#luck of the draw

[aventurine-ipc-gambler]

*Veritas walks around in front of Aventurine's room for a while. He was away only for a day and he was already missing the blonde, but he was nervous too. Only after a while, he decides to enter the room. He doesn't have any excuse to explain his visit this time.*

"Kakavasha..?"

@veritas-ratio-rp

[Aventurine was lying on the couch, a thin shirt and shorts on, seemingly asleep.]

#coin flip #luck of the draw

[fellowshipofthefics]

Are you feeling lucky today? Let's put it to the test.

Roll a D20 and see what you get! Want to test your luck further? Roll again on the second collum, and if you really want to test the strength of your luck, roll again on the third collum. Combine what you get into a sorted tale, and don't forget to include the #fotfics!

🍀(Need a D20 to roll? Find one here)🍀

#the hobbit #the silmarillion #lord of the rings #fotfics #fotfics march event #luck of the draw #writing event

[erathene]

Unguarded

100 word drabble written for @fellowshipofthefics 'Luck of the Draw' March 2024 writing challenge. For this one I got 12 ("I don't need a gentleman right now.") and 14 ("Strength").

I have read some incredible Boromir AUs recently with strong female characters; specifically The Unravelling of Hard Words by @eternal-vambraces and Fuck the Forbidden by @entishramblings, they honestly made me look at him differently so guess I'm a Boromir simp now thanks guys. I haven't ever written anything for Boromir so decided to use this prompt for him!

Warnings: Description of battle, Boromir x Female!Reader pairing.

......................

"I don't need a gentleman right now!"

Two Uruks are annihilated by your blade in quick succession as you speak, the words woven with bitterness and ferocity. It's more than a demand to let you handle this yourself; it's resentment against societal norms dictating that a woman should be defended by a man.

Boromir knows this; he sees your scarred leather armour, toned physique and fearlessly unapologetic personality. He doesn't see a defenceless woman. He sees a warrior.

Broad shoulders press against your own, covering your back, sword and shield raised to fight.

"No," he concurs. "You need a friend."  

#fotfics #fotfics march event #luck of the draw #writing event #fanfiction #lotr fanfic #Boromir #Boromir x y/n #Boromir x you #Boromir x Reader

[lesbianangeldust]

ok besties! I have 2 options for chapter 2 of this fic! (if u haven't read it and ur a slut for some slow burn, angsty huskerdust, the link is right there for ya)

one big fat chapter with multiple scenes, including the resolution of issues that arise by the end of the chapter... but its gonna be meaty as hell and take twice as long to finish so you'll have to wait for it

splitting it into two chapters so I can post the first one sooner and potentially be less convoluted, but it'll be kind of a cliffhanger and the slow burn will be slower (also there will be a val scene in the second part which will cut it significantly shorter if you're wanting to avoid that section)

#huskerdust #my posts #angel dust #husk #hazbin hotel #hazbin fanfic #fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #luck of the draw

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Silvergifting - March

Written for my dear reader MoonLord :D (again)

Oh, this one is violent and dark. Please be advised!

Prompts: “Look at me! - Sacrifice - Sworn Enemy

Pairing: Annatar x Celebrimbor

Words: 1015

Warnings: blood, torture, sadness, fear, flaying, mutilation, manipulation, cruelty

“Tell me where they are!” Annatar enunciated, a frown forming on his luminous brow.

Something about Tyelpë’s face irked him, and it took a moment for him to understand that his former lover looked positively ugly.

Tired, injured, and visibly terrified, Celebrimbor was far from the suave smith and comely cub that had almost managed to capture Annatar’s petrified heart.

His skin was blotchy, and his eyes were bloodshot as he writhed, naked and sweating profusely, against the cold steel that held him.

In many shockingly dispassionate ways, he reminded his finally revealed enemy of the horses the Children rode into battle, and which ran themselves ragged before being “delivered” by a merciful blade.

For darling Tyelpë, there would, of course, be no such mercy before he’d not given up the secret he so stubbornly tried to withhold from one immeasurably more powerful and terrible than he could even imagine.

By nature and design, Annatar himself had no notion of ugliness—even his unchained anger and boundless hatred only gilded him and, if anything, made him even more unbearably, uncannily beautiful.

Indeed, the flush of ire in his cheeks and the flash of calculating disdain in his eyes only heightened his bewitching pulchritude, and this alone seemed to further distress his headstrong captive if his frantic squirming against unbreakable bonds was any indication.

No, the hideousness of rage and fear was something Annatar had learned and studied throughout the ages.

“Hey, look at me,” he purred, lifting Celebrimbor’s head—lolling feebly to and fro—by the deceivingly tender touch of a single finger. “Tell me where those silly, inconsequential rings you made, according to my design and thanks to my help, are, and I’ll let you go. We could even try to rekindle…”

His lips curled into a petulant moue of displeasure when Celebrimbor gave a raucous, brittle, distinctly derisive chuckle.

“Or not,” Annatar continued smoothly. “It doesn’t matter. Just tell me where you’ve taken them!”

The light—once so compellingly bright and pure—within the young Elf was failing fast now; already it seemed reduced to a single flickering point of defiance within his otherwise dull gaze, and Annatar gave a long, regretful sigh.

“I’ve known your great-grandfather,” he said with an impish smirk. “And your grandfather…and Fëanáro, of course.”

As he spoke, Annatar let his long, slender fingers touch the steel construction onto which he had affixed Celebrimbor’s painfully stretched-out limbs. In honour and mockery of his heritage, Annatar—who had once been Mairon, The Admirable—had returned to his own roots and had handcrafted a beautiful eight-pointed star such as the boy’s grandfather had elected as his sigil.

A muted grunt that Annatar could not quite interpret escaped his captive at that.

“Let it sink in,” Annatar purred. “Understand who and what I am—what I’ve seen, what I’ve done, what terrible and wonderful power I wield!”

Even if the incarnates, quick to forget the lessons their ancestors had carved out of history by blood and suffering, seemingly invariably swallowed his disguise line, hook, and sinker, Annatar remembered everything.

“There is fire in your blood,” he whispered fervently. “It has been kindled within your line long before you were even a distant dream.”

Pressing his lips against Celebrimbor’s sweat-sheened temple, Annatar let some of that life-giving heat he’d carried within himself since before Arda had been created flow into the other’s fading being.

“I can keep you alive.” It was a promise. It was a threat. “I know what you need, and I shall give it to you while stripping you of everything else.”

Again, Celebrimbor merely moaned before clamping his pale, bloodless lips shut.

“As you wish…”

With deliberate, teasing precision, Annatar chose a sharp blade from his collection and made the first cut.

“I’ve perfected this technique on your uncle,” he explained cheerily as he splayed a warm, soothing hand against the concave, trembling stomach of his doomed paramour. “He was also such a sacrificial fool.”

As he meticulously severed ligaments and detached muscles, Annatar let his supreme energy flow in a steady, sustaining stream into Celebrimbor’s agonised body.

“He wouldn’t give up his secrets either,” he muttered, still peeved at the recollection of Maedhros’s laughable obstinacy. “Much good it did him.”

“He lived.”

“Not for long.”

Celebrimbor, even as he was divested of his pristine skin piece by piece, had the nerve to utter another guffaw that echoed like a scream through the empty chamber.

“You know nothing about time,” he ground out. “And you shall never learn where the rings are.”

“You’ll die a terrible death,” Annatar prophesied darkly.

The almost pitying gaze the moribund Elf gave him made the unveiled Maia bare his teeth in frustration.

“And I thought you knew my family,” Celebrimbor hissed. “As ever, you overestimate yourself. I am undaunted.”

For a while, Annatar continued his gruesome work in sullen silence. He kept that flayed grotesquery of his own making suspended on the very edge of death as he peeled back the layers of his beloved Tyelpë to reveal his sworn enemy.

That last insult had hit him harder and wounded his pride deeper than he’d anticipated, especially seeing the unequivocal power dynamic in which they presently found themselves.

Despite his instinctive reluctance, Annatar searched his near-perfect memory for hints and clues.

There were many things for which these pesky incarnates would die gladly, and he couldn’t decide which one was at stake presently.

Could it be a home Celebrimbor had never really had since leaving the Blessed Realm?

The idea of another lover was so outrageous that Annatar discarded it instantly—it was inconceivable to him that any other being, no matter how handsome or kind, might have eclipsed him in Tyelpë’s affections.

Family. The certainty hit the malicious Maia like his former Master’s icy breath—if there was one thing that turned even the most loquacious of Elves into unmoving stone, it surely was the safety and happiness of their kin.

“They’re all dead,” he spat distractedly.

“Well,” Celebrimbor breathed faintly. “Then the rings are lost, and you shall never retrieve them!”

-> Masterlist

Lots of love from me!

@fellowshipofthefics Here's a really dark one one!

#og post #Fanfiction #writing #IDNMT writes #jrrt #Tolkien fanfiction #Luck of the Draw #March event #FOTFICS March 2024 #Silvergifting #Annatar #Celebrimbor #Annatar x Celebrimbor #Hey look at me #Sacrifice #Sworn enemies #For MoonLord #dark #cw: blood #cw: torture #cw: physical violence

[mercurygray]

I started Frank Murphy's Luck of the Draw this week after a copy came in at the library, and I have to say I am enjoying it every bit as much as Harry Crosby's memoir.

They're very different writers with different styles - Crosby's book is very much a memoir, his own recollections of what happened, whereas Murphy's book is both memoir and history - he did extensive research to fill in some gaps in his own memory and knowledge to fill out and form a more complete picture of what was going on in the wider war. (I never get the sense that he's making anything up, though. He's pretty clear with his 'I don't remember this, but someone else said...') And while he's not a very big character in the show, I appreciate that nearly every time Frank is on screen, he's writing. (Usually a letter to his mom. They wrote nearly every day.)

His book also has extensive lists of everyone's planes and the missions they went on (information that is also available on the 100BG website) which is just as entertaining as it is informative. I just might have to buy this one.

#masters of the air #frank murphy #luck of the draw #i'm gonna rec it

[twinkleallnight]

IF ONLY..

Book: The Royal Romance

Characters: Queen Eleanor and Prince Liam

Form: Fan-art

Rating: General

A/N: For @moodmusicmonday Luck of the Draw! My inspo song was Hollow as a Bone by Cowboy Junkies. You may say i am killing two birds with one stone. 🙈 I am also submitting this for Day 4 : Family/Childhood for @kingliamappreciationweek .

