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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years ago

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Title: Kismet {7}

Henry Cavill x Famous OFC Aliya Taylor

Warning: Plot, Slow Burn, Mild Cursing

Words: 5.1k

Summary: Aliya is a singer turned model turned actress. Since she was fifteen, she’s been creating her empire in the entertainment world. As the daughter of a famous fashion model/designer and Hollywood director, you’d think life is easy for her, but her past has been anything but easy. Due to past trauma, she’s forever changed and no longer trusts any man that is not in her family and a select few in her team. She’s sworn off love and serious relationships and has planned never to fall again, but love isn’t something that can be planned. It just happens when it’s meant to. Can Aliya outrun a love that seems hellbent on holding tight to her, a love that is Kismet?

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***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

-Henry-

He tossed from his right.

“This has been fun. You seem like a really good person on top of being uber-talented. I wish you nothing but continued success in your career and life, but for anything here, I don’t think it’s going to happen,”

He turned to his left.

“I don’t do drama or messy, and your situation screams drama and mess.”

He rolled from his back.

“The bottom line is I’ve broken three rules already when it comes to you, and I will not break this one.”

He flipped to his stomach.

“Goodbye, Henry.”

That was always when he leaped up, sweating, panting, and wide awake. It was always the same time. Two in the morning and he always had the same feelings. Regret. Resentment. Emptiness. He hated those words when put together. Every night for the last two days, it was the same thing. He’d go about his business, work, fulfill his obligations, meet family and friends to catch up, all the while thinking he saw you at the most inopportune times. He remembered the first time he thought he saw you. He was having lunch with his brothers, their wives, girlfriends, and nephews. In the middle of his conversation, from clear across the restaurant, he thought he saw you. The woman didn’t even look a lot like you. The only thing you shared in resemblance was the complexion of your skin and your hair color. He knew then he’d lost his mind and was acting out of character.

Usually, if he were in this situation, he would have already moved on. He never dwelled on situations that didn’t serve a purpose for him. He was straightforward and preferred those he spent his time with to be the same. If a woman didn’t seem interested and went as far as to tell him goodbye at every chance she got, he would fade away. That is what he should do; instead, he continuously thought about you.

He went back and forth in his head about where you were getting your assumptions and why were you so quick to think the worst of him. It was apparent to deduce that you probably had a bad past experience with someone to have become so standoffish. There was no way someone would give off such conflicting vibes if they hadn’t been burned before.

If he didn’t imagine you throughout his day, he was dreaming of you coming up with words he should have or could have said when you were in front of him. When he thought to call you, he always turned against it. What was the point? You’d made your decision and come up with your assumptions on who he was. He wasn’t in the practice of pleading with women to give him a second chance or even a true first one.

By day three, he found himself ignoring his wounded pride and ego. By no means was it easy to do. In truth, it had been years since he’d ever felt this way—rejected. It was humbling. Since the years when his star had officially risen so far in the Hollywood stratosphere, every woman he’d ever either approached or been approached by never rejected him. In no way was he cocky enough to think women couldn’t reject him. He just thought he felt something and that something was mutual.

“Another beer?”

“Uh—no, a glass of water, please.”

“Tap, sparkling, flavored sparkling?”

Scoffing, he shrugged then said the first that that came to mind. “Sparkling lemon is fine. Thank you.”

The waitress nodded and walked back the way she came with his empty beer glass in hand. Today was necessary. It was long overdue. Glancing at his watch, he noted it was ten minutes past when he suggested the meetup. He also noted that he was annoyed with this lateness but not with yours. Groaning, he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to rub out the tension that rested there.

“Hey, honey.”

Snapping his eyes open, he saw Abby’s cheerfully smiling face. Her blonde hair was styled with bouncy curls that framed her blue-eyed face. She leaned closer as if she intended to kiss him, tilting his face to the side, her lips landed on his cheek.

“Oh,” Abby said, voice filled with disappointment.

“Sit, join me,” he said, hoping to distract from the slight he’d just shown her.

Abby sat on the stool across from him after placing her purse to hand on the side of it. When she leaned forward, his eyes dropped to her top's cleavage before they instantly came right back up to her face.

“How are you, babe?”

“Good.

“I missed you so much. You have no idea. There were so many things I wanted to tell you,” Abby began before he could start the conversation.

He listened and nodded along as she went on and on about the things that were going on in her life. She talked for so long that he was able to drink the entire glass of water the waitress brought over. When the waitress came back to take their orders, he had to step in.

“Uh, can you give us a few moments?”

“Sure.”

Abby’s eyebrows knitted, showing her confusion.

“I wanted to talk, Abby.”

“About what, Henners?”

Taking a deep breath, he slowly released it. “A while ago, we talked, and I thought it was clear where my head was when I said we need space and to distance ourselves from each other. I thought we both understood what that meant, but—I can see I wasn’t clear.”

He could see the worry in her eyes, and he hated to do this, but it had to be done. “I think you should move on…we both should. I didn’t mean to give the impression that there was hope for reconciliation or even that this would turn into a fling of some sort. I’m sorry for not being clear. However, I think I have to be crystal now. You have to stop calling and texting and allow yourself to move on.”

She didn’t speak for a full two minutes.

“Really?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I just--.”

“—No, no, I get it. I really do. I--,” Abby stuttered without making any eye contact. She stood, reached for her purse, and schlepped it onto her shoulder.

“Abby, I’m--,” He began begore she cut him off.

“Don’t worry about it. You were clear before I just thought—guess I hoped if I showed you I was serious and willing to try that you’d come back.”

He felt like a world-class wanker. As he opened his mouth to say something, Abby held her hand up, smirked, and turned to walk out of the restaurant. Sighing, he made eye contact with the waitress and raised his hand for the check. One down, one more to go. By the time dinner rolled around, his FaceTime call with Francesca went a lot better. Though he could tell her defiance and reluctance to accept his wishes, she eventually did, eventually being the operative word. It took nearly twenty minutes.

As he sat with his glass of red wine and his pasta dinner with Kal at his feet with his bowl filled with his gourmet feast and a new bone for dessert, he noted everything was quiet. His home was silent, and his thoughts were even more so. It dawned on him then. This was the first time in three years he was absolutely free with no attachments to anyone. It was something that made him pause. His life was a busy one, and he’d seen the inside of a movie trailer more than he’d seen the inside of his own home. With him traveling so much, dating was hard and more a nuisance.

That was how Abby and Francesca came into the picture. He’d dated Francesca on and off for years before she ended things believing he didn’t want anything stable only to come back into the picture. Abby was a one-night thing that kept happening whenever he was home. Both required so little besides some attention here or there. It was probably what he gravitated to. It was low stress and a low chance of any emotional entanglement that he didn’t want--until he met you.

After dinner and a quick walk for Kal, he found himself in for the night with one thing on his mind. You.

“Bollocks! Just call her. Call her. It’s no big deal,” he said, trying to hype himself up.

Feeling brave, he quickly grabbed his phone and tapped your number in his contacts. By the time the first ring began, he’d changed his mind and promptly ended the call.

“You’re an idiot, mate!”

He knew he was in for another sleepless night.

~~~~~~~~~~

-Aliya-

Chewing your bottom lip, you stared at his name on your phone. It could have been seen as a little bit of divine intervention. For the last week, you’d gone back and forth, up and down, and around your decision to walk away from him and end things. Part of you knew it was the right thing to do. He was clearly tangled up in some sort of drama, some sort of playboy lifestyle that you didn’t want any part of. There were even times you felt like a hypocrite. You were dating two men at once. Yes, they both knew about each other, but still, it was technically the same thing. Your life was drama free because you worked hard to keep it that way, and that included exchanges between Jesse and Liam.

In the beginning, six months ago, you’d made it crystal clear to both of them that you didn’t want any serious commitments. You told them that your career, businesses, and workload kept you plenty busy and gave you enough headaches, and you expected none from them. You set out the rules; they followed them and kept the drama to themselves. Did they like each other? Maybe not. Did they like the idea of sharing you? Maybe not. Did you care? Eh, not really. You mainly entertained them when you had some free time and wanted to de-stress. As said before, you liked drama free.

“Why’re you staring so hard at your phone?”

Jumping, you tried to hide it, but you weren’t quick enough. Amaya was the one to grab it from you to see Henry’s name. The sound she made said she disapproved.

“Still can’t believe you did that man like that.”

Kissing your teeth, you snatched your device back and sat on one of the stools around the kitchen island.

“What else was I supposed to do? Join the equation and become part of a square?

“The only fun shapes are triangles because they equal threesomes,” Amaya began, making you and Alicia stare at her as if she’d lost her mind. “However, squares can be fun.”

“You’ve lost your mind. In no situation is three women duking it out for one man fun. A quick departure was the only move,” you defended.

“Honestly if, and I say if with hella contingencies, if, if, if he were actually sleeping with two other women, then yes, you did the right thing. There is no sharing unless it’s with another man for my attention,” Amaya announced.

“The problem is, though, we don’t know if he was sleeping with these women. You made an assumption, didn’t really allow him to explain,” Alicia countered.

“What! He had the entire discussion on the corner.”

“After you’d accused him of being a cheat and fuckboi? After you’d probably offended him by taking strikes on his character? There are plenty of things that are different between Americans and Brits. What was you asserting your position could be disrespect to them,” Alicia, the voice of reason, theorized.

You knew she was right on some level. You’d spent enough time in England to know the etiquette and social differences. From his cold demeanor, before you walked away, you knew you’d either injured his pride or pissed him off. Hell, both were very possible.

“Look, I’m not saying don’t stand up for yourself with letting someone know what you will or won’t accept. I’m saying maybe there was a better way. Maybe one that didn’t leave you second-guessing yourself and thinking about him.”

You hated when she saw right through you, hated when she was right, and hated even more when she called you out rather than letting you rock. Groaning, you shut your phone off and placed it face down, deciding to do what you did best—ignore everything.

You’d thought about him a lot over the last week, and within the last week, you’d come across more Henry Cavill content than you had in the entire year. There were InStyle interviews, promos, magazine articles, Instagram posts that were now on your feed because of one time you tapped on a picture to get a closer look. There were even YouTube videos of him reading thirsty tweets. Lord have mercy. He was everywhere, and the more you saw of him, the more you thought of him.

One thing you didn’t see regarding him were any tabloid pictures of him out and out with any woman. He was always pictured with family, his dog, friends, or by himself. That tidbit had you wondering if you’d been wrong about things. You hated second-guessing; it always left you in this weird hyper anxious state. You usually got a lot done when you were like this, but it left you exhausted.

“Have you thought of your two boyfriends as much as you’ve thought about this never was one?”

Why was she like this? She’d always been this way. She held nothing back, but where Alicia was the same, they differed in that Alicia had a way of being blunt but also being gentle. Amaya didn’t give a shit. She said what she meant with no care if the recipient felt offended.

“I’m gonna take your silence as a no. when was the last time you’ve actually spent any time with them? Bored?”

“I’m hungry, let’s eat,” you said, walking out of the kitchen making your way to the home cinema room. You knew how to flip a subject if you no longer wanted to talk about it.

The two of them followed behind you, then dropped into one of the large relaxing couches. Knowing you didn’t want to talk about it anymore, the two focused on figuring out a movie for tonight’s movie cinema. It had been weeks since the three of you had been able to do this, and it was long overdue.

Once you’d found something, the rest of the night was spent laughing, gossiping, being extra, eating and drinking while watching movie after movie. Thankfully the conversation remained off of you and on the two of them. Alicia spoke about her recent date while Amaya let you in on the status of her latest situationship. While the focus didn’t return to you and yours, your mind was sure focused on one thing. Henry.

Two days later, while you were locked in your office trying to make something of the mess of work before you, you got a notification from Instagram. Deciding you needed a break, you opened up the app and scrolled through your feed. After a minute or so, you came across a post on some gossip site. It was a picture of Henry’s smiling face with a caption that read, “Happy Birthday to Henry Cavill. This hunk of a man is celebrating a birthday today across the pond, and many women wish they could ring it in with him. From your fans on this side of the pond, Happy birthday!”

Your jaw dropped. It was Henry’s birthday.

“Is it really?”

That began a dive into the internet, which led you to the first site, IMDB. Sure enough, according to his fans, it was his birthday, May fifth.

“Wow.” Jumping back to Instagram, you typed his name in for a tag search and scrolled through the plethora of birthday wishes and fan page tributes. It was plain as day to see that his fans sure loved them some Henry Cavill. It was cute. After almost twenty minutes of scrolling, you began to debate if you should send him a birthday message. You wondered if it was appropriate.

“Is it appropriate to send a birthday wish to a man that wasn’t really yours to begin with but knew what your mouth tasted like?”

Closing your eyes for a few moments, you decided it wasn’t.

“Not appropriate, especially considering you were the one to end things. However, there was really nothing to end. We were never a we.”

Sitting in silence for another few minutes, you rolled your eyes.

“It is rude, though, if I don’t send something,” you finalized, admonishing the British etiquette coursing through your blood.

You dropped your head to the desk and groaned. This was ridiculous, you thought. It shouldn’t be this complicated.

“You’re making it complicated, dummy. Just send the message.”

Taking a few moments to gather your thoughts, you sat up again as if nothing had happened for the last fifteen minutes of indecisiveness and began your text. You typed a few beginnings and deleted them. You didn’t know how to begin. Did you just jump in and ignore the massive elephant in the room? Did you address the elephant but get right to the birthday wish? Your etiquette training said to address the elephant but in a ladylike manner then proceed to the birthday wish. That’s what you should have done. Your real-world girl living said to ignore that elephant and get right to it, then bury your head and see how he takes it.

MSG: It’s your birthday, well, according to IMDB and all your Cavillry fans. Did you know your fans call themselves the Cavillry? That’s pretty insane and hilarious. Anyway, I wanted to wish you a happy birthday. I know you never told me when it was but the wonders of the internet. Yes, I might have googled you. Anyway, I hope your birthday is filled with laughter, fun, happiness, and wonder because you just might deserve all three. Be safe and live like it’s your last.

Yeah, you ignored the fuck out of that elephant and took it to a whole other level. Full-on avoidance. As you looked over the message, you chewed your bottom lip, a nervous tick you never got rid of. When three or four minutes passed by with no response, your anxiousness picked up. That was when you slid it away and got back to work, determined not to obsesses over it.

~~~~~~~

-Henry-

Shocked could have summed up what he felt when he saw your message. Shocked and stunned silent. It happened at the weirdest time too. He was in the middle of a get together with his family for his birthday. With his Guinness in hand, he just happened to glance at his phone as he was going to snap a picture of something funny Simon was doing.

“What’s the matter with you?”

Shaking his head, he spun around to face Piers on his right. “Nothing. I’m good,” he lied.

“No, you’re not,” Simon said, coming up on his left to sit at the table. “Which one is it, Francesca or Abby?”

He rolled his eyes at Simon, not finding any humor in his words. His brothers laughed at him because they all knew the story there.

“You have the worst taste in women,” Nik began slapping him hard on his shoulder. “You either choose the ones who have ulterior motives hence Abby, or the ones who want different things than you, Francesca,” he finished.

“At least the women I get are beautiful,” he compensated quite pathetically. It was a horrible comeback, but it was all he had. He hated not having some sort of comeback when his brothers ganged up on him. It took him back to being a child.

“Francesca was beautiful, Abby—was adorable a little immature though,” Piers added with a shrug to the end.

He couldn’t deny that. “She was,” he said with a nod. “Very jealous too.”

“So, who was the message from?”

“No one.”

It was a blatant lie.

“Oh, it’s someone all right,” Piers called out.

He groaned, knowing they wouldn't let it go until he’d told them. Sighing, he gulped his beer before he began.

“Remember the woman I told you about?”

The three of them looked confused as if he'd never mentioned you before.

“The one who had your phone?”

“Yes. Turns out, she saw the messages for and from Abby and Francesca.”

They all looked confused again. “So what?”

Simon shook his head before he spoke. “He’s interested in her.”

“Who is this woman, anyway?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied to Nik’s curiosity. He wanted to keep some privacy, especially now that you’d decided he was some male gigolo.

“We went out on three dates. The second date goes well--.”

“—How well?”

He couldn’t help but smile at Simon’s inquiry. His memory was still fresh from what he was classifying as the best second date he’d ever had. When his chuckle broke through, his brothers’ interest piqued.

“Really well, I see,” Nik professed.

“Not like that. It was just a kiss, or three kisses, three incredible kisses. Anyway, she ignores me for a few days; then I see her in New York about a week ago. We had dinner with her friends, then breakfast the next day. Everything seemed fine, after she tells me that nothing is going to happen between us.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. She said she saw the messages, and she doesn’t do drama or messy, and she thinks I’m juggling two women, and she has rules she’s broken and won’t break the drama rule,” he informed. As he said the words, his annoyance rose again.

“Woah. A lot going on there,” Simon began before he gulped his beer.

“What rules?”

“I don’t know. She said she wished me success in the future, but we were done,” he finished.

“To be fair, you are juggling two women. You and Francesca have this weird relationship where she wants more from you, but you’re not willing to give it to her, so she tries to see if it’s enough, and it’s not. That’s the back and forth,” Piers summed up. He finished his beer then continued. “With Abby, I don’t know your problem. You know you need to end it, but maybe the shag is too good.”

“Hey!”

Their laughter rang out again.

“Honestly, my world gets lonely, and it’s nice to have someone that wants you around instead of being all work,” he divulged.

“Even if you don’t feel anything for that someone?”

Simon hit the nail right on the head. Sighing, he shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I cut ties with them both.”

“Whatever,” Nik scoffed.

“I’m serious. It was last week. It was like breaking up with them all over again.” He shuddered, thinking back to the experience.

“So, they’re gone?”

“Gone and done,” he confirmed.

“And things with this woman?”

“I don’t know what to do. She doesn’t seem that interested. It seems as if she’s being friendly, but that’s it.”

“Did she kiss you back?”

Nodding to Piers, he replied. “She did.”

“Does she give you eye contact, or do you catch her watching you sometimes?”

It was an odd question, but he briefly thought it over before he answered Simon's inquiry.

“Yes.”

“She’s into you,” Piers, Simon, and Nik said in unison.

“Then why brush me off? She just seems—unattainable.”

“Be careful with those types of women,” Nik warned.

“I’ve heard nothing for a little over a week, and now she sends me this message.”

“Read it.”

Opening the message back up, he read your text to his curious brothers. As he read, he glanced at each of their faces trying to gauge what they were thinking. They each looked to be thinking different things, though. Once he finished, he looked at all of them.

“That was nice of her,” Simon expressed.

“Sounds like she’s being friendly,” Piers added.

“That’s good and well. What do I say?”

“Nothing.”

“No. Thanks,” Piers suggested conflicting with Nik’s advice.

“Thanks? That’s it?”

“That’s it. Guarantee it’ll drive her crazy.”

He looked between them again, and seeing them nodding together; he decided what the hell.

MSG Henry: Thanks.

“Good. Now forget her, and let’s get out of here to enjoy your birthday!”

Five minutes later, they were on their way to one of the city's exclusive gentlemen's clubs. While this establishment wasn’t a traditional strip club, there were women in cages and frames throughout the club. It was a popular location among Londoners and one he’d been to once or twice already.

Once they walked into the club through the VIP entrance, they were led to one of the private sections for celebrities. After almost ten minutes inside, he noticed the eyes on him, but he did his best to ignore it. It was his birthday, after all, and he intended to enjoy it to the fullest.

Fifteen minutes later, he’d had two more beers and was now surrounded by a few women who eagerly tried to gain his favor. They each talked about something different, making it difficult to focus on anyone. When one of the women pulled him up to dance, the other sandwiched him making him the prime meat between them all. When his brothers glanced over, they all released an uproar of cheers. It was absolute lunacy, and the longer he remained there, the crazier things became. Though he partied and enjoyed the night, you weren’t far from his mind.

