Characters: Liam, Drake, Maxwell, Leo, Constantine, Barthelemy, Godfrey, Merrin (MC/OC) Piper (MC/OC) Miranda (MC/OC) Madeleine, Delphine (OC) Eleanor, Regina, and more
Warnings: Consensual sexual content
Triggers: Gun violence (divergent canon of the attack at the ball) , broken trust, gas lighting, violation of privacy (canon storyline of photos taken without consent) death of minor characters (Example would be Drake’s mother) death of supporting characters (example would be Kiara) child taken from mother,
Summary: ‘One wrong move could start a war.’ Prince Liam of Cordonia was only four years old when his father drilled that concept into his head. His life was not his own, he belonged to the people; as did his older brother Leo, the Crown Prince. When Leo walks away, Liam is left with the weight of the crown and the pressure to do right by the kingdom. The pressure intensifies when he starts to realize some of the people closest to him aren’t who they seem and that his brother’s disappearance might not have been by choice. Will he figure out who he can trust before it’s too late?
Warning: chapter contains a character with an anxiety disorder, marital discord, mention of a child being taken from mother.
Chapter One: Obsequies of a Broken Heart
Cordonia, 25 years ago
A burst of lightening momentarily illuminated the otherwise dimly lit office, followed by a rolling boom of thunder that shook the fragile panes of centuries old stained glass. Fighting back the shiver that threatened to seize her slender body, she tried to focus on her breathing. In through the nose. Hold for five. Out through the mouth, slowly. 'Breathe...just breathe...' She closed her eyes, her fingers nervously rubbing her sweaty palms. 'Breathe...' In through the nose. Hold for five...A scream caught in her throat as a second round of thunder and lightening vibrated throughout the room. 'Breathe...just breathe...' Midway through the breathing technique the room lit up again, brighter than ever. This time when the thunder roared she couldn't hold back the scream that had been building since the storm began.
“Deli!” His voice collided with a second roll of thunder; his anger and frustration echoing off the bookcases and stonewalls that surround them. “Deli,” he repeated her name, softer this time. She waited, longing for the familiar brush of his fingers across her cheek. It was a ritual of sorts. She'd panic, he would soothe. It never came. Her shoulders drooped at yet another reminder that their relationship was no longer what it used to be. 'Just breathe,' she silently chanted when she felt the panic starting to rise again. “This is my fault. I should have known...” he paused, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. “I did know. Father warned me. He said you weren't...that you couldn't...”
She wanted to argue with her deceased father in law's assessment of her but the old man had proven to be right. What her family had considered an endearing trait, the outside world had seen as a weakness to be exploited. Timid. Anxious. To shy to be of any use. A beautiful face, nothing more. “I'm sorry.” The words caught in her throat. 'Breathe, just breathe.' If she could just control her breathing everything would be alright. It was always alright in the end.
“I know.” It was a familiar exchange, yet it felt different this time. There was no understanding, just irritation and an anger she didn't quite understand. “You're always sorry...yet nothing changes.”
Everything had changed, she wanted to scream at him. Everything had changed and that was the problem. There was no trace of the starry eyed boy who had told her their love could move mountains. In his place was a frustrated, miserable man who sought counsel from pompous lords with snooty wives who drank too much, had affairs, and named their children ostentatious names like Bertrand and Madeleine. “I'm trying, Connie.”
“I know, that's what makes this so hard.” He reached out to cup her cheek, the pad of his thumb gently brushing aside the tears that had started to fall. She leaned into the touch, savoring every moment. She felt the panic melting away and her breathing regulating. “I love you,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. “Please remember that.”
“I..I love you too.”
He pressed a warm kiss against her cheek before stepping back. “Bastian,” he called, his voice breaking with emotion. The panic rushed back, her eyes darting wildly to the door. It quietly opened and the familiar figure of her husband's personal guard appeared. She started to beg him for answers but stopped herself when Bastian firmly but gently took her arm. The day she had always feared had finally come. He had realized everyone else had been right about her: she wasn't cut out to be queen. She'd always thought their love would win out over his obligations to the crown, but she'd been wrong. “I hereby denounce our marriage on the grounds of...” The rest of his words sunk beneath the roar filling her ears. She didn't need to hear his reasons for casting her aside; they were demons she dealt with on a daily basis. It wasn't until he brought up their son the reality of what he was doing sunk in.”...Cordonian monarchy shall retain full custody of the Crown Prince.”
“No, no, no!” Shaking her head, she stumbled towards him, her fingers reaching out to grasp the front of his sweater. His body stiffened before he gathered her close. She felt him bury his face in her hair, his mouth murmuring gentle words that would have soothed her any other time. “Don't do this Connie,” she begged. “Please. I'll be better. I swear I will. I'll even have another baby if that's what you want. Just please...don't do this. Don't take Leo from me.”
“I have no choice,” he choked before gently moving her towards Bastian. “I swear Deli, if I did...if I did...I'd move mountains.”
A/N: Another silly request from a kind anon. I’ll bold/italicize the prompt.
Tagging: @darley1101
—
Emmeline huffs as she goes through the correspondence over breakfast, across the table from her husband, Ernest Sinclaire. More and more RSVPs to their annual dinner party came in. Their closest friends had answered quickest and now trickled in the responses for people they had invited out of obligation. Today she received correspondence from both her stepmother and Miss Holloway.
I know I've been pretty absent for most of the year, and for those of you that still reach out, I can't tell you how much I love and appreciate you. ❤❤
I did some soul searching during the last year, trying to pinpoint when and why Tumblr went from a place that gave me so much joy and fulfillment to a place that filled me with anxiety and dread. What I realized is that I'm an old-school Tumblr girl. When I started here, this fandom was a small and tightknit community, and we were all pretty supportive of one another. We had scheduled "Sleepovers" where we all got together and played silly games and got to know each other. But sometime in the last couple of years, things have changed. The old-timers like me started to drop out, and a new influx of fans came in. Which was great! The fandom needed a little kick in the ass.😋
But then, the "epic reblog" began. At first, it was amazing! To have someone so excited about your work that they left lengthy reblogs, quoting their favorite passages until the reblog was almost as long as the fic itself. It was so validating!
But of course, when you get a reblog like that, you feel compelled to reciprocate. Eventually, it became exhausting. I found myself spending more time reblogging a fic than I spent actually reading it.
And writing??? Who had time to do that anymore? 😔
Suddenly, reading fics and leaving these epic reblogs became draining and time consuming, and I just didn't have the energy for it. So I stopped reading. Then, I stopped writing because if I wasn't reading anyone else, why the hell should they read me? That's not fair.
So... Getting to the point of this long-winded post 😋 I'd like to come back to this fandom. I miss you guys. I miss interacting with you, and I miss writing. But I won't lie; coming back fills me with anxiety. The last thing I want to do is offend people by not leaving these long reblogs, which have now become the norm.
So, this is my disclaimer.
I will start reading again, but my reblogs will be old school. GIFS and cheering, and telling you what I loved, but I won't be quoting every other paragraph. I won't be "epic reblogging". That does not in any way mean that I don't love your work...it just means that for me to enjoy reading again, I need to focus on what's important... your story.
That being said, I'm also planning to start writing again this year. And I want you to enjoy the process as well. So I don't want you to feel compelled to leave extensive reblogs for me either. This goes both ways. ❤ I'm just trying to alleviate the stress and bring back some of the fun and joy this fandom used to hold for me.
So if you want off my taglist because of this, I TOTALLY understand. Just give me a shout. ❤
Characters belong to Pixelberry, MC Ella Brooks belongs to me; I do not authorize anyone to copy paste and or use my moodboards or stories on tumblr or any other website.
Summary: The gang finds out Ella’s secret.
A/N: If you haven’t read The Loft, all you need to know is that this AU is based on the show New Girl and it is sooooo far from canon. What is canon? LOL and I took a scene out of the show How I Met Your Mother because … that’s also a hilarious show. I hope you enjoy!
A/N2: Participating in @wackydrabbles this week (holy shit I feel like I haven’t written anything in years) so the prompt will be in bold.
Thank you @alyssalauren @burnsoslow @ofpixelsandscribbles for reading through this and watching that stupid video this is based on LOL love you!
Warnings: adult language; sexual innuendos; the gang craziness; alluding to actor/singer LL Cool J; mentioning of actor Alan Thicke because he was Canadian (may he rest in peace).
Notes: I was going to write a different fic, but I quite like this one better. It's a canon divergent AU that touches on what might have been or what could have been. Enjoy!! Song to listen to if you're so inclined is La Danse Macabre (you can find it on YT). Merry FicMas! I kinda went the fluff horror route.
You never thought you'd be here. Again. Time is a loop, and it's repeating itself every time you made a bad choice. It bends, upwards and inwards, and rewinds. Back to the moment -- to that moment -- and you're left standing there all over again with a drink in your hand, wondering what you did wrong, and how to move forward.
"Are you all right?" He's standing at your back, not even touching you, and yet you can feel his presence. It's warm. Comforting. Familiar as an old pair of cozy slippers.
It's snowing in Cordonia, and you are not "all right".
•••
The clock freezes at exactly 220am. You bolt upright, frantically smashing at your phone, trying to turn the alarm off. 220am is the exact time the Titanic sank. Only the RMS Carpathia responded to her calls for help.
She was the boat that was "too big to sink". Rather like your life here.
Only sink it did.
They both did.
There's a sort of poetry in that.
•••
"Are you quite all right, my lady?"
You turn around this time. Though he's comfortable and familiar to you (you've danced this dance a thousand times before), you're no one to him.
Not yet, anyway.
You smooth your hands down the front of your borrowed dress, the floor of the ballroom gleams like a mirror. You remember another, older time, when you danced in the Hall of Mirrors at the palace of the Sun King. You were young, then -- but then, you have always been young, and beautiful, and desired by kings and jesters alike.
