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ao719 · 2 months
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Best Kept Secrets
Best Kept Secrets - Maybe We’ll Get It Right (Chapter 18)
Characters belong to Pixelberry.
Summary: An unforeseen encounter with the past proves that even the best-kept secrets eventually make their way into the light. 
Title inspiration: Hold On Tight - Forest Blakk
Book/Pairing: TRR; Liam x F!OC
A/N: Thank you to @burnsoslow for prereading most of this. Please excuse any errors. 
Rating: M • Warning: This series will contain NSFW material. If you read, you acknowledge you are 18+
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Standing in her bedroom inside the north wing, Amara stared at her reflection in the floor-length mirror. She scanned over her outfit before meeting her own anxious gaze; she took in a deep breath and slowly let it out, trying to settle her nerves. 
Today would be Amara’s and Liam’s first public outing with Sophia since the statement had been given. It would be the first time the press would not only catch a glimpse of the heir but see the three of them together … as a family. She knew that the purpose behind the outing was to show the public that their King had moved beyond her betrayal and that they were putting the past behind them for the sake of their child. It was all in hopes of shifting the negative attention she was receiving and showing her in a more favorable light. 
Amara was nervous, however. One would think she would find this to be fairly simple; working the press to change public perception was literally her job, but it was much different being the one whose image you’re trying to change their perception of. She wouldn’t be working her PR magic behind the scenes because she was the one under the microscope. She knew her every move was going to be picked apart, questioned, and, at times, manipulated to fit whatever narrative they were attempting to paint of her. Whatever they felt was going to sell a story was what they were going to try and sell, truth or not. 
Despite knowing this was something they needed to try, Amara had second-guessed the decision since Daniel suggested it; they’d given themselves an extra week behind the palace walls to prepare, but she felt anything but because she couldn’t get out of her own head. She didn’t want her presence during these planned outings to make things even more difficult for Liam than she’d already made them. 
However, when Amara subtly brought up the concern, Liam didn’t seem all too phased. They planned to spend the day on the private beach, and he reminded her that while, yes, the press was sure to be camped out nearby, they would still be far enough away so they’d be able to enjoy their day together with Sophia and that he was looking forward to spending the day out … with both of them. He seemed to be treating it as both a casual and normal outing and not one that was planned with a purpose.
Amara wasn’t reading too much into what he’d said, however, seeing his words for exactly what they were. She knew it was nothing more than his way of trying to make her feel more relaxed because he could sense that she was on edge about it. To think he meant anything beyond that was pointless. Despite her feelings for him, she’d forced herself to face reality over the last month and a half, a reality where she knew that any chance she might have had at continuing to rekindle things between them was long gone. After what she’d done, he’d never give her a second chance, and she didn’t deserve one. Her feelings for him didn’t matter and didn’t mean anything to anyone but her, so she shoved them into a box and pushed any notion of them being anything more than co-parents as far down as she could. It hurt, of course, but it was the consequences of her actions. And she’d suffer in silence because she wasn’t going to let those feelings get in the way of his and Sophia’s relationship. 
A knock on the door pulled Amara’s attention, and she gave herself one last glance in the mirror before turning and exiting her bedroom. When she opened the door, she smiled at Sophia, who was giving her signature toothy grin.
“Mama!”
“Hi, baby,” Amara chuckled as she took her from Liam’s arms when she leaned over to her. She kissed her cheek as she ran her hand over her head of blonde hair. 
“Morning,” Liam said. 
Amara offered him a tentative smile. “Morning.” She stepped aside to let him in, closing the door behind her. “I have her stuff ready. I’ll just go get her changed real quick.” 
Liam nodded and watched the two of them disappear down the hall, listening to Sophia babble and Amara laugh, smiling as he sat down in the living area to wait. He drummed his fingers against his thighs, wondering what the day was going to bring.
They would be spending the day at the private beach, and while he knew it would be accessible to the press, it would keep them far enough away so they wouldn’t be too overbearing. They couldn’t go out in public and make it obvious that they were putting on a show for the cameras. 
Truthfully … it wasn’t about the cameras for Liam nor was it a show. Yes, he was doing this as a way to hopefully shift the narrative surrounding Amara, and he was looking forward to finally taking Sophia beyond the palace walls, but it was more than that for him. He wanted to spend the day out with Amara, too. 
Over the last month and a half since everything had happened, one of the things he struggled with most was his feelings for Amara. At first, those feelings were suffocated by anger and resentment, but once he forced himself to let go of those emotions for the sake of moving forward, they came back tenfold. Now that he’d been spending every day with her the past two weeks, practically playing house inside the palace with her and Sophia … the three of them, together, as a family … everything he felt before seemed amplified. His feelings began to consume him, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to continue to shove them aside. And maybe he shouldn’t. He’d been trying to do what was best for Sophia, but perhaps what was best for her was the very thing he’d been trying to ignore. 
Liam had a couple of reservations, however, and they seemed to be the one thing holding him back. 
The first reservation was trust. No matter which way Liam looked at the situation, he’d been betrayed. Did he now understand the place in which Amara was coming from? A little. He’d allowed himself to see things from her perspective, and he understood her headspace at the time. It didn’t change the fact that he was still lied to and kept in the dark about something as important as the existence of his child. Were there other secrets she was keeping? He didn’t know. And he didn’t know if he could trust her to not keep more in the future. 
The second reservation was fear. Twice now Liam had tried to make things work between them, and he was left broken both times. They say the third time’s the charm, but this was something that now went beyond just him. If they tried again and they failed a third time, not only would it affect him but Sophia as well. He and Amara had a knack for being unable to get their stars to align. Could he really risk Sophia being collateral damage in a game he wasn’t sure he would ever win?
“Dada!” 
Sophia’s squeal pulled Liam from his thoughts. He glanced over and a laugh bubbled out of him at the sight of her toddling towards him in a white cover-up that concealed her bright pink bathing suit, tiny aviators, and a floppy white sun hat. “Look at you looking like a little beachy princess,” he chuckled as he scooped her into his arms. “Are you ready for our day at the beach?” Sophia nodded with a clap of her hands. “Is mommy ready?”
They both looked at Amara at the same time, and she forced a smile. “I’m ready.”
****
When Bastien pulled into the private parking lot of the beach, Amara turned her face away from the window, shielding her eyes from the flashes of the cameras. The press had been camped outside of the gate when they left the palace and had followed them. Having spent so much time tracking the royal family’s movements, it didn’t take them long to realize where they were headed; they raced ahead so they were there waiting when they arrived. 
When Liam exited the vehicle, the press, who were contained behind another gate where two more guards stood to ensure they didn’t cross, began shouting his name. He turned and tossed his hand up in a wave as they snapped photos before turning back toward the vehicle. 
Liam met Amara’s gaze as she finished unbuckling Sophia from her car seat. “Here we go …” 
Liam lifted Sophia from her seat and into the safety of his arms, and when he pulled her from the vehicle, the frenzy ensued. The press shouted louder as the shutters from their cameras went off. Sophia turned her head toward the clamor as her grip on his shirt tightened. “It’s ok, little love,” he whispered. 
Occupied by their first glimpses of the princess, the press almost missed the moment Amara came into view. Almost. The moment they noticed her, more shouts ensued as their cameras continued to snap photos. 
“Why is she with you, King Liam?”
“Anything to say about your betrayal to the King, Ms. Onasis?”
“Will she be leaving Cordonia soon?”
“Will the Princess be staying?”
Amara turned so her back was toward them and inhaled a deep breath. She felt Liam’s hand on her shoulder a moment later and looked up at him; he gestured toward the path that led to the beach and she nodded before starting toward it. 
Once down on the beach, Amara set the bag she’d packed beside one of the chairs that were set up beneath an umbrella. She glanced around, taking in the silence, feeling a little more at ease, but only for a moment before she saw the press hurrying toward the edge of the barrier. The guards were already in place, ensuring they stayed on the other side, and they were far enough away where they wouldn’t be a bother, but just knowing they were there at all had her right back on edge. 
“Did you hear me?”
Amara snapped her gaze to Liam. “No. I’m sorry … what did you say?”
“Sunscreen?” Liam pointed to Sophia.
“Yeah.” Amara shook her head and crouched down next to the bag, pulling out the sunscreen she’d packed for her.
Liam set Sophia down on the chair, and Amara removed her tiny cover-up before smothering her in sunscreen. Once she was finished, she stood and turned to see a now shirtless Liam setting up the toys he’d brought on the massive beach blanket that was laid out for them; he’d slipped inside the tent just behind their chairs to change. She turned away from him and closed her eyes; between the press and him, her mind was jumbled.
“Ready?” Liam’s voice sounded from behind her, and she turned, but he was speaking to Sophia. He scooped her up and set her on the edge of the blanket so she could reach the sand before laying on his side next to her. 
Amara stood and stared at the two of them as they played. Then her gaze flickered to the edge of the beach where the press remained, continuing to snap photos. She couldn’t help but wonder what story they were going to try and spin from this. 
“Are you going to join us?” Liam asked.
Amara looked back at him. “Uh … yeah.” She kicked off her flip-flops before reaching down and grabbing the hem of her cover-up to remove it but froze as her eyes lifted to the press again. She casually brushed her hand against the fabric of the cover-up as she moved toward the blanket and sat down on the other side of Sophia. 
Liam looked up at her, squinting against the bright sun. “Did you not bring a suit?” he asked, gesturing to her cover-up that was still on. 
“I’m … I’m fine right now,” Amara lied as she looked out at the water. She wasn’t fine. 
Under the heat of the Mediterranean sun and the watchful eyes of the press, Amara was hot and flustered … but she didn’t want to take off the cover-up, afraid of what story the press would spin from it. Would they say she was trying to seduce him into forgiveness by flouncing around in a bikini? Would they criticize her for said bikini because she was the mother of the heir and not setting the example they thought she should? Hell, she was afraid to even look at Liam for a second too long, knowing what type of story one photo of that could paint. 
Liam stared at Amara as she gazed out at the water. He knew something was bothering her and he didn’t have to ask what it was. She’d been on edge the past week since they planned this first outing, and when he saw her this morning, he knew she hadn’t eased up. It was easy for him to ignore the presence of the press because he’d grown up with it and learned to drown them out a long time ago. Amara, however, wasn’t used to being on this side of things. On top of that, she was consumed by how her presence would rub off on him and Sophia and worried what stories would be in the papers the next morning. Because of that, she was being careful. Too careful, considering she wouldn’t even remove her cover-up. 
“Amara,” Liam said, and she glanced at him. “Relax.”
“I am relaxed.”
Liam snorted. “No, you’re not.” She dropped his gaze and bit her lip self-consciously. “Hey, look at me,” he whispered, but she shook her head. “Look at me.” She hesitated another moment before glancing up. “Don’t pay them any mind. It’s just you and me here, ok? Just us.”
Amara held his gaze. He knew exactly what was running through her mind without her having to say a word. And she felt the sincerity behind his words from the way he looked at her. But she needed to defuse the situation before her stupid heart took any of it to mean something more than it really did. “And Soph,” she quipped. 
“Yes,” Liam shook his head with a small smile. “But you know what I meant.” With Sophia occupied with filling her bucket full of sand one small scoop at a time, he laid on his back, tucking his arms under his head as he closed his eyes. “Take off the damn cover-up and enjoy yourself.” 
Liam heard her let out a quiet chuckle, and after another beat of silence, he could hear the quiet shift of the fabric against her skin. He opened one eye and inconspicuously slid it in her direction; his chest tightened at the sight of her body in the navy blue bikini before he quickly snapped the eye shut. 
****
That night, Liam and Amara put Sophia to bed inside her room in the north wing. They’d spent the entire day at the beach, playing in the water and lounging on the shore. Once they returned to the palace, she’d taken a bath, and barely made it through dinner before she passed out in Liam’s arms. 
The press had watched them the entire day, but Amara took Liam’s advice and ignored them as best as she could. She knew she had to come to terms with the fact that they were going to write what they wanted and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it except suck it up and deal with it. 
They quietly shut Sophia’s door behind them before creeping down the hall, stopping in front of the living area. “She racked out,” Liam quietly chuckled. 
Amara smiled as she leaned against the entryway, crossing her arms and tucking her hands beneath them. “She had fun today.”
“Minus the evil wave,” Liam quietly laughed. 
Amara jutted her lip out in a pout before bowing her head and covering her mouth with her hand to contain her laugh at the memory of the wave that washed away the sandcastle they’d helped Sophia build. She was not happy, and her extreme meltdown over the loss was when they knew it was probably time to pack it up and leave. 
“I thought she was going to try and kick that wave’s ass,” Liam chuckled. 
Amara snorted against her palm before looking back up at him, and when she did, a strand of her hair caught on her eyelashes. Instinctively, Liam reached up to brush it away. 
The air suddenly felt very thick as they stared at each other and both their smiles slowly faded. 
Snapping from his momentary daze, Liam quickly dropped his hand. “Uh … sorry. You had — your hair, I mean … it was …” He trailed off and blew out a breath. 
Amara continued to stare at him, feeling a bit bemused as her heart and mind argued over what just happened and what it meant. Nothing, she told herself. It was nothing. “Yeah … uh, thanks.”
“Well … I should probably …” Liam gestured over his shoulder to the door. “I have sand in places where there shouldn’t be sand and need to shower,” he chuckled, earning a laugh from her. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I’ll let you know when she’s up so we can meet for breakfast.” 
“Sounds good.” 
Liam leaned down and kissed her cheek, letting it linger a heartbeat longer than normal before he drew back; he met her gaze for a split second before he turned and opened the door, quickly disappearing into the hall.
*******
Sitting inside his study, Liam read over an article from Trend magazine, detailing his and Amara’s outing over the past weekend in Applewood; he was needed there to go over a proposal to expand the orchids and invited Amara to bring Sophia. The article had several photos printed beside it, each one from a distance; a few of him and Sophia as they walked through the orchids, some of just her, and a few of the three of them together.
It had been nearly a month since that first outing at the beach, and the many they had after seemed to be doing the job they were intended to do. Most of the press — Trend being one — had done exactly what Daniel had said and followed his lead, looking beyond the past and focusing on the here and now. A few remained skeptical, however, questioning Amara’s motives for remaining in Cordonia and her intentions going forward. They didn’t know that she’d already decided to stay because he had yet to make a public statement. He knew he would need to make one soon, though; he’d spoken to Daniel, who told him the next step would be for the people to hear directly from him since they hadn’t at all since Sophia’s existence had been made public nearly two months ago. 
Liam was happy to know that things with the press were starting to settle down. What wasn’t settling down were his feelings for Amara. Each night after they would put Sophia to bed, the length of time they lingered behind got longer. They went from a few moments of simple conversation to now talking over drinks or a late-night snack about their day and making plans for the next. They had gotten closer and had fallen back into a place where things didn’t feel so tense. 
It was comfortable. 
It was familiar. 
Every day they spent together chipped away at those reservations Liam had and drew out his feelings even more. And every day he came closer and closer to throwing caution to the wind and taking that leap. 
Hearing a knock on his study door, Liam called for them to enter; when it opened, he lifted his gaze from the magazine article just as Amara stepped inside with Sophia. 
“Dada!” 
“Hi, little love,” Liam grinned as he stood and walked around his desk; he crouched down as she toddled toward him and he scooped her into his arms, smothering a mix of playful kisses and raspberries against her cheeks as she giggled.
“Hope we’re not interrupting anything,” Amara said.
Liam situated Sophia on his hip. “Not at all,” he replied before leaning forward to kiss her cheek; his hand brushed down the length of her arm as he drew back. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 
“I wanted to come talk to you.”
“About?”
“I’m going to have to make a trip to New York.” 
Liam looked at her. “Oh?”
“My lease is up at the end of the month,” Amara explained. “I’ve been putting it off, hoping to have found a place beforehand, but that hasn’t happened yet.”
Despite the surprise her words gave him, Liam kept his expression impassive. “I hadn’t realized you’d been looking.” 
“Well, I haven’t … not really, I mean. I’ve perused some listings, but I’m still weighing my options between renting or buying and haven’t made a decision yet. But I can’t put off packing up my apartment any longer since I only have a couple of weeks. And I’ll have to clear out my office space as well.” 
Liam nodded. “Ok. Are you thinking this weekend, or …?”
“I wanted to check with you first,” Amara said. “I didn’t know if you had anything going on, and I figured you’d want Soph to stay here with you.” 
Liam thought for a moment as he glanced at Sophia; he scrunched his nose with a smile when she offered him one of her toothy grins. “How about we go together?” 
Amara’s brows rose in surprise. “You … you want to go?”
“Sure,” Liam shrugged as he looked back at her. “Let Imogen know, and we can leave Friday and take the weekend … get it all done in one shot so you don’t have to worry about going back for anything. There’s plenty of room on the jet to store whatever you need to bring back with you.”
Amara stared at him for a moment. “If you’re sure …” 
“I am,” Liam smiled. “I’ll have Bastien make arrangements.” 
*******
A few mornings later, the SUV pulled up on the tarmac, stopping alongside the waiting jet. Liam glanced out the window at the press that were huddled together on the other side of a barrier.
“How did they know we would be here?” Amara asked.
Liam sighed with a shrug. “They always manage to find things out one way or another.” He looked over to where she sat on the other side of Sophia’s car seat. “Get her on the jet. I’ll handle them.” 
Amara nodded and unbuckled Sophia’s straps before lifting her out of the seat. A guard opened the door and she and Imogen slid out; she ignored the volley of shouted questions from the press as she carried Sophia up the stairs and disappeared inside the jet. 
“Sir?” Bastien said from the driver’s seat.
Liam looked up, meeting his gaze in the rearview mirror as the other two guards took their luggage and Sophia’s car seat to the jet. “I’ll talk to them.” 
Bastien nodded before getting out and opening Liam’s door. When the King came into view, the press shouted at him; he was a picture of calm as he buttoned his suit jacket and made his way toward the crowd. 
“King Liam, where are you headed?” Donnie Brine from the CBC asked as Liam neared. 
“I’ll be in New York for a few days,” Liam answered.
Another slew of shouted questions ensued, and they were all asking the same thing in various ways: is Amara leaving with Sophia? Thinking back on his several conversations with Daniel over the past couple of weeks, and knowing he could use this as an opportunity to put any more doubts about her intentions to rest, he decided to be transparent. 
Liam held up his hand to quiet them, and once he had their attention, he cleared his throat. “We’re headed to New York for the weekend to pack up Ms. Onasis’ belongings as she will be staying in Cordonia permanently so that I may continue to maintain a relationship with our daughter.”
More questions were immediately volleyed, but one in particular had caught his attention.
“Are you concerned she’ll try to leave again with the princess?”
Liam sighed, knowing they were referring to what was mentioned in Daniel’s statement. “The circumstances surrounding Ms. Onasis trying to leave in the past were entirely different.”
“Can you elaborate?” a reporter asked, holding their recorder out in front of him.
Transparency, he reminded himself. “Ms. Onasis had been spooked by the betrothal aspect of the alliance that Auvernal had been pushing for. When she learned of the blackmail threat, she became frightened of what that meant for our daughter, and in a moment of panic, yes, she tried to leave. But as a mother, she was trying to protect her child … and that’s not something I can or will fault her for. As for the move … she’s uprooting her entire life to ensure that the princess and I stay together, and I’m extremely grateful that she’s so willing to do that.” 
The reporters stared at Liam in a bout of awed silence, and a heartbeat later, they were shouting more questions.
“Will they be staying with you at the palace?”
“What’s the status of your relationship with Ms. Onasis?” 
“Are you rekindling your romance?” 
They’d changed their tune so fast, it gave Liam whiplash. He let out a breath, feeling a bit lighter, but decided he wasn’t answering any more questions. He didn’t really have the answers at the moment anyway. He threw his hand up in a wave before turning and heading towards the jet. 
****
After the long flight and traffic-jammed ride from the airport, Liam and Amara arrived at their hotel in New York that afternoon; they’d planned to arrive early enough to leave them time for Sophia to hopefully nap off the jet lag. 
Once Sophia was asleep in the guest room of the suite, Liam sent Imogen to her own room that was situated across the hall to rest. He plopped onto the sofa in the living area while Amara stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, taking in the view. 
“Have you missed it?” Liam asked. 
Amara shrugged. “Certain things, like pizza and breakfast bagels, yes,” she chuckled. “But other than that … not particularly, no.” 
Liam stood and came next to her. “Where’s your apartment from here?”
“About 15 minutes that way,” Amara pointed. “It’s in Tribeca.” They were at the Millennium in lower Manhattan. “And my office is only a block from there.” 
“Have you made any decisions regarding your company and what you plan to do?”
“Not yet,” Amara shook her head. “We’re on a bit of a pause at the moment until I figure things out. Daniel hasn’t decided whether he’s staying yet, but with both Riley and I now there and him not having anything tying him down here …” She shrugged. “But I could still run the company from there and set up an office … or I could sell it …”
“You’d really consider selling it?” 
“If that’s what needs to be done … yes,” Amara answered. And I know a couple of competitors that would probably be more than willing to take it off my hands.”
Liam leaned against the window frame as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “You seem pretty content for someone giving up so much of themself on a whim.” 
Amara looked back out the window. “I wouldn’t say it’s on a whim.” 
Liam’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean …” Amara paused, taking in a breath and slowly letting it out. “I mean that all of this was stuff I’ve thought about from the moment I found out I was pregnant.” She tucked her hands beneath her arms as she fought against the urge to look at him. “I always thought about the what-ifs … and I planned out all these different scenarios in my head for the day I finally drummed up enough courage to … to tell you. And in all of those scenarios, the outcome was the same … I was leaving New York, and either running the company from where I was or selling it. Now that I think about it … it was never really a what-if, but more of a when.” 
Liam remained silent for a moment before speaking. “I just … I don’t want this move to be something you come to regret later on.” 
“It’s for you and Sophia.” Amara looked up at him again. “I would never regret it.” 
Liam stared at her, not having realized until that moment how close they’d shifted to one another, and he saw the moment she realized it, too. Her gaze was both hesitant and questioning, but then she looked away from him and took a step back. 
“Um … I think I’m going to nap while Sophia is.” 
“Yeah.” Liam cleared his throat as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I, uh … I’m actually not that tired, so I can listen for her if you want to go lay down in the master.” He’d already offered for her to take the bigger of the two rooms. 
“Ok,” Amara nodded.
Liam watched Amara turn and heard her let out a breath as she disappeared inside the room. 
*******
The following morning, Liam and Amara headed over to her apartment while Imogen stayed with Sophia at the hotel. Liam had arranged for a moving company to meet them there to take the boxes she would be bringing back and load them on the jet. From what she’d told him, most of it would consist of her and Sophia’s clothes. Anything she didn’t need, she planned to throw out or donate. 
When they pulled up outside of the tall brick building, Liam slid out before turning to help Amara out. They greeted the staff of the moving company that was already there waiting before heading inside. 
After riding the elevator up to the seventh floor, they stepped out, and Liam followed Amara down the hall. She paused in front of a door and unlocked it, and when she pushed it open and stepped inside, he followed. 
Liam glanced around as he moved further inside. He’d never seen her apartment, but it was exactly what he pictured her having. Casual with a touch of modern sophistication. “This is nice.”
Amara looked around fondly; she’d always loved her apartment. “Thanks.” 
“Where should we start, Miss?” a voice spoke from the doorway. 
Amara turned to the movers lingering in the hall. “Uh …” She glanced around. “Living room and kitchen.” She then looked at Liam. “We can get started on Sophia’s room and then mine.”
“Lead the way,” Liam gestured. 
****
Within a couple of hours, most of the apartment had been boxed up. While the movers carried boxes from the kitchen, living room, and Sophia’s room down to the truck, Liam and Amara finished up in her room. 
“I’m going to take this out,” Amara said when she finished taping the last box of her shoes shut. 
Liam nodded. “I’ll bring the nightstand out for you.”
“Thank you,” Amara replied before pushing the box out the door and down the hall.
Turning to the nightstand next to the bed, Liam reached down and hooked his fingers under the lip of the top. He lifted it, and when he realized it was heavier than he anticipated, he tilted it to adjust his hold; the movement caused the drawer to slide out of it and crash to the floor. 
“Shit.” 
Liam set the nightstand back down before kneeling to pick up the contents from the drawer now scattered on the floor. As he scooped up the items, something caught his eye, and he froze as he stared at it. A photo. He reached down and grabbed it, bringing it closer, only to notice another beneath it. And they weren’t just any photos, but ones of him and Amara. He remembered the night the one he held in his hand was taken. They were watching a movie in his quarters and were on the sofa; she was resting back against his chest with his arms wrapped tightly around her and his face was playfully nuzzling her neck with a grin as she smiled. He picked up the other from the floor. It was of them in the maze; she was on his back with her arms looped around his neck, both of them laughing. 
At that moment, at the sight of those photos, at the realization that she’d kept them all this time, Liam felt the last of the reservations he’d been holding onto crumble. He wanted to be the two people in those photos again. 
Two people who could make each other laugh and smile.
Two people who were better when they were together. 
Two people who were happy and in love.
“Liam?” Amara’s voice carried down the hall. 
Liam snapped from his daze and cleared his throat. “Coming.” He placed the rest of the items back in the drawer but slipped the photos into his back pocket before standing and carrying the nightstand out. 
****
That night, Amara stood out on the balcony of the hotel suite while Liam put Sophia into bed. She stared out at the view of the city she’d called home all her life, but she couldn’t say she’d miss it all that much. 
“Penny for your thoughts?” Liam said behind her.
Amara glanced over her shoulder, and her eyes followed him as he came to stand beside her. “Nothing,” she said, “just … taking in the view. Did she go down ok?”
“Yeah,” Liam nodded as he leaned against the railing. “Out like a light.” He glanced out at the view, staying quiet for a moment before looking over at her. “Are you going to miss it?”
“No … not really,” Amara answered. “I think … I think I’m ready to start over somewhere else.” 
Liam stared at her for a moment before taking her answer for the opening it was. “Speaking of starting over …” He stood upright and reached back, pulling the two photos from his back pocket. “When we were packing … these fell out of your nightstand drawer.” 
Amara focused on the photos in his hand, fighting against looking at him as she blinked away the sting in her eyes. “Yeah …” 
“I didn’t realize you had them.” 
“I …” Amara let out a soft breath and cast her gaze to the ground.
Liam’s thumb slid under her chin and he lifted her eyes to his. “No more secrets.” 
Amara swallowed. “I would look at them … in hopes I could convince myself to reach out to you … to tell you about Sophia.” She fell quiet for a moment before speaking again, her next words coming out just above a whisper. “And on days when I missed you … which was all the time … I’d look at them to remind myself of what it felt like to be whole … because that’s what being with you made me feel. Whole and complete … and happy.”
Liam searched her eyes for a moment, and in the next, he leaned down, capturing her lips in his. Amara stiffened in surprise, needing to rest her hands against his chest to keep herself upright, but when his arm curled around her waist and pulled her closer, she went more than willingly. When her lips parted against his, she felt his tongue softly curl against hers, so slowly at first it was as if he were trying to savor the moment, but then he deepened the kiss, and she gripped his shirt to steady herself.
Forcing himself not to get too caught up, Liam drew back. It took her a moment to open her eyes, and they stared at each other in silence for a few heartbeats before she looked away from him. He could see the self-consciousness fill her expression and realized it was because she determined that he must have thought what just happened was a mistake … but she was wrong. 
“I want to go back to being the two people in these photos. I want this again.” Liam held up the pictures. When she looked at him again, he saw the surprise in her eyes, like she couldn’t believe what he was saying. “I want this … I want us. But I want to slow down because I want us to be sure when we go in, if not for our sakes, then for Sophia’s.” 
At his words, a tear trickled down Amara’s cheek, and he reached up, brushing it away with his thumb. “I didn’t think … after what I’d done—”
“When I told you I was leaving the past in the past, I meant it, Amara,” Liam interrupted. “I just need to know if you want the same … that you’re willing to try.”
Amara took in a shuddered breath as her tear-filled eyes searched his. And then she nodded. “I want the same,” she whispered. 
Liam dropped his hand from her face and curled his fingers around hers. “Then we take it day by day once we get back home … and we’ll see how things go.” 
