#i rip off my shirt to reveal a shirt that says I Love Liam

[scifi-flyby]

here’s my detailed I Love Liam And Would Give My Kidneys To Him If He Asked post about his characterization and fandom response to it (aka i’m making up for the lack of meta he gets bc he’s a black human squadmate)

liam is so good and kindhearted and sweet and he’s trained in trauma response and actively makes these more personable actions to get colonists and you more comfortable when no one is asking him too. he’s the only person outside of an email from drack to acknowledge that your father dying might have impacted you because you weren’t ready for the job and because you’ve lost your father. no matter what idle dialogue says about how lackadaisical or free spirited liam is, he decisions show otherwise- if anything look to the goddamn movie night. it takes like five fetch quests for it to get started bc liam wants to make sure it’s perfect- it’s not that he goes into things unplanned, but that he prioritizes other’s feelings over anything else.

an important distinction is that this prioritization never comes in contact with his own safety unless it’s a matter of his job like saving civilians! he’s not the cardboard cut out of a black character intended to shoulder everyone’s pain and suffering- he’s allowed to fuck up, and he’s allowed to be pissed about things. his loyalty mission even confirms this- he saw people in danger, had gotten the facts relevant to saving them, and then deliberated over asking you to help him. he couches it all in humor to deflect from the fact that he really really cares about people and, until you progress one of jaal’s missions involving diplomacy with the angara, he’s not sure if you’ll use that against him or that you’ll prove him wrong. i’ve written posts about how the angara are coded as african and of the africa diaspora but nothing confirms it more than liam’s measured response until you prove that you’re not approaching havarl and aya as potential colonization.

liam gets criticized for immediately trusting and defending the angara after first contact, but its strikingly apparent: he sees a people scattered by genocide and oppression, and can identify and relate to them. identifies so much that, if you’re actively a pain in the ass to evfra or paaran shie and choose to make the angara more dependent on the nexus, his emails and idle dialogue are A Lot Less Friendly.

this isn’t even bringing up how liam is treated in the nomad dialogue! another big fandom thing is how liam says he wants friends, but he says harsh things to the squad which make them unfriendly to them. his motivation is something that people would write sonnets about if he were a white character: he’s traumatized and lashing out. he puts on this false sense of optimism because that’s what everyone needs- more importantly, what he himself needs to believe to keep going. “i believed in a new beginning. still do. i have to. we’re in it.” he’s going through the same exact breakdown that gil is going through, but he’s hidden it so far down that it just looks like he’s lashing out to be mean. which isn’t to say that the stuff he says isn’t hurtful, but they are things liam is personally insecure about and things HE needs reassurance for. his convo w vetra is really about how he felt tricked by his older mentor figure alec (who he was close to and familiar with… not to the degree of cora but like why is that glossed over) and doesn’t feel like he was thoroughly prepared for the dangers that lay ahead. liam and peebee’s conversations about the possibility of her fleeing at the first instance of danger is about how he fears he didn’t treat choosing to be a part of the initiative with as much seriousness as it deserves- it’s literally a parallel of his loyalty mission where he assumed he was getting into a smaller skirmish, which then evolves into crashing a smuggler ring.

liam is looking for their arguments because they reassure him about these smaller insecurities that add up to one big worry: that he was too impulsive and made the wrong decision in choosing the initiative and abandoned his family. he throws himself into these “humanitarian” (quotes bc… not everyone is human) acts and has others depend and lean on him because that’s what he signed up for- crisis response. but he’s smack dab in the middle of the biggest galactic crises and it’s getting to him- so instead he focuses on the smaller things. get ryder’s mind off of the genocidal aliens killing people he empathizes with. save a few people hurt by crime caused by the people he trusted to lead them to a new beginning. make friends with a people he identifies with but who see him as an invader and a colonizer.

at the end of the day liam kosta does all of these things to stave off the terrifying thought of him mistakenly leaving everything he’s ever known behind. but he cares so much he’s willing to risk getting hurt to force a happy ending out of every terrible thing that’s happened in andromeda. he came there for a new beginning and he’s gonna make sure he and everyone else is gonna get one whatever it takes. if it means shouldering micro relations with the angara, monitoring podromos for civilian unrest, or checking in on noncombatants to see if there’s anything he could help with, so be it. he has to believe in a new beginning- he’s living it. otherwise the only stability he has (being a part of the pathfinder’s team) will fall apart. who cares if he’s blunt when he’s bringing up legitimate concerns in the nomad

[peachykissxs]

I hate this, it was written at 2:30am but this concept wouldn’t leave my head so here you go.

Theo x Liam

709 words

Liam won’t stop asking Theo “Why do you keep trying to save me?”

Read on Ao3 if you prefer:

There was another threat in this god forsaken town. I know what you’re thinking. But why don’t you leave? And the answer to that is none of your business. A tromp of nephilim had decided to make Beacon Hills their home which had brought its own set of problems in the form of angels and demons. You see nephilim are seen as an abomination by both the good and the bad and as they have decided to set up shop in Beacon Hills and therefore has become our problem. Have you had to fight off a host of angels? No didn’t think so. It fucking sucks in case you were wondering. You see angels can inflict a lot of damage on supernaturals and that means it takes a hell of a lot longer to heal. That is why we are all gathered in the animal clinic at three in the morning after the battle. Why are we helping these nephilim anyway? All they’ve done is start trouble since they arrived. Anyway enough backstory and back to the large gash across my abdomen that Deaton was looking at.

“Fuck, that hurt.” I curse. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to stitch you up, stop wriggling.”

“It’s not my fault it hurts like a bitch.”

“If it still hasn’t healed by morning come back and I’ll figure something out.”

“How comforting.” I murmur sarcastically. Even with all the backstory I still haven’t explained how I got in this situation. Liam’s stupid ass was about to get stabbed and I got in the way trying to fight it off. Angel stabbed me with a kind of glowing dagger. It did not feel good let me tell you that.

I slid of the metal examination table pulling on my bloody shirt almost ripped in two before turning to leave.

“Theo can I talk to you?” Liam says confusion evident in his voice.

“Yeah sure.” I say distractedly not realising the consequences of my actions.

“Outside?” Liam questions. Now I’m starting to worry.

“Yeah, I’m leaving anyway.” I push the doors of the back room open to reveal the lobby. “What do you want?” The question coming out a little harsher than I had meant but I couldn’t bring myself to care. All I wanted to do was find somewhere quiet to park my truck and sleep for a week.

“Why do you keep trying to save me?” The dreaded question passes his lips.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I reply, a rehearsed response. Liam doesn’t need to know. Trying to push past him to make my escape.

“I’m not stupid Theo.”

“Really could have fooled me.”

“Why do you keep pushing me away?”

“Because I don’t want to hurt you.” Fuck. I’ve said too much, before I can look into his eyes and see disappointment, I turn to walk out of the clinic ignoring his call of my name.

I storm out of the animal clinic Liam’s voice ringing in my ears. The rain helping to cool my burning skin. The cold soaking through my bones and taking root in my soul. Before I could unlock my truck and drive away from this dreaded conversation. I heard his voice again more desperate this time. “Theo, please talk to me.” I turn on my heel face like thunder to meet Liam’s sad gaze.

“What do you want?”

“Will you answer my question?”

“You know Liam for someone so smart sometimes you are so fucking stupid.”

“What?”

“I fucking love you, you idiot I couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt.” Well no going back now.

“You do? Thank god.” Before I could express my confusion Liam’s lips were on mine, hands in my hair. My hands found their way to his waist. The rain was soaking me through but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I was kissing the boy I’d been in love with since the fall of the ghost riders. I pull back for breath, our foreheads pressed together breathing heavily. Liam looked up at me smile breaking across his face.

“Whatcha smiling for?” I ask a genuine smile gracing my lips.

“You have no idea how long i’ve been waiting to do that.”

“Me too little wolf me too.”

[yeah-all-of-it]

“Hey, sleepyhead! Get up! Busy day!” Ian calls from the bathroom.

He hears a grumpy, incoherent groan come from somewhere underneath the pile of blankets on the bed. After he finishes fixing his hair, he walks over to the bed. He perches himself gently on the edge, slowly sliding his hand underneath the bright white, high thread count duvet, a housewarming gift they had treated themselves to several months ago along with a new mattress and some sheets. After having to bang in walk-in coolers and dugouts and sleep on old mattresses and prison bunks for years, they wanted their bed to be a haven.

He has to feel around but Ian finally finds the waistband of Mickey’s boxers, and slips his hand in. This elicits a more pleasant groan from the pile of blankets.

Ian leans down and whispers softly, “We don’t have time now since someone decided to sleep in so long, but if you get up now, I promise I’ll make it worth your while later.”

“Ugh, fine,” Mickey grumbles, throwing off the covers and rolling out of bed. He stumbles to the bathroom, still half asleep, and shuts the door. Ian continues getting ready as he hears Mickey’s usual morning ritual; taking a piss, washing his face, brushing his teeth. He emerges from the bathroom several minutes later, decidedly more alert, and stops dead in his tracks.

There, standing in front of the full length mirror affixed to the back of the bedroom door, is his husband. He is dressed in a navy blue suit that looks like it was crafted just for his body. A slim fit jacket that enhances his broad shoulders and hugs his muscular arms. Slim leg trousers that show off his perfect ass, still deliciously thick from a few remaining quarantine pounds. Underneath the jacket is a crisp white dress shirt with a burgundy tie, and he has a pair of wing tips the color of caramel on his feet. He has put some gel in his red hair, not losing his curls, but styling them a bit more than normal. In short, he looks fucking incredible.

Once Mickey is able to breathe again, he manages to get out a flirty, “Hey there, Mr. Milkovich,” while very blatantly panning his eyes up and down Ian’s body.

Ian glances up at his husband, standing there in nothing but his ratty boxers, and grins at him.

“See somethin’ you like?” Ian inquires.

Mickey nods his head and smiles that million watt smile of his.

“C’mere.”

Mickey does as instructed and saunters over to Ian, who wraps Mickey tight in his arms and presses a kiss onto his mouth, gently sucking on Mickey’s lower lip. He lets his hands wander aimlessly all over Mickey’s bare back and Mickey melts into him with a soft “hmmmm”.

“Okay okay okay,” Mickey finally interjects, and pulls away. “You’re turnin’ me the fuck on and unless you want that fancy fuckin’ suit ripped off’a you right now, we gotta stop.”

Ian steps back and holds up both hands in mock surrender.

He then walks over to the dresser to grab his wallet and phone. “Mick, you got about forty five minutes to get ready before we have to leave.” He kisses Mickey on the cheek and steps out of the bedroom door, yelling from the hallway, “I’ll brew some coffee and we can take it with us. Lip will kill me if we’re late for his wedding.”

Forty minutes later, Mickey walks out into the living room where Ian is waiting on the sofa, playing some stupid game on his phone. He has poured two travel mugs of coffee that are in front of him on the coffee table. He looks up when he hears Mickey enter the room.

Mickey has on a modern dark gray suit, black dress shirt, black tie, and black wing tips. He’s gelled his jet black hair and it harkens back to years ago, when he was younger and wore his hair gelled every day. His brushed white gold wedding band gleams in the sunlight coming in from the window as he reaches up to adjust his tie. His bright blue eyes pop against the dark color of the suit. Ian sets his phone down and stands up slowly, unable to take his eyes off of his husband.

“Hell-o, Mr. Gallagher,” Ian purrs, while strutting up to Mickey, placing his hands on either side of his freshly shaven face. He slides his hands down Mickey’s arms and buries his nose in the crook of his neck, breathing in deeply. He smells of shampoo and Irish Spring soap, fresh from the shower, not yet tainted by the scent of cigarette smoke. He kisses Mickey’s neck gently, sighs, and reluctantly pulls away.

“We have to leave right now if we plan on being at the church by noon for the first round of pictures,” Ian states, double checking his watch.

“Alright, well let’s get goin’, GQ,” Mickey says with a sly grin and a quick raise of his eyebrows, grabbing his coffee on the way out.

Ian’s close behind and smacks Mickey on the ass before closing the door behind them.

———

“You’re early! I’m so fuckin’ proud!” Lip exclaims as the Gallagher-Milkoviches walk into the church.

He steps up to Ian and gives him a tight hug with a firm pat on the back; actually shakes Mickey’s hand. “Hey, you shitheads clean up pretty nice!”

Ian and Mickey both give him synchronized middle fingers.

“Uncle Mickey! Uncle Ian!” Franny yells and runs up to them, jumping into Mickey’s arms. She’s wearing a burgundy sparkly dress with a poofy tulle skirt and gold Doc Martens.

“Hey, kid!” Mickey says sweetly, swinging the tiny girl into the air, causing her to squeal with delight.

“Franny, you look beautiful!” Ian says to her once Mickey has set her down. “I love your dress!”

“It’s like the one I wore when you married Uncle Mickey!” she chirps cheerfully.

“It sure is!” Ian exclaims, giving her a big hug.

“Hey, Lip, where’s the newest little Gallagher?” Ian inquires. “Gotta get some snuggles in before things get busy.”

“She’s right over here, man. Tami’s got her. She’s gotta go get dressed anyway. Come on.”

Ian walks with Lip over to Tami, who is holding a snuggly baby in her arms, dressed in a soft cotton burgundy colored dress and a white cardigan, with little gold moccasins on her feet. Tami gives Ian a big hug and passes the baby off to him before heading elsewhere to put her gown on.

“Hey, there Sophie Gallagher. Uncle Ian missed you!” he coos. “I can’t believe you are three whole months old! And your mommy and daddy are getting married today!”

He glances up and sees Mickey standing off to the side, looking at Ian holding the baby with nothing but love in his eyes. Ian can’t wait to have kids with Mickey, but there is no pressure. They’ll get there one day. Right now they��re just enjoying being husbands and uncles. Mickey’s still nervous around babies, but Franny and Fred adore him.

“Okay okay, my turn!” Debbie interjects. She carefully takes Sophie from Ian and goes to sit down.

Ian spots Fred and heads over to him. “Freddie, my man, what’s up!” he says and picks up the toddler in the matching tiny blue suit who wraps his arms around Ian’s neck, saying, “Hewwo, Uncle Een!” in his sweet little voice. “Where’s Uncle Mickey?”

“He’s right over there. You wanna go tickle him?” Ian asks playfully.

“Yeah! Wet’s go!” They run over and wrap Mickey in a big bear hug. The tough guy can’t help but melt into a big puddle around his nieces and nephew.

“Hey, buddy!” Mickey exclaims, laughing at Fred’s small fingers tickling his sides.

Typical Gallagher chaos is happening. Liam is trying fruitlessly to convince Franny to go potty before things start. Debbie and Lip are arguing about something, as usual. Carl can’t find his suit jacket.

“Alright, we’ve gotta get this show on the road, people!” the photographer yells over the noise.

The photographer attempts to line up the bridesmaids - a couple of Tami’s childhood friends, Debbie, and Cami as the maid of honor, all dressed in burgundy chiffon floor length gowns. Debbie continues to gripe at Lip from her spot in line.

He then tries to get all the boys to line up - Ian, who is the best man, Brad, Carl, and Liam the groomsmen. The photographer has to shoot Ian a look as he puts Carl in a headlock when they are supposed to be lining up.

“Sorry!” Ian yells, straightening his suit and stepping into place.

Rounding up Franny and Fred and getting them to stand still proves to be easier than getting the adults to cooperate.

Mickey just sits back and watches the Gallagher shitshow with a huge grin on his face.

———

“You ready to do this, big brother?” Ian asks while standing in the hallway behind the sanctuary. The faint sound of people finding their seats and conversing quietly fills the air around them.

“Absolutely. Tami’s a good woman, ya know? She calls me on my bullshit, which is something I really need. She’s fuckin’ beautiful and she’s an amazing mom to Fred and Sophie. I’m really fuckin’ lucky, man,” Lip says, and Ian thinks he sees tears forming in Lip’s eyes. “I love her.”

Ian just smiles. “Soft motherfucker,” he jokes quietly and wraps his big brother in a hug, squeezing the back of his neck.

They hear the wedding march begin and know it’s their cue to step out into the sanctuary.

As they stand at the front of the church, the doors open and reveal Tami on the arm of her father, wearing a white beaded gown. It’s strapless and form fitting til it gets to the bottom where it fans out. She has her long blonde hair pulled up into a soft chignon, wispy hairs around her face, no veil. Simple. Lovely. She has a radiant smile on her face as she looks at her husband to be.

They begin to recite their vows and Ian notices they have chosen traditional vows. The same ones he and Mickey said to each other almost two years before.

“I Phillip, take you, Tami...”

“I Tami, take you, Phillip...”

“In sickness and in health...”

Ian can’t help but find Mickey in the crowd, locking eyes with him.

“For richer or poorer...”

Mickey softly smiles at Ian, and Ian just knows that sensitive asshole’s eyes are tearing up.

“Til death do us part.”

Ian is smiling at his husband like an idiot now, unable to take his gaze off of him. He can’t help but think of the day when they said those same beautiful words to each other, meaning them with their whole hearts. They had already been through most of it; sickness, poverty, better and worse. And they had made it. Making those promises that day just cemented that they would always go through those inevitable things together.

It was the best day of Ian’s life. The beginning of their forever. No more forced separations. No more goodbyes. No more lonely nights, wondering if the other is safe and okay. He has to fight back tears; this is Lip and Tami’s day after all.

Lost in thought, he’s startled back to the present by applause as Lip dips Tami for a kiss that’s a little too hot for church. This elicits a standing ovation and whoops and whistles from the guests. Ian can’t help but cheer and clap for his brother and his new wife.

———

After another hour of pictures, these including the bride and groom, they all head to the reception hall.

It’s decorated with white and burgundy linen tablecloths and elaborate floral centerpieces. There are Edison bulb strings hanging from the ceiling. A DJ is spinning beside the parquet dance floor, disco lights flashing away. There is a large table full of chafing dishes and a three tired cake on a separate round table.

“Man, the Tamiettis really went all out,” Mickey says to Ian, grabbing a carrot stick off one of the veggie platters with his fingers, sticking it into the bowl of dip, and shoving it into his mouth.

“Like you have room to talk, Mr. Gold- chiavaris-with-the-white-cushions,” Ian jokes, to which Mickey responds with a light hearted “fuck off”.

After filling their starving bellies with meatballs, chicken wings, finger sandwiches, and cake, the Gallaghers take to the dance floor. They know how to party and they’re not about to let this amazing night with music, free food, and an open bar go to waste.

The whole family is dancing to YMCA, a wedding reception staple, when the end of it fades into a slow song. Ian and Mickey lock eyes. Ian raises a quizzical eyebrow and Mickey nods, almost imperceptibly. Ian slowly walks over to him, gently grips his hips, and pulls him in close. Mickey snakes his arms around Ian’s waist and grasps his hands together at Ian’s lower back. Ian slides his hands up Mickey’s arms and wraps them around his shoulders. They sway slowly to the music, bodies pressed together so closely they can feel each other’s hearts thrumming in their chests. Mickey nuzzles his face into Ian’s neck as Ian rubs his hand on the back of Mickey’s head. They are intoxicated by each other, the romance of the day, and the few Old Styles they’ve shared from the bar.

“Hey, Ian?” Mickey inquires, a little muffled, not bothering to move his face from its place in Ian’s neck.

“Yeah, Mick?” Ian questions, talking into Mickey’s hair.

He hesitates for a second, like he’s trying to think of the right words. “Maybe... maybe it’s the beer, or… or just this day, or maybe being married to your ass is making me fuckin’ soft...” he drifts off.

“Out with it, Mick,” Ian sighs calmly.

“It’s just... I love you. So fuckin’ much. I feel like I don’t say it enough, man,” Mickey finally confesses.

Ian stops swaying, pulls back, and tenderly holds Mickey’s head in his hands. Looks him directly in the eyes. “Mickey. Listen to me. No, you don’t say it very much. But you don’t need to. Because you show me every fuckin’ day. And that’s so much more important and meaningful to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean… you got me to stop wallowing on the couch when I lost my job, paid enough attention that you knew where that could lead. Stopped it before it got bad. Checked in with me. Don’t know where I’d be, ya know mentally, if it wasn’t for you. Worrying about me and shit. Fuck, I probably would have fallen through the cracks years ago without you. And… and you created a job for me so we could work together. You planned a surprise anniversary party for me. You moved to the fuckin’ Westside because I wanted to. You agreed to buy a duvet, for fuck’s sake, and helped me pick it out,” Ian laughs.

“Okay, yeah, I guess I am a pretty amazing husband. You really fuckin’ lucked out, Gallagher.”

“Yeah, damn straight I did,” Ian smiles and pulls his husband back into his arms, thinking the matter settled.

There’s a short beat before Mickey says, so quietly Ian almost doesn’t hear it, “I fuckin’ lucked out, too, ya know.”

“Ya did?” Ian asks casually, expecting a snarky answer. Another slow song has begun so they stay where they are, in each other’s arms on the dance floor.

“Yeah, man. Like… like with my fuckin’ dad?” Mickey begins.

Okay, not where Ian was expecting this conversation to go.

“You… you found nurses for him and shit… and kept trying when they… didn’t work out.” Mickey keeps pausing, like the conversation is making him uncomfortable, but he can’t stop. “He was an evil prick that didn’t fuckin’ deserve our help… but you helped anyway… for me, ya know? ‘Cause it was important to me.

“And then… when he…” Mickey sniffs uncomfortably, reaches up and scratches his nose with his thumb. “…you just let me cry for like, 4 days. Didn’t make fun of me. And you held me. But you didn’t let me forget what a monster he was, no matter how hard I tried to only remember the good shit.”

“Mick, it’s okay, we don’t have to talk about all this, not here anyway —,” Ian begins but Mickey interrupts him.

“No, I wanna… I spent so much of my life never saying what I fuckin’ feel and I want to tell you right now how I fuckin’ feel,” Mickey declares, determined but still so tender.

Ian just nods for him to continue.

“Look, all the shit with my dad is in the past. But I’ll never forget the way you were …just, there for me. Through all of it. It just… it meant a lot to me. It meant everything to me, man. I just… sorry, all this wedding shit has me all fuckin’ emotional and I just needed to let it out. Tell you what you mean to me, that’s all.” He clenches his eyes shut, and squeezes the bridge of his nose with his fingers, only briefly. “Just… don’t fuckin’ get used to it, okay?”

Mickey grins after that last statement, relieving some of the tense emotion of the last several minutes.

Ian smiles back and replies sarcastically, “Wasn’t planning on it, softie.”

“You’re a fuckin’ dick,” Mickey laughs and draws Ian in close, starts to sway to the music again.

“Hey, Mick?” Ian whispers into Mickey’s ear as the song finishes. “I love you too,” and he feels Mickey’s smile light up against his skin.

Ian and Mickey dance and drink the rest of the evening away, celebrating not only Lip and Tami, but also the freedom they’ve found in being so emotionally vulnerable with one another. There is a lightness that comes after getting things off their chests, sharing their unfiltered feelings with one another. This might not have been the ideal occasion to share such heavy stuff, but Ian doesn’t want Mickey to ever be scared again to just blurt out how he fuckin’ feels every minute.

———

They aren’t completely wasted, but are definitely drunk enough that they shouldn’t be driving home. They grab an Uber and Carl, who has an early shift the next morning and quit drinking around 9, drives the ambulance to the Gallagher house where they’ll pick it up later.

Feeling no pain, they laugh and joke and sing like when they were just drunk teenagers, arms tangled around each other, up the elevator and down the hall. It’s nearly 1am and they aren’t exactly being quiet. Their neighbor across the hall, an older eccentric lady named Rhonda, pokes her head out to see what the commotion is, catching the two men pressed up against the wall outside her door in the middle of a steamy kiss.

They finally notice her presence, break apart and Ian blurts out, “Heyyyy, Ms. Rhonda! So sorry to bother you!” as their cheeks turn bright red. They’re not embarrassed that she caught them making out in the hallway, they’re embarrassed because this isn’t the first time she’s caught them making out in the hallway.

“Oh, you beautiful boys are no bother!” she laughs. “Wish I had someone to throw me against a wall and kiss me like that. Shew! You two crazy kids have a great night; god love ya!” and retreats back into her apartment with a friendly smile and a wave.

They laugh, bid her good night, and decide they should probably go inside their apartment before they encounter one of their less friendly neighbors. Ian fumbles around with the key for what feels like an eternity before finally getting the door open. They stumble through the door, slamming it shut loudly behind them, Ian reaching up to lock the deadbolt.

He stops as soon as he throws the keys onto the entry table.

“In case I haven’t told you yet, Mick, you look hot as fuck in that suit. But…,” he steps closer to Mickey. “I think it’ll look even better on our bedroom floor,” Ian teases.

“‘Ey, you look pretty fuckin’ hot yourself,” Mickey responds, biting his lip.

They just stare at each other for a moment, appreciating the sight before them. Suits and ties and dressy shit don’t happen around here that often.

“S’you remember your promise from this morning, right? That if I got outta bed, you’d make it worth my while later?” Mickey asks playfully.

“Yeah?”

“Well, it’s fuckin’ later, Gallagher. Time to pay up,” Mickey declares with a flirty grin.

Ian doesn’t even hesitate. Grabs Mickey around the waist and pushes him back toward their bedroom, to their bed with the cloud mattress and the bright white duvet, to their haven.

