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unsettlingconclusions · 2 months

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Winds of Change

Pairing: Hana Lee x MC (Riley) Summary: Hana sings a lullaby as the whispering wind sighs. Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort. Rating: G Word Count: 830 Notes: In celebration of Hana Lee Appreciation Week 2024. This is an appreciation of Hana's loving nature. It was supposed to be a drabble, but I may have got carried away. It was also supposed to be pure fluff, but I can only do so much without letting the angst seep through. Written while listening to Chinese Traditional: East Chinese Lullaby(Erhu & String Quartet). I recognize it's been a long while since folks have asked me to tag them, so if you're not interested, please just ignore me. Tags: @hanaleeappreciationweek @lizzybeth1986 @sazanes @twinkleallnight @tessa-liam @choicesficwriterscreations

Shì shàng zhí yǒu mā ma hǎo

A tender breeze blows through the room, moving the curtains like gentle waves drawing its shadows in the room, seemingly following the soft melody cutting through the silence of the night. A string of direct moonlight makes its way in, bathing in silver gleam two dancing figures completely enthralled by each other.

Méi mā de hái zi xiàng gēn cǎo

The whispering wind lures Riley in, who finds herself bewitched by scene. She doesn’t know the words being sang, but the warmth of Hana’s smooth melodic voice makes her feel like she was being offered a hot chocolate on a cold night. Hana is cradling Aurora while rocking them back and forth as the baby coos and grabs randomly at Hana’s face with her chubby hands, fascinated by the sound of Hana’s voice.

Lí kāi mā ma de huái bào

Resting herself against the doorframe, Riley barely utters, “You are so beautiful.”

“She is beautiful”, Hana smiles like a beam of light, never taking her eyes off Aurora. She shifts a little, securing Aurora’s sleepy head on her left shoulder and gesturing towards Riley with her other arm. “Come here.”

Xìng fú nǎ lǐ zhǎo

Riley tiptoes towards them as quietly as she can, not missing any chance to wrap her arms around her two favorite people. As she presses her chest against Hana’s back, she places a quick kiss to her wife’s temple and caresses Aurora’s baby head, tightening her grip instinctively when she’s hit by the sweet mixture of Hana’s floral perfume and that adorable baby scent.

The three of them sway together to the sound of Hana’s humming for a while, until Aurora’s breathing becomes heavy and rhythmic. “I think she fell asleep”, Hana hushes, as she turns around in Riley’s embrace.

“What were you singing right now?” Riley moves a strand of hair away from Hana’s face. “It sounded comforting.”

“It’s a song my grandma used to sing to me when I was little”, Hana shifts Aurora again, now resting the baby’s head on the nook of her elbow as she moves towards the crib. “It talks about how a child will find happiness with their mother”.

The change was almost imperceptible to anyone else, but to Riley the slight change to a more flat tone in Hana’s voice wasn’t missed. She heard the other woman inhale just a little bit deeper as she fondly settled Aurora on the crib.

“Can you translate it to me?”

“Of course. Sit here with me.” Hana motions for the couch at the corner of the room and waits for Riley to join her before she starts reciting.

“Mommy is the best in the world. With a mom you have the most valuable treasure. Jump into your mom's heart. And you will find happiness! Mommy is the best in the world. Without your mom, you are like a blade of grass. Away from your mom's heart, where will you find happiness?”

“You miss your grandma a lot, don’t you?”

Hana just nods, “Nǎi nai meant a lot to me.”

“I am sure she’s proud of the mom you’re becoming.”

The breeze picks up in strength, invading the room a bit more fiercely for no more than a couple of seconds, its swishing working well for muffling the sound of Hana’s sharp intake of breath. But Hana’s shivering can’t be disguised, and Riley pulls her wife down to her lap, covering the woman with a blanket that rested at the corner of the couch.

“Aurora is so lucky to have you as a mom”, Riley adds, running her fingers through the length of Hana’s hair, only to come back to her scalp and do it all over again. “You’re smart and compassionate, and you’re so warm and loving. I can see you holding her up when she’s learning to walk, and celebrating every new word she spouts. And when she gets older and awed by everything, just like you are, you’ll teach whatever she wants to learn, when she wants to learn. You’ll be there for her when she needs you and won’t make her do anything she doesn’t want to.”

A few seconds tick by after Riley’s proclamation, the curtains swayed like a pole flag the only indication of the passage of time until a gentle sniff cuts through the monotony, “Whatever she wants to learn?”

“Whatever!”, Riley replies animatedly waving her hands through the air before finding Hana’s and intertwining their fingers together.

“She will find a lot of happiness in your heart”.

Hana inhales sharply again, but this time, instead of the quiet tears welling up in her eyes, the corners of them crinkle, soon followed by the corners of her mouth turning up in a relaxed smile.

Outside the wind kept stirring, rustling the leaves leisurely. Inside, the love for Aurora stirred so many emotions inside Hana, and she couldn’t wait for all the transformation she was bound to bring in. ____________________

Additional notes: a. The lullaby and its pinyin were taken from this place. If you're Chinese and I got it wrong, please let me know.

b. This was inspired by 2 haikus about the wind:

1. A Gentle Breeze Whispering wind sighs Leaves rustle in sweet embrace Nature's lullaby 2. Winds of Change Wind whispers softly Stirring dreams of transformation Hope for new chapters

Thanks for reading!

#hana lee appreciation week #HLAW #HLAW Day 1 #hana x mc #hana lee #hana lee x mc #mc x hana lee #choices stories you play #the royal romance

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sfb123 · 1 year

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Hands Down - Prologue

Pairing: Liam x Riley

All characters belong to Pixelberry

Summary: Can Liam and Riley still find their way to each other despite Riley turning down Maxwell's invitation to Cordonia?

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,945

Song Inspiration: Hands Down - Dashboard Confessional

A/N: I am participating in @kingliamappreciationweek Day 5 (Friendships/Relationships/AU, all of which apply to this prologue), as well as @choicesflashfics Week 29, "That's all we/they are now. A memory. A faded picture. A failed potential." It will appear in bold below.

A/N 2: It's been a minute since I've posted anything, let alone started a new series. I've had bits and pieces of this story forever, but could never figure out how to put it all together. Then my aunt died (IYKYK), and I've been working on this ever since.

A/N 3: Thank you to those of you that I have been bombarding with ideas, snippets, and complaints. They're still going to be coming, probably now more than ever. But I appreciate you listening and humoring me. Especially @txemrn for looking over this prologue and making sure it was okay.

Tagging my usuals, if you'd like to be added or removed just let me know!

Liam was in a daze as he returned to his hotel suite, still thinking about her. They had only spent a couple of hours together, but it was all Liam needed to know that he was destined for so much more with Riley Brooks.

He fell back onto the couch and pulled out his phone, texting Maxwell to see if he was still up, and if he would join Liam in his room. He was, and he would.

While he had his phone in his hand, he opened his camera roll and looked fondly at the picture that they had taken together. Liam told her that it was because he wanted to remember his trip to the Statue of Liberty, but more than that, it was because he wanted to remember her. Not that she wasn’t permanently imprinted on his mind the second they locked eyes, but he wanted to have a photo of her, to have tangible proof that she wasn’t a dream.

A knock at the door pulled Liam’s attention away from his screen. He stood, returning his phone to his pocket as he answered to find Maxwell grinning on the other side.

“Well well well. Have fun, your highness?” His friends crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe.

Liam chuckled, he couldn’t help it. “More than you know. Please, come in.” He moved aside and motioned toward the sitting area.

“Soooooo… tell me everything. You seemed pretty smitten, I’ve never seen you like that before!”

“Maxwell, I’ve never felt like that before. She’s incredible. I’ve never felt more carefree, more happy.” Liam sighed at the memories of his evening. “That’s why I need your help.”

Maxwell’s head tilted in confusion. “Me? What can I do?”

“Ramsford doesn’t have a sponsor for the social season, correct?” Maxwell nodded slowly, still not sure where this was going. “I want you to sponsor Riley, to bring her to Cordonia.”

“Liam… are you sure? I mean we’re not prepared for that. We weren’t expecting to sponsor anyone.” Maxwell hesitated. He wanted his friend to be happy, but he also knew his family’s financial state, and he wasn’t sure they would be able to support a sponsee.

“Maxwell, I know your house has been having some… difficulties financially since your father took ill. I would be more than happy to pay for anything she needs. Discreetly, of course.”

Maxwell studied Liam’s expression, he had never seen his friend like this before. The textbook definition of stoicism, the young prince was never one to show his emotions so openly. But now? He could see the desperation, the need clear as day on his friends face.

“You really have it bad for her, don’t you?”

“More than I ever thought possible.” Liam answered.

“I’ll find her tomorrow morning before I head back.” He patted his friend on the shoulder.

***

Liam stood in the receiving line greeting the suitors one by one. It was the first night of his social season, but all he could think about was her. She was all he had been able to think about since the night before.

I hope she had a safe trip.

She’s going to look so beautiful.

I wonder if she’s been thinking of me the way I’ve been thinking of her.

I need to move through this line faster. She’s in it somewhere, I need to see her again.

Before long, the final suitor dipped into a courtesy and made her way back to the party. Liam looked around the room. Perhaps she had just gotten caught up in something and didn’t make it to the receiving line in time.

“Liam? Is everything alright?”

He turned around, to respond. “Yes father, I was just taking everything in.”

Constantine chuckled. “Well, enjoy it son. This is all for you. It’s the beginning of a whole new chapter.”

Liam nodded, looking past his father to the bar where Maxwell was ordering a drink. “Father, if you’ll excuse me for a moment.” He didn’t wait for a response before stepping away.

“Maxwell.” Liam greeted his friend as he stood next to him at the bar.

“Oh, Liam. Hey!” Maxwell shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “Happy social season!” He held up his drink, smiling awkwardly.

“Where is she?” Liam asked, anxious to see her again.

“Riley?” Maxwell asked, trying to buy as much time as he could. Dreading having to deliver the news. “She… well, she’s not here.”

“Why not? It’s the first event of the season, is she running late?” Liam began rambling, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach. “Was there an issue getting her a gown? I could…”

“Liam,” Maxwell interrupted. “She’s not here as in, she’s not in Cordonia. She didn’t come.”

“What… why?”

That Morning

“Riley!” Maxwell jogged up to the familiar figure as she unlocked the door of the bar.

