#ltla follow up series

[likethetailofacomet]

The Broken Bits, Chapter Four:

Been Gone Such A Long Time 

A/N: Who is V the bartender????

Word Count: 3,465

Tunes: Missing, The XX 

Vanna bumped the door open with her hip as she hastily tied her long brown hair in a ponytail. The bell above the door jingled, but the noise of Saturday night swallowed the sound of the bell. Someone was very drunkenly singing “Don’t Stop Believing”, a small group of equally drunken fans gathered near the stage to cheer him on. Ugh, that’s right, it’s karaoke night, she thought as she finished her pony tail and hurried toward the bar. She was only ten minutes late, but the backup had already started at the drink station, and she winced at the look Jay shot her from behind the mixing tin he was shaking furiously- far more vigorously than a martini called for, he was bruising the gin on purpose by the look of it. He shook the container in one hand and haphazardly garnished a long island iced tea with the other by plopping a lemon wheel in it, the dark liquid sloshing out over the top of the glass and onto the rubber spill mat below. Vanna slipped past a group of bachelorettes and lifted the trap door to enter the bar area, an apologetic look on her face. “Sorry, Jay, the baby was-“

“Yeah, yeah, it’s all good, V, just get over here and start pouring beers.” Jay rolled his eyes before giving her a wink to prove that his 5 minutes of hating her were up.  He wasn’t really mad at her, it had just been a long night and Kayla, the opening bartender, had all but evaporated as soon as the clock struck ten having been at The Hippo since noon. She was supposed to wait for her relief to get there, but she had a date and Jay’s pleading did nothing to guilt her into staying past her shift time. Vanna smiled at him as she reached into the mug chiller for three cold glasses and began pouring Brooklyn Lagers, expertly tilting the glasses to create the perfect head of foam before sliding them down the bar to Jay at the drink station. The two worked seamlessly with Jay calling out beers and wine for Vanna to pour as they dug out from under the mountain of orders. When the crowd around the drink station had dispersed, the patrons properly plied and ready to make fools out of themselves on stage, Vanna helped Jay get things back in order before the next wave hit.

“So, everything good with the kid?” Jay asked over his shoulder as he replenished the lime wedges from a container he’d pulled from a cooler under the bar.

Vanna laughed and shook her head. “Yeah, he’s fine.” She gestured with the towel in her hand. “Just at that age where everything is a fight, there’s always a tantrum to be thrown, and he seems to have a sixth sense for when I’m leaving. Kid was passed out, asleep and snoring, but as soon as I said goodbye to the babysitter and grabbed my keys he was awake and screaming.”

Jay chuckled. “Yeah, I remember when mine was like that.” He laughed again, using tongs to refill a jar of maraschino cherries. “Fiona used to switch” he snapped his fingers with a loud crack, “like a demon possessed her when I’d have to leave for work. Now?” he blew air through his lips and raised his tong hand. “Now I’m lucky if I get a “later, dad” It’s a phase, V, no worries.”

Vanna leaned against the shelving behind the bar and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well don’t tell me that.” Jay laughed. “Is it too much to ask for something in between tantrums and indifference?”

“Yeah, that doesn’t exist.” Jay finished filling the garnish bin and moved to lean against the shelving next to her. He wiped his hands on his apron before crossing his arms and gently nudging her with his shoulder as the group of bachelorettes took the stage for “Dancing Queen”. “So, uh, you hear from the kid’s dad recently? I know he was here to visit a few months back and then…I uh…I know that whole… attack thing happened and you said you had family there and…I’m rambling now. If you don’t want to answer just tell me to shut up.” He turned his head to smile sheepishly at her.

She felt her chest tighten at the mention of the attack, at the thought of him…at the thought of her family. He’d finally gotten in touch with her a full two days after the attacks, those two days passing like months while she waited to hear about the people she cared about. But it had been a quick, curt conversation that hadn’t made her feel much better at all. She sighed, ran a hand over the top of her head and grabbed the end of her ponytail, tugging and twisting it around her fingers. It was her nervous tic, and Jay noticed. “I…no, I haven’t heard anything since...”

Jay leaned over and gave her a one armed hug. “Sorry I brought it up, V, just…I care, that’s all. We don’t have to talk about it.”

“Thanks, Jay,” she leaned into his hug without uncrossing her arms. She knew that he was just trying to show interest, show support. He didn’t know all the ins and outs of her situation. He didn’t know the history of it…and he didn’t know she had a brother. As the group of cosmopolitan drowned girls on stage wound down their song, another wave of patrons started approaching the bar and their moment of reprieve was over. They resumed their positions at the drink station and in front of the taps, and Vanna was glad that she didn’t have to do much thinking to pour beers; she was at The Hippo, her mind was anywhere but.

She went on auto pilot, muscle memory taking over to pour the perfect 8oz servings of wine, her wrist tilting at the same angle each time, arm pulling upwards at the same point of each pour. This way her mind was free to wander from person to person, starting with Bertrand. He’d been the first man she’d fallen for, wide eyed and oblivious, like a deer caught in a hunter’s sights. He was serious and dignified, he stood for all of the things she admired about the nobility, all of the things she wanted but could never have. He’d promised her nothing, and they’d never talked about what their relationship meant if it meant anything at all. They hadn’t done much talking period, if she was being truthful with herself, spending their time alone with their hands roving under each other’s clothing, their lips leaving hot trails and little marks all over one another’s skin. She’d sighed his name into a kiss more frequently than she’d said it in any other manner; he’d pinned her to a wall, a bookcase, a door, more often then he’d stood before her and had a conversation. There wasn’t love to have been lost. He was the father of her child, and it had hurt that he didn’t want to give it a try, to see if they could be a family, find love where they’d found pleasure. He’d said it had been due to familial duties, and that was when she learned that she’d never be good enough for these people, and she didn’t want her child to live that way. She didn’t tell Bertrand about the baby because she didn’t want his pity, didn’t want him to see his son as a burden. She always planned to tell him someday, but someday when she could rightfully refuse any monetary aid he’d try to shove at her to assuage his guilt. She didn’t love him when she left Cordonia, and she didn’t love him now that he’d found her, now that he knew about Bartie. He’d said he wanted to be part of their lives, that since he’d found them he’d felt that he was missing half of himself. But she felt nothing other than relief that he wanted to be involved in Bartie’s life in a real way, and not just by writing a check. Since the attacks though, she’d heard nothing from him, and again, it hurt that this time he’d lied about wanting to be a part of their lives. Two strikes against him and he’d started off down in the count; That night, as she mechanically poured a glass of house red, she decided that she was done considering Bertrand Beaumont family.

Her thoughts went next to her mother. Before leaving Cordonia it had been almost ten years since she heard from Bianca Walker. She was vaguely aware of Jay calling for a Sam Adams and two Amstel Lights, and she poured them as she recalled the last time she’d spoken to her mother on the phone -on her 17th birthday. She hadn’t given any clue that it would be the last time they spoke, simply wished her daughter a happy birthday, told her she missed her, like always, and that she hoped she was doing well, that she was happy…like always. When Christmas came and went followed by New Year’s Eve without a call or card, she and Drake had started to worry. They’d reached out by phone only to find that Bianca had changed her number. They’d sent a letter that hadn’t been returned as undeliverable, so they knew that she hadn’t moved, knew that nothing had happened to her…she had simply just stopped being involved in their lives. The visits had stopped 2 years prior, the invites, 3, and she remembered the painful jumble of mixed feelings she had; my mother wants nothing to do with me, did I do something wrong? How could she just... she remembered the hot tears boiling in her eyes. She remembered Drake’s reaction when he saw how it was affecting her.

“Hey...Savvy,” he hadn’t used that nickname since they were much younger. Hearing it had made her eyes flick up to his as she exhaled slowly. “Screw her. You got me. Always.” She knew Drake must have been hurting just as much, knew he was probably angry and confused just like she was. But he was putting it all aside to take care of her. That’s what Drake did for the people he loved.

She’d given Bianca one last chance when she came to the states. She’d figured, even if they hadn’t spoken, or seen one another, even if Bianca hadn’t tried or even made it seem like she wanted to try, Savannah thought she’d want to know that she was going to be a grandmother. When she’d showed up at Bianca’s family ranch in Texas, she was struck first by the joyful resonance of the wind chime that hung from the porch. She watched, mesmerized as the thin metal rods dangled, swaying in the breeze and catching the sun as they clinked together. The sound and the shine of the sunlight hurdled her back in time to a visit nearly twenty years ago. She was 7, Drake 9, and they were bursting with excitement over the gift they’d made their mother, with Bastien’s help, of course. Bastien had cut the pieces of metal, letting Drake help him punch holes so that they could be strung from a small wooden disk that Savannah had painted. Their mother had beamed and carried on about how gorgeous it was and how lucky she was to receive such a beautiful and thoughtful gift, promising that it would grace her porch forever. The paint was faded and chipped, the wooden disk cracked and nearly split in two from years in the unrelenting Texas sun. But there it still hung. So she hasn’t forgotten about us… That thought and the dilapidated wind chime gave her the courage to walk up the porch steps and knock on the red screen door.

When her mother answered, however, that courage evaporated. The look on Bianca’s face was one of mixed fear, anguish and regret, swirled with a touch of defensiveness, and Savannah wished she could take back the knock, take back her trip to Texas, and go back to New York where it was easy to disappear into the crowd. “Savvy…” she gasped, but quickly regained her composure. “What are you doing here?” the woman asked her, propping the door open just enough to speak, not enough to be welcoming. She crossed her arms over her chest as her graying hair danced on the breeze.

Savannah didn’t know how to answer, so she blurted out, “Just thought you’d like to know you were going to be a grandmother. Just thought you’d like to know that your children are still alive.” She heard the venom in her voice and it both surprised her and didn’t- she was hurt, again, let down, again, by the woman before her. “But I was wrong, I guess, huh?” Bianca said nothing, but Savannah caught her eyes flick up to the wind chime. “This was a mistake…” she followed Bianca’s gaze to the chime before crossing the porch and reaching up to remove the chime from the hook that had been screwed into the porch’s wooden roof. Without a word, she took the chime and turned her back on her mother, climbing into the cab of the truck she’d rented. She drove and drove, tears falling and curses flowing. Bianca Walker wasn’t family anymore.

Vanna was pulled back to the present as she realized that she had overfilled the glass in her hand, cold amber liquid flowing out of the tap and over her fingers. “Shit,” she muttered as she closed the tap and wiped her hand on the rag hanging from her apron. She cleaned off the rim of the glass, poured out a bit of liquid and topped it off achieving the perfect 2 inch foam head before sliding it down to Jay. She let her mind go to one last person- Drake. Drake would always be family. He would always be one of the most important people in her life. But she would always feel a twisting, burning feeling of regret for the way that she’d left him; just a note, but he deserved so much more, and she’d always regret not giving it to him. At the time, she thought she was doing him a favor, leaving before he found out about her child. She remembered, painfully, how destroyed her brother had been when he heard of the loss of his own child- a child he never even got to hold- and she thought that watching her go through a pregnancy, watching her raise a son on her own, would bring things up for him that he’d worked hard to bury. She thought, at the time she left, that she’d be doing him a favor-that he’d be better off without her to worry about, to try to take care of. She knew, now, that she was wrong. Every day she woke up full of missing him. Every day she woke up and knew in her heart that he missed her, too. But every day she woke up in New York City was one more day longer that she’d been away, and as the days turned to years she became embarrassed and anxious to reach out to him, knowing that she’d hurt him with her sudden departure. She wanted to but couldn’t.

When she’d spoken to Bertrand after the attacks, she’d gotten an update that had chilled her very soul- Drake had been shot. She’d sobbed and cried herself to sleep that night, despite Bertrand’s assurances that his surgery had been successful and that he was expected to make a full recovery. The only thing that had made her feel even remotely better is that Bertrand had told her that he was seeing someone, and that she hadn’t left his side, that she would be there for him in his recovery, would be there to help him in whatever way that he needed. Her brother was loved, and from the sound of it, loved fiercely. It was the only thing keeping her from complete devastation, and as much as she wanted to fly back to see him, to beg him to forgive her and to hug him more tightly than she ever had before, she knew that now wasn’t the time- that he needed to focus on healing and having her show up to tear open old wounds wasn’t going to help. She may have lost Bertrand. She may have lost Bianca. But she’d never really lose Drake, and she knew that. Drake Walker and her son were the only family that she had left.

That’s not true, said a voice in the very back of her memory. You have Bastien…you have…there was someone else, someone she knew was there for her, someone she knew had loved her very much as a child…someone she couldn’t quite remember, but she couldn’t completely forget, either. I wonder where she is now…I wonder if she remembers me… Her wondering was cut short as Jay called for more drinks and she pushed all the memories down to focus on the task at hand.

The night wore on in waves as it tended to on karaoke nights, until the clock struck 2am and Jay’s shift came to a close. He helped her restock a few items before she shooed him out. “Go home, Jay, I was late, you’re exhausted. Get home to that adorable little brat of yours.” She gave him a good-natured shove.

“Alright, ain’t gotta tell me twice,” he grinned. “Have a good night, V, hope the last two hours fly for ya.”

