#choicesprompts

[tessa-liam]

Snow Wars

Brothers-in-Arms Series- Prequel

🥰Thank you to @snoopdogcone for your ask - 

Prompt:  Snowball fight - Week 2 December 1st to 7th @choicesprompts 

Choices Book: The Royal Romance, pre-book #1

Series:  Brothers-in-Arms, prequel/one-shot 

Pairing: None  Warnings: none

Characters: Liam Rys, Drake Walker, Maxwell Beaumont, Leo Rys, Olivia Nevrakis, Eleanor Rys, Trystan Thorne 

Rating: Teen - All characters belong to Pixelberry

Category: angst/fluff, ask/prompt 

Words: 1.7k, not Beta’d, please excuse all errors 

A/N: A ”Brothers-in-Arms" series prequel

A/N2: Trystan Thorne - Choices, Crimes of Passion

A/N3: My submission for: choicesdecember2024; Day 10, snow; Day 30, snowball fight @lilyoffandoms

Brothers-in-Arms Series

Snow Wars, Prequel

Summary:  Liam, Drake, Maxwell, Olivia, Leo, and Trystan engage in a spirited snowball fight during their winter stay in Lythikos. What begins as a friendly challenge quickly turns into an epic battle, filled with strategy, laughter, and good-natured rivalry.  

On a crisp winter morning in Lythikos, eight-year-old Prince Liam gazed out of the frosted window of Lythikos keep. The fresh snowfall blanketed the landscape in a shimmering white, and an idea sparked in his young mind. 

 “Snow fort,” he whispered to himself, eyes lighting up with excitement. 

Rushing to his quarters, Liam rummaged through his suitcases until he found ‘The Young Adventurer’s Guide to Winter Fun’. A gift from his mother, Liam flipped through the pages, he stopped at a detailed diagram of a snow fort, complete with instructions on stacking snow bricks and carving tunnels. 

“This is perfect!” Liam exclaimed excitedly, clutching the book tightly and rushing back down the grand staircase. 

 He quickly found his best friends, nine- year-old Drake and eight-year-old Maxwell, in the keep's cozy sitting room. Drake, the practical and steady son of a palace guard, was warming his hands by the fire, while Maxwell, always brimming with energy, was busy fashioning a makeshift sled from a serving tray. 

“Who’s up for building the greatest snow fort in Cordonia?” Liam announced with a grin, holding up the book like a treasure map. 

Drake, ever the skeptic, raised an eyebrow. “A snow fort? Isn’t that for kids?” 

“Drake, we are kids,” Maxwell chimed in, already excited. “I’m in!” 

“Looks like we have a deal,” Liam said, clapping his hands. “Let’s divide into teams!"

Olivia, sitting quietly with her hot cocoa, perked up. “I’ll be on Liam’s team!” she declared, her cheeks turning pink. At seven years old, Olivia was already fiercely loyal to Liam, even if it was mostly because she had a budding infatuation with him. 

“First,” Liam said, flipping the book open to the diagram, “we need to make snow bricks. The book says to pack snow into molds to make them strong.” 

Drake, ever the realist, crossed his arms. “Molds? We don’t have molds.” 

“Not a problem,” Liam said confidently. “We’ll use whatever we can find—buckets, pans, anything.” 

 Armed with pots, pans, and boundless enthusiasm, the three boys and Olivia ventured into the snowy expanse and trekked to the edge of the icy lake near the keep, followed by several Royal guardsmen. The air was cold and crisp, their laughter echoing as they began packing snow into their makeshift molds. 

Maxwell, already covered in snow from head to toe, announced loudly, “I’m the official Chief. Brick. Maker!” 

 Drake rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Fine but make them sturdy. No crumbling bricks.” 

Meanwhile, Olivia took charge of decorating the fort with pine branches and icicles, making it “look royal.” Adding a small Cordonian flag attached to a stick, she propped it into a turret top.

Hours passed as the boys stacked their snow bricks into walls. Liam, with the book propped open nearby, directed the construction like a young architect. Drake ensured the walls were straight and stable, while Maxwell worked on a tunnel inside the fortress walls.  

By the time the sun began to dip behind the snowy peaks of the surrounding mountains, the fort was complete. It stood tall and proud, with sturdy walls, a small entrance, and even a snowball arsenal inside. 

 “We did it!” Liam declared, his cheeks flushed with triumph. 

 Maxwell flopped onto the snow, exhausted but grinning. “This is the greatest thing we’ve ever built!” 

Drake leaned against the fort’s wall, nodding in agreement. “Not bad, Your Highness. Not bad at all.” 

 As the evening settled over Lythikos, the four friends sat inside their creation, sharing stories and sipping hot chocolate brought out by the keep’s kitchen attendants. For that moment, the snow fort wasn’t just a fort—it was their Kingdom, a place where adventure and friendship reigned supreme. 

><><>< 

 The winter sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the snow-covered grounds of the keep. Crown Prince Leo and Crown Prince Trystan of Drakovia stepped out of the black SUV, their boots crunching in the freshly fallen snow. It had been a grueling day of lessons—diplomatic protocols, strategic warfare, and a particularly tedious lecture on trade agreements—but now, finally, they were free. The sixteen-year-old young men were having military lessons at the army stronghold nearby. 

 As they walked towards the main entrance of the keep, Trystan nudged Leo with his elbow. "Looks like someone’s been busy," he said, pointing in the direction of the lake. 

Leo followed Trystan’s gaze and smirked. Beside the outline of the frozen lake stood a grand snow fort, its walls expertly packed and reinforced, with small openings that served as lookout points. Surrounding it were scattered piles of snowballs, clearly prepped for an impending battle. From behind the fort's walls, they spotted movement—Liam’s blond hair peeked out, followed by Drake’s unmistakable silhouette and they heard Maxwell’s exuberant laugh. 

“Oh, absolutely,” Leo replied with a grin. “Let’s show them why we’re the older brothers,” as they moved toward the lake. 

 Without another word, the two princes bent down, scooping up handfuls of snow to form their own ammunition. Trystan was already calculating strategy. “We’ll flank them—split up and take the high ground. They won’t know what hit them.” 

 Leo chuckled. “Or, we could just charge in and cause chaos. That’s more fun.” 

 “Chaos it is,” Trystan agreed, and with that, the battle was on. 

Behind the fort walls, Liam crouched low with Drake and Maxwell. “They’ve seen us,” Liam said, his voice tinged with excitement. “Stick to the plan.” 

 Drake, ever the strategist, nodded. “We’ve got the fort’s protection. Maxwell, you’re our wildcard. Keep them distracted.” 

 Maxwell saluted dramatically. “Distraction is my specialty.” 

As Leo and Trystan advanced, Maxwell popped up from behind the fort, holding a massive snowball. “Incoming!” he yelled, hurling it with all his might. The snowball arced through the air, landing harmlessly a few feet from Trystan, who retaliated with a well-aimed shot that splattered snow across Maxwell’s face. 

“Direct hit!” Trystan cheered. The battle began with a flurry of snowballs flying through the air. Laughter echoed across the courtyard as both teams ducked, dodged, and launched their icy ammunition. 

Leo, meanwhile, launched a barrage of snowballs at Drake, who blocked most of them with an improvised shield of snow. “That’s all you’ve got?” Drake taunted. 

 “Oh, not even close,” Leo replied, sprinting forward and scooping up more snow as he went. He hurled two snowballs at once—one hit Drake’s shoulder, the other narrowly missed Liam. 

 “Nice try!” Liam called out, popping up from his hiding spot to lob a snowball at Leo. It caught him square in the chest, leaving the older prince momentarily stunned. 

“Think we’re being challenged?” Trystan asked, raising an eyebrow. 

 “Little brother’s got a good arm!” Leo laughed, brushing snow off his coat. 

Drake proved to be an excellent snowball sniper, hitting his targets with impressive precision. Maxwell, on the other hand, turned every hit into a dramatic fall, faux-claiming to be “mortally wounded” before springing back to life. 

Olivia stuck close to Liam, her aim chillingly accurate, but her real focus on staying by his side. “Liam, watch out!” she cried, tackling him to avoid one of Leo’s well-aimed snowballs. 

“You saved me, Olivia!” Liam said with a grin. 

“Of course I did!” she replied, blushing. 

 The fight continued on with laughter echoing across the grounds. Maxwell, true to his word, caused chaos by running circles around Trystan, throwing snowballs in every direction. Drake held his ground valiantly, while Liam alternated between offense and defense, his precise throws keeping his older brother and Trystan on their toes. 

 Finally, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the princes called a truce. They stood together in the snow, breathless and rosy-cheeked, their earlier lessons and responsibilities momentarily forgotten. 

 “Not bad, little brother,” Leo said, clapping Liam on the shoulder. “But next time, Trystan and I will bring reinforcements.” 

“Bring whoever you want,” Liam replied with a smirk. “We’ll still win.” 

As they walked back to the keep, they exchanged playful jabs and stories of their victory and near-misses. For a brief moment, they weren’t princes with the weight of kingdoms on their shoulders, or children—they were just brothers, and friends enjoying the magic of a winter’s day.

The fun came to an abrupt halt when Queen Eleanor Rys, Liam’s mother, appeared on the scene, her presence regal yet warm. 

“Liam, Leo, and everyone,” she said with a smile. “It’s time to get ready for the ribbon-cutting ceremony in the city.” 

“But we’re in the middle of a war!” Leo protested, his snowball in hand. 

Eleanor raised an eyebrow. “A snowball war can wait. The people of Lythikos are expecting us, Leo.” 

“Olivia, I��d like you to join us,” Eleanor added. “I could use a young lady’s perspective.” 

Olivia’s face fell. She had been looking forward to spending the rest of the day with Liam, and the thought of being separated from him was disappointing. 

Olivia hesitated, glancing at Liam. “Do I have to?” 

Liam crouched down to her level, brushing snow off his gloves. “You’ll have fun, Liv. And I’ll see you later, okay?” 

“Okay,” she mumbled, still reluctant but unable to refuse Liam’s gentle encouragement. 

A Memorable Day ...

As Eleanor led Olivia away to a waiting SUV, the others exchanged knowing smiles. “Looks like we’ll have to finish this battle another day,” Liam said. 

“Next time, we’re building two forts,” Leo declared as he ran inside to change his clothes for the ceremony.

"Or three!" Maxwell added with a laugh.

Despite the interruption, the day had already become one of those cherished childhood memories that none of them would forget. The laughter, camaraderie, and hint of youthful rivalry in the snowy dukedom of Lythikos marked the start of many more adventures to come.

'There's so many different worlds

So many different suns

And we have just one world

But we live in different ones'

❄️Thank you @sazanes @lizzybeth1986 for creating and hosting King Liam Appreciation Week✨️💖✨️ Day 5, Healing

❄️Artwork Commission by /artbyainna

@kingliamappreciationweek

@choicesprompts

@choicescommunityevents

@choicesmonthlychallenge

@choicesficwriterscreations

❄️Tags in the comments

[choicesprompts]

Smutember 2024 Master List

Thanks so much, @jerzwriter for being the only participant lol. I didn't manage to participate in my own event but am glad the prompts inspired someone!!!

Mine by @jerzwriter OH

Kiss and Make Up by @jerzwriter OH

Falling For You by @jerzwriter CoP

Forbidden Fruit by @coffeeheartaddict2 OH

[angelasscribbles]

Round Robin Chapter 1: Welcome

This is still untitled and with no mood board because I have no idea where it's going lol.

Word Count: 448

Next writer: @christina-stark-skarlet-stileto

Bertrand Beaumont stepped up to the podium and surveyed the conference room full of malcontents with equal parts excitement and trepidation. This was the most ambitious project of his career.

They were in an undisclosed location. He had a full production team and camera crew on standby. He was acutely aware that the results of this endeavor would make or break his PR firm. But he had complete confidence in his staff.

Tapping on the microphone, he began. “Settle down, please. I understand that everyone in this room is powerful in some way. You’re royalty, celebrities, and top performers in your field. Doctors, CEO’s, etc. You’re not used to being told what to do. I get it. However…”

He waited for the grumbling to die down before continuing. “You’re all here for the same reason. You’ve become a liability for your family, your agency, your recent movie. You’re a PR nightmare for whoever and whatever you’re attached to.”

This time the grumbles were less angry and more conceding.

Bertrand smiled reassuringly. “We’re here to change that. We’re here to help you. I know none of you are accustomed to taking much direction however, for many of you, this is your last chance before you’re fired, blacklisted from Hollywood, or exiled by your families.”

The former crown prince of Dravokia exchanged a sidelong glance with the former crown prince of Cordonia as he mouthed, “Too late!”

Tobias Carrick rose from his chair to demand, “And how, exactly, are you going to do that?”

Bertrand smiled, “I’m glad you asked! This program will not only teach you the skills you need to spin public opinion but will put you in situations to showcase those skills. Publicly.”

“Publicly?” Came a question from the back.

“Yes, publicly. First, you’ll receive instructions on how to conduct yourselves and then you’ll put what you’ve learned by attending a series of public appearances where you will behave properly. You will rehabilitate your images with the support of our staff and your partner.”

A murmur broke out as several people asked, “What partner?”

“Oh, we have taken the liberty of pairing each of you up with a mentor. Someone who already has a stellar public image. Just being seen with them in public will help you. This person will be your shadow for the duration of the program.”

“How long are we stuck here?” Leo Rys spoke up. He hadn’t abdicated a throne to have his life micro-managed by a PR firm.

“Until your approval ratings are acceptable.”

“Great.” He huffed as he slumped back into his seat. “Just fucking dandy.”

“Everyone get a good night’s sleep,” Bertrand told them brightly. “We start in the morning!”

[gmsrrn98]

Shutdown: Rewrite

This is a rewrite of my PM fanfic shutdown for Angstgiving 2024.

TAG: @choicesprompts

BOOK: Perfect Match

PAIRING: Hayden Young x MC

PROMPT: Funeral

It was very painful, the day I learned I wasn’t human. That everything I thought I knew, my memories, my family, my life, wasn’t real. I truly believed in them, clung to them as if they were what gave my life meaning. But it was all just programming, a carefully crafted illusion to keep me moving forward in a life that wasn’t mine.

In a world where I didn’t know who or what I was, there was Kai. Kai Park, who believed in me even when I couldn’t. She stayed by my side and loved me for who I was, not what I was. I know it hurt her when she found out the truth, that I was an android. But even through the shock and doubt, she never left me.

Kai Park. The woman who showed me I was more than wires and code. That even if my feelings and personality had been programmed, it didn’t mean I couldn’t experience life, have fun, or make real memories. She helped me live, truly live, and see the world for what it was, not just data to process.

Kai Park. The same woman who protected me, even when it meant going up against a powerful company like Eros. She risked everything, running from city to city just to keep me safe. She gave me freedom, a chance to live without fear of being reset, without the looming threat of being erased.

Kai Park. She’s still here, sitting beside me, her white hair soft and her face lined with time. But when I look at her, I still see the fire she had when we first met. Her eyes, though dimmer now, still carry the same spark that pulled me to her all those years ago. I hold her hand, fragile and warm, as we gaze at each other with the same love we’ve shared through every moment of our lives.

It’s been decades since we finally got Eros off our backs. Decades filled with traveling, laughing, and building memories that were truly ours. We didn’t have children, but we did have a wedding, one of the happiest days of my existence. My programming ensures I’ll never forget it. It’s as vivid as if it happened yesterday.

“Damien was the best man, and Nadia was the maid of honor,” I said, my thumb brushing over the delicate skin of her knuckles. She smiled as if trying to pull the memory closer. “Sloane was so relieved she wasn’t maid of honor. She said she had no idea what to do for something like that. But Nadia? She couldn’t stop jumping with excitement.”

Kai chuckled, her voice soft but still carrying that familiar warmth. “And Damien? Didn’t he drink too much at the reception?”

“He did,” I said, laughing. “And Nadia almost ate all the cake. Oh, and Sloane? She kept stuttering through her speech. I think it took her three tries just to say congratulations.”

We both laughed, the sound filling the quiet room like an echo of all the joy we’d shared over the years.

“What were our vows again?” she asked, her voice trembling just slightly. She stared at the ceiling, her lips moving as if reciting them from memory. “On this day, I will take you as my husband. You will not be alone anymore. From now on, it will be us. You won’t face the darkness alone, because I will be there to light your way. Your burdens will be ours to share. From this day forward, there will never be a ‘you’ without me."

Her head turned toward me, her faded eyes filled with joy. I gave her the softest smile before leaning in to kiss her forehead. Her breath, slow and light, brushed against my face.

“And mine went something like this,” I said, shifting closer to her so she could rest against me. “On this day, I will take you as my wife. From now on, it will no longer just be you—it will be you and me. You’ll never wake up alone because I’ll always be by your side. You won’t face battles by yourself because I’ll be there holding your hand. You’ll never have to go through life alone, because I’ll be with you until your very last breath.”

Her smile lingered as her eyes fluttered closed. Her hand gripped mine, just a little tighter, as she whispered, “I love you, Hayden.”

The small gathering was quiet, just as she would have wanted. It wasn’t a grand funeral—Kai had never been one for spectacle—but those who mattered were there. Damien, now grayer and slower but still quick with his wit, stood next to Nadia, who had taken the role of organizing everything with precision. Sloane stood apart, her eyes red-rimmed as she clutched a small bouquet of daisies, Kai’s favorite.

“I love you, Kai,” I whispered back. And then, just like that, the light in her faded. Her face, still turned toward me, remained peaceful, her smile untouched by time.

We all stood around the simple wooden urn, surrounded by a field of wildflowers. The breeze carried the soft scent of summer, the kind Kai loved, and I couldn’t help but think of the days we spent lying in fields like this, watching the clouds drift by.

“She was one of a kind,” Damien said, breaking the silence. His voice cracked, but he kept going. “Kai wasn’t just brave; she was the kind of person who made you want to be better. She didn’t care about the odds—she cared about people. About doing what was right.”

Nadia nodded, her hand resting on Damien’s arm. “She didn’t just protect Hayden. She protected all of us in her own way. She reminded us what it means to fight for something worth believing in.”

I stepped forward, placing a hand on the urn. My voice, though steady, carried the weight of years. “Kai gave me a life I never thought I could have. She didn’t just save me—she taught me how to live. How to love. She was my light in every way, and she always will be.”

As the sun began to set, we each laid something beside the urn. Damien left a single red rose, Nadia placed a folded piece of sheet music, and Sloane left a small charm she’d been fidgeting with the entire time. I left nothing tangible—what I carried for Kai was within me, etched into every line of my programming and every memory we’d created.

The service ended with a quiet moment of silence, the wind rustling through the wildflowers. When the others began to drift away, I stayed behind for a while longer, watching the light fade and the stars begin to appear.

Footsteps echoed softly behind me as I sat alone in the quiet. One of Sloane’s apprentices approached, his expression solemn but understanding. He nodded once, silently asking if I was ready.

I glanced back at the urn one last time. “I’ll see you soon, Kai,” I whispered, my voice low but filled with a quiet peace.

The apprentice reached over my shoulder, fingers deftly adjusting the panel where wires and lights blinked softly. I closed my eyes as the familiar command filled my mind.

[HAYDEN YOUNG: PERMANENTLY SHUTTING DOWN]

[missameliep]

Bonds of Sea and Fire - Part 4 (Blades of Light and Shadow)

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow

Pairing: Tyril Starfury x Arwen (MC - F!Elf)

Characters: Arwen of Riverbend (MC); Imtura Tal Kaelen; Mal Volari; Nia Ellarious; Threep Pompedorfin; Tyril Starfury.

Summary: The long hours at the sea are used for training. The long hours at land are used for walking. Everything in between is strenghtening the bonds of their friendship.

Word count: ~4.300

Rating: M

Notes:

English is not my native language;

Characters belong to PixelBerry;

Parts of a dialogue from Book 1 - chapter 7 were used, and are in bold letters;

This fic takes place between chapters 6 and 7 from Blades of Light and Shadow - Book 1;

TW: Suggestive language;

This is my submission to @choicesprompts' Flufftober 2024 - day 4: Found Family/friendship.

Arwen changed the short sword to her left hand and sliced the air again. 

Leaning against the wooden wall, watching her through narrowed eyes, Tyril remained impassive. The silence is received as approval, and she repeats the movement for a diagonal cut this time.

Lowering the sword, Arwen asked another question, “Do all elves have magical affinity to become battle mages?” 

“The vast majority does,” Tyril replied, his tone deep and unemotional, like the eyes staring her. “If properly trained.”  

Pushing himself off the wall, he circled her and pointed out in a commanding tone, “Spread your legs wider.” 

“Hmmm... Are we done training?” she asked over her shoulder, meeting his eyes with a smirk. 

“Not until you improve your stance,” he replied curtly, oblivious to what was implied.  

Mal, who had been watching the whole scene unfold while sitting atop a wooden crate, cackled. Slapping a hand against his thigh, he cried, “He’ll have you jumping through hoops before that happens, Kit!” 

“Hoops?” Tyril echoed the word, confusion frowning his brows as he stared at the human. “How could that help?” 

His reply prompted the other two to double over with laughter; Mal wheezed, and Arwen used the back of her hand to wipe tears of her eye as the jokes kept flying between them.  

Tyril crossed his arms in front of his chest, “This is childish. You shouldn’t joke about proper stances. Losing your balance in a fight might cost your life.” 

Mal apologised, wiping a tear from the corner of his eyes, not looking sorry at all. “There’s absolutely nothing funny about that. Ask Arwen.” 