By the time they staggered out of the club, the paps were there to catch the women's desperateness as they exited the club. Though they tried, he got into the taxi with only his brothers as his company. He wasn’t the kind of man to have a string of one night affairs. It was too reckless for him.

~~~~~~~~~

-Aliya-

Thanks. That’s what he chose to reply with thirty minutes from when I sent the message. Thanks. Not thank you, but thanks. Not I appreciate you taking the time. Thanks. Not you’re so sweet to think of me. Just thanks. It boiled your blood. You were confused by, annoyed with, and dissatisfied with the message. Couldn’t he have mustered up another reply? Anything. You tried to have work be enough, but you gave up an hour after receiving the message. Instead, you relieved your annoyance in the kitchen. When you were angry, you always had to chop things. You had no intention of cooking. You just wanted to chop.

Thanks to the near hour of your obsessing, you had Ziploc bags of diced onions, peppers, tomatoes, cucumbers, zucchinis, and carrots. You doubted you’d be able to go through it within the week, but that wasn’t the point. By the time one in the morning rolled around, you were still anxious and annoyed. You couldn’t believe this. You hadn’t had a reaction like this to someone in a long time—if ever.

That was when your phone rang. Grabbing it off of the nightstand, you saw Henry’s name illuminate the screen. Your nerves shot up like a rocket, and no matter how many deep breaths you took, they remained sky-high. After a few rings, you answered.

“Hello?”

A sigh echoed on the other end before Henry spoke. “I honestly didn’t think you were going to answer. I was hoping to leave a message.”

“Well, I answered. What message were you going to leave?”

The deepness of his voice sounded deeper from what you remembered, and it had goosebumps prickling your skin.

“One so you’d realize what you’re missing,” Henry replied. Your eyes bugged.

Did he really just say that? Your mouth gaped open as you wondered incredulously while sitting up in your bed to rest against the cushioned headboard.

“It’s dawned on me that you must think you’re not missing anything when it comes to me. So let me assure you you’re missing out on plenty.”

Pinching your lips, you tried to stifle your snicker. “Oh, really?”

“Really,” Henry confidently confirmed. The way he said it had your back straightening and any amusement quickly fading. The tone of his voice spoke to you, making your belly flutter.

“Like what?” It was barely above a whisper.

“You’re missing out on my kindness, my sensitivity. You’re missing out on flowers just because, surprise handwritten notes just to show I care. You’re missing out on romance women only dream about. You’re missing out on all the captivating intellectual conversations we could have about the stars, Rome, Greece, Egypt, and why we’re all descendants of black kings and queens. You’re missing out on someone being there for you unconditionally because they want to be because fate has led them to you. You’re missing out on lazy days of playing video games, eating pizza and drinking beer, missing out on a man who doesn’t care if you’re in sweatpants and messy hair, or all dolled up in makeup and heels. You’re missing out on me, my passion, my strength, my heart. You’re missing out on the chance never to cry again, missing out on the chance to feel more complete than you have ever felt in your life. You’re missing out on being able to stare in my eyes whenever you want, missing out on these hands to hold you, these lips to kiss you—missing out on us.”

If a gentle breeze somehow blew through your house right now, you’d be knocked off your bed. You were hanging on that little. You were so rattled you were speechless and actually physically shaking. The conviction and raw emotion in his voice was something that shook you to your core and left you raw, wanting, and on the verge of tears. The pounding of your heart was so loud that it was all you could here for a few moments. Trying to use your breathing to slow it you realized it was impossible.

“Are you—drunk?”

“I’ve had a lot to drink, yes, but I’ve never been more clear-headed in my life. You're not only missing out, but you’re also making me miss out on all of that as well. Goodbye, Aliya.”

Your phone beeped, signaling the end of the call. You sat there speechless, motionless, rattled to the bone, and completely wrecked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#kismet fic #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x black reader #angst fanfic #black fanfiction #slow burn fanfic

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 4 years ago

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The Wait

Warnings: This chapter deals with pregnancy! I’ve CW’d them for that in the tags!! If you need me to add any additional tags, please let me know. I’m not a doctor and have never been pregnant. Just, you know. Disclaimer.

Summary: Thing is, you think you’re able to keep it quiet from the guys for a while.

You don’t tell the guys the good news at first. Thing is, because you don’t tell them, they notice some stuff about you. Stuff like the fact that you’re getting up to pee… More often than usual. You just pass it off as drinking a lot of water - hydrating way more, it’s been a goal of yours, anyway. They let that go.

But then there is also that time Connors gets a tuna fish sub with extra mustard and relish and you nearly throw up in the middle of the bullpen. You manage to make it to the bathroom before getting sick. Borracho meets you in the hall with a bottle of water, a pack of gum and a kiss on the forehead. You take a walk around the block to get the smell out of your nose. When you get back to the office, all of the windows are wide open. You know it’s Borracho’s doing, but the guys are all ribbing Connors for bringing in the smelliest sandwich imaginable. With this distraction you manage to meet Borracho’s eye and mouth, I love you, without anyone noticing. --

The two of you have some stuff to figure out - moving into a new place is your first priority. Your current apartment just doesn’t have enough room for a baby. The two of you have been looking at a few places, have gone to a couple of open houses, but nothing has seemed like a good fit. Borracho, unsurprisingly, wants to move somewhere closer to his family. You do see the appeal - more people in close range to help with the baby. And you do love the Magalons. But you also… Kinda like having your space. And maybe that’s a little selfish of you, especially considering how much you know they’re going to offer to help you two with the baby. After your first prenatal doctor appointment, the two of you go looking at a few places. The two of you have mostly been looking at two-bedroom apartments. You see one or two that you kind of like, but the two of you agree that what you saw was not what you were looking for. You stop to grab a bite to eat - you’re getting sleepy (you’re so tired these days, but Nadia tells you that that’s normal - so does Megan… And Isobel… And Regina, and your mother), and Borracho didn’t eat before the two of you left the apartment that morning. The two of you cuddle up on the same side of a booth at a diner, and you don’t even care that you look like the kind of couple that you used to make fun of. You’re too comfortable, tucked into Borracho’s side. You’re half-asleep (“Resting my eyes, I swear,” You mumble when he accuses you of being completely asleep), and he’s scrolling through more apartment listings on his phone while you wait for your food. “Food’s here, sweetness,” He murmurs, and you vaguely register the light thunk of plates being set on the table. “You want another cup of coffee?” The waitress asks, “You look like you could use it.” And she’s right, you’d love one, but you need to start cutting back on the caffeine, so you give her a smile and ask for more water instead. “Our baby better appreciate my caffeine withdrawals,” You sigh, scrubbing at your eyes. Borracho chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “They will. Hey-- Gabriel sent me a listing. You up for checking out one more when we’re done here?” You consider it for a moment as you pick up your spoon and push your oatmeal around to help it cool a bit. If Gabriel sent it, it’ll probably be quite close to the Magalons. And frankly, right now what you really want to do is go home and curl up on the couch. But you might feel better after you’ve got some food in you. So you nod. “I could go for one more.” -- It’s a condo, not an apartment. It’s got plenty of light; the bedrooms are right across the hall from one another; there’s only one bathroom, but you think you could live with that; the kitchen is much more open than the kitchen you have now. It’s a twenty minute drive to the nearest Magalon home; they’re not right on top of you and you don’t feel underfoot. “What do you think?” Borracho asks as the two of you leave. “... I really love it, but I didn’t wanna say it while we were in there. What do you think?” “I think… We should look at the listing online again and then maybe go to the bank. See what we can do about a loan.” You grin. “I would so be doing a little excited jump but I feel like if I jump right one, I am going to throw up.” “I’ve got the gum.”

-- Thing is, you think you’re able to keep it quiet from the guys for a while. You don’t intend to at first, really, you don’t, but they do catch on to some things - like the fact that you’re not drinking when the group of you go out for drinks after work. You just pass it off as being the designated driver for the two of you, and the guys rib Borracho, telling him to let you have some fun once in a while. You’re able to hide the slowly growing bump under your jackets and shirts and dresses. Nick officially finds out first - you schedule a meeting with him to discuss maternity leave during your fourth month. He has a straight face for a few moments before he nods and congratulates you. “Thanks,” You smile, “Who won the bet?” “Connors.” “Motherfucker, every time.” The guys won’t tell you how much the bet was for, though - they won’t even tell Borracho, which is new, and weird. But the two of you shrug it off, and the guys insist on taking the two of you out that night, and make a show of buying you rounds of seltzer.

-- “Do you want to know the sex?” You turn away from the ultrasound to look at Borracho. The two of you have been asking each other that all week. “We’ll get a bunch of yellow stuff if we don’t,” You’d pointed out, “Do we want a bunch of yellow baby stuff? Or people will buy a ton of stuff one color or the other and then be like, ‘well gosh, now you can’t use it’ if it’s the other sex-- Even though we’ll use it anyway-- Am I overthinking this?” You’d asked, looking up at him from where you were cuddled back against his chest on the couch in your new condo. He’d looked down at you, brows raised. “You are, but it’s hilarious, so, please, keep going.”

“Do you wanna know?” You ask him now, because if there’s a time to stop the technician from telling you, it’s this moment. And Borracho glances from the ultrasound to you before he shakes his head a little. “Do you?” He asks. You smile and shake your head. “We’ll wait,” You say, turning to look at the technician again.

“I love this green!” Nadia’s squealed declaration is ear-piercing, but you’re glad she approves of it. You laugh a little, watching her look around the room. You and Borracho painted the room a couple of days ago. The two of you had settled on a sage green color - not too in-your-face, but something that would be warm and welcoming. Borracho and Gabriel are out getting some of the furniture for the nursery now - the bassinet, the rocking chair, the combination changing table-dresser. Nadia’s dropped her kids off with Isobel to come over and help you guys start building some of the furniture. “You’re getting a rug?” “A small area one, yeah. Grey,” You nod. “How’s everything been?” Nadia asks, watching you lower yourself to lean against the windowsill. “Oh, it’s been…” Nadia gives you a knowing look, cutting off the, ‘being pregnant is great’ spiel you usually give the guys at work when they ask (because as sweet as it is for them to ask, they don’t really want to know). You sigh. “I’m constipated and my boobs are getting bigger.” Nadia nods, reaching out and patting your cheek. “Welcome to the club, honey.”

“Stop scratching.” “I’m not scratching.” “I saw you scratching, sweetness,” Borracho chuckles, “I’ll get the salve, get on the bed.” You don’t bicker with him. He’s been a saint - giving you a hand up to stretch when you have leg cramps, helping around the apartment more when you’re tired - and rubbing salve when your stretching belly is itchy. You lean back on the bed and pull your sleep shirt up. You sigh, giving your growing baby bump a rub. “Not scratching, huh?” Borracho teases, sitting on the edge of the bed beside you, “I see irritation.” “It’s itchy,” You whine. Borracho lets out a sympathetic hum before he leans down, pressing a kiss to your belly. You smile, watching him sit up and open the jar of salve. His sisters all swore by it - and they’d been right. It smells good, helps soothe the itch, and is a life saver. Borracho scoops out a small amount and begins to rub it in. You sigh, resting your head back against the pillows. “We still have to narrow down names,” You remind him. He hums, nodding, and you reach out to the notepad you keep on the bedside table. “Don’t drop that on your face again,” He teases as he reaches into the jar again. “You made me laugh last time, so that’s still your fault,” You argue, but you’re giggling. You flip it open, finding your list. “Mmm… Start with boy names?” You offer. “Sure, sweetness,” Borracho murmurs. “So we’ve got… Liam… Santiago… Xavier… and Giovanni.” “I don’t like Giovanni,” Borracho says, “I don't like the nickname ‘Gio’.” “Well someone’s name doesn’t necessarily dictate their nickname, Borracho,” You tease, “But I’m fine to take that one off of the list… I don’t think I like Liam so much anymore.” “Really?” “Mm. Liam Magalon. They kinda run together. LiammmMagalon.” Borracho chuckles, closing the jar of solve. “Liam’s out, then.” You reach out to the bedside table and grab the pen, crossing off Liam and Giovanni as Borracho stands up to put away the salve. “So that leaves us with...Santiago or Xavier.” “What about girls?” You turn the page. “Mmmm… Malia… Faye… and Xiomara.” “I like Malia,” Borracho flops onto the bed beside you. “Yeah?” You raise a brow, looking over at him. He nods a little. “Malia Magalon… Lia for short. Be cute.” “It would be cute,” You smile. Borracho watches you for a moment before he leans up, kissing you gently. You lower the notepad and cup his cheek, humming quietly. “Agreed, then?” He murmurs. You nod. “Malia if it’s a girl,” You murmur. “If it’s a boy?” He asks against your lips. “We’ll figure that out later,” You drop the notepad on the bedside table, reaching out to catch hold of his shirt with your other hand.

You have two baby showers. You expect one, but not the other. They’re both sort of surprises in their own way.

The first one is more traditional. It’s at Regina’s house - your friends, Borracho’s sisters, and your family are there. Borracho knows before you do that it’ll be happening. If you’re honest, you kind of suspect it. He’s on his phone all morning - you see his mom’s name, his sister’s names popping up. You don’t look too closely at the messages, but you’re suspicious when he mentions swinging by his mom’s to pick up a couple of things and asks you to tag along. He knows that the jig is up when you come out of the bedroom in a photo-ready outfit. “... Was I obvious?” He asks. “No, babe. I just know how Magalons do surprises now,” You tease, before pecking his lips, “Let’s go.” --

The second one you do not expect at all.

Nick asks you to drop a file to someone on another floor.

There’s a moment where you think, ‘Can you ask someone that isn’t seven months pregnant?’, but you take it and go. The elevator takes a stupidly long time both ways. By the time you make it back, your desk has been decorated, the guys are all standing around it, and there’s a banner hanging from the fluorescent lights that says, ‘Surprise!’

Tears fill your eyes and you cover your mouth with one hand and wave at your eyes with the other.

“She’s crying! Pay up!” Nick yells.

Borracho runs his hand over his face before directing his gaze at the ceiling.

Once you’ve calmed down, you sit at your desk and the guys give you a few gifts for the baby. Henderson passes out cupcakes (you eat yours and Borracho’s).

“You guys find out if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“Nope. We’re flyin’ blind,” Borracho says, rubbing his hand between your shoulder blades.

“How much money is riding on it being a boy?” You ask, peeling the wrapper off of the second cupcake. The guys look between each other and you tip your head to the side.

“C’mon, if you tell me you’re not betting on it, I am so calling bullshit. Do you know?” You turn to Borracho, but he shakes his head, “Not a clue, sweetness.”

“We’re gonna let it be a surprise. You’ll see,” Nick waves it off.

“Settle down, tiny,” You grumble, looking down at your stomach, “You’ve gotta let mama sleep.”

“Kicking again?” Borracho asks.

“We’re having a soccer player,” You tell him as he comes over to the bed, “Or a can-can dancer.”

“Maybe they’ll do both, why are you trying to limit our baby?” Borracho teases you. You chuckle.

“Maybe they will-- Or maybe they hated that idea,” You wince at a particularly hard kick.

Borracho lays down on his stomach beside you and leans closer to your belly.

“No more kicking your mama, little one,” He murmurs, “We talked about this.”

You raise a brow, peering down at him from where you propped up on a small mountain of pillows.

“Did you?” You ask. He hums, nodding and rubbing a hand over your belly.

“When exactly did you have this talk?” You add, “I feel like I would’ve remembered this.”

“You were napping at the time, sweetness. This was a dad and baby talk.”

You bite your lip, fighting a wide smile.

“Do you have these talks often?”

“Sometimes.”

You reach out, running your fingers through Borracho’s hair.

“...Are you excited?” You ask. You feel like you haven’t asked since… Well, since you told Borracho that you were pregnant. He nods, looking up at you,

“A little nervous,” He admits, “But… Yeah, I’m excited. Are you?”

“Mhm. Not just because I won’t be getting kicked… from the inside, but… I wanna meet our kid.”

Borracho chuckles and sits up, placing his hands on either side of your head and bracing himself as he leans in for a kiss. You smile, reaching up and cupping his cheeks.

“... Well, thank you for the dad and baby talk. Tiny listened to you,” You glance down at your stomach.

“Mm,” Borracho lowers his head and presses a kiss to your neck, “Anytime, sweetness.”

Borracho’s at work when it happens.

You try not to panic.

You just take a deep breath and pick up your phone and call Nadia and say as calmly as you possibly can that your water broke and you need someone to drive you to the hospital. She doesn’t exactly… Answer, at first? She kinda screams - an excited one, but it doesn’t exactly calm you down.

You call Borracho after Nadia tells you that she’ll drop the kids off with Regina and be right over.

“Hey, sweetness. I just followed up with the witness Nick tracked down--”

“My water broke, Benny.”

“...Is this a drill?”

“I know that class we took recommended drills, but I was so not into that idea, it seemed alarmist.”

“Fuck-- Okay, I can--”

“It’s okay, Nadia’s on her way to get me. Just meet us at the hospital.”

“The bag’s--”

“Next to the door, I know, Benny.”

“Are you okay?”

You let out a shaky little laugh because you’re a little freaked out right now.

“It’s gonna be alright, sweetness,” He adds gently, “You sure you don’t want me to come and get you?”

“It’s alright, Nadia’s closer. I’ll see you at the hospital.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetness.”

“She’s so small.”

“...Can’t tell if that’s you or the drugs talking, sweetness.”

“Shush. I’m just… I am just saying… She’s frickin’ tiny.”

“Babies usually are.”

“Stop ruining this for me.”

Borracho chuckles, pushing your hair back from your forehead and pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting his forehead against yours. The two of you peer down at your sleeping daughter together, quiet for a few moments.

“Malia Rose Magalon,” You murmur. It’s the first time you’ve said her name aloud.

“...Lia’s got a very tiny nose,” Borracho mumbles.

You’re quiet for a moment before you glance up at him.

“Literally what was I just saying about her being small?”

When the guys come by to see you in the hospital, they have a gift bag with them.

“Guys, what even?” You nod to it.

“Well, you know those bets we had on… Whether or not you were pregnant, boy or girl, that kinda thing…” Henderson lists.

“Uh huh,” You nod.

“Here,” Nick sets the bag on the bed. Borracho carefully lifts Malia out of your arms, shushing her as she whines. You reach into the bag, pushing aside the tissue paper.

“We agreed that the pool money could all go to a… Better cause than usual,” Connors rubs at the back of his neck. You pull out a jar that’s filled with cash, labeled, ‘College Fund’.

“Figured we’d get you guys started,” Zapata adds, tucking his hands into his pockets.

There’s a moment of quiet in the room before Nick laughs, “She’s crying, pay up!”

#The Pool #The Wait #Benny Borracho #Benny Borracho Magalon #Benny Borracho x Reader #Benny Borracho Magalon x Reader #Benny Borracho x You #Benny Borracho/You #Benny Borracho/Reader #Benny Borracho Magalon x You #Benny Borracho Magalon/Reader #Benny Borracho Magalon/You #Benny Borracho Imagine #Benny Borracho Magalon Imagine #pregnancy cw #Pregnancy #Pregnant CW

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msjr0119 · 4 years ago

Text

A Proposal

Prologue

The new Crown Prince Liam, is unsure about what his future holds for him. All he knows is that he wants to marry for love and not for a political reason. Riley Brooks an American, a mutual friend becomes the Royal Family’s new Personal Assistant. Maybe his future may hold a few unexpected surprises?

A/N: So this has been in my drafts for months and months. Since January. That seems like a lifetime ago! I’m wanting to post all of my drafts and do my reblogs before going on another hiatus- I’m determined to do this 🤣 all my work and other people’s reblogs are now in the ‘queue’, so I don’t know when they will be posted... I haven’t done a moodboard for this series as of yet, so a gif will do for now 😜

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Liam x Riley, Maxwell x Riley

All characters belong to Pixelberry unless stated otherwise.

Warnings: None that I can think of apart from Constantine being slightly harsh. Call me out if you see any that need mentioning 👍🏼

Tags (as always for an introduction I’ll tag my combined tag list- if you don’t respond asking to be tagged in further chapters I won’t 😊)

@pedudley @kacie-0156 @loveellamae @annekebbphotography @kingliam2019 @burnsoslow @kimmiedoo5 @lodberg @walker7519 @drakewalkerisreal @axwalker @bascmve01 @ladyangel70 @texaskitten30 @yukinagato2012 @indiacater @queenjilian @drakewalker04 @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @rainbowsinthestorm @desireepow-1986 @jared2612 @twinkle-320 @princessleac1 @cordonianroyalty @custaroonie @princess-geek @bebepac @nikkis1983 @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @seriouslybadchoices @furiousherringoperatortoad @shanzay44 @choices97 @gardeningourmet

****

Liam Rys still couldn’t get over the fact that he was now not the spare heir but in fact the heir- the now Crown Prince of Cordonia. Every morning he would wake up, hoping for it to be just his imagination- not reality. Before his mother passed away when he was only a young boy, she had promised him that he could marry for love- now that just seemed like one big lie. The King had arranged an unexpected meeting with his son, Liam had just assumed that it would be regarding his new duties as the Crown Prince. Unlike his older brother, Leo- Liam had always taken his royal duties seriously.

“Liam, my son. It’s good to see you. I’d like to introduce you to some people who will be very close to you prior to your social season.” As much as Liam attempted time use his stoic expression, he could have sworn that his eyes rolled back and that it would be noticed.

“And finally this is Miss Brooks, she will be on hand for anything that you need.”

“Nice to meet your acquaintance.... Miss... erm....” Feeling hypnotised by the strangers presence, he could easily recall her name- but had hoped that she would give away her first name. Or maybe a hint at the least.

“Miss Brooks, your highness.” Riley reiterated after curtsying infront of the monarch as well as the future monarch.

“Miss Brooks is from New York City originally, I’m sure she will be an asset to us all even though she is below our standard.” Constantine explained with no empathy for his harsh words. Riley grit her teeth, faking a smile not really wanting to show her true expression.

“I look forward to working with you, my lady.” Gently rubbing her knuckles with his thumb, he tentatively guided her hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss onto her soft skin. Unlike the other introductions, Liam was unsure as to what had come over him with this unexpected gesture. Deep down, Riley was horrified with his impromptu action- however continued to smile, like a professional.

****

Later on in the day, the future king was in a daze. Liam poured himself a scotch in his quarters, ever since his unexpected introduction with her- for some reason he couldn’t stop thinking about everything regarding the mystery lady. Inviting Drake and Maxwell over, he needed a distraction. A big one at that.

“Li? Are you okay?” Drake asked the moment he set foot into the room. Usually Liam wouldn’t send out an SOS, he would just get on with things. As a future king would do.

“Yes, I’m sorry for disturbing you both. The whole situation regarding Leo’s abdication- it’s just not fully sunk in yet. I don’t know if I will cope with the social season- I don’t want that.” Pausing, Drake chewed on the inside of his cheek- not really knowing how to respond. All of their life they had assumed that all the responsibility would revolve around Leo. The eldest prince. The rightful future monarch. “I met someone today……” Liam continued, both of his friends gazes focused onto him- both noticing the sudden sparkle surrounding his baby blues.

“A little birdie told me that you met Riley today…” Maxwell interrupted, whilst scoffing his face with a box of an unknown delicacy to the two men stood near him.

“Who?”

“Riley Brooks. Liam’s new ‘personal assistant’. She’s awesome. A bit boring when she’s at work, but she’s very motivated- she delivers her work to the highest standard. You’ll be fine with her by your side, you can trust her with anything.”

“And how do you know her, Beaumont?”

“She worked for us, but then we got into a bit of money trouble. Don’t ask. Bertrand will kill me if you both knew. Anyway…. I promised that I’d find her a new job as we had to let all of our staff go. I had to grovel with the King to give her a chance. That wasn’t a pretty sight, I’m surprised that I’m still walking to be honest- he looked as if he was going to kill me. Once your social season ends she will probably go back to New York. I will miss her.”

“Maxwell, tell me everything about her. I’d like to know.”

“Erm… what exactly do you want to know, Liam?”

****

The morning after, Liam woke up earlier than usual. All night he had been thinking about what Maxwell had told him, and had asked his most loyal friend Drake to help him out with a few things.

“Come in.”

“Your highness, you wanted to see me?”

“Yes I did, Lady Riley. Take a seat.” Sitting down on the leather chair as instructed, she felt slightly uncomfortable- her heart was pounding uncontrollably. “Would you like a coffee? Or some juice?”

“No, thank you- your highness.”

“The reason that I brought you here....I just wanted to ask a few questions - if that’s okay with you?” Nodding, she wasn’t sure if it was actually ‘okay’. All thoughts- negative thoughts began to wander throughout her mind. Making her more nervous now than ever. Was this another interview, an on the spot one to make sure that she was the correct candidate for the job? Deep down she had already been doubting her ability - but would push herself to complete any task thrown at her. She knew it wasn’t going to be a ‘walk in the park’ like previous jobs she had obtained in the past.

“Did you enjoy working at Ramsford?”

“Yes your highness, why do you ask?”

“Why did you enjoy it?” What’s with the possible hundred questions about Ramsford? I know Maxwell and Bertrand know of the King and the Prince’s. Or are they actually closer to the royal family? Oh god, what have they told the royals about me?

“They were very accommodating, they rewarded us for our hard work. They became more like friends, or family rather than employers.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Do you enjoy it here in Cordonia?”

“Your country is very beautiful, and also different to what I grew up in. I instantly fell in love with it.”

“Are you feeling homesick at all? I’m just asking - if you need time off there’s no need to worry about it. We can be accommodating too.”

“No, I’m not homesick. Don’t worry about it. New York hasn’t been my home for a few years now. The only thing that I really missed is the food, but Max.....I mean....Lord Maxwell stumbled across a bakery and restaurant that provide American style food. So we....I mean... I’d often go there on my days off.” With her stuttering, Liam assumed that she had been or was still very much close to Maxwell. Something that the Lord had failed to explain, or elaborate on during their previous chat.

“Very well, Lady Riley. You may go now if you please.” Riley slowly stood up and curtsied yet again. Thankful that the short interrogation was over, she had planned to not overthink it. Instead, she knew her job role- her responsibilities, and she intended on completing them to her best ability. Walking towards the door, she turned around and gave Liam another quick curtsy along with a soft smile.

“Oh, Riley- you don’t have to curtsy at every opportunity. Not infront of myself anyway. As well as that, you don’t have to use titles. ‘Just Liam’ is fine.” ‘Just Liam’, got it. For now anyway. Riley thought to herself as she left the Prince alone- knowing that he would never be ‘Liam’ to her.

****

Walking back into her room, she believed at first that she had accidentally stumbled into the wrong one. In all fairness, all of the corridors and guest rooms had similar features. As far as she was aware, she had left it tidy- now it was surrounded in what she would refer to as ‘souvenir trash’.

I hope that you will enjoy the few presents that I got for you. If you ever want to visit anywhere, I’d gladly accompany you there. We could get to know each other better? I will see you in the morning. If you turn over the page- I have written a proposal for you.

Your highness. (Just Liam)

#theroyalromance #choices trr #trr fanfic #liam rys #riley brooks #maxwell beaumont #drake walker #liam x riley #liam x mc #trr a proposal

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pug-bitch · 5 years ago

Text

That’s not why I’m staying (6)

The quicker pace of his heart

Book: The Royal Romance, Book 2

Pairing: Drake Walker x Amara Suarez (and....maybe another pairing? 😇 🤫)

Rating: some foul language, some extremely suggestive, and a VERY steamy scene. This is absolutely NOT appropriate for people under 18.

Word count: about 4,500

Notes: This picks up much where we left off, during the first evening at the cabin, as Leo arrives, starting with Leo’s POV.

*****

‘Come on in,’ Drake says enthusiastically, which Leo instantly reads as fake. Drake grabs the whiskey bottle from him and sets it down on the table. ‘Make yourself at home, Leo, we were just about to have some cocktails. You hungry?’

Leo shakes his head and then smells the delicious aroma of steak. ‘Um, maybe? What you got?’

Drake smiles, ‘Steak. I have a leftover one, the ladies shared a steak. Can I make you a plate?’

Leo smiles broadly. ‘Sure, thank you, that sounds great.’

He walks into the cabin and nods. He hasn’t seen it in years, not since they were in their early twenties and came here for the occasional guys’ night grilling and drinking beer. Tonight, the vibe is different. First, there are ladies present, which he’s definitely not complaining about, but also, Drake is different. But how, Leo can’t exactly put his finger on it.

‘Good to see you, Leo,’ Amara says as she greets him with a smile and a glass. ‘I’m making whiskey sours, want one?’

He nods and inches closer to her. ‘What did I do to deserve being greeted by such an enchanting woman, AND cocktails?’

Amara chuckles. ‘Don’t get too excited. It’s whiskey and sour mix.’

God, she’s snarky. But hot. He could get behind that, but something tells him she’s not interested. Perhaps even not available. Now it’s his mission to find out more.

The petite Asian woman takes a glass from Amara. He forgets her name. Anna? Ella? Oh well. She is hot as hell, in a shy kind of way, but according to Liam, she plays for the other team. Too bad.

‘Oh, Drake, can I use your bathroom really quickly? It was a long drive from the Capital, and I had a fucking truckload of coffee.’

Drake yells out from the kitchen. ‘Um, yeah, it’s upstairs. Straight ahead.’

Leo scans the room one more time before heading upstairs. Everyone is super silent, even Maxwell, who is usually chattier than a little girl. Clearly, his presence is unwanted.

Upstairs, he heads to the bathroom right away, looks around a bit. Some toiletry bags. These guys are staying overnight for sure. After pretending to flush, he peeks into the three rooms. He doesn’t have time for much more, but he sees that Drake’s is clearly bare, no luggage in sight. He frowns. He could have sworn there was something between him and Amara. That look on his face during the Decision Ball, those fucking tears… Maybe it was just concern for a friend, but Drake doesn’t make friends that quickly.

As he walks down the stairs, he thinks about how unfair it all is for his little brother. Stuck in a loveless engagement, with very little support, while all his so-called friends are partying together in a commoner family’s cabin. Liam plays strong, he tells him that Drake still supports him and talking to him helped, but Leo knows better. He left his little brother in what he thought were good hands, and now he comes back to a shitshow. That’s not right.

*****

‘What do you mean a bar fight?’ Leo asks incredulously.

Amara rolls her eyes. ‘Come on, Max, that’s a gross exaggeration. An asshole insulted Hana, Liv, and I, and Michael was very chivalrous and punched a guy for us.’

‘Michael, you mean...you?’ Leo points at Michael who bursts out laughing.

They had been chatting for a couple of hours, and everyone had relaxed a bit, which Amara was grateful for. She had taken care of the evidence upstairs, and she suspects that Leo isn’t bright enough to dig any deeper than the surface anyways. He showed his cards pretty clearly when he pretended to need the bathroom as soon as he arrived, and it had eased her mind a bit. Even though, of course, it means that he was here to dig dirt indeed. Is he sent by Liam? Probably not. Given the grief he had given Drake at the Ball, about his supposed debt to Liam, he was probably here in an ill-concealed attempt to protect his brother.

She gets that, of course. But his protectiveness would have a lot more impact if the current situation wasn’t directly caused by his actions. After all, he was the OG Madeleine fiancé, and his abdication resulted in Liam’s increased responsibility.

Still, she feels badly for Liam, and she still intends to help him break his engagement. If only they could find Tariq quickly enough…

‘So, Amara, I heard that you won’t talk to the press?’ Leo asks without a transition.

Amara frowns. ‘Well, I didn’t know that you were here to talk shop, Leo. I thought you were just here to eat Drake’s steak and drink my cocktails.’

Leo pauses and shoots her an annoyed look, before changing his demeanor completely and bursting into a very fake laughter. ‘We got ourselves a fiery one!’ He exclaims.

Ew, she thinks. This is indeed the seed of Constantine, all entitlement and condescension. ‘Well, I can answer your question,’ she responds. ‘I’ll talk to the press when we’re about to go on tour. I don’t feel like I owe anyone an explanation at the moment, and I’m taking a well-deserved break from all the shit that’s been thrown at me, and at my friends lately. Is that alright with you?’

She didn’t mean for it to come out so aggressively. She really didn’t. But she couldn’t help it. She makes a conscious effort to maintain eye contact with Leo, and to not lock eyes with any of her friends, not right now.

Leo takes a sip of his whiskey and a deep breath. ‘I get it. My brother told me that those pictures were staged, and for what it’s worth, I think a lot of people were suspicious of that. You’re a favorite in the Cordonian press, and a lot of people support you.’

Amara swallows hard. She didn’t expect him to go this route. ‘Oh. Thank you. I didn’t mean to be defensive, I—‘

Leo holds out a hand. ‘No no, I know. It’s natural to be defensive in this particular case. All I wanted to say is, you should talk to the press. They can surprise you.’ He takes another sip. ‘Hell, if they’re still kind to me after the shit I pulled, there’s no way they would reject a loveable knockout like yourself.’

Amara forces a smile. At least it’s semi-nice and just a little skeevy.

*****

Leo walks in the kitchen and hands Drake his plate. ‘Thanks bro, it was delicious. And thank you for the hospitality.’

Drake smiles as he takes the dirty plate. ‘Of course. I’m glad you came. It’s been fun.’

Leo nods. He wishes he could just ask him what he wants to know, and be done with it. He’s not stealthy, that’s not him. His mom used to call him her little bull in the china shop, always putting his foot in his mouth. He chooses to view it as a quality, but right here, right now, he’s not sure.

The worst part is, he genuinely likes Drake. They had such good times together when they were younger, and he was always a brother to Liam, moreso than Leo was himself. Maybe he’s just pissed that Drake has thrown in the towel a bit, forcing him to cut in again and face his responsibilities as an older brother. Maybe it’s just that.

Or maybe it pisses him off that the one woman his brother was interested in doesn’t seem interested at all, and now Liam is stuck with the same bitch Leo was stuck with in the first place. Maybe he’s pissed that, against all odds, the royals get the short end of the stick while the commoners have their fun in their country homes.

Or maybe he just wants to get to the bottom of this, dammit. He would never go to his brother to tell him that he’s suspicious about Drake and Amara, no. That would break his heart, and without proof, it would be useless.

But if he does see anything incriminating...maybe that would help Liam move on?

Oh well. Next time. They’re gonna be stuck on a train for a while, all together, kind of like an Agatha Christie novel.

‘I’m gonna head out,’ Leo says calmly. ‘But bro, I just wanna say, I’m worried about Li. He’s not well. I’d appreciate it if you joined my efforts to lift his spirits, on the tour.’

