#princes Hamid x mc

[missameliep]

Title: Once Upon a Summer - Part 1

Book: Desire & Decorum AU

Pairing: Prince Hamid x Elizabeth Foredale (OC)

Rating: Teen

Word count: ~2k

Summary: Once upon a summertime, eleven-year-old Elizabeth befriended a boy at a beach. Returning to England in a rush, she didn't even say goodbye to her friend Hamid, and had little hope to ever see him again. What would happen if fate brought them together four years later? This is how their story goes...

A/N: No warnings. Just fluff and teenage shenanigans. To make the story make sense, it's settled in the early 2000's, before social media, the era flip phones were it, the epitome of modernity and style! There will be alterning POV from Hamid to Elizabeth, and so on. Enjoy part 1 of this very silly and self-indulgent fic!

September, 2005. 

Every new year was the same, for an entire week the school was vibrant and full of life. The whole days dedicated to recitals, art expositions and workshops, plays and drama reading, and so much more to welcome old and new students to the building that would basically be their second home from September to July.  

This afternoon, the school’s sport court was brimming with new students and seniors of all ages, sporting their impeccable uniforms and polished black shoes. The last rays of summer shining on hair and skins and in the happy memories of vacations that are the main topics of conversations these past days. In the imminence of the beginning of the exhibition match, the basketball court was all noisy chatter and excitement, with lines of players in jerseys, echoes of the bouncing balls on the polished wooden floor, squeaking sneakers and swishing of balls down the rims.  

Like in the savannah, it was easy to spot the new arrivals, with their awed and terrified looks, like lion cubs, and those who were comfortable in their natural environment. More than any other student, the players were naturals. The kings of this court, one could say, and the ones who attracted most of the attention, especially the ones starting their senior year.  

Sporting his jersey with unmatching pride and the widest grin, Year 11-student Hamid, one of the most enthusiastic amongst his teammates for being chosen to play for the main team. Surrounded by a group of female students willing to hear about his latest travels and maybe even catch the attention of one of the team stars, he couldn’t be more thrilled. Or so he thought... 

This was the best time of the year: no classes nor tests, no mandatory readings nor assignments, and a lot of time to do what he loves the most: socialize! Hamid loved this week with his whole heart and wished it could last longer. However, if everything must come to an end, the best way is to end on a high note, isn’t it? And in Hamid’s humble opinion, the last day is always the best. Not only it was entirely dedicated to sports, which was one of his passions and gave him the chance to demonstrate his aptitude in a variety of activities, but afterwards there will be a ball with music, dance, and girls eager for the attention of the athletes.  

Amusing some of his teammates and a group of girls, Hamid was in the middle of telling a story, when someone knocked over a heavy object near the entrance. Hamid’s eyes flicked to where the noise came from and to the influx of another group of students coming inside to fill the stands, amongst them a very beautiful girl he’s never seen in school and instantly caught his eye.  

Turquoise backpack hanging on one shoulder, she moved slowly, long curly hair bouncing around her face. A chocolate brown hair peppered with gold that seemed like the sun itself had kissed it, or maybe had just been following her for the dramatic purpose of stealing teenage boy’s breaths away. Whatever it was, her beauty was so enthralling he couldn’t look away, appreciating the long hair that reached the middle of her back, shapely lips shining with lip gloss and bright eyes. If this was one of the rom-coms his sisters love, the sound of chatter and basketballs dribbling would’ve been muted, and a bubbly pop song would play in the background while the girl glided in slow motion; when the camera focused on him to do a closeup, he’d be looking dazzled, mouth slightly parted while trying to catch his breath – which he was, having completely lost the train of thought mid-word. Nevertheless, no camera could ever capture the way his heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. 

“So, what happened then?” Theresa Sutton’s question ringed after what seemed like a dramatic pause in the narrative but turned into a play’s intermission. “Did his father notice you two were gone?”  

Stunned, Hamid blinked a few times and telling the rest of the story seemed less relevant now that he had a new goal. Offering a wide grin, he clapped his hands, “Well, this will have to wait. Now I have someplace else to go. And a record to beat!” 

“That’s cruel, Hamid,” Donna Bowman protested with a pout, but it didn’t deter him.  

Bending, he picked up the ball at his feet, never tearing his gaze from the beautiful girl, and sprinted towards Yusuf Konevi, his dearest and oldest friend at England, who was doing warm-ups with some of their teammates. She was glancing everywhere from the benches at the side of the court to the stands, possibly searching for someone, and not once looked his way. Thank goodness, he was confident enough to not let this hurt his pride, and persistent enough to change that game. 

Throwing an arm over Yusuf’s shoulder, he threw himself at him in a playful way.  

“Hey!” 

“Glad to see our star is finally joining us!” 

“We’re all stars here,” Hamid said, flashing a grin, “we shine brighter together.” 

The other laughed. “Smooth. I bet they’ll make you team captain soon.”  

Looking over his shoulder Hamid located his target, standing alone by the stands, and asked in a conspiratorial tone, “Who’s that girl? I haven’t seen her before...”  

“Which one?” the other asked before discreetly peeking at the direction he tilted his head.  

“The one who looks like an angel recently fallen from heaven…” 

Yusuf gasped with laughter. How very Hamid of him to be throwing around corny lines about girls right before a game, instead of warming up. Glancing at his friend before taking another look, he surveyed the faces and there was only one amongst them Hamid possibly didn’t know and fit his type, which he assumes is beautiful long-haired girl in any height, weight, body type, or ethnicity. 

“Do you mean Elizabeth Foredale? The one with the turquoise backpack? She was transferred.” 

Hamid smiled and repeated her name slowly, savouring every letter like honey in his tongue. 

“Foredale…” he repeated her last name once more and hummed. “Why does this name sound familiar?” 

“She’s the daughter of the Earl of Edgewater. You certainly heard about them.” 

He definitely did. The House of Edgewater is one of the oldest and most traditional amongst the British nobility, close in relationship with the Royal Family, and everything in this county is somehow related to them. And he is almost certain the Earl was one of the stuffy British men with whom his father had meetings to negotiate some sort of treaty when he was ambassador at England. 

“Is she single?” 

Yusuf clapped his shoulder and grinned, “I have a feeling you’ll soon find out.” 

Thinking about the best way to catch her attention, Hamid bounced the ball once, then twice, and smiled. Dribbling, he darted to the middle of the court, standing right at Elizabeth’s line of sight. Making flourished moves with the ball before dribbling towards the three-point line, he stepped back, flexed his knees, and shot. Without touching the backboard or the rim, the ball swished smoothly, and his face split into an ear-to-ear grin at the cheers. When he looked at the stands, the girl had her eyes fixed on her mobile oblivious to his demonstration. But this wasn’t nearly enough to discourage him.   

Someone clapped him on the back, congratulating him, and from his place by the benches, the coach waved him and the others to assemble. 

When the game begins, I’ll get her attention for sure, he hypes himself on his way to join his fellow teammates.  

And this is his best match so far, scoring and assisting in almost all the key plays. The coach is pleased to see him this motivated, and he is pleased that Elizabeth’s eyes followed him. Not the plays. Not the ball. Him.  

During halftime, he takes off his jersey, exhibiting his lean muscles and warm tanned brown skin from days sunbathing at beaches at the Türk Rivierası, and swigs a bottle of water. One of his classmates throws him a towel, and he thanks him. 

At the stands beside the team’s bench, giggles and whispers erupt, but when his gaze searches for Elizabeth, like it did so many times this afternoon, the girl is sitting by herself reading a book. A large one. He can’t read the name in the cover, but how much more interesting than the game and players can it be? He was very close to take that snub personally.   

At the other team’s bench, Yusuf throws him an amused look and teases him. Hamid shrugs and doesn’t let it affect his good spirits.   

When the match is over, her eyes are not on the book, but on him. Pleased by the attention, he rakes his sweaty hair back and flashes his best smile in her direction. Like others at the stands, she’s clapping. In an instant, he’s surrounded by teammates and classmates congratulating the team, cheering and chanting they’ll beat their rival this year for sure.

While he’s approached by Donna Bowman and her friends, he gets a glimpse of Elizabeth walking down the stairs and going straight to the exit. By the doors, she halts, sparing a lingering last glance at the court over her shoulder, one he desperately wishes to be directed to him. 

The best he could do was play it cool, wait until later, and maybe meet her at the dance. Or even cooler, waiting until classes start next week. But that look has him sprinting out of the basketball court with a silly excuse to not immediately hit the showers.

His sneakers squeak while he runs down the hallways, deflecting students and congratulations.  

Down a long corridor, he gets a glimpse of her outside. When he catches up, she’s sitting at a bench, book opened on her lap.  

Breathless, he halts a few feet away from her, fixes his sweaty dishevelled hair with a hand, takes a deep breath and a glance at the book from over her shoulder.  

The panting catches her attention, and she glances at him over her shoulder, meeting his gaze. There’s no hint of surprise in her eyes as if she expected him to come. 

“Interesting reading?” 

She bites her lower lip, and nods.  

“Very much.” 

Placing a cat-shaped bookmark between the pages, she smiles and closes the book. 

Hamid takes both as good signs, and peeks at the cover. “Lord of the Rings. Is it any good?” 

“You already asked me that,” she giggled. 

“Cut me some slack, with all the running, my brain is lacking oxygen…” he laughs, and she tries to stifle a chuckle but her laughter escapes in huffs through her nose. Hamid’s heartbeats quicken at the sight of her smile and the visible blush on her cheeks, the bronzed skin has a lovely pinkish hue, and, in this light, he notices her green eyes have gold flecks. 

Pointing at the empty space beside her, she suggests, “Why don’t you sit down before the team loses his star player, Hamid?” 

His smile turned into an ear-to-ear grin when he flopped beside her.  

“So, you were paying attention! I knew the book couldn’t be more interesting than the match!”  

“Hardly. It was a mere exhibition. And I prefer football, anyway. But you played well…”  

“Well?” He faked being wounded by her words. “I was on fire today!” 

“Oh! That would explain all the shouting from your fans... are you well?” 

Snorting with laughter, he gnaws at his lower lip, amused by the quip. 

“Unwounded. Except for my ego,” he replied, and grinned. “I’m on the football team too, and we’ll have a match in two weeks. You should come and watch me play.” 

Chuckling, she shook her head slowly, and looked away at students crossing the gardens towards nearby buildings. She was smiling to herself, and her fingers fidgeted with the bookmark. That shyness pleases him in an unexpected way.  

Trying to meet her gaze, he extended his hand for a shake, “Where are my manners? Welcome to Moorfield School. I’m Hamid Osmanoğlu. Year 11. Basketball and football team. Last year’s class president. Delighted to meet you –” His hand lingered in the space between them, waiting for her to take it and say her name.  

Instead of the expected handshake, her eyes darted to his face, and she gaped. There was too much confusion in her expression that he joked, “Haven’t you done this before? Because that’s when you say your name... Saying something about yourself is optional, but always appreciated.” 

“You don’t remember me,” she stated a little bit offended, and it surprised him. 

“Have we met before? Because I certainly wouldn’t forget a gorgeous face like yours...” 

Shoving the book inside the backpack, she got up. “I’ll let you figure that out then.”

“Will I see you again?”

“We go to the same school...” she replied without turning around. 

While she walked away, Hamid observed. He was even more intrigued by Elizabeth now.  

[missameliep]

I love your WIPs! You've got Hamid and Daphne speaking about his family and I always love learning more about his background. You treat this story with so much care, there's always so much research and thought on every detail! I'm really excited to read more.

And Hana and Jade are not on good terms? I'm so curious now to know what happened! I really need to catch up with your TRR fics. There's so many great stories to read.

Thanks for sharing your WIPs! ☺️

WIP Wednesday

(It almost Thursday where I live but who cares about dates, right? 😂)

Looking at me slowing removing the dust from my WIP folder lol. Here are a few WIPs I've been working on lately:

1. Closer [working title] | Prince Hamid X MC (Daphne Wang) - Desire & Decorum Modern Day AU

"So you have family in Europe too!"

"I do. My whole family was exiled after World War One. My grandfather grew up here in the US, but most part of the family lived in Europe. He was visiting one of his cousins in London when he met my grandmother. She was a History teacher and she was fascinated by all his stories about the sultanate and the janissary."

"She wasn't wrong. It does sound fascinating. But why was your family exiled after the war?"

"It's what usually happens to royal families when monarchy is abolished. That is to say, when they get a chance to flee the country before being executed."

Daphne stared wide eyed at him.

"If they stayed, I probably wouldn't be sitting here having tea and baked goods with you."

"Oh..." she mumbled in realisation. "You really are a descendant from the Ottoman sultans."

"I am."

"You could've been a sultan!"

"I'd be a prince, actually. My father is very much alive, thankfully."

2. Mending Fences | Hana Lee, MC (Jade Bourbon)

By the time Jade walked into the room, everyone minus Liam were already there on their seats. Leo, Juliet and Drake seemed engaged into an deep conversation, while Maxwell and Hana had a small talk with the other ladies.

All of them acknowledged her presence with her polite smiles and wishing her good morning, except for three people. Madeleine, of course, just seized her from head to toe, probably disappointed the future queen wasn't poorly dressed as she expected. Drake glared at her for a brief moment then returned to their conversation. Hana's reaction, however, was different from anyone else's. Despite not saying anything, the sorrow in her eyes spoke volumes. Perhaps, it was about time for Jade to take the first step ans start mending fences.

Tagging @jerzwriter @lilyoffandoms @missameliep @noesapphic @thosehallowedhalls and anyone else who wants to share snippets of WIPs

[storyofmychoices]

Shadows and Deceptions: A Royal Murder Mystery (Masterlist)

In the heart of Cordonia's grand ballroom, an eclectic cast of characters gathers, their lives interwoven as a result of a shocking turn of events. Trystan Thorne, the exiled prince with a taste for mystery, Olivia Nevrakis, the snarky Duchess skilled with daggers, Tyril Starfury, the noble elf Lord a defender of the realm, Amalas, the enigmatic spy queen, and Prince Hamid, the charming and formal imperial prince. Amidst the grand party of the birth of King Liam's third heir, Princess Ariana, the joyous celebration is broken by a piercing scream, a dead body, and a room full of royal suspects.

Each section begins with a quote that provides some insight into the story. Most are by famous fictional detectives. Each post includes two sections (ie: I & II, III & IV, etc)

I. Every man at the bottom of his heart believes that he is a born detective. (John Buchan)

II. Have patience and endure; this unhappiness will one day be beneficial. (Ellery Queen)

III. From now on, it is our task to suspect each and every one amongst us. (Justice Wargrave)

IV. Truth arises from the seemingly irrelevant. (C. Auguste Dupin)

V. --- In the Ballroom with the Dagger? (Clue inspired)

VI. Put two and two together... sometimes the answer's four... and sometimes it's twenty-two. (Nick Charles)

VII. When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. (Sherlock Holmes)

VIII. It is not the past that matters, but the future. (Poirot)

Series Information:

Books: The Royal Romance Series, Crimes of Passion, Desire & Decorum, Blades of Light and Shadow

Characters: Trystan Thorne (M, race not mentioned), Marguerite Thorne, Olivia Nevrakis, Queen Amalas, Maxwell Beaumont, Daniel, King Liam, Tyril Starfury, Nia Ellarious, Prince Hamid

Pairings: Olivia Nevrakis x Queen Amalas ; M!Trystan Thorne x (no gender given) MC (mentioned) ; King Liam x Riley (mentioned)

Total Word Count: 6,600

Rating/Warnings: Teen, mentions of blood, stab wound, knives/daggers (no graphic descriptions)

Series Video Edit

The loveliest and talented @secretaryunpaid created little mini videos/gifs for each section and edited them together into what would be an amazing commercial for this series. Check it out:

[alj4890]

Escaping for a Moment

(Ernest Sinclaire x MC*Catherine Mills) in a Choices Desire and Decorum drabble

Thirty Kisses in Thirty Days Challenge with the prompt: forbidden lovers sharing a kiss in the shadows

Not quite sure who to tag for this one since it has been so long since I last wrote a drabble for this pair. Plus in cleaning out my drafts folder I lost my permatag list 🤦🏻‍♀️Tagging some who won't be too angry at me for doing so, LOL! @hopelessromantic1352 @twinkleallnight @tessa-liam @choicesficwriterscreations @krsnlove

Masterlist

"Enjoying yourself, my dear?"

