#cfwc lgbtqia+

[aria-ashryver]

I Cannot Bear To Hold You With These Unworthy Hands

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow

Pairing: Aerin x m!human!MC (Dorian Silvertongue)

Words: 2.4K

Summary: After the night they spent together, Aerin weighs his troubled thoughts, trying to muster the strength to leave the bed, leave the tent, leave Dorian behind.

(or; Aerin writes his stupid little letter)

Ratings/Warnings: Teen - brief allusions to the fact that Aerin and MC have just slept together; brief mention that Baldur was abusive; brief mention of self-inflicted injury

A/N: A little ✨Aerin angst✨, as a treat! I haven't written for him (or Blades) before, so I'd love to know what folks think of the style and characterisation! Also, if you enjoy atmosphere (and being in pain), this piece was written to Adam Skorupa and Krzysztof Wierzynkiewicz's A Nearly Peaceful Place

@choicesficwriterscreations

Aerin was a smart man. He knew that. Prided himself on it, in fact. He’d always been quick-witted, clever, his rigorous education obvious to anyone he spoke to. There wasn’t a puzzle he’d ever come up against that he couldn’t unravel with ease.

Until Dorian.

The celebrations in Riverbend had continued well into the night; beyond the confines their tent, Aerin could still hear the light refrain of a flute, the slow, poignant swell of a fiddle, as a pair of minstrels played their longing to skies littered with stars. It wasn’t so loud that he couldn’t sleep through it; beside him, curved protectively around him, Dorian’s breath had evened out into the slow rhythm of true sleep.

Aerin felt him sigh against his skin. His body was warm with rest and the lingering heat of their lovemaking. Not for the first time, Aerin marvelled at how utterly, hopelessly stuck he was.

Not in the least because, even asleep as he was, Dorian didn’t seem as though he would deign to let him go any time soon. The man had a build borne of long years of physical labour and swordsmanship; those iron-banded arms hugged Aerin firmly against his chest, one arm looping around his waist, the other curving around his shoulders. He held him so sweetly, so securely, that it seemed that Aerin’s half-baked escape plan would fall apart at the first hurdle — namely, ever getting out of this blasted bed.

An alarmingly vocal part of him hoped that that would be the end of it.

Because that was the other thing that gave him pause. Try as he might, Aerin simply couldn’t make up his mind.

He should go.

Right?

Right. He should go.

Leaving the party, leaving Dorian —a gasp hooked in Aerin’s lungs— it was the right thing to do.

A breeze shook the walls of the tent, the burnt gold silks cracking and shuddering in the wind. How much nicer it would be, to just stay in the bed.

It was warm, inside. Next to Dorian. Everything was soft linen sheets and warm wood, the tent’s furnishings humble and plain, but comfortable. The candles burned low at the small table where they’d sat together and shared a cup of wine earlier that evening.

They’d talked for an hour or two after slipping away from Riverbend’s quaint little festival —Dorian had laughed at his own jokes, as he was wont to do, and he’d grinned at Aerin’s acerbic wit in a way that had his stomach tripping over itself— and then Dorian had kissed him like there was nothing and no one else in the world at all.

Like the answer to every question he’d ever had was as simple as that.

How easy it would be to pretend. To stay here, his head nestled on his lover’s chest, listening to the slow rise and fall of his breathing. How easy, to forget the outside world existed.

Aerin’s mouth twisted in a bitter smile. It was exactly the sort of irony he ought to have expected, he thought. All his life, he’d been trapped. Trapped by Baldur’s abuses; trapped by the minutiae of courtly decorum; trapped in a role wherein no one would ever see him as a person, merely an idea, a ghost of a farce of a mockery of what they all thought a “Prince” ought to be.

Then, when the abuses had worn him down to nothing, and he’d thought to seize some measure of independence for himself… It had been mistake after catastrophe after vainglorious disaster that had won him nothing but regret and a year-long stay in a cold cell.

Now that he finally, finally had the freedom to make decisions for himself, now that he had a chance to atone and do some good with his wretched excuse for a life, well.

How ironic that that very freedom was little but another cage.

Self-loathing was a demon that pressed him bodily into the sheets, turned the warmth around him hotter by degrees until it was suffocating.

Doing right by Dorian meant being worthy of him. And being worthy of him meant he’d have to shatter the nascent trust growing between them. He’d have to betray Dorian, again, after all the kindness he’d shown him.

They had been three days out from Riverbend when the party had set camp one night, and a whip-thin fox had darted across the edge of the clearing. It was clearly wild, its hackles raised in gnawing hunger and fear, but Dorian had simply grinned and hunkered down with a strip of dried meat in his hand.

It had taken him most of the evening, but eventually Aerin had returned from gathering kindling with Mal to find the creature eating the meat right out of his outstretched fingers. Another half-hour of gentle coaxing and it had chirruped and curled up right in Dorian’s lap.

Mal had rolled his eyes, shaking his head as if he found the whole thing laughable. Expected, even. As though he knew how little chance anything —anyone— had of resisting Dorian’s charm.

As Aerin had stroked disbelieving fingers through the creature’s flame-red pelt, he’d finally understood that the gut-deep pull he’d been feeling since their first kiss by the lake was some combination of a deep, pervasive sadness… and a potent yearning.

An unabating ache.

Teeth, and claws, and snarling wildness; none of it seemed to bother Dorian. A deep-rooted instinct to lash out in self-defence, stemming from a life of fear and pain, it was simply no match for his easy smiles and slow coaxing. Once Dorian Silvertongue set his sights on something —on someone— they were all but his. Aerin yearned for Dorian to tame him, as patiently and painlessly as he had the fox.

When they’d packed up camp the following morning, the fox was gone, but the feeling lingered.

And when they’d happened upon a particularly tricky patch of forest trail not long after they’d left the clearing, Aerin hadn’t been able to resist taking Dorian’s outstretched hand.

For a fleeting moment, Aerin let himself imagine he could stay.

That the pair of them weren’t tangled up in a mess of his own making; that the hand Dorian had held so gently wasn’t covered in blood he couldn’t wash clean.

That maybe they’d lace their fingers through one another’s to stroll along the piers of Port Parnassus, taking in the markets and the brisk night air. That they could be just a pair of travellers, unremarkable, unburdened save for the kiss of salt upon their skin as ocean mist sprayed up from the docks.

Laughter on their lips as an unexpected swell left them drenched.

Perhaps he’d get the chance to get back at Dorian for those godsawful sausages he’d had them all eat at the festival tonight — they could taste the fare from various street vendors, feed each other unfamiliar fruits and spiced wine of dubious vintage.

…He’d buy Dorian a handcrafted ring to replace the one he still wore on a chain around his neck. One that wasn’t a mark of Whitetower, of the Valleros family, but just him.

Just Aerin.

An honest gift from one beating heart to another, both of whom had known far too much pain and burden. A mark of a new beginning.

Dorian’s skin was hot beneath Aerin’s cheek; stifling a gasp, Aerin pulled back, blotting away the few errant tears that had begun to pool on his chest.

He stared long and hard at Dorian’s sleeping face. The way his hair fell in his eyes. The bruised shadows beneath them. The rasp of stubble at Dorian’s jaw that even now he could feel burning against the delicate skin of his thighs, his neck.

Dorian’s shifted slightly in his sleep, his fingers spasming on Aerin’s skin, clutching at him in a way that had a flurry of butterflies alighting in his stomach.

Frozen, Aerin caught his lip between his teeth, scared to move.

Hoping Dorian wouldn’t wake.

Praying he would.

It would be selfish of him to stay, he should go. He was a smart man; he knew he should do what needed to be done. It was the right thing to do.

Never mind that even thinking of walking away from the one good thing he’d ever had in his accursed life felt akin to shoving a knife into his own chest.

He’d done that, once.

The Nerada stone hadn’t wanted to budge, the rituals he’d undertaken to free himself of Shadow corruption were long, and laboured, and exhaustingly brutal, but he’d taken that pain as penance.

Somehow, it hurt less than the thought of Dorian waking to find that Aerin had betrayed him yet again.

Sand hurtled through the hourglass as Aerin let his looming choices fall by the wayside.

He knew he was running out of time.

But right now, all he wanted to do was memorise exactly how it felt to be held.

It was with a slow reluctance that Aerin drew his unworthy hands away from the only person he’d ever loved. Easing out of Dorian’s grasp, he slipped from the bed. Located his smallclothes in the jumbled pile of leather and linens and weaponry on the floor. Pulled those on. His trousers and boots, those too.

The heat of Dorian’s skin still warmed his palms; an echo that he knew would fade all too soon. He tugged his tunic on over his head, hopeful the clinking music of buckles and straps might rouse him from his slumber, dreading whatever excuse he’d make if it did.

