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queenmiarys · 3 months

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Can't Take My Eyes Off of You

(Maxwell Beaumont x Olivia Nevrakis) in a Choices The Royal Romance Crackship

Masterlist

Part 5

"Can I ask you something?" Riley picked up another stone to skip across the small stream.

"Sure. You can ask me anything." Maxwell tossed his.

"Have you ever been in love?" She asked.

**************

Ramsford...

"Maxwell? Hey!" Riley waved her hand in front of his face.

Maxwell blinked a few times as he slowly came back to the present.

"Good to have you back." She teased. "I was worried you were going to leave me all alone with our caviar creation."

She held up a container of paprika. "I'm also pretty sure you're going to make it to where my fingerprints are the only ones found on this so Bertrand will know who to kill if these appetizers don't come out right."

He chuckled while taking the paprika from her.

"Nah. I'd never let you take the fall for one of my ideas." He began to sprinkle a little on top of each spoonful.

"What else needs to be done?" Drake asked while coming around the corner. His nose wrinkled over their choice in food. "Or am I free to go?"

"Um..." Maxwell picked up his phone and breathed a little easier. "Oh thank God. Bertrand found a caterer. All we have to do now is clean up the place."

He slipped his phone back in his pocket then helped Riley and Drake put the trays of hors d'oeuvres back into the fridge.

Once Riley left to check to see what Bertrand wanted them to focus on next, Drake spoke up.

"You seem more distracted than usual."

Maxwell paused in scrubbing the counters. "I do?"

"Yeah. You're quiet. It's almost as if you're in deep thought." Drake added.

Maxwell shrugged. "I guess I have been."

Drake eyed him over the handle of his mop. "Is something wrong?"

"You mean beyond the obvious money woes of House Beaumont?" Maxwell quipped. "Or my brother pointing out every single mistake I make? The pressure he feels and is passing onto me if Riley fails to win Liam."

"We all know Liam's going to pick Riley." Drake reminded him.

He went back to mopping the floor and muttered, "Who wouldn't choose her?"

"I hope so." Maxwell completely missed the hint that Drake might have fallen for Riley too. "Then maybe my life can begin."

Drake paused once more. "Begin? What are you--"

Maxwell tossed his scrubber in the sink. "We should um, probably go see what Bertrand wants worked on next."

He hurried out before Drake could ask him to clarify.

Maxwell spent the next few hours trying to work alone. Normally he'd be over the moon to be preparing for the annual Beaumont Bash. He had a sense of pride that their parties were the ones held to end the social season on a high note.

This year though, he wished they could skip it completely.

It wasn't just the money troubles or the fact that Bertrand was one temper tantrum away from a massive stroke, it was the competition that was getting to Maxwell. He knew Riley and Liam were soulmates and honestly, he couldn't be happier for them.

His own happily ever after though seemed less likely to occur than ever before.

Ever since his conversation with Olivia on the beach, the two had not interacted. At Applewood, he kept his distance and focused on encouraging Riley. Olivia in turn did the same with him, yet she seemed to go out of her way to talk to Riley. Surprisingly, both usually were smiling and not in the I really hate you but appearances demand I look like I adore you type smile that many at court were forced to wear.

Maxwell was dying to ask Riley what Olivia said in those moments. He summoned all his willpower to hold those questions at bay and tried instead to keep things light and optimistic for Riley's sake. Bertrand was adding so much pressure on her as it was that the last thing Maxwell should do would be to involve her in his own miserable love life.

If anyone has a real shot at being with the one they want, it's Riley and Liam, Maxwell thought. So I should do all I can to make that happen.

He released a deep, heartfelt sigh. He knew it was pointless to pretend he didn't still want to do all he could to win Olivia. He was simply, for the first time in his life, unsure how to go about it from this point.

**************

The next evening...

Olivia took the lead of ladies walking into Ramsford. She glanced around noting all the typical decorations that the Beaumont's were notorious for. She knew that by the end of the night most of it would be strewn about, tangled up with the drunken people who would later try and pretend they were decent nobles.

She ignored the whispers of the ladies wondering what might happen tonight. She already knew they'd be beyond intoxicated before three in the morning. She could care less about the party or the food or whatever shenanigans the Beaumont brothers had up their sleeves.

She only wanted to see two things.

The first was to be able to observe more of Liam and Riley. She'd spent time since the beach watching them throughout the stay at Applewood. There was no denying the mutual attraction the two shared. Since Maxwell insisted that Riley was sweet, she began to go out of her way to talk to her.

As much as it galled her to admit, Maxwell was right. Riley really was sweet. Thankfully, she wasn't too sweet or Olivia would lose all respect for her. After interacting with her at Applewood, she realized that out of everyone here, she might be able to tolerate losing Liam a little easier if she lost to the American.

The second thing she wanted to see was how Liam and Maxwell acted with herself.

Her lips firmed into a thin line the moment she stepped into the ballroom. While the ladies behind her cooed over the decorations and Riley's sparkly blue gown, she focused on the one man who'd thrown her whole way of thinking out of whack.

Maxwell was beaming with delight over the praises he was hearing. As happy as he was, one would think he'd been the one to prepare the food and decorate the place.

Olivia waited until Bertrand pulled Maxwell away for a private word before approaching Riley. After a quick greeting that wasn't as smug or cold as she normally would have given, she sat down at one of the front tables.

It was the perfect vantage point to watch Liam. Her eyebrows furrowed for a second to see him in a tux that not only matched Riley's royal blue gown, but also the Beaumont colors. It was a blatant statement that Liam had not made for anyone else during the season.

It wasn't manners that made him wear it. If that was the case, then he'd have worn what she'd offered him at Lythikos. He was polite about the red jacket with black dress shirt and slacks, but told Olivia he couldn't wear it since he was supposed to be giving every suitor equal treatment.

I see that notion didn't last long.

"You noticed it too?"

Olivia looked up at Madeleine.

Madeleine's court mask slipped to reveal her obvious disdain. "I think it's in poor taste."

Olivia humphed. "I never suffered a moment of doubt that you would think of it that way."

Madeleine narrowed her eyes upon Olivia.

"This doesn't bother you?" She snapped.

"It's clothes, Madeleine." Olivia replied. "He's yet to get down on one knee and propose to Riley."

"I would have thought you'd be furious with this statement he's making. After all," Madeleine sneered, "you are madly in love with Liam."

Olivia glared at her.

"There's the reaction I was expecting." Madeleine needled. "I'm surprised you haven't challenged her to a duel."

Olivia's glare slowly turned to a smirk.

"It must be hard for you to lose out twice for the crown." She struck back. "Seeing Liam go ahead and voice his choice without saying a word probably makes you think how you'll have to return home in shame once more."

Madeleine stilled at her words.

"But you have parents who understand failure, don't you?" Olivia smiled at her. "I mean, they would have to by now, wouldn't' they?"

Before Madeleine could utter a denial, Olivia waved towards the back of the ballroom.

"Better go find your seat Maddie. One would hate to be caught gawking over the loss of another prince."

Madeleine stormed away with her head held high.

Olivia smiled to herself as she reached for her wine glass.

Tonight might not be so bad after all.

*****************

After dinner...

"Excuse me." Olivia glanced at Riley then turned towards Liam. "May I speak to you for a moment?"

"Of course." Liam still had a hold of Riley's hand. "It's been days since I've had a free moment to speak to, you, Lady Olivia."

Olivia watched as he leaned close to whisper to Riley. His lips brushed the delicate shell of her ear before placing a kiss right below it.

Riley's and Liam's eyes met in a heated exchange as she vaguely promised to think about it.

Olivia mentally rolled her eyes. Clearly they were planning a rendezvous. Any imbecile could see that. They needed some lessons in subterfuge if they were going to try and hide their mutual regard for one another.

It'll all be over soon. Then there will be no reason to hide anything.

She blinked over that thought. It wasn't because she thought about it, but rather the lack of emotion it evoked. It was as if her heart already accepted the fact that Liam was in love with someone else.

Her mind though, still needed proof.

Once Riley disappeared into the crowd, Liam turned expectantly back to Olivia.

The loud music, laughter, and shouts of conversations left little chance to discover if Liam truly felt nothing for her. Taking his hand, she pulled him down a hallway that led to the Beaumont's study.

Once they were behind closed doors, she perched her hip on the edge of the desk and studied her prince.

Liam lifted an eyebrow when the silence stretched between them.

Olivia searched his eyes. "You've made your choice, haven't you?"

"I..." He rubbed the back of his neck while a sheepish smile played about his lips. "I suppose there's no hiding it from you."

He gave her a decisive nod. "I have."

Olivia blinked over actually getting him to admit it.

"Riley is your choice?" She prodded.

He nodded. "I'm in love with her."

Olivia grimaced. As much as she knew this was the case, it still stung to have her dream destroyed in one conversation.

"Are you certain?" She found herself asking.

"I am." Liam grinned at her. "I can't tell you how good it feels to admit it to someone who is a close friend of mine."

"I can imagine." She mumbled.

Shaking off the sting of his declaration, Olivia asked him a question she hoped would help herself.

"How do you know that Riley is the one?"

Liam sat down on one of the leather wingback chairs. He propped his chin on his fist while staring off into the distance to think of how to answer her.

Olivia took the chair across from him and did her best to wait patiently for his answer.

"There are so many things about Riley that made me realize she is the one for me." He began. "From the moment we met, she has been all I can think about."

Olivia grimaced somewhat. If one were to go with her own mind, they would find it filled with Maxwell. It was irritating how often he took over her thoughts.

Liam's pensive expression softened as he continued to explain. "When we kissed, I felt an instant passion. Not just desire, but a need for it to never end, as if," he hesitated in trying to describe it to her, "as if my body only recognized her touch."

Olivia blinked over that. She recalled both kissing Liam and Maxwell the night of her ball. Of the two, Maxwell's had ignited a passionate response in her.

But is his touch the only one my body will recognize?

"The few precious moments I've had with her and getting to know the type of person she is, the more I want to be around her." He turned his attention back to Olivia. "I fell in love with her during those moments. Riley is everything my heart yearns for."

Olivia gave a brisk nod. "I see."

Liam reached over and took her hand. "I know that many believed you would be my choice. Most of my advisors insist upon you being my choice."

She stilled, not entirely sure she wanted to hear what else he had to say.

"If I had never met, Riley," he lowered his eyes to their hands, "I would have chosen you. You are one of my oldest friends. I trust you, admire your strength and loyalty, and believe you would make an amazing queen."

He lifted his eyes back to hers. "Now that I've experienced what love does to a person, how could I choose anyone other than Riley?"