This is not, after all, the first time you have been to Cordonia.
"Je vais bien. I am fine." You lay a hand on the prince's arm and tilt your head coquettishly up at him. He swallows, once, pushing one smooth finger between his neck and collar. You think to yourself that the vein in his neck will taste so lovely, like golden ichor.
No. No. That is the wrong choice. For you remember...
The longest night, and what came after. Your prince, his head rolling off his neck like a red ribbon had been untied from it. And time bent and unwound, just like a ribbon...
"It is only that you seem so pale tonight, my dove." The prince holds out his hand. "Come and dance with me, and while away the long dark."
You cannot remember the last time you felt the sun's dying rays upon your skin. For it is the longest night of the year, when darkness turns to light, and your death inches closer and closer with each turning of the sun. "Qui n’avance pas, recule."
"That is a pretty saying, and it has much truth in it." White teeth flash in a tanned face, leonine curls kissed by the sun. "I am Leo, prince of this godforsaken rock, and I feel as if I can never move forward beyond it."
If only he knew.
"Men make plans, and the gods laugh." You pout prettily, but do not show your sharp teeth. After all, this is the game you must play, and play it you shall, until you can escape. He twirls you in a fast waltz, as if to catch you out, but you know the steps by heart. For you are a goddess yourself, after a fashion.
"What is your desire?" You ask it, but you know it. It is to escape. It is his only desire.
Such stilted, formal language. The ballroom spins, effortlessly. For a moment it could be another time, another place, when princes and jesters alike made plots to topple the throne. Kayden and Lunabelle... Percival and Annalisa... Memory fades, and only the living remain.
But you are not living, not quite.
(Your heart has not beat for over six centuries.)
"Look up." Leo points. "Mistletoe."
"For kissing under, or for wishing under?" You have come to a rest. Outside, the sky is dark as the tomb, and you see a star go streaking across the western horizon. This is different. This did not happen before. You look up. Mistletoe.
A kiss, a wish, they are all the same.
You will open your eyes, and it will be 220am again. You will put on your red dress, the one that reminds you of the dress you wore when you met Adam. You will dance with a prince, and taste the golden ichor in his veins. Together, you will rule this miserable rock for a thousand years of Night.
You have been many things in your many lifetimes. You have been a pirate and an adventurer, an assassin ... and a queen.
You step closer. You can hear Leo's heart beating rapidly in his chest. This prince smells of olive trees, and if you close your eyes you are standing before a house with a blue door, breeze moving softly through the leaves. "Quand on a pas ce que l’on aime, il faut aimer ce que l’on a."
Leo bends his head, and kisses you. The pressure of his mouth is firm and demanding. You open your mouth and taste the wine on his tongue. Sensations explode. You can hear his thoughts (they are for nothing but your lips), and the thrumming of his heart pumping ichor to his veins. He pulls back, his eyes drunk with memory, your memory, his memory, one that never existed except in a single second, a single kiss. "Serafine?"
Your name is enough to break the spell.
He takes your hand, past whispering courtiers, and takes you to bed. A thousand years pass in the longest night. His mouth on your mouth. The ichor that fizzles in your veins. You are gods. You will live and love forever. Qui vivra verra.
Time is a loop. It bends, upwards and inwards, and rewinds. The moment lasts a single instant, and then it is gone. The mistletoe twirls in the breeze as the stars streak across the sky in the longest night.
Serafine Dupont wakes up. It is 221am.
She smiles.
--
Translated phrases:
Qui n’avance pas, recule > "Who does not move forward, recedes”.
Quand on a pas ce que l’on aime, il faut aimer ce que l’on a > "When one doesn’t have the things that one loves, one must love what one has".
A/N: You might need to read my other Bryce x MC fics to understand my MC's family but here's the gist. She's from Chicago, IL and her family is huge, and a little crazy at times but they are all extremely close. This was written for the 12 Days of Ficmas event (2021) and a GIANT thank you to our lovely hosts, @leelee10898 and @emichelle. The prompt I was assigned is- Advent Calendar.
Rating: Mature, but sfw.
********************
If Bryce had known what he was going to find during his eight am tumor removal, he wouldn’t have gone in at six to work out with the boys. Two additional tumors turned the scheduled two-hour surgery into six, forcing the following ones to be pushed back or rescheduled. A small, quick lunch because Kayla reminded him she had dinner in the slow cooker at home and he was back at it. By the time he changed out of his scrubs and showered at work, he’d been there just shy of thirteen hours and had only eaten an apple and a protein bar.
Standing at the kitchen counter in the large, upscale two-bedroom apartment he shared with his girlfriend, Bryce watched the condensation drizzle across the glass lid of the slow cooker. He’d been looking forward to Kayla’s pot roast all day. The smell had his stomach rumbling as soon as they walked in the door together after work; only to be told she had to add the potatoes and carrots and it would be another thirty to forty-five minutes. After she added them, she marched into their bedroom talking about taking a ‘quick’ shower. That was forever ago, at least.
How much was one man supposed to endure?
Another rumble of his empty stomach had him unlatching and lifting the lid, making the mouthwatering steam drift up his nose. Taking a deep sniff, he let it envelop his senses; beef, onions, garlic, and were those mushrooms she added too? One little taste. Just one little taste would tide him over until the veggies were done. She probably wouldn’t even notice.
Taking a fork out of the cutlery drawer, he moved the uncooked potatoes and carrots to the side, thinking his best bet for not getting caught was to take a chunk from the end of the roast. The fork cut through the meat like butter. Too late to turn back, he dipped the meat into the cooking liquid to sop up all the flavor before shoving the too hot to eat bite into his mouth. Closing his eyes in bliss, he savored the succulent bite, so tender it almost melted in his mouth.
“You’re ridiculous.” His girlfriend’s voice sounded to his left, between the living room and kitchen.
“You took too long,” he said with his mouth full, sucking in air to cool off the food burning the shit out of his mouth.
“I left you alone for like, fifteen minutes.” She walked over wearing yoga pants and a fitted white v-neck, fresh-faced and make-up-free after her shower, scrunching her wet hair with a towel.
“Felt like an hour,” Bryce mumbled, taking another chunk of meat off the roast. “These potatoes are still hard.”
“I bet they are.” Slinging the towel over her shoulder, she bent over to select a bottle of wine from the wine rack he’d installed in one of the lower cabinets. “They’ve only been in there fifteen minutes.”
Unable to resist the temptation of her gorgeous ass in tight pants bent over in front of him, Bryce gave it a smack, making her stand up and yelp as he gave it a firm squeeze. Pulling her tight against him, he gave her a hard kiss before letting go to get the corkscrew out of the drawer while she took two wine glasses out of the cabinet behind them. “The doorman brought up some boxes while you were in the shower,” he told her as he opened the red wine she picked. “Two big ones from your mom and another two from either your dad or your brother. It just says Sean Donovan, but the address is different from your mom’s, so I’m not sure. I put them over by the tree.”
“Oh my God! They’re finally here!” She grabbed a steak knife from the knife block and ran off into the living room, shouting over her shoulder. “Pour that wine and get your tight ass in here! And put the cover back on the slow cooker!”
“Not a good idea to run with knives in fuzzy socks on hardwood floors!” Shaking his head, he poured the two glasses, covered the slow cooker, and followed her into the living room where she was plugging in their Christmas tree, expertly decorated with white lights and a color scheme of blue and silver. “What’s finally here?” he asked, setting her glass on the coffee table as she went at the smaller of the two boxes like a serial killer.
“My ‘advent calendar’ gifts. Remember? We all buy each other four stocking stuffers, my mom collects them, then divides them into individual boxes. Then we each have one gift to open from December 1st to Christmas.” She opened her other box and gestured with the point of the knife at his boxes before handing it to him. “I told you about it last year.”
“Oh, yeah.” He nodded, taking the knife to slice open his boxes. “Why do I have gifts, though?”
“I guess you graduated when we moved in together. My mom told me you were included this year, but I figured I’d get your stuff your first time. Better to ease into these things.”
Bryce never had a good relationship with his parents, and though he and Keiki had gotten closer in recent years, the age gap when they were younger didn’t do them any favors. Being so completely accepted by the Donovans even before he asked for her parent’s blessing showed him how it really felt to be part of a family. “I would have done it. Did you get good stuff?” he asked, sitting on the floor beside her.
“Of course I got good stuff. And I think what you meant to say was, thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to do that for me, Kayla. I really appreciate how thoughtful you are and I love you for eternity. You should feel lucky, Meghan didn’t get invited ‘til she and Sean got married.”
“I do feel lucky and thank you, Kayla. I love you for eternity and all that other stuff too,” he replied, setting his glass beside hers on the table. “How do we do this thing?”
“The boxes were late, so we have eight to open to catch up. They’ll be in the box from my mom, but Sean’s has his home address on it, which means he didn’t want to be bothered getting four separate gifts and did something on his own. Bet my mom ripped him a new one for ‘ruining the tradition’. Let’s do his first.”
Tearing open the bubble wrap inside, Bryce pulled out a heavy box. “I got a beer a day advent calendar box filled with bottles from different Midwest breweries. Nice!”
“Me too. Well, no one ever accused my oldest brother of being creative.” She took a sip of wine and pushed her box of beer to the side. “Let’s each blindly reach into the box and choose one at random. Then we open them together and show each other what we got.”
“Sounds fun.” Bryce got up to drag the larger boxes closer and sat back down. Reaching into his box as Kayla did the same, he pulled one wrapped in nativity paper from the top.
“That one’s from my gran,” Kayla said, pointing at his gift. “She always uses religious paper.” They tore open their gifts at the same time. “I got a set of blue kitchen towels from my sister-in-law Meghan.”
“Beef sticks and cheese curds from somewhere called Mars Cheese Castle,” Bryce paused, grimacing down at the package. “When did your mom ship these?”
