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kristinamae093 · 6 months

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Ghosted

Ghosted - Altering Visions (Chapter Eleven)

Series Summary - Prince Liam fell for Riley Brooks hard and fast. A marriage filled with love and devotion was within his reach. But everything changed when she vanished just before the end of the social season. As everyone voices their concerns regarding her scandalous departure, a confession from an unlikely source turns Liam's world upside down and makes him question everything around him.

Book/Pairing - TRR - Liam x f!MC (Riley Brooks)

A/N 1 - This AU starts right before the beginning of the engagement tour. There is a two-month lapse between the coronation and where we pick up, but we will stray from canon. Please excuse any errors found.

A/N 2 - It's been a while 🥲. Here's hoping it doesn't take me another six months to post the next chapter 😬🫡.

PSA it's a long one. Whoops, lol.

Characters belong to Pixelberry.

Liam fluttered his eyes open a short time later and squinted them against the harsh, blinding light blocking his view. When he took a deep breath, a distinct, stale aroma invaded his senses; it sparked some kind of recognition even before he could fully view his surroundings. He slowly sat up with a groan and blinked until his vision centered. He glanced around and noticed the outdated wood panels, along with the oval shape of the sconces. There was only one estate in all of Cordonia with those outdated features, and he noted that fact immediately.

Panic flourished through his body as Liam realized he awoke in Applewood.

He frantically stood with labored breaths and patted his abdomen, almost to ensure he was real. He pinched his thigh and winced, afterward placing a trembling hand on the wall to steady himself. His mind raced as he tried to comprehend what transpired and how he’d gotten there to begin with.

The events of the night suddenly invaded his thoughts. The image of a lifeless Penelope in Landon’s arms engraved and forever etched itself into his memory; he felt guilty, enraged, defeated, and a slew of other emotions.

Penelope was the big break they’d hunted high and low for. She held vital information Liam desperately needed, but seemingly would take her secrets to the grave with her. He couldn’t understand any of it — nothing made sense. The list of unanswered questions swirling around was enough to make him nauseous. A carousel of sorrow and confusion he couldn’t seem to slow down — no matter how hard he tried.

Amid his tilt-a-whirl moment, an angelic voice rang out not far away, drawing him back to the present. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Liam’s thundering heart suddenly stopped as recognition swept over him. He’d been so entrapped in his thoughts, he hadn't even noticed what portion of the estate he was in.

Only a few inches away was a door he remembered all too well — Riley’s. His eyes welled with tears as his vision centered on the structure, but as much as Liam wanted to rush to her, he physically couldn’t. The receptors in his brain went crazy — a jolt of electricity shot to his legs, demanding he move, but his feet weighed hundreds of pounds. Dazed and confused, he could only gawk at the blockade separating them.

“Lady Riley, we have much to discuss — have a seat,” another individual answered. Liam knew it was a male but couldn’t place his identity; although it sounded familiar, as if he could remember it from a vague, distant memory.

“Tell me who you are and what the hell you’re doing here!” Liam’s blood ran cold at Riley’s tone; the fear and adrenaline were prominent in her shaky voice. His breaths quickened and his instincts screamed to rush to her, but again, his feet refused to cooperate.

“That wasn’t a request — I told you to have a seat.” Again, Liam swore he could recall that voice, but couldn’t fully register it. He thought about it for a split second until the sounds of a loud screech and a shatter echoed behind the door.

“Don’t touch me!” Riley hollered, instantly breaking Liam’s trance. He lunged for the doorknob, but when he twisted his wrist, it snapped and turned to dust in his palm. The disintegrated fragments floated to the floor in slow motion, his heart following suit.

“You’re so beautiful when you squirm.” Liam gasped as he fully recognized that person — it was Tariq. “But if you don’t fucking stand still–”

“Riley! RILEY!” Liam forcefully pounded on the structure. “Open this door! Open it, goddamnit!” He bellowed, but the commotion inside continued, escalating by the second. The next instant, he sprinted down the hall, frantically hunting for somebody — anybody — to get him inside that room. “I need some help!” He hauled over to the other side and yelled once more, but faced only cold, deserted silence.

His vision darted all around the area before he spotted a window at the end of the seemingly never-ending hallway. Liam sprinted to it and gazed at the scene below. Outside, he could see the country jamboree still in full swing. He scoured the crowd and spotted everyone except Riley; Drake, Hana, Madeleine, and upon further inspection, he saw himself at the head table beside his father. He stumbled backward with a strangled breath, truly dumbfounded by what was going on.

As Liam recovered, he re-approached the window and banged on it. “Hey! Hey!” He wailed, but nobody below batted an eye. His hits came harder and harder, but the glass never even cracked; his hand took the damage, although he felt no pain.

The only thing he heard was Riley’s pleas for help, the sounds making his desperation grow by the second. He rushed back to the door and ran full force at it, using his shoulder as a battering ram; it wouldn’t budge. He repeated the process — again and again — but never even split the wood. Liam let out a primal wail and fisted his hair, taking deep breaths to preserve any semblance of sanity. His pulse thundered in his ears and tears stung the corners of his eyes, while he frantically determined what to do.

He took a step back and realized there was a shadow cast over the doorway. It appeared to be a man, standing with his arms crossed. He wasn’t sure if it was there before, but Liam waved his hand and nothing changed the stony silhouette. The fixture remained cemented in place, not flinching or moving a muscle, regardless of the commotion developing beyond.

“LIAM!” Riley suddenly screamed, ripping him from his trance. He was up against the structure in an instant, using every ounce of strength he had to force his way through, but his attempts were futile. Riley repeatedly called for him and every time, a dagger went straight through Liam’s already hollowed-out chest.

He couldn’t control his overflowing tears at hearing her cry out for him. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get inside; they wouldn’t acknowledge him, nobody came to help, and there was nothing he could do except sit and listen. With a loud sob, he slid down the door and sat in front of it, hoping at some point it would open and he could get to her.

Riley’s whimpers continued throughout the vicinity, but Liam’s skin turned ice cold as he heard laughter inside; not Riley’s, and certainly not cheerful. The vile sound caused all the color to drain from his face. He leaned his head against the door and completely broke down, letting the devastation and defeat wash over him.

“I — I’m sorry Riley…” He swallowed thickly, but soon let out an anguished cry. “I’m so sorry…”

The room went eerily quiet for a long while; Liam couldn’t hear much except the sound of his heart shattering, but eventually, the voices began once more. With a shuddered breath, he held his ear up to listen.

“When will I receive payment?” Tariq questioned.

“You don’t need to worry about that. Where you’re going, you won’t need it.”

“W–what do you mean?! I did what I was called to do!” Tariq’s panic was clear to Liam, even without seeing his face. His pulse somehow thundered faster, carefully processing every word.

“There is too much at stake — more than your simple mind could ever understand. For this to work, you need to disappear. You’re a weak, pathetic excuse of a man — we can not risk this entire operation being ousted because of a lousy nuisance.”

“I swear to it — you have my allegiance and my silence.” Tariq pleaded. “I will disappear, and—”

“You’re going to, alright — the both of you.”

What little color remaining in Liam’s complexion drained, and the shakiness in his hands amplified. After a split-second of complete and utter stillness, the phrase resonated and ignited a deadly determination within.

Liam sprung up and kicked the door with all his might. “LET ME IN!” He repeated the process, but again, the barrier showed no signs of weakening. He threw his fists at the structure in a mad frenzy — anything to get inside and get to Riley, then deal with this — man.

“Liam! Liam! LIAM!” Leo yelled. He repetitively jabbed the button next to Liam's head to summon the nurse, as his brother flailed in his hospital bed.

Liam was being monitored for dehydration, severe exhaustion, and a touch of malnutrition. Doctors said he had a panic attack, which combined with everything else, made him lose consciousness. All his labs came back normal, thankfully; Leo was worried someone could have slipped Liam something, but the hospital was quick to put that suspicion to rest.

Since Liam arrived, he had been resting comfortably, but that changed about twenty minutes ago; it started with small groans and subtle movements, but soon turned into blood-curdling cries and forceful thrashes. Leo hoped he would wake himself, but Liam was getting drastically worse with every passing second.

Liam suddenly flew forward with a loud gasp. His tearful eyes darted all around the room while he grabbed at his gown-covered body. As the world centered, a tidal wave of frustration and confusion washed over him.

When Liam stopped and stared down at his clasped hands, Leo cautiously re-approached the bed. “Liam?” When he didn’t answer, Leo spoke a little louder. “... Li?”

“I was there.” Liam weakly croaked, his vision locked on his lap.

Leo’s brows furrowed. “Where?”

“I heard it.”

“Heard what?”

“Riley…” Liam whispered, followed by a shuddered breath.

“What about her?”

“I was there… th–that night… just n–now—” Liam stammered, struggling to make sense of the situation. “I couldn’t get in…”

Leo’s heart instantly shattered at seeing the devastation in Liam’s features. “They gave you some medication, Li.” He reasoned. “It’s possible that—”

“I KNOW WHAT I HEARD!” Liam bellowed. The nurse appeared next to him and attempted to speak, but he shouted, “GET OUT!”

Leo lifted his hands in surrender. “I believe you, Liam… Tell me what happened.”

“She yelled for me…” Liam faintly answered, refusing to make eye contact. “She yelled and screamed and — I couldn’t get inside, Leo... I tried, but — I — I… I couldn’t save her…”

Leo took a deep breath to gather his thoughts and responded in a calm, reassuring voice. “Liam, it’s been a long couple of days and I know this has been incredibly rough on you–”

“STOP PATRONIZING ME! I KNOW WHAT I HEARD!”

Leo remained reluctant to entertain this idea. He knew Liam was dreaming, but at that moment, he was completely irrational. Leo had never seen him in such a way, even when his mother died. Given the past couple of weeks, the events of that night, and the medication, there was no rationalizing with him — Liam was spiraling, and bad. But perhaps if he entertained the notion — for now — Liam would eventually calm down.

Leo carefully spoke. “What did you hear?”

Liam stayed silent for a long moment before he turned his head to meet eyes with Leo. The look on Liam’s face slightly took him aback; the determination in his features was deadly — his sunken, puffy eyes were nearly black.

Liam let out a long, sharp huff of air and sternly explained, “There were two male voices. I can say with confidence one was Tariq, but as far as the other, I — I don’t know…” He shook his head with furrowed brows as he racked every recollection in his brain. He could almost visualize the man in question, but his face appeared blurred and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t clear the fog.

“Alright, well, let’s just take a minute to—”

“They were fucking laughing, Leo. They assaulted her and laughed about it.” Liam growled, his chest rising and falling with every sullen breath. “I want Tariq found, now. He’s going to pay for ever laying a fucking finger on her. I swear to God, Leo — I will put an end to his sorry existence with my bare hands.” He clenched his palms, squeezing hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

Leo once again held his hands up in surrender and replied in a soft voice. “I believe you. Just — take a couple of deep breaths and try to relax—”

“What if she didn’t leave Cordonia?” Liam suddenly blurted out. “What if she’s…” He trailed off, swallowing thickly. No part of him wanted to finish that statement in any fashion; the unending possibilities gave him instant nausea. “That man… he said, ‘where you’re going you won’t need it’, and then h–he said both of you... BOTH OF YOU, Leo!” He ran his palms over his head from front to back, repeating the process with a crazed look in his eye.

Leo opened his mouth to speak, but Liam swiftly continued. “It would make sense… Tariq has been untraceable… But–but Riley…. She — Bastien told me she went back to New York. But that person… I know I heard him say it… Where you’re going you won’t need it, where you’re going you won’t need it—” He repeated to himself, his voice diminishing with every anguished syllable. He clutched his hands into fists and forcefully yanked at his hair, rocking himself back and forth.

“Li,” Leo cautiously started. When Liam whipped his head to look at him, Leo was once more temporarily shocked by the fury and turmoil staring back at him; he realized Liam was hastily elevating himself to a dangerous level. “We can’t jump to conclusions… Okay? Let’s just take a deep breath and try to calm down—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Leo! I KNOW WHAT I HEARD!” Liam shouted as he ripped the IV from his arm, the pain not even phasing him. He ditched the rest of his connections shortly after and dashed out of bed. “Where are my CLOTHES?”

“I’m not saying you didn’t,” Leo reasoned as he followed his brother’s movements. “All I’m suggesting is that we take a step back and really think about this—”

“I’m tired of taking a step back! Look where that’s gotten us!” Liam seethed. “There is so much goddamn blood on my hands! I let her get hurt! I am responsible for all of this madness—”

“Stop that — right now,” Leo sternly returned. “You know that is not true even in the slightest.”

“Say it to MY FACE then, Leo!” Liam barked as he invaded his brother’s personal space. “LIE to my fucking face!”

“It’s not a lie, Liam,” Leo stood a little taller. “You are not responsible–” He stopped as Liam rolled his eyes and looked away. This time, it was Leo who stepped up to Liam. “No — look at me,” He bore his eyes into his brother, forcing him to see the truth in his gaze. “You are not responsible for any of this, Liam. We’re going to figure this out, I promise.”

Liam studied the conviction staring back at him and his frustration soared. He spun away and grabbed the bedside table, sending it flying with a primal roar.

Leo flinched as the wood shattered against the wall, but knew he had to calm Liam down. However, the person he was trying to reason with was not the version of Liam he was used to; this was a side Leo didn’t know lay dormant in his normally calm and stoic baby brother.

“Liam,” Leo softly started. “This is an incredibly shitty situation, and I’m so sorry that you’re being put through this. I love you, and I’m always here for you no matter what.” He confidently stated, but after a moment of silence, hesitantly added, “But I just don’t think a dream is—”

“I don’t give a damn what you say, Leo! Someone is going to pay for this!” Liam growled, his face reddening with every deep, labored breath. He directed his attention back to his earlier quest for his clothes; he didn’t know where he was going or who he was looking for, but someone was going to feel the wrath of the King of Cordonia — tonight.

Olivia didn’t even bother to knock before she and Ray joined the room. The pair opted to stay behind and investigate in Portavira a little further — that is until a random guard threw them out. Without Liam or Leo there to ensure their access, they were told to vacate the premises shortly after Liam left for the hospital. Regardless, they had enough time to prove at least one pivotal thing about that ordeal, and possibly solve quite a few others — if Liam believed them.

They walked in and stopped short at Liam’s crazed expression. “What’s going on?” Olivia sought.

“I’m leaving,” Liam bit out through clenched teeth.

“Hold on, we need to talk about something—”

“Move out of my way!”

Olivia arched her brow. “We need transparency, Liam. Tell me what is going on — calmly.”

“I was there, Olivia! I heard it! They fucking attacked her!” Liam bellowed as he found his garments and rifled through the bag.

Olivia placed a gentle hand on his shoulder to stop his mad dash. “Liam, please — I need a full explanation. I’m not stopping you or downplaying anything, but we need to know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Liam met her eyesight and saw the genuine interest in her gaze. He could tell Leo thought he was baffling, but he wasn’t. He couldn’t fathom the experience, but knew that was no dream; with every fiber of his being, Liam believed what he heard was reality. The universe mercilessly gifted him a blocked front-row seat — it was a curse, yet oddly a blessing. They spent all this time wondering what happened that night, but now he had a soundtrack to re-play. He wasn’t willing to rest until he deciphered this code, to ensure justice would be swift to all who deserved it.

He explained in great detail his occurrence and exactly what happened. When he finished, he stared blankly at the floor, cradling his head in his trembling hands; he knew how wild it sounded but didn’t particularly care. It felt so real — so raw. Just thinking about the vile chortles raised goosebumps on his arms, and Riley’s screams now played on an insistent loop in his mind — torment that would never stop. Even if good trumped evil and Riley was located safely in the end, those sounds would be a continuous source of torture until he took his final breath.

Olivia listened intently to everything he recalled. At the surface, she knew how preposterous it sounded — it was a dream, regardless of how strongly Liam felt otherwise. Her heart ached for her friend at that moment; clearly, everything that happened was taking a major toll on her childhood friend.

But — given the bombshell she and Ray sat upon, Olivia couldn’t help but wonder if there could be some truth to Liam’s encounter.

Olivia sat forward and patted Liam’s leg with the gentlest of touches. When she spoke, it was calm and reassuring. “I’m not sure what to say, Liam. I realize you want to believe it to be true, but you and I both know it’s nothing concrete…” Liam opened his mouth to respond, but Olivia held her hand up to stop him, as she saw the fire burning behind his narrowed eyes. “Let me finish… I know tonight has been hard on you for a lot of reasons, but I believe Ray and I have found a very promising lead…”

Liam’s ears visibly rose as his interest grew. “What do you mean?”

“Sir, I know it’s not what you initially hired me for, but there are a lot of things that do not add up in this current situation...” Ray started. “Between some of Lady Penelope’s behaviors, her father’s statements, and this—” He produced his phone from his pocket and handed it to Liam. “I find it very hard to believe she took her own life.”

Liam glanced at the device in his hands and realized he was looking at a photo of Penelope’s last statements. He read through it and found nothing of relevance; no mention of Riley, her involvement in the scandal, the maid, nothing. It was incredibly vague, considering it was her concluding words to the world.

“Why are you showing me this?” Liam demanded as confusion and annoyance rushed through him.

Olivia produced a document from her pocket. After questioning the legitimacy of the note left in Riley’s room, she wanted to have it near in case the situation arose. “You remember my blackmail letter — the one I got the night of your coronation?” She handed him the paper.

Liam held both items and scanned back and forth; he gasped when he realized they were nearly identical. “But, this — this means—”

“Someone took her out, Liam.” Olivia finished.

“I’m not positive if someone would have done it for her, or if she felt pressured into doing it. Either way, since she was saying goodbyes to her family, that leads me to believe Penelope knew she was in danger and foresaw her demise.” Ray added.

“This is impossible!” Liam shook his head, his rage returning full force. “How does this keep happening?!”

Olivia and Ray shared a look; the two calculated a theory, and it seemed the more that unfolded, the greater that assumption solidified itself. There wasn’t a lot of evidence to point fingers, but Olivia realized they couldn’t wait any longer; if they were correct, this situation just escalated tenfold. Liam already teetered an incredibly dangerous ledge, but perhaps that’s what the circumstances called for. Plus, after his — experience, she knew he would believe them.

Olivia softly started. “I need you to stay as calm as possible — at least until I’m finished and we know for certain who we’re directing this hostility at.” Liam nodded with furrowed brows, but Leo shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I don’t know what to say about your — encounter, but — there is reason for us to believe Riley could be in Cordonia.”

“WHAT?!” Liam practically choked as all the color drained from his face. Even though he was there and truly believed what he heard, someone else saying it out loud momentarily knocked the wind out of him.

“I checked all outgoing flights from the night of the jamboree and she wasn’t on any of them,” Ray explained. “Every log received a thorough examination, even those with different destinations — she has yet to board a plane to exit the country, to this day. I’ve looked at other modes of transportation and she is the same as Tariq — there is nothing.”

“But…” Leo hesitantly started after a moment of tense silence. “If that’s the case, then where is she?”

Olivia sighed and her eyes softened. “We’re — not entirely sure at this point… Somewhere in Cordonia, but…”

“Believe me when I say I am checking everywhere.” Ray confidently inserted. “Every crack, every crevice — any place I can think of. If she truly is in the country, I will locate her.”

“Okay, but — why haven’t we found her?” Leo returned. The uneasiness in his stomach suddenly bolted to the back of his throat, securing itself and taking root. As he took in Ray’s uncertainty, the lump multiplied in size.

“I — I don’t have an answer for that right now,” Ray calmly returned. “But I’m working around the clock and using every resource I have to uncover her location. I know those sound like empty promises, but I assure you — I will not rest until Lady Riley is located safely.” He emphasized.

Liam’s heart pounded so fast, he was sure it would give out at any moment. “I — She — B–but —” He stammered, trying his hardest to comprehend the conversation. “Bastien told me—”

“I think Bastien is involved.” Olivia abruptly cut him off. “When we found Riley’s stuff, I swear to you, Liam, I saw the fucking guilt in his eyes. Plus, he’s got his hands in everything at court. I’m not saying he’s as powerful as you, but he can twist and manipulate things like no other because of his position.”

Olivia continued. “To be honest with you, I don’t think any of us really believe Penelope killed that maid. During the social season, I saw her cry over a fucking crab bite — you can’t tell me she murdered someone in cold blood. Also, I’m thinking, based on his actions tonight, Bastien knew Penelope was already dead — I’m nearly certain of it.”

