#worst thing that happened to my smut career was falling for a man IRL

[a-shakespearean-in-paris]

wip whenever

thanks for the tag @myreia! Tagging @thevikingwoman @galadrieljones @verai-marcel @fiannans

I haven't given up on fanfic I've just kinda started writing new fanfic. With my own characters who go to places I like a lot. nfwish

“As it is mine,” he said, and she felt absurdly pretty. Pretty and seen and heard and known. 

They danced. “Say if I finish it,” Ophelie later whispered in his ear. “My writing is done. What would you think?”

“Is it ever done?”

She sighed. “Not really.”

“I’d think the same thing I think now. All the art in the world is right here.”

It was late. They should have gone to bed when they went back to their little patch of theirs in Rome. Instead he asked her “what’s wrong Ophelie?” on the hotel bed as he pushed errant curls away from her face. He voice was measured over breathless during sex and it was again a discovery. Nothing was wrong. Nothing hurt. He was beautiful and so was she.

“You’re so good,” she said.

He ceased, demanding to hear it from her again. Her measured name in the air, his hand cupping her chin, she said, “you’re good.” Her stage voice was foreign in the middle of making love. This was Rome upon them, the city begging her in the afterward to stay awake and tell him how deeply she was his.