Summary: Amy feels that Connor might be a little off from his usual self. It raises some concerns.
Rating: R - Content features heavy themes. Not suitable for most audiences. Consult warnings before proceeding.
Non-explicit depictions of nonconsensual sexual activity. Reader discretion is highly advised.
Words: 1000
Notes: Felt like some blond hunk in my life, so I bashed him a little.
Amy is hesitant. It is not as if it is the first time she, or they, are doing such a thing, nor is she so young to cause scandal. However, as an of-age, experienced young woman, she is still unsure whether she is fully comfortable with the proposition set forward by Connor that evening.
It was just another night. Quiet time that they spend together at his small apartment over the hardware store, away from prying eyes. It was to be expected for the young and healthy couple to fool around a bit, even desirable, but their nocturne lovemaking activities had not been feeling quite right for her lately.
He feels… Different. She supposes that all of them have been through a few traumatic events in those last few days, with the death of his mother and all that Power business all over again, and that would justify anything off about any of their acquaintances. Still, perhaps sex is not the answer, and there might be more efficient or reasonable methods of consoling his loss.
None of them are raised, though. Her brows furrowed as he kisses down her body, kneading her flesh in the way he had come to know was her favourite. Her thoughts were momentarily torn away from the condom laying unopened on her bedside table and directed towards her boyfriend’s tongue as it swept across her swelling bud.
It is one of those nights, she gathers.
"Pay attention to me." He said, voice distorted.
Connor has been a little more forceful, with a animalistic character to his demeanour on those moments of intimacy, but that is not what raises her attention. Such a thing had always slept dormant under the surface of his personality, and she cannot find in herself to complain about what has been a most pleasant experience, a fun and exciting change of pace.
No, what truly bothers Amy is not how he deals with her or his slight disregard for his pacing. It is how that contraception seems to be a contentious affair, which had never been before. She is on the pill, of course, but that has never been a reason for him not to use a condom, too. They never talked about it, but both understand that they are certainly not in a place conductive to children, and so it is not a good idea to risk it if they can help it.
Yes, they love each other. Yes, they have an understanding that they are, eventually, getting married, when she leaves college and he finds a more stable source of income with his art. No, neither of them is really struggling with income or have some great debt burden. Still, no children for now, and no measure to avoid them is really excessive.
She gasps breathily as a calloused finger joins the stimulation to her intimacy, prodding at her hole and coaxing it open. He pushes it in and keeps his movements slow and steady, stretching her open. She grows wetter as he continues to stroke her and the tongue at her clit as excitement builds and overtakes her body. He has always been exceptional at giving head.
Her hand tangles in his silky yellow hair, tugging on the strands and pushing his head deeper into her. The sensations distract her from the thin plastic that cages the thin latex.
Her thighs begin to tremble around his head as Connor removes his fingers and lifts her knees to throw them over his broad shoulders, his arms wrapped around each one in a firm hold, hands settled on either side of her waist. It was on the verge of being painful, very possessive, almost impossible for her to sneak out of.
His tongue definitively and solely replaces his long digits as he begins to alternate between thrusting it into her hole that begins to clench and mouthing at her throbbing nub.
Her virile boyfriend stops before Amy reaches her climax, moving quickly as he swirls his tongue around his glistening mouth to collect the slick that coats his plump lips and the skin around it. She whines at the loss of contact, pulling at the hem of his shirt before he rips it off and kicks off the black, battered sweatpants he uses as sleepwear.
His cock jumps while he positions himself over her. Her hands slide down his bare skin, running through the athletic figure, finally settling on his hips as she mirrors the tight grip he had on her waist. The head of his cock slaps against her clit as her concerns return to the forefront of her mind.
"Connor, wait…" She mumbles, squeezing at the soft flesh under her fingers.
"What?" He whispers distractedly as he pecks her neck, damp nose brushing her jaw.
"I think that you should put the condom on." His silence and the halting of his kisses has her stomach turning, and she races into a justification. "I-I just think…"
"We don't need it." He lifts his head. "It’s a thin piece of latex, and you’re on the pill. It's useless."
"It won't matter much if we do use it, then." She argues back.
The blond man huffs, annoyance conveyed in the way he rolls his eyes. "No, it's pointless. I won't let anything bad happen, I promise."
Amy sighs, a protest on her tongue before it dies as a familiar stretching sensation rises in her core. She moans, digging her nails into his skin.
"See? It makes no difference." He says, almost smug.
She licks her lips as she locks eyes with her boyfriend. "I want to use it anyway."
"I don't." He puffs as he pushes more of himself into her. "I'm already in she anyway. I can't just pull out now. Relax."
Amy is still uncomfortable, worry and hesitancy keeping her from doing as he asked. Connor kisses her until she finally gives in, returning affection as she fights off the concerns in her mind.
Summary: Connor falls asleep halfway through a movie and has a nondescript nightmare. His girlfriend helps calm him down.
Rating: K+ - Suitable for more mature childen, 9 years and older, with minor action violence without serious injury. May contain mild coarse language. Should not contain any adult themes.
Words: 1000
Notes: Ah, to have a blond hunk on my lap... A woman can dream.
Amy looks down to her lap and, as she gazes upon the peaceful expression her sleeping boyfriend, she cannot help but to note that Connor looks impossibly sweet like this.
His eyes are softly closed in sleep, lips parted around quiet, shallow breaths. He is lying on his back, his head resting snuggly on her lap, tilted slightly towards her stomach, with a few loose strands of his blond hair tickling against his eyes and nose.
The movie they were watching together has long since ended, but the young woman does not mind, even as the credits roll and the screen shows the menu for the streaming service again. She is too preoccupied with carding her fingers through his soft, long hair, admiring the curve of his nose and the relaxed line of his brow.
When his expression become pinched suddenly, she cocks her head. He inhales a sharp breath, and turns to bury his face against her lower stomach. One of his hands comes up to grip at the fabric of her clothing, a cotton set of pyjamas, much loved over the years. It was cute to see him seeking comfort, like a child grasping for a blanket, rubbing whatever he can ball into his fists over his nose.
Amy covers his hand with hers and squeezes, keeping the other one running through his hair. He makes a soft noise, and though it is halfway muffled in the fabric of her clothes, it sounds too much like a whimper for her to ignore. His hand tightens in her clothing, where she can hear the fabric give protest under his strength.
"Connor, honey…" She whispers, petting through his hair.
She squeezes his hand tighter. She does not particularly care if he rips her shirt, it is no big loss and she has others. What torments her is the way he is pressing into her, hiding himself from terrors she cannot see.
She hushes him. "I'm right here. It's okay, Connor. I've got you."
Maybe it works, or maybe the fright simply passes, but Amy sees his features begin to smooth out again and peace befalls him once more. His hold on her clothing eases. Bit by bit, the tension that wrung him tight softens until he is lax against her, breathing steadily.
She keeps her hand atop his, stroking back and forth now. Connor sleeps peacefully for maybe ten more minutes, but she makes no sudden movements.
The woman is just beginning to feel drowsy herself when he stirs, rolling onto his back, blinking his eyes open, bleary with sleep. He looks at his girlfriend, clearly still caught somewhere between reality and dreaming, and he smiles slowly.
"Hey, you…" He greets, voice rough.
Glancing over to the TV, he blinks several more times, lifting a hand to rub his eye. Focusing his vision, he notices the menu screen of the streaming service glaring back at him. He realises he must have fallen asleep halfway through the movie, if not for most of it, as he does not remember how it ends. Not that he cares much about it, in any case.
"Whoopsie-doodle, I think I fell asleep…" He grumbles.
He does not care about it, but his girlfriend had mentioned that she was interested on it, and he wanted to watch it with her. He hopes she is not too disappointed with how it turned out. She, in turn, cannot help but laugh.
"It's okay. You clearly needed it." She assures him, giving his hand a pat. Curious if he remembers anything from his mid-nap turmoil, she then asks, "Did you sleep okay?"
Connor sucks in a slow breath through his nose. That is a loaded question.
"Uh... Yeah." He responds, waveringly.
Amy shoots him a look. Based on his expression, the answer may be more complicated than that.
"It, uh... Yeah." He tries to elaborate, as if looking to find the right words. He returns his gaze to her, and his brows furrow softly. His lips twitch in an almost-smile. "I had a dream. You were there."
At the mention of that reverie of his, his voice turns fond. She smiles down at him, feeling an immediate rush of warmth blossom through her chest.
"Uh-oh." She says with a smile, lightening her tone to a playful timber. "That means you've fallen for me, completely. You've got me in your dreams, you can’t escape."
Reaching up, Connor touches her face with a fond delicateness, as a blinded Pygmalion admiring Galatea. The adoration in his touch is so strong, so overstated that it leaves a trail of a blush on her countenance. If it was not for the callouses on his hand, it would be easy to forget that he works in a hardware store, carrying weights all day.
"I didn't need a dream to tell me that. It’s what I think about every time I look at you, smiling at me." He says quietly. “Just like that.”
Her so-beloved smile falters. She is dumbstruck by the depth of earnest sentimentality in his voice, in his eyes.
This very same afternoon, Amy saw those hands, so warm and comfortable against her cheek, cutting down wood and welding steel into a large and heavy sculpture. After his line of work and the many traumas they faced together and in separate, it wonders her sometimes how much he still has the potential to be like a golden retriever, loving and kind.
Leaning down, she presses a sweet kiss to his lips.
"Come on." She says, voice laden with affection. "It’s been a long day, and it’s going to be a long day tomorrow. Let's get you to bed."
In the end, Amy cannot help but notice that the subject of his nightmares and anxieties is buried amongst the love they share. Maybe someday Connor will choose to share with her the evils that sometimes afflict his dreams.
For now, she is glad to be the one able to chase them from his mind.
Pairing: Tyril x f!human!MC (Reyna)
Book: Blades of Light and Shadow 2, chapter 3
Word count: 4000
Rating: T
Warnings: emotional hurt
Category: hurt/comfort
Synopsis: Having reunited with most of her party, Reyna discovers the true extent of the traumatic events of the previous months.
A/n: special thanks to @starlight-starfury for encouraging me to include Tyril speaking elven 🫰🏻
× Calanín - my light: elven word of affection, the elven equivalent of the Common language's "my love;" the elves believe that love is often fleeting, but the Light is constant, and the most precious resource they possess.
Tag list: @starlight-starfury @cashweasel @watatsumi-island @lilyoffandoms @sophie-summer @lazypartridge @brycesgirl @agattthaa @secret-fungi @megas-choices (if anyone wishes to be added/removed pls let me know!) @choicesficwriterscreations @choicesbookclub
Nia, Mal, and the children had developed a routine, thanks to which the kids changed into their pyjamas, brushed their teeth, and were tucked in under thirty minutes. If one would take Nia at her word, developing the schedule took weeks, but due to eager cooperation the group managed to reduce the time from two hours to just thirty minutes, saving the guardians a considerable amount of time—time that they would spend reading, searching, and discussing the possible methods of rescuing Reyna. After ten minutes, Nia and Mal returned downstairs, having wished the kids a good night and slumped in the chairs, exhausted. Soon, the giggles and banter upstairs quietened down, and Mal breathed out a sigh of relief while Nia smiled at her friends, her features softened by the warm candlelight.
“Can I offer you anything? Water, tea? We don’t have much, but I’d love to host you properly,” the Priestess chirped, already rising from her seat, but Tyril held out his hand to stop her.
“It’s alright, thank you, Nia. Save what you have for the children.”
Nia nodded, while the elf rested his left hand on Reyna’s thigh, gently squeezing it in a poorly disguised display of affection. Her lips curved in a soft smile, and she vaguely covered his hand with her own before addressing the rogue before her.
“Lord Weasley of Riverbend, huh?”
Mal smiled sheepishly and scratched his neck, blushing faintly as if he had been caught in a lie. “I had to improvise, and Riverbend just happened to occupy my mind an awful lot lately.”
“Gotta admit, you really nailed the accent. If I hadn’t known better, I’d think you were a native,” she winked, drawing a laugh from Mal.
“What can I say? I had spent an awful lot of time with you, kit.”
Nia joined the conversation. “How is Kade? I’ve been meaning to visit him, but there was always something urgent to attend to, and…”
“He’s doing just fine, cooped up in the library or in the royal gardens with Loola and Threep. He’s made the Master Librarian his archenemy, though.”
The Priestess chuckled. As Mal rested his arm on the back of her seat, a quiet yawn escaped Reyna’s lips and her eyes watered uncontrollably. She rested her head against Tyril’s shoulder, continuing to smile at her friends. Although she did not feel the true length of her absence, she had missed them, and at that moment she felt at peace.
The idyllic atmosphere was disrupted by a quiet childish giggle coming from the top of the stairs, and the group's heads turned simultaneously in that direction. Mal sighed exhaustedly and rubbed his tired eyes before addressing the children.
“Guys, we talked about staying up past bedtime!”
The grave silence that followed his remark was soon interrupted by barefoot steps and the creaking of the old wooden floor. A frail, pale blonde girl stood next to Mal and whispered in his ear, her big eyes glued to Reyna. In response, Mal smiled at the child and nodded. “Do you want me to introduce you?”
The girl nodded her head excitedly, and he addressed his friend.
“Kit, this is Nyra, she's a big fan of yours.”
Reyna's brows furrowed. "Fan?"
“Mal and Nia often told us stories of your adventures! My favourite is the one when you ran after Duchess Xenia and fought her! I want to be as brave as you when I grow up!” the girl chattered reedily. “Can I ask you a question?”
"Ask away, Nyra," she sent the girl an encouraging smile, squeezing Tyril's hand under the table.
"Weren't you afraid?"
"I'd be crazy not to be afraid,” she smiled. “Bravery isn't about not being afraid, it's about doing the right thing despite fear."
The girl nodded, drinking the words off Reyna’s lips, staring at her heroine in awe.
“Now go to sleep, Nyra,” Mal rubbed the girl’s arm, softly pushing her towards the stairs. Before disappearing in the darkness, Nyra waved at the couple, and Reyna sighed.
“Said like a true hero,” Nia concluded while the men agreed silently.
“It’s good to see you, guys. I just wish Imtura was with us.”
“We’ll find her, don’t fret, Rey-Rey,” Mal assured. The nickname made Reyna groan.
“Please don’t call me that.”
“How about Rey of Sunshine?”
Reyna glowered at him. “Mal, I’m warning you.”
“Reiny?”
“Oh, I like Rey!” Nia joined in the conversation, grinning.
“What do you think of “Reine”? I think it suits your personality,” the thief continued. “What do you think, elf boy?”
Tyril, smiling softly at the course the conversation took, looked to his left at his partner, his eyes glistening with the reflection of a nearby candlelight. “I believe my answer falls under a public display of affection.”
Nia brightened up. “Aw! It’s so nice seeing you two together again. Tyril had been so miserable without you, Reyna.”
“Tyril, my man, I’d like to remind you that we were direct neighbours at the Palace and their walls are surprisingly thin, so you really shouldn’t be em—”
Tyril cut in, blushing. “Stop talking.”
Grinning, the rogue continued teasing, pointing to Reyna with a nod of his head, while Nia and Tyril grew considerably more abashed. “I see you already had a chance to celebrate.”
Reyna touched her neck, remembering the necklace of red love bites that her lover bestowed upon her the previous night, and bit her lip, slightly embarrassed. She forgot to cover the bruises in the morning as she was in a hurry. The Priestess intervened.
“Stop teasing them, Mal. They’re young and in love, of course they celebrated their reunion.”
In love. The couple looked away, uncomfortable with the subject, but Nia continued, oblivious to their discomfort.
“I’ve been meaning to ask before—” she bit her tongue, cleared her throat, and continued. “Who said it first? Was it romantic? I bet it was! Tyril always had a way with words and—”
“Oh, Priestess, read the room!” Mal chuckled. The redhead’s smile faltered as she raised her eyebrows in question, tilting her head slightly. The rogue explained. “Look at them! Elf boy’s about to turn dark purple, they obviously haven’t said that yet.”
Nia’s lips shaped into the letter “o” as the realisation dawned on her, but before she had a chance to apologise, Reyna intervened. “Alright! It was great to see you, but we should go. It’s getting late, and we need to rest.”
“True,” Mal agreed. “No offence, but you look terrible, lordling.”
“It takes one to know one, thief.”
“You don’t like my haircut? You wound me,” with feigned offence, Mal placed a hand over his heart, making Tyril roll his eyes. Reyna smiled at the exchange, but agreed with Tyril. Mal looked exhausted, the dark spots under his eyes and slouched posture explicit evidence of that. “Let me walk you to the door.”
Hugging Reyna goodbye, Nia whispered, squeezing her eyelids tight. “Please, don’t disappear again.”
Reyna rubbed her friend’s back reassuringly before moving away from the warm embrace. “I’ll do my best.”
“Your disappearance wreaked havoc, kit,” Mal admitted quietly, patting her back. “I know it may look like we just moved on, but there wasn’t a day Nia didn’t stay up late sifting through the Temple’s scrolls in search of rescue. Whenever I got a promising lead, it turned out to be just an urban legend. We—” his voice broke. In no hurry, Mal took a deep breath and moved away, his hands resting on Reyna’s shoulders. “We really tried, kit. I’m sorry it wasn’t enough.”
Reyna smiled comfortingly. “Don’t beat yourself up, Mal. I’m here, in one piece, am I not?”
He smiled. “I suppose.”
“Thank you for trying.”
Unpersuaded by her assurance, Mal nodded weakly, and before the couple took their leave, he patted Tyril’s arm. “Don’t let her out of your sight. See you in the morning.”
Strolling through the streets of the capital, slowly climbing towards the Whitetower castle, Tyril and Reyna grudgingly discussed the following day’s plan, in the meantime looking around for a seamstress. Despite the late hour, one of the very last vendors was still folding clothes in the town square, and being in desperate need of a more appropriate gear, Reyna left Tyril waiting outside. Patiently pacing around the ornate fountain, the elf studied a nearby florist when his gaze stopped at a bouquet of familiar flowers in the man’s hands. It took a bit of haggling and bragging about his title for Tyril to purchase the flowers imported from his homeland—black-petaled frilly sunflowers with luminescent red stamen—but he purchased them, and he could not suppress the proud smile on his face when Reyna emerged from the building with a paper package in her hands. He handed her the gift wordlessly.