Lady Catherine Mills stiffened at the sound of her fiancé's voice.

There was nothing that made her skin crawl quite like Tristan Richard's oily tone.

A scathing insult sat on the tip of her tongue to give the odious man the set down he so rightly deserved. One glance at her grandmother's stern demeanor instead had her forcing a smile.

"I am. Thank you, your grace."

The Duke of Karlington leered at her. He purposely moved closer and placed her hand within the bend of his arm. He enjoyed watching her suffer being trapped with him.

The Dowager Countess beamed at the pair. She was pleased beyond measure that her natural granddaughter had managed to capture such a prized suitor. There wasn't a young lady here who had done so well in such little time.

Nor with such a questionable background.

"You should dance and show her off, your grace." She prodded.

"What a marvelous notion." Tristan remarked.

He placed his hand over Catherine's, smiling all the more with her trying to avoid his touch.

"Shall we show them how it's done, my lady?"

Catherine knew she must say yes. It galled her to have to spend a single moment in this man's presence much less dance with him. The thought of his hands upon her body made her wish to find a chamber pot to wretch in.

If only she was allowed to marry the one man whom she so deeply loved. Mr. Ernest Sinclair was so many things to Catherine. He'd been her savior, her friend, and finally the one who stirred her soul like no other.

Why had they tarried so long that night before sharing the joyful news of their engagement? If they'd only found her grandmother sooner, Catherine would be eagerly taking a turn on the dance floor with her fiancé, Mr. Sinclair, instead of the fiend pretending to be a gentleman at her side.

Life seemed determined to be unfair for the young lady. Not only was she denied her true love, she also was denied even a glimpse of him. For reasons she assumed were because she was promised to another, Mr. Sinclair had yet to make an appearance this evening.

If it were not for Ms. Parsons and Prince Hamid being there to bolster her spirits, Catherine would most likely have dissolved into tears. Her heart ached for Ernest. She was near the point of throwing decorum out the window and running off to Gretna Green with him.

She no longer cared if her beloved father had intended to leave Edgewater to her instead of her stepbrother. Mr. Marlcaster wasn't a bad sort. Catherine could see that he truly had a kind heart when not under the thumb of his mother.

If her dear Briar believed he was all that was good in this world, then Catherine couldn't doubt it. Her friend had a way of seeing one's true nature. Mr. Marlcaster might fumble the finances and such, but he would be a good steward to the people of Edgewater.

She knew if she was to run away with Ernest, scandal would be forever associated with her name. Did it matter though? Her questionable birth already tainted her reputation, though she had no control over those circumstances. At least the new gossip would be something she could happily live with.

"Lady Catherine?" Tristan hissed. "Are you not paying attention?"

Catherine jerked her head away from the feeling of his breath on her ear.

The Dowager laughed at the notion.

"She is most likely lost in thought over the notion of marrying you, your grace."

Tristan's smile was one most ladies deemed charming.

Catherine found little to like in it.

"Is that true, my dear? Are you thinking about our wedding?" His voice lowered for her ears alone. "Or is your baseborn nature concentrating on our wedding night?"

Catherine jerked her hand from his. Trembling with suppressed rage, she pleaded for them to excuse her.

Blinded by angry tears, she wound her way through the crush of guests in search of an escape. Since the retiring room was filled with giggling ladies, she next hoped to find a quiet corner outside to try and calm down.

She shook her head when Prince Hamid asked if she needed him. After tripping her way to a side door, Catherine slipped outside and rushed deep into the shadows.

Her exit was halted by a pair of strong arms wrapping around her.

"Catherine?" Mr. Sinclair said softly to try and shush her cries.

"Ernest!" She twirled in his arms, her hands cupping his face as her lips immediately sought his.

Ernest deepened the kiss, holding her even closer within his embrace.

Catherine broke away to catch her breath. "I thought you were not coming."

"I could not stay away." He caressed her cheek. "I do not care what anyone thinks. I refuse to stand by and see you married to such a man as Duke Richards."

Though she couldn't see him well, his voice made her heart sing with his next words.

"You were created for me, Catherine. You are to be no one's wife but mine."

She sighed into the heat of his next kiss. Her hands moved along his broad shoulders, glorying in the fact that he was truly here and still wanted her for his own.

"My love," she breathed as his lips brushed kisses down her neck, "I want nothing more than to be Mrs. Sinclair."

"And so you shall." He fervently promised. "We will find a way out of your betrothal. The Duke of Karlington will not lay another finger on you."

The mention of her fiancé's name forced Catherine to reluctantly pull away.

"I should return before my grandmother sends the duke for me."

"I'll escort you back." Ernest pressed a kiss to the back of her hand before releasing her.

She took his arm, leaning closer than appropriate. She needed a few more moments near him if she was to endure the rest of the ball.

Once inside, notes were played to signal that the Allemande was about to begin.

"Would you do me the honor, my lady?" Mr. Sinclair asked in that proud proper tone of his.

Catherine looked up at him. Her eyes traced his handsome features in the nearby candlelight. Her first genuine smile of the night appeared upon her slightly kiss swollen lips. She could continue to play the part of a respectable noble as long as he was near.

"Thank you, Mr. Sinclair." She said with a polite tilt of her head. "I would love to."

As he took her in his arms to dance, Catherine felt both her hope and courage return.

She would find a way to freedom and celebrate it with the man at her side.

[resetmypatientviolence]

The Eyes Upon (Desire & Decorum)

Characters: Mr. Harper, Miss Parsons, Mr Sinclaire, Prince Hamid x MC

Word Count: 1,377

Rating: PG

Warnings: None!

Song Accompaniment: I’m Not The Only One-- Sam Smith

Description: Choosing to sit with Prince Hamid has all eyes on Pippa Mills-- including the ones who thought she only had eyes for them. 

Author Note: I wondered what the other LI’s would be feeling if you chose to sit with somebody that wasn't them after sharing more than a few moments that perhaps, promised forever. Faceclaim for Pippa is Alia Bhatt as seen below. Apologies for the angst.  MASTERLIST

All eyes, wet and dry, are on Pippa Mills during her father’s funeral service, the heir to Edgewater. Prince Hamid’s are the closest, bright despite the occasion as he allows her to rest her head upon his shoulder. Pippa manages a smile, locking her dark eyes with his, something so warm and safe, ones in which she could spend forever with, a forever her dearest Father more than approved of, sending her heart to new heights before it came crashing down in his final moments. 

All eyes are on Pippa Mills resting against the Prince, her intentions and future clear for all to see and speculate— yet there is no speculation to be had. There is only the truth. 

Luke Harper can only but clear his throat to the truth that sits in the front row as the Bishop speaks, speaking a great man who was gentle and kind and treated him with respect, so much of him in Pippa. Luke gulps back emotion, hand curling into a soft fist, eyes wet— but not from the Bishop’s words. The Earl is at peace, that much is true. 

As is true how Pippa rests against Prince Hamid, certainly a generous and kind man that would make a perfect fit for a beautiful woman such as her. He is nothing but a humble master of the stables, he is no Prince. Was he fool to think that he could compete with such a man? Yet…

By God, her laughter, the looks she offers him, the sweetest apple he tasted against her lips— massaging her feet, hearing those sounds of a pleasure and relaxation under this touch— sounds he could offer when they are alone and in a bedchamber. How soft her skin is, smelling of cloves and the warmth of the sun on a summer days, lips he stared at for too long, wishing, and yearning— and dreaming of the impossible, dreams and thoughts a man like him should never have for a Lady of Pippa’s place, because it only leads to heartbreak. 

Like now. Just like now, Prince Hamid’s cheek upon her soft hair, being her beacon of comfort. Did her request of romantic story mean nothing, truly? Was it just a game? Was it… no, Prince Hamid is a kind man. He is a Prince. And he… Luke brushes his eye. He is Luke Harper, a man that cannot be fit for Pippa, because she is the Heir to Edgewater. He knew this the moment he saw her grace the estate— that she can never be his. 

Luke gulps again and looks down, away from the choice glaring before him. Briar’s hand falls on his arm and they share a glance, everything he wants to say in his eyes. Briar squeezes, softly, then looks forward to the spectacle that is Pippa making her choice known. 

But Luke Harper keeps his eyes lowered, as to not cause further heartbreak from a woman he never had leaning on the person she wants the most.

Annabelle Parsons dabs her cheek, face warm as she listens to the Bishop but watches Pippa and Hamid murmur to one another, the joy of possibility so clear and telling on their faces, smiling despite the sadness that fills the room. Oh, her heart is heavy. It was heavy with the news of the Earl’s death, not only for the loss of a great man— but for Pippa, her dearest… friend.

How she envisioned pulling Pippa to the side to offer more than a polite nod of comfort. To offer her a soft touch, a hug, a brush of her lips to say that you’re not alone— but that did not happen, Pippa’s eyes for one person and one person only: kind and just and free spirited Prince Hamid. Can she fault Pippa for choosing such a man?

A man—

Annabelle looks down, fighting the urge to burst into a quiet cry, to be louder than a mouse. The Earl is not her father. But— by god, why does it hurt so much? She should have known, Prince Hamid so bold in the carriage with her, and Pippa’s skin showing such a slight flush as he touched her arm. She tried, oh she tried, didn’t she? The brush of her leg, Pippa offering a glance that said, Yes, yes, I’m here with you, and so much more with those million of other little moments she stole away with… a woman that captured her heart. 

Pippa’s look of surprise and joy with a flick of her fan, showing this utterly impeccable woman that she is hers through and through, teaching her music, singing the sweetest of song, the unmistakable joy on the woman that came to Edgewater and made it bright again. The stillness in the greenhouse, Pippa offering a suggestive wink and expression— Annabelle’s face warm the entire time, eyes drifting to her coy lips, wondering what she would taste like. 

But—

Pippa’s shoulder moves and she knows they are holding hands now. Annabelle sighs, sinking lower and lower into the pew. Prince Hamid is a perfect match for Pippa— and one that will no doubt be prosperous and happy. It is truly the best option for Edgewater, if Pippa is to keep it despite the Countesses attempts to thwart the Earl’s will. Yes, yes— this is true. 

Prince Hamid is the one thing she is not: a man. 

Ernest Sinclaire sits straight up in his pew, eyes forward, a carefully composed face that offers sadness and compassion for the reason they are all gathered there today. 

If only one could see the inside of his heart being torn to shreds— shreds worse than his ex-wife and the Duke, even. The Earl was a man of great honor and vitality for life— one that passed on to his daughter, the woman he nearly ran over because when he saw her— he could not focus. How could he with a face like hers, haunting him in his dreams every night since? Then she appears and challenges him like no woman— nor man— has done before, confirming everything that his heart knew before his mind did: that he was most ardently in love with her. 

Could he list the ways that she stole his heart, his mind, his emotions? 

He would list them until the end of time. 

But… Ernest tilts his chin up, glancing to the ceiling, then back down, settling on Prince Hamid and Pippa— happy, despite the circumstances before them. Happy… is it wrong to wish he’s that man with her on his side? Prince Hamid gets no ill will wished upon him— for he is a man that deserves the best of the world— so why is he surprised that the best of the world includes Pippa Mills, the woman that utterly stole everything he thought he knew about love and life and finding the joy in oneself. 

He shuts his eyes, unwilling to see the tender notes of affection that everybody can see and know: that Pippa has found her husband, and found her way to keep Edgewater, her rightful legacy. 

He wonders, oh wonders, if she dares to think of the bridge— or perhaps the carriage, after a night of confessions and truths and hopes that soared higher than heavens gates themselves. How soft her skin was under his, how she dared to keep eye contact as they stood closer than before… how the rain looked on her skin, making it shine under the light, a grin on her face the entire time. Or the warmth they sought in the carriage, drawing closer— somehow— than the bridge, confessions and everything he had on the line for her to take, offering her everything but the moon. 

But… he opens his eyes, the service ending, Pippa and Hamid looking into each others eyes, smiling. Ernest sighs, rubbing his neck. There’s a million possibilities and reasons and Prince Hamid is lucky, lucky man than will treat Pippa with all the love in the world, all that this strong, steadfast, and beautiful woman deserves. 

Yet… would he be the one looking into her eyes in the moment if, perhaps, he offered her his arm instead of words of resistance? 

All eyes are on Pippa Mills. 

Disclaimer: All characters and rights belong to Pixelberry Studios.

Permatag: @youwontlikewherewewillgo, @mfackenthal, @hhiggs, @jadedpixiescribbles, @ashtonmore, @enmchoices @the-everlasting-dream, @hopefulmoonobject, @krisnicjack, @museofbooks, @ladynonsense, @innerpostmentality, @thatcatlady0716, @lizeboredom, @choicessa, @boneandfur, @tmarie82, @speedyoperarascalparty, @thatspicegirlssong @zigthetwig, @craftytacotrashdream, @blackcoffee85, @quartzandarrow, @akrenich, @christopher-powell

Fic/Hamid tag: @sunflowergirl-25, @likethetailofacomet

[zoeywades-spouse]

How did more people not romance this man?!

[pixelsbichoice]

Watched Bridgerton and I have to stress again:

How did the grandma think a duke was a better choice than a whole ass PRINCE 😭

[missameliep]

Title: Once Upon a Summer - Part 2

Book: Desire & Decorum AU Pairing: Prince Hamid x Elizabeth Foredale (OC)

Rating: Teen

Word count: ~5.2k

Summary: Once upon a summertime, eleven-year-old Elizabeth befriended a boy at a beach. Returning to England in a rush, she didn't even say goodbye to her friend Hamid, and had little hope to ever see him again. What would happen if fate brought them together four years later? This is how their story goes...

A/N: No warnings. Just fluff. Turkish words are translated in the notes in the end.

August, 2001. 

From the airplane, Elizabeth’s eyes contemplated the lands bellow but fixed at the sight of the turquoise blue ocean. Her heart soared. Even in the company of her stepmother Henrietta, it seemed impossible to be unhappy in a dreamlike place like this. 

Her father had once more kept the promise, and the 11-year-old girl was beyond excited. 

Trying to reconcile work and vacation, it was Vincent's idea the family spent time at a resort at the Turkish Riviera while he attended business meetings at Istanbul, and later would join them at the weekend. Hopefully everything will go as planned. In his absence, there are plenty of activities to keep Elizabeth entertained and her stepmother off her back. 

Despite planning to spend most of her time at the beach – which would be a lot, considering the expected daily 12 hours of sunlight –, she made sure to research about the history, touristic attractions, and culinary to have the best experience ever with her father and the boys. Her eagerness to share those details were met with similar enthusiasm only by her father. They bought a Travel guide and a Turkish phrase book for tourists and she read them during the flight, memorising the most helpful ones, like “thank you” and “please”, even though her stepmother insisted it was pointless since everybody at the resort must speak at least rudimentary English.  