The lyrics of this song made me think of little Liam:

He could not help but hang his eyes

her beauty held him so

If this was not a state of Grace

then Grace he'd never know

And then came to my mind, the battle Queen Eleanor was fighting alone towards the end

She hugged his head so hard to her heart

it made her gasp for air

If this was not the way Love felt

then for love she did not care

I want to run beside a moving train

yelling farewells in the rain

The tears will be bittersweet,

'cause I know I'll see him again

If I lost you now,

I would feel as hollow as a bone

The pain she must be going through

The worries engulfing her

Hope you all like it.

Tags: @3pawandme @alj4890 @angelasscribbles @bascmve01 @bebepac @busywoman @dcbbw @harleybeaumont @iaminlovewithtrr @karahalloway @kingliam2019 @lizzybeth1986 @lovingchoices14 @nestledonthaveone @neotericthemis @mom2000aggie @phoenixrising0308 @princess-geek @sazanes @secretaryunpaid @sfb123 @sillydg @tessa-liam @tinkie1973 @txemrn @walkerdrakewalker @rubiwalker @likealotus @marietrinmimi @juan-francisco-palencia

#luck of the draw #kingliamappreciationweek #klaw day 4 #liam rys #liam rhys #pixelberry #the royal romance #trr fandom #trr #choices fanart

[dcbbw]

The Commoner’s Wife--Chapter 6: Three Blind Mice

It has been one long, hot-ass hour since I have updated this series (Chapter 5 was posted 8/4/2019), but it’s back. This is not a drill, not a one-off while I fart around with a kajillion other stories. Chapter 6 is FINALLY here, and there are so many people to thank:

@moodmusicmonday and their annual #Luck of the Draw event; the song I was assigned, Just Say When by Nothing More, spawned so many story ideas but Commoner’s Wife kept popping up the more I listened to the lyrics.

@sfb123 for her patience with me and my erratic schedules

My WhatsApp crew for their (loving) hounding, harassment, and encouragement

My hand-holding crew: @ao719, @bebepac, @angelasscribbles, and @umccall71

So, what happens now that Drake unequivocally knows the truth? Buckle up and find out!

THANK YOU to all who will read this story; if you are new to the hot mess that is TCW, you can catch up on this “one-shot” here. Please excuse any and all typos, missing/extraneous words, and/or grammatical errors.

MS Editor rates this fic as 99% error-free.

It has been soooo long since the last chapter, I have no idea who, if any, of the original story fans are around, and if they are even still interested if they are. Using my current tag list and encouraging you to tell a friend.

Rating M for Mature (adult themes, cursing)

Pairings: Liam x Riley; Riley x Drake

Book: TRR/TRH

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Song Inspiration: Just Say When, Nothing More

Word Count: 6,336

Highlights from Chapter 5:

Drake x Riley

“Just tell me, Brooks. Is our marriage a thank you to me or a fuck you to Liam?”

A deep sigh. A shaky voice. “Both.”

“We need to talk, Drake. I know…. I know I’ve been difficult and closed off, but I’m ready to talk.”

Drake was rummaging in the cupboard for the bottle of liquor. I know you aren’t being completely honest. I also know Liam isn’t either. What I don’t know is….is it out of fear of hurting me, if you think you’re that smart, or if you don’t have answers yourselves.

“I can’t deal anymore with half assed answers, Brooks. I can’t deal with the thought of being in a marriage based on pity or revenge. I just … can’t deal anymore.”

Princess Marguerite

Once she had Gunner out of his outfit, she ran her hands over the latex suit. The feel of the material sparked curiosity and lust within her, and she felt herself becoming wet. I have to see it.

“Do you have any medical or sensory issues?” She was now at the library desk, opening the top drawer; earlier in the day, she had placed an extremely long, extremely wide dildo and a remote control there.

Marguerite sighed as she pushed herself away from her desk. It was time to make yet another trip to Cordonia. She wouldn’t inform anyone about it; Liam couldn’t ignore her if she was standing in front of him.

Liam x Riley

Liam heard the knock on the door but ignored it. He had Riley so close to the edge; he was closer. Besides, the door was locked. Except it wasn’t.

Riley’s moans and low screams filled his ears. Stars exploded behind his eyes as he followed her over the edge. His seed spilled into her. His forehead rested against hers as the real world slowly came back into focus.

And the first thing he heard was Drake’s voice roaring obscenities, followed by a tearful gasp. But not from Riley. Marguerite.

Liam closed his eyes and bit his lip as he slipped out of Riley. Time had run out.  

Chapter 6:

Presently, in the study

The room held both an electricity that crackled with tension and a stillness; as if the very air had been sucked from it, leaving the occupants in a vacuum devoid of everything but harsh emotions.

Liam

Liam’s forehead pressed against Riley’s, his breathing heavy and uneven. His eyes were closed, the last of the bursting stars behind his eyes fading into black. He inhaled deeply; he smelt the flora and fruit of expensive fragrance, and a slight musk from the sheen of perspiration on Riley’s skin. As he slipped out of her entry, he felt her arms tighten around him as her legs slid off his back.

His arms tightened around her in return as the world came back into focus. He heard Drake yelling What the fuck? and I KNEW it! He heard Marguerite’s gasp, but nothing else from her. Perhaps Drake’s thundering baritone was drowning everything else out.

Except the incredible remorse Liam felt.

Drake deserved better than to find out this way. Hell, they all deserved better.

What the bejesus just happened? Drake was supposed to be at the cabin today and returning to Valtoria tomorrow. And Princess Marguerite … why was she even in Cordonia?

Drake

When Drake opened the study door, he was stunned. He stumbled backwards a few steps, feeling an almost-physical sucker punch at the sight of Liam’s naked ass, and the sounds of the King … his best friend … fucking.

Fucking Drake’s wife.

He wanted to cover his ears to muffle Riley’s moans as her back arched her off the sofa. He wanted to close his eyes so he wouldn’t see the convulsions as his wife’s body entered le petite mort.

Looks, sounds, actions that were supposed to be reserved for Drake because he and Riley had vowed to forsake all others.

He wanted … no, needed to hit something, but instead settled for screaming his disbelief as his fists clenched and unclenched.

This was beyond anger, beyond hurt. His vision was clouded and blurred, as if someone had painted the room and all its occupants red. Yet, for all his fury, there was a tiny piece of him that was not surprised. That wondered why it took any of them so long to speak the truth they all shared.

Drake knew it was not yet even 10am, but a strong drink was absolutely essential. He needed to numb himself. He needed to stem the tide of answers flooding his brain. As he swiftly strode past the sofa, he wanted to avert his gaze away from the irrefutable proof of the betrayal committed by his wife and best friend.

But he couldn’t.  

When he saw Riley tighten her hold on Liam’s nude body, pain pierced Drake’s heart despite the weight of his anger.

She’s clinging to him. She doesn’t care that I’m here, that she’s caught in all of her lies. She doesn’t care that she is filling the hole in my heart with salt.

Tears stung the corners of his eyes as he shook his head in sorrow and disgust.

She just does not care.

GO TO HELL, Riley Brooks!

Riley

Riley was cresting the wave of her orgasm when she heard Drake’s voice boom throughout the room.

OH MY GOD! What is he doing here?

She wanted to stop her body from responding to Liam’s touch, Liam’s tongue, Liam’s cock … but she was too far gone. Liam was as well. She closed her eyes tightly as she felt the trembles of Liam’s body through the shaking of her own before Liam slipped from inside of her.

Maybe if I can’t see Drake, he can’t see me.

Riley felt waves of guilt and shame wash over her, and as her erratic breathing tried to slow down, she instinctively pulled Liam closer to her. She needed his protection, his validation that she wasn’t an adulteress whore. Her breathing eased when Liam responded by tightening his hold on her, but she couldn’t wipe away the tears falling from her eyes.

The Duchess of Valtoria had no idea what to do. Hell, what could she do? She lay naked and sated in the arms of her lover, while her husband watched. She wanted to get dressed; clothing would make her less vulnerable, but her frock was scattered somewhere on the floor.

She had heard a woman gasp and was curious who the person was. A Lady of Court? A staff member?

In either case, Riley needed all the advantages she could get, and right now she had none. She heard Drake’s heavy thuds as he moved past them; she bit Liam’s shoulder to keep her sobs inside.

I never wanted you to find out this way, Drake. I swear it. I know you don’t believe me, but I do have love for you. I do want your happiness. I always have. It’s just my love for Liam is stronger and … and I think he may be my happiness.

Marguerite

Marguerite stood in the study’s doorway, her wide eyes darting everywhere. The gasp had come out so suddenly, she couldn’t stop it. She managed to cut it off because the laughter that was following it was highly inappropriate at best. It was obvious Liam’s partner was the Duchess of Valtoria, Drake Walker’s wife.

Dear God, could this King get any more cliché?

The gasp came out sounding tearful, which worked in her favor. Her eyes continued to take in the scene.

There was Liam with his naked ass on display for all to see. The Princess knew firsthand that it was firm and muscled; what she didn’t know was how … chiseled it was. Her lips lifted in a small smirk as she imagined pushing a dildo up his puckered hole, perhaps flogging his cheeks if he chose to be insubordinate.

What the Princess of Monaco wanted to do was make her way to Liam’s desk to sit in his oversized chair and slide her hand down the waistband of her skirt. She exhaled a low sigh as she imagined her fingertips stroking her clit.

Instead, she drew closer to the naked couple, marveling at how they clung to each other.

Desperately.  

Her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of the side of a brown breast and chocolate nipple pressed against the pinkish white of Liam’s chest.

I wonder if I can convince her to flash me.

Marguerite mentally shook her head.

Back to the matter at hand. This can play in your favor so well.

Everyone was jolted from their inner thoughts when Drake angrily tossed Riley’s dress at her; it landed on Liam’s back.

“PUT YOUR FUCKING CLOTHES ON!” he thundered before crossing the doorway and slamming the door heavily behind him.

With a last lingering look at the disgraced lovers, Marguerite ran after Drake.

She hadn’t had angry sex in the longest time, and this Drake Walker person may be up for a revenge fuck.

After they heard what Liam and Riley had to say.

Group Chat

By unspoken agreement, the quartet were gathered in the West Wing’s library. No one was speaking.

Liam sat behind the desk, his elbows on the polished wood and his hands steepled beneath his chin.

