#@choicesjanuary2024

[tessa-liam]

Turning the Page  

Now and Then

 - Chapter 9-

Choices, The Royal Romance, AU 

Series Premise: As Riley Brooks journeys through life as a single parent in New York City, an epiphany strikes as she contemplates the future for herself and her two-year-old son. 

Turning the Page Series Masterlist 

Main Pairing: Liam Rys x F!OC Riley Brooks 

All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except William Brooks (Rys) and Matteo Magro, who belongs to this series. 

Category: On-going series, contains angst/fluff/depression. Cross-over fic with Choices, Perfect Match. 

Rating: M🔞Warnings - Series will contain crude language, NSFW material – not Beta’d - please excuse all errors. 

Words: 2498

Now and Then – 9 

Chapter Summary: Riley and William arrive in Cordonia 

Title & Music Inspiration: 

Now and Then, The Beatles                                       

When You Love Someone, Gretchen Peters, Bryan Adams 

Wherever You Will Go, The Calling 

A/N1: In this alternate universe, after King Constantine orchestrates two individual scandals to humiliate and entrap Riley Brooks and Olivia Nevrakis in shame, Madeleine Amaranth secures her position as the Queen of Cordonia. Riley, as the King’s mistress and Olivia, in self-imposed exile. Tariq is never found.  

A/N2: My submission for @choicesflashfics, Week#67, prompt #1 - “Nothing could ever change how I feel about you.” 

A/N3: My submission for @choicesjanuary2024, prompt Day 25 - ‘Remembrance’ #choices monthly challenge @lilyoffandoms #choicesjanuary2024 

A/N4: Damien Nazario has been assigned as William’s personal bodyguard. 

In Flight, Cordonian Royal Jet, above the Mediterranean Sea 

Looking out over the vast expanse of water below her, and under the clear blue skies above the Mediterranean Sea, no clouds were in sight ... not a white cloud, nor a black cloud. 

Riley gazed out the large passenger window of the private jet, in solace, with her memories. Everything felt calm; almost too calm. The flight from New York to Cordonia was eight hours in duration, and even though they left early in the morning, they would not arrive at the palace until late in the evening with the change in time zones. 

Trying to and not getting any rest, her thoughts returned to the events over the holidays.

...Remembering when Liam arrived at her door, in New York on Christmas Eve, a short week ago. The expression of elation on his face as she opened the door for him... 

[‘Hello, my love,’ he tenderly smiled; He was standing there with an exquisite bouquet of long-stemmed red roses, as uniformed delivery drivers from the toy store waited patiently at a distance behind him, as the Royal guard performed a security check.��

Liam stepped over the threshold, leaning down to draw her in for a kiss on the cheek, as she accepted his gift. ‘Oh Li, these are gorgeous; thank you so much.’ 

At Bastien’s prompt, the delivery people entered the brownstone with prewrapped gifts and placed them under the Christmas tree, also filling the extra space in the living room very quickly. 

Chuckling, Riley watched as Liam thanked them with a generous tip, as he closed the door after them. 

“Our son will be so thrilled at what Santa brought him; wait till he wakes up tomorrow.”  

Liam laughed, moving quickly to put his arm around her, pulling her to his side. “Who says all these gifts are just for him? Hmmm?” Riley turned her head towards him, as Liam bent to capture her lips in a passion-fueled kiss. 

“Ah yes, your gift is right here.” Liam slipped his hand inside his coat to reveal a small box, wrapped in gold with a red ribbon. “This is for you.”} 

Riley breathed out, shaking her head. 

...Remembering wanting him so badly that evening ...as he kissed her forehead to say ‘good night’ before turning to the guest room; Leaving her feeling so confused, once again. 

...Remembering how excited LiLi was when he saw his father again Christmas morning ... and the look of pure joy in Liam’s expression as he watched his son blissfully playing with his new toys. 

...Remembering the look of adoration between Liam and his son; a private and sacred bond established between the two ... a bond only meant for them. 

Riley looked down at her phone and smiled fondly at the picture of William. He was proudly standing beside his gingerbread house gift for Liam, alongside Daniel and Matteo, to smile at the camera. Riley marveled at how unequivocally her son loved his father, so quickly. As if two loose puzzle pieces finally clicked into place. There was never a doubt in her mind that William needed to be wherever his father was. The connection between father and son was undeniable. 

...and with those thoughts, she agreed to return to Cordonia.  

And now, she found herself on the Royal jet headed back, leaving behind her New York world for the place that shattered her ‘happily ever after,’ again. 

Liam, being the new, ever-doting father was pointing out to his son the shores of Cordonia through the window. She saw the look of marvel in Liam’s eyes, as he watched his son’s reaction to seeing Cordonia for the very first time. They were sitting in seats across the aisle from her as she glanced over. 

Catching Riley’s eye, Liam responded with a wink and a smile. 

"Welcome home, love." 

Riley smiled in return, as her heart skipped a beat. 

Home... 

It had been a while since she had felt this way about Cordonia. Another lifetime; so much has changed, and yet remained the same. 

***

Damien Nazario, the Interpol agent who was now permanently assigned to be William Rys's personal bodyguard, was reviewing the Crown prince's dossier, and his duties to the Cordonian crown, his new employer. Bastien took a seat beside the young agent to answer any questions he may have, as head of the Royal guard, at the rear of the plane's cabin. 

"So, Damien, any questions for me?" 

"No, sir. I believe I have a handle on the situation.” 

"Good, because you are now the official head of the security detail for Prince William, the future king of Cordonia." 

"Understood, sir.” Damien was well aware of the complexity of a constitutional monarchy. 

"Now, there's one more thing I need to discuss with you,” Bastien eyed the young agent. 

"Yes, sir?" 

"Madeleine Amaranth, the former queen of Cordonia. I have forwarded her updated dossier to you." 

"Yes, I've read it through.” Damien paused, waiting for more information. 

"Good, because she has expressed malicious intent towards Prince William and Lady Riley, should they return to Cordonia." 

"Understood. I'll ensure her movements are tracked and reported inside and out of the country, sir." 

"Thank you, Damien.” 

"My pleasure, sir.” 

Bastien, looking pleased, leaned back in his chair, checking the time on his watch, as he felt the plane begin its descent. 

Cordonia, Capital 

The jet touched down smoothly on the tarmac, as the engines powered down. The cabin door opened, and the stairs were lowered. 

Riley could feel the warm breeze blow past her as she stepped off the plane. 

Taking a deep breath, Riley looked around. The air was different here. It was fresh and clean. She closed her eyes and let the wind brush her cheeks. 

Liam followed, with William sleeping in his arms.  