ETA: Check out Ian, Mickey, and Rhonda’s friendship origin story here!

[lilacsandwhiskey]

Yellow - Drake x Riley (TRR Fandom) NSFW, 18+

Day 3 of @choicesjunechallenge2021 - Yellow

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker and Riley Brooks

Summary: Riley loses a bet to her friend, Olivia. Though Riley thinks it’s a loss, it turns out a win in the end.

WARNINGS: SUPER NSFW, smutty smut smut, 18+ only please!!!!

Riley tapped her pen against the table as she waited for her almost-always late husband to arrive to the Royal Council meeting. Olivia looked over at Riley, giving her devilish grin. “You know I’m right, Riley.”

Riley had left Valtoria earlier that morning due to other errands and meetings to take care of throughout the capital. Drake was promised that he wouldn’t have to tag along since he worked late last night, but not to be late to their weekly meeting with Liam and the other members.

“Let’s make a deal - he’s on time, and you get to torture me however you want. He’s not, then I get the pleasure.” Olivia said, crossing her legs under her red skirt. “It’s a deal.” Riley stuck out her freshly manicures hand and met Olivia’s with a quick shake. Though things had started off nasty between them, they had became quite the dynamic duo. Olivia would almost, just almost, go about calling them the best of friends.

As the clock ticked closer to one, Riley found herself rolling her eyes. She knew good and well Olivia was about to win this one over her. Once the clock strikes one, Olivia let out a small “booyah!” before Liam walked in. 1:05pm, 4 minutes after Liam had began the meeting, Drake walked through the door and took a seat next to his wife. Riley glanced over to him, giving him a look. Though Drake had a way with his looks, Riley wasn’t letting him off the chain.

Once the meeting was over, Riley turned to Drake. “Ehem?” “I know, babe, I left just a couple of minutes too late. It won’t happen again.” Drake said with a pleading face. “Doubt that, brother. I can always depend on you being late.” Liam walked over to his best friend, grasping his hand and pulling him into a hug. “But I’m here!” Drake argued. “Very true, I can’t say that you haven’t been.”

As the conversations continue, Olivia hinted that it was time for punishment. “I’m going to hang out with Livvie.” Riley stood to her tippytoes to kiss Drake before they headed off. “So what’s my punishment?” “Oh you’ll see.”

——————

The lavished boutique downtown was fully furnished and ready to be scavenged through by Olivia. Security standing firmly outside, Olivia took her time while Riley sat in the corner. “I thought this was supposed to be punishment.” Riley said, observing the fine lingerie that was lined up and down the walls and racks. “It’s going to be, Riley.” Riley sat questioningly as she continued to slam each article against one another.

Moments later, a gasp escaped Olivia’s lips with an evil laugh. “This is the one.” Olivia pulled out probably the most hideous piece of lingerie she’d ever seen. Riley could only agree as the disgust rode up her face with no filter. “What the hell is that?” Riley asked. “Your new sex piece.”

Riley observed the bright yellow body suit. It was lacy and completely see through. Though Riley could only attempt to imagine how cute it would’ve been if it weren’t for some of the designs, the plastered cheap looking flowers made out of tethered material was plastered all over in different colors. Dark blue, hot pink, even lime green. “Are you kidding me?” Riley asked.

Before Olivia answered, she was making her way to the counter. “Nope, and you best believe i’m asking Drake Walker if you used it.” Riley jokingly gagged as she handed the paid for piece to her. “Is it really a punishment, Riley? Drake probably won’t even notice.”

——————

Riley laid in bed, her silk white robe tied securely around her and the piece that Olivia had picked out. Her once pinned up hair was now down in loose messy waves, glasses pushed up to her face as she read the book that had been laying on her bedside table.

She heard the bedroom door creak open, revealing a very tired husband. Drake’s tie was loosely hanging from his neck, shirt untucked, belt undone. “Long day?” “Unbelievably.”

Drake flopped down on the bed next to Riley with his eyes shut but lips puckered. Riley giggled as she laid the book down and leaned over the kiss him. “I never thought the meetings would end, I’m too tired to even undress myself right now.”

“Let me help you, baby.” Riley straddled her husband as he placed his hands securely on her hips, then moved up and down her thighs. “You don’t have to, love, but I’m definitely not opposed to you sitting on me like this.” Drake grinned with his eyes still shut.

Riley started with untying the rest loose knot on his tie and tossing it to the side before slowly unbuttoning his white dress shirt. Revealing a white tank top, Riley urged him to sit up so that she could briskly take it off. As she pulled the tank top over his body, she couldn’t help but to admire her husband, just as she always did. His toned chest was rising slowly as he laid back. His tanned biceps flexed as he continued to rub up and down her thighs.

Riley took her hands, lightly scratching down his chest causing goosebumps to appear on his arms. Her hands made it down to his pants, where the belt was already undone. Unbuttoning and unzipping slowly, Riley grazed over the thin fabric that covered his rising length. Riley grinned at the fact that she had so much control over these moments.

Drake assisted with kicking his pants off to the side as Riley moved next to his legs and softly massaged each thigh. “Mm, that feels good.”

Drake watched as Riley threw her thick hair back behind her shoulder. Moving back up, her tongue connected with his chest, licking down his torso, right to the waistband of her underwear.

Riley rugged softly on his underwear, bringing them down to show an already growing length. “I love that I do this to you.” Riley traced her finger around Drake’s stomach until she finally curled her fingers around his cock. Drake’s breath hitched quickly as he shuddered under her touch.

Riley’s tongue started at the base all the way to the tip before wrapping her mouth around his dick, slowly bobbing up and down. “Fuck, baby.” Drake whispered in a breathless tone.

As Riley grazed her nails over his thighs, Drake pushed her head up. “Baby, I want to finish somewhere else.” Riley grinned before standing up. “Let me see what’s underneath that robe.”

Riley almost busted out laughing when she slowly untied the front of her silk robe. Drake watched anxiously, propped up on his elbows with his lip in between his teeth. As the robe fell in a pool below her, Drake’s eyes went from wide open to squinting with question. “Yellow?” Laughter erupted from Riley. “And all of these pretty colorful flowers? Don’t you love it, Mr. Walker?” Drake shook his head and laughed. “You can say no, I lost a bet thanks to you and now I’m being forced to wear this by Olivia.”

Drake stood up, head still shaking before he grabbed Riley’s hips, pulling her roughly into his body. His hands caressed every curve, every inch of her skin that he was able to, before leaning down to her ear. “It doesn’t matter, because I’m going to tear this fucking thing off anyway.”

Before Riley could respond, Drake was briskly taking off the undesirable lingerie. “You could be wearing a paper bag and you would still have me begging for you, worshipping you.” His stubbled chin grazed Riley ear, causing goosebumps to appear.

Next thing Riley knew, she was being backed into the bed, until it hit the back of her knees, causing her to fall back. “What does my baby want?” Drake said, slowly bringing his fingertips to her wet core before sliding one in. Riley audibly gasped, arching up into his touch. “You, Drake.” With a devilish grin, he licked his fingers before placing himself at her center, slowly entering. Riley let out a deep sigh as he entered, she held onto him as she stretched around his thickness.

Drake took his chance to place his arm behind Riley as he slammed into her. In sync, their bodies moved fiercely together, nothing but the sound of skin hitting each other and the moans coming from each of them, as if they were speaking their own language. “I’m about to come undone.” Drake grunted. “I want you to cum for me.” Riley demanded, scratching his back, begging for me.

The final strokes became sloppy as Drake emptied himself into his wife. His moan filled the room as Riley tightened around him with her own undoing. Drake kept his eyes closed for a moment before rolling off of Riley, laying next to her. Drake pulled Riley against his sweaty body, breathing heavily. Neither said a word for moments as they both pulled themselves together. “You know, I don’t mind the yellow if I get to rip it off of you that fast again.”

[anjanettexcordonia]

Living Proof AU

Book: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir A/U

Catch Up Here Living Proof AU

Rating/Triggers: Mature (18+); NSFW; some language; suggestive language; infidelity 

Pairings: Liam x MC; Drake x MC; Drake x OC 

Word count: 1631 (+/-)

A/N: Please excuse any grammatical errors. 

**Disclaimer**: Some characters and scenes belong to Pixelberry.

Song Inspiration: 

If you would like to be tagged or removed please let me know! 

PermaTags: @yourmajesty09​​ @gkittylove99​​ @kingliam2019​​ @texaskitten30​​ @hopefulmoonobject​​ @mom2000aggie​​

Series Tags: @tinkie1973​​ @cordonianroyalty​​ @txemrn​​ @marshmallowsaremyfavorite​​

Chapter 1

I want to run after Liam but my feet are frozen in place. Five years of memories shot through my mind like a slow motion film reel. “You should go Brooks,” I barely made out Drake’s words over the sound of my heart thundering in my chest. “Just go,” he whispers. I could hear the sadness and anger in his voice. My feet felt like they were cemented to the ground. “I’m sorry Drake.” I choked out before pushing myself out the hotel door. Why was Liam in New York? How did he know? What did he know? The questions swirled through my brain like a tornado. It didn’t matter though. None of it did. The damage was done. 

I made my way back to my hotel, the streets of New York City bustled even in the wee hours of the morning. I constantly searched the sea of faces for Liam. I slid the key card to my hotel suite into the reader until the light turned green. Liam was sitting on the small sofa in the living room. “Liam?” I asked, stunned that he was here in my suite. “Riley.” His soft voice saying my name immediately calmed me. “We’re leaving in the morning.” Liam’s voice suddenly turned cold. “Liam.. I..” Liam raised his hand to silence me before I could go any further. How he could be so calm yet commanding after five years of marriage still baffles me. “No Riley. Just stop.” Liam shook his head. I knew better than to pester him. It was my fault. I broke his heart. I made my way to the bathroom of my suite and stripped my dress off. I stared at myself in the mirror. Who was I? I could see the woman I was so clearly but did recognize her? 

Liam was in my suite bed. I half expected him to take the sofa. “Liam,” I whisper, “I’m sorry.” “Every marriage has secrets Riley. I just didn’t realize they were from each other.” Liam murmured. We fell asleep with what felt like miles between us. 

“Riley get up.” I slowly opened my eyes with a groan. The bright bedroom lights stung my eyes as I tried to open them. “Flight leaves in 45 minutes.” Liam was already up and dressed. He was packing my belongings from the gala the night before. Fifteen minutes early, we arrived at the tarmac and boarded our flight. Drake was nowhere in sight. “Drake’s flying back on another flight. Bastien is with him. If that’s what you're wondering.” Liam spoke. He could always read my expression even at my most stoic. I nodded my head. 

Liam had dismissed all staff from the flight other than the necessary personnel that would remain in the cockpit unless told otherwise. “I thought we could talk about..” his words drifted as if he couldn’t let the revelations of last night slip from his tongue, He sat across from me in the plush chairs. I nodded my head. “I need to know why, Riley?” I stared in his deep blue eyes. “I thought we were happy?” “We were, we are Liam.” “Then why? Why did you have sex with my best friend?” Liam’s eyes locked on mine. His eyes were bloodshot, dark circles had formed under his eyes. He looked weathered and worn almost as if he had aged a decade overnight. 

“There was a time when Drake and I…” “Wait.. are you telling me this isn’t the first time?” Liam interrupted. “It’s not.” Liam’s entire body tensed at my words. I could see the change in him. His eyes darkened into a deep navy almost black. They filled with shock and surprise. His chest was visibly rising and falling. “I’m going to need a drink if we’re to continue this.” Liam mumbled. He poured two glasses of scotch. “Here, I’m not the only one that’s going to need a drink or three.” Liam finished off his glass in one swallow and poured himself another. “Continue.” Liam commanded. “It was before we were married. During the engagement tour with Madeleine.” I took a large sip of my scotch. “I thought it was pointless. I tried to go back to New York, Max & Drake wouldn’t let me. House Beaumont needed my help. I didn’t care about clearing my name after the scandal. I thought you and I were over.Drake and I started to spend time together while we were traveling from house to house. Things just... happened. When we got engaged, I ended it with Drake.” 

I took a deep breath knowing the worst was yet to come. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Liam whispered. “I didn’t want to hurt you and neither did Drake.” I could feel the sting of tears threatening to fall. My usual stoic face failing me miserably. My face was expressing every emotion I was feeling in the moment. Liam was reading me like a book, I could feel it. 

“You didn’t want to hurt me Riley, really? That’s the best you’ve got?” Liam waited for my response that didn’t come. “What about our children? Or are they even mine?” I felt like he had ripped a knife through my heart with his words. As quickly as the sadness came, the rage followed right behind. I jumped to my feet. I felt my hand raise and make contact with his stubbled cheek. My palms stung from the force behind the swing of my arm. 

I ran to the small bedroom on the jet and shut the door behind me. I sank to the floor with my back against the door. I knew it was my fault. Liam had every right to feel the way he felt. The sobs and convulsions overcame me until I was laying on the floor drifting to sleep. 

I could vaguely feel the door being nudged open and pushing me further away from the door. I’m completely delirious and groggy from crying myself to sleep on the floor. I felt a set of strong arms lift me from the floor by my shoulders and my knees and place me gently on the bed. “Riley?” I heard my husband whisper. I felt the bed sink down beside me as he climbed on next to me. I opened my eyes slightly, the room was dark but I could still make out Liam’s blue eyes. The darkness had left his eyes making them crystal blue again, his cheeks were tear stained from his own tears that he shed. 

“I’m so sorry, Riley, I shouldn’t have questioned Eleanor and William’s paternity.” Liam murmured. I felt the tears return to my eyes, a knot formed in my throat as I remembered his words that broke my heart. “I’m so sorry Liam.” Liam crashed his supple lips onto my dry chapped lips. My arms instantly came around his neck and pulled him closer. He shifted his body on top of mine and pulled my knees apart with his. “I don’t want to talk anymore.” Liam whispered against my lips. His tongue gained entrance into my mouth, his familiar taste sent a tingle down my spine. He kissed me with a hunger I’d never felt from him before. It was a need more than a want. I tugged his t-shirt over his head revealing his soft abs, they weren’t as defined as they were five years ago but still prominent. 

Liam moved his lips to my neck, he always found the spot that drove me crazy. He intentionally made sure not to kiss me in the spot I loved so much. His hands roamed every curve of my body looking for any exposed skin. “Liam..” I moaned at the sensations he was giving me. “Stand up” Liam growled. I stood from the bed in confusion. He stood in front of me. He placed his hands on either side of the zipper and pulled until I heard the fabric ripping into shreds. “Did Drake do this?” 

I stepped back from him in nothing but my bra and plain white thong. “What did you say?” I asked, in my mind I imagined what Liam had just asked. Liam stepped toward me and gripped my hips tightly. “Did Drake make love to you like this?” He asked again. “What, Liam, no… why… why would you ask me that?” “What does he have that I don’t?” The anger started to boil in my veins. “I’m not doing this.” I snapped. “So you’ll make love to your husband’s best friend? But not your husband?” Liam snapped back. I picked his t-shirt up from the floor and threw it on over my head. “I never made love to Drake, Liam. I love you.” “You never made love to him? I was there Riley. I heard everything that happened inside of his hotel room.” Liam’s voice raised an octave.

“I fucked him, Liam. I never made love to him.” My heart shattered at the words I had said, knowing they weren’t true. I loved Liam and I loved Drake in different ways. Liam sat on the bed with his head in his hands. “How could you do this to us?” His deep baritone voice shook. 

“Your Majesties, we are beginning our descent into Cordonia, please take your seats and fasten your seat belts.” The pilot came over the intercom. 

Liam sniffled and attempted to stop his tears at the destruction I had caused. “We will finish this later. Drake has been banned from the palace upon our return.” 

“Does Lindsay know?” Liam shot a look of disgust in my direction. “I suggest you worry about the damage you’ve caused your family and kingdom before you worry about his family.” 

I took my seat, fastened my lap belt and lowered my head. Liam was right. 

[mind-reader1]

I’m the Bad Guy (duh)

Summary: Emma has an accident the morning after her engagement to Drake in the safehouse that turns everyone’s world upside down. Nothing will be the same, no matter how hard Drake tries.

Catch up here!

Word count: 2156 words

Warnings: This chapter is NSFW. Graphic descriptions of sex ahead.

Chapter 7, part 2: Versace on the floor

She walks to Liam’s room, knocking on the door.

Liam opens the door only a few seconds later, eyes widening as he takes her in. “Emma! I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Can I come in?” She asks, twisting a piece of her hair around her finger.

“I was just about to go to bed..”

“Come on, Liam, please. I won’t be long.”

“Very well,” he says, finally letting her into his room.

“Truth be told, I was hoping to have an important conversation with you,” he continues as she takes a seat on his bed.

“Can I go first?”

[[MORE]]

He nods his head. Emma pats the space next to her on the bed, and he looks torn for a minute but eventually sits next to her.

“You’ll never believe what I found today,” she says.

“What did you find?” His voice gives away his intrigue.

She shows him the earring and he takes it from her hand.

“An earring? I don’t understand.”

“I was wearing it on the day of your Coronation. It fell down in the maze when we were, you know..”

His cheeks turn pink and he averts his eyes.

Figuring she has to do all the work, she soldiers on. “Liam, if that isn’t a sign, I don’t know what is. We should get married.”

“Emma -“ He stands up, pacing across his room.

“No, let me finish. We should get married, Liam. You can’t give me one valid reason why not. Admit it, you cannot find a better queen for Cordonia than me.”

“Emma -“

“You still love me, don’t you? And I know you’re worried about Drake, but he’ll understand. After all, he fell in love with me knowing you were going to propose.”

“Emma!” Liam screams, which finally stops her monologue.

“What?” She says, just as loudly, now standing up as well.

“I’m not going to marry you.”

Feeling rage boil in her chest, she increases her volume even more as she asks, “Why not?”

Liam looks like he is in physical pain. His face is scrunched up tight and his eyes are watery.

He takes a deep breath. “You’re right that I have been avoiding you because I didn’t want to come between you and Drake. He’s my best friend, despite everything, and I would never willingly hurt his feelings. But it’s also more than that. I have spent a lot of time thinking these past few days. What I have realized is that I cannot marry you.”

“What do you mean, you can’t marry me?”

Unaffected by her shouting, Liam says calmly, “When we first met, you told me that I didn’t have to marry someone just for Cordonia. You spent months teaching me the most important lesson of my life: I don’t have to give up on love to give Cordonia the queen she deserves. I never thought that would mean that I can’t marry you, but..The truth is, you no longer love me. You simply want to be queen. You don’t want to marry me, you want to marry the king of Cordonia, and I deserve better than that. You taught me that.”

For a moment, she is stunned into silence. The weight of Liam’s words weighs heavily on her shoulders, on her chest. She copies Liam and takes a deep breath.

One sentence plays on repeat inside her mind. I have come too far to take no as an answer now.

With newfound determination, she walks till she’s a hair’s breadth away from Liam. “Are you saying you don’t want me anymore?”

She sees his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows heavily.

She took his silence as a ‘no’ and continued. “The night of your coronation, you were going to propose because you love me. I know that you still want me,” her breath was hot on his lips but still not quite touching, “are you really going to pretend you don’t love me?”

Liam swallowed hard and took a step back, trying to keep his poker face, his eyes betraying him by roaming down her body.

“It’s true. I don’t love you anymore. You’re not the same Emma.”

Despite the words that left his lips, his voice held no conviction, causing a knowing smile to curl on Emma’s lips. She knew he’d been caught in a checkmate.

“I know about your fight with Drake at the hospital, how you hurt your hand,” she reveals to drive the final nail into the coffin.

Liam looked stunned. “We were alone in that corridor, there’s no way Drake would’ve told you what was said.”

“You’re right, Drake didn’t tell me. A nosy reporter heard you. Recorded it all. They sent me a copy asking for comment after the accident, I bought it from them so it never leaked.”

Liam silently cursed under his breath.

“I love you Liam, please.” She says, the words feeling like a lie even as she says them.

//

They were just a breath apart now, Emma’s hands ghosted over his chest, sending sparks of electricity through his body. Her fingertips gently traced the scars on his hand from where he had broken glass that night. Her lips followed, tenderly brushing the thin white lines as if they were a roadmap. She looked up at him and he was stunned, she was looking at him the way she had the night of the coronation. Maybe she really did love him again?

One hand laced her fingers with his own, the other gliding up his skin to tangle in his hair, finally bringing their lips together in a searing kiss. Liam’s body responded instinctively to hers, ripping his hand free of hers, it snaked around her waist to press her body against his, the other hand cradling her head as their tongues explored each other’s mouth with a hunger he’d never experienced before. He pressed his hips harder against her, satisfied when she moaned in pleasure before smiling against his lips, feeling his hard length.

He took the opportunity to pull away and gaze into her eyes one last time before committing himself to this. He wanted to see that look again, the old Emma that has resurfaced just moments ago. Part of him wanted to slow down and romance her, show her all the things she deserved, just how much he truly loved her, but another part of him wanted to tear her clothes off and ravage her through the night, right then and there. Ultimately the passion and urgency won out as he dove back in for another kiss, clawing at her blouse. She matched his pace, ripping his shirt off in haste, buttons flying from the force, neither cared. He was King, there was always another shirt.

They stumbled back as he fumbled unsuccessfully with her pants. Cursing under his breath he threw her down onto the bed and ripped them off with force.

“I want you so bad it hurts.” Liam’s eyes darkened with lust as he hovered over her small frame. They stared at each other, breathing heavily, neither moving.

She broke first, going for his pants, but he couldn’t wait that long, tearing them off, he freed himself and climbed on top of her. With surprising force, he pushed her further back onto the bed, her long curls fanned out on the pillow.

“What now, my king?” Emma purred, arching up to kiss him, but he turned away, pushing her back down.

He practically growled, he was so turned on by Emma calling him “my king.” After she said no to his proposal, he thought the only time he would ever hear those words was in his fantasies.

“Take off your bra.”

She unhooked it with ease and threw it across the room, gasping as Liam forced her up so he could suck and tease her nipples. Liam expertly swirled his tongue, feeling the peaks rise beneath his touch and her breaths became shallow. He let her fall back against the pillows and leaned back on his knees, unceremoniously yanking off the lacy black thong she had worn for him undoubtedly. He couldn’t wait any longer, he needed to feel himself inside of her, to hear her moan in his ear with each thrust, and finally to hear her scream his name as he made her come undone. He threw her legs apart and pushed himself inside without warning.

Emma gasped in surprise as he began thrusting violently, allowing no time for her to adjust. He made sure she could feel him deep inside her every time, the pleasure so intense it bordered on the edge of being painful.

“I want to hear you.” He leaned over her, growling in her ear. She let out a deep, long moan as she raked her nails down his back. It only encouraged him to go harder, forcing her legs back apart when she tried to wrap them around his waist.

“Fuck.” She seemed on the edge.

“Oooh. Li..I..Liam!” She came undone around him but he didn’t stop, he only adjusted so they were both sitting upright. He held her against his chest, both slick with perspiration.

“Come for me again.”

“I - fuck - I.” Everywhere his skin touched hers was so intense.

“Scream my name as I come inside you.” He commanded. Emma moaned and with one final thrust he came inside of her, her own coil snapping just a second later.

“Emma!”

“Liam!” They both fell back onto the bed, sweaty, exhausted and breathing heavily.

In the moment all Liam could think about was her, how badly he wanted her, how good it would feel to be inside of her again. Now that it was over and the fog had cleared from his mind, he hated himself. He’d betrayed himself and his best friend. He could see clearly now that the old Emma was never back, she was simply manipulating him. He allowed himself to be seduced by a woman who was only out for herself. Surely this was part of her plan, probably to hurt him, to make him feel the pain of losing her again.

He wanted to tell her to leave, but his eyelids were so heavy and he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she’d accomplished her goal. Instead, he let her stay and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

//

When her senses finally returned to her, Emma rolled on her side to face Liam and she recognized the look on his face before he fell asleep: regret. He was going to make a grand speech in the morning about how this had been a mistake, a lapse of judgement on his part, a moment of weakness.

Damn it. She hoped that the “I love you” and the sex would make him get over his reservations but clearly, he saw through her plan. There’s no way she was going to be queen now. That is clear to her now and that means there’s nothing Cordonia has to offer her anymore. In that moment, she decides that she’s leaving this place behind for good and getting on the first flight to New York City tomorrow morning.

She knew before she decided to do this that Liam changing his mind would be a long shot, but she had to try everything she possibly could. And, she had figured, even if her plan doesn’t work, at least she’d have some sex that would hurt Drake and make it more painful for Liam when she leaves after enduring the torture that was everyone around her trying to change her.

She resolved to leave before Liam woke, she didn’t need nor want to hear his pitiful excuses and see that sad, pathetic puppy dog look as he told her it was only a one night stand.

She was going to miss the dominating side of Liam she’d seen come out that was unhindered by manners and poise, she loved that side of him. God, she was going to miss it.

She should’ve fought harder and smarter, she thought as she drifted off to sleep.

//

Drake hadn’t been able to sleep after his picnic with Emma. For the first time in weeks, since she woke up really, he felt like he had a chance of winning her back.

He decided to go for a walk to burn off some energy. As he was strolling by Liam’s room, he stopped because he thought he heard something. A loud moan drifted into the hallway.

Drake smirked and kept walking, it sounded like even Liam had finally moved on as well. Everything was returning to normal.

