#like last week or the week before it was a left at london song.... I had trouble remembering which one hang on

[polarfarina]

I have been afflicted by specific songs playing on literal constant repeat for days at a time before changing to a new one. I'm talking I go to sleep hearing this in my head, I wake up singing the words, I slice the cheese to the beat at work. Right now its Turn the Fridge On by Donor Lens

[grillthegridmydear]

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 　Love You Like A Love Song - Part One :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

F1 Grid X Reader

The grid reacts to a love song you wrote about them.

Part Two

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Max Verstappen

✧Wildest Dreams - Taylor Swift

Max was almost always found on the race track, if not in real life then in the simulator with team redline or just solo streaming. It was his comfort zone, what he knew best. Stepping out of that comfort usually had Max counting down the seconds until it was over and he could go back home to you and the cats, but today was different seeing as he had followed you to the studio on this particular winter morning. You were so secretive on the jet ride to London, furiously scribbling in your leather notebook that was falling apart from being under constant strain of ripped out pages, daily use and the odd time that Sassy got her claws on it when it was left out in odd spaces in their home.

"Tell me again why I had to be here today if I am not allowed to hear the new songs yet?" he mumbled with a cheeky grin as he followed you through the door out of the cold and rainy weather, the recording studio was warm at least. Elliot, your producer, got there before them and had boosted the heat in the building to knock the chill out of your bones before what promised to be a long day in front of the mic. "Because we only have one more song to record Maxie, and I want to know what you think of it." You never really meant to be secretive about your music but the nerves of releasing this particular album were leagues higher than in the past since it was your first studio album since you and Max had started dating a year ago.

You met on night two of the European leg of your last tour, Victoria was a big fan of your music and had dragged Tom and Max to your Amsterdam show. His only exposure to you prior to that night had been through the walls of his sisters home when he came to see his nephews but seeing you on stage that night was the nail in the coffin on his single life. Being the world famous racing driver that he was gave him the chance to meet you after the show and the rest was history.

Which led him to where he was today, sitting on the ridiculously comfortable couch behind the production table watching you working on the final piece of the puzzle that would make up your newest record.

"Alright, lets get playback and do a first run through." Elliot prompted you through the microphone that fed his voice through the soundproof booth into your headset. One nod of acknowledgement from you and the playback started, Max could hear the live feed through the speakers for the first time and the drum beat caused him to sit forward with his full attention.

The last thing he was expecting was the lyrics that came out through those speakers,

He's so tall and handsome as hell

He's so bad, but he does it so well

You had always joked about him being your muse since the week you started dating, when you would be on dates and he would see you stop dead in your tracks to pull out that notebook.

Say you'll remember me

Standing in a nice dress

Staring at the sunset, babe

Red lips and rosy cheeks

Say you'll see me again

Even if it's just in your wildest dreams, ah-ah, ha

He felt the flush in his cheeks and the grin rise on his cheeks before he even had the chance to fully process what was happening. The song you were most excited to show him that you couldn't even wait until the album was finished, it was about him.

After the initial recording session Elliot busied himself with the hundreds of buttons, sliders and dials on the panel in front of him, you crouched to get your water bottle, ready to go again if needed but Max, he couldn't take his eyes off of you even if he tried. When the ok was given from Elliot you crept out from behind the door of the booth with a shy smile on your face as you made your way to stand in front of him, awaiting the reaction of the love of your life.

"so what do you think?"

Max could barely get the words out between the kisses he was peppering all over your face and neck.

"Vic is going to be so jealous I got a song."

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✧Lando Norris

✧Nonsense - Sabrina Carpenter

Your Vegas show was strategically planned to fall the day before Lando had to be stuck in the paddock all weekend for the first Las Vegas Grand Prix, which led to many of the drivers and their girlfriends to fill up the VIP section of the theatre that housed hundred of excited fans waiting excitedly to see you take the stage.

You and Lando had known each other for years, being in the same year in school up until your GCSE's when he had left to focus on racing and you had moved from England to the states to pursue your music career. You were childhood sweethearts that stood the test of time and the long distance to end up where you are today, both living in Monaco during the off season with you accompanying Lando to each and every race in the last year, spending all your spare time in one of two places, the studio or cuddled up in Lando's arms in the privacy of your apartment. But with your first full studio album skyrocketing you through the charts a world tour soon followed and it had been a few weeks since your schedules had synced up enough to allow you both some real time to spend together. Lando had never been so thankful to have the racing season coming to a close in a few weeks, and with your last 5 shows coming in the following days to wrap up the tour he was ecstatic to have you all to himself for winter break.

His conversation with Oscar and Lily was cut short when the familiar piano notes of 'Emails I Can't Send' ring out through the venue and the screams and cheers of everyone in the room make a dumb grin break out on his face. Your figure appearing on the stage in your iconic tour outfit that Lando was obsessed with, but what made his smile bigger was the slight changes in the style of the outfit that graced your body on the stage, your dress that was usually a hot pink or lavender colour was changed to the oh so familiar papaya colour he knew as his team colours and your white boots had the number 4 emblazoned on them in his iconic neon yellow branding on the chunky heel stem.

The night was electric as he watched you up there, giving the crowd what he would say is the night of their lives as song after hit song was performed with your infectious talent and energy.

Right as the final notes of 'Sue Me' rang out to the crowd he expected the show to end as he knew the set list by heart from being to a few shows at the beginning of the tour, but you weren't leaving the stage and as you started speaking to the crowd his fixed gaze that had been watching you the whole night was broken as he heard the hushed conversation of some of the WAGs that were surrounding him, he barely had time to notice that Alexandra, Lily and Rebecca were looking at him with shit eating grins on their faces and Carlos was recording him on his phone before you stole his attention again.

"So guys, my boyfriend is actually in the crowd tonight." was all you managed to say before the fans cheered, hundreds of faces looking right at him as you let out that beautiful laugh he loves so much before continuing. "Lando is racing in Vegas this weekend and I've been on tour so I haven't been able to see him in like, forever. But the cool thing about that is he hasn't been able to hear this next song, same as you guys."

An unfamiliar melody started to loop through the venue as the cheers of fans kicked up once again. Pure confusion spread across his face as you continued to introduce the new song. "So this is my new single on the deluxe edition of the album and I hope you all enjoy it."

The room was electric as you began to sing, and Lando very quickly realised the reason why everyone of the drivers and their partners surrounding him had the same reaction, because Lando was not expecting to have a song about him drop that very night, but god was he glad it was.

I'll be honest

Lookin' at you got me thinkin' nonsense

Cartwheels in my stomach when you walk in

And when you got your arms around me

Ooh, it feels so good I had to jump the octave

His face felt like it was on fire but his ego was growing by the second.

I'm talkin' all around clock

I'm talkin' hope nobody knocks

I'm talkin' opposite of soft

I'm talkin' wild, wild thoughts

You gotta keep up with me

I got some young energy

I caught the L-O-V-E

How do you do this to me?

The song began to end and the last lines of the outro had Lando impossibly excited for the night to end so he finally got to have you to himself again.

he loves me so good its downright heinous

this songs P1 in my boyfriends playlist

what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas

Oh yeah, he was definitely glad he got you all to himself.

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Oscar Piastri

✧Human - Dodie

University had been consuming what felt like your entire existence, barely having enough time or energy to apply to anything that didn't involve coursework, especially since you had your contemporary song writing final project due in a few days. Life had consisted of spending days locked away in your dorm room in front of your travel keyboard trying to construct a melody that felt lightyears away from you.

"You can't keep rotting away in there you know, I don't think we will get our deposit back if you melt into the carpet."

Hattie had been your best friend from the day you started preschool, your entire lives had been spend joined at the hip, you were unable to be separated in your younger years, down to the first days of school every year which were spent in the Piastri home's kitchen eating a breakfast that Nicole had made while you and Hattie chattered so loud that the whole house was brought to life with your laughter. Your tight bond had extended to today, where you both sat in the shared kitchen of your university housing, cups of tea decorating the table along with a pair of laptops and more sheet music blank than filled.

This had easily become the hardest assignment of your degree for you, where Hattie seemingly had no issue and was just finishing the arrangements of her own work before she got to submit her assignment and go home for summer break, you on the other hand felt like smacking your head against the wall, your fractured concentration being split even further by the commentary coming from your phone that was propped up in front of 6 crumpled pieces of composition paper, the Spanish Grand Prix well underway on the other side of the world, where Hattie's brother (who just so happened to be your boyfriend) was in the final laps of his race weekend.

"I know, I cant for the life of me figure out what's wrong. Nothing I've written feels good enough and I really don't want to fail this assignment. The last thing I need is to be back here in three months to repeat this class."

The voices that seeped from your phone announced that with that final lap the race was over and glancing at the chart that took up the left side of the screen a smile broke out on your face. Hattie let her curiosity get the better of her as she rounded the table to watch over your shoulder. "P2, He will be happy with that."

Your whole body itched for a change of scenery after a further 30 minutes with no progress so while Hattie started on dinner for you both you slipped on a jacket and stuffed your notebook into your pocket, heading outside for some fresh air. The weather had cooled only slightly compared to the usual stifling Australian heat which allowed you to sit under the awning of the bike sheds outside the building. Your phone rings not 2 minutes after you settle into a comfortable position, a the familiar contact flashing on the screen as you swipe to answer.

"Congratulations on your podium, Osc." Your words rang out through the empty courtyard as familiar breathing was heard in your ear, the boy you had loved since your childhood clearly having settled in his drivers room after his race. "Thank you, how is your assignment going? Still giving you trouble?" Your audible groan at the mention of the demonic workload hanging over your week was met with warm laughter on the other end of the phone. "That bad huh?"

"I don't know why but I haven't been able to focus enough to even get a melody going, everything I've tried sounds like it was written by The Wiggles." The snort of laughter that rang through her ears eased the stress that held her body hostage by the second and her own laughter broke out to match. "Hey, everyone loves The Wiggles, I think you would make a very cute Wiggle personally."

Oscar's words had her breaking up laughing this time. "Yeah, you would say that." Her voice taunted him over the line, memories flooding her mind of the ridiculous stories that Nicole had told her when she and Oscar had first gotten together when he came back after graduating from his British boarding school, about Oscar being five years old and in love with the Yellow Wiggle at that stage in his life. "I know you can make something amazing, everything you write is so incredible but you need to be kinder to yourself love, you're only human after all."

Oscar's advice rang through her mind as she ended the call with him, his presence being required to go to his post race debrief before he could go to the airport to fly back home to start the summer break with her. Before she could blink the floodgates in her mind finally let loose the creativity that she had been craving since she began the writing process a week ago. Sprinting up the stairs she had just enough time to grab the bowl of spaghetti Hattie had prepared her with a rushed thank you thrown over her shoulder.

An hour and a half later she finally submitted the dreaded assignment and packed her microphone away with the rest of her minimal recording equipment, quickly attaching the audio file to a text and sending it to Oscar before the night caught up with her and she drifted off to sleep in the navy blue OP81 hoodie that she wore to death.

The next morning was hectic, full of packing and cleaning as both girls got ready to pack up Hattie's car and get on the road, with the semester finally over and the promise of a few weeks on the road with Oscar melting the last of her stress. In the chaos of the morning she didn't get to check her messages until noon, where she was met with two texts, one from Logan and one from Oscar.

Oscars message was opened first, a quick 'I knew you could do it <3' sent in the middle of the night, considering the time difference it must have been when he was getting on his flight. The message from Logan showed a video of Oscar sitting on the plane, her voice playing through the speakers of Oscars phone as he stared at it with pure adoration in his eyes.

I want to give you your grin So tell me you can't bear a room that I'm not in Paint me in trust I'll be your best friend Call me the one This night just can't end Oh Oh, I'm so human We're just human

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George Russell

✧Bewitched - Laufey

"Remind me why I'm doing this again, this feels like something that I shouldn't be allowed to do."

The ball of stress that stood in front of George pacing in a midnight blue evening gown would have been the funniest thing in the world to him if he was looking at anyone in the world other than you, his beautiful girlfriend who looked about 3 seconds away from passing out. This seemed like an appropriate time as any for you to suddenly develop stage fright, because you were used to busking on the streets of London with your guitar in your teenage years, eventually moving up to small, intimate gigs in your early 20s to crowds that seemed smaller than a classroom, this was in a whole different ballpark. George met you when you both attended a charity event three years before that was funding for sick children across the UK, part of what drew him to you was your unwavering confidence that you walked through life with, he supposed that musicians had to be born with a certain level of audacity but you were unlike anyone he had ever met before, which is why your anxious behaviour was such a shock to the system.

It eventually became too much for George to take as he stood from his seat in the dressing room and held you firm by the hips, halting you from burning a permanent line in the ridiculously expensive carpet that lined the floors. That seemed to do the trick as you finally managed to take a deep enough breath to ease the tension in your body long enough to look him in the eyes. "What if it's shit Georgie?"

Your statement pulled a chuckle from him before he he could think to stop it. "Impossible love, you've never been shit at anything you've ever done." His reassurance sent a visible comfort through your body as the rest of your muscles relaxed. "Except for padel, you are brutal at padel." George took the laugh that lit up the room as a good sign, god he loved your laugh, he once described it as reminding him of sleigh bells at Christmas which got a good laugh out of Lando and Alex, they still hadn't let him live it down, not that he minded much.

The knock at the door sent your body rigid once more as the stage hand that had been sent for you poked his head around the door to give you a 5 minute warning until you took to the stage. It was unlike anything you had ever done before, George supposed that being invited to perform at one of the most prestigious concert halls in the UK was daunting to begin with, but being asked to perform at their anniversary celebration that was being attended by what seemed like every important person they could think of, royalty included, well George was impressed that this was the extent of your nerves. A big deal indeed.

"You'll be watching me the whole time?"

Your request was endearing if unnecessary, because there were very few moments in his life now that George was not totally enraptured by you, he had been the muse of many memes in his time but his favourite had to be all the times that journalists and fans alike had compiled evidence of the many times that George was probably supposed to be paying attention to something, a meeting, a conversation, but his eyes never left you. "I'll be in the wings the entire time my love, now go, break a leg."

Heavy velvet curtains hid him from sight as the lights faded on to reveal you, centre stage and framed by a beautiful orchestra. The polite applause was so different from the screams of fans that he was used to hearing on a race weekend, but it set the tone as the orchestra began to play, now George was familiar with pretty much every song you had ever written due to how often your voice could be heard through your shared home, but this song was completely new, you had kept it under lock and key deeming it a surprise. As your voice joined the strings and woodwinds he began to realise that this was a wonderful surprise indeed.

You bewitch me Every damn second you're with me I try to think straight But I'm falling so badly, I'm coming apart You wrote me a note, cast a spell on my heart And bewitched me Bewitch You bewitched me

As the audience broke out into thunderous applause and you took your bow, George took a moment to pat the small square box in the pocket of his suit jacket, the box that held the promise of forever.

Bewitched was the only word word to describe him.

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Logan Sargeant

✧Pancakes for Dinner - Lizzy Mc Alpine

In the last few years Logan had been away from his family and friends during the Fourth of July weekend. It was never easy, he spent most of his childhood surrounded by all the people he loved most, with barbecue food and football on the beach filling up the day, the celebrations starting early in the morning and ending with the insane firework display at night. They were some of his favourite memories, the ones that comforted him on the days and nights when his career started to feel like a noose around his neck that tightened with every race weekend that didn't go according to plan.

Which is why he was so happy that this year, the race calendar perfectly bordered his beloved holiday, with Austria ending mere hours before he found himself on a flight back to Florida to celebrate on his week off before Silverstone. Seeing his family was a welcome reprieve from his hectic life, but seeing you was the cherry on top of a perfect week.

The firepit that roared at the beginning of the night had died down to a comforting glow, the beach behind his family home now empty apart from you and him, the rest of the guests gone inside to continue the festivities in the house. "It's good to have you back Lo, I miss you a lot when you're off living the dream" your voice carries across the space between you as you messed with the guitar that sat on your lap, beer forgotten at your feet as you strummed random chords. You had always been his best friend ever since you both met at a karting track as kids, he used to race with your brother before he decided that baseball was his calling, but you and Logan were attached at the hip until he left to move to England to take his career to another level. Now your friendship consisted of facetime calls, battling with time zone differences instead of a 10 minute walk to your house. "You should agree to come to more races then, you know you're invited to basically every one right?"

In reality he knew that globetrotting with him to a new country every fortnight wasn't that simple. You were a veterinary nurse in Florida and he was a racing driver, both of your schedules too hectic to allow for any real time spent together that didn't involve him making the trip back to his hometown. "You really want to put me and your boss on the same continent, I'm too pretty to go to jail!"

The two of you busted up into laughter at the idea of James Vowels being unfortunate enough to be close enough to you that you could finally give the man a piece of your mind. "I do miss Lily though, so might have to take some time off for Austin this year." The fake offended noise that left his lips made you laugh hard enough that Logan was sure his neighbours could hear you. He was sure that the only bond that could rival the one you shared with him was the one that you held with his teammates girlfriend, the fact that you had spent more time at the golf course with Lily this year than you had seeing him face to face sparked emotions in him that he wasn't quite ready to acknowledge.

"What are you playing there?"

The sly smile that crept up onto your face, illuminated by the firelight made his heart stutter, your answer didn't betray your emotions as you started strumming the melody more clearly.

"I wrote you something."

Logan swore his pulse started up in double time as you met his eyes. You had played guitar since you were eight years old but your own songs had been secret for as long as he can remember. But something in the moment caused you to let him into a part of your life he was sure he would never see.

"Play it for me."

The world around them was muffled and felt a million miles away as you nodded before training your eyes on the black ocean in front of you both. Lyrics flowing from you before you changed your mind.

I wanna eat pancakes for dinner I wanna get stuck in your head I wanna watch a T.V. show together And when we're under the weather we can watch it in bed I wanna go out on the weekends I wanna dress up just to get undressed I think that I should probably tell you this In case there is an accident And I never see you again So please save all your questions for the end And maybe I'll be brave enough by then

Laughter from the house behind you both broke the electric energy that filled the air.

"So? What do you think?"

Logan could only hope his kiss was worth a thousand words.

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Alex Albon

✧Juno - Sabrina Carpenter

There wasn't a person alive that believed the joke that Alexander Albon was the biggest WAG in the world than the man himself. While he spent his days driving his Williams car in the midfield of the F1 grid he was more than aware that you kissed him good morning every day you spent together, only to go and play a sold out concert to a stadium of adoring fans, of which Alex was your biggest.

He still found himself pinching his arm whenever he saw you, either on stage playing the global superstar or in the comfort of your own home playing with your puppy Juniper. It seemed uncharacteristic of him when he slid into your DM's one night after seeing a concert with his sisters, but fate apparently had his cards picked out in his favour when you visited a race a few weeks later as a guest of Red Bull and he got to meet you in person, the rest was history as you had been dating the Thai driver ever since.

The distance wasn't always easy but this particular summer break lined up perfectly with the end of the US leg of your most recent tour, which is how you both ended up spending your three week break in Bali, completely wrapped up in each other with no work interruptions.

Until today that is.

His place in your shared bed gave him the perfect view of you pacing the balcony of the villa that had been rented for the duration of your stay. His eyes easily following your body as it appeared in the doorway before disappearing just as quick, back and forth as you spoke to your management team on the phone, a call which was hitting the forty minute mark, causing his patience to wear thin. Luckily just before the call was about to hit an hour in length you ended it and your figure bounding back into the room caused him to sit up against the headboard. You grabbed your laptop from your bag before sliding back into bed, lips meeting his before you settled in and began furiously searching through the files on your desktop.

"what part of vacation do they not understand?" he groaned, his face finding the crook of your neck as you let out a laugh, nudging his side.

"That was Marcus, Short and Sweet drops in an hour."

Alex could feel the excitement vibrating through your body. Your most recent album had been in the works for months and while he usually got to live through the entire process with late night writing sessions and studio visits between races, you had been oddly secretive when it came to this one. He was excited for you, he loved your voice and your music was what had brought you together so seeing you continue to make the music that made you so happy made the challenges that came with your relationship worth it.

A soft "aha" pulled him out of his daydream as you pulled up the folder that contained the songs. He sat up again, ready for the full listening party that he was so used to at this point. Which is why his proud grin turned a tad confused as you dragged the cursor down to the third to last track on the album, his question died on his tongue as you pressed play on the file titled Juno (A.A<3) and the music started to pour through the speakers of your laptop.

Oh, I know you want my touch for life If you love me right, then who knows? I might let you make me Juno You know I just might (Might) Let you lock me down tonight One of me is cute, but two though? Give it to me, baby You make me wanna make you fall in love

His ears burned as the song ended and by the look on your face he was reacting exactly how you wanted.

"So? What do you think?"

Your laptop tumbled onto a stray cushion that found its way onto the floor, as he tackled you back onto the sheets. laughter filling the room.

Thank god for the end of the tour.

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Part two will be up asap. Requests are open.

Hope you enjoyed!

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[harryistheonlyoneforme]

More CEORRY smut pls! He’s so HAWT🥵🥵

Got Me Right Where You Want Me*

warnings: smut, swearing, daddy kink, unprotected sex, breeding, exhibitionism

summary: YN and Harry spend a day on the golf course together, but she won’t make it easy for him

pairing: ceo harry x reader

wc: 5.4k

masterlist | harry styles masterlist | requests open

a/n: i’ve decided i’m gonna try and post a oneshot every friday (key word is TRY😭) and i’ll probably do blurbs in between

~

Fresh out of the shower with wet hair and a towel around his waist, Harry steps into his and YN’s shared bedroom, humming the tune of the song he’d been listening to. His eyes instantly travel to his wife, who is freshly showered as well, still sitting in the exact same spot she was in when he went to shower. He rolls his eyes fondly as he watched her scroll through her emails with just a towel around her, the cutest look of concentration adorning her face.

Making his way to her, he sits down next to her, and she looks up at him with a soft smile. Returning her smile, he leans forward and presses his lips to hers sweetly. She melts into him and frowns when they pull away, making him chuckle at her.

“Do you want to come with me to the course today?” he questions, standing from the bed and heading to the closet. YN is slightly confused, as he’s never asked her to accompany him before.

“I mean, of course, but what’s the occasion?“ she asks, standing up as well and heading to her side of the closet. Her eyes skim over her clothes as she awaits his answer, a sigh leaving her when she realizes she’d left her white tennis skirt at their London home the last time they visited.

“Just miss you,” he responds, sitting down on his ottoman to pull his shirt over his head. “Been busy all week and we haven’t really had any time together,” he finishes timidly, making YN laugh quietly at him.

Walking over to him, she leans over him and places her hands on his chest. “We’ve been together for ten years and you’re still afraid to admit you love me?” she questions. “I’m starting to think you’re ashamed of me or something,” she teases, heading back to her space to find an outfit.

Harry tuts at her, a frown tugging at his lips. “Oh, shut the fuck up. You know m’not ashamed of you. Never have been, never could be,” he retorts, pulling his pants up before sliding his feet into his shoes.

She laughs heartily at her husband, sitting down to start moisturizing her skin. “Yeah, I bet you can’t be. Especially not when you cried like a baby at our wedding in front of all your tough guy friends,” she teases, making him scoff in mock offence.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” he laughs, pushing her shoulder playfully before standing up to loop his belt into his pants. “I still think you’re the one who leaked those pictures,” he mutters, making her double over in laughter at the memory behind the accusation.

He makes his way from the closet with a dimpled grin on his face, headed to the garage to get his clubs. “I’m ready whenever you are, gonna be in the Range Rover,” he calls, and she nods in agreement although he can’t see her.

Standing back up, she skims her closet once more, dragging her finger along each item of clothing as she tries to decide what to wear. She knows it’s nearly 100°F in LA, so she needs something that’ll keep her cool.

Her eyes land on a purple, thin, tennis dress, and her face lights up as it’s absolutely perfect. It matches Harry’s shirt almost perfectly, and it’s thin enough to keep her cool out in the summer heat.

Taking it off the hanger, she smiles as she notices just how short it is, and knowing that it will be even shorter once it’s on her body. She slides on a decides against a bra, knowing it’ll be uncomfortable in the material and she can use it to her advantage anyways.

She immediately slips the dress over her head before deciding on some plain white sneakers and putting on some jewelry and perfume before heading out of the closet and down to the car where Harry is waiting for her.