"Is everything alright, love?" Liam’s brows were raised in concern, noticing her hesitation. 

"Yes, I'm just taking it all in." Riley, looked down, unable to keep eye contact. 

"Are you sure, Riley? You've been very quiet throughout the entire flight home." 

"I'm fine, Liam. It is just a lot to process. I'm just a little overwhelmed." 

"All right, I understand. Let us get to the palace, so you and William can get settled and rest ... okay?" 

"Yes, thank you, Liam." 

Liam glanced over at Riley with concern as he personally buckled his son into the car seat. It was quite easy for him to see and feel the apprehension in her mood. She could not hide her emotions from him as well as she always thought she could.

Riley had remained noticeably quiet during the ride to the palace as well, looking out at the passing countryside. Liam could not help but wonder if she was having second thoughts about returning to Cordonia, and/or to him. 

As they pulled up to the palace gates, Liam looked over at Riley, noticing a small smile on her face. 

"What is it, love?" Liam spoke softly, reaching for her hand. 

Riley returned his touch with a squeeze. "This place...it's beautiful." 

"Thank you, that, it is. Welcome home." 

“William will be so excited when he wakes up.” Riley glanced at a still sleeping William as the SUV slowed to a stop. 

"I can't begin to tell you how much it means to me.... to have you both here." Liam confessed. 

"You're welcome, Liam. It's the least I can do."  

Liam's heart sank at her words. He hated the distance between them. He wanted to take her in his arms and make everything right, but, for right now, he knew that was not the best strategy. 

He had to accept that things had changed, and their relationship was different now. He had to be patient and give Riley the space she needed. 

But he also had to make her see how important she was to him. He had to show her how much he had missed her ... that he wanted a future with her and William in Cordonia. 

As the SUV door opened for her, Riley felt a sense of Deja vu. This was where she had started her journey with Liam in Cordonia all those years ago. And now, here she was, back again. 

"Do you want me to take you and William to the guest wing, or do you want to stay in my chambers?" 

"I would like to stay with you, if that's okay." 

"Of course, Riley. I would love that." 

It was surreal for Riley as she walked the pristine palace halls towards the Royal Chambers. Liam carried William, who was fast asleep in his arms beside her. 

 The memories of the past times she was here flooded her mind and her heart ached as she pushed the painful memories aside. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. 

As they reached the large double doors of the entrance to the Royal east wing, the guards opened the doors for Liam and Riley to enter. 

Riley stepped inside; the same chambers where she had spent so much time before. The familiar scent of Liam's cologne filled the air, sending a wave of longing for a past time through her mind. 

Walking into her room ... it was exactly as she remembered it. Everything was in its place, from the elegant chandelier hanging above the bed, to the intricate paintings adorning the walls. 

Riley took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of the bed. She looked around the room, taking in every detail. 

 She felt a pang of sadness as she remembered those past times. 

After tucking William into his bed in the adjacent room, Liam came in and sat down next to her. He gently placed his hand on hers, and she looked up at him, their eyes meeting. 

"What are you thinking about Riley?"  

"I'm okay, Liam. I was just thinking about how much things have changed since I was here last." 

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and held her close. "I know it's a lot, but I'm here for you, and I'll help you in any way I can," Liam whispered. 

"Thank you, Liam." 

He pulled away and cupped her face in his hands, staring into her eyes intently. "You're welcome, Riley. Always. Nothing could ever change how I feel about you.” 

He moved in to press his lips to hers, and she melted into his kiss. 

It was soft and gentle, and full of longing. 

He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers, breathing heavily. "God, Riley, I've missed you." 

"I've missed you, Li." 

He leaned down and kissed her again, deeper this time. 

His tongue swept across her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth to him. 

Their tongues tangled together in a dance that was familiar and yet new. 

They were no longer the same people they were when they had last been together. They were both older and wiser, and the passion between them burned even brighter. 

Riley pulled away and put her hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating beneath her palm. 

"Liam, I..." 

"Shhh." 

He placed a finger over her lips. "Don't say anything, Riley. Just feel." 

His lips found hers again, and the world disappeared. There was nothing but the two of them, lost in each other. 

She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

She moaned into his mouth as he slid his hands down her back and pulled her closer. 

He broke the kiss and buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent. 

"Riley," he breathed. "God, I want you so much."

“Liam, I ...” 

Liam pulled back and looked into her eyes, “stay with me tonight.” 

📌All fics & edits: @ao719 @txemrn @queenmiarys @sfb123 @twinkleallnight @alj4890 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @harleybeaumont @busywoman @karahalloway @kingliam2019 @imjusthereforliam @lovingchoices14 @kyra75 @tinkie1973 @emkay512 @malblk21 @kristinamae093 @charlotteg234

📌Liam x Riley, OC: @emersyn-in-cordonia @mainstreetreader @belencha77 @walkerdrakewalker @iluaaa @mysticalfangirl @queenwalton @bascmve01 @umccall71 @choicesfrog @amandablink @ownworldresident

📌Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @choicesflashfics @choicesjanuary2024

[lilyoffandoms]

Tyril Starfury

For Day 11 of the @choicesjanuary2024 challenge (Theme Prompt: Starlight)

My Art Ish Thing Tag: @storyofmychoices

[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 16 - Snakes in the Garden

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

"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.

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."

"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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(Less Than) Noble Intentions only (let me know if you want to be added!)

@thetruthisthatiloveyou @anakjaybon-blog

[choicesjanuary2024]

MASTERLIST || WELCOME || PROMPTS || RULES || HOST

Listed in alphabetical order by artist name. If I missed adding one on this list, or missed reblogging, please let me know.

@aallotarenunelma

Chronicles of a Crimson Summer 11 (ID Fic & Edit, Cas x MC)

Songs that describe my pairings (ID & It Lives Songs)

@dutifullynuttywitch

Starlit night (WtD Fic, Troy x MC)

@inlocusmads

chosen family (CoP Fic, Trystan)

hello, goodbye ~ jimmy rose (CoP Fic, Jimmy)

laplace’s angel (CoP Fic, Trystan x MC)

meeting at a crosswalk (CoP Fic, Trystan x MC)

slam poetry (MAH Fic, Stevie x MC)

@jerzwriter

A Different Fate - Final Chapter (OPH Fic, Ethan x MC)

A Little Mess (OPH Edit, Tobias x MC)

A New Perspective (OPH Fic, Tobias x MC)

A Tipsy Winter Tale (CoP Fic, Trystan x MC)

Clucking Amazing (OPH Edit, Ethan x MC)

Different Destinations (OPH Fic, Tobias x MC)