“Oh, no… no, no, no…” Kayla shook her head and took a large gulp of wine, then another. “If Gran went to Mars Cheese Castle on her way to Milwaukee, I guarantee she also went to the porn shop on the other side of I-94.”
Bryce rested his chin on his hand, finger curled across his lips as he narrowed his eyes at her. “I feel like there’s a lot to unbox here; first, what the hell is a Mars Cheese Castle, second, why does your grandma go to Milwaukee often enough you know her stops along the way, and third, I’m both shocked and not at all surprised one of those stops is a porn shop on the freeway.”
“It’s a cheese shop in Wisconsin that legit looks like a small castle.” Laughing, she got up and walked into the kitchen, continuing to talk along the way. “Gran is originally from Milwaukee, so she goes a couple of times a year to catch up with old friends and get into mischief.” She returns with the bottle of wine, refills their glasses, and sits back down. “Anyway, be warned there may be some… interesting gifts in there from Gran.”
“If she’s from Milwaukee, how did she meet your grandpa?”
“At some church dance a friend of his dragged him to. He was leaning against the wall trying to look hip and kept staring at her. Eventually, she marched up to him and said, ‘You gonna gawk at me all night, Pretty Boy, or are you going to ask me to dance?’ They dated for a while, exchanging letters and phone calls, a few dates when he went up to see her, but that didn’t stop her from going on dates with her other ‘suitors’. She says you never know ‘those boys’ intentions and a gals gotta keep her options open until there’s a ring on her finger. Soon as she graduated high school, there was a ring on her finger and the rest is history.”
Bryce laughed. “I have to admit, I can’t imagine your grandma married to one man all those years. What was he like?”
“He was really great.” Eyes glistening, she gave him a shaky smile. “He was a lot like my dad. Quiet until you got to know him, always trying to teach us stuff like how to change our oil and measure twice and cut once. Gran is feisty but don’t let her fool you. They adored each other. He’s been gone ten years and every family holiday she still lights a candle in front of a picture of them in my parent’s living room, gives it a kiss, and says, miss you, old man.” Brushing away a tear that fell from her eye, she reached back into the box. “Let’s open the next one.”
Slinging his arm across her shoulders, he pulled her into a one-armed hug. “I wish I could have met him,” he said against her hair before pressing a kiss to her head.
“Me too,” she sniffled as he let go and got another gift.
As they opened the next gifts; hand-knitted scarves from her mom, his in forest green and hers in cobalt blue, peppermint foot cream for him and anti-aging face masks for her from her sister Brianna, a homemade silver glitter ornament for her, and a multi-tool for him from her younger brother Owen, Kayla explained the dynamic each person contributed.
“My mom always gives practical gifts and my dads are always super generic. We’re supposed to include two extra gifts a year ‘just in case'. In case of what, I’m not sure, but it’s resulted in a box full of extra random things. My dad just grabs whatever from the box and puts someone’s name on it.”
Bryce held up his latest gift. “Is that why I got this pen with glitter in it but if you turn it upside down a naked lady appears?”
“Yep.” Kayla laughed. “And why I got these fuzzy slipper socks. Though, I do love them so sometimes it works out. Owen’s gifts usually have something to do with art or tinkering and since Brianna started cosmetology school, everything she gives is beauty or self-care related.” Reaching into the box for the sixth time, she pulled out one wrapped in the nativity paper. “Ooh, I got a gran gift.”
“I have this somewhat large square, which I think is a book.” He tore open the gift from her closest brother Connor and read the title, “The Midwest Survival Guide by Charlie Berens.” Paging through it, he continued, “When you said stocking stuffers I expected like, kit-kats and lifesavers, not actual gifts, gifts.”
“There’s probably stuff like that in here too,” she answered, opening her gift. “Really the only rule is it has to fit in a stocking.”
He raised his eyebrows and held up the book, making her laugh.
“Well, no one said how big the stocking was.” Smirking, she lifted her hand to show him a pair of fuzzy red handcuffs dangling from her finger. “Told you there’d be some interesting choices from Gran.”
“Have I ever told you how much I love your gran? Because I love your gran.”
“Two more,” she said, reaching in again and opening the package. “Nice! Connor got me Irish Cream truffles.” She offered him one and when he shook his head, she shrugged and took a bite. “Whatcha get?”
“A bottle of Proper Twelve whiskey, also from Connor. Geez, he doesn’t mess around with the gifts, does he?”
“Connor always gets me my favorite stuff. I’m guessing since he doesn’t know you very well yet, he either got stuff he thought you’d appreciate or stuff he likes himself. Last one for the night. You ready?” she asked.
“On the eighth day of Christmas, my girlfriend’s family gave to me...” Closing his eyes, he dug deeper into the box. “Yes! Another Gran gift!” Under the wrapper, he found a slender bottle of pink liquid with a piece of paper affixed with a rubber band blocking the label. Taking off the note, he unfolded it to read what it said and saw what was beneath. “Kayla…”
“Another one from Connor, a bottle of Rumchata.”
“Babe…”
“Have you ever had it? You can serve it alone over ice, or mix it with amaretto, so friggin’ good.”
“Kayla.”
“What?” she asked, looking up at him. “Are you ok? You look… weird.”
He thrust the bottle of pink liquid into her hands.
Looking down at it, she snorted and clamped her hand over her mouth.
“I… don’t know how to feel about this,” he stated.
She stared at him with wide eyes for a few seconds before the giggles escaped her lips. “What? You didn’t want a bottle of edible massage oil from my sweet little eighty-year-old grandmother for Christmas?”
“Oh, that’s not all, there’s a note.” Bryce cleared his throat and began to read, “Dear Bryce, I didn’t know what flavor to get you but everyone likes strawberry. This brand is really tasty so you might be tempted to just drink it. Don’t. It will give you the shits. If you spill some on your sheets, don’t worry, it comes out real nice in the wash. The oil, not the shit. For that you might need a laundry booster. I make my own so if you ever need any just let me know and I’ll have Sean send it from the shop. I hope you and Kayla are doing well. Love, Gran.”
Unable to control her laughter, Kayla let it all out and flopped down on her back onto the floor. “Oh my God, I’m dead. This is the best thing I’ve ever heard.”
“She has really nice handwriting, but how am I supposed to use this on you without picturing your grandma taste-testing edible oil in a porn shop off the highway?”
She laughed harder still. “Just drink some of the whiskey from Connor first, you’ll be fine.”
“I need more wine,” he said, pouring the rest of the bottle into his glass as he also began to laugh at the hilarity of the situation. “So, this was fun. I can’t wait to see a chaotic Donovan Christmas in person someday but damn, am I glad I didn’t open that in front of your whole family.”
“Chaotic is right, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.” Rolling onto her side, she propped her head up in one hand while wiping tears from her flushed face with the other. “What was Christmas like at your house?”
Bryce scoffed. “Nothing like yours. Picture a Hallmark movie without the happiness. Catered dinner, a Martha Stewart tablescape, a mountain of presents that cost a fortune of other people’s money but had no thought to them. My parents were all about the appearance of the perfect happy family when, in reality, we were anything but. Don’t get me wrong, we never wanted for anything. We had the best life money could buy, but I would have killed for a fraction of the warmth and love your family has.”
“Well, now you have it,” she said, giving him a soft smile.
“Yeah, I do.” Returning her grin, he got down on all fours to give her a kiss. Pulling back, he looked at her beautiful face and his mind drifted to the diamond ring hidden in his sock drawer. He just needed to find the perfect moment to ask her. Maybe next time they were in Chicago, so her family could be there. If he could wait that long. “I fucking love you. And your crazy family.”
“I love you too, and I’m glad. I know they can be a lot sometimes.”
“Nothing’s too much if it means I get to be with you.” He kissed her again. “Let’s go eat before we dip into Connor’s whiskey.” He pulled her up with him and led her into the kitchen by the hand, winking as he said, “For dessert, we'll both have a taste of the strawberry massage oil.”
Yaas! Here it is, ladies and gentlemen, THE CHEESE CASTLE.
So, funny story. The last I visited mars cheese castle (and the porn shop) was just before the covid shutdown. I can't remember when that was because I feel like we've been living like this for fifteen years.
Anywho, we went to the cheese shop because we heard they had good bloody marys. They don't. Very basic, yet still tasty, which is also the reason we went to the porn shop after where I bought myself a new vibrator.
Best (and funniest) part was on the way home, I decided to open up said vibrator to check out the different settings. Picture me saying, "Ooh check out this one" to my friend and placing it on her arm while she was driving. Good times, good times. 🤣
Fictmas readers: This is my first submission for 12 days of Fictmas! I'm excited to get to participate this year and can't wait to see what prompt I get next year. My prompt was Day 4: Christmas Dinner and I kind of let it get away from me. Hopefully I managed to do the event and crew justice. This has not been BETA read or approved by anyone besides myself - so forgive any mistakes.
A/N2: I was going to add this to When We Were Wallflowers, but I feel like it works best as a stand alone. Let’s just pretend it’s an alternate universe ending where Autumn’s Awakening didn’t happen after Summer’s Night Dream.
A/N3: thank you @karahalloway for the jumper idea, it was the funniest part to me.
Inspiration music: The Christmas Song - Catherine Feeny
The rest of my Permatags: @saivilo @shewillreadyou @petiteboheme @walkerdrakewalker @differenttyphoonwerewolf @choicesficwriterscreations
Lily glanced at the clock then back towards the table that wasn’t set and rubbed her forehead while groaning. Bertrand and Savannah were due in any minute and the turkey still wasn’t done. Liam had been invited, but he wasn’t going to be able to make it this year. It was hard to get the king on Christmas during the years it wasn’t his turn to host the family dinner. At least this year Savannah and Bertrand would be able to join them, unlike years before.