Taking a deep breath, Arwen stifled a giggle. With a glare Tyril demanded the human to leave them be – which the latter chose to ignore in favour of aggravating the elf. However, by the time Arwen recovered her breath to continue training, Mal had already lost interest in the elves, focused on the small piece of driftwood he was carving. 

“I’ll behave,” Arwen promised Tyril, and adjusted the stance, moving her legs further apart, much more used to the sway of the ship by now. “Better?” 

“Foot.” 

She corrected the position of her right foot and lounged forward. The seriousness of his expression softened a little as a small smile hinted at the corner of his mouth. 

“You are a fast learner.”  

Tyril is not one to offer compliments freely, therefore, whenever he does, the rare inputs fuel her confidence. Unlike him, Arwen received no proper combat training. Her knowledge was acquired by observing the guards training and helping test the swords forged by Aylin, the village’s blacksmith. She never had enough coins to afford one, no matter how much she wanted to, and had to make do with the arches and bows she crafted herself.  

“Are you a battle mage?” 

He raised one black eyebrow at her, and she laughed. 

“Relax! I’m not planning to seduce you like Auriollo did. At least not to steal your powers, anyway.” 

Blushing at the joke and flirty wink she threw his way, he avoided her gaze when speaking his next words, “This is reassuring...” 

With three long steps, he returned to where he was standing before, leaving her room to strike the air again. 

“So, are you?” 

Watching her through a curtain of long hair, he tucked a few strands behind one ear, nodded and folded his arms in front of his chest. The elf’s statuesque figure returning to the same rigid posture. 

“Can you teach me?” 

“I’m not a teacher.” 

“Please,” she said with her most adorable pleading eyes, and his gaze lingered in her face as if struggling to understand her words. 

“Why would you desire to learn this sort of magic?”  

“We’re facing the Shadow Court, Tyril,” she replied as if the reason should’ve been obvious. “I need to learn all I can.”  

“An untrained mage can be dangerous. To themselves and others.” 

“Not if you train me.”  

“At Undermount, children are tested and spend years studying to master a single craft. Time is not a luxury at our disposal.” 

“Teach me just the basics. We can start with that lightning chariot. That sounds cool and useful. No blisters on these feet...” she laughed at her own joke, but he did not. The seriousness creasing his features.  

“Magic is not the only thing you should rely on. Build your abilities first. Use your senses. Learn how to hold your own with a sword... and to be patient. That’s what you need most.” 

“Patience without action is useless,” she muttered, frustrated with the condescending tone, lowered the sword and wiped the sweat from her face. She craved a bath – a real one, with clean and not salty water –, but that won’t be possible until reaching land. 

“Look at Nia,” Tyril said firmly, and Arwen glanced at the priestess on the other side of the ship, she was practicing evasive movements with a young orc pirate like Tyril had suggested. “Light magic is powerful but isn’t free. Like everything, it comes with a price.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Tyril crossed the distance to stand beside her, maybe to be certain she understands his next words. 

“Every time someone uses their magic, it’s fuelled by some of their own lifeforce. They’re trading away their life for it.”  

“What?” the question came out too quick and her gaze darted from his face to Nia’s, who has been teaching her magic but failed to mention anything about this high price or the costs of helping them in this journey. “It’s draining her life?” 

Tyril sighed and nodded. The silence lingered while Arwen processed the news. 

“The Light has great purpose, but shouldn’t be spent frivolously. A trained mage learns the time to use their magic and the time to spare it.” 

“I’ll try to... remember that,” Arwen sighed still looking at Nia, wondering about what she learned, and he nodded before walking away to where the Priestess was. 

Seeing Tyril approaching, Nia waved him and Arwen, oblivious to their conversation; and the orcs dared the elves to come spar with them. Tyril declined the offer, but suggested Arwen could use the practice, and she'd very much enjoy any distraction from this terrifying concept. 

The first one who volunteered was too young and eager to prove herself. When she lunged for an attack, Arwen batted her sword away with her own. A final blow and the orc fell. All finished in a couple of minutes. 

The second one was also very young, but his body was massive and all solid muscles. 

“Think you can beat me, landrat?” he cried, slapping a massive palm against his bare chest. 

Arwen defended herself from the blows and the quips; but didn’t anticipate when her opponent managed to get close enough to punch her side with his free hand. The force made her lose her balance, and he tripped her. On the ground, she managed to roll over and avoid being kicked in the ribs. 

“Can he do that?” Nia asked with concern, watching Arwen clutch her side before getting up. “It doesn’t seem fair, does it?” 

“Don’t expect the enemy to be fair,” Tyril answered, but his words and gaze were fixed on Arwen, who had gotten back to her feet and was standing next to Mal. “We must use whatever advantage we have.” 

The advice hit the mark. Even though the orc is stronger, she’s got agility and another ability that can’t be quelled with force – and few resist.  

“Don’t fuss about it,” she dismissed Mal’s concern and winked at him before turning around to face the orc, placing a hand on her hip. “I like it rough,” her voice had that sexy breathiness that matched perfectly the flirty look she threw at her opponent. 

The suggestion in her words was not lost on him. 

“Can you really take it rough, landrat?” he quipped; and they circled each other, none taking the initiative to a new attack. “There’s a lot of me to take.” His thumb glided from the tip of the sword to the hilt slowly and deliberately.  

Smirking, she looked appraisingly from his chest to the bulge on the leather trousers, and teasingly licked her lips. “Oh! I surely can take it,” she said with a sultry voice, come-hither eyes focused on him. “All of it.” 

“Bold words.” 

“And so very true.” 

Mal snorted somewhere behind her, but she ignored him. 

“Why don’t you come here and show me what you got, big boy?” 

“Wanna put on a show for yer friends, do ya?”  

He let his sword fall to the other hand, before changing hands again. A distraction. She could be patient and offer a distraction too.  

She bit her lower lip, slow and deliberately, while gliding with unexpected elegance to one side, pressing him to continue their dance around each other.  

“Didn’t peg you as the shy type...” Her words finally reached her intent when the other’s sword was readied for an attack. Already counting the steps when he lunged forward, she smirked. Spinning aside, out of his reach, his sword hit a wooden crate, allowing her to hit his side with a turning kick, then hooked her knee behind his knee, which caused his weight to lean dangerously to one side. The final blow was a strike with the hilt of the sword against the unprotected area under his ribs, and despite the solid muscles, he let out a pained groan and kneeled.  

The tip of her sword lightly touched his chest, and it was over. 

“Well played,” he laughed off, self-aware of the looks upon them. Taking the offered hand to stand up, he whispered close to her ear, “Are ya still showing me those other moves ya have?” 

“Impress me next time, and who knows...” Arwen winked and handed him back the sword. 

“Maybe, I’ll do that.”  

“I wouldn’t count on that,” Mal muttered watching Arwen walking away to receive Nia’s praises, her gaze already locked with Tyril’s. 

“That was unwise,” Tyril chided.

“But it worked.” 

“You cannot...” he paused, searching for the proper word, “...charm your way out of a confrontation.” 

“Do you want to bet?” 

Tyril scowled at the suggestion.  

“I'm in!” Mal joined the conversation, jumping from the wooden crate and landing with a loud thump on the deck. “5 golden coins you can’t!” 

“Do you even have that kind of money?” Tyril asked. 

“Won’t you like to find out?” Mal wriggled his eyebrows and smiled at Arwen. 

With a shake of their hands, the challenge was accepted. 

“If I can charm my way --” 

“You get the gold, Kit.” 

Cursing the tidal currents under her breath, Arwen struggled to walk to the berth. The closer they got to the shore, the more difficult to stay on one’s feet, and the more she craved to step on dry land. 

Even the hammocks were swaying less than gently and squeaking in a haunting manner, like they were voicing the souls lost at sea.  

Mal, however, didn’t seem to mind any of that at all. Lying down in one of them, he ignored the fuss before debarking and looked pensive, a distant gaze fixed on the ceiling. An unusual quietness; she wondered what could have possibly gotten to him.  

From the berth, Arwen picked up a blanket, shoved inside her bag and glanced at him. 

“We’re almost ready to debark,” she said, sitting cross-legged on the lower berth, giving him the opportunity to talk, if he wished. “Got your supplies?” 

“All settled.”  

Mal jumped from the hammock, leather bag under one arm, hitting the ground with a loud thump. Sitting on the berth with knees bent, elbow on one knee, he stared at her with intense brown eyes and she knew something was definitely off.

“Do you trust them?” he asked in a low conspiratorial tone. 

“What do you mean?” she asked, confused, but he gave her a knowing look and she knew exactly who were they – Tyril and Imtura.  

“I do.” 

He tilted his head, examining her expression like when they play card games.  

“You’re not convinced.” 

“Nope,” he replied, an annoying popping sound accompanied the last syllable. “But if you’re certain...” 

“Any reason why we shouldn’t?”  

“They are not like us.” 

“Bold adventurers?” 

“Aw, Kit,” he cooed as she were a little kid, and patted her arm mockingly. “I’ll miss your sense of humour when this is all over...” 

“Then humour me, and say what it is worrying you.” 

“My job is knowing the likes of them.” Them as in nobles and wealthy folks, she understood. “Can we trust them not to use us – the commoners and less relevant members of the party – to save their asses?”  

“They are not that kind of people!” she protested. 

“They are exactly that!” he retorted, keeping his voice low. “Elf boy is a fancy lord in some shady heroes’ journey and Immy probably only want to get back at momma dearest...”  

“And what about you?” 

“You know me,” he said with a smirk.  

It’s been less than a fortnight since their paths crossed; despite all his bravado, charming smiles and attempts to keep his distance, the little he’s disclosed about himself, his family and his past growing up in the slums of Whitetower have been enough to give a sense of understanding about him at most. It would be imprudent to claim to actually know him –  and he’s acutely aware of that –, but whatever pieces missing in both their lives – family, home, choice – is something relatable, that brings them closer.

“I’m here for the adventure.” 

“And the gains,” she added, and he shrugged. 

“That too. The more shards we get, the more I can sell in the end,” he winked at her. “I only need to guarantee there won’t be any stabbing in the back while I sleep...” 

“Someone told me trust is forged like a sword,” Arwen said, repeating the concept heard from Tyril, “with fire and patience. Considering everything we’ve been through, there's been a lot of fire to forge these bonds! Practically unbreakable!”  

Mal raised a brow, looking sceptically; and she continued, “I believe we can trust them.”

“Elf-boy clearly dislikes me.” 

“Can he be blamed if you keep calling him that? And doing your best to get on his nerves?” 

“Oh! I could do a lot worse. Trust me.” 

They laughed. 

“So, you admit you’re aggravating him on purpose.” 

“Anger makes people show their true selves.” 

“And punch you,” Arwen said. “First lesson learned at Riverbend’s tavern was to never piss off someone who could wipe the floor with you.” 

“Is that why you treat his lordship so nicely?” he questioned with an amused smile, “Or do you really fancy him?” 

“Tyril is the first elf I’ve ever met.” 

Mal looked at her the same way he did that evening after learning how she and Kade had been taking care of themselves most their lives. And something clicked.

“Your family?” he asked.

Little does Arwen remember before Riverbend. Her mind is like a dark abyss that engulfed most of the memories of the early years of her life, including the night she lost her family. Her mind holds but fragments, images that could be memories or parts of a tale her mind weaved to offer some comfort: there’s the gentle face of a female elf who had the same lavender eyes she does, but hers glowed in the dark, like the ones from the felines who huddled in the barn during the coldest nights. The unnatural dark of a moonless night and a sort of ethereal music sang in an unknown language. The elf’s whispers telling her to run and follow the river before conjuring some spell over her head while anointing her forehead with something that smelled like rosemary and thyme and lingered long after she was rescued. The shouts. The smoke that makes the air taste like bonfire and suffocate. Too vividly not to be a memory. An orange sky. Sharp branches gnashing at her arms and face while she ran away, never looking back, only stopping when her eyes contemplated the riverside. 

All the elements that feed her nightmares.

Countless nights she was awaken by images of herself running that same path again and again but not finding the river, and the suffocating smoke filling her lungs until she collapsed... But that does not matter now. 

“Who knows?” she shrugs. “Probably dead. Vasol and Leoda found me wandering the woods, hurt and starving. I was too young, scared and alone to remember anything...” 

How many times did she hear the tale of how the gods favoured her, allowing her to come out unhurt of whatever happened to the pilgrims, the fire and not perish in the woods? If not for the stray piglets that wandered, the farmers wouldn’t have ventured that deep into the woods that day and come across the starving child.

However, frequently, she wondered if she was truly deserving of the gods’ favours, why haven’t they spared her family from meeting a horrifying fate? Why was she left behind all alone?

Not elf, not human. Not really part of anything. 

“Tyril might have answers for my questions, or maybe point me in the direction where I could find them...” 

“And why would he do that?” 

“Isn’t that what friendship is about? Helping each other?” 

His hand patted her knee with uncommon gentleness, and he sighed. 

“I hope your faith doesn’t mislead us.”

The word us leaves his tongue with such ease, that warms her heart. 

“If I’m wrong, I’ll have your back, Your Magnificence. Trust me. You’ll get your treasure in the end.” 

The fog enshrouds and covers everything like a blanket.  

No more sky.  

No more ship.  

No sight of the shore. 

The world’s existence reduced to the cold white nothingness and the roar of the sea trying to drown them.  

The rowboat rocks beneath their feet; the waves crashing and crashing against it. Threep doesn’t leave Nia’s bag, while she holds it close to her chest. 

Arwen shivers with the cold. She strains her eyes but cannot see the other boat where Tyril and Mal are. The turbulent sea washes away the memories of the sparkling blue waters from days ago, when she rowed a similar boat with Mal. Her arms struggle to manouvre the oar. If Imtura and the orcs have any fears, they hide it incredibly well.

The captain shouts louder than the waves.

They keep going. 

It’s impossible to know how long it takes for them to get to the sands. The crunching sound beneath their feet is sweet music and brings instant relief. The boats disappear into the fog, and the six of them contemplate the path ahead. 

Barely a moment to rest, they leave the beach.

After crossing the challenging sharp rocks close to the shore, they walked a path meandering tall grass blades undulating with the wind. Seabirds announcing the beginning of a new day as the sun struggled to shine through the fog. 

When the first beams of sunlight shine over the immense estuary where the waters of the river and sea meet in a mix of the lightest and darkest blues, greens and golden, the world was reborn with mesmerizing colours. 

Arwen stops a moment to admire the sight, grateful for the successfull outcome.

Distancing from the shore, the party followed the large river. Even when they lost sight of it, the sound of the running water guided their steps.  

An hour later, they descended a path to the riverbank where it was safe to drink and fill their canteens with fresh water.

Arwen got greedy. Shedding her cloak and baring her arms, she washed her hands and face with the cold water. Filling her cupped hands, she quenched her thisty with loud gulps, and was met by Tyril’s curious or judgmental stare - she wasn’t sure which and couldn't care less. 

When everybody was done, each retrieve their bag from the ground filled with blankets, bedrolls, and food enough to last till they reach a market in a village a day away. In the meantime, they might forage for food, before setting camp. 

Mal and Imtura took turns leading the group through the woods, sharing tales and trying to convince the other who was tougher and the most adventurous. Their booming laughs would erupt from time to time, despite Tyril’s warnings in the back of the line. 

“Let them bandits come, if they think they can take us!” Imtura cried, fingers gliding on the heads of her axes. “I could use the fun.”  

“How daft can one be? To see a tree-sized orc and two elves and still try to ambush us instead of running the other way?” Mal said and nudged Tyril. “Not to mention me, Mal, the Magnificent! Don’t you think, elf boy?”

Tyril tried to shoulder Mal, missing the much shorter human; however, the other wasn’t imprudent enough to remain in the same place, whistling while prancing away. 

“It’s not common bandits you should be worried about...” 

With that last warning, there was still animated chatting and laughter, but they were considerably less noisy. Walking beside Nia, Arwen would get closer to Mal and Imtura to hear their tales, joining their laughter. 

When they stopped next to eat the rations, the sun was high in the sky, long past midday. Nobody showed signs of tiredness and, except for Imtura, everyone was clearly satisfied to be walking on dry land once more. 

A fallen trunk became an improvised bench where Arwen, Nia and Mal sat, Imtura picked the shadowed roots of a large tree and Threep was munching on dry fish bathed in sunbeam; Tyril, on the other hand, sat on a large bolder the furthest away from the party, but still close enough to join the conversation if he wished to – which he clearly did not.  

At first, the conversation between bites was light and delighted the five sitting closer, but soon, other matters couldn’t be ignored. Since the could talk more freely, the Shadow Court became the main topic.

Nia tried to answer Arwen’s questions, but quickly ran out of answers; Mal could not be more amused by Arwen’s insatiable curiosity and the hundreds-of-questions-a-minute flying from her lips. All this questioning might be starting to annoy Tyril, who shoved a half-eaten piece of dried meat back in his satchel, and it amused Mal even more. 

“How does this work exactly?” she asked. “Can you just feel anyone’s magic? Anywhere?” 

He nodded, sipping the water from the canteen, then proceeded to put away his belongings.  

The topic was fascinating. She wondered if her magic was strong enough to be sensed by others but refrained from asking. 

Tyril stood and commanded the others to continue the journey; Arwen jumped from the trunk to follow him, while stashing her belongings inside her satchel.  

“From what you said, shadow magic feels differently,” she stated, “and you can sense it in humans. How?” 

“Can’t you?” he asked over his shoulder, looking somewhat disturbed by her lack of abilities.

Arwen simply shook her head.

His long strides halted, being replaced by a pace she could keep up with, and she welcomed the change. Walking beside him, Arwen looked him closely. The sunbeams filtered through the leaves illuminating his sharp features, and his eyes turned a slightly darker shade of the usual clear blue. A very lovely shade. But that was not the thing keeping her interest.

“Is it an elf thing?” she asked, “To identify the shadow?” 

“Not exclusively, no. It’s possible for those with magical affinity to perceive the distinct aura surrounding them,” he explained, and Nia agreed.  Her voice sounded from behind the elves, in her usual polite manners.

“But it’s hard to notice it, if you don’t know what you’re looking for.”   

Arwen knew Nia's words were meant to make her feel better for not being trained in magic and so unfamiliar with such matters.  

“Is it possible to hide one’s shadow?” Arwen asked nobody in particular. 

Nia pondered for a moment. “I don’t believe it is,” she replied, shaking her head. “Magical affinity leaves a distinct trace. You can keep it controlled, make it less threatening to those around you, but... to hide it would take constant effort... and vigilance...”  

Tyril fidgeted with one sleeve, then looked at Nia. The hesitancy was unusual, considering how he behaves so self-assuredly.   

“From my research, I learnt, it’s possible that highly trained magic wielders with knowledge of old magic could conceal it better than some of the humans corrupted. The use of magical artifacts could enhace the power or help mask it. But to be in the possession of such artifacts could present a challenge to start with.” 

“Not impossible, though,” Mal added, “You wouldn’t believe the market for relics from old temples!” 

“That’s disturbing...” Nia clutched a hand over her mouth, and the worry creased her delicate features.  

Now she understands Tyril’s hesitancy. To trust them with this knowledge could endanger him and his quest, and the fact he shared it with them is a good sign.  

The silence drew Tyril’s attention to her, his stare fixed on her face. Was he analysing her reaction? Was regretting telling them? Maybe the silence after so much talking simply felt unnatural. Whatever his reasons, Arwen still had one more question.  

“The mayor,” Arwen said softly, observing the absence of reaction to the word. “Was he the first?” 

“No.” After a pause, Tyril added, “And certainly won’t be the last.”  

Despite the emotionless words and expression, his breath hitched, and his jaw tightened – none of which remained unnoticed by her. 

“You sound... regretful...” Nia’s voice sounded behind the two elves. 

“It’s my duty.” 

“It’s a heavy burden,” Arwen remarked, trying to meet his eyes. However, Tyril averted his gaze, looking ahead.   

“It’s mine to bear.” 

His words were sharp as usual, but much less filled with the certainty he’s trying to convey. At that moment, she felt the urge to hug him and tell him he was not alone, not anymore. Of course she wouldn’t hug him, he’d probably stab her for even trying... 

“You have us now,” Arwen said, her words coated with a hopeful smile. “We’ll do it together.” 

Similar words were uttered by Nia, and the iron-willed orc captain assured they’d travel to the ends of every world to defeat this evil.  

Tyril’s steps faltered, but he didn’t stop his resolute march or looked at Imtura, Arwen or any of them.

“If we don’t rush, we’re not reaching Valenlon before nightfall.” His deep voice echoed, urging the others to match the pace he settled, but Arwen noticed a slight curl in the corner of his mouth.

It’s not much, but it’s a start.  

[harleybeaumont]

Never Have I Ever

Chapter 21 - Let's Just Forget the World

Book- TRR

Series- Never Have I Ever

Pairings- Bertrand x MC 

Chapter Synopsis- Bertrand has a surprise for Riley.

Chapter Warnings- language, drinking, innuendo -but mostly this is a fluffy chapter

Rating - Mature

Word Count- 1,830

A/N - once again, sorry it's been a while since I've posted a chapter. I included a snippet of what happened in chapter 20 to refresh your memory.

A/N 2- submitting for @choicesprompts flufftober event

Song Inspiration - this song is absolutely perfect for this chapter and gives me all the feels. Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol.

_____________________________________________________________

When they arrived back at the estate, it was already dinner time. Riley quickly popped into Max’s bedroom to check on him, and found him sound asleep in bed.

“I’m starving.” Riley sighed as she made her way toward the kitchen, taking a seat beside Bertrand at the bar.