“Oh! What’s the occasion?”
“There is no occasion. These flowers are native to Undermount, we call them melissë anar’insil. They were my mother’s favourite, she grew them in our garden, and…” he bit his lip, blushing slightly. “And they remind me of you.”
“They’re beautiful,” she said quietly, awestruck. “Thank you, Tyril. But you shouldn't have, they look like they have cost a fortune."
"There's a possibility that the saviour got a discount."
A hearty laugh escaped her lips upon hearing the word saviour yet another time the same day. "Admit it, you like being the hero."
Tyril bit his lip, trying to contain his smile. "I suppose the title carries some benefits."
Chuckling, she climbed on the tip of her toes and pressed her lips to his for a short, sweet kiss. She could still faintly taste the sour lime lemonade with mint on his lips, the drink he claimed his favourite, the memory bringing a smile to her face. She thought of their first, and at the same time last, date—the day they partook in festival activities, roamed the streets of Whitetower holding hands, made love in a secluded tower, and ended up intoxicating themselves at a local tavern with Riverbendian drinks. As if reading her mind, Tyril’s lips curved in a knowing smile.
“Does the name of the flower mean anything in Common?” she asked, interlacing their fingers. Resuming their lazy stroll back to the castle, the elf nodded, yet he took his time with the answer, eventually smiling sheepishly.
“It translates to ‘the lovers’ sunflower.’ These sunflowers are considered the flower of royalty in Undermount as due to their rarity only the wealthiest can afford them, and they symbolise devotion, loyalty, and adoration.”
Nodding, Reyna brought the bouquet closer to her face and took a deep breath. The smell was sweet but not overpowering, reminding her of the first days of summer, and the exact smell of Tyril’s bedchamber in Undermount. She remembered walking out to the balcony when he fell asleep and seeing the luminescent stamen in the darkness, thinking how otherworldly they made the garden look.
“I can see why these were your mother’s favourites.”
“Their appearance is but a fraction of the reason for her admiration. Mother adored them because father asked for her hand in marriage with half a dozen bouquets of these flowers and had showered her with grandiose bouquets ever since on the most important occasions. She always said it’s a perfect addition to any confessions and talked very fondly of the day Adrina was born as father had the Manor’s ballroom filled with flowers,” Tyril reminisced, his gaze distant but a smile was playing on his lips.
“I’d love to hear more about your mom, she sounds like a very kind soul.”
Tyril nodded. “She was. However, that is a story for another day. We should hurry, it will rain soon.”
The moment Tyril locked their chamber's door, the toller announced the clock struck eleven and Reyna plopped down on the mattress exhausted.
"You don't have to buy me flowers if you want to propose, I'm a simple girl, Tyril," she teased, yawning. The elf flushed purple, realising how inauspiciously he crafted his words back in the town square, and smiled at her. "Duly noted."
"And if you want to fool around, just stay the word," she winked, unlacing the corset of her dress. "Not today, though, I'm dead on my feet."
"Ever the romantic," he smiled. As he helped her out of her clothes and into a loose nightgown, Tyril made sure she was tightly tucked in, and soon joined her, stroking her back until she fell asleep.
People have a saying, one that Tyril overheard while patrolling the streets of Port Parnassus, just minutes before he first bumped into Reyna. They say that what does not kill will make you stronger, and during the year she was gone he prayed it was true. He hoped all this suffering was not in vain.
Yet now she was here with him and he felt everything but stronger. He felt weak, broken, undeserving. He couldn't protect her. It should've happened to him.
He hadn't slept the night before—after he lulled his beloved to sleep, he stayed guard in case of the worst. It gave him plenty of time to look at her, admire the features that he had prayed to see again, to assess the damage she had suffered at the hands of… Of who exactly? She didn't want to talk about it, and he didn't push her. Overwhelming her was the very last thing he wanted to make her feel so soon after returning; alas, because of that choice, his imagination was running wild. His mind was painting the pictures of Reyna running through the obsidian desert, fighting the remaining Shadow soldiers, battered, aghast, and disappointed she had to save herself because the people closest to her had failed.
Studying the fresh horizontal scar on her inner arm, Tyril ventured into a dangerous territory of fear-fueled theories as to what lay ahead. The Shadow Realm was an unexplored area, where unlike Morella they were on a hiding to nothing. Tyril did not doubt the loyalty and capability of their group, but they managed to win the fight against the Dreadlord by a stroke of fortune—had it not been for the Priestess’ sacrifice, the party would have lost at least two members, himself included. If the new enemy was indeed a competition to the Shadow Court, they needed allies.
Tyril noticed that upon her return, Reyna not only possessed new wounds and scars, but also lacked that mesmerising glint in her eye, her movements were slower, and body weaker, not to any sudden or loud noises paralysed her with fear. Reyna came back different. Tyril would even risk saying that it was not Reyna who came back. Not the one he knew. It was someone new entirely.
The woman next to him took in a shuddering breath, her fingers gripping the duvet tightly. Restless even in her sleep, Reyna was indisputably facing the consequences of living through numerous traumatic events within a short time period without respite. Reaching forward, Tyril smoothed out the worried crease between her brows with his thumb, deluding himself that with this simple gesture he was able to transfer all her worries onto himself.
Take the utmost care of her and relay that Father and I rejoice at the news of Reyna’s return!
Against his will, Tyril’s mind replayed the moment of reading Adrina's letter. Could he truly protect Reyna? Without demur, he would give his life trying to ensure her safety, albeit such sacrifice seemed pointless from his current standpoint. If he was gone, who would protect her?
“I suppose sleep is not my ally tonight,” she sighed to herself, having woken up from a nightmare-filled sleep. Wrapped in their sheets, Reyna observed Tyril, carefully studying his back, the hair that cascaded over his muscles, the way the moonlight reflected on his skin and how utterly ethereal he looked against the starry night sky. He was sitting on his legs on the balcony, facing the city, unnaturally still. As concern gripped her heart, Reyna cautiously walked over and touched his shoulder.
"Tyril, are you alright?"
The elf looked up, snapped out of his reverie, and his hand covered hers mechanically. "I was meditating. I'm alright."
As it dawned on her, she covered her lips with a hand, doused with a wave of embarrassment. "Oh, I'm sorry, that's— that makes much more sense than what I feared," she blubbered. She did not intend to reveal the exact reason of her concern, he did not need to hear that her initial thought was that he had been petrified the same way Kaya was. "I won't bother you any longer, I'll just—"
Tyril slowly rose to his feet and rubbed her arm. "It's alright, Reyna, I was supposed to finish a long time ago anyway. Let's get you back to bed."
As his hand rested on the small of her back, he noticed the dampness of her skin.
"Do you do that often? Meditate?"
He nodded. "It's supposed to be only thirty minutes a day, but…" he sighed. "Once the feasible solutions were depleted, I started praying for a miracle. There was nothing more that I could do but pray, so I prayed for hours on end."
Reyna bit her bit as an impulsive thought emerged in her mind. "Would you pray with me?"
As the look of surprise flowered on his face, his brows furrowed, but his expression changed into a kind, encouraging smile within seconds.
"Absolutely. Is there anything in particular you'd wish to pray for?"
Her answer was affirmative. "Do you mind telling me a bit more about your prayers first? I'm not exactly religious, and I don't know much about your gods, but I feel like it's the right thing to do."
"Anyone is welcome to seek comfort and guidance from the gods, you needn't be religious for that," he reassured. "We do not have many prayers per se as we'd rather engage in a silent conversation with the gods during meditation, but should one need a prayer there is a universal formula. I can't know for certain, but I believe the gods would look kindly on prayers for blessing or good fortune," he explained, gently rubbing her back as he guided her inside. As they made themselves comfortable on the silk carpet, assuming the exact position Reyna found him in, the elf interlaced their fingers and rested their hands on his lap. "I suppose one could also pray to nature, as do orcs, although I haven't heard of my kind practising that."
"I'd like to pray for Kaya, to put in a good word for her, so she can rest easily," she breathed out quickly, almost cutting him short. When his expression fell, she rapidly added: "Unless that's not how it works, then—"
"No, it's just— it's very thoughtful of you," he smiled, and Reyna breathed a sigh of relief. "If you wish, you may repeat after me, but it’s not necessary since you may find it challenging to pronounce certain words.”
“I’ll try,” she nodded and took a deep breath. As soon as Tyril noticed her shoulders relax, he began reciting the prayer, slowly, pronouncing the words clearly, giving her time to repeat.
“Alcarvalda nostar, varyando o in nór nosyë, iqulmë lissë an vilissë o Kaya Duskraven. Cé pataro imbi eleni, nínion ‘nin gwannad lîn. Hiro hyn hîdh ab 'wanath.”
As he finished, the elf stroked her knuckles softly, observing her carefully. Reyna was on edge, that was clear, although he could not figure out the exact reason—however, as tears spilled from her tightly shut eyes, he intervened, closing her in an embrace.
"Do you think she rests in peace? That Xenia's deed hadn't influenced her eternal rest?"
"I believe our Gods are omniscient and just, and as they welcomed Kaya, they saw her for the wonderful person she was before her life was stolen from her."
She hummed in response. They stayed like this for several minutes until Reyna’s breath evened out, and a yawn slipped past her lips. Tyril helped her climb onto the mattress and lulled her to sleep, just the night before, telling her a story of Undermount society’s attempts to open the city to the world. "Thank you," she whispered. “I— The prayer did bring me some comfort.”
Two hours. It took only two hours for Reyna to wake up again. She sat up straight, her skin blanketed with sweat. Tyril stroked her back through the damp gown as she took deep breaths to compose herself.
"It's alright," he comforted repeatedly, allowing her to rest on his chest and cry out all the emotions bothering her at that moment.
But it wasn't alright. At that moment, Reyna could not remember the nightmare that caused her to wake up drenched in sweat and with a plea on her lips, but she felt utterly devastated and powerless, and no amount of consolation was able to calm her down. Her heart would not stop pounding against her ribcage as tears would not stop flowing down her cheeks, and the terror she awakened to deftly transfigured into suffocating panic that immediately alerted the elf.
Fixing their position so that they were sitting facing each other, Tyril's palms cradled her face, forcing her to look into his eyes. "Reyna, focus on me, alright? Breathe with me, take as long and deep breaths as you can, and hold it in for five seconds," he instructed, feeling his equilibrium wane as the woman before him struggled to settle her nerves. The calming spell was ready to roll from the tip of his tongue when at last Reyna took a deep, shaky breath.
He counted down the seconds out loud for her, time after time, until her muscles relaxed, and the body became heavy in his hands. The back of his hand wiped the drops of sweat off her forehead as he laid her down, back to the same position she woke up in, and kissed her cold temple, pressing his lips for several long seconds.
She hadn't slept well the night before, and that night would probably be no different. Rubbing her back up and down, he proposed to tell her another story, in a poor attempt to help her fall asleep.
"Just hold me, please,” she pleaded. And as a devout worshipper, Tyril held her, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, although his heart ached seeing his partner in pain.
"Are you asleep?"
Startled, Tyril blinked repeatedly to rid his eyes of the remainder of sleep. "No."
“I want to cut my hair.”
The elf’s brows furrowed in confusion, his gaze focusing on the pendulum clock on the far side of the room. “Now? It’s three in the morning.”
“I need a change, and my hair reminds me of what—” she held her tongue. “Will you help me or not?”
Rubbing off the blur in his eyes, Tyril rolled off the bed and approached the mirror she was sitting in front of.
"Are you certain?"
"Just do it."
Visibly unstrung and beaded with sweat, Reyna sat facing the vanity mirror, holding back tears. Unconvinced, he took his own sword from her hand and gripped the hilt tightly. Several seconds and one skilful swish of the sword later, inches of her dark locks hit the floor silently. Holding her blurry gaze in the reflection, Tyril inquired further.
“Calanín, what’s troubling you?”
Reyna dismissed his worry with a shake of her head and made her way to the en-suite bathroom. “Sorry for waking you up,” she added before disappearing into the dimly lit room. The last sound he had heard before drifting off to a turbulent sleep was that of Reyna climbing into the ornate bath.
As the full moon gave way to the sun, coolness to sparkling dew and thin fog, the couple set out to meet their friends, shyly setting out on a new adventure, leaving the turbulent night but a memory.
Warnings: There's a fight between the group and Mal and Nia could be read as a couple, but also can be read as just friends too
Gone. Simply gone.
One second the love of his life was there, in the next one a woman pulled her inside a portal and then, she was gone.
And he didn't know what to do.
None of them actually did.
Mal and Nia decided to get up. To try to make things better. To change things for the better.
It would be what Rain would have wanted. Mal had said.
It will be the best way to honor her. Nia agreed.
Tyril knew that they were right. That the Raine that he loved would take great pride in her friends choosing to protect people, to save children just like herself and her brother, to give them a home full of love and care, a ceiling over their heads and food to keep their tummy full. To save them, just as she had been saved.
But it deeply bothered him.
The way that they talked like his soul was already gone and buried and that they accepted it and they just had to move on with their lives now.
And f it made him bothered and upset, it made Imtura outraged.
A tear ran down her face, she started screaming, exclaiming that they were all abandoning Raine, that she was still alive and their acceptance of this cruel situation was what would kill Raine, and not the woman that kidnaped her.
And that was when the true chaos began.
Tears started to run down Nia's face and Mal slammed his fist on the table.
-Now you have passed all the limits, princess. It's been four months, Imtura. And we're as close to finding her as we were on the first day. It's important to know when you lost. And we did, there's nothing we can do.
To that, Imtura didn't say anything. Instead, she wiped her tears, got up, grabbed her ax that was placed beside the fireplace and walked towards the door, opening it and stopping on her tracks.
-She would've searched for any of us for at least four decades.
And then, she left.
-Don't you think that I know that? The rogue sighed, pulling Nia closer so she could cry on his shoulder.
Nia had stopped crying already when Tyril left. She had been the most determined to find Raine in the first three months, but every failed attempt to find her made Nia worse.
Tyril knew that she felt guilty, for when she was kidnapped Raine got into that portal and saved her. She saved all of them. In different ways, but it was a fact.
Nia's light shined brighter when Mal told her the dream of having an orphanage. After that, they became closer, happier.
And now, Imtura was also gone. On her own accord but she was nonetheless. And there was nothing to help him find her on Whitetower.
For he would not stop.
He wouldn't stop.
Not now.
Not ever.
He would keep searching for her. The next day, and the day after that and the day after that. Not even death would stop him, for her soul was forever tied to his.
So, he went back home.
Not because he missed home. Well, not only for that, but it was more probable that Undermonth and the elves could at least give him a hint.
So that's what he did. He searched for that hint. He asked around the elderly elves, whom he once believed had all the answers that one could need. He searched the libraries. He went down the catacombs again and even found Lady Starfury again. When he explained the situation, she gave him a sad smile, her light growing weaker.
-If there was ever a human capable of returning from that, it was that one. Believe her, son of my blood.
And then, she was also gone, as was almost everyone recently.
When his heart had spent eight months broken and cold, he received a letter from Nia and Mal. They had already rescued nine children and they had a small home on the outskirts of town. Nothing like Undermouth, and he was sure that that part was written by Mal, but they were happy and safe and okay and at the end of the day it was all that mattered.
They had also sent the address, not explicitly calling him back, but letting him know that he was welcome if he wanted to be back.
But he didn't.
His friends would always hold a small piece of his heart, but things were different now. Imtura left. He never received any letter from her nor was she mentioned on the one that Mal and Nia sent. The other two were living together and raising their children. Tyril could not just show up and get in the way of their found happiness.
For happiness was not a thing that he had felt ever since the second his heart was ripped away from his chest and taken elsewhere.
For he never met happiness before he met her and he could not feel it without her.
It would've been too cruel of him to bring his excruciating pain into a house that was full of love.
So he didn't.
And he didn't feel bad for it, because he knew it was the right choice. But he felt guilty about Kade. He felt horrible about Kade.
He had abandoned him, the only family of the woman he loved.
They had just met him when Raine was taken away. So Kade closed himself, never letting any of them get too close, too wounded to allow that to happen.
At least he let the Nespers get close. And for that, Tyril would forever be thankful.
Tyril sent at least a letter monthly to him though, asking how he was, how was life in the palace and offering him a place on Undermonth.
Offer that the boy always refused, telling Tyril that he was fine and that he hoped he was too. And that was it. Nothing more, nothing less.
It still haunted his thoughts when he laid in bed at night. The bed that was once theirs, the bed that once carried her scent, but now it was also gone.
He let his tears roll down as he reached for her, touching the side where she always was, on the side she was supposed to forever be. But she was gone when he closed his eyes and she was still gone when he opened them.
'Come back to me, Raine' he begged daily. When he fell asleep, when he woke up, when he risked climbing mountains, when he went down the earth, when he fought vicious beasts, all in the vain thought of doing everything, anything to get her back.
This time, he foolishly had gotten himself into a fight with a Fluria by trying to get inside her nest.
A dumb decision, really, for the nest was filled with small Flurias and of a very angry mother, capable of doing anything to protect her children. And protect her children she did, throwing Tyril as far away as she could with her own body, but his body didn’t hit a forest floor.
It hitted a marble one, covered in a soft tapestry.
One that he knew very well. For it was their bedroom on Whitetower.
And there she was, looking at him with that same smile, as if only a day had passed since they last seen each other.
The Fluria had stayed behind. The portal closing too quickly for the monster to follow him.
And Raine, his Raine, looked at him with that sickling sweet smile, as if he was the most important to her, as if he held her heart in his hands. Just like she held his.
She extended her hand towards him, making his eyes leave her face to look at her hand.
He couldn’t touch it. He couldn’t touch her. It was only a dream. It had to be.
For the gods had a sick twisted game of giving him happiness and then ripping it apart right in front of his eyes. He lost Kaya, he lost Raine, he lost his friends. He couldn’t bear to lose her again. He would not survive it. But when he didn’t touch her, she let her hand get even closer to him, giving that smirk that was so usual of her when she would say something to embarrass him that he almost believed that she was really real.
-Come one, Tyril. Will you stay the whole night on the floor? I wanna take a look at this new style. So far, 10/10, very hot, would do.
He laughed.
For the first time in one year, he laughed.