Aerin knew Dorian hadn’t been sleeping well since his escape from the Ash Empire. Most nights he’d wake with a scream catching in his throat, a skittering panic in his eyes that Aerin knew well himself. More cruel then, that the fates would have him sleeping so peacefully tonight, the marks Aerin had left on his throat a brand, a traitor’s kiss, a ghost edge of a knife wound.

Aerin finished dressing.

Dorian slept.

He crossed to the nightstand, poured himself a glass of water from the decanter. Tried to swallow past the tightness in his throat.

Still, Dorian slept.

Would he think of him, Aerin wondered? Would Dorian ache for him the next time he bedded down alone?

…would he even be alone?

Aerin clamped his jaw shut against a swell of sudden nausea. He knew Dorian was open with his affections, and he’d thought he didn’t begrudge him that —what he shared with Mal was strictly physical, at least on Dorian’s part, though his blossoming relationship with Nia hadn’t survived their confrontation with the Dreadlord— but for a moment, bitter, ugly jealousy made him feel ill.

Would this second betrayal be enough to carve Aerin’s name out of his heart for good? Push him back into Nia’s arms?

Aerin swallowed.

Perhaps it was better that Dorian hate him. He didn’t deserve his kindness, much less his love. Not after everything he’d done.

Dorian was a blazing comet streaking through the night sky; Aerin the empty void he lit with his passing. He didn’t regret the night they’d shared together; far from it, he couldn’t remember ever being happier. Just this once, Aerin had longed to blaze up alongside him, lost in his fire, in his light.

Just this once, he’d wanted to cling to him as he burned.

It had been better than anything he’d ever dreamed.

Aerin set the glass down, his hands shaking around the decanter as he poured himself a second glass of water.

Of course he had to leave. How could he kid himself that he could have a place amongst the great heroes of Morella? Him — a hero? Who was he trying to fool?

Jaw clenching, Aerin took a seat at the table, drawing some papers and ink from his satchel. He laid them out with slow precision, hating himself, hating the world, hating everything he had to do.

Behind him, Dorian gasped in his sleep; it was an agonised shock of sound that cut Aerin to the quick. He leapt to his feet, crossing the tent to perch on the bedside as Dorian jolted himself awake.

‘P-please!’ Dorian gasped. ‘Don’t. Don’t!’

‘It’s alright,’ Aerin said.

One of Aerin’s hands came up to cradle Dorian’s face; the other rubbed soothing circles against his chest. Dorian’s hand flew up to clutch at his wrist.

‘Aerin?’

‘I’m here, it’s okay,’ Aerin murmured. His heart clenched painfully as Dorian’s sleep-addled gaze locked onto his and immediately grew less panicked. ‘You’re safe, Dorian. I’m right beside you.’

Almost before he’d finished speaking, Dorian’s eyes drifted closed — but not before he’d slid his hand higher to lace their fingers together where Aerin’s hand still cradled his face.

It was almost too much.

It would be so easy to sink back into that bed, sink back into a sense of belonging he didn’t deserve.

Aerin sucked a strained breath against the tightness in his lungs, gently extricating himself from Dorian’s grasp. He didn’t know if it was some ill-begotten vestige of Shadow, lingering in his chest even now, or if breathing was simply beyond him where Dorian was concerned.

Every time they met each other’s eyes, the air in Aerin’s lungs turned to pitch.

Perhaps… he could stay? Dorian’s love would alight him, and the pitch in his lungs would blaze and burn, every breath between their kisses turned golden and glowing with light and fire.

Perhaps he should leave.

Let it cool and harden. Let his lungs solidify. Let him never draw a joyous breath again.

He should leave.

He should leave.

He sat at the table, his pen poised above the crisp parchment. He stayed frozen in place for so long the ink dripped from the nib, pooling into a dense, black blot on the page. It soaked into the paper, the sight eerily reminiscent of tendrils of shadow bleeding into smooth, pale skin.

Aerin choked down the tears, the bile threatening to rise, and scribbled down the only useless words he could muster.

Dear Dorian,

I apologize for leaving so abruptly, especially without saying goodbye...

...what a Gods-forsaken joke.

Drying his eyes, Aerin stole one last look, not knowing if he would ever see Dorian again. He wanted to kiss him goodbye. Wanted it so desperately it burned. He wanted Dorian’s eyes to flutter open at the first touch of his lips; for his hand to snap out one more time to clutch at Aerin’s own; for him to whisper please.

Please, Aerin. Don’t go. Stay with me.

Dropping the folded parchment on the table, his fingers trembling, Aerin turned to leave, knowing he was a jester, he was a fool, he was the realm’s most miserable joke.

[gaiuskamilah]

healing herbs

f!aerin x varda rainbearer (she/her)

timelapse under the cut / f!aerin design loosely based off of this edit by @zhoras-bitch

🎵 clean - the japanese house

[talasintahan]

i will always be there for you, raine. always.

aerin x raine for an art trade with @oh-so-youre-a-nerd

[choicesficwriterscreations]

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[jerzwriter]

I've Got You

I realized I had no art for Casey and Jess, and when I decided to rectify that, I knew exactly who I wanted to go to. @rosefuckinggenius did not disappoint! Look at my two sweet girls! I love them so much! Thank you for bringing my babies to life, Rose! You're the best!

I wrote a little drabble below to accompany it. I hope you enjoy it! 💕

Book: Open Heart (Pre-Series/Med School) Pairing: Casey MacTavish (F!MC) x Jessica Phillips (F!OC) Words: 696 Rating: Teen Summary: Casey & Jess are taking a little break until there is a turn of events - then it's Jess to the rescue. A/N: Participating in @choicesnovchallenge -  Go For A Ride Day - not in the traditional sense, but hey, it works! lol and @choicesflashfics "Don't put all the blame on me." My Casey & Jess series takes place during Casey's med school years in Philadelphia, so this is prior to her arrival at Edenbrook.

For more on Casey & Jess, see here.

My Full Masterlist

Based on the crowds, it seemed all of Philadelphia was out to enjoy the beautiful late spring day, and Casey and Jessica were no exception. They put their books aside for a while to take a relaxing walk along the Race Street Pier. It was just what the doctors-to-be ordered... until things took a turn. Literally.

“Ouch!” Casey winced, toppling to the ground with her hands clutching her ankle.

Jess was immediately at her side. “Case? Babe, you OK?”

“Ow, no,” she groaned. “I think I twisted by ankle."

"Oh, hon! You have to be more careful."

"Hey! Don’t put all the blame on me. I was distracted by the gorgeous woman next to me. You're a hazard, Jess."

Jess was happy to see Casey maintain a sense of humor, but she was already at her feet, fully in physician mode.

“I didn’t hear a pop when you fell, and the ankle presentation’s normal... so I don't think it was a break.”

“Trust me, if it was a break I wouldn't be cracking jokes. It's just a twisted ankle," Casey said attempting to stand. "I'll just... OW!"

"You'll just sit and let me continue examining it!" Jess demanded. "You're obviously in pain... and I can feel some instability when I move it... it's probably a sprain."

“Let’s see if I can stand on it.”

“All right,” Jess agreed, quickly rising to support Casey. “Slowly..."

Casey did her best to be brave, she didn't want to be bested by a stupid misstep. She managed to stifle a yelp as a jolt of pain shot from the tender spot, but her eyes screwed shut, and that was all Jess needed to see.

“That’s it!” the beautiful redhead insisted. “You are not walking home.”

“Jess, don’t be ridiculous. We’re only about three blocks away.”

“Yup! Three blocks too many for you to walk in this condition."

"It doesn’t hurt that bad," Casey fibbbed. "I can wobble.”

“Wobble my ass!” Jess snapped, turning her back to Casey.  “Let’s go. Hop on.”

“Wait... what?”

“Hop on! I'm carrying you back to the apartment.”

“You’re giving me.... a piggyback ride? Really?”

Jess turned around with a roll of her eyes. “This isn’t for fun... and don't get excited... it’s nothing kinky, either. We just need to get you home so I can look at that ankle better. At a minimum, you'll need some ice and elevation."

“Jess, it’s not necessary... I can...”

But Jess was done. “GET ON!”

Casey knew when it was time to hush up, and now was that time. She hopped onto her girlfriend's back at once, but she wasn't done complaining.

“For the love of... Jess... I love you, but sometimes you’re just...”

“Just what?”

Hearing the concern in Jess’s voice, Casey felt her defenses thawing.  “You’re just... too good to me.  That's what you are. I’m sorry.”

“It’s OK,” Jess said with the very smile that first caught Casey's eye. “Patients in pain can be quite crabby... I learned that five minutes into med school.”