“It’d be rude if they didn’t,” she remarked at last, and huffed an exasperated breath when Elizabeth didn’t put the book away. 

Fanning herself on the short walk to the car, but refusing to take off her white blazer, Henrietta exclaimed to Elizabeth’s and Harry’s amusement, “Of all places, Vincent sent us straight to this furnace... How can anyone survive in such a horrible place!” 

On the drive from the airport to the resort, tired of the woman’s complains about the hot weather, Harry’s annoyance with the long hours travelled and Edmund’s sulking for some undisclosed reason she suspects might be a girl, Elizabeth put on the headphone and turned on the music on the mp3 player. Nely Furtado’s I’m like a bird starts playing and she smiles. 

Rolling down the window, Elizabeth inhaled the sea salty breeze and closed her eyes for a moment.  

The sea has always been Elizabeth’s happy place.  

Her earliest childhood memories are from walking at Ipanema’s finest sand and building sandcastles by the water with her mother. Once or twice her father was in the picture, and her mother would be smiling at him. Growing up near the ocean turned it into a reference and going to the beach her favourite pastime. Whenever her feet touched the warm sand and her skin submerged into the cold Atlantic waters, life was good. At the beach it was easier to forget the burden of being a spare daughter of an Earl who lived across the world from her or feeling out of place, not British enough but not entirely Brazilian either. 

When she was 9 years old, her mother announced they would move to England to be closer to her father, and she cried for two days until her eyelids were puffy and there were no more tears to shed. One could imagine her sadness was because she didn’t love her father nor wanted to be near him and her half-brother, but that was not the case; what truly saddened her was the fact the nearest beach was hours away of the county by car and the family didn’t fancy the sea like she did.  

“My little mermaid”, her father called her then, understanding her concerns, and promised at least for a few weeks every summer they would travel to be close to the sea. And so far, he kept this promise.  

Even if he could not keep the other promises made, or say no to his wife. 

This year, Henrietta threatened to forbid the boys to come along if Elizabeth’s mother accompanied her, which everybody knew would mean cancelling the trip. 

“Elizabeth is old enough to take care of herself, and you’re her father! Why is that woman even coming? Unless it’s for your enjoyment!” the woman shouted in her father's study at Edgewater, and he eventually yielded; Elizabeth wished he didn’t.  

Being away from her mother in a foreign country, even for a few weeks, would be hard. 

After the first days of glorious sun, the weekend came, but her father didn’t.  

A week after their arrival and the second time he rescheduled his flight, Elizabeth was too tired of avoiding fights with Henrietta and the malicious remarks about her appearance and manners. If her presence was so unwelcome, why would the countess deny her any opportunity to enjoy herself getting to know the region outside the limits of the resort and its private beach?    

“It’s your father’s duty, not mine,” the words were uttered with the intention to hurt her one morning during breakfast. “If he ever comes, he can take you wherever you want...” 

Without a responsible adult, she couldn’t join most of the external activities; however, this minor detail wouldn’t stop her, like Briar remarked when they were chatting online that evening. Out of spite, she decided to venture on her own and visit some of the places she was eager to see, risking a punishment later.

Early in the morning, knowing Henrietta would spend the day at the hotel’s spa, she left a note at the desk saying she would be at the beach.

Backpack stuffed with her books, two water bottles, an apple and a few dates, Turkish bread and cheese collected from the breakfast table, the Mp3 player, she sneaked out of the resort to visit the city of Fethiye and the Lycian rock tombs. It would be an adventure. 

It was a long walk to get to the city, but it was lovely seeing the beach and tourists outside the resort. At a small shop, she bought herself a pistachio ice-cream, then walked up hill to reach one of the famous tombs.  

Reaching the top, the visitors were rewarded with an amazing view of the city. When she picked up the camera, for a moment, she wished Harry or Edmund had tagged along, but both hated waking up early and hot weather. Not to mention the risk of Harry ratting on her, even if unintentionally. She took a few pictures to show them later and drank the remaining water in one of the bottles, rushing to get away from the monument as soon as a few adults started questioning if she was alone.

The sun was high in the sky on the way down, and her stomach started growling. Reaching the main promenade, while looking for a place to sit down and eat, she was startled by a screeching sound right behind her. 

Whirling around, she caught a glimpse of a young boy with a bright blue t-shirt riding a bicycle on the pavement right before he swerved to the right, almost running straight into her. Failing to redirect the bike, he collapsed a few metres ahead, right on the street. The traffic could not be called heavy, but wasn’t insignificant either, and it wouldn’t take long for a vehicle to get to him.   

Her hand covered her mouth, muffling a panicked scream; and she ran to help him back on the pavement. 

When she reached him, the boy, who was about her age, touched his knee, hissed and mumbled words in Turkish she couldn’t understand. There were no visible bruises in his face or arms, and it eased her a little. Her first instinct was to just grab him by the shoulders and pull him back, but she probably shouldn’t, even if she had the strenght to do it. 

Heart hammering in her chest, the only words in Turkish she remembered from the pocketbook inside her backpack were “merhaba”[1] and “Türkçe bilmiyorum”[2], neither helpful in this situation. 

Instead, she waved her hands. The first car swerved to avoid them, but the second coming in their direction managed to stop and halt the traffic in that lane.

“Get up before a car hit you,” she cried, and judging by his wide-eyed expression, he didn’t comprehend a word.  

Regardless of the lack of understanding in his part, she kneeled and asked for permission to help him, slowly speaking in English everything she was doing, like picking up his bike to move it to the pavement, to give him time to get up on his own. When he remained frozen on the asphalt, with those big dark eyes staring at her like a deer before being hit by a car, she offered a hand. “Come on.” 

By the time he got up by himself, a few passersby had rushed to check on him.

First, he thanked her in English. After he did, a smile curled his lips and dimpled his warm brown cheeks. It was bizarre to say the least that he’d smile after falling from the bike. 

“You were so fast,” she cried, unable to control the volume of her voice or the pace of her heart. “Are you hurt? I was so scared a car would hit you!”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry,” he said, and motioned to the persons around them, indicating he was alright and they soon walked away, and the traffic resumed in the previously obstructed lane.

Turning around to face her, he spoke with accented but perfectly understandable English, “I got distracted for a second by the new ice-cream shop there. I love ice-cream.” He pointed at a store at the other side of the street. “Sorry for almost running you over. Are you hurt?” 

“I’m okay. Just a little… startled.” 

“I can see that. If I had money now, I would buy you an ice-cream. It always makes me feel better. I think it’s because babam1 always bought me one when I got hurt,” he sighed and leaned against the bike. “Do you like ice-cream? Because if you do, you’ll love bici bici[3]. Have you tried?” He spoke quickly, a melodic monologue, and she had no idea what bici bici was, and it somehow seemed a safer answer to simply shook her head.  

Smiling at her, he offered a hand. “My name is Hamid.” 

“Lizzy,” she told him the nickname her friends use, finding it more appropriate than the name she came to associate with etiquette and the Queen, and her smile vanished when she noticed his scrapped palms. “You’re hurt.” 

He touched his hand with a thumb and clicked his tongue. “It’s just a scratch.” 

“It’s bleeding.” Kneeling, she put her backpack down and took the remaining water bottle. “Sorry, I only have water,” she said and asked for one of his hands. She poured the water, letting it remove the dirty of the street. 

While she focused on the task, Hamid kept looking at her, with an unabashed smile. 

“Where are you from?” he asked, while she poured the water on his other hand. 

“England.”

“No offense, but you don’t sound British” 

She looked up and refrained from laughing. 

“And how do they sound like?” 

“Like this stuffy teacher I had in school,” he replied, and started speaking random words with a heavy accent like he were a Bond villain, and she supposed he was mimicking said teacher. “You’re lucky you don’t sound like that!” 

“Not all Brits speak the same way, there are different dialects, you know…” 

“I didn’t know that!” he admitted while looking at his palms. “Which dialect do you speak?” 

She laughed. “Do you always ask so many questions?”

“I can’t help it, I’m very curious, and I love making new friends.”  

The word friend was misused in her opinion, considering the fact he is a local boy and she is a tourist due to stay another 12 days, and they would never see each other again. But his expression was so welcoming, and the idea of having a friend – even if on a temporary arrangement – to go to the beach with and walk around the city sounded somehow appealing due to her current loneliness. And a much easier deal to a shy girl like herself since he was offering. 

Hanging her backpack on one shoulder, she shoved her hands inside the pockets of her shorts and contemplated the idea of having a picnic.  

“So, Hamid, before you attempted to trample me, I was going to have a snack,” she said softly, “if you’re not doing anything, I can share with you. It’s not much… but…”  

“Sure!” Holding the handlebars of his blue bike without touching his palms, he started walking and called over his shoulder. “Come on, Lizzy, I know the perfect place.” 

The boy was lively and cheerful, just a few inches taller than her. His skin was a tanned warm brown, much lighter than her mother’s, and his hair straight and black, with longer locks in the front that almost covered his dark expressive eyebrows. His eyes were also of a very dark shade of brown, almost black as his pupils. Like the pearls of her grandmother’s necklace, his teeth were perfectly lined and shiny, and whenever he smiled, two dimples formed on the sides of his face; Elizabeth thought that was a lovely thing. 

Following him down a secondary street, she noticed several scratches in the bicycle’s painting, a scab in his elbow and a few healed scars on his knees, not to mention the thorn on the side of his black and white shorts. Perhaps, falling off his bike was not an unusual occurrence, and something kids in Türkiye and England have in common.  

Hamid did most of the talking and asked several questions without barely giving her time to answer; most of them amused her, while she diverted every single one concerning her family or lodging details, obeying the security protocols taught ever since she came to England. 

“How old are you, Liz?” 

“11.” 

“I’m 11 too! I’ll be twelve on December. When is your birthday?” 

“July.” 

“We’re here.” He vaguely gesticulated, and walked through lines of tables and chairs towards the entrance of colourful restaurants and a fish market.  

Hamid was greeted by some of the waiters and men on their way.  

“Do you like fish?” he asked her, and she nodded.

Then he sprinted towards an older man with grey hair and thick black eyebrows, who effusively greeted him. The boy kissed the man’s hand and touched it to his forehead, in what she assumed was a sign of respect to the elderly. Smiling, they talked for a while, and the man nodded towards her, huffled his hair and they gesticulated, calling another man inside the restaurant. When both men disappeared inside, Hamid leaned his bike against the wall of the restaurant and ran back to where she was watching the scene with curiosity. 

Walking ahead, he guided her to one of the tables.  

“We can have what you brought, and something that I’ll bring.”  

“I thought you didn’t have any money.” 

“I don’t.”  

She smiled and nodded to the direction the man had been standing a moment before. “Is that your father?” 

“No, babam is at Istanbul. Working. Annem is there with him. That one over there is Cemal Bey, he’s a good friend of Dedem and his wife is the best cook in the country... Please don’t tell Hala Fatma I said that,” he said in a conspiratorial tone. 

“And people will just give you food?” 

“Sometimes, if I ask them nicely. And I told my English friend wanted to try the best Turkish food in the country… few people resist being complimented like that.” 

“Clever.” 

The tip of his tongue peeked between his teeth when he smiled at her. “But I admit Cemal Bey being a good friend of Dedem and knowing me since I was a baby helped.” 

She chuckled and took the snacks from her backpack, under Hamid’s attentive supervision.  

“I was expecting something like crisps and Doritos...” 

“Disappointed?” 

“A little,” he replied with a frown. “If you have any candy, I beg you share with me. Halam won’t let me eat anything that isn’t healthy!” 

Elizabeth chuckled and offered him a date. “This is the sweetest thing I’ve got with me...” 

Sighing, he accepted it with a sorrowful look, and she smiled. 

“Dedem and Fatma, who are they?” 

“Dedem is grandfather,” he said gnawing on a date. “Hala Fatma is babam’s younger sister, my aunt. I’m staying with her and my cousins this month.” 

They shared the bread and cheese; and despite her initial protest, Hamid poured some olive oil on a piece of bread and made her try it. When she did, she hummed in delight and asked some more cheese. “That’s too good! I could eat my weight in this cheese...” 

While she took another bite of the bread, Hamid’s expression turned serious. 

“I need to ask: are you a runaway girl?” 

“Excuse me?” she asked, almost chocking on the bread. “Why would you think that?” 

“I just watched X-Men, and you being here alone in a city you’ve never been before with a backpack gives me major Rogue vibes…” 

“I’m just sightseeing,” she shrugged his concern, “not escaping my mutant powers or anything really.” 

“You never mentioned your family…” He lowered his voice, so only she could hear him, “If you’re in trouble, there are good people here who can help.” 

“I’m fine. Really. Dad is at Istanbul working. Like yours. And mum couldn’t come to this trip…” she paused and refrained from sharing with a strange boy the dramas of her family. “So, I’m staying at a hotel with my stepmother and my brothers.” 

“Hmmm… I see… evil stepmother!” 

“I never said that!” 

“You didn’t deny it either,” he pointed out with a mischievous grin. "What about the brothers? Are they as jealous as Cinderella’s sisters?” 

“Harry can be jealous at times,” she laughed covering her mouth with a hand, and looked away. “They’re okay. We get along well, but they don’t fancy going to the beach as much as I do… or being outside when it’s hot. Edmund got sunburned on our second day here.” 

“What a bummer...” 

“He’s better now, but refuses to leave his room... And with the pretence of keeping him company, Harry stays with Edmund... So, they play videogames day and night!” 

“You don’t like videogames?” 

“I like videogames; what I don’t get it is why would anyone prefer any game over this?” She waved both hands in a circle around them. “It’s such a perfect day for an adventure! I love the salty sea breeze! Just this morning I walked around the city, and not only had the best pistachio ice-cream ever but was taught about some place called Antep and the story of this man’s family and pistachio. Okay, I didn’t understand most of what he was saying but it was amazing anyway. And when I said Teşekkür ederim[3] he explained that was too formal and taught me Sağ olun[4]. Did I say it correctly?” 

“Yes, perfectly. I can teach you words too.”  

“Then I went uphill, saw these ruins and –” 

“What about meeting me?” with a mocking pout, he asked.

“Usually near accidents are not my favourite parts of any trip.” 

“Near is better than actual accidents.” 

“You’re right,” she laughed. 

“And what’s still missing on your perfect day list?” 

She hummed in consideration and her eyes flicked in the direction of the marina, even though they couldn’t see the boats from where they were seated. 

“I wanted to go in one of those boats and spend the day at the sea, visiting the islands, but Henrietta gets seasick – or so she says it. And Edmund keeps saying we should wait for dad, or something terrible might happen because we’re kids, the world is a terrible place, and we’ll probably be stranded at sea…or drown. Basically, something horrible will happen.”  

“Wow! That’s –” Hamid paused, searching for a word and settled with “disturbing...” 

Cemal bey called Hamid, who sprinted to get a plate with breaded fish, chips, garlic sauce and the biggest olives she’s ever seen. They ate in silence, and Hamid kept gazing at her for some reason. An ear-to-ear grin on his face. 

“Do I have something on my face?” He shook his head, but she kept wiping her mouth and chin with a napkin, just in case.  

Hamid picked the chips with his fingers and tucked into his mouth, and she did the same.

If her grandmother saw her eating this much in public and using her hands, there would be a lot of chiding. For a moment, she hesitated, her hand hovered over the fork, but then she considered how far from home she is and the advantages of being unknown here. Grinning, she used her hands again. The chips tasted even better while disregarding etiquette. 