She turned to face him as the door opened. “Oh hey, Maxwell, right? Did you forget something last night?”

“No, I actually had a proposition for you.” Riley furrowed her brows. “Do you have a minute to talk?”

“Sure, come in. We don’t open for another hour, so I can spare a few.” She walked into the building, and he followed behind.

As she approached the bar, she pulled down one of the stools and signaled for him to sit. He took a seat and she stepped behind the bar, grabbing an apron and tying it around her waist.

“So, you and Liam seemed to hit it off last night.” Maxwell said, wanting to gauge Riley’s take on the evening. He wanted to make sure Liam didn’t misinterpret, or misunderstand her side of the outing.

A slow smile spread across Riley’s face, the same one Liam had on his the night before. That’s when he knew the feeling was very mutual.

“We did. I’ve never met anyone like him before. Hell, I didn’t think guys like him existed in real life. I hope whoever wins that social season realizes how lucky they are.” She said wistfully.

Maxwell grinned, this was going better than he had hoped. “What if you were the one to win it?”

“Ha-ha, yeah right.” She replied, shaking her head and turning to empty the dishwasher.

“No, I’m serious.” He assured her. “Each noble house sponsors a suitor. Since we don’t have any sisters we can pick whoever we want. And I pick you!”

Riley froze and turned back around looking at Maxwell with a shocked expression. “You,” she pointed at him. “Want me,” she turned her finger to point at herself. “To come with you to a county I only just found out about like twelve hours ago, to join some fancy royal version of The Bachelor to try to marry a prince?”

“I wasn’t going to word it quite like that, but more or less.” He shrugged.

“But… why me?”

“Riley, Liam couldn’t stop talking about you. He was so happy last night. Happier than I’ve ever seen him, and we’ve known each other forever. His life is full of meetings, and stuffy dinners, and boring things he does because it’s his duty. He gets to break away and have fun sometimes, but those times are getting less and less now that he’s ramping up to become King. He’s such a good person, he puts everyone else ahead of himself. He deserves to be the kind of happy you make him all the time.”

Riley was silent, examining Maxwell’s expression. He seemed to be sincere. “Maxwell, that’s really sweet of you. Liam’s lucky to have a friend like you looking out for him.” She started. “But be realistic, even if I came with you, I’d have to quit both of my jobs and put school on hold. Basically quit my life to travel halfway across the world for the chance to be with Liam. It wouldn’t even be a guarantee.”

“He asked me to sponsor you!” Maxwell blurted out.

Riley’s breath caught in her throat, she hadn’t been expecting that. “But why? He doesn’t even know me.”

“He knows enough to believe that there could be something between you two.”

She blinked back the tears that had started to rise. She felt it too, but it was a major risk. Riley Brooks didn’t take risks. “Yeah, but even if I did come with you, that doesn’t mean anything. He told me about the social season, it’s not like he’s going to be able to just send the other girls home the second he sees me. Everyone gets a say, and I'm a nobody from America. I know nothing about your country. I don’t know about your customs. Hell, I don’t even like fancy foods, I’d probably make a fool of myself and be laughed out of the country at the first dinner.”

“But Riley…”

“Maxwell,” She reached across the bar, placing her hand over his. “You’re such a good friend to come here for him. But my answer is no. Maybe if we were in a different time, or a different place, but we’re here. These are the cards we were dealt, our lives are just too different for it to work.” She swallowed over the lump in her throat. “I need to get things set up to open. Have a safe trip back.” She turned and walked to the back, leaving Maxwell alone.

“I’m so sorry Liam. I tried, I really did.” Maxwell said sympathetically. He could see the pain in his friend’s eyes, despite his attempts to remain composed. “I don’t know if it helps or hurts, but she had the same dreamy look on her face when she talked about you that you had when you talked about her. Everything you felt last night, she felt it too.”

Liam cleared his throat, “Thank you Maxwell. It was a longshot, but I’m very grateful to you for trying. If you’ll excuse me.” He nodded solemnly to his friend before walking away, moving to the double doors that lead to the balcony.

He stepped outside and breathed a sigh of relief that he was alone. He approached the balustrade, leaning his forearms against it as he gazed out to the garden maze. He thought about Riley, what she was doing right now, if she missed him as much as he missed her.

Perhaps he had just gotten caught up in the magic of the evening, he had overromanticized their connection. He took his phone out of his pocket and pulled up their picture. He examined their faces, they both looked so happy. He placed his thumb and index finger on the screen, dragging them apart to zoom in on her face. He was trained to read people, and everything about her, both in that moment, and in the photo, told him that she had been feeling exactly what he had been. Even Maxwell had noticed it the next day when he went to talk to her.

It just hadn’t been enough.

“That's all we are now. A memory. A faded picture. A failed potential.” He lamented as he continued to stare down at the picture, remembering their night together.

“Liam.” His father’s short tone startled him so much that he nearly dropped his phone off of the balcony.

“Father,” he turned, discreetly returning his device to his pocket.

“What are you doing out here by yourself? You should be in there spending time with your suitors. The season is going to go by quickly, you need to take every opportunity to get to know your potential brides.”

“Yes father.” Liam closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to get Riley out of his mind.

**********

Permatag:

@3pawandme @alj4890 @busywoman @charlotteg234 @cordonia-gothqueen @cordoniaqueensworld @differenttyphoonwerewolf @emkay512 @foreverethereal123 @hopelessromanticmonie @iaminlovewithtrr @imashybish @kat-tia801 @kingliam2019 @malblk21 @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @nestledonthaveone @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @secretaryunpaid @sincerelyella @theroyalheirshadowhunter @tessa-liam @twinkleallnight @txemrn

Liam:

@amandablink @custaroonie @jared2612

TRR:

@21-wishes @ao719 @belencha777 @burnsoslow @lovingchoices14 @the0afnan @xpandass420x

@choicesficwriterscreations @choicesflashfics @kingliamappreciationweek @lizzybeth1986 @sazanes

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txemrn · 1 year

Text

Book: TRR/TRH (events actually occur in TRH Book 1)

Pairing: Liam x MC (Riley); Bertrand x Savannah

Word Count: ~2500

Warning: innuendos; a little language; fluffiness

A/N: I usually enjoy writing fairly angsty TRR material, but when I started gearing up for this past week's @kingliamappreciationweek, I decided I really wanted to write something new that wasn't so dramatic. So, I started thinking about how Liam is a history buff... and if y'all don't know this by now, I'm from Texas, and the thought of that tall glass of water knowing about my home state's history...whew... Give me a moment... This is pure silliness. It's a re-write of Bertrand's bachelor party/Savannah's bachelorette party, and it's just... silly. It does not follow canon very well. But, I hope you still enjoy it! Happy KLAW 2023, friends!

A/N 2: This is my submission for @choicesflashfics week 30! I will be using prompt 3: "That's how the story goes." It will be in bold.

A/N 3: These characters and some of the plot belong to our dear friends Pixelberry. This was not truly pre-read or beta'd. Please excuse my errors.

~👑~

"Alright, lil' ladies with the beautiful bride-to-be!" A burly bartender with a thick drawl and matching beard comes out from behind the counter, making his way to Savannah Walker's bachelorette party. Delivering a tray of golden caramel-colored shots, he piles each one high with decadent whipped cream. "Here ya go: six blow job shots."

Hana spews out her cocktail, covering her mouth with rosy cheeks.

"Mon dieu! Did–did he just say–"

"Like you don't know what that is, Kiara," Olivia snorts. "Drink up, poufiasse."

Savannah, Madeleine, and Riley cover their giggles, leaning into one another as they take their drinks.

"Wait," Hana holds up her hands as they prepare to toast their third round of shots. "Where's Penelope?"

"Oh, I'm here! I'm here!" She runs up, out of breath, her short hair and denim dress completely drenched.

"What on earth happened to you?" Riley starts grabbing napkins.

"I was checking in with my dog sitter, but the reception here is awful. Plus, it's raining like cats and dogs out—oooooo!" Penelope's eyes beam at the sight of the shots. "What are these?" She leans down to sniff before humming in approval.

"Blow jobs," Olivia smirks.

"Oh!" Penelope nods with curious fascination. "Leo said that about my lips one time–"

"He said what?" Madeleine raises an eyebrow.

"I know, I didn't understand what he meant either."

"No, that's not–nevermind."

"Hold up." Riley raises her hands to silence everyone before turning to Penelope. "Raining like cats and dogs?" She grimaces, glancing at Savannah. "I hope the guys are alright–"

"Gunther!"

The sudden boisterous voice of Drake Walker echoes through the dive bar, the doors swinging loudly, clapping up against the wooden walls. The large bartender turns, then brightens when he sees his old-time customer and friend coming into his establishment.

"Whiskers, is that you?"

The girls quietly glare at one another, mouthing the word 'whiskers.'

The two men grab each other's hands in a shake before pulling into a brotherly hug. Liam, Bertrand and Maxwell file in through the door, shaking droplets from their wet clothes.

"You guys!" Riley jumps up to greet her husband.

Savannah follows behind, wrapping her arms around Bertrand before brushing a kiss against his lips. "What are y'all doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Maxwell chuckles, throwing his thumb behind his shoulder.

"The campgrounds were rained out," Liam explains, combing his wife's hair behind her ear. "We thought we could stick it out as long as the creek didn't rise too high. But then," he shakes his head, chuckling, "the tents flooded. The truck almost got stuck in the mud."

"Our clothes and shoes are airing out back at the house," Bertrand states, watching his bride fix his wet hair.

"Wow," Olivia snickers, "so much for roughing it for your bachelor party, huh, Beaumont?"

"I beg your pardon," Bertrand stiffens in annoyance, "we almost died out there, duchess."

"It's water."

"Centimeters upon centimeters–"

"Imagine meters of it. Frozen–"

"Well," Riley interjects the budding feud, "I, for one, am happy you guys are out of the nasty weather." She holds her hand up to the bartender, "first round on the crown!"

"I like the sound of that," Maxwell chuckles.

"'First round on the crown'?" Liam whispers in his wife's ear, humored.

Riley scrunches up her nose, a mischievous grin crawling across her lips. "What can I say?" She giggles, slinking an arm around her husband’s waist. "I've been a queen for over a month, and I haven’t declared anything yet." She turns to her friends. "Let them drink booze!" She glances back at Liam, who's shaking his head at his tipsy wife. "What? I was channeling my inner Marie Antoinette."

