30s, Kelly She/Her. Momma 1stš Reader, music lover. WWE. Tama Tonga, Talla and Tanga! Pagano!!!!CM Punkš, Cody Rhodes, John Cena, Randy Orton, Roman, THE USOS, Solooooo!!!!!! The mom friendš Yes I write. 18+ most times. MDNI!!!!!!!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
ā Live Streamingā Interactive Chatā Private Showsā HD Qualityā Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
ā Live Streamingā Interactive Chatā Private Showsā HD Qualityā Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
ā Live Streamingā Interactive Chatā Private Showsā HD Qualityā Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Iāve been reading fanfics literally since i was like 10 years old. Ive read fics from fandoms that iām not even apart ofāand dont understand anything theyāre referring to but the authors are THAT good. Iāve wholeheartedly read fics on here that are better than some traditionally published novels.
I genuinely look forward to coming on here and seeing what my favorite writers have come up with because it brings me so much joy reading and interacting with everyone.
But then i go to write my fics and itās like in the back of my head a little voice telling me that what Iām doing is strange and wrong, like i feel guilty in a sense and itās fucking annoying. I donāt and wonāt ever judge any other person for writing fic because it takes a true creative to be able to see something and develop a whole new world from little bits and pieces that youāre givenā¦
Every movie Iāve ever watched, every story Iāve ever read, any song Iāve ever heard, Iām able to come up with some sort of alternative story.
Iāve said it multiple times that the face claim on my fics could be any person because Iām able to change and adapt stories in my head no matter the circumstances.
I started writing as exposure therapy because one of my life goals is to write a book one day but am i gonna feel crazy anytime i open my computer?!?!? Is this impostor syndrome?? Like wtf.
Iāve been considering writing only oc stories but then Iām like well i need source material and it all goes back to how my thoughts started. Idk⦠itās all word salad atp.
I can only do OCs. And ever since I could have thoughts, I was making up stories in my head. Frim an AU of my favorite movies, to things from my favorite books.
I write ocs bc they're who I *wish* I was. They also have some of the experiences I've had. Or they have experiences that I've been afraid of.
Anyways. Yes. It's like imposter syndrome
I have it BIG TIME. Especially being lucky enough to count @trippinsorrows and @uceyliyahh as my friends on here, and @southerngirl41 as a friend that has gone past just Tumblr. š¤š«¶š»
I also take inspiration from THEM.
Trust me. You're not alone in feeling that way! š¤š«¶š»
this is exceptionally kind of you to say @xnightmarexpunkx š„ŗ i wish more people on this site could be kind like you. š„ŗš«¶š¼
now as far as you, babe, @youluvego , you are exactly where you're supposed to be. writing, especially writing fanfics, can be intimidating for sure. can even feel weird. i can't remember if you said this is your first time sharing your writing online or on here, but to be as talented as you are, it'd be a shame and a sin for you to second guess yourself.
but original or fanfic, you post it, imma eat it up. talent is talent.
This is very kind from both of you and i really do appreciate it. Not only is it my first time posting but itās my first time ever even putting my thoughts into words. The first anything i ever wrote was the one shot āappreciationā (we wonāt talk about my first ever fic being smut LMAO).
Finally taking all my silly little thoughts and writing them out feels vulnerable in a way and I think itās something iām just getting used to!
This story was requested by @isabella-2025. It's my first Finn story. Hopefully, there will be more in the future. Thanks to @trippinsorrows for helping me figure out my posting issue.
A kingdom can shatter in a single heartbeat. Prince Finn learned this the morning he became the head of his family at forty-three. He had been prepared to inherit the throne one day, naturally. His father had spent years teaching him about diplomacy, duty, and the strange art of smiling politely while foreign ministers argued over fishing rights.
But Finn had expected more time. More breakfasts with his father, seated at the head of the long dining table, quietly reading the morning paper. More evenings in the royal study, sharing a glass of whiskey while King Fergal pretended not to know that Finn occasionally escaped the palace on his motorcycle.
More chances to ask questions, he had always assumed, could wait. Then, on a cold January morning, the kingās heart stopped. And the entire kingdom seemed to stop with it.
Finn stood beside his fatherās coffin in a black military uniform, his shoulders rigid while thousands of mourners lined the streets outside the cathedral. Cameras watched every movement. Reporters studied every flicker of emotion.
He did not cry. Not publicly.
He bowed his head when the bells rang. He comforted his stepmother, Queen Maeve, though her grief had left her barely able to stand. He shook hands with diplomats and accepted condolences from people whose names he would never remember.
And when his younger siblings looked to him, Finn held himself together. Princess Niamh was thirteen and furious at the world. Prince Callum was nine and had stopped speaking almost entirely.
Little Princess Orla was only five. She did not understand why their father had gone away or why everyone kept telling her he was somewhere better. She only understood that he had promised to teach her how to ride a bicycle in the spring. By March, the palace had become a beautiful disaster.
Niamh had been suspended from school after throwing a book at another student. Callum had begun hiding beneath tables whenever strangers entered the room. Orla refused to sleep unless someone sat beside her bed. Queen Maeve had left for a private treatment center in Switzerland, overwhelmed by grief and exhaustion.
And Finn was trying to prepare for his coronation while raising three children who were slowly falling apart. His private secretary, Declan, entered Finnās office one rainy afternoon carrying a folder thick enough to stun a burglar. Finn glanced at it with immediate suspicion.
āNo.ā
Declan stopped in front of the desk. āI havenāt said anything yet.ā
āYouāre carrying paperwork.ā
āI frequently carry paperwork.ā
āThat folder has colored tabs.ā
Declan looked down at it. āYou find colored tabs threatening?ā
āDeeply.ā
Declan placed the folder on Finnās desk. āThese are candidates for the royal nanny position.ā
Finn leaned back in his chair. āWe donāt need a nanny.ā
From somewhere down the corridor came a crash, followed by Niamh shouting, āI didnāt break it! It was already leaning like that!ā
Finn closed his eyes. Declan waited. A second voice, belonging to one of the footmen, cried, āYour Highness, that vase survived three wars!ā
Finn opened his eyes again. Declan slid the folder closer.
āYou need a nanny.ā
āI need silence.ā
āThe nanny may be able to arrange that.ā
Finn picked up the folder reluctantly. āWho are these people?ā
āAnyone who knows how to survive flying books?ā
āThere is one former rugby player.ā
Finn almost considered her.
He flipped through the applications, barely seeing the polished photographs and lengthy credentials. Every candidate looked formal, perfectly composed, and absolutely terrified of children. Then he reached the final application. The photograph showed a woman with warm brown eyes, dark curls framing her face, and a smile that did not appear rehearsed.
Isabella Bennett. Thirty-six years old. Former primary school teacher.
Experience working with grieving children. Fluent in French and Italian. Certified in pediatric first aid.
Finn read the handwritten note attached to her application.
Children do not need perfect adults. They need adults who stay. Finn read those words over and over, feeling them echo against the sharp ache in his own chest. The idea lingered in his mind through the uncertain days that followed. He wondered if staying, even through grief and doubt, was the only true promise he could makeāto his siblings, and perhaps, one day, to himself.
Something in his chest tightened.
āInterview her,ā he said.
Declanās eyebrows lifted. āOnly her?ā
Finn closed the folder.
