#and olivia and emma could pull it off there is no doubt in my mind. they would make it so delicious

[forgotmysword]

Sorry to all the girlies mad about the possibility of alicent going to oldtown instead of dragonstone in the finale but im here for the long haul. I want alicent exhausting every last option before going to rhaenyra. I want her as desperate as possible, begging for forgiveness after fully coming to terms with her life and her sacrifices truly being all for nothing. The day her life ended was the day otto had her go comfort viserys. Her and rhaenyra being torn apart was where it all went wrong. But maybe her youngest son, who she didn���t raise, who wasn’t poisoned by her or life in king’s landing, could be the one who saves her.

But he won’t be.

Bc in the end, even in chains, it will be rhaenyra who sets alicent free. It was always going to be rhaenyra.

[grapejuicestyless]

The Grudge

Harry Styles x fem!reader

The second part to You’re The Winner.

ANGST

Summery: based off of the song The Grudge by Olivia Rodrigo!!

Some nights I still wake up wet from my own cold sweat and salty tears. I rework the script I’ve perfected until my pen runs dry and the pages are crinkled. I scribble out each word and fix it until the cut is so deep it cuts more than just through the page, but to the reader.

I was never someone who believed in doing things so they were merely good enough. No, I always thought things through until they were at their very best points. Each sentence rephrased to make the viewer understand the concept of the conversation but to catch the deeper meanings and let it make more and more sense with each rewatch.

Now I lay awake, terrified of never being enough. Is my success nothing more than a false ego I have in my head? Do these awards that sit on my shelf hold any value if nobody could recognize them? If earning these doesn’t elevate me do they even count as a prestigious award?

I never had these issues, I displayed everything proudly. Aware of how lucky I was to be able to accept these awards so graciously. Body draped in the finest pearls and hair styles to perfection. I was excited to tell the stories when people would ask. Tell them about what I was working on, encourage them to follow their hearts. My insecurities were always just that, small thoughts littered in my head meant to make me doubt my self worth. Now they felt like more.

More than just metaphorical daggers stabbing into my body and mind. I wake up in distress from more than my own voices but his. I still hear Harry’s voice after all these months. It’s the sound of the insults I throw at myself, at everything I’ve done. It’s his voice I hear every time I think I am not enough. And what he had to say about my passions and how I execute them still lingers like a scar. I hold onto every detail of what he thought of me like my life depends on it and I break myself over and over again by finding deeper meanings in his playground insults.

The trust that he betrayed, confusion that still lingers. He took everything I loved, my confidence and my pride and crushed it in between his fingers. He could run circles around me with all his money and resources. He knows it too, be both knew it. I just never believed he would use it as a way to take stabs at me.

I still stay awake fantasizing about his little fucking sorry. How he was in tears when I finally pulled away. The shocked look on his face. I feel tough in the privacy of my room. Able to beat him up in my head and make him feel guilty but never to his face. I try to understand why he would do this all to me. I make up situations to lessen the blow. The fact it was unsolicited and simply something he chose to do for fun. Still, I can not let it go that easily. Not until every ounce of doubt is scrubbed from my mind and the voices in my head no longer belong to him.

……………………………………..…………………………………………

Sitting at the Oscar’s I find my place beside Greta Gerwig and Emma Stone. I feel out of place. I’m friends with them, I know them and their secrets. They’ve led me through the obstacles and the difficulties that come with trying to get into film making. They have been nothing but kind and reassuring over how great they think I am yet I can not push down the feeling that when the cameras flash to us I will be labeled the place holder to make the crowd look more full. No matter how lavish my gown is, no matter how nice my hair is I will never shine like the women who sit beside me. I will never stand out and make my name be known and it is something I can not come to terms with.

To rub salt in the wound I sit there and compare each category I am placed in to everyone else. I read out the nominees on the pamphlet they hand out like we are watching a youth theatre production of a marvelous broadway play. I barely make the cut for best assistant director. I read the names beside mine and I try not to get myself worked up.

I am not Greta Gerwig, I am no Christopher Nolan. I am Y/n Y/l/n. I am a woman who dreams bigger than she can possibly ever achieve. And I try not to get in over my head, but I always do. I strive to be the best and still I get trampled over.

I read the names over and over, flipping through the pages. I read the names under each category. Billie Eilish, Taylor Swift, Adele…I think about if I should’ve taken up music. I can’t sing very well but I have so much to write about. I have so many feelings and so many things to argue that I simply can not relay through film. Not at my level anyway. Joe releasing it must be to put a pen to paper and just write whatever you feel because the darkest emotions write the best songs.

It’s the sickest joke the way the names continue to go down the line. The eleven letter name in bold italics with an invisible circle around it and arrows pointed to make sure I see it. Harry Styles is up for best original song. Not only that, but I’d heard it too. Stayed up with him while we wrote it. He was so sure it wasn’t good enough and I sat there supporting him.

I stayed awake comforting him while he cried over his million dollar piano. Tears ruining the ivory and the clear shine. How idiotic I was to have been so kind to someone who so easily tore me down like I was nothing more than a pawn to remind him of his greatness. I knew the song was beautiful. His name was golden among the others competing for such an important award. One that would recognize his talent and secure his name in Hollywood. A lump formed in my throat. If I didn’t believe him then, I did now. I wasn’t some prophecy. I didn’t have a title to my name to prove. I was someone who got lucky once. My work was nothing compared to his.

………………………………………………………………………………….

They called the nominees for each category, listing off the winners one by one. We grew closer and closer to the major categories that would have the TMZ headlines buzzing by the morning. When it was my turn to be called, I couldn’t help but feel jitters and anxiety pass through my veins.

I’d heard about everyone else. All of their movies staples in my Friday movie night routines I had continued even without Harry there to occupy a portion of the couch. I laughed, I cried, I thought deeply about each movie. I couldn’t help but feel nervous that I was up against people so much stronger than I was.

My picture on the screen showcased my much more recognizable friends shaking my shoulders. We were unprofessional and excited to see how I could be recognized. They made me feel that even if I didn’t win, it was well worth it because the academy, as rigged as we all secretly knew it was, had chosen me of all people to list along with a handful of others. It was an honor for me to be here, beside my best friends and my hero’s.

The name that rang through the microphone didn’t match mine. It wasn’t even close, yet I felt fine. The hands slipped from my shoulders to clap along with the crowd. My photo minimized to showcase the woman who had rightfully won over me. Still, my shoulders were heavy and my heart sunk. How nice it could’ve been to go home with that. Be able to hold it up to the sky and thank my brothers and sisters for helping me get there.

Greta and Emma tried to make me feel better. Nothing hurt worse than working up an excitement only to have it ripped away from you. It worked, for a minute. How blissfully unaware I was that the categories grew closer and closer to the one that involved the one man I couldn’t bare to think about now. I barely registered the way they prepared the stage to announce his category until the talking turned to whispers and the softest sniffles echoed.

He looked handsome on the big screen. His hair was darker than I remember it being, I assumed he dyed it for tonight. His shoulders were broad in his suit and his face was cleanly shaven. If his eyes could speak they would be a jumble of words that expresses different emotions. He bit his lip and toyed with his rings. I caught him picking the skin by his thumb. I wanted to yell at him to stop, it was a bad habit we tried so hard to break. But he wasn’t mine anymore. I no longer existed as a best friend to him, someone else could place their hand over his and silently relay their own thoughts to him.

The sour feeling in my heart curtailed like milk when his picture took up the entire screen. The way he stood and hugged the people around him. He was surrounded by friends and family alike that supported him in ways I used to. If it were a few years ago, that would’ve been me beside him. His plus one to an event I was already attending simply because he was everything to me.

Watching him accept that award was the final straw. How he walked up to the stage in no rush, fixing his coat on the way and running a hand through his hair. He had a lazy smirk on his face that would make anyone weak in the knees. He looked confident and yet so grateful for everything happening to me. I felt confused by his attitude. How cocky he was in private, he was so good at masking the real Harry when it came to keeping a good public image. It was some kind of pathological lier type of bullshit that made my throat close and heart pound.

In his speech he thanked his mom and his dad. He thanked his sister and his friends. His ex-Bandmates and his producers. A full list of names, he went on and on and yet my name never came up. He thanked people who didn’t even know him on the crinkled piece of paper shaking in his hands. They didn’t know his favorite color, how he preferred his eggs. He didn’t like celery but he loved peas. Mushed, soggy, fresh. He would spoon them onto his plate like a mad man. They didn’t know he slept with his socks on because he felt scared something might try to grab at him at the end of the bed even now. He was childish in a mature way. Fears he carried form childhood that he couldn’t shake, they didn’t know that and yet they got the credit I deserved. I couldn’t do it then.

I could sit there and pretend to be tough, but I wanted to scream. I could sit there and say I was fine to everyone, be my professional self but I couldn’t act like it was okay anymore. To tear me down, to rewrite your past to fit the people who chose you based off fame and not on who you are, to get rid of what we once cherished was too far. I could put aside his harsh words for the sake of the night but his blatant disregard for my feelings after he’d cried over my leaving said enough.

When he left the stage I made my exit, mumbling something short of having to use the bathroom. My dress was short enough to not have to gather it between my fingers. I could walk quickly down the aisle and look at my feet on the way. I couldn’t make eye contact with anyone, even though they didn’t know me I felt that the look on my face would reveal it all.

The door opened harshly but had stoppers on it to silence any amount of force pushed on it. It made any angry outburst look accidental. The only indication that the door had been opened was the sliver of light the slipped through the opening of the main lobby and the dimly lighted theatre that held the greatest minds of film alike.

My feet hit the expensive carpet hard, heals digging into each design I wondered if my aggression would permanently dent the fabric, ruin the art in it.

It was colder outside of the room that I sat idly in, more free. The only people out here at this time were the few paparazzi permitted and stray employees cleaning up for the night. Flashes took my vision and I could see the headlines now.

How I would be bashed for simply showing my emotions. How they would paint me as a bitter sore loser who couldn’t even keep it together and act fine. I couldn’t blame them really. How would the world even know of how their favorite pop star had taken a hold of my heart and ruined any perception of love I had for him in a few short months.

The air outside was chilling. My skin was bare and in a way, in my artistic side of my mind I could pretend it was the literal way the world was showing how I felt. Tiny stabbing wounds across my arms creating goosebumps running up and down each exposed part of my body.

My car wasn’t there. I was out so early without warning, I became stranded not only mentally but physically. I didn’t care then. If I had to walk the streets of Los Angeles in high heals and an expensive gown. If I got mugged of all my belongings on my way home I didn’t care. I couldn’t be near anyone anymore. I couldn’t hold it together and I certainly wouldn’t fall apart for everyone to see.

Footsteps slapped against the pavement so quickly, I didn’t process the splashing of puddles or the heavy breathing approaching me. With my luck, I would already become a victim to a robbery before even turning the corner.

The hand on my arm came next. It wasn’t rough but it was firm enough to catch my attention. More than that, it was so familiar, so warm.

I felt the roughness of fingertips brushing under my bicep and the contrasting softness of his palm resting on top. His rings were warmed from his skin already, smooth against my body. I knew who the hand belonged to immediately. It was one I had held, toyed with and admired for years. One attached to a body that I adored, looked up to like a hero.

Turning, his eyes met mine. They were a darker green. I couldn’t see if from how far I was before, but he looked more tired, more sad. His eyes were dark not from anger or all the drinks I had hoped he was downing so he would forget about me, but because something was bothering him. Something heavy. He carried a lot of regret and sadness in his eyes that were once so free and careless. He seemed more calculated in his choice of words, more precise than his usual mess of sentences that came straight from his mind to his mouth.

“You didn’t have to chase after me.” I broke the silence, he was still catching his breath. He shook his head, looking down to gather himself. His pants were wet at the bottom from the pavement and his hair was falling in front of his face. I wanted to reach out and brush it back, but it wasn’t my place. I didn’t have a place in his life anymore.

“I wanted to.” He confessed, searching my face. In my head I’d like to think my expression was stone cold. One that was heartless, expressionless. I didn’t care in my head, but in my heart I did. I felt my lip quiver, I felt my eyebrows furrow. I was an open book for Harry to read.

“Why? So you could fix things? Fix us?” I escalated things quickly. I didn’t want to play his mind games. He was brilliant, people didn’t give him enough credit for it. If I allowed him to sit here and apologize while I was already feeling vulnerable, it wouldn’t matter how sincere it was. I would accept it and cave and by the morning I would hate myself for letting my heart take over my brain.

“No, don’t do that. Y/n, you were the one who walked out on me. I tried to get you to stay, and I regret not trying harder and if I could go back I would’ve begged on my knees but that doesn’t change the fact that you still left. I care about you, Y/n. You’re my best friend.” His voice was sharp, desperate. It felt so real, everything he was saying. I trusted him completely. I understood what he was feeling. Some nights I wish I had stayed. I had just put up with it. It was all the talk of my undying love that I held for Harry. A friendship that may have turned into a small crush in my head without me realizing. My undying love, now, I hold it like a grudge. The reason that forgiving and forgetting is so hard.

“Do you think I deserved it all? Harry tell me, please. Is that what you really think of me? As someone who deserved to be built up just so you could watch me fall? Is that what I was for you?” I begged him to understand what I meant. What I endured was verbally abusive, toxic, venomous. It killed me to know that my best friend thought so low of me. So poorly of the girl he swore to protect with all his heart.

“You know I never meant to.” He tried to defend himself, his hand loosened on my skin, falling down to hold my hand. His fingers intertwining in mine felt like tiny flames bursting out across my hand. It was so soft yet so hard, my body started to shake from more than just the cold.

“You are so selfish.” I shook my head, breathing in to look at the same bewildered face that looked back at me all those weeks ago. I remembered all the arguments I had won in my head against him. In the shower, in the car, in the mirror before bed. I remember all the things I didn’t say that I wish I had, all the ways I could’ve made him hurt like I had. It would’ve made me the smaller person.

The fact he looked lost about where I was coming from made it so much more difficult to not spill my guts to him there on the sidewalk. He made it so hard to not want to rip him apart with his oblivion and gaslighting tendencies. I doubt he even though about all the damage that he did.

“I just-I can’t wrap my head around how anybody could do the things you did so easily? You have everything and you still want more! You must be insecure, you must be so unhappy! I know it more than anything, I’ve lived it. Harry, hurt people, hurt people. We both drew blood but man, those cuts were never equal!” I didn’t touch him but to both of us it felt like I had slapped him in the face. Acknowledging his actions and mine that led us here made it so much more real, the end was so much more destined for our story. I tried to be tough, I tried to be mean, but still standing there after pouring out my heart and feelings I couldn’t help but crumble. A single cry tumbled from my lip. I shook my head and looked to the sky. Harry made no movement.

It was pathetic to be so torn after so much time apart. He should’ve held no weight in my heart, but he always would. He was the most important opinion in my life, even when he wasn’t present. When reworking scripts and giving direction, in the back of my head it became a constant question of if Harry thought it was enough. If it was good enough.

“You could’ve at least given me credit, you know I deserved that much.” My hand ripped from his viciously. It burned the way we separated so quickly. His eyes were stuttering over mine, his mouth tried to move, hand digging through his pocket.

I no longer had time for him, not then not ever. He could pick me apart, rip my heart out and stitch it back together, point daggers at my deepest hurts but he would no longer get these reactions out of me.

My escape was the same as the last. Quick and panicked. My feet hit the pavement harder than before and my arms swung with so much force, I was pushing myself forward with each step. Farther and farther, I couldn’t find the courage to look back like before. I couldn’t stand to think about him crying again. My hatred for his actions could never compare to the love I would always hold for Harry. If he didn’t deserve me, that would be okay. But I could not live with myself knowing I made him cry again. Not even after what he did.

………………………………………………………………………………….

“You could’ve at least given me credit, you know I deserved that much.” Her hand ripped from mine so quickly that it almost burnt my skin. It was like a fresh wound opening to feel her leaving not only mentally again, but physically. How her touch would never be in mine again. How she no longer belonged to me, I no longer belonged to her.

Her words set in after a hesitating moment. She meant my speech. God, how could I have been so stupid? To not realize how hurt she must’ve been to be erased so easily from the narrative. Like the nights spent together and the laughter and tears meant nothing. The piano ruined and her shirt soaked by my tears. The shirt that was really mine. I wondered if she still had it after all this time. It always did look better on her than me. I would give her everything if I could.

I dug through my pockets quickly to find it, the crinkled piece of paper with all the names on it. All the words I wanted to say but knew I would stumble over in my own nerves if I were to win. My hands were shaking so bad, I couldn’t grasp it in time. She was gone.

Something about this time told me that she wasn’t coming back. She wouldn’t stop. Not even the most guttural cry could make her look back. I had hurt her over and over again. Still, I wanted to apologize. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was until the word held no meaning and sounded odd coming from my lips. Like it was no longer real. She owed me none of her time.

So I stood there by myself, in the light rain that fell over Los Angeles, wet and alone. My paper was wrinkled in my hands, creased and bent messily. I looked down at the handwriting that didn’t really look like mine. How even in my excitement to be nominated, the loss of Y/n was so heavy it was hard to do anything. The pen was too heavy. I couldn’t do anything I once loved without her support. I looked down at all the names. My mother, my sister. They weren’t even first on the list. The first name I had written down, Y/n Y/l/n. My best friend.

I hadn’t read it out because I thought she wouldn’t want me to. I didn’t want to take away from an important night for her. Steal the spotlight from her award I was certain she would win by placing her name onto mine.

I was so sure she would win. She would be happy and we could reconnect. I had watched the movie, I watched all of her movies. She was the best of us. Always a talented writer, always having a new idea to jot down. Her napkins were sketch pads and her notes app was a dictionary of her favorite books and inspirations for shots. I know nobody with a mind like hers, one as creative and brilliant. I’m not sure why I tore her down all those days. Made her feel worthless when she was one of the best things in my life.

Even after all of this, she was and would always be everything to me. I could try and try and try to forget her and erase her from my life but she would always carry a piece of me around with her. I would always have hints of her in my home, in my wardrobe. She was everywhere without even being there.

She was my best friend.

[plaidbooks]

Hi! I love your work and I’m in serious need for some hurt/comfort..Can you do prompts 9. “Did it mean anything to you? Did I mean anything to you? 11. “I loved you.” “Then why did you let (her/him/them) get in between us?” with Sonny please? Thanks!!

Assaulted

A/N: Oof, this was a request! The first part was based off of that one episode (I think when they find out about Noah’s dad) where Sonny’s undercover at a sex trafficking party and focusing on asses...I mean, same dude, but come on. There wasn’t a whole lot of comfort at the end of this, but assume that they work it out.

Tags: sexual assault, mentions of sex trafficking

Words: 2317

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles 

You grit your teeth, nostrils flared as you watched the video feed in the NYPD van. The feed was zeroed-in on a woman’s ass, a tight dress pulled across her curves, as she danced with a john. Amanda, who was seated at the controls in front of you, subtly glanced at you, then at Olivia.

“Maybe we should remind Carisi that we’re seeing this, too,” Amanda suggested in a soft voice. Olivia nodded, shooting you an apologetic look. But you were still glaring at the screen, your arms crossed over your chest, fingers digging into your arms. You and Sonny had disclosed your relationship to the department, and while you knew he’d never cheat on you, he also had a wandering eye that you weren’t fond of…and this wasn’t the first time you’ve caught him staring at another woman’s butt.

The camera feed moved down to Sonny’s phone, Olivia’s message on the screen telling him to stop taking in the sights. He quickly tucked his phone away, going back to scanning the johns at the party.

“When can we move in?” you asked tersely. You wanted tonight over with, partly because you wanted to bust this sex trafficking ring, but mostly because Sonny now knew he was in the doghouse, and the make-up sex would be mind-blowing.

Olivia glanced at you before her eyes returned to the screen. “We need just a little bit more,” she replied. But you never got to find out what else Liv was looking for, not when a scuffle broke out and a gun was being brandished. You, Olivia, Amanda, and an army of officers stormed the party, making arrests and getting the girls out of there.

Olivia gave you the pleasure of arresting Sonny, who rose his hands and said a very sincere, “I’m sorry,” to you as you cuffed him, leading him out the door.

 *********************

Once at the station, Sonny apologized profusely, begging for your forgiveness, and promising to go to confession for it.

“Look, Son, what’s done is done.” You sighed, closing your eyes. “As long as it’s only looking, and nothing else—”

“Of course! I’d never cheat on you, doll. I love you, and I’ll prove it to you when we get home, just how much I love you,” Sonny replied, giving you a heated kiss. You resisted a moment before melting into his touch, kissing him back just as fiercely. It wasn’t like you didn’t look at attractive people as they walked by. Besides, you trusted Sonny with your life.

Slowly, you pulled out of his embrace. “Come on; we gotta go interview the girls,” you said, pulling him towards an interrogation room. You opened the door, Sonny following close behind you, but you paused for the briefest moment—the woman you were interviewing was the one that Sonny had been checking out at the party.

She seemed surprised to see Sonny there, no longer in his baggy, undercover attire, but in his crisp suit he normally wore to work. “What’s going on here?” she asked.

You gave her a warm smile, despite the anger that you were shoving down. What did she have that you didn’t? “We’re going after your pimp, and we’d like your help,” you explained. She looked doubtful, and you continued, “we can keep you safe; you never have to go back to that hell.”