"I… caught the reference," he narrows his eyes, gently placing a grip around Riley's neck. "I hope she’s not the inspiration of your own reign," he squeezes his fingers playfully, lowering his voice into a growl. "I'd hate for you to end up like her."

"You're not convincing me otherwise with your hand around my throat, my king." They knowingly snicker to one another, sharing a kiss.

"Okay, you newlyweds," Olivia snickers, rolling her eyes before turning to Drake. "So, um, Whiskers?"

He crosses his arms. "Yes…Red?" He collects a tray of glasses and a fifth of whiskey from Gunther to bring to the table.

"Curious minds want to know about this nickname."

"Awww, you’re thinking about me, Red?" She scoffs as he purposely bumps into her shoulder. "Maybe you'd rather a demonstration of why they call me Whiskers–"

"Drake Elmer!" Savannah scolds. "You're disgusting." She glances to the ladies. "Only Gunther calls him that, and the only reason he calls him that is because of Dad."

"Dad had a rule," Drake air quotes, "that I couldn't taste whiskey until I had whiskers." He nods towards the bartender, "Gunther there served me my first whiskey right after Dad's funeral–"

"Drakey!" The syrupy voice of Savannah's ex-boyfriend bellows from across the room. "And he brought his royal round up!" The broad-shouldered red-head gives a curt bow, removing his Stetson as he notices Liam, switching to a British accent. "Your majesty."

Liam nods cordially before casually turning towards Riley. "What is it with you Americans thinking everyone in Europe talks with that accent?" Riley giggles under her breath, pinching her husband teasingly.

"Bert!" Chuck opens up his arms, pulling the duke into a tight, bear hug. "How's our groom? Come down here to flex your trivia knowledge?"

"Trivia?" Maxwell questions.

A sudden jolt of excitement hits Drake, his eyes widening as he looks to Gunther. "Is that tonight?"

"You bet yer' asses, Whiskers. $250 cash prize and a bottle of Jack to share."

"Whatd'ya say, Drakey? For old time's sake?" Chuck holds out his hand. Without giving it much thought, Drake clasps Chuck's calloused hand, pulling him into a quick hug. The men begin to hoot and grunt, clapping as they turn to join the rest of Chuck's friends in the corner.

But then Chuck stops, spinning on his heel. He glares at Bertrand before fixing a charming smirk to his mouth. "Where are my manners? Bert, the team is full, or else I'd invite you to join–"

"That's–" Bertrand clears his throat, "--quite alright, I assure you–"

"I mean," Chuck motions to Liam and Maxwell, "unless y'all wanted to make your own team." He glances over his shoulder, “Gunther, what’s tonight’s theme?

"Texas history, fellas," Gunther announces. "Trivia about the greatest fucking country in the world. Texas."

"Ahh. See?" Chuck swings out his arms, shrugging. "That’s how the story goes. Y'all better sit this one out." With the deep clack of his cowboy boots, he adjusts his belt buckle before slowly strutting back to his seat.

Seeing the defeat in his face, Savannah runs a hand across Bertrand's chest before giving him a sweet kiss on the cheek. "Don't worry about it, hun," she softly croons, "that's not even your idea of fun anyway."

Bertrand grows rigid. "What do you mean? I like to have fun–"

"Of course, B, just… in other… ways–"

"I," he pulls away from his fiancée, pressing his finger into his chest, "am… the epitome of fun–"

"You're right, but–"

"I'm a crate full of apes!"

Riley looks over her shoulder to Liam, whispering, "Does he know that it's a barrel full of–?"

"Shhh," Liam softly hushes, "just let him go."

"You there!" Bertrand shouts to Gunther, causing everyone to freeze. "We would like to play."

"Uh, Bertrand? A word." Maxwell motions for his brother to join him as he stumbles over to Liam. "Are you crazy?" He whisper shouts. "These people already enjoy making fun of us. Why do you want to do this?"

"It's the principle of it all," Bertrand grows serious.

Maxwell sighs. "What do you think, Li?"

Liam looks up at Bertrand whose gaze is now attentive to Savannah. She laughs at something Kiara says, causing Bertrand's demeanor to slump a little more, as if each second with her reminds him he's not worthy of her.

Liam gets that.

"I think we should do it."

"See, Bertrand? Even Li–wait, what?" Maxwell's jaw drops. "You think this is a good idea?"

"It's just a game, right?" Liam winks handsomely. "Besides, I think Bertrand needs this."

"But Li… Texas trivia? Those guys reek of BBQ, football and leather."

“And we have survived how many secret coups attacks? Liam shrugs before patting the younger Beaumont on the back. "This could be fun."

—

Liam, Bertrand and Maxwell settle at a bar top table near four other teams, including Chuck and Drake's group. As Gunther passes out electronic buzzers, he explains the rules. Chuck rubs his hands together in cocky delight as Bertrand wipes his brow with small drink napkins.

"Alright! Is everybody ready?" Gunther announces over a karaoke machine microphone. "Let's begin. When is Texas Independence Day?"

Chuck buzzes in with a proud, sarcastic snicker. "March 2nd."

"Correct!"

"Ahh, snaps, you guys," Maxwell hangs his head in his hands. "This was a bad idea."

"It's only been one question," Liam encourages.

"And we're already losing!" Maxwell whines, covering his eyes.

"Next question. Before her independence, Texas was governed by how many different nations?"

Liam hits the buzzer, turning to an unsuspecting Bertrand. "Psst… how many forks are in the traditional Cordonian place setting?"

Bertrand scoffs. "Six!" He barks out loud before realizing everyone is silent, staring at him.

"Correct!"

"Huh?" Maxwell looks up, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Way to go, Bertrand!" Riley and Savannah cheer as the other ladies clap and whistle.

"Alright," Gunther starts, "next question…"

The trivia night continues, back and forth, question for question. The other teams at the bar had opportunities to answer, but overall, Chuck and Drake's team remained in the lead.

But not by much.

The men from Cordonia gave them quite a run for their money, thanks to Liam and his wealth of knowledge. But although Liam knows the majority of the answers, he is yet to speak for the team; rather, he turns to Bertrand each time after hitting the buzzer, prompting him with a different question that possesses the same answer.

"Okay, folks," the bartender announces, "this is the last question. If this team," Gunther points to Bertrand, Liam and Maxwell, "chimes in and gets it right, it will tie the game, sending us into sudden death." The bar fills with cheers, patrons shouting with excitement and pounding their fists on the tables. "Here we go. The Texas Revolution started in what year?"

There's a slight hesitation, but finally Liam turns to Bertrand and states, "The ending of the Bavarian Regency of Greece." Bertrand furrows his eyebrows, but Liam gives him a reassuring nod as he hits the buzzer.

He clears his throat. "1835?"

Everyone freezes, a hush falling over the bar in anxious anticipation.

"Folks? We've got ourselves a tied game!"

Bertrand exhales heavily, closing his eyes. Liam pats him on the back while Maxwell cheers, tugging on his brother's shoulder. The entire bar is in a fuss as Chuck and Drake stare confusingly at each other. Gunther gets back on the mic, and explains the sudden death round, which requires for each team to choose one member to represent them.

"You've got this, Li," Maxwell applauds, Bertrand smiling and nodding.

"I think… Bertrand should take this."

"Pardon my insolence, sir, but I do not find that to be a wise decision," Bertrand argues.

"I agree with my brother, Li," Maxwell nods, "you knew all those answers–"

"But Bertrand scored us those points," Liam counters, "he needs to put up a fight until the game is over. It's the principle, remember?"

Hearing Liam repeat his words, Bertrand grins, courage blooming in his chest. He looks to Savannah who is clapping, mouthing the words 'I'm so proud of you.'

"I'll do it."

Bertrand and Chuck step forward for the sudden death round, peering into each other's eyes. "Are we ready, gentlemen?" Gunther asks. Both men shake their heads yes, their gazes not leaving each other. "Let the best man win."

For a split second, Bertrand glances at his fiancée, and realizes he might not be the best man, but to her, he is. And no matter what, he's already won.

"Here's the question: made popular by an Alamo hero, this portable weapon that can kill and butcher game. Name the weapon–"

Chuck buzzes in. "The Swiss army knife." He smiles brightly, pulling out his own pocket blade and twirling it in victory.

Bertrand turns back to Liam and Maxwell, shaking his head. Maxwell mouths, 'that's okay! You did your best!' Bertand shakes his head more adamantly, but now he’s starting to grin.

"Actually," the bartender starts, "that’s incorrect, Chuck." Gunther turns towards Bertrand. "Do you have an answer, my foreign friend?"

Bertrand smirks. "You are referring to the Bowie knife."

A stillness hushes the crowd; Savannah and Riley anxiously wait, hands clasped with bated breath.

"That… is correct!"

The entire room erupts with shouts of praise and earth-shaking applause. Several men remove their ten-gallon hats to whoop in honor of the winner, the women of the bachelorette party squealing in glee.

Drake shakes Bertrand's hand before pulling him into an endearing hug. Liam and Maxwell both clap the duke on the back in congratulations. Savannah quickly cuts in, throwing her arms around her fiancé as her lips crash into his. Gunther comes over with the prize, and shakes Liam's hand. Maxwell snatches the bottle of Jack and the cash, and holds it over his head like a trophy. More shots and drinks are ordered, the night carrying on into a wild honky-tonk of a dance party.

Riley finds Liam, roping her arms around his neck as he secures his large hands to her waist.

"I'm so proud of you, partner," Riley attempts a drawl. Liam laughs, kissing her forehead as they begin to sway to the slow country beat. "Bertrand said that you actually never gave him any answers; you just… asked him questions that had the same answer"

Liam nods slowly, "Yep."

"Why?"

"Oh, my queen," he beams looking down at her, "it's the principle."

"The principle?" She cocks an eyebrow.

"A man wants to win a woman's heart."

"But Savannah loves him–"

"That's not the point," Liam counters. "A man wants to win her over… and over and over again. If I gave him the answers, that would've cheated him out of proving to her and to himself that he's worthy of her."

"Do you ever feel that way about me?" She croons.

A rosy hue swirls across Liam's cheeks. "More than you realize."

Riley presses a tender kiss to her husband’s chin before continuing their dance. "But… I gotta ask. When did you become so smart about Texas history?"

Liam chuckles. "I've been best friends with Drake Walker since I was 8 years old. We used to do our studies together, and… he was terrible at history."