Maxwell stood next to her in the kitchen, humming a Christmas tune and dancing in his ugly jumper. Per tradition, Hana bought everyone ugly jumpers for dinner. Drake never wore the one given to him, but that didn’t stop Hana from getting him one every year just to tease him with it. Maxwell’s was a red jumper with an ungodly assortment of white Christmas themed designs. Across the middle it had, in bold black letters “Merry Squidmas” that looked suspiciously like an aftermarket addition.
She bumped him with her hip then set the potatoes to simmer and went over to start setting the table up. She had all the plates and napkins set out perfectly by the time Drake came into the room carrying Jack.
“Here, take him and let me set the table.” He offered, stopping beside her.
Lily glanced at him. “I’m almost done.”
“And you’re stressing out. Go sit down for a second and hold our son.”
“Yes, we can set the table.” Hana added, pulling the box of cutlery from her hands.
Before she could protest again - Drake deposited Jack in her arms.
“I don’t have time to sit Drake. I have a million and one things to do to make this perfect.”
Drake smiled softly and kissed her forehead. “It doesn’t have to be perfect. Go sit and let Jack put a smile on your face… Now.”
“Okaaay.”
She carried Jack over to the Christmas tree and sat on the floor with him. His bright green eyes stared up at the twinkling lights - completely entranced by them. Lily smiled softly and picked up two of the decorations and held one up for him to look at.
“Look Jack. It’s a snowman. Can you say ‘snowman’?”
“He’s a little far off from talking, Lily.” Maxwell chuckled across the room.
“I know, but if we’re in good practice of talking to him this way, it’ll be second nature when he starts.”
Jack babbled as he reached out and smacked the snowman with a wide smile. Lily gasped with a smile then danced the snowman across the ground towards him. While playing with Jack she listened to the others bustling around the house, fighting the urge to jump up and take over. She knew they could handle it, especially with Hana running the show.
“Oh!” Hana gasped loudly. “I almost forgot!”
Lily watched her hurry over to the front door where she picked up two decorated boxes. Hana carried them over and knelt down next to Lily and held the top box out to her. Lily grinned and quickly opened the box to reveal a white and red Christmas sweater very similar to the one Hana wore. Hana’s had giant bells sewn to it with “Don we now our fun apparel” in a swoop across her body. Every move she made filled the air with the sound of sleigh bells. Instead of bells, Lily’s had a large llama with a scarf taking up half of the front.
“I love it!” Lily laughed.
“Yeah, and Drake’s matches mine.” Maxwell added giving his red and white sweater a pat.
“I’m not wearing a jumper. I have my blazer on, be happy with that.”
“Oh come on,” Lily whined, “it’s tradition!”
“It’s your tradition.” Drake scoffed while rolling his eyes. “I never have and never will wear one of those ridiculous things.”
He walked over to them and sat down on Jack’s other side.
“I’ll keep an eye on him so you can change. But I’m not putting that thing on.”
Lily narrowed her eyes and poked his nose. “Fine, Scrooge.”
“I like to think of myself more as a Grinch than a Scrooge.”
“You would.” She laughed and stood up with her sweater. “Talk some sense into him Hana.”
She carried the sweater back into the bedroom and quickly changed into it and a pair of leggings. Once dressed, she hung her dress back up and walked out to see Savannah, Bertrand and Bartie walking in the door. Bartie quickly darted off to Jack’s room where he knew the box of toys was stashed away for him. Bertrand brushed a bit of snow off his shoulder and sat the container of miniature pecan pies on the counter next to Hana’s vegetable medley.
“You guys are just in time!” Hana laughed and held a large box out towards Savannah. “This one’s for you all.”
“Aww, thanks Hana.” Savannah smiled and opened the box. “Matching jumpers?”
“Yep!” Lily gestured at her sweater then towards Maxwell. “‘Tis the season and all that tom foolery. We’ve done it every year.”
“You want me to wear that?” Bertrand scoffed as Savannah pulled a green Christmas sweater from the box. “Absolutely not. Look at that typo-”
“What’s wrong with it?” Hana’s smile fell. “I tried to get one as close to your typical sweater.”
“Nothing’s wrong with it!” Savannah elbowed Bertrand. “Right Bertrand? Tell your sister-in-law there’s nothing wrong with her gift.”
Bertrand tried to force a smile which only looked like a grimace. “Of course. There’s nothing wrong with it… I’ll go put it on promptly. After all, everyone is wearing one.”
“Not everyone.” Drake scoffed as he stood up, still in a blazer.
“Wha-!” Bertrand scoffed with raised eyebrows. “Why does he get to opt out of participating in this ridiculousness?”
“Because I’m not a Beaumont.” Drake snickered.
“You’re married to one! And your sister is one as well!”
“My ID and all my permits say Walker, as do Lily’s. Technically she doesn’t need to dress up either-”
“But I love to wear matching sweaters with Hana!” Lily cut him off, looping her arm through Hana’s. "It was my idea after all."
“Come on Bertrand, just put the jumper on.” Maxwell groaned. “It’s not that big a deal.”
“I will if Drake does. It’s only fair.”
All eyes turned to Drake who widened his eyes and shook his head.
“No. Hell no,” he snorted. “You got me fucked up if you think I’m agreeing with that.”
“Drake.” Lily and Savannah hissed at the same time.
Drake glanced down at Jack and Bartie a few feet away and cast Lily an apologetic smile. “I forgot, I’m working on it. But I’m not wearing that jumper.”
“Don’t be a spoilsport big bro!” Savannah laughed as she walked over to wave her sleeve in his face. “Dress up with your family.”
“I am dressed up.” He tugged on the lapels of his blazer.
“I know what’ll win him.” Lily whispered to Hana.
While Drake was busy bickering with Savannah, she slipped around them and crouched down next to Bartie who was now playing with toy trains next to Jack. She folded the extra sweater in her lap and rolled one of the trains in front of Jack.
“Hey Bartie.”
He lifted his eyes to her but his hands didn’t stop playing. “Yes Aunt Lily?”
“I need you to go and beg your uncle to put this sweater on.”
“Why?”
“Well,” she narrowed her eyes conspiratorially, “because he reeeeeally wants to wear it, but he thinks he’s too cool to come right out and just put it on for himself. And if he doesn’t wear his then your dad won’t wear his, and we all want to see your dad in a silly sweater right?” She glanced over her shoulder at Drake who had turned to look out the window, Savannah still pestering him.
Bartie let out a small laugh and nodded. “Yes, I would love to see that.”
“Okay, great. If you say you want Uncle Drake to wear it, he’ll have a really good excuse to put it on.”
Bartie crinkled his nose in thought, his eyes drifting over to Drake then back to her. “Are you sure he wants to wear it?”
“Oh yeah.” She nodded, “Just ask, he won’t argue with you about it.”
“Can I have a piece of cake if I do?”
Lily grinned at six year old's negotiation skills.
“You got it buddy.”
“Okay.”
Bartie grabbed the sweater and walked over to Drake and tugged on his arm. “Uncle Drake?”
Drake looked down at him with a raised eyebrow, “What’s up buddy?”
“I think it would be really cool if you wore a matching jumper with Uncle Maxwell.”
“Oh yeah?” Drake glanced over at Lily who made a point of keeping her attention on Jack and the trains between them.
“Yes. Nothing is cooler than getting in the holiday spirit.”
“Hmm… I wonder where you heard that from.”
“Aunt Lily says it every year!”
“Ah, that’s right.” Drake chuckled and tapped Bartie on the nose. “Fine, but only because I can’t say no to you kid.”
“Great!” Bartie cheered. “Now we’re all in pairs.”
Drake grabbed the sweater and started for the bedroom. He stopped halfway across the house and turned his narrowed eyes towards Maxwell.
“If you take any pictures of me in this thing… You’re dead.”
Maxwell opened his mouth to protest then shut it and nodded. “Fine. You get to be the cameraman then.”
“Fine.”
Thirty minutes later the turkey was finally done and everyone sat around the table. Lily held Jack while Drake cut the turkey then passed him off to distribute the meat. Every time she glanced at Drake in his sweater she couldn’t help but crack a smile. She tried her best not to laugh at him, especially since Maxwell doubled over cackling as soon as he walked out with it on - causing Drake to nearly rip the thing right off. It was almost identical to Maxwell’s in the chaotic Christmas pattern, but in the center of his chest was the image of reindeer roasting marshmallows over a campfire. Lily made a mental note to fish it out of the trash once everyone was gone and Drake had gone to bed - no way was she letting him get rid of that masterpiece.
“I want the legs!” Maxwell yelled.
“You can’t claim both legs.” Drake grumbled.
“Sure I can. I’m a growing boy.”
“You are thirty one years of age Maxwell. You haven’t grown a day past your eighteenth birthday.” Bertrand snipped while tucking a napkin in Bartie’s sweater. “Do try not to get food all over you this time.”
“Yes sir.” Bartie said while licking his lips.
Lily bit back a smile - the sight of Bertrand in a 'Chemistree' sweater with a large pixelated tree smack in the middle almost broke her reserve. She could hold her teasing of Drake back until they were alone, but she was unsure if she could grant the same courtesy to Bertrand. After passing out the turkey and ham Lily made Drake’s plate since his hands were still busy with Jack.
The table bustled with life and laughter, ten different conversations going at once while Bartie stuffed his face.
“Really?” Savannah covered a laugh as she stared across the table at Maxwell who gave her a smug smile.
“What can I say? I’m a bit of a rebel.”
Bertrand rolled his eyes and shoved a carrot in his mouth to keep himself quiet.
“For the last time Maxwell, running up a down elevator doesn’t make you a rebel.” Drake grumbled after giving Jack a piece of turkey.
“Or does it?” Maxwell waggled his eyebrows with a shit-eating grin.
“No!” Hana laughed.
“It makes you an asshole.” Drake added under his breath.