Olivia squeezed his hand. "Of all the people I know, you're one of the very few I actually care about."

Taking a deep breath, she attempted to smile at him.

"And since I care, I actually want to see you happy. If Riley is what you want, then she is the one I hope you get in the end."

Liam's smile lit up his entire face. He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a tender kiss to her knuckles.

"I care about you too." He searched her eyes. "I hope I haven't hurt you."

Olivia shrugged her shoulders. "I've known for some time that you felt something for Riley. Anyone with half a brain can see it."

He chuckled. "True. I've never been good at hiding my feelings." He kept hold of her hand. "But, I would never intentionally hurt you."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "I'm fine, Liam."

"I know." He gently let her hand go. "I wish that you could find someone worthy of you."

She hesitated. "I think there might be someone."

His eyebrows rose. "Really?"

"Maybe." She clarified. "I think I need to do a few more," she searched for the right word, "experiments to know for certain."

"Experiments?" He began to laugh.

Olivia glared at him. "Not all of us are so certain when it comes to love."

Liam held his hands up in surrender. "I meant no offense."

She eyed him to see if he was making fun of her or not.

He bit back a smile. "I simply never thought of discovering love as an experiment. I suppose it is when one thinks about it."

"How so?" She asked.

"There's definitely a chemical reaction." Liam teased. "Being touched by the one, hearing their voice, or simply seeing them across a room sets off endorphins. Everything in your body, your mood, your very way of seeing things in the world is altered by their presence."

He smiled warmly at her.

"I say perform all the experiments you need to know if you have found the one."

Olivia relaxed back in her chair. Seeing now that she wasn't being foolish in her path forward helped in her knowing what steps she should next take.

"I shall." She declared.

Liam rose to his feet and began to walk towards the door.

"Liam?"

"Yes?" He turned back towards her.

"Thank you."

He bowed to her.

"Anytime, your grace."

With another smile, he left her alone.

Olivia's pleasant expression changed to one of frustrated resignation. She supposed she'd hoped there was still a chance with Liam because he'd been the one her mind had accepted so long ago. Now, she could see that there really was no use in thinking like that any longer. Even if Riley were to refuse Liam's proposal, she knew she could never be with him.

Liam wasn't the kind of man to stop loving someone just because they refused to return his affection. Olivia knew her own pride and heart couldn't take being with someone who didn't care for her in the same manner. A Nevrakis either gave everything or nothing and expected the same in return. There was no in between.

"I can't believe it's come down to this." She grumbled to herself.

Of all the men she knew, there was only one who had given everything. To find out if she could do the same, she needed to test the waters a bit more.

"How in the world am I to get Maxwell alone at a party?"

**************

Many, many hours later...

Maxwell hummed to himself as he left Hana's room. Ending the wild party with a game of truth or dare with his friends was the perfect way to end a crazy night. Plus, it'd helped him at least for a little while, not think of Olivia.

How much more fun would it have been to see Olivia do a dare or admit a truth?

He knew what he would have dared her and he knew what question he'd ask. What would have happened might have left him even sadder than before.

Can't have that, he argued with himself. Who wants a depressed Maxwell hanging around?

He unlocked the door to his room, pausing halfway inside. He glanced down the hallway where he knew Olivia was. He'd been the one to clean and prepare her room. He wondered if she even noticed he'd made certain to have a bouquet of red roses in there. Did she notice the red throw he'd left draped over the Beaumont blue chair? Did she even recognize the meaning behind doing something like that?

"Probably not." He mumbled, closing his door behind him.

Maxwell had left his desk lamp on before the party began. The rest of his suite was shrouded in shadow, giving a quiet almost serene feeling after hours of absolute drunken chaos. It was just what he needed to bring him back down off his adrenaline rush.

He began to undress. Kicking his shoes off, he next dropped his pants. Stepping out of them, he stumbled over to his dresser while pulling his shirt off.

He dug around in the dark for a soft T-shirt to sleep in. After finally pulling one on, he stilled to hear a knock on his door.

When it happened a second time, he rushed over to it in the hopes of seeing Olivia. He'd lost sight of her during the beginning of the Beaumont Bash. He'd hoped to find a way to talk to her. Maybe see how things were going and if she'd finally given up on Liam.

His smile disappeared the moment he saw his brother.

Bertrand swayed, nearly toppling over.

"My dear Maxwell," he slurred, "could you be so kind as to point me in the direct- *hic* -shun of my quarters?"

He glanced down, his eyebrows nearly disappearing in his hairline.

"Good god, man! You lost your pants!"

Maxwell tugged his shirt down in an effort to hide his boxers.

"Did an acrobat steal them?" Bertrand laid a commiserating hand on Maxwell's shoulder. "I believe one stole my vest."

"You're wearing it on your head." Maxwell told him.

Bertrand reached up and pulled it off, causing his hair to stand on end. "The blackguard returned it!"

"Uh huh." Maxwell turned his brother around. "Straight down there is your bedroom. Only door at the end of the hall."

"Right." Bertrand stumbled in that direction. "Thank you."

"Anytime." Maxwell watched to make certain he didn't accidentally go into anyone else's room.

His breath caught in his throat the moment Bertrand bumped into Olivia's door.

Nothing happened, leaving him slumping his shoulders and returning to his own room.

Maxwell finished up his nighttime rituals in his ensuite bathroom then finally collapsed on his bed.

"What a night." He mumbled into his pillow.

"Yes, it was."

His eyes flew open. In his haste to reach his lamp on his nightstand, he knocked a glass of water off. Cursing, he blinked against the brightness.

There beside him on the bed was the only woman he'd dreamt of one too many times in that exact spot.

Olivia calmly sat there, hands folded in her lap. She'd puffed up some of his bed pillows to put at her back as she reclined in an almost upright position.

"You're here?" He asked, unable to wrap his mind around the concept.

"So you see." She replied.

"In my room?" He continued. "You're here in my room? On my bed?"

Olivia rolled her eyes. "No. I'm on Bertrand's bed. Of course I'm on yours!"

Maxwell's eyes widened. His lips parted to ask more questions yet nothing but a squeak slipped out.

Olivia leaned closer to him, her brow furrowed in irritated concern. "Are you going to be sick?"

"No." He rubbed his eyes. "I'm pretty sure this is a dream."

She rolled her eyes once more. "It's not."

"That's what you usually say during my dreams." He argued.

Olivia reached over and pinched him. "Now do you believe me?"

Maxwell shook his head. "You do that in my dreams too."

Olivia had used up all her patience in waiting on getting Maxwell alone. Now that she finally had him without any chance of someone seeing them together, she was in no mood to reassure him that this was real. Besides, it was her feelings she needed to test.

With a frustrated breath, she straddled him.

Maxwell's eyes widened even more. Unsure what to do with his hands, he fisted them in the sheets. His heart was beating so hard that he wasn't certain if he'd survive this dream.

Audibly swallowing, he waited to see what she would do next.

She leaned down. The tip of her nose touched his. Her eyes held his startled gaze. A slight smirk curved her lips when she heard his sharp intake of breath.

"Maxwell?"

"Yeah?"

"Kiss me."

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queenmiarys · 3 months

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CFWC CREATOR OF THE MONTH MASTERLIST

Every month, CFWC selects one creator to be highlighted as Creator of the Month. For information and to see how you could be selected, please visit here.

2024

February 2024: TBA January 2024: @jerzwriter

2023

December 2023: @oh-so-youre-a-nerd November 2023: @lizzybeth1986 October 2023: @peonierose September 2023: @lilyoffandoms August 2023: @ao719 July 2023: @alwaysmychoices June 2023: @peonyblossom May 2023: @the-pale-goddess April 2023: @genevievemd March 2023: @lucy-268 February 2023: @princess-geek January 2023: @jamespotterthefirst

2022

December 2022: @liaromancewriter November 2022: @missameliep October 2022: @takeharryandgo September 2022: @angelasscribbles August 2022: @inlocusmads July 2022: @utterlyinevitable June 2022: @gryffindordaughterofathena May 2022: @bebepac April 2022: @headoverheelsforramsey March 2022: @lovealexhunt February 2022: @issabees January 2022: @bex-la-get

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queenmiarys · 3 months

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A Tipsy Winter's Tale...

Oh, @annoyingmillenialnewbie! Just three words, and I knew exactly where I wanted to go with this! I hope it's what you hoped for as well! From this three-word ask.

Book: Crimes of Passion Pairing: Trystan Thorne x Carolina Rose (F!MC) Rating: Teen Warning: Drinking Words: 995 Summary: When Trystan & Carolina take a tipsy stroll through a snowy Central Park, who will have to reel the other in? A/N: @choicesjanuary2024 Day 9 Frostbite (almost)

Carolina was doing her best not to fall as she ran down a snowy slope in New York’s famed Central Park. Of course, ‘ran’ may have been a bit of an exaggeration. Given the snow and copious amounts of wine she had taken in that evening, stumbling may have been more accurate. But all things considered, it was miraculous that she was standing at all. The only thing more miraculous was that Trystan standing, too. Not only was he standing, but the man seemed to fly. No matter how hard Carolina tried, she could not keep up with him.

“Trystan Thorne!” she hollered before tripping over a cluster of snow-covered bushes. “Trystan, wait for me! Where are you going?”

But he was already far ahead, and her irritation was inching up along with the snow totals. Looking down at her feet, she cursed her decision to wear these shoes. Who is stupid enough to wear high heels when the forecast calls for snow?. She wondered as she debated what would be worse... frostbitten toes or not catching up to Trystan. In her state of inebriation, she believed that the latter would be a far worse fate. That’s how her red suede Steve Madden pumps ended up abandoned somewhere between the Bow Bridge and Bethesda Fountain. It would make several joggers wonder what the story was there as they zipped by in the morning, but for now, she was just worried about getting through tonight.

Exhaustion was setting in, and she slowed her pace from a run to a jog until she stalled with an exasperated groan. “Trystan! Please wait!”

It was please that did it. Even intoxicated, Trystan Thorne would stop the world if he felt his love needed assistance. Winded and with his cheeks red, he turned around to find her staggering behind.

“Come on, Carolina,” he pleaded. “Don’t you want to see the fountain?”

“The fountain? I’m a New Yorker, Trystan. I’ve seen the fountain a thousand times.”

“But not in the snow,” he simpered.

“Yes,” she laughed, finally coming within several yards of him. “Even in the snow.”

But just when she thought the wayward prince was within her reach, he took off on foot again.