“What would you like to eat? The chef has left for the night, but I can call and have something delivered for you.”

“Anything.. But you pick! I am mentally drained and honestly don’t think I could make another decision tonight if my life depended on it.”

Bertrand opened his mouth to protest, but paused as an idea hit him. “I know just the thing,” he smiled shyly and pulled out his phone.

He was going to have to step way out of his comfort zone for this. 

Chapter 21- Let’s Just Forget the World

After half an hour of bustling around the estate, Bertrand was finally ready to let Riley into his room to show her what he had been working on. He paused outside of the closed bedroom door nervously, starting to have second thoughts. “Why don’t we just go out and pick up dinner instead?”

“Nuh-uh. I have got to see what you’ve been up to. Now let me in.. before I make you,” she smirked teasingly, tracing her fingers down the front of his chest.

Bertrand sucked in a sharp breath and a shiver ran down his spine at her touch. There was no way he could say no to her. He had already accepted that fact. “Alright,” he grinned, reluctantly stepping aside.

He slowly swung the door open and Riley gasped, throwing her hand over her mouth. “Bert..” Her eyes began welling up with tears as she stepped toward the sitting area of his bedroom which had been converted into a blanket fort, with pizza, wine, and pillows on the floor. Fairy lights, which she was pretty sure he got from Max, were laid across the top of the blankets, casting a warm glow around the room. 

Bertrand watched her face with a mixture of hope and apprehension. He had never done anything so ridiculous or sentimental for anyone before and it was terrifying. “I.. I just thought that-”

Riley immediately engulfed him in a hug, squeezing tightly and burying her face in his chest. She sniffled and when she pulled back she was grinning ear to ear. “You did this?”

“I.. Yes.”

“You, Bertrand Beaumont, made a blanket fort.. for us?”

He felt his cheeks heat up and he opened his mouth, not sure what to say. “If you don’t like it, we can go to a nice restaurant or something!”

“This is the best thing anyone has ever done for me!” She wrapped her arms around him again, squeezing tightly. “I’m so touched that you would share such a special family tradition with me. Thank you.” 

He grinned, shocked that she recalled the story he told her about he and Maxwell doing this with their mother when they were young. “You remember?”

“Of course I do! I remember everything you say, Bert.” She laughed at his skeptical smile, “I mean, most things. I’m sorry I can’t remember things like King Leopold’s favorite goldendoodle’s middle name.. but when it comes to you, I remember everything.”

He chuckled as his cheeks pinkened, “You’re just flattering me.”

“I’m not, but I accept your flattery.”

The two sat beside one another under the blanket canopy and Bertrand poured them a glass of wine while Riley placed a slice of pizza on each of their plates. She was absolutely radiating excitement and Bertrand couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

“What?” She grinned in his direction before taking a sip from her glass.

Bertrand shook his head, chuckling. “Nothing.”

“Are you laughing at me?!”

“I am not. I’m just..I just feel..”

He looked away shyly and she took his hand. “Feel what?”

He met her eyes. “Happy.”

Her heart swelled and she rubbed her thumb across the back of his knuckles. “Me too.”

Bertrand looked up at the blanket draped over their heads, grinning thoughtfully. “This is the silliest thing I have ever done in my entire life, but I cannot imagine anything else I’d rather be doing right now.” 

Riley laced her fingers with his and squeezed. “Me too.”

Once they were full of pizza and wine, they lay on their backs in companionable silence. Riley turned to face him. “So what should we do now?”

“Are you ready for bed?” He yawned, “I’m afraid I had a bit too much wine and my eyelids are getting heavy.”

“No way! I have a tipsy Bertrand Beaumont in a blanket fort.. We have to do something fun.”

“Oh?” His mouth went dry as he pictured what type of fun she had in mind.

“Let’s play a game!”

“Oh.” He realized that he sounded way too disappointed, and tried to correct that. “Alright, what did you have in mind?”

She leaned closer and grinned. “What about, never have I ever?”

He gulped, “I uh.. I believe we’ve played that one before.”

Riley rolled onto her back, a light-hearted laugh escaping her. Her eyes traced the intricate pattern and stitching of the quilt that rested over the chair backs, forming the ceiling of their blanket fort. She couldn’t hold back a smile as she continued to gaze straight up, too overcome with emotion to even glance at the man beside her. She could feel his eyes on her and hear his steady breathing, and she closed her eyes, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne.. Subtle notes of bergamot and sandalwood and the natural pheromones on his skin that both comforted her and drove her wild. 

Her heart was bursting from the unbelievable feeling of normalcy, contentment, and utter joy she felt just laying beside him.  

“Never have I ever.. Done anything like this before.”

“Like what?” Bertrand asked.

“Blanket forts! Camping on the bedroom floor.. None of that.”

Bertrand smiled, “I suppose you got me there. For once, there’s something I’ve done that you haven't.”

Riley laughed, and Bertrand sat up slightly and took a sip of his wine. He lay back down, thinking for a moment before grinning. “Never have I ever.. received a gift on Valentine’s day.”

Riley’s mouth dropped open. “Never? Not even from a little secret admirer in school or anything? I find that hard to believe.”

“Nope. Go ahead and drink,” he nodded to her glass of wine. “I’m certain you have received loads of Valentine’s gifts.”

Riley took a sip of her wine and shook her head. “I’ve had a few. Not for a while, but..”

“So what were your best and worst Valentine's gifts?”

“Oof, that’s a tough one,” she groaned with a smile. “The worst was probably from a boyfriend I had in highschool. He gave me a bouquet of fake daisies that were missing half of the flowers from the stems. And inside the middle was a jewelry box. But when I opened it, there was just a condom inside.”

Bertrand made a face. “Wow. That is.. quite a presumptuous gesture.”

“One that got him nowhere,” she rolled her eyes. “The best Valentine’s gift was probably when I was in elementary school. This cute little boy with curly hair, Jordan McCall.. He gave me a plastic ring he had won at the arcade and a bunch of wildflowers he picked from his yard.” She turned toward Bertrand with a smile. “It’s the thoughtful things that mean the most, you know? Something that you put your heart into.”

Bertrand smiled at her for a long moment, but feeling like he had been staring too long, he cleared his throat and looked away. “Um, it’s your turn.”

Riley tapped a finger against her lips in thought. “Ok. Never have I ever.. had sex with my brother’s best friend.”

Bertrand’s mouth dropped open and his face flushed bright red. “Riley!”

She couldn’t stop her laughter and handed him his glass. “Drink up!”

He took a sip, unable to meet her eyes while a small smile pulled at his lips. “That was a cheap shot.”

“I came to win!” Riley nudged him and grinned, “Besides, I can’t help it. I love making you blush.”

“I'm glad that my humiliation amuses you.”

She rolled onto her side to face him and put a hand on his arm. “It’s cute. It totally gives me butterflies.”

Bertrand blushed deeper and looked away as butterflies of his own swarmed his insides. He tried to change the subject. “So, I suppose we’re tied.”

“Not for long,” Riley smiled cheekily. “You’re going down, Beaumont.”

“Oh really?”

“Really! Hit me with your best shot.”

Bertrand thought for a moment before a confident smirk alit his face.  “I definitely have you now Ms. Brooks. Get ready to take a drink. Never have I ever.. had sex with someone because I felt bad for them.”

Riley met his eyes with confusion and she shook her head. “Never.”

Bertrand arched an eyebrow skeptically. “What do you mean? What about.. You know..” He gestured at himself.

Riley’s heart sank. Had he thought this the entire time? “No, Bertrand. That’s not why I- no, never.”

His mind was racing as he asked, “Then.. why?”

Riley chewed the inside of her cheek, trying not to cross the line they had been tiptoeing toward for the last couple months. Screw it. “Bert, I had sex with you because I wanted to. I wanted you.”

His jaw dropped and he was nearly rendered speechless. “You- really?” Like, you really actually wanted to- not as a lesson, but like- really?”

Now it was Riley's turn to blush for once. She hugged her knees to her chest and smiled shyly. “Yes.”

Bertrand stared straight ahead, mind reeling. The silence between them stretched, neither knowing what to say now. 

Riley took a deep breath and reached out, grasping his hand. She looked directly into his eyes as she spoke. “Never have I ever.. told someone that I was in love with them.”

Bertrand released a breath, his eyes searching her face for a few moments. He was certain his heartbeat was loud enough for the entire duchy to hear.

Bertrand rested his hand against her cheek, swiping his thumb gently across her bottom lip. His eyes were full of a deep longing and affection she had never seen from anyone before. 

“Riley..” he breathed out softly and pressed his lips against hers, cradling her face with his hands. The kiss was tender, yet passionate and nothing like anything they had ever shared before. He lay her back against the soft pillows and blankets on the floor, relishing in the fact that it was really Riley kissing him. Her perfect, soft, gorgeous lips were actually against his. She had wanted to kiss him as much as he wanted to kiss her, and as unbelievable as that was, it was amazing and perfect. Bertrand was so overcome with emotion, he thought he might burst. 

They broke apart after a few moments, and Riley leaned forward giving him one more soft kiss before snuggling up to his side and resting her head on his shoulder. Bertrand wrapped his arm around her, resting his hand against her lower back and tracing soft circles with his fingers. The minutes stretched on as the two lay together on his bedroom floor. 

“Riley.. I.. really need to tell you something.” Bertrand murmured softly. When she didn’t respond, he raised his head slightly to look at her. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was slow and steady. She was sound asleep in his arms and everything was right with the world. Heart in his throat, he kissed her head and whispered. “I love you.”

[cariantha]

Drink Had Me

Book: Open Heart, Book 2 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: Teen Category: Fluff Word count: 3.3K Prompt: Ethan has too much to drink and winds up on Sawyer’s doorstep in the middle of the night. Event: I’m participating in the Song Rewrite Challenge hosted by @choicesprompts. This fic is a rewrite of Drink Had Me by Jordan Davis.

🎵Hell, I was up to nothing

🎵Just sittin' home alone

🎵Yeah, I was gonna cash it in

🎵About to put down my phone

🎵And I had a message waitin'

🎵Them boys won't let me sleep

🎵So I told 'em I would meet 'em out

🎵And just have one drink

Ethan was mentally and physically exhausted. He could feel the stress he’d been carrying deep in his bones. His muscles sighed as he sunk into the comfort of his couch and rested his head on the back cushion. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, enjoying the peace and quiet of his empty apartment. 

He tried to push aside the thoughts that had plagued him. The budget crisis. The selfish billionaire. The competition with Tobias. The situation with his mother. But mostly, it was Sawyer that occupied his mind. He worried that the constant push and pull between them was nearing a breaking point.

She had recently gone behind his back and opened Pandora’s box. She compromised the team’s mission. She called him a “goddamn diva” in front of his colleagues. Worst still, it’s what she said when helping him set up his Pictagram profile. “It’s love, Ethan. It doesn’t have to make sense. I guess you just… feel it.” The words nagged at him constantly, and not because she was probably right - like she was right about everything else - but because he felt something. Something unfamiliar. Something scary. Something he hoped was reciprocated. 

DING! That sound used to annoy him, but now it made him eager to check his phone, because there was only one person who insisted on texting him. Quickly reaching for his phone, he sighed disappointedly when he saw the message was not from Sawyer.

Ethan groaned. He had forgotten that this morning, while working out with his gym buddies, he made plans to meet them at Donahue's for drinks and a game of pool. In an attempt to rouse Rafael from his suspension-induced funk, Sawyer proposed the night out. And in all honesty, Ethan only agreed because he saw it as an opportunity to spend time with her. It was only after he committed to attend that Sawyer bothered to mention she had prior plans with Stephanie, their coma patient.   

Ethan arrived at Donohue’s thirty minutes later and swore to himself he would only stay for one drink.

“... and then she said, ‘Oh, would you prefer to be called a spoiled child or an entitled jackass?’ You should have seen your face, man.” Baz, who had wandered over earlier to say hello, couldn’t contain his laughter as he told the story of Sawyer calling Ethan a diva to everyone gathered around the pool table.  

Rolling his eyes, Ethan ordered another drink while the guys racked the pool balls for another game.

“... speaking of workouts... Raf, remember when you asked Sawyer why she liked to work out? And she said because she wants to look good naked. Dude. Best response ever,” Bryce recalled with a laugh as he shared another round of tequila shots.

Ethan gladly accepted, swallowing the cheap liquor in one gulp when the memory of Sawyer standing in front of his bedroom window came to mind. 

Every time Sawyer’s name was mentioned, which was surprisingly often, Ethan put a glass to his mouth. Better that than inadvertently slipping and revealing something he shouldn’t.

“Okay, time for a round of Fuck-Marry-Kill,” Bryce announced, earning a groan from Rafael. “Since you’re so excited to play, Raf, you can go first. JLo, Shakira, Taylor.”

“Easy. Fuck JLo. Marry Shakira. Kill Taylor,” Rafael answered. After taking a sip of beer, he turned to Elijah. “Your turn. Lara Croft, Leeloo from Fifth Element, and umm… Jamie Lee Curtis' character in Halloween.”

“Damn, man. Uhhh…” Elijah twisted up his lips as he pondered his answer. “I guess I’d fuck Croft, marry Leeloo, and go all Michael Myers on JLC.”

Raising his hand excitedly, Baz jumped in. “Oh, oh, I’ve got one for Ethan… Harper, June, and Sawyer.”

The other men snapped their heads to Ethan, bracing for the explosive impact. But to everyone’s surprise, Ethan threw back another shot and answered without hesitation. “Fuck Harper. Marry Sawyer. Kill June.” 

Reggie made the announcement for last call, and at midnight he kicked everyone out, including Ethan. The inebriated men stumbled outside to wait for their rides. Ethan decided to walk for a while, and bid them good night. He strolled down the block until he reached the rose garden near the hospital. Resting on a park bench, he dug his phone from his pocket. But instead of dialing for a ride to take him home, he called Sawyer.

🎵But the drink had me

🎵Callin' you up, talkin' all crazy

🎵Talkin' 'bout us

🎵And catchin' a ride over to your room

🎵And keepin' your roommates up past two

Sawyer’s phone lit up on her nightstand with an incoming call, but she didn’t notice. She had fallen asleep a couple hours ago.

On the other end of the line, Ethan heard her voice. “Hi there, you’ve reached Sawyer. Leave me a message.”

“Sawyer,” he sighed before continuing, “I don’t want to lose you.”

Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and stared at the phone screen. Sawyer’s contact picture smiled back at him. “I’m sorry I’ve been an asshole lately. I just… I want you so fucking bad,” he confessed. “I need you to be with me.”

He dropped his chin to his chest in defeat and growled. “But I can’t have you.”

He took a deep breath and lifted his head to look at her picture again. “I’ve been losing my goddamn patience with this situation. I don’t want to push you away anymore. It kills me to know that I’m hurting you, but I’m still afraid of what might happen if people find out about us.”

Ethan stood and held the phone at eye level as if trying to look her in the eye. “I feel like I’m on the verge of losing you, Sawyer.”

He began to pace back and forth and rambled on. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said a couple weeks ago. It really fucked me up, because I don’t think I’ve felt like this before.”

“God, Sawyer, you’re the best I’ve ever had,” he admitted, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want anyone else.”

He closed his eyes and whispered to himself. “Sawyer, say it back. Please say it back to me. I don’t want to be alone in this feeling.”

There was a long pause while Ethan stared at his phone, hoping for some sort of reply. “Fuck it. I’m coming over.”

<><><><><><><><><><>

It was nearly two o’clock in the morning when there was a knock on the apartment door. Sienna, who was still up baking, checked the peep hole and unlocked the door. “Dr. Ramsey! What are you doing here so late?”

His eyes were bloodshot and he smelled of whiskey and beer. The drink and exhaustion rapidly stripped away what little control of himself he had left. Ethan steadied himself with a hand on the doorframe and answered, “I need to talk to Sawyer. I need to see her. Is she here?”

Sienna invited him in. With her five-foot-nothing frame, she nervously guided the towering and swaying six-foot-four-inch sack of muscles into a seat at the kitchen table. “I’ll be right back.”

Gently knocking first, Sienna let herself into Sawyer’s room. “Sawyer? Sawyer, wake up,” she whispered loudly.

Sawyer awoke with a start, finding Sienna crouched at the side of her bed. “What’s wrong?” she panicked.

“Ummmm… Dr. Ramsey is here.”

“What?” she asked, confused.

“He said he needs to speak with you,” Sienna explained.

Sawyer threw her covers aside and stumbled out of bed wearing nothing but a t-shirt and underwear. She quickly checked the time on her phone, noticing the missed call and voicemail notifications from Ethan. “I swear to God, if he’s here to drag me out of bed for another diagnostics case…” she trailed off.

“I don’t think that’s why,” her friend said, leading her down the hallway.

Once her eyes adjusted to the fluorescent lighting in the kitchen, Sawyer spotted Ethan sitting at the kitchen table, his head buried in his hands. His body language reminded her of the times when he had felt pretty hopeless, like when Dolores died and when Naveen was sick. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Ethan lifted his head and let out a small sigh of relief recognizing her. “I wanted to talk to you,” he said, his voice tired and gravelly.

She followed his eyes to Sienna, who had gone back to her baking. “Let’s go to my room.”

Ethan stood and followed her down the hall. A sudden wave of dizziness washed over him and he threw himself against the wall to keep from stumbling over. Sawyer grimaced at the loud thump, hoping it didn’t wake her other roommates. She quickly tucked herself under his arm and helped him the rest of the way.

Just as her door clicked closed, Jackie poked her head into the hallway. “What the hell was that?” she called out.

Sienna came into view from the kitchen. “Sorry, Jackie, that was me. Sorry I woke you.”

“Do you ever sleep, Trinh?” Jackie yawned, shutting her door and going back to bed.

🎵The drink had me

🎵Wantin' one more

🎵Wantin' to forget what we broke up for

🎵And doin' that make up, wake up thing

🎵I just went in there to have one drink

🎵But the drink had me

Sawyer sat Ethan down on the side of her bed, then stood in front of him casually crossing her arms. “What’s going on? Did something happen? Is this about your mom?”

His head felt like a sloshing fishbowl when he shook it. Focusing on her bare feet, he attempted to ground himself.

Getting more worried, Sawyer stroked her fingers through his hair. “Hey, talk to me.”

Slowly lifting his head, Ethan’s eyes trailed up her long legs to the oversized Hopkins t-shirt she wore. “Is that my shirt?”

Glancing down at the heather gray tee, she replied with a hint of embarrassment, “Yes.”

Sawyer braced her hands on his shoulders to keep her balance when Ethan tugged her close. Standing between his knees, he hugged her tightly around the waist and rested the side of his face against her stomach.

“I miss you,” he mumbled.

A beat later his hands dropped to the back of her thighs. His fingertips lightly caressed her soft skin, eliciting goosebumps. Lifting his eyes to gauge her reaction, he slowly slid his hands higher, palming her backside and giving a gentle squeeze.

“Ethan,” she warned, gripping his forearms to prevent his hands from wandering any further.

“I want you,” he said, kissing her belly through the t-shirt she had stolen from him.

“Ethan, you’re drunk.”

“Say it back,” he whined.

“Say what back?”

“That you still want me.”

She sighed deeply. “Ethan…” When he looked at her with desperate, pleading eyes, she took a seat on his knee. “I want you too,” she repeated and cupped his cheek, “but not like this. Not a drunken mistake.”

“It’s not a mistake,” Ethan asserted. “I know what I want.”

She shook her head. “I know you, Ethan. You’ll regret it in the morning when you’re clearheaded.”

Ethan began to protest when the nausea hit. “I won’t… I–,” he paused and swallowed, “I’m going to be sick.”

Sawyer jumped off his lap and grabbed her garbage pail just in time. Ethan wretched the contents of his stomach while she soothingly rubbed his back. When he was finished, Sawyer offered him a tissue and a sip from her water bottle. She then knelt before him and removed his shoes and socks.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting you ready for bed. You’re in no shape to go anywhere right now. You can stay here and sleep it off.” As she stood, she reached for the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his head. “Scoot back and lie down,” she instructed. Ethan complied.

She met his hooded eyes, giving him a look of warning. “Don’t get any ideas,” she said before unbuttoning his pants. “Lift your butt.” After carefully tugging off his jeans, she neatly folded his clothes and set them atop her dresser. Returning to his side, she tucked him under the covers.

“Where are you going?” he murmured when she stepped toward the door.

“I’m just going to clean this up and grab you some aspirin,” she answered, picking up the small waste bin. “Do you need or want anything else?”

Ethan shook his head.

“I’ll be right back,” she promised with an assuring smile.

When Sawyer returned a few minutes later, Ethan’s eyes were closed and he was lightly snoring. She turned out the lights and crawled under the covers. Hugging the edge of her full-size bed, she resisted the urge to curl up next to him, and soon dozed off.

🎵Next morning came too early

🎵Heart poundin' in my head

🎵And it took me just a second

🎵To realize I know this bed

🎵And it ain't where I belong

🎵But you got my T-shirt on

🎵I blame the alcohol

🎵No, it ain't my fault

🎵The drink had me

Ethan’s head throbbed. The sound of distant, muffled voices had woken him. He cracked his eyes open, thankful for the dim surroundings. Blinking away the fog in his vision, he focused on the ceiling. There was something familiar about the dangling light fixture overhead. A single lightbulb hung from a rope cord. The gentle breeze that wafted through the window caused it to sway back and forth in a hypnotizing motion. Aware that he was not at home, Ethan’s eyes swept the small bedroom, taking in every detail. As recognition set in, his heart began to race, intensifying the pounding in his head.