Maxwell huffed while swirling the wine around in his glass. “Way to stomp on my dreams.”
“It’s okay Pin, I think you’re a visionary.” Lily winked at him which made him smirk at Drake.
“Ha!”
“Pfft, whatever. She always takes your side.”
“Not every time.”
“Close e-fuckin-nough.”
“Don’t be such a Grinch.” Lily teased as she reached over to poke him in the cheek.
“I’m the Grinch.” Drake growled as he chomped his teeth towards her finger playfully.
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Savannah laughed.
“What is a grinch?” Bertrand asked her under his breath.
“We’ll watch the movie when we get home.”
“Yay!” Bartie shouted. “I get to watch the Grinch movie!”
“I think Drake could totally pull off the Grinch.” Maxwell said around a mouthful of yams. “He’s already got the scowl down, all he needs is the green hairy knuckles.”
“Ha. Ha.” Drake scoffed.
“He can be a bit of a sour puss.” Hana added, cutting her eyes at Drake.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m a real Debby Downer.”
“Well, you know the Grinch’s heart did grow three sizes that day.” Lily added while giving Jack a bite of steamed squash.
“And what day was that?” Drake asked as he turned to raise an eyebrow at her.
“Christmas day.” She grinned up at him.
“I think Drake’s heart grew long before Christmas.” Maxwell laughed.
“I agree. When you visited me in Paris I could already see the change in him, and that was months before Christmas.”
“Yes. He’d been making - what’s the term? Oh yes, heart eyes at you all summer.” Hana giggled.
“Don’t forget how absolutely sour he was on your first Christmas with us.” Bertrand added with a huff. “I’ve never seen anyone so completely unhinged over-”
“We get it!” Drake barked, throwing his hands up. “We get it, let’s not reopen old wounds.”
“You’re the one who said you’re the Grinch.” Lily laughed and rolled her eyes.
“And you’re his Cindy Lou Who.” Maxwell said. “You rekindled that old rust bucket of a heart he has and turned him into a pile of mush.”
“Hey, this pile of mush can still kick your ass.”
“I think that’s a little off putting Max.” Lily grimaced. “Cindy was like ten and the Grinch in his forties.”
Maxwell shrugged. “Eh, Drake’s already our honorary old man. It works.”
“Bertrand is older than me!” Drake scoffed while gesturing down the table.
“Don’t pull me into your foolhardy shenanigans.” Bertrand snapped then cut his eyes at a laughing Savannah. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. You... really are the... old man.” She managed to get out.
“Yeah,” Maxwell huffed, “but Drake’s soul is a decrepit old man so-”
“That’s it.” Drake growled and set Jack in Lily’s lap. “I’m strangling him with this stupid jumper.”
“Hey, don’t take it out on the jumper.” Hana gasped. “I spent a good thirty minutes looking for that jumper specifically for you.”
Maxwell’s mouth dropped open as he stared at his wife. “Really? No love for me, just the jumper?”
“You’ll be fine.”
“Why does everyone always say that?” Maxwell grumbled.
“You’re Maxwell.” Everyone chimed at once causing the table to erupt in thick laughter.
“Guess that’s a fair argument.” He snickered.
“Uncle Maxwell is a klutz.”
“No, no Bartie.” Savannah corrected him. “Aunt Lily is a klutz, Uncle Maxwell’s acts of stupidity are on purpose.
“That’s also fair.” Maxwell sighed.
Drake looked at Lily. “You’re not going to defend yourself?”
Lily shrugged, “she has a point. How many times have you saved me from falling on my face now?”
“Too many to count.”
“Case and point Walker.”
“I hate to backtrack this lovely conversation,” Bertrand piped up, “but I would like to circle back to the topic of ‘old men’.”
When all eyes turned to him, he fidgeted with his sweater.
“Do you all truly consider me an old man?”
“Of course not hunny.” Savannah laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’s just teasing.”
“You don’t have to baby him Savannah.” Maxwell said. “He is the oldest. I mean -”
“Age is relative.” Savannah cut him off.
“You’re just saying that ‘cause he’s almost forty and you’re not even thirty yet.” Drake chuckled.
“How old he is has never bothered me. Not when I was eighteen and not now.”
Drake’s eyebrows shot up.
“Wait, when you were eighteen? How long have you two been-”
“Long enough big brother.” She laughed.
“Don’t inquire about things you don’t wish to know the answers to.” Bertrand said with a slight smirk.
Drake groaned and scrubbed his face, Lily reached over and patted his arm.
“You’ll survive.”
“Yeah.” Maxwell said. “At least you haven’t had to hear him bumping uglies with your sister.”
“Maxwell!” Savannah gasped and glanced over at Bartie who luckily wasn’t paying attention.
“What? You guys weren’t there!”
“Are you going on about his birthday again?” Lily laughed and rolled her eyes.
“Yes, yes I am.”
“You know, for you to say it mortified you - you sure do talk about it a lot.” Drake jabbed.
“I talk about it because my mind is scarred Drake!”
“You should have gone to sleep.”
“I was trying! But the sound of your hips hitting her -”
“Okay! That’s enough.” Lily laughed nervously. “Children at the table.”
“Do you dye your hair Bertrand?” Hana asked after a sip of wine.
Bertrand blinked across the table at her. “Pardon me?”
“I’ve always been curious. You only have a little bit of grey on the sides. Do you dye the rest?”
“I do not.”
Savannah reached over and stroked his hair with a smile. “It just happened this way. Barthelemy greyed in the same fashion, and his father before him. Just wait until yours starts turning.” She pointed at Maxwell. “The Beaumont men are true silver foxes.”
Maxwell scoffed and touched his hair subconsciously. “Nope. I’ll be dyeing mine.”
As dinner wound down Jack ended up falling asleep in Lily’s lap. Drake and Maxwell offered to clear the table so she could lay the baby down for the night. She carried him into her room and laid him down then sat next to him and patted his back. After a few minutes the door creaked open and Bartie tiptoed into the room with a Santa hat on his head and another smaller one in his hands.
“Can I put this on Jack?” He whispered.
“He’s still asleep baby. I can try to get it on him for you though.”
“Okay.”
Bartie handed her the hat then laid down next to Jack and watched her slowly slide the hat onto his head. When Jack didn’t stir Bartie let out a soft giggle and smiled up at her.
“You boys are so cute.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, come on. Let’s let him sleep.”
Lily stood up and held her arms out to Bartie. He crawled over to her then up into her arms.
“You don’t want him in his crib?”
“I thought you might want to play in his room some more, so I brought him in here. Are you getting sleepy?”
Bartie stifled a yawn and shook his head, “no.”
Lily carried him out and sat him on the couch then laid a blanket across his lap. Standing back up, she took a moment to appreciate the sight of her full home. Everyone made quick work of the clean up - she could hardly tell that they had a big meal only moments ago. Drake had busied himself with getting a fire going while the others joked around in the kitchen as they sipped on their wine. Drake finished with the fire and walked over to her and offered a glass of wine. She took it with a smile and took a slow sip, he turned to stand next to her and draped his arm across her shoulders.
“You okay?”
She nodded and leaned into his side. “Yes. My heart is happy.”
“Glad to hear that, Walker.”
She grinned up at him and scrunched her nose when he dropped a kiss on her forehead.
“Hey lovebirds!” Maxwell belted out from the end of the island. “Come on, we’re about to play phase ten!”
“There goes the moment.” Drake mumbled against her skin.
“We have all night to make up for it once they leave.”
Hello one and all! There’s my day 2 submission for the Choices 12 Days of Fictmas (3rd time!! Still blows my mind)
This year's prompt is Minitree. Set in the same AU as Noël Dernier and my Once Upon Another Time fic although you don't need to read either of those to follow along.
Huge, HUGE thanks to @leelee10898 and @emichelle for hosting and to @grenadineandsunshine for the beta (and for hyping me and holding my hand through this)
Book: The Royal Romance
Pairing: Drake x OC, Liam x MC (background)
Rating: G
Warning: some non-explicit kissing (?)
Words: 3188
10:00 am
“What’s in that bag and why are you hiding it here?”
“Hello to you too, Blanchard.”
“Yes, hello Walker. Nice day out, how do you do, etcetera. Now answer the question.”
“Hello, Uncle Drake!”
Drake smiled and shifted the carry-on bag on his shoulder as he crouched to Lucas’ level. Next to her brother, in her little baby carrier, seven-month-old Vivienne gurgled, eyes focusing on him for a moment before deciding that gnawing her hand was her top priority. Drake sent her a fleeting smile before focusing on the eldest Rys child.
“Hey, buddy. All set?”
“Yep!”
In the corner of his eye, he could see Eira Blanchard purse her lips in annoyance. Drake suppressed a smirk. Nice to know some things never changed.
Physically, Drake could admit she hadn’t changed much, either. Eira Blanchard, to his mind, is a perfectly preserved ice sculpture. A perfectly poised ice queen, from her white-blonde hair down to her upturned nose and ice grey eyes. Hell. Even her skin’s pale, a protest against the Mediterranean sun. Who stays that pale in Cordonia? Eira Blanchard, that’s who.
In all honesty, Drake didn’t think he’d ever get to see, let along talk to Blanchard. Not after that Christmas fiasco a few years ago when she turned down Liam’s wedding proposal to pursue a career in international law. But here she stands, nearly a decade later, babysitting Liam’s kids. But why does it have to be with me?
Judging from her down-turned lips, Eira did not want to be here either. Perhaps sensing his eyes finally on her, Blanchard raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. Right, question.
“Angeles sent some last-minute baby supplies.”
Blanchard furrowed her brow. “But we already have the baby supplies?”
Drake shrugged, “Like I said, last minute.”
“Right. Right,” Blanchard muttered; brows still furrowed. Her hand tightened on the handle of Vivienne’s carrier.