“Not to mention, he kept this information to himself until we were ready to question her,” Ray added. “I know for certain those reports take only a few days — most likely less if it’s a priority case. I haven’t seen the photos from your first crime scene, but I can tell it was a setup from Olivia’s descriptions. As the head guard, it would’ve been easy for him to manipulate the situation.”

“Are you sure, though?” Leo interjected. “I mean, I’ve dealt with Bastien a lot over the years, and I can say he is not a genius. Maybe the opposite — butter knives are sharper than he is.”

“He’s capable, though — that’s what troubles me. I think most of the time he gives off the impression he’s useless, but he’s highly trained in a sum of areas.” Olivia explained. “I sincerely doubt he’s the mastermind behind everything, but I’m confident he’s the reason we keep being set back. Who’s always around? Who’s the one directing these ‘investigations’? It’s him.“

“I — damn…” Leo ran a hand through his hair with wide eyes. “You’re not wrong, and it does kind of make sense…”

Everyone suddenly recognized Liam remained mute as they spoke. His face showed no emotions; he only stared at Olivia as if she wasn’t even there with an unreadable expression. Liam was a world away as various open ends snapped themselves into place. The murky waters of uncertainty clarified, and the bottom of the cesspool became sharper with every jumbled thought dashing through his mind.

All security decisions went through Bastien, including unauthorized entry into an estate. Bastien was the one investigating the maid’s death, and he was accountable for the search for Riley and Tariq — until Ray came along. Bastien didn’t want to let Ray into Penelope’s room because he knew what was in there, and realized Ray would see right through it; past the stuff even Olivia would have missed. He could outsmart her, but knew he couldn’t Ray, which ultimately meant Bastien knew of Ray’s true purpose. He continuously told Liam he was working to provide answers, but suddenly, he believed Bastien’s intentions to be the exact opposite.

This whole time, a mole sat right under his nose, continuously feeding them the vaguest of answers. Every time they took a step forward, it was never because of Bastien, but someone always ensured they took two back. He didn’t understand how whoever held the cards seemed to be a move ahead, but now — it made sense.

Liam thought back to all these instances and realized he didn’t remember seeing Bastien. The night of the country jamboree, a different person escorted him to his room at the end of the night. He never questioned it because it wasn’t unheard of for guards to switch out positions, but now he wondered where Bastien truly was.

The night of the Apple Banquet, he recalled seeing him at the start of it, but not again until Bastien barged in to inform him of the discovery. Now, he couldn’t help but speculate Bastien took the maid’s life himself, or at least staged the scene to frame Penelope.

Tonight, before Bastien came to Liam and gave him the news of their suspect, he was nowhere to be found; until Olivia, Ray, and Leo left to interrogate Penelope.

When Bastien told Liam their person of interest was Penelope, he was in a state of disbelief. Liam questioned him, but Bastien stood his ground. However, now he believed with everything in him, Bastien knew she was already dead and intended to manipulate the circumstances further.

Since he opened his eyes to the truth, he often felt as if he mindlessly ran in a circle, desperately trying to piece small portions of a scattered puzzle together. Now he realized he was — and Bastien directed the never-ending laps, all while dangling tiny slivers of hope in front of Liam’s face — taunting him.

Ultimately, Liam concluded without a shadow of uncertainty — Bastien knew what happened to Riley, and likely held knowledge regarding her location.

Liam suddenly shot up from the edge of his hospital bed. “BASTIEN!” He bellowed at an ear-piercing volume, loud enough to rattle the windows.

Leo winced. “H–he’s not here, Li.”

“What the fuck do you mean, he’s not here?!”

“There’s some other guy outside!”

“He was still lingering around Penelope’s room when Ray and I left.” Olivia chimed in.

“That’s it — I’m going to find him,” Liam growled through clenched jaws.

“Liam, wait—”

“NO MORE WAITING, OLIVIA! Do you see what is happening?! All the blood that’s being shed?! This has to stop!”

“I know and I agree. But we need some kind of strategy–”

“No — this ends now.” Liam bit out. He hastily made his way to the bathroom with his bag of clothes, slamming the door shut behind him.

Olivia had half a mind to stop Liam until they had some kind of plan, but also felt time was of the essence. If they couldn’t prove Riley left the country, their urgency had to intensify. Her location remained unknown, but they believed she was at least in New York. When Ray first mentioned the possibility that she never left the country, Olivia didn’t want to believe it; after Penelope’s untimely demise, she realized this was a vicious, bloody pattern, and the suspicion needed to be taken seriously.

As the body count rose, Olivia’s concerns steadily increased. If history repeated itself, everyone involved would meet a deadly fate, but they didn’t have a detailed log of all entangled in this web. They had no clue where Riley’s name lay on the list of potential victims, and now they held very little information regarding her whereabouts. An involuntary shudder traveled down Olivia’s spine as the air in the room shifted, filling with an amplified haze of grim uncertainty felt heavily by everyone.

Olivia wholeheartedly believed Riley was alive, but for how much longer she couldn’t determine. The lingering feelings of uneasiness in her gut told her they were correct — she never left Cordonia — and if that was the case, her safety was more in question now than ever before.

Within the hour, Liam left the hospital and was on his way back to the main estate in Portavira. Although doctors wished to keep him longer, he left AMA — he didn’t need fluids; he didn’t need rest; he needed Riley. If Bastien knew something, he was going to tell them, even if he had to use brute force.

A part of him didn’t want to believe it, but the more he pondered, the more sense it made. A small portion of his heart wanted to give Bastien the benefit of the doubt, but that was no longer an option. The betrayal Liam felt was like no other and quickly created a raging storm inside of him, simply waiting to be unleashed.

Hearing Riley could still be in Cordonia, combined with his out-of-body experience, the need to locate her was higher than ever. Of course, he wondered where she ended up when he believed she went back to the States, but now even that was up in the air. The one thing holding Liam above water was knowing she was far away from the carnage, but that was no longer a valid crutch. The waves of despair rose dangerously high, threatening to overtake and drag him under in one fell swoop.

Liam tried his hardest to push the instantaneous bad thoughts away, but could feel it in his bones — Riley was in danger. From the beginning, he’d always thought something felt off, but he let his pride stand in the way of seeing the truth. Now it was impossible to ignore, as it tore away at his conscience. Guilty wasn’t even a suitable word to describe how he felt, knowing his negligence let this monstrosity escalate as it had. He turned his back on Riley when she needed him most; she screamed for him, yet he tried his damnedest to leave her in the past for so long.

However, he used all his willpower to remain in the moment and stay afloat; the only thing he cared about was Riley. Even if they found her and she wanted nothing to do with him, he simply needed to see with his own two eyes that she was safe. He didn’t want to think about why she could still be in Cordonia, but the growing ache in his chest told him it wasn’t a good reason.

The SUV pulled up to the front entrance of the estate, and Liam didn’t even wait for it to come to a complete stop. He rushed out and barged in through the front doors with fire under his feet. The halls remained eerily quiet as the nobility slept, but he was sure word traveled about not only his hospital stay but Penelope’s tragic passing. Leo, Olivia, and Ray all trailed behind as he ran at top speed.

Liam dashed up the stairs and rounded the corner, but abruptly stopped once Penelope’s room came into view. The door had yellow caution tape covering the opening, and Liam heard Bastien’s voice inside; the sound reigniting the rage burning deep within. He went to make a bee-line for the door, but a timid hand on his forearm ceased his movements.

“Y–Your Majesty,” Emmaline got out through hiccups. She retracted her hand with wide eyes and shakily bowed as he faced her. Liam’s features momentarily softened as he took in her running mascara and puffy eyes. “P–Please, Sir… I beg you to reconsider… Please — s–she wouldn’t d–do this…”

Liam’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“We were told they’ve ruled Penelope’s d–death… They w–were picking everything up but n–nobody would listen to us! That wasn’t her handwriting. She–she wouldn’t do this… None of it… She was happy — she wouldn’t—” Emmaline shook her head as more tears fell.

Liam placed a gentle hand on Emmaline’s shoulder and firmly responded, “I apologize for what you were told, but that is not the case — it will become a homicide investigation as soon as I can get someone else assigned. I promise you — I am going to figure out what happened and ensure she receives the justice she deserves.”

Emmaline swallowed a sob. “W–where did they take her body? They wouldn’t tell us. T–they came in and ripped my baby out of my arms and I don’t know where she is and—”

“Wait, who took her?”

“Your head guard said h–he had the authority to — remove her.” Emmaline squeezed her eyes closed as her tears fell harder, trying her hardest to wake herself from this nightmare.

Liam used every ounce of resolve he had not to march straight up to Bastien and securely wrap a hand around his throat. “Emmaline, I assure you — I will find her and bring her home. You have my word — I am going to figure this out.” He reiterated, but the fury coursing through his veins was at an all-time high. The amount Bastien thought he could get away with made Liam sick to his stomach, but he was determined to put a stop to it.

His answers were suffusive for Emmaline, so she bowed and made her leave. After taking a microscopic moment to gain some clarity, Liam addressed Ray. “Since I am removing Bastien, I need you to take over. And I want you to backtrack and look into Rhonda’s homicide as well. I’m not sure if you’ll be able to find anything, but I want you to double-check. I’ll ensure you have access to everything you need, and I’ll inform everyone you are now in charge here. The crown will compensate you generously for your additional time and effort.”

“Yes, sir,” Ray returned with a confident smile.

“Leo, I need you to figure out where he’s sending Penelope. I’m going to ask him, but in case he won’t tell me, I need her found before anyone messes with or blatantly destroys her body — there is no doubt in my mind that’s where she’s headed. Grab Maxwell and have him help you — I want her returned at once.”

“You got it.” Leo nodded before he swiftly vacated the area.

“I’m going to need some guards with me to do this,” Liam spoke, more so to himself than anyone else.

“Guards?” Olivia repeated.

“Yes. I won’t risk something happening to him — we will immediately detain Bastien. If he did nothing wrong, I’ll release and reinstate him, but until then, I am officially removing him from his position as head guard.” Liam answered, but regardless of what he said out loud, both of them knew Bastien was guilty; they just weren’t sure of the extent.

Olivia smirked. “Welcome to the game, King Liam. Would you like for me to assist with questioning?”

“I have a different job for you first. I need you to sneak into the security office and search through everything. If he’s working to cover up crimes or anything of that nature, he’s got to have something on him — I’m sure of it.”

“Knowing that cockeyed baboon, I’d say that’s a safe assumption.” Olivia snickered. “But I don’t know if I like the idea of you interrogating him by yourself...” She cast him an unsure glance.

“I don’t plan on it, Liv. I just need to find Drake.”

Almost as if on cue, Drake emerged from Penelope’s doorway, carefully dodging the caution tape. He glanced around and as his eyesight landed on Liam, he furrowed his brows and approached. “What’re you doing here, Li? Are you alright?”

“We have something to take care of.” Liam quickly and quietly laid out the current plan, as well as a vague description of their accusations.

“Fuck, man… I gotta admit — I had no clue why Liv and that guy had to leave, but I got to stick around.” Drake shook his head, trying to comprehend this blindsiding revelation.

“If I had to take a guess, I’d say he wanted someone Liam trusted around but needed to ensure the person was completely and utterly clueless,” Olivia inserted with a crooked grin.

Drake scoffed. “First of all, fuck you. Second, you might actually be right, but — you’re still a flaming bitch.”

“Stop trying to flatter me, Walker,” Olivia retorted, afterward focusing on Liam. “Are we doing this?”

Liam let out a deep huff of air. “Yeah, we are. Let’s do this.” He responded with the utmost resolution. He squared his shoulders, craned his neck from side to side, and strode into the room with Drake close behind. Olivia took off in the other direction to do her part in Liam’s plan, moving with brisk precision to reach her destination.

As he entered, Liam got the attention of a few guards and motioned for them to follow. Bastien examined underneath Penelope’s bed, completely oblivious to the added presence in the room. He cleared his throat to gather Bastien’s attention, and Liam noticed his shoulders tense as he identified who stood before him.

Bastien slowly rose with uncertainty painted on his features. “Your Majesty? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be receiving treatment?”

Liam chortled as he stalked toward Bastien. He kept a smile plastered in place and shook his head, muttering to himself. When he made it directly in front of him, Liam lowered his voice to a low, gravely rumble; the fake grin he wore instantly replaced by a menacing scowl. “... I bet you’d like that — wouldn’t you?”

Bastien visibly and audibly swallowed. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, sir, but I—”

“Of course not.” Liam dismissively agreed. He took a couple of steps back and shrugged. “Regardless, you’re coming with us.”

Panic flashed in Bastien’s eyes; it was brief, but Liam caught it. “With all due respect, I’m not quite finished investigating Lady Penelope’s suic—”

“That is not what this is, and you damn well know it!” Liam abruptly shouted. A tense silence hung for only a moment until he cleared his throat and flatly added, “This is a homicide, and you are no longer a part of it.” He met eyes with one guard who got the silent order loud and clear, the other following suit. They rushed Bastien and captured his arms behind his back, securely holding him in place.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Bastien hollered as he attempted to evade their grip.

“You’re being taken into custody.”

“Whatever for?!” Bastien demanded.

Drake stood in Bastien’s line of sight, mirroring Liam’s irate features. He held his gaze for a long, heated moment before snapping, “You’d better hope and pray we’re wrong, Bastien.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Drake?!” Bastien yelled, squirming against the grasp of those holding him.

Neither answered the question but merely glared at him; the sheer betrayal and outrage they felt radiated off of them, eliciting a shiver to run down Bastien’s spine. He calmly reasoned, “Sir, I don’t know what this is about, but we can have a rational conversation without all of this nonsense.” He motioned to the guards holding him.

“No, I don’t think we can, because you see —” Liam stalked toward Bastien, staring into his eyes so intently that he could almost see the wall behind him. As he made it into his comfort zone, Liam lowered his voice and rasped, “They’re only here to get rid of your body if I have to.” He smirked at Bastien’s wide eyes, as well as his complexion paling instantaneously.

Liam held Bastien’s gaze but addressed the guards. “Take him down to the cells. I’ll be right behind you.”

As they dragged Bastien away, he hollered and stirred up a fuss. Liam ignored his pleas, instead trying to prepare himself for what lay ahead. He wanted clarity, but a part of him dreaded Bastien’s confession; it would be another stark reminder of what his negligence caused. The guilt tearing away at his insides was at an unfathomable level, but he had to push that aside to focus on the task at hand.

He tried to keep his composure, but the gloves were off; there was no more control. Bastien knew something and regardless of what he had to do, Liam was hell bent on making him talk. Innocent lives taken and families destroyed, along with Riley’s heinous attack — all of which rested heavily on his conscience. He was determined to serve a steaming hot platter of justice to all he deemed deserving, regardless of what it took.

The next step in making that happen was getting a pig to squeal.

As he stood next to Drake, the facade of a composed monarch slipped onto the floor. He didn’t have enough strength left to keep it together. He embraced his emotions and vowed to follow their direction, but the only thing remaining was pure, unfiltered rage.

Gone was the timid, people-pleasing prince with his mother’s baby-blue eyes. Instead, a carnal lion with dark, dilated pupils awakened, centered on the dangling piece of meat in his face — Bastien.

#the royal romance #choices the royal romance #king liam #trr au #liam rys #trr #choices trr #choices #ghosted #cfwc fics of the week #choices fanfiction #choices fanfic #choices fic writers creations #prince liam #drake walker #olivia nevrakis #leo rys #mature

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karahalloway · 2 months

Text

Morally Grey - Part III: Russian Roulette

Fandom: TRR x Mission: Impossible II

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

Series: Morally Grey

Synopsis: Things continue to heat up between Harper and Drake...

Word count: 3,500

Rating/Warnings: E (swearing, multiple lemon-scented moments)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: I know I haven't posted anything in over a month (life has been way too busy!) but in the few moments of spare time that I have managed to eek out, my brain decided that this is the series that it wants to focus on, so here is Part 3.

A/N2: Unlike previous parts, are no YouTube clips for this part - the movie skips over whatever happens between the car chase scene and Ethan and Nyah waking up in bed together the following evening, so I took Harper and Drake's lead to fill the time gap.

"I haven't...forgiven you," I gasp against his lips, even as I find myself yielding to the direction of his hands.

"This ain't an apology," he replies, tipping my head to the side so he can coast his tongue down my jaw.

My eyes shudder shut as the scrape of his stubble across the sensitive skin of my throat leaves me breathless.

Damn, he's an arrogant ass...

But I can't deny that I want to fuck him.

Whether it's because of my oh-so-close brush death... or because I'm still pissed at him and I need an outlet for the messy cocktail of emotions burning inside of me... or some kind of twisted combination of the two, the end result is the same. My brain is a mess and my body is on fire.

Which means I need to break this off now, before things become dangerously complicated between us.

"Good," I tell him, pulling abruptly away. "We're on the same page, then."

His eyes widen as I grab onto his shoulders to swing myself off his lap. "The hell—?"

"Nice knowing you, Walker," I throw over my shoulder as I shunt myself across to the other side of the car.

He grabs my wrist. "You said you'd listen."

"No," I correct. "I didn't."

He cusses under his breath as I twist away. "Look, will you just hold on, for one second, and—?"

"And what?" I interject testily, hoisting myself up onto the doorframe. "Give you yet another chance to con me? No thanks."

"You wanna be mad at me?" he grits. "Fine. Be mad. But don't pretend that's a good reason to walk away."

"Funny," I snark, swinging my legs into the Porsche. "It's working surprisingly well for me so far."

"Until you find yourself backed into a corner..."

I freeze mid-motion.

"You're on Interpol's wanted list," he reminds me. "And that kind of heat is hard to shake. Even if you decide to lie low for a while, or full-on retire, you're not getting a free pass. Not without help, anyway."

"Why should I believe you?" I snap through gritted teeth, hating the indecision raging inside of me.

"Honestly? 'Cause you ain't got a choice," he huffs. "And I know you got no reason to trust me right now. Hell, I wouldn't trust me either. But I'm in a bind, and my offer's legit. So, as far as get-out-of-jail-free cards go, you'll be hard-pressed to find a better one."

I glare out into the night. Damn it, why does he have to be so right?

On one hand, logic — and experience — tells me that I should steer clear of gift horses that seem too good to be true, as they invariably have rotten teeth.

And yet, in spite of every rational inclination, I want to trust him... I want to give into him.

As behind the somewhat gruff exterior and annoyingly pushy attitude, there is a certain frankness to him. I mean, he could've bullshitted me over the alarm, or even fed me to the wolves for kicks... but he didn't. Which makes me want to think that he has some measure of integrity.

But I've been wrong about guys before...

"Fine," I declare abrasively, wiping the wetness from my face. "I'll help you. But I want that offer in writing."

"Done," he accedes, the sudden warmth of his breath lapping the shell of my ear.

Whipping around, I find myself nose to nose with him, his hands splayed on the Mercedes' doorframe on either side of me, as if our renewed proximity somehow serves to seal the deal.

But he's wrong if he thinks he's won this round.

"And you owe me a necklace," I add, lifting my chin.

A scoff escapes him, tickling my lips. "Fuck me, you're demanding..."

I shrug up at him. "You wouldn't have chased after me if I wasn't."

He regards me for a long moment, his jaw working.

I force myself to hold his gaze, even as I feel the latent embers left by that kiss start to smoulder again under the weight of the prolonged contact.

He breaks off first. "I'll see what I can do."

A relieved breath rushes out of me.

I have no idea whether he'll come through for me on either front. But a long career in larceny has taught me to aim high, and always have a back-up plan in my pocket.

And of things don't work out...? Well, I guess I'll just have to pawn that expensive watch of his.

"Great...!" I chirp, fully conscious of the bare modicum of space between us. "So, what's the job?"

"No clue," he admits, finally backing off to slip past me into the Porsche.

My jaw drops. "What do you mean you don't know! You came all this way to set me up and you don't even—?"

"Trust me," he grumbles, sliding into the driver's seat. "I'm well aware. But my brief was to locate you first, and then report in to get the rest of the details."

"And you follow your assignments to the letter..." I surmise with a sidelong look as I plop down into the passenger seat next to him.

He scoffs wryly as he flips the engine over. "Very rarely."

Yanking the wheel hard to the right, he rams the gas pedal down to detach his car from mine with an ear-splitting screech of metal, taking the Mercedes' wing mirror off in the process.

Swerving out into the middle of the bridge, he guns the Porsche into the night, leaving the carnage behind us to dust.

"You always drive like a maniac?" I shout over the whip of the wind.

He slants me a deadpan look. "I'm not the one who almost ended up in the river..."

I roll my eyes at him. "Where are we meeting this guy?"

"Stormholt," he replies, punching some coordinates into the Spyder's navigation system. "But it ain't a joint exercise."