Jay lifted the trap door and exited the bar just as the bell above the door jingled, and two more customers walked in. Vanna lifted her gaze from the tap to the door and smiled as she saw one of her favorite regulars. She overheard him greeting Jay amicably before leading the girl he was with over to the bar. Who’s that? She wondered about the girl. Usually he comes with…

“Hey, V…” he said, the tone of his voice slightly off. She let the towel she was drying her hands on fall back down to her apron as she pulled the tap to pour Dan’s beer.

“Hey you, long time no see…where’s-“

“V, we need to talk…”

.  .  . .  .  .  .  .  .

Two days before they were supposed to leave for the Council’s trip to New York, Claire was perched on the back of the couch behind Drake, gently kneading the tense muscles of his injured shoulder. Her right leg was draped over his other shoulder, his fingers grazing her shin as he closed his eyes , leaning into her touch. “How’s that feel?” she asked, applying pressure to his shoulder blade with her thumb, rubbing in a circular motion.

He winced and let out a low hiss, but he responded with, “Feels amazing, Berkley, don’t you ever stop.” His eyes squeezed even more tightly shut.

Claire grinned. “Ever?” she craned her neck to look down at him, mischief sparkling in her clear blue eyes. “But if I never stop, how can we-“

Without warning, he gripped her leg and pulled her down and around his shoulders and into his lap, his right arm coming around her, his left hand sliding up to cup her cheek. Surprised laughter bubbled from her lips as he absently brushed his fingertips along her arm. A spark of mischief to match hers was reflected in his dark eyes, and a slow smile spread across his face. “In that case, you can stop now,” he said, voice low and full of intent. He dropped his head to catch her lips, but before the kiss could deepen, a buzz interrupted the moment as the phone in Claire’s pocket rang. “You don’t have to get that, do you?” he groaned.

“No way,” she breathed, kissing him back, bringing her hands up to tangle in his hair. But the phone continued to buzz, even after the caller had left a message. “Ugh…maybe I do,” she whined, reaching for her pocket without pulling away from his lips. She waited until she absolutely had to to pull apart, pressing the answer button before checking the caller I.D. “Hello?” she answered, eyes still locked on Drake’s as he continued to brush his fingers along her arm.

“C?” There was alarm and excitement and news in Dan’s voice, and it made Claire sit up straight.

“Dan?” The way she greeted him drew Drake’s attention.

“C…I just left The Hippo…I think I know where Drake’s sister is…you’re not going to believe this…”

.  .  .  .  .  .  .

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#the broken bits #trr #the royal romance #ltla follow up series #drake x mc #drake x claire #bastien x annabelle #bas x belle #bastien x oc #savannah walker #bianca walker #vanna #jay and v #choices fanfiction

[likethetailofacomet]

The Broken Bits, Chapter One:

Twenty One Years, Four Months, and One Day

A/N: Well, here it is, the thing I’ve been most excited about since LTLA was still only halfway complete. OF COURSE I love Drake and Claire with all of my heart, and I always will. And they will play a large part in this series, too. But the main players here are my beloved broken bits: Bastien and Annabelle. This series will take a look at how and why they fell apart, and if and when they might fall back together. I’ve always loved the beauty found in broken things- it reminds me that not all is lost no matter how stacked against you the odds may seem. Alright, enough of this or I’ll start waxing poetic all over your Thursday. 

Pairing: Bastien x Annabelle, Drake x Claire, Bertrand x ??? 

Warnings: mentions of character death

Word Count: 3,178

Bastien looked around the empty room that had served as his study for the past twenty one years and as Jackson Walker’s before him. The office of the Captain of the King’s Guard would be vacant for the first time in Cordonia’s history; because for the first time in Cordonia’s history, there would be no King to guard. He spun, slowly, eyes roving over every nook and cranny of the empty shelves, over the nicks in the walls from where things had been thrown in frustration, over the diamond patterns of the leaded window panes. These four walls and the title that came with them had bound him by duty to set aside anything that wouldn’t fit within them. His mind went immediately to the framed photo that used to sit on the desk that used to fill one corner of the room, and to the ethereal, copper haired woman it used to depict. Annabelle. Even thinking her name inside this room was difficult; she was a free bird, and her wings were best spread outdoors. But not a day went by, when, sitting in this room, he hadn’t wished that he was anywhere else, anywhere with her. Not a day went by that he didn’t wish for more than the broken bits of their love, slashing through his memories; her laughter and the way it started in her eyes, her hair and the way it would always get in his mouth, her fingers and the way that they were always stained with charcoal or paint or grass or mud. He tried to imagine her now, imagine how time may have changed the shape of her face, or the curve of her body. He tried to imagine that no matter what had changed, that she was still Belle, still the brightest star in the sky, still the sweetest song on the breeze.

But he knew that he was far from the man that she’d left behind, and he wondered in what ways she may have changed, too. He wondered, more often than he’d like to admit, if she’d kept her word that she’d wait for him. He was surprised to find, as the years went by, that he both hoped she had and hadn’t. Part of him held on to that fragile fiber of “what if”; what if he was able to give her what she wanted? What if he was able to get away from the danger of his position like she’d begged him? Would she still have space in her heart for him? That idea, the thought of her waiting in Paris…waiting for him…waiting with all that love and no one to share it with…that idea made him ache, and as painful as it would be to find out that she’d moved on, part of him hoped that she had. Annabelle Walsh had so much love in her heart, and Bastien thought it would be a damn shame if that all went to waste simply because he couldn’t give her as much of himself as she wanted. She deserves someone that can put all the pieces back together, and show her that she was never broken in the first place, not someone who took a sledgehammer to her dreams, he’d think, sipping a glass of leathery bourbon at the end of a long day, reflecting on all the ways that his life wasn’t right for hers.

Now though, standing in the empty room, he found a third part of himself that he never knew was there, and that part told him that he might be able to erase all the “what ifs” and all the doubts- that he might be able to start over, start fresh. Now, there was a part of him that existed only to find her, to know, once and for all, not what could have been, but what might still be. He tapped his fingers twice against the windowsill, gazing out at the grounds for the last time. Echoes of the thousands of conversations that had happened in this room behind a closed and locked door faded as her voice, like a song, filled his head and he heard the words that she’d written to him the day that she’d left Cordonia. He’d read them so many times he could see the curling blue ribbons of her scripted handwriting with his eyes closed, could feel the soft texture of the handmade paper on the tips of his fingers, could smell the ink as though she’d just dipped her pen in it minutes and not decades ago.  

Bastien,

                I am broken, Bas. It breaks me, leaving like this, leaving you. But I know that it would only break me more, crush me, really, to stay and lose you. I can’t do what Bianca did, Bastien. I can’t stay here and wait for a car to pull up outside. I can’t stay here and wait for someone in a suit to tell me that you’re not coming home. I lost my brother that way, Bas. I can’t lose you like that. Not you.

                You have to believe me when I say that all I’ve wanted since we met is just for us to be together. For you and I to be together, Bas. But we can’t be together if you’re not willing to give yourself to me- your whole self, not just the parts that you can spare, not just what’s left over, or what doesn’t fit in your job description. You told me that your position as Captain would only be temporary- that you would find someone suitable to take over, and that you’d leave the King’s Guard. And I waited, Bas. I waited the six months you asked me to wait, and then I waited six more months. I can’t help but wonder if you ever intended on leaving, or if you just hoped that I’d give in. But I can’t give in to this. You were shot, Bastien, and you were lucky this time. But luck always runs out, and I can’t be here when yours does.

                Do you remember Paris, Bas? We talked about it, dreamed about it, about the life we could make there. That’s where I’ll be. I’ll wait for you, Bas, but I can’t wait here. If there is ever a time that you have space for me in your life, come find me in Paris.

Forever yours,  Belle

He tapped his fingers against the window ledge once more as the words he’d committed to memory finally gave him something to hope for. As much as he loved Annabelle- like the moon loved the stars, like the sun loved the Earth- there was something in him, something he was born with, something fostered by Jackson’s tutelage that kept him from being able to put that love before his duty. He’d sworn an oath, not just to his King, but to his future King, to his country, to the other members of the guard, to Jackson himself, and Bastien took that swearing seriously. He reasoned with himself that to break the oath he’d taken would be to prove himself a liar, untrustworthy, and therefore unworthy of Annabelle’s love. If he could break that vow, what was to stop him from breaking another? That was the reason that his 25 year old mind had come up with, and for a long time it was a sound reason, to him. But in the years that had passed in her absence, he started to see things with new perspective. He watched the way that Bianca was broken after losing Jackson- how the fact that he had died honorably meant nothing to her battered heart. He watched as others in the guard fell in the line of duty, watched as their husbands and wives and families mourned them, and not their accomplishments. He watched the way that Drake had allowed Claire’s love to completely transform him, and he couldn’t help but wonder how Annabelle’s might have done the same to him. Yes, he still felt bound to his position, but he found that it had less and less to do with the King that he served, and more and more to do with the hope that he was holding onto for the future. And now that future was here- here in this empty room. All those oaths, all that honor, all that duty. What did it mean, now? He looked around once more. There was nothing to see. It meant nothing, now. With an exhale of more than just breath, he left the room, and his duty, for the last time.

.  .  .  .  .  .

Four months had passed since the attack at Ramsford. Four months since the remaining members of the Seven Devils, Lady Kiara of Castelsarreillan among them, stood trial for their crimes and were sentenced to life imprisonment. Four months since Liam announced the changes that had sent ripples through all of Cordonia. At first, there was shock and some pushback from some of the older Noble families- the Pykes of Essenwood, to be specific, but overall the changes were being well-received. Almost all of the Council positions had been appointed, and new governmental legislation was being passed almost daily. There was still plenty of work to be done, but four months was not that much time.

Four months, and Drake was still recovering from his injuries, still working through physical therapy, still paying for the sacrifice he’d made. He still could barely lift his arm, still had to limit his activity, still couldn’t get through a night without waking in agony. Four months, and most of Claire’s nightmares had subsided, but plenty still seeped in between her closed eyelids. After finally being able to sleep in the same bed as Drake, his presence kept most of the more awful visions at bay, but not all of them were so easily expelled. She had been undergoing therapy since the second week after the attacks, finally making strides to heal not just these new wounds, but the old ones that had been haunting her for far longer than the past four months.

It had been four months since Bertrand Beaumont had learned that his younger brother Maxwell would be chosen as the Representative from Ramsford. He wasn’t at all surprised. In honesty, Bertrand knew that Max was better suited to help usher in a new age. Max was brighter, his mind more open. Bertrand’s mind was shackled by the old way of things, by custom and protocol. He knew that wasn’t what Cordonia needed, not anymore. He thought about the night of the ball... of the attacks on his home... and how all he could think of was them. Would he see them again? She’d called him several times that night, and even as he wondered if he’d ever see them again, he couldn’t bring himself to call her back. She’d made it clear that she didn’t want him back in their lives when he’d finally tracked her down and visited her during the social season. How much could have changed? Four months wasn’t that much time. 

Brielle had spent a few sleepless nights after seeing her sister’s name scroll across the television of the bar she was playing at. American Suitor Claire Berkley listed amongst those injured in terror attack at Cordonian royal ball. She hadn’t seen her sister in years. Most days she tried not to think about her, her heart aching with regret over the terrible things she’d said to her the last time she’d seen Claire. But three triangles inked onto her wrist stood as a permanent reminder of the sister she had estranged herself from. After learning that she’d made it safely through the chaos abroad, Brielle had spent a few more sleepless nights, tossing and turning, trying to decide how and if she could reconnect with her sister. It had been four months, and while that wasn’t much time, she thought she’d come up with a plan. A good one. I’m sorry, Claire, I’m so sorry.

.  . .  .  .  .

Annabelle sat cross legged in the gallery. For the past four months, all the papers had been reporting on the shifting state of things in Cordonia, one of France’s oldest allies. The dissolution of the monarchy. The end to nobility, to House this and House that, to knights and guardians of the realm... to the King’s Guard. She thought of Liam, the tiny little thing he was when she saw him last; now making big changes, bold moves. She smiled. I knew that little lion would have a mighty roar, she’d allow herself to think. She’d read about Drake’s appointment to the new Common Council... about how he’d been seriously injured in the attacks. My sour little apple, I hope you find the sweetness now. She’d allowed herself to think about one last name that she’d read in the papers. One last name that she still thought about daily. Bastien. My silver eyed hawk... are you finally free? Four months, she’d asked herself that question. But four months wasn’t very long at all. 

Twenty one years, though, was a long time to think about one name. It was a long time to wonder, to hope, to cry and love and hate and hate that she loved. It was a long time to defend the love she’d walked away from to her family, to her friends. It was a long time to defend it to herself. She had two allies, and it had been too long since she’d been able to speak with either of them. She looked around the gallery, quiet in the early morning as the sun’s first rays spilled in through the windows, glinting off of the glass in the frames that hung all around her. Most of the art was hers, now, though a few of Brigitte’s works still remained. The gallery itself was hers, now, on paper, though in her heart it would always be Brigitte’s.