“You can’t keep me safe,” she replied in a small voice. Then, louder, “and besides, I liked my life just how it was. Now let me go…before….”

“Before your pimp beats you?” you finished for her. You sighed; this was getting you nowhere. “Look, why don’t you tell us your name, first? I’m [Y/N], and this is Sonny,” you gestured to Sonny, who was still standing next to you, watching the interaction, waiting for an opening. Either this woman would be completely against talking to a man, or she’d do anything he’d ask…and Sonny was still trying to gauge her. But you noticed how her eyes sparkled when they slid over his tall form, and you clenched your jaw.

Finally, she looked back to you. “I’m thirsty. Got pepsi or something in this place?” she asked with an annoyed voice.

You gave her a hard look, and Sonny said, “yeah, we do.” Not taking his eyes off the woman’s face, he suggested softly, “[Y/N], why don’t you grab her a drink, eh?”

You told yourself over and over again that this was simply an interrogation tactic, that Sonny was playing her. But you were still seeing red as you left the room, heading for the vending machine.

“He’s just doing his job,” Olivia said as you came back, leaning against the glass and watching, listening.

“I know,” you replied, coming to stand next to her. Sonny had moved to lean against the table in the middle of the room, standing directly in front of the woman, close enough to touch her. You took this time to really look at her; her long, straight, brown hair, her small, perky breasts, her impossibly long legs, and her butt that Sonny had been so enraptured by. All of this was wrapped in a skin-tight, black dress that barely covered her chest and ended mid-thigh; though, the material was hiked up since she was sitting.

“We really can protect you,” Sonny was saying softly to her.

She looked up at him through her eyelashes, with her big doe eyes. “I bet you could protect me…but I don’t trust the police, Son….” She ran her fingertips over his thigh, and you’d seen enough. You made your way to the door with her soda, ripping it open. Sonny had the decency to look embarrassed, standing up straight from the table, but the woman just smiled knowingly at you.

“Here’s your pepsi,” you spat, placing it down hard in front of her. But before you could say anything else, Olivia was at the door, pulling you and Sonny out, but you could hurt your chances for information because of your anger.

“What the fuck was that?” you half-yelled at Sonny as the door closed behind him.

He put his hands up in surrender. “What? I got information from her, something that wasn’t happening with both of us, there!”

“Oh? And what information did you get, huh?”

Sonny went on the defensive, his voice rising to match yours. “I got her name, I got the name of her pimp, and I got when and where the next party is!”

You glared at him, pissed he was able to seduce information from her. “How do you know she’s not playing you—”

“Enough you two,” Olivia ordered, her voice cutting through yours. She waited a moment before continuing, “we’ll look into what Emma told you. We’re also going to put her in protective custody until we get her pimp, which Sonny found out is named Clayton.” You nodded, trying to let your rage and jealousy drain from you, but it wasn’t going away so easily. “Now go home; it’s been a long night. I’ll see you two in the morning.”

 ********************

It had been a week since the bust at the party, since the night Emma had come into the precinct. You and Sonny had worked through it; it was an interrogation technique, to flirt for information. And Sonny reassured you—with his words, his mouth, his fingers, and every other part of him—that he loved you and only you.

But nothing, nothing, could prepare you for when you had left for the day, realized you had forgotten your jacket, and rushed back in, only to find Emma pushing Sonny against the lockers, kissing him. His hands were on her shoulders, and as you watched, she wrapped a leg around his waist.

“What the fuck?!” you screamed. Turning on your heel, you headed for the door, needing fresh air, and to get that image out of your head.

Sonny pushed Emma off him, his voice calling out your name as he followed you. “[Y/N]! Come back, please! Talk to me…let me explain—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” you retorted, your voice venomous. You made it outside, Sonny right behind you.

“Please, doll, let me—”

You whipped around to glare at him, pointing a finger into his face. “No Dom! Just, no. I’m done, I’m….” Tears appeared in your eyes, and you cursed yourself for crying. You didn’t want to waste tears on him when you were fuming. In a soft voice, barely audible above the hustle and bustle of NYC, you murmured, “Did it mean anything to you? Did I mean anything to you?”

You watched Sonny’s heart break in his chest, his face falling and tears appearing in his own eyes. “Of course, you did—you do. You’re…you’re everything—”

“Well, you have a funny way of showing it,” you replied, waving down a cab. Sonny could do nothing but stand and watch as you got in, the cab pulling away from the curb.

 *******************

Sonny texted and called you a few times over the next few days. You ignored him, trying to work through your anger so that you could at least be levelheaded when you talked to him next. But not being able to go to work, and living in a fucking hotel room, wasn’t helping your rage. You had thought about going to your shared apartment when Sonny was at work, but the thought on packing things up filled you with dread. So, you waited, trying to work through your emotions.

Suddenly, there was a knock at your door, Sonny’s voice coming through it. “[Y/N], I know you’re in there. Come on, let’s talk.” You folded your arms across your chest stubbornly, not moving from your bed. You could hear him sigh, then say something muffled to someone else. There was a beep, and then your door was opened, the hotel manager having let him in.

“Fucking really? Take a hint, Dom—”

“Please, just…please listen,” Sonny said, coming into your room and closing the door behind him. You glared daggers at him, ignoring the way your heart strained at seeing him. He looked haggard; his face scruffy, his eyes bloodshot, his hair a mess, his Henley untucked and stained.

“Fine. What do you want to say?” you spat, trying to hang onto that anger that was quickly fleeing at the sight of his defeated form.

“I—I loved you, still do, with all my heart—”

“Then why did you let her get in between us?” you asked softly, and the fight drained from you as he winced, as if you had hit him.

Sonny looked crestfallen. “I—I didn’t, though. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you; Emma…she—she assaulted me…not that I’m pressing charges, but I swear to you—”

“And you expect me to believe that? After you were ogling her? Flirting with her?”

He cleared his throat. “I can prove it. There’re security cameras in the locker room…. I—Liv already showed me the footage.” Sonny’s shoulders slumped, and he looked at the floor. “Ya know, we’ve had so many victims tell us that they…that they freeze. And I never really understood that until now…. When—when Emma pushed up against me…when she kissed me, I—I froze. I couldn’t bring myself to shove her….”

You scrutinized Sonny, trying to see any trace of a lie, but you only found a sad, remorseful man. “Fine. Show me,” you said, getting up.

 ********************

The ride to the precinct was quiet, the wait for TARU to pull up the footage even quieter, tension thick in the air. You watched with wide eyes as Emma entered the precinct, just after the elevator doors closed behind you—she had taken the stairs. She had quickly found Sonny, started touching him: his arms, his chest. Being the good detective he was, Sonny tried to gently stop her, push her away. You watched as he led her to an interview room, then he left to go to the vending machine, presumably to get her a drink. On his way back, Emma had cornered him in the locker room, which you had to pass through to get to the vending machine. She reached out to touch Sonny’s chest, but he gave her a little shove, obviously losing patience with her. And that’s when she flung herself onto him, kissing him, and he stumbled backwards from the force of her body colliding with his. He was pressed against the lockers, and he dropped the can of soda, his hands hanging limply for a moment. Then his hands went to her shoulders, and he tried to push her, but she latched on tighter, pulling herself closer.

You watched, tears in your eyes as you appeared in the doorway, catching Emma sexually assaulting your boyfriend, and blaming him for it. You could feel Sonny’s gaze on your face as you watched the screen, even as TARU stopped the playback. Your heart was in your throat, and you tried to swallow past the lump.

“D-Dominick…I’m so…” you started, but he cut you off with a hug, his arms pulling you tightly to his chest.

“I know—I get it, okay? I understand,” he murmured into your hair. You hugged him back, sobbing softly into his chest.

“I love you, Dom…I’m so sorry, baby. I love you,” you whispered, tugging him impossibly closer.

“I love you, too, sweetheart; I would never cheat on you, ever.” Sonny’s long fingers stroked your hair. “Come on, come home with me, please. I’ve missed you so much.”

You were already nodding against him. “I’ve missed you, too.” You both headed out of the precinct, an arm wrapped possessively around each other. “I’m gonna punch Emma in the face next time I see her,” you promised.

Sonny laughed. “That’s fair…. At least she gave up her pimp.”

“Yeah, but I don’t share.”

[let-it-raines]

Walking the Baseline (1/1)

He’s at the top of his game. She’s in the midst of a comeback. The Olympics are just around the corner, and there’s more than gold medals on the line. There’s secrets and personal lives and a lot more at risk than simply losing, but as most know, Killian Jones and Emma Swan hate to lose. 

rating: mature (just to err on the safe side)

a/n: Hello, hello, my darlings! I was informed of the @captainswanolympics as I’ve missed so much in my time of only checking messages and posting YWUSS, and I just had to write a tennis AU. If you know me, you know I played tennis back in the day, worked behind the scenes for a professional tennis tournament, and am an avid fan, so the fact that I haven’t written more CS tennis is surprising. lol. 

This one is short and sweet, and it’s the first CS I’ve written in months. So I genuinely hope you enjoy it. And no, you don’t have to know tennis to understand 🎾 

ao3: | here |

tag list: @qualitycoffeethings​ @mrtinski​ @klynn-stormz​ @scarletslippers​ @jonirobinson64​ @snowbellewells​ @therealstartraveller776​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @sherifemma​ @galaxyzxstark​ @galadriel26​ @idristardis​ @karenfrommisthaven​ @teamhook​ @spartanguard​ @searchingwardrobes​ @jamif​ @shireness-says​ @ultimiflos​ @nikkiemms​ @onepunintendid​ @bluewildcatfanatic​ @superchocovian​ @killianswannn​ @carpedzem​ @captainkillianswanjones​ @mayquita​ @mariakov81​ @jennjenn615​ @onceuponaprincessworld​ @a-faekindagirl​ @scientificapricot​ @xellewoods​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @stahlop​ @kmomof4​ @tiganasummertree​ @singersdd​ @tornadoamy​ @cluttermind​ @lfh1226-linda​ @andiirivera​ @itsfabianadocarmo​

-/-

“My legs feel like jelly,” Emma sighs as she sinks into an ice bath. It’s never pleasant, and it may not even help, but it makes her feel better every time. “Like, I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk when I get out of here. I don’t think I can even stand now.”

“You say that after every long match,” David tells her, clicking away at his iPad. There’s no doubt he’s studying her stats and about to pick her apart in a friendly yet incredibly harsh way that is a David trademark. “Is your shoulder okay? Your first serve percentage was up, but your speed was down.”

Yep. He’s so predictable. She knew that was coming the moment she decided to change the speed on her serves.

“I’m fine. I’m tired. I mean, shit, David. It’s like the tour is trying to ruin our bodies. My last two-week break was when? March? It’s almost August, and it’s not going to stop there.”

“You’ve made it before. You can do it again.”

“That’s not encouraging.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me that I don’t have to do this.”

David looks up from his iPad, brow raised, and she knows she’s not going to get the answer she wants. He doesn’t tell her she can quit unless they’re in a heated argument after disagreeing on her service motion or her footwork, which will always be her downfall when she’s exhausted, or any other aspect of her game. That’s what happens when your coach is not only your couch but also your older brother.

“I’m not going to say that. You’re in the quarterfinals. You play against Svitolina, who you have an excellent record against, and then in the semis, it could go either way with French or Stephens. That’s who we’re worried about. We’re not thinking about the finals until we’re in the finals.”

“I’m not thinking about just the finals. I’m thinking about the fact that I played Madrid, Rome, Roland Garros, Eastbourne, Wimbledon, Washington, here. And now I’m supposed to fly to Rio for the Olympics, then fly to Cincinnati, and then New York. And after New York, we almost immediately fly to Beijing, and it doesn’t stop. I get, what? A month and a half off, but it’s not really off time because we spend that time fixing everything for next season. The only way I get a break is if I lose or I get injured, and I don’t want either of those things.”

Emma’s chest heaves as she finishes speaking, the words flying out faster than her mind can come up with them as she runs through her tournament schedule, and David doesn’t blink. He stares at her like he always does, and sometimes she swears it’s like staring at a male version of herself. And she knows what’s coming. She always does. David never got to play past college, the professional circuit too much for his body, and he always pulls the card of how much he would give to be playing right now, to be in her position. She gets it. If she was in his position, she would do the same thing, but right now, all she really wants is to cry.

“You have worked too hard to quit, Emma,” David sighs, giving her a patented big-brother condescending stare. “You are not going to quit. I know this part of the season is rough, but you push through it every year. And imagine how good it’s going to feel when you have a gold medal around your neck or when you have that US Open trophy in your hands. You don’t get to play forever, and you’re the one who said that you weren’t quitting when everyone would have easily expected it. Do you want to prove them right?”

Emma moves in the bath, sinking a little lower, and damn, her sports bra is going to be impossible to get off. Her gaze shifts from David to the TV where ESPN commentators are sitting at a desk, her Nike-approved picture on the screen beside them. They run through the stats of her match and then her overall career stats. She’s twenty-eight, which is apparently at the end of her career according to them, world number seven, which is also abysmal to them somehow, and she is not living up to her potential when she is a former world number one, six-time grand slam champion, and a gold medalist from four years ago in London.

She groans and tries not to think about how much she hates all the people who work for ESPN. They have their favorites and the ones they hate, and since she is not a mediocre American male or one of the all-time greats, she’s somewhere in between. Usually, she doesn’t listen to the comments, to the pundits, to the assholes. She tries to stay away from that because it will drive her into a deep state of negativity, but lately, it’s like she can’t get enough of listening to what people say about her as if it is going to give her some kind of insight to her game.

She doesn’t crave their validation, but maybe, in a twisted way, she does.

“She gave birth sixteen months ago,” Mary Jo sighs. “She came back a year after giving birth. She is not going to be who she was before she had a child. The fact that she’s won enough this year to be in the top ten is amazing when she started with no ranking since there are no tour protections for maternity leave. She’s a champion, and sometimes champions struggle as they get their form back.”

“Sixteen months is a long damn time,” Patrick says, and Emma’s vagina would beg to differ. “She should be back to how she was or she shouldn’t be playing.”

“Have you given birth, Patrick? Because unless you have, I don’t think you get a say.”

“It’s my job to say what I think.”

“Still, I think – ”

The television clicks off, and Emma’s gaze finds its way back to David. “We’re not listening to them. It’ll piss you off. Mary Jo is right. You’re doing amazing, and I don’t want you to forget that.”

Emma doesn’t know if she’s doing amazing, doesn’t feel that way a lot of the time. This job is hard enough, to kill your body while also having the eyes of the world on you, but adding in a baby? It’s nearly impossible. A few other women have done it before her, not all with spectacular returns or returns at all, and she wants to keep getting better and play for long enough that Olivia will be able to see her mom play and remember it.

She’s not just doing it for herself. She’s doing it for her daughter, whose entrance into the world was unplanned, terrifying, and the best damn thing to ever happen to Emma even if she doubts herself in motherhood every day.

“I miss her,” Emma whispers to David, reaching up to play with her necklace, Olivia’s initials engraved in the gold circle. “I don’t know how I’m going to make it two more weeks without seeing her.”

“Do you want me to get Mary Margaret to FaceTime you with her? They’ve been watching your match at home.”

“No, no.” She shakes her head and releases the pendant, her resolve back as she inhales and focuses on her job. “Let’s do the rest of my recovery and talk about the match. I’ll call them when we get back to the hotel. I don’t want to get my mind too much out of the game.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

-/-

She wins her next match. And the next.

She loses in the final.

It stings more than her losses usually do, and there have been a hell of a lot of them, but she wanted to win another premiere event. She’s only been winning small events so far this year and making it to the later stages of the bigger events, but she keeps falling short when it’s time for her to push herself over the limit. Emma knows that her time will come, but she’s exhausted.

-/-

She flies to Rio with the rest of the American team who were playing in Montreal and Toronto, and she sleeps the entire ride down.

It’s the most sleep she’s gotten since she gave birth.

-/-

The 2012 Olympics felt familiar for Emma. The matches happened at Wimbledon, a place she’s known since she was sixteen years old and has watched on TV since she was even younger than that. Tennis players were isolated from the rest of the sports and events, and they all stayed in their usual rented houses and apartments instead of the Village or other hotels. Rio is different and completely unfamiliar. She’s staying in the Village, and while the amenities aren’t the best, the spirit of the Games are everywhere. She’s seeing athletes she’s only ever seen on TV before, meeting dozens of people whose names quickly slip out of her mind no matter how hard she tries to keep them there, and it’s impossible not to get excited to see all of these great athletes gathered together.

When she was a kid sitting in a foster home with David, the two of them wondering if they’d ever have a forever home, they would watch reruns of the Olympics on the TV, just waiting for the live ones to come around. It was an escape to get to watch people only a few years older than them doing these great things, and even after Ruth adopted them and paid for them to play sports, they never could have imagined being here.

Emma, sitting on a park bench outside with prestigious gymnasts walking in front of her, still can’t imagine it, and she’s literally here.

“Am I allowed to sit here or is that considered fraternizing with the enemy?”

Emma glances up and sees Killian Jones already sliding onto the bench in front of her. He’s darker than the last time she saw him in person, his hair longer, teeth possibly whiter, and he definitely hasn’t shaved in a few too many days. But the cocky, almost a little too arrogant, smile is the same, and even if she said no, he would still sit across from her. She knows him well enough to know that now.

“As far as I’m aware, you’re not playing mixed doubles, so I don’t think you count as an enemy.”

“Ah, but, love, Americans and Brits have been enemies since the beginning. That doesn’t change here.”

“Everyone else gets along. You’re just a competitive ass.”

“Indeed I am.” He wiggles his brows and leans forward, smirk stretched across his lips. “So, I was handed a bag full of Olympic-themed condoms when I checked in. Would you like to go try them out?”

“Shut up,” Emma laughs, kicking his leg. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Too many things to count.” He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest, muscles ever-so-slightly bulging underneath his Team Great Britain t-shirt. She’s wearing a similar one with USA emblazoned in the biggest font she’s ever seen. Not a lot of subtly going on at the moment. “Where’s Ruby? David? Any of the other Americans? Shouldn’t you all be eating or practicing or doing something besides sitting on a bench by the water?”

“Shouldn’t you?”

“Touché, Swan. Touché. Will and I were on the way to eat, but I saw you and got distracted. I don’t have practice until later. Rob is forcing me to give myself a break so I don’t exhaust myself after Toronto.”

“Well, you do have old bones.”

“Oi, I am thirty-two and at the top of my game. How many people can say that?”

“Anyone who is not an athlete.”

Killian shrugs and tilts his head to the side, rolling his shoulders. He’s right, though. Killian is playing better than he ever has. He’s always been good ever since he was touted to be Great Britain’s next big thing. She watched for years as the British media slagged him off for not having won Wimbledon despite having won the other majors two times around, but six years ago, he won after a five-hour, grueling match and fell onto the ground. The image was everywhere, and now, every time she’s in London or Wimbledon, that image lines the walls. It’s how she felt when she won the US Open. All of the major are special, but winning your home one, if you’re lucky enough to have one, is something else. And now Killian is world number one once more, has won two majors in a row with several premiere events in between, and with his form, she can’t imagine him losing.

But that’s why you lace up the sneakers. You never know what’s going to happen.

She’s been around the game long enough to know that.

Killian too.

Their paths have crossed for years, mostly because they have the same sponsors and do a lot of promotional events together, but the more they both started winning, the more they’d see each other at tournaments and dinners and everything in between. It’s a busy life, and while there’s time to make friends outside of tennis, sometimes it’s easier to find people in the industry.

She’s not entirely sure she would call Killian Jones a friend.

“Have you eaten, love?” he asks.

“Not yet.” On cue, her stomach growls, and he smirks, not that he really stopped.

“Why don’t you come with me? You can sit with us before we take the bus to the courts for training.”

“What happened to fraternizing with the enemy?”

He leans forward and winks. “For you, I’ll make an exception.”

Emma laughs but nods and stands with Killian as they walk to the main dining hall. It’s packed, the room echoing with conversation and laughter, and Emma and Killian are stopped several times to take pictures and sign autographs, something she will never get used to, before they sit down with Will, Rob, and several other plays from all around the world. For a minute, it’s like they’re in their usual bubble that they live in for the rest of the year with only tennis players around, but then Emma sees Usain Bolt walk by and she knows they’re not.

This is weird.

This is wonderful.

This is almost everything.

-/-

The Opening Ceremonies are long and sometimes boring, and she hates the outfit she has to wear, but she doesn’t know if she’ll get to do this again in four years so she savors it.

She savors it all, walking side by side with Ruby, Ashley, and Anna, and she takes all of it in before her mind switches to work-mode as she runs through her opponent for her first match. The nerves have been pushed down in favor of the experience, but they’re back and in full-force.

She cannot lose in the first round.

-/-

She doesn’t. -/-

She doesn’t lose her next few matches either.

-/-

Emma’s made it to the quarterfinals in both singles and doubles with Ruby after several days of long matches and struggling to see the ball – whoever thought making a fully green court with green side walls for tennis has obviously never played tennis, and she never wants to play on center court again – and she knows she’s one win away from guaranteeing that she plays in a medal-winning match.