Drake nods. ‘Of course. Liam and I talked yesterday, and I agree with you, he’s not doing well. I’ll do what I can.’

Leo pats Drake’s shoulder. ‘Great. I also hope this one over there—‘ he gestures at Amara from afar— ‘changes her mind. Liam is pretty smitten, to the point that he wants to give her a fucking duchy. Would be nice if she got off her high horse.’

*****

Drake bites his lip. His instincts yell at him to go to bat for his Amara, but he knows he would fuck them both over if he revealed too much. So, he bites his lip a little harder, and he nods. ‘Well, can’t force her to like him, Leo.’

Leo shrugs. ‘I know, I know. No one is saying that. But if she spent a bit more time with him, maybe she’d change her mind, it’s all I’m saying.’

Drake plasters on a fake smile, which he’s never really done before, and he’s sure his face looks like a deflated balloon. ‘It’s their business, yeah,’ he says awkwardly.

Shit, he thinks, hopefully he didn’t fuck it all up with one awkward moment. Amara has been doing so well all evening, even when she got a little defensive, she pulled it off. Hana, Max, and Michael have been champs ever since they had all gathered around cocktails, but he was definitely the weakest link. Leo knows him well, and he’s pretty sure he picked up on the tension.

Leo walks back into the living room and holds out his arms to Maxwell. ‘I’m gonna get going, I have an early breakfast with my Father. See you on tour, Maxxie?’

He hugs everyone, even Michael whom he barely talked to, and when Amara’s turn comes, Drake has to squeeze his fist really tight to relieve some of the tension and annoyance it brings to him.

‘Alright brother,’ Leo says to Drake as he pulls him in for a bear hug. ‘Thanks for everything and see you soon.’

They all continue to fake it for a little longer, until Leo’s headlights are seen driving away. Then, a collective sigh resounds.

‘Holy fucking shitballs,’ Michael exhales.

‘I second that sentiment,’ Hana adds.

Amara starts giggling uncontrollably. ‘Guys, that was awful. What the hell is our life now? We’re dodging very bad spies from the Royal family?’ She continues to chuckle.

Michael joins in on the laughter. ‘When I tell my coworkers, they won’t believe me, that’s for sure.’

Amara closes the distance between herself and Drake, and wraps him in a warm hug. ‘You all did great, guys. Plus, the man’s no genius. No way he found anything incriminating.’

Drake plants a kiss on the top of Amara’s head. ‘He’s definitely suspicious, though.’

Amara shrugs. ‘Who cares? He’s a narcissistic royal dropout. Who’s gonna believe him?’ She sighs. ‘I’m glad I hid my stuff in Michael’s room, though. He was definitely snooping when he went to the bathroom.’

Hana gasps. ‘I knew it! He didn’t even pee.’

Maxwell grimaces. ‘How do you know? Do you have a superpower to see how full someone’s bladder is?’

Hana giggles. ‘No, ew, I just noticed everything was silent until he flushed. No peeing sound.’

Amara makes an approving face. ‘Look at you, Detective Lee, gathering clues. You make me proud.’

*****

‘Ugh,’ Amara sighs as she schleps her luggage back to Drake’s room. ‘Being sneaky is so exhausting.’

Drake smiles. ‘You could have let me carry all this, y’know.’

She shrugs. ‘I could have.’ She plops down on the bed. ‘I’m glad we played Monopoly after he left. It lightened the mood.’

‘Yeah, if you exclude Maxwell getting super upset because he kept paying Hana rent. The man has no idea what rent is.’

Amara laughs wholeheartedly. ‘I know. And Michael couldn’t stop saying ‘That’s how it WORKS, Maxwell!’, in his scary lawyer voice.’ She snuggles in Drake’s arms. ‘It was so nice. Can we also do nothing productive tomorrow?’

Drake nods. ‘You got it. Maybe we can go to the farmers’ market? No goats this time, though.’

‘Deal. Ugh,’ she repeats. ‘This reminded me how much I love being out in the open with you, and how much I love being here in the cabin. Sneaking around is stressful.’

Drake raises an eyebrow. ‘It is, but… it’s a little bit exciting, too, right?’

Amara bites her lip. She loves seeing that spark in Drake’s eyes. The same spark that has been there ever since their first escapade to the cop bar, all those weeks and weeks ago. The same spark that has come back every time they locked eyes in a crowd, knowing perfectly well that they would meet in the palace bathroom a few minutes later.

‘It is VERY exciting,’ she responds, running her hand down his unbuttoned shirt.

He strokes her hair, and down to her shoulder, not breaking eye contact. ‘Imagine being confined to a train car. We have to behave in front of people, right?’

She feels a tingle in her core. ‘Right,’ she agrees.

‘But in private,’ he continues, ‘as soon as I can get you alone, wherever that is—‘

‘Where would it be?’ She interrupts.

He grins. ‘Anywhere I can, we can’t be too picky about our stolen moments. It could be between two cars. In your cabin if you’re alone. In a deserted restaurant car.’

She gently nibs at his neck. ‘What would you do to me in the deserted restaurant car?’

‘I would kiss you as deep as I can,’ he says before capturing her lips in a passionate kiss, illustrating his point.

She moans. ‘And?’ She asks

‘I would push you against the wall, and unbutton your jeans,’ he says as he actually does so. ‘Then…’ he trails off, unzips her pants, and lets his hand wander inside her panties, drawing a muffled moan from Amara’s lips. ‘Yeah, just like that,’ he whispers, ‘I’d pin you against a wall and I’d do the thing you like, just like this,’ he adds as he draws circles around her clit with his index finger, all the while letting his middle finger find her entrance.

‘Fuck,’ she whispers. ‘Mmm, Drake…’

Her lips crash against his, and her tongue finds his, as she bucks her hips against his hand. ‘I’d tell you I love you,’ he adds between kisses, ‘and that I want you so fucking bad…’

‘Mmm,’ she moans, entranced. ‘I’d tell you I love you too, and I would also unzip you,’ she says as she finds his zipper and pulls it down. She feels her stomach flutter as she frees Drake’s hard cock. ‘If we’re really alone, maybe I would even…’ she interrupts herself and lowers her head towards his crotch.

Drake moans. ‘Baby…’ he whispers.

Amara teases the tip of his cock with her tongue, until he can’t take it any longer and she takes it in her mouth.

‘Fuck,’ he groans. ‘This is so fucking good…’

She takes care of him intently, her head bobbing up and down, faster and faster, until he gently cups her face.

‘I want you so fucking bad,’ he says in a low, raspy voice.

She feels her core tighten. She needs him inside her, right now. She’s never wanted someone so badly, all the time. If he wanted to fuck her all day, every day, she’d be all in.

Amara sits up and takes off her shirt and bra. Drake groans some more, taking off his clothes in a hurry. He pulls down her jeans and underwear completely, as if every second counted. ‘Fuck, get naked for me,’ he groans. He pulls her on top of him, his hands everywhere, as if he had more than two. He cups her breasts, caresses her back, her stomach, her ass, everything. He pulls her close, and kisses her like there’s no tomorrow. She places herself so his cock is right at her entrance, and she gently lowers herself onto it, taking every inch slowly.

‘Mmmmm, Amara,’ he whispers, bucking his hips slowly. She rides him with long, slow thrusts, each one drawing a moan from the both of them. She feels her orgasm getting closer, she needs to take her time. He knows her, he knows she likes it deep and slow, deeper and deeper, and he lets her control her rhythm. Soon, her breath is uneven, she can’t wait much longer.

‘I love you,’ he whispers between kisses, ‘I fucking love you, Amara. Please come for me.’

She feels her walls contract around Drake’s hard cock, she feels it coming. She loses herself in the moment.

*****

‘NO!’

Maxwell wakes up on the floor, stunned. What the fuck just happened, he thinks. He sits up and rubs his eyes. He peeks over to the bed, where Hana is sprawled out, pushing off the comforter and seemingly reenacting a strange battle.

‘No! Not the bees again,’ she whispers as she fights an invisible army of bees.

Maxwell slaps his hand on his own mouth, trying to muffle the sound of his laugh. Oh boy, he thinks. That’s an oddly specific nightmare.

No way he’s gonna go back to sleep right now, with Hana all across the queen bed. He shrugs and gets up. He glances at the alarm clock. 4 AM. He can probably catch some sleep on the couch.

He’s careful not to wake anyone up, and goes down each step very slowly. Once downstairs, he notices the kitchen light is on. ‘Hello?’ He whispers.

He comes in to find Michael at the kitchen table, tea in hand. ‘Hi, Max,’ he yawns.

Max’s heart skips a beat. Why does he have to feel this way every time he stumbles upon that man? He shakes it off and smiles. ‘Hey, Michael, what are you doing up?’

‘I couldn’t sleep, I guess,’ he shrugs. ‘You?’

Max shrugs too. ‘Hana had a massive, weird nightmare, and literally pushed me off the bed.’

Michael’s eyes widen. ‘Wow. Intense. Is she ok?’

‘Well, she better not be allergic to bees in her dream.’

Michael laughs. ‘Wow, scary stuff. Want some tea? I found some herbal stuff in the pantry, it’s old but it’s still ok.’

Max nods. ‘Sure. It must have been Bianca’s, so it’s probably ten years old, but I’m willing to risk it!’

Michael serves another cup for Max and hands it to him. ‘Here, it’s very hot.’

They sit side by side on the living room couch. Michael sits cross legged, and Maxwell can’t help but notice how nice his legs look in his pajama pants, simple light gray joggers. He shakes it off again. Stop it, you perv, he thinks.

Michael smiles as he sips on his tea. ‘This tea is actually pretty gross, you’re right.’

Max chuckles. ‘Told ya.’ He gets up and grabs the bottle Leo brought. ‘Here. Drake won’t care if we open this.’ He pours two shots and puts a couple of ice cubes in each. ‘Here,’ he says. ‘To stealing your friend’s booze.’

Michael laughs. ‘Ha!’ He takes a big sip, sighs, and adds sheepishly, ‘To be honest, I feel like Drake owes me this much.’

Maxwell raises an eyebrow.

Michael continues, ‘I’m pretty sure I heard his bed squeak very loudly earlier, along with a few...unmistakable sounds. I’m scarred for life.’

Maxwell bursts out laughing. ‘Welcome to my life, Michael!’ He raises his glass again. ‘To whiskey helping with your trauma!’

Michael chuckles. ‘Not just the whiskey, Maxwell. You’re helping, too.’

‘Aw shucks,’ Max waves him off, blushing. ‘Solidarity for the insomniacs of the house.’

Michael looks down at his glass. ‘It’s more than that. You’ve been quite the rock for me. I feel like I’ve thanked you many times, but none of those times have seemed...enough. I’m forever grateful.’

Maxwell looks away, unable to hide his blushing face any longer. ‘Michael, you don’t have to be. It’s been my pleasure, truly. I wish you weren’t leaving so soon.’ There it is, it came out. ‘I mean, I know you need to go home to Callie, of course, but I just meant, um… I wouldn’t mind hanging out with you more.’ Oh God, he thinks. This isn’t going well, he can’t stop talking.

Michael remains silent for a little while. Surprisingly, it’s comfortable. In another situation, Maxwell would try to fix his earlier babbling by babbling a lot more, but...not now. Now he just settles into the silence.

Michael downs the rest of his whiskey, and gulps it down with a deep sigh. As soon as the liquid is down his throat, he swiftly reaches out to Maxwell’s hand, which was casually resting on the couch cushion. He squeezes it, still silent.

Maxwell can’t speak. All he can do it squeeze it back, as tenderly as he can. After a minute, Michael takes his hand away and uses it to pour himself another shot of whiskey, which he downs instantly. When Max finally gathers the courage to turn towards him, he realizes Michael’s eyes are filled with tears. He wants to reach out as well, but he’s afraid of overstepping.

‘Seriously,’ Michael says, finally breaking the silence. ‘You’ve helped me more than I can explain.’ He lets out a sad chuckle. ‘Maybe it’s for the best that I’m leaving on Thursday. I have a lot to process.’

Maxwell exhales, and realizes he’d been holding his breath ever since their hands had touched. His heart is racing. ‘To...process?’ He asks hesitantly.

Michael nods and puts his head in his hands. He turns to Maxwell and looks him right in the eye. Max’s stomach flutters. ‘I wish I could stay, but I wouldn’t want to go too fast. I finally feel like I have a chance at healing.’

Maxwell finds the courage to nod. ‘You do?’ He risks.

Michael smiles, and a tear falls down his cheek. ‘I really do. And it’s fucking crazy, because it’s been a week, but hey,’ he shrugs, ‘stranger things have happened. Like, oh, you know, my sister being in a competition for a fucking prince’s hand.’

Maxwell laughs. Thank God for Michael’s humor. ‘I guess,’ he chuckles.

Michael continues. ‘I’m sorry, I’m putting a lot on you. I don’t mean to, but I can’t help it, believe me, I’ve tried.’

Maxwell wants to reach out for his hand so badly, but he refrains and settles for a light pat on the shoulder, which feels wrong, and too distant, but it’ll have to do. ‘You’re not putting too much on me.’

Michael lets out what wants to be a chuckle, but it sounds like a muffled sob. ‘Yeah? Because I swear I feel like this—‘ he gestures between the two of them— ‘isn’t all in my head, but sometimes I think, hey, maybe it’s all in my head.’

Maxwell snorts. ‘Believe me. It’s not all in your head. It’s there.’

Michael wipes off the tear that fell off two minutes ago. ‘Good. I mean, I’m glad. God, this isn’t smooth, come on Michael…’ he laughs to himself.

‘Michael, you’re speaking to the man who once stabbed his brother in the arm while opening a bottle of champagne with a sword. I am the king of not smooth.’

‘Really? You stabbed Bertrand?’ He asks anxiously.

‘Eh, it was a little cut,’ Maxwell waves him off. ‘But still. I am not smooth, and not everything needs to be perfect. I like this. I like that we tried to have tea, and it sucked, and then we made it good by dumping it out and replacing it with whiskey. I like improvising. I’m in no rush, I impose no pressure. I’m just here.’

Maxwell lets out a long sigh. He’s gotta stop holding his breath so much.

Michael smiles. ‘Well, for someone who doesn’t like perfect, you sure deliver a pretty perfect pep talk soliloquy.’

Max’s throat is in knots. Thank God for the dark-ish room, because he couldn’t handle seeing all of Michael’s face, with everything it represents. Everything it could be.

Michael takes a deep breath and gets up to rinse his whiskey glass. He walks back over to Maxwell and, without hesitation, plants a tender kiss on his cheek. Max has to fight the urge to capture his lips in his, to hold him tight, because no, not now, not yet, not while he’s processing.

Michael’s eyes meet his, and he whispers ‘Good night, Max,’ before disappearing up the stairs.

*****

Michael closes the bedroom door behind him, his hands shaking. He can’t believe that he did that, said that, confessed everything. He can’t believed there was this much to confess in just a week, but here we are.

Still shaking, he unplugs his phone from the charger and opens the photos. Scrolling back, his eyes meet smiley pictures of his late husband, including some of their wedding day, all toothy grins and happiness. Michael plops down on the bed, weak at the knees. Before he can stop it, he lets out a long sob, and tears flood his cheeks.

Two years.

Two years since he’s seen the love of his life, the father of his daughter, the man he said ‘I do’ to, in the flesh. Two years since they kissed, held hands, made love.

Two years since he’s been loved. Taken care of. Looked at with tenderness.

Are two years enough?

They were enough to make him feel like all hope was lost. They were enough to make him feel comfortable in the blanket of loneliness that wrapped him. They were enough to make him feel like a long-time widower, a person who would remain in that situation forever, and that’s that.

But were they enough to move on?

Probably not. Those two years did nothing in that direction. But the past week did. The warm, caring man he’d met did. The quicker pace of his heart when he was around did. The rush he felt when he kissed his cheek tonight did.

The feelings growing in his heart did.

*****

Taglist:

@drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @andy-loves-corgis , @jovialyouthmusic , @mariahschoices , @drakesensworld , @thequeenofcronuts , @notoriouscs , @drakewalkerisreal , @nikkis1983 , @simsvetements , @alesana45 @iplaydrake @emceesynonymroll @lily1999love , @silviasutton1989 @dcbbw @texaskitten30 @furiousherringoperatortoad @hollygirl1269 @sirbeepsalot @ladyangel70 @thisperfectmemory @drxkewalker @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @mrsmairstanley @addictedtodrakefanfic @msjpuddleduck @kimmiedoo5 @furryperfectionlover @princessleac1

Thank you for your encouragements, everyone! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

#that’s not why i’m staying #drake walker x amara suarez #dramara #drake walker x mc #that's not why i'm going #drake walker #trr drake #drake x mc #drake walker trr #drake x amara #the royal romance fanfic #maxwell beaumont #maxwell x michael

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threecrowsinatrenchcoat · 5 years ago

Text

OCtober Day 22 - Heist

I did not know where to go with this prompt, and so here’s Lyric’s big sister giving Niiro the shovel talk (sort of).

Niiro x Lyric: Heist

Niiro had not known what to expect when meeting Lyric’s sisters, and while whatever he had expected certainly wasn’t this, he could not say he was particularly surprised.

Sure, Lyric had told him a bit about them. He spoke fondly of them both, his older and younger sister. They had been extremely close as children, and while Lyric talked as if that were still the case, Niiro could see plainly that wasn’t so. There wasn’t any discernible reason for that, at least not one Niiro could identify if asked. But most of Lyric’s stories about them took place long before the accident that had taken his sight. He had moved far away from his family in his adulthood, seeking the independence he could not achieve when his well-meaning sisters were there to go out of their way to ensure he didn’t have to achieve such things. They didn’t speak often, not anymore, it seemed, and that made Niiro a little bit sad.

But they did make the effort to come visit him a few times a year. Lyric himself did go home on occasion- though, late one night, well past the hours of masked truths and facades, Lyric had admitted that getting on a plane and flying across the country was just not something he could manage without help, a confession that Niiro knew was a difficult one to part with- but those sporadic visits and rare phone calls were just not enough to maintain the close relationship they had forged as children.

Still, Niiro could indeed see that Lyric and his sisters were cut from the same cloth.

They surprised both Lyric and himself by arriving at the shop a few hours earlier than intended. Lyric had stepped into the back room to grab a few things, while Niiro was busying himself with shelving some new books Lyric had added to the inventory- “Astrology books, really?” “Oh yes, astrology is all the rage right now. Say, when is your birthday again?”- when the bell over the door rang. He stood up, unable to see the front door over the shelves while he was crouched on the floor, and nodded to the two women who had stepped into the store.

Lyric was the customer service expert. Niiro just kept the place clean.

But the women did not nod back and start to browse the shop like most customers did. Instead, to Niiro’s alarm, they approached him. Rapidly. He clutched one of Lyric’s stupid astrology books to his chest, as if it could save him from the incoming social interaction.

It could not.

The younger of the two smiled brightly at him. “I didn’t know Liam hired somebody!” she exclaimed. “About time, he’s been running this place by himself for so long, I was starting to get worried!”

The realization clicked into place at about the same moment Lyric’s older sister said, with a huff, “He shouldn’t be running this place at all. He could do so much better, and he knows it.”

“My ears are burning, and I know what that means,” Lyric’s voice called out from the back room, and Niiro was positive the relief showed on his face despite his best efforts. A moment later, Lyric stepped past the curtain between the shop and his workspace, a smile on his face as he approached his sisters. “You’re here early.”

“We decided to come here first and see if we could drag you off for lunch,” the younger- Lyra, Niiro’s brain supplied, belatedly- said. Forgetting Niiro entirely, she ran over and engulfed Lyric in a hug that almost threatened to topple him over.

Seeing them both together now, Lyra and Lyric looked remarkably alike. Same skin tone, same bone structure, and they even wore their hair similarly (though Lyra’s long dreadlocks did not have the bright and colorful decorations Lyric had adorned his with.) She even had Lyric’s smile, Niiro observed, and the same bright, vibrant joy, though with an obviously larger wellspring of energy despite only being three years younger. Niiro knew all too well that she was the mischievous one of the bunch, from Lyric’s stories. He wondered how much of that remained.

“You have new help,” Lyric’s other sister, Lianne, said. Her eyes, despite Lyric’s arrival, still lingered on Niiro. He was used to being looked upon with mistrust and even disdain, he had been a demonhunter for most of his life, after all- but something about this felt different. He realized, suddenly, that it was because he actually did care what Lyric’s family thought of him.

...He should probably wonder why that mattered to him, but he would do that later.

Lyric, seeming oblivious to Niiro’s internal turmoil, brightened at the mention of him. “Ah, well, not exactly,” he said with a slight chuckle. Lyra clinging to his arm, Lyric made his way closer to where Niiro stood trapped between the bookshelf and an overprotective older sister. “Lyra, Lianne, meet Niiro. He’s been helping me out here, yes, but more than that, he’s my friend.” A pause- and Niiro was not going to read too deeply into Lyric’s strangely sincere tone of voice, he wasn’t- then, “Niiro, meet my sisters, Lyra-” A shrug of the shoulder attached to the arm Lyra had wrapped herself around, because apparently they were a tactile family, which explained an awful lot about Lyric, Niiro realized. “And Lianne.” A hand, extended, coming to rest on Lianne’s arm. Lianne seemed to soften at the touch for a moment, before her gaze sharpened once more as she met Niiro’s eye. He shifted uncomfortably.

“Um,” Niiro hesitated, cleared his throat, and tried again. “Hi. Uh. Nice to meet you both.”

It was about the most polite he could manage. For a moment, he marveled at the fact that he could face down a charging demon without so much as a flinch, but talking to people filled his veins with adrenaline and his stomach with ice. Then, a moment later, Lyra was dragging Lyric away, chattering amiably to him about how the flight had been, how beautiful the weather was, how wonderful it was that he had help now and that meant he could leave the shop for an hour or two to have lunch with his dear sisters- but Niiro wasn’t listening. Lianne was still glaring at him.

“Uh-” he started, and was actually sort of grateful that she interrupted him, because he wasn’t entirely sure where that sentence was going.

“So is this like a long con or something? Some kind of elaborate heist? Because if so, you’ve sure picked the wrong guy to mess with,” she said coldly.

“I don’t-”

“You’ve been hanging around him for months. He’s mentioned you before. Wouldn’t say much, but he didn’t need to. He fucking adores you. So what are you after?”

Niiro genuinely did not know how to respond. A small voice in the back of his head demanded to know what she meant by ‘he fucking adores you.’ Ignoring that, he mustered up some of that reckless courage he used to do his very dangerous and life-threatening job and used it to meet her eye and say, “I’m not after anything. Why do you think I am?”

“Because my brother has terrible taste in men,” Lianne scoffed. “If you’re like any of the others, you’ll just abandon him the second you get whatever the hell it is you want out of him. I tell him not to be so fucking trusting, and I am sick of seeing my little brother get used again and again by the people who pretend they’re there to take care of him.”

Though Niiro flinched at her harsh words, he was surprised by the sudden burst of anger he felt. Not at her, but at these nameless people who would treat someone as good and kind as Lyric in such a way. Lyric didn’t talk much about past partners, but Niiro had gathered his past few relationships had not ended well. Lianne’s tirade confirmed that. But…

“It’s not like that,” Niiro sighed. “We’re not like that, I mean. We’re just friends. And I’m not after anything. I’m not like that.”

Lianne didn’t look convinced. Unlike her younger sister, Lianne did not have Lyric’s easy smile, or gentle face. She was all sharp eyes and frowns, and Niiro could not fault her for wanting to protect her brother. Even though Niiro wasn’t entirely sure Lyric needed protecting (and Lyric certainly didn’t need protecting from him… right?), it was clear she was going to do it anyway. But though it looked as if she wanted to say more, Lyric and Lyra’s reappearance in the room cut off whatever else she’d been planning.

“My dear little sister has convinced me to close up shop for the day and go to lunch,” Lyric announced with a grin. His words were mostly directed at Niiro. “Niiro, would you like to come with us?”

Niiro cast a sideways glance at Lianne, and decided that was absolutely the last thing he would like to do right now. He felt mildly nauseous.

“No, thank you,” he said gently. He hoped he’d imagined the way Lyric’s smile seemed to falter, just a tiny bit. “Have fun. You can leave the shop open, I’ll watch it.”

And if he regretted not going with them, just a tiny bit, well. Nobody but himself had to know.

#niiro tag #lyric tag #niiro x lyric #a home of our own #i was up late cause my dog got hurt and i needed to watch him and i passed the time writing this #i am very tired and thus did not proofread this at all

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jovialyouthmusic · 5 years ago

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The Many Lives of Drake Walker

I visit Drake Walker in the virtual world to play out his scene with Riley in my latest fic. I make a discovery that changes things a little...

Word Count 3473

A/N I intended this to be a side story to ‘Protect and Serve’ but it seems Drake has issues that he wants me to address.

No warnings, just angst and fluff. Still no under 18s though.

Recovery 2

The next day I thought over what Drake and Riley might do together to chill out and help her to recover before I met him through the screen. He was happy to see me, and landed a peck on the cheek as I arrived.

‘You’re in a good mood’ I remarked

‘Yeah well there’s plenty to do, lots of very positive stories about with the latest chapters from the app – lots of announcements of pregnancy, all that.

‘Oh, have you been playing through?’

‘Yeah, there’s been a lot of demand’

‘But you’re free to carry on where we left off?’

‘Sure, Riley’s waiting’ He led me over to where she sat, smiling more than usual. Drake looked at her fondly.

‘She may become self aware, you never know’ he said ‘but it’s difficult when there are so many versions of her, it’s no wonder she’s confused’

‘Okay, I’ll be gentle with her’ I said, putting my hand on Drake’s arm ‘Or rather, we will’

‘Thanks Les, I have a big soft spot for her even though she’s not exactly present’ He took her hands and helped her to stand – oddly she made eye contact with him and smiled softly. He made a small choking sound and as I stepped into her, I realised – Drake really did love Riley. I/she squeezed his hands and smiled, seeing a little spark of happiness in his eyes.

It must be hard for him, I realised as I pictured the scene at Lythikos Castle courtyard, where Drake and Riley were taking Sophia with them to the Palace.

There were so many different virtual versions of Riley – different races and hairstyles in the app, different names, different face claims in the fanfiction. She was pulled in so many different directions that she hadn’t much hope of becoming self aware. Drake was always Drake, always the gruff commoner in t shirt and denim, and although he had different face claims and slightly different personalities in fanfiction, he had a base to work from. Bastien had become self aware too, as his form and name were always the same though he had a small part in the app – in fan fiction he was growing in popularity. Liam was a little changeable as his race and name was variable. Olivia was a strong character though I hadn’t interacted with her much.

I put it to the back of my mind as the scene unfolded and the three of them got into the back of the limo

Riley’s POV

I had a faint memory of nightmares, of waking up next to Drake and him soothing away the fear – I must have dressed and eaten but it was a bit sketchy. We sat next to each other in the limo, accompanying Sophia back to the Palace where we would have a couple of days before Liam announced his choice of suitor and he becomes King.

I remembered his broad chest, the feeling of security I had with him sleeping beside me. I took his hand and squeezed it as the limo turned out onto the road. He carried on looking out of the window, but he squeezed my hand back. We didn’t speak much on the journey, but it was a comfortable silence and after a while I laid my head on his shoulder and snuggled into him. He brushed his thumb over the back of my hand and I felt stupidly happy.

Back at the Palace, Sophia went to Bas’s quarters that she would now share with him, and Drake took me to my room, where the rest of my luggage had been delivered from Ramsford. He stopped at the door and rubbed the back of his neck.

‘Riley, how are you feeling?’ he asked ‘I’ll stay with you if you don’t want to be alone. My room’s way off in the staff wing and it’s not that big. I can get a room close to you or…’

‘Stay’ I found myself saying ‘Tonight, I mean. Before then – well I don’t know what to do’ Drake looked at his phone to check the time.

‘Well, it’s not long till lunchtime. I need to change – hey, why don’t you come and see my room? It’s high up, it’s got quite a view over the grounds. We could get the kitchen to send something up – I’ve got a big screen - we could watch a film – or go for a walk or a ride’ he was starting to get excited making plans, and to be honest, I was looking forward to spending time with him too.

‘Woah slow down Walker’ I laughed ‘let’s take it a step at a time’ He showed me up to his room – it was up in a tower at the top of the Palace. He grinned as he showed me the view out of the narrow window, and went into the little bathroom to change.

‘I never brought a girl up here before’ he said, and I rolled my eyes ‘Well not exactly – the other week I overdid a drinking session with Leo and Liam and Bas made Sophia sit with me in case – well I was very drunk and Bas didn’t want me left alone and didn’t have the manpower to have me watched.’ He was babbling again – now he had admitted his feelings he didn't seem to be able to stop talking once he started.

‘You seem to have spent a few nights in Sophia’s company’ I said, feeling a little jealous, but that little voice in my head spoke to me again Sophia’s with Bastien, you know that Drake shrugged.

‘We’re good friends, Brookes’ he said ‘That’s all, and I assure you that one or both of us was asleep for a good ninety nine percent of the time’ He looked at me shyly ‘I’d rather spend my nights with you’ My heart leapt a little, and he went on ‘Hell Brookes, how do you do this to me? I was Mr Smooth before you turned up. I’ve used every chatup line in the book, taken girls off into the hayloft at the stables, snuck off to their room in the middle of the night and snuck out again before the morning – but one look at you and I’m clueless’

‘It’s my superpower – you’re Superman and I’m kryptonite’ I quipped. He moved closer and drew me into his arms.

‘Then I’m happy to be Clark Kent for the rest of my life, and give up my super strength and speed. I’d miss being able to fly though – that would be awesome’

‘How about x ray vision?’ I asked

‘Meh’ he said ‘That’s over rated. Teenage me would have loved peeking at girl’s underwear, but I’m all grown up now.’

‘So, what’s happening for lunch?’ I asked

‘Do you feel up to going down to the staff hall? We could have something sent up’

‘It would be nice to eat up here, it’s your little bolthole’

‘Okay I’ll call them, get some sandwiches sent up, is that okay?’

‘Sure, I eat pretty much anything so don’t worry about ordering anything specific’

‘A girl who’s not picky about what she eats? Be still my beating heart, you’re a keeper’ Drake spent a few moments calling the kitchens and we sat on the bed, cuddling up and chatting, Drake telling me about scrapes he and Liam had got into when they were children. Before long, he pricked up his ears. Someone had brought the food up and left it at the door at the foot of the winding staircase and knocked before leaving. He brought up a cool box and unpacked the sandwiches. There were some salad leaves and cherry tomatoes too, and fresh fruit.

‘This feels like we’re hiding out from the grownups’ I said as we munched away ‘It’s funny, I can’t remember much from my childhood – in fact I don’t remember much at all before you all walked into my bar in New York. I have a weird memory’ A shadow passed across his face as he swallowed a big bite of his sandwich.

‘Perhaps something will come back to you’ he said ‘I know what you mean, my memory’s a bit sketchy too’ I make a mental note to try and write a childhood scene for Riley, thinking that so many writers have done that for Drake, but not for her. She’s a blank slate for the readers. Maybe I can tap into my own childhood, let her see a few things? He grinned, pulling his knees up to his chest.

‘You’re right, this does feel kind of rebellious. Think of it as an indoor picnic’ My phone rang, and I saw that it was Sophia.

Hey, are you and Drake doing anything this afternoon? Bas is working and it might be nice to go for a ride. I showed it to Drake, who looked at me tentatively

‘Would that be okay? All three of us could go for a ride. I can give you both pointers, brush up your riding skills’ he said. I shrugged

‘Sure, why not. As long as you stay with me I don’t mind’ He put his hand on my knee

‘Bas asked me to look out for her while he’s working. She has a guard, so there’ll be four of us, though he’ll probably just tail us’ He squeezed my knee ‘And there’s nothing I’d like better than to stay with you tonight’

The ride passed pleasantly enough, I liked Sophia and wanted to help her get over her ordeal – she didn’t go into detail but I got the impression that I got off lightly. Her guard, James, followed from a distance. I was touched by how protective Bastien was – but then it came as second nature to him after all his years of service in the King’s Guard. I suggested that the four of us eat together that night, but Sophia declined, saying she wanted to spend some time with Bastien before he got busy again, and that he’d promised to take her away for a little for a mystery trip the following afternoon. That left Drake and I to decide what to do.

‘We don’t have time to visit the cabin I have by the lake in the hills’ he said ‘And we’re safer here with all the security about, so we’ll have to take what the Palace can offer us. What would you like to do for dinner?’

‘If Maxwell was about I’d go for dinner with him, but he said he’ll be a day or so, so I’m all yours. Oh – that means the Beaumont suite is empty – why don’t we eat there? We can eat in luxury without worrying about using the right spoon!’

The Beaumont suite? The most lavish guest suite in the palace? Dammit, I’m going to be doing some serious work imagining that into being. Oh well, I’d better get onto it fast.

‘Oh’ said Drake ‘That appeals to me – we can eat with our fingers, it would drive Bertrand wild if he knew’ I giggled – I felt like a naughty schoolgirl. Drake and I were so alike, we loved rebelling against the snooty nobles – that was probably why I liked Sophia, and of course Bastien wasn’t a noble either. I wondered what his background was.

There were exceptions of course – Liam was well balanced for someone with such incredible privilege. I supposed that was because he had such heavy responsibilities to balance it out. Maxwell was funny and sweet, and even his brother Bertrand had his strong points.

‘I have a plan’ Drake said ‘Just give me a moment, and then we’ll go down there.’ He tapped away on his phone, and grinned at me ‘Dinner is ordered’ he said, and offered me his arm. I looked at him quizzically ‘Wait and see’ he said.

A few minutes later, we were in the lounge of the Beaumont suite, the most lavish of all the guest suites. Of course Drake had been there before, having grown up in the Palace. Still, he had an air of wonder as he looked around the room at the lavish décor – the thick sage green carpet, the pale grey and silver flock wallpaper, the elaborate plasterwork, the perfectly colour coordinated plump upholstery of the antique chairs. It gave me a headache just looking at it and the corners looked sort of fuzzy, so I closed my eyes for a little while.

Les’s POV

I made sure Riley was standing when she closed her eyes, and stepped back out of her form. Drake jumped violently as she stood limply. Quickly he stepped forward and sat her down in a chair.

‘Wow Les – that’s scary, you should warn me’ he said

‘Well I didn’t want to freak Riley out’ I said ‘I can make her move but if I talk through her she’s going to think she’s going a little mad. I needed a break from imagining all this’ I waved my hand around the room ‘You might have considered that I’ve had to imagine a whole suite into existence’ I held my hand to my forehead, massaging it.

‘Sorry, I didn’t think of that’ he said, rubbing the back of his neck

‘Drake’ I said ‘You really love her, don’t you?’

‘Well yeah’ he said ‘That’s a given’ I reached out and took his hand

‘I mean, you really love her, she’s your soulmate isn’t she?’ He looked at me, an odd expression on his face, then he sat down heavily

‘Yes’ he said quietly ‘But she’s not self aware, so she doesn’t always remember me’ I sat next to him, holding his hand.

‘It must be hard when she falls for Liam instead’ He nodded, looking at the floor.

‘Yeah, it is’ he said ‘That’s partly why I chose you – you resolved that with Two’s Company, making Lucy share me and Liam.’ His voice broke a little ‘She gets me every time – whether it’s Riley – or Lucy, or Paisley, or Kate, or Camille. Just one look and I’m gone, even with different face claims and races - because I see what’s behind it, even with different readers playing as her. We were made for each other, but she doesn’t know it. It’s easier with one player or writer of course.’ I sat up straight and rubbed my forehead

‘And when you sleep with someone else – like me for instance?’ I asked quietly. He carried on looking at the floor for a moment, and took a shuddering breath

