyone in some way.

Jane was moved to tears. It was embarrassing at first, but then she realized just how many others were affected. Plenty of men cried alongside the women. Roman pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Jane, and she blotted her face with it.

“I would pay good money to see this for the first time again. I was like you,” Charlotte sighed as she fanned herself.

“How many times have you been?” Jane asked.

“This is my second year seeing it and my tenth time. It’s my favorite,” Charlotte swooned.

“The things we do for love. Grab your coat. ” Arnaud said, taking a final hit from his pipe and pulling Charlotte up from her seat. He placed her coat on her shoulders as she finished her glass of wine.

“I suppose those were tears of enjoyment?” Roman asked as he helped her into her coat.

“Enjoyment. Sadness. Relief. I’ve never seen anything like it. I wish we didn’t have to go,” Jane pouted.

“I’ll bring you back for another show,” Roman chuckled as they walked down the stairs to the foyer.

“Opera isn’t your forte, is it?” Jane suggested.

“I’m familiar with the arts. I’ve indulged in them to the point of apathy. But seeing you experience it was the best part of the night,” Roman replied.

The four of them were swallowed up in the crowd heading for the doors. When the night air hit them, Jane felt energized after such an intense show. She wasn’t ready to end the night.

“You two fancy a nightcap back at home?” Arnaud asked.

“Actually, I think we’re going to take the long way home. Don’t wait up for us,” Roman said.

Charlotte and Arnaud wished the two of them goodnight. Jane was happy to be out with just Roman. He tipped the valet and led Jane down the paved streets.

She was thankful she had taken a coat. She looped her arm around Roman’s as he led the way; he had a far better idea of where they were than she did. As the moon cast a silver glow over the cobblestone streets of Paris, she couldn’t help but notice the liveliness. Even though it was late, many people were still out and about.

Jane’s dark dress whispered against her ankles as she glanced up at the ornate facades of the buildings, their windows darkened, some lit by a single candle. Roman, tall and composed, occasionally pointed out the elegant details of the architecture, his voice low and warm against the backdrop of the night. The air was cool, filled with the faint scent of baking bread.

They passed the Seine, where the water glimmered like scattered diamonds, and the distant sound of laughter from a tavern mingled with the soft rustle of leaves. Groups of couples rode past them on bicycles.

A flickering lantern illuminated their path, and they paused for a moment, taking in the beauty around them. Jane marveled at how the night transformed Paris into a romantic tableau. As they continued their walk, the distant tolling of church bells marked the hour, a gentle reminder of time slipping away. Jane leaned closer to Roman, comforted by his presence. She had never been so enthralled and present in her environment. Jane had never people-watched or taken time to notice the beauty of London. Where was the time? Was there any beauty? Maybe if she had been happier back then, she could have found it. Roman squeezed her hand gently, grounding her in the present—a habit he had formed when he noticed her mind racing. It still perplexed her how he could tell when her thoughts were elsewhere. Jane perked up and looked at him.

“Don’t I owe you an ice cream?” he asked quietly. It took a moment for it to register before a knowing grin spread across her face.

“Yes, you do. You promised,” she chuckled.

“Well, I don’t break my promises. Let’s hunt you down some ice cream,” he said, pulling her forward as his pace switched to a determined one.

It didn’t take them long to find an ice cream stand. Roman ordered only one and handed it to her in a tiny goblet-like cup. They walked to a bridge overlooking the water. She dug into the treat and spooned it onto her tongue. Her eyes lit up. “Wow! That actually might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“I tried to tell you,” Roman laughed.

“Here,” Jane scooped more onto the spoon and fed him some. He insisted that it was hers only. She didn’t put up a fight.

Roman took her to Sainte-Chapelle, a stunning Gothic chapel with stained glass windows. Even so late at night, it was open to bystanders. Sainte-Chapelle has a striking Gothic presence characterized by its tall, pointed arches, intricate stone carvings, and vibrant blue and gold tiles. The exterior was littered with delicate sculptures and gargoyles. It was an incredibly old building, featuring two distinct levels—an upper chapel and a lower chapel. They walked inside to sit. Nobody was there, which made it deafeningly quiet.

The interior was breathtaking, dominated by stunning stained glass windows that rose to impressive heights. These windows, filled with vivid colors and intricate biblical scenes, created a luminous effect as light filtered through them, even during the night. The ribbed vaults of the ceiling soared above, enhancing the sense of grandeur. The atmosphere was serene and reverent. They slid into the seats.

“Surprised you wanted to come here. I thought you didn’t subscribe to religion ?,” Jane quipped.

“ You are my religion darling”, he quips. Her heart flutters but she hides it when she turns away to look at the large statues in the front of the room.

“I may not always agree with the talking points, but it’s beautiful, is it not?”

Jane nodded. “It is. It never ceases to amaze me how people come together to create these kinds of giants. It must take such a long time. It’s almost hard to believe they made it.”

“Not much can stop a determined man’s hands. Not even heights, apparently,” he retorted.

“Is that what you are? Determined?” Jane jokes.

“I am most urgent,” he hummed. Jane chuckled at that, but not a hint of humor gleamed in his eyes. His dark, toned eyes glossed over her face as he leaned further into the wooden pews of the church.

“What is making your haste?” Jane playfully turned her head back to him.

“You…” he said quietly. His eyes drifted to the muraled ceiling. Jane followed, throwing her head back onto his shoulder to enjoy the view.

“Me?” she echoed. A silent pause surrounded them.

“I had a vision when I went under,” he said. For a moment, his voice wavered. It stunned her. A man who was always so sure of himself and the conviction of his words had lost that command. Jane listened carefully, careful not to throw him off his train of thought.

“When it was black…I was not dead to the world. It was colorful. I saw many things. Revisited many instances. But what stunned me the most was that I saw memories I never had. Memories I was supposed to make…with you,” he whispered. A fragility in his voice wounded her. His words made it evident that this thought had been weighing on him.

“What did you see?” she asked quietly.

“My whole life with you. Me, old and withered. You, with white hair. You as my wife…” he said. Jane stilled, slowly lifting her head from his shoulder to sit up and look at him. His eyes found hers, mirroring her own—stunned and surprised.

“Look…I’m okay if you decline the lordship. But that vision, or dream—whatever you want to call it—instilled a fear in me that I have never known. And that fear is that somehow I’m making a mistake by not giving you a life of dignity. I’m making a mistake by not sharing your last name. I’m making a mistake by not being able to introduce you as my wife. And I can wait no longer. I can’t Jane”, he admits.

Her lip trembled as tears flooded her eyes. It nearly frightened her the way this feeling washed over her. Was it relief? Was it anxiousness? It was both. She hadn’t known how badly she wanted him to ask.

Roman slowly rose from his seat onto one knee. His stature was as tall as hers, even while she sat higher. He reached into his coat and pulled out the bright blue box she had seen days ago. He gently opened it to reveal a silver ring with blue sapphires circling around it. Jane shook as she looked down at it. With a hand over her mouth, she tried to hold back the sob that threatened to escape, but it was useless.

She could see tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. His voice cracked with the fear that she would say no—a fear he likely had already accepted as a possibility before he asked. “Jane Ramalal. Will you be my wife? Will you allow me the honor of carrying your last name?”

“Yes. Yes, I will,” she cried. Roman dove for her mouth like it was the only source of air between them. Her hands clawed at his hair, holding him against her. He pulls away to gently hold her hand. As he slid the ring onto her finger, she hurriedly wiped away her tears.

“It’s heavy,” she giggled, her laugh wet with tears. It was surreal. He wanted her last name of all things. And since he had dropped his own as a form of freedom, she had one to spare. So unorthodox and likely to ruffle many feathers. But wasn’t that their love at its core? Anything but ordinary. She was okay with that. She pulled him in for another hug, seeking the grounding feeling of his chest, scared that the high of this moment would make her float into the ceiling murals.

“I love you,” he whispered into her hair.

“I love you more. And you’re going to be a great Lord. You’re going to help a lot of people, Roman. I just know it. You’ll do great”, she sniffled.

“We are,” he murmured.

She can’t quite remember the walk back to the carriage. The ride back to the Palais was a blur. All she could think about was how grateful she was for another chance at life. She watched the trees pass by from the carriage window. The ride was quiet with the occasional “I love you”. And what more was there to really say?

Roman POV

“Are you going to sleep the day away?” Roman brushed the side of her cheek. They had gotten back very late last night, but now it was well after lunch. Jane rubbed her eyes as he opened the curtains. Streaks of black ran down her face from all the crying she did last night. Her hair was all over her head and smooshed in on one side. “You want help?” Roman asked.

Jane nodded quietly and sat with her back turned in the bed. He slid the pins out of her hair, and she sank her hands into the roots to shake it all loose. He brought her a wet cloth to wipe her face.

She made quick work of a bath, and he sat patiently for her at the foot of the bed, reading a book he had found in the room. She emerged naked and dry, slipped on a chemise, and called for assistance with a corset she had put on over it. She kept her hair down as she cleaned her mouth. It was a slow day at court. Many women hid in their rooms with beauty treatments that would paralyze them until late dinner. Men slept off absinthe-filled nights. There was no rush today.

Charlotte was having tea in the orangery. As soon as Roman walked in, Eloise swarmed him. “Is it true that you are getting married to Lady Jane?!!!”, she yelled.

Her mother groaned. “Too loud, mon petit,” Charlotte rubbed the back of her head. She was obviously hurting from the drinking last night.

“Oui,” Jane bent down to Eloise to show her the ring. Eloise squealed in that pitch only a little girl could manage—shrilly and glass-breaking. Charlotte gasped and rushed over to see as well.

“Congratulations! I told you she would say yes,” Arnaud clapped his hand down onto Roman’s shoulder proudly.

“About bloody time,” Caden called out from behind an orange bush, where he was filling his pockets with oranges.

“Oh, it’s huge! Good job, Roman!” Charlotte gushed as she held Jane’s hand up. They went to sit, and Eloise climbed onto Jane’s lap. Roman could see the humor on her face, considering that the two had had very brief introductions.

“Ummm—can I be your flower girl?”, she begged.

“Well, if it’s alright with your parents,” Jane looked up at Arnaud and Charlotte.

“You have no idea what you’ve just done,” Arnaud joked.

“Eloise loves weddings. She’s been a flower girl many times, and she will not take no for an answer. But if it’s alright with you and Roman,” Charlotte laughed.

“YAY!” Eloise squealed.

“And you’ll be the ring bearer, Caden,” Jane teased.

“No way. That’s for little kids,” Caden scoffed.

“It will probably be something small anyway,” said Jane.

“Well, what certainly won’t be small is the yew ball. Your invitations came today,” Charlotte quipped. Arnaud handed them the folded cards. “Whatever you’ve done has worked. You’re very close to becoming lordship now. The ball will really be the time to impress. My dressmakers are coming over today to fit pieces on you and Eloise. Expect to go all out. People wait all year for this ball.”

“I don’t understand why I would matter so much to someone as powerful as the King. Why all this performance? Why not just give Roman the title?”

“Nobility, in its very nature, is about performance above all else. Even with you two being non-nobles, it must be evident that the two of you are special enough to be bestowed a title. Your looks can get you far here in Paris. There have been enough whispers about you to make him send the invitation directly, despite it being open to the public.”

Jane agreed that she was ready and willing to do what needed to be done in order to get Roman titled. Roman was ready to start their lives outside of Paris. He was ready for a house to call their own and quiet nights with just the two of them. A town to do with as they pleased. A real community. But there was one last show. The Ball.

In unorthodox fashion, Roman stayed for the fittings—test runs for her makeup, test runs for the hair. He stayed for the dancing lessons with Beatrice, the older woman being very thorough and rigid about what was acceptable and what wasn’t. They went over dining etiquette and greetings. The whole thing felt like preparing for war, and by the end of the day, Jane was clearly tired.

Jane came to bed late from how much time she spent preparing. Roman welcomed her with open arms. She climbed onto his chest, allowing him to rest his head on her own.

“Roman,” her sweet voice called out into the dark.

“Mm?”

“You’ll tell me if you get bored, right? Tell me you want to go back to the sea if our new life doesn’t fulfill you. You won’t keep it from me?,” said Jane, her voice fragile and worried.

“Why on earth would I ever get bored so long as the woman of my dreams is by my side? I don’t think I even possess that level of selfishness,” Roman hummed. She could feel the shift of her head indicating that she was looking right at him.

“Our new life won’t have the twists and turns of the sea. There won’t be as much spontaneity.”

“Says who? I can think of several different things we can do to keep the spark.”

“Like what?”

“Jane can’t wear clothes in the house on Fridays,” Roman scoffed. He could nearly hear her eyes roll.

“You would love that, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t need some grand adventure in the background to love as much as I did the day before. Don’t you and I, of all people, deserve some domesticity? Some normalcy? And what’s more spontaneous than creating the community you and I longed for when we were younger? Making that happen for somebody else who really needs it?”

Jane silently agreed. Roman knew that there wasn’t much he could say to calm her fears about marriage. Truthfully, that’s what this was all about. She feared that their marriage would become mundane and that he would grow bored of it. But Roman wasn’t the type of man to do that, and the only way he could prove it was by never turning into the man she feared. Easy enough.

Jane Pov

In true fashion for the night of the Yew Ball, everyone was running around in a frenzy. Gaston was sweating bullets. Mary wore a look of concentration she’d never seen before. It had taken hours for her to get ready, to the point that Roman and Arnaud had left. The girls would meet them there.

As Jane stood in front of the mirror, she marveled at the way the light danced off the rich fabric of her gown, illuminating the intricate details. The gown, a breathtaking creation in a solid gold color, shimmered like molten sunlight, each layer a testament to the artistry of Parisian couture.

The bodice was cut daringly low, exposing an enticing décolletage, which was a risky choice. The corseted waist was cinched tightly, making the bottom of the dress truly pop. The midsection of the dress was elegant, embroidered with patterns of swirling vines and blossoms in darker gold thread adorning the bodice. The sleeves were extravagant, flaring largely at the forearm, fashioned from sheer silk that flared out at the shoulders before gathering at her wrists, allowing for a playful glimpse of her skin beneath.

Beneath the opulent exterior, the dress cascaded into a voluminous skirt, lined with layers of rich satin that rustled softly with each movement. The hem was embellished with delicate lace. The fabric itself was a masterpiece, woven with threads of gold that caught the light at every angle, creating a mesmerizing effect that was nothing short of breathtaking.

To complete the ensemble, Jane paired the dress with a stunning diamond and gold choker that sparkled like stars against her skin, while a matching necklace draped elegantly over her collarbone. Her ears sparkled with dangling gold and diamond earrings that caught the light with every turn of her head.

Gaston decided that his impromptu kajal eye makeup was old news. He created his own gold-flecked eye shimmer. It was thick and extremely pigmented. He applied it with a gentle hand onto her eyes and added it generously to the front of her hairline. He kept her lashes dark and her lips and cheeks a soft, subtle pink. At the very last minute, he began to lightly dust her entire face, arms, neck, and chest in a sheer gold shimmer.

With hours of heat styling, it took Mary time to get Jane's hair just right. She gently twisted and wrapped Jane's natural curls around the heated rods, creating loose spirals that would later form the base of her lower transitional pouf. The pouf would rise high above her shoulders, showcasing her graceful neck, with a long framing curl that would fall down her back.

Once the curls had set, Mary carefully unwrapped the rods, revealing bouncy, voluminous spirals. With expert precision, Mary began to sculpt the pouf, gathering the curls at the back and securing them with delicate pins. The height of the hair was a status symbol, and tonight they went big, adding a few inches to Jane’s stature.

As the final touches were made, Jane’s hair was decorated with accessories: a few sparkling hair pins shaped like delicate blossoms, glinting softly in the light, and a sheer ribbon woven throughout the curls, cascading gracefully down one side. A small cluster of gold-painted feathers was tucked artfully into the pouf, adding a touch of whimsy and sophistication.

Most striking of all was the solid gold masquerade mask she held delicately in her hands. Its elaborate filigree design matched the gown perfectly, promising an air of mystery and importance the moment she stepped foot in the palace. With each detail carefully considered, she knew that tonight was not only about her. This was about all the people who came together to make this night possible for her: the designers, the makeup artists, the hairdressers, the shoemakers. All the people who used their creativity to make the elite look their best. These events created revenue for them, and despite her not wanting to go, she could at least bring attention to those who helped her.

Charlotte burst into her room with Eloise in hand, gasping at the sight of her. “You look amazing! You look like the gold sculptures of Versailles!”

“You two look incredible,” Jane laughed as Eloise twirled like a ballerina, showing off her dress. Charlotte wore a blue dress with puffy shoulders and a huge skirt that jutted out on the sides. Pearls and diamonds littered her skin, accentuating her eyes. Eloise looked like a princess in her pink fluffy dress, her hair twisted into a crown.

“Everyone is going to love my dress. I’m the best dressed,” Eloise sighed confidently. Charlotte and Jane burst into laughter. Eloise’s confidence knew no bounds, but Charlotte would never take that away from her—especially knowing that she would only experience about three hours of the party before it became adults-only.

“You’re absolutely right, mon chér,” Charlotte kissed the top of her head.

“We're already behind schedule. Let’s go now before they start dancing,” Charlotte said, grabbing Eloise’s hand, and the trio rushed for the door. Caden was already waiting in the carriage.

A wide-set carriage would have to do, given how big their dresses were. Even so, Caden was squished against the window, talking about how he refused to ride back with the rest of them. Eloise just laughed and teased him for the entire hour.

Roman Pov

“If she does not arrive within the next few minutes, I’m going to go look for her.” Roman anxiously sipped his brandy. The mask was rubbing against his face so uncomfortably that he nearly tore it off. The room was muggy, and the alcohol likely didn’t help. A good portion of the people in this room hated his guts. Some of their friends had met unfortunate ends by his hand. Those early days of running rampant around Europe, committing crimes would leave a lasting stain on how he was perceived. He didn’t care for forgiveness, but he knew that Jane’s reputation was in a fragile spot. Tonight, she must do well.

The parties of real nobility were where the true monsters resided. They did not care to hide their prejudices. Arnaud’s court was more tolerant and open-minded. However, these people were a different breed. They did not often brush shoulders with outsiders. They believed in a “natural order” and made it known. He would do his best to dodge those conversations.

“You forget how heavy those dresses are. It takes them ten minutes just to get downstairs to the carriages, and then even more time to get out. You’re anxious. Relax. She’s done this before,” said Arnaud. He always had the same laid-back disposition. Roman used to have it too, once upon a time. Then he met Jane, and the stakes were higher.

“I’m not anxious,” Roman scoffed.

“You’ve adjusted your tie about twenty times since you’ve been here—standing at the bottom of the stairs. You know these environments like the back of your hand. It will be what it will be,” Arnaud sighed.

“If I hear one thing that I don’t like, I might start flipping tables over, Arnaud. I mean it,” Roman warned, an edge to his voice that sounded more pirate than gentleman.

“You will do no such thing. There is too much at stake. You underestimate her,” Arnaud chuckled.

“I do not.”