She sighed, sipping her coffee and pulling her sweater around her shoulders. She hadn’t understood the full extent of Bastien’s relationship, his attachment to Jackson Walker, until she’d found the same thing in Brigitte. It had been two years, almost to the day, since Annabelle had lost the woman that had come to mean more to her than her own mother; who had been there for her and supported her and helped her grow as an artist, as a woman, as a person. She’d taught her French, she’d taken her under her wing; she’d kept her afloat in the moments when she was sinking fast. “I have no children of my own, mon petit oiseau,” she’d said during one of their last morning coffee sessions together, one of the last mornings that Brigitte was strong enough to come into the gallery. She’d set her warm, nut brown eyes on the grown woman who would always be her little bird, and Annabelle could remember how thin her face had looked, how frail the immensely strong and free woman had become in her illness. “But you, my darling Belle, you have become my family, and there is no one else in this wild world that I would trust more with my gallery.” It had been a short few weeks after that when Annabelle had said goodbye to Brigitte, and at that moment, she’d understood everything that Bastien had felt about his mentor- all the duty, all the promises, all the things he felt like he owed him. Oh what a mistake I’ve made. The regrets that had been building up inside of her since she fled Cordonia threatened to burst from her heart, but she’d fought them back, held them in, kept them from corrupting her. Until now. Until the past four months.

Her other ally, whom she hadn’t heard from in almost a decade, when the two had had a major falling out over Bianca’s absence in her children’s lives, had called her late one night after the news of the attack broke. Annabelle could hardly believe the number that was flashing on her phone as she groggily answered it, heart pounding in her throat.

“Annabelle?” the woman’s voice was raspier than she remembered, more raw, more thin.

She cleared her throat, sitting up in bed. Her eyes immediately went to the small, mosaic frame that had sat on her bedside for the past twenty one years- dried glue was visible seeping out from shells and bits of sea glass that a tiny Savannah had stuck to a wooden frame that Bastien had nailed together. The photo depicted Bastien, grinning with Drake on his shoulders and Liam hanging off of his arm and Savannah leaning against his leg. It was from that day on the beach, when Bas had made good on his promise to help the boys build a clubhouse, when Belle had given Savannah a long “princess braid” and helped her collect “beach treasures”. It was the last real happy memory that she had with them all, and it was her most cherished possession. The call from Bianca frightened her, thinking the worst, she found her voice. “Yes, Hi, Bianca…I’m here…is it…did you hear something?”

There was a second of stillness over the line before the woman spoke again, the hint of a sob stuck in her throat. “No, I…I haven’t heard anything, Belle…I was hoping that maybe…maybe Bastien had…”

“He hasn’t,” Annabelle clutched the blankets around herself and closed her eyes.

“And…” there was another second of hesitation. “And nothing from Drake either? I know…” Annabelle could hear an exhale of breath that sounded like crying. “I know that… that you care about him very much…”

More than you know, Bianca. I care about that sour apple more than you could ever know. “I do, Bianca. Very much. But I haven’t heard from him. I haven’t heard from anyone in Cordonia in ages… I would tell you, if I had.” It was true. Despite her feelings on Bianca’s broken hearted abandonment, she of course would never keep information about her children from her.

Another sound like a sob. “Okay, well…well I thought it was worth a try…”

They’d ended the call and Annabelle had picked up the frame, running her fingers over the shells and the bubbled, dried blue. She’d cried herself back to sleep that night, the frame resting against her chest.

Twenty one years- she’d lived her life, she’d travelled, she’d found happiness. But she’d waited, as well. Twenty one years and four months, she’d waited to be made whole again. The clock tower outside the gallery struck 9 and she sighed again, setting her coffee down on the counter and walking across the room to unlock the door. She passed by one of her more recent works and saw him in it, as she saw him in everything. Come find me in Paris, Bas, she thought to herself as the door lock clicked and another day began.

Twenty one years, four months, and one day.

tagging:  @ooo-barff-ooo  @sleepwalkingelite @zaffrenotes @brightpinkpeppercorn @jovialyouthmusic @mind-reader1 @endlessly-searching-for-you @notoriouscs @endlesstaylormckenzie @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @drakewalkerrosenberg @akrenich @nekkidmolerat @indiacater @thequeenofcronuts @the-everlasting-dream @the-whiskeywife @roonarific @stopforamoment @mkatschoicesblog @mfackenthal@drakewalkerisreal @jlouise88 @drakesensworld @gibbles82 @gardeningourmet @iplaydrake @speedyoperarascalparty @bobasheebaby

#the broken bits #tbb #the royal romance #trr #learning to love again follow up series #ltla follow up series #bastien lykel #annabelle walsh #bastien x annabelle #bas x belle #bastien x oc #bas x oc #drake x mc #drake x claire #drake walker #claire berkley #jackson walker #bianca walker #jackson x bianca #bertrand beaumont #brielle berkley #savannah walker #liam rhys #trr au #trr fanfiction

[likethetailofacomet]

The Broken Bits, Chapter Three:

Remember Me

A/N: Bastien joins Drake and Claire for dinner and memories play a part in answering some questions that Drake has. Annabelle is reminded of all that she left behind and all that she might still get back. 

Pairings: Bastien x Annabelle, Drake x Claire 

Word Count: 3,022

Song: Remember Me, Augustana

Will you hear me blowing in the wind? Will it give you shivers down your skin? Will you stop and stare, wonder if I'm there? Will you think about me now and then?

The rocks crunched beneath the tires of Bastien’s car as he pulled off of the dirt road and into the long, secluded driveway that lead to the cabin. Thick evergreen trunks cropped up on either side with silver stars starting to dot the sky above, and before long he was met with the sight that had at one time been a staple in his life: the warm glow of the kitchen light through the window, two figures moving inside setting a table. He pulled up alongside the blue truck that was already parked in front and turned the engine off. The Walker home would always feel like home to him as well for all the times that Jackson and Bianca had welcomed him for weeknight dinners and holiday celebrations. He stepped out into the crisp night and headed up the path to the porch, a bouquet of flowers in one hand, a bottle of bourbon in the other.

As the car door closed with a heavy metallic thud, he saw Claire look up and wave through the window, a bright smile on her face. It brought a smile to his own pewter eyes, and he raised one elbow to wave back, both hands full. As he headed up to the front door he was hit with the memory of bringing Annabelle here for the first time; something in Claire’s wistful wave had stirred something that had been dormant for years. He felt a slight tightening in his throat and he recalled the way she’d nervously clutched his arm as they’d climbed the steps.

 “What if they don’t like me, Bas?” she’d asked.

“Not possible,” he’d said with a grin before leaving a quick kiss on her cheek. “Besides, you’ve met Jackson already.”

“Yeah, just…” she bit her lower lip and looked up at him as they paused on the steps.

“Belle,” he cupped the side of her face with his hand, fingers sliding behind her earlobe. Bastien looked into her eyes and for the first time in his life, he saw something that he was undeniably sure of. “Not possible,” he said again. She’d smiled and it reaffirmed what he’d seen in her eyes; that this was it, him and Annabelle, and that this was love.

The cool breeze blew through the dark boughs of the tall pines and took the memory away as quickly as it had come to him, leaving only the lingering feeling of her fingertips in the crook of his arm. He’d been thinking about her at lot in the past few months, as he transitioned from life with the King’s Guard to simply having his life to himself. It was an adjustment he was never sure he’d actually make, but one he’d been wishing for since the day he came home to her note. The end of all the things that were keeping him from her- from giving himself to her the way she wanted and deserved. The upcoming trip that Liam had planned for the council would be the last time Bastien provided his services as head of security, and then he would be truly free go to her. Before his thoughts could reach for her, the door swung open and Drake was there to greet him.

“Bas,” he greeted him with a grin. His tie was loosened but still around his neck, the top few buttons undone, and his sleeves were pushed up around his elbows.

“Hello, Drake,” Bastien smiled back and stepped through the door into the familiar surroundings of the living room.

Claire appeared from the kitchen, drying her hands on a red checkered towel before swinging it over her shoulder. “Hi, Bas!” she exclaimed, all brightness as she snuck past Drake to hug Bastien. Her thin arms came around him before he could unload either of the items he was carrying, eliciting a chuckle as she squeezed him. “It’s so good to see you,” she said as she let go, Drake’s arm coming around her waist. They looked like a family and it made Bastien extremely happy.

“Claire,” he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, his coarse stubble scratching her smooth skin. “Always a pleasure to see you.” His eyes shone warmly as he extended the bouquet of red and white Amaryllis out to her. “Congratulations, Miss Cordonian citizen.” She had finalized her paperwork earlier that day, coming home with her new passport displaying Drake’s address as her new permanent residence.

Claire beamed as she took the flowers, bringing them to her nose to inhale their scent. “Thanks Bas,” she said, looking as happy as Bastien felt.

“And this is for you, Councilman,” he handed the bottle of leathery bourbon over to Drake, his eyes locked onto the younger man’s. He watched as Drake reached out and took it, eyes scanning the label. His Adam’s apple moved in his throat as he swallowed the ball of emotion that seeing that bottle brought on.

“Is this…” he asked, fingers curling around the neck of the bottle, already knowing the answer to the question. It was the same bourbon his father always kept around the house; the same that Jackson had toasted Bastien on his first night in the King’s Guard, and the same that Bastien still toasted him back with nearly every evening.

“He’s proud of you, Drake. And so am I.” Bastien stood watching as the look on Drake’s face changed to one of appreciation.

“Thank you,” was all Drake could say as the two shook hands, Bastien clapping him on his shoulder lightly. 

Claire headed back into the kitchen to put the flowers in water and finish with dinner as Drake and Bastien moved towards the table. They sat and Bastien asked Drake how his first day on the council was, Drake excitedly recounting his day. Claire listened in, smiling to herself as she doled out portions of hearty chili with freshly baked corn bread, passing them to Bas and Drake before taking a seat in front of her own bowl. The three dug in, enjoying the warmth of the fire that crackled pleasantly behind them in the next room. Bastien caught Drake glancing over at Claire smiling through a mouthful as she talked excitedly about passing her citizenship test, and watched as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. Happy. They’re just happy, Bastien thought, finishing his meal. It was all he wanted for them.

“Claire, that was excellent,” Bastien said when they had all finished, pushing his chair back from the table. “You’re quite the chef.”

“Glad you liked it,” she said brightly, rising to collect the bowls. “Old family recipe.” She stacked Drake’s bowl on top of hers and ran her hand along his shoulder as she passed behind his chair. He reached up and gripped her fingers, bringing them to his lips for a kiss. They locked eyes for a second and Drake’s lips twitched into a small smile. Bastien passed his empty bowl to Claire who thanked him and brought the dishes and silverware to the sink. She busied herself with cleaning up and putting away leftovers, packing a container for Bastien to take home with him as well. Drake cleared his throat as she turned the water on to start the dishes.

“Bas, I…I need to ask you something,” he said, leaning his elbows on the table top.

Bastien shifted in his chair keeping his eyes focused on Drake. “Sure,” he responded. “Everything alright?”

Drake nodded, took a breath and answered, “Yeah, everything is fine I just…” he shook his head. “Bas, when I was in the hospital…after the attack…before I was awake I…” he dragged a hand through his hair as Bastien sat quietly. “I had a dream.” He looked up as Claire shut the water off, coming back to sit next to him. She reached for his hand and he gave it to her, their fingers linking. “I saw my parents, I saw Claire,” he looked over to the woman he loved, his eyes softening as they fell on her face. “I saw you, too, Bas,” he said, looking back across the table at him. “And all that made sense to me, because you’re all the most important people in my life…because there were similarities…what happened to my father… and me…and Bas I saw you get hurt, too…and there was a woman.” Bastien felt his throat tighten, felt a stale, old nagging pain shoot through his chest as his heart pounded. “At first I couldn’t remember her name…but then I heard your voice...”

“Annabelle,” Bastien heard his own voice, felt the name scrape against his tongue as it left his mouth.

Drake nodded. “She must have been important to me…but I can’t remember how or why… who was she, Bas?”

Who was she? His thoughts swam with her; the soft contour of her lips as they pressed between his shoulder blades in the middle of the night; her long graceful fingers wrapped around a charcoal pencil and smudged with dark gray smears; the tingling way her laughter would catch the breeze and float through the air. Annabelle. Her whispered, breathy I love you, Bas. Her eyes full of tears and her voice full of pleading. Her absence.

Bastien sighed and scrubbed a rough hand over his face. “She’s the woman I love, Drake…she…she was my world…she’s my world.” Bastien felt his brow furrow and his heartbeat quicken, but then a wave of warmth washed over him as another memory seized his mind.