"So?"

"So?" Liam stifles his toothy grin, licking his bottom lip. "Who do you think did his Texas history homework?"

"William Rys!"

~👑~

Thank you so much for your support! Every like, comment and reblog means the world to me! 🖤

~👑~

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karahalloway · 1 year

Text

Sleepless in New York: Chapter 10 - Darkfall

Series: TRR

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

Synopsis: What if Drake met Harper on the first night of Prince Christian’s New York bachelor party? A stand-alone AU written from Drake's POV.

Masterlist: Sleepless in New York

Chapter Summary: Drake tries to navigate a rough night...

Word Count: 5,300

Rating/Warnings: E (swearing, angst, obsessive-compulsive exercise, sexual fantasy, masturbation)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: Sorry this took soooo long to get out! As per usual, real life has been exceptionally busy, so I haven't had as much time to write as I'd like to.

A/N2: This is also my slightly belated submission for World Whiskey Day, hosted by @drake-walker-appreciation, and the prompt that this fits with (more or less) is 'The whiskey burns my throat like her absence burns my soul.'

A/N3: I just realised that this kinda (maybe?) qualifies for the @springfeverpitch event that was on this week (Apologies! There are a lot of events on at the moment!) In any case, this would count as domestic x home run I guess 😅

Chapter 10 - Darkfall

I kick the covers off with an irate growl.

Un-fuckin'-believable...

After the shitshow of a day I've had, I should be running on fumes.

And I am.

Yet for some reason, I’m not able to nod off. Despite the fact that I've been on the go since 6am and have barely gotten any shut-eye the night before.

Because my body’s apparently a sucker for punishment and doesn’t seem to know when to quit. And even though I know I desperately need the recharge, I also know that staying in bed’s gonna achieve nothing 'cept hypertension.

So, swinging my legs out onto the carpet with a tight-set jaw, I reach for my phone.

02:18

I run a heavy hand through my hair.

The hell am I gonna do for the next six hours?

My eyes land almost unwittingly on the ragged shirt-tail peeking over the edge of the trash can.

I rip my gaze away with gritted teeth.

No. Absolutely fucking not.

It’a bad enough that I walked out on Gale without so much as a half-assed explanation. I ain’t gonna compound my dick-like behaviour by showing up at her door in the middle of the night, demanding to pick up where we left off.

Especially not after everything I've already subjected her to today — getting her fired, burning her in front of her friends, pulling her into a fight, dragging her on a forced route march 'cross town, and then literally ripping the shirt off her back. And, if that isn’t bad enough, I topped off her night by dumping the proverbial clutch on her when I should've been taking her for the ride of her life.

I swallow painfully. No. That ship had definitely sailed...

Which means it’s high time to take my own fuckin' advice and get her — and this entire mess of a day — out of my head.

No excuses.

And since the overpriced mini bar had let me down, I’m down to my only alternative — running myself into the ground.

Pushing myself up with a resigned exhale, I trudge over to my duffle. Reaching in, I extract the exercise shorts and t-shirt that always forms part of my go-bag, no matter where I went. Because you never know when you’re gonna need to blow off some steam. And going for a run’s a damn sight healthier than disappearing down the neck of a bottle. Even if the latter’s a helluva lot more convenient.

Throwing the clothes on, along with some socks and my well-worn trainers, I turn back to the bedside table to grab my phone and gun...

...and catch sight of the shirt again.

Motherfucker.

Jamming the phone and the Sig into my pockets — it always pays be prepared then be left holding your dick when shit inevitably hits the fan — I march over to the bin and yank the accursed thing out.

Scrunching it up, I turn on my heel, and stomp out of the room, snatching the keycard up on the way. Wrenching the door open, I let it bang shut behind me as I head down the corridor.

I cannot catch one goddamn break tonight...

Reaching the lifts, I briefly contemplate calling one. But given that I’m already wound tighter than a two-dollar watch, I know I won’t be able to stand the wait, no matter how brief.

So, I divert instead to the fire exit. Pulling the heavy door open, I throw myself into a jog and take the stairs upwards two at a time.

I guess I could've just as easily gone downstairs. But I don’t trust myself not to wind up at Gale's brownstone again if I hit the streets. Which means that the only place I can conceivably go is to the top-floor gym.

Which — all things considered — is probably the better bet anyway. Because going for a jog in the dead of night around the City That Never Sleeps is a risk not worth taking. And even though Central Park’s less than a block away, it’s not actually an option, given that (a) it’s shut overnight, and (b) it isn’t the best lit, and I don’t particularly feel like getting jumped by a knife wielding yahoo, or twisting an ankle on an uneven path.

Plus, I'd have to be a monumental idiot to even think about leaving Chris unattended again. Not that I expect to him go anywhere at this hour — except maybe all the way with Hayley. But I’m not about to make the same mistake twice in one day.

Christ knows I paid for it hard the first time 'round...

I feel my legs start to burn as I continue to climb relentlessly. But knowing that this is exactly what I need if I’m to have any hope of catching some zzz's tonight, I ignore the discomfort and push myself on.

Arriving on the 25th floor, I pause on the landing to catch my breath. But the short burst of exercise has merely thrown me a second wind. I still have a long way to go if I want to waste myself completely.

So, moving over to the stairwell door, I pull it open and step into the gym. Given the lateness of the hour, there's not a soul in sight, and it's just me and the view.

But there’s one thing I need to take care of first.

Locating the changing rooms, I head inside. And before I can think too much on it, or change my mind, I stride over to the dirty towel hamper and chuck the ruined shirt in...

...and dump a few towels on top of it for good measure.

Dead and buried.

Spinning quickly around, I exit the way I'd come, focusing my attention on the row of TechnoGym treadmills that face out onto the distantly twinkling lights of Harlem in the north, and not on how twisted my guts feel all of a sudden.

Picking a machine, I pull my phone and sidearm out of my pockets and place them onto the console so they won’t bang against my thighs as I ran, but still remained within reach in case I need them.

Taking a deep breath, I step resolutely onto the belt and hit go on a program at random.

The pace starts off sedately, barely faster than a speed walk. Reaching up to the console, I tap the speed up impatiently, not wanting to waste time on a warm-up I don’t need and most definitely don’t want.

I’n here to burn rubber.

The motor kicks into a higher gear, but it's not enough. Even though I’m now at a steady jog, my heart rate's barely above resting and I've yet to break a sweat. Not to mention the fact that my mind’s still fixating on the very thing I need to flush out of my system.

Gale, legs spread and head thrown back, moaning my name...

Raising my hand with a growl, I slap the panel again... and again... and again... until the belt is a blur beneath my feet and I'm pelting it like a demented bat outta hell.

The sudden speed forces my body into overdrive. My chest expands, my focus narrows, and my blood begins to pump in earnest, trying to supply my body with oxygen faster than it was being consumed.

I fall into a breakneck rhythm, limbs pumping to the rapid beat of my breath in a desperate effort to stay on the treadmill.

In... In... In... In... Out... Out... Out... Out...

The minutes and the miles tick past on the screen in front of me, but I barely register the stats. I'm too busy chasing oblivion...

...which remains stubbornly out of reach.

Because even as I push myself to the limit and my lungs start to burn and my muscles start to cramp, I can't escape her. She's still there, hazel-green eyes dancing on the edge of my awareness, the honey scent of her hair tickling my senses like smoke on the breeze.

And even as my vision begins to swim and the relentless pace pushes me to the verge of puking, I don't let myself ease up. Because that would be an admission of defeat and I’m not the type to quite that easy.

Not when there’s so much on the line.

Because beyond the fact that I let myself become consumed by a girl I barely know — an unhealthy and unsustainable hang-up that I need to nip in the bud, pronto — my continued preoccupation also ended up endangering Chris' life tonight.

And that’s inexcusable.

Not only is the guy the heir to a fuckin' throne, but he is my best — and arguably only — friend. And I let him down, both personally and professionally, by allowing myself to get distracted, just because a pretty set of legs had walked by.

And while I somehow managed to salvaged my colossal fuck-up, and we all walked away tonight without any casualties, I probably won’t m be able to pull a miracle like that out of my ass every time.

Nor should I expect to.

Especially not during the social season, when Chris is going to be constantly in the spotlight, shaking hands, being interviewed, always in an exposed setting. All it would take is one moment of distraction, one second of lost focus, for someone to pull a gun, to slip through the crowd, for our worlds to come crashing down.

And I’m not gonna let Chris — my brother — down like that.

I can’t.

So, doubling down, I dig deep and continue to pound the vestiges of my frustrations, my failings, and my regret relentlessly into the treadmill, the hard and fast staccato of my feet against the machine echoing around the otherwise empty space.

I have no clue how long I run for. Minutes? Hours? It makes no difference. Every wheeze feels like my last, every exertion a desperate attempt to break free of the purgatory of mistakes I trapped myself in.

And still I push on. Until I hit the proverbial wall and collapse against it, my vision blurry, my limbs shaking, my clothes drenched.

I stand there for what feels like eternity, feet straddling either side of the machine, the belt still whizzing at breakneck speed beneath me while I cling to the console like a life-line, trying to catch my breath.

And eventually my heart-rate slows, the buzzing in my ears clears, and I regain enough coherence to lift a hand and slap the treadmill off.

Pushing myself up to a standing position as the machine whirls to a stop, I wipe the sweat from my eyes and glance at the screen in front of me.

10 miles. 56 minutes.

I scoff wryly. Well, fuck me if that ain’t a new personal best... Who knew that self-pity could be such a potent motivator...?

Exiting the menus, I grab my stuff and move to step off the machine... only to very narrowly avoid face planting into the floor.

Oh, shit...!

Grabbing the console, I shake my head to try and clear the sudden nausea.

Christ, I feel awful...

My eyes land on the water fountain and I lurch towards it like a drunk out of a bar. Because that’s exactly how I feel like — sluggish, light-headed and stumbling around like a newborn calf. Which is no surprise considering I've just run the best part of half a marathon as if the Devil himself had been after me, having consuming nothing but two bottles of beer beforehand.

Apparently I do hate myself.

Managing to make it to the far wall without any incident — just — I lean over the dispenser to inhale the cool stream of water, nearly making myself choke in the process.

But I know I need to rehydrate myself, otherwise I’m gonna be in a world of pain in a few hours' time. So, after overcoming the initial shock to my system, I force myself to loosen up on the pace and start taking longer and slower gulps.