Riley sat ramrod straight in a ladderback chair which was angled in a corner between the desk and an oxblood-colored leather sofa. She kept her head turned away from the others, causing the sunlight pouring through the window to cast her profile in a half-shadow.

Drake sat in an armchair across from the desk; his eyes were fixed on the bottle of French cognac he held in one hand. He wondered how much he would have to drink to erase this morning from his memory.

Marguerite was sipping a mimosa as she sat on the end of the sofa furthest from Riley, her well-rounded legs crossed at her ankles.

The Princess tilted her full glass towards Riley, her gaze locked on Liam. “Is she why you could neither accept nor return my phone call?”

Liam’s jaw tightened. “I was busy, Marguerite. I do run a country, you know. The better question is, why are you here in Cordonia?”

“I came to see why you were ignoring me.”

Drake choked as he swallowed straight from the bottle. “You came 800 miles to see why he didn’t answer your call?”

This chick is cuckoo.

An unfazed Marguerite sipped her drink. “Yes. He texted me yesterday proposing a second date; when I called him to suggest he visit Monaco, his assistant informed me that he would return my call at his earliest convenience. He never did. So, I decided to pop in, thinking we could discuss matters over breakfast; if I had known tart was on the menu, I would have arrived earlier.”

Liam’s eyes went to Riley; the Duchess stared at her hands which were loosely clasped in her lap. Her lips were thinned, and her jaw slightly tensed.

They both looked up at hearing a heavy thud against the Persian carpeting.

Drake rose so suddenly and violently out of his chair, it had toppled over. The bottle of expensive brandy lay on its side, amber-colored liquid spilling as it spread across and stained the priceless rug.

“SHE IS STILL MY WIFE!” he hollered, his cheeks darkening with rage.

“Who’s fucking the King right under your nose,” Marguerite snapped. “She may have had the good sense to know her place and wed a fellow commoner, but the fact remains she’s a disloyal harlot and unworthy of anyone’s devotion.”

I’d still suck her tits was the unspoken portion of her statement.

Liam looked between Drake and Marguerite, choosing his words carefully. The entire room was already a powder keg; the Princess was a loose match. A lit loose match.

“I appreciate your obvious…. attraction to me, Your Highness, but my heart and affections have been claimed by another.”

“You mean your best friend’s wife? Listen to me, Your Majesty….no royal or noble worth their salt will accept a divorced commoner as Queen. Your court will be the laughingstock of Europe and you…. you’ll be the biggest scandal since King Edward VIII. At least he was lucky enough to choose love over Crown, but you don’t have that luxury, do you? Your brother beat you to it.”

“What I do with my personal life, especially when it takes place in Cordonia, is no one’s business but mine.”

“Even when it involves fucking other men’s wives?” Marguerite arched an eyebrow.

“If you wish our countries to remain in good standing, you will stop talking,” Liam growled.

The Princess lowered her eyebrow when Liam’s eyes narrowed dangerously. This was not working well in her favor. She still needed to make an advantageous match; despite being obviously pussy-whipped, Liam was the best of the lot. When she spoke again, her tone was more conciliatory.

“Darling, I’m offering you not only a union, but an alliance … a chance to rule over two countries, not just one. I don’t require what others would; I have my own coffers, my own lands, and my social station is secured.

“We don’t need to be in love and arrangements can be put in place, but only one of us can be scandalous; I’ve already claimed dibs on that.”

The Princess smiled brightly before downing the remainder of her beverage. She looked around the room before setting the champagne flute on the table in front of her and gathering her purse.

“I’m sure the three of you have much to discuss; I’ll see myself out,” she spoke to everyone and no one.

She began rummaging inside her bag, murmuring to Liam that he could email her a non-disclosure agreement. “As juicy as this morning has been, I wouldn’t tell anyone; however, I understand the need for assurance.”

Marguerite rose, a plastic keycard between her fingers which she offered to Drake.

“Retaliation fucks can be most satisfying. I have a standing room at the Savoy Five Kingdoms. They have an excellent bar and even better room service. Drop by anytime today; I fly out in the morning.”

Riley’s face twisted with anger; this brazen hussy was coming on to Riley’s husband IN HER FACE, yet the Duchess was the harlot. Her eyes held a flicker of fear; what if Drake accepted?

Why did she still care if he did?

Liam’s head fell into his open palms. Marguerite was the mistake that kept giving. With one breath she was proposing to Liam; with the next, she was propositioning Drake. The irony of her actions versus what he and Riley had done to Drake was not lost on the King.

Drake stared blankly at the key before raising his eyes to the future monarch of Monaco.

Is she flippin’ serious right now?

“Fuck you,” he spat.

Marguerite looked baffled as she tucked the key into his jacket’s breast pocket.

“That’s the entire purpose, darling.”

Detour

Marguerite stepped swiftly down the immense hallway, her cellphone pressed to her ear as she and the guard Liam had assigned to accompany her off the property studiously ignored each other.  She huffed impatiently as she heard the number she had dialed ring for a third time.

The Princess was most definitely going to tell someone about her fiasco of a morning; if details about a certain Cordonian King were revealed, so be it. There was no nondisclosure agreement in place yet.

“Ullo?” a woman’s husky, sleep-filled voice greeted Marguerite just as she heard heavy, dragging footsteps make their way up the marble stairs of the main west wing staircase.

“Cecily! Why in God’s name are you still sleeping?” Marguerite demanded incredulously.

“Because I haven’t had a drink or a drug in two days, and it’s 5am where I am.”

“Well, you need a sip, a sniff, and a new time zone, darling.”

“Why are you calling me? Good gossip?” Cecily asked in a voice filled with annoyance and nosiness.

“I’m in Cordonia, that dreadful teeny tiny country in the Mediterranean and my morning … is about to get better. Call you back.”

Marguerite slowly removed her phone from her ear while her eyes took in the sight before her.

Leo Rys, the prodigal firstborn son, stood in front of her, peering at Marguerite through bloodshot eyes. His blondish-brown curls were tousled, his impressive chest and abs on display thanks to his unbuttoned dress shirt which was half-tucked into a pair of navy-blue pants. His belt hung from his neck; his tie was partly stuffed into a front pocket.

“Marguerite?” he questioned in a disbelieving tone.

The former Prince and the Princess had a history of random encounters that were exotic, erotic, and always with Leo needing a chiropractor afterwards.

“LEO!” Marguerite sauntered up to Liam’s brother, planting an open-mouthed kiss on his lips.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked disbelievingly as he rubbed the back of one hand across his bleary eyes; the other gripped her firm ass.

“I could ask you the same,” she countered.

“I’m here for a scotch and some shuteye before heading to your corner of the world later this afternoon, but my plans could be flexible,” Leo smirked.

“Flexible is my favorite word. Lead the way,” Marguerite instructed as she looped her arm through Leo’s.

Three Blind Mice

While Marguerite pulled the massive door shut behind her, Drake leant over in his chair to retrieve the dropped bottle of brandy. Riley stood to open the terrace doors to help rid the room of the sweet, oaky smell permeating the room.

A fresh breeze drifted into the library, ruffling her hair and riffling the loose papers on Liam’s desk. Her heels tapped sharply against the blonde hardwood as she returned to her seat. Her eyes darted between her husband and her lover.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “Thank you both.”

“Don’t speak to me. You no longer have the RIGHT to speak to me!” Drake growled as he tilted the half-full bottle to his lips.

Liam rose from his seat, and stepped around the desk; the monarch threw Drake a reproving look as he continued to the bar cart.

“There is no need to speak to the Duchess in such a tone, Your Grace.”

Drake rolled his eyes. “You need to shut the fuck up, Your Majesty.”

Liam’s body tensed at the words, and he stilled his movements for the briefest of moments. “I understand your disappointment and frustration,” he replied in a controlled tone.

“DO YOU?” The question exploded from Drake, causing Riley to jump slightly at the harshness in his voice. “Obviously you don’t, judging by your choice of words! Because this is so much more than disappointment. THIS is undiluted heartbreak! THAT woman,” Drake pointed to Riley, “was my sum total of EVERYTHING!”

His shoulders slumped as ragged sobs tore from his throat. His fingers brushed away the stream of tears streaking his cheeks. Riley’s mouth fell open and she rushed to Drake’s side. He held his hand up to stop her.

“Don’t,” he pleaded in a broken voice.

Riley shook her head in either defeat or denial; none of the trio knew.

“I’m so sorry. So, so sorry. I didn’t mean …”

“For me to find out or to get caught?” Drake finished for her.

“Drake, she’s attempting to apologize. Can you at least hear her out?” Liam entreated as he added ginger ale to one of the two tumblers of scotch he had poured.

The bottle of brandy shattered against the wall closest to Liam. The monarch continued to prepare drinks, seemingly unperturbed.

“NO! NO, I CANNOT HEAR HER OUT! Do you know when I wanted to hear her out? When I was willing to listen to BOTH of you? WHEN I WAS ASKING ABOUT MY MARRIAGE! And you both LIED TO ME! TO.MY.FACE!”

“It wasn’t supposed to go on as long it did,” Riley explained, her voice trembling. “It was only supposed to be until Liam found a Queen.”

Drake looked disbelievingly between his wife and best friend. “So, the King here is supposed to date and get to know someone intimately … to the point of making her his wife and this country’s Queen … by fucking his best friend’s wife?”

Liam stood beside Riley, pressing the scotch and soda in her hand. She glanced at him gratefully as she took a steadying swallow of the liquid courage.

“Your emotions are directed at the wrong person, Drake. I asked her to be my lover. I … I am in love with her, and I simply could not move forward in that aspect of my life knowing Riley was right there.” Liam’s gaze took in Riley, who was staring ashamedly at Drake.

“You couldn’t tell me? We’ve been lifelong friends, and you couldn’t tell me you were in love with my wife?”

“I wanted to tell you, but Riley wished to spare your feelings for what was supposed to be a brief fling. I have neither excuse nor explanation for my lack of actions. I was … I am a coward and a cad.” His blue eyes held Drake’s wrath-filled gaze. “And I regret nothing.”

Drake’s gaze shifted to Riley. “I begged you, I asked you, I damn near got on my knees to get you to talk to me! WHY DIDN’T YOU?”

Riley stared at the floor, a helpless expression on her face. “I’m still in love with him, Drake.”

“I TOLD YOU; you didn’t HAVE TO MARRY ME! But NOOOOO … YOU insisted!”