“Belle, let’s close up out here and…” he’d come into the small living room of their apartment after cleaning up the kitchen. They were babysitting Drake and Savannah while the Walkers celebrated their anniversary. He’d expected to find Annabelle tucking the children into their sleeping bags on the couches, perhaps bargaining with Drake to close his eyes. Instead he’d come in to find her sandwiched between two sleeping faces, Savannah’s fingers clasped tightly around Annabelle’s, Drake tucked under her arm and nestled against her side, her long copper hair cascading over them like a curtain. She was asleep, too, and Bastien was hit hard with how simple and beautiful and normal and right the whole scene looked. He looked around the living room at the easel in the corner where her latest painting stood, and the two pieces of sketchbook paper she’d taped on the wall for Drake and Savannah to paint on while she worked. His eyes fell on the empty popcorn bowl that they’d all shared while watching a movie after dinner, remembering the laughter that bubbled out of the three of them. This could be mine someday, he thought to himself as he leaned over her sleeping form to brush a kiss to her lips. She stirred awake, blinking her eyes open. “Hey,” he whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Hey,” she hummed, sitting up gingerly and unwinding her arm from around Drake. “They wouldn’t fall asleep without a story,” she explained, raking her fingers through Drake’s messy locks as his mouth fell open in sleep. She stood, turning back to pull the sleeping bags up over both of them before facing Bastien again.

“Let’s get some sleep, they’ll have us up early I’m sure,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to her temple as he laced his arm around her waist, pulling her to him. All this could be mine, he thought to himself with a smile as he flicked the light off and lead her to bed, all this will be mine, someday.

“Bas?” Drake’s voice snapped him back to the present and he felt her slip from his thoughts again. He blinked and met Drake and Claire’s eyes.

“She loved you and your sister very much, Drake.” He said, truth keeping his voice even. “We…she and I, we used to watch you two for your parents sometimes and she,” he sighed, “she loved you. It makes sense that you saw her in your dream.”

“Where is she, Bas?” Claire’s voice was a curious whisper tinted with sadness as she read the emotion he was sure was clear in his eyes.

Bastien averted his eyes as he answered. “Paris…she…I wanted to marry her…but she wouldn’t while I was captain of the guard.” He shook his head. “She had a brother who she was very close with- Andrew- he was a few years older than her…He was a police officer and he was killed on the job,” his heart ached as he recalled the first time she told him about Andrew and the way her eyes had shattered into tears at just the mention of her brother’s name. “She was afraid of losing me that way…she said she couldn’t marry me while I lived in danger…said she’d wait for me in Paris…” He trailed off, looking out the window at the night sky, wondering if the sun was up yet where she was, casting pinkish light through the slats in the blinds and dancing in her hair.

“We’re set to travel to Paris on this trip with the council,” Drake said, knowing that Bastien had agreed to come along on the trip, lending his services one last time.

The silver-eyed man nodded. “Yes,” he said simply, and something in his tone told Drake not to press the matter further. “Maybe I’ll see her again.” The thought had been the only one swirling in his head for weeks. Maybe I’ll see her again, maybe I’ll love her again, maybe she’ll be mine again. It was the only thought that mattered, the only thought that scared him, the only thought that had his entire future hinging on it.

“Maybe,” Claire said, but there was hope in her voice, and strength, and Bastien knew she was trying to encourage him. It was working; Claire Berkley had a way of making even the most hopeless things seem possible.

He left Drake’s that night with her name echoing through his heart and his mind. Annabelle. I’m coming, Belle, I remember your promise…do you remember me?

.  .  . .  .  .  .  .

“That’s very good, Celine,” Annabelle stood behind her student, watching the way she blended blues and grays on the edge of her brush to add texture and depth to the canvas in front of her. The little girl’s hair was tied back, but there was a dab of yellow paint coloring the ends of her braid, and without warning she became Savannah Walker, perched on a stepstool in front of a taped up piece of paper on the wall, her fingers covered in purple and green. The flash changed and Celine was back, her toothy grin beaming up at her teacher, as Annabelle wiped the paint from her hair with a paper towel. “You’re improving, little dove.”

Later, as they were waiting for Celine’s mother to come get her from Annabelle’s apartment, Celine wandered around looking at the paintings and photographs that covered the walls. Occasionally she’d ask a question, “did you paint this, Belle?” “where are you in this picture?” “is this your family?”- the last question caught Annabelle’s attention and she spun on her heel to see the photo from her bedside table in Celine’s hand. Bastien, Liam, Drake and Savannah with sun on their shoulders and seawater in their hair and laughter on their faces. She could still see the way they smiled at her as she looked through the camera lens, could still feel the way the ocean was crashing in her chest as she imagined someday having all of that with him.

“As close to a family as I ever had,” she answered finally, noticing that Celine was still looking at her and holding the frame. “You remind me of the girl in that picture, little dove.”  She ruffled Celine’s hair, taking the frame from her and swallowing the knot in her throat.

“Where are they now, Belle?” she looked up expectantly. Children were always full of questions, and to them, all questions should have answers.

Annabelle sighed as the doorbell chimed announcing Celine’s mother’s arrival. “They grew up and flew off,” she said, moving to press the button on the panel near the door.

“Are they gonna fly home?” Celine clutched the painting she’d done that day.

“Maybe,” Annabelle looked at her contemplatively before her eyes darted out the window. She wondered where they all were now, wondered if they remembered her, if she was written in their hearts like they were in hers.

Celine smiled. “I hope so, Belle.”

“Me too, little dove,” Annabelle tapped Celine on the nose and gave her a smile. “Me too. Now, your mom is waiting. I’ll see you next week, okay?” The girl nodded, smiling wide to show off her missing teeth as she said goodbye and headed out into the hallway to meet her mother. Annabelle waved to the woman and watched as the little girl linked hands with her mother and they walked away chatting excitedly about Celine’s masterpiece.

“I want to give mine to Mommy and Papa!” Savannah announced proudly as Belle stood behind her at the bathroom sink, rubbing her hands together under the water. The white porcelain swirled with wisps of violet as the paint ran from Savannah’s fingertips and down the drain.

“They’ll love it, Savvy,” Belle assured her, shutting the faucet and wiping her hands off with a towel before turning to see if Drake needed help. She knew he wouldn’t, preferring to do everything for himself, the independent little apple. She felt Bastien’s eyes watching her as she helped the kids clean up, and she liked the way it felt. We could have this, someday. We will have this, she thought.

She closed the door and returned to her quiet apartment. Do you remember me, Bas? Do you remember the promises you wanted to make- the ones I didn’t let you keep? I remember. She felt a tear slip past her eyelashes as she allowed herself, just this once, to hope that he was coming for her. Remember me, she pleaded, please, remember me.

.  .  .  .  .  .  

Tagging: @ooo-barff-ooo @sleepwalkingelite @zaffrenotes @brightpinkpeppercorn @mind-reader1 @jovialyouthmusic @endlessly-searching-for-you @notoriouscs @endlesstaylormckenzie @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @akrenich @nekkidmolerat @indiacater @thequeenofcronuts @the-everlasting-dream @the-whiskeywife @roonarific @stopforamoment @mfackenthal @mkatschoicesblog @drakewalkerisreal @jlouise88 @drakesensworld @gibbles82 @iplaydrake @speedyoperarascalparty @bobasheebaby @carabeth

#the broken bits #tbb #bastien x annabelle #bastien x oc #bas x belle #drake x claire #drake x mc #drake walker #trr #trr bastien #the royal romance #claire berkley #annabelle walsh #choices fanfiction #ltla follow up series

[likethetailofacomet]

The Broken Bits, Chapter Two:

Come Again No More

A/N: Moving right along with this new age in Cordonia’s history and what it means both politically and personally. 

Pairing: Drake x Claire, Bastien x Annabelle 

Word Count: 4,124 

Song: Hard Times, Eastmountainsouth

Let us pause in life's pleasures and count it's many tears While we all sup sorrow with the poor There's a song that will linger forever in our ears Oh, hard times come again no more 'tis a song a sigh of the weary Hard times hard times come again no more Many days you have lingered around my cabin door Oh hard times come again no more

Claire looked out the window in the kitchen, the just risen sun reflecting off of the lake’s surface like diamonds, the green of the trees and the vines and bushes glowing like emeralds, like jewels of the forest. Home. She took a sip of her coffee as she let the word sink into her bones. Sure she’d stayed with Drake throughout most of the social season, but the constant danger they’d been living under had kept her from ever feeling safe. Safe. Another thing she hadn’t felt in ages. She set her mug down on the counter and moved closer to the window, leaning against the cool glass as she looked out. The last time she’d felt truly safe, truly at home, was 4 years ago when she was with her mother and Brielle; before moving to New York, before working at Keagan’s, before Alex and before Cordonia. When she closed her eyes she could still picture their front porch; the swing with the large, always fluffy cushions covered in floral patterns and caked with actual pollen from the black eyed susans and tiger lilies and lilacs that grew along the rail. She could still see the glass door and the big picture window that would hold candlesticks at Christmas and giant shamrocks for St. Patrick’s Day; could still see the tiled kitchen table, the light wood cabinets, and the one drawer that didn’t quite close all the way from that time Brielle had shoved too much junk into the junk drawer. When she opened her eyes all those images were gone, but the feeling remained, and that’s how she knew that this was her home now.

She listened as the breeze blew through the trees, a gentle whoosh as the leaves and branches swayed in the sunshine. She heard the sweet sounds of swallows singing as they swooped low over the lake. So different from the sounds of the city that she’d left behind, all harshness and volume. She took a breath and focused on the sounds she could hear inside the cabin- the coffee maker dripping, brewing a second pot of coffee for the day, the fireplace crackling, warming the whole first floor, the water rushing through the pipes from Drake’s shower. It was that last one that made her feel the most like this is where she was meant to be- Drake. Claire sighed, thinking of the man who held her heart, who’d held it from the moment that their lips met that first, electrifying time. He’d been making excellent progress in his recovery after the attacks at the Engagement Ball in Ramsford, and Claire knew that he was thrilled to be able to do something as simple as shower without help- up until two weeks ago he’d still been in a sling and unable to raise his injured arm more than a few inches. Small steps, she was constantly reminding him, are still steps in the right direction.

 “I know, Berkley,” he’d say with a grumble, brows furrowed and a determined look in his deep eyes. She’d brush the long roguish hair from his face and drop gentle kisses to the corners of his eyes until the annoyed little crinkles there smoothed themselves back out and he’d sigh. “I just hate not being able to do things…or hold you…”

Claire knew that Drake hated feeling dependent on anyone but himself, and that even leaning on her these past few months had been difficult for him; not because he didn’t trust her, but because he wasn’t used to having someone to trust, not in this way anyway. “I know, baby,” she’d say, all patience and love, “but you will.”

The sound of the water stopped as he turned off the shower. Claire helped herself to more coffee, pouring a mug for Drake as well. She pulled the milk from the fridge and added a splash to his leaving hers black before bringing both mugs to the small table. She sat, gazing out the window absently, her thoughts returning to the newly found feeling of home as she waited for Drake to come downstairs. She brought the dark, bitter liquid to her lips, breathing in the nutty aroma before taking a big gulp of coffee. As it slid down her throat waking her up, she heard the heavy sound of his footsteps coming down the stairs. She turned in her seat and pulled one leg up tucking her foot beneath herself. This. This is part of what made this place home; seeing him in the morning, coming home to each other at night. Her heart swelled like it had every morning as he made his way into the kitchen, but faltered at the frustrated look on his face.

“Berkley, I need... can you...” he sighed and frowned, holding a towel in his good hand. His hair was still soaking wet, his shirt only buttoned half way from the bottom up. He’d shaved, a piece of tissue stuck to a nick near his chin, but otherwise his face was completely smooth save for the furrows in his brow and the tight set of his lips. It wasn’t just his shoulder, Claire knew; he was nervous, though he wouldn’t say it.

She rose, wordlessly, and crossed the room to where he stood. Drake cast his dark eyes downward before flicking them back to hers. Oh, Drake, it’s okay. She swallowed a thick knot, her hands going to his face, turning it so he’d look her in the eye. “Good morning, sunshine,” she said, simultaneously raising on her toes to capture his lips, and reaching out to grab the towel from him.

The feel of her lips on his instantly softened his frown as he kissed her back slowly. “Good morning, Berkley,” he sighed, relinquishing the towel to her grip, hand going to her waist. Without prompting, she brought it up to his shaggy hair and started to dry his dripping locks.

“How’d you sleep, Councilman?” she asked, finishing with his hair, running her fingers through it loosely.

“Fine,” Drake replied as she tossed the towel onto the countertop. Her fingers went next to the unbuttoned buttons of his shirt, starting around his ribs. He’d done as many of them as he could, but Claire knew it was still hard for him to keep his arm up for an extended period of time, and washing his hair in the shower had maxed out the ability in his shoulder for the morning.

“Just fine?” she questioned, one eyebrow arching high. “You were snoring all night…seemed pretty restful to me.”

“I don’t know…good I guess…”

She could tell that he was on edge about the first official Council Meeting taking place in just a few hours. Of course there had been plenty of strategic meetings and Drake had been in on all of them, but this would be the first gathering of the entire Council since they’d all sworn in two weeks previously. Claire had beamed proudly at him as he swore to serve the citizens of Cordonia fairly and to uphold law and peace in their country, and they’d celebrated that night by going out to dinner, just the two of them. He’d been so happy that day, so sure of himself and confident that he’d do the best job that he could in his new role as Valtorian Representative to the Common Council. Now that it was time to actually step into those shoes, she knew he was having some doubts and jitters. She paused her buttoning to grip the lapels of his shirt and pull him closer to her, pressing her chest flush against his body.

