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hazelfoureyes · 9 months ago

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The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (part 3)

I deadass wrote part one as a one shot. Is this what peer pressure is? I love it.

It would have been easy to forget you, your soul was his anyways so the real fun had already finished. But that pesky video hit most streamed in 24 hours, he couldn’t even walk to the butcher without hearing you scream his name from errant phones. Surely there was a way, even from hell, to finish what he started and get you out of his system.

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x reader, smut, soft Alastor, unprotected sex (duh?), creampie, edging a little, feelings, Valentino exists, Vox also exists, literally wrote this split screen with part 2 on the right side so I could line it up right like he does hehe, Alastor has a bad time

tag requested: @astraechos , @thekanrojimitsuri2 , @hoeforalbedo , @crazylazybabyk , @oddball08 , @lovingyeet , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it , @random-3455 , @alicehasdrowned , @des-deswain5621 , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @doctorswife221b

When Val released, ‘The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice’, it immediately went viral. The website crashed, downloads surpassed his wildest, horniest dreams.

It’s scary but also hot? ☆☆☆☆☆

Eat me Mr. Radio Demon!

I’ve never wanted to be a pussy so much in my life.

The reviews were all favorable, the comments rolling in, it was perfect.

Until Vox said it wasn’t. He had seen the video, but figured no one would care about seeing Alastor fuck anything. It wasn’t the success that got under his skin, it was the wave of positive attention it brought Alastor. Suddenly everyone was tuning in to his broadcasts, little miss princess’s hotel was busier than ever.

And it was ubiquitous. Every screen seemed to feature Alastor’s breakout role.

“I said pull it, Val!” Vox slammed his hands on Valentino’s coffee table.

“Vox, baby, you’re being really sensitive about this. I’m literally fucking piles of money right now. Actual piles of money, like, person sized piles.” Val took a drag of his cigarette, “Its good for business.”

“Would you rather fuck money, or me?” Vox’s screen glitched.

Val leaned his elbows on his knees, “That’s a really difficult question for me and I think you know that.”

“Augh! Val! Think of the big picture! That obsolete dickhead gaining attention means gaining power. And that’s bad for business.”

Val’s eyes fluttered, “What if we like, say it wasn’t him?”

Flashes of Alastor’s face fazed in and out of focus across Vox’s screen, your body flipping over, a mess of tentacles writhing.

Val took off his glasses, “Oh yeah, that’s pretty obviously him.”

“What is?” Vox’s face splintered back to the screen.

“Do you—- do you not know you’ve been like,” Val used his cigarette to gesture at Vox’s face, “just straight up playing his porno?”

Vox’s hands flew to his screen, “No! Fucking shit! What the fuck!!” He picked up a vase and threw it across the room, “Wipe it clean off the server! Delete it! Ban it’s fucking streaming! End of discussion!”

Val shrugged, he owned every bootleg distributor in the pride ring. He’d pull it and up the price threefold for illegal downloads. “Whatever you want, amorcito.”

Alastor was quite happy the video went ‘underground’ of sorts. The first month after you left, he was plagued by the sound of your voice. Everywhere he went it seemed you were screaming his name, every phone and television a conduit for you.

What really bothered him though, was the reaction others had to him. Where once sinners leapt from his path and set theirselves on fire to avoid him, now people winked and waved. It made his skin crawl. When alive, at the peak of his radio show fame, it wasn’t uncommon to have fans approach him in jazz clubs. But the decorum of 1930's jazz fans was a far cry from the brazen displays of desire from the citizens of hell.

“Perhaps I should have thought it through?” He mused.

“Ya think?” Rosie put her tea down, “Was it worth it, at least?”

He mulled the question over. Worth it? Well, he had your soul. Which is grand. But you weren’t even in hell to be called upon. What did he really get from the deal? Alastor brought his palm to his face, already feeling the blush spreading. Rosie's chuckle didn't help. He did get something. You'd been gone a month, and each day he woke up having forgot you existed. And every night he lied down to rest and imagined your eyes staring back at him. Did he want to fight you, or surrender, when he saw that look? When the silk tie had fallen from your face, slipping down your nose to reveal your intense stare...He thought his heart had stopped. For every ounce of resilience in your voice he found a pound of fury in your gaze. What poor luck Valentino had been given to receive you as an offering.

"Too soon to tell." He leaned back, finally dropping his hand.

“Well it seemed you had a good time… not that I could see much through the green glow and all that static noise. Really spoiled the climax with that move, Alastor dear."

Alastor’s eyes were saucers, “Rosie. Are you implying-,”

“What?” She drew out the word, “I thought you weren’t into those things so of course I was curious!”

He sighed, “I’m not.”

Rosie pushed the teaspoon around her cup with one finger, “Sure looked like you were.”

He crossed his arms, indignant, “You don’t have to have an appetite to enjoy a meal.”

“Message received loud and clear dear! I won’t bring up the subject again.” She cackled and changed the topic to the latest gossip around the colony.

Another night staring at the ceiling, mind ghosting over the idea of you. He felt like he his sanity was unraveling Leaving his bed, he stepped barefoot onto the grass of the swampy forest he materialized into his room when he moved in to the hotel.

With an outstretched hand, Alastor felt for your connection. He couldn’t see it, but the weight of the chain connecting your soul to him sunk into his palm. Curious, he wrapped his fingers around the invisible links and pulled.

With a soft green glow, you rose from the grass.

His breath hitched, he hadn’t expected that. “It seems our deal really did stick, didn't it?" walking towards you, Alastor dropped to his knees at your feet. You were on your side, unmoving.

His head cocked to the left, ears turned in. Alastor crawled toward you, rolling you onto your back and opening your legs. He slotted himself there, “Hellooo,” He took your face in his both of his hands, elbows resting beside your ears, “Are you… sleeping, dear?”

This is ridiculous.

Alastor inspected your face; peaceful. It was a new sight for him, he'd really only ever seen you in some kind of rage or lost in pleasure. His hand slid down your body, realizing you were in the robe still. He laughed, but realized it was for no one. "Are you really going to sleep, hmm?" He hooked his hands under your knee and brought it up around his hip.

Nothing.

"I'm starting to get offended, dear." He leaned down and whispered into the crook of your neck. "If you don't wake up-" He slid down, the robe open enough to let his breathe ghost over your stomach. He stopped. He couldn't do anything to you while you slept. It was void of any enjoyment for him. Without your reactions, it was just....pointless. While he did enjoy your performance in the studio, he was taught to show respect for those of fairer means. A sleeping partner fell into that category.

He reached beneath you and straightened your robe that had bunched there under your body. Placing your leg back down by your ankle, he began pulling the collar up and closed it snuggly.

He stood there for a second, looking over you. It worked. You're here again. His mother had taught him that the human soul was most vulnerable at night. When asleep, the soul could wander from the body and travel earth and beyond. She even said people could train themselves, and with practice, remember their journeys even after waking.

Kneeling down, Alastor pushed your hair from your face, "Don't forget. What fun is there in that?" The shadow beneath your body shimmered neon green before you were swallowed by inky darkness and Alastor was once again, alone.

After his mother died, Alastor was often alone. Most of his time, really. Well, there were people always around. But they were staff, or hangers-on, or women looking for a comfortable life. They were dancers and bootleggers and musicians. Which was fine and grand. But, they never saw him. He never let them, they never tried. He was the radio host. The great dancer. The southern gentleman. The killer. The cannibal. The deer in the woods. Not a single person ever looked at him on earth and saw him. Which was precisely what he wanted, and manufactured with his wide smile and good manners.

So when your eyes bore into him from that tacky studio set, and he felt suddenly naked in front of you, he knew you were looking at the him. You saw him.

It was worth it. Alastor was willing to admit that to himself.

Over the next couple days, he would randomly try to pull you to him. Through out the day, in different places, he would summon your soul and wait. Nothing. It confirmed his theory, your soul was only able to leave your living body while you were asleep.

In the privacy of his room, Alastor paced the space between grass and carpet. What was this feeling? Nerves? He hadn't felt nervous since he was a child.

But, what was causing him a pause, was if he summoned you and you didn't appear. Maybe it had been a fluke? Maybe for the 7th time in 3 days he would pull on that connection and be left standing there, alone.

Still.

He ran his hands through his hair, trying to regain composure. Finally, he reached out for your ties to him, and pulled you into hell.

He held his breath, unconsciously.

With a glow, you appeared again before him. He was quick this time to approach you, setting beside you and leaning close to your face. Asleep.

"Is this my foreseeable future?" He asked, "Staring at you while you sleep, my doe."

Suddenly, you opened your eyes and met his. Reaching up, you grabbed him with both hands and pulled his face into yours. Your hands ran through his hair as you took him in a frenzied kiss. Alastor froze for a beat, but when your tongue licked at his bottom lip, he was brought back to the moment. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, rolling over yours and reaching as deep as he could. He felt like he could unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole. He really could, if he wanted to.

Alastor swung his leg over your body and straddled your hips. "Mon cher, you've finally joined me." His chest was rising and falling with excited breath.

"Alastor?" You tried to feel your body, but it was nowhere near you.

"Don't worry your pretty little head. You're still alive and well. I've merely borrowed your soul for the evening." He looked down at you, and finally, for the first time in what felt like months, your eyes fell to his face.

But today, they were soft and out of focus.

"Can you see me, my dear?" He leaned down slightly, trying to read the look on your face.

"Am I dreaming?"

He chuckled, "Perhaps we both are." With an exhale he wondered if he had been holding his breath this entire time. "No, this isn't a dream."

"I don't understand...but--," You lifted your arms towards him, "Should I say thank you? It was fucked, what happened." Your voice was slow, words a little slurred, "But, I'm home safe and sound now. You did what you promised me. I don't know if I'll ever see you again so...should I thank you now?"

Your tongue felt fat in your mouth, heavy and delayed.

Alastor leaned down over you, "You don't have to say anything." He used his knees to open your legs, and settled there. "Unfortunately, you've become a little worm in my mind." His hands slid under the silk robe you hadn't stopped wearing yet, "I'm hoping if I finally have you, I can...whet my appetite, and return to my normal self." He felt along your hips, hands stopping when he realized you were naked under the thin piece of fabric.

"I keep remembering," you covered your eyes with your hands, "that big hand of yours. And I realize, you never touched me past that."

He smiled, genuinely, truly, "Exactly! You understand the problem precisely. Shall we both have our fill and be done with it?"

You moved your hands to touch his ears, waiting for him to disappear at any moment, "Please. I'm so tired of missing someone I don't even know." He removed your hands, and you held them to your chest.