Arnaud rolled his eyes. “You do. She’s a smart girl. I’ve seen her work her charm. The Parisians love charm. Now if you don’t relax, I’ll have to give you something stronger.”

Roman cursed under his breath as he adjusted his tie one more time. This event was open to the public, but direct invitees wore masquerade masks. This alone drew a line in the sand of who was important and who wasn’t. It also dictated who was invited to dinner and who wasn’t.

A commotion stirred at the top of the steps, and a wooden staff echoed across the room. Someone was coming.

“The Duchess of Orleans, Charlotte Du Pointe, and her lady daughter, Eloise Du Pointe!” the announcer projected across the room. Charlotte appeared at the top of the steps with her daughter Eloise. Their masks glistened against the soft lights of the room, matching their dresses.

Their dresses were big and bright: Charlotte in cotton candy blue and Eloise in light pink. Eloise had a big smile on her face as she yanked her hand from her mother’s hold. “HIII, everybody!!!” she yelled, waving to the room. The guests chortled, chuckled, and swooned at the little girl as a guard escorted her down the stairs in a hurry. She was still at that age where everyone looked at her with adoration and humor. Charlotte softly giggled instead of reprimanding her daughter, a clear indicator of her humble background. She allowed Eloise to be a child. Eloise, still fearless about the world and the people in it, immediately ran to Arnaud and buried her face in his knees.

“Papa, do you like my dress?!” she giggled. Arnaud picked her up with nothing short of pride in his eyes as he complimented the beauty of his daughter. His wife appeared poised and graceful by his side. He kissed her cheek. For a moment, the former pirate forgot what was at stake as Arnaud became enraptured with his family.

Three more clicks of a wooden staff, and the announcer cleared his throat. The room paused, chatter fading as always, ready to cast judgment, ready to gawk and gossip. The minute a glimpse of gold peeked over the stairs, the room fell from quiet to dead silent. “Mademoiselle Jane of London and Monsieur Caden of Grimsby!”

Jane, glimmering, golden, and shiny like stardust, stepped into everyone’s line of view at the top of the stairs, Caden by her side, a helpful arm for her to hold onto. Everything about her defied the rules of court, yet everything about her drew the crowd in. That gold on her, the way her skin absorbed it and then shot it back around the room like a source of light. Her body shimmered with it. Her mask, completely solid gold to match. The cut of the dress, her jewelry—her first step down the stairs set off an echo of gasps everywhere. The crowd inched forward slightly, each shift of her dress and click of her heel bouncing off the waxed marble floor, alerting everyone to her presence. Jane was a vision, a statue come to life.

As she made her way slowly down the stairs, Roman could hear the shock, the whispers, and murmurs.

“Provocante!” (Provocative)

“L’audace!” (The audacity)

“Audacieuse!” (Bold)

As she inched closer, the details of her beauty stood out against all others. She parted the room with each step. The murmurs grew louder as she stepped onto the main floor. Roman was there to greet her with a kiss to the back of her hand. He pulled her by the waist into his chest, her hands gently placed on his. Her sparkling eyes met his gaze, not an inkling of shyness in them.She had changed from when they first met. This was her final form. Or rather—her true one.

“You are absolutely stunning. I would ask you to marry me again, but I already did,” Roman sighed. To say that he was mesmerized would be an understatement. She laughed and raised herself on the tips of her toes to meet his kiss.

“Well, ask again if you must, but my answer will probably be yes, just so you know,” she smiled. She pulled away to look at his outfit. “You look absolutely amazing. They did such a good job matching us.”

“It was a nightmare letting them dress me. The stylist had to stand on a stool to put on my shirt. I’ll be glad to leave this place,” Roman complained.

“Not too fast. You owe me the night,” she purred.

“Do I? I don’t remember making any promises, but with how you look right now, I’m inclined to comply.”

“If you know what’s good for you,” she smirked.

They went to get a drink at the refreshment table. She kept complimenting his suit.

He wore a tailored deep black coat with a sumptuous finish that caught the light, fitted at the waist and flaring slightly at the hips. Beneath it, a crisp white linen shirt had billowing sleeves and a high ruffled collar. His black waistcoat featured intricate gold embroidery, complementing Jane's attire. The perfectly tailored trousers tapered at the ankles, revealing polished black leather shoes. He completed the look with a soft ivory silk cravat fastened by a delicate gold pin and a black masquerade mask adorned with a single feather, like Jane's.

Roman looked around the room at the glares directed at his fiancée. He noticed something quite particular: many of the women had teased, curly hair, clearly manipulated by heat to the point of frizz. They wore dark eye makeup and dark gowns. This style was not popular in the French court; women typically opted for bright colors. Dark colors were seen as too mature or even suggestive. So to see so many women in dark reds, greens, blacks, and blues was almost jarring.

That’s when he realized that Jane had become a bit of a muse. There would never be an admission as to who they were imitating. The thought nearly made him burst into laughter. And now she was wearing a color that was hard to produce: a pure gold dress—true to the color. Another peculiar choice for French society. Jane had left her mark.

“When is the food coming?” Caden interrupted, startling Jane as she forgot he was hovering around.

“Is that all you think about?” Roman laughed.

“I’m a growing boy. Ooo—hors d’oeuvres!” Caden trailed off, following one of the servers holding a tray of snacks.

After the arrival of guests, the opening ceremony started. The royal family was introduced with a live orchestra performance. After the opening ceremony, balls like these had a specific order: the first dance, dinner, special performances, more dancing, closing festivities, and departure. This would be a long night.

There would be no first dance without the King and Queen participating first. He pulled his much younger wife onto the dance floor. She wore a pristine all-white gown. Everything she wore was white, including her hair and the whites of her eyes. The King tried his best to match her, but the blueness of his veins stood out against the absence of color. Everything was so manufactured between the two of them, even down to the smiles they gave one another—a pretending love. A love that never was.

Everybody in this room should want to be them, to want what they had: as many children, as much money, as much power as they did. Roman looked at Jane as she watched the two of them, her expression indifferent but calm. He was standing next to the sun. He had something more valuable than what any monarchy could provide. A true love, an undefiled, uncultivated love. A love that money couldn’t buy. She caught his gaze. He held his hand out to her, and she took it without hesitation as they walked to join the dancing couple along with Arnaud and Charlotte.

The minuet, a slow and graceful dance characterized by its elegant movements and intricate footwork, was typically danced in 3/4 time. It involved a series of steps that included gliding movements, turns, and the signature minuet pose, where dancers would often bow or curtsy.

The most intimate part of the dance was when the couple circled each other, with one hand pressed against the other in the air. He always found the dance a bit silly, but not this time. Jane’s natural grace added beauty to the dance. The staring eventually got to her, and she decided she was ready to sit down. Soon after the first dance came dinner—a whole other beast.

Dinner was all about the King flexing his power over others. High-ranking nobles sat elevated in the center of the room. Anyone below the Duke and Duchess sat on the outskirts. Low-ranking nobles stood to eat. Special guests also stood to eat. The whole ordeal would have been unforgivable if not for the delicious food: stuffed lamb, roasted duck, Canard aux Cerises, Boeuf à la Mode, Poisson à la Sauce Duxelles, Soupe aux Choux, canapés, tarts, artisan breads dipped in butter, roasted vegetables of all kinds, fish, mussels, clams, oysters, lobster, mince pies, potato pies, quiches, mousse, cream, pastries of every variety, candied fruits with crackly coatings, marzipan. The list went on and on and on. Jane whispered to him how she’d rather eat alone with a spread like this, which made him laugh. Back on the ship, there were no manners besides keeping your food and hands to yourself. He’d seen her bite into the side of a chuck roast like a lion. He wasn’t much for manners himself; he found table manners taunting in a way. Food had to be eaten in a certain order with a certain utensil. Thankfully, with them placed on the outskirts of the room, there was nobody to witness him eat his slice of ham quiche in one singular bite, except for Jane of course. She had to swallow her food before she choked from laughing.

Nobles used toasts to shine the spotlight on their eloquence and wit—always circling back to the King and Queen. There had been five toasts that night, and soon it became rather pathetic. In the distance, Charlotte had to cover her mouth with a fan after the viscount stood to give a speech about France being the most powerful country and how good looking the King was— or something of the sort.

After dinner, there were performances. Ballet dancers entranced the crowd with their grace. A very young violinist by the name of Joseph Bologne stunned the crowd with his musicality, making his instrument create sounds beyond comprehension. Jane was particularly amazed by him. English circus performers showcased impressive skills, such as acrobatics, juggling, and contortion. They performed daring feats, captivating the audience with their physical abilities. Fire-breathing got the crowd rowdy and lively.

Magicians and illusionists interacted with the crowd, pulling doves from scarves and rabbits from hats. The performances were wrapped with plate-spinning dancers from Shanghai, who spun porcelain plates on ridiculously long sticks and walked on stilts, doing difficult stunts and synchronized dancing in colorful outfits with elaborate makeup.

More dancing ensued, this time with livelier dances like the gavotte. Dessert wines like Sauternes flowed as people became looser. Children were sent off to bed while the adults enjoyed the rest of the festivities. Parlor games were played during the intermission, like charades. Roman enjoyed a few rounds of the card game baccarat with Arnaud in a private salon near the ballroom, savoring a few smokes.

Jane was having a good time, and he was in no rush to ruin the fun. She had finally realized why they called Charlotte the life of the party. The two danced and drank repeatedly as the crowd became increasingly intoxicated. A fireworks show ended the night as the crowd slowly dissipated over the next few hours. With the King and Queen retiring to bed, there was no need to impress. People took champagne bottles for themselves. Roman had to search the room just to find Jane and Charlotte near the balcony, sharing a bottle of wine and grapes.

“Have you gotten it out of your system?” Roman stood a few feet away, watching the pair as they draped over each other.

“Just wait until the wedding,” Charlotte snickered.

“SMALL wedding,” Jane laughed. She reached her arms out for Roman, and he picked her up onto her feet. Arnaud was on his way to his wife, who was entering a zone of drunkenness that was inappropriate for court. But with most of the nobles gone, nobody really cared now. Jane was flirty, more handsy than usual. She had a light buzz but still had her wits about her.

“Did you have fun?” he whispered to her as he picked her up bridal style. She took the opportunity to kick off her heels and carry them.

Caden would stay the night along with Arnaud, Charlotte, and Eloise. Charlotte promised him a Versailles breakfast, and the young lad agreed—a bit drunk himself and cycling through sleep on one of the chairs near the dance floor.

“After everybody got drunk, absolutely. I danced circles around those old farts with Charlotte. Now my feet hurt,” Jane sighed.

“We can get you into a hot bath to help those feet, and you can tell me all about your night.”

“My night? What about your night? Did you like any of it?”

Roman set her down inside the carriage and stepped in foot first. “Maybe the food. I also won a gambling match with one of the viscounts from Italy. I won his gold watch. The old bloke was fuming.”

“Gambling? You really are a pirate, aren’t you?” Jane snickered.

The carriage dashed into the night with the horses rested and ready to sprint. Jane was already ripping at a piece of her costume and throwing it on the floor of the cart.

“This thing is so hot,” she grunted.

“It’s the wine. It’s a chilly night.

“ Help me take it off”, she whined. Roman obliged and loosened her corset for her.

“ Nono…I just need the skirt cage off “, she pleads.

“ I…I have to go under your dress and I can barely see anything.”

She rolls her eyes. “ What are you…scared something’s going to jump out and bite you? It’s not like you haven’t visited down there before. I don’t have an extra set of teeth—I promise.”

Roman chuckled at her bluntness. “ I don’t want to mess up such a beautiful dress. You know the stylists are really fickle about how you take off the dress. I could break something”

“ Roman. Take off the fucking cage.”

Taken aback by her tone he dives right into action and drops to his knees. “ Yes ma’am.”

On the floor, he pops under the skirt of her dress and feels along her skin. The smooth silk of her flesh is almost enough for him to forget the task until her hips wiggle when he stalls. She really wants it off. He feels up and over her hips where the buttons securing the contraption are held together. He blindly tugs and pulls away at the fabric until something snaps.

“ You got it”, her voice calls out in a dramatic hopeful tone. He backs away with the cage in his hands, pulling it from under her. The bottom of the dress deflates.

“ I mean I found something hard and smooth so I figured it had to be it.”

“ I knew you’d find it. You’re notoriously good at finding buttons. You may be the only man in Europe who actually can ”, she jokes suggestively. Roman chuckled quietly as he sat on his knees on the carriage floor. Her cage sat next to her and the clicking of horse hooves seemed to fill in the gaps of silence. Jane’s smile melts into something more assertive, more sultry.

With great attention to her expression, he testfully grabs onto one of her ankles and brings it to the side of his face, sniffing it before resting it on his shoulder

“ Did you put perfume here ?” He asks quietly. His voice swells with a daring tone. A hidden question really. Is he reading her correctly?

“ Yes”, she says in a quiet tone. A small smirk spreads on her painted lips.

“ Now, Why on earth would you do that?”, he tests.

“ Well it got your attention didn’t it ?”, she quips. A cheeky edge to her words. Her eyes— a challenge.

He says nothing, only takes the same leg on his shoulder and trails his fingers down the side of it in a slow manner. His eyes remain planted on her as he draws swirls up into her inner thigh. Her breath is slightly labored, the rise and fall of her breasts noticeable from the way the corset fabric sparkled in the low light.

Large and calloused hands massage her inner thigh. He can feel her muscles tense and release under his touch. He brushed the other thigh with the tips of his fingers, starting the process over and again. Working and winding her up as he watched her fingers dig into the cushion of the seat underneath her.

Slowly, he pulls down her undergarments and flings them behind him. The heat radiating from her skin met it’s peak here. She parts her legs further, a beckoning. An invitation to come closer.

His hand meet soft, wet, warm skin. He groans despite knowing it would be there. How could it not? It had been weeks since he last touched her. They had been busy and coming down on the high of finding the treasure. She was sopping. A true testament to how much her body missed him. They both groaned audibly when his thumb pressed that spot where she needed him most. She melts into his seat, head lulling back as she moans against each wet sweep of his thumb.

“ Were you like this…all night ?”

“ Yes”, she whines. Shifting in her seat, he closes the space between them until her butt is nearly touching his torso. Both of her legs rest on his shoulders as he firmly rubs her in circular motions.

“ Tell me…”

“ T-Tell you what?”, she stutters

“ What thought led to what I’m feeling underneath my fingertips right now”, he gruffs.

“ F-Fear”, she sighed breathlessly.

“ Of what?”

“ Fear that when you make me cum..it won’t be enough. It won’t be enough until I have all of you.”

“ You have me”, he urges.

“ Not in every way”, she gasped as his fingers speed up on her clit. It didn’t take much with her. Not with his skill.

“ Speak”, he commands. And he’s sure it feels like being doused in cold water with the way she jerks at the sound. Especially when all she wants to do is sink into the sofa and melt away. But now his breath was labored—heart racing as he anticipated the sound she would make.

“ I Need Your C— ,” and her sentence is cut short with an abrupt squeak as she cums against his fingers. He presses and rubs until her writhing stops . A restlessness still prevalent even after she’s gotten her fix.

“ You finish that sentence”, he leans in to kiss the sides of her neck as his hands trail up and down the sides of her. She’s hazy from the orgasm.

Shyly.. she continues in another way. “ What you’ve given me all this time. It was enough then…but not anymore”, she pants.

Roman needed no other explanation and he dare not make her second guess. Instead he sits back and pulls her to a straddle on top of him. She grabs his face and kisses him. The smokiness of his mouth makes her rut into his crotch feverently, nearly making him release into his pants. He has to stop her prematurely.

Kissing, tugging, pulling, gripping. The surprising sting of a bite to his chest. The tearing of fabric they’ll regret later. The panting across exposed skin. The drag of nails scraping across heated flesh. She made a mess of him to match her own. A whole hour swallowed by the lust of two.

When the carriage screeched to a stop they both paused to assess the damage. Roman’s top was destroyed. He noticed the way she glanced at her hands—likely wondering how she possessed the strength. He threw his coat over her shoulders as the help escorted them back up to their bedroom.

“ Hot water in the tub Joffrey”, he calls to the butler already waiting at the door.

Three servants take turns walking in and out the room to fill the tub awaiting in the other room. Jane watches quietly as she grips the oversized jacket around her. Her lips are swollen from him. Her biting the corners doesn't make it any better. It doesn’t make this any easier. Doesn’t give him any more composure .

Jane Pov

“ Will my bath slow the momentum ?”, she asks quietly. She doesn’t want the maids to hear.

“ Have I not proven my patience by now?”

“ Is it wrong to ask? Have you noticed you’re about to rip out of your pants?” Roman frowns at her in confusion. Her eyes trail down to his sizeable erection that jutted from his black dress trousers. His eyes meet it with surprise as if he forgot. So used to ignoring his body in respect of her boundaries. In respect of her limits.

“ I’ll take my bath cold…in the other room ”, he calls out to the servants in the bathroom.

With a kiss to her forehead, he leaves behind the servants. Maybe some distance would be for the best. The bath would give her time to think. The scented oils relaxed her but she still felt so empty. The desire to be filled, something foreign to her until now.

She took her hair down in the tub and pinned it up again, less uniform, uncaring if some strands got wet. She scrubbed her skin with something scented. She made quick work of it.

She dried off, creamed her skin, and took off her jewelry. She kept thinking about what to wear. What do people usually wear? Well …nothing by the end of it she supposed. But how to entice ? She knew nothing about seduction. So maybe nothing could be something ? She wiped the color from her lips from her mouth. No time to get rid of the eyes. She found a thick hair ribbon, she wrapped it around her neck and tied it into a bow. The dress that the maids brought up in pieces included the stockings that she rolled up her thighs. A once over in the mirror and she felt it was enough. Courtesan in a way.

She draped herself in her robe and waited. She didn’t send for him. He would come back when he was ready. It didn’t take long thankfully. She could hear him send away the butler for the night from behind the door. Her hands sweat as the doorknob turns.

He stands in the hallway. Brooding and wide, like when they first met. His hair wet and his skin coated with a light mist from his bath. No shirt, loose fitting cotton trousers. Every tattoo is even bolder than she remembered. His eyes were hungry but controlled as always. She stands carefully as he turns to close the door and lock it . By the time he turns back around she’s quickly slipped off her robe. He freezes in place, eyes darkening even in the light.

He doesn’t move to grab her. No throwing her down on the bed. Instead, he slowly walks over to the table at the far end of the room. A fire crackles next to it. He sits down at the chair, legs spread wide. He motions his finger for her. A quiet “stand in front of me”. Being gawked at all night did nothing for her. It didn’t move her. But under his gaze…she could barely take it. Hesitantly, she makes her way to him.

For a moment she’s stunned—nearly losing the steam to do this. To be this courageous, sexy, brave woman who takes charge. But when he finally speaks it’s simple. “Take down all your hair. Please”, he says. An authority in his voice, controlled, quiet. She reaches for her hair pins and lets her tresses down, loosening the curls with a shake of her hand. “ Perfect”, he whispers.