***************************************
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karahalloway · 3 months
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(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 16 - Snakes in the Garden
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Fandom: TRR
Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)
Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.
Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions
Chapter Summary: Harper greets the world as the new Duchess of Valtoria, but that is not the only newsworthy item that rocks the Apple Harvest Festival...
Word Count: 7,300
Rating/Warnings: M (swearing, angst, possible ulterior motives)
Chapter theme song:
A/N1: Things are slowly coming to a head! Thanks for bearing with me on this series - I know I have a lot of other projects in the works, so I have not been updating as much as I probably should. But, we are finally getting to the exciting parts (as if what's happened until now hasn't been exciting 🤣) as after this chapter, we are into the meat of the engagement tour, and all the juicy plot changes that I have been wanting to write for over a year will finally come to a fore! *evil laugh*
A/N2: If you have not heard of TURN - the TV show from which I borrowed the chapter theme song - then, I can highly recommend it (especially if you like historical dramas, US history (specifically the Revolutionary War period), or just really good story-telling)!
A/N3: This is also much submission for @choicesjanuary2024 Day 12: Smiles / Secret
Chapter 16 - Snakes in the Garden
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"Are you sure I look okay?" I ask, nervously pulling at the high-necked strip of emerald lace that circles my throat.
"Stop fiddling!" Bertrand berates, slapping my hand away. "We are running late as it, and we cannot afford to lose any more time to last minute touch-ups!"
"Yeah, but—"
"You look great, Harper," Maxwell assures me with a beaming smile. "Marcie did a great job."
The petite make-up artist that the Beaumonts had procured out of thin air bobs a curtsy to my right. "It was my pleasure, Your Grace."
Her words hit me like a whiplash.
Your Grace.
My new form of address. One I'm not sure I'm ever going to get used to. Lady Harper had been one thing, but that had always felt like a curtesy. A temporary formality that had been extended to me by virtue of my sponsorship by the Beaumonts during the social season.
But there is nothing temporary about my current situation. The weight of the ring on my hand — and its implications — bears down heavily on my finger... and my thoughts. Especially since I still haven't found a moment alone with Drake to finish our conversation from this morning... or bring him up to speed on my new status.
Because no sooner had my ennoblement been sealed with the very expensive — and very potent — champagne, than the Beaumonts had shown back up (somewhat mercifully) to crash Christian's surprise party.
And from there it had been a whirlwind of hair, makeup and outfitting for the all-important Apple Harvest Festival where I am due to make my grand debut as the new Duchess of Valtoria.
A position of some importance — Bertrand has stressed, multiple times — given that in addition to the impressive estate that I am now the official caretaker of, I also have a seat on the infamous Council, as well as a seat on the even more exclusive Privy Council. Not to mention my own fleet of staff, vehicles, bank accounts, and carefully curated online profiles.
Which is why — on top of everything — the ever-industrious press corps have worked at record speed to throw the fruits of yesterday's labours together into an exclusive, twelve-page spread as part of a special edition of Trend magazine, which dropped this morning.
And while I haven't actually had a chance to read through the copy that currently sits on the coffee table of my room (together with every other major national and international news publication), Maxwell has assured me that the social media reactions have — so far — been positive. The snaps of my stress-fuelled efforts at yesterday's apple pick have apparently helped.
Which means that Jonathan's PR gamble is starting to pay dividends, and I now have a public image to maintain. Not just for myself, but for Cordonia as well. Because when I step outside today, I'll be representing everything that the kingdom under Christian's burgeoning rule is striving to be — beauty, modernity, opportunity.
Definitely not the best day to wake up with a litany of awkwardly situated bruises!
Thankfully, both Maxwell and Bertrand seem to have had a chance to pull themselves together after this morning's surprising (and definitely explosive!) turn of events, and — after the initial shock — have set about covering for mine and Drake's mess with the same coordinated precision that they employed to pull the Beaumont Bash out of their butts.
With the result that they somehow managed to transform me from the black and blue disaster I woke up as, into the picture of a polished and refined lady.
I glance apprehensively out at the bright sunshine blanketing the hills. Hopefully, the carefully applied window-dressing survives the literal trial by fire it's about to be subjected to. Because just like yesterday, the temperature is set to climb into the mid-90's today as well, which means I'll most likely end up sweating buckets again, thanks to the Edwardian nature of my dress's neckline.
And what I definitely don't need today is for all the blush and cover-up getting smudged away so that everyone at the event can start speculating about the intimate placement of my of hickeys!
I close my eyes wearily. God, I can't wait for all this to be over...
"No catnaps!" snaps Bertrand, slapping a wide-brimmed hat onto my head. "The people are waiting on us!"
I barely have time to grab my matching clutch before the Beaumonts are whisking me out of my room and down the length of the corridor towards the manor's lawn.
"Surely the Festival can start without us...!" I gasp as I stumble after Bertrand in my heels.
"No, it cannot," he reprimands. "All members of the Council must be present for the ceremonial tree planting."
I frown. "Tree planting? Isn't that a little... agrarian for the aristos?"
"It is a time-honoured tradition!" corrects Bertrand. "Cordonia owes its existence and livelihood to the noble Ruby, so it is the duty of the Council to ensure that the fruits of our bounty are secured for future generations! Hence, the requirement to plant new saplings at the end of each harvest!"
"If you say so..." I concede as we pass through the back doors of the manor.
Based on what I saw at the apple pick, Bertrand's pronouncement seems optimistic at best, given that none of the aristos even bothered to lift a finger to a tree yesterday.
But, looks can always be deceiving, so maybe today is the day that the I am pleasantly surprised for once.
A deafening cheer erupts as the Beaumonts and I step out onto the manor's steps.
Snapping my head towards the source of the commotion, I see what appears to be thousands of people crammed behind velvet-lined cordons, screaming and jostling for position like they're in the front row of a Taylor Swift concert...
...and it takes me a second to realise that it's my name that they're shouting.
"Duchess!"
"Lady Harper, we love you!"
"You're the true Apple Queen, no matter what anyone says!"
"Wow..." I blink, taken aback by the fervency of the crowd's reaction. "I didn't realise I had such a rabid following..."
"Best wave to them," suggests Maxwell, leaning in as he raises his arm into the air with a wide smile.
"Okay..." I concede hesitantly, turning to the crowd to do the same.
The last time I experienced anything remotely like this had been on the red carpet at the Derby — my first public outing as a suitor. But even the bright flash of the cameras and the intrusive questions that the reporters had flung at me paled in comparison to the reaction I am receiving today.
Phones and cameras are thrust into the air as the Beaumonts and I descend the manor's stairs to the accompaniment of the increasingly frenzied cheers and shouts of encouragement. Even a few bouquets of flowers fly through the air, narrowly missing my hat.
And I can't help but smile in the face of the genuine outpouring of support from the crowd. Because it sure as heck feels good to be on top for once!
However, arriving at the edge of the orchard where the tree planting ceremony is due to take place, I am greeted by a very different type of welcome.
Snooty expressions drip down the ends of aristocratic noses as the members of the Council pass silent judgment on my somewhat bombastic entrance.
"They're just jealous," Maxwell whispers to me as we take up our spots at the edge of the gathering.
"Yeah..." I agree with a stilted voice. "That's what I'm worried about."
I know firsthand of the lengths that these people are willing to go to in order to exact vengeance for perceived slights. And I did not particularly feel like painting a target on my back a second time while I am still trying to recover from the hurt caused by the first.
Maybe this is a mistake...
But I don't have time to think on it long, because the public erupts into an even more deafening outburst as Christian appears with Madeleine on his arm.
"Look at her..." snips a voice from behind me. "Acting like she's Queen already."
I whip around in disbelief. "Olivia!"
The Duchess of Lythikos cuts her green eyes over at me with a derisive look. "Oh, don't look so surprised, Harper. Just because you are now a duchess, does not mean that the rest of us have taken early retirement."
"Trust me," I grumble under my breath, "this was not the plan."
"Opportunities multiply as they are seized," she replies sagely.
I quirk a brow at her. "Meaning?"
"Meaning," she expounds surly, "opportunity breeds opportunity. And only by exploiting every advantage will you uncover previously hidden gains. Do they not teach The Art of War inyour schools?"
"No..."
She scoffs under her breath. "Explains a lot."
I roll my eyes at her as Christian and Madeleine pause on the steps for photos and a couple of quick sound bites. "I guess this means your sabbatical was productive?"
"Exceedingly."
I heave a breath. "At least one of us is making progress..."
"Oh, don't sell yourself short," she counters out of the corner of her mouth. "Your recent advancements have served as a welcome distraction..."
"Not sure if that’s a compliment, or not..." I admit sourly.
"You have more power than you realise," she insists quietly. "Make sure you use it."
"Wow..." I mutter, glancing over at her in genuine surprise. "Friendly advice from the Scarlet Duchess? What else have you learnt during your time away?"
"Our interests are temporarily aligned, nothing more," she replies, shooting daggers across the lawn towards Madeleine. "And I'll fill you in shortly."
"Well, it's good to have you back, regardless," I say with a dip of my head. "Your Grace."
Olivia shoots me a sidelong look. "Don't get sentimental on me, Duchess."
But I can see the hint of a smile pulling at her lips.
Christian and Madeleine arrive at the edge of the trees. Stepping up to the row of waiting saplings, Christian pulls a stack of notecards out of his pocket and delivers a short speech to the click of the cameras.
As the mandatory applause dies down, he slots the pieces of paper carefully away... and pulls off his jacket.
"What are you doing?" hisses Madeleine as the crowd descends into a hubbub of excited reactions.
"Taking a leaf out of the Duchess of Valtoria's book," he replies, handing his jacket off to the closest shocked Councillor as he sets about rolling up his sleeves.
"Out of—!" Madeleine bristles in indignation, while trying to maintain an outwardly calm composure. "The only thing you have taken is leave of your senses! Now get back here and—!"
Ignoring his fiancée's outburst, Christian grabs the ribbon-bedecked shovel out of the hands of the footman that was holding it, and steps up to a clear patch of grass. Adjusting his grip on the handle, he digs the metal blade decisively into the ground to the accompanying slew of clicking camera shutters.
"Shall we?" asks Olivia with a sly smirk as she pushes her way to the front of the line of gawping nobles.
"Let's," I agree, instantly catching onto her plan.
"Lady Harper!" hisses Bertrand from behind me. "What do you think you're—?"
"Lending a hand to the King," I throw back over my shoulder as I step to the front of the row of aristos who are looking mutely onto the sight of their monarch working up an actual sweat before them.
Grabbing another shovel from the pile in the corner — these ones obviously having seen some honest work already, judging by the dirt encrusted on their faces — I join the King of Cordonia in enlarging the hole in the ground.
Because regardless of Christian's underlying motives for ennobling me, and whatever his broader game may be, what he is doing right now is bigger than me, bigger than him, bigger than any of us. And that deserves recognition. Especially when he is taking such active — and public — strides towards being the change he wants to see unfurl during his rule. Where the ruling class doesn't just offer empty platitudes and hollow ceremony, but actually practices what it preaches. So, what better way to do that, than by planting the seeds of change in front of thousands of people in the literal heart of the kingdom?
Christian rewards my arrival with a nod and a smile as I take up position next to him.
Hefting my shovel, I slice it into the earth that he's already uncovered, using the somewhat flimsy sole of my heeled sandals to drive it deeper.
Scooping the blade back out, I suddenly feel a presence to my left. Looking up, I see that Maxwell has also joined our impromptu work crew.
Throwing me a wink, he drops his shovel in next to mine.
With the three of us working on tandem, it takes us almost no time at all to dig out a hole large enough to house the new apple tree.
Wiping the sweat from my forehead — the weatherman had not lied, that's for sure! — I see that Olivia, with some assistance from Hana, has already prepared the sapling by shunting it closer to the hole and removing the burlap covering from its roots.
Laying down our shovels, we help her manoeuvre the tree to the edge of the dint. Cheers and applause rise up from the onlookers as the sapling thuds into the earth. Olivia uses one of the knives from her hidden arsenal to slice off the twines holding the branches together, and the tree unfurls itself with a satisfied snap.
"Your Majesty!" shouts a reporter, who I recognise as Frederick Capone. "One for the Cordonian Times, if you please!"
"And for the CBS!" adds Donald Brine, muscling his way to the front.
"Certainly," accedes Christian graciously, holding his arm out. "It was a group effort, after all."
We all gather in — sweaty and dirty, but smiling — as the press corps immortalises the scene...
...and I innocuously sweep my hair over my shoulder in a vain effort to try and hide any bruises that may have become uncovered as a result of the unplanned exertion.
"Thank you for joining me in my moment of impulsivity," Christian acknowledges softly as the bulbs flash.
"Please," scoffs Olivia out of the side of her mouth. "It was coordinated from the start."
"The people don't seem to mind," counters Hana with a demure smile as she faces the cameras.
"With the exception of about half-dozen," I note, glancing back at the disgruntled looks of the Councillors from behind us, as they try to save face by applauding our efforts together with the rest of the crowd.
"They'll fall in line." Christian assures me as he lifts his hand with a wave.
I feel a prick between my shoulder blades. Turning my head, I catch sight of the cold fire radiating out of Madeleine's gaze from behind the mask of her perfect smile.
"Maybe not everyone..." I mutter under my breath as I turn back towards the paps.
I'm already on Madeleine's shit list for daring to return to court after my very public humiliation and banishment. On the night of her engagement tour launch party, no less! So, the fact that I ended up upstaging her — again — probably means that I've sunk even further down the ladder of her estimations.
To what end, I have no idea. But I'm going to have to start being more careful from here on out.
Once the press are finally placated, we disperse across the lawn in search of some much-needed refreshments.
"Harper!"
I swallow a groan as I'm brought up short, mere steps from the freshly squeezed, rosemary-infused lemonade that I desperately need after toiling away in this heat. "What now, Bertrand...?"
"I... uhm..." He clears his throat as I turn to face him. "I wanted to apologise for my earlier outburst. It was unseemly... and in retrospect, short-sighted."
"What do you mean?" I ask with a frown. Bertrand very rarely — if ever! — apologised.
"The public reaction to the tree planting has been overwhelming," he clarifies, pulling his phone out.
My eyes bulge as I take in the view count on the screen. "A hundred thousand views already!"
"And counting," Bertrand adds. "And that is only one website."
"And look at the comments!" I exclaim, scrolling through the feed. "They're loving Maxwell as well!"
"Yes, it appears that my brother has a keener instinct for media relations than I do..."
"You should tell him that," I say. "It would mean the world to him."
Bertrand looks momentarily taken aback. "I... Well..." He clears his throat again. "Yes. Maybe I will. He deserves some recognition for his efforts in diverting — at least temporarily — the negative attention away from our financial predicaments."
"A simple hug and a 'thank-you' will do," I tell him with a knowing look.
Bertrand reels back in abject horror. "I will not subject my brother to such a sordid display of affection! Especially in public!"
I heave a sigh. "And there's your problem, right th—"
I trail off as I spot a familiar figure signalling to me from over Bertrand's shoulders.
"Excuse me," I say, palming Bertrand's phone back to him as I move towards one of the marquees that had been set up at the edge of the lawn.
Slipping inside the flap of the tent, I come face-to-face with Ana de Luca.
"Your Grace," she nods, dipping into a curtesy, something she hasn't deigned to do before. "Thank you for making the time."
"Ana," I nod in return, wondering why the influential editor of Trend chose to pull me away for a private meeting. Especially after I cornered her so forcefully at Madeleine's garden party a few days ago.
"I suppose congratulations are in order," she continues, straightening back up. "Since returning to court you have managed to elevate yourself not just in rank, but in the eyes of the public as well. Rolling your sleeves up in tandem with the King was a masterful piece of image enhancement."
"I didn't do it for myself," I reply evenly.
"Of course," she nods quickly. "We must all step in line with our new King. But your reputation is certainly reaping the benefits as well."
"As is your bottom line," I point out.
"Your initiative is markedly boosting sales of this month's special edition, as well as traffic to our website," she concedes. "For which Trend is very grateful. But that is not the reason I pulled you aside."
"What is it then?"
"I found out the name of the photographer," she replies, reaching into her handbag.
I feel my heart jump in my chest. "You're joking..."
She raises a brow at me from behind the lenses of her black-out Versace shades as she pulls a small flash-drive out. "I can assure you that I am not."
I quickly pull myself back together. "No. Of course not..."
Handing the drive over, she adds. "On there you will find all the pertinent information I was able to obtain through my own means."
"Thank you," I say sincerely, taking the piece of plastic from her. "I honestly was not expecting this..."
She shrugs an elegant shoulder. "I said I would look into it, so I did. It is not much, but I am sure you have people who can hopefully take it further."
"I do," I affirm, slotting the device into my clutch.
"After all," she adds with a knowing quirk to her lips. "You are not the only one with a vested interest in seeing your name cleared, Your Grace."
With another quick bob, she exits the marquee.
I let out a low exhale as the tent flap drops back into place in her wake. "Thank God..."
Some much-needed progress at last!
Hopefully, Drake can take the information from the drive and do a deep dive into the photographer to see if they ever crossed paths with whoever it is that has it in for me.
Which reminds me...
Opening my clutch up again, I pull my phone out and type up a quick message to my elusive boyfriend.
I haven't seen or heard from him since the event started. And now I have two pieces of critical information I need to share with him. So, rather than chasing after him like some damsel in distress, I'm going to make him come to me for a change. Because time is of the essence, and I don't want to wait.
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Hitting send, I exit the tent and head back towards the orchard. I figure that since everyone is on the lawn, the secluded garden hidden amongst the trees will give me and Drake the best chance to meet in private, away from the prying eyes of the court and the press.
Slipping between the tree trunks, I try to make my way as casually as possible through the orchard, as if I am simply out for a walk, in order to ward off potential suspicion. But, as I drift further away from the Festival, I start to pick up the pace, mindful of the short timeframe I gave Drake... as well as the exposed roots on the ground.
Because as much as I might want to hurry, I definitely don't want — or need — a twisted ankle the day before we're due to start the international leg of the trip. As Mom was right — I should take advantage of the upcoming whirlwind tour of Europe to at least try and get some sightseeing in. As who knows when I'll get the chance to do this again...
...especially if I'm forced to become a hermit because we fail to expose the mastermind behind the press scandal.
I shake my head. No. I need to stay positive. It's the only way I'm going to get through—
"Competing with a herd of elephants, Gale?"
I snap my gaze up at the sound of Drake's voice... and nearly trip over a hidden apple lodged in the grass.
"You try sneaking ‘round in four-inch heels," I grumble back at him, while using the trunk of a nearby tree to steady myself.
He mutters something under his breath as he steps over to me with an outstretched hand. "Here."
Grabbing his hand, I navigate gingerly away from the tree, only to find that the slightly rotten fruit has become impaled on the end of my stiletto.
"Great..." I groan, trying to flick the stupid thing off... But it stays stubbornly stuck.
"You're a walking disaster, y'know that, right?" drawls Drake as he drops down in front of me.
"Ha-ha, funny," I snark back at him while trying to balance on one foot on the uneven ground.
He meets my eye with a wry look as he finally manages to pull the offending fruit off with a squelch. "You're only gripin' 'cause it's true."
"Yeah, well, not all of us have... reflexes... like Neo..." I reply sardonically as I save myself from tipping over by grabbing onto Drake's shoulder.
He stifles a scoff as he tosses the apple into the trees. "You good?"
"Yeah," I confirm, righting myself again and letting go of his shirt.
Drake regards me critically for a long moment — as if expecting me to keel over again at the drop of a hat — before pushing himself up.
"Thanks," I say, laying an appreciative hand on his arm.
The humour fades from his gaze at the contact.
"Drake..." I start...
...but he's already pulled away.
"What did you want to talk about?" he asks, not quite meeting my eyes as he slots his hands into his pockets, the momentary lightness of our previous interaction gone.
I heave a breath.
We really need to talk about what happened this morning. But his suddenly standoffish demeanour makes it clear that he's not quite ready for that yet.
So, I decide to start with something less contentious.
"We have a lead on the photographer," I tell him, reaching into my clutch.
His head perks up with interest. "That was fast."
"Teamwork makes the dream work," I agree with a smile, pulling the flash drive back out and holding it out to him.
His posture suddenly stiffens. "The hell is that?"
I glance around me uncertainly. "What?"
"The fucking ring on your finger," he declares dispassionately, his accusatory gaze scorching into my outstretched hand.
My heart drops. Oh, no...
This is not how I wanted to break it to him. But unfortunately for both of us, the cat has now ripped itself out of the proverbial bag, so I'm just going to have to scamper after it.
Taking a steadying inhale, I look him square in the eye. "It's my new signet ring." I turn my hand over to show it to him.
His face darkens. "Fils de pute de—" he grits under his breath, snapping a hand out to grab my wrist.
My eyes widen. "Drake, what are y—?"
A storm is raging in his espresso gaze. "Signet rings go on the little finger. On the right hand."
"Oh," is all I can manage as he swipes the golden band off my left ring finger.
"You didn't know, did you?" he asks softly, reaching for my other hand... more gently this time.
I shake my head with a constricted throat. "No, I—"
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
My head jerks ‘round at the sound of the unexpected voice. "Christian!"
"I see you couldn't resist a somewhat impulsive stroll through the orchards, either?" he asks, more rhetorically than anything else. "The scent of apples is truly luscious this time of year."
"Erm... yes...!" I manage to squeak out, shoving my right hand behind my back. "Smells like apple juice!"
Christian's brow quivers ever so slightly at my slightly random — and obviously unexpected — comparison.
But I'm too busy coordinating with Drake to get the signet ring shoved back onto my hand while trying to palm the flash drive off to him without dropping either in the process. As both outcomes would lead to some very awkward conversations!
I feel the warmth of the metal slide onto the index finger of my hand (Drake had probably ascertained that the circumference of the band was too large for my pinky), and I'm finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.
Embarrassing backpedaling, narrowly averted!
Drake uses the opportunity to extract the flash drive from my hand as well, dropping the device casually into his pocket as he moves beside me. "She ain't wrong."
"No," concedes Christian, eying the two of us for a second longer than strictly comfortable. "She rarely is."
"So, umm... Are you hiding from the paps as well?" I ask in a bid to diffuse the growing tension in the air.
"No, I came looking for you, actually," he corrects, taking a step forward. "I saw you slip into the orchard, and thought it prudent to follow you."
"Oh?" I say, feeling my stomach tighten again. "Worried I might get lost?"
"I was hoping to catch you alone," he corrects, coming to a stop in front of me.
I swallow tightly as I see him glance over at Drake.
Please don't fight... Please don't fight...
Christian's gaze reverts to me. "But I suppose it is convenient for Drake to happen to be here as well."
My heart skips an uncomfortable beat. "It is?"
"Yes," he affirms. "I have received some news that you'll both be interested in hearing."
"Well, don't keep us in damn suspense, then..." mutters Drake with a noticeable edge to his voice.
I try to reach discretely out to brush my fingers against his, to reassure him that come what may, we'll get through it together, that—
"We found Tariq."
Christian's words hit me like a kick to the chest. The breath explodes out of me so forcefully that I am actually forced to take a step back in a bid to maintain my balance as the apple trees descend into a spin around me.
No way...
"Where?"
Drake's voice floats across the edge of my awareness. And even in my spaced-out state, I can feel the weight of the cold, calculated fury infused into that single word.
No corner... No mercy.
"Dubai," replies Christian, who also sounds like he's miles away. "He—"
But Drake's already spun away. "Send me the coordinates."
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"Harper?"
I blink up at Christian in a daze. "Huh?"
"Are you alright?" he asks, laying a concerned hand on my cheek. "You... You looked as if you were about to faint..."
"I..." I swallow past the sudden dryness in my throat. "I'm okay."
"Are you certain?" he presses, peering down at me. "I could ring for a doctor, and—"
"No," I insist, pulling away from him. "I'm fine. I... I guess I just got caught off-guard..."
"It is an unexpected development, certainly," he concedes. "But hopefully still a welcome one?"
"Yes!" I blurt out. "Of course! I want to clear my name more than anyone, and Tariq is key to that! I just..." My voice trails uncertainly off.
Christian flashes me a knowing half-smile. "Feel some trepidation about the prospect...?"
"I guess so," I concede, my fingers moving unconsciously to the horseshoe charm at my wrist.
Because as much as I may want Tariq to pay for what he did from a rational point of view, from an emotional standpoint, I’m terrified.
As even though I know in the back of my mind that a lot of my trepidation has to do with the fact that I am still trying to recover from the psychological trauma that Tariq inflicted on me, a major part of me is also scared of what setting the record straight would entail in practice.
Christian had mentioned that there were 'methods of persuasion' that could be used to force a confession from Tariq. But then what? Would I be made to very publicly relive the entire horrible episode in the form of TV spots and interviews, or would we be able to get by with one official press release? And given my spotty history with the press, will people actually believe my side of the story...?
I mean, Meghan and Harry didn’t exactly fare well in the court of public opinion when they tried to counter the official royal narrative...
On top of all that, in light of my very visceral reactions to returning to Applewood, I have no idea how I'm going to react to seeing Tariq in person again. Would I burst into tears? Have a nervous breakdown? Dissolve into a panic attack? Stab him in the gut and then the nuts?
And (possibly worst of all) what if we discover that Tariq had been acting alone? And his attack on me — while traumatising — is in no way connected to the larger, and definitely more dangerous plot to remove me from the running for Queen? What then...?
"Your qualms are not as misplaced as you may initially think," Christian consoles. "It is a daunting prospect to face the person who actively sought to harm you."
Something in his tone catches my attention. "What do you mean?"
Christian heaves a sigh. "I do not know if you are aware of this, but several years ago, I was the target of an assassination attempt."
I nod tightly. "Yes. Drake told me."
"Then I presume he also told you how deeply the experience affected me," he says, catching my eye with an uncharacteristically guarded look.
"Yes," I affirm, thinking back to the conversation in Olivia's wine cellar that felt like years ago.
"What he probably didn't tell you, however," he continues, "is that I visited the perpetrator in prison."
My jaw drops. "You what!"
"Not publicly and certainly not in any official capacity." He shakes his head wryly. "I did not even talk to the man."
"Then why...?"
"I... I was having trouble reconciling with what had happened," he explains. "And moving past it. The trauma councillor that I was working with suggested that it was perhaps because I was subconsciously endowing the gunman with too much power, and thereby transmuting the man into something more akin to an evil monster."
A shiver runs down my spine at Christian's words. It's like he's talking about Tariq...
"So, to help break the negative emotional associations I had built up, my councillor arranged a clandestine meeting where I would have the opportunity to face the man."
"How... How did that go?" I ask nervously.
"I was terrified, of course," Christian admits. "I had no idea what to expect and each scenario I imagined in my head was worse than the last. But, when I finally got into room where the meeting was to take place, I was surprised by what I saw. As rather than some hulking, shadowy fiend, it was a pale, somewhat diminutive man sat across from me."
"So… what did you do?"
"We simply sat at a table and stared at each other," he recounts. "He with more than a bit of contemptuous malice, I have to admit, but in that moment, I realised that he was a flesh-and-blood person who had fallen prey to the same misguided emotions as I — anger, fear, resentment — just manifested differently. And that helped set me onto the path of true healing. As ultimately, I was able to forgive him."
"Forgive him?" I gasp disbelievingly. "For trying to murder you?"
"Nobody acts in isolation," Christian advises calmly. "Even the most unconscionable horrors perpetrated by the villains of humanity — torture, mass murder, genocide — sprout from the basis of an emotional or psychological motivator such as love, fear, greed, jealousy... to name but a few. So, while we may disagree with and condemn the action retrospectively from the safety of the moral high-ground, it is very possible that had we found ourselves in a similar situation, we would end up being just as guilty as the person we are looking to condemn."
"So, what?" I demand testily. "I should feel sorry for Tariq for what he did to me?"
"Showing empathy and compassion towards our counterparts does not mean forgetting or excusing the harm suffered," counsels Christian. "But it will certainly allow you to start on the path of true healing."
I shake my head as I turn away. "I'm not sure Tariq deserves that..."
"It is by no means an easy assignment," he admits, laying a hand on my shoulder. "But even if you cannot find it in your heart presently to forgive him, do at least try to keep yourself open to the possibility down the line. You may be surprised by the results."