It’s a relief and pressure all at once, something she’ll never grow used to, and as the sun sets and the village begins to get loud, Emma sits on her balcony watching the fountains in the lake light up. Ruby is off with Mulan somewhere Emma would rather not know about and will probably not be back to their room until at least tomorrow morning if the look on Ruby’s face was any indication, so Emma thinks she might get a little time to sit down and breathe for a moment, watching different events on TV. She could go watch them, but she doesn’t think her legs will carry her there.

Until her phone buzzes with a text that she quickly answers, and not three minutes later, there’s a knock at her door.

Emma quickly opens it, pulling him inside, and Killian kicks the door closed behind him as he cups her cheeks and kisses her, long and slow but with enough heat simmering below the surface that Emma knows there could be a promise of more later.

She’s seen him nearly every day for the past week, but she’s missed him.

She’s missed this.

His mouth moves expertly over hers in a rhythm that’s been practiced to perfection, and she feels dizzy with his kiss and holds onto his hair to keep her standing up. The Brazilian summer air wafts through the room, coating it in a thick heat, but Emma doesn’t pay any attention to that as heat curls between her thighs, warming her more than the air ever could. Her legs ache from the match, her arms feel heavy, but Killian makes her forget those things as he lays her down on the bed and kisses every inch of her body, spending time with his dark head of hair buried beneath her thighs until she can no longer speak.

Until she can scarcely breathe as well.

She manages to laugh, though, when he pulls out one of the condoms that has the Olympics logo on it, and she and Killian makes jokes about it as he slides into her, a thick sheath of heat that she never gets used to. It’s slow at first, a gentle rocking that keeps her teetering on the edge, but their bodies are tired and worn, and soon, it’s a race to the finish line.

Emma comes in first, not that it matters.

(But it does feel good to beat him.)

(They’re both competitive asses.)

(Even when they shouldn’t be.)

After, they’re both slick with sweat that doesn’t go away as their bodies press together on the small twin bed. Emma almost wishes she had rented a house outside the village like David and some of the other coaches did, but she doesn’t want to give up the experience. And it’s fine, especially as Killian shifts behind her and lets her settle into him, her hips pressing back into his as his arm wraps around to rest on her stomach, fingers occasionally searching out for her breast.

Emma is exhausted, but this is the best she’s felt in weeks.

(She definitely couldn’t walk to any of the events now, and she did want to see Phelps swim.)

“You played bloody fantastic in your doubles match today.”

“Not my singles?”

“I played at the same time as you. I didn’t get a chance to watch.”

Emma hums and leans further back into him. She’s glad Killian did most of the work because just thinking about how much she’s got to move again tomorrow is making her sore. “I played well there too. Straight sets.”

“Atta girl.” His lips press into her neck, stubble scratching across the skin. “I’ve been thinking…”

“Oh, that’s always dangerous.”

Killian laughs but nudges his knee into her, which really only settles his cock between her ass, but she’s too tired to think of doing anything else. “I’ve been thinking,” he continues, “that I’m going to withdraw from Cincinnati and fly home instead.”

“To London?”

“To Palm Beach. I think it might be nice to have a calm week between tournaments to spend time with my girlfriend.”

“Oh really? You’ll have to tell her your plan. I’m sure she’d like that.”

Killian tickles her stomach, making her squirm, before he lightly pinches her side. “Mhm. I thought we might also like to spend time with our daughter since FaceTime isn’t cutting it for me anymore. I swear she’s grown three feet since I last saw her.”

“Four, I think. She’s basically a full-grown adult now with all that walking and talking she’s doing.”

“Has she said any new words I’m not aware of?”

“Nope. She still can only say the three.”

“Good. I’m glad I didn’t miss anything else.” Killian kisses the side of Emma’s neck again, and she twists around, wrapping her arms around him and pressing their noses together as she stares into blue, blue eyes that aren’t diminished by the darkened room. “I think we should bring her to New York with us. Hopefully at least one of us will be there for three weeks, and that’s just too long to go without her.”

“We’re staying in a hotel in New York. In two separate suites, I might add.”

“But we don’t have to.”

“Killian…”

His hand brushes down her side, warmth permeating from the rough fingertips, before it rests on her hip, thumb moving in soothing circles. “I’ve already called and seen if they could give me the Penthouse. It’s an entire floor with private entrances and a private elevator. Our teams can stay with us or they can stay in the original suites we were designated. I know you bring her with you when you can and that I sneak in visits, but I want to be able to stay with my daughter.”

This isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation, and if she doesn’t say yes to it, it won’t be the last.

Things between she and Killian are complicated. They’re relationship isn’t, not anymore. At first, she couldn’t stand him, thought he was genuinely this cocky asshole from the way he talked in matches and in off-court interviews, like he was God’s gift to the sport or something. Then they ended up both winning in Australia four years ago, and while doing press together, she saw a different, kinder side to him that she hadn’t previously seen when they worked together in Nike promotions.

Fast forward through a lot of early morning calls, late night rendezvous in their hotel rooms, and a heck of a lot of texts and FaceTime sessions, and somewhere along the way, the impenetrable Emma Swan fell in love with the impossible Killian Jones.

They kept it secret, the both of them knowing how vicious the media is to athletes that date each other, especially since Killian was going through a wrist injury that was somehow his fault according to the pundits and that he was getting hounded pretty hard at the time. They didn’t know if it was going to work, neither of them having stellar relationship records, but they figured eventually they would be okay with the world knowing.

Then came the positive pregnancy test, and Emma’s entire world shifted.

She was at the top of her game, at the top of her world, and as hard as it is for her to admit now, she didn’t want Olivia. She wanted to keep living her life the way it was. That was a possibility but not one she was willing to take, so she stopped playing but kept training as she and Killian figured out how they were going to do this.

They’re never home, rarely together, and they were both way out of their leagues. It would have been easier to tell the world they were together, that Killian was the father, but Olivia’s protection is worth more than their ease.

Now, though, looking at the crease between Killian’s brow and the sadness pooled in his eyes, she wonders if they’re doing the right thing.

“I know. I’m sorry. I – ” Emma’s lips quiver, and she nearly cries. She’s exhausted beyond belief and doesn’t know what to do, so she buries her face in Killian’s neck and wraps her arms around him. “Can we talk about this on the plane ride home?”

Emma says home as if they’re going to the same place after this. They’re not. But maybe she should listen to Killian and take the break she’s been craving.

“Aye, love, if that’s what you want.”

She nods and feels his lips ghost over the crown of her hair. “I want to lay here with you and not think about tennis or make hard decisions.”

“You want to talk about how bloody uncomfortable this bed is?”

Emma laughs. “It really makes you miss those awful ones in Paris.”

“You had to ask for a new one.”

“It was so worth it.”

-/-

They FaceTime Olivia in the morning. Mary Margaret has her in a matching outfit to Emma’s uniform, and Killian scoffs that she’s representing America instead of Great Britain.

Emma thinks it’s the best thing in the world, and it reminds her who she’s playing for.

It’s not for her country, not for herself. It’s for her daughter.

Their daughter.

-/-

The next two days drag by and yet she has a difficult time keeping up with them. Her practices are long, recovery longer as her shoulders are massaged and legs are iced, and Ruby has to drag her out onto the court for doubles when all she wants to do is sleep. She’s not used to playing this many matches in such a short period of time, and while having Ruby on court with her helps lessen how much she runs, her legs are still aching.

She’s almost to the finish line. She can make it.

“Those legs are too pretty for you to be dragging them like that,” Ruby jokes as they sit down during a changeover in the third set of their quarterfinal match. Emma reaches for her energy drink and takes a sip before biting into a banana while Ruby shakes her legs.

“I can’t make them move.”

“Yes, you can,” Ruby insists. “You already won your singles today, and we’re four games away from winning this match. I will kick your ass if we don’t win this.”

“Can you kick my ass if it’s already kicked?”

“I can indeed.” Ruby pats Emma’s knees and smiles. “Come on, hot mama. We’ve got this.”

And it’s tough, but they do.

Emma and Ruby go through recovery, and when Emma checks her watch, she sees that Killian’s match is just about to start.

“Do you want to get a bus across the grounds and go watch swimming?” Ruby asks her as David massages her calf. It’s not his job, so he obviously can’t stop complaining about doing it.

“I think I want to watch Killian’s match. Can we get seats in the stadium? Is his box empty?”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” David asks her as her muscle spasms.

“If we all go, it won’t be suspicious. He’s playing Sam, so they might think we’re supporting the Americans.”

“Aren’t we?”

Her eyes roll. “Not in this situation. Come on. Text Rob and see if we can get into Killian’s box.”

David levels her with a stare, and she knows he’s going to say no, that it’s a bad idea. But then he releases her leg and pulls his phone out of his pocket.

They end up going still dressed in their match clothes, and Emma puts on a sweatshirt, a cap, and sunglasses to hide herself as much as possible. She knows it won’t work considering she’s literally wearing the outfit she has worn all week, but she can at least try. It’s been years since she’s gotten to watch one of Killian’s matches from somewhere other than the locker room or her hotel room, and she’s missed the magic of watching him play. He’s fluid with his motions, even if they are slower than they used to be, and his groundstrokes are powerful from the baseline. She knows from the moment that she sits down that he’s winning this match. She can tell by the way he’s carrying himself and the determination in his eyes. She grabs her phone and snaps a picture just as he looks her way, brow raised in question but a smile on his lips.

-/-

Killian wins his match, and she finds him in the tunnel afterward, his team creating a wall around them, and wraps her arms around him, not caring that they are both disgustingly sweaty or around other people.

“I love you,” she whispers.

“And I you.” The corner of his lips brush against her temple. “You’re amazing, Emma. Bloody amazing.”

“You too, my love.”

-/-

Emma wins the semifinals of both of her matches.

Killian wins his.

They’re both playing in gold medal matches – Emma definitely brags about how she’s playing two while Killian is only playing one – and she wants to vomit.

Holy shit.

-/-

“Say hi to your mommy,” Mary Margaret tells Olivia as Olivia keeps smacking her hand on the screen. “Your mom and dad are there trying to talk to you, Livvie.”

Emma leans her head onto Killian’s shoulder as they both stare into the screen waiting for Olivia to move her hand. She does with some help from Mary Margaret, and then bright green eyes show up. She has Emma’s eyes and dirty blonde hair that’s thick and wavy, but everything else about her screams Killian, especially her smile. Emma has missed that smile.

“Hello, little love.” Killian waves and tries to get her attention, but she couldn’t care less. “Don’t you want to talk to us?”

She makes a noise that isn’t a word, and Mary Margaret sighs. “I’m sorry. She’s been asking about you two, but now that you’re there, she doesn’t care. I tried to tell her what a big deal the two of you were, but she doesn’t care.”

“I’ll have to tell her how incredible her mother is later. She’s going to be the first women to win two singles golds in a row as well as the first mum to do it. And she’s going to have two more medals than me. Showing me up in every category.”

“That’s assuming you win, Jones. I could have three more gold medals than you.”

“I do love a challenge.”

Olivia starts giggling, Emma’s favorite noise on the planet, and she tries to memorize it to keep with her always. She knows Killian does too.

-/-

Emma’s gold medal matches are the day before Killian’s, and she’s jealous he gets a day off to rest. He tells her he’s going to spend the entire time training, sneaking in and out of other events, and watching her matches. She rolls her eyes at his texts because she’s sure he won’t have time to do all of that.

And yet he does.

She sees him in the stands during her doubles match. Ruby points him out when they’re in the middle of discussing serving spots, and Emma laughs at her calling him “lover boy” in a horrible British accent. She always calls him a ridiculous name, and of the few people who know of Emma’s private life, she’s glad Ruby is one of them.

Even if she’s still laughing and double faults on an important point.

It doesn’t matter, though, because within an hour and fifteen minutes, their shortest match of the tournament, she’s on the court’s floor with Ruby sobbing because they won a fucking gold medal.

She gets so little time to savor it, however, because the medal ceremony happens so quickly that she can barely take It all in. She also has press to do, and David has to practically force her into the media room where she and Ruby are hounded with more questions than congratulation as they clutch onto their medals. Ruby handles it like the pro she is while Emma’s nerves start to get the best of her as more people start talking about what she has on the line.

To be the first man or woman to win two gold singles medals in consecutive Olympics.

To win another gold medal for her country.

To be the first mother since Clijsters to win a major tournament.

To win her first big tournament since her comeback.

To have the possibility to win another gold medal in Tokyo in four years if she’s still playing.

It’s a lot, and she knows it. She’s been thinking about all of it every day this week, and her track record of choking in finals lately is pushing at the forefront of her mind.

She doesn’t know if she can do it.

And yet she does.

She laces up her sneakers, pulls her hair back, and takes a deep breath as she blocks everything out of her mind except for her game plan. She knows how the game is played. She’s been playing since she was twelve years old, and even though that’s a late start compared to most people, it’s gotten her here.

Emma walks out of the tunnel as her name is announced over the speakers, and even though all she can hear is the cheer of the crowd, she lets her mind go back to Olivia’s laugh, Killian’s smile, David’s pep talk, Ruby’s ridiculous texts. She thinks of all the things that push her when she wants to stop, and she reminds herself that no matter what happens, she’s done her best.

She could have given up the moment the stick said “pregnant.” She could have packed it all in, but she didn’t. She’s here, and she’s better than any excuse she could come up with not to be.

People have tried to tell her who she is her entire life, but she’s pushed back and said, “no, this is who I am.” Emma still has to do that now, no matter how many times she has proven herself.

The ice bath in Montreal where she wanted to quit seems years away when it was only eight days.

-/-

Emma looks to Ruby then David then Killian as she takes a deep breath on match point. Killian smiles and gives her a subtle nod, and then she raises the ball in the air, ready to toss it.

-/-

Game. Set. Gold freaking medal.

-/-

Afterward, she falls to the ground, her knees aching as they hit the asphalt, and her body can’t stop shaking with her sobs. She doesn’t know what she feels or how she feels or even where she is, and she only gets up from the ground when she hears her family calling for her. She slowly rises from the ground, runs across the court to congratulate her opponent on playing a good match, and then she’s running to the stands and climbing up with David’s help. She embraces him first. She wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him. he’s been her rock for her entire life, and he keeps her steady. Then it’s her physio and her agent and Ruby. Then, over to the side, is Killian, and their conversation from a few nights ago comes back to her.

She loves him. She’s proud to be with him. They shouldn’t have to hide their family anymore.

They haven’t exactly been doing a good job of it this week anyway.

So Emma very literally pounces on him, her legs wrapping around his waist, before she remembers that he has a match tomorrow. She can’t miss his back up. He’d never let it go if she did. Her feet fall to the ground, but her arms stay wrapped around Killian’s neck as he whispers words of encouragement and congratulations that she’s always going to keep close to her heart, right next to the necklace with the initials O-S-J on them.

Two people thousands of miles apart were brought together by chances, a whole myriad of them. If Ruth hadn’t adopted Emma and David, they never would have picked up a racket. If Emma had never picked up a racket, she wouldn’t have found her purpose in this world. She wouldn’t have a job or a daughter or a man who loves her in spite of how hard she is to love. There was so much that could have derailed her, both good and bad, and while she could say none of it matters, in some way, it all does.

Because it led her here.

And she doesn’t want to be anywhere else even if she would give anything to be able to hug Olivia right now.

“You did so good, Swan,” Killian whispers, his voice the only one she hears.

“I know.”

He pulls back, and there are tears in his eyes that mirror her own. “So, I guess I have to win tomorrow so your bragging rights don’t get too big.”

“Oh, Jones, you are never catching up with me now,” she teases, all of the exhaustion melting away. “I’m miles ahead of you, but you better win. Olivia doesn’t need to be embarrassed by her dad.”

“Pretty sure that’s my job.”

“Right now, your only job is to help me back down onto the court and then go win yourself a gold medal.”

“Don’t tell the presses you’re rooting for a Brit.”

Emma shrugs as Killian thumbs away tears underneath her eyes. “I don’t care anymore, and I’m definitely going to be sitting in your box tomorrow, cheering louder than anyone else.”

-/-

When Killian wins the next night after a torturous four hours, his fall is almost identical to Emma’s. Though, when he climbs into the stands to get to the box, he immediately goes for Emma, cupping her cheeks and kissing her for the entire world to see.

“I guess I’ll have to figure out a way to embarrass our daughter in another way.”

“I think her parents making out on international TV might do just that.”

-/-

Two days after they get home – they spent the entire first day sleeping and holding Olivia – Emma puts on her three gold medals, Killian puts on his one, and they hold Olivia in between them, her toothy smile brighter than the gold as the photo is taken.

Olivia Swan-Jones has a pretty cool mom and a dad who has some catching up to do in the gold medal department.

It’s Emma’s most liked picture on Instagram, not that she cares about any of those things, and it’s the biggest news story for three days straight despite the literal Olympics still happening.

All Emma cares about, though, is that she has a week off – she opted out of Cincinnati after all, despite David’s protests – she can spend with her family before she and Killian are off to New York where the pressure will be the highest it’s ever been and the media will most likely be losing their shit over Emma and Killian’s announcements.

Olivia will be with her, Killian too, and in the end, that’s all that matters.

Oh, that, and the fact that Emma Swan is officially back, and it feels damn good.

-/-

-/-

Thanks for reading, my friends! Can’t wait for those 2021 Olympics 🤞and learning about sports I’ve still somehow never heard of. And if you want to talk to me about tennis, I’m fully here to talk about Rafael Nadal’s biceps and how his game is underrated despite being one of the most dominant athletes of all time 💚😂

[cordonian-literature]

The Aftermath - Ch. 31

The Talk

Summary: Riley and Liam talk about what’s next for them, and Drake finally confronts Jessica

Word Count: ~2.7k

Warnings: mention of character death, slight language, implied smut

*All characters belong to Pixelberry, except those that are unique to my story (I’ve also used some characters and fictional instances from Donna Tartt’s book, “The Goldfinch”)*

Catch up here!

Tags:  @captain-kingliamsqueen @gkittylove99 @lovablegranny @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful​ @mom2000aggie @kingliam2019 @queenrileyrose @shanzay44 @cordonianroyalty @hopefulmoonobject @hopelessromanticmonie @twinkle-320 @charlotteg234 @amandablink @texaskitten30 @queencatherynerhys @pens-girl-87 @ladyangel70 @sanchita012 @cordonianprincess @liamandneca @cordonia-gothqueen @pink-diamond13 @queenwalton @yourmajesty09 @alj4890​

I don’t know if the tags are working or not, but I hope I got everyone down. If you would like to be added/removed, let me know :)

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- Riley - 

I wake by the morning light that blares through the window. After blinking for a few moments, I slowly take in the room around me. I see my luggage near the far corner, and there are clothes littered on the floor. The covers of the bed are dangling off the edge. Liam is on the bed with me. His head rests on my stomach and his arms are loosely around me. His face is an image of pure peace. 

I wonder what time it is. Turning my head, I can see that my phone isn’t near me. I look again at Liam, sleeping soundly, and I don’t want to wake him. 

I shift my upper body, trying to lean down to see if my phone was on the floor. But I move a bit too much, and Liam wakes. He rubs his eyes, then turns his head slowly, kissing my stomach and all the way up to my lips. 

“Good morning,” I say to him when we part. His blond hair is a whorl on his head and there’s a content smile on his face.

I get out of bed and find my phone under my discarded dress. Checking the time, I see that it’s almost noon. I put it on the bedside table and begin picking up the clothes scattered on the floor. 

“What are you doing, love?” Liam asks, reaching for me. He lightly takes hold of my elbow and draws me back towards the bed. I let myself fall into his warm embrace. “I’d like to stay here with you forever,” he whispers in my ear. 

“I would, too, but we already missed breakfast. Plus the kids might be worried.”

Liam kisses my temple. Neither of us move to get out of bed. A part of me doesn’t want to move. Liam’s embrace felt peaceful and safe. It was refreshing in a way. It was like I had found my way home.

We stare at the ceiling, disregarding the time pass by.

“The Anointing Ceremony is tomorrow,” Liam speaks. 

“I know,” I respond. “My mother said she’s going to fly over for it. And Gabe said he was having a bit of anxiety.” 

“I’ll be sure to make accommodations for your mother. As for Gabriel, I’ll speak to him. I know he’ll be perfect.” He pauses for a second. “There is also something that I wish to ask your mother.”

“What do you want to ask her?” 

He gives a low chuckle. Liam meets my eyes, but says nothing. His silence gives me his answer. 

“You said you wanted me to give you until the end of the Social Season,” I state. “Well, there’s barely two days left.” He laughs again. “Is there something you want to ask me?” I manage to say through a smile.

He looks away for a moment. I’m still tucked under his arm and glued to his side. “Perhaps there is something I wish to ask you, but this was not the position I had planned.”

“Really? Then what did you have planned?”

“I thought I’d bring you to the hedge maze.”

“The same one that Ella got lost in?” 

“Well, I would make sure the children were safe before we’d go. There’s a well I wish to show you.” 

“And what would we do at the well?”

His gaze is intense. His eyes aren’t as tired as usual, compared to these past few weeks. I lean forward and press my lips against his. 

“Riley,” he says, making my body shiver. I push myself closer to him. “You torture me.”

I rest my head on his shoulder. His arms wrap tightly around me. “I’ve been torturing myself, too. Ten whole years.” I trail off, feeling uneasy.

“It took us ten years to make our way back to each other,” Liam says gently. “And now that I have you, I don’t want to lose you. Or Gabriel, or Eleanor.”