“Hey, look at me,” she whispered, a faint smile on her lips and in her eyes. He complied, dropping his gaze to her face, mouth falling open, a small breath slipping out. Claire held his eyes with her own for a few seconds, demanding his attention, insisting that he drop his insecure thoughts. She placed her hand flat against his chest, over his heart where it was beating with nerves. “This is the best thing to ever happen to this country, Drake. This council… this new chapter…” she felt his fingers curl around her waist as she continued. “And you’re part of it. And you’re going to be great, Drake. I know it, Liam knows it…Bastien has said so…and I think you know it too, huh?” Her smile grew as in his eyes something changed, and he knew that she was right.

He took his hand from her waist and brought it up to cover hers, wrapping his fingers around her whole hand. “You really think so…” it wasn’t a question, it was a realization- she believed in him, and not just because she loved him.

Claire nodded as he squeezed her hand. “I really do,” she said. He loosened his grip to let her finish his buttons before ducking his head to catch her in another kiss. Both hands went to her hips as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against hers. A small, breathy sound came from the back of Claire’s throat as Drake’s tongue slipped into her mouth, sliding against hers.

“You taste like coffee,” he said smiling, lips still pressed to hers.

Claire nodded, breaking the kiss with a tiny peck, and fixing a stray piece of his hair. “Just made some,” she said, stepping away to grab his mug and hand it to him.

“Thanks, beautiful,” he said, and Claire knew he was thanking her for more than the caffeine. He followed her to the small kitchen table, sitting across from her, their feet finding each other, Claire’s resting on top of Drake’s. They passed the morning by talking about everything but how nervous Drake still was; Claire had an appointment with immigrations to finalize her citizenship, she also had an appointment with her therapist, and then errands to run including a stop at the market to pick up items for dinner that night.

“Don’t forget,” she said as she handed him his to go mug at the front door. “Bastien’s coming for dinner tonight.” She smiled as she said it, absolutely ecstatic that Bas had agreed to join them. She had grown to adore the man, and loved the relationship he had with Drake, loved the sense of family that she felt whenever the two of them were together.

Drake smiled, knowing how excited she was. “How could I forget, Berkley?” he dropped a quick kiss to her nose and sighed. “Okay,” he took a deep breath, eyes widening. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it, but…luck.”

Drake felt his heart skip as he looked at her standing there in his doorway- their doorway. It could be any doorway in the world, he thought, and if she were standing in it, it would be home. “I love you, Claire.”

“I love you too. Now get out of here so I can be productive.” She pushed him playfully out the door, careful of where she placed her hands so as not to put pressure on the still sore, still healing scars that covered most of his left pectoral and shoulder. As she pushed, she leaned out the door and watched him shake his head, a grin on his face as he walked to his truck and climbed in. Drake Walker, Cordonian Common Council Representative for Valtoria, suit and tie and rusty pick up. She bit her lip. Oh how I love this man. Claire stood on the porch until his truck was no longer visible, before heading back inside to get ready for her day.

As the clock struck 8am she felt the phone in her pocket buzz, and she answered it without having to look at the caller I.D. “Hey, stinker,” she said, a smile drawing itself across her face as Dan’s voice returned her greeting. She had about twenty minutes to kill, and he had just gotten off of work, so the two chatted a bit, filling each other in on what was going on in their lives. Dan asked how Drake was feeling about his first day as a councilman –‘Nervous, but he’ll be great, I know he will,’- and Claire asked if he’d gotten over his crush on Olivia yet.

“It’s not…C…come on you know me… you know I don’t do crushes…I just…she’s nice, okay? We talk from time to time. That’s all.” Claire covered her mouth with her hand so as not to laugh directly into the phone as Dan stuttered and sputtered.

“Sure, D, whatever you say. I’m not rolling my eyes at all,” she said as she rolled her eyes. They amicably filled all twenty minutes talking and teasing as if they hadn’t gone three and a half months without seeing one another, as if there weren’t thousands of miles and an ocean between them, as if there were only precious few hours before they were both standing behind the bar cutting lemons and prepping margarita mixers. Easy. Their friendship had always been easy, would always be easy.

“Love you, Stinker,” he’d said after she promised to call him the following week to let him know how Drake’s first day was. She finished her coffee in one gulp and set about her errands for the day with one last look around the cabin, thinking again how happy she was that they’d be hosting Bastien for dinner.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .

Drake arrived in Fydelia early. While the palace was being reallocated as a tuition free trade school, complete with dormitories, classrooms, offices, athletic fields and more, the smaller Mythra Estate House, which had served as a second home to the Royal family for years, was now being used to headquarter the Common Council. Drake couldn’t even come up with a guess at how often he’d been in this building- dozens and dozens of times throughout his life- but stepping through the door on that day made it feel like a whole new place. Everything still looked the same- one of the conditions that the more traditionalist members of the former Noble class had held tightly to, was that all Royal buildings and estates should be maintained and preserved no matter what their new purpose would be. But just because the trim and carpets were the same meant nothing about how it felt to walk through those doors.

A smiling young intern greeted him from a small wooden desk. “Good Morning Councilman Walker,” she squeaked, as she stood. Her curls were barely contained in a bun at the back of her head, her eyes wide with eagerness and made to look even wider by her glasses.

Drake smiled warmly at her. She looked about as nervous as he felt. “Good Morning,” he responded, gesturing with this coffee laden hand as the other was gripping his briefcase.

“I’m Norah,” she introduced herself, straightening her skirt nervously.

“Nice to meet you, Norah,” he nodded to her. Drake had pushed heavily for college students to be employed as interns for the Council. His theory was that if there were young minds that were passionate about this new page in Cordonia’s history, then they should certainly be a part of writing it. Norah seemed like this was her dream job, and Drake felt his smile widen. “Are you studying politics?”

Her green eyes flashed with excited interest. “Yes,” she nodded so vehemently that some pieces of hair fell from her bun. She scrambled to fix the strays as she continued. “Yes, and, well, Councilman Walker, I know that you were the one that pushed for the interns and I just want to say thank you because you are the reason that I’m able to be here, at the start of all this, and…” the words were spilling from her lips and it reminded him of Claire and how she always spoke in double time when she was nervous or excited or frightened. “And well I just wanted to Thank you, sir, and let you know that I’m happy to help however I can.” She grinned sheepishly and adjusted her glasses.

Drake felt his smile spread and some of his nerves dissipate. “Well,” he cleared his throat, not sure how to respond to her outpouring of gratitude. “Well, it’s my pleasure, Norah. We’re glad to have you. Now,” he glanced at his watch. “Can you tell me where I’m supposed to be?” he let a casual little laugh escape him as he asked.

“Of course, sir,” she nodded and gestured down the long hall in front of her. “The Council Chambers are straight through there, located in the old Library. I believe Councilwoman Nevrakis and Councilman Beaumont are already there.” Drake thanked her and she resumed her position as he headed to the room that she indicated.

Within fifteen minutes of his arrival, Drake was seated at the large mahogany table with the full Common Council: Liam sat at the head of the table with Leo, Representative from Fydelia to his right. Next to Leo sat Olivia, representing Lythikos, Maxwell representing Ramsford, and Kyla Manifustos- Cordonia’s top Social Justice attorney- representing Essenwood. Drake took the seat directly to Liam’s left, with Hana next to him- she’d be representing Portavira as Penelope had declined the offer to pursue the aspirations that the nobility had kept her from. The last seat was given to Asher Kaliphos of Castelsarreillan. Drake didn’t know much about him, other than that his appointment to the council had caused waves with some of the traditionalists; he had been the former head of the coalition for reform, a group that had been responsible for several peaceful protests in the past decade. His appointment had actually come at Leo’s suggestion, his reasoning being that to keep things fair and even, all viewpoints should have a place at the Council table. Drake represented the common people, Olivia and the Rhys brothers were a nod to tradition, while Hana offered an outside view, Maxwell- the younger of the Beaumonts, represented overlooking the long standing tradition of the eldest sibling inheriting titles and land, and Asher and Kyla stood to show the rest of the country that this new system, the Common Council, was not simply a reset of Cordonia’s old ways, but an actual representation of the people that lived there. Drake knew it meant that they might butt heads. He was hoping for it, actually, as it meant that passionate opinions were being represented and heard, and kept from turning into rebellions.

The Council discussed a variety of topics ranging from Education to Disaster Relief to Foreign Policy, but the biggest item of discussion was the upcoming diplomacy tour that Liam had announced shortly after the swearing in. As Cordonia was making drastic changes, they owed their closest allies personal visits to assure them that their alliances still stood, and their first trip would be a three pronged affair stopping first in New York, then Milan, and finally Paris. Liam explained that half of the council- himself, Maxwell, Olivia and Drake- would travel while the other half – Hana, Asher, Leo and Kyla stayed behind. The trip would begin in just three days’ time, and Drake realized that that would be the new pace of his life; short notice, lengthy trips, long meetings. None of that was a deterrent to him though, because he knew how badly this all needed to happen…knew it was the only thing he could do to try to help make his country more safe, more secure, it’s people happier and better provided for. These things were all of great importance to him for many reasons, but of course, Claire was one of those reasons.

Drake rose from the table as the meeting concluded, thinking about her bustling around the kitchen preparing dinner. He thought about waking up next to her and taking her out for a horseback ride and walking hand in hand on the beach. He dared to imagine her in a white dress, dared to imagine a family in their future. These were things that he knew he wanted. He knew he wanted them with Claire, and he knew he wanted them here, in Cordonia, so he’d do his part to help his country for the people, for Liam, but also for himself and the family he dreamed of building with the woman he loved. He said goodbye to the various council members, lingering a while to speak with his friends, before heading back out the way he entered the building. He said a quick goodnight to Norah, who even after six hours still looked at bright eyed and enthusiastic as she had that morning. He shook his head with a smile, thinking to himself how that brand of enthusiasm would have bothered the old Drake, but he found himself already taking a liking to the overly committed intern. He sent a quick text to Claire to let her know that he was on his way home. Home. To her. He smiled to himself as he climbed into the truck and started the ignition.

The drive from Fydelia to Valtoria was about an hour, so Drake had plenty of time to contemplate the evening ahead of him. He’d been meaning to talk to Bastien about the ethereal dreams he’d had right after his surgery, but so much was happening and changing and all so urgently and quickly, and he’d been focusing on his recovery through it all. This would be the first time that he’d get a chance to sit down and really talk to Bas. He’d shared his dream with Claire; he’d seen his parents, a flash of a memory of them dancing and laughing. He’d seen himself and Claire, remembered the way she begged him to come back to her. It had become clear to him why Claire appeared in his dream, why his parents had. But there was a third couple as well- a young Bastien and a copper-haired woman named Annabelle who he could almost remember, but every time he tried to think of her, she danced further from his memory until she was gone. He sensed that she’d been important to him, but couldn’t remember how… he sensed that she’d been important to Bastien, and couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been in love with her.

Drake knew that Bastien considered him and-his heart ached to think her name, but even Savannah- as his own family; knew that he had no wife, no children of his own, but until the dream he’d had, until he’d seen Annabelle, he’d never given it a thought.  Bastien was Bastien- always there, always strong. He was the closest thing Drake had to having his own father in his life. He’d been there for Drake on countless occasions, and Drake looked up to him more than anyone else he knew. Drake Tonight, in his home with Claire, he’d finally get his chance to broach the topic. He was excited that Bas was joining them, as he knew that Bastien had joined the Walkers for many a family dinner, and now that things were finally starting to feel peaceful for both of them, he looked forward to having that happen more often. No more heartache, no more hard times. Only peace, now; only progress.

.  .  . .  .  .  .

Annabelle folded the newspaper she’d been reading and stood to cross the darkened room. She gazed out the window of the gallery as the lights along the Seine came to life, thinking about what she’d just read and trying not to let her hopes soar too high. The Cordonian Council was set to travel to Paris and with every beat of her heart she heard his name. Bastien. Bastien. Bastien. For just over two decades she’d only been able to survive by not thinking of him; by simply hoping that one day he’d show up out of the blue. Now she wondered how many times he’d been in Paris and not come to her. She wondered if he’d come with the delegation and if so, if he’d finally be ready to lay aside all that had kept them apart. She hated the way her heart was tearing at itself both wanting and dreading the day to come so that she’d know once and for sure if he was still holding on to her. Forever entwined, she’d told him once, and felt it still. As the moon rose over the river, Annabelle locked up and headed to the place where she sleeps- it wasn’t home, she’d never called it that; home was in his arms, and in just over a week she’d know if home was a place she’d ever return to again.

tagging:  @ooo-barff-ooo  @sleepwalkingelite  @zaffrenotes@brightpinkpeppercorn @jovialyouthmusic @mind-reader1 @endlessly-searching-for-you @notoriouscs @endlesstaylormckenzie @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @akrenich @nekkidmolerat @indiacater @thequeenofcronuts @the-everlasting-dream @the-whiskeywife @roonarific @stopforamoment @mkatschoicesblog @mfackenthal @drakewalkerisreal @jlouise88 @drakesensworld @gibbles82 @gardeningourmet @iplaydrake @speedyoperarascalparty @bobasheebaby @carabeth

#the broken bits #tbb #drake x claire #drake x mc #bastien x annabelle #bastien x oc #bas x belle #bas x oc #liam rhys #leo rhys #maxwell beaumont #olivia nevrakis #hana lee #the royal romance #trr #trr au #ltla follow up series #choices fanfiction

[likethetailofacomet]

Sunday Six 3/31/19: The Broken Bits- Interlude 4

A/N: Sorry kids, not a full chapter, but please enjoy this interlude from Bastien’s perspective! (hoping to have the thursday/sunday posting schedule back on track this week!) 