If the hat fits… (CoP Fic & Art Commission, Trystan x MC)

It Always Starts Somewhere…. (CoP Fic, Trystan x MC)

Pen-sive (OPH Fic, Ethan x MC)

Pietro & Azul (OPH Fic, Tobias x MC)

Stress Reduction (OPH Fic, Tobias x MC)

The Morning (WtD Fic, Eli x MC)

Trystan’s 2023 Holiday Recap (CoP Edit, Trystan x MC)

Twenty-Five (WTD Fic, Troy & MC)

@ladylamrian

A Prince for the Holidays (Blades Fic, Aerin x MC)

His Barbie, Her Ken (Nightbound Fic, Nik x MC)

Loyal to be Royal (Nightbound Fic, Nik x MC, Garrus x MC)

@liaromancewriter

Daddy’s Girl (OPH Fic, Ethan x MC)

Making It Work (OPH Edit, Ethan x MC)

Miami Nights: Before and After (OPH Edit, Ethan x MC)

New Year Wishes (OPH Fic, Ethan x MC)

Whatever It Takes (OPH Edit, Ethan x MC)

@lilyoffandoms

Alex as the Winter Princess (Nightbound Art, MC)

Aerin x Raine (Blades Art, Aerin x MC)

Aerin x Raine (Blades Art, Aerin x MC)

Ash Clark (ILITW Art, OC)

Captain Pandrosion Elara (AtV Art, Sol, Meridian, Kepler, MC)

Casey MacTavish (OPH Art, MC)

Coffee Date(s) (CoP Art, Trystan x MC)

Detective Lilah Rose (CoP Art, MC)

Ethan (OPH Art)

Gabriel Rose (CoP Art)

Imtura Tal Kaelen (Blades)

Inspired by Mal x Daenarya (Blades Art, Mal x OC)

Kajsiab (Alpha Art, MC)

Kieran (TCH Art)

Lancelot x Guinevere Silhouette (Guinevere Art, Lancelot x MC)

Leaf, King of Birds (TCH Art)

Lilah Rose (CoP Art, MC)

Luca O'Rinn (ID MC)

Mal Volari (Blades Art)

Marianna Howard (Desire and Decorum Fanart, OC)

Nia Ellarious (Blades Art)

Nora Rose (CoP Art, MC)

Sabastyan Thorne Case File (CoP Art)

Saini Rusanen (ID Art, MC)

Tatum x Aubrey (FA Art, Tatum x MC)

Together We Win (Blades Art, MC)

Trystan (CoP Art)

Tyril Starfury (Blades Art)

Wallace (Blades Art)

@lovealexhunt

Happy New Year (RCD Fic & Art Commission, Thomas x MC)

Helios - Emma’s Arylu (TE Art, Familiar)

#plantlove (OPH Fic, Bryce x OC)

Post Christmas Bliss (RCD Art Commission, Thomas x MC)

Spread Joy #841 (Blades Edit, Mal)

Tuneless Wonders (TE, Fic & Art Commission)

Valax (Blades Art)

@peonyblossom

Hades of House Nightbloom (Blades Art Commission, MC)

I Wasn’t Built For Iceland (AME Fic, Carson x MC)

We’ll Figure It Out (Untamable Fic, Kit x MC)

@stars-are-within-me

In Her Arms (CoP Fic, Vasili, Juliana)

The Skies (Blades Fic, Imtura, Ventra)

@tess-liam

Turning the Page (TRR Fic, Liam x OC)

@thosehallowedhalls

A 2AM Christmas Tree Farm [1/2] (CoP Fic, Trystan x MC)

Babysitting the Demonic Duo (CoP Fic, Trystan x MC)

Home without - Part One (CoP Fic, Trystan x MC)

Progression (CoP Fic, Trystan x MC)

Tabloids, or a story in 5 headlines (CoP Fic, Trystan x Emma)

[dutifullynuttywitch]

Starlit night

Wake the Dead 

Art by the wonderful @lilyoffandoms

Pairing: Troy Hassan x Eva Archer (f!mc)  

Rating: Teen (fluff) 

@choicesjanuary2024 prompt: Aurora (day 8)

Word count: 1,187 

Summary:  Several years before the events in Wake the Dead, Troy surprises Eva with a late-night outing within the confines of the Tower. 

A/N: In this story Eva is 17, in her last year at school. Troy is about 2 years older and just recently started working at the supply depot. 

Eva tosses and turns around on her lumpy mattress, sleep elusive. She had gotten expelled. Again. Gotten into a fight with her sister over it. Again.  

“Eva, for crying out loud, it’s the second time this month! You have got to be more careful. You know how things are here.” 

“But Brynn, I don’t get why we can’t even talk about how things were, before. Maybe if we knew more, we could make this place a bit better for everyone.” 

Brynn sighs “I know you mean well, lil sis, but the leaders of the Tower are clear about the rules, whether we agree with them or not. And trust me, we don’t want to get kicked out into the wilderness.” 

She sighs, trying to will herself to sleep. Maybe she should hold her tongue more, but it infuriates her that the Tower leaders only care about teaching them the basics for survival – any form of critical thinking frowned upon, worse, punished. 

Toc. Toc.  

A knock on the door shakes her from her reverie. She opens a crack to find a grinning Troy. 

“What the hell, Troy? It’s the middle of the night!” She whispers, glancing back to make sure Brynn hasn’t stirred. 

“You don’t say! Come on, I have something to show you. You’re gonna like it.” He winks. 

“I’m in enough trouble as it is. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” 

“Afraid not, it’s kind of a middle of the night thing.” He grins wider. “And, we’ve gotta go now if we don’t want to get caught. So, what’dya say, Archer, up for a little adventure?” 

She frowns at him, but her curiosity is piqued.  

“Wait a sec.” 

She shuts the door on his pleased face and quickly pulls on a sweater, sweatpants and boots. She grabs a flashlight and sneaks out into the dark hallway, glancing one last time at Brynn’s sleeping form.  

She’s so gonna kill me. 

As soon as she shuts the door, Troy takes her hand, leading them down several service hallways then up a series of rickety fire exit stairs. They duck into the shadows a few times to avoid patrolling guards. 

“So where exactly are you taking me?” She whispers as they continue to climb ever higher. 

“It’s a surprise.” 

“Troy.”  

“We’re almost there!” He winks. 

Sure enough, a few minutes later he stops them in front of a steel door high up one of the Tower’s outer walls. He pulls out a key from his pocket and unlocks, pushing it open with a flourish. 

They enter a small room stacked with dusty cases filled with weapons, munitions and other military equipment. At the far end, a small balcony overlooks the forest surrounding the Tower.