After a long walk, he returned to his room tired and fell into the first peaceful sleep he’d had since the night they’d gotten engaged, when he fell asleep with Emma in his arms.

He dreamed of their life together, not realizing it would never come to pass, that his life would implode in just a matter of hours.

Tag list: Drake tag list: @notoriouscs @speedyoperarascalparty @andy-loves-corgis @furiousherringoperatortoad @sue9659 @smritysriv @mrsdrakewalkerblog @carabeth @jovialyouthmusic @mrswalkernazario @moonlightgem7 @nikkis1983 @gibbles82 @simsvetements @feartheendlesssummer @drakewalkerisreal @thequeenofcronuts @cgd03

This fic: @marshmallowsandfire @twinkle-320 @ravenpuff02 @ac27dj @silverofdreams @katedrakeohd @masterofbluff @texaskitten30 @kingliam2019 @kimmiedoo5 @tinkie1973 @pipsyliv

[larryfanficwriter98]

Chapter Four

{ My idea of the flowers, painting, and pearl necklace because I need visual things. sorry. if you don't want pictures just let me know}

Harry was wrapping the framed painting in bubble wrap when his phone started ringing. He grabbed it. frowning when he saw it was a facetime request from Louis. Which was weird for many reasons especially since it was currently 2 in the morning in Manchester. Harry hesitated but accepted it only to laugh when he saw Louis was completely drunk and squinting at the phone.

"Louis.. Louis no. You can't call your boyfriend drunk off your ass."

"Yes, I can. Leave me alone. I want to call him."

"Louis you will regret in the morning and besides you remember our rule. Friends don't let friends drunk call boyfriends. Or text. Or just handle a phone in general. So give it here."

"No." Harry quickly started recording his screen so he could send it to Louis tomorrow.

"Fine. I need to go find Niall and Zayn then we are leaving got it?"

"Got it, dad."

"Nialler!" Louis frowned at the screen and tapped at it.

"Call Hazzy. Call Hazzy. Siri... Siri.. call- Liam my phone isn't calling him!" Louis yelled over the sound of the music and people in the pub

"Louis do not climb on the table. No get down people are going to think you're a dancer with that ass of yours. No, don't shake it. Fucking christ Louis. How you've not been approached all night is beyond me with the way you do things."

The phone was on the table that Louis was currently standing on with a drink in his hand. He was shaking, what Harry now knew was a very round ass as a song played in the music. Harry put his phone against the stand so he could go back to bubble wrapping while also paying attention to a very cute drunk Louis. Eventually, Louis and the others were dragged to a car than inside a house. Louis had been telling the phone to call ''Hazzy'' for the past ten minutes.

"Go to sleep Louis." Liam said as pushed Louis onto the bed, Louis whined as he looked at his phone.

"Siri. Text Hazzy night night xxx. Kay? Bye." Harry covered his mouth as Louis fell asleep almost immediately

"Night night Louis." Harry said as he looked at the phone screen, studying Louis' features. He was cute and breathtaking even with his flushed face from alcohol and the cold wintery air. Harry ended the recording then the facetime shaking his head we he sent Louis the video.

Night Louis xx

Louis was able to not look at the video until he was soaking in the tub only a few hours later. He had woken up puking and he very much regretted taking Niall up on the drinking contest. He had known of course to never try and out drink an Irish, but he had already been drunk and he was stupid when he drank. He watched the video twice, once to see what he did as he didn’t remember anything and the second time to see Harry's reaction to everything.

They had never spoken about what they looked like, but for some reason, Louis was not at all surprised to see Harry with a curly bun resting on the top of his head as if he hadn't brushed it yet. Which no judgment from Louis, everyone has those days. He also wasn't surprised to see he had soft muscles like he was mo muscular, but not buff and not overly so, just enough to give a soft outline of his forearms. His jawline was perfect and he had a brilliant smile and his emotions portrayed in his eyes open as he glanced at the phone regularly.

Louis watched as he bubbled wrapped what Louis was assuming his next set of gifts there was already a long skinny box taped and closed that Louis thought Harry put a painting in. Louis also saw a scatter of fake flowers again on the ground around him. Louis knew Harry from somewhere, he just couldn't place it and it bothered him as he paused the video staring at Harry's face as he looked at the camera. Not able to think too much on it Louis moved on. He got out of the bath and headed back to bed to sleep some more.

***

The next few days were without texting because Harry was going from Sydney to Los Angeles, Sydney was almost a full day ahead of L.A, 17 hours to be exact so Harry took two days, after a 13-hour flight, to settle into the time zone differences. It also meant that Harry was now 8 hours behind London which means Louis now woke up first and went to sleep first, not the other way around. It took a few days to adjust to it, but they did adjust eventually. Louis only accidentally woke Harry up once.

Harry had sent the package of Chinese and Australian souvenirs before he had gotten on a flight. Louis had gotten a notification telling him he had packages delivered at the p.o boxes so after work he had headed there excitedly. He headed to the locker and pulled out the two 20x20x20 boxes then pulled out a 37x4x27 picture box. He put the items in his car and grabbed the note that was sticking out and Harry told him to look for.

Before going home head here if it's before 8pm.

There was an address written in the note so Louis typed it into his Maps and headed there parking upfront of a flower shop. He shook his head as he got out walking inside the.

"Hello, can I help you?"

"I don't know. My boyfriend-"

"You're Louis then. This way dear." Louis followed the woman to a back room where she grabbed a beautiful bouquet of flowers, "he told us to pick them for a long-distance partner. We made sure love was represented too much as he told us you guys wanted to wait to see each other in person. He did say you two were exclusive and committed so we made sure represent that. Faithfulness and admiration as well as honesty, trust, and longing." Louis blushed as he accepted the bouquet

"Thank you."

"Of course dear." Louis headed to his car and grabbed his phone texting Harry that the flowers were beautiful and that he'll send pictures when he got home. He had been debating whether to tell Harry his address so he could just send it to the house and as he struggled to only make one trip inside he decided he would do that.

"Need help?" Liam asked already grabbing the picture box and flowers, "how's the boyfriend? Spoiling you rotten still I see.

"Leave him alone. It's cute." Louis set the box on the coffee table then grabbed the picture box and sat that on top of it.

He then headed to where he had put the vase from Denmark at the end table in the hall that had a clutter of mail, keys, and other knick-knacks they didn’t bother to clear away. He filled the vase with water then carried it to the living room, he put his flowers inside the vase then carried it upstairs setting it on his bedside table. Louis adjusted a few things then took a picture of it sending it to Harry.

Hurrying downstairs he was anxious to see the picture, he had let it slip he liked Chinese paintings when Harry was sending pictures of an art gallery he was visiting. Louis hadn't thought of it, but now that he saw what could possibly be a painting he was a little worried that it may have come off wrongly. He didn’t want Harry to think he only wanted these gifts, not that he didn’t appreciate them and love them, but they weren't wanted.

"Open up the long box first." Niall said eagerly

"I was going to Neil." Louis grabbed the box and broke the tape pulling out a beautifully framed painting of pink flowers and black bark that make Louis smile as he thought it matched his real flowers upstairs. He set it off to the side then set the box off to the ground sp he could open a 20x20x20 box. Ripping the tape he laughed seeing Christmas wrapping paper wrapped around different items. There was a letter there and he unfolded it reading its contents,

Louis,

Do not open until Christmas except the one with the double bow. Open that one on the 24th. I'll be free on the 23rd, 24th, 25th, 26th, 31st, and 1st. Make sure to have it set up as soon as you open it for skyping.

Harry xx.

Louis set the letter off to the side and grabbed the first gift with a green bow. He frowned though when he saw it was addressed to Niall.

"This is for you Niall. Harry says not to open it u too Christmas though."

"What? Really? Sweet." Louis handed him the rectangular package then pulled out another rectangular box with Niall's name. "Is he trying to win us over?" Niall asked

"He's just thoughtful like that." Louis said with a shrug as he pulled out two packages with a lighter green bow.

They had Zayn’s name on them so he handed them to him. Liam's two packages had a white bow on them and the rest had red bows. Louis set them under the tree carefully nothing the one package at the bottom had two bows, a red and green. The second box had a few packaged wrapped in birthday wrapping paper with a note telling him not to open them until his birthday. He set them under the tree as well for now then pulled out the Teddy bears for China and Australia.

The China souvenirs consisted of a few different teas for Louis with descriptions of what they tasted like to Harry without anything added to them. A few large paper cuttings with a note saying they are placed in windows in China and at night with a light on it looked " cool ". Louis chuckled as the simple explanation as he set them aside he did like them, the bright red was beautiful. He was already thinking of ways to decorate his room with a Chinese accent wall above his headboard. Next was a Chinese silk wall hanging that was a beautiful blue shade. Following that was some sweats, a few Chinese knots, a box of beautifully painted chopsticks, and then the last thing was a long rectangular box. The sticky note on it read,

I have a set too. I wear mine often, but you don't have to wear them I just wanted to get you a pair to have. Never know when you may need them.

Louis opened the box revealing a three chain set of pearls. Louis grinned and ran a gentle finger over them. He has seen a glimpse of Harry's pearl's over his shirt during their facetime. Louis still couldn't quite place where he knew Harry from and it's been bugging him.

Moving on for the Australian souvenirs the first thing was a lot of T2 Tea products which Louis was grateful for. He loved trying new teas and the fact Harry has bought at least one tea product from each country meant a lot to Louis and showed him that Harry paid attention. After the tea, it was some classic Vegemite with a note telling Louis it tasted like three days old Thai take out that had Louis laughing. There a side note saying no one was allowed to taste it without it being recorded.

Following the Vegemite was some food and snacks, an adorable koala ceramic mug, a 3D Ned Kelly mug that Zayn took and claimed as his own. Following those, there were some kid-friendly wooden puzzles, 21 kookaburras, koala, kangaroo, emu, and crocodile growing eggs for each child and staff member at the daycare center. 25 paint your own boomerang kits for the daycare and the lads that they were going to paint later that night as they share a bottle of whiskey together. Then the last few items were just small Australian animal bouncy balls for the daycare and of course some teas.

"He really likes those kids." Liam said as he examined the boomerang kit

"We both want a big family one day, that's something we have mentioned in passing and he knows I adore the kids at the daycare. He loves kids."

"You two have talked about kids?"

"Not like that, but yes it sort of came up while we were talking about the daycare." Louis shrugged as he put the kids’ things in the box to take it to the daycare after the holidays. Today had been the last day of work until the 2nd of January. He set that box aside then packed the rest of his stuff in the other box and headed up to his room to decorate.

[bebepac]

Six Sentence Sunday (AT LEAST)

I know it’s more than six, i’m gonna not even fake it.   Ha ha ha ha ha ha 

 My old boss that I worked for used to say don’t ask permission ask forgiveness.  Which made me make some drastic work decisions, also life decisions, that i will honestly say has been good and bad.  But I have no regrets.  

So here’s what I got:  

The Crown Visits the South

 University Student Ellie Chapter 2

“Riley why is it so hot here?”

“Because we’re in Hell Liam.  I don’t know why in the world Ellie was thinking she would enjoy this place.”  

Liam had dressed in a suit but had just about stripped out of it, taking his suit jacket off from the walk from the hotel to the black SUV.  Riley had never seen him roll up his sleeves on a long sleeve dress shirt before but he was.  He ripped his tie off, tossing it on the back seat unbuttoning the first few buttons of his dress shirt.

“Cordonia is hot in the summer, but not like this.”  

“It’s not the heat here that’s so bad, it’s the humidity.  Today we’re at 97% humidity, and the heat index will put us at 109 by noon today.”  The driver told them.

Liam groaned, and mumbled in a whisper, “Riley my balls are sweating. It’s 8:30 in the morning!?!?!?!?!?!”

“Do you want to go back upstairs to change?”  

“Into what? NOTHING?!?!?!  Because that’s the only way I think I could cool off right now!!!!!!!”  

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^* next up *^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Beach Buddies

The Life of Riley Chapter 16

“Do you have everything you need?”  Ren asked.  

She looked at Von’s small bag.  She was a little concerned.  They would be at the beach for a full week.

Von nodded.  

Ren pulled Jason into the kitchen.

“I don’t think Von has enough clothes Jason.”  

“I know. He’s got a backpack.”

“We’ll stop at the mall.  Convince Riley she needs a few things, and get him a few things as well.  Couple of shirts, shorts, and things.”

“I remember when we didn’t have much.  Where everything important we had could fit in a backpack like Von’s.”

“So put the gray suitcase in the car too.  We’ll have it full for him by the time we come back.”  

“Okay Ren.  Let Riley know what we’re going to do too, so she can help.  We don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable.”

“You think that’s all he has?”  Riley’s eyes filled with tears.

Ren nodded.  

“But we don’t want to make him embarrassed, Jelly Bean.  We’re going to go to the mall and get him a few things.  So help us make it fun.  You get a few things for yourself, but we’re really going there for him.”

“Thank you Mom.”

When Riley saw her dad outside loading up Ren’s SUV, she gave him a huge hug.

“Thank you Dad.”

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^* next up *^*^*^*^*^*^*^* 

The Crown’s First and Only Gender Reveal

Fast Forward Chapter 13

"You can have whatever you want Riley. The answer is yes."

Riley chuckled. "You are always so agreeable to everything after we make love."

"Because it's beautiful, it has been from our very first time together in New York."

She kissed Liam again.

"Now what's on your mind my love?"

"You know this pregnancy is going to be our last one."

"I won't lie, it still makes me sad. I love seeing you like this." He gently touched her stomach. "I love making babies with you."

"Let's do something special."

"What do you have in mind?"

"I know, royal protocol is to wait  until the birth to announce the gender. But Liam let's share it with the people so they can celebrate with us. Let's do a gender reveal. And it's one pregnancy tradition that i've always wanted to do, but we couldn't."

Liam was silent for a few moments. Liam was a stickler for protocol and she didn't know how he would react to changing it.

"So do you have any ideas?"

"Does that mean we can do it?"

"Yes, let's do this."

*^*^*^*^*^* ^* next up *^*^*^*^*^*^*

Mom’s Birthday

Pop’s Place Chapter 7

"Do we have to talk at all?" He leaned closer to Mia kissing her.

Mia's lips met his again and again. Her kisses made him feel intoxicated.

"Mmmmmhum….."

She pulled away from him seeing Pops staring at the two of them.

Liam jumped up. "Pops!”

"Looks like you two made up."

"Yes sir. I hope so."

“Well then you can see her tomorrow.  It's getting late Liam. Say goodnight Mia."

"Goodnight Mia," Mia chimed in.

Liam laughed out loud until he saw the look on Pop's face causing him to abruptly stop.

*^*^*^*^*^*^* that’s all for now *^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Thanks for the tag @cordonianroyalty

Tagging some fellow writers to see what they are up to, and some peeps that might want to see some sneak peeks as what i got cooking in the fandom crockpot for this week. 

@queenjilian @dcbbw @axwalker @texaskitten30 @debramcg1106 @loveellamae @batgirlassociationofgothamcity @hopefulmoonobject @indiacater @lovablegranny @mom2000aggie @gabesmommie1130 @sanchita012  @queenwalton @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie​ @sadlibrahours @gkittylove99 @blueaster-blog1 @kimmiedoo5​ @losingbraincellseveryday​ @cordonia-gothqueen​ @lovablegranny​ @cordoniaqueensworld​

[alj4890]

A Second Chance

(Thomas Hunt x oc*Amanda)

A/N Our last chapter of this series. I will say that some things did not turn out how I originally planned, but I do love that about writing with these characters. They really do end up taking a life of their own. Our final chapter for A Second Chance has Maxwell’s big surprise, Amanda’s decision, and an epilogue. Thanks so much for enjoying this brief series. Sorry I haven’t responded much on your comments. In between beginning this and ending it, migraines from the bowels of the earth struck at various intervals. But I have thoroughly enjoyed how this story unfolded.

@lxaah11 @alleksa16 @penguininapinktuxedo​ @blackcoffee85 @stopforamoment  @hopefulmoonobject   @krsnlove   @annekebbphotography @hopelessromantic1352 . @sunflowergirl05  @desireepow-1986 @greywitchyshots @lilyofchoices @moodyvalentinestories @emceesynonymroll @my-heart-beats-for-ya @aworldoffandoms @ab1901  @flyawayboo @i-bloody-love-drake-walker . @trappedinfandoms  @kate-mckenzie @cordoniaqueensworld @everythingmarvelsherlockspn

Masterlist

Catch up here with Chapter 9

Chapter 10

While Maxwell was away, Amanda sat down and begin to compose a list of all the things at St Orella that were either left to her as an inheritance or she had purchased herself. Everything else either was left in terms of being a part of the duchy.

Thomas had read Kathleen a few stories at the window seat while she continued to write down what she knew was hers. He would look up every once in a while and watch her tap the top of her pen to her lips while reading over what she had listed.

When she set it down, he realized that her list barely covered half a page.

As Kathleen left them to see what her aunt and uncle were doing, Thomas came up behind Amanda’s chair and read over her shoulder. “That’s all you plan to take?”

She nodded. “The majority of furniture was left to the St Orellan heir. These are what members of my family either left personally to me or to a family member who then made certain I inherited it.” She then pointed to another column. “These I bought for myself using my personal fortune and not the St. Orellan coffers.”

“What about the portraits of your parents and uncle?” He asked.

She shook her head. “Those were painted for the St Orellan gallery.” When she noticed his concern, she gently caressed his cheek. “I have plenty of pictures of them that will go with me.” She then opened a drawer to her desk. “And I get to take these with me.” She pulled out the different journals of her ancestors. “Each one was written for family, not the for the current duke or duchess.”

He pressed a kiss to her lips when she looked back up at him.

“You know Maxwell won’t mind if you take more.” He kissed her ear. “I don’t want you to leave behind anything that means something to you.”

She smiled and shook her head. “I am taking what means the most to me.” She looked up at all the heavily ornate furniture and decorations, excited at the prospect of picking new décor. “The rest belongs here.”

He took her hand when she rose from her chair. She met his still worried gaze and smiled. “Come. Let’s get Kathleen ready for this big surprise.”

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

A little over an hour later…

"Must we wear these?" Thomas asked.

Maxwell nodded. "It's the only way for you to be truly surprised."

Kathleen obediently slipped on the sleep mask and gripped her mother's shirt.

"Wait until we are in the car." Amanda said, trying to keep from laughing.

"It isn't a surprise party, is it?" Thomas appeared suddenly ill.

"You'll find out soon enough." Maxwell said in a sing song voice.

Kathleen giggled at her father's resigned expression. He glanced down at her, saw she only had one eye covered with the sleep mask, and felt his first smile form since Maxwell had handed them the blinders.

"What do you think the surprise is?" He whispered to her.

"Maybe a party." Kathleen said. "Oh! Or an animal!" Her face lit up with excitement. "He gave Aunt Riley and Uncle Liam two red pandas when they got married. What if he got us two since you and Mommy are getting married."

Maxwell heard her loud whisper and gently shook his head no when Amanda whispered to him if it was that.

"I never do repeats." He admitted. "I'm not that kind of gifter."

"A limo?" Thomas' eyebrows raised in disbelief when they followed him outside. "Where are we going?"

"You can't expect my surprise to begin with a normal car ride." Maxwell replied, wounded at such a thought.

Kathleen hurried inside.

"After you." Maxwell said to the couple.

The two got in and sat down across from their daughter. Maxwell smoothly slid in and sat on the seat between Kathleen and her parents.

He rubbed his hands together. "Alright party people, masks on!"

Thomas groaned softly when both Amanda and Kathleen gave him a silent pleading look to play along. He pulled the mask over his head and settled it over his eyes. He felt somewhat placated for doing so when he felt a kiss placed on his cheek

Once everyone had their sleep masks firmly in place, Maxwell lowered the privacy barrier and told the driver to proceed. He raised it back up and relaxed with a big smile on his face.

During the long ride, Thomas felt Amanda slip her hand in his as well as resting her head against his shoulder. His lips curved as memories of the night before flashed through his mind. He was looking forward to tonight and all the possibilities that were before him.

Amanda’s own smile appeared when she felt his arm lift to wrap around her. She then felt his lips brush her temple and couldn't wait until they were alone once more. Her heart was completely ready for their future. Now that the burden of St Orella had been lifted off of her shoulders, she was excited for what lay ahead.

The two had stayed up late into the night making plans for the type of wedding they wanted, possible honeymoon destinations, and of course talk of maybe having more children.

Even when she used to daydream of Thomas realizing he loved her and wanted to be with her and Kathleen, it had never matched to the real thing. She still was waiting on either her alarm clock or Kathleen to wake her up from what surely must be a dream.

While the two sat quietly with their thoughts, Kathleen kept up a steady chatter with Maxwell, trying to guess where they were going.

"Give it up, Kat." Maxwell teased. "You will never guess this."

He had to fight his laughter at her huffing and folding her arms. Her little face scrunched into a fierce frown was made even more humorous by the sleep mask covering half of it.

After some time, the limo slowed to a stop.

"Keep those on!" Maxwell ordered when they all moved to rip the blinders off.

He got out, commanded they remained still, and then told them to carefully step out.

"Alright, stand right here--wait no--Thomas, you need to--" Maxwell repositioned them and stood in front of them to make certain they were in the best spot for the big reveal.

"It sounds like the beach." Kathleen gripped her parents' hands as she strained to figure out what their surprise was.

"Yes, it does." Thomas murmured.

"Is it a picnic?!" Kathleen asked.

Maxwell shook his head then realized none of them could see him. "No picnic."

"Are we going sailing?" Amanda asked.

"Nope." Maxwell gloated. "Now, on the count of three, I want you to take your masks off." He glanced behind him, grinning at his conspirators stepping out onto the lawn. "One...two...THREE!"

The family removed them and blinked at the bright sky.

They looked around curiously.

"Well?! What do you think?" Maxwell could not quite contain his giddy excitement.

"The house?" Thomas asked, looking at the mansion set against the rocky shore.

"It's beautiful." Amanda said, admiring the subdued gray brick.

"It's yours." Maxwell said proudly.

The couple looked at him with mouths agape.

"What?" Thomas uttered.

"Can we go in?" Kathleen asked.

"Maxwell--how, you can't give us a house!" Amanda exclaimed. "This is too much."

The rest of the Cordonian group and Stephen and Rachel had smiles as they pointed out that it was a wedding present from them all.

"Max picked it out." Riley began. "He said you had to have a place in Cordonia so that you would visit more often."

"Liam used his kingly authority and got all the paperwork completed overnight." Drake added.

"And we have been doing a little bit of decorating." Olivia rolled her eyes. "Mostly, we have been doing whatever Hana ordered us to do."

Amanda covered her mouth as tears filled her eyes. She shook her head at the immense generosity of her friends. They had stuck by her through every trial she faced. Helped her wade through years of uncertainty. And now they had rushed to give her a home all her own. No nobles to deal with. No political work to keep it. Just a home for her and her family.

When the first broken sob escaped her lips, Thomas gently pulled her into his arms. She tried to muffle her crying against his shirt.

"Mommy!" Kathleen rubbed her eyes and pressed her face against her legs. "Don't cry."

Thomas rubbed Amanda’s back while she tried to calm down. He knew the last few days had to be a whirlwind of change and stress on her. Being given such a gift was her breaking point.

Hudson cleared his throat from the front door. "Your grace?" When numerous heads turned toward him, he shook his head. "Forgive me, I meant Lady Hana. There is an issue of furniture placement that we need your direction on."

Hana smiled and hurried inside, pulling Rashad along with her.

"Hey," Maxwell said softly. He tugged on Amanda's hair making a surprise laugh pop out amongst her tears. "Can I give you your tour before I go pick up Nadia from the airport?"

She nodded while dabbing at her cheeks and nose with the tissues Riley had handed her.

He grinned and motioned with his head. "Come on. I can't wait for you to see the inside. It literally screams Amanda and Thomas."

Kathleen tugged on his hand. "What about me?"

His grin grew bigger. "Just you wait, Kat. Hana has done something that definitely has your name written all over it."

The rooms were bright and cheerful with unparalleled views of the ocean. They were also surprisingly filled with furniture.

Amanda paused when she recognized her favorite recliner from one of her informal dens at St Orella. "Max? Is this..."

"Don't worry." He said proudly. "Hudson knows what has to stay at St Orella and what doesn't. The rest though is new furniture." He shook his head as if to admonish her. "Every bride needs something old and something new."

Thomas laced his fingers with hers as they continued with the tour.

There were rooms for all their needs. A breakfast nook in the large kitchen. A dining room with Amanda's great grandmother's china tea set sitting in a place of honor in the middle of a table that could seat twelve. A study was currently being worked on by a few of St Orella's servants. Some of the books on the shelves were the very ones Kathleen had been interested in.

A large living room was complete with nothing but furniture that was made for comfort. No rough, formal antiques that made one less likely to sit could be found anywhere.

There was one room downstairs that was left completely empty.

"This will be the theater room." Maxwell explained. "I called Addison to let her know what we were doing, and she and the Hollywood bunch are designing this for you. They'll be here Monday."

Thomas groaned at the thought of more company. His lips curved though each time Amanda exclaimed how much she loved all that they had seen.

Kathleen tugged on Maxwell's hand. "Can we see my bedroom?"

"Bedroom?" He pretended to ponder that. "Hmm...did you need one?"

Her little jaw dropped. "Where will I sleep?"