"Why?" I counter with an arched brow. "You don't trust me?"

"Not one bit," he grins.

I can't help but laugh. "How do you know I won't skip out on you, then?"

"I don't," he admits, meeting my eye across the width of the car. "But I'm hoping I've given you enough reason to stay."

I glance quickly away before he notices the sudden colour spreading across my cheeks. "But...umm... Why me?"

"You came highly recommended."

"By whom?"

"By my agency."

My brows furrow. "I didn't think the CIA kept tabs on common thieves."

"I don't work for the CIA."

"Then...?"

"I'm an agent with IMF."

I nearly choke. "IMF?"

"Impossible Missions Force," he clarifies.

"You can't be serious..." I blurt.

Luckily, he mistakes my disbelief for confusion as he says, "Hey, I didn't come up with the name. But at least it's accurate."

"If you say so," I mutter, sinking deeper into the seat and wrapping my arms around myself.

This can't be a coincidence... Can it?

"Here," he says, shrugging out of his suit jacket while managing to keep the Porsche tracking steady with just his knees against the steering wheel at over 80 mph.

I shake my head. "I don't—"

He cuts off my protest with an impeccably aimed toss, landing the jacket square in my lap. "It's a long drive. And the adrenaline will be wearing off now."

As if on cue, a shiver runs over my skin. Heaving a begrudging sigh, I set about pulling the jacket on. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," he murmurs, grabbing hold of the wheel again.

I can feel the heat of his mocha gaze on me, but I make a point of not meeting it as I busy myself with turning the lapels up and tugging the front closed around myself to keep the midnight chill at bay.

As regardless of the one too many ways we've found ourselves up close and personal over the past hour, this is now a transactional relationship — pure and simple. So, I'm not going to indulge him with anything beyond that. It's a bad idea to play Russian roulette, and I have no intention of becoming physically (...much less emotionally!) entangled with someone who holds the keys to my proverbial release.

Making myself comfortable — albeit at the expense of now being scent-marked by the lingering spice of his aftershave, which I force myself to ignore — I let my focus drift over the shadowy forms outside the car as they zip past us on our way back down to the capital, wondering if I've just backed myself into the very corner that he warned me about.

But, I must have dozed off at some point, for the next thing I know, I am being shaken gently awake.

"Harper..."

Opening my eyes groggily, I find Dallas — Drake — looking at me with that impenetrable gaze of his.

I sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. "Where are we?"

"At a safe house," he replies, unclipping the seatbelt he had apparently pulled over me at some point while I was passed out. "Not far from the marina."

"What time is it?" I ask, stifling a yawn.

"Still early," he advises, exiting the Porsche, the slam of his door echoing across the exposed concrete of the underground garage he had parked us in.

Arriving at the other side of the car, he pulls the door open for me and holds out his hand.

Ignoring the offer of assistance, I swing my legs out to push myself up to standing on slightly wobbly feet, my body still in the process of shaking off the vestiges of sleep.

"You good?" he asks, peering down at me.

"Yeah," I affirm, slipping his jacket pointedly off and handing it back to him.

He doesn't look like he believes me, but he nods nevertheless. "This way," he prompts, tilting his head towards the back of the space.

Following behind, he leads me through a heavy-looking metal door and into an airy, white-washed hallway with terracotta flooring that opens up into a spacious, open-plan kitchen with vaulted ceilings and arched windows through which the dawn is just starting to peek through.

"Fridge should be fully stocked," he advises, striding past the large centre island. "And there's coffee, if you want it."

I nod silently, casting my eyes around the minimalist, but nevertheless welcoming interior... which definitely tends towards more executive Vrbo than run-of-the-mill safe house.

"Bedroom's this way," he advises, turning down a corridor. "Your clothes should be in there already."

I blink. "My clothes?"

"Figured you'd want to get changed," he shrugs. "So, I called ahead and got the bags from your rental moved up here."

"Of course you did..." I mutter, stepping after him.

This guy is nothing, if not thorough...

Entering the room, I am greeted by a four-poster bed, breezy white drapes that kiss the floor, and a cavernous en-suite... with no door.

Great...

"You hungry?"

His question catches me off guard. Twisting back 'round, I find him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, watching me.

I suddenly feel naked under the weight of his dark gaze. "I..."

"I can cook something up," he clarifies.

My discomposure evaporates in a blaze of disbelief. "You... cook?"

He cracks out a laugh — warm and rich, like a perfectly brewed macchiato. "Call it a hobby."

"Umm... Okay," I accede, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind my ear while I try... and fail once again to figure this guy out. "Surprise me."

"Yes, ma'am," he agrees with a lopsided smirk as he turns away.

I let out an explosive breath as he rounds the corner and disappears back down the corridor.

Who is this guy?

I shake my head. "It doesn't matter..."

I'm not planning to stick around long enough to find out, and I'm not interested in the answer anyway. This is a temporary set-up, and once I help him steal whatever it is that needs stealing, we'll go our separate ways.

Decision reaffirmed, I turn back into the room, where I find my bags stacked neatly against the foot of the bed.

Grabbing the larger of the two suitcases, I quickly extract an oversized t-shirt and a pair of boyshort undies. Since I fully expect to just hang around the safe house today, there's no need for anything fancier, and I'm definitely not going to be giving Drake any mixed signals by dressing up for him.

Locating my bag of toiletries as well, I make my way into the bathroom.

Stepping through the curved archway, I am greeted by an oasis of calm. Cream-coloured tiles lead to a claw-foot tub nestled under a large window, beyond which sits a waterfall cave shower complete with steam and pressure jets.

Four Seasons, eat your heart out.

Dropping my clothes on the floor, I quickly pull my heels off and shimmy out of my dress. Grabbing a fluffy Turkish cotton towel, I make a beeline towards the shower, eager to get under the spray and wash the night away.

Slapping the faucet onto its hottest setting, I step under the flow, and let out a sigh as the steam envelopes me, melting the tension that has built up inside of me over the past 24-hours out of me.

Once I'm sufficiently sous vide'd, I set about washing the hairspray out of my hair, and the make-up off of my face before turning the water off somewhat reluctantly.

The long soak had been a welcome reprieve, but as much as I may want to, I can't hide in here forever. Especially since I am now genuinely hungry.

Peeking out of the shower, I check to see that the coast is clear, before slipping out to quickly envelope myself in the towel.

I'm not shy about my body per se, but given the already delicate tightrope I'm having to navigate with the guy, I don't want to get caught in a — potentially even more! — compromising situation with Drake. Because as hot as he is, and as great as he is with his tongue, I can't afford to tip across that line with him... And him seeing me naked after that heated kiss on the bridge would only be adding fuel to the already dangerous fire simmering between us.

Which is why I make a special point to not doing anything with my hair apart from squeezing any excess water out of it, or even bothering to put on any make-up. As the fewer ideas I can put in his mind, the better — for both of us.

Dropping the towel, I quickly pull the fresh clothes on, before walking back out into the bedroom...

...and straight into a tell-tale smell wafting in from the kitchen.

I scoff. "He didn't..."

But the ambrosia emanating from the other end of the corridor leaves little room for doubt, and I feel my mouth start to water as I'm pulled almost unwittingly towards the source.

Poking my head around the corner, I can't help but gasp as my suspicions are confirmed. "Are you making... pancakes?"

"You told me to surprise you," he throws over his shoulder as he catches the crêpe he's just flipped into the air.

"When I said that, I wasn't expecting... this," I admit, taking in the rest of the spread jostling for space on the centre island with a slack-jawed expression.

While I'd been soaking myself in the shower, Drake had whipped up a pair of ham and cheese omelettes, a steaming pot of coffee, as well as a carafe of what looks like freshly squeezed orange juice. Not to mention the small tower of pancakes that he has just put the finishing touches on.

"Good," he grins, flipping the gas off on the cooktop, and stowing the pan. "Wouldn't want to disappoint on the first day, now, would I?"

"Technically, we're into day t—"

I very narrowly catch my jaw from smacking into the countertop as he turns to face me.

At some point during the prep process, he had thrown the buttons of his shirt open — whether to stop it from getting splattered, or whether to keep himself cool — with the result that the perfect ridges of his abs and the toned mounds of his pecs were now on full, unadulterated display... making my body crave a very different kind of meal.

I jerk my gaze away before he can realise that I'm staring.

Keep it together, Harper! Neither of you needs any encouragement, remember?

"So, umm..." I cough to clear my suddenly patched throat as I reach for the coffee. "Where did you learn to do all this?"

"My dad," he admits, placing the plate of pancakes down on the island. "He was an amazing cook."

"Was?" I ask, my gaze jumping upwards on its own accord to meet his in surprise.

"Was," he confirms, lowering himself onto a bar stool across from me, and tugging his shirt mercifully closed.

"I'm sorry," I say sincerely, passing him the caffeine. Having grown up without a family myself, I know the feeling of that particular pain all too well.

"Don't be," he replies, refilling his mug. "He died doing what he signed up for, which was protecting his country."

I reach for the pancakes. "Is that why you became a spy?"

"No," he scoffs, as if at some private joke, shunting some jam, lemons and sugar my way. "You don't apply to IMF. You get picked. Whether you want to be, or not."

I nearly spread jam all up my arm, instead of over my pancake. "What do you mean?"

"Let's just say that I ended up in a corner. And just like you, I wasn't really in a position to bargain my way out of it."

"Not a great feeling, is it?" I point out dryly, rolling my crêpe up.

"Nope," he affirms, taking a swig of his coffee. "But I got a second lease on life, so I ain't too sour."

I quirk a brow at him. "That's the third time you've done that."

"Done what?"

"Said 'ain't'," I tell him 'round a mouthful of pancake — which, I have to admit, tastes just as good as it smelt, and literally melts in my mouth.

"So?"

"So, which state are you from?" I press. "Kentucky? Georgia? Tennessee?"

"Texas," he replies tersely. "Not that it matters anymore."

"Why not?"

He heaves a low exhale. "I'm a ghost. I don't officially exist. I'm not in any government system and every passport I have is a fake."

I look upon him with new eyes. "You can never go back to your old life, can you?"

"No."

"Neither can I," I admit, stuffing the last of the crêpe into my mouth and reaching for an omelette.

He watches me silently for a long moment. "D'you want to?"

I shake my head. "You?"

"I'm not sure anymore."

My gaze lifts to meet his, and within those deep mocha depths, I am surprised to find specks of sadness, floating like lost leaves down a river.

An unexpected lump forms in my throat. "I'm sorry..."

"You don't need to keep apologising."

"I know, but—"

He lays a hand on my arm. "The choices I made were my own. No one else's."

The heat of his palm burns into my skin, and I suddenly realise I've made a huge mistake by engaging him. As in the course of our seemingly innocent conversation, we ended up straying out of the safety of the professional, and into the minefield of the personal.

Gulping down the final bite, I shoot out of my seat. "Thanks for cooking! This was—"

I barely make it half a step before his hand shoots out to intercept me.

Jerking my head across the counter, I find him staring at me with all the latent intensity of a wolf on the hunt.

"Wh-what?" I challenge, hoping he doesn't notice the slight tremble in my voice.

"You missed a spot."

"Wha—?"

He tugs me forward. "Just here."

I stumble to a stop before him, palm subconsciously flying out to seek purchase against his chest in a bid to steady myself.

He raises his free hand to wipe the lone smear of jam from my cheek.

I stand, rooted to the spot as our gazes meet against my better judgment... and I suddenly find myself falling into his cinnamon-flecked irises.

His thumb brushes against the corner of my lips. "Damn, you're beautiful..."

My mouth parts on its own volition...

...and the next thing I know, my lips are crushed against his.

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Picture credits:

Drake - Kiss - Harper - Cooking

#harper gale #drake walker #the royal romance #mission: cordonia #russian roulette #mashup #morally grey

25 notes · View notes

bebepac · 6 months

Text

Six Sentence Sunday 03.31.24

Is it me you're looking for? Yes, I know I've been M.I.A. for a bit, but you guys I'm really trying to upper level adult here. I have decided I'm going to buy a house. So I have hired a realtor and have started the process. When my lease is up again, I WILL be moving into my home.

Let's see if I remember how to set one of these up!

Original post 03/31/24 at 8:02PM EST

Chapter 9: Riley Brooks's Day Off

The Series: Life of Riley Book 2

The Book: TRR

Pairings: Liam x Riley (Liam x F!MC)

Status: Still in the writing process

Since the challenges Constantine had been coming up with weekly for the suitors were getting a lot of publicity for the crown, the suitors met weekly for a meeting with a PR specialist to make sure they had the crown’s best interests in everything they did. They also passed out weekly itineraries of what the Suitors would be doing. Did it ever reveal any events they would be participating in? No, but that their sponsor would be revealing the new task and prize for that week."

Riley thumbed through the itinerary, once than again looking confused.

“Is something wrong Lady Riley?”

“Jenna, my booklet seems to be missing a page. I have nothing for Friday’s itinerary .”

“Actually no you’re not. None of you are. Since I've just been brought into this role, I know you ladies are going through a lot being thrust into the public eye in this magnitude. Lady Riley, you for example, you are coming to us from America and have no experience with dealing with the nobility on a daily basis, and are completely learning how to navigate court successfully from scratch. I recognize this to be quite the experience. The potential reward of all of this is indescribable, but you all need breathing moments for mental and physical wellbeing. We are building in “off days” to your schedule to do what you want with it, a recharge day of sorts, or a mental health day if you will.”

“Well if you’re weak you need days off. I will spend my time training.” Olivia chimed in.

“If that is how you want to spend your day Olivia, there are no wrong answers, it’s free to do whatever you want, as long as you enjoy it.”

That evening:

“Of course, you would have an off day when I’m out of the country.” Liam sounded genuinely disappointed.

“I know I thought about that too.”

“Take it as an opportunity Riley, do some exploring, sleep in a little bit, we both know you like your sleep. Relax. You know, life moves really fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

“You’re completely right Liam. Thanks.”

“Sounds like you have a plan.”

“I do.”

When she hung up with him, she called Maxwell.

“What’s up Little Blossom?”

“I need your help.”

WIP 2

Part 3: Spice Spice Baby

Series: Not officially one: Previous Parts include: Cinnamon Spice and Everything Nice

The Book: TRR

Pairings: Liam x Bebe (Liam x F!OC)

Status: Still in the writing process

I have never required that much sleep. There has always been something so peaceful about the world at night for me. I glanced at her once more before getting out of bed. She was soundly sleeping and didn’t even stir from her slumber as I rose. A good mattress will do that, and honestly I think she needed the rest. I slipped on my pajama pants and walked to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water.

Night time was when I did my best thinking, and the thought crossed my mind that the two of us would be able to pull off this ruse with my coworkers. Bebe really did seem invested to make “us work.” Or maybe she was invested in the paycheck.

“Was my snoring keeping you awake?”

Bebe was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, resting her hip on the frame, her robe loosely tied.

“You don’t snore.”

“And you,” she gently tapped my nose with her pointer finger, “are a liar.”

“I wasn’t lying, I didn’t hear you snoring, or if you were, you weren’t disturbing me.”

“Why are you up, Liam?”

“Why are you up, Bebe?”

She quirked her eyebrow at me, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I rarely sleep through the whole night, I’m always up for a bit.”

“Why?”

Her stare from across the room was almost piercing my soul.

“Therapist was not one of your duties I'm paying you for in our contract.”

She looked surprised, but more importantly, hurt by my remark. In a split second I had turned her into a business arrangement that she was a prostitute, that I was paying for a service.

“Oh, well you’re paying me a handsome sum, therefore I feel like I should be anything you need me to be at the moment. I’ll just….”

I had hurt her feelings, and snapped at her, and I didn’t even know why, and the look in her eyes, I didn’t want to ever see that again.

“Life.” I called out to her before she was out of the room. Bebe immediately stopped and turned to face me.

“I can relate to that. Do you mind if I just sit up with you for a bit then?”

“No, not at all.”

Bebe settled into the couch next to me. She didn’t say a word, but I found her silence and non-judgment strangely comforting.

WIP 3

Part 4

Series: The Vampires Live On

The Book: TRR

The Pairing: Liam x Riley (in this decade Gabriel x Alice in the past)

Status: Still in the writing process

“We’re here.”

“I really didn’t think it would be this clean here. I know what you said, but looking at the other graves along the way here, I expected the same condition.”

“You know, I can be very persuasive, and keeping in contact as the groundskeeper’s changed over the years, very important in this. “

“I didn’t think they would be buried side by side.”

“Because that didn’t matter here, and since he died, protecting the two of you, his family wanted nothing to do with him.”

“Poor Max. He was such a good sweet guy. What we were, or not completely, never mattered to him.”

I placed the small flower arrangement into the vase at his grave.

“I have missed you dear friend,”

“I’m going to give you some time alone with your sister and friend.”

“You can stay.”

“No, I’ve been with you for an eternity, you have not had any time with her or him since that night. I want you to have some time alone with them. You deserve that.”

“Thank you, Liam.”

Even though the space around her grave was clean, I found myself picking up and pushing the few leaves and debris away to make her area more pristine.

I sat down in the grass in front of her grave and closed my eyes, letting the emotions of finally being here with her again wash over me.

“Hi Clara. I have missed you so much.”

WIP 4

Chapter 17: Finale Part 4: The Wedding

Series: The Rotten Apple 🍎

The Book: TRH & Beyond

Pairings: Eleanor x Nico (Elle x M!OC) / Liam x Riley

Status: Still in the writing process

Final exams for Liberty had ensured that she wouldn’t be able to come to Greece early to take part in some of the pre-wedding festivities that Elle had planned. Elle felt guilty that Liberty would be missing her graduation from the Crown Academy to come to her wedding; her father had wanted to pull some strings for Liberty, but Elle declined, citing the importance of her education, though she did want her there.

Elle smiled as she panned the camera around the back yard.

"I really wish I was there Ellie."

"I really wish I was there. Libby! Look at you in your cap and gown. Father and I stepped away for a bit to watch the live feed of the baccalaureate."

"Thanks Ellie."

"For what?"

"Just making an effort. I can't wait to see you and everyone."

“Does that include Michail? He looked so sad when I told him you would not be here tonight.”

A slow smile crept over Liberty’s face.

“He looks sad?”

Elle laughed, “You’re clearly not about that.”

“Did he dance with any other girls?”

“Just one.”

“Who?”

Elle’s smile widened.

“Only me, when he could pull me away from Nico, all he talked about was you. He really likes you Libby.”

“You think so?”

“I know so, and he can’t wait to see you tomorrow and neither can I.”

“Neither can I!”

#bebepac writes #choices fanfiction #trr fanfic #trr fandom #liam x riley #the rotten apple #the life of riley #choices fic writers creations #six sentence sunday #elle x nico #the vampires live on #Riley goes to cordonia

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choicesficwriterscreations · 11 months

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November Creator of the Month: Lizzybeth1986

Each month CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers, and this month’s writer of the month is @lizzybeth1986 We hope you will enjoy learning more about them and their work below! The writer is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page.

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog: Blog Masterlist

How do you want to be known on Tumblr?

Lizzy, absolutely 😁

*Center art by @sazanes

More below...

When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played?

I started playing mid 2017, I think. I played the flagship books (TF, TCaTF, MW), and def preferred TF at the time.

When and why did you join Choices fandom?

I joined the Tumblr fandom in 2017, around the time of the TRR finale. Mostly because the Liam hate at the time was intense and I wanted to write metas about why Liam was, in fact, not “a dick who betrayed the MC” 😂

I did have a Tumblr account before that (made it in 2015 to follow Bollywood film posts), but never actually used it.

How did you pick your blog name?

I was lazy af so it was my middle name plus my birth year haha

Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!

I started out with a couple reblogs, but my first actual post was about the romance points mechanism in TRR1. There was a point in the middle of the book where one nice word to Drake would give you an automatic romance point, and I was like, “Huh??? Either treat him like shit or risk him catching feels for me? Is that how it is???”. Thankfully, that stopped after two chapters. After that, I did an essay series analyzing Liam’s actions in the finale called “The Crown, The King and The Flame.” Romance Points Post The Crown and the Flame

How long have you been writing fanfiction?

Almost 6 years now! I started doing Liam fics around the beginning of TRR2.

What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to write about?

I’m the most invested in TRR and PM, but between the two I’d probably say PM is my fave book overall. But yeah, my favourite book to write about would be TRR, because Liam, Hana and Kiara are such fantastic characters to write about! (Hayden and Sloane, too, but I’m still in the process of getting comfortable writing them).

Share the first fanfic you wrote with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were writing it today?