āOnly her.ā
Isabella arrived at Briarcliff Palace two days later wearing a navy dress, sensible shoes, and the expression of a woman determined not to be intimidated by three hundred rooms and several centuries of royal history. A palace guard led her through a marble entrance hall large enough to host a concert. Portraits of stern monarchs glared down at her from gilded frames. Isabella glanced at one particularly severe-looking king.
āIām sure you were delightful at parties,ā she murmured.
The guard coughed, attempting to hide a laugh.
She was escorted to a sitting room where Prince Finn stood near the window, staring out over the palace gardens. He turned when she entered. Isabella had seen him in newspapers and on television, of course. The photographs had not captured the exhaustion beneath his eyes. Nor had they captured how imposing he was. He wore black trousers and a dark sweater instead of a formal suit. His hair was neatly trimmed, his beard carefully groomed, but there was something untamed in his expression.
A storm wearing a crown, she thought.
āMiss Bennett,ā he said.
āYour Royal Highness.ā
She dipped into a polite curtsy.
āYou donāt have to do that every time you see me.ā
āThatās good. My knees arenāt built for repeated diplomacy.ā
His mouth twitched.
Not quite a smile, but close.
Finn gestured toward a chair. āPlease.ā
They sat across from each other.
He studied her application. āYou taught for twelve years.ā
āYes.ā
āWhy did you leave?ā
āMy mother became ill. I moved home to care for her.ā
āIām sorry.ā
āThank you.ā
Finn looked down at the paper again. āYour mother passed away eighteen months ago.ā
āShe did.ā
āAnd now you want to become a nanny?ā
āI want to work with children again.ā
āMy siblings are not ordinary children.ā
āBecause theyāre royal?ā
āBecause theyāve been through something no child should have to experience.ā
Isabellaās expression softened.
Finn continued before she could offer him sympathy.
āNiamh is angry. Callum barely speaks. Orla believes our father is coming home.ā
āAnd you?ā
Finn frowned. āWhat about me?ā
āHow are you handling your fatherās death?ā
The room went silent.
No one asked him that.
People asked about the coronation.
They asked about the stability of the monarchy.
They asked whether he planned to marry.
No one asked how he was handling the loss of his father.
āThat isnāt relevant to the position,ā he said.
āWith respect, Your Royal Highness, it is.ā
His eyes sharpened.
Isabella remained calm.
āChildren feel the emotions adults try to hide,ā she explained. āYour siblings are grieving, but theyāre also watching you. If you act as though sadness is something shameful, they may believe they have to hide theirs too.ā
āYouāve been in the palace for seven minutes.ā
āI was thinking constipated, emotionally speaking.ā
Finn stared at her.
Isabellaās heart hammered, but she held his gaze.
Then, unexpectedly, he laughed.
It was brief and rough, as though the sound had not been used in months.
āYou are either extremely brave,ā he said, āor you have no sense of self-preservation.ā
āA little of both.ā
The sitting room door flew open.
A small girl in a pink nightgown rushed inside, clutching a stuffed rabbit by one ear.
āFinn!ā
Orla ran directly to him.
He caught her and lifted her into his arms.
āWhat happened, love?ā
āI had the dream again.ā
Her lower lip trembled.
Finn held her against his chest. āYouāre safe.ā
Orla noticed Isabella over his shoulder.
āWho are you?ā
āIām Isabella.ā
āAre you another doctor?ā
āNo.ā
āA teacher?ā
āI used to be.ā
Orla narrowed her eyes. āAre you here because Iām bad?ā
Finnās face changed.
Pain flashed across it so quickly that another person might have missed it.
Isabella did not.
She stood and approached slowly.
āNo,ā she said. āIām here because things have been difficult, and sometimes families need an extra pair of hands.ā
Orla considered this.
āCan you braid hair?ā
āI can.ā
āCan you make pancakes shaped like dragons?ā
āIāve never tried.ā
āThat means no.ā
āThat means we may accidentally create pancakes shaped like potatoes.ā
Orla looked at Finn. āI like her.ā
Finn glanced at Isabella.
āSo do I,ā he said quietly.
She got the job that afternoon.
Her first week at Briarcliff Palace nearly destroyed her. The emotional weight of caring for three grieving children pressed on her shoulders, while the maze of royal rules and constant scrutiny from palace staff left her drained. Every day, she battled her own self-doubt, wondering if she could truly reach the siblings who shut her out or forgive herself for every small mistake. Each night, loneliness curled around her as she tried to settle into a home that was not yet hers. Niamh refused to attend breakfast. Callum locked himself in the library. Orla poured strawberry syrup into one of the grand pianos because she believed the instrument looked hungry. Isabella discovered that royal children were remarkably similar to other children, except their tantrums occasionally damaged historically significant furniture. On her fourth morning, she found Niamh sitting on the kitchen counter, eating chocolate cake directly from the serving tray.
āYou arenāt supposed to be in here,ā Niamh said.
āNeither are you.ā
āIām a princess.ā
āIām holding the key to the pantry.ā
Niamh froze with the fork halfway to her mouth.
Isabella leaned against the counter.
āRough morning?ā
āI hate my school.ā
āWhy?ā
āEveryone stares at me.ā
āThey probably donāt know what to say.ā
āI donāt want them to say anything.ā
āThatās fair.ā
Niamh studied her suspiciously. āYouāre not going to tell Finn about the cake?ā
āI might.ā
āThatās blackmail.ā
āThatās accountability wearing a nice blouse.ā
Niamh almost smiled.
Isabella picked up a second fork.
āMove over.ā
They ate cake in silence until Niamh whispered, āMy father used to let me have dessert for breakfast on my birthday.ā
Isabella rested her fork on the tray.
āThat sounds like an excellent tradition.ā
āHe said rules were important, but sometimes joy was more important.ā
āHe sounds wise.ā
āHe was.ā
The word broke apart in Niamhās mouth.
Isabella did not offer hollow reassurance. She did not say everything happened for a reason or that time healed all wounds.
She simply sat beside her.
After a moment, Niamh leaned her head against Isabellaās shoulder. Across the kitchen, Finn stood unnoticed in the doorway. He had been searching for his sister for twenty minutes. Instead of interrupting, he stepped back into the corridor. Something warm and painful moved through his chest. During Isabellaās second week, Callum spoke to her for the first time. She found him beneath the dining table during a state luncheon, his knees pulled to his chest while ambassadors and dignitaries searched the palace. Isabella crawled underneath and sat beside him. He did not look at her.
āYouāre missing lunch,ā she said.
Silence.
āThere are tiny sandwiches.ā
Nothing.
āThey cut the crusts off.ā
Callum picked at the carpet.
Isabella lowered her voice. āToo many people?ā
He nodded.
āAll of them are asking how youāre feeling?ā
Another nod.
āThat would annoy me too.ā
Callum glanced at her.
āAdults ask questions when theyāre afraid of silence,ā Isabella said. āThey think they have to fill every empty space.ā
āThey lie.ā
His voice was so quiet she almost missed it.
āSometimes.ā
āThey say Papa is watching us.ā
Isabella swallowed.
āWhat do you think?ā
āI think heās gone.ā
āI think so too.ā
Callumās eyes filled with tears. āFinn says Papa would want me to be brave.ā
āBeing brave doesnāt mean pretending you arenāt sad.ā
āWhat does it mean?ā
āIt means being sad and still letting someone sit beside you.ā
Callum leaned against her arm.
They remained beneath the table until the luncheon ended. By the end of the first month, Orla was sleeping through most nights. Callum had begun speaking during family meals. Niamh returned to school with the agreement that she could call Isabella whenever things became overwhelming.