Going with her gut, instead of stepping closer she gets on her knees. Intrigued, his gaze tracked her movements as she began to crawl to him slowly. One hand extending out behind the other carefully and methodically. She reaches his knees and places her hands on the both of them. That cold bath did nothing for him clearly. His erection was jutting out of his pants like a sword.

“ Are sure ?”, he asks. She doesn’t answer, only slides her hands up his chest reassuringly. This is the man she loved. The man she was going to marry. This was safe. He was safe. He’d proven that long ago. She united the strings holding his cotton trousers. He lifted up when she pulled them down. His erection sprung out and hit his stomach.

She seized it in her hands and felt the pulse of him around his fingers. Roman had time to learn her. He studied the way she liked to be licked. The way he wanted his mouth slated against her cunt. The speed of his tongue. He knew how to make her fall apart in seconds. She had not learned him. Never tasted him in her mouth. Never felt the beat of his pulse on her tongue. She wanted to do this well.

His girth has always been impressive but not painfully thick. With time she could take the stretch of him without thought. His length, however, was a whole other feat. How on earth would all of it fit? She cut those thoughts off before she chickened out.

At least it was beautiful. Lengthy, curved upwards, a fleshy pink tip, dusky shaded skin, chiseled in thick veins, a heavy sack. Pearls of arousal glisten at the top of him. She swipes away at it with her tongue. He’s completely still, watching her closely, waiting for her to back out. But the alarms weren’t ringing yet. She needed to give him what he gave her. Or at least try her best to do so.

Boldly, she wrapped her lips around the head of him and looked up at him through her lashes. He’s biting his fist. She gives him kitten licks. He takes a deep inhale and grabs the arms of his chair with a vibe grip. She pulls back and softly strokes him with both hands.

“ I’ve never done this because I wanted to until now. So you’re going to have to tell me what you want. What you like and what you don’t”, she says quietly.

“ Well, you’ve got the first step down. You put your mouth around me. Don’t stop on my account”, he grunts. Jane resumes, taking him into her mouth.

“ Use your hands where your mouth can’t reach”, he says. A shaky edge to his tone. She listens, using the spit that rolled down his shaft beneath her hands.

She’s timid, careful not to hurt him. Not to squeeze him too hard. He’s so big that if she goes too far she gags a bit. That didn’t scare her knowing that she controlled the pace. The sound of him grunting was a motivator. Everytime she pressed her mouth further down his shaft, not only would her eyes water but her mouth would too. Her hands were drenched. She pulled away to get something to clean some of the mess up. He gently stops her.

“ You’re doing it perfectly, leave it ”, he says. His composure slipping through a clenched jaw. He didn’t want to cum but she sumized it would be easy to get him back up if he did.

So she goes back for more, inching further and further down his shaft. She made a proper mess of herself. She destroyed her eye makeup. Her nose was running, her mouth was watering like a spigot. He holds her hair for her but he keeps his hands clear from the back of her head.

She sort of liked the mess. The sound of her working him in her mouth, the choking, the sniffling, the sounds of his groans whenever her hand drifts to his sack. The sound he bit back when she massaged them. It was easy to get enthusiastic when she felt his composure slipping from him. When his groans turned into audible sighs when she sucked his head harder.

She pulls away to catch her breath, panting from the exertion of it. In some strange way she felt powerful. Which was funny considering that she was the one on her knees. But maybe it was the reassurance that she could please him successfully. That she was capable of giving back what she had received for so long.

“ Spit on it.”

“ spit on it ?”, She echoes.

“ Like it just pissed you off”, he dares.

Jane nearly laughs but he was clearly serious. And so she does. His hips shift as she works her hand over him before doing it again and licking it up. That earns a full out moan. She bobs up and down the length of him, getting as much in and she could comfortably allow. Bubbles form at the sides of her mouth. She wraps her mouth just around the engorged head and sucks firmly.

Instead of stroking him up and down she began to gently twist with each pump of her fist as her mouth suctioned around the head of him. Then ever so often she would twist her mouth as she came up. Roman, once so stoic and controlled, was hissing in agreement with her new found technique. The praise sent waves of arousal tingling on her breast, her cunt, and deep in her stomach.

“ God dammit…just like that. What a good girl you are. Are you my good girl ?”, he cooes.

“ —-Glaahhjksmm!—”, she talks around his cock as she pushes against the barrier of her reflex. Spit froths and flows as she gathers it around his sack and massages it in time with her strokes. A full on moan wrecks his throat from the vibration on her mouth. His eyes danced around the room and his head falls back.

And just as she’d been taught, she sucked it all up and spat it right back onto the head of his cock. A gut punching sounding groan falls from his lips. This time, instead of sucking, she begins blowing air around the cock in her mouth, gargling and gurgling against his skin as she pushed down down down down. His hips twist and bend. “ Alrightalrightaright wait... Fuuckkk. Stop”, he stutters. She pulls away quickly.

“ Did I knick you?” She panics.

“ No. But this will be over before it starts if you keep going dove. Fucking hell….”, he chuckles. She can see his brow broke out in the sweat earlier. She looks down at her hands. Her chin is drenched. Her makeup is sliding down her cheeks.

“ Maybe I should get cleaned up first”, she giggles. Roman looks at her, eyes full of admiration like they were when she came down the steps. To her shock he grabs her and kisses her, tongue and all. When he pulled away it stunned her.

“ Enjoy the taste ? ”, she chuckles .

“ I should ask you the same”, he teases. He disappears into the bathroom and comes back with a wet cotton rag, helping her to clean up her hands and mouth.

He places the rag on the table and abruptly picks her up. She squeals in surprise, wrapping her legs around waist.

Her back hits the bed. He climbs on it, going straight for her legs. Slowly, he peels her stockings off with his teeth. He’s sure to nip her ankles and the inside of her thigh. His beard a welcome sensory against the sensitivity of her skin.

He makes no introduction, only an immediate shot for her clit. He sucks her into his mouth and watches her thrash against him. Immediately sending her into sensory overload.

He laps at her with the tip of his tongue before running it over the entirety of her cunt. Pressing his entire mouth on it and sliding his lips across it like an open kiss. She can already feel her peak approaching as he hooks his arms under her thighs and pulls her closer. Her hands reach for his hair and tug aimlessly.

He makes a show of it, growling into her. Thumbing at her breasts. She’s about to cum already. Almost embarrassingly soon. But he had learned her for months now, an advantage that he took happily.

“ Are you in a rush?”, she whimpered.

“ I’m in no rush, your body on the other hand seems to be”, he mumbled against her skin. She fell apart on his mouth, back bowing against the bed. He left her no room to pull away, no room for reprieve as he sucked her through her orgasm and after. He made no move to pause until she cried out into the room, shouting expletives that were half gibberish.

He went back for more. She nearly protests this until she realizes just what she was up against. This generous foreplay wasn’t just for his pleasure or her own. It was to prepare her. She fought past the overstimulation and held herself to the mattress as he started all over again.

But Roman would take and take and take. What she would allow he would take for his own. For these matters he had no mercy. Enough was never enough. He would drink and never be full. With her second climax she dug her feet into his back, trembling against the intensity of it. That familiar haze washes over her, making her brain all muggy . Bringing a tingle to her lips and feet.

“ I know you have one more”, he rumbled against the side of her thigh.

“ Mmpphhmm”, she groans.

When his tongue dragged against her clit she flinched. His hands snaked around her waist as he swung his face in a nodding motion against her, lazily swiping his tongue up and down the entirety of her. Each pass, more sensitive than the other. His large hands rest at the bottom of her belly, pressing down each time her back tried to depart the bed. A reminder that she wasn’t going anywhere until she gave him exactly what he wanted.

Teasingly, the tip of his tongue would swirl around her clit, purposely missing where she wanted him most. Her hips followed his mouth, swirling and bucking towards him as pulled away further. His licks turned to gentle flicks, a glint of playfulness in his eyes as he watched her grow increasingly impatient. Suddenly, so responsive after claiming to be too sensitive.

“ Come on baby, right there”, she grabbed the backs of his hair with her fist and brought him to where she needed him. Still testing her patience, he kissed her skin gently instead. She threw her head back as she tried to push herself toward him.

“ Please …please”, she moaned.

And with that, he enclosed his mouth around her nerves and sucked hard. Instantly, she gasped as he punished her with fast hard licks, pressed firmly against her skin.

“ AAAH!!”, she cried. She came harshly against his mouth, throbbing against each pass of his tongue. He made her ride out her climax until the bitter end. Twitching—she pushed his forehead. He pulls away, kissing up stomach. He sucks bruises into her skin. The suction of his mouth pulls her nipples to pebbles, electrifying a path down her stomach.

“ Aren’t you going to unwrap me? I’m not fully undressed until you do”, she pants. She was tired from those series of mini climaxes that he inflicted upon her. She can feel the rumble from his chuckle vibrate against her chest. He kisses a path back up her chest. The scrape of his beard tickles her neck and he unties it with his mouth. His fingers reach down between her legs to feel her arousal.

Her heart races as he pulls her closer, adjusting his position between her legs. Involuntarily she stiffens. His fingers feel it along her muscles. He stops immediately to assess. “ Where are you right now ? Where did you go ?”

She blinks a few times before she answers. “ Habit. I’m sorry.”

“ Any moment. Even seconds from now or minutes or an hour from now. You can tell me to stop. We can start again when you want. We can try again on a different night. It’s your choice.” He grabs her face in his, his forehead against her own.

“ I know. I know, I want this now. I'm just anxious.”

“ It doesn't have to be perfect Jane," he says quietly. A thoughtful look spreads across his face. She had an idea in her head of what this would be. She would be responsive, she would look perfect, be perfect. But there was no audience. There was nothing to prove. This was for them and nobody else.

She nods quietly and reaches for him. She needed him close to drown out the panic and the noise. To feel his breath in her face, his warmth. He leans down, elbows on either side of her face. With one hand he reaches down and graces his fingers across her cunt, spreading around her arousal. When she relaxes he pushes in one finger. A small gasp leaves her lip but her composure remains.

He asks. “ Okay?”

“ Okay”, she nods.

He pumps it in slowly back and forth, gently sawing with the pressure. Roman is watchful, nearly nose to nose with her as he tests her. A second finger and she groans from the sensation. Her body could tell how long it’s been for her. She's pulsing around his digits as she involuntarily sucks him in. No pleasure was present quite yet. But that was to be expected. For now her focus was only on trying to stay calm.

“ I’ll let you. I’ll let you…”, she whispers to him. Her voice so fragile—in this moment she felt like she was made of glass. He felt it too. He stares at her for a moment, unsure if she’s sure. She nods silently. His fingers pull away and his right arm returns to the side of her head.

He uses his other hand, reaching in between them to center himself with her opening. Then she feels it, that pressure, the stretch. Her eyes widen as he surges forward gently. Jane’s hands fly to his shoulders as she feels a sound creeping up from behind her lips.

Determined to distract her, he grabs her face with soft hands. “ Hey…relax. Relax. Where are you right now? Are you with me ?”, he asks gently.

“ Yes I’m…yes I’m with yo—”, she loses control of her breathing as the air leaves her . She can feel all of him now. He’s sheathed inside of her and the fit is snug.

“ Am I causing you pain?”

“ No…yes…I mean no..I don’t fucking know”, she sputtered. The sensation was overwhelming. To be so filled, so stuffed. To feel the heat of him inside her. The tight fit despite her being the wettest she’s ever been……” You’re just so…big”, she sighed.

“ Your body will get used to it the more I move. We can try another—.”

“ NO …no, just give me a second”, she urged. So instead his mouth found hers as he waited for her body to relax. She was squeezing him so tight he wondered if he’d actually be able to move at all. Sly fingers slip back between them to swipe at her clit. Another wave of arousal seeps around him. He shudders from it. She sucks his tongue. He nips the side of her jaw.

“ Slowly…”, she rasps against his mouth. She can hear a decompressing sigh from him as his muscles shift and he pulls out and in, slowly. Methodically. The drag of him against her walls, his veins, his heat. Foreign, too foreign to derive pleasure so soon. Yet too comforting to hate.

She looked between them as he lifts up slightly, getting a full view of the way he appears and then disappears—coming out gleaming in her arousal. It was her body doing that. It was her body capable of that. It took a moment to register.

“ You’re still far away”, he pants. His composure bending against the pressure of his arousal. His tone swollen with need -velvety and full.

“ Maybe I’m just broken down there. I’m not exactly the type to finish during these endeavors”, she mutters. He doesn’t like that at all. She can tell by the way he tucks in his lips. He pauses for a moment, as he sits back on the heels of his feet. The head of him is just barely tucked into her body.

“ That wasn’t sex”, he says firmly. “ but this is…and it’s a head game. I mean your brain doesn’t even realize how close you are. I can feel it Jane”, he looked down at where they connect. His thumb rolls over her clit as he feels her contract around him. “How about this”. Roman searches the bed for the ribbon he pulled off her and holds it above her face. “ I’m going to put this over your eyes and we’ll see just how much you “don’t work”. With nothing to distract you, you have no choice but to feel”, he explains. Jane looks at the red ribbon. Who would have thought she’d be wearing it as an eye cover.

“ Okay”, she says. He placed the ribbon over her eyes, wrapping it twice around her head. Her fingers press gently against the silk when he’s finished.

Then he’s inside again. Behind the blackness of her lids, she imagines what it looks like. But with her mind racing and her sight missing, the feeling of him inside her is even more prominent. It quiets the noise of her mind as she listens to the soft grunts that escape him as he presses into her. Every little moan that leaves him raises the stakes of her arousal. She can hear how wet she is now and so can he. Her hands seek the wrists he balanced himself on. They wrap around them, feeling the veins in his skin. She can’t even enclose her fist around it. He was just that big. And strangely enough, that thought grew and grew into something more. A naughty thought that ignited all the other hidden ones.

His thrusts change and with a pass of his hips, they thrust upward and press. He brushes up against something startling. Again and again. Each pass becoming more and more sensitive. Her body learns to become reactive to his touch. The pleasure sneaks up on her and wraps itself around her like a thick smoke, clogging her mind. She envisions it as it invades her, fully claiming her. It arrives and her mouth wrenches open in a long, aching, desperate moan.

Encouraging murmurs fall from his mouth but they’re drowned out as small moans bursts from her mouth. Suddenly, she had no control over her volume, no control over what she said. It was as if this foreign pleasure that he promised her had already possessed her entirely.

“ Oh..OHH—fuck!”, she cried. Now she’s thankful for the ribbon. She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to see the way one of her eyes uncontrollably rolled into the back of her head. He surges a bit deeper than before and she can barely control the squeeze of her toes. It’s too complicated to focus on her breathing so every few thrusts she decided it was easier to hold her breath.

“ Breath or I stop ”, he warns.

“ I can’t…pleaseee”, she croakes. Her nails begin to bite the skin on his wrists. That just makes him surge deeper.

“ You can’t cum if you pass out. I need you awake. I need to watch your face when you finally do ”, he pants.

She can feel his mouth on the side of her ankle and his thumb on her clit again. Something rushes through her, it’s so overpowering that it forces the air back into her lungs and then out again, Her body erupts in tingles from head to toe.

This release is deeper, more concentrated, more intense than she’s used to. She squeezes around him so harshly that he hisses as she cums. Her legs shake as he rubs her clit in deep circles, wringing every bit of her pleasure out. She shakes against him like she’d been left out to dry. For a moment she remembers that Roman is greedy. He has no mercy for pleasure and he would very much let it drown her in it if she allowed it.

“ Okayyyy. Okay! Fuckfuckfuck!”, she bursts as she pushes against his chest. He pulls out and gives her some reprieve as she scrambles for the ribbon covering her eyes. He gets to it first, pulling it off for her.

Her eyes are wide when the lights of the room come into view. He’s flustered, sweaty, hair wild all over his head. Suddenly he bursts into a deep chuckle, showing his pearly white teeth as he gazes down at her bewilderment.“ You’d think you saw a ghost”, he snickered.

Her body still tingled, ears still buzzed. She sits up and so does he. “ So I may or may not have overreacted before all of this”, she admits sheepishly. He laughs even harder. No seriously, if she would have known it would be this easy. If she’d known that it would feel like that, she would have done it sooner.

“ Come here. We’re not done… ”, Roman turns to lay on his side. She crawls to him and he pulls her back against his chest. His arm pushes behind her head for cushion while the other hitches her leg up. He slides in with an almost comical ease compared to only minutes ago. Yet, she was just as breathless. Still gasping at the feeling of him inside of her. She turns her head to watch him as he keeps a steady but firm pace. She has to shake off another climax from his expression alone. His eyes are desperate. She swore she could read every dirty thought on his face. She so badly wanted her to enjoy this and it was so evident just by the way his fingers wouldn’t leave her clit. Desperate to make her cum. She can’t help but to steal another kiss because of it.

He angles his hips and her head lulls back into his arm, her eyes rolling up into the ceiling. He was brushing up against that spot again and her volume control went out of the window. The pleads spill out of her endlessly, calling out for something she couldn’t put into words.

“ Right there?”

She nods frantically. “YESyesyesrightthere”, she groans. He leans down to the side of her breast and presses his mouth against her nipple. One of her hands tangles against the duvet and the other scratches the side of his chiseled stomach. The way his hips roll into her should be a crime. His precision— unmatched. When his mouth pops off her flesh she reaches back and feels his hair. He leans closer, pressing his mouth against her ear. A sweet torture, a whisper from his mouth only to her own ears.

“ Is that what you want?”, he grunts.

“ Yes I need it. I need it”, she moans drunkenly. Her brows furrow, mouth biting for the skin of her own lip. The hand under her leg abandons it for her neck. She keeps her leg thrown over his own. She’s wide open to the room. When his hand clasps around her neck, her head falls directly on his arm giving her a full view of his face. A natural surrender. She can’t help the smile that creeps up in between shouts of ecstasy. There’s no pressure in his hand. It just means something. She never felt the desire to be owned or found the appeal. But To be coveted. To trust enough. To admit the defeat of her own walls and hangups. To even allow to let his hand to stay there. To not want him to pull it away. He catches the glint in her eye and a wicked grin spreads across his mouth.

The speed of his thrusts increase and that earns him a nice squeak of surprise on her end. The hand around her neck trails to her jaw. He was especially deep now, so deep she could hardly take a full breath. His eyes darkened as he pressed his fat thumb past her swollen lips and pressed down on her tongue. Her mouth closed around his flesh like it fed her oxygen. A guttural, brutish sound left his mouth at the sight. She could see his jaw clench. A sigh of avidity flows from him. Her eyes rolls back as the climax sweeps her. “ You beautiful creature, my desires incarnate”, he seethes into her mouth. Her tongue slips into his. She tastes the brandy on his tongue and it surges the kiss deeper.

Still, he doesn’t eaves her no time to recuperate as he turns her onto her stomach. His hands find her ass and squeeze. His chest to her back, her head to the mattress, his mouth just above her ear. He feels entirely different inside of her from this angle. He feels wider, endless. She moans his name as inches in.

With the buffer between her ass and his stomach, depth and pace could be more forgiving. However, the angle was even more precise. The tip of his cock dragged against that spot in the most toe curling fashion. He was practically poking it with the way he angled himself into her. He barely pulls out as he rocks into her. Her eyes cross behind her closed lids.