“YOU KNEW! YOU FUCKING KNEW and married me anyway!” Riley flung back.

“Because you lied to me. YOU lied to ME about everything!  Hell yes, I had doubts but I chose to believe the words coming out of YOUR mouth! And somehow, this makes it all my fault?”

Drake took a step towards Riley; Liam moved swiftly and protectively in front of her.

The Duke let out a derisive snort. “Oh, this is FUCKING RICH! The caught lovers putting on a united front. Before the husband no less, who so happens to be the injured party here.”

His eyes fell on Liam. “When she was trash-talking your ass, I DEFENDED YOU! I told her she needed to give you a chance, that you were in love with her. AND SHE STILL ASKED ME TO MARRY HER!”

Dark chocolate eyes went to Riley. “Just tell me this, if there were no Liam … could you have loved me the way I needed you to?”

Hesitation before the Duchess nodded.

Silence as no one looked at the other and Drake paced the room.

“Marguerite said Liam reached out to her yesterday, but he never followed up. Riley, you called me at the cabin, saying you wanted to talk.”

Riley nodded in agreement. “Yes. I called to make sure you weren’t injured or ill, and to find out when you were coming home so I could tell you about the affair and that I wanted to end the marriage.”

“The question becomes: where were you when you called me? Were you in Valtoria or here at the Palace? Because as batshit crazy as that Princess is, she wouldn’t fly 800 miles UNANNOUNCED for absolutely nothing. There’s a reason she feels comfortable enough to show up without notice, and there’s a reason Liam put her off.”

“I asked Riley to join me here. She arrived after she spoke to you,” Liam answered as he refilled his glass.

“And you knew she was going to ask for a divorce.” It was a statement.

Liam nodded stiffly. “She has discussed it with me on several occasions but nothing ever came to fruition.”

A flash of pain crossed Drake’s features at the revelation. “So last night was a celebration of sorts.”

Silence. Neither Liam nor Riley could tell Drake that their time together was about them, and that he was merely a guilty afterthought.

“How did you meet Marguerite?” Riley asked curiously, her voice small.

“I wasn’t cheating on you with her, if that’s what you’re asking. We met coming into the Palace this morning. I was going to seek Liam’s advice and counsel before returning to Valtoria.” Drake shook his head as his palms ran down his face. “I definitely got more than I bargained for.”

Liam’s brain churned as thoughts tumbled about:

Riley was being truthful with her husband, but there wasn’t enough … conviction behind it. She was, in this moment, a naughty child who had been caught, telling the truth to avoid discipline or punishment.

Liam knew Drake wanted to make his marriage work, but he hadn’t realized just how deeply his friend was in love with Riley; his guilt intensified. He still regretted nothing that had transpired, but Riley had left Liam of her own volition; she had taken up with Drake with no outside influence.

It was because of Liam she was willing to destroy Drake. She said it herself.

The King cleared his throat before putting distance between him and the Duchess. Riley looked at him curiously, but he was staring at Drake.

“I realize the role I play in this and am beginning to understand the depth of your pain. It is obvious that I am the obstacle preventing you two from having a happily ever after. Drake, I will stand aside and leave Duchess Riley alone if you two wish to salvage your marriage.”

“WHAT?” Riley screeched.

He can’t do this to me again!

Drake stared at his old friend before bursting into hysterical laughter. “NOW you want to step aside? Now that the damage is done? Dude, THAT is a coward move!”

“LIAM, what are you DOING?” Riley began punching his arm.

“Let me help the two of you out right here,” Drake said as he advanced on Riley.

He held his hand out, palm up. “Give me back my ring,” he ordered in a tone that brooked no argument.

Riley’s nonplussed gaze snapped towards Drake. “WHAT? NOOOO! It’s my WEDDING ring, Drake!”

“It’s my grandmother’s ring. Meant for my wife, not the woman who’s fucking around and has TOLD ME she wants to end our marriage. I’m doing you a favor.”

“NO!” Riley replied stubbornly.

Liam watched the couple, a stoic expression on his face. Riley’s reaction confirmed he had made the right decision, as painful as it was.

“Return it willingly, or I’ll snatch it off your finger,” Drake threatened through narrowed eyes.

“There’s no need for this behavior, Drake,” Liam stated, attempting to de-escalate an out-of-control situation. “Riley, if you are being honest about your feelings for me and a future for us, return Drake’s ring.”

Riley shrank away from both men. She felt emotionally attacked.

“There was no need for ANY of this shit, but here we are,” Drake countered, his eyes still trained on Riley. “My ring,” he repeated.

When the Duke left the Palace five minutes later, he had his grandmother’s ring. His wife was sobbing and arguing with Liam. When he reached his truck, he unlocked the doors and slid behind the wheel, realizing he had nowhere to go.

Megs and Old Man Harold were at his cabin; Drake was not in a headspace to either entertain or explain.

Valtoria was out of the question.

Ramsford was a possibility, but again … his headspace.

His palm patted his jacket pocket where he had placed the ring, and felt the hotel key the Princess of Monaco had given him.

Drake pulled it out, staring at it thoughtfully before starting the truck, and pulling off.

Valtoria

Darkness had fallen; save for live-in staff, the Duchess was alone in the Great House. It was a blessing and a curse. After the events of the day, Riley needed the alone time; she needed to process the words, the actions, the accusations.

But her thoughts were too loud, the rooms too empty.

On the ride back to Valtoria, Riley was silent. She stared at her now-bare ring finger, finding it hard to swallow over the thick lump of tears lodged in her throat.

Her marriage was over.

The one man who had faced death for her, whose love wasn’t predicated upon duty and appearances and secrets had wrenched the symbol of their union from her finger.

Riley had wanted to fall in love with Drake; she thought she was in love with Drake. But Liam … their connection, their chemistry was so strong. It was as if he were a magnet, and she were metal.

But only in the shadows.

Her love affair was once again sinking under the quagmire of Liam’s nobility and guilt. The man who had been so willing to share her under a cloak of deception was once again kowtowing to doing the “right thing” just when they could finally be open with their love and relationship.

Now … NOW, Liam was willing to step aside if Drake and Riley decided to try and salvage their marriage.

How ironic that the one thing she admired most about Liam was also what she loathed the most.

Liam was a huge ass what-if whose love she couldn’t trust. She never could.

Liam was why she couldn’t leave Drake.

When the Duchess arrived home, she gathered her staff, explaining that the Duke was away for an indeterminate amount of time. Riley then dismissed all staff who lived off-site, telling them to return in three days’ time. Staff who resided at the Great House would be on-call as needed. She then retired to her chambers after requesting ingredients for dinner be brought from the pantry to her chambers.

Riley stood in her kitchen wearing nothing more than a white silk slip as she washed dishes. She had prepared curried lamb and vegetables, jasmine rice, sweet corn-on-the-cob, and a garden salad for the evening meal; it was one of Drake’s favorites minus the salad. It now sat in Tupperware containers in the refrigerator.

The Duchess did not partake of the meal; a bottle of Lythikan wine had been her supper.

She had cooked dinner thinking Drake would return, if only to pack his things. But there had been no visitors, no phone calls. The woman who not 12 hours earlier had a husband and a lover, had no one.

Tonight was the beginning of their end.

The Duchess placed the last pot in the drying rack before she wiped down the countertops and swept the floor. She extinguished the kitchen light, grabbed her silent phone, and wandered through the quarters turning off lights as she went.

Despite feeling no overt effects from the potent libation, Riley’s steps held the slightest hint of unsteadiness.

The great room, where her fingertips ran along the grosgrain black leather recliner that Drake liked to sit in. His buffalo plaid blanket was neatly folded and draped along the back of the furniture. His gaming console where he and his nephew Bartie played Minecraft and Mario Brothers on weekends. The bearskin rug he insisted on placing in front of the fireplace.

Riley bit her lower lip as she turned the lamp switch off, plunging the room into shadow.

She passed through the informal dining area where a vintage hutch took prominence; it was filled with his mother’s china and a few figurines and knick-knacks bequeathed by his grandmother. A stereo system complete with a record player sat in a corner. Riley leaned down, peering at the vinyl record protected beneath a glass covering: Johnny Cash’s Hurt.  

In their bedchambers, Riley looked around as she exhaled a shaky breath. Pictures of her and Drake, Drake’s parents, their friends, Savannah and Bartie littered bookcase shelves and the nightstands. His robe was balled up on the settee at the bed’s footboard.

Her vanity was crowded with cosmetics, expensive fragrances in elegant bottles, and a painted, wooden box overflowing with jewelry.

All gifted to her by Liam.

Portraits of Cordonians long gone, with pale faces and thin lips, lined one wall. She and Drake had been planning to put them in storage and decorate with brightly colored abstracts and nature scenes.

They were going to build a life together.

Riley grabbed his pillow and pulled it next to her body; she lowered her head to inhale his scent imbedded in the fabric. Tears pricked her eyes but refused to fall.

The Duchess was acutely aware of the largeness of the space and how empty it felt without Drake’s presence.

In the house given to her by Liam.

The closing of a door was loud enough to be heard over the hushed roar of the waterfall. Riley frowned as she lifted her head; more than likely it was Gladys coming to check on her.

“I’m fine, Gladys,” the noblewoman called out in a quavering voice.

No answer as the footsteps came closer.

Riley let out an annoyed sigh. She didn’t want company; she didn’t want to answer any questions, regardless of how well-meaning they were. She tossed the pillow onto the bed as she rose, ready to waylay the majordomo. The doorway filled, and her breath caught in her throat when she saw him. His face was flushed and his breathing slightly heavy, as if he had run through the entire manor to reach the rooms.

“What …what are you doing here?” Riley stammered in a dull tone. She was too emotionally exhausted to muster up anger, surprise, relief … anything.

His brow furrowed in confusion at her question. “I love you,” he replied in a low voice as he shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it onto an antique rocking chair.

She ran her fingers raggedly through her short curls. “I ... I made dinner.”

He flashed her a quick smile. “Good. I’m starving.” The smile faded. “We need to talk about … earlier.”

Before Riley could respond, her phone rang; the sound of it was shrill and slightly jarring. Curious as to who it could be but also grateful for the distraction, she turned away to answer it.

Her eyes widened and her heart dropped into her stomach as her gaze went from the caller ID to the visitor, and back again.

The Palace

Leo and Marguerite stood beneath the shower head, warm water rinsing away soap bubbles as it pelted their skin. The former royal alternated between wincing and grimacing from the pain radiating from his lower back as he struggled to stand upright.