When he touched her hand and got up, she did not disappear. Nor she did when he kissed her. His heavy tears almost burning their skins. But she didn’t complain. She only held him closer and closer, as if she knew he was afraid she would vanish again. As if she knew his heart.
She probably did. It was hers and hers only, so how could she not know it?
That night, when he laid to sleep, Raine was there and she was still there when he woke up, curled up on him. Still asleep and still with that beautiful smile on her face.
A/N: Part one! This isn’t related to the plot of book two in any way and pretty much stands as its own thing.
She found herself in a world like death.
One where hellfire rained from the heavens, and ash drifted through the air like blackened snow. If there were any gods watching over this realm, then they had abandoned it long ago.
The charred earth splintered beneath her feet with each step she took, the only sign of a land that had once flourished with life but now lied in ruins, having crumbled in the wake of devastation and leaving only a distant memory behind.
Above her, the red sun stared down like a watchful eye, blazing with crimson fire as it followed her every move, as its hellish glow painted the sky in blood.
It had not spared anyone from its ire before, and she would be no different.
A horrific squawk cried from overhead, and through darkened clouds she could make out the faint shadow of a creature’s wings flapping high above. In a burst of flame it emerged from the sky, soaring directly towards her with gnarled claws ablaze.
It almost looked like a drake, though with dark and matted feathers in place of the vivid colours from those she had come to know, and a sharp beak that opened wide to breathe a column of scorching fire in her direction.
She raised her hands to summon her magic in defence, but where sparks of light usually flickered to life upon her fingertips, there was nothing. She was powerless in this place.
Instead she threw her body to the side as the blast sailed overhead, causing a wave of heat to ripple against the dry air. Her fingernails raked against black mud as she struggled to pull herself from the ground, but the drake was faster and she writhed in agony as its claws dug deep into her sides, the sharp talons drawing blood.
Its screeches rang in her ears as it took off to the skies once more, carrying her higher to where the smoke grew thick and putrid, and the acrid stench of sulphur tainted the air.
Below, the rivers of lava wound themselves into a labyrinth, emitting a faint amber glow barely visible through the dense haze. Sharp rocks jutted out of the ground like shards of black glass as the drake descended lower to where the scorched earth began to crack, forming a large fissure down the centre of the land.
Her mouth opened in a silent scream as it released its hold on her body, throwing her down into the wide chasm below.
The wind howled past her ears as she fell, its cries slowly morphing into anguished wails the further and faster she plummeted down. Grey rock faded into vast nothingness as darkness took hold, and still she remained falling through a pit of despair.
She didn’t know how much time had passed as minutes and hours merged into an endless blur. With no other options, she made one last attempt at calling for her magic. A final plea for something, anything to happen, for even the tiniest spark to ignite in the dark, but it was hopeless. The Light did not shine on her here.
Just as she thought she would spend an eternity falling to her demise, she hit the ground and tumbled down a hill of ash before rolling onto her back, gasping and unable to move.
When she opened her eyes, she saw that she was at the bottom of a cavern, the air cold and bleak deep beneath the lava’s surface. A dim glow faintly illuminated the space around her, but its source was weak and fading, and it didn’t offer the same comfort as the warmth she was used to.
She was curious to know where it was coming from, but couldn’t move her neck to follow it. A pool of blood stained the ash beneath her and specks of dust drifted through the air as she took a shaky breath.
All she could do was listen. She heard the faint trickling of water from a crack in the rocks nearby, no doubt tainted like the other remnants of this realm. Somewhere else in the cavern she could hear the sound of iron chains being dragged across the ground, and a pair of heavy footsteps edging closer and closer.
A shadow fell over her crumpled body in the form of two dark wings, slowly unfurling with a cold breeze that sent chills up her spine. Through blurred vision she caught a glimpse of obsidian eyes, harsh and cold as they bore into her own.
Except the figure seemed to see past her, turning instead towards the opening where she watched a young woman follow him further into the cave, and she froze at the sight.
It was her.
Or rather, someone who had once been her, but was now a different person entirely. Her skin was a pale shade of grey, and her eyes were turned pitch black. Dark tears spilled down her cheeks and her voice was laced with a bitter desperation she couldn’t place.
“I did what you asked,” she pleaded. “I sacrificed everything.”
When the winged figure spoke, it was with a voice like the rolling of distant thunder, echoing across the cavern walls and causing the earth beneath to tremble.
“V’eratis vos detrima,” he seethed behind clenched teeth in an ancient language she didn’t recognise nor understand, and a black spear glinted from where it appeared in his grip. “You have outlived your purpose.”
Her corrupted self’s eyes widened as she realised what his words meant. Still, she made no attempt to fight death, offering no resistance as he hurled the weapon towards her.
The sharp point pierced through her heart, embedding itself in the stone walls behind her. From the ground, she watched as her body slumped forward, pinned to the wall with black blood dripping from the hole in her chest.
With a blast of wind that stirred the ash and dust around them, the figure took off to the skies, leaving her alone in the darkness.
She was still paralysed on the ground where she had landed after falling, and her head began to spin as she felt herself fading. Using all the remaining strength she had left, she lifted her head weakly, only to find her corrupted self staring right back at her.
“Who are you?” She whispered, terrified.
The blood fell faster, dripping onto the ground as her gaze locked onto her own. “I’m who you’ll become, if you fail.”
Tendrils of shadow emerged from the darkness, like phantom hands reaching out to wrap themselves violently around her limbs before dragging her down to the depths that awaited below, leaving her real self truly alone in a world gone wrong.
Above, a crimson inferno blazed on the dark horizon.
And soon it would consume her too.
Raine woke with a scream spilling past her lips. Her heart pounded fiercely against her ribcage from where it felt trapped within her chest and a pale sheen of sweat coated her skin, glistening under the moonlight.
She took deep gasps of air, no longer tainted by ash or smoke but instead clean and fresh, filling her lungs with relief. It wasn’t until she felt a pair of warm arms pulling her into their protective embrace that she realised what had happened and where she was.
She was back in Undermount, safe in the chambers she shared with Tyril in the Starfury Manor. He held her close against his chest, his fingers softly stroking her hair as he murmured soothing words she couldn’t hear, her ears still ringing as she slowly adjusted to her surroundings.
There was still a lingering pain in her sides from where the drake’s sharp claws had delved deep into her flesh, and she raised a fist to her mouth as she held back a strangled sob while tossing aside the silken bedsheets.
Each of its talons had been the size of a small dagger embedding themselves into her skin, and despite the pain that thrummed there like the piercing edge of a blade, when she reached for her sides expecting to find jagged lacerations and seeping blood, there was nothing.
She pulled her hand away, taking a shaky breath. There was always nothing. Never so much as a single scratch marring her skin despite the pain that suggested otherwise. She almost wished there was, at least then she’d have evidence that what she had experienced was real, that these horrors didn’t just reside within her mind and were more than just a bad dream.
A hollow cave ached in her chest at the thought. It hadn’t been real, she knew that. But it had felt real, and so was the fear these nightmares left behind. Visions of anguish and suffering so vivid they etched themselves into her memory, haunting her rest whenever she closed her eyes and lurking in the shadows during the day.
She was slowly brought back to her senses as Tyril rubbed small circles into her back with his thumb, his presence alone tethering her to reality once more and guiding her awareness to the present, like an anchor of solace. He ran a hand through her soft curls, tilting her head back slightly. Even illuminated by the silver moonlight her face looked paler and dark shadows rested beneath her eyes, once vibrant but now turned dull with the heaviness of what she had seen.
“They’re getting worse,” he whispered, his brows pulled together in concern. She looked away, but not without guilt stirring in her heart as she did so. “Raine,” he frowned, reaching a hand up to cup her cheek. “I want to help you, I—” Tyril held his tongue as he realised he was powerless against the situation, and the words died in the back of his throat. I want to help you and I can’t.
He had fought against them before, the battles that were not physical but instead lingered on unseen in the mind. A war that often seemed endless when the adversary knew every weakness to target, striking the gaps in the armour until it finally cracked. If he could fight them for her he would, but they both knew it wasn’t that simple.
Tyril sighed, pulling her even closer into his embrace. “How am I supposed to protect you from what I cannot fight?”
Raine wrapped her arms around his back, looking up to meet his worried gaze. “Just being here is enough.”
He wished it was.
These nightmares had been plaguing her sleep ever since the Dreadlord was defeated, but over the last few weeks they were slowly becoming increasingly more frequent and terrifying. At first, Tyril had tried to console her.
“I have them, too,” he had whispered in the dark when she woke with a pounding heart after they first began. “It’s to be expected, given what we have faced.”
She turned to him, then, the rise and fall of her chest slowing as her breathing steadied once more. “And what are yours?”
He was silent for a moment, and the only sound she could hear was the soft ticking of the pendulum clock in the hallway outside their shared room before he answered her, his voice low. “Losing you.”
Though as her nightmares began to grow more graphic and distressing, Raine wasn’t sure they were just dreams anymore. They were beginning to feel more like a warning she couldn’t heed, her mind whispering obscurities while she slept. It seemed to be her curse as of recent, being tormented by visions she didn’t understand.
All she knew was that in bringing Light to the Realm of Shadow, she had awakened an ancient and powerful enemy, and that despite defeating the Dreadlord and his court, the battle against darkness was not yet over.
When Tyril saw she had begun to calm down, he slowly laid her back onto the bed, her hair splaying against the silken pillows as she moved to rest her forehead against his neck. He threaded his fingers through hers and she turned the palm of his hand skyward, tracing her thumb along the smooth skin of his wrist as she searched for the comforting rhythm of his pulse.
A beam of moonlight shining through the arched windows cast a silver crescent on his face as he settled down beside her. His mind wasn’t at ease either, ever the strategic warrior, he was already considering their next options.
“We should gather our friends, and your brother. If there’s any form of threat on the horizon, they will be able to help.”
Raine shook her head. “I can’t ask them to risk their lives again. Not when this is my mistake.”
“I’d hardly call saving the realms a mistake.” A muscle in his jaw ticked, bitter at circumstance, but not at her.
Never at her.
A small crease formed between her brows as she frowned. “It would be unfair to them, Tyril. They already gave so much of themselves while helping us take down the shadow court, and they’ve finally found peace after everything that happened…”
A wave of sadness washed over him at her words. “You deserve that, too.”
She sighed, fiddling with a loose thread on her nightgown. “But what else can be done?”
“We should visit Claris,” he suggested while moving his thumb to stroke her cheek. “If anyone knows what’s causing these visions and what they mean, it will be her.”
Raine nodded hesitantly before curling back up beside him.
“I’m tired of war,” she whispered into his chest. All he could do was pull her closer and it made his heart ache. Tyril had felt helpless many times before in his life, but none stirred him so deeply as this.
He would give the stars and the earth to see her smile again, her eyes sparkling violet in the sunshine and a gentle breeze softly tousling her hair. But the stars that once shone in her eyes seemed so far away, and he was powerless to bring them back.
Her eyelids fluttered closed as she tried to keep the visions at bay, she knew she couldn’t let them consume her.
“Would you like me to cast the spell?” Tyril asked, and when she nodded he moved to rest his lips against the top of her head, murmuring a faint incantation into her hair.
As he spoke, a soft glow began to surround her, leaving a shimmering trail like delicate rays of golden starlight. Slowly, they began to weave and intertwine together as though they were ribbons, pulsing with magic until they burst in a radiant display of light and leaving only small embers fading in the air.
Raine closed her eyes as she was overcome with a wave of drowsiness, the spell already beginning to take effect. It was a simple dream spell, not strong enough to ward the nightmares off entirely, but enough to hold them at bay and guide her to slumber once more, providing a temporary solace until the two could find a more permanent solution.
“Rest, my love.” He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I will be here when you wake.”
With his arms wrapped around her waist and a faint smile on her lips, she slowly began drifting off to sleep.
Until her screams pierced the fragile silence once more.
When dawn finally gave way to early morning and the soft amber glow of sunrise slowly melted into a pale blue mist, the two stepped outside into the crisp air that surrounded the elven mountain city. A carriage was waiting for them there, the golden spokes of its wheels designed to resemble a sun flaring its rays of light outward.
Tyril lifted his hand out for Raine as he helped her up the steps, before they both settled comfortably on the plush velvet seats.
“How are you feeling?” He asked, seeing her face was still pallid and her cheeks held a grey tinge, lacking the rosiness they usually shone with.
“Nervous,” she admitted, pulling back the ornately woven curtain slightly to glance out the window, but quickly drawing it closed as a sudden wave of nausea added to the crawling feeling of unease already residing in her stomach. “It feels like everything depends on this visit.”
He reached across to take her hands in his, expression solemn. “No matter what information is revealed to us in there, I’ll be by your side.”
A small smile hinted at her lips. “I know you will.”
She rubbed her thumb against the back of his hand, hoping to distract herself. “Can you tell me more about Claris?”
Tyril nodded. “She’s a seer widely renowned within Undermount for her impressive foresight, and has been predicting which Great Houses will rise and fall for years without fail, much to the displeasure of certain political heads. For the most part she is exceedingly insightful and some even claim that her visions are sent from the Gods themselves, though she’s never confirmed or denied this.”
Raine’s eyes widened slightly. “Why would they be displeased with her?”
“They feel that they’ve been humiliated, and so seek a source to blame instead of looking to their own faults, as is the way of our people. It’s hardly her doing.” He continued to explain. “It is a seer’s duty to reveal the veiled truth, but there are many of us who would rather live in denial and are stubbornly resistant to change. Still, seers have always held a pivotal role in Undermount’s society and progression forward. They see the golden threads of destiny that bind us all.”
She nodded as she thought his words over, chewing on her lip as the carriage came to a halt.
“Ah, we’re here.” Tyril stood and she got up after him, stepping out onto the paved stone path.
Before them was the Scrying Hall, a large building carved from gold with a tall spire in the centre that reached skyward and glistened where it caught the morning sunlight. Two shorter towers were positioned on either side, with intricate markings etched into their surface and silver vines framing the arched windows.
The pair climbed a curved set of stairs that led up to the open entryway and headed inside, where the high ceiling formed a pointed arch overhead, and a circular window at the far end of the hall had been cast in stained glass. It formed a brilliant sun, made up of vivid shades of yellow and orange that flooded the room with light and reflected shifting patterns that danced across the polished floors below.
“I’ve been expecting your arrival.” An elven woman approached them, with smooth, hazel skin and eyes the pale gold of the sun at dawn. She wore a set of amber robes with flowing sleeves accentuated with gilded thread, and long skirts that swept across the floor as she walked. Her auburn hair was woven around her head in a sunlit coronet, resembling the deep reds of the sky at sunset, and a light circlet rested upon her brow.
Tyril stepped forward, bowing his head in greeting. “Claris, of House Sunscryer.”
She returned the gesture politely before turning her attention towards Raine. “I’ve heard much about you, Champion of the Light.”
Raine took a surprised step back. “I’m no champion.”
Claris watched her reaction carefully, and a faint glimmer twinkled in the seer’s eyes that she couldn’t quite place. “Not yet, perhaps. Though those rare few blessed by the Light seldom shy away from uprooting corruption and conquering darkness where it stands, should they choose to rise to the challenge.”
From beside her, Tyril cleared his throat. “I assume you know why we’re here?”
She nodded, her expression unreadable. “If you could follow me, please.”
Claris led them to a concealed part of the hall where a swaying curtain next to a series of ivory pillars obscured the large object behind it from view.
“How long ago did your visions begin?” She asked, rearranging a cluster of small crystalline vials filled with various elixirs, catching the sunlight from where they sat on a polished tray upon a silver cart.
“Since the Dreadlord was defeated, though they’ve been getting worse for the past month.” Raine answered, trying to keep her voice steady as she focused on the seer’s actions. “At first they seemed hazy and I could barely make out what was happening, so I assumed they were connected to our fight against the Shadow Court since we were all still recovering from what happened.”
She shifted her attention towards Tyril. “But over time they grew more vivid and strange, like the world was warped around me. I’d see strange figures emerging from the dust, the world on fire and the sky wreathed in darkness.”
She was about to tell them about what she saw last night, but stopped herself. Perhaps it was better to keep that one to herself for now. Or at least until she gained a better understanding of what it had meant.
Claris nodded as she turned back towards them, and lifted her hand to withdraw the curtain. Above a sturdy podium was a large, spinning altar, emitting a golden light and surrounded by shining rays that resembled the midday sun.
“Is this similar to the celestial altar?” Raine asked, noticing it shared a resemblance to the one in the Grand Library.
“Similar, but not the same.” Claris replied, carrying a few scrolls over towards the closest table. “This is a sun altar, so where the celestial altar draws its power from the cosmos, this one harnesses the energy of the solar light above us.”
She paused for a moment in thought. “They also serve different purposes. The celestial altar specialises in the past and that which has already been preserved, showing us memories that have long since passed. The sun altar focuses on the future, showing us what has yet to come, or what may be.”
Raine exhaled with relief at her words. If the visions from her nightmares were not yet set in stone, then perhaps she could still prevent the horrors she had seen from taking hold in reality.
“Now,” Claris smiled, her eyes gentle. “If you could place your hands on the altar’s surface?”
Tyril gave her a reassuring nod and she stepped forward, doing as Claris instructed. The sun altar was warm beneath her touch, exuding a light heat that she could feel pulsing with life and energy beneath her fingertips. She took a deep breath in, preparing herself for what might happen next.
“This spell will allow me to gain further insight into your visions and what they mean, which will hopefully provide me with the information I need to guide you.” Claris said as she moved to the opposite side of the altar. “Since I’m casting as the recipient, you shouldn’t experience much on your end, if anything at all. If you do see anything let me know once we’ve finished, whatever we see here will determine your next course of action.”
Raine nodded and closed her eyes while Claris tucked a loose strand of hair behind a tapered ear. She murmured an incantation under breath that was too low to hear, before her eyes turned a vibrant gold that soon lit up the whole area and flooded the room with light.
Several minutes passed as Raine kept concentrating on the warmth surging through her hands. At this point she hadn’t experienced anything unusual, until an image began to flicker behind her eyes, wavering like a reflection in a pond.