After the meal, Hamid offered to take her back to the hotel, which she decline since she having so much fun with him; since he didn’t need to go home before sunset, they decided to walk around some more.

Sitting on his bike, he patted the tube and offered a lift and to carry her backpack, even though it was much lighter without the water and food. Putting her backpack on his back, she took the offered seat. 

Chatting all the while, they rode for several minutes until arriving at the marina, where he locked his bike to a lamp pole at the entrance.  

“Race you there,” Hamid shouted from over his shoulder, already sprinting at full speed. 

“That’s unfair,” she cried back, running after him, “I don’t even know where we’re going!” 

She caught up to him, or maybe he let her get closer and they ran side by side until the middle of the marina, to a point where sailboats and yachts were on either side of them. It wasn’t bustling as earlier hours of the days, and few people were working on boats, cleaning them or just walking around.

Hamid indicated an empty spot, and they sat down, letting their feet dangle from the edge and above the water. She looked around with a wide smile, following with her eyes the seagulls flying close to one of the boats, trying to steal someone's lunch.

“I’d love to spend time at the sea, to travel for many days and see many ports... How exciting it must be! Imagine all one could learn. The languages. And the food. I could get something from each place, a treasure, to remind me later from all I’ve seen...” 

“Like a pirate?” 

“No, not like a pirate!” 

“Why not? They have cool clothes and songs.” 

“I couldn’t be a criminal!” she laughed.  

“We could be pirates together!”  

He jumped to his feet with a roar, twirled and climbed into a boat. “Ahoy! Pull the anchor!” he said with his best pirate impression, one eye closed and a hand cutting the air in rapid movements. “Let’s trouble the water. Avast ye! And sail against the tides!” 

Elizabeth laughed and he extended his hand, inviting her to climb it too. 

“Hamid, we can’t do that...” She looked around for anybody who could be watching them. “We could get in trouble...” 

“Don’t worry. It’s Dedem’s boat.” 

He offered a hand and helped her get into the boat. They walked to the bow pretending to be on a pirate ship. The deck gentle swaying beneath their feet as they staged a mock sword fight. 

“Dedem always took me and my cousins with him to the sea,” Hamid said later, when they sat down by the railings to watch the seagulls fighting over food, “and he taught us to sail and fish. Babam and Amca Ozan would join us too, if they were not working...” 

They watched the boats returning to the marina, spoke about movies and Hamid shared many stories of his family and his five sisters.  

“Five sisters?” she asked, ���For real?” 

“Is it really the strangest thing?” 

“That was rude. Sorry.” 

“You apologise a lot,” he remarked, “Why’s that?” 

She pondered at the question for a moment, not knowing what to say, and just shrugged. 

Hamid didn’t ask anything else about it, and the conversation shifted to other topics. Whenever he asked about the hotel her family was staying, she diverted and talked about something else. The last thing she needed was Henrietta coming to spoil their fun. 

Leaning against the railing, Hamid pointed at all his favourite places, even if it was impossible to see some of them from the boat.   

“Let’s go,” he said and pulled her by the hand.  

A moment later they were back on the bike. Speeding up, the breeze blew their hair, and she laughed; when they reached the beach, Hamid plopped down the sand, breathless and with beads of sweat between his brows, tip of his nose and over his lips. 

“Hey! I bet I can beat you to that rock,” she dared. 

He used one hand to shield his eyes from the sun and look at her, “Can’t you see? I’m dead.” 

“Afraid of losing?” 

“You pedal next time then,” he muttered. 

“Deal.” 

Disrobing to her bathing suit, she sprinted to the water, skipping waves; Hamid removed only his t-shirt to follow her and cursed when the salty seawater caused his bruises to sting, and she couldn’t stifle a laugh.  

She got to the rock first and helped him climb it to sit beside her.  

When the sun started its descent to the sea, the sky turned pink like her favourite roses at Edgewater’s garden, and the clouds looming over the horizon were painted in gold. It was beautiful sight, but also a reminder she lost track of time. She must return to the hotel before it gets too dark. 

“I should go.”  

Elizabeth hopped to the shore and put on the shorts and t-shirt, and picked up the backpack. 

“Liz,” he called behind her, shortening her nickname, and wiped the water from his eyes. “Can we meet tomorrow? I can bring Faiza’s bike, and we ride together.” 

She nodded and they agreed to meet at 9 o’clock sharp at that same place. Putting on the sneakers, she ran towards the pavement, but spared a last look over her shoulder. Hamid waved at her, a wide smile curling his lips while his gaze followed her.  

In the end, meeting Hamid turned out to be her favourite part of the day. 

September, 2005. 

Loud as flocks of parakeets at sunset, the buzz of students going out of the sports court dimmed down the closer she got to the library.

Away from the noise and prying eyes, Elizabeth fished the mobile from the backpack, and almost dropped it to the ground, only then realizing her hands were shaking. Her heart was not doing any better, beating as fast as if she’d been running. She sat on the ground, under an old tree and leaned her back against the rough trunk. The crown of the tree shadowed that part of the grass and the breeze was cool, soothing the redness of her face.

When she managed to make the call, Briar barely said “hi” and Elizabeth started ranting. 

“Can you believe this? He thinks I’m cute but doesn’t remember me! At all!” she repeated, and Briar squealed.  

“Briar!” Elizabeth cried.  

“Wait! He thinks you’re cute? How do you know? Who told you?” 

“He did when he came to talk to me after the game. He called me gorgeous or something... I wasn’t paying attention –” 

Briar let an even higher-pitched squeal, and Elizabeth moved the mobile away from her ear. 

“He came to you and said that? I’m dying! That’s even better!” 

“How’s that better?” 

“I don’t know. Did you tell him who you are?” 

“I – No! I freaked out!” Elizabeth rubbed her eyes with her free hand. “I assumed he knew. Like why else would he be looking at me during the game or come to talk to me?” 

“Because he thinks you’re gorgeous, silly!” she said in a sing-song voice. 

“I’m mortified. I was super casual with him... How could he not know? I look the same!” 

“You certainly do not. Your hair looks amazing now without any of those stripy pink highlights --” 

“It was red.” 

“It was so not!” Briar snorted with laughter, “I'm grateful now my mother forbade me to dye my hair when I asked!” 

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at the remark. Her hair is definitely styled better now, and the rainbow coloured highlights from those days remained only in the pictures.

“It's been 4 years, innit? You lost quite a few pounds, you can fill a bikini top now in case you haven’t noticed. And you two met in a total different country! Don’t forget that, Lizzy.”  

Elizabeth’s eagerness to rebuke died down a little. It’s has been a long time. Her chin tilted up to look at a bird chirping at the bough of the tree and she sighed.  

“I just thought that friendship was special to both of us. I had zero trouble reconizing him.”  

“In his defense, you’ve been secretly crushing on him for 4 years –” 

“I was not crushing!” 

“Are we lying to each other now? I know you keep pictures of him on your drawer –” 

“Those are souvenirs from the trip! And I’m on some of those pictures too. And so are Ed and Harry.” 

“I'm just saying it isn’t that weird he didn't reconize you...” 

“I suppose...” she replied, her tone too despondent.

“You can still be sad or disappointed...” 

“But I should be happy, right? He's here.” 

“I would, if I were you.” Elizabeth could picture Briar's genuine smile even without seeing her face. “Even more so if the boy I was crushing thought I was gorgeous!”

“Stop it,” Elizabeth pleaded, covering a warm cheek with a hand.

Briar laughed loudly, then whispered on the phone, “You can finally see if this idealised version of a boy you met years ago stands the test of time…” 

“What do you mean?”

“You never consider dating anyone because boys can't compete with him, now you have him so you can either date him or move on.” 

Elizabeth sighed, and it carried all the exhaustion just the persons closest to her knew about.

“I don't think so... You know I have more important matters to focus. I can't get distracted by boys. Not now.”  

“But don't you think you deserve a break from all that crap? Some happiness? I believe you do. And the universe seems to agree with me. Or it wouldn't just throw him back to you, woult it?” 

Elizabeth listened to her friend while observing other students, two girls rushed with hands intertwined, smiling at each other. 

“You’re living at the same country and are old enough to actually fall in love and date. Just enjoy it. Tell him. Don’t tell him. It's your choice. But you should get to know him now, maybe you'll be running away from him after a ten minutes conversation because he's grown-up to become a wanker.” 

“You’re right,” Elizabeth said, her words coated by a chuckle. “And if he's still the same, we can be friends again.” 

“Oh, my god! It just crossed my mind now how perfect this whole story will be to tell in your wedding! –” 

“Wedding?” Elizabeth echoed, but Briar didn’t even acknowledge her words, still rambling about the pictures in her drawer.

“– the pictures! We need copies. Tons of copies. Just in case. Childhood friends. Lovely!” Briar was speaking quickly and incessantly. 

“I’m fifteen!” Elizabeth protested, “We talked once. And I kind of run away...” 

“Next time, you stay, Lizzy.” 

Notes:

[1] merhaba – means “hello”

[2] Türkçe bilmiyorum – translates as “I don’t speak Turkish.”

[3] bici bici – it’s a dessert, typical of southern Turkey and the Mediterranean region, especially consumed in the summer. Bici bici is prepared with crushed ice, starch, and syrup.

[4] Teşekkür ederim – translates as “thank you”

[5] Sağ olun – it’s an informal way of saying “thank you”

[choicesficwriterscreations]

CFWC F/AtoW: Oct 6 - 12, 2024

✒️ = Fanfic | 📱 = Text Fics/Edits | 🎨 = Fanart Ⓜ️ = Mature Content 18+ | 🔥 = Explicit/NSFW 18+ 🏳️‍🌈 = LGBTQIA+

BLADES OF LIGHT AND SHADOW

Bonds of Sea and Fire (Series) ✒️ | Tyril Starfury x F!Elf!MC - @missameliep Part 3

Daenarya 🎨🏳‍🌈 | F!Human!MC - @acesamateurart C: @storyofmychoices

Strike a Pose 🎨 | Aerin Valleros x F!Human!MC - @erixadraws

The love I gave you is yours to keep 🎨 | Aerin Valleros x F!Human!MC - @erixadraws

DESIRE AND DECORUM

Once Upon a Summer - Part 1 ✒️ | Hamid x F!MC - @missameliep

GHOST OF US

Grey and MC 🎨🏳‍🌈 | F!Grey Morrison x F!MC - @pilitella C: @haruyuki728

HIGH SCHOOL STORY

Take me high, high, high, high ✒️🏳‍🌈 | Aiden Zhou x M!MC - @zhoumeyourlove

OPEN HEART

Autumn's Embrace ✒️ | Bryce Lahela x F!MC - @storyofmychoices

Diagnosis: Jealousy ✒️ | Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @jerzwriter

Our Miracle Baby (Series) ✒️ | Rafael Aveiro x F!MC - @rafasgirl23415 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Pumpkin Heist 📱 | Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @liaromancewriter

THE PRINCESS SWAP

Safe With Me ✒️ | M!Clarke x F!MC - @bri1234

RED CARPET DIARIES

Forehead Kiss 🎨 | Thomas Hunt x F!MC - @cashweasel C: @theartoflovingthomashunt

THE ROYAL ROMANCE

Ghosted (Series) ✒️ | Liam Rys x F!MC - @kristinamae093 Chapter 13: Family Ties

Princesa Real 2 (Series) ✒️ | Liam Rys x F!MC - @belencha77 Chapter 43: El peso de la verdad Chapter 44: Conflictos y promesas Chapter 45: Conflictos y promesas Chapter 46: Sombras del pasado

Turning the Page (Series) | Liam Rys x F!MC - @tessa-liam Chapter 15: Bridge of Dreams

CROSSOVERS

High School Story / Princess Swap

The Prince Swap (Series) ✒️ | M!MC & M!MC - @lover-also-fighter-also, @cadybear420 Chapter 1 - Part 2: How To Be You

[lorirwritesfanfic]

Niceness Test

Book: Desire & Decorum Pairing: Prince Hamid x MC (Daphne) Rating: T Word count: 9481 Reading time: ~38min (… 🫣) Summary: After receiving a box of childhood treasures, Daphne is challenged to prove she still would make it to Santa's nice list. Author’s notes:

Daphne Wang, Kyle and Stacy Evigan are creations of this author. The others characters are owned by Pixelberry Studios;

Yes, it's a Christmas fic. In May. I started writing this in December to answer @missameliep's ask and it became this monster of a fic with mini stories in it. Sorry not sorry;

No fictional kids nor fishes were harmed in this piece. Daphne and Briar just have a very "peculiar" sense of humor 😅

Warning: This piece contains brief mentions of adult material (alcohol abuse, solvent intoxication). Reader discretion is advised.

Ithaca (NY), first week of December 2022

Loud barks echoed from the lounge whilst Daphne set up the dining table for dinner. As she caught the sight of Maya running through the hallway, the front door opened. Once Hamid's laughter reverberated through the walls, it wasn't hard for her to guess what happened. Maya probably rushed to climb on him whilst Drake threw himself at Hamid's feet and his entire chubby body shook in excitement. Their pets were always happier when Hamid was home. A sentiment she wholeheartedly shared with them.

"Aşkım?"

"Just a second!" She answered and continued to fold the napkins.

But before she could finish it, she yelped as warm lips brushed against her neck.

"How dare you deny me my welcome home kiss, Miss Wang?" Hamid murmured against her skin.

"I wasn't denying you a kiss..." She spun around to give him a peck. "I was postponing it."

"And I hope you have a plausable reason for this."

"I do."

The lady pointed to the green napkins on the plates.

"You and the napkin foldings again..." He tsked.

"Hamidciğim, we're hosting our first Christmas Eve supper in three weeks! I have to prepare myself for it."

"By folding napkins into layered triangles?" He asked as he walked into the kitchen to wash his hands.

"It's a Christmas tree!" She protested.

"Is it?"

When Hamid returned to the dining room, she placed a small shiny star on top of every napkin folded into Christmas trees.

"Oh..." He nodded, admiring her handiwork. "I see it now. Nice touch."

"Thank you."

"But are we expecting guests or can we eat now? I smelled spicy chicken pad thai the minute I walked in." He pouted.

"You can eat, silly... I was just practicing folding the napkins while waiting for you."

"Thank you, my dove." He placed a kiss on her cheek and took a seat on the table. "You got a package from Mrs. Daly," he prompted.

"Finally!" She grinned and rushed to the lounge to search for the package. Daphne rarely could contain her curiosity about any mail they received, even if she didn't know the content. Once she found the package, the lady then opened a drawer to find anything sharp to cut the packaging open.

"Aşkım, can't you open it after dinner?"

"You know I can't wait," she replied as the letter opener cut through the brown sealing tape.

"But I'm starving!"

She giggled. Hamid never hid from her how much he disliked having meals by himself and she found it adorable that even their pets obliged to his request. Grabbing the package, she returned to the dining room, where Hamid and their pets had already started their meals.

"You didn't need me here." She pursed her lips.

"I beg to differ," he said with a wink. "What's in there?"

"I don't know. I just cut the tape. Give me a second."

Her lips curled upwards as she looked through the content of the package.

"Oh, man..." Her eyes gleamed as she picked up a rag doll wearing a traditional hanfu dress and hugged it. After unfolding a letter that was on top of the doll, she began to read it.

Edgewater, November 22, 2022.