And Finn began coming home earlier. At first, he told himself it was because the palace had become more organized. Then he claimed it was because his siblings needed him. The truth was more complicated.
He liked hearing Isabellaās laughter echo through the halls. He liked finding her in the kitchen, teaching Orla how to decorate biscuits while flour covered every available surface. He liked the way she challenged him when he became too strict.
āYou cannot cancel Niamhās riding lesson because she forgot one homework assignment,ā Isabella told him one evening.
āShe needs consequences.ā
āShe needs balance.ā
āShe needs discipline.ā
āShe needs a brother, Finn.ā
The use of his name startled him.
Everyone now calls him Your Royal Highness. Ministers called him Sir. Staff members called him Your Highness. The press called him the future king.
Isabella called him Finn. And somehow, when she said it, he remembered he had been a man before he became an institution.
Months passed. Spring painted the palace grounds with wildflowers. Finnās coronation approached, bringing endless meetings, fittings, ceremonies, and rehearsals. Through it all, Isabella remained the calm center of their household. She helped Orla learn to ride the bicycle that their father had promised to teach her.
Finn watched from the terrace as Isabella ran behind the little girl, one hand gripping the back of the seat.
āDonāt let go!ā Orla screamed.
āIām right here!ā
āYou promise?ā
āI promise.ā
Isabella released the bicycle.
Orla pedaled across the lawn by herself, shrieking with joy. Finn clapped as she circled the fountain. When Orla finally stopped, she threw herself into his arms.
āI did it!ā
āYou did.ā
āIsabella let go, but I didnāt fall!ā
Finn looked over Orlaās head. Isabella stood several feet away, breathless and smiling. For one reckless moment, he imagined her there years from now. Standing beside him during summer evenings.
Laughing with the children. Belonging to the palace. Belonging to him. The thought frightened him enough that he looked away. That evening, after the children were asleep, Finn found Isabella sitting alone on the garden steps. She held a cup of tea between both hands.
āYou should be inside,ā he said. āItās cold.ā
āSo should you.ā
He sat beside her.
For a while, neither spoke. The palace windows glowed behind them.
āMy father loved this garden,ā Finn said eventually. āHe planted those roses with my mother before she died.ā
āI didnāt know.ā
āHe kept them alive after she was gone. Even when he became ill.ā
Isabella looked toward the rose bushes.
āTheyāre beautiful.ā
āHe used to say grief was love with nowhere to go.ā
Her eyes lowered.
Finn studied her profile. āDo you still miss your mother?ā
āEvery day.ā
āDoes it become easier?ā
āNo.ā
The answer surprised him. Isabella turned toward him.
āBut you become stronger around it,ā she continued. āAt first, grief fills the whole room. Eventually, you build a life large enough to hold it without letting it crush everything else.ā
Finn stared into the darkness.
āI donāt know how to build that life.ā
āYou already are.ā
He looked at her.
āCallum laughs again,ā she said. āNiamh trusts you enough to argue with you. Orla talks about her father without believing she has to hide her tears. Youāre building it every day.ā
āWeāre building it.ā
The words emerged before he could stop them.
Isabellaās breath caught.
Finn could have corrected himself. He could have retreated behind his title and responsibilities. Instead, he reached over and brushed a loose curl away from her cheek. Her skin was warm beneath his fingers.
āIsabella,ā he whispered.
The air changed.
The distance between them became suddenly fragile.
Her eyes moved to his mouth. Finn leaned closer. Then a tiny voice called from behind them.
āIsabella?ā
They pulled apart.
Orla stood in the doorway, hugging her rabbit.
āI canāt sleep.ā
Isabella rose immediately. āIām coming.ā
Orla reached for her hand.
Before Isabella followed her inside, she glanced back at Finn. The unfinished moment remained between them, glowing quietly in the darkness. Finn sat alone on the garden steps long after they had gone. He had hired Isabella because his siblings needed someone to stay with them. He had not expected her to mend the broken rhythm of their family. He had not expected her to bring warmth back into rooms that had felt cold since his father died.
And he certainly had not expected to fall in love with her.
But as days had turned into weeks, and weeks had folded softly into months, Isabella had become part of every corner of his life.
Now Finn faced a truth more frightening than any royal duty. The future king had given his heart to the one woman he could not command to keep it. The palace was quieter at night.
Not truly silent, of course. Briarcliff Palace was too old for silence. Pipes groaned behind stone walls, floorboards whispered beneath careful footsteps, and the wind often slipped around the towers with the low murmur of someone telling secrets. But after the children went to bed, the vast halls settled into something peaceful. Earlier, the palace had been filled with the noise and bustle of bedtime routines, faint music drifting through corridors, and the shifting patterns of staff completing their nightly rounds. Now, as the hush deepened, the story moved from the children's quarters to a different corner of Briarcliff Palace.Ā
That evening, Finn was trapped in the west wing with his advisors, reviewing security plans for the coronation. Niamh had finished her homework without argument, Callum was reading in bed, and Orla had requested three stories, two glasses of water, and a solemn promise that dragons could not enter through locked windows.
Isabella had given her the promise. Now she stood in the palace kitchen warming milk for Callum, who had complained that he could not sleep. She wore a soft green cardigan over her dress, her curls gathered loosely at the back of her head. The kitchen staff had retired for the evening, leaving only the low hum of the refrigerators and the gentle ticking of the clock above the pantry door. Isabella poured the milk into a small silver pot.
āWorking late again?ā
She turned.
One of the royal guards stood in the doorway.
Lieutenant Marcus Hale.
He had been assigned to the palaceās interior security team several weeks earlier. Isabella had seen him stationed near the schoolroom and walking the eastern corridors, but they had never spoken beyond polite greetings.
āCallum couldnāt sleep,ā she said. āIām making him warm milk.ā
Marcus entered the kitchen.
āYouāre very devoted.ā
āTheyāre good children.ā
āThey seem fond of you.ā
Isabella gave him a brief smile, then turned back toward the stove. The guard did not leave.
Instead, he moved closer. Too close.
Isabella felt his presence behind her before she saw his reflection in the dark kitchen window. She shifted to the side.
āWas there something you needed, Lieutenant?ā
āI was about to ask you the same thing.ā
His voice had changed.
The friendliness had sharpened into something that made the back of her neck tighten.
āNo,ā Isabella said. āIām fine.ā
Marcus leaned against the counter beside her.
āYou spend nearly every evening alone.ā
āI spend them with the children.ā
āYou know what I mean.ā
Isabella reached for the wooden spoon.
āActually, I donāt.ā
He laughed under his breath.
āThe prince keeps you busy.ā
āPrince Finn is my employer.ā
āIs that all he is?ā
She looked at him.
āThat is none of your concern.ā
His smile faded slightly.
āIāve seen the way he watches you.ā
Isabella lifted the pot from the stove.
āExcuse me.ā
She moved toward the door.
Marcus stepped into her path.
Her grip tightened around the pot handle.
āPlease move.ā
āDonāt be so serious.ā
āI asked you to move.ā
He reached out and touched her waist.
Isabella froze.
The contact lasted only a moment, but it was enough. A cold, sick feeling twisted through her stomach. She stepped back quickly, nearly striking the counter.
āDo not touch me.ā
Marcus lifted his hands as though she were overreacting.
āCalm down.ā
āI said, donāt touch me.ā
āI was only being friendly.ā
āThat was not friendly.ā
She tried to move past him again.