Looking up, I can see that there is sincerity welling on his emerald gaze. And — for once — I don't doubt the true intent of his words. "Thanks. I'll think about it."
"As diplomatic as ever," he smiles, the tips of his fingers brushing down my back as he drops his hand. "And, regardless of what you choose to do, I'll be right by your side to support you."
"Thanks," I mutter with what I hope is a genuine smile, suddenly acutely aware of the fact that with Drake’s abrupt departure, it’s just me and Christian amongst the trees. Taking a step back towards the way I’d come, I ask, "So, umm... How did you end up finding him?"
"Instagram," replies Christian with a wry chuckle as he falls into step beside me.
My head snaps up in bewilderment. "He posted his whereabouts?"
"No," he laughs, looping my arm through his in reassurance. "Not intentionally, at any rate. He took shelter on his cousin's yacht docked off the coast of the Palm Jumeirah, and—"
"What's that?" I ask with a frown.
"One of a trio of artificially constructed archipelagos located off the coast of Dubai," he explains. "They are so called for their shape, which resemble stylised palm trees."
"Sounds... fancy," I admit, while trying to maintain some semblance of platonic distance between the two of us.
"They really are a sight to behold," he affirms, pulling me back to his side. "But it is part of the reason why we were not able to locate him initially — we knew he has family in the Emirates, of course, but—"
"He does?" I interject in surprise. This is certainly news to me...!
"Yes," he nods. "His father is a Cordonian nobleman, but his mother hails from the House of Al Falasi, the branch of the Bani Yas tribe that also produced Dubai's ruling family."
My eyes widen. "So, his mom is royalty?"
"No," chuckles Christian. "She is not directly connected to the Al Maktoum dynasty. But her family is nevertheless influential in the region. Which is why when we hit a roadblock with the French authorities, we decided to focus our efforts on countries where we knew he had familial or business connections. The Emirates, however, boast a multitude of private airfields, not to mention water-based ports of entry, so attempting to narrow down Tariq’s possible time and method of arrival and determining where he went from there was providing to be a complex undertaking. Especially since we had to ensure to conduct our enquiries outside of the official channels."
"Specifically, via social media," I supply dryly.
"Yes," confirms Christian, only half jokingly. "When we realised that Tariq must have switched off or changed out his phone, Drake suggested that we set up a facial recognition-based search algorithm that could scour the various social media and news portals in a bid to help us pinpoint his exact location."
"That sounds... technical," I admit.
"A few years ago, it would have been, But the technology is relatively commonplace now, thankfully."
"So, you managed to get a hit?"
"Yes," he affirms. "One of his cousins on his mother's side posted a selfie featuring his new yacht a couple of days ago... and someone who partially matched Tariq's features was visible on the edge of the frame. But it wasn't until this morning that our man on the ground was able to obtain independent confirmation that it really was him."
"Wow..." I manage. "Talk about blind, dumb luck."
"Never underestimate the awesome power of serendipity," counsels Christian with a smile as we reach the edge of the trees again. "It certainly played a hand in crossing our paths."
I swallow nervously. "Yeah, I—"
"You have some nerve!"
Before I have a chance to realise what is happening, Madeleine has swooped in from seemingly out of nowhere to intercept us with all the wrathful precision of a homing missile.
"Ow!" I hiss, feeling the ends of her manicured nails sink into my arm as she wrenches me off Christian like I'm some kind of plague.
"One would think you would be grateful to His Majesty for his benevolent generosity in elevating your previously non-existent status to that of a duchess," she spits with barely disguised contempt as she pulls me nose-to-nose with her.
"Get off me!" I grit, trying to shake her loose.
"Madeleine..." interjects Christian from behind me in a voice that I only heard him use once before... in the hallway at Ramsford when he realised that Drake had brought me back to Cordonia. "You overstep."
But the Countess of Fydelia seems to hear neither of us as she tightens her claw-like hold on me. "Yet instead, you repay him by not only by hijacking a royal event to serve your own shameless self-aggrandisement—"
I shake my head in disbelief. "Wait... Wh—?"
"—but then you have the unmitigated gall—"
"Madeleine," says Christian again, more forcefully this time. "That is enough."
But Madeleine is oblivious to the quiet threat suffused into the sound of her name, choosing to continue her tirade instead, "—to sneak off into the bushes with my fiancé in order to do God-knows-what when he should be—"
"I said, enough!" snaps Christian, coming suddenly between Madeleine and me with a face of thunder.
The force of his command is loud enough to cause a few heads on the edge of the lawn to turn curiously towards us.
Even Madeleine startles somewhat in response to the uncharacteristically vehement order. But not enough to let go of me.
"Can you not see what she is doing?" she demands indignantly as she turns to face Christian. "Or does she have you wrapped so tightly around her finger that you cannot even—?"
"How I choose to spend my time with the Duchess of Valtoria in private is of no concern to you, Countess," interjects Christian bluntly. "Or do I need to remind you of the conditions of our engagement?"
Madeleine's alabaster cheeks flush scarlet. "No..."
"Then I strongly suggest that you unhand Lady Harper, and ensure that this kind of juvenile outburst does not happen again."
Madeleine's eyes blaze with cold fury. But she relinquishes her hold on me, nevertheless. "My apologies, Duchess..." she snips, her voice dripping with insincerity.
I reach up to rub the spot where her nails had been on the verge of puncturing my skin.
Bitch...
Christian nods tersely in approval. "Now that that is sorted, I believe our guests are waiting. Lady Madeleine, if you'd be so kind..."
Madeleine takes his arm with a look that could've killed. "Of course, Your Majesty."
"Lady Harper," acknowledges Christian with a dip of his head as he starts to steer his seething fiancée away.
Knowing that all eyes are still on us, I drop into a quick curtesy as they walk past, on one hand grateful to Christian for shutting Madeleine down, but on the other hand wondering how badly we kicked into a nest of hornets in the process.
As it is clear that Madeleine is still raging with jealous insecurity... Perhaps even more so than she had been back at her manor when she cornered me in the bathroom. And the fact that — despite the massive diamond on her finger — I now technically outrank her is definitely not helping the situation!
So much for making allies at court…
Blowing a wayward strand of hair out of my face, I turn back towards the festivities…
…only to be greeted by a wall of judgemental eyes, and more than a few camera lenses.
"Great..." I mutter under my breath.
Whether catching me with Christian had been the genuine straw that snapped Madeleine's cool, or whether she deliberately fabricated the showdown to undermine the positive reactions I got from the press earlier, the end result is the same...
I'm going to be on the front page tomorrow. Again.
Exactly in what form, I have no idea. But I've been at court long enough now to know that the whole thing will be blown completely out of proportion, and the resulting story will generate even more press frenzy.
But if there’s one thing that Drake has taught me, it’s that I cannot allow myself to give the aristos the satisfaction of ever thinking that they’ve managed to squash me into the dirt. Because that would undermine the entire reason why I came back to court in the first place, and given how close we now are to claiming back the truth, it would be a massive and premature admission of defeat.
So, raising my chin defiantly, I make my way back across the lawn to rejoin the remainder of the Festival.
The story continues in Chapter 17 - News Flash
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Text
Staking a Claim
Series: Cordonian Royal Airlines
Fandom: The Royal Romance
Pairings for series: Various
Pairing for this chapter: Riley x Drake
Word Count: 2,340
Rating: MA
Warnings for this chapter: Language mostly
A/N: This is for the @choicesholidays Valentine's Day prompts: "Be my fake date for a wedding."
The hair color is wrong for my Riley, but this image was perfect!
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The copilot twisted around in his seat one too many times, craning his neck as if searching the cabin for something, jostling the pilot in the process.
Liam grunted in consternation. “Drake!”
Drake spun back around, “What?”
“What is your malfunction?”
“What do you mean?” Drake blinked at him in confusion.
“What do you mean what do I mean?” Liam grunted, “We haven’t made it through the preflight checklist because you keep turning around to stare into the cabin! What the hell is so interesting out there?”
“Nothing!” Drake rolled his shoulders, stared blankly out the cockpit window for a moment then turned back to Liam, “Can you see the guy in 12B?”
“What?” Liam’s head swiveled around and then back. “No. Why?”
Drake’s bottom lip protruded as he shook his head. “No reason.”
Liam watched him skeptically. Drake had been visibly agitated since he’d reported for duty. “There has to be a reason.”
“I…he just….he looks a little squirrely. You know what I mean? Untrustworthy.”
Liam’s eyes widened in alarm. “Is he a threat? Do we need to alert security? Did you see a weapon?” He whipped his head around quickly to try and get a good view of the man in 12B. “I can’t see anything. Riley’s blocking my view.”
“Is she talking to him?” Drake’s entire body moved just as Liam turned back around. Their heads collided with a resounding thwack.
“Ow! Fuck!” Liam grabbed his forehead.
“Sorry, sorry!”
“Seriously man, tell me what’s going on right now. I’m calling security!” Liam reached for the microphone but just as he got it to his mouth, Drake slapped it out of his hands.
“No!”
Liam watched in astonishment as the microphone flew out of his grip and hit the window then bounced off the dash. “Are you on drugs right now? Do I need to get another copilot?”
Drake gaped at him. “Seriously? When have I ever done drugs?”
“I don’t know man, but you’re acting really fucking weird.”
Hana ducked her head in to ask, “Are we almost ready? A couple of the passengers are getting antsy.”
“Which ones?” Drake asked.
Hana’s brows pulled together for a moment then smoothed out as she chuckled. “Oh. You know Riley’s ex is out there, don’t you?”
“What?” Drake’s eyes shot to Liam then back to Hana as he denied it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
A relieved breath whooshed out of Liam. At least he now knew Drake wasn’t on drugs and there wasn’t a terrorist on board. He stifled a laugh. “Sure you don’t.”
“I don’t!” Drake glared at them both.
Hana giggled as she backed out of the cockpit.
They finished the checklist and got airborne, but Drake’s agitation quickly returned. “Do you think he’s better looking than me?”
“Who?”
“The guy! In 12B.”
“How would I know?”
“You’re bisexual, right? You can judge that kind of thing.”
Liam scoffed. “First of all, I haven’t laid eyes on the guy. Second of all, I thought you didn’t care.”
“No, I don’t! I mean….just objectively speaking, out of curiosity….I overheard Hana call him eye candy. He can’t be that good-looking, can he?”
“I dunno Drake, Riley is a ten, so I imagine her ex is no slouch in the looks department either.”
“Great.” Drake huffed as he spun around in his seat again.
“Oh, for the love of God, just go look!”
“I can’t do that!”
“Why not?”
“Because then she’ll know I care!”
Liam cocked an eyebrow at him, “So you do care?”
“I mean she’ll think I care!”
“You’re really an idiot sometimes, you know that?”
“I don’t follow.”
“Of course you don’t.” Liam shook his head. “The only person you’re fooling is yourself. Put the rest of us out of our misery and just tell the girl that you like her already!”
“I’m not going out there.”
“Okay.”
Drake tapped his fingers on his knees for several seconds before jumping out of his seat. “I need to use the bathroom.”
“Sure you do.”
“I had a lot of coffee before we boarded.”
“Sure you did.”
“Fuck you. I’m going to take a piss.”
“Great. Tell Riley I said hi.”
Drake ignored him as he exited the cockpit and headed for the back of the plane where the restrooms were located. He slid his eyes sideways as he passed aisle 12 and scoffed to himself. The guy wasn’t that good-looking.
He was clean-shaven with a strong jawline, and raven hair swept back and gelled to perfection. Was that an Armani suit? How were his eyes that blue?
He slammed into the lavatory and locked the door to glare at himself in the highly polished silver surface of the mirror as he regarded his deep copper-colored eyes and messy, fly-away hair that barely saw a brush, much less hair gel. He ran a hand across the stubble dotting his jaw. It was a strong jawline, wasn’t it? Should he shave?
The guy in seat 12B looked like a CEO or something. Did she like that type? Drake was far more likely to be found in a tent than a boardroom. Did he even own a suit? He owned uniforms. Didn’t women like men in uniforms?
He made pretty good money as a first officer for Cordonian Royal Airlines.
Not CEO money.
“Fuck!” He spun and lashed out at the toilet. His foot connected to the stainless steel sending a sharp jolt of pain shooting up his leg.
There was a knock at the door. “Everything okay in there?”
Shit! It was Riley! “I’m fine. Dropped my…. Wallet…” Fuck, Walker! What the shit is wrong with you, man? Your wallet really?
“Are you sure because that didn’t sound like—”
“I said I’m fine!”
“Okay. Just let me know if—oh, excuse me what?”
From the other side of the door, a man’s voice murmured something he couldn’t make out then both people moved away.
Was that the ex talking to her? He forced himself to count to twenty so he didn’t just barrel out of the bathroom after them. He took several deep calming breaths like Max had tried to show him last time he had been upset about something. At least he thought it was what Max had done. At the time, he had mostly ignored him.
With an air of calm he most certainly did not feel, he exited the lavatory. His eyes went straight to seat 12B. Empty. He backtracked and ducked into the crew area.
Sure enough, there was Riley standing in the middle of the empty inflight catering kitchen talking to Mr. CEO.
All his jealousy evaporated in an instant as he took in her demeanor. Her arms were folded defensively across her chest and her face was furrowed into a frown. She was shaking her head as she leaned forward, her voice lowered but her entire body radiating her discomfort with the conversation.
The guy reached out and grabbed her arm.
She flinched away.
Oh hell no.
Drake didn’t remember moving but he was suddenly next to them, his hand wrapped firmly around the man's wrist. He flung the other man’s arm away from Riley and through gritted teeth asked, “Is there a problem here?”
The man gave him a startled look then annoyance flashed across his face. “We were just having a discussion.”
“Doesn’t look like the lady’s enjoying the conversation.”
“Mind your own business,” he shook his head dismissively and reached for her again, “Riley, if we could just talk privately—”
Drake intercepted the motion before he could touch her. “If you’re attached to that hand and wish to keep it, then I would strongly advise you against touching her again.”
He jerked his hand out of Drake’s grasp and rubbed his wrist. “Was that really necessary?”
Drake never took his eyes off the man as he leaned his body toward Riley, “Do you want to talk to this guy?”
“No.”
“But, Riley—”
“We have nothing to talk about, Nick!”
Drake angled his body so that he was blocking Riley from Nick’s view. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You heard her.”
Nick looked like he wanted to press the issue, but after taking in Drake’s stormy expression, thought better of it. He straightened his suit jacket with a sharp tug. “Fine. I’ll see you at the wedding. We’ll talk then.”
“You’re not coming to my sister’s wedding!”
“Oh, didn’t I tell you? I’ll be there as Clarissa’s plus one.”
Riley shook her head back and forth. “Seriously? When we were dating, you couldn’t stand her!”
A gloating smile crept across his face. “Jealous?”
“Why would I be jealous?”
“Because you’re not over me, Riley. If you were, you’d have bothered to line up a date for the wedding.”
“I—”
“She has a date for the wedding.” Drake cut in as he casually slung his arm around her shoulders.
Nick turned his gaze to Drake for a long, evaluating moment. “Are you the new boyfriend then?”
“Yep. And I’m only going to ask you once to return to your seat. If you don’t stop harassing the flight crew, I will land this plane and have security escort you off of it.”
Nick’s eyes widened slightly as he huffed out, “You wouldn’t dare!”
Riley ran her hand down Drake’s arm as she smirked at Nick, “He would. He’s very protective when it comes to me. I wouldn’t test him if I were you.”
“Whatever,” Nick bumped Drake’s shoulder as he shoved past them and exited the kitchen.
Drake’s arm was still around Riley as he turned his head to watch Nick leave. “Let me know if he bothers you again and I’ll—”
Riley spun on him in fury, her fists raining blows on his chest. “What the fuck did you just do, Drake?”
His hand flew to his chest. “Ow! What the hell, Riley? I just rescued you from that guy!”
“I didn’t need rescuing, Drake. I can handle Nick. He’s an asshole, but he’s not a serial killer or something!”
Drake scoffed with a shake of his head, “I think the phrase you’re looking for is thank you.”
“Oh yeah? Really?”
“Yeah, really!”
“Do you know what you just did? Do you?”
“Um…got the asshole ex-boyfriend to leave you alone?”
“No, you fucking jackass.” She slapped his arm. “You just told him that you’re my boyfriend and my date to my sister’s wedding!”
“So?”
“So?” She threw her arms up in the air. “So when I show up at the wedding with no date and no boyfriend he’ll know that was a lie and I’ll be humiliated!”
“Oh.”
“Yeah…oh!”
They stood in silence for a long moment, Drake rubbing his chest and Riley fuming. Then Drake quietly said, “I’ll go to the wedding with you.”
“What?”
“I mean….if you want me to.”
“I…”
“I did get you into this situation. Let me make it up to you by getting you out of it. One fake boyfriend slash date for sister’s wedding coming right up!”
All the fight went out of her as she took in the hopeful smile on his face. “I can’t ask you to do that, Drake.”
“Why not?”
“Because the wedding is on Valentine’s Day and I’m sure you already have plans. I can’t ask you to cancel—”
“Pfffftttt.” He waved a hand dismissively in the air. “I do not have plans for Valentine’s Day!”
“You don’t?”
Did she sound hopeful?
“No, I do not. No girlfriend, no friend with benefits, no romantic entanglements at all.”
Except with you.
A delighted smile broke out across her face. “Okay, then.”
“So, we’re good?”
She gave him a flirtatious smile as she flipped her hair and turned to leave. “We’re good.”
“Okay, good.”
He watched her walk away with a contented smile on his lips then followed her out of the kitchen and back to the front of the plane. He glowered at Nick as he passed aisle 12.
Nick returned the glare as he adjusted his headphones and slid down in the seat.
When he stepped onto the flight deck Liam greeted him with smug satisfaction. “That was the longest piss in the world.”
“Shut up.” He slid into the copilot seat without looking at his best friend.
“So how’d it go? Did you get a good look at her ex?”
“Um….yeah… he’s a pushy bastard. I had to tell him to keep his hands to himself and….”
“And?”
Drake released a long-suffering sigh knowing Liam was going to find out sooner or later. Riley would tell Max and Max would tell everyone else. “I’m going as her date to her sister’s wedding.”
“Wow! That’s quite a jump from ‘I don’t like her like that’.” Liam chortled gleefully.
Drake kept quiet but his foot started tapping nervously.
“Oh, shit, there’s more! What is it?” Liam prodded.
“Ah…”
“Don’t make me call Max and find out.”
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.
“Come on, what else?”
“It’s on Valentine’s Day,” he answered with a resigned sigh.
Liam practically danced out of his seat. “This is amazing! This is epic! Mr. I will never take a woman out on Valentine’s Day because that’s far too much pressure and it’s all about commercialization anyway is taking a woman out on Valentine’s Day. To her sister’s wedding!”
“Why does this make you so happy?”
“Because I get to say I told you so forever!”
“It’s not even a real date.”
“Sure it’s not.”
“It’s not!”
“Does she know that?”
“Yes! I just said I was her boyfriend so that Nick guy would stop—”
“Wait! Wait! You played the pretend boyfriend card to back off her ex?”
“Yeah…so?”
Liam threw his head back and belly laughed. “You are such a goner!”
Drake pressed his lips into a tight line and returned his attention to the control panel. He wanted to argue, he really did. But he couldn’t.
He was absolutely a goner.
And he was going to have to buy a suit.
Shit.
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liaromancewriter · 2 months
Text
Daddy’s Girl
Premise: A poignant moment between father and daughter after the poison attack.
Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine); feat. Robert Valentine (OC) Rating/Category: Teen. Angsty Fluff. Words: 1,510
A/N: Submission for @choicesjanuary2024 day 16 prompt "relationships". I'm also using @choicesflashfics week 69, prompt 3
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Robert Valentine had a plan. He’d graduate from college, sail around the world and then settle down to live out the Valentine legacy of working in the family business. His father also had a plan, and it featured only two of the three items on his list.
Unable to say no to the strict man who’d raised him, Robert gave up his dream of feeling the wind in his hair on the open seas. A chance encounter in Greenwich during summer break from Wharton further altered his plans.
A year later, he was married to a woman who not only shared his love of adventure but actively encouraged his carefree side. Becoming parents hadn’t been part of the plan, at least not so soon after getting married. But fate had other ideas.
As they stared down at the two tiny humans behind the glass of the nursery at Newport Hospital, he gently hooked one arm around Olivia’s waist. The boy was restless while the girl was asleep, their hands lightly touching.
“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Olivia murmured, still tired, her head resting on his shoulder.
Even though they’d known Olivia was carrying multiples, seeing them was a different reality. On top of that, the twins had arrived a month early. They still hadn’t landed on names or completed the nursery in the townhouse they’d bought near his work.
“We should come up with appropriate names,” he said quietly after a while. “Can’t keep calling them Thing One and Thing Two.”
“Imagine the shock on our parents’ faces if we put that on their birth certificates,” Olivia teased, her eyes swimming with laughter.
Robert chuckled, folding his wife in his arms. Being a father would change him; it was inevitable. But he didn’t have to give up his dreams, just adjust them for two more.
Now, all these years later, Robert watched his daughter’s even breathing as she lay sleeping on the hospital bed and wished he could turn back time to when she was a baby, tucked safe and sound in his arms.
The last two days had been harrowing and emotional. The panicked call from his son in the middle of the night, the long flight to Boston from Paris, the uncertainty about Cassie’s condition, and the anger when he and Olivia were denied entrance into the hospital.
But that was all over now, he sighed in relief. His daughter was no longer on death’s door. It would take time, but he’d been assured she would recover. If he thought Cassie wouldn’t be pissed at him for doubting her precious Dr. Ramsey, Robert would’ve whisked her off to the best specialists in the world for a second opinion.
Lost in thought, he didn’t notice Cassie’s eyelids fluttering as she slowly awoke. But he heard her whimpers and the sound of sheets rustling. He was out of the chair and by her bedside seconds before her eyes drifted open.
“Hey, kiddo,” Robert smiled softly, taking her hand.
“Daddy?” Cassie said in a confused tone, her voice reed thin and somewhat raspy.
She struggled to sit up, and he placed a steadying hand on her back while pressing a control button on the guardrail to raise the bed’s head. He adjusted the pillow to support her neck and poured a glass of water when she started coughing.
“Better?”
When she nodded, Robert set the glass down on the table. He turned away to drag the visitor’s chair closer to the bed and sat down, covering her hand with his palm. They smiled at each other, matching green eyes.
“You haven’t called me kiddo since I was ten,” she commented, smiling despite the sudden discomfort under her sternum.
The machines she was hooked up to briefly beeped before settling down as the pain subsided. Robert stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.
“Old habits,” he said, taking his eyes off the flashing numbers on the monitor. “You haven’t called me Daddy since you and Max decided that word was for babies.”
“Well, I feel weak as a baby right now, so that could be the reason,” she joked, and then tears filled her eyes, dripping down her cheeks. “I was so scared I’d never see you or Mom again. ”
Robert leaned in and wiped the tears away with his fingers, shushing her the way he used to when she was five and had a nightmare.
“When I was in that room, all I could think of was the last time you took us sailing,” she continued in a watery voice. “It was just before I moved to Boston. The fresh ocean breeze tossing my hair, the taste of salt on our lips as water crashed around us. Max cursing as the unruly waves rocked the boat and almost tipped us over. Your laughter booming in the wind. That feeling of truly being alive.”
Leaving the chair, he sat on the side of the bed and folded her into his arms, mindful of the drip lines and wires.
“You are alive, Cassie honey,” he whispered over and over as sobs wracked her body, and she burrowed her face into his chest. “You’re here, safe in my arms.”
Eventually, the storm passed, and he returned to his seat. The comforting silence stretched, broken only by the beeps and hums of the machines.
“Where’s Mom?”
“At the hotel, hopefully getting some rest,” Robert explained. “She barely slept these last couple of days. Max, too. Your brother pretends to be invincible, but he was running on fumes by the time we got here.”
“Maybe if he drank coffee every now and then,” Cassie said with a wry twist of her lips.
Robert shook his head in amusement and chuckled, well familiar with his children’s opposing views on this matter and their needling of each other as a result.
“Have you seen Ethan?”
“Yes, he dropped by an hour ago to check on you,” Robert replied, hiding his disquiet at how Cassie’s eyes locked on the closed door, waiting for the other man to walk in.
He steepled his index fingers under his chin as he sprawled on the chair, stretching his legs out under the bed. “I take it you’re both still hiding your relationship?”
Robert was glad Cassie at least had the good sense to look abashed. He wasn’t happy with the turn of events, but his wife was convinced it was the real deal and they should give the couple space to work it out. Olivia’s instincts were flawless, which was the only reason he exercised restraint.
“What do you think of him?” she asked, her eyes beseeching him to understand. “You didn’t say anything during or after the weekend in Newport. I really want you to like him, Daddy.”
“He’s certainly different from Jackson or anyone else you’ve dated before,” he said neutrally. “Older, reserved, and perhaps a little austere for my carefree daughter.”
“That’s just the side he shows everyone else,” Cassie said, her voice full of conviction. “He’s different when it’s just the two of us. Granted, our relationship is still evolving, but he cares for me, deeply.”
“I know, Cassie,” Robert said, remembering the tender look in the other man’s eyes earlier. “This isn’t up for debate. But as your father, I’m allowed to be concerned. Gossip from a workplace romance is rarely kind to the woman, especially when there’s a power imbalance.”
He held up a hand when she opened her mouth to protest. “You still have two years left in your training here. All I ask is that you be careful and protect your reputation if not your heart.”
Before Cassie could respond, there was a perfunctory knock on the door, and then it swung open. Ethan Ramsey crossed the threshold and suddenly stopped, causing the nurse accompanying him to crash into his back, the tray in her hand rattling before she steadied it.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Ethan said, his brows furrowing as if sensing he’d stepped into a quagmire. “We need to draw Dr. Valentine’s blood, check her vitals and run a few tests.”
“Yes, of course,” he said, pushing the chair back and standing up. “I’ll let you get on with it while I grab a coffee and check in on Olivia.”
Robert turned to smile down at Cassie. “Why don’t I get you something to eat?”
“Well, I am feeling a bit peckish,” Cassie mused, a teasing twinkle in her eyes. “Hospital food sucks.”
“I’ll ask the chef at the hotel to whip up your favorites.” Robert leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Be good, and no more heroics.”
He nodded at Ethan, who came to stand across from him on the other side of the bed. He noted the softness in Cassie’s eyes, the concern in Ethan’s and felt like a third wheel.
As Robert left the room, he glanced at the nurse, oblivious to their situation, and hoped Cassie heeded his advice. Ethan seemed decent enough, but if he hurt Cassie…. Well, when it came to his children, all bets were off.
---------------
All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @lucy-268 @jerzwriter @lady-calypso @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction
Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics
Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @youlookappropriate @zealouscanonindeer
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angelasscribbles · 1 month
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My Lonely Valentine (The Agreement) A One-Shot
Series: The Agreement
Fandom: The Royal Romance
Pairings: Riley x Liam, Riley x Drake
Rating: NSFW 🍋🍋🍋
Warnings for this chapter: Lemons, or should I say almost lemons? Lemon adjacent?
Word Count: 3,269
A/N: This is a prequel one-shot. Occurs before the events in the main series.
Submission for the @choicesholidays Valentine's Day prompts.
My other stuff: Master List.
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Riley walked into the informal dining room of Balymore, her estate in Valtoria, to find the table draped with a red silk cloth, flames flickering from wrought iron candelabras, and gleaming silver cloches gracing the tabletop.
Her mouth fell open and she turned to her husband in name only in astonishment. “What is all this?”
“Oh…ah…” Drake stuttered over his words as his brain spun frantically trying to find the right thing to say that would make his romantic gesture less romantic and not awkward. “I…um…I know you were disappointed that Liam had to cancel your plans for today, so I just wanted to do something to cheer you up.”
Disappointed was an understatement. It was Valentine’s Day and Liam had cancelled their plans. She shouldn’t be surprised. She should be used to it. But it hurt. A good cry and a hot bath had helped, but after a long nap, she’d found herself ravenous. Her quest for food had led her downstairs where she’d followed her nose to find the source of the delicious aroma wafting up to her.