Jess lifted Casey's thighs, and Casey wrapped her arms around Jess's neck. But when it didn’t go as smoothly as they had hoped, the two women couldn’t help but laugh.

“Babe, look. I'm laughing. Are you sure I can't try to...."

“CASEY!" Jess snapped.

“But I weigh as much as you do! I don't want to hurt you."

Jess continued to walk with a shrug of her shoulders. “Why do you think I work out so much?”

Casey's brow crinkled. "I don't know? You do work out a ridiculous amount of time. Why do you?"

"Isn't it obvious? I have a beautiful, brilliant... but clumsy girlfriend... I have to be prepared for moments like this.”

“Gee, thanks,” Casey laughed, nuzzling her face into Jess’s hair, the sandalwood scent of Jess's shampoo filling her senses.  “Jess?” She whispered, squeezing her just a bit tighter.

“Yes?”

“I’m so lucky to have you.”

“You really are,” Jess grinned. “But then again, I’m lucky to have you.”

“You are,” Casey giggled. “But try to play it safe, OK? Because if this should happen to you... I couldn't do this... I'd have to spring for an Uber."

~~~~~

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[cordonianroyalairlines]

All I Want for Christmas Part 2

Series: Cordonian Royal Airlines

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for series: Various

Pairing for this chapter: Riley x Drake, Liam x Max

Word Count: 2,848

Rating: General

Warnings for this chapter: none

Submissions: @choicesprompts rewrite challenge, holiday edition TRR x Untamed Heart (one of my all-time favorite movies). @choicesficwriterscreations holiday prompt: Stuck together in the snow; @choicesdecember2023 Christmas and @choicesholidays: This is the worst/best Christmas ever.

A/N: So the end of this is based very loosely on a scene from Untamed Heart. I looked for a clip of the scene in question but couldn't find one. You'll have to trust me that this is one of the most underrated movies of all time. If you've never seen it, you should look it up and watch it.

“Hey, you okay?”

“What?” Riley glanced up in surprise, wiping the wetness from her face with the palm of her hand, “I’m fine.”

“Hm.” Drake grunted as he pulled out a chair and sat down without waiting for an invitation. “You don’t look fine.”

She tried to laugh and cry at the same time and the sound came out as a little hiccup, “Sorry, it’s just Christmas Eve, you know?”

“Yeah….” He said carefully, reluctant to reveal that he didn’t know, not really. He had a mother and a sister, but he wasn’t close to either one. “So, you had plans, I take it?”

“Of course! Every year we all go to my parents’ house for Christmas. My brother Ryder and his wife and kids, my sister Amelia and her fiancé, and my brother Jory will be home from school, and this is Declan’s last year at home before he goes off to university…. I’ll be the only one not there this year….”

“So, you’re close to your siblings?” He set the bottle and glass on the table between them and gestured toward it. “Drink?”

She shook her head. “No thanks. And yes, I’m very close to my siblings and my parents.”

“Would you like something else? I’ll buy you a drink. You can tell me about your siblings.”

“I wouldn’t say no to an amaretto sour…”

An hour later, she looked up to find him smiling at her softly. She flushed as she realized she had been dominating the conversation. “I’m so sorry! I’m just rambling on and on about myself and my family! Tell me about yours!”

“Nah,” he waved her off, “There’s not much to tell. I’d rather hear about yours. Your brother Jory sounds hilarious. Declan should definitely dump that guy, and I agree with Max about your sister. It sounds like she takes your love and support for granted.”

“Max and Amelia have never gotten along,” Riley said with a sigh.

“You’ve known Max for a long time, huh?”

“Since we were teenagers. He’s the one that talked me into becoming a flight attendant and got me this job.”

“You didn’t want to be a flight attendant?”

She shrugged as she pulled her drink closer to her and toyed with the rim, “I was deep in my I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up phase.”

“And now?”

“I like it. I don’t know if it’s what I want to do forever, but it’s really fun for right now. I have no complaints.”

The tension that had set in his back and shoulders at the thought of her quitting eased out of him as he relaxed back into his chair. “As airline jobs go, this is about as good as it gets.”

“You’re not wrong.” Not only did the private airline pay better than commercial airlines, but there were many perks from more flexible schedules to stipends for living expenses while traveling and generous bonuses. But the biggest benefit was getting to work with her best friend. All in all, she really couldn’t complain. “Thanks, Drake.”

“For what?”

“Taking the time to sit here and cheer me up. You didn’t have to do that. I’m sure you have plenty of things you’d rather be doing than listening to me go on and on about my family.”

He scoffed as he looked away from her and lifted his glass to his mouth. “I really don’t.” He was estranged from his family, single, and his only real friend was Liam. All of which was usually fine with him. He preferred it that way honestly, seeing himself as a lone wolf. Community and togetherness were overrated. He needed very little to be happy.

Something about this girl made him want more, though, and the feeling unsettled him.

“Well, at any rate, thank you,” she yawned, “but I should probably get back up to my room.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” he glanced at his watch as he stumbled to his feet, “Me too. I’ll walk you up.”

The look she gave him sent butterflies exploding through his chest and he quickly clarified, “For safety, you know.”

“Right,” she nodded in agreement, but the smile that played across her lips said she understood exactly what was going on between them.

Good thing one of them did.

Entering the elevator, he reached out and pressed the button for the twelfth floor. He turned his head to find her giving him a measuring look. “What?”

“I didn’t tell you what floor I was on. How did you know?”

His eyes widened as he stared at her like a deer caught in the headlights. He had never felt so much panic surge through his body at one time and he had flown into combat zones before leaving the military for the private sector. His scotch-laden brain struggled to come up with a response that didn’t include telling her he had asked Liam what floor she was staying on. “Max must have mentioned it.” He mumbled.

“When did you talk to Max?”

He was saved from answering when her phone vibrated, and she quickly answered a text from one of her brothers. He heaved out a sigh of relief and changed the subject. “So, what do you like best about Christmas other than your family? The presents?”

“No,” she laughed, “The tree and decorations. There’s just something so peaceful about the lights and ornaments. Waking up to my mom’s ham and cheese omelets for Christmas breakfast. Oh, and I love the music!”

“Yeah? What’s your favorite Christmas song?”

“Jingle Bell Rock,” she replied without hesitation. “I know it’s not the most popular, or sentimental, but I love the beat and I love horses, so there you go. What’s yours?”

“Mine? Oh, no, I don’t have-“

“Come on, Drake, you have to have a favorite Christmas song!”

“Okay, okay, if you put a gun to my head then I guess I’d say it’s Do They Know It’s Christmas.”

Her mouth fell open. “Really?”

“Yeah, really, why is that surprising?”

“I don’t know. I figured you for a Rocking Around the Christmas Tree kind of guy. Why is Do They Know It’s Christmas your favorite?”

“I don’t know,” he jostled his body weight from foot to foot as he silently willed the elevator to hurry the fuck up, “I think it’s the juxtaposition of mindless consumerism with the destitution of impoverished peoples. It makes you think. Or it should.”

“Wow, Drake. You have hidden depths. I knew it!”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “You think about my depths?”

It was Riley’s turn to flush as she spun her body back to face the doors just as they dinged open. “Well, here we are!”

He saw her safely to her door in a silence that suddenly felt comfortable and right, as if him walking her to her door was a normal, everyday occurrence.

She opened the door and looked back over her shoulder, “Thank you again….for everything.”

“I should be thanking you for saving me from drinking alone. See you tomorrow, Riley.”

“See you tomorrow, Drake. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” he said as her door closed.

He stood outside her door for a long moment as he talked himself out of knocking on it and asking her to let him in.

Relationships with co-workers never ended well. He would know.

He turned and started trudging back down the hallway toward the elevator when he was seized by a sudden inspiration. Whipping his phone from his pocket, his fingers flew over the keyboard as his pace quickened and he hurried briskly back to his room, a smile of anticipation curving up his lips.

