There Is Nothing To Forgive a Braime soulmates one shot
This fic is a twist on the “shared dreams” soulmate trope, where, in my version, the God’s let your soulmate appear in dreams.
Jaime Lannister had never been good with words. All his life they had evaded him, from the time when he was a child and he couldn’t read without a heafty struggle, to his adolescence when he’d attempt to express to Cersei his feelings.
She didn’t care of course. She didn’t want his love, his admiration, and she didn’t care about his words, or lack thereof. All she wanted was his body and the pleasure it could bring her, all she sought was the security of knowing he was hers, under her spell, forever.
So the appearance of anyone speaking to him in dreams was odd. He was visual, and his dreams often came as a bombardment of images, some cruel, some lovely, all powerful, without a word to be gleaned from any of them.
But this night was different.
The dream was simple really, he was there, in the throne room, watching from above like a raven in the rafters, Aerys on the throne, his own white cloak shining. He watched as the mad king laughed, and he could hear the innocent scream as the king shook with wicked, mad laughter. He tightened the grip on his hilt and stepped closer. He could not hear what Aerys was saying, nor could he hear any other words, but he could smell the sickly chemical scent of wildfire and could feel the heat that would surely come from it.
He watched his own hands shake as he took another step up behind the king, all the fear he had felt in that moment evident on his terrified face.
But suddenly, he was not alone as he raised the sword to strike true. A girl, tall and strong, with long blonde hair hanging down her back. She was younger than him, but her eyes glowed like saphires and as she pressed herself against him, she took his hand on the swords hilt in her own, wrapping a warm hand around his, and helping guide the blade.
I understand. Her words materialized in his mind, and she smiled sadly before helping him guide the word into its sheath through Aery’s back.
Forgive me. Never before had he spoken in a dream. Nor had he cared to.
There is nothing to forgive.
She faded before he could get a true glimpse at her face, leaving him alone to claw at the air, before waking bolt upright, alone in the summer night.
—
Actions spoke louder than words, and yet words were what Brienne put stock in. Honor was her pillar of principle, and she believed in any man’s word as she expected them to do in hers.
And so, when a young man’s begging voice pierced the foggy clouds of her dreams one night, begging for help, for forgiveness, and justifying why he killed.
For the innocent. For those he would slaughter. Because if I do not do it, who can?
She felt a strange sense of longing for that voice, for the man who must wield its mighty tone. She let herself drift towards it, it’s words becoming more and more earnest, panicked, even.
Please, mother, father, someone, guide me.
She searched the crevasses of her dream for its source, but as always found no images, only fragments of words. But then, just as she was about to give up, heappeared.
Forgive me.
The boy was behind the mad king, drawing his sword, tears gathered in his eyes. And suddenly, Brienne was there too. One look at the boy and she knew what he needed. She wrapped her hand around his, and pressed herself gently beside him, taking on the burden of the blade and the sentence it was about to deal. She knew how this story would end.
The sword pierced.
There is nothing to forgive.
All was warm and light was everywhere for a moment, and then it became too much and she awoke, sweating and panting in the summer night air.
Soul dreams are a thing of the distant past. I am no fool. She repeated the sentiment over and over, across years as she travelled lands and seas, and came to the service of Renly Baratheon. Finally, she had stopped thinking about the boy, the Kingslayer, with whom she had shared a dream unlike any other.
Until the night she dreamt of the shadow.
Though she could not see it, she could feel the cool air sweep through the tent, and could feel the hair on her arms stand up. She felt her heart hammer in her chest, and her blood run frozen.
No. No. Please no. Do not make me watch this again.
Renly was dead a week, and yet she could not sleep without watching it play out, over and over again. Perhaps I am the Kingslayer.
You are not.
Suddenly she could see again, and there he was. Older now, but without mistake: Jaime Lannister.
It takes one to know one, and it is not you.
It was his phantom turn to come closer, to warm her against the chill.
How can I ever forgive myself? She wept as Renly before her died once again, and her heart felt as if it were frozen to ice.
There is nothing to forgive.
Her heart beat fast and she turned to see his face.
But he was gone. And she left alone in her bedroll in Catelyn Starks tent.
—
There is nothing to forgive.
Jaime repeated the words his golden haired maiden had once offered him so many years ago. He prayed it would bring her the same solace it brought him.
He had heard of soul dreams, of the most ancient and purest loves, ones which the gods themselves were invested in. Ones for whom the soul was so tightly bound that they could, when direly necessary, appear in dreams.
But he didn’t believe it. Rather, he believed that as comfort had been offered to him, so would he offer it. For some reason. He couldn’t quite place why, but something had compelled him to speak to her, to comfort her, despite not even knowing if she was real, or just a figment of his imagination.
He thought about it a lot on the road to Kingslanding, as him and Brienne walked in silence. There was something in the way she looked at him, this odd familiarity, overshadowed by anger and confusion. It made him wonder a great deal about what she knew of him. It was not an expression he was used to being on the receiving end of.
—
To Brienne’s chagrin, Jaime did not appear in her dreams after the night he lost his hand. Despite the fact that she so sincerely blamed herself for it.
But as they stared at one another at the bathhouse, and he suddenly, inexplicably began to speak, something in her chest thrummed.
“I know, Ser Jaime.” She said, before he had fully begun the explanation of why he killed Aerys. “You did it for the people, for the innocents. If you didn’t, who could?”
His face went slack and his jaw hung loose, eyes fixed on hers as they simultaneously put the pieces together. In unison they spoke their next words carefully.
“There is nothing forgive.”
~~~~~
Thank you so much for reading!!!! I am so happy to be back, and I hope to write a lot more in the coming weeks. Pleaaaaaaaaase send me any suggestions or promps you might have, or if you’d like to see more continuations of any of my work lmk!!!! As always, PM me if you want to be added or removed from the tag list :) Love you all xx, Bea
“Our relationship can’t really be defined in such a clear-cut way. We’re not quite friends, not quite rivals, not quite enemies.” Hero breathes a laugh, “there’s quite a lot of not quite’s when it comes to us.”
“What Hero means to say is we’re the physical embodiment of the enemies-to-lovers trope.”
Hero’s head snaps up at that, “wha-“
“Don’t worry,” Villain leans in to whisper in Reporter’s ear, “we’re still in the mutual pining stage.”
Someone who is in high power, having a personal baker for their sweet tooth - but finding it more and more difficult to contain their ever growing feelings for the baker. Spending more time with them and developing more of a friendship. Baker develops feelings for the other person but is worried that if they’re not platonic that they’ll lose their trust with person A. So they try to subtly flirt with person A (whether they know it or goes over their head is up to you).
“You know seeing you, [hero], tied up like this is a change of pace I’d love to get used to”
Villain purred, running a finger gently underneath hero’s chin, making them turn their head aggressively away as much as they wanted to get more of it.