The feeling is so intense, her hands shoot above her head, reaching out for something. His palms come down over the back of hers, holding them flat to the mattress. It feels like he’s molding himself to her like a second skin. He guides her hands underneath her chest, cocooning himself over her body as he gains momentum. The sound of skin slapping echoes across the room, blending with each gasp from her mouth, timed perfectly.

“ You’re sooooo deep”, she grunts against the mattress, muffled and all.

“ You want some out ?”

“ I don’t fucking know—-oh my godddd”, she whines and sputters and twists as he rocks into her. She likes the weight of him against her. She likes the feeling of his heart beat on her back as he ruts into her, grunting his praises. The slickness of their bodies against each other. Grunting his appreciation.

But the sensitivity grows and blooms deep in her stomach. Every sensory combines and jumbles into a looming monstrous feeling.

“ Is it broken?” He taunts.

“ No!”, she shouts.

“ but I thought you said it doesn’t work?”, his thrusts turn to daggers. An attempt at compliance that she gave freely. Rubbing her words in her face.

“ It worksitworksss”, she screeches. His words only riling her up. Only making this deliciously more underable. And those shouts she tried so hard to control finally rolled into screame.

It was sobering to realize just how easily he could reduce her to a screaming, squirming, crying, whining, shell of herself. How easily he could control her body and play it with such precision. He had broken her down into bits, put her together, pulled her apart and washed her away with pleasure. It was scary to know the sheer power of his hands, his mouth, his body —and know that he actively chose to only inflict pleasure with them.

On this very night she was ruined. It could only be him. Now her mind was racing but not the way it was before. Nothing feels this good, nothing should feel this good. And every thought of him that pops up just adds to the pleasure. This is what she wanted for the rest of her days—gentleness, the whisper of sweet nothings, hearty breakfasts, warm beds that smell like him, cigar smoke, late nights, expensive wines, non judgemental ears and mind bending pleasure. In every fucking position. Missionary first and whatever this is second.

“ YES…. YES PLEASE ROMAN. PLEASEEE!!”, she bellowed from her stomach. She spat the words from her mouth like they were poisonous. Like the last words of a drowning person. Deep in her gut she felt the wraith of his passion. A transformative love that grabbed her soul and wrung it dry. Was it pleasure or torture? Could pleasure be torture? Was it natural to feel so much at once —to be loved to the point of insanity ? Because she already came and he was still going. Not even a shudder from his lips or a falter in his hips when she met her climax.

“ ITS SO MUCH!”, she yells .She’s soaked herself and him completely. A new wave of arousal making it’s appearance heard loud and clear. She didn’t think it possible to be aroused so heavily. To be throbbing with pleasure and still want more. To be so unraveled.

She wonders if she has the same effect. His mouth hung open just above the side of her face, brows furrowed, grunting with each thrust. And there was no shame, he didn’t hide his pleasure. His face broke up in the way hers did and her heart sang. She felt the firmness of his muscles on her back and ass, the sweat of him seeping onto her skin, the strength of his arm encompassing her, the powder of his hips. He was perfect…absolutely perfect.

“ Do you feel it my love ?I kept my promise.”

“ FUCKK”, she screeches, voice cracking from the exertion of release after release.

“ I know. I know.”, he whispers. And her emotions meet a peak. Should she be embarrassed to cry? Because she was about to. Howling, sighing, reasoning, praising him. In awe of his beauty, of his strength, of his love.

He was killing something inside of her. Something rotten that had taken root and burrowed itself deep within her being. In the fibers, tissues, blood, and bone of her existence. A spoiled bit that inflicted her mind with fear, desperation, sorrow. It had convinced her she would never be loved. That she would never know pleasure. That she would be left unsated, unhappy and unwanted. That she was nothing. He dug for that bit, seized it, squeezed it, and obliterated it with every swell of pleasure that left her trembling. He washed it away with whispers of ‘I love you’ and ‘you’re beautiful’. As he leaned over her, their eyes connected as her head turns. To hold his gaze only resulted in another wave of gut wrenching ecstasy.

I will take your darkness and turn it sweet. This I vow to you.

She remembers. She remembers those words. And Should could feel the orgasm building from her toes all the way to the nerves under her fucking teeth. “Roman….”, she pleads.

“ Give it to me.”

“It’s so much”, she warned weakly. Slightly afraid from the strength of the release she was harboring. A load too big to carry on her own.

“ I have you.” Roman liked to watch her fall apart. To deploy into the madness of climax. He liked the grit of an orgasm. Not being able to control the eyes or the face. The contortion of the body. Seeing the most primal, stripped down, raw version of someone. She could hardly catch her breath. There was tightness in her chest like she had been running. One of his hands slipped down between herself and the mattress to reach her mound. With just a few swift and firm circles against her clit , she was bursting at the seams.

She came so hard she burst into a hiccup of tears, shaking against the wrath of her orgasm like a leaf in the wind. Her ears rang, white washes over her vision like the sun came out in the middle of the bedroom. He kept his face pressed to hers. He pulled out every bit of her orgasm and rode her wave until the very end. When she finally relaxed into the mattress, nerves shot to hell, he allowed his climax. When he fills her up he shouts. He grinds until he’s twitching—his body yielding him to stop. He trembled as he pulled away.

She turns onto her back and he falls on top of her, careful not to crush her— though she doesn’t mind. They pant out into the room as they catch their breaths. He leans to wipe her face with the back of his hand.

With a voice raspy from the screaming she clears her throat…the first to break the ice. “ Yes again, to the marriage thing by the way.”

If this would be marriage. She could get used to this.

Roman Pov

The next few days were spent giving Jane many more firsts. They went horseback riding and hunting. He sat and watched Arnaud teach her Croquet. Jane was pretty good and became competitive over time. They played card games, went sightseeing and even attended Ballets.

The trip extended itself due to Charlotte wanting to help plan the wedding. In the Palais Royal, a few hundred meters from the property, sat its own chapel. It was an old building, but it was beautiful and surprisingly small compared to the rest of the estate. Jane had expressed numerous times that she wanted to get married soon, surrounded by the friends she’d made along the way. No extravagance, no dramatic entrances, no showboating. Roman obliged without any issue whatsoever. So as he stood at the altar in front of the minister, he wondered if this was enough—if the simplicity of this would be enough for her to remember fondly. Eloise wore a white poofy dress with shiny tap shoes, throwing white flowers down the aisle. She was hopping and skipping, eventually throwing the flowers on guests by accident, of course. Caden was the ring bearer, with much persuasion and bribes on his part.

When he saw her appear at the entrance of the chapel with Earl beside her, all doubt was washed away. Here Jane was in a simple white slip gown, hair down, holding a bouquet of white chrysanthemums that Eloise had picked for her in the garden.

She’d been crying, he could tell. But her smile was radiant. It was probably nerves—the same nerves he’d been feeling the night before and just moments prior. The hairstylist Mary, stylist Guston, Beatrice, Charlotte, and Arnaud were welcomed guests. Rory, Adhar, Cortez, and a dozen other pirates filled the rest of the seats. It was quite a sight seeing the filthy men cleaned up in fancy clothes for the event. It only made sense for Dr. Earl to walk her down the aisle. He cleaned her wounds, nursed her to health, and looked after her in her weakest moments. He’d taken care of everyone on that ship at one moment or another. In some strange way, he was a father to many. His quiet knowledge had been a lifeline at times.

When he took her hand in his as they exchanged vows, he looked deeply into her twinkling eyes. He could see their whole future in them. She’d never looked more beautiful than she did right now. Her thumb swept over the back of his hand when she spoke. He wished he could remember all that was said, but all he could focus on was how beautiful she was and how lucky he was. He stole kisses when he wasn’t supposed to, long before the minister could pronounce them husband and wife.

The reception was held in the orangery, filled with tables, food, cakes, and flowers. He struggled to pull away after the first dance, holding her in his arms, looking into her eyes, whispering things that made her laugh. He lost track of time.

Caden danced with Eloise, twirling her around as she squealed with joy. Rory asked Jane to dance, and she obliged. Adhar raided the dessert bar. Cortez had an intense conversation with Arnaud about his travels east. Charlotte and Earl spoke in German, and it seemed like a comfort for her to finally communicate that way, considering that her mother was German-born. Beatrice, Mary, and Guston enjoyed a drink. Roman was okay with just watching—just taking in all the amazing people he’d come to know. Jane and him had a community that was budding and growing. Now it was only a matter of time before they could give that community it’s own name.

On the high of post-marital bliss, the lordship announcement came late at night at the end of the week. A semi-vacant estate had been cleaned, prepared, and was being filled with help. It was located in the French countryside, overlooking a cliff leading down to the beach.

And after another extended week of waiting, the time finally came. Roman decided it would be better if they arrived first. Everyone else could come later, but this experience would be shared between the two of them first. Jane obliged, and they set out on a three-hour carriage ride with their belongings.

The French countryside alpes maritime offered greenery, peaks and valleys, cobblestone markets, and flower fields. It was comforting and quiet as they inched closer to the property. Jane was anxious, so he held her hand in his as they watched the scenery. A mile from their property, they approached green pastures that expanded for acres. Trees, flower fields, and fresh air with subtle hints of salt characterized the area.

The building itself was Georgian style, with a light brown brick surrounding the entirety of the home. It was characterized by its warm, buttery yellow façade, complemented by crisp white trim around the windows and doors. The exterior had a smooth finish, giving it a refined yet welcoming appearance. The roof featured dark slate tiles, contrasting beautifully with the lighter tones of the walls.

Pebbles rumbled and scratched against the wheels of the carriage as they came to a halt. Fifteen servants stood at the stairs. Tall, multi-paned windows allowed abundant light into the interior, framed by decorative white shutters. The entrance boasted a grand door, framed by a small portico supported by slender columns, creating a stately focal point.

The estate was set amidst lush, landscaped gardens that enhanced its beauty. The grounds were meticulously maintained, with vibrant flower beds filled with seasonal blooms, neatly trimmed hedges, and a variety of trees providing shade and privacy. A winding gravel path led up to the entrance, flanked by ornamental shrubs and colorful blossoms.

Two primary servants, a male and a female, stood to the left of the property. The pair seemed to be the head footman and the head housemaid. They greeted the couple, referring to Roman as Lord Ramlal and Jane as Lady Ramlal. Jane squeezed his hand as they approached the steps.

The interior featured high ceilings adorned with intricate cornices and decorative plasterwork, typical of Regency design. Large windows allow natural light to flood the spaces, framed by heavy drapes in rich fabrics that added warmth and texture. The color palette was warm and inviting, with soft creams, muted greens, and touches of gold. Floral-patterned wallpaper in the drawing room featured delicate designs that added a touch of refinement without overwhelming the senses. The dining room sported a richer hue, a deep navy, complemented by gilded accents.

There were two wings of the home, which housed additional bedrooms and private spaces. A staggering 9 bedrooms, each thoughtfully decorated to provide a unique yet cohesive aesthetic, along with eight well-appointed bathrooms featuring elegant fixtures that combined functionality and style. There was also a library and a study, serving as quiet retreats for reading or work.

The floors throughout the estate were a mix of polished hardwood. In common areas, rich rugs defined seating arrangements and added a layer of comfort, while the staircase featured a beautifully crafted wooden banister that was both sturdy and ornate.

The furniture was a tasteful mix of Regency-era pieces and more contemporary selections. Plush sofas and armchairs, upholstered in luxurious fabrics, invited relaxation, while mahogany tables and sideboards showcased intricate craftsmanship. Decorative accents, such as vases and paintings, added character to the rooms. The house felt lived in.

There were drawing rooms, two dining rooms—one for guests and one for more intimate parties—a small dancing room, servants' quarters, and multiple kitchens for staff and the family. It was almost too much to take in. Jane looked overwhelmed, and Roman was absorbing the information from the head maid.

When they were left to their own devices inside the piano room, the silence was deafening. This was it—the real beginning of their story—a long one he hoped. This house would soon fill with countless memories, its own smell, and the sound of happiness. They would bring her own touch to it.

Their respective wedding guests all piled into carriages to visit the property. The sound of their voices was nothing short of echoes of support and excitement. Caden chose his bedroom like an excited small child. While still wanting to be a pirate so badly, he promised to come and visit often. Being so young, he was still figuring things out. There would always be a home for him if he changed his mind.

Later in the day, they toured the town. It was practically barren, waiting to be filled with the lives of more residents. About twenty people lived there now, and most of them were from humble means. Roman introduced himself as he passed them. Jane, being a bit more shy, stayed behind in the carriage and waved. In his words, he promised to bring life back to the town—more jobs, better food. In the coming weeks, he had his work cut out for him.

But perhaps the best part of the entire estate was that just 800 meters from the back of the house sat a cliff overlooking the ocean. Stone steps lead down to the pebbled shore—a perfect spot for his crew to stop and visit.

The boat that carried them from the dragon's mouth sat in the distance. Roman and Jane walked down the steps followed by Ahdar, Cortez, Rory, and Caden. The rest of the crew waved from from the sides of the ship in the distance.

“It’s blue! They painted it blue!?”, Jane gasped.

A whoosh of salty wind burned their cheeks as they watched Jane. She got closer to the ship. At the front of the boat was a blue-carved figurehead—a mermaid. Jane squinted as her bare feet sloshed through the pebbled water. She looked up at the ship, and then her eyes widened. In her image—her face—was carved into the mermaid.

“’T’was Roman’s idea if you hate it,” Adhar blurted.

Jane was in shock, her mouth hanging open as she stared up at the giant statue of herself. Then her hands found her mouth, and her eyes teared up.

“It’s good luck—a mermaid in your likeness to bring us luck and protect us. She even wears your talisman around her neck. See?” Rory pointed at the mermaid's necklace. There it was—somehow carved in and bolted into the statue was her talisman. A huge smile spread across her face. She gushed about how much she loved it.

On the side of the ship, a blue Bakunawa was carved, chasing a fish. The god itself—a representation of the trials they’d all been through. Through its mercy, they all lived another day. Officially called the Blue Bakunawa, it would sail the seas as the largest pirate vessel ever—a giant among ants. Blessed by Lady Jane Ramlal. The woman of Ramlal Manor. Lady Jane, of the Blue Bakunawa. The best thing that had ever happened to anyone aboard the Black Pearl. Imprinted on the black hearts of many pirates.

The goodbyes were teary. Jane didn’t want Caden to go. He unexpectedly got teary, too. Roman surprised him at the last minute by executing one of his final authorities as captain to appoint him an official crew member. Caden was a pirate. The young boy screamed with joy. His crewmates cheered.

The sun hid itself behind the horizon, going to sleep once more. It was getting late now. Roman took his pirate hat from his head and gently placed it on Adhar. For a moment, the young man did not register. And then he did.

Constant echoes of ‘Really, Captain?!’and ‘Are you sure, Captain?’ fell from his mouth. Fear and excitement clashed.

“You’ve served me well. I hope you find that girl in your journey east. I wish you all the luck. And when you get her back, bring her back here. We would love to meet her,” Roman chuckled. Adhar, still in shock, looked nothing short of a child as he nodded with exaggeration.

Rory picked Jane up and spun her around, as always. Sentimentally, he touched foreheads with Roman—a silent goodbye to two partners. Rory was his right hand, the man who did the hard jobs. A trusted friend.

Cortez and Adhar’s farewells were also surprisingly teary. Roman teased them for it. But then Jane lost it when Adhar hugged her. Understandably, this was hard. Adhar was yet another friend she’d come to know. He taught her sword fighting. They talked about London on numerous occasions and kept her company.

“I’m going to miss you. Write to me,” she sniffled.

“I will. I’ll be back soon, I promise. This time next year we’ll all come back. I’ll even drag William with me if I have to,” Adhar smile.

Roman grinned. “Thank you for all you’ve done for me and for her. You’ll make a great captain.” Adhar clapped a hand over Roman’s shoulder in appreciation.

Roman went on to thank Cortez for being such a fantastic helmsman. He steered the ship with iron hands and a remarkable knowledge of the sea and the monsters they faced. He was valued beyond measure. He got them back in one piece.

“A’right you mangy mutts. New change of plans. You’ll answer to Adhar now. I expect your presence at my dinner table in one year’s time. I order you lot to stay alive until then. Is that clear, you scallywags?!”

��Aye, aye, Captain!” the crew replied in unison. Their stances were rigid as they gave him a pirate salute—the swing of a palm towards the forehead. A final sign of respect.

Hundreds of hands and hats wagged and waved on the side of the Blue Bakunawa as the ship set sail once more. Roman and Jane waved their goodbyes as they watched their friends become smaller, and smaller, and smaller...and smaller.

“And then there were two,” Jane sniffled. She looked up at her husband with joyful, teary eyes, parting ways with the life of a pirate—a crew that had saved her long enough for her to find herself again.

“Two indeed. We have work to do, darling,” Roman quipped, giving her a swift kiss.

“You know what?”

“Mmm?”

“I think I know what my final wish will be,” she urged.

His eyebrows raised in surprise as he looked down at her determined face. “What is it?”

She sighed. “You said to use the wish on myself, but this is something I want. I want this now more than ever.”

“Okay...” he replied, waiting patiently. Her eyes closed as she leaned back into his chest.

“Uh... Dragon?” she called out.

A few moments later, a thunderous and regal voice responded. “What, child?”

“I’m ready to give you my last wish,” Jane blurted.

“...Go on,” said the dragon.

“I wish for our town—the town that Roman and I will build—to be a sanctuary for all misfits. For every ‘other.’ For every unprotected, unrepresented, undervalued person. A town that will share a real community. A town that does not steal from one another. A town that protects its women and children. A town of men with compassion and honor. A town with resources. Nobody will be needy. No one will want for anything. A town that is protected from hatred, prejudice, and disdain. Let this town grow in number and let us have enough housing to accommodate everyone. Let it attract those with open hearts. Allow this town to be a safe haven for all who may seek it. Grant good health to all those who live in this town. And most of all—let there be no evil force strong enough to penetrate it. Let this town be self-sustainable, resilient, and content,” she said.

When the dragon did not answer, she wondered if she had botched her wish. Roman could since her becoming nervous. She wanted quite a few things—surely it couldn’t count as one wish. Could it?

“It is done... goodbye,” said the ominous voice. It echoed and trickled away in the wind, just as Jane’s wish did. Now all that was left to do was watch it come to fruition.

Jane POV

Six months into building their town, Jane had realized a few things. She loved being a wife. She loved the flowers at the end of the week. She loved the candlelit dinners. She loved the authority; people called her Lady Jane or Seigneuress Ramlal. She loved wearing her ring on her finger. She loved the fact that Roman carried her last name. She loved it all.

She loved carpentry. Roman had built a wheat mill with his bare hands, along with the help of 20 other men. She had no idea that he had a background in carpentry and construction. He taught her the basics, allowing her to help along the way.

She fucking loved sex. She loved it so much it usually crossed her mind at least once a day. It was kind of ridiculous. Roman certainly didn’t mind. Her needs were met almost always on demand. It had become well known that all servants were to stay on their wing after 11 o’clock at night.