“Troy, what is this place?” 

“An ammunitions depot. They have a bunch of these scattered around the tower to defend against drones. And in case of security breaches from inside the tower, I wager… Only Blackstock’s most loyal have access keys.” 

“Look at you, the ultimate insider!” Eva smirks at her friend, punching him lightly on the shoulder. 

“Nah, I just know people who know people. The surprise is over here. Come, take a look.” Troy leads her towards the exposed balcony. 

She gasps as she takes in the scene.  

The balcony is perched high above the ground, providing a bird’s eye view of the hills and valleys surrounding the Tower.  

She looks out at the snow-covered mountains and valleys. Millions of twinkling stars lighting the night.  

Her breath catches as she notices bright shimmering lights in hues of green, blue and purple, dancing across the sky. 

“It’s beautiful.” She whispers, stunned. 

“Yeah. They call them northern lights. I read about them in some magazine. I was telling Sam and the guys about them, and she told me she’d seen these strange lights while out patrolling the past few nights. Convinced her to lend me the key to this place. It’s pretty amazing, I never thought we’d see them so far south.” 

“Isn’t Sam that brunette guard you’ve been flirting with?” Eva smirks, teasing. “You charmed her into lending you the keys?” 

“What can I say, I’m irresistible.” Troy grins, puffing out his chest.  

“If you say so, Hassan.” She smirks.

Eva looks out at the magical scenery, captivated. The aurora dance in the skies in an ethereal, pulsating rhythm, reflected on the white blanket of snow covering the fields and mountains.  

She shivers a little as a cold gust buffets their small balcony. Troy pulls out a blanket from his bag. He sits down on the ledge and beckons her over, wrapping them both snuggly.  

“You came prepared.” 

He shrugs “Figured it’d get cold out here.” 

They sit in companionable silence for a while, in awe at the delicate dancing ribbons of light. Relishing in the peace and quiet of the outside world. 

“One day, Troy, I’m going to see all this from outside the Tower. There’s got to be something better out there for us...” 

“I’m quite alright right here, thank you very much.” 

“For someone who spends an inordinate amount of time reading up on old world curio, you’re not even a little interested in seeing and experiencing it for yourself?” 

“Oh, believe me, I am. If it weren’t for the flesh eating freaks I’d be long gone… but let’s face it, I’m too good looking to die.” He flashes her one of his trademark grins. 

She chuckles, a twinkle in her eyes. 

“So, speaking of good looks, why d’ya invite little old me when you could be making out with the lovely Sam?” Eva asks him teasingly. 

“First of all, I don’t need any magical dancing lights to up my game with the ladies.”  

She scoffs.  

“Second, I heard you got expelled. I swear Blackstock’s goons are becoming unbearable. And it’s not just the school. It's harder and harder to get my hands on contraband, they’re really cracking down on everyone.” He sighs. “Anyway, I just figured you could use a friend and some cheering up.” 

“Thanks Troy, this is just about the nicest thing someone’s done for me.”  

She kisses him on the cheek before laying her head on his shoulder, gazing out to the skies once more. 

Troy hopes the darkness hides his blush.  

He wraps an arm around Eva, pulling her closer as they both take in the mesmerizing display. 

Maybe one day he’ll be brave enough to tell her how he feels. 

But tonight, he’s content he was able to brighten her night a little. 

[thosehallowedhalls]

A Memory

I might have yelped a little* when I opened my DMs and saw this absolutely GORGEOUS piece by the bafflingly talented @oh-so-youre-a-nerd (seriously, every time I see one of your pieces, I wonder how are you even real).

When @choicesjanuary2024 ended, @lilyoffandoms (who happens to be a gift of a human being) told me I had won a commission with Thia. I immediately knew what I wanted drawn: the breakup scene in this story, which feels a lot more heartbreaking now that I have this insanely beautiful art to accompany it.

Thank you, Thia and Lily!! You've both made me very happy.

*And by a little, I mean loud enough to scare my cat.

[jerzwriter]

If the cap fits...

I don't care where you live; you must have heard me scream when I opened this treasure from @/artbyainna this morning! Agh! Look at my babies! I already had a commission planned for them when I created Trystan's Holiday Recap, where we learned about Carolina's gift. It was @lilyoffandoms who said, "I need the art of this, STAT!" and I wrote Ainna and said, "We need to make an adjustment." lol I hope the CoP fans out there love this half as much as I do, because that would be a whole lot. There's a little drabble below to accompany this.

Book: Crimes of Passion Pairing: Trystan Thorne x Carolina Rose (F!MC) Words: 740 Rating: Teen Summary: Carolina has a little surprise for her prince, but how will he take it?

@choicesjanuary2024 - Day 12 - Transformation (because Trystan has certainly undergone one.)

Crimes of Passion Masterlist | My Main Masterlist

It was early evening, the sun was just beginning to set, and Trystan was anxious to put the work day behind him. He was shoving folders into his desk and about to lock the drawers when Carolina sauntered in. If there was one thing that could distract him, no matter what he was doing, she was it. His eyes lingered over her with every step, the puppy-dog look on his face so unbecoming for a Drakovian royal, but there was no use fighting it; he had long since given in. But there was something different about her today. She appeared less tense, relaxed even. The gleam in her eye and the devious little smile tugging at her lips told him one thing for sure: she was up to something.

She plopped down on the chair before him, crossing her legs and placing a brown paper shopping bag on the desk before meeting his eyes with a playful yet seductive stare. Trystan couldn't keep a straight face any longer.

“All right, what are you up to?”

“Me,” she responded coyly, holding her hands in mock horror. “What on earth suggests that I’m up to something, Detective Thorne?”

“That smile, that tone, that deliciously playful look in your eyes... what are you doing, Carolina Rose?”

“Well,” she pulled the bag to her lap. “I may have gotten you an early Christmas present.”

Trystan’s face fell. “No. You can’t give me anything yet! I don't have anything to give you.”

“I don’t need anything,” she smiled. “Besides, I know I’m helpless at stopping you from spoiling me as the month progresses.”

“You’re learning,” he smirked. “So, what’s in the bag?”

She gleefully stuck her hand in and held out a black baseball cap... not the dark navy of the Yankee caps he had become so familiar with... and this one had white lettering; he took it in his hand to read.

“Armchair detective... armchair detective? What does this mean?”

With a little giggle, more fitting for a schoolgirl than the hardened detective she had become, Carolina began to explain.

“Have you heard the term armchair quarterback? It means someone who watches football, insisting they know better than the coach on the field. They bark orders at the coach and scream as if they're the coach, all from the comfort of their couch with a bag of Cheetos at their side.”

