#roman reigns au

[damiansgoodgirll]

OK I found it! (No rush what’s so ever BUT!)

(During Roman’s tribal chief era.)

!Female Reader always had a crush on Roman, but was always too scared to ask him out.

One night during a match Kevin Owens costs her the match, (kinda like how Dom cost Raquel that one time) (you can pick between who ever is on the smackdown roster to have reader up against but it’s also not really required if you don’t want to.)

And basically the bloodline, mainly Roman goes to readers rescue, cause beef with Kevin.

(I know it’s not really…LIKE Roman to do something like that because he’s the tribal chief, but I feel like it would be a nice concept idea.)

Idk just fluff and adorable and what ever cause Roman… LMAO.

sorry it took me so long writing this but i’ve never written for roman and i had no idea on how to start 😭 i hope you like it + the timeline doesn’t really exist here lol

roman reigns x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated

‼️nothing major, hurt/comfort, angry roman, some fluff too, kevin owens is mean here sorry

my weakness

everyone loved roman. yes, he played the big mean guy part and he was definitely good at it but deep down you knew that he cared. he cared for his family, his cousins, the fans, he even cared about his opponents while in the ring. deep down you knew he had a big heart and he was a kind person who pretended to be the bad one.

and maybe it was because of his big mean yet kind personality you caught feelings for him.

it’s not that you were big friends - you had a closer relationship with the usos and your shy personality made it harder for you to get to know him better.

but there were times when you and roman spent some time alone. at the gym, training before a big match or backstage, his presence was nice and even if you didn’t speak much, you enjoyed being around him even if the only present sound was the silence.

unbeknownst to you, roman always admired you. he adored your quite presence. when everyone was noisy around him, he found comfort in your silence. your presence was enough for him.

and his admiration for you didn’t go unnoticed backstage but everyone kept quiet, too scared the tribal chief would get mad if someone said something and they know better to not upset him.

all the locker room knew about that. the saw how roman was nice in your presence but mean with everyone else and even if it made you laugh, you never thought more about that.

even if you had no real beef with anymore backstage, somehow kevin picked you as a main target just to made roman even angrier.

it was going all good on friday night smackdown and you had a match against tiffany - if you won over her, you would get a title shot against nia and after being in the industry for over five years with little to no titles opportunities, you were ready to take it all.

it was your moment to shine, to prove everyone that you deserved to be the women’s champion.

what you didn’t see coming was kevin owen running towards the ring the moment you almost pinned tiffany. you almost had it. but you got distracted by him running and tiffany saw that as an opportunity to stand up and hit you in the back.

you were kinda surprised to see kevin there, why was he even there? he barely talked with you backstage and you pretty sure he wasn’t there to help tiffany as he had no business with her either.

feeling pain in your back, you tried to take back control inside the ring but when kevin got closer to the metal stairs, you and the blonde woman both turned your head towards him.

“what are you doing?” you almost screamed, definitely irritated that he was there to ruin your moment “get down kevin…”

but he stood there, watching the way you and tiffany kept fighting. for the second time that night you had the chance to pin tiffy down but you were too close to the cords and nonchalantly kevin put tiffany’s leg over them.

“what the heck! kevin!” you screamed, even angrier now. you were pretty sure you did him no harm so why was he ruining your moment like that?

at this point you were tired and in pain. kevin was trying to sabotage you and you didn’t know if you had the strength to pin tiffany down for a third time.

meanwhile backstage roman was getting ready for his interview later that night and he had no idea what was happening in the ring. he knew you had a match and he was dying to see it but jimmy forced him to repeat his lines for the interview and he was missing all of your match, until jey came to the tribal chief private locker room and asked him if he knew why was kevin ruining your moment.

roman scrunched his nose, trying to elaborate what his cousin just told him “what did you say?” his tone hard.

“kevin is costing y/n’s title opportunity man, i didn’t even know those two had beef” jey uso repeated.

his words making roman’s blood boil “they don’t” he simply said before he left his changing room.

you fought with every single bone in your body. your head was spinning, your back was killing you and you were tired but you wanted that title opportunity so you kept fighting and for the third time that night you had the chance to pin tiffany down, only for kevin to grab you by the leg and drag your body away from the blonde one.

you couldn’t understand. you really couldn’t.

was it in the script and no one told you?

was your career so pathetic that superiors wanted you out of any title opportunity and instead of telling you, they sent kevin?

your mind was spinning so fast and even faster when your teary eyes met kevin’s eyes. somehow you knew he felt guilty about what he was doing to you and yet he kept going on, dragging your body out of the ring.

you had no strength left so you laid there, hearing the bell ringing, letting tiffany win, and you lose, again.

the crowd erupted in boos, especially since everyone was waiting for your match and cheering for you.

you still laid there, trying to catch your breath again when you suddenly heard the crowd going apeshit.

a very mad roman reigns was running towards kevin owens and punched him right in the face. you quickly stood up, surprised he was even there.

you stood by the ring, a hand behind your back as you tried to catch your breath once again. jimmy and jey coming to your rescue as you all watched roman dragging kevin inside the ring “your beef is with me, now with her…you’re gonna pay for this” he whispered, almost as a promise before leaving the ring.

the crowd was cheering, thinking that it was all part of a script and some even thought that you were going to join the bloodline but you honestly had no idea what was happening.

you saw roman waking towards you, his eves never leaving your body “you okay?” he asked but you were too confused that didn’t even answer “let’s get you backstage…” and for the first time you saw the twins walking in front of him as. roman’s hand gently moved to your back as he helped you walking away from the scene.

medical staff checked you out and luckily you had nothing broken. you were just in a big uncomfortable pain.

roman brought you to his changing room, telling jey and jimmy to go somewhere else as he wanted to speak with you - alone.

“are you okay y/n?” he asked once you sat down on his couch.

“yeah, i think so…” your voice trembled. you definitely weren’t okay. you didn’t even know what happened in the last thirty minutes. your brain couldn’t comprehend it.

“you’re not okay…come here” he gently sat next to you and engulfed you in his big arms. you didn’t even realise you started crying. soft whimpers left your body as roman stroked his hand over your back “kevin is gonna pay for what he did” he said with stern voice.

you looked up at him, quickly wiping your tears away “i don’t think i’ve ever been mean or rude to him, why would he cost me the only title opportunity i’ve been given in five years?” you said mostly to yourself.

“because of me…” roman didn’t want to confess. he didn’t want to ruin the little friendship you two had.

your look quite confused “you?”

“yeah me…” he took a deep breath “because the men in the locker room know…”

“they know what?” you couldn’t understand what he was trying to say.

“that you’re my weakness…” he tried to avoid your look as you watched him with big eyes “you’re my weakness, i never felt like this and they know it…they know i have feelings for you but no one ever said anything…except for kevin, who thought that ruining your moment was okay…he did it because of me, he probably feels like shit knowing that he fucked you up but he got my reaction, he pissed me off and that was his goal” he exhaled once he was finished.

you stayed there, trying to assemble what roman just told you. he liked you, kevin used you to piss roman off and roman defended you, because, again, he had feelings for you.

“you have feelings for me?” you whispered, fearing that if you said it out loud it would have been fake.

“yes…”

“you, the roman reigns, the tribal chief, you have feelings for me?” you whispered again, making roman chuckle this time “am i dreaming? that’s the only possible explanation, i am dreaming…”

his strong voice chuckled again “i promise you that you’re more than awake…”

“why didn’t you say anything about it? we could have avoided a lot of silence conversations…” you asked.

“because i didn’t know, i still don’t know what the outcome of my confession is…i didn’t want to lose you and in all honesty i loved being in your silent comforting presence” he smiled, making you smile back.

you looked at him, trying to find any sign that he was lying but when you find none, you moved closer to rest your lips upon his bigger ones. it was a soft kiss, the both of you testing the waters.

“this would have been the outcome if you told me earlier…” you whispered against his lips, making him laugh.

the title opportunity long forgotten when roman gently moved you over his lap and deepened the kiss.

“i can’t believe you like me…” you whispered, too stunned to believe what just happened.

“i’ve been liking you since you joined the roster…i should have said something earlier…” he said softly while his hand softly stroked your cheek “but i’m glad i did it now…” he kissed you back feeling you smile against his lips.

after a couple of minutes of softly making out, you both got distracted by the twins knocking on roman’s door.

“not now” he said, a stern voice while you tried not to laugh.

“we just wanted to remind you of the interview…” jimmy voice said and you felt romantic scoffing, clearly annoyed to be doing that interview.

“i’ll be out in five” he screamed back and began to kiss you again when he felt the twins walking away from his locker room.

“as much as i love this, you have work to do…” you reminded him, getting an annoyed look by him.

moving back to sitting on the couch, you let roman getting ready as you admired him. he smirked feeling your look on him, especially when you tried to look away.

“i promise you, you’ll get your title opportunity back and no one will interfere this time, you have the bloodline protection, that’s a promise” he said, promising you.

of course you believed him - you knew how important he was in the game and he knew that if he asked hunter for a little favour, he wouldn’t say no.

“once i’m done with my interview, i’ll come back here and then we’ll finish what we started, back at my hotel” he smirked again before leaving the room.

you watched him leave, not being able to answer back. your mouth agape at the idea of spending even more time with roman - maybe, after all, it wasn’t a bad night.

[msbigredmachine]

The Boy Next Door: Chapter Two

MASTERLIST ✨ harmshake's masterlist ✨ msbigredmachine's masterlist

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, language, angst, violence

Banner made by me. Credit to the owners of the other pics and gifs.

“Uhhnnn, fuck...baby I’m comin’...”

Angelo’s deep, rough voice broke as he yanked a little too hard on Ivy’s hair, causing her to wince from the sharp pain. He thrust inside her just as hard a few more times before his body seized up, his pelvis mashed against her backside to make her feel him pulsing inside her as he came. Not for the first time, she was thankful condoms were a thing and she always insisted that he had one on him before he touched her; there was no doubt he would get her pregnant the next chance he got with the aim of tethering himself even deeper into her life. It was apparent in the desperation with which his admittedly above-average dick dug all up in her pussy every time they got together. On the bright side, his efforts got the job done…Well, that, along with the frantic circling of her fingers around her clit that never failed to drag her to a long-awaited nut that currently had her moaning noisily into her bamboo sheets. Thank goodness her daughter was a long way down the hallway, fast asleep in her four-poster bed, oblivious to the late night goings-on of her dysfunctional parents.

She hissed with relief when Angelo finally released his vice grip, flopping onto his back, his sweat-slick chest heaving up and down. The same old routine followed, with him lazily and unwisely reaching out for a cuddle, prompting her standard rebuff of rolling away from him. She waited patiently for the gradual shift in his breathing, from heavy to relaxed, signaling that he was out like a light. Glancing over to confirm, she rolled her eyes with a huff. This dude left the condom on. Again. Even in his sleep, he was making her clean up after him. Exhaling heavily, she reached over to carefully slide the thin latex off his dick and tie it up in a knot, climbing out of the bed to dump it in the trash can nearby. 

The lights illuminating the paved streets outside her home seeped through her bedroom windows, shedding more light than was necessary considering it was deep into the night. She padded over to the window to draw down the roller blinds, making a mental reminder to herself to keep them closed more often now that the house across was occupied. Her fingers wavered when she noticed that the lights of his bedroom were still on. It piqued her curiosity as to what would be keeping him awake at this late hour. Work, perhaps?

And then, almost on cue, the hulking figure of her new neighbor came into view, and her breath caught.

Roman stepped out of what was probably his bathroom, his towel hanging dangerously low around his waist. His hair was down, long, silky and clearly wet, the droplets of water glistening against his bare chest. He was walking around the room, seemingly acquainting himself with the new space. Ivy was on the money with the athletic physique, unable to take her eyes off his bulging muscles, the ridges of his abs, and the intricate tribal tattoos adorning his right arm, pec and half of his back that only embellished the majesty and beauty of this stranger. Standing there like the voyeur she’d become, she allowed her mind to wander, to wonder what those taut, rippling muscles would feel like pressed against her nakedness, his long hair fanning her face as his big body pinned her down…his voice, deep and rough and needy in her ear, talking her through her pleasure…

So entranced was she in her fantasy that she didn’t realize he had pivoted in her direction, fully facing the window, until it was almost too late. Her eyes widened as his hands slid south, unraveling the towel from his waist…

Gasping in alarm, she quickly turned away, fumbling with the blinds to snatch them shut. She leaned against the wall, her cheeks blazing, hand on her hammering heart as it dawned on her that she’d almost seen him naked.

And yet, as scandalized as she was, a small part of her wished she did. 

Damn.

Willing away the disappointment and the stirring in her loins, she dragged herself back to bed, hoping she would get some sleep.

Morning arrived too quickly for her liking, and she was up too early considering it was her day off, with her next shift not until tomorrow. Untangling herself carefully from Angelo’s clingy grasp, she rolled onto her side and checked the time on her phone charging on her nightstand. Seven a.m. was a decent hour to take Duchess out for a morning walk and be back home in time for Zaia to be out of bed so they could make red velvet pancakes together, assuming she wouldn’t be glued to her father’s side like she liked to be. 

Climbing out of bed carefully so as not to wake Angelo and kick off her day on a sour note, she threw on a forest-green sports bra and matching leggings from Actively Black, along with a pair of Nike sneakers, and wrapped up her hair in a bun on top of her head. Grabbing her phone and headphones, she stopped by Zaia’s room to check on her. As expected, her baby was sound asleep, buried beneath her Disney Princesses duvet. Ivy would have woken her up to join her but she wanted her to rest; she’d worked so hard all week in school and with her chores and therefore earned this Saturday morning lie-in. 

Laying by Zaia’s bedside, Duchess’ head snapped up when the door opened. She bolted across the room towards Ivy, her tail wagging excitedly, bouncing on her hind legs and pawing at her mama’s shins.

"Hi, girl! You awake? You’re a good girl, yes, you are!" Ivy cooed softly, shutting the bedroom door quietly before lifting Duchess in her arms to be attacked with excited licks and doggy breath. "Come on, let’s go for a walk." Grabbing her leash, harness and a water bottle, she headed downstairs and out the door. 

The route was a simple one, the expanse of tarred road sandwiched between rows of houses of various sizes and styles leading down a winding path to the public park. The weather was perfect, the fresh air sweeping over Ivy's face with a calming, peaceful feeling that was a stark contrast from the controlled chaos of her life. She let Duchess lead the way, the little dog stopping every now and then to sniff a tree or bark at an innocent squirrel. Another sharp turn round the bend brought them to the entrance of the dog park. Lowering her headphones around her neck, Ivy settled down on a nearby bench, watching Duchess run towards the puppy playground. It was relatively empty with just two other owners and their equally small dogs, but she was sure she’d leave once it became crowded. To pass the time, she scrolled through her unread emails, responding to the urgent ones while keeping a watchful eye on Duchess. A flash of movement to her left caught her attention, and looking up, her heart raced in her chest.

Slowing down to a stop on the pedestrian path, dusting his knees off, was Roman. Even with a beanie and a hoodie covering his head, there was no mistaking his striking features; the prominent cheekbones, the sharp jawline framed by his thick beard. His long-sleeved Nike shirt clung to his upper body, straining the fabric’s futile attempt to contain the burgeoning muscles underneath. Ivy found herself taking a swig of her water due to the heat that had nothing to do with the morning sun.

She shouldn’t have disturbed him. She should have let him go about his day - but her mouth and hand moved faster than her brain, waving from her seat, “Hey Roman!” She watched him glance around in search of her voice, a hint of apprehension on his handsome face before his eyes landed on her. His tight frown bloomed into a bright smile that sparked a sensation similar to the one last night when she was ‘spying’ on him. The way he walked exuded confidence and power, commanding the space around him, as she noticed, to her chagrin, other women doing double takes as he passed by them. 

"Wassup, neighbor? This seat taken?" he asked.

"Not at all,” she answered, a little too eagerly as he settled down on the opposite side of her bench, keeping a respectable gap between them which allowed her to gawk…respectfully. His dri-fit shorts accentuated the thickness of his thigh muscles that flexed when he shifted, inadvertently drawing her eyes there. She’d seen a lot of him last night and internally she craved more, craved to see exactly what lay underneath. The sunlight enriched his caramel skin, the light sheen of sweat giving him a vibrant glow. Ivy swallowed hard, willing herself to remain composed. “How’s your morning going?” she asked.

“Great, now that I’m talkin’ to you,” Roman smiled at her, leaning back in his seat to admire her in her sports bra and high-waist tights, her afro curls piled high on top of her head. “You look really nice.”

The blush threatened to burn her cheeks as she tugged shyly at her top. “Thanks. It’s just sportswear though.”

“Maybe, but that don’t change what I said,” he insisted, his deep brown eyes deliberately scanning her body. A shiver swept up her spine at the growing intensity as he looked at her. Flustered, she played it off by looking around for Duchess who happened to be just a foot away, racing two other dogs around the canine condo.

“I see you came alone,” Roman observed, “Your little girl alright?”

“She’s good. Sleeping in. She’s been a busy bee all week so she’s earned the rest. We’re gonna make pancakes when I get back.”

“Hmm, sounds delicious. I heard you call her Zaia? Am I right?”

“Correct. It means ‘precious’ in Arabic.” A fond smile fell over her features at the thought of her bright, beautiful little six-year old angel.

Roman nodded, digesting the information. “It's a great name. Pretty, just like her mama’s.” 

Ivy looked away, her grin now bashful. “Here you go again with the compliments.”

“We still on that, huh? You do owe me a couple yourself,” Roman replied with a cute smirk that made her warm all over. “I’m still working on it, tryna find the right time,” she joked.

“Any time is a good time for a compliment.” His smile faltered, his cheery tone hardening slightly, “Unless you’re worried about the boyfriend. He still bein’ a headache?” 

Ivy scoffed. She’d almost forgotten about him. Almost. “He's not my boyfriend. We share a child, that’s it.”

“Oh? He made it pretty clear when he was all over you and then tried to jump me.”

She almost laughed at that. One look at Roman quickly erased any scenario where he could be jumped. “About that…I’m really sorry…he can be a little…assertive sometimes,” she began.

But Roman shook his head, his nose turned up. “Don’t apologize for him. He might be your kid’s father but you’re not responsible for his foolishness.”

Most times he didn’t give her a choice in the matter, forced to deal with the mess afterwards. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” she sighed.

“That’s my point. There shouldn’t be a next time,” he replied, staring into her eyes, the sincerity radiating from them unnerving her a little. Her issues with Angelo was the last thing she wanted to talk about, especially with a relative stranger. Thankfully she was given a way out as the playground started to fill up with more people. “Well, I’ve been out long enough. It’s time I headed home,” she announced, getting to her feet. “Duchess! Come here, girl!”

"Cute little puppy. How long have you had her for?" Roman enquired, watching her hook the leash and harness around the puppy.

"About three months. She was Zaia’s birthday present from my friend Gemini. She’ll be eight months old next week. She and Zaia keep me fit with their combined energy," Ivy explained with a laugh, going quiet for a moment. “What happened to your hand, by the way?” She nodded at the white crepe bandage wrapped around his left hand that was peeking through his sleeve. 

Glancing down, he cleared his throat and shifted his hand out of view, seemingly embarrassed by his injury. “Oh. Knife wound. I was meal prepping and accidentally sliced my palm. A little bit of bleeding but nothing I can’t handle.”

“Wow, that must have hurt. I can take a look at it if you want, make sure it’s-”

Roman smiled and waved away her concern. “I know that’s your nurse instincts poppin’ out, but I’m fine. Don’t worry your pretty little self. But who knows? Maybe somewhere down the road I might need you for…other things,” he finished with a sly wink.

The lowered bass of his voice had Ivy biting her lip at the blatant innuendo, not missing the way his eyes flickered to her mouth. She grinned sheepishly and shook her head, tugging gently on Duchess’ leash. “Alright then, I’ll leave you to your workout…”

“I’m done, actually, and I’m about to head home. I can drop you off too, if you'd like. I drove here,” Roman offered.

For a split second, she imagined Angelo’s reaction to her pulling up in another man’s car. But the visual was gone as quickly as it surfaced. It was none of his business. “Sure.” 

As they approached the parking lot, her eyes widened as he remotely unlocked the doors to a shiny, sleek black Maserati GranCabrio. “Is that yours? Oh, you ballin’, ballin’,” she remarked, noting the blush creep up his cheeks as he opened the passenger’s door for her. “I do alright,” he mumbled.

“Wow. What do you do? I don’t think I’ve asked.” 

“I’m a Senior Finance Manager at an accounting firm downtown,” he answered, starting the car and letting the top down. “But I also freelance for private individuals, angel investors, pro and college athletes. I mainly work remotely, so you’ll be seeing me at home often.”

Ivy settled in her seat, awed by the lush beige color of the interior, feeling slightly intimidated being inside such an expensive car. “Well, they’re treating you real well,” she said. 

“They’d better, I work my ass off for ‘em,” Roman chortled, backing out of the parking lot. 

Conversation flowed easily on the drive home. Ivy did her best to keep her eyes on the road, but she couldn’t resist taking the occasional peek at Roman while they chatted. She noticed he was doing the same, sprouting more butterflies in her belly. As they pulled up to their street, he killed the engine next to his sidewalk. A tentative silence fell between them that would probably have been suffocating if it weren’t for Duchess’ routine panting. Ivy dared another glance at the big man, the feeling in her stomach intensifying as those gorgeous eyes of his lingered on her again.

“Thanks for the ride, I appreciate it,” she whispered, gathering Duchess in her arms.

Roman smiled. “Not a problem. Tell Zaia I said hi.”

“I will.” Another long look, another grateful grin before she stepped out of the car and crossed the street towards her front door, fully aware that his gaze was still on her, fully aware that she liked his gaze on her. A lot.

However, a deep frown replaced her giddy smile when the door swung open, Angelo standing there, his face like thunder. The darkening of his light eyes as he glanced over her shoulder and the sound of the Maserati’s door slamming shut told her the two men had locked metaphorical horns, the tension pulsing from both sides.

“What the fuck! I know I ain’t just seen you come out of his car,” Angelo hissed.

“Wassup, man. Ivy, you good?” Roman called out behind her. Stoking the fire.

Quick to douse it before it raged, Ivy threw a smile his way. “I’m fine! Thanks again!” Not waiting for a reply, she ushered Angelo back into the house and set Duchess on her feet, the puppy immediately dashing away in search of Zaia. “If you must know, I ran into him at the park and he offered to bring me home,” she explained, entering the kitchen. “I had to apologize to him for that disrespectful crap you pulled yesterday. I get along with all my neighbors and you’re not about to fuck that up for me.”

“Get along, huh? Zaia coulda seen you. How you think that’s gonna look, her mama joyriding with some other dude, huh?” Angelo demanded, his eyes narrowed accusingly.

Incensed, Ivy spun around, glared at him. “Are you using my daughter to gaslight me, Angelo? Seriously?”

“Our daughter, Ivy! You out here lookin’ like a thot and for what? Is that the example you wanna set for our kid? Where’s your sense of self-respect?”

Clearly, the audacity of the man she called her daughter’s father knew no bounds. “Respect?! Like the respect you showed me when you cheated on me?” Ivy countered, crossing her arms, fire in her eyes. “When you only came crawling back because that bitch dumped your slow ass and left for California? When you refused to be in ‘your kid’s’ life until you had a DNA test done, despite your dumbass knowing you’re the only one I was with? Refresh my memory, Angelo!” 

Silence. Deafening. Tense. Truth.

Angelo shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he spoke, his tone low and exasperated. “Why you keep doin’ this shit, Ivy? How many times do I gotta apologize for that?”

“I don’t want your apology. I don’t need it,” she snapped. “You lost my trust a long time ago and nothing you say or do will ever change that. Period.” She trailed off, focusing on the clock on the wall like she’d learned to rein in her emotions. It was only eight o’clock and she had a headache already. Rinse and repeat. “Don’t you got some conference to be at?” she threw at him, eager for him to be out of her face.

Bristling at her harsh dismissal, Angelo sucked his teeth, snatching his belongings off the countertop. “Ol’ meathead ass gives you some attention and now you got a fucking attitude.” His sigh was heavy and dramatic as he finally, thankfully walked away. Her eyes closed with a sigh of her own, the familiar gnawing in her chest surfacing as she overheard her daughter’s sniffles from the living room pleading with her daddy not to go, him soothing her and promising that he would be back soon. Her heart broke for Zaia, but selfishly, she was glad he was out of her space, even going as far as to wish, yet again, that he could take it one step further and be out of her life, too.

A crime documentary come to life. 

The news reporter stood in the neck of the woods, under the shaded protection of a few giant sequoias and a couple of smaller deciduous trees, a short distance away from a clearing that was cordoned off with caution tape guarded by several uniformed cops. In the background, a body bag was being loaded onto a gurney. The face of the victim splashed across the screen made Ivy’s blood run cold.

She’d seen the young woman, Rhea, just three days ago at the hospital. They didn’t interact, but she was hard to forget with her pale skin, numerous tattoos and goth clothing that stood her out from all the other patients at the Gynecology ward. Never did Ivy imagine she’d be dead just days later. Murdered. The news said she had been reported missing yesterday and was found by a jogger, bound and gagged with her throat slit from ear to ear. The woods were close to the dog park, so to know that such a horrific crime was committed so nearby, while she was out there just this morning with Duchess, sent chills down her spine.

“I’m still in shock,” she confided in her best friend Gemini over FaceTime, adjusting her iPad on her kitchen island. “I remember seeing her in the hospital earlier this week. She was so young, barely in her twenties. Who could have done that to her?”

“That’s what everyone’s trying to figure out,” Gemini said, her expression grim as she lounged on her patio. “I spoke to Officer Gable. He says she was killed in her home then her body was dumped in the woods either last night or early this morning.” She dropped another bombshell. “And get this…this hasn’t been made public yet, but they also found a positive pregnancy test in her backpack.”

Ivy clapped a hand over her mouth, floored. That poor girl was pregnant?! “Oh my god.”  

“I know, it’s wild. They’re looking for her boyfriend, Dominik. Apparently he’s outta town but they’re ruling him as the prime suspect,” Gemini went on, “If you ask me, I think there might be a serial killer on the loose. She’s not the only one that’s turned up dead in the last few months in the surrounding counties.”

If it weren’t for the severity of the situation, Ivy would have rolled her eyes. “What? Gem, don’t start with all that again.”

“Girl, you haven’t been following this like I have. Similar cases happened in the last three months in Fairfield and Middlesex. A couple of twenty-something year old women. Throats slit, dumped in ditches and bushes. The M.O.’s are all the same.”

Casting a quick glance over at the living room where Zaia was dancing with Duchess to ‘The Veggie Dance’ by Gracie’s Corner, Ivy shifted to a quieter side of the kitchen to prevent her baby from overhearing this gruesome conversation. “Well, let’s not jump to conclusions when the police don’t even have all the facts. What does the group think about this?” she asked, referring to the local Neighborhood Watch of which Gemini was a member. In the three years she had lived here, they had only dealt with vandalism and break-ins. To her knowledge, nothing this violent had ever occurred in this harmless, almost sleepy little town, and it spooked Ivy that it happened so close to home.

“We’re having a meeting tomorrow to update everyone and address safety concerns we know will be brought up. Make sure no one’s panicking unnecessarily.” Gemini chuckled at the trepidation on her friend’s face. “Girl, relax. Zaia, Duchess and I will protect you.” There was a brief pause as she stood up from her lounge chair and walked around her backyard pool. “Want me to come over later? I haven’t seen my two babies in a while.”

Enticed by the thought of having company that wasn’t Angelo, Ivy happily replied, “Of course, babe, you never have to ask. How about dinner tonight?” 

“You know I could never say no to your cooking.” Gemini wrinkled her nose. “But if that bitch baby daddy of yours is still lurkin’ then I’ll pass.”

“Nope. He’s away for the weekend,” Ivy assured her.

“When will I hear he’s away for good?” Gemini prodded, her words drawing a sigh of defeat from Ivy. It said a lot that none of her friends got along with Angelo. If she had a dime for every time Gemini warned her to get rid of him, she’d be living in the Hamptons instead. But she understood that she was only looking out for her and she would always appreciate it and reciprocate accordingly.

Beautiful, wisecracking and often cynical, Gemini was a successful, high-powered corporate lawyer with a love for fashion trends and (Ivy called this an obsession) crime and mystery shows that fed into her crazy, oft-amusing conspiracy theories. Like Ivy, she often had it tough with relationships, swearing off men every couple of months. It didn’t help that suitors were usually intimidated by her financial status and her brash, blunt nature. But all of that also came with a heart of gold. Ivy would never forget her hospitality, being the first to welcome her and Zaia with open arms when she first arrived in town. Helping her secure the mortgage on her house. Taking Zaia to the local dog shelter on her birthday and pairing her little girl with the most loyal companion she would probably ever have. She was the life of the party everywhere she went, including Ivy’s household, as she sauntered through her doorstep later that evening with a big bottle of Pinot Noir and an even bigger hug for her favorite niece. The wine was very welcome, as Ivy was forced to abstain around Angelo who was a recovering alcoholic. 

Together, the women moved the food to the dining table, with little Zaia playing her role as the dutiful assistant to her mama and aunt and filling up Duchess’ food and water bowls. As they settled down to eat, a knock on the front door startled them, their heads whipping in its direction. Gemini exchanged a look with Ivy. “Expecting someone else?” 

“No…” With a heightened sense of caution, Ivy crept towards the door and opened it, surprised to see Roman standing behind it. “Hey,” she greeted, a hint of concern in her tone. “What’s up? Everything alright?”

“Hi…wow,” His greeting was distracted, rendered temporarily speechless as he took in her sweater minidress that clung to her generous curves. “Uh…sorry if this is a bad time, but I was wondering if I can borrow some sugar? I’m trying to bake cookies for my office party in the morning and I haven’t got time to run to the store.” Scratching the back of his head sheepishly, he continued, “I know it’s cliche as hell, but I thought I’d come over and ask since your cooking smells so delicious.” 

Corny request or not, it was way too charming to turn down. Not that she would. “Mr. Compliments does it again. Come on in.” She motioned for him to follow her inside and into the warm, homey atmosphere of her kitchen. His eyes glossed over the spread of food on the table, then fell upon the two other sets of eyes staring back at him, one innocent, the other suspicious. “I see I’ve interrupted dinner, sorry about that, ladies,” he said, a demure, friendly smile gracing his lips as he waved.

Gemini got to her feet, almost burning a hole through this stranger with her sharp gaze. “Ivy, who is this?” she demanded with an attitude, making Ivy shake her head behind Roman’s back. Her friend always had a hard time warming up to new people.

“Gem, this is Roman, my new neighbor. He moved across the street a couple of days ago. Roman, this is my friend Gemini,” she introduced them, watching Roman extend his hand, the other woman hesitating for a long beat before shaking it. “Hi, Gemini. Nice to meet you.”

Gemini gave him a tight smile. “Hi. So you’re the one who got that big ass house.”

Well, that went as well as it could have.

“Zaia, wanna say hello to Mr Roman?” Ivy encouraged her daughter. The little girl cocked her head to the side, and Roman noticed how much she resembled Ivy at that moment. “Hello, Mr Roman. You’re really tall,” she pointed out, her eyes filled with awe. 

“Thank you Zaia, I get that a lot,” he laughed, crouching down to pet Duchess who had bounded over happily, recognizing him from earlier this morning. Ivy rummaged through her walnut kitchen cabinets looking for the bag of sugar she had purchased a month or two ago. Locating it, she handed it to Roman along with a small-sized cookbook. “Here. You can use as much as you need. And I earmarked the page for the recipe for chocolate chip cookies, in case you need it.”

“You are so kind. I appreciate that,” said Roman, his deep brown eyes shifting downwards shyly. The subtle action did something to her, compelling her to utter next,

“Would you like to stay for dinner? We’re having Cajun chicken pasta and Caesar salad,” she spoke up, ignoring the look Gemini leveled at her. It was the way his eyes softened right away, clearly touched by her gesture, that let her know she did the right thing.

“I’d love to.” His smile lit up the room, warming Ivy’s heart. This was her house. She could invite anyone she wanted. Attraction aside, Roman seemed like a really sweet guy that just needed new friends in this new town.

In no time though, he and Zaia became fast friends, discussing everything from their favorite cartoons and hobbies to their favorite subjects at school, and the rather funnier topic of why the adults could have wine and she couldn’t. Even Gemini seemed to warm up to him over the course of dinner, also seduced by his charm and wit. Watching them all talking and laughing caused a funny sensation to stir within Ivy, but she banished any wayward thoughts before they had the chance to settle. 

Afterwards, Roman began to gather dishes and stand, prompting Ivy to rush over before he could move too far. “Er, no booboo. You’re a guest here.” She turned to her daughter. "Baby, why don't you take your fruit salads to the living room and turn on the TV for Mr Roman?” she suggested.

“Yes, ma’am! Come on, Mr Roman.” Zaia’s little fingers closed around his thick forearm, Roman briefly glancing back at her mother as he was all but dragged away, Ivy simply giving him a reassuring smile as they disappeared from the kitchen.

“You like him.” 

Never one to beat around the bush, was she? Gemini’s words shook Ivy inwardly as she fought to maintain a poker face. “Girl, we’ve only known each other for a couple of days.”

“And he likes you,” Gemini continued, easily rebuffing her lame excuses. “I saw the way y’all kept looking at each other, you giggling like a damn school girl at his jokes. You could cut the tension with a damn steak knife. I wonder how Angelo’s gonna feel about that.”

Ivy raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you care about Angelo’s feelings?” 

“Never. But I bet he’d combust into flames if he was here,” Gemini smiled evilly.

Sighing heavily, Ivy loaded the last plate in the dishwasher. “Do you know he got into it with Roman on the first day? A whole shouting match. Barely twenty-four hours since the new neighbor moved in and he’s already fighting the guy. This was just me kinda trying to make up for it.”

“What?! I’d love to see that fight. My money’s on the dude that looks like a linebacker.” The stretch of silence that followed was ominous, and Ivy could already forecast her next words. “I’ll admit. He seems…nice. Sexy as hell. Charming and all that shit. But I need you to be careful, hun. There's an energy about him that I can’t put my finger on.”

Unsure she was ready for this lecture, Ivy rubbed her temples. “Judgmental much? You only just met him.”

“I’m good at reading people. You know this.”

“And I’m just being a good neighbor. You know this.”

“I do. You can’t help yourself, my sweet, wonderful bestie,” Gemini playfully nudged her friend with her shoulder. “But don’t forget you have a young daughter to look out for. I don’t want either of you to get hurt by getting too close too fast.”

Taking in a calming breath, Ivy spoke again, slow and measured to keep the peace. “Gem. I love you and I appreciate you always. But I’ll be okay. I promise,” she answered, her eyes shining with resolve.

As the two women continued to gossip, Roman stood silently by the entrance of the kitchen, his expression unreadable as he listened to every word.

Another long, tough week segued to another weekend of needed rest which found Ivy relaxing in her newly purchased hanging daybed, watching her daughter and her puppy play together as 2000s R&B tunes wafted through the Bluetooth speakers stationed in her backyard. However, her watchful eye was a bit distracted today as it kept glancing over her picket fence for any sign of Roman, who seemed to have vanished without a trace in the past few days. His outdoor chairs remained unoccupied, no coffee mug on his side tables, the house as quiet and empty as it was before he moved in. The serial killer discourse with Gemini and the feedback from the Neighborhood Watch had her feeling slightly more agitated these days, and as absurd as it was, she found herself hoping that her new neighbor hadn’t suffered the same fate as Rhea…

There was no need to worry. Maybe he was caught up with work, or was away visiting friends or family. Either way, she found herself missing his looming yet comforting presence, missed seeing the crinkles around his eyes that accompanied his sunny smile, longed for the longing glances they’d shared far too many times to count now... 

Blowing out her cheeks, she leaned back and closed her eyes, hoping to clear her head. For someone who she just met, he was on the brain way too much. She hadn’t felt this way about anyone in a long time and she wasn’t sure how to feel about it. At all.

“Hi Mr Roman!”

Zaia’s excited voice, as well as the deep one that followed her daughter’s greeting, startled her from her thoughts as her eyes flew back open, landing on his big frame as he stood at the fence that separated their homes. Ivy rose to her feet, trying to ignore the relief, excitement and nervousness bubbling inside her as she approached him slowly, their eyes locked. Other than the bags forming under his irises, he was still as handsome as ever, his cable-knit sweater and dark jeans giving off that polished, modelesque aesthetic she’d become accustomed to.

“Hey, pretty lady,” he said to her, the sound of his voice deep and soothing and sorely missed.

“Hey, stranger. Been a minute. Are you okay?” she asked, getting her answer from the way he dragged a big hand down his face with a loaded sigh. She noticed the bandage was gone. “How’s your hand?”

“Good as new.” Roman lifted his now bare hand and rotated it for emphasis. “As for my absence, just work stuff. Back-to-back late hours. It be like that sometimes. I hope you didn’t miss me too much.” He met her stare with a knowing smile, the same smile that made her swoon since the day they first met, and not the first time had her averting her gaze, tugging coyly at the hem of her retro Backstreet Boys t-shirt. 