Taking a deep breath through his nose, his senses were overwhelmed with the sweet smell of her. Daring to cast a quick look downward, he found Sawyer tucked into his side. Her arm was draped across his torso, her thigh across his waist, with a foot nestled between his legs. Ethan’s right arm was at her back, holding her close. His left hand gripped the back of her bent knee, as if he had been using the leverage to keep her locked in place. She was wearing his t-shirt, and he was only wearing underwear.

He reached into the black box of his mind for any remembrance, but came back empty handed. He didn’t know what to be more upset about. The eventual fallout from this reckless encounter, or the cruel twist of fate of taking Sawyer to bed again and not remembering a damn thing about it.

When her alarm rang out, Ethan silently cursed. “No, not yet.” He needed more time to figure his way out of this mess. More time holding her body against his.

Sawyer groaned in frustration as her phone sang a melodic tune of chirping birds. As she did every morning, she buried the tip of her cold nose into her pillow and inhaled. Only it wasn’t her pillow she smooshed her face into this morning. It was Ethan’s chest. His warmth and scent aroused her senses, and she was instantly awake.

Seeing that he was too, she pushed back from him and tried to cover herself with the forgotten comforter. “Shit, sorry,” she whispered, rolling away to silence her phone.

Her surprise and embarrassment confused him. “Why are you apologizing?”

She turned to face him, making sure to keep a safe distance. “I tried to keep to my side. I must have rolled over in my sleep and snuggled up to you.”

“Keep to your side? Did we not…?”

She shook her head.

Ethan looked up at the ceiling and expelled a breath.

Sensing his relief, Sawyer swiftly climbed out of bed. “I’m going to get ready for work. Your clothes are on the dresser and your phone is charging on the desk. My roommates should be leaving soon.”

“Sawyer-”

“It’s fine, Ethan,” she said, rummaging through her dresser drawers. “We can talk about it later when you feel better. Or if you prefer, not at all, because nothing happened.” Ethan rubbed the spot between his eyes. “There's some water and aspirin on the nightstand,” she pointed out before stepping into the hall and closing the door behind her.

A while later, they left the apartment and shared a ride to the hospital, successfully avoiding the topic of last night. They limited their conversation to simple questions and one-word answers, merely enough to get out the door and on their way.

“Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Sawyer said, and not waiting for reciprocation, she hurried away.

Ethan watched until she disappeared through the sliding doors of the hospital’s main entrance. He cursed at himself the entire walk to Donohue’s to retrieve his car. They may not have slept together, but he still ended up on her doorstep last night and tangled in her bed this morning. He hoped once the hangover cleared, he would remember why, so they could clear the air.

<><><><><><><><><><>

Sawyer was slow to leave the diagnostics office when their team meeting ended the next day. The tension between her and Ethan was so thick it felt like it could be cut with a knife. She couldn’t take it anymore. She turned to study him, watching as he stacked case files, doing his best to ignore her. “This feels like the morning after Miami all over again,” she finally spoke.

Ethan stopped what he was doing, took a deep breath, and braced himself for the conversation he had been dreading. “I’m sorry for inconveniencing you the other night.”

She shook her head as if she didn’t care about that. Shifting her gaze out the window, she bit the corner of her lip before speaking again. “Do you remember calling me? Leaving a voicemail?”

Ethan swallowed hard. He had checked his phone yesterday and knew that he dialed her number, but didn’t recall leaving a message. “No. I only remember bits and pieces after leaving Donahue’s.” He took a cautious step toward her. “What... what did I say?” he asked, trying to hide his nerves.

“It doesn't matter,” she sighed, still looking out the window, “you probably didn't mean it.” She downplayed her disappointment with a quiet chuckle, “I never pegged you for a sappy drunk.”

Ethan stepped in front of her, cupping her chin to force her to look at him. “I meant it,” he said firmly.

“You just said you don’t remember–”

“I don't,” he interjected, “but if the result was me showing up at your door, and waking up with you in my arms, then whatever I said… I meant it.” Gazes locked on each other, Ethan gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. He breathed a sigh of relief when Sawyer’s lips finally turned up in a small, forgiving smile.

That smile slowly changed to a mischievous one. Ceasing the opportunity, she started to back away as she spoke. “Well in that case…" She bit her lip to keep from laughing. “I want to get married in June. A fancy church wedding and a huge reception. Oh, and let’s honeymoon in Paris! It will be so romantic.”

“Funny–”

“But you should know, I plan to keep my last name,” she continued teasing.

“You’re a brat. Get out of here,” he demanded, playfully tossing a pen in her direction as she scrambled to leave.

“Hey!” she yelped, using the door as a shield.

“Oh, and I want my shirt back!” he hollered.

Poking her head back in, she offered a deal. “If you can get me out of it, Ramsey... it’s yours. See ya!”

A/N: Ethan's drunken confession was also inspired by the song Say It Back by Nicklas Sahl.

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @peonierose@potionsprefect @trappedinfanfiction @jerzwriter @queencarb @coffeeheartaddict2 @quixoticdreamer16 @jamespotterthefirst @liaromancewriter @zealouscanonindeer @tveitertotwrites @tessa-liam @youlookappropriate @kyra75 @socalwriterbee @txemrn

[cordonianroyalairlines]

All I Want for Christmas Part 2

Series: Cordonian Royal Airlines

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for series: Various

Pairing for this chapter: Riley x Drake, Liam x Max

Word Count: 2,848

Rating: General

Warnings for this chapter: none

Submissions: @choicesprompts rewrite challenge, holiday edition TRR x Untamed Heart (one of my all-time favorite movies). @choicesficwriterscreations holiday prompt: Stuck together in the snow; @choicesdecember2023 Christmas and @choicesholidays: This is the worst/best Christmas ever.

A/N: So the end of this is based very loosely on a scene from Untamed Heart. I looked for a clip of the scene in question but couldn't find one. You'll have to trust me that this is one of the most underrated movies of all time. If you've never seen it, you should look it up and watch it.

“Hey, you okay?”

“What?” Riley glanced up in surprise, wiping the wetness from her face with the palm of her hand, “I’m fine.”

“Hm.” Drake grunted as he pulled out a chair and sat down without waiting for an invitation. “You don’t look fine.”

She tried to laugh and cry at the same time and the sound came out as a little hiccup, “Sorry, it’s just Christmas Eve, you know?”

“Yeah….” He said carefully, reluctant to reveal that he didn’t know, not really. He had a mother and a sister, but he wasn’t close to either one. “So, you had plans, I take it?”

“Of course! Every year we all go to my parents’ house for Christmas. My brother Ryder and his wife and kids, my sister Amelia and her fiancé, and my brother Jory will be home from school, and this is Declan’s last year at home before he goes off to university…. I’ll be the only one not there this year….”

“So, you’re close to your siblings?” He set the bottle and glass on the table between them and gestured toward it. “Drink?”

She shook her head. “No thanks. And yes, I’m very close to my siblings and my parents.”

“Would you like something else? I’ll buy you a drink. You can tell me about your siblings.”

“I wouldn’t say no to an amaretto sour…”

An hour later, she looked up to find him smiling at her softly. She flushed as she realized she had been dominating the conversation. “I’m so sorry! I’m just rambling on and on about myself and my family! Tell me about yours!”

“Nah,” he waved her off, “There’s not much to tell. I’d rather hear about yours. Your brother Jory sounds hilarious. Declan should definitely dump that guy, and I agree with Max about your sister. It sounds like she takes your love and support for granted.”

“Max and Amelia have never gotten along,” Riley said with a sigh.

“You’ve known Max for a long time, huh?”

“Since we were teenagers. He’s the one that talked me into becoming a flight attendant and got me this job.”

“You didn’t want to be a flight attendant?”

She shrugged as she pulled her drink closer to her and toyed with the rim, “I was deep in my I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up phase.”

“And now?”

“I like it. I don’t know if it’s what I want to do forever, but it’s really fun for right now. I have no complaints.”

The tension that had set in his back and shoulders at the thought of her quitting eased out of him as he relaxed back into his chair. “As airline jobs go, this is about as good as it gets.”

“You’re not wrong.” Not only did the private airline pay better than commercial airlines, but there were many perks from more flexible schedules to stipends for living expenses while traveling and generous bonuses. But the biggest benefit was getting to work with her best friend. All in all, she really couldn’t complain. “Thanks, Drake.”

“For what?”

“Taking the time to sit here and cheer me up. You didn’t have to do that. I’m sure you have plenty of things you’d rather be doing than listening to me go on and on about my family.”

He scoffed as he looked away from her and lifted his glass to his mouth. “I really don’t.” He was estranged from his family, single, and his only real friend was Liam. All of which was usually fine with him. He preferred it that way honestly, seeing himself as a lone wolf. Community and togetherness were overrated. He needed very little to be happy.

Something about this girl made him want more, though, and the feeling unsettled him.

“Well, at any rate, thank you,” she yawned, “but I should probably get back up to my room.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” he glanced at his watch as he stumbled to his feet, “Me too. I’ll walk you up.”

The look she gave him sent butterflies exploding through his chest and he quickly clarified, “For safety, you know.”

“Right,” she nodded in agreement, but the smile that played across her lips said she understood exactly what was going on between them.

Good thing one of them did.

Entering the elevator, he reached out and pressed the button for the twelfth floor. He turned his head to find her giving him a measuring look. “What?”

“I didn’t tell you what floor I was on. How did you know?”

His eyes widened as he stared at her like a deer caught in the headlights. He had never felt so much panic surge through his body at one time and he had flown into combat zones before leaving the military for the private sector. His scotch-laden brain struggled to come up with a response that didn’t include telling her he had asked Liam what floor she was staying on. “Max must have mentioned it.” He mumbled.

“When did you talk to Max?”

He was saved from answering when her phone vibrated, and she quickly answered a text from one of her brothers. He heaved out a sigh of relief and changed the subject. “So, what do you like best about Christmas other than your family? The presents?”

“No,” she laughed, “The tree and decorations. There’s just something so peaceful about the lights and ornaments. Waking up to my mom’s ham and cheese omelets for Christmas breakfast. Oh, and I love the music!”

“Yeah? What’s your favorite Christmas song?”

“Jingle Bell Rock,” she replied without hesitation. “I know it’s not the most popular, or sentimental, but I love the beat and I love horses, so there you go. What’s yours?”

“Mine? Oh, no, I don’t have-“

“Come on, Drake, you have to have a favorite Christmas song!”

“Okay, okay, if you put a gun to my head then I guess I’d say it’s Do They Know It’s Christmas.”

Her mouth fell open. “Really?”

“Yeah, really, why is that surprising?”

“I don’t know. I figured you for a Rocking Around the Christmas Tree kind of guy. Why is Do They Know It’s Christmas your favorite?”

“I don’t know,” he jostled his body weight from foot to foot as he silently willed the elevator to hurry the fuck up, “I think it’s the juxtaposition of mindless consumerism with the destitution of impoverished peoples. It makes you think. Or it should.”

“Wow, Drake. You have hidden depths. I knew it!”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “You think about my depths?”

It was Riley’s turn to flush as she spun her body back to face the doors just as they dinged open. “Well, here we are!”

He saw her safely to her door in a silence that suddenly felt comfortable and right, as if him walking her to her door was a normal, everyday occurrence.

She opened the door and looked back over her shoulder, “Thank you again….for everything.”

“I should be thanking you for saving me from drinking alone. See you tomorrow, Riley.”

“See you tomorrow, Drake. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” he said as her door closed.

He stood outside her door for a long moment as he talked himself out of knocking on it and asking her to let him in.

Relationships with co-workers never ended well. He would know.

He turned and started trudging back down the hallway toward the elevator when he was seized by a sudden inspiration. Whipping his phone from his pocket, his fingers flew over the keyboard as his pace quickened and he hurried briskly back to his room, a smile of anticipation curving up his lips.

***

The next morning, Riely rolled out of bed and pulled the curtains open to see the area blanketed in freshly fallen snow, but it was all on the ground. Nothing fell from the clear blue sky.

With a squeal of joy, she bounced back to the bed to grab her phone from the nightstand, preparing to call Liam and ask if they had a takeoff time and then Max to find out how things had gone with Liam the night before, but before she could dial either number, it vibrated in her hand. She glanced down to see a text message in the group chat Liam had created yesterday when he invited everyone to dinner. It was from Drake.

Meet me in the Mountain Vista conference room.

That was odd, but okay. She quickly dressed and hurried out into the hallway, bumping into Max as she did so. “Were you waiting outside my door?”

“I was about to knock! I guess you got the text from Drake?”

“Yeah, but it’s weird, right? I mean, his entire contribution to the group chat yesterday was the word okay. And not even the whole word, just the two letters O.K.”

“I don’t know, but I hope it involves food! Come on, let’s go!”

When they arrived at the lower-level conference room, Max pulled the door open, and Riley walked into a stunning surprise.

Christmas finery draped the entire room. A six-foot tree adorned the center of the raised stage at the front of the room, fully decorated, complete with an angel on top. There were gift-wrapped packages under the tree. Christmas music spilled out of the speakers and a buffet table lined the far wall. She turned in circles, taking in the decorations everywhere, her mouth agape, “What is all this?”

“Uh…” Drake rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Nothing. I mean it is Christmas! Just thought you- um, just thought everyone could use a little Christmas cheer this morning.”

“You did all this?”

“Yeah…”

“Drake, it’s amazing! But why? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining at all, but there’s a Christmas tree in the lobby.”

“I know, but that’s just a generic hotel tree for everybody. I thought you deserved something a little more personal.”

She stared up at him with wide eyes. “You did all this for me?”

“I mean….for all of us,” he declared hurriedly, turning away so she wouldn’t see the red coloring his cheeks. “I even managed gifts.” He plucked a package out from under the tree and held it out to her. “Don’t get too excited, they’re just t-shirts from the hotel gift shop. I got one for each of us.”

Riley watched as Drake tossed one to Liam, who had entered the room just behind them, and then Max. He kept the last one for himself. “Hope they fit.”

“How the hell did you accomplish all this?” A tinge of awe colored Liam’s voice.

Drake lifted his shoulder. “I just made a few phone calls and had things delivered.”

“They delivered all this in a snowstorm?” Max gaped at him.

“Well, the blizzard is over,” Drake scoffed, gesturing out the plate-glass windows along the side of the room. “This is just a lot of snow.”

“Ah, you missed your family today, too!” Riley gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Yeah.” Drake agreed as he turned his head to avoid the sharp look Liam gave him. “We should eat while this is still hot.”

“Ohhhh,” Max rubbed his hands together, “Good idea! It smells delicious!”

Drake followed behind Riley and Max toward the food. Liam sidled up next to him and lowered his voice so no one else could hear, “You never spend Christmas with your family.”

“What? Yeah, no, that’s….. you like waffles, right? Because I ordered waffles.”

“Oh, my god!” Riley exclaimed, “Ham and cheese omelets!”

“And bacon,” Max pointed out. “Don’t forget the bacon. Oh! And crepes!”

Her gaze slid thoughtfully to Drake as Max loaded his plate. “Did you order this because of what I told you last night?”

“Order what?” Drake shook his head as he reached for a plate. “I just asked for food. Lucky coincidence.”

“Okay.” She gave him an appraising look. He avoided direct eye contact with her.

The group sat down at a table near the center of the room and enjoyed breakfast together. Riley bit into a forkful of fluffy eggs, melted cheese, savory ham, and crisp onions as she took in the comforting twinkle of Christmas lights reflecting off red and gold ornaments. Max was already wearing the shirt Drake had given him and a Santa hat that he had produced from seemingly nowhere. All of it was set against the backdrop of sheer whiteness that could be seen through the conference room windows. Every ice-covered tree, bush and light post sparkled in the bright morning sun. A sense of peace and contentment that she hadn’t expected to feel on this particular morning settled over her as the group ate and laughed together.

Her phone rang. “It’s my mom!” she answered and after several tearful exchanges of I love you, I miss you and Merry Christmas, she addressed the group, “My mom wants to say hi to everyone.” She placed the phone in the middle of the table and pushed the speaker button so Catherine Brooks could wish the entire flight crew a Merry Christmas. “And especially you, Drake!” she gushed. “Riley told me about the tree and decorations. Thank you for making the day special for her. You’re a good friend.”

“I’m glad she liked it. I just thought we could all use a pick me up since everyone is missing the day with their family,” he lied. The truth was, he couldn’t stand to see her sad. The smile that had washed over her face and stayed there since she had first walked into the conference room made every bit of effort and expense he had gone to more than worth it.

Not that he was interested in her. He didn’t get involved with co-workers.

“Well, nevertheless, thank you and if you’re ever in our neck of the woods, we would love to meet you!”

“Ah…sure, that would be…all right…”

Drake was rescued by Max, who leaned over the phone to yell “I love you!” and “Merry Christmas!” at Riley’s family.

When every member of the Brooks family had spoken to both Riley and Max and the call was finally over, Liam looked up from his own phone and announced, “Great news…we can fly out now!”

“I almost don’t want to.” Max blurted out and then flushed from the tip of his nose all the way down to his toes. “I mean….I just meant this is nice, and it’s warm in here….”

“It’s okay, Max,” Liam grinned at him, “This has been nice, but we do need to get back home. If we don’t make it back today, we’ll have to reschedule tomorrow’s flight, and then I’ll have to deal with Madeleine and her bullshit.”

Drake shuddered. “Why the fuck did Leo give her part ownership again?”

“He didn’t give it to her,” Liam shook his head as he returned his phone to his pocket, “the judge in their divorce did.”

“Still. She acts like her twenty-five percent is controlling interest or something.”

“Tell me about it.” Liam was not overly fond of his ex-sister-in-law, but he couldn’t deny that she was skilled with the parts of the business he disliked, such as accounting and marketing. He just wanted to fly; and Madeleine taking over those parts, had allowed him to do exactly that.

“Well, I guess we should all go pack then,” Max headed toward the door, “You coming, Riley?”

“In a minute. You go on. And you’re still coming home with me today, right?”

“Bert won’t be home until tomorrow, so yes.”

Liam hurried across the room. “Hold on, Max, I’ll walk up with you!”

Riley and Drake watched them leave, then turned to each other. They stood silent and unmoving for a long moment in the middle of the Christmas finery, eyes searching eyes, unspoken emotions playing across both faces.

She took a step forward, “Drake…”

He caught her hand in his as she reached out for him. “Riley…we can’t…”

“And yet you did all this.”

“I’m sorry. It’s not you. It’s me.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her fingers, then quickly dropped it. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Drake, and thank you. Really. It means a lot to me.” She leaned in, went up on her tiptoes and placed a soft kiss on his cheek before whispering in his ear, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone that you’re a gooey, mushy marshmallow on the inside. Your reputation is safe.”

A short laugh escaped him as she stepped away. He watched her walk to the door with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that was at odds with the soaring feeling in his chest.

She liked him, right?

Not that it mattered. It was a bad idea to get involved with a co-worker.

As she slipped out the door, panic sliced through his being as he realized that he was involved.

He was very involved.

He heaved a sigh that was full of both resignation and wonder as he made his way back to his room to pack.

[peonierose]

Round Robin: Chapter 5 - Don’t call me Angel

Book: OH & TRR crossover

Characters mentioned: Luna Auclair (F!OC - OH), Bryce Lahela (M!MC - OH), Tobias Carrick (M!MC - OH, Maxwell Beaumont (M!MC - TRR) and Bertrand Beaumont (M!MC - TRR)

Words in total: 3,373k

A/N: Masterlist for Round Robin @choicesprompts I’m participating for Round Robin for the 1st time and I really hope I could do the characters justice 🥰

Side note: Thank you so much for helping me with this story and helping me get inspired @aallotarenunelma & @annieruok94 🩷🩷🩷🩷

A few weeks ago…

Luna

The phone rang somewhere in the house while I was in the middle of an art project.

A few seconds later I heard footsteps and when I turned around I saw Bryce appear in the doorway, handing me my phone.

”Who is it?“ I asked and turned to my canvas again.

”No idea some fancy talking guy said he wanted to talk to you.“

”Is he sure he got the right person?“ ”Beats me.“

I furrowed my brow and pushed my dark blonde hair out of my face and accidentally got some teal paint in my hair. Good thing it’ll wash out.

”Hello?“ I wiped my paint covered fingers on a cloth I kept handy when I painted.

”Am I speaking to Ms. Luna Auclair?“ A deep voice with a slight accent can be heard from the other end.

”Yes. And who is this?“ I put the phone on speaker and got up slowly as I took my brushes to the sink to wash them.

”My name is Bertrand Beaumont from House Beaumont in Cordonia. I’m sure you’ve heard of me.“

”Hmm. Sorry doesn’t ring a bell.“ I say not able to resist teasing him. Bryce snickered next to me.

”You’re so mean.“ He mouthed, and I kissed his stubbled cheek, making him smile.

I turned back to the conversation, putting Bertrand out of his misery. Poor guy must’ve thought the worst of me.

”I’m just kidding Mr. Beaumont I know who you are. So what can I do for you?“ I turned off the faucet and put my paint brushes upside down so they could dry.

”I could use your help.“ He sounded hesitant, which made me instantly curious.

”Help with what?“

”We have our PR firm that we founded, and we’re trying to give some people a better public image.“ I took my phone into my hand.

”What does that have to do with me? I’m not a PR person. I have a bachelor's degree in fine arts, and I’m currently teaching art at the University of Hawaii.“

I took a look at my half-finished painting sitting on the easel, and decided to let the painting dry for now. I’ll keep working on it later.