Having finally satisfied my body's cravings, I let go of the dispenser button to run the back of a trembling hand over my water-soaked mouth.

Sweet Jesus, I’m a mess...

I can’t remember the last time I pushed myself this hard on a workout.

But then I've never felt this way before... Like I’m an idiot, like I missed the pass, like I’m stuck in a maze with no way out.

And even though the hard run had managed to clear my mind, that latent feeling of... something is still there, writhing just beneath the surface, like an unscratchable itch under my skin.

And maybe it'll never go fully away. But I’m not about to give up without putting in a damn good fight.

Pushing myself up, I turn towards the pool. And even though I haven’t brought any swim trunks with me, my feet are already pulling me towards the siren call of the water.

Because if there’s one thing that’a guaranteed to set me right, it’s a full-body dunk.

Arriving at the side of the pool, I peel my sweat-soaked clothes off, leaving only my boxers on for the sake of modesty in case someone happens to walk in.

Taking a breath, I step out over the edge and plunge straight in.

The sting of salt hits my nose — not the same flavour as the Med, but then no pool’s ever gonna compete with that — as the water envelopes me and I let myself sink below the surface.

I hit the bottom and the echoey silence settles like a blanket around me, soothing my senses, taming my pulse.

I've always loved the water. Even before I could walk, I'd make a butt-shuffling beeline towards the end of the beach where the waves crashed onto the shore, unveiling a treasure trove of crabs, seashells and shiny rocks.

Of course, Mom'd been terrified that I'd get swept out to sea, or drown. So, to appease her fear, Dad had started taking me to swim lessons — first at the local therapy pool, but graduating quickly to the higher classes in the lap pool as I learnt to float, hold my breath, and leap off the diving board, all by the age of three.

From there my obsession only grew. I joined the school swim team, the water polo team, and even got certified as a lifeguard over the course of one summer. In short, I spent almost as much time in the water as out of it.

And then Chris introduced me to sailing.

At first I couldn't see the appeal of drifting around the Med on a sofa-sized boat when you could be swimming in it. But I've never been able to say 'no' to my best friend, so when he insisted I join him for a spin around the marina in his new Wayfarer one evening, I'd begrudgingly said yes. And had become instantly hooked. The speed, the technical precision, the feeling of flying over the water — it was all addictive.

Jack Sparrow'd had it right when he'd said that a ship is not just a keel and a hull and a deck and sails. Because even though those things are integral to the make-up of any craft, what a ship — or yacht, or catamaran, or any other vessel — really is, is freedom.

And for a restless 14 year-old, there was nothing more attractive than ditching the world to hang out with your buddy in the middle of the ocean, free of worries or adult supervision, just enjoying the endless view while you fished and talked about nothing in particular.

Of course, being teenagers, we were bound to get ourselves into deep water — quite literally. Which is how we ended up deciding that it'd be a great idea to take out a much larger sloop one evening... only to end up paying for that mistake when a storm decided to roll in out of the blue, catching us off guard and capsizing our craft.

And while that particular misadventure had ended up turning Chris off sailing once and for all, it had made me even more determined to get back out onto the water and obtain my ICC license. Which I did, the following summer.

And even though I no longer have Chris to share my maritime adventures with, my love of sailing — and of being out on the water — never diminished.

Because the sea is — and always has been — my personal haven.

Feeling my lungs start to itch from the lack of oxygen, I reluctantly open my eyes and kick back up to the surface.

But I don't feel like returning to dry land just yet.

So, drawing a quick breath, I stretch myself out and dip into an easy freestyle. Half-a-dozen strokes and I reach the edge of the pool. Diving down, I flip myself around to kick off the wall, resurfacing into a backstroke.

I repeat the pattern for about ten laps, enjoying the rare sense of peace that comes with gliding weightlessly through the water, strokes moving effortlessly in time with my breath.

Eventually, though, I’m forced to call it quits as my body finally runs out of steam and my rhythm starts to falter.

Grabbing onto the edge of the pool, I pause to catch my breath, arms and shoulders tingling from the exertion...

...and I suddenly realise that I'm starving.

Which, all things considered, is hardly surprising. The last time I had anything to eat was at that Midtown stake-house at dinner-time, which was over eight hours ago. And since then I've probably burnt through 800 calories' worth of pure stress, not to mention all the physical exertion I've put myself through. So, my blood sugar levels are shot.

Pulling myself out of the water, I pad over to the other side of the pool to collect my gear.

I briefly contemplate having a shower, but quickly ditch the idea on the basis that (a) I hadn't brought a change of clothes with me, and (b) I can’t trust myself not to go rooting for the ruined shirt that I ditched in the changing rooms earlier.

So, brushing off the worst of the water, I head straight for the lifts.

I’m not expecting to cross paths with anyone at whatever time in the morning it is. And if I do... well, they can suck it up. It's not like I’m walkin' around buck-ass naked.

Arriving back on our booked-out floor, I make my way to my room. Fishing the keycard out of the pocket of my shorts, I let myself in and flick the door closed behind me.

Dropping my exercise kit by my duffle, I locate the 24-hour room service menu and do a quick scan of the options.

A couple of items jump out at me, but knowing that I'll probably have breakfast with the guys in a few hours' time, I don’t want to have anything too heavy.

But then my eyes land on the cheeseburger, and before I can think twice about it, I've reached for the hotel phone and I'm putting the order through.

And even though I tell myself that it's because I never got to finish the one back at the dive bar two nights ago, I know that I'm lying to myself...

...so, I add a bottle of whiskey to the order for good measure.

Because I don’t want to blow up all my hard work by falling back into the same emotional sink hole that I only very narrowly managed to drag myself out of just now. So, I need something to distract myself.

Hanging up, I quickly sort my sweaty clothes out and stow them in the duffle before making my way into the bathroom to have another shower.

Once done, I throw on my jeans and a t-shirt (not bothering with socks or underwear) and flick the wall-mounted TV on to find something to pass the time with while I wait for the food to show up.

Not seeing any movies or series that particularly interest me, I eventually settle on a rerun of an old Pats game...

...but I find my mind wandering.

And it doesn't take long for my treacherous sub-conscious to dig up the very images that have been stalking me all night.

Gale, up in my face out on the club balcony, testing my limits and my sanity with that sassy smile of hers...

Gale, head thrown back and ass pressed up against me as we move to the techno-beat on the crowded dance-floor...

Gale, legs wrapped around me as her nails rake over my skin, fighting to get my shirt off as my tongue invades her mouth...

I groan despite myself, shifting uncontrollably on top of the covers...

...and realise that I've already lost the battle.

Shit.

My eyes land ruefully on the tell-tale tent pole straining the front of my pants.

I huff out a tight exhale.

If there'd been one thing I wanted to avoid tonight, it’s this...

Because I know that as soon as I dip a toe in that particular Rubicon, I’m screwed. And not in a good way.

Because when you've been continuously pushed to the edge, only to be yanked back each and every time from the precipice of release, a plain ol' wank just isn’t gonna do it.

Sure, jacking one out relieved the immediacy of the pent up need. But it’s never gonna hold a candle to the real thing. In part because it’s over in minutes and in part because cumming into your own hand feels about as satisfying as throwing yourself a one-man pity party.

Because sex is a team sport. And trying to run a solo play — when you know what the real thing feels like — is always gonna fall short of expectations. Because when you’re on your own, there’s no one to share the thrill with. To kiss, to tease, to fuck to the limit before letting go so you can finally implode into each other.

Which is why I'd tried my damnedest to exhaust myself so I wouldn't find myself in this situation. At least not until we were back in Cordonia, and I could avail myself of some options...

...'cept now I don’t have a choice.

Not unless I want to greet the bell hop with a raging hard-on...

Because unfortunately for me, my dick has apparently decided that it'd had enough of being baited, and is now gonna bend me over the barrel to get what it wants.

Regardless of the fact that it’s gonna be a massive let-down for both of us.

So, even as I try to shift my focus back to the Pats game — and sideline my ever-growing erection — all I manage to achieve is an even more persistent itch in my pants.

Because despite my resistance, we both know that thanks to the missed opportunity with Gale, chances are good that I’m not gonna find anything resembling decent satisfaction until after the Masquerade Ball.

As even though we'll be arriving back to a Palace teeming with all manner of women — from maids to staff to nobles — that doesn’t mean I’m gonna be casting a net. In fact, just the opposite. I’m not the type to shit where I eat (it causes too much unnecessary mess) and I learnt my lesson about fucking aristos the hard way.

Which means that unless I’m planning to shell out for a call girl — hell'd have to freeze over first — a self-administered hand-job is gonna have to tide me over until there’s a big enough gap in my schedule that I can get away from the Palace for a couple of hours and find some stress relief.

I heave a low breath. Fuck my fuckin' life...

But knowing that I've backed myself into a corner, I reach resignedly for my belt. Unhooking the buckle, I fling it to the side to expose the top button of my jeans. Snapping the fastening open with one hand, I yank the zip down with the other.

The denim falls away and my dick springs free of its confines, its rigid length snapping to attention like an overeager hound that has just caught a scent.

And even though this particular outing isn’t gonna end in the long, hard run we both know we need, that doesn't stop the damn thing from drooling like a mutt in anticipation.

Setting my jaw, I shove my jeans down over my hips, half-heartedly wishing I had some lube or something to try and improve this runaway train-wreck as I reach south...

...and groan out loud as my hand wraps around the warm shaft.

Goddamn...

I’m apparently more deprived than I realised. Though, I guess that shouldn't come as a massive surprise. Especially after the near constant edging that Gale subjected me to tonight, combined with the fact that it's been a good two weeks since the last time I managed to eke out time for a fuck. And that had been mediocre at best.

As if to emphasise the point, my dick bucks against palm, and it's clear that I have a lot of mitigating to do.

Sliding my fist firmly down, then back up again, I set about stoking up a rhythm. And even though it's nothing different to what I've done hundreds of times before, something about the familiar friction sparks an instant fire in my veins.

Maybe it's 'cause I’m exhausted... Maybe it's 'cause my mind’s a mess... Maybe it's 'cause I've gone cold turkey for too long...

But whatever it is, it’s sending me into a tailspin.

I feel my head tip back against the headboard with a low moan as I'm pulled rapidly under by the throes of my self-gratification.

And as my eyes shudder closed in the face of the rising tension, I give myself up to the darkest depths of my desire...