Dear Daphne,

I hope all is well with you and Hamid. Do you remember that when we moved here, you accidentally ended up with my box of kitchen utensils and losing one of your boxes? Well, whilst cleaning the attic last week, I found this box among a few untouched ones that I believed it was Briar's old clothes and decided to send it to you. I'm happy to have found your missing box and, hopefully, its content will bring you as much joy as it used to when you were a kid.

Love, Pavarti Daly.

His brows shot up in surprise. "Is it the box you thought was lost for good when you moved to the UK?"

"Yeah..." Daphne croaked whilst she produced dusty sketchbooks and old opera playbills from inside of a pocket worn out Pucca backpack.

Hamid then sauntered over to her and wrapped his arms around her. "Are you okay?"

"Mmhmm..." She sighed, returning the hug. "I thought you were starving."

"I am, but I can wait."

"Thank you… I needed this," she murmured, pressing her head against his chest.

"I had a feeling you did," he said, kissing her temple before looking down at the box. "Is that a Hello Kitty cellphone?"

"Yeah..." She then reached for the mobile and opened one side of the cat shaped device to inspect it. "How did you know?"

"Malak had one of these. This thing has the most annoying ringtones..." He made a face.

"They weren't annoying."

"If you were raised with Edmund and Harry, they certainly would've sided with me."

She playfully elbowed him, making him chuckle.

"Just so you know, I'm very attached to it."

"Why?"

Her thumb brushed against the mobile buttons. "This was my first phone. It was the first Christmas gift dad gave me. Mum didn't approve of it in the beginning. 'What would a twelve year old do with a cellphone?'" Her nostrils flared and lips twisted in scowl as she mimicked Mary's voice. "But dad said he needed a special line so he could talk to his favourite girl in the world. I was over the moon when he said that. And though mum set a bunch of rules for me to use it, she let me keep it."

"Vay, vay, vay...¹" Hamid marvelled. "Convincing your mother into accepting the phone is one thing. But winning his daughter's and former wife's hearts with one single line? Lord Vincent never ceases to amaze me."

"I know, right?" Daphne beamed. "I used that phone for years until dad bought me the Sailor Moon smartphone."

"The one that came with a selfie stick as shaped as Princess Serenity's wand you still have."

"The very same. But when I inherited my father's title, Lady Grandmother gave me an iPhone and said an accomplished lady should leave these childish things behind." Daphne looked down at the box and fiddled with the glittery wings of a fairy Barbie.

"I wonder how Lady Dominique would feel about the fact that I often make video conferences in an office cramped with action figures we use as bookshelf holders."

She giggled.

"What else did you get in there?"

"Curious, aren't we?"

"How can I not be? Look at this!" He picked up a photograph of two year old Daphne beaming as she wore a traditional qipao dress for lunar new year.

"Oh, I remember this! I still lived in Shanghai when mum took it. I think we were at a temple fair…” She said, analyzing the picture more thoroughly. “I haven't seen this picture in years!"

"One more reason we should keep looking. By the way, this is mine now," he declared, taking the photo frame back.

"Hamid!"

"Consider it my Christmas gift this year."

"But I already bought you a gift!"

“My dove, you have to stop spoiling me on Christmas…” He joked.

“I don’t! You keep confiscating things from me and then saying it’s your Christmas gift!”

“Lies…”

Daphne shook her head and continued to rummage through the box.

"Anything interesting?"

"Not exactly..." she answered, glancing at worn out Coney Island souvenirs, old movie tickets and dusty sketchbooks. "I'll probably throw some of these out though."

"Why?"

"Because they're old and dirty."

"You never throw away sketchbooks."

"But I have to see if they're in good condition or not. "

She grabbed a dirty teddy bear with a paw and an ear missing.

Hamid immediately sneezed.

"I guess some of these aren't worth keeping. Gesundheit," she said, offering him a spare napkin.

"Thank you. Aşkım, you don't have to throw it out. We can get it cleaned."

"It has parts missing. If we throw it in the washing machine or send it somewhere to clean up, the remaining parts might fall off."

Hamid looked at the worn out and dirty teddy bear. "Are you sure? You've been missing the content of this box for so long."

"It's just an old toy. I'll survive without it."

As Daphne continued to see the content of the box, Hamid's eyes landed a small bundle of notes tied by a red string.

"What are those?"

Daphne reached for the small pile of notes when it suddenly hit her. "Old Christmas wish lists."

"Christmas wish lists?" Hamid's brows knitted together. "I thought kids could only ask for one gift."

"No, you can make a list with everything you want and put it in the letter. But mum never let me ask for more than three gifts. She used to say Santa can't carry a full bag just with gifts for me. Most grownups, including both of my grandmothers, praised mum for it. They used to say it was a smart way to teach me about thinking of others and not becoming selfish."

"I wouldn't have expected anything less from Mrs. Wang." Hamid smiled fondly. "So are these?"

"Draft lists. I made one every year and mum helped me choose three gifts and write the letters."

His brows shot up in surprise. "How old were you when you started doing wishlists?"

"Hm..." She squinted her eyes in deep thought. "Five or six, I think... I used to see mum making lists for everything we bought."

"Everything?"

"Yeah… She made these huge lists when we went shopping for clothes, or to buy the stuff she needed to customise any of her costumes or our clothes to make them cooler. It looked fun."

“Has anyone told you you’re adorable?”

"You do every time I do something you find funny or weird."

The couple shared a knowing smile.

"May I?" Hamid pointed to the bundles of notes.

“Sure.”

He then unfolded the paper and cleared his throat. "2003 list — Great year to start, by the way — Staedtler colour pastel pencils, Strathmore 400 Series watercolor pad, Powerpuff Girls dolls, Totally Spies board game... You were very thorough about this."

"Of course. I couldn’t learn how to use watercolour paint or markers if Santa got me the wrong kind of paper."

"Fair point." Hamid grinned and looked at another list. "Ohuhu Fine Line drawing pen, Barbie Fairytopia, Polaroid camera, Pucca backpack... It seems like you got a lot of those gifts," he commented, glancing at the box.

"Good kids usually do," she answered with a complacent grin.

"Oh, look who's being a smug..." He teased, nudging her playfully. "I doubt Santa would see it as a quality good kids must have."

"First of all, smugness won't make anyone end up on Santa's naughty list. And secondly, Santa isn't real, so—"

"What?!" Hamid mockingly gasped. "Santa isn't real?!"

She pursed her lips, trying to hide a smile.

"How could you let me believe in this nice old man that comes to our house all these years to bring gifts? Why do you insist on celebrating Christmas then?" He gesticulated profusely as he spoke, pretending to be offended.

The lady folded her arms. "Are you done?"

"Oh, the betrayal! The lies! You..." He made a dramatic pause, pointing his index finger to her, then placing a hand on his chest. "You lied to me, aşkım."

She slapped his arm playfully. "Get over yourself and go eat your chicken before Maya does."

Hamid then turned to the table, where their cat calmly approached his plate.

"Maya, no!"

He grabbed the cat as she yowled in protest.

"Allah, Allah… What's with you and spicy food, huh?"

Whilst Hamid and Maya seemed to be in a heated argument, Daphne giggled, petted her pug (who ate his food oblivious to everything else), and took a place on the table to make herself a plate.

Once the cat was back on the floor Hamid spoke again. "You didn't tell me how you found out Santa wasn't real."

"The flat we lived in when I was ten had central heating and no chimney. I got curious about how Santa would get in."

"Of course you did." He grinned. "What did Mrs. Wang say?"

"Mum said he'd just get in through the window. So I decided to hide behind the sofa and wait for Santa to open the window for him. Later that night, I saw mum placing the gifts under the tree and putting the cookies we left for Santa earlier back in the cookie jar."

"Aw... How upset were you?"

"On a scale of one to ten? I'd say nine."

"Yikes!"

"Once mum explained the history of Saint Nicholas, I was okay with it. And it started to make sense why she never let me ask for a unicorn."

Hamid cackled. "Well, it also explains why you were always on the nice list."

"Hey!" She frowned. "I deserved to be on the nice list. I was a good girl back then! I still am!"

"Is that so?" A corner of his mouth lifted. "Do you mind if I put your level of niceness to a test?"

"How do you plan to do that?"

"Oh, that's easy." Hamid reached for his phone on the side table, typed something then showed the screen to her.

"How to be on Santa's nice list?"

"There's no better way to figure out than using Santa's parameters of niceness."

"Very well." She squared her shoulders and lifted up her chin. "I'm positively sure I'll crush it, but if you insist."

Hamid arched an eyebrow and chuckled before turning his attention back to the list on the phone. "Number one: leave milk and cookies for Santa."

"That's the first one?"

"And you're already failing it since you don't do it anymore."

"Are you kidding me?!"

"I don't make the rules." He raised his hands in defence. "It's a tradition of your culture. And you're not starting off so well, aşkım."

She folded her arms. "That's just one item. Go on."

"Number two: give your friends and family presents — yes; number three: do your homework — always; number four: be a good friend — absolutely, you're the best."

"Aw... thank you!"

"Of course." He winked and continued. "number five: do good deeds for your neighbours and community — Hm..." He scratched his stubble pretending to be in deep thought.

"What? I am a good neighbor!"

"Do you think our building manager would agree with that?"

August 2022

"You've got to be kidding me..." Daphne's nostrils flared as she approached the refreshments tables.

"My dove, settle down..." Hamid wrapped an arm around her as he tried to reason. "Nothing is going to happen. It doesn't matter if the majority of the residents and tenants don't have or want pets. Our building was already pet friendly before Mrs. Evigan moved in and it's illegal to forbid any of us to have pets."

"Then what's the purpose of this poll anyway?"

"She wants to reduce the noise in the building at night to a minimum and wants to know how many residents have pets," the building concierge, Mr. Carson, said whilst he poured himself some coffee.

"But all pets here are neutered and most of them are well behaved," Briar mentioned.

"That little spawn of Satan she gave birth to is much louder and causes way more trouble in here than all the pets of the building combined." Daphne fumed.

Whilst the concierge, Briar and a few neighbors close to them chuckled, Hamid gave his partner a look.

"It's true and you know it," Daphne affirmed.

"I think it's because of Mrs. Tilbury's dog howling," their next neighbor Kyle mentioned.

"But it's so unfair. Mrs. Tilbury passed away a week ago. The poor dog missed his owner." Briar frowned.

"The dog is not even here anymore. Her relatives took him away when they came by to gather her things this morning," Mr. Carson, added between small sips of coffee. "Oh, this is good stuff! Is it Turkish coffee?"

"Yes, it is." Hamid smiled proudly.

"Oh, I've been craving a good dose of caffeine all afternoon! Thank you, Mr. Osmanoğlu." The man took another sip in delight.

"It's my pleasure, Mr. Carson. Please take one cup to yourself before you go back to the hall." Hamid grabbed the carafe to offer more coffee to the concierge.

"Okay, so what now?" Briar asked.

"Once we inform if and how many pets we have, we can come up with a counter offer to find solutions for the noise," Kyle, the neighbor, suggested.

"Our apartment has soundproof windows and thick drapes ever since Hamid moved in, but I don't know if everyone can afford it," Daphne acknowledged.

"Yeah, those aren't cheap. But it was very clever of the two of you to do it."

"I know my cat. If we didn't take care of it right away, lockdown would've been more chaotic than it already was," Hamid explained.

"How about calling a vet and pet trainer to help? Maybe a professional to give us tips on how to reduce stressful situations for pets, how to keep them distracted..." Briar suggested.

"That's a great idea, Briar! Maybe Luke can help or recommend someone who can," Daphne mentioned.

"Or we just buy duct tape and give it to Stacy. Maybe she'll take the hint and manage to control that little brat," Briar joked.

As the group chuckled, the new building manager approached the table.

"The ninth floor residents are always laughing, huh... I feel inclined to join you almost every time," The tall and ash blond haired woman scrutinized each resident and stood next to Hamid.

"You don't say... How sweet of you!" Kyle replied, pretending to be pleasantly surprised.

"Of course! You are all so cheerful. It's a true pleasure to have residents like you," The building manager said, grinning widely at Hamid.

"We know," Briar answered, then mumbled to herself. "You almost make me hate my bff's partner for being nice even to people who don't deserve it..."

"What?" Stacy asked.

"Oh, it's nothing! Just an inside joke." Hamid promptly answered.

"About what?" The building manager asked.

"Cat memes!" Kyle declared.

"Turkish cat memes," Daphne added.

"Yeah, we have a lot of those." Hamid commented.

"I'm not very fond of cats. Or dogs. Or any animals for that matter..." The woman said.

"Yeah, you've made that pretty clear, Stacy," Daphne commented, giving the woman a subtle glare.

"My dove, please. We can handle this situation without confrontation." Hamid murmured.

"Maybe you can..." Daphne folded her arms.

"I don't hate all animals, of course..." Stacy continued to babble.

"We know." Kyle answered, forcing a smile.

"Your son, for example..." Briar mumbled, making the neighbor almost spit out his coffee.

"My Trevor got some gold fishes from his grandmother last week..."

"Oh, those poor fishes..." Daphne muttered.

"I know... It's like the fish killer girl from Finding Nemo..." Briar added.

"...They're very soothing, you know." Stacy affirmed as she tried to touch Hamid's shoulder.

"So I've heard. But I prefer pets with more capability to interact with me," Hamid commented, moving away from the woman to pour himself coffee.

"Oh, you brought Turkish coffee! How nice!" Stacy marvelled.

"I did. Your tea, my love." Hamid offered his partner a cup of tea.

"I see you two have different tastes... That's too bad..." Stacy said with a suggestive smile.

"That's called having your own personality," Daphne taunted, sipping her tea.

As Briar and Kyle suppressed giggles, Hamid wrapped an arm around his partner and smiled.

"I believe what Daph meant to say is that after over three years of relationship and almost two years living together, we learned to compromise."

Daphne gave him a side eye, but didn't argue.

"Words to live by," Kyle agreed.

"I see..." The building manager scrutinized the couple for a second then continued. "Anyway, before we continue the resident council meeting, can you pour some of your delicious Turkish coffee?"

"We're almost out of coffee, but I can—" Before he could answer, his phone began to buzz. "Sorry. I have to take this. My dove?" He gestured to the nearly empty carafe.

"You know what? Nevermind..." Stacy waved dismissively with her hand.

"Oh, don't worry. Daphne can make a killer cup of coffee." Hamid smiled at his partner and walked away to answer the call.

And to everyone's surprise, the lady didn't oppose it. "I'll be happy to make you a cup right now."

"But I—"

"Go back to your seat, Stacy." She gently pushed the building manager away from the table. "I'll take a cup to you."

As the woman walked towards the desk in front of the conference room, Daphne waved to her and turned back to the table to prepare more coffee.

Briar eyed her friend suspiciously. "Daph?"

"Yes?"

"Are you really making that tyrant coffee?"

After a few extra spoons of coffee, Daphne grabbed salt and pepper shakers and added them to the mug. "I sure am."

First week of December 2022

"She had it coming," Daphne said before taking a bite of the chicken.

"Aşkım..."

"She wanted to ban pets from our building!"

"She has no power to do that and you know it."

"She was hitting on you!"

"Was she?" He feigned shock.

The lady pursed her lips.

"She's not my type."

"Because she's blond, petty, and hates pets?"

"Yes. And more importantly, I only have eyes for British ladies from Edgewater." Hamid said, reaching for her hand across the table.

"Is that so?"

"They must be the daughter of the earl, of course."

"That's a very specific type of woman, Mr. Osmanoğlu." Daphne lifted a glass of water to her lips, hiding a smile.