Marcus caught her wrist.
Isabellaās breath stopped.
āLet go of me.ā
āIsabella.ā
āLet go.ā
A voice thundered from the doorway.
āRemove your hand.ā
Marcus released her instantly.
Finn stood at the kitchen entrance.
He had removed his suit jacket, but the rest of him was still dressed for his council meeting. His white shirt sleeves were rolled to his forearms, and his dark tie hung loose around his neck. His expression was terrifyingly calm. Isabella had seen Finn angry before. She had seen him frustrated by politicians, irritated by newspaper stories, and furious when Niamhās school failed to protect her privacy.
This was different. This was the stillness before lightning struck. Marcus straightened.
āYour Royal Highness.ā
Finn walked into the kitchen. His eyes went first to Isabellaās wrist. Then to her face. She must have looked shaken, because his expression hardened further. He moved between them without hesitation.
āWhat happened?ā
Marcus began speaking immediately.
āIt was a misunderstanding, Sir.ā
Finn did not look at him.
He kept his eyes on Isabella.
āI asked her a question,ā Marcus continued. āShe became upset.ā
Finnās voice was low.
āI was not asking you.ā
Marcus fell silent.
Finn turned slightly toward Isabella, carefully keeping himself between her and the guard.
āWhat happened?ā
Isabella opened her mouth, but no words came. Her heart was pounding so hard that she could hear it. Finnās anger softened the moment he saw her struggle.
āYou are safe,ā he said quietly. āTake your time.ā
She swallowed.
āHe came into the kitchen.ā
Finn waited.
āHe started asking me personal questions.ā
Marcus shifted behind him.
Isabella stared at the floor.
āI tried to leave, but he blocked the door.ā
Finnās jaw tightened.
āHe touched my waist.ā
The kitchen became deathly quiet.
āAnd when I tried to walk away, he grabbed my wrist.ā
Finn slowly turned toward Marcus.
The guardās face had gone pale.
āIs that true?ā
Marcus shook his head.
āSir, sheās making it sound worse than it was.ā
Finn took one step forward. Marcus immediately stepped back.
āShe said no.ā
āI didnāt hurt her.ā
āShe told you not to touch her.ā
āIt was nothing.ā
Finnās voice sharpened.
āIt was nothing.ā
Marcus glanced toward Isabella.
āI was only flirting.ā
Finn moved again, blocking his view of her.
āDo not look at her.ā
āSir.ā
āYou used your position to corner a woman who should have been safe in this palace.ā
Marcus lowered his voice.
āI made a mistake.ā
āA mistake is entering the wrong room. A mistake is misreading a schedule.ā
Finn pointed toward Isabella.
āShe told you to move, and you refused. She told you not to touch her, and you grabbed her.ā
Marcus stood rigidly.
Finnās eyes burned.
āYou crossed a line that should never have required explanation.ā
āI apologize.ā
āYou will not address her.ā
Finn stepped closer.
āYou will not speak to her. You will not approach her. You will not enter any room where she is alone.ā
Marcus swallowed.
āUnderstood.ā
āNo,ā Finn said. āI donāt believe you do.ā
He turned toward the hall.
āGuard!ā
Two officers appeared almost immediately. Finnās tone became formal.
āLieutenant Hale is relieved of duty. Remove his weapon and escort him to the east security office.ā
Marcus stared at him.
āSir, please.ā
āThere will be an investigation.ā
āMy career will be destroyed.ā
Finn looked at him coldly.
āYou should have considered that before you placed your hands on someone without permission.ā
The officers approached Marcus. He glanced toward Isabella once more. Finn stepped directly into his path.
āYou will leave this kitchen without looking at her again.ā
Marcusās shoulders dropped. The officers removed his ceremonial sword and escorted him away. The door closed. For several seconds, Finn remained facing it. His fists were clenched at his sides. Then he turned toward Isabella. The fury disappeared from his face almost instantly. What replaced it was concern.
āAre you hurt?ā
She shook her head.
āI donāt think so.ā
Finn glanced at her wrist. A faint red mark had begun to appear where Marcus had grabbed her. His mouth tightened.
āMay I see?ā
The question caught her off guard. He did not reach for her. He waited. Isabella slowly held out her arm. Finn examined the mark without touching it.
āIāll call the physician.ā
āThat isnāt necessary.ā
āIt may bruise.ā
āFinn.ā
He looked up.
āIām all right.ā
He searched her face.
āYou are not all right.ā
The gentleness in his voice nearly broke her.
Isabella blinked quickly.
āI should take Callum his milk.ā
Finn looked toward the pot sitting forgotten on the counter.
āThe milk can wait.ā
āHe needs me.ā
āSo do you.ā
Her lips parted.
Finn moved closer, but stopped before entering her space.
āMay I touch you?ā
Isabellaās throat tightened. The fact that he asked, so soon after someone else had taken that choice away from her, made tears sting her eyes. She nodded. Finn placed his hands gently on her shoulders. Nothing more. His touch was careful and steady.
āYou did nothing wrong,ā he said.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
āI should have called for help sooner.ā
āNo.ā
āI should have shouted.ā
āNo, Isabella.ā
āI froze.ā
Finnās voice became firmer.
āYou do not have to defend the way you survived a frightening moment.ā
She lowered her head.
āHe made me feel foolish.ā
āHe should feel ashamed.ā
āI didnāt want trouble.ā
āYou did not create trouble. He did.ā
Finn lifted one hand from her shoulder and slowly brushed the tear from her cheek. His thumb barely touched her skin.
āI brought you into this palace,ā he said. āI promised you that you would be protected here.ā
āYou never promised me that.ā
āI promised myself.ā
She looked at him. Pain shadowed his expression.
āI saw your face when I entered the kitchen,ā he continued. āFor one second, you looked frightened of this place.ā
āI wasnāt frightened of the palace.ā
āBut you were frightened.ā
āYes.ā
Finn exhaled slowly.
āI should have reached you sooner.ā
āYou couldnāt have known.ā
āI should have.ā
āFinn, you cannot be in every room.ā
āI can make certain the people guarding those rooms are worthy of the responsibility.ā
Isabellaās voice softened.
āWhat will happen to him?ā
āThere will be an official investigation. He will be suspended immediately. You may provide a statement when you are ready.ā
She hesitated.
āDo I have to?ā
āNo.ā
Finn answered without pause.
āNo one will force you to speak before you are ready. No one will question you alone. You may have me, Declan, or another person you trust present.ā
āWonāt people talk?ā
āLet them.ā
āThe newspapers may hear about it.ā
āThen the newspapers will report that a royal guard violated palace conduct and was removed.ā
āThey may blame me.ā
Finnās eyes darkened again.
āThen they will answer to me.ā
She gave a shaky laugh.
āYou cannot fight every newspaper in the kingdom.ā
āI can make a respectable attempt.ā
The faint smile that crossed her face eased something inside him.
Finn lowered his hands.
āWould you like me to call Niamh?ā
āNiamh?ā
āShe trusts you. And she has expressed a strong desire to throw something at nearly every guard in the palace.ā
Despite herself, Isabella laughed.
Finnās mouth curved.
āThere she is.ā
āWho?ā
āYou.ā
The room became quieter. The fear had not vanished, but the air no longer felt suffocating. Finn took the pot from the counter.
āIāll bring this to Callum.ā
āYou?ā
āI am capable of carrying milk.ā
āYou once burned tea.ā
āThat kettle was defective.ā
āYou placed it on the stove without water.ā
āA design flaw.ā
Isabella wiped her cheek.