***

The next morning, Riely rolled out of bed and pulled the curtains open to see the area blanketed in freshly fallen snow, but it was all on the ground. Nothing fell from the clear blue sky.

With a squeal of joy, she bounced back to the bed to grab her phone from the nightstand, preparing to call Liam and ask if they had a takeoff time and then Max to find out how things had gone with Liam the night before, but before she could dial either number, it vibrated in her hand. She glanced down to see a text message in the group chat Liam had created yesterday when he invited everyone to dinner. It was from Drake.

Meet me in the Mountain Vista conference room.

That was odd, but okay. She quickly dressed and hurried out into the hallway, bumping into Max as she did so. “Were you waiting outside my door?”

“I was about to knock! I guess you got the text from Drake?”

“Yeah, but it’s weird, right? I mean, his entire contribution to the group chat yesterday was the word okay. And not even the whole word, just the two letters O.K.”

“I don’t know, but I hope it involves food! Come on, let’s go!”

When they arrived at the lower-level conference room, Max pulled the door open, and Riley walked into a stunning surprise.

Christmas finery draped the entire room. A six-foot tree adorned the center of the raised stage at the front of the room, fully decorated, complete with an angel on top. There were gift-wrapped packages under the tree. Christmas music spilled out of the speakers and a buffet table lined the far wall. She turned in circles, taking in the decorations everywhere, her mouth agape, “What is all this?”

“Uh…” Drake rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Nothing. I mean it is Christmas! Just thought you- um, just thought everyone could use a little Christmas cheer this morning.”

“You did all this?”

“Yeah…”

“Drake, it’s amazing! But why? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining at all, but there’s a Christmas tree in the lobby.”

“I know, but that’s just a generic hotel tree for everybody. I thought you deserved something a little more personal.”

She stared up at him with wide eyes. “You did all this for me?”

“I mean….for all of us,” he declared hurriedly, turning away so she wouldn’t see the red coloring his cheeks. “I even managed gifts.” He plucked a package out from under the tree and held it out to her. “Don’t get too excited, they’re just t-shirts from the hotel gift shop. I got one for each of us.”

Riley watched as Drake tossed one to Liam, who had entered the room just behind them, and then Max. He kept the last one for himself. “Hope they fit.”

“How the hell did you accomplish all this?” A tinge of awe colored Liam’s voice.

Drake lifted his shoulder. “I just made a few phone calls and had things delivered.”

“They delivered all this in a snowstorm?” Max gaped at him.

“Well, the blizzard is over,” Drake scoffed, gesturing out the plate-glass windows along the side of the room. “This is just a lot of snow.”

“Ah, you missed your family today, too!” Riley gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Yeah.” Drake agreed as he turned his head to avoid the sharp look Liam gave him. “We should eat while this is still hot.”

“Ohhhh,” Max rubbed his hands together, “Good idea! It smells delicious!”

Drake followed behind Riley and Max toward the food. Liam sidled up next to him and lowered his voice so no one else could hear, “You never spend Christmas with your family.”

“What? Yeah, no, that’s….. you like waffles, right? Because I ordered waffles.”

“Oh, my god!” Riley exclaimed, “Ham and cheese omelets!”

“And bacon,” Max pointed out. “Don’t forget the bacon. Oh! And crepes!”

Her gaze slid thoughtfully to Drake as Max loaded his plate. “Did you order this because of what I told you last night?”

“Order what?” Drake shook his head as he reached for a plate. “I just asked for food. Lucky coincidence.”

“Okay.” She gave him an appraising look. He avoided direct eye contact with her.

The group sat down at a table near the center of the room and enjoyed breakfast together. Riley bit into a forkful of fluffy eggs, melted cheese, savory ham, and crisp onions as she took in the comforting twinkle of Christmas lights reflecting off red and gold ornaments. Max was already wearing the shirt Drake had given him and a Santa hat that he had produced from seemingly nowhere. All of it was set against the backdrop of sheer whiteness that could be seen through the conference room windows. Every ice-covered tree, bush and light post sparkled in the bright morning sun. A sense of peace and contentment that she hadn’t expected to feel on this particular morning settled over her as the group ate and laughed together.

Her phone rang. “It’s my mom!” she answered and after several tearful exchanges of I love you, I miss you and Merry Christmas, she addressed the group, “My mom wants to say hi to everyone.” She placed the phone in the middle of the table and pushed the speaker button so Catherine Brooks could wish the entire flight crew a Merry Christmas. “And especially you, Drake!” she gushed. “Riley told me about the tree and decorations. Thank you for making the day special for her. You’re a good friend.”

“I’m glad she liked it. I just thought we could all use a pick me up since everyone is missing the day with their family,” he lied. The truth was, he couldn’t stand to see her sad. The smile that had washed over her face and stayed there since she had first walked into the conference room made every bit of effort and expense he had gone to more than worth it.

Not that he was interested in her. He didn’t get involved with co-workers.

“Well, nevertheless, thank you and if you’re ever in our neck of the woods, we would love to meet you!”

“Ah…sure, that would be…all right…”

Drake was rescued by Max, who leaned over the phone to yell “I love you!” and “Merry Christmas!” at Riley’s family.

When every member of the Brooks family had spoken to both Riley and Max and the call was finally over, Liam looked up from his own phone and announced, “Great news…we can fly out now!”

“I almost don’t want to.” Max blurted out and then flushed from the tip of his nose all the way down to his toes. “I mean….I just meant this is nice, and it’s warm in here….”

“It’s okay, Max,” Liam grinned at him, “This has been nice, but we do need to get back home. If we don’t make it back today, we’ll have to reschedule tomorrow’s flight, and then I’ll have to deal with Madeleine and her bullshit.”

Drake shuddered. “Why the fuck did Leo give her part ownership again?”

“He didn’t give it to her,” Liam shook his head as he returned his phone to his pocket, “the judge in their divorce did.”

“Still. She acts like her twenty-five percent is controlling interest or something.”

“Tell me about it.” Liam was not overly fond of his ex-sister-in-law, but he couldn’t deny that she was skilled with the parts of the business he disliked, such as accounting and marketing. He just wanted to fly; and Madeleine taking over those parts, had allowed him to do exactly that.

“Well, I guess we should all go pack then,” Max headed toward the door, “You coming, Riley?”

“In a minute. You go on. And you’re still coming home with me today, right?”

“Bert won’t be home until tomorrow, so yes.”

Liam hurried across the room. “Hold on, Max, I’ll walk up with you!”

Riley and Drake watched them leave, then turned to each other. They stood silent and unmoving for a long moment in the middle of the Christmas finery, eyes searching eyes, unspoken emotions playing across both faces.

She took a step forward, “Drake…”

He caught her hand in his as she reached out for him. “Riley…we can’t…”

“And yet you did all this.”

“I’m sorry. It’s not you. It’s me.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her fingers, then quickly dropped it. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Drake, and thank you. Really. It means a lot to me.” She leaned in, went up on her tiptoes and placed a soft kiss on his cheek before whispering in his ear, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone that you’re a gooey, mushy marshmallow on the inside. Your reputation is safe.”

A short laugh escaped him as she stepped away. He watched her walk to the door with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that was at odds with the soaring feeling in his chest.

She liked him, right?

Not that it mattered. It was a bad idea to get involved with a co-worker.

As she slipped out the door, panic sliced through his being as he realized that he was involved.

He was very involved.

He heaved a sigh that was full of both resignation and wonder as he made his way back to his room to pack.

[storyofmychoices]

Nyx & LunaRose

Flowers: Angel trumpets (pink one) symbolize creativity/inspiration and honor granted to a higher being/power. Devil’s trumpets symbolize power and caution. Both bloom at night.