"I didn't think of that." Maxwell muttered. He chuckled when she still seemed unable to believe it. "Do you honestly think I would leave out the most important part?"

They went up the staircase and saw a room with the door closed and another larger one with Hana directing some workers.

"Let's look at where we are going to stick your parents first." Maxwell whispered.

They all peeked into the room where Hana was.

"Oh!" Amanda gasped. The room was similar in design to the one she had in St Orella. There was a large fireplace in which Hana had placed two chairs. The bed that was being put together was set in a way that one could enjoy the fire from it or turn on their side and see the ocean.

Thomas admired the suite's bathroom with its large shower with multiple shower heads. His eyebrows lifted at some of their clothes already in the walk-in closet.

"Hana," Maxwell called out. "It is time to reveal your masterpiece!"

She smiled and left Rashad in charge.

"Close your eyes." Hana whispered as she held Kathleen's hand.

The little girl closed them tight and nearly bounced with anticipation when she heard the door open.

"You can open them." Hana clasped her hands together, beaming at the happiness she saw in Kathleen's face.

"Twinkle lights!" Kathleen pointed up at the ceiling. She went from one area to another, thanking Hana with each aspect she loved.

"Hana," Amanda said in surprise. "This looks so much like her room in California."

"I wanted her to have that sense of home here." Hana explained, blushing at all the compliments everyone was giving her. "That was why I asked you for more detail about her room." She knelt when Kathleen hugged her.

"This is the best surprise ever!” Kathleen told her, kissing her cheek. "I love my room, Aunt Hana."

Maxwell grinned and quietly motioned for Amanda to follow him. "The rest are guestrooms that we ran out of time to furnish. We thought you and Thomas and Kathleen might want to stay here tonight. Rachel and Stephen can stay at St Orella for as long as they want."

He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. "Are you happy with it?"

She nodded, pulling him into a hug. "More than I can express." She kissed his cheek and tried not to cry again. "Thank you."

He checked the time and told her he would be back later. "Hudson and the rest will be bringing your things over. Anything you want from St Orella is yours. Just write out a list and he'll make sure to have it delivered." He winked before hurrying down the stairs.

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

While Kathleen played in her new room, Thomas and Amanda stepped outside to the back patio. It curved around with the house and had a number of lounge chairs and covered swings set out.

"What do you think?" Amanda asked.

"It's a beautiful home." He turned to look up at it. "I'm surprised Maxwell chose one that I would have actually picked for us."

He noticed she was staring at him. "What are you thinking?"

"That I want to get married." She admitted, blooms of color appearing on her cheeks.

He smiled as his lips tenderly brushed hers. "So do I."

"I mean today." She looked up at him. "I want our first night here to be one of us celebrating our marriage."

His arms tightened around her. "I will marry you whenever you wish." His lips grazed her ear. "Nothing could make me happier than doing so right now."

Amanda smiled as she met his lips in a more heated kiss. "Wait here."

He watched her hurry inside, disappearing down a hall.

A few minutes later she returned with Liam.

"You do realize that everyone will have my head for this?" He teased.

"We will do our best to be discreet." Amanda glanced at Thomas. "Or as discreet as we can be with dressing up."

"You have a plan?" Thomas asked, noticing the secretive smile on her face.

"I do." She pointed to a secluded area on the shore. "Meet us down there in thirty minutes."

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

40 minutes later...

 Thomas tugged at his bowtie and checked the time once more.

"You're not nervous, are you?" Liam asked, amused watching his agitated movements.

"No." His frown eased. "Not at all. I'm about to marry the only one I have ever loved."

Liam clapped his shoulder in camaraderie.

"Can you legally marry us without witnesses?" Thomas asked, concerned about it not being official.

Liam nodded. "I'm the king. It will be legal and binding." His eyes lifted when he saw movement coming down the hill. "Ah, here they are."

Thomas turned and couldn't stop the smile that formed. Kathleen had on the sparkly dress he had bought her for her birthday. Amanda had dressed in the dark teal gown she had known he had always loved her in.

The two loves of his life walked hand in hand and stopped before him.

"We're ready." Kathleen said to Liam.

He chuckled and began the ceremony.

While Amanda and Thomas stood before one other with their hands clasped, Kathleen stood next to Liam. She leaned against his side as the vows were exchanged. He placed his hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed when she let out a yawn.

Her parents though were oblivious to her thinking it was taking too long. When Liam brought up the issue of rings, Amanda began to say they did not have any yet.

Thomas pulled them out of his pocket.

"Where did you get those?" She asked, completely surprised.

"I wanted them to match your engagement ring." Thomas lowered his eyes to the bands he held. "I bought them at the same time."

She shook her head while trying not to cry again. When she took his wedding ring, she noticed markings on the inside.

She held it closer and read the words aloud. "A second chance."

 He nodded at the engraving he had secretly had done while she was in the capital. Thomas slipped her ring over her finger and raised her hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to it. He lifted his eyes to hers. "That's been my wish for five years."

She slid his ring over his finger and pulled him close for a kiss. All the love they felt was poured into that single touch. She opened her eyes, smiling that this wasn't a dream. "It's been my wish too."

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

Epilogue…

Once upon a time, there was a duchess from a far away land who met a man from Hollywood. The instant they met; they knew that something special was about to happen. Over time they realized that they were in love. But like all fairy tales, turmoil struck and the two were forced to be apart for a long time. The only consolation the duchess had was in the little piece of her former relationship: a daughter.

The poor man in Hollywood, pining for his lost love, was left in the dark to her existence. Years of searching for the one who held his heart would all come to an end one fateful night in New York.

That was the moment for a second chance at love to occur. Fears and doubts plagued the couple, and yet they persevered in the hopes to one day be together. More trials and decisions were made until the moment they said I do on a rocky shore in Cordonia.

What was to follow surprised no one who knew the couple. The two settled into a happy life together. Thomas, our hero, continued to make movies and to love his wife and daughter with all his heart. He never took one moment he had with them for granted, having seen what life was like without them. He spent every moment he had making certain that they knew they were his entire world. Nothing else matter but his love and his family.

Amanda, our heroine, settled into a life as a stay-at-home mom. She and their daughter Kathleen supported and loved Thomas in all his endeavors. She never ceased in telling him how happy she was nor how much she loved him. For she knew what it was like to live a life believing he did not care for her. Her heart nearly burst with tenderness when Thomas had director’s chairs for each one of them on all his movie sets. They traveled everywhere together and loved every adventure they went on. She still made him see the humor in every inconvenience and the ability to be thankful for the ones you have by your side during them.

Three years after Thomas and Amanda married, they were welcomed with the birth of their twins. Ian and Elizabeth had their father wrapped around their fingers just like their older sister did. He marveled at being able to see everything firsthand. He was the one to insist on getting up in the middle of the night for bottle feedings and diaper changes. The twins smiled every time they heard his voice. Thomas and Amanda both felt that they had everything they could possibly want. They realized that their life together had been sweeter than either could have ever imagined. Neither could think of a single thing to wish for. Life was perfect.

Kathleen flourished under her parents love and care. Much like her father, she went on to take an interest in the fine arts. With her love of musicals, she began to study more of dance and singing. Unlike her mother, she had a clear alto voice that with further practice became quite pleasing to the ear. Her dance classes allowed her to wear all the sparkly outfits she wanted and even gained the eye of a certain young man when she was a teenager. Michael Rodriguez would go often to watch her practice, complimenting everything about her. Like his father, his sweet gentlemanly personality helped Thomas reluctantly give his approval for the two to date. They are still inseparable, supporting one another as Michael walks in his father’s and grandfather’s footsteps to be an actor. He in turn follows Kathleen every chance he gets to New York, waiting backstage each evening with a bouquet of flowers and nothing but love in his heart. On one particular evening, he had a ring waiting for her in her dressing room. Without any hesitation, Kathleen said yes. Their wedding was termed Hollywood Royalty with two heirs of the most famous marrying. Neither paid any attention to the press. They only had eyes for each other and the future that awaited them.

As the twins grew, Ian shared his parents’ obsession with films. He would go on to work his way up to be his father’s assistant director. Then he set out on his own and made his first movie. Fearful he could never match the emotional depth his father so easily captured, Ian worked tirelessly over finding the right script, then finding the right actors. While his family worried over his health with the long hours and stress, he refused to back away for even a second from his dream. As the credits rolled on his premiere, he turned to see his father with tears in his eyes. Thomas pulled him into a hug and told him that he was his favorite director in the entire world. Amanda worried with the handsome looks he inherited from his father, that he might end up falling for the wrong woman. She still had nightmares of Kara Bennett and her pursuit of Thomas. But Ian was more like his father than anyone first realized. He didn’t fall in love until one fateful night when he bumped into a student form UCLA at a coffee shop he loved to frequent. Their impact caused her to drop all her books. When he voiced his surprise that they were all medical textbooks, she had blushed and blundered her way into his heart with her admission that she was following in her parents’ footsteps. Nearly a year later, Ian would marry Dr. Alice Ramsey in a lavish wedding in Boston.

Elizabeth had at first appeared to be a miniature Kathleen. Her features and immense sweetness mirrored those of her sibling yet, she possessed a quieter nature, more like her father’s. She was serious minded though was uncertain what she wished to do in life. Unlike her twin and sister, she was not drawn to a life of performance. She wanted to do something else, something more meaningful with her life. She knew what her father and siblings did brought joy to the world, yet she wanted to find a different way to serve people. On a trip back to her mother’s home country, she soon discovered what she was meant for. It had been years since she had last seen the future duke of St Orella.  Lord Xavier Beaumont had recently returned from college and was ready to begin his part in caring for the people of Cordonia. When his eyes met Elizabeth’s across the royal ballroom, all thoughts left his mind save for the one that he needed to meet her. Imagine his surprise that she was the same little girl he had once played with.  After a whirlwind courtship, the two married, much to the delight of Maxwell. He had always secretly hoped that his son would fall in love with one of Amanda’s daughters. He wanted the St Orella duchy to still be apart of her family. And now it was.

All in all, the Hunt family had a series of sweet and humorous moments over the years. Neither Thomas nor Amanda ever dreamed that their lives would one day resemble what they did. Thomas had once thought he was destined for life as a bachelor. Film would be his lifelong love, his movies his offspring. Amanda in turn believed her life tied permanently to St Orella. She had once thought she would marry a noble or a diplomat, have the necessary heir and spare and live a contented life amongst the court.

Both could be heard every once in a while say how thankful they were that life did not work out at all like they had once planned.

And with that…

They all lived happily ever after.

[bbrandy2002]

The Fall of Cordonia

Chapter Two-Let Mercy Come

Book: The Royal Heir

Summary: More characters fall victim to the attack. Liam makes an uncertain decision. Bradshaw's plan for Riley begins. Leo makes a grand entrance.

A/N: This is dark and may be difficult to read, so just a heads up. Due to the subject matter, this will not be a long series. Thanks for pre-reading @burnsoslow and tossing around ideas @sirbeepsalot

Warning: Character deaths mentioned. Gun violence and profanity.

Characters belong to Pixelberry.

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With white flashes of fluorescent and the nauseating smells of burnt flesh and antiseptic, Drake suddenly became aware of his surroundings and bleak reality. He is pushed past rows of stretchers, lining the corridor of the hospital, each carrying victims of a senseless attack...the dead, the dying and the damned. He was thrust briskly against a wall, to now take his place amongst them.

As the frenzied hands of medical staff ripped at his shirt and inspected his wounds, he could hardly feel any pain as the sound of sorrow incapacitates his senses. Drake attempts to reach up and cover his ears, to deafen the sting of the anguish that lavished the air, only to have them pushed back down at his side.

If the horror of his environment weren't harsh enough, thoughts of Maxwell dying overcame him, as the dried blood on his face had been mixed with the fresh blood of his friend.  Then there was Riley, what had become of her fate after being seized by crazed soldiers, all too exhilerated by her capture. Would they kill her...torture her...violate her? He wallows in speculation while a large part of him wishes the needle that was injecting pain medicine into his veins would pierce his heart, at least it would end his torment.

While waiting with dozens of other souls in a triage area, Drake catches a glimpse of Bertrand, wandering without aim, shell shock etched across his disconcerted face, as he continues his trek. Drake attempts to let out a hallowed call, fearing now for the welfare of his sister and nephew.

Bertrand is brought out of his daze after he hears Drake's pleas and he turns quickly, hopeful its a doctor with news of Savannah's surgery.

Panicked, Bertrand explains with much sorrow, that Savannah was shot at the Valtorian estate, while he and Hakim were riding the nearby nature trails the Queen had recently opened. Bartie was with a nanny, visiting the menagerie and he had yet to hear from them. All decorum was lost, as his eyes frantically beg the door to open, revealing a very much alive and unharmed toddler, he curses loudly with each disappointment.

With hands gripped firmly to the railing of Drake's stretcher, Bertrand struggles to remain on his feet; he wants to collapse, but, can't let go of hope, not yet. He suddenly senses an absence, someone was gone from his life, and an unsettled feeling causes him to become frantic.

"Where's Maxwell?".

The same hot tears that formed after the destruction, found themselves covering Drake's eyes again. He swallows hard, willing himself to succumb to the medication and take him away to a dreamland, one where he doesn't have to break such heartbreaking news.

Bertrand's eyes search Drake's, he could see it, he could feel it, and he knew where his brother was. With his head bobbing, barely able to hold itself up, "Please Drake....tell me Maxwell is okay?"

Drake closes his eyes tightly and shakes his head, fuck, "I'm so sorry Bertrand...Maxwell... is gone".

Bertand tilts his head back, staring blankly, taking deep, painful breaths....

"Maxwell, hit the brakes!", shouted a 10 year old Bertrand, as his 5 year old, little brother, went skidding across concrete on his bicycle. Maxwell had begged their father to teach him how to ride for months, but, finally gave up after hearing, yet again, he didn't have time. Bertrand, who hated the outdoors, watched in amusement from his bedroom window, as his brother, made an attempt to teach himself.

He made his way down the staircase and out the front door to the long and winding driveway that led to their home.

"Bubby...I can teach you to ride if you want".

Maxwell's eyes beamed, he loved it when his big brother spent time with him.

After hitting the pavement, Bertrand checked on and kissed his "boo boo", just like their mother did. He helped him get back up and encouraged him to try it one more time, while he held on to the handle bars to steady the bike.

Slowly he took off, Bertrand guiding him along, then faster....faster...release. Maxwell rides off by himself, laugher filling the air, the wind blowing through his brown locks, sweeping in all directions.

"I'm doing it Bertrand....look at me".

With a large smile, Bertrand jumped with his hands above his head, celebrating along with his brother, "I see you Max...I told you it was easy".

He watched Maxwell peddle down the driveway, swerving to miss rocks and loose sticks. When he finished, he hopped off his bike, letting it fall to the ground and ran to Bertrand. Maxwell grabbed his older brother and attempted to lift him up to share his happiness and victory. Bertrand chuckled, "I don't think you can do that bubby".

"Thank you Bertrand, you're the best brother ever!", he exclaimed excitedly, while hugging him around the waist.

"You're the best brother too, Max".

The air surrounding Bertrand turned ice cold as his heart literally broke into a million pieces. He whispers somberly to himself, "My bub... is gone?". 

Drake gave him a sympathetic nod, as a tired and worn doctor approaches, wearing his fraught emotions on his sleeve, "Duke Beaumont".

Due to the number of victims waiting for surgery, the doctor shared the news of Savannah's death openly, rather than opt for a quieter location. Just as soon as the words were spoken, the doctor hurriedly rushes back to the operating theater to attend to the next, of his many patients.

Drake tries to bolt up, however, the effects of his medicated state was hitting him like a ton of bricks, he was woozy and heavy. Making every effort to yell for his sister, his voice was muffled and unclear. What the fuck is going on...what the fuck.

Bertrand collapses to his knees with a hard thud, no longer having the will or strength to live.

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

After several hours of anxiety induced waiting, the two guards that had been sent by Bastien to check the safety of the palace grounds, finally return to the bunker.

They shared the grim news of the status of Palace staff, however, the occupation of the city by Auvernal appeared to be retracted.

Bastien led Liam through the tunnels, secret passages, and finally through a wall book shelf  that opened into Liam's office.

The stench of death was overwhelming as it mixed with the smoke of nearby fires. Liam covered his nose with his hand, shocked by the appearance of his pillaged study. He glanced over the room with purpose as he walked around it, taking in the damage, before running to the entryway, to check on the body that laid still on the floor.

He knelt down beside the blonde haired woman, littered with holes throughout her slender physique, and slowly pushed her over onto her back, "Madeleine?"

Rubbing his hands over his face, she was his first taste of the brutality that awaits him outside his confines. His thoughts were  swirling with trepidation, he was the King of this country and the weight of this dilemna fell squarely on his shoulders. He stood to peak out the window behind his desk, the crunch of glass under his shoes following him. Liam pushes aside the broken blinds and can't believe the sight of his once beautiful country in desolation. Smolder and ash, painted the once pristine view of the sea and sirens blared in all directions.

Bastien instantly began trying to re-establish communication, he wasn't certain what Liam's plans were at this point, however, outside assistance was needed promptly. Within minutes, he is able to tap into the palace's backup cell and internet generators, "Your Majesty, we are connected again".

Liam has never considered taking a life, he never felt it was necessary or needed. How can he punish innocent people for the actions of one man.....

******

"King Bradshaw, I apologize for interrupting your breakfast, but, the Cordonian Queen is settled in her room", a servant exclaimed.

Bradshaw wiped the corner of his mouth, remaining composed, "Very well, see that nurses attend to her injuries and I will pay our guest a visit following my meal.......oh, and make sure the video feed is ready".

"Yes, sir".

******

Liam had a decision to make, he knew he didn't have the manpower to do it with though. He paced the room, feeling powerless and weak. On the floor, were shattered photos, that of his wedding, his son, his late mother, he bends down and wipes away the broken glass and dirty bootprints that left their symbol on each one.

Across the room, laid Madeleine, still hanging onto an eery death stare, as Bastien covered her with the throw from Liam's sofa.

He leaned on his desk, sweating profusely and feeling the grime in the air penetrate his flesh. Anger could not cloud his judgement, but, damn if he didn't want revenge.

A King's guard knocks loudly on the doorframe of Liam's study, the door still held open by the late Countess. He bows, "Your Majesty", he says slightly out of breath.

"What is it Paul?"

The guardsman steps to the side, as another guard, holding a woman in his arms enters.

Liam's eyes widen with astonishment and disgust as her face falls to the side, revealing her identity. He nearly loses his mind as he begins running both hands through his matted, disheveled hair.

"Bastien....get the Italian Prime Minister on the phone...".

******

Bradshaw had finished his breakfast and was eager to check in on Riley, still hopeful that Liam would contact him soon, now positive he survived the attack.

A flustered guard walks into the dining room, bowing before Bradshaw, "Your Majesty, Leo Rhys is insistent that he meet with you,now....shall I kill him or let him in?".

King Bradshaw burst into laughter, quite amused by this surprise,  "Absolutely not....I would love to hear from this...has been...please send him in at once".

Bradshaw hustles to the dining room safe, opening it and pulling out a silver .50 caliber hand gun. He holds it up before him, twisting it in his hands, admiring its power and lethal prowess.

The door bursts open with vigor and Leo searches the room, his eyes landing on the small statured man with the blood of his countrymen on his hands.

"Mother Fucker!!!", Leo yells and then lunges forward with vengence.

Bradshaw aims the gun in his direction and pulls the trigger, releasing a powerful burst of energy that thrust Leo to the floor. "You were saying?".

******

Liam turns to Bastien, uncertain of his decision, but, now completely obsessed with retalliation. With Queen Isabella and their young children in Paris, he felt this was the time to strike.

"Italian bombers are en route to Auvernal....its time for payback", Liam says with waning optimism.

"What about civilians, sir?", Bastien asked with concern.

"I've asked that only military installations be the target, as well as, a special surprise for Bradshaw", he pauses for a moment, "...he and his palace are about to be obliterated".

[capnjay21]

A House is Never Still 2/6

Five years ago, Emma Swan disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Killian Jones’ disappearance, well, not so mysterious – given the denizens of Storybrooke all but blamed him for her murder. Drawn back to town by a series of strange events, he soon realises the story of what really happened the night she vanished is beginning to unravel, and what’s more: it isn’t over.

A/N: And here is chapter two! Again, I have to heap innumerable amounts of praise and gratitude on @hollyethecurious​ without whose AMAZING aesthetic I would not have even come up with the bones for this fic. You can check out her post of the art here! I'd also like to thank everybody who's hopped on board so far, I'm so glad to have you! And finally, huge thanks to the @csrolereversal​ event chaps, I love all of you and your support. Happy @cshalloweek​!

This chapter is a day early as unfortunately I won't be able to post over the weekend as I've had some bad news in my family life, and muchos love to @carpedzem​ for being a true pal about that <3 as a result, the next chapter will be in two weeks, not one. I hope that's okay!

And that's enough of me rambling - enjoy!

Rating: T Warnings: mentions of suicide, canonical character death, and some Spooky Business™.

AO3 | one

-/-

2 - whispering in distant chambers

October 14th – 5 Years Ago

What were you supposed to take with you for trips to creepy old houses in the middle of the woods?

Rather unceremoniously, Emma dumped her textbooks onto the end of her bed and grabbed a rucksack from the corner. Better to be prepared. Unfortunately, most of what she knew about preparing for these sorts of expeditions had been ripped entirely from cinema, and as such the first object she could bring to mind was rope. Immediately she dismissed the idea. What the hell would she actually need rope for? After a beat of hesitation, Emma opened her bottom drawer and rummaged around for what she had hidden inside – a small fishing knife, one she had lifted from an unsuspecting dockworker when she was thirteen, for the delighted danger of it, and the way it had made her younger self feel powerful. It had moved with her to the Nolan house, although she had stuffed it out of sight to avoid Ruth or David seeing it.

Still, she didn’t know what they could expect in the woods that day. She was desperate to be helpful, especially given the gentle way that Killian had asked him to accompany her, as doubtful as she was about the legitimacy of the trip.

Brooke House did not exist. That was well documented.

She had asked Archie about it once, when she could contain her curiosity no longer. Apparently when the Jones brothers had moved to Storybrooke, Killian eleven and Liam eighteen, the elder had supported them and joined the community as a promising labourer. He made his living as a home restorer, but quickly gained a reputation for his work completing odd carpentry jobs around town. And through it all, he had often discussed the work he was completing on a small house in the north woods. Brooke House, he had called it.

After he had died, the sheriff’s department had gone looking for the property Liam Jones had spent much of his time in for any clues as to why he might have wished to end his own life.

They hadn’t found a thing.

When word got out, the entire town had gone wild. Apparently the Storybrooke Mirror had sensationalised it, painted all the talk of Brooke House as the ramblings of a disturbed man, and all had wanted to take a crack at finding it – the phantom of the forest. Not least of all Killian. Killian, who had searched for that house a thousand times, desperate to believe it wasn’t so. Emma’s heart had broken when Archie had recounted the tale, and advised her gently to keep it to herself.

It hadn’t stopped her knocking on the door to his room at the group home; she had found him staring miserably at his unpacked suitcase, knees tucked up to his chest.

Another banner year, right?

What?

We’ve all got ghosts here.

“Emma?”

A gentle knock at her door revealed David hovering on the threshold. He was just beginning to come into his broad shoulders now, shirking the lanky boy she had known as just another classmate for so long.

“Hey. Do we have rope?”

“I thought you were studying.” David took one look at the rucksack she was holding, the boots she had pulled on with the laces still undone, and the torch she was stuffing into the pack. “When you’re obviously… going caving?”

Emma laughed, shaking her head. “Close. Killian and I are going hiking.”

That had seemed like a more reasonable explanation to her, but apparently David disagreed.

“Hiking? You?”

She rolled her eyes, but had to suppress a snort. “I think we should all go hiking more. The complete surprise we’re met with when any of us suggest we’re planning to is not flattering.” 

“You know it says be wary of bears, not bear claws.”

He looked altogether far too pleased with himself, so she ignored him and continued to peruse the bedroom for items she might like to take. It was mostly devoid of belongings, over the years she had learnt it was preferable to be able to pack light, but she had accumulated a few things over her time with Ruth and David which might be of value.

“How come?” David asked.

“Killian,” Emma offered, by way of answer, “he thinks he’s… oh, I don’t know.” At the last moment she decided not to elaborate. No doubt David would have his own thoughts about the rationalisation of the expedition. “Rope?”

David arched an eyebrow. “Do I look like a mountaineer?”

Emma took one look at him, the plaid shirt and the sturdy boots he wore, perfect for the volunteering he often did for the farms outside of town.

“A little,” she smirked.

David chose to ignore the jibe, and instead wandered over to where she was packing. “Why would you need rope?” Emma realised at the same moment he did that the backpack was hanging quite far open, far enough for him to take a peek at the contents, and although she rushed to close it he was quicker than her. David snatched the bag and stuck an arm inside it, before lifting out the knife with an indignant look on his face. “What’s really going on, Emma?”

She bit her lip, weighing her options – but the irked stare he was giving her, combined with the fierce protective streak she knew he nurtured and his often uncanny ability to sense her in a lie, she decided to tell him the truth.

“Killian thinks he’s found Brooke House,” she admitted, “I’m just going for moral support.”