Drake tried not to roll his eyes. “It’s fine Blanchard. Angeles is just being paranoid. Mommy-brain and all that.”
“Excuse me?”
Drake clamped his mouth shut. A glance at the Rys siblings assured him they’re not listening.
“Oh, don’t be like that, Blanchard. Look, Vivienne’s a baby and Lucas is – well, he’s bouncy. You know what I mean?”
If she wasn’t holding Vivienne’s carrier, Drake could have sworn she’d be crossing her arms. She’s more than making up for it with that deadpan stare. Typical ice-queen.
Drake sighed as he turned to his office. It’s just for the day. Just for a day. I can survive Eira Blanchard for one day, right?
-
He shifted the bag onto his other shoulder and jiggled the doorknob. A moment later, Eira caught her first glance at Drake Walker’s office. It looked like it should be a spacious room, that is, until the wooden desk near the window did not take umbrage and dominated the entire space. Windows overlooking the driveway let in ample sunlight, warming a small love seat set against the opposite wall next to a mini-fridge. Boxes were stacked in one corner and on the other was a rickety side table supporting a small, barely decorated Christmas tree. A minitree, a part of her mind supplied. It was the only Christmas decoration as far as she can see. A sad minitree then.
“Welcome to my humble abode.”
Lucas, already familiar with Walker’s office, rushed in and settled on the love seat. Eira followed at a more sedate pace, carefully placing Vivienne’s carrier next to her brother.
“Charming.”
“Oh, ha-ha. Not all of us can live in penthouse apartments in High Street.”
“Well, it’s a better sight than this.”
Drake opened his mouth, retort ready, when Vivienne let out a shrill scream. Cheek’s heating, Eira quickly bent over, unbuckling her young charge, and gently setting her down on the carpeted floor. At least that one looks cleaned.
“Right. Office’s been as baby proofed as you can get, floors all cleaned and snacks on the mini-fridge. I think we’re set.”
“Wait – that’s it?”
“Uh—yes?”
Drake scratched at the stubble on his cheek, blinking. Eira pushed away the urge to find a razor. You’re the monarchy’s head of security and you dress like a caveman. Maman would have a fit. Although at least he’s not half-bad looking, I’ll give him that –
Vivienne interrupted that thought with a delighted shriek. A quick glance informed Eira that the little princess had found the minitree with her older brother right behind her.
“Please tell me that’s unplugged.”
Drake snorted from his perch on the love seat. “Please give me some credit, Blanchard. I do have a younger sister.”
“Having a younger sister does not a competent babysitter make.”
“Yeah, like being a spoiled only child makes you an expert?”
Eira felt herself flush.
“I am not a spoiled child.”
“Sure, princess.”
“Vivi’s a princess!”
Bless you, Your Highness.
Eira took a deep breath before turning her back on Drake Walker. Infuriating as he is, this isn’t the time for a confrontation. Liam and Cassandra asked her to take care of their children and by God, she will get this done. Even if it means working with Liam’s abrasive, thoughtless, asinine wannabe cowboy of a best friend, then – well, she wasn’t her father’s protegee for no reason.
Eira crouched next to the little prince and smiled. “Indeed, Your Highness.”
Lucas’ cheeks flushed as he looked down, the action an echo of his father’s embarrassed tick. Eira felt her smile widen. How could a six-year-old be this cute?
“Please call me Lucas. Dad said you don’t have to use titles when you’re with friends.”
Beside her brother, Vivienne let out a giggle. Behind her, Drake coughed. Eira knows enough tact to know it was a laugh. A small thud and plastic rustling behind her made her think that Drake might have opened his mini-fridge. Is his fridge stocked with only alcohol, as Olivia claimed?
“Now, anyone wants some snacks?”
Maybe not? Anyway, it’s just for a day. I can babysit with Drake Walker for a day. How bad can it be?
-
1:40 pm
“That is not how you hold a baby. Who raised you?”
Drake paused from his pacing. Eira would have laughed at his bouncing gait had he been holding Vivienne right.
“How did those parenting books describe it then?”
God, give me strength.
“Oh, for — just give her here.”
“For the last time, she won’t fall asleep with your robotic swinging.”
Lucas looked up from his colouring book, a sparkle in his eye that Eira was learning to be wary of.
“Mommy showed me how to hold Vivi! Can I? Can I? Can I? Please?”
“Uh…”
-
2:55 pm
“She just won’t stop crying, Drake. What do we do?”
“Right. This calls for an emergency drink.”
“This is not the time to indulge Walker!”
“It’s not for me! It’s for Vivienne!”
“Just because she’s teething doesn’t mean you get you bust out your ‘special whiskey’, there’s a minor here!”
“Well, it’s not like I’m going to make Vivienne drink it, Blanchard!”
“If Vivi can’t drink it, can I?”
“No!”
Lucas blinked at their synchronised answer before crossing his arms and pouting.
“Aww…”
-
3:20 pm
The day was not going well.
On the bright side, Vivienne had fallen asleep. Drake’s halfway convinced exhaustion has more to do with it than any of his or Blanchard’s doing.
On the other hand, Blanchard was angry at him.
Drake suppressed a sigh. He could feel another glare from across the room.
Forget angry. Eira Blanchard was pissed at him.
Who knew babysitting techniques would be my cause of death? Still not my fault, little miss bookworm devoured half a dozen parenting books.
A glance at Blanchard’s side of the room blessed him with the sight of Lucas roping Blanchard into playing an intricate game involving a dinosaur and a pair of plushies. Both of them illuminated by the soft twinkling light from the minitree in the corner. It made her hair glow, blonde strands looking magical under the light.
Normally, the sight of the prim and proper Eira Blanchard sitting on the floor surrounded by toys and doing a funny voice would send him in stitches. But contrary to popular belief, Drake Walker actually has some self-preservation instinct. And he’d very much like to get out of this day alive, thank you very much.
“What.”
Drake stiffened. Was I caught?
“What?” he echoed.
Blanchard’s glare somehow became sharper. Drake gulped.
“What’s your problem, Walker?”
“What’s your problem?”
“Ugh!”
“Hey, if you’re embarrassed ---”
“I am not –”
“There’s nothing wrong with playing with a kid –”
“Then why are you staring like –”
“I’m not staring!”
“Yes, you are – you’ve been snide all day, so why don’t you just –”
“Snide? When was I –”
“Don’t fight!”
Drake and Eira whipped around. Lucas was standing near an opened box on the other side of the room. Lucas, now seeing that the adults had finally shut up, repeated himself.
“Please, don’t fight!” His eyes were bright, but Drake can see no tears. There was a set to his jaw that reminded him of Lucas’ mother.
Ah, shit. Cassie’s going to kill me.
“Lucas, we weren’t fighting,” Eira soothed. She stepped away from him and made a move towards Lucas, but the young boy raised his hands, presenting a plastic mistletoe decoration to them.
“You gotta make up!”
Drake groaned.
“Why do you have that?”
“Geez, Blanchard. It’s just a decoration. You should blame Maxwell for this.”
A few weeks ago, possessed by the holiday spirit, Maxwell had taken it upon himself to decorate the offices. Seeing the almost garish result, Drake had taken it upon himself to undecorate. He ended up stuffing the mistletoe in one of the many boxes in the corner. Now, it seemed that Lucas, in his infinite curiosity, and as Maxwell’s assigned protégée, had taken it upon himself to open said box.
“See? Mommy and Daddy use it to make up. So, you can too!”
Uncertain, they turned towards each other.
“Are we really going to play along?”
“Do you have a better idea, Walker?”
Ugh. Fine. Pushover it is.
Drake slowly inched closer, hyperaware of the young eyes following him. Eira was unnervingly still. Now or never.
Desperate to get the moment over with, Drake pressed a swift peck on Eira’s cheek. He leaped back immediately.
It definitely had nothing to do with how soft her skin was. Or how his lips tingled at the brief contact.
“But that’s not how they do it!”
“Lucas—”
“That’s not how Mommy and Daddy kiss!”
Jesus Liam. what have you been showing your kid?
“Mommy doesn’t pull away when Daddy kisses her!”
The fuck were you two doing, Cassie?”
Drake glanced at Eira, a ‘can you believe this’ at the tip of his tongue.
He paused.
And stared.
Eira Blanchard was blushing.
It’s a subtle thing, Drake mused. Nothing like the upfront nature of the ruddy blushes often found within a drink or the flushed red around a friend’s ears. It’s a growing pink, a stark contrast to her pale skin. She looks like she just slipped in from the cold, the pink on her cheek, breathing life into the ice queen and shattering the illusion.
-
“No! Do it again, Uncle Drake! Do it properly!”
Lucas’ words snapped Eira from her daze. Wait – wait what?
Almost in sync, Eira and Drake glanced at each other. Eira could have sworn seeing a hint of panic in Walker’s eyes. Oh, so now you’re scared.
Eira inched closer.
“C’mere Walker.”
Drake’s eyes widened. “What are you—”
“Just—hold still—”
Drake rolled his eyes. “Are we really gonna let a six-year-old boss us around?”
“Right, like you aren’t a total pushover for these kids. Besides, I’d rather suffer through a measly kiss than face Cassandra and tell her we’ve been fighting in front of the children.”
Drake scowled. “Fine, Blanchard. Do your worst.”
Worst?! Eira straightened her back, set her jaw and turned to fully face Drake Walker. You want a kiss? I’ll give you a kiss.
Eira stepped closer.
Drake took a step backwards.
Oh for –
She quickly stepped forward again and before Walker could move, reached up, seizing a handful of his shirt and pulling him to her.
Eira glanced at his face, closer than she had intended, and almost paused. Drake Walker’s eyes held a look that sent a shot of warmth through her. Perhaps it was just the reflection of the twinkling lights behind her. Head becoming a little foggy, she pulled him closer and closer still.
Until his lips met hers.