"The heart wants what the heart wants," he replied, plastering his best smile. "Anyway..." Hamid then looked back at his phone. "I guess being a good neighbour is one more requirement you failed to accomplish."

"Whatever... Two items isn't a big deal. Proceed with the list."

"Okay." He continued to read the list. "Number six: donate to charity."

"Done."

"True. Number seven: be on your best behaviour all year."

"Done."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. What are you talking about?"

His grin widened.

January, 2022

Daphne winced as she walked out of the bedroom to join Hamid for lunch. Following her gynecologist orders, the lady decided to seek healthier choices to handle PMS. Yet, given how sore her legs were, she questioned herself how this could possibly be the healthier option.

"Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!" She cried out. "Ugh! Why even sitting down is so goddamn hard?"

Taking pity on his partner, Hamid helped Daphne sit on one of the kitchen stools. "It'll get better with time, aşkım. Have you stretched a bit today?"

"I did. It still hurts! And I'm not putting ice packs on my legs. It's too fucking cold today."

He arched an eyebrow in amusement.

"What?" She narrowed her eyes.

"Nothing. How about an Advil and a glass of water before lunch?"

"Don't we have anything stronger?"

"Ibuprofen will do just fine until the pharmacy sends the OTC cream I asked for. Here you go." Calmly, he handed her a packet of the medication and a glass of water.

"Thank you."

Once she took the meds, Hamid placed the dishes on the kitchen island and whistled as he put down two bowls with cat and dog food for their pets.

Her mouth watered at the sight of grilled salmon with mustard yogurt sauce, brown rice with cauliflower and lentils salad.

"This looks nice! I'm a bit surprised you added cauliflower though."

"I can make an effort sometimes..." He gave his shoulders as he sat across from her.

"You don't have to eat it if you don't want to."

"I can survive a meal with stinky vegetables. Let's dig in."

Whilst the couple chatted between bites and small interactions with their pets, Daphne hummed savouring pieces of salmon with the sauce.

"Hamidciğim, this sauce is marvelous!"

"Really? Do you see yourself having another meal like this again?"

"Maybe..."

"Maybe?" He grinned.

"Hold your horses, mate. I'm not becoming a gym rat like you. I barely survived jogging with Annabelle."

"Healthy meals are always a good start to a healthier lifestyle. By the way, I have to ask... Why jogging?"

"You know I'm not a sports enthusiast. What else could I do? And jogging seemed easy enough... Ann said 'just put on some gym shoes, training clothes and bring a water bottle'."

"Just because something looks easy it doesn't mean it actually is."

She made a face.

"Aşkım, perhaps you could've chosen something you like to do. It'll be easier to stick to it in the long run."

"Like what?"

"You love dancing. Why didn't you take a dance class? Plus, there are other exercises you might like to try like pilates, yoga..."

Pilates? Yoga? What was he insinuating with that?

The lady narrowed her eyes. "Why? Because it's what girls usually do?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You think I'm weak, don't you?"

"What?" His brows furrowed in confusion.

"You do. That's why you're telling me to start yoga and pilates instead of jogging."

"Daphne, it was just a suggestion. Why would you assume I think you're weak?"

"Because you just did!" She snapped.

"I don't know how you came to that conclusion, but if you keep assuming the worst from me, I'm not sure if I want to. Now, if you excuse me..."

Hamid stood up carrying his plate, threw the remaining food in the trashcan and disappeared into the hallway.

"Where are you going?!" She yelled.

Already wearing a black leather jacket and holding his car keys, Hamid returned to the kitchen.

"Out."

"Out?"

"I have plans for later."

Daphne closed her eyes as she inhaled sharply. It was infuriating how often he simply stood up and left in the middle of an argument, even though he wasn't the kind of person who walked out of a fight just like that. Did he do that to piss her off?

"Have a good meal, Daphne."

Once the front door was slammed shut, Daphne screamed in frustration, knowing no one could hear her. Yet, in response, Maya hissed at her whilst Drake barked in clear distress.

"Shut up!" She yelled once more, making her dog hide in a small corner in the kitchen and the cat hiss once more.

The lady frowned. She didn't yell at her pets. Why was she so explosive all of a sudden?

As she finally understood the reason behind her outburst, Daphne closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. Now certainly was a good time to seek some more effective ways to handle her mood swings.

...

Daphne's fingers pressed against the clay as she tried to shape the lump with her hands. Sculpture was a form of art the viscountess rarely tried. Molding things wasn't her forte. It was too messy to her liking. But while looking for ways of managing her mood swings, she recalled the day one of her professors mentioned the benefits of sculpting clay to reduce stress and anxiety and decided to give it a shot. After what happened earlier, she was willing to try anything.

Just then, the faint sound of the door closing followed by Drake's barks reached her ears. She furrowed her brows and glanced at the clock on the wall. Hamid was supposed to be watching a football game with his friends. He wouldn't be back anytime soon. Maybe she was mistaken. But once she heard his voice talking to their pets, she knew. It wasn't just her imagination.

Joy and guilt grew within her as she stood quiet, waiting for any sound he'd make as he walked around the flat. Was he mad at her? No, anger wasn't an emotion he nurtured for long. But he could be upset. Or disappointed. She honestly didn't know which one was worse.

As the sound of the TV reached her ears, she went to the bathroom to wash her hands. Perhaps it wasn't the right time to walk out of the studio. But she couldn't wait. She needed to see him.

In the lounge, Hamid sat on the sofa, grumbling in Turkish at the players on the TV and taking a few swings of beer.

Hiding in a corner, Daphne gazed at him for a few seconds, chewing on a nail. She should say something. Preferably an apology. But what if she messed it up again? What if he didn't want to talk? He was watching the game after all. Ah, the guilt...

"I thought you said you'd stop chewing on your nails."

Her eyes went round in surprise. Wasn't he supposed to be watching TV?

"Are you lurking in the corner?"

"No! I— Um..." She looked down at her hands. "I thought you were going to watch the game with Yusuf, Bart and Vee."

"Annabelle had food poisoning, so Vee stayed with her."

"Oh... What about Yusuf and Bart?"

"Bart said I was too cranky today and Yusuf told me to go try to fix whatever was bothering me."

"Are you going to fix it?"

"I have to. I won't be able to sleep at night not knowing if you feel cramps and might need tea, a hot bag or a hug tonight. And I know you won't ask for help if we're still fighting."

The lady fiddled with the hem of her blouse as her eyes began to water. It was so annoying to realise how well he knew her.

"Can you come here and help me fix it?"

Daphne slowly walked to the sofa and took a seat beside him.

"I'm sorry for lashing out at you. I misunderstood what you said for something silly Ann used to say about Felicity Holloway back in A-Level years."

"What did she say?"

"Yoga and pilates are for people who can't handle a real sport."

"I don't know if I agree with that... Have you seen Alisha's and Sevim's videos doing yoga on Pictagram?"

"But I'm not going to be upside down in the first week of classes."

"Just like you're not going to be running one kilometre by the end of this week if you choose to jog again. You'll start slow with everything."

"Except dancing..."

"Well, isn't it a coincidence that dancing was the first exercise I suggested?" He gave a knowing look.

"Ugh, fine... I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. I'll go with you to the gym and ask the receptionist about the dance classes."

"You're forgiven, my dove."

As he leaned in for a kiss, Hamid pulled back and brushed a thumb on her chin. "Is it mud mask day again?"

"No... Why?"

"You have clay on your face."

"Oh!" The lady stood up and rushed to the nearest bathroom. "I was trying to make a clay sculpture. Touching clay keeps the person grounded and reduces mood swings. It's very soothing," she shouted whilst cleaning her chin and left cheek.

"Really? How's it going?"

"I couldn't do more than a weird ball and a lot of mess in the studio. But it's better than jogging."

He chortled. "Would you do it again?"

"Not without a few sculpting classes."

"No problem then." Hamid reached for his mobile on the coffee table and began to search for sculpture art classes.

...

Late May, 2022

"Yes. Absolutely! Yes, I can!"

Daphne's whole face lit up as the art curator who interviewed her for the internship spot in a famous art gallery in Ithaca gave her a few instructions before finishing the call. Getting any job at any art gallery was something the lady dreamed about for years. But working for one of her favourite contemporary artists was so much more than she could've asked for.

"Thank you! See you on Monday!"

Once she hung up the phone, Hamid abruptly stopped the car and turned to her.

"Monday? What happens on Monday?"

"Not much..." She answered, pretending to be calm. "Just my first day as a hostess/tour guide at State Of The Art Gallery."

"I knew it!" Hamid immediately unbuckled his seat belt and cupped Daphne's face with both hands to give her a tender kiss. "Congratulations, aşkım! I told you that spot belonged to you."

"Thank you," she answered with a timid smile.

"We have to celebrate it. How about lunch at that Italian restaurant you like?"

"But you just said we should eat something lighter because of all the junk food we had last night."

"Aşkım, you just got your first job at the most prestigious art gallery in Ithaca. We need pasta, good cheese and the best vintage we can find to celebrate!"

Daphne giggled in response. Over the years, Hamid became the first person she shared dreams and goals with. His enthusiasm and support for her accomplishments, no matter how big or small they were, were infectious.

As he started the car again and drove off, using a few voice commands, he continued. "You have to tell Lord Vincent about it. He'll be so proud of you."

Daphne smiled shyly. "I'll call him when we get home."

"Call the guys too. We have to go out for drinks later."

"I don't know... Maybe they already have plans."

"That they will cancel as soon as you tell them," he insisted. "Aşkım, this is your first job. The one that will help start your career! We have to celebrate now and the day you get your first payment. And you know the rules. All drinks will be on you that day."

"What?!" She glanced at her partner in horror. "No! Have you seen how much Ann, Vee and Bartie drink? I can't spend my entire first salary just on booze and snacks! Plus Edmund might come too! He's the worst!"

He chuckled. "It's fine. I can afford our monthly bills by myself. Besides, I doubt Lord Vincent will cut off your allowance until you get a higher paying job."

Daphne didn't say a word as she shifted uneasily in her seat. She knew the money wouldn't be an issue for them. She simply couldn't help wondering if she would manage to keep that job.

As soon as the couple arrived at the restaurant and took their seats, the lady grew quieter. She wanted to be happy. She got an amazing job opportunity. She'd be working with something she loves just a year before graduation. However...

"Daphne?"

"Huh?"

Whilst the waiter expectantly waited for her to drink some of the wine and give her opinion, Daphne noticed Hamid's gaze, studying her face intently. Why was it so easy for him to know something wasn't right? This was one of those moments when she wished Hamid wasn't so perceptive.

Once the waiter poured more wine and left, Hamid placed his glass on the table and gauged her expression one more time before speaking. "For someone who just achieved their first professional accomplishment, you don't seem happy."

"I am." She lifted her glass of Chardonnay to her lips, so glad they were big enough to hide most of her face. "I just think it's a bit soon to celebrate."

"Soon?! The job is yours! You start in three days and it's Friday. It's the perfect time!"

"Yeah, but what if I don't go that well there? What if they fire me in less than a month?"

His brows furrowed in confusion. "Why would they do that?"

Color drained from her face as she held her glass mid air. How could her tongue slip like that? She barely started drinking!

"Aşkım, is something wrong?"

As Hamid reached for her hand, his brows furrowed in worry. Perhaps, it was time to tell him the truth. If things turned as bad as she expected, he would find out anyway.

"I did something..."

"Okay..."

"Something that can compromise my job at SOTA Gallery."

So many emotions seemed to cloud Hamid's handsome features it was hard to tell what he was thinking.

"Isn't there a way to undo or fix what you did?"

"Maybe... But it's more complicated than I thought it would be."

Hamid moved closer to the table, looking more confused than before, lowering his voice. "Daphne, what did you do?"

"I..." She looked down at her hands. It was too embarrassing to admit it. "I fluffed up my resume and lied to the art curator who interviewed me."

"And...?"

"And?!" Daphne stared back at him in horror. "There's no 'and'! Things are bad enough as it is."

The diplomat let out a chuckle in relief. "Aşkım, tons of people fluff up their resumes and lie a little during the interview. I told you I only got the job at UK Parliament because they needed someone who could speak Korean fluently and I lied saying I could."

"But you learned enough to keep up a conversation with the ambassador of South Korea."

"No, I didn't. I was lucky Mr. Park has a good sense of humor and found my knowledge on K-dramas amusing," he corrected. "But back to you, what did you lie about?"

"Oil painting."

Hamid pressed his lips together, but the corners of his mouth were still lifted up.

"You're laughing."

"No," he said, doing his best to look serious.

"You are! I can see it. You're laughing at me." Daphne scowled.

"I can't help it... It brings back some interesting memories..." He smirked.

"Will you ever stop mocking me because of that night?" She grumbled and then forced a smile as the waiter returned with their entrees.

"My dove, it's okay," he said, pausing to take a bit of his entree. "You thought the studio had the proper ventilation for you to try oil painting. It was an honest mistake. Did I expect to find you dancing to Jefferson Airplane half naked in the lounge and saying you finally understood Sharknado? No. But it was—"

"Absolutely ridiculous? Embarrassing?" Something ludicrous that only an intoxicated person would do?"

"Perhaps for you. I'm still bummed my phone battery died before I recorded your speech about vampires being real," he teased.

"Hamid!" She hissed.

"I'd just record the audio. Your theory was too good to be forgotten."

Daphne heaved a tired sigh. She might lose the biggest opportunity of her career so far and her partner was mocking her for the night she accidentally got high on oil painting and Port wine.

"Why did you lie about that anyway? You have enough artistic skills and experience to boast about for days."

"The art curator, Ms. Giordano, has specialized studies in oil painting. I thought about impressing her with what I know about it."

"And you succeeded. You may not be an expert, but it isn't a subject you're completely illiterate about. You can keep up appearances whilst you learn more about it."

"But I told her I have a painting and she said she'd like to see it."

"That's not a lie. You have a painting."

"That thing I painted that night is rubbish! I shouldn't have let you keep it."

"But The Attack of Vampire Sirens is one of my favourite paintings nowadays! Annabelle liked it too. And it gives you something to show to one of your bosses."

"I'm not showing that thing to her!"

"You have to," he warned. "You have no other work in oil painting. And you have to keep up the lie. You shall never admit you lied just to get the job. Never!"

"I know! Everyone says Laura Giordano is mean, but she was kinda nice to me during the interview. If I say I lied, she might never look in the face again..." Daphne whined.

"Well, let's hope she didn't mean what she said or you'll have to paint again."

"No! Oil painting is evil!"

"It's summer... You can paint outdoors. Preferably in the balcony. Or anywhere windy. With no alcoholic beverages near you..." He suggested as his lips curled upwards again.

Her shoulders slumped.

"Aşkım, there's nothing to worry about. It was just a little lie you said so your mean boss would like you. If she's really that mean, she won't even remember what she said."

"Really?"

"No. But now you can finally share The Attack of Vampire Sirens on your social media." Hamid wiggled his brows.

"Ugh..." Daphne hid her eyes with one hand in frustration.

...

September, 2022

Daphne rubbed a few drops of oil between her hands and smoothened the length of her hair before pulling it into a ponytail. As she checked herself in the mirror, her nose twisted in annoyance as the dark tresses covered her sports bra. Has her hair ever been that long before?

She looked down at the long locks and moved her face from one side to another. Perhaps the issue wasn't the length. During her teenhood, she had time to change haircut and colours whenever she saw fit. Lately, however, she barely had enough time to braid her hair on her way to work or uni.