...and in a blink of an eye, I’m back in that cramped apartment, gazing up at Gale from between her legs, the imminence of her climax written on her face, the slickness of her arousal coating my mouth and tongue.

I groan into her as she grips my hair, urging me on with her increasingly desperate pleas, her body quivering above me as she careers towards the edge...

...and I’m suddenly possessed by an all-consuming urge to have her.

Shooting to my feet, with her legs still wrapped around my shoulders, I send her sprawling back over the top of the kitchen counter.

Because I know that we don’t have much time, and if I’m gonna make this happen, we need to do it hard and fast.

And I’m not gonna let myself disappoint her again.

Grabbing her by the waist, I yank her towards me. Her hazel-green eyes widen in shock as her ass dips over the edge of the counter. But my grip on her is unshakeable and she's not going anywhere.

Not yet anyway.

Not until I've fucked her six ways 'til Sunday, and even then I probably won’t let her leave.

Because this girl sets me on fire like nobody else, and I need her to burn with me.

Bending down to give her decadent folds one more self-indulgent lick, I steady her with one hand while I rip my belt and jeans open with the other, not able to take my eyes off her as she writhed before me.

"Drake...!"

The sound of my name slipping off her lips like a fervent prayer unleashes something feral inside of me. Something I didn't even know existed in the dark recesses of my soul. Something that instantly swallows whatever vestiges of rational thought I have left, leaving only one, single-minded purpose:

To make her mine.

And in some corner of my brain I know I should be terrified. Of this rabid hunger that she's unwittingly awakened within me. Of the fact that I can’t control it... and don’t want to.

But I'm already past the point of no return. And I can’t give a rat's ass.

Because the only thing I care about is fulfilling that unspoken obsecration of hers until she’s ruined for all other men.

Shoving my jeans and boxers down with a growl, I grab her hips and ram myself into her in one, brutal motion.

Her wet heat engulfs me, taking me fully, causing my eyes to roll back into my head as I revel in the sheer euphoria of her, her deep-throated cry of agreement rising up around me.

Christ, she feels amazing!

And if the mere act of being inside her doesn’t already feel like pure rapture, she then decides to up the ante even further.

"Fuck me, Drake," she demands, arching her lower back forward.

A guttural sound rattles my throat as she rolls her hips against me, cranking up the torsion as she pulls me in even deeper.

And I could've lost it then and there.

But somehow — whether through sheer force of will, or by the grace of God — I manage to tamp down the rapidly rising swell in order to heed her command.

Because this isn’t about me. This is about her. And I’m gonna make damn sure that she gets what she wants before I let myself cum inside her.

Even if it kills me.

Opening my eyes, I meet her hazel-green gaze with an affirmative smirk. "Yes, ma'am."

She wraps her legs around me expectantly...

...and I slam us together roughly, loudly, unapologetically.

She gasps beneath me, hands flying to the edge of the counter to grip it like an anchor in a storm, her entire body reverberating with the impact of our collisions.

But I don't stop. I can't. I pound into her like a man possessed... because I am. All semblance of logic, of reason, of God-given sense has evaporated and I devolve into the basest version of myself, one that is driven purely by lust and instinct.

And even though I know I won't be able to hold out, that I'll cave in the face of her rhapsodic screams and the almost painful pressure she’s putting on my dick, I'm powerless to pull the e-brake. If anything, it makes me rev the throttle even harder.

Because she just feels too damn good, and I've been at her mercy from the start.

Lifting my head, I lock eyes with her. And in those lust-blown, hazel-green depths, I see more than just need... more than just passion.

I see complete faith.

And it undoes me.

I explode into her with a ragged, animalistic cry, my body jerking with the force of my deliverance.

"Holy... fuck!"

The long-coveted wave of release crashes over me, wiping away my thoughts and my vision, and I'd be convinced that I passed out were it not for the high-pitched ringing in my ears and the thundering of my heart.

A few more pumps, a shuddered breath as the last swell rises, and I’m left drained, floating.

I stay there, motionless, revelling in that all-too brief moment of calm before the chaos of the world spins back up around me.

Sweet Jesus, that w—

Her warm lips brush against my sweat-streaked forehead, her honey-camomile scent drifting over me like a drunken haze...

I move to lean into her. "Harp—"

...but she's already gone.

The story continues in Chapter 11 - Cold Light of Day

Permatags

@twinkleallnight @lovingchoices14 @kingliam2019 @petiteboheme @angelasscribbles @aussiegurl1234 @nestledonthaveone @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @tessa-liam @alyshak92 @secretaryunpaid @princessleac1 @walkerdrakewalker @tinkie1973 @twinkle-320 @knaussal @nikkis1983 @lunaseasblog @ficloverevie @indiana-jr @differenttyphoonwerewolf @kristinamae093 @eversoaringqueen12 @peonierose @3pawandme @alexabeta @veebug8 @fangirling12566 @queenmiarys @lancelotsimp @coco-lina-s @lolablackwrites @ivyflowers13 @persephone13 @hollygirl1269 @adri-ja-96 @harleybeaumont @katedrakeohd @uneravine @choicesficwriterscreations

Sleepless in New York only

@bebepac

Picture Credits

Insomnia - Dawn - New York - Run - Swim - Drake - Pool

#drake walker #sleepless in new york #world whiskey day #drake walker appreciation #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #drake x mc #harper gale #the royal romance #trr au fanfic

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angelasscribbles · 1 year

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Birthday Spanking: A Bad Romance One-Shot

Series: Bad Romance Continues

Original Series: Bad Romance

Fandom: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir

Pairings for series: Riley x Liam x Max, Riley x Drake, Riley x Rashad

Pairing for this chapter: Riley x Max

Rating: NSFW 🍋🍋🍋

Warnings for this chapter: BDSM D/s dynamic, bondage, erotic spanking. Language.

Word Count: 2,581

A/N: Back in September 2022 @harleybeaumont made a request for "subby secretary Max". It only took me six months to write it. She also gets credit for the pic below as she sent it to me for inspiration.

A/N2: Here's a link just in case anyone is interested in learning more about erotic spanking and why it's pleasurable to some people.

My other stuff: Master List.

Riley walked the secretary of finance to the door of her office, “Thank you, Lord Herron,” she ushered him out as he nodded and tried to continue the conversation.

She pushed the door closed and leaned on it, breathing out a sigh of relief. Lord Archibald Herron was a lot. Like, really a lot. He was at least ninety years old, and would not retire. He talked a lot, had outdated ideas, and took forever to tell a story.

She was exhausted from the encounter and stressed the fuck out. She glanced up at the ornate Lewisburg wall clock on her wall. She had time to kill before her next appointment.

She knew exactly how to relieve her stress.

She pulled the door open to peer into the outer office. Her eyes landed on Max, who was rifling through a file cabinet for something.

“Max!” She called out, “Come in here, now! I have something to dictate to you!”

Max looked up from his filing, “Oh, um, yes, okay, coming!” He swiftly grabbed a steno pad and pencil from his desk as he walked past it.

“Hold all my calls,” Riley told the receptionist as she stood back and let Max through then she pushed the door shut and turned the lock. It was Max’s birthday and she had something special planned.

Max, completely unsuspecting, took a seat in the chair in front of the desk and flipped the steno pad open, “Okay, what are you dictating?”

Riley sauntered across the room and pulled herself up onto the edge of the desk, crossing her legs as she did so. One hand moved up her thigh, sliding her skirt up, revealing thigh-high stockings, “To whom it may concern, the queen needs to be…handled.”

Max glanced up at her, then back down at the steno pad clutched in his hand. He blinked then his head jerked back up as he realized what she was saying.

When his eyes found her again, she was sitting on edge of her desk, dangling a pair of handcuffs from her fingertips.

His eyes dipped down to trace up her legs, taking in the top of the stocking and the attached garter belt before making their way up her curves to lock on her face. His mouth went dry, “How may I be of service, Your Majesty?”

“You can get over here and let me cuff you. Now.”

The sharpness of her command sent a frisson of excitement through him as he bolted out of the chair, steno pad and pencil falling forgotten to the ground as he hurried to do her bidding.

“Turn around.” She ordered.

He complied without a sound, spinning to place his back to her and bringing his wrists together. He felt the cold metal encircle both wrists and heard them click as they snapped into place.

She tugged on each one making sure they were snug but not too tight. “Spin.”

When he turned back to face her, she was wearing a seductive smile and twirling a very familiar collar in her hand. It was black studded leather with an O ring in the front and a locking buckle in the back. He vividly remembered the day she had placed it around his neck for the first time. The day she had collared him had been the happiest day of his life.

A collaring ceremony is just as meaningful as a wedding ceremony in many circles. It meant he belonged to her, but more than that, it meant that she made a commitment to him. The collar was as symbolic as a wedding band and having her place it around his neck in front of witnesses had brought him a sense of belonging and security.

The fact that she was dangling it in front of him as he stood in her office in the middle of the day with his hands cuffed behind his back told him that she was ready to play. A shiver ran through his body as he let his eyes dip down to her legs and trek slowly back upward again.

“Kneel,” she commanded.

He made and held direct eye contact as he lowered himself to his knees in front of her, “Yes, my queen.”

A shudder of pleasure ran through her at the way he made the honorific sound so sexual, “Good boy,” she crooned as she placed the collar around his neck.

He bowed his head so she could buckle it, “You’re every wish is my fervent command, Your Majesty. I live to please you.”

“Glad to hear it,” she told him as she slid the hem of her skirt higher, revealing her lack of panties, “Your tongue between my legs would please me very much right now.”

He crawled forward on his knees and, unable to use his hands which were cuffed behind him, nudged her legs further apart using his head and lapped a soft, warm line up her center.

Her fingers twisted in his hair as she scooted closer to the edge of the desk and wrapped her legs around his neck, “God, yes….” The day’s tension melted right out of her body.

Max on his knees in front of her never disappointed.

His tongue was warm and soft as it twirled and flicked at her center, trailing sparks in its wake as it worked. Up and down, side to side, in and out, round and round, not a single spot was neglected.

Heat suffused her body as tension coiled and tightened inside her. She tried to push his head back to draw it out, but he surged forward forcing her over the edge. Her body arched off the desk and into his mouth as her repressed screams filtered out as moans and gasps. “Fuck, yes, Max!” Her fingers tightened in his hair as she pulled him closer, losing herself in the crashing waves of ecstasy as he licked her through the orgasm.