“SweetJesuscomepleaseus, Marguerite,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “Where the hell did you learn that new shit?”

The Princess was behind him, washing his back; she paused her motions to press the pad of her thumb into the offended area; Leo let out a relieved groan.

“At least there are no rope burns this time,” she consoled as the washrag slipped from Leo’s shoulder to the wet floor beneath them.

“Thank God for small favors,” he muttered as his palms splayed against the damp-tiled shower wall.

“Why are you coming to Monaco?” Marguerite questioned.

“International Baccarat Tournament in Monte Carlo. Staying three days, then off to Greece for a Mediterranean cruise aboard the Jewel of the Sea.”

Her lips pursed in thought as she stooped to retrieve the washcloth. Her palm slapped one of Leo’s ass cheeks before her index finger jammed itself into his puckered orifice as she rose. He yelped in annoyance and pain.

“GET YOUR FINGER OUT MY ASS!” he yelled.

“Darling, why don’t we return to Monaco and get married?” the Princess proposed as her finger twisted inside of Leo.

It wasn’t an arbitrary question; nothing was ever random with Marguerite. Leo was a fine piece of man: tall, handsome, intelligent. He may no longer hold a royal title, but that was an advantage. Not having a moniker meant one country, one sovereign. Royal blood still flowed through his veins, and he held land ownings in both Cordonia and its provinces, which would satisfy her parents. And Leo could never threaten her with severing governmental relations as Liam had done earlier.

Over a commoner slut.

With amazing tits.

“YOU ARE STILL IN MY ASS!” Leo retorted.

Marguerite removed her finger, sticking it beneath the overhead stream of water.

“Well?” she demanded.

Leo shook his head, droplets from his hair flying in the air. “Look, I enjoy our times together, but I can’t have sex like this every day, multiple times a day.”

“It’s like exercise, your body has to become acclimated to it,” the Princess explained as she stepped in front of him to shampoo her hair.

“And there’s a reason I abdicated my own throne.”

“Thanks to Anton Severus, that reason is now six feet underground.” She exhaled a petulant sigh. “If only Anton hadn’t attempted to kill Liam, the man would be a hero throughout all of Europe and not in a prison cell.”

“That reason is still my father, Marguerite!” Leo spat angrily as he stepped out of the shower. “You need to leave.”

“If I’ve said anything untrue, I will rescind my offer and leave immediately. But I haven’t. You simply haven’t healed and don’t have enough liquor in your system to bandage the pain.”

She twisted her honey-blonde hair, squeezing the excess water from her tresses. “Marry me and re-discover the joy of being a royal again. You won’t be the ruling monarch which gives you all the rewards and none of the responsibilities. It’s a win-win darling.”

She sauntered out and up to Leo who was avoiding her gaze, her wet body glistening. He was combing his hair, purposely avoiding Marguerite’s gaze. Her arms snaked around his neck before she stood on her toes to kiss him.

“Be a good sport, luv,” she urged.

“My cruise …”

“Our honeymoon!”

A half-hour later, the pair slipped through the rooms’ doorway with Leo lugging two suitcases. They both glanced down the hall, seeing the sliver of light beneath the closed door to Liam’s library.

Tagging: @jared2612 @ao719 @marietrinmimi @queenjilian @indiacater @kingliam2019 @bebepac @liamxs-world @mom2000aggie @liamrhysstalker2020 @neotericthemis @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet @busywoman @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam @beezm @gardeningourmet @lovingchoices14 @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles @lady-calypso @emkay512 @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @queenrileyrose @alj4890 @yourfavaquarius111 @motorcitymademadame​ @queenmiarys @choicesficwriterscreations @moodmusicmonday​ @katedrakeohd​

#dcbbw writes #the commoner's wife #mood music monday #luck of the draw #liam x riley #riley x drake #writers of tumblr #writeblr

[moodmusicmonday]

Luck of the Draw 2023 MASTERLIST

It's HERE! It's finally here, and we are THRILLED to share this Masterlist! Our fandom is so creative, and we know, this is just a fraction of the talent we possess. To our creators: Y'ALL ARE AMAZING! These turned out so incredibly good, and we can't thank you enough for participating in this year's event! We love each of you dearly!

Please check out the playlist of submitted songs, and don't forget to check out the submissions below the cut! There is something there for EVERYONE... seriously! And when you check these out, support these creators! Leave them a like or a message of encouragement! It would mean the world to them!

*We are waiting on just a couple of more submissions. We will add you on when we receive your submission.

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📚📖 Fanfics & Poetry 📖📚

Almost submitted by @socalwriterbee

Open Heart; Ethan Ramsey x f!OC (Tessa Martinez)

"Unfinished Business (acoustic)" by Neriah, JC Stewart

Always Lover submitted by @peonyblossom

America's Most Eligible; Carson Stewart x f!MC (Juliet James)

"Almost Lover" by A Fine Frenzie

The Commoner's Wife, Chapter 6: Three Blind Mice; submitted by @dcbbw

The Royal Romance/Heir; Liam Rys x f!MC (Riley), Drake Walker x f!MC (Riley)

"Just Say When" by Nothing More

Falling For You submitted by @queenrileyrose

The Royal Romance; MC (Riley) x ??? (former); Liam Rys x MC (Riley)

"Freaking My Out" by Ava Max

If Only I Could submitted by @cariantha

Open Heart; Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Sawyer Brooks)

"The Enemy" by Andrew Belle

Right by Your Side submitted by @alj4890

The Royal Romance; Maxwell Beaumont x MC (Riley)

"Runaway" by P!nk

Somewhere Else submitted by @txemrn

The Nanny Affair; m!Sam Dalton x MC (Brynn Schuyler); m!Robin Flores x MC (Brynn Schuyler)

"Paris" by Taylor Swift

WTD Drabble submitted by @lilyoffandoms

Wake the Dead; Troy Hassan x m!MC (Saeed)

"Because You Loved Me" by Celine Dion

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🖌🎨 Moodboards & Edits 🎨🖌

If Only... submitted by @twinkleallnight

The Royal Romance; Liam Rys & Queen Eleanor

"Hollow as a Bone" - Cowboy Junkies

"Moral of the Story" by Ashe submitted by @tessa-liam

Rules of Engagement

Viva Las Vegas submitted by @peonierose

Open Heart; Soraya Auclair (F!OC) x Meilani Leahi (F!OC)

"More Than Words" by Extreme

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#luck of the draw #mood music monday #choices luck of the draw #mmm luck of the draw #mmm lotd #lotd #choices mood music monday #luck of the draw masterlist #Spotify

[unendingwanderlust]

Written for the @fellowshipofthefics's Luck of the Draw. I rolled: "Please, put that down", Drunk, First Meeting.

Slayers and Watchers are from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but you don't need to be familiar with it to understand what's going on!

TITLE: She (Alone) Shall Stand RATING: T WARNINGS: Graphic violence (vampire slaying), mentions of slavery, past canon Silmarillion events. RELATIONSHIPS: Laergliriel & Lindaeareth (OFC & OFC, mother-daughter relationship), eventual Thranduil/Thranduil's Wife, misc. past/mentioned relationships SERIES: Slayers and Watchers of Arda

SUMMARY: When Sauron performed his vile experiments in Angband, even he could not predict what he would one day unleash upon the world…

Or: the tale of Arda’s first Slayer, the one she loves most, and her journey to finding her Watcher.

READ ON AO3

#fotfics #luck of the draw #eden writes #eden's moodboards #thranduil #oropher #oc: laergliriel #oc: lindaeareth #series: slayers and watchers of arda

[alj4890]

Right by Your Side

(Maxwell Beaumont x MC) in a Choices The Royal Romance one shot.

For @moodmusicmonday 's Luck of the Draw with the song

A/N I fell hard for this song while trying to think of something for it. So many different Choices books came to mind for this but then as I listened to the lyrics over and over, I kept going back to TRR book 2 and the mess with Riley's reputation and how Maxwell stood by her from the very start (and of course the running LOL) So, here's what my Maxwell shipping heart needed from the beginning of that storyline.

Masterlist

Right by Your Side

Riley felt numb that first night at Ramsford. Perhaps she was still in shock from having guards drag her away as if she was the most vile criminal ever to come to Cordonia. Maybe it was because everyone had seen pictures of her in her underwear and they would forever be on the Internet.

Or, was it because Fate had stepped in to keep her from having to make a decision?

She flopped on her stomach when the image of Liam standing before her in the hedge maze came to mind.

I don't need to wait any longer to make my choice. I love you.

Was that fear she felt in that moment? Was she afraid of hearing what her heart would say if he were to actually pop the question?

Was it because the man standing before her was not the one who had been by her side all along?

The one who came rushing to the airport to stop her from leaving?

Riley buried her face in her pillow. Hot tears began to stain the satin pillowcase as she muffled her cries against it. She didn't want to answer that. She didn't want to address any of the thoughts going through her mind.

Then why did I tell Bertrand that I was innocent with Tariq but I am in love with someone else?

She knew deep down that was the truth. That was the only good thing to come out of this horrible night.

She'd finally spoken about what was truly in her heart.

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

The next morning...

Half asleep, Riley mumbled for whoever was knocking to come in.

Maxwell poked his head in.

"Hey blossom."

"Hey."

He walked over and sat down on the edge of her bed. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

She pushed herself into an upright position.

"I'm fine, Max."

"Are you fine fine or fine?" He asked.

Riley couldn't help but smile. "I'm definitely on this side of fine fine but not quite there yet."

That dimpled smile of his she adored appeared, lighting up his entire face.

And her heart.

"Good." He crawled across her bed to settle comfortably next to her. "I can't stand to see you with tear streaks."

"It's not my best look." She tried to joke.

He draped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her close. "You know you're gorgeous, but yeah. Tears and your skin do not go well together at all."

She laughed while gently elbowing him in the ribs. "Thanks ever so much."

"Anytime." He jumped to his feet when they heard an all too familiar throat clear from the doorway.

With a disapproving glance to his brother, Bertrand walked in with a breakfast tray.

"What's all this?" Riley asked.

"Breakfast in bed!" Maxwell told her.

"Maxwell convinced me that when a young woman goes through something traumatic, that she needs rest and ample sustenance." Bertrand explained.

"Guys." Riley blinked back tears. "You shouldn't have gone to so much trouble."

"You are no trouble." Maxwell argued.