While he blustered for a response, Emma made a grab for the bag and the knife, decidedly shoving one back into the other.

“And you think you’ll need – that?”

“You did say there were bears,” she muttered.

David was not impressed by the jest. “I love Killian, you know I do, but this… it’s crazy, you know that, right?”

“Of course I know that!” The fact he would even suggest that she wasn’t the one with all of her faculties in this situation was frustrating enough, but they both knew once Killian had set his mind on something he couldn’t be diverted. “It’s all the more reason he shouldn’t be doing this alone.”

Better they went together, that somebody was with him while he explored all the tenets this road might take him down, so someone could pick up the pieces if he couldn’t stop from shattering. That was what they had always done for each other, what they would always do. And she refused to apologise for it.

“His brother died, David.” She knew she didn’t need to remind him, but felt she should. “And it was awful. So if there’s a chance any of this is going to get him a little closer to being okay with it then I have to try.”

For a long moment David was silent, arms folded and a frown creasing his brow, and eventually Emma stopped waiting for him to reply. She didn’t need his approval, she’d gotten this far in her life without worrying what another person thought and she wasn’t about to start now – she also thought she remembered seeing some rope out in Ruth’s garage with all of her gardening equipment. She reached for her coat; Killian would be waiting.

“Fine,” David said resolutely, “then I’m coming too.”

Emma scowled. “No, you’re not.”

“This isn’t negotiable,” he insisted, and hastened to continue before she could retort, “and I know you can take care of yourself, it’s not for you – it’s for me, and Mom. Because, tough, you have people that worry about you now, and it’s important to me that you’re safe.”

I just thought you’d want somewhere quiet to study, he had said, the afternoon he and Ruth had arrived at the group home and asked if she wanted to spend the weekend in their house. It had followed a rather terse encounter between the pair of them at the library, in which she’d asked the nice but lanky boy from school in no uncertain terms to fuck off, and let her get on with her damn calculus.

Would you like that, Ruth had asked, kindly; somewhere quiet to study?

That was a year ago now. She still felt something warm and soft in her gut when she thought of the bed as hers, of the desk as hers, of the little room at the top of the Nolan house hers. She’d given up on such notions a long, long time ago – and yet it had crept up on her when she was least expecting it, in the form of Ruth and David Nolan asking her politely what colour wallpaper she would prefer for the bedroom. Her bedroom.

It meant all she could do was smile when she thought of David wanting to protect her. She didn’t need protecting, but she liked that he wanted to try.

“Does that big strong attitude work on Mary Margaret?”

David immediately flushed beet red, and Emma felt she’d disguised her own pleasure well enough with the tease.

He recovered quickly. “I’m not sure – why, does yours work on Killian?”  

Immediately, she fixed him with an unimpressed look, before shrugging on her coat and lifting what she’d already gathered.

“Why are you doing this?” David asked, as he followed her across the landing. “Indulging this – fantasy?”

We’ve all got ghosts here.

Yeah? Guess that makes me just as haunted as you, then.

He’d been there for her long before she ever thought she’d find a place like the Nolan house.

He deserved her time, and her kindness; and more than anything else, she was happy to give it.

-/-

Present Day

The path leading up to the manor had become completely overgrown, the hedges on either side wild and unruly, reaching for each passerby with clinging, thorny limbs. The usual lush greenery of the entrance had become discoloured and frail, and the pure white exterior of the house had been stained by years of age and negligence. Ivy crawled up the pillars by the front door, creeping out across the brickwork like a slowly spreading sickness, and as Killian mounted the steps at the entrance he almost tripped, a tile underneath his right foot ripping clean away the moment he placed some weight on it.

He was beginning to think Regina didn’t even live there anymore – the Regina he knew would never have let the house that brought so much pride to her family fall into such disrepair, but the waitress at Granny’s had been clear enough. Regina Mills had remained at that address for the last five years, even after the passing of her father.

Killian would have liked to have been a better support for her at the time, or at least offered some condolences; nineteen was far too young to lose a parent. Unfortunately, the fact of the matter was he didn’t find out until several months after the fact, and felt then to drag her back to the moment of its happening just so he could pay his respects would be selfish, and unkind. It had been done enough times to him up to almost two years after Liam’s passing, and he would have hated to wish that kind of prolonged sadness upon Regina. Especially since she had always been prone to such periods of dysphoria on her own.

He raised a hand to the brass knocker and rapped it loudly three times.

At first, he was met with only stillness. Nothing stirred inside the house, at least not that he could hear, and not that he could make out through the frosted glass panes on either side of the door. He decided to knock again.

Just when he was about to lift the brass a third time, the door was suddenly wrenched open with force and he darted backwards instinctively – only to be met with the fierce glare of an intensely irate Regina Mills. She looked much as he remembered, tucked into a dark purple blouse and a black skirt, dark hair framing her face with her characteristic perfect precision. Older, but just as vibrant as she had been the last time, and just as poised.

As soon as it appeared the fury melted away, to be replaced with what Killian could only describe as mild interest, flavoured with a dash of displeasure.

“Oh,” she said, with a decided amount of disappointment. “It’s you.”

Killian’s eyebrows climbed up to his hairline.

“Expecting the Queen, were we?”                            

“Somebody with a greater propensity for courtesy, certainly,” she scoffed, drumming her sharp fingernails on the doorframe. “Most visitors call ahead these days.”

At this Killian merely spread his hands, and Regina stared at him for a few long moments. He had the distinct impression that he was being sized up, as her gaze drifted from his boots up to his hair, then flickered out into the street behind him, almost – almost warily. Her attention was back on him before he could question her on it.

“You better come inside.”

Regina disappeared through the doorway and left it open for him to follow, so after a split-second to gather his wits Killian followed her inside.

The inside of the manor, if possible, looked to be in even greater disarray than the outside.

The wallpaper inside the foyer was beginning to peel from the corners, curling sadly away and baring damp plaster out into the air. Dust and mothballs were starting to amass in the corners of the room, and the flowers that had once stood in symmetry atop the end tables on either side of the entryway to the next room had long since dropped and wilted. Killian could see through to the dining table, stacked with cartons of takeout, juice boxes, and from what he could tell, a baking tray of – apple turnovers?

The clicking of Regina’s heels led him to the left so he didn’t linger to find out, instead stepping through into what once had been the sitting room. The sofas remained, but the old television had been taken out and a large, wooden desk had been brought to the centre of the room; Killian’s jaw almost dropped at what lay atop it.

Vials and vials of strange coloured liquids, stacks of spices, herbs and greenery herded into neat little piles, and mountains of equipment covered every inch. He could make out measuring cylinders, Erlenmeyer flasks (some bubbling, some still), and a boiling flask sat poised above the flame from a blood red candle near the edge of the desk. The steam from whatever fizzled inside that flask was being captured by yet another vessel, spilling into a long, metal tube which emptied into an inky black flagon. An ancient, yellowed tome lay open at the centre, its pages marked with age and stains of various shades, and Killian could spot a crude diagram which matched the skeleton of equipment gathering materials for the vessel at the end.

Regina had gone immediately to the receptacle boiling above the candle, leaning in closer to inspect its contents with a critical eye. The liquid hissed loudly, spitting a few droplets out of the top and Regina scowled, immediately blowing out the candle.

“You made me lose my concentration.”

“I take it,” Killian mused, as he flicked a fingernail against a sour, yellow coloured bottle, which had what he could only compare to three bulging eyeballs floating in its contents staring back at him, “that you started believing in magic?”

“You and I are cut from the same cloth, Killian Jones. That much was always clear.” She dropped a perfectly manicured nail down onto the open page of the book, skimming its contents with a sigh. “We aren’t like David and Mary Margaret. Blithering, diffident clowns. I know what I saw that night, I don’t have to think twice.”

Killian – Killian, don’t –!

“Sometimes I wish I could forget.”

“I don’t.” She shot him a sharp look. “Our memories are our gift. Someone has to carry the truth.”

The truth, Killian decided, did not need carrying. It had enough power on its own.

“It’s put you on quite the path,” he observed, gesturing to her equipment. “I didn’t realise you’d become a practitioner.”

“I… dabble,” Regina demurred, but Killian could see she did more than that. She was far from the supernatural sceptic she had been while they were at school. Once she noticed his gaze lingering on the open book with the worn, heavy pages, her expression lit up – something akin to smugness overtook her then, pride in a discovery. There was a twinkle in her eye he had scarce seen outside of her pleasure at an exceedingly good takedown of a bully that had deserved it.

“After my father passed away, I found some unexpected treasures in the family mausoleum,” she supplied, running her finger down the edge of one page, but angling her body so he might lean in closer and take a look. Regina had always liked to show off her toys. “From what I could surmise, my own mother didn’t even realise it was there. It’s a book of spells, of sorts, of wicca practices. It –”

“It’s a book of shadows,” Killian realised, as he caught a look at a marking scratched into the corner of the page.

Regina blinked, surprised. “How did you know that?”

It was amazing – he’d never been able to take a look at one up close, in his experience he’d found witches to be exceedingly secretive about what was decidedly a personal journey through spirituality. He had spent some time with a coven in Pennsylvania not too long ago, but they had soon grown tired of his unending curiosity and politely asked that he observe them no longer.

The page Regina had open was to an awareness potion, designed to broaden the senses and open the mind to greater influences than it could ordinarily perceive. Whether it worked or not remained to be seen; he had found that much of what purported to be ‘witchcraft’ was as much placebo as it was genuine mysticism. The turquoise liquid she had removed from above the candle appeared to be an attempt at brewing the potion – the first or the last of many, he could not tell.

“I thought a book of shadows needed to be burnt once its witch passed on?”

“Traditionally, yes,” she mused, eyes narrowing as she surveyed him. “That’s… what my research has indicated.”

Killian skimmed the plants and herbs she had strewn around on her desk, spotting what he was looking for quickly. After removing two needle thin leaves of rosemary, he dropped them inside the flask and set it back on its place on the stand. Then, he lit the crimson candle underneath. The liquid began to bubble, slowly changing in colour from a teal shade to something far duller, and bluer. The steam began to drift into the tube above it, and when Killian heard the flagon begin to let out a satisfying hiss he knew he had achieved the correct consistency.

Regina had watched all of this with interest. A flicker of her dark eyes to the crude diagram in the book suggested she realised a beat later than he had that he had given her the desired outcome for the brew.

“Just what have you been doing with yourself for the past five years?”

Killian merely lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “There’s never enough rosemary.”

She let the comment slide with an arched eyebrow that suggested she would soon worm the truth out of him.

“I suppose you’re back in town because of David’s deluded ramblings.”

This surprised him, especially given her clear status as a believer. “You think he imagined it?”

Regina scoffed. “I know, for a fact, that he’s spent five years roiling in guilt over what happened to Emma. I’m surprised it took this long to materialise into a phantom at the end of his bed.” She hesitated, and Killian waited; people always felt more compelled to fill silence with what they knew. “But there is something happening. Look at this.”

With a wave that was more of confidence that he would follow than invitation, she marched across the sitting room to a writing desk wedged into the corner. It was covered with what Killian quickly realised was a map, mostly depicting the east coast. Scarlet lines ran across it in circular motions, tracing shapes into the continent.

“These markings, here –” she traced one with a fingertip, “are ley lines. Spirit roads. They’re often considered areas of great spiritual alignment, even –”

“I know what ley lines are, Regina.”

She pursed her lips. “Then you’ll know that Storybrooke sits at a convergence of two lines.” Her finger landed with a tap on the marker for the town. “Which means only one thing – an abundance of paranormal energy. I often observe and measure the trends in the surrounding area, spikes in electromagnetic readings, irradiated areas, the like.”

Killian grinned. “Like a ghost cartographer.”

Despite herself, a similar smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Something like that, yes. They’re fascinating to document, and a key to me unlocking the secrets in my book.” Her expression turned more serious. “But recently, my readings have been incredibly unusual. Far greater than I’ve observed before. The only thing I can surmise is something is coming – or changing. Something big.”

It couldn’t be a coincidence. David’s reports of the strange goings on that Ruby had corroborated, and a spike in some kind of supernatural energy around town? It all pointed to one thing, it had to. The only true ghost story that Storybrooke didn’t even know it had.

“And Brooke House?” The excitement in Regina’s expression slowly faded away, and she averted her eyes. Something far more sobering overcame her, but he had to know. She spent enough time in the woods. “Have you seen it?”

“No.” Killian tried to mask his disappointment, and on noticing this, she hastened to continue. “But then… I haven’t gone looking.”

He nodded mutely; the day already felt so long. As he paused for a moment to check his phone he realised he had two missed calls from David, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to talk to the man now – he was thinking about ley lines, and curses, and objects you had no sense losing and sounds you had no right hearing. Everything felt so different and yet so paralyzingly the same, and he wasn’t sure what to do with himself next.

Well, he knew what he should do.

Regina had walked back to her workstation and shut the book with a heavy thud, and it hauled him back to the present. He then found himself considering mountains of takeout containers and the dilapidated foyer he had walked through of the once grand Mills mansion. Regina neatened up all of her ingredients with an eager hand, and he recognised in an instant that they had all changed the night Emma disappeared – it had just taken a little longer to manifest itself in her.

Mary Margaret had run away; Regina, apparently, had run right into it.

“When was the last time you ate a proper meal?”

Regina dismissed him with a wave of a hand. “I eat.”

“Something that didn’t come out of a box?”

“I bake,” she insisted hotly, and at his blank look she straightened her blouse and tried to look nonchalant. Killian remembered the tray of apple turnovers he had spied through the hallway. “It helps me relax.”

Killian gritted his teeth; this was no way to live.

(Although he deigned not to own up to the amount of chow mein that had been consumed under blankets in the back of his car over the years.)

“I’ll come back round tomorrow, if that’s alright.” He framed it like he was asking permission, though they both knew he wasn’t. “And I’m bringing a broom.”

Regina seethed with indignance, but Killian shot her a glare that left little room for argument.

It was time they both stopped avoiding what came next.

Which meant only one thing for him: a visit to Brooke House.

-/-

October 14th 2014 – 5 Years Ago

In order to help him retrace his steps through the north woods, Killian had used whatever he had to hand as markers to ensure he returned the correct way. In this case, ‘to hand’ referred to a roll of bright orange string they had been using at school to help decorate for Halloween, which he had been offhandedly aiding in due to Mary Margaret’s fervent request. He had objected enough to Emma in private, arguing why on earth were they still celebrating the end of October in such a way now they were already seventeen, but he begrudgingly admitted that the work had proven its worth as he remembered the string he had hastily shoved in his pocket last Friday.

The trio – she, Killian and David – trudged through the brush, copper and gold leaves crunching loudly underfoot, pausing only for Killian to quickly search for the next marker to inform them which direction they should head in. Against the vermilion palette of the forest in the throes of the New England fall, they weren’t always the easiest to spot.

They stayed mostly in a ponderous, companionable quiet; Killian kept his keen focus on the path ahead, and David and Emma occasionally exchanged uneasy glances. Neither were quite sure what they would find once they reached the end of the proverbial trail. It was easy to fall into a rhythm of their boot prints upon the ground, and it gave Emma enough time to truly consider the kind of support she wanted to offer to their friend if it didn’t quite go his way.

“Have you thought about what you’d like to do for your birthday?”

Jerked out of her reverie, Emma shot David a reproachful look.

“You know what I’d like to do. Nothing.”

David spread his hands. “You’re turning eighteen – that’s a big deal. An adult. Finally legally able to play the lottery, and I know how much that’s been killing you to wait for.”

“Please.”

“Or vote? Mary Margaret loves to vote. After the sheriff election last month she kept her ‘I Voted’ sticker on for two weeks.”

“Is that what that was?” Killian remarked over his shoulder, hesitating to touch the tip of his finger to a piece of string wound around a nearby branch.

“You can also get married,” David continued, “file a lawsuit.”

“Join the army,” Killian offered.

“Get a tattoo.”

“Legally have sex in every state.”

This, Killian offered with a wink, and David thumped him heavily on the arm. “Hey.”

“Guys, forget it,” Emma laughed, “you know how I feel about birthdays, I don’t want to do anything. Maybe grab some popcorn and watch a film with you guys and Ruth – maybe Mary Margaret, Regina.”

“So, the same thing we do every week?” David sighed.

She shrugged. “Suits me.”

“Wait.”

Killian raised a hand and they halted obediently, only for Emma’s gaze to land on exactly what had caught his just moments before. Through the trees, around fifty or so yards away, a house could be spotted amongst the pines – if the way Killian had tensed was any indication, it was the one he believed to be Brooke House.

Emma and David broke into a jog to keep up with Killian, dashing rapidly closer to the old structure, and as they drew up to the front she took a moment to observe just what they had been led to.

The house was hugely run down, dilapidated and crooked, the white brick in the bulk of most of the structure long since dirtied by the clutches of nature, and its wooden fascia rotting in places as it oozed damp and sap. It was small, just two stories with an attic window protruding from the gable, with notable portions of the roof visible where branches had grown in between the tiles and, in some cases, pushed them free – the ground was littered with a few shattered slates on either side. Most of the windows were either cracked or missing panes altogether, and the ivy scaling the walls gave it the air of something reclaimed by the earth. The build was distinctly Victorian in style, like a townhouse, almost; and that very fact made its standing there deeply incongruous with the miles of wood surrounding them. She had been expecting a cabin or something far more rustic, a holidaymaker’s home fit for an unfair prank, but this – this was something different.

An entrance on the left-hand side hung with a wooden arch, perfectly circular and its edges reaching almost to the ground, providing a canopy over the stern, chestnut door. It was already open.

As Killian had said, a sign hung above the doorway underneath the canopy, yellowed with age, but the writing still clear enough to make out. Brooke House.

She could see why Killian hadn’t wanted to enter alone.

After a moment just to take it all in, she felt him reach for her hand. Squeezing just once, she tried to make her smile as encouraging as possible.

David led the way, a sense of trepidation gripping Killian, but after she tugged on their connected hands his boots spurred into motion and they began mounting the steps. They trod carefully, the wood mostly rotted away and creaking ominously underfoot, and the door let out a deep, yawning groan as David pushed it open wider. 

The entrance opened to reveal a dark hallway, the air thick and musty and immediately scratched the back of Emma’s throat, so much so that she made sure her mouth was clamped shut even as it wanted to slacken with wonder. On their immediate left was a narrow staircase, crooked and tired with a few steps crumbling away to reveal a gaping blackness underneath. In the dim light she could just about see through to the rear of the house, and spotted what looked to be an old kitchenette and table, but Killian was switching on his torch and leading her out through another door on the right which had fallen from its hinges and now dangled dangerously into the next room. It was clearly an old sitting room, several large but indeterminate items of furniture covered with large, white sheeting, and an antique coffee table resting in the centre. The curtains were of a delicate white lace material which had dulled with age, now moth-eaten and draping miserably in front of the windows. Emma could see out into the woods, but the trees looked far more sinister from this angle - she wasn’t sure what to make of it. 

She was certainly wrong about one thing; this was no holidaymaker’s getaway. Clearly nobody had lived in this house for years. 

While Emma found her attention drawn to the more barren features of the house, a few moments after they entered the sitting room Killian abruptly released her hand with a cry, and darted towards the back of the room. There, hidden behind a large piece she could only assume was a sofa of some kind, was a large toolbox sat beside two long planks of wood. The fading wallpaper had also been peeled off from that corner of the room pulling outwards, baring the wood paneling underneath. Some of the dirt had been scrubbed away with clear intent, and an abandoned bucket, sponge and pair of gloves had been left underneath it. 

Killian immediately scrambled for the lock on the toolbox, wrenching it open. 

“This is Liam’s,” he confirmed what Emma had already suspected, as she exchanged a surprised look with David. “Look. See?” He ripped off a battered photograph that had been taped just inside the lid, thrusting it up to show her. As Emma peered closer she could just about make out the image of two young boys and an older woman with her arm around each. From the photos she had seen of Liam Jones the taller boy could just as easily be him, and the lines of Killian’s dimpled grin could be traced in the smaller of the two. 

“He was here. He was right - about all of it. He’d been working on Brooke House just like he said.” 

Exaggerated, deluded, fiction; that was what she had been told. The ramblings of an unfortunate young man who believed in ghosts, yet the evidence was unmistakable. At least at some stage, Liam Jones had been in this house - he had brought his tools, he had started his work, and he had just as soon abandoned it without a word. 

And then his car had been found at the bottom of a ravine. 

“If you’ll forgive me for saying, Killian,” David began slowly, taking it all in with caution, “it doesn’t look like Liam got much work done.” 

Aside from that one, tiny corner, it didn’t look like much of the room (nay, the house) had been touched at all. 

“But how could they have missed this?” Emma frowned, stepping back over to the window again to look out. She thought she could spot one of Killian’s orange strings tied to a nearby trunk. “Everyone was looking for Brooke House after he died. You can’t tell me almost every resident of Storybrooke, which includes you, Killian, just so happened to skip right past a place that fit the exact description he’d given to anyone who cared to listen?” She shook her head, doubtful. “This has to be some sort of trick, or - prank.” 

“Anybody could have gotten hold of Liam’s toolbox,” David added. “Then left it here for you to find.”

In a manner that slightly irked her at first, Killian didn’t bother acknowledging their speculations; he was rifling through the toolbox instead and once she noticed, Emma immediately felt a small wave of guilt wash over her. How it got there or not, Killian unequivocally believed this toolbox belonged to the brother he had lost over four years ago. He didn’t need their suppositions at the moment, just a little time to process. 

“Hey,” she said quietly, after crossing over to the corner and kneeling beside him, “are you okay?”

Killian let out a long breath, a hard crease in his brow. “I didn’t think I’d see any of this stuff again. Lost, I’d assumed, when I was moved out of our apartment. I was only twelve.” This, he offered her with a wry smile, patting a hand on her wrist to show he knew she was there. “I didn’t know what I’d want to keep or throw away back then when all I wanted was Liam home again.” 

David shuffled awkwardly by the doorway. “I’m gonna go check out the kitchen.”

As if that was the first statement to properly penetrate his reverie, Killian shook his head and straightened. He stuffed the photograph into the pocket of his jacket and was about to close the toolbox again when Emma suddenly spotted something underneath the haphazard placement of the tools. She halted his movements, before carefully moving the dusty implements out of the way. Folded neatly underneath all of them was a single sheet of paper, worn along its edges as if it had been opened and re-folded many times, and Emma slipped it out. 

In the wild moment of its discovery Emma had thought it might be something significant; a letter for Killian, a note about the house, a cry for help, but she sternly admonished herself when it was revealed to be a couple of simple doodles etched in pencil onto the paper. This wasn’t a movie, this was Killian’s life. In the real world you didn’t find suicide notes four years too late buried in toolboxes in creepy old houses. 

She threw Killian an apologetic look, but he took the paper from her anyway and slipped it into his pocket with the photograph. It was still a piece of Liam - Emma had never known the elder Jones, but he clung to every inch of this room like a spectre. She could scarcely imagine why Killian could even bear to walk among it. 

As one they decided to stand and try to catch up with David, but when they peeked inside the old kitchen he was nowhere to be found. Killian cast a doubtful glance at the rickety staircase with the splintered bannister, but Emma shrugged; he could have easily grown bored and wanted to rise to the second storey of the house. With an overly flamboyant bow, Killian gestured for her to go first, to which she rolled her eyes and obliged, albeit slowly. 

The stairway creaked rather ominously beneath her, and she eyed the steps rotted away with an air of unease - it would be just her luck for one of them to give way underneath her and leave her leg hanging amongst whatever wildlife had likely chosen to take up residence under the staircase until the boys could haul her back up again. As a result she made every effort to test her weight on each step before committing to it, growing in confidence the higher she ascended. 

One of Killian’s hands rested near the small of her back, gently, as if ready to catch her if she lost her balance. Despite the circumstances the thought shot a little thrill right through her.

If possible, the second floor was narrower than the first, and they had to move single file as they began taking slow steps deeper into the house. A discomfiting stillness had settled, like the farther they walked from the entrance, the more disconnected they became from the forest they had travelled through to reach it. Emma could scarcely hear the distant rustle of nature now, only the grinds and groans of the old structure, of the wind whistling through shattered panes and withered, rotting wood. 

Killian walked closely behind her and she felt his sharp intake of breath, as if readying himself to speak, when a loud creak rang out from one of the bedrooms just off the hallway. Their eyes instantly snapped in that direction.

“David?” Emma called out. 

There was no response, from David or otherwise, other than a second groan of old wood, like smart shoes upon dusty floorboards - at least, that was the mirage that her mind had instantly conjured, although she did not know from where it had arisen. With startling clarity she could picture the exact shade of the worn leather, pacing back and forth between the walls of the bedroom. Almost unbidden, her pulse began to quick as she kept her gaze fixed on the closed door. 

“That was the noise,” Killian murmured, and she distantly registered he was speaking from close to her ear, “that was the noise that made me leave the trail, and find the house.” 

Another rasp. 

It did prompt the image of the old sign of Gold’s Pawnbrokers, swaying back, and forth, like an ancient metronome of Main Street.

There was something, some feeling or sensation that lingered near the place she drew breath that told her it wasn’t David, that brought the vision of soles on boards, that had her heart fluttering with each iteration of the noise, groaning, scraping, tugging her towards it like it had a fist at her breast as she inched steadily closer –

Only when Killian squeezed her hand in one quick, reassuring motion did she realise she must’ve reached for his unconsciously. 