“I’m familiar with the term, dear,” he replied sarcastically. “But what is an armchair det...” his mouth hung open as realization set in. “Are you saying I’m an armchair detective?”

“Well,” she teased. “You’ve had some success, I’ll give you that, but you are still very much a newb.”

“So... I’m the armchair detective?” he was bordering on insulted, but Carolina just shrugged playfully.

“I mean, if the cap fits....”

“So then, what does that make you?”

“Funny you should ask that,” she grinned, reaching into the bag to retrieve one more item. Flipping her long golden brown hair back, she placed a cap on her head, carefully tucking any loose tendrils within. Trystan leaned closer to see what hers said, and in a matching font, it declared: Detective.

“Detective?” he asked.

“Well, that’s what it says on my tax form.”

Unable to keep a straight face, she doubled over in a fit of giggles.

“I am deeply hurt,” he scolded with the tone of a man who had been destined to be king.

“You know I'm joking, baby. But come on let's take a selfie! Our friends will love this!"

“I think not.”

“Come on! Where is your sense of humor?”

“Oh, I have no problem with the selfie. I don't even have a problem with your pale attempt at humor... but there is no way I am messing up my crowning glory by wearing that cap.”

To drive his point home, he flipped his head back, running his hands through his luxurious locks, as Carolina looked on with amusement. 

“You are such a diva!”

“I am,” he declared proudly, rolling his chair over to hers and pulling her into a tender kiss. “But I’m your diva.”

“And don’t you forget it!”

“Never!” he smiled smugly, pulling his phone from his pocket.

“What are you doing?” Carolina asked.

“Ordering us t-shirts.”

“T-shirts? What kind?”

“His and hers... mine will say Diva... you, my love, are an Armchair Diva.”

“Hey,” she said with a laugh, "if the shirt fits..."

@choicesficwriterscreations

Tagging others separately.

[liaromancewriter]

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

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

[storyofmychoices]

Tuneless Wonders

[Beckett Harrington x Emma Carlyle Masterlist] 

Pairing: Beckett Harrington x Emma Carlyle (F!MC) Book: The Elementalists Word Count: >600 Rating/Warnings: general, no warnings, all the fluff Prompts: @choicesjanuary2024 aurora (borealis); @choicesficwriterscreations

Synopsis: Emma shows Beckett that the tuneless world has magic of its own.

It has been FAR too long since I've commissioned art of these two. So I am very excited to have been able to commission this piece by the ever talented ArtByAinna (IG) to kick off our TE @choicesbookclub

The vibrant hues of the aurora borealis painted the sky in a mesmerizing dance of celestial colors. Beckett and Emma found themselves at a secluded spot, away from the prying eyes of their friends. The ethereal lights shimmered overhead, casting a magical glow upon the landscape.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Emma teased, lacing her fingers with his as she rested her head on his shoulder. “The tuneless world has its own magic.”

Beckett couldn’t help but be captivated by the enchanting display painting the sky. “Wow,” the only word he could manage slipped quietly from his lips, his gaze fixed on the celestial wonder above.

Emma’s eyes sparkled with a blend of awe and admiration. “Nature's magic is unparalleled. Earth has her own set of spells that she blesses us with."

A surge of appreciation for a magic he had never considered before washed over him. Beckett had read of this natural event in books, of course, but he never imagined them quite like this. In his readings, it was simple. It was science, just a bit of chemistry—an interaction of particles, solar wind, and the Earth’s magnetic field—nothing special. Yet, the reality of what he thought nothing of, now, left him breathless.

Emma’s words continued to resonate with him as he stood entranced. He couldn’t deny the magnificent enchantment surrounding them. He slowly breathed in the cold air, letting it fill his lungs, the moment overwhelming him in the best way. As he exhaled, Beckett attempted to let go of the complexities of magical academia he had spent his life mastering, allowing room for this new appreciation for the tuneless wonders he never would have understood without her.

“It’s breathtaking,” he whispered, his words of reverence drifting from his lips in wisps of warmth against the cold air.

Emma’s gaze met his cool, grey eyes, which shimmered with the colors of the heavens. “Perhaps nature’s magic is the truest form. No spells, no textbooks—just the raw, untamed beauty of the world. Maybe that’s where it all started. Maybe this and other examples of Earth’s magic is the origin of all other magick we know.”

“Thank you.” His fingers brushed tenderly across her cheek as he cradled her face.

“For what?” She smiled softly.

“For sharing this with me—” he began, his gaze drifting once more to the beautiful dance above them. "—for convincing me that there are wonders and magic I still don't understand—" His words were quieter now, “—and... for being smarter than me.”

“What was that?” Emma’s brow quirked with mischief. "I couldn’t quite hear you—"

“You heard me well enough.”

She considered it for a moment. “I think I heard you say I was smarter than you—the one and only, Beckett Harrington. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” She rested the back of her hand against his forehead.

He shook his head. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Well, if you want me to stop, you know what you have to do.” She grabbed the lapel of his navy peacoat, pulling him closer, their noses brushing together.

His freckled cheeks flushed at her gesture. “You’re impossible.” Beckett’s words were lost as he closed the gap between them. As their lips met, the warmth of her kiss seeped deep into him, a radiant glow that warmed him inside and out, like the gentle embrace of the soothing sun on a cold winters day.

The celestial lights above bore witness to their kiss, a moment of pure magic that rivaled the magic of this world and the magick of their studies.

I haven't written Beckett in... I honestly don't know how long 2, maybe 3??? years!?! I hope that our Book Club replay of TE will inspire some more Beckett and Emma stories. So far, I really only ever wrote them in my Detention Series.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!

[theartoflovingthomashunt]

Happy New Year!

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

Pairing: Thomas Hunt x Alex Spencer (F!OC) Book: Red Carpet Diaries Word Count: ~450 Rating: General: no warnings, just fluff Prompts: New Year's Eve @choicesficwriterscreations & @choicesholidays ; first kiss in the new year @choicesjanuary2024

Synopsis: Alex and Thomas spend New Year's Eve at a Charity gala.

This incredibly gorgeous portrait of my OTP is by the amazing ArtbyAinna (Insta). I've been holding onto this art for almost 2 years. I can't even begin to express how much I love this piece. It is one of my favorites of them ever. It's so tender and soft and romantic and it's so very, very much them. I truly can't thank Ainna enough for bringing this vision to life.

The ballroom gleamed with soft hues of gold, set against brilliant black. Flickers of gold twinkled like stars in the night upon the ceiling. The shimmering decor exuded elegance, while the subdued lighting provided a warm, inviting ambiance for the luxurious New Year’s Eve charity gala. The event began with a cocktail reception, followed by a charity auction, and finally, a countdown to the New Year celebration.