"Well..." Bertrand paused when Maxwell glared at him. "It isn't necessarily you, that is the trouble."

"The trouble is the situation." Maxwell added to try to smooth over his brother's words. "Not you."

Riley wiped at her tears. "This is why I should go back to New York. Look what happens when an outsider comes here."

She forced herself to look up at them.

"I don't belong in your world."

"You do!" Maxwell argued, jostling the tray as he sat down beside her again. "You fit in our world perfectly."

"Not perfectly." Bertrand corrected. "But we can fix that."

"How?" Riley asked.

"By teaching you everything a lady of the Royal Court would know." He explained. "Once you blend in with the other ladies, we'll be able to find out who sabotaged your moment to become queen."

Riley paled some. "I appreciate that, but I don't want to be queen."

Bertrand grimaced. "Be that as it may, you'll never truly be free to be with whomever you want if scandal is associated with your name. No Cordonian family would allow it."

Riley blinked as his words sunk in. "I see."

"Plus," Bertrand continued. "The Beaumont name has been tarnished because of our sponsorship of you."

"Oh no." She buried her head in her hands.

Maxwell was quick to comfort her.

"Hey, don't worry about us." He hugged her close. "I've made a mockery of the name Beaumont more times than I can count."

Bertrand rolled his eyes over that bit of family history.

Riley couldn't believe that not only was she in what seemed an impossible situation but that she'd somehow also lost her chance to be with the man she was secretly in love with.

"I'm so sorry."

"It isn't your fault." Bertrand gruffly argued. "But we are going to need your help to right this wrong. And," his stern demeanor softened, "you are a Beaumont."

"I am?" She asked.

"You're stuck with us." Maxwell winked at her. "For better or for worse."

"Definitely for the better." She winked back with a tremulous smile. "So? When do we start the lessons?"

"Once you've had a chance to eat and get ready for the day." Bertrand told her on his way out. "Meet us in the ballroom."

"Yes, your grace." She dipped her head in thanks.

A slight smile appeared on his lips. "Perhaps our training won't take as long as I once thought."

He bowed and left her alone with Maxwell.

"Give it to me straight." She pleaded. "How bad is my reputation and how horrible are these lessons going to be?"

Maxwell hesitated, raising his hands like a scale weighing each option.

"Crap." Riley flopped back on her pillows.

"It won't be all bad." He told her. "I'll be there to help you through it and to find ways to escape the boring lessons."

Riley rose up on her elbows. "That takes care of the lessons, but what about when I am back out in public?"

"Tell you what." He reached for her hand. "The moment it gets too much for you, just say the word and BAM! We run out of there."

"Really?" Her smile grew at the thought. "You'll run away with me when a noble is acting like a jerk or I accidentally mess up?"

"Yep." He squeezed her hand. "On my honor as a Beaumont."

"Then I think I can get through this." She sat up straight and began to pour some coffee into her cup.

Maxwell watched her settle in to the breakfast he and Bertrand had painstakingly prepared with a great deal of relief. His room shared a wall with Riley's and he'd heard her crying off and on during the night.

It was a slash to his heart as he thought of her in here alone, probably blaming herself for everything that happened.

Around four in the morning he decided that he was done playing the simple escort. From now on, he would protect her from the direct cuts and slurs that those of his rank would hurl her way.

Even if it meant irreparable damage to his family name, Maxwell would do anything for Riley.

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

Madeleine's home...

Riley's stomach churned. She wanted nothing more than to beg Bertrand and Maxwell to take her back to Ramsford so that she could hide there forever. She knew though that if she was to ever have a chance with the man by her side, she would have to find a way to get through this.

Swallowing nervously, she paused in the open doorway of Madeleine's ballroom. Her eyes darted over the familiar faces. Heads were already bent toward each other while fingers pointed at her. The few reporters allowed within the event had their cameras poised to capture the first images of Riley being called out for daring to return.

Just as fear made her legs twitch to run in the opposite direction, Maxwell settled his hand over hers. She looked up and saw nothing but pride in his eyes.

"You're doing great." He whispered, squeezing her ice cold fingers. "Keep your chin up. Here comes, Adelaide."

After the greetings, Adelaide stepped back from the pair, critically studying the way they stood together.

"Don't you make a cute couple?"

Riley immediately jumped on that. "We do, don't we?"

"We do?" Maxwell's eyes widened.

He wasn't certain if he more surprised by Adelaide saying it or Riley agreeing.

"The cutest." Riley added with her first genuine smile of the evening.

Maxwell tried to excuse the conversation as Riley probably needing something to latch on to help stop the gossip of her with Tariq. He didn't mind being the new source that Cordonian's biggest gossip would have spread around before they even walked across the ballroom. If that's the role Riley needed him in now, then he was more than ready to play it.

To prove his point, he kept his hand over the one she had resting on his arm.

"Ready?" He asked when they spotted Liam and Madeleine.

"As I'll ever be." She mumbled, instinctively moving closer to Maxwell. "I really need to talk to Liam and clear things up. Don't you think?"

He hesitated. He knew how much his friend had fallen for Riley. It would hurt Liam to hear she didn't return his feelings. Yet wouldn't it hurt more to wait until he saw her with whomever she was in love with?

"I think you should, just not right now." He barely nodded toward the nobles staring intently at them. "Not with this audience."

"You're right." She released a sigh. "I guess I have to wait. If only he had called me after everything happened, then I wouldn't be so nervous to how he'll react."

What if Liam refused to let her remain in Cordonia? What if he wouldn't let her try and clear her name? She'd never be able to be with Maxwell if that happened.

Lost in her tormented thoughts, she found herself dipping into a curtsy before the royal couple.

"Lady Riley." Liam lifted her hand to his lips, eyes revealing a wealth of adoration for her. "We should talk-"

"To our newly arrived guests." Madeleine finished for him.

"Right." Liam shot a pleading look at Maxwell.

Riley cleared her throat. "Congratulations you two."

Madeleine beamed at her while hugging Liam's arm close against her chest.

"Thank you. Liam is such an attentive fiance."

Riley managed to somehow not roll her eyes. If the countess had any idea that she wasn't wanting him back, then she probably wouldn't put on such a show.

"I can't imagine him being anything less." Riley managed to say with a straight face.

"We really must go greet our other guests." Madeleine told them. "Enjoy the party."

Maxwell released the breath he was holding once he and Riley were left alone. "That went well."

She chuckled. "Honestly I expected her to brandish a scarlet A while screeching for guards to throw me out."

Maxwell's grin brought out her own.

"She'd at least have the decency to wait to do that until they start serving dessert."

"Thank God for small favors."

Maxwell squeezed her hand once more. "Come on. We'll find out seats."

After enduring a brief conversation with Penelope and Kiara, Riley was able to relax for the time being once she was seated between Maxwell and Bertrand. Perhaps she would be able to get through this easier than she expected. She'd hoped to have Hana and Drake on her side, yet they were nowhere to be found.

At least she had Maxwell there to help her wade through this minefield of pompous manners and tradition.

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

"One night down." Maxwell collapsed on her bed with an oof.

Riley sank down beside him as she slipped her heels off. "Thanks to you."

"Me?" He shook his head. "Tonight was all you, blossom."

"Yeah, but I wouldn't have been able to get through it without you." She argued.

"We make a great team." He quipped.

"The best." She stressed.

The two jumped when there was a knock at her door.

"You think it's Bertrand?" She whispered.

Maxwell shrugged.

She peeped out the door to see a servant with a vase filled with roses. Taking them without a word, she quickly shut and locked her bedroom door.

"Oh!" Riley buried her nose in the fragrant blooms. "How beautiful! Did you get these for me?"

Maxwell hated that he hadn't thought of doing so. "No. Wish I had."

She set it down on the table, admiring the bouquet.

"There's something wrapped around that stem towards the left." He pointed out.

Riley unfurled the paper. "It's from Liam!"

"What's it say?" He got to his feet to read it over her shoulder.

The pair both felt guilty when they read the new king's heartfelt plea to meet secretly upon his balcony.

"I have to go." Riley folded the note and slipped it into the pocket of her dress. "I have to tell him the truth."

Maxwell felt a new slash to his heart. After these past few weeks of having her to himself, he realized he was falling in love with Riley. He couldn't tell her, since she was already having to let Liam down. The last thing she needed was more stress over her complicated love life. He just hoped whoever she loved realized what they had in her.

"Madeleine placed your rooms as far apart as she could." He explained. "You're not going to be able to sneak over there with all the nobles here."

Riley eyed her window. "There's more than one way out of this room."

"We're on the third floor!" Maxwell exclaimed. "You'll get hurt or worse!"

Riley opened her window and examined her path to Liam's room.

"Riley please. When I said worse, that meant death!" Maxwell pleaded. "Don't-"

She climbed out the window, perched on the edge, and winked at him. "Promise I'll be careful."

"Riley!" He harshly whispered.

He stuck his head out to watch her precarious walk around Madeleine's home. His heart was stuck in his throat when she struggled to reach the railing to Liam's balcony. She swayed somewhat until she got a good grip.

Once he saw her climb over safely, he ran to her bathroom and emptied the contents of his stomach. Maxwell had never been more terrified than he was in thinking he could lose her if she tumbled off the wall. He hoped Liam would realize the dangerous path she took and find another route back to her room. He honestly couldn't take seeing her try to make her way along that narrow ledge again.

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

"Riley!" Liam rushed to her when he heard her land behind him.

"Liam." She stopped him from embracing her. "We need to talk."

"I know." He took her hands in his. "It's just so good to see you again. I need to tell you--"

"Liam, I'm in love with someone else!" Riley blurted out, unable to hear him say anything nice to her.

The guilt was killing her that she couldn't return his love.

Liam froze. He shook his head as if to clear it.

"I'm so sorry." Riley squeezed his hands before pulling away. "But somewhere along the way I fell in love with someone else."

"Is it Tariq? Is that why he was in your room at Applewood?" Liam asked.

"No! I've never felt anything for him. His being in my room was a big misunderstanding." She explained.

"Then who-"

"He doesn't know how I feel." Riley hedged. She needed to tell Maxwell how in love she was before anyone else found out. "And unless I can clear my name, I won't be able to be with him."

Liam folded his arms and leaned against the wall. His lips that had once been in a delighted smile were now in a firm line.

"Then we must do all we can to help you clear it." He decided.

Riley's eyes burned with tears.