“For the love of...” she took off after him. Her feet were freezing, but she wouldn’t realize that until sobriety reappeared, and if there was any doubt that that moment was still far off, it was erased when Trystan began climbing over the edge into the basin of the Bethesda Fountain.

“TRYSTAN!” She admonished, her patience all but gone. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I want to see the fountain!” he complained. “Why isn’t it on?”

“Oh, I don’t know? Maybe because it’s 30 degrees and snowing in January! That might have something to do with it!”

He continued his walk to the center of the fountain, almost near the Angel of the Waters statue, when he declared, “New Yorkers are weak! In Drakovia, the fountain would be on.”

“Yes,” Carolina rolled her eyes. “Drakovia is so tough that even its waters defy the laws of physics.”

But Trystan couldn't hear her; he was too busy frantically searching around the statue’s base. “Where is it?”

“Where is what?”

“The switch! To turn this on!”

“There is no switch! The fountain is not going on!”

Defiant, he stomped a foot. “Then I’ll make a fountain of my own!”

He reached down, grabbing as much freshly fallen snow as he could, and tossed it in the air. He ran in circles, slipping and falling throughout but constantly tossing snow as he did. A string of curses from the two languages she spoke fell from Carolina’s lips.

“¿Qué carajo es esto?” She swore as she hopped over the ledge and joined Trystan inside the fountain. “Trystan!” She huffed, bumbling through the snow. “Trystan! No! You have to stop! If you get arrested for this, it will reflect badly on the agency! Mafalda will kill you!”

Trystan’s eyes lit up, his lips curling into a mischievous grin when his Carolina was finally within arms reach.

“You’re right,” he said, grabbing her arm and pulling her to the ground. “If we’re going to sully the agency’s reputation, it should be for a much better reason than this!”

Landing on her back, Carolina attempted to jump back on her feet, but then she felt his weight up on her, his arms surrounding her, and just like that, the rest of the world disappeared. All that existed was the two of them, faces glowing in the dim moonlight, then his lips... his searing warm lips were on hers. She clutched his hair in her hands, pulling him in deeper, the heat between a direct contrast to the bitter cold they found themselves in. But when he started to tug at her buttoned coat, Carolina was ushered back to reality.

“OK, babe,” she giggled, pushing him away. “We’re both drunk, but thankfully, I’m sober enough to know that if we do it here, we’re going to lose our genitals to frostbite... and I think we might want to use them again in the future.”

“But Carolina,” he groaned. “This is on my bucket list?”

Carolina hopped onto her feet, extending her hand to help her disheveled lover up.

“Hon, if having sex in the Bethesda Fountain, in the snow, is on your sexual bucket list, we may need to revisit that list when we’re sober.”

“Fair enough,” he smiled. “Besides, I should take you home and warm you like the gentleman I am.”

“I'm not opposed to that,” she smiled, kissing him again.

With his arm draped over her shoulder, they began to make their way out of the fountain when Trystan noticed her bare feet.

“Where the hell are your shoes?”

Carolina looked down in astonishment, then laughed. “Honestly, I don't remember!”

“Well, we can’t have this!” He said, sweeping her off her feet and cradling her in his arms.

“Trystan,” she giggled. “You can’t carry me the entire way home like this?”

“Wanna bet?” He grinned.

Carolina nuzzled her head, starting to pound ever so slightly into his neck. “They really shouldn’t let out alone, unsupervised. Don’t you agree?”

“Without question,” he grinned. “But where would the fun be in that.”

@choicesficwriterscreations

Tagging others separately.

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queenmiarys · 3 months

Note

I hope that you've had a good day but if today was hard, I hope tomorrow will be better. Be kind to yourself through the good and the bad. You are so special and appreciated! This fandom is so lucky to have you in it. Thank you for being you! 💛 (PS - drink some water)

Thank you so much @lovealexhunt ❤️ Right back at you!

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queenmiarys · 3 months

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Happiest of Birthdays to my beloved Thomas Hunt!

I've posted each of these pieces separately but I love them all so much that I thought I'd share them all in celebration of Thomas's Birthday!

Each of these pieces is by the lovely @weetlebeetle! Look at my babies, always so in love! 💖💖💖💖

[All Thomas Hunt x Alex Spencer Masterlists] [Red Carpet Diaries]

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queenmiarys · 3 months

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How about one of Liam‘s kids get one of their friends daughters pregnant. How would they react? I went through something like this when I was younger. I know times have changed but what would royalty do if that happened to them.

Okay Nonnie, this one I had to really, really think about. First off, I am sorry you had to go through something similar. On a personal note, I too had two people (at different times) in my family that I am close to also face that. Seeing my grandparents' reaction followed by our extended family's was eye opening. I think my grandparents must have been more merciful and accepting than those of their generation.

I don't know if you watch The Crown on Netflix, but I think that has shown how royalty would react to scandals. Putting that with what we have seen in Cordonia concerning Riley's pictures with Tariq and all, I have attempted to write out how I think Liam, Riley, and even Regina would react if one of their sons got a girl pregnant, much less one of their close friend's daughter.

@krsnlove and I don't have this as part of our story for While We're Young, but I am using this as a what if to that storyline.

Thanks so much for the prompt.

Masterlist

What Comes First?

Prince Emerick's yacht, off the Coast of Portavira...

"A toast!" Emerick held up his glass. "To my brother on another victory!" He wrapped his arm around Ellis's shoulders. "He is one of the greatest polo players to have ever come out of Cordonia." He grinned at the crowd. "And thankfully has inherited my good looks."

Ellis chuckled with the rest. He bowed his head, a touch sheepishly at being the center of attention. "Thank you. But I couldn't have done so without my fellow teammates."

More cheers and good natured teasing were yelled out.

"To the greatest brother a man could ask for! To Prince Ellis!" Emerick knocked back the champagne in his glass before urging Ellis to do the same. "Now let's get this party started!"

Music began to blare from speakers as young nobles and celebrities mingled and danced.

Ellis smiled at everyone that called out to them as he tried to find a place without a lot of people.

One of the many rooms on his brother's mega yacht was dark and empty.

Just what a man needed to contemplate his loneliness.

Ellis set his empty flute down and searched for a decanter that each room was graced with. Taking a sniff of its contents, his lips firmed in a frown. Whiskey was something he had never developed a taste for, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

He poured himself a glass before settling on a couch.

Now he could think.

After breaking things off with his longtime girlfriend, he had become a bit more quiet. He still managed to smile and joke around with his family and friends, but things had changed for the tenderhearted prince.

Ellis kept his uncertainty to himself.

Who was he to complain? He had the best parents, best siblings, best friends any man could ask for. He had been graced with being born to royalty. He was second in line to the throne and thankfully would not have to worry about ruling over Cordonia. He was blessed with his father's handsome looks and his mother's ability to normally look on the bright side to any circumstance.

I have no right to be down, he thought.

It seemed that life was changing around him yet he couldn't seem to keep up. Some of his closest friends were engaged to be married, while he continued to wait on the one he was meant for.

A big part of him longed for that to be settled. Like his father, all Ellis wanted from life was a family of his own with the woman who could hold his heart.

But where is she?

He poured himself another drink and pondered these thoughts, much like he did most nights.

His deep blue eyes lifted when the door began to slowly open.

"Ellis?" Emily Beaumont stuck her head in. "There you are!"

Her dimpled smile appeared as she shut the door behind her.

"I've been looking for you everywhere." She plopped down beside him on the couch. "I was hoping for a dance with the hero of the hour."

"I'm not really in a dancing mood, Em." He chuckled at her expression of disbelief. "Sorry."

She turned toward him and propped her head on her hand. "What's wrong?"

He grimaced as he swallowed the last of his whiskey. "Nothing."

"Ellis," she pleaded, "it's me. I know you. I probably know you better than anyone." Emily placed her other hand on his arm. "You know you can tell me anything."

He rolled the empty tumbler between his palms. "I know."

Her heart ached when he seemed even sadder than usual. Not being able to take the silence that seemed to separate them, she spoke up again.

"Is it...are you missing Zoey?" She asked.

"No." He paused to make certain that wasn't it. "No, I did the right thing by breaking up with her."

Emily's worry eased at that. "Is everything okay at home?"

"Yes." He grinned for a moment. "How could it not be?"

"You're not upset with one of us are you?" She bit her lip, thinking of all the times she, Juliet, and Izzy dragged him into their crazy, fun loving plans.

"Not at all." He set his empty glass down and took her hand in his. "How could I be?"

"Well, I know I can be pushy at times when I want you to do things." She mumbled.

He snorted softly. "True, but I think I occasionally need to be pushed to have a good time."

She rubbed her thumb soothingly against his hand. "Then, what is it?"

"I..." He turned toward her. "Em, I'm..."

She gently squeezed his hand. "You're what?"

"I'm lonely." He admitted.

Saying it outloud sounded so ridiculous in his head.

How could I possibly be lonely when I am on a yacht filled with people I know and actually like?

Emily threw her arms around him, squeezing him in a tight hug.

He rested his head on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry." She whispered.

He clutched her close. Those two simple words struck a chord that only Emily seemed to affect. Ever since they were children, she simply accepted whatever his problems were and somehow knew how to comfort him.

What am I going to do without her, he pondered.

Knowing she would be leaving in the next few days to travel with Cordonia's Royal Ballet Company, Ellis didn't think he could take the months ahead without her cheerful presence.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek. "What can I do?" She asked.

He gently cupped her cheek, gazing at the face he had seen millions of times in the past.

And yet, in this very moment it was as if he were seeing her for the first time.

"Emily."

The way he said her name caused her to still.

His fingers trailed down her cheek.

It was as if the blinders they had been wearing for most of their life fell from their eyes, revealing what could be.

Not a word was spoken as their lips met in a heated kiss.

****************

Three months later...

Emily stepped off the plane and began to search for her parents. Her eyes were red and puffy from all the tears she had shed the last few days.

"Emily!"

She turned toward the sound of her name and saw her father dodging her fellow passengers as he ran through the crowd.

"Dad!" She dropped her bag and threw herself into Maxwell's arms.

Blinking through her tears, she saw her mother and older sister, Nicky, rushing over.

Amanda took her daughter into her arms, softly shushing her tears while saying that everything would be fine.

Emily closed her eyes tight when her family enveloped her in a group hug.

"Have you talked to Ellis yet?" Nicky whispered.

Emily shook her head. "I didn't want to do it over the phone." She swallowed against the lump that was growing in her throat. "He is coming over tonight."

****************

St Orella, Cordonia...

Ellis bounded up the steps of the mansion the Duke and Duchess of St Orella called home. His heart raced at the thought of seeing Emily again. He had planned to surprise her by showing up at one of her performances before she left Europe for North America. Duties as a Cordonian prince had kept him from easily doing so.