“I don’t want you to lose us, either.” 

He kisses me again, then moves away suddenly. “Would your mother be okay with that?” 

I give out a laugh. “What does she have to do with it?” 

“She was quite hostile when we were in New York. Whenever I’d mention anything about our relationship she wouldn’t hesitate to remind me how I failed you.” 

“But you didn’t fail me. Both of us made mistakes. I just want to leave it in the past.”

We snuggle closer to each other. Liam smothers my face in soft kisses. “Riley Brooks,” he whispers. “My queen.”

My heart flutters a little. We stay like that for a little while longer before deciding it would be better to get out of bed and check on the kids. We dress quickly, stealing kisses every other moment, and walk out of the room hand in hand. 

The estate is quiet and practically empty. Most of the court had already left or were still asleep. At the bottom of the stairs, servants are cleaning up the mess from last night. Bertrand supervises them, watching their every move. When Liam and I pass by, Bertrand glances at our hands, then at Liam, and finally gives us a wide smile. 

In the dining room, Gabe and Bartie play a game on one of Gabe’s devices, leaning close to the small screen with small controllers in their hands. Eleanor and Hana are going through a simple ballet routine, laughing and clapping for each other. When Ella sees us she rushes over to give Liam a hug, who lifts her into his arms. Gabe is still focused on his game but gives us a quick “hi”. 

I ask Hana were Maxwell and Rowan are, but she says she hasn’t seen them since last night. 

“What about Drake? Or Olivia? Or Boris?” 

“I saw Drake leave the estate a few hours ago,” Hana tells me. “Olivia and Boris I saw during the party, but not this morning.”

With Ella still in his arms, Liam makes his way over to Gabe and Bartie, asking about the game they’re playing. Hana pulls me to the side. 

“I have news,” she states, a wide smile across her face. It’s one that I recognize. I haven’t seen it in a while, but I knew there was only one thing that would make her this happy. “Neville signed the papers last night.”

“What!” I cry. Hana nods and laughs. I give her a tight hug. “Took you long enough to get rid of him!” 

“I know!” Her smile falters a little. “I haven’t told my parents yet.” 

“I’m sure they’ll understand. And don’t worry, I’ll be here for backup.” 

She gives a smile, then asks, “Now what about you and Liam?” 

A wide grin spreads across my face. “We talked.”

“And...?” Hana urges me to continue. 

“And... I decided that I want to stay in Cordonia. With him, Gabe, Ella, and all our friends.”

Hana gives me an amused look. “So you’re saying...”

“It’s technically unofficial... but yes.”

Hana squeals and we share a hug. Servants walk into the room, putting plates on the tables. Savannah and Bertrand enter, and we all sit down for lunch. 

Bertrand asks me the same question Hana did, and he and Savannah give me quiet congratulations. Gabe and Ella talk excitedly about some other topic, and Liam matches their enthusiasm. 

Before, looking at them interacting like this had made me upset. It reminded me of everything that I had kept from them. But now I feel the opposite; even though they had spent more time away from each other than together, there was the undeniable care and affection that the children had for Liam, and that he had for them. It was the way it should have been from the start, and knowing that there was no longer anything that could change it, I feel at peace.

- Drake - 

Jessica had left Ramsford in the early morning. She left Drake a note, claiming she had plans to meet up with friends. Drake suspected that he knew what that meant. Two hours after he woke up, he received a text from her: 

plans canceled :( come meet me, let’s have lunch xx

Once he read the message, Drake was sure that her “plans” had probably been with Boris, who was still locked in a bedroom somewhere in the estate.

Drake hadn’t told anyone what he had discovered about Jessica, not even Savannah. He wondered if Olivia had gotten more information out of Boris. Drake didn’t want to go see Jessica. He knew there was nothing she could do to make him angrier, but he needed answers. 

Even with the doubts, he drives over to her apartment in the capital. His mind is numb while he drives. Drake can’t bring himself to focus on the present moment, and almost swerved into ongoing traffic more than once. But he finally made it to her apartment and got out of his car. 

As he walked through the lobby and down the hall towards her room, he kept reminding himself that she couldn’t make him feel sorry for her. She had no power over him. 

When she opened the door, she wasn’t as composed as she usually was. She was rushing around the clean, white kitchen and starts talking about multiple things at once: a new dress she wanted to buy, tried it on, couldn’t decide, put it on hold, got shoes instead, a call from her uncle who lives in Italy, her boss wants her to fly to London for the weekend, her friend Emma wanted to go on a trip to the Caribbean but Jessica wanted to go France.

“Listen,” she finally stops babbling on. “I had such a good idea. Let’s go get a curry. I’m craving one and don’t feel like cooking. What’s that place you took me to that one time? The Maha something?”

“You mean that fleabag?” he says. 

“Excuse me?” She quickly turns to regard him. 

Drake didn’t remember the name of the restaurant she was talking about — the name changed every few years as it came under different owners, but the menu always stayed the same. His mother had brought him and his sister there when they were younger. A while ago he had dinner there with Jessica, who commented that the venue and waiters depressed her.

“The saddest restaurant in the capital,” Drake repeats her comment. “Great idea.” 

She frowns. “Whatever. I think there’s another place that’s closer. Emma knows where it is, I can ask her for the name. Or we can do what you want.”

“What I want?” Drake leans against the door frame of the kitchen, his hands in his pockets. “That’s rich.” 

“Sorry.” She turns away. “I thought a curry might be nice. Forget I said anything.” 

“It’s fine. You can stop now.” 

She turns to him again, a vacant smile on her face. “Excuse me?” 

“You know what I’m talking about.” 

Jessica blinks at him, but says nothing. 

“I think you should keep your phone on when you’re with him. I tried to call you on the street. Maybe if you had answered, we wouldn’t be here.” 

“Sorry, I don’t know...?” She trails off. Drake doesn’t know if the confusion on her face is genuine or fake. 

“Jess, I saw you.” 

Again she blinks rapidly. After a slight pause she continues. “Oh, please, you can’t be serious. You don’t mean Boris, do you?” A moment of deadly silence passes. Neither of them says anything, but she speaks up again. “He’s an old friend, from way back, we’re really close—”

“Yeah, I reckon you are.” 

“—from when his mother died. He moved to Cordonia for like a year when he was eight. We went to school together. Papa knew him, they did business together for some time. Emma knows him, too, and, and,” she stutters for a moment. “I know how it may have seemed, and I know you have a good reason not to like him, because, because I know about him knowing Riley for all those years and helping Theodore, and, sure they probably shouldn’t have done that, it... it was none of their business but listen, he feels awful about how it turned out—”

“Feels awful?”

“—and he’s been feeling terrible lately,” she continues rapidly, “ever since Theodore died and what happened to Riley and the kids—”

“You two sit around and talk about that shit? You talk about my friends and pity us?” 

“—and Boris, he came over to see Emma and I right before we got into the movies. We dropped her off at her apartment after. He... he had a bad upset and just wanted someone to talk to—”

“You don’t expect me to believe all that do you?”

“Listen. I don’t know what... what you know or how you know but—”

“How long have you been seeing him?” He was tired of the nonsense.

“Drake, let’s not do this.” 

“No, tell me, I want to know how long.”

“I won’t see him anymore,” she states quickly. 

“So you admit it?” 

“I didn’t think it mattered until we were married.” 

“Didn’t think it mattered?” He’s shocked at her words. Drake doesn’t know what to say to her, but anger still boiled inside him. “You didn’t think I would find out?” 

“I said I won’t see him anymore. I told him I wouldn’t a while back.”

“But he keeps coming back,” Drake speculates. “He won’t take no for an answer. He loves you too much.”

“That’s right.” 

Drake takes a reflexive step back.

A flash of guilt crosses her face, but it disappears in a second. “Listen. I don’t expect you to understand but it’s rough being in love with the wrong person.”

Silence spreads between them again. They don’t look at each other and instead glance around the room. 

Drake had walked into her apartment telling himself that she had no power over him, there was no way for her to make him feel sorry... but who knew the truth of what he was talking about better than Drake? Maybe he was wrong to connect Jessica’s relationship with him and Boris to Drake’s feelings for Riley, but his mind couldn’t help but wander.

“Drake, let’s not let this spoil things. We’re better people when we’re with each other, aren’t we? And... we’re a good couple. We like each other, we get along.” Drake’s anger rises, but he can’t bring himself to speak. Jessica continues, “Now, let’s both be truthful and kind and happy together and—”

“Stop it,” Drake interrupts her again. He had barely heard what she said over his heart hammering in his chest, but he knew that he was tired. He had used most of his energy last night during his fight with Boris, and he wasn’t going to let Jessica take advantage of his exhaustion. 

Drake remembers the ring that she wore the night before. He glances down at her hand to see that it’s still there. He makes eye contact with her again. Her eyes are slightly pink with tears. 

His voice is rough when he speaks. He’s angry at her, and he wants her to know it. “You can keep the ring if you want. Or sell it, give it away. I could give less of a shit for what you’ll do to it.”

She looks down at her shaking hand. “I won’t sell it, I know it was your grandmother’s.”

He watches her, wondering if she was going to give it back. 

“Drake, please, we’re right for each other. This marriage is the right thing for both of us and we both know it—”

“Jess, you know where I live. You can mail it, drop it off. Whatever you want. Just...” Drake trails off. Jessica moves towards him, but he doesn’t want to deal with her anymore. He turns his back to her and walks out the door. 

[fluffy-marshmallow-heart]

TRR New Beginnings ch.23-A Gathering of Friends

Hey Everyone! So this series will be coming to end soon, there will likely only be 2-3 more chapters. We'll see. It has been so awesome writing this fic, and that's because you guys made it happen!

Drake x MC (Emma)

Words: 1788

Drake and Emma have gathered everyone together to share their news. But what topic does the conversation turn to?

Drake and Emma kept to themselves for the next few weeks, until finally, Emma entered her second trimester. The nausea still hadn’t subsided, but Drake made sure to keep items around that she could eat and drink without getting sick. Usually. Sometimes it just happened. But besides that, they were mostly blissfully happy, and were ready to start telling their friends about their pregnancy. So, tonight, Liam, Olivia, Maxwell, Savannah, and Bertrand were all having dinner at the Valtorian Estate. Emma had never been, even though it was her duchy.

  “So, what do you think, Lady Emma? It’s a nice estate, is it not?” Liam asked.

“It is.” She agreed. “It’s very grand.”

“You will be a fabulous Duchess, Emma. And whatever you don’t know I’ll help with.” Olivia jumped in.

Emma gave her a smile. “I’m sure you will, Olivia. Thank you.”

“Maxwell, what are planning to do once Emma takes over?” Olivia asked.

“No idea!” Maxwell exclaimed. “I’ve been so busy, I haven’t even thought about it.”

The servants started bringing out the drinks, and everyone except Olivia and Emma took the alcohol. Olivia eyed Emma but didn’t say anything.

“Emma, it’s so wonderful having you back in Cordonia. It wasn’t the same without you, and I’d never seen my brother in worse shape than when you were gone.” Savannah said. “So, thank you for coming back. I, for one, am grateful. So, I’d like to propose a toast. To our Emma, and to the healing she brought to our family.”

“To Emma!” Everyone chimed in, clinking their glasses.

“I would also like to propose a toast.” Drake said. “To Liam. For realizing how much I needed her and convincing her to come back here and stay with me. Thank you. You’re the best friend a guy could have.” He rose his glass and the others followed suit, before Olivia scoffed.

“Well. I’m proposing a toast to myself, then. For my genius ideas that I cunningly convinced Liam were his own.” She smirked, then downed the rest of her water.

Emma grinned. “Yes. To Olivia. Because every great man has an even greater woman standing beside him.”

Drake rolled his eyes. “Ugh. Fine. Cheers, Olivia.”

Liam chuckled and pulled Olivia into a kiss. “Truer words have never been spoken, my Queen.”

“So, Emma, back to business. When will you resume the duties of the duchy?” Bertrand asked.

“Oh, Bertrand. Always so business-like.” Savannah told him.

“She’s been back long enough, it’s time she steps in.” Bertrand returned. “I’m sure Maxwell can find something else to do with his time. Perhaps being our nanny?”

“I’m not going to be your nanny!” Maxwell scowled. The two brothers immediately started arguing about what Maxwell should and should not do when Emma finally cried out

“ENOUGH!!”

The table fell silent and all eyes turned to her. “Honestly, do you two ever stop arguing?” She asked.

“Not really” Drake told her. “That has definitely not changed a bit.”

Emma looked around the table and took a deep breath. “Honestly, I’ve been thinking about this a lot.” She said.

Drake looked at her in surprise. They had never talked about it, not once. If he was honest with himself, he tried to avoid the conversation. She’s nobility, and when they marry he’ll become a duke. He knows nothing of being a duke, and the very idea makes his stomach churn. To be stuck in that world…he almost couldn’t think of anything worse. The only thing worse would be not having Emma at all. And for her, he was prepared to do anything. Move anywhere, take any title, any job to make her happy. He just wanted her, and he’d come to terms with everything that brought with it. Still, he hadn’t spoken to her about it, and he had hoped to before she stood up on her own.

“Liam.” Emma continued. “I’m very grateful for the gift you bestowed upon me a year and a half ago. It was very kind of you to give me the duchy of Valtoria. It is absolutely beautiful, and I’m proud to call it my home.”

“Of course, Lady Emma. You will lead with grace, I have no doubt.” Liam told her with a smile.

Emma nodded, but didn’t return his smile. She slid her eyes over to Drake, who squeezed her hand in encouragement. She gave him a soft smile before turning back to the group.

“I want you to know that I did not come to this decision lightly, and it’s been on my mind for a while now. That being said…I’m renouncing the title of Duchess and I think Maxwell would make a wonderful continuing leader.”

All eyes looked at her in shock as she excused herself from the table and hurried out of the room. Suddenly, she was quite nauseous again.

“Drake, what did you say to her to make her do that?” Olivia snapped.

“Nothing! I’m just as confused as you are!” He exclaimed.

“I do find it odd.” Liam agreed. “She knew that in coming back she would need to accept her title. She’s not an actually a citizen of Cordonia.”

“What are you saying?” Drake asked.

“I’m saying if she doesn’t take over Valtoria, I won’t be able to keep her here. You know the law, Drake.”

“My mother was an American!” He couldn’t believe his ears.

“Yes, and she was married to your father, a native Cordonian. Look, Drake, I don’t like it either.” Liam said sadly.

“This is unbelievable. You’re King. You make the laws now.” Drake said angrily. “Tonight, we were going to tell all of you that she’s pregnant. But I guess that doesn’t matter because she’s not noble enough for you.” Drake stood from the table and ran after Emma.

“Rose!” He called out into the hallway.

“In here, Drake.” Her voice rang out from another room. He followed the sound until he caught sight of her.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” She greeted him warmly, and his heart fluttered.

He walked over and took her in his arms, kissing her deeply before embracing her fully. “What happened in there, Rose? Why did you do that without talking to me?” He couldn’t hide the hurt in his voice.

She pulled back and cupped his face in her hands. “I love you. And I love our baby. And I don’t want him or her to grow up in that life. It destroyed us. It’s destroyed others. It killed your father. I don’t want that. And I know you don’t either. It’s not who you are, and that is so much of why I love you the way I do.”

“But Rose, you don’t understand, you’re not a Cordonian citizen. If you don’t accept the duchy, you’ll be forced to leave the country.”

“That’s not entirely accurate.” She smirked.

Drake’s brows furrowed as Emma walked over to a book that was laid out on a chair. “I had Maxwell take a look into citizen’s law. While it’s true that if I reject the duchy, then I automatically reject citizenship. However, there’s several clauses about how to get around it. Your father worked with Constantine to amend the law when your mother was pregnant with you.

“Wh-what?” He asked, completely dumbfounded.

She grinned. “Look.” She pointed at the book and started reading.

Amendment 17.a-If a non-citizen marries someone of Cordonian heritage, they are immediately granted full citizenship and all the rights that entails.

Amendment 17.b-If a female non-citizen becomes impregnated by someone of Cordonian heritage, the fetus is by all rights a full Cordonian citizen, and both the unborn child and mother of said child, are granted immediate full citizenship and all the rights that entails.

She stopped reading and took Drake’s hands. “This is it, Drake. This is how we stay in Cordonia. I’ve been dreading this day so much, when I’d have to either take over Valtoria or leave you again. I would have chosen you, of course. But you wouldn’t have been happy, and your family needs you happy. I want to give you this, give us this. Our cabin is our home. I want it stay that way.”

Drake was still staring at her, tears starting to glisten in his eyes.

“Rose…you don’t have to give this up for me.” He whispered.

“I’m not. I never really had it. A year and a half ago, sure, I would have jumped all over the opportunity. But now? I don’t want that anymore. Not one bit. I just want you.”

Drake laughed happily and dipped her into a passionate kiss. “Anything my Queen wants.” He waggled his eyebrows and she swatted him playfully.

“We should probably go tell them I’m pregnant now, huh?”

“Uh…actually, about that…” Drake trailed off.

“Yes?”

“I may have accidentally yelled it out at the table when Liam was saying you’d have to leave.”

Emma narrowed her eyes at him.

“It just came out! I didn’t know what you were doing!”

“You’re not that good with surprises, are you?” she asked.

“I prefer giving them to you, not the other way around. Though this is an amazing surprise, and I should have kept my mouth shut instead of getting caught in the heat of the moment. He admitted sheepishly.

“Well…you do have a tendency to do that.” She chuckled. “So, I guess we better go in and formally announce it? And bask in the glory of my being a Cordonian citizen?”

Drake nodded. “Yes, that’s probably best.” He took her hand and led her back to the dining room, where they were greeted with happy cheers of congratulations. As he watched her hug everyone, Liam came over to him.

“I didn’t know, Drake. I’m sorry.”

Drake smiled at him. “I’m sorry, too. I had no idea what she was planning or what information she had found. Or rather, had Maxwell find for her.”

“Maxwell’s a true friend.” Liam agreed. “I’m really happy for you Drake. And, now, Olivia finally has someone to commiserate with about pregnancy pains.” The two men burst out laughing at the truth of that statement.

“Do you think our kids will be friends?” Drake asked him

“The best of” Liam replied.

“There’s just one more thing I need to do.” Drake said

“What’s that?” Liam asked.

“Sorry, but it’s my turn to surprise her. You’ll find out soon enough. Everyone will.” Drake smiled and went over to Emma, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“I’m not sure how I got so lucky. Or so happy.” He murmured in her ear.

She turned her head and gave him a quick kiss. “Don’t worry, you can thank me later.”

Drake scraped his teeth gently against her neck. “I intend to.”

   @blackwidow2721 @sleepwalkingelite @flowerpowell @agent-bossypants @annekebbphotography @carabeth @gardeningourmet @eileendannie @dancetothestoriesinyoursoul @alesana45 @imaketerriblechoices @zigortega4life

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@notoriouscs

[mrswalkers-blog]

Falling in Love with you

Chapter 7 -  The Past (NSFW)

Book: The Royal Romance ( Drake x MC & Liam x Olivia)

Summary:  Drake meets Savannah at House Beaumont. She assures him that he should not doubt Riley. 

Warnings: NSFW 

A/N: Thanks for still being with me. I thought my story was dying and had stopped writing it. But some of you urged me to write. So here it is again. I hope I do justice to the story.

I am not a writer and English is not my first language. So feel free to share your feedback positive or negative.

Word Count:  ???

FaceClaim: Drake Walker - Daniel Di Tomasso

Riley Walker (Brooks) - Katrina Kaif

King Liam Rhys - Daniel Henney

Olivia Rhys (Nevrakis) - Emma Stone

Previous Chapter: Prologue – The Fight,

Chapter 1- The Accident,

Chapter 2 - Riley’s birthday

Chapter 3 - Who am I?

Chapter 4 - Homecoming

Chapter 5 - Lost (NSFW)

Chapter 6 - Away

About Two Years Ago

It had been three months since the day Olivia and Liam got engaged. Liam and Olivia announced their engagement a month before, with their engagement photo shoot and several interviews. The interviews were professionally crafted to let the people know that both of them are in love with each other, but they love Cordonia more. A perfect childhood love story with some well-written anecdotes was published in all the leading newspapers and magazines. Liam and Olivia were all over the news last month. Business Magazines gave a promising forecast on how their economy is going to boom with Lythikos Duchess marrying the Rhys King. Fashion magazines ran special articles describing the diamond-studded asymmetric one-shoulder red dress that Olivia wore in their engagement photo shoot. 

Each and everyone in Cordonia was happy that their King has found a Queen. Every face was smiling with a new found energy in Cordonia, except one, Duchess Olivia. It had been three months since their engagement and all they had shared was some 15-20 phone calls and a few kisses on three or four dates. Liam would visit Lythikos every few weekends and spend some time with Olivia. They would go to Marcellino, have dinner, talk mostly about how they want to announce their engagement, Liam would drop her back at the estate and leave for Palace. This time, she wanted a little more. She ran a conversation with Liam again and again in her head of how she will convince him to stay the night. 

She took a deep breath when she saw Liam’s name flashing on her mobile to calm herself. She picked it up, ‘Hey!’

Hi, Olivia!’ she could almost see his smile on the other side of the phone.‘I hope you are free this Friday.’ he said as he usually did asking her for a date.