The first press of their lips together was a fragile affair, losing the heat and aggression so often found in their exchanges with each other. It was a hesitant meeting, a venture into uncharted waters. It was almost frightening how much Eira felt exposed from a brief press of lips.
Slowly and delicately, she pulled back, feeling warm and uncertain all over.
“That all you got, Blanchard?” he breathed, words holding no challenge. Just his voice reaching out and gently coaxing her to back. Almost an unspoken invitation.
Eira raised an eyebrow. Well, never let it be said that I ever backed away from a challenge.
She tightened her grip on his shirt and surged forward. This time crashing against him, a back and forth more reminiscent of their usual back and forth. Hesitant warmth blazed into a more familiar heat, Eira instinctively vying for control and Drake meeting her unspoken challenge as he always had, with a heat of his own.
His hands had settled on her waist, his warmth adding fuel to the furnace inside her. Eira had loosened her hold on his shirt, palms now pressed on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart, an unlikely accompaniment to their dance.
He was everywhere, and Eira was lost in the feel of him.
If she were being honest with herself, she does not want to be found either.
-
CRASH
Drake jumped, breaking away from Eira in the process. Eyes wide, they both whirled around. Drake’s minitree lay on the floor, small Christmas balls rolling around the floor, fairy lights illuminating the carnage. Next to the mess, miraculously unharmed and unfazed, sat Cordonia’s youngest princess.
Vivienne, fascinated by the twinkling lights in her reach, had pulled the minitree to her, causing it to crash on the floor.
I just kissed Eira Blanchard. No—Eira Blanchard kissed me.
For a moment, Drake stood rooted on the spot. Eira Blanchard just kissed him. On the lips.
Eira Blanchard had just kissed him on the lips.
Twice.
Drake blinked. Were the Christmas lights always this bright?
Lights from the fallen tree were illuminating Eira’s flushed face. Casting tempting shadows on her plump lips, feeding into Drake’s growing urge to pull her back.
The blacks of her eyes reflected the twinkling lights causing her grey irises to become even more enchanting up close.
Or was it always this pretty?
His hand twitched.
Can I kiss you again?
His hand moved.
Eira Blanchard was no ice queen. Cheeks flushed and chest heaving, Eira Blanchard has never looked more alive to Drake than at that very moment.
He faintly heard Vivienne’s delighted giggles and Lucas’ exclamations.
Oh shit. The kids.
He could see the same realization dawn on Eira’s face. Her flushed cheeks gradually lost its colour.
Slowly, as though they’re wading through water, Drake and Eira stepped back. Eira immediately turned away, rushing towards the children and fussing over the giggling princess.
Drake stared at the floor.
A tug at his shirt made him turn his head. Lucas looked at him with wide, excited puppy eyes.
“Did you make up ok?”
This kid will be the death of me.
“… sure buddy.”
-
“Say goodbye to Uncle Drake and Auntie Eira, baby.”
“Bye-bye!”
Drake raised a hand as Liam and Cassandra smiled from their car. Liam had already thanked Drake profusely, as if Drake wouldn’t do it again in a heartbeat. Babysit the kids, that is. His mind’s too muddled for anything else really.
Carefully maintaining a set distance from Eira, Drake watched the Royal’s car speed off to Valtoria. Judging the coast to be clear, Drake cleared his throat and said, “We’re never mentioning what happened to anyone.”
Even without looking, he could feel Eira’s stare. Drake’s heart thumped heavily in his chest.
A beat passed.
And another.
“Agreed.”
--
“Comfy?” Liam asked.
His son squirmed, trying to find what he dubbed as his bed’s comfiest spot, before nodding his head. Liam smiled and gently ruffled Lucas’ hair. He’ll want a trim soon, he absently noted before spotting Cassandra by the doorway. His wife smiled and lightly nodded. Liam felt himself relax. At least Vivi’s down for the night. Or the next couple of hours, at least.
“Dad?”
“Yes, darling?”
“D’you and Mommy fight?”
Liam raised an eyebrow before glancing at Cassie. His wife entered the room, apparently just as confused as he was. Has Lucas witnessed us fighting?
Generally, he and Cassandra would try to resolve any disagreements far from their children’s eyes. When was the last time we fought, anyway?
“Sometimes, baby. Why d’you ask?” Cassie answered as she settled on Lucas’ other side.
Their son shrugged, “Uncle Drake and Auntie Eira were fighting earlier.”
Ah.
Liam shared a small smile with Cassie, relief reflected in both their eyes.
“Well, sometimes friends fight because they don’t agree on some things. But they can fix that as long as they apologise to each other.” Liam made a note to talk about this to Drake. They really should tone down their bickering around the kids.
Lucas nodded eagerly. “That’s what I told them! I even made sure they kissed and made up!”
Liam grinned and ruffled Lucas’ hair again. “You’ve done a good job, darling.”
Their son grinned and added, “I even made them make up like you and Mommy do. With mistletoe!”
Liam choked. With what?
Beside him, Cassie snorted.
Well, this is interesting.
--
“So…”
Drake groaned. Leave it to Lucas to snitch.
“A little birdie told me something interesting last night.”
“Well, that little birdie better not follow his father’s footsteps and become a gossip.”
Liam smirked. Drake scowled.
“C’mon Drake. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, a kiss doesn’t have to mean anything after all.”
Drake rolled his eyes. “Right.”
It was two kisses, actually.
Drake could feel Liam’s smile growing.
“Unless –”
“Oh, don’t even start.”
Liam raised his hands, smile still in place. “I didn’t say anything. Besides, it’s not me you should worry about.”
Drake raised his eyebrows, “who then?”
Liam shrugged, looking like the cat who got the cream.
“Cassie just so happened to have heard the story, and well – she mentioned teatime with the ladies this afternoon.”
Drake sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. Oh, Eira’s gonna be pissed.
This is my Day Four submission for the 12 Days of Fictmas hosted by @emichelle and @leelee10898. My prompt is “tree topper.”
Series: The Royal Romance
Summary: The family gets together to celebrate the holidays the best way they know how – by decorating their tree, eating meatballs, and laughing together. Becoming Us/Blended a/u. Takes place a couple years after Unspoken.
Pairings: Drake x Liam, Olivia x Bastien
Their kids: Jackson x Jillian. Kids: Eleni [6] Gianna [5] Yannis [3]; Stella x Spinsterhood; Estel x Suzette. Kid: Remi [5]; Odette x Cole. Kid: Henry [2]; Gabriel x Being 13 and happy his Bamps has grandkids to fuss over
wc:3500
Content notes: Liam living his best Bing Bing [grandpa] life. Cute kids and sweet traditions. Jackson’s twin sister, Selene, is mentioned. She was stillborn. Liam is Bamps to the kids, BIng Bing to grandkids. Drake is Dad and Pop. Olivia is Mama and Mimi. Don’t call her grandma.
Characters belong to Pixelberry.
“He’s wiggling,” Gabriel murmured as he tried to trace two-year-old Henry’s hand on a sheet of red craft paper. After three tries, he decided the second attempt was the best he and his Bamps could manage.
“He’s just excited for his first Cordonian Christmas,” Liam cooed as he stood the toddler on his lap before blowing a raspberry onto his sweater-clad tummy. Henry laughed before waving at his Bing Bing and blowing a slobbery … something Liam’s way.
Gabriel nodded — he was used to seeing his Bamps obsess and fuss over his five grandchildren — as he opened a package of various holiday stickers. “Henry, let’s decorate your hand. Which stickers do you like?” he asked as he handed the sheet to the spirited child.
The toddler carefully studied the sheet before pressing it to Liam’s face and laughing. “Bi! Bi!”
Liam laughed as he took the sheet and fixed his glasses. He put on a funny “serious” face that always made his little grand squishies laugh. “What if we pick this tree,” he said, pointing out a puffy sticker to Henry. “We are decorating the tree tonight.”
“Ah cookie?”
“Of course, but after tree decorating and dinner.”
Series/Pairing: Open Heart - Tobias Carrick x f!MC (Samantha Carlson)
Disclaimer: Most characters belong to PB, Samantha is sort of mine
Rating / Warnings: T/ none
Summary: Tobias and Samantha spend some time together leading up to the holidays. During this time, they aren’t together as a couple; they are friends still trying to decide what they want to be. This takes place during Book 2 after the attack.
Comments/Notes: Written for Day 5 of the twelve days of fictmas. My given prompt was “Santa hat”
Thanks to @leelee10898 and @emichelle for running this event again. It is a lot of fun! Thank you.
Thanks to @liaromancewriter who created the wonderful photo of Tobias in the sweater and Santa hat, and @jerzwriter for prereading for me.
Word count: ~1,175 (exclusive of texts)
A week before Christmas
Samantha had just crawled into bed when her phone pinged with an incoming text. She smiled as she read it. Free to talk? Instead of reply with a text, she called Tobias back.
“It’s quiet here tonight. Elijah, Jackie, and Sienna are all on the night shift, and Aurora has a date.”
Book: The Royal Finale (AU) – set post the ending of TRF
Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Alyssa Devereaux Walker)
A/N #1: Merry Day 5 of the 12 Days of Fictmas! Our amazing hostesses, @emichelle and @leelee10898, gave me the prompt “angel” (which I loooooved working with!!) Thank you for hosting me for the third straight year! I love this tradition and I love you guys. xoxo
A/N #2: This story takes place in my Team Walker Ever After universe, which is a non-chronological, ongoing spinoff to One Rainy Day in Valtoria. It follows the lives of the Walker family after Alyssa and Drake abdicated as duchess and duke and moved out of Valtoria, and is canon-ish enough that you can read this without having read a word of any of the other series. Audrey, the former heir to the Cordonian throne, is 5 here; her little brothers are 4 and 2.
I am participating in @wackydrabbles. Prompt #124 is “You should worry about that tomorrow” and will appear in bold.