“In your fucking dreams, asshole”
Hero barked, turning their head to glare hatefully at villain. Villain only continued to smile, their eyes going up and down on the sight of hero on their knees, panting with a glare that looks more hooded, a need rather than the intended masked hatred.
“I’d watch your tone around me [hero], as lovely as you are - your words and actions do have consequences”
When the Avengers go on a low-tech beach vacation getaway (with Spidey in tow), matchmaking the unsuspecting Iron Man and Captain America becomes a team-building exercise.
Rated Teen, Will Tip 40k and 10 chapters at least, Stony, Hulkeye, Thorki, Potentially DevilSpideyPool, Background Relationships, Domestic Avengers, Meddling, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Light Angst, Fluff And Humor, Steve Rogers and Tony Stark Need To Use Actual Words, Bad Matchmaking, Mutual Pining, Snarky Clint Barton, Unscarred Wade Wilson, Teen Peter Parker, Marvel Red Team, Possibly Unrequited Love
When the Avengers go on a low-tech beach vacation getaway (with Spidey in tow), matchmaking the unsuspecting Iron Man and Captain America becomes a team-building exercise.
Rated Teen, Will Tip 40k and 10 chapters at least, Stony, Hulkeye, Thorki, Potentially DevilSpideyPool, Background Relationships, Domestic Avengers, Meddling, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Light Angst, Fluff And Humor, Steve Rogers and Tony Stark Need To Use Actual Words, Bad Matchmaking, Mutual Pining, Snarky Clint Barton, Unscarred Wade Wilson, Teen Peter Parker, Marvel Red Team, Possibly Unrequited Love
Resident Evil 6 ends on an apocalyptic note, and Chris Redfield leads a small group of survivors in the aftermath. Who should join them but Wesker, somehow alive again and as infatuated with Chris as ever.
Chris would have to be losing his mind to love his old rival. Apparently he’s halfway there, though, because whenever he sleeps he’s leading a double life — one without zombies where he and Wesker are married.
Rated M, 248k words and counting, Wesker/Chris, Jake/Piers/Sherry, Chris & Leon Friendship, Minor Background Ships (Billy/Rebecca, Krauser/Leon, Leon/Claire), Mutual Pining, Dream World, Double Lives, Domestic AU (in the Dreamscape), Post-apoc Survival (in the real world), Tired Chris, Slow Burn, Post RE6, Zombie Apocalypse
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am i more than you bargained for yet? - masterlist
Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: Bucky has an unwanted secret admirer, so naturally you pretend to be his girlfriend until it blows over. Will someone catch feelings? Will they be absolute idiots about it all? Will they live happily ever after? We may never know.
AN: send me an ask if you wanna be apart of the taglist for this series, permanent tag list will open back up feb 1st. this series should be updated every Saturday :)
Summary: You’re in love with Bucky, and he’s in love with you. Too bad you’ve both convinced yourselves that the other couldn’t possibly feel the same. No matter how painfully obvious it is.
Warnings: toxic traits from everyone, nobody is perfect. cheating (or mentions of), but depending on who you’re rooting for you might not care, but still. loads of bad decisions but there’s defiantly character development. it’s a wip so if i forget to add something please politely let me know
AN: y’all remember alex summers from x men? don’t let this story fool you, i love him.
Summary: You and Bucky were best friends, but you also harbored feelings for him. When Bucky starts dating someone else, you feel the best thing to do is separate yourself from him.
Later on in the night, you have done a good job of hiding from Bucky, knowing he was still looking for you. You stayed hidden in the corners of the room, trying to plan your grand escape from the party. Your goal was to wait until he went out to the balcony like he always did, or went to dance with the bitch he was with, or at the bar with his back to you. Anything to allow you a chance to escape.
Meanwhile on the other side of the room, Bucky was constantly looking about the room, looking for even the slightest hint as to where you are hiding. He knows you are hiding from him, and he needs to know why. You were so important to him, and he misses you like crazy. Also is it true you don’t like Sharon? Did that keep you away from him? Were you jealous?
Butterflies fluttered in his stomach as he thought about that possibility. He quickly dismissed that idea because no way a woman as amazing as you would want to be anything other than a friend to him. Though right now you aren’t even that right now, which breaks his heart.
He feels a hand on his shoulder and looks to see Sharon looking at him with a smile, “Hey you. Wanna dance? It’s a slow one,” she said with hop in her eyes.
Bucky wanted to turn her down and say no so he can keep an eye out for you, but didn’t want to be a dick. He gave her a small smile, took her hand, and led her out to the dance floor. He pulled her close and allowed her to kiss him softly on his lips. They started to sway slowly to the music.
You see this and allow your heart to break a little more before taking the opportunity to make your way out of the room. As soon as you are out of sight you make your way to the elevator and take it up to your room. As you rise with the elevator, your tears start to fall. You hate that you are feeling this way, and wish you could get over your crush love for Bucky.
You thought separating yourself would help, but at the same time it hurt that he was also busy with her. I guess you can say you were having a temper tantrum that when he was available you made sure you were not, just in spite. But you really didn’t care. The only way to get over him is to get away from him. He doesn’t feel that way about you and that’s fine. But you are at the point that you cannot be friends until you are over this, or else you will lose the friendship completely by doing something stupid.
After getting dressed in sweats and hoodie, you went to the staircase that led to the roof. Your favorite spot. The spot you used to think and get clarity. As you opened the door you closed your eyes and took a deep breath of fresh air. When you opened your eyes your heart immediately dropped. Standing there, facing you, with his shirt partially unbuttoned, hair a mess from his fingers going through it, was Bucky. He looks at you with a mix of sadness and something else.
“Wha-what are you doing up here Bucky? Where’s Sharon?” you ask, your nerves going crazy.
He puts his hands in his pants pockets and looks down for a moment before glancing back up at you. “You’ve been hiding from me tonight. Why?” he asks.
You stand at the stairwell door, contemplating running away, but knowing you can’t outrun a super soldier. Bucky leans against the railing still looking at you.
“You’ve been avoiding me for awhile. Why? Why does my best friend, one of the most important people in my life, someone who I love more than anything, keeps avoiding me, and I need to know why before I go completely crazy,” he says standing straight, pulling his hands out of his pockets to run through his hair again. He looks at you with desperation in his eyes.
You just look at him in shock. Again to contemplate running away, but know you have to face the music, tell him the truth, and face the consequences, which most likely be the end of your friendship. The thought makes you deflate and tears flood your eyes.
“Bucky,” you whisper as tears start to stream down your cheeks.
Bucky silently walks up to you and cups your cheek, making you jump as you didn’t realize he came up. He rubs his thumb against your cheek and you break down and just completely sob, falling into his chest. Bucky wraps his arms around you and just holds you while you cry. His heart breaks as he listens, but he is so confused. What is happening right now?