"My thoughts exactly, mon cher." He adjusted his hips, letting his crotch rub against your core. This was the closest he had been to you since you'd met. It was dizzying, and it felt like his skin was vibrating everywhere it met yours.

A soft moan left your throat, causing his cock to twitch in his pants. Yes, it was you. This wasn’t his standard response to such sounds. Alastor sat up, his legs bent and knees at either side of your hips. Taking one of your hands from your chest, he placed a kiss on a digit. Then another. He kissed his way down your arm.

“So gentle. Weird.” You tried to focus on him, but your mind was still cloudy. The sensations were here but also so far away, too far away, in another lifetime all together.

“Was I not gentle before, all things considered?,” he continued his way down your arm.

You let your eyes drift to the sky, stars watching you from above, “More than him.”

His mouth went dry at the mention of Val, "I am many things more than him, darling." As his lips found your neck, he took a deep breath. "I can actually take my time now. No audience." He sucked a bruise, and released you with a pop. He presented two fingers to your lips, and without thinking about it you began to suck them. While you were slipping your tongue over and between his fingers, he moved to continue a trail of kisses and nips down your right arm.

"Get them nice and wet." He watched through half lidded eyes as you licked his long fingers. He knew he needed to remove his hips from yours, but the idea pained him. Finally, he took his fingers from you and swiped them over your entrance. Your chest jumped, so he did it again. He tried to push the fingers into you, but the resistance was more than he expected. You were wet, but tight. He let his middle finger slip inside you. So soft. So warm. His shadow tendrils allowed him some feeling but not this, this was something they kept to themselves.

"When was your last time, mon cher?"

Your mind searched for memories still left behind in your body somewhere, "In hell."

"You're in hell now."

"This doesn't feel like hell." You ground your hips onto his palm, trying to get that single digit slowly moving in you to come deeper, to become more. He replied by pushing in his pointer finger, erection becoming painful already as you let out a little moan. Bending them up, he began to make long thrusts past your g-spot. His mouth long stilled on your arm, staring at your face as you whimpered into the sky.

"Look at me."

Your eyes darted to him, half open and wet. Alastor felt his patience snap. Undoing his belt and zipper, he finally freed his cock. He ran his head between your entrance to your clit , gathering your fluids on him to ease his entry. Taking both of your legs, he held them at the ankles and set them on his left shoulder. With your hips slightly raised, he pressed into you.

With a hiss you dug your fingers into the dirt, body tensing instinctively. One of his arms hugged your legs to his chest, the other was now bruising your hips as he continued to push into you. With just his head in, he began fast and shallow thrusts. Every time making more progress into your warmth. The stretch burned, but the feeling of him forcing space into you for himself just made you wetter.

Finally, he bottomed out. He had no sense to still himself, shallow thrusts gave way to long, deep plunges. Alastor's breathing was filling the space around you, mixing with your own. Leaning back, he looked down at where you two were connected.

He withdrew slowly, nearly entirely, and pushed back in. Again. And again. It was intoxicating, how he felt himself melt into you. He'd had lovers in life, but never had he been with someone without a barrier of some sorts. Be that his well placed smile or latex. He'd never fucked anyone raw before. He almost regretted not trying earlier, as the sensation of your walls and arousal sticking to his cock and thighs was breaking him. Watching himself entirely disappear inside you, he closed his eyes. Everything was so hot, so tight, would he disappear entirely? Would he lost in the pleasure your body was so effortlessly giving? Was he the unlucky one?

Alastor pushed your knees up to your chest, using his body weight to hold them down as his paced picked up. You brought your dirtied nails to your own legs, holding on tightly. Desperately you needed something to tether you to the ground, keep you still against the twitches shaking your stomach and chest. You felt with any jolt to your nerves you'd fall off the world and drift into the night.

He felt the build up, his balls tightening and drawing in, he wanted to slow down-- he wanted to bring you there first but he couldn't stop the rutting of his hips. With a whine, Alastor's forehead came to rest on yours, hips smacking into you with a wet slap. "Look at me," He commanded again, and you obeyed. One of his hands came to your chin to hold your head still, "Don't you dare look away."

Struggling to keep your eyes open, he pushed into you with one final, deep thrust. His hands came down now to the ground around you as he pushed you into the grass. Hips stuttering, cock twitching in you. You'd never let anyone cum inside you before, the sensation of heat quickly filling your cunt made you tighten around him. "Good girl", He purred, jaw tight.

He pulled back slowly before bringing his hips down, sweat sticking to his forehead where it met yours. His pace was quickly becoming brutal, a hand finding its way to that little bud of nerves of yours. With rough pressure and hurried speed his thumb drew out your orgasm. When you came, you gasped out his name, craning your neck up to ghost your lips over his open mouth. As the pleasure surged from your center, you could feel your body again. He tried to keep his eyes on your eyes, but the overstimulation of your cunt trying to wring him dry forced him to shut them.

A light shone through his eyelids, startling them open again.

"Wait-!" He watched you get pulled away from beneath him. Before he could react, Alastor was on all fours in the forest, alone. Eyes wide, he pounded his fist against the grass. He tried to summon you back to him, to drag you to him but nothing happened.

He thought he'd gone crazy. Hands came to his head, smile pained as he tried to process what he was feeling.

No.

Not enough.

Too soon.

A growl ripped through his chest. This hadn't satiated him at all. No, he was worse off now. He was starved, he had nourishment ripped from his mouth and he as angry for it. Angry to hell, to Valentino, to the conditions of owning a living soul.

He did not even attempt to rest that night. Taking his time, he had to find composure again. Alastor managed to pull himself together after several hours of self isolation. After his heart stopped racing, after his hands stopped feeling phantom skin beneath them, he calmed his smile and went about his day.

When night returned, he couldn't help but stare into the forest domain. He wanted so badly to bring you to himself, but that want was terrifying. It was overpowering him, and he couldn't accept that.

Another night left, another day passed. Husk found Alastor's cruelty to be growing, his patience giving out at the smallest perceived slight. Angel stopped engaging entirely. Charlie found herself wanting to approach him, find out why it seemed his hair was always standing on end, his eyes sharp. But, she didn't. She couldn't. Alastor would pass through the halls like a raging specter. He wouldn't slow or acknowledge anyone.

He managed a week. Satisfied with his resolve, he waited for when night fell and he was sure you'd be deep asleep, yanked your soul from your body and into him. He felt rabid, like he his brain was catching fire. Finally when you materialized before him, he grabbed your face with his hand.

"My doe?"

Just like before, you stirred, and your hands immediately went for his hair. He pulled back, "Are you awake?"

"Am I dreaming? Alastor?" You looked drunk, mind struggling to process the change in scenery. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he hovered above you, and you pulled him into a kiss. He happily returned it, hands quick to untie the robe you had taken as your own. He wasted now time in getting himself unsheathed and lined up with you, before he could enter you reached out to him, "I wanted to say--- thank you. I don't know if I'll ever really see you again."

The realization made his blood run cold. His mother's stories flooded back to him. It takes training, and time, to remember the travels of the wandering soul.

"You don't have to say anything." Alastor thrust into you, your body tense but not as resistant as before. When he was finally enveloped in you, he could feel himself calm. He didn't feel any need to be gentle this time around. He immediately set a bruising pace, digging his nails into the soft flesh of your ass as he forced your hips to meet his with every thrust. You gasped beneath him, eyes wandering up to the sky just past his head. He'd bring you to climax, wanting to drink in your expression, and to his horror as you choked out his name you were spirited away from him again.

Everyone on the floor heard Alastor's rampage. When Angel ran to get Charlie and Vaggie, they were scared to knock. With a steadying breath Charlie rapped the door, "Al? You okay in there?"

Suddenly, silence.

The door whipped open, Alastor smiling with half lidded eyes, "Why of course. What ever made you think otherwise?"

"The fuckin' sounds of carnage, maybe?" Angel looked past Alastor. The sofa shredded, coffee table in pieces. The wallpaper had been ripped down and torn to shreds. Charlie noticed the dirt under his nails, but Alastor coolly pulled his hands behind his back.

"Can I do something for you?" His tone was cold.

"I guess not, Al...," Charlie took in the damage, "Did something happen?"

Alastor smiled wider, "No," and closed the door. No one saw him the following day, which wasn't entirely unusual but it was weighing on Charlie. When Alastor finally appeared and announced he was going to Cannibal Town, she was elated. A chat with Rosie would surely bring him back to himself.

"I don't see the problem. You've got her soul, you can summon her to you, and you get a little," She searched for the word, "relief. Why do you look so pained, old friend?"

"You know better than most I have no interest in chasing women, Rosie."

"Yet..." She cocked her brow.

"It isn't about the release. I don't particularly need that. I never have." He huffed, the conversation already exhausting him, "When I would kill someone, I was God. Their life was in my hands. I took that power from them."

Rosie clicked her tongue, "And when she's in your hands?" Alastor hunched over his black coffee before remembering himself and straightening his back. "I've never seen you like this before, hun. You've got it bad, huh?"

"Personal connections like this, Rosie, are dangerous. I lost my self restraint entirely. It's a weakness." He fought to regain his smile, never knowing who could be passing by.

She tutted him, "Oh no, that's where you're wrong. The difference between a strong man and an unstoppable man is having something to care about." Rosie leaned over and set her hand on top of his, "Imagine you walked into Val's studio right now and found her like you did a couple months ago. How would you react?"

His stomach wretched forward, if he saw you today, hanging from the ceiling? The stench of Valentino's cigarette smoke clinging to your hair, the marks where his hands had made contact with you? His hand under her's tightened, claws leaving marks into the wooden tabletop. "Do you feel weak right now, Alastor?" The hair on his ears was standing straight up, his now black eyes met hers, "You sure don't look it."

He’d remembered hearing something similar before from Vaggie. Could it be true? It was a precarious ladder. If he let himself be close to someone, then the person is in turn close to him, then that person knows him intimately, and then— they are a walking soft spot. Someone could take them and torture them for information. Or, hurt them to hurt him.

But, who would dare? A fire rose in chest at the thought. What was the point of power if he couldn’t have what he wanted? If he had to answer to others about his desires? To pursue strength and status was what he wanted but if that strength didn’t afford him freedom than what good was it, really?

"I say, not that you asked," Rosie smiled and withdrew her hand, "Could be nice to have a little company now and then. Plus, better than waiting 60 years or something for her to just die." She shrugged, "Now, eat. You look like a shit."

Rosie had a point, while your existence was fragile, it was still available to him.

For awhile, he would call you nightly. Alastor would fuck you into the grass, beneath the trees, under the stars. He learned your orgasm would wake you, and he would draw it out as long as he could. He'd edge you for hours, watching you sob for your release. Slowly, your consciousness became more and more solid during your meetings.