‘Liam,’ Olivia took a deep breath before saying,’ I was hoping you can stay the night this time.’

Olivia waited for Liam to speak, but she got no response for several unbearable seconds. She regretted immediately for asking  ‘I understand if you are busy.’ she said ’you don't need to...’

‘No, I think I can... I will love to stay the night, Olivia.’ Liam said, not letting the unsurety in his mind reaching his voice.

‘We will have dinner at the estate if that's okay?.’ Olivia said

‘That sounds good..’ Liam said. They chatted for a few minutes before disconnecting the call.

---

On Friday, when Liam reached Lythikos for their date,  his jaw dropped when his eyes fell on Olivia. She was wearing a deep V halter backless top with jeans instead of her usual dresses.  Her untied soft red curls rested on her bare shoulders. He smiled as he realized Olivia is waiting for him to say something.

‘You look amazing!’ Liam said, unable to hide his surprise.

‘Thanks. Come!’ Olivia gestured him to join her.

After a hearty romantic dinner at her dining room, She looked at Liam with a shy smile,’Want to come for a tour of my estate?’

Liam joined her,’ Is there any part I haven't seen yet?’

‘I guess there is, come!’

Liam followed Olivia to a room, he knew was her. When Olivia closed the door and turned, she found herself face to face with Liam. She pressed her lips to his with a little more force than intended, making Liam fumble a step back.

‘Sorry, I ....’ Olivia began, but her words were lost when Liam's lips found hers. Her arms wrapped around his neck pulling him close. Liam’s hands roamed on her bare back, sending jolts of pleasure throughout her body. She found her knees going week in his embrace. She raised one of her legs and wrapped it around his waist. Liam grabbed her other leg and helped her wrap it around his waist. She shook her legs removing her heels, all the while kissing him deeply.

He carried her and dropped her on the bed. Olivia sat up, looking at him undressing in front of her. Olivia bit her lip as her eyes roamed on his taut muscles of his abs, down to his boxers.

‘Do you need help getting out of it?’ Liam smiled mischievously seeing Olivia hadn't started undressing.

‘Yes, I guess.’ She said, avoiding his gaze. Liam crawled on the bed to her on his fours. He gently lifted her top helping her out of it, freeing her breasts. She pressed her body against his, kissing him passionately. Liam’s lips roamed from her lips to her neck down to her breast. He sucked on a nipple a little before going down her stomach.

Liam helped her out of her jeans. His started kissing her legs just above her knees and went up to her thighs. He gently removed her panties and rubbed his fingers on her moist entrance. He licked his finger before sliding it in.

‘Liam!’ she moaned as his finger rubbed her insides. Liam rubbed her clitoris with his other hand and slid in his second finger. Olivia grabbed the sheets with her hands as his fingers filled her.

Liam moved a little up, with his one hand inside of her and other going up to her breast. He gently pinched a nipple, gaining a moan from Olivia.

‘Is this good?’ he asked her in a whisper. ‘Yes!’ she moaned. Liam kept rubbing, curling his fingers a little, making Olivia buck her hips. He kissed her all over her body as his fingers kept rubbing her till he felt her core going tight on him and Olivia shouting out his name. 

Olivia moved to get close to Liam, her hands roamed on his chest and back before grabbing his boxers. She pushed them down, releasing his length. She rubbed his length with her hand. She ran her tongue up his length. She enveloped him in her mouth, sucking him while rubbing him with her hands.

‘Liv! you are amazing!’ Liam groaned looking at her. He lifted her up by her chin and kissed her.’Are you ready for me?’ he asked, his hands teasing her entrance. ‘Yes, my King!’ she said biting her lip seductively.

She opened a drawer from her nightstand and pulled out a condom. She licked him again after sliding it on him.

‘Get on your fours for you King’ Liam commanded her which she happily obeyed.  Liam grabbed her from her waist and pushed himself deep inside her wet core filling her completely.

‘Oh Fuck!’ she screamed. Liam started moving in and out of her slowly. 

‘Harder, my King!’ Olivia moaned. This drove Liam to the edge. He started thrusting harder inside her, holding her tightly from her waist. After a few moments, Liam felt Olivia going tight against him as she screamed his name. Liam too came inside of her a few thrusts later. They collapsed on the bed, drenched in sweat, completely content. 

Liam went to the washroom to clean himself. When he returned, he found Olivia peacefully sleeping on her bed. He covered her naked body and laid down beside her. He fell asleep, keeping a little distance between them.

When Olivia woke up the next morning, she was disappointed to see a note from Liam on her bed, instead of Liam himself.

‘Sorry I had to leave early - Liam’ 

-----

Now

Drake left early from Valtoria with a security guard and a driver. He would have loved driving on the highway, but he had promised Riley that he will not go alone. He wondered if a Duke’s life had sucked all freedom from him. He slept through the drive on the back seat to keep his mind wandering off.

When he reached Beaumont house, he found it oddly empty. There was no one to be seen. He had dropped a message to Savannah informing her of his arrival. But she too was nowhere to be seen.

He ringed the bell but got no response. He found the door open and peeked inside.

‘Savannah!’ he called her. Suddenly he saw Bartie running out of a room, topless and Savannah charging behind him carrying a shirt.

Drake leaped and scooped up Bartie in his arms. ‘Drakie!’ the toddler squeaked.

‘Are you harassing Mommie?’ he asked his nephew. He shook his head innocently. ‘Mommie is harassing me. I don't want to wear that shirt.’

‘God! he is a handful!’ Savannah said, hand on her waist, panting.

‘Sorry I was giving him a bath. Please help me get him dressed.’ Savannah requested Drake. 

‘Bartie, is there any other shirt you would rather wear?’ Drake carried the toddler to his room. ‘I want to wear my Captain America t-shirt!’ he jumped down when they entered his room. He opened a drawer and pulled out a black t-shirt with Captain America shield printed on it.

‘Daddy doesn't like when you wear a t-shirt, Bartie!’

‘Let him wear it Savannah.’ Drake turned to Bartie.

‘You know I like Captian America too!’ he said helping him in the t-shirt.

‘You are going to spoil the kid!’ Savannah chuckled. She made an angry face to Drake although she was clearly relieved that Bartie was not running around topless.

 ‘Come, I have made coffee and breakfast for you.’ she said to Drake, holding Bartie’s hand and leading them to the dining room.

‘Savannah, Why is Beaumont house so empty? Where is your staff?’ he asked following her sister to the dining room.

‘We cannot afford staff. I have a maid who comes and cleans the rooms that we use. We have closed off many rooms.’ she said walking to the dining room. She filled Drake in about the financial condition of Beaumont house. 

‘Where is Bertrand?’ Drake asked.

‘He has gone for some business. He is working hard to sustain our lives.’

‘Savannah, is there something I can do? I don't know, but I am a Duke. I can lend you money.’ he said with a concern in his voice, taking his seat on the dining table.

‘Bertrand didn’t accept money even from Maxwell. He wants to do this on his own.’ Savannah said giving some cereal to Bartie.

‘I am sorry to see you like this. It must be hard for you.’ Drake said with concern in his eyes. He knew Savannah always wanted a life for royalty. When he found out that he is married to Bertrand, whom he never liked, he thought at least she has a life she always wanted. But instead, she is going through a hard time.  

‘No, it’s not that bad. We are happy. We have enough money to keep us going. We still are Duke and Duchess. It’s just a hard time, it will pass.’ Savannah said waving her hand, smiling. She placed a plate of bacon and eggs in front of Drake and one for herself and took her seat in front of  Drake. 

Drake didn't say anything, but Savannah seemed to read his mind.

‘Drake, I knew what I was getting into. Bertrand told me everything about his financial condition. I didn’t marry him because he is a duke. I married him because I love him.’ Savannah smiled at him reassuringly. Her eyes moved from Drake to Bartie who had spilled half cereal on the table while trying to feed himself, she chuckled and moved to help Bartie. Drake saw a content on her face, as she wiped the toddler clean and helping him feed himself. Drake’s heart warmed looking at her. 

He wasn't sure how to ask her about his doubts about Riley. He stared at the plate in front of him, before something came to his mind.‘Where is Maxwell, I haven't seen him since my accident.’ 

‘He is backpacking across Western Europe. He stays out of reach for days.’ Savannah took her seat in front of him.

‘Backpacking? Maxwell? is this the same Maxwell we are talking about?’ Drake quirked an eyebrow.

‘He is searching for a story. He is a writer now.’ she chuckled seeing the surprise on Drake’s face.

‘Are you kidding me?’ Drake laughed, shaking his head. His laugh faded as a strained expression took over his feature. Savannah realized he hadn't visited her for this. ‘By the way, what was that you wanted to talk about?’ Savannah asked him.

‘I... I am facing a hard time placing my self in my new life.’ Drake rubbed his forehead.

‘I can understand.’ Savannah said placing a hand on his, ‘So, don't you remember anything?’

‘No. Nothing.’ he said leaning back on his chair.’ And that place! it feels like a prison.’ he covered his face with his hands.

‘What are you talking about? That's the place you called your home!’ 

Drake took a deep breath. He was supposed to feel home in a strange estate with a strange woman who was his wife. But nothing of that place felt like home. And he couldn't ignore the things he had heard from Madeliene and from Riley. 

‘Have you talked this with Riley? About how you feel?’ Savannah broke the silence.

‘No’ Drake looked down, trying to find words to ask her.

‘You should talk to her.’ she said, trying to read his face.

‘Savannah, about her. Do you know how was our relation?’ he asked.

‘Drake, you are the happiest couple I know. I often told you that seeing you too together, reminded me of mom and dad.’ She smiled reassuringly.

‘Savannah was Riley involved with...Liam?’ he thought it was best to ask her directly. 

‘Drake, why are you having this conversation with me? You should be talking to Riley about this.’ Savannah’s eyebrows knitted in confusion. 

‘Please, Savannah, I need to know, I...I don't think I can trust her.’ he looked at her pleading.

‘Drake, Riley came to Cordonia as Liam’s suitor. House Beaumont had sponsored her. I first met her when you came to my apartment with her in Paris. Liam was engaged to Madeliene at that time.’ 

He remembered that Madeliene mentioned Riley was Liam’s mistress when they were engaged. He swallowed as he asked her,’Was she Liam’s ... was she with Liam when we came to Paris?’

‘Drake, I don't know much, but when I returned to court, I could see that you two were already in love.’ she said. She had no clue how she can make him believe her. Then a thought came to her. ‘Wait a minute. Please watch Bartie. I will be back in a minute.’ she said and walked out as fast as she could. She came back with the same speed, with a book with Maxwell’s picture on it.

‘Read this, It should have all your answers. ‘ she handed him the book - The Royal Romance.

‘Wha’s this?’ Drake looked at the book and turned it over to read the back.

‘It is Riley’s story. Your story. I haven't read it yet. Just completed first few chapters. It's difficult to get time, you know, with Bartie and taking care of the house.’ she said, picking up Bartie.

‘Thanks, I guess I should take your leave now.’ he said, holding the book in his hands.

‘Drake, Riley loves you. I know it. Don’t doubt her. Just give her a chance, okay?; Savannah said giving him a short hug. ‘Everything will fall back to its place. Just hang in there.’ 

Drake kissed her forehead before leaving for the Palace.

----

Drake sat on the back seat of the car with the book in his lap. He read Riley’s story in Maxwell's words through the entire ride. He read through the stories of Riley moving to Cordonia and winning hearts of people at court as well as in media in Social Season. Although not mentioned clearly, he realized that Liam was planning on proposing Riley on his coronation. If the pictures of Tariq scandal hadn't leaked, Liam would have proposed her. 

He closed the book before reading ahead. He knew that Liam always got what he wanted. He knew that Liam would not have let her go if he had fallen for her. He feared that if he read further, he would not be able to handle the truth. He kept the book on the side. He looked outside the window, Palace was still far, he closed his eyes trying to take a nap.

Just forget about it. Maybe Savannah is right. She does love me He thought

He remembered how she took care of him in hospital. Always there for him, even though, he didn't remember her, acted with her as if they had just met. He remembered the kiss they shared in their bedroom.

She is a strong, confident, beautiful women. If Liam was interested in her, how did she end up with me?

He sat up and took the book. He read through the next chapters where suddenly the focus had changed from Riley and Liam to Riley and him. There were mentions of Liam with Madeleine, but no mention of Riley being his mistress. He read through the anecdotes of how they fell in love while trying to find Tariq. How they slowly warmed up to each other and realized that they were in love. He smiled reading about her, he realized she was a kind-hearted, confident woman. She was completely different from the women he had met in the court. He started admiring her, he could see how he could have fallen for her.  

The book had a one-line mention of Liam breaking off his engagement with Madeleine because he realized that she was not a better person to be a Queen. Everyone had speculated why Liam hadn't proposed Riley. But they didn't disclose it. King Liam although announced that Riley will be the new Duchess of Valtoria. 

Drake skipped through the description of the Homecoming Ball until he noticed that an assassination attack happened that night at the palace. He read the paragraph that mentioned him taking the bullet for her. His hand went to his shoulder where the bullet had hit him. He had noticed the wound earlier but hadn't given it much of a thought. He realized he must be in love with Riley to risk his life for her. 

He was sure by now that he was in love with her. But was she too in love with him? Why would a woman as astonishing as her, who had King Liam head over heels for her, would ever want to be with him? He was a nobody. He had nothing to offer her. Then why? Why did she marry him instead of Liam? 

He hoped to find answers to these as his car entered the Palace grounds. He closed the book and looked out of the car window at the Palace he had lived most of his life. Hopefully, King Liam will have some answers for him.

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Pixelberry.

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[mind-reader1]

Queen of Hearts (Ch. 28)

Drake x MC (Emma Barnes)

TRR AU: What would happen if Emma loved Drake but had to marry Liam?

Catch up here

Warnings: harsh language 

Note:

Word Count: 2,166

Summary: This is it! The big fight! The one you’ve all been waiting for, what will it mean for our lovebirds? 

Chapter 28: Natural - Imagine Dragons

That's the price you pay

Leave behind your heartache, cast away

Just another product of today

Rather be the hunter than the prey

And you're standing on the edge, face up 'cause you're a

Natural

A beating heart of stone

You gotta be so cold

To make it in this world

Yeah, you're a natural

Living your life cutthroat

You gotta be so cold

Yeah, you're a natural

Deep inside me, I'm fading to black, I'm fading

Took an oath by the blood of my hand, won't break it

I can taste it, the end is upon us, I swear

Gonna make it

I'm gonna make it

She was dancing by Drake and Liam when Maxwell made his way over, keeping with the beat.

“After all that excitement I'll bet you're glad I secretly married you!” the three of them froze, Emma and Drake shooting daggers at Maxwell, Liam looking between them.

“What?” He asked through clenched teeth.

“It's nothing Liam. Just Maxwell being Maxwell.” Emma tried to lie, but she wasn’t convincing anyone.

“It's not nothing. He said secretly married. What is he talking about?” No one answered.

“Maxwell what are you talking about?” Liam raised his voice and people began to notice.

“Let's take this somewhere private.” Emma walked towards the hall where they would be out of view and earshot of the ballroom.

“What are you hiding from me?” She rolled her eyes as she looked at Liam.

“Seriously? Just let it go Liam!”  

“I will not! We're friends, aren't we? Or are we back to not being friends? I can't keep up anymore. Besides, if you and Drake have done some ridiculous thing to ruin this marriage I need to know!”

“That's rich Liam. You're not our friend and we're not the only ones risking this image! The way you look at Olivia, everyone sees it!” He was taken aback, but Emma was sick of it, she tore into him.

“If you were Drake's friend you wouldn't have dipped me to kiss me like that. Oh, the super romantic vows were also a very nice touch.” She said sarcastically.

“What else? Oh yeah, you wouldn't have made me dance with you to a song that was important to me and Drake. You told me I could be with Drake but make us feel guilty every time we're together! You wouldn't have put us in this position in the first place if we were your friends Liam! I’m stuck pretending to love you because your family can’t keep their shit together! Maybe you’re not deserving of the crown Liam. I thought I knew who you were when I signed on for this, but now I’m really not sure, not like I ever had a choice in the matter anyways.” Liam looked like he had just been punched in the gut.

"Oh really? If he was my best friend, my brother, he wouldn't have fucked you behind my back!"

"Drake was a better friend that you ever were! Not that it's any of your business, but he wouldn't sleep with me until after my name was cleared. He wanted me to have a chance to choose freely unlike you! You never gave me a choice Liam!"

"You expect me to believe that? The staff saw Drake leaving your room that night after Tariq! Maybe the rumors were right about you after all! I've given you everything you could've wanted Emma and you're acting like a spoiled, ungrateful court whore!" Emma slapped him, leaving a bright red handprint on his cheek, stinging, they could've sworn it echoed through the ballroom.

"How dare you speak to her like that! For once someone didn't choose you and you really just can't understand that!" Drake got in his face, shoving him. His blood boiling, he couldn't believe Liam claimed to love her, but would speak about her like that.

"Get out! Get out of my palace! Your traitorous backstabbers!" Liam looked like he might punch Drake, instead tears welled up in his eyes, tears of frustration and hurt, everyone's emotions still heightened and raw from the fight with Anton. Drake grabbed Emma's hand and pulled her out of there, straight to a car. Drake gave the driver and address and they pulled up in front of a secluded cabin, only a short drive from the palace. Emma was emotionally spent, crying as she stepped out of the car. Drake grabbed her hand and started to walk in, but Emma didn't budge, he scooped her up and carefully opened the door, carrying her inside. It wasn't how he imagined carrying her across the threshold, but none of this had gone how he hoped. He gently set her down and Emma clawed at her zipper desperately, Drake stepping over to help her undo it. She shed the dress and latched onto Drake, getting it all out as he gently ran a hand over her hair, pulling her close with his other.

“It's okay Em. It's going to be okay.” She pulled away, her makeup all over his suit jacket.

“I can't believe he said those things to me Drake! I hate him! I hate his guts! The way he talked about you!” Drake tried to keep his voice even, his blood was still boiling though.

“Me too Walker, me too. Let's not think about him anymore. This is our space, our refuge, you and me. No one else.” Emma nodded and kissed him sweetly.

“Thank you Drake. For everything. I thought I might lose you today, I thought it was over for us. It's not though, we survived, and all I want is to curl up with my husband and forget about it.” Drake kissed Emma gently and nodded, stripping down before climbing into bed beside her and pulling her close. They could feel the others heart racing, as they laid there though, they finally slowed. The only sounds were crickets and their even breathing as they finally fell asleep, exhausted from the day’s events.

Back at the palace, Liam had made an announcement about Emma not feeling well, he said she had gone to lay down, after that the reception was basically over. He was heartbroken, Emma and Drake had betrayed him worse than he ever thought possible and so in his anger he took it out on them. Now he had probably lost her forever, sure he liked Olivia, but she wasn't Emma, she never would be. They were probably together right now, enjoying what he wished was his honeymoon with her. He'd never been with her and he wanted nothing more than to show her how much he loved her, to make her understand, but he had ruined it all. He drank himself to sleep that night, feeling sorry for himself.

It had been weeks since he'd seen Emma or Drake, they had been holed up in their cabin with the exception of Anton's court appearance. Each encounter was cold and brief, Emma's body tensing any time he touched her for the cameras. People had already started to comment too, no one had seen Emma around the palace or Drake, but they had seen an awful lot of Olivia. He knew he needed a save face and he had the perfect idea in mind.

That morning Emma woke up before Drake, he was laying on his back, the sheet covering only up to his waist. Emma trailed gentle kisses down his chest until he woke up.

“Walker!” He smiled and brought her face up for a kiss.

“Marshmallow.” He grinned, she knew that he loved when she called him that, their little secret.

“You sure do know how to wake a guy up.” He rolled over, so he was on top of Emma who giggled, married life had been bliss since the palace was leaving them alone. It was easy to forget she was queen, until they had to go back. Anton's trial had been happening and the press was all over it, they were like vultures. Emma couldn't stand to be near Liam, especially since the last time. The press had asked when there would be an heir, they played it off, but as soon as they were behind closed doors Liam had turned on her. She could still hear his words.

“They're right. I need an heir so nothing like this happens again, I'm sure you and Drake have been working on that plenty though.” His voice was cold and mechanical, she turned without a word to find Drake and go home, but he reached out and grabbed her wrist. He handed her two sealed envelopes with her and Drake's names on them. It had been invitations for later today. She was broken out of her thoughts when Drake began to whisper in her ear.

“I can tell you're someplace else right now. We need to get ready anyways.” He started to climb off her and out of bed, but Emma pulled him back groaning.

“No please. Let's just skip it and stay in bed all day.” Drake turned and gave her one last lingering kiss before walking to the closet.

“As much as I'd love that Walker, you're queen and you've got responsibilities for it.” She rolled her eyes, but she knew he was right. They went to the boutique as instructed and found the rest of their friends waiting for them. Before they really had a chance to talk, Madeleine was there instructing them all the change. Hanna chose her beautiful floral dress, Drake wore his classic grey suit, Olivia wore her black and red one shoulder dress that was repaired since Anton stabbed her, Maxwell wore his squid suit proudly and even handed over Cooper's suit! Emma carefully dressed him up before dressing up herself. Madeleine handed her a beautiful red wine gown, it was off the shoulder, long sleeve with gold accents along the top and skirt. Drake was practically drooling as she twirled for him, even Olivia was impressed, but not for long as Madeleine whisked then off to the throne room. It was decorated elegantly, fit for a royal ceremony, trumpets began to blare, and Madeleine arranged everyone in a line as Liam appeared. He wore a suit with the same color as Emma's, suddenly she hated the dress, no doubt Liam's doing, but of course it made sense for the King and Queen to match during a royal event.