After a moment you pull away and walk around Bucky to the railing, giving yourself a moment to get your emotions under control. You wipe your eyes and take a few deep breaths. You finally turn around and look at the man before you, who looks concerned.
“There is something I need to tell you, and I want you to let me get everything out in the open before you respond. Can you do that?” you ask.
Bucky nods and sits on the lounge chair he is standing near. He looks at you and suddenly feels very nervous about what you are going to say.
You look down at your fingers, take a deep breath and stare right into his beautiful blue eyes, “Bucky, you have been my best friend from the moment we both arrived to the compound. I feel so luck to be able to be so close to such an amazing man, and know that he wants to be close to me too. But… along the way, I developed stronger feelings that friendship for you,” you say before pausing and gauging his reaction.
Bucky’s jaw drops slightly at your confession. You like him?
You look away as you feel tears again start to build in your eyes, “I’ve fallen head over heels, heart beating so fast it feels like it will burst, can’t catch my breath around you, want to spend every second of every day with you, kind of love. The love they write songs about. The kind you have said you don’t deserve, but you have mine. You have all the love I have in my heart and soul. YOU have my heart.
And I’m heartbroken because you don’t feel the same. You have been going from woman to woman, when it should be me! And then the cherry on top was Sharon. The one woman who hates my guts and has gone out of her way to keep you away from me. I got upset and decided the only way to get over you was to get away from you, so when you had some time, though it was very minimal, I made sure I was too busy for you,” you say with a scoff.
“I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to lose you. I just needed time to get over you. But I can’t Bucky. I can’t get over you,” you say as you turn and start to softly cry again. “And I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, and you want to end our friendship. But I… I love you. I know you’re with Sharon, but–”
You’re cut off when you feel hands on your shoulders, turning you quickly and lips on top of yours. You freeze for a moment not understanding what is going on, but then melt into his kiss as you wrap your arms around him and he wraps his around yours. You feel him deepen the kiss and you open your mouth willingly to his tongue and just sigh at the suddenly feeling like the piece of you that has been missing, just slid into place.
After a few more moments you slowly pull away, but Bucky would not loosen his grip around you, holding you close and staring into your eyes for a moment. It was just silent as you both enjoyed the moment, neither willing to break the silence. Bucky leans in and gives you another kiss on your lips before cupping your cheek again.
“I’ve loved you since the moment I laid on you. You have always been more than a friend to me. And yes I don’t deserve your love, but I know you would never accept that answer, so if your sure you want to give it me, I will take it and protect it for the rest of my life. I love you, Y/N. I love you more than anything in this world,” he says.
Your heart continues to pound in your chest and you feel so happy to hear that he is in love with you too, but then a thought crashes through that happiness. Sharon.
“What about Sharon?” you ask, still wrapped in Bucky’s arms.
He kisses your forehead, “I broke up with her before I came up here,” he says matter-of-factly.
Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, making Bucky laugh, “When I saw you escape the party I excused myself from her to follow and she told me that I had to choose between you and her. While I knew you weren’t happy with me, I also knew that no matter what, no one would ever beat you in that scenario. It’s you. It’s always you, and it’s always going to be you,” he says.
You smile in response to his words and pull him back down to your lips. After a few moments you both realize you are swaying to the sound of the music below, cutting through the wind. Every few moments you would both steal kisses and share little giggles.
“I’m sorry for making you wait,” he said softly.
“It’s ok. You got me now,” you say before kissing his nose.
“It’s always going to be you,” he whispers in your ear before kissing you again. You both feeling complete for the first time, and you never want to lose that feeling.
–
Hope you all liked it! Sorry it took so long to get it out!
John Smith and Rose Tyler both work at the Natural History Museum in London, he’s a scientist at the Ancient DNA laboratory, and she’s a salesgirl in the gift shop. They are only friends, but the upcoming staff Christmas party promises developments they’ve both been longing for.
However, before they can leave the lab to attend the party, an ancient pathogen from a prehistoric reindeer causes a lockdown.
John, Rose, Martha, Donna and Jack all get stuck together in the laboratory. Shenanigans ensue: decontamination showers, cocktails in beakers, a game of truth-or-dare and a Secret Santa rigged by meddling friends.
Nico whilst pining over Leo rants to Jason, and Jason being the good bestie he is IMMEDIATELY pulls out his notes and does his best to throw them in fanfic-like situations. Nico is too busy crying over Leo’s cute fluffy hair to really care, but psssst Leo did the same thing and Jason is like u should ask him out! I know it’ll work! Why? um yes! @ both of them and I’m right
**story is finished, chapters post weekly** Rating: Explicit (eventually) High school/college AU
Dean has been in love with his best friend for years, but Cas doesn’t even know he’s bi.
Now it’s just the two of them on an epic cross-country road trip to start their first year of college. It’s their last summer of youth, and the clock is ticking down. Dean has to either fess up about his feelings, or risk drifting apart in the tides of time.
Turns out, there’s a lot he didn’t know about Cas either.
Tags include: Mutual pining, road trip, recreational drug use, coming out, internalized homophobia and implied/referenced homophobia, past Dean/Cassie, implied Cas/Meg
➳summary: Maddie Pine thought she had her life figured out. She was pursuing her lifelong dream of becoming an artist, she had her two best friends Tom and Elena, and she was set to marry her college on-again, off-again boyfriend, Drake. But like everything in Maddie’s life, it never came easy. As the thunder clouds build overhead, a hurricane erupts when Maddie catches her fiancé cheating on her. Devastated and forced to cancel her weekend getaway with her and Tom’s families, Maddie’s unsure if she can carry on with her life… Until six months later, she receives an invitation to her ex-fiancéandcousin’s wedding extravaganza. Tom, the only man in this world who knows her inside and out, devises a plan to throw it back in the enemy’s face. He suggests that he and Maddie fake date for the wedding. But the night of the rehearsal dinner, Tom suddenly pushes the envelope a little too far and informs everyone that he and Maddie aren’t just dating, but they’re engaged.With both families ecstatic, Maddie and Tom are caught in the lies they tell to make their story believable… It’s all fun and games until you’re suddenly falling head over heels in love with your best friend, a promise you vowed to keep so many years ago. Join Maddie and Tom as they ride the waves of the ocean they’ve created and hopefully succeed in their escapade. Because if not… they’ll never be the same.
Saturday. Sunny. Not a cloud in the sky. Work calls.
“Hey, Maddie, could you arrange the paints that came in this morning?” Elena Johnson, Maddie’s longtime best friend and current boss, requested of her with a smile. Quickly glancing up at her from the stack of bins in her small hands, Maddie nodded her head.
Maddie had been working at Michaels Arts and Crafts store since she turned fifteen. She was currently an art student attending an actual art school. Maddie was grateful enough to her beloved parents for helping out, but more so to herself that a full-ride scholarship was granted to her for her artistic abilities.