To his relief, his hunger for your presence calmed over time. He could handle a week or even two without sharing your company, and he noticed each time you seemed to recognize him more. You'd participate more, moan louder, scream his name and squirm from the pleasure. He relished trapping you underneath his wide shoulders, pulling you onto his lap as he fucked up into you.

He wasn't fond of the few times he summoned you and you were already wet, or smelling of cologne. He'd tease, "Lonely?" and when he'd fuck his back cum into you before helping you chase your own orgasm, he'd remind you, "You're mine, little doe. No one can replace me." And he'd feel his chest swell. Others had your body for the night, but your soul was his forever. With every meeting, he felt more like himself. And the nights you were screaming his name in the forest, and his horns were looming over you as he marked you over and over as his, he felt powerful.

Some nights, he'd call you to him to just let you rest. He'd enjoy a book, or some jazz over a meal, while you lied quietly in his bed.

The days he pulled you into hell and your hair smelled of the trees, of sweat and dirt, he would be gentler. He could feel the ache in your muscles, the tan on your cheeks, and sent you back.

One such night came, where he of course took your chains in his hand and tugged. But this time, when you arrived, your face was painted with anger. You were asleep still, and even when he whispered to you, you didn't wake. You were having a nightmare, from what he could tell. He took you to his bed, and let you settle.

You stayed there until waking up again in your bed.

And every night that week, he'd bring you to his bed and go about his tasks while you fought some demons in your head. He'd never seen you have a nightmare, and began to wonder if something was happening in the overworld.

Alastor was enjoying a deer carcass in his room, humming softly to himself, when a green light erupted on the floor.

He was well aware it wasn't night anymore, and that he hadn't brought you here. With a soft smile, he left his meal and approached the light. Slowly, your body rose from the darkness there. Not just your soul.

When you looked up at him, a smile on your lips and two small doe ears on your head, he grinned, "Did you miss me terribly, my little doe?" He offered you a hand up, "Welcome home.”

༻Masterlist༺

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griffinsabina · 9 months ago

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If there will be a Blades 3, i hope the love interest don't get alternative romances, except between each other. They can't give them all one, there's too many of them. If they do, I think Imtura would get one being the least popular choice. I don't want her to get the Luke Harper treatment, i hated it. It would've been fine if all four got one, but only him and Hamid possibly had one in the Christmas book. When I pushed him under the mistletoe with Annabelle's sister, he was receptive, while Ernest became uncomfortable. I'm just glad they didn't pull that shit with Griffin and Aster.

#playchoices #blades of light and shadow #blades 3 #desire and decorum #imtura tal kaelen #luke harper #mine #text post

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crazy-loca-blog · 2 years ago

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This one was hard to do for two main reasons:

I'm very picky when it comes to choose my top LIs, to the point I don't think I could even fill a Top 10. In fact, I'd say I have a "Top 1... and the rest of them". So I decided to add a Top 3 and some "runner ups".

I tend to choose the LIs (or I did it when it was possible 🙄) based on my MC's personality, and not necessarily on who I like the most. So I had to find some common ground to do this.

Note: I used to be the type of person who'd say "I don't have a type", but then, I discovered Choices 😂.

Top 3 Thursday - Week 3

Welcome to Top Three Thursday! 💙

FIRST, a few quick rules!

Please reblog your answer - don't create a new post. The point is to keep us all together in one place and to get to know each other.

You can answer any way you like - basic answer, headcanons, fics, moodboards, edits, artwork - be as creative (or not!) as you like.

Pixelberry Choices-related content only.

PLEASE BE KIND! People will have different options, thoughts, headcanons, and likes - and that’s a good thing. Be respectful of one another.

For Week 3 - let’s get back to YOU!

WHO ARE YOUR TOP 3 CANON LIs & WHY?

If you’d like to be added to the tag list, let me know, but anyone can participate! Tags below break. 💙💙💙

@aces-and-angels @alj4890 @angelasscribbles @bebepac @coffeeheartaddict2 @cooltuna69 @hopelessromantic1352 @icecoffee90 @korgbelmont @kyra75 @lovealexhunt @missameliep @princess-geek @queenrileyrose @quixoticdreamer16 @secretaryunpaid @takeharryandgo @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction @tveitertotwrites @twinkleallnight @cariantha @crazy-loca-blog @headoverheelsforramsey @karahalloway @peonyblossom @peonierose @potionsprefect @jerzwriter-reblogs-asks @lucy-268

#top 3 thursday #t3t week 3 #playchoices #choices stories you play #ethan ramsey #raleigh carrera #simon montjoy #ernest sinclaire #drake walker #damien nazario #open heart #platinum #a very scandalous proposal #desire and decorum #the royal romance #the royal heir #perfect match

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urscorpiosworld · 2 years ago

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this whole scene was TOO funny the way he was sO ready to beat the prince’s ass😭😭

#choices #play choices #desire and decorum choices #desire and decorum #mr. sinclaire #desire and decorum 3

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jaylaxies · 1 year ago

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KINKTOBER DAY 18 — TOYS

PAIRING: haechan x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, use of toys (vibrator, hand cuffs, and dildo), mutual masturbation, usage of nicknames, haechan is a perv and so are you.

WC: 1.3k words

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, angels! hyuck and @jaeminvore never fail to make me go feral istg, i hope you all enjoy reading this :3 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated! iloveyou all <33

✎ kinktober masterlist

“If you wanted it so much then you could have just asked for it, sweetheart.”

The voice snapped you out of your daze, eyes opening to see a very smug smile plastered onto your roommate’s face, having caught you in the act of pleasuring yourself with what? A mere vibrator.

You were beyond embarrassed, also frozen as you did not expect to see him back at your shared apartment so early. He was solid two hours early as per his usual schedule, which gave you the perfect opportunity to play with yourself in the privacy of your room, not caring about being loud whenever he was out.

Problem? It was your roommate you always fantasized about while giving attention to your needy cunt, he was irresistibly attractive, and so was your insatiable need to have him, yet you couldn’t quite go to tell him the same, to maintain the decorum of being roommates and all.

Now, Haechan wasn’t a saint by any means. He had lost the count of times he had successfully stolen your panties (especially your white lace ones with the small bow in the middle), from the laundry basket, using the already soiled cloth to jerk off, wrapping it around his cock, his cum straining it further (but you did not need to know about that).

He too was equally as depraved when it came to fantasies—you being the reason and root of the core for the majority of his fantasies at least.

So, when he returned home early, only to hear your sweet moans lingering in the air, he knew he had to take his chances and intrude in hopes of catching you in the act.

What he did not expect, however, was to hear you whimper out his name with your eyes closed, legs spread enough to give him the clearest view of your wetness, along with the pink vibrator which you had been using to stimulate your swollen clit.

That’s exactly when he said that sentence, making you halt your movements altogether, yours legs closing with panic when he took a step inside the room.

“Though, I’m really offended if you think that a measly little vibrator will make you feel half as good as I can,” he spoke up, clicking his tongue before pushing it against his inner cheek, something he did when he was annoyed, or feigned annoyance if you take the current situation into consideration.

“Fuck! Hyuck, I—I’m so sorry, I didn’t know y—you’d be home,” you stated rambling, covering yourself up by side, avoiding eye contact at all costs, but he was quick to chuckle hearing your sentence.

“Shh, darling. You should be happy I’m here to help now. And since I’m so generous, I’ll be keeping the punishment time short,” he mused with amusement, yet you could see the glimpse of darkness in his eyes, swarmed with the desire he’s been holding back all this while.

You gulped, your hands barely hiding your tits as Hyuck shamelessly gave your body a once over, mumbling pretty under his breath.

“What do you mean? P—punishment?” You whispered, and Hyuck could have sworn the sight of you being confused and breathless made him want to ruin you.

He walked closer, leaning against your bed and closing the distance between you two, lips brushing against each other in a gentle caress, which sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel just how soft his lips felt, and you hadn’t even kissed him.

“So fucking cute,” he chuckled, “now be a good girl and open your legs for me if you wanna be fucked properly,” he whispered, his warm hand resting on your thigh, parting them and you gasped when the sudden gust of cold air hit your wetness.

“Fucked? Wait, Hyuck what?” You mumbled, lips on the verge of touching his and your heart felt weaker than ever.

“Just follow what I say, yeah?” He raised his brows, nodding and you found yourself in a daze, nodding back.

Then he leaned back, not giving you the kiss you were so desperately waiting for, rather, he bent down to get a box from below your bed, your eyes widening because Hyuck was not supposed to know where you hid your box of sex toys.

“Be good and you’ll get what you want, baby,” he smirked, seeing how innocent you looked, especially when he handcuffed your hands to the bedpost, getting your blue vibrating dildo out and keeping it beside you.

Your eyes were fixated on his figure, your breath hitching when he took off his T-shirt in one go, exposing his pretty melanin and the faintest abs, which was probably the prettiest sight you had even seen.

He then sat down on the couch right in front of your bed, spreading his legs as he sat, hand resting on his hardening cock. The print of his length was visible through his shorts, your mouth open and dry as the thoughts of wanting to have him in your mouth took over.

“Get that toy, baby. Let me see you pleasure yourself,” he urged, voice sultry and eyes hooded.

“Wait—you won’t touch me?” You asked, sitting with your one wrist cuffed, disappointment clear in your voice.

“So eager to be touched by me, sweetheart? First show me how much you want it,” he said, palming his cock through his pants.

Your body felt warm. Hyuck’s aura was strong, his gaze even stronger and you found yourself following his directions simply because you wanted to be good for him, your subspace pulling you right in.

“C’mon, baby. Show me how you use that dildo, and think of me while you do it,” he commanded.

You picked it up from your free hand, shyly spreading your legs to make space for it, switching it on and rubbing it all over your wet folds, eyes closing as you thought about Hyuck’s tongue, wanting it to replace the toy.

“Hyuck,” you whispered, the toy prodding at your entrance.

“Fuck,” he bit his lip, the sight in front of him was lewd yet the most innocent thing ever, he couldn’t help but get rid of his shorts, stroking his fully hardened cock now.

“Good girl, put it in your tight little cunt,” he said.

You nodded, eyes still closed and breathing ragged, a low moan leaving your lips, which caused Hyuck’s cock to twitch as you pushed the vibrating phallic in you, thighs closing and opening again at the sensation.

A whine of his name left your mouth again, and he could have sworn it was the prettiest sound he had ever heard. You continued your ministrations, leaving the dildo in your cunt and pressing a small vibrator on your clit, doubling the feeling of your unadulterated pleasure, your eyes watering when you saw him fucking his fist at the sight of you touching yourself.