She saw a series of marble pillars engraved with gold lining a grand staircase, at the top of which stood a pair of imposing, gilded gates. Just as quickly as it appeared, the image dissipated like smoke and she opened her eyes to find herself standing in front of Claris once more.
“You saw them as well.” The seer observed her reaction. “The Gates of Elhalas.”
With the spell complete, Tyril stepped up beside them. “The Land of the Gods? Why would Raine’s visions be connected to the realm of the ancients?”
“Morella is not the only realm under threat.” Claris spoke solemnly. “But it soon will be. Your dreams are more than warnings, Raine. They are a glimpse of what is to come if we do not take immediate action, or else the world will collapse at our peril.”
Raine looked towards Tyril. “We’re ready, we’ll do what needs to be done.”
Claris nodded. “Then if you wish to save this world, you will need guidance from the gods, and that means travelling directly into their realm.”
“But how?” She asked. “I thought Elhalas was where the spirits of the ancestors lived after passing on, and we’re…very much alive.”
“Under regular circumstances, you would be correct. But you are a Realm-walker, Raine. You’ve been infused by the Light and are capable of far more than you can even begin to imagine.”
Tyril placed a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. “Think of what you did in the Realm of Shadow, that great feat was only the beginning. If the Gods have granted you a vision of the Gates to Elhalas, then that is where we must begin.”
Raine entwined her fingers with his, taking a moment to savour their shared strength. As long as he was by her side, uncertainty didn’t dare stir within her heart. “I’m ready.”
Closing her eyes, she focused solely on conjuring the image of the gates in her mind, envisioning them with clarity until she felt a strong heat radiating from in front of her. When she looked up, a shimmering portal had appeared before them.
It looked different than the one that had led to the shadow realm. Where that portal had been a swirling vortex of red lightning and dark energy, this one burst with light. A golden mist surrounded them, like the sun peering through the clouds after rainfall, emitting a soft, hazy glow that felt warm against her skin.
“Is that really…” Raine trailed off as she stood entranced, and when she reached her fingertips out to touch the portal, it rippled and a shower of vapour lightly poured down around them.
Tyril beamed at her, his eyes shining with pride. “I never had any doubt in my heart.”
“The portal will lead you to Elhalas.” Claris said. “I must be on my way, as should the two of you.”
“Wait,” Raine turned towards her. “What about—”
“Another will be able to answer your questions in further depth.” She interrupted with a knowing smile. “I was merely a stepping stone in your path ahead.”
Raine nodded. “I can’t thank you enough, for all your help.”
“Be careful,” Claris warned. “The gods play chess, and we are the pawns they wield.”
With a dip of her head, the seer turned and departed from the room, leaving the two of them standing alone in front of the portal.
“Are all seers so mysterious?” Raine asked and Tyril chuckled, before the weight of what lied before them began to settle in.
“I can’t believe we’re really going to Elhalas,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “This is bigger than just the two of us now.”
Tyril reached for her hand, and the warmth of his touch made her stomach flutter. “Nothing is too big for the two of us,” he breathed. “We’ve conquered more darkness than anyone will ever know, and we will do it again, together.”
Raine smiled down at their interlaced fingers. “Together,” she repeated, and hand-in-hand they stepped through the portal, determined to face the unknown that awaited them.
Stepping through the portal had felt like passing through a fine veil of fog, and when they emerged on the other side they were met with a great, blinding surge of light until it slowly faded and they found themselves in the middle of a grand courtyard.
Around them, pale crystals embedded in the white stone walls pulsed with a faint glow, illuminating the golden flowers that bloomed along lush green vines in the sunshine.
The Gates of Elhalas loomed overhead, casting a tall shadow on the staircase below, and bringing attention to the two figures who descended it.
“The glittering stars above and shifting sands below have long been awaiting this moment,” a lilting voice spoke. “If only we could be meeting under more fortunate circumstances.”
Though Raine had not met them before outside of stories and songs, there was no mistaking the two courageous warriors from Kade’s tales who had led the charge against the Shadow Court’s forces; the elven king Xaius and battlemage Ellara.
The pair looked even more valiant than she had imagined. Ellara, no longer a battlemage but instead now a goddess, wore a shimmering pale blue dress adorned with silver beads strung together like moonlit pearls. She still wore the sapphire circlet from her days as Xaius’ second-in-command nestled among her red-brown hair, falling in waves over her shoulders.
The former elven king stood tall beside her with the imposing stature only a noble could possess, his golden robes lined with jewels any human would envy and his long, pale hair was swept back. Raine assumed godhood was not so different from leading an empire, with people singing your praises and a duty to guide and serve them during times of need.
Next to her, Tyril stammered for a brief moment before bowing lowly, and she swiftly did the same.
“Heroes of the great empire, we are most honoured by in your presence.” He spoke with great reverence, but Ellara quickly ushered them both back up, her silver bracelets chiming with the motion.
She smiled, though it looked almost sad. “Thank you, but while our legend still carries on, very few remember that we were mortal, once.” She shook her head. “It was difficult for us to adjust to our new positions. An honour, of course, but with eternity at your fingertips it can be challenging to discern between what is and what once was.”
“As reigning king when the empire fell, I felt as though I had failed my people.” Xaius spoke. “I often contemplated the faults in my rule, thinking I could have prevented the war if I had guided my people better. Ultimately, it’s those who turned their backs on us in search of greater power that are to blame.”
Ellara frowned. “They were a blight on our people’s legacy and everything we stood for. It only takes the selfish misdeeds of a few to cause a millennia’s worth of destruction and strife.” She took a deep breath, regaining her composure. “We cannot thank you enough for succeeding where we failed, but unfortunately the war is not yet over.”
“That’s why we’re here,” Raine said. “To end it for good, so no one suffers further.”
Ellara dipped her head before moving aside to allow them both up the staircase. “Then it is our honour to welcome you, saviours of the realm, to Elhalas.”
With a sweep of her arm, the gates behind them slowly began to open at her command. Raine had never even dared to imagine what the land of the gods may have looked like, but if the Golden City was the jewel of the ancient elven empire, then Elhalas was its treasury.
Aureate towers and ivory spires arched high into the sky and the sunlight above turned everything a glistening pale gold, as though the city had been carved from the first rays of light at dawn. Expansive gardens harboured marble temples with vibrant flowers and trees bearing silver fruit, while shimmering turquoise waterfalls fell into vast, flowing rivers.
The rolling emerald hills in the distance seemed as though they could stretch onward forever if it weren’t for the hazy golden mist barring their path on the far horizon, capturing the entire city in its glow like a magnificent spell.
“It’s hard to believe places like this once actually existed in Morella.” Raine said to Tyril in awe while gazing out at the breathtaking view. “It looks like something from a painting.”
“More beautiful, even.” He glanced towards her and smiled before turning his attention back to the view. “Unfortunately, paintings are the only way they now live on in our memories, but I believe it is better to preserve than to forget.”
Ellara and Xaius led them down into the city, where a golden path led them past towering statues, flowering bushes and water fountains. Around them, the elven spirits that inhabited Elhalas barely even acknowledged each other in passing, drifting by without so much glancing towards anyone.
As lovely as their surroundings were, Raine noticed how Tyril’s expression slowly filled with sorrow the further they ventured through the city.
“What’s wrong?” She asked, reaching for his hand.
“I thought…” He trailed off. “I thought perhaps things would be different here, that our people would have learned from the sacrifices made during the Great War. I hoped they would grow past their prejudices and mistakes,” he sighed, “but perhaps there are some things even death cannot change.”
“Many have been here since before the war and know only selfishness.” Xaius said. “Though even those who gave their lives on the forefront did not necessarily have noble intentions.”
Raine tilted her head. “What’s more honourable than sacrifice?”
“You misunderstand,” he spoke gently, “most of our people were not willing to give their lives out of duty, but pride.”
“Deshana el zentana.” Tyril spoke solemnly. “Death before dishonour.”
His words hung heavy in the air until Ellara spoke. “Although our empire may have met a dark end, there were many bright moments during its time as well.”
“What was it like?” Raine asked, and for a moment Tyril could see a glimpse of her usual self there, ever curious and unburdened by restraint, eager to learn more about their shared culture. He could not deny his own curiosity as well, having grown up in awe of such legendary heroes and tales.
“It was an age of glory,” Xaius said with pride. “Magic flowed through the air, festivals lasted for weeks at a time and banquet halls the size of ballrooms hosted towers of food plentiful enough to feed an army.”
Raine realised how strange it was knowing how others had seen the fall of civilisations she had never even known, and his words made her realise just how young she and Tyril were, for elves.
Though Xaius spoke about the elven empire with pride, she felt a sense of guilt in knowing that while her people had been living prosperously during those times, their empire had been built on the backs of human labour and the orcs had been forced to hide away in the continent’s farthest corners.
She dropped her voice low so only Tyril could hear her. “I mean no disrespect to the empire, but it’s always our people, our legacy. I know the Great War was a tragedy, but what steps had our civilisation taken to get there? They weren’t respected by the other races of Morella, they were feared.”
“They wanted too much.” He said solemnly. “I wonder, when would it ever have been enough for them? To live with an eternal longing that can never be sated casts a heavy shadow on the soul. It is avid greed that leads to everlasting misery, and it’s a difficult cycle to return from.”
Tyril shook his head. “Still, you are not wrong for questioning the principles of the empire. Even before the uprising of the Shadow Court our people had been under the allure of power for centuries, without change their downfall was inevitable.”
They continued onward in silence, until Raine was struck with a question. “I never really thought about it before,” she whispered, “but what did Ellara and Xaius become gods of after their ascension?”
“Xaius became known for his wisdom and clarity, and as such has often been called upon during times of counsel, particularly within debates or concerning political matters.” Tyril explained. “Ellara has become associated with the subconscious realm, the power of dreams and prophecy.”
Dreams. Raine found the word echoing in her mind before she raised her voice enough for Ellara to hear. “Was it you? Who sent me those dreams?”
The goddess turned to face her, surprised by the suddenness of her question before a flicker of respect shone in her gaze. “You’ve always been a clever one, Raine.”
“But why?”
Ellara frowned. “I would have conveyed my messages to you differently if I could, but unfortunately dreams were the only means I had of connecting with you. It was the only way I could warn you of the danger we all face, and for that you needed to see it for yourself.” Her expression filled with sorrow. “I’m truly sorry, for all the pain they caused you.”
“And the winged figure in the shadows?” She asked. “Who was that?”
Ellara exchanged a worried glance with Xaius before turning her attention back towards Raine. “I never sent a dream like that.”
“So you mean…it came from somewhere else?”
Ellara opened her mouth to answer but before she could speak, the ground beneath them began to quake, trembling the land and knocking both Raine and Tyril off their feet.
It passed as suddenly as it had arrived, but neither Xaius nor Ellara seemed to react to it, as though it were a regular occurrence.
“What was that?” Tyril asked as he helped Raine back up from the ground.
Xaius cleared his throat and turned away. “Elhalas has been suffering from…tremors as of recent, but I assure you, everything is under control.”
Raine couldn’t shake the feeling that everything wasn’t under control, and glanced out towards the hills, where the golden mist shimmered far beyond.
“That mist on the horizon,” Tyril said as he followed her gaze. “It serves as a barrier of sorts, doesn’t it?”
“What would you need protecting from here?” She asked.
“The mist is a type of protective shield that surrounds the city, it has been in place ever since Elhalas came into existence.” Xaius waved their concerns aside. “It merely serves as a precaution.”
More questions flittered through Raine’s mind but, getting the impression she wouldn’t be able to coax any further information on the matter from either of them, she kept her mouth shut until the group reached the end of the path.
Before them was a glistening tower that rose high above the rest of the city, watching over it as a divine protector. A golden staircase led to a plateau lined with evergreen trees that swayed in the gentle breeze, and a row of silver fountains adorned the gardens near the entryway, sunlit waters spilling over the edges.
“I’m afraid this is as far as we can lead you,” Ellara said. “The Old Gods will guide you from here.”
Raine frowned. “You’re not coming with us?”
“The Old Gods possess far more knowledge on the threat before us than we are familiar with.” She explained. “They’ll be able to ensure you’re prepared for what is to come. Since we once had a connection to the mortal realm, we were entrusted with bringing you here to begin your journey.”
Tyril bowed his head. “We thank you for all you’ve done to guide us.”
“Please, be careful.” Ellara’s brows furrowed in sorrow. “Our people have suffered enough.”
Xaius and Ellara bid them farewell before turning back down the path, leaving them to gaze up at the looming tower.
All Raine knew was that with a mysterious winged figure lurking in the shadows, sudden earthquakes and a protective barrier warding the city, something was coming for Elhalas.
Not when he’s dreamed of this for so long, the warmth of her body safe within his arms, her heartbeat racing under his touch, vibrant and alive. After a year of agonized uncertainty, she is here and real and smiling, tears shimmering like distant stars in the violet of her eyes.
Verena never weeps. She wields that sharp-edged smile of hers instead, as both weapon and shield — but in this moment it is soft and open, warm with affection as the tears sink down her face.
Though his very being aches with longing, kindled to flame and barely tempered into restraint, his hands are gentle as he trails a questing touch over her skin, searching for any signs of injury.
“Tyril.” A hand covers his own, leading his palm against her cheek, where she leans into his hold. He meets her gaze and sees a welling of emotion in her eyes, the urgency of his relief mirrored back at him. “I’m okay. Truly.”
He traces his thumb down her cheek, smoothing a tear away and cherishing the feeling of her skin. “I tried,” he chokes out, and his voice breaks under the force of his regret. “I tried everything. Would have done anything to get you back.”
“I know it, my heart.” The endearment steals his breath, the utter faith behind her words making his heart squeeze in his chest. She looks at him like she would tear the heavens from the sky before she parts from him again, and only a fool would ever doubt she could. “Never again. I swear to you.”
When she draws him down into her arms, his mouth surges against hers, kissing her with a desperation bordering on need. And when she pleads for him, gasping his name out on the sweetest sigh, he answers with a trail of hungry kisses down her throat, eager to reclaim all the parts of her he’s missed so dearly. He feels her fingers tugging through his hair, feels the shiver when he sucks against her skin, feels every place they come together in that perfect, steadfast promise. Never again.
Verena makes good on her word. Night falls long before he’s had his fill of her, and even then, when they’ve curled into a messy tangle in the sheets of her bed, when sleep begins to take her, when he dreams of her again and wakes to the same dread that she will vanish with the coming day — she keeps their fingers linked together, and she doesn’t let him go.
OK, so I decided to send some Tobias writers a Jesse GIF and ask them to write a little fic based on it. Feel free to play along if you like (or delete - no pressure!)
Okay 😂 Anyone who knows me on here knows I can NEVER resist a picture/gif prompt. This one you sent me @jerzwriter is not only perfect but also has made me think of so many different fic ideas. From the fluffy sweet to the angsty, I think I'll go with one somewhere in the middle 😉 So while I'm stalled on my OH series and all the others 😬, this at least got the inspiration going again.
Tobias opened his eyes. He blinked at the darkness while a feminine form curled against his side. Though the previous night was foggy from overindulging in both top shelf whiskey and then the actions he'd gotten up to with the woman in his arms, he knew without looking that the hair that tickled his chin was a deep, rich red in color.
Her soft curves nestled up against his body brought back flashes of heated kisses and clothes being thrown about his townhouse.
His mind then slowly registered the sound of someone knocking at his front door.
One quick look at the nightstand clock revealed that it was a little after four in the morning. He couldn't think of anyone who would come to his home at this hour, especially one who would persistently keep knocking.
"Wait here." He whispered.
Getting up, he slipped on a pair of pajama pants and softly padded down the stairs. Stumbling over his discarded shoes and shirt at the foot of the stairs, he peeked out the window to see just who was determined to wake him up at such an ungodly hour.
His heart dropped at the sight of the woman at his door.
Swallowing, he turned the door handle. Seeing her standing at his threshold caused the previous night's events to come flooding over him.
*****************
Donahue's, mere hours ago...
"Come on!" Chris playfully shoved Tobias. "One more round."
Tobias chuckled as he refilled both their glasses with whiskey.
"Alright Chris," he smiled at her, "but this is the last round. Some of us don't want to fight a massive hangover in the morning."
She snorted in her laughter. Her gray green eyes sparkled as she looked at him with mock impatience. He couldn't think of anyone more adorable than her when slightly tipsy.
"Maybe you'll get lucky." She teased. "I might say something I haven't done that you haven't either."
"Uh huh." He rolled his eyes. "Given my age and my history, that seems highly unlikely."
Tobias unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt. After agreeing to play this Never Have I Ever game with her, he'd drunk more than he had in a very, very long time. He thought the game was asinine at best but he could never refuse a chance to spend time with Chris.
She'd claimed this would be a more fun way for them to get to know one another. He'd been satisfied with their typical nights of sharing stories and yet, he loved seeing her playful/never willing to lose side show up at random times.
"Never have I ever..." Chris began.
She tapped her fingers on the bar. Her lips puckered with eyes narrowed in thought. He snorted softly to see her trying so hard to think of something that he probably had done at some point in his life.
She huffed with irritation when she came up blank with something to trap him in.
"Give up?" He taunted.
"No!" She exclaimed, unable to stop smiling at him. "I'm merely stalled."
"Thank God." He pushed his drink away. "Now can we hang out like normal people?"
"For now." She took a long sip of her drink. "But I will find something to win this game."
He winked at her. "I have no doubt that you will, Chris. I've learned to never underestimate that mind of yours."
Chris beamed at him for that compliment.
He made himself tear his eyes off her face. It was getting harder and harder for him to simply be her coworker turned friend. His flirtatious nature was dying to use everything within him to win her heart.
Chris was an attraction he didn't want to keep fighting against. It'd been about two years now since he'd joined Edenbrook's, famed diagnostics team and that was two years too long of holding back his ever growing feelings for the tall red head.
He knew why he kept holding back. One glance over to the opposite side of the bar revealed the man who had been in the very situation Tobias found himself in. From the bits and pieces both Ethan and Chris had revealed in his time at Edenbrook, Tobias knew the danger of falling for someone you worked closely with on a daily basis.
Unlike Ethan though, Tobias wasn't hesitant to actually be with Chris because of work. His was a worry more so in losing what they already had between them. Given his track record with women, he knew Chris could never be a simple notch on the old belt.
She was something infinitely more.