In no rush at all, she takes her time and makes her way down to the garage, anticipating Harry’s reaction. She closes the door behind her and slips into the car without a word, buckling her seatbelt.

Harry’s eyes are practically burning her skin with how hard he’s staring, and she doesn’t even have to look at him to know that his eyes are bulging out of his head.

Turning to look at him, she puts on a look of faux confusion as she eyes him. “Are you okay?” she questions innocently, placing her arm on his bicep.

Her touch seems to snap him out of the trance, and he clears his throat with a small nod before pulling out of the garage and heading down the road. A small smirk plays on YN’s lips as they make the drive there, loving how fidgety Harry is beside her. She can clearly see his jaw clench every time he spares her a glance before swallowing thickly, his Adam’s Apple straining against the skin of his throat.

When the two are sat at a red light, YN decides to take it a step further. Reaching over, she places a hand on his thigh and feels the thick muscle twitch beneath her palm. Harry glares at her for a split second before the light turns green, his eyes snapping back to the road ahead.

A sigh of relief passes through his lips when he sees the familiar greenery of their country club’s golf course, ready to get out of the car that’s so thick with tension you could cut it with a knife. He practically speeds into his reserved parking spot, throwing the car in park and leaning back to rest against the seat.

Still smirking, YN moves her hand from his thigh to the very prominent bulge in his slacks, grazing it gently. She’s filled with satisfaction when he inhales sharply and cuts his eyes to hers in anger.

Before he can retaliate, she’s slipping out of the car quickly, and he’s not even a little bit surprised when she ‘drops’ her visor on the ground outside the car only to bend down to pick it up.

His eyes are bulging out of his head once again as he has a full view of her barely covered ass, making him stifle a groan. He can’t even form any words to speak, not that he’d get a word in anyways as she closes the door and heads into the building, a smug smile on her face.

In the car, Harry’s mouth is agape as he recalls each event he’s gone through since he stepped out of his shower, palming his cock as he realizes her game. He’s so hard it hurts, but he tries his best to will the boner away, all while coming up with a plan to even the score.

~

Rolling her eyes in frustration, YN flips Harry the middle finger as he turns to look at her, a dimpled smile on his face. Sweat is glistening on his forehead, dripping down the side of his face in the humid LA heat, and YN is damn near dripping down her thighs as she watches him play.

Ever since Harry set foot into the country club with a dimpled grin on his face, YN knew she’d fucked up by teasing him the way she did. No matter how nervous she gets, though, she refuses to show it.

With each precise swing of his favourite club, Harry makes sure to flex his muscles extra hard, and groans extra loud when the ball doesn’t go as far as he’d like.

After each of these, he cuts his eyes to his wife who is trying to act like it’s not affecting her, but he can see through her tough act. Just the thought of her dripping into her panties but acting like she isn’t has his knees weak.

About three holes in, Harry decides to take a break and go inside the club for some much needed air. He hops onto his reserved golf cart beside his wife and leans over to give her a peck on the lips before driving toward the building.

His smirk is still very evident when he places his free hand on her thigh that’s closest to him, and YN thinks nothing of it as it is a normal gesture. When he moves his hand up higher to the bottom of her dress, her breath hitches and she whips her head to look at him as she realizes what he’s doing.

“You’re not funny, H,” she hisses, a scowl on her face as his fingers touch the crevice where her thigh and pelvis meet.

Harry scoffs out a sarcastic laugh at her comment before he speaks up. “Yeah, but it was funny when you did it, hm?” he retorts, making the sharp turn that leads them to the concrete road. The movement makes his hand graze right over her pussy, and the both of them gasp quietly at the feeling.

Smirking, Harry turns his head to her for a split second. “It’s not funny. I see,” he mutters. “‘s not funny because you’re dripping into your panties and you want me to do something about it, right?” he questions, pulling into the parking spot and killing the engine.

He doesn’t even give her time to answer before he’s pushing down right where her clit is, making her choke out a moan.

Just as she starts to buck her hips into his hand, he pulls away, laughing loudly as she whines in frustration. “Should’ve thought about that before you started this, Pet,” he teases, waiting for her to climb out of the cart and head inside.

He reaches his hand out for hers, but she angrily stoops past him, upset that he’s beat her at her own game. The action makes him laugh even harder, shaking his head at his prideful wife.

~

Once inside the club, Harry gruffly greets everyone he knows, ignoring the ogling women around him. He truly only has eyes for his wife, not even bothering to look their way. Each woman has their eyes on him as he steps in, confused as to why he stood waiting by the entrance.

All of their confusion quickly moulds into jealousy as they see a beautiful woman enter the building, a pretty dress on that is the same colour as Harry’s shirt. They each take note of how he smiles softly at her and wraps his arm around her waist to keep her close, a stark contrast to the way he interacts with others.

The club is silent as the two make their way to the bar, watching the way his arm never leaves her body. No one has ever seen YN, let alone the way he treats her differently than everyone else.

The two of them just end up getting waters, parched from the heat. Despite the fact that water is free there, Harry makes sure to slap two $100 bills onto the counter once they receive their drinks.

It’s no longer silent in the club, the onlookers going back about their day as the two are literally just drinking water. Once the two are all refreshed from the cold drinks, Harry places a ringed hand on YN’s thigh once again, making her jump slightly at the coldness of his palm.

She has to stifle a groan when he picks up where he left off earlier, toying with the edge of her panties before pulling them to the side and swiping a finger through her folds. The action has her eyes rolling into her head when he grazes her sensitive clit, and then he just pulls away.

YN groans in frustration at the teasing, leaning up to whisper in his ear angrily. “Okay, it’s not fucking funny anymore,” she grits out, making Harry’s eyes widen slightly in shock. “If you aren’t going to fuck me then stop fucking touching me,” she finishes, sitting up straight once more.

Turning her head, she looks at her husband and immediately knows she fucked up. His eyes have darkened and his jaw is clenched. Unsurprisingly, the sight only turns her on even more, and she has to squeeze her thighs together to try and relieve some of the throbbing between her legs.

“In the fucking bathroom. I want you bent over the sink with y’panties down,” he demands, pinching her clit slightly and making her whimper at the slight pain that shoots up her spine. “And don’t even think about touching yourself. You’re already in trouble,” he warns, snapping her panties back into place and taking another drink of his water.

She practically scrambles as she hurries to the family bathroom, doing as he says and hoping that no one comes in and sees her exposed this way.

It’s definitely been over ten minutes by the time she’s getting so desperate she can barely wait, and then the door swings open, making her tense. She hears a familiar hum of satisfaction from behind her, and she relaxes as it’s only her husband.

Closing the door behind him, he doesn’t take his eyes off of where she’s dripping for him, watching as a bit of her slick trails down her thighs with how desperate she is.

Stepping up behind her, he swipes a finger over the skin of her thigh and collects some of her arousal before bringing it to his lips. Looking up into the mirror, he finds her eyes as he brings his finger to his mouth.

Moaning at the taste, he watches as YN squirms in discomfort as he pussy throbs at the sight. No more words are exchanged as Harry unbuttons his pants and takes his cock out before using his palm to clean up some of her arousal.

YN is confused for a moment, but it doesn’t last long at all as she watches him wrap his hand around his cock and start to stroke it with her stick.

He groans in pleasure as she whines at the sight, unsure how much more she can take. “Please fuck me. Swear I’ll be good, Daddy. Just please,” she begs, finding his eyes in the mirror.

“Mm, I don’t know, pet,” he tsks, stepping forward and moving the head of his cock through he swollen folds. “You haven’t been on your best behaviour today, so I’m not sure if you deserve it,” he hums in faux thoughtfulness.

She’s near tears at this point, just desperate to feel him deep inside of her and stretching her out. “I swear I do, I didn’t meant it,” her eyes are still boring into his. “I’ll be such a good girl, just-,” she’s immediately cut off with a gasp that melts into a moan, as Harry decided to push his cock into her in one quick thrust.

Her hands are gripping the counter tightly as he bottoms out, her jaw dropped as she hears him groan behind her. She’s so fucking full of him, feeling each ridge and vein of his cock grazing her sensitive walls.

“Thank you. Thank you so much, Daddy,” she babbles, feeling the head of his cock pressed slightly against her cervix.

The slight pain has her head spinning, and he’s just pressed up against her as he lets her adjust. When she’s fully relaxed, she gives him a slight nod of permission to begin thrusting into her.

Harry wastes absolutely no time, pulling out until only the tip of him is resting inside of her before slamming back into her and burying himself to the hilt.

The force of the thrust sends her flying forward, a choked moan falling from her lips at the feeling. He repeats the action over and over, and she’s sure she’ll have bruises on her torso in the morning from how rough it is. But she wouldn’t change it, not at all. Especially not with the way he’s making her feel so good she can barely form a coherent sentence.

Cries and moans are accompanied by the sound of Harry’s hips hitting her ass with each thrust, giving everyone outside a mental image of exactly what’s going on behind the bathroom doors.

That thought doesn’t stop him, though. If anything, it gave him the motivation to keep up the pace, absolutely wrecking his wife. His fingers are digging into her hips as he pulls her back to meet each thrust as well as keeping her stable.

Removing one hand from her hip, he brings it down onto her backside harshly, listening to her cry out and feeling her clench around him. “Gonna cum?” he questions, watching as she squeezes her eyes shut and nods, ready to cum then and there.

Just as she’s about to fall over the edge, though, she feels her orgasm slipping away and she’s empty as Harry pulls out of her, stroking his cock furiously before sliding the tip back into her at the last moment and cumming inside her contracting walls with a throaty groan.

She whines in frustration, slamming her hand down onto the counter as she squeezes her shaking thighs together for some sort of stimulation.

She looks up at him questioningly, the sadness on her face almost making him feel bad. Almost. The remorse is quickly turned back into arousal as he sees his cum leaking from her and down her thighs a bit.

“Fuck,” he pants, tucking his cock back into his slacks. “I should make you sit out there in a puddle of my cum but I need you home so I can really take you,” he spits before spanking her ass once more.

She moans deeply at the sharp sting as he rubs the sore spot before pulling her panties back up. “Cmon, let’s get to the car,” he tells her, and she instantly obliges.

The two walk back out into the main area, ignoring the shocked looks of the other members as it’s very obvious what they were doing in the bathroom.

~

Once they’re back in the car, YN is still very angry at her mean husband, but at the same time she knows she deserved it for being a brat. She just didn’t think he’d deny her of an orgasm.

The radio is on in the car, and it’s the only sound they can hear beside the engine. YN’s arms are folded neatly in her lap as she tries to avoid more punishment, already knowing he’s angry.

“Pull y’panties down,” he demands suddenly, making YN look at him in shock before immediately doing what he requested as she takes in the firm look on his face. “Rub your clit a little. Just real soft and slow,” he tells her, eyeing her as she places one leg on the dashboard and passes him the panties.

She wastes absolutely no more time, bringing two fingers between her messy folds and then up to her swollen clit before rubbing slowly and softly, just as he’d told her to. The stimulation feels so good, and she squeezes her eyes shut and throws her head back against the seat as she tries not to speed her hand up.

“Would y’look at that,” he muses, basking in the sound of her breathy whines as he watches her tease herself. “Y’panties are all ruined, poor thing,” he smirks.

She cries out in frustration and pleasure as she circles her clit again, the slow torture only making her angry.

He hums in faux sympathy, looking over at her for a brief second. “Do y’need Daddy to take care of you?” he questions, smiling softly as she nods furiously. “Oh, Pet,” he tsks. “Should’ve thought about that, hm?” he continues. “Slap y’cunt five times. Hard. Then put your legs back down,” he finishes, making her groan at the demand.

She follows his orders immediately, the stinging pain of the slaps making her jump and cry out in pain. She doesn’t let up, though, finishing up the request before closing her legs tightly and fixing her dress once more.

Harry gives her a towel to clean his cum from her hand before they continue the drive in silence, YN anticipating what’s to come.

~

By the time they arrive at home, nervous isn’t the word to describe what YN is feeling, not in the slightest. She’s kind of shaky, but Harry places a warm hand on her thigh and calms her down, his gentle touch letting her know that there’s nothing to worry about. He will always take care of her.

Stepping out of the car with her panties in pocket, Harry walks around to the passenger door and helps her out, letting her go in front of him to punch in the code to get into their home.

He closes the door gently, taking his shoes off as she does the same. “You can take a seat on the couch, I’ll be back down after I take a shower,” he tells her before pressing a passionate kiss to her lips. Yet another gesture to let her know he isn’t too angry anymore.

She nods and does as he says, just scrolling on her phone for a few minutes until she hears a knock on the front door. Confusion fills her, she’s not expecting anyone and she hopes Harry isn’t at a time like this.

Opening the door, YN is honestly saddened to see Niall, Harry’s best friend, on the other side of the door in some casual clothing.

Leaning down to give her a hug, he places a friendly kiss on YN’s forehead as she invites him in. He starts to slip his shoes from his feet, making YN frown and groan under her breath.

“Hey, YN. I hope you guys don’t mind I came over. My girlfriend and her friends are having a girls day so I’m gonna bother you two for a couple hours,” he tells her, making his way to the couch and sitting down exactly where YN had been sat just moments before.

“No, no! Don’t-“ YN tries to warn him, but he’s already sat there and getting comfortable, turning on the television in front of him.

“Don’t worry,” he continues. “It’ll be like I’m not even here,” he finishes.

“Alright,” YN sighs, still standing near the couch. “Do you want a drink or something?” she questions, and he shakes his head.

“No, you just go about whatever you were doing. Thanks,” he smiles, turning back to the television.

“I fucking wish,” YN mutters, headed to the kitchen to get a drink. She rests at the counter with her elbows against it, completely forgetting about how she was pantiless and still dripping with her husband’s cum. Not long after, she feels a presence behind her, making her jump in fear.

“Shh, it’s just me,” Harry chuckles, making her relax. She takes in the scent of his body wash and shampoo, seeing his wet hair before noticing that he’s only dressed in a towel.

“Come upstairs with me. Gonna take care of you, okay?” he tells her, pressing a kiss to her shoulder and then repeating the action all the way up her neck, making her whine and squirm.

“We can’t, Niall is here,” she grumbles, and he gives her a look that shows he clearly doesn’t care.

“I know, I saw him come in on the doorbell camera,” he answers. “Just gonna have to be a little quieter than normal, can you handle that?” he asks her, laughing as she nods quickly.

Grabbing her hand, he pulls her with him as he quietly runs up the stairs and into their bedroom, closing and locking the door behind them.

“On y’back. Need to eat your cunt before anything else,” he tells her, and she immediately scrambled to do so, desperate to feel him on her in any way she can.

He climbs on the bed after her and spreads her legs, eyeing her messy cunt before him. He’s rock hard by now, his cock throbbing and aching as he needs to be inside her again and feel her cum around his cock.

Lying down on his stomach, he wastes no time, diving in immediately and swiping his tongue through her dripping folds. Both of them groan at that, YN from the feeling and Harry from the taste of his cum on her.

He closes his eyes and works on her, not letting up for even a second as she pants heavily above him. He’s so hard that he subconsciously starts grinding into the duvet, chasing an orgasm as well.

The towel is still wrapped around his waist, the semi rough fibres grazing his sensitive cock perfectly with each push of his hips into the bedding. The feeling makes him groan against her, only pushing her closer to her orgasm.

“Please, can I cum?” she cries out quietly, reaching down and pushing his head tighter to her. He hums and tries his best to nod, giving her permission to finally cum.

She cums then and there, and it’s so hard she has to squeeze her eyes shut and turn her head to bite down onto the pillow beneath her head. It’s all she can do to keep herself from screaming, her legs shaking around his head as she cums so hard there are stars behind her eyelids.

He keeps licking at her until she whines and pushes him away, making him sit up, panting. “Holy shit we taste so good together,” he mutters, causing her to let out a snort.

“We’re not done, though. Ready for me now?” he asks her, and she laughs in shock before nodding at him.

He quickly helps her to lie on her side, getting behind her and lifting her leg to be over his waist. It’s no secret that it’s her favourite position, allowing her to be close to him as well as feel him so deeply. And it’s his favourite just because it’s her favourite.

Grabbing his cock, he slides the head through her swollen folds for a few seconds before lining up with her hole and slowly sliding in, making her eyes roll back as she gets what she needs.

She lets out a loud moan when he bottoms out, making Harry quickly place his hand over her mouth. “Hush, Pet. Don’t want us to get caught with m,cock deep in you, do you?” he teases, groaning when she clenches down on him at his words. That makes him hum in realization, pulling out just to push his cock back into her before repeating the action over and over at a consistent pace.

Neither of them know that Niall has gone on a search for them, calling their names quietly as he explores the house. Stopping outside of the bedroom door, he hears the faint sound of clapping of some sort, making him stop and listen.

“I bet you want him to hear, hm?” he teases darkly, listening to her whines and moans as she accommodates him fully. “Want m’bestfriend to hear how much of a whore you are for me,” he finishes.

His words have her crying out in pleasure, and he squeezes his hand even tighter around her throat. She claws at his wrist as she struggles to breathe, but he knows she truly doesn’t want him to stop because she didn’t tap him three times.

“Shut the fuck up, ‘m not gonna stop fucking you until you soak my cock and I fill you up again,” he grits, ignoring the sound of Niall groaning in frustration.

The two hear a groan on the other side of their locked door, but he doesn’t let up on his bruising thrusts. “You guys are fucking disgusting, I’m just going to leave,” Niall calls as he makes his way back downstairs with a disgusted look on his face. “Fuck like rabbits, I swear,” he mutters before slamming their front door shut.

YN’s eyes are rolled back into her head, her hand clawing at Harry’s wrist even harder, warning him of her orgasm, knowing it’s going to be big. Leaning down, Harry bites down on her ear gently before pulling away. “I know, baby. Gonna cum again, hm?” he questions, although he already knows the answer.

She nods against the force of him furiously, her eyes squeezed shut as she tries to hold off on her orgasm until he gives her permission. Opening her chapped lips, she manages to breathe out, “P-please,” she begs, her voice raspy. Leaning down once more, he presses some gentle kisses all over her neck before sucking on the spot gently.

Wanting to torture her a bit more, he smirks against her skin before he pulls away. “Please, what? What do you want?” he questions, loving the way she chokes and cries out in frustration, tears streaming down her face. “Tell me what you need, use your words, pet,” he hums, feeling her lock up around him once more.

After numerous attempts, and in between gasps for air, she can finally get it out as her lower body practically goes numb. “Please, let me cum,” she begs, feeling her stomach clench almost painfully.

Deciding to end his torment, he nods against her. “Yeah, pet. Cum for Daddy,” he rasps, nearing his orgasm as well. Immediately after he’s finished speaking, he feels her relax around him before locking down on him so tightly that he bites down on his bottom lip to hold back a scream of pleasure.

Her orgasm overloads almost all of his senses; he can hear, feel, and see her orgasm take over her body. The way her breath hitches in her throat and she lets out an almost animalistic groan fills his ears, her tight hole clenching down on him once more as he doesn’t stop his thrusts, the feeling of her orgasm soaking the both of their thighs making him look down as the clear liquid comes from her vagina.

All of those things combined send him over the edge with a silent scream, his face scrunched up as his orgasm is nearly painful with how tight his balls and stomach are.

His thrusts never cease, feeling her flutter around him as he fills her for the last time tonight as she relaxes fully, exhausted. He finally lets go of her throat as she starts to lose consciousness, rubbing up and down her body to ground her and cooing to her to let her know he’s there.

Not even removing himself from her still contracting hole, he wraps his arms around her and pulls her closer, pressing soft kisses to her shoulder as she comes down slowly. The two stay that way until he has completely softened inside of her and her breathing is no longer shaky and uneven.

Her eyes are still closed in exhaustion when he slowly pulls himself out of her, a small hiss leaving his lips at the temperature change. With another chaste kiss to the side of her face, he lets her know that he’s going to get a washcloth for her, knowing she doesn’t have the energy to move from the bed.

She responds with a tired hum, her eyes still closed. While away, Harry wets a washcloth with warm water before grabbing some relieving cream, and on the way back to his wife he grabs a pair of loose cotton panties for her to sleep in.

Making his way to her, he spreads her legs gingerly before wincing at how swollen she is, guilt filling him. He wipes gently, but obviously not gentle enough as she cries out softly in pain as he grazes her sensitive clit.

“Sorry, baby,” he mutters, being way gentler as he finishes up. As soon as he’s done, he grabs some relieving cream and puts a bit on her before sliding some panties up her legs, rubbing her thighs when she whines slightly in discomfort. “I know, I know. You just need to sleep in them tonight and then you can breathe tomorrow,” he tells her, wiping some sweat from her forehead.

She nods weakly and snuggles into his hand, the warmth making her feel comfortable and even sleepier than she already was. Harry chuckles quietly before cleaning himself up quickly and taking the washcloth back into the bathroom before he pulls some boxers on.

He’s back at her side instantly, helping her weakened body out of the bed and across the hall to their guest bedroom, making sure he tells her what he’s doing to keep her grounded. The blankets are quickly pulled back before he helps her underneath them, and then he’s climbing under them himself, exhausted from his multiple orgasms as well.

No time is wasted before he’s wrapping his arms around her and looking down, only to see that she’s already asleep, her breathing quiet and even. With one last chuckle, he presses a kiss to her forehead before closing his eyes, drifting to sleep as well.

~

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thank you so much for reading!!! your support means the world to me and i am open to any feedback!!! let me know what you thought🤍

[wileys-russo]

katie mccabe, “are you blushing?”, any place 🫶🏻

hot in here II k.mccabe

"oh gosh its a bit much isn't it?" your mum spoke with wide eyes and a wince as your girlfriend went tumbling to the ground, up on her feet within seconds and shoving at the chest of the player who'd taken her down.

"thats it katie! get into her girl!" your dad cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted supportively as you smacked him on the shoulder. "dad! don't encourage her." you groaned, pulling him to sit back down as both katie and the other player were awarded yellows.

"mccard strikes again." you heard someone chuckle behind you, shaking your head as your dad turned around to speak with them. "she gets a lot of those is all." you explained to your mum who seemed hopelessly confused.

"wait why is there more time?" your mum frowned as they announced there would be three added minutes of injury time. "its extra time to make up for the time where the game isn't played. like if a player falls down and needs medical attention the game is paused, so this is the time added for that interruption." you explained as she exhaled in understanding.

"go on katie! rip in!" your dad shouted as your girlfriend readied herself for a throw in, catching your eye with a wink and a grin before turning and lobbing the ball towards steph. "i hope you know the more you fluff her ego the more insufferable she gets." you sighed as time ticked down.

"ah she's confident! you need confidence to be successful. she's good at what she does and she knows it, that should be encouraged!" your dad patted your knee as you only hummed. "you should try living with her then." you chuckled with a shake of your head.

"oh! theres that lovely song again." your mum beamed as katies chant started up, your dad yelling along as katie took off down the right hand side. "go on katie! go girl!" your dad boomed as suddenly she side stepped the last player in her way and hit the ball with aloud thud, sending it hurtling forward toward alessia who tapped it in widening arsenals 3-0 lead.

you grinned as your girlfriend raced past you and your parents blowing you a kiss and giving them a wave as there was barely time for villa to kick off before the final whistle blew.

"oh that was exciting. i still don't understand much but i see why you like it!" your mum pulled you into a hug making you laugh. "she appreciates you made the effort to come, but she was nervous this morning." you revealed, watching as katie did her laps thanking fans, stopping every now and then to sign something.

"katie? nervous? thats something you need to see to believe!" your dad laughed patting you on the back as you chatted away with them, introducing them to leahs mum who made her way over to say hello, all four of you speaking until you heard a familiar whistle.

"we'll be down in two seconds darling." your mum nodded for you to go as you left them with amanda and made your way down to your girlfriend.

"well aren't you a sight for sore eyes stranger." the irishwoman teased, having been away the last week visiting your parents before they returned back with you to spend the next few days in london.

"wow its been so long when was the last time i saw you? oh was it maybe...this morning in bed?" you teased, having returned last night. "i'd almost forgotten what your face looked like." you winked, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

whatever smooth one line she intended to quip back with was interrupted at the arrival of your parents, katie hopping over the barrier to greet them properly as your dad launched into a very animated recap of how well she played.

"oh and that yellow? load of horse shit you were only defending yourself!" your dad bellowed as you winced, his voice carrying far beyond your small huddle. "dad!" you hissed, katies arm wrapping around your waist as her hand grazed the small of your back in a wordless comfort.