It was too hot for you to handle.

“Yes, baby. Let go for me,” he whispered, watching your body shake and a tear falling down your cheek.

That’s it, that was your punishment—watching Hyuck touch himself but not touching you, which left you frustrated.

An irritated sound left your lips, causing him to chuckle and approach you again.

“What’s wrong, darling? Not satisfied?” He asked, mocking you.

“Please,” you said in a small voice.

“Hm?” He asked, urging you to speak louder.

“Please touch me—fuck me,” you begged, surprising yourself as you had never been this desperate before, your body shivering as it ached for him.

His eyes darkened, his carnal desires taking over, “I hope you’re ready to be fucked all night, darling,” he said, voice deep and promising.

That’s all he said before capturing your lips into a deep kiss, pulling you closer by your neck, your knees weaker than ever as he bit your lower lip, making you go feral with just one action.

Oh you so knew it was going to be a long (and adventurous) night.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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#🎫 — kinktober!#ria:kinktober #haechan smut #donghyuck smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #haechan au #haechan x reader #haechan scenarios #nct fanfic #lee haechan smut #kpop smut

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choicesficwriterscreations · 2 years ago

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CFWC Tumblr Top 3 - 2022

Please see below for links to each fic and more information.

Thank you to all our talented creators who have participated in this event and provided outstanding content throughout the year!

🖤 = Adult Content/18+ 🔥 = NSFW/18+ Only

@aallotarenunelma

Burnt Orange Leaves | ILITW - Dan Pierce, F!MC

Bathed in Sunlight | BOLAS - Tyril Starfury x F!elf!MC

The Little Cabin in the Woods | ILITW - Conor Green x F!MC

@cariantha

Allergic to You | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

You Look Very | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

The Boyfriend Excuse | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

@coffeeheartaddict2

Precious | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC 🖤

Begin Again | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

I Honestly Love You | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

@genevievemd

Tattoo | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Something About You | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC 🔥

Like the Leaves | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

@headoverheelsforramsey

Family Traditions | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Back to the Beginning | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Another Senator | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

@jamespotterthefirst

Jealousy | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Umbrella | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

The L Word | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

@jerzwriter

Tobias & His Lovely Ladies | OH - Tobias Carrick x F!MC

This Christmas | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Message Delivered | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

@liaromancewriter

Always My Number One | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

The Prize | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Convincing the Chief | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

@lucy-268

Coffee Break | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Happy Birthday Charley | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Not Meant to Be | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

@missameliep

Like Poetry | BOLAS - Tyril Starfury x f!human!MC 🖤

In Your Arms | Bolas - Tyril Starfury x f!elf!MC

A Love Like No Other | D&D - Ernest Sinclaire x MC

@peonierose

A Pinch of Pink and Blue... This One's for You | Bryce Lahela x F!OC

Go Blonder | OH - Bryce Lahela x F!OC

Late Night Talking | OH - Bryce Lahela x F!OC

@peonyblossom

Love Lost | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Donahue's | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Expectant | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

@potionsprefect

Birthday Surprises | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Healing Old Wounds | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

The Gossip Machines | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

@storyofmychoices

Home Sweet Home | OH - Bryce Lahela x F!OC

Sharing is Caring | OH - Bryce Lahela x F!OC

The Sound of Joy | OH - Bryce Lahela x F!OC

@theartoflovingthomashunt

Love Finds a Way | RCD - Thomas Hunt x F!OC

Rate My Professor | RCD - Thomas Hunt x F!OC

My Weakness | RCD - Thomas Hunt x F!OC

@trappedinfanfiction

Kiss it Better | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Lazy Days | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

A Crash With Fate | OH - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

#choices fanfic #playchoices #choices fic writers creations #cfwc tumblr top 3 2022 #open heart fanfic #blades of light and shadow fanfic #it lives in the woods fanfic #desire & decorum fanfic #red carpet diaries fanfic #cfwc special events

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loversatthegreatdivide · 6 months ago

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Heavy Lies the Heart - Chapter 1

Masterlist // Continue Reading

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!OC Word Count: 2k Tropes: mutual pining, fluff, angst with a happy ending, royalty Warnings: death Summary: When two second-borns looking for direction meet by chance, can they find purpose in each other? Or will circumstance keep them apart? A/N: This starts at the beginning of season 3, but some timeline things are a bit different here than in the series. Also I'm changing history--it's fine, it's basically in an alternate universe anyway.

A new season had begun, and it was with an all too familiar sense of annoyance that Benedict Bridgerton found himself arriving once again at the Danbury ball. If not for his mother's insistence and his desire to support Francesca in her first season out, he may not have come at all.

Benedict certainly had no desire to join the mart, and he found society and it's rules disingenuous at best, insufferable at worst. It was another season. Another ball. Another night of counting down the minutes while avoiding the attentions of the more emboldened debutantes and their scheming mamas.

Then again, what else had he to do? With his exit from the academy and Anthony's return, he felt rather unmoored. Adrift with no real purpose or goal. A second son with no role to fill or any steadfast ambitions. Even his younger brother Colin seemed to have truly found himself in his time abroad.

What would it take for Benedict to feel so secure?

The ball had barely begun, yet already Benedict found himself hounded by the attentions of the young ladies of the marriage mart. He suspected this was due, in no small part, to the transformation of his younger brother. Colin seemed to rather enjoy the attention, but Benedict found he did not feel the same. At the first opportunity, he made a quick exit, escaping to the safety of the garden. He stood alone, close enough to hear the music inside but far enough to feel the weight of expectation lift. He took in a deep breath of the crisp night air, and sighed in relief.

As he enjoyed his moment of peace, he heard a commotion from inside. Given the excitement, he could only imagine that the queen was finally in attendance. Always the most anticipated guest, yet always the last to arrive. He thought to avoid the fanfare, sipping the lemonade in his hand as he enjoyed the night's sky.

Benedict spend some time just appreciating the silence, but knew he would have to return soon. With things inside having quieted somewhat, he supposed it was as good of a time as any. He was also aware that certain members of his family would likely be cross with him if he disappeared for too long. He sighed, downing the last of his drink before turning to enter the fray once more.

He set his empty glass on a nearby table as he ventured through the crowd. He looked across the room, making eye contact with both Anthony and his mother. At the very least they would know he hadn't fled the grounds altogether.

He scanned the crowd, thinking he ought to at least check in on his three remaining siblings. Instead, his eyes landed on a young woman.

She was lovely.

Her golden hair was tied up simply, with a few stray curls falling to frame a heart shaped face. Brown eyes sat below worried, upturned brows as her full, rosy lips held a nervous smile.

She stood in a crowd of young men, the lot gathering around her like circling wolves as they vied for the attentions of their pray. The young woman looked anxious as she attempted to hold fast to decorum, her smile wavered but never completely disappeared. Benedict thought perhaps he should rescue the poor girl, but as more stragglers joined the crowd, he wondered if he even could.

Before making up his mind, he saw her address the crowd with a quick word, before turning and, as swiftly as was proper, escaping into a group of debutantes. The men seem to argue with each other as they each tried to follow. But by the time they turned to do so, they had already lost sight of her.

But Benedict hadn't, his gaze following her as she weaved her way through the crowds.

She smoothly slipped between different clusters of people, clearly trying to avoid anyone's notice. Many did catch sight of her, but she quickly moved on before they could entrap her in a conversation. Soon she made it to the wall, which she followed until she had disappeared into the same door Benedict had only just entered from. It seemed he wasn't the only one who desired the calm of the garden.

He debated for a moment if he should follow. She was clearly overwhelmed, and likely didn't want another man pestering her--not to mention unchaperoned. He came up with a few shaky reasons that were in favor of it, but he knew they weren't honest ones. In truth, it was simply that his curiosity had been peaked, and he was attempting to rationalize why it was that he should follow.

Curiosity won out in the end, and Benedict once again made his way back out into the night.

He saw her sitting on a stone bench near the door, her lilac dress flowing out around her. It wasn't one that ladies would consider currently in fashion; having an hourglass shape and a full skirt rather than the more simple, straight shape of the dresses most of the ladies inside were wearing. Still, he thought it quite suited her.

She looked as if she had lept from the frame of a painting. Her face draped in moonlight as she stared up at the sky. A tear slid down her cheek, sparkling in the pale light, and Benedict suddenly felt quite ashamed of himself. He realized he had been selfish, planning to disturb the time she clearly needed to herself. He turned, intent to leave her to her thoughts. However, the scuff of his shoes was enough to get her attention and she turned suddenly. Her eyes caught his, and for a moment he stood frozen in her gaze.

Finally, he came to his senses and addressed her, his tone apologetic.

"Forgive me, miss. I did not mean to disturb you," he said quickly. She looked confused, but soon composed herself as she turned to wipe the tears from her face.

"No need to apologize sir," she began, turning to face him with a small, reassuring smile, "I was just getting some air."

Benedict took a few, small steps forward. He waited for her to object, but when she said nothing he took a few steps more. They were shoulder to shoulder, though he left a healthy amount of space between them.

"It's all rather stifling, isn't it?" he asked. He returned her smile, and she quickly turned her gaze down, running a gloved finger over the embroidered vines that decorated the bottom of her dress.

"Certainly more so than I had expected."

"Am I correct in thinking this is your first year? I don’t recall seeing you at one of these," he gestured vaguely at the manor, "before."

She looked back up at him, searching his face for a moment. Whatever she was looking for, she apparently found it. She smiled with a degree more enthusiasm.

"That's quite a skill, recalling the face of every young lady to grace such a grand event," she joked.

"I could say it was well practiced, but the truth is I would simply be unable to forget a face as lovely as yours," he replied. He could see her cheeks flush through the cool moonlight illuminating her face.

"You give compliments with such ease. Is that skill also well practiced?" she asked as she began to regain her composure.

"I may be prone to the occasional bit of flattery, but in this case I am quite sincere." She looked away in clear embarrassment, and Benedict had to look down briefly to hide the grin forming on his face. "But I have made you uncomfortable, forgive me; I shall say no more about it." Her eyes moved back to him, "I certainly wouldn't blame you for being apprehensive under such circumstances--given what I saw in the ballroom, I imagine you've had quite enough of men and their compliments."

She looked back up at him, "You mean those gentlemen who were speaking to me earlier?"

"The same. They all seemed rather...frenzied to gain your favor."

"Yes, I suppose," she agreed, looking forlorn, "though I believe their intentions were quite different than yours."