"You'd, you'd do that? For me? After I just..." She lowered her head in her hands while shaking with sobs.

Liam gently took her in his arms, softly shushing her apologies.

"Riley, I want you in my life in whatever capacity you allow." Liam admitted.

It hurt to say he would settle for being her friend. He hoped that perhaps she would one day return his affections as time went on. But for now, he'd do what he could to keep her, protect her, and clear her name.

The two briefly discussed what to do during the engagement tour.

"How did you get over here?" He asked.

When she pointed to the narrow ledge, he paled over the danger she'd placed herself in.

"There is a hidden set of corridors through here." He opened a panel in his room to reveal the path servants traveled in the early morning hours. "At the end of the hall there is a door that opens out into the main loft at the top of the stairs."

"Thanks Liam." She hugged him. "And not just for an easier way back to my room."

His lips curved in a sad smile as he looked at her. "No need to thank me. Goodnight, Lady Riley."

"Goodnight."

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

Venice, Italy...

Bertrand and Justin were once again telling Riley how to act to continue to win over nobles.

"We're making progress." Maxwell repeated to her. "Not only with your reintroduction to society but in finding clues toward whoever is behind the pictures."

"Do you think she'll be there tonight?" Riley asked.

"It's the biggest event in town. Everyone will be there which means the press will be there in droves." He explained.

Justin wished them luck once they left the limo.

Bertrand went on inside, giving them a moment alone.

"You okay?" Maxwell asked.

"I..." She shook her head with a laugh. "Honestly, I wish we could get out of here. Go enjoy Venice at night."

Riley looked about, longing to be anywhere than on a mission.

"Cordonia is the first European country I've ever visited. Now I'm in Italy and I wish I could experience it as a tourist." She snorted softly. "An average, maxed out her credit card to get here, tourist."

Maxwell laced his fingers with hers. "You want to run away?"

Her head jerked up to look at him. "Could we?"

"Say the word, and we will use all our training to get out of here." He told her.

Riley couldn't help but giggle over the memories of their early morning runs around Ramsford.

Maxwell began to over exaggerate his stretches.

"Stop!" She burst out laughing, feeling all her tension melt away.

"Gotta get limber if we're to run." He explained with a smile, his dimples deepening over being able to make her laugh.

"You're crazy." She teased. "And I am so ready to call your bluff."

"Not bluffing." Maxwell corrected. "I promised you I'd run away whenever you needed us to." He leaned down, nose nearly touching hers. "So, m'lady? Do you need to run away?"

Riley's breath caught at his face so near her own. She could see all the different shades of blue in those ocean colored eyes of his. She could detect the light splash of cologne he preferred mixed with the cinnamon Altoids he was known to munch on whenever nervous.

She longed to lean forward the few inches and kiss him. She wondered what he would do. She assumed he would be shocked at first. Would he participate in the kiss once he got over the surprise? Would he admit he felt something for her?

Or would she walk away in embarrassment and heartache?

Maxwell realized his mistake the moment he got too close. He should have thought through his actions instead of just going with whatever he felt in the moment. Her face, the one he adored, was already hard to keep from staring at. Now he was able to see every single feature that held his attention.

Her eyes, green as the first leaves of spring, shined with warmth. The freckles that dotted along her lightly tanned skin dusted her upper cheeks and bridge of her nose. Her lips, petal pink with the bottom slightly plumper than the top one, parted as if ready to be kissed.

What would she do if he allowed himself to accidentally (on purpose) lean more forward so that his lips could brush hers? Would she gasp in delighted surprise or would she shove him away in disgust?

"There you two are!" Hana ran down the steps to embrace them, unknowingly breaking the sexual tension developing. "I was worried I would have to go in by myself."

Maxwell and Riley forced themselves back from one another. Both knew they couldn't run away now, especially with Hana so relieved to see them.

"Shall we, ladies?" Maxwell held his arms out to them.

The three got in line to be photographed.

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

Riley somehow managed to get through the dinner without jumping out of her seat to confront the photographer. Maxwell sat across from her, smiling in encouragement each time her eyes met his. He was the only thing keeping her calm. She wasn't certain how she impressed both the Italian noble and Olivia, barely paying attention to what she said in response to the wine and Cordonia joining the EU. Yet somehow, she'd managed to rack up more points in improving her standing in Cordonian society.

If only it mattered in her having a chance to be with the man she wanted.

Bertrand seemed so proud of her performance. Would he still be if he knew she wanted his brother?

Riley longed to bang her head against the table. She was utterly exhausted from playing the part of a proper lady turned secret detective. She was bored hearing the small talk of the other ladies of the Court.

Then Penelope opened her mouth and asked her about Maxwell.

"What?" Riley bit out.

"Do you think Lord Maxwell would be interested in making a match with me?" Penelope repeated.

Riley glared at the model perfect woman. How dare she even think she could be with Maxwell! Didn't she listen to the rumors that he and Riley were a couple? That that was the reason they were always together now???

Riley was ready to tell her to back off. Then she caught sight of Bertrand off in a corner observing her and somehow tempered her answer.

"No offense." Riley tried to control her voice. "But you're not really his type."

"Oh." Penelope's lips formed a perfect pout made for lipstick commercials. "What is his type?"

"Someone gorgeous. Lots of fun." Riley felt her own heart drop over not being his type. "Someone who appreciates his sweet ways and how he--"

"So someone like you?" Penelope interrupted.

"Me?" Riley stared at her immediate sworn enemy. "Um..."

"Shh!" Hana softly shushed them. "Here he comes."

Maxwell bowed his head to the group. "Ladies? If you would excuse us, I need to have a word with Lady Riley."

"Of course!" Penelope beamed at him then at Riley as she followed the others across the room.

"What was that about?" He whispered.

"I'm not sure." Riley couldn't decide if Penelope was as horrible as she thought. "What's up?"

"Things are quieting down, so now would be a good time to find the photographer and do a little interrogation." He explained.

"Okay." She looked around the crowded place. "And how do we do that without drawing attention?"

"Oh, we're going to draw attention." Maxwell's grin turned mischievous. "Just the kind that doesn't let anyone know what we are really up to."

He led her to a less crowded area where a group of the press were near.

"Your call on what we should do to draw their eyes this way?"

Riley looked up at him as she considered a few options. He could always pretend to be throwing her out of House Beaumont or...

"You should propose to me."

Maxwell stilled. His eyes searched hers to see if she was messing around to only see a shuttered almost vulnerable look in the green depths.

With her hands clasped, she quickly told him he could then pretend to be confessing his love for something else, like gelato.

"Okay." He audibly swallowed.

"I'll give you the signal when I see the photographer." Riley added.

"Sounds good."

He cleared his throat loud enough for some people to glance over at them.

"Lady Riley?" Maxwell gently took her hands in his. "There's something I need to confess."

"There is?" She asked.

He nodded, completely serious at this moment. "I should have seen it happening, yet I was blind to what was standing right in front of me."

"Maxwell, what are you..." She trailed off when he swept down to one knee.

The press surrounded them, each trying to snap pictures of the romantic moment.

"I want to shout it from the rooftops." His smile bloomed. "That I love..."

Everyone waited with baited breath.

"Gelato!" He exclaimed.

Riley choked back a laugh as everyone else expressed their dismay.

As the group left them, grumbling over the lack of drama, Riley spotted the photographer.

"There she is!" She whispered, yanking him up.

The woman noticed the two and took off running.

"After her!" Maxwell nudged Riley into action.

The pair dashed out of the restaurant and down the dark streets of Venice in hot pursuit.

"I can't believe we're gaining on her!" Riley puffed, hiking the skirt of her dress higher to give her legs more freedom.

"I knew our early mornings would be worth it!" Maxwell teased.

They cornered the woman and got a credit card number of the one who paid her for the pictures. This only created more questions for them to find the answers to.

"We did it!" Riley launched herself into his arms, hugging him tight.

Maxwell stumbled back against a wall the moment her body collided with his.

They both stilled, save for their excited breaths. Their eyes met and before either could talk themselves out of it, their lips met in a desperate kiss.

Maxwell's hands slipped into her blonde hair as his lips moved over and over hers, memorizing the taste and texture of her mouth.

Riley kept her arms around his waist, gripping him as close as she could.

They broke apart to catch their breaths, hearts racing with more than just the mad dash across Venice had caused.

"Riley?" Maxwell couldn't make himself ask the question he needed an answer to.

"It's you." She breathed. "It's always been you. I fell in love with you with all the dress fittings and early morning wake up calls and--"

She moaned into the heat of his kiss. Her arms slipped around his neck as his hands drifted down her body.

"I love you." He muttered against her mouth. "So much."

Riley sank into his embrace, her leg wrapping around his hip as they kissed.

"We really need to find somewhere else to continue this." Maxwell groaned when she moved against him.

"My room." She stepped out of his arms. "On the train. Now."

He pulled her close to his side. "You're not worried someone will see and hear us?"

"I hope they do." She paused when it hit her that he might not want that to happen. "I'm sorry. I forgot that you can't be with me until my name is cleared."

"What are you talking about?" He asked, nudging her chin up.

"Bertrand said no family would allow me to be with anyone with my name associated with scandal." She reminded him.

"That doesn't matter with me." His smile gave her hope. "Don't you remember? You're a Beaumont."

Her eyes widened. "You mean..."

"It doesn't matter if we ever clear this scandal up." He pressed his lips to hers. "We can be together out in the open because we're Beaumont's. Let them try and say anything."

Tears sparkled in her eyes. They were for the first time in a very long time, tears of absolute joy.

#Spotify #mood music monday #luck of the draw #choices trr #the royal romance #trr #trr maxwell #maxwell x mc #choices the royal romance #choices the stories you play #choices maxwell beaumont

[aventurine-ipc-gambler]

You're annoying.

-@dr-ratio-official

Aw, thank you.