~

"i warned you they wouldn't let you pay baby." you laughed as you and katie stepped inside your shared home, unwrapping the multitude of layers which had been keeping you protected from the bitter chill of a winter evening in london.

"i'm callin ahead next time and settin up a tab!" your girlfriend scowled, having been easily shut down by your dad who'd paid for everyone's dinner despite both you and katie trying to protest it.

"watch it mccabe, at your age you'll get frown lines and crows feet." you teased, reaching up to smooth the wrinkles from her furrowed forehead. "oi! watch it cheeky i'm only a year older than ya." the defender warned as you sent her a wink and made your way to the living room.

"my parents really enjoyed the game baby, and you certainly gave them a show to watch." you grinned, pulled into your girlfriends lap as she sank into the lounge beside you. "i'm glad they finally got to see one, we'll get em to a national game next and then they'll really see a show!" the brunette smiled wolfishly as you laughed and pressed a tender kiss to her lips.

"i think my dad might actually contend me for your biggest fan, he was going on and on and on about you long before kick off. mum said he stayed up watching a bunch of your highlights in the hotel, she had to take his phone to force him to sleep!" you laughed, a slight pink flush coating your girlfriends cheeks at your words.

"are you blushing?" you gasped, grabbing her face as she frowned and shook her head. "no! its just...warm in here. me cheeks are red from it being so cold outside!" katie dismissed with a wave as you smirked.

"you're blushingg, you're so cute baby." you cooed, pinching her cheeks mockingly and shaking her face side to side teasingly. "aih lay off! i am not and i don't blush." katie scoffed with a roll of her eyes, shoving you off of her causing you to yelp.

"we've got mccabe! who? katie mccabe! who? i just don't think you understand!" you started to cry out, standing to your feet as the footballer stared up at you unamused. "she plays out on the wing, she blushes at every little thing, we've got katie mccabe!" you sang out, squealing as she grabbed at you and pulled you down back to lay across her lap.

"did you not like the remix babe? i think it'll go down a treat at the emirates." you smirked, your girlfriend glaring down at you though you saw the usual sparks of amusement and mischief present in her eyes.

"you're bloody lucky you're so cute darlin or i'd have dropped you a long time ago." "oh god and she's a charmer too? the full package you are love, i'll try to work that into the next verse."

[alotofpockets]

Crazier things - What if we're still meant to be? | Katie McCabe x Reader

Where you reconnect with your ex-situationship years later

Woso masterlist | Words: 3k | Part 2

Listen to the song this story was inspired by:

-----

The flight from Barcelona to London was one you had taken plenty of times, but this time it was different. Usually it was to visit your family, or for national team training, but this time around you were moving back home. 

After playing for Barcelona for four seasons, and winning plenty of silverware, you were moving back to the club that you had called home since you were only ten years old. You had come up through the ranks of the Arsenal Academy and had played for the senior team for three years, before making the move to Barcelona.

Your headphones played a random playlist you had downloaded on Spotify, as the plane got ready for take off. Once in the air, a song started playing that brought up a million memories. Memories about the girl that you had not been able to get out of your head since the day you left for Barcelona. You were going to be stuck in the air for a while, so for the first time this week, you allow your mind to wander back to those days.

– 2018 –

The new season was approaching fast. It was your second season with the senior team, and you were no longer the Academy signing. You had made a name for yourself within the team last year, and you were determined to only keep growing in the upcoming season. 

Since there would be some new players joining the team, the team captains had planned a teambuilding session the week before pre-season would officially start. Amongst the new signings, there was another face that was new to you. 

Well, she wasn’t entirely new, she had been playing at the club for a couple of years, and you had watched her play when you were still at the Academy, but the two of you had never met before as she had been on loan last season. Katie was only two years older than you were, but she was definitely a player you looked up to. So, it was safe to say that you were excited to get to play with her this season. 

You met your teammates in the bar that they had rented out, where you’d all compete in a trivia game set-up by the captains. At first you were fully zoned in on the trivia questions, but after a couple of drinks, you only had eyes for Katie. She was sitting a few tables over, but your eyes kept meeting, and each time the intensity grew.

A couple drinks later, you were fully drunk. Something the captains probably didn’t have in mind, but they picked a bar, so you felt like it was alright. As did Katie who had followed you into the bathroom, and didn’t waste any time kissing you once the door closed behind you.

The rest of the night was a blur. You didn’t know how you got home, but Katie had been laying next to you when you woke up. 

Your head was pounding, so you got up and let Katie sleep. Took some medicine and set some ready on the counter for her, while you started on breakfast. 

“What did they put in those drinks?” Katie said as she walked in clutching her hand to her head. “No clue, but take these.” You gesture to the medicine, and set down a plate of food in front of her. 

Neither one of you brought up what had happened, not that either of you had much memory of it to go by. You just moved on like nothing happened.

The next time however, you did remember. It was after the first match that you lost and Katie’s frustrations were high. “Can I come over?” She didn’t mention her intentions in the question, but you knew what she was aiming for. “Yeah.”

– 2019 –

Everyone on the team thought you and Katie were dating. The two of you were attached at the hip, they rarely saw either one of you without the other. You were more touchy with each other than with anyone else, and they would even catch the two of you making out on nights out.

The two of you weren’t together though. You had never talked about what you were. Friends with benefits? Something more? It just was. Thinking back on it now, you would classify it as a situationship. You were young and carefree, and didn’t really care. Until you did.

“Wanna get away this weekend?” Katie looked up from where her head lay in your lap. You would have a bit of time off, and hadn’t made any plans yet, so you agreed. That weekend everything changed.

Katie rented a place for just the two of you that weekend, away from the busy football lives you lived. The trip brought a new level of domesticity with it. Sharing a bed was more than normal for the two of you by now, but the walks around town where she would hold your hand, cooking together, laying cuddled up on the couch while watching a movie.

When you got back from your trip, you found yourself craving the way everything had been on your trip. Thinking back of the memories you shared, you think you had fallen for her earlier than you allowed yourself to admit. 

– 2020 –

You had tried to turn off your feelings for Katie for a couple of months now, but that turned out to be harder than you had imagined. 

Each time her lips were on yours, or you shared the bed, you wished that she was yours. In your mind that was never going to happen though. The two of you had been casual from the start, why would that change now?

You thought long and hard over what your options were, until a different option came onto your path. It had made sense in the moment, so you went ahead with it. Now all you had to do was tell Katie.

“I’m a little nervous to tell you.” You said when she sat on the couch with you. “Well, there is something I want to tell you as well, so maybe we should say it at the same time?” You tried to convince her that that would probably not be a good idea, but Katie was determined, it would make both of you less nervous, so you went along with it.

“Okay after one?” You nodded and she started counting down, “Three, two, one.”

“I am transferring to Barcelona.” “I think I am in love with you.”

You both looked shocked at the other’s confession.

In this moment everything that you wanted could happen, if you had told her that you loved her as well. But you didn’t. You were too scared, and stayed quiet. 

“I think I’m gonna go.” Katie said barely above a whisper. Your whole body was screaming at you to get up and stop her, but you were glued to the couch.

You didn’t see Katie anymore before you left for Barcelona. It wouldn’t be fair to her, you thought.

– Present day –

The seatbelt lights turned on, letting you know that you would soon be landing in London. Thoughts of Katie still clouded your mind. 

You had spent every day of your life regretting not telling her how you felt. She was a part of you that was always missing. The move back to Arsenal wasn’t about Katie, though you hoped you’d be able to apologise for the hurt you had caused her.

At Barca you had become a better player, but a part of you always missed home. You won trophy after trophy with the team, and some personal awards as well. But you wanted to be able to win trophies with the team that was your home. So, you made the decision to transfer back to Arsenal.

When you got off the plane you were greeted by a couple of familiar faces, Leah, Beth, and Kim were standing with a ‘Welcome home Gooner’ banner and big smiles on their faces. They had been your teammates before, and of course Leah and Beth both played for England with you. Still hugging them now felt different than those the past times you’ve seen them. This time it felt like coming home. 

You looked around to see if another familiar face would be around, but were only met with the faces of the strangers around you. “She didn’t come.” Leah said softly, knowing little parts of what had happened all those years ago. You nodded in understanding, of course she wouldn’t come. The girls led you to the car, and drove to a nearby restaurant to catch up.

At the restaurant you try your best to push the thoughts of Katie aside as you’re catching up with your friends, but that turned out to be harder than you thought. It was great being with your friends again, and talking with them was definitely calming down your nerves, but still seeing her again clouded your mind.

Would she still be angry? Was she happy without you? You never got closure after that day on your couch, and that was entirely your fault, so you didn’t blame her if she would never forgive you.

“Earth to y/n.” Beth says, waving her hand in front of your face. “Are you alright? You keep zoning out.” You’re pulled out of your thoughts, “Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking.” 

Beth raises her eyebrows in question, but Leah shakes her head after exchanging a glance with Kim. Beth knows that whatever it was, it was best not to push it after the warning looks Leah and Kim sent her way.

They had just started up the conversation again when your phone vibrated on the table. You look down at the sound that interrupted the story Beth was telling, and your breath catches in your throat.

Katie.

Your heart races as you quickly excuse yourself, and step outside to take the call. 

“Hello?” You’re not sure what to say, so a simple hello would have to do. It stayed silent on the other side of the line, but just as you were about to check to see if she had hung up, you heard her voice. It was soft and hesitant, yet the familiarity of it made your chest ache.

“Hey, I heard you were back.” From how she said it, you couldn’t tell how she was feeling about it. “Yeah, I am. Landed about an hour ago.” Since you didn’t know the intention of her call, you left it up to her. You were the one that left, the one that had hurt her, so you wanted to make sure that whatever happened next, was on her terms.

Katie stayed quiet for another moment, before she shared the reason for her call. “Can we meet?” This time around you were the one staying quiet for a moment. The question hung in the air, heavy with everything that had been left unsaid between the two of you.

“Yeah,” You said softly, “I think that’s a good idea.”

When you walked back into the restaurant your mind was occupied with what you would say to Katie and what she would say to you when you would meet up later that day. Leah noticed you weren’t fully there with them anymore. She narrowed her eyes and shot you a questioning look. 

“Are you alright?” She tried to say to just you, but the table was small enough for Kim and Beth to pick up on it too. You looked at all three of them and then back down to your plate, “Yeah, just it was Katie.”

“What did she say?” Leah tried to push you to open up gently. “She wants to meet.” You felt a tightness in your chest thinking about what would happen when you would. You failed to notice Kim telling Beth off for wanting to ask more questions. They all knew bits and pieces of what had happened between you and Katie, but only the two of you knew the depth of it all.

Kim puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “Take it one step at a time. You’re back home now, and that means facing some things in the past, that includes Katie. Not to go all captain on you, but it’s probably best if you face that part before pre-season starts.” You knew she was right and nodded, “Yeah, I will meet her tonight.”

The girls dropped you off at your new apartment. Your family had helped you with getting the whole apartment ready for you, including picking up the car you bought. You settled in the apartment, and started thinking of what you would say to Katie. 

Time passed quickly and before you knew it, it was time to head over to the coffee shop where Katie texted you the address of. You remembered the place, you had gone there often before, even with Katie. 

You found her in the far corner, sipping on her drink and staring out the window. She looked the same, yet different. She looked more mature now, but still that hint of cheekiness you had always loved was present.

She looked around and her eyes softened. It gave you the courage to move towards her. “Hey.” You said softly, sitting down across from her. “Hey.” She replied, her voice just as soft. There was a tension between the two of you, that made a silence fall over the both of you.

One of the waiters came over to take your drink order, and something about that made it all seem so familiar. The two of you stayed silent until your coffee order was placed in front of you.

Katie was the one to break the silence. “You left.” Her tone was laced with a hint of sadness, but not anger. “You left without saying goodbye.” 

Her words hit you hard, but it was true. “I know. I’m sorry. I thought it would be easier for both of us.”

She locks her eyes to yours, “Was it?” You looked down at your cup, not able to look her in the eyes. “No,” You whispered. “It wasn’t easier. Not at all.” A silence fell over you again. The bustling noises of the coffee shop, surrounding you. 

“I spent a long time wondering why you didn’t say anything back that day.” She tried making eye contact with you again. “The day I told you how I felt.” You lift your eyes up to meet hers. Your heart ached.

“I was scared, Katie. I didn’t know how to handle what I was feeling. I signed the contract to escape my feelings, and then you spoke the words I was feeling too and I froze. I’ve regretted not telling you how I felt every single day since.”

Deep down Katie had known that you had felt the same way, but this was the first time she had heard you say it outloud. “Do you still feel the same?”

Unlike four years ago, you were quick to respond. “Yes. Yes I do.” You got nervous at admitting that. “I know a lot of time has passed, and we’re different people now. I don’t know if it’s fair of me to say this now, but I still love you, Katie. I always have.”

Her eyes softened at your confession, as if she had been seeking this information the whole time. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out. A moment passed, until finally she spoke.

“What if we’re still meant to be?” Her words hung in the air. She asked the question that had kept you awake more often than you’d like to admit. “Crazier things have happened, right?” she added, a hint of hope in her eyes.

You remember the words of your old coach. Take the shot, even if you’re afraid to miss. Your coach may have meant to apply it to football only, but it was a good life motto. “Then we’re crazy not to try, right?” 

Katie was fiddling with her Claddagh ring. “I think I’ve been waiting for this moment.” She confesses. “For you to come back, I mean. I tried to move on, to forget, but it was always you.”

You reach out your hand and place it over hers. “I don’t know what the future holds, but if there is even the smallest chance that we are meant to be, I want to take it. I don’t want to live with regrets anymore.”

Katie puts her other hand down on top of yours. “The last time around, we kind of skipped a lot of steps. If we’re gonna try this again, can we please start from the beginning and take things slow?” Her tone was laced with a new found nervousness. You agreed fully though, you wanted to try this the healthy way. “I wouldn’t want it any other way. Let’s do it the right way this time around.” 

You spend some more time catching up, now that the big conversation was out of the way. When it was time to leave, the two of you stood outside of the coffee shop, ready to say goodbye. 

“Can I hug you?” You asked softly. Katie answered by putting her arms around your neck, and your hands quickly fell to her back. The feeling of her in your arms was so familiar. Her smell was the same as back then, and it brought you back to that all too familiar feeling.

When you stepped out of the hug, you met her eyes which were watery. “I promise to make it all up to you. I’ll be better this time around.” She nodded, “Me too.” 

You gave her another quick hug, “I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.” She nodded, “Yeah, I will see you tomorrow.”

Continue reading part 2

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[someonegoood]

MY WHOLE LIFE pt. 3 ✫ mason mount

part 1, part 2, final part.

in which after everything you gave, you're not sure if you're going to keep going. (brother’s best friends troop).

CONTAINS: brother’s best friend troop, angst, some smut (not really explicit) & fluff ! age gap, arguments...

AUTHOR'S NOTE: here's part 3 ! final part for my first two works, I'm proud of how it came out

taglist: @girlidekanymore @sunflower-tia @nicolesainz @chilwellspulisic @anotherfan07

inspired by taylor swift's songs.

The feeling of freshness —the wonderful smells, the damp feel of leaves falling down the trees, the breeze and the rain on your skin. The sound of rain is wonderful: not just between a hard roof and leaves, but you can hear it on different types of trees and hedges.

The flowers, which look like they were painted by Monet himself, have colours so rich that no one can even attempt to imitate them. From the smallest weed to the grandest stalk, they are all beautiful in your eyes.

Around you are your friends; some are talking or enjoying the countryside air. You had decided to take me on a little vacation before returning to the routine of the busy city of London.

No distractions, no disturbances, especially without him. After seeing how Mason smiled at that blonde standing next to him and Debbie's painful look in the boat, you knew all these years were in vain.

The moments when you took care of him after he vomited from all the alcohol he had consumed at the party, when you covered him so he could go on dates with different girls and other things you had done for him.

The last time Mason saw you still burned in the back of your mind, the little stolen glances he gave you while you were wearing a pink t-shirt, the one that you had left back in a drawer in the Mount's house. Stacey had told you the t-shirt drove him crazy.

It had been weeks, and you still couldn’t understand why nothing went your way. Was it you? Had you done something wrong? Had it been you that caused the gulf?

—Babes, how could you ever think it's your fault? Clearly, he is out of his mind. —Clara talked. You and your friends were sitting on the porch in the extensive field that belonged to your grandparents.

Then Adelaida, who was resting her head on your lap, suddenly stood up, leaning on one elbow and said: —Please don't think it's your fault, you would be lowering yourself to his level.

Everyone had been adamant that it wasn’t you... even your mother. But even with those words of affirmation, it didn’t change the internal feelings, the heartbreak that felt it was never-ending. 

All you ever wanted was that connection, that string, that feeling that pulled you to another person, that proved he was the person meant to be for you. It was devastating to think back and know he wasn’t. 

Even though you were angry at him, you knew that when you saw him you would act like a little girl, crazy in love.

On the other side, Mason was in the kitchen, picking at the leftover food on the tabletop as everyone else was in the living room. His mother walked into the kitchen as he took a bite of little meatballs that looked delicious and she laughed at the pieces of meat that had fallen onto the kitchen counter.

—That’s definitely not the way to eat —she smirked knowing his son wasn't the type of person to sit down and eat properly.

—But you love me anyways, mom. —Mason flashed his puppy eyes as his mum laughed at his actions. It had been a long year for Mason. He stopped turning to family events when he knew you would be there.

—Mason Tony Mount, I gave birth to you, I know you better than you know yourself-

—Mom. —Mason sighed. —Don't start this whole speech about her, please.

—Dear, I don’t even need to say her name... it will always be her. —She smiled, sadly, as she walked over to her son and placed a hand on his cheek.

—She's happy, from what I heard. —he scoffed again.

—So then you know you’re being an ass, right?

Mason's eyes widened at his mother's question but she just laughed and waved him off. —After all the years she spent after you, dear, it would be cruel for you to not let her be happy.

That sentence shattered his heart. You weren't the little girl who ran behind him in search of attention anymore, you were a woman with maturity, feelings and beauty.

—But what if I’m not happy? —he asked his mum. Debbie felt her heart clench at his words, it was never good for a mother when they saw their son being at his lowest.

—Do you love her?

There was no answer.

—See, that would be very cruel. Mase... either you love her or you’re jealous. Just remember that she's a second daughter to me and I know her like the palm of my hand. I'm certain that she’s fragile when it comes to you.

After a week in the countryside with your friends, you were back in the city, at a party the english players were throwing in celebration of their team winning the last few games.

Every time he looks at you, it’s making him go mad. It surprises him how much influence you have on his night out. He actually believed he could handle it, seeing you after a while. Normally he’s the one who takes you to the football after-parties because you begged him like crazy. But not this time.

Did you wear a white dress on purpose tonight? He doesn’t know. You look beautiful and he wishes he had the nerve to tell you how great white looks on you. He remembers the time you almost kiss in the box, you in the white sweatshirt with his number. The guy talking to you on your right was Foden. Did you wear it for him? He doesn’t believe that, he doesn’t think he deserves that. 

Mason sighs. This is one of the hardest nights in his life. He shouldn’t have messed it up. If he didn’t follow what Ben said to him, he would probably be the one talking to you. Fucking Ben.

At the same time, you don’t know what’s bothering Mason. You thought he would be coming to the afterparty with Daphne, but his friends confirmed that he forgot her quickly. He didn't even kiss her. Neither touch her.

It surprised you, you were afraid he would show up with that beautiful model. A part of you felt really happy.

You feel his eyes burning into you while you talk to Foden. You quickly take the cocktail out of Phil's hands, while thanking him in the meantime. He shrugs it off. 

—What’s up with you? —He asks you after you take a few sips. 

—What do you mean? —You ask him. Is he noticing your bad mood? You tried hiding it, but maybe you failed.

—You seem distracted. Did something happen? —he goes on. You take a sip of your cocktail, thinking about your response. Could it be a bad plan to tell him about Mase? They’re friends after all. But on the other hand, it would be nice to talk about it to someone. 

—It’s him, isn’t it? —Foden answers his own question. You didn’t even realize you were looking at Mason until Phil spoke. You nod towards him, —Let’s go outside.

Then, you're sitting on a wooden bench outside. The white dress doesn’t give you much warmth, so you embarrassingly start to shiver. Before you can notice it, Phil drapes his jacket around your shoulders. 

—Fuck... —he says, regretting. —I knew it would be a bad plan to invite you. —Mutters softly, —I thought it was a good idea to make you feel better, now I just got Mount to get angry at you.

You laughed, thinking that was very cute. —That’s not true, Phil —you try to comfort him, —you can’t help me being an idiot.

—To be fair, Mason and you are both idiots. —Foden laughs, —Definitely unaware idiots-

But before he can explain to you anything, Mason shows up in front of you. 

While walking back to his car, he notices the sound of people talking outside. He thinks he’s recognizing your voice. He must be going insane, he thinks tiredly to himself. But still, he walks towards the sound. Quickly seeing you and Phil sitting together... fucking hell, why are you wearing his jacket? 

Before he realizes it himself, he stands before you and his teammate Foden. The chattering stops directly, did he interrupt something? He feels awkward with you and Phil looking at him amusingly. How can he fix this awful situation? 

—I uh... I wanted to say bye to you. —Mason said, ignoring the existence of Phil. —I am supposed to bring you home or will Phil...?—He stutters eventually, not wanting to finish his question.

��Wait, Mase, can we talk? —You react before Mason turns around and walks to his car in a rush. He nods.

—Of course.

The silence was sharply awkward.

—Don’t forget your jacket, Foden —Mason quickly says, —she can wear mine while we’re outside.

Phil, who no longer was sitting on the bench, laughed for a bit at his hopeless friend. Then he walks up to you, and takes his own jacket from your shoulders, while Mason quickly takes off his. You give Phil a quick hug to thank him, before getting into Mason's jacket.

—Don’t be an idiot to her —says Phil toward Mason whispering in his ear. You smile shyly, flushing with Phil's comment. 

Mason doesn’t know how to watch the interaction between his friend and you. He doesn't know where to look when you turn your attention to him. The white dress quickly grabs his attention once again.

Silently, both of you walk to the parking lot where his fancy Mercedes-AMG was parked. You had always made fun of him because the car was too posh in your opinion, although every time you needed a ride home you always ended up in his car.

Firstly he took the car keys out of his pocket and then he opened your door for you. He had always been a gentleman. The situation is unexpected, yet influenced by the tension that’s been built between you two through the last couple of months. 

—So, what do you want to talk about? —Mason asks you. You lasted a few seconds thinking about how to answer his question.

—Why were you ignoring me today? Why didn’t you come up to me and Phil to say hi? —You fire multiple questions at him, —did I do something wrong? Are you upset with me? —Your words cut through the thick air inside the car.

—I thought the two of you were busy with each other. —Mason mutters.

You scoff, this was unbelievable. —That’s bullshit Mase, you know I always make time for you.

—God!, I just wasn’t in the mood to see you two. —He said, elevating his tone, trying to sound casual but deep down, jealousy was gnawing at him like a relentless beast.

You don’t know what to say to Mason. You don’t even know what the boy means. He wasn’t in the mood to see you? Since when could that happen? 

—Why? —You barely dare to ask him. You have no choice, so you repeat your last question —why, Mase? —Your eyes start to fill with tears.

Mason sighs, —You won’t get it.

—You don’t know that. Try me.

—I just... I just don’t like seeing you with other boys —he confessed. You doubt for a bit. Should you tell him you were relieved he showed up alone instead of coming with Daphne? You decide not.

—Oh, come on Mason! You can't say that! —You almost shout. Mason's eyes open like plates. You had never raised your voice at him like that, so angry.

—Why not? —He, as well, says almost shouting.

—Because you don't have the right! It's-it's just that you can't say that as if my feelings were so simple... —You tried to calm yourself, you could lost everything now.

—Mason, I've been with you since the beginning and you know that. I'm your biggest supporter and deep inside you know I’ll always cheer for you. I’ve spent my whole girlhood- Fuck. —Tears start scrolling down your delicate face. He looks at you as if you were graceful.

—I wanted to be with you tonight, —you eventually say after a long silence—but you looked at me as if I didn’t matter.

—I know.

You sigh. Can't the boy say anything else? You feel obligated to talk further: —Why aren’t you telling me what’s wrong?