Benedict raised an eyebrow, "Oh?" He thought a moment, "If it was not your looks that drew them, was it perhaps the allure of a large dowry? Or possibly some grand title to be inherited?" She actually laughed at that, albeit more to herself than as a sign of amusement.

"Yes, I suppose you could say that," she agreed, "though they may be disappointed; they would certainly be settling for second best. It is my elder sister's family who will inevitably inherit my father's title, and sadly for those gentlemen she has already married."

Benedict was quiet for a moment, looking over her self-effacing expression with understanding and, in spite of himself, a measured degree of affection.

He smirked, "I thought there must be some reason we get on so well; I myself happen to be a second son. Maddening, isn't it? Always feeling like the spare?"

She looked at him in surprise, before relaxing into a grateful smile.

"It certainly can be," she agreed. She hesitated a moment, before deciding to continue, "I often feel as if I don't know what to do with myself. I have always existed to be my sister's replacement, should the worst happen. Now that she is married and with child, a replacement is no longer needed. So what am I, now that I'm no longer what I was born to be?"

Benedict had to think on that for a moment. He was hardly one to advise someone in the exact predicament he found himself in. Still, he hoped he could give her some degree of comfort.

"You're free," he finally answered. She looked up at him, her eyes locking with his. They stared at each other for a long, quiet moment until at last she looked away.

"If only that were true," she said softly to herself.

At that moment, the sounds from inside grew louder. The young woman looked back into the light of the ballroom. She sighed, then looked at him with a soft smile.

"I suppose I should return; I'm sure at this point I'm quite missed," she stood, smoothing out the silken fabric of her dress. "It was a pleasure to meet you, mister…?"

"Benedict. Benedict Bridgerton," he said, bowing gracefully.

"Mister Bridgerton," she repeated, "Well Mister Bridgerton, I do look forward to speaking with you again sometime."

With that she made her way towards the door. Just as she reached the threshold, she stopped. She quickly turned back to him, "Oh, and perhaps you should wait before returning indoors--it would be unfortunate if anyone came to the wrong conclusion."

She was certainly right about that. As she turned back, a sudden thought occurred to him.

"Wait a moment--" Benedict called out suddenly, his hand raised to stop her. But it was too late, she had already disappeared into the warm light of the ballroom. "--what's your name?" He asked to no one, sighing as he turned.

He wandered over and sat on the bench she had been on only moments before. Resting his palms on the cool stone and leaning back on his arms, he couldn't help but grin. He turned his face up to the moon, hoping to meet the curious young woman again soon.

---

Benedict eventually made his way inside, thinking more than enough time had past. As he walk through the ballroom, he searched the crowd. With her nowhere in sight, he accepted that she had already gone. With nothing else to keep his interest, he eventually wandered over to where his mother, Anthony, and Kate stood.

"And just where were you?" Violet asked, annoyance clear in her voice.

"We were quite sure you had run off," Anthony added, smirking. Benedict smiled, turning his face out to the dance floor.

"Not at all brother--I was simply enjoying the ball," he replied. Anthony and his mother shared a perplexed look, but Benedict didn't notice. His thoughts were otherwise occupied.

---

The young woman took the gloved hand that was offered as she carefully stepped into the opulent, golden carriage. She delicately adjusted her skirts as the queen looked her over.

"So Beatrice, tell me--did you enjoy the ball? Was it everything you had imagined?" The queen asked, amused.

"It was certainly different than what I had expected--but I did enjoy it very much," the young woman smiled, looking back at the queen, "Thank you for agreeing to bring me along, grandmama."

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x oc #heavy lies the heart #my writing #loversatthegreatdivide

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choicesficwriterscreations · 2 years ago

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SECOND CHANCES - CHAPTER TWENTY TWO: A BEAUTIFUL NIGHT

Book: Desire and Decorum – Modern AU Rating: G Word count: ~7K (huge, i know)

Summary: The weekend at Edgewater reserves many surprises to Elizabeth and her friends, and might turn out to be just what some of them need to speak up about their feelings...

Characters: Elizabeth Foredale (OC); Briar Daly; Edmund Marlcaster, Annabelle Parsons; Prince Hamid; Luke Harper; Dominique Foredale; Vincent Foredale; Mr. Sinclaire.

Notes: * All characters belong to Pixelberry, except OC. * I want to thank @princess-geek for being my beta in this chapter and her support to my writing. You're a treasure, my friend! 💝 * This is my awfully late submission to @choicesjanuarychallenge2022: Day 12. stairs

Smiling, Elizabeth sings along in the chorus of another pop song from the playlist she created with Briar and Annabelle, looking out of the window, the countryside slips by. Villages with ancient stone houses come into sight for a moment, disappearing in the next. The further they went North, the less traffic ahead. London has given space to greened hills that were now covered by the blanket of darkness. Though, even before the nightfall, the dark and heavy clouds hanging above barely let any sunlight through.

The weather forecast predicts rain for the weekend; however, this predicament did not reduce Elizabeth’s enthusiasm to see Edgewater, nor her friends’, who are looking forward to spending fun days together.

The car swivels to the left, taking a secondary road. Behind the wheel, Edmund Marlcaster relaxes. The closest red lights flicker many meters away and disappear after the curve. Adjusting the rear-view mirror, he takes a good look at Briar, who was doing a little dance.

“I love that song!” Briar chanted from the backseat.

When another pop song started playing on the radio, she and Elizabeth singalong, ignoring Edmund’s visible annoyance after he pleads to play something else.

“No,” they both reply in chorus, and laugh. However, despite the failed attempt to change the playlist, he smiles softly when his gaze meets Briar’s.

“How long till we get to Edgewater?” Briar asked, trying to keep his attention a moment longer.

“We’re halfway now.”

Elizabeth takes the mobile from her bag and checks the messages.

“Hamid says they are on their way,” Elizabeth announced, and her attention was absorbed by the mobile while she typed the response; meanwhile, Edmund’s eyes found Briar's again on the rear-view mirror. She offered him one of her most flirtatious smiles and a wink, causing him to flush bright red.

“So… Edmund, is your fiancée joining us?”

Edmund coughed a few times, and Elizabeth cast a side glance at him. Clearing his throat, he managed to find his voice.

“No, Theresa is staying at London during the break.”

Averting her eyes, Briar hummed to herself, and a smile curled her lips.

“Doesn’t she mind you going to Edgewater without her?”

“She has her own plans with –” Edmund paused, searching for the appropriate word to not speak ill about the vipers that are Felicity Holloway and Donna Bowman. “Friends. She’ll spend most of her time occupied helping Felicity with her party. By the way, Theresa mentioned your name was on the list, Eliza… Are you going to the party?”

“Absolutely not! I already RSVP’d my ‘no’.”

“Oh,” he sighed, without looking away from the road, “I was hoping you'd keep me company…”

“Sorry. I really need my Felicity free time.”

“I envy you!” he muttered.

“There will be plenty of people to keep you company… Even Hamid is going.”

“You’re letting him?” Briar howled her question from the backseat, startling the other two.

Turning around on her seat to face her, Elizabeth asked, “What do you mean I’m letting him? Briar, he’s a grown man who can go wherever he likes...”

Her words were received with a dramatic eye roll and a disapproving slowly shake of head.

“Unbelievable!”

“Hamid is thrilled to wear his zombie costume... and I’ll help with the makeup.”

“Have you ever heard about that party and what goes on there, Lizzy? There will be a throng of gorgeous girls on the pull and a geezer man like Hamid all by himself...” Briar trailed off, casting a knowing look at her friend. “You know what can happen, right?”

“Well... it’s up to him.”

“Won’t you mind if he meets someone?” Briar insisted, “What if he starts dating? What if he falls in love?”

Elizabeth swallowed the lump on her throat and looked outside. “What if he already did?”

“Oh, my God! Are you talking about yourself? Did he say he love you?”

“What? No; why would he?”

“Must I state the obvious?”

“We’re friends.”

“You’re more than that! You’re more like a real couple than some couples I know.” Briar scoffed, crossing her arms.

“Briar, please,” – Elizabeth turned around again, facing the passenger seat’s window – “I don’t feel like having that conversation again…”

“But, Lizzy, only the truth will set you free!” The seat belt snapped, pulling Briar back when she tried to lunge forward and approach Elizabeth. “You must acknowledge your feelings and speak up! You love him!”

Elizabeth’s head snapped back to face the other. The word love was definitely a stretch, but Briar has no parsimony in using that verb, especially when referring to her relationship with Hamid. Whenever she does, Elizabeth scowls in the most unladylike way imaginable. She does not love Hamid. How could she? They barely know each other. That’s not how this love thing works. Hamid is someone dear to her, someone she cares about and wants to have close. But love? No, she is not in love, but it’s futile to argue with someone who does not listen to reason.

“I beg you stop this nonsense once Hamid gets there,” Elizabeth said softly with pleading eyes, “I don’t want things getting awkward... He told me he likes someone and wanted –”

“What?” Briar cried, eyes open wide and eyebrows shooting up and disappearing underneath the black bangs; the car swivelled slightly with Edmund’s reaction to the high-pitched noise, and Briar apologised.

Even Edmund, who abstained himself from joining the conversation this far, looked gobsmacked. “He actually told you that, Eliza?”

“Yeah. Last time we met… He asked me advice on the matter… Why would he do that unless we are only friends?”

“That’s impossible!” Briar exclaimed, “What were his words exactly?”

Burying herself further into the seat, she rested her hands on her lap, and reminisced for a moment. “Suffice to say he asked me advice on how to talk to this woman, because he gets speechless around her.”

“Speechless? Hamid?” Briar snorted. “Are we talking about the same guy who never shuts up?”

Edmund cast a sideway glance at his stepsister. “This woman must be really extraordinary to leave someone as eloquent as Hamid tongue-tied.”

“Probably. And I’m not ready to hear about her. Or them. I need time to process this and whatever it means to our friendship... so please, let us all have a quiet weekend.”

“I cannot promise quiet. I cannot promise I won’t try to set you two up either. Or lock you in a room together. With only one bed and –”

“Briar!” Elizabeth squealed, and Edmund snorted with laughter.

“You are my friend, Lizzy. I will not lie to you.”

“Welcome to Edgewater,” Edmund announced when the manor comes unmistakably into sight after a curve, the façade illuminated by a soft yellow glow, and recited the same words one can read in the brochures about the estate. Elizabeth knows it is a show for Briar, however, her very own heart races at the sight.

“Quite impressive,” Briar sighs, nose a hairsbreadth to the window. “Can you imagine all the secret romances, intrigues and betrayals that have happened there over the years?”

Elizabeth and Edmund shared a knowing look. “Yes, we can.”