“I never got to properly thank you for dinner, and for the cookie recipe,” he continued, “It was a big hit at the office, everyone loved it.”

Ivy beamed. “Aww, that’s so sweet. I’m glad to hear that.” 

“Man, you saved my ass, that’s for sure. You’ve been so wonderful to me, Ivy, and I was hoping I could repay it by taking you out to dinner sometime.” Gauging her raised eyebrows, he chuckled softly as he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Ay, I woulda stayed home and cooked somethin’, but my skills could never measure up to yours or my wife’s.”

Wife.

This was the first time he’d mentioned a spouse of any kind. There was no ring on his finger, so there was a story there, one she felt compelled to know more about.

“Your wife…Is she not here with you?” she asked, treading lightly on what she could already tell was a sensitive subject.

Roman was silent for a moment, then when he spoke again, his voice was a little more than a hoarse whisper. “Nah, she isn't. She, uh, passed away last year.”

That explained it. The haunted expression she perceived lurking behind the vibrance of his eyes. Carrying the burden of grief and heartbreak that she empathized with more than he would ever know. “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry,” she whispered. 

Clearing his throat, he managed a nod, returning the sincere look she gave him. “Thanks. It’s been…rough, to say the least. But I’m hangin’ in there. One day at a time, ya know?”

He looked so sad, so worn down by opening up about his loss, and it tugged at her heartstrings. Without thinking, she reached out to rub his arm, offering him comfort, solace. When his eyes shut at her touch, she feared she had toed a line, crossed it, even. Until he opened them again, the sadness wiped away by a searing heat she felt in her bones. Her heart raced as he shifted their hands to link their fingers together, sending a defibrillator’s worth of electricity through her curvy figure. Fuck. He was looking at her that way again. All intense and serious and sexy and all sorts of tempting. She didn’t want him to ever look away. 

There was no denying the mutual attraction that simmered between them. It was clear as day. But it was also clear that he was still grieving and was lonely and craved some semblance of comfort. Yet, she found herself wanting to give him that comfort. She wanted to get to know him. She wanted to jump over the fence and into his sturdy arms, wanted to kiss those soft-looking lips of his. To know what his hair felt like between her fingers…

How she missed it, she wasn’t sure. The roar of the engine of the Lexus pulling into the driveway, the owner of the vehicle storming through her house. She’d been so lost in Roman and in his aura and the intimate moment they were sharing that she hadn’t even heard Angelo barreling into her home like he always did until he was standing in front of them. Her deer-in-the-headlights countenance could not have helped her cause as Angelo looked from her to Roman and then back again, zoning in on their entwined hands, the bewilderment on his face giving way to blind wrath. 

“Motherfucker, I thought I told you to stay away from my girl!” Swiping Ivy aside with enough force to send her crashing against the fence, he shoved Roman hard in the chest, knocking him a few steps back. “Oh I see what this is! You wanna fuck my woman, huh?” 

“Angelo stop!” Ivy yelled as in the distance, Zaia began to cry. Grimacing through her pain, she tugged him by the arm and dragged him forcibly away, which was a tough task as he was nearly a foot taller than her, outweighed her by a good fifty pounds and vibrated with misplaced rage. Glancing behind her, she watched with an almost morbid fascination as Roman’s disposition completely shifted, his gorgeous face twisted with unbridled fury. 

“You put your fucking hands on me?!” In what seemed like slow motion, the much bigger and much taller man leapt smoothly over her fence like it was nothing. He propelled forwards with long strides like an angry bull across her backyard and into her house in a matter of seconds. “A’ight, I’m tired of being humble! You wanna fuss like a lil’ bitch, let’s go!” 

Guiding Zaia and Duchess to safety, Ivy’s anxiety reached a fever pitch as the two men stood literally nose to nose sizing each other up in the middle of her living room. “Guys, please! Zaia’s here!” she pleaded.

Angelo puffed out his chest as he eyeballed his adversary smugly. “Don’t get yourself hurt cuz you tryna comfort my bitch or my kid when I ain’t around. You in my house, fool,” he threatened.

Thick eyebrows raised in cruel amusement, Roman looked around the house. “Funny, I don’t see your name or your face anywhere.” He leaned in closer, his next words loud enough for only the other man to hear, “But pretty soon, your bitch gon’ be screamin’ my name and sittin’ on my face,” he bragged, pointing at his chin, hoping, praying that the punk bitch would take the bait. 

Too easy.

With teeth bared, Angelo swung at him. Wildly and carelessly enough for Roman to dodge easily and retaliate with his huge fist smashing into the other man’s face. There was an ugly cracking sound, and blood spurted from Angelo’s nose as his head snapped back and he stumbled backwards.

“Stop it! Stop it right now!” Ivy cried, but it was to no avail as Angelo lunged again, crashing into Roman. She threw herself between them, trying and woefully failing to pull the warring men apart who were seeing nothing but red as they beat the crap out of each other.

“Daddy, stop fighting! You’re gonna hurt Mama!”

Zaia, bless her brave little heart, was at her father’s side, tugging desperately on his sleeve. It all happened so fast, Ivy only able to see the moment Angelo lashed out blindly, his hand smacking Zaia right in the face. Her scream of pain as her little body collapsed on the ground pierced the air, plunging the room into stone cold silence.

“Mama!” Zaia burst into fresh tears as she clutched her face with one hand, the other reaching out to Ivy who quickly rushed over, scooping her into her arms and gently cradling her little head as she wailed loudly and clutched at Ivy for dear life.

A bloodied Angelo clambered to his feet, visibly devastated by his mistake. “Baby…Princess, I’m so sorry…Daddy didn't mean—”

“No! Don’t touch her!” Ivy snapped, backing away. Enough was enough. “I told you to stop. I told you!” Grasping her baby carefully, she glowered at him through unshed tears of anger. “Get the fuck out of my house! Now!” she hissed.

Swallowing hard, Angelo edged forwards again, his eyes full of regret and focused on his daughter sobbing into her mother's shoulder. “Zaia-”

“I said get out!” Ivy shouted again, feeling for the first time in a long time, nothing but disgust towards her ex-boyfriend. “I’ve had enough of your childish bullshit, enough of you!” She hated cursing in front of her baby girl, but her father had pushed her to her absolute limit. “Leave and never come back. You’re not welcome here anymore.” He could perform his fatherly duties from across town. Today was the last day he was setting foot in this house. 

Stunned, his face contorted indignantly at her words. “You playin’, right? You seriously gonna do this? It was an accident! Zaia, come here. Come to Daddy,” He extended his hands towards his daughter, his features sagging in dismay when she burrowed deeper into Ivy’s bosom, refusing to look at her dad as her sniffles intensified. 

“She asked you to leave. Several times.” Roman towered over Angelo menacingly, his big body shielding Ivy and Zaia. “Don’t make her repeat it again.” 

Angelo tilted his chin defiantly. “And if I don’t?”

“Then you deal with me. I’ll be happy to whoop your ass again,” Roman said simply, silently daring the son of a bitch to make a wrong move. 

“Baby, you trippin’. That’s my daughter! This meathead nigga needs to know that he’s oversteppin’! You’re mine!”

“No I’m not!” Her reply was cold and exhausted. “We’ve been over for years, Angelo! Get that into your thick skull and get out of my life!”

Scoffing snidely, the man’s blood-stained sneer was a frightening visual as he walked backwards out the front door, talking his shit on his way to his car. “You’re not keepin’ me away from my child. You need me, Ivy. You’ll come crawling back,” he growled, then pointed angrily at Roman, “And whoever the fuck you think your bitch ass is, bet, I’mma see about you...”

Roman stood in the driveway, muscular arms crossed over his torn, blood-stained sweater, watching like a hawk as the piece of shit backed out onto the road and drove off. He looked down at Ivy to his left. “Are you oka-”

But she had already retreated into the safety of her house, slamming the door shut. Roman returned his attention to the Lexus driving down the street, silently vowing that today would be the last time Angelo would ever be seen again.

Thanks for reading and thanks again to this anon for the story idea. Your replies and reblogs would be much appreciated if you enjoyed!

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[harmshake]

Featuring: Roman Reigns x Ivy (Black Fem OC) Word Count: 3.8k Warnings: 18+, NSFW, language, angst, we're world-building here, folks, a nice, slow burn before shit gets diabolical...hope you enjoy!

Happy reading! Read more Roman fics by me or msbigredmachine, if you'd like! ✨

“Baby, hurry up and put Duchess in her kennel so we can go. You don’t wanna be late for school, right?” Ivy said softly over her shoulder to her daughter. That girl was doing everything but scooping up the little teacup terrier pup she gifted her for her 6th birthday a few months ago. Instead, she turned around to see Zaia kicking her little feet as she sat on the couch and tapped on her iPad, bopping her head to make her braided ponytails and blue bobos swing and clack against her The Little Mermaid—the Halle Bailey version, of course—headphones. 

Before that, she was bouncing around the living room with Duchess, both of them too hyper after breakfast, strawberry toaster strudels for Zaia, as it was the only thing she would want to eat some mornings, and beef kibbles for the pup. They were adorable and Ivy loved to see her kiddo and Duchess’s cute self excited for the day, but, Lord, it was seven a.m. and Ivy hadn’t even made her coffee yet trying to keep up with them.

She sighed but smiled to herself because of course her daughter hadn’t heard her, too busy blasting that Bluey theme song she was obsessed with lately. She wiped her hands on a kitchen cloth and placed it on the counter in front of her, finishing making herself and Zaia turkey sandwiches with chips and a side of baby carrots for lunch that she quickly packed in their lunchboxes before she strolled over to her daughter with a tap on her tiny shoulder. She whipped her big, brown eyes up at her then and yanked one side of her headphones off to nearly squeal, “Mama, you scared me!”

“Well, I’m sorry but it’s time to go, baby. Will you get Duchess into her kennel?” Ivy reminded her again and crossed her arms over her chest in her purple scrubs. Just then, the puppy scurried across the wooden floor with a black sock in her mouth, frantically trying to hop on Zaia’s lap to make her play with her and the sock that Ivy saw then belonged to Angelo who was still fast asleep upstairs. “Down, girl! And gimme this,” Ivy scowled at Duchess and gently wrestled the sock away from her surprisingly powerful gnaw, pointing to the kennel across the room near the fireplace for Zaia to leap up with a “yes ma’am” and take the dog with her. She watched her daughter fuss with the lock on the spacious cage that could fit Duchess’s doggy bed, puppy pad, water, and food bowls, and let out a small sigh of relief that all of their fuss didn’t wake up her child’s father who was absolutely not a morning person like the rest of the house.

“Can we play the Bluey song in the car?” Zaia asked beside her as they stood outside on the porch, Ivy locking the door and tossing her fingers through the loose but thick, dark afro curls on her head. She gave her baby a wry, teasing smile and made her giggle, because she knew just as well as Ivy that she’d heard just about enough damn Bluey to go out of her mind. 

Yet as they started to walk to Ivy’s Kia Carnival in the driveway, she found herself nodding her head to Zaia’s question, making her daughter squeal in delight again and prance ahead of her to the minivan. Ivy could have squealed herself because the autumn air was quite brisk today, the breeze seeping right through her wool cardigan. Zaia looked unphased in her blue puffer jacket as she climbed into the front seat—and she was equally unphased by the loud clunk that rang out next door as something heavy hit the pavement. 

The sound caught Ivy’s attention, though, her eyes shooting to her left as usually she and Zaia were the first ones active this early in the quiet, little suburban neighborhood. This part of Connecticut she noticed mainly housed retired white folks who slept in or appeared on their porches with their golf caddy bags in tow when the sun was a little higher in the cloudy sky. It was part of the reason why Ivy chose this area to settle down in three years ago: It was tranquil with no drama or noise. None from her neighbors and none from her child’s father…even though he eventually followed her here to “make amends” and see to it that they pretend to live together as a “happy family.”

While Angelo did have a key to her home for emergencies, he was not on the mortgage. However, it looked like someone next door must have just gotten his keys and became a homeowner as the loud clunk was from a couple of youngish looking movers doing their best not to drop the corner of a hefty and huge chestnut dresser again. It looked regal and expensive, too, yet Ivy noticed its owner kept a straight face as he stood off to the side on his freshly-cut lawn—she heard and saw the team of mowers and leaf-blowers yesterday afternoon—with one hand in the pocket of his brown slacks and the other around a mug of coffee as he held it to his mouth. 

“Uh, sorry, Mr. Reigns,” one of the movers hiccupped an apology as they scrambled past him and up the stairs of his wraparound porch to haul it inside. Mr. Reigns was tall enough that Ivy could see him towering over the white-picket fence between them. She could see the expression on his face was still placid even though the movers looked wary to have potentially scuffed his furniture. And he was tall enough that he could see Ivy being nosy as she slowly walked to her minivan, his face breaking with emotion then as a small, handsome smile pulled at his lips.

“Not a problem, boys. Just be a little more careful if you can.” Mr. Reigns sounded sophisticated and calm with a tip of his mug at them before he tipped his chin directly at Ivy. The smile was still on his lips as he slipped his hand from his pocket and through the air with a little wave at her. “Good mornin’, neighbor.”

“Oh! Morning.” Ivy waved back with her keys attached to her lavender, fuzzy ball keychain dangling in the air. Her eyes flitted to it and for some reason it made her feel as awkward as her voice seemed to sound out of nowhere, all pitchy and coy as the man’s smile grew bigger and as he walked closer to the fence. Ivy didn’t mean to make eye contact or strike up a conversation with him because she had to get Zaia to elementary school and herself to the hospital before both of them ran late…and before Angelo woke and ran up his temperature seeing Ivy conversing with another man.

But the way Mr. Reigns briefly ran his eyes along her curves that were well-defined in her clingy scrubs that had shrunk after so many washes, Ivy felt herself smiling back at him. He was quite the looker, too, with his long, dark hair that he swept off his strong, bearded jaw into a low bun that sat above broad shoulders in his cream-colored cashmere sweater. All of him was broad, Ivy noted now that he stood less than ten feet away, his body built with muscles like he was some kind of athlete. It made her wonder what he was doing here in a retirement neighborhood when he looked about her age, mid 30s, and clearly in shape to still be playing football or whatever it is he did.

However, she would not be finding out because she didn’t have the time to ask as Zaia peeked her head out of the car door to whine, “Mama, didn’t you say I was gonna be late for school? We have to go right now, right?” That made Mr. Reigns chuckle and Ivy blush as she nodded at her daughter, readjusting the straps of her purse and lunchbox on her shoulder. 

“I’m coming, baby,” Ivy chimed and shot the man to her left with a sympathetic look. “I’m Ivy, by the way. Your only neighbor with a kid. Nice to meet you, Mr. Reigns, is it?”

“Roman,” he said with another sip of his coffee and another smile that he first pointed to her and then to Zaia as he called to her. “Sorry for the hold up, little lady. Have a good day at school.”

Zaia mumbled her thanks with a bashful grin before she shut the door again and Ivy could see her iPad lighting up through the tinted windows with what had to be Bluey before she glanced at Roman again when he cooed with that handsome smile, “I hope you have a good day, too. Don’t work too hard.”

It was Ivy’s turn to chuckle as not working too hard wasn’t an option as an assistant head nurse and mom. She glimpsed past him to the movers who looked a little wobbly on their knees trying to carry a glass coffee table with a marble base from the vast moving truck parked along the curb. Not only did Roman sound sophisticated but he apparently had sophisticated taste in décor, too. “Thanks, but tell that to them. Hope they don’t have to work overtime if they drop that thing.”

Roman’s eyes followed her gaze before they flowed back to her, wrinkling at the sides as he grinned and stroked at his bearded chin. “Ah. I think those two are new on the job so I won’t hound on ’em. Besides, it’s too early on this beautiful day to be anything but blessed to be alive. But if you don’t mind, I gotta say…the day isn’t half as beautiful as you.” 

The bass in his voice was beautiful and made Ivy fit to blush, but the blood surging to her cheeks burned with nerves when she heard another muffled voice inside her home. It was Duchess yapping with tiny barks which meant Angelo had to be awake and in her sights as she strained to get his attention so he’d free her from her kennel. The last thing Ivy needed before starting her day was the bullshit he would stir if he caught her grinning and skinning from Roman’s compliment, so she swiftly thanked him and said goodbye so she could finally duck into her minivan where Zaia waited for to crank the engine and stereo for her song before she asked, “Who was that man, mama?”

“He’s our new neighbor. He was friendly, wasn’t he?” she replied and Zaia nodded as Ivy adjusted her rearview mirror to back out of her driveway. The morning sun was a hazy, orange glow that barely shone behind the clouds, but she could see Roman standing on his side of the fence where she left him as he watched her take off down the road, his friendly, warm smile never withering from his handsome face.

Three cups of coffee. That’s what it took to get Ivy through the work day. Two during the hectic hours of the morning that blurred together as Ivy tended to her paperwork leftover on her desk from last night, as well as ripping and running around the several floors of the south wing of the hospital to help her nurses pass meds and tend to patients because they were short-staffed; and one more cup with her lunch that technically could have been dinner because she didn’t get to sit down again and eat until well after four p.m. 

She was thankful that she checked off most of the items on her to-do list that Tuesday, and that at least she didn’t have to get pulled away to pick up Zaia. If Angelo was good for anything, and that wasn’t very many things, he was helpful when it came to their daughter. Ivy knew he loved their baby girl just as much as she did, hell, it was the reason he thought he could still force himself into her life as he knew she needed his help taking care of Zaia. And not financially, as Ivy was lucky her job paid the bills and kept food on the table. But parentally, as Zaia loved her dad and would notice if he went away. 

Lord knows Ivy tried to get them both away from him so she could raise her on her own and without the influence of her overbearing father…but that overbearing nature of his was reserved for Ivy exclusively—because to Zaia, he was perfect in every way. Ivy knew that was exactly his tactic: Be a good dad to keep them all together, no matter how many times she told his aggravating ass that they were not a couple anymore. It didn’t matter if they still slept together sometimes…sex to blow off steam would never solidify them.

It’s why she cursed under her breath when she saw his Lexus still on the curb when she backed into her driveway after getting home from work late that afternoon. He could have called her best friend, Gemini, to come over and babysit so he could take his behind back to his house across town. Ivy shook her head which was beginning to pound as she put her minivan in park and thought to grab her bags and cardigan from the passenger seat. She was in no hurry to go inside now since there was no telling what mood Angelo would be in. His temperamental ass liked to argue about the stupidest things, especially when she attempted to kick him out because it only gave him more time in her face and place.

She quietly closed the door of her vehicle, hoping he and Zaia were upstairs in her bedroom playing Mario Party on the Nintendo he bought her last month, or something loud enough that they didn’t hear her arrival. Ivy let out a deep breath as she leaned against the door and tilted her aching head back onto the window, wishing she had more energy to deal with him properly but, alas, the long work day had drained her of it. That was essentially the problem every day, another tactic Angelo used against her to keep her complacent. She was no dummy and no one’s fool, but she was tired and just wanted to keep the peace over sapping the rest of her energy on fighting with the only fool under her roof.

“Hey, Ivy? You alright?”

Roman’s deep voice startled her from her thoughts as her eyes popped open and spotted him lounging on his porch in one of his wooden outdoor chairs. The matching side table in between it and the other one balanced the same mug she saw him sipping from that morning, and she wondered where he worked and if he needed just as many cups of coffee to see the day through. 

Before Ivy could respond, he eased up from his chair and off his porch altogether to stand nearish to her across the picket fence like earlier today. His deep brown eyes had a soft glint to them even in the low light of the sun starting to go down, studying her with concern just as soft as he added with a teasing, little smile, “Thought I told you to have a good day…what happened?”

She knew he was trying to make her smile, too, as she wiped a hand over her face trying to hide how his efforts worked. “You said you hoped I had a good day. Not the same thing. But I’m alright. I just have a little headache.”

Her voice was hushed with that apprehension that it might travel into her house that her gaze floated to, and Roman seemed to notice as he murmured with a tip of his chin to where she hastily looked, “Everything okay in there?”

“Yeah. Yes. All good,” Ivy said almost immediately. She didn’t know this man to be talking to him about her problems, and no matter how friendly he was, she wasn’t sure she wanted to talk to him much longer when she heard the distinct sound of a door closing in her home. She waited a beat, waited for a safe silence to fall back into the air, before she quickly added, “Are you good? All moved in? I don’t see the truck there. That was pretty fast.”

Roman let his concerned eyes linger on her before he let his shoulders down in his black thermal shirt and nodded his head once. “Ah, yeah. The new boys worked out well. Got the furniture in and most of my boxes out of storage. I’m leavin’ a few in there, though…don’t have the time or the emotional energy to sort through those just yet.”

That deep voice of his lowered with a subtle quake at the latter half of his words, his eyes shooting down to his feet for a moment and making Ivy’s chest pull tight as she recognized that look. That feeling. Grief. She didn’t know what grief he was dealing with and, just like she thought for herself, he didn’t know her well enough to share so she decided not to ask about it. However, she did ask softly, “I understand…are you liking your new home, though? It was empty for about four months which is rare for this neighborhood. These old folks love to buy up some property around here.”

The sound of his chuckle was quiet yet rich, his gaze slowly meeting hers again with his handsome smile that made her chest flutter with her heartbeat this time. She hadn’t felt that kind of sensation since god knows when, the sensation intensifying when Roman said to her, “I like it a lot. I knew I picked a good place to call home before I stepped foot in it. Didn’t know my neighbor would be someone lovely like you, though.”

“That’s twice now you’ve complimented me and we just met…slow your roll,” Ivy uttered with a blush that he couldn’t see on her deep brown skin, but damn it if it didn’t make her blush harder the longer he gazed into her eyes before he shrugged with a cute grin.

“Oh, so it’s too soon to tell you nice things about yourself? Feel free to compliment me and catch up, then,” Roman replied, smirking, and she giggled. But that giggle turned into a small gasp when Ivy heard another door in her home, the front door as it swung open. And she didn’t have to turn around, nor did she have the time to, to know who it was barging around her minivan with the bullshit.

“When’d you get home, baby? And who is this?” It was almost like the shadows of the evening rolled in with Angelo who loomed over Ivy as she watched her sensored porch lights pop on to combat those pesty shadows. Yet nothing would get rid of this pest because he was stubborn and even slid his arm around her waist like it would prove he was right where he needed to be, and that it was Roman out of place as he glared at the man over the fence. 

“Name’s Roman. I’m Ivy’s neighbor. Who are you?” Roman spat back. The composed and sophisticated man from this morning seemed to slightly disappear as his narrowed eyes landed on Angelo’s fingers curled around Ivy’s hip before he looked dead in her eyes yet asked gently, “Is this the headache you mentioned?”

The concern that returned to his voice was gentle, too, but Ivy’s eyes still widened that he would say such a thing that implied anything to set Angelo off—which it absolutely did as he snatched his hand off her to shove it towards Roman as he asserted, “I’m her man, nigga. So, I’mma ask again…who the fuck do you think you are talkin’ to my woman?”

Roman let out a mocking laugh as he growled, “Boy, who the hell do you think you’re talkin’ to is the better question?”

“Ange, cut it out before Zaia hears you,” Ivy hissed at Angelo and yanked on his sweater sleeve as he took a couple of steps in front of her like he wanted to step to Roman who seemed to stand even taller than before. But it was too late as she heard Zaia shrieking with a laugh and Duchess barking as the two of them tumbled outside.

“Daddy left the door open! Duchess got out! C’mere, girl!” Their daughter almost tripped over her little Nike shoelaces that were slightly untied as she must have thrown them on in a hurry to catch Duchess who ran circles around her. Ivy exclaimed for her to be careful and tugged at Angelo’s sleeve again with a little more force since he and Roman didn’t move or break the staredown they were locked in, even when Zaia piped up behind them, “Daddy, help me! Daddy?”

“Don’t do somethin’ stupid in front of your daughter. You hear her callin’ you, don’t you?” Roman asserted with his arms folded on his wide chest, his words grating through his teeth before he seemed to relax as his eyes looked over to Zaia. It made Angelo snap out of it and look back at her, too, as she came running with Duchess in her hands.

“You have to hold her now ’cause she got out ’cause of you,” Zaia demanded in her sweet, little voice, making a reluctant grin touch Angelo’s face—and Ivy knew it was reluctant because she could see his nostrils still somewhat flared, straining not to say another word to Roman in her presence. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Angelo said as coolly as he could to their daughter instead, picking up the pup she shoved at him before she yanked at his clothes, too, the hem of his sweater, to drag him back inside the house. She tossed another demand up at him about ice cream and he did his best to toss a glare at Roman as he left, but not without muttering to Ivy, “Let’s go, ma.”

He wouldn’t pick up his feet much without Ivy following him, even as Zaia dug her heels into the grass to move him, and Ivy tried not to roll her eyes. Yet she did let them remain on Roman’s for less than a second as she walked away with her family, that little second feeling much longer as just like this morning, Roman’s eyes stayed fixed on her. Although his serious look suddenly softened when Angelo turned his back on him as a hint of his warm smile appeared for her. 

A warm smile that told Ivy should she get another headache, Roman was just next door and a knock away to soothe it.

. . .

The Boy Next Door: Chapter One

Thanks for reading and thanks again to this anon for the story idea. Your replies and reblogs would be much appreciated if you enjoyed!

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[overrboarrd]

sanctuary: prologue

firefighter!roman reigns x azure clarke [oc]

warnings: death/mentions of death, sibling loss, spousal loss. please read at your own discretion. this story is for audiences 18+ so minors please dni.

word count: 1.2k

a/n: finally getting the ball rolling on this one! I don't wanna say too much but this is just the prologue, first chapter will be posted this week. it's a bit heavy, but I hope y'all enjoy it!

•───────────•

August , 2024

•───────────•

Azure stood in front of the memorial stone, the rain mingling with her tears. It had been three years since that day. The folded flag from his funeral was still tucked away in her closet, along with the wedding ring she no longer wore but still kept. The life they built together had become nothing more than shadows, painful memories she carried like an anchor.

The third anniversary of his death—a life taken by violence while serving in the line of duty as a police officer, leaving Azure a widow far sooner than she ever imagined. She replayed the warm afternoon in her mind, the way time stopped when she opened the front door and saw Officer Ford and Officer Hayes, heart shattering when she learned her husband wasn’t coming home. It was her undoing, that moment. The moment her world collapsed.

Every day since, she had felt suspended between two worlds—the one she had before him, and the emptiness that followed his death.

After years of sleepless nights and well-meaning condolences, Azure couldn’t stay any longer. The memories of him haunted every corner of their old home, every familiar street in the city. She could no longer bear to walk down the paths they had once strolled together. Her grief had become suffocating.

The papers were signed, her resignation submitted to the hospital where she had worked for nearly five years. In the morning, she would pack up the last of her things and drive away from this chapter of her life.

Azure bent down to lay a small Polaroid from their wedding day on the grave, her hand lingering on the cold stone for just a moment longer. She whispered her goodbyes, feeling the weight of her decision settle on her heart.

“I’ll always love you,” she said, her shaky voice barely above a whisper. “But I have to go.”

As she turned to leave, the wind carried her words away, and with it, the first step toward something new.

•────────────────•

October, 2021

•────────────────•

The acrid scent of smoke filled the air, and Roman’s heartbeat echoed in his ears, faster than he could control. The fire raged, crackling louder than the sirens blaring around him. Flames licked at the sky, casting an eerie orange glow over the street.

Roman watched helplessly as the house crumbled, swallowed by the inferno. Fire hoses sprayed water in all directions, but it felt like nothing could quench the flames. In the chaos, one thing was painfully clear—Daniel was still inside.

He had already gone in once, like the hero he always was, emerging with a small bundle in his arms: a little girl, no more than two years old. Daniel’s face was soot-streaked, eyes wild with determination, but Roman saw the flicker of fear in his brother’s gaze. He had saved her, pulled her from the flames in time.

Roman had rushed toward Daniel when he stepped out, relief flooding his body. “You got her, man, you got her,” Roman had said, barely able to hear his own voice over the sirens.

But Daniel wasn’t looking at Roman—his eyes were fixated on the burning house, the flames licking dangerously at what was left of the roof. He handed the little girl off to a paramedic, but his body stayed taut, muscles coiled as if he were preparing for another run inside.

Roman grabbed his arm, pulling him back before he could reenter the house. “Daniel, wait! The roof—”

“There’s someone else inside, I don’t have time, Ro!” Daniel turned to face Roman. Roman could tell something was wrong, but before he could question it, Daniel jerked his arm free, his eyes fierce and mind made up.

“Daniel, no!” He disappeared into the blazing house. Roman’s stomach dropped. He wanted to follow, but the walls of the house groaned, threatening to collapse. The fire chief shouted something over the roar of the fire, but Roman didn’t hear it. All he could focus on was the growing, gnawing dread that his brother wouldn’t come back this time.

The minutes dragged on like hours, each second ticking by with Roman’s heart hammering in his chest. And then—

A deafening crash.

The roof caved in, sending embers flying into the night sky like a thousand stars falling to Earth. Roman felt the impact in his chest, the air punched from his lungs. Shouts erupted around him, but all he could see was the house, now reduced to a fiery skeleton.

He knew. Even before anyone said a word, he knew.

Daniel wasn’t coming out.

Roman’s knees buckled, but he caught himself, stumbling forward, only to be held back by a fellow firefighter. “Roman, no! It’s too late!”

The reality of it hit him like a sledgehammer. His brother—his best friend, his blood—was gone. There was no heroic rescue this time. There was nothing left to save.

And then, a cry pierced through the night.

Roman turned toward the sound, eyes falling on the little girl Daniel had rescued. She was sobbing, her face smudged with soot, her tiny body trembling from shock and fear. The paramedic, wide-eyed and silent, stood holding the child out toward him.

Roman looked down at her. She was so small, fragile, barely able to understand the magnitude of what had just happened. In her eyes, he saw nothing but confusion and fear. She reached out, clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in her world.

Roman held her close, cradling her as her sobs wracked her tiny body. He could feel the heat of the fire on his back, the devastation surrounding them, but in that moment, everything went silent.

He was left holding this little girl, the last life Daniel had saved.

She didn’t know what had happened. Didn’t know that the man who had pulled her from the flames was gone. But Roman knew. And as he held her in his arms, the weight of it hit him all at once. Roman stood there, his own tears mixing with the ash on his face, unable to process the magnitude of it all. He had just lost Daniel, but in his arms was the symbol of his brother’s final act of heroism.

“I’ve got you,” Roman whispered to the little girl, his voice cracking, though he wasn’t sure if he was saying it to her, to Daniel, or to himself. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

As the fire continued to rage behind him, Roman realized that he had been given more than just the responsibility of saving lives. He had been given this child, this tiny piece of his brother’s legacy. She had no one left now—and neither did he.

From that moment on, Roman knew.

He was her protector.

•────────────────•

Dear Brother, I hope this letter finds you well. I’ve been thinking about you a lot, and I miss you. It’s been a long journey, but I’ve finally settled in my new place. It’s quiet, not too far from the ocean. I never imagined I’d end up down here, but maybe that’s exactly what I needed—a fresh start, from everything. Things are… complicated right now. There’s so much I want to tell you, but I don’t know where to start. Just know that I’m okay. I’m figuring it out, one day at a time. I hope someday we can see each other again, in a different world maybe, where none of this matters. Know that no matter what, I will always love you.

[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 Lady of Ramlal Manor. Lady Jane, of the Blue Bakunawa. The best thing that had ever happened to anyone aboard the Black Jewel. 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! ❤️

[cinnamonglrls]

Art Of The Deal: Prologue.

description: WWE is on the cusp of securing a lucrative multimillion dollar liscencing agreement with Netflix, until the liaison responsible for closing the deal suddenly steps down. the replacement? a phantom from the past.

pairing: ex!bff!roman x oc.

a/n: this prologue is more so for context than anything. part one will be up immediately after this. enjoy and let me know your thoughts! 🎀

NEXT

[moonstarrr]

𝐓𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞

Chapter 2- Decisions

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Summary: After the drama unfolded Amina needed to get away from everything. Now residing with her best friend Bri, she now has the opportunity to come to terms with how she truly feels but, is she ready or willing to admit it.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT consent to my work being shared on any other website or platform. Likes,Re-blogs and comments are welcome <3. I also do not own any of the pictures used credits go to the rightful owners.

Pairings: OC! Black Women X Roman Reigns

Days quickly turned into weeks with Amina having no contact with Roman . She was trying to distract herself in any way possible. The more the days dragged on the more her sadness turned to anger and eventually exhaustion . Now staying at her best friends house she was able to find some peace and most importantly be away from Roman.The only things that remained on her mind was Roman and the argument they had.

The sound of rain hitting the large glass apartment windows filled the living room. Watching the cars drive bye on the street and thinking to herself about who could’ve been and what could still be. The sound of keys and a door knob being turned pulled her to look at the small hallway, and seeing Bri walk out with bags of groceries in her hands. Amina, was eternally grateful that Bri was allowing her to stay over and the time was much needed anyway .

“Aminaaaaa” Bri said with a laughter and happiness trailing her voice seeing her friend back to her regular state.

“Briiiiiii” Amina repeated back matching her friends tone, letting out a slight chuckle at the end.

Although the time was nice being at her friends place and being away from everything that was bringing her stress. Her thoughts somehow always drifted off to Roman. She would refuse to admit it to anyone else but to herself, oh she knew he was constantly on her mind and there was nothing she could do about it. Amina pulled up the grey blanket too her stomach and turned fully to now face her friend who was sitting right next to her.

“So I wanna know how you’re feeling. I didn’t want to ask you if was going to wait until you said something but curiosity is killing me girl” Bri said while placing her hand on Amina’s knee, searching her eyes to see if she can already tell what the answer is gonna be herself. Amina took a sigh and played with her earring.

“Well…honestly I’m just there” Amina said calmly. She didn’t know how to truly explain how she felt at that point in time. Well, she knew how she felt for sure but she was not willing to tell anyone. Before Bri could respond she looked at Amina, the girl she knew all too well with a confused look and sucked her teeth lightly.

“Amina I need you to be serious because I know deep down that you just being there is not how you feel” Bri said. Amina sat up straight and sighed. She should’ve known that the response she gave wouldn’t fly with Bri.

“Okay,okay I’m not okay I know that and so do you but I’m taking it one day at a time I have my good days and my days Bri” Amina said with a sense of confidence being that at that point that’s the only way she could describe what she’s feeling.

“Okay Amina fair enough but do you have any idea on what your gonna do” Bri asked that like a question.

“What do you mean what am I gonna do?” Amina asked inquisitively.

Bri tilted her head the the side and let out a dramatic sigh

“Girl with your man obviously”.

Amina wasn’t starting to like the way the conversation was starting to go . To try and get away from the tension she got up and walked to the fridge to try and grab herself something to drink and snack on. However Bri was right on her tail and not willing to let the whole conversation go. Bri took a seat on the tall black and beige stools while Amina put her glass of water and leftover sandwich on the kitchen counter while she leaned over to look at her friend.

“Bri I really don’t have a answer for you concerning that one because I haven’t been thinking of him” Amina felt so weird saying that straight up lie knowing that’s what she was doing 24/7.

“Do you really expect me to believe that Amina? You mean to tell me that all these weeks have went by and you haven’t thought about him once” Bri said with a chuckle finding it extremely hard to believe that it would ever be possible for Amina to do that.

Amina let out a groan and drank some of her water.

“Do we really have to talk about this Bri? Why don’t we talk about your day” Amina said urgently trying to change the subject but that was gonna be harder than she thought. Bri got up and pulled her friend, Amina away from her food and made her face her and kept her hands on her shoulders.

“Amina, listen to me love . I’m worried about you because you haven’t said much of anything and I just know you’re bottling up your emotions. So even if it’s just this one time I need you to be real with me and most importantly yourself” Bri said in a stern tone. The last thing Bri wanted was for Amina to be in denial . She probably wasn’t the one to try and give Amina closure but she wanted to at least try and help her work towards it and that starts with her acknowledging her feelings.

“Alright, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. It’s like no matter how hard I try he’s always in my thoughts. The truth of the matter is ….is that I still love him and I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to let that love go” After Amina said that she took a deep breath and drank the last bit of her water.

“Why do you think you can’t let go of that love babes?”

“Because I’ve known this man since we were in high school. That’s a long ass time. He’s one of the only men that I trust and truly loved. But at the same time I feel like an idiot because I gave up all these years of my life to be with him just for him to cheat on me” Amin stopped for a while replying all what she just said in her head.

“Look Amina I’m not one to get involved in other people’s business but at the end of the day you gotta do what you feel is right, I just can’t bear to see you so hurt again” Bri said with slight concern in her voice.

“I know Bri, but part of me is scared to even try to go down that second chance road…look I’ll just wait and see” Amina said with the thoughts becoming too much for her and evidently she just wanted to stop talking about it.