You don't get any answer. Looking at the ceiling of the car, you try to keep your cool.

—You know what? I’m going back to the party. Call me when you can explain at least something. —You want to undo yourself from Mason's warm jacket, but he stops you directly by grabbing your arm.

—I know you deserve to know what’s going on, but I don’t want to lose you. I know it’s a shitty excuse which makes everything even more unclear, but please don’t go back inside. —Mason talks soft and fast —and please keep the jacket on.

—What’s so important about the jacket? —You ask with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood a bit. 

—Your dress distracts me and I don’t want to see you in anyone else’s jacket again. —This time he is direct with his words. Almost harsh. You wonder why your dress distracts him. Does he find it ugly?

 —Don’t you like the dress? —You ask.

 —I fucking love the dress. —Mason says. At that moment you feel something clicking. Despite his short explanation, you wonder if Mason may return your feelings.

—Just give me time. Everything is happening so fast and the fact that I'm just realizing that all these years all I've been doing is hurting you makes me go mad angry at myself. —He says, without breathing. —And... I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry for everything I've done, for the countless times I've hurt you. I promise you will have a proper explanation. —He tried to smile, with tears in his eyes.

—That's the Mase I know... —You laugh lightly and Mason just stares at you, sweetly. —Now take me back home, probably my brother is already wasted.

What you didn't know is that that day Mason Mount started falling in love with you.

A few days after you were your house, sat in the cozy familiarity of the your couch while your mother flipped through the pages of a weathered photo album resting on her lap. Each turn of the page revealed a snapshot of your brother's and your past, a journey frozen in time.

—Look! You're wearing my glasses! —Said your mother, with clear emotion in her voice. She turned some pages that had photographs of your childhood: when you were born, your first tooth fell out and many more memories.

Your cheeks flushed with nostalgic warmth, a subtle testament to the innocence and joy captured in each photograph.

Among the sepia-toned memories and faded polaroids, there was a page filled with pictures where Mason and you, both still little children, intertwined in laughter playing in the park.

Your mom pinched your cheek. —Someday you will realize that everything you did was not in vain, on the contrary, it was all worth it. —She stopped to take a breath. —Because golden loves are like that. They stay with you forever.

—How beautiful, mom. —You ironized. She laughed.

—It will, darling... Come here. —And then you hugged her. You hugged her with all your might as you felt her warmth on your face. She giggled, breaking the embrace.

—You'll need a spell to make Mason realize what a fool he is.

—Mom!

A couple days later, you were back at Stamford Bridge once again. As you approach the stadium, you can feel the excitement building. The streets around the stadium eagerly anticipate the game ahead.

Inside the stadium, the dominant colour is blue. The stands are filled with supporters adorned in their team's jerseys, scarves, and signs that say "Pride of London".

—Call her Mason, I’m sure she's in the stands —said Ben, while putting on the new shirt they played in today. Mason held his cell phone, sitting on the bench in the large locker room.

Today was Valentine's Day and Mason had a game. Your brother told Mason he was going out on a date with his girlfriend but you would go in his place, as usual. He didn't know if you were coming, so Mason was nervous, especially with the talk you had in his car.

You had called Debbie in the morning, asking her if you should come to the game, and she told you that Mason would be more than happy to see you there. You wondered if he knew what you were up to if your brother had kept him in the loop.

Pick it up.

Pick it up.

The third tone rang while Ben tried to hold Mason, about to faint from anxiety. In the background, music was blasting from the speakers while the guys on the team began gathering in the locker room for their last talk before the game started.

Reece James leaned closer, curious why his teammate was sitting with his phone in hand, bouncing his leg nervously.

—What has got Mount that nervous? I've never seen him like this —he says to Ben, seated next to Mason, fixing his shoes.

—It's his girlfriend-

—She's not my girlfriend! —Mason interrupted Chilwell, with an expression of fear. You still haven't answered him and the fact that his friends were bothering him added to his anxiety.

—Give me that shit. —Suddenly Kai Havertz appeared out of nowhere, grabbing Mason's phone and putting the call on speaker. Everyone's attention was on the tones ringing, hoping you'll pick up. The team had witnessed your situationship since Mason had joined Chelsea, so they knew you quite well.

—Hi? Mason?

Kai, standing on the bench in the centre of the room, had the phone in his hand so everyone could hear. His eyes widened and his mouth also opened, in surprise. Everyone stood up while Mason's blood pressure went down.

With a jump, Havertz handed the cell phone to his friend so he could answer you. There was a silence between your response and his because his teammates were signalling to him, guiding him in his response.

—Yes? —That was the only thing he could think of at that moment.

—You... you've just called me minutes before your game. Is everything okay? Do you need something? —For you, it was strange that Mason called you, especially right before his game. Mason's teammates melt with your response, you seemed like a worried girlfriend.

—N-no, I was calling to know if you're on Stamford Bridge. —He stuttered, nervous about your answer. You smiled a bit, already seated between the blue tide of fans.

—Of course! I wouldn't miss a game for anything Mase. —And that was the end of him. He said goodbye saying that he had to go out and play and hoped you liked the game, while all his friends were shouting acknowledging that probably by the end of the year, they would have a new addition on their team.

The match ended with Chelsea winning by two goals and the assistance of Mason. You couldn't be more proud of him and after the exhilarating victory at Stamford Bridge, you made your way to the cooldown room, where players and staff often gather to unwind after the match.

As you entered, you spotted Mason, the hero of the game with his crucial assist. A sense of pride swelled within you as you approached him. He was putting something in his backpack, distracted.

—Incredible game out there, —you said, startling Mason. He turned with a smile, recognizing your voice without seeing your face.

—Thanks, this means a lot to me... —Mason replied, his face beaming with satisfaction. You both exchanged a few more words about the match, sharing our favourite moments and the atmosphere at the stadium. Then, out of the blue, Mason's tone turned slightly more serious.

—You know... —he said, pausing for a moment. —I've been thinking. We've been through so much together, your support has meant a lot to me.

You nodded, feeling a sense of tenderness with him. Mason took a deep breath before continuing. —Listen, I was wondering if you'd like to grab dinner later. Just to say thanks for always being there, you know?

Surprised by the unexpected invitation, you couldn't help but smile. —I'd be honoured to join you. —You said, laughing out of nervousness.

A couple hours later, Mason kept his hand on your lower back as he led you through the restaurant, your body settled into his side. His hand slid around your waist while opening the door, a shiver already wracking your body. You gasped at the white snow starting to lay outside, thick flakes slowly falling from the sky.

—Look there! Mase, it's snowing! —You tugged a little on Mason's hand on your waist, the heat replacing the cold feeling on your fingers. There was already a pretty thick layer on the ground and you wondered briefly how long it had been snowing. —It's so pretty.

Mason watched your smile widen when he was paying the bill, as you tilted your head back, eyes squinting as the flakes cascaded down. He'd never seen anyone get so excited over snow.

You looked so good under the twinkling lights, the candle in the middle of the table illuminating half of your face. He was having an amazing time, already realizing he mad in love with you.

From the way you keep your hair in a messy ponytail to the way you are surprised by the snow. Everything about you was perfect for him.

—Do you want to go for a walk before I take you home? —He slid his hand over your jaw, his thumb stroking away the little flake on your cheek. You gave a small nod, flushed since all of this was new for you. He grinned before stepping back and holding his hand out to you.

—M'lady?

You looped your arm through his and the two of you started off down the street, his gaze darting between you and the falling snow. You snuggle as close as possible to him to steal some of his natural body heat.

Snow was falling and settling into Mason’s hair, individual flakes dropping onto his eyelashes and you were certain he’d never looked prettier.

—Remember the time I tried to sneak out and you caught me? That time I was actually grounded for fighting with my brother and I wanted to buy the new console game you were so interested in. —You said, recalling those silly things.

He didn't know if his cheeks were flushed pink from the cold or from what you'd just said.

—But that game was so expensive!

—I know! I just wanted to give you something for your birthday. That's why I didn't have any presents for you at your birthday party.

Mason caught your gaze, head cocking curiously at the sudden shy look that had taken over your features. You let your eyes wander from him to the snow-filled street around you. You slowed to a stop, right against the barriers of the little lake and you leant against it, the two of you facing each other, your hand still clasped in his.

All you wanted was to grab him and kiss him, you didn’t care who saw or if you got a cold, you just wanted to kiss him in the snow.

After a silence, he said: —You know I want you, right?

You looked at him. Surprised. Self-conscious Scared. But above all, in love.

—I've been thinking and I can't help falling for you now. I’m not jealous because you have other people in your life, I’m not a fucking kid. That time with Phil, at the party, made me realize that I want you with me... By my side. I want to be the one you say 'I love you' to, I want to be the one that cuddles you, that-

You interrupted him. —Mase, I… I don’t know how to say this… —Voice uncertain as you watched for his reaction, for any flicker of emotion that stated he didn't want that.

His face fell, and he retracted his hands from the barriers that before were trapping you between his body and the barriers. Ready for rejection, he looked into your eyes.

—I… I like you too. —You looked down, feigning sadness. When you looked up, he was squinting at you. —I don't know how are you convincing my brother you're good enough for me...

—I'd probably invite him to one of my games and we could go for dinner after the game? I'll book somewhere for us. —You matched his smile with a nod, shoulders relaxing slightly after the confession as you pulled your hand from his so you could settle your arms around his neck instead.

—Sounds amazing. Deep inside he's a West Ham fan, y'know. — Mason's face contorted a little when he bumped his nose against yours, lips lightly brushing together.

—Oh shut up, —he muttered into your lips, —let me kiss you.

And you obeyed, your hands resting nervously at his neck as he ravished you, his tongue begging for entrance. You allowed it, moaning into his lips as they intertwined perfectly. His hands travelled from your hair to your waist where he pushed you closer to him.

You indeed had waited your whole life for this.

[avatar-anna]

Assistant! Reader x Harry Styles Masterlist

April 2016

“Thank you for meeting me.”

Y/n settled into the seat across from Harry. Her hands curled tightly around her mug, apprehension seeping into her bones. “Of course.”

She had been surprised when Harry called her, asking to meet at the Beachwood Cafe. She hadn’t heard from him in months, not one call or text, not even an email. Not that Y/n really expected much when One Direction finally went on hiatus, but after zero communication, she wasn’t quite sure why he’d called her all these months later. 

“How are you? I haven’t seen you in ages,” Harry asked.

Y/n’s eyebrows raised a bit, but she answered him anyway after taking a sip of her coffee. “Fine, I guess. You?”

“Good!” Harry said excitedly. “Taking a break the last few months has been…I don’t know. Peaceful, but odd, you know? I’ve never had so much time to myself before.”

“Must be nice,” Y/n said, trying to hide the irritation in her voice.

“Yeah, but I realized that I kind of miss it,” he said. “I knew once we decided on the hiatus that I wanted to do my own thing, but I thought I would take a longer break, but I feel like I’m…itching to get back to work.”

That definitely seemed like Harry. Y/n had worked for him for years, and even when there were breaks between tours, he was hard at work—writing, going to Fashion Week, collaborating with other artists, vocal training, even trying new recipes in his state-of-the-art kitchen, which led to a phone call at one in the morning where Harry asked Y/n to come over and see if his macrons tasted "fluffy enough." It seemed only right that he rested for mere months before starting a new project. She could practically picture him at either of his homes in LA or London, scribbling in his leatherbound journal or playing new melodies on his guitar or piano (and the occasional late-night pastry party). As long as she’d known him, Harry had been a hard worker through and through. A little on the wild side when he had some tequila in him, but when it came down to his career, he was focused, determined. 

“Good for you,” Y/n said, meaning it. She always thought he was capable of more. “So what comes next for you? Have you recorded songs already?”

“Not quite. I’m planning a trip to Jamaica to write and record there. It’s remote, serene, a good place to get away. So we’ll have to start booking flights and places to stay and—”

“I’m sorry, ‘We?’” Y/n asked, her brow furrowing with confusion. 

Harry matched her look of confusion with one of his own. “Yeah, I mean—I need you. I can’t do this without you.”

The sentiment warmed Y/n’s heart for a moment, but his immediate assumption that she would drop everything just because he asked her to brought the irritation swarming back. “Mr. Sty—Harry, you know I don’t work for you anymore, right?”

“What do you mean? Are you talking about the hiatus? I just thought we could all use some time off, but…I guess I just thought—”

Harry didn’t finish his thought, but his cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. Y/n would’ve found it cute if he hadn’t been so dense. Resentment still circled around her like a fog, and she wouldn’t let it go so easily, she couldn’t. 

“I was employed by your management, Harry. To be an assistant to a member of One Direction,” Y/n explained. “I was let go. I had to quickly find another job doing something else.”

“Oh.”

Y/n supposed she should’ve anticipated being fired, but she didn’t. There was a lot of information that she was privy to that most people weren’t, secrets that were tightly bound by an NDA when she was first hired, but talks of the hiatus was very hushed. She knew to suspect that somewhere down the line the boys would finally take a break, but it came a lot sooner than she was prepared for, and she was left jobless before she had the chance to line something else up. Y/n thought that Harry would give her the courtesy of a warning, but he said nothing about it to her, didn’t offer much except a side hug after One Direction’s last performance.

So yeah, she was a little bitter.

“I’m—I’m really sorry, Y/n. I know it doesn’t make up for…all of this and everything you went through, but I am truly sorry.”

“Thank you.” 

Y/n believed him, believed that he was sorry for everything that went down, but it still hurt to know she wasn’t someone he was close enough to talk to about all of this at the time. She was Harry’s assistant, she knew that, but they’d been through a lot together. But he was ever the professional it seemed, and it was her job to remember that, not his.

When she realized her coffee was finished, Y/n stood up. “Well, it was good seeing you, Harry. Good luck on your next project. I’m sure it’ll be great.”

“Wait, but—you’re not—you‘re leaving?”

“I have to run a couple errands before work," Y/n explained. She rested her hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “But really, no hard feelings. I wish you all the best.”

She left Harry at the table, heading for the front of the cafe and toward the busy street beyond. Her heart felt heavy as she walked away, but she tried to shake the feeling that she was walking away from more than just her boss. Former boss. Like her mother always reminded her, she couldn’t be a personal assistant forever.

“Wait!”

Y/n turned on instinct, eyes widening as Harry jogged after her, his little bun bouncing with each step. He skidded to a stop in front of her, green eyes wide and searching. For what, she wasn’t sure, but the heat of his gaze was enough to make butterflies stir in her stomach.

Putting on her best front, she raised her eyebrows, waiting for Harry to say whatever he needed to.

“I wasn’t kidding earlier. I need you, Y/n,” he said. “I—You’re the only one who really knows me, who I know will have my back no matter what. I need a familiar face in my corner.”

I need you, Y/n. Those words were her kryptonite. Year after year, Y/n heard Harry's voice over the phone as he roused her from sleep, read the text messages while she was getting her nails done or watched TV in her hotel room, or on the rare occasion she went on a date. But she had to hold strong. Y/n had been devastated by her sudden layoff, but now she had a life, and she didn't want to get sucked back into Harry's very alluring web of charming smiles, cheesy jokes, and endless adventure. That was his life, not hers.

“I have a job, Harry. I can’t just drop everything and quit because you suddenly want me to—”

“What are they paying you?”

Y/n’s brows furrowed. “Excuse me?”

Harry pushed on. “What are they paying you? I’ll double it.”

Scoffing in disbelief, she said, “It’s not about the money—”

“Triple,” he countered. Harry took her hand in his and squeezed it. He looks desperate, Y/n thought.

“I can’t just quit my job because you remembered I existed,” Y/n said quietly, pulling her hand out of his. She clung to her resolve, hoping Harry would make this easy and just let it go, let her go. “I—I deserve more.”

More of what, she wasn’t sure, but Y/n knew it was true. Harry only reached out because he needed something from her, and that hurt more than she cared to admit. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Harry said, looking down at his shoes. A pair of scuffed Chelsea boots he wore practically everywhere. Y/n had bought him a pair of Vans one year, an attempt to switch up his wardrobe, but he still chose the boots nine times out of ten. “Just—At least think about coming to Jamaica. Please?”

“Harry—”

“Not as my assistant. As a guest. A friend,” Harry amended. “We’re planning on staying at a huge villa, and I want to make up for being an idiot. Just—Just think about it. Please.”

Despite everything, Y/n found herself wanting to say yes. It was that magnetic pull she felt toward Harry that had kept her working for him for so long. He was an important person in her life, and up until he’d all but ghosted her after the hiatus, she thought she was important to him too. In spite of his misgivings, Y/n still wanted to believe that she was. 

It was so stupid, but it felt good to be wanted by him. She was an idiot, she knew that. But her friendship with Harry was legitimate, he'd just acted like a complete idiot. She'd known him long enough to know he was very capable of acting like an idiot. So even though she shouldn’t, even though she had carefully lined up her reasons not to in a little line, she started to cave. 

But she couldn’t make the decision now. Not when Harry was looking at her with pleading green eyes and his sad little puppy dog face, his cologne dizzyingly lovely. No, she owed it to herself to really think about what she wanted. If getting sucked back into that whirlwind was worth it. Worth getting her heart properly broken when she knew he would never feel the same about her.

"I'll show up at work, you know," Harry said. "I'm not above it. You might think I am, but I'm not."

Y/n had no doubt in her mind that he would. Along with being an idiot, Harry was very stubborn, and very persistent. She had years with him to know that. Did she really need Harry Styles showing up at her place of work?

“Fine, I’ll think about it,” she finally said, trying to pretend like her heart was screaming to just agree. But her heart was an impulsive little shit that was bound to get her in trouble.

Harry’s face broke out into a wide grin, one that displayed those famous dimples and lit up his entire face. It was hard to feel like he didn't think she was the only person on earth to exist when he looked like that, like he was convinced she’d already said yes. “I’ll take it.”

[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! ❤️

[ilovefootballwrs]

With Me Forever - Part |

A part of the So Long, London series.

Reader x Jessie Fleming

Based on a Norwegian song called "For Evig", by Chris Holstein.

"If that was all we got, was only a moment. Then it's with me forever. If it's the last night, and we'll never see each other again. Then it's with me forever."

..................

The news of Jessie's departure didn't shock me, I already knew about it long before the others. What shocked me was how far she was going, and everything went so fast. Soon she was going to be living almost a 10 hour flight from London, from me. I would never try to stop her, it wouldn't be fair, but at the same time the distance wouldn't be fair for either of us.

. . .

"It's so weird that it's Jessie's last day in London today. When is she leaving again?" Guro asked me. Guro was always like a big sister to me. We both play for Norway, and with her being a couple of years older than me, she basically watched me grow up and our bond grew into a sibling like friendship.

"Uhm...I think her flight leaves at midnight, so probably some time before that." I said with a sad smile on my lips.

"Listen, I know how hard this is for you. You know you can always come to me if there's anything wrong, right?" She asked with a look of concern on her face.

"So cliché." I laughed. "I know Guro, I will." I gave her a genuin smile. "I have to go now, I'm helping Jessie pack the rest of her stuff, bye!"

. . .

The feeling I'm feeling right now got to be the worst feeling on earth. Packing away her stuff for her to move away is the last thing I want to do. My heart clenches for every item I pack away.

I'm just placed the last of her items in the box when I hear footsteps behind me.

"It's much more emptier now." Jessie said as she went to sit on the bed.

I looked up at her. "Well, I guess you were the one that owned most of the stuff in here.

I stood up and went to sit beside her, putting head on her shoulder and interlocked our hands.

"I'm sorry for leaving" I could her the sadness in her voice. I took my head of her shoulder to look at her. Her cheeks were slightly more red than usual and she had tears in her eyes.

"Please don't cry, Jess." I put my hand on her cheek and continued to talk. "I don't blame you for leaving, I will never ever blame you. This is just something you have to do." I tried reassuring her.

"I'm still sorry. I don't know what I'm gonna do without you." The tears fell down her face and I could feel my eyes starting to tear up.

"I don't know either." I whispered. "I never wanted to lose you."

"You don't have to you know. You don't have to lose me." She said.

"Jess-" I started before getting interrupted by her.

"Y/N we, us, don't need to be over just because I'm leaving. Obviously I would never ask you to leave Chelsea for me, but we could do long distance." She said with a pleading look. "Please Y/N- don't let this be the end of us."

"I really wish it was that simple Jess, I really do, but I don't think I could do it. My heart couldn't take it Jess." At this point I was sobbing, not giving a care in the world. "I'm really sorry Jess, I really am."

. . .

We ended up spending the last couple of hours in each others arms before Niamh came to pick Jessie up. We both figured it was easier for the both of us if it was Niamh driving Jessie to the airport.

Niamh was sat in her car to give us space to say our goodbye. We hug before Jessie pulls away. "I'll always love you Y/N. No matter what happens, you will always be the love of my life."

She pulls me back in to give me a kiss. "Our memories will be with me forever, Jessie. As will my love for you." I tell her before she has to go.

I watch her get in the car and give her a wave and a smile when she's inside it. She returns the wave with a sad smile.

. . .

It's been two weeks since Jessie left. The two most horrible week. My whole routine has changed now that Jessie is gone. I don't wake up the smell of fresh coffee and a kiss anymore. I don't get to steal my favorite hoodie of hers anymore. I don't get the "I love you"s from her anymore. And there is no one to hold me in the nights anymore.

When vacuuming the bedroom, which Jessie usually used to do, I stumble across a box under the bed. It must've been Jessies. I pick it up and put it on the bed, while I also go to sit on the bed. I don't know what to do. Should I open it? Maybe she wouldn't want me to do that? Was that the reason for why it was under the bed? Because she didn't want me to find it? I thought about it for a while before thinking "What the hell." and opening it. The box was full of pictures. I recognized some of the pictures from being from our dates together, but most of them was just of me. It was literally just of me doing the most domestic things ever, like cooking or cleaning. I look through the pictures for a while before seeing a smaller box inside the box. I can feel my hands shaking as I go to pick up the box. I open the box and see the most gorgeous ring I've ever seen. I take it out of the box and try it on. It fits perfectly.

I immediately pick up the phone.

"In how long can you come over?" I ask.

………………….

A/N: The other parts of this series are going to be longer, this was just a start of it.