Staring at herself in the mirror again, her brows furrowed in concentration.

Do I really want to make any changes now?

She then walked back to her vanity dresser and grabbed her phone. Maybe Pinterest could help.

Among the many pictures on the search, a selfie in particular caught her attention. Sitting on a salon chair, Felicity Holloway smiled as the most popular hairstylist of Edgewater pressed his face next to hers. One could almost mistake them for being close friends. But Daphne knew better than that.

Initially recommended by Lady Dominique, Théo Cellier was a pleasant surprise to the viscountess when she moved to Edgewater. With his impressive skills on cutting and colouring hair, his knowledge about the latest trends in fashion and art and sharp sense of humor, Daphne grew fond of Mr. Cellier for a while.

Yet, their friendship didn't last long. Unfortunately, Mr. Cellier's beauty spa was popular among gentry folk for more reasons other than just a nice hair change due to his terrible habit of gossiping. Even this most innocent conversation a client of his had over the phone could be spread across the country within minutes. And much to her disappointment, the Foredales often were a common topic of the hairstylist's and his clients' malicious comments.

As she accidentally tapped on the picture instead of scrolling past it, it redirected to the hairstylist's Pictagram profile. Felicity's selfie was new, but with relatively low engagement, given the number of followers in the hairstylist's profile and the complexity of work done. She did look pretty with a cut that framed her face and a few light ash locks that brought more light to her sandy blond hair.

She snickered as her thumbs typed a message to DM Briar. But before she could hit send, she felt something gently falling over her feet. As she looked down, her dog whined, staring at her with pleading eyes whilst his walking harness and leash rested on her feet.

The lady smacked her forehead with one hand as she remembered why she was getting ready to leave in the first place.

"I'm sorry, sweetie! I got a little sidetracked here..."

She scratched his fur and put the harness on Drake.

"I'll put on a shirt and training shoes and we'll be out in a minute, okay?"

As the lady walked into the closet to finish getting dressed, the dog barked in excitement, she didn't mind to look. Drake was one of those extra friendly dogs who got easily excited about almost anything. He certainly found something in the room to play with. As long as he wasn't trying to eat her moisturizer again, it'd be fine.

"Ready to go? Oh hey, girl!" She smiled at Maya coming out from under the bed to rub her body against Daphne's legs. "I thought you'd sleep in the balcony all morning. You don't mind staying alone for a few minutes, right? Hamid will be back from the gym soon."

Whilst Maya stretched herself, one of her paws touched the screen of Daphne's phone and the cat laid on top of the device, the lady scanned the room, searching for it.

"Odd... I left it right here..." She said, approaching her vanity dresser.

Before she could search a bit more, the dog began to whine again.

"Oh well... I guess we'll enjoy the scenery together today, Drake," she said, bending down to scratch the cat's fur and picking up the leash to take the dog for a walk. A few minutes without her phone wouldn't do her any harm, right?

...

About one hour later

Daphne closed the door behind her to help Drake out the harness. Usually, the dog arrived home a bit calmer. But whenever he sensed the fragrance of Hamid's cologne in the air, it was harder to get him to settle down.

"I know what you want, but wait a minute! I can't take it off if you don't stay quiet."

"Stop torturing my dog and just let him come to me already," Hamid joked as he approached the entryway.

The dog began to shake his entire body, waggling his tail in joy.

"Great. Now it'll be impossible to get him out of the harness."

"I'll take it off when he's calmer." The diplomat then crouched down and beamed at the dog. "Gel, oğlum! Gel!²"

Daphne pursed her lips, but set Drake free to rush to his other pet parent.

"How was the walk?"

"Good. The weather was nice, Drake is getting stronger. We walked for twenty minutes today."

"Excellent! Well done, oğlum!" He then gazed at her with a curious look whilst still petting the dog. "Is everything okay, aşkım?"

"Yeah."

"You didn't bump into any unpleasant acquaintances today, did you?"

"Huh?"

"You know... People you dislike or who can easily make your blood boil such as your boss, Theresa Sutton... Felicity Holloway..."

Daphne made a face. "Good God, no! Mrs. Giordano is still in Italy being cruel in Italian to other Italians. Theresa and Felicity haven't returned to classes yet... Why?"

"Bartie and Briar just sent me a Pictagram post that made me wonder what could've happened so early in the morning for you to make such a nasty comment about anyone online."

"I did what?"

"Well, you are half British and you do have your grandmother's passive-aggressive sense of humor..." He rambled on, scratching his stubble in thought.

"Passive-aggressive?! But you always say I'm adorable!"

"Of course, you are, my dove." Hamid then stood up, pulled her into a hug and kissed her temple before he mumbled. "Most of the time..."

"Excuse me?!" She pulled away with a scowl. "Hamid, what on earth are you talking about?"

The diplomat fished his phone out of his trousers pocket to show it to Daphne.

Her eyes went round and jaw fell slack in horror. Among the comments on Felicity's selfie on Mr. Cellier's profile, the top comment was Daphne's.

"Too bad no amount of bleach and purple shampoo can make her soul as bright and shiny as her hair..."

"But I didn't post that!" She blurted.

"Are you sure? I've seen you say worse to her face..."

"I always try to be polite, even if she doesn’t deserve it. She is the one who starts with the insults. I wrote that to DM Briar!"

"Did you mistake the DM button for the enter a comment button again?"

"No! I didn't send it! I don't even know where my phone is!"

Hamid arched an eyebrow. "You don't know?"

"It's somewhere in the bedroom... I didn't have time to check properly. Drake started whining again, I didn't want to frustrate him now that he has more energy to walk."

"I'm not sure what happened, but we have to find your phone and a way out of this scandal because you're trending."

"What?!"

"Well, not you... #bleachgate is trending on Twitter NY and UK."

"Bleach gate?"

"Her classmates began to tweet about it, then our friends joined in telling how Felicity bullies anyone she might see as beneath her and the story spread. Gossip blogs here and UK tabloids are delighted with all the freely given content."

Daphne quickly read the tweets in horror. "Oh my god..."

"I gotta say that's quite an accomplishment to be trending right now. It's already noon in the UK and there's a Premier League match being aired right now."

Her shoulders slumped. "Hamidciğim, I don't want to be trending on anything. It was supposed to be just another dumb joke shared in a private chat with a friend."

"It's alright. We can fix this. Go look for your phone. I'll reach out to my contacts at The Sun and The Daily Mirror to see what can be done about this."

"Thank you."

After a quick search in the master bedroom, Daphne found the phone on the floor, under a very sleepy and grumpy Maya, who was clearly displeased to be woken up. Now in possession of her phone again, the lady read the news, tweets mentioning her and the tag and DMs from several people from her secondary school years, Felicity's classmates at Cornell, whilst Hamid worked from his phone and laptop.

"Oh... This is bad..." She commented, whilst scrolling through the tag search.

"It sure is..." Hamid added as he sat back on the sofa. "Three former members of Lochdale staff came forward to sue Felicity for racial profiling and harassment.

Daphne's head snapped to the side in shock. "Seriously?!"

"What? Didn't you expect the girl who bullied you and all of our closest friends for years to not be racist or not harass her parents' staff?" He gave her a knowing look.

"That's not what I meant... I just didn't know that accidentally commenting on Pictagram instead of DMing Briar could've caused this."

"I guess no one did..."

"What do I do now?"

"Not much. Mr. Cellier deleted the picture, but screen captures of the selfie and your comment are everywhere. You can come forward in your own profile and say your phone was hacked and apologise or you can leave it be?"

"Lying doesn't seem like a good idea..."

"I agree. Anyone who digs a bit on these British gossip blogs will figure out you two have a history and might see the 'hacked account' or the apology as a lie."

"But can I really leave it be?"

"Yes. You have no obligation to comment any further about it and your opinion about Felicity is the least of her problems right now. She can try to sue you for defamation, of course. But given that you won two lawsuits against her not so long ago and with all these new allegations against her, her lawyers will most likely advise her not to go through with it."

"Okay. I'm not going to say a word about it."

"Good choice." He nodded. "You owe me a kiss, by the way."

Daphne moved closer and wrapped her arms around his neck as she kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you again for doing this."

"No problem, aşkım."

Sighing in relief, she reached for her tea and continued to scroll through social media.

"You do know that not saying anything further also means not hitting likes on memes and other shitposts about it, don't you?"

"I'm not doing anything..."

"You just hit like on Annabelle's tweet of Bugs Bunny wishing you all a pleasant evening meme about the bleach gate."

"But—"

He stared at her and shook his head.

"Ugh... Fine..." she grumbled.

First week of December 2022

"That's so unfair! I was PMSing! I can't control my hormones," Daphne whined.

"Yes, you can. You have improved significantly since you chose to have healthier habits. But okay. Let's say Santa could excuse you for snapping at your loving life partner for no reason. Yelling at our fur babies though?" He tutted.

"But I apologised!" The lady pouted.

He chuckled.

"Okay, but you can't blame me for lying about my oil painting skills. You said it yourself it wasn't all a lie."

"You actually told your boss your favourite technique was impasto."

"But it's the truth!"

"You hadn't tried impasto until then. You just said it because you knew Mrs. Giordano is a Van Gogh fan. And don't even get me started on the bleach gate," he pointed out.

"It was an accident!"

"Posting as a comment was an accident. But what you said...."

"The woman made my life hell for years! What's a little dissing compared to what she did to me?" She insisted.

"I know. And I'm not judging you." He raised his hands in defence.

"Thank you."

"However..."

"Ugh..." She rolled her eyes.

"Aşkım, you are Christian. There are several Bible verses about loving and doing good for your enemies. I don't think a Christian entity known for doing good deeds to everybody would overlook that."

She folded her arms.

"You'll have to face that fact you'd be on the naughty list this year."

"All right!" Daphne scowled. "I don't mind if I only get coal for Christmas."

"Don't you?" Hamid raised an eyebrow.

"I'm an artist. I'd see it as an encouragement to make more coal sketches," she replied, doing her best not to look annoyed. It was just a silly test anyway. Besides, if she didn't want to be mocked for the rest of the month, admitting he was right would be for the best.

But before the subject died down, a sly grin played on his lips as he mumbled. "Hmm... Interesting..."

Something told her he wouldn't let go so easily.

County of Edgewater, December 25th 2022

Laughter echoed along Edgewater manor as The Foredales and closest friends ambled toward the lounge. Christmas mornings usually were the best part of the day for Daphne. Though they considered it an event, the family now was more inclined to skip formalities. Aside from everyone helping with the vast and delightful breakfast, they exchanged gifts and chatted until it was time to prepare for luncheon. She was more than happy to go back home and partake in this new family tradition.

As Lord Vincent, Lady Dominique, the Dalys and Veronica's mother chatted by the fire, the young ones gathered around the Christmas tree to exchange gifts.

"Darling, this is beautiful!" Bartholomew gushed over the glass bird house.

"Now the birds will always keep you company when I'm not around," Yusuf said, smiling fondly at his partner.

A unison "aww..." erupted among the women whilst Edmund looked somewhat confused.

"How will that attract birds?" Edmund mumbled in confusion.

"Put bird food and water on the little space in there and hang the house on a window or balcony for the birds to come," Daphne explained.

"Oh... that's cool." Edmund nodded.

"And really cute," Veronica added.

"And so romantic..." Briar swooned at the smiles Yusuf and Bart shared.

"I guess Bart got all his gifts. You can choose who's next now, my friend," Hamid suggested, sharing a secretive look with Bartholomew.

"Hm..." Bartholomew looked around the group and declared. "I say it's Daph's turn now."

"I'm cool with that," Daphne said with a grin.

"In this case, I'll go first." Hamid then reached for a large box under the tree and handed it to his partner.

The lady beamed at the sight of the pretty gift box and carefully undid the ribbon tying it. But as soon as she removed a few paper tissues, Daphne pursed her lips.

"That doesn't look like a 'aw... thank you, love' face," Veronica commented.

"I agree," Yusuf nodded.

"What is it?" Briar then grabbed the gift and glanced at the couple in confusion. "You gave her coal?"

"Me? Noooo..." He shook his head, pretending not to know about it. "Krampus dropped by last night and left this gift for her."

"So I guess Krampus also left a note saying 'Welcome to the naughty list, Daphne!'," Annabelle added, showing off the note that was inside the box.

"I bet he meant every word," Hamid said with a mischievous smile whilst his partner glared daggers at him.

"Is it me or does it look like a sex joke?" Veronica asked.

"What?!" Edmund blurted in horror.

"I thought so too," Bartholomew joked.

"If there wasn't a note allegedly from Krampus, I swear it'd be a sex joke," Yusuf teased.

"Maybe this is some sort of fetish related to the holidays," Annabelle surmised.

"Oh, for the love of God..." Edmund grimaced in discomfort.

"I don't know. I've seen fetish related to Santa, string lights, gifts. But Krampus?" Briar made a face.

"Oh, girl... If I got a nickel for every weird fetish and turn-on I've heard about..." Veronica taunted.

"And coming from these two, you never know..." Bart continued.

"Are my ears bleeding? I can feel them bleeding..." Edmund whinged as he shifted uneasily in his seat whilst the others (minus Daphne) laughed.

"All right, that's enough! Can we move on now?" Daphne cut off, still struggling to hide her annoyance.

"I know that face. You're in big trouble, Osmanoğlu," Annabelle whispered to Hamid, who simply chuckled.

"I think that's kind of the point." Yusuf tittered.

"Okay, let's move along. Here you go, Daph," Bartholomew then handed the lady a medium size box.

"Thank you, Bartie." The lady smiled in gratitude. But as she opened her gift, Daphne arched an eyebrow at her friend. "Bart?"

Bartholomew shared a glance with Hamid then pressed his lips together to stifle a laugh as his eyes met Daphne's.

"Ugh..." The lady rolled her eyes.

"What?" Briar asked as she peaked at the gift. "I don't get it... You like getting art supplies."

"This is different and both of them know why."

Bartholomew and Hamid chuckled.

The others then glanced at the gift box and found an art supplies kit for charcoal drawings.

"Well, at least now we know it's not a sex joke," Yusuf commented.

"Are you sure?" Veronica teased.

"Hey!" Yusuf whined.

The others doubled over.

"Can somebody go next? I don't feel like getting coal anymore," Daphne grumbled.

"My dove, you're not getting coal from everyone."

"Do you expect to believe you didn't tell everybody?"

"I didn't know." Annabelle raised her hands in defence.

"Me neither," Briar answered. "I would've joined the prank though..."

"Me too. You should've told us, mate..." Edmund joked.

"Sorry, eniştem³... Next time, I'll give you two a call," Hamid said with a playful grin.

"Excuse me?!" Daphne snapped.

"I'm joking... You're not mad at me, are you?" Hamid asked.

"Of course I am! You're mocking me, you got Bartie on board for this and I didn't get a single real gift until now."

"Hey, mine is a real gift!" Bartholomew protested.

"You're on thin ice, Bart. Very thin ice." Daphne hissed.

Hamid then wrapped his arms around Daphne, who didn't hug him back, but didn't pull away either.

"My dove, you are getting real gifts. Great ones, as far as I know. But when you said you wouldn't mind getting coal, I couldn't resist it. It's too much fun to tease you."

The others laughed.

"Will you forgive, aşkım?" Hamid murmured, kissing Daphne's shoulder to make his request more compelling.

"I don't know..." She said, pretending not to be affected by him. "Do I get a real gift from you?"

"Yes."

"How good is it?"

"It's very shiny, expensive, it has a colourless gemstone usually weighed in carats."