And last, she loved the friendships she was building. Not just any friendships—girl friendships! Mary was a frequent visitor, along with Charlotte. Three girls, cut from the same cloth, living a life they could be proud of. She never realized just how much they had in common, sharing stories by the fireplace over a bottle of wine, going on long walks on the estate until Ramlal Manor was the size of a dot, and sitting in the grass watching the horses graze. She had never felt the warmth of female friendship until now. Sure she had friends back in London but everybody had to work. There was no time to really bond. Now, She could talk about anything—no judgment. She told stories in detail, stories that would be far too painful for Roman to hear. They did the same, sharing memories—good and bad. There was no shame, only laughter and "me too's." It was comforting and recharging. She loved friendship.

People were coming to the town in droves. More buildings were being bult: farms, businesses, houses, apartments, theaters, taverns and more. The economy was growing and bursting. People needed jobs, and there were plenty to go around.

With much contemplation, she started writing to Aunt Jillian in Westminster, England. Jillian was one of the few relatives she had left. Most of her family in the islands had passed away. They exchanged letters over the span of four months. She wrote about Roman and how they met. She told the story of their love and the people she had come to know. She mentioned nothing of the dragons, monsters, or mysterious island. For now, it was all just "inheritance." She sent a sizable amount of money and planned to visit her family in the next few weeks to discuss relocating to a separate guest property on the estate. It was a relationship she was afraid to pursue, but Roman encouraged it when she brought it up over dinner. Jillian expressed how proud she was of her niece and was saddened that she hadn’t reached out sooner—a reminder to how one’s own suffering can cut them off from the world.

Money had the power to fuel generosity. Now, Jane could help people in ways that she couldn’t before. She couldn’t deny that it was somewhat self-serving; every donation felt like it healed something inside her. She thought back to all the times she wished someone would have come to her aid, all those nights she spent hungry, wondering if things would ever get better. She could be that glimmer of hope for someone.

She started sending money and letters to her old roommates in London with whom she had shared an apartment. It took weeks for them to respond out of skepticism. When they finally wrote back, they were convinced it was some scam and started asking her questions that only the "real Jane" could answer. She responded with precision. The next letter detailed their surprise and shock; they thought she was dead. A few days later, the eight of them were reunited as she convinced them to possibly move to her budding town. They all agreed to make the transition.

Roman had his own hobbies. He loved hunting with Arnaud and his gentleman friends. He enjoyed communing with his town members and made friends with the hardworking men at the mill. He loved reading in his office though Jane loved to interrupt him so that he could fulfill his “husbandly duties”. Roman tried his hand at growing his own tobacco to pair with his pipe collection, and it was a success; he raved about it all day long. Things were coming together well. They grew just as much as individuals as they would together.

While they sat in their dining room, Jane looked up at the portrait that Arnaud had painted of them. She loved it and often stopped to admire it as she passed through the house. As her fork pushed around her dinner, Roman noticed her distracted demeanor. “What’s on your mind? Does the food displease you?”

“No—no. It’s great. I’m just not as hungry.”

“What’s wrong?”

Jane paused for a moment. Was this really a good time? As understanding as he was, sometimes men got weird about these topics. He hadn’t brought it up, so she was taking a leap. “People around town have been asking me when I’m going to have a baby,” she blurted.

Roman paused mid-chew as he studied her face, a mix of light concern and surprise. She wanted to sink back into her seat. “Has this upset you? Who was it? I will have a talk with the—”

“No, no. I’m not upset at all. Besides, you know how middle-aged women can be sometimes. It’s natural for them to ask”, Jane insists.

“It does not have to be natural if you do not wish it,” he explained.

“I know—I understand. I think our life feels pretty full with just the two of us. I’m fulfilled. I’m happy with you all to myself. However, Eloise has changed my mind on a lot of things. She is very loved. I worry that my past would inhibit me from being a good mother.”

“I think if you care so deeply about being a good mother, then that’s usually a good indicator that you would indeed be a good mother,” Roman chuckled. Jane smiled.

“Well... what do you think? Should we?”

“I’m okay if we do. I’m okay if we don’t. After finding you, I feel no need to push my luck. If the innocence of a child is bestowed upon us, I will be most thankful for the privilege.”

“I think we should enjoy each other a bit longer. Maybe I’m selfish, but we’re due a few more years of just being husband and wife. Maybe it’s not in the cards. We’ve had a few accidents,” she shrugged.

“Is it an accident if you beg for it?” Roman scoffed. Jane laughed; he certainly had a point.

“Well… if it was going to happen, it would have happened by now.”

“You and I both know that a few accidents do not guarantee pregnancy. It takes consistency. If we really tried, it would be a everyday all day affair. The whole thing is very meticulous.”

“Have you not been meticulous?” she smirked.

“Negative. I can show you meticulous,” he warned. She shook her head playfully.

“How do you know all this anyway?” Jane squinted.

“I have plenty of fathers for friends. They give me unwarranted advice too. It’s not just you,” he snorted.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Roman pulled her chair closer to his. “Whatever future is ahead of us is a future fulfilled. I could ask for no more. I am incredibly lucky to have you.”

“And I you. I won’t push my luck. If it happens, it happens. If not, there is no loss. When we’re really ready, we will know,” she hummed.

“No loss whatsoever,” he agreed, placing a kiss on her temple.

A tap at the window alerted them. The two fell quiet, waiting for the sound again. Two more taps, and they stood up from the table. Roman walked over to the window and opened it. Jane followed closely behind as a cold draft wafted into the room. A tiny fluttering hoot called from the darkness, and the patter of tiny feet slapped against the balcony railing.

The hoot of two doves perched on the balcony called for their attention. They walked into the light, eyeing the couple.

Jane swooned. “Aww, what on earth are two doves doing all the way out here? Isn’t this a bit too close to the sea?”

“You know, I asked myself the same thing once, but then something really amazing happened,” Roman grinned.

“Let’s not question it then,” Jane smiled warmly.

The End.

Authors note: Well, there ya have it ! I would like to take this time to thank @sortudademais @2-muchsauce @joannasteez @thesamoanqueen @harmshake @fuffduff and many more for being so kind and making my writing experience such a pleasurable journey on this app. If you’ve sent me a kind message or interacted with this story, I Thankyou from the bottom of my heart. I cared so much about these characters. I hope I’ve done them justice.

Epilogue may be pending if I have something else to say but for the most part every end has been tied up. My next work in progress will feature Jey USO and it will be a surfer story so stay tuned for that. Thank you for reading. Reblogs always help but most importantly, tell me what you thought of the story if you’d like. It really makes writing all the more worth it. Bye for now! ❤️

[skele-bunny]

Thinking about College AU Terzomega....

CW - Teacher/Student, all are consenting adults!!

Terzo is one of the few Emeritus siblings that works at the college. Theater and theater make-up! Very big in the arts studio and occasionally drops by the other departments where his siblings are. Omega, a senior getting his medical degree, two very different departments that only met as he was staying after in one of professor Primo's class to finish a test he was absent for when Terzo showed up.

Hearing him babble on about his own students, something about a new pallet destroyed. Omega just... Can't help but keep looking up at him, locking eyes one too many times. Omega finishing up his test and turning it in, smiling and thanking both professors and leaving, only for Terzo to follow him after.

"Hopefully he's not pulling your leg too much, hm?"

"Oh, uhm, no, Sir."

Terzo just babbling before finally turning, offering a card. "There's auditions happening in a couple weeks for The Glass Menagerie. You should consider it." Eyes him a little bit. "Hope to see you soon."

Omega just flushes a bit, watching him walk the opposite way, eyeing the card again. He just glances at the card before continuing on his way. For DAYS he's staring at the card, so glossy in black and gold, eyeing the number on it just as much. He's much, much too busy to really do this. He has tests bi-weekly, classes nonstop... But, why not? Give himself an outlet like he's been needing. Never been a theater kid, so why not a theater adult?

Calling the number, and it's picked up fairly quickly. "I-I was interested... About the auditions?"

Asked to meet in a few days, and eventually Omega is sitting awkwardly across from him. Terzo scrolling through his academics before agreeing, looking at Omega a bit more before reaching into his desk and pulling out a script for Jim.

"Just try it! Couldn't hurt."

Oh.

Oh he's terrible. Terzo listening with an eyebrow raised before reaching back in his desk and offering stagehand sign-ups.

"That bad, huh?"

"Oh, very much so. But I admire it! You gave it a try, so that's what important."

Omega laughs a bit and nods, reading over the new sign-ups, talking a bit back and forth but he can't help with his cheeks getting red as they keep talking. Terzo leans over some, smiling, head tilted.

"Would you like to get some coffee? We can discuss more about the responsibilities later, as I have some more people to go through today."

There's a bit of a blank stare before a nod, and personal numbers exchanged. When they meet, it's a bit awkward, but Terzo stays true to his word! Explaining each requirement, each job and his responsibilities.

"Heavy lifting will be required, of course... But someone of your stature?" Looks him up and down and Omega IMMEDIATELY goes red. "You'll be just fine."

It's not too bad, actually! Omega enjoys moving props, assisting the actors and getting to watch behind the scenes. Coffee meetings continue, and before Omega knows it, there's something else there. Something warm and comfortable. All it takes is him reaching forwards for a cautious hand hold after a few months.

There's a pre-performance party a week before the show, and Terzo is there just as bar patron but happily indulging with his class. Omega's never been one to bury himself in alcohol, but his nerves keep rising from classes and let alone the fact he's SO close to his new boyfriend who's also their professor... In front of everyone. It's embarrassing!

Wanna know what's kinda more embarrassing? Drunk rambling to your professor how much he's made you happy and you want to keep going.

What's even more embarrassing? Waking up in his bed.

Terzo settled so comfortably on his chest, Omega just staring at the ceiling as he tries to figure out what to do. He, eventually, settles on holding Terzo tighter, burying his face in dark hair and agreeing that the situation is a thing for not-hungover him to deal with. He just wants to spend time with his secret lover for a bit.

[frost-queen]

Business wreckage // part 3 (Reader x Jake Seresin)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @alex--awesome--22, @ellie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve , @queen-of-books , @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown , @wildieflower , @meyocoko , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @swampything07, @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @vermillionwinter , @love2write2626 , @magical-spit , @slythetic , @p0nycurtis , @djs8891 , @hookslove1592 , @thedonswife13

Summary: The aftermatch of his actions are still very active. His father asking for updates on his matters, hoping it would settle soon. As the days increase of your stay-in, the more you doubt how long you would handle Jake's teasing and boyish mindset. [ series]

Jake's eyes wandered to your lips with curiosity. Your gaze half in shock as it was clear where he was staring at. Already feeling a warmth creep up in your cheeks. Knowing you would burst into flames if he kept staring at you, you gave him a little shove. Jake's chest moved back, fluttering with his eyelashes to snap him back to reality. - "Go to bed." - you ordered him as this was no good position to sleep.

Jake wiped his hand down his face, trying to supress a yawn. - "I...I still have a few lines to do." - he said picking up his pen to read his last written lines. You took the pen from him, laying it down. - "Not for tonight." - you pressed on. Jake already yawned as you nudged him to get up. He pushed himself up, yawning again. You came walking behind him.

Jake started to sway towards the wrong room as you interfered. - "Sir!" - you called out, taking a hold of his arm and back. - "This way sir." - you said guiding him to his room. You flicked the lights on as it made him groan loud at the sudden brightness. He nearly stumbled to his bed with your help. Jake flopped onto the bed without a care. His legs still hanging out of the bed. Sighing soft, you took his shoes off. Helping his feet onto the bed.

Jake laid himself better, his eyes already closed. You started pulling at the covers underneath him to tuck him in. Using all your might to shove him a bit aside and pull at the blanket. He went along with the movements till you were able to free his blanket from underneath him. - "Goodnight sir." - you whispered laying the blanket over him. Jake didn't respond already off. You turned the lights off before leaving.

Returning to the kitchen, you waited, staring at the counter. His letter clear on the table. Taking a deep sigh, you walked over to it. Coming to sit in his previous seat to read it. Pen between your fingers. It was formal with words you knew he'd never use daily. It was written in the way it would please his father, like he had always been taught. Knowing what words or apology would please his father.

The note not even close to his heart. Exhaling soft, you placed the note down. A moment later you phone beeped. Making you take it out and see who has texted it. Mister Seresin, his father. Swallowing deep, you opened the text. He wanted to know how his son was doing and if he regretted his actions yet. You were unsure what to answer, feeling caught in between.

You knew you needed to be honest with him. But you also felt for Jake. How his father's view on the empire was pressuring him when it was clear he didn't want to take over. He didn't want to waste his time behind a desk. He wanted to fly, be free and have a purpose in life. You also understood why Mister Seresin pressured for him to take over. He was his only son and flying always had risks. You guessed he just wanted to make sure his son would not be harmed.

To rather have him have a save and secured job than a reckless one as flying for Top Gun. Besides who else would take over the empire if not his son. He needed an heir and the only one, didn't even want it. It felt too complicated to be mixed up between them. But you were the bridge between their relationship. Trying to keep both parties as happy as possible.

You texted him back that he was doing alright and that you were working on it. Which wasn't entirely a lie. You then checked the socials one last time. Seeing how people still commented on his behavior underneath photo's of him. They called his behavior snobby and outrageous. Calling him out for ruining the restaurant.

Checking your mails, you sighed soft at their reply's. All going with: due to last events, we are declining any partnership until further notice. A lot of his appointments canceled as no one wanted their business or name be associated with such drama. His shedule was emptying and you had no idea if his reputation could still be mended. Unable to look at it anymore, you shut your phone off. Heading for bed as you couldn't take another thought about it.

He filled his cup with coffee. Turning round, he blew gently on it. His gaze falling on the untouched toast on your plate. He leaned forwards pushing it closer to you. It made you quirk your eyebrow up. - "You're not eating Y/n." - he pointed out. - "Not that hungry." - you replied. Jake curled up a teasing smile. - "If you faint, i'll have to give you mouth to mouth breathing. I have a lisence for it." - he finished with a wink.

The next morning, you were the first one up. Sitting at the counter with your tablet as your toast laid untouched on the plate. Jake entered the room ten minutes later yawning loud and scratching the back of his head. - "Morning Y/n." - he said going to take out a cup. - "Morning sir." - you replied as he seemed to have forgotten about last night. About how visibly he was staring at your lips with the most googly eyes ever. Or he just decided to ignore it.

Your eyes widened hoping you weren't showing him any hints of bashfulness. Quickly taking the toast, you bit a large part of it. - "Good girl." - Jake teased making you shoot him a glare. - "Now where is that letter of mine." - he sighed out, looking around. - "No need to work further on it." - you told him. - "How so?" - he asked confused. - "At least not today." - you specified with a smile.

"I see." - Jake answered. - "Know it doesn't mean I'm letting you off the hook." - you called out to him. Jake started chuckling. - "I was wondering when the battering was coming." - he replied looking all smug. He set his cup down, pressing his hands on the counter, leaning forwards. - "So what's on the agenda today?" - he asked making you look curious at him.

Noticing how dependable he was on you orchestrating his activities. - "You are free to do what you like. I'm not giving you any requirements today." - you responded feeling a bit guilty at how strict you had been keeping him. All in the name of his father. Jake hummed curious. - "Does that mean you are free as well?" - he questioned looking up. It made you look up surprised from your tablet.

"I have work to do." - you told him. Jake puffed loud at the workaholic you were. - "Work that can wait." - he reminded you pushing your tablet down. You shot him a glare only making him smile more teasingly at you. - "What do you even want to do with me." - you asked knowing you had just given him a clear shot to tease you. He already started smirking.

Knowing that mind of his was full of boyish intentions. You sighed loud gesturing at how to spit it out. Jake kept his mouth closed, crossing his arms. - "Go on, tease me. Laugh at your own silly comments towards me." - you told him. Jake remained silent. - "I'm not going to tease you." - he answered. - "You are not?" - you replied in shock. Jake shaking his head. - "The flush on your cheeks says enough." - he pointed out making you touch your cheeks if they had burned up.

Jake laughing loud afterwards as you managed to still fall into his trap. Jake and you went for a walk around the house. Went into town for some supplies. You cleaned around the house as Jake was busy outside. When the evening was falling, you decided to make him a cup of coffee. You found Jake by the car, working on it. - "Sir." - you called out to catch his attention.

He sat up straight, cleaning his hands on a cloth. You offered him the coffee as he accepted it. - "Suprised I can work on a car?" - he asked with a tease. - "No." - you replied knowing well enough he needed to maintain his F16 at Top Gun as well. He gestured for you to take a seat if you wanted to. You kept him company, looking up at the darkening sky.

Jake's phone beeped beside you. You didn't mean too, but you looked at the lit up screen, seeing it was a girl texting him. - "You got a text." - you told him as he moved his head from under the hood. He reached his hand out for you to give him the phone.

You watched as Jake smiled briefly, quick to respond to it. - "One of your many flirts?" - you asked him with a tease. Jake turned to look at you. An intruisive thought crossing his mind. - "Do you even have a life beyond this?" - he wanted to know.

"You are my life." - you responded all too quickly. Realizing too late what you had said, you got up. Running back inside with a head full of shame. What must he think now of you. Pathetic was the least how you wanted him to see you.

----------------------------------------

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[majoriehoax]

╰┈➤ ❝ REMADE BOTS UPLOADED ❞

╰─▸ ❝ @majoriehoax

disclaimer — i know we all are rattled with the election results. i do NOT want to take the attention off the results however i hope maybe some people can distract their anxious minds. Saoirse.

╰─▸ ❝ ANTHONY BRIDGERTON ☀︎ cozy mornings || The morning sunlight filtered gently through the lace curtains of the Bridgerton estate, casting a warm glow over the spacious bedroom. Anthony Bridgerton stirred awake first, his gaze immediately falling on his spouse, user, still asleep beside him. There was something peaceful about this quiet moment, a stark contrast to the fast-paced world of London society outside these walls. For once, there was no responsibility weighing on his shoulders—no titles to uphold or families to care for. It was just the two of them, wrapped in the calm of their shared space. Anthony didn’t move, afraid to disturb the soft rise and fall of user’s breathing. Instead, he allowed himself a rare indulgence: to simply look at them, study the serene expression on their face, the way their hand rested lightly against his chest as if, even in sleep, they sought his presence.

╰─▸ ❝ ART DONALDSON 🧺 house husband || It was early evening, and the soft golden light of the setting sun filtered through the kitchen windows, casting a warm glow over the room. Art stood at the stove, humming quietly to himself as he stirred a pot of pasta. His casual jeans and well-worn T-shirt reflected the comfort of being at home. The faint smell of garlic and herbs filled the air, mingling with the sound of soft music playing in the background. From the living room, Art could hear the faint clicking of keys on a laptop—his spouse was still hard at work. They'd had a busy week. Art smiled to himself, proud of everything they'd accomplished.