It was Keychains, my two part fic series featuring my MC and Liam. It was set around the time the MC was waiting in the airport in TRR2, just before Maxwell and Bertrand intervene. It had a follow up with Liam’s PoV too.

I really like it. It included some really good hc’s I made at the time, like Esther buying an apple keychain to represent Cordonia at the same time, and Liam calling her his wife in Greek and Esther not realizing what the phrase meant. I thought the pathos and slight humour was quite well-done. I can’t think of much I would want to change in the story.

Keychains 1 Keychains 2

What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

As a series – Eleanor’s Kitchen! It’s ongoing, and it’s a joy to write. I love exploring food from a cultural lens, and since Cordonia was a fictional country, I could explore a variety of ethnicities and food cultures. Liam had a literal diamond scene that explored gastrodiplomacy, and I wanted to explore his childhood and Eleanor’s friendships too.

Individually – I would say my Kiara fic “An Ear to the Ground”. Kiara is a delightful character and exploring the social season through her eyes was a real journey! I also love “The Stars (Are Out Tonight)” which explores the early days of the Sloane & Hayden friendship. I used asterisms and constellations to symbolize moments in their friendship.

Eleanor's Kitchen An Ear to the Ground The Stars (Are Out Tonight)

Do you have a fic that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to be but found could use a little more love?

Cordonian Waltz was definitely a surprise in terms of reception!! It was written in the style of headcanons I was seeing at the time, and I wrote it in second person. It became my most widely-read fanfic very fast, and every once in a while it would experience a major surge in readership. I enjoyed writing it and thought it was a lovely, romantic piece, but I really wasn’t expecting it to finally have 250+ reblogs out of it, and people coming and telling me this was the fic that got them into Liam x MC in the first place. I find that deeply gratifying 😍

There’s a lot of fics that I feel need more engagement and appreciation, but I can understand that those characters also don’t exactly get much of an audience. My entire PM set comes under this category; they typically get low readership. I think my Hana and Kiara fics too could do with more of an audience.

@twinkleallnight once told me that when she reads my stuff, she usually takes a long time just to ruminate on the story, and I like to believe that often, that’s why the engagement isn’t always immediate. Which I like too!! I like that some of my stuff can make people stop and think, and I like to believe that over time, the work will have its own impact.

Cordonian Waltz PM Set

If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

Probably fluff but with a lot of observation and sometimes somber reflections. I’m not that great with angst…and I’ve never actually tried smut? But maybe one day 😄

Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

Yes! Some of my MCs are v different from me but I always incorporate something from my life experiences in them. Like Esther taking photos of the sunset or Basil not being science oriented but still having an interest in space.

Character wise I find I put a lot of myself into a lot of the characters I write. Notably, Liam, Hana, Kiara, certain Haydens and Sloane. Liam’s love for learning, different aspects of Hana and Kiara’s experiences as queer women, Sloane’s experiences as a neurodivergent woman, and especially my Scholar!Hayden’s (Iris) observations. I tend to incorporate a lot of my feelings and experiences more into certain canonical characters than in MCs.

What element of writing do you struggle with most?

Dialogue, I think. Especially when it’s a character I don’t relate to that much. But also sometimes when it’s a character I love but am only starting to write because then I really overthink it!

Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

Hmm…probably neglected wouldn’t be the word I’d use…I just take a very long time to kickstart them 😂

But yeah, definitely my Petals and Thornes series? That’s the fic series I’m doing for Hana x Kiara, that is supposed to explore TRR2 and 3 from their PoV (with significant changes). So far I’ve only been able to do some one-shots and hcs in that universe, but I do want to start the actual series soon!

I have some essay series’ I’d love to work on too! My Hana essay series which has two essays left, The Hayden Young Project, and a possible series on the alternative Lis of TRR!

Petals and Thornes Hana Lee: A Study in Erasure

If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to read your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you recommend they read first?

Hmm. A few people have asked me, actually, and while I’m not fully opposed to showing them I’ll probably take some time before I do show my work. I’ll probably overthink how much will be understandable to a reader who doesn’t have the context of the source, and what they may not understand.

What to show them first? I’m not sure! Maybe the smaller ones first, like Cordonian Waltz. Or my RCD fic Snowstorms, because it doesn’t have more than 2-3 canon characters featuring and I do talk a little about being a closeted queer teen figuring out their sexuality through cinema, which is an overall relatable experience to some! Snowstorms

Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing?

In my early years I used to emulate Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni’s style. Much of her work that I read as a teen was pretty flowery, sometimes bordering on purple prose, and I really loved that style and tried to go that way. But now I think a variety of writers from different genres inform my writing. In terms of published authors, Jhumpa Lahiri, Helen Hoang, and non-fiction ones like Rukmini Pande, Ruby Hammad and Mikki Kendall.

In Choices fic, @callmetippytumbles for sure – a lot of the questions she was tackling with her MC in her Home series served as inspiration for some of the ideas I’ve been having in mind for Petals and Thornes. @thefirstcourtesan is a great writing buddy to have, too, and she has a knack for saying a lot in very few words! There’s also my amazing group of friends (shoutout to @cassiopeiacorvus, @thecapturedafrique, @mand-delemonde, and @beyonceswigs, as well as @twinkleallnight , @dcbbw @mariemarieohcontrary , @choicesfrog, @grapecaseschoices and @ohsnapitzlovehacker…the discussions are so good and leave some much to think about afterward 💖💖). All these discussions ALWAYS fuel my ideas and make me think out of the box.

I’ve also recently started writing polyamorous characters and relationships, and @angelasscribbles stories and resources have been such a great help in navigating that!

Home

@angelasscribbles Poly Resources

Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series?

Haha! I’ve not even started the proper series yet but I think Petals and Thornes? But besides that maybe Eleanor’s Kitchen may work as a series idk 😄

Do you write original fiction?

I do try! I’ve done a few short stories but before I started fanfic, I did a lot of spoken word poetry and that was fun.

What other hobbies do you have?

Reading, watching video essays, spending months on hyperfixations 😂 and a little cooking. My kid’s gotten into craft recently and has succeeded in taking me down that rabbit hole too haha.

I used to be into making fruit wines but have gotten inconsistent with that over the years.

What’s your favorite emoji?

Because I have a huuuge thing for nerds – this one: 🤓

BONUS – tell us anything you’d like (if you want to).

A story my mum often tells about how I got into writing, began with some good old-fashioned sibling rivalry. Apparently as a child I was notorious for writing things on the walls of our house. One day my older brother got a hardbound royal-blue covered notebook to write in, with gold lettering on the cover…and I got instantly jealous that I didn’t get one (I was 6 or 7 and already fond of telling stories). When I complained my mum made me a deal – she would get me the same notebook…IF I stopped writing on the walls and began writing in that instead 😂 It worked. My mother is a smart woman.

I love spoilers!! I will read the end of a novel I’m reading and then go back and read the rest. Sometimes I even read books all the way backwards lol.

I love romance, and my favorite tropes include second-chance romance and mutual pining while believing the other person will never love you back! Because, at heart, I’m a dramatic bitch.

#choices fic writers creations #cfwc creator of the month #the royal romance #perfect match #lizzybeth1986 #playchoices #playchoices fanfic

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fadingreveries · 7 months

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The Royal Romance, Bk1 Ch1: Once Upon a Time (Pt. 2)

Click here for the TRR retelling series masterlist for more chapters! 🏰

Story Summary: In this novel-style retelling of TRR, beloved scenes with original commentary from the Choices stories including your favourite group of royals and friends will be expanded upon. Contains extended commentary and scenes from the original story, in-depth descriptions of bonus scenes, and premium choices and outfits.

Chapter Synopsis: Love awaits in the royal court of Cordonia as Riley competes for the Crown Prince! Will she accept his proposal, or will someone else win her heart?

Word Count: 2k

Disclaimer: All rights to original commentary, scenes, and characters from The Royal Romance series reserved to Choices and Pixelberry Studios. No copyright infringement intended.

~ ~ ~

A short time later, they all found themselves outside the restaurant address Maxwell provided. He promised Liam and Drake nothing but the best for his two best friends, so they had no choice but to trust in his plan and follow him to where the night would supposedly begin.

However, it was an odd location to have a restaurant, considering it was squished in between a car dealership and a gas station. They thought it would have at least been surrounded by other well-known, swanky restaurants.

“I know this looks like a closed auto shop, but I’m sure it’s part of the theme,” Maxwell added, as they gazed up at the building wondering why it wasn’t busy at this time of the night.

Liam had never seen a restaurant with decor for that specific theme. New York was filled with surprises. “How intriguing.”

Drake banged on the door, but no one answered. The building’s windows provided a chance for them to peek inside and see the cars, tools, and tires inside. Something wasn’t right about this so-called “restaurant” Maxwell had bragged about on their way over. Where were the people? Where was the food?

“These rust stains are so authentic,” Liam remarked, brushing his hand over one of them. The attention to detail was very admirable for the authentic auto shop environment.

Maxwell glanced down at his phone with confusion, tilting his head to the side. “I don’t get it. I searched for ‘Michelin,’ and this came up…”

Of course. Now it made sense. Drake looked at Maxwell, slowly saying, “You do know Michelin also makes tires.”

“Why would the same company that controls the most prestigious food ratings also make tires, Drake? That doesn’t even make sense,” Maxwell answered, a bewildered look on his face as he scratched his head.

Drake sighed. What did a man have to do to get some whiskey at that moment? “I’m too hungry to explain this to you, and I don’t want to eat a tire for dinner.”

Looking around in their surroundings, Drake spotted a hole-in-the-wall bar on the other end of the street. There were a few patrons heading in and out but compared to the restaurants further down the road, it didn’t seem as crowded or stuffy as he would have thought for a Friday night. Plus, it was the closest one they could find, anyway.

“That place is open and empty. Let’s go,” Drake suggested, gesturing to Liam and Maxwell to follow him down the street.

__________

In the host area of the bar and restaurant, the men all met up with Tariq. The restaurant had a rustic feel to it with exposed brick and pine panels around them on the walls. There were numerous booths with shiny red leather seats and oak tables.

Several French wine barrels served as decor on the walls. There was a particularly large sign listing the establishment’s special of the month was plastered near the main bar area where the beer taps and shelves of alcohol were set out on display.

“You know, I’m not sure this is the best restaurant in New York,” Maxwell remarked. The place wasn’t bad or anything, but he expected a place with more ear-splitting tunes and drunk partying for a bachelor party. How else were they supposed to let loose?

Taking note of the relatively smaller number of people in that building compared to others nearby, Drake simply said, “I didn’t say it was the best. I said it was open and empty.”

Liam, on the other hand, was fascinated by his surroundings and smiled to himself. While the bar had its charms that not everyone would have valued, he thought it was rather refreshing. Very different from the polished palaces and mansions he had grown used to, almost like it was a brand new place to discover. “I find it charming… Shall we—”

But whatever he was about to say was cut off by his phone ringing. Fishing his phone out of his pocket, Liam peered down at his phone’s screen. At the sight of his father’s name on the caller ID, he knew it might have been an urgent matter. It didn’t feel right for him to ignore his father for his own night out. What if something had happened back home? What if he was needed?

“Go on ahead, I’ll be there in a minute,” Liam insisted to his friends, walking away briskly to take the phone call.

Meanwhile, Riley glanced at the door as a group strolled in. Tariq was dressed in a luxurious dark grey suit and tie with a lavender dress shirt that most likely cost more than Riley’s monthly earnings. Maxwell was the definition of a smooth, polished man dressed in his long-sleeved black shirt, dark brown khakis, and brown derby shoes. On the other hand, Drake gave the impression of being both down-to-earth and dignified with his light denim shirt done halfway up, a white shirt, black pants, and mahogany dress boots.

“Waitress, there you are. We need your best table!” Tariq called out, spotting Riley with an excited grin.

Drake chuckled, running a hand through his chestnut-coloured hair. It was easy now to get excited about the bachelor party when there was a very humble place serving his favourite drink of all time on their menu. “Forget the table. Just bring us whiskey, and lots of it.”

Riley headed to the main counter of the bar where she swiped a few menus from the shelves underneath. When she popped her head back up, she was met face-to-face with a stricken-looking Daniel who briskly typed away on his phone.

“Riley, please take this one. I’ve got a date tonight, and I’ll never make it out of here in time.” Daniel pleaded, glancing down at his watch as if he was tracking down the seconds to his date.

“You really want me to take the bachelor party?” Riley asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise. Then she snuck a peek back at the group of men animatedly talking to one another as if the night had only just begun for them. She grinned. “I’m on it. The tip will be insane! I’ll have those guys eating out of my hand in no time.”

Daniel let out an enthusiastic whoop, before placing his hands on Riley’s shoulders with a sigh of relief. “You’re the best!”

“Are you still talking? I’ve seated them already. Now get over there before I dock your pay!” The manager threatened, his mouth turning down in another stern frown.

Once past the front doors, Liam was outside by himself. The streets were fairly busy on the side of the road they were on with groups heading to different bars and restaurants. Many of them appeared to be intoxicated and caused ruckus by hollering out lyrics to songs he had never heard of. It made him smile, however, seeing how carefree they were and how they didn’t have to overthink their responsibilities to simply have fun for one night.

Liam answered the call on his phone, pressing his phone up to his ear. “Hello?”

“Son, I’m so happy to reach you. The news coming off your American tour has been quite positive,” Liam’s father, King Constantine, greeted him. “Though, I’m surprised you’re not back at the palace. Your team said your flight was leaving this morning.”

One month earlier, Liam had been sent to America to embark on a tour on behalf of Cordonia. Now that he was the new Crown Prince, his father insisted that he have a hand in international affairs by meeting with various American ambassadors and leaders to forge more alliances between America and Cordonia.

For weeks, he had sat through endless conferences, meetings, galas, and dinners all in the interest of improving Cordonia’s relations with other American dignitaries. The one positive shining light in it was he had Drake and Maxwell by his side the entire time, but he had never been able to put his responsibilities in the back of his mind until this night.

Liam pursed his lips together, attempting to word his answers properly. “I know I was supposed to be back earlier, but…we took a detour to New York.”

“A detour?” Constantine asked in surprise. Liam heard the sound of a chair’s legs screeching against the floor, a sign his father had stood up from his spot in shock.

“Nothing to be concerned about,” Liam quickly brushed off, keeping his voice as neutral as possible.

He had gotten very good over the years learning how to mask his emotions to maintain stoicism, a skill he used frequently in times of distress and danger. His father’s worrying was harmless but if he heard of any potential danger, Liam knew he would be ordered immediately to return to Cordonia.

Constantine, however, remained unconvinced at Liam’s response as he solemnly commented, “You’re the Crown Prince of Cordonia. Anything unexpected is a concern.”

“Not in this case. Trust me, I can handle myself,” Liam reassured his father. He knew his father was merely looking out for him, and he loved him very dearly. The last thing he would want was to worry him from halfway across the world.

“Of course you can. But be cautious,” Constantine advised his son. There was a brief pause on the phone, then he spoke again, “I’m proud of you. I just want you to know that.”

“Thank you, Father,” Liam beamed, a grin on his face although his father couldn’t see. He wanted nothing more than to be a son worthy of his father’s praise.

Constantine continued, “I know you won’t do anything to disappoint me or the Crown.”

Liam stiffened, almost as if the guilt ate at him for disobeying orders and going out on a whim with agreeing to this bachelor party the guys had planned. He politely answered, “Of course not, Father.”

“That’s always been your brother’s specialty, as you know,” Constantine remarked.

At the mention of his older brother, Leo, Liam was no longer in the mood to make conversation. Constantine rarely praised Leo anymore as much as he did before he abdicated, which made Liam feel conflicted. Leo was his roguish older brother who had his back at every moment when they grew up in the palace together.

He admired Leo and Constantine more than anyone could ever know. He knew the three of them had always been so close before and to see the bond weaken between Leo and his father knowing he couldn’t do anything to mend it was hard on him.

Liam thought to himself once more, before saying, “Mm. Well, I must get back. Take care.”

With that, Liam hung up the phone. For a moment, he stood underneath the pale light from the streetlamps and imagined himself as one of the young college students he saw passing by had he been in an alternate universe where he wasn’t born as a prince of Cordonia.

He pictured himself walking freely around campus to go to classes with Drake and Maxwell, not having a bodyguard on standby 24/7. Liam imagined going out to clubs with the two of them without asking for permission and being able to enjoy himself without worrying about how it affected his representation of his country. It would be much easier for him to meet more people of his age over an unsupervised drink or two compared to how many other noble ladies he’d met before at previous formal dinners.

A dull ache filled Liam’s chest, the way it always presented itself whenever he dreamed of a distant universe where his life was not his own. In previous therapy sessions, he had learned that dwelling in the possible outcomes in the past had no place in his busy life as a Cordonian royal as it only brought him stress and disappointment. With a shake of his head, he sighed and headed back inside.

~ ~ ~

Click here for the TRR retelling series masterlist for more chapters! 🏰

Tag list: Turn off "exclude from Tumblr search" for your account in settings and comment if you’d like to be tagged! @kingliam2019 @princess-geek @karahalloway @twinkleallnight

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burnin0akleaves · 11 months

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Day 7 of drawing the hottest ranger every day:

Since this is the last day of my little TRR Will appreciation week, I wanted to draw something special and let you all in on an opinion of mine.

I think Will had a beard during his marriage with Alyss.

Now I'm not going to go too into detail about Will's character, how some people seem to infantilize him or how his 30s largely get forgotten by the fandom because I actually want to dedicate a huge masterpost on all of these later. Not anytime soon, because I don't have that much free time, but ideally it would be me going over and analyzing Will's character progression throughout the entire series and presenting some arguments against common (what I believe to be) misconceptions on how he is portrayed in TRR.

For now though, I'll just talk about the beard directly.

After the prologue where we see Will on his revenge mission, the first time we are actually introduced to him is in his cabin when Halt and Gilan are there to talk to him about Maddie. This is the first time we actually learn about how Will looks in detail.

Now that he mentioned the fact, Halt noticed that his clothes were crumpled and stained and his hair and beard were long and uncut,

Will's depression leaves him "messy", both his house and his physical appearance not cared for. He doesn't care about daily tasks anymore, he just wants to see the killers of his wife behind bars. It's probably the only thing getting him to get out of bed everyday because have no doubt that this is a coping mechanism. After seeing him probably for the first time in months, Halt realizes that his hair and beard are both long and uncut.

Notice how this doesn't say anything about Will growing his beard out recently? Hell, I'd say its proof that Will's beard isn't new. Halt isn't suprised that Will has a beard, he is suprised at the lack of care he shows for himself. Will's hair is long and uncut too, did he grow out depression hair from scratch??

I think what most people forget when they read TRR is that at minimum 15 years have passed since Will and Alyss' wedding. Both of them had around 13 years to grow and mature and we as an audience don't see them during their 30s at all.

I think most of the traits people attribute to TRR Will believing they are a result of his loss of Alyss, are just signs of him maturing. People are NOT the same in their 20s and 40s, and they shouldn't be. Everyone reading this post has the right to shoot me point blank in 20 years if I'm the exact same person I am now.

Will, after his initial and very understandable period of depression, earns a lot of the traits he used to be associated with during his younger years back. He starts laughing again, he starts to make bad jokes, he allows the people he loves back into his life and learns to move on. He also still has a beard.

The point I'm trying to make here is that even if Alyss hadn't died, Will would still be closer to what we have in TRR now compared to the main series. Because he shouldn't be the same Will. He is a grown ass man in his 40s, while some traits like his high energy and joking personality will stay with him for the rest of his life they will be filtered down. They should be. That's what maturing does to a person and 30s are the prime age for this.

Going back to the beard, Will has no reason not to have one. It suits his personality, Will doesn't care too highly for his looks and likely wouldn't bother to shave daily. All the men around him had beards as he grew up, including his father figure, and he has no reason to not follow the same pattern. Beards are also very common for the time period we're speaking about.

Is the beard used by Flanagan as a simple plot point to show him aging? Absolutely. But it's really not tied to his depression as heavily as people think. The reason he becomes dark and grim for 2 years before learning to enjoy life again is the same reason his beard is unruly and not taken care of before becoming better shaven. Will, even if at the lowest point of his life, is still Will. He has a beard because he wants one, not because he is depressed. And I believe it makes the most sense for him to start growing his beard out during his marriage mainly because of the fact that there is no reason for him not to.

Howls you just talked to me about why Will has a beard while married to Alyss for 4 hours, why does he have just stubble in the drawing then? Easy, artistic choices. It's easier to separate Will in his 30s than Will in his 40s by giving him different facial hair. That's it. It's a bit of a cheap narrative device but it's also realistic and fitting for his character.