"Fine..." Daphne replied, doing her best not to smile. "I'll think about it..."

As Hamid kissed Daphne's cheek several times, Bartholomew prompted. "You know, diamonds chemical composition are quite similar to coal, so if you think about it—"

"Your thin ice is melting, Bart!" Daphne glared.

Laughter erupted in the group before they continued to share Christmas gifts.

______

¹ Vay, vay, vay: Turkish expression of surprise 

² "Gel, oğlum! Gel!" : "Come to me, son!"

³ Eniştem: my brother-in-law

[storyofmychoices]

Shadows and Deception: Parts I & II

[Series Masterlist] [My Choices Masterlists]

Books: The Royal Romance (post-TRF), Crimes of Passion I, Desire & Decorum, Blades of Light and Shadow I

Characters: Trystan Thorne (M, no race mentioned), Marguerite Thorne, Olivia Nevrakis, Queen Amalas, Maxwell Beaumont, Daniel, King Liam (no race mentioned), Tyril Starfury, Nia Ellarious, Prince Hamid

Pairings: Olivia Nevrakis x Queen Amalas ; M!Trystan Thorne x (no gender given) MC (mentioned) ; King Liam x Riley (mentioned)

Rating/Warnings: Teen, mentions of blood, stab wound, knives/daggers (no graphic descriptions)

Word Count: Part I: ~500; Part II: ~600 : total ~1,100

Summary: In the heart of Cordonia's grand ballroom, the joyous celebration is broken by a piercing scream, a dead body, and a room full of royal suspects.

I. Every man at the bottom of his heart believes that he is a born detective. (John Buchan)

The grand ballroom of the royal palace in Cordonia thrived with laughter and music, an elegant sight to behold. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ornate ceiling, casting a warm golden glow over the festivities below. The walls, painted in a regal combination of light blue and gold, added to the grandeur of it all. The air was filled with the soft strains of classical music accompanied by the merriment of the guests and the occasional sound of clinking champagne flutes.

Trystan Thorne, the exiled prince of Drakovia, stood amidst the revelry, basking in the indulgent event. It had been far too long since he had attended a proper ball, and yet he missed the thrill and danger of New York.

Trystan sipped his champagne, the bubbles dancing on his tongue. He twirled a small silver key between his fingers, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He watched as the unusual trinket glinted in the lights, thinking back to how it had made its way to him earlier that evening. A party guest had bumped into him, planting the key in his jacket pocket. When he turned to confront them, they were simply gone. He tucked the key safely back in his pocket—a mystery he was certain to solve before the night was out.

Olivia Nevrakis, the Duchess of Lythikos, glided through the throngs, her graceful movements offering no sign of the ornate daggers concealed beneath her elegant attire. Her keen gaze swept the ballroom, analyzing each guest with a shrewd eye, ready for any trouble they might find, and perhaps, even instigating a bit of her own.

Amalas, the enigmatic Queen of Monterisso, watched the festivities with a calculating gaze, much like that of her girlfriend. Known as the spy queen, she understood that knowledge was power, and her charming smile masked her relentless pursuit of secrets. Her sharp eyes scanned the crowd, seemingly aware of every whisper and hidden conversation. Hushed warnings of her deep influences and secret alliances found their way to her. A smirk pulled on her lips; if only people truly knew what they thought barely scratched the surface of her reach.

Tyril Starfury, the Elven Lord of House Starfury, stood tall and vigilant against the ballroom wall. He questioned his invitation to the royal ball, and even further his own agreement to attend. He had no interest in celebrations of such kind, which was to say, any forced large gathering of people. Tyril's noble demeanor masked his magical prowess, while his sword reminded guests of his commitment to protect the realm from any and all threats: magical or human. He continued his watch—a silent guardian. 

Prince Hamid, the Imperial Prince of the Ottoman Empire, exuded elegance and charisma. His noted wealth and good fortune were the talk of the ball. His formal demeanor hid his tender heart, but his infectious smile and penchant for gentlemanly flirtation drew admirers from all over the kingdoms to his table. 

The festivities continued in abundance, celebrating the birth of Princess Ariana of Cordonia—King Liam and Queen Riley's third child. Despite the laughter, enchantment, and cheers filling the halls of the Cordonian Palace, a dark cloud loomed over the proceedings, ready to send a thunderous shockwave through the kingdom, changing what should have been a joyous event into a deadly affair.

II. Have patience and endure; this unhappiness will one day be beneficial. (Ellery Queen)

The sharp, unnerving scream of the priestess, Nia Ellarious, pierced through the grand ballroom, instantly shattering the joyous atmosphere. The music ceased, and the air grew heavy with uncertainty and tension as guests turned their attention toward the commotion.

Nia stumbled back, her eyes wide with horror, as others rushed to her side. Their gasps of horror filled the room as their gaze fell upon the lifeless body sprawled in the shadows. A pool of crimson seeped from beneath him, a fresh knife wound evident, but no blade was found at the scene.

“What do we have here?” Maxwell Beaumont, the charismatic Lord of House Beaumont, known for his love of dancing and squids, swiftly made his way to the scene, hoping to be of assistance. His normally jovial expression turned grave as he approached the lifeless body. His eyes widened in shock and disbelief as he recognized the face before him. "No—" He barely uttered, words failing him for the first time in his life. 

"Who is he?" A guardsman asked. 

"He looks familiar," another replied.

"Daniel." Maxwell's voice was faint, a mix of sorrow and disbelief. "He is a waiter—was—he was a waiter... and my friend." He knelt beside Daniel, taking care not to step in the blood. "I can't believe it. Why Daniel?" His eyes closed, the weight of the situation sinking in. Maxwell's mind raced, and his thoughts swirled with concern and determination.

 "Are you certain, Lord Beaumont?" Finding no reply, the guard repeated his question. 

"Yes." He nodded, inhaling deeply before standing and taking a step back.

"I hate to question you, but it's my duty," the guard began. "When was the last time you saw Daniel?"

"This morning." He shook his head. "No, it was just before the party." 

"What was the nature of your conversation?"

“If I knew this—I wouldn’t have—” He began uneasily. “You're going to find out anyway—" 

"Out of my way." She brushed through the crowds. "You've got to be kidding me—" Olivia Nevrakis approached Maxwell with a sardonic smile, her tone laced with subtle superiority as she cut off the rest of his answer to the guard. "What do you think you're doing? Trying to solve murders now? Leave that to those with proper experience. I trust your talents are better suited for organizing grand parties—” she gestured around to the lavish decorations. “—and indulging in extravagant games of whimsy."

Maxwell nodded thoughtfully and recomposed himself. "How right you are.” A hint of his playful tone returning. Without another word, he stepped away. The corner of his lips turned up as he left her with the body.

"That was too easy," she mumbled, her gaze narrowing on him. Olivia took a few steps forward, following his pace before halting. Her head shook in amusement at her raised suspicions. She almost laughed at herself, 'Beaumont couldn't hurt a fly! How could he have had anything to do with this?'

As she readied to turn back to the more pressing issue, something caught her eye, a glimmer of silver on the floor near her feet. She knelt down and reached for it, her fingers closed around a used syringe. With a quick, discreet motion, she concealed the needle, determined to investigate if and how it fits into this unfolding puzzle. 

Her body straightened, and her tone became assertive as she quickly took control of the scene, aiding her skills to the ever-incompetent guard. She barely took note of the Thorne siblings lingering separately around the periphery, each taking mental notes of their own careful observations.

[Continue...]

Thanks for reading! I hope you are enjoying the set up for the mystery. Parts I & II introduce some of the characters that we'll see more in the story and give you the first look at the mystery at hand. Tomorrow I'll post the next two parts which will begin to look at rumors circulating the ballroom about possible motives and see who are being considered people of interest. Then things get really interesting on Sunday, when the murder weapon is found and an unlikely prime suspect emerges! The conclusion will be posted Monday! Happy sleuthing!

Giveaway Information: complete details here

3 winners will be chose for minimalist portraits with @bayleedrawsx

Any one who comments on or reblogs with a comment with their theories, thoughts, ideas, ect. on any and all sections of the story will be entered in the giveaway. (1 entry per section)

Prompts: For @choicesbookclub COP ; @choicesmonthlychallenge Private Investigator Event

Special thanks: to JenBeaumontJones (IG) for beta reading

[choicesmonthlychallenge]

12: Dance

[July Prompt List] || [July Daily Masterlists]

If you don’t see your work included on today or any other day’s posts, please message @lovealexhunt​ a link to your content. Tags/notifications are not currently coming through to this blog. 

⟢Blades of Light & Shadow:⟢

Drabble [Tyril x M!OC] by @lilyoffandoms​ 

Passing Shower [ Mal x F!MC] by @storyofmychoices​

⟢Desire & Decorum:⟢

Second Chances - chapter twenty: Absolutely Smitten [Hamid x F!OC] by @missameliep​ 

⟢The Royal Romance:⟢

Everlasting Dance [Maxwell x F!MC] by @chocopeppermintcake​

Learning How to Waltz [Liam x F!MC] by @phoenixrising308​ *18+ Only*

[katslitg]

Random prince Hamid hcs because there is no one I love as much as this man:

He loves it when MC puts in effort to know more about his culture, hence why he helped her learn Turkish after they got married.

Him and MC travel a lot!!! Often back to the Ottoman Empire but they also love to discover new places.

They cook together when they have the time to, MC’s grandmother thought it was weird at first since, well, they’re nobles but she turned more supportive over the years.

Him and MC celebrate Eid (Muslim holiday) every year.

Matching Eid outfits with MC!!!

Everytime he goes for a walk, he comes back with a bouquet for MC.

Very thoughtful. Whenever he gets MC a gift, it’ll be very thought out. “I got you this new necklace at the same shop we bought our wedding rings at, I remembered how much you loved it.”

Cocky!! Very cocky!! Especially when he knows MC likes something he does, and the theme gets brought up, he’ll say something along the lines of “Oh, you like that, huh?” knowning damn well she does.

Brags about MC all the time!!! Everyone knows how much he loves her and always tries to stay out of his way whenever he hasn’t seen her in some time.

“I embroidered a new-,” “Are you all talking about embroidery? My wife, MC, is so good at it! Maybe I should ask the servants if they could pick her up from home so she could show you. Speaking about my wife, she’s so lovely and very generous-,”

Him and MC send loves letters to each other all the time. Whenever the Sultan asks him to visit another country because, well, he’s still and ambassador for him, he’s always hesitant to leave MC but he always writes her immediately.

He was super nervous when MC met his family for the first time. Especially his sisters as he wanted all of them to get along.

But of course, his sisters took a liking to MC immediately.

Has taken multiple portraits of MC back home to the Ottoman Empire to hang up in his room, and talks to them whenever he misses her when they’re away from each other.

Knows how to style his kids’s hair, because he used to help his sister when he was younger.

Very good with kids! Not that much of a strict father but definitely protective of his kids.

Briar’s kids always refer to him as ‘uncle Hamid’ and he spoils them rotten.

Actually, all of their friends’s kids refer to him as ‘uncle Hamid’

Him and MC teach their kids about both of their cultures.

Rarely jealous. And if he does get jealous, it’s in a protective manner. Like that time with Richards, or the prince Regent.

[javsarts]

"Home" Prince Hamid and MC from the book Desire and Decorum

A commission art for @missameliep who gave me this wonderful opportunity to work on this piece 😊 And I'm just working on a few more commissions, I may open commissions again by January 😁

[retvenkos]

bright // prince hamid

Choices: Desire & Decorum - Prince Hamid x MC!Reader, fluff

choices september challenge 2020, day 8

Prompt: Storm, @choicesseptemberchallenge20​

Summary: “We should probably get out of the rain,” you suggested, your words having no weight to them. / “Or we could dance in it.”

London had the inexplicable ability to be beautiful all year round. No matter the season or the weather, there was something about the city that was indescribable in its beauty, almost calling you to spend your time amongst the crowding people and scattered shops.

You had asked Briar, once, what she thought had intrigued you about London. This city was certainly nothing like what you were used to; Grovershire had been much smaller and, yet, not as full as this bright city that surrounded you. Briar had looked at you with a mischievous grin, then, and said, “I don’t think it’s so much the place as it is the people in London.”

You knew where she was headed with her statement, but you indulged her anyway. “Whatever do you mean?”

“That Prince Hamid lives here, does he not?”

You had swatted her playfully on the arm, and the two of you had laughed together, teasing each other until your faces grew warm with happiness.

But for all of Briar’s cheek, she hadn’t been wrong.

Prince Hamid had a way of lighting up the world - even the most lengthy ball or drab discussion could become something of an adventure when he walked your way. Hamid saw the world with such bright colors and when you were with him, you couldn’t imagine the world ever being that dull, again. He brought life to your existence, sneaking poetry into your hands before leaving, whispering lowly in your ear when you danced. His words had color and his writing had a voice. He made living beautiful at every turn. You had told him so, once, on a night when the two of you sat close to one another, looking through the glass at the ballroom you had just left for the night air. 

“It’s more beautiful, looking at it from the outside.” You saw in a comfortable quiet as you watched the couples dance, the dresses of each lady billowing into a perfect circle, their curls bouncing on their shoulders. The warm light turned their cheeks flushed, and from behind the glass, the colors were more vibrant, somehow. “When I’m with you”—you turned to look at Hamid, finding his eyes already trained on you—“everything is more beautiful.”

“I find that all of the world’s beauty exists when we are together.” Your cheeks filled with warmth and he took his hand in yours, smoothing the delicate skin he found. “And when we are apart, I’m searching for you so that I might see that beauty once more.”

You had thought to kiss him, that night, and had you not been interrupted, you just might have.

Now you were walking through London, again, and perhaps it was a little improper to not have a gentleman at your side, but you were searching for him at every turn, your eyes seeking him out even though you had no reason to find him. The sky was a cloudy grey, the promise of a storm coming, but still, you found yourself lingering in the streets, walking to nowhere in particular, thinking of something else other than the skies above.

It was outside of the Opera St. James that you saw him, your world already brightening from such a distance. You called out to him and you watched his entire self perk up at the sound, his head following the wind until he found you. He greeted you warmly, taking your hands in his and kissing every knuckle, sending a pleasurable warmth through your body.

“May I ask what you are doing in front of the opera house?”

“You could ask anything of me.” You raised your eyebrows in jest and he smiled. “But I was simply going for a walk to clear my mind.”

“Then we had the same intentions.”

His eyes were soft, and you could see the coming storm reflected in them - dark clouds rolling in, light rain starting to patter on the cobblestoned street, a flash of lighting when he smiled at you, a glint of teeth as his lips pulled wide. The mirth radiating from him was a stark contrast from the world around you, but far more filling than any other stimuli you had come across. You couldn’t help the lopsided smile that tugged on your cheeks, slow but undeniable.

A drop of rain fell on Hamid’s cheek and you softly brushed it away, feeling more rain fall into your hair. You let your hand linger on his warm skin, for a moment, and his hand reached up to close over yours.

“We should probably get out of the rain,” you suggested, your words having no weight to them.

“Or we could dance in it.” There was that smile again, mischievous and infectious.

“That wouldn’t be very proper of us.” But you had already made up your mind and had started to sway.

Prince Hamid put his free hand on your waist and leaned close, his breath fanning across your neck, the sensation more acute than the cold rain on your skin. “But it would be very fun.”

You laughed, your head tilting back until you could see the heavens that poured down, and the storm wasn’t dull at all, but something bright.

-- taglist: @musicallisto​

[sadgirllovesmusic]