Confusion pinged through her as she took in his demeanor. “What about your plans? Didn’t you have a date?”
“Yeah, well, that fell through.”
“Oh, Drake, I’m so sorry!” Her voice was full of so much sympathy that he felt like an ass for lying.
“It wasn’t anything serious anyway.” The truth was, he had canceled the date when he’d realized Riley would be left home alone. He had only asked the girl out so that he wouldn’t be home when Liam arrived. Not out of jealousy, but fear of discovery. He was sure his best friend could read his love for his supposedly in-name-only wife all over his face.
It was getting harder to fight his feelings for her. The more Liam fucked up and neglected her, the harder it became.
He wasn’t jealous of Liam per se. He loved the guy, and he was fully aware of the myriad web of circumstances that had led to him having to marry for political alliances and not love.
Still.
The effect it had on Riley was the same and it hurt him to watch her suffer. He had agreed to marry her to keep her at court and near Liam. A marriage of convenience. A favor for his friends. An act of service for the two people he loved most in the world.
The problem was that the longer they lived together, the closer they became and the harder he fell. He had tried to fix it, put distance between them, but his stupid, traitorous heart wouldn’t let him move on. And he had tried.
The first year they were together had been so full of turmoil that he had just focused on getting her through it. Once they had moved to Valtoria and she had settled into her new position as Duchess, she had encouraged him to find a relationship of his own.
“You shouldn’t have to suffer just because I am.”
The full truth of the situation was that he had only half-heartedly dated so that she would stop worrying about him and his happiness. Because he would do anything for her. Even date other women. But his heart had never been in it.
Every relationship he had entered had ended before it really began. Two or three dates at most. Several of the women had dumped him citing with confusion that he seemed to actually love his wife.
Everyone on the planet could see that, apparently. Everyone but her.
Because she was too busy letting Liam break her heart over and over.
“Still. I’m sorry your date canceled. I know what that feels like.”
“I’m fine.” He brushed her concern off with a twinge of guilt but telling her that he had been the one to cancel would just open up questions he wasn’t ready to answer. Or more to the point, questions he wasn’t sure she was ready to hear the answers to.
He would confess his feelings right then and there if he thought she returned them. But she was in love with Liam. He knew that.
“Stop worrying about my love life and come eat before it gets cold.”
She inhaled deeply as she stepped toward the table, “It smells so good! What is it?”
“Deep fried chicken and cheese stuffed avocado.” He told her as he pulled her chair out for her.
Her face lit up as she sat. “Really?”
“Yes,” he affirmed as he took his own seat. “I know it’s your favorite.”
“But…how? I gave the kitchen staff the night off!” Neither of them had planned to be home.
“Oh, ah…” a flush spread across his face as he rubbed the back of his neck, “I made it.”
She pulled the cloche off the plate then turned her head to him in bewilderment, “You made this?”
He scoffed while shaking his head. “Don’t act so surprised. I can cook. You know this.”
“I mean yes but this is next level!” The avocados were browned to perfection and served with a beautifully roasted Mediterranean vegetable medley, garlic mashed potatoes, and piping hot Ciabatta bread.
He tried to lighten the mood. “I’m offended that you’re this impressed, Riley. I have mad kitchen skills.”
“I know. I just can’t believe that you did all this for me.” A single tear slid down her cheek.
He leaned forward in concern, wiping the tear away. “Hey, hey, hey! What’s that about?”
“Nothing,” she smiled at him through the wetness pooling in her eyes. “These are happy tears. I didn’t think this day could be salvaged, but you somehow managed it.”
“Yeah, well, what are husbands for?” He gave her a disarming smile as he sat back in his chair and turned his attention to his plate.
She laughed at their shared joke. He always said that when he did something nice for her. It was funny because he wasn’t really her husband.
But he kind of was, wasn’t he?
She dropped her eyes to her plate to cover her sudden flush. He was always doing sweet things like this. He was always there when she needed someone to talk to. Though she would never tell Max or Hana, Drake had become her best friend.
He had left his job as a member of the King’s Guard to move to Valtoria with her. He had been there for her when her grandmother passed away. The last time Liam had stood her up, Drake was ready with her favorite pizza and a movie she’d been wanting to see.
What are husbands for?
It was beginning to feel less and less like a joke because it had become the truth.
How true?
She suspected Drake’s feelings for her. How could she not? She had pushed him to date others. It wasn’t fair to let him waste his life taking care of her when she was in love with another man.
Yet here he was, on Valentine’s Day, taking care of her once again.
She stole a surreptitious glance at him as they ate. Maybe he had deeper feelings for her than she initially suspected.
No, she was imagining things. He was just being a good friend. Because that is what he was. Her friend. And Liam’s.
Liam.
Guilt swirled through her at the thought of her supposed boyfriend. Annoyance followed the guilt. He had stood her up. Again. Why should she feel guilty for anything? He married another woman for the love of God.
Not because he wanted to.
The guilt was back at the reminder of the impossible situation Liam had been placed in, but it was mingled with hurt, embarrassment, and a fair amount of anger.
She knew everyone thought she was an idiot for waiting around on scraps of the king’s time and affection. For uprooting her entire life to chase after him to Cordonia in the first place, for staying even after his rejection, and for continuing to believe that she was a priority to him.
Everyone but Drake.
He never judged her.
She lifted her eyes to his face as he regaled her with tales of Max’s misadventures from when he had tagged along on Drake’s latest fishing trip with Bastien.
“… And then he tripped over the side of the boat and fell in the water!” Drake shook with laughter at the memory.
Riley forced an obligatory smile, but she had missed most of the story, her mind occupied with an entirely new idea.
Her eyes focused on his mouth hoping he didn’t notice the flush on her face as her mind refused to stray away from imagining what his lips would feel like on her neck, on her mouth…other places….
She forced her eyes down to her plate and focused on eating her dinner. The dinner that her husband in allegedly name only had taken the time to prepare with his own two hands.
When the meal was over, she tried to clear the table, but he wouldn’t let her. “No, no, I’ve got this! I’m just going to clear the table and rinse the plates real quick. Why don’t you go pick something to watch? Whatever you want.”
“You sure? You did all this work. The least I can do is let you pick the movie.”
“Nah.” He waved her offer away. “As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”
A multitude of emotions swirled through her as she watched him walk out of the room with the dishes. If you’re happy, I’m happy. He meant that. He was always saying things like that. He was always going out of his way to do little things to make her happy.
She made her way to the media room and flipped absently through the streaming selections as a million images of Drake fell through her mind. Drake, making her laugh when she was sad. Drake, holding her when she cried. Drake, always keeping himself between her and the reporters. Drake, scrambling eggs in their kitchen at two a.m. because they’d stayed up late watching stand-up comedy specials again.
When had he become such a huge part of her life? Yes, she had married him, but that had been on paper only, so she could stay near Liam.
And yet it was Drake who had attended her grandmother’s funeral with her. It was Drake who had taken care of her when she had the flu last year. And it was always Drake who picked up the pieces after Liam shattered her heart time and time again.
Why was she keeping him at arm’s length?
He showed up in the media room with her favorite blanket, a steaming cup of hot chocolate, and a small box tucked under his arms.
She accepted the cup and the blanket while trying to peer at the box. “What’s that?”
“Oh, this?” He teased, holding it out toward her but up out of her reach.
Her eyes widened as she glimpsed the label. “Are those dark chocolate truffles?”
“Maybe…”
“Drake!” She laughed as she deposited her cup on the end table and made a grab for the promised treat.
He lifted them easily out of her reach with a teasing smile. “What? Did you want these?”
“You know I do!” She tried to pout but the smile tugging her lips upward made that difficult to maintain.
“I don’t know….” He pretended to think deeply about it. “Maybe I should keep these for myself.”
With a joyful laugh, she launched herself off the couch, her fingers touching, but not completely grasping the elusive chocolates. The impact of her body colliding into his, combined with his misstep as he tried to dodge her, sent him toppling backward onto the couch where he landed in a slightly reclined position. Her momentum carried her forward so that she landed on top of him, laying on his chest, looking up into his face.
They were both laughing as their gazes met. A sudden silence descended on them as they stared into each other’s eyes. The smiles faded as lips parted and breath caught.
She moved first, bringing her lips to his. Her kiss was tentative. His response was not.
His arms went around her, the box of truffles dropped and forgotten on the floor. He pulled her tight against him as his tongue deftly took control of her mouth. One hand tangled in her hair as the other slipped under her shirt to caress the smooth skin of her back. A plaintive whimper escaped him as he pressed his rapidly growing hardness up into her.
Riley responded, melting into his embrace, no longer tentative. She pressed herself against him as their kisses became more passionate, almost frantic.
She broke the kiss to gasp for air. “Drake…should we—"
Drake froze for a moment, and then jolted upright, gently moving her off him. “Shit, Riley!” He raked a hand through his hair as he pushed himself back away from her. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry!”
“What are you sorry for? I kissed you!”
“It was just the heat of the moment.”
“Is that all it was?” She asked him softly.
“Yeah…” He responded unconvincingly.
“Are you sure it wasn’t more than that?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know…” her fingers twisted the hem of her shirt nervously. “You made this whole romantic dinner…”
“I wanted to cheer you up. Because we’re friends and—"
“You went out of your way to get me my favorite candy.”
“No, I didn’t. I just….” He closed his eyes with a shuddering sigh before pushing through with the lie. “I was already in the store, and I saw it…”
“You’re a bad liar.”
His eyes flew open, and he fixed her a look that was almost pleading. “What do you want from me, Riley?”
“I think the question is, what do you want from me, Drake?” She scooted closer to him taking in the way he watched her warily. Like a rabbit watching a coyote approach, his face full of fear, longing, and a guarded passion.
He swallowed thickly and tried for a normal tone of voice. “The movie…”
Her hand slid up his thigh to the bulge in his pants. “A movie? Is that really what you want right now?”
“Fuck…” he breathed out in defeat as a shudder ran through his body. He grabbed her wrist to stop her but instead of pushing her away as he had intended, he found himself pulling her into him as he leaned forward, and then they were kissing again.
Lips and hands explored bodies and pulled at clothing. His heart thundered in his chest as a small part of his mind screamed at him to stop, to put the brakes on this.
That part was overruled as she pulled her top off and dropped it on the floor next to them. He stopped breathing for a moment as he drank in her naked form. He yanked his own shirt off and dove back in.
Riley arched her back as she gave herself over to the sensations cascading through her body. Drake’s hands on her bare skin were calloused, rough. The friction was a sharp contrast to the smoothness of her bare flesh. It felt good, forbidden, delicious. She shivered as goosebumps erupted along her spine.
His hot lips on her throat sent ribbons of white-hot desire shooting through her and coiling in her center.
She cried out in protest when he withdrew that touch. “Why are you stopping?”
“I…we shouldn’t…”
“Don’t you want me?”
A self-deprecating laugh slipped out of him. “I want you so fucking bad….you have no idea….. but not like this.”
“Like what?”
“You’re upset…vulnerable...”
“I was upset.” She drew his hand back to her body; he didn’t resist as she placed it so it was cupping a pert breast. “That’s not what I’m feeling right now.”
He was struggling mightily to keep his voice even as he gasped for breath. “…don’t want you to regret…”
“I won’t…”
“You’re in love with Liam…”
“I am…” She dropped her hand and pulled back a little. “We can stop if you want.”
“If I want?” His gaze searched hers, unsure exactly what he was looking for.
“Yes, you. I don’t want to stop.”
“But Liam—”
“I don’t want to think about Liam right now, Drake. I don’t want to think about tomorrow or what any of this means. But…” She moved away from him reluctantly. “I understand if you do.”
He instantly regretted the distance between them.
Before he could decide how to proceed, there was a knock at the door.
Drake’s eyes closed as frustration, relief and a smidge of anger pinged through him.
There was only one person it could be this late.
Talk about timing.
He quickly pulled his shirt back on and tossed her blouse to her. “I’ll go answer the door. You might want to fix your hair, it’s a little mussed.”
“Drake—”
“No, it’s okay,” he told her as he pulled her to him and dropped a quick kiss on the top of her head before pushing her gently away. “Go make yourself presentable. I’ll show Liam in.”
“Right.” She redressed and hurried over to the closest mirror to smooth her hair back into place.
Drake combed his fingers through his own hair on his way to the front door. Pulling it open, he greeted his best friend with, “Thought you couldn’t get away, Your Majesty?”
“Some last-minute things came up, but I finally managed to slip away.”
“It’s a little late. Valentine’s Day is pretty much over.”
Liam glanced at his watch as he stepped through the doorway. “Not really. Where is she? And why are you home? I thought you had a date.”
Drake shrugged. “She canceled on me. Sick pet or something.” He was only a little horrified at how easily the lie rolled off his tongue. “Riley’s in the media room. We were just about to watch a movie.”
Liam started down the hall. Looking over his shoulder, he asked, “Are you coming?”
“No. I’m going to turn in early. You two have fun.”
He needed a shower. A cold one.
He sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He slammed his bedroom door behind him and then leaned back against it, gently banging his head into it several times before muttering to himself, “The fuck did I just do? Stupid, stupid, stupid!”
He shed his clothes as he walked across to the room and into the ensuite. He needed relief.
The water pounded down on him as he wrapped his hand around himself. His head tipped back and his eyes fell closed as he remembered her half-naked form in front of him, the feel of her skin under his fingers, the taste of her lips…..
He groaned out loud as streams of milky whiteness pulsed out of him and splashed onto the tile. He placed both hands on the wall and leaned forward, letting the water run over the back of his head as he watched the detritus of his desire swirl down the drain.
It wasn’t the first time that his ardor for her had landed him in this position, but he knew it was different this time.
They had crossed a line tonight. A line that couldn’t be uncrossed. Even though they hadn’t done the deed, the genie was out of the bottle-- his feelings for her, their obvious sexual attraction to each other, all of it.
He just had no idea what to do about any of it.
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jerzwriter · 2 months
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A Different Fate - Final Chapter
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OMG, it took me entirely too long to complete this, but I'm so happy now that it's done! I am so, so grateful to the anonymous (to you, not to me 😉) donor to the Write for Gaza project, who requested I finish this by the end of January. Well - I did it! And thank you so, so much - I can't tell you how much it means!
A Different Fate - Series Masterlist
Book: Open Heart (Post Series)
Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (past)
Featuring: Tobias Carrick, Sienna Trinh
Rating: Teen
Words: 3,700
Category: Short-Series/AU/Lost Love
Summary: Ethan's first attempt to talk to Casey didn't work out, but now, with Tobias & Sienna's help, will it finally work out? Or will they have to resign and accept their fate?
A/N: When I started this, it was supposed to be a one-off, and now, I'm finally done after 5 parts! It's funny how these things take on a life of their own. I know a few of you have been very anxious for this to post, and I thank you for your extraordinary patience. I hope you find it's worth it in the end! @choicesjanuary2024 Day 23 - Hope Ethan x Kaycee Masterlist | My Full Masterlist
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The bus jolted forward the moment the light turned green, jostling its passengers around like dolls—every passenger except for Sienna Trinh. Growing increasingly impatient with her “charge,” she sat firmly in place, arms crossed defiantly before her chest.  
“This is a stupid idea!” She said, slapping a startled Ethan’s arm across the bus aisle.
“Oww!”
“Don’t oww, me!” She fired back. “You blew my advice off yesterday, and look how well that went. Maybe you should listen to me now.”
“I know,” Ethan droned. “But this is different.”
“Si, I have to agree with Ethan on this one,” Tobias said, his face twisting as he realized his words. “Shit! It hurt more than I expected to say that.”
“Thanks, pal.”
“Don’t mention it,” Tobias smirked. “Si, he can’t do this right now. He’d have to ambush her at work, and you see how well that went. We have a plan in place; it will be fine.”
“Normally, I’d agree with you, but I’m done tempting fate with these two. Something always goes wrong.”  
“Look, the bonehead has put it off eight years. It can wait another eight hours to ensure it’s done right.”
“You know,” Ethan interrupted, “it might be helpful if the two of you wouldn’t talk about me like I wasn’t here.”
Sienna turned to him, brow raised. “It would be great if you didn’t need the two of us here to make sure you don’t blow it!”
“She makes a point,” Tobias nodded, pleased with Ethan’s exasperation.
“Can we stick to the point?”
“The point is, you’ll speak to Kaycee tonight.”
“Yeah, after your date,” Ethan chuckled ruefully. “
“It’s not a date!” Tobias spat. “You know damn well I’m just going to the party with her to get that asshole Douglas off her back.”  
Ethan shot a half-doubtful look.
“Really?” Tobias said incredulously. “I’ve been rooting for you two since she left Boston, and this is how you treat me? Trust me, Ramsey, all Kaycee wants is you, and the last thing I’d ever want is to have you as a metamour.”
Sienna’s nose scrunched. “A meta-what?”
Tobias waved her off with a chuckle. “Trust me, Si, you’re better off not knowing. Now, stop worrying. I’ll take Kaycee to the party, give the creepy doctor a few death stares, and after a drink or two, I’ll mention you’re in town, play wingman, then you swoop in for the grand finale. We’ve got it under control.”
“Yeah,” Sienna rolled her eyes. “With you two at the wheel, what could possibly go wrong?”
~~~~~
“I’m coming!” Kaycee clumsily rushed across her apartment to answer the door, slipping into her silver heels along the way. She opened the door breathless but stunning nevertheless. “Hey,” she smiled.
A grin spread across Tobias’s face; he had forgotten how well Dr. MacClennan cleaned up. With her long blonde curls cascading over her shoulder, barely skimming the bodice of her strapless ice-blue gown, she looked more like someone who spent her day posing for Vogue than saving lives in scrubs.
“What do you think?” she grinned.
“What do I think? If this is how you look for a fake date, what the hell do you do on real ones? How many heart attacks have you been responsible for, MacClennan?” 
“Shit!” She said with a stomp of her foot. “I screwed up! I shouldn’t have brought you tonight!”
“Oh, why?”
“I should have invited Dr. Douglas himself! If I knew cardiac arrest would be the result, well, that would be one way to be rid of him.”
Tobias burst out laughing. “I forgot just how wicked you could be.”
Slipping an earring in, she winked. “I’d feel guilty about it ten minutes later. Not guilty enough to start CPR, but guilty all the same."
"Well, I'm happy to provide a less lethal way of getting rid of Dr. Jackass.”
She grabbed her clutch off the side table and looked at Tobias, casually leaning against the door.   She swore he hadn’t aged a day, still wearing that signature confident swagger as well as he wore his dark, tailor-made suit. She crossed her arms and shook her head disapprovingly.
“What?” He asked, checking his attire to see if something was wrong. “Do I not clean up as well as you?”
“Too well. If word gets out that I’m dating you, no one will ask me out again. They’d be afraid of the competition.”
He chuckled softly, visions of Ethan in his mind. “Well, let’s hope it won’t come to that.”
Stepping to Kaycee’s side, he offered his arm. “Shall we?”
“Let’s go!”
~~~~~
The party was exactly what one would expect to cap off the career of a renowned doctor from one of the top hospitals in the world. The rooftop ballroom’s floor-to-ceiling windows provided a panoramic view of the City’s famed skyline; fairy lights scattered throughout the room illuminated it with an ethereal glow. Warm notes from the piano wafted through the air, competing with the gentle hum of convivial chatter as tuxedoed waiters distributed flutes of  Dom Perignon. Tobias and Kaycee were on a mission and played the part of an enamored new couple so well that they earned envious stares, not only from Dr. Douglas but from several others as well. But as much fun as that was, Tobias couldn’t get his mind off his primary goal of the night: getting Ethan and Kaycee together. He looked at his watch. She only wanted to stay two hours, and they were about to hit that mark.
“Hey,” he whispered, “Wanna take a spin around the dancefloor before we blow this joint? Make this look legit?”
Wordlessly placing her empty champagne flute on a passing waiter's tray, she took Tobias’s hand and led him to the dancefloor. Ironically, finding the most privacy they’d had all night. 
“Dancing was a good idea,” she said. “Everyone knows I wouldn’t leave a party without dancing... and it’s not like you’re a stick in the mud that would refuse me.”
“Kacyee, it would be difficult for anyone to refuse you.”
“Yeah,” she smiled sadly, “You’d be surprised.”
“I don’t know about that. For Christ's sake, you used to get Ramsey to dance back in the day. I thought only an act of God could accomplish that!”
Kaycee’s body tensed, and her feet seemed to forget what they were supposed to do. As she stood still on the dance floor, Tobias looked her in the eye.
“I’m sorry, did I overstep?”
Kaycee shook her head and continued to dance. “It’s been so nice seeing you, but it takes me back, and sometimes, that can be hard, you know?”
“Yeah, I do. It takes me back, too, but is that such a bad thing? We had some good times.”
“Ha! It all depends,” she chuckled. “Do you have a time machine? Because I’d be happy to go back, but only if I could write a different fate.”   
“I can’t do that,” he sighed. “Not the time machine part, but... maybe I can help with the different fate.”
Her brow furrowed. “What?”
“Come on,” he said, taking her hand. “Follow me.”
Kaycee remained silent as they ran down the plushly carpeted hall. But, when they found an empty banquet room, she wanted answers.
“OK, we’re alone now. What’s going on?”
“I want to talk to you about Ethan.”
Kaycee shook her head, throwing her hands in the air in frustration.   
“We did that. We had that conversation at dinner the other night. We don’t need to do it again.”
“Did we have that conversation? Because as far as I remember, I didn’t tell you that he was here.”
“He’s what? He’s here... like in New York?”
“I’ll do one better,” he smiled. “He’s sitting at the bar in the lobby.”
Her eyes narrowed, and Tobias wasn’t sure if he saw shock or anger flickering in them.
“You told me he was in Boston. You said he refused to come with you!”
“He was. Or at least I thought he was. But when I got to my hotel that night, he was there.”
She crossed her arms smugly. “So he came to attend the conference. Right?”
“Nope. He didn’t come for the conference. He came here for you.”
“For me?” Her voice cracked. “He came here for me. Yet he’s been in town for two days and hasn’t reached out to me once.”
“Well... about that. He did. He stopped by Langone yesterday and sort of heard you tell Dr. Douglass that you had a thing... for me.”
Kaycee felt her stomach drop. “No!”
“Yes.”
“No, no, no, no! He doesn’t really think I want you, does he?”
“Hey, don’t act so disgusted!” Tobias said defensively. “Believe it or not, most people would kill to get with this... but Ethan knows you’re not one of them. I can’t give you a time machine, but you can give yourself a second chance.”
She remained silent, her heart beating faster as she stared out the window into the night.
“Tobias, it’s taken me eight years to say his name without crying. To recall our time together and feel whistful, not just sad. I’m content with my life here, and if I open that door and it slams shut once again... I don’t know that I could take it.”
“Kaycee, you’re right. Eight years have passed, and a lot has changed. Like you – you’re not a young, wide-eyed resident anymore. You have a brilliant career that can only be attributed to one thing – and that’s you. No one could dare say you made it because you were involved with him. You love each other. Why keep denying it.”
“He loves me?” She asked. “He used those exact words.”
“Well, he didn’t actually say the words, but... why would he say them to me? Why don’t you give him a chance... to say them to you?”  
“But Tobias,” she said with a quiver in her voice. “What if... what if it doesn’t work?”
“But Kaycee... what if it does?”
~~~~~
Boston and Philadelphia had skyscrapers for sure, but neither city could hold a candle to New York, and right now, Kaycee couldn't be more grateful to the town she now called home. Sixty-eight floors, she thought, taking a tentative step into the elevator. Sixty-eight floors stood between her and the lobby, and she hoped they’d stop at each one.
Standing in the back corner, she relied on the walls to keep her upright as passengers piled in. She needed time. Time to think, to decide what she’d say, to breathe.... sixty-eight floors should have given her the time she needed to center and gain a semblance of composure. But it went by in an instant, and when the elevator doors began sliding over, all she could do was watch in horror.
Her head was spinning, and her mind was lost in a cloud of confusion. Ethan was waiting in the lobby... for her? It couldn’t be real. Tourists and locals alike chatted happily about their evening plans as they stepped out, a direct contrast to Kacyee, who stood frozen in fear. Only the elevator operator’s gruff voice brought her back to reality.
“Ma’am, are you getting out?”
She turned to him, then back to the door, and considered returning to the grand ballroom. But something inside her stirred. Tobias was right; she was no longer playing the part of the ingenue, filled with hope and naivete that were somehow both her greatest strength and weakness. No, she was a big girl now, and whatever happened when she walked through that door... she’d be able to handle it.  
“Ma’am," the man repeated with increased irritation. “Shall I close the doors?"
“Uhm. No," she said, standing upright and dusting off the front of her gown. “No. I’m getting off here.”
The world seemed to move in slow motion as she stepped into the lobby. If this were a movie, Ethan would be waiting across a crowded room, their eyes would meet in an instant, and the credits would roll as soon as they shared a perfect kiss, one that left no doubt that they were destined for happily ever after. But real life seldom ran so smoothly, as Kaycee was about to confirm. She looked all around, to the left and the right, but no sign of him. She walked the perimeter of the room, even just outside, and still... nothing. Tobias said Ethan would be at the bar, so she returned and hopped on a stool to wait and wait. She was patient at first, but five minutes passed, then ten. Her fingers began to rap against the rich mahogany countertop when it reached fifteen, and by twenty? By twenty, she had enough.
Standing up with a weary sigh, she chastised herself for opening that door even a crack. You should have learned by now, she thought as she headed toward the exit. She was almost outside when she saw Tobias coming off the elevator. She turned on her high heel and headed his way. Why lambast herself if she could lambast him? He didn’t see her coming and reacted with surprise when he felt the shove on his shoulder.
 “He’s here, huh? He’s waiting for me at the bar? Well, guess what? He didn’t show!”
“Kaycee,” Tobia started, but she wouldn’t allow him to speak.
“No! Don’t Kaycee me! This is precisely l why I didn’t want to get my hopes up! This is how it always ends with us... either he walks away, or he doesn’t show... and I swore I wouldn’t put myself in this position again!”
“Kayce, if you’d just let me....”
“NO! No, I don’t want to hear what you have to say because all that matters is that he’s not here! He’s not here, and....”
Her breath hitched when she felt a tap on her shoulder.
“Is that....” she whispered.
“You know,” Tobias smirked. “You might want to turn around.”
She turned around slowly, and just like that, life was imitating art. A feeling of warmth surrounded her the moment their eyes met. He may have aged a little, but she’d know him... she’d know those eyes... anywhere.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, handing her a single red rose. “I stepped out to buy this from a street vendor. I thought it would be a nice touch.”
With her heart racing, she lifted the flower to her nose and inhaled its fragrant scent.
“And that took twenty minutes?” she grinned, putting Ethan at ease.
“Well, I also needed to go to the men's room. It took more than one glass of Scotch to get up the nerve to offer you an apology that could make up for eight years.”
“Ethan,” she whispered, at a loss for words.
“Well, this is the shittiest rose ceremony I’ve ever seen, and I’ve had to suffer through many an episode of The Bachelor,” Tobias observed. He pat Ethan on the back. “Nice touch, a little cheesy, but not bad for you.”
“You can go now,” Ethan grumbled.
“I was planning on it,” Tobias nodded at Kaycee, then looked Ethan in the eye. “You two can take it from here. Don’t fuck this up.”
“Can we?” Kaycee asked once Tobias was gone. “Can we take it from here, or will one of us mess it up somehow?”
“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” he smiled. “Why don’t we go someplace and talk.”
~~~~~
She couldn’t remember leaving the hotel lobby or how they decided where they would walk. All she knew was they ended up strolling along Central Park West, a comfortable distance between them, as she chattered aimlessly about nothing at all. Anything to avoid an awkward silence or, worse yet, an awkward conversation. While Kaycee faced straight ahead, Ethan couldn’t keep his eyes off her. She was as beautiful as he remembered, perhaps even more so. He was afraid if he took his eyes away, she’d disappear, and he wouldn’t allow that. Then, even in the dim streetlights, he saw her starting to shiver, and without missing a beat, he removed his jacket and placed it over her shoulders, bringing her to a stop.
“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a half step back. “You looked cold.”