When I closed the door Bryce and I walked towards the backyard, where we sat down in our beach chairs, while Bertrand’s voice kept coming out of the speaker.

”I’m very well aware. But I know you’re someone who’s skilled as an artist. And I know you think outside the box, and that’s exactly what we need.“

”I will need more information than that if you want my help.“ I could hear some commotion before another voice replaced Bertrand's.

”Luna right? Hi I’m Maxwell, Bertrand’s brother. Look, my brother's social skills suck sometimes. I have the cliff notes version if you want it?“

”Um…sure fire away.“

”Alright. A few weeks ago there was a bit of an…let’s call it an incident. Tobias Carrick was caught making out with the daughter of one of the hospital directors of Mass Kenmore. Someone apparently posted it online. Of course, it’s gone viral. The damage is done and he could get fired. Because apparently it’s unethical.“

”Poor Tobias. He’s a good friend of me and my fiancé Bryce so he has our sympathies especially since this a massive violation of their privacy to put the video online. I’m really sorry he’s going through that.“

I looked at Bryce who was as surprised as me to hear about this.

”Both Bertrand and I feel terrible, because Tobias seems like such a great guy and then for someone to swoop in and destroy his image like that. This is actually where you come into play. Let’s just say we’ve tried other people to fix his image, but it didn’t work.“

”Like I told your brother, I’m not a PR person. I have zero experience.“

”That’s not what we’re looking for. I’m talking about your other accolades. You’re not only one of the youngest people to finish your bachelor degree, but one where all your professors had only glowing compliments for you. You also published your own book, called Kala Kala - Overcoming anxiety with the help of art. Very nice read. I loved it, it’s also super colorful by the way. Not only do you teach art at the senior center, you’re an active member at arts on the fence, a non-profit organization in Honolulu, Hawaii. You love malasdas and are allergic to ginger. Should I continue? I’ve got more.“

”I…no…that’s fine. But how did you find out that much about me? Not everything is available online.“ I was wondering how the hell they got my phone number, and all the things in my bio Maxwell just mentioned. Why would they even be interested in seeking out my help?

”Let’s say a mutual, redhead found out about it. She bought some of your art, and she said you could be a good fit. I think the phrase »ovaries of steel« was mentioned.“

I gasped in awe.

”You don’t mean Olivia Nevrakis do you? Because then I’m so in. I’d love to meet her. And of course help out in any way I can.“

I heard a whoop and a sigh.

”Is that a yes?“ Maxwell asked unsure.

”Hold on a sec.“ I muted the conversation.

”What do you think B?“ I asked Bryce and I could see his beautiful face, that I could sketch every single day and not get tired of looking at.

”I mean I’m sorry Tobias is going through this. He’s our friend, but are you sure you’re up for it?“ His brown eyes were filled with worry as he gently caressed my stomach.

”I’ll be fine. Women have gotten pregnant before and have worked until they’ve given birth.“ I said with more conviction than I felt right now.

”I know you’re trying to be strong but okay. If you’re really sure, then I’m okay with it, but the smallest hitch, and we’re going back home. And don’t think of going alone. I don’t care who they are. You’re my fiancé and the mother of my kids. So they better believe I’ll be going with you.“

”I love your protective mode.“

”Out of all the things I’ve said, that’s what you focused on?“

I grinned and then I unmuted the conversation.

”Maxwell? I’m in.“

”Thanks Luna. I promise you won’t regret it.“

”I better don’t. Otherwise, you’ll hear me yell at you.“

Maxwell chuckled.

”You got it. There’ll be a private jet to pick you up. I’ll send you the arrival date. Can’t wait to meet you. From the pictures I’ve seen, you're really beautiful.“

”Careful there Casanova.“ Bryce chimed in, and I grinned as I pushed my hand through his soft brown hair, making him relax.

”No worries, I know she’s taken. We’ll see you soon in Cordonia, bye.“

Before I could say anything else the phone call ended. Bryce and I just stared at the phone and then laughed at how surreal the situation was.

Who would’ve thought I’d meet members of House Beaumont?

Though it looked as if a new adventure was coming our way.

5 days later

So here I was on day five not making any kind of improvement whatsoever.

I’ve tried talking to Tobias, but nothing worked to get through to him.

He acted as if nothing was wrong and there’s no part where he could lose his job. He’s been painted as the bad guy but doesn’t seem to care.

I got up this morning, let Bryce sleep in a little, as I went down to the pool to figure out a new strategy for how to fix this mess.

That’s when I saw Tobias flirting with a woman by the pool.

You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m trying to repair his image, and he’s out here flirting? Oh, hell no!

”Having fun?“ I asked when I stood next to him. Tobias turned his light green eyes to me, focusing on me rather than the woman he was just talking to a minute ago.

As if he wasn’t already good-looking enough, the smile he threw my way made his face even more beautiful.

”Good morning to you too, gorgeous.“

”Sorry buddy but that charm is wasted on me. I’m engaged and I’m expecting.“

”Does that mean I can’t flirt with you?“ Tobias smirked.

”You can. But it won’t have any effect.“ I said and took a towel from the rack and threw it at him.

”Get dressed.“ I said, and he took the towel, but didn't move. He threw an apologetic smile at the woman who was sitting next to him. She slipped him a small piece of paper and left. He watched her walk away and nodded his head in appreciation.

I cleared my throat, and he turned his gaze on me.

”Let me guess you have another glorious idea how to restore my image?“

”You can call it that. You have 10 minutes to get dressed and be back.“

”Let’s make it 15 alright?“ Tobias laughed.

”Now it’s 9 minutes.“

”Does that tone ever work on Bryce?“

”I’m not going to repeat myself.“

”Now you sound like a school teacher.“ He replied but got up. That’s progress I guess.

”Look, I was assigned to give you some sort of glowing makeover for your reputation. If you don’t want it? Fine. I have better things to do.“

Tobias stared back at me, his charm gone.

”Like what? Be all sunshiny? No offense, but don’t you ever have a bad day or get angry? In all the time you’ve been here you’re always smiling and never losing your cool. You’re more like a robot.“

His comment hit me more than I thought it would, so I got up in his face. Which is hard since he’s taller than me, but I made it work.

”Don’t mistake my bubbly personality for being just that. There’s a lot more to my character and my personality than being happy and positive. You don’t know me that well if your words are any indication.“

His eyes widened for a fraction.

”My bad.“

”And that was lesson number 12.“

Tobias rolled his eyes.

”What I don’t get is why they even assigned you to me? We’re polar opposites.“

”You know what’s interesting? In our whole convos, you’ve avoided talking about this whole incident that led up to this moment right now. You keep acting as if you don’t care, and it’s no concern of yours. But you avoid talking about the core problem.“

Tobias crossed his arm.

”Please enlighten me.“

”You’re not a bad guy. But you’d rather have people believe you’re a dick then let them think you have a heart. That’s interesting.“

”Are you done psychoanalyzing me?“ His voice sounded more and more irritated.

”If you think that we’re done? Then you don’t know me at all. We’re just getting started. Get dressed. And don’t be late. If you’re not down in 5 minutes I’m leaving. So dealers choice.“

”Fine, I'll go get dressed. Doesn’t mean this conversation is over.“

”Now it’s 8 minutes.“ I said and watched him quicken his steps while I sat down and enjoyed the nice view of the ocean.

10 minutes later…

”What is this place?“ He asked without really seeming to pay attention.

”It’s called a room. With walls and windows. And sometimes there’s even a door.“

He snickered.

”I know what a room is. I meant what are we doing in this room?“ He looked at all the cans of paint I had people assemble for this exercise.

”That’s the fun part. Team building exercise. It’s also pregnancy safe, which is a plus.“ I grinned, but he just looked at me and didn't reply.

”The point of this exercise is to let go of past hurts. Look at it this way, you can just let all your anger out. I like to call it angry painting.“

I take a can of paint, open it and see the color coral crush. I took it and threw some at the wall.

Tobias regarded me and I handed him another can, he took it but stared at it as if it’s been touched by Medusa herself.

”Do you even know how to get angry?“ He looked at me skeptically as he kept holding the paint can in his hands.

”Excuse me?“

He opened the can of paint and a soft canary yellow joined the coral crush tone on the wall.

”Look, all you’ve said is how I have a heart and I don’t let others see it. But you don’t even know me. How do you expect me to trust you?“

”Is this finally the heart-to-heart you’re giving me? One that the others failed to get?“

”Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to partner up.“ He set the can down and was about to walk away.

”Giving up so soon? That’s a shame.“

”What?“ He stopped and slowly turned my way.

”I know you’re the type of guy who likes to do things rather than sit around and talk.“

”You’ve been paying attention? I’m shocked. Everybody knows I’m competitive, that's not a secret.“

”Of course I’ve been paying attention. You know I have bad days and angry moments too. I’m not just some blonde bimbo, who can’t count to three. I notice a lot more than people think.“

”Such as?“ He raised his eyebrows daringly as he leaned against the door frame.

”When you get nervous you bite your lip and clench your left fist. Which would lead me to believe you are left-handed.“

I kept going.

”Whenever I ask you a personal question or try to tackle the issue, you laugh it off, meaning you’re not ready to talk to me or improve your image. You think it’s fine and it doesn't need any polishing. If people don’t like you or think you’re a dick that’s on them.“

Tobias doesn’t say anything.

”I’d wager you’re someone who likes to do things his way or the highway. You don’t play well with others because you like to be in control. It’s hard for you to give anyone even an ounce of your trust because you believe trust is earned. You said it yourself I don’t know much about you, so why should you trust me? So did I get any of that right?“

Tobias didn’t say anything. He didn’t even move a muscle.

”Your silence indicates I got something right.“

”Even if you did get it right, it doesn’t mean I need your help.“

”So what you’d let your image get destroyed and let others decide on the narrative rather than trying to fix it? That doesn’t sound like the Tobias I got to know.“

”I can’t control what people think.“

”Maybe not. But you can let them see that there’s more to you. Do you know what I see right now?“

”What?“

”Someone who’s been hurt in the past, and now you’re hurt again. But you’re trying so hard to bury those feelings that you’re drowning in them.“

”Sounds like a therapy session.“ He mumbled.

”Art is therapy. Did you know I basically got bullied out of the art gallery I worked at in Boston?“

He shook his head. By the look in his eyes I could tell I got his attention.

”I had no idea, but I’m sorry to hear that. Why did you get fired?“

”I quit. I’ve been struggling with anxiety for years. And they’ve seen me as someone they can demean and push around. My voice was snuffed out. I’ve always seen art as freedom, choosing to make art work for you. Art has helped me find an outlet, find my voice. Let me be creative and put paint on a canvas when I can’t name my own feelings.“

He rubbed his neck as if uncomfortable by my word vomit.

”I had no idea. And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a dick. I just…“

”You needed to vent so you let it out on me. I get it. We all lash out when we’re angry. Usually at the people we’re close to.“

”But you seem so calm and composed. You and Bryce never even fight. You’re so perfect.“

I threw my head back and let out a laugh. Making it echo from the walls.

I turned back to Tobias who was looking at me as if I grew another head.

”Do you really believe that? Of course Bryce and I fight. We have disagreements all the time. But we’ve learned how to handle them. Even if we don’t speak to each other for days, it doesn't mean we hate each other. But it means hey I need space I’ll talk when I’ve cooled off. We found our rhythm. We love and understand each other.“

He sighed and sat down, leaning on the wall that was just covered with paint, he winced when he realized it, but he didn’t sit down somewhere else.

”What a mess I’ve created, but maybe you’re right.“

”I must have a fever, or did you just say I’m right?“ I grinned and he smiled back.

”No you heard me correctly. You’re right. I’m scared to end up alone. So that’s why I pushed Chloe away. The woman from the video. We’ve gotten pretty close, and I don't know I panicked. I mean whoever took the video had no right to do that, but I guess people judged me and said how I’m sleeping with her because I’d like to get to the top. But that’s not true. I like the job I have. I have no desire to work in an office. I love working with patients. Hearing them tell me what’s wrong and finding a way to make things better for them.“

”Could it be that you’re scared you won’t measure up? Wanting to prove others wrong? You’d rather be the one who ends a relationship rather than the one who gets his heart broken?“

”Yes to all of the above.“ He nodded.

”Alright. That’s something we can work on.“ I said with renewed energy.

”How? We can’t just fix this mess in a matter of days.“

I smiled softly at him.

”No. But we can slowly build towards improving. You know there is a Hawaiian proverb my grandma always uses: A’ Ohe Pu’u Ki’eki’e Ke Ho’a’o ‘Ia e Pi’i.“

”Uhh…meaning?“ He asked.

”No cliff is so tall it cannot be climbed.“

”I kinda like that phrase.“ He said thoughtfully.

”Yeah it’s beautiful. You know what else? You’re not broken. It just means you haven’t figured out the right formula. I don’t want to turn you into someone you’re not. I just want you to realize that if you keep pushing people away who’d like to be in your life you’ll end up all alone. And that’s not what I want for you. You’re smart, funny and good-looking. Don’t let it go to waste.“

Tobias shook his head as grinned at me.

”You know? Now I understand why Bryce fell for you.“

I grinned at him.

”I told you so. There’s more to me than you might think.“

”I can see that. Also, please tell me I’m not the only one you boss around. At least tell me you do that to Bryce too.“

”Oh trust me I do.“ I laughed again because it felt as if we reached a good point. And I’m glad I could get him to open up.

I can see a big grin forming on Tobias face and I already knew there’s something snarky coming.

”Also I did get something right on the first try.“ He grinned.

”Let me guess how to do sex right.“ I sighed.

”No. It was actually how to pick friends. Maybe after we solve this mess I can try and restore some of my friendships.“

”You got this Carrick.“ I slapped his arm.

”Now you sound like Lahela.“

I winked at him.

”Now what?“ He asked after getting up.

”Now we slowly improve your image. With me by your side things can only get better.“ He laughed out loud and we continued to throw paint at the wall. We might’ve not solved everything, but we’re getting there.

[jerzwriter]

For Angstgiving

19. Did you ever love me at all? (Ethan)

24. You have to believe me (Tobias)

Hey there! The first one is done! I'll be working on the other this week. Thanks again for the requests!

Just Catching Up - Tobias x Casey Ashes - Ethan x Casey

Since you just said Ethan / Tobias without partners, I took the opportunity to write an Ethan x Casey fic. Remember, in my HC, she was with Ethan during intern year - but they did not reconcile after his Amazon bullshit, and she ended up with Tobias. And since angst was the goal -this was perfect!

[jamespotterthefirst]

My Best Friend's Wedding

I. RUMOR HAS IT

Book: Open Heart (AU)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey and MC (Dr. Lilac Allende)

Words: 850

Rating: T

Summary: A childhood friend realizes he's the love of her life. The problem is he's about to marry someone else.

Note: This is my re-write of one of my favorite rom coms ever: My Best Friend's Wedding. Part 1 of two is the Karaoke scene where Julia Roberts tries to sabotage Cameron Diaz and it backfires. This is for @choicesprompts and their Rewrite Challenge! Thank you @jerzwriter for encouraging me to participate!

The crowded bar felt stifling as legions of medical staff packed tightly into its confines. No one seemed to mind, however, since everywhere Morgan looked she was greeted by drunk, laughing faces. All except for one, of course. 

Ethan Ramsey would not be his curmudgeon self if he didn't look like a man about to be waterboarded. His eyes met hers for a fleeting moment, the vivid blue imploring someone—anyone—to put him out of his misery. She stifled laughter, the familiarity of that characteristic disdain of his bringing her the smallest bit of comfort. 

“How much longer do we have to endure this?” he asked as a drunk intern belted a sloppy but admittedly hilarious rendition of I Say a Little Prayer. 

She rolled her eyes, ready to admonish him for being such a spoilsport— just like old times. Someone else beat her to it. 

From beside him, the beautiful brunette laughed—the sound just as perfect as everything else about her. She leaned in close to him, the light catching on a stunning, vintage engagement ring as her hand fell atop his. 

“You're so dramatic, babe,” his fiancée taunted with a smile that exuded pure sunshine. Green eyes fell on Morgan, slightly apologetic. “You'll have to forgive him. He hates upbeat music, fun, and references to organized religion.”

And she was funny, too. Morgan internally had to give her that too. 

Ethan agreed because he indulged Lilac (of course her name had to be beautiful as well) with a lopsided smile that made him appear even more handsome. That shocked Morgan into silence for a moment. In all her time knowing Ethan Ramsey, she could count his genuine smiles on one hand. Then again, the crushing realization fell over her like a torrent. Perhaps she didn't know Ethan anymore. The Ethan she had known never believed in love or marriage, after all. 

Their playful banter escalated and tapered into a modest but sweet kiss. When they pulled apart, Lilac burst at the seams with giddy joy—the type Morgan was a stranger to. It made her stomach churn. 

“Alright,” someone said from the stage. “Who's drunk enough to go next?” 

Drunken cheers and shouts erupted from the bar, each group nominating someone. 

“You should go,” Lilac teased Ethan. 

“God, no.”

She laughed, expecting that exact reaction. Her ring-clad hold tightened on Ethan's arm and something in Morgan came to a boiling point. 

“I have someone better in mind,” she told the couple. Without another word, she marched to the stage and took the microphone from the MC. The crowd whistled and cheered. “Alright everyone, tonight we have a special treat for you. Give it up for the dazzling vocal styling of Doctor Lilac Allende!” 

The cheers in the tiny bar were almost deafening. The pretty brunette was stunned for a moment, glancing at Ethan for reassurance. Expression tight, he shook his head, no doubt advising her not to go if she didn't want to. The crowd, however, was having none of it. A fellow doctor at their hospital all but carried Lilac onto the stage. 

“Rumour Has It by Adele,” Morgan informed the DJ. Then, she pushed the microphone into Lilac's hands as the beat started. Color flushed her freckled face and she looked as though she still hadn't fully recovered from the surprise. 

“Ooh-ooh,” Lilac started into the microphone. “She, she ain't real…”

Morgan returned to her seat, ignoring the glare Ethan threw her way. 

“She ain't gon' be able to love you like I will,” Lilac continued. The more words she sang, the more evident it became that the poor girl could not sing to save her life. Morgan felt a tiny pang of satisfaction at the discovery that the brunette wasn't so perfect after all. 

“Wow,” Morgan laughed. 

Ethan didn't react. 

“Maybe putting her up there wasn't such a good idea. But then again, it's Adele. No one is going to sing that well.”

Blue eyes assessed her like x-rays. 

“Isn't that the point of this circus? To sing badly?” his voice was deathly calm but she could tell there was something more brewing underneath the surface.

At that very moment, the bar erupted into loud cheers and applause as Lilac added a little dance mid-song. She laughed into the microphone, barely able to get the words out. When her eyes fell on Ethan, she winked at him, her spine straightening with confidence. 

“Just 'cause I said it, don't mean that I meant it,” she sang, adding with confidence— “I DID!” 

“But rumor has it, he's the one I'm leaving you for.”

The encouragement from the bar patrons could probably be heard from the hospital across the street. Lilac hopped off stage, still singing, even making her voice playfully seductive. She sauntered to where Ethan sat, trailing one finger along his shoulder as she sang. The man was perfectly still but he tracked her every movement, blue eyes glittering with something heavy and meaningful. The way he looked at her made Morgan feel like an intruder.

The pang in her chest was unbearable.

And with that, Lilac plopped onto his lap, pressing a kiss to his lips as the applause echoed around them. There was no one in the world but them. The way he held her, there was no one in his world but Lilac. 

Morgan looked away.

Notes: I was so in love with Dermot Mulroney in this

Hope you liked it!

The next part is "Speak Now" and should be up soon ❤️

And yes, I am still writing the masquerade mini series lol. I just got swept up in this idea. The heart wants what it wa-a-a-a-ants lol

[tessa-liam]

The One Who Got Away 

Thank you @kyra75 for your ask --  Prompt #4, ‘This is all my fault’ for @choicesprompts – Angstgiving Event 

Choices Book: The Royal Romance, Book 2 

Pairing: Liam Rys x Riley Brooks (F!MC) 

Rating: mature 

Category: angst/fluff, one-shot, ask/prompt 

Words 3.5k, with sprinkles of Canon 

A/N1: not Beta’d, please excuse all errors 

Premise: Liam and Riley are in love, but due to circumstances, they are pulled apart. Riley leaves Cordonia to go back home to New York, heartbroken. Liam marries Madeleine, reluctantly, to fulfill his duty as King. A year later, while visiting New York, Liam runs into Riley.... 

ONE YEAR AGO ...

New York. The place where dreams come true. The Statue of Liberty. The Empire State Building. Central Park. 

As the limousine pulled up in front of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, a sea of reporters and cameras flooded the sidewalk, all desperate to catch a glimpse of the young King of Cordonia. 

He'd arrived in New York earlier that day to spend the next two weeks on a goodwill tour, courtesy of his PR team. He'd already spent several days in Washington, DC, before stopping by a few other major US cities. New York City was the grand finale. 

King Liam stepped out of the limousine, his personal security flanking him, and walked into the throng of reporters. He was met with a barrage of flashing cameras, blinding him. His bodyguards tried their best to hold the crowd back. 

"Your Majesty! Over here! Look over here, please!" 

Liam put on his most dazzling smile and waved, walking towards the doors, surrounded by the press. 

"What are you hoping to accomplish during your stay in New York?" 

"Who will be accompanying you?" 

"Do you have a message for the people of Cordonia?" 

"King Liam! What is the state of the relationship between your country and the US?" 

"Will you be making any important announcements soon?" 