Fydelia, 22 years ago

“Captain Walker?” Bastien sat across from Jackson in the older man's study, a glass of bourbon in front of him. He'd had something on his mind for days, turning over and tumbling, scratching at his every thought, but he wanted to wait for the right time to bring it up. Their ritualistic Friday night meeting in Jackson's study seemed like the only time.

Jackson raised one eyebrow and looked up at his protege as he finished folding up the cuffs of his sleeves. He deposited his cuff links on  the desk, and pushed them away from the edge, toward a framed photo of Drake and Savannah by the lake behind their home. “You see the time, Bas?” he tilted his head toward the clock on the wall. It was ten past midnight. “You see the sleeves?” He rolled his shoulders foreward, exposing his forearms. “I'm Jackson, now, got it?” He sat back in his chair, sinking into the leather with a sigh as he reached for his glass. “Now, what's got your gears turning over there?” He made a circular motion with one hand as he raised his glass to his lips.

Annabelle's face flashed behind Bastien's eyes as he blinked, grabbing for his own glass and an excuse to stall. She'd been insistent that things in Cordonia were becoming more and more dangerous, the general unrest growing from a hush to a whisper to a loud discourse over the course of King Constantine's reign. When she'd arrived, she believed what the tourism industry wanted to- that Cordonia was a picturesque fairy tale, a place so beautiful that nothing bad could ever happen. She'd let herself believe that Bastien's job couldn't be all that dangerous- afterall, when they'd met, he hadn't even been required to carry a firearm. That had changed, as had the frequency and variation of the training drills the King's Guard had been running. Bastien knew it worried Annabelle, knew that she had exactly one fear. She'd made that clear on New Year's Eve when she'd asked him if he'd leave the guard, and he saw how that fear changed the color of her eyes, heard how it altered the pitch of her voice in ways he'd never seen. He'd noticed little things, leading up to that night, now that he could look back with perspective- little things like the way she'd held him tighter in her sleep, like he might evaporate before she woke up; like the way her sketchbook was changing from a portfolio of blossoms and vines, to one of severe birds of prey in grays- Little things that added up to quite a sum. “Jackson,” he took a breath, broaching the topic. For Annabelle. “I...I want to propose to Annabelle.” Bastien held up a finger, sitting forward quickly to stop Jackson from reacting. There was more to be said. Jackson took note and sat back, letting him continue. “But she's made it clear that she won't marry me while I'm in the guard...while I'm as highly ranked as I am...She thinks Cordonia's gotten dangerous and...” he sighed and shook his head, running his hands through his hair. “Well, I've told you about her brother, and...she'd scared. I just... was Bianca ever scared? Did she ever...ask you to leave? To...quit?” He leaned his elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the man before him, hoping he had all the answers.

Jackson took a long pull from his glass before setting in on  a cork coaster. He laced his fingers together and cracked his knuckles before he steepled his hands, palms together, pointer fingers extended toward the bottle of amber liquid on the shelf. “You know why I drink Bourbon, Bastien? Why I drink American Whiskey and not Scotch or anything else for that matter?” It was a rhetorical question, but Bastien shook his head anyway, eyes on the bottle. “It's because that's what Bianca's father drinks, and he gave me permission to marry his daughter, so he must be right about everything, right?” he winked. “Bianca had no idea what to get me for my birthday, the first year we were together. We'd only been seeing one another for a few weeks, and I insisted that she didn't need to do anything, that my birthday wasn't that important and that we still had to get to know one another. She of course, protested, and ended up getting me a bottle of this,” he gestured again towards the bottle. “Now, I was always a gin guy, myself, until Bianca forced a birthday gift on me.” he laughed, seeming to recall some memory of him and his wife before she held that title. “You're probably wondering where I'm going with this.” He took another sip of his bourbon. “Truth is, I'd do anything for Bianca. She shaped my life, she gave me my family. She's my partner in this world, she's my other half. If she asked me to? Yes. I'd leave the guard. But I know she'd never ask me to. That woman,” he smirked, blowing out a breath through his nose. “Is stubborn.” He set his glass back down. “But I couldn't live without her.” A serious flash flicked across Jackson's face. “Could you live without her, Bas?”

“No.” The answer was out of his mouth before the question was completely asked. “No,” he said again with a shake of his head from behind his glass. A hot wave rushed through him that had nothing to do with the alcohol and everything to do with the way that Annabelle was the rhythm of his heart. “She's everything, Jackson...she's...she's my world.” He thought of the way she smiled, of the way it felt when she kissed his shoulders, his back, of the way she looked with paint on her hands and in her hair. “But...the guard...” he shook his head again, brows knit close together. “You'd really walk away? From the promises you made?”Jackson had simply raised a brow and nodded and Bastien knew he was serious. 

He thought for a few beats, weighing Jackson's words; both said and unsaid. His mind wandered to her, picturing her lying in their bed, clutching his pillow, her long legs taking up as mush space as possible, long orange hair spread out in swirls across the sheets and her face. He wanted her, like that, every day and every night and every moment in between. “Maybe if we catch the Sons of Earth...maybe if we get Eamon Krass...things will die down again...and she'll see...it'll be safe again....” Jackson hadn't responded, and Bastien cleared his throat before checking his watch. It was nearly one am, and suddenly he wanted only to be where Belle was, with this arms around her, holding her close while he had her to hold. He stood, abruptly, drawing Jackson's attention. “I've got to get home...” He said absently, sticking his hands in his pockets. “I...Thanks, Jackson...for listening, for...thanks...” Jackson tipped his glass to Bastien as the younger man headed for the door, his feet unable to catch up the beat of his heart.

Tagging: @ooo-barff-ooo @sleepwalkingelite @zaffrenotes @brightpinkpeppercorn @mind-reader1 @jovialyouthmusic @endlessly-searching-for-you @notoriouscs @endlesstaylormckenzie @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @akrenich @nekkidmolerat @indiacater @thequeenofcronuts @the-everlasting-dream @the-whiskeywife @roonarific @stopforamoment@mfackenthal @mkatschoicesblog @drakewalkerisreal @drakesensworld @gibbles82 @iplaydrake @speedyoperarascalparty @bobasheebaby @carabeth

#sunday six #six paragraphs because i'm wordy #the broken bits #interlude fydelia #bastien #young bastien #jackson walker #trr au #ltla follow up series #bastien x annabelle #bas x belle #jackson x bianca #layers #the moments in between

[likethetailofacomet]

Sunday Six 4/7/19: The Broken Bits- Interlude 5

A/N: this week’s Interlude answers a request from @bobasheebaby for :

Fydelia, 22 1/2 years ago

Annabelle paced the pavement outside the hospital, arms hugging her chest for warmth as the day turned to night, the air temperature dropping with each new star that blinked into view. She kicked at the curb, scuffing the white soles of her canvas sneakers. She’d been waiting inside with Bianca and the kids, but once they got the news that everyone was going to be fine, Bianca had taken off. Annabelle couldn’t blame her; Savannah had fallen asleep in her lap an hour ago, and Drake was fighting sleep with all he had, only making him crankier. It had been a long day for all of them, made longer by the trip to the E.R. She sighed and wiped at her exhausted eyes before combing her fingers through her hair, curls made wilder by the salt water and sun. The day had started out so differently than how it had ended.

She’d been thrilled to attend the Regatta that year, having missed the previous year’s due to her R.A.A. fellowship schedule. This year, she’d be seated in the stands with Bianca and the Walker children. She’d come to see the Walkers as family, and was excited to be spending the day with them in the fresh air and sunshine. She much preferred these types of events to the more elegant affairs, feeling more herself in denim than dresses. She’d brought her sketchbook with her, eager to capture the colorful flags, billowing sails, and crystal clear, rippling water. Balancing her book on her knee, she let Savannah lean in close to watch as boats appeared with a few swipes of her pencil.

As the races went on, she’d intermittently caught glimpses of Bastien and Jackson as they scanned the crowd and kept close to the royal family. She’d winked and waved at Bas as he stood behind the little princes, Liam and Leo waving excitedly back thinking she’d been waving at them. She’d pulled her lips into a grin at their happy little faces, at the wink that Bastien had sent back to her with a twitch of his own lips. Cloudless sky. Golden sun. Good company and a heart bursting with love.

It had all been dashed when suddenly, in the break between the last race and the award ceremony, she’d watched as Bastien’s metallic eyes locked on to a man carving through the crowd and heading towards the King. He’d shouted something to Jackson, and in a flash they’d sprang into action at once coordinating the evacuation of the royal family- Jackson barking an order to another nearby King’s guard member- and tackling the would be aggressor. Annabelle’s breathing stopped and her heart beat in her throat as she watched the man she loved engage with the attacker- watched him take the man down, landing painfully on his shoulder. A flash of silver caught the sunlight as Jackson expertly stripped the man of his gun, all as the crowd gasped and screamed and fled- all but she and Bianca, too rooted by anxious fear to move or even breathe. She felt Bianca’s white knuckled grip on one hand, felt a frightened Drake tugging on the other, but her eyes were stuck on Bas. Even as she watched him and Jackson subdue the attacker with ease, her head swam with what could have happened, her stomach dropped. It had been a whirlwind from there on out as she and Bianca were lead by other members of the guard to the hospital where Jackson and Bastien would be taken to be treated for the injuries incurred in the incident.

Annabelle leaned against the concrete pillar outside the emergency room door and sighed. She’d run through the gamut of emotions from terror and anger to sadness and finally, relief. Bastien had suffered a dislocated shoulder and cracked humerus- nothing requiring surgery or stitches, but he’d be in a sling for a few weeks as the bones reset. She couldn’t help but think of how things could have gone, but the rush of relief was almost just as hard to handle, wiping her out with how her emotions had swung so drastically. When the door to her left opened, she lifted her eyes to the stars, silently wishing that this would be the one and only time she had to wait for him like this.

“Belle,” he approached her slowly, knowing that she’d been worried and scared. “Belle I-“ they had a lot to talk about, but she could t hear it now. She cut his words off with two fingers against his lips, with her eyes holding his. She felt his breath catch as he swallowed what he was going to say, and she licked her lips before they crashed to his. Her hands came to his face as she whimpered into the kiss, his uninjured hand resting on her hip. Whatever he had to say, whatever there was to talk about, it all could wait for the sun to come up in the morning. For now, for the day they’d had, she needed this; needed his lips on hers under the stars, needed to feel his heart beating close to hers, needed the relief of this moment and the hope that it would never happen again.

Tagging: @ooo-barff-ooo @sleepwalkingelite @zaffrenotes @brightpinkpeppercorn @mind-reader1 @jovialyouthmusic @endlessly-searching-for-you @notoriouscs @endlesstaylormckenzie @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @akrenich @nekkidmolerat @indiacater @thequeenofcronuts @gardeningourmet @the-everlasting-dream @the-whiskeywife @roonarific @stopforamoment @mfackenthal @mkatschoicesblog @drakewalkerisreal @drakesensworld @rainbowsinthestorm @gibbles82 @iplaydrake @speedyoperarascalparty @bobasheebaby @carabeth

#sunday six #six paragraphs because i'm wordy #the broken bits #trr #ltla follow up series #bastien x annabelle #bas x belle #kiss prompt #kiss of relief #under the stars #interlude fydelia

[likethetailofacomet]

Going deep into the ruins of Bastien and Annabelle 

(look how young and beautiful they were!!) 

in preparation for what comes after LTLA. Thanks to @zaffrenotes, I’ll have PLENTY of requests to keep busy for these two...which is wonderful because I have to fill 3 years with blissful young love, starting of course with their first encounter. Here’s a little snippet just to make you fall in love with them as much as I have: 

“Excuse me miss, can I help you?”

She jumped and let out a little gasp at the sound of his voice and the way it echoed off of all the metallic surfaces in the room, her hand flying to her chest before clearing her throat and straightening her spine. She jammed her arms down to her sides, clearly trying to look more confident than she felt. “Hello, yes, ji,” her voice was clear, like a chime, and her accent was unmistakably American, but not southern like Bianca’s. “I’m Annabelle Walsh...I’m here on the R.A.A. Fellowship.” She smiled expectantly, as if those letters should mean something to him. 

“So you’re with a group then? This is a private entrance, you’ll need to use the public one, I’m sure your group is there waiting for you.” 

“No, I’m not with a group, I’m... it’s my first day here, I’m,” she checked a slip of paper that she pulled from her pocket. “I’m looking for a Jackson Walker,” she squinted at the paper again, “He’s the Captain of the Guard, he’s supposed to meet me and give me some sort of orientation.” A determined look crossed her face, mixing with frustration as he tried to shoo her away. 