“Yes,” she smiled nervously. “It is... it is getting cold.” She motioned to a food truck on the edge of the street and smiled. “I’d suggest we get coffee to warm up, but I know that wouldn’t meet your standards.”
“Is that what you want?” He asked. “Go. Go sit on that bench, and I’ll get us some.”
“You’re going to drink coffee... from a food truck?”
Ethan shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips. “I have to start living a little sometime. Tonight sounds like the perfect time to start.”
He walked away, and Kaycee hollered after him. “Wait, you didn’t ask how I wanted my coffee."
He turned around with his hands in his pockets and utter confidence. “At this hour? Decaff. Definitely, decaff with a splash of milk, preferably almond, but if they don’t have that, plain milk will do. And Splenda, two Splenda... even though you know they’re not good for you.”
A slow smile spread across Kaycee’s lips. “You... remember.”
“Yes,” he nodded. “I remember everything.”
“Well, I take three Splenda now,” she winked, and he felt his heart flutter.
“Go sit,” he smiled, and she all but skipped away.
She watched his silhouette in the ethereal light, still attempting to convince herself this was real. But she had to believe it was true when she felt the steaming hot cup in her hand. She watched with anticipation as Ethan took a sip from his cup and couldn’t help but laugh when he tried to contain a grimace.  
“Oh, it’s funny,” he smiled. “Do you enjoy watching me suffer?”
“No,” she whispered, gently taking his hand and placing her coffee on the bench beside her. “No, I think we’ve both suffered plenty, and I don’t want either of us to suffer anymore.”  
The touch of her hand impacted him more than he could have imagined, and he found himself unable to speak. He turned to her with tears in his eyes, just managing to mutter her name before pulling her into a tight embrace. Kaycee buried her face in his shoulder, taking in the warm, familiar scent she used to know so well. One of Ethan’s hands was entangled in her curls, while his other arm pulled her as close as he possibly could. They stayed there a long while, silent and amazed at the reality – both had assumed if this day were ever to come, it would be filled with fireworks. An explosion of passion that couldn’t be felt miles away. But the reality was different. It was warm, safe, comforting, a loving embrace each had desired for so long – it wasn’t fireworks, it was coming home.  
“I can’t believe you’re here,” her voice cracked. “I can’t believe you’re in my arms.”
“I’m trying to believe it myself,” he said, pulling back to gaze into her crystal blue eyes. His hand cupped her chin, his thumb tenderly stroking her cheek. “You’re so beautiful. What kind of fool am I depriving myself of seeing this face for so long?”
Kayce reached up to take his hand, gently placing a kiss on it. “Then, shall we try to rectify that now?”
“We could. If that’s what you want.”
Kaycee sat back with a smile so gentle and warm Ethan didn’t need words to know her answer. She reached up and messed up his hair. “How did we screw us up so badly? I mean, I can blame it on being young and stupid, but you didn’t have that luxury.”
Laughing, he took her hand. “You may have been young, but you were never stupid. You knew so much more than me. I know there’s no fairy godmother that will show up with a magic wand, and I know we will still have things to work out. But the thing I know most of all is that I love you. I love you with all my heart, and I’ve wasted too many years without you by my side. I’m determined to put an end to that as soon as I can.”
“You love me,” she sighed. “Well, that’s good... because I love you. I love you so much.”
Ethan reached over and embraced her, letting out a joyful groan as he lifted them to their feet. She held on tight as he spun her around, stopping to gently put her back down. They stood face-to-face, a world of memories crossing their minds as they gazed into each other’s eyes. Time and distance had done nothing to them; their love remained the same. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, lighting a flame that had flickered but never extinguished. It was more than a kiss. It was a promise, a silent vow that was a testament to their love, which had never, ever died.
“We can’t screw this up, Ethan,” she said as they broke away. “If we’re going to do this, I want this to be forever. I can’t lose you again.”
“Good!” He grinned brighter than she had ever seen. “Because I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Ethan offered his arm, which she gladly accepted, nuzzling her head into his shoulder as they started to walk.
“So, where are we going?” She asked.
“Well, I do have a hotel room nearby.”
Kaycee playfully nudged him. “A hotel room? Mister, I have a whole apartment, and it’s quite nice! You know, your girl did all right for herself!”
“Oh, I’ve kept tabs on you. I know you did.”
“Then let’s go!”
As they walked to her apartment, they passed the café Kaycee had dined in not too long ago, and she told Ethan the story of that night. How two estranged lovers had come together, and he professed his undying love. She relayed how she was trying to listen in on their conversation, but in the end, she didn’t need to since the young man yelled it out for all to hear. The crowd applauded, and she secretly paid their bill. It was straight out of a movie.
“I’m glad you got to see that,” Ethan smiled. “You always loved a happy ending.”
“Mmm-hmm,” she agreed. “And now, I’ve got one of my own.”
(Yep that last part was from Part 1. 😊)
Thanks so much for reading!
@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics
Tagging others separately.
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kristinamae093 · 6 months
Text
Ghosted
Ghosted - Two Steps Back (Chapter Ten)
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Series Summary - Prince Liam fell for Riley Brooks hard and fast. A marriage filled with love and devotion was within his reach. But everything changed when she vanished just before the end of the social season. As everyone voices their concerns regarding her scandalous departure, a confession from an unlikely source turns Liam's world upside down and makes him question everything around him.
Book/Pairing - TRR - Liam x MC (Riley Brooks)
A/N 1 - This AU starts right before the beginning of the engagement tour. There is a two-month lapse between the coronation and where we pick up, but we will stray from canon. Please excuse any errors found.
Characters belong to Pixelberry.
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After the Regatta
Penelope hobbled to her room on a sore foot and a painfully bruised ego. This wasn’t going as expected; advisors told her toward the beginning of the season she might stand a chance, but after only the first few events, they hastily changed their tone. Between Madeleine, Riley, and Olivia, they knew Penelope would not be the new king’s choice.  
Regardless, Penelope was enjoying her time away. The friends she’d made were irreplaceable; she and Kiara formed an everlasting bond. Even Riley was incredibly friendly, despite her commoner status. Penelope was rooting for Riley to win it all because she was genuinely a nice person, and Penelope was looking forward to what Cordonia could look like with her as queen. 
Penelope approached her door whilst humming to herself. The day was long, and she was relieved to be in the comfortable solace of her own space. She planned on calling her parents for their daily video chat, and to get some doggy face time to tide her over while away. Her anxiety was through the roof without having them close, but the friendships she’d made were a momentary distraction. She was glad the ladies were nice enough; otherwise, this experience would’ve been a nightmare. 
Penelope entered and made a bee-line for the bathroom. She did her business, washed her hands, and bounced her way over to the dresser to get more comfortable for the evening. Just as she opened the drawer, a stern knock sounded on her door. Penelope scrunched her face; she was expecting no visitors but thought perhaps Kiara wanted to hang out. 
As Penelope opened the structure, a thunderous force shoved through her and entered, slamming the door shut. Penelope stumbled backward but caught her footing. She could only stare at the person in front of her as panic flourished through her body. She didn't recognize them, but the death glare plastered on their face told her that notion was not applied on both ends. Her instinct told her to scream for help, but the visitor addressed her before she was given the chance.
They spoke in a low, raspy voice. “Have a seat, Lady Penelope. We have a lot to discuss.” 
“W–who are you?” 
“You need not worry about who I am, only what I know.” 
“What do you mean?” 
The person clasped their hands behind their back and stalked around Penelope; like a vulture circles its prey. “Everyone around you thinks you're the sweet, poodle-obsessed Penny, but I see otherwise. I know all about you… The things you’ve done… What your daddy tries his damndest to hide…” 
Penelope’s already increasing heart rate spiked. “I don’t understand.” 
“Of course you don’t. It’s alright, I wouldn’t want anyone to know, either.” They dismissively shrugged.
“Know what?” 
The person snickered at her attempts to deflect, but they could see the panic rising in her eyes. “It’s quite a common expression — young and dumb. But, when you’re in the nobility, there are no secrets unless you know the right people.” 
Penelope thickly swallowed. “I don’t – I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 
“Really? So, then you’ve never been — joined in holy matrimony, right?”
Penelope’s eyes widened. “I–” 
“Enough with your attempts to feign confusion; that will only prolong this process and I am not in the mood to play games. I know of your estranged marriage; how your father pays plenty of hush money per month to keep his mouth shut. I imagine it would be fairly difficult to talk yourself out of that situation if the press were to catch wind; considering Portavira continuously requests the Crown’s compensation. And I do believe the monarch would not be happy to learn your family has developed a slush fund, either.” 
The intruder gave Penelope a wicked smile and added, “Not to mention the — fatality that was caught amid your poor life choices…”
Penelope visibly tensed. “That’s not – I didn’t–” she stammered before snapping her mouth closed; her flustered state prohibited her from forming an argument.
“It’s a matter of opinion, I suppose. Regardless, I attained the records from your procedure.” They waved a piece of paper in Penelope’s face, and recognition swept over her instantly. She released a shuddered breath as the document came to a stop, her tearful eyes centering on the text. 
Despite Penelope’s panicked state, the aggressor continued, “Tell me, do your parents know of your aborted fetus? I mean, I saw you on security cameras entering the clinic alone. It was smart of you to use a fake name, but unfortunately, that was not enough to cover up your mistakes.” 
Penelope never answered, but the assailant watched her swallow thickly with shame etched in her features. She couldn’t fathom how this stranger had found her deepest secrets that she was certain would never see the light of day. 
Penelope found out she was pregnant the day after her annulment was discreetly settled. Terrified wasn’t a strong enough word to describe how she felt, as she stared down at the positive test; she went to the clinic in disguise to find out about her options and decided abortion would be the best solution. Being only nineteen years old, Penelope was practically a child herself and didn’t believe she was at a point to care for a baby like they deserved. And she was alone; when she dreamt of this moment, it happened completely differently in her head. She longed for the fairytale love, where they would start a family together; not single and inevitably disgraced.
Her parents didn’t know, she was too afraid to tell them — especially after her father agreed to pay a continuous hefty fee for Guy’s silence. Penelope was always well-behaved; the perfect trophy daughter. The look of pure disappointment held in their eyes when they found out about her marriage haunted her; she never wanted to do anything out of line again. All Penelope desired was to move on from her mistake, but life had other plans.
Panicked and ashamed, Penelope made the impossible decision alone, not wanting anyone to know of the stupid decisions that led her there. Her fear and guilt only increased after the procedure, but she grieved what could have been and pushed it into the deepest pit of her mind.
She never told a soul – nobody knew – or so she thought.
“All it would take is a small whisper to the press and it would destroy not only you, but your fraudulent parents as well…” 
Penelope gasped as her tears freely flowed. “No! P–please, don’t!” 
The person laughed; the sound sending an involuntary chill down Penelope’s spine. They stalked forward until her back hit the wall and they breathed over her. Penelope squeezed her eyes closed, but felt them draw nearer. The tangy scent of alcohol mixed with cigar smoke filled her nostrils, as they whispered in her ear, “If you want my silence, you’re going to have to earn it.” 
Penelope’s eyes shot open as she frantically nodded her head. “Okay, j–just tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.” 
“I knew you’d see reason,” the unknown presence spoke while taking a small step away. They produced an envelope from their jacket and handed it to her. 
Penelope opened it and started skimming over the information; it was an email address with a set of instructions and a few other notes. She didn’t understand what it all meant; the main thing that stuck out was the location of where they wanted the photographer to be. 
“Why are they going to be outside Riley’s room?” 
“The less you know, the better.” They once again reached into their jacket, this time pulling out a small vial and handing it to her. “You need to give this to her beforehand. I do not care how it happens, just make sure it gets in her system; the earlier, the better.” 
“W–what is this? Is this a drug?” Penelope stammered as she stared down at the bottle in her trembling hands. 
The person smiled; a dark, wicked smile. “You don’t need to worry about that; just make sure she ingests it at an early enough hour.”
Tears once again streamed down Penelope’s cheeks as she frantically shook her head and tried to hand the items back. “N–no. I can’t do that, and I won’t. I would rather disgrace myself than–”
“You’re going to do it.”  
Penelope stood a little taller and yelled, “No, I won’t! I–”
Penelope received a sudden, sharp backhand to her cheek. She fell to the floor cradling her face but was soon flipped over onto her back, her aggressor pinning her to the ground. She opened her mouth to scream, but quickly closed it as she saw the gleam of a blade in the light right in front of her face. 
“Make a sound and I’ll kill you right here, right now.” The attacker moved the knife to hover over Penelope’s throat, applying just enough pressure to keep her subdued. “You have two options — you either comply and do as you’re told, or this is where your life will end. If you refuse to cooperate, you already know too much, and I will ensure you don’t live to tell the tale personally. But I won’t stop there, no – I’ll ruin your parents as well; the entire world will know what a fraud you and your family are.” 
“No… P–please. I – I can’t – I –” Penelope frantically stammered, trying to develop a coherent sentence. 
“You can, and you will. Otherwise,” they leaned forward, close enough to touch noses with Penelope. “I’ll dig your grave myself and throw those mangy mutts in with you after. Perhaps we can make it a family affair and shove your parents inside, too. After all, being exposed to the world and losing their only disappointment of a child would leave them with nothing left to live for; especially once they know of your treacherous sins.” They sat back with a vile chortle, letting the words linger.
Penelope cried harder, her breathing rapid and erratic as her panic boiled over. She opened her mouth to shout for help despite the blade at her throat, but a firm hand abruptly pressed against her lips. “I think I’m being very understanding, actually. I could just end you and move on to the next useless suitor, but I’m allowing you to make the correct choice; to answer the call of service for your country. That commoner has no business being here; you know it, I know it, everyone knows it! We have to deal with her!” 
After a tense moment of silence, her intruder grew restless. They rolled their eyes and huffed, “You’re running out of time. I’ll gift you ten seconds; agree, or...” The blade on Penelope’s throat suddenly held more force; hard enough she could feel her skin being lightly pierced. “I don’t think I really need to finish that sentence, do I?”
Penelope subtly nodded her head, afraid to move too much. Although she didn’t want to betray Riley in that way, she saw no other way out. Not only was her own life being threatened, but her parents as well; she was not willing to let them die because of her secrets they knew nothing about.
Her attacker soon chortled and sat up. “I had a feeling you would see it my way.” They patted her cheek, hard, before they stood and adjusted their clothing.
The intruder walked to the door and turned back around to address a whimpering Penelope. “As a reward for your service, I will make you a lady-in-waiting for the soon-to-be queen. I’d suggest you take the position and use discretion whenever necessary from here on out. If you do anything to compromise this operation, you will be sorry. Am I clear?“
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The following afternoon, Olivia met with Liam, Leo, and Ray as they discussed the events of the night prior. The court just arrived in Portavira, although there was a break in events until the polo match in a few days. They gathered in Olivia’s room, as that’s where Ray set up his equipment and continuously ensured the area remained free of compromises. 
Olivia told them about Penelope’s involvement, and Liam was certain Olivia was lying or playing some kind of sick joke. However, after seeing the proof himself, he knew it had to be true. He wasn’t close with Penelope by any means, but still felt betrayed. Riley was kind and warm to those around her, not a malicious bone in her body; what made Penelope want to get rid of her?
“We have to question her. I can’t be sure, but she might know we’re onto her. The look in her eyes –” Olivia shook her head with a heavy sigh. ”– I can’t explain it, but I don’t like it.”  
“I agree,” Leo interjected. “We need to know why she did it, man, because this makes absolutely no sense. I mean, Penelope – of all people? Did she accidentally eat some dog food or something, and it made her go kookoo?” 
Despite his overflowing anxiety, Liam laughed. “I really don't know. But we’re not all going to question her. I think it’s best if myself and Leo did this, so we don’t overwhelm her.” He spoke to the entire group. 
“Are you… okay to do that?” Leo tentatively asked. “I can take Olivia — or hell, even Maxwell or Drake, if you don’t think you can keep your cool. We can’t really risk her shutting down and withholding anything important...” 
Liam remained silent for a long moment. Honestly, he didn’t know if he could control himself. The selfish side of him wanted to confront Penelope face-to-face and demand answers. However, he knew he was teetering on a dangerous ledge, and her confession could provoke several different reactions. 
He didn’t remember the last time he’d slept or ate a full meal. Days were molding together, and he had no sense of time unless it pertained to the tour. Liam was simply muttering through, doing the dutiful checklist a monarch should on the daily and trying his hardest to stay afloat; even though in all reality, he felt like he was drowning in a sea of uncertainty. No amount of training could prepare him for something like this; he was simply in limbo until one of the many open ends finally led them to something of importance. As the King he held mighty authority; yet, he’d never felt so powerless. Every second of not knowing something was torture; he just wanted to see Riley with his own two eyes. 
“I… don’t think I can, actually. If you wouldn’t mind questioning her, I would very much appreciate it, Leo.” 
Leo patted Liam on the back with a reassuring smile. “No problem. Care to accompany me, Livvie?” 
“I suppose if we want some kind of answer, I’ll have to, won’t I?” Olivia smirked. 
“Are we doing this now, or?” 
“Yes. The sooner, the better.” 
“And we’re certain she’s here?” Liam asked. 
“She was out earlier with her dogs,” Olivia answered with an eye roll. 
Liam nodded as he rubbed his palms together. “This is a decent plan. I have a good feeling about this, guys.” 
For the first time since he opened his eyes to the truth about the narrative against Riley, Liam felt like this could take them somewhere relevant. This was a solid lead and although he knew it probably wouldn’t provide him with all the answers he was seeking, it was a damn good start. 
Liam spoke again, “Any other updates?” 
“I received the diagnostic report on Lady Riley’s dress on the way here." Ray explained. "The blood was mostly Riley’s, but traces from Tariq were present as well. There were a few hairs and skin cells noted, but the DNA only registers those two.”
“Oh… okay…” Liam quietly responded. He hoped deep down the mess was from someone else, but immediately felt foolish to let himself believe such a thing. Hearing it confirmed out loud made his stomach burn with anxiety; this is what he blinded himself to, this is what he ignored. The overwhelming guilt Liam was fighting momentarily took his breath away. 
“Otherwise, there are no new leads.” Ray briefly met eyes with Olivia, the both of them having a silent conversation; unbeknownst to Liam. It wasn’t technically a lie, but not the entire truth. Ray found something — interesting, but Olivia decided now was not the time to bring it up to Liam, at least until after they learned what exactly Penelope knew. “Where Tariq is concerned, I’ve hit a complete brick wall; there’s absolutely nothing.” 
“Nothing?” 
Ray shook his head. “Not a trace. His accounts show no transactions, and his family has not heard from him in months. I’ve checked every mode of transportation available to leave the country and he wasn’t on any of their databases.” 
“How is that even possible? There has to be something, somewhere. Seriously – Tariq has the IQ of a fucking peanut.” Leo interjected. 
“It could be a collection of reasons,” Ray answered. He suddenly stopped typing on his keyboard and took in everyone’s curious expressions. “Either he’s just incredibly clever and has an immaculate ability to cover his tracks, has hired someone to do that for him, or…” 
“He’s dead…” Liam quietly inserted, just above a whisper. His palms started trembling in his lap, and the only thing he could feel was his heart erratically thumping.
The deeper this web went, the further Liam felt himself slipping from reality. All he wanted was a sign, a concrete clue, anything to put him one step closer to finding Riley. The longer that time passed, the more he believed there was a grim reason they couldn’t find them. Just when the light at the end shined brighter, Liam was suddenly drug further down into the abyss of questions, making him doubt everything. 
“We can’t confirm that right now, Your Majesty. I’ve searched hospital records and there are no reports of him checking in at any of them and nothing solid to point to that conclusion. There are a lot of open ends regarding his whereabouts, but I have a couple more places to look before we should start truly discussing that possibility.” 
“Right…” Liam quietly responded as his mind raced. If Tariq’s DNA was on her dress, does that mean he’s the one who injured her? They already knew he was close to Riley; the pictures obviously showcased them together, but was Tariq responsible for attacking her, too? Those thoughts created a storm of rage he’d never felt before; just when he thought the fire had sizzled out, another splash of gasoline was poured onto the diminishing coals. Liam may not have felt a lot of hope, but he sure as hell felt the rage consuming his entire being. 
Leo noticed Liam's forelorn expression and reassuringly gripped his shoulder. “Don’t worry, man. We’re going to get an answer — soon.”
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A short while later, Olivia, Leo, and ‘Harold’ walked the halls of the Portavirian estate, searching for Penelope’s room. Liam opted to have a drink with Drake instead of being alone, as his already overflowing anxiety seemed to increase with every passing second. 
They rounded the corner and Olivia tapped on Penelope’s door, but received near silence; muffled barks rang out beyond the structure, although seemingly at a distance. After a few moments, she stepped forward and repeated the process, but again, no answer. Leo knocked a few times a little louder, but heard nothing — aside from the dogs. He reached for the handle and tried to turn it, just to see, only to find it locked.
“What should we do?” Leo asked Olivia. 
Olivia tapped her index finger against her chin. “I don’t know…” She furrowed her brow and stared at the door in front of her. “The poodles are inside, so she shouldn’t be far… Maybe we search around and see if we spot her anywhere? It’s still relatively early; she could have stepped out for a moment.” 
Leo and Ray both agreed, and the trio began their trek. They started outside by the pool and checked the lounge area, but Penelope wasn't located anywhere. They searched nearly every floor, even the roof, but found no signs of her. Everyone else was already in their room for the night, the estate nearly deserted as they scoured the abandoned hallways. After a while, everyone agreed to take their chances and return to Penelope’s door, as a good hour passed since they last attempted. 
A voice called out to them as they made their way up the grand staircase. They turned around to see Landon making his way to them with a grin on his face. “Good evening, Your Majesty, Duchess, a pleasure to see you both. Are the two of you just strolling, or have you been out on the town?” He chuckled with a playful side eye directed at Leo. 
“You know me,” Leo smirked, “but actually, we’ve been looking for your daughter.” 
Landon’s smile faded, instead replaced with a perplexed expression. “What do you need from Penelope?”
Leo and Olivia shared a hesitant look. “Actually, it’s confidential… Do you know where she is?” 
“She said she was retiring to her room earlier.” 
Olivia spoke next. “We checked there. We checked everywhere and we have no clue where she’s at.” 
“Perhaps she’s already in slumber; she is quite the heavy sleeper. How about I come with you? I was headed there anyway, as she was acting fairly strange earlier.” 
“Strange how?” Leo asked. 
“She kept hugging her mother and me, and told us how much she loved us. She just seemed — sad, as if she would burst into tears at any moment. And she asked me to ensure Merlin and Morgana get plenty of treats.” Landon furrowed his brows and shook his head. “I asked her what she meant, and she just gave me another hug. Emmaline thinks she’s getting ready for her time of the month, which is why I came prepared.” He held up a wad of chocolate bars and laughed.
“I take it Merlin and Morgana are the poodles?”
“Oh, yes. They’re practically her children. It’s been hard on her to leave them at home, but she’s done fairly well. The unexpected route changes actually ended up being very beneficial to her, since she gets to be with them for a few days. I’m certain she’s going to have a hard time leaving again, but I know she appreciates getting to see them. When it was time to leave for the engagement tour, she was practically inconsolable; she didn’t want to leave, to the point we weren’t sure she would attend at all.” 
“So, she didn’t want to return, then?” Olivia inquired, hanging on his every word. 
Landon sighed and looked away. “I don’t believe so, no. But we made sure she knew how much of a tremendous opportunity this was for her. She was incredibly reluctant, but finally agreed. In all honesty, I think most of her reservations were regarding the fact that she was going so far away. Penelope is a very timid girl; she doesn’t particularly enjoy the crowds or being away from home. I’m confident staying in Cordonia where things are a little more familiar will turn things around for her; perhaps she will enjoy herself a bit.” 
“Right…” Olivia trailed off, as her mind swirled around these new little bits of information. She questioned if Penelope's reluctance to come back had to do with Riley's disappearance. The haunting look in Penelope’s eyes as that cab drove away told Olivia she could be correct. 
“Lead the way, then,” Leo inserted with a forced smile, as uneasiness crept into the pit of his stomach. The hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood at attention, an involuntary shudder traveling through his body; he shook it off and politely smiled at Landon, who returned the gesture before starting the journey.
Everyone strolled through the halls together and within a short time, they were nearing Penelope’s room once again. Leo and Landon made small talk along the way, but Olivia didn’t listen most of the time. A bad feeling rapidly grew as they walked; why, she wasn’t sure, but it was becoming impossible to ignore. As they got closer, the air suddenly felt cold, raising goosebumps on her skin and sending a shiver down her spine. The hallway had an eerie aura to it that was beyond explanation; judging from the cautious expressions of everyone around, Olivia knew her feelings were not in her head. Landon appeared to be the only one who didn’t notice the atmosphere shift, although he hadn’t stopped talking long enough to take in the environment. 
Just as they were about to arrive, they heard muffled voices speaking not far away. Olivia furrowed her brows and started walking faster, practically running, with Ray and Leo not far behind. 
She came to an abrupt stop as she saw a litter of guards standing outside of Penelope’s room; dressed in full riot gear with what she assumed to be loaded assault rifles, all appearing to be awaiting instructions. Standing toward the back of the mass of people was Liam, who was speaking with Bastien in hushed tones. She could tell even from afar he was talking sternly; his angry demeanor instantly drew Olivia to him. Drake lingered close-by, wearing an expression of pure confusion.
Olivia approached them and inquired, “What’s going on?” 
“There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you,” Liam replied. “Did you question Penelope?”
“We were looking for her, that’s why we’re here, now.”
“But you didn’t find her?” Liam snapped, not even trying to hide the annoyance in his tone. 
“Not yet…” Leo answered as he took in Liam’s tense shoulders and ticking jaw. “Liam, what is going on?” 
Before Liam could respond, Landon interjected himself. “What is the meaning of this?!” 
Liam took a deep breath to calm himself and spoke in a calm, yet authoritative voice. “Duke Landon, I understand this may be hard for you to hear, but we have to take Penelope into custody.”
“Custody?! On what grounds?!” Landon hollered. 
Liam swallowed down the ball of anger and agitation lodged in his throat and spoke in a flat voice. “She is the prime suspect in the murder of Rhonda Floros.” Everyone’s eyes widened as their jaws hit the floor. “We will investigate further, but she has to be detained until we can–” 
“I – what?! You have no proof! This – this is an injustice!” Landon yelled as he frantically paced in front of Penelope’s door. 
Leo hesitantly spoke in a hushed manner. “Li, all we knew about was the photographer. How can you jump to that conclusion?” 
“The forensics came back and Penelope’s prints were all over the murder weapon. Her DNA was on everything else as well, but I’m focused on that knife.”
“Impossible! There has to be some kind of mistake!” Landon pleaded. 
“I’m sorry Landon, but the forensics does not lie,” Liam replied with a sad smile. “Trust me, I don’t want to believe she could have done something like this and I intend to figure it out, but we have to locate her first!"
Landon quickly stepped toward Penelope’s room and pulled a set of keys from his pocket. “She is in here — I know she is; she’s sleeping. I’ll wake her up and we can figure out this mess together, because I know for certain she is innocent.” He spoke as he unlocked the door and turned the handle. He entered and flipped the switch on the wall, the area becoming illuminated. 
Liam motioned for the guards to stay outside and followed closely behind. Olivia entered next, followed by Ray. However, a stern hand on Ray’s chest halted him in the doorway. 
“You are unauthorized personnel,” Bastien snapped.  
Liam quickly intervened. “No, he’s not.” 
“Your Majesty, with all due respect, I entered his credentials myself. I know for a fact what clearances he has and doesn’t.” 
Liam stepped up to Bastien with narrowed eyes. “Poof.” He snapped his fingers. “I just gave him access. Now, step aside.” He growled through clenched teeth, the vein in his neck profusely popping out.  
To be honest, Liam was stalling until he found Ray and Olivia; the three of them were going to question Penelope together. His earlier worries about keeping his cool were well out the window; now he was simply confused. Why did she hire the photographer? Did she really kill that maid? Did Penelope know they had spoken to her? Every piece of random evidence found had Penelope’s DNA – and only hers – on it in some fashion. Although the legitimacy of the scene was still in question, her fingerprints on the murder weapon were more than enough to detain her for questioning. 