When she was done, she gently pushed him away as she scooted back on the desk, tugging her skirt back into place. “Good boy,” she told him as she slid off the desk, “Now stand up, I have something for you.”

She helped him to his feet since he couldn’t use his hands to help himself. She laid gentle kisses along his back as she uncuffed him.

“What is it?” he rubbed his wrists, an anticipatory thrill slipping through him.

“Did you think I had forgotten it’s your birthday?” She smirked at him as she rummaged around in the oversized tote she had brought to the office that morning.

“N-no…” he replied carefully, “We have plans for dinner tonight and we’re going to the peacock show tomorrow….”

“Oh, but you haven’t had your birthday spanking yet, have you?”

Max closed his eyes and groaned as a shiver of eager excitement ran through him, “No my queen, I have not.”

“Well, we have to correct that,” she told him as her eyes ran up and down his body with a predatory glint, “so drop those pants, turn around, put your hands on the desk, and bend over.”

He locked eyes with her as he slowly unbuckled his pants, “Yes, Your Majesty,” he hooked his fingers under the waistband of his pants and underwear, pushing them down to tangle around his ankles, then he turned, leaned over and placed both hands on the top of the highly polished mahogany executive desk.

Riley laid several implements on the desk in front of him. A slapper paddle with cut-out hearts carved into the leather, a flogger with soft metallic silver fronds, a crop with a split tipped top and textured handle, a black leather whip, and a small satin and leather spanking paddle.

Max felt his cock stiffen as his eyes swept across their toys. Riley’s fingers ghosted across his back as she leaned down, put her mouth to his ear, and whispered, “Your choice, my sweet, perfect, subby boy toy.”

“Fuck!” Max sucked in an audible gasp as he felt his dick throb. Precum oozed out of the tip as his heart rate spiked.

“Well? Which one?”

His eyes moved from one to the next. Each implement had its draw. The slapper paddle would make a loud, satisfying noise, but didn’t do much in the way of delivering the sharp sting he craved. The flogger would sting nicely and leave pretty red welts to remind him of the encounter, but it was quiet. The crop was perhaps the best of both worlds, providing a satisfying whoosh as it moved through the air, a resounding thwack when it made contact with his ass and the welts would last for days. The whip was too much for the middle of the afternoon. He wanted to be able to walk normally when he left her office. The spanking paddle was entirely too quiet and entirely too gentle.

“The crop,” he decided.

“Are you sure?” She picked up the spanking paddle and ran the satin side across his rear.

He swallowed thickly, “I’m sure.”

“Hm,” she replaced the paddle and picked up the flogger, trailing the fronds lightly down his back.

A shiver ran through him as goosebumps erupted from head to toe.

“What do we say?” she prompted.

“Please,” he responded immediately.

“Please, what?”

“Please spank me, my queen.”

Riley replaced the flogger on the desk and hefted the crop in her hand, debating which way to go with it. A heavy hand or a light hand would deliver different results. She could create a multitude of sensations with the impact toy, from sensuous light caresses to sharp stinging bites.

“I know what you like, Max,” She purred as she leaned her body across his back and reached around to take him firmly in her hand, stroking up and down.

Max squeezed his eyes tightly shut, his entire body trembling, “Fuck, Riley, I’m so close already.”

She released him and stepped back, her free hand smacking him on the ass before bringing the crop down onto the tender flesh of his backside. It made a whooshing sound as it cut through the air.

He jerked as the leather bit into him, delivering its stinging kisses. His hands grasped the edge of the desk tightly, the wood digging into his palms. “Oh! Riley!”

Every thwack pushed him closer to the edge.

Thwack!

His fingers pushed harder against the desktop.

Thwack!

His teeth sank into his lower lip as he muffled a grunt of pleasure.

Thwack!

His erection throbbed.

Thwack!

Darkness clouded the edges of his vision as he lost the battle to stay quiet. A high-pitched whine started in the back of his throat.

“I love you, Max,” the words dripped like honey from her lips as she brought the crop down again.

Thwack!

That was it, his hands lost purchase and he toppled forward onto the desktop, guttural cries ripped from him as his body convulsed, his cock pulsing and spewing streams of milky wetness all over the front of the desk, the floor, and his own pants that were still tangled around his ankles.

A shiver ran down his spine, his whole body tingled, and pinpricks of euphoria erupted across his scalp. He slid off the desk onto the floor, kneeling on all fours as he gasped for breath.

Riley tossed the crop onto the desk and sat down next to him, drawing his head into her lap. She ran her fingers gently through his hair, “How are you doing, my sweet boy?”

“I’m doing great!” He relaxed, lying on the office floor, his mind blissfully blank as he reveled in the sensation of floating off into the ether.

She moved his head from her lap so she could stretch out next to him on the floor, snuggling close to him. They exchanged soft kisses and loving caresses as quiet expressions of love were murmured back and forth.

“You stay there,” she told him as she stretched and sat up.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere, I’ll be right back.”

She stepped around the desk and returned a moment later with a small bottle in her hand. Max lay on the floor, chin propped on his folded arms as Riley tenderly applied a soothing aloe vera cream to his reddened bottom, “You should take the rest of the day off and go take a nice warm bath.”

“Mm-uh,” he shook his head, “I want to stay.”

“You want to stay at work on your birthday?” she laughed in surprise.

“I want to stay near you, my everything. Always.”

“All right,” her voice held amusement, but her eyes were filled with warmth as she recapped the bottle, “Have it your way.”

He heaved a sigh, “Speaking of work, I should get out of here before your next appointment arrives.”

“They can wait,” she told him as she stood, “What are they gonna do? I’m the queen!”

“Thank you,” he pushed onto all fours, climbed to his feet, and pulled his pants gingerly back up.

“You don’t have to thank me,” she smirked at him, “I got as much out of it as you did and it’s your birthday!”

“I’m still getting dinner and the peacock show though, right?”

Riley tilted her back as a laugh burst out of her, “Oh, my God, Max, yes!”

Without any spoken instructions or discussion between them, Max retrieved a towel from the attached bathroom and cleaned up the mess while Riley put away the toys. They worked quickly, falling easily into their familiar routine, even though they weren’t in their usual place.

When they were done, Riley ran a hand down his face, “Happy Birthday, sweet boy,” she whispered, bringing her lips to his.

Their tongues tangled together for a few brief moments then Max pulled away with a grin, “See you tonight!”

He was almost at the door when her voice stopped him.

“Max, wait!” Riley rushed to catch up with him, “You forgot to take off your collar!”

“Oh, this?” he grinned as his fingers slid across the supple leather at his neck, “I’m keeping it on.”

“You’re not worried about what people will think?”

“Since when have I ever cared what people think?” he scoffed, “Besides, they probably all heard me in here screaming like a little bitch anyway.”

“Those were very manly screams, Max,” she corrected him.

“Glad you think so,” he took the opportunity to pull her into his arms for one last kiss.

Riley giggled as she let herself be jerked forward into his grasp.

He nuzzled into the side of her neck playfully before bringing his lips to hers and melting into the kiss. An incredible sense of contentment spread over him.

He had an entire birthday weekend planned. Tonight was dinner with his closest friends and family, tomorrow was the peacock show with Riley followed by a huge party. Sunday he was spending the day with Liam. But even if there were no parties, no dinners, and no celebrations, this was already the best birthday he’d ever had.

It was his first birthday with Riley and the first one spent with Liam as a couple. He had the man that he loved and the woman that he loved and by some miracle, they both loved him back. There was literally nothing else on earth that he wanted or needed. He was happy, he was content, and he was beyond grateful for the life they’d built together.

He still wanted to see the peacocks though.

Tagging:

All Things TRR:

@nestledonthaveone @karahalloway @tessa-liam @belencha77 @lovingchoices14

@21-wishes @secretaryunpaid @lunaseasblog @princessleac1 @bebepac

@emersyn-in-cordonia @walkerdrakewalker @73geenalove @sillydg @twinkle-320

@queen-arabella-of-cordonia @tinkie1973 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @jared2612 @mainstreetreader

@amandablink @harleybeaumont @xpandass420x @ladyangel70 @twinkleallnight

@dcbbw @indiacater @queenmiarys @phoenixrising0308 @gabesmommie1130

@kingliam2019 @3pawandme @bascmve01 @hollygirl1269 @ohmyeightpastlives

@gardeningourmet

@choicesficwriterscreations

#bad romance #maxwell beaumont appreciation #maxwell beaumont #riley brooks #maxwell x mc #Max's birthday #angelasscribbles #the royal romance #trr #the royal romance fanfic #cfwc fics of the week #choices fic writers creations

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blazingflareon · 1 year

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it lives appreciation week day 1 - the mcs nyx chase // ray vance // asher hollow

wanted to put more effort into this but my focus is so bad rn im surprised i finished this at all orz

@ila-appreciationweek

#bs'd the ilb mc bc i deadass do not remember any outfits from that game lol #ilaw #it lives appreciation week #ilw #it lives within #it lives series #ilitw #ilb #digital art #blazingart #oc: asher hollow #sorry other mcs u dont have enough art for a tag yet lmao #also apparently im a day late. i just assumed it would start on monday not sunday hgfklhg oh well #probably not gonna get around to the other days anyway #all my brain wants to do is play pokemon bc hyperfixation go brr :')

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moominofthevalley · 7 months

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some shameless self-promotion because there’s nothing more beautiful than creating a piece of something for others to read!

here’s a small list of my favorite fics i’ve written!

click here for a dossier of my detective rose

If you like angst, check out:

Future Days While searching for answers to her past, tensions rise between Emily and Trystan.

I Will A murdered body brings light to the detective’s past. A grieving Trystan seeks comfort from the person he loves the most.

Marguerite’s Halloween Bacchanalia, Part I

Part II On Halloween Night, Trystan and Emily are invited to a spooky party.

If you like tooth-rotting fluff, check out:

Made With Love Following up on his rain check, Trystan cooks the grumpy detective a delicious traditional Drakovian breakfast.