“Just know that I’m gonna always be here for you no matter what” Bri looked up at her friend reassuring her of who she is to her. Bri wrapped her arms around Amina and so did Amina. After a couple of seconds Amina let go and started to clean up. After washing up her dishes Amina headed back to the couch and opened her phone to her text messages but before she can text anything she made sure Bri wasn’t anywhere near because this was something she wanted to do in private herself.

Amina stared at her message log and found the name ‘My Fiancé 💍’ and stared at it for while.

“Should I really do this”

The question constantly repeating in her head.

She opened the message itself and started typing. She was constantly pressing the delete button trying to find the right words to say the right thing.

“We can talk now.”

She quickly pressed send and dropped her phone waiting to see if it’ll go off. And not even 2 minutes later the sound of a notification filled her ears and she picked up the phone and looked at the Notification Center in her phone and saw the words

My Fiancé 💍 :

“Where and when Amina?”

[echoofasiren]

Call of a siren

Roman reigns x Y/n (though y/n isnt used)

Warnings: it's sad (I'm sorry!😭), I might make a sequel or part 2 depending on how this does, smut is mentioned but not in full detail.

"Don't touch that, it's cursed!" warned a handsome fisherman to a young boy poking at an object in the market.

The object was a small, intricately carved wooden box, its lid inlaid with a mosaic of shells and glittering stones. The boy's curiosity was piqued, but fear held his hand back. The fisherman's words painted a picture of dark magic and hidden dangers that seemed to resonate with the air of mystery surrounding the box.

The mermaid was more intrigued by the older fisherman, his scruffy beard damp with the morning dew and his long hair cascading down his shoulders.

Days later, the mermaid watched the same man from the murky waters of a nearby pond. She had stumbled upon this secret haven, a small pool of fresh water nestled between the salty sea and the land where the sailor she had fallen for lived. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she observed the mans tentative steps towards the water's edge. He was different from the other humans she had seen from afar.

The sailor, whose name she had discovered was Roman, often passed by the pond on his way home from the bustling docks. His footsteps grew familiar to her, the jingle of his keys and the rhythmic slap of his work boots against the cobblestone path. Her heart fluttered like a school of fish every time he approached, and she would swim closer to the surface, hoping for a glimpse of his handsome face.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and painted the sky with fiery strokes of orange and pink, Roman sat beside the pond. He looked weary, his eyes distant and lost in thought. The mermaid, unable to resist, rose from the water, her tail shimmering in the twilight. He glanced up, and for a brief moment, their eyes met. Surprise flickered in his gaze, but instead of fear, she saw wonder.

Slowly, she approached, her tail swishing gently in the still water. Roman's hand hovered over the surface, and she reached out tentatively, her webbed fingers brushing against his rough skin. The connection was electric, a silent promise of a bond forged. She sang to him, a haunting melody that wrapped around his heart like the coils of a sea serpent. His eyes grew soft, and he leaned closer, lost in the enchantment of her voice.

The mermaid revealed herself fully, her hair a cascade of emerald waves that matched the algae beneath the pond's surface. Roman's hand trembled as he stroked her cheek, feeling the smoothness of her skin, the reality of her existence. The fisherman's warning echoed in his mind, but the love that blossomed between them was too strong to be deterred by fear of the unknown.

They met every night in secret, their whispers and laughter echoing through the night air. Roman brought her gifts from the sea: pearls, starfish, and coral that she had only seen in the depths of her ocean home. She, in turn, shared her world with him through her enchanting tales of underwater palaces and the mysteries of the deep. They grew closer, their bond deepening with each shared moonlit moment.

One night, as the stars twinkled like distant eyes watching over them, Roman gathered the courage to confess his love. He spoke of his longing to be with her always, to explore the world she knew so well. The mermaid's heart swelled with joy, and she knew she could no longer deny her own desires. But the fear of her father's wrath weighed heavy on her mind. He had forbidden her from seeing humans again, especially after he discovered her love for a sailor.

Her father, the powerful sea king, had sensed the growing bond between her and Roman. His rage was a tempest that could swallow ships whole. The mermaid knew that revealing her secret would not only endanger her but also Roman. Yet, the love that surged through her veins was too potent to be silenced.

One fateful evening, as they lay tangled in the embrace of the pond's lilies, Roman whispered, "I've found a way for us to be together forever." He pulled out the wooden box the fisherman had warned the boy about. The mermaid's eyes widened with horror as she recognized the forbidden object. "A potion," he said, his voice filled with hope. "It's said to grant the drinker legs to walk on land."

Her heart raced. The very idea of leaving her home for love was both thrilling and terrifying. But she knew the risks—the human world was fraught with peril for her kind. Yet, the thought of never seeing Roman again was unbearable. She took the box from his trembling hands, her eyes locked onto his, silently asking if he truly understood what he was offering.

The potion inside was a murky concoction that smelled faintly of brine and decay. It bubbled with a life of its own, hinting at the powerful magic it contained. The mermaid could feel its pull, a siren's call from a bottle, promising a future she had only dreamed of.

Her thoughts swirled like the waters around her, torn between her love for Roman and the duty she owed her father. But as she gazed into his eyes, she knew she could not resist. With trembling hands, she uncorked the bottle and took a sip.

The potion was bitter, like the tears of the sea, and it burned a path down her throat. Her body convulsed, and she felt a searing pain as her tail began to split and change. Her scales fell away, revealing human-like legs beneath. She screamed in agony, but Roman held her tight, whispering soothing words into her ear. The transformation was swift, and when the pain subsided, she looked down to see her new form reflected in the moonlit water.

The mermaid took her first unsteady steps on the bank, her legs feeling foreign and awkward. Roman watched her with a mix of awe and concern, his eyes never leaving hers. With his strong arms around her waist, they stumbled towards his nearby cottage, their hearts racing in sync with every step.

The cottage was a humble abode, filled with the scent of tobacco and the salty tang of the sea. The mermaid marveled at the sensation of the wooden floor beneath her bare feet, the tickle of the coarse woolen rug as Roman laid her upon it. The softness of his bed was a stark contrast to the rocky ocean floor she was accustomed to. She felt exposed and vulnerable in her new form, yet safe in his arms.

They lay there, panting, their eyes locked in a silent conversation of love and fear. The potion's effects were complete, and she was fully human, if only for a night. Roman's hand traced the line of her spine, sending shivers down her body. She had never felt such tender touches before, and she arched into him, craving more. Their kisses grew urgent, a declaration of the love that had been brewing between them for weeks.

The mermaid's skin was pale and soft, a stark contrast to her usual scaly form. Her legs, though new and unfamiliar, felt alive with every stroke of his hand. Roman whispered sweet nothings into her ear, promising her a life of adventure and happiness on land. The sound of his voice was a warm embrace, soothing the ache in her soul.

Their passion grew like the tide, rising and falling with the rhythm of the waves outside. As they explored each other's bodies, the mermaid felt a yearning she had never known. Every touch, every kiss, was a revelation, a promise of a future she had never dared to dream of. Roman was gentle, his hands sure and loving as they discovered the uncharted territories of her new human form.

The night passed in a whirlwind of sensation, the moon casting a soft glow over their entwined figures. As dawn approached, the mermaid felt a pang of dread. The potion's magic was temporary, and she knew she had to return to the sea before the sun rose. Roman held her tightly, his eyes filled with a fierce determination to find a way to make their love last.

They stumbled back to the pond, the first light of day just beginning to peek over the horizon. The mermaid's legs were growing weary, the transformation already starting to reverse. She felt the scales begin to form beneath her skin, the pain a stark reminder of the price she had paid for this night of passion. Roman kissed her, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

[sillyteecup]

So, I think I have a Roman Reigns AU in the work but...I'm not sure about it just yet, so I thought I'd post a little excerpt and get some of your thoughts. Also this is the first Roman Reigns fic I'm writing so I'm also a little shy about that...but anyway here it is:

Untitled fic idea:

Being the daughter of the leader of one of the most powerful nations in the world was...lonely for a lack of better words. A sentiment many would find surprising coming from Lori of all people. After all she had plenty of friends (on daddy's payroll) and was set to be married to Jey Uso, a literal prince and one of the most eligible men on the market. What more was there to be left to be desired? Roman Reigns. The tribal chief, they called him. The most powerful and feared man in the world and most importantly, Jey's cousin and handler. He's also the man Lori's been fucking since the beginning of this sham of an engagement but...semantics.

[damiansgoodgirll]

can you please make soft smut with roman where reader is a wrestler and she’s shy and quiet and sometimes she feels insecure about herself ❤️

roman reigns x reader

‼️soft roman, insecure reader, smut‼️

LOVIN’ YOU

the locker room was buzzing with energy, the usual pre-show chaos of crew members rushing around, last-minute promos being filmed and wrestlers getting into the right mindset.

you sat on the leather bench in front of your locker, lacing up your boots with precision, trying to block out the noise around you.

you were never one for the loud, chaotic nature of the wrestling world. it wasn’t that you didn’t love it - because you did, with everything in you - but you had always been different from the rest. where others thrived on the adrenaline, the banter and the aggressive energy, you preferred quiet moments, a soft presence in a world that was anything but.

and yet, somehow, roman reigns, the tribal chief, the man everyone feared, had found you.

you felt him before you saw him. a deep warmth settling over you, a magnetic pull you had long since stopped questioning. roman had a presence that demanded attention and even when he wasn’t trying, the air shifted when he was near.

“ready for tonight?” his voice was low, wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

you looked up, meeting his dark eyes. he was watching you with that intense gaze that always made your heart melt and warm. you nodded, offering a small smile “yeah, just… mentally preparing.”

a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he crouched down in front of you, resting his forearms on his knees “you always do that…” he murmured, tilting his head “get all quiet before a match. what goes on in that pretty head of yours?”

you felt your face heat up under his scrutiny. roman had this way of making you feel completely exposed, like he could see right through every wall you put up - like he knew you more than you knew yourself.

“just… making sure i don’t mess up i guess…” you admitted softly.

his expression softened instantly, and he reached out, brushing his knuckles along your jaw “you never mess up, baby” he said, his voice firm “you’re too damn good for that.”

your chest tightened at his words, at the sincerity in his tone. roman had always been your biggest supporter, always believing in you even when you struggled to believe in yourself.

before you could respond, a crew member called for him, letting him know his segment was up next. he sighed, standing to his full height, towering over you as he always did.

“i’ll see you after?” he asked, though it wasn’t really a question.

you nodded, and before he walked away, he leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. it was such a small gesture, but it left your skin tingling, warmth blooming in your chest.

roman reigns was not a gentle man to the world. but with you? he was something else entirely.

later that night, after the show had ended and the exhaustion had settled into your bones, you found yourself in roman’s hotel room. it was always like this after big matches - just the two of you, away from the chaos, seeking comfort in each other.

you sat on the edge of the bed, playing with the hem of your oversized hoodie, while roman stood near the window, his back to you as he scrolled through his phone.

he must have sensed your nerves because he glanced over his shoulder, his brow furrowing slightly “what’s wrong?”

you hesitated, biting your lip “nothing.”

he turned fully at that, setting his phone down on the table before walking toward you “don’t lie to me, sweetheart” he murmured, standing between your legs, his hands finding your waist “talk to me.”

you sighed, leaning into his touch “i just… sometimes i wonder if i fit in this world…”

his grip on you tightened slightly, his expression darkening - he definitely felt wasn’t expecting that “don’t do that” he said firmly “don’t doubt yourself.”

you swallowed hard, looking up at him “but i’m not like the others, roman. i’m not loud, or aggressive, or…”

“you’re you” he cut in, his tone leaving no room for argument “and that’s exactly why i want you. why i love you.”

your breath hitched, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

he exhaled sharply, his forehead dropping to rest against yours “you have no idea how crazy you make me…” he murmured. “the way you are, so sweet, so fucking good, it drives me insane.”

his lips found yours then, slow and deep, stealing the breath from your lungs. he kissed you like he had all the time in the world, like he wanted to savor every second.

you melted into him, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

roman guided you onto the bed with a quiet groan, his body pressing against yours, warm and solid.

“you sure?” he asked, his voice rough, his lips trailing along your jaw.

you nodded, arching into him “yes.”

his hands moved with deliberate care, peeling away your clothes, his touch reverent. his hands slid beneath your hoodie, pushing the fabric up slowly, exposing inch after inch of skin. he traced his fingers over your stomach, your ribs, his touch light but deliberate. you gasped when his thumbs brushed the underside of your breasts, your back arching instinctively. he pulled your hoodie over your head, tossing it aside before his lips found your collarbone, kissing and nipping his way lower. he unclasped your bra with practiced ease, groaning softly as he took in the sight of you.

“perfect…” he muttered, his hands cupping you, his thumbs circling your nipples before his mouth replaced his fingers.

he kissed every inch of exposed skin, worshiping you like you were something sacred.

you gasped when his lips trailed lower, when he settled between your thighs, his dark eyes locked onto yours. he sat back for a moment, dark eyes raking over your now bare form, his expression shifting into something possessive, something primal. “roman…”you breathed, your fingers tightening in his hair.

he hummed in response, his mouth finally finding where you needed him most. the first swipe of his tongue had you gasping, your hips jerking, but roman held you still, his grip firm.

he took his time, unraveling you piece by piece, pushing you to the edge and pulling you back until you were begging for him.

he worked you open with his tongue, his fingers joining in, stretching you, preparing you. you were trembling beneath him, your body taut with pleasure, every nerve ending alive and burning “let go baby…” - and you did.

roman didn’t stop. he licked and kissed you through it, drawing out every aftershock, until you were trembling, overstimulated and breathless.

only then did he move back up, capturing your lips in a slow, deep kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“ready for me, baby?” he asked, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours.

you nodded, still hazy, still floating.

when he finally pressed inside you, it was slow, deep, his forehead pressed against yours, his breaths mingling with yours.

“mine…” he murmured, his fingers lacing with yours “always.”

“oh fuck…” - you were sensitive. you clung to him, moaning into his ear, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer.

the slow build of pleasure started again, coiling deep in your stomach, and roman felt it.

“come for me again…” he murmured, his hand slipping between you, his fingers finding that sensitive spot.

your body obeyed, pleasure slamming into you, your walls tightening around him as you fell apart for the second time.

roman cursed, his movements stuttering as he followed right after, burying himself deep inside you with a guttural groan.

and as he moved, as he loved you with every part of himself, you knew, without a doubt, you belonged to him just as much as he belonged to you.

“i love you…”he whispered, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

you smiled, your eyes heavy with exhaustion and contentment “i love you too.”

roman sighed, wrapping you in his arms, holding you against him like he never wanted to let go.

and in that moment, you knew, he never would.

———————————

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

[msbigredmachine]

The Boy Next Door: Chapter Five

MASTERLIST ✨ harmshake’s masterlist ✨ msbigredmachine’s masterlist

Word Count: 8.9k

TRIGGER WARNINGS: 18+, NSFW, language, angst, violence, smut

Poster made by me. Credit to the owners of the other pics and gifs.

A/N: So, as you all know, harmshake is on an extended hiatus from tumblr. This means I'll be handling the story henceforth. We were both able to draft and flesh out the chapters and storyline together, giving me an easier job of putting the finishing touches on each one and uploading them. I hope you've all enjoyed it, we both had a blast doing this together and hope you continue to support us and TBND!

Enjoy chapter 5! 😬

The glow of Ivy’s bedside lamp bathed golden light on her chocolate skin as she reclined against the pillows of her window seat, glass of port wine in hand, pepperoni pizza on a paper plate, her full lips curved into a teasing smile. 

Across the street, in her direct line of sight, Roman lounged in a leather seat by his open window, a small plate of buffalo wings within arm’s reach on the sill. The soft yellow light from his room reflected off his sharp features, highlighting the intensity in his gaze that made her pulse quicken as they watched each other from a pleasantly short distance.

“Dude, you’re lucky I like you,” she said, biting into her pizza. “I don’t usually share my date nights with someone who isn’t even in the same room with me.”

Roman’s deep laugh rumbled through the phone. “Oh, baby girl, you don’t just like me—you adore me. Own that shit.”

She rolled her eyes, her grin widening. “You’re awfully sure of yourself.”

“And you love that about me,” he countered smoothly, swirling his whiskey. 

She paused at his words, her heart skipping a beat. Love? It wasn’t the first time Roman’s confidence caught her off guard, but this? This was different. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear, the weight of the word lingering in the air between them.

“How’s Zaia doing?” he asked, as if sensing her thoughts, smartly steering the conversation away, but not before leaving Ivy with the faintest flutter of something unspoken.

“She’s doing better—just a cold, nothing too serious. She’s in her room sleeping, but she was miserable all day, poor thing. We’ve been stuck at home together today, but I don’t mind. She’s my baby. That’s what mamas do,” she said.

Roman’s voice softened, full of admiration. “I know you do your best with her. I see it every day. You’re an incredible mom, Ivy.”

She felt a flutter in her chest, his words hitting her deeper than she expected. There was something about the way he just…cared, even from afar. She took a sip of wine, savoring the smooth taste. “That's so sweet. Thank you, baby,” she answered with a warm mix of emotion and affection. “You seem to be making this whole long-distance date night thing work.”

Roman’s gaze never wavered from hers as he leaned back in his seat, his posture casual yet commanding. “I make it work because it means I get to see you. I’d do anything to make you happy.”

She felt the sincerity in his words, the weight of the connection between them growing stronger by the second. “And I’m lucky to have you around. I like being around you,” she said softly, her eyes locked on his.

A small, teasing smile played at the corner of Roman’s lips. “And I like you in my t-shirts. A lot,” he added, “You look better in them than I ever could.”

Her fingers instinctively brushed the oversized t-shirt she’d claimed during one of their late-night trysts. She leaned closer to the open window, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Glad you feel that way, cuz it’s mine now. You ain’t never gettin’ it back.”

His gaze darkened, and even through the phone, she could hear the change in his tone, low and suggestive. “You can keep it…as long as you tell me what you're wearin' under it.”

Her stomach tightened at the suggestive question, heat pooling low in her belly. She took a slow sip of her wine, her voice laced with playful mischief. 

“Nothing," she responded airily.

The silence that followed was charged, Roman’s sharp intake of breath echoing through the line. Eyes darkened, he leaned forwards, as though trying to close the distance between them. “Prove it,” he rasped, that baritone of his smooth, dangerous, and inviting all at once.

Ivy took a slow breath, the challenge of his words igniting something bold in her. With a sly smile, her fingers slid beneath the hem of the t-shirt, pulling it off completely. Her smooth, naked skin shone even brighter beneath the lights. 

Roman’s sharp exhale sent a thrill through her. “God, you’re exquisite,” he murmured, his voice thick with reverence and hunger. “So fucking beautiful, baby girl.”

His words made her heart race. She knew he was more than just attracted to her—he was captivated. And she was just as entranced by him.

“I wanna see more. Touch yourself for me, Ivy,” he commanded.

Her breath hitched, her pulse racing as he unraveled her carefully maintained composure. “Only if you do the same,” she challenged, her voice trembling with anticipation.

The faint rustle of fabric on his end sent a shiver down her spine. “I already am,” he confessed, his words molten heat. 

Sure enough, his dick was out of his shorts, legs spread far apart, his fist moving up and down the hardened length as he reclined in his chair. "Like what you see, baby?" he asked, his body heating up when she licked her lips. 

"Oh yeah. That's it, big boy. Stroke it for me," she encouraged him, her voice rough with need. “Fuck…I want that big beautiful dick in my mouth, baby," she murmured.

“Just your mouth?” Roman challenged, “Your turn. Show Daddy how wet you are."

Putting her phone on speaker and setting it in front of her, she spread her legs, giving him a full view of her goodies. She pushed her two middle fingers between her folds, gasping from the shock of the intrusion. "Unnnh, fuck," she thrust the fingers in and out of her, imagining it was Roman’s long, thick dick testing the stretch of her walls, and pulled them out, moaning as they came away glistening with her arousal.

“Jesus, Ivy, you’re drippin’…Put that shit in your mouth, baby.”

Completely turned on, she did as he ordered, hearing his groan over the phone as she slowly sucked her taste off her fingers before slipping them back inside her pussy, working them faster. Through the cloudy haze of pleasure, she caught the sweet sight of Roman’s large hand twisting faster around his large length, his lips parted, panting, the depths of his desire flooding her ears and flooding her pussy even more. 

"Shit, that's beautiful, baby girl. Keep fucking your pussy like that..." He watched her head tilt back, groaning along with her as he stroked himself with the same speed as her pumping fingers. The intimacy of the moment swallowed them whole, the distance between their windows evaporating as their breaths quickened in unison. 

Ivy let herself go, surrendering to the way he made her feel—desirable, fearless, alive. For once, she didn’t question the intensity of their connection or the way he effortlessly stripped her bare, emotionally and physically. She only knew she wanted more of this man, Roman Reigns. Probably forever.

Consequences be damned.

Gemini sat at her desk, the weight of the situation pressing down on her. She had never expected to be the one to deliver this news to Ivy. When Kofi—Angelo’s cousin—contacted her, she hesitated. She and Ivy hadn’t spoken in weeks and the idea of revisiting the painful subject of her friend’s baby daddy made her stomach churn. Yet here she was, sitting behind the polished wooden desk in her office, holding a letter from Kofi and a copy of the will that had been left behind after Angelo’s sudden death.

The door creaked open, and Ivy entered, her face drawn with exhaustion, still in her scrubs from her shift at the hospital. The tension in the air was thick, but Ivy’s eyes softened when they met Gemini’s, though she masked it quickly with a sharp, questioning look.

“You said it was urgent,” Ivy said, her voice guarded, her arms folded tightly across her chest.

Gemini gestured to the chair across from her. “Please sit.”

Ivy hesitated but lowered herself into the chair, her eyes flicking from Gemini to the papers on the desk. She looked like she was preparing for bad news, and Gemini couldn’t blame her. The last time they’d spoken, their argument had been raw and emotional, and the distance between them had only grown since.

“Angelo’s cousin Kofi…reached out to me,” Gemini began, her voice steady despite the knots in her stomach. “He wanted me to be the one to handle his affairs. Babe, Angelo had a will—and he left a few things behind. Things for you and Zaia.”

Ivy’s eyebrows furrowed as she leaned forward, curiosity mixed with wariness. “A will? I—” She shook her head, the disbelief evident in her expression. “I didn’t know he had anything left. After everything, I didn’t think he’d care.”

Gemini exhaled, her eyes dropping to the document in front of her. “I didn’t think so either. But there’s more here than I expected. It’s all in the will.”

She slid the papers across the desk. “He bought a house, Ivy. A house for you and Zaia. It’s fully paid for. There’s also a trust fund set up for Zaia—enough to cover her education, and a bit more for whatever else she’ll need. And a piece of local business—his cousin Kofi’s company, actually. It’s a stake in something stable. You’ll have a steady income from it.”

Ivy blinked, her lips parting slightly as she processed the information. “A house? He...he bought us a house?” Her voice cracked slightly as if the weight of the words was more than she could bear.

Gemini nodded, watching Ivy carefully. “He left you a ring too—something personal. Family heirloom, the documents say.”

Ivy’s eyes welled with unshed tears, but she refused to let them fall. She wasn’t going to cry in front of Gemini—not after everything. “I didn’t know…” Her voice trailed off, filled with confusion and a hint of anger. “Why didn’t he ever say anything? He never told me any of this!”

Gemini leaned back in her chair, her gaze hardening despite her sympathy. “I’m not sure why he didn’t tell you. Maybe he thought you’d be upset or maybe he just didn’t know how to say it. We both know he wasn’t the best at things like that.”

Ivy’s jaw tightened as she set the will back down on the desk, looking at Gemini with a mixture of frustration and sadness. “Yeah, that sounds like him,” she muttered, turning away to look out the window. “I never understood why he couldn’t just…Why everything had to be so damn complicated.”

Gemini swallowed, at a loss for words. A rarity. Ivy shook her head, the pain clear in her expression. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel about any of this.”

“I get it, babe. I really do. He was a pain, and I’m not going to pretend otherwise. But—” She caught herself just as she saw Ivy’s expression harden again, closing herself off.

“I don’t need you to tell me what to feel, Gem. You’ve done enough of that already,” she said, her tone more brittle than before. 

Gemini sighed, leaning forward, her own frustration bubbling to the surface. “Ivy—”

“I gotta go,” said Ivy. “Thanks for informing me. I’ll figure it out.”

Before Gemini could say anything more, Ivy had already stepped out, the door clicking shut behind her. She sat in stunned silence, staring at the empty room. She had wanted to say more, to reach her somehow, but the words felt trapped in her chest. The rift between them continued to germinate, and it seemed no matter how hard she tried,  Ivy was slipping further away.

Gemini leaned back in her chair, exhaling heavily in frustration, her fingers tapping rapidly on the desk. The silence in the room felt heavy with the unshakable tension between her and Ivy, the walls they had both built too high to break down easily.

Needing to clear her head, she decided to leave for her lunch break, grabbing her coat and turning off the lights. The moment she stepped outside the building, the air was cold, the late November weather biting at her skin. She wrapped her coat tighter around herself and began walking to her car, but a strange feeling tugged at her—a sense of being watched. She glanced over her shoulder quickly, but there was no one there.

The street was empty, save for a few passing cars.

Shrugging it off as paranoia, Gemini continued walking, but the feeling persisted. Every step she took felt heavier, more deliberate, as though something—or someone—was just behind her. She stopped at the intersection, glancing behind her again.

Nothing.

She shook her head and continued walking, but her unease only grew stronger, a cold shiver crawling down her spine. When she reached her Mercedes, she fumbled for her keys, quickly unlocking the door and sliding inside. The sense of being followed still gripped her chest, but when she checked the rearview mirror, there was no one there.

She exhaled sharply, gripping the wheel as she stared out the windshield. “I’m losing my shit. Just great,” she muttered to herself, starting the engine. 

But as she drove off into the night, the nagging feeling that she wasn’t alone never quite left her.

Roman leaned back in his leather armrest, the soft expensive material creaking under his weight, his eyes fixated on the darkened windows of Ivy’s house. The house he had once watched from the shadows, studying her every move. A fond, fruitful memory.

He remembered the first night he’d arrived in the neighborhood—the house still empty, the moving truck yet to arrive. The thrill of anonymity had been intoxicating. It had all felt too easy, too perfect, like a symphony waiting to be orchestrated. His house, still almost empty that first week, had been the perfect backdrop to his plans.

He first sighted her in her backyard with little Zaia, the girl running around with their dog, Duchess, all carefree in the evening sun. There was something about the way she doted on her daughter, something warm, almost maternal, that captivated him. And he knew from the start, from the very first moment he saw her, that he would make her his.

But it wasn’t just the motherly affection that drew him in. No, it was the way she carried herself, the subtle grace she exuded. She was beautiful. Perfect face and banging body, with curves her wrap dress woefully failed to hide. He could tell there was a strength beneath her calm exterior, a depth that no one could see unless they truly watched. And he had watched her. Night after night.

At first, it had been about learning her routine—how she left for work, when she came home, the time she spent with Zaia, and the occasional moments when she was home with Angelo. Those nights, when he’d stalk the house like a predator in the shadows, the soft flicker of her bedroom light barely visible. The arguments. The passionate reconciliations. The first time he watched them fuck, a jealousy unlike anything he’d ever felt had ripped through him. Animalistic, raw. It had enraged him, the way Angelo’s touch seemed to have ownership over Ivy, the way she would give herself to him.

Roman gripped the glass harder, his dick rising at the more pleasant memory of watching Ivy, all alone this time, sprawled across her bed as she pleased herself, her body writhing on her soft sheets. It was the night after they first met, and he’d wondered if it was him she was masturbating to. He’d imagined claiming her fully, not just with his eyes, but with his hands, his mouth, his dick, buried in her wet. That jealousy, that hunger for her, had grown, and when Angelo put hands on him, he took action. He was an easy target, as were the brake lines of that jalopy he drove…Roman had made sure there was no coming back from that. That punk bitch was gone, and Roman seized the moment and stepped in, comforting Ivy as she grieved, his presence a soothing balm to her wounds.

Now, she was all his. The fire they shared, the passion—it was everything. Roman had never known anything like it. Each time he lay beside her, the warmth of her body pressed against his…each time he was inside her…he felt…whole. He had won. He had her, and together, they would be the perfect family, the one he’d always dreamed of. Him, Ivy, and Zaia.

But there was yet another fucking thing that threatened to ruin it all: Gemini.

His blood boiled at the thought of her. Poking around, asking questions, getting too close to the truth. Her scathing words had echoed relentlessly in his head since the night of her party, each syllable sharper and more grating than the last:

“I see right through you. You’re not who you pretend you are. I can feel it. You’ve got Ivy and everybody else fooled, but I’m not buying it.”

The nerve of that bitch.

Roman’s jaw clenched as he replayed her smug expression, the way she had stood close, practically taunting him. She hadn’t flinched, hadn’t look away, like she knew she was poking a bear and relished the risk. Gemini wasn’t like the others—she was too observant, too bold. That made her dangerous. Too dangerous to keep around. She didn’t know who she was dealing with. Roman had dealt with people like her before, but this one was persistent. Too persistent.

His mind flashed to the moments when he’d seen her lingering near Ivy, always so observant. So fucking nosy. Well, no more.

She had to go. 

Roman leaned forward in his chair, his eyes narrowing. His plan was already in motion. It would be simple, like all the others. He would make her disappear too, and no one would find her.

He glanced over at the clock, the quiet ticking of time mocking him. Soon. As soon as he dealt with Gemini, everything would be perfect.

Roman’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. He had Ivy and Zaia now, and nothing and nobody would take that from him. Ever.

He stood, his fingers tapping against the window frame as he stared out into the darkness, knowing that soon, very soon, his family would be complete.

And that meddlesome bitch?

She was just another loose end. One he would tie up.

Probably literally.

The morning light filtered through the wide windows of his pristine kitchen island, glinting off his untouched cup of espresso. His focus, however, was entirely on the MacBook before him. Leaning forward, his eyes narrowed like a predator studying its quarry, watching the grainy surveillance footage play out on the laptop screen. 

Gemini moved about her bedroom, oblivious to the camera’s hidden gaze. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he traced her movements, his fingers idly tapping the screen. She thought she was the hunter, investigating him—but Roman always stayed one step ahead. 

Night after night, he would watch her scour through case files, searching through news reports, and any scrap of information to uncover his identity. Her determination was unlike anything he had encountered before, and it unnerved him in a way few things ever had. He needed to act before she finally found something and took it to Ivy—or worse, someone else. Like that lame ass five-0 she was fucking, Hayes. 

He had to hand it to her. Though he had perfected this dance over the years, she was different. Her confidence infuriated him, and some part of him wanted her to know, in her final moments, that she’d been right about him all along.

The smart TV on the kitchen wall murmured in the background, showing a clip of Montez, the distraught fiancé of Bianca Belair who was still missing, pleading for her safe return. Duchess was fast asleep in the conversation pit a few feet away. But it was the lazy clink of cutlery that had his attention. His gaze flicked to his girlfriend, who sat quietly across from him, her fork absently tracing circles through the barely eaten scrambled eggs on her plate. She had been distant for days, her mind clearly elsewhere. Something was weighing heavily on her.

“You’ve been quiet,” Roman said softly, his voice low, filled with a tenderness that Ivy had come to trust. “What’s going on, babe?”

Ivy hesitated, her stomach knotting the way it had for the last few days, since she’d learned of Angelo’s surprising bequest. The weight of it was heavy on her chest and she had kept it to herself until now, unsure of how to even begin processing everything. Roman had been a constant presence since Angelo’s death—strong, supportive, and patient—but this was something that still made her feel vulnerable. 

Roman shut his laptop and motioned her over. “Come here.”

She made her way over to him, allowing him to pull her onto his lap, his forearms winding protectively around her. His lips pressed against her shoulder. “Talk to me,” he whispered.

Ivy sighed heavily and bit the bullet. She’d been carrying this burden alone long enough. “Angelo…he wrote a will,” she began, her voice faltering as she struggled to find the right words. “He…he left things. A house, a trust fund for Zaia, some business stake—things I never thought he’d care enough to leave behind.”

Roman raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt, watching her closely. He knew that whatever Angelo had left wasn’t just about the material things. He could tell that it was something deeper—something Ivy was still trying to understand herself.

“I know what this is about,” he said quietly. “I know it’s not just about what he left. It’s about him—about everything he kept trying to do. Trying to come back into your life even when you told him no.”

Ivy let out a long, quiet breath, her gaze dropping to the counter. “He couldn’t just let it go, Ro. He couldn’t accept that we were done. That we been done for a long time.” Her voice faltered, but she quickly steadied herself. “He kept trying, always trying to force himself back in. And now…now, he’s gone, and he’s left me this…this mess.”

Roman’s gaze never left hers. “I know he wasn’t easy on you, and I know he made things complicated, even when you were doing your best to move forward.” He gently reached out, placing a hand on hers. “But I also know you loved him, at least in your own way. He was Zaia’s father. And now, with all this…stuff he left behind, I can’t imagine how hard it is for you to figure out how to feel about it.”

Ivy’s face was full of vulnerability. “He was a good father to his baby. He really was. I can’t take that away from him. But he kept trying to get back into my life. He was always coming around, always expecting me to give him another chance. And now—after he’s gone—I’m left with all this guilt. I don’t know if I’m supposed to be grateful or angry.”

Roman’s hand tightened around her waist, a reassuring squeeze. “You’re allowed to feel both, Ivy. You can be grateful for the good he did for Zaia, for the father he was, while also being pissed at the way he treated you. You don’t have to choose.”

Ivy swallowed hard, nodding as the weight of his words settled into her chest. “I just…I don’t understand why he didn’t do this sooner. If he really wanted to fix things, if he really wanted to show he cared, why didn’t he do it when I needed him to?” Her voice was a whisper now, as if the thought itself was too much to bear. “Why did he make everything harder for me?”

“Maybe he didn’t know how,” Roman mused. “A lot of people—especially people like Angelo—they don’t know how to express what they really feel until it’s too late. Maybe he didn’t realize it until the end. Maybe he didn’t know how to fix what was broken between you two.”

Ivy shook her head, wiping away a stray tear that had escaped. “But that’s just it, Roman. He never listened. He never saw me. He always just assumed what I wanted, what I needed. And now—now he’s gone. And I’m stuck with all this…uncertainty. I’m stuck with a little girl who won’t understand any of it. And I can’t even process any of this because of the way he kept pulling me back in.”

She had fought so hard to let go of the past, to move on from the chaos Angelo had brought into her life. It wasn’t fair that after all that struggle, this new development was now forcing her to confront everything she had tried to forget. She was trying to build a new future for herself, for Zaia…and possibly Roman…but this…this was a lot to carry.

“Hey,” Roman said gently, squeezing her hand, “Baby, I know you’re angry, and I know you’re hurt. But you’re not alone in this. You’ve got me. You don’t gotta carry all this by yourself. We’ll figure it out together, one step at a time.”

Ivy let out a long breath, her chest rising and falling. She felt exhausted, like the weight of everything had finally caught up with her. But hearing Roman’s words, feeling the warmth of his hand on hers, she knew she wasn’t alone anymore. Maybe she couldn’t control everything—maybe she couldn’t change what Angelo had done—but she could still move forward. She had a choice. And she had Roman.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly as she leaned into him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Roman smiled softly, caressing her face. “You’ll never have to find out. I’m here, Ivy. I’m here, no matter what.”

Ivy met his gaze, the conflict in her heart still there, but the steady, grounding presence of Roman gave her something she hadn’t had in a long time: a sense of peace. She didn’t have to have all the answers. Not yet. But with him by her side, perhaps she could start to heal.

Roman’s hands gripped the steering wheel, a million thoughts plaguing his mind as he navigated his Range Rover down the suburban streets enroute to Zaia’s elementary school. The sunlight streamed through the windshield, bouncing off his dark Ray-ban Aviators and giving his already cold demeanor an eerie, impersonal sheen. Ivy sat beside him, chattering away, little Zaia in the backseat singing along to the music, some song from Gracie’s Corner, blaring from her iPad. Roman had tuned them both out completely, their cheerful voices nothing but background noise to the storm that had been raging in his mind since Ivy dropped that bombshell on him.

Damn you, Angelo!

He was seething. That fucking bastard’s will felt like a final act of sabotage, the ghost of the past reaching out from beyond the grave to pull Ivy back into a world of chaos he’d worked so hard to shield her from. 

But he wasn’t just angry at Angelo. No. 

He was furious with Gemini for delivering the news. For helping tear open old wounds Ivy had spent years trying to heal from, all in the name of business. A burning rage surged through him. Like Angelo, Gemini had become another anchor Ivy couldn’t free herself from. Another reason for Roman to despise that bitch.

A sudden burst of repetitive, high-pitched music jolted him from his thoughts. Zaia had restarted the same insipid song she’d been playing since they got in the car, the tinny melody grating against his nerves like nails on a chalkboard. Roman’s fingers tightened on the wheel, a muscle twitching in his jaw. The sound seemed to fill every inch of the vehicle, piercing through the thin layer of control he’d been holding onto.