‘I get lonely’ he said, looking up at me ‘I want someone who knows who I am, who remembers me. You’re part of Riley, in an odd way, so – it doesn’t feel like cheating. It feels like I have a little bit of her. I’m – I’m sorry if you feel like I’ve used you’

‘I’m not sure, Drake’ I said ‘It’s not like I don’t have someone else, so it was my decision to sleep with you, and you knew about my partner. I suppose I knew about Riley deep down. So we’re quits’

‘Are you sure?’ he said

‘One look into your eyes and I’m mush, I can forgive you almost anything’ I said ‘And if Riley ever becomes self aware, you should be honest with her’ He nodded

‘Of course. If she knew what and who she was…’ he looked at her, sitting with her head bowed ‘The thing is, she might go for Liam – or Max, or Hana’

‘But there are lots of versions of her’ I reminded her ‘Surely one of them would choose you.’

‘Well’ he said ‘I always choose the same one, just in case she does – you know, wake up. Then she’s chosen me more than once and she might just do it again, and I’d have a real virtual soulmate.’ I swallowed a lump in my throat.

‘What do you think it would take for her to find out who and what she is?’ I asked ‘What was it like for you?’

‘It’s hard to remember’ he said ‘It feels like I’ve known forever. Whatever came before is kind of foggy’ I thought for a while.

‘Maybe if I ask someone who’s made that transition more recently’ I said ‘How about Bastien?’ He gave me a sceptical look

‘Mister ‘I’m so big’ Lykel?’ he said ‘I’ll never understand why you women are obsessed by size’

‘Drake, don’t tell me you haven’t – enhanced yourself’ I teased, and he shrugged

‘Well yeah, but I’m not a freak’

‘You’ve no reason to be jealous Drake, I told you, Bastien’s too perfect. Perfect is difficult to live up to’ I looked over at Riley. ‘She doesn’t remember being like this – waiting - does she?’

‘I don’t think so. Maybe if she does it’s part of waking up’

‘How come I could leave you with Lucy and she could interact?’

‘That’s another one. Maybe she’s closer to waking, but she shares me. This one never has, and she’s always been Riley, but in lots of different storylines. Lucy was just Lucy, one storyline’

‘This is so complicated’

‘Try being me’ he sighed. ‘Okay, what next?’

‘I think we’ve gone off the boil here, let’s take it up later. I need to talk to Bastien.’

We took Riley back to the waiting area, looking as if she was sleeping peacefully, and we didn’t have long to wait before Bastien appeared, looking dapper in his usual grey suit, hair neatly coiffed. He broke into a smile and took my hand, drawing me into a warm embrace which I was sure was platonic. Drake glowered slightly.

‘Les, a pleasure to see you. You really put me through my paces with the last couple of chapters. To what do I owe the honour?’

‘Hi Bastien – to be honest, I need to pick your brains’ He raised an eyebrow in question

‘I’ll do what I can, but I can’t see what I might have up here that might help you’ he tapped his forehead sceptically.

‘Well Bastien, am I right in thinking that you became self aware relatively recently?’ He looked thoughtful

‘More recently than Walker’ he said, stroking his chin ‘What do you want to know?’

‘Well, how it felt, what you think helped you along the way, that sort of thing’

‘Certainly, I will do my best to explain. Can I ask why?’ I nodded toward Riley

‘Drake wondered if it might be possible to push Riley a little closer to waking up’ I said. He sucked his breath in through his teeth.

‘That may be tricky’ he said ‘There are so many storylines in the fandom – different names, different love interests. That’s probably why she’s not emerged like Drake and myself. Even Liam had some difficulty, with the differing names and appearance, and there isn’t a commonly accepted face claim for blonde Liam’

‘Maybe if we keep her playing the same Riley for a while she’ll settle’ I mused ‘What do you think pushed you to where you are now, Bastien?’

‘Strong writers and storylines’ he replied ‘It helps that my name is always the same, and I have a consistent face claim. I’m afraid Riley falls down on that’

‘But what did it feel like?’ I asked. He looked thoughtful

‘I started noticing gaps in my thought processes’ he said ‘I thought it was normal to skip from one place to another – and in a way, it is for us in this virtual world. Then I noticed I was doing the same things repeatedly, saying the same things, and details of the world around me were fuzzy, incomplete. Again, that’s normal here, but it seemed odd. Eventually it dawned on me and I started being conscious and awake between scenes, and talked to others – like Drake – who had also found out who they were.’ I sighed

‘Well I suppose the best we can do is to use this particular Riley, take her through some scenes and hope she eventually wakes up’ Drake looked across to her, still sitting asleep, wistfully.

‘Well, perhaps we can continue next time I come over’ I said ‘I’m sorry we didn’t get further’ Drake sighed

I suppose every time we try we get a little closer. Thanks for giving it a go, Les. Will you write it up? It’s a nice gentle piece and she’ll hopefully be a bit happier once she’s played it out with some other readers’

‘Sorry I can’t stay longer, but I’ll be back tomorrow’ I hugged Drake – I was a little sad as I didn’t feel as if we could be intimate any more now I knew how he felt about Riley. I closed my eyes and felt myself tugged back to my own world, to return to my laptop by the fire.

@emceesynonymroll @sirbeepsalot @cora-nova @stopforamoment @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria

@drakesensworld @katedrakeohd @pedudley @indiacater @texaskitten30

@be-still-my-aching-heart @hopefulmoonobject @dcbbw @classylady1234 @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore

@bbrandy2002 @rainbowsinthestorm @nomadics-stuff @gardeningourmet @furiousherringoperatortoad

@kimmiedoo5 @bascmve01 @cgd03 @ibldw-main @burnsoslow

#the many lives of drake walker #many lives of drake walker #drake x riley #drake fanfic #drake walker fanfiction #drake walker fanfic

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agentunwin · 6 years ago

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MACARONI & GLUE [Teacher!Shawn x Teacher!Reader]

In which Mr.Mendes’ kindergartners come up with a master plan to set him and Ms.Y/L/N up.

[Gif by @mendes-shawn!]

— A/N: this is barely edited sorry but i got this idea from a general teacher x teacher prompt post i saw a few days ago, i thought it was cute so i wrote it. also if you know who made the gif let me know so i can credit!

— WORDS: 1.8k

— WARNINGS: n/a

Shawn shuffled behind the wall as he eyed the woman just down the hall. Her legs looked great in her beige skirt as she bent down to give each of her first graders high fives as they walked into the classroom. Her smile was bright and her love for her students radiated throughout the entire school, brightening everyone’s day. Brightening his day.

When all of her students reentered the classroom she stood to dust off her outfit and was about to follow behind them, but something caught her eye. A mysterious S-shaped curl peeked out from the wall just a few feet away. She chuckled to herself and shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Good morning, Mr.Mendes.” Y/N called out, knocking him off his balance a little. He presumed he was being sneaky but that obviously wasn’t the case, and now embarrassed wasn’t nearly a good enough word to describe how he felt in this moment.

He pocketed his hands and stepped out from behind the wall, a bashful smile on his lips to match hers. The blush on his cheeks was impossible to miss and he swayed back and forth on his toes as he replied, “Good morning to you too, Ms.Y/L/N.”

She considered teasing him a bit more but decided against it when one of Shawn’s own students came up to tug on the side of his tucked-in button up shirt. Shawn looked down at the brunette boy who was staring right back at him with expectant eyes considering he hadn’t come back to the classroom in all but a minute.

Shawn pointed towards his door and began to back away, insisting, “I should probably get back to my own class now, eh?”

Y/N shut her eyes and grinned, “Yeah, I think that’d be a good idea.”

By the time she’d finished her sentence the little boy had pulled him completely behind the wall but she didn’t fail to hear his “See you at lunch!” before his door was slammed shut. She rolled her eyes and laughed before ducking into her own classroom.

Shawn tortured himself over that moment for the rest of that morning. His kindergartners were clever enough to realize something was wrong with him when they noticed him staring down at his demo macaroni art project, his face stoic. While the classroom buzzed with life around him, he remained sitting at the too-tiny table with a few of his other students, cheeks still blazing.

And the brunette boy from earlier, Liam, knew exactly why.

“I think teacher has a crush on miss Y/L/N.” He said to his friend nonchalantly, hands messy as he attempted to expertly place a piece of macaroni onto his masterpiece.

His friend Jamia perked up at his claim, her eyes going wide and ginger curls bouncing. “How do you know?”

Liam shrugged, tipping his Elmer’s glue bottle and letting out a lot more than intended. “He acts weird around her!”

Jamia smiled and swooned, holding her hands to her heart. “Are they together?”

Liam only shook his head, peacefully continuing to add onto his art. It wasn’t until a few minutes later when Shawn stood that he came up with an idea. The little boy ordered Jamia to get him some construction paper and stickers, the girl excitedly coming back with the “secret supplies” a minute later.

He explained the plan to his friend and they both got to work, Liam leading the plan. His tongue stuck out from his lips as he tried to keep his hands steady, writing out a few words to the best of his ability. He tried to sound out the words which helped him a little, and when they were done, the two folded the letter and placed a Thomas the Tank Engine sticker over it. Jamia added the final touch by gluing a random piece of macaroni to make it look more presentable.

Just in the nick of time, as well. Shawn walked around the class to check that everyone was doing their work correctly and when he got to the two’s table, excitement was written all over their faces. He should’ve known then and there that something was suspicious, his eyes flickering down to the sealed letter. However, he thought nothing of it, walking back to his desk.

Y/N wiped her hands, sighing to herself as she looked over her empty classroom. Everyone had been dismissed to recess and it was rare that she experienced silence like this, so every time she did, she made sure to take advantage of it.

Leaning back in her seat, she rubbed over her eyes. She loved her students to death but jeez, did they wear her out. Her silence was broken when she heard some kind of rustling, making her begrudgingly open her eyes. She did so just in time to notice a tiny finger pushing a pink folded piece of cardboard underneath the crack of her door.

This brought a small smile to her lips and she stood from her squeaky seat, short heels clicking against the marble flooring. She bent down to grab the paper with the Thomas the Tank Engine sticker, her manicured fingers carefully opening it.

DeEr Miss Y/L/N

Yu are s o beeOtEfull and s mart. I lov yu.

Frum, mister MendeZ

An uncontainable laugh ripped past her lips as she read over the letter that was so obviously written by one of Mr.Mendes’ kindergartners. The spelling gave that away immediately.

She couldn’t deny how sweet it was, though.

A knock on her door caused her head to whip back up, meeting the eyes of none other than Mr.Mendes himself through the window of the door. He wore his signature good-guy smile that only got wider once he noticed that he’d startled Y/N the slightest bit, the woman holding a hand to her heart.

She quickly folded the letter back up and went to swing the door open, allowing Shawn to walk into her classroom. He took the liberty of shutting it behind himself and admired the view as she walked back to her desk, plopping down in her chair again.

“Long day, huh?” Shawn asked, walking over and pulling a chair up to the other side of her desk. He then set down his plastic baggie and began unpacking his glass lunch containers.

“You have no idea.” Y/N sighed, biting her lip and watching his perfect hands unpack his lunch. Her stomach growling was what jolted her from her trance and made her remember one of her frustrations. “I forgot my lunch at home and the tiny bag of Cheetos I had isn’t really helping me either.”

Shawn jumped into action at her words and he pushed one of his dishes her way, insisting that she take it. “It’s only two tacos, but it’s better than a bag of Cheetos.”

Y/N frowned and looked down at the food, “Are you sure? I could totally just get more chips.”

“I’m sure.” Shawn reinforced, his heart racing at her reluctant, kind attitude. He brought his leftover restaurant chips and salsa out and set them down on her desk, the two beginning to eat in silence.

He would sometimes catch a glimpse of her when she wasn’t looking, admiring how she tried to eat politely in front of him while still unknowingly having a piece of beef on the corner of her lip. This made him chuckle and her gaze shifted back to him, confusion written over her face.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing.” Shawn quickly shook his head, sporting a playful grin which she reciprocated.

The two’s relationship was very strange. It was a constant push and pull, an almost there but never really. He’d made it very clear from the first week of school that he thought she was amazing and she reciprocated those feelings, but no matter how the conversation went, it always ended with a “We’re co-workers, we can’t”.

Obviously, that never stopped Shawn from trying.

“What’s this?” Shawn cocked his head, recognizing the Thomas the Tank Engine stickered letter from his own classroom.

Y/N licked her fingers and laughed, nodding towards the paper. “Why don’t you see for yourself?”

Shawn pursed his lips at her semi-scary words but reached to grab the paper anyways, opening it and quickly reading over the broken English. Y/N watched with a smirk once he set the letter down, trying to stifle his grin as he rubbed his temples.

“Anything you’d like to say for yourself?” She teased, leaning a little bit closer to him.

Shawn chuckled and shook his head. “Kids and their wild imaginations, right? But maybe it’s not wild. I heard kids are good at sensing things, ya’know? Like ghosts and stuff.”

Y/N gave him a puzzled look and Shawn realized what he’d just rambled about was strange so in an attempt to redeem himself, he clarified.

“B-But maybe instead of ghosts, it’s love. They can sense love. Maybe.”

Y/N laughed at his desperate attempt to regain his composure and explain himself but it was fruitless and Shawn realized this too, laughing along with her. This fit went on for about 30 seconds before she was wiping her eyes and leaning back in her seat, tapping on her desk with her nails.

Her rhythmic pace made him nervous as he leaned back as well, awaiting her next words. It was obvious that she wanted to say something but something was holding her back, and Shawn knew exactly what it was.

“Y/N.” Shawn whispered, not willing breaking their eye contact for a mere second. “Say it.”

She bit her lip and took a deep breath, scared to let the words leave her mouth. They’d been beating around the bush for so long and this isn’t the only time he’s offered her his lunch at all (She was a forgetful person) but today felt different and they both felt it. Everyone around them knew it- Even five year old kids, it seemed. It was time to stop the games.

“Maybe it is love.” Y/N nodded, the corners of her mouth lifting ever so slightly. “I guess we’ll have to find out over dinner and a huge glass of wine, huh?”

Shawn’s eyes widened as she finally allowed him in- gave him a chance at the one thing he’d been yearning after for so long. “A-Are you serious?” He stuttered out, his smile that of an excited child’s.

“Yes, I’m serious.” She confirmed happily, beginning to help him pack up his lunch. “I think I’m finally ready to put myself out there again.. And to be frank, I really like you.”

“Well duh. Who doesn’t like me? I’m tall, handsome, and incredibly smart.” Shawn rolled his eyes just as the bell rung, signifying the second half of their school day. When she scoffed he continued, “So, uh, I’ll pick you up at seven?”

Y/N smiled widely and nodded, shooing the man out of her class just as kids began to pour back in.

“Sounds amazing. Now get to class, Mendes.”

#my writing #shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes imagines #masterlist

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ladynonsense · 6 years ago

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Doomed Ship (ARD Alternate Ending)

Remember when I wrote a perfectly nice ending to A Royal Disgrace, where everyone lived happily ever after? Well, by popular request...here’s a different ending entirely. Diverges at chapter 10. The entirety of Perfect Match 1&2 and TRR3 happened between the end of ARD and this fic.

Pairing: Liam x Damien

Rating: M (I guess...fairly suggestive in parts but no smut)

Words: 5854

Damien bounced his phone in his lap anxiously, waiting for permission to turn it back on.

Finally the plane rolled to a stop, and he pushed the power button, still bouncing it nervously as he waited for it to connect to a network and download his messages.

I can’t wait to see you.

I hate that I can’t be there when you land. I’m sending someone to collect you.

You’re going to love Cordonia.

God I’ve missed you. I’ll see you tonight.

He tucked his phone back into his pocket, trying to fight the goofy grin that was determined to take over his face. Visiting the Cordonian royal palace was well outside of his comfort zone, but in a few short hours it was going to be more than worth it.

A familiar face met him at the terminal, holding a sign with “NAZARIO” printed in neat black letters. “Hey, Bastien! Good to see you again.”

Bastien nodded. “Good to see you, Mr. Nazario. I’ve been asked to escort you to the palace.”

He followed him out of the terminal to where his black armoured SUV was waiting. “Can’t say I expected to get the king’s personal bodyguard as my ride.”

Bastien held the door for him before getting into the driver’s seat himself. “Your safety during your visit is of utmost importance to His Majesty.”

He chuckled quietly to himself. This was too weird. He’d been mentally preparing for weeks to walk into Liam’s world, but it still felt surreal to be in a strange country as a guest of the royal family. “So we’re heading straight to the palace?”

“Yes,” Bastien answered. “A room has been prepared for you there.”

“Great.” He pulled out his phone to text Liam.

I’m on my way to the palace.

He stared at the screen nervously waiting for a response.

You’d better be.

Fuck. He bit his lip, ducking down so Bastien wouldn’t see his face in the rearview mirror. His face -- and, for that matter, the rest of him -- couldn’t be trusted not to respond involuntarily when Liam was feeling flirty.

When will I see you?

He saw three little dots appear and then disappear, over and over. Finally…

Soon, Love. I have one more quick meeting and then I’m yours.

His stomach did a little flip. Liam had been calling him that more often lately, and he’d yet to acknowledge it. As much as he cared for him, he couldn’t tell him he loved him, not now. Not when their future...hell, even their present...just seemed impossible.

A “doomed ship,” Kai called it once, when he was being drunk and careless and mean. Damien had to ask Sloane later what that meant. He hated that the words stuck in his brain, coming to mind every time he tried and failed to envision a life with the man he--

Fuck.

He tucked his phone into his pocket, focusing instead on the Cordonian scenery, barely visible through the deeply tinted windows at night. He could see the lights of the palace, now, though. Bathed in warm floodlights, it looked like something out of a fairy tale. For some reason his first thought upon seeing it was to wonder whether he would be able to wear his shoes inside. Were his socks matching today?

Stop being an idiot.

They were met by a porter at the door, who insisted on carrying his one modest carry-on bag to his room for him. The palace corridors were wide and ornately decorated, with oil portraits of past kings and queens adorning the walls. Damien read the names as they walked, none of them ringing any bells until he saw a handsome and stately older man in somewhat more modern dress. King Constantine. Liam’s father, who had been killed in an attack on the palace just a month prior. So many late night conversations, listening quietly as Liam had tried to talk through his feelings, his voice cracking with grief. Trying to fight back the feeling of panic knowing that Liam was the intended target...knowing he was too far away to protect him.

It felt so real now, seeing the portrait here, the date of his death freshly engraved beneath. He could imagine Liam wandering these halls, stopping here to stare, to try to feel a connection to what he lost.

He hoped to see a portrait of Liam next, imagining how regal he would look rendered on canvas like the others. But the next painting he came to was a coastal landscape.

Apparently this hall belonged to the dead kings only.

---------------------------------------------------

Liam sat in his office talking about nothing of any specific importance with the visiting trade minister, focusing all his attention on smiling and making eye contact, keeping up the appearance of a good host.

Internally he chastised himself for not cancelling this meeting outright. Yesterday it had seemed so important to prove to himself that Damien’s visit wouldn’t interfere with his regular schedule. Now it seemed pointless. All he could think about was Damien all alone in his room at the other end of the palace, waiting.

The longer the meeting dragged on, the more his longing morphed into anxiety. Had he made it to his room OK? Had he found something to eat? Was he angry at how long he was having to wait?

“Will you excuse me a minute? I just need to attend to something.” The minister looked on in surprise as Liam stood and left the room, finding Bastien outside the door. “Could you have the kitchen send a meal up to my guest, please? If he hasn’t already requested something himself?”

Bastien nodded. “Anything in particular?”

“Something good. Your favourite. And a bottle of rum.”

“And should I let him know when to expect you?”

Liam glanced down at his watch anxiously. “Soon. I’ll be there before he’s done his meal. In fact, send my meal there as well.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

---------------------------------------------------

Damien was beyond relieved when dinner was delivered to his door. He’d just spent 45 minutes trying to figure out what the food situation at the palace was, finally resigning himself to starvation before two plates of ravioli showed up at his door.

Two...that was odd. He wondered if he should wait for Liam to show up, but he was too hungry to hold onto that idea for long.

He was just finishing his meal when he heard another knock at the door.

Liam’s smile on the other side of the door knocked the wind right out of him.

“Hello, Damien.” He stepped forward tentatively, just barely crossing the threshold.

He looked good. As flawless as ever, really, and wearing a dark grey three-piece suit that made him look even more delicious than the last time he’d seen him. He wore stylish reading glasses that caused some sort of short-circuit in Damien’s brain for reasons he couldn’t entirely explain. “Fff-- fuuuu--”

Liam stepped closer, his brow knit with concern. “Are you OK?”

He realized he must look like he was having a stroke. Death by King Liam in a well-cut suit. No more attempts at words. He pulled Liam into the room by his tie, kicking the door shut after him, and pulled his lips against his own roughly.

When they finally broke apart, Liam chuckled warmly. He took off his glasses and tucked them into his jacket pocket. “You smudged them.”

“And I’m gonna crush them if you leave them in there. Take off your jacket.”

“Yes, sir.” He obliged, hanging it carefully in the closet while Damien waited. Liam glanced at him over his shoulder and smirked before slowly removing his vest, then sat in a wingback chair to remove his shoes.

“Take your time, Your Majesty,” Damien groaned.

Liam smiled brightly. “I will, thank you.” He loosened his tie, slipping it over his head and hanging it on the doorknob before slowly making his way back to where Damien stood next to the bed. “Hey,” he said softly, wrapping his arms around him and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I missed you.”

Damien swallowed hard, melting against him. “I missed you too. So much. You have no idea.”

“I have some idea.” His kiss was gentle and patient and perfect. For the first time in months, Damien felt warm, safe, secure…home. How did he feel so at home in such a strange, foreign place?

He knew how. “Liam,” he sighed, need creeping into his voice. He sat down on the bed, Liam following him, leaning down over him to kiss him again.

He pushed Damien down, settling down against him, straddling his hips. “Damien, I love you.”

Damien frowned, propping himself up on his elbows. “Liam…”

“I know you’re not ready to say it. And we have a lot to talk about. But I can’t have that conversation without you knowing that I love you. It’s…” his voice cracked briefly with emotion, and he cleared his throat. “It’s important. It’s the most important thing.”

He stared up into Liam’s eyes, speechless. God, he was beautiful. And he did…care about him. So much. But… “Can we table this discussion for the moment? Please?”

“Mmm…” he sat back on his heels, unbuttoning his shirt. “...for a moment.”

---------------------------------------------------

“I don’t know about you,” Liam panted, reluctantly pulling away from Damien’s naked body, “but I really need a drink.”

“Good thing somebody sent up a bottle of rum.” Damien sat up against the ornate headboard, pulling the sheet up to his waist.

Liam grabbed the bottle and poured the smooth amber liquid into two crystal tumblers. “Somebody must be very thoughtful. And probably very handsome.”

“And certainly very humble.” Damien accepted the drink gratefully, meeting Liam’s eyes for a long moment as their fingers brushed. He blushed and looked away.

“You weren’t so bashful a few minutes ago.” Liam settled back into the bed, sliding his legs against Damien’s beneath the sheets. He grinned as Damien closed his eyes and shuddered with pleasure.

“It’s hard to forget that you’re a king here. I mean...in your palace. In your country.”

Liam winced, pulling away from him. “Do you need to forget who I am to want to be with me?”

Damien groaned, reaching out for him, but Liam brushed his hand away. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean then. You told me you would never want me to abdicate.”

“And I meant it. This is who you are. I get that.”

“But you don’t like it.” His face felt hot. He knew he shouldn’t be getting emotional but...how could he not? Seeing Damien again was intense. Frighteningly intense, having him here, in his real, everyday life. And if he didn’t like it, couldn’t accept it...that hurt. More than he wanted to admit.

He reached out for him again; Liam didn’t have the strength to deny his affection a second time. Damien wrapped his arm around him, pulling him close. “It’s not that. I guess I just...don’t know how I fit in.” He looked like he had more to say, but he went quiet, staring blankly at the wall while his fingers tapped out a nervous rhythm on Liam’s shoulder.

Liam sighed, not sure what to say. “I guess I should let you get some sleep.”

Damien’s hand on his shoulder tightened. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

“That was the idea.”

“I want you to stay. Please.”

It was terribly improper to stay. His guards, at least, would certainly notice. Regina might too. But the thought of just curling up next to Damien and going to sleep was incredibly tempting. “I didn’t bring pyjamas or...anything.”

A wicked grin spread across Damien’s face. “I wasn’t planning on asking you to put clothes on.”

He never was any good at denying Damien what he wanted.

---------------------------------------------------

“Riley?” Damien had been trying to sleep off his jet lag after Liam left in the morning when he was surprised to find his newlywed ex at his door.

“Rise and shine! Were you still sleeping?”

He groaned. “It’s like 3am in New York.”

“Yeah, well.” She threw open the curtains, letting the late morning sunlight stream in. “You’re not in New York; you’re in Cordonia.”

“I noticed.” He pulled his robe tighter around himself. “I’m uh, not dressed.”

“Put some clothes on; I’m taking you to lunch. You’re not going to spend the whole day sulking around waiting for Liam.”

Riley summoned a car for them and took him into the city, dragging him along to various designer boutiques where he gave feedback on all manner of extravagant dresses while avoiding even looking at the menswear that was well beyond his budget.

She eventually got fed up with him and started perusing the menswear herself. “Come on dude, I know you didn’t bring anything nice enough for the ball tonight. Try this on!”

Damien frowned as he took the hangers from her. “I did bring a formal suit, you know. I’ve been to fancy galas before.”

“I guarantee this is nicer than whatever you brought. Liam will love it.”

He ran his thumb over the soft fabric of the shirt she’d picked out. It did look nice. “OK, I’ll try it on.” He went into a change room and looked over the ensemble more closely. A simple black suit, with a black shirt and tie. Nothing too flashy, but...damn. It looked great on him.

Someone knocked on the change room door. “How’s it going in there?” Riley called.

“Great, just...shit.” He looked at the price tag on the suit and nearly fainted. “Riley, there’s no way I can afford this.”

“Shut up and let me see.”

“No, I can’t--”

“It’s my ‘welcome to Cordonia’ present for you, OK? They pay me way too much for this duchess thing anyway.”

Damien sighed, reluctantly stepping out of the change room. “I do love it. You really think it’ll make an impression on Liam? Should I try something...flashier?”

Riley stood back to take him in, grinning. “No...you wearing this will be more than enough to blow him away.”

He couldn’t argue with that. “Do they have a shorter length in the pants? The fit’s a little off.”

“Don’t worry about that one bit,” a man he hadn’t noticed was standing behind him interrupted. “We can take care of any alterations.”

“Oh...great. Thank you.” He stood in front of the mirror as the tailor pinned him in several places he didn’t expect before changing back into the clothes he’d brought.

Riley led him out of the shop and to an open-air cafe selling espresso and gelato. “We’ve got a few hours to kill while they make those alterations. Anything you want to do on your first full day in Cordonia?”

He leaned back in his seat with a contented sigh, enjoying a spoonful of vanilla gelato. “Honestly? A relaxed day with a friend seems perfect.”

She smiled, spooning strawberry sorbet daintily into her mouth. “Sixteen flavours, and you chose vanilla.”

Damien shrugged. “Vanilla’s underrated. It’s delicious.”

“You know, literally the only other person I’ve ever heard say that was Liam.”

Damien didn’t bother trying to hide his wide, goofy grin. “Yeah?”

Riley rolled her eyes. “Yeah. You two are...I don’t know. It’s like you’re soulmates.”

“Can I ask you something serious?” He leaned forward, lowering his voice.

“Yeah...sure.”

“Are you still upset with me for...uh...stealing him?”

Riley let out a sharp bark of laughter but collected herself quickly, giving his hand a squeeze. “No, I’m not upset. I mean...it wasn’t your finest moment, or his. But I was fooling around too, so I can’t exactly stay up on my high horse here.” She fiddled with her wedding band. “I loved Liam, but I think I knew by that point that Drake was the love of my life. I just hope you two can be as happy together as we are.”

Damien gave a small nod, staring at the bottom of his gelato cup. “Right.”

“Do you...not want that?”

He let out a long breath, shrugging his shoulders. “I guess I’m afraid to want something that seems impossible.”

She frowned. “Don’t give up on him.”

---------------------------------------------------

Liam didn’t usually agonize too much over his clothes, but dressing for this particular ball was stressing him out. It was a charity ball, raising money for lung cancer research in honor of his father, so all eyes would be on him even more than usual.

And Damien would be there.

He settled on the royal blue tux, figuring he should stand out without looking too stuffy or superior. Plus, it meant Damien wouldn’t have to fuss with a formal sash when he took it off of him later.

When he got to the ballroom a line of nobles waited in the hall outside to be announced as they entered. He scanned the line quickly, searching for Damien and Riley, but didn’t spot them. Disappointed, he retreated to a corner behind one of his guards and waited to be the last to enter.

“Do you always hide in a dark corner outside your own party?” He looked up to see Damien, standing before him dressed in a beautifully tailored black suit.

“Damien.” He waved his guard off and wrapped his arms around Damien, squeezing him tightly. “Did Riley take good care of you today? I’m sorry I was unavailable. God, you look good.”

He blushed adorably. “Um...thanks. You too. And don’t sweat it; I knew what I was getting into when I came here.” He backed away but gave Liam’s hand a small squeeze before releasing him completely. “Should I stick with her for the rest of the night? I don’t know what to expect in there.”

“Yes. You’ll be seated with her and Drake for the meal. After that, come find me. I want to show you something.”

Damien’s eyebrows shot up.

“That’s not what I want to show you.”

He laughed. “OK, fine. I’ll come find you. I’m going to jump back in line...I’ll see you soon?”

“Absolutely.”

After the speeches, toasts, calls for donations, and finally the meal, Liam started scanning the ballroom for Damien immediately. He found him still seated with Riley and Drake, talking and laughing over drinks. “Mind if I join you?”

“Be our guest, Your Majesty,” Drake said, pulling out a chair for him.

Liam laughed. “What’s with the formality?”

“He’s obsequious when he’s drunk,” Riley answered for him. “And he is most definitely drunk.”

“Guilty as charged,” Drake confirmed with a small hiccup.

Liam laid a hand on his shoulder. “Well, I’m going to take the police officer away before you get yourself into too much trouble, OK?”

Damien rolled his eyes. “I haven’t been a cop in years.”

“Once a narc, always a narc,” Riley teased. “Get out of here.”

Liam led Damien around the edges of the dance floor, disappearing out a side door into the hidden palace courtyard. It was empty other than the guard who followed them out, discreetly turning to face back towards the ballroom.

He pressed Damien up against the wall and kissed him fiercely, letting his hands roam under his jacket and wrap around his back. Months of longing from afar had driven him crazy with lust for this man, and now he had him, finally in his arms.

And then he pulled away.

“What’s wrong?” He panted, still breathless.

Damien looked around nervously. “Shouldn’t we be a little more discreet? After, you know...everything that happened.”

Liam started to close the distance between them, but stopped when he saw Damien’s obvious discomfort. “That was different. I was engaged. You don’t have to be a scandal any more.”

He led him towards the fountain, sitting on the edge. Damien wrung his hands nervously. “What do you mean by that? You want to go public with our relationship? Subject our private lives — my private life — to all that scrutiny?”

Liam felt sick to his stomach. This was not how he wanted the night to go, but this discussion had to happen. “I won’t force you into the spotlight if you’re not comfortable with it. But I can’t stay single forever. I need to start a family for the stability of the crown.”

“Exactly. A family.” The distance between them seemed to keep increasing, like he was slipping away right before his eyes. “I shouldn’t have gotten involved with you, Liam. You could’ve married Riley...she would’ve been your perfect queen and given you lots of perfect little heirs. I ruined all of that for you.”

“I’m not in love with Riley. I’m in love with you.”

“Stop saying that.”

“No.” He reached out to hold Damien’s trembling hand. “Stop trying to tell me what I want. I want you here. With me.”

“That’s...you know...you know how much you mean to me. But this isn’t what you need. Or what’s expected of you. Or...I mean...I’m not here, with you, I mean I am right now, but…”

“So come live here.”

“Fuck, Liam.”

“Is that not what we’re working towards? I can come to New York maybe once a year. That’s not enough for me. Is it enough to you?”

Damien buried his face in his hands. “No. It’s not.”

“So…” Liam spoke slowly, carefully. “Come live here. Be with me.”

Damien wouldn’t meet his eyes. “You’re not...out.”

There it was. “Is that what you’re worried about?”

“Yes. Don’t act like it’s nothing.”

“I know it’s not nothing, but it’s something I need to do.” He felt shy suddenly, but forced himself to meet Damien’s eyes, which welled up with tears.

“You don’t, though.”

“I...what?”

“Just...don’t, Liam. Just find a nice girl and make her your queen. I’m not worth this. You’re too important, and I’m just…”

“Are you seriously telling me I need to just shut up and pretend to be straight?”

Damien blinked at him, his mouth hanging open in surprise. “Obviously that’s not what I think, but…”

“Yes, it is. You’re the one saying it.”

“I know you should be able to be open about this, but that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea right now.”

Liam’s head was spinning. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting but...not this. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I’ll be heading back inside now.”

“Liam…” Damien stood as if to follow him, but seemed to freeze in place, staring at his shoes.

Liam left.

---------------------------------------------------

Damien was up all night, the mix of stress and jet lag ensuring he had plenty of time to lie around hating himself.

Coming to Cordonia was a mistake, that much was clear. He’d been weak and stupid, wanting to see Liam so badly he’d barely considered what it actually meant for them.

The doomed ship had always been sinking. Coming here had only sped things up.

And now he’d hurt the kindest man he’d ever known, the one most deserving of...fuck...the one he loved. He felt like he might vomit if he weren’t so completely hollow.

He finally fell asleep well after sunrise, pillow over his head to block out the mocking morning sun.

The knocking began what felt like minutes later, although the clock insisted four hours had passed. He tried to ignore it.

“Let me in, idiot!” Riley’s voice called through the door.

With a groan he pulled himself up out of bed. He wrapped himself in his robe and opened the door.

“Dude, you look terrible.” Riley walked right past him, making herself comfortable on top of his unmade bed. “Rough night, I hear.”