āCallum likes honey in it.ā
āHow much?ā
āOne spoon.ā
Finn picked up a spoon.
āThat is a ridiculous amount of honey.ā
āHeās nine.ā
āHe has royal teeth.ā
She smiled again.
Finn poured the milk into a cup, then paused.
āIsabella.ā
āYes?ā
āIf you would prefer to leave the palace tonight, I will arrange it.ā
Her expression changed.
āDo you want me to leave?ā
āNo.ā
The answer came too quickly.
Finn steadied himself.
āNo,ā he repeated more softly. āBut I want you to choose what makes you feel safest.ā
Isabella looked around the kitchen. At the warm lights. At the milk prepared for Callum. Finn was standing in front of her with concern written across every line of his face.
āI want to stay.ā
Finnās shoulders loosened.
āThen you will stay.ā
He carried the cup toward the door.
Isabella followed, but stopped when he turned back.
āOne more thing,ā Finn said.
āWhat?ā
āYou will not walk through the palace alone tonight.ā
āIām not helpless.ā
āI know.ā
āThen why?ā
āBecause protection is not an insult.ā
She studied him.
āAnd who is supposed to escort me?ā
Finn held out his hand.
āThe prince.ā
Her eyes dropped to his palm. Then she placed her hand in his. Finnās fingers closed gently around hers. Together, they walked through the dark palace corridors toward the childrenās rooms. When they reached Callumās door, Finn stopped.
āI meant what I said.ā
āAbout the investigation?ā
āAbout all of it.ā
His thumb moved once across the back of her hand.
āYou did nothing wrong.ā
Isabella nodded.
Finnās gaze held hers.
āAnd no one will ever place their hands on you in this palace again without your permission.ā
The words were not possessive. They were a vow. Isabella squeezed his hand.
āThank you.ā
Finn lifted her fingers and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. His eyes never left hers.
āYou never have to thank me for standing beside you.ā
From inside the bedroom, Callum called sleepily, āIs my milk ready?ā
Isabella and Finn pulled apart. Finn opened the door.
āYes,ā he answered. āAnd apparently it contains enough honey to bankrupt the kingdom.ā
Callum sat up in bed.
āThat was Isabellaās idea.ā
Finn glanced at her over his shoulder.
āOf course it was.ā
Isabella smiled. The evening had shaken her, but as she watched Finn sit beside his brother and test the milk to make sure it was not too hot, she felt something settle inside her. The palace no longer felt frightening. Not with Finn there. And Finn, watching Isabella tuck Callumās blanket around his shoulders, understood something with absolute certainty. His love for her was no longer quiet.It had teeth now. Not the kind that controlled or claimed. The kind that stood at the door, drew a line, and dared anyone to cross it again.
By the beginning of summer, Isabella had been living at Briarcliff Palace for nearly six months. In that time, the sharp ache of the family's loss had dulled into something quieter but still present, like a bruise just beneath the skin. The children trusted her now in different ways: Orla threw her arms around Isabella each morning, Callum waited for her opinion on each new song he learned, and even Niamh sometimes confided secrets she would not tell her friends. Finn, once remote except in crisis, now sought her out in quieter moments, his presence gentler, his laughter easier around her. The palace, unfamiliar and forbidding in those cold early days, had slowly become a place where warmth, belonging, and subtle hope began to bloom alongside the childrenās healing. The palace no longer felt like a maze of marble corridors and locked doors. It had become a home filled with familiar sounds.
Orlaās footsteps race down the hallway every morning. Callum practiced the piano, stopping whenever he made a mistake, then beginning again with stubborn determination. Niamh is arguing with her tutors as though every history lesson were a parliamentary debate.
And Finn.
Finnās voice was coming from the library late at night. Finnās laughter drifted through the garden when Orla convinced him to play hide-and-seek. Finnās quiet knock against the schoolroom door whenever he returned from his royal duties. Sometimes he claimed he was checking on his siblings.
Isabella knew better. He would enter the room, ask the children about their day, then somehow find himself standing beside her desk while she organized lesson plans.
āHow was the meeting?ā she would ask.
āUnbearable.ā
āYou say that about every meeting.ā
āBecause every meeting is unbearable.ā
āYou are going to be king.ā
āThat does not make committees less irritating.ā
Then he would remain there, speaking with her about things that had nothing to do with his schedule, the government, or the crown. He told her about the summer holidays he had taken with his father as a child. He confessed that he hated formal dances because he could never remember where to place his hands. He admitted that he sometimes rode his motorcycle beyond the palace gates simply to feel like no one knew who he was.
And Isabella listened.
She listened far too closely. She noticed the way Finn rubbed the back of his neck when he was tired. She noticed how his expression softened whenever Callum laughed. She noticed how he always made sure she had eaten, even when he skipped meals himself. Her feelings had begun as admiration.
Then admiration became affection. And affection slowly turned into something she could no longer pretend was harmless.
Isabella had a crush on the future king. Not a small one. Not the sort that could be tucked neatly away and forgotten. It had become a persistent warmth beneath her ribs, appearing every time Finn smiled at her or said her name in that low, gentle voice.
She reminded herself daily that he was her employer. She reminded herself that she had been hired to care for his siblings. She reminded herself that men like Finn married duchesses, princesses, and women whose family trees appeared in history books. They did not fall in love with nannies who occasionally burned biscuits and argued with them about bedtime.
Unfortunately, her heart had never shown much respect for logic.
One afternoon, Isabella stood inside Niamhās bedroom helping her choose a dress for the Royal Childrenās Foundation Gala. The annual event raised money for schools, hospitals, and grief counseling programs across the kingdom. It was also the first major royal event Finn would host without his father.
Niamh held up a glittering silver gown.
āToo much?ā
āMuch too much.ā
Niamh grinned. āPerfect.ā
āYou are thirteen.ā
āIām nearly fourteen.ā
āThat is still thirteen wearing ambition.ā
Orla sat on the carpet, surrounded by shoes and ribbons.
āI want to wear my crown.ā
āYou cannot wear a crown to every event,ā Niamh said.
āWhy not?ā
āBecause you look ridiculous.ā
Orla gasped.
Isabella turned toward Niamh. āApologize.ā
āShe does.ā
āNiamh.ā
Niamh sighed. āYou do not look ridiculous. You look slightly excessive.ā
Orla accepted this compromise.
A knock sounded against the open door. Finn entered wearing dark trousers and a white shirt. His jacket was draped over one arm, and his tie hung loose around his neck.
Isabellaās hands stopped moving. He had not even finished dressing, yet he already looked unfairly handsome. Niamh glanced between them. Something knowing appeared in her eyes.
Isabella immediately turned back toward the dresses. Finn cleared his throat.
āDeclan said there was a clothing emergency.ā
āThere is,ā Niamh answered. āIsabella refuses to admit silver is appropriate for charity.ā
āIt is appropriate for a chandelier,ā Isabella said.
Finn walked farther into the room. His gaze found Isabella. It always found her.
āWhat are you wearing tonight?ā he asked.
āIām not attending.ā
The room fell silent.
Finn frowned. āWhy not?ā
āIāll stay here with the children.ā
āWe are going,ā Niamh said.
Isabella looked at her. āI thought you wanted to stay home.ā
āI changed my mind twenty seconds ago.ā
Callum appeared behind Finn in the doorway.
āIsabella has to come.ā
āI do not have an invitation,ā Isabella said.