“What is all this?” Olivia asked. Liam smiled and looked at them.

“All will become clear in a moment.” He turned to address the crowd. He gave a speech about how they were there on 'honor their national heroes,’ and thank them for their bravery. One by one he went down the line starting with Maxwell for his optimism, he was deemed 'Guardian of the Realm!”

Hana was also deemed Guardian of the Realm for her grace and companionship.

“Duchess Olivia, for your determination, invaluable help, and honorable fighting aptitude, I hereby dub thee Guardian of the Realm!” Liam placed her medallion around her neck, his fingertips grazing her skin as he looked into her eyes just a moment too long. Madeleine cleared her throat and Liam bowed gracefully before moving on.

“Sir Drake Walker, for your selfless sacrifice for Cordonia, to its citizens, its king and most importantly taking a bullet for my wife, the queen,” Drake jaw clenched when Liam called Emma his wife, Liam's eyes gleamed knowing the rise it got out if his former best friend, “I hereby dub thee Guardian of the Realm!”

“Guardians step forward and be recognized!” They all stepped forward and Emma watched as the cameras flashed around them, everyone wanting to get the perfect shot of Cordonia's heroes.

“Finally, Emma Rhys!” Emma repressed a flinch as he used his last name, he knew very well she wanted to be called Emma Barnes still.

“From the moment you stepped foot in Cordonia, you treated it like your home and the people as your family. You were promised the chance at a better life and I believe you've found that, but really you made everyone's lives in this nation better by being here. You fought for us, unified us, and stole our hearts, especially mine. I hereby dub thee Champion of the Realm, the highest title bestowed by the crown.”

Liam placed an even more ornate medallion around her neck, Emma was stunned. She wasn't sure why Liam was doing this, the more she thought about it though, she was sure there was some ulterior motive behind it. It was only a moment before Emma figured it out, Liam decided to form a Royal Council, all of the guardians were to be members as well as Kiara and Madeleine. It was a way to make Emma have to come to the palace more, gave Olivia an excuse to hang around, and Kiara more chances to throw herself at Drake. Liam couldn't just leave them alone, they walked to the ballroom and Liam whisked her onto the dance floor.

“Why are you doing this Liam?” She leaned away from him as much has she could without drawing attention.

“Doing what Emma? This will be beneficial for Cordornia.” she rolled her eyes.

“Why us though? Why won't you just let us be happy? You have Olivia.”

“I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about Emma. I have some business to attend to. I'll see you for the first council meeting.” He surprised her with a kiss on the lips as the song ended. Emma was fuming, she made sure she greeted everyone who was important and slipped out with Drake.

Next Time: We jump forward one year and check in on our 2 favorite (and 1 least favorite) people as the topic of an heir becomes a hot button issue. 

Tag List:  @notoriouscs @brightpinkpeppercorn @ooo-barff-ooo @leelee10898 @princesstopgun@choicesyouplayandmore @sleepwalkingelite @roonarific  @indigo39@skyila @speedyoperarascalparty @andy-loves-corgis @furiousherringoperatortoad@drakewalkerfics @findingdrake @sue9659 @smritysriv @larryssunflower @likethetailofacomet @zaffrenotes @mrsdrakewalkerblog @agent-bossypants @endlessly-searching-for-you   @cgd03 @simsvetements @jovialyouthmusic @jlouise88 @bettys-mom

[celticheartedfangirl]

Star-Crossed, Chapter 20 -- a Rumbelle/Swanfire AU fic

What?  An update??? Yup.

This fic is a sequel to my fanfic Catch a Falling Star, a Rumbelling of the movie Notting Hill.  That fic won ‘Best Movie AU’ in the TEAs last year. 

I also have several one shots -- you can find everthing here:  Notting Hill AU series

And you can find past chapters of THIS fic here:  Star-Crossed

Summary:   This story takes place in the “Catch a Falling Star” verse. Nick and Belle Gold are nearing their 13th anniversary. Their idyllic, blissfully happy life is about to take a sharp turn into difficult times, between dealing with a pre-teen daughter’s sudden shift in attitude, a film role that brings out Nick’s insecurities, the fallout from the strained marriage of Bae and Emma, and a dangerous threat in the form of one of Nick’s new students that neither of them sees coming.

Chapter 20

Belle looked at Nick nervously, then at the box he was holding in his hand. "Well – are you going to answer my question or not?"

"I – I don't know," Belle said, fighting back tears. "I'm late," she whispered quietly.

"What! You – you're – Belle! How could you not tell me this?!"

"I'm sorry, alright! I didn't even think about it till the other night when I accidently tapped my calendar app – excuse me but the past couple of weeks have been a bit hectic, I wasn't thinking about which dates I needed to have extra tampons in my purse!" Belle grabbed the pregnancy test out of his hand.

"When were you intending to tell me this?"

"I don't know. Later."

"Later, when? Tonight? Tomorrow? When your fucking water breaks in nine months and you go into labor?" Nick shouted, becoming angrier with each comment.

"I didn't want to worry you - I don't even know that I'm pregnant!" Belle shouted at him in return. Nick buried his face in his hands and sighed, then looked up at Belle.

"Belle, I don't think I can do it again. Not now."

"You think I can? I can barely handle Olivia; you think I want another one?"

"You're on the pill, how did this happen?!"

"It's not one hundred percent fool proof. You know, we talked about this a decade ago when we had that other pregnancy scare – about you – you know. But you said no, I don't want to do that."

"Oh, so this is MY fault then! I see."

"No, it's no one's fault, it just – I don't know. I don't even want to think about it."

"I don't think that's an option." Nick pulled himself together, calming down a bit. "You should probably go take that test." Belle was quiet for a moment.

"Let me put the groceries away first," Belle whispered. The two of them emptied the grocery bags in silence, the tension in the room thickening with every passing second.

"Well?" Nick asked as Belle entered the room; he was waiting in bed for her, his face covered in obvious anxiety.

"I haven't looked at it yet," Belle said, holding the test in her hand and covering the result window with her palm. "I thought we should do that together."

"Well – let's do that then."

"I don't really want to," she quietly admitted.

"Sweetheart – you're either pregnant or you're not. If you are, then – well, then we'll have to make a choice. And if you aren't – well, then there's nothing to worry about."

"Not necessarily," Belle said.

"What do you mean?" Belle took a deep breath.

"Nick – my mother was only a few years younger than me when she -"

"Belle, don't – don't even think that," Nick said, his voice trembling.

"It's kind of hard not to."

"Come on – let's have a look," Nick said. Belle moved in closer to Nick and pulled her hand away. They looked at the result together; it was negative.

"Well – that rules that out then, doesn't it?" Belle said. She put the test on the table next to the bed and began to sob.

"Hey – the past couple of weeks have been maddening, right? With the gala, and Olivia being Olivia, everything with Bae and Emma, and my surgery – stress can, um – it can cause that to be – late, right?"

"I suppose," Belle sniffled.

"That's probably all it is. We're probably sitting here worrying for nothing. Come here, love." Belle snuggled up tightly into Nick's arms. "Let's call the doctor, get you an appointment as soon as possible to find out what's going on. It'll be alright. Whatever happens – it'll be alright."

"Nick – I'm afraid," Belle whimpered.

"Oh, I know, love. It's okay." Nick kissed the top of her head. "We'll get through this. Everything will be alright, sweetheart. I promise," Nick whispered as he held her securely in his arms. "I still want you and Olivia to go on that spa afternoon this weekend. I think you deserve it."

"Okay," Belle whined. "Nick, what if I – what if I'm sick? What will happen with you? With Olivia?"

"Belle – let's not assume the worst until you speak with someone with an actual medical degree, alright? And stay the hell off the Internet, you'll imagine you have all kinds of horrible things."

"Well, we – I mean we should probably figure out a plan, in case -"

"Belle – you're two weeks late for your period, and you're already planning your funeral?"

"Well, I mean – there are all of my business holdings, and my charity, and -" Nick placed his fingers against her lips to quiet her.

"Stop. Please, Belle – this is not a conversation I want to have with you until it becomes necessary. Frankly, I hope it never will. Now – how about you call the doctor, see if you can get in to see her tomorrow, and let's do something nice for ourselves this afternoon."

"Nick – until I see the doctor we probably shouldn't -"

"I never said anything about sex, why does your mind always go there?"

"Because yours does," Belle teased.

"I thought maybe – watch a movie – maybe make out like a couple of teenagers. Wish I could get into the hot tub, that'd be nice, but I doubt it'll be an option for a while."

"What do you want to watch?"

"Anything where there is no singing and that little English twat you're doing that movie with isn't on my screen." Belle chuckled a bit.

"It wasn't that bad."

"It was horrendous. I don't know where our daughter got such shitty taste but it certainly wasn't from me."

"Are you saying I have bad taste?" Belle asked, offended.

"I wonder what the gossip rags would say if they knew that Oscar winning actress and award winning author Belle French's guilty pleasure is watching every Lifetime and Hallmark movie ever made."

"They're – some of them are pretty good!"

"I dare you to make one then. Call Mulan, tell her that's what you want your next project to be."

"Well – maybe I will!" Belle sat up and made a face at him, then smiled a bit.

"Now that's what I want to see. That beautiful smile of yours. Everything will be fine, sweetheart. I promise it will," Nick told her as he cupped her chin in this palm of his hand. Belle took his hand and rubbed it against her cheek.

"Can we – not fight anymore?"

"That is always my preference. I am deeply sorry about what I said to you the other day, Belle. I know you would never do that. You are the most amazing woman and a far better wife and lover than I will ever deserve."

"Thank you. But you – you're pretty amazing yourself. I love you so much."

"I love you, too." Gold and Belle kissed for several minutes. "Hey – how about after all of this bullshit with my recovery and your film is over, we do a weekend getaway. Just the two of us."

"Oh, that would be wonderful, Nick! I'll have Mulan start looking into some places for ideas. You know where I've always wanted to go?"

"Where?"

"Alaska!"

"Alaska? What are we going to do, spend the weekend in an igloo?"

"Of course not – I hear they have some lovely resorts there. Ashley and Sean went two years ago and they raved about it, I'll have to call her and find out the details. They went hiking and kayaking and they got to observe bears -"

"Hiking and kayaking? Belle – come on," Nick said, looking down at his leg. "And bears? I want a quiet weekend, not a bear hunting expedition where I'd be the one hunted given my luck."

"Well – we don't have to do that, we can – stay in and – just snuggle."

"Belle, I'd prefer going somewhere that we can BOTH enjoy that doesn't involve the possibility of being eaten by a grizzly bear. How about you let me do the planning this time?"

"You – you want to plan our romantic getaway weekend?"

"What, you think I'm not capable of such a thing? I traveled before I met you, you know."

"On business," Belle reminded him.

"And very often with a woman."

"I don't want to hear about that."

"Now look who's jealous." Nick reached his arms out to her. "Come here." Belle snuggled into him once again. "Am I distracting you?"

"Yeah," Belle whispered.

"Good." Nick kissed the top of her head.

"I like this. The quiet. Us. Like when we were first together. There was nobody else in the world but you and me."

"Unfortunately, that's not a practical way to live. But it is nice on occasion."

"It's very nice." Belle sighed as Nick gently played with her hair. It didn't get much better than this.

Nick and Belle were still snuggled in bed several hours later; they had watched a movie and engaged in a few sessions of making out and heavy petting while it was playing, as Nick suggested. Nick began to have some twinges of pain as the film ended. He didn't want to take any medicine for it, but Belle insisted he take at least half a dose. It made him a bit relaxed, but he didn't want to fall asleep so he fought the effects of the medication by talking with Belle about their future getaway weekend.

"How about Vancouver? It's beautiful there. We could go whale watching," he suggested.

"That would be fun. Nick – take a nap, love. You can barely keep your eyes open."

"I don't want to sleep while you're upset," he complained.

"I'm not upset. I'm fine. Sweetheart, you're still recovering from surgery and you need to rest. I'll go get dinner started and I'll wake you when it's ready, alright?" Belle began to adjust the pillows behind him, forcing him into a prone position, as he had been sitting up a bit to further fight the effects of the pain medication.

"I'm not tired. Let's watch another movie," Nick mumbled, his eyes barely open.

"Shhh. Just close your eyes." Belle ran her hands across his face, forcing his eyes closed. Belle gently played with his hair for several minutes as Nick drifted off to sleep. After watching him sleep for a bit, Belle got out of bed and mad her way to the kitchen, where she began preparing their dinner. After nearly thirty minutes, she heard the front door open, and within seconds Olivia appeared in the kitchen, tossing her book bag onto the table.

"Hey, sweetheart! Oh, I've missed you, come here." Belle stopped what she was doing and pulled Olivia into a hug.

"Daddy said you weren't feeling good," Olivia said as she pulled out of the hug.

"Oh, I'm much better now, I just needed to get some rest."

"What are you cooking?"

"Steaks. Where's your brother?"

"He just dropped me off, he had stuff to do." Olivia reached into the cupboard and pulled out a glass, then opened the refrigerator, took out some juice, and poured it into the glass. "Is Daddy in the library? I need some help with my math homework." Olivia sat down at the table and opened her bag.

"Your father is taking a nap right now – maybe I can help you."

"It's MATH, mom." Olivia rolled her eyes.

"Well, I – I studied math at one time. Let me see."

"Okay, whatever." Olivia opened her book and showed Belle the page that contained her homework assignment. Belle looked it over for several minutes, until it became clear that the only thing she understood about what was on the page was the fact that these were numbers mixed in with a few letters. Math was never one of her best subjects, and she recalled how much she struggled even as an adult with the general math course she had to take for her undergraduate degree. She remembered Nick helping her and feeling like the biggest idiot in the world the entire time.

"I um – well, your father will be up for dinner, he can help afterward." Olivia rolled her eyes once again, and took a sip of her juice. "You know – I was thinking – the past week has been really stressful and – well I thought you and I could do something together on Sunday. You're getting older and I thought maybe it was about time for you to go along with me to the spa. We can get facials – and I'll even let you try on a little bit of makeup. You can get a manicure too, any color nail polish you like. Doesn't that sound fun?"

"Heather wants me to come over on Sunday."

"Well – you can do that next Sunday."

"I don't think so." Olivia finished her juice and got up to put her glass in the dishwasher.

"Olivia, I – I was really looking forward to doing this with you. I think you'll really enjoy it once you get there."

"Mom, I don't want to go to the stupid spa with you, okay? God!" Olivia stomped out of the room, and Belle sat down at the table and began to cry.

[the-other-swan-arch]

Becoming a Father

@anotherlostswan

Wyatt sat in an uncomfortable chair in the NICU ( Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) wing of Boston Children’s Hospital, his knees bounced up and down while his hands rubbed high jean clad thighs. What the hell had he been thinking? Could he really do this? Self-doubt filled his mind, seconding guessing his decision. 

~~~

Ever since Emma had told him she was pregnant, Wyatt had been doing everything he could to make his life more stable...more reliable...make it so a social worker and the state would approve of him fostering Emma’s child while she was in jail. He had gotten a job, provided a plan for where the child would be while he worked, applied to online college’s so he could get a degree, and actually rented out a small apartment. It had taken him almost seven months to get everything ready and approved by the state, and start the foundation for a savings account. Wyatt would become the legal guardian of his niece or nephew when they were born until Emma was released, she would then become the child’s mother. 

That plan thought had gone down the drain a few weeks ago. Emma had called him as he was getting off work...her words stopping him in his tracks; she was putting the baby up for adoption...closed adoption. After all he had done, the plans he had made...he would have been able to give the kid some kind of life for the next three years...taken away in an instant. The blonde had tried to plead with her not to do this. That there was no guarantee the baby would be adopted, it could end up in the system just like they had, it could have a life just like they had and this time it wouldn’t have a sibling to protect it. But Emma wouldn’t listen. She had already filled out the paperwork, it was done.

He had never been so mad at his twin in his whole life. After that phone call they hadn’t talked. Not until the hospital, in the middle of the night, called telling him Emma was in labor. The young man had rushed to get there. Boy had he been surprised when Emma had twins, it was just supposed to be a little boy...but not, it was a beautiful baby boy and gorgeous little girl. But there were problems.The boy was healthy, perfectly fine. But the little girl? The color of her skin was tinted blue slightly, she could barely breath on her own and when she did breath she made a strained grunting sound. She was rushed from the room and down to NICU. Wyatt had asked what was wrong with her almost panicked, Emma laid her head back on the pillows eyes closed tightly as she tried to block it all out...she wasn’t their mother, she had already signed over rights to the state.

When the nurses in the room would only tell him that the baby girl had been taken down to NICU a growl had left the blonde’s lips, he glanced over at Emma. She opened her eyes, locking with his. She knew what he was thinking in one look, knew what was going through his mind. “Go...” She said in a weak whisper. That was all he needed, he left the room and started a jog down the hall trying to find where they had taken her.