I can't thank the absolutely brilliant and talented @lilyoffandoms for this incredible art of Nyx and LunaRose (unicorn). To say that it's stunning is an understatement. This is just spectacular. The pose, the details, the colors!!! I love the play of light and dark! And Nyx's skin reflecting their connection to the stars is everythinggg. Nyx is absolutely beautiful, and Lily captured it so so perfectly! Thank you, Lily, for being the loveliest and the most talented. I'm so eternally grateful to have you in my life!

And thank you @peonyblossom and @choicespride , for hosting the lovely Valentine's Day event that made this possible!

[Learn more about Nyx]

[cassie-thorne]

Kissing the devil💋💋

Who... Who are you?

You don't need to know

Crimes of Passion Bk2, Ch14

Inside Cameron's head:

I can't blame her, she's just like me fr

Astrid please ruin my life🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

Also, I changed Cameron's outfit, ngl that dress was so beautiful and my favorite shade of blue too but you could never make Cameron wear a dress lmaoo

| @choicesficwriterscreations

[theartoflovingthomashunt]

Cafe Whispers and Scone Kisses

Pairing: Addison Sinclair x Alex Spencer (F!MC) ; Thomas Hunt x Alex Spencer (mentioned) Book: Hollywood U Word Count: ~350 Rating/Warnings: general, no warnings, all the fluff Prompts: @choicespride Date Night Day? ; @choicesfebruary2024 /@jerzwriter : Ludus ; @choicesficwriterscreations FOTW + Pride; A/N: I couldn't find my SSs or videos, so I edited this! Thanks to @gutsfics for my Alex transparent.

Synopsis: Alex and Addison have a coffee date.

Addison tucked a strand of hair behind Alex's ear as she pressed a tender kiss on her girlfriend's cheek. "You look beautiful."

Alex's finger tenderly grazed Addison's jaw, guiding her lips to her own. 

Their lips met sweetly, the busy cafe pausing around them. Addison's hand rested on the small of Alex's back as Alex cradled her face, keeping her locked in her embrace. Addison couldn't stop her growing smile. 

"I've missed you," Alex whispered as they parted. 

"I was only gone for the weekend."

Alex laced her fingers with Addison's, guiding her to a quiet booth in the back where she already had coffee and scones waiting for them. "Am I not allowed to miss my gorgeous girlfriend?"

Her cheeks warmed as she chewed the corner of her lips. "I just figured you'd be distracted with you know who... and not even think about me."

Alex laughed softly, her gaze lingering on the blonde beside her. "You have no idea how incredible you are, do you?" 

"Alex—"

"You are insanely talented, generous, kind, gorgeous, and all-around an incredible person. How could I not think about you?" Alex marveled. "I have room in my life for both of you. And you know who doesn't mind sharing me. I think he might actually enjoy it."

Addison hid her smile behind her vanilla latte, taking a sip of the warm liquid. "I missed you too."

"Good," Alex beamed, her gaze never leaving Addison. She shook her head slightly, unsure how she got so lucky to have two wonderful people in her life. 

As they enjoyed their coffee and scones in the cozy booth, Addison couldn't wipe the smile off her face. She rested her head on Alex's shoulder, relaxing into her arms. "I'm lucky to have you."

Alex grinned back, "The feeling is mutual, trust me."

The pair nestled comfortably in the corner of the cafe, talking about their respective weekends, sharing words of adoration and soft laughter, forgetting the world around them, and focusing on the warmth blossoming between them. 

Just thinking about these two recently and thought it was about time I give them a little drabble!

Not really edited, just something that popped in my head today.

[moominofthevalley]

The Girl with the Glass

Trystan finds a mysterious scrapbook. Emily has a deep conversation with a stranger.

Characters: Trystan Thorne x Emily Rose

WC: 2.5k

Rating: Teen | CW: Mentions of Grief

CFWC Prompt Used: ‘Visiting a Holiday Market’ & ‘The holidays won’t be the same now that they’re gone’

A/N: Happy Holidays, everyone! This drabble is inspired by an influx of things – mostly my favorite film, “Amélie,” if you couldn’t tell by the title. (Which, of course, is not-so-subtle-symbolism). Enjoy!

“It’s your turn, Trystan!” 

Snow sprinkled downwards, little husks of angels drooping to the wintry ground. Crowds of faces walked the busy New York streets, surrounded by shiny knickknacks and dusty clothes. Cheeks were stained pink, and lips curled upwards in the holiday spirit. Trystan urged out a cocky grin, arms around Emily’s waist. 

“Is it, now?” 

“Yes, it is! I’ll go and get something for us to eat.” 

Trystan pecked her forehead, whispering, “Do something good!” before disappearing into the crowd. He grew fond of these new habits of love, searching for a trinket to take back to their hearth. 

It was a silly tradition, but a tradition nonetheless. It began with a scratched Pierrot figurine Emily bought from a vintage shop. Ivory skin and porcelain eyes, and a black-and-white costume with a frilled collar. Like some haunted elf on the shelf, the clown explored the apartment all by itself – according to Trystan, at least. The second well-loved piece was a gift from Marguerite: a brass ladybug ashtray. Neither Emily nor Trystan smoked, though the aureate bug was far too interesting to be thrown away. The most recent find was a print of Renoir’s The Luncheon of the Boating Party Emily purchased from a local art gallery. Both of them adored it; the celebration of warmth and good company, the splendid wines and fruits, calmness in beauty in the mundane. Drinks and company aside, Emily was far more fascinated with the girl with the glass. A sullen woman drinking wine in a sea of chatting strangers.

It was Trystan’s turn, and he was keen on finding an old book of sorts. He insisted on a leather novel of yellowed papers and annotated lines, with intricate Victorian details along the spine. Trystan paused, exhilarated at the antique booth before him. Forgotten scrapbooks, noir polaroids, rotten thrown-away cameras, and fringed lamps cornered him with an enticement to explore. 

Emily wandered around the opposite side of the market, searching for nearby food vendors. A strange harmony bubbled inside her; a soft scent, a beam from the clouded sun. She breathed in the scent of chestnuts and red wine, a wintry chill slipping through her bones. Silver bells danced in the December wind, faces greeting each other with a blissful smile. It was a perfect moment, a painting from her own eyes. 

On the sidewalk stood a white-haired woman in a vibrant Christmas sweater, her cane tapping the frozen ground. Breaths escaped her parted lips in subtle clouds of white. Trystan’s words repeated in Emily’s head, a determination settling within her. This was peace and contentment; the mundanity of a random December afternoon. 

“Excuse me, ma’am, do you need help?” 

“Yes, please!” 

“Careful of the curb, here we go!”

The woman held onto the cane, her other hand wrapped around Emily’s. Her heart burst at the scene developing around her. Laughs and joyous days echoed around her, the wind so sweet she gulped for more. 

“Hear that? That’s a florist laughing, he has crinkly eyes! A booth that smells like eucalyptus and rose is selling crystals and botanical postcards. The food truck across them is selling lollipops and hot cocoa for children. A farmer’s booth has rows of persimmons, oranges, and tangerines. Next to the fruits, a baby is watching her dad throw his hat in the air. We’re at the end of the market, there’s a bookstore and a vinyl shop in front of us. I’ll leave you here, goodbye!” 

The elderly woman struck out a pleased laugh, touched by moments folding around her. Memories of today fell like dominoes, scattering about like new snow. Her cheeks shined pink as Emily cradled her hand, stilling the woman’s trembling fingers. 

“Have a good day,” She whispered before walking off. 

“Wait,” The woman called out, “Are you hungry? Let me get you something to eat!” * * * *

Emily and the white-haired woman split an orange and two empanadas on a quiet bench. Emily, of course, contently peeled the oranges in thirds, ignoring the pith underneath her nails. 

Familiarity struck her as she handed the woman an orange. Her father’s willow-leaved eyes resembled the stranger’s. Perhaps in another life, Jimmy Rose grew old and never walked the wistful grounds of Box Thirty-Two. To breathe with wrinkled skin and grey hairs, lines creasing about his lips and forehead.  

“What’s your name?”

“Diana.” 

“I’m Emily,” she hid the third orange wedge in her coat pocket, “Do you like the food?” 

“I love it,” Diana grinned, “God, that vendor was beautiful, wasn’t she?” 

Emily gulped, taken aback, “How could you tell?” 

The other woman laughed and patted her lap, “Partial blindness. I can only see things if I’m up close.” 