[weirdfishy]

gotta urgent need for some not-quite-yet punkflower where hobie is chillin in some rubble post-(successful) battle all knackered out n miles is visiting (idk bc he just told his parents abt spiderman n it went well so he's bursting at the seems with love at being accepted n all yea? he's gotta tell someone, and why not him? why not hobie? it's no one else but hobie he's gotta tell, if he's being honest with himself [denile is not a river in his egypt, ok pav?] so yeah, he finds himself on 138) n catches the tail end of the battle, tracks down where hobie decided to make a couch outta concrete and lands in front of him, buzzing with cheezy lovey dovey feelins of elation, top o' the fucken world, and asks on abt hobie, rambling until hobie just lifts a hand, a silent ask for help up, (always asking for connection always makin sure they're actually there) n miles, have i mentioned he's happy? he's straight up a sap, so he takes that hand.

he takes that hand gently, bending at the waist a bit, dramatically sweeping back his other arm, bowing, for hell's sake, n plants a kiss on the back of hobie's hand, nice n proper, with a cheeky wink to boot (he'd finally fixed the eye mechanisms last week, thanks to penny), before pulling up new london's own spiderman chest to chest with a bright laugh that puts a different kind of stars in hobie's eyes, half dancing half belting out a song in spanish he doesn't quite understand but knows all the words to (it's some continental dialect, nothing his mami speaks, but would filter out the headphones of that kid in his building he walked w in middle school everyday)

before the sirens start getting closer n hobie can feel the warmth of miles-- the warmth of his smile, his hair that's still sparking from transdimensional travel, his arms, chest, laughter, everything, n all at once it pulls every affectionate n pining bit of hobie to the surface, if he weren't wearing his mask his blush would be so impossibly visible it's straight mad how much hobie loves n adores miles, how much seeing miles be happy lights hobie's whole fucking world

and oh, hobie's never seen a god he didn't punch, never believed in any one he couldn't, but right now, with his fingers entwined with miles', aches leaving his bones like he's never felt his left shoulder twinge the second it drops below 21 just because miles just yelled fuck off to the approaching pigs, he could fall to his knees n swear pious fealty to milesmilesmiles.

but hobie is cool (never has a label stuck to him like the one miles has given him), and his real, livin n breathing god is starting to ramble, so hobie webs them upupup, heat along his back as god wraps arms around him, breath on his neck as home weaves tales into the leather wrapping it.

then miles hears hobie's stomach growl, so he starts pulling them away from the path of what he knows is towards hobie's flat, and towards what he swears is the only good puerto rican food in the whole of hobie's haunt, his excitement steamrolling over his usual stuttering spanish, exchanging shouts n jeers with everyone behind the counter

bc everyone knows him, like miles has lived here, earth-138, new london, his whole life, like hobie brown being dragged into the shop every other week by miles morales to get the same two plates (n an extra something for miles to gush over n hobie to taste) is how the rest of this life will go, like hobie n miles are together, in a way that the unsubtle looks the owner's kid at the register is aiming at miles' left hand are correct, but don't involve stuffy socially religious systems like marriage

but they're not, as much as hobie would love to kiss miles, gaze into his eyes for ages, hear his laughter, his off-key singing, his scritch-scritch of something on paper everyday-- bc he can't go abt this like he does everyone else, can't do it with half a foot out the door n a shrug as agreed; it's gotta be both feet on the floor, n it's gotta be for the rest of this life, so he'll take what he can get, and he'll take the distance n devotion, take the faith n the heartache. take what he can get from his god, glad to be touched by his god, glad to be loved by his god, across universes n the fall from his bed to the futon on the floor where miles decides to lay his head for choice holy nights

(hobie doesn't know miles is putting himself at the base of his god's shrine, hoping for his deity to fall into his arms, spikes n all, (ready, so ready to tear apart dimensions again for hobie, to bleed and cry n go to war for hobie) fingers splaying on the side of the mattress warmwarmwarm after hobie starts snoring, before they slip down softly, a prayer imparting from the pads, memorizing the patterns of his god's breath, the smell of the room, the borrowed shirt he wears, the sounds of a second city he calls home, thrumming full with a bass note plucked from an electric guitar, usually shaky hands sure n still picking out a different shape to hobie's eyebrow piercing, deftly screwing a star onto the bar. miles brings offerings to his god in pins n patches on clothing, stickers n torn out sketches decorating a shrine)

so they'll song n dance in new york, in new london; learning each other's cities, earths, haunts, people, arts, each other, like new scars for the collection- permanent and signs of living, odes to loving and protecting.

chest to chest, fingers entwined, warmth in the skies above cities, right on the edge of it all until they fall together, eyes wide open, gods broken down into blood and teeth and lovelovelove

not-quite-yet 2 - 3

. my ko-fi 💛

ao3 link

[justmystyles]

hi! your angst is so so good! could you please write something angsty around the Selena Gomez song “Lose You to Love Me” kind of about a girl learning to love herself after a toxic love with Harry and then them reuniting after growing up years later, please?

Lose You to Love Me

read my other work here

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

word count: 4.2k

summary: a run-in with your childhood sweetheart brings up old memories, and lingering feelings.

a/n: my friend, you have no idea what you've done sending this ask in. technically you do, because I posted about it after i received it. but this song popped into my head a little over a week ago, and has been running up there on repeat. it's been making me think about my life and relationships, and being all reflective or whatever. i hate it. 😂

I have been thinking about this story pretty much non-stop since you sent the ask, and was so exited to finally get it written. i hope it's what you were looking for, and that you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it.

also, a note about the story, the italicized parts are flashbacks.

i know we’re on all on edge after last night, so why not throw some angst in there to make it worse!

tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @lexiecamposv @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

As you moved through the streets of London, you were so focused on making it to your destination that you weren’t paying attention to the faces passing you by. 

But he was, and he recognized yours immediately. 

“Y/N?” 

You froze in place, causing the person walking behind you to crash into you. You apologized and stepped off to the side, looking in the direction of the voice. “Harry,” you breathed out. 

Before you could fully process what was happening, Harry had rushed up to you, pulling you into his arms. You closed your eyes, even after all this time he still gave the best hugs. Your mind flashed with memories of all the times you found yourself in his arms. Good and bad. 

“I can’t believe it’s you!” He spoke against your neck before pulling back, taking your hands in his as he looked you up and down. “You look amazing. All grown up.” 

“Yeah, you too.” You took him in, he had definitely filled out since the last time you saw him. Of course you knew that, no matter how hard you tried to get away from him, you never could get that clean break you so desired. That’s what happens when your ex is one of the biggest stars in the world. 

“Gosh, it’s been ages.” He muses. 

You purse your lips and nod. “Eleven years.” You feel a knot in your stomach, thinking back to the last time you two spoke. 

“Harry, it’s just not fair to me.” You move the speaker away from your mouth, hoping he doesn’t hear your breath hitch.

“And you think you’re being fair to me? This is my dream, Y/N, and I can’t even enjoy it because I’ve got you making me feel bad, or like I’m doing something wrong every time I talk to you!” 

“Yeah, well you were my dream.” Your voice is quiet, defeated. “But I guess it’s time for me to wake up.” 

Harry is silent on the other end of the phone for a moment. “What,” he lets out a deep breath. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

You wipe your eyes, sniffling softly. “It means I can’t do this anymore. You’re living your life, you’re finding your way in the world. I need to go off and do the same. Alone.” 

Harry gives you a sad smile. “I tried to reach out a few times, I didn’t like how we left things.”

“I know, me either.” You agreed. “But I needed to just sever the tie. It would have been too hard otherwise.” 

“I’m sorry,” you look at him curiously. “For how I handled things, for how it ended…”

You held your hand up to stop him. “We were just kids, you were eighteen and an international pop star, you handled things as best you could.” 

He smiled gratefully at you. “Do you, uh… do you have some time? Maybe we could grab a coffee and catch up?” 

Your mind is begging you to say no, but your mouth doesn’t listen, agreeing immediately. “But I’ll pass on the coffee.’ 

“Still?” He smirks, remembering how much you hated coffee. “Some things never change.” 

****

The two of you order drinks, and get settled at a quiet corner table in a small coffee shop, the conversation starts off simple enough, you catch each other up on your families, you tell him about your career, and how you had relocated to London three years ago for a big promotion. He shares a couple of stories of some of his more memorable moments over the years. 

Even after a decade apart, you still managed to fall into conversation with ease. From the moment you had met when you were kids, there was this instant comfort between the two of you. It was no surprise to anyone when you started dating at fifteen. You were inseparable, going everywhere together. You were there at his XFactor audition, you supported him every step of the way. It was when things really started taking off for him that everything changed. 

“Hi angel,” Harry’s voice was low and raspy, that’s when you realized you forgot to take the time change into consideration before you called. 

“Oh my gosh H, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up, I–”

You’re cut off by his laughter. “It’s alright, I like when you wake me up.​​ To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“Mum is taking me dress shopping for formal today, I just wanted to see if you had any ideas what you’d be wearing. We could coordinate!” There was a long silence as you waited for him to respond. “Harry?” You asked. Maybe he had fallen back to sleep. 

“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry.” You could hear him shifting on the other end of the phone. “I have some bad news actually.” He sighed before continuing. “They booked us a bunch of shows in the US, I’m not going to be able to come home for the dance.” 

“Oh,” you did your best to mask the disappointment. It was just a dance, Harry was doing amazing things, and you needed to be supportive of that. 

“Angel, I’m so sorry, I really tried…” 

“No, don’t worry. It’s fine, really.” You assured him while also trying to assure yourself. 

You heard a knocking on the other side of the phone, and muffled voices. “Fuck, I’ve gotta go Y/N. I’m so sorry, I love you. You know that, right?” 

“Yeah, I know H. I love you too.” 

“Okay, we’ll talk soon. I promise.” The call disconnects before you can respond. 

That was the beginning of the end for your young love. You had put on a happy face for everyone, especially Harry, but your family and friends were able to see right through it. He probably would have too had he actually been there. 

You ended up going to your formal with your friends, but as they danced and laughed, you sat on the sidelines, staring at your phone waiting for a call or a text from Harry. And that’s what your life became from there on. 

When Harry would come home, things would be better, but still not what it was. Because he’d be gone for such long stretches, his time was spread so thin when he was home. He would want to spend time with everyone, which didn’t leave enough time for the two of you. You would tag along as much as you could, but your one on one time was lacking. It got to a point where you couldn’t even go out on dates, constantly being bombarded by people asking for pictures or autographs. 

That’s when you decided to spend your time behind closed doors. Harry said it was so he could focus on you, but part of you wondered if it was so that he could keep you secret. You knew that there were girls all over the world that wanted to be with him, his team knew that was part of the marketability of him, of the whole group. The second the two of you stopped hanging out publicly, the insecurities started creeping in. From then on, every time you saw a picture of him with another girl, you wondered who she was, why it was okay for him to be seen with her and not you. 

As the two of you continued to talk, you glanced down at your watch. “Oh shit,” you interrupt him. “I’m so sorry Harry, I actually have to go. I have a meeting I need to get to.” You stand from your seat and collect your things. Harry stands with you.

“Yeah, of course.” You could have sworn there was a hint of disappointment in his tone. “Hey, you should come to the show tonight. If you’re free I mean.” 

You look up at him with wide eyes. “Are you sure?” 

“Of course, it’s Wembley. How many times did we talk about this?” 

“A lot,” you smile wistfully, remembering those conversations. Whenever he was feeling discouraged about his journey, you would always be right there to pick him up, assuring him it was going to work out. That he’d be onstage at the famed stadium, and you’d be right there cheering him on. 

“It would mean a lot to me to have you there. Full circle and all that.” He said with a smile. “Besides, the whole family is going to be there. I’m sure mum and Gem would love to see you.” 

It would be nice to see his family again. You had been all but officially adopted into the clan, spending holidays, dinners, birthdays with them. You were at Harry’s house just as much as you were at your own, possibly more. Sure, you had mourned the loss of your relationship with Harry, but it also broke you that you lost that second family. 

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be there.” You agree. 

“Amazing.” He pulled you in for a tight hug. “I’ll see you tonight. Just check in at the box office when you get there, I’ll take care of everything.” 

****

You made it to your meeting on time, but you were anything but present. Your mind kept going back to Harry, how great he looked, how happy he was to see you. And then the memories started flooding back. 

“Y/N?” Your mother’s voice and gentle knock on the door call your attention away from your phone. 

“Yeah?” 

She sticks her head into your room. “We’re leaving in five minutes, are you ready?” 

“Ready?” You suddenly remember that your parents were supposed to be taking you and your sister out to dinner. “Oh, I uh… no. I think I’m going to pass if that’s okay?” 

“But honey, we’re going to your favorite restaurant.” You could see the concern spread across her face. 

“I know, but Harry is supposed to call and check in. We haven’t had a proper phone date in weeks. I want to make sure I don’t miss him.” 

“Y/N…” your mother says in a warning tone. After Harry missed out on formal, you had completely changed. You’d go to school, and then immediately come home waiting to hear from him. You would drop everything the second his name popped up on your phone screen.

“Mum, next time. I promise.” 

Your mother lets out a sigh and nods, leaving you alone. 

About an hour later, your phone pinged with a text from Harry. 

Sorry love, can’t call tonight. Talk to you soon, promise. XO

****

After your meeting, you slipped out of the office. You knew you weren’t going to get anything done today. Besides, you needed to find something to wear tonight. You called Heather, your oldest and closest friends, asking her to meet you at one of your favorite shops. 

You told her about your run-in with Harry, and his invitation to go to his show. 

“You said no, right?” 

“Yeah, I said no. That’s why we’re here, you’re helping me pick an outfit for a concert I’m not going to.” you rolled your eyes.  

“Y/N, I say this as your friend, this is a terrible idea and you definitely shouldn’t go.” She says completely seriously. “Do you even remember what life was like for you back then?” 

“Come on!” Heather grabbed your arm, trying to pull you out of the booth. “Come dance with us!”

You pull out of her grip, checking your phone for a notification. “I can’t H-”

“Harry’s going to call,” she finishes your sentence. “Y/N, you’re both my friends, but you’re my best friend, so I’m going to be real with you. Harry’s a wakner.”

“Hey,” you reply defensively. “He is not, he’s just really busy. He’s kind of a big deal, you know?”

“I do know. And I also know that while you’re sitting here staring at your phone, you’re missing out on life. But he’s out there living it. You deserve better than that.” 

“Right, and in a couple of months I’ll be living that life with him.” 

Heather’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?” 

“I’m not going to university.” You state plainly, her eyes go wide in shock. “Harry is going to get me a job on his team. It won’t be glamorous, and it probably won’t pay much, but we’ll be together and everything will be good again.” 

“Have you told your parents about this plan?”

“I have, they aren’t happy about it, but I’m eighteen, so there isn’t really anything they can do about it.” 

“And you really think this is the best idea?” She asks you.

“Yes,” you say, a little louder than intended but you needed to get your point across. “Harry and I are supposed to be together, and if this is how it needs to happen, this is how it’s going to happen.” You grab your purse and stand from your seat. “I’m going home, it’s too loud here for me to hear him anyway.” 

After that, you stopped going out when your friends invited you. They didn’t understand your relationship, and they were always on your case about it. It was easier to just stay home and wait for Harry. Eventually, the invitations stopped coming. You were fine with that. It made it easier for you to focus on Harry, and be there when he had time for you. 

As far as the job, that never happened. About a week after you graduated, you received a call from Harry. He told you that he fought for you, all the guys did, but his team said they weren’t able to make a spot for you. 

You were devastated, but you did your best to hide it from him. That didn’t last very long, however, as that was the point where the cracks in your facade of ‘supportive girlfriend’ started coming through. You started seeing what everyone had been telling you, that Harry was out there conquering the world while you were putting your life on hold, spending your life by the phone waiting for a quick text or five minute phone call.

****

When you arrived at Wembley, you gave your name at the window and were immediately ushered to a backstage VIP area. You walked in and smiled to yourself at the turnout. You recognized almost everyone in the room. You stayed by the door, not wanting to interrupt when Gemma’s eyes traveled in your direction, She did a double take before smiling wide and running to you. 

“Y/N, I can’t believe it!” She pulled you into a tight hug, which you quickly returned. “Harry told us he ran into you, and invited you to the show. But I wasn’t sure you’d actually come!” 

You giggled at her excitement. “Of course I’m here, I told him I’d come.” 

“I know, but you’re so nice, I figured you’d say that to his face and then just disappear.” You both laughed, before she took you by the hand, leading you into the group. “Come on, we have so much to catch up on!” 

You went around the room, greeting those you had known a decade ago, and meeting the new members of Harry’s entourage. Everyone was so happy to see you, you were being pulled in a million different directions trying to catch up with everyone. They had told you that Harry was with them earlier, but had to leave to get ready. You were grateful for that. It would have been too much to be there with him, and his family. 

**** When it was time to go out to the front of house, Gemma locked her arm in yours and you walked together. She stayed by your side the whole night. The two of you were always close, she had always treated you like you were sisters. Often joking that someday Harry would make it official. She made you promise not to leave without giving her your number, she said she wasn’t about to let another ten years go by without seeing you again. 

The show was incredible. Harry was incredible. As you watched him up there, you felt your chest swell with pride. Despite what had transpired between the two of you, you couldn’t help but get emotional watching him live the dream that the two of you had spent so much time talking about. He had done it, but on a level that neither of you could have even imagined. 

As you listened on, your mind wandered, thinking about the girls those songs were about. The girls that had come after you. You felt tears begin to pool in your eyes as you remembered the first one. 

“Come on guys, put it away. Y/N is going to be here any minute.” You heard Heather plead. “This is her first time out since the breakup, she doesn’t need to see it.” 

After the phone call where you ended your relationship, you were inconsolable. You cried nonstop, mourning your relationship, the future you were supposed to have, and all the time you wasted waiting for him. Your friends would come over often, but they would mostly just hold you and offer words of encouragement to you as you cried. Nobody was able to get through to you, they weren’t even sure how. 

About two months after the breakup, you got this surge of determination. Harry had taken away enough of your life, you weren’t going to let him do it anymore. You texted Heather, and she agreed to gather all your friends for dinner. 

You walked in and saw her trying to pull the phone out of her boyfriend’s hands. “What don’t I need to see?” You ask, everyone’s attention snapping to you. 

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” Heather assured you. 

You nodded, leaning in to hug your friend, quickly diverting and grabbing the phone out of her hand. You looked down at the screen and saw a paparazzi shot of Harry walking hand in hand with Taylor Swift, it was an article about the budding relationship between the two singers. 

“Oh,” you said, dropping the phone on the table. “I uh… I just remembered I’ve got to…” your brain was too cloudy to come up with an excuse, not that they would believe it anyway. You turned and rushed out of the restaurant. Heather hot on your heels. 

“Y/N, wait!” She followed you as you ducked into a nearby alleyway, getting to you just in time to watch your back slide down the wall. 

You wrapped your arms around your knees and began sobbing uncontrollably. Heather sat down next to you, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and pulling you into her. 

“I… he… I…” You couldn’t form words, too upset to do anything but cry. 

“I know babe, I know.” Heather said in a soft tone, rubbing your back comfortably. “I told you he was a wanker.” 

You chuckled lightly, your breathing starting to return to normal. You looked up at your friend with tear stained cheeks, your breath hitching as you regained composure. “We just broke up. I’ve been locked in my room crying, and he’s been with her.” 

“He’s a piece of shit. He doesn’t deserve you. You’re so much better than all of this.” She held your face in her hands and gave you a determined look. “You’re a fucking catch Y/N, he’s an idiot for not seeing that.” You nod, pretending you agree with her. “Let’s get you home. We’ll get a bunch of junk food and watch sad movies. Get all the tears out.” 

“Hey Y/N, you alright?” Gemma pulls you from your thoughts. 

You suddenly realize the house lights are up, and people are filing out of the stadium. “Oh yeah, sorry. It’s just crazy to think that he went from the weird boy with the dumb jokes to that,” you gesture toward the stage.

“Oh, he’s still the weird boy, he’s just telling his dumb jokes to a whole lot more people.” She joked, slinging her arm around your shoulder. “C’mon, let’s go backstage.” 

“Oh, no no no, you go. I should…”

“Not a chance,” she interrupted you. “You’ve gotta come back and see him.” You narrow your eyes at her, wondering why it was so important that you see him, but she just smiles innocently and leads you back to the VIP room. 

****

You and Gemma get comfortable on a couch in the back corner of the room, so lost in conversation that you don’t even notice when all eyes in the room land on the door, cheering Harry as he enters. He walks through, offering hugs and handshakes, thanking people for coming and graciously receiving compliments on his performance. 

Once he’s made his way to the back, he stops, silently observing you and his sister gossiping and giggling just like you always had. 

“You’d better not be talking about me, or I’m telling mum.” His voice pulls you from your conversation, and you both turn to look at him. 

Gemma grins and jumps from her seat. “You were outstanding.” She pulled him into a hug, saying something to him in a hushed tone. 

He smiled gratefully at her as she sat back down, Harry turned to you with a curious expression. “Well? What did you think?” 

“H,” his nickname fell so easily from your lips, as if you had never been apart. You stood up, looking at him with so much awe that he was taken aback. “You did it. I’m so,” you sigh with a shrug. “It was incredible.” 

He smiled, dimples on full display. “Thank you, angel. You have no idea what that means to me.” He steps in front of you, pulling you into a firm embrace. You were so lost in the moment that it didn’t even register that he had called you by his pet name for you. 

Gemma stood behind you, making sure to get Harry’s attention, she winked at him with a smirk before matriculating back into the crowd, allowing you two a moment. 

When you finally separated, Harry looked down at you, his gaze so intense that you felt your cheeks heating up. “I should probably go,” you finally speak up.

“No, wait.” He says in a panicked tone. “Can I talk to you alone for a minute?” 

You furrow your brow, not expecting that. He’s in a room full of the most important people in his life, and he wants to be alone with you? “Yeah, sure.”

He leads you out of the VIP area and down the hall to his dressing room. He opens the door, signaling for you to enter. He follows behind you, closing the door once you both cross the threshold. 

You both stand there awkwardly for a few moments before Harry finally breaks the silence. “I’m really glad you came tonight.” 

“Me too, thank you for inviting me.” You smile, trying to hide your nerves. 

“I, uh…” he takes a breath, running his hand through his hair. “I miss you.” 

You look up at him in confusion. “Harry, it’s been eleven years.” 

“And I’ve missed you the entire time.” He took a couple of cautious steps towards you. “I was so stupid back then, so stupid. I know I wasn’t fair to you.” 

“I told you, it’s fine, you were a kid. You did the best you could.” You assured him.

“I think running into you today was fate.” He ignores your words and keeps going. “We’ve both grown up, I’ve grown up. I see what’s important in life now.” 

“Harry…” 

“There were so many times I wanted to call you. So many things that happened that I wanted to celebrate with you, but I couldn’t. Every sold out show, every award, all of it, you were the first person I wanted to tell.” 

You were speechless. You were listening to his words, watching the vulnerability in his face, all of it completely overwhelming you. Out of everything that could have come from your run in with Harry, this was probably the last thing you would have expected. 

“I don’t… what?” Was all you managed to choke out. 

“Listen, I’m not saying we jump right back in and pick up where we left off,” your eyes went wide at his words. “I broke your trust, that’s something I need to earn back. But I’d like to try, if you’d let me.” 

“Try…”

He reached out, taking your hand and sighing in relief when you didn’t pull away. “I want to show you that I can be what you need, what you deserve.” 

“What are you asking?” You ask, searching his face as if it held the answers. 

“I just want to be in your life again, be your friend. I want to get to know you now, I want you to get to know me now, and see where things go from there.” 

You stood in silence, looking into Harry’s eyes, butterflies filling your stomach at the way he’s looking at you. You nod your head slowly. “Okay,” you respond, barely above a whisper. 

“Yeah?” He asks hopefully, you nod with a smile and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. “Thank you thank you thank you. I promise I’m not going to mess this up.” You chuckle against his chest. “What’s so funny?” 

“Heather is going to kill me.” 

A bark of laughter escapes him. “I’ll protect you,” he places a kiss on the top of your head. “I’m not going to lose you again.” 

[papaya-queen]

THE ALCHEMY – Paul Aron x Y/N

Hey ! I've written some new stuff ! This is a Paul Aron x reader inspired by the song The Alchemy by Taylor Swift. As always, if there's any mistakes please tell me. Hope you like it :)

word count : 1011

Paul was one of the best rookies the F2 championship had seen in a while. Having at least one podium every weekend, leading the championship... The list of achievement was long, enough to make Mercedes regret their decision of letting him go. Having one the F1 team practically begging for you to back to their academy was a great feeling but something was missing. Something that would make enough impact for him to be considerate in the F1 seats for the next season.

His maiden win

He wanted to come out on the market as a winner and not only a good driver. He would prove to everyone that he could go to F1. He wanted to bash Mercedes and go elsewhere. He had the car, the talent, the confidence, he just needed the moment. Now, for the Silverstone Grand Prix, he was more determined than ever. Especially with his girl in the crowd.

Y/N and Paul were high school sweethearts. They met in an assemble one time, becoming friends, best friends. Eventually, one time after class, Paul had the confidence to ask the girl on a date. You could say it went well. They were now together for almost 3 years. When they graduated, Y/N started going to Uni, she wanted to become an engineer in motorsport. She could not attend all of Paul’s races, but they made it work. She went to one or two weekends and Paul would always fly back to Tallinn. They supported each other like no one. Paul would always talk about your great achievements in Uni and Y/N could not stop yapping about her boy leading the F2 Championship. She was more than exited to finally come to a race. The finals ended and she was enjoying her break. Paul and she choose Silverstone as their together race weekend.

They took the plane to London early in the week to spend a few days off. Enjoying the beauty of England, shopping, chilling together. They got I ❤️ London matching shirts, took pictures, ate in restaurants. Living like a normal couple. Sometimes, a fan or two would interrupt their time but they were the kindest heart, always took the pictures and chatted a little.

Friday came fast. Paul was in the Hitech motorhome, preparing his qualification session, putting his fireproofs on, training his reflexes, revising the track. Y/N was chilling on the couch, watching her boy. He settled newt to her, leaning in her touch as she started brushing his blonde curls.

“You’re going to kill this, love!” she said. They cuddled on the couch for a long time before the quali. Inevitably, Paul had to go in the car. Y/N followed him, helping with his helmet, reassuring him as much as she could.