Will had a beard during his late 30s with Alyss and that's it, that's the post.

#will treaty #alyss mainwaring #willyss #rangers apprentice #the royal ranger #🍃 fanart #dilf will week

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lizzybeth1986 · 1 year

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Skills vs Passions - What's the Difference?

(Read the rest of the "Hana Lee: A Study in Erasure" series here!)

Previous: China, Cordonia and "Home"

I had mentioned, way back in my first essay of this series, that descriptors used for Hana are vastly different from that of the other LIs. The three male LIs got descriptors that emphasized their personalities and loyalty to their loved ones.

Hana's descriptors, on the other hand, came down to two things - what the MC could be physically drawn to, and what the MC could use her for.

Hana can be dedicated, devoted, open minded, explorative. You don't have to look too far to see a consistent display of these qualities in Hana, throughout both series. Yet none of these words - nor the many others that could even slightly capture her personality - are used to describe her.

What the team views as appealing in Hana, boils down to two things. What the MC can find fuckable if Hana is a love interest, and what the MC can use her for if she isn't (though to be honest, even the MC that romances her still benefits disproportionately from her labour).

Her looks...and her skills.

Ironically, even with this lack of care and forethought, Hana's story still manages to retain some nuance when it comes to exploring the things she learned. They are not things she randomly became perfect at. Nor is the process of how she became good at those things, identical.

Most times, there is a story behind how she became that good at those activities, a process that Hana often worked and struggled towards, before she could be the "Jill of All Trades" of TRR.

Her journey to acquiring all of these skills is not the same. If we do not acknowledge the differences in those journeys, we are doing her story a grave disservice.

Acquired Skills.

(Note: In this section I will be leaving out Hana's more intuitive skills, such as stealth, cunning, deep research and resourcefulness, and focusing more on the ones she had to learn. This is because her intuitive skills fit better in a different essay that I will be working on soon)

There are several things the above screenshots share in common.

One is that they are all things Hana learned as a part of her training to become the perfect debutante, the perfect noblewoman, the perfect courtly wife, the perfect hostess. In the Cordonian Waltz scene in TRR1 Ch 7, Hana speaks of being pushed from an early age to learn all the courtly and social arts. She speaks of being "groomed [every day] to bring fame and fortune to my family", primarily because they were devastated she was not a boy and the only way she could possibly be of use to them was by acquiring these skills. These weren't just hobbies she was encouraged to cultivate - they were things she had to do well, do perfectly, whether she liked doing them or not.

Another - and perhaps easier to miss - similarity between all these pictures is Hana's expression in them. Neutral. Unmoved. Bored. None of these activities actually appeal to her, or are things she is happy doing.

We will find out later on, that that was exactly the point. In her parents' plan for Hana's life and future, Hana's own needs and identity are practically a non-factor.

One of Hana's major epiphanies about her childhood, is the recognition that what she wanted, should have mattered. That her needs deserved to be met just for being her needs, not because it served a purpose for anyone else. On more than one occasion Hana tells us that "enjoying myself never factored into my parents' expectations of me".

How damaging can this obsession with making your daughter the perfect noble wife - to the exclusion of any other possible life - be? Let's find out:

Hana isn't just expected to excel in skills that mean very little to her. She isn't just forced to prioritise - again and again and again - the enjoyment of others over her own. She isn't just made to consider the needs of some nebulous future husband, to the point where she cannot even ask herself what she wants.

Over and above all this, she is never allowed to be her authentic self. She is never even allowed to figure out what that authentic self would be. From an early age she is deprived of toys and pets and real consistent friendships, ensuring a complete isolation, ensuring she doesn't even have the opportunity to safely indulge in pretend play. (That she manages to scrape together whatever she can find to make her "toys" is only a testament to her own tenacity; she should never have been put in such a position in the first place). Her parents robbed her of those early, exploratory years.

She has been told how she must be and what she must do; she never has the freedom to decide whether that is something she is even comfortable being. In the context of this scene Hana may be using this skill to help another woman, but the fact remains that even in expressing her femininity, Hana is constantly expected to perform - as if her authentic self was never good enough.

It is no wonder then that the moment she finds herself no longer answerable to her parents, Hana fears that she will discover she's nothing more than a "collection of skills...with no one underneath". TRR3 shows Hana in a full-blown identity crisis once she is completely outside her parents' influence.

In her post "How Parents Fuel Identity Crises in Their Children" on the Good Therapy Blog, psychotherapist Beverly Amsel talks about the effects controlling parenting can have on a child's sense of self thus; "When a loving parent is so certain that he or she knows what is right for the child and does not consider that the child may have valid, different ideas about what he or she wants, needs, and feels, there is no space and no invitation for the child to develop the ability to express his or her own self with separate ideas, feelings, and needs. Over time, as the child grows to adulthood and is exposed to more ways of thinking about things, there is typically a good deal of confusion about identity, thoughts, and feelings. Unless there is an opportunity to develop a separate sense of self, there will likely be a lot of anxious thinking about what is real but little ability to think for oneself in a self-reflective way."

Fortunately for Hana, her time in Cordonia does seem to present those sort of opportunities. There are story threads in TRR3 that address this identity crisis. But does it culminate into something that benefits her, or only the people around her?

Things She Does For Those She Loves

Before we move into passions, it's important to acknowledge a category that toes the line between acquired skill and interest. These involve activities that she's not entirely passionate about, but still derives some enjoyment from doing.

Her enjoyment of these skills is usually less about the activity itself, and more dependent on her fondness for sharing or socializing through it. Despite her mostly-isolated childhood, Hana is by nature a very social person. She is enthusiastic (though initially a bit wary and fearful of rejection) about making friends, loves sharing her knowledge and skills, and does not hesitate to reach out even to people who don't treat her well and accommodation them into whatever she's doing (eg. every single time she included Olivia in something in TRR2). So it makes sense that there are certain things she enjoys doing because it involves her helping someone, or allows her to spend time with them, or helps her relive precious memories.

On some level, you see this with some of her skill scenes. Often a scene will end with Hana following up a confession about her lack of interest in a particular activity with a line about how sharing that knowledge makes her happy. But you also see this enjoyment in other contexts.

Another context where she truly enjoys doing things, is when they're of a competitive nature. She thrives on the thrill of outwitting opponents and friendly rivalries. A great example of this is the dance-off she does with Maxwell in TRR1 Ch 18, where she enjoys pitting her skills against Maxwell's so much that they both agree they'd be great as a dancing duo. You also see this whenever she's competing in games with her trusted friends. This is perhaps why you see at least a handful of sequences where she expresses an interest in sports.

But perhaps the activities she enjoys the most - that aren't for herself - are ones that have her share space with someone she loves and trusts. Cooking and baking rank high among these skills. Baking began as a domestic skill that would serve her well in a noble household, but she loves sampling batter/dough and practically glows on seeing the other person's enjoyment of her craft. Her creating her own recipe for hot chocolate is especially interesting because it's a skill that she values highly, and that she only shares with people very close to her.

Hana's interest in fashion design also has interesting origins. She is skilled in embroidery and knows fashion trends well, and has learned from her grandmother to make her own clothes. Of particular note is the black-red-gold qipao/cheongsam that was the last dress she ever made with her grandmother. Her attachment to the dress is so strong that she experiences intense distress when Lorelai threatens to take it from her in Valtoria. She also loves designing dresses for loved ones - for the MC herself, we see her conceptualize and design dresses at least twice (a traditional-inspired outfit in Shanghai which is appropriately titled "Hana's Heart", and a blue and white dress for their engagement photoshoot).

Through these examples we can see instances of Hana finding joy in things she didn't have as much interest in, just through the process of sharing that experience with someone else. It's great, on the one hand, because Hana is no longer alone and she gains a renewed perspective on something that came from a very painful part of her life.

On the other hand, "I find this more fun now that I'm doing it with you" comes with its own downsides. If you use it too often, you're in danger of using it as a copout that centers the person she is teaching rather than her own journey.

And if you're a writer that makes efforts for her story with great reluctance...such an explanation will rapidly change into an excuse to be lazy with that journey.

Passions

Among the many, many, many skills Hana was made to learn in the bid to make her the perfect debutante and the perfect noble wife...just a few rank as ones she does wholeheartedly, joyfully, passionately. But they are perhaps the most important.

After all, these are skills that Hana had honed for herself. They're meant for her consumption and her enjoyment, and she often shares them only with people she trusts.

Not only are these things, interests that she enjoys and lovingly cultivates...but she is also fiercely protective of them. She will not allow anyone - not even her parents - to turn something so personal into a public spectacle that she's uncomfortable with. This is most clearly seen when she tells us about rebelling against her parents for piano performances. At a very young age, Hana recognises the value of her music, and she pushes back against any attempts to cheapen it or turn it into some warped form of social currency. She takes ownership of her gift, and from that moment on anything she does with that talent is done on her own terms.

Like music, reading was a skill cultivated to make her an attractive prospect for noble matches - only for Hana to find pleasure in the act of reading herself. Here again, building a passion for reading allows her to rebel in her own unique way. She smuggles in books that she knows her parents will find either too frivolous or too objectionable - often by hiding the books, or modifying the purpose of the book to them so it would sound appropriate.

We must remember - this is a woman who still feels nervous breaking rules even a year after she has left her parents' home. It would take such a woman considerable amounts of imagination and courage, to be able to do what she did in an environment as restrictive as her's. For Hana to be able to do this, she must have really valued the joy that reading books had given her.

Flowers are an extremely important part of Hana's life. Symbolically, they are part of her mother's House Crest, and personally, she is someone who is naturally drawn to flowers. In TRR2 Ch 4, she confesses to devouring the words of The Language of Flowers, and knows the symbolic meaning of each one by heart. She can even make her own bouquets. During the Costume Gala in TRR3, she dresses up in a heavily floral gown as the Goddess of Spring.

One of the most captivating sequences that captures her love for flowers in the TRR2 Conservatory scene, where she takes the MC to see the spectacle of a night-blooming flower unfurling under the light of the moon. It is especially fascinating that her already latent passion for flowers grew further with the help of another passion - reading.

Another thing you will clearly notice about each of these "passions" is that when she speaks about them, she is expressive. Liam confirms this in his Diplomacy scene in TRR3, where he tells the MC that her passion always shows in her eyes.

The proof for what Liam says here is in every one of these scenes. In the scenes compiled under the "Acquired Skills" category, her expression rarely changes and her tone is indifferent. In contrast, we are exposed to a variety of moods when she talks of these things that she's so passionate about.

She seethes with anger at the memory of her parents forcing her to perform the piano to crowds, whispers conspiratorially about forbidden literature, loses herself in the scent of flowers. These are moments where Hana acknowledges her individual pleasures, and expresses pride over the way she guards them from people who will not respect what those things mean to her.

These are things she knows forwards and backwards, but not because she was forced to cultivate and perfect those talents. They're things she knows because when Hana Lee is truly interested in something, she will plunge herself into it, body and soul. These are things that gave her comfort at a time when she had no one, and they form the happiest memories she has had for her childhood so far.

These are passions that are so intricately a part of her that it is impossible for her to give them up. Not for her family, not for her friends, not for her wife - no one.

Conclusion

The base of Hana's story has always been rich with possibilities. There were various ways the writing team could have written it to benefit her story. At the hands of a skilled writer who loved the character for who she was rather than for what the MC could gain from her, the writing of these talents could have been used to further enrich Hana's journey and give her a chance to find herself. Unfortunately, the writing team at the helm of TRR were neither.

Over and over again, the writers used Hana's plethora of talents to make her useful to people, rather than turn the focus of that arc back on her. The MC learns these skills and goes up the ranks, the MC benefits from Hana's offers of help, the MC is the one who becomes a Duchess and Champion of the Realm. Even on a level of resolving her issues with her parents, the writers have her prove that she can still be useful to them without getting married to a man. In the eyes of her writers, her skills are still meant to make her useful to someone - just that the person at the center changes from her parents to the MC.

Because the MC is positioned as someone who "enlightens" Hana to how harmful her situation was, and because the narrative expects Hana to be forever grateful to her - the MC is allowed to use her and take credit for Hana's hard work (eg. The windmill move during the polo game) and get away with it.

When you put all this evidence together, and then go back to the descriptors I put up at the very beginning of this essay, you will see what the team's intention with her, always had been. To create a woman the MC could be attracted to, a woman whose skills the MC could use to advance her own interests...while still being viewed as her hero and saviour. Despite being one of the few people to get the most detailed account of her upbringing and struggles, the MC still chooses to view her in the most simplistic ways, still praises her for her skills and "perfection" rather than support her in any consistent way (more on this in other essays).

The fandom wasn't much better in this respect either. Lots of TRR fans still see no real distinction between the skills Hana had to struggle to learn, and the interests that made her truly happy. The writing team itself contributes to this inaccurate conflating of her interests and skills by having multiple characters label her 'perfect' over and over.

This results in a situation where those hard-earned skills and those moments of joy are conflated together, and spoken of like they are the same thing. But they are not. To speak of the two as if there were no difference, is to ignore completely the difficult, even disturbing, history behind how she acquired them.

The skills the MC grinningly labels her perfect for, are skills that emerged from a very traumatizing environment. Her joys - that many in this fandom so mockingly placed alongside the things she forced herself to do - were perhaps the only opportunities she had to take back her agency and claim something for her own.

To pretend that the two are one and the same is a gross misrepresentation of what was actually depicted in canon.

Next: "Perfect!Hana": Author Bias and the Importance of Framing (coming soon!)

#hana lee #hana lee: a study in erasure #hanaleeappreciationweek #HLAW #the royal romance #the royal heir #the royal finale #HLAW Day 2 #HLAW Day 2: Skills vs Passions #lizzybeth1986 #content: meta

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alj4890 · 1 year

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One Night in Cordonia

Chapter 4: No Retreat, No Surrender

Series: One Night in Cordonia, a @choicesprompts Round Robin Event.

Fandom: TRR so far, but others could be added in

Pairings: Various

Word count 1,238

Rating: Mature

Warnings: talks about sex, innuendos, language

A/N I've had a blast with this, especially after the panic died down knowing it was my turn 🤣. Thanks for including me 😘

Next author: @karahalloway

The dealer once again crunched his snacks gleefully. “My dude, that is what we call sex pollen!”

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

Olivia coughed as she balled up more of her skirt to cover her nose and mouth. Her eyes narrowed upon the multiple sets of bodies writhing in ecstasy around her. While she side stepped her way around them, she tried to keep her mind clear of the powerful effects of the gas.

Someone in here has to still be in their right frame of mind, she kept repeating silently to herself.

She needed to find them and try and figure a way out without getting caught by the masked men. As she walked through Ramsford, she glanced back at the sight of Madeleine riding Riley's little press secretary. It was odd that after the first masked men came in, he'd followed a little while later wearing one too.

Not paying attention to where she was going, she bumped into a solid form and nearly tumbled to the ground.

"You okay?" Maxwell asked, grasping her around the waist.

"I'm fi--where are your clothes?!"

"It's a party." He quirked an eyebrow at her. "You know I always strip down by the end of the night."

"Right." She rolled her eyes. "But it isn't the end of the night yet."

"Everyone else started doing it." Maxwell shrugged. "I couldn't let them all get the drop on me this year."

"Nevermind." She involuntarily snuggled closer within his arms. "Did you notice the gas that was pumped in earlier?"

"Yeah. I had a fog machine set to go off at midnight. It must have somehow gotten triggered earlier." His dimples deepened with his grin. "I had the most epic strip tease planned where I come into the room at the beat--"

"It isn't fog!" Her cheeks heated with the thought of him stripping and dancing. "Look at everyone! Does this happen when fog rolls in?"

"Not usually." He mumbled, seeing that this had gotten completely out of hand.

"Whatever is in this gas, it is making everyone react like this." She brushed her body against his. "Why aren't you affected?"

"Huh." He scratched the side of his face while looking about. "I have absolutely no idea."

Maxwell grasped her arms to keep her still.

"Um, Liv? You're starting to act like them."

"I know!" She snapped, trying to get a grip on her baser emotions. "It's taking all my willpower to not knock you to the floor right now."

"Really?" His grin grew wider. "Then what would you do?"

"I would rip my dress off and then--NOW IS NOT THE TIME!"

"Seems like the right time to ask that." He teased.

"Dear God. Of all the people still in their right minds, why are you the only one?" Olivia cried out.

"I don't know. Maybe I'm immune."

He grabbed her hand to take her to a place without people copulating to distract them.

"Could you put some clothes on, please!" She pleaded, her eyes darting to his extremely toned backside.

He glanced over his shoulder and noticed where she was staring.

"We'll head to my room."

"Yes, please."

Olivia didn't know if she was begging him to take her there for his clothes or for an actual bed to begin to do all the wicked thoughts she was having.

You're having them about Maxwell Beaumont, she reminded herself. Maxwell, did dance really make his body this desireable, Beaumont.

Maxwell led her up the back stairs. They stepped over the few servants who had gotten hit with the gas, while also ducking under a rather adventurous noble and acrobat.

"You know?" Maxwell shut his bedroom door behind her. "This kinda reminds me of this one party I went to."

"What happened?" Olivia felt unusually hot in a room only lit by one lone lamp.

"I was in California and got invited by this group of hot models to come party it up in Malibu with them. It was some kind of rager."

He slipped on some silk boxers then searched for a pair of pants.

"Anyway," he continued, "this fog machine started up and the whole place just went full on orgy. It was wild!"

He turned around while pulling on a fresh button up shirt. His jaw dropped at the sight of Olivia standing in front of him completely naked.

"Then what happened?" She reached past him for a magazine and began to fan her heated body.

"Umm...well...the group I came in with kinda piled on me and we had our own orgy outside at the pool."

He stumbled back and hit his dresser when Olivia draped her arms around his neck.

"Did you ever discover what it was that triggered it?" She pressed her lips to his throbbing pulse point then trailed them down his body.

"Some kind of sex pollen, I think, is what the host said. Makes all your inhibitions drop but notches your sexual desire to like a thousand."

"That makes sense. Whoever pumped this in here must have used that. But why?"

She slid her hands along his abs, trailing her nails up and down his chest.

"Is that a hippopotamus?" She blinked at the unusual tattoo.

"Yeah."

Somehow that image of the baby animal made her mind clear for a moment.

"Oh god! Why didn't you stop me?!" She snapped, moving quickly away from him.

"You caught me off guard!" He jerked his shirt closed. "Plus we were talking."

"When have I ever caressed and kissed you while talking?!" She demanded, snatching up her clothes.

"In reality, never." He mumbled.

Olivia huffed as she tried to zip her dress.

"Wait a minute. Why did you stress in reality?"

"Umm. Okay." He ran his hands through his hair. "You may or may not be the source of all my fantasies."

"Maxwell!" She could feel the need to get undressed again taking over.

"What? You're gorgeous! We both like playing with sharp objects. You scare me just enough to where I know sex would never be boring. I've pictured us getting--" He confessed.

"STOP!" She slammed her hand over his mouth. "Not another word about what you've imagined."

"Sorry!" His muffled response was said into her hand.

"Damnit!" Olivia moaned over the feeling of his lips and stubble brushing against her palm. "Kiss me. But just once!"

Her hand slid up into his hair right when his mouth slammed down on hers. She was surprised at what a good kisser he was. His tongue tangling with hers made her want more. So. Much. More.

He clutched her close to him as they broke apart for a second. Every part of his body screamed he take advantage of the situation to finally live out his fantasies while she was unable to control herself. Then his conscience reminded him he wasn't that type of guy.

His breath was ragged as he reminded her they needed a plan of action.

"You're right." Her chest heaved with deep breaths.

She couldn't stop staring at his mouth, imagining all the delicious things it could do to her body.

"Liv?" Maxwell hesitantly asked.

"Right. Save everyone." She repeated to herself. "Then make you use that mouth of yours all over my body."

"Whoa." Maxwell breathed. "You want that too?"

"STOP TALKING!" She roared. "Or I will be forced to hurt you!"

"Oh yeah?" He grinned at her.

"Yeah." She gripped his arm. "Out. Now."

"Where are we going?"

"To see if there is anyone left who can help us." She propelled him out into the upstairs hallway.

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masked-alien-lesbian · 5 months

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HLAW Day 2: Flowers

A Bouquet for an Angel

Pairing: Hana Lee x nonbinary OC (Raelyn)

TRR book 2

Hana led the twins into the conservatory and were hit with a wave of perfume from hundreds of flowers.

"Did you know that in Victorian society, people communicated with flowers? Every flower has a meaning, so when a lord gave a lady a bouquet, it was as if he were writing her a poem." Hana says running her hands along a petal of a fern.