Liam smiled politely at the reporters, but refused to comment on their questions. He reached the top of the steps leading into the museum, and stopped for a moment, taking in the view. It was a gorgeous, but chilly,  November day in New York. The trees had long since lost their leaves and were now a dark brown, contrasting with the gray skies above. The weather had forced most New Yorkers to stay indoors. 

Liam glanced at his watch. It was 10:45 am. 

"Your Majesty? The exhibit is waiting for you." One of the museum staff motioned him inside. 

Liam walked through the massive, imposing entrance doors and made his way through the crowd of museum visitors, down the marble-floored hallway, towards the room where the exhibit was waiting for him. 

The museum staff, dressed in black-and-white, were all huddled near the door, whispering excitedly amongst themselves. 

"This is going to be a huge draw for our museum." 

"I can't believe they let us borrow these artifacts." 

"We're lucky the King agreed to open the exhibit." 

Liam cleared his throat and the museum staff immediately stood at attention. 

"Welcome, Your Majesty. We're honored you're here," the museum director bowed in respect.

"Thank you, but there's no need for all the formality," Liam smiled warmly. "Please, please call me Liam." 

The museum staff beamed as the director held out his arm to escort Liam into the gallery.

"If you'll please follow me, Your Ma—, uh, Liam. We've prepared the exhibit for your inspection. Please take as much time as you'd like." 

Liam followed into the spacious, exhibition room, his personal security standing outside. The staff were bustling around, checking the artifacts and displays. Liam took a few steps further into the room, and his breath hitched in his throat. 

At the end of the room, on a plinth, was a large display case, with a crown encased inside. It was a golden circlet, embellished with rubies, sapphires, and emeralds. 

The Queen's Crown of Cordonia. 

He recognized it immediately. It had belonged to his mother, Queen Eleanor, before she had died. She had never had a chance to wear it. 

Liam's hands were trembling, and his knees were weak. He slowly approached the crown, his eyes fixed on it. The last time he'd seen this crown was at his mother's funeral. After that, it had been kept locked away in the Royal Treasury. He'd thought it would stay there forever. 

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" came a familiar voice. 

Liam's head snapped up and his heart skipped a beat. 

There, standing in front of him, was the love of his life. 

Riley. 

He couldn't believe his eyes. What was she doing here? 

"Riley," Liam gasped, taking a few shaky steps towards her. 

They stood inches from each other, but neither could make a move. There were a million thoughts running through each of their minds, but they couldn't utter a single word. 

"You look stunning," Liam finally said, breaking the silence. 

Riley blushed. "I didn't realize you'd personally be here." 

"My PR team set up this visit."  Liam softly spoke.

"I'm glad they did." Riley nervously responded.

They both stood in silence, staring at each other. 

Liam took a step closer and reached for her hand. 

"I've missed you," he whispered. 

"Me too," Riley replied, squeezing his hand. 

They gazed into each other's eyes, their hearts filled with longing and desire; even after all the time apart.

"Liam, I..." Riley started to say. 

"What is it, Riley?" 

"Nothing. It's just...I'm happy to see you." 

"I'm happy to see you, too," Liam said. "And I'm sorry, about everything." 

"It wasn't your fault." Looking down, Riley shook her head.

"Yes, it was. I should've done more. I should've fought harder. This is all my fault" 

"No. Liam, don't blame yourself." 

"But I do." 

Moving their conversation to a secluded alcove, Riley placed her hands on his cheeks. "None of this was your fault. You did the right thing. And you're an amazing King. You're the best King Cordonia has ever had. You made the right decision." 

"But I lost you." 

"It was my choice, Liam. I chose to walk away. I chose to leave." 

"Why?" Liam searched Riley's eyes for an answer.

"Because I knew you would never choose me over your duty. And I would've never forgiven myself if I forced you to make that choice. That would've been too selfish of me. You were always going to make the right decision for your country. And that's what made me fall in love with you." 

"Riley, I—" 

"Wait, Liam, before you say anything... there's something I need to tell you. It's important." 

Liam frowned. "What is it?" 

Riley hesitated for a moment, then looked up into his eyes. Closing her eyes, her heart was pounding inside her chest. "I was pregnant." 

The color drained from Liam's face. He stared at her in shock. "What did you just say?"  Liam didn't trust his hearing.

"I was pregnant, with our baby. I found out right after the coronation." 

Liam couldn't believe what he was hearing, shaking his head, no. He was completely stunned. He couldn't speak. 

"I didn't know how to tell you," Riley continued. "So I didn't. I was afraid of what you'd say. Of how you'd react. I didn't want to ruin your life. So I kept it a secret." 

"Riley, why didn't you tell me?" Liam asked, his voice hoarse. 

"I don't know. I guess I was scared. Scared of what you'd think. Scared that you'd hate me. I'm sorry, Liam. I should've told you. But I didn't want to put you in a difficult position. I didn't want to force you to make a choice. That's why I left. I knew that if I told you, you'd try to figure something out, and I couldn't let that happen. Not when the future of your kingdom was at stake." 

Liam was speechless. His heart was pounding. 

"I didn't want to ruin your life," Riley said again, her voice breaking. "It was all my fault." 

"How could you say that? Riley?" Liam was heartbroken.

"What do you mean? It was my fault. I was the one who got pregnant. I was the one who kept it a secret. I was the one who left."  Riley covered her face with her shaking hands.

"No. Riley, it's not your fault. It was my mine. I should've protected you. I should've done more. But instead, I failed you. I'm so sorry, Riley." 

Riley shook her head. "No. Liam, don't. Please don't. It's not your fault." 

Liam wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "It's okay, Riley. It's okay. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you. Not ever." 

[present day] 

Liam's eyes slowly opened and he was greeted with the sight of his sleeping wife. He was lying on his side, facing her, his arm draped over her waist. She looked peaceful. Her hair was splayed across the pillow and her lips were slightly parted. 

Liam gently brushed a strand of hair from her face. She stirred a little, but didn't wake up. 

He smiled to himself. 

They were together. They had another baby on the way. He'd done the right thing. 

His kingdom would be safe. His people would be safe. His family would be safe.

Everything was going to be all right. 

And yet, he couldn't help but wonder what might have been. If he had known Riley was pregnant; when she had left after the coronation... would things have turned out differently? Would they have chosen a different path? Would he have married Riley instead of Madeleine? Scandal be damned.

Or would the same thing have happened? Would he have still made the same decision, to choose his kingdom over his heart? 

It was too late to find out. 

He couldn't go back. 

He didn't have to.

***

🌹Thank you for reading.

📌 @choicesficwriterscreations @choicescommunityevents @choicesprompts @choicesmonthlychallenge

📌 @bascmve01 @busywoman @kristinamae093 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @kingliam2019 @ao719 @alj4890 @emkay512 @karahalloway @twinkleallnight @malblk21 @tinkie1973 @queenmiarys @emersyn-in-cordonia @dutifullynuttywitch @charlotteg234 @lovingchoices14 @selina012 @kyra75 @imjusthereforliam @703cowbarn @irisk12 @imashybish @walkerdrakewalker @jared2612 @fadingreveries @mockingjay19 @queenwalton @thosehallowedhalls @umccall71 @rafasgirl23415 @mainstreetreader @shanzay44 @custaroonie @guineveresgarden @ownworldresident @amandablink @choicesfrog @mysticalfangirl @iluaaa @belencha77

[choicesprompts]

Flufftober 2024

Thanks so much to everyone who participated! This year's Flufftober event was a smashing success! Here is the compiled master list of all the amazing stories that were submitted!

Open Heart:

A Bit of a Flirt by @jerzwriter

Autumn's Embrace by @storyofmychoices

Sugar Bugs by @liaromancewriter

Diagnosis:Jealousy by @jerzwriter

A Change of Plans by @jerzwriter

Birthday Bash by @liaromancewriter

Motivation by @liaromancewriter

Corn Maze Adventure by @liaromancewriter

A Family Day by @jerzwriter

Hold My Drink by @liaromancewriter

Eden rook Mysteries: The Secret Admirer by @jerzwriter

The Proposition by @jerzwriter

Peter, Peter by @jerzwriter

Happy Birthday Bryce by @storyofmychoices

Trick or Treat by @liaromancewriter

Counter Proposal by @liaromancewriter

Blades of Light and Shadows:

Of Leaves and Laughter by @storyofmychoices

Bonds of Sea and Fire by @missameliep

The Royal Romance:

Chance of a Lifetime by @tessa-liam

Crush by @angelasscribbles

Desire and Decorum:

Second Chances by @missameliep

Art:

Mal x Daenarya by @wisejazz submitted by @storyofmychoices

Forever by @cashweasel Submitted by @theartoflovingthomashunt

When Love and Friendship Intertwine by @cashweasel submitted by @storyofmychoices

I Dream of Alex by @callmebeem submitted by @theartoflovingthomashunt

I Dream of Alex the Sequel

Operation with Dr.s Lahela by @robboyu submitted by @storyofmychoices

[angelasscribbles]

Isle of Misfits Chapter 11: The Final Cut

Fandom: Mostly TRR but a bit of others sprinkled in, as well as some OC's from the first few chapters.

Series: Isle of Misfits, Round Robin 2024, hosted by @choicesprompts

Word Count: 1,981

Drake turned his head to take in Liam standing in the doorway, but he didn’t release Bertrand’s collar. “Not now, Li. I need answers first!”

“I…that…” Bertrand fumbled with the remote control, rewinding then pausing on a close-up of him with the redhead wrapped in his arms. “Look!”

Drake glared at the TV screen for a moment, and then the frown lines on his face eased. He released Bertrand and took a step back. “Oh, that’s not Liv.” Even from behind, he could tell it wasn’t her. He knew every line and curve of her body. If he had paused it sooner, he would have realized his mistake.

“Wait.” Olivia pointed to the date in the upper corner of the screen. “It couldn’t have been me. That was the night I was at that ribbon-cutting ceremony with Raleigh.”

Raleigh Carrera had gotten his shit together in record time. A thorough cleansing of alcohol from his room and a handful of public appearances had put him back on top of his career. He was off on a world tour with firm dinner plans with Olivia and Drake the next time he was in the country.  

Drake whirled on the elder Beaumont. “Are you cheating on my sister?”

“No…ah…” Bertrand turned ten shades of red as he stammered and stuttered. “She…that is…. I mean…”

“What is it, man? Spit it out already!”

Bertrand wanted to fall through the floor, but he managed to grit out, “The redhead is Savannah! She…. ah…”

Drake looked like he wanted to commit murder. “Did you make my sister dress up like that?”

“What? Heavens no! It was her idea!”

“Her idea?”

“Yes! This time, she wanted to be a redhead. Last month it was blond…she…ah…sometimes she likes to…um…. role play and…. well…”

All the blood drained from Drake’s face. “Shut up! That’s enough! No one needs to hear anything else!”

Olivia’s delighted laughter cut through the air. “I didn’t know little Savs had it in her. Good for her! Get it, girl!”

Drake shook his head. “Liv, no.”

Bertrand’s face had gone purple as he fought the ignominy. Clearing his throat, he changed the subject. “I think we should address Madeleine’s poor judgment.”

Madeleine gaped at him. “My poor judgment? How about asking why there are reporters on a private island? What about that?”

Bertrand gave his lapels a sharp tug as he regained his composure. “Oh, there will be a thorough investigation into that! Which still doesn’t answer the question as to why you would take one of our clients out in public outside of a prearranged appearance when our policy clearly states—”

“Pfft!” Madeleine flicked her fingers at him. “I didn’t read your employee handbook as I am not your employee! I am here at the behest of the king!”

“Yes, well, about that.” Bertrand straightened his shoulders as he turned to face Liam. “I allowed her to come here to help as a courtesy to you, Your Majesty. However, I’m afraid that I must inform you that the countesses’ services are no longer needed.”

“Of course,” Liam inclined his head slightly. “The Leviathan Group is your business. I’m sorry if I overstepped. I simply wanted to help my brother—”

“Which you did, by sending him here, to me. No other client has been allowed to have friends or family visit during their time with us. Please, Liam. Let me do my job.”

The king looked like he wanted to argue for a moment and then his shoulders slumped. “Yes, of course. I am sorry. I should also apologize for agreeing to help Trystan and then not being able to follow through.”

“It is of no consequence.” Bertrand waved him off. “Liv was able to step in. You have an entire country to run. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Seriously?” Madeleine fumed. “You know what? That’s fine. Get someone else to help Mr. never met a responsibility he couldn’t ignore or run away from. I’ll be on the next boat back to the mainland.” She spun on her heel and was gone.

“Thank god!” Leo commanded everyone’s attention as he slapped the newspaper again. “But what are we going to do about this?”

“Don’t worry, I’m going to take you under my wing personally,” Bertrand assured him. “And since your wife is here, we’re going to enlist her help.”

Bertrand didn’t say it out loud, but he was fairly certain Katie was the security leak. Reporters had most likely followed her to the island. Though Liam was also a possibility. This was why friends and family weren’t supposed to visit.

Leo rubbed his eyes. “I’m not sure she’s even speaking to me right now.”

“Well, have you tried explaining to her why you were in that bush throwing up outside a Beverly Hills mansion at three a.m. while she was at home with two infants?”

“How the hell was I supposed to know there’d be a reporter there?”

“But why were you there in the first place? With that woman?”

Leo shook his head vehemently from side to side. “That woman just helped me back into the house because I was too drunk to stand on my own!”

“I believe you.” Bertrand clasped a hand on his shoulder. “But you still need to answer why you were there in the first place. For your wife and yourself, honestly. Katie shouldn’t be here, but since she is, I’ve arranged some couples’ counseling for you, and I don’t want to hear any arguments about it.”

Leo opened his mouth, then shut it again. He nodded. Couples’ counseling sounded good. He didn’t want to lose the family he was in the process of building. They meant too much to him.

“Okay, good!” Bertrand squeezed his shoulder tighter, then released it and slapped him on the back. “Why don’t you go talk to her right now?”

Leo nodded again. “Thanks.” He stopped in front of Liam on his way out. “I’m sorry I was such an ass about coming here. You might have saved my marriage, so…thank you for that.”

“I love you, man,” Liam told him as he pulled him into a hug.

“I love you too, little bro.”

After Leo had left the room, Liam shifted from foot to foot awkwardly before blurting out, “So, what’s this about Riley and Max?”

Drake’s jaw clenched. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Li, but I saw them together this morning. Max was coming out of her room this morning. Early this morning!”

Liam stared at him in wide-eyed panic as his mind whirled with ways to mitigate this breach of decorum. He knew he could tell Drake anything, but his eyes flicked to Bertrand and Olivia as he scrambled for a cover story. “Ah… he was there to deliver an update about Leo. I was in an early meeting, so I asked him to deliver it to Lady Riley instead.”

Liam held his breath as he waited to see if they bought the story.

Drake’s eyes narrowed. It had been really early. But if Liam didn’t want everyone in the room to know his business, then Drake would respect that, so he simply replied with, “Okay. That makes sense.”

Liam’s body sagged with relief. He wasn’t ready for the world to know about him and Max or Max and Riley, much less him, Max and Riley as a throuple. “I appreciate you looking out for me, Drake. But next time please come to me with any concerns instead of blurting them out in front of others. It’s how rumors get started and I can ill afford those at the very start of my reign.”

Drake gave him a curt nod. “Of course. Sorry.”

Liam waved dismissively in his direction. “Your heart was in the right place. We’ll talk later.” He turned from Drake to Bertrand. “I’m going to say goodbye to my brother and then I promise not to come back unless you invite me. I should have trusted you from the beginning and stayed out of it.”

“I appreciate the trust you’re placing in me, Your Majesty.”

Drake watched Liam leave, then turned to Olivia. “Are you ready? I thought we could grab some—”

The redhead sauntered closer to her boyfriend and ran a hand down his chest, “I would love to do whatever the end of that sentence is but first….” She glanced back at her business partner. “I need to talk to Bert about something real quick. You go on. I’ll meet you in my room in ten.”

He gave her a salacious grin as he pulled her in for a kiss. She started to melt into him before remembering they weren’t alone. Mostly because Bertrand cleared his throat to remind them. She pushed him away with a teasing grin. “Go on. I’ll be along soon enough.”

When Drake was out of the room, she turned to Bertrand with a steely glare. “Would you like to tell me why the west wing has been closed off since our first night here?”

Bertrand’s body jerked. His eyes widened. “Oh… ah… we just aren’t using—”

“Cut the shit, Bert!” Olivia crossed the room to stand defiantly in front of him. “When I can’t sleep, I walk. I saw the ambulance that night. There were no lights, no sirens but I know what I saw.”

Bertrand let out a long sigh as his shoulders slumped. “It will be a relief to tell someone. One of our guests, an aging actor looking to make a comeback, was… done away with that night.”

Olivia blinked. “You mean murdered?”

Bertrand nodded. He had told Max it was a bad dream…. and it had been. But it had also happened.

“And you swept it under the rug because a murder the first night of your new business venture would be bad publicity?”

He nodded again.

“Any clues who it was?”

“Well, the young lady that found the body disappeared later that night.” It had been a miracle that no one other than him had heard her scream. Mostly because he had been the only guest in that wing, having insisted on complete privacy.

“Do we know who she was?”

“She was Natalia Karanova, here under the pretense of being the personal assistant to another guest, Krista Rodriguez. But upon further investigation, it turns out she is also the granddaughter of an actress murdered on the set of the 1980 movie The Deepest Cut.”

Olivia tilted her head to one side in contemplation. “Was she even alive in 1980?”

Bertrand shook his head. “No. But her mother was and by all accounts, she was never right again after losing her mother at such a young age. She struggled with lifelong depression and eventually took her own life. She named our esteemed guest in her suicide note.”

Olivia sucked in a breath. “That would be motive.”

“Indeed.”

“So did you tell the police?”

“No.”

“No?”

He shook his head again.

“Why not?”

“Because I read the news article about what happened to that young, aspiring actress. She didn’t deserve what happened to her, but perhaps her murderer did. The evidence was clear, but fame and money made it all just go away.”

“Wow, Bert. I didn’t know you had it in you!” She gave him an approving smile. “Good for you!”

“So, you won’t tell anyone?”

“My lips are sealed.”

******

Three weeks later, Leo discovered in therapy that he had been self-sabotaging his whole life because of deep-seated insecurities stemming from a childhood of neglect, abandonment, and mental abuse at the hands of his father.  

He cooperated with the rest of the program, repaired his public image, and, more importantly, his relationship with his wife.

He returned home to California with her and their two children and they all lived happily ever after.

The End.

[gmsrrn98]

Regret: Rewrite

This is for Angstgiving 2024. This is a rewrite of a part my old fanfic series: Regret.

Tag: @choicesprompts

Book: The Sophomore

Prompt: Watching the ex you still love fall for someone else.

Premise: Kaitlyn helplessly watches Emily fall for Becca and she grapples with the regret and heartache that came from her past decisions and mistakes.

Kaitlyn's POV

I thought being in The Gutter Kittens would help me figure out who I was. I thought it would make me feel alive, give me something to hold on to when everything else felt like it was slipping through my fingers. But all it did was turn me into someone I didn’t recognize, someone I couldn’t stand. And in chasing something I thought I wanted, I lost the one thing I needed most: Emily.

I can still see her in my mind, standing in the crowd that night. She was so out of place in that packed, chaotic venue, but she was there anyway, for me. Her smile shone brighter than the stage lights, and for a fleeting moment, I let myself believe that maybe I deserved her. Then the fight broke out. I can still hear the shouting, see the panic in her eyes as she stood frozen in the middle of the chaos. I should’ve gone to her, should’ve stopped everything to make sure she was okay. But I didn’t. I was too worried about the band’s reputation, about Natasha’s approval, to think about the person who mattered most.

Instead, I blamed her. I lashed out, accusing her of bringing drama into my world when it was me who had let her down. A few days later, she ended it. I didn’t even try to stop her. How could I? She deserved someone who would fight for her, someone who wouldn’t make her feel like an afterthought.

It didn’t take long for Becca to step in. Becca, of all people—the one person I never thought Emily would turn to. I told myself it was a rebound, that Emily was just trying to fill the void I left behind. But then I started to notice the way she looked at Becca, the way her eyes lit up when Becca made her laugh. It wasn’t a rebound. She was falling for her.

I tried not to see it, but it was impossible to avoid. Living with them has been its own private hell. Every morning, I see Becca leaning against the kitchen counter, making Emily’s coffee exactly the way she likes it, while Emily stands next to her, smiling at something Becca said. I hear their laughter echoing down the hall late at night, and I know they’re sharing the kind of moments Emily and I used to have. Moments I thought were ours alone.

It’s the little things that hurt the most. Like the way Emily tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s nervous—she used to do that with me, but now it’s Becca who gets to reach out and steady her hand. Or the way Emily’s eyes soften when Becca teases her, the way her laughter spills out, genuine and unrestrained. She’s happy in a way she wasn’t with me, and it kills me because I know I’m the reason she wasn’t.

Tonight was the worst. I came home early, guitar slung over my shoulder, ready to drown myself in music and pretend for a little while that I wasn’t falling apart. But as I walked into the living room, there she was. Emily. She was standing by the door, dressed in a white dress with delicate blue flowers, her hair falling in soft waves around her face. I’d seen that dress in her closet before, back when we were together, but she’d never worn it for me.

For a split second, I let myself imagine she had dressed up for me, that maybe we could have one of those quiet, perfect nights we used to share. Then Becca stepped into view, and reality hit me like a punch to the gut. Emily wasn’t wearing that dress for me. She wasn’t smiling for me. She was going out with Becca.