Finnās eyes remained on hers.
āYou do now.ā
She folded a dress and placed it on the bed.
āFinn, this is a royal gala.ā
āYes.ā
āThere will be ministers, diplomats, and half the aristocracy.ā
āI am aware. I was unfortunate enough to invite them.ā
She tried not to smile.
āI would be out of place.ā
Finn stepped closer.
āNo, you wouldnāt.ā
The softness in his voice made her chest ache. Niamh leaned toward Callum and whispered loudly, āHeās doing the staring thing again.ā
Finn turned. āWhat staring thing?ā
āNothing,ā Callum answered quickly.
Orla climbed to her feet.
āIsabella needs a princess dress.ā
āShe does not,ā Isabella said.
āShe does,ā Niamh replied. āAnd I know exactly which one.ā
Before Isabella could object, Niamh grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the wardrobe room. Three hours later, Isabella stood in front of a mirror wearing a deep emerald gown. The dress had a graceful neckline, fitted sleeves, and a skirt that moved like water around her legs. Her curls fell around her shoulders, held back on one side by a delicate gold comb. She hardly recognized herself.
Niamh stood behind her, looking proud.
āYouāre welcome.ā
āI feel as though Iām wearing someone elseās life.ā
āYou look beautiful.ā
Isabella met Niamhās eyes in the mirror.
The girlās teasing expression had softened.
āTruly,ā Niamh said. āYou do.ā
Isabella turned and hugged her.
Niamh pretended to protest, but wrapped her arms tightly around Isabellaās waist. When they descended the grand staircase together, the palace entrance hall was filled with guests and staff preparing to leave. Finn stood at the bottom of the stairs speaking with Declan. He wore a black tuxedo with a dark green sash representing the royal house. A silver medal rested against his chest, and the royal insignia was pinned near his heart.
He looked every bit the future king. Then he glanced up. His conversation stopped. Isabella paused halfway down the staircase. Finn stared at her.
Not politely. Not casually. He looked at her as though the rest of the palace had disappeared. Declan followed his gaze and smiled to himself. Finn slowly approached the stairs.
āIsabella.ā
She descended the final steps.
āYour Royal Highness.ā
His brow furrowed.
āYou never call me that.ā
āThere are people watching.ā
āI donāt care.ā
Her heartbeat stumbled.
Finn looked over her gown, then back into her eyes.
āYou lookā¦ā
His voice failed.
Niamh appeared behind Isabella.
āBeautiful,ā she supplied.
Finn did not look away.
āYes.ā
The word was quiet.
āBeautiful.ā
Warmth flooded Isabellaās cheeks.
āYou look very handsome,ā she said.
Finn adjusted his cuff.
āI was told the jacket was mandatory.ā
āI think the jacket may be innocent.ā
His mouth curved.
A photographer called for the royal family to gather near the entrance. Finn offered Isabella his arm.
She hesitated.
āIām staff.ā
āTonight you are my guest.ā
People were watching.
Whispers had already begun around the hall. Isabella should have stepped away. Instead, she placed her hand on his arm. Finnās gaze dropped briefly to her fingers. Then he escorted her into the waiting motorcade. The gala was held inside the Royal Conservatory, a glass-domed building overlooking the capital. Hundreds of candles illuminated the ballroom. White roses climbed the pillars, and a string orchestra played beneath the enormous dome. Isabella remained close to the children at first.
It was safer that way. Orla was fascinated by the miniature cakes. Callum became nervous whenever reporters approached. Niamh kept commenting on the hats worn by elderly duchesses.
Finn moved through the room, greeting dignitaries and donors, but his attention repeatedly returned to Isabella.
Every time she looked up, he was watching her. Sometimes from across the ballroom. Sometimes, while another person spoke to him. Sometimes, with an expression so open that she had to look away. Eventually, Finn stepped onto the stage to deliver the eveningās address.
The room grew quiet. He stood at the podium beneath the royal seal.
āWhen my father founded the Royal Childrenās Foundation fifteen years ago, he believed every child deserved stability, safety, and the knowledge that someone would remain beside them during difficult times.ā
Finn paused. The grief in his face was visible, but he did not hide it.
āMy family has learned a great deal about grief this year. We have also learned that healing rarely arrives through grand gestures. Sometimes it arrives through patience. Through laughter. Through someone sitting beneath a dining table because a child is afraid to face a crowded room.ā
Isabellaās breath caught. Callum reached for her hand. Finn looked directly at her.
āSometimes family is not defined by blood, title, or tradition. Sometimes family is the person who enters a broken house and helps it become a home again.ā
The ballroom was completely silent. Isabellaās eyes filled with tears. Finn looked down at his notes, perhaps realizing he had revealed more than intended. Then he finished the speech, thanked the donors, and stepped away from the podium. Applause filled the conservatory.Niamh leaned close to Isabella.
āThat speech was about you.ā
āIt was about the foundation.ā
āIt was about you.ā
Before Isabella could respond, several guests surrounded Finn. She watched him shake hands and accept praise, but the room suddenly felt too warm.
āI need some air,ā she told Niamh.
She slipped through a side door and entered the moonlit gardens. The sounds of the gala softened behind her. She walked along a stone path until she reached a fountain surrounded by roses. Her emotions felt tangled.
Joy. Fear. Hope.
All of them are dangerous. She heard footsteps behind her.
āIsabella.ā
She closed her eyes.
Finn. He approached slowly.
āYou left.ā
āI needed a moment.ā
āWas it my speech?ā
She turned toward him.
āYou shouldnāt have said those things.ā
His expression fell.
āI embarrassed you.ā
āNo.ā
āThen what is it?ā
Isabella looked toward the fountain.
āYou made it sound as though I belong with your family.ā
āYou do.ā
Her heart beat painfully.
āI am your employee.ā
āYou are much more than that.ā
āFinn.ā
He moved closer.
āTell me what I said that wasnāt true.ā
āThat isnāt the point.ā
āThen what is?ā
She struggled to answer.
The moonlight reflected in his eyes. His formal jacket suddenly seemed at odds with the vulnerable man standing before her.
āYou are going to be king,ā she whispered.
āYes.ā
āAnd I am the nanny.ā
āYou are Isabella.ā
āTo you, perhaps. But not to the people inside that ballroom.ā
Finn glanced back toward the conservatory.
āI have spent my entire life surrounded by people who care about titles. I have never been more myself than I am when Iām with you.ā
She looked at him.
Finnās voice grew quieter.
āWhen my father died, I thought everything warm in this family had died with him. The children were hurting. I was failing them. Every room in the palace felt empty.ā
He stepped closer.
āThen you arrived.ā
Isabellaās eyes burned.
āYou brought Orlaās laughter back. You gave Callum permission to speak. You taught Niamh that anger did not make her difficult to love.ā
His jaw tightened.
āAnd you reminded me that I was still a man beneath all of this.ā
He gestured toward his sash and medals. Isabellaās breath trembled.
āFinn, donāt.ā
āI have tried not to.ā
āTried not to what?ā
His eyes held hers.
āLove you.ā
The garden seemed to go still.
Even the music behind them faded into nothing.
Isabella stared at him. Finn exhaled, as though the confession had taken the last of his strength.
āI have tried to call it gratitude,ā he continued. āThen admiration. Then friendship.ā
A sad smile crossed his face.
āI ran out of lies.ā
She could barely speak.