Their few nights together before she left had meant the world to him. Even though they would be apart for most of the year, he had called her often and sent little surprises of flowers and gifts in the hope that she would know he was thinking of no one but her.

Her message to meet him at her home this evening had come as a surprise.

A delightful one.

"Your Highness." The butler bowed as he held the door open. "Lady Emily is in the formal drawing room."

Ellis paused at hearing that. Emily never spent time in there. It was filled with uncomfortable furniture, priceless antiques, and portraits of long ago nobles. It was a cold, uninviting room.

Nothing at all like Lady Emily Beaumont.

Ellis went down the familar hallway and opened the door.

Emily was pacing back and forth before the fireplace. Her hands were twisting the skirt of her dress as she silently mouthed to herself.

"Em?"

She jerked to a stop. Her bottom lip trembled when she saw how warm his smile was at seeing her again.

Within a few steps they were in each other's arms.

Emily ignored the tears that slipped down her cheeks when he kissed her.

"Hey," he gently wiped her tears, "what's wrong?"

"Ellis, I..." She closed her eyes as a wave of nausea rolled over her. "I need to sit down."

His smile was replaced with alarm. "Emily! You're not ill are you?"

"I'm--in a way--"

Her pale face caused a slight panic to build within him. He knelt in front of her.

"Emily, what is it? Is this why you aren't in Copenhagen?"

She slowly nodded. "I can't finish the tour."

"What is it? Have you seen a doctor? What did they say?" He gripped her hands in his, praying it was nothing serious.

The thought of a world without her was unthinkable.

"Oh Ellis," she lowered her eyes, "I'm pregnant."

Ellis blinked before sitting down in the floor before her. "Pregnant."

She slid down in the floor with him. "I was just as surprised as you are." She sniffed while wiping her tears. "Even more so."

"We're going to have a baby?" He asked, his mind whirling with images of their brief time together.

"Yes." She began to ease away from him. "I'm sorry-"

She gapsed when he pulled her into his arms. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"Don't apologize." He ordered. "You didn't do this."

"Well, I did willingly participate." She reminded him.

He couldn't help but smile at that. "I'm glad you did."

"Ellis Rhys! I'm surprised at you." She managed to smile at him for a moment. "What are we going to do?"

He kissed her forehead. "I need to tell Father. Does your family know?"

She nodded.

"They don't..." He pulled at his shirt collar, "they don't hate me, do they?"

"Of course not!" She sat up in order to see his face. "Why would you think--"

"Playboy prince."

Emily covered her mouth.

Ellis was about to take it back until he noticed she was shaking with muffled laughter.

He rolled his eyes. "No need to rub it in how little I match that moniker."

Her giggles brought a smile to his lips.

"You are nowhere near being a playboy prince." She managed to say.

"I charmed you into my arms." He grumbled.

"Yes, you did." She smiled at him. "Even when you weren't there, the messages and gifts continued to charm me."

"That was their intention." He took her hands in his. "Emily, you must know that I have always loved you as a friend?"

She nodded, struggling to swallow down her disappointment.

Were his gifts out of pity?

"I don't think it should come as a surprise that I have moved onto having a romantic love for you."

Emily's eyes met his blue.

"Ellis, you--are you sure?"

"I am." He lifted her hand to his lips. "Our baby won't ever doubt how much I love their mother."

Emily leaned forward to kiss him, smiling against his lips when he pulled her into his lap.

"I love you," she said softly, "so much."

A throat cleared, causing the two to pull apart.

Maxwell eyed them warily. "Well?"

Ellis stood up, helping Emily off the floor, and faced a man he had always considered a fun uncle.

"Your grace," Ellis began, "I wish--"

"Your grace?" Maxwell narrowed his eyes on the young prince. "You have never addressed me by my title before."

Ellis cleared his throat when his voice squeaked. Maxwell Beaumont appeared to have transformed into a formidable overprotective father, one whose temper was barely holding on by a thread.

"Sir, I wish to ask your permission to marry Lady Emily." Ellis managed to say properly.

Maxwell’s gaze softened on his daughter. "Twinkle Toes? Do you want to marry him?"

She nodded, hugging her prince close. "I do, Dad."

Maxwell's dimpled smile appeared as he called out for Amanda and Nicky.

"We will go with you to the palace to break the news." He told the couple. "Everything will work out fine."

After Amanda and Nicky hugged Ellis, Maxwell pulled him away as the Beaumont ladies laughed and made plans.

"Do you love her?"

Ellis looked him in the eye. "I do, sir. I planned on asking her to marry me once she returned from her tour."

Maxwell patted him on the back. "Good. That’s all I needed to hear."

************

The Royal Palace...

Liam looked up when a very puzzled Riley walked into his study.

"My love, what is it?" He asked, rising from his desk.

"Ellis is here with the Beaumont's. He asked that we, along with Emerick and Regina, come into the den." A tentative smile formed. "Do you think he has finally decided to get engaged?"

Liam shared her excitement. He had suspected that Emily cared deeply for Ellis and that his son was finally seeing her and all her sweet ways.

"It certainly sounds like it." He called for a footman to have champagne prepared. "Just in case." He added, taking his wife's hand as they walked down the hall.

His eyebrows raised when he saw not only Maxwell and his family, but also Bertrand and Savannah with them.

Regina sat in one of the cushioned, straight back chairs, curiously eyeing the Beaumont's.

Emerick strolled in after his parents. "I was told I was needed." He smiled as he greeted everyone. "What's going on?"

Ellis straightened his shoulders, took Emily's hand in his, and faced his family. "I've asked Lady Emily to be my wife."

"Oh!" Regina smiled as she stood to embrace the young couple. "This is marvelous news!"

Riley and Emerick swooped in to hug them both.

Liam followed, delighted with his son's choice. "We will make the announcement in the morning. We should then decide on a date for the wedding." He stroked his jaw. "Perhaps in the fall--"

"There's more." Ellis interrupted.

"We can't wait until the fall." Emily added.

"I understand." Riley chuckled. "I didn't think my wedding to Liam would ever come quick enough."

"It isn't that." Ellis corrected. "The thing is..."

Emily squirmed while glancing at her parents.

Ellis audibly swallowed. "Emily's pregnant with my child."

The Royal family stilled.

"What?" Regina breathed. "Pregnant?"

Emerick shook himself out of surprise. "I'm going to be an uncle?" He kissed Emily's cheek at her nod then wrapped an arm around Ellis's shoulders. "You devil, you."

After another round of hugs, Riley asked when the baby was due.

"End of October." Emily replied.

"October!" Regina rose to her feet once more. "That's six months away!" Her brow furrowed. "How are we to keep this hidden?"

"Hidden?" Emily stepped back from the queen mother's ire.

"Yes." She snapped. "A prince is to have children after matrimony. We could have excused it with the baby being born a few weeks early. But this gives us no such option!"

Emily placed her hand over her still relatively smooth tummy. "I'm sorry. I ignored the signs at first thinking it was the hectic schedule of the tour that was making me feel bad."

Ellis wrapped his arm around her, keeping her tucked protectively at his side. "I don't see what the problem is. Father can marry us at any time. We don't have to--"

"A prince can't elope!" Regina exclaimed.

Emerick stepped up to Emily's other side, publicly showing his support. "Grandmother, you need to calm down. We can find a way around this--"

"The scandal will only bring up all the others the crown has endured. Everyone's mistakes will be thrown up in our faces again." She stated bitterly. "The media will have a field day with this!"

Ellis held tight to Emily when he felt her trying to back away. "Our child will not be a mistake." His gaze turned toward his parents. "Right?"

Riley immediately agreed.

Liam ran a hand down his jaw as he thought through all the ramifications this announcement would cause.

"Father?" Ellis asked, not quite believing he might not have his support.

"As a parent, I...." Liam stated. "All I have ever hoped was that my children find the type of happiness I found with my own love."

"And as a king?" Maxwell stepped forward. "How do you feel?"

Liam hesitated.

Emily managed to wiggle out of Ellis's grasp. "I'm sorry, your majesty."

"Don't apologize." Ellis ordered.

"Can we go?" She asked her family, unable to hear Liam say that they couldn’t marry. That she was now an unwanted burden..

Maxwell told Amanda and Nicky to take her home.

Ellis blocked their escape as Savannah moved to go with them. "Are some of our highest ranking nobles denied the right to stay in the palace?"

"Of course not." Riley replied. "We want you all to stay."

"I'm sorry." Emily placed a hand over her mouth as she ran out of the room. "I'm going to be sick."

Ellis ran after her, telling Amanda he would take care of her.

"We must not do anything hasty." Regina said once more. "Liam, you need to think carefully before announcing their engagement."

"Think about what exactly?" Amanda asked, her own temper being pushed past its limit.

"I mean no insult," Regina's chin lifted, "but are we certain the child is Ellis's? The two have barely been together. And--"

"How dare you?!" Maxwell shouted, shaking his brother's restraining hand off his arm. "You have watched our girls grow up. How could you possibly stand there and even think Emily would trap Ellis in a marriage with another man's child."

"Because she is in a desperate position." Regina answered in a calm, hard manner. "Any girl would jump at the chance to--"

"My sister wouldn't!" Nicky shouted. "Emily would raise the child alone before ever doing something like that." Tears sparked her eyes, causing her to leave the room in a huff.

Savannah followed after, promising to try and calm her down.

Riley stepped in between Regina and the three remaining Beaumont's. "We know Emily wouldn't do anything like that." She sent a pleading glance toward her husband.

Liam stepped forward. "I do not doubt Emily's word." He bowed his head toward Regina. "Would you give us a moment?"

The queen mother opened her mouth to argue, but instead nodded. "Of course."

Once the door was shut, Emerick released the breath he was holding. "Grandmother was out of line."

Amanda had to bite back the insults she had for the elderly noble. "I'm going to check on the girls."

Riley reached out and grasped her hand. "Please come back when you're able."

Amanda squeezed her hand in silent gratitude before turning toward Liam.

He met her gaze. "I promise that all will be made right for Ellis and Emily."

She swallowed a few times as tears came to her eyes. "Thank you, Liam."

Once the door was again shut, Maxwell focused on his oldest friend.

"Liam? What are you going to do?"

"These are our children." Riley added, confused at her husband remaining in silent thought.

"Father?" Emerick said, his own tone worried.

"There is nothing that should hinder the two to marry." Bertrand reminded him. "There are no laws or rulings former monarchs have made. In fact, in 1534, Queen Tamara decreed--"

"Please." Liam interrupted. "Allow me a moment to absorb all this."