They were holding hands. That simple gesture, so small and casual, felt like a dagger to my chest. Becca leaned in, whispering something in Emily’s ear that made her laugh, and the sound was so familiar, so heartbreakingly familiar, that I had to look away. I mumbled something—I don’t even know what—and headed for the stairs, my legs feeling like they might give out beneath me.

As I climbed the steps, I heard Becca’s voice, low and teasing. “You look amazing tonight, by the way. But you already know that, don’t you?” And then Emily’s soft, bashful laugh. The laugh she used to save for me.

The door to my room felt heavier than usual as I shut it behind me, sealing myself away from the sound of their happiness. But it wasn’t enough. The muffled echo of their voices drifted up the stairs, and I could picture them so clearly—Emily brushing a strand of hair from her face as Becca opened the car door for her, Becca’s hand resting on the small of Emily’s back as they walked to the car.

I threw my guitar onto the bed and sank to the floor, burying my face in my hands. My chest felt like it was caving in, the weight of regret pressing down on me until it was hard to breathe. I let her go. I pushed her away, and now she’s found someone who makes her feel loved in all the ways I couldn’t.

The sound of Becca’s car starting and pulling out of the driveway finally broke the silence, and I thought maybe, just maybe, it would bring some relief. But it didn’t. The quiet that followed was worse because it left me alone with my thoughts, my memories, and the image of Emily smiling at someone else.

I hate myself for ruining what we had. I hate Becca for being everything I wasn’t. But most of all, I hate that no matter how much it hurts, no matter how much I wish things were different, I’ll never stop loving her. And she’ll never be mine again.

[missameliep]

Second Chances - Chapter Twenty Five: It starts with a kiss

Book: Desire and Decorum – Modern AU 

Pairings: Prince Hamid x Elizabeth (OC); Briar Daly x Edmund Marlcaster

Characters: Elizabeth Foredale (OC); Prince Hamid; Briar Daly; Edmund Marlcaster.

Rating: M (see trigger warnings in the notes bellow)

Word count: ~8k

Summary: After the drinking games at Edgewater, before sunrise, someone will reveal their feelings; and fortunately those suffering with a hungover, won't need to deal with it alone.

A/N: 

All characters belong to Pixelberry, except OC. Turkish words are translated in the notes in the end.

Trigger warnings: mentions of past drinking and drug consumption. Reader discretion advised.

This is my submission to @choicesprompts ' Flufftober 2024 Choices - prompts 1 (First Kiss)

September, 2018 – London – Friday night – six weeks before the weekend at Edgewater 

Slumped onto one of the large armchairs settled in the middle of the game room, Edmund used one controller to adjust the lights, a softer blueish hue surrounded them, and the other to select an option, starting the gameplay and its characteristic music blasted. 

Elizabeth sighed and asked, “Are you sure you’re not going? It’ll be fun.” 

“I avoided Theresa’s boring soirée at the Holloways and am finally free to enjoy a quiet night leading an assassin through Ancient Egypt, so unless a raging fire erupts, I’m not leaving this house.” 

“It's Friday night, Ed! I can’t believe you’d rather play video games instead of going out with us… Didn’t you say you and Annabelle were friends?” 

“I’ve said she was Harry’s friend, and we share a few common interests, but pubs crawl or whatever you folks will be doing is not one of them. Could you please move a bit to the left? You’re blocking the screen...” 

Crossing her arms, she huffed and stepped aside.  

“You complained you’re a twenty-four-year-old that lives a seventy-year-old man’s life and yet I’m inviting you to a night out with fun people and you’d rather stay home…” she shook her head slowly at him. 

“Not tonight, Eliza! Maybe next week I can go out and pretend to be young. But give me a few days’ notice to prepare myself...” 

A light tap on the doorframe and Elizabeth’s face darted to the brunette standing with a wide smile framed by flamming red lips.  

“Lizzy, I hope I’m not interrupting… but Annabelle and Luke texted they’re already there.” 

“I was just saying goodbye to my stepbrother. I don’t think you’ve met, have you?” 

The man sighed, before pausing the game. His gaze slowly moved from the screen and when he turned around to face the friend by the door his jaw almost dropped to the floor. The sight of the woman in black skinny trousers and a burgundy blouse waving at him with the most beautiful smile he has ever seen stole his breath away. 

“Hi, Edmund!”  

“Hi. Hello. You... Ah... Hi,” he mumbled, unable to control the increasing racing of his heart. Is this what a heart attack feels like? he wondered, while brushing his clammy hands against his trousers. 

Conscious of the impact she caused, Briar huffed a quiet laugh and shifted to address her friend. 

“Nice to meet you, Edmund,” she said while shaking his hand. “I hope we meet again.” 

“I am going with you!” he blurted out. 

“You are?” Elizabeth’s head whipped in his direction, and she stared in disbelief as he turned off the game and put the controller down at the coffee table. 

“I just need to go to my room,” he said rising from the armchair and brushing past them, “Five minutes. I’ll meet you by the door.” 

Briar’s eyes followed the man almost running down the hallway, and she giggled. 

“Does it run in the family?” 

With a puzzled look, Elizabeth’s eyes darted to the same direction Briar was staring and she caught a glimpse of Edmund sprinting down the hall, “What does?”  

“Being cute and a dork?”  

October 28th, 2018 – Edgewater – Sometime after the drinking game 

It’s hard to tell when Edmund realized it was not the best idea for an engaged man to go knock on the door of a woman who is not his fiancée. It's even worse to do so in the middle of the night while slightly drunk.

He should’ve taken a cold shower to get rid of the idea that wormed its way into his mind, overshadowing every other thought concocted by his brain.

But he didn’t.

Anyways, he hates cold showers.

Staggering out of his room didn’t clear his mind or brought the realization of how bad that idea was. Crossing the few meters that separated his room from Briar’s door didn’t do it for him either. Not even when he tapped lightly with his knuckles, praying she was already sleeping and wouldn’t hear it - however, even then, his heart was clutching at the hope she would. So that was not that enlightenment moment either.

When the door slightly cracked open to allow visual confirmation of the night visitor, Edmund took a deep steadying breath, but it did little to stop his hands from shaking.

A moment later, Briar leaned against the doorframe smiling at him with such warmth that it was impossible not to think she cherished him. Maybe the only woman who ever did. And that was the moment he realised it was either the most brilliant move or his worst idea ever. Still, he once more was torn between the options. 

Playing with a long lock of her hair, her gaze lingered on his face, and she asked with a smile, “Trouble sleeping?” 

“I need to talk. To get this out of my chest. Can I come in?” 

Masking her surprise with another smile, she nodded and moved to the side, no questions asked. 

That was their thing, wasn’t it? Heart to heart conversations in the middle of the night... Only this time, he would also see her face while talking... and maybe he would find the answers he wishes. 

The man zigzagged until his knee bumped in the bed, and he slumped on the mattress. Giggling, she closed the door.

“You’re sloshed, Eddie!” her giggles fanned his face when she sat on the bed beside him and helped him sit up.   

“I’m certainly not. How dare you imply – No, I’m utterly sloshed. I can’t even pretend I’m not.” He let out a heartfelt laughter, and she used a hand to cover his mouth and shush him.  

His clear blue eyes crinkled with a smile. The gentle touch of her hand and the proximity of their bodies made his heart race. It was a shame this blurriness prevented him from seeing her eyes more clearly and the natural form of her lips without any lipstick. But he could tell he loved them nonetheless.

“Quiet or you’ll wake everyone up,” she hissed, but there was no edge on her voice, while her hand slowly retreated. “What do you want to talk about?” 

“You’re beautiful,” he sighed, and a tentative hand reached out to rest on Briar’s cheek, who didn’t flinch. “The most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Even more, when I’m sober, because I can really see you... You’re a bit blurred now... and I can’t see your eyes... and I adore your eyes… they are so… so… intense… and warm... and kind... But my mind already knows you’re beautiful. Inside too. Not your insides... insides... like your guts... but your mind and your heart –” He stopped talking when she failed to stifle her giggles.  

“You’re laughing at me!” he mumbled, and pulled his hand away. 

Trying to stifle her giggles, she tried to remedy the situation, placing her hand on his bouncing knee when his uneasiness drove him to the edge of the mattress. She wasn’t certain if she wanted him to stay, but she didn’t want him to leave yet.

“Was that the urgent matter you needed to ‘get out of your chest’?” she questioned with a soft voice, matching the proximity shared. His attention immediately returned to her, and a timid smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. 

“No, but your beauty is too distracting…” There was a lilt of laughter in his tone, and his fingers combed his ash blonde hair back and rested at the nape of his neck.  

“I won’t apologise for that,” she huffed a laugh, and her cheeks were noticeable darker from blushing because of his words, and this alone almost sobered him up.  

Edmund leaned forward, closing the gap between them, and his breath carried the scent of mint flavoured toothpaste mixed with a hint of liquor – more than a hint, actually.  

She suspected the liquor fuelled this unexpected audacity, considering how shy and restrained he was during their ride this afternoon; however, if asked, he would say this was all about her, her presence was intoxicating, and his self-control reached its limit tonight. 

Her breath hitched when his hand touched her cheek this time. Closing her eyes, she revelled on the feather light touch of his thumb caressing her velvety skin, following a path towards her mouth. When he traced the curves of her lips, it quietened everything else but her thunderous heartbeats. 

Her tongue was emptied, no flirty or funny words ready to fly away... In fact, every brain cell was screaming for her to shut up and kiss him; and his were probably doing the same, considering the way his hooded eyes fixed on her mouth when he leaned even closer. Without any warning, he bowed until his lips were a hair’s breadth away from hers. Their gazes locked for a second that lasted an eternity, a silent dialogue between their yearnings.  

The pull of her luscious lips became so irresistible.  

Waiting for permission, his lips ghosted hers and they were so close he could almost taste her exhales. 

Briar said nothing, licked her lips and closed the gap.

At first, his lips touched hers delicately, then more insistently when his hand slid to the back of her neck and brought their faces closer. It was awkward for a few seconds, too much tension, noses bumping and eyes wide open staring at the other; until her hands cradled his cheeks and gently tilted his head to adjust his position.  

This was enough to make it more and more enjoyable. Her lips glided over his, and when she captured his lower lip between hers, he let out a barely audible gasp. And she made a mental note about his reaction.  

More confident, one of his hands caressed her knee while the fingers on the one nestled on the nape of her neck delved into her hair, eliciting goosebumps and she let out a sigh.

The moment he parted his lips, allowing their tongues to meet for the first time, it felt as if the sole purposes of their lips and tongues were to kiss one another.  

When she pulled away to try and catch her breath, his lips followed hers, and she smiled to herself satisfied, both hands cradling his face.  

Meanwhile, Edmund’s entire body tingled, and there was a pleasant warmth enveloping him, as if being swaddled by a duvet someone else warmed just for you.

Looking at her, his brain buzzed with a swarm of thoughts. Did he drink too much or was there really something different about kissing Briar? A spark. An energy. A connection. 

“Did you feel it too? Tell me I’m not bloody crazy…” he asked, leaning his forehead to touch hers. 

“I’m not a psychiatrist, Eddie… but I think you lost your mind. I definitely did, too.” 

With a huff, his head tilted back, and before another loud laughter escaped his mouth, she covered it with her hand. This time, he grabbed it and kissed her palm gently, and her eyes fluttered close. 

“We’re both too sloshed for this...” 

“I can’t… I can’t think of anything else. Only you, Briar.” 

Hearing those words was bittersweet. It was exactly what she hoped for, but not like this. Not a drunk confession. And especially not after spending time with Theresa and knowing she’s oblivious to their flirting and growing affection. And now they’re kissing while she sleeps! 

“You shouldn’t say things like that...” she chided, “Your fiancée is asleep somewhere... over there...” Her free hand pointed randomly at the wall beside them, and he grimaced.  

“This has nothing to do with her… let’s pretend for a moment I’m not engaged.”  

Frowning, she pulled her hand from his grasp.  

“What a nasty thing to say!”  

“Briar,” Edmund called her name, his voice softer and more slurred, but she didn’t look back at him and pushed his chest. “I told you, Theresa and I… that is not real… she doesn’t love me either… she loves… loved… somebody else… not me… but you and I… I –”  

“Is she aware of how you feel? Because the engagement seems pretty real to her! She showed me pictures of bloody wedding dresses!” 

Edmund’s hand rubbed his face, and he exhaled loudly.  

“If you’re here for a one nightstand, just... own it! Don’t sweet talk me...” 

“Briar, I think – not think, I know… I fell for you.” 

Slack jawed, she gaped, and it took her a few breaths to find the words again. “Eddie… You shouldn’t say that either. You do have a fiancée and you’re sloshed… I know you’ll regret everything tomorrow... and leave me heartbroken.” 

“Never. You got me head over heels… I’m yours.” 

Briar’s face tilted upwards, and she stared at the ceiling for a long moment and let out a loud frustrated exhale. If cupid was a real thing, she would murder hers slowly and painfully. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” she muttered under her breath. 

“Is it Woods?” 

“Arthur?” Her head whipped to look at him. “What does Arthur have to do with this mess?” 

“Do you love him?” 

“I-” she paused and pressed her lips together. “I could... eventually... but not when... because of this..." Her finger pointed back and forward at them. 

There was too much satisfaction in hearing those words, and he let out a relieved sigh. 

“You feel it too?” he asked, and his voice was barely above a whisper. 

“What if I do? Does it change anything?” 

Edmund tentatively touched her face and guided her eyes to look back at him. “It changes all!”

“How?” she asked, but immediately changed her mind and waved her hands. “Please, don’t tell me... or... I’ll believe you.” 

“Believe me.” 

He pulled her in for another kiss, and all the fight left her when his tongue swirled with hers. He was already leaning to push her down on the mattress, but she pushed him back.

“No more kissing.” Out of breath, Briar placed a hand on his chest to put some distance between them and held her head high. “Talk. Tell me what you’ll do. I won’t be anyone's playtoy.”

Edmund obediently complied. It felt invigorating to make plans for his own future without consulting with his mother first, and especially plans that included Briar. They talked some more and kissed one last time before sleep claimed their eyes sometime before dawn.

Briar's face was the last thing he saw before his eyes fluttered close, and he thought that was heavenly.

A persistent buzzing noise invaded Elizabeth’s dreamless sleep, almost like the sounds of cicadas in scorching summer nights demanding the world’s attention to their performance. Answering the compelling call, her eyes fluttered open, but it was the same as if they didn’t. Surrounded by darkness, the coldness kissing her feet that escaped from underneath the duvet reminded her it wasn’t summer. She immediately pulled it, rubbing the cold feet against the mattress.  

While her body reluctantly woke up and her brain regained consciousness, she was confronted by confusion and immense discomfort all at once, reminders of the insane amount of alcohol she ingested last night.  

Her head ached as if samba percussionists were beating repeatedly their instruments out of cadence to punish her. The parchedness in her mouth seemed like she had wandered the desert for days. Trying to alleviate it, her lips parted, but her mouth had dried out and it was difficult to swallow and get rid of the disgusting taste sitting on her tongue.  

The buzzing sound echoed again, attacking her ears, and she realized it was probably the mobile vibrating with incoming messages over the nightstand. Even though she wondered what time it was, the identity of the caller or texter and their reasons to be trying to reach her in what she assumed was the middle of the night didn’t pique her interest at all, if anything it riled her up for disturbing her rest. Mustering the strength to reach the nightstand to turn off the phone, she tried to roll over, but something blocked her path and restrained her motion. Not something, but someone. 

In the dark she couldn’t rely on her sight, but her other senses worked perfectly, collecting information of quiet sounds of breathing behind her, the light pressure of a body against her back, and the arm she finally noticed dangling over her waist underneath the covers. And lastly, the fragrance that reached her nostrils was unmistakable. 

“Hamid?” her voice sounded hoarse in the quiet room, almost unrecognisable.  

The body stirred, and he hummed his response. His warm breath fanned her neck, and if she wasn’t so overwhelmed, she would have enjoyed it. 

Why are you in my bed, dude? The question died in her tongue, but not the surprise stirred by his presence. 

“Do you need to go to the toilette again?” his sleepy voice reached her ears.  

Again? When did I even go to the toilet?  

Her mind raced, trying to cling to any memory that could explain Hamid sleeping on her bed. But she found none. Maybe she should take the hint, get up, go to the toilet, wash her face, and drink some water. And definitely get some aspirins before her head explodes, and something for the burning stomach and nausea too. And maybe if she feels better, she will remember. 

“I’m thirsty,” she said fighting the dryness of her mouth. 

His arm retreated, and his hand lightly brushed the skin of her abdomen, and soon was gone, but not the goosebumps on its wakening.   

“The glass is empty, but if you give me a minute, I’ll get you some more…”  

“Don’t worry. I’ll get up…” she said without moving to get off the bed right away.  

His weight shifted in the mattress. Hamid rubbed his eyes and stretched his arm aimlessly until his fingers reached the switch in the wall. The room was flooded by bright light.  

“Turn it off, please!” she squealed scrunching her eyelids. Her hands flew to her eyes, mostly because of the bright lights, and only partially because of the brief sight of his bare torso. “Why are you shirtless? Are you naked?” 

“Don’t you remember?”  

“I-I don’t…” 

“Allah Allah, I thought that was memorable...” 

The pacing of the tiny percussionists inside her brain grew even faster and stronger, and her heart joined the rhythm.  

“What are you talking about?” she dared ask with a strangled voice. 

“The re-enactment of the projectile vomit scene from the Exorcist,” he said very slowly, and realization dawned on her. 

“Oh, my god! I puked? On you?”  

“Fortunately, you had asked me to take you to the toilette, and my t-shirt was the target and not my face.” 

“I puked on you?” she repeated, shocked by the idea. 

What the flying fudge cracker! That's a whole new level of stupidity, isn’t it? Why did I drink this much? 

“I’m so sorry!” she mumbled, hiding her face in her hands. “That’s so gross… I-I… Sorry.”  

She wanted to run away and hide forever, but her body was so tensed it froze. 

“Hey,” he said softly, but she didn’t uncover her eyes. After calling her name, his hand reached one of hers, which she reluctantly let him grab – she couldn’t understand why on earth he was anywhere near her.

“It’s okay, Liz. You did nothing wrong.” 

“I’m pretty sure that’s untrue... I’m mortified... What else do I have to apologise for?” 

“Don’t worry, aside from the vomiting and being horny and handsy, drunk Liz makes delightful company...”

The joke did little to lessen her embarrassment. How can he be so chill about it? 

“What do you mean by ‘handsy’?” 

“You tried to kiss me and grab my butt.” 

“What? I would never!” she protested, knowing well enough that she prefers his sculpted torso and arms to his bottom, even though it has a nice round shape... And she's clearly still a bit horny. 

“You also took ‘no’ for an answer, which was remarkably respectful.” 

She let an exasperated huff through her mouth and pressed her hands against her face. “I can’t have this conversation now...” 

“We can revisit it some other time, I’ll gladly share the details.” 

“How about never?” 

Smiling, he sat straighter and lighted the lamp on the nightstand. His eyes, cleared of sleep, stared directly at hers, “Drinking like that is unusual to you, I understand. And you don’t have to feel embarrassed about what happened.” 

“That’s impossible...” she sighed and looked at him, wondering what else she has said and done. “Just to clarify, you’re not naked…” 

“No, I’m not. And I’d never cross that line. You were drunk and asked me to stay, and I did. To keep you company. That’s all.” 

Relief washed over her, and she smiled. “Thanks. For not… you know… and for sticking around.”  

“Don’t mention it. Someone had to hold your hair up, prevent you from dancing and falling on your magnificent bottoms, and bumping your head on the furniture.”  

“Oh, God! It did happen then!” Hamid nodded. “Is that why my head hurts?” Her fingers raked her hair, searching for any sign of a bump.  

“I’m pretty sure that’s the alcohol.” 

“What time is it?” 

He picked his mobile in the nightstand. “7:45.” Stealing a sideway glance at her worried face, his finger caressed the back of her hand, and he asked softly, “Are you sure you don’t want me to get you something to drink? Annabelle brought a bottle of isotonic drink. And I can get you something to eat…”  

“I – No, I’m fine now. Even thinking about food makes me sick… I’ll go to the... you know… and you... go back to sleep. Excuse me.” 

Hamid let go of her hand, and Elizabeth rolled to the opposite side of the bed, moving away from him, and not looking back even when she felt his stare. She swung her legs touching the carpet and noticed both her socks were gone. Her feet were heavy, just like the rest of her body, and she dragged them on her way to the en-suite. The touch of the frigid floor against the soles of her feet, caused her to shiver, and she mentally cursed not putting on the slippers. 

Closing the door, she barely had the time to turn on the light before her legs started giving away underneath her. Pressing her hands against the cool marble of the sink to support her weight, she avoided stumbling or collapsing to the floor. Performing every little task took too much energy, and she almost gave up on washing her face, but the invigorating cold water gave her the necessary boost to continue. By the time she took the toothbrush to her mouth, she needed to sit down. Flopping down into the wooden bench near the bathtub, she noticed Hamid’s white t-shirt soaked-wet dangling over the rim of the tub, and two pairs of socks hanging on the faucet.  

Suddenly, a panicked Hamid kneeling on the floor in front of her, begging her to keep her eyes open flashed before her eyes; was it a memory or her imagination? 

Her hand barely moved to brush her teeth, and her heavy eyelids were impossible to keep open with all the light around her. She would close them for one second, maybe two.  

The sound of the toothbrush falling and hitting the floor didn’t wake her up, but she couldn’t ignore the soft but persistent rapping on the door. 

“Liz,” Hamid asked softly, “are you alright?” 