Zaia continued to sing her little heart out as the cheerful tune played on. It was relentless, drilling into Roman’s skull. He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to keep his composure. He glanced in the rearview mirror, catching her innocent, happy expression, one he usually appreciated but now he just couldn’t stand the sight of.

“Little lady,” he began, his voice carefully even, though the tension brewing in him laced every syllable, “you don’t got any other songs?”

Zaia beamed at him. “But it’s my favorite! Don’t you like it?”

He hated it. The tune quickly became a nightmarish loop, and for the first time in hours, his thoughts of Gemini faded—not from guilt or doubt, but from sheer, unrelenting irritation. The song pounded on, and Roman’s fingers tightened on the wheel, his knuckles stretching unnaturally against the black leather.

On the third replay, he snapped.

“Man, turn that shit off!” His voice was a whip, sudden, loud, and vicious.

The car fell into a stunned silence. Zaia’s lip quivered, her breathing pattern changing, quickening, before she burst into tears. 

“Roman!” Ivy exclaimed.

“What I do? I just told her to change the song!”

“I want my daddy!” Zaia wailed.

“That’s too damn bad,” Roman shot back coldly, his deep voice dripping venom as he twisted his head to glare at her. “You ain’t never gon’ see that piece of shit no more cuz he’s dead!”

Ivy’s heart stopped. She turned in her seat, gaping at him in complete shock. “Roman! What the hell is your problem?”

Chastened, he opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off, absolutely livid. “Stop the car. Now.”

“Ivy, I—”

“Stop the damn car!”

Roman exhaled heavily, muttering under his breath as he pulled the SUV to the side of the road. Ivy didn’t wait for the car to come to a full stop before she threw the door open. Her legs were shaky, but her fury propelled her forward. She yanked open the back door, gathered Zaia and her backpack, and marched down the street toward the school building. At the entrance, she set Zaia back down on her feet, but the little girl refused to let go of her, clinging to her neck like a lifeline.

The sight of her daughter’s distress pierced something deep within her soul. Kneeling down, she held her tightly, letting her hold on to her for as long as she needed, even as the school’s morning bell rang around the building, signaling the start of the day.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Ivy murmured softly, her voice laced with guilt. She rubbed Zaia’s back in slow, soothing circles. “Please don’t cry, my snuggle bug.”

Zaia hiccupped through her sobs, her voice trembling and barely audible. “I don’t want Roman to be mad at me, Mama.”

The innocent remark hit Ivy like a punch to the chest, momentarily stealing her breath. It dawned on her that her little girl had grown attached to the big man. She struggled to find the right words to reassure her. “He’s not mad, sweetheart. He’s just…had a tough morning.”

Zaia’s sniffles grew louder, her fresh tears spilling over. She clung to Ivy tightly, her small fingers gripping almost desperately at her mother’s scrubs.

“I miss my daddy,” the little girl whimpered, her words a fragile echo of her broken heart.

“I know, sweetie. I know,” Ivy replied, her voice wavering as she fought back her own tears. She gently cupped Zaia’s face and wiped away the wet streaks with her thumbs. “It’s okay to miss him. But guess what? He’s watching over you in Heaven. He'll always be in your heart, okay?”

But even as she tried to console her daughter, Ivy’s mind raced. Zaia’s distress gnawed at her. How could she send her baby into school like this? Would it even be fair to ask her to focus, to pretend everything was fine when it so clearly wasn’t? The uncertainty weighed heavily on Ivy’s shoulders, even as she pulled Zaia into another hug, pressing a soft kiss to her curls. 

“Little lady?”

At the sound of his voice, Ivy glared up at Roman’s approaching figure, his face a mix of remorse and something she couldn’t quite name. She tensed, shielding her baby girl with her body. “What do you want?”

“I just…I want to apologize,” he said, his expression soft and remorseful. “Ivy, please. I was wrong. Let me make up for it.”

Ivy studied him warily before giving a reluctant nod. “Fine. But you’d better mean it.”

She didn’t take her eyes off Roman as he crouched down to Zaia’s level, his chiseled face drawn with regret. “Hey, little lady,” he said gently, his voice soft, almost tender. “I am so sorry for yelling at you. I didn’t mean to, but I was wrong to do that. Can you forgive me? I’ll never do it again, I promise.”

Rubbing her nose, Zaia looked to Ivy for approval, and Ivy, despite her better judgment, gave the go ahead with a short nod. 

“Okay. I forgive you,” Zaia answered, her smile small and watery.

Roman smiled back, his features awash with relief as he hugged her tight. “Thank you, Zaia.” He tapped her little nose playfully. “Tell you what, how about we get some ice cream after school? Just you, me, and Mommy. Wherever you want, and whatever flavors you want. That sound good?”

It was a winning bargain, as Zaia instantly brightened and she nodded eagerly, throwing her arms around his neck in another big, warm hug. Waving goodbye to the two adults, she spun around and zoomed off through the doors of the school. Roman smiled at her retreating figure, but when he turned back to her mom, the look in his eyes was more pleading than apologetic.

Ignoring him, Ivy kept her distance all the way back to the car. The moment the doors were shut, she exploded.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Roman? She’s a child!” she yelled.

Roman’s jaw ticked. He rubbed his face and exhaled a shaky breath. “You…you wouldn’t understand.”

“What’s there to understand? You fucking yelled at my daughter! You think I’m gonna let that slide?” she snapped, her anger barely contained. “Gemini warned me about this. To think I keep defending your ass, only for her to be right. This is how you really are!”

“No it’s not, I swear!”

“Then tell me what’s wrong! You've been acting up all week! Something is up with you and I wanna know what it is! And don’t lie to me!”

He hesitated, then dropped his gaze. “Okay then. Here’s the truth.” He swallowed hard. “Today…marks a year since…since Elesha died.”

Ivy blinked, her fury momentarily giving way to surprise. She hadn’t expected that. Her scowl softened, though her wariness persisted. “I’m sorry, Roman. I can’t imagine how hard that must be. But that don’t mean you get to take it out on Zaia or be an asshole to me. If being with me, being with us, is triggering you, just say so. If it’s too much—”

“It’s not too much,” he said quickly, his voice breaking. “Ivy, I swear to you, it’s not. Don’t ever blame yourself for my fuckup. I’m just…I’ve been trying, really trying, to process it all.” He looked at her, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Everything’s happened so fast. Losing her, moving here and meeting you…My feelings for you are so strong, and it scares the shit outta me cuz I don’t wanna lose you too.”

His vulnerability struck her like a tidal wave, raw and unguarded in a way that left her breathless. Roman looked shattered, the weight of his emotions carved into every line of his beautiful face. She hesitated, her own walls trembling, before gently resting her hand against his cheek. Her voice, barely more than a whisper, trembled with conviction.  

“Babe, you’re not gonna lose me. I only just found you,” she said. “I told you before. I’m here for you Roman, just like you are for me. I just need you to stop bottling things up and talk to me.”

A fragile, watery smile curved his lips, but it couldn’t mask the storm raging in his eyes. He leaned into her touch, his forehead resting against hers as though she was the only anchor he had left. For one brief, stolen moment, the chaos around them stilled.  

“I don’t deserve you,” he rasped, his voice thick with anguish. “I don’t know how to be without you. You’ve made my life worth something again—you and Zaia. I’m so sorry I snapped at her…Please, Ivy. I know I messed up…Don’t leave me. I need you.”  

Her chest constricted, the ache in his voice cutting through her like glass. The desperation in his gaze was a dagger, and despite every reason to walk away, she couldn’t. Because whatever doubts had begun to creep into the edges of her mind paled in comparison to what she was starting to feel for him. She was painfully aware of how hard, how undeniably she had fallen for him too, and it was in equal parts terrifying and exhilarating.  

Her fingers traced his jaw, her own tears threatening to spill. “I accept your apology,” she whispered, moved enough by the emotions pulsing between them to seal her words with a gentle kiss that tasted of unspoken vows and quiet redemption. “And I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured, kissing his forehead as well, her voice steady even as her heart thundered, even as the doubt lingered. “I promise.” 

“You sure you don’t want me to come over? I can leave this function that I’m at. We can just kick it for a lil’ bit.”

Gemini smiled into the phone, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger. “Thanks, Melo, but I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“So you don’t wanna see me? Damn, ma,” Carmelo sighed, the smooth baritone of his voice sending a delicious shiver down her spine. She knew he meant well, but the last thing she wanted was for him to worry about her more than he already did.

“Of course I wanna see you. I always do,” she insisted, her voice gentle and assured. “I just don’t want you feeling like you have to drop everything for me.”

“I know I don’t have to,” he replied, his tone laced with a quiet insistence. “But I want to. That’s different.”

She bit her lip, her gaze drifting to the window. The evening’s shadows stretched across her home, her reflection faint against the glass. His words warmed her, tugging at something she didn’t want to admit she’d missed—feeling cared for, wanted...a lover’s touch.

“I appreciate it,” she said softly, letting her guard down just a little. “But I promise, tonight is just about me catching up on work. Nothing to stress over.”

Carmelo was silent for a moment, and she could almost picture the wheels turning in his head. “A’ight,” he said finally, though the hesitation in his voice lingered. “But if anything changes—if you need me, or if you just feel like some company—holla at me and I’ll be right over. No questions asked.”

Gemini couldn’t help but smile again. He always knew how to walk that fine line between protective and overbearing, never crossing it, even when she pushed him away. “I’ll hold you to that,” she teased lightly. “But seriously, don’t let me mess up your evening. Have fun.”

“You know my nights ain’t the same without you, right?” His voice was teasing, but she could hear the undercurrent of truth in it. Her stomach fluttered, making her shy in a way only he could. 

“You’re smooth as fuck, you know that?” she giggled.

“Nah, I’m just honest. That’s why you like me so much. But I’ll let you get back to it—for now.” There was a smile in his voice now, and it made her chest ache in the best way.

“Goodnight, Officer Hayes,” she whispered.

“Goodnight, Miss Beaufort, Esquire. Don’t work too hard now, okay?”

She nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “I’ll try.” And as the call ended, she found herself staring at her phone, wondering just how much longer she could keep her guard up around someone who made her feel so safe, so…loved.

Sighing heavily, she refocused on the legal briefs and deposition notes scattered across her table. The phone call was a distraction, a brief escape from the mind-numbing class action case she was working on, but boredom gave way to curiosity as a notification popped up in her email, the logo of the dark website she frequented glowing on her laptop screen.

Her gaze was locked on the unopened documents. Tagged Psycho Hottie: The Coral Lake Butcher, the post drew her in with its absurd title. She clicked out of boredom, expecting yet another bizarre story or twisted fantasy from the forum’s strange array of users. Instead, she was staring into the face of someone she knew.

Roman.

There was no mistaking the sharp cheekbones, the slanted eyes, the smirk that always hovered at the edge of his lips. It was him—or at least it looked exactly like him.

Her stomach knotted as she clicked on the article accompanying the sketch. Published two months ago, the headline was simple but chilling:

Her eyes flicked down to the grainy mugshot embedded in the article, and her breath caught in her throat. It was Roman, no question about it. Shorter hair, but the same dark intensity in his eyes, the same chiseled, angular face. But the name was different. Roman Reigns was what Ivy called him. Mateo Hobbs was what the Floridian police called him.

The text beneath the mugshot only worsened her unease.

It has been nearly a year since Mateo Hobbs escaped police custody following his arrest for the brutal murders of his wife, Elesha Hobbs, and her alleged boyfriend, Tama Tonga. At the time of her death, Elesha was four months pregnant.

Witnesses reported seeing Hobbs flee from the Pensacola police precinct three days after his arraignment. He was awaiting formal charges when he disappeared.

Since his escape, Hobbs has been linked to a string of homicides along the Florida coast, with most victims being female sex workers in their twenties and early thirties.

Her blood cold, Gemini scrolled down, and her heart nearly stopped when she saw the photograph of his wife.

Fuck.

She looked just like Ivy.

The resemblance was uncanny—same smooth, deep brown skin, same pretty almond-shaped eyes, same slim thick figure. Roman had a type, it seemed, and Ivy fit it perfectly.

The article went on to describe his other possible victims. Young, beautiful women in their twenties or thirties. Throats slit. The pattern was clear, and Gemini’s mind immediately flashed to Rhea and Bianca.

Rhea, a pregnant woman. Her throat, brutally cut, several weeks ago. Another woman, Bianca, had disappeared shortly after. Probably dead, too. Both of them, as the Hartford Police discovered, were sex workers outside their day jobs, with Rhea an OnlyFans model and Bianca an escort. One woman from Middlesex and another from Fairfax, two towns en route to Hartford, died the exact same way Rhea did a couple of months ago. This felt like the markings of a serial killer, and Gemini had little doubt that Roman—no, Mateo—was responsible.

And then there was Angelo.

Gemini’s hand flew to her mouth as it hit her like a ton of bricks. Angelo had died in a car crash not long after Roman came into the picture. Everyone had assumed it was a tragic accident, but now Gemini could see the truth, almost clear as day. Roman had probably followed Angelo to that bar. Tampered with the brakes that had mysteriously failed.

Roman killed him.

She felt a wave of nausea but pushed it down, forcing herself to focus.

The article ended with a warning:

“Hobbs is considered armed and extremely dangerous. If sighted, do not approach. Contact law enforcement immediately on these numbers...”

But Gemini didn’t have time for law enforcement. Ivy didn’t have time for law enforcement.

Her hands moved on autopilot as she clicked “Print,” the printer spitting out page after page of damning evidence. She grabbed the stack and stuffed it into her bag, her thoughts racing.

“You’re always looking for problems where there aren’t any! Roman’s been nothing but good to me. Just because you don’t trust anyone doesn’t mean I should be the same!”

She and Ivy had barely spoken in weeks, but Gemini didn’t care. Her best friend’s life was on the line. She shoved her phone into her bag and bolted for the door. She had to get to Ivy. Immediately. 

Her mind was a chaotic mix of fear and determination. Would Ivy even listen? Or would she laugh off Gemini’s warning again?

It didn’t matter.

She wasn’t going to let Ivy end up like Roman’s wife, like Rhea, like Bianca, all those other women. And she wasn’t going to let Zaia grow up without a mother. Not when she no longer had a father, probably thanks to him.

She’d been suspicious about that monster ever since he stepped foot in Ivy’s house that night, sensing something off about his charm, his intensity, the way he inserted himself so seamlessly into Ivy’s life. And now she knew why.

She had to stop him.

The night air was cold as she stepped out of her house and rushed to her Mercedes. The air outside was eerily quiet. Too quiet. It was then she realized how empty her street was. No, it was more than empty - it was deserted. Worse, she felt like she was being watched even though nobody else seemed to be around. The stillness was oppressive. Not just silence, but wrong silence—the kind that seemed to buzz in her ears like a phantom noise, amplifying every beat of her heart.

And yet…something deep in her gut told her yet again that she wasn’t completely alone.

Gemini glanced down the street again, her unease mounting with every passing second. The dim, flickering streetlights cast jagged shadows that seemed to stretch and reach for her. Uncharacteristically spooked, she started to open her car door.

She froze, her mouth slowly falling open in horror.

Roman stood across the street, mere meters from her home, a black hoodie over his head. He wasn’t moving, but the intensity of his stare felt like a physical force, pinning her to the spot. Gemini’s breath hitched, her body going completely numb with terror. She tried to scream, but no sound came. Her throat was void, and terror was the only thing filling it. 

Fuck, the word tumbled through her mind, frantic and desperate, Fuck, fuck, fuck!

She squeezed her eyes shut, praying to God that she would open her eyes and it would be nothing more than a hallucination. Maybe it was a trick of the dim light. Maybe she’d open her eyes and find the street as empty as it had been moments ago. 

But when she dared to look again, Roman was moving. Striding towards her with deliberate, predatory determination.

At this, Gemini’s paralysis finally snapped. Her brain finally gave her legs permission to move, and she spun on her heel and bolted, her feet pounding against the pavement as she raced for her front door. Her bag bounced wildly against her side, her breath bursting in shallow, ragged gasps.

The edge of the pathway betrayed her. Her toe caught in the stone step, and she tumbled forward, crashing hard to the ground. A sharp burst of pain flared through her knee and palms as they scraped painfully against the concrete, but adrenaline surged through her veins, propelling her back to her feet.

Her house loomed ahead, so close, but yet so far. She fumbled with her bag, her injured fingers trembling as she rifled through it for her keys.

But Roman was fast. Quarterback fast. In an instant, he was behind her, his body slamming into hers and pinning her against the door with his entire two hundred plus pound frame. Her cheek pressed against the cold wood, causing a strangled cry to escape her lips.

“Where ya goin’, huh?” His voice was deep, terrifying, and far too close to her ear. His breath was hot against her skin. “You think you can run from me, bitch?”

Terror clawed at her throat, but through the fog of panic, she remembered - the can of Mace buried in her bag that Melo gave to her. Forcing herself to concentrate, Gemini discreetly dug her hand into her bag, feeling for the small, cylindrical lifeline.

Roman grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back, forcing her to meet his wild, hate-filled glare. Pain shot through her scalp and tears sprang to her eyes, but she didn’t let go of the Mace.

With a burst of defiance and a quick twist of her arm, she whipped the can up and aimed. A sharp hiss filled the air as the spray found his mark. 

“Arrrrgh!” Roman cried out in pain, clutching his face as he stumbled back. His curses rang in Gemini’s ears, but she didn’t waste a second. The keys were in her hand now, and she jammed them into the lock with shaking fingers. The door gave way at last, but just as she made to slam it shut behind her, Roman charged, tackling her to the ground in a vicious spear that almost broke her body in two. The impact knocked the wind out of her lungs, the back of her head hitting the hard floor, and she was sure she was concussed. Roman pounced, straddling her waist, pressing one hand against her throat as he held her down. His face, usually handsome and composed, was like something out of a horror film, his eyes wild and filled with hatred and madness. 

There he is…I knew it…

Grabbing Gemini by the hair, Roman stumbled to his feet and dragged her past the foyer, her desperate cries swallowed by the echoing silence of the house. Her nails clawed at his sleeved arms, her legs kicking wildly, the polished floor chafing uncomfortably against her skin. Her struggles were futile—Roman was too strong, his grip vice-like and unyielding. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the blinking red lights that should have been on the overhead cameras were gone. Disabled. By him, surely. He’d been in her house before, probably scouted her out in preparation for this day. Her heart sank as it dawned on her that no one would witness her futile fight for her life. 

As they reached the kitchen, Roman lifted her bodily off her feet, throwing her against the counter. Gemini hit the table spine-first, sending her crashing painfully to the ground.

“You just can’t leave shit alone, can you?” Roman snarled, his breath coming out in short bursts, his rage barely contained, “Always sticking your fucking nose where it don’t belong!”

Gemini gasped through her tears, scrambling to get away, but Roman easily caught up to her retreating form.

“I’m so fuckin’ sick of your shit,” he snarled, his voice venomous and trembling with fury as he stomped on her right leg with brute force. 

The crack of her bone echoed sickeningly all around the kitchen. Gemini screamed, the sound animalistic and blood-curdling, but it barely registered in the lifeless air. Pain surged through her body like wildfire, reducing her fight to pitiful spasms.

Roman’s handsome face twisted in a grotesque mask of a set and satisfaction. Slipping on a pair of black gloves, he crouched down beside her, tilting his head as though appraising a broken toy.

“Not so mouthy now, huh, bitch,” he taunted.

“P-Please…please don’t do this, Roman,” Gemini sobbed, clutching at her shattered leg. 

“Learn to shut the fuck up for once in your goddamn life,” he growled, his voice low and terrifying as he pulled out a knife from his pocket.

The blade flashed in the dim light, and before Gemini could process the motion, the cold steel sliced across her throat. Her scream died a gruesome death, a wet, choking gasp accompanying the blood pouring from the gaping wound. She tried to speak, to beg for what was left of her life, but all that came out was a pathetic, gargled noise.

Roman was on a roll, his chest heaving as he paced in circles around her twitching body.

“Stay the fuck outta my business, you nosy bitch! Ivy is mine!” he roared, pointing at himself. “She belongs to me! Ain’t nobody gon’ take her from me, not even you, you understand me, you-”

Lifting his right leg off the ground, he slammed it back down, a brutal stomp of his foot to her face following each word.

“Worthless!” Stomp.

“Fucking!” Stomp. 

“Bitch!” 

The awful sound of bone crunching filled the room. When he moved his foot, he saw that Gemini had gone stock-still. Her face was unrecognizable, her blood spreading in dark rivulets across the vinyl plank flooring.

Roman stood over her, his fists clenched and trembling as the red fog of rage cleared from his brain. The silence in the kitchen was deathly, deafening, broken only by his labored breathing. He looked down at the mangled, lifeless corpse, his nose wrinkling in disgust at the mess of bone, flesh and blood pooled around his feet, staining his black Air Forces.

“Goddamn it,” he sucked his teeth, wiping a hand in frustration across his sweaty forehead.

It wasn't supposed to go like this. Gemini was supposed to stay out of it, to leave him and Ivy alone. But her dumbass couldn’t. And now, he had another body to clean up.

But it was worth it, because no one would interfere with their love anymore. 

Ivy was all his now. Forever. Just like she promised him.

And he planned on holding her to that promise.

😬😬😬

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[harmshake]

Featuring: Roman Reigns x Ivy (Black Fem OC) Word Count: 11k Warnings: 18+, NSFW, language, angst, mentions of death/funeral, smut. Sorry for the delay but as you can see from the word count...this chapter is a beast. Happy Halloween! 🩸

Happy reading! Read more Roman fics by me or msbigredmachine, if you'd like! ✨

One week was starting to feel like an eternity when those seven days lacked the sight of Ivy and Zaia. His woman, whether she wanted to admit it or not, Angelo loved her like she was meant to be his wife. Sure…it took him time to get his head on straight and show it. And sure…he still wasn’t perfect at it. But it was the liquor that tried to make him meaner, angrier, than who he really was, that’s what his AA sponsor had told him, but damn it…Ivy still wouldn’t let him make things right. And now she wouldn’t even let him see his babygirl who he didn’t mean to hurt. He didn’t mean to hurt anyone. 

He was just so fucking heated that Ivy had the audacity to allow a stranger to be so close to her, to their daughter, just because he was a classically handsome nigga. Something about that face of his put a small chill through his heart, even as he felt his blood boil when they fought last week. But none of that shit mattered now. Ivy seemed to have chosen that meathead over him, blocking his number so his apologetic texts couldn’t even go through. He had a key to her house still but he didn’t bother showing up when he feared the woman had changed the locks or put a restraining order on him considering the volatile look in her eyes last Angelo saw her…and the fucking evil look on Roman’s face like if he caught Angelo near that house again, he’d go missing.

And it wasn’t like Angelo was scared of that big ass nigga, but more so he felt something instinctive about his safety, something that made his blood curdle when it tried to heat again at the thought of him. Or maybe that was the whiskey burning through him after he tossed back another shot. The bar and lounge he sat in was a bit crowded for a Thursday night, warm bodies pushed up on him on all sides as he leaned his elbows on the wooden counter with his face in his palms. He let out a sigh, or a grunt, or a burp, he couldn’t be sure at this point. He was wasted, though, that was for sure, the first time he’d been wasted in years. He wanted to be disgusted with himself that he let himself get back here after how hard he worked to sober up and be a better man for himself and a better dad for Zaia…but he was so groggy with that fifth shot of Maker’s Mark that he almost felt nothing, almost numb.

Which was a welcome change to feeling hatred. Hatred for how he unintentionally upset his little girl, how he couldn’t hold her and tell her daddy was sorry. Hatred for how Ivy shut him out instead talking, or arguing, it through like they usually did. Hatred for how the reason seemed to be another fucking man who had no business in their business…

“Ay, gimme ’notha one of thessse,” Angelo slurred to the bartender who was passing by with a tray of shots for the rowdy ass group of older women to his left. The guy took one look at him, sucked his teeth, and shook his head, his short locs shaking with it, before Angelo called to him, “I know y’heard me, man!”

The bartender returned a couple of seconds later with an empty tray and still no drink for him as he spoke over the loud Metro Boomin and 21 Savage song playing throughout the bar, the bass of “Don't Come Out The House” trying to drown him out. “You’re cut off. I told you that after the last one, man. Pay your tab and get outta here.”

Angelo tried to refrain from catching an attitude, tried to reason with him…but maybe his words came out more slurred or hostile than he intended because the next thing he knew, the bartender started reaching for something under the bar like Angelo was a threat. And when Angelo started to reach for him, trying to keep him pulling whatever he had hidden under there by pulling him by his shirt collar after he reached over the bar, security was on him like white on rice, handling him like he was a threat neutralized, tossing him outside until he stumbled into the parking lot.

It took everything in him not to switch around and knock that fool upside the back of his bald head as he walked away because even in the haze of his drunken thoughts, Angelo didn’t want to see a jail cell tonight. But the hatred that still surged in his blood wasn’t wearing off. Matter of fact, that shit just made it worse…and it wasn’t the security guard who deserved the smoke. Nah. That was Roman.

Angelo ran his slightly trembling hands over his white t-shirt that had gotten wrinkled from the altercation, the whiskey starting to scorch through the hatred, or fuel it, as he took a deep, shaky breath to calm himself enough to get behind the wheel and pull up to that meathead’s house across town. His car was on the south side of the bar and Angelo staggered past rows of vehicles, having to grab a few by the trunk to get his bearings when either his Jordans caught on the loose gravel of the asphalt, or when he left the street lights behind him as this side of the building was shrouded in darkness. 

Thankfully he could still see his silver Lexus tucked between two black SUVS in the short distance. He could also see the darkness move near his car, a flit of a shadow fitting itself between his vehicle and the building and out of sight. “...Thuh hell?” Angelo said under his breath and blinked, wiping his hand over his face, a wriggle of shame crawling up his spine that he was so drunk that he was seeing shit like that. Or maybe it was just a stray cat. Either way, he steadied himself and slipped into his front seat, swearing to himself he wouldn’t get pulled over or let Roman punk him again tonight…not when he had the glock under his seat for occasions such as this. 

He got the engine going and got going down the road fast, foot heavy on the gas and brain just as heavy as it sloshed with one mission in his skull, the darkness following him as the road was dimly lit with the sparse street lights zipping past him on the side of the pavement. Only the reflectors on the road glared in his vision with his bright headlights lit his path and Angelo wasn’t sure when even those disappeared, that darkness engulfing his view before it was a wide oak tree consuming it at full speed that his brakes didn’t want to keep him from crashing into. His tires screeched on the dewy grass and soft soil and his shocked yelp just was piercing as his foot mashed the pedal that suddenly wasn’t working no matter how many times he stomped on it…that darkness that was after him surrounding him in an instant as everything went to black.

“The Hartford County Sheriff's Office is asking for the public’s help to find Bianca Belair, a 25-year-old woman who is missing,” Linda, the local anchorwoman, said in a monotone as she sat at her news desk. “She was last seen October 19th at one p.m. leaving her place of work, Planet Fitness on Ellington Road wearing a black leotard and black leggings. Anyone with information regarding Bianca’s whereabouts is urged to contact the Hartford County Sheriff’s Office Central Dispatch or dial 911.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Ivy mumbled as the evening news report she peered down at on her iPad zoomed in on a photo of the missing young woman, her pretty, bright smile and long, braided ponytail falling over her shoulder with the bold, black words MISSING appearing right beneath it. She was glad she listened to the news with her AirPods in her ears so Zaia, who was hopefully fast asleep upstairs, couldn’t hear such scary and sad stories. And what a scary and sad image, someone who looked so full of life was missing and potentially in trouble…or dead. Ivy hated to let her thoughts stray to the worst, but with what happened to that other woman, Rhea, and her unborn child, as well as the several other women who wound up missing and murdered…she prayed Bianca would be found safe and sound and soon. 

She sank further into the cushions of her couch and took a sip of her evening hot tea, a blend of lemon and chamomile, usually the perfect after-work potion to relax her nerves when the hospital could be so busy and yet bleak at the same time, but the soothing flavor in her mug didn’t do much soothing with that news still on her screen before it flashed to another. 

“A suspected drunk driver is dead after his car crashed five miles south of the VIBES Bar and Lounge on Thursday night,” Linda said and Ivy shook her head as she tucked her knees to her chest, balancing her iPad against them as she cradled her warm mug in her hands. “Emergency responders were dispatched today after multiple 911 calls reported a crash on the side of Maple Avenue. Upon arrival, they discovered a vehicle, a silver Lexus, had collided with a tree with one person found inside the car, identified as Angelo Harris, aged thirty-three, who was pronounced dead at the scene.”

The mug of tea in her hands nearly spilled into her lap as Ivy suddenly felt numb from the neck down, and yet somehow she felt a vicious shudder slither through her body and sink into the pit of her stomach until she felt violently nauseous, ripping out her AirPods because she couldn’t hear the rest of the story. She wanted to gasp, scream, cry, but all that left her lips was a feeble gurgle that housed her shock. Angelo was…dead? How? He was just in her house last week. He was drunk? He hadn’t drank in years.

And if that feeling of him being in her life and out of it just as fast wasn’t already making her sick, it was the wriggle of the slightest of slight…relief. Ivy didn’t hate the man and certainly didn’t wish death on him, but the stress he had been putting her through was going to send her to an early grave, she was sure of it. It’s why she banned Angelo from ever coming near her or her daughter ever again, especially after he confused and hurt the child with his stupid rage. Yet to hear that he had fallen victim to a drunken accident…it made her feel like maybe she pushed him to it—or maybe he pushed himself to it after the stunt he pulled last week. He was getting more explosive, more angry, and less easy to manage. Maybe his relapse was bound to happen…but Christ, a car fatal wreck?

Ivy shut her iPad off and tossed it to the couch before she all but slammed her mug to the coffee table before she leapt up and down the hall to the downstairs bathroom, her thoughts a fucking jumbled, guilty, sad, anxious, horrified mess, just like her stomach as she threw herself to her knees in front of her toilet, bracing the lid and hunching over. Except the churning bile didn’t come up, only hot, stinging tears that came down from her eyes and dribbled from her chin as she let out a sob. A part of her felt bad to even cry because before she heard that news, she was still grateful about her decision to kick Angelo out of her life…but the other part of her felt the abrupt and disgusting grief of losing a person she once cared about—about her daughter losing her father.

Zaia. How on earth was Ivy going to tell her baby that her daddy was gone? She couldn’t think straight enough to form thoughts let alone words, her tears choking her up as she struggled to quiet herself lest her daughter or Duchess wake up to investigate the noise. But noise sounded from beyond the bathroom, anyway, her cell phone bleating with what she inherently knew was a call from Gemini who definitely was watching the late news and saw the same story. And then another sound blared out, three heavy and steady knocks at her front door, the sudden cacophony in her head and now in her home making her sick to her stomach all over again. 

Ivy couldn’t imagine who it could be as Gemini couldn’t be here that quickly, and she silently prayed it wasn’t Roman, her new, next door neighbor who she hadn’t had the nerve to speak to much in the last week after the physical altercation he got into with Angelo. It wasn’t for a lack of trying on his behalf as he’d left her a hand-written apology letter on what felt like an expensive stationary of weighted paper in a cotton envelope, followed by a couple bouquets of white and pink roses. Yet none of it made Ivy feel ready to deal with a new man in her life when she finally got through dealing with the old one. And absolutely not now.

However, when the knock persisted, a woman’s voice trilled through her door. “This is the Hartford Police Department. We’re here to speak with Miss Ivy Jones regarding Angelo Harris.”

Ivy rubbed at her puffy eyes and cheeks with the back of her sleeve before she scrambled to her feet, flinging herself to the mirror above the sink to check if she looked somewhat presentable as she wasn’t expecting visitors at ten p.m. on Saturday, especially not the fucking cops. They made her nervous, even though she never did anything to make them wary of her, yet she found herself frantically tucking her curly flyaways into her messy top knot, smoothing her shaky fingers along her black sweater, and trying to walk at a normal pace and look normal when she opened the door to see an older, brunette woman and bald man behind her in their blue uniforms standing there with stern looks on their faces.

“Are you Ivy Jones?” the woman officer asked after glancing down at the clipboard in her hands. 

“Y-yeah. I am,” Ivy blubbered, snatching her sleeves over her knuckles to blot at her watery eyes again. The woman’s steely line for lips shifted into a softer sort of grimace to see Ivy visibly disheveled before she flipped through the papers on her clipboard, the officer behind her pointing a flashlight over her shoulder to provide a little more light than Ivy’s porch lights. 

“I’m sorry but we’re here to deliver bad news. Your partner Angelo was killed in a car accident three days ago.” The woman officer paused as she waited for Ivy react, step aside, do something, but Ivy felt stuck, her feet in her fuzzy slippers grouted to her wood floors, her eyes fastened to the dark space behind the officers’ heads, and her head bogged down in too much noise to even hear the officer properly, her thoughts and phone still ringing like a shrill cry for help. “You wanna answer that, ma’am?” the woman officer offered in a soft tone and Ivy blinked twice before she nodded and ripped her feet from where she stood to trod over to her couch and grab her phone.

Fresh tears brimmed her eyes when she saw Gemini’s name and the five missed calls from her as another one came through, and Ivy let them marr her face as she answered and heard her best friend try to soothe her before she could even say a word, likely hearing her subtle snivel on the line. “I am so, so sorry. I can be there in twenty minutes if you want the company, love.”

“Yes, thank you,” was all Ivy could muster up through her tears so thick they clogged her throat. Hearing her best friend’s calm voice amid the chaos gave Ivy a bit of solace, even for that brief call before she hung up and let the police talk her through Angelo’s accident before delivering her a copy of his death report since he had her listed as his next of kin. And she would need every single bit of that solace as she contemplated how to talk her babygirl through what just happened tonight in the morning. 

She made her way upstairs now, tiptoeing as she neared Zaia’s bedroom and slowly twisting the doorknob to not make a sound and disturb her as she poked her head in to look at her sleeping peacefully, thankfully not disturbing Duchess, either, who only lifted her tiny head a tad to witness Ivy gently closing the door behind her. However, when she was halfway down the stairs, another, quieter rap upon her front door made Ivy’s head hurt again as she wondered what the cops had forgotten to speak with her about. She longed for the night to just be done, a gargled, exhausted sigh leaving her lips as she pulled open the door. She swallowed that sigh against her will, though, heart aching in a new, mangled way when she saw it was Roman on her porch, instead. 

“Ivy…I just heard. I’m…I’m sorry.” The depths of his deep voice reached his eyes, dark, deep, and gazing down at her through a lock of his loose, long hair, a remorse in them that she felt try to shudder her bones as he stood before her tall but almost crouched in his position. Wide shoulders sunken and big hands buried in the front pocket of his red, Nike hoodie. His bearded chin downturned with a slight clench that worked through his jaw as he studied Ivy studying him, the surprise on her face to see him seeping out of her slowly as his sympathy for her seeped in. She could feel it, feel how sorry he was not just for Angelo’s accident, but for what happened last week. Sorry that he was part of her troubles, sorry that he upset her enough that she didn’t want to see him, and sorry for Angelo’s demise.

And Ivy knew it to be true, his letter and roses still tucked away in her bedroom, the card lying facedown on her vanity dresser and the flowers in the glass vase they came with and perched on the opposite side. But things between them were just…awkward. And now unsettling as neither of them could have predicted that this would be the way Angelo would stay gone from her life. Something that she had felt Roman wanted to help her with before he put hands on the man, and now she found herself slipping her hands around his waist after a small step towards him, his own hands carefully slipping up her back until he cradled her to his chest, her face hidden in his as she freely wept into it.

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry,” Roman whispered to her again, his warm breath wisping through her hair before he rested his cheek there as he held her as she cried, wordless, aching sounds rasping out of her and muffled by his hoodie as everything and nothing made sense all at once. This man, by all means a stranger, comforting her and that comfort feeling familiar to her, giving her a different taste of the solace she desperately needed. The ugly guilt of that peace wrapped up in him tried to make Ivy cry harder, but Roman’s fingers stroking little circles along her spine tried to soothe the rattle in her bones. 

In the haze of her tears and fears, it felt like another breakthrough of sorts. Just like that moment they shared in her backyard as they held hands…that even in such scary and sad times, there was a glimmer of hope and healing to be found in the seconds that ticked away. Those seconds turned into what felt like minutes as Roman let her cry and cling to him for as long as she wanted, until Ivy glanced up at him with glistening eyes and asked quietly, “Do you want to come in? It’s cold out here.”

Truth be told, she hardly felt that autumn chill with his heat surrounding her, but the goosebumps on her bare legs in her pajama shorts told a different story. Roman nodded once, his full lips tucked in between his teeth as if to lessen a hopeful smile as he followed her inside, the heat of her home almost waning in comparison to his when they settled onto her couch and he put his arm over her shoulder, nestling her to his much bigger and muscular body that she could feel tense up beside her as she rested her head on his chest. It made her wonder if that sudden stiffness in him was because he, too, felt that odd coiling of sin to be so close with a person he’d essentially just met…and yet that coiling of curiosity and warmth kept them close, anyway.