After crossing the gate, the car followed the path through a manicured lawn with statues illuminated by yellowish lights. Everything looks so quiet, but Elizabeth knows how deceiving that is. Similar to other manor’s this size, Edgewater has an army of employees working from dawn to dusk and beyond; and depending on who is staying at the house, gossip is served 24/7.

When they pulled over, members of the staff were already waiting. While one took their luggage, another guided the trio inside, where Lady Dominique waited to offer a proper welcome. No sign of the countess, despite the news she would be staying at the manor until the end of the following week. Maybe she was avoiding Elizabeth, and she would not complain if she did this the entire weekend.

“Where’s the wicked witch?” Briar whispered into Elizabeth’s ear, acknowledging the absence too.

Holding a chuckle, she forced a polite smile to greet her grandmother.

After the proper greetings, Lady Dominique asked about the rest of the party, and Elizabeth explained they were coming with Annabelle.

“Annabelle is such a talented young lady. Did she tell you how she used to come here often and play the piano for us?” Elizabeth nodded, and Lady Dominique smiled wistfully. “It will be delightful to have her here again.” After a pause, certainly reminiscing about her grandson Harry, the woman collected herself, and her gaze focused on the present.

“Now, you should go upstairs and get ready. Melinda is waiting for you, and I asked Joanne to assist Miss Daly. I will guarantee the others are welcomed and escorted to their respective rooms.”

With a polite smile, Elizabeth thanked her grandmother. Despite her disagreements, she admires the way she manages to run things at the house so smoothly. There is usually not a situation unforeseen. The moment she learned about the plans to the weekend, she was extremely zealous and helpful; even if Elizabeth suspects it is another attempt to earn her forgiveness after the incident with Felicity, she thanks her again for everything.

Accompanying the trio out of the parlour, Lady Dominique was amused by Briar’s wonder.

“This is all so fancy! It looks like a museum. But in a good way, of course.”

Lady Dominique expressed her gratitude, without hiding the pride in being the major responsible for the current decoration and pointed at some esteemed items. After speaking to one of the employees, Lady Dominique proceeded to tell them about the accommodations, and soon Elizabeth, Edmund and Briar were on their way to the stairs.

“I thought we were all staying together in one giant room, and have a big slumber party.”

“Maybe some other time.” Elizabeth smiled.

“Don’t ever expect Lady Dominique to allow single young ladies to share accommodations with male guests, unless they are in some sort of extremely official commitment,” Edmund explained, following her dangerously close upstairs, delighting on the sweet smell of her shampoo.

“I have a feeling my mother would get along well with Lady Dominique…” Briar snorted.

“Briar, your room is in the family wing, next to mine,” Elizabeth said when they reached the second floor. “Annabelle’s too.”

The news she would have a room for herself and a bathtub in the en-suite made Briar squeal, and both Edmund and Elizabeth were amused by her reaction.

When the door from Elizabeth’s room closed, Briar mused for a second, biting on her lower lip. Lingering by the door of the assigned room, she looked over her shoulder at Edmund who was debating with himself on what to do next.

“And where’s your room, Eddie?” Briar asked and her voice was barely above a whisper.

“Mine?” he gasped, then pointed at a door across the hallway.

“Good to know.”

“It is?”

“Of course.” Briar grinned. “I need to know where to find you to hold you to your word.” His eyebrows shoot up and almost disappeared beneath the ash blond hair. When there was only confusion in his eyes, she teased, “Your promise; or have you forgotten the reason you’ve invited me to Edgewater?”

“Lady Clara’s journal! Of course. I will definitely take you to the library… and we can look at the journals together… if you wish…”

“I expect you to fill me in all the gossip about Lizzy’s great-great-grandmother.”

“Absolutely.”

“Alright then. See you later.” With those words, she waved and closed the door. The man couldn’t hide his smile.

Elizabeth picked the mobile from the vanity and checked the messages. She could hardly wait to see her friends’ reaction to the surprise. Annabelle and Hamid have been present to the historical re-enactments at Edgewater, but Briar and Luke have never seen them personally. What would they think about being part of one? Judging by the pictures in the group chat and Pictagram, at least Briar was enjoying the look. There was no text from the others, which increased her fear that Hamid could be offended.

“Your hair is done, ma’am,” said the woman standing behind Elizabeth, observing her expectantly.

“Thank you, Melinda.” Elizabeth smiled at her reflection, her curly brown hair was deftly pulled up in a bun with braids at the top of the head. “It’s perfect,” she said softly at the woman.

“Can I assist you with anything else?”

“I’m fine,” Elizabeth said, and her words were the queue to Melinda collect and organize whatever was used to do the hair and were occupying almost every free space over the antique vanity. Quietly, the woman excused herself, leaving the young Viscountess alone in her room to finish getting ready for dinner.

After putting on the earrings and necklace, Elizabeth got up, smoothed the skirt of the dress, and took another look at her reflection, still debating on how she felt about the Empire-waisted ivory dress with a bodice with golden embroidery, puff sleeves, an embroidered fine sheer silk that covered the long skirt. An unexpected look even to someone used to gala dresses. Swaying in front of the mirror, the golden details sparkled under the light, projecting little diamond shapes in the floor, and she smiled.

The sound of someone knocking at the door rapid and strong, startled her. Her mind pictured the only person she wished would come knock on her door, and her heart accelerated at the thought. In the blink of an eye, her hand reached the doorknob. The sight of Briar standing in the hallway, was not what she desired. Though, the other was too overjoyed to notice the disappointment in her face.

“Lizzy, I’m never ever taking this off my body!” Her friend’s excitement could not be contained in her tiny body, and it overflowed in her eyes, smile, and voice. Like a ballerina, she twirled in her long purple and golden dress also with the same kind of high waistline and embroideries, black hair pulled up in an elaborated bun, with a few loose strands framing her smiling face.

Another door clicked open, and Annabelle came out in a long satin ruby red gown with a richly ornamented bodice. “Why are you being so loud?” she teased Briar, brandishing a mascara brush, “I almost poked my eye!”

“How are you not screaming, Ann?”

“I don’t know about you, but I can’t do my makeup while screaming…”

“Hush! I love this dress! And I love the corset! My spine has never been straighter and look!” – she exaggeratedly pointed both hands at her breasts – “I look like a C cup now!”

The others laughed, and Briar pulled them to a photo. After complimenting each other’s looks some more and a little demonstration from Elizabeth on how to hold the skirts to go down the stairs, the three were ready to make their appearance. However, footsteps coming from the other wing caused them to halt.

“And look who else has outdone himself,” Briar nudged Elizabeth, pointing at Hamid sporting the Ottoman attire Elizabeth had picked for him.

Bowing with an exaggerated flourish, Hamid addressed them in his most charming tone and flashed an equally charming grin, “Good evening, ladies!”

While Hamid kissed the hand Briar held out to him, she theatrically fanned herself with an invisible fan. However, quickly, Hamid’s gaze found Elizabeth’s, and she returned his smile, pleased to see his choice of outfit and no visible sign of annoyance.

“This outfit is amazing!” Annabelle said, and Hamid opened his arms to let her inspect the details in the golden embroideries in his long teal kaftan, that was an accurate reproduction like the dresses the trio was sporting. “Now I wish I could paint portraits of all of you!” she sighed disappointed.

“If our host allow us the use of futuristic technology, we could take pictures,” Hamid suggested looking at Elizabeth, who giggled.

“Pictures? Do tell us more about that...”

“A wonderful invention, my lady, that shall make painters jobless!”

Slipping out of character, Annabelle feigned offense, “I resent that, Hamid.”

After an effusive apology to the artist of the group, more banter ensued before the four huddled with Hamid in the middle. Following Briar’s directions, a few selfies were taken, and once Briar was satisfied, she posted the best two to Pictagram.

“Brilliant! And look at you!” Briar cried, turning the screen to Elizabeth’s face, “You look like those portraits at the museum!”

Embarrassed, Elizabeth blushed and looked away. “We all look lovely.”

Annabelle and Briar did not ignore the way Hamid contemplated the young Viscountess, studying her as if she were indeed a portrait from a Renaissance master; sharing knowing looks, they excuse themselves to find Luke downstairs, and deliberately left him alone with Elizabeth.

The man did not waste the opportunity and stepped closer. His intoxicating perfume filled the air around them, and in such proximity his eyes sparkled more than the silver medallion hanging from his neck or all the golden in his outfit.

“She is right,” Hamid whispered. Taking her hand, he kissed it unhurriedly, lingering on her knuckles while never tearing his gaze from her face. “Tonight, you look like you stepped out of a painting,” he explained still holding her hand, “The most exquisite masterpiece, I must add.”

Heat creeped up her neck, straight to her face, tinting her cheeks in a darker pink hue, and she wished he would not notice. However, judging by his grin, she could never dissimulate how he affects her.

Clearing her throat, Elizabeth changed the subject, “I see you picked the Ottoman attire.”

“How could I choose anything else? It is gorgeous, and it suits me to be a prince for the evening, don’t you think?” he asked, straightening his posture.

She nodded, averting her gaze. “I was afraid you could think it was offensive.”

“I figured by the two-page note where you apologised several times in case it was discriminatory or distasteful, and suggested I could wear that boring British suit, or my own suit or whatever I felt like… I must say this last part actually let me a bit confused about the dress code, and I considered coming in my pyjamas, but I don’t think my charm would be enough to prevent Lady Dominique from sending me immediately back to London …”

“Don’t mock me…”

“I would never. I was just remarking the comical aspects...” He smiled fondly and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I appreciate your concern. But you should not have worried so much. I know you, and your heart.”

“My heart?” she scoffed. If you knew my heart, you would never ask me advice about someone else! “Isn’t this a little presumptuous?”

He chuckled and pressed her hand against his chest, and she looked up at his face, his smile almost reaching his ears, dimpling his cheeks and crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I am not humble when it comes to my skills,” he said, and his words still carried the lilt of his laugh, “and you, Lady Elizabeth, have a heart of gold and only a fool would mistake your actions like that... And I am no fool, yes?”

Tilting his head, he gazed at her face. His heart drummed beneath her palm in a steady cadence. She could not resist staring at his shapely lips curled into a wide grin. For a second, she almost forgot herself and where they were; at least, until the indistinct sounds from the conversation Annabelle, Briar and Luke were engrossed at the ground floor reached her ears.

“Hamid,” she breathed his name.

“People expect us… May I escort you downstairs, my lady?”

She acquiesced, and he placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. In that moment, she was no longer Elizabeth, but the protagonist of a period drama, and Hamid was the charming love interest, who could inspire anyone to defy the entire society for their love.