"That sounds romantic." Riley says grinning and elbowing Raelyn who elbows her back sharply before Hana turns around.

"It wasn't always about romance. Flowers can symbolize friendship, scorn, rivalry and just about anything. We should make a bouquet for the Italian statesman for tomorrow!" Hana says

"Good idea! What about those?" Riley points towards a stem drooping from the weight of 2 dozen small, blue flowers.

"Bluebells are for humility. It could be used as a subtle insult to the receiver." Hana replies. Raelyn snorts, Riley rolls her eyes.

"Okay smarty pants, you pick one." Riley says to Raelyn.

"White roses should be a good one right?" Raelyn says bending to inhale the fragrance of a delicate white rose.

"White roses are known for their unity and purity." -Hana-

"Unity could work!" Riley says, Raelyn plucks a few white roses.

"Oh these are my favorites! Hydrangeas are for heartfelt gratitude." Hana says pointing to some dusty blue-violet hemisphere of petals.

"Gratitude for the hospitality, and unity for Italy and Cordonia? That sounds pretty good, right?" Riley asks. Hana nods her approval and combines the hydrangeas to the bouquet.

"Almost..." Hana trails off to add some greens to the bouquet before offering it to Riley.

"It's beautiful!" Riley says

"And is sure to impress the statesman. Just be sure to leave them in water overnight." Hana says. Riley takes the flowers and grins at the way Hana's eyes keep wandering to Raelyn.

"Oh." Riley fakes a yawn. "I'm sorry, Hana, but I think I'm going to duck out to take a nap, but Raelyn wouldn't mind staying with you to see that night blooming flower, right, Rae?" Riley says to Raelyn who nearly nods their head off.

"I'd love to!" Raelyn says. When Riley has her back turned towards Hana, she wiggles her eyebrows at her twin, who gives her a warning look. Chuckling, Riley takes her leave and Raelyn sidles up to Hana's side.

"So I was hoping you'd help me with a bouquet too, Hana."

"Oh, of course! What message would you like to send with the bouquet?" Hana says smiling warmly at Raelyn.

"Well, it's a bouquet for someone very special to me." Raelyn says staring intensely into Hana's eyes, making Hana blush and bite her lip.

"Is there a flower that means you take my breath away? Perhaps a flower that says you're the most beautiful woman in the world and you make my heart flutter in my chest every time you smile at me?"At Raelyn's words, Hana looks down smiling but Raelyn gently lifts her chin to look at them.

"A flower that means I want to spend the rest of my life, in whatever capacity you'll have of me, making you smile?" Raelyn says causing Hana to gasp at the inclination of Raelyn's words.

"Rae..." Hana trails off before throwing her arms around Raelyn's shoulders and kissing them fiercely.

Time passes in a haze of warm kisses that slowed down from a fierce storm to a gentle caress. When the 2 pulls back to look at the bud of the night blooming flower, they watched the petals unfurl and nearly shimmer in the moonlight.

"Whoa." Raelyn says stunned.

"It's beautiful!" Hana exclaims.

"Not as beautiful as you, Hana."

"Oh Raelyn." Hana says softly.

"I promise, Hana. I'm going to help my sister clear her name, and you and I are going to figure this thing out between us." Raelyn says determined.

A bright smiles creeps onto Hana's face before she replies, "I'd like that very much, my darling."

@hanaleeappreciationweek

@lizzybeth1986

@sazanes

#choices #pixelberry #playchoices #Trr #the royal romance #hanaleeappreciationweek #hana lee #hlaw 2024 #hlaw day 2: flowers #Hlaw day 2 #Hlaw

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kristinamae093 · 1 year

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Ghosted

Ghosted - Confession (Chapter 5)

Book/Pairing - TRR- Liam x MC (Riley Brooks)

A/N1 - This AU starts right before the beginning of the engagement tour. There is a two-month lapse between the coronation and where we pick up, but we will stray from canon. Please excuse any errors found.

Characters belong to Pixelberry

A few days later, Drake and Olivia arrived at Applewood Manor a day ahead of the court. Maxwell could not come early due to Bertrand, although he had eased up on him a little since the King strongly encouraged him to do so.

Drake and Olivia stood outside Riley’s door and waited anxiously to see if Liam was going to show up. Since he and Maxwell left his room a few nights earlier, Drake had not interacted with Liam. At that time, he appeared to have no interest in their investigation. Drake sent him a text the night before and told him what time they were meeting, but avoided specific details; Liam would know what it meant. Liam opened the message but never responded.

“I’m actually kind of nervous,” Drake said as he wiped his palms on his jeans.

“I don’t see why,” Olivia chided. “There's a chance we could find a lead in there. That’s a good thing.”

“No, I know. I’m just really hoping Liam shows up…” Drake trailed off.

"Walker, he's coming. Liam can bullshit all he wants, but at the end of the day, you know as well as I do; he is an emotionally driven man. He won’t be able to stay away.”

Drake sighed. “I hope you’re right…”

The two stood in content silence for a long while. As more time passed, both felt increasingly nervous Liam really wouldn’t show up.

They could still proceed without him, but Olivia specifically wanted Liam present. That way, if they found evidence of some sort, Liam could not question its origin. Furthermore, it would be increasingly easier to proceed with the King as the head of their investigation. Olivia had some pull as a duchess, but Liam’s spectrum of resources was insurmountable. Without that, it could take years to uncover the plot against Riley.

After a long while, Drake grew restless. “Fuck it.” He huffed as he reached for the handle.

Olivia was quick to swat his hand away. “Not yet.”

“He’s not coming, Olivia! He would’ve been here by now!”

“Let’s just… give him ten more minutes.”

“Listen, I want him to show up too, but I’m not surprised he isn’t! He-“

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching down the hallway cut Drake off. They looked up to see Liam as he made his way toward them. He stopped a few feet from the door and stood between Drake and Olivia. He never said a word, just stood and stared blankly at the structure in front of him. He finally looked at Drake and nodded his head towards the door; a silent order to open it.

The door opened, and they all stepped inside. Liam felt a wave of déjà vu hit him as he remembered the last time he had been inside this room, the morning they discovered Riley was gone.

The lump in his throat was already prominent. Liam wasn’t even sure why he had shown up. He debated it in the couple of days that had passed since his conversation with Drake and Maxwell. Ultimately, his curiosity got the best of him. He decided in the long run some closure could help him move past Riley Brooks, once and for all.

Liam looked around the room at his entrance and made his way over to the bed. The white and gold comforter was tucked in all appropriate places, the throw at the bottom pristinely folded, and the pillows perfectly fluffed. The setup was completed with a small guest card that lay on the pillows with calligraphy etched ‘AW’ and a breath mint.

Liam glanced at the dresser and approached it. He started at the bottom drawers and worked his way up, only to find all of them still deserted. The marble top of the structure sparkled in the afternoon sun, not a speck of dust in sight.

Liam turned and quickly peeked inside the closet. He flipped the light switch and the small, all white room became illuminated. He saw the barren shelves for shoes, and the loose hangers that hung from the wall to wall bar.

From there, Liam proceeded to the bathroom. Although he had not really checked the location the last time he had been here, he could only assume it too was emptied out.

As Liam entered, a faint fragrance of orange zest and vanilla filled the air; it still smelled like her, even two months later. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as the heavenly scent filled his nostrils and transported him back to better times.

For a brief moment, Liam let himself drift back to the last time he saw Riley, on the swing in the maze here in Applewood; the last time he actually remembers feeling happy, and not hollowed out inside.

He recalled how the wind rustled through her hair, the way her bright beautiful eyes twinkled in the dim crescent moonlight, and her boisterous laugh he loved hearing so much. He was hopeful for the future and excited to begin a life with her, and she acted as if she wanted the same. The way she looked at him before he kissed her on the swing; he swore he could see his feelings reflected in her eyes.

But she left only a few hours later.

Liam shook his head and started his search through the bathroom, beginning with the shower. He pulled the curtain back and found nothing. He quickly glanced over to the large built in shelving unit and saw that it was empty as well. After looking there, he directed his attention to the counter and its drawers. He opened and closed every single one, but found signs of Riley or anything relevant.

Liam looked up and stopped when he saw his reflection in the mirror. As he gazed at himself, he felt another forceful wave of déjà vu overtake him. His expression was almost exactly as it was a few hours after Riley had left; defeat, hopelessness, and sorrow is what stared back at him. It’s as if he was living through the day she left all over again.

He didn’t want to admit it to anyone, but Liam had secretly hoped they would find something, anything, even if it pointed to her leaving with Tariq.

But deep down, it disappointed Liam there was nothing there to prove her innocence. As much as he tried to fight it, the more he thought about the idea of her being set up in some way, the more his heart ached for her. That would mean she didn’t abandon him, and might have returned the feelings he had for her.

But there was nothing there.

Liam shook his head and looked away from the mirror. He took a deep breath and wiped away the lone tear that had escaped down his cheek. He squared his shoulders, set his jaw, and made his way out of the bathroom.

As Liam reentered the bedroom, he approached Olivia, who was deep in thought as she stared out a window. Liam stood beside her and looked out with her.

“This is the window,” Olivia stated as she kept her gaze in front of her. Liam did not answer, but waited for her to continue. “The only way they could have taken those photos is from this tree. They were waiting or knew when exactly to show up here. This was not a coincidence, or them just getting caught. Someone knew Tariq would be in here…”

Liam pondered that for a moment; it was incredibly suspicious. Aside from the fact the photographer had to have waited in this tree, that was a closed party. The front gates didn't permit the entry of any press. There should not have been any way for this person to make it to the back of the estate with the party going on in the front.

Liam turned to Olivia. “I agree with you.” she twisted to meet his gaze. “It’s not coincidental that a reporter was in this tree at the right time… But…” He sighed and turned his gaze back out the window. “I don’t know what we can do with any of this, Olivia. The knowledge of where the photos were taken doesn't prove anything. At best, we’re poking holes in the narrative.”

“That’s a good thing! If we poke enough, that story will crumble!”

Liam was silent a moment before he responded. “But how long will that take? We came here, we searched, and found nothing. Where else is there to look? What else is there to do? There is no evidence to be found in this room, and we have inspected thoroughly.”

“How did that photographer get there, Liam? Answer me that.” Olivia snapped. Her patience with Liam’s denial was growing dangerously thin.

Drake interjected himself. “Li, she’s right… How did they get past the gate?”

Liam remained silent a long moment before he quipped, “Again if there wasn’t something suspicious happening in here to begin with, there would be no questions! How did Tariq end up here?”

“You’re still on this? You seriously believe she invited him here?” Olivia asked with a bewildered expression. “Did you even once think about the possibility that she didn’t? That he was an unwanted visitor?! I showed you the pictures, Liam. Her body language damn near confirms that theory!”

Liam turned away from her as he rubbed his forehead. He mumbled something under his breath, but Olivia couldn’t make it out. She sighed and forced the most reassuring tone she could. “Liam, I realize this is hard on you, but-“

Liam indignantly laughed. “Olivia, you think you know how hard this has been on me, but you don’t. First, you weren’t even here. Second, you can’t fathom the amount of sleepless nights I’ve endured trying to make sense of this. You don’t know I’ve been battling myself for the past two months, trying to convince myself that I hate her. You didn’t endure the humiliation, you didn’t have to answer questions from the press about her after the fact. I still have to avoid questions about her, hell they even drill Madeleine about it!”

“Liam-“

“No, I’m not finished,” Liam said in a stern voice as held his hand up to stop her. “I finally got to a point where I can get through the day without having to excuse myself to keep my emotions in check. I finally got to a point where I was forcing myself to look forward, even though I was looking at a future without her. Then here you come, and it’s like you’ve put me back in that situation all over again. You see that, right? You see how much turmoil this is causing me, but yet you still continue to push. How much more do you think I can withstand? Or do you want me to break, again, for the world to see? Is that it?!“

Drake answered. “Of course not, Liam! We’re trying to help you!”

“Does this look like it’s helping me? Does it?” Liam snapped.

“Because you’re not listening to us!”

“He’s right. We can’t help you if you won’t open your eyes and see the truth!” Olivia added.

“If you really wanted to help me, then you’d leave me out of this,” Liam retorted.

Drake spoke, “Come on, Liam. We can still look outside, by the tree, or-“

“My heart just cannot withstand anymore of this back and forth. I made my decision and stuck to it. I don’t need you two, or three now, I guess with Maxwell, filling my head with hope that is not real,” Liam interrupted.

Liam met eyes with both Drake and Olivia, a silent attempt to portray everything he felt in that moment to them. It didn’t matter what he believed, or what his heart wanted to hold on to; his duty called him to continue forward, and that’s exactly what had to do.

Liam raised his hand again and cut off Olivia and Drake, who were both about to reply. He then walked towards the door, hanging his head and spoke quietly, "Please refrain from including me in the future...".

Liam reached the door and opened it, only to be met by a maid on the other side. “Oh! Your Majesty!” She dropped into a quick curtsy, “I apologize, we weren’t expecting guests today. I can come back later.” She said and went to turn around.

Drake and Olivia shared a look and decided they needed to find out if she could tell them anything useful; Liam was right, there wasn’t anything there. This was their last-ditch attempt to learn something of relevance.

Olivia darted across the room and positioned herself next to Liam in the doorway. “Not so fast.” She said, “I’d like to ask you a couple of questions.”

“Olivia, I don’t really think this is necessary.”

Olivia met Liam’s gaze. “Oh, but it is necessary, Liam. Surely the staff hasn’t changed that much since the social season.”

“Olivia…“

Olivia ignored Liam and instead turned her attention to the maid in front of her. “The woman who was in this room during the social season, Riley Brooks; do you know anything about her?”

The woman stammered. “Oh… I… Well, I knew of her, yes.”

“And on the night of the Country Jamboree, you were working?”

“Yes.”

“Do you recall seeing her at the party that night?”

“I-I don’t remember anything specific, but I’m sure I saw her at some point. It was a busy night.”

Olivia eyed the woman critically. “Mmmhmmm… And did you see her after the party?”

“After?“

“Yes, after.”

The maid looked down before she quietly responded. “I-I did, yes.”

“You saw her after she left the jamboree?” Liam asked in disbelief.

“O-only briefly, Your Majesty.”

Liam quickly weighed his options; he had wanted to get far, far away from this room and this situation two minutes ago. He wanted to forget Riley Brooks ever existed, once and for all, and move on with his life.

But that small sliver of hope Liam thought he had buried ignited. He couldn’t ignore it, as it began to gnaw at his conscience. He couldn’t explain it, but something inside of himself told him he needed to question this woman.

Liam stood to his full height and cleared his throat. “Please, Mrs?”

“Rhonda.”

“Rhonda, please come in. It appears we do have some questions for you.”

Liam led Rhonda inside the room and sat her down on the couch, Drake and Olivia close behind him. Drake and Olivia remained standing by the bed, Liam took a seat directly across from Rhonda.

“Am…Am I in trouble, sir?” Rhonda asked in a timid voice.

“Not at all. We only want to ask you a few questions.” Liam reassured her.

“O-okay.”

“You said you saw Lady Riley after she had left the country jamboree; is that correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Please, explain.”

“I only saw her walking away, sir. Her gait was a tad unsteady, but she was headed towards the servant’s exit with someone in a suit.”

Olivia spoke up from her position by the bed. “Someone in a suit?”

“Yes. I could tell it was a male, but I don’t know who it was… He turned around, but I didn’t recognize him.”

“Could it have been Tariq?” Olivia asked, not so much to the woman, but to the group.

The maid spoke again before anyone else could answer. “No, it wasn’t him. I do know him, as he was one to continuously call for assistance.”

Drake rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“How was her gait unsteady, though? I need a better explanation.” Olivia asked as she crossed her arms.

“She just seemed a bit wobbly on her feet. The man held a hand out to help her a couple times before they disappeared…”

“Hmmm…” Olivia pondered, her mind swirling trying to piece in the newly added information.

“I hate to be the one to say it, but it was a party… and she spent the majority of her time with fucking Maxwell. Even I’ll admit that Max can hold his liquor like no other. If she even had a small portion of what I know he did, she probably felt all kinds of fucked up.” Drake admitted with wide eyes. Olivia stood next to him and slightly nodded her head, although she remained deep in her thoughts over the matter.

Liam remained mute as well, but once again recalled his last conversation with Riley. She didn’t seem drunk or inebriated in any fashion. And when they kissed, her lips tasted sweet, like honey with a brief hint of mint, not alcohol.

Liam shook the thought from his head and instead continued his line of questions. “You said Riley was heading toward the servant exit?”

“Yes sir. There’s a stairwell at the end of the hall that leads directly to it.”

Drake spoke next, “I use it all the time. That thing is narrow. She would’ve had a helluva time getting her shit through it.”

“Why were you up here to begin with?” Liam asked.

Rhonda looked at the floor in front of her and was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke, she avoided eye contact with everyone in the room. Her tone was quiet and shaky; nobody would have heard her, but the room stood completely still while they awaited her answer.

“...I was called to pack her things, clean up the room, and move them elsewhere…”

Silence; a pin could have dropped, and it would have sounded like it had come from a loudspeaker.

After a moment, Olivia spoke. “Repeat that.”

“I-I was told to pack up, clean the room, and move her belongings.”

Another deafening silence overtook the room, somehow worse than the first. All three were completely stunned by what this woman had just said, and each needed a moment to collect themselves. Drake and Olivia were quick to snap out of it. Liam, on the other hand…

“Who told you to come up here?” Olivia questioned.

“I don’t know who it was, only that it was a male. They used the phone in the room to call down to request service. Again, all I can tell you for certain is that it was not Lord Tariq. I would have recognized the voice.”

Olivia nodded her head in understanding before she asked, “What did you mean by ‘clean up the room’?”

“It was quite messy in here when I arrived.” Rhonda pointed to a planter in the corner. “That had to be replaced; it was shattered.”

“Did you notice anything else out of the ordinary?” Drake chimed in.

Rhonda looked back at the floor before she quietly responded. “I… I did clean up some blood…”

“Blood?” Olivia mimicked with a raised brow. Rhonda nodded her head, but remained silent. “And you didn’t think that was worth mentioning to someone?” She snapped.

“We aren’t supposed to pay attention to what’s inside of the rooms. We have a strict privacy policy-.”

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit! If you saw blood, you should’ve said something to someone, period.” Drake hissed.

Rhonda bowed her head and murmured, “I know, I should have. I regret not doing so… I’ve regretted it every day since…”

Liam sat and stared at the woman in front of him with a blank expression. It’s as if his world had stood still for a brief moment, yet completely turned upside down. He could vaguely hear Olivia and Drake continue their line of questions, but he couldn’t hear much over the sound of his heart as it thundered in his ears. His hands trembled in his lap, and he found it hard to catch his breath at that moment.

Liam couldn’t believe what he had just heard. He reached down and pinched his thigh, as if to check that he really was awake. He had had dreams similar to this, but never thought in a million years it could be reality.

So much ran through his mind at that moment, but everything else faded into the background as he remembered her initial confession. Liam returned his focus to the woman in front of him with a narrowed gaze; he needed to see it for himself.

“Where?” Liam asked in a low, timbre tone as he stood from his seat with a menacing glare.

Rhonda’s eyes widened as she hurriedly stood as well. She stumbled for words as her King’s stare tore through her. “I-I-“

“WHERE did you put her things?!” Liam bellowed directly in the much smaller woman’s face.

“West grounds.“ She whispered, afraid to speak any louder due to her King’s proximity.

“West grounds?” Liam mimicked in disbelief.

She didn’t say a word, only rapidly nodded her head. To say it astonished Liam would be an understatement. He found it hard to control his temper at that moment, as months of pent-up emotions spilled over.

Liam stalked toward her. “How dare you? You-you knew something! This whole time, and did nothing!” Liam bellowed as he inched closer and closer to her until her back hit the wall and he towered over her. “Have you seen the news? Have you?!” He growled as he slammed his palm against the wall next to her head.

Olivia's and Drake’s eyes grew wide; Drake sprinted to Liam and put a hand on his shoulder from behind to force him to retreat, but Liam shook him off. Drake moved around to the side of the pair and put his hand on Liam’s chest to urge him back enough for Drake to put his leg in the space between them.

Liam receded a step but didn’t go further. Olivia came over and stood next to Drake. “She was doing her job. Is it ethical? Absolutely fucking not! But getting emotional and screaming at the one solid lead we have is not going to help us find more information!”

“FUCK!” Liam shouted and turned away from them. He grabbed the coffee table and lifted it up with ease, hurling it across the room.

“Li! Calm down!” Drake yelled.