Always maintaining a gift for sketches, painting, and everything art-related, it truly was Maddie’s calling and passion. Despite her aunt and uncle’s critical spurts at Thanksgiving and Christmas when the relatives got together.
One question Maddie always heard from dear Grandma Stella was:
“Why don’t you do like your sweet cousin, Hannah, and become a nurse?”
The most straightforward answer without causing a war: Maddie liked to paint.
Hannah didn’t have one innovative bone in her body. Her voice croaked as though she had a frog lodged in it, she believed Shakespeare was the name of a vessel that sailed across America, and she stumbles over her own feet.
She was gifted with good looks and nice hair, but again, nothing else.
So how she got into nursing school was beyond Maddie’s understanding.
There was no way in hell Maddie would allow Hannah Lucas to stick her with a needle.
Placing her things to the side, Maddie rescued her iPod Touch out of the pocket of her blue skinny jeans, soon scrambling to gather her earbuds.
“You were not tangled when I put you in my pocket!” Maddie hissed under her breath. It was as though they came alive in the darkness of her pocket, tangling their wires together into a tiny little knot. Maddie wondered if gremlins lived within the depths of her pockets and generated this distress. Toiling, Maddie persisted to unravel them as she made her way toward the back of the store that held the unorganized paints.
By the time Maddie reached her destination, she let out an “Aha!”to which a customer heard her, quickly peeking at the young worker. Maddie glanced back at her, seeing the artificial arrangement of flowers cradled in her hands. Lilies. Quick, what goes good with fake lilies?
“Those would look great paired with roses,” Maddie relaxed her hands on her hips in an endeavor to appear somewhat experienced. The woman averted her eyes to the flowers in hand, clearly not wanting to associate herself with an eighteen-year-old female who was held victorious untwisting her earbuds…
Folding her head down in humiliation, her cheeks burned red. Maddie quickly pushed the earbuds inside her ears and pressed shuffle on the iPod.
InstantlyDONTTRUSTMEby 3OH!3 came on. Maddie was suddenly grinning to herself, observing as the customer who scrutinized her amusingly darted down another aisle. Pushing her hips in circles, Maddie dropped herself to the ground and started sorting through the container of paints. It was a box full of acrylics, varying in a rainbow of colors.
As the music wafted through her ears, Maddie found herself humming. Gathering up a few bottles at a time, she wandered over to the shelves and lined them in neatly. The song played through and she was awkwardly dancing back and forth to it. It reminded her of all those cheesy dances she went to in junior high, which normally ended with someone getting drunk because their parents weren’t home and the party was moved there.
Elena had no issue with Maddie listening to music when it came to stocking, so long as it didn’t interfere with her helping customers.
Yet Maddie wasn’t anticipating being caught red-handed and ultimately mortified. Her dark hair flowed in its messy ponytail as she exploded with the raunchy lyrics.
Maddie piped the explicit words under her breath, not acknowledging her voice was carrying its way across the store. Her salacious dance had begun to transform into swaying hip gestures that would have her mother’s jaw striking the ground every time she trekked over to gather acrylic paints from the box. With that being said, she never saw himcoming.
Rotating into a circle, she shut her eyes and resumed the ill-sounding verse that was so freeing to sing, until she opened her eyes to see someone standing there.
“AHHHHH!”Maddie unexpectedly found herself colliding into someone’s chest. A hard chest at that.
Maddie yanked the earbuds out, the music still playing rather loudly.
“I am so sorry,” The voice said. It was velvety, delicate, and belonged to a guy. “But 3OH!3?”
And he had an accent?
Pause.
Did he just scorn her music selection?
Gradually, Maddie peeled her eyes away from the floor and peeked up. Clothed in a t-shirt and jeans, he had the curliest blonde hair and a pair of lovely eyes.
“Are you alright?” He asked Maddie, catching her bottles of acrylic paint on the floor to which he quickly bent down and helped her to pick up. Once they had them all nestled back into the box, Maddie breathed out a sigh.
“Yeah, curls. Thanks,” Maddie suppressed a laugh, his eyes flickering when she referred to him as curls. “Also, don’t hate on 3OH!3.” She pointed an index finger at him before continuing. “Um, is there something I can help you with?”
He grinned softly, licking his lips.
“I assume you also belt out the lyrics to My First Kiss, don’t you? But yeah, I was actually going to see if you could point me in the direction of painting. I’ve decided to participate in the activity.” He looked at Maddie who studied his face, pondering where his accent hailed from.
“Ireland?” Maddie questioned.
He narrowed his eyes. “Excuse me?”
“Australia, wait, no. Hold on, I have to run through my countries.”
The man tipped his head to the side. “What are you - Wait. You seriously can’t tell from the accent?” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“England!” Maddie cried.
“Atta girl,” He chuckled.
“Do you really love tea and is the weather the only thing you like to talk about?” Maddie threw out stereotypes. “And why do you call fries chips? A chip comes in a Lays bag.” She jabbered on to the stranger. That was her character trait. Maddie could befriend anyone, but something about the way he looked at her deliriously only added a comical element to the plain.
“Darling, if I’m not mistaken, you just stereotyped me. Hard.” He breathed out.
Maddie inhaled sharply. “Whoa, ‘darling’, already? I don’t even know your name.” She laughed. “But no, I’m just picking fun at you… Except for the chips and fries debate, that one still confuses me.”
He persisted to look at Maddie, blinking a few times as he analyzed her face.
“I’mTom, by the way. Hiddleston.” He presented her with his largehand.
Maddie beamed. “Who names their kid Tom by the way Hiddleston?” She blinked.
Tom gazed at this beautiful woman and that was when the two of them began laughing.
“Okay, I’m sorry. I’m Madelyn Pine, but please never call me Madelyn, unless I’m in trouble. Stick to Maddie if you want to see another day. Now really, I need to act like I’m doing my job. What can I do for you, Tom?”
He looked back at the painting supplies. “As I said, I want to try my hand at painting. I can act, somewhat sing, might as well add to the list… and maybe I’m trying to come up with an idea for a Christmas gift for my mom.”
“Christmas gift in September?” Maddie giggled.
Tom stared at her with his own chuckle. “If I’m horrible at it, I need to get some practice in beforehand.” He told her with a small smile.
Nodding, Maddie understood. “Do you want me to show you the supplies or would you like lessons?”
Tom’s eyes flickered wildly with curiosity at her suggestion.
“Lessons sound intriguing.”
Maddie bit her lip. “Here,” She smiled and pulled a pen out of her pocket. Grabbing Tom’s hand, she scribbled her number down on his palm. “This is my number… And this is what time my class starts tomorrow.”
Tom looked at Maddie and she smiled softly. “I’m an art student at the New York School of Art. I’ve been painting since I was six. Might I add, I’m pretty good. So I can show you a thing or two. Quite possibly, I could have you ready to paint a gift for Mumbefore Christmas.” She winked, bringing Tom to roll his eyes at the pronunciation of ‘mom’.