“I know who he is,” Bastien smiled at her, one side of his mouth twitching upwards. She was clearly nervous, clearly dumbfounded by the wealth and the culture and the history. He understood, he remembered feeling the same way, trying not to let it show on his face as Jackson gave him his first tour of the grounds. “Captain Walker is in a meeting until-”

“Noon,” she said with him. “I know, I’m early, I,” she bit her bottom lip, adjusting the strap of the bag on her shoulder. “I figured I could sketch while I waited...if...if that’s alright, of course.” She wavered back and forth between proud and stubborn and nervous and uncomfortable, and again he understood: the Cordonian Palace was rather beautiful but quite severe. 

“As long as you stay right there where I can see you and you don’t touch anything, I don’t see why not.” 

She smiled, a glint in her eyes that looked like mischief, even if she wasn’t about to partake in any. “Cross my heart, mister...” she trailed off questioningly. 

“Bastien,” he introduced himself, suddenly as enthralled by her as she was by the art and architecture. “Senior Apprentice to the Captain of the King’s Guard.” He hoped that sounded impressive to her, because it was about the only card in his hand. 

“Pleasure to meet you, sir, and thank you for indulging my obsession,” she gestured to the broad sketch book and satchel of pencils and charcoal that she pulled from her bag. 

Bastien sat back down at the desk, keeping his eyes on her as she spread her book and supplies out on the speckled marble floor. “Likewise, Miss Walsh-”

“Annabelle,” she pointed a charcoal pencil at him. “Or Belle. No need for the Miss Walsh. I’m a starving artist, not a noble lady.” She began sharpening her pencil on a little razor that he probably should have confiscated. 

“Alright, Annabelle,” he said, enjoying the way her name made the corners of his mouth pull up in a quick involuntary smile when he said it. “So what are you here for?”

She raised her eyes to him as she blew the shavings from her clean white page. “R.A.A. Fellowship. Geeze, Bastien, you’re the senior assistant to the captain of the guard-”

“Apprentice-” he corrected her, but she didn’t hear and kept going. 

“-and you’ve forgotten what I said 3 minutes ago, and you let some strange girl bring a razor,” she held up her harmless sharpener, “into the palace?” she clucked her tongue at him playfully. “You’re a real pushover, aren’t you?”  She began dragging her pencil across the page, the rough outline of the sculpture to their left appearing on her page. 

He smirked. “I could have you detained, Miss Annabelle,” he reminded her, tapping his pen to his temple and looking back over the document that he clearly could not focus on. 

It was like a dream Starring you and me And the cool blue shade Of a lemon tree And I didn't think The whole thing through And we both know That's hard for me to do

But it was easy It was easy with you

- Easy, Cory Branan

(tagging @ooo-barff-ooo because she has warned me never to post Bastien related items without letting her know)

#bastien x annabelle #bas x belle #young bastien #young annabelle #ltla follow up series

[likethetailofacomet]

Bas and Belle

Hi friends!! So yesterday I posted an OTP ask with 32 questions and went looking for asks to get some fuel for the fire for the pile of ashes that is currently Bastien x Annabelle. They will both play VERY large roles in the upcoming follow up to LTLA (you know...if I ever get around to finishing that disaster) and I wanted to start fleshing them out as characters. Well, enter @zaffrenotes with her “DO ALL OF THEM” request and here I am 24 hours later...

MOST of the prompts are going to make their way into the actual story, but here are a few that i can share without spoiling anything:

2. If they could describe one another in one sentence, what would it be?

Bastien: She belonged in a meadow, with the sun and the breeze competing for which should play in her hair, with the swallows and jays swooping and singing songs inspired by her laughter, with her bare feet picking up the green of the grass and her fingernails full of mud- she belonged in a meadow but damn it all if she didn’t look perfect in a ballroom, too.  

Annabelle: His eyes made promises that his heart tried to keep- wanted to keep- and she knew he’d keep them all if only she would let him. 

3. If they complimented each other, what would they say?

Bastien: “Annabelle, you are the most breathtaking thing in this gallery,” he kissed her nose and pulled her closer to him, rumpling the papers on the bench between them. “Charcoal smudges and all, breathtaking.” 

Annabelle: “You’ll make him proud,” she whispered in his ear, kissing the spot just below it. “That’s the kind of man you are, Bas, you’re exactly the kind of man he taught you to be.” She meant every word and could tell how it lifted his heart, even as it tugged hers down to the ocean floor. 

7. Write a ~300 word love scene for them (OKAY!!) 

They got to Annabelle’s apartment and Bastien walked her to the door, her thin fingers interlocked with his, their lips still tingling from the things they’d said and the kisses they’d shared. He always walked her to her door, would always thank her for coming out with him, would always brush his lips to hers and promise to see her soon. But that night when they reached her front door, she didn’t let go of his hand, didn’t turn to face him so he could kiss her sweetly and wish her goodnight. Instead she looked sidelong at him, that same mischievous glint in her eye that was there when they met, sparkling at him in the darkness. She opened her door and pulled him inside, his heart and his lungs working overtime to try to keep steady, but he knew it was a losing battle. Inside. He was inside her home- a sacred place he’d yet to set foot in. She closed the door behind them and turned to look at him, her chest heaving with breaths slightly more labored than normal, her mouth open just so, lips still swollen from before. “Bas,” her voice was strained with wanting as she leaned back against the locked door. He took a step towards her, his fingers finding the fabric of her shirt at her waist, curling around her thin hip bones. “Kiss me again,” she whispered, and he happily complied. He ducked his head down to capture her lips between his own, his neatly trimmed beard scratching her smooth skin and drawing a breathy whimper from her. The heavenly sounds she made turned gears in his mind that made his hands rove up her body, palms conforming to every hill and valley, every curve of her hips and torso and breasts, only producing more sounds, only turning the gears more quickly. His tongue entered her mouth, his breath mingled with hers, and he worked his fingers up her neck and into her hair, enthralled by how it felt as he clutched it by the fistful. They broke apart to come up for air and she collapsed, breathlessly, against the locked door. “Stay the night?” she asked. He responded with a one sided smile as his hands found the backs of her thighs and lifted her like she was weightless, her long legs wrapping around his body, their chests pressed together.

“The night, the week…forever, Belle, I’m yours as long as you want me. I love you…”

“Take me to bed and show me,” she whispered, and this time the glint of mischief was warranted.  

17. What senses remind them of each other?

Bastien: white flowers remind him of how delicate she is, the sweet smell of pastries remind him of all the stories she’s told him about growing up above her grandparents’ bakery, he also thinks of her if he smells paint, imagining it staining her jeans as she sits in front of her easel. 

Annabelle: Bastien smells like cloves, so that scent always brings images of the two of them entwined to her mind, hawks and other birds make her think of him too- she calls him Hawk Eye or Eagle Eye a lot because he never misses a detail. 

22. If their lives were what was originally intended at birth, would they have still fallen in love?

Not the first time, that’s for sure. Annabelle came to Cordonia on a fellowship, yes, but she was also running away from her past. Her brother had been killed in the line of duty as a police officer, and her relationship with her parents had been strained long before that due to their divorce and their constant tendency to use her to get back at one another. So, had her brother never died, she arguably would have stayed in the U.S. and never met Bas... unfortunately, leaving America wasn’t the only time she’d run away...

Bastien grew up in foster care and ended up on the path to the King’s Guard by choosing correctly when he came to the fork in the road that said “shape up or ship out”. So, arguably, he would always be where he is today, however his personality and priorities have been shaped by his choices and his circumstances, so without Jackson’s tutelage it’s tough to say where Bas would end up. I like to think that these two are meant to be...that does’t mean that they met at the right time, though. 

32. Do they enjoy morning or night sex?

Yup. Bastien’s wonky hours mean that sometimes they spend consecutive days or, if he’s travelling with the Royal Family, weeks apart. He gets home sometimes when it’s past “night” but not quite “morning”, and they make the most of whatever you wanna call that time of day. Annabelle sometimes leaves the house before sunrise to get a good view if there’s something she needs or wants to sketch or paint, so occasionally, after the sun has come up she’ll come back home to find that Bastien has gotten home and found his way to bed. She never feels bad about waking him up with light kisses on his bare back, and it never takes more than three of them to energize him enough for whatever is on her mind.  

UGH. DONNA, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THESE ASKS!! I AM PLANNING TO FINISH LTLA THIS MONTH AND THEN MY MAIN GOAL IN LIFE WILL BE MENDING THESE BEAUTIFUL BROKEN BITS BECAUSE THEY DESERVE HAPPINESS! 

tagging a few who might be interested: @zaffrenotes @ooo-barff-ooo @sleepwalkingelite @brightpinkpeppercorn @bobasheebaby @endlessly-searching-for-you @mind-reader1 @andy-loves-corgis @agent-bossypants

#bastien x annabelle #bas x belle #young bastien #character asks #the broken bits #ltla follow up series #trr #the royal romance bastien

[likethetailofacomet]

.

Last Chapter of Learning to Love Again posts tomorrow!! I’m very much looking forward to exploring what’s next for Drake, Claire, Liam, Olivia, Bastien and the rest of the crew in the follow up series, called The Broken Bits, which will start shortly. I’ve already started working on it, and (dont tell LTLA but) it’s already got a very special piece of my heart and I can’t wait to share it.

A huge, echoing thank you to all who came along with me on this adventure. 🖤

.

#like the tail of a comet #drake x mc #drake walker #drake x claire #learning to love again #ltla #trr #trr au #claire berkley #choices fanfiction

[likethetailofacomet]

Fluff Requests Part 2

Part two of @zaffrenotes requests for @pixelburied ‘s Fluff ABCs. All of these little drabbles take place after the events of LTLA- some just after, some much after. I had so much fun turning my answers into little looks at their love that I decided to finish the whole ABCs so if you think these are disgusting cute, look for the rest sometime this week! 

!!! V- Vanity, what is something that they are proud of in each other? was also requested, but my answer contains spoilers for the LTLA finale and the follow up series The Broken Bits, so that answer will be re-worked into the full alphabet later this week !!! 

M – Movies (What kinds of movies do they watch together? Is it a regular Netflix ritual?)

(3 Months after LTLA)

“Berkley,” Drake grumbled as she fussed with the pillows and blankets. His frown was etched deep into his face and his eyes were full of disdain for his confinement, but Claire could tell based on his posture that he was in more discomfort than he was letting on.  “I’m not made of glass, you know,” his point was shattered like the glass he said he wasn’t when he winced at the slight movement of lowering his left arm over the top of the blanket that she had just spread over both of their laps.

She shot him a look out of the corner of her eye and he sighed as his expression softened to one of resignation. “What was that you said?” she asked him, smirking as she kissed his cheek. He’d recently started rehabilitation on his shoulder, having been cleared earlier that week by his cardio specialist, and he was sore. Achingly sore, and Claire knew it was because he was working as hard as his therapists would let him work so that he could get back to life as he liked to live it- actively an on his own terms. He was frustrated that the limited exercises they had given him were causing him so much difficulty, and Claire felt like she was constantly reminding him how little time 3 months actually is; how little time it’s been since his surgeries, and that he had screws and hardware in his shoulder. “You’re made of flesh and bone, Drake, not brick and mortar. It takes time to heal the right way; you don’t want to hurt yourself and prolong the process, do you?”

He’d groan and roll his eyes but he knew she was right- he was just a terrible patient and always had been. He pulled her closer with his good arm and reminded himself that just last month he hadn’t even been able to do that, to hold her, because it would put too much stress on the repaired joints and arteries in his opposite shoulder, back and chest. Progress, however small is still progress, his therapist would say when he’d get annoyed that he couldn’t lift something more than 5 pounds. But this wasn’t small progress, this was huge. Getting to feel her body next to his, to be able to squeeze her tightly to him, to hold her while they slept, that wasn’t small progress as far as he was concerned. Those were giant leaps.

“Okay, so, what movie did you choose?” Claire asked as she picked up the remote on the couch next to them. It was finally starting to feel normal again, this life they started building together during the social season, having him there on the couch, doing something so normal as having a movie night. She looked up at him as he released his squeeze a bit, settling back into a more comfortable position for both of them.

“Press play and you’ll find out,” he said, but she didn’t have to to know that he had chosen the John Wayne classic, True Grit- they had once shared their favorite movies to watch when they were feeling sick or under the weather. Claire’s was Breakfast at Tiffany’s, and this was Drake’s. She knew it was because he had precious few memories of time spent with his father, but that one of those memories was watching old Cowboy movies together. He’d told her how he’d sit on his father’s knee and Jackson would explain the things Drake didn’t understand, and tell him not to tell his mother when there were scenes that maybe he shouldn’t have seen. She knew this one was their favorite together because the good guys win out and John Wayne’s character makes it to the end. Apropos for his current situation. She smiled up at her cowboy and pressed play, and the two of them snuggled in for their first “date night” since the attacks, Drake whispering his favorite lines under his breath and Claire feeling her heart burst each time he did.  

P – Pizza (What is their favorite food to eat together?)

(10 years post LTLA)

“Shhhh! Eli, we have to be quiet, it’s a surprise. You know what surprise means,” Jacqueline was helping her four year old brother down the stairs, one little hand clutching tightly to his sister’s, the other wiping sleep from his eyes and hair from his face.