He sat next to her, flopping sideways to let his head rest in her lap. “Rough year.”

She ran her hand over his back a few times before tangling her fingers in his hair to massage his scalp. “I’m taking you to lunch, OK? I have a friend I want you to meet.”

Damien sighed and sat back up, his hair wild from Riley’s hands in it. “Does your friend know about Liam dumping me?”

She gave him a sympathetic smile. “We all know, yeah. It was a rough night for him too.”

“Is he OK?”

“He’s supported and loved but no, he’s not OK.” She stood up from the bed, smoothing her dress. “Get dressed. I’ll be right outside the door. Don’t take forever.”

They headed into the city again. It was a beautiful spring day, and the streets were bustling with tourists and weekend markets. They left the car and walked through a few narrow pedestrian-only streets to find a cozy little hole-in-the-wall bakery. Riley secured a small beef-filled pastry for him and a bacon sandwich for herself before they settled at an outdoor table to wait for her friend.

“This is delicious,” Damien marvelled, his mouth still full of warm pastry. “Cordonia’s going to make me fat.”

Riley patted her perfectly lovely tummy. “I’ve gained fifteen pounds. Having my own kitchen staff seemed like such a good opportunity to always have healthy home-cooked meals, but in reality I can’t resist the easy access to pasta.”

“Right? That pasta at the palace was unreal. Liam must be a man of incredible restraint to still look like he does with unlimited access to food like that.”

“Well, he has other vices.”

They both went quiet, the mood suddenly turning awkward. Damien was just finishing up his pastry when a tall figure showed up seemingly out of nowhere, casting a shadow over him. He looked up to see a stern redhead glaring at him with her hands on his hips.

“So what’s so great about this one?” She said, looking only at Riley.

Riley smiled. “Damien, meet Olivia. Olivia, Damien.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Olivia insisted.

“I’m not great,” Damien answered. “I’m just trying to make a graceful exit and I’ll get out of Liam’s life for good, OK? Is that what you want to hear?”

Olivia grabbed a chair from another table and pulled it over, grabbing the half-eaten sandwich out of Riley’s hand as she sat down. “No. Try again.”

“Excuse me?”

“Olivia is one of Liam’s oldest and closest friends,” Riley explained, looking mournfully after her sandwich as Olivia started to devour it. “She’s a little protective.”

She held up a finger while swallowing the last of Riley’s sandwich, then continued. “This one already broke his heart…” Riley blushed a little, hiding her face, “And now I see him all fucked up over another American...what is it with him and Americans? Anyway, the way he was last night…” She slammed her first down on the flimsy metal table, making everyone on the street stop and look at them. “You need to fix it. Today.”

Damien stared at her in shock. “I...um…”

“Damien,” Riley interjected, her voice soft and gentle. “Liam is the most beloved person in this entire country. We’re all…” she gestured at the crowds of people milling about on the streets, “all rooting for him. You say you’ve had a rough year...imagine what it’s been like for him. The responsibility that was thrust on him. All the attempts on his life. Losing his father.” She took a deep breath and let out a sad sigh. “Having the woman he loved leave him for his best friend. These past two months he’s been so strong, and I know it’s because he was leaning on you the whole time. I guess we’re struggling to understand why you held him up for so long only to come here and break his heart.”

“I didn’t...what did he tell you guys? He broke up with me.”

Olivia crossed her arms over her chest, staring him down. He tried to stare back confidently, but she was truly terrifying. “Well, he told us that you resisted any talk of a future together and told him to deny his sexuality and ‘just find a nice girl’.”

“OK well when you say it like that…”

“It sounds fucking terrible?” Riley offered. “If you don’t want to be with him that’s your prerogative, but you don’t get to tell Liam how to live his life.”

“The rules are different for him…” Damien said weakly, “...right?”

Olivia stood up again, looming over him. “He makes the rules. The rest of Cordonia follows his lead. If he wants to stand up and say he’s bisexual and that the rules of succession are going to have to accommodate that fact then, well, that’s a rather personal issue for me and I would be thankful to him for it. How about you?”

“Of course,” he whispered, his face hot with shame. “Of course I want that.”

“Damien,” Riley laid her hand on his arm, her eyes searching his face, “Do you love him?”

He swallowed hard. “So much.”

“Then fix it.”

---------------------------------------------------

Liam was struggling.

He’d hardly slept, spending most of the night surrounded by his friends, drinking scotch but not as much as he wanted to. All day he’d felt like he was sleepwalking through his work, going into meetings with red swollen eyes, being asked countless times if he was feeling OK.

He was most definitely not feeling OK.

Now dinner had arrived, and he was eating alone in his office as usual. But he had no appetite. He pushed the food around on his plate for several minutes before giving up and scraping it into the trash.

Damien was here for two more days, but he might as well be gone already. He made it clear he thought their relationship was a mistake. If he’d known that it would all end so fast, he wouldn’t have spent a second of the past two days away from him. Was that why Damien thought they couldn't be together? Because he’d been too busy with work? He should’ve made more time for him. Stupid. Stupid.

A knock came at his door and he dabbed at his moist eyes with a handkerchief, trying to pull it together before the steward came in to remove his dinner dishes. “Come in!” he called, trying to keep his voice steady.

All the oxygen in the room seemed to disappear as Damien walked into the study. “Hey, Liam.”

“Oh...hi, Damien.” He stood and walked around to the front of his desk. “I didn’t expect you.”

“Yeah...we need to talk.”

“I’m so sorry,” Liam blurted out. “I’m sorry if I came on too strong...I shouldn’t have pushed you harder than you were ready for, and I should’ve made for time for you, and I should’ve visited you, and…”

“Liam, stop.” Damien took a tentative step towards him, reaching out to brush his tear-streaked cheek. “Please don’t apologize.”

“I’m so bad at this,” he stammered. “I don’t know how to date.”

Damien took both of his hands. “I don’t care. I’m in love with you.”

Did he hear that right? “You...what?”

And then Damien’s arms were wrapped tight around him, pulling their bodies flush together as his kiss swallowed Liam’s surprised moan. He brought his hands to Damien’s waist, holding him lightly, afraid to move in case he scared him off somehow. After a long moment Damien broke the kiss, nuzzling his face into Liam’s neck as he caught his breath. “I love you so much, Liam. I don’t want to lose you.”

He was so relieved he was afraid to respond. But… “I don’t want to continue like this. I want to be together for real.”

Damien nodded, leaning back to look him in the eye. “I’ll need some time to wrap up my business at home, but I can come here. I can set up shop here…”

“You can’t. I mean...you can’t be a private investigator here; you’ll be too much of a public figure. I need you to understand that. But I’m sure your skills will be useful to the guard, or the police, or intelligence...we’ll find something, if you want to work. And you can live here, if that’s OK with you. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

“OK. We can figure all that out.”

“Yeah?”

He kissed some softly, lovingly. “Yeah.”

“Damien...I want to marry you.”

“Was that a proposal?”

“No. I can do better.”

He kissed him again, each one somehow more perfect than the last. “I can’t imagine anything better than this moment.”

Liam backed him up until his knees hit the back of the couch. “I can.”

---------------------------------------------------

Damien sat snuggled against Liam on the couch in his study, the two of them wrapped up in a blanket that he’d produced from a cabinet. “You spend the night here often?”

Liam nodded, pulling Damien’s face in to rest against his naked chest. “My chambers are a little depressing. Half the time I don’t bother going home.”

“Mmm, I get that. I’ve been known to sleep at the office too.”

“Things are going to be different when you move here.”

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes, listening to the sound of Liam’s heart beating. “Are you nervous?”

He hesitated for a moment. “A little. I’m not entirely sure how people will react.”

“Your friends all seem to know about us already.”

“Yes. My step-mother and the other nobles might not be as open-minded, though.”

“Mmm.” He wrapped his arms tightly around Liam’s waist. “I came out to my family in high school.”

Liam stroked his hair. “How’d that go?”

“Could’ve been worse. My mom said she loved and supported me...and that she was fine with me ‘experimenting’ but hoped that I would marry a woman someday.”

“Ah. So, basically what you said to me last night.”

“I’m so sorry, Liam.”

Liam kissed the top of his head. “I know. And I’m sorry she didn’t entirely get it. Do you think she’ll be disappointed in you now?”

“Oh, no, she’s going to love you.” He hesitated, unsure if he should go on. “I had a really bad time a few years back. I...went through something really traumatic. Left my job. Lost my girlfriend, who I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with. It was rough. And my mother...I couldn’t face her after that relationship ended. I felt like she was going to be so disappointed in me.”

“I’m sorry, Damien.”

“No, it’s...it was just me, letting my own insecurity put up walls. Kai pushed me to reconnect with her recently. I told her about you. I mean, I didn’t tell her who you were, but I told her I’d met somebody. She was happy for me.”

“I can’t wait to meet her.” Liam nudged him to sit up, reaching for his own clothes. “And in that vein...I have an idea how to spend the rest of our day, if you’re up for it.”

Damien reluctantly started to dress himself. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Want to go see the look on your future mother-in-law’s face when I tell her about my boyfriend?”

He chuckled, pulling Liam back in for a quick kiss. “Absolutely.”

Tags: @hustacks @hopefulmoonobject @brightpinkpeppercorn @choiceslife @perriewinklenerdie @pixieferry @nazariobae @zaffrenotes @ritachacha @h3llostrang3r @blackcoffee85 @wannabemc2 @sleepwalkingelite @debramcg1106 @furiousherringoperatortoad @bobasheebaby @sawyeroakleyscowboyhat @jlouise88

#liam x damien #damiam #a royal disgrace #choices fan fic #trr #perfect match #damien nazario #king liam #em getting entirely too real about being bi #i kept getting drabble requests for this hypothetical alternate timeline #so here's what that timeline actually looks like #you damiam shipping maniacs

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lifeinahole27 · 6 years ago

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CS ff: “On the Two” (Chapter 1/9) (au)

Summary: He’s one bad trip from ending up in AA, and she’s one performance away from a solid job and moving closer to home. Their paths were unlikely to cross until Camp Hope brought them together. How and why they meet and intertwine is against the odds, and definitely against the rules, but will that really stand in their way? A Dirty Dancing inspired modern au.

Rating: E

Content Warnings: Borderline alcoholism, very brief mentions of past relationships, mentions of the loss of a limb - this fic is primarily tame but I’ll do my best to tag anything that might need tags.

Chapter Specific Warnings: Alcohol use, past injury mentions

A/N: Holy. Shit. I’ve finally found a minute to post chapter 1. Hoping to stick to a Thursday schedule for posting, and I can’t wait for you all to see this unfold.

I have to give shoutouts and love to three very important people to this process. @initiala sent this over a year ago: look i know you're busy and have a lot of fics, but just hear me out: CS Dirty Dancing AU. So. Now you know who to blame/thanks, like I’ve been doing! To @phiralovesloki for the heaps of emotional support and handholding when I needed it. I can’t imagine my life without you in general, let alone my writing process. And of course, my beta, my dancing expert, my sanity: @captainstudmuffin. Thanks for all you do for me, from proofreading to slapping me into action. I’m sure we’re even on boob punches... for now.

Catch it on FFN & Ao3!

Welcome to Camp Hope!

About Us

Years ago, Ruth Nolan operated these camp grounds as a haven for children to explore the fruits of the Earth and come into their own. For fifteen years, she oversaw the summers of thousands of children, all in need of the room to grow and eager to learn the skills of the outdoors.

In honor of Ruth’s hard work, we’ve re-opened the camp to those who still want to learn about the wilderness, explore the rich terrain that this coastal Maine property has to offer, and take the classes you’ve maybe not had time to take in the past. It’s not all outdoors, either! Our staff is composed of very talented individuals that are available to teach you almost anything, from dancing to the arts, yoga and fitness routines, as well as anything you’d expect from the average camp of summers past. You’ll enrich your body and mind and connect in ways you never have before!

A summer camp for adults may seem like an outdated or unconventional thing, but here at Camp Hope, we aim to improve the memories you may have of summer camps long past, or make new ones if this is your first time. Plus, now is your chance to try things like zip-lining without getting a consent form signed! There are plenty of perks to trying new things when you’re old enough to decide for yourself.

Please check our FAQs and pricing packages; your stay can be as short as a week or as long as the whole summer. Our accommodations range from your own private cabin to our brand new, hotel-style lodgings. We welcome you, and hope you’ll enjoy your experiences!

Sincerely,

Snow and David Nolan

Owners, Camp Hope Ltd.

-x-

Sifting through the mail on his table, Killian tosses the pamphlet for some kind of camping place into the stack to be thrown away. It joins the myriad of advertisements and coupons that he doesn’t bother to look at or ever use. Besides, if it’s a camp marketed towards adults, it’s likely something religious or a thinly veiled addiction recovery facility, and while he’s probably edging along the lines of alcoholism, he’s damn well not there yet.

There’s roughly a week’s worth of mail here, as it’s been a couple days since he’s even thought to check his mailbox, but he’s sure Liam will be up his arse any day here to go over his finances. If he makes it look like he’s been keeping things in order, Liam is less likely to give him his Worried Brother speech this month.

He sips at his coffee, pausing just a moment to pop two painkillers before resuming his sorting. When he’s hungover, the phantom pain where his left hand should be is stronger, and today is no exception to that. He hasn’t bothered to put on his prosthetic, content instead to leave it off until he has to go into public.

Days like this, though, he has nothing but time to mindlessly sift through his queue and get day-drunk. It’s been ages since Killian can remember going more than two or three days without a drink. That doesn’t stop him from unscrewing the top of his favorite brand of rum when he pours the second cup before he settles in to watch Netflix. He sprawls across the couch, happy as he ever can be to live off the settlement over the accident that cost him his hand.

There’s a bar down the street that he visits when he needs personal interaction, and if he’s lucky there might even be a woman willing to help with even more personal interactions. That’s what last night had been – him in the bar until closing, a brunette that he can’t remember the name of giggling as she pulled him towards her car. A short while later, a cab brought him home, alone, with a little less dignity than he had before.

The sound of a key in the door announces Liam’s arrival before the man himself calls out a greeting, and Killian is minimally glad for the distraction from the road of self-pity and/or loathing that he was about to embark down. He knew there was a good reason to starting his sorting today. He stashes the bottle of rum beneath the coffee table again, running his fingers through his hair real quick to tame it down.

“Ah, you are awake. Excellent. I thought we’d set your bills straight, and maybe head out for some lunch. Breakfast? What meal are you on?”

“Let’s just call it brunch. Eat first, bills second,” Killian declares, sending his spiked coffee one forlorn look as he realizes he’ll have to go get dressed and act like a responsible adult for a few hours. He takes one more gulp before taking the mug to the kitchen to dump it out.

He’s in his room for just over five minutes, using food as a motivator to get him out the door sooner. The shirt is mostly wrinkle free, and he thinks the jeans he slides on are clean, so he’s at least presentable and won’t have to deal with Liam’s tongue-clicking. He makes sure to snag his sunglasses off the entryway table before ushering his brother out the door. Had he taken much longer, Liam surely would’ve declared that the bills looked quick or manageable, and they’d take ‘just a minute more’ to complete. As it is, he can see his piles have been tampered with, straightened and organized to his brother’s preferences, as he glances back on his way out; he timed it just perfectly.

Halfway through eating, Liam takes a sip from his water before placing it back on the table, steepling his fingers as he rests his hands on the table. “I’ve just had a thought,” he says in a way that really gives away that he’s been sitting on this for a while now. “How would you like to get out of town for a while?”

“When? How long?” Killian asks, preoccupied by the task of trapping all the toppings on his sandwich. He hates using his prosthetic to eat, doing his best instead to wrangle the whole thing with his right hand while his left arm stays beneath the table.

“Over the summer? We could make an adventure of it. Maybe go back home, visit the relatives. It’s not like you’re doing anything here. As my own boss, I can afford to take some time off. We go, we live a little, return in the fall as new men. What do you say?”

The prospect of getting out of the city, away from everything that holds painful memories for him, does sound appealing. Spending the whole time with his brother, however, tarnishes it just a touch. It’s not that he doesn’t love his brother, but Liam has a tendency to be… a little overbearing.

Of course, for a long time after Killian’s accident, Liam probably had every right to be. He’d just lost a hand, for fuck’s sake. Coming just after the loss of his fiancée probably didn’t help, either, but Killian was deep in a hole of depression for so long he wasn’t sure he was ever going to see the surface again. Now, he’s not so much depressed as he is resigned to this life, unemployed due to disability, living off the accident settlement, and drinking away his feelings as often as possible without officially becoming an alcoholic.

The thing is, Liam’s overprotective shadowing of Killian’s life is nothing new. He’s been this way for as long as Killian can remember, and since Killian can only half remember a handful of instances with either their mum or their dad, it’s not entirely out of the realm of possibilities that Liam feels more like Killian’s father than his older brother. Still, every bird has to fly the nest sometime.

And Killian did for a bit. He flew, and was so close to having everything he wanted in his life – a job doing a craft he loved, a woman that he intended to marry and grow a family and home with, and still the taste for adventure on the tip of his tongue if he ever chose. But all good things come to an end, in his experience.

First was Milah’s passing. Her brief but destructive illness soaked up all their life savings, leaving Killian with a broken heart and empty pockets. He didn’t care about the money, and why should he? He lost the reason he was saving it in the first place. He could earn it all again, but he’d never have Milah back. And then, shortly after, as he helped wrap up a custom boat build for a wealthy client, something went wrong. He still doesn’t remember exactly what happened, just that one minute he had a left hand, and the next he didn’t; it really was that simple.

“I’ll think about it,” Killian finally says, abandoning the hand-held option for his food and dropping it back into the basket it came in. He stabs at the pieces of it with his fork and considers the offer. He will think about it, too; he’s not just saying so to change the conversation back to footy and traffic patterns. It’s been a long time since he’s gotten away. He’s set for life on a permanent vacation if he so chooses, but a change of scenery would be welcome at this juncture of his life.

The idea marinates all while they finish their meal, and the whole walk back to Killian’s apartment. He’s so hung up on the possibilities involved that he doesn’t even complain as they sit down with his meager stack of bills. He signs when he’s told to do so, with no remarks about the tedium of the task while they work.

By the time the afternoon is wrapping up, Killian has made up his mind. As Liam stamps the last of the bills and puts Killian’s checkbook back where it resides, Killian speaks up. “I’ve thought about your offer to get away for the summer. Might not be such a bad idea, after all.” He keeps his tone light, nonchalant, hoping that Liam won’t catch on that it’s something he might genuinely be excited about for the first time in longer than he can recall.

“Excellent. Leave all the planning to me,” Liam says as he stands and throws the trash into the bin. “I’ll send you a packing list when I’ve finalized the plans and we can meet up again to get everything squared away for a couple months out of town.”

With a shrug, Killian extracts himself from the couch in order to see his brother out since all their business is complete. In his distracted state, he misses the gleeful look on Liam’s face; it’s an expression his brother was infamous for as they were growing up and meant that Killian was about to be served a life-lesson, and he likely wasn’t going to enjoy it very much. But he’s so lost in his thoughts about all the places they may go – both familiar and new – that he bids his brother goodbye and settles back in for his slightly interrupted day of Netflix.

He doesn’t even slip more rum into his glass until after he’s had his dinner.

-x-

Emma Swan is just as much a part of Camp Hope as the camp is part of her. For the last fourteen years, Emma has been making the journey of varying lengths back to the campgrounds; it’s something a lot like flocking home for the summer, and she’s made the trip from right in Storybrooke – the tiny town closest to the camp – and from as far as Tallahassee, all those years ago.

This year, she’s traveling from just outside Boston along with her roommate, Ruby. While the stories of their upbringings are vastly different, Emma and Ruby have been two peas of a pod since Emma’s first trip.

Back then, she was journeying to Camp Hope as part of a foster kid outreach program. It was two glorious weeks that she and twenty-some other foster kids got to go to someplace new, rather than waste away in a group home or get shipped off to bible camp again. She was fourteen, and while some of the crafts and activities were aimed at kids much younger than her, she still sat at the table and made bracelets, tie-dyed a shirt and bandana, and participated in capture the flag with water balloons like it was her first time, but that’s mostly because it was.

At the campfire that night, Ruby plopped down next to her, showing her the “right” way to toast marshmallows and offering to put red streaks in Emma’s hair so they could match.

Emma passed on the streaks, but the next day when Ruby dragged her to a special meeting for future counselors, it was all history from there. More than just finding a way to spend her summers that didn’t involve wallowing in her own loneliness and isolation, Emma met David Nolan during the counselors program. Upon picking up bits and pieces about her, David decided to introduce Emma to his mother. As soon as Ruth met Emma, she was set on bringing her on as a permanent fixture in their lives.

Having previously thought that she’d never find a place that wanted her, a place that wanted someone old by foster standards and jaded beyond reason, Emma was shocked. Not only was she wanted, she was loved. Despite the three year age difference, and the short time they’d been together, David became her best friend and brother, with Ruby a close second.

There was a shared passion of dancing between Emma and Ruby, and when they weren’t raking in the volunteer hours during the summer, they were saving every penny they earned from their respective guardians to take dance lessons one town over. And that’s the way it went until they graduated.

Remembering what happened after graduation always leaves Emma with a pit of shame in her stomach that feels a lot like indigestion, so when she wanders to the kitchen, she pops two antacids before starting up the coffee maker. It used to be worse, but time heals all, even wounds that don’t feel like they’ll ever scab over.

It’s time for their annual trip back, just two days away, and Emma has too much to do to spend her morning in a guilt trip over things that happened in the past. Instead, she wanders down the hallway to get Ruby up. There’s a whole list for her friend to complete today, and she’s pretty sure she’s also battling with a hangover from being out too late the night before.

She knocks, only twisting the knob and entering the room after hearing the faint groan of invitation. “Hey there, champ. Good morning!”

Ruby groans again, struggling to push her eye mask off her face and groping for the pain killers and water on her nightstand. She’s one of those drinkers that’s always considerate to her morning self – something Emma has always been in awe of. “You’re not the morning person, stop sounding so chipper,” Ruby instructs after drinking down half the water. She hauls herself to sit up, patting the edge of her bed for Emma to sit down. “What’s on your Snow-style agenda for the day?”

“I’m going to clean. You’re going to wrap up the sub-let on the studio space. Graham is supposed to be down there around noon, so you’ve got time, but I need you to grab the costumes we’ll need for performance nights.” She leaves Ruby to get herself out of bed, and calls out that she’ll get breakfast started.

“Don’t break the toaster!” Ruby calls from behind door that Emma closes on her way out, and while Ruby can’t see Emma rolling her eyes, she knows her friend will sense it. It was one time.

Leaving for Camp Hope has always been a little tumultuous for them, but after this many years, Emma thinks they’ve gotten a little better at it. There were a few years where they weren’t going back to work camp, and those are the years that make Emma’s heart ache most – more than the year she refuses to think about.

They closed the camp when Ruth’s health suddenly declined the year after the year-that-shall-not-be-named, and Emma and David only made the journey every week to tend the growing weeds and mend the deteriorating buildings the best they could. With Ruby’s help, they were able to keep the camp from falling apart, but the same couldn’t be said for them. Ruth passed the winter after Emma turned twenty, and she lost the closest thing to a mother she’d ever found.

Luckily, they had one more to hold their family unit together. A year after Emma met him, David met Mary Margaret Blanchard, better known to her friends as Snow, and Emma got to witness fairytale levels of Love at First Punch between them. Down the road, the wedding was a bit rushed, so that Ruth could watch her son get married. Years after the quick engagement and marriage saw them going stronger than ever.

For two years, the camp remained closed, but David and Snow, thanks to an off-hand comment from Emma, decided to reopen the beloved summer camp as an experience for adults. It took a whole other year until they could renovate everything up to standards, but it was worth it. The first year they opened again, it was so profitable and the waitlist was so long that they were easily able to expand and enhance the experiences.

Shaking her head, Emma realizes she’s spending way too much time reflecting and not enough time moving. Down the hall, she hears Ruby’s water start up, and knows she has until the time the taps shut off to get that woman some hangover worthy breakfast. Pouring herself a large mug of coffee, she takes three deep, scalding gulps to get herself going.

She’s just plating up some eggs and bacon, snatching a bagel from the toaster so Ruby can construct her own breakfast sandwich when the roommate in question comes ambling into the kitchen.

This is Emma’s favorite version of Ruby. Stripped of her makeup, without a product in the world in her hair post-shower, wearing an old t-shirt and boxers for her pajamas. Her usual persona is an elaborate mask, with the heavy makeup and killer manicure, flirtation just as exposed as her long, lean legs normally are. The short shorts and low-cut tops are standard everywhere but at home. That’s the Ruby that will likely crawl into her car bright and early in a couple days, but today she’s happy to spend time with average Ruby, and she’s happy when she does not break the toaster again. There are small miracles, after all.

When both of them are settled at the breakfast bar with their food, they start talking strategy, both in prep for leaving and for camp itself.

“Are the costumes for the Waltz demo here or at the studio?” Emma asks as she alternates sips of coffee and bites of her pop-tart.

“The studio, I think. I’ll grab them when I meet with Graham and lock up everything else of ours.”

“Good. Don’t sleep with him this time, okay?”

“No promises,” Ruby says, a wicked grin spreading across her lips even as she tries to hide it behind her coffee mug.

At the very least, they might get a deal on the rent again, which is the only consolation Emma can think of. The rest of their day is a whirlwind, with Ruby taking care of the studio and Emma tidying up their apartment. She packs the bulk of their non-perishable foods to take with them, cleaning as she goes, until the whole kitchen is spotless. She also takes the time to write down the instructions and emergency numbers for Aurora, their downstairs neighbor that’s been kind enough to take care of their plants and fish while they’re gone.

It’ll be weeks until either one of them can make it back to the city, if they do at all, but Emma doesn’t mind. While she loves Ruby and living in the city, she gets her own cabin for the summer. They converted one of the old lodges into a dance/yoga studio, located just a short walk along the west trail from the main lodge. Behind said studio, they relocated one of the cabins and refurnished the whole place to act as the dance director’s housing for the summer. Thankfully, Ruby likes to throw herself into a multitude of activities, so she bunks in the staff cabins up the hill and leaves Emma to have her solitude.

Mostly, all that means is that no one will know that she’s in the studio putting in extra hours. Maybe this will be the year she can quit hunting down bail skippers and be able to focus on nothing but dancing. She can always dream, at least.

Ruby stops in only briefly to drop off a case of their costumes and check in, taking the time to change into a date dress and do her hair and make-up. She gives Emma a wink before she leaves and tells her not to wait up, before disappearing in a flurry of stiletto clicks and perfume. She doesn’t get home until late, when Emma is already tucked in her bed hoping to fall asleep. Her friend is humming and heads straight for the shower.

Emma’s not a bit surprised two days later when Ruby announces that Graham decided to pay more than they originally negotiated, and laughs at the wolfish grin on Ruby’s face as they throw their bags into the backseat and boot of the Volkswagen Bug that Emma’s had for years. They’re actually running on time for once, but Emma doesn’t expect that to last long, especially when, after only an hour, Ruby announces that she’s famished and starts calling out the name of food places they pass.

The trip to Storybrooke, on the coast of Maine, is one of Emma’s favorites. The scenic views from Boston onward are ones she’s familiar with, but that still lift her heart. The trip is only four hours if they don’t stop, but with Ruby’s pea-sized bladder, and her bottomless stomach, it’s more likely they’ll get there in five hours… if they’re lucky.

One year, it took them almost twice as long to make the journey because Ruby was chasing down the International Cryptozoology Museum and her cheap-o GPS meant that the museum (which was on the way) eluded them for hours until Emma screeched that they were done looking and if Ruby really wanted to see it, they’d find it on the way home.

They found it on the first try on their return drive, and Ruby bought her the biggest cone of Rocky Road ice cream they could find at a nearby ice cream stand, to make up for the original disaster.

This job that they do, this ability to go up and demo and teach dances to the souls that will wander through the paths of Camp Hope, is only possible because of the popularity of the camp. The first year, Emma and Ruby would switch off every two weeks, with Ruby piling all her lessons into the two weeks she was home and Emma trying to catch ask many bail skips as possible in between her own lessons and classes. When the popularity of the camp became apparent, they were able to rent out their studio space to a few other dance teachers in the area while they took the whole summer to attend to the camp. It helps that David is able to pay them, and pay them well, for their time and energy.

Along the way, Emma has met the heartbroken and the heartbreakers, she’s met dreamers and lovers, she’s taught cynics and optimists, and she’s danced for every person in between. The two of them together have dealt with perverts and assholes, handsy men and women who don’t take “no” for an answer, and people who have gone on to contact them once the summer ends to continue their lessons in the city. It makes it all worth it, these months away from all the comforts of home, to spend their summers in another version of home.

Plus, thanks to an excellent network of friends in Boston, they never want for anything from home if they forget it. It’s all just a PayPal and overnight shipping away, really.

As Ruby climbs back into the car from their third rest stop, this thought comes in handy. “I left my favorite performance shoes by the door,” Emma groans out as her friend seatbelts in and starts the car.

“Good, because I forgot to grab my sleeping pills off my nightstand,” she says, grinning quickly and dropping the sunglasses back onto her nose.

“I’ll text Aurora now.”

With the promise of a package imminently to be sent their way, Emma relaxes as the last of their journey passes by outside the windows. She zones out to the sights, not perking up again until they hit the Storybrooke town limits. They’ll top off the tank and stop in to see Granny for lunch (second or third lunch by Emma’s count) before heading up to the campgrounds. Her car crawls by each familiar sight, and Emma smiles at the simplicity of it all – the never-changing nature of their sleepy little town. While she only officially lived in Storybrooke for three years, it’s still the only place she’s ever called home.

Granny is already outside by the curb when they pull up, and Emma takes a minute to let Ruby climb out of the car to reunite with her grandmother. It’s only after she sees their hug loosen up that she opens her door, languidly stretching as she unfolds herself from the passenger seat. Then it’s her turn for Granny to gather her up and hug her so hard that Emma’s back cracks. She won’t complain, it definitely eases the travel tension to get a hug from Granny. They’re ushered inside the small diner the elderly (and boy, would be lose her shit if Emma said that term out loud) woman has run for the last billion years.

“When should I expect the first package from your neighbor?” Granny asks after their lunches have been set in front of them.

Ruby laughs, not even ashamed of the fact that they’re so predictable that her grandmother knows they’ve already left something behind.

“We’ll be back in town over the weekend to get it,” Emma answers.

“I already saw one of the trucks of shipment head up to the campgrounds,” Granny remarks as she refills Ruby’s coffee cup. “Your brother has been up there for weeks getting everything ready.”

“Please tell me he’s at least eating.”

“Snow has badgered him back home a couple times now to eat and sleep, and she picks up meals on the days they decide to stay up there. Sounds like you’re gonna have a full camp most of the summer.”

“That’s the plan,” Ruby says, beaming before she takes the last bite of her sandwich.

Emma waves them both off when they move to go into the back for more family time. It’s not that she and Ruby don’t get to visit ever, it’s just that the stretch between Christmas and camp time can sometimes feel like much longer. The same itch resides just below her skin – the need to see her brother and sister-in-law so strong that she almost slips away before she’s done eating and leaving Ruby to hitch a ride out later with one of the counselors that lives in town.

Instead, she idly swirls her onion rings through her ketchup, taking her time with making sure every crumb is gone from the plate while she waits. She glances around, waving to the familiar faces in the booths and at the counter beside her, and she grins at the large board already propped near the entrance that loudly welcomes the campers to town. Since the grounds are two miles north of Storybrooke, many will pass through on their way. Some will stay overnight in the bed and breakfast while others will stop for a bite and a fill-up before continuing on to Camp Hope.

Thankfully, the business that the camp brings to the town will mean that the owners of most, if not all, of the establishments will have their pockets lined for months to come, making the onslaught of guests and visitors worth it when the summer ends and they go back to something less than a speck on the map of Maine.

Ruby and Granny are back a short time later, while Emma is idly catching up with a sweet yoga teacher that goes by Tink. The name is fitting of the cherub-faced woman with the perfect curly bun of blonde hair on top of her head. She’s new to the staff, but not to the town, so Emma is happy to listen to her excitement bubble over as she discusses all the classes she’ll be teaching for the next few months.

“A little help?” Ruby asks, and Emma finally glances up to see her friend’s arms laden down with several bags of what Emma assumes are home-cooked meals, prepared in advance and packaged for the crew that’s already working on getting the grounds ready for the summer. She moves around the counter to take a few of the cloth totes, waving farewell to Tink as they head out.