“You don’t rest, do you?” He asked her.
Maddie shook her head. “Nope, and if you want these lessons, you’ll have to deal with it.”
His smile spread wide across his face. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”
Maddie nodded, giving back the smile. “Wait, did I hear you say you act? I swear you have a face that’s reallyfamiliar.”
Tom chuckled. “A few things here and there, yeah. Now just waiting for the breakthrough, I presume.” He sighed.
Maddie smiled. “With those curls? You should get something.” She giggled. “How old are you?” Suddenly she asked.
Tom narrowed his eyes. “How old do I look?”
Contemplating, Maddie made a noise with her mouth as she surveyed him. Walking around him, Tom let out a laugh.
“Twenty…” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Three.”
Tom smirked. “Five years off, Love… Do better,”
Ten-year age difference. Not too bad. Her mother may be a little wary, but that’s only if she found out. Until then, Maddie wouldn’t let him think it was okay.
“That is disgusting. You are ancient.” Maddie stuck her tongue out at him.
He gasped. “How old are you?!”
“Eighteen!”
“A child!” Tom cried out.
Maddie and Tom exchanged a stare before they both busted into a fit of giggles.
He checked the time on his watch and sighed. “Alright, Maddie. I’ll let you get back to work. But I’ll see you tomorrow night, okay?”
Maddie smiled and nodded her head.
“See you tomorrow, Curly Fry.” She sighed, already pinning him with a nickname that had him blushing.
MAY 21, 2021
HOLLYWOOD, CALIFORNIA
The wind whipped through Maddie’s dark curls, the top down on the newly purchased Jaguar. With a grey exterior with red-hot seats, she felt like a primetime babe sitting behind the wheel of the convertible. Sunglasses covered her green eyes, Shoot to Thrill by AC/DC blasting. Weaving in and out of traffic, she watched as he grabbed the door handle.
“Darling,do you even know how fast you’re going?!” Maddie’s best friend of twelve years, Tom Hiddleston, exclaimed from the passenger’s seat of the car. Maddie let out a bellowing laugh, watching as his short and dirty blonde hair wafted along with the wind, the collar of his button-up nearly flapping.
“Oh, Hiddleston, you LOVE this!” Maddie exclaimed, pulling up at a light. “It was your idea for me to buy a Jag… you did this.” She pointed at him. She gazed down at the engagement ring on her left hand, watching as it dazzled underneath the sunlight.
“Yeah, but I’d also like to make it back to London in one piece.” He looked over at Maddie.
Smiling, Maddie reached out and grabbed his hand, tangling it through hers. “I’ll buy you a drink after this, alright?” She nudged him, knowing the man would never turn down the chance to drink with her.
“Make it a double… or a triple if we make it out of this car alive,” Tom smirked at her gorgeous face.
The duo’s next destination was the wedding dress shop. Maddie’s dress had its final alterations made and she wanted to have it picked up before she flew out to New York.
The time had come again for Maddie and Tom’s families to get together for a small, two-week getaway trip to a location that was randomly chosen… from a hat.
Thrilling, right? Each family member attending would write down their choice and toss it into a hat. Once it came time to plan the trip, the destination would be chosen and everyone would pitch in to pay.
This time, Tom’s mother, Diana, and Maddie’s mother, Amanda, picked together. The two became best friend’s nearly a year after Maddie and Tom did when Diana was adamant about meeting some of the young girl’s family upon her son bringing her home for a weekend in London right as Tom’s first movie, Thor took off, where he played the evil brother of a highly-acclaimed hero with superpowers, whose throne Tom’s character, Loki, was threatening to take over.
Once the two women were in the same room together, they were inseparable.
The destination chosen by Diana and Amanda was Hawaii.
Maddie was very much excited but desperately wanted to get to the bridal shop.
When the light turned green, Tom nearly gripped the sides of the red seats as Maddie lurched forward, practically bypassing everyone.
“Youstill scare the shit out of me,” Tom whispered.
“Hey!Language, Mr. Prim, and Proper!” She smacked his arm.
Tom shook his head. “You do! Love, we need to make it in one piece.Notseveral pieces.”
Giggling, Maddie soon pulled into the parking lot of the dress shop. Closing the top on the grey Jaguar, she and Tom both piled out. But of course, him being dramatic, he bent himself over with his hands on his knees.
“I think I’m going to throw up, darling.” He announced to her.
Maddie walked over to him, rubbing his back. “Aww, poor baby Hiddleston!” She said in a baby voice, making him playfully shove her. “Straighten yourself up. We’ve got work to do.” She winked.
Pushing her way inside, Maddie went up to the desk and was greeted with a friendly smile.
“Hi, I’m Maddie Pine. I’m here to pick up my wedding dress.” She informed her. The receptionist looked between Maddie and Tom, smirking to herself.
“I thought it was bad luck for the groom to see the bride’s dress?”
Maddie and Tom immediately shared a glance. “We’re not together.” They both said at the same time.
The woman glanced at the pair again, quickly laughing. In her mind, she thought of them to be quite adorable. A gentleman with blonde hair and crystal blue eyes paired up with a chestnut beauty with sparkling emeralds. “I’ll let Grace know you’re here, Ms. Pine,”
Maddie quietly thanked her as she turned back around, Tom and she made their way over to the bay window that showcased the glimmering downtown of Hollywood. “Tell me again why you dragged me along to pick up your wedding dress?” He leaned over her shoulder with a whisper.
Laughing, Maddie turned around to face him. “Because someone called and said they were in town… I figured it’d give us some time to catch up. We’ve still got to plan to sit down and watch the first season of Loki together. I’m very excited.” She nudged his side. She was proud of him for everything he had accomplished
Tom chuckled. “Don’t let Drake find out you’re with me,” He whispered.
Scoffing, Maddie rolled her eyes at the mention of her fiancé’s name. “Drake can kiss my ass. He’s just a fiancé, you’re my best friend.”
Tom smiled. “You did meet me first, didn’t you? Anyway, are you sure you want to marry him? Based on that comment, you could care less.”
Heloved giving Maddie hell, not just for Drake, but any guy she had ever dated. It’s how the two functioned. When either of them got themselves tangled up in a relationship, they nitpicked the other’s significant other… Until there were certain ones that they found no flaws in.
“At least my ass didn’t get a song written about them.” Maddie looked up at him, Tom’s mouth falling open.
“You’renever going to let the Swift comments go… are you?”
Maddie shook her head. “I’ll tell your kids about it too.”
Tom rolled his eyes and shoved her.
“You’re just upset I didn’t take you as my date to the Met Gala,” He narrowed his gaze.