My Love Mine All Mine Emily peels Trystan some oranges on a rainy Sunday afternoon

tags: @choicesficwriterscreations @choicesfandomappreciation

#crimes of passion #choices fandom appreciation #trystan x mc #choices crimes of passion #playchoices #choices book club #dossier #crimes of passion 2 #trystan thorne #emily rose #self love day #<3 #fandom kindness week

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aroaessidhe · 4 days

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2024 reads / storygraph

Looking for Love in All the Haunted Places

contemporary romance with a light paranormal mystery

follows a woman with ESP who gets onto a reality tv show where she has to stay in a mysterious house and document her stay - and every previous occupant has only lasted three days - and she’s determined to figure out what’s going on and get her abilities taken seriously

she’s quickly drawn to a man working on the show, and they begin a relationship - and she gets caught between him (and his cute 10yo daughter) and the house and her career goals

Black ace MC

#Looking for Love in All the Haunted Places #aroaessidhe 2024 reads #asexual books #this is okay! obviously not my kind of book - I rarely read (m/f) adult romance #and I’m always gonna want more of the speculative element lol.#I didn’t super care about the characters - other than the short middle section with Georgia I didn’t really feel her getting to know anyone #She and Maverick are just sort of immediately into each other and the one attempt to keep them apart was a bit silly #- I didn’t feel much development between them.#They’ve known each other for 3 weeks and the idea that (because of work thing) they won’t be able to see each other #for a couple of weeks is some kind of dealbreaker? what? that conflict didn’t really make sense to me.#he sentient house thing was kinda interesting but also after all that the plot seemed easily revolved in the epilogue.#The kid is cute. the cat is cute - though felt like an odd side plot #I thought the exploration of the MC’s asexuality was done well! She talks about her experiences in a way that feels personal to her.#Even if it’s not super for me- I appreciate the existence of a low-conflict Black ace romance.

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jerzwriter · 1 year

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Enchanted

This absolutely stunning creation was made by the lovely and talented @/artbyainna on Instagram. I have been so anxious to share it with you - but waited for @tobias-carrick-appreciation-week. I'm so glad it's here!

In my HC, I built on the canon version of their meeting in A Deli...ghtful Meeting. But I've always wondered about the leadup. The moments when life is about to turn upside down in the most delightful way, but we don't see it coming. The only thing Tobias was willing to commit to was remaining a bachelor. Beautiful, even brilliant women were common in his life, but never captivated him for long. But after a brief meeting with this woman, he could not get her out of his mind. These are the moments before Tobias Carrick's life was turned upside down... and he never saw it coming. This story is told from his POV.

Book: Open Heart Book 2 Pairing: Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Casey - eventual) Featuring: Aurora Emery Rating: Teen Words: 1,600 A/N: The original title was not Enchanted, but as I was writing this, my daughter was playing the Taylor Swift song of the same name, and it fit so perfectly that I went with it. Participating in @aprilchallenge - Love is in the Air.

"Come on, jackass!" The steam was practically pouring out of Tobias's ears as his hand lay on the horn, refusing to lift it until the moron blocking the intersection moved out of the way. The moron finally did… just in time for the light to turn red.

His jaw clenched as he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, reminding himself it wasn't worth becoming this upset over. When his eyes opened, the light turned green, and only two thoughts remained. One: his best friend Kerry was really getting to him with her bullshit relaxation tips, and two, he couldn't be mad at her because they seemed to work.

His attitude improved as he drove off, but the morning traffic didn’t. A woman in a non-descript sedan waved at him as he sat in traffic, her eyes imploring him to wait so she could get out of her tight parking spot. He may have behaved differently a few moments ago, but a small smile tugged at his lips as he waved her on.

Then he had an idea. A parking spot on the streets of Boston? Unheard of. And that spot just happened to be located a few doors down from his favorite deli? That wasn't a coincidence. No, this was divine intervention telling him to reward himself with a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich from Boston Pocket. Without another thought, he parallel-parked his Santorini black Jaguar into the freshly vacated spot with ease.

It was a cool morning for late August, and he promised himself he'd go for a jog after breakfast. After all, God may have felt Tobias deserved that sandwich, but He wasn’t ensuring his toned abs. Nope, that rested squarely on him.

Bells jingled, and a delightful aroma wafted over Tobias as he opened the door. He inhaled deeply to take it all in. Yep, this would be well worth an extended jog.

"Whose next?" A young man barked from behind the counter.

Tobias raised a hand. "Bacon, egg, and cheese on a Kaiser roll. Salt and pepper."

"Want ketchup?"

"Do I look like a heathen to you?" Tobias leered, and the young man's grin made it clear that he shared his sentiments.

"Coming right up!"

With nothing to do but wait, he rested his elbow against the counter to take in the sights. Tobias Carrick had an unrivaled ability to look like he belonged anywhere, and this was no exception. So as he blended into the background, he quietly watched everyone who didn't.

The older woman dripping in diamonds and expensive designer clothes, a little dog resting comfortably in a Louis Vuitton carrier. He couldn't imagine what she was doing here. Of course, she probably knew this dive had the best breakfast in Boston, money be damned. Two high school kids uncrumpled the bills in their hands to find they did have enough to add homefries to their order. Then there was the cute little brunette with her shapely legs well-displayed in a tiny black linen skirt and matching high heels. Her eyes were waiting to meet his as they trailed slowly over her body, and he took the smirk on her cherry-stained lips as an invitation that he was eager to accept. He was about to take a step in her direction when a melodic laugh from the booth behind him created a distraction.

"It sure would!" The beguiling beauty beamed, mindlessly tucking an errant strand of her long, golden locks behind her ear. All at once, Tobis felt compelled to learn what “it” was and what it was going to do?

With the brunette who had held his attention moments before forgotten, he couldn't peel his eyes off this new vision. He stared, spellbound, as she animatedly waved her hands and joyfully conversed with her companion. Tobias Carrick observed for a living, and he had assessed her in mere moments. He was confident that no one could make a ratty, old Henley and a likely decades-old pair of jeans look that good so effortlessly, and that smile could not be faked. There was something so genuine about her, and he couldn’t look away.

He let out a little chuckle when he noticed her morning beverage of choice: a chocolate milkshake with the whipped cream already scooped off. He wasn't sure if it was revolting or adorable. If attributed to anyone else, the prior may have been the victor, but in this case, the latter undeniably won. His breath hitched when she leaned over and wrapped her lips around the straw. Never in his life was he more jealous of an inanimate object.

That solidified it. He had to work his way into their conversation. He was not leaving without her number, but how? He continued to watch her serendipitously, a pleasant smirk on his lips when he heard a loud crash.

The doctor in him took over, and he rushed toward the man collapsed on the floor, but, to his shock, the object of his affection had beat him to it.

"I’m getting his pulse!” The beauty yelled.

Was she a doctor?

“Sir!” Her companion hollered and pointed directly at him. “I need you to call 911!”

“I’m dialing now.”

He watched carefully, ready to jump in if needed, but he was a physician long enough to know that too many cooks spoil the soup, and the two women had things under control. Well, at least one of them did.

“Thank God you stopped me, Aurora!”

Thank God, indeed. He thought, then his eyes widened… Aurora? Could that be?

The paramedics barreled through the front door and made a beeline to the patient on the floor.

“Dr. Emery, what have we got?”

A smug smile came to his lips. It was her.

With the situation well under control, Tobias pulled out his phone and began texting rapidly.

… still want to snag Harper Emery?

… has she been receptive to you?

…. I’ve got an idea…

He looked up from his phone, dismayed to find Harper Emery’s niece and her stunning companion were gone.

“Shit!” he muttered, reminding himself they couldn’t have gone far.

“They were the doctors that just helped that man, right?”

The waiter stood before the abandoned table, holding a tray of food as the server behind the counter nodded.

“At least it wasn’t an eat-and-ditch,” the young man shrugged. “They didn’t eat and only ditched to save a guy's life.”

“Hey,” Tobias jumped in. “Do me a favor. Pack their food up… right away!”

“Were you with them?” the waiter asked.

Tobias pulled a hundred-dollar bill from his pocket and handed it to the waiter. “Too many questions!” He spat. “Wrap the food and give it to me… quick… oh, and keep the change!”

“I’m on it!” The waiter grinned, handing Tobias a brown paper bag in a flash.

The bells that had greeted him upon entering now heralded his exit as he rushed outside. The two women were half a block away, well within catching distance.

“Doctors! Wait!” he yelled. “You forgot your breakfast!”

He had a definitive purpose now, and he knew what needed to be done. Still, it took all his strength to forget about wooing the young Dr. Emery to Kenmore. Every primal instinct within him was screaming to forget everything except getting this angel’s phone number. But when he stood before them, he handed the bag to Aurora.

“Oh, thanks!” The young Emery smiled. “Can I pay you for this?”

“Don’t mention it,” he said with his signature grin. If there was one thing he knew how to do, it was charm. “I’m more than happy to treat a couple of heroes to breakfast.”

“Oh, we’re not heroes,” Emery replied. He may have been focusing on her, but his peripheral vision was finely tuned in to her friend, and was she ever checking him out.

“You were really something back there,” he continued.

He was impressed with his ability to focus. After all, luring Harper Emery to Kenmore would be a huge feather in his cap, and getting her niece there first could be just the ticket. This would really impress the top brass, and he had reason to want to do that. There was only one Aurora Emery. Pretty women, were a dime a dozen, right? If this one slipped through his fingers, there’d be another… eye on the prize. Then, she had to go and speak.

“She’s one of the best doctors at Edenbrook,” the beauty chimed in.

“I don’t doubt it,” he said with a broadened smile. God, she sounded like an angel. Focus! “It takes a very cool head under pressure to catch a detail like a cyanosis.”

Somehow, he managed to keep the conversation on point, wrapping it up by placing his business card into Aurora’s hands.

“Let me know if you’re ever looking for a change of pace.”

Less than a second after completing his task, the little head regained control of the big one. His eyes slowly raked over the tall beauty at Aurora’s side. He could feel the heat emanating between them, and he knew she felt it, too, when he saw the delicate blush on her cheeks. OK, she was interested. And when their eyes met, he was careful to not look away. He wanted to ask for her name. Her number. Could he buy her a coffee? Any chance she’d ditch her friend and grab breakfast with him? But he thought better of it and offered an enticing smile instead. He had to play this right, but this was not over.

After exchanging goodbyes, he turned and jogged back to the deli. But when he reached the door, he couldn’t help but look back once more. And was he ever happy that he did. He smiled with delight when he saw her staring right back at him. With his ego fully restored, he gave her a little wink before returning inside.

No. This was not over, and this is not where their story ended. If Tobias knew anything, he knew that he would see to that.

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