Eyeing the glasses, he picked his up, took a large gulp, and decided there was no time like the present to say what needed to be said.
"Don't look now," Chris whispered, "but someone has their eye on you."
Tobias looked around until he made eye contact with a woman with long, red hair. Her gaze was fixated upon him and a sultry smile played about her lips.
Chris's smile dimmed once he refocused on her. "Go on. I understand."
"Nah. I'm good." He set his glass down.
"Come on." Chris's laughter lacked its earlier joy. "Even I know that woman's a sure thing."
"I'm not interested in her." He folded his arms on the bar, angling his body towards Chris. "And I thought of a Never Have I Ever."
"Not interested?!" Chris narrowed her eyes in concern then felt his forehead. "Hmm. No fever."
"Hah, hah." He nudged her glass towards her. "Are we playing or what, Valentine?"
Chris hesitated, glancing back at the woman he was turning down.
"Okay. Hit me with what you got."
Tobias picked up his glass. His eyes lowered to the amber liquid swirling around and around while he drummed up the courage.
"Never have I ever," he took a deep breath, "admitted to the woman sitting next to me how much I want her."
Chris's glass landed on the table with an audible thud.
"That's not..." she blinked back a sudden rush of tears, "...Tobias, that's not funny."
"It wasn't meant to be." He reached for her hand. "I'm serious, Chris. I've wanted to tell you for a while now, but given your on and off again history with Ethan, I thought the timing might not be right."
Her stunned silence encouraged him to continue.
"I'm tired of waiting for the right moment, so this is it. I want to be with you."
Chris bit down on her bottom lip. Her eyes searched his for the truth.
"You sure it isn't the whiskey making you think like this?" She prodded. "Because if you're looking for a one night stand, that woman who's been checking you out all night should be the one you use this line on, not me."
A couple of tears spilled out. She quickly dabbed them away with her fingertips.
"I'm tired of not knowing what men want from the beginning. And," she took a deep breath, "I want to be someone's only significant other for a change."
"That's what I want." He gripped her hand. "I want you and me to be together, as a couple."
Chris glanced over her shoulder at the man who had entangled her heart from the moment she met him.
"I need to go talk to Ethan."
Tobias felt his heart drop. He couldn't believe that this was the outcome of his confessing his feelings for Chris.
His fingers clinched around hers before slowly slipping away.
"Wait here." Chris told him, sliding off her barstool.
"Sure." He mumbled.
Tobias downed the rest of his drink, then finished off Chris's.
He watched Chris whisper to Ethan. The two of them headed outside to the back patio to talk. He refused to sit and wait on her returning to tell him she preferred Ethan over him. Why should he make himself even more miserable?
He pushed away from the bar and encountered the red head who'd been eyeing him all night.
"Hi." She cooed, smiling up at him.
His eyes drifted along her striking features. Though she was pale and had red hair like Chris, her eyes were a warm brown and she was a good deal shorter than the one who'd just broken his heart.
But...she was interested in him.
"I hope you weren't leaving without saying hello." She teased.
"No." He forced himself to smile at her. "I was instead going to see if you wanted to get out of here."
Looping her arm through his, she tugged him out the door.
*******************
Tobias's home...
"Chris." Tobias rubbed his hands over his eyes, hoping this wasn't real.
He'd been so certain he'd brought her home when he first woke up.
"You, Dr. Carrick, do not wait well." Chris teased as she brushed past him. "I'm sorry it took so long with Ethan. We had more to discuss than I thought when I told him about us."
She took her coat off and hung it up on her way to sit down on his couch.
"You told him what exactly?" Tobias glanced up the stairs at his open bedroom door and silently prayed the woman in his bed didn't come down to investigate.
"I thought it only fair to tell him we are now a couple." Chris explained. "I never was really certain what he considered me as, so I wasn't sure if our discussion would be more of a breakup or a rehash that Ethan and I never really got the timing right."
"Oh." Tobias sat down beside her. "Are you okay?"
"I am now." She snuggled against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Once I realized you'd left, it took me forever to find a taxi."
"I..." his heart stopped when he heard the familiar creak of his fourth stair.
"Hey." The woman he'd brought home said timidly. "I uh, I think I should get out of here."
Chris whipped around, eyes wide, at the sight of the person who'd been at the bar.
The other red head gave a quick, apologetic wave then darted out his front door.
Tobias tried to keep Chris in his arms.
She shoved him away, scrambling to her feet.
"Chris!" He chased her into his entry hall. "I thought you were choosing Ethan! I didn't know--"
"Why in the hell would I tell you to wait on me if I was choosing him?!" She jerked her coat on. "I can't believe that I was stupid enough to actually have thought someone like you would want what I wanted."
"I do!" He shut his door when she wrenched it open. "Please, just--"
She pushed him away and ran out his door.
"CHRIS!" He yelled out, chasing her down the block. "PLEASE, DON'T--"
**************
"Tobias!"
He jerked awake, gasping for air as if he'd been drowning.
He reached over and flipped the lamp on, heart pounding in fear of the woman he'd see in bed with him.
"Hey," Chris wrapped her arms around him, softly kissing him. "It's okay."
He hugged her close, burying his head against her neck.
"No more thirty-six hour shifts for you." She teased, easing back some.
He gently cupped her face. His attention drifted from Chris to the platinum wedding band glistening in the lamp light that resided on his ring finger.
"Bad dream?" She caressed his cheek.
"The worst." He settled back against the pillows, pulling her within his arms.
"Want to talk about it?" She asked.
"No." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Let's talk about something happy."
"Like what?" Chris laid down next to him.
"Tell me our story." He said softly.
"Our story?" Her lips curved as she snuggled closer. "Okay. How far back are we talking?"
"All the way." He slipped his arm around her to tuck her more against his side.
"Once upon a time," she began. "A young doctor--"
"Exceptionally beautiful doctor." He corrected.
"A young, exceptionally beautiful doctor decided to have breakfast at a cafe with a friend. She saw a man--"
"Devastatingly handsome man." Tobias corrected once more.
"I was talking about the man Aurora and I helped." She poked him in the ribs.
"The devastatingly handsome man approached you afterwards." He continued.
Chris propped herself up on his chest. "Am I telling this or not?"
Tobias began to smile over the memory. "I asked you out right then and there."
"You did." She conceded. "And since you were cute, I said, yes."
"I fell for you right then." He murmured, exhaustion begining to take its toll.
"I fell for you too." She pressed a tender kiss to his lips. "And so the couple dated. The devastatingly handsome man turned out to be a brilliant doctor who saved the exceptionally beautiful doctor's life."
"They married." He yawned, eyes closing as peace fell upon him once more.
"And lived happily ever after." Chris whispered.
Tobias's slow breaths allowed her a chance to relax once more beside him. Hugging him close, she fell into a deep sleep.
She didn’t remember the year she missed, or maybe she didn’t want to.
She remembered waking up, slurred muffled voices and the feeling of her blood being drawn from her body.
She remembers a hazy light above her that she looked at before a toothy grin came into view and she was asleep again.
She remembered being delirious, with fever or blood loss she doesn’t know- she remembers withering, trembling on cold stone floors and crying uncontrollably.
She remembers dreaming of Tyril, and in those moments she’s no longer adrift in a ever restless sea but she is simply floating in a lake, still and calm.
And then she dreams she is in a lake, the one they camped next to in the deadwoods, and she dreams of Mal, jumping into the water and smashing her, Tyril making an unimpressed comment and Nia and Imtura jumping in after.
Tyril looks at her, her finger’s barely touch his outstretched hand and suddenly they are in undermount, he tilts his head to the side and leads her to his room.
He sits on his bed and smiles at her, his voice is so far away- he’s so far away she’s with him but he’s out of her reach.
His voice muffled as if he was in a different room.
She misses him. Somehow in her dream she feels a sense of loss, an urgency that she can’t explain. She wants to reach out to him but she’s too weak so she stays slouched limply on his chair as he plays a lute.
She doesn’t think he can play the lute, but there’s something in the way his elegant fingers strum the strings and how his voice calls out.
A sad melody that’s ancient- older than them, older than his father and forefather, he sings in the tongue of threep, The old language long forgotten probably even by Tyril himself.
It's familiar but she can’t quite place it.
I lie as I dream of you. My ears are ringing, all I hear is you singing.
If I close my eyes I’ll be home soon.
Can you call them memories? each memory is a blur, She knows not if it was the same day or if it was night, Each time her eyes would roll back into her skull and her head would lull, unable to keep it upright it would fall back, and she would go limp, and then she'd be barely just awake, her eyes half closed and her body limp and it would start again a new dream like memory.
She knows the pain she felt when she finally woke up was nothing compared to the pain in her dreams, and though tired she could stand.
The only thing she knows to be true is that she ran, and ran, and the burning that went through her whole body as she did. It hurts! Her mind screams. But she ignored it, She ignored everything that wasn’t helping her escape.
and while she ran she heard his song, She heard birds chirping and her family calling for her.
She sees a woman that looks like her smile as she looks down at a baby.
She sees Kade, throwing a rock at a village kid for pushing her into the rocks in the river.
She can almost touch it- she can almost hear them- “come back to me, Odelia.” They cried in the saddest voice you’ve ever heard.
Her muscles trembled with every stride, her hands shook as she tried desperately to open a portal.
Hold onto those feelings, focus. Focus.
They’re waiting for you on the other side with honey wine and cream cakes- They’re waiting for you.
“Odelia, please come to me!” Tyril cries, his voice echoes and she hears him start to pray, an ancient prayer to an ancient god, long forgotten and long since they’ve answered prayers.
Opening the portal was as if it took the air from her lungs to do- she leapt inside and stumbled, unable to find her balance.
She fell to her knees on a groundless floor.
In front of her stood the man from her dreams, and as his cloak falls away she notes his clothes that she’s never seen before.
It was as though he wore weaved stardust, the strands of all that is and all that will be and of the stars around them bound together in his coat.
“I am the Watcher. We will speak again. Soon.” He says.
There was a sense of familiarity in his eyes.
The voice in her head. He saved her.
She felt her eyes roll back and her head lulled.
“No no- you mustn’t sleep here, my child.” He said, tapping her forehead once.
And then she was home. She was in Whitetower and now she ached, How desperately she wished to cry, but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why.
It only had been a day, they're all probably still here.
“Odelia you’ve been gone for a year.” Kade says.
He’s curious and excited and he walks a beat too fast for her sore muscles to keep up with but she tries, nonetheless. She's just happy to have him back.
She can’t remember if these are dreams- if these are nightmares she’s made up a trick of her mind or if there’s any truth to them.
So when asked she says nothing of her dreams.
“You’ve gone gray.” Tyril says, as they laid on her bed. he brushes her hair out of her eyes and smiles gentle at her.
It's much too soon for an elf her age to go gray, and they both knew that, The two of them knew more than they’d care to admit just yet.
He drops his hand to her hip, his thumb stroking an old scar she can’t remember where she got.
She looks different from she used to. The first thing she did when she got to her room alone was strip in front of the mirror.
Maybe two dozen knew scars- maybe only seventeen. A patch from her arm a little bigger than a coin was scarred.
Her wrists and ankles were rubbed raw as though her restraints were far too tight.
And the front piece of her black hair had gone white, There was dirt deep under her nails and an ache all over she couldn’t heal- no matter what she used, no matter what potion or scale, feather or salve she couldn’t get rid of the aches.
“Odelia?” He calls again, softly so softly. “hmm?” “You can tell me anything, you know.”
She brings him closer to her, hiding her face in his chest and places a kiss above his heart.
“It was but a day for me, my prince.” She says.
Because She can’t bring herself to trouble the elf that hardly looked like he was taking care of himself.
Between the two of them she’d guess he was the one being experimented on.
“If you say so, but if…” “I’ll tell you, if I remember anything more, if anything changes, i’ll come to you.” She says.
Its not a lie, not truly because if she finds out her dreams are memories she’ll reveal them, but for now- why worry her friends over silly dreams.
The elf had apologized to her at least a dozen times for ‘failing her’ she doesn’t know if he could take it if she truly was hurt.
She traced every new scar on his body, ran her hand over muscles that weren’t as developed the last time she saw them, and in the silence of the night where no one but they were awake, they held each other.
Each one is just as desperate as the other. But just below the surface there was a truth she refused to acknowledge.
She had lost something precious. She had lost herself, too.
Her chest felt cold and tight and her eyes burned with tears she refused to let fall.
“Thank you for waiting for me.” She whispered.
“I’d wait for you till I die.” He swore. “Just try not to do it again.” “Definitely not.” She agreed with a laugh.
Premise: Max and Sienna get cast as extras on a movie set, and funny antics soon follow.
Book: Open Heart (post series)
Pairing: Sienna Trinh x Max Valentine (M!OC)
Rating/Category: Teen. Fluff.
Words: 1,425
A/N: This fic was requested by @trappedinfanfiction from @creativepromptsforwriting Meet Cute list (prompt 15). Tagging for reblog to @creativepromptfills.
I'm using @choicesflashfics week 29, prompt 3 (in bold). Submission for @aprilchallenge prompt "dance"
The streets of Manhattan were teeming under the steaming summer sunshine. Native New Yorkers walked determinedly about their business, and tourists ambled on sidewalks, smartphones in hand, ready to capture their New York moment.
Cars honked, buses wheezed, and people yelled. It was noisy and exciting, annoying and fascinating. It was New York.
Sienna Valentine watched the drama unfold from the relative peace of a shaded sidewalk patio in Greenwich Village, and thought, “I’ve missed this.”
She’d attended medical school at Columbia, and this city had been home for four years. She had so many memories here. Studying in Central Park on a warm spring day. Taking the A Train downtown for a night out with her friends. Ice skating at Rockefeller Center.
Sienna had enjoyed her life in Boston and loved living in DC now. But whenever her husband Max needed to visit New York for work or family, she tagged along if her work schedule allowed.
Luckily for Sienna, Max had no issues making non-work trips either. An overnight trip to watch a Broadway show, a quick day trip to go shopping in Midtown or a romantic weekend getaway.
Life with Max was never dull, Sienna thought dreamily, looking away from the view outside to watch him walking toward her.
“Sorry about that. The guy just wouldn’t stop talking,” Max said, sliding into the chair across from her. He started to reach for his wine glass but suddenly stopped. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you want to drag me to the nearest restroom and have your wicked way with me,” he grinned lasciviously.
“I’d rather wait until we get back to our hotel,” she countered with a wink and a smile. “And then I’ll have my wicked way with you. So you might want to load up on carbs.”
“Good plan,” he chuckled. “Check, please!”
Sienna burst into laughter. Definitely not boring, she thought again.
They finished their lunch, talking and just enjoying each other’s company, lingering over their wine. While Max settled the bill, Sienna quickly called their nanny.
“Noah okay?” Max asked, clasping her hand in his as they left the restaurant.
“Yes. Mrs. Banks said he was still asleep and to take our time.”
They started walking east toward Washington Square Park for an open-air concert, passing leafy residential streets lined with brownstones and avoiding the crowds on Bleeker Street by cutting through Cornelia Street.
They were two blocks from the park when they saw steel barricades and a clump of trailers and trucks lined up along one street. Security guards held back crowds as a film crew set up for a shoot outside the park; light stands, cameras and film equipment were everywhere.
“Now what?” Sienna said, disappointed at having their afternoon plans disrupted. It would take time to go around the barricades and crowds.
She turned toward Max, but he was standing a few feet away, reading an information notice taped to the side of a tree trunk.
“Hey, Si? Wanna be an extra in a Hollywood movie?”
When Sienna glanced at him in confusion, he grabbed her hand and pulled her to his side, pointing at the sign.
Intrigued, Sienna read the words block printed on bright yellow paper. “Extras wanted. Couples only. Report to Production Office.”
“Well?” Max smiled, a hint of adventure in his eyes. “It can be our New York Moment.”
“I thought our New York Moment was that extravagant proposal on The Highline?”
“Who says you can only have one?” he challenged, arching his eyebrow.
Intrigued by the idea, Sienna found herself nodding, her apprehension about being on camera carried away by Max’s enthusiasm.
They were outside the production office a short while later, standing in a queue with other couples. A production assistant collected their details and directed them to a trailer for a wardrobe check. That done, they joined the others in a closed-off waiting area near a fountain.
“What kind of movie do you think this is?” Sienna said, craning to see if she could spot any stars.
“Definitely not a porno, given the location,” Max teased, his lips quirked in a half-smile. “I was really looking forward to seeing you in a leather catsuit.”
Sienna snorted. “I don’t have time for your prurient fantasies, Valentine.”
“You say fantasy, I say, meet me at midnight.”
Max took her hand and twirled her into an impromptu dance, their hips swaying to the jaunty tune drifting from a street musician behind the barricade. He tightened his grip on her hand; his other hand splayed across her lower back.
Well used to their rhythm, Sienna readied herself for the backward dip, confident he wouldn’t let her fall. Suddenly, Max tugged at her, and she tripped over her feet, falling against him.
Sienna giggled at her clumsiness, but his smug look and hands cupping her ass made her think it was on purpose.
She locked her hands behind his neck and leaned in, kissing the open space at the base of his throat where he'd left the buttons of his shirt collar undone. She felt his breath hitch before he pulled back slightly. But she wasn’t done.
Sienna stretched on her toes and drew his head down to place her lips against his ear.
“Are you trying to seduce me in public?” she whispered.
He chuckled. “What a thing to say? I’m just rehearsing. For all you know, my character is a suave international spy trying to throw the assassins off his scent by dancing with a beautiful stranger in the park.”
She scoffed. “We’ve both seen that movie, and it usually ends with the spy seducing the woman before jumping out the window.”
“Maybe in this movie, the beautiful woman is the seductress,” he said, amused. “And hopefully she has handcuffs so the spy can’t escape her bed.”
He said the last in such a deadpan manner that Sienna burst into laughter. She laughed so hard she had to wrap her arms around her stomach and gasp for air.
The production assistant walked over, still talking into a headset, clipboard in hand.
“All right, folks. Thanks for your patience,” he said hurriedly. “The AD’s just finishing setting up the shot, and then we’ll escort you to the set. Just some house rules….”
Sienna tried to school her face to pretend interest and attention. It didn’t help that Max moved behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and leaned down to speak in her ear, cracking jokes.