Bastien never once took his eyes off Ray during the entire interaction. Ray observed Bastien's face crack slightly and saw him swallow and clench his jaw when Liam commanded him to stop. He finally moved his hand to allow Ray entrance, but held his intent gaze for just a moment too long. Olivia watched and noted how she wasn’t stopped, nor Drake or Leo — only Ray. She couldn’t help but wonder why Bastien didn’t want him specifically there. 
Liam glanced around as he entered and saw no signs of Penelope and nothing raising any kind of alarm. He’d never been inside this room before, but to the naked eye, not a thing was out of place. However, Liam couldn’t deny the sudden chill he felt as he stepped over the threshold. His skin instantly clammed up, and his heart rate increased substantially with every tense second that passed. 
Everyone else followed behind and did the same, but Landon circled the room while frantically calling Penelope’s name, only to get no response. He ducked into the bathroom to check there, but saw no traces of his daughter. Everything appeared just as it was earlier that morning when he personally prepared everything for Penelope’s arrival.
“This doesn’t make sense,” Landon huffed as he reemerged. “She said she was coming to bed. Where else would she go? Should we contact Lady Kiara? They had grown quite close.”
Liam sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Bastien, send someone to Lady Kiara’s room to check.” His patience with this situation was dissipating. An answer was right there dangling in front of his face; he could practically taste it. Even if he had to turn the entire continent upside down, Liam was going to find Penelope and make her answer for her part in this mess — whatever that could have been. 
“Yes, sir.”
Olivia glanced at the dresser and saw a jewelry box. Something on top of it quickly caught her attention; it was a piece of paper neatly folded with the words read me written on it in red ink. Her breaths immediately stopped as she stared at it for a long moment. Goosebumps raised on her skin as she realized the penmanship was strikingly familiar.  
She slowly reached out and brought it closer; Ray noticed and came to stand beside her to see what she had found. Liam and Landon continued to speak on the other side of the room, completely unaware of their discovery. Olivia carefully unfolded the sheet and quickly scanned over the contents. As she started reading, the color suddenly drained from her face, her hands trembling, and even tears were forming in the corners of her eyes. Her mind instantly started spiraling, trying to decipher what this meant.
Olivia and Ray stood gawking at the paper in a trance for an unidentified amount of time. The sound of Landon’s thunderous voice suddenly brought both out of their dazes. “This is absurd! She did nothing wrong!” 
“I understand your frustrations but as I said before, the forensics does not lie,” Liam answered in the calmest tone he could muster. “I have questions about all of this, Landon! But one way or another her DNA was littered–”
“Bullshit! Run the tests again! Something is going on here!” 
Liam winced at Landon’s volume, but shook it off and stood to his full height. “Duke Ebrim, you’d do well to remember who you’re speaking to and watch your tone. While I understand why you’re upset, I’m only here to figure this out. If you want to clear her name, help us find her so we can speak to her!” 
Landon frantically looked throughout the room, desperately trying to make sense of what was happening. At that moment, they heard a bark, followed by another softer cry; everyone suddenly stilled and an eerie silence took over, as they glanced at one another with furrowed brows. It sounded undeniably close, but there were obviously no dogs in the area. The silence in the air was deafening, but then it happened again and Landon finally pinpointed the location — the closet. It would make sense; Penelope heard the commotion and retreated in there with her poodles to hide because she was afraid. 
Landon made a bee-line for the door and wildly swung it open. He took a step back and two fluffy dogs slowly came out with their heads down, causing Landon to take a few steps back; they laid at Landon’s feet and whimpered. 
“What is it, Merlie?” Landon asked as he rubbed one of the dogs’ heads, their howls intensifying. 
The room’s air suddenly felt incredibly thick at the interaction. Liam felt physically sick to his stomach as recognition swept over him from head to toe — something was waiting for them in that closet. His hands shook at his sides, his breathing shaky and uneven as he stared into the dark, open doorway. 
Landon stepped over the poodles, who went and lay on the bed, but continued whining. As he entered, he ran a hand along the wall until he found the switch. The small area came to light, and his worst nightmare suddenly became reality right in front of his face. 
“NO!” Landon wailed at an ear-piercing volume as he dropped to his knees near the doorway. 
“What’s wrong?” Liam sought, but Landon broke into a fit of sobs and crumpled to the floor. 
Liam swallowed thickly and took a couple of cautious steps forward. Olivia suddenly appeared and tried to redirect him, but Liam was steadfast; whatever it was, he needed to see it for himself. As he got closer, he could see a chair lying on its side. His eyesight started on the floor and slowly traveled upward. He hadn’t made it very far before the color drained from his face with sweat immediately beading his brow at seeing a pair of dainty feet dangling in the air; one heel on, the other nowhere to be seen. 
Liam looked away but with a shuddered breath followed the body back up to the face, and sure enough, it was Penelope.
Landon suddenly shoved Liam out of the way. “MOVE!” He rushed over and held Penelope’s lifeless form, lifting her easily with one hand; the other quickly moving to remove the belt from around her severely bruised neck. Her limp body dropped into his arms and he cradled her to his chest as he rocked back and forth, making cries that would haunt Liam until the day he died. 
Liam regained his footing but remained cemented in place. This was it; this was their big break, but they only received more unanswered questions. Hopelessness flourished, as he saw no other solutions in sight. He felt like a mouse, mindlessly running through a maze just trying to reach the end for the reward. Penelope's testimony was that reward, but instead of finding the end of the maze, he encountered a sudden, abrupt wall.
Regardless of their actions, they faced a grim reality where a devastating setback countered every advance they made; one step forward, only to be met with two deadly steps back.
Liam suddenly couldn’t breathe; his lungs felt like fire with every rapid, hollow breath. The room started spinning, his vision hazing at a rapid rate. His heart pounded mercilessly, the sound overpowering Landon’s continuous wails filling the room. His hands flew to his chest and he stumbled backward, Leo and Drake quickly moving to catch him before he hit the floor. 
They lowered him to the ground and sat over him as Liam’s vision slowly faded out, their faces disintegrating into a pixelated, blurry image. He blinked his eyes a few times to regain himself, but found the rapidly spinning room made him nauseous. He felt Leo lightly tapping his cheeks, but when he tried to open his mouth, only an anguished cry escaped. 
Liam stared at the ceiling until the bright lights suddenly dimmed. His eyelids grew incredibly heavy until he succumbed to the weight of the world forcing them down. Darkness consumed him as he slipped into unconsciousness, a still silence overcoming his being. 
"Goddamn it," Leo grumbled to himself, as he watched Liam’s body relax. "Get a fucking ambulance! Now!" He hollered over his shoulder before his teary vision centered on his brother again. "Cummon, Li..."
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cariantha · 3 months
Text
Never Been Kissed
Book: Open Heart, Book 2 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: General Category: Fluff Word count: 1.8K Summary: Ethan helps Sawyer with one of her New Year’s resolutions. A/N: I woke up with this idea yesterday and hammered it out last night so I could post it in time for NYE. Please forgive any errors. Happy New Year!🎉🪩🍾
Events/Prompts: • Participating in CFWC Holidays 2023 • Participating in Choices Flashfics Week #66 Prompts 🫤3: “How much worse could it get?” • Participating in Choices Holidays Winter 2023
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Sawyer had never kissed anyone on New Year's Eve. 
Every year, for as long as she could remember, she rang in the new year with her family. The tradition was due in part to the fact that it was also her father's birthday. Twelve years away at school, but she always returned home for the holidays, never missing the annual event. Even last year, her first in Boston, she was able to make it home. A trip made possible by the plane ticket Ethan had given her for Christmas, a generous thank-you gift for helping him with Naveen.
In recent years their family party grew to include significant others and their babies. Everyone had a special someone to kiss at midnight. Everyone but Sawyer. 
When she broke the news to her parents that she was staying in Boston for New Years, there was disappointment on both ends of the line. A couple weeks had passed since she returned to work, and the medical leave she took to recuperate from the attack had already eaten up more time than she could afford. She couldn’t spare any more time away. Her parents were understanding, and Sawyer found a silver lining in that she finally had a special someone to kiss at midnight this year.
At least that was the case until she looked at her schedule a week later. Zaid accommodated her request for extra shifts, allowing her to make up clinic hours. But given that she worked a double on Christmas, she didn’t expect another on New Year’s Eve. She should have known better. It was one of the busiest nights of the year in the emergency department.  
🎉🪩🍾🎉🪩🍾🎉🪩🍾🎉🪩🍾
After a quick coffee break at Derry’s, Ethan helped Sawyer put her coat back on. He took the cream colored beanie that she pulled from her pocket and fitted it over her head. “Nice bunny tail,” he said, gently swatting the giant cotton ball sewn to the top of her knit hat. 
“Watch it, Mister, or you won’t be getting any of this tail for a while,” she turned and shook her rear end at him.
Just before they headed back inside the hospital, Sawyer squeezed his hand. “Sure you don’t want to volunteer and stay for another shift?” she asked, looking up at him with a puppy dog pout.
The first time Sawyer returned to work after the attack, with her landlord in tow, it had been a complete disaster. Though things had gone better this time around, Ethan kept an eye out for any signs of distress. She had her ups and downs, and he couldn't help but worry about her. "Is everything all right?"
“Yeah, it’s fine. You don’t need to worry. I promise,” she tried to assure him, sensing his concern. “I’m just going to miss you tonight, that’s all.” 
Ethan could still feel something was off, but dropped it.   
🎉🪩🍾🎉🪩🍾🎉🪩🍾🎉🪩🍾
It took him twice as long to get home with New Year’s revelers heading to their festivities around town. After a light dinner, a satisfying workout, and a long, hot shower, Ethan settled on his couch. The apartment suddenly felt too quiet, too empty. He missed his girlfriend. Since Sawyer began picking up double-shifts, they had not had a lot of time alone. Sure he got to see her at work. But it wasn’t the same as curling up together on the couch and talking about their day, or kissing whenever they felt like it, or waking up in each other’s arms. 
Hoping it would provide some distraction, he turned on the television and watched the local news. When the weather segment began, Ethan grew bored. He reached for a book on the coffee table, finding Sawyer’s notebook underneath. He recognized it from their DT meetings, where she took meticulous notes and sometimes doodled during their brainstorming sessions. She must have forgotten it the last time she stayed over. 
The way her mind worked fascinated him. She could be discussing the differences between apples and oranges when… Click! An idea would pop into her head to check their patient for uneven skin texture, giving her the lead needed to reach a successful diagnosis. 
Curious to know her thoughts about their current, undiagnosed patient, Ethan picked up the notebook and flipped through the pages. They were filled with detailed notes from each of their team meetings. Random side notes littered the margins. Tacos or burritos? He chuckled, wondering if the question was part of a diagnostic brainstorm, or if she was just hungry at the time. Turning the page to a more recent entry, he found Sawyer’s notes from a meeting he conducted last week. Ethan had attempted to inspire the team by conducting a goal-setting exercise. He asked everyone to jot down a few professional and personal goals for the new year. 
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Several emotions washed over Ethan as he read her goals. She was cute as hell, but his heart broke a little knowing how much weight she still carried on her shoulders. 
On the TV, the New Year’s Eve countdown now aired. A correspondent stood in front of a large crowd of people gathered in Times Square. “…And according to folklore, a kiss at midnight brings luck and strength to that relationship for the rest of the year. So, who will you be kissing when the clock strikes twelve?” Ethan looked down at her list again. Is that why she wanted me to stay tonight? Was that the reason she seemed so… disappointed? 
A timer in the corner of the TV screen counted down the time to the famous ball drop. Forty minutes until midnight. 
Ethan never paid any mind to superstitions. Thinking back to the events of the past two years, he thought to himself, “How much worse could it get?” He shuddered at the thought, bolting to his closet where he threw on a pair of jeans and a sweater, then slipped into his running shoes. He was not going to take any chances, and most importantly, he was intent on giving Sawyer whatever she desired. If she wanted a kiss at midnight, he would make it happen. Keys and jacket in hand, the door to his apartment slammed shut behind him.
Ethan stepped into the atrium and checked the clock behind the reception desk. Fifteen minutes until midnight. 
He pushed through the doors of the emergency department a couple minutes later. It was eerily quiet. The calm before the storm. In about an hour, the waiting room would be packed with reckless and unfortunate party-goers. He didn’t see Sawyer anywhere, but wanting to confirm, Ethan inquired at the triage desk. 
“Happy New Year, Dr. Ramsey,” the triage coordinator greeted. 
“Happy New Year, Anabel. Have you seen Dr. Brooks?”
“About an hour ago? She mentioned trying to catch a quick nap before the midnight rush.”
“Thank you.”
Ethan made his way to the on-call room nearest the emergency room. When he opened the door, the beds were full of sleeping doctors, but Sawyer was not among them. After a quick peek in the cafeteria, he headed up to the Internal Medicine floor. The hallways were dim and quiet at this time of night. He checked all the obvious places. Staff lounge, empty. Resident locker room, empty. The on-call room was also empty, save for a pager that someone had left behind. Duh! 
“Could you page Dr. Brooks, please?” he asked the nurse sitting behind the circular desk. Not a moment later, the pager in his hand started to vibrate. 
Of course. He wondered if this was the universe mocking him for his skepticism.  
Jan, the night supervisor, quietly exited the patient’s room behind him. “Hey kiddo, I thought you went home a few hours ago?” She noticed the pager in his hand. “Did someone page you?”
“Uh, no. Jan, I’m looking for Sawy- for Dr. Brooks? Have you seen her?” he asked. 
“No, hon, but I’ve seen several folks making their way up to the helipad for the fireworks. Maybe she’s up there?”
Yes! She loves fireworks. Ethan looked at his wrist. Five minutes until midnight. 
After thanking the nurses, he walked with purpose to the elevator bank and punched the up button. Come on, come on! Four minutes to midnight. 
When he reached the seventh floor he jogged to the helipad entrance. The automatic glass doors slid open and a frigid gush of wind hit his face. With only the light of the helipad beacons, Ethan frantically scanned the gathered crowd. She’s not here. Dammit!  
He checked the time again. Two minutes until midnight.
As he turned to head back inside, he noticed a large chunk of snow falling from above. It fell from a secluded section of the rooftop that few knew how to access. Naveen referred to it as “the bird’s nest.” He shared its location with Ethan, and in turn, Ethan shared it with Sawyer. It was a place they could go when they needed a minute of peace. To his surprise, he saw what appeared to be a snowball floating in midair. Wait… not a snowball. A bunny tail! 
When he reached the stairwell, he glanced at his watch again. One minute until midnight.
Climbing the stairs three at a time, he quickly ascended two flights of stairs, bursting onto the ninth floor. Thankfully these hallways were lined mostly with administrative offices and were completely abandoned given the late hour. Sprinting to the end of the long hallway, Ethan pulled on a door marked “Authorized Personnel Only.” He launched himself through the dark doorway and blindly climbed another flight of stairs. 
Just as his hand reached the door at the top of the staircase, he heard an explosion on the other side. Midnight.
Sawyer jumped when she heard the steel door crash against the stone exterior of the building. Turning around, she saw Ethan. Steam puffed from his mouth as he tried to catch his breath. 
With the sky sparkling behind her, he grabbed the sides of her face, and crashed his lips onto hers. Once the urgency had subsided, he changed the angle and kissed her again. Deep and tender. When he pulled away to give his lungs a chance to expand, Sawyer could see the fireworks reflected in his eyes.
Tucked in his embrace, she smiled up at him. “What are you doing here?”
“Helping you keep your New Year’s resolutions.” 
She looked at him confused. “Wait... how did you know about that?” She hadn’t remembered mentioning it to him, or anyone for that matter. 
“You left your notebook at my apartment.” He reached into his pocket and handed her the pager. “You also left this in the on-call room.”
“Shit. Please don’t tell my boss.” 
“You’ll have to silence me with another kiss,” he smirked. 
“Well, if that's what it takes...” she laughed, standing on her tiptoes. She brushed her lips against his and whispered, “Happy New Year, Ethan.” 
Before claiming her lips again, he whispered back, “Happy New Year, Rookie.” 
Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @peonierose  @potionsprefect @trappedinfanfiction @jerzwriter @queencarb @coffeeheartaddict2 @quixoticdreamer16 @jamespotterthefirst @liaromancewriter @zealouscanonindeer @tveitertotwrites @tessa-liam @youlookappropriate @kyra75 @socalwriterbee @txemrn @choicesflashfics
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aria-ashryver · 4 months
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I Cannot Bear To Hold You With These Unworthy Hands
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Book: Blades of Light and Shadow
Pairing: Aerin x m!human!MC (Dorian Silvertongue)
Words: 2.4K
Summary: After the night they spent together, Aerin weighs his troubled thoughts, trying to muster the strength to leave the bed, leave the tent, leave Dorian behind.
(or; Aerin writes his stupid little letter)
Ratings/Warnings: Teen - brief allusions to the fact that Aerin and MC have just slept together; brief mention that Baldur was abusive; brief mention of self-inflicted injury
A/N: A little ✨Aerin angst✨, as a treat! I haven't written for him (or Blades) before, so I'd love to know what folks think of the style and characterisation! Also, if you enjoy atmosphere (and being in pain), this piece was written to Adam Skorupa and Krzysztof Wierzynkiewicz's A Nearly Peaceful Place
@choicesficwriterscreations
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Aerin was a smart man. He knew that. Prided himself on it, in fact. He’d always been quick-witted, clever, his rigorous education obvious to anyone he spoke to. There wasn’t a puzzle he’d ever come up against that he couldn’t unravel with ease.
Until Dorian.
The celebrations in Riverbend had continued well into the night; beyond the confines their tent, Aerin could still hear the light refrain of a flute, the slow, poignant swell of a fiddle, as a pair of minstrels played their longing to skies littered with stars. It wasn’t so loud that he couldn’t sleep through it; beside him, curved protectively around him, Dorian’s breath had evened out into the slow rhythm of true sleep.
Aerin felt him sigh against his skin. His body was warm with rest and the lingering heat of their lovemaking. Not for the first time, Aerin marvelled at how utterly, hopelessly stuck he was.
Not in the least because, even asleep as he was, Dorian didn’t seem as though he would deign to let him go any time soon. The man had a build borne of long years of physical labour and swordsmanship; those iron-banded arms hugged Aerin firmly against his chest, one arm looping around his waist, the other curving around his shoulders. He held him so sweetly, so securely, that it seemed that Aerin’s half-baked escape plan would fall apart at the first hurdle — namely, ever getting out of this blasted bed.
An alarmingly vocal part of him hoped that that would be the end of it.
Because that was the other thing that gave him pause. Try as he might, Aerin simply couldn’t make up his mind.
He should go.
Right?
Right. He should go.
Leaving the party, leaving Dorian —a gasp hooked in Aerin’s lungs— it was the right thing to do.
A breeze shook the walls of the tent, the burnt gold silks cracking and shuddering in the wind. How much nicer it would be, to just stay in the bed.
It was warm, inside. Next to Dorian. Everything was soft linen sheets and warm wood, the tent’s furnishings humble and plain, but comfortable. The candles burned low at the small table where they’d sat together and shared a cup of wine earlier that evening.
They’d talked for an hour or two after slipping away from Riverbend’s quaint little festival —Dorian had laughed at his own jokes, as he was wont to do, and he’d grinned at Aerin’s acerbic wit in a way that had his stomach tripping over itself— and then Dorian had kissed him like there was nothing and no one else in the world at all.
Like the answer to every question he’d ever had was as simple as that.
How easy it would be to pretend. To stay here, his head nestled on his lover’s chest, listening to the slow rise and fall of his breathing. How easy, to forget the outside world existed.
Aerin’s mouth twisted in a bitter smile. It was exactly the sort of irony he ought to have expected, he thought. All his life, he’d been trapped. Trapped by Baldur’s abuses; trapped by the minutiae of courtly decorum; trapped in a role wherein no one would ever see him as a person, merely an idea, a ghost of a farce of a mockery of what they all thought a “Prince” ought to be.
Then, when the abuses had worn him down to nothing, and he’d thought to seize some measure of independence for himself… It had been mistake after catastrophe after vainglorious disaster that had won him nothing but regret and a year-long stay in a cold cell.
Now that he finally, finally had the freedom to make decisions for himself, now that he had a chance to atone and do some good with his wretched excuse for a life, well.
How ironic that that very freedom was little but another cage.
Self-loathing was a demon that pressed him bodily into the sheets, turned the warmth around him hotter by degrees until it was suffocating.
Doing right by Dorian meant being worthy of him. And being worthy of him meant he’d have to shatter the nascent trust growing between them. He’d have to betray Dorian, again, after all the kindness he’d shown him.
They had been three days out from Riverbend when the party had set camp one night, and a whip-thin fox had darted across the edge of the clearing. It was clearly wild, its hackles raised in gnawing hunger and fear, but Dorian had simply grinned and hunkered down with a strip of dried meat in his hand.
It had taken him most of the evening, but eventually Aerin had returned from gathering kindling with Mal to find the creature eating the meat right out of his outstretched fingers. Another half-hour of gentle coaxing and it had chirruped and curled up right in Dorian’s lap.
Mal had rolled his eyes, shaking his head as if he found the whole thing laughable. Expected, even. As though he knew how little chance anything —anyone— had of resisting Dorian’s charm.
As Aerin had stroked disbelieving fingers through the creature’s flame-red pelt, he’d finally understood that the gut-deep pull he’d been feeling since their first kiss by the lake was some combination of a deep, pervasive sadness… and a potent yearning.
An unabating ache.
Teeth, and claws, and snarling wildness; none of it seemed to bother Dorian. A deep-rooted instinct to lash out in self-defence, stemming from a life of fear and pain, it was simply no match for his easy smiles and slow coaxing. Once Dorian Silvertongue set his sights on something —on someone— they were all but his. Aerin yearned for Dorian to tame him, as patiently and painlessly as he had the fox.
When they’d packed up camp the following morning, the fox was gone, but the feeling lingered.
And when they’d happened upon a particularly tricky patch of forest trail not long after they’d left the clearing, Aerin hadn’t been able to resist taking Dorian’s outstretched hand.
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For a fleeting moment, Aerin let himself imagine he could stay.
That the pair of them weren’t tangled up in a mess of his own making; that the hand Dorian had held so gently wasn’t covered in blood he couldn’t wash clean.
That maybe they’d lace their fingers through one another’s to stroll along the piers of Port Parnassus, taking in the markets and the brisk night air. That they could be just a pair of travellers, unremarkable, unburdened save for the kiss of salt upon their skin as ocean mist sprayed up from the docks.
Laughter on their lips as an unexpected swell left them drenched.
Perhaps he’d get the chance to get back at Dorian for those godsawful sausages he’d had them all eat at the festival tonight — they could taste the fare from various street vendors, feed each other unfamiliar fruits and spiced wine of dubious vintage.
…He’d buy Dorian a handcrafted ring to replace the one he still wore on a chain around his neck. One that wasn’t a mark of Whitetower, of the Valleros family, but just him.
Just Aerin.
An honest gift from one beating heart to another, both of whom had known far too much pain and burden. A mark of a new beginning.
Dorian’s skin was hot beneath Aerin’s cheek; stifling a gasp, Aerin pulled back, blotting away the few errant tears that had begun to pool on his chest.
He stared long and hard at Dorian’s sleeping face. The way his hair fell in his eyes. The bruised shadows beneath them. The rasp of stubble at Dorian’s jaw that even now he could feel burning against the delicate skin of his thighs, his neck.
Dorian’s shifted slightly in his sleep, his fingers spasming on Aerin’s skin, clutching at him in a way that had a flurry of butterflies alighting in his stomach.
Frozen, Aerin caught his lip between his teeth, scared to move.
Hoping Dorian wouldn’t wake.
Praying he would.
It would be selfish of him to stay, he should go. He was a smart man; he knew he should do what needed to be done. It was the right thing to do.
Never mind that even thinking of walking away from the one good thing he’d ever had in his accursed life felt akin to shoving a knife into his own chest.
He’d done that, once.
The Nerada stone hadn’t wanted to budge, the rituals he’d undertaken to free himself of Shadow corruption were long, and laboured, and exhaustingly brutal, but he’d taken that pain as penance.
Somehow, it hurt less than the thought of Dorian waking to find that Aerin had betrayed him yet again.
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Sand hurtled through the hourglass as Aerin let his looming choices fall by the wayside.
He knew he was running out of time.
But right now, all he wanted to do was memorise exactly how it felt to be held.
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It was with a slow reluctance that Aerin drew his unworthy hands away from the only person he’d ever loved. Easing out of Dorian’s grasp, he slipped from the bed. Located his smallclothes in the jumbled pile of leather and linens and weaponry on the floor. Pulled those on. His trousers and boots, those too.
The heat of Dorian’s skin still warmed his palms; an echo that he knew would fade all too soon. He tugged his tunic on over his head, hopeful the clinking music of buckles and straps might rouse him from his slumber, dreading whatever excuse he’d make if it did.
Aerin knew Dorian hadn’t been sleeping well since his escape from the Ash Empire. Most nights he’d wake with a scream catching in his throat, a skittering panic in his eyes that Aerin knew well himself. More cruel then, that the fates would have him sleeping so peacefully tonight, the marks Aerin had left on his throat a brand, a traitor’s kiss, a ghost edge of a knife wound.
Aerin finished dressing.
Dorian slept.
He crossed to the nightstand, poured himself a glass of water from the decanter. Tried to swallow past the tightness in his throat.
Still, Dorian slept.
Would he think of him, Aerin wondered? Would Dorian ache for him the next time he bedded down alone?
…would he even be alone?
Aerin clamped his jaw shut against a swell of sudden nausea. He knew Dorian was open with his affections, and he’d thought he didn’t begrudge him that —what he shared with Mal was strictly physical, at least on Dorian’s part, though his blossoming relationship with Nia hadn’t survived their confrontation with the Dreadlord— but for a moment, bitter, ugly jealousy made him feel ill.
Would this second betrayal be enough to carve Aerin’s name out of his heart for good? Push him back into Nia’s arms?
Aerin swallowed.
Perhaps it was better that Dorian hate him. He didn’t deserve his kindness, much less his love. Not after everything he’d done.
Dorian was a blazing comet streaking through the night sky; Aerin the empty void he lit with his passing. He didn’t regret the night they’d shared together; far from it, he couldn’t remember ever being happier. Just this once, Aerin had longed to blaze up alongside him, lost in his fire, in his light.
Just this once, he’d wanted to cling to him as he burned.
It had been better than anything he’d ever dreamed.
Aerin set the glass down, his hands shaking around the decanter as he poured himself a second glass of water.
Of course he had to leave. How could he kid himself that he could have a place amongst the great heroes of Morella? Him — a hero? Who was he trying to fool?
Jaw clenching, Aerin took a seat at the table, drawing some papers and ink from his satchel. He laid them out with slow precision, hating himself, hating the world, hating everything he had to do.
Behind him, Dorian gasped in his sleep; it was an agonised shock of sound that cut Aerin to the quick. He leapt to his feet, crossing the tent to perch on the bedside as Dorian jolted himself awake.
‘P-please!’ Dorian gasped. ‘Don’t. Don’t!’
‘It’s alright,’ Aerin said.
One of Aerin’s hands came up to cradle Dorian’s face; the other rubbed soothing circles against his chest. Dorian’s hand flew up to clutch at his wrist.
‘Aerin?’
‘I’m here, it’s okay,’ Aerin murmured. His heart clenched painfully as Dorian’s sleep-addled gaze locked onto his and immediately grew less panicked. ‘You’re safe, Dorian. I’m right beside you.’
Almost before he’d finished speaking, Dorian’s eyes drifted closed — but not before he’d slid his hand higher to lace their fingers together where Aerin’s hand still cradled his face.
It was almost too much.
It would be so easy to sink back into that bed, sink back into a sense of belonging he didn’t deserve.
Aerin sucked a strained breath against the tightness in his lungs, gently extricating himself from Dorian’s grasp. He didn’t know if it was some ill-begotten vestige of Shadow, lingering in his chest even now, or if breathing was simply beyond him where Dorian was concerned.
Every time they met each other’s eyes, the air in Aerin’s lungs turned to pitch.