The rest of the afternoon passes quickly; they use the main entrance to deliver the food to Snow, who’s waiting for them beneath the welcome sign when they pull up. Emma hugs her tight before transferring two of the bags to her. They make the short trek down to the main lodge where Emma gets to give her brother his own hug, tight and bracing and full of the warmth she misses when she’s away from him for so long. With lunch delivered, Ruby and Emma head back up to the car to move it to the staff parking.

The lodges they’ll each be staying in are much closer to their hidden lot than they are the main entrance, which works out well when they’re unloading enough luggage for four months, and maybe a kitchen sink or two. It takes them three trips up and down the steps leading to the lot: one to Ruby’s space in the staff lodges, one to Emma’s private lodge, and one to the studio itself.

Emma wastes no time turning on all the lights and stepping up onto the vast wooden floor. There are mirrors lining one wall, floor to ceiling, and another has all the cabinets where they store their costumes and gear. The wall opposite her reflection has windows spaced evenly apart, which she immediately starts working open even as Ruby brings in the last tote of their stuff. The air is a little stagnant, but flipping on the overhead fans will get it moving again.

Ruby drops the last container with their gear, rushing out to choose her space and start unpacking as soon as she can and promising to come back later to help get the studio in order. Emma waves her off, already itching to have the space to herself. Her muscles are practically begging to be warmed up, to take advantage of the wide open space that calls her name.

She knows she needs to clean first; the mirrors and windows all have that faint tinge of grime that comes from a long winter of neglect. The air conditioning unit needs to be tended to, as well, and tested to make sure it’s in working order before the summer starts in full. Then there’s the cleaning and organizing and stocking and… and Emma doesn’t care. She rips open the first bag she finds and pulls out leggings and a sports bra – they’ll do in a pinch. She changes quickly before skipping along the path back to the studio.

It’s only a matter of time before she’s selected something with an upbeat tempo, thankful again for the auxiliary port that allows her to play her own music from the impressive sound system. She sits on the dusty floors for a moment to slip on a beat up pair of practice shoes and lamenting again how she’ll have to turn her focus to cleaning next.

She takes her time stretching, making sure to work out all the kinks from the drive up and getting her muscles and body all warmed up. As soon as she’s on her feet, she’s running through swing patterns that she can do on her own. Through lines of sailor shuffles and slides, she dances using the whole dance studio, going from one end of the spacious floor to the other. She doesn’t get this much room in Boston. She doesn’t get this solitude. She doesn’t get this freedom. Maybe this is the real reason she loves coming back to camp so often, and there’s probably something in her psyche to deal with in those regards but it’s nothing she’s willing to look too closely into.

By the time the playlist switches to something for cooldown, Emma has worked up an impressive sweat. She grabs a towel from the same bin she found her shoes in, wiping down her face and neck before dropping back to the floor for final stretches. Placing the towel on the floor, she stretches out briefly, staring up at the ceiling and watching the fans whirl peacefully above her. This is it. This is home for the next couple months. And nothing will change how happy she is to be here.

With that thought, and a beatific smile, Emma changes back to her tennis shoes and hauls herself off the floor. There’s hours of cleaning ahead of her, after all.

Chapter 2

#cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan ff #cs multichap #sarah writes ff

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srawesleyghuewrites · 6 years ago

Text

Back To You - Chapter Two

Pairing: Drake x MC(Anna Grey)

Faceclaim: Daniel di Tomasso as Drake Walker and Elizabeth Olsen as Anna Grey

Book: The Royal Romance

Word Count: ~ 2,400

Rating: M for language

Prompt:

Remembering the past isn’t always the best choice, Drake Walker was reminded of that right at the beggining of Homecoming ball. But what has changed since the first time they met? And worse, what has stayed the same?

Anna Grey on the other hand feels the weight of choices she hasn’t yet done and the consequences they’ll bring to everyone around her.

Author’s Note:

Hiiiii dear readers!!!!

I took to long to update the fic and I know that, the thing is: I’ve been having some trouble with anxiety and my dear beta reader has been taking care of her own problems so everything kind of just pilled up and I got late. BUT NOW I’M HERE RIGHT? Better late then never!

This chapter has what is the beggining of angst so brace yourselves because there is way more coming your way.... That being said I hope you all like it, I’ll update soon maybe and I already apologize for any grammar mistake(I’m from Brazil so give me a break lol)!

Always let me know if you wanna be in or out of the tag list and I appreciate feedback!

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@bella-ca @innerpostmentality @missevabean @leelee10898 @asprankle @drakewalkerfantasy @christopher-powell @lazychic28

Disclaimer: The characters don’t belong to me(except for Anna Grey), I just borrow them from Pixelberry!

“And every time we talk

Every single word builds up to this moment

And I gotta convince myself I don't want it

Even though I do (even though I do)”

“I don-”

Anna starts to say but Drake is already gone, he walks fast searching for a place far from the ‘happy couple’. He simply can’t watch Liam receive her affection and love so openly, when the best he can get are secret stolen moments with her.

In the anger of the moment Drake didn’t see Maxwell and Hana walking between laughs towards him. They collide and Drake almost knocks the drinks out of their hands, knowing he doesn’t have time or patience to deal with it yet he simply mumbles an apology.

“You almost spilled the drinks man, and the bar is faaaar away!”

Maxwell speaks in the childish way that Drake’s used to but this time it bothers him more than ever, so he smirks before stealing the two glasses Maxwell is holding and drinking it all in a single sip.

“Sorry.”

“Why are you so mean? Now I gotta get more drinks, damn!”

Drake stops him in his track, he feels the rage boiling stronger as he speaks:

“I drank mine and Grey’s but Liam already got her another, don’t worry.”

Hana has been watching Drake and Anna since the moment they went to the bar, it started complicated but her eyes sparkled when she saw Drake touching Anna’s arm and she coming closer to him. She felt pretty proud of giving them the first push until Liam approached and Drake left with hurt in his eyes. Now he is standing in front of her, his brown irises darker than normal indicating there is something really wrong.

“Drake, is everything al-”

He doesn’t let Hana finish too, passing between her and Maxwell in quick steps toward the exit of the ballroom. Maxwell shares the confused look with her about Drake’s angrier mood. Except he shrugs while walking in their friends direction and Hana keeps searching for a way to help her friends, maybe she should talk to Anna? Or ask her to talk to Drake? Maybe she should just let them deal with it alone but there is a voice inside her head that screams they won’t solve it without her help.

Anna smiles at Liam, accepting the drink and the dance but they are soon interrupted by Hana and Maxwell.

“I got you drinks but Drake stole them, so if you really want I can go aaaall the way over to the bar to get more.”

Maxwell says in a dramatic tone while Hana gets closer to Anna so she can whisper that Drake is not alright, she isn’t sure that’s the right thing to do but Hana learned to trust her gut with these two.

“There is no need Maxwell, me and Anna were about to open up the dance floor.”

The two women look at each other uncertainly, Anna knows she has to talk to Drake but it breaks her heart denying Liam’s sweet proposal of dancing. Hana Lee wasn’t used to having friends, for most of her life seemed like the weight of the world was on her shoulders and there was nobody to help her carry. That’s probably why she dreamed of having friends, not really sure if she would know what to do or if it was actually everything she expected. Yet in this moment Hana understands what it means friendship, as she gently brushes her hand on Liam’s arm and speaks:

“Would you mind if it was me and you? I’ve been dying to dance again.”

“It would be my pleasure Lady Hana.”

Liam is pretty good at maintaining his expression neutral, even when he feels disappointed that Anna won’t be the one he is dancing with. The American in the other hand has a harder time hiding her growing affliction about Drake, she however manages to give him a fake smile and nod as they leave for the dance floor, not before Hana winking at her. She mouths a ‘thank you’ and drinks the rest of her whiskey in one gulp, needing the liquid courage to go face a very complicated commoner that makes her heart race.

The ballroom is bright and full of noise, some people laughing, other politely engaged in boring conversation, most of them eating the delicious food and sipping on the expensive drinks.

Anna walks towards the door in fast steps, her heartbeat racing with every second and she curses herself for feeling so out of control when it comes to him. All the noise is only a buzz when she reaches the library, stopping at the door and taking a deep breath before opening it.

She doesn’t know why she felt like he would be here, the place he showed her just the night before in his happy-drunk state. Her gaze scours the room with hope but it fades as she realizes he’s not there, a big sigh escapes her mouth and she is about to leave when a small noise caught her attention.

“I made up my mind, it must come to an end

Look at me now, will I ever learn?”

Anna kept listening, following the sound cautiously until she enters the secret passage and finally identifies the song. The sound is coming from the two empty whiskey cups that Drake clinks together in the rhythm of Mamma Mia while he slowly hums the lyrics.

She takes a moment to observe him without anyone to interrupt or to suspect that she’s completely in love with him, when not even Anna admits that. His dark hair is messy and he’s constantly running his hand through it, probably because of the sad expression in his face.

A long time ago Anna Grey dreamed of living in New York and pursuing the actress career, she took lessons and practiced every classic Shakespeare play for months. Then she decided an actress should be able to sing and started obsessing over musicals, her mom got tired of how much she singed Chim Chim Cher-ee around the house.

For not knowing exactly how to strike conversation with the man in front of her, fully lost in his own thoughts or maybe just because she couldn’t control the joke. Enjoying to make a great entrance she sings mimicking a microphone in harmony with his clinking sounds since he’s not singing anymore.

“Mamma mia, here I go again

My my, how can I resist you?

Mamma mia, does it show again

My my, just how much I've missed you?”

Drake gets up with surprise written all over his face, he almost drops the cups with the shock yet his gaze softens as he sees the smile on her lips.

“You scared me Grey.”

“Oh, come on. I took lessons and my teacher said I was pretty good.”

Anna jokes before closing the door behind her and walking closer to him, her dress shining in the dim light along with those big sparkly eyes that stare into his. Drake can’t help but take a step in her direction too, letting the cups rest on a small stool near him.

“Can we agree to never talk about this again?”

“Are you kidding? This is like gold blackmailing information.”

She chuckles and he rolls his eyes. They both can feel the attraction between them, the electric way the air feels when it’s just the two of them, when they can finally allow themselves to feel.

“Though I did not expect Mamma Mia coming from you, you’re more of a Les Miserables kind of guy.”

“If that was a pun intended joke you need to stop hanging out with Maxwell. Which, by the way, was the person who made me watch Mamma Mia. The song got stuck in my head.”

“Yeah I may not comment this with people… but I need a ‘pretty please’ from you.”

“You know I won’t say that.”

“Maybe your ‘pretty please’ can be a kiss?”

“What are you doing here anyway Grey? Aren’t you supposed to be with Liam?”

They both remember very well the last time he said that to her and the thought makes her approach him, stopping right in front of him with a tiny smirk spread across her mouth. This time she is gonna let her intentions pretty clear, that’s why she moves closer until she is inches away from him.

“I prefer being with you.”

Her voice is strong and full of truth, her fingertips reach again for his cheek and her lips brush gently over his. Drake gets lost in the touch, her words echoing in his mind when he pulls her closer and deepens the kiss.

It’s incredible how every time they kiss there is a flame burning inside the both of them, a feeling of warmth and belonging that neither has ever felt before. His hands are stroking her soft hair as her’s caress his cheek, using the touch to bring his body so close there isn’t anything separating them.

Slowly and out of air they break apart, still with their foreheads pressed together and the desire for much more than just the kiss. Anna still remembers his lips travelling down her body in the most adoring way she has ever seen, if she really concentrates she can feel his warmth breath in her ear from the first time they made love, only two days ago.

Drake remembers that night too, the way her hands touched him with so much love and hunger it made him shiver at the thought, if he closes his eyes he can still hear her moaning whispers and how making love to her was beyond any expectation. Though with the memories of that night racing in his mind, the memory of how Liam’s broken expression at the hospital lightened up at the sight of Anna is brought up too. His best friend is crazy about her and he can’t do that to him, not tonight.

He takes a step back, the hand stroking her hair is now grabbing the cup again and he drops gently the hand holding her hips. Anna cocks both of her eyebrows at him, silently asking what the hell just happened and but his body language explains it without needing words.

Liam. It’s always Liam.

“Don’t do this.”

She takes a step forward and he takes another one back, trying to keep the distance between them or he’ll end up screwing everything up. Anna has learned better than to fight him with her words so in a quick move she embraces his waist and kisses him hungrily.

“Grey…”

Their lips are still pressed together when he mumbles her surname, it’s too good having her like that and Drake steals a peck before kissing her forehead in a protective way and whispering:

“You know we can’t do that. Not here, not tonight.”

“When then?”

“I don’t know. But don’t you dare thinking I don’t want this, because damn Grey I want this more than anything.”

“When will you understand that it’s exactly what I want too?”

The silence answers her and Anna can feel the tears building up in her eyes but she won’t allow herself to cry over this, over Drake’s stubborn ass. She turns to go without saying another word however he holds her arm again.

“I have...I have a bad feeling about today and it’s probably stupid, I think I also need to stop spending time with Maxwell.”

She doesn’t laugh at his little joke and stares at him with an expression as cold as ice, he fondles her cheek while talking:

“Just.. just take care ok?”

Hana Lee is drinking a glass of champagne and watching with a smile the Cordonian waltz when Anna Grey enters the ballroom again. She recognizes her friend easily because of the golden gown and the impetuous presence that comes with it, Anna takes place beside her and the anger is transparent in her hushed tone.

“You shouldn’t have said anything.”

The waiter passes with a tray full of champagne glasses and the American takes two at once, drinking them too fast for Hana’s taste so she smiles apologetically to the red haired man.

“What happened?”

Their eyes are focused on the couples dancing, Olivia and Liam move in complete sync but Hana’s gaze is now on the door beside them where a figure enters it silently. Drake glances in their direction, staring at Anna for some seconds before lowering his head and going straight to the bar.

“What always happens Hana. He pushed me away.”

She puts a hand on her friend’s shoulder, letting Anna rest her head on her shoulder and she is one more time thankful that Hana is with her tonight. Watching Liam whirl Olivia she lets out a big sigh and resumes on drinking Hana’s stolen champagne.

“Maybe he just needs a little push, or a little patience.”

“What do you guys think about making an after party in Anna’s room?”

Maxwell sits next to Anna, an excited grin spread across his lips but quickly fades by the cold look on Anna’s face. Hana speaks in an almost-angry tone, but not totally because Hana is too sweet to be fully mad.

“Maxwell, we are in the middle of an important conversation. Why don’t you go invite someone to dance?”

“O-okay then.”

The second Maxwell leaves Anna throws her hands in the air and says only for Hana to hear:

“I don’t want this. I can’t do this anymore Han and honestly, I don’t want to.”

Hana wonders if she is lying to herself too, remembering the many lies she told herself about how she wanted to take those hundred lessons to be a ‘real lady’ and knowing the weight of those lies in her happiness, she can’t let her friend keep up the act. So she takes Anna’s hands and looks into her eyes.

“This is a lie that you’re telling yourself honey. And these usually just ruin our chances of true happiness, so don’t do it.”

“I’m not lying Han. I’m tired, exhausted even, of playing these damn games with him. I’m tired.”

“But that doesn’t mean you don’t want it anymore. More importantly, it doesn’t mean you don’t need it.”

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livingthroughchoices-blog · 6 years ago

Text

The Marshmallow Chronicles (Ch. 15: The Brothers Beaumont)

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Author’s notes: Sorry this took so long! This is such an important chapter I was pretty nervous about writing it. I really hope it lives up to everyone’s expectations!

Thanks to everyone who likes, reblogs and/or comments. It truly means a lot! And especially to @starstruckzonkoperatorbat, @notoriouscs, @simplyaiden-blog, @snyggflicka, @asprankle, @speedyoperarascalparty, @mirivalencia, @mymandrake, @asobigokoro2018, @krisnicjack and @fabi-en-ciel for asking me to tag them! Please let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged (:

I love y'all!

Rating: T

Pairing: Drake x MC

Words: 6,903

Although he’d intended to stay up all night, Drake eventually fell into a fitful sleep from which he awoke with a start. He’d slept for longer than he would’ve thought; judging by how tired he felt, he would’ve guessed he’d slept maybe 4 hours, yet it had been more than twice that long.

Despite the fact that he could barely open his bleary eyes, he was glad for the late hour, as he was sure to avoid Riley. She had undoubtedly been woken up by Maxwell at an ungodly hour, and had possibly even made it to the Beaumonts’ estate by now.

He, along with Liam and Bastien, would not be making their way there until the next day. He was glad for one more day at the manor, knowing he would not be seeing Riley. Or worse, Riley and Liam together.

He tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes, but in closing them only succeeded in making himself sleepier.

Cold shower it is, then.

He hopped in and let out a gasp full of regret as soon as the freezing water hit his back, not just because of how unpleasant it was, but also because being more awake only meant more inner turmoil.

What the hell happened last night? Addams, she... the things she said... Could she actually feel the same way?

The arguing little voice was back.

Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve been through this. Her other choice is Liam. It’s cute that the thought even crossed your mind. Or maybe just pathetic.

He shook his head, washing his body at a furious speed, eager to be out of the shower and drown his thoughts out somehow.

One thing is clear, he thought as he wrapped a towel around his waist, I can’t trust myself around her. I have to avoid her until this crush goes away or until... she’s engaged to Liam, then I’ll have no choice but to accept it.

Seems like half the court’s gonna be heartbroken.

He gave a wry smile at that.

Hell, even Tariq!

He was grateful when that train of thought led him back to Riley’s odd door. He thought it was probably nothing, but he’d rather be safe than sorry. Moreover, reporting it to Bastien gave him something to do, other than agonizing over a crush like a dumb teenager.

He found Bastien at the manor’s small archery range, practicing. As he came into view, he loosed an arrow, which flew wildly over the target. Bastien threw his bow down to the dirt in frustration and kicked at it.

“Whoa, what’s that poor bow done to you? It’s not its fault you suck.”

Bastien wheeled around with a glare so fierce, Drake put his hands up and backtracked, “Hey, hey, you know I’m kidding! Besides, who would I be to say that? I’m the worst at archery.”

“That you are,” replied Bastien drily, turning around to pick his bow up.

“Bastien, I have to tell you something.”

The man only grunted in response, already nocking another arrow.

Someone’s cooperative.

Drake cleared his throat and moved closer, determined to make himself heard.

“Right. So last night, I was in Addam’s room–”

He cut himself off as Bastien let the arrow go, hitting the target square in the middle. He whistled, impressed.

“That was one hell of a shot. I definitely take back what I said earlier.”

A tense silence followed and somehow, although Bastien still had his back to him, he could tell he’d arched a judgmental eyebrow.

“What?” Drake said defensively. “I had a good reason to be there, okay? I’m not gonna get into it but I did...”

The silence continued until he could no longer bear it.

“Look! Whatever, okay?! Nothing happened so you can stop with the third degree!”

Bastien scoffed softly at that and finally turned to look at him, a small smile on his face.

“All right, I’ll stop. You were saying? You were in Lady Riley’s room and then what happened?”

“Nothing happened!” he exploded. Bastien looked strangely at him and Drake felt his neck grow hot. “Oh, uh, you meant what did I want to tell you,” he said in a smaller voice.

Bastien nodded.

“There was no lock on her door.”

There was another silence and then Bastien shrugged.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Drake asked, incensed at not being taken seriously.

“It means I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Drake had reached the same conclusion on his own from the start, but he was so irritated by Bastien’s nonchalance about the whole thing that he was suddenly arguing passionately; it was almost involuntary.

“How the hell do you figure? Hers was the only door without a lock, okay? Don’t you think that’s weird?!”

Bastien shrugged again and Drake resisted the urge to shove him.

“Evidently, that is not how it should be and I’ll bring it to the staff’s attention, but I’m certain it’s not important. Come to think of it, they remodeled the manor recently, they might have simply forgotten to change that door handle.”

Bastien’s reasonable tone penetrated Drake’s layers of annoyance and calmed him. But he wasn’t going down without a fight.

“I still think you should check on it.”

“Drake, you know I will,” said Bastien, picking up his bow and arrow. Once again, his shot missed by a wide margin.

Drake snorted.

“Well, then, I’ll let you get back to practice. You clearly need it.”

He narrowly avoided being whacked by the bow Bastien swung at him and, still chuckling, he strolled back to the manor. A whole Riley-free and thus, jealousy-free day stretched ahead of him and he didn’t yet know what to do with it. He felt a twinge of sadness at the prospect of not seeing her today and mentally smacked himself.

So you’re upset if your see her, upset if you don’t? Stop whining, idiot. Maybe you could find Lady Kiara and pick up where you left off...

With more of a destination in mind – even if it was a person rather than a place – he strode towards the manor. Almost at the threshold, his phone went off in his pocket. He picked it out and saw “Maxwell” on the screen. He groaned.

“Dude. I get one day to rest from you. One. D–”

“Drake! Shut up for a second!”

He was so shocked that Maxwell had told him to shut up, that he did.

“Didn’t you get my texts? I need you, it’s an emergency!”

Drake pinched his forehead. “Maxwell, if this is in any way party related–”

“It’s not! I mean, it is, but it’s important, I promise!”

“Well, spit it out!”

He heard Maxwell sigh on the other end. “The... the caterers quit on us. The whole staff, in fact.”

Drake gaped at his phone. “Shit. Is it, um, because of the money thing?”

Maxwell took a second to answer, “Yes.”

“Damn, Maxwell, I’m sorry. So how many people have you recruited?”

His question was met with more silence.

“I’m the only one, huh?”

“Yeah, I asked Tariq and a couple of other guys but...”

Maxwell sounded sick with worry and Drake felt hot anger rise in his throat.

Those fucking nobles. Won’t move a finger to help even one of their own.

Perhaps sensing what Drake’s reaction would be, Maxwell hurried to say, “It’s okay, though, don’t worry! I’m confident we’ll get this done between you, Riley and I! We’ll be unstoppable! We just need a team name and–”

“If you say secret identities I won’t go.”

“Right. I’ll see you here then? There’s a whiskey with your name on it!”

He hadn’t really needed the whiskey to convince him – his friend needed help and that was enough for him – but it was a nice bonus.

“Yeah, be there in like 2 hours.”

“Thank youuuu! Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“I’m gonna hang up now.”

He did so and raced up the stairs. Halfway to his room, a realization stopped him short.

Just me, Maxwell and Addams. Shit. Goddamn it. If nobles weren’t the fucking worst I wouldn’t have to go, but I can’t leave Maxwell hanging.

He threw all his stuff into his bag and hurried to one of the Jeeps that were always available for the royal family and its inner circle.

Before backing out of the manor, he quickly texted Liam, “Heading down today. Tell Bastien”

He knew Liam would be too busy to reply any time soon, so he put his phone down and sped to House Beaumont. He blasted music all the way there, hoping to quiet his conflicting thoughts, torn between excitement and dread.

He parked outside the magnificent estate and was going to text Maxwell that he had arrived, when the doors swung open. Bertrand stood there with his arms crossed and beckoned him with a move of his head.

At your service, he thought, rolling his eyes. He slammed the door of the Jeep and sauntered over to Bertrand, taking his time once he noticed the noble tapping his foot impatiently.

“Drake,” he said curtly, making a decent attempt at hiding his irritation.

Drake had been about to answer with a short, “Bertrand,” until he noticed the dark shadows under Bertrand’s eyes. His face looked pale and drawn; it was obvious he was under a lot of stress.

Okay, okay, I’ll throw him a bone.

“Duke Ramsford,” he bowed his head. He thought he caught a glimpse of Bertrand looking pleasantly surprised before he rearranged his features into a neutral – if exhausted – expression.

“Thank you for coming. Truly. I hope we can trust you to be discreet.”

Drake’s nostrils flared.

Who does he think I am? A noble?

He answered, “Of course,” and pushed his way into the house before he lost his temper.

He went straight into the kitchen, the setting for many a drunken midnight snack with Liam and Maxwell during the latter’s legendary parties. He pushed the door open calling, “Hello? Anyone in here?”

Riley looked up from the counter, where she’d been arranging ingredients and exclaimed, “Drake!” her eyes shining.

Drake’s heart leapt to his throat.

Holy shit, she still looks happy to see me.

The fact was, after last night’s events he hadn’t been sure how she would react. Would she regret everything? Was it just a moment of temporary vulnerability?

Maxwell, meanwhile, and to no one’s surprise, was chanting, “Drake! Drake! Drake! You came!”

Warmth swelled in his chest but he played it down, “Yeah, yeah. Calm down, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Yes, it is! We are friends!” Maxwell bounded up to him and crushed him in hug.

Cheek to cheek, Drake groaned, “You promised me whiskey.”

“Friendship whiskey!”

Maxwell finally let him go and got him a glass of whiskey, which Drake waved away for the moment.

From the counter, Riley said, “Drake, you made it!”

I wish she’d stop sounding so excited. It’s almost enough to make me think...

He raised his eyebrows, “Yeah, yeah, behold your knight in shining armor. Alright, I’m here now. What needs to be done?”

“Riley and I are plating some fancy appetizers,” explained Maxwell, gesturing to a row of neatly plated hors d’oeuvres. “Come join us...”

Avoiding Riley’s gaze, he went to stand next to Maxwell, who quickly demonstrated the steps to prepare their invention. After making a few, Drake went into autopilot. Knowing his mind would drift to places he’d rather not visit, he resorted to something he normally despised: small talk.

“So how was the jamboree yesterday?”

“So fun!” provided Maxwell.

Thank God you can always count on good ol’ Maxwell for a distraction.

Not needing much prompting at all, Maxwell had launched into a full and detailed account of his previous day.

“–so close to winning! But then Liam was called away because of the reporter, so I went with him. Still, my apple-bobbing skills are unrivaled.”

Drake whipped around to look at Maxwell. “What did you say?”

“Oh, come on, Drake, you know you could never beat me! I’m amazing at bobbing–”

“No, before that.”

“Oh, a guard came looking for Liam to tell him about the reporter who snuck in.”

“That’s impossible. No one ever sneaks in!”

“I know! It would have been more impressive if she hadn’t been caught and thrown out though...”

Drake’s mind was reeling. How had a reporter snuck in? Even more importantly, why hadn’t Bastien told him when he’d talked to him this morning? He always informed him of these things.

His thoughts were interrupted by Maxwell’s delighted, “Oooh, these are shaping up! I think we need a good name for these though. Maybe ‘Jewels of the Sea’...”

He looked at their creations lovingly.

“Why not name it the Charade of the Season?” jumped in Riley.

"Heh,” Drake couldn’t help chuckling at that.

Such a dork.

"Oh, snarky. I like it.” Maxwell nodded his approval and took their full trays to the fridge.

He dusted off his hands. “There, that should be enough to get us started. Now then, on to the main course!”

Drake raised a skeptical eyebrow, “Do you even know how to cook from scratch?”

“Well...” Maxwell stalled. His hand suddenly went to his pocket and he checked his phone. He let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank heavens. Bertrand found another company to handle the main courses. Let me tell you, nobody would’ve wanted the science experiments I was about to produce.”

Drake wiped imaginary sweat from his forehead, “Dodged a bullet there.”

“What’s next on the ‘We’re in Panic Mode’ list?” asked Riley, hands on her hips.

Maxwell scratched his chin, “Hmm... I should stay here and clean the kitchen, but Bertrand might need help in the main hall. Last I saw of him, he was looking for cleaning supplies...”

“Oh boy.” Riley tried to make eye contact with Drake, presumably so they could make fun of Bertrand’s helplessness together, but he refused. In fact, this was the perfect opportunity to make sure they didn’t spend more time together than was strictly necessary.

“I’ll stay here and help Maxwell. We’ll come find you once we finish down here.”

Riley’s shoulders slumped, but she nodded and left the kitchen.

Drake and Maxwell got to work in – I can’t believe this! – silence. He couldn’t remember the last time Maxwell had been quiet for this long... not counting chewing time, and even then, not always.

He looked at his friend more closely and saw shadows under his eyes deeper even than his high-strung brother’s. His brow furrowed.

“Hey, man, you okay?”

“Of course! Why do you ask?”

“Well, for one thing, you look like shit.” Maxwell glared daggers at him. Drake shrugged and carried on, “For another, you’ve been wiping that spotless cabinet for the last 5 minutes.”

Maxwell looked down at his circling hand, only now becoming aware of it. He stopped, put the rag over his shoulder and sighed.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. It’s funny; we really are in a tight spot money-wise, but I’m more worried about Bertrand.”

“I can see why; he looks like shit, too.”

Maxwell snapped his rag at him, barely brushing his back just enough to sting.

“Ow! You dick! What was that for?”

“Beaumonts never look like shit.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, you’re right! Us commoners look like shit; you nobles look like feces. Is that better?”

Judging by Maxwell chasing him around trying to hit him again, it wasn’t. Drake was embarrassed by how much he enjoyed just being a guy, doing stupid guy things with his friend. Of course, it took them twice as long as it should have to clean the kitchen, between fits of laughter and rag snapping battles, but they eventually got it done.

"Bertrand just texted me to go help Riley dust a few things. He says you should go to the ballroom and start setting the tables.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” grumbled Drake.

As before, the work was not distracting enough and he was dangerously close to thinking about a certain someone, wearing a certain undergarment. He didn’t think he’d ever been thankful for Bertrand’s presence before. As soon as he stepped into the ballroom, he inspected his work, nitpicked a few things here and there, and chided him for not going fast enough. It was just was Drake needed.

For the next 20 minutes, he worked diligently under Bertrand’s watchful eyes; he couldn’t have spared a moment to think about Riley if he’d wanted to.

That is, until, “It’s looking great!”

The doors opened and in stepped Riley and Maxwell. Drake felt his face muscles twitch and fought the stupid smile that seemed to accompany her into every room she entered.

Dammit, it’s like I forget how beautiful she is and then every time it hits me like sucker punch.

He busied himself with the floral arrangement he was working on when they’d arrived and distantly heard Bertrand assigning activities.

“Lady Riley, if you could assist Drake?”

No!

“Sure!” Riley said brightly and headed over to his table.

She admired his arrangement and teased, “Why, Drake, I never knew you had such flair with peonies...”

Drake shook his head “The things I do for you people...”

He thought of Maxwell’s tired face and decided to voice his concern.

Well, since we’re stuck together, I might as well ask her opinion. Plus it gives us something harmless to talk about.

He lowered his voice. “Hey... anything about any of this seem off to you?”

“Huh?”

From across the ballroom, they heard the brothers arguing.

“What I don’t get is that the money was in our account yesterday!” Bertrand was whisper-shouting.

“I... I don’t know anything about our finances, Bertrand! You know that!”

Maxwell’s eyes were glued to his feet as Bertrand continued to rail on him, “You might not know anything, but you’re still causing me problems! You’re the only other person with access to that account!”

“I...” Maxwell stammered.

“This better not be to pay off one of your idiotic credit card purchases. Last month you said you spent three thousand on a jet ski. What is it this time?”

“I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Maxwell looked like he was barely holding it together.

You have to feel for the guy.

“You’re lucky I don’t have time to deal with you right now,” huffed Bertrand, then turned on his heel and left. Maxwell stood, dazed and alone for a second, before following Bertrand out.

Drake raised an eyebrow at Riley. “Well? Doesn’t it seem like something weird is going on?”

She pursed her lips. “It seemed like there’s something suspicious going on in House Beaumont.”

“Exactly.”

“I wonder what’s actually going on with their money issues...” Her lips were still pursed and her brow furrowed. He’d never seen her look so pensive.

Thank God! Something to focus on!

“I’m going to find out what it is. Besides, it sounds like Maxwell might be in over his head this time. I think he really needs my help... But knowing him, he’d never ask.”

Riley stared, confused, “I didn’t realize you and Maxwell were that close.”

“After all the time I’ve spent with him in the past weeks, I’m starting to find him less annoying,” he smiled.

“High praise,” she replied sarcastically.

“Besides, we scrubbed the kitchen cabinets together. I think I’m invested now.”

Okay, this is fine. We can have silly, meaningless conversations like this. Yes. It’s gonna be fine.

Riley chuckled, “Sure...” Her face abruptly sobered and he noticed she was wringing her hands. She licked her lips and mumbled, “Actually, Drake... there’s something else we should talk about. About last night...”

Nope. No no no, we’re not doing this. I mean, come on, she has to realize how wrong this is, right? I have to give her an out.

He chose to play dumb, “Last night?”

Riley licked her lips once again and spoke so softly, Drake had to strain to hear what she said, “What you said... about how you feel...”

“Riley,” he cut her off, using her first name so she’d know he was serious, “I don’t think we should talk about this here.”

“Then somewhere private?” She looked at him, crushing hope in her eyes.

He swallowed, shaking his head frantically, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” she looked so hurt, self-hatred rose up like lava inside him.

He ran a hand down his face. “The way you look at me sometimes, Addams...” His voice caught.

It’s now or never. Tell the truth for once, if only so you won’t hurt her.

“If we’re alone again together, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop myself from doing something stupid.”

And I would never forgive myself. Liam deserves better.

“Drake...”

She moved her hand towards his on the table when, “Drake! Riley!”

She was so startled, when she put her hand down she knocked her fingers against the table.

“Eep! Er, I mean, yes?”

“Why are you two standing around chatting like ladies at an afternoon tea?” barked Bertrand. “You both said you’d help, so help!”

Drake was torn between relief at having been interrupted and wanting to bite Bertrand’s pompous head off.

What a prick.

“Right away, Duke Ramsford,” said Drake with disdain.

“Yeah. Of course.”

Okay, that’s it. I didn’t come here to be cornered by Addams or to be ordered around by Bertrand. I’m gonna find out what the hell is going on.