“Oh!” Emily blushed awkwardly, “I’m sorry – I didn’t-” 

“Don’t worry.” 

“But, er, yes, the vendor was beautiful.” 

Diana perked up, casting an amused grin, “Are you a lesbian?” 

“Bisexual. And my boyfriend wanted to check this market out. He’s looking for…I dunno, some silly trinket to take home, and I told him I’d get us some food. Are you…also…?” 

Diana nodded. 

“How old are you?” 

“Sixty-eight. And you?” 

“Twenty-eight,” Diana winced. 

“Don’t worry, it does get better.” 

Emily shrugged, unconvinced. Her bones were brittle as if made of glass, jaded memories of Drakovia hitting her like violent waves against a sandy beach. Grief thrashed inside her head so intensely she’d wake up in the night, begging for air. There was avoiding it, no going under or over it. Whether she’d acknowledge it or not, trauma and grief permeated her life. 

“When?” Emily asked innocently, her eyes burning. Diana scooted slightly closer, resting her wrinkled hand over Emily’s. 

“When does it get better?” Emily nodded, cringing at her childish question, “However long it takes. Eventually…it’ll pass.” 

It had been sixteen years. Sixteen lonely years, and it had, indeed, not passed. She swore that she’d be done with everything by twenty. That foolish promise broke, and twenty-eight was no different than twenty. All that was left of Jimmy Rose’s legacy was a cruel memory. 

“It’s been almost twenty years. I don’t think it will.” 

Emily gritted her teeth ruefully, furrowing her fingers into her hands until they became beet red. With a blink of an eye, she was no longer the famed private detective who took down the Heartache Killer; but a tall child with no father. 

“Oh, Emily,” Diana cooed, “I’m so sorry. But that’s simply not true,” She murmured, struggling to find the right words, “Nothing lasts forever. Things pass, lives go on, and it feels fucking awful when you’re…stuck. But when we are stuck, all we have is each other. To get by, at least.” 

Emily’s walls began crumbling. Her hands instinctively covered her face, sheltering herself from the world. Diana granted her some space, moving closer to the other end of the bench. 

“I’m sorry,” Emily rubbed her face, grasping at anything to change the subject. With a pained sigh, she uttered, “Y’know, I don’t really like Christmas. I just–I’m just here because of a stupid tradition.” 

“I don’t either,” Diana said, “But my wife loved it. Every year, God bless her soul, she’d always cook the worst beef wellington ever!” Diana with a familiar gleefulness, “I’d always eat it. I mean, it was atrocious and entirely raw, but she cooked it. Made with love…and absolutely no seasoning. I would do anything to have it this year.” 

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Emily whispered, “Her wellington must’ve made your day. My dad took me to Rockefeller Square every year until he passed. I always thought he was a king for that,” She chuckled, “I remember seeing it for the first time. I didn’t even know trees got that big.” 

“He sounds like an amazing Dad. I’m so sorry he was lost to you.” 

“Thank you. I try to remember the good things about him. It helps keep his spirit alive.” 

Inklets of snow trailed down and stained their hair, solemness in the wind. Emily cleared her throat, pushing past the silence. 

“Can you tell me more about your wife?” 

“Of course,” Diana beamed, “Her name was Dani. She lived in the apartment next to mine. She was an amazing pianist. I’d always hear her playing through the walls. One day, I knocked on her door and asked if I could listen to her.” 

“Do you remember what song she played?” 

“Yes! It was, hm, ‘Camptine?’ No – ‘Comptine d’un autre été.’ You really should listen to it sometime.” 

“I’ll hold you to that…how long were you two together?” 

“Twenty years and ninety-eight days – but who’s counting? We were completely different and so unlike,” Diana’s face grew serious, “And she was so different in the end, too. It’s odd to see someone die when they’re already gone and so, so small.”

Emily fiddled with her hands, jaws clenched, “I’m so sorry, Diana. I can’t imagine losing–” She choked on a small pit in her throat, “I just can’t imagine a loss like that.” 

“Thank you. The two of us had an amazing life. We really, really did. I mean – sometimes I still see her, even in little things, I still feel her with me.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I see her everywhere,” Diana’s lips quivered, “I see her when it rains, and I think of the song she played for me when we first met. I saw La Traviata last summer, and all I thought about was her. Whenever I walk by a deli, I think of her God-awful beef wellington and cry.” 

A glint of doubt shimmered in Emily’s eye. Uncertainty twisted her insides, striking with fierce ripples of despair and mourning. 

“Listen to me,” Diana said sternly, “One day at a time is all we got. So go on and live. But, when the time does come…kiss his forehead, rub his feet, and play a song that reminds you of him. It will be hard, and I don’t think it will ever go away completely. But I promise – after some time, you’ll wake up and feel, maybe not better, but as if you’ve adjusted to the pain of it all. And then it won’t hurt so much.” 

A surge of preemptive grief washed over Emily, though tears never flooded her eyes. The burdens of the past and deaths of the future weren’t gone, but instead quiet and still in her mind. Death is only a moment, a bitter soul slipping into the next room. Two words repeated in Emily’s head until she was content. 

“Thank you. I never thought of it that way…thank you.” 

Easy silence lay upon them, the words shared by each other warm in their throats. Flurries of unknown faces passed by, snowflakes tangling in their hair with ease. Spotting Trystan in the crowd of strangers, Emily greeted the mischievous smirk on his face, hands tucked behind his back. 

“Hey partner,” Trystan kissed the top of Emily’s head, “And who’s this?” 

“I’m Diana…and you must be the boyfriend Emily was telling me about!” 

“Oh, yeah? What’d she tell you?” 

“Your deepest and darkest secrets, obviously,” Emily deadpanned, “...You hiding something back there?” 

With a smug grin, Trystan unveiled a wrapped gift. He chuckled, “You’ll see! I’ll show you later.” 

“Hey, I also got you something!” Emily grabbed the orange slice from her pocket, wiping away tiny beads of lint. Trystan’s face lit up, mouth agape. 

“I love you. Thank you,” Trystan pecked her forehead once more before biting into the citrus, “And it was lovely meeting you, Diana. I hope Emily didn’t tell you every secret of mine.” Diana laughed, shaking his hand. 

“Of course not. And Emily?” She whispered into her ear, “Remember what you’re here for.”

* * * *

“Do I seriously need to be blindfolded for this?” 

“I mean,” He pressed his hands tight against Emily’s covered eyes, “Yeah, you do.” 

Emily grumbled, rolling her eyes through the thick wad of fabric tied around her head. A week had passed since she met Diana, and all that was in her mind were her tender words. Emily fixed her pout, forcing a tooth-shining smirk as Trystan led her across the apartment. 

“The things I do for you.” 

“Careful, darling,” Trystan gently moved her away from hitting the coffee table, “And sit…err, right here!” 

“Can I take the blindfold off now?” 

“Not yet!” 

Sounds of scuffling surrounded her, and Emily grew curious. Trystan had been hiding something since the trip to the market. Whenever she’d mentioned it, he’d waggle a finger to his lips and utter gibberish. 

Emily scoffed, amused, “Is this about that thing you got last week?” Trystan snickered with a childlike excitement. 

“...Maybe.” 

The tussling stopped, and Trystan sat beside her. Resting a hand on her thigh, he grinned, “Okay! You can take it off now.” 

“Oh…my God!” 

A leatherbound scrapbook and a dainty film camera plastered with Hello Kitty stickers sat across them. Colorful children’s doodles scuffed the book cover, crayons covering every inch. Squiggly letters in blue and red revealed the title: RoSe fAmilY aDveNtureS. Emily gasped, flooded with faint memories of her father. With flushed cheeks, she turned to Trystan and gawked. 

“Trystan!” Emily squealed, “You found this last week?” 

“Mhm,” He bobbed his head, “I showed it to Tommy to make sure. He said he must’ve accidentally donated it while cleaning up the attic. It…may or may not have taken me a long time to figure out how to use the camera – but it works! I’ll hook it up to the TV, okay?” 

“I fucking love you.” 

Emily and Trystan flipped page after page, soaking in long-forgotten moments of Emily’s past. At the top of each page contained a laminated label. Little Emily as San, Halloween 2002. Trip to Luzon, June 2005. Fluffernutters and Chocolate Rocks! 

Stacks of polaroids were taped against each other, smiles and blissful memories in every photo. One quickly seized Trystan’s attention. ‘2001’ was written at the hem of the photo. At the center, a pigtailed Emily smiled widely at the camera, boasting her half-eaten yan yan. 