Perhaps… he could stay? Dorian’s love would alight him, and the pitch in his lungs would blaze and burn, every breath between their kisses turned golden and glowing with light and fire.
Perhaps he should leave.
Let it cool and harden. Let his lungs solidify. Let him never draw a joyous breath again.
He should leave.
He should leave.
He sat at the table, his pen poised above the crisp parchment. He stayed frozen in place for so long the ink dripped from the nib, pooling into a dense, black blot on the page. It soaked into the paper, the sight eerily reminiscent of tendrils of shadow bleeding into smooth, pale skin.
Aerin choked down the tears, the bile threatening to rise, and scribbled down the only useless words he could muster.
Dear Dorian,
I apologize for leaving so abruptly, especially without saying goodbye...
...what a Gods-forsaken joke.
Drying his eyes, Aerin stole one last look, not knowing if he would ever see Dorian again. He wanted to kiss him goodbye. Wanted it so desperately it burned. He wanted Dorian’s eyes to flutter open at the first touch of his lips; for his hand to snap out one more time to clutch at Aerin’s own; for him to whisper please.
Please, Aerin. Don’t go. Stay with me.
Dropping the folded parchment on the table, his fingers trembling, Aerin turned to leave, knowing he was a jester, he was a fool, he was the realm’s most miserable joke.
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starlight-starfury · 3 months
Text
Under Starlit Boughs
Book: Blades of Light and Shadow
Characters: (F!Elf!MC) Raine Nightbloom x Tyril Starfury
Rating: General
Warnings: None, but I’ll warn you it’s unapologetically sappy 😅
Length: 2k
Summary: After talking about the old parties of legend, the Fae realise they finally have cause to throw one of their own.
Tags: @liviusofpella @watatsumi-island @inlocusmads @lilyoffandoms @brycesgirl @sophie-summer @lancelotsimp @megas-choices @princess-geek @julia-highstorms @citrusdarling @mavidraws @lover-also-fighter-also @otakudreamer @stars-are-within-me @mari-lwyd-fannibal-blog @camillyohfreire @mindlesschicca @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @choicesficwriterscreations (tagging everyone who interacted with this post, if anyone wants to be added to the tag-list permanently please let me know! I’ll be making a post about it in a few days as well 💜)
A/N: Because we deserved a cute Whimsywood date 🫶
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A song of laughter echoed in the air as everyone sat crowded together under the shade of the pearl petal tree, telling stories and sharing fruits that tasted of sweet mallow and fine dew.
Even the forest seemed to find wonder in the joyous occasion as the trees sent forth a gentle breeze, causing the flowering boughs above to sway and the soft petals to cascade down around the storytellers like light rainfall.
As the Fae reminisced over tales passed down from their ancestors about the Light realm, questions began to arise, and Tyril spoke. “Stories of your parties have become legend in our world. What were they really like?”
“That was long before I sprouted,” the Fae Elder answered, silent throughout the conversation but now smiling fondly at the memory. “But I heard the tales from my elders. They spoke of intricate fashion, delectable foods and wine that tasted of Light.”
“You mean to say, you’ve never thrown one yourselves?” Raine asked.
Willow shook their head. “Very few of us remain, and we’ve no cause to celebrate of late. Not with Shadow lurking so close.”
“Of course you do!” She said. “You’ve been trapped in the shadow realm for centuries, isn’t returning to your homeland worth celebrating?”
The Fae whispered and hummed amongst themselves for a moment, their murmurs like the faint rustling of leaves amid the forest undergrowth before they leapt to their feet enthusiastically.
“Raine is right!” Willow declared, beaming. “Let us all rejoice. To returning to the realm of Light, and to honour our new friends who will help ward our forest from the Shadow!”
The glade seemed to thrum with excitement as everyone stood and the Fae began making their preparations. Raine made her way over to Tyril, who had leant against one of the ancient trees and was gazing around at the magical clearing, awestruck.
“I see some things never change,” she grinned. “I’m glad you finally got to meet the Fae, Tyril.”
A smile touched his lips as she reached his side. “I suppose I have you to thank for that.”
He nodded back to the forest, where multicoloured orbs of light drifted through the air like fireflies. “It’s incredible that a place so vibrant and full of life can exist in a world such as this.”
Raine looked towards the enchanted scenery, admiring how the trees seemed to bend and dip their branches in greeting to the Fae as they walked past, and how the glowing flowers bloomed in clusters like starlit nebulae below. It made her mind drift back to the Deadwood, the decayed forest merely remnants of a distant memory compared to the magical sight before her.
“Well,” she said at last, “if all this travelling has taught me anything, it’s that beauty often thrives in chaos.”
Tyril’s eyes softened as his gaze shifted to her new attire. She looked like a forest nymph or woodland goddess in the sylvan dress, woven of emerald silk and flowing gossamer that shimmered like dappled sunlight alongside the entwined branches climbing across her fair skin. A crown of leaves was nestled in her hair, and her eyes shone violet as the wisteria blossoms above.
“It does, indeed.” His smile was tender as he reached up to gently cup her cheek and she swayed into his touch, his words a faint whisper against her skin. “Even the stars envy the brightness at which you shine.”
His sentiments were proven true as she beamed under his praise, but before she could answer him the Fae returned to the clearing all at once, and the moment was disturbed like ripples spreading across the surface of a tranquil pond.
“Come, come!” Willow beckoned, and the group reconvened beneath the pearl petal tree once more.
Raine noticed some of the Fae were holding instruments, elegant wooden flutes with budding sprouts that appeared to have been carved from the branches of a fallen tree.
“Is this one of your traditions?” She asked.
“Yes!” Tansy clapped. “The Fae Circle is one of our oldest celebrations, with much music and dancing!”
“Hang on, a Fae Circle?” Mal said before turning to the rest of the group, voice hushed. “Are you sure this isn’t just a trick to keep us here forever?”
“Mal!” Nia scolded. “Don’t be rude!”
“What, haven’t you heard the legends? Mortals who entered a Fae circle were never seen again.”
Imtura followed his gaze pointedly towards where a series of petrified faces were engraved in the bark of a large tree. “…Those aren’t just carvings, are they?”
Willow’s large eyes saddened, a swirling mist shimmering within the dark pupils. “They came to harm our forest, but the trees are our home and family. They would have plucked us from the soil one by one and uprooted everything!”
Raine leant in to whisper to Tyril. “Is all of this true?”
He nodded slowly. “I’ve said before that the Fae are made of magic down to their very essence. That power can become wild and unrestrained if provoked, and it sounds as though they’ve been a target in the shadow realm for some time.”
The nearby Fae’s ears began to droop as Willow continued speaking. “We try to strengthen our roots and bloom despite our hardships, but the trees cast a heavy shadow, and our numbers grow smaller still.”
Raine frowned. “You won’t have to worry about that in the Light realm, we’ll make sure no one harms your forest.”
Willow’s eyes brightened once more at her encouragement. “We cannot thank you enough! Please understand, the Fae Circle is an act of joy and all will be safe. And since you have come to help us, the forest will always remember you as friends.”
Tansy nodded. “The trees also like it when we play music to them, their boughs are always lighter and their leaves shine bright.”
“How does the Fae Circle start?” Tyril asked, and those holding instruments sat themselves upon the grass, lifting their flutes as they began playing a delicate yet jubilant tune.
“Everyone must stand in a circle around the tree and hold hands!” Willow said cheerfully, and Raine smiled as Tyril entwined his fingers with hers.
The rest of the Fae were the ones who began leading the dance, and the others quickly picked up the unfamiliar steps. It wasn’t long before everyone found themselves spinning and twirling around the pearl petal tree in unison.
Laughter filled the air once more, and the sweet petals drifted down around them as though joining in the dance as well until everyone was rosy-cheeked and breathless.
The celebration carried on through brief respites, sharing refreshing drinks between dances and telling stories both old and new. For once, both the realms were united in their joy, and together they could help the Fae create a brighter future for their people, and for each other.
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When all the air had escaped her lungs, Raine wandered towards the edge of the glade to catch her breath. It wasn’t long until Tyril found his way to her side, and together they both sat down on a fallen, moss-covered log.
She looked up to where the branches of the great trees parted to reveal the vast night sky, an expanse of darkness that seemed impenetrable by even the brightest light, unusually empty and bare.
“There are no stars here,” she murmured. Without them, the sky felt hollow, like a canvas lying blank. No famed hero’s legacies lied etched across the surface, no constellations adorned the sky shimmering with stories still untold, no glimmer of hope was to be found in the endless dark that stretched on eternal.
“Then we make our own.” Tyril said, before he cupped his hands and little motes of starlight drifted from his fingers into the air. The colourful specks hovered there for a moment, emitting a soft glow that pulsed in unison with the rhythm of their beating hearts before rising up to settle themselves among the lush branches.
“They’re beautiful.” She smiled and they both sat quietly for a moment, feeling more at ease in a realm full of chaos and uncertainty while in each other’s presence, watching as the lights twinkled softly above.
“Do you find it strange? Seeing a sky without them?” Raine asked.
He nodded slowly. “In Undermount we revere the stars, our very existence is mirrored in their being. The history of our people is written among them, with each great victory and tragedy carved into the constellations like a woven tapestry to display all we have been through, and all that is to come.”
Tyril lifted his gaze past the tree branches. “To imagine a place without their existence feels…wrong.”
She looked down, subconsciously beginning to rub her wrist. The skin where her bindings had been was red and raw, another reminder that she had allowed herself to be captured, that she had been weak.
A frown creased his expression as he glanced at her hands, but his voice was gentle when he spoke. “None of us blame you for what happened.”
“And what if I blame myself?” She whispered, tears beginning to pool in her eyes. “Everyone went through so much because of me, especially you…”
Raine trailed off as he slowly lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing soft kisses to the inside of her wrist, each brush of his lips lighter than a butterfly’s wings.
She dipped her head as her cheeks flushed light pink, warming under his gaze before he pulled her into his arms and she leant her head to rest against his shoulder.
He murmured into her hair. “I couldn’t protect you last time and I…I blamed myself every day you were gone because of it.”
“Tyril…” she frowned. “None of that was your fault.”
“I know, but that does not change the fact that I failed you.” His eyes filled with sorrow as he traced a finger along her jaw, tilting her chin to look at him. “Every day my heart ached for your return. To see you again, even if you were but a fragment of a dream…”
She let the tears fall as she pressed her lips softly to his, overcome by emotion as she ran her fingers through his raven hair, longer than she remembered. His kiss held all his heartache and remorse from that painful year before he leant back, resting his forehead against her own.
They stayed that way until a softer tune began to play from the more lively part of the forest, and Raine threaded her fingers through his. “May I?”
“Always,” he smiled as she led him to his feet, the two of them alone in their own section of the woods. “Do you remember the first time we did this?”
“Danced?” She asked, and a pleasant night breeze surrounded them as Tyril guided her into position. “You mean at the masquerade?”
He nodded. “Sometimes that feels like a lifetime ago, as though everything has changed since then.”
“And yet, nothing at all.” She said, her voice quiet and tinged with sorrow.
His gaze was far away for a moment before he looked back towards her once more. “Never mind that now, all that matters is having you back in my arms.”
“And there's no place I'd rather be,” she smiled.
He spun her into a graceful twirl before pulling her back in close, and they swayed together gently as the song slowly faded into the next.
They danced until Raine found herself backed against one of the grand oak trees, and when she looked up she could still see the little stars Tyril had summoned earlier hovering among the branches, some of them twinkling as though they were shooting across the sky.
“I like having our own little universe,” she said, and the bark was rough against her fingertips as he leaned in for a kiss once again, like a blazing star that would sooner collapse than part from her touch.
“The night sky is ours,” he assured, and the rest of the forest seemed to melt away under his embrace, until it was just the two of them dancing beneath their stars above.
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aallotarenunelma · 4 months
Text
So This is Love
Pairing: Aerin Valleros x elf!M!MC (Raine Nightbloom) from Blades of Light and Shadow 2.
Word Count: 762 words.
Category: Angst / Emotional Hurt/Comfort
Rating: Teen, to be safe (mention of abuse)
Disclaimer: The characters and the lore belong to Pixelberry. Raine belongs to @oh-so-youre-a-nerd :)
A/N: Few weeks ago, @oh-so-youre-a-nerd reached out to me and requested a drabble for Aerin and their MC. I had never written for Aerin and I had never written for other MCs than mine. Among the prompts they suggested, this comic of theirs caught my attention. I hope I have done it justice, as well as your amazing Raine. Thank you for the request, I really liked writing it! 💛
Perma + Blades: @lilyoffandoms @kyra75 @starlight-starfury @missameliep @stars-are-within-me @choicesficwriterscreations
Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated. :)
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The sky was heavy, so was Raine and Aerin’s mood. The air was electric, Aerin was certain he would see and feel static if he were to touch Raine. But he wouldn’t because they had just been fighting. And Aerin had been triggered. It had always been a synonym of inevitable pain because of Baldur, who had enjoyed taking it out on him during his whole life.
Breathing in his presence had been a crime as long as he could remember. He didn’t want to remember. He tried to chase the unpleasant memories away, in vain. Baldur's presence was still haunting him, through all the damages he had caused on his personality. Would he ever recover? It was hopeless. He was hopeless.
Raine seemed to think he eventually would, although not entirely, that he was on the right path but he was a mess and Raine would finally realise it, sooner rather than later.
Time had suspended its flight, now that the quarrel was over. Aerin knew that it was the last straw for the handsome elf. They were staring at each other, Aerin was barely breathing, as always in this kind of situation. Raine couldn’t detach his amber eyes from Aerin’s sad gaze. At this moment, he was looking like a lost kitten. A kitten with a bite and a scratch but harmless today. Raine knew it was a reflex. Aerin had been sent to Baldur’s school, the harshest school in Whitetower, and he had not escaped it unscathed. His mental scars were as numerous and as big as those he had on his chest, due to the Nerada stone’s removal.
The elf had all the possible patience for the fallen prince. So far, his progress had been steady and he was there to support him, to help him the best he could. He wasn’t blind to Aerin’s faults and had no shame in calling him out but the truth was that he couldn’t help but being captivated by Aerin. He was charming and knowledgeable but it was his eyes, colour of mud, that he could never forget. Whenever he was peering into them, he could smell the wet soil, feel the soft yet lumpy texture and he was not afraid to have some of this mud on his skin. It wasn’t dirt. It was a part of Aerin.
Raine noticed that he couldn't remember how their fight had started. All he was seeing was Aerin frozen like the time and he felt the urge to comfort him, the urge to let him know that their quarrel had been silly. So he extended his right arm, a movement reasonably slow but a movement which made Aerin turn abruptly his head on the right, bracing himself for the inevitable slap that would follow. Raine’s eyes widened. Was Aerin refusing his touch? He hesitated for a second before resuming his gesture. Aerin’s face was completely tensed, contracted and Raine understood what was going on inside his head. Slowing down to a slow motion, Raine’s hand finally felt Aerin’s cheek and saw him flick his eyes wide open, taken aback.
The hand was not soft but callous, a clear contrast with its gentleness. Time resumed its flow and five seconds went by before Aerin leaned into Raine’s palm. The Sun was suddenly shining inside him, so bright he couldn’t breathe once more. He looked at his companion one last time before closing his eyes, the sensation proven to be overwhelming. Raine was the Light. Tears escaped and glided along the elf’s thumb that was moving across his left cheek, close to the corner of his eye. Aerin realised that disagreements weren’t always leading to being beaten. He had learnt that Raine would not hit him like Baldur did because he wasn’t him and hadn’t behaved like him. Ever.
A part of him was feeling safe. The other part couldn’t believe what was happening. Raine was the Light. He was the Shadow. The Shadow aspiring to become lighter to be closer to Raine. He wanted to be worthy of his friendship, worthy of his affection, worthy of him. But Aerin fully knew that he wasn’t deserving anything coming from him. Yet, Light and Shadow couldn’t exist without one another. Raine was convinced that under the Shadow, there was still a lot of Light in Aerin and he wanted to show him that he was seeing it.
Aerin’s body was now wracked by sobs and Raine took his hand away. Aerin almost didn’t notice. And the Light embraced the Shadow that needed protection and real love.
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ao719 · 4 months
Text
…Sometimes Not (Part 12)
It’s Always Been You
This is a submission for @choicesflashfics, using prompt # 1.
Title inspo: It’s Always Been You - Phil Wickham
A/N: This is an au mini series to my Always You story. Not beta’d. Please excuse any errors.  
Book/Pairing: TRR; Liam x OC (Reyna)
Rating: M • Warnings: mild nsfw … some lemon zest, if you will.
Word count: 2016
Catch up here
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Reyna wasn’t supposed to arrive in Cordonia until later in the evening, but after days of poking and prodding from her aunt during their week-long trip to the mountains, wanting to know what was going on between her and Liam, she finally caved. She detailed Liam’s confession of how he felt, their last conversation and how she’d tried to tell him she felt the same but how he’d been so convinced she’d fallen out of love with him over the years that he wouldn’t let her say anything, and how she’d given him her journal that was filled with three years worth of letters to him expressing what he refused to let her say out loud.
Next thing Reyna knew, Aunt Elsie — who’d always been the biggest cheerleader when it came to the two of them being together — was on the phone with an old friend of hers, cashing in what she claimed was a long overdue favor to get her on an earlier flight, cutting their trip a bit short. 
When Reyna arrived in Cordonia that morning, she headed straight to the palace. The first person she ran into was Leo; he told her Liam wasn’t there, but that he was set to return that evening. She planned to wait for him, but Leo — who noticed his brother had been acting a bit oddly since his return from New York — knew Liam would probably enjoy the surprise, and insisted that she go to him; he pulled a guard aside and instructed him to take her to Valtoria. 
And now, here she was. 
Hovering in the doorway of the master suite inside the estate, Reyna stared at Liam; he was seated on the bed, hunched over with the palm of one hand pressed against his temple to prop his head up, shielding his face from her view. His other hand gripped the top of her journal to keep it open as he read what appeared to be the last page. 
Hearing his breath hitch, Reyna’s brows rounded in concern. “Liam?”
When he lifted his red-rimmed gaze and Reyna saw his tear-stained face, she felt her chest tighten as she took a tentative step over the threshold. His brows knit and more tears started to fall as he stared at her for a heartbeat, and in the next, he was standing and moving towards her. 
Liam’s arms wrapped tightly around Reyna and she instinctively returned the embrace; his wet cheek pressed against hers as he tightened his hold. His whole body was taut and his shoulders shook as he silently cried. 
“Liam …” 
“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I should’ve listened. And I’m … I’m so sorry, Rey.” 
Reyna closed her eyes against the sting in them as he held her even tighter. She drew back just enough to look at him, needing to slightly arch because his hold on her wouldn’t loosen. Shifting her arms from around his neck, she cupped his face in her hands, gently brushing away the tears from his cheeks before they were replaced by more. She held his misty blue-eyed gaze for a moment as her own tears started to fall. “Now you understand,” she said, and his chin trembled as he nodded. “I never stopped loving you, Liam. Not for one single day.”
Hearing her words, Liam felt his heart — which was beating so hard in his chest he swore she could both hear and feel it — swell, and every heartachingly, longing-filled word he’d read in that journal filled his head again. All this time … the three years they were apart and even in the last year since they reunited … she had loved him through it all. 
With her hands still cupping his face, she tilted hers toward him. She brushed her thumb against his bottom lip before drawing him to her, closing the scant distance between them when she pressed her lips to his. He sighed into the kiss, tasting the salt from both their tears as an otherworldly force pulsed through him. 
It was like a long-missing piece had finally returned and locked itself into place right where it belonged. It felt like home — she felt like home. 
And for the first time in years, he felt whole. 
“I love you, Liam,” Reyna whispered against his lips; she barely got his name out before he kissed her again.
Hearing her say those three words again after so long awoke something inside Liam that he wasn’t sure he’d ever feel again. “I love you, too.” He kissed her again. “I’ve always loved you.” Another kiss. “And I always will.” 
Liam kissed her again, and when her lips parted against his, a rush of air escaped him and his body shuddered when his tongue met hers. Keeping his one arm wrapped tightly around her waist, his free hand came up, sliding across her cheek and into her hair until it curled around the nape of her neck as he deepened the kiss. It was all-consuming, stealing the very breath from his lungs. 
When Liam heard a whisper of a moan slip from her lips, something inside him snapped at the sound, his usual ability to keep himself controlled shredding at the seams. His hands dropped to the hem of her shirt and he was lifting it a heartbeat later, only breaking the kiss to pull it over her head, and as he did, she was tugging at his. He took the cue, reaching back with one hand to pull it off, and dropping it to the floor as his lips found hers again. 
Wrapping one arm around her, Liam spun her away from the door, swinging his other arm out and closing it before effortlessly lifting her; her legs wrapped around him as he carried her toward the bed.
There was a tangle of arms and hands as they stripped one another of their remaining clothing between passion-filled kisses and their hands exploring each newly exposed area of skin. 
With the rest of their clothes now strewn haphazardly on the floor, Liam finally drew back to take in her bare body beneath him. The years of painful longing — of wishing for just a single kiss, touch … even a mere word — came to a halt. He had no more reasons to wish, to yearn for her. She was there. They were together. And he knew it was going to be different because there was nothing standing in their way this time. 
It was going to last. 
It was going to be forever. 
Liam slowly skimmed a hand along the curve of her body, pausing on her thigh as his gaze shifted back up to hers. “Say it again,” he whispered. 
Reyna softly smiled. “I love you.” 
A breath fell from her lips as they parted when she felt Liam’s hand slip between them and a finger slide against her. When he felt how ready she was, an impatient groan escaped him; he had every intention of savoring every part of her later, but at that moment, he needed to feel all of her. 
In the next moment, Reyna gasped followed by a moan when she felt him filling her; Liam slowly pushed home inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt. He dropped his head to her shoulder as a moan rumbled from deep within his chest at the feeling of being wrapped around her again. 
Another moment later, Liam lifted his head when he felt her fingers lace with his, and his eyes searched hers as he began to move. “You’re mine,” he whispered with a thrust of his hips, the words spoken with a hint of question behind them. 
“I’m yours,” Reyna assured him. “I’ve always been yours, Liam.” 
Another moan escaped him, in part from her words, in part from the way she took him even deeper when her legs wrapped around him. He found her lips again with another thrust as her hands curled around his neck and into his hair. “I’ve only ever been yours,” he whispered. 
Liam drew out each stroke, prolonging the moment as long as he could until they were panting between impassioned kisses and moans, both on the edge of release. 
When he picked up his pace, Reyna clung to him, and Liam didn’t relent until her back arched off the bed and his name dripped from her lips in a mantra of breathy moans. He followed a moment later, a gravelly groan ripping from his throat and his entire body going taut as he dropped his head to the crook of her neck.
After several long moments, as they both still trembled and tried to catch their breath, Liam lifted his gaze to hers; Reyna brushed a few stray locks of his tousled hair away from his forehead before she lifted her head to press a soft kiss to it, then to the bridge of his nose, then to his lips. He returned the kiss, savoring the slow curl of her tongue against his. 
“I love you,” Liam whispered when they parted for a breath. “I love you so damn much, Rey.” 
A sated, heartwarming smile curled on Reyna’s lips. “I love you, too.” 
****
A while later, Liam and Reyna lay curled up in the bed; his arm was wrapped around her as he stroked his fingers idly along the length of her spine and their limbs were tangled beneath the sheets. Neither was in any rush to leave the other’s embrace. 
Liam’s gaze shifted down to where her head rested on his chest; her fingertip traced lazy shapes against his skin as she stared off, seemingly in deep thought. “What are you thinking about?”
“You,” Reyna answered with a sigh before tilting her head back to look at him. “You and this and … us.”
“What about it?” Liam asked as he gently swept a few wisps of hair off her cheek.
“How we’re going to make this work. Because I don’t …” Reyna dropped his gaze, biting her lip somewhat self-consciously. “I don’t want to be without you anymore, Liam. I want to be wherever you are.” 
Liam’s thumb scooped beneath her chin and tilted her gaze back to his. He searched her eyes for a moment before capturing her lips in his as he shifted, guiding her back against the mattress. He wanted that, too. After spending so long apart and knowing what he knew now after reading the letters inside that journal, he didn’t want to be without her. Not ever again. 
And he had but one thought at that moment. 
When he drew back, Liam’s thumb softly stroked her cheek, staring at her with nothing but unadulterated adoration. “Then marry me …” 
“What?” Reyna gasped as her eyes widened. “Liam, we … we just got back on track. Hell, we’ve only been on track for like … an hour.” 
“Rey … had the past gone differently, I have no doubts that I would have already taken that leap with you, but … things didn’t turn out that way. Yet, in all the time we were apart, nothing about our feelings — about the love we have for each other — changed. I don’t want to be without you either because we’ve spent long enough apart.” Liam was silent for a few moments as she took in his words. “You love me?”
“More than anything,” Reyna answered without hesitation.
“And I love you. That’s all that matters.” The pad of Liam’s thumb brushed over her lips. “I told you four years ago in Applewood that you were it for me, and those words are as true today as they were back then. It’s always been you and it will always be you. There is no one else I want to be with … to spend my life with … than you, Rey. And there never will be.” She took in a breath … and then smiled as she held his blue-eyed gaze. He smiled in return as he leaned down, grazing his lips against hers. “Say yes,” he whispered. “Say you’ll marry me …” 
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sfb123 · 11 months
Text
Leaping to Conclusions
Pairing: Liam x Riley
All characters belong to Pixelberry
Summary: The pressure to produce an heir is getting to Liam and Riley, leading them to turn to some unconventional methods.
Rating: PG, Adult Language
Word Count: 1,395
A/N: This fic is insanity guys, I'm not even going to pretend it's anything but. I learned the most absurd fun fact this week, and after sharing it with pretty much everyone I know, @ao719 convinced me that it needed to be a fic, and here we are.
For the record, this story doesn't take place in any of my timelines. My Liam and Riley can be weird, but never this weird. 😂
I am participating in @choicesflashfics, the prompt: “Wait a second. Pause and rewind … what did you just say?” will appear in bold below.
And finally, nobody has pre-read this, so apologies in advance for my horrendous grammar, and anything else about it that sucks.
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Riley’s eyes fluttered open as she felt Liam’s lips trailing slowly across her shoulder. She moaned softly and arched back into him. 
“Good morning, love.” He whispered huskily into her ear. 
“When it starts like this it is.” She replied, reveling in the attention she was receiving from her husband. 
As his hand traveled up her body, her stomach started to lurch. Her hand flew to her mouth and she leapt out of his arms and rushed to the bathroom of their guest room in the Walker ranch. Liam sat up and watched with worry as the door slammed shut. 
After a few moments, Liam stood and approached the door. He could hear his wife on the other end, and he knew exactly what was going on. He rapped gently on the door. “Riley, are you alright? Can I get you anything?”  
The only response he received were a few more retching noises, followed by the toilet flushing. Soon after, the door opened, and Liam met Riley’s red, blotchy eyes. “Sorry.” 
Liam wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against him. “You don’t have to apologize, it’s not your fault.” They stood there in silence as Liam held her. “Riley, do you think you may need to take a test?” 
Since the royal couple had gotten married, they’d been facing pressure to produce an heir. While they did not take their positions as monarchs lightly, for them, it was more about building a family together. 
“It wouldn’t hurt.” Riley shrugged before returning to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Liam took a seat at the end of the bed to wait for her. 
“Oh no!” Liam stood and rushed back to the door at Riley’s cry. She came back into the bedroom, more distraught than she had been before. “I dropped the test in the toilet.” She buried her head in her hands. 
Liam chuckled slightly, as he wrapped his arm around her. He had read that pregnancy hormones could cause overreactions; he assumed, hoped, that was why she was so upset. “It’s alright, just take another one.”
“Liam, it was the last one!” She snapped.
He stepped back, shocked by her aggression. “That’s alright, we can go into town and get more.” 
“Are you kidding?!” Riley threw her hands up in frustration before moving to the bed and dropping down, burying her face in the pillow. “The press has been all over us, the last thing I need is for them to get a picture of me buying pregnancy tests!” 
Liam sat beside her on the bed, rubbing her back gently as he racked his brain for a solution. “I’ve got it!” 