He sat down and put his head in his hands while the rest moved to another side of the room to talk.

His son. The one that reminded him in so many ways of himself. Ellis was one of the most supportive men Liam had ever known. He stood by his family and friends without a second thought. He never shirked any duty his father placed before him.

Though Liam couldn't very well be upset that he and Emily had precipitated their marriage vows, especially since he had done the very same with Riley, he still wished things had gone differently.

He wanted Ellis and Emily to have all that they deserved. The celebrations for their upcoming marriage. The excitement from the citizens of Cordonia. Time to enjoy their engagement, wedding, and beginning of a life together.

His lips curved somewhat as he thought about Ellis standing up to Regina, protecting the woman he loved. He couldn't be prouder of his son for doing the very thing he should have done for Riley the night of his coronation all those many years ago.

Realizing he was now in the very position his own father had been in deciding whether or not he would support his own son's choice, he remembered what he had promised Riley all those years ago by the wishing well.

I wanted to be a better man and king than my father had been.

And as a man, he was a father.

That had to come first. His family deserved to always come before the crown.

Before Cordonia.

Without drawing attention from the others, he slipped quietly out of the room.

****************

"Here." Ellis placed a cool rag over Emily's forehead. "Is there anything else I can get you?"

She closed her eyes. "No, thank you."

He eased down to sit beside her on the bed and began to run his fingers through her hair.

"What are we going to do?" Emily asked.

"We are going to--"

They both looked up at the door slowly opening.

"May I come in?" Liam asked.

Emily began to sit up when Ellis nodded.

"Please." Liam held his hand up. "Rest." A smile appeared on his face. "I remember Riley suffering with morning sickness at all hours of the day."

He pulled a chair up to their bed and sat down.

"I must first ask for your forgiveness." He began. "I should have spoken up and stopped Regina's rant."

"You don't have to apologize." Emily told him. "I know our news was a shock."

"It was. But it was also one that I will rejoice in." Liam smiled at her. "You two are giving me a grandchild, continuing the very family I always dreamed of having. Nothing has brought me greater joy than being a husband and father. Now I will get to experience something completely new as a grandfather. You're giving me yet another person that I will love with my whole heart."

He cleared the emotion out of his throat. "I should forewarn you that I will spoil him or her. And there will be no stopping Riley, Maxwell, or Amanda from doing the same."

Emily giggled at the thought as tears came once more to her eyes.

Ellis moved off the bed and hugged his father.

Liam's arms tightened around him as memories flooded his mind. He remembered holding Ellis for the first time. Watching him learn to crawl. Walking. Talking. Playing with him. Seeing him grow into a young man filled with compassion and steadfastness. Every single moment of joy.

"Will you marry us?" Ellis asked.

"I will as soon as you wish." Liam released him and took Emily's hand. "I couldn't be happier to have you as an official member of the family, my dear. Riley and I always secretly hoped our sons would choose their wives from one of our friends' daughters." He lifted her hand and placed a kiss upon her knuckles. "And I will stand by you both as I tell Cordonia how thrilled we are to soon meet our future prince or princess."

He stood up and promised to go tell the others that everything was settled.

“We want to be married tonight.” Ellis told him. “As soon as Emily feels able, we will join you all downstairs.”

“We will wait for you in the den.” Liam promised.

He left the couple with smiles on their faces and an anticipated lightness in his own heart.

He knew he had made the right decision to insure his son’s happiness in life.

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queenmiarys · 3 months

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queenmiarys · 3 months

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Goodnight, Moon (Driam)

This is a fic I wrote for me because I have been craving classic Driam, complete with angst and smut. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please excuse any grammatical errors and/or typos.

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Song Inspiration: Space, PoolClVb: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oB6zs6JHqzI

Word Count: 2,546

This post is NSFW

The Palace, After the Coronation Ball

“You love her!” Drake accused as he took another swig from the bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand. He was in his rooms at the Palace, head and back laid against oversized feather filled pillows and his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle. He was naked.

Liam stood at the foot of the bed, getting undressed. His eyes looked up from the shirt he was unbuttoning to glance at Drake. He gauged his lover’s mood: not drunk yet, but definitely in his feelings. Morose was giving way to anger.

“Love has nothing to do with it, Drake. You know that.” Liam’s tone was even.

“It has everything to do with it! And why are we here in my rooms? Because you’ve had her in your bed and don’t want to sully your sheets with the lowly commoner’s scent. With his seed!” Drake sneered.

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queenmiarys · 3 months

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Thanksgiving - Part 4

Fandom: TRR - (Un)Common Attraction universe

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series: Thanksgiving

Synopsis: Harper and Drake fly to Bozeman, MT to spend their first Thanksgiving together with Harper’s family.

Word count: 5,400

Warnings: E (swearing, fluff, religion, references to smut, aggro, violence no human casulaties)

A/N1: So, this installment was supposed to wrap up Thanksgiving night at the Gales', but (as per usual), it ended up running away from me, so there will be at least one more part (I know I said that last time as well, but I don't control these characters)

A/N2: Once again, apologies in advance for any errors or misinterpretations in relation to the American football. I sliced and diced the Broncos vs. Cowboys game together based on real life comments I transcribed from my husband over the course of a few games we watched together, so pretty much all of the reactions in the fic are genuine yes, hubby is a very opinionated spectator 😆

A/N3: This is also my second submission for @choicesholidays' 2023 Winter Holidays Prompt Event, and the prompt that this installment fits with is Week 1: I’m thankful for you and Week 3: This is definitely going to land me/you/us on the naughty list!

"Oh, look who decided to show up..." grouses Tyler as Drake and I descend the stairs.

"Sorry," I say, pulling my cardigan over my shoulders. "We—"

"Used up all the hot water?" my brother offers dryly. "And then some?"

Justin gives him a shove.

"What?" Tyler objects offendedly. "They were in there for almost two hours!"

"I pulled 36 rose thorns outta her," Drake tells him.

Tyler visibly blanches. "Shit."

"You okay, Harp?" asks Brody, stepping up to me.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I assure him with a wan smile. "Just —"

"Oh, honey!" cries Mom, flying out of the kitchen with outstretched arms. "That's terrible! Do you—?"

"Ouch!" I hiss as her concerned arms fly around me... pressing inevitably into my wounds.

"Oh! Sorry, sweetie!" she exclaims, yanking her hands back. "I didn't mean to hurt you! I just wanted to give you a hug!"

"Yeah, those are going to have to wait a while..." I mutter sourly, rubbing a particularly tender spot on my shoulder.

"Such rotten luck..." she bemoans with a sigh. "Especially on Thanksgiving!"

"Trust me, I know..." I assure her, glancing wryly at Drake. "It was definitely not part of the plan!"

He shakes his head with a smirk as he helps himself to the twelve-pack of Busch that Brody had already opened up.

"Do you need anything?" my mom presses. "Ice pack? Hot water bottle? Painkillers?"

"Something stronger?" quips Nana as she puts the finishing touches on the apple pies.

"I'm fine," I tell her. "Drake already loaded me up with Advil upstairs. They should be kicking in any minute."

"Let's get you fed, then," declares Dad, hoisting the steaming turkey out of the oven. "Everything should still be hot."

"Sorry for making you wait," I say as we all make our way to the dining table. "Anything we can do to help?"

"Nothing — apart from digging in!" he replies, placing the oversized bird into the middle of the table.

"Not before we say grace!" Nana reminds us imperiously, arriving as well after having loaded the pies into the oven.

Groans rise up from my brothers.

"Can't we just eat?" asks Tyler. "We'll miss the start of the game!"

Nana whips him with her kitchen towel. "Not on your life, buster! You may not go to church like you should on Sundays, but you can still take two minutes out of your day to think about something other than yourself! Especially on Thanksgiving!"

"I think about stuff!" Tyler objects, rubbing his arm.

"Like that pistol at the gun range?" smirks Brody. "Who's more likely to shoot you than date you?"

"No..." snips Tyler, looking studiously away.

"Suuuure," grins Justin, elbowing his brother meaningfully.

Tyler reddens further.

"I quite like the tradition," interjects Mom with a smile. "Helps remind us of all our little blessings in life. Like the fact that we have food on the table... A roof over our heads..." She reaches out to clasp my hand under the table. "Things to celebrate..."

I return her smile as I give her fingers a squeeze.

"Okay, fine," accedes Tyler. "But can we skip the hand-holding? I'd like to keep my fingers— Ow! The hell was that—!"

"Language!" warns Dad.

"We're doing this properly," decrees Nana, snapping the kitchen towel back onto her shoulder. "Without any goofing around!"

She offers her hands with a decisive note of finality.

Tyler stares at it for a long moment before taking it with a beleaguered sigh.

"Now your brother," she prompts.

Tyler holds his hand out grumpily.

Justin takes it with an equally crabby expression.

I hold my free hand out to Drake, who laces his fingers through mine with a warm smile as the rest of my family link up as well.

"Right," declares Nana. "Who wants to do the honours?"

Awkward silence descends on the table.

I heave a breath. Guess I'll just—

"I'll do it."

My head snaps to my left. "Really?"

Drake responds to my surprised outburst with a shrug. "Someone's gotta. Plus, like your mom said — we got things to celebrate."

My heart swells with emotion as I feel him run his thumb over the engagement ring sitting on my finger.

He meets my gaze with that molten mocha look that always gives me butterflies before turning back to the rest of the table.

My family's eyes swivel onto him expectantly.

Drake clears his throat. "I'd like to say thanks. To everyone at this table. Not just for inviting me to share Thanksgiving with y'all, but for welcoming me into your family. I know we didn't exactly meet under the best circumstances — the first, the second, or hell... even the third time!"

Chuckles rise up from around the table.

Tyler leans into Justin accusatorially. "How come he gets a free pass for cussing?"

Brody punts him under the table.

"So, I'm grateful for the trust you placed in me — continue to place in me — when it comes to your daughter... your sister... your granddaughter," Drake continues, meeting everyone's eyes in turn. "It goes without saying that she's smart, beautiful, got more grit than a gravel road, and obviously banged her head at some point—"

More chuckles float into the air.

"—because I still have no clue what the hell she's doing with me," he adds with a wry smirk, glancing over at me. "But I know that I love her, and will go to the ends of the Earth for her, come hell or high water. And I know we're not quite married yet, but I truly am grateful for every day, every minute, every second I get to spend with her, because life is too damn short, and I honestly don't deserve her."

I squeeze his hand as my vision becomes blurred with feeling.