#coin flip #luck of the draw

[dt-and-luck]

uh.. is this thing on...?

oh- there we go! uh.. hello, uhm.. internet, i think? i don't know. uhm. my name is the spectator, or choice specs, haha. just call me specs.

i find myself in a bit of a problem. im not one to sound crazy but considering i dont have any better options, im kind of a timeline traveler and i have no idea where i am. oh, theres my little sister by the way, her name is mara. she's not much of a talker, or typer, but shes a sweetheart, prommy

i dont think this is in the "Underverse" so im kind of lost, my brush doesnt work either, soo.. hi! i guess i'll be here a while. judging from the fact this is called "rotomblr", i think im in some sort of multiverse with pokemon probably? haha. thats hilarious.

uh. heres the obligatory picture or smth. dont mind the fact she's crying, she'll be fine, prommy

itll be lovely 2 meet you all or. sumn. idk but im just glad im alive

OOC BELOW

[*HELLOOOOOOOOEVERYBODY HI SO NEW HYPERFIXATION MEANS NEW BLOG HELLO SPECS AND MARA. i'll be using this typing quirk ( [* ] ) in ooc posts, and specs will be using THIS color in posts where mara also talks, of which she will use THIS color instead!! bewahghh this is so exciting, to finally be getting back... they're in alola! specs' tag is "DT for Determination" and mara's is "Luck of the draw"!!!]

[*ily all! over now!!]

~bob/mangosteen

#WE ARE SO BACK/ooc #pkmn irl #pokemon irl #pokeblogging #rotomblr #irl pkmn #irl pokemon #DT for Determination #Luck of the draw

[erathene]

A Beacon in your Darkness

100 word drabble written for @fellowshipofthefics 'Luck of the Draw' March 2024 writing challenge. I got 17 ("Hey. Look at me.") and 5 ("Trust"), and this is just what came to mind.

Warnings: Descriptions of a panic attack. It's only 100 words, but I have hidden it under the cut in case it makes anyone uncomfortable.

Yes I have a 5-word title for my 100-word drabble, sue me 😅

......................

"Hey. Look at me."

His voice cuts through the roar in your ears. Warm hands wrap around your sweating palms.

"Do you trust me?"

Yes. You would convey it were you not silenced by the chokehold of fear. Your chest is constricted, the ache unbearable, failing to draw a single breath. The relentless beat of your heart is contrary to the sporadic shudders shaking your limbs. Any control you had was lost, nothing feels real. One thought remains; you just want it to stop.

Brilliant blue eyes meet yours, strong and unwavering, a beacon in your darkness.

"Follow my breath."

#fotfics #fotfics march event #luck of the draw #writing event #panic attack #legolas x reader #legolas x you #fanfiction #lotr fanfic #legolas greenleaf

[sarahmaclean]

On Kate Clayborn

Ok. So I know everyone knows how fabulous Kate is. Besides being brilliantly funny on Twitter (RIP? Are we saying RIP for this yet?) and also having a tremendous Substack that you should subscribe to, she just so happens to be one of the best contemporary romance novelists writing right now.

This is not hyperbole. Every time I sit down with a Kate Clayborn book, I think, "Good God. She is fucking great." (Her heroes also fuck great, iykwim)

It's hard to choose a favorite of her books -- I adore Love Lettering, which is lingering and romantic...and Love at First is so gorgeous...the writing, the romance, the wonderful world she builds for us to get cozy in for the duration of the book (both free right now in KU!). And Georgie, All Along, which is coming in January, is for sure one of my favorite romances of all time (preorder it right now is what I'm saying).

But I'll always have a soft spot in my heart for the Chance of a Lifetime series, which follows three best friends who go in on a lottery ticket and win. It's not enough money to quit jobs and buy islands (Did y'all see that $2 Billion dollar jackpot? Wild.), but it's enough to change lives. And each of the books in the series follows one of the friends making the choice to change her life. My favorite is Luck of the Draw, in which the heroine has to atone for her actions and, in doing so, trips into a fake relationship/forced proximity situation with a hero who is absolutely ON FIRE SEXY.

In very fun news, the first two books in the Chance of a Lifetime series are getting new covers! Kate revealed them today -- Beginner's Luck and Luck of the Draw -- and you can find them on shelves starting in December. LOOK HOW CUTE! They will make the best holiday gifts to the romance readers in your life!

Anyway. All this is to say, Kate writes bangers. And if you haven't read her, you should. Immediately.

#Kate Clayborn #best romance novels #best romance writers #luck of the draw #beginners luck #Georgie all along #love letterng #love at first #heroes who eat

[i-did-not-mean-to]

FireBird - March

Ah, my dear friend @cilil was so good to send in a couple of requests!

It's my joy and honour to present the first fic to you tonight :D

Prompts: “The worst part is you didn’t even notice” – “I don’t need a gentleman right now.” – Responsibility – Knight in shining armour

Pairing: Eönwë x Gothmog

Words: 1030

Warnings: Injury, blood, sadness, bad elves, good Eönwë

“Let him be, I’ll take care of it,” Eönwë called, feeling the back of his neck heat up as the despicable half-truth crossed his dry lips.

Nobody had expected the co-habitation of once inveterate foes to be easy, and Eönwë even secretly believed that Manwë could and should have been more discouraging when it came to the outright hostile behaviour towards the reformed former denizens of Angband.

Unfortunately, the reality turned out to be much worse than anything the kind-hearted herald had ever imagined.

“Milord,” the group of reembodied Elves muttered and withdrew reluctantly.

It was forbidden for the Balrogs to travel in groups, and much too often resentful, unforgiving members of the High Houses liked to corner Melkor’s fallen servants and harass them cruelly.

“Away with you,” Eönwë called sternly. “Leave it to me!”

Of course, Eönwë did not doubt that any of the fearsome Maiar could have defended themselves against a few puny incarnates, but he took his role as a keeper of the peace very seriously.

Moreover, he was eager for this one Balrog in particular to understand that he was on his side, as much as that was even possible anymore.

“Bird,” Gothmog purred, leaning heavily against a boulder, and trying to angle his body so as to dissimulate the minor wounds the group of pesky troublemakers had inflicted upon him. “Have you come to chide me? I swear upon my honour that I’ve not laid a single claw upon your precious Children.”

At that ludicrous declaration, Eönwë let his frown deepen disapprovingly.

He knew Manwë’s stipulations only too well—after all, he had been the one tasked to convey them to the unfortunate souls they concerned—but, in his heart of hearts, he nevertheless much regretted to see his friend and lover hurt because of a set of cold, unfeeling rules.

“You’re allowed to defend yourself against those who’d seek to harm you,” he murmured insistently.

“And risk your displeasure, beloved? From your sweet lips came the ordinance to renounce my evil ways, and I shall do so, no matter the cost to my health and heart,” Gothmog replied calmly.

Unfortunately, his efforts at clumsy gallantry were considerably hampered by the fact that he was by now slowly slumping under the strain of desperately pretending that he was perfectly hale and happy.

“You look particularly appetising today, bird,” Gothmog tried to assuage the worry in the bright, sky-blue eyes of his most cherished enemy. “I mean, you look handsome.”

Eru’s long-haired pet meat bags might never have understood it, but there were truths and affinities sung into creation that far transcended their very limited interpretation of beauty and affection.

Thus, it had come to pass that these fierce warriors—having fought ferociously on opposite fronts in a seemingly eternal war—had ultimately found well-deserved peace in one another.

As all star-crossed lovers were wont to asseverate, they naturally were willing to selflessly die for the other.

Living, they’d soon found out, was a much more arduous and treacherous challenge.

Ever diligent to the point of undeniable stubbornness, Gothmog had decided that he’d use his new-found freedom to give Eönwë what he clearly yearned for so desperately: a proper romantic courtship.

“Could I interest you in a leisurely stroll by the river then?” the Balrog asked in a forcibly level voice.

“Don’t be silly,” Eönwë exclaimed. “You are injured! This is hardly the moment for pleasant walks by the water. Let me see!”

Indeed, the herald’s heart ached as he glimpsed the superficial but undoubtedly painful gashes marring Gothmog’s precious, gleaming hide.

“I shall have words with them,” he grumbled, gnashing his flawless teeth.

“Do not trouble yourself on my account, my sweetling,” Gothmog assured him quickly as he tried to squirm away from the inquisitive fingers ghosting across his skin and threatening to undo his carefully constructed façade of good manners and gentle words.

“They are my responsibility,” Eönwë opined. “And so are you, you foolhardy creature! If you will not defend yourself, will you at least promise to call for me if this ever happens again?”

His stern gaze softened, and his pursed lips relaxed into a charming smile. “I quite like being your knight in shining armour.”

As if embarrassed by his own confession, he drew his wings up defensively.

“Keep talking,” Gothmog drawled. The cocky, teasing grin he flashed Eönwë now was genuine, despite his tangible discomfort.

“You’re not the only one who’s trying to impress by putting his best foot forward, and the worst thing is, you didn’t even notice…” Eönwë complained softly, rubbing a blood-stained hand along his chiselled jaw shamefacedly.

“What do you believe has escaped my notice? How competently you’ve handled this situation, getting rid of these unwelcome intruders with aplomb and grace? Or your indescribable beauty as you arrived on the scene like an avenging entity made of summer bliss and autumn storms? You underestimate me, my winged wonder, for I am humbled by every awe-inspiring detail of your appearance and demeanour!”

“Humbug,” Eönwë mumbled, flattered despite suspecting that he was being lovingly mocked. “I don’t need a gentleman right now, Gothmog. Tell me how bad it is…Should I bring you to Estë?”

“Pah! Estë!” Gothmog guffawed. “What for? To be fussed over endlessly? ‘tis but a scratch, I tell you.”

Lifting his arm slowly, he cupped Eönwë’s cheek tenderly. “Please, believe me when I say that neither your entirely unnecessary preoccupation nor your gentle care has gone unnoticed.”

Beneath the soothing, healing caress of the one he loved against all odds and despite the bitter feud engraved into their very souls, Gothmog finally relaxed.

“When you arrived, I couldn’t help thinking how marvellous it is to see you appear like a ray of sun cutting through the blinding, burning mist of battle and to know that you’ve not come to smite me.”

“I am on your side, you know?” Eönwë whispered, curling up against the living heat of the terrible fire demon.

“There are no sides anymore,” Gothmog reminded him, quoting the announcement that had allowed them to meet and reconnect once more.

“Nevertheless…”

“Yes,” Gothmog yawned, slinging his arm around his beloved hero. “Thank you!”

-> Masterlist

Lots of love from me! (I shall be busy this weekend, but I theoretically am still willing to write something for this <3)

@fellowshipofthefics You didn't think that I'd skip this one, did you? LOL

#og post #Fanfiction #writing #IDNMT writes #jrrt #Tolkien fanfiction #Luck of the Draw #March event #FOTFICS March 2024 #FireBird #Eönwë x Gothmog #Eönwë #Gothmog #text prompt #Responsibility #Knight in shining armour #for Cílil