He nodded, yawning, and whispered, “Yeah. It means we gonna say ‘surprise, Momma and Papa!” he took his free hand, finger splayed, and waved it excitedly in the air.

Jacqueline nodded. She was taking charge of this mission, and she’d been planning it for weeks- since she was made aware that their parents’ anniversary was coming up, and she was taking it more seriously than most 8 year olds took anything. In that way and countless others, she was just like her father- determined, independent and driven. But she was also very much like her mother- patient, loyal and full of love, so she helped her brother up onto a step stool next to where Cecelia was already mixing a bowl of dry ingredients for pancakes. Jacqueline had left Celia with the task of pouring all the ingredients that Jacq had measured before going to get their brother, and was pleased that her little sister had managed to get most of it in the bowl, only wearing some flour on her cheek.

“Hi Eli,” Celia said without taking her focus from the bowl, and Elijah waved, another yawn sneaking out as he flattened both his palms against the counter. “Jackie, I wanna help Celie,” he said, looking at his project manager pleadingly.

Jacqueline was ready for this request, passing him a bowl of chocolate chips. “Here, Eli, can you make piles of ten chocolate chips? Papa says ten is the perfect number for perfect pancakes.” She said the last bit with certainty and pride, having helped Drake make pancakes on plenty of Sunday mornings. Elijah nodded determinedly and set to work.

Jacqueline handled the actual cooking portion of the meal, Claire having let her start to cook just last month despite her young age. She was exceedingly careful and since comfort food and baking love into everything was so important in the Walker house, it seemed inevitable that Jacqueline would develop an interest in cooking. She developed an interest in everything she tried. Cecelia and Elijah busied themselves with picking some flowers out of the flower beds in the back yard, and once everything was done, Jacqueline carefully loaded a tray with two plates stacked high with chocolate chip pancakes, the flowers, and two cups of juice. Cecelia and Elijah walked ahead of her and knocked on the door to their parents’ room, Elijah stifling excited giggles, Cecelia smiling ear to ear, and Jacqueline staring at the orange juice, begging it not to spill.

.  . .  .  .  .

They’d been awake, laying in the morning light and trailing kisses and fingertips over each other’s exposed skin. “Happy anniversary, Berkley,” Drake mumbled, his lips next to her ear before he nipped at the lobe and used his hand to turn her face to his. He looked into her eyes and it was like walking into that bar in New York all over again as it hit him in the chest how much he loved this woman.

She smiled lazily, reaching up for his face and tracing his eyebrows. “Happy anniversary, Drake,” she said dreamily before he leaned in to give her a slow kiss that stole the air right from her lungs. The knock came as they broke apart and her eyes sparkled. His did too. “Time to see what their surprise was all about,” she said. The kids had thought that they were being very secretive, but they’d have a lot to learn if they were ever looking for a career in espionage.

“Come on in,” Drake called towards the door, dropping one more kiss to his wife’s nose before they did.

“SURPRISE!” Elijah jumped inside the room and flung himself at his parents. He’d completely forgotten the pancakes, too excited for the ‘surprise’. Drake caught him and situated him in his lap with a chuckle.

“Hey, Eli,” he said, ruffling his own hair on his son’s head. “Hey my gorgeous girls,” he beamed as his daughters entered the room, Cecelia carefully spotting her sister as Jacqueline gingerly set the tray down on Claire’s lap. Claire leaned in and kissed both girls’ cheeks before pinching and kissing Eli’s as well.

“Happy anniversary!” the kids said in a sing song chorus, all extremely proud of what they’d pulled off.

“Oh, goodness!” Claire clapped her hands together, a wide eyed expression on her face. “Thank you, rascals!” she gushed over how perfectly the pancakes had come out as Drake set Elijah in between himself and Claire to let the girls climb up on his lap for their hugs.

The five of them lounged the morning away, eating pancakes in bed, and it was the best anniversary that the Walkers had had so far. “Ten years,” Claire said looking over to her husband, his mouth full of pancakes and a smudge of chocolate on his face. “Ten years and staying late to close the bar that night was still the best decision I’ve ever made.”

S – Soft (Something one of them did that turned the other into absolute mush) 

(a l m o s t  3 years after LTLA)

Claire woke up from the nap she hadn’t meant to take- “I’ll just lay down for five minutes,” she’d told Drake as he kissed her nose and nodded, knowing full and well that she needed much longer than that. Her hair was still damp from the shower and now sticking to the side of her face and neck. She blinked the sleep from her eyes and sat up inhaling deeply through her nose. She checked the time on the bedside clock and knew that Jacqueline would probably be waking up at any moment. She stretched and pulled her robe tight around herself and wandered down stairs to the nursery. As she got closer she heard something that absolutely melted her from the inside out. She crept closer to the door and peeked in through the slight crack from where it was open, and saw Drake, big hulking man that he was, cradling their two month old daughter in his arms. The look in his eyes was awe, adoration. It was the look that a man gets when he turns from just a man into a papa. But it wasn’t the way he was looking at their newborn girl that was melting her. It was the song that was drifting out of the room. It was the song that her own father used to sing to her and Brielle, and she’d never taught it to Drake, which meant he had learned it only by listening to Claire singing it to Jacqueline during midnight feedings when she thought he’d been asleep.

“Ah, ah, Papa’s love, Papa’s little turtle dove, I love you, yes I do, and m y little baby loves me too,” his deep voice was soft and calm as he rocked Jacqueline in time with the song, her little fists opening and closing as her tiny eyes slipped closed. Claire stood in the hallway, watching through the crack until Drake laid the tiny bundle back down in her bassinet.

X – X (Something they hate about the other)

(5 years after LTLA)

“Come on,” Olivia said, rolling her eyes and taking a long sip of her cider. It was a bright and sunny day and the Apple Festival was in full swing. Jacqueline was running around with Liam’s son and Olivia’s twins, all around the same age, with Maxwell herding them all like an Australian Shepherd- he was actually pretending to be a dog, barking at the kids on all fours as S’mores bounced around his hands, tail wagging excitedly. “You’ve been married three years now. There has to be something you hate about each other.”

Drake looked at Claire and scrunched his nose up. “I hate when her feet are stinky after she goes for a run,” he softened his crinkled face and kissed her nose as she feigned offense.

“And I hate when he tells me my feet are stinky after a run,” she laughed as Olivia rolled her eyes again.

“So not what I meant. I was looking for something real here, you know?”  She scoffed but they knew she was only playing around with them- knew that Olivia had actually become one of their biggest supporters. “You two are just gross, come on, gimme something,” she said smirking.

Claire’s eye caught a glimmer of mischief and Drake saw it, a smile climbing up his face as he knew his wife was about to mess with Olivia. “Fine,” she said, letting her face fall into a serious frown that took every ounce of fight in her not to break into a grin. “You wanna know what I hate about Drake?” Olivia sat forward and nodded attentively. “I hate his big dumb combat boots and the way he reads my mind,” she dissolved into tipsy giggles as she recited the poem from the movie Ten Things I Hate About You Olivia scoffing and choosing to head off towards where Liam and the others were.

Claire leaned in to Drake as they watched Jackie climb on Max’s back, S’mores jumping and putting his paws up on Max’s shoulders to try to reach his little human. “But I don’t hate you, not even a little bit, not even at all,” she grinned and he kissed her and tasted the apples on her tongue.

.  .  .  .  .  

tagging:  @zaffrenotes  @ooo-barff-ooo @brightpinkpeppercorn @sleepwalkingelite @jovialyouthmusic @mind-reader1 @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @drakewalkerrosenberg @akrenich @nekkidmolerat @indiacater @gardeningourmet @thequeenofcronuts @mfackenthal @mkatschoicesblog @drakewalkerisreal @jlouise88 @drakesensworld @stopforamoment @gibbles82 @iplaydrake  

#drake x claire #drake x mc #drake walker #claire berkley #walker and berkley #the walkers #fill it with love #fluff abc #trr #the royal romance #ltla #the broken bits #these two #i swear #they are the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed

[likethetailofacomet]

2019 Tag List Face Lift

Hey ya’ll! I’m going to be trying my best going into the New Year to be more organized in all aspects of my life, even here, even in my tag lists. That being said, I have no idea who wants to be included where, so if you see this, let me know which list you’d like to be added to or removed from! 

THE ROYAL ROMANCE TAGS

LEARNING TO LOVE AGAIN TAGS 

*COMING 2019, A FOLLOW UP TO LTLA- THE SISTER SERIES TAGS 

*COMING 2019, NAME TBD: A CIRCUS THEMED AU TAGS (click for the sneakiest peek) 

DRAKE X CLAIRE TAGS 

*COMING AT SOME POINT IN 2019, LIAM X OC TAGS

ENDLESS SUMMER TAGS 

THE END IS HERE: A ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE AU TAGS 

JAKE X KARA TAGS 

HERO TAGS

KENJI X APRIL TAGS 

RCD TAGS 

SETH X EMMA TAGS 

BLOOD BOUND TAGS 

JAX X SHILOH TAGS 

tagging ya’ll: @ooo-barff-ooo @sleepwalkingelite @brightpinkpeppercorn @zaffrenotes @endlessly-searching-for-you @mind-reader1 @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @indiacater @gardeningourmet @nekkidmolerat @notoriouscs @simplyaiden-blog @natalievgoodehenry @cordoniantrash @endlesstaylormckenzie @akrenich @jovialyouthmusic @feartheendlesssummer @sophie-summer @simmerbychoices @choiceslife @choices-is-life @the-everlasting-dream @the-whiskeywife @drakewalkerrosenberg @endlesshero1122 @simmerbychoices @roonarific @blackcatkita @edgydepressedchoicesthot @mysteli @xo-endlessmayhem-xo

#tag list #trr #es #hero #bb #rcd #drake x mc #jake x mc #kenji x mc #seth x mc #jax x mc #liam x oc

[likethetailofacomet]

Creator Tag Game

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favorite works you’ve created this year (fics, art, edits, etc!) and link them below (say why if you want) to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world in 2018. Tag as many writers/artists/etc as you want (fan or original!) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works. 

thanks @brightpinkpeppercorn and @zaffrenotes for the tags!! 

So 2018 was a big year for me in writing. I got back to it after MANY MOONS of saying I was a writer and then hardly being able to stick two words together. I met some people who convinced me to sit my butt down and write, and I read a lot of excellent work that inspired me to work harder. So here are the top 5 pieces that I posted this year in no order whatsoever: 

Future- Drake x Claire- This was my FIRST EVER fan fiction piece and I was so very hesitant to post it having never really shared my writing outside of a classroom or a school literary magazine, but I told myself not to be a baby and clicked the post button for the first time, opening the floodgates for all the madness that followed. This one doesn’t line up with the current timeline I’m writing for them in Learning to Love Again and these versions of Drake and Claire are somewhat different, but this was the one that started it all. 

CSaT Finale: His Whole World- Jake x Kara, Kenji x April, Varryn x Diego, Dax x Poppy- Cross Space and Time was the first series that I completed, the first time I tried to “alter” an ending that I was unhappy with, and the first time I wrote something that garnered me threats in case I did something to hurt Jake or Diego or Varryn. (I didn’t, no worries) I always hated the way Endless Summer ends, and the way that Hero has been stranded on PB island for like 17,000 years, so I took matters into my own hands and it was a very fun challenge. I love writing about Jake and Kara’s love because it is otherworldly, and it was fun bringing all the characters together for this crossover. 

Something New- Drake x Claire- This one kicked off the hot mess that I actually love, Learning to Love Again. I really really really wanted to create a world where Drake and Liam weren’t in competition for the same girl. I love that they see one another as brothers, and I never thought that aspect of their relationship was very brotherly. I wanted to give Drake freedom to explore love without wrestling with taking it away from his best friend. I loved writing a smitten, hopeful Drake, planning to return to New York and sweep Claire off her feet...I didn’t plan then for what it has become now...but hey we’re on this ride together friends! 

Big Shoes to Fill- Drake x Claire/ Drake x Dad Bas- One of my favorites in the LTLA series thus far, this one let me look at the dynamic between Drake and Bastien- a very different but still powerful type of love. It sets the tone for a lot of what happens next both in this series and after it, and was just as important to Drake and Bastien’s relationship as it was to Drake and Claire’s. 

The End is Here: Ch. 1- Not Again - ES Zombie Apocalypse AU- WHAT? a zombie apocalypse au? yeah. because @zaffrenotes requested it and now it’s a thing. and like, i’m so glad it’s a thing because it’s so different from anything i’ve ever done, and I love the challenge. It can get pretty dreary at times, but my goal with this series is to show that love prevails even at the end of the world. It’s also giving me a really fun chance to shed some light on the bad ass ladies of the ES crew. Meech is queen in this series, with Kara, Estela and Zahra literally right behind her. girl. power. 

time to love on yourselves: @sleepwalkingelite @ooo-barff-ooo @endlessly-searching-for-you @jovialyouthmusic @mind-reader1 @agent-bossypants 

#tag game #creator tag #happy new year #2018 top 5 #fanfiction #choices fanfiction #drake x claire #jake x kara