"And I know that the past six months have been tough — for everyone at this table — but I don't regret the outcome. Because each hurdle, each hardship led to this little moment right here — all of us 'round this table, sharing a Thanksgiving meal together."

I feel my mouth curve into a small smile of agreement.

Drake takes a breath. "So thank you, Lord, for blessing us with this bounty — not just the food that we are about to eat, but the bonds of love and family that we get to share and strengthen each and every day. Amen."

There is more than one hoarse voice as my family reciprocates the traditional affirmation.

"Oh, Drake," croons Mom, wiping the heartfelt tears from her eyes. "That was beautiful!"

"Yeah, seriously," grunts Tyler 'round a sniffle. "What gives, man?"

"Are you actually crying?" asks Justin in bewilderment.

"No..." mutters Tyler, blinking rapidly. "Just... just got a stupid eyelash..."

"Uh-huh..." comments Brody... though Drake's speech must've touched him as well, because he sidelines his usual ribbing in order to reach up to flick a wayward drop of wetness out of the corner of his own eye.

"At least now you know how to do it for next year," declares Nana. Reaching across the table she adds, "That was lovely, dear. Thank you."

Drake accepts the gesture with a soft smile. "Just spoke from the heart, ma'am."

"As you should," she affirms wisely, settling back into her seat.

I lean into Drake with a wry smirk. "Now the rest of us will never measure up..."

"Not everything's a competition, Gale," he murmurs, lifting my hand to his lips to drop a kiss on my knuckles, his mocha eyes dancing.

I flick my foot against his as I stifle a snort.

"Yes, thank you, Drake," acknowledges Dad with a nod. "And now, for the main event."

Brody shunts the turkey closer to the edge of the table as Dad pushes himself up and reaches for the carving knife and meat fork.

"What piece do you want?" I ask Drake as my dad sets to work dissecting the steaming bird.

"Y'all take first dibs," he replies. "I'm easy."

"You sure?" I press. "There's usually a fight for the wings and the legs. So, if you want in on that, you'll need to jump on it."

"I'm good," he assures me. "You just pick what you want."

"Drake?" asks Dad, as if on cue. "Breast, wing, or leg?"

"Please don't say wing..." prays Tyler. "Please don't say wing..."

Brody elbows his brother in the side, eliciting an annoyed grunt.

"I'm good with anything," Drake replies.

"Nah, son," Dad insists. "You were kind enough to say grace, so you get first pick. So, what'll it be?"

Drake glances 'round the table like it's a high-stakes poker game.

My family eye him in turn, waiting for his decision.

Looking back up at my dad, he says, "Breast is good."

There is a collective exhale from my brothers.

"You sure?" Dad asks, repeating my own question from earlier. "There's plenty of—"

"I'm good," Drake confirms, holding his plate out.

"Okay," shrugs Dad, slicing a decent chunk of meat off. "Just don't be shy about seconds."

"Learnt my lesson yesterday," Drake assures him with a grin.

Knowing laughter bubbles up around the table.

"Harper?" asks Dad, turning to me.

"Hey!" objects Tyler. "Why is she next?"

"Because she's the only one of the four of you not living here anymore," Dad replies. "Which means she's a guest, and guests get first cut."

Tyler slumps back into his chair with a dejected huff. "Never gonna get any wings at this rate..."

"Leg for me, please, Dad," I say. "And a wing."

Tyler throws his hands up in the air. "See!"

Dad ignores him as he proceeds to dole out the request onto my plate.

"Thanks," I say, placing the food back in front of me.

"You're welcome, honey," Dad says with a smile before turning back to take orders from the rest of the table.

I reach for my fork and knife.

Drake leans in again. "Shouldn't we—?"

He goes mute as I dump half the turkey leg onto his plate. "Here."

His eyes snap up to mine. "Gale, I said I—"

"You can thank me later," I tell him, giving him the wing as well while nabbing some breast from him in exchange.

Drake stares at his plate for a moment before reaching over to give my knee a squeeze.

I pat his hand under the table.

I know he'd been trying to be polite, opting for his third choice instead of his first or second, so he wouldn't cause any upset. But I also know that he loves wings — I mean, who doesn't? — and the darker meat always tastes juicer than the white. So, I'm not going to let his Southern sensibilities cheat him out of genuinely being able to enjoy his Thanksgiving meal. Especially after everything he's done for us today — fixing the oven, prepping the food, and spending thirty minutes with a needle and tweezers plucking thorns out of me with infinite patience and precision.

"Help yourselves," Mom urges, shoving the mash towards us. "You know you don't have to stand on ceremony with us."

"Thanks, Mom," I say, taking the dish from her.

While the various sides and garnishes get passed around, Dad finishes carving up the turkey, and we settle into easy conversation in front of loaded plates.

"So, I hear you're flying down to Texas tomorrow?" Nana asks as she spears an asparagus.

"That's right, ma'am," nods Drake, swallowing down the bite he's just taken. "Need to make a quick detour for my Aunt Lee."

"She forgot something?" queries Nana.

"No," I correct 'round a mouthful of mash. "We need to get her."

"She's never flown before," Drake clarifies. "Or been out of the country. But my sister wants her to come to the wedding, so..."

"We're her VIP escort," I finish wryly.

"VIP or not," notes my Mom, "I'm sure she'll appreciate the company. Airports can be very bewildering!"

"You just need to follow the signs," I say.

"Hey," interjects Tyler, jabbing a forkful of turkey at Mom. "You're talking to the parent who got lost in Costco."

"They put the petunias in the wrong place!" objects Mom.

"You mean outside...?" deadpans Justin.

Mom huffs wearily in reply.

"Have you decided where the two of you want to get hitched?" asks Dad, strategically changing the subject.

"No," I admit. "We've been so involved with Savannah and Bertrand's wedding that we haven't really had time to think about ours..."

"Well, I know it's nothing fancy, but you're more than welcome to have it here," he offers. "The yard's plenty big enough.. Or there's the church down the road, if you were thinking something more traditional..."

"Thanks, Dad," I say graciously. "We'll definitely—"

"And I can make the cake!" adds Mom with gusto. "With those little sugar flowers, and—"

"Stop trying to plan their wedding!" chides Nana. "They might want to get married in Texas! Or New York! Or Hawaii!"

"Well, like I said," I interject diplomatically. "We haven't quite decided..."

"But if not," accedes Dad, "you know we're more than happy to chip in. In whatever way you need."

"Including helping you elope," winks Justin.

Mom throws her bread roll at him. "Don't you dare! If I find out my one and only daughter got married without me, I'll... I'll..."

"Well, there goes Plan A..." mutters Drake as my mom heaves a shuddering breath.

"Told ya..." I whisper back with a grin.

He leans in closer. "Fine. But I expect you to make it up to me on the honeymoon."

I smack his arm.

His hot gaze bores into me. "You think I'm joking..."

Despite our earlier escapades in the shower, I feel the heat flare between my legs in response to the intensity in his eyes.

Especially as he adds in a low voice, "We'll be doing nothing but each other for two weeks, baby."

"Okay, enough wedding talk!" declares Tyler. "It's game time!"

"No, it's not!" objects Justin. "I'm still eating!"

"Well, eat faster then!" urges Brody, wiping the gravy from his plate. "The kickoff waits for no man!"

"What about dessert?" asks Mom. "Don't you want to—?"

"I think the pie will have to wait," I note dryly as my brothers push their chairs back.

"Drake?" she asks hopefully. "Do you want—?"

"Thanks, but J was right," he replies, leaning back in his chair. "I'm stuffed fuller than the poor bird sitting on the table."

"There's always room for dessert!" Nana counters. "Especially when your missus made it!"

"It wasn't just me," I tell her. "You helped too!"

"It's yours in all the ways that matter, dear," she insists with a proud smile. "I just helped you put it together."

"Well, if it's anything like the pancakes, I'm sure it'll be worth the wait," Drake assures her.

"Ha! Your boy's got more silver on his tongue than I have teeth in my mouth!" exclaims Nana. But I can tell that she's pleased with Drake's response.

"What about some apple pie moonshine?" asks Dad conspiratorially. "Got any room for that?"

Drake considers the offer. "I can be tempted..."

"Good," approves Dad with a grin, slapping Drake on the shoulder as he gets up. "I'll grab the bottle."

"Yo! Texas!" calls Tyler from the living room. "You comin', or what?"

"Go," I tell him. "I'll help with the clean up."

"You sure?" he asks, running his gaze over me concernedly.

"Yes," I assure him. "It's not like I broke an arm or anything."

His mouth twitches. "Opinions may vary...."

I give him a shove. "Want to rethink that prognosis, Doctor?"

He leans in to drop a kiss on my cheek with a chuckle. "Fine. But you better holler if you need help."

"I'll be fine," I tell him, turning my head to peck him on the lips. "I need to work all this food down somehow first, anyway."

His breath tickles my mouth. "Well, if you want suggestions..."

"Oh, my God!" I cry in exasperation, snacking his chest. "Just go already!"

"You sure they're not married already?" asks Nana prosaically. "They act like they've been together fifteen years!"

"Oh, not you too!" deplores Mom, dropping her head into her hands.

"What?" objects Nana. "It was just an observation!"

"Well, don't give them ideas!" exhorts Mom. "I'll walk at least one of my children down the aisle, if it's the last thing I do!"

My head snaps 'round. "Isn't that Dad's—?"

"He can have the first dance," declares Mom with a dismissive wave of her hand.

I stare at her in bewilderment.

"What did I do now?" queries Dad, reappearing with the jar of moonshine.

"Nothing!" Mom assures him with an angelic smile. "Just wedding talk!"

"More like wedding sabotage," mutters Nana around the rim of her gin and tonic.

"Umm..." is all I can manage as Drake tries and fails not to choke on his own snort of laughter.

"They're kicking off!" hollers Justin from the living room.

"Better excuse yourself quick, son," advises Dad, grabbing a pair of glasses out. "Otherwise you'll be stuck at this table for the rest of the night, wondering what possessed you to propose in the first place!"

"Robert!" exclaims Mom in outrage.

"Go," I urge Drake as my dad disappears into the living room. "We'll join you in a minute."

"Okay," he accedes. Turning back to the table, he adds, "Thank you for dinner. Y'all really went all out."

"Oh, you're welcome, sweetie," Mom tells him with a beaming smile. "But are you sure you had enough?"

"I'm sure," he assures her, patting his belly. "But I'll be back for some of that pie at halftime!"

"We'll keep it warm for you," Nana assures him.

"Appreciate it," Drake grins in reply.

"Oh, that reminds me!" Mom exclaims as Drake turns to follow my dad. "I should get the ice cream out of the freezer — let it warm up a little."