It broke the spell.

Heat rose from her collarbone and instantly she dropped it, throwing a grateful look over the shoulder. This was ridiculous. Again, she felt a mild irritation for her tendency to fall back on the conventions that cinema had spent her whole life convincing her were truth, and instead decided, hell, and marched headfirst to the source of the sound. 

“Emma, wait -” Killian gaped, alarmed, but she had already thrown open the door. 

Only later did she consider that doing anything in Brooke House with a show of force would be unwise, if not just as a result of the aged skeleton that the structure was built on, but luckily other than the handle clanging noisily against the wall of the bedroom, no great calamity occurred. 

Instead, the door had swung open to reveal a completely bare room, other than a spinning wheel turning slowly in the corner, creaking with each full rotation it completed. For a moment Emma watched, astounded, as it seemed to move on its own, an ancient pedal rising and falling off the ground in time with its soft and measured pace; but the explanation surely lay in the missing glass panes of the window, and the gentle breeze drifting in from the outside. 

Eerie as it was, there was nothing supernatural about it. 

“Gods, that’s creepy,” Killian muttered, and Emma resisted the urge to laugh. 

She crossed over to it and stopped the mechanism with one hand on the wheel, the pedal halting in midair as she did so. Much like the rest of the house, it was made of an old, dusty wood, and could do with a polish, but otherwise the apparatus remained largely in act. In sporadic piles beneath it, small strands of what looked like straw had been scattered about. 

After Killian pointed it out, Emma raised her shoulder in an amused shrug. “Maybe they were trying to make -” 

A flurry of movement in front of her face cut her off, and with a cry of fright she fell back from the window, limbs flailing reflexively against the sudden onslaught and she stumbled straight into Killian, who instantly tried to steady her with two firm hands on her upper arms. Hidden in the dark beside the wheel, a single crow had been nesting and, disturbed by her movements, had shot into the air with an indignant squawk and fluttered to the window. It hopped there for barely a second before disappearing out into the open air. 

“Are you alright?” Killian tugged her round to look him in the eye, searching hers for any signs of injury. 

Emma willed her racing heart to slow, immediately letting out a breathy laugh of embarrassment; she’d been a wreck ever since they entered the damn house, and she felt completely spun off her normal axis. She was supposed to be the one with the level-head, her toes curled into the ground beneath them, rooting them. It had always been her job to catch Killian when his mind was wandering away with him, not the other way round. Instead his steady presence felt like the only thing keeping her from floating away from herself. 

She let out a shaky breath. “I bet you’re regretting asking me to be the one to come with you at this point.” 

Killian only shook his head. “No,” he said, with a soft smile. “But we should find David.”

David, right. The third member of their party apparently still wandering the dark halls of the house. 

Although the thundering of footsteps from the hallway behind them appeared to somewhat account for him. 

“Was someone yelling?” David called, alarmed. After he poked his head around the door and found the pair of them a little shaken, but fine, he let out a noise of relief. “Jeesh. I was convinced the roof had come down on you or something. This place is seconds from collapsing.” 

“Nothing like that,” Emma said, noticing she was still clinging tightly to the front of Killian’s coat, and instantly releasing it. “But maybe we should go.”

The statement was directed mostly at Killian, this was his journey from the off - but she wasn’t sure what else he was expecting to find. Whether this was the house Liam had spoken about or not, it seemed clear that most of his time within it had been spent in the room with the most evidence of his work, the sitting room at the front of the ground floor. There were only two other rooms that she could see on the landing, and David informed them they were just another bedroom and what looked like a study or library. 

Killian seemed to weigh up his options, a tic jumping in his jaw as he looked between them. 

After a few quiet moments he let out a long, agitated sigh; she could sense the source of his frustration. Needing to let something go and not being ready to was an emotion she was more than familiar with.

“Maybe we should.”

“I did find something else we could try and take a peek at,” David suggested, perhaps detecting his reluctance, “looked like the door to an attic or something.”

At the look of relief that flashed across Killian’s features, Emma immediately agreed for them and followed David out of the room. At the end of the landing, near the back of the house, he pointed out a square wooden panel in the ceiling that looked like it could be removed, with a metal ring barely wider than a finger attached to it. With some difficulty, the two taller boys scrabbled at the edges of the panel and managed to tug it out of its slot. As it fell, a rickety ladder slid down to the floor.

In an overt show of faux gentlemanliness, they both suggested Emma go first. 

Rolling her eyes, she began to climb as gingerly as she could, reasonably assured in the knowledge that if something of it collapsed or she fell back, she would probably have her fall cushioned by either or both of them.

She needn’t have worried. After reaching the top safely, she could barely spot anything through the darkness; the only light dappled in from one single window at the other end of the attic, and quickly pulled her torch out to have a look around. 

“Oh,” David said, once he’d climbed up to join her, “I was kinda convinced this would be something a little more exciting.” 

Like the bedroom, the attic was mostly bare, save for some odd pieces of furniture scattered about, most covered in sheets. A chaise longue, a few crates and a dusty bookcase stuffed to the brim, with volumes toppling out of its edges and accumulating in piles around it, and onto a large writing desk next to it. Also atop the desk sat a selection of vials, some with contents of rather startling shades, a few candles, and several sheets of yellowed paper curling at the edges. 

In pieces on the floor, a glass photo frame had shattered. The shards crunched underfoot as Emma crossed the room to the bookcase, lifting a finger to brush the spines of some of the old covers. Most were nondescript, no titles to speak of, and the rest had faded too lightly for her to make them out. 

An audible clink sounded behind her, and Emma turned to watch Killian lifting the faded photograph from underneath the glass, the fragments falling back onto the floor. It was an old sepia image of a young woman with a heart shaped face, gazing warmly into the lens.

“Who is she?” she peered a little closer at the image. 

Killian shrugged. “Maybe she lived here. Somebody had to have lived here, at some stage.” It certainly seemed that way. Houses didn’t just sprout from the earth, they had to be built, their foundations pressed into the ground. A spinning wheel didn’t appear from nothing, and neither did the other small effects they had found in its halls. “‘Beauty’,” Killian read aloud from the back of the photo, written in long, cursive script. 

“Got that right,” David mused. 

There wasn’t much else to see; the boys turned to go. 

Only Emma hesitated, something catching her eye on the opposite side of the ladder; it was hidden deep in the slope of the roof, so tucked away that she almost hadn’t spotted it, but now her eyes were adjusting she could easily make out the outline of two small doors for what looked to be some kind of armoire. The doors were intricately decorated, with dark and curved painted strokes, twisting around the two handles like vines about a tree trunk.

Something in the depths of her gut stirred; like she had just heard an achingly familiar song and was overcome with a desire to move to it, the pull of something paralysingly sweet and sad beckoning for her to move closer.

She wanted to know what was inside. 

Or whatever was inside wanted to know her.

Emma took just two halting steps towards it –

Before Killian called her name from the ladder, softly, and broke the enchantment. 

She blinked back at him. “Uh, sorry?”

“I said we’re going,” he repeated, “You were right - and it’s getting late. We can always come back tomorrow.” 

Emma hesitated, her attention still captured by the wardrobe in the corner of the attic. Killian misinterpreted her pause for a different kind of uncertainty. 

“If you want to, that is.” 

“Of course,” she replied immediately, the willing of her legs to start moving towards the ladder taking an unusual amount of effort. “As often as you want.” 

Even as they finally departed the house to head back through the woods, the dimness outside heralding the approach of dusk and a brisk warning that soon they would run out of daylight, Emma could still feel her heart hammering when she thought of that wardrobe, shut behind the attic door that the boys had carefully lifted closed. 

Something remarkable laid in wait inside it; she could feel it in her bones.

And she was desperate to find out what. 

-/-

Present Day

The orange string had by now turned a murky brown against the surge of time, but Killian was still able to retrace the skeleton of the path he had taken the others down, veering off from the White Pine Trail in the north woods toward where Brooke House had stood. Dusk was rapidly approaching, and the further he walked, the more he considered that he should have waited until morning – should have returned David’s calls – should have left the ghosts that had haunted Liam Jones alone a long, long time ago.

The sky was beginning to turn from a pastel pink to midnight blue, and he had brought just two things with him for protection against the dark; the torch lit at his side, and the dagger. Its intricate, curved edges glittered dangerously with every touch of light.

Brooke House stood, as he had imagined it would, exactly where he had left it. Cracked brickwork, shattered windows and empty hallways.

Silence lay steadily at its feet.

Killian was done playing games.

He marched up the rotted steps and pushed the front door open, allowing the torch to flicker around to catch any unexpected surprises. Conceding that the hallway was clear, he entered the sitting room - there, lying untouched on the floor as if he had walked straight into the past, lay the spirit board that Regina had volunteered all those years ago. The planchette sat a few feet away, beside two discarded plastic bottles of water. An old scarlet scarf, an Apollo chocolate bar wrapper. Everything, exactly as they had left it. 

Killian turned to the remainder of the room; dark and vast, he did his best to bring himself up to his full height, even as his heart began to thump a steady beat against his chest. 

He brandished the dagger in front of him. 

“Alright,” he announced to the empty walls, “I’m here. You’ve got my full attention.” He swallowed. “That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

To bring him back to Storybrooke, to drag him right back under again. There were no questions as to motive; ever since he had received that voicemail from David he had known the purpose of it all like he had known the way his soul had yearned for home. Adjusting his grip, he stayed alert for any sign of movement. He could feel his hand beginning to sweat where it grasped tightly onto the metal handle.

“So all of this nonsense can end,” he continued with vehemence, “Ruby, David, the town - you leave them out of this. D’you hear me?” 

For a beat, his words turned to ghosts. Fell on the dead ears of phantom listeners, but then - something changed in the room, an almost atmospheric shift. He felt the hair at the nape of his neck begin to flutter, warm air brushing it away and he froze. Something moved along the curve of his shoulder, like a fingernail, lightly scratching against his leather jacket. The scent of wildflowers and old pines assaulted him, the forest pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his neck and after a moment he thought he heard her laugh, falling like raindrops from a great distance. 

He closed his eyes, willed it into truth. 

Don’t tell me - it’s hot cocoa, with cinnamon, and you’re about to hand it over.

A voice came from behind him, and it felt like the slow draw of a fingertip up his spine; velvet, intimate, but soft enough to make him want to squirm away.

“Hello, Killian.” 

The otherness of it slammed into him with the force of a freight train. It was too deep, too slow, too much.

Killian - Killian, don’t -!

Gathering all the courage he could muster, he whirled around.

And the sight of her stole the breath from his lungs. 

There, in a white gown that had been dirtied by the muddied forest floor, her blonde tresses crowned by a circlet of dark, withering petals, and her eyes a storm of jade and gentle fury, stood Emma Swan.

The corner of her lip curled upwards, so familiar and so alien, and she began to take slow, elegant steps towards him. A predator stalking her prey. 

Killian forgot how to breathe. 

“So good of you to finally come and see me.”

[justsomeiimagines-blog]

No Matter What

note: hi! im back hooowaaaa! writing was hard for me to do because i had school and semi mental health problems! i graduated high school last month and been taking time to write! for this baby i have another two parts to this one in the works :) i wouldve added it all in one but its already over 9000 words so doing this in parts is easier :-)

word count: the app i was using to write this said this was 6808 words but idk (which is why i decided to do all this in parts!)

"Y/N I like you, I mean like like you," Your friend Liam, said as you two stood in the middle school hallway. You gulped and hid away your fear that was trying to burst through, you had words to say but you couldn't find them, you froze up.

"Are you going to say something? Y/N?" Liam said waving his hand in front of your face snapping you back into reality. You nodded your head and pushed past him making your way to the front school doors. You felt your wrist being softly grasped, you looked up and met his eyes that were full of desperation, you were going to try to find something to say when you felt your phone vibrate it in your pocket, taking it out you saw Sams name and text letting you know they were out front.

"I-I uh I-I got to go," You said in a trembling tone as you flashed the text Sam sent and released your self from his grasp and dashing out of the school door.

The whole ride home you were quiet and staring out the window.

"Everything go okay?" You heard Sams voice, looking up you see him glancing at you and Dean eyeing you while he drove. You nodded your head "y-yeah um just tired, that's all," You said as you gave him a reassuring smile before turning back to the window as your mind ran fast with confusion and fear.

He gave you another concerned glance before sharing a short glance with Dean who just shrugged and turned up the Led Zeppelin and sitting back down.

When you all piled into the motel room you rushed towards the bathroom, closing the door (locking it behind you of course). Your brothers shared another glance at each other and then looked at the bathroom door, "maybe she just really had to go," Dean said as he shrugged again as he threw himself on the bed and grabbing his laptop getting ready to research more on the hunt,

Sam, on the other hand, had a feeling there was something off, he looked back at the bathroom door once more before grabbing a book and dancing his eyes on more lore, his mind trying to figuring out what could be up with you.

You just stood there watching yourself in the mirror, what felt like second to minutes hearing a knock on the door, you then heard the soft voice of Sam, "Hey you good in there, kid? its been over an hour." You furrowed your brows before opening the door revealing your brothers standing there with a concerned look to there eyes. You nodded "Yeah yeah I'm fine, jeez has it really been an hour?" You checked your phone seeing they weren't lying, you pushed past them heading to the mini fridge grabbing yourself a coke.

You could almost feel their concerned eyes burning into your soul from behind you, "You know you suck at lying Y/N" Dean spoke up as he walked towards you, Sam slowly behind him. You turned around and faked being offended "Uh, No I'm not," You said taking a sip of the cold sugary drink.

"Y/N, we can't help if you don't tell us, kid."

"You know you can come to us for anything, we won't judge you,"

You groaned and looked up at the ceiling and back down at the ground as you felt your heart ache a little at the last sentence, "there's nothing to tell my dear brothers, I'm fine, pinky promise," You lied looking at both brothers as you put down your soda on the counter behind you and held out both of your pinkys and had a small reassuring smile to them as you.

Both still unconvinced they reached out and grabbed your one of your pinky with theirs, you kissed both of your thumbs and released.

You took your coke back into your hands and heading to one of the beds laying down and turning on the TV, leaving your brothers having a silent conversation with each other.

You couldn't sleep later that night, you were laying on your side back away from a sleeping Sam you were sharing the bed with. You replayed the actions of today and felt the tears you were holding back come rolling down as you got lost in thought.

'What's wrong with me?'

------

*4 years later*

You were sixteen now and finally figured out who you were, you were relieved and happy but you couldn't also help but feel a little ashamed in who you were. You couldn't be open, you couldn't really experience who you were.

You entered the bunker, your heart beating a mile a minute as you tried to fight and hide the fear that was coming through, but you were losing that battle. You walked down the bunkers stairs and made your way to the library to see your brothers consumed in lore. "Hey guys," You said faking a happy tone gleeful smile "Hey kiddo, how was your day?" Dean asked as he smiled back at you as Sam looked up to you. "It was good, the usual," you huffed sitting on the table across from your brothers, "I actually had something to tell you, both of you actually," You said as you felt the fear in you is kicking in faster, your heart beating faster. "What's going on? everything good?" Sam said as he pushed the book full of lore away from him and turning his attention to you, you eyed both of your brothers "I- I I'm uh um.." You could hardly get those two little words out of your mouth.

'Why was this so hard?'

"You're not pregnant, are you? Who was it? I swear I'm going to rip their throats out!" You heard Dean rambled and exclaimed about a boy who didn't even exist, You raised your eyebrows in amusement and shock, watching as Sam was now silently in the same mood as Dean. you were going to say something but he kept going. "OKAY, OKAY DEAN!" you groaned out causing him to stop to look at you and Sam to snap out of his thoughts. "There are two major things that came out of your mouth that were all over the place on your first rant," You said putting your hand up in a circular motion making Dean furrow his eyebrows in confusion as he tried to figure out what he said and Sam just looked up at you with the same furrowed confusion.

You took a deep breath looking at the ceiling of the bunker

here goes nothing.

"In order to get pregnant I need to be attracted to the opposite sex," You said in a rushed sentence, seeing both brothers confusion to more confusion then realization, "and two just outta curiosity how would you rip out a throat? You going to ask the nice vampire in the house next block over to turn you for 24 hours and heal yourself?" You said nervously trying to change the subject before they could say or do anything.

You stopped yourself from going further heaving out a sigh, you lightly hit the table with your hands and closed your eyes, "What I'm trying to say is Sam, Dean I'm gay," You said as you kept your eyes closed not wanting to see the hatred on their faces.

The silence in the room grew what felt like hours, when really it was just seconds, you could feel the hot tears beginning to rush down your cheeks, you jumped off the table and started to head to your room when you felt someone grasp your wrist in a gentle but firm hold and quickly crashing you to their chest, holding you close.

You were taken back a little by the sudden movement you took in the scent of Dean, you wrapped your arms tightly around him as the tears still flowed down, creating a wet spot on his shirt.

"I- we love you no matter what, we just want you to be happy and be who you are, always." You heard Deans soft yet gruffly voice rang through your ears, you smiled into his chest "Thank you," you whispered and squeezing him a little tighter before releasing from each other grasps.

You were pulled into another pair of arms. Sam. You smiled softly in his chest as you took in his scents. "I'm so proud of you kiddo, and like Dean said we love you no matter what, okay?" He said as he rested his chin on your head, holding you close to him a little tighter.

You softly nodded into his chest and rested into his arms a little longer before letting each other go. You stood in front of your brothers and softly smiled at them "I love you both too, Thank you" was all you could manage to say while the smile stayed stuck to your face.

"You don't ever have to thank us for something as simple as this, kid, thank you for telling us," Dean said, Sam nodded in agreement as they both smiled back at you.

You huffed out in relief through your nose and looked at the ground,

I did it.

You looked back up at your brothers and clapped your hands, "okay enough of this sappy stuff, you guys catch a case?"

They chuckled slightly and nodded as they sat back down again, filling you in on a possible case.

just like that, that small feeling of being ashamed started to fade.

part 2 coming soon :)

[ilovereadingandilovebreathing]

Sorry to ask lol but could you do a teacher AU where the students find Roman or Virgil on Tumblr and just freak out

Lol you’re good; I haven’t done teacher stuff in a while. This is a very real fear, soo...this’ll be fun.

I’m not sure if you want the kids or teachers to freak out, but trust me, there’d be way more freaking on the teachers’ end of things.

I went back and forth on this because on one hand Virgil might be too paranoid to have a tumblr as a teacher but on the other hand if he had it in high school....Roman doesn’t have time for tumblr these days, tbh, but I’ll include him since you asked for him specifically!

Idk if this is as freak out as you wanted; I’m boring and went for realism so sorry if it’s not up to standard lol

That Tuesday started out like any other:

His Tuesday/Thursday homeroom kids were as chatty and apathetic to announcements as ever.

His first two classes of Honors American Lit. kids were as attentive as always, offering brilliant and insightful connections between themselves, society, and The Crucible.

By all accounts, it was a normal Tuesday.

Until his Mythology students came trailing back from lunch, some of them barely hiding giggles and elongated stares from their desks.

“Alright.” Virgil began teasingly as the final bell rang. “Do I have something on my face? My shirt?” He threw a glance behind his back. “Did Randy tape something to my back again?”

Half of the small class exploded into laughter, but the other half gazed between their teacher and peers wondering what great joke they’d missed out on.

“It’s nothing, Mr. Anderson.” An outspoken and bright student named Cam spoke up. “Kya just made an interesting discovery last night and shared it with the whole lunch table.”

“I’m sure I don’t even want to know.” Virgil grinned and rolled his eyes as he passed out their class set mythology texts to each of his 15 students.

“Today we’ll be tackling a classic story: Baucis and Philemon. It includes love, hospitality, and a couple of God’s playing make believe.”

A choral snicker ran through a certain side of the room again, but Virgil fixed them with a look and pulled up an interactive PowerPoint.

The rest of the lesson went off without a hitch, and the students seemed eager to jump into their assigned tasks to teach the class (finding allusions to Jupiter’s and Mercury’s roles or Baucis and Philemon’s roles in movies, books, or TV shows.)

Partway through work time, though, Cam sauntered up to Virgil’s desk and perched there for a minute before cupping a hand over his mouth with a conspiratorial glint in his eye.

“So, Mr. Anderson, I have a question.”

“Sure, Cam; what’s up?”

“Well, I’m wondering: is ‘student A’ in ‘A Crazy Halloween Story’ referring to Jessica Simmons or Kaley Aldrin? Because both have you for honors and dressed up as Harley Quinn for Halloween.”

Virgil’s brain stuttered to a halt, and he took all of his energy to school his expression, making certain his eyes didn’t give away the screaming anxiety erupting within his chest. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Cam.” Virgil cocked his head to the side in an effort to lighten the tension only one of them felt. “What do Jessica or Kaley and Halloween have to do with Baucis and Philemon?”

“Oh, right. You gotta play it cool. Can’t let the kids know about your social media. I gotchu.” Cam nudged Virgil with an elbow and a stage wink. “Secret’s safe with me, Anxious Orpheo-I mean, Mr. A.” Cam pushed off of the side of his desk and went back to his group, the other members having abandoned their work to stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at Cam’s boldness.

“I told you-”

“Holy crap-”

“You’re full of it, Cam; he never confirmed it.”

“You heard me, Emily! He can’t!”

Virgil inhaled and exhaled deeply, hands gripping and releasing under his desk as he fought to keep the fear from his features. Thank god he had planning after this.

-

When the bell rang some time later, Virgil let out a huge sigh, smiling at his last student, Kya, as she meandered toward the door, paused, and rushed over to his desk.

“Mr. Anderson. I’m so sorry I told everyone about your Tumblr. I mean....everyone in this class. Well, really on that side of the class, but anyway, I haven’t told anyone else I swear! And I didn’t even mean for Cam or Emily or anyone else to find out; I was just showing your posts to Liam at lunch, but Cam was being nosy and overheard. I’m so so sorry, and I’ll try to make sure he doesn’t tell anyone so you don’t get in trouble! Oh my god I’m just so sorry.” Kya took a deep break, and Virgil let his guard fall just a hair, his eyes turning down at the sides.

“It’s alright, Kya. Students have spread far worse rumors about teachers before. Me having a Tumble isn’t the worst thing someone can say.”

“Tumblr.” Kya corrected.

“Right.” Virgil smiled. “I appreciate your apology, Kya, but don’t worry about it too much, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Mr. Anderson, and I really am sorry.”

“I know. Now go on before you’re late.”

“Oh, yeah, right. Bye!” Kya waved and sped out the door.

As soon as she was definitively gone, Virgil slumped into his chair, eyes staring dejectedly at his dark computer screen before sighing and running a hand through his hair. Well, this was certainly not how he expected things to go today.

-

“Oh, Virge, you’re in here!”

Virgil’s head shot up to see Roman peeking around his doorway.

“Yes, it’s shocking to find me in my own classroom.”

“Well usually Ortega is in here during planning.”

“They’re in the computer lab working on a paper.”

“Oh, nice...Anyway, your copies have been sitting in the work room since this morning.” Roman strutted into the room revealing the large stack of copies against his hip.

“Thanks, But...Roman....you’re not on planning right now.”

“As per usual, you are correct, my dear darkling, but you also know that those kids are pretty self-sufficient. Plus Remy is staying all day today since our first show is tonight.”

“They might as well not have a teacher at all.”

“Take that back! Remy is a great co-teacher!”

“When he’s working. He’s not even on the clock now. He’s probably on his phone.”

“Fair point, but you’re not Logan, so why are you pointing all of this out?” Roman set his stack on a nearby desk and pulled up another, sitting on the hardtop as he looked Virgil up and down. “What’s up? You’re tense.”

Virgil sighed. “Shut the door first?”

Roman scurried to the classroom door and made a show of closing it quietly. “Ooo something juicy?”

“Kind of. Not really. More horrifying and embarrassing.”

“Oh joy which was it this time?” Roman asked dramatically as he perched back on the desk, his feet in the chair and hands steepled over his knees.

“....one of my mythology kids found my tumblr and accidentally told half of the class about it.”

“1) That sucks. 2) How do you ‘accidentally’ tell 8 people about something?”

“Another kid was being nosy.”

“Unnamed kid you tell me about?”

“One of them.”

“Ah.” Roman considered for a moment. “I mean there are worse things.”

“I know. That’s what I said too when the bean spiller apologized, but...I’ve had that thing since I was their age, Roman, who knows what kind of shit they can dig up! I can’t remember half of the emotionally charged stuff I posted on there, and I know there’s posts about my sexuality on there, too.” Virgil froze. “Oh god, what if they find my old fan fiction?!”

Roman couldn’t contain a small chuckle at that. “Then they’ll know you’re a legit writer.”

“Ro, this is serious.” Virgil folded his legs into his chair and leaned back, sighing again and staring at the speckled ceiling. “What if they find something...objectionable and tell their parents? And the parents tell the principal? What if I get fired?!”

“Did you post anything that bad?”

“Probably not....but I did post stories about stuff that happened in class.”

“Oooo...yeah that can be tricky territory. Did you get super specific?”

“In the story part, I guess.”

“Did you drop names, kids or the school or anything someone could use to identify?”

“No.”

Roman sighed. “Well, I mean what can you do, you know? You didn’t explicitly give names or the school or any concrete identifying information, right?”

“Right, but all they’d have to do is look at my phone.”