āHow long?ā
āI donāt know.ā
āFinn.ā
āPerhaps the first time you told me I was emotionally constipated.ā
A startled laugh escaped her.
āThat cannot be the moment you fell in love with me.ā
āIt certainly made an impression.ā
She shook her head, wiping a tear from her cheek. Finn grew serious again.
āI knew when Orla learned to ride her bicycle.ā
Isabella remembered that afternoon. The sunlight. Orlaās laughter. Finn is watching from the terrace.
āI looked at you standing in the garden, and I saw you in every future I wanted.ā
Her chest tightened.
āThat isnāt fair.ā
āWhat isnāt?ā
āYou cannot say something like that.ā
āWhy?ā
āBecause I have been trying not to love you too.ā
Finn froze.
The vulnerability in his face was replaced by stunned hope.
āYou love me?ā
Isabella lowered her gaze.
āI tried not to.ā
He took another step closer.
āLook at me.ā
She did.
āI knew it was impossible,ā she said. āYouāre my employer. Youāre a prince. Soon youāll be king.ā
āNone of that answers my question.ā
She swallowed.
āYes.ā
Finnās expression softened.
āYes, what?ā
She gave him a watery smile.
āI love you.ā
The words left her in a whisper. Finn closed his eyes briefly, relief washing across his face. When he opened them, he lifted one hand but stopped before touching her.
āMay I?ā
Isabella nodded. His fingers brushed her cheek. The touch was gentle.
Careful. Nothing like the touch she had endured in the kitchen months before. Finnās thumb moved beneath her eye, catching a tear.
āI have imagined this so many times,ā he admitted.
āYou imagining things sounds dangerous.ā
āIt has become a serious distraction during council meetings.ā
She laughed softly. Finnās other hand settled at her waist only after she leaned closer. Their bodies were separated by barely an inch.
āIsabella,ā he whispered, āif I kiss you, everything changes.ā
āEverything changed before tonight.ā
His forehead rested against hers.
āWhat about your position?ā
āI donāt know.ā
āThe press?ā
āI donāt know.ā
āThe crown?ā
She looked into his eyes.
āI donāt know, Finn.ā
He nodded.
For once, he did not demand a plan. He did not search for a solution. He simply stayed with her in the uncertainty.
āWe can decide tomorrow,ā he said.
āAnd tonight?ā
āTonight I would very much like to kiss the woman I love.ā
Isabella smiled.
āYouāre usually less polite.ā
āIām attempting not to frighten you.ā
āYou donāt.ā
His eyes moved to her lips.
āMay I kiss you?ā
āYes.ā
Finn closed the distance between them. Their first kiss was soft. Almost hesitant. His lips brushed hers as though he feared the moment would disappear if he moved too quickly. Isabellaās hand rose to his chest, her fingers curling against the edge of his jacket. Finn kissed her again. This time, the restraint cracked. His arm tightened around her waist, drawing her close. Isabella slid her hand to the back of his neck as the months of hidden glances, unfinished conversations, and quiet longing poured into the kiss. When they finally separated, both were breathless. Finn kept his forehead against hers.
āYou have no idea how long Iāve wanted to do that.ā
āI may have some idea.ā
He smiled. A real smile. Not the careful public expression of a prince. The smile of a man who had finally been given something he had been afraid to ask for. Voices echoed from the conservatory. Isabella stepped back slightly.
āWe should return.ā
āWe should.ā
Neither moved.
āFinn.ā
āYes?ā
āWe are not behaving responsibly.ā
āI have behaved responsibly for forty-three years. I believe I have earned three more minutes.ā
She laughed. He kissed her forehead. Then her cheek. Then the corner of her mouth.
āThat was more than three minutes,ā she murmured.
āIām a prince. We measure time differently.ā
āThat is not a royal privilege.ā
āI will have it added to the constitution.ā
She rested her head against his chest.
For a moment, Finn simply held her.
His chin rested against her curls as the orchestra began another song inside.
āIām afraid,ā Isabella admitted.
āSo am I.ā
She leaned back to look at him.
āYou are?ā
āTerrified.ā
āOf what?ā
āOf hurting you. Of the palace, turning something beautiful into a public argument. Of asking you to remain in a life you never chose.ā
She placed her hand against his cheek.
āI chose to stay.ā
āAs the childrenās nanny.ā
āAt first.ā
Finn covered her hand with his.
āI will not hide you,ā he said. āBut I will not expose you before youāre ready either.ā
āAnd the children?ā
āWe tell them together.ā
Isabella smiled.
āNiamh already knows.ā
Finn frowned. āHow?ā
āShe has eyes.ā
āThat child is disturbingly observant.ā
āShe also caught you staring at me on the staircase.ā
āI was not staring.ā
āYou forgot how to speak.ā
āI was overcome by the architecture.ā
āThe architecture was behind you.ā
Finn sighed.
āNiamh will be unbearable.ā
āShe will be delighted.ā
āThose conditions are not mutually exclusive.ā
A burst of laughter escaped Isabella. Finn looked at her with such affection that her smile slowly softened.
āWhat?ā she asked.
āNothing.ā
āThat is clearly nothing.ā
āIām happy.ā
The simple confession pierced her more deeply than all the romantic declarations. Finn had spent months carrying duty, grief, and fear. Now, beneath the moonlight, he looked peaceful. Isabella squeezed his hand.
āSo am I.ā
They returned to the gala several minutes later. Not touching. Not officially. But the secret moved between them like a current. Niamh noticed immediately. Her eyes narrowed as she examined Isabellaās flushed cheeks and Finnās poorly concealed smile.
āYou kissed,ā she whispered.
Isabella nearly stumbled. Finn cleared his throat. āThat is not an appropriate question.ā
āThat means yes.ā
Callum looked up from his dessert.
āWho kissed?ā
āNo one,ā Finn answered.
Niamh grinned.
āFinn and Isabella.ā
Orla dropped her spoon.
āYou kissed Isabella?ā
Several nearby guests turned. Finn closed his eyes.
Isabella covered her face with one hand. Orla climbed down from her chair and ran toward them.
āAre you getting married?ā
āWe have only just kissed,ā Isabella whispered.
āPapa said you kiss someone before you marry them.ā
āThere are several steps between those events,ā Finn said.
āHow many?ā
Finn glanced helplessly at Isabella.
She bit back a laugh.
Niamh folded her arms.
āI approve.ā
āNo one requested your approval,ā Finn replied.
āYou would have received it anyway.ā
Callum studied Finn.
āDoes this mean Isabella is staying?ā
The question erased the humor from the moment. Finn looked at Isabella. She saw the fear in Callumās face. The fear that someone else he loved might disappear. Isabella knelt in front of him.
āIām staying.ā
āYou promise?ā
She took his hands.
āI promise.ā
Callum wrapped his arms around her. Orla joined the hug immediately. Niamh pretended she was too old, then bent down and wrapped her arms around all three of them. Finn stood watching.
His family. Broken once.Healing now. Isabella looked up at him over the childrenās heads.
āAre you joining us?ā
Finn glanced around the ballroom. Diplomats were watching. Reporters were whispering. The royal photographer had already raised his camera.
Finn did not care. He knelt and wrapped his arms around them. For the first time since his fatherās death, the future did not feel like something he had to endure.
It felt warm. It felt alive. It felt like Isabella.