While most of the guests let loose near the bar or on the dance floor, moving to the beats of a famed DJ he had never heard of, Thomas and Alex found themselves drawn to a quieter corner, avoiding the boisterous revelry. The strands of lights behind them warmed them with their golden glow, a serene environment for the pair to lose themselves together while the year ticked away.

Their movements were slow and graceful as the pair swayed to a melody of their own. Thomas held Alex close in his gentle embrace, his hands resting softly on the small of her back. Alex’s arms circled around his neck as she nestled her head on his shoulder. Her eyes closed, relaxing in the comfort of his arms. She knew if it were up to him, he would have left the second the auction had ended, perhaps even before, had they accepted his offer to purchase a few pieces before the event. But still, he was here with her—because of her. A radiant smile spread across her lips; there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her, but that feeling was mutual.

“I love you,” she whispered softly. She tipped her head slightly, her gaze meeting his.

His lips brushed gently against her forehead, placing a tender, lingering kiss. “I love you, too, my Alex.”

The cheers of celebration grew louder, the countdown to the New Year beginning.

“Would you like to join in?” He questioned, though his arms remained warmly around her.

“I have everything I need right here.”

“I could not agree more.”

They leaned in, their lips meeting in a tender kiss even before the countdown was completed.

As cheers of “Happy New Year” filled the space, the pair stayed together, locked in a loving embrace. No matter what the future held, as long as they were together, they would make it through.

“Ready to go?” Alex whispered when they parted. She held her hand toward him.

"Almost." He couldn't resist stealing one more kiss. It was the first of many kisses to follow, but it was enough for now “Happy New Year, my love”

"Happy New Year, Thomas!"

He laced his fingers with hers, guiding her out of the ballroom, without a glance back toward the party, still in full strength. All they needed was each other, their children safely asleep at home, and their beloved black lab.

As much as I'd love to hold onto it, I feel like it's time to share it with the world. I know Thomas and Alex aren't a popular pairing but I appreciate any and all support of them now and always.They will always be the couple that I hold closest to my heart.

[lilyoffandoms]

Gabriel Rose

For Day 29 of the @choicesjanuary2024 challenge (Theme Prompt: Rebirth)

My Art Ish Thing: @aallotarenunelma @storyofmychoices

Yeah I’m posting out of order because I’m soooooo behind. I was doing so well and then I don’t know what happened haha. I mean, it was an ambitious idea to begin with but I thought I could maybe do it with a head start in December. Grand dreams. Oh well. Anyway, I did love this one if ya don’t look too closely at it.

[choicesficwriterscreations]

Last Chance to Win!!!

This month, we're giving away one commission from the lovely @/artbyainna (IG). And it's not too late for you to win!

What do I have to do? It's easy!

Read a fic, or check out some art from the Tumblr Top 5 - 2023 or from the Creator's Top 5 - 2023.

Reblog and comment on the fic/art.

Tag @choicesficwriterscreations on your reblog and use the tag #CFWC January 2024.

That's it!

Do that before Wednesday, January 31st, and you'll have a chance to win! For full event rules and information, see here. This is a great chance to show our talented fandom creators your love and support - and give you a chance to win beautiful art!

Signal boosts appreciated!

@choicesfandomappreciation @choicesmonthlychallenge @choicesjanuary2024 @choicesfebruary2024 @choicesholidays @choicesflashfics @choicesmcmadness @choicesprompts

All artwork in the header is by ArtbyAinna and are commissions previously won in CFWC contests. For information about the creations, please see here!

[choicesjanuary2024]

WELCOME || MASTERLIST || PROMPTS || RULES || HOST

Hello everyone! I’ve offered to host the January monthly challenge and so now you are stuck with me for yet another month.

It’s the first month of a new year so this month’s challenge is all about firsts. You will find the standard prompt list but also a special list of firsts to try and challenge yourself too.

So create using any of the prompts (no specific days assigned to any of them). But have no fear, if that’s not your cup of tea, that’s okay, feel free to use any of the prompts provided -in any way - to create anything you’d like for anything you’d like.

Everyone is welcome to participate (and I mean that absolutely), I simply ask that y’all read the rules and be kind to everyone. I like to believe we are all here to have fun and just be ridiculous with others that share our fandom space. So have fun, be kind, and happy creating!!

[inlocusmads]

hello, goodbye ~ jimmy rose

Jimmy writes a letter to his daughter, in the off-chance he doesn't come home. (crimes of passion)

wc: 949; teen and up

written for @choicesjanuary2024 day 10: Write a letter from one character to another.

a/n: just a really quick drabble to get me out of a slump - both in writing and well, everything lol

Nora,

Everything sucks, huh?

That is a terrible way to probably start this letter, but oh well. Herman, you know, the friend of mine who bought you that Tiana mug, tells me I’ve got to write a letter to my family and friends just in case I don’t come home. It is no military, sure, but being put in active danger everyday makes you want to write a little something just in case the worst thing happens.

It’s not going to happen. I doubt you’d read this.

If you do, here’s some life advice for when you turn twenty. I don’t know how old you would be if you read this, but I hope it is an age less than 20, because then there’s no point to this. You’d have learned everything already. Still, life advice is why I’m here. Besides driving you to soccer practice and waiting for you to score a goal.

I do hope you get better at soccer though. Exactly why I keep telling you - do your jumping jacks.

Back to life advice. I’ll keep this thing short because granted if you’re anything like me or Mom, you’d have given up reading this. Mom never liked stalling for time and long emails were no picnic for me either.

Anyway, life advice’s particularly useful if your life is sucky right now. So I hope it is. Not like that, but in a way you could really use some advice.

One: You’re going to need to hydrate. Fill up a flask with water. Good. Stick with it. Water’s your best friend if you ever plan on not fainting. Also, way less damaging for your gut. Whatever happens - even if you are in the middle of something horrible, look for water. Drink responsibly, you know the rest. Not water, though. Don’t skimp on that.

Two: I did not think this through. So when you’re writing a letter - or typing it - think everything through.

Three: You don’t have to get into medicine. Any Ivy League program works.

Kidding. I am, of course, kidding. I would hate to tell you to ‘do what you love’ because if that’s the case, I’m raising a future gambler with all of your trading cards and everything. I just want you to be able to find something you have the drive for. 

Not what you love doing, because that stuff changes everyday. I want you to be able to find a consistent drive for something. Not because Maddy or Tracie or anyone else told you to do so. Or randomly picking a job from a website. I don’t want you to completely love what you’re doing, but if you’re going to wholly hate something, you might as well do it more efficiently and not pursue that any longer.