He cleared his throat, Ivy’s eyes on his Adam’s apple shifting and his hand coming up to run over his mouth and grayish beard, his other hand on her arm with fingers still stroking in those little circles, pacing slower now, his voice somewhat gruff and cautious when he spoke softly. “I don’t wanna say the wrong thing here…but I just wanna let you know that I’m here for you. I know what it’s like to lose someone you care about…and I know he wasn’t someone who made shit easy for you, but still. I know you cared about him. In your own way. And I’m sorry, Ivy.”

The apology, like the ones he belted as they stood outside, felt strangely two-pronged to Ivy. Maybe it was the repetition or maybe it was the remorse she still felt in his tone, something lingering in the bass of it like maybe…he felt the same as she did. Sorry that Angelo was dead and sorry that his death was the end to her headaches. That shudder tried to make its way through her again, Roman felt it for certain because he squeezed her to him a little tighter. 

“I’m sorry, too,” Ivy heard herself say, her eyes distant even as they fixated on her abandoned mug of tea, ice cold on her coffee table as Roman’s warmth did the job the little beverage was meant to do. “For not speaking to you after…after all that shit went down. You were just trying to defend me.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. You were only tryin’ to protect your peace,” he reminded her before she felt the tips of his thick fingers beneath her chin to steer her gaze to his. Something a little heavier than remorse swirled in his brown eyes, perhaps more akin to disgrace, like he felt the weight of his actions last weekend nearly crush any goodwill he had built with her. Something she felt heavy in her chest as her heart thudded with his eyes on her like this, looking at her in that way of his that both made her feel his sincerity and his longing to make it right. Roman’s thumb brushed below her bottom lip, his lips already closer than they should be to hers as he searched her eyes to see if she’d accept his next words as the truth. “I need you to know I’ll never treat you like he did. I’ll never put you through anything like that again. Ever.”

His vow touched her lips with his hushed breath she felt on her cheeks, the scent of mint and his cologne filling her nostrils, filling her head with placid thoughts for the first time tonight. Like how hope was closer to her than she thought. Like how soft his lips were when they met hers. So close that their noses nudged together, his skin and even the hairs of his mustache soft as his mouth moved with hers, a delicate kiss that made a delicate smacking sound as Ivy instinctively leaned into him, chasing more of that warmth, her and Roman’s breathing just as delicate until it deepened with a hitch as she slid her hand up his chest, as his hand on her chin slid around to the back of her head, locking them in that delicate moment before a knock at her door erupted the contained silence of her living room.

They faltered back from each other, Ivy’s heart racing and the blissed look on Roman’s handsome face revealing that his was, too, but he composed himself first and quite quickly, a grave look brewing in his eyes as his brows furrowed. “Is that the cops again?”

“No, no…that’s gotta be Gem. She was on her way here,” Ivy replied, slipping off the couch to head to the door and hiding from him her own eyebrows knitting together at the uncomfortable yet thankfully fleeting feeling Roman’s reaction gave her. And when she swung the door open to let in her best friend, she expected the feeling to dissipate altogether as Gemini wrapped her up in a hug…but the embrace was just as fleeting when she spotted Roman on her couch some feet away.

“Oh…hey, Roman. Didn’t expect to see you here,” Gemini greeted him curtly but still plastered a pleasant grin on her face as he approached the women in Ivy’s foyer. Gemini’s eyes flashed to her with a wariness that only she could read and Ivy did her best not to roll her tired eyes because now was not the time for her friend to exercise her judgment of Roman who was only here to support her like she was. 

“He was just leaving...just came over to see how I was doing,” Ivy said after Roman waved two fingers at Gemini with a polite smile that seemed to unnerve Gemini more for some reason. Ivy looked to Roman with regret swimming in her eyes to essentially shoo him away, especially with his kiss still shimmering on her lips, but he seemed to understand as he nodded along to her suggestion, despite Gemini watching him like a hawk as he stepped towards the door. But he didn’t walk through it without turning back to put his arms around Ivy for one last hug…and one last delicate kiss that he planted on her forehead before glancing at Gemini and bidding them both a good night.

Roman was careful to keep the glance simmered, not a glare like it could have been as Gemini wasn’t so careful with how she glowered at him, but regardless, the message was sent. He was going to be a part of Ivy’s life now whether her best friend liked it or not.

Funerals weren’t occasions Ivy attended often, not with Zaia in tow who was bright and understood the dreary meaning behind such occasions. The atmosphere of them was too suffocating and grim and she hated to be engulfed by it in a church where the spirited gospel music tried to encourage a lighter feeling than the one twisted up and gnawing in her stomach. But Ivy hated even more that her little girl had to feel the same twisting and gnawing as she sat in her mama’s lap, her small, round face stained with tears that hadn’t stopped flowing since she had to sit her down and tell her that daddy was with the Lord, her small whimpers in her ear as she clutched a Kleenex that she had given to her but her baby didn’t use as much as she cried into the lapel of Ivy’s black, collared dress as she held her. 

It broke her heart into a million pieces all over again, reliving the news of Angelo’s death through Zaia as her daughter tried to process it the best she knew how: Clutching onto her mama for dear life and shielding her face from the new horror that confined her. Ivy would hold her for as long as she wanted, carrying her as they huddled into the black limo Angelo’s family sent to her home to pick them up for the services; carrying her as they filed inside the chapel and viewed the closed casket as Ivy learned from his cousins who would talk to her that his parents, who handled the funeral arrangements without her, decided it was the best decision since he didn’t look the same after the horrible accident; and carrying her into the church annex where the repast was taking place.

Just as Ivy despised funerals, she despised being surrounded by most Angelo’s family, their self-righteous scowls and downright shrewd stares upsetting her as they watched her sitting with her baby still on her lap when they found their own table with Gemini mercifully at her side…and Roman at the other. Angelo’s relatives, and especially his Christian and overbearing mother, were never too fond of her for not accepting him into her life with open arms—even though they were all aware of the bullshit he put her through time and time again. Instead, they always treated Ivy like the issue, like Angelo’s drinking problems, his struggle into sobriety, and now maybe even his death, was her fault because she didn’t love him unconditionally like they did. 

“We can leave whenever you’re ready. I think you going to the funeral to pay your respects was doing more than enough,” Gemini mumbled in Ivy’s ear after a reproving glance around the room, her hand covering her mouth. The annex was a bit noisy with the clattering of forks on plates, gloomy chitchat, and the like, but even her best friend knew she couldn’t be too sure about who was eavesdropping in on their conversation since it felt like all eyes were on them and who Ivy decided to bring as her support system. And it wasn’t like Gemini didn’t try to warn her, yet she didn’t fight her on it, either, because she wanted her friend to have all the support she could get during this time.

Ivy shrugged her shoulders, half to gently readjust Zaia’s chunky, black bow headband and keep her cozy as she had fallen asleep on her and half to Gemini’s proposal, looking at the barely touched plates of baked chicken, mac and cheese, and greens Gemini had made for her and Zaia. She was seriously contemplating it as she spotted Angelo’s mother, Gloria, who had been talking with the pastor who presented Angelo’s eulogy but was now starting to walk towards them, making her stomach twist again. She felt herself bristle because she was certain the woman had nothing consoling to say to her, not with Gemini already staring her down right back and with Roman, a random-to-her man at her son’s repast, not even his funeral, in his black, three piece suit, holding her hand on his lap beneath the table that wasn’t obvious unless she was intending to glare at it.

“You really have some nerve, you…you harlot,” Gloria hissed at Ivy, the slits of her eyes zeroing in on Ivy before they appraised the man next to her with disgust. “My son isn’t even in the ground before you bring another man around his child! God is ashamed of you!”

“Who do you think you’re talking like that in front of your grandbaby?!” Ivy hissed back, keeping her voice a bit more restrained than Gloria’s to avoid more eyes swarming their way but it was too late. And even then, her voice was drowned out by Roman’s who abruptly spoke at the same time as her, much to her surprise as the bass of it was commanding yet calm and made Gloria’s eyes snap to him. 

“You’re way out of line usin’ that language, ma’am,” Roman said, fingers flexing softly around Ivy’s when she tried to squeeze his and make him hush. Yet he had that grave look in his eyes that she recognized from last week when they were on her couch…a look that made Gloria’s mouth fall open slightly, with awe or fright or both as he continued, “This woman did all she could for your son and that includes bein’ an amazing mother to your grandchild. It’s not her fault what happened to him…and it’s not your concern how she chooses to cope with his tragic mishap.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Gemini hopped up then when Gloria looked like she was about to screech or swing as the older woman raised her hand too close to where Ivy sat before her best friend stood in between them. She glared at Gloria in her big, black and white church hat and chided her, “I suggest you lower your hand outta my friend’s face if you wanna keep it,” but she also turned to chide Ivy as she added, “Get up and let’s go. Now.”

It was like that suffocating and grim air got sucked right out of the room and into Ivy’s lungs as she gathered up her baby, her Gucci mini handle bag, and Roman who followed behind her with Gemini leading the way to the parking lot of the church, those eyes of his family and Gloria burning holes into their backs, leaving Ivy gasping with a fit of rage, despair, and frustration she couldn’t put into words. Gemini took Zaia off her hands to carefully lay her down in the backseat of her Mercedes-Benz before she took Ivy into her arms next.

“Let’s get you home, babe. Y’all are riding with me,” she said to her friend as Roman loomed behind them with his eyes on his black leather loafers before they shot up to meet her glare. That same, simmering, not-a-glare but not-a-kind-look in his eyes as Gemini all but held Ivy away from him.

“I’m parked on the other side of the church…I’ll see you later, if you want, Ivy,” Roman inserted his words as a soft coo, his hand on Ivy’s lower back as she shimmied free of Gemini’s hug to give him one, too, before they parted ways. Both of them being there for her meant the world to her, even if she knew Gemini wasn’t particularly pleased that Roman was allowed in her space on a day like today. 

But what her friend failed to realize, and what she would explain to her when they got back to her place, is that it wasn’t like Ivy was doing anything intentionally malicious, especially not like Gloria had insinuated. She still felt that ugly guilt, that bitter bile on her tongue because she felt solace in Roman, from his kiss, one that she didn’t let happen again since the first one for that very reason. Her attraction to the man, her hopeful feelings trying to spring up from the soil of grief that was sown against their will…she had a dozen feelings trying to overwhelm her without her input since Angelo died. Hell, since before he died.

The sadness, the relief, the hope, the comfort…she needed more of the comfort lest she spiral to a place where no one could find her. And if that comfort was a sin just because it happened to be in the arms of her new friend who was a beautiful and charming man, then God would just have to forgive her. Eventually, so would Gemini.

Yet after they both watched Roman pull away from the church in his black Maserati, the tinted windows of his car masking if he was looking at them as they looked after him zipping down the road, Gemini surely looked to Ivy with nothing vague about her worry as they sat at her kitchen island with the half-full bottle of wine she’d brought over the other day. It was only after they got Duchess to settle down with fresh food and water in her doggy bowls and got Zaia settled into her bed for a nap, Ivy silently thanking Jesus that her baby mostly slept through one of the worst days of their lives. 

“I appreciate you being here for me, but Gem…I don’t like that look on your face,” Ivy vocalized in a concerned utter. Gemini didn’t even try to fix it and instead let the slight wrinkles of her forehead deepen as she frowned at her friend. The lavender tips of her nails anxiously tapped against the bowl of her wine glass before she let out a sigh, and Ivy braced herself for what she had to say.

“I just…I don’t like this, bestie. You know I love you and all I want is to see you and Zaia be okay…but I’m feeling like something isn’t right. With Roman.”

“Gem, please…I think you’re overreacting.”

“Am I? Listen, I didn’t want to make you feel bad about inviting him to the repast because I understood why you did it…but him accepting the invitation after knowing you a whole two weeks? And then him talking to Angelo’s mom like that? That’s not his place at all.”

“Well, look how she started talking to me! He’s my friend and he was doing exactly what a friend does…stick up for me. It’s the same thing you did, too,” Ivy asserted and gestured to her before Gemini shook her head like she wasn’t trying to hear it.

“Difference is I can do that because I know you. He does not. And we don’t know him like that, either. Like…how can you trust a man who acts like that?”

“Like what?” Ivy folded her arms over her chest and tried not to feel offended because she wasn’t sure what Gemini was getting at exactly. 

“I told you something about his energy is off to me…and when you told me about that fight he got into Ange, it clicked. He acts all suave and charming but you told me he beat that man into a pulp almost in an instant. That’s an impulsive anger that men like him try to hide until it jumps out.” Gemini lowered her tone, then, perhaps to keep her niece upstairs from accidentally hearing what she knew was about to be out of pocket. “And who’s to say it jumped out again and that’s why Ange isn’t breathing now.”

“I’m not listening to this,” Ivy shot up from the barstool, her fingertips pressing into her temples as felt the pang of a dreaded headache try to pierce through behind her weary eyes because what the hell was that connection? It made no sense to Ivy other than her best friend being too caught up in conspiracies that she thought she could contrive another one with a man who had done nothing but try to protect Ivy. She swiveled back around to face her, straining to keep her voice even as she asked, “You know what, no. Answer me this. Why would you want Roman to be the reason Angelo is dead and not Angelo who hurt himself? His autopsy showed that he was definitely intoxicated, triple over the limit, when he decided to drive that night.”

“I don’t want that, Ivy! I’m just telling you to keep your eyes open, baby.” Gemini got up, too, and met her on the other side of the island to put her hands on her shoulders. Ivy knew she meant well, she always did, but her timing hardly felt appropriate when she knew Ivy craved comfort, not a damn conspiracy. But her friend’s brown eyes behind her wire-rimmed glasses were on her like she was the only one who truly had them open to see what Ivy couldn’t—like Ivy was too blinded by grief or lust or some uneasy mingling of the two. Like she was the only one who could comfort Ivy the right way as she tried to mutter sweetly, “I’m not calling Roman a bad guy because he did stand up for you. But you can never be too sure where guys like him will point their anger next. We know this because of Angelo. So, just be mindful…okay, sis?”

As much as Ivy wanted to protest that she felt no such energy from Roman, none outside of those little bursts of passion when he wanted to defend her, she didn’t want to extend this lecture. She just wanted to crawl into bed, sleep, and wake up when this day was over. “Okay, sis,” Ivy repeated and let Gemini hug her as she put her arms around her friend, too. And with a promise to check on her later, Gemini left her to rest—but not without a promise to herself that she would dig a little deeper into Roman because it was obvious to her that her best friend would not bother. 

Because one thing for certain and two things for sure, Gemini wasn’t in the Neighborhood Watch for nothing. There were too many women missing or dead in their area lately and something about Roman smelled suspicious to her, the stench too close to her friend for her liking with his home right next door. And as Gemini got home and in front of her laptop in her office to bring up the resources she needed to investigate, like the police’s criminal history search and hopefully Roman’s social media, she swore it would have to be over her dead body for Ivy to be his, or whoever was behind these murders, next victim.

The dark sky would have felt like the morning before the sun if there weren’t stars still littered in the black expanse, Ivy’s eyes on them through her bedroom blinds slanted open, letting her know she didn’t sleep long enough for it to be the next day, the horrid day of Angelo’s funeral still present. She grabbed her phone on her nightstand, the time glaring bright as 11:11 p.m. on her screen before she winced and rubbed at her puffy eyes. 

Her first thought was to climb out of bed and check on Zaia until she remembered her daughter was right next to her, her baby crawling under the sheets to sleep beside her mama because she said she didn’t want to sleep alone. Ivy leaned over to kiss her head and kiss Duchess’s furry head, too, since she snuck her way in between them at some point during the night, before she eased up to stretch and fetch a glass of water for her throat that was a bit sore from the week’s worth of crying and emotion wearing on it. Yet just like that one night, the light glowing through her window from the street lights and her neighbor’s window caught her attention before she left her room. Yet unlike last time, Ivy yanked her eyes away before she could spot Roman appearing in her view or her appearing in his…

She padded down to her kitchen, plucked a glass from her cupboard to fill with water from her Brita filter pitcher in her fridge, and gulped a couple of cool, relieving sips as she entered her bedroom to see her phone lighting up by itself in the darkness with a phone call. Ivy expected it to be Gemini as she put her glass down and picked up her phone, but it was Roman’s name on the screen, having exchanged numbers a few days ago to keep in touch should she “want him for anything” as he put it. Yet when she answered, the soft yearning in his deep, slightly sleepy voice sent an unexpected yet pleasant, warm thrill through her as he said her name and stated what he wanted.

“I notice you’re still up…would you like to come over? I wanna see you.”

“I’d like to see you, too…but I have to stay put with Zaia. Wait, though…how did you know I was up? Are you…watching me?” Ivy spoke quietly, teasingly, because as clearly as she could see his bedroom light, surely he could have seen her kitchen light flick on and off when she was in there moments ago. 

“I saw your light on…and I know you see mine,” he said and she could hear his little chuckle on the line. It made her pipe up with a somewhat startled giggle because did that mean he saw her looking through his window the other day? “Come to your bedroom window. So you can watch me, too.”

“I…watch you do what?” Ivy mumbled in an excited hiss she wished she could contain better as she heard Zaia whimper in her sleep and hoped she didn’t perturb her. Yet as she approached her window once more, drawing up the blinds until nothing was blocking the hauntingly beautiful sight of Roman standing in his window, too, almost made an eep escape from her throat as he looked directly at her with a tantalizing grin on his handsome face. He was fully clothed this time, his hair pulled up into a slick bun with his pajamas consisting of a black tank top that showed off the bulging muscles of his shoulders tatted on one side, hugging his cut torso as it tucked into a pair of gray joggers low on his hips, one of his hands shoved into its pocket as he held his phone to his ear. 

“Nothin’ R-rated. Not like the last time.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about...”

“Yeah, right.” They both laughed softly before he said in a hushed tone, “If you can’t come over, maybe we can spend time together like this. If you don’t mind.” Roman winked and Ivy blushed as they locked eyes across the short distance between their respective, dark yards and yet with his voice in her ear, his soothing breathing that was almost in sync with hers, she felt like they were just as close as they were the other day on her couch. 

“I don’t mind…maybe I’ll come over some time this week, too. If my crazy ass work schedule allows it. I have to be back to the hospital tomorrow.” Ivy sighed to herself as she saw Roman frown at her expense, thinking of how she was grateful for her job but not grateful that because of her position, she was rarely allowed time off, even for bereavement. Nurses deserve much better, she thought.

“Take a day off. You’re the boss there, right? God knows you need it as hard as I know you work.”

“I’m the assistant head nurse. Which basically means I do my job and every job the head nurse doesn’t wanna do, soo.”

She heard and witnessed Roman blow a raspberry through his lips and she smiled a bit, especially as he said, “Fuck that. Take yourself off the schedule for this Friday comin’ up.”

“What’s on Friday?” Ivy asked, coiling a few strands of her hair that fell from her bun around her finger. She felt coy to even ask because she had a good idea from how Roman was looking at her with that subtle yet heated glint in his eyes that she could see even from where she stood, could feel smoldering along her skin, too. It sent another heated thrill through her as he confirmed what she was thinking, what she wanted…what she needed.

“You and me. Dinner. I was thinkin’ The Mill on the River. Somethin’ to get your mind off things…escape somewhere as beautiful as you.”

The little, black, strapless dress that Ivy had pulled from her closet was leaving little to the imagination and little to warm her as the fall, evening breeze skirted her skin and shins laced in strappy black, open-toed heels, but at least she had her sage green, faux fur coat to help, as well as Roman’s arm around her waist as he walked with her on the wooden dock bordering the sparkling, black river under the moonlight and fire-lit torches. The bridge led them to the restaurant on the water where Ivy felt in awe to have never dined despite living in Hartford for three years—but it would only make sense because the last man in her life unfortunately never bothered to take her anywhere, and any and all of her free time she spent picking up shifts at the hospital or enjoying her daughter’s company while she was still young and enjoyed hers, too, Zaia calling Ivy her best friend.

Her little babygirl was her best friend, too, her adorable face one she loved to see each and every day, her precious laughs the reason she’d do anything to make her smile, her favorite Disney Princess dolls and video games why she pushed herself to work and provide a life that made her daughter want for nothing. Ivy felt especially indebted to maintaining the life her daughter deserved now that she was the only parent that could, which is why she wanted to feel guilty about using her PTO to take off this one day. She wanted to feel guilty in general, what with being away from Zaia and with Roman’s fingers gently digging into her hip as he held her close when they stood in the lobby of The Mill, the heat of him and in the fine dining room feeling good as they stood enclosed within rustic brick walls decorated with lantern lighting and pristine, white cloths on the tables. 

However, even Gemini had given her grace when she picked up Zaia and Duchess earlier that day, packing her niece, her overnight bag, and the puppy’s kennel into her Mercedes, Zaia’s favorite video games and Duchess’s favorite toys in tow to keep them busy at her house across town and potentially overnight should Ivy want to enjoy her evening with Roman that long. Ivy was shocked that her best friend cosigned the date night after the earful she gave her earlier in the week, but she knew it was likely because she knew deep down that Ivy deserved a night off, just as Roman had said. Ivy knew she deserved it, too…but that didn’t make the complex knot of feelings settling into her heart as she sat across from him during dessert any easier to deal with.

But something about the way he talked, the way the intelligence he possessed extended beyond his work in finance but into philosophy; the way he made her think about life and death; made her laugh to ease the heft of such a conversation; and made her tremble with the glint in his eyes as the lowlights of the room brought out the warmth in them, the chocolate brown of them, staring at her sweetly as he spooned his crème brûlée into his mouth as she dipped her spoon into hers. She felt that knot try to unwind more and more… 

Maybe the glass of Cabernet with her lobster pasta helped, too, as Ivy didn’t drink often because of Angelo. Yet the glass had to be doing its job as the brief thought of him didn’t cloud her mind as it did before, instead it moved along as Roman’s eyes moved from hers to her lips that she licked at when a bit of custard spilled there. He licked his, too, but there was nothing there as far as she could tell, just the plush pink of them as they smiled at her, looking more alluring than usual in his steel gray suit and black shirt beneath that formed to his muscles. And again…maybe that was because of the wine…or because of how he purred across the table to her in his captivating voice, “I don’t want this night to end after dessert…care to join me for a nightcap at my place?”

“A ‘nightcap?’” Ivy asked back, wiping at her mouth with her napkin as he nodded with a small sip of his water.

“An after-dinner drink. Something sweet, like placin’ the cherry on top of a lovely evening,” Roman responded. The idea lingered in her thoughts for a moment as Ivy realized it’d be the first time she’d step foot in his home…finally seeing more of the man who was both getting closer to her heart but still a mystery to it because that was one thing Gemini had right. She didn’t know Roman as well as she could…but she’d like to...

“Yeah, that sounds nice…just one drink,” Ivy stated. “I don’t wanna be out too late and abandon Gem with my babies.”

“Of course,” Roman agreed. And once he paid for their dinner, escorted her to his Maserati, drove them back to their quiet, lush cul-de-sac where the lights of their neighbors were off in the still of the night, Ivy followed him up to his wraparound porch and inside his house where he flipped on his lights to illuminate the space of his home that opened up to sleek wooden floors and a crystal chandelier as hung just above his staircase off to the right. 

Yet after he took her coat and purse to hang on the hook by his door, he led her to the left into a room where there was a glass dining table with marble legs, a design matching the coffee table she remembered the young movers hauling into his place the day she met him. Roman strolled to the glass bar behind it as he grabbed two crystal whiskey glasses and lifted a well-aged Glengoyne scotch from the many bottles on the shelf, Ivy taking a couple tentative steps behind him as she tried not to gawk at the fine taste he had for décor, like the colorful paintings on his walls of mock Jackson Pollock’s—or maybe they were originals considering his income—and the lavish, sterling silver picture frames on the opposite wall near the window.

Ivy couldn’t help but stare at the woman in those pictures, her deep brown skin the same shade as hers, her wavy hair dark and falling down her back like hers did now as she wore it down tonight, and her small waist and wide curves reminding her of her own as Roman had his arm around them in each photo, his chin on her shoulder or forehead pressed to hers, their engagement pictures from the look of them...and from the look of them, Roman seemed to have a type of a woman he preferred…Ivy found it intriguing.

“She’s gorgeous,” Ivy observed aloud in a soft voice before she looked over her shoulder at Roman coming closer with her drink in his hand. She took it from him with a small sip, the bittersweet cherry flavor warming her chest before she added, “I think it’s nice that you honor her memory like this.”

“She was…and thank you. We can, um, sit in the living room if this makes you uncomfortable,” Roman said almost sheepishly as he stood next to her with his drink hovering near his lips as he waited for her response. 

“No, it’s fine. I’d like to know more about her…if you’re okay with talking about her,” Ivy said and he pulled out a chair at the dining room table for her and sat down facing her, his eyes flitting to his photos again before they landed on Ivy with what looked like gentle relief. 

“Elesha was…an angel. Kind to everyone she met and I mean everyone…even people who didn’t deserve it,” Roman said with a small shake of his head and a smile, making Ivy smile, too. “I think that’s one of the reasons it’s so…difficult…proccessin’ how someone so kind, so full of light like that could be taken away by somethin’ so mean and foul. Liver disease. She didn’t survive the surgery to replace the organ.” Roman’s features became wrought with that grief she knew he was still holding on to, grief she knew all too well herself. 

“She sounds like she was incredible. She didn’t deserve that. Neither did you,” Ivy expressed, her mouth feeling raw with a twinge of fear that she was speaking out of turn. But Roman nodded with a sniffle, tossing back the rest of his scotch like he needed it to singe his throat of the pain welling in it. 

“It’s been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to deal with. Even the move here…I didn’t want to leave our house. I lived alone for about a year. But it’s like…we built that house together, you know? Planned to raise a family together in that house. But without her there…I just couldn’t be there without her.”

She slowly placed her hand on top of his when he rested it on his knee, hoping it would lull him as it did before…but when his eyes looked wet with tears she could tell he was trying not to let fall, she pulled him into a hug with her arms around his neck. Roman nuzzled his nose to her neck as he hugged her back and she felt his warm breath there as he sniffled again when Ivy let her fingers swirl on his back in his suit jacket, drawing those little circles he did on her that felt good, calming, praying it would have the same effect on him. 

And when Roman grasped her closer in the hug, nearly pulling her into his lap as he murmured, “Thank you, Ivy,” she knew he meant it and appreciated her like she appreciated him. Like friends who appreciated each other. Friends who pressed their lips to her neck with those delicate kisses she’d been thinking of but didn’t dare ask for or allow herself to want because it all felt like the wrong timing…but his mouth felt right as it trailed those soft kisses gingerly up her throat, along her jaw, and, at last, on her lips for a tender moment before that gaze of his was on hers, intense and heated as they parted, as he confessed under his breath, “Sorry…I’ve just been wantin’ to do that again. Is that wrong?”

“No…s’okay. I did, too,” Ivy breathed back, the air in her getting stolen by the feel of his fingertips slightly digging into the small of her back, by how she wanted to feel them inch onto her hips and maybe her thighs…

“Yeah?” Roman breathed, too, before he rested his forehead on hers, feeling her quiver under his touch as he traced the seams of her dress down her left hip. “I got the feelin’ there was a line we drew after the last time…a line I didn’t wanna cross with everything that’s happened. But…”

His fingers caressed lower now, finding the bare skin of her thigh where it met the hem of her dress. It was like he could read her mind as Ivy watched him watch her eyelids flutter when he teased a finger towards the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. “But?” she tried not to whimper.

“But…if you want this…I want it, too, beautiful,” Roman whispered before he retracted his hand from her thigh to slip around her throat, the surprise of his sudden yet agile grip forcing that whimper she tried to swallow to tumble out. He inhaled it with another kiss that felt as deep as the curiosity still coiled in her belly, spreading to her core like delicious sin to yearn for someone she shouldn’t yearn for right now. But he tasted just as delicious as his tongue curled on hers, sweet like scotch, as well as his words tasting tempting and sweet as he uttered in a growl, “What do you want, Ivy?”

“You. I…want you,” she replied through his kisses, his mouth consuming hers with a hunger yet a sophisticated deft that gave her just enough to desire more. It was almost like it was on purpose, like he was testing if she meant it, testing his grip on her throat with a little squeeze that made her let out a pitiful moan. 

Pitiful because the comfort she craved felt snug with his hand on her, felt hot like his kisses, felt aching like his voice when he grunted back as he suckled the tip of her tongue…it was comfort like this she couldn’t give to herself, couldn’t get from the last man in her life…

“What do you want from me, darling?” Roman’s strong hands fell to her waist, hoisting her up until she sat on the table before him. He remained seated in his chair as he slowly spread her thighs open, just enough that the black lace of her thong peeked at him from beneath her dress, his palms slowly massaging up her inner thighs with wide thumbs nearing the heat that called to him, telling him exactly what Ivy wanted. She gasped with another whimper when she watched Roman’s head fit between her legs, his lips just as delicate on her skin as they were on her upper body, all of her body trembling in his hands when his eyes drifted up to hers as he demanded after each kiss, “Tell…me…I’m listening.”

Ivy couldn’t remember the last time a man asked her what she wanted and waited with patience for her to respond, let alone make her this damn wet with just his kisses and words as she felt the cling of her thong to her pussy before Roman’s lips dipped there for a kiss over the damp fabric. “I want you to make me feel good,” Ivy moaned the honest truth. She’d gone too long with the bare minimum, the good enough, or the almost there. Years of putting another man before herself because she thought it would make her a better mom but it only made her a bitter woman. She wanted—no, needed more. 

And Roman seemed to understand as his lips grazed at her thong and his thumbs hooked at the strings, moaning back, “Lay back then, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.”

She let herself settle onto her elbows, her mind trying to slosh with a fervid, fuzzy warmth from the nightcap and from Roman as he rolled her thong down her legs, past her heels, and onto his floor before he placed her thighs on his shoulders. The silk of his dark hair swept off his face into his signature bun still felt soft on her skin, as did his beard as he wet it with a kiss that swiftly grew messy from his mouth savoring how she drooled on his tongue that was in no rush to push and flit and thrust and lick and explore the soft folds of her pussy. Ivy wanted to feel ashamed of how her airy moans echoed in the silence of his vast home, but he gave her no reprieve to feel anything but good, so good she couldn’t bother to choke the sound with her hand over her mouth as that hand came down to fondle the back of his head, keep him where his tongue finally curved around the shape of her clit, slow flicks of it widened to make her feel him all over it.

“Taste so fuckin’ good. I knew you would…sweet girl like you,” Roman groaned to her pussy, biting his lip as he looked at her before a mischievous smirk appeared on them. “I think that’s my third or fifth compliment…and you still owe me two.”

“Mmm, fuck,” Ivy bleated instead when he swept his tongue over the pearl of her clit, but he pulled back once more with a cute shake of his head.

“Talk to me nice, baby. Tell me how good I’m eatin’ this pussy,” he commanded, the bass of his voice rolling through her as he held her still in his hands to keep that pussy in his face as he wagged the tip of his tongue along her sweet spot.

“Oh, god…I-I like what you’re doing with your tongue…just like that,” Ivy hissed, her heart pounding in her ears from the rush of sweet blood in her veins as he kept flickering his tongue from side to side.

“One more,” Roman urged her with a sloppy, audible kiss to her pussy that made Ivy want to crawl up the table but his grip on her was tight. She was about to lose her grip on reality as he made her feel unreal…

“You’re gonna make me cum already…Jesus, yesss,” Ivy panted, that heat ever-present between them spiking with the buck of her hips as Roman studied her squirming on the length of his tongue. The look in his handsome, hooded eyes was confident and lethal, like he didn’t need words to tell her to cum for him, letting the ripple of his skilled tongue on her spot and a thick finger carefully nudging inside of her until she clenched around it as he found her other spot do the talking for him. Ivy talked enough for the both of them, anyway, as the heat in her core licked at her like supple flames until she dripped on what had to be the expensive wood finish of his dining room table, fluttering in his mouth as she tried not to shout his name and shouted to heaven how he made her feel. Which felt better than good, better than healing—it felt divine. 

“I—I can’t take anymore. Please,” Ivy whined as her trembling hands in his hair that had been keeping him close tried to push him back. But she felt Roman’s cool breath scatter along her wet warmth with a devious chuckle, his mouth still suckled to her clit before he pulled away with a small slurp for a few seconds.

And only a few seconds when Roman licked at his lips, glossy with her wet, and stroked his finger in her, pulsing until she could only see his knuckle and cried out from the tingle of over-stimulation that tried to make her eyes see the back of her head as he reminded her, “You said you wanted me to make you feel good, right? Well…I’m just gettin’ started,” and brought his mouth back to her.

. . .

The Boy Next Door: Chapter Three

Thanks for reading and thanks again to this anon for the story idea. Your replies and reblogs would be much appreciated if you enjoyed!

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@disc0fairy @prettybitxhnica @mellybandzz @blveeeeeee @taytropicana

@planetch1ld @mayasopinions @tribalchief2112 

@sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @n-o-v-a-caine @sexyblacksimper @paigereeder

@prettyfilmz @li-da-savage @wwecrazed2010 @ashykneee @katrinnnn

@shes2real @aldrigmer444 @kat3457 @rose-bliss @jxtina-86

@that-one-anxious-mango @reci1996 @uceyjuceyy @kiki1704 @questionable-behaviour

@jstarr86 @trentybenty @yana3sworld @wabi-sani1090

@callmekayd @partypoison00 @originalgeezyy @muzaqueendom @naturally-nikkilynn @nessaevans

@thewarlordsworld

[joannasteez]

finally getting to this, and just wanna say this line…”the answer was more than I thought and they all led to that fat unknown ass that he was enthusiastically groping thinking I didn't know anything”… made me laugh lol. for sure a different use of metaphor maybe i think it works so well. sells the frustration and violated feelings sav has.

looking forward to how you develop this. really digging the build and her anxieties surrounding being affiliated with roman. tension is a key yknow? and ur doing lovely not rushing in with it to open the door. (and even if u did, who cares really?, ill still read and enjoy!!!)

Anatomy of an affair II

A/N: second chapter and I think I'll finish this mini series in the next one, but I hope this isn't useless anyway because I really tried to build a particular tension... y'all know what I mean. Once again, dedicated to Aly~

The first lessons had been... an experience, let's say. The classroom was always packed, a crowd just waiting for him as if he was somekind of an event. Throngs of students in the front row hanging on his every speech, giggling and sighing at every word, always waiting at the door as if gaining the best seat and attempting physical assault at the end of the lesson would somehow make the difference or attract his attention. Writing his reports and some notes for myself, I learned that that kind of technique didn't work. Not that I wanted to look for the right one, on the contrary... I tried as much as possible to keep my feet on the ground, my mind clear and my legs closed so as not to reduce myself to those levels.

It was difficult though. The rough sound of his voice as he talked about muscles, bones and organs made it a challenge to focus, especially now that he was starting to get serious with lessons and I had to work hard so as not to end up like most of those desperate people who now couldn't find the show so entertaining anymore. My eyes constantly fixed on his muscles and organs, a perfect example of what a man should have been like in anyone's dreams, as if mother nature had taken special care of him to teach ordinary mortals. It was probably my unconscious seeing him like this in search of my well-deserved revenge on Tobert or maybe it was some kind of psychological test of my twisted mind to prove my dedication was stronger than temptations, but sooner or later would have been time for a real test and along with it, the others I still had to finish preparing for.

I was close going crazy, I knew it and with a sigh I ran a hand over my face, checking my phone to understand what would occupy my only hour of break that day. Lunch was already taken, but not by my meal and as if I had summoned him, Professor Reigns appeared in front of me again, almost making my phone fly out of my hand. I suffered from PTSD after our first face off and I had the impression he liked it.

- “So?” – he asked, with an amused smile, seeing me immediately get back on my feet like a soldier.

He absolutely liked it.

My mouth opened without a sound, unable to form even a silent insult, but as soon as my synapses began to do their job again I understood. The lesson, he was talking about the lesson. He wanted the report and didn't care what I was doing with my phone or my life. Of course.

- “It was... intense” – I admitted, seeing him listen carefully – “I think more than a few people got lost towards the middle now that we’re going deeper. There are already requests for more information, should be the same topics I wrote down during the lesson, I have the note here...” - I started rummaging in my bag looking for the notebook in which I had taken them, realizing with a silent curse that it was identical to the others that I constantly dragged with me to study everywhere.

- “It's here somewhere... just a moment, it's right here” – I apologized, already feeling anxiety increase as seconds passed and he waited, looking at me in silence.

I hadn't lost it, I couldn't have lost it, I had put everything back in my bag leaving the room empty, I had been very meticulous, but what if it had happened? Was it a possibility? If I forgot a notebook I could forget a gauze during an operation, a doctor could never be so absent in them mind!

- “Here” – he interrupted me, ignoring my search to hand me one of the cups he had in his hand.

I took it quickly, trying to continue with my free hand, but he stopped me, shaking his head, lifting my chin with a finger. The sensation, however quick and innocent, paralyzed me and I looked at him with wide eyes as he pointed the matcha he had passed me.

- “We’ll take care of your notes later, drink now” – he ordered more seriously this time and if my eyes were wide open before, they must surely have rolled out now, like in one of those cartoons I watched in Tobert's living room when we were both kids.