“What reason do they have unless the kids complain about it? You can always put a lock or something on it, right? There are private accounts.”

“I don’t know if I can at this point, but I guess I can try. Don’t know how much good it will do when I already have a few hundred followers.”

“Just 300?”

“Almost 1000.”

“Ooo yeah that is a little more significant. Geez tumblr has millions of followers, and somehow they stumbled on you.”

“Yeah. It sucks.”

“I mean....the initial kid apologized, right?”

“Yeah. She claims she won’t spread it anymore and will keep blabbermouth kid quiet, but we’ll see.”

“Don’t stress about it too much. They seem like good kids, so I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“God, I hope so.”

“Well, it’s probably about time I get back to my little rugrats. You’re coming to our show, yeah?”

“If I don’t self-combust first.” Virgil pulled out a small smile. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Great!” Roman vaulted off of the desk, grabbed his stack of papers, and made for the door. He paused for a moment in the doorway and turned, his expression softer than Virgil ever remembers seeing. “It’s gonna be okay, Virge. Don’t let it get you too worked up, okay?”

“I’ll try. Thanks, Ro.” Virgil waved him off and sighed before sitting back up to try to get something done.

“Uh, Mr. Anderson?”

Virgil’s jaw clenched involuntarily at the familiar tone, and he looked up to find a familiar blonde in the doorway. “Cam. I thought you had chemistry this period.”

“I do, but I finished my lab already, so Mr. Harris let me ‘go to the bathroom.’” He accentuated with air quotes. “Um but I really came here to apologize.”

“What for?”

“Kya kinda ripped me a new one during chemistry. She has this really scary way of being really angry and really quiet at the same time. It’s freaky.” Cam made a show of shivering violently. “But yeah she chewed me out during lab because of what I did during class, so....I just wanted to say I’m sorry if I freaked you out. I promise I won’t tell anybody. It was just kinda crazy to hear that our favorite teacher is like us, you know?”

Virgil forced up a smile. “We are human, as crazy as it sounds.”

“So....is it you? Wait, I probably shouldn’t ask that, so there’s no evidence or whatever....I’m just gonna assume. Scientific method.”

“Apology accepted. Go back to chemistry before he sends someone after you.”

“He won’t, but I’ll do it just for you, Mr. A. See you tomorrow!”

“Bye, buddy.” Virgil calls as the kid disappears. He pulls out his phone and sends Roman a quick message.

[Virge]: Blabbermouth just came and apologized. Promised not to blabber. I don’t know if I trust it, but I guess it helps.

[Ro]: wow

Nice

It’ll be okay

And if it’s not I’ve got your back, okay? Don’t stress.

[Virge]: Thank you, Roman.

Virgil sighed for the last time and put his cellphone away. He picked up his favorite dark purple grading pen and pulled out the American Lit. kids’ written responses, gearing himself up to grade by playing his Grading Playlist from Spotify on his personal laptop.

Everything will be okay.

Again, sorry if it’s not as crazy as you wanted or is really too neat, but a lot of students I interact with as was around as a student were chill, so. Yeah.

[fluffy-marshmallow-heart]

Drake's Diary ch.20 -The Games of Men

The Royal Romance from Drake's POV

Drake x MC (Emma Rose)

Words: 4983

Emma crashes Liam's bachelor party, and after tensions run high, heads out to play 'Never Have I Ever'

The day after finding Savannah, Maxwell takes Drake to the boutique. “Maxwell, I don’t need a suit.”

“It’s Liam’s bachelor party!! Of course you need a suit!”

“I already have a suit.”

“Yeah, an old suit. We need to get you a new one.” Maxwell starts sorting through the racks and pulling things out for Drake to try on.

Drake rolled his eyes. He could tell Maxwell is trying to butter him up, but Drake is still pretty angry. Hiding his own sister from him. Drake’s not sure he’ll ever be able to forgive him for that. Finally, he ends up in a blue suit, with a green shirt. Ordinarily, those colors would clash, but even Drake had to admit he looked pretty good. And he knew Emma liked him in a suit, so he figures at least there’s that. 

“Come on, let’s go! Let’s show you off!” Maxwell exclaimed, pulling Drake to Emma’ s car. He knocks fervently until she finally opens the door.

“Emma! There you are!”

“Good morning to you too.”

“Oh trust me, it’s a very good one.” He shoves Drake forward. “Ta-daaa! Look upon my masterpiece!”

  Drake watched in amusement as Emma rakes her eyes up and down his body. I love when she checks me out. Makes everything worth it.

Emma smiled. “Drake, you look good.”

Maxwell clapped him on the shoulder. “Pretty great, huh? Drake, I told you the compliments would be rolling in!”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the suit.” He mumbled, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.

“Only the best for my good buddy, Drake. We’re still buddies, right?”

Drake narrowed his eyes. “Don’t push it.”

“So, is that the plan for tonight? Dazzle and distract everyone with Drake’s new suit?” Emma broke in, sensing the tension.

Drake turned his attention to her. “Ha ha. Actually, Maxwell will create a distraction for us while we confront Bastien.”

“Easy. Distraction is my middle name.”

“Sound good?” Drake asked her.

“Well…actually, I’m wondering why Liam is having a second bachelor party. He already had one in New York.”

“Liam wanted to give me and Maxwell the chance to plan something before the press got wind of all this.”

Maxwell nodded. “Yeah, now we’re in the spotlight, so there’ll be the full security detail and all the men of the royal court and everything. So. Are we ready to go?”

Oh no. I am not the only fancy one going. “Wait a second. If I’ve got to get dressed up, shouldn’t Rose have to put on something frilly or sparkly?”

She rose an eyebrow at him. “I was about to, before you two showed up.”

“Then we’re just in time to get you ready to paaaaarty!”

The guys walk her to the train’s boutique. Maxwell starts looking through racks of clothes again while Drake waits in the doorway, a bit uncomfortable. He dresses me, he dresses Rose…she better not change in front of him or I swear to god…

“Any fashion advice?” Her voice interrupted his thoughts.

“The bachelor party’s gonna be at a classy speakeasy, so…” Maxwell pulls out a sleek, black dress and hands it to her. “Ooh, this is a good one. I think.”

Drake’s jaw dropped at the sight of it. I cannot be around her wearing that. That is…that’s too much for me to handle.  “Maxwell, isn’t that a little…uh…revealing?”

“Emma can pull it off!”

Well I know that, but I don’t want her to. Every guy will be checking her out, and I should be the only one doing that.

Providing him some relief, she stepped into the changing room. But a few minutes later she steps out in her new ensemble, which was a little sparkly black dress, with a mesh deep V revealing the center sides of her breasts.

“So…what do you guys think?”

“You look perfect!” Maxwell exclaimed.

Drake gulped. “It’s really…uh…wow…” Fuck. Now all I’m going to think about all night is how much I want to rip it off. Fuck!

“Let’s go, gentlemen!” Emma reached to take both their arms.

Drake bit his lip, trying to contain himself.  “Er. Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

“Wooooo!” She cheered

At least she’s excited to show off that dress. Nobody better be checking her out.

A short ride later, the limo pulls up to the entrance gate of a compound. “Okay, here comes the guard inspection. Be cool.” Drake told them.

Maxwell throws his feet up on the minibar. “I never stop being cool.”

Drake rolls down the window and hands his invitation to a member of the king’s guard. The guard eyes Emma suspiciously.

She holds her head high. “I’m a dancer at the speakeasy, and you’re holding up the show! Do you want to explain to the King of Cordonia why the speakeasy was missing its star performer? Let us go through now, and we’ll still make it on time!”

“Yeah! Diva coming through!” Maxwell scolded.

The guard hands back the papers to Drake and clears the limo to enter.

“Smooth work, team.” Maxwell high fived Emma.

“I’m glad that worked.” She agreed.

The limo rolls to a stop, and Maxwell looks at Drake and Emma. “Alright, I’ll head inside first and make a show of being fashionably on time. Nobody will suspect Drake if he’s late.”

Ugh. So glad he gives me credit for everything I do for him.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t lose yourself at the snack table.”

“No worries. I’m a professional.” Maxwell adjusts his tie.

“I’m still worried.”

“Agent Breakdance, breaching the perimeter.” He stealthily steps out of the limo.

Drake sighs. “That guy.”

He looked at Emma, who had a sly look on her face. “Are you thinking of a codename? You could be like a King’s guard agent!”

Drake bit his lip to keep from laughing. “I guess we’ve got some time to kill. What do you think my codename should be?”

“Grumpy.” She said immediately.

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, I want it to be something cool like ‘Danger’ or ‘Thunderstorm’.”

“How about ‘Marshmallow’?”

He stared at her moment, until he realized she was being serious. “Oh, no…Don’t do this to me, Rose.”

“Too late. Your codename is Marshmallow.” She sang

“Fine, if I’m Agent Marshmallow, you’re Agent…”

“Perfect.” She suggested.

“Agent Bossypants.” He corrected.

“That’s Queen Bossypants to you.”

He shook his head in amusement. “I’m ready to go inside. Let’s go inside.”

“You’re on point, Agent marshmallow.”

What did I get myself into? Why did I let her choose my codename? Why did I even go for a codename in the first place?

Emma and Drake enter the speakeasy where a bunch of finely dressed noblemen sit around socializing, eating steaks and drinking. The light odor of cigar floating through the air.

“Wow…” Drake gasped, looking around the room.

“Drake…This must be everything you’ve ever wanted.” Emma laughed.

“Well, not everything, but we’re checking a lot of boxes.”

“Sorry I’m keeping you from this.”

Her voice was quiet now and when he looked back at her, she was looking at him sadly.

He took her elbow and guided her to his side. “Don’t sweat it. It’s usually the company that makes the party, and you’re better company than almost everyone here. But…wouldn’t it help us blend in if we get a couple glasses of whiskey?”

She nodded. “Fair enough.”

Drake grabs a glass for both of them and takes a sip, savoring the sweet and smoky taste. “I think this whiskey is older than I am. And probably costs more than everything I own.”

“What do you think?” He asked, after she took a sip.

“It’s amazing!”

He grinned. “Enjoy it. Whiskey like this comes along once in a lifetime.”

How did I get so lucky to meet a woman who likes whiskey like this?

Across the room, Maxwell is chowing down a steak with another noble. “Mmmmm! Man, this steak is so good.”

“There he is. I’ll go remind Agent Breakdance that he has a job to do.” Emma ducks into a shadowy corner and Drake strides across the room to grab Maxwell.

“Maxwell.”

Maxwell looks up at him in shock. “Drake! Oh!”

“Yeah. Oh. Did you forget you have job to do?” Drake huffed.

“No, no! Let’s do this! I just needed a bite, that’s all. It just smelled so good!”

Drake turns towards Emma and frowns when he sees her surrounded by men. Rashad, Neville, and Liam were all flanked at her side.

I knew that would happen if she wore that dress. He waves her over, sees her telling the men goodnight…then sighs in frustration as now Liam has leaned into her and whispers something.

God, Liam, give it a rest already. Can’t you see…

Drake immediately felt terrible about what he was about to start thinking. She originally came here for Liam, after all, and it was no secret that Liam is smitten with her. But then again, so am I. And I’m single.

Emma makes her way to Drake as Maxwell hurries to the center of the room with his drink. He clears his throat.

“Ladies and gentlemen…Except that there are no ladies here. Nope. None at all.” The other men turn their attention to Maxwell. “I would like to propose a toast to our wonderful King.”

“That’s kind of you, Lord Maxwell.” Liam says, ever the picture of poise.

“I am nothing if not kind, except dashingly handsome.”

Emma and Drake quietly move along the back wall while Maxwell continues his speech.

“Let’s all take the time out of our celebrations to honor those who made these exquisite festivities possible, starting with the janitorial staff…”

“So far, so good.” Drake murmurs.

“I’d also like to thank my tailor for creating the most comfortable pair of underwear, which I am giving you this speech in.”

“That’s…an interesting way to toast.” Emma’s eyebrows were raised.

“He’s giving it his all.” Drake told her

“And lastly, let us enjoy our manly things…in harmony…or fisticuffs. To steak and whiskey!”

As everyone toasts, Bastien pulls Emma and Drake aside.

“Drake, I see you’ve brought a security breach with you. I know you two are close, but I’m afraid Lady Emma will have to leave.”

“We need to talk to you.” Emma said sternly

Bastien shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s leave, or I’ll escort you out. Talking isn’t an option.”

“We mean talk.” Drake responded, getting angry. He better not brush us off.

Bastien levels him with his gaze. “Drake, I’ll escort you out too, if I have to.”

“Bastien…We know it was you.” Emma continued

“Yes, you know it was me who removed you from the party. Now, come along.” Bastien went to grab them, but Drake shook free from his grasp.

“We know you were the one who paid Penelope to sabotage Emma. I bet you were behind Olivia leaving court too.”

Bastien hesitates for a second. “This isn’t the time or the place for games.”

“Penelope confessed. There’s no reason to play dumb.” How dare he try to act like he knows nothing?

“I’m a servant of the crown. Why would I care who Liam chooses?” Bastien asked.

“That’s what we want to know.” Emma glared.

Drake nodded. “I keep asking myself why you’d do something like this, and it doesn’t make any sense, unless…Someone else must’ve had a hand in it. I want to know who.”

Bastien sighed. “Drake, you don’t want to do this.”

“Please help us out here. I know…I know you’re a good guy. You wouldn’t…”

“Dammit, Drake! I can’t!”

“Bastien, answer us!” Emma pleaded.

He gently takes her by the arm. “I’m sorry, Lady Emma. I truly am, but it’s time to go.”

Don’t fucking touch her. Drake grabs Bastien’s arm. “Fine. We’ll leave. But take your hands off her.”

Bastien lets her go. “Drake…I’m sorry…I didn’t want…This wasn’t personal, I swear.”

Drake narrows his eyes. “It feels pretty damn personal from where I’m standing.”

Before they can leave, they hear an indignant voice from behind. “I step out for ten minutes and come back to chaos. What is the meaning of this prolonged disturbance? …Lady Emma?”

Drake froze, then slowly turned to face him. “You.” Drake storms up to Bertrand. “I found my sister.”

“Lady Savannah?” Bertrand clears his throat. “That’s splendid news. She is well, yes?”

“Like you’d care.” Drake growled.

“We all do. Her disappearance was quite a mystery.”

“She told me everything that happened between you two.”

“I…”

Drake’s hands were balling into fists. All this time. All this fucking time she was missing, and it’s this asshole’s fault!  “She was in love with you! How could you let her leave with her heart broken?”

“I tried to reach her, but she disappeared from everyone, including me” Bertrand explained.

“Not everyone. Maxwell knew.”

“He…what?” Bertrand rounds on Maxwell, catching him in the process of slinking off toward an empty booth.

“I…uhh”

“Maxwell Percival Beaumont. Tell me this man is lying.”

“Er…well…”

Drake scoffed. “Maxwell actually had the heart to support her, which is more than you ever did.”

“The envelope of cash you gave me…the address.” Bertrand mused, clearly surprised.

“So that’s where that missing envelope went.” Maxwell snapped his fingers, then froze as everyone stared at him.

Drake turned back to Bertrand. “Now you know where that extra money was going.”

Bertrand gasped. “I didn’t know she was in distress…what happened?”

“I don’t know, maybe she needed help raising your kid!” Drake was fuming. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this. But the damn broke, and all his emotions since his sister disappeared were now flooding out.

Bertrand gaped at him. “A…A child…? When did…? Savannah…was she pregnant? I didn’t know. You have to believe me. I didn’t know.”

“Savannah told me you gave a nice long speech about how you two could never be together.”

“You don’t understand…The last time I saw her…What I said…she misunderstood.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit!” He grabs Bertrand by the collar.

“Unhand me.” He said angrily.

“You broke my sister’s heart! You nobles this you can just play with us commoners and throw us away when you’re done. Well, this time, you’re going to have to answer for it!” Drake’s hand clenches in white knuckled fury. He cocks his fist.

“Stop!” Maxwell jumps in front of Bertrand.

“Out of the way!” Drake roared.

“Guys…Is this what Savannah would want? All of you fighting each other?”

Drake paused, looking at Emma, who was watching them with concern written all over her face. He lowered his fist. What am I doing?

“No…” Maxwell managed to answer sadly.

Bastien steps in between Drake and Maxwell. “That’s enough. All of you out.”

“Thank you, Bastien. It’s about time you restored order here.” Bertrand straightened out his collar.

“Including you.”

“What? I’ve done nothing wrong.”

Bastien glared at him. “This incident has already caused enough of a disturbance. Do you really need to embarrass yourselves further in front of half the court?”

“I…No. Come, Maxwell. We’re leaving.”

Maxwell glanced at Emma and Drake apologetically. “I’ll, uh, catch up with you guys later.” He walked with Bertrand out the door.

“Come on, let’s go.” Drake and Emma leave the speakeasy and return to the limo, where he falls back in his seat. That was awful. She must hate me now.  “Damn, Rose, I’m sorry…I was such an idiot.”

“Drake, I’ve never seen you so worked up.”

“I don’t know what happened. I need to get myself under control.” His shoulders rise and fall with a quiet sigh before he turns to face her. “First the Beaumont’s, now Bastien…Can we trust anyone here? I need to get away…away from this two-face world and all its damned lies.”

Away from everything and everyone. I hate it here.

“Where are you going to go?”

He shrugged. “I saw a dive bar on the way over that should have plenty of drinks and zero nobles.”

“Count me in. A dive bar sounds like the perfect cure for all this drama.”

He looked at her in surprise. “Really?” She…wants to come? Even after seeing me so angry? His expression brightens slightly. “Then let’s get out of here.”

A little later, Drake and Emma walk into a dive bar. “Now this is more like it.” He told her, looking around.

“I didn’t expect an American theme in Paris.”

“Hey, I’ll take it. First round’s on me.”

Emma smirked. “You mean you didn’t pick this place just for the ambiance?”

“Hah” He walks over to the bartender and gestures at a bottle of whiskey on a shelf. In a few moments, he returns with two tumblers and a bottle in hand. “Here you go.”

She smiled. “Easier than ordering pasta in Italian?”

“Hey, drinks are an even more universal language than food. Just point at what you want, and they’ll pour it.”

Emma took the drink from him and looked around herself. “How on earth did you spot this place? I didn’t even see it when we drove to the speakeasy.”

“It’s a gift. Drop me in any country and I can find you a dive bar.” He told her.

“Did you learn that on more solo expeditions while Liam was stuck in fancy parties?”

He shrugged. “I’ve gotten used to being on my own.”

She looked at him intently. “I wish I could’ve been there to keep you company.”

The corners of Drake’s mouth turned up. “You know what? Me too.” That would have been amazing, knowing you my whole life.

“Well, I’m here now, and you’re going to have a hard time getting rid of me.”

“Get rid of you, Rose? Never.” He stares at her a moment, then looks away. And I mean never.

“So…should we talk about what happened back there? I’m sorry we never really got a chance to talk about everything after we left Savannah’s place. Judging from what happened with Bertrand, I guess you’ve been thinking about it.”

Drake nodded. “Believe me, I wish I could stop thinking about it. I’ve worried about Savannah every single day since she ran away. I never stopped looking for her. I don’t know what’s worse. The fact that Maxwell knew where she was and didn’t tell me, or the fact that my own sister didn’t want me to find her.”

“Hey…he was just trying to respect Savannah’s wishes. I know it sucks, but it’s what she asked him to do. He was trying to protect her. Isn’t that what you would’ve done in his shoes?” She asked lightly.

Drake ran his hand through his hair. “Maybe you’re right. I just hate the fact that she thought she needed protecting from me. I know I’m not always the easiest person to get along with…”

“True.”

“…But I like to think I could be been there for her in some way. After tonight, I’m starting to feel like I can’t trust anyone.”

She looked at him sympathetically. “Oh, Drake. I know Bastien was like family to you.”

“Yeah. It wasn’t just that he was around for us when we were kids. When my father died…Bastien was the one who looked out for us. He drove us to the funeral. Told us old stories about dad.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Me too, Rose. Me too. I learned a long time ago that I couldn’t trust any nobles, but at least we had Bastien looking out for us from the inside. And now…I thought I knew him. Now he’s involved in the plot against you, Maxwell helped hide Savannah from me, and Bertrand’s a father.”

Everything I knew was turned upside down.

“Drake…I know this is hard, but I’m here for you. You can count on that. No matter what else happens.”

He met her gaze. “You promise, Rose?”

“I promise. Why do you think I’m here?” She asked softly.

So wonderful. You are so wonderful. And literally the only person I trust.  “You…you mean a lot to me, Rose. I’m glad you’re still on my side, at least.”

She shrugged. “Someone has to be. Besides, I wasn’t going to let you spend tonight moping by yourself. I officially declare all courtly drama off limits until tomorrow. This is a dive bar, and we’re not gonna let it go to waste.”

“Does that mean…more drinks?” He asked, hopefully.

“Very much so. And it means it’s time for…A drinking game!”

“Oh boy.” Shoulda known.

“You don’t even know what the game is yet!” She laughed.

“I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”

“This one’s called ‘Never Have I Ever. You say something you’ve never done, and if the other person has done it…”

“They take a drink?” He guessed.

“See? You’re a natural. Whoever’s had the least drinks after three rounds wins.”

“I don’t know about this. You sure you want to go up against me in a drinking game?”

She looked at him slyly. “Drake…that sounds like a challenge. And I accept!”

What? But I… “It wasn’t…No, nevermind. You’re on, Rose. Alright, it’s your game, so you get to start.” He refills both their glasses and looks at her expectantly.

“I guess I better make this first question count. Never have I ever…Been a prince’s handsome best friend.”

She doesn’t seriously think that’s all I am after everything we’ve been through. I’m so…offended.

“Hey! There’s more to me than just being Liam’s best friend.”

“So you admit that you’re handsome?”

His jaw dropped. “You…I…I don’t even know how to respond to that.”

“By being flattered. And taking a drink.”

Sighing, Drake takes a drink from his tumbler of whiskey. Yup, walked right into that one.  “Never have I ever…been set up with someone.”

“Really? You haven’t?”

“Not even once.”

“I guess Maxwell and Liam aren’t the kind of friends who go around setting you up, huh?”

He shook his head. “They’ve usually got their own things going on. Drink up.”

She drinks, not breaking eye contact.

“One to one. That’s more like it.” He tells her.

“Not for long. Never have I ever…Imagined someone in this room naked!”

What???

He practically has to pick his jaw up off the floor, then takes a log drink of his whiskey. “You never go easy on me, do you, Rose?”

“Never.” She grinned.

He chuckled. “Don’t look so smug. How do you know that this has anything to do with you? Maybe I’m thinking of the bartender.”

They both look over at the burly, tattooed man behind the bar.

“I guess I’ll never really know.” She told him.

“Exactly. Ahem. Now it’s my turn. Never have I ever…Taken advantage of a barn raising to stare at someone with their shirt off.”

“Hey!”

“Am I wrong?” He asked innocently. Two can play this game.

“You know, you could’ve kept your shirt on that day.”

“Maybe I wanted you to look.” He challenged.

She tries and fails to hide a smile behind a sip of whiskey, and Drake leans back in his chair. I won.

“Don’t get too comfortable. We’ve still got one more round!” She exclaimed.

“You’re on.” Feeling more confident, he refills both glasses of whiskey. “Alright, Rose. Let’s see what you got.”

“Never have I ever…” A mischievous look crossed her face and Drake grimaced. I know that look. I don’t even want to know what’s coming.

“…had a scandalous dream about the two of us in bed together.” She finished.

He felt his face flush. “You really play for keeps, Rose. I’m kind of impressed.” Be cool, be cool.

“A rare compliment from Drake Walker. And the answer?”

He locks eyes with her and takes a drink of his whiskey. Dreams, plural.

“I knew it.” She gloated.

“Don’t get too cocky. I’ve still got one chance left. But before I take it…” He trailed off a moment, deciding if he really wanted to go there. Well why not. We’re drinking anyway, I can blame the booze.

“Yes?” She asked curiously.

“I thought the rules of this game were to say things you’ve never actually done, in hopes the other has.”

“Yes that’s right. I’m glad this far into the game you finally know the rules, Drake.” She joked.

“So then, am I the only one that should be drinking right now?” He asked, watching her carefully.

A surprised look crossed her face. “Uh…”

“I mean, a rule’s a rule, Rose. So what’s your answer?” He challenged, holding his breath.

She bit her lip, causing his gaze to follow, before bringing her glass to her lips and taking a drink, running her tongue over her bottom lip for any drop of whiskey remaining.

I bet that tongue would feel amazing on my…

“Final shot.”

He cleared his throat. I gotta get this conversation on something else. Now. He wracked is brain trying to think of something non-sexual. “Never have I ever…Eaten a deep-dish pizza.”

“Nice try, but that makes two of us.” She told him.

“What? You’ve gotta be honest with me, Rose.”

“I am! You’re talking to a New Yorker, remember? Deep-dish is a Chicago thing.” She laughed.

He sighed. “Let me guess. There are no do-overs in this game.”

“Nope. You have to live with your mistakes.”

“Alright, that brings the score to…three points to two. Looks like you won this one, Rose.”

She tilted her head to the side. “That’s it? You aren’t going to give me a hard time?”

He shook his head. “Not right now, anyways. You were right. This was way less terrible than thinking about everything back at court.”

“So what did I win?” She asked triumphantly.