He went out in quali, easily passing Q1 with the best time. He continued the quali confident, setting yet again the best time in Q2. Then in Q3, he pushed the car to the limit, setting an incredibly good lap. Ollie came with a better lap just after. With only 1:00 left, Paul went and pushed the car again. He gained time in every sector, hopping it would be enough to take the pole. As he finished his lap, his engineer screamed in the radio:

“AND THAT’S POLE POSITION,1.2 SECOND AHEAD OF P2!”

-

The result of the sprint race was okay. With the reversed grid he was starting P10 and finished P7, grabbing points for his standing. The feature race was starting. From the Hitech garage, Y/N was staring at the screen, hoping that nothing would disturb her boy’s race. He was leading, putting time between him and the second driver. The pit stop was quick, and he did not lose any position just time between him and Ollie who tried to get him. She was holding her breath for the last ten laps. Everything was going so well. Ollie was far behind. Y/N knew it was over for him to try for P1. Paul was pushing even more than before, getting the fastest lap and even more time on Ollie. He crossed the finish line as first and Y/N started crying. She ran outside the garage with the engineers and team. They started chanting his name as he parked behind the P1 sign. He ran over to the team, lifted in the air by all the mechanics. Ollie and Kimi arrived in P2 and P3 and joined the celebration. Even if they were rivals now, they still are teenage boys and best friend. Paul was so involved in his team and friends’ celebrations; he didn’t saw his girlfriend before he climbed the first step of the podium. The tears were still flowing Y/N’s cheeks as the Estonian anthem resonated. She was so proud of her boyfriend. As soon as the anthem ended, Ollie and Kimi grabbed their Champagne bottle and opened them in sink to spray the winner. Paul was drenched in champagne by his friends, eyes closed, stepping down the podium, blinded by the alcohol. He finally managed to dry his face, opening his eyes again. He saw his girl with his team, and he knew he could not wait any longer. He ran down the stairs to the track, leaving Ollie, Kimi, his trophy on the podium. He grabbed Y/N and put her down in front of him. Her hand on his cheeks, his hands in her hair, the slight smell of champagne in the air, the people watching.

“I’m so proud of you, love” she said pressing her forehead against his.

“You’re my lucky charm, Kallis!” He responded before kissing his girlfriend.

The moment was truly magical, like a Disney kind of kiss. All romantic with their friends, the team, the public cheering for them. All of this ruined by Kimi’s idea of pouring the rest of his champagne bottle on the young couple from the podium. Paul and Y/N laughed it off, they could not care more when they were having the moment of their life, looking at each other with the biggest heart eyes.

[ughgoaway]

we went to winter wonderland // day 2

content warnings; swearing maybe? I think that's it??

a/n; day 2!!! I have only been to Winter Wonderland like once, so if this is inaccurate... oops! but I did have a good time despite it being a bit shit, which is how I felt writing this fic too lol. also I did use a quote in here I saw online, but I can not for the life of me find who wrote it, as soon as I do, I will edit this and credit them!!! <3

word count; 2k

(this fic takes place pre-relationship)

12 days masterlist

✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿

“Alexa! Play Daddy's song!!” Matty hears his daughter shouting at the Alexa from the kitchen. He smirks to himself once he understands what she means.

Matty was careful what songs he showed Annie, knowing she was at the age of endless questions, and he didn't exactly feel like explaining the intricacies of some of his songs. 

But last week, Matty had to run into a meeting and left Annie in the studio with Ross and George. As they sat there and planned the setlist, any time Annie heard the title of a song she didn't know, she would pipe up and say, “What does that one sound like?” and either George or Ross would play a small bit of the song. When Me and You Together song was brought up, they thought it was about as harmless as 75 songs can get, so they played the whole song for her.

They watched her eyes light up as the song played, and by the end, she was dancing around the room with them both and singing along, but once it stopped, she asked for it again. And again. And again. Now it was a week later, and Matty was sick of the sound of his own voice, which is not something he thought was possible.

As Matty strolls into the front room to see Annie looking grumpy at the Alexa for not understanding her request, he scoops her up and sits on the sofa with her on his lap. She shrieks as he picks her up and crosses her arms over her chest once she's sat down. 

“Annie, sweetheart, im so glad you like my song, but im not sure we need to listen to it again,” Matty says gently, trying not to upset his daughter. Annie huffs in his lap and immediately pouts, and it almost breaks him. But he manages to stay strong. 

“Why don't we do something else instead, hmm? You could show me some of your new toys? We can even play Barbies if you like?” Matty says, trying to bargain with Annie. He wasn't very good at the whole discipline side of parenting. But how could he be when Annie gives him those puppy dog eyes and a shaky bottom lip?

But before either of those comes out, her face lights up with an idea, and Matty knows that doesn't bode well. “Okay, we can stop listening to my most favourite song if we can go to Winter Wonderland like it says!!” Annie says, stressing most favourite in an attempt to guilt trip her dad, and it works.

They had gone to Winter Wonderland last year, and Annie had the time of her life. Some of the kiddy rides made Matty feel his age though, and after a 3rd go on the teacups, he had to sit stationary for a good 15 minutes. Despite that, that day was one of Matty's favourite days with Annie, seeing her face brighten at the rides and all the people, watching her sit on Santa's lap and ask him for a new dog, “my doggy mayhem needs a friend!!” but nothing compared to their trip on the Ferris wheel. 

Watching the skyline of London reflect in her eyes was a sight Matty would never forget, her giddiness as she tried to spot their house (she insisted she found it, and who is Matty to disagree?) and the different colours of light slide over her ecstatic face. The purple and pink lights shining in her wide eyes as she stared at the people below giggling was the highlight of his Christmas. 

Annie sat on his lap as they went down on the wheel, and before they even reached the bottom, she was fast asleep in his arms. Watching her eyes flutter on the train home made Matty's heart swell in a new way. He didn't think he could love something this much.

So when she asked, Matty couldn't help but nod his head and get attacked with hugs and squeals.

////////////////////

The sun had gone down about 20 minutes ago, and Annie was determined it was now time to go on the Ferris wheel, “I need to see all the pretty lights, Daddy!” she says, dragging Matty over to the queue.

Matty laughed and followed behind her. A giant stuffed bear obstructed his view slightly, but he blindly trusted Annie's directions. After a long day of rides and fairground games, Matty wouldn't mind a gentle spin around the Ferris wheel.

Little did he know you were thinking the exact same thing, only a few people ahead of him in the queue. 

You hadn't planned to go to Winter Wonderland that day, not even thinking about it before you were in central London. But on the tube, you saw a poster and suddenly felt drawn to it. The hustle and bustle of people and the decorations were sure to make you feel a bit less shit. 

You couldn't go to Christmas at home this year, not being able to travel due to severe weather warnings, so you went up to your mum's house a few weeks before for an early Christmas dinner. It sounded like a good idea at the time, but how wrong you were.

The whole family was invited, and you were inundated with questions about a significant other, “Oh do you have a boyfriend yet love?”

And then, having to cope with the sad eyes and the pity after you say no, “Oh don't worry, sweetheart. It'll happen for you eventually.” 

They all said the same thing, pity followed by an attempted set-up, “Actually… if you're still single, there's a lovely young man I work with that would be perfect for you!” 

And thus the spiel began, describing a man who you're sure is nice enough but definitely wasn't perfect for you. Even if he was, you couldn't date right now anyway. You were well and truly stuck on Matty.

You can't think of anyone else. Your head is full of him. Your heart is full of him. You think of him when you wake up, what he's doing right now. Whether he's making breakfast for Annie, or maybe if he's at the studio already. Throughout the day, small things remind you of him. The guitar that sits in the corner of your room, an abandoned attempt at a hobby, now sat as nothing but a reminder of the man you were violently in love with. You turned on the radio each day to distract yourself, but now something as basic as music has you yearning for him. One day, as you were getting ready to go out, one of his songs came on, and you froze on the spot. You didn't end up going out that day. You stayed home and ached over a man who you could never have. 

The worst time was at night. You lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the ticking of the clock teasing you. Reminding you that each minute you don't sleep translates to an hour of grumpiness tomorrow morning. But you couldn't help it. Your mind was swimming in him. You thought of lying in bed together, chatting, and giggling. And falling asleep in his arms. You'd be able to listen to his heartbeat rather than the tick tok of that fucking clock.

So you lie, you say to your aunts, “Oh I don't need romance! Im perfectly happy.” But you say you don't need love like a woman on a diet says she doesn't want dessert, you long for it but you don't think you deserve it. 

To try and distract yourself, you dragged yourself out of bed and into central London. The poster convinced you, and soon enough, you were standing in front of Hyde Park with a ticket booked. 

For a solo adult, you had a pretty fun day, going around to all the stalls and buying unnecessary treats for you and your loved ones. You ate some overpriced food and went on a few rides. But you were waiting until the sun had set for your favourite activity, the Ferris wheel. 

You get loaded onto a carriage, and you hear the ride operator ushering more people on saying, “There's only one in here so you two can join her, okay?” You keep focused on the view outside, not too worried about who you're going to be spending the trip around with.

That was until the door shut, and you heard a breathy voice say, “Hi.” 

Why do you recognise that voice? Oh- OH. you turn, and you're met with the same pair of eyes that run through your mind all night, the same eyes that seem to follow you wherever you go.

A few hard blinks later, you assure yourself you're not dreaming, that is Matty Healy standing in front of you with a bear almost the same size as his daughter.

Speaking of his daughter, you catch her in your arms moments later, Annie had thrown herself in to hug you; clearly over the moon with your presence.

“Well hi guys!” You say, somehow managing to keep your voice even, “So nice to see you both” Your eyes flick from Annie's up to Matty, who simply nods, dumbfounded. 

You make a slightly awkward conversation with the two of them, both you and Matty reeling from the surprise encounter. But Annie wasn't phased, easily recounting her whole day to you and laughing when she detailed how ill Matty got on the teacups. 

“In my defence,” Matty says, already smiling at your poorly suppressed giggles, “they spin really fast, okay! Im getting too old for teacups,” he says with a flick of his hand.

Just as you say, “No!” Annie says, “Yes! Too olddddd” dragging out the last letter. All of you burst out laughing, Matty gives Annie a pinch and calls her cheeky.

Once you reached the top, you, Matty, and Annie all quieted down and stared out at the view, all immersed in the London skyline sparkling back at you. Annie stood below you with her face pressed into the window as you and Matty had a quiet conversation. 

“I always wait until it's dark to come up here, I love the lights too much to come up during the day” you whisper to Matty.

You don't turn your head to face him until the silence is too much, and you almost jump when you see him already looking at you. 

But all Matty wanted to do was look at you. The way the lights glittered in your eyes, your smile as they flicked over the view. The way you squinted and leaned in closer, trying to figure out what landmark you were looking at. He especially loved the way your hand was subconsciously stroking Annie's back the whole time. 

He felt like a real fucking family. And god, it hurt. 

Nevertheless, he couldn't stop staring at you, willing to endure any pain if it meant he could continue living in this delusion he had created. 

Any beautiful view was lost on the two of you now, just staring at each other with dopey smiles on your faces. Tracing each feature with your eyes, desperate to memorise this. To live it over and over again. 

Annie tugged at her dad's leg, and that finally pulled his attention back. You were nearly at the bottom of the wheel, and Annie's eyes were heavy with sleep. She rubbed at her face with closed fists and then stuck her arms up. Matty immediately scooped her up and held her close, letting her eyes shut and resting her head on his shoulder. She was falling asleep in a matter of seconds.

Neither of you spoke on the small remainder of the journey, not wanting to wake her up. But as he walked off trying to balance both Annie and the bear, Matty gave you a small smile and a wave. You did the same and walked in the opposite direction.

That night, it wasn't just you staring at your ceiling. Matty was up until 3 am watching the moonlight dance and fantasising about the life he had for 10 minutes. A life with you.

[pruesgaultier]

a declaration of feelings

desc: singer agatha x actress rio. rio is away filming a movie and agatha writes a song (it’s totally not a love song.)

song used: forever, in this moment.

a/n: welcome to the first installment of my agathario song fic series where I write one shots based on songs from my agathario playlist ! i won't be taking reqs bc i get busy with work and i don't want the pressure of trying to give myself deadlines or trying to feel for songs I don't know, maybe in the future. for now, this is just low stakes fun.

Agatha Harkness sighed as she sat in her home studio surrounded by papers, sheet music and half-written verses alike. She had already tried her usual methods of focusing which included but were not limited to brain-dumping on a white board, petting Senor Scratchy like a Bond villain, writing bad lyrics to good music and good lyrics to bad music, but her mind was too preoccupied. Instead of writing a new song for her band Coven of Chaos’s new album, all she could think of was her girlfriend. Almost 3 years ago, Rio Vidal swept into Agatha’s life like a hurricane and she hated it. 

Well, not really. She hated how Rio not only made her feel other emotions, but she made her want to show them. It wasn’t a super drastic change, but she was much nicer than she used to be…sometimes and she smiled more, a lot more. Rio made her smile, made her laugh, and more often than not, made her think about settling down. 

To put it simply, Agatha Harkness was in love and she hated it, except she really didn’t.

(She just hated that none of this helped her write this fucking song.)

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

After deciding to take yet another break, the singer went to make herself something to eat, she couldn’t cook as well as Rio, but she could make something decent enough. As she moved throughout the kitchen, she found herself mindlessly humming some of the lyrics she had written earlier. 

“My heart’s gone. She no longer lies by my side. She left at dawn and once again I lie alone.” The singer sang quietly to herself. Three weeks ago, Rio left to go to London and even though Agatha spoke to her in every spare moment of their free time, it just wasn’t the same. She missed Rio’s cooking, god did she miss her cooking, but she also missed just being with Rio. No work, fans, or press – just them in their bubble, forever. 

“It’s been three weeks. Your voice is all I have. Awaiting my love’s return.” Agatha continued singing, putting more of the song together. At this point, it felt like the lyrics were pouring out of her and she stopped in her tracks. “Scratchy, I think I finally figured this song out and of course it’s about Rio.” she said, turning to the rabbit with glee. Her food forgotten, she ran back to her home studio, Senor Scratchy hopping behind her. 

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

“You wrote a love song?” her band members exclaimed in unison. Alice Wu-Gulliver, Jennifer Kale, and Billy (just Billy. He didn’t like to use his last name, either one of them because he didn’t want to make his parents, all 4 of them, feel bad.) Agatha resisted the urge to blush. It wasn’t a love song per se, it was more of an expression of her feelings for Rio in song form, but NOT a love song. “It’s not a love song, it’s more of a declaration. I don’t do love songs.” Agatha denied. “The same way how you didn’t do relationships before Rio?” Jen shot back. Agatha let out an exasperated sigh “Look, is it good or not?” she asked. “It’s amazing and I have the perfect music for it.” Alice said, excitedly turning toward her laptop. “This might be one of your best yet.” That did cause Agatha to blush. She’d written one of her best songs and it was about her girlfriend. 

(But it still wasn’t a love song !)

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

“I’m sorry I won’t be there to hear it live, my love.” Rio’s voice came through Agatha’s headphones as she sat in hair and makeup. Tonight, Coven of Chaos were performing Forever – Agatha’s not love song – for the first time. Rio was usually always there during the first live performance, but work kept her away this time.”

“It’s fine. Besides, you’ll be home soon and that’s more important.” Agatha replied, more than understanding about Rio’s absence. “Somebody misses me.” Rio teased, just to see Agatha’s face turn red but honestly she was in the same boat. “Well if these flowers are any sign, I’d say you miss me too.” Agatha gestured to the line of flowers that were delivered to her dressing room, all from Rio. “You bring out the romantic in me.” Rio replied. 

Before Agatha could respond, the door burst open and her manager walked in. “Agatha, it's 5 minutes until showtime, you’re already performing a love song about her, your phone call can wait.” Lilia Calderu, said frantically. 

“It’s not a love song, it's –” “A declaration of feelings.” Lilia, the hairstylist, the makeup artists, and even Rio replied in unison. Agatha scoffed to cover up her flustered state. “You’re a traitor, Vidal.” Rio rolled her eyes affectionately. “Yeah, yeah. I love you too baby. Good luck.” The singer softened “I love you more, my love.” she told her before hanging up.

“I love you too Lilia.” Lilia murmured mockingly. Icy blue eyes glared at her but the older woman ignored her, she was used to Agatha and her moodiness. “Let’s go lover girl. You have to perform your love song for your fans.” 

(Okay, so being in love does wonders for Agatha and she might have written a love song.)

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

The next day, Agatha was in her home studio on live. She doesn’t go live often, but she really wanted to interact and talk with her fans after their support of Forever. She was telling them about her very chaotic time writing the song when a voice sounded behind her. 

“You know if this were a horror movie, you’d be the perfect target.” Rio said, leaning against the wall. Agatha turned around, startled. “Jesus Christ! Rio, what the hell is wrong with you?” The actress smirked, waiting for Agatha’s brain to catch up. “Oh my god, you’re home.” Agatha jumped up making her way over to her girlfriend. “Surprise, m’lady.” Rio held out a flower which Agatha grabbed before kissing her passionately. Rio’s arms instantly went to the taller woman’s waist, pulling her closer. 

When they pulled away for air, Rio glanced at the phone, remembering that they technically weren’t alone. “Baby, the phone.” Rio pointed out when Agatha tried to kiss her again. “Right. Them.” the blue-eyed brunette turned her attention back to the phone where her fans were freaking out. 

“Well that was a lovely surprise.” Agatha said, setting the flower down next to her book. Rio came and sat on Agatha’s lap, the latter wrapping her arms around Rio’s waist. “What were you talking about anyway?” the shorter woman asked. “I was telling them how I wrote Forever.” that made Rio smile. “You mean the song you wrote for me that’s definitely a love song but you refuse to call it one?” Rio asked, raising an eyebrow.

(Agatha hated how attractive she looked when she did that.)

That made Agatha scoff. “Who says I wrote it about you? It could’ve been about Senor Scratchy.” she retorted. Rio laughed loudly before replying. “Scratchy wishes he could inspire such greatness.” she said cockily. “Just admit, you wrote me a love song. It’s really good, but I expected nothing less.”

“Of course it’s good, I wrote it.” Agatha remarked. “She’s so humble.” Rio muttered causing Agatha to pinch her side. “I don’t write love songs, they’re so cliche. The song is a declaration that you and I will be together forever.” Agatha declared. “So it’s a proposal?” Rio asked. “No, that’s also cliche. When I propose, it’ll be a proper one, down on a knee and everything.” 

Blue eyes met brown, “When you propose?” Rio whispered, as if she never considered it. “Sweetheart, I wrote you a love song and performed it on live television, of course I’m going to marry you one day.” Agatha stated as if it was the most obvious reveal. The singer was confused when Rio laughed suddenly. “You called it a love song.” she said, a huge smile on her face. “No I didn’t.” Agatha denied. “Yes you did.” Rio argued. “I know one of you recorded her saying that.” she said addressing the fans, who were going crazy over this whole interaction. 

“It’s already trending on twitter.” Rio laughed reading a comment. Agatha groaned dramatically. “Why do I put up with you? Any of you, you’re supposed to be on my side.” she pouted. “Because you love me and them and you write songs about me that they love.” Rio smiled happily. “Yeah, yeah. Well, this has been fun, but now I’m going to have hot, sweaty fun with my surprise, bye guys!” Agatha announced, ending the live. “You’re shameless.” Rio chuckled, shaking her head amused. “And you love me.” Agatha said matter of factly. “I do, very much.” Rio turned to straddle the woman beneath her. “Now, I believe you said something about hot sweaty fun?” she inquired before pulling Agatha into a passionate kiss.

Okay, so Agatha doesn’t hate being in love and maybe she did write a love song like a cliche popstar, but she couldn’t bring herself to care when the woman she loved more than anyone in the world kissed her like that. 

[darkacademicvibes]

We Think Similar Thoughts

Lonely!fem!reader x Lonely!Remus Lupin

CW: Swearing, a little bit of mean!Remus but not to reader, mentions of The Prank.

This is just soft, lonely people making friends with each other. If it gets 20 Notes I'll make it a series, not the next post, but the one after will hopefully be a 'She's a drug' part 2. Hopefully being the key word.

Anyway! Enjoy :)

Edit: Made a soundtrack :D

☕︎

Remus has no where else to go.

The room of requirement is the only place he can think of that the others wouldn't bother him. He's hurt, and he has every right to be, so why was it bothering him so much? Sirius tried to make a monster out of him, Sirius tried to use him like some pawn in a game of chess, and then he labeled it a prank and called it a day, expecting Remus to forgive him. Remus feels like he has no one left. It's been two days and Peter has forgiven Sirius, and he can see James starting to miss his brother.

The door appears and Remus walks into the room, the door vanishing the second Remus' hand leaves the bronze knob. The familiar secret library smells more like home than the dorm has the past few days, but the sound of the piano in the back of the room has him on edge. Who else could be thinking the exact thought as him?

𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦.

He peers around the last bookshelf by the familiar grand piano and freezes, you sit there, playing so beautifully, and looking so sad. Your fingers seemingly float over the keys as you sing softly under your breath, he can barely recognize the song. To The Bone, by Sammy Copley. A song he's never particularly enjoyed, but hearing it so quietly compared to how Sirius plays the record, the loudest his record player can go, he doesn't mind it all that much. Though it's still far from being a favorite.

You finish the song and prepare yourself to play again before pausing, "you can sit down, you know, I don't bite" you murmur, and for a moment, he's surprised at just how sweet you sound.

He sits down in the window seat, grabbing his copy of 'The son of the wolf' by Jack London. Your eyes follow his movements before turning back to the black and white keys in front of you and beginning to play again, singing the only song you know by heart just a little louder than before, ignoring the way Remus Lupins eyes watch you instead of his book. After playing twice more, he seems to find the courage to ask the question that has been on the tip of his tongue for the last eight minutes. "Why are you only playing that song?" your fingers start up again, playing the same song as you think.

"It's the one I know best, I've played this song enough to be able to claim I know it like the back of my hand"

"What are you doing in this specific requirement room?"

"I'm lonely"

"How are you talking and playing at the same time?"

"I know this song like the back of my hand"

"Why are you lonely?"

You laugh softly, a gentle smile on your lips as he asks question after question. "Why are you?"

Remus Lupin pauses, thinking for a moment. He knows who you are, he has Alchemy with you every Thursday fourth period. And he saw you signing up for the same professor course he did last week at Hogsmeade, offering to teach music to the younger kids on your weekends. He teaches literature to kids just one year above your student group. It's a fun program, he likes teaching. He knows he wants to be a professor when he graduates, preferably one of the muggle studies professors. Historic literature is his favorite muggle studies class, it always has been.

"My friends aren't good people sometimes" He admits, picking at the sleeve of his favorite sweater. There's a small hole, right where he chews on the sleeve, he notices. "But I asked you first" your fingers dance over the keys as easily as if they were toying with a pencil.

"I don't know why I'm lonely, I think I just am" you admit, sadness twisting slightly in your heart. The room provides you a simple cinnamon roll, extra icing. Remus feels guilt prickle down his spine, and the room provides him with a beat up copy of Alice In Wonderland. You smile at it as he flushes red.

He's seventeen years old, for Merlin's sake!

He pushes the book away as you finish your song again, the more you play, the less he minds it. If he didn't know any better, he'd say he was beginning to enjoy it.

"Maybe I'm lonely because I don't make friends easily" you continue, and it has him sitting up in his seat properly, legs crossed and using his finger as a bookmark. "All the friends I do have never write to me over holidays unless I write them first, and I'm always having to walk behind them unless I want to walk on the grass. I'm not a very good judge of character, so I stick with whoever has the mind to accept me; I tag along when I'm invited, and I hope they have a good time when I'm not" you shrug, pulling the cinnamon roll apart, piece by piece, eating the small chunks of sweet bread as you pull it to bits. Icing coats your fingers, but you don't mind, and it makes Remus smile.

"I could be your friend" he offers.

"Why?"

"Well, you're lonely, I'm lonely, why can't we be lonely together?"

You turn back to the piano, your brothers voice ringing in your ears.

𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥? 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘰 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺.

"I like green, it's my favorite colour" Remus states, and for a moment, you're confused.

"What's yours?" he wonders, you hesitate. "I can never choose between brown, and Y/F/C" you wait for the judgement, for the laughter, for the familiar comment 'brown? like shit?'.

It never comes.