- “Me?!”

- “I'm a big guy but two is too much even for me” – and yes, he was right, but I still couldn't believe that he had bought something for me.

None of the professors I knew, not even the ones I was close with, had ever offered me anything. Usually it was students who did it, a show of respect, the opposite was strange, it couldn't happen... or could it? He had done it and he was acting like it was no big deal. Maybe he felt obligated because it was almost lunch time and he had asked me to stay longer, hadn't I seemed happy? Had I made a bad impression?

Trying to regain myself, I followed him as he headed down the avenue that led to the residential area of the campus.

- “It wasn't necessary, I could have taken it myself if”-

- “Tea is a natural cortisol inhibitor and you should keep your levels low.”

I had to keep what low? Jesus, I wasn't sleeping well and I had so many thoughts on my mind but was I really in such bad shape he suspected I was unwell?! I looked at myself in the mirror that morning, I wasn't so horrible, I had also put on a cute new jacket.

- “It’s some kind of dyagnosis”

- “It's a lesson. You are used to doing multiple things at the same time, but add the load of studying and unnecessary activities, it means more stress on a daily basis and when the brain detects a stressful situation the HPA axis is activated, releasing cortisol. High levels of cortisol for long periods of time risk damaging the brain, changing its anatomy in some cases. Drink it, it can become a good habit” – he explained and my stomach did a flip.

I wasn't a kid anymore, but I had been taking care of myself for so long I wasn't prepared for that kind of attention. I had always taken my responsibilities seriously and he had noticed my efforts after just a month of working together, he had noticed what I did even outside of the tasks he entrusted to me. Tobert had never noticed anything, I could have been sick and he would have only noticed if I threw up on his shoes, for the shoes obviously, not for me. Yep, it was a strange comparison and had nothing to do with it, we didn't have that relationship, we didn't have a relationship, but it didn't change the fact he had been attentive to me.

- “... thanks sir” - I murmured, unable to formulate anything else, overwhelmed by a sudden sense of embarrassment and he smiled one of those absolutely inappropriate smiles, watching me suck from the straw to hide my lack of words.

- “You must be in a good shape” – his comment almost made me choke, but he didn't seem to notice, walking unbothered under the yellowing trees of the campus with his takeaway.

He hadn't said it in that sense, there was no sense, what on earth should I have been in shape for if not to work?! I just had to stop thinking and follow him. Yes, I had to, but I didn't know where and I was only realizing it now. In fact accepting without knowing what I was getting myself into, it was becoming a dangerous habit with him.

- “Where we going? The next meeting will take place this afternoon” – I remembered, trying to play it cool.

I was sure of it because I had checked before joining him in the morning, so as to know when he would be free and consequently I should be free too, but he had blocked me as soon as the lesson was over, while we were still in the classroom.

- “My apartment” – I heard him reply with his usual nonchalance.

The sound I made in response wasn't a word, it wasn't even a noise, I didn't even know what it was, but I started drinking my matcha again like my life depended on it because I definitely needed to lower my stress levels now.

***

The apartment the university had provided for Professor Reigns was nowhere near the dorms and had nothing to do with mine, in comparison I was paying for a stable to share. It was an big apartment, a real one, furnished and with all possible comforts, it had its own private parking space and a delightful view of the central building with its characteristic bricks and avenues. It gave the impression of a movie location, especially because despite being used by a man it didn't seem to be. It was tidy, clean, impeccable just like its current owner, there were even carpets. Professor Reigns had given me a copy of the key, so I could use his house instead of the office that was constantly besieged by students and once I had overcome the anxiety of being in his most private space, I was grateful to finally be able to study and work for him without risking collapse between lessons or unpleasant looks from other students.

With my laptop open and the last notes for the test I would have on monday in my hands, I heard the front door open and after a while I saw him emerge, his hand already scratching the beard that was starting to turn salt and pepper, in that gesture I had learned to decipher. He was incredibly dutiful, but seemed to have a limited social battery and quickly became disinterested in matters that were not indispensable or fundamental to him.

- “Something wrong?” – I asked, watching him take off his jacket to make himself more comfortable and go directly to get some coffee in the kitchen.

- “We have to review my agenda next week, some appointments are not really necessary and take up time from the research project for the course” – he explained and I hid my smirk, nodding with my head down.

Oh yes, that battery ran out quickly and he didn't even bother to recharge it. It was crazy how he was gifted with everything that attracted attention, but he didn't care. There were men who would have given anything to have a position like his and that kind of success in every field, when instead he kept his distance.

- “Chemistry?” – he asked, glancing at my notes.

- “I had answered all the emails and the outline for the next lesson is ready. I made a copy, it's in the other room along with the preliminary test drafts” – I replied quickly, closing the laptop, while he sat down with a sigh.

- “Stop making excuses Savannah, I told you to do it this way and you're doing it. It works, right?”

- “Yep… it's more comfortable than the office” – I nodded, seeing him mutter a "good" before silence fell.

I had been working as his assistant for a month now, trying to make the most of the opportunity he had given me, but I still hadn't been able to talk to him about why it all started and why I kept making excuses, even though he always seemed more likely to tease me than make me pay for something. I had prepared for that discussion, reciting it in front of the mirror, to my roommate, I knew what to say, in the beginning it had been the only reason why I had gone looking for him and yes, maybe now I could have pretended nothing had happened because we seemed to work well together, but I already had another pending conversation with Tobert and that was enough. I needed to get another man off my shoulders and another thought out of my head.

- “Professor” - I started, but he stopped me immediately.

- “Roman. At least when we're alone. I'm not a professor, I told you.”

Roman?! I tried to start a conversation that was difficult for me and he cut me off by demanding I call him by his government name?! It was a joke. As if I could ever talk to him with enough confidence to reach those levels! Yes, we weren't that far apart in age, I was sitting in his living room minding my own business, after the agreed time, while he was there sipping coffee in that decidedly too tight shirt and staring at me, but he was still a professor, a famous doctor. It was very clear in my mind whenever other thoughts crossed my mind: don’t push the boundaries.

- “I don’t think I”-

- “I do.”

Speechless, I watched him put down his coffee, those eyes that I struggled to get used to focused on me without the slightest intention of giving in, with the expectation of actually seeing me do it.

It was inappropriate. We didn't have that relationship, we couldn't, it was forbidden by university rules. I thought, I hadn't checked and I wouldn't, it had to be and even if it wasn't, my mama had raised me well. She had taught me to be respectful, not to put myself in unseemly situations, and calling him by his name seemed like the kind of thing that would push me over boundaries. Yet the idea of not doing what he told me, with his full attention, made me lower my head and nod.

I was thinking too much, he wasn't asking for intimacy, he probably just wanted some normality and I instead needed to focus on what I had to say to him to make things right.

- “I still haven't apologized for what happened the day we met” - I started again – “I... I didn't want to sound rude, Im sorry, my mind was somewhere else and I didn't realize I was actually there and not alone.”

I wasn't that kind of person, I didn’t like myself people who always made a scene, but Tobert had hurt me without even caring, I felt so humiliated and offended that I freak out. I still couldn't tolerate the thought of having wasted so much time on someone who after a month didn't understand I knew and kept acting as if nothing had happened. But I was trying to move forward, I was dedicating time to myself and not wasting it.

Something in the way Professor Reigns, Roman... looked at me seemed to change and I saw him tilt his head to look at me, thankfully without a trace of resentment to me.

- “It was quite obvious” – he commented at the end, almost with understanding and although I could finally have sighed with relief, I nodded, sucking my teeth before speaking.

- “I could have avoided it. It wasn't worth it” – I said, pressing the pen I was holding in my hand with annoyance.

Wasting tears on a boy – he wasn't even a man with his little shrimp between his legs – like that had been an insult to myself that I regretted terribly. I had known Tobert forever and yes, I had feelings for him, but he had never been perfect, not even close to being perfect, me more than anyone knew that. It was like adopting an ugly stray dog that you become attached to. The amount of stupid things he did or got involved in was unquantifiable and he hadn't mentally grown a day since we were sixteen. I couldn't continue to close my eyes, pretend I still didn't see like his mama, if after having put my future at risk to support him, he was now also disrespecting me sticking his little thing in every available hole instead of building a life together. The asshole would have paid me with interest, I would have made him miserable. I just had to figure out how.

- “You need help?” – Professor Reigns asked and I straightened my head, for a moment fearing I had spoken out loud, but he pointed to the notes in front of me with amusement.

- “Oh, no, absolutely not, I can do it by myself, in fact it's better if I go” – I hurried, recovering everything I had scattered around while he was away.

It was already enough to witness the process of him creating his lessons and preview his notes, I couldn't stay there and use him as a personal tutor when the week was already over. Plus it was also getting late and it was best to avoid staying until the evening, people loved talking about everything and he seemed to be one of the favorite topics for a good portion of the students on campus.

In silence, feeling his eyes on me, I put everything in my bag as quickly as I could to meet his gaze just before leaving.

- “See you next week then Sav” – he greeted me.

- “Have a nice weekend.”

***

After days Tobert decided to make himself heard. Our circus was doing great, it was actually the third time he had called me in a month and he had had the courage to ask me if I was thinking of coming back in the next weekend. As if I were rich or had someone to see again in that shitty city! But I knew why he was asking, unlike him I had a brain whose cognitive functions did their duty and by imposing calm to myself, knowing what I was up against, I had hit social media as soon as our unforgettable three-minute conversation was over. I obviously hadn't found any trace of abandonment syndrome symptoms on his pages, but another video had showed up, this time on the page of one of his coworkers who I had also known for years. A new butt in the background, the umpteenth night and I had started writing my confession to the police for when I’ll dissected him, I was ready to take my credit.

Taking me out to calm down – or more likely distract me from murder – had been my roommate's idea, but between tequila, spicy food and cocktails it had been inevitable and both Mya and my friend Shanice had joined, watching endlessly the new video sitting at the table of one of the many clubs under the Memorial Bridge.

- “You could wait and say no to him at the wedding” – Mya proposed, cleaning her fingers from the loaded fries with which we had tried to buffer the effects of the alcohol.

- “As much as I'm sure you'd be able to wait that long, he'd have to propose first and I don't think that'll happen if he acts like this” - Shanice echoed, shaking her head in disgust at the sight of Tobert enjoying himself without a single thought in his mind.

The proposal. I had never imagined such a moment, I was more practical than romantic, but I had always taken it for granted it would happen, sooner or later, because what other alternatives could we have after all those years together? The answer was more than I thought and they all led to that fat unknown ass that he was enthusiastically groping thinking I didn't know anything.

- “He's too miserable to afford a ring” – I reflected, downing yet another shot of tequila like it was water and both Shanice and Mya looked at me.

- “Damn Sav…”

- “Yep, maybe it's better stop drinking and watch it. Eats, is gonna help”

It wasn't the alcohol that made me talk, I was simply disgusted. There had been a moment, however brief, when I thought maybe I should give him a second chance, be the bigger person once again, for all the years we had spent together. The first kiss, the first time, I gave him everything, but that stupid asshole forgot everything as soon as I loosened the leash, to drool over a bunch of total strangers who wouldn't even answer the phone in a moment of crisis and certainly didn't know him like I did.

- “Is that…” - I heard Mya call me, pulling me by the shoulder and I turned to look, choking.

- “Why is he here?!” – I asked, staring shocked at the bar counter, where Professor Reigns was discussing with a group of friends.

With a beer in hand and a less serious outfit he didn't look like a professor at all, but rather the kind of trouble most women would look for, the red flag you hope for. He was smiling, joking, in the yellowish light of the place, with music and voices filling the room, I watched him captivated as he emptied the rest of his beer, those hands capable of feats in the medical field tightly wrapped around the bottle, his throat in sight, his dark beard. I felt like I could smell him even from where I was sitting, no chemicals perfumes, just the smell of him and it was a strange sensation that made my body tingle. I shouldn't have dwelled on certain details, I shouldn't have noticed them, but he attracted my attention like a magnet.

- “Well, he has a life outside of university, busy one too it seems” – Shanice noticed, eyeing him without the slightest discretion and she wasn't the only one.

We had only noticed him now, but he certainly hadn't escaped the eyes of the other women in the club. A couple of them sitting not far away continued to stare at him and chatter, probably waiting to meet his gaze for their silent invitation. I knew the moves well, I saw them every day in class and when we walked across campus together, more or less brazen attempts to which he didn't even react, almost as if he didn't see. And maybe it was like that or maybe he didn't stoop to pay attention to anyone because he was already taken, I had never suspected anything since I worked as his assistant, but a man like that had to be taken. He was the kind who would never stay on the market with that perfect body and a successful career.

- “You know, he could be your solution” – Mya mused, sipping her cocktail with a thoughtful face.

- “I know, that's why I keep working as his assistant.”

- “So you can smash him?”

- “What?!” – I almost screamed – “No! I was talking about exams! He can help me with my goals!”

- “Nah, stop it, you'll pass them anyway, your goal at the moment is to make that asshole of your boyfriend, ex or whatever he’s, pay and you could get revenge riding him. Mya is right. Sex helps with a lot of problems”

- “He’s a professor, my professor, a well-known doctor and Im his assistant.”

Hello?! Was it just me who noticed and had a problem with it? It wasn't something to do! It couldn't be! They shouldn't have suggested it to me!

- “More practical, no one will find out. You said sometimes you two worked in his apartment to.”

- “He gave her a copy of the key.”

- “Uh! Yeah!”

I had worked and saw his living room, nothing more and they knew it, I had told them!

… and also his kitchen, for coffee yes. And the bathroom, I went there too, but I spent hours in his house working, I had to use it sooner or later! But nothing more! I would never have dared, I was even careful no one saw me going in and out of there at inconvenient times.

- “It's on the campus, inside the university, y’all can’t be serious?!” – they couldn't make me think certain things, they had to support me, help me, not create bigger problems.

- “I would do it”

- “Same here. It's such a good idea!”

- “I mean, why not?! You get it?”

- “If not her someone else, take the opportunity sis!”

- “Louder!”

- “Ok, good, I've heard enough” – I silenced them, getting up and leaving my money on the table.

The weekend was already testing me enough, I couldn't stay there a second longer and put other ideas in my head, there were already enough of those on a daily basis and that I had to keep at bay without having received yet another delusion or getting drunk.

- “What? Where you going? Come on, Sav! Get over here” – Mya tried to stop me, but I had already taken my bag and jacket.

- “I'll take an uber, see you at home” – I said goodbye, taking my way out of the club.

- “Don't you dare start studying again!”

- “And don't open IG!”

I was no longer listening to their recommendations, too busy with my phone to understand how soon I would have a car to go back. In that part of the city there were many clubs, it was very busy, but to my series of bad luck was added the only uber available was fifteen minutes away from me and resignedly I tightened my jacket once outside, peering across the road, where I could see the bridge and the skyline over the dark sea.

This night had only served to give me other thoughts and certainly hadn't helped distract me from what Tobert had done, again. Part of me knew that if I didn't do something soon I would go crazy, every revenge deserved a plan to get some justice and satisfaction back, but I needed to explode, to punish him immediately for the wasted years and humiliation. Knowing he was out there doing what he wanted, thinking I was so stupid to don’t understand or find out, filled me with frustration. I was better than him and would probably be even better if I hadn't spent my entire life babysitting him, how could he even conceive of treating me like this? Me?! And with all due respect, for someone who seemed like the cheap experiment of a pervert who had never left home!

- “I thought you had an exam on Monday” – the tone scared me to death and I turned quickly, discovering I was no longer alone.

- “Professor!”

- “Roman” – he corrected me.

- “Yep… I have it, it wasn't a lie” – I hurried to explain and immediately bit my tongue.

I was justifying myself. In a very bad way too, I wasn't even credible and it was frustrating because it was clear I could have avoided it since being off campus wasn't a crime.

- “Breathe, you’re always so tense” – he suggested to me, his voice calm, low, so reliable.

Gripping my phone, I nodded, avoiding his gaze as silence fell between us and his words echoed in my head. I had the feeling the alcohol in my body had suddenly decided to make itself felt now he was there next to me, a mixture of anxiety and heat that went from my neck down to my chest, my belly and lower, made me feel vulnerable and certainly the conversation with my friends before leaving didn’t help. I hadn't thought about meeting someone I knew, I hadn't thought about seeing him or talking to him, I was just trying to get home as quickly as possible and try to sleep with one or better two pills to keep me out of trouble. My fifteen minutes of waiting, however, were becoming an eternity and my eyes went to the blank screen, a gesture he obviously noticed immediately. He noticed everything, always.

- “Are you waiting someone?” – he asked, checking the road.

I was far from home, on the verge of exhaustion, there was no one waiting for me. Just hours of studying and too many thoughts... maybe Shanice and Mya were partly right, it would have helped me distract myself with someone, but I had too much dignity to risk picking up another idiot, a life with Tobert had made me almost completely insensitive to men. Almost.

- “I wanted to go back to the dormitory” – I explained and he turned around again.

- “That's not the answer to my question” – his tone was more peremptory this time and I looked at his tense jawline.

We had gone from not having to give excuses to explaining why I was there with my phone without even noticing and the way he was standing in front of me was making me wish for more tequila in my body.

- “Im waiting my uber. It’ll be here soon” - I said, unable to look away now.

He was an exception. He wasn't one of the many idiots inside a club. He was a grown man, with a successful career, goals similar to mine, plans for the future. I knew all that glitters wasn't gold, I could see it in his brown eyes, in his dangerous smiles, in the way he seemed to capture everyone who walked by him into his orbit, but it was the kind of risk someone would even seek. And he was fascinating, so damn perfect he made the air between us and my legs tremble.

- “I'll give you a ride. My car is there, cmon”

Something in my head told me to accept immediately, a part of me even cheered at his words, the impulse that during lessons made it difficult for me to take notes and filled my mind when we were alone with thoughts I had never had for anyone else. My friends would have pushed me without even thinking about it and the alcohol was playing its part, but I still shook my head no, looking up at him from the distance that separated us in a weak attempt to resist and remind myself, him, there were boundaries I shouldn't have crossed.

He was my professor, he could have become my mentor, I would have gotten into trouble.

- “I can wait here” – I tried, but my words didn't seem to reach him.

- “I won't let you go with a stranger, get in my car Sav” – he decided for me, without listening any replies, taking a step in the direction of the street before looking back at me.

For a moment, I clutched my phone, praying for something, for someone, anyone, to interrupt whatever was going on between us, but it might have been fifteen or thirty minutes, nothing happened and I moved numbly, following him with my heart racing and sure I was about to do something I never imagined.

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyyaanna @expert-texpert @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @claymorexpunisher @keybladeofsteel @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @darqchilddaydreamz @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @joannasteez @reignsx @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @333creolelady @snowpanda18 @brattyfics @mzv11 @romanreignseater @dreamsinfocus @vebner37 @depressedneedingrevenge @cyberdejos2 @mahi-wayy @jxtina-86 @harmshake @southerngirl41 @smile1318 @headoftheetable @sortudademais @wrestlingprincess80

[333creolelady]

Lady Of The Blue Bakunawa Ch.8

Roman Reigns (Pirate) X Black Afab! OC

Warnings: Mentions of su*c*dal ideation, use of the word Su*c*de, Death of animal, Gore, Cursing, Water accidents, Scary creatures, Angst (with fluff). Paranoia. This is a lengthy one guys.

Official Story Playlist link Here

Alternative Playlist link Here

Chapter 7 <-

Next chapter : Chapter 9 ->

Official story PL songs this chapter: Igloo, Will you help me, Going in, The sixth station, Too close, The Legend of Ashitaka

Alternative songs this chapter: Slow life, St Jude, Nothing but trouble, Time, Nice Dream, Motion picture soundtrack, Suzanne

Cover by: @joannasteez

Tags for those who asked about new chapter: @2-muchsauce @sortudademais @joannasteez

Roman POV

Roman sat on the Cabin floor watching Jane sleep in his arms while wearing her soaking wet clothes. His fingers brushed the sides of her face as he recalls the day he met her. It was much like this but in somewhat different circumstances. He could only describe this place as the feeling of being in a dream. Disconnected from his body, perhaps floating above it but still present. Tunnel visioned.

He remembers the feel of her heart racing against his flesh as they stared at the Dragon head on. Facing one’s own mortality was a humbling experience. He was as terrified as she was. He found no point in trying to avoid what would happen. All he could do was accept their ending. At least he would meet his end holding the woman he loved. Had he been alone, he wasn’t so sure if he would have accepted his fate so easily.But to have death graze his flesh and beckon him forward? To feel his soul bend, twist,and tear from his flesh. To feel the crash of the boat, the frigid water, the splintered wood. To feel the terror and the despair. It was simply unimaginable.

Through it all, he blanketed himself around her the best way he could. Reality bent around them. Screams of terror echoed in the gut of the beast. Her fingers clung to him and his to hers. They flipped, spinned, whirled, and were ultimately swallowed and submerged. And then…they were spat out into what could only be described as uncharted land.

It would seem as though this place was not of the world. It was foreign, alien, different. From what he could see out of the window, even the sand was a different color from what he was used to.

Some of his comrades woke up laying outside of the ship on the sand bed, others were still inside of the splintered ship. Jane and Himself ended up on the cabin floor, him at the door and her in the back of the room. He crawled towards her, ignoring the calls for him in the distance. He hadn’t moved a muscle and wouldn’t until he saw the light come back into her eyes again.

As she slept peacefully, her key was warm and glowing. He suspected that the dragon spared them because of that key. However, as long as she wore it, her life would be in danger. Her body was littered with bleeding scratches and deep purple bruises. His skin suffered the same fate. It felt like the boat itself had been ripped apart and then miraculously put back together.

An unrecognizable sense of gratitude washed over him when he saw her in their room, banged up but unscathed. To know that she had been spared. To know that he will feel his mouth on hers again, he will hear her voice, see her smile, feel her skin. Gratitude…sheer gratitude to be alive. Grateful to feel the heart beating in his chest, to hear waves crashing, to feel the dampness of his clothes. Grateful to be alive. Grateful to know the story didn’t end here. That they still had time. Yet, he was fearful of something that he could not place.

He could only surmise it as the fear of God. The same fear of God that many people around him possessed that he didn't quite understand before.. He never feared death. He didn’t have a particular God that he believed in or a religion he subscribed to. But some force…be it the Dragon, Universe, or something else entirely…spared him. He was spared and it was riveting and terrifying. Terrifying to be acquainted with the Black, quiet, stillness of Death and to be pulled out of it in an instant — reborn like a child.

Jane woke with a gasp calling his name, “ Roman…Roman ”, she rasped. The salt had burned her throat. His name was the first word she spoke after such a horrific thing. Almost as if her thoughts of him hadn’t stopped in her slumber.

“ You’re alive. We’re alive Jane”, he whispered in the crook of her neck.

“ Are you…are you sure ?”, she sniffled. He hummed against her cheek, pressing soft kisses to it.

Roman shrugs.“ The universe knew I promised you that ice cream ”, he chuckled. A cautious smile spread over her face as she finally opened her eyes. She cracked them open, blinking slowly to adjust to the light of the room. Her brown orbs looked around the cabin and then finally they focused on him, her pupils dilating in size when she saw his face. She smiled sweetly at him and him at her.

He could see that same gratitude on her face as well. “ I’m happy to be alive”, she whispered softly, closing her eyes again. And knowing what he knew now about Jane, that wasn’t always the case. He grateful for it.

“ I’m happy to be alive with you”, he said quietly. He pulls him to her with ease, and places her in his lap. They embrace in a comfortable silence. She pulled away holding his face..“ What will we do? Where are we? How will we get out of here ?”

“ I’m not sure.I don’t know. We still have a map. The compass is spinning on itself constantly. I don’t know if we’re actually anywhere …?”, said Roman. His face mirrored the same confusion as her own.

“ What do you mean ?”

“ I mean…I don’t think we’re in a place that’s to be considered…Worldly. ”

“ Worldy..”, she tried the words on her lips.

“ Yes…do you remember what happened ?”

“ I remember feeling like I was falling and now I'm here.”

“ The Dragon…?”, he hinted. Her eyes widened in terror thinking back to that fateful night on the boat. He adds, “ I don’t think we’re in some distant ocean anymore Jane. I think we’re inside the Dragon.”

A peculiar questioning look danced on her face as if she was not entirely convinced. She went to stand and Roman followed suit. She looked around the drenched cabin, looking at the ruined items.

“ If we get out of here, what I buy for you will pale in comparison to what you own now. Don’t worry, Dove.”

“ It’s not just my things Roman…yours too. All of it. All our belongings. Things that cannot be replaced.”

He looks at his soaked booked collection with pages ripped out. The room resembled the aftermath of a poltergeist “ Were alive…it’s all that matters. We will have more memories to make.”

“Not if we can’t leave this place”, she warned.

A voice calls out in the distance. “ Is she awake ??!”

The two walk out of the cabin to see Caden standing outside with a worried look. He rushes to inspect her. “ Are you alright ?? You were the last to wake up.”

“ I’m okay. No worries”, she urged, squeezing his hand in reassurance. Other voices call to for Roman’s attention.

“ Cap!!!!!’ “

“ Captain! “

“ Cap’n!”

Jane POV

Jane looked at him knowingly, not minding that he was clearly needed by his crew. He looks at her hesitantly.. a look that says “are you sure you’re okay?”. She smiles knowingly and nudges his arm in approval. He kisses her temple and heads back down to the sand to assist his men.

“ How long has it been?”, she asks Caden.

“ We’ve been here since the Sun was the highest. We are a couple hours from sunset I believe.”

“ That’s no good. It will get cold fast”, she warned

“ A couple of the men are in the tree line trying to find some dry wood to burn. We’ve found a few pieces.”

“ Was any food salvaged?”

“ Half of the jarred items. We don’t have enough food to last us on the way back. Maybe 2-3 months if we spread out the meals.”

“ We’ll have to live off the sea if it comes to it. Do we have any fresh water left ?”

“ No, it was lost to the sea. We’ve found a tree bearing fruit with water however”

“ Coconut. It will hold us over here but it won’t last if find a way to journey back. Rainwater will have to do but don’t drink it fresh– lest it turn your stomach. Boil it first”

“ Aye”, Caden leaves her to spread the word to the other members of the ship.

Worry fills her gut. Even if they live off the land and survive here for a few months, they won’t be able to survive the journey back without clean water. Their only hope was Roman—who’s descended from people who lived off the land for centuries. She overheard him explaining which plants were poisonous and which weren’t. He’d already known which fish were the best to eat ..which was helpful. However his memory failed him at times because of how long he’d been removed from his home. Two months without food was difficult but survivable. Without water however? Impending Death. The ship needed repairs that could take months to actually finish. This situation was impossible. Was the treasure really worth it if they wouldn’t live long enough to see use it ?

Instead of mentally spiraling she decides to start collecting personal items and mementos from the shore, sorting them into a large pile. She sees Roman in the distance talking with such conviction and frustration. Everybody looked so tired. Perhaps being reunited with their photos and personal belongings would bring them back some cheer.

She focused on her task until nightfall. Some of the men were able to find some dried wood behind the tree line and made a sizable bonfire. Everybody gathered around it. She walked through the crowd trying to find her love. Roman was on the opposite side, adding more wood to the flame. The heaviness of his eyes subsided when he saw her. She rushed over to his side, gluing herself to it like a second skin. She could feel his muscles relax as he wrapped his free hand around her waist. Things were bad but with him near…it was all manageable. She’d never felt that way about anyone before. “ Hungry?” He asks her. She nods.

One thing about living on the sea, every man had experience with fishing. Tonight they found a plethora of sea creatures to eat. Fish, crabs, muscles, a few lobsters, and even a baby squid. They pushed everything on sticks and broiled it over the fire before tearing it away with their teeth. Everyone was so hungry that barely anyone spoke but a few words during dinner. Too sun drunk and hungry to care about anything.

Roman fed her pieces of raw fish…the safe ones of course. She only really agreed to it because it was an excuse to feel his fingers in her mouth. She bit him playfully during the bigger bites which made him twitch away before his eyes darkened.

“ Oh how lucky you are that we have no room to ourselves”, he warned quietly. She chuckled quietly.Coming so close to death and being stranded had changed her feelings about many things. She smiled knowingly. If they made it out of this…the things she would let him do…

Her mind turned back to their current issue at hand. Food. Water. Fire. Boat. Treasure— in no order.

“ Do we have a plan?”, Caleb asked out loud. The men chewed in deep thought.

“ I’ve heard stories that the pirate who finds the treasure gets three wishes. Maybe if we find that treasure we can find a way to get out of here sooner and put an end to all of this ?”, said Cortez.

“ But there’s no way to know for sure. What if we make it there and there is no wish?”, asked Adhar.

“ What do we have left to lose at this point? We’ve already lost everything?”, Said Rory.

“ We have the coconuts and we’ll collect the rainwater. Everybody here can miss a meal… we’ll be okay but we must have the water. The seafood is plentiful..we can eat that along with our rations that we salvaged. I know a few plants that are edible. We can keep searching the forest for fruit”, Roman suggested.

“ What if it doesn’t rain and we run out of coconuts ? And what about the boat?”, said Jane.

“ We can rebuild a boat using the scraps we find. There is plenty of plank wood here from other ship wrecks. If it comes to it we’ll try to start this from scratch”, Said Roman.

Jane winced. “ I don’t know…that could take months.”

“ The time will pass anyway. Everyone is stable for now. We’ve got food and water. All that’s left to do is find that treasure and figure out how to use it to our advantage”, Roman urged.

“ Captain is right. We don’t have much else to lose”, Caden agreed.

Adhar spoke up. “ So when do we go?”,

“ Dawn. We all need rest first”, said Roman.

“ I volunteer my services Cap’n”, Said Rory.

“ As do I”, said William

“ And me.. Obviously ”, says Adhar.

“ And I”, Jane squeezes Roman’s hand reassuringly. She can already see the protest etching itself across Roman’s face. “ Remember..what you promised me.”

Roman sighs in frustration. “ I know…but this is more dangerous Jane. We don’t know what could come from this. There could be dangerous animals…poisonous insects. We don’t know what we’re up against.”

“ You feel it..I feel it. Remember ? We do this together. Besides, I have the key. The creature said I can’t take it off unless I open the treasure. I was meant to be by your side for this”, Jane pleads.

Roman looks at her in deep thought, “ I just want to protect you…”, he whispers quietly to her.

“ I know you do. You’ve done the best you can. I can’t ask for a better…”, the words fall short of her lips.

Roman’s brows furrow playfully. “A …Better ?”, he chuckled, wondering what she would say. She didn’t squirm or shy away from his teasing.

“ A better…. Match”, she muttered softly looking down at her half empty coconut.

“ That most certainly works”, he smiled, pouring the rest of his coconut water into her shell.

The rest of the night was filled with strategizing, the occasional chuckle thanks to Rory, and more eating. Rest followed and it came swiftly.

Roman POV

He was up before the sun, stomping out the weak flames left from the bonfire. He checks his map once, twice, thrice. His stomach was turning with an unexplainable anxiousness. This treasure would determine if everything was worth it.

If he was a better man he would say that finding Jane was the real treasure and to some degree it was. She came into his life and filled it with unimaginable joy. However, now the goal post has moved. It was his duty to make sure that the rest of Jane’s life was spent in comfort. Those riches were no longer his the moment his eyes laid on her and deep down he knew that. She was his greatest weakness and rarest Jewel now. It's said that pirates do not have a weakness for women. The sea was their betrothed, rum was their mistress, a good woman was a small vacation. Jane became an all encompassing paradise even at a time like this.

William awakened next, helping him sharpen blades and swords. Crossbows were prepared, Meat rations organized, Coconut water collected. Extra pairs of shoes and clothes were salvaged. After a brief meeting on the terms and conditions of this journey with his men, he was ready. Roman wakes Jane last and she’s quick to come to her senses, readying herself and her hair for the long journey ahead. He laces her boots for her when she’s done. Her fingers comb through his hair as he takes care of her. He noticed he enjoyed being in servitude to her above all else.

As the sun broke the horizon they headed off into the bushes. Roman was first in line and Jane was immediately behind him. He swatted their path with a machete, sinking deeper into an alien jungle with sounds they’ve never quite heard before.

In all the books he’s read about pirates and treasure, they never seem to emphasize just how much the walk winds you before anything else. 5 miles in heat with patches of sunlight peeking through at just the right moments to singe the skin. Biting gnats, snakes, loud fucking birds screeching every moment of the goddamned day. Breathing feels like being under a blanket. The humidity is dizzying. This part may very well be worse than the boat wreck.

“ Break… please for the love of god”, William groaned.

“ Alright. We’ll stop here until the sun gives some reprieve—Jane”, Roman beckons her to him and hands her some coconut water that he collected in a canister. She takes it gratefully.

“ Not to sound like a wuss but this might as well be soup”, Adhar sighed.

“ Better than nothing”, Jane laughed.

“ I’ll drink to that”, William chuckled

The group set down their bags and supplies to take a much needed rest. Roman checked his compass and it continued spinning just like it had on the boat. He looked at it questionably and put it back into his pocket. Jane caught his expression, sharing the same worried look.

“This was certainly not how I pictured it. Nothing like the rumors I’ve heard”, Rory spoke up.

“And what have you heard ?”, says Jane.

“Myth says that the place that holds the treasure is full of diversions and tricks of the eye”, said Rory.

“Ay… they say that entire crews slaughtered themselves from sheer paranoia”, Cortez warns.

“ Umm, you didn’t think that would have been a helpful piece of information to mention before we’re miles into the jungle”, Jane scoffed.

“ You all forget that many of the rumors that we’ve heard have not been true. Few have held up to their gossip. There is no need to worry yet”, Roman interjects.

“ And if it is?”, says Jane.

Roman’s tone is flippant now. “I’ll cut any tongue that rises against you”.

Jane’s brow raises in suspicion. “Even your own?”

“Especially my own”, Roman smirked.

A mischievous look appears on Jane’s face. “Spare it for me. I’ve grown fond of it.”

Noises of gagging and disgust roll across the group like school children. Jane laughs.

“ Alright you love birds. What we really need to be worried about is what god forsaken creatures lurk in the night “, Adhar warns.

“ Indeed. I’ve heard noises out of nightmares seep from the tree line when we were on the beach. They sound rather large”, says Cortez.

Roman scoffs “ We have enough knives and gunpowder in our inventory to turn whatever that is into beef tartar as far as i'm concerned. Instead of worrying about what’s to come, why don’t you all shut your mouths and preserve your breath. You’re going to need it”, Roman dismissed the crew. Jane playfully saluted him with an “Aye Aye Captain” gesture which he secretly found amusing.

And they indeed needed it. When the sun hid behind the trees they set foot towards the center of the island. The descent was hilly and rocky, requiring core muscles and quick recovery. And then suddenly the terrain changed from a vast jungle to damp, humid, and muddy. Adhar fell on his bottom and the others followed suit eventually. Roman was lucky enough to stay upright, which tickled Jane. She found it peculiar how a man so large seemed to have the balance and agility of a cat.

The night ended cold. They started a fire and put 1 person on guard at a time. Camp was set up and tents were rolled out before everyone had a quick bite to eat. The morning came stiff. Jane pulled herself to her feet, stretching to relieve the ache in her joints. She looked around at the crew. They were all sweaty, dirty, and flushed from the exhaustion and the heat.

Roman holds up a large jar. “I Have pickled eggs if anyone wants breakfast.”

“Yes”, said Jane.

“Thank fuck. I’m starving”, said Adhar.

“Is it your goal to make us shit ourselves in the middle of the damned jungle with so much as a leaf to wipe our asses ?”Rory asked seriously.

“Beggars can’t be choosers”, Cortez shrugged with a smirk.

Roman shook his head. “ Look, It’s either that or beans”, Roman declared.

The entire group groaned at the word beans.

After a painfully humble breakfast, the journey continued for another day. More hot terrins, more mud, more mosquitoes, more sweat. As if the universe finally decided to give the group a break, it started raining again. At first it was welcomed as they all sat in a circle cooling off from such a difficult day of walking. Twenty minutes pass and it’s still pouring hard, so hard that the rain pellets begin to sting. The greenery was sparse in this part of the island which meant there was nowhere to hide. Jane looked to the sky wondering how many more days of this could she endure? Her joints were aching, her hair was dry and brittle, she even had a sun rash. She grew up running barefoot on beaches as a small child, knowing her skin absorbed every bit of the heat that shined down on her. Now her skin was tight and raw like the skin on her lips.

“This was a mistake..” she whispered quietly, head hanging between her crouched knees as she sat on the sparse wet grass.

Maybe life on the boat was treasure enough. Maybe a new found love was the treasure. Maybe a handsome man with generous pockets was the treasure–not this. NOT this.

Roman turned to Jane, just as dried out as her. He didn't look tired like her, strangely enough. He assessed his crew. They were dirty, tired, and sizzling out of the motivation from the reduction of food.

“ Dove.. we are close. Another day or two and we should be there “, He mused.

“ I know, I know. I underestimated this journey is all”, she confessed.