Four: Money management is everything. Get a ledger when you start earning and keep track of your expenses. I don’t want you to get caught up in the whole whirlwind in your 20s and get a house and fill it with voidless decor. New York’s expensive living. Getting four jobs to ensure you come home to mahogany furniture is less than ideal. I want you to be able to sit out of the water, rather than keep your head up just to breathe while everything drowns around you. That’s a really good metaphor. The point is, don’t screw around with money. Get frugal for a bit until you feel secure. That a coffee from a cafe isn’t going to ruin your weekly bills. That splurging on the good kind of produce isn’t going to make you feel guilty, you skip meals to cut costs.

I can’t offer good advice on this. I doubt anyone else can either, so it will be a bit of trial and error at first. You’ve got to figure out what’s important to you. That’s going to take you a while to figure it out.

Five: I don’t know what the future is going to look like. I don’t know if you’d get a Secret Service job for instance, or if you’d get married or date or do any of that. I have no idea if you’re going to even say, move to the middle of a farm and raise chickens, but I do hope you know I’ll try my hardest to be there for you. Doesn’t matter if you need me or not, if you’re going to punch me square in the shoulder and roll your eyes, but I want to be there for whatever incredible or horrible decisions you make.

If I’m not there, well, pretend I am.

I’m watching. 

Kidding. Seriously Nora, don’t do drugs. Not worth it. Not even a weed brownie. I’m serious on this one, kid. If I ever find out, the grave won’t stop me. Everything might “suck” now, but all you need in the world are a couple of prayers, three meals a day and a good movie. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is my favorite. I think your Mother would have liked that too.

Also, keep in touch with family. Whether it be in Hong Kong or right next door in New York, don’t give up on family. My biggest regret is that I didn’t spend time with my cousins or aunts or uncles growing up. I think I would have had a very different life had I just talked to them. I hope you have that too- any kind of support system, really.

 If you can’t find one, be one yourself. I know you’re strong enough for that, if you just got your head out of trading cards.

Just be kind, all right? 

Dad.

***

Tagging:

perma: @quixoticdreamer16 @tessa-liam @stars-are-within-me

crimes: @trappedinfanfiction @ao719 @cassie-thorne @peonierose @moominofthevalley @jerzwriter

[thosehallowedhalls]

Home Without

Book: Crimes of Passion 2

Pairing: Trystan Thorne x F!MC (Emma Rose)

Rating: Teen

Word count: 1880

Summary: Trystan and Emma solve Nadja's murder on the first night. But what's left for them as a couple now that she doesn't have a reason to stay?

Series masterlist

A/N: Fun fact: this is saved on my laptop as WITWC - What If They Were Competent? It's ridiculous how incompetent Trystan and MC were in the second book. There was no reason for it to take so long or for Sebastyan to die. An energetic rant with the wonderful @inlocusmads made me wonder... what if they solved it as soon as they could have? Would MC have stayed in Drakovia? This is the result.

This story fits @choicesjanuary2024, day 18: memory. @lilyoffandoms. I also included a prompt from @choicesflashfics, which is bolded below.

Tags: @dutifullynuttywitch @stars-are-within-me

Part 1

This is not how Emma expected to end the day.

Trystan is sitting there telling her he doesn’t appreciate her tone, like he’s her father instead of her partner, and he might want that damn throne.

“I’m finished with this conversation,” he adds, his dismissive tone setting alight the flame of her temper.

“Well I’m not.”

She follows him out of the library, Alice on her heels. She needs to get at least one last message across. “Let’s get one thing straight. This isn’t up for debate, I’m going back home this week. With or without you.”

Trystan’s steps falter, but he continues to advance towards his suite. The sharp intake of breath is her first clue that something is wrong.

The unmistakable smell of blood is another.

Emma quickly gets to Trystan’s side and places a hand on his shoulder, an unconscious show of support, even as she takes in the brutality of the scene in front of her.

“Nadja,” he whispers. She’s never heard him sound so lost before. “She’s dead.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“How…?”

“Trystan.” Her training takes over. “This is an active crime scene now. We need to call your parents and Ruby.”

Once they leave the throne room, Trystan takes her hand.

“Emma, wait. I’m sorry for freezing you out earlier. Today has been – and continues to be – overwhelming.”

The apology is appreciated, but they have bigger fish to fry right now. So she tells him it’s already forgotten, even though she knows they will have to revisit the topic soon – and neither of them is likely to appreciate the outcome of that conversation.

He nods, grateful, but doesn’t let go of her hand. “What you said earlier…”

She knows what he wants to ask. But she can’t let herself go down this road. Not yet. “Let’s focus on the case. We can… We can talk about it later.”

After they finish searching Lydea’s room, Emma turns to Trystan.

“One suite down, seven to go. Whose room do we search next?”

“Vasili’s is next door, but murder is hardly his type.”

“Murder is hardly anybody’s type. Until it is.”

“Be that as it may, I have a hard time imagining him as a murderer. Other than Mags, he’s my only sane sibling.”

“Then this should be over quickly.”

They smell the blood before they even make it through the door.

“No,” Trystan breathes. “It can’t be.”

But they both see it. The bloody smears on the floor. The sweater vest stained with blood.

“Vasili?”

“Right. Unless this is an attempt to frame yet another Thorne, I’d say this case is open and shut.”

Vasili looks almost resigned when they step into the throne room and turn to face him. He doesn’t attempt to run or convince them that there’s a mistake or he’s being framed. Instead, he gives Trystan a look of profound disdain.

“This is your fault, you know.” He looks at Emma. “Both of you.”

“Oh? Did we hold a gun to your head and force you to slit a woman’s throat?”

“As good as. You got him off the hook for Juliana’s murder. You got him reinstated as Crown Prince.”

“Wait. Juliana’s murder? How would you…” Trystan’s face slackens in shock. “It was you?”

“No, it was you! If Juliana hadn’t chosen you, none of this would have happened.”

The family has been mostly silent so far, most likely out of sheer shock. But at this, Sebastyan steps forward. He’s looking at Vasili like he’s a stranger. “You killed Juliana? Why?”

Trystan sucks in a breath. “The letter that Noemi read in court. Juli wrote it to you.”

“We’d made all these plans. We’d pass the Act, she’d talk you into abdicating, and then we’d finally be together.  But then… she chose you. She decided she wanted to be with you. Never mind that she knew you would make a terrible king. Never mind that we talked about how your irresponsibility would run Drakovia into the ground. The second she fell in love with you, she forgot all about her principles.”