“Don’t feed the pigeons? Why would we do that?” Max murmured, deliberately twisting the production assistant’s words about not disturbing the actors.
Sienna covered her mouth with one hand so people couldn’t see her laughing, but there was no hiding the tears spiking her eyelashes.
“Wait? I thought this was a family feature. Why would we be dancing naked in the square with a clown?”
Sienna guffawed, and the production assistant stopped to stare at her. Embarrassed, she pretended to cough and waved a hand in apology. The man continued his instructions, squinting suspiciously at her.
She could feel Max’s body shaking in mirth behind her. As soon as the coast was clear, Sienna slapped the arm around her waist and hissed in annoyance.
“Are you trying to get us kicked off the movie? And you know he didn’t say anything about naked dancing. The extras are supposed to be couples dancing in the park to a summer concert.”
She shivered as Max kissed the sensitive spot behind her ear.
“Tomayto, tomahto,” he said, voice smug. “Want to go back to our hotel for naked dancing?”
Before Sienna could tell him to behave himself, the production assistant announced it was time to head out.
They took their places on discretely placed x-marked spots on the floor. After listening attentively to the director’s instructions, they turned to face each other.
The more it dragged on, the technicians adjusting lighting and whatnot around her, the more nervous Sienna became.
Max placed her hand on his shoulder and put his arm at her waist, ready to swing her into an impromptu dance on a beautiful sunny day. The setup was so similar to what they’d been doing in the waiting area earlier that Sienna’s nerves vanished.
“It’s a good thing we rehearsed earlier,” Max said, a winsome smile hovering on his lips, reading her thoughts perfectly.
Sienna kissed his jaw. “Don’t worry. If you mess up, we can keep practicing back in our hotel. Clothing optional. One more New York Moment.”
Synopsis: The past brings out new insecurities, how will they navigate through it?
Category: Slight angst. Fluff.
********
I drummed my fingers against the smooth cold mahogany desk, swirling the office chair round and round. I was bored out of my mind and with nothing to do, I always did tend to get a little fidgety. Cleaning helped calm me down, it worked on multiple fronts, I got the nervous energy out of my system, the house looked nice and tidy and time passed by without notice.
I had finished up the kitchen, the bedroom, bathroom. The only place left was Ethan's home office. I'd never really been in there for long, only when I needed a space to work or something, my limit only had ever stretched to his desk. Not that he would mind but there wasn't any circumstance as such. Even all of my documents were in the bottom most drawer of the vanity.
I grabbed the broom, mop and the rest of my cleaning tools, deciding to deep clean the place. I began with the glass door, scrubbing until I could lightly see my reflection in it. Next was the desk, I arranged all three of his drawers, onto the floor, the tiles squeaking under my feet by the time I was done.
I moved to his cabinet, finishing the upper half before settling down, opening the huge drawer at the bottom. I pulled it as it fought back, the hinges too lazy to move in what must have been years. I yanked it open, dust floating up. I looked at various papers, certificates, report cards, albums, yearbooks. I gasped, it was Ethan's old stuff. I'd never really experienced a truly young Ethan, it always filled me with insecurity, the age gap.
I pulled out the contents slowly, wiping the covers gently with my cleaning cloth, rummaging through the pages. I laughed as I read his elementary report cards, stellar as expected.
He used to be late every time! I couldn't imagine Ethan ever being late, a letter to Alan for sneaking out of class, a school project of My Family, with a photo of Ethan, smiling wholeheartedly with gaps in his tiny teeth, how adorable! Next to him sat Alan, looking so young I almost couldn't recognize him, he sat taller, a faint smile on his lips, eyes shining with pride. His hand resting on Ethan's cute little knee. I moved my eyes to the woman, her striking blue eyes identical to the ones I looked into daily, her dark blonde hair put up in a stylish updo, her poise perfectly regal.
I smiled sadly looking at the date at the bottom of the page, three years more and she would leave,causing a hurt an entire lifetime cannot replace. I moved on pulling out more memories, high school graduation, yearbooks, Ethan with braces, med school.
I chuckled, throwing my head back at a photo of Ethan and Tobias, Tobias kissing Ethan's cheek, the latter scrunching his face in clear amusement.
Next were his med school books, Anatomy, Physiology, pharmac, I blew a raspberry at the book, it had given me all the sleepless nights in the world. I flipped through the pages, his flowing handwriting sprawled through the pages, notes and markings throughout the book. Just as I was about to place it down, two photos slipped through the pages, landing face down on the floor. I picked them up turning them.
"Wo.. Ah" I mumbled. Not even in my dreams could Ethan look so.. young. He looked so...not my Ethan. The second picture sent a slight pang through me, an irrational surge of displeasure at the unknown woman. Ethan's arms against her set my skin ablaze and despite myself I began perusing the extent of her familiarity with Ethan.
It wasn't like we came to each other virgins, I knew he had his past but having a reminder of it is always unpleasant. I pushed everything back into the drawer, getting up and sitting in his chair, my haed swirling with thoughts. At the worst possible moment, I heard his voice call out.
"Penny..Are you done with that infernal cleanliness drive of yours? "
"Hmm" I made an incoherent noise, unable to muster the words.
He peeked in through the door noticing me, smiling as he made his way towards me pulling me flush against him, his arm curving against my waist as I other one dipped down to squeeze my ass. I looked at him, the lines on his face prominent, his eyes mature.
Suddenly the photo flashed in my mind, his embrace exactly the same.
"I need.. I don't..Ethan let go, please, now. " I pushed his arm off, nudging his chest away. He didn't protest, immediately letting go, a confused look descending on his features.
"Hey, you okay, what happened? "
"It's.." I wanted then and there to go on but it seemed silly to let something old linger, deciding against it, I shook my head. " nothing "
He raised one eyebrow at me, " Well, It's not nothing, I know that. "
"It's just.. really silly"
"I love when you're silly. "
"Not like that.. It's, wait I'll show you. "
I crossed over to the cabinet, pulling the drawer and holding out the two photos. He stared at them a beat before meeting my gaze.
"And? "
"Ok, um.. wow I guess.. I don't know how to say this but.... Uh, our age gap has been sort of an insecurity for me.. I just feel like there's so much of you, versions I never saw, people I never met, like I missed so much of your life that I lost this major chunk which remains a mystery, you didn't even know I existed when you were my age.. I want to feel like I know the man I love more than anything in the world but there are these years and years that remain.... undisclosed and I have to accept that.
" I almost feel like an adolescent you wouldn't spare a second glance, that you would be suited with a woman...someone like Harper I guess. Also, your ex there didn't make things better. All this, your past it's...How am I supposed to compete with all this of your past? " I signaled to the drawer, my hand trembling.
"You have nothing to complete with, you are the absolute winner, I chose you and not her or anyone else, cause I never could have lived the way I do now, with you feels so warm and lively, a home, a place where I know I am loved, where I can be vulnerable. You helped heal wounds and scars of a lifetime,you stood by me when I was bitter, arrogant, stubborn beyond reason, everything. You make me the best version of myself. And if you insist on wanting this one" He pointed to the picture.
"I think I have an old shirt. Wait" He held up a finger, walking out to the bedroom. He returned few moments later, wearing a worn out striped shirt, leaving it open along the expanse of his chest.
"Are you wearing my necklace? " It fitted closer to his neck, the gold chain glinting.
"Well, I don't have the black thing.. So I had to improvise. I know I have a past, too much of it, I wanted to get rid of it, move on from so much, anger, grudges, pain and you did that, you guided me to let go, forgive and leave it all behind. The peace you gave me, it beats all of my past in a blink."
I grinned at him. Oh, I never did have to worry about anything, not when I had the best man in this whole damn world.
I saw this picture and thought it might inspire a fic or an edit (no pressure 🥰)
I'm so sorry this took so long to answer @peonierose 🤦🏻♀️ I had a lot of Choices couples in mind for this picture 😂 It has taken me a while to think of just the right story for this one and I think I finally have. After seeing Ethan tortured in some of my fics recently, I decided to do a drabble of him and an OC I mentioned in A Glimpse. For this story, we see how these two got together.
(Ethan Ramsey x OC*Sophie Triano) with some urging from (Tobias Carrick x Chris Valentine) in a Choices Open Heart drabble
"Perfection itself." Tobias replied. "Chris and I had the best time there."
Ethan studied him. "You don't look very tan for a man who has been on an island for two weeks."
Tobias smirked. "But I do look tan enough for a man who was on a honeymoon with his wife."
Ethan rolled his eyes.
"Where's Chris?"
"Studying with Sienna." Tobias replied.
He eyed Ethan for a moment. Since they were alone, he decided to find out what happened after he and Chris left their wedding reception.
"By the way, how did you get back to the hotel?"
"How do you think?" Ethan replied.
"Who gave you a ride?" Tobias asked.
"Your brother did."
"Which one?"
Ethan stopped trying to complete some paperwork. He leaned back in his chair, set his hands behind his head, and focused silently on Tobias.
"It was Hugh." He finally said. "Why?"
"No reason." Tobias grumbled.
Ethan went back to work.
"If you rode with Hugh, then you must have ridden with Veronica."
"That would be a logical assumption since she is married to your brother." Ethan drily remarked.
Tobias refused to comment on that. "And if you were with Veronica, then you must have met her cousin, Sophie."
Ethan glanced up, eyes narrowed.
"So?" Tobias moved Ethan's laptop to the side. "What did you think of her?"
"She seems nice."
"Nice?" Tobias groaned. "Come on, Ethan."
"Can we get back to work or do you feel the need to bother me a little longer?"
Tobias shook his head. "Sophie is just your type."
"You haven't known my type since college." Ethan pointed out.
Tobias quirked an eyebrow and waited.
Ethan glared at him for the reminder he had fallen for Chris too.
"Sophie looks nothing like her." He bit out.
"I know that, but she has some similar personality traits that I think you'll like."
Tobias decided to drop that brief comparison when Ethan glared bordered on murderous.
"Hugh told me Sophie moved to Boston."
"She moved back to Boston." Ethan corrected, grateful to not be talking anymore about finding a woman like Chris. "Veronica and Sophie are expanding their business. She opened a bakery here a couple of months ago."
"Have you been by yet?"
Ethan rubbed a hand down his face. "I haven't."
He held his hand up to silence Tobias the moment he saw his mouth open.
"If I say I'll go by later this week, will you drop the subject and let me finish what I was typing?"
"I'll drop it for now, but we are discussing it again and again until you go see her." Tobias smirked at him.
"You are a colossal pain in my ass, you know that?" Ethan grumbled. "Go find someone else to bother."
"And leave you alone?" Tobias clucked his tongue in disapproval. "That wouldn't be very-- where are you going?"
"To see Sophie." Ethan snapped. "Right now, I'll do anything to get you to shut up!"
Tobias watched him storm out of the diagnostic office. He then sent a quick text to Chris, letting her know she could come inside.
So far, their plan to help Ethan find someone was off to a great start.
***************
"Don't breathe." Sophie whispered to those watching.
She carefully placed the last delicate sugar flower at an angle that defied gravity upon the five tier cake and carefully climbed off her step stool.
"Well?" She beamed at her staff. "What do you think?"
"I think we need to take them off now and store them before one breaks." Her store manager, Terry, declared. "You've got three more cakes to work on this week and the last thing we need is--"
"Ms. Triano!" One of the employees called out. "You have a visitor at the front."
Terry's voice went a higher octave when she began to leave.
"Sophie!" He cried. "The flowers!"
"They'll be fine." She winked at him. "You worry too much."
She chuckled over his look of disbelief.
Sophie couldn't help but be optimistic that all was working like she and Veronica planned. Ever since they were little girls with their Easy Bake ovens, they knew they wanted to open their own bakery one day. With their family's support, the two cousins graduated from the French Culinary Institute and opened up a bakery in New York.
It wasn't long before their cakes were featured in bridal magazines across the globe. Veronica and Sophie entered competitions on Food Network to gain even more exposure. Soon, they had orders years in advance for their baked treats.
They knew they should expand, but what made their cakes so popular, was that they each made every part of it themselves. They had staff to help with the mixing and all, but they were the true cake artists. Everything they designed from sugar blew everyone's mind.
For the first time in ten years, the cousins worked apart. Veronica needed to stay in New York with Hugh's work being there and their children were happy in their current schools. Since Sophie was single with no children of her own, she was the one to volunteer to open another bakery.
She'd wanted to come back to Boston for a while now. Though she thoroughly enjoyed working in New York, there was nothing like being back in her hometown. She needed that sense of comfort as she made all the decisions on her own. She still called Veronica multiple times a day, but this venture rested mostly upon her shoulders.
Sophie straightened her chef's jacket as she crossed into the main bakery. Cases gleamed under Edison bulbs revealing a variety of desserts. Cookies, tarts, pies, scones, cakes, etc. were all on display to tempt everyone who walked through her door. She did a quick visual sweep to make sure everything was up to her high standards before looking for her visitor.
Her eyes widened at the sight of the doctor she'd met at Tobias and Chris's wedding. Of all the people she thought she would see again, Ethan Ramsey seemed the least likely.
It wasn't that he ignored her at the wedding. He even talked to her about her bakery. He simply seemed to be preoccupied with something else.
***************
Ethan watched as she made her way over to him. He'd thought she was pretty the night he met her, but seeing her in chef's mode brought a smile to his face. She was in her element and the confidence rolled off of her adding even more to her beauty.
"Hey." She smiled at him. "What are you doing here?"
"You said I could come anytime I wanted something sweet." He spread his arms. "Here I am."
"And just what do you crave, Ethan?" She teased. "Are you a sugary puff kind of man or do you want something bitter?"
"No sugary puffs" He walked over to look at her offerings. "Though I will admit that most of this makes me think a diabetic coma might be worth it."
She laughed. "Follow me, Dr. Ramsey."
His eyebrow raised as he followed her off to a smaller room. There was a table and a set of chairs along with a cooler filled with various drinks.
"Have a seat." Sophie insisted.
She sat down across from him, pulled out a small notebook from her pocket and clicked a pen open.
"Now then." She raised her eyes to his. "Would you mind answering a few questions?"
"For?" He countered.
"To learn all your secrets." She replied.
His eyes widened.
Sophie laughed, shaking her head. "Easy there. I was teasing you. I'm wanting to understand your palette."
Ethan actually flushed.
"Then, yes, go ahead."
"Just say the first word that comes to mind." Sophie told him. "Fruit?"
"Apple."
Sophie wrinkled her nose.
"What's wrong with apples?"
"Nothing. I'm not a big fan of them. I'm more of a berry girl."
Her gaze dropped down to his white doctor's coat. "Though I guess I shouldn't be surprised with you saying apple."
Ethan relaxed in his chair. "They are good for you."
"I'll stick with raspberries."
"I like those too." Ethan added.
"You do?" She set her pen down. "Do you like dark chocolate?
"I do." He replied.
Sophie got to her feet. "Wait here."
She went through a set of double doors and returned with a slice of chocolate cake covered in a dark chocolate ganache.
"Try this." She handed him a fork.
Ethan's eyes widened with the first bite. A medley of the tart raspberry compote with slightly sweet chocolate left him wanting more.
"Good?" She prodded.
"It's incredible." He took another bite. "Best cake I've had in a long time."
She beamed at him. "Talk like that will make you my favorite customer."
He chuckled. "I'm tempted to buy the rest of the cake."
"No need."
She went back through the double doors and before they could shut, she was back with a black box tied with a white bow in her hands.
"You boxed the cake up before I even tried it?"
Sophie nodded a touch proudly. "I knew you would love it."
"How much do I owe you?" He got to his feet, reaching for his wallet.
"It's on the house." She replied.
"Oh." Ethan took the box from her. "Thank you."
Terry stuck his head through the double doors.
"Sophie!" He hissed without looking at Ethan. "The flowers! Carlton bumped the table and gave me a mild heat attack. Get them back into storage!"
Sophie pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'll be right there."
"You have flowers too?" Ethan asked.
"No. I make them." She waved goodbye. "Drop by anytime Dr. Ramsey."
Sophie paused at the door and winked at him. "I might even give you something else you'll love."
Ethan blinked in surprise once she disappeared. He wasn't quite certain how to take her parting words.
He frowned in thought during the drive back to the hospital.
"She meant more desserts." He told himself. "That's all she could have meant."
Once at Edenbrook, he sat in his car a few extra minutes. He eyed the black box and knew why he couldn't stop trying to see hidden meanings in her words and actions. He'd allowed Tobias to get in his head about there possibly being something more with Sophie.
He refused to give it another thought. He was too busy and too intelligent to ponder what women meant when talking to him. Of course, if Sophie did mean it in a flirtatious manner, then he would naturally respond in either a flirty fashion of his own or cold disinterest.
He picked up the box, a hint of a smile on his lips as he thought of her knowing he would love her cake.
If she was interested in him, he might be interested in her to.
*******************
A couple of days later...
"Any plans for your days off?" Chris asked.
Ethan kept pace with her as they walked towards their patient's room. "I'm going to the ballet Thursday night. They are performing The Sleeping Beauty."
"Oh?" Chris couldn't help but smile. "That sounds awfully romantic."
Ethan softly groaned. He knew what was coming next.
"Do you have anyone in particular you're taking with you?" Chris prodded, trying her best to look innocent.
"Chris." Ethan grumbled.
"Yes?" She was completely unfazed by the way he said her name.
"Tobias is rubbing off on you."
"I do more than rubbing." Tobias remarked from behind them.
Chris swatted him playfully with the file folder in her hand.
"What are we talking about?" Tobias asked, once he was walking along her other side.
"Ethan has a romantic night planned." Chris explained before Ethan could get a word out.
"Really?" Tobias looked over her head at him. "About time."
"I was just about to find out who Ethan invited to share this romantic night at the ballet."
"The ballet." Tobias slipped his arm around Chris when he noticed Ethan's face contort into irritated anger. "Can't set the mood much better than that."
"Enough!" Ethan snapped. "I'm not taking anyone to the ballet!"
"Why not?" Chris stopped him from walking on.
She placed her hands on her hips and backed him into the wall with her narrowed eyes and clipped tone.
"Are you honestly going to stand there and tell me that you are going to spend an evening of dinner and ballet without a date?!"
"I," Ethan hesitated. "Um..."