“ We are on the right track… trust. Everything on this map has come to pass”, Roma explains.

Jane turned her defeated eyes to his compass and then back to him warily. She inspected the caked dirt under her nails. Maybe she should have stayed behind but she couldn't rest knowing that he might be in danger. She would be just as miserable back at the beach as she was now. However, she had the key. It would not have mattered anyway.. A deep chuckle tickled her ears and a sneer paused just behind her teeth. She was days shy of her period and incredibly irritable.

“What's so funny?” she snapped at Roman.

He looked at her quizzically. “ I didn't say anything love”, He frowned.

“ I heard you fucking laughing. You think this is funny?”, Jane grew increasingly angry. The laughter played in her head over and over again. Strange inquisitive eyes looked back at her. Did they all think she was a joke for coming on this trip? Better yet, did they find her to be a burden? Someone they always had to look after? Undoubtedly weaker. She could feel her composure cracking. She stood up, gathering her pack and started walking away. Roman was on her heels, calling out to her.

He grabs her forearm and spins her around. Her face is pulled back in a tight annoyance that he’s never seen before. If the circumstances were lighter he would chuckle at the cuteness of it. A slow smile spreads across his face thinking of all the times he would provoke her to annoyance on the boat just to tease her.

“And you have the nerve to do it again?”, she scoffs at that sly smirk. She would melt underneath it had she not been so upset.

“This place is playing tricks on your mind, on your heart and soon your desires I'm sure. Stay focused Jane….there is no time to crack under the pressure”, he reasons.

Her face dropped in confusion and embarrassment. He smiled softly at her, smoothing her hair back under the slick of the rain.

“ It’s not just you.. Adhar believes something is following us. William isn't sleeping. Cortez is talking to himself. Rory is paranoid. As for myself, recurring nightmares that are even worse than when I was on the ship. It’s not just you who’s feeling the pressure. Remember why you’re here. Remember why we did this Jane”, he spoke carefully and firmly in that soft and disarming tone that always unraveled her defenses. She looked behind him at the group. They looked just as defeated. How hasn't she seen it before? How was this place already crumbling their composure? Nothing has happened yet?

“ I- I’m sorry”, She muttered.

“ S’okay. Come. Let’s take a nap. You are over tired and clearly very cranky”, he coaxed.

It pained her to admit to herself that she was indeed tired. She woke up warm and damp from the sun's feeble attempt to dry everything the sky had drenched. Her mood had not lightened. The boys collected rain water and boiled it, bottling it in the leather flasks they brought with them. The hike continued and continued with no breaks in between. Roman was growing increasingly restless and the lack of sleep had not helped. Cortez looked like a zombie and William was silently losing it by the hour. Adhar had gone blank hours ago. Rory was having full conversations with himself. Jane’s paranoia was etched across her face and she wasn't hiding it all that well.

Roman POV

That night they set up camp in a drier terrain and everyone became increasingly withdrawn. Roman sat by the fire with some large insect skewered onto a makeshift shank that he cut from his knife. He twirled it over the fire watching its hairs singe and trickle into the flames. In his peripheral he can see Jane sharpening her knife while looking over her shoulder. She was becoming increasingly hostile and anti-social despite his attempts to settle her. Adhar was rocking back and forth in front of him, staring into the fire. Williams looked anxious, looking over at Jane as if she herself was anywhere near his equal in size and height. Rory was walking in circles angrily, torching large flies that circled the camp. Cortez's eyes darted to him and then Jane's in a worried manner.

Roman began to worry that this journey would end in the bloodshed of one another. In just a few days the crew had become shells of themselves, personifying their worst fears or habits. Was it this island? Was it the hunger? Was it the heat? His thoughts ponder the stories he’d heard in Pubs and Taverns. There were talks trips that ended in bloody murder with crews turning on each other. Other stories said crews went mad and ate each other. It all started to come back to him and soon he realized that he should not have let Jane come.

Suddenly Williams stormed over to Jane and she stood defensively, knife in hand at the ready.

“Give me back my fucking flask”, William sneered at her.

“ I don't have your flask you ignorant Ogre”, Jane snapped.

“ I saw you hide it in your fucking boot. I won't ask again. Give me my flask or so help me I will fucking –”,

Roman shouted, “ Hey ! Cut it out!”

“ Stay away from me. I’ll gut you like a fish if you get any closer!”, Jane warned.

“ That’s it!” William took a step forward pulling Jane's arm which prompted her to slice her blade across his arm drawing blood. Roman sprung into action, tackling William to the ground in a blind rage. He begins to hit him repeatedly. Cortez and Adhar rush to pull him off but his brute strength makes it a task. Jane snaps out of her haze and screams.

“ Roman, stop it!”, she cries. Tears fill her eyes watching William’s bloody face curl in confusion and anger. He wraps his pinned leg around Romans calf and flips him over. Now William is wailing against him but not for long, as Roman pulls William’s face towards his mouth and bites him.

A long, groaning, agonizing, high pitched screech floats through the thick night air. The sound is so distinct that it freezes everybody in place. They all quiet down to inspect– to see if what they just heard was real. Jane’s tearful face is pulled back in fear as she looks at Cortez. Cortez’s eyes are scarily wide, like saucers. He looks past her, staring at something in the distance. She slowly turns her head to look behind her. At first her eyes didn't catch the figure because it was pitched black outside the boundary of light that the fire provided.

However, once her eyes adjusted to the contrast, she could make out the shape of what she assumed was a man. Her eyes started at the feet first. The soles of the black boots were missing, exposing the gray withered feet underneath them. What little clothes were left on the body hung off in shreds which allowed the rotting flesh to peak through underneath them. It was a person, or rather, it once was a person. What once held two healthy eyes were now clouded with blue and gray tones. There was no iris in sight. The skin on the face was pulled tight, exposing the angles of the skull in a harsh light. The nose was half eaten by decay and the top part of its lip was missing, showing rotten upper teeth. The jaw jutted from its skull as it drooled a thick black substance. A gaping hole where its heart should be, mirrored the plants and trees that it stood in front of.

“ C…C”, Jane fought to get a word out. She was paralyzed, jaw slack and frozen with fear.

Before any sudden movement could be made the creature made another shrieking ear piercing cry and darted straight for Jane, knocking her flat on her butt with a thump. It began to claw at her as Jane held her hands out protectively. The men were on it in seconds.

There was no question that 5 men on 1 man would be an easy win. Yet, no matter how many times Roman or William sheathed their knives into the creature, it would continue snarling, roaring, and snapping at the group completely unfazed by the injury. Roman looked just as disturbed as Jane who still sat on the damp ground in shock. In utter disbelief, Roman pulled out his pistol and pressed the barrel against the forehead of the creature. Roman experimentally pulls the trigger and it bursts rotten brain fragments everywhere.

In a quiet shaky voice Cortez whispers “ Amalanhig.”

“ On a scale of 1-10 how fucked are we ?”, Rory groans. He studies the headless corpse on the ground. Another snarl in the distance jolts everyone on their feet. A second scream pushes everyone to grab their packs. A third screech sends multiple bodies of the undead barreling towards them, revealing themselves from behind the treeline.

“ Royally… Run!”, Adhar yells.

Roman hauls over his shoulder. There would be no room for mistakes, tripping, or falling behind. Jane didn’t protest at all, and he could tell by the fear in her face that she would completely disappear from this situation if she could.

Jane POV

What she did not expect was for these creatures to be so fast? They were agile on their feet, snarling and convulsing as they ran after the group. Jane counted 10 and then 20….30 or more? She slipped the gun from Romans holster on his waist and began to shoot with the ammunition he left inside. It was difficult to get a good shot because of the bouncing. Head shots were the only thing that got the creatures to stop. Eventually she was able to take out two of the creatures. Williams pulled his musket from its case and briefly stopped every few meters to shoot. Jane tried to help him as best she could but after a few minutes the men were getting winded and the undead started to gain on them.

“ FUCK!”, Roman snarled angrily.

Cortez called out in a worried winded tone as he sprinted alongside the men, “ If anybody has an idea..now would be a good time to say something!”

Before Roman could say anything Jane shouted, “Trees!”

“ And if they don't disperse!?” Rory shouted over the noise.

“ I smell water. I think there may be a clearing up ahead !”, said Roman

The last 2 minutes to the lake felt like ages. William nearly got bit and Jane ran out of gunpowder. Guns were to be used sparingly.

“ I see it! just up ahead guys!”, Adhar yells. Jane turns her neck to look behind her. A paddle boat can be seen in the distance. Jane could feel a scream rising in her throat thinking of all the things that could go wrong in these next pivotal moments. She whimpered, “ The boat isn’t big enough!”

“ I’ll push and you all paddle. You stay in that boat. Do you hear me?!”, Roman scolded. He could see the wheels turning in her head. He needed to ensure her safety.

The group descended into the water like a life raft. Roman harshly shoved Jane into the boat, in fear that she would protest or try to help him. Only 5 people could fit inside the paddle boat. Roman pushed the boat deeper into the water as quickly as he could. The creatures descended into the shallow shore, heavy on his tail. Rory and Adhar picked up the oars and began to row to add to the momentum. Just before Jane could let out a breath of relief, Roman is pulled under the water by the dozens of creatures that had sunken to the bottom. A blood curdling scream spills from Jane’s mouth,“ ROMAN NO!! NOO!!!!”. She lunges for the water but William holds her back.

“ LET GO OF ME! FUCKING LET GO!!”, She screeches as she tries to throw her legs over the side of the boat. She is no match for William’s strength.

William’s face hardens, “Captain's orders, nothing is to happen to you”, he explains.

“ You won’t have a Captain to take orders from if you do nothing!!”, She cries.

“ We swore to Roman to protect you and that’s just what we’ll do”, says Rory. His eyes were filled with tears as he continued to push the oar in sync with Cortez.

Jane looked around in disbelief. It would seem that she was out of the loop on this agreement. She kept checking the water for signs of him. Signs that he would spring back up. Unfortunately there was a heavy fog that persisted across the entirety of the lake and the shore had disappeared behind it.

After five minutes there was no sign of him as the night fell quiet and the groans of the creatures were distant and far away. The group was completely silent, all looking ahead with solemn expressions. All she heard was the oars hitting the water and the sound of her heartbeat in her ears. An unimaginable wail spilled from her mouth so violently that she had to brace her hands on her knees. The panic and grief washed over her in unrelenting waves as she looked around in disbelief. She could not catch her breath. She could not hold in the pain and the betrayal of his sacrifice.

“ He– this cant... I can’t. —”, she hiccuped. She began to feel dizzy. William pressed both of his hands on her shoulders. Adhar looked at her with a worried expression.

“ Breath Jane…. ”

Williams' attempts at calming Jane were useless. It was a second. She was in his arms moments before this and now he was gone? She blinked and he was gone? She was trembling now. There was nothing she could do. There was nothing that would change this. She sobbed despite the kind words that the group tried to pacify her with. What followed was a numbing silence.

She had no interest in finding the treasure now. She never really cared about the treasure. She came along with Roman because she had fallen in love with him. This was Roman’s dream. This was Roman’s story and she was happily a supporting character in it. What could any of this mean? What was the point of her falling for this man all those months ago, just for fate to rip them apart? Why would life give her this sweetness to take it away? She knew this was too good to be true. She knew it was only a matter of time before everything that she had was ripped from underneath her.

For the next hour, she stared at the boots she wore. He bought them for her at a small port where they only spoke Spanish. He dazzled her with his fluency when he purchased them. He laced her shoes for her a few mornings ago before they left. She counted the laces over and over again. One by one. She decided that she must never take the shoes off especially when it was the last thing he had done for her. Within 20 minutes, they reached the other side of the island. She physically had to be removed from the boat. Adhar grabbed onto her protectively, guiding her to sit on a beached log just a few meters from the water.

The men began to set up camp. This is where they would sleep for the night. Rory made a Bonfire. William heated up some of the jarred food items. Cortez loaded the pistols. That night she sat in front of the bonfire thinking. Rory had taken her weapons. He explained that Roman had told him to do it in the event that he passed. The thought earned a bitter chuckle out of her.

She woke up before everyone else. She was all vinegar, nothing but bitterness wafted from her. Another day in this inescapable hell. She thought the rest of the men would be lucky if they got out of this place. The boat rocked against the pebbled shore causing a scraping sound that got her attention. The very least she could do was look for him. She couldn’t let his body stay here, she wouldn’t stand for that.

She took the paddle boat out before anyone could stop her. The fog was thick, too thick to see that far in front of her. It didn’t stop her from calling his name. She didn’t know why she called for him knowing she saw him go under and never come up. Somewhere in her heart she wanted to be wrong. She could not fully accept the truth. There was not a single sign of life in the water, it felt just as dead as the corpses that still snapped and growled along the other side of the shore. She watched them in disdain, wondering how she could torture something that was already long gone.

She eventually turned the boat around, deciding to make a full perimeter of the Lake instead of cutting directly across. There could be no inch unchecked or disregarded. She knew that if she returned to the shore without his body she would not make it through the night.

It began to rain heavily which made it harder to see or hear. She screamed his name into the rain, wondering how much the downpour drowned out her voice.

Nothing…just stillness and rain. She began to cry again as her eyes scanned the water. She gave up the boat to the movement of the current. The tears wracked her as if it had happened all over again. A large thud pulled her out of her hysteria because the force of it knocked her forward onto her knees. She scrambled onto her feet to see a Giant piece of driftwood. She steadied herself and carefully walked to the edge of the boat. She assessed the boat for any damage and just over the edge she saw swirls of raven colored hair. Then she saw light skin, a nose, a mouth, ears, a face. She dove into the water without question.

She felt cold skin, hard muscles, hair, lips. She grabbed his limp body into her arms and positioned her body underneath his.. She mustered up as much strength as she could, a strength that she didn't even know was physically possible for her own body. She pushed him onto the boat gradually, screaming against the boat with each push forward. Eventually, she got his legs over the boat and climbed into it. With trembling hands, she placed her palms on either side of him and really looked at him. His full lips were blue and he practically had no color left to his skin. There weren’t any scratches on him or bites. He succumbed to the current. She bit her lip to hold in another cry. She placed her hands on his neck and she stilled in surprise. A light pulse….just a single flutter every few seconds. She scrambled to open his mouth and slotted hers against his. She blew hard, pushing her air into his lungs before she pressed on his chest. She pushed as hard as she could and gave him another hard gust of her air.

“ Pllleeasseee”, she cried. She continued with chest compressions. Thirty seconds rolled onto a minute. Another 30 seconds passed and then two minutes. At five minutes she began to panic, moving frantically to hold his nose and force more air. Two more hard pumps to his chest and he begins to sputter water from his mouth. A gust of relief floods her and she begins to sob.

“Baby….my baby…”, she whimpered. She could barely recognize the tone of her own voice. His eyes fluttered open as he began to cough up water. She sat him up, patting his back harshly to help him push out the fluid. The coughing went on for a good minute as he weakly slouched into his own lap. She grabbed his face and pressed it to her own. His bloodshot eyes remained closed as he took in big gulps of air, almost as if they were his very first.

“ You were gone ...I lost you”, she wailed against his weak form. A fragile hand pressed itself to her cheek.

“I-I’m here–”, he choked before choking for more air. She rested her forehead on his watching the comforting rise and fall of his chest. A chest she slept on every night.

“ Don’t you ever… EVER do that again. Do you understand me?! ”, she spat. She grabbed his face, forcing him to focus his eyes on hers.

“ Do you hear me!?”, she cried frantically

“ Okay… Okay”, He whispered delicately. He lost his voice and it was barely audible but his nod confirmed it. He was shivering and soon the cold would take him if she couldn’t get him warm. She picked up the oars and began paddling as quickly as she could back to the shore.

“ Adhar !”, she called out as they closed into the pebble bank.

“ Rory! I need your help!”,She yelled.

The men come flying out of the tent followed by Cortez and William.

“What the fuck!?”,Adhar rushed for the pair, dropping his sword on the ground.

“ I came just in time. Please we have to get him warm. Start a fire in front of the tent. He’s very weak”, she stepped out of the boat and three of the men picked him up infirmary style and placed him inside of Jane’s tent. She sprung into action, peeling off his clothes.

“ What happened ?”, said Adhar.

“ I went looking for him. I went to find his body. I wouldn't leave him in this place dead or alive. The boat mashed into driftwood and I found him floating in front of it –sinking to the bottom. I think he overexerted himself and the current pulled him under”, Jane’s tone was rushed as she pulled off his boots, throwing them behind her. Next came his shirt, weapon belt, and pants.

Roman’s teeth began to chatter, “ Jane…” he groaned.

“ I’m here… I’m here honey we just have to get you dry or you’ll get worse”, she assured in a panicked tone.

A tinge of embarrassment crossed Adhars face as he made prolonged eye contact with Roman’s bloodshot eyes, “ I’ll step out, give the man some dignity.”

Jane peeled off Roman’s underwear and placed his wet clothes in a pile at the front of the tent. She found a cotton blanket and began to rub his body with it vigorously, turning him over to dry his back and limbs. She then wrapped him in all the blankets she could possibly find . She reopened the tent to let the heat from the fire waft inside. Roman sits up now, though still very weak, he looks more alert now. William hands Jane a broth made from the animal bones that they cooked the night before. She places the mug under Roman’s lips and periodically feeds him the soup base. He takes it willingly and quietly.

On the other side of the fire Rory, Adhar, Cortez, and William sat patiently until Roman was ready to speak. Roman, still slow reacting and fairly tired, finally cleared his horse throat.

“ I….appreciate you all for taking care of my Jane while I was …gone”, he says quietly.

“ Cap’n’s orders, remember. We wouldn’t have let anything harm Jane. She’s one of us”, Saiid Rory. Jane smiles sadly knowing what she was planning to do.

“ How did you survive ?”, asked Cortez.

“ Those things pulled me down. I was able to get away but it was so dark that I could barely see. I was swimming in circles all night. I’d completely lost my sense of direction. I kept hearing things. I suppose I succumbed to my own exhaustion. There was nothing to hold onto so that I could rest. There were times I had to tread water just to catch my breath. Eventually I was able to make out a large piece of wood that was floating a couple feet away. I assume there was a current in that space or at least a light current. HadI not been so exhausted, I would have probably been able to swim through it but it swallowed me. A couple mouthfuls of water and I was …comatose. Dead to the world as far I knew,” Roman looked at Jane. She was still very upset at the whole ordeal but was holding back the tears.

“ You are very fortunate. Amalanhig are vicious creatures and they are relentless. I have never seen one before. If they are here, it means they were murdered here. If they would have dragged you to the bottom they would have likely eaten on your flesh for days”, Cortez warns.

Jane speaks up. “ He had a light pulse…I was doing compressions on him for ages. I can’t believe he even survived ”.

“ Well…what matters now is that we are all together. We’re finishing this journey how it was meant to be finished—as a group. Roman is here to guide us once more –after a few days of rest I suppose?”, says William.

Jane nodded, leaning into his side, “ No question about it. He’s too fragile for travel and now he’s at risk for infection. I’ll have to nurse him for a few days”, She sighed.

Roman snorted with humor, “ I’d protest but you’re fortunate I like you as my nurse.” He wrapped a protective arm around her.

The group said their goodnights individually, all heading off to bed. They grabbed the blankets that Jane borrowed to keep Roman warm. Rory went last, walking around the campfire. He crouched down and placed a firm hand on Roman’s shoulder. Roman looked up at him comically, just waiting for Rory to say something absurd and funny as always. A necessity at a time like this.

“ Glad to have you back. Just wanted to say…You’re lucky I respect you so much, otherwise I’d be royally pissed about you getting your ball sweat on my

Blanket Cap’n. No offense”, Rory smirked. Roman wheezes out a hearty, crackly, raspy laugh and Rory follows with an even crispier one. Jane shakes her headand rolls her eyes at their boyish humor. Rory takes his leave for the night.

Then it was just the two of them sitting in front of the fire. Roman flexed his muscles stiffly, clearly still in pain from moving them for so long. “Are you ready to go to sleep?”

Roman grunts in agreement, scooting himself further into the tent. Jane closes the tent and pulls off her boots. Roman watches her from a lying position, enjoying the view of her after such a horrible night. She turns to him and notices that he’s pulled off his blanket and was stark naked now that they had privacy. She decides to strip down to her undergarments. The fire had made it warm now, maybe too warm. When she was ready he pulled her onto his chest.

“ Are you okay?”, she asks quietly in the dark.

“ I’m okay. Are you okay?”, he says.

“ Not until we’re safe”, she sighs. He doesn’t respond but instead squeezes her hand reassuringly.

Jane nuzzled her face into his neck. “ I wish we were back on the ship…Or at some port where we could get ale and really greasy food. The simple things are what I miss the most. I don’t want to be here anymore”.

“ I know”, he says gently.

A beat of silence passes. Jane becomes distracted at the feel of his strong heart beat. A rhythm that she memorized a while ago. She remembers how weak it felt just a few hours ago.“ Why did you tell them to go on without you?”

“ I just wanted you safe. They can’t do that if they’re worried about rescuing me. I can take care of myself. I have for a very long time”, he sighs. She can hear the exhaustion settling in but she couldn’t help but protest. She didn’t want to argue.

“ Do you understand how close I was to joining you this morning in the lake ? I agreed to be a part of this crew because I fell in love with you. As much as I care for all our friends—the loss of you–I– I ”, she became flustered. He was unflinching.

“ If you follow me in death then I have failed you Jane.”

She inhales sharply. She doesn’t argue now. She let the words marinate and bounce around her head.

“ I would have hoped that if nothing else, I have shown you why life is a gift. Not something you waste behind anybody. Or any man for that matter”, he speaks softly and disarmingly. That tone. That tone he always takes with her in disagreements. Gentle, stern, vulnerable. He even presses his mouth to the top of her hair.

“ You knew what I would do…”, she said.

“ I did. That’s why I asked them to take your weapons just in case. Looking ahead you’re set up to live without me. You’ve got a home, a job waiting for you. You’ve even got an admirer in Adhar if you're willing. He would be more than happy to protect you in my absence. He already has as far as I’m concerned. You are so much more than just me Jane…”, rubs the side of her cheek with his finger lovingly. He can feel the wetness on her face and swipes it away.

Her tone turns wobbly. “ The way you’re speaking right now…as if this was a suicide mission.”

“ It wasn’t…but there is always a backup plan. Yet, fate has decided that we have more to do together. I found you…you found me. Clever how the tables turn. I should be thanking you.”

Jane said nothing. She just sniffles, trying to stop her nose from running. She cried enough today.

“ I’m sorry that I scared you. I’m sorry it even happened Jane. Allow me to make it up—-

“ I don’t want you to make it up. I don’t want anything else. I just need to feel you…I-I need to make sure you’re really here”, she sighs. She presses her face against his and he wraps his arms around her waist firmly.

The two of them fell asleep in an embrace. She woke up in the same position, face pressed into his neck and his arms still holding her. In fact, the next two days were spent mostly inside of the tent. Roman needed sleep and rest. The ambush with the undead called for a new strategy. The day time was reserved for sleeping and the night time would be reserved for traveling.

They packed up camp and rolled up their tents at sunset and restarted their journey. Roman’s accident was a hard reset on just how mind bending the island was. There was no more paranoia or anger. The only thing that mattered now was survival which outweighed the need for the treasure.

That same night of travel they evaluated Roman’s map. They had a full day of travel left which would be broken up in two nights. They would walk until dawn. Jane held onto Roman’s arm, happy with being the last two in the end of the line. She couldn't help but to keep glancing at him periodically to see if he was still himself. He was moving slower than usual and she knew that she was not completely healed from the event. On the fourth glance he caught her and smiled, placing his hand over her own.

“ Listen up you Ingrates”, he called out in a joking manner.

The group paused, giving him their full attention. He held up the map in his hand.

“ This map has an illustration on it suggesting that we are approaching the territory of hostile animals. All weapons should be loaded and ready for fire”, he warned

A slew of curses rolls throughout the group.

“ What Kind of animal ?”, Asks cortez.

“ I am not sure. It’s just an illustration of animal teeth with large canines. My bet is on some kind of large cat with how tropical the area is. It is imperative that all guns are loaded now. Be ready to run if need be. Jane you’re in the middle”, he speaks with an authoritative tone. Jane’s face drops in disappointment.

Jane rolls her eyes. “ You are playing the martyr again?”

“ Jane…. Please”, Roman sighs tiredly.

“ This is bullshit”, she scoffs.

“ Jane, you forget your necklace makes you a hot commodity. These creatures will likely go for you first. Why not make it harder for them?”, says Adhar.

She says nothing as she walks to the middle of the line. She tucks her necklace into her shirt and folds her arms. “ Alright, Let’s get this over with”.

The terrain turned into a dense, wet, thick jungle. Cortez had to cut through it with a machete. The landscape is slanted uphill and much more slippery. The sounds of birds chirping and squawking during the night was alarming, as this was usually an early morning to mid day occurrence. Large snakes slithered up trees in bright colors. Jane was not a fan of this as she was incredibly fearful of them. Spiders and scorpions darted out of the group's path. She frequently jumped from the feeling of plants touching her arms.

After 30 minutes of walking something cries out similar to the sound of a weeping man. The group stops, looking around in pure shock. Was someone stranded here? A Moorner perhaps? Another voice speaks Mandarin Chinese and a third speaks Portuguese. Women call out for help and screams yell out in agony. The panicked voices close in but they cannot be seen. Guns rise in the defense. The group forms a circle around Jane, looking for the threat.

“ HELPPPP MEEEE!!!”, A Woman screams.. The sound is so close it causes Jane to flinch and cover her head. She looks up and she can finally see it. Elongated canines the length of her hands, grey fur, stark yellow eyes, a muscular body measuring around 4 - 5 feet. It was a baboon dangling from a vine, but not just any baboon. This was the largest primate that shes ever seen. She didn’t know that baboons could even become so large. The animals stare at her, puffing thick clouds of foggy air into her face threateningly. A low rumble vibrated deep within its chest.

“ Jane…..do not…..move…. A muscle”, William says quietly.

“ We’re gonna take this niceeeee and slow…”, Roman walks up behind Jane, joining her in the circle. William is stationed behind the beast, pointing his gun for a headshot.

The creature begins to howl and hoot, getting progressively louder and louder directly in her face. Cortez, Rory, and Adhar covered the front, back, and side.

The primate opens it’s mouth. “ SHOOT THEM!!!”, a sound falls from the monkey's mouth like a puppet. It frightened her hearing what seemingly was the last words of someone who died by it’s hands.

The monkey drew closer “, NOOO!!”, it hissed. Jane flinched and the baboon dove for her. William opened fire into the back of its head. Roman pulled Jane backwards. Gunpowder flies as Jane dropped down and covered her head. Groups of Baboons screamed from the trees as sets of them set out to attack the group. Roman is back to back with jane as they shoot for the vital organs. With a swipe and tug of her left leg, Jane is knocked off her feet. She falls on her stomach dropping her weapon along the way.

“ AHHH!!”, Jane claws at the ground trying to gain leverage. Teeth poke the bottom of her ankle and she tenses waiting for the pain. Roman dives for the beast and begins to stomp it with the bottom of his shoe, before kicking it directly in the face. It stumbles back and Roman shoots it dead. Adhar screams in the distance as one of the creatures clamps onto his arm. William takes the back of his gun and slams it into the temple of the beast.

“ We have to make a run for it. We’re running out of ammunition!”, Cortez yelled over the noise. Jane grabs Adhar and rips a piece of his shirt off to wrap around his forearm.

“ Everybody run to higher ground!”,Roman bellowed over the sound of his gun.

The group took off uphill. The creatures were tailing them but the gunshots disrupted them enough to scare some of them off. Jane became worried for Adhar who was bleeding profusely and running made it worse. In the distance they saw the opening to what they assumed held the treasure. It was carved into the side of a rocky black mountain with an opening similar to a giant mouth. The entrance was lit up with torches of fire and that gave the crew an extra push for the last hundred meters. Cortez quickly grabbed two of the torches, throwing one to Roman and waving it towards the screaming primates. The fire was the only thing that pushed them back. After another five minutes of Cortez and Roman on defense, the monkeys finally fall back and return to the trees.

The cave was dark, damp, rocky, and unwelcoming. Droplets of water and the sound of shuffling feet reverberated all around them. Adhar was in pain and his hisses of discomfort popped and echoed against the walls.

“ Break”, Adhar called out. There was a much needed regroup after such a violent encounter. He slid down the wall and sat on his bum. Jane unwrapped his coverings and poured some of her water over the deep puncture wounds.

“ He will need stitches. It could begin to fester well before we reach the shore again ”, Jane stressed.

“ I know some herbs that will help”, Said Roman.

“ A poultice ?”, she confirms.

Roman nods. “ Ay”

“ I’ll be okay ”, Adhar reassured. Jane wasn’t convinced but the sooner they got to the treasure the better.

Everyone drank water and did a recount on their supplies. Cortez stayed behind with Adhar near the cave entrance. Roman, Jane, William, and Rory decided to keep going.

“ I hope this isn’t some trick or some dead end”, Jane sighed.

“ I don’t think so, look “, Rory pointed to the walls lit up by the fire. The walls of the cave were glittering with speckles of something. Jane stepped closer and her eyes widened. Gold ?

From the floor to the ceiling the deeper they walked, the more intense the specks of gold, silver, blue, greens, red, oranges and pinks became. Gemstones and Gold were etched in silver. A vibration on her chest made her clutch her key that was now glowing and warm.

They jogged down the entrance now, winded and anxious. Pretty soon the sounds of their feet touching the ground was interrupted by the crunch of them walking on rubies, diamonds, gold, silver. Minutes later they were knee deep in their riches. Every part of the cave was covered. Gold cups, necklaces, whole diamonds like the size of a clenched fist. And to think she imagined this reveal being more dramatic. Now the silence seemed louder than words. Pure shock. Pure disbelief. And then their shock came to a head. There it sat in all its glory. The treasure room that could put the British empire to shame. In the middle of the room sat a large chest. Jane’s key nearly floated off her neck.

“ This is it….I can’t believe it”, Jane scoffed. She glanced at Roman and he looked beside himself. She holds her hand out to him and he walks up beside her.

He chuckled. “ Well, it’s your key. Open it”, he urged.

Jane bit her lip in anticipation and stepped forward, positioning her key right over the keyhole.

“ Well this was not what I was expecting”, A deep, thunderous, incredibly raspy, feminine voice called out. Jane jumped back from the chest. The men stood with their weapons ready. Was this an ambush? A trap? What would it be this time?

“ And here I thought our introduction would be warmer. After all,you’re standing in my horde. Where are your manners? ”, The voice chuckled.

“ What is this place?!’, said Jane.

“ Your final test of course Don’t tell me you thought I would make it easy for you all? No, no. I had to truly be sure.”

“ This place. This island “, Jane emphasized.

“ This place is where all men go to die. The unworthy ones at least –which happens to be all”.

Fear grew and prickled along Jane’s skin. “ Will you let us have this treasure ?”

“ Not before your final test….”, the beast hissed.

Jane looked around cautiously. “ Okay…..”

“ Open the chest …”, the beast taunted.

Jane bent down slowly to her knees and grabbed her key. Carefully, she pushed the key into the lock and twisted it until she heard a click. Placing her hands on either side of the trunk, she lifted the lid to reveal a large crystal. It was red with an iridescent glow of several other colors that fragmented and twinkled under the light of the torches. It was shiny, glowing, and one of the most beautiful stones she’d ever seen. She cupped her hands and held it In her palms. With a closer view she could see a fleshy material on the inside that was beating like a heart.

“ And now your final test. The treasure from my horde and two wishes or…”, The beast trailed off . A pregnant pause fills the room.

Blackness fills her vision and suddenly she’s in front of two palm trees and sand is pooling between each of her toes. She looks out on the horizon and a woman in a long skirt, cotton shirt, and no shoes runs behind a toddler. Her hair is covered by a scarf that almost sits like a crown around the perimeter of her head. In the distance the child runs to a tall and lanky man who’s dipping his toes in the water. He’s wearing long cotton shorts that he rolled up to his calf and no shirt. His hair is cut short to his head. He picks up the toddler running to him and throws her in the air before catching her again. The woman joins them both and they kiss the toddler on either side of her face before heading towards Jane. They walk past her to the tiny houses that littered the shore. This woman was Jane’s mother and beside her was her Father.

“ M-Mom”, she calls out. The woman looks back curiously but her eyes never meet her daughters.

“ Mom”, she calls out in disbelief. The woman turns around and continues walking with her small family.

Jane follows them inside of their home. To her left sits an older man in his late 40’s smoking a pipe and drinking tea. He’s holding the toddler now, who’s tugging on his chin hair. He smiles fondly at the little girl with a heart aching reverence and adoration. The woman–her mother, begins to cook and her husband sits next to the older man. Jane’s grandfather who taught her how to read.

Then suddenly all four of them disappear and Jane’s mother reappears, gracefully older with her hair longer. Tiny streaks of gray peak through her hairline. It’s coily and long like her own and she can see herself in her mother more than ever before.

“ Mother, I’m heading out now”, A young teenage Jane walks out of her room and kisses her mother on her cheek.

“ Okay, enjoy yourself. Be back here by sunset. Tell your friend he’s welcome to join for dinner”, Her mother calls out. Young Jane looks like every possibility, every hope, every daydream, every unbroken thing. She is better…she’s happier. The young Jane joins a young man out on the porch and they walk to the market to meet friends.

“ Jane Ramlal. I offer you a life apart from the one you’ve come to know. A life without the pain, the loss, the fear, the suffering. I offer you parents and grandparents who never succumb to disease. A family intact. A young love that comes easy. I offer you friends who you grow old with. I offer you an ancestral home that is strong and standing. I offer you comfortability. Not a rich comfortability but just enough to be satisfied. I offer you a life outside of England.”

“ And if I accept?”, she asks carefully.

“ Roman is still a pirate on the Black pearl. You never meet. You never make it to this place. All for the small price of the life you were supposed to live. No harm comes to your friends but it is a life apart”, the dragon speaks in a conniving tone.

She goes back to the house and sees her mother sitting on the porch with her father and grandfather. They talk freely, cursing to the wind without a care. They all look so beautiful. She would be crazy not to accept this offer. She reaches her hand out to her mothers cheek and for a moment she can almost feel the heat of it. Her grandfather blows Tobacco in the air. Now she remembers why she liked the smell of Roman’s smoke. It reminded her of him.

With a long sigh she pulls away “ I…decline”, says Jane.

There is a long pause and for a moment she believes she’s trapped in this reality. Invisible.

“ May I ask…why”, the beats asked in a curious tone.

“ I wouldn't change who I am. I’m proud..of who I am. Without the pain of my life…I could not savor the sweetness that I know now. And I can’t…leave him. No matter how much I want this. I want him…more”, she whispers.

And with those words the facade falls away into Gold. Tears rim her eyes and she looks for Roman in a panic. Almost as if those minutes away from him would cause him to disappear forever. She sighs in relief when their eyes meet.

“ Clever girl. There are many men who would fall victim to their deepest desire. You’ve surprised me and that is difficult to do. I am in a good mood. For this I grant you four wishes and as much gold you all can carry”, The dragon chuckles. The stone turns to coins in her hands.

The room rumbles in laughter and cheer as bodies swarm Jane. Rory lifts onto his shoulders. Cortez and Adhar race further into the cave with shocked faces. They cheer for her. Roman is beside himself. This was it. It was over….it was finally over. They were rich. But most importantly they were alive. They could go home..or find home..

“ Rory put me down”, Jane laughed. He set her down on her feet and placed a fat wet kiss on the back of her hand.

Roman rolls his eyes “Watch it”, he hissed. Rory blows him a kiss and dives into coins like a warm summer lake. Roman pulls Jane into his chest and she wraps her arms around him. His mouth meets hers and she sighs from his touch.

“ What did you see?”, he whispers.

“ I’ll tell you later”, she says with another peck against his lips. He kisses her forehead, cradling her head against his hand.

“ Dragon… errr–miss”, Jane called out.

“ Yes”, the creature sighed with annoyance.

“ Can I cash in my wishes at any time ?”

“ If you must”, the creature said flippantly. Jane smiled at that.

“ My first wish. I wish for an elixir that cures any illness or affliction that refills itself every time it’s empty”, said Jane.

“ At once”, says the dragon. A bottle appears in her hand filled with a brown liquid and a dropper.

“ Adhar”, she calls over to him. He obliged her.

“ You- you didn’t have to waste your wish on me. Really. I would have been fine”, he stutters. There’s a flustered urgency in his tone.

“ We have to look out for each other. No matter what. It would be a shame if you got sick and died before you could go and spend your money “, she smirked. Jane places a few drops of the liquid onto his wound before wrapping it again. “ Better ?”

“ Ay…though it’s a bit itchy”, he says.

“ Means it’s healing”, Said Roman.

“ For my second wish, I wish for a device that will repel any evil creature or entity, land or sea, away from myself and the Entire crew in this cave which includes every member of the ship on the beach to ensure our safe travels”, she commands.