“According to your note, my outfit was inspired by one that belonged to the Imperial prince who married the countess. What about your stunning dress? Was it by any chance inspired by one of hers?”

“Yes!” she replied, excited at the chance of talking about the subject. “Actually, mine and Briar's were inspired by her outfits. This one was modelled after one of Countess Clara's portraits. It’s said it was a gift from her father, and the one chosen when she presented herself before Queen Charlotte for the first time. Lady Grandmother showed me this reproduction of a note that a London newspaper wrote about her elegance at the time. They praised her as the most beautiful debutante in the Season.”

“I can imagine. And you are doing justice to her elegance, Lady Elizabeth, and dare I say, you outshined her beauty.”

“Have you even seen her portraits?”

“I don’t have to,” he said in a serious tone, and gazed with adoration. Elizabeth’s heart threatened to escape, pounding against its cage with unprecedent impetus.

When they reached the ground floor, despite the indiscrete stares of their friends, he kissed her hand again.

“Thank you for allowing me the pleasure of your company, Lady Elizabeth. Or should I call you Lady Clara for the evening?”

“If it is important to your commitment to your character, you can. And perhaps I will call you Your Highness for the rest of the evening as well.”

“Nothing would please me more, my lady,” he said in the most pompous tone he could impersonate and enveloped her hand with both of his, his thumb gently drawing circles in her skin. “Now, since we are impersonating them, does this mean I get to escort you the whole evening?” he asked inching closer. The intensity of his gaze burned her skin, but she did not avert her gaze this time, and her lips parted to answer.

However, instead of Elizabeth, it was someone behind them who replied.

“Actually, according to proper etiquette, if you were a true Regency couple you would spend most of the evening apart, focusing your attention on the enjoyment of your guests,” Lady Dominique said in her grave voice.

“How does she do that?” Briar mouthed to Annabelle, uttering the surprise etched in her and Luke’s faces watching the elderly woman approach them barely making a sound. Annabelle shrugged, then offered a warm smile at the elderly woman, who patted her arm fondly.

“However, this evening Lady Elizabeth will be hosting us, and a much less formal setting has been chosen. One more suitable for a night amongst friends in the twenty-first century.”

The elderly woman’s fingers encircled the delicate pendant hanging from Elizabeth’s necklace and she simply smiled. The gesture probably a pretence to address her granddaughter.

“You look absolutely stunning, my dear. You would make this house proud in any century.”

Elizabeth thanked her and returned the smile.

“And you look extraordinarily elegant, Lady Dominique.” Hamid bowed and kissed her hand, and she thanked him, taking the opportunity to contemplate everyone dressed in Regency Era fashion.

“Don’t you all look lovely?” she said. “However, I believe the foyer is not the place any of us was supposed to be right now.”

“Of course. Follow me,” Elizabeth said, leading the group to the drawing room.

When Elizabeth entered the room, her jaw almost fell. Sitting with her father was Mr. Sinclaire. Both dressed in contemporary suits and engaged in a serious conversation that had creased their brows. Seeing the group, her father grinned, stood up and walked in their direction; Mr. Sinclaire followed him close, hands behind his back and uneasiness in his eyes.

“Welcome to Edgewater. We are content to host Eliza’s friends this weekend. I hope you all have a pleasant stay.”

Her father kissed her cheek, and she hugged his waist with one arm. Leaning closer, he spoke softly, “I am awfully sorry, my dear, for not wearing the ensemble. You know how thrilled with the idea I was, but our meeting got delayed…”

“I understand, dad.”

“I hope you don’t mind the intrusion, Miss Foredale, but your father extended me an invitation.”

“I do not mind at all, Mr. Sinclaire. You’re a friend of the family and you’re always welcome at Edgewater.”

Mr. Sinclaire bowed, and a hint of a smile curled his lips.

Working with him this past month and having his company at events was important to get to know him a little better. They have become friendlier, but not exactly friends. Either way, it’s a remarkable progress considering how reserved Mr. Sinclaire is, and they feel less awkward around the other.

Earl Vincent excused himself to make rounds, leaving Elizabeth and Mr. Sinclaire alone. Somehow, Briar and Edmund managed to sit together at the furthest corner possible and whatever they were talking about was more appealing than anyone or anything else, including the food.

Holding a tray with hors d’oeuvres, a member of the staff dressed in a uniform that resembled the ones used in the manor in the 1800s approached Elizabeth and Mr. Sinclaire, who picked one tartlet.

“Was that the secret meeting?” she asked Mr. Sinclaire who had taken a nibble at the tartlet.

“I never said it was secret,” he replied. “The client requested discretion and I complied. Like we ought to.”

“I am your assistant and the client’s daughter.”

“Therefore, I assume you will not feel discouraged to ask your father details about the meeting.”

Elizabeth cast a sideway glance at the man; he is smirking, knowing she won’t interrogate her father about any subject they discussed.

“Maybe I will...”

Ending their conversation, she waltzed to where her friends were engrossed in an animated conversation with her father, standing close to Luke.

“This is amazing. I lack the talent to play any instrument, however I can still appreciate –” Earl Vincent interrupts himself when Elizabeth approaches the group. “Eliza, did you know your friend can play the violin?”

“Yes, father, I am aware.”

“If only we still had one... Luke could delight us with a performance.”

Elizabeth glanced at Luke, eager to apologise for any annoyance in advance, but he offered a content smile to her and her father.

“It would be my pleasure, sir.”

The Earl of Edgewater smiled fondly, certainly delighted with the breath of fresh air the lively group brought to the manor.

“We may not have a violin; however, we have a piano that has been neglected these past several months and dearly misses to be played.”

Understanding the hint, Annabelle laughed. “Why, we cannot have that, can we, sir? Perhaps I should play it later.”

“You read my mind, my dear,” Earl Vincent joked, earning a few chuckles from Hamid. “And to make the night absolutely perfect, perhaps Eliza could join you for a duet...”

Elizabeth visibly cringed and tried to disguise it by taking the glass of wine to her lips.

Annabelle sought to sort that out with the Earl and Lady Dominique, both already excited with the prospect of a soirée overflowing with music and laugh, and suggesting songs for the repertory.

“I will have someone bring the songbooks.”

“Did you hear that?” Elizabeth asked. “We’re been summoned to dinner.”

“I did not hear a thing.” Lady Dominique looked at the doorway where someone from the staff was supposed to ring the bells like it used to be done in the past. “Are you certain?”

“Absolutely.”

“I heard it too,” Hamid avowed. “My mouth already waters in anticipation of the delicacies the cook has chosen to surprise us, my lady.”

“Indeed, I believe it will not disappoint. The menu is suitable for a special evening, Mr. Osmanoğlu.”

Hamid placed a hand on Elizabeth’s back, and she breathed relieved watching Lady Dominique inviting the group to place their mobiles in a wooden box before going to the dining room.

“Thanks.”

“Will you allow me the pleasure to escort the most beautiful heiress to the dining room?”

“Well, you’ll have to ask her yourself...” Elizabeth joked, and Hamid nudged her side.

“I am asking her!”

Smiling shyly, she offered her hand, which he promptly placed in the crook of his elbow, and they handed their mobiles to be stored before walking together to the dining room. From the corridor, they still could overhear Briar’s opposing the idea.

“What if we want to take photos?”

“The meals are made to be enjoyed, not photographed,” Lady Dominique insisted, and Briar hesitated. “You will have your mobile back after dinner.”

The two giggled, and Hamid leaned to speak closer to Elizabeth.

“Will you really deny us the joy to hear you play?”

“I do not perform in public anymore.”

“Public?” he asked with an offended pout. “We’re your friends. And fans.”

“Fans? None of you ever saw me perform.”

“Are you sure about that?” he teased, “I know people too.”

“You wouldn’t...”

“You went after my childhood pictures… maybe I have videos of your recitals, Miss Foredale.”

“Correction. Your sisters came to my DMs. Then two of your cousins. And your aunt. It would be rude to tell them not to send your pictures and videos.”

“Videos? Which videos?”

“Which ones do you not want me to see?”

“You’re bluffing...” He narrowed his eyes at her.

“Maybe... or maybe not.” Elizabeth giggled and pulled him. “Now, come. We must find our seats...”

The illumination of the immense room had been dimmed, and flameless led candles created an intimate atmosphere at the long wooden table covered with a white tablecloth where elegant dining utensils were neatly arranged to accommodate the party. Beautiful floral arrangements made the dining room look even more beautiful than she remembered.

Elizabeth’s lips curled into a wide smile. “Isn’t it beautiful?” she uttered the words with sheer amazement.

“Stunningly beautiful,” he replied, eyes fixed on her face, and she pretended not understanding what he implied.

Chatter increased around them, when everyone was gathered at the room, and Briar still lamented parting from her mobile.

Gentlemanly, the Earl helped Lady Dominique, then occupied the seat at the head of the table. His daughter’s name was written in a beautiful cursive font on the card on his other side. Due to the countess still unexplained absence and to accommodate Mr. Sinclaire, the sitting chart had been reorganized. For instance, Elizabeth noticed how Hamid's name had been moved from the place beside her to give room to Mr. Sinclaire. Considering it was a small gathering and people would still be able to enjoy themselves despite the minor changes, she held her tongue. Whatever else were her grandmother’s intentions behind the new arranges, she wouldn’t let it get under her skin.

“I suppose we part here,” Hamid said with a smile, oblivious to the changes, and pulled the chair to help Elizabeth sit, a gesture that earned teasing remarks from their friends. “But our conversation is not over,” he whispered so only she could hear and moved to the other side, to take his seat beside Annabelle.

While enjoying the delicious courses and the conversations – which navigated from political topics and the latest news to art and even a little bit of gossip to Briar’s utter pleasure –, Elizabeth and Hamid stole glances at each other from time to time, like true characters of a Regency novel. Both smiling at the wordless jokes exchanged in their meaningful looks, anticipating what the other might say.

To everyone’s amusement, Hamid delighted them with the many stories of his travels and funny diplomatic incidents. Even Mr. Sinclaire chuckled at the retell of one of his gaffes at Russia.

“Why did no one warn you?” Luke asked, wiping a tear escaping from his eye, after all the laughing.

“Who knows?” Hamid's shoulders raised almost touching his ears and he grinned. “However, afterwards the Minister bent over laughing. Actually, he cackled. Loudly. Many people never saw him smile before that evening!”

The presents laughed almost as much as the Russian Minister from the tale, only stopping when a new course arrived. Desserts were served after the fourth course, and then it was time to return to the drawing room. It didn’t take long until the first plea to Annabelle play be heard, and she obliged after finishing the brandy in her glass.