"I can do it," I offer, pushing my chair back. "Seeing as I did nothing earlier."

"Don't you want to watch as well?" asks Mom in surprise.

"With that much testosterone crammed into one room?" I quip. "I need some apple pie first!"

"Good thing we made two, then!" agrees Nana.

"I'll get some plates out," Mom declares, getting up as well.

Dispersing from the table, the three of us set about our designated tasks while the sounds of the game float through the house to the accompaniment of various exclamations coming from the sofa.

"Boom!" yells Drake. "That's how you sack!"

"What the shit, ref!" erupts Brody at the same time. "He was over first down!"

"Yeah, right!" scoffs Drake. "He was—"

"Shut up, Texas!" shouts Tyler. "Your opinion doesn't count!"

"Actually, he's right," steps in Justin. "He got pushed off before—"

"Whose side are you on?!" Brody and Tyler yell back.

"Sounds like an exciting game," observes Nana as she pulls the pies out of the oven.

"A little too exciting," I reply dryly, grabbing a spoon out for the ice cream.

"Oh, they're just having fun," Mom assures me, popping a bottle of caramel Bailey's open. "You know how boys get when they're together..."

"Yeah," I mutter. "That's what I'm worried about..."

The last thing I need right now, on top of everything else that's gone sideways today, is Drake and my brothers falling out over a stupid game when they've been getting along so well with each other. Especially when there is actually money — and pride — on the line.

Maybe this had been a bad idea...

Peeking 'round the corner, I catch sight of the guys on the sofa, eyes glued to the TV.

"Stop him!" urges Drake as the Broncos receiver makes a dash down the field. "Flatten the bastard!"

"Keep going, Patrick!" counters Brody.

"Sweet fuckin' Jesus!" groans Drake as the Cowboys defence finally manage to push the Denver player out of bounds. "How many of y'all do you need to stop a runner!"

"The whole team," laughs Dad from the other side of the room.

"Seriously?" objects Tyler. "You're not gonna call him out on the f-word?"

"Oh, just let it go, T!" groans Brody.

"Maybe if you learn to drink 'shine like a man, Dad'll give you a free pass too!" Justin tells his younger brother.

"I make no promises," comes the deadpan response.

I feel a smile quirk at my lips. Okay. Maybe it's not so bad.

Picking my plate and glass up, I make my way over to the sofa as well...

...and nearly spill everything onto the carpet as Drake erupts into a fit of rage just as I'm about to sit down next to him.

"What the hell, Diggs!" he bellows, throwing his hand out at the TV. "How could you let that go!"

Brody jumps up from the couch with a celebratory fist-pump as the Broncos’ offence snaps the ball out of the air and tumbles across the line. "Ha! In your face, Texas!"

"One job! One fuckin' job..." growls Drake under his breath as he stares daggers at the screen.

The Broncos quickly line up for their field goal, adding a one-point conversion to their score.

"How's the game going?" asks Mom, coming over with Nana to join us.

"Depends who you ask," I tell her dryly, spooning up a forkful of pie while Drake continues to fume next to me.

"Broncos are winning," Brody declares proudly.

"Not for long," Drake mutters as the Cowboys line up for their first snap.

Dak Prescott gets the ball and launches it down the field.

"Catch it, Lamb, catch it...!" urges Drake.

Yellow flags fly into the field as the ref's whistle blows.

"What the fuck?" comes the outraged exclamation from next to me. "There was nothing—!"

"Personal foul," advises Justin. "Cowboys offence."

Sure enough, one of the Dallas linemen gets called out for holding.

"Oh, fuck you, ref!" objects Drake as the slow-mo replay is shown. "That's a bullshit call!"

"Not really," counters Justin. "That Cowboy all but ripped Browning's jersey off!"

"It didn't interfere with the damn play!" insists Drake heatedly. "We're owed that yardage!"

"Not according to the refs," shrugs Brody.

"Putain de bordel de merde..." cusses Drake under his breath.

"Jesus!" exclaims Mom as the teams reset. "Things must really be had if we're swearing in Spanish now!"

"It's French," I correct wearily.

The ball is snapped again and the Cowboys manage to gain some ground, despite stiff opposition from the Broncos’ defence.

"The fuck, Darby! That was an easy pass!" exclaims Drake as the Cowboys fumble the ball.

"Cowboys are choking!" sniggers Tyler gleefully. "It's what they do best!"

"Shut up!" snaps Drake in response.

I lay a comforting hand on his knee, but he's too engrossed in the game to notice...

...especially when the Broncos take advantage of the turnover to score another touchdown.

"That's why you don't tackle like that!" yells Drake, springing to his feet in a fit of rage as the ball crosses the end zone.

"Ha!" gloats Brody victoriously as the Broncos convert the down. "16-0 against the number one offence in the league! We'll have you beat by the third quarter, easy!"

"Fuck you, man..." Drake grits, downing the remainder of his moonshine angrily.

"Top up?" offers Dad.

"I'm not sure that's—"

But my feeble protest gets very viscerally overruled as Drake thrusts his glass out in front of me.

I sink back into the sofa. This is going to be a long game...

The rest of the first half ticks down, with Dallas managing to squeeze a touchdown in just before the whistle blows.

"Fucking finally...!" grumbles Drake as the game cuts to ads.

"Someone suck the juice out of Cowboys?" asks Nana. "They're all over the place tonight!"

"I thought they were supposed to be one of the top teams in the league," adds Mom, chewing thoughtfully on a bite of pie.

"Just... Just don't..." says Drake with a shake of his head as he flops back onto the couch.

"Who wants pie!" I ask, trying to lighten the mood a bit — and change the subject — before Drake has a total meltdown.

"I'm good," says Brody, reaching for another can of Busch instead.

Tyler and Justin shake their heads as well.

"Drake?" I ask hopefully.

He tips the remainder of his drink back by way of reply.

"All the more for me, then!" I declare with excessive chirpiness as I tramp back into the kitchen.

But if Drake picks up on my heavy dose of sarcasm, he doesn't react to it.

Arriving at the centre island, I reach for the serving spoon.

I know he got like this sometimes — way too engrossed and overtly involved. Especially when his team failed to live up to expectations and he was left watching helplessly from the sidelines.

Which grates on him all the more, given that he played for a college team during his first two years at the University of North Texas, and knows first-hand the difference between a good play and a bad one.

So, I can empathise with his outbursts. Even if I don't agree with them. Because, at the end of the day, it's just a stupid game played by a bunch of belligerent jocks who get paid way too much money to run up and down a field for a couple of hours.

And that's part of the reason why I never really caught the football bug despite growing up in a house with four brothers and a dad who live and breathe the game.

Dumping another serving of pie onto my plate, I dress it with a liberal dollop of ice cream before making my way back to the living room...

...but not before I grab a fresh glass from the cupboard as well.

Dropping my plate on the coffee table, I nab the bottle of moonshine and pour myself a couple of fingers. Because the way this game is going, Bailey’s isn’t really going to cut it.

"You're drinking too?" asks Tyler in bewilderment.

"You used to hate that stuff," adds Justin with wide eyes.

"Drake's a bad influence," I reply dryly, screwing the mason jar closed again.

"Has good taste, though!" quips Nana as she reaches for the amber-coloured liquor as well. "You really outdid yourself with this batch, Rob!"

Dad raises his own glass cordially in reply as the TSN commentators wrap up their predictions for the second half and the game resumes.

Downing my drink in one, grimace-inducing swig (Nana's right — it is good... just very strong), I take my seat again with some trepidation as the Broncos kick the ball across the field to the Cowboys.

As regardless of the outcome, beer cans and f-bombs are guaranteed to go flying as soon as the final whistle blows. It's just a question of who will be the perpetrator — Drake, or Brody.

"Run it! Run it! You're wide op—!" Drake emits a pained groan. "Oh, got the love of—!"

Brody claps his hands together in victory as the Bronco's defence tackles the Cowboys runner to the ground. "Suck it, Texas!"

"We still got possession," Drake reminds him as the Cowboys line up for a snap.

I continue to chip away at my pie in tense silence as Dak Prescott gets his hands on the ball and looks for a receiver.

"Throw it, dammit!" urges Drake. "You're gonna get—"

Prescott launches the ball at the last second before he gets sacked, but it goes wide, hitting the ground even though Lamb makes a desperate run for it.

"27 yards, man!" groans Drake. "How the fuck did you miss?"

"Broncos gonna win!" sing-songs Justin as he does a little shimmy on the couch. "Broncos gonna win!"

"Shut up!" snaps Drake.

Ten tense minutes later, Drake's mood only fouls further.

"What?!" he berates the screen as the ref denies the Cowboys some much-needed points. "What the hell do you mean 'he wasn't in control'! That was a goddamn touchdown!"

"Sucks to be you, Texas!" Brody chimes in gleefully as Dallas is forced to rerun the play.

Drake shoots daggers across the room even as the Cowboys fullback manages to throw himself over the top of the double line of blockers and land the ball in the end zone.

But the touchdown, and the subsequent field goal, seems to galvanise the Cowboys, especially since they know they're quickly running out of time to make up for all the points they conceded to the Broncos in the first half.

Possession switches to Denver, but the defensive coordinator must have been screaming at the linesmen while they had been sat on the bench, because the Broncos have to fight tooth and nail to make any headway down the field.

"67-yard field goal...?" asks Justin in disbelief as the Broncos’ kicker is brought on.

"He'll need more than a prayer to pull that off," agrees Tyler.

"He'll make it," Brody assures himself, hands clasped in front of his face in apparent prayer. "He'll make it."

Even McManus looks like he's seeking divine assistance as he prepares himself for the kick on the field.

The kicker's foot pulls back, and the ball goes sailing through the air. The Cowboys scramble to catch it...

...but the football sails decisively through the bars of the goal.

"Fuck yes!" screams Brody, shooting up from the couch with his arms in the air.

"I can't believe he made it..." gasps Mom.

"Boy's got some thighs on him," affirms Nana.

Tyler and Justin are staring at the screen in awe.

Even Drake looks moderately impressed.

The rest of the third quarter winds down, and after yet another ad break, the final fifteen minutes of game time rolls around.

"Now or nothing, guys," murmurs Drake fervently as the last quarter kicks off.

I finished my second helping of pie ages ago, so I have nothing left to keep me distracted from the almost choking anticipation in the room.

The teams battle it out on the screen as the clock ticks slowly down.

"Run it, run it!" yells Drake as the Broncos close off Prescott's options.

"He's behiiiiind you!" mocks Tyler 'round a pre-celebratory slice of apple pie.