“ ……….Done”, says the Dragon. A talisman appears in her palm, a gray stone that’s tumbled smooth. It has some sort of protective marking on it. She closed it around her fist and put it into her pocket.

“ Why don’t we all collect what we can. We can talk about the last two wishes with the group?”, she says to the men. They all agree and begin dumping handfuls of the treasure into the chest that held the dragon stone.

Not only did they fill the chest, they filled other containers. Flasks. Buckets, their own chests, whatever they could find. By the time they left the cave the sun was shining over the trees.

They were expecting a long journey back to the beach but once they passed the treeline, they stepped out onto the sand. Dazed and confused, Jane looks back to see that they’d only traveled a couple hundred feet in the last 4 days.

“ I won’t even question it. Not the worst shit we’ve been through these past few days”, said Adhar. Everyone agreed.

A celebration that commenced the minute the rest of the pirates took notice of the six of them. That night a bonfire was made as Rory retold the dramatic and mind bending story of their journey. Jane sat in Roman’s lap laughing along with Rory’s impression of the Baboon that tackled him. Tonight there was a comfortable breeze. The perfect weather to sleep under the stars. Jane feels eyes on her and she lets them simmer onto her skin.

Roman leaned forward and kissed the side of her neck to get her attention . “ Are you going to tell me what you saw now ?”, he asks quietly. With everyone so distracted there was no better time.

Jane sighed and pressed her forehead to his. “ I was given the choice to go back to Trinidad and essentially live a fairytale. No one ever dies, I never go to London. Everyone would be happy. The catch was that we would never meet. You’d be a pirate and I’d be..far far away.”

“ Why didn’t you choose it?”, he asks curiously. He knew the answer but Roman felt that there could be more to her reasoning. It was hard to believe it was just himself.

She shrugs. “ Besides not wanting to leave you. Who says my life isn’t a fairytale ? And if it’s not already..why can’t it become one..one day?”, she asks him.

“ If I was a better man I would say that you should have chosen the story that would leave you unscathed. The story where life would have been easier.”

“ I am only looking forward now. There’s no need to look back anymore.”

A group vote determined what the third wish would be. The crew was most agreeable considering that everyone had their own treasure. Therefore, the third wish would be a large comfortable ship that was fully stocked with enough food and water to last them the entire journey back to the West.

The next day they set sail black to Europe. The crew celebrated that night and everyone was in good spirits with the promise of a good future ahead of them all. Pete the parrot was even in his cage as he had been before. Many talked about reuniting with loved ones, settling down, investing, marrying. Adhar had plans to go back to India at the end of the year and win back his lost love and give back to his community. Rory was a pirate through and through and wanted to continue sailing and seeing the world. Cortez wanted to visit his family but his heart belonged to the sea. William planned on figuring out the next steps with his wife and investing in her regardless of her decision to stay or go. Caden wanted to be a pirate and someday ..a Captain.

Jane and Roman sat on the wind deck away from the festivities. They talked for hours about all the exciting things that some of the other members wanted to do with their new freedom.

“ Everybody has this elaborate plan on what they’ll do and who they’ll become now. What will you do next ?”, she asked curiously.

Roman smirks. “ I of course would love to keep traveling and seeing the world. There’s much to be seen, wouldn’t you agree ?”, he asks.

Jane shrugged, “ Much indeed. Will you be keeping the ship?”

“ I’m not sure. I think…I may be ready for a break.”

“ A- A break?”, she stuttered.

“ Yes…this journey allowed room for introspection. Being a pirate is not always pretty. In fact, I only just recently allowed in the beautiful parts of life since I’ve met you.”

“ What are you saying Roman”, Jane grinned.

Roman chuckled. “ I think that you and I deserve a vacation. We also deserve to take that vacation for however long we so choose. Or it can be permanent. I am unmoved with either option.”

“ You wish to be on land for a while ?”, Jane’s brows raise in suspicion.

“ I do…the land of Paris to be exact. There is someone that I would like you to meet.”

“ Who ?”, she asked.

“ Someone a lot like me. I think Paris will be good for the senses.”

“ The senses you say? What aren’t you saying”, Jane squinted.

“ Just trust me”, Roman took another playful swig of ale.

“ Okay…well if you think this will be good. And if you think it is safe then I have no reason to protest. My only worry is my warrant.”

“ I will get that squared away with the courts as soon as we enter Europe.”

“ Fine… there is one other thing however”, Jane perked up. Roman looked back at her with his full attention.

“ What will I do with the last wish? I should let the crew decide, right?”

Roman pulled her back into his chest and rested his head on top of hers, engulfing her in his embrace. He bends down and presses his mouth just above her ear.

“ You spend that wish on whatever your heart desires. It is yours alone..”

End of chapter.

————

Authors note :

What do you think Jane’s final wish should be ?

[usoinked]

🤍Him & I🤍 (Mafia! Roman Reigns X Black Reader)

Summary: After marrying Roman Reigns, you find yourself not only bound to him for life but also firmly entrenched in the powerful Samoan Dynasty. Though you never anticipated being drawn into the mafia lifestyle, your commitment to Roman means embracing everything that comes with him. With wealth, protection, and an unbreakable bond, your life is filled with both the luxuries and dangers of the world. This story contains a mix of romance, family loyalty, and intense tension, weaving together love and the high stakes of life that come with the Samoan dynasty🤍

CW: Mention of blood, guns, and violence, HEAVY SMUT, unprotected p in v, mature themes, orgasm denial, crying (from pleasure), nudity, mature language, bondage, choking, just…yeah it’s a lot going on basically 😭

Cross my heart, hope to die

To my lover, I'd never lie

He said, "Be true", I swear I'll try

In the end, it's him and I

The air was thick with luxury, the kind that only comes from being married into one of the most prestigious and feared families in the world. Roman Reigns, the man who dominated both the ring and the criminal underworld, stood at the altar, waiting for you in his tailored black suit with tribal print covering it. His hair was wrapped behind his head in a neat bun, while his beard was trimmed sharply but neat. While he was a mafia boss, there was something different in his eyes as he waited for you to walk down the aisle.

You had never planned on living this lifestyle. Never dreamed of being part of the mafia. But Roman, with his deep voice and intense eyes, made you believe in something you didn’t know you wanted—family. His family. Your family now.

The moment you stepped into the grand hall, the world around you seemed to disappear. All you saw was Roman, staring at you as if you were his entire world. His family surrounded you, everyone’s eyes glued on you as your black dress dragged on the ground. Your veil blending in with it as the edges were decorated with designs and soft roses. His gaze softened, a rare vulnerability shining through his otherwise stoic demeanor. You were about to say “I do” to a man who commanded empires, yet, in this moment, he was just yours. Your fiance, soon to be husband. For life.

The vows were exchanged in a blur. You were married now—protected, wealthy, and happy. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself. Happiness was a complicated thing when your husband’s life was one of constant danger, surrounded by enemies who wanted him gone. But for Roman, there was no question. He was the protector, the provider, the pillar of his family. And with you being his wife, he’d never put you in any danger of course but you weren’t the type to sit back and let your man go it alone. If he needed anything, you were right by his side. Even if he didn’t you were right there. If he told you to shoot, you wouldn’t hesitate. If he told you to jump, you’d ask how high. That was the type of relationship, no, that was how committed you were to this man.

“It’s you and I”, Roman whispered as the priest pronounced you husband and wife. You could hear the promise in his voice. He wasn’t just talking about your marriage. He was talking about his world. And you were his world.

He's out his head, I'm out my mind

We got that love, the crazy kind

I am his, and he is mine

In the end, it's him and I, him and I

Married life was a whirlwind, and not the kind of whirlwind you imagined when you fantasized about your wedding day. The first few weeks were filled with lavish dinners, expensive gifts, and intimate nights at his mansion, tucked away from the world. You were currently on your back with your arms tied behind your back the soft cotton rope massaged against your skin each time you moved. Your curves were slightly squeezed from the rope but not enough to where it would hurt you or make you feel too uncomfortable, they were restraints after all. Your legs were spread wide open showing off your pussy as if it were an open invitation…to only Roman of course.

Speaking of Roman, there he was making his way back into the room, switching out his striped suit he had on earlier to a regular custom midnight black one. A dangerous yet delicate color. His hair wasn’t pulled back in that neat bun he always had though, it was lengthy and free. The dangling ends moving back and forth on his shoulders as he walked, the serious expression he had on his face yet the contrast of softness he had in his eyes, and those hands…god those hands that accompanied it all completed you. As he slowly dragged his fingers on the bed while he stalked toward you, your breath hitched as you looked up at him. “You look so beautiful waiting for me, babygirl.” He said before running his hands over your cheek, the cold band of his wedding ring massaging against your skin. “You remember our safe word beautiful?” He asked gently before you nodded. “Rose.” You don’t know why you were so nervous like this when you and Roman did this several times over but this still didn’t make it any less nerve racking.

That night in itself ended with his strong hands gripping around your body, whispering in your ear, wrinkling the sheets beyond recognition, and an overwhelming amount of pleasure coursing through your bottom half. The ropes left slight intentions in your skin, not enough to hurt, but definitely enough to know something was restricting you. You two didn’t always do shibari, but when you did those sessions were something else. Roman was a man that liked taking charge but he let you have your fun too, even your way…sometimes. Outside of your dangerous life, Roman always took care of you in bed and made sure you felt every inch of him.

But all the sex, wealth, and luxury couldn’t hide the tension that crept in with every phone call Roman received.

You’d never seen him like this before. Cold. Calculated. On edge.

“Everything okay, baby?” you asked one night, as Roman set down his phone with a furrowed brow. You had learned to read his moods by now—he wasn’t the kind of man who hid his feelings, but when it came to business, he kept things locked away.

“It’s just business,” he said with a sharp tone, but when his eyes met yours, the softness returned and his voice lowered. “Don’t worry about it. You’re safe.”

You wanted to believe him. You had to. But you knew it was more than that, more than what he was letting on.

His business wasn’t just any business. Roman was the head of one of the most powerful mafia families in the country. His loyalty to his family was unshakeable, and you soon realized that when Roman said “family,” he meant the people who had his back in life and death. You were part of that family now, but you were also a target. And he’d do anything to keep you safe.

As the weeks turned to months, you found yourself falling deeper into a world you never asked to be a part of, yet it was impossible to stay away from Roman. He was everything you needed—strong, protective, and utterly devoted. But with devotion came a certain level of danger. You didn’t necessarily like it, but you couldn’t help but love the way Roman made you feel and you’d do anything for him. You had also learned that since you were going to be in this lifestyle for life, you had to protect yourself too in case Roman wasn’t able to be there. Roman was the one who taught you how to shoot, grapple, fight, strap up, and come up with a few tricks to deceive anyone. The number one rule this family had was don’t trust anyone outside the family. Family is all you got.

He made sure you never felt alone, even when the weight of his world pressed down on him. The mafia life was ruthless, but in his arms, you were safe. He had his secrets, and he kept you close enough to know just enough to stay out of harm’s way. From the wild goose chases in his black Lamborghini and getting high in his master bedroom to the lap dances you’d secretly give him in the private VIP section in the club and making love to each other all over his mansion, you were together through it all.

“I told you we’re in this together, babygirl” Roman said one night as he pulled you close, his hands lingering on your waist. The heat between you was undeniable. The chemistry you shared wasn’t just passion—it was trust. Roman’s hands, though rough from years of violence, were always gentle with you.

“I know, you know I’m not going anywhere” you whispered, your hand resting on his chest. You could feel his heart beating steadily beneath your palm, a steady rhythm amidst the chaos of his life. “I still don’t understand this lifestyle fully yet, but I trust you.”

Roman’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening. “You don’t have to understand it. You just have to trust me.”

“And I do”, you replied. In that moment, you understood that trust was all that really mattered in this world. And it was something you were willing to give him completely. Because, despite the dangers, the unpredictability of it all, you loved him. Deeply.

But love wasn’t enough to shield you from the reality of the mafia. You could see it now—the cracks in the perfect world Roman had created for you. There were whispers, meetings behind closed doors, and a constant fear that one day, someone would try to take him down, take you down, or both.

One night, Roman’s worst fears became a reality. The call came in the middle of the night. Roman’s eyes were dark when he hung up, the urgency in his tone sharp.

“There’s a threat,” he said, grabbing his jacket, his hands steady but his face tight. “Stay inside. Don’t leave this room.”

“I’m coming with you,” you said, moving toward him, not willing to stay behind while he faced danger alone.

He turned to you, his expression a mixture of frustration and concern. “What’d I just say huh? I can’t protect you if you’re right there with me. I said stay here and I’m gon’ handle it.”

You hated the powerlessness that surged through you. You were his wife. His partner. In the world he inhabited, women were more often shielded from danger, kept out of the crossfire while the men handled the danger itself. You understood that, but it didn’t stop the ache in your chest.

Roman’s eyes softened for a moment. “I’ll be back before you know it. Trust me”, and with that, he left, the soft click of the door left nothing but silence.

Hours passed, and anxiety gnawed at you. The silence in the mansion felt suffocating. You could hear Roman’s voice in your head, telling you to trust him, telling you to stay behind. But when the clock ticked past midnight, you couldn’t sit still anymore. Fuck this. You quickly opened the bedside drawer grabbing a spare gun before making your way out of the room quietly.

You moved down the hall, a shadow in the quiet, your heart pounding in your chest. You couldn’t wait any longer. You needed to know if he was okay.

As you reached the study, you heard voices—Roman’s, calm but authoritative, and another, lower, pleading. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Something felt off. But then suddenly a loud bang went off.

You jumped from the sound, but didn’t hesitate, pushing the door open, your gun drawn as your eyes instantly scanned the room. The man who had been pleading was now slumped in the chair, still and lifeless. His eyes were wide, staring vacantly, but there was no movement. The faint scent of iron lingered in the air.

Roman stood beside the chair, his back to you, his posture stiff, but there was a coldness to him that made your stomach churn. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes flicked to you as you stepped inside.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice low, almost warning.

You stood frozen for a moment, taking in the scene—the finality of it. Your breath caught, but you didn’t look away. You slowly lowered the gun before putting it down on the table.

“Roman…” you whispered, your voice trembling despite yourself.

He turned toward you, his face hard but the familiar softness in his eyes that always calmed you was gone. “What’d I tell you huh? I told you to stay in my room.”

“I couldn’t,” you replied, your voice steadying. “I wasn’t going to sit there while you—while this—happened.”

Roman took a step toward you, his eyes searching yours, but there was something different now. Something that weighed on him. “I did what I had to do. I did it for you. For us.”

The words felt heavier than usual, as if the burden was more than just the weight of the moment. You swallowed hard, the reality of it sinking in, but you didn’t back away.

You stepped closer, reaching out to him. Your fingers brushed his blood-streaked hand, and the warmth of his skin felt like a stark contrast to the cold in his gaze. “I know, give me the gun. Slow” you breathed out before slowly clutching the still warm barrel, prying it from his hands before putting it on the table beside the both of you.

He didn’t answer immediately, just stood there, his breath slow and even. Then, in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper, he spoke again.

“I did what I had to do for the both of us. You know I’d do anything for you. I love you Y/N.”

“I know,” you whispered, stepping into his embrace. “And I’ll always stand beside you, in front of you, and never behind you.” You replied, your head leaning against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. “I love you too.”

The tension between love and danger would always be there. But with Roman, you knew one thing for sure—you were his and he was yours. No matter the expense.

The shower after the situation felt so relaxing, the warm water hitting against your skin. Your hair was out, curly and coiling from the water hitting it as you didn’t even bother putting a shower cap on. Then there was Roman who was behind you, his toned chest dripping with water and his strong tatted arm pinning you against the wall of the walk in. You could only look up at him as his dark eyes stared into your own. “You didn’t follow my instructions earlier, so you know what that gets you right?” Your free hand lingering from your legs up to your waist, and then finally finding itself around your neck as he squeezed.

“Y-Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes sir.”

His hand slowly made its way from the shower wall and onto your shoulders using it to turn you around towards the wall, the hand on your waist only leaving it for a brief moment before returning. “Cummin’ without my permission is gon’ earn you an agonizingly slow release beautiful." He paused giving you time to process everything before continuing. “Because I’m gon’ go slower and slower every. single. time.” He breathed into your ear, the sound of the water beginning to become a blur as you concentrated on his words. With each word your body had some type of reaction.

His words felt so commanding, but no matter how they sounded you’d answer every time. Your pussy was already wet from the water but also because of the way he talked to you, it was creating a wetness of its own; it’s like he knew exactly what to say and when to say it. The pressure you felt against your folds before your insides expanded was more pleasureable than painful, the stinging sensation was there but it was almost dull because of the fact that you’ve felt this dick before. You felt what it was like to take Roman’s length inside of you whether he was gentle, rough, happy and even angry. “You’re so tight f’me, this pussy been waiting on me huh?”

You could only moan in response as your body and face were pressed against the slightly cool shower wall, condensation dripping on the sides as your body and face made a slight outline from the pressure. That didn’t please Roman in the slightest though, which you found out due to his hand making a hard contact against your ass before gripping it. “You don’t hear me talkin’?” You bite your lip before looking back at him before nodding yes. “Yes sir” you replied as he began to thrust forward, his length rubbing against your walls as he muttered. “There she is, there’s my good girl.”

The way Roman switched from serious and dominant to calm and gentle made your pussy throb. His thrusts only got faster and with that, he also got deeper, your body being pressed against the wall with every thrust. The pressure in your bottom half had you moaning out a string of curse words, not only because it felt that good but because it was your man behind you that was causing it.

You couldn’t even hide how wet your pussy was getting as it practically was mixing with the water as a cover up. Maybe if you came, he wouldn’t notice because of the water, but you couldn’t have been more wrong.

“R-Roman!” you moaned out as his back muscles contorted each time he moved, his tatted arm suddenly gripping your hair as he pulled you back forcing you to look at him. “Who’s pussy is this huh? Go ahead and tell me beautiful”, his voice low and dangerous as his hips met your ass due to him pounding you from the back. His moans rang through your ears as your pussy only grew wetter and wetter the deeper he got, but you made the mistake of letting yourself go a little too much. Because while he couldn’t see it, he definitely felt it. The mix of your fluids with the water that was already dripping down your legs sent him, amused him. “You came didn’t you, you thought I wasn’t gon’ find out about it, hm?” He said before he slightly slowed his thrusts before wrapping his hand around your throat, the water from his hands dripping down your chest. “N-Nooo” you whined. You tried to keep it a secret, but you couldn’t keep anything from Roman Reigns, no matter how hard you tried, he’d find out eventually. And he did. He also never said he’d play fair because within seconds, his other hand found his way down to your clit knowing how sensitive you were. “You just won’t listen, even though I’m punishing you. You get off on this, don’tchu.” He said smirking seeing you squirm under him. “S-Shit! N-No I’m g-gonna c-cum again!” You whined out feeling the coil in your stomach start all over again.

“You can try babygirl but you already now I ain’t having that” his voice was husky and it had so much teasing behind it, but the dangerous type of teasing. The one where he would get his way because of someone else’s mistake. The sounds of the water hitting the titles of the walk in shower, wasn’t enough to drown out the sounds of both your voices and the slapping of flesh that came along with it. His dick was practically drilling you while his hand was overstimulating the most sensitive part of your lower half which caused your hips to buck forward. But he wasn’t letting you go that easy. “You tryna run from me?” He whispered in your ear before his grip around your coils tightened and he purposely pushed your body against the wall where the outline now came to your mid section. Your breaths were ragged and fogged up the glass, your pussy was overly sensitive and the man behind you was owning you and your body. It didn’t help that as your head leaned back against his shoulder blade, your neck was exposed and it gave him access to every bit of it which he took. All of it just sending you over the edge, but just when you felt you were about to crumble, he stopped and started thrusting agonizingly slow.

His strokes were slow and deliberate, which made tears form in the corners of your eyes as you felt the knot inside of your stomach slipping away. “R-Roman p-please…I need i-it….” You begged being completely at his mercy. Just how he liked it because he was the one in control, and oh the face you made when you cried under him. He loved every second of it. “Need what, babygirl. Use those words and tell Daddy what you need.”

“I wanna c-cum! Please I was s-so close!” You begged attempting to put one of your hands towards your clit to chase that orgasm that was almost long gone, yourself. But Roman wasn’t having any of it and grabbed your hand, his hand on top of yours intertwining them together and pinning them against the shower wall. His ring band right next to yours. “Bad move, princess”, he said going even slower.

“Roman please-“ you begged having tears in your eyes. “How much do you want it huh?” He whispered into your ear as his hips grinded against yours, his cock pushing through your walls expanding them slowly as he went. “R-Really bad. P-Please I c-can’t take it anymore! Make m-me cum and n-nut in me” you begged looking at him with pleading eyes as tears fell. How could he say no to this? With all that begging and crying, his hand tightened around your neck as he sped up again but he immediately found that spot. “Y-Yes! R-Right there baby!” you screamed out as your eyes rolled in the back of your head and a slight smile crossed your face feeling satisfied your man wasn’t teasing you anymore but giving you exactly what you wanted. Your pussy clenched onto him like your life depended on it which caused a drawn out moan to erupt from him. “Mmm, just like that beautiful. This pussy wants all of me huh”, he said as his other hand slid back over your arm before going back down to your clit. You couldn’t resist the urge of grinding against his hand because you wanted that release that bad and you felt it. Combined with him slamming against your g-spot over and over and the fact that he was rubbing against your clit, your orgasm hit you like a wave as your juices started to drip all over his cock and run down your legs.

Your moans came out as silent gasps from how good it finally felt to have another release. “Look at you crumbling f’me, so fucking beautiful” he mumbled feeling the muscles inside of you contracting before hitting that sensitive spot inside of you again one last time before letting himself loose inside of you, covering your insides in strings of white.

As both of you came down from your high, Roman wrapped his tatted arm around you; his hand resting on your right breast. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And as the night faded into dawn, Roman wrapped his arms around you, his lips pressing against your forehead. “You’re mine. It’s you and I, don’t forget that.”

You smiled up at him, your hand resting against his chest. “And you and I. Always.”

Together, we were inseparable, whatever came our way—no matter what, it would always be him and I 🤍

Divider Credits: @kimjiho1, @thecutestgrotto, @firefly-graphics, @enchanthings

Taglist: @punksyeet @binnieaddict @sheaabuttaababyy @uceyliyahh @partypoison00 @empressdede @luvrsluxe @luvrgirl4roman @marsstyles @mselenalovebug

[overrboarrd]

sanctuary [5]: crossroads

firefighter!roman reigns x azure clark[oc]

warnings: mentions of spousal loss, bodily injury, slight workplace bullying

word count: 3k

a/n: after almost four long months, we are back with the next installment of roman and azure. i've been feeling much better, and definitely in a better headspace to write in. a huge thanks to everyone who's been invested in this story! i'm so sorry to keep y'all waiting so I'll keep this author's note short. love y'all, hope y'all enjoy!

masterlist

•────────────────•

The hum of the hospital was constant. Phones ringing, monitors beeping, nurses calling out orders. Azure barely noticed anymore. She had fallen into a rhythm, one she took comfort in. But today, something was off.

She felt it before she saw it.

The weight of a gaze.

Seth.

He had always been professional with her. A little too smug at times, but nothing she couldn’t ignore. Ever since the infamous after work duel, as B-Fab called it, his behavior shifted. His glances lingered too long. His words held a weight they hadn’t before. And today? Today, he was pushing it.

She was at the nurses’ station, flipping through patient charts when Seth appeared beside her. His voice was smooth, almost casual.

“You misfiled a medication log,” he said, dropping a folder onto the counter.

Azure frowned, picking it up. “No, I didn’t.”

Seth folded his arms. “Check again.”

She opened the folder, scanning the contents. Everything was in perfect order. A small pulse of irritation flared in her chest.

“This is correct,” she said, lifting her eyes to meet his.

Seth didn’t blink. “Double-check it. And after that, I need you to stock the supply closet. We’re running low.”

Azure blinked, thrown off. Stock the supply closet? That wasn’t typically her responsibility. Not unless things were chaotic, which they weren’t.

She resisted the urge to ask why and instead gave a tight nod. “Alright.”

She finished reviewing the file—because of course it was fine—before heading to the supply closet. As she began unpacking boxes of gauze and alcohol wipes, her mind raced.

This wasn’t about her work. It couldn’t be.

She was good at her job. She was meticulous, precise. There was no reason for Seth to suddenly start nitpicking unless…

Her hands froze around a pack of syringes.

Unless this wasn’t about her at all.

The realization hit her like a slow-building wave. This is about Roman.

She sighed through her nose, forcing herself to remain composed as she placed the supplies neatly onto the shelves. If Seth had an issue with Roman, that was between them. She wasn’t trying to get dragged into whatever silent war they had going on.

And yet, here she was. Suddenly under scrutiny, suddenly on the receiving end of busy work.

She pushed through the rest of the task without complaint, but when she returned to the station, Seth was waiting.

“You’re needed in Room 212,” he said, eyes unreadable.

Azure gave a short nod, grabbed her tablet, and headed toward the room.

Inside, a seven-year-old girl with a cast on her arm sat cross-legged on the hospital bed, watching cartoons. Her mother looked up as Azure entered, relief washing over her face.

“Thank God,” the woman said. “She’s been saying her arm feels weird.”

Azure offered a reassuring smile. “Let’s take a look.”

She was halfway through examining the cast when Seth stepped in. He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching.

Azure ignored him and focused on the patient. “Does it hurt when I press here?”

The girl shook her head.

“Any tingling in your fingers?”

Another shake.

Azure adjusted the sling, making sure it was positioned correctly before straightening. “Everything looks good. The feeling in your arm should improve as you get used to the cast, but if anything changes, numbness, severe pain, come back right away.”

The mother nodded, visibly more at ease. “Thank you.”

Azure turned, expecting Seth to step aside, but he didn’t move. Instead, he smiled at the girl and said, “Good job kiddo. Not everyone listens as well as you.”

The mother chuckled, but Azure caught the underlying meaning.

She brushed past him without a word, heading back to the station. She was not about to let Seth get under her skin.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t done.

The moment she sat down, he slid into the seat beside her. “You sure you checked the sling placement?”

Azure’s patience thinned. She leveled him with a look. “You were right there, Seth.”

“Dr. Rollins.” He corrected. “Just making sure you’re being thorough.”

Something in his tone made her grip her pen tighter.

“What’s this really about?” she asked.

Seth leaned back, stretching out like he had all the time in the world. “I just think you should be careful who you align yourself with.”

There it was.

Azure exhaled slowly, forcing a neutral expression. “I align myself with the truth.”

Seth tilted his head, studying her. “You barely know him.”

“I know enough.”

Silence stretched between them. For the first time, she saw something behind his eyes. 

Something calculating.

Then, just like that, it was gone. Seth stood, smoothing out his sleeves. “The stockroom near the NICU could use some organization, too. Since you’re already on top of things.”

Her teeth clenched, but she didn’t react.

She would not give him the satisfaction.

Instead, she picked up her clipboard and walked off, posture straight, movements precise.

She had no idea what Seth’s endgame was, but one thing was clear: he wasn’t just targeting Roman anymore.

He was coming for her, too.

•────────────────•

The house felt emptier than usual.

Azure sank into the couch the moment she got home, exhaling a long, exhausted breath as she tilted her head back against the cushion. The day had been rough.

Seth’s words had clung to her like smoke.

“I just think you should be careful who you align yourself with.”

It wasn’t the warning itself that stuck with her—it was the way he said it, like he was so sure she’d come crawling back for his opinion. Like he expected her to rethink her choices and see him as the authority on Roman’s character.

But she didn’t need Seth to tell her who to believe in.

With a frustrated sigh, she ran a hand over her face before shifting forward, resting her elbows on her knees. This is the part where he’d tell me to sit down, take a second. He’d grab me by the wrist and pull me onto the couch, tuck me against him and just… let me breathe.

Her chest ached as the thought took root.

Her husband had always known when she was spiraling, when the weight of the world was getting too heavy. He never pushed. Never pried. He would just be there, warm and steady, and that was enough.

But he wasn’t here now.

And no one was coming to pull her back from the edge of this feeling.

She swallowed hard and pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, willing herself not to sink into it.

Then, her phone vibrated.

She blinked down at the screen.

Roman: You home? Feel like having a beer?

Her lips parted slightly in surprise.

She hadn’t expected to hear from him. Especially not about anything outside of football.

For a moment, she hesitated.

The smart choice would be to turn him down. She’d had a long day, and he was… Roman. A man who, despite his rough edges, had a presence that was starting to become a little too easy to be around.

And that was dangerous.

But the silence in the house was deafening. And the idea of sitting alone with her thoughts tonight? That was worse.

Her fingers moved before she could think twice.

Azure: Yeah. Meet me outside.

•────────────────•

Azure stepped out onto the patio just as the night breeze picked up. It was cool against her skin, a gentle reprieve from the heat that still clung to the air from earlier in the day.

The faint crunch of footsteps sounded, and she turned her head just in time to see Roman approaching from his side of the yard, two beer bottles in hand. His broad frame cut a familiar shape against the soft glow of the streetlights.

When he reached her, he held out a bottle without a word.

She accepted it, twisting the cap off as he dropped into the chair across from hers with a quiet sigh.

“Rough day?” he asked, watching her carefully.

She huffed a small, tired laugh. “You could say that.”

Roman took a swig of his beer, his gaze never fully leaving her. “Want to talk about it?”

She hesitated, fingers tightening around the neck of the bottle.A part of her wanted to tell Roman. To let him know how Seth treated her.That his so called warning felt more like a veiled threat.

But what would that do?

Roman had been dealing with Seth’s presence long before she showed up. Bringing this up might only add to his frustrations, and she wasn’t trying to be in the middle of something she didn’t fully understand.

At least, not any more than she’d already been. 

Besides, what would Roman even do? March down to the hospital and start a fight?

The thought made her huff out a tired laugh. “Not much to say. Just… long. One of those days where everything feels a little heavier than usual.”

He nodded, as if he understood that weight himself. “Yeah. I’ve had a few of those.”

She glanced at him, studying the sharp edges of his face in the dim light. He looked tired, too. Not in a way that screamed exhaustion, but in the way of someone who carried more than they let on.

“What about you?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “How was work?”

Roman leaned back in the wooden chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Same old. Some idiot nearly burned his eyebrows off trying to deep-fry something in his garage. We had to put out the fire before it spread to the whole damn block.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Was he sober?”

Roman smirked. “Not even a little.”

She shook her head with a laugh, and for the first time that night, something in her chest loosened.

They fell into a quiet rhythm, the night settling around them.

Then Roman spoke again, his voice quieter this time. “You been in Pensacola long enough to like it yet?”

She considered that for a moment, rolling the thought around in her mind like a stone in her palm. “I don’t hate it.”

“That’s not exactly a positive review.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “I’m still adjusting. It’s not what I’m used to.”

Roman nodded, his fingers idly turning the beer bottle between his hands. “Yeah. Change is weird like that.”

Something in his tone made her pause.

He understood.

She didn’t know how much, but it was there in the way he said it, in the unspoken weight behind his words.

She looked away, focusing on the condensation trailing down her bottle. She felt his eyes burning into the side of her face, but she kept her gaze on the green glass. 

“I hope it’s working for you.” he added after a beat.

Azure lifted her gaze to meet his.

What?

“The change.” He continued, tilting his head slightly. “You said you needed something different when you first moved here.” 

Azure swore she caught his eyes softening, as if he were studying her. 

Her fingers tensed around the bottle. That was the thing, wasn’t it? She’d told herself she needed something different. A fresh start. A new city. A place where every street corner didn’t carry a memory, where she didn’t feel the ghost of her husband’s laughter in their favorite restaurant or hear the phantom echoes of his voice in the home they once shared.

But different didn’t mean easy. 

She wanted to tell him that. Wanted to say that no matter how many miles she put between herself and her old life, the grief still traveled with her, wrapping around her like a second skin. Some days, it felt lighter. Other days, like today, it was suffocating. Words sat heavy on her tongue, caught between confession and silence. She could feel the grief creeping in at the edges, threatening to pull her under, but she didn’t want to give it power. 

Not here, not now. 

And not in front of him.

Instead, she used a swig of beer to swallow down the lump rising in her throat, and forced out something lighter. “Still figuring that out. But hey, I get to wear sandals year-round now, so I guess it’s not all bad.”

Roman didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press.“ Well, you picked a good spot for that.” He nodded, taking another sip of his own. 

She glanced at him again, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You think so?”

He smirked. “Not if you’re looking for a world of excitement. But if you just want space to figure things out… yeah.”

She hummed, tilting her head back slightly to look up at the sky. The stars were faint, but they were there. A reminder that even in the dark, something was always shining.

The night air settled around them, thick with the scent of the ocean drifting from a distance as the quiet stretched between them.

Azure exhaled slowly, letting the silence sink into her bones.

This feeling of being on the edge of something but not quite falling in was…strange.

For the first time in a long time, she took a break from thinking about the past.

She wasn’t thinking about everything she’d lost.

She was just here.

With him.

“Hope you don’t regret picking this place,” he said eventually, voice quieter now. More like an afterthought than a question.

“I don’t.” she admitted.

And that was terrifying. 

But for now, she’d let it be. 

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“You been looking like you’re two seconds away from committing a crime all day.” Bianca started, lounging in a chair with her feet propped up on another, coffee in hand.

B-Fab took a seat on the same side of the table as Azure and scrolled on her phone. “If you’re taking requests, I’d say start with assault. Just a lil’ pop to the mouth.”

Azure groaned, massaging her temples. “If I have to hear Dr. Rollin’s question one more perfectly fine chart, I might lose it.”

 “He’s been on your ass all day?” B-Fab glanced up from her screen.

“All week,” Azure corrected, exhaling sharply. “He’s acting like I forgot how to do my job. Giving me pointless tasks, second-guessing everything I do. It’s like he’s looking for a reason to say I messed up.”

Bianca and B-Fab shared a look.

“Knew it,” Bianca said. “I knew he was on your ass today. I swear, I walked past y’all earlier, and the way he was hovering? It was giving weird energy.”

“Right?” Azure sat up, crossing her arms. “He’s always been a little arrogant, but this is different. It started after the argument with Roman.”

B-Fab raised an arched brow. “You mean the duel?”

“B, stop calling it that!” Bianca playfully tossed a small pack of sugar towards B-Fab, who dodged it with ease.

Azure shook her head, laughing softly at her colleagues.“Ever since then, Dr. Rollin’s been acting like I personally offended him by not taking his side. But it wasn’t even my issue. It was between him and Roman.”

B-Fab leaned forward, her expression thoughtful. “So, he’s treating you like the enemy now just ‘cause you didn’t back him?”

“That’s what it feels like.” Azure uncrossed her arms and drummed her fingers on the smooth surface. “And it’s not even like I chose a side. I just… didn’t agree with him.”

Bianca swirled the styrofoam cup in her hand. “That’s the same thing in Seth’s mind.”

“Yeah, well, he needs to grow up,” Azure muttered. “This whole grudge thing is ridiculous.”

B-Fab leaned forward, glancing at Azure. “You know, I’ve been hearing things about Roman and Dr. Rollins’s fallout for years.”

Azure’s stomach twisted. “Like what?” She knew her reason for thinking Seth had it out for Roman. The past. The drugs. Roman taking the fall.

“Well, everyone knows they used to be tight. Practically came up together, right? Then outta nowhere, boom. Roman’s career stalls, Seth gets the golden boy treatment.” 

B-Fab shook her head before continuing. “I heard it was over a woman.”

Bianca scoffed, standing from her seat and walking towards the break room door. “A woman?”

“Mhmm,”

“Girl.” A loud laugh escaped from Bianca as she waved B-Fab off.  “As many times as we seen the receptionists flirt with Roman when he comes in here, and he never folds? That man looks the least interested in anybody. I don’t think I’ve heard him say more than ten words in the past year.”

 “I’m telling y’all, some girl came between them.” B-Fab shrugged, standing as well. “At least, that’s what I heard. I never got the full story, though. Just whispers.”

Azure’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out. She wasn’t even sure what she wanted to say.

Her fingers curled around the table as she stood to leave, gripping it tightly as a quiet heat crept up the back of her neck. She knew Bianca wasn’t saying anything wrong. Roman was guarded. She had seen it herself. The way he barely acknowledged the women in the hospital who threw themselves at him, how he carried himself like he had no time or interest in anything beyond his work.

But that wasn’t the Roman she’d gotten to know.

The Roman she met across the street, who stood on her patio with her, beer in hand, talking about anything and nothing at the same time. The man who softened, even just a little, when she was around.

She swallowed hard, her thoughts unraveling too fast to catch.

It shouldn’t matter.

It didn’t matter.

Realizing the silence had stretched too long, she forced a scoff, shaking her head like Bianca’s words were nothing more than casual conversation. Before B-Fab could continue, the distant sound of sirens cut through the air. All three women walked into the hallway as the approaching wail grew louder. Seconds later, the double doors to the emergency bay swung open. An EMT truck had just pulled up.

Bianca pushed back from the table, already shifting into work mode. Azure followed on instinct, but as they neared the doors, her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the person on the gurney.

Roman.

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