“Do NOT tell me to fucking calm down!” Liam roared as he moved directly into Drake’s personal space.

Drake’s eyes widened; he put his hands up in surrender and took a step away. “Woah, Liam, it’s me! Okay?! I’m on your side!”

Liam sidestepped Drake so he could visibly see the maid. “Take us to the west grounds.” He demanded, his tone sharp and flat.

Drake and Olivia exchanged a worried glance; of course, they wanted to go investigate, but both were nervous as to if Liam was in a stable enough state to accompany them there. “Are you sure you want-”

“WE’RE GOING TO THE WEST GROUNDS, NOW!” Liam bellowed, not once breaking his gaze from Rhonda.

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karahalloway · 7 months

Text

Devil May Care

Fandom: Heaven’s Secret (Book 1: Season 1)

Pairing: Lucifer x F!OC (Devon Hart)

Series: Oh, So Devilish

Chapter summary: Devon sneaks off to track down a lead on her death... But she's not alone.

Word count: 5,100

Warnings: M (swearing, angst, suicidal thoughts, aggro, toxic behaviour, references to death, physical violence)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: So. This is not what I was supposed to be working on. At all. Not only is this not Intentions, but it’s not even TRR… or Choices, for that matter. However, a couple of weeks ago, @angelasscribbles convinced me to take the plunge with a Romance Club choices game called Heaven’s Secret and I became instantly hooked… especially on Lucifer’s character. I have a type; can’t you tell? 😆

A/N2: This first part of what turned into a two-parter (it just got too long, so I had to split it) focuses on the events that take place at the end of HS S1E5 and the second part focuses on the start of S1E6. Because while I love the character of Lucifer, I felt like that his characterisation missed the mark a bit (especially considering that he is the literal Son of Satan) so, I decided to make… adjustments 😏

A/N3: I appreciate that this is not what most people on my tag list signed up to read, but I have tagged my Permas anyway, in case anyone wants to indulge me. However, in the (highly likely) event that I end up writing more for this fandom, moving forward, I will only tag people who specifically request to be tagged. So if you want in on Part 2, let your preferences be known, or forever hold your peace.

A/N4: By way of context for people who decide to read, but are not familiar with canon for this story, here is some background (which I have also tried to incorporate as much as possible into the fic itself): MC (default name, Vicky Walker, but for various reasons, I decided to create an OC instead) is killed in a car crash. However, instead of ‘simply’ dying, she is offered the choice to become an immortal and join the Angels & Demons Academy (located in Heaven) and train to become either an angel or a demon (your choices in the game actually affect your path — prior to choosing an eventual side, you are referred to as an ‘Unclaimed’). As part of her training, MC is sent down to Earth to complete assignments that require her to influence humans into making various choices… however, MC is also secretly trying to investigate the circumstances of her (highly suspicious) death. Also, for the purposes of this universe, Lucifer is the demon son of Satan and Lilith (not a fallen angel as per Biblical canon). Dino, Sammy and Fencio are true-born angels (don’t ask about the names), Mimi and Adi are true-born demons. Both angels and demons (and Unclaimed) are anthropomorphic and have wings; however, when they go down to Earth, they disguise themselves in human form. Hope that helps! 🤗

Devil May Care

“Ah, there you are…”

Jerking my gaze away from Dino, I spot Sammy’s human form standing a few feet away.

“Sorry,” I say, quickly wiping the remnants of the wetness from my face. “I… I just needed a minute.”

Sammy nods in understanding. “If it’s any consolation, the fact that you care is a good thing. It shows you still have your humanity. No death should be treated lightly, yet most demons… and a fair number of angels have lost sight of that. But it’s a strength. Don’t let Adi or Mimi tell you otherwise.”

“Thanks, Sammy…” I say with a sniffle, forcing myself to stand.

“Any time,” he acknowledges with a lop-sided smirk. “But we should get going.”

“Yes. It is time to return,” confirms Dino, coming to stand beside me.

As if on cue, the air begins to thicken around us, and a familiar crackle of energy raises the hairs on my arms. Glancing up, I see the very fabric of the night sky stretch and strain as an otherworldly wind whips the now-familiar bridge between the dimensions into shape.

Dino steps into the centre of the maelstrom first, lifting into the air as the vortex sucks him back to the ethereal realm.

“See you on the other side,” Sammy winks as he leaps after the other angel.

With a heavy exhale, I shove my hands into the pockets of my biker jacket, and force myself to move towards the epicentre of the storm.

Finding myself back on Earth in the wake of my death hadn’t been easy the first time, and it sure as hell hasn’t gotten any easier the second time either. Because even though everyone at the Academy keeps reminding me that my mortal life is well and truly over, and there is no going back, for whatever inexplicable reason I can’t seem to accept my new-found providence.

And coming back here — to the human realm — just feels like a massive kick in the gut each and every time… Like a kid being taunted with everything they can’t have from the other side of a toy store window. A cruel reminder of what that was wrenched away from me. My friends… My family… Even myself.

The undeniable force of the vortex tugs at my clothes, trying to lift me skywards, but I find myself fighting it.

Maybe because my death had been thrust upon me with such shocking suddenness… giving me no time to prepare, much less come to terms with it before I fell into the world of angels and demons. Maybe because the grief I saw etched into my father’s face has woven itself into the threads of my soul as well, reinforcing the harshness of the truth that we got cheated out of what could have been left of our precious, irretrievable time together. Or maybe it’s because I know that my killer is still out there, living it up despite the crime he committed against me, free from punishment, free from the scythe of justice.

The tip of my finger brushes against the folded letter buried in my pocket.

Since picking it up outside of my house a few days ago — though, to be fair, I have no idea how time converted between Earth and the angelic realm, so for all I know, it could’ve been years since my last visit – I’ve carried the piece of paper with me everywhere. In part because I don’t want anyone finding it and wondering how I managed to get my hands on it in the first place… As given that we aren’t supposed to interact with mortals outside of our given assignments, I am not particularly interested in the chewing out that is no doubt in store for me if someone decides to rat on me. But also, in part because I cannot let what happened to me go… and desperately crave answers.

Digging my heels in on the edge of the swirling whirlpool of energy, I pull the letter out…

…but as if by fate, the square of paper is ripped from my grasp by a particularly vicious gust of wind.

“No…!” I gasp, throwing myself heedlessly after my only lead.

The letter zooms around the circumference of the vortex — like a hapless butterfly riding the edge of a tornado — and begins to track upwards, ever further from my reach…

But just as it’s on the verge of vanishing into the void, it is suddenly snatched out of the air with inhuman speed and precision.

I stumble to stop, mouth agape and arm outstretched like some drunken ballerina as I lay eyes on the dark form on the other side of the vortex.

Crap…

Of all the possible ways this screw-up could’ve gone, this is — hands down — the worst.

As even in human skin… without the horned wings gathered around him like a dark halo, or the pulsing, ethereal tattoos that seem to constantly shift along the visible surface of his skin… there is no mistaking the raw power emanating from the being standing across from me.

Lucifer cocks a lazy brow in my direction as he holds the note up. “Lost something, have we?”

His eyes meets mine, and in spite of the distance separating us, I feel the full heat of the fire that burns in his demonic gaze scorch into me like the blade of a hot knife.

And despite drawing upon every ounce of my willpower to prevent it from happening, I feel an incriminating blush rise up my cheeks.

A slow smile curves at his lips. “I thought so…”

“Give it back!” I snap, my momentary embarrassment morphing instantly into anger… even though I know in the back of my mind this is exactly the reaction he is probably looking to goad me into.

Because I am angry. Angry at myself for being stupid enough to arm someone like Lucifer with such potent ammunition to use against me. Angry with him for the fact that he managed to sneak up on me like this in the first place.

But most of all, my heart is still bleeding for that little girl who died a senseless death mere minutes ago… and the knowledge that I had been complicit in it.

And I cannot keep a latch on the tidal wave of red rising over me. Nor do I really want to.

I have already cried a river on the bench with Dino — commiserating not just for the fate of the girl, but for the fucked up situation I now find myself in as well — and I have no tears left. Just raw, frothing rage at the inherent unjustness of the world, at the flippant and uncaring attitude of my fellow immortals who see humans as mere pawns on their eternal chess board, and my own powerlessness in the face of forces and rules that I don’t yet fully understand, but which I’m being steered to blindly conform to anyway.

And the arrogant demon standing in front of me is just as good a scapegoat for my ire as any.

“Or what?” he taunts, sliding his thumb slowly across the paper… taunting me shamelessly with the missive he now holds in his hand.

Something inside of me snaps and I launch myself at him with a wordless yell.

But the vortex has apparently had enough of being kept on hold by my indecision, and before I’ve made it two steps, I find myself being sucked up to go careening through time and space like a discombobulated pinball.

“Damn it!” I cuss as I’m tugged through the shimmering funnel against my will.

I had one chance to make some much-needed progress on figuring out who killed me and why, and I’ve managed to blow it.

And who knows when I’ll have the opportunity to try again? Or even if I’ll be able to try again…

As knowing Lucifer — the literal Spawn of Satan — he’ll end up throwing me under the bus the moment we get back to the Academy… just for perverse kicks.

“Asshole…” I gripe under my breath as I feel the speed of the vortex slow, indicating that my unplanned trip is about to come to an end.

But as my feet touch down once more, it is not back at the Academy where I find myself. Instead, I’m standing outside of a building that looks very much like a police station… in my hometown.

“Huh…”

Dino had mentioned previously that destinations in the vortex are set by one’s intentions.

Since I had been so focused on the letter — which my father had received from the lead detective assigned to my case — the vortex must’ve thought this is where I had wanted to go.

And I’m not about to look an unexpected gift horse in the mouth.

Knowing that I didn’t have a lot of time before my classmates — and Fencio! — notice my absence back in the angelic realm, I hurry across the street.

Taking the steps two at a time, I shove myself through the revolving door and step into the station. Luckily, I have the contents of the letter memorised, given that I no longer have it in my possession, so I’m hoping that I’ll be able to blag my way through this with some semblance of grace.

The receptionist manning the counter looks up at my arrival. “Can I help you?”

“Erm… Yes,” I confirm, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear as I step forward. “I’m looking for DC Lawton. He was heading up the Hart case…?”

I cross my fingers behind my back, hoping against hope that it’s only been mere weeks and not decades since my death, and the police are still investigating.

The receptionist takes a moment to consult her computer. “Yes. He should still be in.”

A relieved breath bursts out of me. Another break!

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Not exactly…” I admit. “But… I do have some information relating to the case that he needs to hear.”

The woman behind the desk studies me for a long moment, no doubt wondering what a petite Korean girl wearing pink pigtails and spiked leather could possibly have to contribute to a homicide investigation… given that that is the mortal skin I am currently masquerading around in.

But she nevertheless seems to take me at my word. “Down the hall, second door on the left.”

“Thank you!” I blurt, already turning away.

Speedwalking past the desk and down the corridor, I locate the correct door and push down on the handle without knocking.

The lone man occupying the room barely glances up from his stack of papers at the sound of my arrival. “Yeah?”

“DC Lawton?” I ask, stepping into the room.

“That’s what it says on the name plaque,” he grunts, indicating the front of his desk.

“Great!” I exclaim, moving up to him. “I…”

I trail off, realising that I haven’t actually planned out what I was going to say when I got here. As I can’t exactly reveal that I am the dead victim from one of his case files, come to demand answers about the circumstances of the car crash that killed her.

The detective raises his head, waiting for a response..

I take a deep breath. “I hear you’re the lead investigator on the Hart case.”

He nods. “That’s right. And you are?”

“An interested party,” I admit. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

His brows furrow, no doubt in response to the same train of thought that chugged down the tracks of the receptionist’s mind earlier. “What kind of interested party?”

Shit…

I’m not sure exactly how I had expected this conversation to go, but it definitely wasn’t like this.

But then I remember that I’m not a mere human anymore…

And I’m not willing to leave empty-handed.

Ditching any rational approach, I scrunch my face up in pretend grief as I flop dramatically into the chair at the side of the detective’s desk. “I didn’t want to say anything before because I didn’t want anyone to know… especially my parents… but I can’t keep it in anymore and I need to tell someone!”

DC Lawton startles slightly at my unexpected and borderline theatrical flip of composure. “Keep what in anymore?”

I slap an aggrieved hand onto his. “That Devon and I were in a relationship!”

The detective’s eyes widen in shock, and I use his momentary surprise to lock my gaze with his, just like we practiced back at the Academy.

The physical contact, combined with the suddenly unrestricted access to the window of his soul, allows me to breach the energetic wall encasing his body, and dive right into the hidden recesses of his mind.

Yes! It worked!

But I force myself to curtail my celebration, knowing that I need to focus all my attention on maintaining the delicate connection with the man sitting in front of me.

“You must help me, Detective,” I urge, tightening my hold on his hand.

DC Lawton looks somewhat dazed — like he’s been whacked over the back of the head — but at the sound of my voice, his pupils dilate eagerly. “How can I help?”

“The girl in the Hart case that you’re investigating… she was run off the road. Do you know by who?”

“No,” he intones, his voice slightly groggy. “The vehicle was a rental. A black minivan. I haven’t had a chance to talk to the rental company yet…”

“Which rental company?” I press.

“Global Drive,” he says. “The license plate is NYK 357.”

“Can you write that all down for me?”

He lifts his pen up with a nod to scribble onto a Post-It. “Your hand is so warm…”

“Thanks,” I say, snatching the note from him and breaking off the contact in the process.

He blinks up at me rapidly. “Any time…?”

Jumping up from the chair, I turn to dash out of the room…

…and nearly trip over my own feet when I come face to face with the glowering form leaning against the door jamb.

“What th—?”

Lucifer’s lips curl back to reveal teeth. “I should have you racked in the Pits.”

An involuntary shiver runs down my spine at his words. Not because of the sinister nature of the threat — I’ve been to Hell, and it certainly is no picnic! — but because I can see from the tight set of his jaw that he is actively considering carrying it out.

I force myself to meet his burning gaze head-on. “Well, unfortunately for you, I didn’t end up in Hell when I died. So, you don’t get to make that call.”

“No,” he growls back. “But your flagrant disregard for the rules makes you a liability, and I refuse to take the fall for you.”

“Well, maybe you should’ve thought of that before you decided to follow me,” I hit back, bumping him with my shoulder as I shove past him on my way out of the room.

His hand shoots out to latch around my arm with a vice-like grip, and suddenly I find myself nose-to-nose with him.

“I didn’t follow you,” he hisses into my face, his coal-black irises alight with the very fires of Hell. “The vortex brought me here because you can’t keep hold of your own fucking trash.”

“It’s not trash!” I spit back. “It’s—“

“Was it worth it?”

The question — and the sudden change in his tone — catches me off guard.

I blink in confusion, wondering if I maybe misheard him. But while his piercing gaze is still locked onto me with the same degree of ferociousness as a moment ago, behind the raging inferno of irritation glimmers a genuine spark of curiosity.

“Maybe,” I concede tightly, trying to get a read on him.

As demons, I’ve learnt, are inherent wildcards. Unpredictable at the best of times, and downright diabolical at the worst. Which means their whims and whiles can change at the drop of a hat, and it is dangerous to get caught in a compromising position with them.

Which — unfortunately — is exactly where I have managed to find myself with Lucifer. Trapped in a corner, with him holding all the trumps. So, I don’t want to admit any more than I strictly have to.

He rakes his hot gaze over me one more time — as if trying to catch me out in a lie — before pulling back slightly.

“Hmm… Not a complete waste of wings then…”

I wrench my arm from his grasp. “Fuck you.”

I swear I hear a snort of amusement escape him as I stomp away… But I resist the urge to sucker punch him. He is not worth it, and I have better things to do with my limited time on Earth anyway.

Glancing down at the Post-It in my hand, I can see that DC Lawton has been kind enough to scrawl down the address of the rental centre… and that it is only a few blocks away.

Which is a blessing, given that I don’t have any money on me with which to hail a cab or jump on a bus, and our lessons at the Academy have yet to cover how to magically hotwire a car.

So, walking it is. At least the physical exertion will give me a chance to blow off some steam.

Shoving the note into my pocket, I push through the revolving doors of the station, and back out onto the street. Pausing for a second to get my bearings – it’s been a while since I last frequented this part of town, having spent the preceding four years of my mortal life off at college – I quickly rake through my mental map of the neighbourhood before setting off to the right.

Except, I don’t even make it to the end of the block before I feel a tell-tale prick in the back of my neck. Glancing over my shoulder, my stomach drops as I catch sight of Lucifer a few yards behind me.

Gritting my teeth, I pick up my pace, hoping that it’s merely an unfortunate coincidence that he happens to be going in the same direction as me.

But it seems that I am in no such luck, as he’s still tailing me two blocks later, like an annoying black fly that I cannot seem to shake, no matter how hard I try.

With the result that by the time I get to the next crosswalk, my cool has evaporated completely, and instead of crossing the road in front of me, I end up rounding on him like a rabid pitbull.

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite!”

My outburst seems to catch him off-guard. But whatever jump I may have managed to get on him is fleeting at best, and in the next instant, he’s up in my face again, teeth bared and hackles raised. “Watch your tongue, Unclaimed. Before I rip it out of your mouth.”

“Oh, the truth hurts, does it?” I snip up at him.

“You don’t know the meaning of pain,” he grits, his hand snapping around the base of my throat.

My eyes narrow. “I know more than you think.”

“No. You don’t.” The flames in his eyes lick over me contemptuously. “And your arrogance will get you killed. Permanently.”

“Bet you’d love to be the one to do it, too,” I goad with a humourless smile.

I know I’m playing with hellfire. But I don’t care. I didn’t ask for this life, and I’m still not convinced I want it. So, if Lucifer is willing to put me out of my misery, then so be it. Being who he is, I’m sure he has the means… and I’ve just handed him the opportunity on a silver platter.

The Prince of Darkness stares at me for what feels like an age, his hand wrapped around my throat, face a mere breath from mine, his gaze simmering as if trying to read my very soul.

“Unlike you, angel, I’m not that stupid,” he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. His hand drops from my neck as he steps abruptly past me.

“Then why are you still here?” I demand, whirling around after him.

He stops a few feet away, shoulders tense. But when he looks back at me, rather than anger or annoyance, it’s that devilish grin playing at his lips again. “Maybe I’m just enjoying the show.”

“Eugh!” I grit, throwing my hands up in the air as I plow past him.

Conceited, egotistical, patronising bastard! Why can’t he fall back into the Seventh Circle of Hell, where he fucking—

I’m so incessed that I end up storming right by the rental centre… and have to retrace my steps from the other end of the block to correct my mistake.

So, by the time I arrive back at the correct entranceway, my mood is even more foul than when I left the police station.

“Save it,” I spit as I reach the still-smirking form of Lucifer, leaning against the metal fence post of the lot.

His brow arches. “Did you hear me—?”

I flip him off in no uncertain terms as I stride past without a backwards glance.

He wants to stick around? Fine. But that doesn’t mean I need to be nice to him. Hell will have to freeze over first.

Arriving at the first row of parked cars, I pull the Post-It out from my pocket and begin scanning the plates, looking for the black van.

“Good afternoon, miss. Can I help you find anything in particular?”

Looking up, I see a suited man with a combover and a name tag looking at me expectantly. The rental rep, by the looks of him.

“Yes, actually,” I affirm. “I’m looking for a black minivan.”

“You have come to the right place,” he tells me with an eager smile as he starts to lead me to the other side of the lot. “Global Drive stocks the largest selection of rental vans available for hire in the area, and we’re happy to accommodate both long- and short-term requirements. Are you moving, by any chance?”

“Huh?” I’d been too busy trying to match the van plates to the number on the Post-It that I totally missed the question.

The rep’s smile falters slightly. “Since your interest is in a minivan, am I correct to assume that y—?”

“No.”

Both mine and the rep’s gaze snap around to land on the hulking presence of Lucifer, who has managed to slither up behind us without either of us noticing.

“We’re not planning on renting it,” he adds, with what I can only deduce is his interpretation of an angelic smile.

My stomach drops. Oh, no…

The rep frowns. “Then why—?”

“Because this lovely young lady is of the belief that she may have left a rather intimate item in one of your vans following a recent excursion of ours. And she’s desperate to retrieve it.”

“Oh, well of course!" agrees the rep. “We pride ourselves on—"

“It’s lacy… And expensive…” Lucifer clarifies with a sly look. “And probably lodged between the—”

“The point is!” I interject loudly, my cheeks burning with mortification despite the fact that the entire story is a shameless lie. “We would like to take a look in the van. The plate number was NYK 357.”

The demeanour of the rep suddenly shifts. “Umm… Are you certain?”