"I like brown but I wouldn't say it's a favourite" you stare at him for a long moment before a smile tugs at the corners of your lips and you can't help but smile as you look down at the half finished cinnamon roll in front of you, your hair falling to hide your face as you untuck it from behind your ear. A part of you wants to accept his offer of being friends, but another part calls it a temporary situation. He seems mad at his other friends, the other three boys that make up the marauders. Of course he'd be looking to spend some time with anyone else.

"y'know, I really don't like To The Bone, but you play it differently. It's nice your way. I prefer it" warmth spreads through your chest, the only compliments you ever got on your musical talents were from the kids you teach, but they're amazed by everything at their age. It's nice to be complimented by a peer, of course, you'd probably get more compliments if you bothered to play in front of people, other than twenty-four nine-year-olds.

"Thank you, is there a different song you like that I might know?"

He thinks for a moment before, seemingly nervous, he requests a song.

"Do you know 'Here comes the sun'?"

Instead of answering, you wipe your fingers on the small brown napkin that came with the cinnamon roll and begin playing. Singing quietly along. Sadly, you can't play Here Comes The Sun without singing it, otherwise you constantly lose your place and have to start again. A common issue for you. Thankfully, Remus doesn't seem to mind as he leans back against the window, watching you play.

It's definitely not the exact song, and it's certainly not as upbeat, but Remus finds himself enjoying that about your music. It's soft, almost like if hot chocolate on a snowy day was a genre.

He can't quite explain why, but he feels the need to watch you as you play.

He's always thought of you as pretty, your Y/H/C hair and Y/E/C eyes, and the few freckles that dot over your nose and cheeks. One, higher than the rest, sits high on your cheekbone, not far from your eye.

He's even occasionally considered approaching you, but you always seemed to slip away from your shared classes unnoticed. And you almost never eat in the great hall, choosing to wander around as you eat instead.

He allows himself to admire the way the golden sunlight shines in fractured streaks of soft yellow over you and the piano, the light making the highlighter on your nose a bit more noticeable.

He likes your style, beat up pink converse and your uniform, little things added and taken away to make it more.. 𝘺𝘰𝘶, he supposes.

Your blue skirt is supposed to have silver plaid squares, but you've charmed it to stick to a simple plaid pattern of different shades of blue, your grey sweater isn't a school one, and he can see the way some of your hair sits underneath the fabric, like you hadn't bothered to pull your hair out of the sweater after putting it on; and you have a bracelet on, made out of brown, yellow, and white embroidery thread.

"I think dinner is starting soon" Remus announces. You press a wrong key and wince, frowning.

"Okay"

"Do you want to head down now?"

"I don't know"

"Okay"

It's silent for a moment before you stand up. "You mean it? You really want to be my friend?" he nods, gathering his things slowly as you return a book from your bag to a nearby shelf. "I do, why?" he asks. Did you think he was lying before? The thought makes his heart hurt a little. "No reason, do you want to sit with me for dinner?" You wait for his answer, but you don't get one. You turn to face him, and he's smiling at you sweetly, offering his hand.

You quickly pull your bag over your shoulder before hesitantly accepting his hand, he leads you out of the room and rolls his eyes at the sight of Sirius Black leaning against the wall, holding a folded piece of parchment and toying nervously with the corners. Sirius falls into step with the two of you, sending you a questioning glance before turning to Remus. "Moony, I know I fucked up bad, but-" Remus swaps hands with you, pulling you away from Sirius as he cuts the boy off. "But nothing, Sirius. I'm hanging out with a friend so if you don't mind, could you fuck off? Thanks." Remus snaps, and you raise an eyebrow as guilt flashes in his eyes and Sirius stops abruptly, watching the two of you walk away.

"Sorry, Y/N" you shrug, entirely unbothered.

"It's fine, if you're mad at him, I won't question you. I trust you have good judgement" you assure him.

He laughs and smiles at you teasingly. "You just complemented yourself y'know, so confidently, too" your face burns as you realize what he means. "Oh."

"Don't worry, I think I have good judgement too" he bumps your shoulder with his arm gently. "Yeah, makes up for how freakishly tall you are" you murmur jokingly, and he laughs.

You both slip into a seat at the Ravenclaw table as the rest of the marauders watch from the Gryffindor table, all missing their friend as guilt stings at them.

☕︎︎

[mcufan72]

Sugar and Cinnamon

Loki x female reader/ 18+

Chapter 6

Chapter 5

Warnings: contains fluff, smut, sex, oral sex, angst, alcohol, soft!dom/sub vibes, jealousy, dirty talking. It's a very long chapter (~9.5k words) so please be prepared! Some of you asked for it and I delivered.

Note: the dancing scene came to my mind when I walked through Soho/London a few weeks ago. It's also inspired by the dancing scene from the movie "Last Night in Soho" and you can find it on YouTube, and this is the song Anya Taylor-Joy and Matt Smith dance to... just to get a bit of the vibe ...and I couldn't resist to let MS make an appearance

I couldn't resist, my lovely @lokisprettygirl You already know that. Thanks for your help and for answering my special question and I sincerely hope I got it right...

This special part of the chapter is for you, my dearest (you'll know it when you read it)❤️🩷💚🤍

Loki couldn't remember the last time he felt that nervous and excited before an event. It must have been on Asgard when he was a young innocent prince, attending for the first time to a ball at the Asgardian Court, expected to dance with a princess for the very first time. He was delighted when Rhea sent him your confirmation for tonight's gala dinner and he looked forward to seeing you again. It wasn't even a real date, officially he booked you as his companion or as you were calling it, his arm candy. Nonetheless, he was grateful that you still wanted to spend time with him.

Dressed in black briefs after a relaxing bath which he took after returning from a run in Morris Canal Park, he stood in his closet and began to dress himself for the evening. For the gala dinner, he chose a black three-piece suit, perfectly tailored, excellently wrapping and emphasizing his muscular body. He combined it with a tight-fitting black shirt, and a dark-green tie which perfectly matched with the dark-green details of the waistcoat and the dark-green evening gown he gave to you, and finished his look with black leather shoes. He wished you would wear the dress tonight. He'd feel honoured. He had a further, little surprise for you. It was nothing special but he hoped you'd like it.

Nervous, nauseous, and excited. Three words to describe your condition. With trembling hands, you did your makeup and put on the dress. Why were you always so nervous when you had a date with Luke? You already slept with him so there was no need anymore to be nervous. You pulled your hair into a sleek tight bun like you always did, the knot high on your head this time. You'd prefer to wear your trainers but of course, you chose the elegant golden high heel sandals you had bought for events like these. They were just a further pair of beautiful little beasts but they perfectly rounded up the elegant design of the gown. You finished your look with the dark red lipstick and there she was: Sugar, ready to meet Luke. You grabbed your golden box clutch, studded with shimmering rhinestones, from the dresser and left your apartment, leaving all your problems behind. You wanted to enjoy this evening to the fullest. You deserved it, didn't you?

When you arrived at the event location, Luke was already waiting for you. Because of the evening darkness and the tinted car windows, you couldn't see what he was wearing but you were sure he would be the most handsome man tonight. He was always eye candy but for tonight he was your eye candy. Luke opened the door for you and offered you his hand helping you to get out of the limousine. You smiled brightly at him, happy to see him again. How could he look better every time you met him? He looked dashing in his tailored suit. Did his tie have the exact same colour as your evening gown? You found his attention to detail remarkable and adorable. What a man. What a wonderful, attentive man. Why wasn't he already taken? There must be a woman who would appreciate and want to be with a man like him.

Loki helped you to get out of the limousine and the first thing he saw were your beautiful legs and the elegant golden high heel sandals with the delicate straps on your feet. When you had left the car completely he smiled lovingly at you. You were wearing it, the evening gown he had chosen for you and you had no idea how happy you were making him. The evening gown hugged every curve of yours perfectly and the strong updo allowed an excellent view of your smooth neck and nearly bare back. You were so damn beautiful, and for tonight you were his and nobody would take you away from him.

“Good evening, Sugar. You look stunning in that dress. Absolutely gorgeous,” he gushed, one hand still hidden behind his back.

“And you look very dapper in your black suit. You're such a handsome man, Luke. And I like your tie, it looks gorgeous. I'm so happy to see you,” you complimented him.

“I hope I didn't overstep a boundary by sending you the evening gown. I just thought you might like it. Thank you for wearing it tonight. I feel extremely honoured,” and a hint of shyness appeared on his face.

“You didn't overstep, Luke. The dress is fantastic and I love it. It's perfect. You have an excellent taste for fashion. I don't deserve such a generous gift and I appreciate it. And also thanks for your lovely letter and I can assure you, I'm not mad at you. How could I, you don't owe me any excuse,” you explained to him sincerely.

His answer was a thankful smile and then he gave you what he had hidden behind his back. A little bouquet of multi-coloured wildflowers, tied together with a small green ribbon.

“Oh my god, Luke! Thank you! Thank you so much…how beautiful,” and your eyes teared up. You've gotten a lot of bouquets from some of your clients but none of them compared to this one. You never got a bouquet as pretty as this. You were sure he had poured his heart into it.

“Did you pick the flowers yourself?”, and you caressed the flowers.

“I did. I collected them in Morris Canal Park. I hope you like them,” he told you and you recognised a bit of shyness in his gaze.

“No man had ever done this for me. Thank you, Luke,” you whispered and pressed the flowers gently to your cleavage. You wanted to hug him but you didn't dare do it.

“It's nothing special but I…”

“Don't underestimate the beauty of self-picked flowers…and they are special. They're special to me because they're from you and I love them,” you interrupted him. You didn't want the flowers to wither and so you gave them to Walker who promised you to take care of them.

Loki felt like a little boy, trying to impress his first crush. He had never expected this cute reaction. He could've impressed you with a giant bouquet of roses but it seemed you appreciated the wildflowers more than any rose or lily he could've bought for you. You were amazing. How could you still be without a loving man by your side? You were so adorable… and naughty as well. A perfect combination.

“Shall we go in?” and as the gentleman he was, he offered you his arm.

“Yes, I'd love that!” and you two entered the location.

Loki introduced you to some of his business partners and finally, he wanted to introduce you to the host of the evening, Mr.Smith, who was still in a conversation. But he had already made eye contact with you. And then you understood what Rhea meant when she said, he's an attractive man. He wasn't a classic beautiful man but he definitely had an extremely charming aura. Almost as tall as Luke, he was lean but bulkier, had dark blonde hair and a sly smile which gave him something boyish and devious but in a very sympathetic way. His green deep-set eyes were sparkling with mischief and fun, and they had nearly the same stare as Luke's. The way he moved, spoke and behaved could captivate everyone under his spell. His elegant black tux and black bow tie perfectly rounded up his impressive appearance. You were sure a lot of women wouldn't say ‘no’ to him and your gaze wandered to an Indian beauty in an amazing black lehenga dress. This absolutely beautiful and elegant three-piece ensemble consisted of the actual lehenga, a long ankle-length and voluminous skirt, embellished with golden intricate embroidery, the choli, a well-fitted blouse top which emphasized her perfectly formed torso and the dupatta, a scarf which she had draped around her stunning outfit. Her waist-length and nearly black hair shimmered like black velvet and cascaded over her back, her big and sparkling dark-brown eyes were the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen. She was such a stunning eye-catcher and you didn't miss how Mr Smith looked at her from time to time. You knew that kind of gaze very well, not just from your clients and every time their gazes met, they both quickly looked away. It was kind of adorable. One might think he was totally smitten by the Indian beauty and nobody could blame him for this, she was one of the most beautiful women at tonight's gala.

“I don't like the way he looks at you,” Loki growled quietly.

“Do I hear some jealousy in your voice, Mr.Larsson?” you teased him. You didn't want to annoy him, you just wanted to see his reaction. You didn't want him to fall in love with you, he paid for your company but nonetheless you wanted him to desire you. You knew that was weird but tonight you were just his, and he was just yours, right?

“What? No, of course not! You're my escort, not my wife,” he frowned, pressing his lips firmly together, his jaw clenching.

“No, I'm not your wife. A pity, actually,” you teased him further and he side-eyed you, the expression on his face unreadable.

At this moment Mr Smith ended his conversation and came over to you two.

“What a beautiful sight at my friend's side… good evening, Miss…?

“...Black, I'm Miss Black,” you greeted him and he took your hand in his and gave a brief kiss to your knuckles.

“You look gorgeous, Miss Black, a further sparkling diamond at my party,” his deep-settled eyes staring flirtatious into yours and a sexy smile curved one corner of his mouth. He grabbed a glass of champagne from a waiter, who passed by with a tablet of filled champagne glasses, and gave it to you.

“Thank you for completing me, Mr Smith,” and you took the offered glass of champagne from his hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you,” you responded tantalizingly and held his gaze.

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Black and I hope you enjoy the evening. Eat, drink, dance and have fun,” he encouraged you and he turned towards Loki. Mr.Smith was such a player, a sexy lad, you've already sensed that.

“Luke, my old friend, what a pleasure to have you here. I hope you enjoy the evening,” and he shook Loki's hand and placed his other hand amicably on Loki's shoulder.

“Matt, it is a pleasure to meet you, as always and thank you for the invitation," he answered, slightly annoyed and both appraisingly staring into each other's eyes. After a short conversation, Mr.Smith left to order a drink for himself at the bar.

You sensed the tension in Luke's shoulders and you suppressed a grin. He was a bit possessive over you, wasn't he? Since you worked as an escort lady, you were used to a man’s behaviour like Mr.Smith’s. You did everything to get these reactions, through clothes, style, and attitude because every man you saw could become your client. But all of this was a costume, a mask. That wasn't you. Luke would never want you or even like the woman and her problems, who were hidden behind that mask. The woman behind all the makeup and the dark-red lipstick. The woman who called herself ‘Sugar’.

“He was just being polite, and there's nothing wrong about it. He's interested in someone else so, relax Luke, he really was just being nice,” and he side-eyed you again, with raised eyebrows.

He was just being nice? Interested in someone else? You were a head-turner, an eye-catcher tonight and he just saw this guy lustfully staring at you and the only thing he could think about was that no man should ever chase after a girl on a friend’s turf. He saw you taking a sip of champagne, turning your head and grinning at him.

Between the main courses and the serving of the desserts was a pause so that everyone could take a short walk, have some drinks at the bar or enter the dance floor. Shortly before Loki wanted to ask you to dance with him, Mr.Smith came back to you, a glass of bourbon in his hand. With the biggest mischievous smirk on his face, he addressed Loki with a question.

“Would you allow me to dance with your charming companion?”

“You don't have to ask me. You have to ask the lady,” he said to Matt, giving him a fake smile.

“I think I should allow our host of the evening to dance with me, shouldn't I, Luke?” and Mr.Smith took you by your hand.

You would never understand why you had fun annoying Luke and where your self-confidence came from. Why did you want to provoke a reaction from him? And what kind of reaction did you expect? You didn't understand yourself anymore. Did you expect him to fight for his right to dance with you because he paid you for your company? You knew that Mr Smith just wanted to provoke a reaction from that gorgeous-looking Indian lady his eyes had been glued to for over several hours now. He couldn't fool you.

“I'm on to you, Mr. Smith but…Let's play a little game," you said to him while he led you to the dance floor. “But don't you dare play with her, she likes you,” you warned him.

“What do you mean, Miss Black?” He tried to play ignorant.

“Mr.Smith, don't fool me. I just dance with you when you spend the rest of the evening with her and dance with her only,” you answered demandingly, smiling at him.

“Her? Who is ‘her’?”

“The beautiful lady in the black lehenga.”

“I don't dare ask her. I'm sure she doesn't find me pretty enough, not good enough for her.”

“Then you probably should stop eye-fucking each other all evening… it's pretty obvious that you like her… and she likes you,” and you sensed he felt caught.

“Likewise,” he mocked you, "Mr Larsson is eye-fucking you as well, so… you two are not any better than us. It's obvious how possessive he's over you,” and he crowned his statement with a smug smile.

“I see we're speaking the same language, Mr.Smith. Get your girl, she likes you more than you think and believe me, you are very attractive and charming,” you tried to convince him.

“Thank you for saying that, you're very kind...And you go and get your man before he combusts with jealousy… he's addicted to you. And by the way, call me Matt.”

Before you could answer anything the music started to play and Matt began to dance with you.

“You're not his girlfriend, are you?” And he twirled you around.

“What makes you think I'm not?” you asked when you faced him again.

“Don't get me wrong, you're beautiful and charming but he's more the type for fake dating, he never wants to be connected to someone or be close to someone, nonetheless…,” you danced several steps away from him and twirled back into his arm, “…he's undressing you with his eyes,” and he twirled you around again and when you danced face to face again, he held you by your midriff, swaying to the rhythm.

“Why does it bother you? You should mind your own business, Matt. And to be very clear, I'll never date you, it'll always be him and you better take care of the Indian beauty over there. You should really ask her to dance with you … I'm not the one that you want,” you said kindly.

“Yeah, you might be right. I think if Luke is addicted to your personality and not just your body, then he may be falling for you.”

“I think we shouldn't play cruel games with them. We both have what we want, both are furious with jealousy. We should redeem them from their suffering, shouldn't we?” you suggested.

“You're an amazing woman, Miss Black, no man can fool you, indeed.”

“Not in this case, I guess, and… you can call me Candy,” you responded and with that the song ended, your dance was over and you both left the dance floor, walking towards Loki who was waiting for you with an annoyed expression on his face.

That was it. That was the reason why he hated it that you worked as an escort. Other men touching you, lustfully looking at you, dancing with you the tantalizing way Matt just did… This guy was too close, his hand too low on your back, his gaze at you too intimate. Loki fumed with jealousy. All those men didn't deserve you. He didn't deserve you either but he must do something to get you out of the escort business and he better not run out of ideas.

“Thank you for this nice conversation and the dance, Matt,” you thanked him with a bright smile.

“The pleasure was all mine, Candy. Thank you very much for telling me about your opinion and enjoy the rest of the evening.” Loki looked unbelievingly back and forth between you two, frowning.

“Relax, mate, she talked about you only,” Matt said to Loki, patted his shoulder and walked over to the bar.

“Candy? What?” Loki was confused.

“It's my second name, don't think about it further…oh and you can relax, Matt is off the market, he's no competition for you. He never was,” you smiled defiantly at him, clearly feeling the tension in his body. When the next song started, you saw Matt entering the dance floor with the Indian lady. ‘What a beautiful couple,’ you thought and smiled.

You could be such a bratty girl. You did it on purpose, didn't you? You had forbidden him to fall in love with you but you didn't hesitate to tease him like this? Maybe he should give you a proper and all-devouring kiss, here and now so that you and everyone else know, you belong to him. No, no he should not do that. You didn't belong to him. You were your own person and you could do whatever you wanted to do. But he had enough. He grabbed you by your upper arm and pulled you with him into an undisturbed, dark corner and pressed you with his whole body against the wall, breathing heavily.

“What are you thinking you're doing here, hm? Teasing me like that, here in public? Want me to fuck against the wall? Now? Hard, quick, deep?”

“Maybe? You wanted to show me pleasure…”

“You're such a tease. You in that dress… have you any idea what you're doing to me?”

“You wanted me to wear it…”

“Oh yes, because I knew how amazingly sexy you would look in it. And I wanted you to be one of the most gorgeous-looking women tonight because you deserve it. And I'm proud to be the man by your side,” he growled softly.

“Why didn't you want to dance with me? You let him dance with me but don't demand your right to a dance from me? You pay for me and my services. Why don't you force me to do my job?” you asked him quietly, still caged between him and the wall.

“I don't chase, I attract and to make myself very clear, I won't force you to do anything!” His voice dropped to subzero temperatures, dryer than gin.

“And believe me, Sugar, the kind of dance I'm thinking of, is not meant for the dance floor. All you have to do is ask me.”

“You can ask me the same question, I'm your escort, you pay for me, you can possibly demand it from me,” you provoked him further, a tantalizing smile on your lips.

“I'd never do that. I'd never force you. I'm still not sure if you want to do it at all so you'll have to be the one to ask!”

There it was again. He tried to give you the feeling that you were the centre of everything, that he was there to please you, not the other way around. You grabbed his tie and pulled his face closer to yours.

“I want to sleep with you, I want to make it up to you, I want to erase my mistake. I want you to play with me. And I want to try new things,” you whispered, your lips slightly brushing his earlobe, making him shiver. “Play with me, I allow you to kiss my whole body, if you want to, except my face,” you offered him sweetly.

“So you allow me to play with you? Are you sure?”

“Yes, show me pleasure, Luke. Show me how to give in to you, show me how to do it right. I won't disappoint you again,” you promised him.

“I'll do whatever you want and whatever you allow me to do. You won't regret it and believe me, you did nothing wrong or disappointed me,” and he pressed a gentle kiss on the soft flesh of your throat, his hand caressing the part of your naked thigh where the gown had the slit. Your hands clasped his shoulders and you felt his muscles tensing. You lifted the leg he was caressing and hooked it around his waist. He immediately pressed his hips against your throbbing core and you felt his cock hardening.

“We should stop doing this, Luke. We don't want to cause attention, do we? We should continue our ‘dance’ in the hotel suite later,” you moaned faintly.

“You have a valid point there. I don't want anyone to look at you while I tear you apart,” and he gave your butt a gentle squeeze. You felt so good in his arms, too good.

You giggled like a schoolgirl and loosened yourself from his lustful grip, took him by his hand and intertwined your fingers with his. It felt so familiar as if he were your lover, not your client.

“Let's get something to drink. And I need to sit down somewhere…my feet…”

“…are killing you. The little beasts, right?”

“Yeah, sorry. I shouldn't complain so much.”

“It's alright, sweet thing. We'll drink something and you can put your aching feet on my thighs if you want… underneath the table, of course. No one has to see it,” and he winked at you.

“You're adorable, Luke. I don't deserve it. Come, I need a cool beverage now… and…”

“…a dessert, yeah. I already know that. Sometimes I think it's the only reason why you escort me to dinner events,” he joked and teased you and he got a heartwarming laughter from you. You were so devastatingly beautiful when you were laughing. He shouldn't allow himself the feeling but you grew on him more and more.

“You might be right, Mr.Larsson,” was the only thing you could answer him. Desserts were definitely your weakness.

On your way to the dining area, you saw Matt and his beautiful Indian lady heavily making out in another dark corner of the location, both completely melting into each other's arms and forgetting the world around them.

“Shhhh,” you gestured to Luke, “we don't want to disturb them” and you both sneaked silently past them. You couldn't deny that you wouldn't mind Luke Larsson kissing you the same way Matt kissed his girl but unfortunately … you'd never kiss a client.

“I don't like desserts. I don't have a sweet tooth.” Loki complained when you both sat at a dining table to eat some dessert, sitting opposite to each other.

“Who doesn't like desserts? I still don't get it. It's the best thing about a meal. The culmination of every menu… sweet and a melting pleasure on the tongue…,” you gushed.

“I hate it, okay!”

“No, you don't!”

“I do!”

“No, you don't!”

“I do...mpffhh…” and you shoved a spoonful of chocolate mousse with cream into his mouth before he could speak further nonsense. The delightful glance in his eyes when the taste buds of his tongue were pleasantly surprised by the dark chocolate, told you otherwise. A blissful moan rumbled in his throat, making you smile.

“As I said. You don't hate desserts,” you stated knowingly.

“You forced me to eat it!” He frowned and pouted, licking the last droplets of mousse from his lips. “Can I have some more?” He whispered, barely audible to you.

“What did you say?” You mocked him.

“Can I have some more, please?”

“I'm sorry, it was the last one on the buffet… Well, you shouldn't be too disappointed that you can't have more, Luke, because you hate desserts, right?” A mischievous grin curved your lips.

“Hm!” He pouted and crossed his arms in front of his chest, trying to avoid showing his disappointment. “It's not as bad as I thought it would be… but, yeah you're right. I still hate it.”

You chuckled silently and recognised how cute he was at that moment. Trying hard to hold on to his opinion about desserts and not to show you how much he truly liked it after tasting it. Gosh, he was so adorable.

“You can tell me that you've changed your opinion about desserts. It's nothing to be ashamed of. And we can share my chocolate mousse if you want,” you told him softly.

“I appreciate it, Sugar, thanks. Enjoy your chocolate mousse. Come, place your foot on my thigh, sweet thing,” and you did.