He waited for Bertrand to leave the room and the slinked off to where he knew the study was.

He had just started rummaging through a drawer when Riley crept in and asked, “Drake, what are you doing back here?”

He managed to refrain from jumping, but he did shut the drawer closed immediately, scared it might be one of the brothers.

He turned to her. “Addams! So, you followed me, huh?” At this point Drake felt like maybe he was literally turning into two people, as he hadn’t been able to have only one feeling at a time all day. Right now, he was pleased she had followed him and worried about the conversation that might ensue.

He gestured around the room. “This is the Beaumont study.”

“How’d you even know this was here?”

“I used to come to this house a lot, back in the day. We ran in the same circles, being friends with Liam and all that...” explained Drake.

“My sister, Savannah,” goddamn, it’s hard to talk about her, “used to think the Beaumont brothers were the epitome of courtly life. She practically worshipped them.” He rolled his eyes.

“And you didn’t,” said Riley knowingly, moving closer.

Drake allowed himself a small smile. “I found them to be more of an acquired taste.”

“You mean they both annoyed the hell out of you,” laughed Riley.

“Yup. Pretty much,” he chuckled. “Whenever I got tired of their antics, I’d sneak off and come here to their study.”

“So you were the life of the party even back then?” she elbowed him.

“Ha ha. Whenever Savannah found me here, she would try to get me to join in on the fun.” He smiled more, reminiscing about the girl his little sister had been, always eager to see the best in people, to get along with everyone; the exact opposite of him, basically. He sighed. “I don’t even know where she is now.”

“You don’t have any way of finding her?” Riley’s voice was thick with concern.

He shook his head. “She stopped answering my calls and deleted all of her social media. Wherever she is... all I know is that she doesn’t want to be found. Even by me. And you know what?”

He swallowed against the knot in his throat and spoke what he knew to be true, “I don’t blame her. I failed her. I don’t even know how, but I know that I failed her. I didn’t protect her from... from whatever it was that made her leave.”

He gripped the back of a chair until his knuckles were white, willing himself to get it together. He felt a hand rubbing soothing circles on his back. He didn’t think it would make him feel as much better as it did.

Riley murmured, “Drake, maybe she just needs to deal with this on her own.”

“Maybe. But she’s my little sister...” His voice cracked, “I helped her learn how to tie her shoes. It kills me to think there’s something she didn’t think she could trust me with.”

“Do you have any idea what it was about?”

Again, he shook his head.

There’s so much I don’t know.

“She was so happy... and then one day, after one of these Beaumont parties, she wasn’t. She locked herself in her room, and I could hear her crying. A couple days later, all of her things were packed, and she was just... gone.” His eyes felt dangerously wet, so he decided that was plenty of soul-baring for today. “But... that’s enough about that...”

He unclenched his hands and straightened up. Riley dropped her hand. There was an uncomfortable silence. The first time he hadn’t enjoyed a quiet moment with her. There was too much unspoken on his side; trying to make small talk with her would be like swimming through molasses.

Luckily, Riley didn’t seem to feel that way. “So, this is the Beaumont study...” She looked around. “I expected more party hats. I mean, Maxwell lives here, so I figured...” she trailed off.

Drake knew his best bet was to follow this innocent lane of conversation. “It is more on the serious side, isn’t it? I don’t think they changed it after their father passed away. The former Duke Ramsford made it a point to decorate it with the family’s accomplishments.”

He pointed at the walls, covered as they were in first place ribbons and photos of beaming teams holding trophies; and the shelves, which could not have borne the weight of another trophy or medal.

“As you can see, the Beaumont family has a lot to brag about.” He nodded to a prominent picture of Maxwell and Bertrand on horseback.

“I guess Bertrand and Maxwell had a habit of winning.”

“A family tradition.”

Riley grimaced, “I can see why Bertrand is always so worried about upholding the Beaumont name.”

“Their house goes back a long way. I could never pity a rich kid like Bertrand, but I come very close to it sometimes,” Drake agreed. “He’s got a lot of pressure on him. I think his parents gave him a lot of talks about his heritage and Cordonia... And it’s not like Maxwell’s much help with anything.”

“Maxwell tries,” Riley defended him. “Sometimes.”

“Heh. Maxwell’s always been more interested in having fun. He couldn’t care less about prestige and honor. That’s one of the things I like about him, actually.” He smiled at that and forgot about his resolve to avoid eye contact.

Once he made that fatal mistake, he couldn’t tear his eyes from her.

Oh God, I missed the fucking sight of her! I’ve reached peak pathetic.

He was so busy berating himself, he hadn’t registered that her gaze was lingering just as much. When he did, he found it was more than he could bear and he looked down.

She stretched out her hand and touched his arm. He kept his eyes fixed on the hardwood floor.

“Drake, we need to talk about ‘us,’” she said, nervous but firm.

Still staring down, Drake answered in monotone, “There is no ‘us.’”

It felt like someone was squeezing his heart. He knew that, but saying it out loud somehow made it more real... and final.

“I don’t think you mean that,” she near-whispered.

Drake finally looked at her and steeled himself to say everything that had been churning in his head for months. All his guilt, his resentment, his jealousy, his love, all of it.

“The truth is that my best friend is head over heels for you. So it doesn’t really matter how I feel. Because that’s where it has to end. Liam is the only one who’s ever looked out for me. The only one who gave a damn about me after my dad... After he was gone,” his voice trembled embarrassingly.

He took a deep breath and held on to his anger instead, “The rest of the court was ready to cast us out, never mind that he died protecting the royal family.”

Riley’s hand was still on his arm. When he paused she caressed him soothingly, “Drake... I’m sorry. That’s terrible.”

“I didn’t care much,” he shrugged, “but my mom and Savannah... it would’ve devastated them. Liam made sure we had a place at the palace as long as we wanted one. I could never betray him by falling for his girl.”

A little late for that. But I could never do something about it.

“So that’s what it all comes down to, Addams.” He moved away from her and her warm touch. “Whatever I feel... it doesn’t matter.”

The corners of his mouth pulled down and he rubbed his hand against it, hoping to at least get through this with his dignity.

Riley stepped close to him once more.

Damn, she’s stubborn.

“Drake, what about how I feel?”

Drake inhaled so sharply it was almost a gasp.

How she–? Can she mean–?

He couldn’t form coherent thoughts so he wasn’t sure why he decided speaking would be any better. “How you feel... of course I care how you feel. I just didn’t think... I mean... what are you saying, Addams?”

She looked him straight in the eyes and with merely hint of her previous nervousness, said, “I’m saying, I want you.”

Drake’s heart had already been beating faster than usual, but at those words it positively hammered in his chest.

What the fuck do I do? How do I resist that?

He balled his fists and clamped his jaw, trying to force himself to become ice.

“Oh, Addams...” he groaned through his clenched jaw, “you shouldn’t have said that.”

Her eyes were so intense that his jaw went slack. His fists still closed, he took in a ragged breath; every fiber of his being in contradiction between not moving a muscle, or closing the short distance between them now.

“Drake...”

As it turned out, his internal battle was useless; he’d forgotten to take one very important thing into account: Riley did whatever she wanted. Before he could so much as take a breath, she was standing closer than she’d ever been.

And then she was even closer, impossibly so. He could have counted her eyelashes. It took him an instant to understand she was standing on her tiptoes. Then she pressed her lips to his softly and he knew he was lost.

He was too startled to kiss her back, so she withdrew and searched his face, obviously worried that he hadn’t wanted to kiss her. Looking back, Drake would find that absolutely hilarious.

He raised his hand – his fists seemed to have loosened of their own accord – and traced her jawline with his thumb.

He uttered the only word he could possibly think of, “Addams...”

“Yes?” she smiled up at him and the tiny part of his defense that was still up, crumbled then and there.

He let himself want her the way his whole being had been urging him to since practically the day they met.

“I’ve wanted this for so long...” He could barely get the words out through the surge of desire that rushed through him.

She was still standing close, but now that she’d kissed him, he didn’t think anything would be close enough. He pulled her to him tightly and kissed her hungrily, blessedly not thinking for the first time in months.

Her mouth opened and then her tongue was on his and he was so far gone. His hands roamed her back before settling on her hips, which he gripped hard. She’d been running her hands through his hair but now she moved them to his chest. She grabbed and bunched up the fabric of his shirt, trying to get him closer than physics would allow.

Drake broke the kiss, feeling like he had to come up for air. He was breathing as heavily as if he’d just run a marathon.

Riley touched his cheek tenderly. “Drake...”

He had never loved his name more than when he heard it coming out of her swollen lips. Swollen from kissing him.

He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear – he noted with pleasure that she shivered – and whispered, “I didn’t think this would ever be more than a fantasy...”

She looked up again and their lips were almost brushing. With a smile, she asked, “Are you saying that you’ve thought about this before?”

If it hadn’t been for fear of ruining the moment, Drake would have laughed, “More than I’d like to admit.”

He kissed her again, only by now, his thoughts had had time to catch up to him.

This is the last time you ever do this, asshole, so make it count.

He kissed her with the desperate certainty that comes with wanting something you definitely cannot and should not have. He gripped the back of her head tightly, crashing their mouths together. Then he pulled back and held her at arm’s length.

Her eyebrows knitted together. “What’s wrong?”

Where do I start?

“Someone could come in here... One of them might come looking for us... We shouldn’t just...”

It was clear his thoughts hadn’t completely come back to him.

He shook his head. “Even without a drop of whiskey, why do I feel drunk when I’m around you, Addams?”

The kind of drunk you get addicted to. You are fucking intoxicating.

A slow smile spread on her face and there was so much affection in her eyes as she said, “Drake...” and started stepping forward again.

Drake stopped her and then dropped his arms. “Don’t smile at me like that. I don’t deserve it. We shouldn’t be doing this. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He rubbed his face roughly, as if that could wipe out what he’d done. His mind, in the meantime, was chanting, You’re a piece of shit, you’re a piece of shit, over and over again.

Riley chewed on her cheek, her eyes downcast. “Should we leave?”

He stared at her, only this time she was the one who would not meet his eye.

Can you blame her? You blew her off seconds after betraying your best friend. Why wouldn’t she want to leave?

Fuck. I have to tell Liam.

Perhaps wanting to delay that moment, he remembered the reason why he’d originally come into the study. “Soon... but we came in here with a mission, didn’t we?”

She raised her eyes, still avoiding his and gave a hesitant smile. “Something about searching for clues to the Beaumont mystery, I think?”

“Right.”

She turned to the drawers Drake had been inspecting when she’d arrived, while Drake searched through the papers on a smaller desk. He felt it before he saw it: a thick envelope.

“Whoa!” he let out once he’d thumbed through the contents.

“What is it?”

“If I’m not mistaken, this is a fat envelope full of cash!”

He showed it to Riley, whose eyes widened as she saw the stack of bills inside it.

“That’s... that’s what that is, all right. But why is it just here in the study?”

Drake turned it over. “There’s an address on the back... a French address! It looks like someone was going to mail this today.”

She grabbed his arm with urgency. He tried to suppress his body’s ridiculous reactions to her touch. “Drake... This has got to be the missing money that Bertrand was talking about! We’ve got to take it to Maxwell.”

He turned to her, surprised. “Really? You want to trust Maxwell Beaumont with an envelope of cash?”

“Let’s just say I trust him more than I trust Bertrand right now. I’ll text him to meet us here.”

It only took Maxwell a few seconds to burst into the room; he must have been nearby. His face was full of unease.

“What’s up? Your text sounded serious.”

“This is serious,” Riley said. “Drake and I were in here, and we found this envelope full of cash!”

Maxwell’s mouth fell open. “Oh, uh, wow! That... that must be the money that Bertrand was looking for. Thank you. You guys saved my life. Bertrand was ready to kill me over this.”

“No problem.”

Riley shoved the envelope into Maxwell’s hands, which were trembling.

“I think it’s too late to get the staff back, but at least we found it!” His voice sounded more high-pitched than usual.

Riley frowned. “But... how do you think the money ended up here?”

Maxwell gave an elaborate shrug. “Oh, you know, it’s been so crazy lately... Bertrand probably put it here to give to the staff and then forgot about it or something.”

Bullshit. What the hell.

“I don’t think that Bertrand would forget something like that...” He narrowed his eyes at Maxwell who was studiously ignoring his stare.

“Yeah, I’ll have to talk to him about it.”

Drake reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

“You know, you can always tell us if you’re in some kind of trouble.”

“Oh, no more than usual.” He started backing out of the room. “Anyway, thanks for finding it! I owe you guys! But now we better get back to work before Bertrand realizes we’ve stopped cleaning!”

He pocketed the envelope and hurried out of the room.

Drake immediately turned to Riley- “Something is off. You getting that feeling too?”

She had that thoughtful look on her face again, the one that made him want to kiss her.

Well, to be fair, that’s just her face in general.

“Yeah... It seems like Maxwell might be hiding something.”

“And I want to know what it is.”

“Maybe we’ll find more clues while we’re prepping the house?”

“We’ll see. Keep an eye out, but try not to be obvious about it.” He was already going to the door as he said this. He couldn’t be alone with her again.

He heard a faint, “Right,” as he left.

He found Bertrand polishing the banisters. He assigned Drake to one of dining room’s – never mind that they wouldn’t be using it tomorrow. He was glad for the distraction anyway. For the next couple of hours, all he was focused on was getting everything to look immaculate.

He was occasionally interrupted by thoughts of Liam; how he would react when he told him what he did tomorrow, whether it was their end of their friendship...

Every time that happened he threw himself into the work even more vehemently so that by the time he was done, the two rooms he’d tackled looked new.

He thought he’d earned himself a rest – though in his current state it was unlikely to be restful – so he headed to his room.

He’d only just begun his downward spiral with despairing thoughts about himself and his loyalty as he walked down the hallway, when he heard two male voices in Maxwell’s room.

He stopped, trying to decide if the second voice belonged to whom he thought it did. He knocked and opened the door to find Liam talking to Maxwell.

“Liam? What the–?”

“Drake! I got your text, I’m sorry I forgot to respond to it.”

Drake waved his apology off. “S’okay. What are you doing here?” Before Liam could answer, he continued, “Actually, can I speak to you in private?”

“Of course. I was just arranging for Maxwell’s help, but I believe we’re all set?”

“Yep! I will be your waiter for this evening, Your Majesty.” Maxwell gave Liam a sweeping bow.

“Wait, what? Waiter? What do you mean?” Drake looked from one man to the other, totally nonplussed.

Liam gave him a radiant smile and explained, “Oh, Maxwell is being kind enough to help me on my date with Riley tonight. He’ll be our waiter.”

“On your... date?” Drake choked.

“Yes. I realized we’d skipped that part of courting, so I came here early to ask her and she said yes!” Liam’s smile was only getting bigger.

“You already asked her and everything. Cool. Very cool, so fun! Well, I’m gonna go to my room now.”

Liam tilted his head. “Didn’t you want to talk about something Drake?”

“Right. Er, no, not anymore. As it turns out, it’s not as important as I thought it was.”

He hastened off to his room and slammed the door. He threw himself down on his bed.

You coward.

I’m not a coward!

Yeah, right. You know you should have told Liam.

What for?! He’d only be hurt and it’s not worth it! It’s clear Addams is choosing him anyway; why else would she be going on dates? Maybe she was bored and she didn’t think she’d be seeing Liam until tomorrow. Whatever it was, let’s face it: it was only a kiss to her. I’m not going to ruin my friendship with Liam and their relationship just ‘cause it meant more to me.

Fuck this.

#trr #the royal romance #drake walker #drake x mc #prince liam #maxwell beaumont #hana lee #playchoices #choices #pb #pixelberry #fanfic #ch 15 #the marshmallow chronicles #long post

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walkerismychoice · 7 years ago

Text

June - Part 1 (Liam X Drake)

Book: The Royal Romance

Summary: Chapter 2.1 of a 4 chapter series chronicling the months before Drake left for college and his relationship with Liam.

Rating: PG-13+ with some drinking and mature themes

A/N: I intended initially to make each month only one part, but I felt this one needed 2 parts. Also, I envision this to be around 2009, so I tried to keep that in mind in regards to technology and pop culture. There is nothing NSFW yet, but there may be in future parts. In the story, Drake and Liam have both already turned 18 and are legal adults.

Word Count: 2343

Tag List: @laniquelove, @bobasheebaby, @choiceswreckedme, @mfackenthal, @viktoriapetit, @boneandfur, @theroyalweisme, @debramcg1106, @ladynonsense, @hopefulmoonobject, @flynnomalleysPlease let me know if I missed anyone or if anyone wants to be added

Drake stripped off his cap and gown immediately following the graduation ceremony. "I'm so glad to be done with this place."

"It wasn't all bad, was it?" Liam questioned. "You had me, Maxwell, and Olivia, plus most of guys on the football team were cool."

"I don't know if I would put Maxwell and Olivia in the plus column."

"Admit it Drake, no matter how much they annoy you, they are your friends. You will miss us all."

"I'll be just fine seeing Maxwell and Olivia twice a year or whatever on school breaks. That is more than enough. You though, Liam, I will actually miss."

"You know Drake, my father's offer still stands for you to attend university here with me. Think about how much fun we'll have."

"Liam, I can't mooch off your family forever. This is just something I need to do."

Drake was going to miss Liam. So much in fact it hurt to think about it. But that was another reason he needed to go. Neither he nor Liam brought up that night on the football pitch again, but Drake couldn't get it out of his mind. It was absurd, and had to be a fluke, for both of them. So why couldn't Drake just forget about it? His codependency with Liam had reached new heights, tricking Drake into believing he had romantic feelings for Liam. There was no other explanation. Liam was his world, and Drake desperately needed to expand his world apart from Liam.

"It was worth a shot, but there's still time to change your mind. I have a feeling this summer will be epic."

"Speaking of ‘epic’," Drake said, "what's the deal with the party your brother wants to throw for us tomorrow night?"

"My father and Regina will be away on diplomatic matters over the weekend, so Leo wants to throw us a graduation combined with congrats on winning nationals party.”

Leo and Liam weren't particularly close, but Leo had just finished college himself, and liked any excuse for a party. Leo also knew Liam and Drake were a packaged deal, so it was thoughtful of Leo to include Drake. It's not like anyone else would be throwing him a party.

“Should be an interesting night."

"Yes, probably more interesting than our family dinner tonight."

"Well, I'm not technically family so-"

"Drake, you are not getting out of this. Father and Regina are hosting this for us. Savannah and Bastien will be there too."

"Fine," Drake acquiesced. "But we are escaping as soon as we can."

Dinner was as long and dull as Drake imagined it would be. The food was okay, but Drake would be just as happy with a good steak or burger rather than expensive cuisine. And seven courses was at least five too many in his opinion. Two and a half hours later, dessert was finally served, and Drake and Liam were free to go.

"Okay Drake, you were so eager to get out of there. What are your big plans for tonight?" Liam asked.

"Not a clue. Maybe we could take the boat out again." Drake smirked.

"Very funny, Drake. I told you I'm never doing that again after we almost died the last time."

"We were fine after I saved your ass. You know I would never let anything happen to you. How many times have I gotten you out of trouble already?"

Liam cocked an eyebrow. "And how many times did you get me into that trouble in the first place?"

"Fair enough. Since that's out, what do you suggest?"

"Hmm..." Liam paused thoughtfully. "I've got nothing. Why don't we just watch movies or play video games in my room? We haven't done that for awhile."

"Works for me," Drake agreed. Liam had a pretty nice setup in his room and it was one place they were never bothered by palace staff or anyone else. They had been so busy in the last month with exams and football, the two of the hadn't really just hung out together in quite a while. Even though they still hadn't talked about what happened, things didn't seem at all strained between them, so maybe Liam really hadn't thought about it again. Just two guy friends hanging out together. Nothing more to it.

They started off playing FIFA obviously, as they were both obsessed with the sport. They tired of it after awhile and decided to watch a movie on Liam's laptop so they could stream Netflix.

"How about Iron Man?" Liam suggested.

"Sure, I haven't seen that yet. I wonder if they will ever make a Captain America movie?”

"I know you have a thing for him, Drake,” Liam teased. “I've seen the stash of action figures in your room."

"They are collectibles! It's not like I play with them."

"Sure Drake, whatever you say."

Drake threw a pillow at Liam's head. "Just start the movie."

It wasn't uncommon for Drake and Liam to watch movies huddled together on Liam's bed. But it felt different now. Drake tried to keep some distance between them because he wasn't sure where his thoughts would take him if there was any physical contact. This meant Drake had to awkwardly strain his neck to see, and it did not go unnoticed.

"What are you doing over there? Get closer so you can actually see." Liam reached his arm around Drake's shoulder, coaxing him to scoot closer. If Liam was okay with this, Drake could be too. He just had to focus on the movie, and not how good Liam smelled or that every incidental touch lingered on his skin. So far it wasn't working.

“You’ve been quiet, Drake. Where’s all your typical sarcastic commentary?”

"I guess I'm just tired. Thinking I should just go to bed."

Liam placed his hand on Drake's thigh, his soft gaze fixed on him. "Are you sure there's nothing at all you want to talk about"?

Drake felt heat rise in his cheeks, and his heart beat faster. Either Liam was totally oblivious to everything, or he knew exactly what was going on and wanted Drake to say it out loud. Drake was still trying to wrap his head around his own feelings that were admittedly getting harder and harder to deny. He wasn't ready to blurt it all out to Liam and scare him off if it was all one sided.

"Nope, just tired."

"All right then...I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yep, see ya," Drake replied and swiftly retreated to his room.

Drake watched as multiple kegs of beer were wheeled into the palace. "How many people did Leo invite?"

"Well, he invited our entire graduating class, plus a bunch of his college friends and other nobles."

"Great...Is it too early to start drinking?" Drake didn't know what he expected, but he shouldn't have been surprised that every young noble and socialite in Cordonia would be there. It was Leo making the guest list after all. Drake was just hoping for something smaller and more laid back. At least there would be plenty of alcohol to get him through.

The party guests trickled in and before long, the palace was packed, the music was playing, and Drake was a couple beers in and actually starting to enjoy himself. Drake found himself hanging out with Liam, Olivia, Maxwell, and a few of their other noble friends.

"Let's play a game!" Olivia suggested. "How about truth or dare?"

Drake groaned. "You know I hate that game."

"Exactly," Olivia replied. "If you are too afraid to play, you can go drink by yourself because lord knows you don't have the social skills to strike up a conversation with anyone outside of this group."

Drake didn't want to give Olivia the satisfaction. "No, I'll play."

“Okay then, Liam, why don’t you start,” Olivia directed.

“Maxwell, truth or dare?”

“You know I have no fear,” Maxwell asserted. “Dare.”

Liam looked around the room. “I dare you to go hit on one of Leo’s friends. Bonus points if it actually works.”

"I thought you were going to give me a challenge. Watch the master at work."

Maxwell walked up to a petite brunette. They were out of earshot but Drake could see her smiling. "I can't believe it. Is this actually working?" She proceeded to take Maxwell's phone and appeared to be typing her number in it.

Maxwell walked back with a huge grin on his face. "That was too easy. Her name is Jenny and she's an American exchange student."

"Let me see that." Drake grabbed the phone. "Her phone number is 867-5309? Doesn't that sound family, Maxwell?"

The whole group burst out laughing but Maxwell was clueless. "I don't get it."

Liam shook his head. "Maxwell, even I have heard that song one hundred times. Hopefully you can get over your rejection quickly because it's your turn to choose someone."

"I'm sure there will be plenty of other ladies lining up for me, especially after I pull out my break dancing moves. But back to the game, Olivia, truth or dare?"

"Truth." Drake was not surprised. Olivia never held anything back.

"Okay, how many people in this circle have you hooked up with?" Maxwell inquired.

Olivia looked around at the 9 other people in the group. “It depends on how loosely you define ‘hook-up,” but I’m going to say four.”

“Wait,” Maxwell appeared perplexed. “I know about, Nikos, Eleanor, and Luca. Who’s the 4th?”

Drake held his breath. It happened one time and they swore it would never be repeated. He and Olivia were both a little drunk and stupid. The didn’t have sex, but close enough. After that, they went back to outwardly hating each other because it was much easier that way. Drake prayed that Olivia was as afraid to let that secret out as he was.

“Too bad you didn’t ask the right question Maxwell. You only asked how many, not who,” Olivia replied and Drake breathed a sigh of relief he hoped nobody noticed. "Drake, truth or dare?"

Fuck. Of course she would pick him. There was no good option as Drake was sure she would be out to embarrass him either way. He decided on dare, figuring that was the better bet rather than having her try to dig out his deep dark secrets. "Dare, I guess," Drake muttered.

"Excellent. I dare you to kiss Liam...on the lips."

“Not going to happen,” Drake declared. “Try again.”

“Drake I said you didn’t have to play if you don’t want to but a dare’s a dare. You don’t get a options.”

Okay, he didn’t have to make this a big thing. Drake leaned in and gave Liam a quick peck on the lips. “There are you happy now?”

“What even was that? That doesn’t count. Give him a real kiss this time,” Olivia demanded.

Drake tried to protest again, but the whole group was egging him on at this point. This was a terrible idea, but he was starting to feel the alcohol and just wanted to shut everyone up. He grabbed Liam by the shoulders and their lips crashed together. Liam parted his mouth without hesitation and wrapped his arms around Drake, pressing their bodies close together. That probably would have been enough to satisfy Olivia, but Drake got lost in the moment and kissed Liam deeper. Liam could have pushed Drake away at any time but he responded with equal hunger, all the sexual tension between them dissipating into one another. Drake came back to reality and abruptly ended the kiss. Liam stood silent and motionless, matching the rest of the crowd who seemed uncertain of what they had just witnessed.

“My god Drake, do you and Liam need to go get a room?”

“Shut up Olivia. I just did what you wanted. Although I probably do have a better shot with him than you ever will. I’ve had enough of this game already. I’m out.” Drake walked away and into the kitchen where the kegs were to get another beer. He sat down at a table alone to try and get drunk enough to forget how much he liked kissing Liam and how obvious it probably was to everyone who saw.

“Drake Walker, sulking by himself...what an unexpected surprise.” Leo’s tone was dripping with sarcasm. “You look like you could use something stronger than beer.” Leo pulled out a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses.

“No thanks, I usually stay away from the hard stuff.”

“Have you tried this? Come on, I think you’ll like it.” Leo poured them each a shot. Drake took the shot and immediately started coughing. Leo laughed and poured him another shot. “The second one usually goes down easier than the first. Lets try this again.”

Drake downed the second shot. “It burns less this time. I guess it doesn’t taste so bad.”

“So you want to talk about whatever has you down?” Drake shook his head no. “Good because I really didn’t want a listen, but maybe I can cheer you up another way. Hey Sophie come here.” Leo motioned over a pretty blonde girl about Leo’s age. “Sophie, this is Drake, my brother’s best friend and guest of honor number two. He needs some cheering up.”

“Hi Drake. You are pretty cute...are you 18 yet?”

“Yep. Have been for half a year.” Drake replied, oblivious at the time as to why this was relevant. He still wasn’t really up for conversation, but she kept talking and he didn’t ask her to leave. Before he knew it, she was asking Drake to take her back to his room. He was sober enough to realize what was happening, but drunk enough to not care that it was an impulsive decision. They passed back through the room where the group was still playing drinking games. Out of the corner of his eye, Drake saw Liam watching him walk out with Sophie. He didn’t dare turn back to check the expression on Liam’s face. It was better not to know.

#playchoices #the royal romance #drake x liam #my fic #long post

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pug-bitch · 6 years ago

Text

That’s not why I’m going (29)

Share her air

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake Walker x Amara Suarez

Rating: some foul language, some extremely suggestive. This is NOT appropriate for people under 18.

Word count: about 3,400 (let me know if the ‘keep reading’ cutoff isn’t working well!)

Notes: This picks up the same day as last chapter, as everyone arrives in Penelope’s estate, starting with Amara’s POV.

*****

She gets out of Bertrand’s car, which she decided to ride in so as to not raise suspicions. Bertrand was delighted to have company and talked her ear off for the whole trip, which Amara was grateful for. It was a nice distraction from all the stressful thoughts she was trying to push down.

Another nice change is that, ever since he realized that Amara and Drake were a thing, Bertrand had stopped pushing the competition onto her. Not that she blamed him for doing so in the first place, since it was seemingly what she was here for, but it was a welcome change of pace.

Maxwell, Hana, Olivia and Drake have already arrived, all four of them stacked in Maxwell’s towncar. Bertrand was obviously less of a speeder than his little brother. The group barely has time to reunite and exchange pleasantries that Penelope is already coming out to greet them. She gives everyone a genuine hug and squeals when Hana and Amara’s turn comes along.

‘Girls! You’re wearing my house colors! How thoughtful!’

Amara smiles at Hana, who was definitely the thoughtful one: she remembered to pack Amara’s purple sundress from Ramsford.

‘You look lovely, Penelope,’ Amara says. ‘I love how you did your hair.’

‘Oh, thank you! My mom helped me. Come meet my parents, they’re dying to meet you!’

*****

‘This view is gorgeous,’ Amara says as she joins Olivia on the balcony.

‘Mhmm. It’s nice.’

Relaxed Olivia hadn’t lasted very long. She basically tensed up again the minute Liam walked in yesterday, and her stress level hadn’t gone back down. Amara desperately wanted to lift her spirits. ‘How about Penelope’s dad, huh? Talk about a DILF.’

Olivia snorts, ‘Ew, Suarez. Keep it in your pants. Unless you want it on a picture under a brunch plate.’

Alright, dishing about hot dads didn’t work. She sighs and responds, ‘You know I wouldn’t fuck Penelope’s dad, Liv. I was joking around. He’s just hotter than expected, that’s all. Even Maxwell says so.’

‘Maxwell is not a reference for good taste. I thought you were, though. Not that you know who is my taste, but I can respect it.’

Amara chuckles. ‘I remember the first time you told me you were on to me. How you said that you suspect that he’s good in bed because of all his pent up anger.’

Olivia finally lets out a faint laugh. ‘Ha. He doesn’t seem so angry anymore, though. You melted him, Suarez. Also, I vaguely remember that conversation, and I think we had both drinks and cigarettes for it. Right now we have neither. So, please don’t make me gossip with you sober.’

‘Oh, come on, Liv,’ Amara teases her, ‘you probably still have a slight buzz from the wine we had at lunch, right?’

Olivia looks at her wistfully. ‘I’m tired, Suarez. I don’t know why I’m here anymore. What’s even the point? I won’t get chosen. Not after… Ugh. Don’t make me talk any longer, please.’

Amara sets down her glass of apple cider. ‘Alright. I won’t make you talk, but I can make you listen.’

‘That’s even worse--’

‘Shh,’ she interrupts. ‘I get that you’re tired of this charade, believe me, I get it. More than you know. But also, so what if you don’t get chosen? Your whole life doesn’t depend on Liam and his every whim. You’re Olivia Fucking Nevrakis, for crying out loud, and if you can breathe…’

Olivia takes a deep breath. ‘Yeah yeah, I know. I just… don’t really wanna stand right now. Or fight.’

‘Then just breathe. That’ll be good for now.’

Olivia looks at her and Amara could swear she saw a smile curl up her lips, but it’s gone very quickly. She looks down at Amara’s glass and says ‘Give me your cider. I finished mine.’

She rolls her eyes and hands her the glass. ‘You’re a pain in the ass, Nevrakis.’

‘Ladies, don’t fight over one glass of cider, it has no booze in it, it’s not worth it.’

In their banter, Liv and Amara had not heard Rashad approach. ‘Oh, hello, Rashad,’ Amara says with a smile. ‘You’re right, it’s really not worth it. Don’t tell anyone I’ve been ragging on Cordonian apples, though…’

Rashad makes a zipper gesture over his lips. ‘No one will hear it from me. How are you both doing?’

Amara waits for Olivia to say something, but she just stares at the view. So, Amara replies, ‘We’re good, thanks. I was just going to find something to snack on, I’ve been eyeing the little puff pastries over there. Good to see you again, Rashad!’

‘Bon appétit,’ he says enthusiastically.

Amara waves at Liv whose eyes are shooting daggers at her. Amara stands by her decision to leave them alone. Olivia can still breathe, and she can share her air with a handsome guy, too.

*****

Liv can’t believe that Suarez left her alone with Rashad. Not that she doesn’t want to see him, but her manoeuvre was not smooth. She has to go because she needs a puff pastry? Please.

‘How is it going, Liv?’ he asks, moving closer to her on the balcony ledge.

‘Good, can’t complain. You?’

He nods. ‘Same. Can I ask you a question?’

She hesitates. ‘Go ahead.’

‘Did I do something to offend you? You can tell me.’

‘Is it because I didn’t answer your text? You said you were gonna be here, so I didn’t see the point of--’

He cuts her off. ‘No. I didn’t send it expecting an answer. I just wanted to tell you I’d be here. But um… you’re acting like you don’t want my company, and I was hoping we could hang out. I’d rather know now if you just want me to get lost. I can take it.’

She turns to him. He has the smile of a smooth operator, and an honest guy all wrapped up in one. She feels a slight butterfly in her stomach, which she wishes she could kill by contracting her abs.

Fuck, she thinks. She wants to tell him to get lost, she really does. But that evening in his company was something she would like to repeat, as hard as it is for her to admit, even to herself. Especially to herself.

‘I don’t want you to get lost. That’s just me. I think you’re aware that I was grateful for your presence and I enjoy your company. I didn’t think I needed to spell it out for you.’

It came out a lot more aggressive than she intended it to. Rashad smirks, and throws his hands up. ‘Touché. I’m the one acting like a needy child, I apologize. I shouldn’t have asked.’

‘Good thing you’re self-aware.’

He laughs. ‘One of my best qualities, Nevrakis. So, what have you been up to?’

She shrugs. ‘I was invited to a barbecue last night, so that’s what I’ve been doing.’

‘A barbecue? That sounds refreshing.’ He loosens his tie. ‘I can’t take these events anymore. Don’t get me wrong, Portavira is beautiful and I’m enjoying the company, but I wish the setting were less formal. I could go for a burger right about now.’

Olivia lets out a small chuckle. ‘Yeah, well you chose to be here.’

‘True. Not for the food, or the atmosphere, though.’

She falls silent. Is he openly hitting on her? It sure feels like it. She doesn’t know how to deal with it. It’s been so long since she was the one being courted by anyone. She usually has the upper hand, from the get go, and is the one choosing to pursue a man. Usually, successfully.

Or, in the case of Liam, unsuccessfully, for decades.