“God,” Emily grazed her thumb over the polaroid, “I can’t believe you found this.” 

“Me too. Maybe we can look through Tommy’s attic sometime. There has to be other scrapbooks we can find.” 

“Can we look through the camera now?” 

“Of course, dear.” 

Emily grinned at Trystan, warmed by his gift. It’d been years since her heart grew so fondly, a quiet ease running through her body. Her bones were, indeed, not made of glass. She was not brittle and weak, but rather brimming with love and sentiment. Pain and sorrow were in her veins, too, yet on this still and snowy morning, Emily was at peace. 

* * * * A/N: This fic was both such a pain and so nice to write lol. I wanted to give a little thank you to @jerzwriter @lexicook74-blog and @logolepzy for helping me edit this fic! Thank you all so much for your feedback, I appreciate you all SO much.

Tags: @choicesprompts @choicesholidays @choicesficwriterscreations @jerzwriter @logolepzy @mooserii @starsarewithinme @jonathanmoores @shadyinternetblizzard @urcowboyboyfriend @lexicook74-blog @leahtine @jahrobin @icarusfallsforever @kyra75 @calisomnia (let me know if else would like to be added to my crimes tag!)

[aria-ashryver]

Breakfast Roast

Book: Immortal Desires

Pairing: m!Cas x m!Gabe x nb!MC (Luca O'Rinn)

Ratings/Warnings: General, language

Words: 1K

Summary: Gabriel can't resist teasing Cas and Luca over morning coffee.

A/N: I got this super cute ask, and as I was thinking about how to answer it, somehow I blinked and a little fic happened? So here you go! Someone once told me the Starlight trio was the Idiots to Lovers trope and I couldn't agree more. This is just a little slice of Starlight Idiot Hours / Fluff in a nutshell, set a few years after the events of SICSIG

Tagging: @choicesficwriterscreations, @lilyoffandoms

Things were going alarmingly well for a Monday. Gabriel had completed his morning jog in record time, there hadn’t been a queue at the coffee shop, and he’d come away from his early-morning grocery run with a couple of unexpected little gifts in tow.

Cas was hunched over a bowl of cereal when Gabriel arrived back home, scrolling idly through his phone. He shot Gabriel a sleepy grunt by way of greeting as he set the bags down on the kitchen counter. The morning sun slanted cheery and gold through the open window, bringing with it the smell of fresh spring pollen and the droning buzz of bees.

Content, Gabriel stole a moment to inhale the sharp scent of the freshly roasted coffee beans he’d picked up. He flipped the coffee machine on to heat, and began to unload the groceries.

‘They were out of hot sauce, darling.’

‘Fucking again? Arson.’

Gabriel shook his head in fond exasperation. ‘They said it’d be back in stock next week.’

Cas grumbled, low in his throat like a churlish cat. ‘…Less arson.’

Gabriel laughed. He loved hearing Cas like this; all snarly and husky, his voice deep and gravelly with sleep, yet light and unburdened of anything but the most mundane of trifles. Cas deserved mundane. He deserved domestic and peaceful and happy. Gabriel could listen to him grouse about grocery stores forever.

Even after years of waking up next to Cas, it never got old.

Huh, Gabriel thought, bemused. That’s vampirism for you.

Mellifluous laughter filled the room as Luca bounded in from the hallway.

‘Less arson, huh? However will you cope?’ Dropping a kiss on Cas’s cheek as they passed, Luca skidded into the kitchen, their threadbare socks slick against the linoleum, sliding along until they bumped cheerily into Gabriel’s side. ‘Good morning gorgeous!’

‘Good morning to you too, mi corazón.’

Gabriel dipped his head to meet him; Luca’s kisses tasted of peppermint toothpaste and pure adoration.

‘I come bearing carbs,’ Gabriel said, handing them a greased paper bag, laughing at the muffled “oh my god, I love you” he managed to decipher from a mouth somehow already crammed full with an over-ambitious bite of cinnamon roll.

Luca leaned against the counter, eyes sinking closed in sugary delight.

‘And gifts!’ Gabriel added, eyeing his two loves carefully.

Cas was barely awake, slouching about in his favourite sweatpants and one of Gabriel’s bathrobes, knuckling the sleep from his eyes. Luca’s hair stuck up at awkward angles, a smear of frosting clinging to their lip.

The pair of them were far too cute not to tease.

‘I got you a little something,’ Gabriel said carefully, casually, his mouth twitching at the corners. ‘Just there on the counter.’

He nodded at a small white box he’d set down on the counter, tucked between a potted plant and a carton of eggs. Cas shambled up to join them, slumping into a seat on the barstools with a jaw-cracking yawn. He stole a bite of Luca’s cinnamon roll as they plopped down beside him.

‘Wait, “you”, who?’ Luca asked.

Gabriel shrugged evasively, already enjoying himself far too much.

Cas’s eyes narrowed. The pair shared a suspicious glance, before Cas flipped the box open, pulling out the white ceramic mug inside.

He barked a laugh.

‘“Cute but dumb”?’

Luca snorted. ‘Well, that’s obviously for me,’ they said, reaching for the mug.

Cas jerked it out of Luca’s reach. ‘Well, hang on just a goddamn minute, O'Rinn. Who’s to say it’s not for me?’

‘Since when have you let anyone call you “cute”?’

‘Wha— I’m cute,’ Cas pouted. ‘I’m fuckin’ adorable!’

‘Cas, you’re six foot three, you’re covered in tattoos, and you threatened to fistfight a vending machine yesterday when it chewed up your dollar.’

‘Exactly.’

When Luca broke into a peal of derisive laughter, Cas cocked his head.

‘What makes you the default cute one in our relationship, huh? Being two foot tall?’ Cas crossed his arms, fixing Luca with a smug grin. ‘I’m surprised you can even see over the counter from all the way down there, New Kid.’

‘Oh! Short jokes now!’ Luca snarled. ‘Very funny. Ha ha.’

‘Yeah, I thought so.’

‘Won’t be laughing when I headbutt you in the dick,’ Luca muttered.

‘Woah, hang on a minute.’

Cas set the mug down, raising his hands in gentle placation. Gabriel allowed himself a small moment to be impressed — Cas, done with goading Luca after a bare few minutes?

That had to be some kind of record.

‘…let me find you a stepladder first.’

‘Oh, fuck you, Harlow!’

Ah. Apparently not.

Gabriel sorted some lettuce and avocados into the vegetable crisper, stowing away groceries while Luca attempted to shove Cas directly off his bar stool. He turned and fixed Gabriel with a bargaining look.

‘Gabe. Tell him it's mine. You think I’m cute, right?’

‘Of course I do.’

Gabriel’s smile turned coy as he poured the fresh coffee beans into the grinder and flipped it on, plucking up another bag of groceries to unload. The kitchen was quickly filled with the aromatic, chocolatey smell of his favourite arabica blend.

‘I think you’re both cute.’

‘Ha!’

‘Yeah, but— oh, shut up, Cas. Oi!’

Luca smacked Cas’s arm as he tried to steal a triumphant bite of their cinnamon roll.

‘But,’ Luca pressed, ‘out of the two of us, only one was so invested in a conversation they were having this morning in their own head, with themself that they walked head-first into a fucking doorframe, ergo—’

Luca snagged the mug, holding it proudly next to his face.

‘—I have clearly achieved peak idiot and this mug is mine. Hey!’

Gabriel stifled a laugh as Luca gaped at their now empty hands. He hummed idly to himself as Cas and Luca sprang from their seats, wrestling with each other in a desperate bid for "Cute but Dumb"-mug-ownership rights.

He passed a pleasant few minutes as the coffee brewed and Cas tried to stuff Luca inside his bathrobe — he was usually more of a tea drinker, in all honesty, but as this morning was proving, sometimes it was nice to indulge in the things that made you smile.

Love burgeoning in his heart, Gabriel finally deigned to unpack the second mug he’d purchased that morning, right as the coffee was done.

‘Gimme the mug,' Luca hissed.

‘No.’

‘Ass. Gimme the mug!’

‘Fight me!’

Gabriel cleared his throat, his expression carefully neutral. ‘Coffee, anyone?’

Cas and Luca froze mid-grapple, eyes locked on the second mug on the counter.

“Cute but dumber”.

Moving in tandem, they rounded on each other, challenge on both of their faces.

‘Well that one’s obviously for me!’

[gaiuskamilah]

together again

imtura x elyon (she/her)

timelapse + stuff under the cut

their height is skewed for art purposes but realistically i envision their height difference like this ⬇️ lol

tags | @choicesficwriterscreations

[talasintahan]

tyril x runaan for @roxybirdie as part of the choices gift exchange! runaan is roxy's :]

[choicesficwriterscreations]

CFWC LGBTQIA Masterlist - Jan 2024

✒️ = Fanfic | 📱= Text Fics/Edits | 🎨= Fanart Ⓜ️ = Mature Content 18+ | 🔥 = Explicit/NSFW 18+ 🏳️‍🌈 = LGBTQIA | 🌟Choices Holidays 2023

ACROSS THE VOID