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Win? I didn’t know we were playing for stakes.”

“House rules. You owe me something. The stakes are…a kiss.”

She didn’t even think about it…which means she already knew what she wanted.

“Rose…Are you sure about this?” Because there officially will be no going back after this one.

“Oh, well…I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want. But after tonight and everything that’s happened, I…”

Good enough for me.

He pulls her close to him, his lips finding hers in a longing kiss. When they finally part, both of them are a little breathless.

“You don’t make this easy.” He murmured.

“I dunno, it felt pretty easy to me…” She returned.

He let out a soft chuckle. “Very funny. I mean, trying to control how I feel about you. I can’t.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“I don’t know.” He reaches out to brush a strand of hair out of her face, then catches himself. He pulls his hand back. “I’d be lying if I said I regretted it, though.”

“So would I.”

They sat for a minute just looking at each other, before the bartender swings by their table to pick up the glasses. Looking around, Drake realizes that they’re the last two patrons left in the bar.

“He probably wants to close up.” She told him.

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. We should get going.” She moves to stand up, but Drake holds up a hand. “I just wanted to say…thanks. For coming with me. I’m glad I didn’t end up drinking alone tonight.”

She gave him a strange look. “Drake…you have to know that I care about you. I could never leave you to deal with all of this alone. You’re important to me.”

His heart soared. “I won’t pretend to understand why. But I’m glad.” His gaze lingers on her face until, after a few moments. He forces himself to look away. “We should get going, or we’ll both be asleep on our feet tomorrow.”

“You’re probably right.” She agreed.

She and Drake stroll out of the bar while holding hands, and slowly make their way toward their train cars.

Laying in bed that night, Drake replays their evening over and over in his head. There’s definitely no going back to ‘just friends’ now. He let his feelings…ugh, since when do I have feelings…get too deep for her. He wanted to say he hated himself for it, he hated her for making him feel this way, that he would stop immediately…but he can’t. Something that feels this good…it can’t be wrong…right? The way she loses herself in my kisses…how can that possibly be wrong? We just fit together so perfectly. We make sense. She gets me. It can’t be wrong.

Eventually his thoughts turned back to Bastien. He said it wasn’t personal, that he was sorry, he’s a servant of the crown and he didn’t want to…wait. A servant of the crown.

Drake’s heart beat furiously as he came to the realization of what those statements meant. Liam wasn’t the crown at that time. That means…this goes a lot further than they thought it did.

The following morning, Drake knocks on Emma’s door.

“Drake?” She answered.

“Rose, I had a realization. There’s a very short list of people that Bastien would feel compelled to obey, no matter what the order.

“What are you suggesting?” She asked slowly.

He hesitates a moment before continuing. “This runs all the way to the top. We need to investigate the former King and Queen.”

She gapes at him. “But…they’re still powerful royalty. How do we question them?”

“I checked the itinerary. You’re due for a tea party with Queen Mother Regina tomorrow. That’s as good a place as any.”

She looked at him nervously now. “What if it is her? Then what do we do? She’s still a powerful woman. How can I stand a chance against her?”

She looked so defeated, Drake stepped forward and wrapped her in his arms. “You’ll have me…I’m always here for you, and more importantly, Liam. We’ll figure something out. He’s the king now. You just have to be careful Emma. If the former king and queen are involved…then you’re in more danger than ever.”

She buried her face in his chest. “Okay. We’ll do this together.”

“Together.” He murmured.

  @flowerpowell @agent-bossypants @annekebbphotography @gardeningourmet @zigortega4life @eileendannie @dancetothestoriesinyoursoul @thequeenofcronuts @carabeth @alesana45

@hrhdes @drakewalkerisreal @akrenich @feartheendlesssummer @moonlightgem7 @i-miss-trr @noey718-blog @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction @i-miss-trr​​ @crookedslimecreatorpasta @notoriouscs

[resetmypatientviolence]

Their First Christmas (Drake x MC) [Part 1 of 2]

Pairing: Drake x Jaela

Word Count: 2,950

Rating: PG

Warnings: Language

Song Accompaniment: So This Is Christmas-- John Lennon

Description: In this two-part fic, Drake’s upset he has to miss most of their first December as a married couple due to a work trip. He loves the Christmas season. Jaela, meanwhile... doesn’t really care. That is, until she married Drake Walker.  

Author Note: Happy Holidays all! Enjoy some fluff, and enjoy happy Drake and Jaela! Thank you so much for reading! Part two should go up tomorrow-- I think you might have an idea of what comes next....

Jaela hasn't stopped pacing since Drake texted her, announcing his arrival after a three-week trip. Her stomach flips. He'll be home soon. Too soon-- or not soon enough? Jaela doesn't know, smoothing down her hair, a complete nervous wreck for the first time in their marriage, still fresh, shiny, and new.

How will he react? Angry? Happy? Sad? Confused? She kept everything under wraps, making sure that no Skype call revealed anything. Oh god—what if she messed up everything and did things wrong and—“Stop thinking, Jae!” She snaps to herself, moving her hands from hair to her sides, smoothing down the fabric of her dress, not a wrinkle in sight. She keeps her eyes downcast in the foyer, silently counting her steps when the heel clicks on the floor. “He’ll love it, he’ll love it… I’m not an idiot…”

It’s a minimal comfort, one violently ripped from her when the doorknob turns. Breathless, Jaela snaps her head up, lips tight, as the door opens to reveal her husband. The moment of truth. Now or never.

*

Drake's packing for his trip with Liam-- a too long, three-week trip to Asia, working on trade negotiations and strengthening Cordonia's alliances with countries there. He leaves in the morning, his other suitcase all ready to go. Jaela sits on the bed, playfully pouting and batting her lashes at him as she folds his socks and endless supply of white t-shirts while Drake organizes his suitcase for casual clothes.

“… but this is your first big trip and we’ve only been married a few months,” Jaela huffs, setting a pair of socks down. She wondered why he was sulking at dinner one night—and it wasn’t until she pestered him enough, even asking during sex, that he told her he’d be leaving in two weeks for three weeks. Jaela swears they just got back from their honeymoon, weeks passing by in a blink of an eye. Much like their whirlwind of a wedding and saving Cordonia.

Drake pauses and sighs, looking up. He smiles at her expression, Jaela returning one back. He reaches out, stroking her cheek, thumb running over her cheekbone, eyes softening. "I know. I’d stay here all day with you, if I could. But I guess I need to learn this diplomacy thing somehow.” Jaela’s smile falls—she’ll always be a bit guilty at that, forcing Drake into this noble life. But… he said he’ll learn. “You know I’ll miss you like crazy.”

"Duh," Jaela says, leaning into his touch, hand fully cupping her cheek now. “You know I’ll miss you like crazy. This big duchy all to myself, no husband to keep me entertained… no new locations to defile for weeks on end…”

Drake chuckles, tapping her nose, resuming his suitcase organization. Jaela goes back to the socks, still smiling. “It’ll suck, missing you. That’ll be the worst for me,” she says quietly. Clouds gather outside, fitting of the mood to come. “We haven’t been apart for that long since… since I came back to Cordonia, for the Engagement tour.” She slows, lips twitching. Him in a coma didn’t count, because she was there. Or after… well, that didn’t count either.

Drake stops again, tilting his head in thought. Jaela pauses, sock in hand, waiting for him to speak. She’s still figuring out his tells, but this one is obvious. “Missing you will be the worst. But I guess… the timing of it sucks. I’m missing most of December. I was… hoping to spend the month with you.”

Jaela cocks an eyebrow, scooting to the edge of the bed, swinging her legs off the edge. “You can spend any month of forever with me,” she says, taking his hand. Drake moves, standing in front of her—showing off his puppy dog eyes-- pushing her hair back with the other, kissing her forehead after. Jaela continues. “What’s so special about December, anyways?”

Drake frowns, eyebrow furrowed, the corner of his lip twitching. He confused, she notes. “What’s so…” Then the confusion lifts, his eyebrows lifting. He squeezes her hand. “Oh. You don’t… you don’t celebrate it. You didn’t grow up doing anything and… ah, nevermind.” He flushes and turns from her, running a hand through his hair. “I forgot… sorry.”

“Oh, you…” Jaela stands, heat in her face, too. They had a hell of a year. And there’s still so much to learn. “You wanted to do Christmas things with me this month.” She’s never celebrated Christmas. Aside from the activities she did in school or the one time she was with a foster family over Christmas. She didn’t get as many gifts as their kids did, but the gesture was nice.

“Er… yeah, if you… it’s a stupid idea. I should have known you don’t like it or…”

“Hey, hey, hey…” He upset, beating himself up over it, she knows. Quickly, Jaela stands and wraps her arms around his waist, cheek on his back. “Just because I used to practice Islam and now don’t believe in anything doesn’t mean I’m anti-Christmas. I know we’ve never talked about family traditions and stuff…”

He sets his hands over hers and squeezes them. “There’s a lot we haven’t learned…”

“I know. But we will, in time. Can you tell me why you’ll miss it so much? I mean, you’ll be back before Christmas. We can get a tree when you’re back and presents and stuff.”

Drake sighs and turns, holding her hands in his. “It’s not… not just about that. And what? We have the tree up for a week and then it’s down? It’s about the season. Enjoying the lights, the sights, the feelings…. It’s my favorite and I… I knew you really don’t celebrate it but… I wanted to experience all these things with you, to have you do things maybe for the first time, make our own traditions and just…” He sighs. “It’s silly, but I wanted to really see this place all done up for a bit. Now… what’s the point if I’m gone? You get that, right?”

She doesn't. Of course she’s done Christmas activities with friends and knows how the world shifts—and she lived in New York from eighteen to twenty-four. It’s hard to avoid Christmas.

But she sees why he’s upset, sad he’s missing out on this with her, wanting to hold her hand and show her all he loves about the season and—wait, she has it. Her eyes flit across his face, a sad one, just wanting to see her react to new, holiday things with him. It’s pure. And she… she can manage Christmas cheer for him. An idea is brewing, but she contains a smile, kissing him tenderly instead, squeezing his hands. "I think I do. But... work is work and I'll be here, waiting for you, when you get back. We’ll get the biggest tree and enjoy it and cram all of the Christmas things we can. Maybe there’ll be snow when you get back, too.”

Drake chuckles. "Well… it’ll be something. There’s always next year, too. We can go all out then.”

Jaela nods. “Plus, I’ll give you some festive Skype shows…” Her stomach drops in want when Drake’s pupils grow, and he grips her ass, pulling her close.

“Mm… that might make up for a few things I’ll miss with you…”

“Mmhmm… I know you like red on me….”

“Like it better when it’s off…”

And packing for Drake’s trip is the last thing they think of for the next two hours.

*

“Put the third tree uh… shit.”

There’s already two. One in the throne room, giant, and the other in their private living room, one for themselves and their friends, where they feel like they can be normal, if for a little. She didn’t expect to get three trees… but she didn’t want to stop with one. Another one had to be placed where Drake would be the most, when he gets back. And the third…

“The master bedroom?” Jaela says, then nods to the staff carrying it. “Yes, the master bedroom.” They’ll spend a lot of time in there… and she thinks he’ll like it. Well, she hopes. Why wouldn’t he? This is his favorite holiday, apparently. Soft as marshmallow.

She glances down at her checklist of everything to make Valtoria festive as possible for Drake’s return. It’s not that she doesn’t know what’s needed for Christmas—she’s no idiot. It’s a barrage of Santa’s and Christmas trees and decorations the moment it’s November 1st, and she’s lived with that her whole life.

It’s not that she often went over to friends’ homes who weren’t a part of her community as a child, but when she did, there were the decorations and carefully wrapped presents. If she was in a foster home in November or January, sometimes there were the beginnings or endings of the holiday season. She enjoyed peppermint everything. She’s posed and skated at Rockerfeller center and knows most of the words to Christmas Carols. A former boyfriend and her binged the Home Alone triology in his dorm. It’s the holiday season—though, as much as they say holiday, it’s Christmas everything—and Jaela knows all the fixings and movies and songs that make it festive.

But she’s never been for it.

The smiles, the cheer—it’s all temporary, false. All in the name of Baby Jesus and Santa Claus—make believe bullshit. Even when she mused with the idea that there was an all-knowing being watching over her (if there was a God out there, why’d they make the first 18 years of her life utter hell?), she knew the season was stupid.

For a baby being born in a barn, everything was so extra. People donating once a year from the goodness of their hearts and then forgetting everything the moment it’s the 26th, as if they did their one good deed for the year and that secured their place in their fictional heaven. Call her a Grinch, but Jaela found it pointless.

She quite liked her “Christmas” traditions when she moved to New York. Usually friends took pity and would invite her to Christmas Eve and that was nice to meet new people. Jaela got them a gift and would bring wine or a sparkling something when she was underage. Sometimes her friends would gather at some point and do their own friend one, a Christmas party which was an excuse to get plastered.

Christmas day, however? The roommate/s would be gone all day and it was just her. If she wasn’t working at night, she’d put on her favorite trash TV, order take-out, and have a fine night, the little 3ft tree bought by her roommate lighting up the room. It was bliss. And the tips she got on Christmas Eve and Day were enough of a gift for her and she enjoyed it. Dumplings and tips were all she needed.

Silently, perhaps, she thanked the fictional baby in the manager for giving her enough money to splurge on something once a year, but otherwise? She doesn’t care for it. It’s just December. It’s another month of the year. At least, it was that until she married Drake, secretly soft for Christmas cheer. She’ll draw the line at Easter, but she can do something for her new husband. Is that what Christmas is about? She can ask him when he’s back.

Needless to say, from decorating the duchy from head to toe, drafting three versions of her “Operation: Surprise Drake with Christmas Cheer” checklist started the day after he left, Jaela handpicking and approving every decoration, the staff working on overdrive all month to prep the duchy for this moment—Jaela’s spent.

But she keeps her head high, wandering the duchy as Christmas music blares throughout, the staff setting up everything, Jaela helping here and there, Drake home in a few hours. She smiles in the throne room, bodies bustling around her, the checklist complete, all but for one thing: Drake Comes Homes.

Under Jaela’s guidance and rules for decorating, (only the real stuff, no silver because it looks tacky, no religious ornaments or managers, Drake doesn’t even go to Church, Santa’s fine to have, make sure we get trees that won’t light on fire, and not one room goes with at least one decoration, for example), Valtoria is transformed.

Before, regal and crisp with a casual warmth, and now… “I think we’re done, Jaela,” bows Gladys and Jaela exhales, smiling.

“I… I think you all are. Please, head home. I’ll do a walk through and can fix anything if needed. Thank you….” She pauses, realizing she’s missing something. “And… Merry Christmas. Happy holidays, if you don’t…”

Gladys laughs lightly. “Happy holidays to you too, Jaela. I know Drake will love this. I’ve never seen Valtoria this beautiful during Christmas. You’re truly worthy of this duchy.” With a quick bow, Gladys leaves and Jaela turns, beginning her walkthrough of her creation—heart hammering, nervous for Drake to see it.

For him to see the winter wonderland she worked so hard to envision, to make sure that he was wrapped in Christmas spirit the moment he walks in the door. Fresh garland wrapped around each bannister, garland around archways and on tables, weaving through pictures, adding an air of coziness and comfort to every room it was found.

Lights—oh the lights—some wound with the garland, others hanging from the walls, some twinkling and making the duchy glow with the warmth of a fireplace, lights like little stars lighting up the high ceilings—just like when they stargazed together (that is, until she looked at him with wonder as the gruff man began to open up, truly, for the first time). The lights are every where and she turns off the main lights as she passes through the rooms, warmth filling her as the soft glow trails behind her.

Decorations, trinkets, bobbles—anything that she found cute, classy, or fitting of its place in Valtoria rests on flat surfaces in every room—and yes, she wanted every room. Some are funny things, such as Santa, and others are simple, and classy. Beads, table clothes switched out for white or gold, penguins, winter scenes on display.

And the smells, oh lord. Jaela’s delighted at how much her baking paid off and how pine mingles with the sugar, tantalizing her senses. Truly, it smells of the season in every room, candles filling in if they’re far enough from the kitchen.

A train set runs around the largest of trees, the one in the throne room, presents that will be donated to local shelters around it. The biggest of trees shines bright, lights wound and ornaments carefully placed, the star big and bold, showy—but Drake will love it. Hopefully. Why is she nervous? He shouldn’t hate anything… but….

The second tree is smaller but still grand, this one decorated solely by her. Maybe the lights aren’t as well placed and she could have found better spots for the ornaments of all colors and shapes, but she loves it, fireplace roaring and the living smelling of cinnamon (much like the kitchen for the past two days, Jaela staying up late to bake as many treats she could think of).

Finally, past the winter wonderland, Jaela heads upstairs, to their master bedroom. Chance is asleep in his dog bed, the lights of the tree shining on him. Jaela leans on the doorframe, a smile curling up. The tree is bare, aside from the lights, but a box of ornaments, a topper, and a garland rests next to it. Good, they listened to her instructions—she wanted the last one to be done by them, together. In the glow of Christmas lights, Jaela wanders to the box of ornaments and picks up one—a custom one she had made, just for him. For them.

It’s a photo from their wedding, the two caught in a kiss at the aisle, their wedding date written below, followed by, the word, “Inevitable”. She touches his face on the picture. Soon. Soon he’ll be home. It isn’t until a tear rolls down her cheek that she realizes she’s crying, and then laughs. Maybe… maybe she’s getting it. After all, why else would she be compelled to deck out Valtoria into something she’s only seen in movies? Or maybe she misses him too much.

Or maybe this is Christmas, she muses, willing to drop everything to see a smile on somebody’s face under those lights. Or maybe she’s just a lovesick puppy for her new husband. Or maybe…

“Tis the fucking season,” she says, setting the ornament down, shaking her head, heading to the closet. He’ll be home… soon. So soon.

And soon, the feeling of warmth is replaced by nervousness, because… it’s time. Now or never. And the door opens, fully revealing the man she missed too much and was willing to offer some holiday cheer for… for the first time in her life.

Drake raises his eyes. He doesn’t speak. He drops his bags, jaw dropped.

Jaela sucks in a breath, his eyes not on her—but behind her. She can’t read this expression.

“Jaela… what… what the hell did you do?”

“I… I gave you Christmas.” She glances up, to the mistletoe. One of five around the duchy. “And I think I’m under a mistletoe. So, I think I’m owed a kiss.”

Lips crashing on to hers are all the answers she needs, melting into his embrace, one she could only dream about between the sugar plum fairies, and that’s when she knows exactly what Christmas feels like: this. Just like this.

Disclaimer: All characters and rights belong to Pixelberry Studios. 

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Drake: @fairydustandsarcasm

[leelee10898]

Always you- The feeling (3/?)

Leo woke early, showered and got himself ready for the day. He had purchased a new street bike upon leaving for Italy, it had been delivered that morning and he couldn't wait to pick her up with it. His heart raced at the thought of her on the back, holding onto him tightly. It was an odd feeling to him, he never really viewed most women as anything more then someone to have a little fun with, but never settle down. With an extra spring in his step he walked to the next door down and knocked. Percy answered already dressed, laptop open at the table in his room.

"Working on vacation are we percy?" Leo grinned. "Some of us actually work Rhys." Percy sat pack down sipping his espresso. Leo flopped down in the seat across from him, not able to contain the shit eating grin spead across his face. Percy looked up, and chuckled "seeing miss Aria again are we?" He had never seen Leo so giddy over a girl, it was quite amusing. "Yes, taking her cliff jumping today, she doesn't know it yet." He broke off a piece of the muffin sitting in front of him. Percy arched his brow "cliff jumping huh?" "Yeah, she wanted an adventure. I'm going to give her an adventure." Percy about spit his espresso out trying to stifle his laugh "This poor girl has no idea how much of an adventure shes actually in for with you." Leo chuckled Standing up and clapsed Percy on the back. "I'll catch you later. Don't work to hard perc."

Leo pulled up to the front of her small hotel, Aria was already standing out front waiting for him. "Where did you get that?" She ran up, eyes wide. Leo grinned, "Just came this morning, I had it sent here. You like it?" He looked at her hopeful. She bit her bottom lip jesus with that lip again his thought screaming at him to take it in between his teeth, pulling ever so gently. "Yeah, its nice. Is that....Is that what we're taking today?" She looked a little nervous. "Yes. Have you ever been on one before?" He questioned . She shook her head no. A gleam of mischief flashed before his eyes.

"Do you trust me?" She looked at him unsure "Come on, hold me tight I'll take care of you." He held the helmet out to her. She hesitated, glancing down at the helmet, and then him. She took the helmet and climbed on the back. Leo kicked the bike to life and off they went. He could feel her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, her head pressed up against his back. A surge of warmth flood his body, it felt right. They flew through the Italian country side, the wind blowing against them, but the view was amazing.

Finally they pull up to a small coastal town, blue water for miles. "You ok?" He asked as she climbed off the bike. "Scared shitless at first but what a rush." She grinned. "Wow, where are we?" Her eyes went wide. "Grotto della poesia." He told her. A bit further up they seen a few people standing at the edge of a cliff and jump off. "Are they... Cliff jumping?" She started to walk forward curiously. "Yep, and that's what were doing too." He walked after. "We're what?" She squeaked. "Yep. You said you wanted adventure. This is an adventure. Now come on." he grabbed her hand taking her over to the grotto.

He led her down the man made steps carved into the side and on to the white sand beach. He took his shirt off, exposing his muscular chest and slipped down to his swim trunks. He watched as Arias eyes swept his body. A light red tinge spead across her cheeks she so damn cute when shes flustered he thought to himself. Aria followed suit revealing her beautiful curvy body in her sexy pilkadot bikini. She was thin, but thick in all the right place. He felt his member twitch in his shorts at the sight. "You ready?" He asked holding out his hand. "No, but something tells me you wont let up, so why not." She took his hand and they walked to the top of the grotto. After a few minutes it was their turn to jump.

"Will you hold my hand while I jump?" She turned to him, her eyes pelading. "Of course. Now on my three we jump." They walked to the ledge "One... two... three!" They lept off the side plummeting down to the blue shimmering water. They crashed into the water, Leo swam back to the surface quickly searching for Aria who popped up a few seconds later. She was laughing as she floated in the crystalclear water, it was like music to his ears. He had no idea what this feeling was, but he knew he wanted to hear more of her laugh. "That was amazing." She Swam over to him wrapping her arms around him. They laughed together for a minute before locking eyes, leo searched for any sign of doubt, when he found none he leaned in. Lips inches from each other before another jumper landed next to them, splashing them spoiling the moment.

They got out of the water, laying on the beach for a while. His eyes trained on her. Her long chestunt hair wet cascading the side if her neck and shoulder. The way the specks of water glistened in the sun against her sun kissed body,She was breathtaking. He had never met anyone like her, sure everyone he had ever been with knew his title. They were either noble, or acquainted with nobility. The commoners he bedded, he never formed any kind of bond with. But Aria, she was different, she was something special. He never told her he was a prince, he also was almost afraid to make a move in fear she would run.

"So, as beautiful as it is here. And as much as I love laying on the beach. I did not eat breakfast and I am starving." She sat up. "Oh. Right, sorry about that. There are some places in town we can grab a bite. Lets get going." They dressed and went back to the bike. A short ride layer they found a small bistro nestled into the small town. Once they walked in the amazing smells smacked them in the face. A little old lady walked up to them and said something in Italian. Leo answered back in perfect Italian and they were taken to a table. A plate of warm breadsticks were placed on the table with a melted butter dish. "So you know Italian?" She ripped a piece of bread off "how many other languages do you know?" "Um many, I am not sure how many there are to be honest."

"Wow, that's impressive. And what is it you do for a living Mr Rhys? That is when you're not jet setting across Europe. " she continued to nibbled on her breadstick. "Well, my family is in um, politics. I am learning the business." He half lied. "Interesting, and what type of politics?" She questioned. She is actually interested in this? "Um governing, foreign policy." He half lied again. He was trying hard to be anyone but crown Prince Leo. He never thought he would be so happy to see the waitress in his life. They ordered and then it was back to questions.

"So Aria, what is it you do?" He wondered. "Me? Well I am a student at Penn state." She answered twirling the pasta on her fork. "Fantastic, what is your major?" He leaned in, genuinely invested in learning more about her. "English, I want to be and elementary school teacher. " she answered. "That is really great, Aria." Leo reached his hand across the table squeezing hers. "I think you will make a wonderful teacher. "

After their meal they hopped back on Leo's bike. she had plans with Ellie that night and she would kill her if she stood her up. He couldn't stop the permanent grin that was plastered on his face as she held onto his waist tight. He had taken many women for a ride on the many bikes he owned, but something about her holding onto him felt different, it felt good, it felt right. As they pulled up in front of the hotel Aria hopped off. "Thank you Leo, for an amazing day." She handed him the helmet. "It was my pleasure." He grinned taking the helmet from her. "Well, I better get ready." She hesitated, Leo wanted to kiss her, after the grotto he restrained himself. She leaned in giving him a hug and turned to walk away. He hadn't made plans to see her again, but he wasn't ready to say good bye "where are you going tonight?" He blurted out, he needed to say something, anything to see her again. A smile formed across her face "Dogana. Bye Leo." She waved as she walked down the alley and dissapeared. Leo kicked his bike to life and took off, he would definitely be going to the club tonight. He just needed to convince Percy to join him.

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