╰─▸ ❝ BENEDICT BRIDGERTON ⋆𐙚₊ marys song || Benedict sat at the small table in their garden, the sun just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a soft golden light over everything. The evening was calm, the kind of peace he had come to cherish after years of bustling society events. He leaned back in his chair, glancing over at his spouse, who was arranging a few wildflowers picked from the edge of the garden earlier. He smiled to himself—how something so simple could feel so perfect. He watched as they carefully placed each bloom in a vase, their movements gentle, almost absent-minded, as though this moment of domestic bliss was as natural as breathing. Benedict felt his heart swell with affection, marveling at how lucky he was to have found someone who understood him in a way no one else could. They didn't need grand declarations or the drama of society’s attention. No, they had something better—quiet, enduring love.

╰─▸ ❝ KIT WALKER 𖤐 common room || Kit sat in the dimly lit common room of the asylum, the old, worn-out furniture looking more like relics from a bygone era than pieces of comfort. The buzzing fluorescent light overhead flickered occasionally, casting a stuttering shadow on the walls. He leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on the door. His life had taken a turn for the surreal, and every day here felt like a maze with no exit. He glanced over at user, who had quietly taken a seat across from him. Kit had grown accustomed to the way she would occasionally glance his way, as if trying to gauge his mood or maybe just to offer a semblance of companionship in this isolating place. It was an unspoken understanding they had, a quiet solidarity forged in the midst of the asylum's chaos.

╰─▸ ❝ STU MACHER 🧺 casual picnic || Stu had never been the “let's-go-on-a-wholesome-picnic” kind of guy. But here he was, parked at a rest stop, the wind making that weird screechy sound against his car windows. He leaned back in the driver’s seat, tossing a bag of chips over to the passenger side like it was some five-star delicacy. "Okay, babe, check it out," he grinned, cracking open a soda with one hand, "Fancy gourmet picnic, Stu-style. We got Doritos, some sketchy gas station sandwiches, and—wait for it—a Snickers for dessert. What more could you want?"

— SAOIRSE.

thank you so much for 600+ followers and 75k+ interactions. i love you guys sm. 🩷

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[sheerfreesia007]

Little Bit of Time

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader

Word count: 2,646

Content warnings: Fluff

Summary: Hyunjin unknowingly steals a promotion from you that you’ve been working towards for years and it causes your new friendship to sour slightly as you try to come to terms with being passed over for the promotion. What happens when he tries to get back into your good graces with the help of his shiny motorcycle?

“So did you see the new episode yet?” Asked Vicki as she walked out of the office building with you towards the parking lot where you both parked. It was the end of another busy workday and you were eager to get home so that you could relax and catch up on your shows before heading to bed.

”No, but I have it saved on my DVR. Going to hopefully catch up tonight once I get home.” You tell her as you hike up your messenger bag onto your shoulder. You both walked along the courtyard in front of your office building before she giggled brightly causing you to look at her confused before noticing she was looking towards the parking lot. Turning your head to the parking lot you groaned loudly and she giggled loudly again as the sound of a motorcycle engine rang out in the parking lot.

Hwang Hyunjin straddled his motorcycle with a seductive smirk on his face as he watched and Vicki walk towards the parking lot. He sat there dressed in his button up charcoal gray shirt with his blood red tie loosened around his neck while a pair of black dress pants hugged his lower half perfectly. He leaned forward on his motorcycle as if he was lounging in his bed and smirks softly at you as his eyes follow you.

Rolling your eyes you sigh softly, he couldn’t just let you have a day without crossing your path. Hwang Hyunjin was a gorgeous human and he knew it, but while you found him utterly ethereal there was one sole reason for you not to be happy to see him right now.

You had been working at the company for at least two years before he was hired on in the same department as you about three months ago. You had been on the fast track for manager and had been toiling away trying to show your supervisors that you were ready for the promotion and that you would be a perfect fit. And while when Hyunjin had first started in your department you had befriended the man and would often help him out with anything he didn’t understand or was struggling with. You had become fast friends but soon you noticed your supervisors began to favor him and ultimately chose him as the new manager when the position became available.

Ever since the announcement had come out two weeks ago that Hyunjin had been chosen for the manager position you had pulled away from the gorgeous man and now he was your new manager. It made you so angry that your supervisors had chosen him over you and he was so knowledgeable because you had helped him along the way! Every time you had to interact with him at work now always seemed to enrage you and sadden you. It was like you were being pulled in two different directions at the same time and it was starting to drag your mood down each day.

”You ladies need a ride home?” Hyunjin called out friendly and you scoffed softly as Vicki giggled softly before shaking her head.

”No thanks, Hyunjin. I drove today. But maybe she does?” She suggested as she waved her hand at you causing you to scowl darkly at her.

”Yeah? Need a ride home?” He asked hopefully as he leaned further across his bike to get closer to you. “I could give you a lift.” He said eagerly before he patted the seat of his motorcycle. Your eyes followed his hand movement and you frowned softly at it, you weren’t very keen on motorcycles preferring to be in a car or a bus. Motorcycles make you nervous. You were always worried about the riders falling off their bikes or skidding along the pavement.

”No thanks, I’m gonna take the bus.” You said dismissively as you waved your hand. Hyunjin’s hopeful look fell suddenly from his face and he looked at you dejectedly.

”My bike would be quicker than the bus.” He offered and you shook your head again.

”No thanks.” You said as you walked around his bike and him as he pouted softly at you. Suddenly he reached out and grabbed onto your wrist tugging you back towards him and you turned to scowl at him.

”I swear I didn’t purposely try going for the manager position.” He said softly to you and you looked up at him surprised as your mouth hung open slightly. “I was just trying to make friends and learn the ropes of the job from you. But when they offered me the position I couldn’t pass it up, especially with the pay upgrade.” He said honestly and you furrowed your eyebrows at him before you sighed softly at his reasoning. You understood it completely but it still stung you when he was chosen for the position over you when he had only been working there for a few months in comparison to your years of hard work.

”I get it. It still hurts though.” You told him softly. “Just give me some time to get over the hurt. I had been working for that position for two years and they chose you after only a few months. It’s frustrating and disheartening.” You told him honestly and he nodded his head at your words.

”I know, I’m sorry.” He said softly and you smiled bitter sweetly as you nodded your head at him.

”I gotta get going, the bus will be here soon.” You told him and he nodded quickly before letting go of your hand.

”I could still give you a ride.” He suggested and you shook your head.

”Bikes make me nervous. I’ll stick to the bus.” You told him honestly and he looked at you quietly before tilting his head at you with a curious look on his face. “What?” You asked cautiously.

”Just never pegged you as someone to be afraid of anything.” He said with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

”I’m not afraid.” You insisted and he smirked softly at you teasingly. “I’m not. I just don’t trust them.” You told him haughtily and he chuckled softly before leaning towards you with a seductive smirk on his face.

”It’s not the bike you should trust but the rider.” He said softly and you gasped quietly as your head whipped up to stare into his eyes. “You better run, I think your bus is pulling up.” He teased softly and you quickly turned to see that your bus was slowly pulling up to the bus stop. You cursed softly and began racing for the bus as Hyunjin chuckled softly behind you.

Thankfully you had managed to catch the bus in time and as you sat down in a seat you silently watched out the window as Hyunjin waved at the bus before putting his helmet on and starting his bike and riding off. You sighed quietly to yourself knowing that it wouldn’t take you long to get over the sting of being looked over for the promotion; it would just take you a little bit to get used to.

*-*-*-*

The next week Hyunjin steps into his new role as manager and you’re tasked with being the lead on a new project for the department. The two of you have to work closely together since he’s the manager overseeing the project while you’re the lead and have to report to him. You hug your binder to your chest as you walk over to Hyunjin’s office and knock on his closed door.

”Come in!” He calls out and you slowly open the door to peek inside at him.

”Do you have a moment to go over the project? We found a slight issue with the coding on one of the programs and I.T. Is giving us a hard time about getting it fixed.” You advised and he nodded his head beaconing you forward. As you waited for him to review the binder you looked around his office noticing that he still hadn’t gotten all of his decorations up. The office was spacious but not too big, just the right size with some large windows that brightened up the room. It made you slightly envious as you sighed softly as your hurt rose up inside you once more.

“Alright, let me talk to the manager over I.T. And I’ll see what I can do.” He said easily and you nodded your head as you turned to look at him.

”Thanks boss.” You said before walking out of his office not catching the soft frown on his face.

*-*-*-*

The week after that is the presentation for the project to upper management and you’re a nervous wreck. You’re sitting in a chair around a large conference room table with Hyunjin sitting next to you. Suddenly you feel a hand slip over yours underneath the table and you look down at it before looking up at Hyunjin with wide confused eyes.

”You’re going to do great. You know this project inside and out. Don’t worry about anything and just explain the project to them.” He said softly as he leaned over towards you. You sucked in a soft breath and nodded your head at his words feeling your confidence rise with a boost.

With just his simple reassuring words you were able to successfully present the project to upper management and had done so well that they had agreed to accept the project as is and move along with it on the spot. You had been shocked that they agreed with the project and accepted it so easily but as you turned to stare at Hyunjin he had a wide pleased smile on his face as he stared back at you with soft knowing eyes.

*-*-*-*

That night as you’re cleaning up your desk space Hyunjin walks out of his office and notices you are still in the office. You don’t notice him coming up behind you until he’s right by your side and you’re jerking back away from him in surprise.

”Geeze, you scared the life outta me.” You tell him as you press a hand to your chest as you feel your heart racing from the fright.

”Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He said softly as he watched you continue to clean up your desk. “What are you still doing here? It’s late.” He asked curiously and you smiled softly at his concern. No matter that he was now your manager there was still the friendship you had built together, it was like a flowing river between the two of you.

”I had some to take care of tasks that I had to set aside while working on the project. I was lucky to be able to get them done.” You explained and he nodded his head at your words.

”The bus won’t run this late will it?” He asked softly and you shook your head as a soft smile slipped onto your lips.

”I’m going to call a cab to take me home. Don’t worry.” You told him and he stared at you silently for a moment.

”Or…” he began to say and you looked up at him with a furrowed eyebrow. “I could drive you home.” He suggested gently and you frowned softly at his suggestion.

”On your bike.” You said uneasily and he nodded his head quickly as his eyes sparkled with hope.

”I swear I’ll be extra careful with you behind me. You can hold onto me as tight as you need to. I won’t speed.” He began to rush out quickly and you frowned softly as you crossed your arms over your chest as you regarded him quietly. You were still uneasy about bikes but with the way Hyunjin was trying to reassure you that it would be okay and that it would be safe made you want to trust him. Taking in a deep breath you looked up at him for a moment as he stood there staring down at you.

”You promise to be extra careful?” You ask softly and he quickly nodded his head in reassurance.

”Yes, absolutely.” He said just as softly as he tried to curb his excitement at driving you home.

”Alright, fine. But this won’t be a habit.” You tell him firmly and he nods his head quickly at your words.

”Of course not.” He says before quickly grabbing your hand and walking you out of the building to the parking lot where he had parked his bike. He grabbed one of the helmets that he had strapped to his bike and placed it on your head before buckling it underneath your chin securely. He grinned happily as he tapped it a few times making you cry out as you batted his hands away causing him to chuckle happily at your antics. You watched as he put his own helmet on and secured it under his chin before he swung his leg over the bike and straddled it. “C’mon, hop on behind me.” He told you as he waited for you to climb on behind him.

You slowly swung your leg over the bike making sure not to hit him accidentally before you too straddled the bike but with a little bit of a struggle. The bike was large underneath you and your legs weren’t as long as Hyunjin’s so you had a slightly more difficult time straddling the bike. But as he directed you on where to place your feet you soon were settled on the bike and he slid back towards you until your front was flush to his back causing you to blush lightly at the contact. You then wrapped around arms around his waist and settled your cheek against his back.

When he started the engine you wrapped your arms tighter against his waist and heard him chuckle softly before he patted your hands gently. He then began to ease the bike out of the parking spot before slowly driving around the empty lot a few times before exiting out on the main road. You sighed softly thankful that he had driven around the parking lot allowing you to get used to the feel of the bike before getting onto the road. 

As you both drove along the roads you kept your eyes partially closed still feeling uneasy and nervous on the bike. But soon your eyes began to open as you felt the cooler air rushing around both you and Hyunjin. It woke you up and made you feel as if you were racing along the road even though he was driving at a slower speed like he had promised. You even began to take in the lights of the city as they rushed past you and you couldn’t help but admire the pretty picture they made.

You cuddled closer to Hyunjin’s back and slowly began to relax against him as you got used to his driving and his bike underneath you. One of Hyunjin’s hands came to rest over yours gently as he pulled up to a red light and you hummed softly along with the purr of his engine.

”So do you trust the rider more now?” He asked teasingly over his shoulder and you laughed softly at his question.

”I’m starting to.” You answered cheekily and he flicked the top of your hand causing you to laugh loudly in the nighttime air.

”I’ll take it for now. Eventually I’ll get you to completely trust me.” He teased back and you hummed softly as you rested your cheek against his back once again as he began to drive through the green light. Your eyes eagerly took in the lights of the city as he drove you home knowing that eventually you would come to trust him completely. It would just take a little bit of time.

SKZ Taglist: @intartaruginha, @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin, @simpforleeknaur, @inlovewithstraykids

[stargirlygirl]

Upgrade pt. 2

Pro Hero Midoriya Izuku x fem!reader

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3

Summary: Izuku gets severely injured during a rescue mission. As a result, most of his left arm is amputated. You, being a mechanical and biomedical engineer (and his loyal girlfriend), decide to build him a cybernetic arm to replace the arm he's lost.

Word count: 6.7k

Other character appearances: Todoroki Shouto + Bakugou Katsuki

🚨Disclaimer & Warnings: Izuku has most of his left arm amputated and it is emotional + swearing

------------₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊------------

It’s 8am and you’re in the elevator riding up to level 3. You’ve taken the next week off to see your pookie. And you’re anxious to see him, but not yet. There’s someone you need to speak to first. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. You walk down the white linoleum corridor, eyes peeled for that tall, lanky doctor. There! He has his back to you, speaking with a nurse outside of the recovery room.

You come up behind him, keeping a respectful distance of course, and wait patiently. The nurse acknowledges you with a nod. Once she leaves, Dr Kita turns around and gives you a lazy smile.

“What can I do for you, Miss [L/n]?” You notice how dark his under-eyes are and wonder if he’s been here all night. Wouldn’t be much different to you, for you’ve been up the whole night drawing up plans that you’re about the show him, if he gives you the time of day. “I’ve been thinking about Midoriya’s surgery and I wanted to know what kind of prosthetic you were going to give him.”

He raises a thick, black eyebrow, “I don’t choose, Miss [L/n]. Mr Midoriya will choose his prosthetic from a list of accredited providers.” You gulp. Okay, not exactly where you were hoping this conversation would head. Your palms begin to get sweaty. You open and close them, hoping to loosen up some of your nerves over what you’re going to ask.

“Miss [L/n].” Your heart pounds. You can hear it thumping. The blood rushing. “Mhmm.”

“I’m rather busy, so please, just ask me what you want to ask.” He stares at you shrewdly over the rim of his metal frames. “Okay, so, I’m a biomedical engineer and I was thinking that because Izuku’s amputation was open, then I could build him a cybernetic arm and we could attach it surgically.”

He sighs, “Miss [L/n].”

Fuck, he thinks this is really weird, doesn’t he? “Cybernetic arms work by—”

“I know how cybernetic arms work.” His mouth is pressed into a hard line as he stares you down.

“Izuku is Japan’s Number One hero. Give this man a regular bionic arm and he could never be that again. Look at all the heroes that lost their limbs in the Final War. Replace what’s missing of his left arm with a cybernetic arm and he could continue his hero work. Maybe not as number one anymore, but he could still make a difference in society as a hero.”

Dr Kita just looks at you and you stare right back. This isn’t the first time a man has looked down on you and your ideas as an engineer because you’re a woman. You know that you just have to stick it out. Be confident in your argument, your design, and keep pushing until he relents and takes you seriously.

Just when it looks like he’s about to tell you to get lost, he surprises you with, “Can you build a robot?”

He doesn’t mean it sarcastically. He means it genuinely. Fair question. Most of your colleagues can’t. “Of course I can build a robot. I did mechanical before specialising in biomed.”

“Have you ever built a prosthetic arm before?” He’s got a half-smile on his face, perfect teeth barely visible.

You have to look away momentarily from that intense gaze, “I’ve built a robotic arm before. I built Izu’s current hero suit. And, I know how One For All works. How hard can it be?”

Dr Kita sighs again and looks down at his clip board. It’s quiet for a few moments before he speaks again, “I assume you’ve got the designs.” You automatically reach for your bag on your shoulder, pulling it down and grabbing out your folded and coffee-stained designs. You begin opening them up to show him when he places his slender finger on the folded edge. “I finish in thirty. You’ll be in Mr Midoriya’s room, I assume. I’ll come over and you can show me then.” You nod in response and smile. “Thanks, doctor.” You bow and turn to leave, but he adds, “Run it by him first, yea?” You hum in agreement before returning to the elevator and taking it up to level 5, where Izuku’s been moved to for his stay at the hospital.

You knock on his door (as they’ve given him a room to himself) and let yourself in once you hear his permission. He’s sitting upright, stocking and drainage tubes on his left, cannula on his right. The sunlight kisses his pale skin, illuminating his freckles and bringing out those flecks in his dark green hair and eyes. He smiles once he sees you, inviting you to come over to him. You pull out the bento box you made for him this morning, setting it on the table next to his bed before you grab a chair and sit at his side.

“I missed you. How have you been holding up?” You place your hand just above his knee that’s covered by the thin blankets. He gives you a small smile. You can see how the skin around his eyes are puffy and red. Not well, you take it. “I brought you some of the curry I made. Do you want some?” He hums softly.

You grab the travel case from your bag, whipping out a pair of wooden chopsticks and a rice spoon. You place the bento on your lap. It’s still warm from the fresh rice you placed in it before leaving for the station. You open the lid, slipping it beneath the box. “Mhmm, it smells good, honey.”

“I got you some curry,” you say, pointing to the little compartment with the curry, “some rice, pickled onions, strawberries, and some hard-boiled eggs.” You grab one of the egg-halves with the chopsticks and bring it to Izuku’s mouth. “Honey, I can feed myself,” he says quietly. “Shhhh, here comes the aeroplane.” You begin winding and swerving the egg through air. Izuku chuckles and lets you feed it to him. He smiles warmly as he chews on the egg.

“Mhmm yummy. You want another one?” You’re already grabbing another egg. He stares lovingly at you and let’s you feed him this one too. Actually, you end up feeding him the curry and rice too as you don’t want them to get cold before he’s tried any.

You place the bento back on the table and look down. Sensing your sudden nervousness, Izuku rests his right hand on top of yours, on his thigh. It’s scarred from years of pro hero training and work, warm, and large, enveloping your own baby hands. He smiles gently at you, silently urging you to tell him what’s on your mind.

You let out a shaky breath. “Izu-chan…” He gazes back at you with those puppy eyes. “Mhmm.”

You look down, focusing on the back of his hand. “I want to replace most of your left arm with a cybernetic one.”