~~~

The doctors had run blood tests, done x-rays of her chest to discover the little girl had what is known as RDS. They explained to Wyatt what it was, what caused it, and what they would need to do treat her. She was placed on an Endotracheal tube, was given pain medication and also received Surfactant replacement therapy. Wyatt stayed by her side the whole time, talking to her and gently rubbing her small chest or playing with her fingers. He was attached, more than he ever thought possible. This little girl became his world. He’d dropped out of college to stay with her as much as he could...he couldn’t give up his job, though he had thought about it, but he needed the money to keep the apartment, have insurance on his car, and pay for whatever this little girl was going to need. That’s right...Wyatt was going to keep her. Her case worker knew Wyatt, had been there through all of this since the beginning. She saw how Wyatt cared for this little one, how he had gotten his life together so he could originally become her legal guardian. So when Wyatt approached her about flat out adopting the little girl, the case worker had done all she could to help make that happen.

~~~

The memories of the last few months played in his mind and his determination kicked back in. He was Olivia’s father, he would be the best he could be for her and give her the world, he would be the parent he never had. The door to the nursery finally opened and Doctor Gillham stepped out with the little girl in her arms, a smile on her face. Wyatt stood up, rubbing his hands on his jeans one more time before putting the diaper bag he’d brought with him over his shoulder and picking up the infant baby carrier/car seat. “Hey,” His voice was shaky but hide most of his nerves.

“Hello, Wyatt.” Dr.Gillam said meeting him half way. “This little one is all ready to go home.”

He set the car seat down at his feet, taking Olivia into his arms, holding her close to his chest--protectively. “There’s my little monkey,” His voice much calmer and collected, he took one hand to stroke her cheek lovingly. “You ready to get out of here? I know I can’t wait to get you home...”

Dr.Gillham’s smile grew watching the two, “Oh she is definitely ready. She’s been fussy all morning, waiting on you.”

Wyatt looked up, “I tried to get here as soon as I could. But where I’m taking time off my boss kept me a little longer.” He explained.

“Wyatt, it’s okay.” She reassured him, “It gave me time to run a few last minute tests to make sure she’s all set to go. Which she is,” She told him. “I have a few prescriptions that you need to get filled. It’s the Bronchodilators and Diuretics, just follow the instructions on the pill bottles. You also bought the nebulizer we talked about?”

“Yes. I bought it the night you mentioned it. It’s already set up in my room ready to use.” Wyatt nodded, bouncing Olivia as she cooed. He took the prescriptions in one hand, still keeping a tight hold on the infant.

“And you set up an appointment with a pediatrician?” She just wanted to double check.

“Yeah, we are going in later this afternoon for her first appointment.”

“Then you are all set,” She placed a hand on his arm lightly, “You’ve got this. I have seen a lot of fathers in my time being here, but you? You are one of the most dedicated, attentive ones I have ever seen. That little girl is in wonderful hands. If you have any questions you are always welcome to call me. Have a great day Wyatt.” With that she turned and walked away.

Wyatt looked down at Olivia, “You hear that? We’ve got this. Everything is going to be okay. We might have our rough times but I promise you that we will get through it. I promise you that you’ll never be without me,” He leaned down to kiss her forehead, “I love you Olivia.” He moved down, placing the prescriptions on the floor next to the carrier before carefully placing her in it and strapping her in securely--he would never admit to anyone he had spent time practicing with a stuffed animal so he could do it smoothly with Olivia. He placed over her, tucking it around her. “There we go, all snug. It’s a little cold out there today.” Wyatt placed one more kiss on her forehead before pulling a pink little beanie from his pocket placing it on her head, making sure to keep her warm. Her immune system was already weak, he wouldn’t chance anything else happening. “Let’s go home.”

Three Years Later

Wyatt groaned as his alarm went off, he reached blindly for his phone with one hand while the other was wrapped around the little blonde curled up into his side. It was his day off, but they needed to get up early because Olivia had a doctors appointment around ten o’clock. Once the phone was in his hand, he opened his eyes turning it off. He let the phone fall to his side, turning to look down at his little girl--his little monkey--a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. She was tucked into his side, one arm over his chest and a leg curled over his stomach while her head rested on near his heart. She had her favorite stuffed animal pinned between them.

Wyatt leaned down, pressing kisses to her temple and forehead, “Liv...baby...it’s time to wake up.”

[melissalfinch]

Crushed Falcon by Melissa L. Finch Prologue Elusive Comprehension

An excerpt from my historical/fantasy fiction novel in progress

The carriage creaked and jostled when it met each bump on the road. It had been assigned to deliver myself, my five trunks of belongings and the two gritty-faced men I had hired for help from the train station in Portland, Maine to my new inherited home on Pine Street which I had inherited from my grandmother upon her recent passing. The year was 1909. It was the end of August. William Howard Taft was elected as our nation’s 27th President earlier that year. The weather was heavy with humidity from the low gray clouds that blanketed the sky, bringing on a mild heat, around 77 degrees Fahrenheit. It was in the late afternoon. The sun would not set until around 7:30pm that evening. There was a relieving cool breeze that stirred the leaves of the trees that surrounded the neighborhood. I do not think I could ever forget this day. So clear is it, yet only like a vivid dream.

I do not recall the names of the two men who accompanied me, but our encounter is not very relevant. I recall feeling very stiff with nerves during our 45 minute travel sitting so close together. Their smirks delivered the message to me that they knew of my uneasiness and it brought them some kind of amusement. They had most likely been drinking whiskey the night before because I could smell it on their pungent breaths. As I was jostled about and pushed too closely beside them, feeling the sides of my legs pressed against theirs, I felt like a fool for agreeing to hire these men, who most likely engaged in gambling and various forms of bootlegging. Besides help was probably already out in the front yard waiting for my arrival. I tried my best to look out the window and not think of the likely predicament I had put myself in of being robbed, beaten or something else unmentionable.

I had not been to the house since I was a small child visiting my grandmother, who it had recently belonged to. I had very few memories of it, but the few I had, were recalled with warmth and comfort. I think I remember the kitchen most of all. My grandmother loved to bake me oatmeal raisin cookies. I usually only ate hers. All the other oatmeal raisin cookies I tried always caused me great disappointment. After my family and I moved from Portland, Maine to Boston, Massachusetts when I was 5, Grandmother would often mail those cookies to me. I loved them even though my father insisted they were too dry and hard due to their travel. Sadly we stopped seeing her as often once we moved. Grandmother had passed away just 6 months prior to my inheritance. She had left me her beautiful home and grateful housekeeper Jeanette Kingsley. Jeanette had been with my grandmother nearly their whole lives. She had been my grandmothers maidservant as a teenager, being about ten years younger than my grandmother. Jeanette was there for my grandmother when my grandfather passed away in 1898 and she was there beside my grandmother when she breathed her last breath. I knew that the housekeeper would hate to leave the big beautiful house she had spent so much time in. Jeanette was well into her 50s when I moved in and I knew how hard it would be for her to start over and find work in another household. I knew Jeanette could be just as stubborn and fussy as my grandmother; hence their great friendship. In addition. I didn’t like the idea of living there all alone, so I welcomed her company.

Jeanette Kingsley came out to greet me with enthusiasm. She was a short round Negro woman that smelled like honey and peaches. I wasn’t sure if she had just finished baking peach pies for the whole town or if it was a permanent fragrance that emanated from her pores from spending so many years in various kitchens. She wore a simple dark brown dress with a white apron with yellowing eyelet trim, her hair pulled back in a country patterned kerchief. She gave me a big tight hug. “There you are Miss Sylvia! Oh it’s been too long!” she was breathless with affection. “And I’m so glad you hired some help.” She smiled gratefully at my two hooligan escorts. “My cousin Sammy was gonna come over with Ralph but Sammy’s wife went into labor this morning and Ralph gone done and got himself a real bad cough again. Poor Judy’s gotta take care of him and their four brats now! Oh! But never you mind them. I forgot you don’t know one of these damn fools I’m talkin’ about!” She let out a cheerful melodic chuckle that could only belong to the voice of a regular Sunday church singer like herself. I really couldn’t recall the last time I even saw Jeanette. It had to be over 15 years. The last time I had seen Grandmother was when I was a child. I was 27 when I moved into her home.

My moving men kept their good manners to the best of their ability. Tipping their hats to me after I paid them what we agreed upon at the train station, they went on their way after unloading my four trunks containing my belongings. As they rode off in the hired carriage I couldn’t help but feel ashamed of myself for assuming the worst of them, and suspecting their intentions, when they honestly just wanted to make a little extra living after they saw me disembark from the train, alone and flustered in the big bustling station, struggling to get the attendants to be careful with my trunks which held my clothing, a small amount of jewelry and books, photos and a few other heirlooms. The one with a golden-colored mustache even briefly leaned out the window of the carriage and waved back at me. I could hear them laughing a little as they rode off, most likely making fun of me and my suspicions.

Jeanette broke my distracted fixation on the carriage as it drove off with a loving nudge of her elbow. “Don’t you wanna go take a peak inside? I know ya gotta be itching to run up that staircase.” I gave her a smile, feeling a surge of relief and excitement.

My father and other remaining relatives of course thought I should be getting married and have a husband to buy me a home, a much grander home than this one, no doubt, but after I reached 25 with too many courtships having ended sourly, too many accounts of tender affection and romantic words mistaken for something that would last longer than whenever the next new young lady came of age or entered our social circle, or when my young gentlemen suitors grew perplexed by my opinions and too many words. I would hear the household and other relatives gossip bitterly about me becoming a spinster. It was a very sad and tearful day when Grandmother passed, but when I found out she had willed me her house, a spark went off in my mind and heart. I could get out of Boston and it’s disappointments and heartbreaks. I could get out of the house I grew up in and away from my mother’s ghost who haunted me since I lost her when I was seven years old. Grandmother kept in touch with me as I grew up without a mother. She was really one of the only relatives I was close to on my mom’s side. I often wondered how different my life would have been if she had raised me, feeling some kind of debt to my mother, her daughter, who we lost to a bad flu epidemic. Grandmother would often write letters to me when I was heartbroken over another failed courting, “With every end, is a new beginning,” she would write in her pretty cursive.

My father was not happy when I moved back to my birthplace in Maine, even though I tried to explain that it would be a fresh new start and I would find some way of making him proud. I assured him that my childhood ballet classes would not go to waste and that I would try to seek a career teaching ballet. It was only natural of me to desire a career in which my talents would be used. I had always loved music and the performing arts so much.

When I did leave, many other relatives, including my Aunt Agatha, a nanny, Ms Goviard, along with several maids which included Emma and Tabitha who would tease me profoundly, were all disgusted, especially that I left shortly after my father developed a suspicious cough. Aunt Agatha, Father’s sister would say how I would feel so awful later if something happened to him without me being there to care for him, and that it was completely disrespectful to him, after all he had done for me. I wasn’t sure if such words came out of his mouth or not, nor did I care much. Yes, it can be interpreted as being rather cold, I’ll admit, but my father and I were never close. We had our differences and could very seldom, if at all, compromise. Often I think he didn’t care what I did, just as long as it didn’t weigh down on his name. He was clearly upset that I was the only child being a girl. He wanted the Monbrook name to long outlive him, but he would most likely be very disappointed.

Besides, my father’s house was filled with help, who could provide better care than I was qualified to give. That’s how it always was. Without a wife and mother, my father hired all of the help he could get. I was raised by maids, nannies and housekeepers. I think they were all in a tiff because they just didn’t want be left alone with his grumbling old self.

My grandmother’s large spacious, two story house with an attic and a small basement had five small bedrooms upstairs. The place was still completely furnished from my grandparents life together. Jeanette directed me to the room she thought I’d like the most. It didn’t belong to my grandmother. That was the room, Jeanette stayed in. This one was kept for my cousin Olivia who lived there for a long time before disembarking to London with her wealthy business husband Ryan. All of this Jeannette filled me in on with scandalous excitement. My new bedroom had a great big four poster dark wooden bed with light blue bedding. A large armoire stood against the wall across from the bed near the door. A dainty ivory colored crochet doily covered the top. An inviting rocking chair was situated beneath a tall open window with thin white curtains billowing from the breeze. I stood before the window to catch the view. I looked to my left to see a smaller more simple house with an unkept yard and in desperate need of a paint job. I looked to the right to see another house a bit further away painted a dark brick red color. Most of the houses in the neighborhood on Pine street were built fairly close together. I hoped my privacy would be insured but that my neighbors were courteous and welcoming at the same time. The curtains from the window in clearest view, quickly flashed close. I thought I caught a glimpse of a blur of a redhead escape exposure. Apparently my new neighbors were just as curious of me as I was with them.

For my first night Jeanette made me a fantastic dinner of grilled chicken, green beans and mashed potatoes. I insisted that she did not have to do all the cooking. I would help out, too. We ate together and she busied herself talking about the gossip in her family and how she disapproved of this and that. I could tell it had been a while since she had had anyone to talk to and she was very happy to have me there. I also enjoyed her good-spirited chat.

I think I completely forgot where I was when I first woke up the following day. After all, I had spent the same 22 years of my life in the same house. I could hear Jeanette humming in the kitchen, most likely cooking some breakfast. I spent the afternoon unpacking and getting organized as I did with the next two weeks. I wanted to be respectful to my grandmother’s home and keep some things as they were, but Jeanette kept saying, “This is your house now. You do as best you see fit.” The first thing I wanted to do was get new bedding for my bedroom. As pretty as the blue was, I always fancied having peach and lavender accents.

It must have been the middle of the second week living on Pine Street when I awoke from my deep sleep to the sound of a child's screams and primordial wails. I sat up in a flash, jumping out of bed to find out where these cries were coming from. It was very late at night. I was home alone that day. Jeanette had warned me that she most likely would not be home until possibly the next morning because she had been hired on as extra help at the Andrews dinner gala. The Andrews were a family I was very well acquainted with. I had not been invited to the affair even though they knew I had recently moved into town. I shall explain my estranged relationship with them later.

A loud crash followed these cries and then there was no more. Only faint feminine sobs could be heard. Then there was silence. I was briefly tempted to call out for Jeanette, hoping I had slept through her return home, hoping she would quickly apologize for dropping something in the bathroom to wake me, but that still, dull silence confirmed I was indeed completely alone in the house, and that disturbing noise had come from outside, from one of the neighboring houses.

For half an hour I sat in my rocking chair under the window, ignoring the chill of the merciless long past midnight breeze. By now we had entered September. Autumn was drawing near. The moon hung high and bright in a clear sky, bright enough to shine light down on the brick red colored house to the right of me. There was a dim orange colored glow from an old kerosene lamp lighting up one of the windows. After 30 minutes or so, it was snuffed out and then the house was still and quiet. The same house whose curtains stirred from the redhead watching me the first day I moved in.

[harryburger]

Fic Tag-Game

List the first lines of your last 20 stories (or however many you have altogether). 

See if there are any patterns. 

The, tag your favorite authors

I was tagged by @kingotabek

I’m not sure who to tag......so if anyone writes fic and follows me you can say I tagged you.

Lies || Harry Styles (AU) - "London don't walk away from me!" Harry yelled as he tried to catch up to me.I continued to walk not wanting to look back and see how far away he was or even how close he might be. Anger continued to course through my veins, I never imagined he would do this type of thing. I thought he was my best friend. Why would he lie to me and not expect to get caught?

30 days - I place the blunt to my lips as I inhaled. The feeling was something that I was way too familiar with, I blew out the smoke as my body began to rejoice in the feeling. The party around me was in full swing, there wasn't one person who wasn't enjoying what was going on around them. I was in my own world, nothing was going wrong in my life and me sure as hell wasn't letting anything damper my mood right now. 

Betrayal // h. s. au - The sound of muffled voices surround me, i don't know what happened or even where I'm at. "Drive Louis! Drive!" Louis?  The sound of gun shots makes my head hurt more, the pounding sensation grows more and more as the sound gets closer.  The force of the car moving forward makes my head sling against the window.  I squeeze my eyes tight as the pain grows. 

The Life of Riley Stromberg || E3 & 1D - I stayed sitting on the couch as Lucas decided to go make some more popcorn, he has literally been at my side since Dad and Luke left for some sort of business work.  they were always leaving mom, Kory and i behind.  so having Lucas over helps me keep my mind off missing my older brother and my favorite person in the world, my uncle wes."popcorn my lady." Lucas spoke as he took his original seat beside me while handing me the bowl. i shook my head at his wording before smiling."you are such a dork sometimes."

The Break Up Plan // Jai Brooks -  There she was, Jess Taylor. I watched on admiring her. The way her eyes glistened as she walked down the hallway. Her beauty was mesmerizing. The way she laughed as she starred on. Her smile was the best thing to look at in the world, she had the best figure. Not to big not to small just perfect. I watched on as she kept getting closer. I couldn't help but smile. Her blue eyes shined bright, brighter then the bluest ocean. I couldn't help but look onto her. Her blonde hair sways as she still proceeds to make her way down the hallway. Watching her wrap her arms tightly around him. I stand back as he picks her up and swings around, her laugh is heard. My smile grows but soon fades as his lips meet hers.

A Dream Come True | Keaton Stromberg ||COMPLETED||  - I can't believe that today is the day I move to Cali with my two best friends. I barley had any sleep last night because all I kept thinking about was that Im finally going to leave this hell hole I call home. I was taken out of my thoughts by my mom knocking on my door."Morgan get up or you're going to miss your flight!""I'm up" I said loud enough for her to hear.As I started to get out the bed I realized that Im probably breaking her heart by leaving. I'm such a Momma's girl, definitely not a daddy's girl. I don't talk to my father but I do have a step dad and grandparents that's all I need in life right?

Disconnected || L.H. - She stayed seated in the grass as the cheers of the crowd as the baseball team yet again scores. Carly fought the urge to turn aroun and watch the game. She clutches her camera in her hands before raising it up and capturing yet another picture of the beautiful sunset that is placed in front of her. She smiles as she finally feels at peace. She snaps a few more angelic photos before grabbing her jacket from beside her. Standing back to her feet she notices him, his team mates congradualte him on yet another win. The cheering gets more loud as girls that waited on the stands finally got the chance to go to him. Everyone embracing him in a tight hug, Carly couldn help but laugh at their actions. Acting as if the boy is a star, or he played a amazing game. 

That Boy // l.p. ||COMPLETED|| - Emma Johns.A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. Having all the guys drool over you was normal to her. But most guys had a chance with the girl of my dreams. I on the other hand just admired her from a far. Keeping her in my thoughts and dreams was the only I would ever get close to her. She was the head cheerleader and the only girl at Samuel's High who has a boy friend from America. All the girls wanted to be her friend, or know how she got a guy from America. Seeing her walk around laughing and smiling as I wished to be the cause of it. Just the sight of made my heart race. Knowing that her attention would never be focused on me, just the idea of her and me is comical.

Fake Boyfriend || Keaton Stromberg {Completed} - Your personality" His words keep playing over and over in my mind. I was fine if he would have told me he didn't like me like that but my personality. Seeing that my personality wasn't what he wanted in a girl broke my heart, I knew I wasn't good enough for him and that there was no chance of me an him being together but I never gave up. Liking a guy all through high school was just plain stupid. Everything he has ever said to me was lies, he told me everything I wanted to hear from someone. He never cared that's what kills me. Ever since those two words escaped his lips I haven't left my room or let along the house. 

The Nightmares That Follow A Dream || Keaton Stromberg \ COMPLETED| - Morgan had to make a decision to either stay in California with the love of her life Keaton and let something bad happen to him or leave it all behind to go live with a guy who will do anything to ruin her life. Morgan left Keaton and everyone behind to live with Scott it wasn't the best choice she made but she knew she made it for the right reasons. Scott has done everything to her from beating, raping, to almost killing Morgan. But what can she do and if she tried to leave she will get it worse then she already does. 

I’m No Good For You // H. S. - I stay focused in class as Mrs. Crawford begins to explain the assignment that we be explained to us in the next couple days as our partners will soon be named. I write down the notes that are needed for this assignment as how many paragraphs will be needed and when its due. Her words soon fade as she stops talking all together.I look up at her noticing her attention is focused on the back at the room. Knowing there is only one person she could be focused on and that has to be the arrogant Harry Styles. The only guy in school that can have any girl he wants and who is hated by everyone.

A Dream Boy || Keaton Stromberg - "Look at me Rowen" he says grabbing my face in his hands. "You're such a beautiful girl."I look up at into his green eyes, wishing and hoping that this will be the moment he finally kisses me. As he starts to lean in, i do the same waiting for the contact. "Rowen get up you have school!" I jump awake at the sound of my dad yelling at me. I blink my eyes, trying to contract the normal surroundings.  This makes a month i having these weird dreams of a light brown curly headed boy.  I never seen a boy like this, his facial features astonish me. 

Rejected // Wesley Stromberg -  "Annie one date?" I question "Wes no, I can't sorry" she says before walking off. Haven't I learned my lesson by now, that every time I ask her out she always says no. But I know that she cares about me, but why not give me a chance? I understand that we are best friends but she can go out with Drew who has been her neighbor since she was three. This is all so confusing. 

Living with the Cliffords || m.c. - I stay seated on the couch as Noah kept pulling at my hair. I could see the doubt laced in Cade's eyes as she looked to the twin girls playing in the floor."Michael i love you and all but-""Trust me i got this." I reassured her as gestured her to go.She looked towards Noah as has his hand stayed tightly in my hair before she turned towards the door, the smile on her face was not genuine.

Something About The Way She Looks - "Olivia get up or you will be late for school!" My mom yells from downstairs. I slowly roll over, not fully aware that I'm on the edge until I find myself laying on the floor."Fuck." I mutter to myself as I ease off the floor and stumble towards the bathroom to get ready to go to hell.. I mean school.I looked in the mirror to see a sight I sure was a natural thing for me, my hair was wildly everywhere. I try running my fingers through the mess in hopes to tame it down but as my fingers get stuck in the wild mess I know surely that wouldn't happen.

Sexting ✖ h.s - I stay looking at my phone wondering how in the hell I know all of these people or how their numbers ended up in my phone. I scroll down until one strikes my attention.Abby Shaw.God. How it has been so long since I talked to her. Last time I remember actually communication with her was when Jason pushed me into her and she looked at me wide eyed as her books stayed scattered on the floor. I mutter a quick apology before calling Jason a dick.