Maddie turned around, arms crossed over her chest. “Yeah? If you would’ve taken me, your ass wouldn’t have a hit on the radio,”
Tom glared meanwhile Maddie’s lips pressed into a tight line. But then Maddie snickered, not able to keep a straight face. He wrapped his arm around her and hugged her to his side.
“Darling, I would’ve taken you, had you not been showcasing your newest art piece.”
Sighing, Maddie nodded. “…Which my best friend thought wasn’t as important as the Met Gala”
“Darling!” He groaned. “I was invited!”
Just as Maddie was about to say something more snarky just to irk his nerves, Grace appeared. “Maddie! Hi!” She smiled, then looked at Tom briefly. “Is this the darling groom?”
“Best friend,” Maddie and Tom again said in unison.
Grace quickly nodded, glancing between the two, ushering them back. Maddie reached her hand out and wiggled her fingers, motioning Tom to follow. Once they were nestled in the back, Tom took a seat in the waiting portion while Grace helped Maddie into the gown.
“This dress is stunning, Maddie. The day you purchased it, I had four other brides want the same one.” She informed the bride with a glimmering smile. Maddie giggled lightly, watching as she unzipped the bag. She removed her clothes and was soon placed back into the wedding dress.
Fitting her frame perfectly, it was solid white with beads of lace running across it. The veil Maddie had chosen was long and sparkly. The dress itself was strapless and pushed her chest upwards, giving her an encouraging lift. It hugged her small waist and was a mermaid style at the bottom. Looking at herself in the mirror, Maddie gasped, covering her mouth.
“You look gorgeous,” Grace grasped her shoulders. “Are you going to let the gentleman outside look?”
Nodding, she helped Maddie off of the step.
Making her way out of the small room, Tom’s head picked up. His eyes grew wide, his smile stretching out across his face. Pressing his index finger to his pursed lips, he watched as the gown moved elegantly with each step Maddie took. Stepping onto the platform, she looked at him with tear-filled eyes.
“Darling, you look breathtaking,”Tom announced, standing up. Maddie smiled and watched him come closer, his hands reaching out to grab hers.
Sniffling, Maddie wiped her eyes.
“I figured since you and my dad are giving me away, it was only fitting if my best friend saw it,” Maddie whispered. It was a decision that her father was certainly a part of. Jake Pine encouraged Maddie to ask Tom to walk her down the aisle alongside him, as he and Tom both had been steady men in her life.
The small pain that coursed through Tom’s chest when Maddie mentioned him walking her down the aisle was evident, but he tried to mask it with another smile. He wanted Maddie happy, and if walking her down the aisle to the prick he couldn’t stand made her happy, he’d do it with pride.
“You look gorgeous, love. It’s you in a dress, extra as ever.” Tom laughed, causing Maddie to grin. For a moment, the two of them stared at one another longingly before she ultimately cleared her throat.
“I’m going to take it off… if I don’t, I’ll never want to.” She sighed, turning around to disappear into the back. Tom walked back over to the seat and plopped down, his head falling into his hands.
He was more than ready to get this vacation in Hawaii started, so he could be around everyone. Although he’d have to deal with Maddie’s nuisance of a fiancé, so long as he could see her smile, he would be pleased.
Tom had been told countless times, whether it was from Diana, Emma, Sarah, Chris, or even Ben or Sophie, that he was a fool if he let Maddie get married on December 4th.
But Tom wasn’t about to bust up a relationship that she seemed happy with, all because sometimes he laid in his bed at night, wishing she were there.
Then again, Tom fought himself constantly over the idea of whether or not he and Maddie were meant to be together. Part of him screamed yes, they were a match made from above. Yet the other part of him yelled no. Why? Because their friendship had stood through the test of time, his crazy life, her swirling world, and many scandalous ups and downs that nearly broke them. Maddie adored his life, the liveliness of it, the satisfaction of the fame. She ate up any chance he gave her to be in the spotlight alongside him.
Could they really be together?
Tom was pulled out of his thoughts when Maddie reemerged, the dress in hand.
“Ready?” Maddie smiled at her best friend, the man who had essentially watched her grow up. She was all but eighteen, spunkier than ever, while he was four years away from entering his thirties.
The two balanced the other out, everything falling into place. Tom knew he was hooked on Maddie the moment she made fun of him for being British in that small aisle inside Michaels twelve years ago.
He couldn’t afford to lose her. If he did, he would lose a piece of himself. The woman who has kept him practically grounded. His closest confidant, the person who knew his deepest and darkest secrets, never once passed judgment.
“Yeah,” He smiled, the two of them soon making their way out of the dress shop. Tom grabbed the dress from Maddie’s hands and was headed to put it into the car until she made a sour face.
“What?” He asked, then he realized.
The damn dress wasn’t going to fit.
“You are a dumbass for driving the two seated convertible to get your wedding dress!” Tom exclaimed, making Maddie bust out laughing.
“But I’m the dumbass you love, Hiddleston!.”
Tom felt his heart clench at the word love.
“Oh… you are.” Tom sighed, the two of them soon figuring out how to travel with the dress inside of its bag.
The drive back to Maddie’s Hollywood home was filled with her shrieking, “Thomas William, if you crease my dress, I’m throwing you into a volcano as soon as we get to Hawaii!”
“Just shut up and keep driving, I’ve got it!” He said back to Maddie through a laugh.
T-Minus two days until Maddie’s flight to New York before she leaves for Hawaii…
Paring:Giacomo Casanova x Fanny Price Chapter: 3/? Rating:Explicit Word count: 3000 Tags: Slow Burn, Fluff, First Meetings, First Kiss, First Time, Mutual Pining, Masturbation
Summary:
When he decided to come to England, it was for the women. It wasn’t to sell the Italian dresses he didn’t make. It wasn’t to drink champagne in posh garden parties he didn’t like. It most definitely wasn’t to fall in love with a woman he didn’t want.
Tagging@timepetalscollective for the third chapter - and I am writing this much too quickly!
CHAPTER 3
The ten minutes she had given him had turned into twenty, thirty, into a full hour they had spent strolling along the white pebbled-path slithering among the gardens. They had talked. Just talked, gotten to know each other a little better. He knew she had been sent away from an impoverished home at age ten to live with a wealthy family that didn’t hold her in their hearts. She knew he was a prosperous Italian dressmaker in Venice and had come to England to sell his creations to British high-class society and enlarge his market.
He tossed a ten pound note on the counter and pointed his chin at the scantily dressed prostitute eying him with a filthy smile he answered with one of his own.
Fanny Price. She was a nice girl, he thought. No, not a nice girl. An exquisite woman. He remembered her smell, a shallow scent of summer flowers and autumn leaves, a scent that must have been but a ghost of a once powerful fragrance, probably diluted into too much cheap alcohol to make it last longer. He wasn’t one to mind a woman’s smell much - if he had, he believed the number of women he had claimed would be divided by a few digits. But Fanny smelled nice. Nothing strong, nor intoxicating. Just a subtle smell in the background that didn’t speak to him directly, just whispered quiet words of comfort and peace, a discreet companion that had followed in their steps. He had only noticed the smell when she had left at the arm of her brother.