Standing beside Edmund, who smiled against the scotch tumbler while admiring Briar dancing in Hamid’s company, Elizabeth also observed the pair. Her mind, however, was on a complete opposite setting from her step-brother’s.

“Can I ask you a question?” Elizabeth’s soft voice broke the spell, and her step-brother’s gaze teared from the couple dancing. “How can one know if a flirty guy is flirting with you because he likes you, or if he’s just charming you like he does to anyone else?”

Edmund’s eyes squinted in thought before addressing her. “Is this you asking romantic advice from me? In a room where every single person is more qualified than myself?” She nodded and he downed the remaining of the liquid in the tumbler in one gulp. “Why don’t you ask the guy?”

“I’m not doing that.”

“Then the only other option is mind reading, and I cannot help with that.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m serious!”

“Are you talking about him?” Edmund tilted his head to the spot Hamid was having a blast following Briar’s directions to what seemed some sort of ballroom dance probably inspired by one of the scenes from the 2005 version of Pride & Prejudice. “I am no expert, but... when he flirts, does he look at anyone else the way he looks at you?”

Elizabeth's head jerked up and she stared at him. “What do you mean? How does he look at me?”

“If you have to ask, I believe you haven’t been paying enough attention...”

Silently, she observed Hamid and Briar. Edmund smiled when the man’s gaze found Elizabeth and his grin widened, confirming what he suspects.

“I’ll get another drink. Do you want one, Eliza?”

“No, thank you,” she said and returned to the settee where Luke was enjoying the music by himself.

When the second song was over, Briar and Hamid finished their impromptu waltz in a fit of giggles; and Lady Dominique suggested, “Elizabeth, my dear, you should join Annabelle and delight us with your angelic voice.”

The attention focused on the young woman.

“I don’t know...” she said wringing her hands. “It is awfully late, and we have plenty planned for tomorrow...”

“It’s not even midnight!” her father remarked. “I believe your friends wouldn’t mind losing a bit of sleep in exchange of listening to you. I know I wouldn’t.”

“I second that,” Hamid said, joining the chorus who begged her to play.

“Play with me!” Annabelle invited, patting the empty space beside her with the most impressive performance of the puppy eyes to this day. “Please! It’ll be fun!”

Briar plopped beside her, “You better accept it already, Lizzy! We can be very persuasive.”

“You mean terribly insistent?”

“No, I do not. And Edmund said you loved playing.”

“Loved. Past tense.”

“Seriously, what’s the worst that could happen if you’d give it a try, Liz?” Luke asked and she considered which would be the worst possible scenarios.

Disappointing her father would be almost impossible at this point. If she sits right in the bench and not falls off, he’ll possibly cheer her for that. Another possibility is embarrassing herself in front of Mr. Sinclaire. Though, he wouldn’t be her boss for long, and whatever critics about her skills couldn’t possibly be worse than her own judgement.

As if listening to her thoughts, Luke added, “Even if you make mistakes, your audience is maybe a little too tipsy to notice…”

Besides being the only sober and able to discern if she sucked at the piano, Hamid was too kind to criticise her and would certainly find something positive to say about her horrible performance.

With a resigned sigh, she got up and marched to the piano, sitting with Annabelle.

“We need an easy one… I’m a little rusty,” Elizabeth confided.

Amongst giggles and whispered words, the two went through the songbooks Lady Dominique had someone bring earlier. Finally, they picked a music to play together: Pachelbel’s “Canon in D major” to help Elizabeth warm up. Frustrated, she puffed whenever her fingers slipped and missed a key or she messed with the tempo.

“Don’t overthink,” Annabelle reassured her, “You’re doing fine.”

Next, Annabelle picked a Broadway songbook, one of Lady Dominique’s favourites, and they perused the sheets and deliberated about the songs.

“Seasons of Love”?

“I don’t know that one…”

Briar approached the piano and whispered a little too loud, “Beauty and the Beast”. Her suggestion was accepted, and both played and sang the lyrics to everyone utter enjoyment.

Their third song was “I dreamed a dream”. More confident, Elizabeth sang, while Annabelle played. Her angelic voice filled the room, who went completely silent. All eyes on her. Overjoyed, Earl Vincent stood up and clapped when they finished, and she could swear a tear escaped his eye.

Lastly, it was an improvised version of “Make you feel my love” to keep the Glee vibe and prompted Briar to stand closer to the piano and sing every word with them, despite being off key. At that point, Elizabeth couldn’t even remember why she was so worried about playing for them. Forty minutes after she sat at the bench, she was breathless and thirsty, but smiling. Annabelle didn’t miss the glint in her eyes.

“It wasn’t that dreadful, was it?” she asked with a knowing smirk.

Elizabeth snorted with laughter and said, “Who knew not playing to impress a lot of stiff nobles could be this fun?”

“Me! And I have been telling you this the entire time!” Annabelle nudged Elizabeth’s rib playfully, who giggled.

“Even if it had been dreadful,” Elizabeth said in an even lower tone, “seeing that look on his face would have been worth the trouble...”

Annabelle glanced at the spot the other was staring at and saw the Earl. His smile glowing with a mix of joy and pride.

“I haven’t seen him this happy in years,” Annabelle remarked, and Elizabeth’s eyes lingered on him. Unable to forget his earlier troubled expression and the meeting with Sinclaire, she wondered if he was truly happy or hiding something from her.

Noticing the attention of the young ladies on him, Earl Vincent smiled. “Are the artists still taking requests?”

“From you, sir, always,” Annabelle replied. “But first the artists need a break and refreshments.”

The two moved away from the piano, and Annabelle whispered, “I thought you decided to play for a different reason…”

“What do you mean?”

With a meaningful look, she signalled at Hamid, who was sitting with Mr. Sinclaire, but his gaze would often search Elizabeth. “I saw him begging you to play…” Annabelle said in a conspiratorial tone, while pouring water into two glasses.

“He encouraged me, of course, and so did Luke and Briar, but…” Elizabeth picked one of the glasses and stared at it for a moment. “That was not the reason why I played… I… I did it for myself. I haven’t played like this in so long… because I disliked what it meant: being the centre of attention, having people singling me out, judging me… and I forgot how music is something I truly love… my mom’s gift to me… and I should not let anyone stop me from enjoying it...”

“I’m truly happy you remembered that.” Annabelle raised her glass and they clincked.

“Thanks for helping me.”

Annabelle’s free arm pulled her to a hug.

After complimenting the pair for their performance, Lady Dominique retired to her room. Instead of following her example, the five friends decided it was time to join around the piano to sing improvised versions of old and new hits from the charts, butchering them in the most terrible and democratic fashion; however, no one complained. Not even Mr. Sinclaire, who cradled a whiskey tumbler, sitting in an armchair in one corner of the room with Edmund. The man smiled when Earl Vincent succumbed to the appeals and joined them for an extremely off key version of “Satisfaction”.

Later that same night

Elizabeth had changed to her pyjamas and was brushing her teeth when one sharp knock on the door interrupted the rituals before bed.

Again, her heart betrays her, wishing Hamid was on the other side. An idea that both excites and terrifies her. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him like that? Especially now that there might be someone else in his life?

Once more, when she opens the door, wearing a black jumper and leggings instead of a dress is Briar. This time, she is not smiling either. The tip of her bright pink fluffy slipper scuffs the carpet in the hallway, while her lips turn into an exaggerated pout.

“I know it is late, but can we talk for a minute?”

Elizabeth nodded and ushered her inside.

“Did something happen?”

Briar plopped on the bed and sighed.

“Has your heart ever betrayed you, Lizzy?”

“What do you mean?”

“Arthur is the sweetest man I’ve ever met. He never ghosts me and texts every single day… He actually planted the flowers of that bouquet he gave me!”

“That’s lovely!” Elizabeth remarked, without knowing exactly where this conversation is going.

“It is… He would be the most perfect boyfriend; someone I could introduce to my mum… maybe even plan a future with…”

“That’s something good, right? May I ask why you look so upset?”

“Because my heart is bloody stupid! Or my cupid is testing me!” she growled, “I cannot stop thinking about someone else. Some stupid random mate I met. Well, he is not actually stupid. Or random. The other mate is quite dreamy too. A bit awkward. And nerdy. But we have meaningful conversations. And I think he sees me. Really sees me, you know?”

A knot settled on Elizabeth’s stomach when realisation dawned upon her. She knew exactly who this was about. Taking a deep breath, she asked the question that was merely rhetorical, “You are talking about Edmund, right?”

Briar growled again and let her body fall back. “He is not free to date me. I should be running the other way. But I don’t want to…” Her stare fixes at the ceiling and Elizabeth sits beside her, patting her arm.

“I thought it was just harmless flirtation… like you said…”

“I thought so too…” Briar’s hands covered her face, and what Elizabeth assumes is a string of curse words is muffled by her palms.

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed… I guess we don’t choose who we become fond of…”

“This is all so… Complicated... Once, he called me by mistake. At least that’s what he said… but he stuttered, you know, in that way the words tumble over when he cannot say what he means…” Elizabeth nodded, and she continued, “But I didn’t mind. Even if it was a little lie and he was not going to admit he wished to talk to me… I just asked him about his day. And we spent an hour talking about nothing and everything… we just talked. He’d call me every now and then ever since that evening… And now we don’t know what to do with these feelings.”

“We?”

“That engagement means nothing to him…”

“He told you that?”

“He’s not happy.”

“But he’s still engaged. And knowing Henrietta… well… she would never approve him breaking up the engagement unless the woman was wealthier and had better connections –”

“He’s an adult, Lizzy. He can make his own choices,” Briar’s words were firm, no sign of the usual warmth and sweetness, and Elizabeth suspected it was herself who needed to hear that, to believe in that.

Lying down, Elizabeth held her hand and offered an encouraging smile.

“Can I do anything to make you feel better?”

“You did. I just needed to talk to someone…” Briar smiled. “But I wouldn’t mind some distraction... maybe you can tell me nasty things about his fiancée, so I won’t feel like a terrible person...”

“You probably already know more about her than I do... And you’re not a terrible person.”

After a few moments of silence, Elizabeth peeked at Briar, eyes open wide and unusual pensiveness creasing her forehead.

“The answer is yes. My heart betrayed me too.”

“Are you admitting you love Hamid?”

“I do not love him. But I kinda like him. And I can’t stop thinking about him. And maybe I want to be with him. If he wants to be with me of course and not –”

“Ohmygod!” Briar squealed and threw herself at Elizabeth. “Finally!”

#cfwc writers pick top 3 #missameliep #desire and decorum #d&d f!oc #briar daly #choices fic writers creations #2022

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