Innocent | a.i. - Today was the day I was moving across town, as my mother has acquired a new job. I wasn't so happy about this move as I would be leaving everything behind me that I have come accustom to. I remember the exact conversation my mother and stepfather conversed with me about this whole move. I was so against it. I wanted to stay.I believe I even brought the idea of living on my own or with some friends but my mother was so destined on me coming along. So here I am caring my last box to the car as the yelled for me to hurry. Taking a quick glance at the house I have so many fond memories in, I sigh before heading towards the running vehicle.

[mind-reader1]

Queen of Hearts (Ch.17)

Drake x MC (Emma Barnes)

TRR AU: What would happen if Emma loved Drake but had to marry Liam?

Catch up here

Warnings: Some cursing

Note: Enjoy! Let me know if you’d like to be added/removed to the tag list. This chapter is short, but there will be some juuuuuicy NSFW coming Saturday or Sunday. 

Word Count: 2490

Summary: It’s the night of the costume ball, but it’s not a ball without some drama! Neville challenges Drake to a duel, a mysterious woman in red makes an appearance at court with veiled threats. 

Chapter 17: Ours - Taylor Swift 

Seems like there's always Someone who disapproves, They'll judge it like they know about me and you, And the verdict comes from those with nothing else to do, The jury's out, And my choice is you.

So don't you worry your pretty little mind, People throw rocks at things that shine, And life makes love look hard, The stakes are high, The waters rough, But this love is ours,

And it's not theirs to speculate, If it's wrong and, Your hands are tough but they are where, My belong in, I'll fight their doubt and give you faith with this song for you.

“Your dress is magnifique!” Kiara and Penelope came up to the group followed by Madeleine as they all waited to be heralded. Emma was going to answer, but Kiara had already turned on Drake, her eyes raking up and down his body.

“I like this noble look on you Drake.” Emma rolled her eyes. She was starting to think there was only room at court for one bird sigil. Drake cleared his throat awkwardly and practically shoved Maxwell between him and Kiara. Everyone made idle chit chat before it was time to enter.

“Are you ready?” Liam whispered down to Emma. It would be their first time announced at court together, in fact it was her first time being announced to court at all, and it couldn't be with the one person she wanted most. She swallowed hard and nodded.

“Duchess Emma Barnes of Valtoria and his Majesty King Liam!” All eyes turned to them and Emma forced a smile as they descended the stairs.

“This is our first time back at the palace, how are you doing?” Emma couldn't lie she was a little jittery.

“I'll be okay. I'm just worried about you and Drake.” Liam gave her a reassuring smile and watched as their friends were announced by the herald, Constantine and Regina going last.

“I'm okay. Something about Drake is different today, he seems...happier.” Emma nodded, she had noticed it too.

“I wonder if Kiara has anything to do with it.” Liam teased, Emma didn't find it that funny. She swiftly hit Liam, scowling, before anyone could notice.

“Not funny Liam.”

“Got it. Excuse me.” He walked into the middle of the crowd, the conversation stopping as they waited for his speech. He addressed the attack and thanked everyone for being there before Constantine gave a speech, gushing about how he met Regina at a costume ball years ago. Constantine then dragged Liam away and Emma made her rounds until the band began to play. Liam approached her and bowed.

“May I have this dance?” Emma took his outstretched hand and followed him onto the dance floor. As she and Liam spun, she watched as Drake desperately tried to find someone to dance with, the only woman left was Kiara who was eager to see Drake's moves.

“Is there a way we can get rid of Kiara?” Emma muttered.

“No, besides we need all the nobles we can get. I wanted to thank you for your support at the hospital earlier, it really meant a lot to me.” Emma gave him a quick smile.

“I'm working on being a better friend, it seems like you are too.” He nodded, and they suddenly heard a commotion. Looking over they saw that Neville and Drake had collided on the dance floor.

“Walker, I hardly recognized you in that horrendous…thing you're wearing.” Drake rolled his eyes, but Emma had heard enough.

“Where’d you buy that ugly thing? The Goodwill reject box?” A chuckle rippled through the small group that was gathered.

“It's Armani! It probably costs more than your entire Royal wannabe wardrobe.” Neville sneered at both of them, not caring that Emma was the future queen.

“You can dress the peasant up all you'd like, but he'll never fit in! He'll always be the one that everyone pities! Only around to serve as the King's lapdog. He’ll never enjoy things such as this English waltz.” Liam grabbed Emma's wrist before she could lunge at Neville, she ripped her hand away and stared at him in disbelief. She couldn't believe that he was letting someone talk about his best friend like that. Emma was hoping that Drake would punch him, but instead he let Neville turn back to his date.

“Actually, it's a Viennese waltz and you're jumping in on the wrong beat.” A large crowd had now gathered around them and all “oohed” at Drake's insult. Neville was floored, he had never made such a mistake. Drake turned, and Emma saw the smirk on his face. She ran up beside him and threw her arms around him in a hug, before remembering they were in public and taking a step back.

“That was amazing Drake. I've never been prouder of you.”

“You'll never be one of us! You don't know how not to behave like a caveman!”

“Oh really? The man who trips over his own feet and picks fights for the hell of it is calling me a caveman?” the crowd around them began to laugh, some even clapped as Neville looked beside himself.

“I've had enough!” Neville pulled out a white glove and threw it at Drake's feet.

“I, Lord Neville Vancoeur, demand that you meet me in a duel.” Everyone around them gasped, Emma looked to Liam.

“There hasn't been an honor duel in over 100 years.” Emma's mind was flooded with questions, the biggest, what did that mean for Drake.

“I accept.” Drake picked up the glove and glared at Neville.

“Drake!” He met Emma's gaze, both of them holding it a little too long, others beginning to notice.

“Go get him Drake.” He nodded and turned back to Neville. As word of the duel spread though the ballroom, a mysterious woman with red hair and a red dress entered the room, excited for the duel. Emma wasn't sure, but she thought the woman was a Nevrakis. Neither of the men moved though, they stared at each other sneering.

“Are we going to duel or not?”

“To the field.” As they walked out, Emma was right by Drake's side.

“Drake is going to make you wish that you never returned to the palace you pompous ass!”

“Thanks Barnes.” Neville scoffed.

“I'm far more prepared for this than my opponent.” Outside, nobles gathered, whispering with excitement as Emma and her friends crowded around Drake.

“You took a bullet Drake, you can do this.” The first thing Liam had said about the duel all night.

“Guess all the mock duels we had as kids will pay off.” He chuckled nervously. Hana and Maxwell shared words of encouragement with him, even Madeleine came over though she was all about the political angle it would create. He turned to Emma last, she wanted to reach out and kiss him, ask him why he had done it, but she knew. He was finally standing up to all the nobles who thought he would never be good enough, who looked down on commoners.

“Take this, for good luck and be careful.” Emma gave him an extra piece of fabric from her costume, it was the best she could do in front of everyone, but it meant the world to Drake.

“You got it Barnes.”

“Let's begin Mr. Walker!” Neville taunted waving his sword around in a flashy manner. Emma gulped when she saw just how sharp they were. Neville took the first swing, Drake was barely able to deflect. Taking advantage of Drake's offset balance, Neville swung for his head and Drake ducked. Emma latched onto Liam's arm squeezing tight, she hoped Drake would take his own advice about playing dirty because Neville clearly wasn't going to fight with the honor that he claimed to have.

“Do you want to know what I despise most about you commoners.” He said, as if the word itself left a bad taste in his mouth.

“You're going to tell me either way so just get it over with.” Neville struck, and Drake parried.

“That you have no respect for those who are clearly better than you.” He struck again, and Drake barely dodged it.

“I have plenty of respect for those who are better than me, but you'll never be one of them!” Drake lunged, the force sending Neville stumbling back towards the crowd.

“Brute strength, just what I expected from a caveman!” Neville slashed forward with speed catching Drake off guard. He cut through Drake's side, a gash pouring blood out over his coat. Drake gasped.

“Drake!” Emma tried to run forward, but Liam held her back.

“He's hurt, you must stop this duel!” Hana pleaded with anyone who would listen around her.

“Nonsense. Drake needs to lose much more blood before he can stop fighting.” Emma's head was spinning, Drake had gotten hurt again, her mind flashed to the homecoming ball. Neville went after Drake who dove out of the way, scrambling to find his sword.

“Get up Drake.” Emma chanted under her breath.

“There's no excuse for lying around while your head is still attached Walker!” Olivia yelled out. He found his sword before Neville could strike again and they traded parries until Neville saw an opening, yanking Drake's wounded arm into an unnatural position. Drake cried out in pain again, falling to his knees. Neville raised his sword over Drake's head, Emma was afraid she might faint, her knees growing weaker as she clung onto Liam for support like her life depended on it.

“Let this be a lesson to you and that gold digging, commoner whore our king is marrying, you will always end up in your rightful place... in the dirt, kissing my shoes.” Emma was suddenly furious, Neville had just called her a gold digging whore and Liam stood there stoic, watching as his best friend bled at the hands of Neville.

“What do you have to say for yourself now?”

“Get up Drake! Get up!” Emma screeched falling to her knees beside him.

“He doesn't know a single fucking thing about us! Put him in his place! Show him how Americans do it!” Drake locked eyes with Emma, a newfound fury in them. Neville had called the woman he loved a gold digging whore, he was going to pay dearly for that.

“Yeah, I've got something to say. I've got one good arm and you leave Emma out of this!” He stood awkwardly knocking Neville's sword away, sending his fist flying at Neville. It connected with his jaw, sending him sprawling into the dirt. Drake grabbed Neville's sword with his good arm and jabbed the point at his neck, drawing blood before pressing harder, gritting his teeth.

“What are your last words Neville?”

“I yield!” He gasped as Drake eased the sword away just a bit.

“Go apologize to Emma, or I'll draw more blood.” He whispered fiercely for only Neville to hear, but he nodded in understanding before getting up.

“I declare Drake Walker the victor!” Constantine called out and cheers erupted amongst the crowd. Their friends rushed forward to congratulate Drake. Emma threw her arms around his neck, making him stumble backwards and wince.

“Watch the shoulder.” Emma let go carefully, realizing maybe she had been too affectionate again.

“You had me worried Drake.” He got a mischievous gleam in his eyes and winked.

“That was magnifique Drake!” Kiara came over and kissed Drake on the cheek making him blush. Emma suppressed an eyeroll and turned away to find Neville standing there.

“Duchess Emma. I would like to apologize for insulting you. I was out of line and pray that you can forgive me.” Emma was surprised and turned to find Drake staring Neville down.

“Get out of my face before you find out how New Yorkers settle these kinds of matters.”  

“I won't forget this!” Neville turned back to yell before he scrambled away. Emma and Drake's friends continued to congratulate Drake before he was escorted away to get patched up. The crowd filed back inside when the strange woman from earlier approached Olivia. Emma accompanied them inside and they sized each other up, her name was Lucretia, Olivia's aunt. A servant brought them a bottle of Lythikos wine and scrambled away before Lucretia could intimidate him anymore.

“We should toast, our future unconventional Queen.”

“What do you mean unconventional?” Lucretia smiled, but it was cold and calculating, Emma repressed a shiver.

“A commoner by birth, American, the business with that nobleman...Tariq? Quite the scandal, but you've put all those things behind you of course, loyal to your king and fiancé.” Emma forced a smile, Lucretia knew an awful lot about court for not being around, and a little too much about the arrangement. She tried to move on and diffuse some of the obvious tension between Olivia and her aunt, but it only grew as Lucretia revealed she was there to see Liam.

“King Liam was all Olivia ever wrote about after her parents died, she really held a torch for him.” Olivia took a sip of wine to try and hide the color rising to her cheeks. It wasn't much of a secret that Olivia loved Liam, but it was clear Lucretia was trying to get under Olivia's skin.

“So, you've known Liam for quite a while, what was he like as a young boy?”

“He was, how do I put this?”

“A free spirit?” Olivia offered.

“Yes. Though I would call it overly sensitive. He seems to have matured quite a bit now though, standing by and letting Lord Neville say those things, quite the diplomat.” Lucretia mused, Emma clenched her jaw. She needed to talk to him about that, at least Liam's sudden emotional outbursts over the past few weeks now made sense. Emma was lost in her own thoughts about Lucretia's words, wondering how she could know so much, while she and Olivia continued to argue about Liam and her parents.

“Honestly Olivia! It's time to move on! Liam has clearly moved on, it's time to think of your future!” Olivia was taken aback by her aunt's words.

“What future could you possibly be talking about? You showed no interest in my future as a child, so I don't see how it has any relevance now!”

“Your marriage dear. You need to produce a Nevrakis heir. Obviously, you're not going to listen to anything I have to say tonight though so I'll be going. I should mingle with the other guests.” Lucretia swept out of the room and Olivia relaxed for the first time since she appeared.

“Olivia?” Emma was unsure what to say.

“Do you think she's right?”

“Olivia, I… I mean...I.” she held her hand up, stopping Emma right there.

“I can't do this with you, not not tonight. I'll say something I can't take back. Besides, both of them will be falling over themselves by now, trying to find you.” Olivia downed the rest of her wine, disappearing back into the ballroom, Emma not far behind. As she approached her friends, she could hear them praising Drake, giving him endless food and drinks. She wanted to join them but, saw Bertrand hovering at the edge of the room watching Savannah before running off. Emma chased after him, and after offering her help and expertise after learning what finally happened between them, she was able to help Bertrand get a date with Savannah. Maxwell found her shortly after and was chatting animatedly about how happy he was for Bertrand and Savannah when Drake sidled up behind her.

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[mind-reader1]

Queen of Hearts (Ch.4)

Drake x MC (Emma Barnes)

TRR AU: What would happen if Emma loved Drake but had to marry Liam?

Catch up here

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2105

Summary: Someone’s learned Emma and Drake’s secret before the court even knows. What will this mean for them? Liam and Emma make an agreement before their announcement to the press and drunk Drake tries to be romantic. 

Note: NSFW coming next chapter!!!!! 

Chapter 4: Adore You (Miley Cyrus)

I love lying next to you

I could do this for eternity,

You and me were meant to be in holy matrimony

God knew exactly what he was doing

When he lead me to you

When you say you love me

Know I love you more

When you say you need me

Know I need you more

Boy, I adore you,

I adore you

Drake's eyes flew open and he sat up to find Maxwell in the doorway. Emma groggily opened her eyes at Drake's sudden movement.

“Shit.” She saw Maxwell's shocked face and realized they were still in their underwear.

“Maxwell. I need you to listen.” He had turned to run but stopped, his hand hovering over the handle.

“It's not what it looks like.” Maxwell kept his back turned while Emma and Drake got dressed.

“Really? It looks like you're naked in bed with Drake even though you're engaged to Liam.” Emma groaned it was exactly what it looked like.

“There's more to it than that Maxwell. I'll tell you everything if you promise to keep it between us.” Maxwell bit his lip and turned around.

“Liam is my friend Emma, but so are you and Drake.”

“I'm going to go,” Drake said awkwardly, slipping out past Maxwell.

“Take a seat, Maxwell.” Emma sighed before recounting the events of New York.

“I'm so sorry I brought you here Emma. I never meant for this to happen.” Emma let out a small chuckle as she wiped stray tears from her eyes. She grabbed Maxwell's hand and squeezed.

“Don't be Maxwell, you couldn't have known. Besides, you introduced me to the greatest love of my life, for that I'll be forever grateful, but maybe you could get into the habit of knocking rather than barging in?” Maxwell gave a small chuckle and pulled her into a hug.

“We're at the palace now. If I can do anything to make it easier let me know.” With that, he left her alone to collect her things.

As she approached the palace, Liam fell into step beside her.

“We should discuss what we're going to tell the court, the press will be here in an hour for a press conference.” Emma nodded.

“Now that my name is cleared we're happy to announce our engagement.” It wouldn't come as much of a shock to anyone, in fact, it had been the question on everyone's mind once her name had been cleared.

“That's perfect.” There was no enthusiasm in his voice though, he was still hurting.

“Olivia is on to us. She cornered me in my room last night.” Liam nodded.

“We do need to make some effort of looking like a happy couple in public.” Emma winced at his icy tone.

“Liam.” She stopped and grabbed his hands. He looked down at her and she saw just how much he was still hurting.

“You're my friend and I care for you deeply. I can't do this if we only pretend to be happy for the cameras. I cherish our friendship and I don't want to drive a wedge between you and Drake, he's going to need a friend.” Liam gave her an apologetic smile.

“You're right. I'm asking a lot of you and Drake, and if all you ask for in return is my friendship, I can definitely do that.” Emma reached up to cup his cheek.

“Thank you, Liam.”

They got everything inside and barely had enough time before the press were ready for them.

“Welcome back your Majesty, Lady Emma.” they both smiled and waved to the press.

“Thank you. It's good to be back home.”

“I'm going to ask the question that's on everybody's mind. You've broken off your engagement to Lady Madeleine, where do you and Lady Emma stand?” Liam looked at Emma who gave him an imperceptible nod. They knew this moment would happen.

“King Liam and I are engaged.” The press was stunned into silence for a moment, once the shock wore off everyone's cameras were flashing and the questions were coming at them rapidly from all directions. Liam held up his hand and the press immediately stopped.

“In addition per Cordonian law, Lady Emma will be the newest duchess of Valtoria!”

“That's quite an honor and a large responsibility. Do you feel you're ready to take on such a roll?” Emma stepped up to the mic and put on the smile she reserved for the press.

“I know that some may have their doubts, but I love Cordonia, I will honor the people and do what is best for them.”

“Well, we certainly look forward to seeing what you do. Thank you, Lady Emma, your Majesty.” With one last wave to the press, they entered the palace.

They had just finished the press conference when Hana and Drake came around the corner, Maxwell in tow.

“I told you we'd find them here,” Drake said.

“What's going on?”

“We're home in Cordonia. What better way to celebrate than by going to a beer garden!” Maxwell was practically bouncing with excitement.

“Hana has been looking at the menu for the past two hours and still hasn't decided.”

“There's just so much to choose from!” Liam chuckled.

“Well, I have meetings the rest of the day. If you wait until this evening I can accompany you.” Liam said.

“I'm sure we can find something to occupy ourselves for a few hours!” Maxwell bounded off to do God knows what and Hana wandered off, continuing to stare at the menu.

“Guess it's just you and me, Barnes.” Drake took a step closer but kept his distance as the palace was buzzing with staff.

“I guess so,” she took another step towards him.

“Lady Emma!” They jumped apart and looked up to see Constantine approaching.

“I was hoping I could borrow some of your time.” Emma gave Drake an apologetic look.

“Of course, King Father.” She followed him to a dining room of the palace where Queen Mother Regina was waiting. He apologized for the scheme against her and discussed her duties as the newest duchess of Cordonia. It was awkward, to say the least, but a necessary evil.

By the time the meeting was over, her friends were ready to go to the beer garden. They all laughed and drank, it felt like old times, they were able to forget their troubles. Everyone was dancing on tables, Emma even got Drake to dance with her. It was a rare sight but Emma had never had so much fun in her life. It was late when they returned to the palace, Emma didn't have too much to drink but Drake clearly had.

“Psst, Barnes.” Drake stumbled up to Emma as they walked in. Emma couldn't help but smile, he was trying to whisper but failed completely.

“How about I give you a tour of the palace?”

“I've seen it, Drake. We all live here.”

“No, no. A secret tour.” Emma stifled a laugh.

“What does a secret tour entail exactly?”

“I can't tell you because then it wouldn't be a secret.” Emma playfully rolled her eyes, it felt good to have fun after everything that had happened in New York.

“Okay, Drake. I'll go on this secret palace tour with you.” He grinned and laced his fingers with hers.

“Follow me.” Everyone went to their rooms while Emma and Drake snuck off to the Grand Ballroom. Drake pointed out a small difference in the molding then revealed a childhood story. As Drake recalled the story Emma could see it so clearly, baby Drake getting competitive with his friend. He tried to lean against the wall but misjudged and began falling, he caught himself and tried to play it off but he looked ridiculous. Emma smiled shaking her head, she would have so much fun giving him shit for this later.

“This way.” He slipped out into the hall and Emma followed confused when he stopped halfway.

“It's a hallway.”

“That's not what I wanted to show you. Look!” Drake dragged her to the window and pointed out. It was a view of the palace wall, not even a pretty fountain, it was literally just a wall.

“This is the best, best view in the palace.”

Emma suppressed a giggle and nodded.

“It really is something Drake.”

“It's just so beautiful and it reminds me of you because Emma...uh Barnes, you're beautiful.”

“I like drunk Drake, your inner poet comes out.”

“I'm not drunk, Barnes. You're just blurry.” Emma rolled her eyes.

“Thank you for taking me to this romantic spot Drake, I'm glad it makes you think of me.”

“I've wanted to show you this since I realized I had feelings for you, Barnes.”

“You're pretty sweet when you want to be Drake.”

“I'm glad you think so.” Suddenly Drake frowned.

“Wait. Shit. This wasn't the right window. It's this one.” Drake grabbed Emma's hand and tugged her down to a different window that had an equally boring view.

“Not to sound ungrateful, but was this the secret? I didn't think windows could be a secret.” Drake frowned shaking his head.

“No...no. There's more.” he looked around and then his eyes lit up, it was like a lightbulb had gone off in his brain.

“Over here.” He stopped outside of a door.

“This is Kiara's room.”

“Why do you know where Kiara's room is? Why are we here in the middle of the night?” A hint of jealousy crept into Emma's voice. Drake grinned.

“You're cute when you're jealous.” he tapped her nose.

“We're not here to talk to Kiara though, we're here to prank her.” Emma's jealousy melted away into amusement.

“This is a whole other side of you. Drunk Drake needs to make an appearance more often.”

“C’mon, Barnes.” Drake snuck into her room and then stood there.

“Okay, what's the plan here?” Drake shrugged.

“You brought me here without a plan?”

“I didn't plan this far ahead. What should we do?” Emma whispered into Drake's ear and a grin broke out on his face.

“That's a great idea, Barnes!” They got to work flipping over every piece of furniture they could, a harmless little prank.

“Let's get out of here before we get caught.” They slipped out of the room and moved on with the tour. Drake brought her into a grand library, books in every direction, old frescos painted on the ceiling.

“Wow.” Emma slowly rotated and took in the full beauty of the room. Drake strolled along the shelves, running his hand over the spines. Drake's shoulder bumped a pillar and Emma began to hear a series of clicks and whirs before a panel in the wall swung open.

“This way Barnes.” He led her into an old stone passage.

“Where does this lead to?”

“Nowhere. I used it as my secret hideout as a kid. Whenever I wanted some time to myself I would come here. Nobody knows about it, not even Liam.”

“Why show me then? Why not keep it your little secret?”

“I figured with everything going on, you might want a break. You can come hideout here whenever you want Emma.”

“You called me Emma again.”

“I guess I did,” his eyes lit up again, “that was the secret! Your name. This is cooler though.” He gestured at the passage around them.

“You should still tell me the secret though. You call everyone by their first names but me. Why call me, Barnes?”

Drake sat down, his eyes kind of staring off into space.

“I didn't want to like you, I didn't want to get close to you when you first got here. You're you though, after that, I was trying to hide how I felt about you. It just kind of stuck I guess, now it's our thing. Reserved for you and me. It feels weird calling you Emma.” He chuckled.

“Thank you for telling me, Drake.” He grinned.

“Thank you for coming on the exclusive Drake Walker secret tour, this concludes it.”

“I'd give it two stars,” Drake looked genuinely hurt, “I'm teasing Drake. Five stars. It was perfect.” Drake bowed and lead her out of the passage, making sure to close the door behind them. He escorted her to her room and stopped, swaying slightly.

“Maybe next time I can give you a tour of my room. An exclusive tour.” Drake's eyes widened as the realization of what she meant hit him.

“Why not right now?” He leaned in and Emma could clearly smell the whiskey on his breath.

“You're drunk Drake. You're the one who said you wanted our first time to be special, we should hold off.” She gently put her hands on his chest. Drake sighed.

“You're right. I'll see you tomorrow, Barnes.” He gave her a soft kiss and stumbled away to his own room.

Emma was exhausted as she collapsed onto her familiar bed at the palace. Despite everything that had happened on the train, Emma had a nice end to her night.

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