“That’s quite enough.” Queen Viktoria’s tone leaves a trail of frost behind. She shifts her steely gaze from her stepson to her daughter. “Lydea.”

Lydea’s eyes flash with something that Emma thinks might be pain. But then she sets her jaw. “Prince Vasili Thorne, you’re under arrest for the murders of Nadja Zoric and Countess Juliana Georgescu.”

“Well. That was fun.” Emika’s voice breaks into the stunned silence.

“Emika.” Although his face is a portrait of grief, Maksim turns to Eveline. She stands stock still, her hands pressed to her mouth and her eyes brimming with tears. “Let’s go, my love. You need to rest.”

As though she’s on strings, she lets herself be led out of the room, but Emma knows Eveline won’t be doing any resting. Not tonight, not for a long time.

She looks at the remaining Thornes. The twins are talking animatedly, apparently delighted by this turn of events. Astrid is texting. Sebastyan and Marguerite sit close together, looking devastated. And Trystan… Trystan stands next to her, a storm of sorrow in his eyes.

She takes his hand, making a mental note to check on Marguerite later. “Trystan?”

“Did… did that really just happen?”

“I’m afraid so.” She takes his arm. “Why don’t we go outside?”

“Why? Is outside an alternate universe where my brother isn’t a murderer and didn’t kill two innocent women, one of whom was my late fiancée?”

“No, but outside has the benefit of being devoid of Thornes.”

He gives the tiniest of laughs. There is hardly any humor behind it, but she’ll take it. “It’s annoying how often you’re right.”

There’s something eerily beautiful about the palace gardens at night. Emma isn’t a fanciful person, but she almost expects to see faeries frolicking and witches casting spells. This is a place for magic. The harsh, unforgiving type you might find in a Brothers Grimm fairytale.

“I can’t believe this, Emma.”

“I know.”

“I always thought Vasili was the best of us. The only one I trusted more was Marguerite. But all along, he hated me.”

“Maybe not all along.”

“Long enough. And I never picked up on it.”

“That’s not your fault. He never meant for you to pick up on it.”

He looks out to the gardens, his expression haunted. “Two women are dead because of that hate.”

“No, two women are dead because Vasili is a murderer. He could have talked to you. Instead, he chose to kill two people.” She lays a hand on his arm. “Trystan, I’m sure learning that Vasili and Juliana were together was a shock, but…”

“A shock is a surprise. This falls more along the lines of full-on electrocution.”

The fact that he’s still cracking jokes gives her hope. “But don’t let that ruin the memory of what you and Juliana had. You heard him. She chose you.”

He smiles faintly. “I know, Emma. Don't worry, I’m not having an existential crisis over the fact that Juliana had a life before me.”

“Good.”

She wraps an arm around his waist and tugs him into a hug. Trystan sighs, embracing her in return. “Emma Rose, voluntarily hugging? I’m all aflutter.”

“I hug you all the time.”

“It doesn’t count when I start it.”

“Trystan?”

“Hmm?”

“Be quiet.”

He laughs and holds her closer. “How is it that you make everything better?”

“I’m irresistible?”

“Yes.” He’s no longer laughing. “You are.”

They don’t bring up their earlier fight. They don’t talk about the strong possibility that he will stay in Drakovia, or about her proclamation that she will go back either way. By tacit agreement, they focus on getting through the present moment.

Eventually, however, they have to face the future.

Early the next morning, Emma opens her bedroom door to find Trystan standing outside, a travel mug in his hand.

“I brought you coffee.”

She takes it, bracing herself for what she knows is coming. “Thanks.”

“Can we go for a walk?”

“Sure.”

They walk in silence for several minutes. The palace gardens are as beautiful as they were night before, although far less eerie. She finds herself missing the almost otherworldly beauty. It suited her current mood much better than the Disney-esque quality of daylight.

“I can’t leave,” he says finally. Although it’s not a surprise, Emma’s heart still squeezes in pain. “What Vasili said…”

“Nadja’s murder wasn’t your fault. Neither was Juliana’s.”

“Maybe not, but… he was right about me, Emma. What he and Juliana talked about… I would have made a terrible king. I spent the first twenty-two years of my life dumping my responsibilities on everybody around me. Lydea, Vasili… even Bas, and he was only a teenager when I was exiled.”

“You were barely more than a kid.”

“I’m not a kid anymore. I abandoned my responsibilities to Drakovia once before. To do so again would mean…”

“What?”

He shakes his head. “I have to stay.”

“I understand.” And she does. Even as part of her hurts so badly she’s vaguely surprised she’s still standing, she smiles at him. “You’ll make an amazing leader.”

Trystan takes an unsteady breath. “Would you… Would you consider staying?”

“I can’t.” She looks down at her mug, at her boots, at the grass beneath them. Anything to avoid looking at him. “My life is in New York.”

“You could have a life here.” He cups her jaw. “I promise to make it as good as I possibly can.”

“Trystan, you can’t be my whole entire life. What would I even do here?”

“You could open your own agency! You saved a beloved Drakovian princess from a serial killer and put a prince away for two murders. Clients would be clamoring for your services.” His eyes soften. “And we could be together, you and me.”

“Yeah, like your dad and Eveline are together. That would never be enough for me.”

“Emma, I would never…”

“Trystan. What are the odds that your parents – or Drakovia in general – would accept an American private detective as your partner?” When his face falls, she nods. “That’s what I thought.”

She isn’t sure who moves first, but before she knows it, they’re tangled together. The kiss is so desperate she doesn’t know how they’ll break apart, not that she particularly cares. Trystan’s arms hold her tightly enough that she would worry about bruises if she had the bandwidth to think about anything at all, and she sinks her fingers into his hair, trying to commit the feel of it to memory.

After today, that’s all they’ll ever be. A memory.

He insists on taking her to the airport. Luke and Ruby are staying a few more days, but she made an excuse about needing to help out Uncle Tommy at the bar. The longer she stays with Trystan, the harder it will be to leave him behind.

He lingers on the goodbye hug. Emma clings to him, every bit as reluctant to part as he obviously is. But eventually, she breaks the hug and steps back.

“Well, Your Highness. It’s been an experience.”

Trystan smiles back. She wonders if her own smile looks as forced. “Detective. That it has.”

She searches through her carry-on for her boarding pass, steps into the boarding gate.

She doesn’t look back.

@choicesficwriterscreations

[jerzwriter]

A Tipsy Winter's Tale...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But not in the snow,” he simpered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where is what?”

“The switch! To turn this on!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where the hell are your shoes?”

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

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

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

“Wanna bet?” He grinned.

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

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

@choicesficwriterscreations

Tagging others separately.