There was something about Chris's temper that made everyone take a step back. Even he got caught off guard from time to time.
But he wasn't in any mood for it today.
He glared down at her. He decided he wasn't going to be cowed by his former protege.
"I am planning an evening of enjoyment for myself."
Chris threw her hands up in exasperation, almost hitting both Ethan and Tobias in their faces.
"Men!" She grumbled. "Such a waste of bloody oxygen half the time."
Tobias groaned. "Welp, you set her off for the day. No man will be safe."
Ethan winced when Tobias smacked him on the back of the head.
"Don't tell her about your evenings for a party of one." He began to follow his wife. "She won't like it, then I'm the one left to deal with the fallout."
"She shouldn't be interested in what I do." Ethan grumbled.
Tobias shot a frustrated glance filled with pity towards him.
"What?" Ethan demanded.
"Chris cares about you." Tobias reminded him. "Once she calls you her friend, there is no escaping her concern. You know this about her."
Ethan stopped in his tracks. It was strange that it didn't hurt as much anymore thinking about Chris caring about him as nothing more than a friend. After their tumultuous year when she first arrived at Edenbrook, then having to go through seeing her fall in love with Tobias; Ethan was surprised they had survived it all to end up friends.
Maybe he was ready to move on and see what could happen next.
*******************
He decided he was ready to have a significant other as he ate dinner alone. Going to the ballet without someone there to talk to had lost the allure it once held. He still enjoyed his solitude, especially with the friends he had somehow become stuck with. This evening though would have been perfect for someone special.
As he walked into the Boston Opera House's lobby, he bumped into Sophie.
"Excuse me--Ethan!" She smiled at him. "Hello."
"Sophie," he glanced around to see if she was with a date, "it's good to see you again."
"You too." She too tried to see if he was with someone. "Are you a fan of the theatre arts?"
"I am." He cleared his throat. "Are you here alone?"
"Yes," she rolled her eyes, "I was given the Mcculler's box in thanks for doing a rush job on a cake for one of their parties. I've been looking forward to this night for weeks but couldn't find anyone who wanted to see The Sleeping Beauty with me."
Ethan's lips curved some. "I've rarely found anyone who enjoys coming here as much as I do."
"Where are your seats?" She asked.
"The Mezzanine, center." He replied.
"I don't suppose you'd like to join me instead?" She held up the two tickets she'd been given. "If you're alone, that is."
"I'd love to."
**********************
Ethan spent most of the ballet studying Sophie. There was something about her that seemed to give a sense of peace that he'd never experienced with anyone else. She was completely still, yet relaxed in her seat. Her eyes followed the movements on the stage while a slight smile graced her lips.
He then took in the rest of her. Sophie's dark chestnut hair cascaded down her shoulders. The white dress she wore was flattering to her figure. His eyes drifted down to her hands loosely clasped in her lap.
She was, he noted, the exact opposite of Chris. He wondered if Tobias had done this on purpose. Unlike the very tall, pale skin, green eyed, red headed Scottish doctor he'd first fallen for, Sophie was of a more average height, caramel colored skin, topped off with a pair of dark brown eyes and hair.
She was striking in her beauty. He realized he hadn't really appreciated that fact the last couple of times he'd seen her. He suspected that getting over his former love had clouded his mind from taking in the lady beside him.
****************
Sophie could practically feel Ethan's eyes on her. It took all her strength to remain relaxed in her seat. She couldn't recall the last time a man had studied her so intently. Men hit on her, but no one actually looked at her the way he was doing right now.
She didn't know if it was those piercing blue eyes of his or the type of man he was, but her nerves were notched so high that if he remotely made a move toward her, she'd probably tackle him where he sat.
She thought he was handsome the night she met him. She found him almost cute dressed as a doctor. But something about him in his suit, sitting beside her in the dark, made him almost irresistible.
Veronica told her she needed to get out and date more. Maybe she was right. Sophie had not been with anyone for nearly a year in preparing for the move back to Boston. Most of the men who came into her bakery were already in a relationship. It was rare anyone single came in, much less asked to speak to her.
Since she spent most of her time in the back decorating and supervising, she never had a chance to flirt with any of the few male customers who came in for treats to take to their offices.
Maybe that was why Ethan's attention affected her so strongly. She'd been longing for a relationship and hadn't even known it.
******************
The lobby of the Boston Opera House...
"I was thinking about going to get something to eat." Sophie looked up at him. "Any chance you'd care to have a late dinner with me?"
Ethan hesitated.
Sophie immediately regretted asking him.
"I actually ate earlier." He glanced at his watch. "How--"
"No problem." She nervously tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Thanks for sitting with me."
Sophie began to walk away, waving goodbye to him.
"Wait!" He caught up to her. "I was about to ask if you'd rather come to my place for dinner. It's late and most of the restaurants that your dress is meant for will be closing."
"Oh." She couldn't help but smile. "I don't want to put you to any trouble."
"No trouble at all. I enjoy cooking on my nights off." He offered his arm to her. "How did you get here?"
"Taxi." She placed her hand within the bend of his arm.
"Good. Then I can drive you home later."
*****************
When Ethan pulled up to his apartment building, Sophie's jaw dropped.
"You live here?"
"Yes, why?" He asked.
"Because I live here!" She pointed at the building. "Twelfth floor. Apartment B."
"I'm on the seventeenth." He told her.
Ethan couldn't believe he'd been living in the same building as Sophie all this time yet had never crossed paths with her.
Or had he and he simply hadn't noticed?
"You won't have to worry about driving me home now." She teased.
He smiled at her. "I can still walk you to your door."
Sophie laughed while getting out. "I'd like that."
Once in the elevator, she turned towards him. "Would you mind if I stopped at my place first and changed clothes?"
"No."
"These shoes have to go." She told him.
Sophie grasped his arm to balance as she slipped the painful high heels off.
Ethan watched her with a touch of amusement as she scooped up the pair with a soft curse.
"I won't be long." She told him while stepping out on her floor, casting a warm smile at him over her shoulder.
"Seventeen B." He reminded her.
"I'll be there." She promised.
*****************
Ethan quickly undressed the moment he shut his door. Tossing the finely made suit jacket and pants into his closet, he next tackled his shirt and tie. He settled on a light blue t-shirt to wear along with a pair of blue jeans. While pulling his pants on, he stumbled cursing into his kitchen to see what ingredients he had on hand for Sophie.
Her knock a couple of minutes later made him steady himself. He paused a moment realizing that he was actually excited about the prospect of getting to know her a little better.
He opened the door to find her casually leaning against the door frame. She'd put on a t-shirt like he had along with a pair of jeans. Sophie held up a bottle of wine with a hesitant smile.
"I wasn't certain what we were going to have, but I can say this is an excellent pinot grigio."
Ethan took the bottle from her, his brow furrowing with what to cook.
"Uh oh." She teased. "Is my choice of wine that bad?"
He looked up at her. "Not at all. I was thinking of what I could pair with it."
"Honestly Ethan," Sophie set her keys on his side table, "I'm up for anything. A simple ham sandwich would be great right now."
He snorted as he led her into his kitchen.
"I think I can do a little better than a ham sandwich."
"Really?" She settled comfortably on one of his bar stools. "Well now I am curious to see your cooking skills in action."
"I doubt they compare to yours." He remarked over his shoulder.
He began to gather the ingredients to make Tuscan chicken.
"Anything's better than mine."
Ethan' eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Sophie, you own a bakery and develop recipes for it on a daily basis."
She waved that off as if it was no big deal.
"The thing is," she confessed, "I can make desserts in my sleep, but savory dishes are where I mess up."
"Are you saying that you--"
"Can't cook." She admitted with a grin. "It baffles everyone I meet. Give me sugar and flour and I'm good, great even. Hand me that chicken and tomatoes and spinach and I'm going to destroy them as soon as I put them into a pan."
Ethan shook his head with a laugh. "I'm the opposite."
"You can't make desserts?"
"Not even pancakes." He explained about the meals he used to cook for him and his father. "Dad would just bring home ice cream or a box of cookies for us to have with our meals. He insisted I never pick up a bag of sugar "
Sophie laughed, feeling more at ease around him.
As the two talked, Ethan went through the prep work with ease. He uncorked the bottle of wine then led her into his living room. The pair sat down somewhat close, angling their bodies toward each other as they continued to talk about their lives.
He discovered that the thirty-three year old was highly intelligent, not just in the culinary world but in other aspects such as business and even history. Her ability to use humor here and there with her stories only added even more to her ability to hold his attention.
After spending so much time at Edenbrook, Ethan had forgotten that people outside of medicine could be a nice change of pace. He also found that she could easily grasp what he was talking about as he described what he did on the diagnostic team. Her questions were well thought out and actually made him pause a time or two to consider the answers.
When dinner was ready, they sat at his table, lights dimmed as they continued learning about the other.
It was, he decided, one of the best meals he'd had in a long time.
"Ethan, that was amazing." Sophie declared.
"Thank you." He got up to take their empty plates.
"I insist on doing the dishes." She took them out of his grasp. "And to make you dessert in thanks for cooking for me."
"There's no need." He followed her to his sink. "Like I told you, it was nice to cook for someone other than myself."
"If you ever need to do so again," she winked at him, "I won't be opposed to you calling me."
"Don't be surprised to hear from me often." He smiled at her, reaching over to finish up the dishes. "Go relax. I know you've been on your feet all day."
Sophie shook her head. "I feel reenergized. I haven't had a home cooked meal since I moved back to Boston. I sponged off Hugh and Veronica's meals once a week in New York along with having a set of restaurants around town to deliver my favorite comfort foods."
Sophie went into his pantry. Her eyes darted here and there as she went through the ingredients he had on hand. After another peek into his fridge, she set out everything to make a quick batch of sugar cookies.
"I see you found the raspberries I picked up earlier today." He teased.
Sophie blinked then remembered their conversation in her bakery.
"I hope I inspired such a wise decision." She quipped.
"You did." He picked up one of the cartons she'd set out. "Want me to clean these for you?"
She nodded while measuring her dry ingredients.
Ethan watched fascinated as she went through everything without having to check a recipe. She moved with a precision he'd only seen in the operating theater at Edenbrook.
"These won't be as pretty as my cookies at work." She explained while dropping spoonfuls on a cookie sheet. "But they'll still taste just as good.
"And what are the raspberries for?" He asked.
"Frosting of course." She smiled at him. "And I'm going to teach you how to make it."
"I believe I told you that sugar and I don't get along in the kitchen." He got up and came around the counter.
"And yet you have powdered sugar in your pantry." She teased.
"That was a mistake." Ethan explained. "The grocery store was out of granulated sugar and for some reason the delivery person assumed powdered could be substituted in its place."
Sophie laughed over the disgruntled expression on his face.
"I bet your coffee hasn't been the same since."
"It hasn't." He grumbled, smiling as he looked at her. "You can take that powdered sugar with you. After tonight, I never want to see it again."
"You'll want it after this lesson." She nudged him with her elbow. "Just imagine the look on your father's face when you present him with a cake or cookie with your homemade frosting."
"That's assuming I can make it or even the pretend cake and cookie you added to this scenario."
"Shh!" She playfully scolded. "You're ruining my future triumph."
"If I learn this," Ethan countered, "then you'll have to let me teach you something next time."
Sophie lowered her head, fighting a huge smile. "Next time, hmm?"
"You'll be learning how to make one of the dishes that you consider your comfort food." He told her.
"And when would this lesson happen?" She prodded, pretending to direct her attention to his food processor.
"I'm off tomorrow." Ethan stepped a little closer to her. "Or if next week at this same time would be better for you..."
"Either works for me." She added some more raspberries to the food processor. "I have tomorrow off too since I'll be working Saturday."
Ethan's voice held a touch of heat when he moved even closer to her.
"Then tomorrow it is."
Sophie could feel her heart race as she looked up at him. Her eyes fluttered closed the moment his lips brushed hers in a soft, tender kiss.
She sank into him the moment the kiss deepened. Her arms wound around his neck, fingers drifting into his hair as he molded her to his body.
The oven's buzzer broke them apart.
"That was a devious way to get out of your cooking lesson." She teased once she removed the cookies from the oven. "I'll have to remember to use it tomorrow night."
Ethan chuckled, moving behind her. He slipped his arms around her waist, placing slow unhurried kisses along her neck.
"We should work on the frosting." She bit back a moan when his hands began to wander.
"Doesn't the butter need to be room temperature?" He muttered against her ear.
"You're right." She turned in his arms, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss that left him moaning.
She ran her hands down the hard planes of his chest, a slight smile curving her lips.
"We have anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour to allow the butter time to reach room temperature."
"I think an hour would be best." He tugged her toward his couch. "Don't you?"
"I do." She gasped when he yanked her into his lap. "Maybe even longer."
********************
Two days later...
"What's this?" Tobias gestured to the plate of cookies.
"I did some cooking while off." Ethan told him.
Chris reached over to try one. She made a humming sound of delight.
"These are so good! I love raspberries."
Tobias reached for one. "I didn't know you baked, Ethan."
"I'm learning." He replied with a smirk.
Chris and Tobias shared a loaded glance.
"Is there someone giving you lessons?" Chris asked.
She couldn't help but be hopeful that a certain pastry chef was becoming a part of his life.
"There is." Ethan picked up the case files and smiled at the couple. "Expect a lot more treats like those these next few weeks."
[Mal Volari x Daenarya Masterlist] [Mal’s Orphanage]
Pairings: Mal Volari x Daenarya (F!OC)
Book: Blades of Light and Shadow
Word Count: ~800
Rating: Teen (just to be safe)
Prompts: @choicesprompts Rewrite Challenge: Psych "Ferry Tales" / dialogue exchange as requested by @promptnonny [Scene (first 28 seconds)]
Synopsis: Daenarya devises a new way to keep Mal distracted.
Daenarya and Mal found themselves at the bustling docks of Port Parnassus. The air was alive with the sounds of merchants haggling their goods and seafarers preparing their vessels for their next adventure. The pungent aroma of freshly caught fish filled their senses, mingling with the comforting salty breeze that gently caressed their faces.
Daenarya took his hand, dragging Mal forward through the throngs toward the small ship waiting just ahead. She had timed it perfectly, but they didn't have any time to waste. They were heading toward a remote island community off the coast to lend a hand in the cleanup efforts after a violent storm had ravaged the community.
"Where are we going?" Mal asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.
Tempering her smile, Daenarya led him onto the ship's deck where other volunteers prepared for the task ahead. "We're heading to Ambermoor."
"Why would we go there?"
"To help them clean up after the storm," her voice filled with determination, as she pulled him further onboard.
"If you had told me we were boarding a boat to the Ambermoor Islands to clean up, obviously, I would have said no," Mal replied, a hint of reluctance in his tone.
"That's exactly what I told you," Daenarya nodded in amusement.
"And what did I say?" Mal protested, placing his hands on his hips, certain he had protested this once already.
"You said no," Daenarya agreed, a knowing smile on her lips.
"Then why am I here?" he whined, scanning the surroundings for an escape route.
"Because you're easily distracted," Daenarya answered, her eyes sparkling mischievously.
"What? When it comes to mental focus, I'm sharper..." Mal's protest came to an abrupt halt when Daenarya presented him with another fresh, juicy Purple Parnassian. "Ooh! Thanks! I was starved." He eagerly took a bite, savoring the fiery flavor as it burned down his throat. The snack's tell-tale purple liquid stained his lips. "You know, when Alfonso says these things really satisfy, he's not lying. So packed with flavor..."
As they settled on the weathered deck among the crowd of volunteers, the sounds of the bustling dock faded into a distant murmur. The wooden planks beneath their feet creaked softly with each step. The call of seagulls sang above them, hoping for just a taste of the tempting treat Mal held in his hand. The cool, salty breeze caressed their faces, welcoming them on their journey. The ship began to rock with the lapping waves as it began its slow departure from the dock.
Mal's pout returned, noticing his exit window had closed. "Oh, man."
Daenarya smiled, pleased with her successful diversion. "And, done."
"How could you trick me like that?" Mal whined. His shoulders slumped as he stamped his feet in playful frustration.
"We agreed that if we borrowed things without permission and without the intention of bringing them back, we would do one thing to make up for it," she reminded him.
"That doesn't sound like me." His right brow arched questioningly. "Was I drunk?"
"Yes." Daenarya brushed her fingers against his, her touch relaxing him. "That changes the outcome, how?"
Mal's mouth began to open in protest, but Daenarya swiftly interrupted. "And before you answer with something like I can't trust your words when you're drunk, let me remind you of some other activities you mentioned that were very, very enjoyable for the both of us that night."
Mal sighed, groaning in reluctant defeat. "Fine."
"Cheer up—" She pressed a fleeting kiss on his cheek as she laced her fingers with his. "If you're a good boy and help out with the cleanup, I'll show you another more hands-on distraction technique I've perfected."
"What did you have in mind?" His mood lifted at the prospect of her proposal.
"Well, I was thinking.—" She chewed her lower lip, her gaze hungrily raking down his body. Her fingers danced up his chest, pulling on his collar slightly. "—we could sneak away and find a more secluded spot where I could give you a nice reward for all your hard work."
A roguish grin filled his face, but it faltered a moment later as his gaze narrowed on her suspiciously. "Are you just saying that to get me to go along with this plan?"
"Maybe..." She teased, leaning in, her voice a whisper against his ear, sending shivers down his spine. "Or, maybe... I like the thought of you all hot and sweaty from working, your shirt tightening around your muscles. Mmm!" She hummed; the thought alone lit a fire burning within her. Her fingers traced teasing patterns along his arms, relishing in how he responded to her touch. She playfully nipped his ear. Her hot breath lingered, "I guess you'll have to wait and find out, Mr. Magnificent."
The pair drifted through the crowd, settling against the side of the ship.
Mal's hand brushed against the smooth railing, the coolness of the polished wood offering a comforting spot to rest against. His gaze fixed on the growing expanse of ocean surrounding them. The now calm waters gave little clues to the storm that had passed. Daenarya wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder as he pulled her closer. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.
I hope you enjoyed this silly little rewrite. @promptnonny sent me this scene a few months ago and I never got around to writing it, but I figured since @choicesprompts is hosting a rewrite event, now might be the best time to finally fill the request. Thanks for the inspiration @promptnonny! I absolutely adore Psych so this request made me smile so much!