The dark-haired woman giggled as she wrapped her legs around his hips and he sat her down on the chest of drawers in the small room. Dimly lit by a few candles, probably less clean than it ought to be, filled with the noises coming from the other rooms - sounds that would soon echo in this room from the inside. He bunched her skirt high enough, fiddled with the laces that kept his trousers tight around his waist, bit his sharp teeth into the juncture of her neck. He groaned against her ebony skin, gave his hard length a few tight pumps, and inhaled deeply just as he thrust into her. Her smell was pungent. Aggressive. A perfume to hide the lingering musk of sweat and sex she couldn’t scrub off her body between clients. He growled his pleasure through his nose, but he only breathed in through his mouth. A flicker of guilt ignited in his stomach as he rammed into her, squeezed her thighs, massaged a breast that had escaped from its flimsy prison. Guilt, because he closed his eyes, and remembered the summer flowers and autumn leaves.
Fanny. He still didn’t know why he had felt compelled to talk to her. With her cheap dress and messy hairstyle, she wasn’t like any of the women he usually chased after. It must have been her eyes. Or her mouth. Her smile.
He slipped his hands under her bottom and lifted her up from the chest, wavered back on his feet and crashed over her, they bodies collapsing on a hard mattress covered with a moth-eaten duvet. He hurried to lift her legs and lock them across his shoulders, heavy pants flowing out of his mouth, thrusting his hips harder, faster.
Her smile. Shy and embarrassed, with that twinge of cute. He had never qualified a smile, much less a woman, with that word. He liked flirtatious, eager, hungry. He liked the smiles that spoke of a desire to bend before him and surrender some dignity to him, that spoke of a need to feel him take and give, but mostly take. And he took them. He took those smiling lips, and filled their mouths, he took those women, and filled them whole. But Fanny. It was just a smile. A cute smile. And he had no desire to take that smile away from her face. Had no other desire than to see her smile again, and hear her laugh again. There had been something unfathomable about the merry song that her voice had carried to his ears when he had told her the story of the fat Italian duchess who had tripped over her coat and fell head-first into a murky pond. Some kind of innocent amusement, an almost childish glee that didn’t deprive the sound of its beauty. That didn’t deprive her of her beauty. Deep whiskey eyes that sparkled more than the most expensive of champagnes, that shone more than a scorching Italian sun at its zenith, that spoke of her joy better than her words had. And her voice…
“I not know Italian men was so…” the prostitute started to say between choked gasps as he folded tighter over her, the loud and quick slap of flesh against flesh almost drowning her words.
“Sta’ zitta, puttana,” he grunted, wiping a bead of sweat rolling down his nose on his sleeve.
“Wh…”
“Shut up,” he clarified - and he brought fingers between they bodies to rub against her bud, hoping that would be enough to steal whatever words she had left on her tongue. “When you come, say my name. Only my name. Casanova.”
Casanova. He didn’t want to be a Casanova to Fanny. He wanted to be a Giacomo. Casanova was the side of him he would keep out of her sight for as long as she would allow him to, for as long as he would be able to. He shouldn’t be scared of who he was. The life he was leading, he had chosen. He wanted the women, he wanted the sex, he wanted the freedom, sod the decency, sod the decorum, sod the rules. Nothing wrong about enjoying the simple and too-rare pleasures life brought with it, and certainly nothing wrong about sharing those pleasures with consenting women who spread their thighs and opened their mouth at any given chance. Some enjoyed strong liquor, Cuban cigars and games. He enjoyed sex. It was an addiction just like any other addiction, except sex had never hurt or killed anyone before - not to his knowledge, and most certainly not when he was in charge.
So why was he terrified at the thought of Fanny finding out about Casanova when he believed he was just as nice a gentleman as Giacomo, he could only guess. Probably because he knew she had liked him. How she had confided in him, how she had leant almost imperceptibly against him when they had sat on that stone bench under a willow tree, how her voice and smiles had grown more confident, more open, as if she already trusted him like a dear friend. She had liked him, and he had liked her. She had been honest, he had lied all along. Giacomo, the wealthy dress trader on a business trip to England. He should have been honest too.
“Casanova,” the dark-skinned woman writhed under him and he winced when her nails scraped red paths down the skin of his thighs.
Casanova, yes, the bankrupt libertine on a quest for British women to add to his prize list. That would have been honest. As honest as a slap in the face and a kick in the loins. And just as painful, because he would have had to wave his sweet Fanny goodbye. Sweet Fanny. Sweet, innocent, virgin Fanny.
His eyes shot open and he stared at the woman under him. Black eyes, black skin. He licked her calf and let the taste of her body oil fill his mouth, her strong smell invade his nose.
“Parla,” he ordered through a heavy groan, slamming his hips hard against her, chasing after a completion that wouldn’t come if he kept the fair hair, the summer flowers, the smile, the laugh and the voice in his head. “Speak. Presto, speak.”
She did. Each coarse words leaving her mouth fueled his desire, incentives that made his pleasure boil, curses that gnawed dents in the tight coil settled deep in his abdomen. He bit his tongue and stared at her face, flared his nostrils to breathe in more of her scent, and pounded into her wet heat until the ravenous waves of his orgasm finally swept it all away. It took one flutter of his eyelids. Just as his release hit. One flutter, and he saw her face, a fleeting image of fair hair, a breath of flowers, a ghost of a laugh ringing in his ears.
“Cazzo,” he moaned loudly, letting her legs fall to the side as he pushed himself away from her. “Sono fottuto.”
“No good?” she asked - and he saw the fear in her eyes that she wouldn’t get the tip she needed to live. “Again?”
“No, it’s not you, bella,” she shook his head as he reached inside his pocket to take out another note. “There. Go. Grazie.”
He waited until she was gone to lock the door and divest himself of the clothes he hadn’t managed to take off, damp with sweat and more wrinkled than they were supposed to be. It fell at his feet. A light pink lily she had picked up in the gardens and given him with a smile, proud to have thieved it from a bed of flowers. He remembered it was a symbol a devotion, though he doubted she was aware of the fact when she had tucked it behind his ear, pretexting its colours matched the one of his ribbon rather well. He remembered it was also a symbol of death. That flower bore way too deep and eloquent meanings he didn’t want to dwell on in that moment. He put the lily atop the pile of fresh clothes he had retrieved from his bag and fled in the modest bathroom, dipped his too tall body in the water of the rudimentary tub. The wood felt viscous under his skin, the water felt too cold, the soap smelled of rotten earth, but still. It was nice. He closed his eyes, and he saw her again.
“Who are you?” he murmured to himself before he submerged his head between his knees.