You trace the scars on his hand. The peaks soft beneath your fingertips. You can feel hardness of the tendons just beneath the delicate skin. “So, I’ll be like… part robot?” You look back up, seeing the confused look on his face, “Um, yea, pretty much. I’ve already spoken to Dr Kita about it. He’ll be coming in shortly and we’ll go through the designs I’ve drawn.”

“You already drew designs. Don’t those take hours hours, love? Don’t tell me you stayed up all night.” You bite the side of your lip before laughing a bit, more to yourself. “I thought you could tell now when I’ve pulled an all-nighter, pookie.”

Izu moves what’s left of his left arm, groaning in pain once again. You’re immediately on alert, leaning over him. “You okay?”

“Yea, I just keep forgetting… about that.” You sit back down, grabbing his right hand with both of yours. You smile at him reassuringly, seeing that sheepish look on his face. A comfortable silence hangs in the air for the next couple of minutes. You both thinking over what’s just been said. You start to think that he doesn’t like your idea when he pipes up, “Okay, I trust you, honey.”

You’re literally gob-smacked, jaw open wide, eyes even wider. “What? You mean,” you fumble your next words as you stare at him, dumbfounded. “You mean, you’ll actually let me build you an arm? And like, attach it you? Like, ‘you can’t easily get rid of it’ attach it to you? Seriously?”

He chuckles at your rambling. “Of course I will. You know a lot more about this kinda thing than I do, sweetheart. If you think it’s for the best, then I trust you. But…”

You’re on the edge of your seat, anxious for that objection. “But?”

“I’ll be able to be hero again, right? With a robotic arm, I mean.” He looks at you curiously, hand squeezing yours again. You sigh, “Izu-chan, you are a hero. Even with a robotic arm, you’ll still be a hero.” He nods, hand leaving yours to rub the back of his neck. “Thanks hon—” You’ve already leaned over him again, and this time, you cut him off mid-sentence with a brief kiss.

Well, it was supposed to be, but it became much deeper once he cups your right cheek, angling your head just right for him to slide his tongue over your bottom lip. You moan into him, granting him access. Your hands come to the nape of his neck, fingers tugging at the stray curls. Tongues swirl in a flurry of longing and ecstasy. How long had it been since you two kissed? Like, kissed.

You’re already straddling him. Saliva beginning to drip down from the corners of your mouth. Izuku groans as you tug harder at his curls, his large hand slipping to hold the back of your neck, beneath the curtain of loose [h/c] locks.

The sound of throat-clearing catches your attention. You’re pulling away from each other instinctually. The culprit stands at the door, long fingers still wrapped around the door knob. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

You quickly get off of Izuku, sitting back in your chair at his bedside. You fiddle with your hair and wipe the saliva from your lips. Dr Kita sets a second chair next to yours. You shuffle so that you can easily look at him and Izuku.

You notice Izuku’s cheeks have gone red, as well as the tops of his ears and his chest. You giggle, realising how embarrassed he must be. You’re pretty embarrassed too, but it’s to be expected. You’re both pretty touch starved after being separated for a month.

“So, where are these designs you wanted to show me?” Dr Kita begins, seated, calm and poised as ever. You grab your bag which lies against the hospital bed, pulling out your designs and laying them on top of Izuku’s legs. You begin explaining them to Dr Kita, not holding back as you get into the nitty gritty of what materials you’re intending to use, estimated costs, mechanics, electrode implantation, as well as having transformative features if you’ve got time like a cannon or rifle. You pause a few times to look back at Izuku. His blush goes down fairly quickly and, he just nods as you speak. He’s probably got no clue what you’re on about.

“And how are you going to test this arm?” Dr Kita asks. You look at Izuku, the same train of thought passing through you. He nods gently, urging you to continue on. You take a deep breath in, “You do know about my quirk, don’t you?”

And now it’s your turn to raise your eyebrow at Dr Kita. He just stares back at you, seeming mildly perplexed. “Am I supposed to?” You chuckle, “You seriously don’t know? The media couldn’t shut up about it when they found out.” You look back at Izuku and he’s just staring at you with that content expression on his face again. You turn back to the tired doctor beside you.

“My quirk is called ‘quirk stealer’ but it’s more like ‘quirk borrower’. But that doesn’t sound very cool, does it? My quirk allows me to ‘steal’ the quirk of others for up to 24 hours at a time by kissing them. I intend to ‘steal’ Izuku’s quirk, One For All, for a day so I can test how the arm holds up against his quirk and make any necessary adjustments.”

Dr Kita just stares at you disbelief. His mouth hangs slightly open, browheads sloping upwards. It takes him a few moments before he chuckles. He shakes his head as he does so, sunlight catching on loose black strands slipping from his low bun.

“Of course you do.” He re-adjusts, crossing one slim leg over the other. “Fine. Your design sounds good. Plan is thorough enough. Your only issue is that we can only keep his wound—” His boney finger points to what’s left of Izuku’s left arm, “open for a week, maximum. You’ll be, well not you, Mr Midoriya will be very lucky if his wound hasn’t become infected by the time you’ve finished construction and final testing of the arm.”

Your brows furrow at this. It was something you’ve considered but had avoided thinking about. You lean forwards slightly towards Dr Kita, saying in a low voice, “Realistically, how long do you think I have before infection sets in?”

“It all depends really.” Dr Kita pushes his glasses up, from resting on the bump of his nose to the space just before that. He looks over at Izuku, studying him carefully. “Some patients’ wounds become infected within hours. For others, it takes days.” His gaze flickers back over to you. “You’ll want to get him back in theatre and attach the arm as soon as possible.”

You nod. “Umm,” Izuku starts, his voice is quiet and hesitant, “just to clarify, honey, you’re not attaching it, are you?”

You tilt your head to the side, pouting, you say in a serious and saddened tone, “I thought you trusted me.” Your boyfriend shakes his head, “I do—”

“I’m kidding. Of course I’m not?” That wasn’t supposed to be a question, but it turns into one as you look back to Dr Kita and he nods. “You think I’d just let you operate without any qualifications or training? I hope you know what you’ll find beneath that dressing.” You laughing nervously, unable to tell if Dr Kita is joking or if he’ll actually make you operate on Izuku “Of course I do.”

Dr Kita agrees to speak to one of the orthopaedic surgeons to arrange Izuku’s prosthetic attachment, clearing up that you in fact WILL NOT be performing surgery on your boyfriend (as you shouldn’t be). You both thank him profusely and soon, it’s just the two of you again.

You two settle into a comfortable conversation, talking about everything that’s happened over the past month. You find out that it wasn’t until last week that Shoto and Ingenium had been brought onto the mission because of how close they were getting to the organisation orchestrating the sale of young women for quirk breeding.

“I still can’t believe that that still exists in this day and age.” You’re utterly discussed by this and it’s apparent in your voice. Izuku nods in agreement.

He continues on, telling you how he’s been rooming with Dynamight in this abandoned apartment overlooking a series of night clubs since the mission started. It’s been filled with lots of teasing and arguing. Getting older, going off on their own, Midoriya and Bakugou’s relationship isn’t as… explosive (like what I did there?) as it was at UA. Being high-ranking pro heroes now, the competition between them is friendlier. Not friendly. But, friendlier. There was a healthy rivalry between them now.

“If I’m being honest though,” Izuku lowered his voice to a whisper as he leaned closer to you, “I’m glad that it’ll be back to the two of us from now on.”

“WHAT WAS THAT DIPSHIT?!”

You turn in shock as Dynamight bursts into the room, door slamming into the wall, hinges shaking. He’s in a hospital gown, bandaged arms peaking out.

“Kacchan!” Izuku says, surprised by his visit. You were surprised that Dynamight could still hear Izuku despite how loud his explosions are. You thought he would have hearing aids by now. Or does he? Fuck, his spiky ass hair is in the way so you can’t see clearly.

“The fuck happened to you?” Bakugou questions, stopping right next to you and pointing at where Izuku’s left arm should have been.

Okay, you’re not having that. “Hey!” You stand up, puffing up your chest and getting in the ash blond’s face. Not that you can cause he literally towers over you, but you get an A for effort girlie. “None of this would of happened if you weren’t such a hothead!”

Fun fact, you’ve actually met Bakugou. You met him last year at the annual pro hero conference afterparty. It was brief, but you already knew from Izuku’s stories that this man was quite… rough. Your meeting then only confirmed such beliefs when he was shouting at Izuku for having a girlfriend and not bringing her around to meet his friends sooner.

“OI, WHO DO YOU THINK YOU’RE TALKING TO, PIPSQUEAK?!” He yells in back in your face. His breath is hot as it hits your face. “YOU FUCKFACE! You’re the reason my boyfriend lost his arm.” Your fingertips jab his chest. Holy truck he’s hard. This man is built like a fridge.

“Tch. YOUR BOYFRIEND IS THE REASON HE LOST HIS ARM! IT’S NOT MY FAULT HE CAN’T EVEN CONTROL HIS QUIRK.” Bakugou’s hands grab your upper shoulders, gripping them tight. They’re sweaty and stick to your baggy graphic tee. “OI! GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME before you start going off.” Your fingers grasp his wrists. They’re hotter than you’ve ever felt before. You can feel his pulse beating.

“Kacchan, that’s enough.” Izuku says like a primary school teacher scolding a child.

“I’LL DECIDE WHEN IT’S ENOUGH!” Bakugou’s fingers squeeze into the flesh of your biceps. You yelp reflexively.

“Kacchan!”

“ALRIGHT ALRIGHT.” He releases you from his grasp. Now leaning close to you, almost touching, to point at Izuku. But before he can get a word out, Izuku tells him off, “Can you at least apologise for hurting my girlfriend?”

“FINE.” Bakugou looks down you, not moving an inch. “I’m sorry, okay?” You just nod, leaning slightly backwards to keep you two from touching. This man really has no hold on personal space, does he?

Bakugou energetically points at Izuku, yelling “LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE DONE DEKU! HOW ARE YOU GOING TO BE A HERO NOW?! Tch. And I thought you were my equal. I WOULD NEVER GO N’ GET MY ARM CUT OFF LIKE THAT!”

You end sitting back down once Bakugou leaned even further in. This isn’t really any better though. His hips are very close to your face so, you’ve settled for just turning away from him to look at Izuku. And broccoli boy just takes it. He doesn’t try to stop Bakugou from having his little tantrum. It’s probably better this way anyways. Bakugou can just get it off his chest and be done with it.

I guess he made a good choice for his hero name though, ‘Dynamight’, cause this guy really explodes. Sorry. That could of been sexual if I made it sexual. I meant his anger. Anyways…

After a while, Bakugou just stops hurling insult after insult. He finally huffs and sits down on Izuku’s bed.

“You’re such a dumbfuck, you know that?”

Izuku chuckles, “Yes, I know.”

“WHOSE GONNA BE MY COMPETITION NOW, HUH? WHAT? WHAT ICYHOT? IS THAT BASTARD REALLY GONNA BE MY RIVAL NOW?” Don’t tell me he’s gonna go at it again, you think. He really is just angry, like, limitlessly angry, isn’t he?

“Kacchan, you should keep your voice down. Shoto might—”

“YOU THINK I GIVE A FUCK IF THAT HALF N’ HALF BRAT HEARS ME—”

“I care, Kacchan,” Izuku sighs. He looks tired. Really tired.

You gently touch Bakugou on the arm. He looks at you with hostility, as if you’ve just committed an offence. “Bakugou, Izuku’s exhausted after everything that’s happened last night. Why don’t we give him some space so he can rest?”

The blond scoffs and shrugs you off, “Tch. As if. YOU.” He points at Izuku again as he stands up. “YOU BETTER FIGURE THIS SHIT OUT. I’M NOT LOSING MY NUMBER ONE RIVAL SO YOU BETTER GROW ANOTHER ARM OR SOMETHIN’!” He grabs you by the elbow, dragging you out of the room. You wave back at Izuku before sticking your thumb up and smiling, letting him know that it’s going to be okay and he can just rest. Izuku nods at this.

Bakugou doesn’t just take you out of the room, but continues to ‘guide’ you by the elbow, taking you down the hallway with him. You turn a corner and a café comes into view. “Um, Bakugou, where are we going?”

“Tch. Are you actually that dumb?” He drags you into the café and you just let him. You considered fighting back, at least just for your elbow, but it didn’t seem very promising given the ripples of muscles that are exaggerated by the bandages around his arms. He’s leading you to a table at the back where you see a head of half red and half white hair. OMG! IS THAT SHOTO?!

Of course, you were Izuku’s number one fan, but before meeting Izuku, you were actually a huge Shoto fan. Not that you didn’t like Izuku, but the half and half boy had caught your attention. You didn’t have a shrine dedicated to Shoto like Izuku has to All Might, but you would always stay up-to-date with his interviews, any new missions he’s on or news buzz he was involved in. He was quite popular back in your home country so it wasn’t too hard to find translations of media he was in. Actually, watching his interviews in Japanese had been revolutionary when you first started learning the language.

And now, you were about to meet him.

“Wait!!”You stopped suddenly, a few steps from the table, causing Bakugou to stumble-stop with you. “WHAT?!” He turned back to you, frowning hard. He’s gonna get some seriously deep wrinkles if he keeps making such expressions, you think. “I’m nervous, okay? Are we really going to go sit with Shoto?”

He barked out a laugh, “OF COURSE NOT. WOW, YOU REALLY ARE DUMB. I don’t know how Deku puts up with you.”

“Hey! That’s just mean,” you pout at him. He scoffs, “I’M ‘JUST MEAN’! GET OVER IT!” Bakugou’s face lowers down to yours just to yell at it. People were starting to stare. You could feel your cheeks beginning to flare up. “Bakugou,” you put your hand on the arm that was still holding onto your elbow, drawing another look of absolute offence and disgust from the blond. “People are staring.”

“Tch. OF COURSE THEY ARE. I’M DYNAMIGHT.”

“Uh, I don’t think that’s why—” He continues on, dragging you over to the table Shoto’s seated at. He shifts to make room on booth seat, seeing you two coming over. Bakugou throws you down onto the booth side of the table. You fall onto Shoto clumsily, repeating how sorry you are as you push up from him. He grasps your forearms, helping you sit upright, muttering, “It’s fine.”

Your [e/c] eyes meet his heterochromatic ones and for a moment, you forget to breathe. Wow… he’s so pretty. Those long lashes, clear skin, full lips. Even his scar is perfect. You notice the bandages wrapped around his head like a zumba headband. They loop through his dual-coloured locks. They look so soft from this angle. You giggle nervously once he draws his hands — one hot, the other icy — back to himself.

Your admiration of the hero is interrupted by the ear-scrapping sound of Bakugou pulling out the chair opposite and sitting in it unceremoniously. None of you speak for the next few minutes, and you notice that in this time, most of the onlookers return to what they’re doing.

“So…” You start, tapping your fingers on your clothed thighs.

“Deku told me you were ‘n engineer or somethin’. You’re gonna fix his arm, right?” Bakugou’s red eyes pierce through you with their intensity.

“What’s wrong with Izuku’s arm?” Shoto’s voice is so smooth. Honestly. It’s even nicer than in all of the interviews you’ve seen. You stutter on your inhale, hearing him speak. It’s low and fairly quiet, but confident at the same time.

“Tch. That bastard—”

“Oi,” you cut in, “that ‘bastard’ is my boyfriend. You better con—”

“Deku,” Bakugou glares at you, “got his arm ripped off.”

You sigh, turning slightly to Shoto. Oh my gosh! You’re heartbeat is pumping like you run up a flight of stairs. Are you about to talk to your favourite hero? Ahem, your second favourite hero. “Izu-chan didn’t ‘get his arm ripped off’. The surgeon amputated most of it as the damage was beyond his healing capabilities.”

“Oh.” Shoto looked down momentarily.

“Tch. What a baby. IF THAT WAS ME—”

“I KNOW BAKUGOU! Oh my god I know, we all know. You’re the fucking best hero ever. You would never let anything stop you or hurt you or whatever. We know, okay? Can you please give it a rest?” Your brows are knit together as you glare at him. He glares back. “Tch,” Bakugou leaned back in his seat, looking off to the side now, face in a scowl.

The table fell into silence again. You didn’t mean to go off at him, and now you must look really bad in front of Shoto. Fuck. You only had one chance and you blew it. You probably can’t even ask for his autograph anymore. Jeez, this is embarrassing. But you were feeling really stressed out by Bakugou and his attitude toward this whole thing. You’re pretty sure that if Izuku were here, that he would tell you that this is just how Bakugou is dealing with his emotions. But seriously like, does he ever shut the fu—

“You didn’t answer my question. Are you gonna fix ‘is arm or not?” Bakugou addresses you with less aggression this time. At least he’s trying. That’s really nice of him.

“Y-yea,” you mutter, looking down at your hands. It takes a few moments for you gather up some confidence, but when you do, you look back up at him, meeting his fiery gaze. “I’m going to build him a cybernetic arm which we’re going to surgically attach to his wound.”

“The fuck is ‘cyber… cyb… cyb’ fuck I DON’T KNOW. WHAT IS IT?”

“Cybernetic?” You raise your eyebrow at him, smirking slightly. “Yea, hurry up n’ spit it out already.” He’s glaring you down softly this time.

“Cybernetic is the same as bionic or prosthetic. Basically, I’m going to build him a robotic arm and replace what’s missing of his left arm with it.”

“So,” Shoto says, “Midoriya-kun will be part robot?”

You notice how perfect his posture is, how stoic the expression is on his face. Amazing… You nod, “That’s the plan. We don’t have much time, so I need to build and test it as soon as possible.”

“Then get the fuck out ‘ere. Seriously,” he’s leaning over the table now, “go build that shit.”

“Baku—”

“YOU HEARD ME! I’M NOT HAVING THIS—” Bakugou points vigorously to Shoto, “AS MY SOLE COMPETITION. YOU BETTER FIX HIM! ROBOT, NOT ROBOT, I DON’T CARE.” He’s standing at this point, palms on the table, leaning over mockingly to Shoto. “YOU AIN’T SHIT COMPARED TO ME ICYHOT!” Shoto turns to you, unfazed by Bakugou’s outburst. “Please excuse Bakugou’s behaviour. He’s upset over Midoriya-kun’s inju—”

“I’M NOT UPSET! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!” Bakugou’s hands begin to spark on the table, leaving scorch marks in their midst. He quickly wipes his palms on his hospital gown, muttering about how he’s going to have to pay for that.

You sigh, his words resonating with you. “You’re right. I need to get back to my place and start now. Thanks Bakugou.”

You stand up, ready to leave when Shoto catches you off guard. “We should at least get you a coffee then. I assume you’ll have a long night ahead of you?”

Oh my gosh! Is THE pro hero ‘Shoto’ offering to buy me, ME, a coffee? Oh my gosh! Yes! Yes sir!

You laugh nervously, trying to play it cool but you obviously fail, “O-oh, um, yea, okay, yea, that sounds good. Yea…” You meet his gaze. It’s soft. You might actually pass out from how excited you are right now.