And when the orchestra began playing again, Finn knew the music had changed. Not only for that evening.For the rest of his life. When the gala was over, everyone rode in silence back to the palace. Isabellaās mind was running as she replayed the kiss in her head. The feeling of Finnās hand on her thigh brought her back to reality.Ā
āAre you okay?ā Finn asked
Yeah, just thinking about everything that just happened.ā Isabella said, looking out the window.Ā
āListen, no matter what happens, we are in this together,ā Finn said, giving Isabella a smirk.
Isabella smiled.Ā
When the limo stopped, everyone filed out and headed inside. Ā Isabella helped the kids get ready for bed and made sure everyone was tucked in. She was getting ready for bed when there was a knock on her door. Ā She put on her dressing gown and opened the door to see Finn on the other side. He had changed out of his suit, and he was wearing his dressing gown. He smiled when Isabella opened the door.Ā
āIs everything okay?ā Isabella asked.Ā
āYes, I just wanted to make sure you are okay.
āCome inā¦ā Isabella said as she moved out of the way.Ā
Finn walked into Isabellaās room and looked around. Ā Isabella closed the door behind her, and she turned around to see Finn looking around. Isabellaās heart fluttered in her chest. She never thought she would be so close to Finn. Isabellaās eyes grew wide as she watched Finn turn around and walk towards her.Ā
āI know I donāt say this enough, but thank you for everything you do for us,ā Finn said as he reached out and held Isabellaās wrist.Ā
āI love working here,ā Ā was all Isabella would say. The feel of Finnās hands on her made her lose her train of thought.Ā
Finn looked down at his hand and smiled. He lifted Isabellaās wrist to his lips and placed a soft kiss on her pulse point. Isabella bit down on her bottom lip as she felt Finnās soft lips on her skin.
āIāve wanted to kiss you since I saw you tonight, walking down the stairs with the kids,ā Finn said, kissing up Isabellaās arm.Ā
āSo do itā¦ā Isabella whispered.
Finn held Isabellaās face and pulled her close. He pressed her lips against hers. The kiss was soft and slow, giving Isabella all the time to pull away. But Isabella wrapped her arms around Finnās neck and pulled him closer. When they broke the kiss, they rested their foreheads against each other. Ā Isabella lowered her hands to Finnās chest. She could feel his heart beating under her palm. Isabella pushed Finn towards the bed until Finnās knees hit the edge of the bed.Ā
āIsabella.. Are you sure you want to do this?ā Finn asked.
āYes, Iāve been waiting for this moment for a long time,ā Isabella whispered.Ā
Finn grabbed Isabellaās hips and flipped her onto the bed. He got between Isabellaās legs and leaned down and kissed her. He moved his kiss to her neck and down her chest. He pulled open her dressing gown and bit his bottom lip. He kissed Isabellaās chest, taking her breast into his mouth. Isabellaās back arched off the bed as she moaned at Finnās touch. Ā Isabella reached up and started to tug on Finnās head as he moved his way down her body. When he reached her lower waist, he inhaled her scent and smiled up at her.Ā
āYou are so beautiful,ā Finn said, his voice an octave lower and husky.
Isabella blushed, and she moaned as Finn started to rub her wet folds.Ā
āFinnā¦ā Isabella moaned.Ā
āWhat do you need?ā Finn asked.Ā
āI need youā¦ā Isabella moaned.Ā
āI got youā¦ā Finn said, entering Isabella with his fingers.Ā
Finn moved in and out of Isabella, causing her to moan louder and tug on Finnās hair. Before she could say anything, she felt a knot forming in her stomach.Ā
Finn⦠Iām going to cumā Isabella moaned.Ā
Finn moved faster, and Isabellaās back arched off the bed. She moaned and yelled his name as her climax hit her.
Finn pulled his fingers out and looked down on Isabella and smiled.Ā
āAre you ready for more?ā Finn asked.Ā
Isabella bit down on her lip and shook her head yes. Finn leaned down and kissed Isabella with passion and lust. He entered Isabella, and he moaned at her tightness.
āDamnā¦ā Finn moaned as he moved in and out of Isabella.
Isabella grabbed onto Finnās biceps, and her nails sank into his skin. Ā Finn hissed at the sting from her nails into his skin.Ā
Isabella and Finn had sex in every position you can think of. Isabella was on top, straddling Finnās waist, when she felt the familiar knot filling her stomach again.
āFinnā¦ā Iabella moaned, Finn held on to Isabellaās waist and thrust up into her, causing her to moan loudly as her climax hit her again.Ā
Isabella collapsed on Finnās chest, and he flipped her over and continued thrusting until he felt his climax begin to build. Ā Finn held on to Isabellaās hips tight as his climax hit him and he emptied out in Isabella.Ā
Finn collapsed on Isabella's chest, trying to catch his breath. He looked at Isabella and smiled as he pulled himself out of her slowly. Isabella gasped at the empty feeling.Ā
Finn moved to her side and lay next to her on the bed.Ā
āAre you okay?ā Finn asked as he rolled over on his side.Ā
Isabella smiled, her face warm and pink from the escapades.Ā
āYes, Iām okay.Ā
Isabella turned around and kissed Finn on his lips as he wrapped his arms around her.Ā
As their breathing evened out and their eyes became heavy with sleep. Isabella smiled as she laid her head on Finnās chest and her eyes drifted off to sleep.Ā
And as the palace settled into a new season, the future, once uncertain, began to open in new directions. Finn and Isabella would face challengesāquestions about tradition and change, about family and dutyātogether. Soon, Finn would be crowned, and with Isabella by his side, the royal household would look different than it ever had before. Perhaps there would be new roles to shape, new family dinners, even more stories to share. For now, the promise was simple: whatever came next, they would greet it side by side.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
ā Live Streamingā Interactive Chatā Private Showsā HD Qualityā Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Iāve been reading fanfics literally since i was like 10 years old. Ive read fics from fandoms that iām not even apart ofāand dont understand anything theyāre referring to but the authors are THAT good. Iāve wholeheartedly read fics on here that are better than some traditionally published novels.
I genuinely look forward to coming on here and seeing what my favorite writers have come up with because it brings me so much joy reading and interacting with everyone.
But then i go to write my fics and itās like in the back of my head a little voice telling me that what Iām doing is strange and wrong, like i feel guilty in a sense and itās fucking annoying. I donāt and wonāt ever judge any other person for writing fic because it takes a true creative to be able to see something and develop a whole new world from little bits and pieces that youāre givenā¦
Every movie Iāve ever watched, every story Iāve ever read, any song Iāve ever heard, Iām able to come up with some sort of alternative story.
Iāve said it multiple times that the face claim on my fics could be any person because Iām able to change and adapt stories in my head no matter the circumstances.
I started writing as exposure therapy because one of my life goals is to write a book one day but am i gonna feel crazy anytime i open my computer?!?!? Is this impostor syndrome?? Like wtf.
Iāve been considering writing only oc stories but then Iām like well i need source material and it all goes back to how my thoughts started. Idk⦠itās all word salad atp.
I can only do OCs. And ever since I could have thoughts, I was making up stories in my head. Frim an AU of my favorite movies, to things from my favorite books.
I write ocs bc they're who I *wish* I was. They also have some of the experiences I've had. Or they have experiences that I've been afraid of.
Anyways. Yes. It's like imposter syndrome
I have it BIG TIME. Especially being lucky enough to count @trippinsorrows and @uceyliyahh as my friends on here, and @southerngirl41 as a friend that has gone past just Tumblr. š¤š«¶š»
I also take inspiration from THEM.
Trust me. You're not alone in feeling that way! š¤š«¶š»