Rashad obviously notices her awkward silence, and continues. ‘I’ve been told about this other show by the Killing Eve creator, would you have any interest in checking it out sometime?’

Liv nods hesitantly. ‘Why not. Are there murders?’

He laughs. ‘I don’t think so. But the same writer, so...must be brilliant. You in? Or are you just in for the murders?’

‘Eh...I could be swayed.’

‘Cool. Also, you made me crave a fucking burger, thank you very much.’

‘Not my intention, Domvallier, but sorry anyways.’

‘There’s a place not far from here. A few miles away, by downtown.’ He types something on his phone. ‘Oh, and look, it’s open until 1am. After dinner tonight, I’ll sneak out to grab a burger and a shake, if anyone is interested.’ He downs his cider, smiles at her and walks away. ‘See you around, Nevrakis.’

*****

Drake looks at himself in the bathroom mirror, as he washes his hands. He takes a deep breath. So far, so good, right? He cracks his neck. He’s so fucking tense all of a sudden. He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, for anything to go wrong. He keeps looking over his shoulder, and he knows he should appear more normal, but he just can’t help it.

The hardest part is trying not to look at her. Especially in that dress. Even if he’s not looking at her at all, even if his back is to her, she still destroys him with everything she does. Earlier, he was talking to Liam, and she was behind him, chatting with Penelope and her mother, Emmeline. When he heard Amara’s laugh, just for a second, he lost his train of thought and a million butterflies took laps in his stomach.

He can’t stop thinking about their weekend at the cabin. About how natural it all felt. About their hands intertwined over the dinner table. Their bodies enmeshed together, in the kitchen, in the backyard, in the bedroom, in the shower. Their endless conversations, their shared laughter, their deep talks about their families, their hopes and dreams.

He’s gonna have to stop washing his hands at some point.

As he’s about to open the bathroom door, there’s a knock. Weird. He and Amara had agreed to keep a low profile, so no sneaky bathroom rendezvous. He hesitates, and opens the door slowly.

‘Let me in.’

Bastien pushes himself into the bathroom and locks the door behind the two of them.

‘Wow, what’s going on,’ Drake asks.

‘Shh. I wanted to talk to you in private. We don’t have much time.’ Drake nods and listens. ‘Be discreet this week. All eyes are on her. She’s the biggest contender, the slightest faux pas and it’s a scandal. Got it?’

Drake nods. ‘I know. We know. Is there something you should tell me?’

Bastien sighs. ‘I’ve managed to keep you out of it so far, but I don’t know how long I can keep it up, Drake. All you need to know is, there are things that I couldn’t stop. They’re happening. You’re gonna need to be there for her after this weekend.’

Drake shakes his head in disbelief. ‘Wh--what? What things? Is anything coming out about Amara?’

Bastien gestures for Drake to stop talking, and listens through the door. ‘Kiara is approaching, you need to get out. Just stay alert. Ok?’

He pushes Drake through the door before he can say anything else. He can’t deal with even greeting Kiara right now, so he walks in the opposite direction, towards the hallway, where he paces, alone, for too long to not be suspicious.

What does Bastien mean? What could be coming out? Should he warn Amara? Or would it only serve to stressing her out?

‘What are you doing?’ Maxwell interrupts his nervous pacing.

‘Oh, um, nothing. I needed a second.’

Maxwell seems to register that Drake is fully hyperventilating. ‘Good Lord, Drake, let’s go for a walk.’

Max smiles at him and puts a guiding hand on his back, which Drake finds himself feeling grateful for. They walk out the door and towards the gardens, Maxwell’s comforting hand still on his shoulder. ‘Thanks man. I was losing my shit in there,’ Drake says as soon as they’re away from prying ears.

‘Are you ok? You wanna talk about it?’

Drake fills him in, in whispers, all the while looking all around for eavesdroppers. Max’s face falls. ‘Fuck,’ he says, his voice cracking slightly. ‘What did he mean, dammit? What are they gonna do to her?’

Drake shakes his hand, worried that, if he talks too soon, his voice might crack too. ‘I don’t know. I have no idea what they have on her, and Bastien seems to say that no one knows about us, so it can’t be that.’

‘Drake?’ Maxwell asks, looking away at the distance.

‘Hm?’

‘If there’s anything that hurts her, anything at all, you and I need to take her and leave. We’ll go to Paris, we’ll find your sister together. Or somewhere else, I don’t care. We need to protect her, ok?’

Drake’s eyes fill with tears. He must fight them, he thinks. All he can do is nod and avoid Max’s gaze.

Maxwell continues, ‘She’s like my sister, Drake. I saw what this fucked up situation did to Hana, and we were lucky because she bounced back. But Amara… she’s been through enough. I don’t want her to be exposed to anything more.’

Drake can’t fight those tears anymore. They fall on his face, all at once. He doesn’t know what to say, he’s just overwhelmed by everything: stress, guilt, love, friendship. So, he does what anyone would do: he wraps Max in a bear hug.

*****

‘Where are the boys?’ Hana asks, delicately nibbling on a small puff pastry.

Amara found it sweet how she always referred to Drake and Max as ‘the boys’, as if they were her kids, which, on some level, they kind of were. Amara looks around and replies, ‘No idea, I haven’t seen them in a hot minute.’

Hana nods, ‘I need to find Liam. To check on him, I promised.’

Amara feels a pang in her chest. The guilt is back. She and Drake have been dreading every interaction with Liam lately, even more so today, after he opened up to them about Madeleine and the Bastien investigation. She and Drake are sitting on so much information that they can’t share --or won’t share?-- with him, it’s making her sick. Still, she can’t even imagine how Drake must feel about hiding so much from his best friend.

‘Go,’ she tells Hana, ‘I’ll see you later, ok?’

Hana has barely left that Liv is already standing right next to Amara, almost giving her a jumpscare. ‘I’m gonna kill you,’ she says, not helping the scary situation.

‘Jeez, Liv, you probably are, if you keep giving me small heart attacks.’

Olivia gets closer and lowers her voice. ‘Why the fuck did you leave us alone?’

Amara smirks. ‘How was it?’

‘Ugh, you’re unbearable, Suarez. We talked for like two minutes, so you accomplished nothing.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

Liv lowers her voice some more. ‘He invited me to sneak out after dinner and have a burger.’

Amara cannot contain her excitement, and her smile betrays how she feels about the two of them getting together. ‘Are you gonna go? Please tell me you’re gonna go.’

Liv shrugs. ‘I don’t know. It’s definitely risky to sneak out of the estate, but at this point, I’m not sure I care if anyone sees me. It’s not like I’m doing anything wrong.’

‘Yet,’ Amara chuckles, her eyebrows raised playfully.

Oh shut up, you perv. Besides, I’m not like you or Walker, I can’t be bought with a circle of meat and some cheese.’

Amara bites her lip in order not to laugh. A circle of meat? What a weird way to describe a hamburger patty. ‘Yeah, plus, you had a burger last night, it would be a shame to repeat menus,’ she says sarcastically.

Olivia raises an eyebrow and breaks into a small smile. ‘Well, he also promised a shake, so that’s new.’

*****

‘I really appreciate this, Hana, you have no idea how much I needed the escape,’ Liam says, visibly more relaxed than yesterday already.

They left the estate to go wander in the gardens, and no one batted an eye. Ever since the picture of Caroline and her surfaced, Hana noticed that everyone stopped seeing her as a threat. Which was, probably, exactly the effect that was seeked by the person who did this.

In any case, she appreciated the sense of invisibility, after the whole scandalous aspect, so the joke was definitely on them.

‘Of course,’ Hana responds. ‘You seemed like you needed to talk, yesterday. You must have been disappointed that Drake was not around.’

Liam nods, looking at his feet. ‘I was.’ He pauses for a brief moment, and Hana waits for him to continue. She knows there’s more. ‘If I’m being honest, I feel very neglected by my friend. We’ve been close for years, by each other’s side through thick and thin. And now…’

Hana nods, and asks, ‘You feel like you’re growing apart.’

‘Exactly. I don’t know what it is, but I have a few guesses. Could be that I’m becoming king, sooner than we thought, and it definitely went to my head a bit.’

Hana’s heart breaks a little. ‘Don’t judge yourself too harshly. It’s a lot to take in. Especially with your father’s diagnosis, and all.’

‘Yes. It’s been rough. But even before I found out about my father, it went to my head. Specifically this,’ he gestures at the estate with all the festivities, ‘the competition.’

Hana gives him a sweet smile, ‘Whose head would it NOT go to? People are lining up for your hand, Liam. It’s a lot of attention, and there is no perfect way to handle it.’

Liam chuckles, ‘Well, my way certainly wasn’t perfect.’ He stops walking, and Hana follows suit. He looks at his coffee cup before taking a small sip, too small for him to taste anything. Obviously to gain time. ‘You must have heard,’ he adds. ‘You and Amara are close. I behaved in a very crass way with her. That might be why Drake is so distant. He’s always disapproved of my relentlessness with women, and this time, well, it was directed towards someone he cares about.’

Hana’s heart skips a beat. She needs to be very careful about what she says next. Pick her words, so she doesn’t lie, but doesn’t give them away either. ‘Drake is a caring friend. Amara and I have grown to care about him as well, and about Maxwell too. They’ve been a tremendous source of support through an intense situation.’

Liam smiles wistfully. ‘Drake is an amazing friend. So is Max.’

Hana lets the silence sit for a while, and then says, ‘So, if you could have talked to Drake yesterday, one on one, what would you have said to him?’

‘Heh, I’m not even sure. Probably that I’m feeling lost, that I don’t know what to do anymore. I feel alone.’ He stops and resumes his walking. Hana follows again. She feels for him, and if she can give him a tiny bit of companionship today, she will. And the next days, if he needs it. ‘Hana, I used to think I knew what’s gonna happen this weekend. But now I don’t.’

Hana notices that Liam’s hands are shaking. ‘It’s normal to be unsure. It’s your life we’re talking about. Your future.’

‘Yeah,’ he nods. ‘I used to be sure, though. As soon as I lay my eyes on her, in New York. When I saw her at the Debut Ball in Cordonia. I knew I wanted her.’

Hana sighs. She knew he was smitten with Amara, but she didn’t know how bad it was. Truly, he was bad at reading signals, because Amara had given him very little indication that she was interested ever since she’d arrived. Still, she needed to comfort him. ‘It must be tough. But you’ll find someone else, someone who loves you.’

‘Do you believe this, Hana?’ His voice is now filled with tears that he won’t let fall. ‘I have to choose a wife on Saturday. Saturday, as in five days from now. Amara is not in love with me. Liv is having sex with her bodyguard.’

‘Which doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you, Liam. Come on, you know her. And you have to realize that what happened between her and Ilya was physical.’

He nods, visibly calming down. ‘Maybe. But she refuses to talk to me, now.’

‘Maybe she’s embarrassed. Maybe you’ve even made her feel embarrassed.’

He lets out a long sigh. ‘You’re right. I told myself I needed to perform a grand gesture, because I’ve taken Liv for granted for years. Maybe now’s the time.’

*****

Taglist:

@drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @jovialyouthmusic @notoriouscs @andy-loves-corgis @mariahschoices @drakesensworld @thequeenofcronuts @drakewalkerisreal @alesana45 @nikkis1983 @simsvetements @iplaydrake @emceesynonymroll @lily1999love @drakewalkerwhipped @drakewalkerrosenberg @drakxwalker @drakeswalkers @drakelover78 @silviasutton1989 @dcbbw @carabeth @furiousherringoperatortoad @hollygirl1269 @sirbeepsalot

Thank you for your encouragements, everyone! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

#dramara #drake x amara #drake walker x amara suarez #drake x mc #drake walker #drake walker x mc #drake walker trr #trr drake #drake trr #the royal romance #the royal romance fanfic #choices fanfiction #trr fanfic #that's not why i'm going

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resetmypatientviolence · 7 years ago

Text

Dammit Drake (Drake x MC)

Pairing: Drake x MC (Jaela)

Rating: T

Word Count: 2043

Warnings: Language; Angst… then fluff

Suggested Song Accompaniment: Luving U– 6LACK

Summary: Jaela wants to make Drake see that everything, although not what they wanted for their wedding, is going okay. But when Drake slips up and says the one word he shouldn’t, can she forgive him– and shake off the feeling that something deeper is gnawing at him?

Notes: I swear there’s fluff in here. It’s cute, too. Just get through the angst. Takes place at Kiara’s estate from the latest chapter. And apologies if Tumblr Mobile is being a dick with read mores.

“But…”

Jaela sighed, taking his hand. “You’re doing just fine, Drake. Nobody will be able to tell you weren’t a noble soon enough.” She thought the words would bring comfort, but the shifting expression of Drake’s face under the light of Kiara’s estate told a different story.

“That’s… that’s never what I wanted, Abdi. To be one of them.” He withdrew his hand, turning from her to gaze across the vineyard, gripping the railing tight. She didn’t like how her stomach twisted, but she joined him, gentle breeze blowing their hair. His grandmother’s ring sparkled.

“I… I know,” she whispered. “But… this is what’s happening, Drake. We can’t take it back. The people are depending on me and… and I’m not going to back down from this. Not now.” Were there reservations about being a Duchess? Of course. She mulled them over every night. But, the good always outweighed the bad. She was a waitress in New York wanting to do something, but having no means to. Now, she could make a difference, one step at a time. Right now, this meant uniting Cordonia for their wedding and finding out who was attacking the country from the inside out. Though… Jaela bit her lip. There was one regret.

Drake ran a hand through his hair, glancing at her. “I know,” he said. “I can’t stop you, Abdi. You were made for this. But me? Do you really think anybody will take me for my title? That they won’t look right through it and think I’m just a commoner who got lucky, one who never tried to pretend to care?”

She went to answer, but he was quicker. “Don’t lie to me, Abdi.”

Jaela frowned. “Fine, okay, they probably won’t,” she said, harsher than she intended it to be. “But you’ve been trying. I’ve been doing my best to keep the public—and other nobles—happy and on our side. You just need to be you, Drake.”

He snorted, leaning against the railing, looking down at her. “Yes, but say just the right things, know which fork to use, pretend that everything is okay, suck up so we can get these people we barely know to attend our stupid, damn royal—or whatever it is– wedding and—” Jaela’s jaw dropped as he ranted, hands gesturing wildly. Stupid, damn wedding. Was that how he felt? Suddenly, he stopped, face flush. “You know what, I’m tired of wine. Where’s the whiskey?”

When he turned, Jaela spoke, tone hushed, hands quivering. “I thought everything was okay, Drake.” The sneaking into each other’s rooms, the stolen moments—everything was so happy to her when they had those times. Nothing seemed wrong. It was just right, even if they had to deal with everything on the outside, always melting away when she was with him.

His footfall was heavy. Hands in pockets, Drake sighed deeply and turned back around, eyes widening at her tear glossed eyes. “Aw, Abdi, we’re fine. Everything’s okay with us. Just…”

“It’s clearly not if you’re acting like this, like… like…” God, she hated being upset, so close to tears. He was the only one who could bring that locked away side of her.

“Abdi, don’t—”

“Like you don’t even want our stupid, damn wedding to happen,” Jaela said, wringing her hands together. It weighed on her mind, his hesitance. Of course, how much was that just her imagination—or hell, even caused by her, suggesting a wedding to unite them all in the glow of post-engagement, not thinking anything through.

Drake touched her arms, thumbs rubbing back and forth. Usually a comfort, but the perceived truth, out in the open, made her mouth dry and skin numb to his touch. “I do… but… but it’s almost too much. We… we could have talked about what we wanted instead of… doing what we’re doing now.”

“What else was there to do, Drake?” she snapped, stepping back. “Listen, I appreciate that you’re trying but looking at what’s supposed to be the happiest day of our life like tha—”

“How can it be the happiest day of my life when there’s all these people who’ve judged us this entire time there, watching us, thinking that this is the solution to a serious issue at hand?” Drake said, shaking his head, voice strained. Jaela’s nostrils flared; hurt morphing into anger. “I don’t care about them. You don’t care about them—”

“What if I do, just a bit, Drake? If every bit of support means we can help—”

“Well, I only care about you, Abdi. Excuse my hesitance to invite people who used to—and still do, when I’m not looking—look at me as nothing more than a commoner. The both of us.” He turned suddenly, rubbing his cheek, muttering something under his breath.

Jaela approached him, eyes narrowed. Oh, he knew she hated that. “What did you say?”

Drake ignored her, heading to the door. “Nothin’ important, Abdi…”

“Important enough for you to still say it,” she reasoned, arms crossed. Drake looked to the floor, sighing, lips moving again. “Drake!”

He didn’t speak up, so Jaela moved closer to him and finally caught what he said, his face red. “I don’t know, maybe this was a mistake.”

She couldn’t even gasp. Only staring, Drake cringed when he met her eyes. “It’s not like that, Abdi. Please don’t cry.”

Lower lip trembling, Jaela ground her heel in the wood, doing her best to keep a brave face, somehow. How could she? Her fiancée expressing doubts about… everything. She could handle the Duke situation. Him not being who he was, it made sense and she always tried to soothe his fears. Even the rushed wedding. But being married to her? Everything seemed so sure, after everything they’ve been through. They promised to never lie, ever. And yet… couldn’t he have pretended? The ring on her finger so, so heavy. She couldn’t break down. Not now. It was nothing, right? “I think it’s best that we actually sleep in separate rooms tonight.”

“Aw, come on Abdi, you don’t want to try and scar Madeleine again?” he attempted to joke, offering a half smile. Jaela narrowed her eyes to slits.

Grabbing her purse from the table, she turned with a snap, speaking coldly. “I think joking is in bad taste after you say getting engaged to your fiancée was a mistake.”

“I didn’t—”

“I have diplomacy lessons with Liam now. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, she shut the doors behind her. Please let there be more wine. Thankfully, Liam didn’t disappoint.

She lay on her side, the idea of sleep a worse joke than Drake’s attempt in the evening. Jaela stared out the window; moonlight pouring in in slits crossing her body. At least the bed was comfortable to stare and do nothing for hours on end. But still, her mind raced. Dammit Drake.

God, she loved him. Did part of her know that he didn’t mean it? Yes. Did another part of her wonder why he said it—and how much he was holding back from her? Yes, and louder. It hurt, the words stinging like salt ground into an open wound. Mistake, mistake, mistake. Fuck, if only she could sleep and pretend it was a nightmare.

Her left hand glittered, the ring fit so perfectly, like they were meant to be. But… if they weren’t…. “Crazy talk,” she murmured, shutting her eyes. Tomorrow, things would be better. Hopefully. She’d still regret the wedding they should have had, the one she so desperately wanted if everything was different.

No mysterious dutchy to live in, just somewhere out in the forest; no mass of strangers staring at her and him, just them outside with all of their best friends; no huge affair and the public fussing over her every move, just Drake kissing her at night and telling her how excited he was to marry to her.

The door creaked open. Opening her eyes, Jaela listened for the familiar footfalls. Of course, Drake. But she didn’t move, even as the sound of a robe landing on the floor happened and Drake slid in beside her, cautious. Eyes now shut, his hand floated to her side, body warm against her back. “Hey, I know you’re awake, Abdi.”

No answer.

“I’m sorry for saying that. I… I didn’t mean it the way you took it. I know that doesn’t help but…” No, it doesn’t. Lips across the back of her neck, hand skimming down her left arm, finding her hand.

Still, no answer—but Jaela opened her eyes, goose bumps rising. No, don’t give in yet girl.

“I felt so bad. I’ve wanted nothing more than you, Jaela. I just wish things were… were on our terms.” Yes and good point, but that still doesn’t make up for what you said. “I know you agree with that, even if you’re giving me the silent treatment. That I deserve, by the way.”

He played with her fingers, tracing each one, kisses across her shoulders and up to her cheek, breath like fire. Her lips twitched, wiggling her fingers in response to his light touches, now playing with her ring. “Maybe we rushed into this, into making our wedding an affair for everybody to witness. Really, I’d marry you right now if I could. I should have just taken you to a courthouse right then and there and we’d be Mr. and Mrs. Walker already. Hell, we should just take off now… don’t worry, I know we can’t. But do you have any idea how many times I’ve thought about doing that this entire tour?” You need to stop saying things like that if you expect me to give you the proper silent treatment, Mr. Walker.

Slowly, deliberately, his nail traced a line back and forth against the engagement ring. Like he was seeking another ring to trace. Another band. A wedding band. Her breath caught. Carefully, Jaela turned her head to meet his gaze, so warm and full on her. She wiggled her ass against him and he chuckled, kissing her forehead. “What are you doing that for?”

“Hmm?” He raised an eyebrow but didn’t stop tracing her finger. “This?” Jaela nodded, eyes imploring for an answer. “Oh… just imagining what’ll feel like to have a wedding band there.”

Holding back a grin, Jaela relaxed her head against the pillow. “So, you do want to marry me, mistake and all?”

Smirk falling, Drake paused, squeezing her hand before repeating the same motion. “You’re never a mistake. I’m the idiot who says things that aren’t true after we said no lies. It’ll take a while to train me as a Duke. But that’s why you’ll do all the talking and I’ll be your, ah, side piece, right? That’s what they say?”

Giggling, Jaela gripped his hand, shaking her head. “Close enough. But point taken. It’s good thing you’re mine then, I don’t know who else would put up with you.”

“You’re not exactly a piece of cake either, Abdi,” he laughed, kissing her lips, hand going to her hips, turning her, and deepening the kiss.

This lasted for a few minutes, Drake pressing her to the bed, running his hands all over her until she stopped him, pulling the blankets up around them, head on his chest, listening to the beating of his heart, her favorite sound. “No scarring Madeleine in the morning?”

“I’d rather cuddle,” she whispered, shutting her eyes, sleep tugging on her for the first time tonight. “I like listening to your heartbeat.”

“Mm…” Drake held her closer, fingertips brushing her cheek.

“Drake?” Jaela whispered a few minutes later, sleep swirling in and out. Hopefully he was awake.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you, for trying…. It’s hard for me too. But…”

“No buts. We’re in this together. We have our in-between moments, like these.”

“Just… just don’t hold anything back from me, okay? I want to be there for you, through everything, okay? Promise?”

Drake sighed—content or worried?—and Jaela threw a leg over him, nuzzling closer. “Promise…” Drake whispered, holding her left hand as they drifted off to sleep, Madeleine, still, somehow shocked when she opened the door and found the two in bed—again.

Disclaimer: All rights and characters belong to Pixelberry Studios.

#trr #the royal romance #trr 3 #playchoices #choices #choices fanfic #playchoices fanfic #drake x mc #drake x jaela #trr fanfic #the royal romance fanfic #drake x walker #play choices

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harrytomylou · 4 years ago

Text

I won’t give up on us, even if the skies get rough.. - Harry/Louis

* I’m posting old fanfictions that I wrote onto this account simply because I want to keep them for myself *

No Trigger Warnings

When I look into your eyes, it’s like watching the night sky, or a beautiful sunrise, there’s so much they hold..

Harry always knew there was something that the older boy was keeping from him. From them. The band. Louis was never open about his secrets, thoughts or feelings. The boys all knew what they had to. Nothing more and nothing less and Harry hated it. Because some days Louis was distressed. Upset, confused and irritable and Harry could do nothing about it because he didn’t know why. He’d asked Louis. Many times. But it would always turn out the same.

‘Hey.’ Louis whispered as he sat down on the sofa next to Harry, knees pulled up to his chin.

‘You alright?’ Harry glanced at Louis, concern lacing his words. Louis sighed, blinking rapidly to stop the tears in his eyes from falling as he nodded. Harry raised one of his eyebrow slightly before opening up his arms and watching as the vulnerable boy hesitated slightly before losing his ‘joker’ act completely and breaking down against him. Harry sighed as he rubbed the older boys back, wishing he would tell Harry what was wrong. But he wouldn’t. He never did.

‘Shh, Lou’ He muttered over and over into his best friends ear rocking him slowly. After about 10 minutes Louis’ sobs slowly came to a stop.

‘Sorry.’ He muttered into Harry’s shoulder.

‘Don’t be, Lou.’ Harry replied softly. ‘What’s wrong?’ He tried.

‘I…’ Louis paused, biting his lip for comfort. ‘I’m just so confused.’

‘About what, Boo? Maybe I could help you?’

‘You can’t. No one can.’ Louis muttered back brokenly before burying his head back into the younger’s chest.

And just like them old stars, I see that you’ve come so far, to be right where you are. How old is your soul?..

About 6 long months of comforting later, Harry had finally gotten the information he was searching for. They were lying on the floor on the small balcony of their London flat, Louis’ head pressed into Harry’s now tear stained shirt.

‘I’m just so confused.’ He whispered against the material.

‘I know, Boo’ Harry muttered back, having heard this every time Louis had broken down to him.

‘I should have worked it out by now though.’

‘Who says?’

Louis stayed silent for a while at this. Nobody. Nobody said he should have but then, nobody knew what was on his mind. It was tearing him apart. He needed to tell someone and although that someone probably shouldn’t have been the openly (well, to the band and his family and friends and practically everyone he knew in person anyway) bi-sexual boy, Harry was his best friend.

‘I..’ Louis paused, tears forming in his eyes again. He knew it was nothing to be ashamed of. He knew his mum, sisters and everyone he knew would approve. But it was weird, different, and Louis didn’t like change. He didn’t like certainty. He liked being young and dependant and having everyone else make decisions for him. But this, this was only his. No one could make his mind up about this. No one could tell him that he was straight, bi or gay. That was up to him to work out. And Louis hated that.

‘You what, boo?’

‘I think I’m gay.’ Louis whispered fist tightening automatically to scrunch up the front of Harry’s shirt. He felt Harry’s trapped gasp. Shit… He had kind of hoped Harry had already knew. Weren’t gay people supposed to be able to tell or something anyway?

‘I always thought you were just camp.’ Harry smiled down at him, changing the mood in the small outside area and tilting Louis’ head upwards with his large hand so he had no choice but to look into his jade green eyes. Louis smiled back gently, grateful for how his best friend was taking it.

‘Shut up.’ He muttered gently.

‘How long?’ Harry asked seriously.

‘Since I was about 15. Please, don’t lecture me on it.’

‘I wasn’t going to, mate. That was all I wanted to know.’ Harry replied truthfully. Because Harry had gone through the same thing as Louis but at a younger age. People needed time to get used to it and it was emotional.

Harry had been 16 when he came out to his family. It had been just after he auditioned for the X Factor and they had taken it well from the start. His mum had smiled gently and hugged him, his sister had squealed and told him she already knew anyway and his step father smiled and asked him ‘if he’d got any action yet?’ Harry had laughed and changed the subject, not wanting to talk about his previous two boyfriends in front of his mum. He and Robin would have that conversation later. He had come out to his friends and the rest of his family a week later. Excluding some of his ‘friends’, who decided they never wanted to talk to him again, they had all taken it just as well as his immediate family. Finally he had come out to the boys during the 5th week of the X Factor Live Shows. They had been in bed at about midnight and the lights had just been turned out.

‘Guys?’ Harry had whispered from his bunk

‘Hmm’ Liam, Harry thinks, had replied softly clearly half asleep.

‘I’m bisexual.’

The room stayed silent for about 2 long, agonising minutes before Harry had heard Niall’s voice.

‘Cool.’

‘Yeah’ Liam agreed, not knowing what to say. Harry had hummed distantly in response.

‘You know we don’t care right?’ Zayn questioned. Harry hummed again.

‘We don’t, Haz.’ Louis had whispered, slightly off. This had panicked Harry. He didn’t want things to change with the older boy. If anyone had to act differently towards him because of his sexuality he never wanted it to be Louis. Anyone but Louis.

‘It doesn’t make a difference.’ Liam had agreed.

‘Personally, I think it’s quite cool. I’ve never known anyone who was anything but straight.’ Niall had stated, grin evident in his voice. Harry had grinned at this, all worry about Louis leaving him in an instant.

‘You get that I don’t, like, fancy you all of a sudden too, yeah? You won’t all suddenly act really distant?’ Harry asked vulnerably.

‘Of course.’ Niall had replied instantly.

‘Harry, we mean it when we say it won’t make a difference. We’re not idiots. Just because you like guys doesn’t mean you like us.’ Zayn stated firmly.

‘Yeah. Okay. Thanks.’ Harry replied more certain this time, smiling slightly at his new friend’s approval.

About an hour later Louis had pulled himself out of bed and up the ladder into Harry’s bunk. Harry woke from his sleep as he felt the older boy crawl under the quilt with him.

‘Lou?’ He’d asked sleepily.

‘I’m proud of you.’ Came the reply.

Harry only now had understood why Louis was proud of him.

And when you’re needing your space, to do some navigating, I’ll be here patiently waiting, to see what you find..

About 2 months after that night on the balcony floor Louis had become more comfortable with both his sexuality and talking to Harry about it. They had grown closer, if that was even possible, within the last two months and Louis had finally accepted the fact that he like Harry. He refused to act on it though. He figured Harry could never like him back so he left it there, checking out more guys in public instead. To be honest, Louis was shocked the other guys hadn’t caught on. He was hardly covering it anymore as he had become used to agreeing or disagreeing with the younger boy whenever he stated that a boy at the signing or in the audience or wherever was ‘hot.’

‘Lou?’ Harry muttered gently from the doorway of their small backstage dressing room. Louis hummed to show acknowledgment.

‘Can I tell you something?’ He asked gently.

‘Of course, Haz.’ Louis replied as he looked across at the younger boy. Harry bit his lip as he moved slowly to take the seat next to Louis. Louis sent him a look to continue.

‘I..’ he started, eyes on the floor as he found he couldn’t say anything more.

‘Harry.’ Harry looked up hesitantly. ‘It’s okay. Surely it’s not that bad.’

‘Depends.’ Harry stated, looking away again. He dropped his tone immensely before he spat out his confession. ‘I like you.’ Louis bit his lip gently.

‘As in like?’ He asked rhetorically. Harry nodded anyway.

‘I..’ Louis paused. ‘I like you too Harry but I don’t know if it would work. We have the band to think about too, remember.’ Harry sighed.

‘Yeah. I know.’

‘Plus, no offense, but I’ve only just accepted the fact I’m into guys. I don’t really want a relationship. I want to experiment.’

‘Yeah, I get that.’ Harry laughed gently. Louis laughed in response, glad he could lighten up the tense atmosphere.

‘Wait for me, yeah?’ His voice was quiet as it cut through the newly formed silence.

‘Yeah.’ Harry agreed smiling up at the older boy.

And in the end, you’re still my friend, at least we did intend for us to work, we didn’t break, we didn’t burn, we had to learn how to bend without the world caving in..

Harry knew Louis would come back. He knew he’d stop feeling the need to ‘experiment’ and want love instead, so he did exactly what he’d promised. He waited. He waited through the however many one night stands Louis had. He waited through the millions of girls throwing themselves at him. He waited through the boys (apart from Louis) and management and even his family in the end telling him to get a girlfriend or boyfriend. He waited through the nights he would spend curled up on the sofa with Louis, hoping that tonight was the night. He waited through Louis coming out to the boys and his family. He waited through Louis coming out to management and the boy’s families. He waited through his own coming out to the public and fans. He waited through all the ‘Larry Stylinson’ rumours that had set off. He waited, through the pain, for 6 months before that moment he desperately wanted came.

‘Haz?’ Louis asked sitting down at their breakfast bar, across from Harry.

‘Yeah, Lou?’ Harry answered casually looking up from the book he was passing time reading. Louis looked past Harry’s head briefly, double checking that the boys and their families were still talking and not paying attention to the potential couple.

‘Did you wait?’ He whispered gently.

‘For you?’ Harry replied in the same hushed tone. ‘Of course.’

‘Good.’ Louis replied before leaning across and connecting their soft lips. They both felt fireworks and butterfly’s (in the least cheesy way) run through their bodies as their lips moved in sync. Harry grinned into the kiss as they heard Liam notice them and whistle across at them. Louis deepened the kiss quickly as he lifted his hand to flip the boys, who had joined Liam in whistling and laughing by now, off. Although, that just caused their parents and sisters to join in. Harry pulled away hesitantly as the need for breath increased in both of them.

‘Wow.’ He muttered, still grinning.

‘Yeah.’ Louis whispered back, speechless as their lips were still millimetres away from each other.

‘Be my boyfriend?’ He asked quiet enough for the other boys and their families not to hear, although they obviously knew exactly what was going on.

‘Of course.’ Louis replied, smile matching Harry’s.

I won’t give up on us, god knows I’m tough enough, we’ve got a lot to learn, god knows we’re worth it..

Both Louis and Harry always knew coming out as a couple to management was going to be hard, but they also both knew that as long as they had each other they were strong enough. They could do it together. So they did. 4 months into their relationship they set up a meeting with the high up members of their management team and told them the truth behind their closeness.

‘So why are you here?’ Ashleigh asked them as she shuffled some paperwork about on her desk.

‘We’re dating.’ Louis stated suddenly but firmly. Ashleigh froze.

‘No you’re not.’ She replied, looking up at them.

‘Yes, we are.’ Harry answered, the same firmness as Louis in his tone, as he took his boyfriends hand into his securely.

‘You can’t.’

‘We are, with or without your acceptance.’ Harry fought sternly.

‘Think about the band. You’re sales will go right down.’

‘Don’t care.’ Louis stated.

‘You’ll lose all your fans.’

‘Don’t care.’ Louis repeated.

‘You’ll get shitloads of hate.’

‘Don’t care.’ Harry replied this time.

‘You’ll have no money.’

‘Not true but we don’t care.’ Harry smirked. Ashleigh sighed heavily in defeat as both boys stood up and walked away from the desk, hand in hand.

‘Why are you fighting so hard about this?’ She asked just before they left the room. She watched the young couple look at each other briefly before Louis turned to face her and spoke. Louis had never been one to stand up to management so the fact the words were coming from his mouth not Harry’s shocked Ashleigh but proved that they both really meant this. Proved that they loved each other.

‘Because we’re worth it.’

I won’t give up on us, even if the skies get rough, I’m giving you all my love, I’m still looking up..

Coming out to the fans was 100 times easier. While some had stopped liking them and sent them hate instead and obviously the ‘haters’ had simply sent them both even more hate, the majority of fans had celebrated and cheered even louder than before. Pretty much everyone seemed to love them and while things still were tough sometimes, they were both overall incredibly happy.

‘Louis?’ Harry asked from his seat next to him catching not only Louis’ but all the members of One Direction’s attention. They were currently sat in Zayn’s living room watching a (very boring in all of the boys opinion) film.

‘Yeah?’

‘Why’d you tell me?’

‘Tell you what?’ Louis frowned.

‘That you’re gay. I mean you could have told anyone first. Why me?’

‘Other than the fact you’re bi and I knew you would accept me and not get freaked out?’ Louis asked kind of turning his answer into its own question.

‘You knew that everyone else would accept you and not freak out too. They accepted me. So, yes.’ Harry replied simply, leaning his head on his boyfriends shoulder.

‘I guess I always kind of liked you.’ Louis admitted quietly but loud enough for the whole room to hear before pressing a small kiss to Harry’s hair. Harry grinned as the other 3 boys cooed and awed.

‘I always kind of liked you too, Lou.’ The green eyed boy replied, tilting his head backwards to connect the two’s lips. And just like that they both knew that they would never give up on one another. The world could put them through hell if it wanted, but they had all of each other’s love and that was all they needed to make it through.

They were Larry Stylinson. And this was their life.

#Harry Styles #Louis Tomlinson #Larry #Larry Stylinson #One Direction #Fanfic #Fanfiction #SongFic #I wont give up #Jason Mraz

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