Loki opened the straps of your sandal, took it off your foot, placed it on the free chair next to him and began to massage your aching foot and the toes tenderly but with the right amount of gentle pressure.

“Gosh, that feels so good,” you sighed blissfully and enjoyed his tender hand kneading your foot for several minutes.

“Now the other foot,” he said and gave it the same attention and care as he did with your other foot. You moaned blissfully again and the way Luke glanced at you was arousing you. When his fingers massaged around your ankle, you jumped at the opportunity rubbing your foot over his crotch and you felt him getting hard. You looked enticing at him and his pupils dilated with arising lust.

“You're such a bratty girl,” and he pressed a thumb into your bunion, hitting the right spot. You hissed lustfully and a dull throb in your core made you feel all giddy.

“Shall we leave for the hotel?” You asked him and he just nodded. He came over to you and gave you your shoes and when you put the first sandal on he bent down on one knee and fastened the straps.

“Luke, please, get up. I can do this on my own,” you begged him vehemently. He wasn't your servant and he certainly did not have to do this.

“You wear this torturous footwear for me so helping you with your shoes is a bare minimum,” he declared.

You stood up from your chair and stood close to him. He leaned into you and you put your hand on his shoulder. Your cheek gently touched his cheek when you whispered a soft “Thank you” into his ear.

Your closeness and your scent intoxicated him. His one hand wrapped automatically around your middle and pulled you closer to him. The way you gave in to his movement without any hesitation came so naturally that he immediately felt wanted. He couldn't believe that you were just pretending to want him. But it was maybe just your art of seduction and your magic allure that blurred his mind and made him succumb to you.

When you arrived at the hotel and finally in the same suite as the last time, you both didn't waste any time. You quickly prepared the things you needed to be prepared and put your kimono and a lace bra on the backrest of the chair. The purpose of being here again was more than clear. Loki took his jacket off, as well as the waistcoat and the tie. He would need the tie later. He opened his shirt completely but let the hem stay in the waistband of his trousers. He took a seat in the armchair and spread his long legs wide.

You stood opposite him, getting off of your high-heeled sandals and watching him getting partly undressed and taking a seat in the leather armchair, his shirt completely open. Every muscle in his arms and thighs and torso was flexing and relaxing while doing it and it sent a shiver down your spine and directly to your cunt. When there was one thing you hated, that disgusted you to the core, it was men sitting with wide-spread legs. Normally it disgusted you but Loki doing it did something to you, you had never expected. It aroused you, you wanted to sit on his lap or … humping one of his beautiful, muscled thighs. God, if you didn't shove those thoughts away immediately you would've turned into a wanton whore sooner than you thought. Nonetheless, you couldn't stop staring at his prominent bulge. This man was too sexy. His whole body screamed sex.

“Do you like what you see?" he teased you, an arrogant grin on his face while slowly rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

"W…what?"

“I asked, do you like what you see?” And he placed his now bare forearms on the armrest of the armchair again, his long fingers curling around the ends.

“I hate it when a guy sits like a man whore.” Loki chuckled darkly, smugness written all over his face.

“You like it!”

“I hate it,” you murmured.

“Liar! Come here, Sugar!” Loki pronounced every single word, his voice deep and rich.

You looked at him and a smirk appeared at the corner of your mouth. You shook your head lightly and rolled your eyes. You wanted him to play with you and the game had already started. You both were all in.

“Come.Here.” His voice dropped to subzero temperatures. Harsh, cold as if he could freeze the whole room into an ice cave.

A shiver ran down your spine again and you obeyed. You walked slowly toward him until you stood between his spread thighs. You stared down at him, his ocean-blue eyes glancing up and down between your eyes, your lips and your cleavage. You wanted to be cool and collected but you couldn't help the wetness between your thighs drenching your lace underwear. Why was he able to cause such arousal in your body? It was just sex. A sex appointment. A date, set by your escort agency. A consensual sex date to get some steam off. Just a natural need that you and he wanted to satisfy.

“Strip off your dress,” he commanded seductively.

You obeyed again. You loved to be told what to do next. Since when? You reached behind your back to pull the zipper down but had some struggle finding it.

“Could you please unzip me?” And you slowly turned around. You couldn't see him but you felt his gaze wandering up to your shoulders and down to your buttocks where his eyes remained for a moment.

He could smell you. The subtle scent of your perfume, the natural scent of your skin and the heavy, beguiling scent of your arousal.

“You're outrageously beautiful, Sugar,” he murmured and pulled your zipper slowly down. It was the most arousing sound you had heard for a long time. He was so close to you and you felt his breath fanning over your skin. You let your green dream of a dress slide down your shoulders and it pooled around your ankles and you stepped out of it, kicking it carefully aside.

Slowly he let his hands slide over your shoulders and flanks to your front and cupped your naked breasts carefully, teasing your nipples with his thumbs, making you sigh and moan. A warm tingling rushed through your veins but a coolness rushed over your skin as if a god would touch a mortal to make said mortal shiver in submission.

“Get your bra,” he whispered to your ear, nibbling at the soft skin of your neck. You did as he told you and he took the flimsy lace bra from your hand, put it on you, and closed the clasp of your bra. From the last time, he remembered that you felt better leaving your bra on. And he wanted you to feel comfortable.

“Am I still allowed to play with you?” He asked quietly.

“Yes, yes you are,” you whispered and turned around to face him.

Loki made some steps backwards, sat down again in the leather armchair, leaned back and spread his long legs wide.

Loki's heartbeat quickened and his mouth watered when he saw you in your tantalizing black lingerie. The flimsy lace bra emphasized your cleavage and cupped your breasts perfectly. Your peaked rosy nipples were on display for him through the transparent lace and he felt his cock throbbing with anticipation. He was on edge and he would've loved to take you instantly, roughly, thrusting his cock deep inside of you until you were a dripping mess, screaming his name. But he wanted to take his time with you, enjoy you, seduce you slowly till you were begging him to fuck you. And he would make sure you never needed to fake an orgasm again. With him, every orgasm of yours would be a real one. He would take good care of it and he wanted you to enjoy it to the fullest without feeling ashamed or bad.

“How do you want me?” You asked him softly, your lips slightly parted. Your plump lips drove him crazy. He wished he were allowed to kiss these beautiful lips of yours. He could just imagine how deliciously they must taste.

“I want you to suck my dick. I want you to suck and lick it extensively,” he demanded, testing you. How far would you allow him to go? The imagination alone of your lips wrapped around his cock made him harden.

“Okay. But you won't cum in my mouth. I don't like swallowing your sperm. You can cum over my breasts…and don't hit my face!”

“With that I can deal,” Loki answered darkly.

You didn't like sucking cock at all and the last time you completely ruled it out. Not to talk about swallowing sperm. But it seemed possible to suck him, this handsome guy and you wondered why. You told him you wanted to try new things and so you wanted to give it a try.

You knelt between his thighs, unbuckled his belt and opened his trousers. You reached into his briefs and pulled out his dick along with his balls. Loki moaned quietly and you could just let out a small gasp when you saw his erection. You saw his cock for the first time tonight because the first time when he slept with you, he had blindfolded you before he got rid of his clothes. Loki was a bit bigger down there than the other men you had had sex with. And his cock was… beautiful, pretty even. Perfectly formed in length and thickness, his tip swollen and leaking pre-cum, the veins on the underside pulsating in anticipation, his balls heavy and hot. Your mouth watered and you couldn't wait to suckle him. You had never expected to think about a guy's cock like you did right here and now.

“Am I allowed to place my hands on your thighs?”

Loki hesitated for a moment before he permitted you to do so. If he lost control, nothing would be noticeable there for you. And he still wasn't sure if he was able to stand your touch. But he gave it a try.

“Yes,” he moaned, and you placed your hands there.

You lowered your head and licked a stripe from base to tip. Torturously slow. Once, twice, then you took his cock head gently into your mouth and let your tongue swirl over and around his sensitive tip. You released him with a plop and licked your lips. He tasted so good. Sweet and salty and you craved for more. You gave him a devouring look and turned your attention to his balls. With your hand, you gave him light strokes while you kissed and sucked his balls and when you bit them gently, Loki whimpered loudly. His cock got rock-hard, aching for your warm mouth. How could he even get harder than he already was?

His scent intoxicated you. The smell of musk and the natural scent of his skin, manly and heavy, awoke a kind of lust in your body that you didn't know you had inside of you. Unbridled, initial desire. You were dripping wet and you weren't sure if you were already soaking the floor with your juices.

His breathing became heavier, filled with whimpers and moans. Loki was so turned on that he nearly forgot to blindfold you.

“Should we get you more comfortable, Luke? Lift your ass for me,” you asked him quietly and pulled his trousers and his briefs completely down and took them off completely. While his ass wasn't placed back on the armchair again you took the chance and you caressed his buttocks and kneaded them firmly. Loki sat down again but now he rather laid in the armchair than sit on it so you were able to continue cupping his ass cheeks in your hands and kneading them tenderly. You started to lick his cock again and he gently blindfolded you with his tie.

You flattened your tongue and licked his tip like a popsicle, stimulating his frenulum tenderly but firmly, testing the waters of what he might like. You didn't want to hurt him. Your one hand fondled his balls, carefully and tenderly scratching over the skin. Loki moaned and sighed heavily, writhing under your merciless but delicious torture. You took his unbelievingly hard cock into your mouth again, hollowed your cheeks and started to suck the life out of him.

“Fuck…Sugar I can't…I can't take it…much longer,” he whimpered.

You sped up your pace, your head bobbing up and down in a steady rhythm, sucking and licking him until his eyes fluttered shut, his head leaning back against the armchair's backrest, his fingers clawing into the armrest. You felt him tensing up and shivers ran through his body and you were sure he would come soon. His arousal and writhing and the way he allowed you to own him in this moment made your cunt throbbing and dripping with need. You wanted to get off as well, you never felt so needy before. Never before was any other man able to do this to you.

“I'm…fuck…I'm coming…fuck…,” and he withdrew his cock from your mouth instantly, grabbed his cock and stroked himself two more times. The coil in his lower abdomen snapped and a mind-blowing orgasm washed over him, and he ejaculated in thick ropes all over your breasts. The sight of you blindfolded and letting him come all over your precious bosom doubled his satisfaction.

“Luke…please…” You didn't know what you were begging for but the feeling of his warm sperm running down your cleavage made your head spin. You still knelt between his legs, still blindfolded and dying because of arousal, your clit throbbing and yearning for attention. Loki came slowly down from his high, his cock still hard.

“Come here sweet thing,” and he grabbed you carefully by your upper arms and pulled you onto his lap.

“You took me so well, you're talented, sweet thing. You know exactly what you do, don't you? And now you will get off on my thigh, sweet girl. Want to ride my thigh, hm? Rub your needy clit over my leg and drench me with your arousal. Come, sweet thing, drive me wild…” he moaned lasciviously, guiding your hips when you began to gyrate them back and forth to get the friction to work yourself to much-needed relief. You placed your hands on the backrest of the armchair, your forehead close to his. You felt the warmth of an orgasm rising in your stomach and you moaned and whimpered breathlessly. It felt heavenly, he felt heavenly. And these feelings were all you had because you were still blindfolded. You were already on edge when Loki took one of your peaked nipples into his mouth, suckling and nipping it through the thin lace of your bra.

“Oh god…please…” you moaned. You needed to cum. Now. But Loki stopped your gyrating movements by holding your hips firmly.

“You will come around my cock, sweet thing. No fake orgasm this time, Sugar!”

“Close…I'm so close…please…”

“I know, I'll let you cum, be patient, sweet thing and don't move,” and you heard how he unfoiled a condom. Mere seconds later he lifted you from his thigh, shoved your lace thong aside and slid you carefully down onto his fully erect length, giving you enough time to accommodate his cock and get adjusted to him. He didn't want to hurt you. He would never forgive himself if he would cause you any kind of pain. You whimpered because of how deliciously he stretched and filled you and you were still in desperate need to cum.

“Are you okay, Sugar?” He asked quietly and concernedly. “Can I move?”

“Yes …yes please, I need you,” you answered desperately.

“Good girl, taking me so well. Fuck… you're so pretty…so tight…you've such a pretty cunt.”

Loki guided your movements, made you hop up and down and when you both had found a comfortable rhythm he thrust firmly upwards, faster, deeper, hitting your inner spot at a perfect angle. He took your nipple in his mouth again, nipping, sucking and licking it until it couldn't get any harder and changed to your other breast to torture that nipple in the same delicious way. At this point, you were a moaning, whimpering mess. You felt his cock throbbing inside of you, every vein and ridge massaging you straight towards your climax. It had never felt that good.

“Cum, cum all over my cock, show me how much you want it, Sugar. Scream for me!” And his one hand reached down to your throbbing clit and he pinched and rubbed your swollen bud purposefully. His thrusts became sloppier, he felt his own orgasm rising and he rubbed your clit faster than before.

“Cum…fuck…cum for me…now…” and right on cue you exploded. Your orgasm was intense and not only your cunt but also your whole body was convulsing and shaking and your toes curling.

“Good girl…you're such a…good girl.” Loki's abdominal muscles tensed up, his body shaking when he felt your walls clenching around his cock and it made him orgasm harder than before. You collapsed against each other, bathing in post-orgasmic bliss. This time you didn't fake it. This time you truly had an orgasm and it felt good, so damn good. For both of you.

When you came down from your highs you both chuckled in unison and Loki removed the blindfold from your eyes. They needed a moment to adjust to the dimmed lights of the hotel room again and you could swear there was a light shimmer of blue on Loki's skin. But then you were sure you had just imagined it and blamed the blindfolding for it.

“I'm sorry. I made a big mess out of you,” Loki chuckled.

“Don't worry about it, Luke Larsson. I'll take a shower after you've left. But we still have some time until midnight.” You released his cock, stood up from his lap and you instantly missed the warm feeling of him inside of you. You were still a little weak in your knees.

“Did you enjoy it this time, Sugar?” Loki asked you softly.

“The more important thing is you enjoyed it,” you answered him smilingly.

“That's not the answer to my question, sweets.”

“Why do men always need the confirmation that they were good and are a grenade in the bedroom department?” You contered sarcastically.

“That wasn't my question either. I don't need confirmation that…”

“You're being very self-confident, aren't you? Do we have a god-complex, Mr.Larsson?”

“Why do you have to destroy it, Sugar? I just wanted to know if you enjoyed it and if you're okay.” Loki sounded disappointed and sad and you instantly regretted your rude answer and your behaviour genuinely. You were afraid of your feelings again. You saw him heading for the bathroom and heard him opening the faucet of the sink. You followed him. He was cleaning himself, tossing the condom into the bin and preparing a washcloth with warm water. You stood next to him, facing him in the mirror.

“I'm sorry, Luke. I didn't intend to be mean. I did enjoy it. It felt good, really. I'm just not used to getting so much attention and care afterwards, you know. But please, Luke…don't catch feelings for me. I'm just your escort.” You smiled mildly at him. Your heart clenched when you saw how sad he looked at you. You liked him more than you were ready to admit.

“No worries about that. I won't catch feelings for you, Sugar.” A lie, a perfect lie from a perfect liar. That was what he always has been and always will be, a liar.

“I just wanted you to feel comfortable around me.” And he turned towards you, the washcloth in his hand. You wanted to take it out of his hand to clean your cleavage and stomach from his now sticky seed but he didn't give it to you.

“Let me do this, sweet thing. It's the one thing I'd like to do for you,” and he began to gently clean you. His actions were so soft and caring. You wished you could have this tenderness every day. But not with anyone, no, it had to be him.

'Don't fall in love with him, just don't, you foolish girl' you cursed inwardly.

“I destroyed your lingerie. I'm sorry for that. You looked so tempting and sexy in it, and it was wonderful to have sex with you dressed in this hot lace.”

“A bit kinky, hmm? Lingerie, a blindfold, commanding me…” you stated and smiled.

“Watch your mouth, sweet thing. Don't be a brat.”

“What if I'm bratty? Will you punish me next time?”

You both chuckled and looked into each other's eyes. There weren't only mischievous and lusty thoughts. There was something else. Sympathy, harmony, trust. You two didn't know how or why but you felt drawn to each other.

“Well, the biggest mess got cleaned,” Loki said after he finally cleaned you from his seed and smiled at you.

“Thank you! That was very sweet and thoughtful of you,” you said gratefully.

“My pleasure!" He answered with his deep voice, wrapping around you like a soft blanket. You wished you had a boyfriend like him. Attentive, affectionate and gentle. And not only in a sexual way. With a boyfriend like him, you surely haven't ended up here, as an escort with a man you liked more than you were allowed to like, not to talk about you weren't allowed to fall in love with. You made these rules yourself and you would never break them. Anyway, a man like him would never want to have someone like you as his partner in life. Why should he choose you when he could have any other woman who was smarter, more beautiful and more decent than you? Under different circumstances, you two might have had a chance but now your life was fucked up. You wished you would've met him before you became an escort but it was what it was and you couldn't turn back the time.

You walked back to the main room, took on your kimono and climbed into the bed. You curled up on one side and pulled the duvet over you.

“Are you okay, sweet thing?” Loki asked you softly when he found you lying in bed under the sheets when he returned to the main room as well, dressed in his briefs and his open shirt.

“Mhmh…,” you murmured sleepily. “I'm just tired.”

Loki climbed onto the bed, leaning his torso against the cushions on the headboard. You looked so innocent and cute with your head snuggled deeply into the fluffy pillows. He watched you dozing and he smiled lovingly at you.

“I'll stay until midnight if it's okay for you,” he whispered and you nodded slightly. It made him smile again. He hated cuddling after sex and cuddling without sex even more. But suddenly you came closer and in your sleepy state you draped your leg over his, curled your hand around his waist and your head snuggled into his chest as if he was a damn comfy pillow or a plushie. A sugar angel sleeping in the arms of a monster. He shouldn't enjoy it. He shouldn't touch you. His hands were the hands of a killer, a liar. Hands that fit easily around a gun or a neck. He shouldn't hold a precious woman like you in his embrace.

He wrapped his arm tightly around you and pulled you closer to his chest. You must've fallen asleep, your breathing became calm and deep. You felt so soft and warm and good in his arms and he stole a little kiss by pressing his lips softly on the top of your head. It wasn't a direct part of your face, was it? He closed his eyes for just one short moment because he had to leave soon but he wanted to enjoy every minute he had with you. Maybe aftercare wasn't as bad as he probably thought.

A loud banging at the hotel suite’s door and a loud man’s voice woke him up.

“Sugar? Sugar!” The banging became more violent. “Sugar, are you okay? Sugar, open the door, if not I'll have to break down the door.” It was Walker, deeply concerned because you hadn't been back by the limousine right in time. You also hadn't sent an emergency message. Loki shook you awake when he got aware that you both had fallen asleep.

“Sugar, wake up, Sugar…,” Loki tried to wake you up.

“I'm so tired…I just want…to sleep. Just… a few minutes…just a bit longer…,” you murmured, still sleepy when you heard the banging at the door.

“Sugar, I break the door open! Now!”

All of a sudden you were wide awake. You jumped out of the bed and ran to the door hurriedly. You flung the door open right in time before Walker would break it down.

“I'm okay, Walker, I'm okay,” you gasped in shock, breathing heavily. “Everything is fine,” you told Walker, appeasing.

“Are you sure?” Walker asked concernedly. He peeked into the suite and saw Loki getting dressed.

“Yes, I'm absolutely sure, Walker. I'm so sorry for frightening you but…we…we fell asleep. Mr.Larsson did nothing wrong, I assure you, he behaved decently,” you told Walker and he trusted you. You'd tell him if there was anything that wasn't okay for you. “Please give us a few minutes, we will just get ready,” you asked him.

“Okay, I'll wait for you by the limousine,” Walker answered, throwing a warning look at Loki, who didn't show any reaction towards Walker. You nodded once at Walker and closed the door, leaning against it and taking a deep breath.

“Didn't you tell me, you don't do aftercare?” you questioned Luke teasingly and slightly laughing.

“I did.”

“Do you know what it's called what you did for me in the bathroom and by lying in bed with me sleeping?”

Loki buttoned his shirt upwards, leaving the last three open, buckled his belt, put his waistcoat on, slid into his shoes and looked smilingly at you.

“You tell me,” he asked you and grabbed his jacket from the sofa and his tie from the armchair and draped them over his arm.

“The loveliest aftercare I've ever gotten. Thank you, Luke… also for this wonderful evening, the dress and…”

Loki walked towards you and cupped your head gently between his large hands. They were so soft and felt comfortably cool on your warm skin, that you had to suppress a shiver. He leaned down and pressed a tender, featherlight kiss to your forehead and you closed your eyes.

“No, Luke, please…please don't do that …,” you whispered with teary eyes.

“I know I'm not allowed to kiss your pretty face but I care about you and I want you to know that. I know you could call Walker immediately and tell him to beat me up and throw me out… but it's worth the risk.”

He leaned his forehead slightly against yours and his warm breath fanned over your face. And there it was again. The spicy aroma of something you couldn't specify mixed with his comforting scent of fresh cotton, sandalwood and orange blossoms.

“I just hope that all the other men you meet handle you with all the respect and care you deserve. Thank you for this wonderful evening and night, sweet thing. It was such a pleasure. I felt very comfortable with you. When can we meet again? What about tomorrow?” Loki asked, his voice dark and smooth. He was a picture of pure elegance and arrogance but also gentleness, and his eyes staring longingly at you while waiting for your answer. Would you ever be able to be without him?

“I'm sorry Luke. I already have appointments for the next three evenings.”

“Okay. Then I call the agency tomorrow and ask for another date with you. A club night? Dinner? Would you like that?” He asked you softly.

“Uh hmmh! Sounds good.” You seemed insecure and indifferent but he didn't ask you further.

“Good night, Sugar and take care of you.”

“Good night, Luke… and sleep well.”

Should you hug him? Should you tell him that he's the only one you were sleeping with? Did he already sense it? He had almost left the suite…

“Luke…”,you stopped him in his actions by calling his name and he turned around, facing you. You ran to him and fiercely flung your arms around his neck which obviously caught him off guard. He hugged you back, not knowing what to say.

“Luke Larsson, you might be the only one I take with me to this suite,” you whispered into his ear and for a brief moment you felt safe in the arms of a man who'll never love you back. “Say something …please say something,” you begged him and let go of him to look into his eyes.

He rubbed a thumb tenderly over your lips, his eyes teary.

“You shouldn't be an escort. You should leave the agency. You're too precious for that business. But if you'd do that, I'd never see you again. So I don't know what I should wish for. You being an escort so that I can still meet you but sharing you with other men or knowing you're safe and protected, away from that business but never be able to see you ever again. It both hurts, Sugar… and I know I've already let you come too close to my heart.”

“I can't quit this job, Luke. And maybe someone like you is the only reason that keeps me going. I'd love to meet you again next week. We could go to a nightclub, it doesn't have to be Vivian's Velvet. You can choose another one and afterwards you can have me again,” you offered him, your voice almost breaking. You better contain yourself and not show him that you don't want to let him go.

“In the beginning that was exactly what I didn't want and somehow you convinced me otherwise. You already know that I want to meet you again next week. You, and you alone decide what you want to do afterwards and please don't feel obliged to sleep with me. But you should also know that I'd never deny you. Good night, sweet thing. Promise me to get dressed now and let Walker drive you home. You need some sleep.”

“Promised,” you nodded. He was right. You were tired beyond belief.

When he finally had left, you opened your hair bun, got dressed in casual clothes and Walker drove you home. The whole time until you arrived at your apartment you held the wildflower bouquet in your hand, thinking of him.

“I'm sorry if I scared you, y/n but I was truly concerned.”

“It's okay, Walker, you just did your job. I should be sorry for frightening you… we just fell asleep, I was so tired.”

“Understandable, you are on the road seven days a week. You should take a break. You won't last forever.”

“I know Walker but I have no other choice,” you sighed.

“There's always a choice, y/n…and Mr Larsson likes you if not more,” and he grinned at you through the rear-view mirror, watching you gently touching the flowers Luke had given to you. You smiled tormented back at him.

“He doesn't know me, it's just my pretty shell he likes.”

“You might underestimate him. Sometimes you just have to ask for help and help will be given to you,” Walker told you wisely. Maybe he was right. If it just were that easy.

🌹🥂🌃🌹🥃🌃🌹🥂❤️🌃🌹🥃🌃🌹🥂🌃

Next chapter things will change 👀👀

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