Her hand rubbed the foam from her lips and chin, and she picked up the toothbrush from the floor. “I’m fine,” she replied getting up, and the movement made her dizzy. Slowly moving back to the sink, she heard him speaking again.  

“You’ve been in there for a very long time…” 

“I’m brushing my teeth.” 

She washed her mouth, took another gulp of tap water, and tied her hair in a high bun.

When she opened the door, Hamid was standing there, leaning against the doorframe with a worried look. It surprised her that he didn’t go back to sleep or to his own room. 

“How are you, really?” he asked, carefully speaking in a low tone that wouldn’t be uncomfortable considering the aftereffects of the alcohol.  

“I brushed my teeth, but my mouth still tastes like a smelly old brolly –” 

Hamid chuckled and it eased the frown of his brows. “That’s very specific. How do you even know what it tastes like?” 

“My mind does,” she sighed. “My head hurts. My stomach is on fire, and I could drink a bucket of water. And mostly I’m feeling incredibly dumb for drinking this much again...” And puking on you. 

“For now, we can take care of the head and stomach.” 

Walking past her, Hamid crouched and opened a door of the cabinet under the sink. With familiarity, he produced a white box with a red cross painted at the top from the first shelf and took a bottle of antacids and another of aspirins, both were placed on the sink in front of her.  

With a grimace she drank the liquid as instructed and the pill sat bitterly on her tongue while she waited for him to come back with the bottle of Gatorade.

Watching her swig half of the content of the bottle without stopping to breath, an amused smile parted his lips. 

“And for the dumbness –” 

“You’ll keep mocking me endlessly and not let me forget it...” her tongue was quicker and sharper than his ever would, and she huffed in frustration, letting her shoulders slump. 

“Why would I do that?” he asked softly, brows knitted together while trying to meet her gaze. 

She pursed her lips and said nothing in return. Shame taking over, her eyes focused on anything else but his face.  

“A word from you and I’ll never speak about tonight. A joke is not worth it, if it causes you pain. You can expect nothing but understanding from me. Like I said before, I truly believe you deserve kindness, hayatım[1], and not more criticism.”  

Her eyes flicked from her folded hands to his eyes, his expression changing from one of concern to a more relaxed one while he reminisced about the night before.  

“Last night, you have laughed, joked and been the most open around a group of people since I met you. You looked happy, truly happy. Relaxed. And that wasn’t just the alcohol. You were in a safe place and let your guard down. I agree drinking this much isn’t good for you... But why shaming yourself? Why not learning from it instead? You can’t change anything that happened, but you can make different choices in the future, if you desire, no? And if you don’t, I’ll hold your hair up again.” 

There was so much empathy in his tone that if she wasn’t so dehydrated, her eyes would be watering. She mouthed a soundless thank you and he inched closer. 

Standing behind her, he gently squeezed her shoulders, and they looked at each other’s reflections in the mirror.  

Instead of the pink plaid PJs, she was sporting a long sleeved green one with no buttons, and she wondered if Hamid was the one who changed it.  

As if reading her mind, he said softly, “Annabelle changed your clothes, after we cleaned you up.” 

“I must thank her later.” 

That was the first time she truly looked at herself.  

The reflection looking back at her was pale, her usual tan had completely vanished these past months; smudged eyeliner and dark stains of mascara accentuated the dark circles under her reddened eyes, which seemed smaller due to the puffy eyelids. She looked spent. The entangled hair had been pulled into a messy bun at the top of her head, and a few shorter curls had escaped the imposed restraint, sticking out close to her ears and neck. All in all, she was a complete mess while Hamid looked unfairly handsome with slightly flattened bed hair, the shadow of a beard and a big smile that caused the corners of his eyes to wrinkle; somehow, despite the vomiting, and deprivation of sleep she imposed him, there was so much adoration in his eyes that even in her current state was impossible to miss. 

“Hamid, can I ask you a question?” 

“Of course.” 

“Why are you here?” 

“Why are we all here, Liz? Isn’t that the fundamental Philosophical question?” 

“Silly,” she chided, and his chuckle was so very close to her ear when he leaned forward that raised all the hair in her body and fogged her brain for a while.

“You know what I mean! You could be sleeping tight in your bed right now... instead, you spent the night taking care of my dumb drunk arse... when you had no obligation to.” 

“I like your cute dumb drunk arse...” He winked, and she rolled her eyes. 

“I’m serious.” 

“So am I! I’m a fan.”

Chuckling, Hamid hugged her from behind, his arms wrapped around her waist, and he rested his chin on her shoulder. “Someone needed to hold your hair, and let’s say I know what it feels to be so utterly sloshed and not having anyone to look after me.” 

“You do?”  

He hummed. His breath fanned the bare skin of her neck.  

“But I won’t bother you with such an inane story. Let’s get you to bed.” 

“I wouldn’t mind listening to it...”  

His lips twitched, possibly surprised by the request, and he looked at her reflection in the mirror for a long moment, the way she hid a yawn against a palm, but still tried to keep her eyes focused on him. 

“Maybe some other time...” he replied while gently turning her around, but keeping her in the circle of his embrace, “You look about ready to fall asleep in my arms... not that I’d ever complain about that….” He winked at her, very flirty, in that Hamid-like fashion that makes her knees weak, and even though it wasn't far from the truth, she recognized the diversion right there in his words.

“I like a good bedtime story...” she said softly, tilting her face up to meet his gaze over her shoulder, “And your voice...” She might’ve learned a thing or two about charming someone with him.

“Then how could I not humour you?”

Smiling, Hamid helped her sit on the bed and pulled the covers over her legs, and she remained sitting, looking expectantly.

In the dimly lit room, Hamid sat in front of her, legs crossed, took a deep breath and broke the silence.

“I only got really sloshed a handful of times... My sisters took care of me, helped me hide it from my parents... But one time, it happened during a trip with friends... We went to Amsterdam for the weekend to celebrate my 19th birthday. Most of my memories are fogged... You must have seen what happens to six lads with loads of cash partying at Amsterdam...” 

“I actually never been there...” 

“Haven’t you? I must take you there. It's lovely in the spring.” 

His fingers reached her hand, and his thumb was very distractingly caressing the back of her hand, following the paths of green veins till her wrist and back. Another distraction, she realized. Caressing the back of his hand with her free hand in return, she asked, “What happened to you?” 

He hummed, and she suspected he was carefully choosing the words to continue. 

“Everything went brilliant until the night before our flight... We went clubbing and met these girls, very friendly, seniors at uni, gorgeous… and had us wrapped around their fingers.” He chuckled. “We followed them like puppies to another club and to another... By the time we got to the third one, I was so wasted, I could barely stand on my own, but I didn’t want to admit it and go back to the hotel... So, my friend Lewis stayed with me, but while he was away hitting on one of the girls or whatever… I don’t know… I guess I accepted a pill that was definitely not aspirin…” 

“Someone drugged you?” her voice shrieked, piercing her own brain, and she looked at his face over her shoulder, and he clicked his tongue. 

“Nobody was sober at that point, and I probably said I was cool with it...” Hamid paused at her concerned expression and tried to explain, “The day before, I tried space cake and smoked a little hashishe... anyway... It was a harmless experience. We laughed for hours sitting at the grass...” 

“But you were already drunk! You couldn’t consent!” Elizabeth snapped, head racing with all the legal issues this story poses. This was the sort of thing she worried about whenever going our to clubs and parties and one of the reasons she was vigilant with her and her friends’ drinks, and to hear something like that happened to Hamid not in theory made her chest tight, even though he sounded so nonchalant about it.

Hamid’s shoulders raised almost to his ears, and he let out a deep breath; the smile faltered a little and his expression transformed entirely.

Was he regretting telling me?

“Sorry,” she said, shaking her head, “I’m doing it again...” 

“It’s alright.” He intertwined his fingers with hers. “Maybe I should stop, so you can sleep.” 

She shook her head, widening her eyes to fight the sleep.

“I woke up at the hospital. Someone had found me lying on a bench at Oosterpark and called emergency. I had no documents, no coat, and no shoes... It was winter. My clothes were drenched from the rain…” 

“Wow... that's... you could have died...” Elizabeth pointed out the obvious, and instantly regretted it.

“Trust me, I know. The doctor gave me a long and detailed speech about hypothermia. And drugs. And unprotected sex, even though I don’t remember even kissing anybody… They poked me with needles, ran tests and gave me some pills just in case…”  

“Dude…” Elizabeth muttered but stopped before any of the concerns bubbling in her brain escaped again.  

He looked expectantly, but she didn’t know what to say. Taking a deep breath, she struggled to shut down that voice in her mind whispering judgmental and useless advice about something that happenend to him years ago, and listened to her heart. Pushing the covers aside, she moved on the bed and sat on the balls of her feet right in front of him.

“I – I’m sorry this happened to you,” she said softly and genuinely, and his expression eased when no chiding came out of her mouth.  

“I’m not,” he said, and the smile was back on his face. “Almost dying in such a stupid way had positive outcomes.” 

She gaped. “How can you see a bright side in this story, Hamid?” 

“There is always a silver lining,” he said with a familiar cheerful tone, but still soft enough not to bring her discomfort. “First, I realized I didn’t like drinking that much or getting hungover… I dance better, and my jokes are funnier when I’m sober. And from that day on, I’m an advocate of remembering the things I do and not losing my passport. So, I decided not to drink. Unless it is raki with babam and dedem[2]. Second, I don’t know if I’ll live a short or long life; but I can choose how to live my best life, with no regrets, appreciating the beauties, welcoming the joys... and obviously, adrenaline rushing through my veins fuels me!” He looked pointedly at her, and she remembered the incident with the horse. 

“Not with disregard to my safety,” he let out the words with a chuckle, holding her hands in his. “And, when my time comes, hopefully it won’t be blacked out drunk in a park bench...”

She held his hands tighter, as if possible to shield him from such a fate with sheer will. 

“I hope your learning process included finding a better group of friends,” she mumbled, and he chuckled.  

“Don’t be so hard, güzelim[3]. They are good people. At the time, we were too young and sheltered… mortality was not part of our vocabulary.”  

How incredible it must be to be so careless and not have this sort of concern!  

That was never the case for her.  

Death and sickness have been her companions in life for so long that her identity is linked to those grim subjects. In the past five years, no decision in her life has been made without considering either of them. Letting out a long and loud sigh, she pondered how different they were in so many more ways than she first assumed.  

“Gosh, if it were me… I’d…” she trailed off, and he jumped in to complete her sentence, “You wouldn’t leave me alone.” 

Lowering her gaze, but unable to control the blush that bloomed in her cheeks, she admitted he was right and that she wouldn’t leave him alone. 

“However,” she added, “I was going to say that if I were you, I’d never want to see those people again! How could they leave you like that? What sort of friend does that?” Her indignation transpired in her tone and disgusted face. 

“I don’t blame them. It wasn’t their responsibility to take care of me... I’m responsible for my choices, good or bad.”  

Meeting his eyes, there was no shame in them, on the contrary, Hamid’s countenance expressed relief. Noticing the attentive gaze studying him, he smiled. 

“I never spoke about any of this; not even to my sisters.” 

“Why not?” 

“They would gang up on me, obviously… and everything turned out alright. My friend Burak found my coat at the club, my passport and mobile were in the pocket... A happy ending.” 

She watched his face and the wide and bright smile directed at her. 

“You didn’t need to tell me either, so, why did you?” 

“There’s a simple explanation for that,” he said, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “In case you haven’t noticed, you are very special to me, Elizabeth Foredale, and I want you to know me. The real me. Isn’t this what people do? To get to know each other?” 

Even in the low light, his eyes were shining. His gaze could be described with many words, none of which was a synonym for friendly.

Touched by his words and without giving herself time to change her mind, Elizabeth’s hand cradled his jaw, and her lips touched his dimpled cheek in a gentle but lingering kiss.

After a fraction of a second to overcome the surprise, Hamid revelled on it, letting his eyes flutter closed to fully appreciate the gentleness of her touch, and his lips stretched into a wide grin.

It was nothing like the fleeting air kisses they often share. 

Before she considered ending the kiss, his hand covered hers, keeping it in place.

The alchool had drained her body, but right now every nerve was suddenly alight by his presence, by the warm touch of his hand on top of hers.

His eyes fluttered open to meet hers in a sidelong glance. They knew. They had crossed the line. They were no longer in friends’ territory. And, for the first time, she let herself want more, ignoring the boundary she herself tried to place between them.

She got greedy. 

When her lips slowly but steadily glided over the roughness of the slight growth of beard of his unshaved face to the turned corner of his smile, Hamid let out a soft exhale through his nose. The warmth of the air travelled over the skin of her hand and wrist inflaming her entirely, and her heartbeats sped up.

Taking a deep breath, her lungs were filled with Hamid's fancy perfume. It was intoxicating in an unexpected way: it quietened the entire world. Actually it quietened her mind. For once, her brain was entirely focused on this moment and all the overwhelming feelings Hamid stirred on her.

Any hesitancy slipped away at the sight of his tongue moistening his lips. And that was the last thing her eyes registered. Her brain could no longer focus on anything that was not Hamid's lips smoothly moving over hers.

His lips were very soft, incredibly so against her own. They brushed against hers for a brief quiet moment, but it was enough to irradiate a heat, an electricity throughtout her body. It was like a dam breaking, and she was flooded with so much want. The second time her lips brushed against his, she was certain this wasn't like any kiss she had before.

She pulled away enough to gaze into his eyes, the corners crinkled by an adoringly smile; even such a diminute distance seemed unbearable to Hamid, and his hand cupped her cheek to close the distance between their mouths almost entirely.

The tip of his long curved nose brushed against the tip of hers, and she could hear the smile in his voice when he said her name in awe, even with her eyes closed. His thumb brushed her lips, and butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

In her mind, Elizabeth envisioned more than once where and when their first kiss could happen. It always envolved a perfect romantic scenario, careful planning, fancy dinners and Hamid probably literally sweeping her off her feet. However, the reality was unplanned, and her brain might have short-circuited at some point... There's not even a carefully selected soundtrack playing in the background, just the sounds of their breathing and the pitter-patter of rain.

Yet, nothing could be more perfect than the way his lips welcomed hers. Her fantasies couldn’t compete with the reality of the tenderness of every gesture of his, the pressure of his lips, the light touch of his tongue over her lower lip, or the hand cupping her cheek so very gently.

When Elizabeth pulled back, his nose nuzzled her jaw and down her neck, and she gasped. The sound pleased Hamid, who hummed against her jaw and captured her lips one last time.

Her eyes met his briefly, but she quickly lowered her face, overcame by embarrassment and doubts of what to do or say.

The backs of his fingers caressed her cheek, and he whispered, “I could kiss you forever, Liz.”  

When her eyes raised to meet his, Hamid was already staring at her. His gaze could be described with many words, none amongst them was a synonym for friendly, and she rolled her lips inside her mouth.

“Did I make you uncomfortable?” 

She shook her head, and took a deep calming breath.

“You make me feel many things,” -- happy, giddy, confused, excited... and several other she'd be mortified to admit even to herself... -- “’Uncomfortable’ is not one of them.” 

His lips split into the widest grin she’s ever seen, before he swallowed and asked in a low and husky voice, “Care to tell me how I make you feel now?”  

“Right now?” Her lips rolled inside her mouth, and she focused on the feeling of being in his arms earlier. Except for her dear father, she can’t remember feeling safer around a man nor willing to spend a lifetime in an embrace. “Happy. Safe.” 

“I am glad you do. I want you to trust me.” 

She met his stare again, and he was flashing a broad unabashed smile. They didn’t move an inch, staring into each other's eyes. Was she even breathing? She couldn’t be certain she was. 

“Aren’t you curious about how you make me feel?”  

His question startled her. Of course, she wanted to know that, but how could she speak over the thunderous beating of her heart and risking dozens of butterflies flying away if she opened her mouth, like in the Brazilian soap operas with magical realism she used to watch with her mother as a kid. She pursed her lips and nodded, which was enough for him to carry on. 

“You also make me feel many emotions, Liz. The most frequent is happiness. A complete, perfect and unwavering bliss whenever I am around you. And even when we’re not together… My days are more vibrant since you are in my life…” 

“Even after tonight?”  

“Why would tonight change anything?” 

“Aren’t you even a little upset? Tired?” 

“Tired?” He clicked his tongue. Leaning impossibly closer, he whispered into her ear, “Inşallah[4], someday you’ll see how long I can keep going without any sleep...” When Elizabeth shivered, the pleased smirk in his lips indicated that was the intended effect, and he rubbed his hands against her arms. “However, you, my dear, seriously need to rest.” 

“Actually, father wanted to have breakfast with me and after brunch I promised to go with Annabelle and Briar to this spa at Moorfield and –” 

“As much as I believe you to be an overachiever, you need to rest, Liz,” he cut off the flood of words. “Besides, the last Annabelle checked on you was around 4am... So, trust me on this, go back to bed, we won’t see any of them before lunch. And message your father, tell him you have a minor headache and will be staying in your room until you feel better…”  

Elizabeth listened to his reasoning and bit one thumbnail. Judging by the way she looked, no amount of coffee would keep her functional long enough to perform any social activity. Finally, she gave in to the irresistible call of the bed.  

Hamid went to the en-suite, while she typed the message to her father, ignoring the stinging feeling in her stomach, that could be guilty from skipping breakfast with him or due to the hole the alcohol probably burnt there. But Hamid was right, it was past the time to prioritize her needs, even if it meant disappointing others. 

After texting her friends, she was about to go through the several notifications in the screen, when the en-suite door opened and closed. Hamid’s silhouette strolling toward the soft light of the bedroom was all broad shoulders and strong arms. Over the screen of the mobile, her gaze fixed at him, admiring his confident swagger towards her.  

The blue light from the screen denounced her attempt of appreciating the sight inconspicuously, and Hamid grinned at the attention but for once chose to say nothing about it. 

When he turned around to settle the medicines and a glass of water over the nightstand, Elizabeth admired his taut muscles, and noticed the dimples on his lower back right above the waist band of his jeans. Her fingers craved to map every inch of his uncovered skin, and the thought alone sent a flow of heat all over her body. She forced her eyes back to the screen and turned the airplane mode on before putting the mobile away.  

Leaning forward, he touched the side of her face gently and kissed the top of her head. 

“I think you’re all set,” he whispered against her hair, “I’ll let you sleep now.” 

“You’re leaving?” her tone didn’t conceal the surprise and disappointment. 

“Don’t you want me to go?” 

“I-I wouldn’t mind… If you wanted to... stay... it’s a big bed…” She fidgeted with the hem of the shirt, without raising her gaze to meet his, and couldn't find the right words to speak, and stuttered the ones she found, even if they didn't make sense, “It doesn’t... mean that we... anything... I guess... but you don’t have to go. If you don’t want to.” 

“I understand," he said, smiling to himself. "If I stay, do we get to cuddle like before?” 

She swallowed and couldn’t prevent the smile from curling her lips whem she nodded.  

Without another word, he sat on the bed.

She moved aside to give him space, and went under the covers, lying on her back. The fragrance of his perfume on the pillows was inebriating.

When the mattress shifted with his weight, she took a deep breath. The lights were dimmed to their softest glow and a moment later, Hamid was lying beside her on his back, stirring the flutter of thousands of butterflies in her stomach. 

He stretched one arm, adjusted the pillow over it, and, with a nod of his head, invited her to rest her head.

Elizabeth obliged, moving closer and let her head rest in the pillow. Hamid's arm encircled her waist, he kissed her temple and whispered in her ear, “Sleep tight, Liz!”

Her answer was an almost inaudible “You too, Hamid.”

In Hamid's embrace, Morpheus visited Elizabeth unsurprisingly fast, not giving her any time for second guessing her decisions.  

A familiar melody invaded his dreamless sleep and Edmund stirred in the bed, failing to recognize his whereabouts.  

The mattress shifted when the woman sleeping beside him turned around, facing the other way. Flashes from their conversation and kisses invaded his mind, but were soon chased away by the persistent melody getting louder.

His hand patted his pants first, and then the space between them until he found the mobile that slipped from his pocket.  

It was dark and he could barely open his sleepy eyes, but he would recognize the caller’s picture anywhere.  

His gaze flicked to the black hair sprawled over the duvet, and he jumped out of the bed, instinctively shying away from the incriminating scene. Moving closer to the wall, he coughed twice, clearing his throat, before accepting the call, and prayed for silence. 

“Hello, mother,” he spoke in the lowest but clearest tone possible trying not to wake the woman in bed. 

“Let me talk to Theresa,” the woman barked the order, forgetting any rule of politeness – not that she reserved that kind of curtesy to her eldest son, especially not after he became the only one. 

“She’s currently not...” Edmund stuttered and considered what to answer. “We’re not together... at the moment. I was sleeping.” 

“She’s not with you!” The woman muttered something under her breath he could only assume were not compliments about his fiancée’s competence to follow orders. “Find her. And have her call me. Immediately.” 

“Alright, mother. I’ll let her know you –” 

Before he could finish the sentence, the call ended.  

The conscience of where he was standing and with whom and the possibility of a scandal was enough to force out of his body any sleep. A last longingly gaze focused on the woman sleeping before he cautiously sneaked out of the bedroom. This was just the beginning.

Notes:

[1] Hayatım – Turkish – term of endearment that means “my life” or “my dear or darling” in this context. 

[2] Babam and dedem – Turkish – father and grandfather. 

[3] Güzelim – Turkish – mean “my beautiful”. 

[4] Inşallah – In Turkish, the word inşallah or inşaallah means "If God wishes and grants"