Riley rolled over and sat up, leaning against the headboard. “What?” 
“We’re in Texas, surely there is a frog around here somewhere.” He said as he moved to the dresser, pulling out a pair of jeans. 
“Liam, this is no time to go wildlife gazing, I might be carrying the heir!” Riley chided him.
“Love calm down, the frog will be able to tell us.” He said matter of factly as he continued to get dressed. 
Her face contorted into a confused expression. “Wait a second. Pause and rewind … what did you just say?” 
He sat beside her on the bed and slid on his boots. “For about twenty years, starting in the nineteen forties, before the pregnancy tests we are familiar with today, there was the Hogben test. A British zoologist, Lancelot Hogben, discovered that when urine samples from pregnant women were injected into frogs, the frog would spawn eggs within eighteen hours. It was the most rapid and reliable pregnancy test of the time.” 
Riley stared at her husband in stunned silence. “How the fuck do you even know that?” 
“I like history.” He shrugged. 
Still befuddled by her husband’s solution, Riley took a deep breath. “So you want to inject a frog with my pee, and then in 18 hours either nothing happens and I’m not pregnant, or I am pregnant and we also have a hundred and seventy two frog eggs?” 
“They’re called frogspawn, love.” He corrected. 
She slapped her palm against her forehead. “Yeah, because that’s the most crucial thing in this conversation.”
“I’m sorry, force of habit,” Liam smiled sheepishly. “Would you like to try it? It’s a fascinating concept, I would be interested to see it in action.” 
“Liam, I don’t even want to touch a frog, let alone do science experiments on it.”
“I’ll take care of everything,” he insisted. “I’ll just need your… well, your um… sample.” 
Riley chuckled when Liam started to get flustered. “Alright, if it’ll make you happy, and all I have to do is pee in a cup, then let’s give it a try.” 
Liam grinned and leaned in, planting a quick kiss on Riley’s lips. “Excellent!”
“I guess Kermit was right, it’s not easy being green.” Riley said, shaking her head. 
Liam made his way to a nearby pond in search of the perfect frog. His eyes roamed the banks in search of his test subject. “If I were a frog, where would I be?” 
Finally, he noticed a slight movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see a frog seated on a nearby rock. “Perfect.” He stalked toward his prey, making sure to stay as quiet as possible. 
Liam was so laser focused that he didn’t notice Drake coming up behind him, curiously observing the actions of his best friend. “Li, what the fuck are you doing?” 
Drake’s words startled Liam and before he had time to catch himself, he tumbled over into the pond as the frog lept away. Drake cackled as the King of Cordonia sat waist deep in the pond glaring at him. 
“Sorry,” Drake apologized as he reached down, helping Liam out of the water. “But seriously, what are you doing?”
“Riley might be pregnant,” he answered.
Drake furrowed his brow, even more confused now that he had the explanation. “Okay, so you decided to go frog hunting to celebrate?” 
“No, we lost the test,” he responded. When Drake continued to stare at him with a blank expression, Liam sighed and explained the Hogben test just as he had done for Riley earlier. 
“And Brooks agreed to go along with this?” Drake chuckled.
“We would do anything for eachother.” 
Drake rolled his eyes and moved toward the pond. A few moments later he returned with a frog. 
“How did you do that?” Liam marveled. 
“You had your training growing up, I had mine.” He shrugged in reply. 
Liam took the frog from Drake, thanking him for his efforts and began walking back to the house. 
“I’ve gotta see this.” Drake said to himself as he followed Liam. 
Liam entered the house heading toward the stairs, until he saw Riley sitting with Madeleine on the living room couch. When he stepped up to them, he noticed the crestfallen expression on his wife’s face. 
“Love, what’s wrong?” 
“I’m not pregnant,” she responded, her eyes trained on the floor. 
“But how do you know? I’ve got the frog right here.” He held it up to show her. 
Madeleine stood from the couch, glaring in confusion and disgust at the sight in front of her. “When I was in town this morning, I bought some tests. I figured you would need them.” 
“Oh Riley,” Liam moved to Riley, outstretching his arms. 
“Liam,” she held a hand up to stop him from getting any closer. “You’re slimy, and wet… and holding a frog.” 
“Oh, right.” Liam looked down at himself, and the frog in his hands. “I should shower. Care to join me?” He asked slyly. 
“Um… maybe you should handle this one solo,” she cringed. 
Liam handed the frog over to Madeleine, who grabbed it instinctively. He signaled for Riley to follow him, and they made their way up the stairs to the bedroom.
“So you’re not going to pee on a frog?” Drake called out as they exited the room. 
“Ugh,” Madeleine groaned. “None of this would be happening if I were queen.” She turned to Drake, thrusting the frog in his direction. “Make yourself useful and deal with this thing.” She stormed out of the room, mumbling to herself, questioning where things went wrong for her.
Drake looked down at the frog with a grin. “God I love Texas.”  
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Text
All I Want for Christmas Part 1
Series: Cordonian Royal Airlines
Fandom: The Royal Romance
Pairings for series: Various
Pairing for this chapter: Riley x Drake, Liam x Max
Word Count: 2,475
Rating: General
Warnings for this chapter: None
A/N: Listen. I had an idea for the @choicesprompts #rewritechallenge holiday edition. I had the whole scene in my head, but then I decided it needed a little lead-up. Then I decided the lead-up needed a lead-up and then these characters completely just took over, threw my script out the window, and took a whole detour to examine a little budding romance between Liam and Max when this story was supposed to be focused on Drake and Riley (and it still is, mostly).
Long story short, it got a little out of hand so I have split it into two chapters. I'm tagging all of the following:
@choicesprompts rewrite challenge, holiday edition TRR x Untamed Heart (one of my all-time favorite movies). @choicesficwriterscreations holiday prompt: Stuck together in the snow; @choicesdecember2023 Christmas and @choicesholidays: This is the worst Christmas ever.
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“Goodbye, Mrs. Lassiter, have a pleasant stay!” Riley waved with a smile painted on her face as the last passenger debarked. The smile faded from her face as the guests disappeared down the jet bridge and her eyes took in the heavy snowfall blanketing the runway.
Max noticed her despondent expression. “You okay, Ri?”
She turned toward her best friend and coworker with a sigh. “Remind me again why I volunteered to work this flight?”
“Uh…because your sister is getting married in less than two months, and you needed the overtime to pay for the ridiculous over-the-top bachelorette party she wants.”
“Right. Amelia,” Riley nodded to herself, “I’m doing this for her.”
“I think you do too much for her, Ri,” Max clucked at her like a mother hen, “She takes advantage of your generous nature.”
“Oh, Max, it’s fine. You only get married once!”
He arched an eyebrow at her.
“Okay,” a giggle burst out of her, “Hopefully, she only gets married once!”
“Frankly, I’m surprised she found anyone willing to marry her. Is there something wrong with him?”
“Max!” Riley laughed as she thumped him playfully on the shoulder before turning serious. “I just hope we’re able to take off tomorrow as planned.” Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and she had promised her mother she’d be home so she could spend Christmas day with her parents and siblings.
“I wouldn’t count on it.”
Riley turned toward the voice to find the pilot striding toward them. Captain Liam Rys stopped in front of the flight attendants to announce, “There’s a blizzard headed straight for us.”
“Maybe we could just fly out right now—” Riley started hopefully.
“That’s a negative,” Liam cut her off, “that would put me over my flight limit for the day. We’ll proceed to the hotel as planned and hope for the best but be prepared to spend Christmas here.”
“Remind me why you agreed to fly into Estonia, the blizzard capital of the world, two days before Christmas?” Max grumbled.
Liam’s eyes flicked to him in annoyance. “Because of the obscene amount of money Mr. Lassiter was willing to pay for me to do so. You’ll thank me when you get your next paycheck and there’s a substantial bonus on it, on top of the holiday bonus you just received.”
“It’s okay,” Max shrugged with a tinge of disappointment in his tone, “My brother is in Japan anyway.”
Liam’s expression softened a little. “I’m sure he wishes he could spend Christmas with you.”
“Well, he’s flying with Leo, which he loves. I’m just disappointed that we’re almost never assigned to the same flight.”
Liam averted his eyes, unwilling to tell Max that was on purpose. Bertrand had requested that Max not be on the same flight as himself after the younger Beaumont’s enthusiasm became embarrassing for him. Max had gushed to a passenger about his pride in his older sibling, proudly articulating that, “My brother’s the co-pilot. He’s really good at it. He’s almost good enough to be the pilot!”
Liam shuffled his feet awkwardly, then nodded at Max, “Yes, well…. See you at the hotel.”
“You will?” Max’s head whipped around in surprise. Liam had never expressed an interest in seeing him outside of work before.
“Well, he was a little snippy,” Riley observed as Liam disappeared down the sky bridge.
“But did he seem….I don’t know…interested in-“ a flush crawled up his neck and then flared across his face, “Never mind. Of course not.”
Riley’s brow furrowed. “Interested in what?”
“Nothing. Let’s just get this cabin cleaned up so we can go.”
***
Riley awoke the next morning to sheets of snow pouring from the sky, blanketing the city in white as far as she could see from her hotel window. Which wasn’t that far. The snow was coming down too fast and too thick for her to see past the parking lot.
“Shit!” She aggressively pulled the curtains closed and dove back under the covers.
***
“So, what have you two been up to all day?” Liam asked as the four-member flight crew sat down for dinner in the hotel restaurant.
“Well, I slept in, then I called my mom to let her know I wouldn’t be making it home today and probably not tomorrow either. Then I drown my sorrows in a steaming hot bubble bath.” Riley responded as she pulled the menu over to her.
“Yeah, but then we saw a movie,” Max reminded her. Turning to Liam, he rambled excitedly, “This hotel has a theater in it. There was popcorn and everything! And then we took a cooking class! Can you believe that? The hotel chef hosts a class here once a week, but they did an extra class today because it snowed everyone in.”
Liam smiled at Max’s enthusiasm. “That sounds like fun. Now I feel boring. I read all day. Drake, what about you?”
“What about me?” Drake was busy shoveling a complimentary roll into his mouth.
Riley laughed. “Have you not been listening to the conversation? He wants to know what you did to keep busy today, you dork.”
Drake grabbed his water glass and chugged the cold liquid down to cover the fact that he had not heard a word of the conversation since Riley stopped talking. He was still picturing her in that bubble bath. When he sat the glass down, he responded, “I did my usual morning workout. The gym here is excellent. Since I couldn’t go for a run, I hit the heavy bags and then swam a few laps.”
“How many is a few?” Max asked.
“Twenty.” Drake’s eyes flicked to Max as he answered before landing quickly back on Riley’s face searching for any clue that she was impressed, or at least interested in him.
Not that he cared. She was a coworker, and he didn’t date coworkers.
“All before lunch?” She raised an eyebrow.
He wasn’t sure if she found his morning activities impressive or stupid. Her expression gave away nothing. “I find it hard to sit still,” he answered.
Liam scoffed, “You sit in the cockpit for hours at a time.”
“First of all, that’s different. I’m doing plenty as you well know and second of all, that’s why I need more physical movement when I’m on the ground.”
“Makes sense to me!” Max nodded emphatically as the waitress arrived with the menus.
They ordered their food and ate while making companionable chit chat. After dinner, Max suggested they continue the night across the lobby.
The hotel bar was crowded. The four coworkers quickly parted in the crowd. Drake and Liam navigated to a small table in the back and ordered drinks.
“You don’t want to ask her to dance?” Liam nodded across the room to the dance floor where Max and Riley were laughing and twirling to the music.
Drake followed Liam’s eyes and froze as he watched her sway and shimmy to the thump of heavy base. “I don’t dance.”
“I’ve seen you dance.”
“Not well.”
“So, you’re worried about embarrassing yourself in front of her?”
“What? No!” Drake reached for the tumbler of single malt scotch as the server placed it on the table in front of him and took a long pull as his mind spun with ways to shift the conversation away from his nonexistent love life. “What’s going on with you and Max?”
Liam startled so hard that bourbon sloshed over the rim of his glass. He stared at Drake in a blind panic. “What do you mean?”
“I mean….you usually pay no attention to what the flight attendants are doing when we have layovers. Yet you invited everyone to dinner tonight and you’re the one that was watching them dance. I’m pretty sure you’re not into Riley because if you were, you wouldn’t be pushing me toward her. So that leaves Max. Tell me I’m wrong.”
He lowered his glass to the table with a sigh. “It’s that obvious?”
“To me, but I’ve known you for a long time, Li.”
Liam blew out a long breath. “Shit.”
“Why don’t you just tell him you’re interested?”
“No,” Liam shook his head vigorously, “I can’t do that!”
“Why not?”
“So many reasons! Starting with the fact that I’m his boss and that’s a sexual harassment suit waiting to happen.”
“Not if he likes you back,” Drake countered.
“That’s not likely.”
Again, Drake asked, “Why not?”
Liam scoffed as he gestured toward the dance floor. “I mean, look at him! He’s fun and popular and hilariously funny. And look at those dance moves! He’s interesting and cool. What could he possibly see in me?”
“Hey, don’t sell yourself short, man.”
“I’m a stick in the mud and you know it. I was the president of my debate team. He was the lead in his school’s production of Beetle Juice.”
“How do you know- “
“Bertrand told me.”
“So, you’ve been pumping his brother for information?”
“Not the point. He’s amazing and fun and talented and I’m….me.”
“Liam, come on, man, you-“
“When I was twelve, I read law books for fun.”
“Geez, okay. Never mind. You’re definitely going to die alone.”
“Shut up,” Liam laughed, “I know you think I’m being dramatic.“
“You fly planes for a living,” Drake reminded him. “In my experience, a lot of people find that sexy.”
“Yes, well, I know your experience is quite extensive in that area but-“
“Are you calling me a man whore?”
“If the shoe fits….” Liam muttered into his drink.
“Insult me all you want, but it isn’t going to change the fact that you’ve got it bad. You should just tell him.”
“Oh, okay, Mr. I don’t like Riley.”
Fuck. Drake took another long drink. The conversation had come full circle. His eyes drifted across the room to find her again. She was still with Max.
***
Riley led Max off the dance floor and to a table as she flagged down a server for some water. “What’s up with you tonight?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’ve been acting squirely all night and you keep looking around like you’re searching for somebody. What’s that about?”
Max flushed, “Ah….I think I might have a thing for Liam.”
“Wait…what?” Riley shrieked, then clapped her hands over her mouth.
“I don’t know….” Max dropped his eyes to the table. “I mean, you know, he’s hot or whatever.”
“Max!” She slapped his shoulder. “Since when? And why didn’t you tell me?”
He shrugged. “Just recently I’ve started to notice him more, that’s all. He’s always being nice to me and- “
“He’s nice to everyone.”
“I know, but it’s more than that! I can’t explain it, okay? It’s just…the way he looks at me sometimes….”
“I have never seen you act shy before! You hit on that model last week!”
“Oh, him? Yeah, but that was just--”
“That man is an international star, and you had zero qualms asking for his snap.”
“I know, but- “
“And he gave it to you!”
“Sure, but Liam isn’t just a pretty face, Riley! He’s so fucking smart and serious. He’s sophisticated, and there’s just no way he’d be into a goofball like me.”
“Ah, Maxey, anyone with half a brain would be into you.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend.”
“Yes. But also because it’s true.”
“No, it’s not. I’m the general fuckup in my family. Just ask Bertrand. Or my father.”
“Max, you’re not a fuckup!” Riley admonished. “You’re just different from your brother and father, thank God! I’m sorry, I know you love him, but Bertrand is the most boring man alive, and your father is a dick, so please don’t judge yourself by his opinion of you.”
“Bert’s not boring. He just had to grow up fast. My father put a lot of pressure on him and he, unlike me, rose to the challenge. I mean, look at us. He’s a pilot and I’m a flight attendant. Do you remember what my father said when I told him I wanted to be a flight attendant?”
“Yes, but on the bright side, it was the first time he acknowledged your sexual orientation.”
Max snorted, “That’s not funny, Riley.”
“You laughed.”
He bumped her shoulder with his own with an amused shake of his head, “If your point is that my father is a homophobic, controlling, abusive asshole whose opinion should mean nothing to me or anyone else with a lick of self-respect, then point taken.” He lifted his glass to her.
She lifted hers and tapped it into his with a grin. “My work here is done. Now go over there and ask him to shoot darts or something.”
***
“All right, well, this has been fun, but I’m going up to bed now.” Liam pushed away from the table and stood up, stretching as he did so.
“You really are a stick in the mud,” Drake laughed as the server cleared their table and asked if he could get them anything else. “Yeah, an unopened bottle of what we’ve been drinking tonight.”
Liam turned to go but froze as a voice that sent heat shocking through him spoke, “Hey…Liam….you wanna…go play darts or something?”
He turned to find Max smiling at him. Trying to push down the rising panic in his throat, his eyes flicked to Drake, who just gave him an amused smile, then back to Max, who looked uncharacteristically nervous. “Uh…. sure.”
“Great!” Relief washed across Max’s features. Then he remembered himself and begrudgingly turned to include Drake in the invitation. “Would you like to join us?”
“Nah, I’m good. You two go ahead. I’ve got a bottle of top-shelf whiskey, and this hotel has steak on their room service menu. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay then, goodnight and Merry Christmas,” Liam didn’t meet Drake’s eyes as he waved bye and then followed Max to the dart boards lined up against the far wall.
Drake chuckled to himself as he took the bottle from the server and thrust a handful of bills at him. He started for the door, then thought better of it and backtracked to the bar, reaching across and grabbing a clean tumbler to take to his room with him.
He had to dodge a bunch of drunk people on his way back, causing him to veer off course until he was damn near on the other side of the room.
It wasn’t so much that he saw her as he felt her presence. His head lifted and his eyes somehow went straight to her despite the dozen or so people between him and the table she was seated at. Without making a conscious decision, his body angled in her direction, and he made his way over to her, reminding himself the whole way that he didn’t get involved with coworkers.
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liaromancewriter · 3 months
Text
New Year Wishes
Premise: New Year’s Day is a special time for making wishes that come true.
Book: Open Heart (post series) Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: Teen. Fluff. Words: 1,435
A/N: Submission for @choicesjanuary2024 Day 1 writing exercise prompt; for @choicesholidays New Year and @choicesficwriterscreations holiday event. I'm using @choicesflashfics week 66, prompt 1.
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Part 1: The Legend
The first snowflake fell, and with it, a new tradition began. Inside the mansion by the sea, Christmas decorations hung across the mantel. The star above the tree in the corner twinkled when the weak rays of a winter sun briefly shone through the window panes.
It was the first day of a new year, and the air was full of possibilities, like magic on a moonlit night. Flames crackled in the fireplace, spreading its warmth toward the family of four sitting by the hearth.
Four-year-old Cassie Valentine rubbed her sleepy eyes as she cuddled on her mother’s lap, content with the familiar scent and feel of her mom’s arms around her. When she heard a loud yawn, she squinted at her twin brother Max, who was similarly nestled against their father’s chest.
His blond hair was messy, flopping over his forehead; his face was practically hidden in their dad’s big arms. One green eye popped open as if sensing her gaze, and he smiled sleepily at her.
The twins protested when their parents removed them from their comfortable position and onto the shaggy rug in front of the fireplace. Cassie leaned into Max’s side, curling her legs beneath her, and yawned widely. She rested her face on her brother’s shoulder and closed her eyes.
She wasn’t sure why her parents had woken them up so early or carried them down to the family room. It wasn’t Christmas morning. She knew because Santa had already brought her and Max presents last week.
“Cass honey, wake up,” Daddy said gently, lifting her head and brushing his hand down her hair. “Your mom and I have a surprise for the two of you.”
The word ‘surprise’ made Max perk up and sit straight in attention.
“Do you know what today is?” Mommy asked, her eyes crinkled around the corners as she smiled.
They shook their heads, and she continued. “It’s New Year’s Day. Legend has it that if you make a wish, write it on a piece of paper and throw it into the fire, it will come true. Isn’t that right, Robert?”
“My old nanny told me it was so.” Cassie saw her father smile in a dreamy way she didn’t quite recognize. “And she was right. When I was your age, I wished for a life full of adventure. Then, one day, many years later, your mother spilled her drink on me. I haven’t been bored since.”
“Robert!” Mommy gasped in shock before throwing her head back in laughter and then leaning in to kiss him on the lips.
Cassie giggled, and Max groaned, making gagging sounds.
“Six years of adventure, my love,” Mommy said softly, resting her head on Daddy’s forehead. “Every day, I fall in love with every little thing that you do.”
Cassie watched her parents gaze into each other’s eyes and thought there must be something to this wish legend. And if Daddy was right, she was definitely wishing for a puppy.
Part 2: The Wish
Many years later, in an elegant condo overlooking Boston’s waterfront, Ethan Ramsey propped himself up on one elbow and leaned over his wife. He ran his finger down her cheek and brushed aside a wisp of hair that fell over her face.
“Time to wake up, love,” he murmured, watching as Cassie’s eyes drifted open.
The fogginess gradually disappeared, dreams faded and reality intruded.
“What time is it?” she asked, yawning.
“Almost eight,” he said, his lips tracing the slope of her shoulder.
The strap of her nightgown slid down her arm, almost baring her breast, and he peppered kisses along her exposed collarbone.
“We don’t have time for you to seduce me,” she protested, even as a moan escaped her lips when his hands eased the bodice down to expose her breasts to his heated gaze and pushed the gown lower.
“I’ll be quick,” he said, covering her body with his and nudging her thighs apart with his knee.
Ethan snagged her bottom lip between his teeth and nipped it before slanting his lips over hers. He’d just started to kiss his way down her body when he heard the sound of running feet.
Ethan barely had time to throw the covers on top of Cassie’s naked body when the bedroom door slammed open.
“It’s Wish Day! It’s Wish Day!”
Their five-year-old twin daughters, Sophie and Eloise, rushed in, singing the words excitedly at the top of their lungs.
“Daddy, you’re not wearing a shirt!” Sophie giggled.
“Girls, what have we said about knocking?” Ethan swung his legs off the bed to sit up and glared at them over his shoulder.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Cassie wriggle under the covers and then ease her back up against the headboard, the silky straps of her nightgown back in place.
“Knock first, wait for an answer and then enter,” they parroted the oft-repeated words while gazing innocently at him.
“And did you do that now?” Cassie asked, lips twisting in a half-smile as her eyes met Ethan’s exasperated expression.
“We forgot,” they said with a pout.
They launched themselves on the bed before Ethan could scold them further and started jumping up and down.
“B’sides, it’s Wish Day, Daddy,” Eloise giggled as she crashed into her sister. “It’s tra…trad…,” she stumbled over the words, “tratidition.”
“Tradition,” Ethan corrected automatically, padding into the walk-in closet.
He thought privately that his daughters were just as stubborn about celebrating traditions as their mother.
“Mommy, get up. We’ve been waiting forever to make our New Year wishes!” Sophie’s laughter mingled with her sister’s as they both bounced higher.
“Not too high, girls,” Cassie called out worriedly. “Ethan?”
Ethan returned to the bedroom, tugging a tee shirt over his head and down. He grabbed Eloise mid-bounce and then Sophie, holding each girl under his arms as if carrying a football.
They giggled when he adjusted his stance to accommodate their weight, jostling them in the process.
Cassie shook her head at their antics and shoved aside the covers to climb off the bed. She reached for the robe folded on the ottoman at the foot of the bed, and his eyes locked on the top of her breasts framed enticingly between the vee of her gown’s neckline.
She caught his stare and arched one brow. “To be continued tonight?”
After a quick glance at their daughters, now preoccupied with whispering to each other, he smirked.
“I’ll get them settled while you freshen up. Don’t take too long or…,” Ethan grinned lasciviously, scanning her from chest to crotch, “…else.”
Almost twenty minutes later, the four of them settled in front of the fireplace. Ethan wrapped one arm around Cassie’s shoulder while hers slid around his waist. The twins were nestled between them, their tiny bodies practically vibrating with excitement.
“Ready to make your New Year wish?” Cassie asked.
Eloise looked questioningly at her sister. Sophie nodded in confirmation. They both turned around and stared at their parents. Ethan noted their thoughtful expression and wondered what that was about.
“If we both make the same wish, does it come true twice?” Eloise asked.
“We want a dog,” Sophie piped in.
Ethan grinned when Cassie muttered, “Get in line” under her breath.
He knew a puppy had been on her wish list for years. In fact, if he recalled the tale correctly, it was her first wish when Robert and Olivia started the annual New Year wishes tradition.
“Why don’t you send the wish into the fireplace? You never know when the universe will grant your wish,” he added, keeping his face neutral when Cassie hissed, “Hogwash!”
“It might take years,” Eloise said, angling her head sideways as if lost in thought.
“Just like it took forever and ever for Grandpa Robbie to get his wish when he met Grandma Livvy,” Sophie added excitedly. “El, we’re getting a dog for sure!”
“And another tradition continues,” Cassie laughed as the girls babbled excitedly while scribbling their wishes on paper.
Ethan rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Times like this, they’re more Valentine than Ramsey.”
“I disagree,” Cassie snorted, laughter in her eyes. “But then I’m biased since I fell in love with a Ramsey.”
Ethan gently grasped her chin and lifted her face to gaze into her eyes. His mouth lowered and captured her lips in a tender, heart-wrenching kiss, losing himself in the magic of the moment.
Eloise and Sophie stopped writing to watch their parents kissing, shared a furtive glance and silently giggled. Forget the dog. Maybe they would get a brother instead.
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All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @lucy-268 @jerzwriter @lady-calypso @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction
Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics
Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @youlookappropriate @zealouscanonindeer
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angelasscribbles · 2 months
Text
Daylight
Series: None, this is a one-shot and you can find those here.
Fandom: The Royal Romance
Pairing: Riley x Readers Choice
Rating: MA
Warnings for this chapter: Infidelity. Angst.
Word Count: 547
A/N: This is for the @choicesprompts Song Rewrite Challenge. My song is Daylight by David Kushner. I heard this song and I knew I had to write something with it! I have left it up to the reader which man is which.
My other stuff: Master List.
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I dress hurriedly in the darkening of my room, not bothering to turn on a light as the sun dips below the horizon. I’m late because I almost didn’t go. But my position rather requires it so here I am.
I turn and look back at my rumpled bed. Still warm from earlier. Her scent still lingers in the air. I shake my head and force myself to step through the doorway.
Another interminable ball. I’m going because I must. But she will be there.
As I leave my room and stride down the hall, I tell myself that it won’t matter. I’ll ignore her. It won’t happen again.
But I know it’s a lie.
I can't even look my best friend in the eye anymore. He’s like a brother to me, he’s the one person who has always been there for me. And I’m sleeping with his wife.
Guilt claws through me as I enter the room and he greets me as he always does. Genuinely, warmly. He trusts me and that trust sends shame twisting through my chest.
Every time I swear it's the last time but then I see her, and I'm lost again. Drowning in desire and despair.
I've tried to end it. I have fought myself so long and so hard. I’m exhausted, defeated. Then there she is. It always ends the same. Me looking down at her. Her looking up at me with those bright eyes, total surrender written all over her face.
I hate myself for what I’m doing to him. To her. She drowns in guilt too, yet it doesn’t end.
I’ve tried to move on but there is no one else. Not for me. And not for him.
I slap my best friend on the back, avoiding eye contact as I struggle not to look for her….and fail.
She smiles that smile that I know is only for me and all my resistance falls away. I smile back. This thing between us. I love it and I hate it at the same time.
I love her. I hate myself.
I beg God for forgiveness every night. But I know I would resist it if an out was actually presented to me. I don’t want out. Not really.
I just want her. But not like this. I’d ask her to leave him, but I know she won’t. And I don’t really want her to. Because as fucked up as it sounds, we both love him. Which is why he can never know. Which is why it has to stop.
But as I take her in my arms on the dance floor, I know it will never stop. Because I’m weak when it comes to her.
This is how I know God has forsaken me. I love them both, but to give one what they need is to betray the other. So I persist in this state of sin from which I can never atone.
I dip her low on the dancefloor and whisper in her ear, “It’s over.”
She agrees.
But we both know it’s only a matter of time until the next time. I sigh as I pull her back up, hug her close to my body, and let myself believe the lie, just for tonight.
It’s over.
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