Captain Pandrosion Elara 🎨🏳️‍🌈🔹 | Sol, Meridian, Kepler, Pedrosian by @/artbyainna (IG) (C: @lilyoffandoms)

Sol x MC Fanart 🎨🏳️‍🌈 by @oh-so-youre-a-nerd

BLADES OF LIGHT AND SHADOW

Aerin Valleros x M!elf!MC Fanart 🎨🏳️‍🌈 by @oh-so-youre-a-nerd

Aerin Valleros x OC Fanart 🎨🏳️‍🌈 by @oh-so-youre-a-nerd

Blades Fanfic ✒️🏳️‍🌈| Tyril x elf!mc x Mal x f!human!mc - @storyofmychoices

Healing Herbs 🎨🏳️‍🌈 🔹| f!Aerin Valleros x MC by @gaiuskamilah

Springs Eternal 🎨🏳️‍🌈 🔹| Mal Volari x MC - @gaiuskamilah

Tyril Starfury x MC 🎨🏳️‍🌈🔹by @gaiuskamilah

BLOODBOUND

Bloodbound MC Fanart 🎨🏳️‍🌈🔹by @vampirkit

CRIMES OF PASSION

Gabriel Rose 🎨🏳️‍🌈🔹by @lilyoffandoms

THE CURSED HEART

Kieran x MC Fanart 🎨Ⓜ️🏳️‍🌈 by @oh-so-youre-a-nerd (C: @lilyoffandoms)

ENDLESS SUMMER

Grandchildren: Leonel 🎨🏳️‍🌈| Estela Montoya x MC - @marmolady

HIGH SCHOOL STORY

Aiden Zhou x MC Fanart 🎨🏳️‍🌈 by @hydn-jpg for @cadybear420

IMMORTAL DESIRES

Breakfast Roast ✒️🏳️‍🌈| m!Cas x m!Gabriel x NB!MC - @aria-ashryver

Cas Harlow Fanart 2🎨🏳️‍🌈🔹by @aallotarenunelma

Immortal Desires Fanart ✒️🏳️‍🌈 | m!Cas x m!Gabriel x NB!MC - @aria-ashryver

Immortal Desires MC Fanart 🎨 🏳️‍🌈 by @lilyoffandoms for @aria-ashryver

Immortal Desires NB!MC Fanart 🎨🏳️‍🌈 by @lilyoffandoms for @aallotarenunelma

Snow in Crimson, Starlight in Gold (Series) ✒️Ⓜ️🏳️‍🌈| m!cas x m!gabe x m!mc - @aria-ashryver Chapter 38: Heaven is Not Fit to House a Love Like You and I

IT LIVES SERIES

Abel Flint Fanart 🎨🏳️‍🌈🔹by @aallotarenunelma

Lincoln McQuoid x M!MC Fanart 🎨🏳️‍🌈 by @somewillwin (C: @linkysmommy)

No Second Chances ✒️🏳️‍🌈🟣| Lincoln Aquino (McQuoid) x M!MC - @linkysmommy

Noah Marshall x M!MC Fanart 🎨🏳️‍🌈by @errajay

Snowed in at the Cabin ✒️🏳️‍🌈🌟| Lincoln McQuoid x NB!MC - @aallotarenunelma

Spirit, Stay Gentle (1/2) ✒️Ⓜ️🏳️‍🌈| Lincoln McQuoid x M!MC - @abelflints

The Rainbow Recipe Book ✒️🏳️‍🌈🔹 by @aallotarenunelma

LAWS OF ATTRACTION

Hold Me Close ✒️🏳️‍🌈🔹| Gabe Ricci x M!MC - @choicesmc

Serving Cunt and Justice 🎨🏳️‍🌈| Multiple Characters by @oh-so-youre-a-nerd

OPEN HEART

Countdown to 2024 🎨🏳️‍🌈🌟| OH F!MC, OH F!OC, OH F!MC2 art by @/artbyainna (IG) (C: @lilyoffandoms for @storyofmychoices @jerzwriter)

Halloween (Series) ✒️🏳️‍🌈| OH M!MC - @mydemonsdrivealimo Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

"I'll pour... Now tell me more!" ✒️🏳️‍🌈🔹| Bryce Lahela, F!MC - @jerzwriter

THE ROYAL ROMANCE

Anything But Common (Series) ✒️🏳️‍🌈| Hana Lee & MC - @silvermillenniumqueenneptune Magical Misadventures in Miscellany

Unexpected (Series) ✒️Ⓜ️🏳️‍🌈🔹| Liam x Maxwell x Riley - @angelasscribbles Chapter 12: The Beginning

VEIL OF SECRETS

Jeff Duffy x MC Fanart 🎨🏳️‍🌈 by @oh-so-youre-a-nerd

[vampirkit]

AMY DEATHFIC!!! enjoy :))

Book: Bloodbound

Character: Kamilah x Amy (and sorta Gaius x Kamilah)

Words: 2.5k

Rating: Teen

TW: Major character death

Little sneak peak under the cut

Two millennia taught Kamilah Sayeed everything she knows: the best locations for daggers in her formal wear, the intricate details of each and every flower, and the perfect amount of blood to take before a human collapses.

It didn't prepare her, though, for the weight of her past—the constant building and pressing on her shoulders as the years tick by.

Sometimes she is sure she has lived too long, nothing is supposed to live this long. Other times, she knows this is her punishment. Whatever cruel thing pulling the strings cursed her with immortality, and keeps her alive to atone for the blood drowning her past. It’s all a matter of time, really, to be subject to the same fate she put so many others through. A cycle of bloodshed flowing through her fingertips. At first, she invited the rush of power, reveled in it; but now, she stands helpless as it punishes her defiance.

There was a time when Amy convinced her otherwise: among twinkling starlight and the soft, crashing waves, she insisted, “You deserve to be surrounded by love and happiness.” Moonlight cascaded over the girl’s features, and she looked so bright, so sure. For a moment, it had the vampire fooled.

Now, Amy lies as proof she deserves this.

Keep reading here

[storyofmychoices]

Beneath the Mistletoe

[Mal Volari x Daenarya Blades 1 + Beyond] [Mal’s Orphanage] [Mal Volari x Daenarya Blades 2 AU]

Pairings: Maiele (@lilyoffandoms) x Daenarya; Tyril x Mal, with Mal Volari x Daenarya and Tyril Starfury x Maiele Nightbloom Book: Blades of Light and Shadow Word Count: ~600 Rating/Warnings: Teen

Synopsis: Daenarya and Maiele find themselves beneath the mistletoe.

This gorgeous art of my Daenarya and @lilyoffandoms's Maiele is by the ever lovely @callmebeem. I absolutely adore how it came out. These two deserve a special holiday moment and they look so good doing so!

Lily, I hope you enjoy this as much as I do! I adore you so, so much! Sending you all the hugs & love, today and always! Merry Christmas!

Tagging: Christmas: @choicesdecember2023, @choicesficwriterscreations, @choicesholidays, @choicesflashfics (Holiday Prompt in bold)

Daenarya stood perched on a milk crate, trying to secure a sprig of mistletoe above the archway to the living room. She glanced around, hoping someone would notice. 

Maiele, catching her subtle attempt, stepped forward, offering his assistance. His touch was gentle as he held her hips, his thumbs caressing her softly.

Standing on her tiptoes with Maiele's hands guiding her, she successfully hung the floral ornamentation. 

"Thank you," Daenarya offered softly, remaining close to him. She chewed her lower lip, her gaze glancing back up at the mistletoe. "Look, there’s mistletoe. We have to kiss, it’s the law."

"Is that so?" Maiele teased, a playful glint in his eyes. "A human law, I presume? I'm not familiar with it."

"Oh, well, it is a very well-known and important rule," she insisted, feigning a coy grin. 

"In that case—" Maiele's hand cradled the back of her neck, drawing her in for a gentle, tender kiss beneath the mistletoe. Their lips met softly as he savored the notes of cinnamon and vanilla, reminiscent of the cookies she'd been baking earlier.

Daenarya leaned into the kiss, wrapping her arms around Maiele's neck, pressing deeper, the heat between them rising. Her footing slipped as she forgot her surroundings; the milkcrate teetered beneath her shifting weight, but Maiele was there to guide her safely back to the ground in his careful embrace.

The pair parted for a moment, catching their breath. Shared laughter slipped between them.

"We appear to still be beneath the mistletoe," Maiele noted, not ready to let her go so quickly. 

Daenarya nodded, a mischievous smile spreading on her face. "So we are." 

Their lips met again as they stayed in the moment, enjoying the comfort they found in one another. 

❤️ 💚 ❤️ 💚 ❤️ 💚

Mal turned the corner, his mouth falling, catching sight of Daenarya and Maiele locked in an intimate embrace. The surprise etched across his face swiftly gave way to a subtle downturn of his lips. He knew they shared a connection, but still, he felt a pang of jealousy... or was it envy?

Tyril watched the rogue in amusement, arms folded, leaning against the wall. "Is this not what you wanted for them?"

"Yes, but they could be a little less... I don't know... passionate about it," Mal complained. "Look at them!"

A moan slipped from Daenarya's lips. 

"Did you hear that?" His eyes widened.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you—" His tone held a teasing edge as he continued, "—although I do understand the sentiment."

Mal huffed through pouty lips, folding his arms across his chest. "It's not jealousy, it’s just... an observation."

Tyril raised a brow, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Of course, just keen observation, I'm certain that's all." He pushed himself off the wall. In three quick strides, he stood before Mal. "However, if you find their display disconcerting, perhaps a diversion is in order." His long fingers danced lightly up Mal's arm. 

"What did you have in mind?" The rogue questioned, his tone faltering. His gaze traced the elf's lips without hesitation, enjoying the sudden closeness between them. His thoughts of Daenarya and Maiele faded away. He stifled a chuckle, it was envy after all, but not for much longer, at least he hoped.

"I simply mean—" Tyril leaned closer, his voice a whisper in Mal's ear. "—sometimes, distractions can be quite beneficial." 

Without another word, the elf's lips crashed against Mal's, swallowing whatever witty retort the rogue had hoped to express. He relished how easily the man melted beneath his touch. Maiele and Daenarya could have their mistletoe, Tyril didn't need it. He could get Mal exactly where he wanted with nothing more than a look, and that's exactly how he liked it. 

I hope you like this, @lilyoffandoms and it's not too much. It was going to be a sweeter kiss between them but Beem showed me a sketch for this with them looking more intimate and I just couldn't say no because look at them!