Summary: Caroline steps down as CEO of Edenbrook, her parting gift is a clinic that is also apart of Edenbrook that is located in one of the more working class and culturally diverse areas of Boston.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Pixelberry
Authors note: Submission for cfwc You go girls event. Prompt used is offering career advice
💡💡💡💡💡💡💡💡💡
To Dr Ramsey,
As you are aware, my parting gift to the hospital when I step down as CEO later this year is a clinic based in one of the more working class areas of Boston where there is a large population that is ethnically and culturally diverse. The main focus of this clinic is to focus on Women’s health, family planning, education and health clinic for those who identify as LGBTQI+, as well as general health practices.
Given your current Advocacy work in the Women’s health and LGBTQI+ space, I am pleased to offer you the position of Director of the Delores Hudson Women’s and Community Health Clinic.
The offer is attached. I am giving you two weeks to think it over and for you to give me your final reply.
Regards
Caroline Bloom
CEO Edenbrook Hospital
Casey sits there stunned. She knew that there was going to be a new clinic and she knew it was going to be named after Delores, but director?
The team under her and Aurora’s leadership over the last two years had gone from strength to strength, the research arm overseen by Tobias was going great also.
The offer was generous, but she was still not sure if she was the right person. Yes she had done advocacy work within the lgbtqi+ and women’s health space but a white woman directing a health clinic in an area where she was the minority?
Casey was deep in thought when Aurora entered.
“What’s up Casey?” Aurora asked.
Casey startled and then calmed down.
“Sorry, was just in thought” said Casey.
“About the case?”
Casey shakes her head and shows Aurora the email.
“Oh my gosh Casey!!!” Exclaims Aurora, “this would be an awesome opportunity.”
“I know it is but a great one but answer me honestly. Would teenaged you or heavily pregnant you be willing to accept medical assistance from someone like myself?”
“I get where you are coming from but you do have a good profile within the community for the work you have done and continue to do.”
“That is true but will it be enough…”
“When do you need to give Caroline your answer?”
“Two weeks”
“My thoughts, have a think, have a chat although I know Ethan will say to take it but I really think you will do well.”
Casey however was not so sure. She did have a good reputation sure but was that enough. Casey wanted the endeavour to succeed.
A few days later she had her regular meet up with Tobias. He already knew of the offer from Ethan and if Tobias was being honest, he was surprised that Casey was unsure of taking the position. He knew that she would do a great job so when Casey asked him if Aurora would be a good fit for the role he was surprised. His initial reaction was why am I being asked.
Casey stated that you worked with Aurora at Kenmore, you have worked with her here, you saw first hand how she did in a leadership role last year when I was on maternity leave so you would be a good person to ask. And besides if I am going to decline and send a recommendation for whom I think should be in the role then it would look good if there is another endorsement. Tobias saw Casey’s point but he thought that the clinic would be a success but he also agreed that Aurora would be a good fit too.
Casey then thought some more and she was convinced that Aurora would be a better fit. She met with Aurora a few days before her answer was due.
“I have thought long and hard, discussed, written a pros and cons list, you name it I have done it. I have decided not to take the role. I will be recommending that you get offered the position”
Aurora was shocked.
“I was sure you would take the position. What swayed you?”
“I feel the clinic will have more success if there is people running and on staff that are more representative of the area we are going into. Where the clinic is, I am a minority, yes I have done much work in the women’s health and LGBTQI space which would make people receptive but you have a good reputation in the same areas also but I think with you at the helm, you will attract not only the clientele but also doctors who are culturally diverse and fit in better with the area we are going into.”
Aurora reflects on Casey’s words. She does agree with her that she too has a good reputation in the field but it is one thing being team leader for six months and running a clinic full time.
“Am I experienced enough, running a team for six months is different to running and building a clinic up full time.”
“I get where you are coming from, we all remember how I was when I was initially offered the team. I think you are ready. I will be willing to help and also work some time at the clinic as I think it will work well in the rotation. Other doctors in the hospital I am sure will be willing to offer advice and help also.”
“This is true…”
“You are not the woman I met in residency Aurora, the woman eager to escape the legacy of Harper and was convinced everyone only wanted you because of her.”
Aurora smiled.
“So I will be turning down the position but recommend that you be offered it and Tobias will also be sending in his recommendation for you also.”
Later that day Casey sent the following email to Caroline.
To Caroline
Thank you for the generous offer of employment as Director of the Delores Hudson Women’s and Community Health clinic.
After much deliberation I will be declining the offer.
I feel this endeavour will be more successful under the directorship of Dr Aurora Emery.
Again thank you for considering me and I look forward to working with the director of this endeavour, whomever it may be.
Regards,
Dr Casey Ramsey
Director Diagnostics team, Naveen Banerji Community Health Clinic, Edenbrook.
Caroline received the email from Casey and the accompanying one from Dr Carrick. If Caroline was honest, Aurora was someone she had considered also, but Casey won out to be offered the position first.
Caroline got to amending the offer and sent it to Aurora, like Casey giving her two weeks to think before deciding.
Two days later Aurora accepts the offer. She is excited for the opportunity and so is Casey.
——-
Authors note: The clinic is a huge success. Most of the staff is reflective of the area. Casey does some work at the clinic also, especially in the Advocacy space. The clinic when it is fully established is added into the clinical rotation and the residents really enjoy the differing perspectives and challenges that arise from working with culturally diverse staff and clientele.
The clinic was named after Delores at Ethan’s request and with permission from Alma. Ethan did not want her death to be in vain, Delores also lived near the area that the clinic is situated so it seemed fitting.
Caroline is well into her seventies when she retires. She retires so she can enjoy life instead of just working.
Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks)
Rating: Teen
Warning: None
Category: Fluff
Word count: 2.2K
Summary: Ethan helps Sawyer remedy one of her biggest regrets.
A/N: This fic was inspired by an ask from @jerzwriter who wanted to know whether Sawyer and Ethan attended their high school proms.
Sawyer slept peacefully in his arms for a couple hours before waves of excruciating stomach aches began to crash over her. Having done everything he could medically, all Ethan could do now was hold her hand through it and hope that the others would be able to manufacture a miracle.
Sawyer could no longer diminish the severity of the pain. She cries and wraps her arms around her waist as the next bout of sharp cramping cripples her body.
“I know, Rookie…I know,” he gently rubs her back, feeling otherwise helpless. As her suffering subsides, Ethan eases her back against the pillow and dabs the tears from her face with a tissue. The dull reflection in her eyes concerns him. As the maitotoxin steals the strength from her body, the hopelessness of the situation robs her of the will to fight.
“What a waste,” she whispers looking up at the ceiling.
“What’s a waste?”
“My life.”
“How can you possibly think that?” he questions, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. With plastic covered hands, he brushes some stray hairs from her face.
“I spent half of my life doing what I thought other people expected of me. I’ve spent the other half working myself to death to become a doctor. And for what? I’m finally at the finish line and it’s all been for nothing. I could have spent more time with my family. Hell, I could have had my own family by now. I could have traveled. I could have… I could have gone to prom!” she turns and sobs into the pillow.
“Sawyer, you can’t think like that. Don’t think about what you didn’t get to do. Think about what you’re going to do when you get out of this room.”
They both sit in silence for a moment when Ethan shakes his head with a chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” she asks, wiping away the new tears.
“Prom? Really? That’s one of your biggest regrets?” he laughs.
Sawyer plays it back in her head and starts laughing with him, realizing how ridiculous it sounded.
“It’s stupid, I know!” she admits, “But it was just one of those rites of passage moments that I missed out on.”
“Why didn’t you go? It’s hard to believe that no one asked the smartest and most beautiful girl in school.”
Sawyer can't help the big smile that spreads across her face. A small win for Ethan as he tries to keep her spirits up.
“Thank you. No one got the chance to ask because I graduated from high school a year early. I didn’t get to do any of the senior year stuff like spring break, ditch day, prom, graduation parties…”
“I didn’t go to my prom either.”
“Really? Why?”
“I couldn’t justify digging into my college savings for an over-the-top one-time date. My dad offered to help with a little extra cash, but I didn’t feel right accepting when he still had to work overtime to make ends meet. And honestly, there wasn’t anyone I was willing to suffer through that kind of evening with.”
“If I had been in your class, would you have asked me?”
Thinking of all the things he would have done differently since meeting Sawyer, “I would have been the first in line to ask and I would have spent my whole damn savings just to impress you.”
She holds onto that thought as another agonizing wave of pain rolls over her.
********************
It’s been several months since the attack and Sawyer slips into a period of depression, the aftermath still too heavy a burden at times. All that hangs in the air as a result of the impending hospital closure causes overwhelming anxiety and sadness.
Ethan begins to notice the signs. Lack of interest. Withdrawal. Tiredness. Dwelling on the past.
To his credit, Ethan’s made quite the effort to remedy his biggest regret. Determined to make every precious moment count, he holds Sawyer in his arms every chance he gets and shows her as often as possible just how much she means to him. But he wants to do something more. Provide a distraction. Give her something to look forward to. Make up for lost time and missed chances. And that’s when the idea comes to him. He’s going to take Sawyer to prom.
********************
“Hey, Dr. Hottie! What brings you to my neck of the woods?”
“Kyra,” he warns.
“Sorry. I need to remember you can report me to HR now,” she laughs. “What’s up, Doc?”
“I was hoping for your assistance with a personal matter.” Ethan takes a seat in front of her desk and explains his idea. “Given your experience with event planning, I figured you’d be the best person to ask. So, what do you think?”
“What I think, Dr. Ro-man-sey… is you just got my vote for prom king.”
Rolling his eyes at the new nickname, “Ok, so where should we start?”
********************
A few days later, Ethan is in the cafeteria waiting in line for the cashier. From behind him he hears, “Hi, Dr. Ramsey!”
“Trinh.”
“Kyra filled us in last night and I’m so excited for Sawyer. Let me know if I can help in any way.”
“Thank you.”
“So, how are you planning to ask her?”
“I was going to mention it tonight during dinner.”
“No, no, no,” she shakes her head, “You have to come up with a cute prom proposal.”
“A what?”
As they reach the register, Ethan pays for both of their lunches.
“Thank you!” She follows him to a table, sits down and continues. “A prom proposal. Hold on…let me show you.”
Sienna pulls out her phone and opens the Pinterest app. She starts showing Ethan the different ideas and he vehemently shakes his head.
“No.”
“Ethan, it’s a major part of the prom experience nowadays.”
As he pinches the bridge of his nose, Sienna scrolls down the page, commenting on the different photos. “What about this one?...Ooh, this would be super cute…Aww, look how sweet…”
“Go back up,” he instructs and points. “That one.”
She pauses to consider, realizing that was probably as “cute” as it was going to get coming from Ethan Ramsey. “Yeah, that’s perfect. Here’s what I think you should do…”
********************
The next day, Ethan asks Sawyer to meet him for an afternoon break at Derry Roaster’s. He arrives twenty minutes beforehand to place a special order with the friendly barista who is more than happy to accommodate.
Arriving right on time, Sawyer greets him with a quick peck. “Hi.”
“Hi. I placed our order already,” pulling a chair out for her to sit. He notices the slump of her shoulders and the circles under her eyes. He reaches for her hand and holds it in her lap until their order is called.
“For Ethan!” the barista shouts.
“Here you go,” Ethan returns, strategically setting the cup in front of Sawyer.
“Thank y– wait, I don’t think this is mine,” she responds, looking around the café for a pair of teenagers.
“That’s your usual. It’s what I ordered.”
“Yeah, but it says, ‘Prom?’ I think this is meant to ask someone to prom,” showing him the writing on the cup.
“It is. So? Will you go to prom with me?”
“What?” she giggles, looking at him like he’s crazy.
“I want to take you to prom.”
Ethan can see the smile starting to form at the corner of her lips and a twinkle of excitement in her eyes.
Raising her eyebrows, “How are you going to do that?”
“I have my ways.”
“And when is this happening?”
“Saturday after next. You can go dress shopping this weekend.”
As she looks at the cup in her hand again, a huge smile spreads across her face. Her eyes start to glisten with happy tears and she moves into Ethan’s lap wrapping her arms around his neck. Placing a gentle kiss on his lips, “I would love to go to prom with you, Ethan.”
“Sawyer! Your date is here!” Sienna sings out. She and the other roommates all gather in the living room to see their friend’s grand entrance.
With one last check in the mirror, Sawyer makes her way down the hall. A vision in glittering gold sequins, but it's the sparkle that has returned to her emerald eyes that captures Ethan’s attention.
“Hi,” welcoming him with an uncontrollable smile. Her fingers run over the lapel of his tuxedo jacket, “Wow, you look great.”
“And you look–”
“Appropriate?” she teases.
“Will that joke ever get old?” he wonders out loud. Leaning close to her ear, “I was going to say hot. If we didn’t have an audience right now…” he trails off placing a kiss on her cheek. Offering his arm, “Shall we?”
“Oh, real quick. Si? Would you mind taking a couple pictures before we go?”
Minutes later they step out onto the street and Sawyer can’t believe her eyes. “You rented a limo?”
“Of course I did. It’s the prom.” As the chauffeur comes around to open the door, Ethan reaches into his pocket. “I have something for you. Hold out your hand. It’s not the traditional flower corsage…” he explains clasping a vintage Tiffany’s bracelet around her wrist, “but I wanted you to have something to always remember this night.”
Looking up into his sincere eyes, she kisses him. “How could I ever forget?” wrapping her arms around his waist, “And in case I forget to tell you later...thank you for the most amazing night.”
While Ethan and Sawyer enjoy a five star meal at an exclusive restaurant downtown, her friends change and head to the venue with their plus ones.
As the limo pulls up in front of the hotel and the chauffeur opens the door, Sawyer immediately spots a familiar face. “Alan?” she meets with a hug. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, I had to see my boy off to his first prom and get a photo for the mantel.” Taking a step back he squared up his phone, “Squeeze together and say ‘Prom!’”
Alan escorts them inside, and when Sawyer enters the beautifully decorated ballroom, her eyes begin to swell. There is a dance floor in the middle of the room flanked by a couple tables on each side. On stage a live band plays a Bruno Mars’ cover of “Just the Way You Are”, a popular song from the year Sawyer graduated high school. As she turns to Ethan, she sees a small crowd gathering behind them.
“What?!,” she spins around in shock, “I can’t believe you were all in on this!”
She hugs each of her friends and exchanges pleasantries with the newcomers. Elijah and Phoebe. Bryce who came with his kid sister, Keiki. Jackie, Aurora and Kyra with dates that Sawyer hadn’t met before. And Rafael who had suggested to Sienna that they go together, knowing she was still struggling to move on after Danny.
Off to the side, Sawyer noticed one other person.
“And where’s your date, handsome?” she kisses the older man on the cheek.
“Oh, I’m not here as a guest, my dear. I’m your chaperone for this lovely event,” Naveen jokingly clarifies.
“Well, I’m going to save you a dance anyway. As you know, I sort of have a thing for authority figures,” she quips, backing up and wrapping an arm around Ethan’s waist.
As the evening carries on, Sawyer hits the dance floor with her friends. Ethan cuts in for nearly every slow dance, only allowing turns for Alan and Naveen. Sawyer tries to get Ethan to stay for a couple upbeat songs. Arm looped behind her and around his neck, she rocks her hips from side to side. Ethan stands in place, and with his hands on her swaying hips it looks as though he’s moving along to the beat.
When the band starts playing another lively tune, Ethan makes his way to the bar for a drink.
“It’s like a trial run!” Naveen shouts over the music.
Alan clinks his glass against Naveen’s.
“What are you two conspiring about now?” Ethan interrupts.
“Naveen was just saying tonight could be seen as a trial run…for you know…da-da-da-dum, da-da-da-dum,” Alan hums with a crooked smile.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Ethan rolls his eyes and moves around them. “Bartender, a double?”
After Sienna surprises them both by announcing Ethan as prom king and crowning Sawyer prom queen, the evening begins to wind down. Naveen offers to give Alan a lift back to Ethan’s apartment. The friend group splits off, some heading home while others continue their date night activities elsewhere.
Sawyer finds Ethan, his hand outstretched to tuck her into his arms.
“This has been the most amazing night. I don’t want it to be over yet,” she breathes into his chest while giving him a squeeze.
“It doesn’t have to be,” he says, holding up a hotel key card. “I’ve arranged for a private afterparty in a suite upstairs.” Leaning down to whisper into her ear, “If you think I’m not going to make a play on my girlfriend and try to steal her prom virginity…you’ve misjudged me.”
“Well then, consider yourself lucky, Ethan Ramsey. Because I was definitely planning to put out for you tonight.”
Hey there! I am sending Tobias writers a random Jesse Williams gif and asking them to write a short fic based on it. Don’t feel obligated, but if you’d like to, have at it!
I believe congratulations are in order?
Book: Open Heart (post series)
Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Casey Valentine, Tobias Carrick.
Category: Fluff
Summary: Ethan has proposed to Casey and Tobias wishes to celebrate.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Pixelberry.
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The residency year was still a week from its end but with board results in, Ethan took the opportunity to propose to Casey. They enjoyed their private celebration. But now it was time to break the news with everyone. They called their parents first. Alan was overjoyed and did make a comment about taking his time. Michael and Christine were also elated at the news.
After they also told Naveen, who was annoyed at having loss the betting pool, they decided to post on social media the happy news for all their friends too see.
The post naturally was flooded with well wishes and congratulations. Casey was excited to see all of her friends when she was back at work on the Monday. Tobias saw the post and he was not that surprised that Ethan had proposed a week earlier than planned. He decided pop over and visit the happy couple with some champagne.
It was Saturday evening and Casey and Ethan had just had dinner, they were about to settle in for some more celebrating when the buzzer went off. Ethan grumbled, eager to be making love to his fiancé. He was not surprised that it was Tobias but again a little frustrated.
Tobias made his way up and and was let in.
“Congratulations” he said as he brandished the bottle of champagne. The trio had a lovely time drinking the champagne and when the bottle was finished, Tobias sensed that his welcome was soon coming to an end and he left, really happy that his old friend, the brother he wished he had growing up had found his happiness and in turn, that made him very happy.