Thank you to @bbrandy2002 for the preread and to @mskaneko for all the gorgeous edits in the moodboards.
Warnings: I’m pretty sure none. If there’s language, it’s extremely mild. This is … well, it’s massively fluffy. Some talk of religious beliefs (angels)
(Drake x Olivia) in a Choices: The Royal Romance holiday drabble.
A/N It's no mystery that I am a diehard Dralivia stan, LOL. For this prompt, I'm going to the AU @krsnlove and I created for the TRR characters and their adult children. In this drabble though, we will see them when they are little.
"A little more." Olivia motioned with her hand in a downward motion. "There! That's perfect."
Drake finished attaching the lighted garland along the balcony overlooking the den.
He came downstairs to study this part of their home decorated for Christmas.
It was quite a change from how Olivia once decorated. When she was on her own, she would only have a tree decorated in the harsh, old Lythikosian style. Rough, plain wooden ornaments were intermingled with lighted candles upon one of the infamous talon trees that grew deep in the woods of Lythikos.
His nose wrinkled over the memories of that overpowering smell.
Once she became close to his group of friends and well, himself, she began to be a little more open to adding some color with lights and ornaments to her usual display. Soon the plain wooden cutouts were given new life amidst the glittery balls that Riley had gifted one year. Twinkle lights replaced the candles.
And Drake got her to compromise their first year of marriage by getting a Balsam Fir tree.
He took a deep breath of the heavenly evergreen scent mixed with the spicy steam wafting from the Lythikos nog that had recently been brought in by a servant. All was how it should be...
"Wait, where are the kids?" He asked.
Olivia carefully lifted some ornaments from a nearby box. "In the playroom. With the snowstorm earlier, Hana decided to do a zoom meeting with all the kids to keep the Christmas craft tradition going."
Drake chuckled at that. Leave it to Hana to want to make sure all her friends' children along with her own had everything she had missed out on growing up.
"I wonder what they'll make this year." He took a few ornaments from his wife to hang on the higher branches. "Hana is so good with all of them. I'm amazed at the creativity she brings out in them."
"We'll find out soon enough." Olivia smiled at the notion. "I'm certain it is something we will want to add to their memory boxes."
*****************
Upstairs...
"But I want the yarn!" Juliet shouted.
"I don't!" Jackson shouted back. "Aunt Hana said I could pick!"
"And you can!" Hana tried to speak over all the excited voices.
It might have been expecting too much to zoom six children along with her own son and daughter.
"Candy cane swords!" Prince Emerick handed his little brother Ellis one to start an epic fencing match.
"Aunt Hana." Nicky Beaumont called out sweetly. "Can Emily and me use glitter?"
"Pleeeeaaaase!" Her little sister pleaded while bouncing up and down. "Glitter! Glitter! Glitter!"
"Mommy!" Alex pulled on Hana's hand. "Izzy won't let me hold the glue!"
Hana wanted to bury her head in her hands.
"CHILDREN!"
Eight pairs of eyes zeroed in on her. Little mouths were parted in surprise. Their sweet aunt/mother never shouted, not even on a rollercoaster.
The group of seven- and four-year-old's began to pout and tear up.
"We're sorry!" Nicky rubbed her eyes.
Emily blubbered her own apology.
Emerick and Ellis hung their heads in shame while discreetly setting their candy canes on their table.
Izzy and Alec looked up at their mother, whispering their own apologies.
Jackson and Juliet Nevarkis-Walker reacted differently.
"This is all your fault!" Jackson pointed an accusatory finger at his little sister.
"Nu-uh!" Juliet stuck her tongue out at him. "It's yours. You won't give me the yarn!"
"Please, everyone." Hana pleaded, overwhelmed with guilt for losing her patience. "I must apologize to each of you." She cuddled her sniffling two in her arms, wishing she could do the same with the little faces on her computer screen. "I allowed my disappointment of not being able to be with all of you to make me lose my temper."
"We wish you was here, too." Emily Beaumont blew her nose loudly.
The others mumbled the same.
"You know what we are going to do?" Hana decided. "We are going to forget directions this year." She crumbled up the papers she had printed off with the homemade ornament ideas and tossed them over her shoulder. Her heart warmed with the giggles she could hear.
"Whatever you want to do for your Christmas ornaments is what we will do."
The kids cheered while each scrambled around to get the supplies they needed.
Hana released a frustrated breath once she was alone. Lifting her eyes to the ceiling, she whispered a brief prayer that whatever they came up with would be something they would always remember fondly.
***************
An hour later...
Drake and Olivia turned toward the sound of the pounding footsteps of their offspring running down the hall.
The pair came barreling into the room, hiding something behind their backs. Jackson and Juliet each had the proudest smiles gracing their faces as they stood before their parents.
"How was craft time with Aunt Hana?" Drake asked.
"The best!" Juliet exclaimed. "She let us make what we wanted."
"Oh?" Olivia wondered how Hana had managed that. "What did you decide to make?"
"You go first, Jax." Juliet whispered.
He grinned at her before producing what he had created.
Drake and Olivia's eyes widened.
"It's...er..." Drake began.
"That's...definitely..." Olivia stuttered.
"It's a peppermint star!" Jackson told them. "For the top of the tree!"
Drake and Olivia looked up at their beautifully decorated tree.
Sharing a grin, Olivia reached for it. She traced the lopsided star with her finger then handed it over to Drake to hang on the tree.
Picking the highest branch, Drake set it directly in the center. He couldn't stop smiling over Jackson beaming proudly up at his ornament.
"My turn! My turn!" Juliet pushed her thick red curls out of her eyes before presenting her ornament.
Olivia choked back a laugh when Drake managed to ask, straight-faced if she was inspired by the Beaumont's. Whatever that thing was that their youngest created, it did appear to have come from the mysterious depths of the ocean.
"No. Why?" She asked.
"No reason." He took the ball of tangled yarn from her. "This is beautiful, Jules."
"I love how it looks like he's melting." Jax complimented before falling to the ground in a reenactment of a snowman dying a gruesome death.
"He lost a battle." Jules told her family with all the seriousness a four-year-old could muster.
Her green eyes met her mother's. "He wasn't made of Lythikos snow."
Olivia picked her daughter up, hugging her close. "Then he never stood a chance."
Juliet nodded, knowing out of everyone in her family that her mother would understand.
"We'll hang him here." Drake decided, chuckling softly to himself.
"You know," Olivia spoke up once Drake had lifted Jackson in his arms, "I think this is the best our tree has ever looked."
She gazed about at the sight of her home decorated for the holidays. For the most part, it was beautiful with the greenery and lights. She knew though that it was those two poorly constructed ornaments that proved that this cold castle was indeed a home.
They were the proof that she had achieved the one thing she had wanted most in life: a family. Those ornaments were worth more than any medal or recognition she had ever earned simply because they came from the two, she loved with her entire heart.
"I think you're right." Drake smiled first at her then at their children. "I've never seen a better tree."
This is my fic for Day 7 of the 12 Days Of Fictmas. My prompt is Christmas Baking.
It is set in the future in my series The Rebel Crown Prince. It features Liam and MC (Anna Williams) from The Royal Romance.
Words: ~500
Rating: M (sexual innuendo, mentions of genitalia)
——
“Hey Anna, whatcha doin’?”
“Christmas baking! Want to come over and help?”
“Sure. I’ll be there soon.” Anna heard a key in the lock of the front door as she ended the call with her pinky finger, and ducked her head around the corner from the kitchen, to see Liam letting himself in with the key she had given him. He grinned at her as he toed his shoes off. Holding her floury hands out of the way, Anna kissed him as Liam entered the kitchen.
“That was quick!” She winked at him.
Liam kissed her again. “Mm-hmm. Couldn’t wait to see you, of course.” He looked at all the ingredients on the kitchen counter. “So what are we making?”
“Snickerdoodles!”
Liam choked in surprise. “Snickerwhats??”
“Snickerdoodles. They’re a common American sugar cookie coated with cinnamon sugar.”
“Snicker.Doodles.” He looked thoughtful. “Let’s break this down. Snicker, meaning to laugh at someone or something. Doodle, a colloquial expression for a penis. Now you might laugh at a penis if it was tiny… so basically we’re making tiny penis cookies covered in cinnamon sugar?” Anna laughed helplessly as Liam pondered the image he had cultivated in his mind. “You Americans can be weird.” He raised an eyebrow at Anna in mock concern before grinning at her.
“Oh, because the Cordonian obsession with eating apples so sour your face just about turns inside out isn’t weird at all.” Anna cupped Liam’s face gleefully with her floury hands and pressed a giggly kiss to his lips. “Anyway, we should get moving on this - these tiny penis cookies aren’t going to make themselves.”
Very soon a batch of normal shaped snickerdoodle cookies was in the oven. Next on the list was making gingerbread men. Liam insisted that they make gingerbread women as well, and that they be anatomically correct. Anna couldn’t help but laugh as he very carefully made miniature penises and balls for the male versions, and breasts for the females. The future king of the land was in her kitchen making gingerbread genitals…
Once the gingerbread people went into the oven it was time to clean up.
“Really? No more cooking? You don’t need my help stuffin the muffin? Basting the turkey? Filling the cream donut?” Liam waggled his eyebrows each time he suggested a new option.
Anna stood looking at Liam, shaking her head and trying very hard not to laugh. In the end she cracked up, and when Liam joined her they fell against each other in hysterics. When they finally started to calm down, Anna grinned at Liam, “I swear you could say just about anything at the moment, with that waggle of your eyebrows and I’d construe it as suggestive.”
Liam took her in his arms, and they gazed at each other. “It’s all part of my charm,” he murmured, as he kissed her.
Anna reached over to a cooling rack, swiped a snickerdoodle and waved it in front of her prince’s face, holding his gaze seductively, “Would you like to sample my sugar cookies?”
“I thought you’d never ask!”
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