"Oh, for the love of—!"

My eyes suddenly widen as I see the Dallas QB pull his arm back. "He's going for a Hail Mary!"

Drake rounds on me. "To who? There's no one fuck—!"

Prescott must've sensed the Broncos' linebacker bearing down on him because he launches the ball into the air at the last possible second. The football hurtles through the air as players scramble on both sides...

...and Cooper manages to snatch it from the air!

"Where the hell was that during the first half!" deplores Drake as Cooper lands on his feet and pegs it down the field, leaving the Broncos' defence to dust.

"Run, you piece of crap!" yells Brody at his team. "Run!"

But it's too little, too late, and Cooper somersaults the ball into the Denver end zone with a massive grin on his face as the crowd in the stadium goes ballistic.

"Fucking finally!" gripes Drake, slumping back into the couch in relief as the Cowboys gain their hard-fought six points.

"Not gonna help you, Texas," Justin reminds him. "You're 22 points down with two minutes to go."

"Two minutes is a long time, man," Drake counters as the Cowboys line up to attempt a two-point conversion.

And I don't blame them — they desperately need the points, even though it's a risky play.

"Not if we sack you first!" exults Brody as the Broncos take their revenge and the Cowboys' gamble backfires.

"Asshole!" cries Drake, shooting to his feet in anger. "Why the fuck did y—!"

Tyler's laughing on the floor. "Should've taken the kick, Texas!"

Something inside of Drake snaps. "Fils de pute!" he roars aiming a kick at the coffee table and sending it flying...

...right into the TV stand.

The 50’’ flatscreen teeters precariously, as if trying to decide its fate, before opting to crash unceremoniously to the floor.

Silence drops on the room as everyone stares at the carnage, the garbled sound of the TSN commentators' voices crackling feebly out of the busted speakers.

Even Nana is speechless.

Dad is the first to recover his faculties. "Well," he observes prosaically. "That's a new one..."

I finally manage to tear my gaze away from the scene of destruction to look up at Drake...

...only to find a blank space beside me.

"Dra—?"

Pissed-off footsteps echo down the foyer before the front door slams shut with a loud bang.

I heave a breath. "Great."

Thanksgiving continues in Part 5 - Coming Soon!

A/N: Before anyone asks, yes, I HC that Drake had a Christian — specifically Catholic — upbringing. Both his parents hail from areas where church attendance, Sunday school, baptisms, etc. would’ve been prevalent when they were growing up (Texas for Jackson and rural Cordonia for Bianca — if you recall, I switched their nationalities around for my rewrites), so it would make sense for the Walkers to have continued this tradition with their kids, especially when they were younger. I know a lot of people write Drake as an atheist (or even downright aversive to the concept of God and organised religion), and I can understand why people make this choice, but this is not the route that my Drake decided to take. And while in my fics he is not ‘actively’ religious (he doesn’t go to church, he’s not particularly insistent on having a church wedding, etc.), that religious upbringing is still part of his character (readers may have noticed this in some of the expressions and turns of phrase that he uses; the concept of prayer is also something that I’m planning to explore towards the end of (Less Than) Noble Intentions), so he would know, and not balk at the thought of, saying grace at the dinner table.

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Thanksgiving Only

@burnsoslow

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queenmiarys · 3 months

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Affair Partner

All I’m going to say about this fic is: IT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO GO THE WAY IT DOES. But the characters have a mind of their own. I don’t know about your folks, but mine are sometimes real people trapped in fanfic.

Thanks to all who read this over in pieces, parts, and in full. You know who you are.

Thank you to all who will read this. Your reads, likes, comments, and/or reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Please excuse any and all typos, missing/extraneous words, and/or grammatical errors. MS Editor rates the story as 99% error-free.

Song Inspo: Bigger, Fazerdaze

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Rating: M for Mature

Word Count: 1,471

The King stands with a circle of acquaintances, a tumbler of scotch fisted in one hand. He nods and smiles in acknowledgement of the many conversations passing in and out of his ears. During a rare lull, when the dull roar of conversations and chuckles from others can be heard, his eyes scan the gathering.

And he sees her, in all her honeyed glory.

Lady Riley Brooks.

She’s on the other side of the room, holding a vodka gimlet; her head falls back as she laughs. He can’t hear it, but he imagines it: raucous, mirth-filled, contagious. He sees the red of her plump lips and the swells and curves of her body, poured into a gold lamé bodycon dress.

He continues to stare, realizing that it’s rude but there’s something about her that brings a smirk to his lips and a stirring in his pants. Something about her is irresistible to his soul and insatiable to his appetite.

Perhaps she feels the weight of his gaze; maybe it’s something primal between them. Her eyes meet his, and her smile falters as she clumsily places her glass on the bar’s counter. Not out of embarrassment at being caught in such a candid moment, but the influx of emotions he evokes within her.

Reluctantly, Liam tears his eyes away from hers as he looks down at Olivia Nevrakis, who has slid her arm proprietarily through his to capture his attention. When he looks back up, Lady Riley is gone. He spots her in a far corner, earnestly in conversation with Lady Hana while showing her something on her phone.

The orchestra segues into a waltz. “May I have this dance, m’lady?” he inquires as he bows before her.

His expression is neutral; only the hint of a smile lifts his lips.

Riley quickly looks at Hana, a panicked look on her face before her eyes carefully scan the ballroom, then her phone.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” she replies softly as she slides the device in her pocket.

She doesn’t turn it off. He notices.

As she settles in his arms, he nods towards the skirt of her dress. “Anything of importance?” he inquires, referring to her cellphone.

She shakes her head slightly, a flash of annoyance crossing her countenance.

Liam glides her smoothly along the marble flooring; they both give stiff smiles and nods to the other couples who have joined them on the dance floor.

She smells of jasmine and vanilla and every dream come true.

He smells of sandalwood and green grass and answered prayers.

All he wants to do is kiss her lips, fervently in open Court.

All she wants to do is touch his skin, raking her nails across the unblemished terrain beneath his clothing.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs against the shell of her ear.

“Your wife is here!” Riley retorts.

“I am allowed to dance with ladies of Court, Your Grace,” he reminds her before expertly twirling her.

The music swells before coming to an end, and she curtsies to her monarch.

“I’m no one’s mistress,” Riley reminds her lover before being hailed by Penelope. Giving the future Duchess an almost relieved smile, the Valtorian noblewoman parts company with the King.

At dinner, the pair are seated at the same table; the King finagles a seat next to hers.

It’s a mistake.

Their body language is almost foreplay: The closeness of their bodies; his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he whispers commentary on the various guests; her giggles at his observations while shivering from the goosebumps his nearness causes; the dart of pink as her tongue licks her lips.

The first course arrives; he has chosen the salad and she, the soup. Chatter around the table quiets as people begin eating. But Riley can’t bring herself to swallow, not with him so close to her. His scent fills her nostrils, the physical attraction she feels for him crowds her brain.

She’s in too deep.

Riley smiles ruefully to the table as she excuses herself. She needs air; the others think she needs the restroom. Riley navigates the hallway, and gasps when she feels a hand close over her wrist.

It’s Liam.

She puts up no resistance when he drags her to his private study and closes the door. He doesn’t lock it. He flips a switch and muted lighting floods the room. Riley quickly looks around at framed photographs of the King and his family: his wife, his heir. There are others, including the portrait of his mother, Queen Eleanor, staring sanctimoniously down at Riley.

Liam pays no attention as he quickly removes his shirt and tie. He unzips his pants before lying on his back on the carpeted floor. He crooks a finger, beckoning Riley to join him. With widened eyes and heavy breathing, she pushes off her shoes, pulls off lace panties, and hikes her dress up to her waist.

The expensive, imported rug burns her knees as the King’s hands guide her hips; whimpers and moans fall from her lips as her sex ensconces his manhood. Their eyes meet just as her core begins to tighten; hers are filled with lust, his gleam with triumph.

She is someone’s mistress. His.

The Lady returns to dinner just as servers place entrees on the table. Her lover joins her five minutes later. They hold hands beneath the tablecloth as he discusses politics with the Duchess of Krona and the Duke of Ramsford.

She speaks with friends between bites of Brizola steak accompanied by grilled potatoes and asparagus until she is interrupted. Liam holds a wine bottle aloft, offering to pour her a glass of sparkling rosé, which she refuses.

Her husband is in attendance as well. She needs to keep her wits about her.

Her eyes linger on the gold band that encircles his left ring finger. Unconsciously, she twists her own wedding ring.

Much later, the festivities begin to wind down; servers clear tables, bartenders begin putting wares away, and in the kitchens, dishwashers fill sinks with hot, soapy water.

In the crowd, Liam seeks Riley out, and finds her with Drake Walker. Whatever she’s whispering in his ear has him looking at her with an incredulous expression. With an apologetic smile to his best friend, Liam pulls the Duchess of Valtoria away from prying eyes and listening ears.

“I want more,” he states without preamble as the backs of his fingers ghost her jawline.

He doesn’t need to clarify what more means.

“You’re married,” she replies, her eyes glaring almost accusingly at his ring.

“I am.” It is stated simply, with no remorse. “As are you.”

Despair twists her features. “I’m not doing this with you any longer!”

She tries to move around him, but he deftly blocks her passage. The King is growing weary of playing games with his lover. Despite their earlier tryst, his appetite for her has only increased.

He wants her, and the King always gets what he wants.

“Thank God” he breathes out, a touch of impatience in his tone. “Is this game over now? Can we go upstairs and pick up where we left off in the study?”

He arches an eyebrow as a mixture of disbelief and frustration washes over Riley face at his words.

“LIAM! You BROKE ROLE!!”

“On the contrary, I have played along all evening, acting out this roleplay, cosplay, whatever it is you call it. Now, I’m ready for more of the real thing!”

“This is the ONE TIME we’ve gotten overnight babysitting in 84 YEARS, and instead of using your imagination, you wanna think with your dick!”

The King smirked. “We’re parents now; all I DO is use my imagination! Trust me, love, I want to do more with my genitals than THINK with them!” He moved closer to her. “And now we have our chance.”

Riley shook her head vigorously. “I swear to CHRIST Liam, THIS is why we can’t have nice things!”

“I’m trying to give you a nice thing!”

His wife stamps her four-inch heel against the marble floor before turning and walking away.

Unperturbed, the King shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks lightly on his heels as the Queen strides through the crowd, shaking her head in exasperation.

He knows where to find her once the crowd disperses a little more.

It doesn’t bother him that the argument will likely continue once they’re alone. In fact, he’s hoping it will.

Angry sex is the best sex.

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