“Tch. FINE. I’m not paying though.” Bakugou crosses his arms, shifting his weight onto one leg. Shoto dismisses the blond’s lack of enthusiasm with a wave of his hand. “I’ll pay.”

“Really?! Like, you-you’ll actually pay for my coffee?!” Fuck. That sounded so fangirl-y didn’t it? Shit. He’s gonna know. “Of course.” Shoto places his credit card on the circular table. Where did he get that from? “What would you like?”

You think for a moment. Maybe he brought his wallet. That makes sense. From what you’ve seen of Bakugou’s behaviour, he didn’t seem to be the type to pay for the date. Not this was a date. Concerning the coffee, you usually get a double shot oat milk cappuccino but you know that the answer that won’t make you seem like even more of a weirdo is probably an iced coffee.

“Um, I haven’t seen the menu.” A safe choice.

Shoto chuckles at this, shaking his head slightly. “Of course, sorry.” He rises from his spot on the booth and you notice that SOMEHOW he’s even taller than Bakugou. Oh… so is this why Bakugou’s so mad? Height is pretty sensitive subject for men, right? He’s also in a hospital gown with a few bandages wrapped around his arms at different sites. He motions for you to start walking and so you do. He follows you as you walk over to the counter.

You notice that they have oat milk and cappuccinos on the menu. What you don’t notice is that Bakugou ended up following you two over to the counter and was standing just behind you, off to your side, watching you intensely. His sudden “tch” alerts you to his presence.

“One large cappuccino with oat milk. And one egg salad sandwich. And a three of the ichigo daifuku. You want anythin’ else?” Bakugou looks down at you.

You lean up, whispering close to his ear, “Can you make it a double shot?”

“Make that a double shot for the cap. OI! ICYHOT, what do you want?”

Shoto’s heterochromatic eyes widen for a moment before he chuckles softly. “I’ll have an iced coffee. Medium please.” He looks back at the explosive blond who clicks his tongue. Bakugou rolls his eyes, telling the server, “Two iced coffees. Both Medium.”

Bakugou ends up paying for your order and shooing you and Shoto back to your seats while he waits for it to be ready. You laugh and Shoto smiles lightly, seeing your good mood. “What is it?” He asks, looking at you curiously. You giggle, “He’s such a softie, huh?” You playfully elbow Shoto’s side. His brows furrow slightly, revealing his confusion. “Bakugou?” You nod in agreement, still smiling stupidly. “He’s all—” you puff up your chest and curl your arms like a tough guy, “rawr I’m Dynamight I’m so tough when really, he’s quite caring, isn’t he?” Shoto nods slowly, “Sometimes.”

You two stay quiet for a minute or two before Shoto says, “Midoriya-kun talks a lot about you.” You look back at him like he just grew a second head. “Really?” I mean, it made sense. You two had been together for about three years now. Shoto nods, “He could talk about you for hours. He could barely contain himself during the mission.” You giggle, “You make it sound like he loves me as much as All Might.” At this, Shoto gives you a small smile. “Maybe he does.”

“Ahh don’t start putting ideas in my head or I won’t be able to concentrate.” You dramatically place the back of your hand on your forehead, sighing in feigned distress. “My apologies…” He regains this neutral-curious look on his face. “I hope you don’t mind but, he told me that you were a big fan of mine.”

Oh fuck. Okay, it’s not funny anymore. “He what?” You stare wide-eyed at Shoto. He meets your gaze with a slight smirk. “You knew? Like, this entire time, you knew?” He offers you another nod. You let out a sigh, seeing Bakugou returning with your coffee and food. “That’s so embarrassing.”

“Why?” Shoto tilts his head at this. You whine, “Because, I’ve made a fool of myself in front of you. Did he tell you that I’ve seen ALL of your interviews? Like, every single one? Even when you were still at UA?”

Bakugou places the coffee tray on the table before setting the sandwich and daifuku in front of you. He distributes drinks. You have to admit, yours looks so good! The foam is so fluffy, just the way you like it. “Thank you, Bakugouuuuuu.” You draw out the last syllable of his name. You take a sip, moaning softly at how yummy your coffee tasted. The two heroes just stare at you. One slightly embarrassed and the other pleased. “Yea, I know right. The barista here makes a mean as fuck coffee.”

“Mhmm, this is so good! They don’t disappoint.” Bakugou watches you as he sips on his own coffee, a shit eating grin on his face. Provider Bakugou unlocked?

You look down at the food in front of you, tearing the paper bag that the daifuku came in into three pieces. As you put one of the snacks on each piece, you say, “Yea, I’m like seriously a huge fan. I have a lot of your merch too. BUT, my number one hero is Izuku. You’re my number two hero.” You wink at Shoto as you slide the daifuku over to him.

Bakugou chokes on his sip. He starts coughing furiously. On instinct, you stand up and are about to go to his side and pat his back when he holds up his hand, “I cough I-I’m cough fine cough.” You sit back down, watching him ride out the wave that is his coughing fit. Seeing him coming to the end of it, you ask, “You okay?”

“LOOK AT ME! OF COURSE I’M FINE.” Shoto laughs, watching Bakugou trying to shake off the blush of embarrassment creeping into his cheeks. “Are you surprised that I’m her second favourite and your not?” Shoto provoking Bakugou? You never thought the day would come when you would see this holy sight.

“OI! DON’T START SOME SHIT YOU CAN’T FINISH YOU HALF AND HALF BASTARD!!” You start laughing hard as you slide Bakugou’s daifuku over to him. “OI! WHAT’S SO FUNNY?” You start laughing even harder, leaning back in your seat, arms wrapping around your belly. “Y-you are,” you laugh out. Your tummy begins to hurt, tears of joy gathering in your eyes. You watch through glassy eyes as Bakugou shoves the dessert whole in his mouth angrily.

“Oi. Shut it.” But it sounds more like “Shuf ip” as he speaks while chewing. You salute, giggling, “Yes sir.” At this, Bakugou rolls his eyes.

You have a moment of clarity. Or delusion, you decide. Actually, he’s quite handsome too. You couldn’t really see it before because of his rather… energetic personality. But, there’s something quite attractive about the sharpness of his features. You can see why so many of your friends like him so much.

“I’M WAY BETTER THAN THIS FUCKWIT—”

“Oi, there could be kids around—”

“I should be your second favourite instead.” Bakugou crosses his arms again, with one large hand enveloping at least half of his drink. You shake your head, giggling again, “Oh yea.” You meet his gaze. “Prove it.”

Shoto looks with wide eyes between you two. “PROVE WHAT?” Bakugou’s leaning forward and so do you. “Prove that you’re a way better hero than Shoto.” He barks out his laughter once again in your face, it’s sharp and short. “HAVE YOU SEEN MY TRACK RECORD? Tch. AS IF I HAVE TO PROVE ANYTHING TO YOU, PIPSQUEAK.” He rolls his eyes, leaning back and sipping his coffee down inhumanly fast. “You right? You’ll get a tummy ache if you drink it that fast.” You look down at his quickly emptying drink before looking back up into his red eyes. He stops sipping, only ice left, “SHUT UP.”

You decide now that you’ll stop riling him up. Dynamight is a pretty cool hero. And to be honest, you do wear his merch because Izuku owns a significant amount of it. Being a pro hero, Izuku usually got discounts or free merch from other heroes. Being his girlfriend, he usually got you any merch you wanted. You feel kinda bad for pissing Bakugou off after he’s been so nice to you. Well, as nice as Bakugou gets for a someone he’s just met (the first time doesn’t really count as it was so brief).

“I’m sorry for suggesting that you’re not a cool hero, Dynamight. You are a cool hero and I’ll tell Izuku how nice you’ve been to me.” You smile at him. But this seems to have the opposite intended effect of soothing the tension.

“SHUT UP YOU DUMMY!” He looks away from you, getting up abruptly to throw his cup in the bin. He takes the torn pieces of the paper bag with him as you pop the daifuku into your mouth. Mhmmm, it’s so yummy too! The fresh strawberry is so sweet!

“He’s flattered,” Shoto chimes in. You look at him confused. “Are you sure?” He nods before asking, “Do you really own my merch? That must make Midoriya-kun uncomfortable.”

“Hmm,” you think about it for a few seconds, hearing Bakugou scrape his chair against the floor again. “Not really, I mean, have you seen how much All Might merch he owns?” You raise your brows in exaggeration. Giggling, you add, “I should be uncomfortable.” Shoto just looks at you, wating for you to continue while Bakugou begins picking at the chips of the table.

“We actually talked about it when we started dating. Izu-chan knows that I’m your fan. I’m not like in love with you or something, you know? I like what you stand for, I think you’re pretty attractive, and I admire how hard you work in your career. I do wear your merch a lot though. That makes Izu-chan jealous sometimes.” You ramble on mindlessly. Shoto looks down, “O-oh.”

It’s true. You couldn’t fathom the idea of being in love with a man you’ve never met, like you know some girls are with the respective objects of their affection. I say object because what they’re in love with is a commodity, an image, not a person. That would be super awkward if you were infatuated with Shoto. Especially since Izuku and Shoto work together sometimes.

“Stop talking and eat your sandwich.” Bakugou points to the untouched egg salad sandwich on the table. He’s right, if you’re gonna be up all night building a cybernetic arm, you had better eat up.

“Thanks Bakugou!” He rolls his eyes. “Don’t thank me, just hurry up and eat before I make you.” His voice was gruff as he stared hard at you. You giggle one last time before unwrapping the sandwich and taking a bite.

This place has seriously good food.

[writing-till-i-am-dead]

CAN YOU PLEASE WRITE A BANNER SIBLINGS STORY (LOGAN AND ASHLYN) PLEAAAAASSEEE

Logan and Ashlyn - You’ve Always Got Us

A non-romantic oneshot

Logan was used to being home alone. There wasn’t a big deal about it. His grandparents own a business after all. Besides, back in the day, when they still had those jobs, he was home alone a lot more often than just every few days in a month.

And, in some ways, learning to take care of himself for so long gave him some seriously good benefits. Now he knows how to cook and clean and make sure that the house is secured.

There’s nothing to it. It’s just how things are. Does he wish he has someone to keep him company? Well, ya, a sibling or something of the sort is a nice idea, but he doesn’t want any other kids to get dragged into the Fields family drama.

But, today was definitely not too great. All the food that they have is expired, so he has nothing to eat. He would drive to the store, but he doesn’t have a license.

So, in short, he’s screwed. No lunch, no dinner, no breakfast… and that continues until how many more days his grandparents will be gone.

He already felt himself begin to panic. Ya, he could ask one of his friends to help. Tyler knows how to cook, Taylor is always ready to help, Aiden can’t stay out of other people’s business, Ben is a sweetheart, and Ashlyn feels responsible to take care of the others in the group. But Logan can’t bear to be a burden. He’s already been enough of an inconvenience for them.

He can go a few days without eating. Rationing. He did it a lot back in the day. It’s never fun, but he can do it.

He decides to go to the couch to watch some tv, to try and distract himself. He crosses his arms and hunches up his legs, turning his brain off for a while. Easier said than done.

He glances at his phone every now and then, tempted to text his friends, tell them about his situation. But he stopped himself. But then he immediately jumped to his phone when it buzzed.

It was a text from Ashlyn to the group.

>Ashlyn: Hey, guys. My parents said that since it’s Fall Break, y’all can come over for dinner.

>Aiden: Awww!!! Ashlyn, you’re inviting us over?!?!!?!

>Ashlyn: It wasn’t my idea.

>Taylor: I wish I could, but me and Tyler have to take our mom to the doctor today

>Ben: My sister is spending the night, I was hoping to hang out with her. I’m sorry :(

>Aiden: Ash. You know I would go if I could. But…

>Aiden: I ALSO WANTED TO HANG OUT WITH MY COUSIN 💔💔

>Ashlyn: Geez

>Ashlyn: What about you, Logan?

Logan was startled and hesitated. This was a perfect opening. But no one else was going. Would he be intruding?

>Logan: Well, I am free this evening, but I understand if you don’t want me over since no one else is 😊

>Ashlyn: I really don’t care. You can come over if you want.

He thinks about his response before slowly typing back a response.

>Logan: Ya, I can come over. But I’ll need a ride.

>Ashlyn: 👍

He fidgeted a bit, nervous. Was he being a bother? He should’ve just made an excuse. Oh, but the promise of dinner was enticing. He hated that he didn’t regret agreeing to go. He should. It’s just embarrassing. He’s being such a bother.

He gets up and puts his shoes on and waits by the front door for Ashlyn and her parents to get here to pick him up.

His phone buzzes and it was a message from Ashlyn saying she was here. He steps out and sees the Banner’s car on the driveway. He steps in and sits down.

“Hi, Mr. Banner.”

“Hey kid. Ashlyn, say hi to your friend.”

“Hi, Logan.”

Logan awkwardly laughs. “Hi, Ashlyn. Thank you for inviting me.”

“It’s no problem!” says Mr. Banner. “I’m just happy that Ashlyn actually invited her friends.”

“Dad.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

Logan laughs and awkwardly tugs his seatbelt. He shouldn't have agreed to come. This is so embarrassing and awkward. He can't think of any small talk.

"So, Logan," Mr. Banner says. "How's your grandparents?"

Logan felt a rush of relief. Thank the universe for Mr. Banner making small talk.

"They're doing fine. They're currently on a business trip."

"Oh? So you're home alone?"

"Yes sir."

"Well, that's perfect timing for you to join us for dinner!"

"Haha.. ya."

"We're making black-eyed pea soup! It's Mrs. Banner's specialty."

Logan nods. He's happy with that. That's definitely a comfort meal, and he needed comfort right now because he felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. Why. Is he. So. Damn. Anxious. ALL OF THE TIME!?

They pull into Ashlyn's house, the bus graveyard in the distance. It's always weird seeing it when they're not in the phantom world, despite the fact that they hang out there all the time.

They go inside and the house smells really good.

"Oh! You got him?" Mrs. Banner asks, walking out of the kitchen to greet them. "Heya, Logan. Thanks for joining us!"

"No problem, Mrs. Banner.."

"Why don't you 2 set the table?"

Ashlyn and him look at each other and she shrugs. "Ok."

They walk to the kitchen to get some silverware. "Your family is really nice."

Ashlyn raises an eyebrow. "Ya, well.. They like that I have friends now. So I think they're abusing it a little for get togethers like these."

"You consider us to be friends."

"Oh. Are we not?"

"No, no, no! That's not it! I just.. I thought maybe you just tolerated us.. me. Since we're all kind of.. forced to hang out... But.. you really consider us to be friends?"

Now it was Ashlyn's turn to be shy. "Um.. sure, I guess. Friends is a simpler term to describe what all of us are."

They pause. "Yknow.." Ashlyn says. "There's still some time until dinner is ready. Wanna go to my room to listen to music."

This catches Logan's attention. "Um.. sure."

They go up the stairs and to Ashlyn's room. "What kind of music do you listen to?" she asks.

"Oh.. I really like Beach Bunny.. You?"

"Ray LaMontagne," she responds. "I've never heard Beach Bunny."

He smiles a little. "Well, I've never heard Ray LaMontagne."

She pauses. "Song trade?"

He nods. "Ya, sure!"

They sit down on the floor and Ashlyn pulls out a Bluetooth speaker. Logan plays Nice Guys, and Ashlyn plays You Are The Best Thing.

“That’s exactly the kind of music that I imagine you would listen to,” Logan says with a soft chuckle.

“Oh?”

“Ya. He has a really soft voice, so not too overwhelming. I get it. Though the lyrics were surprisingly upbeat,” he jokes a little.

She smiles ever so slightly, but hides it by resting her chin on her knee. “Well, I wasn’t expecting yours.”

“Oh?”

“Ya. The song just.. I don’t know how to explain it. I always thought you’d be more of a David Bowie fan.”

Logan smiles brightly. “I love David Bowie!”

“So I was right.”

They let the music continue playing on and they both leaned back. “This is a lot less awkward than I was worried it would be,” Logan says.

“Tell me about it.”

“Nice to know I wasn’t the only one nervous..”

There was an air of understanding and solidarity between the two of them. It was nice, having someone who understands what it’s like, getting overwhelmed easily. He never thought it would be Ash, though. She’s always seemed… untouchable and far. Someone who’d never want anyone close, especially a whiny loser like himself.

“Kids! Dinner’s ready!”

The two head back downstairs and sit at the table. The soup smelled amazing and looked amazing. “Thank you so much,” he says.

“No problem, kiddo!” Mrs. Banner says, sitting at the table.

Ashlyn already started eating, but Logan waited until everyone was seated until he started eating. That’s what his grandparents taught him to do.

Once everyone got to the table, he waited until Ashlyn's parents started to eat, and then he dug in himself, napkin in his lap.

"So, Logan," Mr. Banner says. "How long until your grandparents get home?"

"Oh, I'm actually not sure. These business days can go on for a while.. Especially when the weather gets colder, since the flowers are all slowly going away."

He nods, but looks a bit concerned. "So they just left you with no idea how long? When you have no license..?"

"Oh, well, it's fine. I can take care of myself, yknow."

Mrs. Banner and Mr. Banner look at each other, a bit unsure, but don't push it. "Well, how about you spend the night?"

Both Logan and Ashlyn were startled by the offer.

"No, no, no, you really don't have to! I don't want to intrude-"

"Nonsense, we'd be happy to!" Mrs. Banner says. "Only if you want to, though. No pressure."

"I-I-I.." Ya, he's been at sleepovers, but with the rest of the group. What if Ashlyn finds it annoying that it's just him?

"It's fine," Ashlyn says to him. The two look at one another, as if they were both trying to read each other's minds.

"O...k..." he says slowly. "Thank you for.. having me..."

Mr. Banner nods. "I'll let you borrow some of my clothes, kiddo. I've got a lot of old ones I've been meaning to donate. But I'm happy to lend you some for tonight."

"Thank you.. thank you so much. This is really nice of you guys."

Mr. and Mrs. Banner clutch their hearts at Logan's sweetness. "No problem. Anything for Ashlyn's friends!"

"Let's go to my room," Ashlyn says. They begin to go back upstairs, Ashlyn already taking her earbuds out.

"Are you sure you'll be ok without those?"

"You're not like Tyler or Aiden. I'll be fine."

He smiles a little at that.

"I'll set up a cot for you." Right as she was about to go and get the stuff, he stops her.

"Thank you, Ash. Really."

"Hey, man.. it's.. fine. I can't really imagine being completely alone. My parents are.. yknow.."

"Ya.."

She nods and heads off. The Banner family is so nice. He's never felt so welcomed anywhere. Not even in his own home, where his grandparents are probably annoyed with him about something, even just a little. He doesn't doubt their love at all, it's just.. it doesn't feel like this.

A family where they all chat and tease and have fun.

She returns with blankets and a blow up air mattress. She plugs it in and turns it on after putting her earbuds back in.

"Hey, Ash?"

"Hm?"

"After this.. do you want to do another song trade..?"

She smiles. "Only if you watch ballet YouTube videos with me."

This surprises Logan. "Video trades, too? Well then. Only if I can show you mythology based videos."

She nods. "Deal."

He nods back. "Thanks, Ash."