“Yes,” I say, laying a hand on his arm to try and sway him like I did the detective. “Very—”

The rep snatches his arm away. “I’m going to need to see some ID. I cannot allow access to the vehicles without verifying that—”

I reach towards him again. “Surely that’s not necessary… We just want to take a quick peek, and—”

“He’s going to bolt…” breathes Lucifer in my ear.

I flick my head away irately. “Shut—”

But the rep has already turned tail and fled.

“Damn it!” I grit.

“Told you,” Lucifer smirks down at me.

I give him an annoyed shove. “He only did that because of you! If you hadn’t stuck your nose in it, I would’ve—”

“I did nothing,” he counters tersely, the coals of his eyes flaring in warning. “Your attempt to influence him was doomed from the start. But you were too obstinate to notice.”

“Obstinate!” I cry. “You were breathing in my ear!”

“And did you like it?” he purrs, suddenly all up in my space again as he flips the tables on me with diabolical speed.

“No,” I snort, turning pointedly away.

Asshole…

He deliberately sabotaged my attempt to establish a connection with the rental rep. Whether for his own perverse enjoyment — like the Devil temping Eve in the Garden — or whether for some more sinister reason, it doesn’t matter. The end result is the same. And I have no clue how I’m going to be able to salvage this rapidly snowballing clusterfuck, given that I am already working on borrowed time.

But I know I have to try. I’ve somehow managed to make it this far, in spite of the successive obstacles Lucifer’s thrown in my way, and I refuse to give that bastard the satisfaction of believing that I’m going to let him win whatever one-sided game he’s playing.

“He is gay.”

I stumble to a stop. “Say what?”

Lucifer is standing in front of me, blocking the way to the door of the rental centre. “The rental rep. He is gay. That is why your feeble attempts to influence him didn’t work.”

“Yeah… Right…” I snap, trying to push past him. I’m not falling for whatever kind of trick this is supposed to be.

He grabs my arm. “Check that attitude before I check it for you, Unclaimed. Because you’re not going to like my methods…”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” I hit back. “Because based on what I’ve seen of your ‘methods’, they are mediocre at best.”

His eyes flash in fury. “You’ve seen nothing, angel…”

“I’m not an angel,” I deride, wrenching my arm from his grasp.

He scoffs. “Well, you’re certainly no demon. The way you’re floundering around like—”

I catch sight of something through the window. “Oh, no…”

Lucifer jerks his gaze over his shoulder…

…and before I can blink, he’s vanished into the rental centre, the glass door flapping wildly in his wake.

Catching the handle on the out-swing, I dash after him as fast as my stiletto boots can carry me… and an involuntary gasp escapes me as I lay eyes on the scene in front of me.

The rental rep is pressed up against the wall, his feet dangling a good foot off the ground as Lucifer holds him suspended with the hand locked around his neck. The phone that I’d spotted the rep frantically trying to dial a moment ago lies shattered on the floor.

“Please…” begs the man, clawing desperately at the fingers that are squashing his trachea. “I—“

“Shut up,” growls Lucifer, shoving the rep higher. “You have exactly two seconds to tell us everything we need to know before I rip your throat out. And if you even think about lying… Well, you don’t even want to go there…”

The rep blanches visibly. “Anything! I’ll… I’ll tell you anything! Please, just—“

“Ask him,” Lucifer barks without even a glance in my direction.

I take a shaky step forward. “We… We’re looking for the driver who rented the black van. License plate—”

“I… I know…” croaks the rep, his face starting to redden from the lack of oxygen. “I worked the shift and… and remember him. He never bought the van back…”

My throat tightens painfully. Because he rammed me off the road…

“Who was he?” demands Lucifer.

“Not… local,” the man rasps, struggling for breath. “Gave a hotel as an address… Hotel… Hotel Aphrodite. And his name… His name sounded strange… almost French. But he didn’t speak—”

“To Hell with all that,” comes the short-tempered command. “Give us the fucking name.”

“Am-Amidi Laurent!”

Lucifer drops the rep like a sack of trash. “You got that?”

“Yeah…” I confirm tightly, watching the man wheeze on the floor.

“Good,” he grits. “Let’s go.”

Without giving me a say in the matter, he grabs my wrist to haul me out the door.

I stumble after him like a witless marionette, trying to process what I just witnessed.

Lucifer… Willing to kill… For me…?

The concept simply does not compute.

“Happy now?”

The sound of Lucifer’s voice wrenches me from the whirlpool of my thoughts…

…and looking up, I find that we’re back out on the street, just around the corner from the rental centre.

“I…” I glance back in the direction of Global Drive with a lump in my throat. “Why did you do that?”

“To save time,” he replies dispassionately. “And get the truth out of him.”

“Yeah… But…” A shiver courses through me at the ease with which he’d immobilised the rep… The ease with which he’d threatened him. “Why?”

Lucifer lets out an exasperated exhale. “Hell’s bells, you Unclaimed are dense sometimes… Because that’s what you wanted.”

I gape at him, stupefied. This must be some kind of fever dream…

“Don’t I get a thank you?”

The simplicity of his question knocks me off kilter completely.

My eyes lift to his almost on their own volition, and I find him gazing down at me silently, intently… like a cat waiting to see in which direction the mouse will jump.

Except there is no malice or mockery in his gaze. Just plain old curiosity once again.

And because my tongue has become stuck in my throat, and after everything that’s just happened, my mind is a non-functioning mess, I do the stupidest thing imaginable…

…and reach up to kiss him on the cheek.

He stiffens — probably just as shocked by what’s happening as I would be if I could think coherently right now. But for whatever reason, he doesn’t laugh or pull away. He simply stands, still as a statue, hardly even drawing breath.

I have no idea how long we stay there, frozen in time with my lips pressed against his jaw — the heat of his skin burning me even through the dampener of his mortal guise — before we finally break apart.

I turn quickly away, face flushed and heart hammering, not being able to bring myself to look him in the eye for fear of what I might find there.

Oh, Christ… What the hell did I just do?

The story continues in Devil You Know

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#heavens secret #lucifer #devon hart #lucifer x oc #Spotify

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bebepac · 1 year

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Moonlight Rendevous

I am participating in @choicesflashfics prompt # 40 “I have a reputation to uphold” which will appear in bold.

I am also participating in @choicesjuly2023challenge and @moodmusicmonday song inspiration Rendevous by Little Mix

This is chapter 5 of The Blue Honey Cafe if you need to catch up on this, please feel free to click:

The Blue Honey Cafe Masterlist

The Book: TRR : No royals The pairings: None: TRR MC is single Ratings and Warnings: None Word Count: 1382 Original Post: 07/08/23 at 6:12PM EST. Summary: Riley sees Mason while she’s out and about for an evening.

“Mason, I didn’t know you had a food truck!”

“Pops believed in the hustle, and I followed in his footsteps. I typically only run it in the summertime and into early fall, because there are so many opportunities for extra outdoors events. It’s more light snacks and some sliders sort of thing. Completely different from our typical menu at the restaurant. Are you here alone?”

“Yep, I’m single as a pringle. I didn’t feel like staying in tonight, and I saw the advertisement for the movie on the lawn. I’m trying to put myself out there more, even if I go out alone, you know? I need to be more social, and maybe I’ll make some new friends. That sort of thing.”

“I know, I get it. I have been thinking about the same thing too. Some of my school kids are home for the summer and want to run the food truck to get some hours and I just might let them. That would give me more time to socialize as well.”

“Then that sounds like you already have a plan Mason?”

“I do have a plan.” And it involves the beautiful Riley Brooks, he thought to himself.

“So, have you heard anything about this movie?”

“Yes, I’ve seen the previews, it looks like it’s going to be a crazy movie, when I saw it was The Rotten Apple 🍎 I had to definitely come out tonight and check it out."

“I’ve been wanting to see it too.”

“Maybe you’ll get to have a break, if you do, come find me, you can sit with me for a bit. Help me not feel like a loser sitting by myself here.”

“Riley you’re definitely not a loser, and yes I’ll come find you when I can.”

She smiled at him. I’d like that a lot.”

Riley grabbed her cheeseburger sliders and drink and walked out onto the lawn. She glanced back at the truck, and Mason tried to appear busy, but he was still watching Riley as she walked away. She picked a spot to set up her blanket that was in his eyeline from the food truck. Did she do that on purpose so he’d be able to easily find her?

About thirty minutes into the movie the crowd had died down and everyone was engrossed in the movie Elle, the main character, was something else. She had a very distinct dark side.

“Who’s this large buttered popcorn for Todd?” Mason asked his part time worker.

“For you, I can handle the crowd, you go sit with that cutie you were flirting with.”

Riley was still sitting on the lawn on her blanket alone.

“Are you sure you’ll be good?”

“If the line picks back up, I’ll text you. Go be ‘social.’ She likes you!”

He got Riley a refill and a drink for himself and headed out across the lawn.

“Is this seat taken?” He whispered.

Riley looked up at him beaming.

“It is now, and you brought snacks!”

He sat down on the blanket with Riley placing the popcorn between the two of them.

“I’m glad you could come over here for a bit Mason, to sit here with me.”

“Me too.”

“You work a lot, you should take more time for yourself.”

Mason appeared surprised from her admission.

“Thank you for your concern, I’m trying to do more of that. But, it’s hard when you love your job, it really doesn’t feel like work.”

“I can’t say that about my job.”

“Well maybe you’re doing the wrong thing, Riley.”

It was Riley’s turn to look surprised. Then the person in front of them turned around shushing them.

Mason whispered, “You should always love your job.”

Mason tried not to read too much into it, but as the movie went on, Riley seemed to inch closer to him. She was so close to him that he could smell the perfume of her body and the scent of her shampoo in her hair.

After the movie, Mason helped Riley pick up her things and fold her blanket.

“I had a great time with you Riley.”

“Me too Mason. I loved the movie. They definitely left it open for a sequel. What did you think of it?”

“She did a lot of terrible stuff. But I don’t know why, I still want her to be happy. She kind of just won me over.”

“Because she’s not all bad. She really felt guilt and remorse for the things she had done. ”

“And it’s not every day, you wind up rooting for the villain when you watch something.”

“Exactly……. Well this is awkward.”

“What’s wrong?”

“The food truck, my ride is gone, therefore I have no way to get home.”

“I’ll take you.”

“Thanks Riley, that's nice of you.”

Mason carried all her stuff to the car for her.

“Hey I know, you’re depending on me to get back to your place, but I was wondering if you felt up for doing something else for a little bit? I mean we’re already out, and we both said we need to be more social.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Okay hear me out.. I’ve always wanted to go to this place.”

“Wheelz?!?!?! This used to be my favorite place as a kid. I had several birthday parties here. Midnight skating slaps.”

“But you said this was your favorite place as a kid?”

“Kids can be teenagers too.”

“Are you good at skating?”

“I am great at skating, are you Mason? I wouldn’t have mentioned this place if I couldn’t skate. I’m not trying to embarrass myself. But I wanted to have someone to go with.”

“I’d be honored to go skating with you Riley Brooks.”

Mason was chivalrous, a complete southern gentleman. He had not only opened the door on her own vehicle, he had waited for her to gently get in and close the door behind her. When they made it to Wheelz, Mason jumped out of the vehicle like a rocket, as soon as it was parked, opening the door for her once more.

“Will you at least let me pay for the skate rental?”

“No, it’s the least I can do for your being gracious enough to take me home tonight.”

“I’m not heartless, I wouldn’t leave you stranded like that.”

“It’s the south, I was far from stranded. But I’m glad you decided to indulge your blooming southern charm to help me out. Come on, let’s see what you’ve got out there on the rink.”

“Not bad New York. Not bad at all.” Mason laid on a thickly horrible new york accent.

“Likewise North Cakalacky.” Riley said with an even worse southern accent.

It quickly turned into healthy competition and showboating between the two as they skated around the rink.

The last skate turned out to be a couple’s skate. The music was slow, and almost romantic. She found herself leaning closer into Mason, who had a boyish grin on his face, but he pulled her closer to him too, his hand gripping hers tighter.

That part of the evening was fun and lighthearted, and Riley really enjoyed spending time getting to know Mason. He even had shared with her more about his life and family, which in turn allowed her to have a meaningful conversation with him about her own family. Mason had a lot of sadness in his life but was not jaded by it and was still very upbeat and resilient, which really appealed to her.

“I really enjoyed spending this time with you Mason. I feel like we got a chance to get to know each other a little bit better, and we’re both a little competitive apparently.”

Mason laughed. “Right?!?!?! Nothing like some good healthy competition to get the blood pumping. But seriously Riley, I had a great time with you too.”

Driving back, neither said a word, lost in their own thoughts, and when they pulled to a stop at Mason’s apartment, Riley was the first to speak.

He paused for a moment. “You know Riley, tonight doesn’t have to end right now, if you don’t want it to.”

Riley’s eyes met Mason’s. “Are you asking me up to your place?”

“I am, but it’s completely your choice. I promise to be the perfect gentleman.”

“What if I don’t want you to be, Mason?”

He winked at her. "I have a reputation to uphold."

#bebepac writes #the blue honey cafe #trr fanfic #trr fandom #choices fanfiction #trr riley brooks #trr liam rys #Liam Rys #trr mason #choices fic writers creations #choices monthly challenge #mood music monday

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choicesficwriterscreations · 1 year

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CFWC Writer of the Month - July 2023: AlwaysMyChoices

Each month CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers, and this month’s writer of the month is @alwaysmychoices. We hope you will enjoy learning more about them and their work below! The writer is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page.

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog: AlwaysMyChoices Blog Masterlist

How do you want to be known on Tumblr? May

1- When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played?

I started playing The Royal Romance in December 2017. I have no idea how I found the app, but I was obsessed with that story. My memories from this time are super vague -- I know there was a connection between Cordonia being based on Montenegro and Croatia (two countries I studied abroad in the next summer), a well-placed advertisement, and a Christmas vacation where I was snowed in with too much time on my hands.

2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?

I joined the fandom in January 2018 because I desperately needed to talk about the Royal Romance. I didn’t have any friends who played (and was embarrassed to share), so I started off liking posts from my “real” account (which was a Sims account) and then made this as a “side blog.” Later, that Sims account got abandoned, which is why all of my likes come from a different Tumblr.

3- How did you pick your blog name?

I had three criteria -- it needed to be (1) somewhat punny, (2) dramatic and angsty, and (3) tangentially related to the game. Though I was a Royal Romance stan, I wanted to give myself room for growth, so I didn’t name my account anything to do with the book. The name I really wanted was taken, so I settled for AlwaysMyChoices. But honestly, I love it now.

4- Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!

My first post is expressing my disappointment that the Royal Romance’s Book 2 wasn’t angsty enough -- and that perfectly sums up my account. Four days later, I posted my first Choices fanfic.

5- How long have you been writing fanfiction?

13 years. I started writing in 2010 on Fanfiction.net for Percy Jackson. I was very, very young, and it shows in those initial works -- which is pretty ironic because this was the phase in my fanfiction career where I had the most success. I got millions of views on some of those stories, and they’re objectively terrible. After about six or seven years on that website, I went to college and ended up taking a hiatus. I wasn’t inspired to write anymore, which was pretty devastating at the time. Finding Choices brought back my passion for writing fanfiction.

6- What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to write about?

Here’s the thing -- I love Open Heart, but The Royal Romance has to be the best. Are there flaws? Definitely. Did the series go off the rails? Eventually, yes. But TRR understood pining. It knew that the readers wanted tender moments with LIs, but they also wanted pain. We wanted tropes, but we didn’t want it to feel tired. We wanted incredible supporting cast members where even the tiniest background player was well-crafted and interesting (and the villain was iconic). We wanted growth and well-structured arcs, and surprising twists. Plus, the LIs checked all the boxes -- the prince bound by duty, the lover’s best friend, the supportive friend turned lover and the woman who had been through pain but always saw the best in people. I wish I could go back and relive that magic.

At the time, I loved writing about TRR, too, but I’ll admit that Ethan Ramsey was made for angsty fanfiction.

7- Share the first fanfic you wrote with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were writing it today?

My first fanfic for Choices was “Come to Bed.” This was when I still wrote in the first person, which feels like a lifetime ago. As for my thoughts, it’s fine. I wouldn’t do anything differently, but I also probably wouldn’t publish it. When it comes to my Choices fics, my biggest complaint is that they’re often too tied to a moment. I wrote them because I read a chapter in whatever book, felt overcome with emotion and inspiration, and put that into my word processor. They’re my reactions more than a story, and aside from a few angsty quotes or steamy scenes, I generally forget about them when the moment passes.

To be honest, I totally forgot about “Come to Bed.” I thought my first story was “Prove it,” a much steamier TRR story.

8- What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

A Weekend with Dr. Ramsey is my legacy in this fandom, and I’m happy with that. I’m proud of that series. But if it had to be a single fic, it’s either “Him” or “Never Had a Chance.” Both are pairings I don’t often write (Ethan x Tobias and MC x Drake, respectively), and both stories focus on these grand, explosive loves that burn up too quickly but eventually settle into comfortable, platonic admiration. It’s the kind of love that lingers long after the romance has died.

9- Do you have a fic that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to be but found could use a little more love?

I never expected my Ethan & F!MC "Calling to Say I’m Marrying Someone Else” headcanon to blow up. That was such a pleasant surprise, and I love it to this day. As this fandom has dwindled, engagement naturally decreased, but I have to admit I hoped for a bit more love on “You’re a Devil.” Sexy pining at a Halloween party? The color red symbolizes danger and decadence they can’t accept? I still think it’s great.

10- If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

Angst. I love reading fluff and smut, but I’m really in the zone when I’m writing angst. For me, that’s when characters become something bigger than an idea -- they’re growth and change and cathartic and tragic and triumphant. If I never wrote angst again, I don’t know how I’d ever find that feeling anywhere else.

11- Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

Oh yeah. My MCs are generally versions of me with some exaggerated character flaws -- pride for Collins, indecision, and stubbornness for Charlie. I’m not as messy as my MCs, but at my core, I think I want to be.

12- What element of writing do you struggle with most?

Consistency. My issue has always been finding that inspiration and holding on to it. I’m very dependent on the “flow” of writing. When I’m in it, everything is easy -- the dialogue is effortless, the descriptions are perfect, and the pacing is impeccable. When I’m not in it, I’ll write the same thing over and over until I give up. I have a bad habit of letting inspiration come in all-consuming waves without any safety net of pacing or discipline. If I burn out or get distracted, it’s all over.

Oh, and length. Those stories are always way too long.

13- Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

Omg, yes, all of it. I need to finish With and Without, but I know I’ll be devastated when I do. Then, there are the dozens of notes on my phone, reminding me of all these new stories I’ve abandoned.

14- If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to read your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you recommend they read first?

I am super weird about keeping my fanfic life separate from my real life. It is a barrier I very rarely break, but when I have broken it, I’ve run into the same problems -- because it’s fanfiction, I give no exposition. So, if you’re reading it without any fandom knowledge, you’re lost. With that in mind, I think I would give them a quick recap and then give them “A Weekend with Dr. Ramsey.” It would kill me to be that vulnerable, but I think it’s the best reflection of this account.

15 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing?

So many! Particularly in the fandom, I’ve learned from so many creators. Early on, I remember @boneandfur and @heauxplesslydevoted were such big TRR influences for me. So many amazing creators have deactivated -- even someone who taught me my entire bullet point format for HCs. Now, I’d say I’m pretty inspired by @jerzwriter, @terrm9, @utterlyinevitable, @the-pale-goddess, @mvalentine, and @queenbirbs. I’m definitely forgetting so many amazing people!

16- Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series?

I would love to see A Weekend With Dr. Ramsey adapted into a mini-series with a devastating ending.

17- Do you write original fiction?

Yes, but not as often as I wish. Fanfiction has always been easier for me because I have somewhere to share it. Without that, I find I end up losing steam and forgetting about it. I do, however, have a phone full of story ideas, and one day, I’m determined to do them justice.

18 - What other hobbies do you have?

I am a big reader, an occasional bullet journaler, a dog lover, a movie buff, and a fan of British mystery shows.

19 - What’s your favorite emoji?

The eyes emoji 👀It’s one of those amazing emojis that adds nuance to a text, and I use it way too often.

20: BONUS - tell us anything you’d like (if you want to).

____ I am truly so grateful to be part of this fandom. I know I’m not good at being in the fandom -- I disappear, I suck at answering, etc. But I truly love this group and am so happy to be part of it.

#choices fic writers creations #cfwc writer of the month #playchoices #choices the stories you play #writer of the month #alwaysmychoices #july 2023 #choices fanfic #playchoices fanfic

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