***
“Who is he?”
She blushed a little and whacked his arm when she realized he was wiggling his eyebrows and grinning from ear to ear.
“An Italian dressmaker, or so he told me,” she sighed, the way their joined hands were swinging back and forth as they walked losing a bit of its fervour. “I know he goes by the name of Giacomo, but he wouldn’t tell me his full name.”
“Italian? Careful there, Fanny,” her brother warned her with a tut. “I have heard of Italian men, they don’t have the best reputation around.”
“Well, he was nice,” she shrugged, discreetly hiding the lily she’d been holding between her fingers in a fold of her tunic. “He was more of a gentleman to me than you could ever be to any woman, if you must know.”
“Did he try to kiss you?”
“For Heaven’s sake, William, he didn’t even try to hold my hand. We just sat on a bench and talked. As friends. That man must be riding his horse on a path of gold and diamonds. He sold a dress to Lady Edwards for a hundred and twenty pounds, can you imagine?”
“What does this have to do with being just friends?” he raised an eyebrow, helping her to lift her dress when they reached a thin stream of water hidden among the blades of grass.
“He,’ she continued as she hopped over the stream, “was obviously looking for a British wife to invest part of his fortune. With me, the best thing he can spend his money on is a village corner shop that sells rags. Open your eyes, William. I know you want me to find a good man, but Giacomo is exactly the kind of man I cannot have. I appreciate your faith in me, but I’d appreciate it more if you didn’t try to feed me dreams. I have dreams of my own, and they don’t involve money or social rank, thank you.”
“Fanny, you know I just want your happiness,” he smiled, poking her rib with a fingertip. “And from where I was standing, believe me, that Giacomo really seemed to want more than a friendship with you, gold or not. You want to know the best?”
“What, he came to ask you for your blessing?” she groaned, swatting his hand away from her.
“No, no he didn’t. I wouldn’t have given it anyway. No, the best thing was… That was the first time I saw you smile since Edmund left for Peterborough. And that Italian tailor smiled more than you did. That has to mean something, hasn’t it? Did he want to see you again?”
The small blush tinting her cheeks turned to a full fire of red that swallowed her face at the unexpected question. She nibbled her lip to hide her smile, and realized her brother might have been right about the smiles. The more she thought of Giacomo, the brighter it grew. Still, she believed she had a chance with him just as much as she had a chance at becoming Queen of the country. He was not yet a friend, but he would probably be if they kept meeting. He was not yet a potential husband, but he would probably never be even if they kept meeting. She was Fanny price. Just Fanny Price. He was Giacomo. Kind, handsome, and offensively rich Giacomo. She had learnt a long time ago it was no use building fantasies on mere wishful thinking. She wasn’t even tempted to imagine what could happen beyond the day that would follow. She knew there would be more smiles, because he could make her smile like no one else. More laughing, because he was good-natured and accessible enough to enjoy his humour and farces. But no more wild heartbeat in her chest and knots in her stomach. No more lies in her head. That day, she had let herself believe because she had been caught off-guard. The day later, she would be prepared.
“He invited me,” she mumbled uneasily, fiddling with the fake ring around her middle finger. “Tomorrow, middle of the afternoon. Probably to another tea party.”
“Ah, see?” William smiled - and she had to roll her eyes at the excited pride in his voice.
“Because he doesn’t know anyone and didn’t want to go alone,” she added with a shrug. “William, please, don’t make it what it isn’t. Look at what stands before you, look at where Giacomo will see me tomorrow, and tell me he will not want to run away from this chaos. At Mansfield Park, with a nice dress, I might have had an opportunity like I had with Mr. Crawford. Here, in Portsmouth, there is nothing for him to find. Especially not someone like me.”
“Fine, I won’t annoy you any longer with Giacomo,” he nodded before he pressed a tender kiss on her temple. “But should anything happen, remember I want to meet him first. He can be rich and noble, but that doesn’t make him a good gentleman for my sweet sister.”
***
Sweet Fanny. He wasn’t rich, nor noble, and he most definitely wasn’t a good gentleman for such a delicate woman. But he wanted to believe. Believe she would see him for who he was, for Giacomo, and forgive him for his sins and his lies. Forgive Casanova. He wasn’t ready to ask for forgiveness, and he wasn’t ready to let Casanova go. Yet.
He blew out the quivering flame of the candles and slipped under the thin cover.
He could have gone downstairs to pay for another prostitute, but he had spent all his money already, both the savings he had brought in his luggage and the notes he had tricked that man into giving him for a smile. He could have ignored it altogether and slept through it, if that face didn’t haunt him everytime he closed his eyes. He had faced this situation many times before and dealt with it easily, quickly. This time would be just as easy, if not more, but it wouldn’t be quick. He didn’t want it to be quick.
He snatched a rag from the bedside table, trailed his fingers down his naked torso under the cover, stopped when they reached the coarse hair at the juncture of his legs. He just wanted to make sure guilt wouldn’t crush him. He brushed a fingertip against the base of his hard length, thought of her face, of the breasts he imagined to be firm and responsive under his hands, and let a groan roll up his throat. No guilt. Of course, he wouldn’t feel guilty. That desire might have been the only truth he allowed himself to confess. The only truth he knew he couldn’t feel guilty about, because it was pure, honest, fierce. He, Giacomo, desired Fanny. It wasn’t Casanova who wrapped his hand around his erection and teased his head. It was him. Just him. He smelled the summer flowers again, saw her smile, heard her laugh. He let his pleasure build, slowly, gentle strokes when he was used to hard squeezes, sensual and erotic images of an almost fully clothed Fanny when he was used to unimpassioned sexual pictures of faceless women spreading their legs, a simmering passion in his loins when he was used to a roaring fire. Soft gasps and words he wished he would get to whisper in her ear one day, when he was used to loud and animalistic groans and grunts. It had been a long time since he’d really enjoy masturbating, even longer since he’d made it last long enough for his erection to grow almost painful. Shots after shots of heat rushing through his blood, brought by thoughts and feelings all aimed at the fair-haired woman he had met that day, until it became to much.
He splayed his rag over his stomach and set his imagination free. His fingers pumped harder, faster, gathering his moisture so the hot and hard friction wouldn’t hurt as much. He dared to imagine the tip of his tongue lapping at her nipple through that beige dress and a raspy grunt fell from his lips. His hips rutted, once, twice, his back arched from the bed, and for the second time that day, he thought of Fanny Price as he released his passion over his fingers and his rag.
He made a quick job at wiping the evidence of what he thought to be a mere infatuation that would die soon enough. But then he turned on his side, nestled his face in the uncomfortable pillow, and he smelled the summer flowers again.
“Who are you?” he whispered in the dark, eyes wide-open captivated by the curls of blond hair and the smile that floated before the window. “What have you done to me, Fanny Price?”
