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#trr appreciation week
sfb123 · 11 months
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Hands Down - Prologue
Pairing: Liam x Riley
All characters belong to Pixelberry
Summary: Can Liam and Riley still find their way to each other despite Riley turning down Maxwell's invitation to Cordonia?
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,945
Song Inspiration: Hands Down - Dashboard Confessional
A/N: I am participating in @kingliamappreciationweek Day 5 (Friendships/Relationships/AU, all of which apply to this prologue), as well as @choicesflashfics Week 29, "That's all we/they are now. A memory. A faded picture. A failed potential." It will appear in bold below.
A/N 2: It's been a minute since I've posted anything, let alone started a new series. I've had bits and pieces of this story forever, but could never figure out how to put it all together. Then my aunt died (IYKYK), and I've been working on this ever since.
A/N 3: Thank you to those of you that I have been bombarding with ideas, snippets, and complaints. They're still going to be coming, probably now more than ever. But I appreciate you listening and humoring me. Especially @txemrn for looking over this prologue and making sure it was okay.
Tagging my usuals, if you'd like to be added or removed just let me know!
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Liam was in a daze as he returned to his hotel suite, still thinking about her. They had only spent a couple of hours together, but it was all Liam needed to know that he was destined for so much more with Riley Brooks. 
He fell back onto the couch and pulled out his phone, texting Maxwell to see if he was still up, and if he would join Liam in his room. He was, and he would. 
While he had his phone in his hand, he opened his camera roll and looked fondly at the picture that they had taken together. Liam told her that it was because he wanted to remember his trip to the Statue of Liberty, but more than that, it was because he wanted to remember her. Not that she wasn’t permanently imprinted on his mind the second they locked eyes, but he wanted to have a photo of her, to have tangible proof that she wasn’t a dream. 
A knock at the door pulled Liam’s attention away from his screen. He stood, returning his phone to his pocket as he answered to find Maxwell grinning on the other side. 
“Well well well. Have fun, your highness?” His friends crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe.
Liam chuckled, he couldn’t help it. “More than you know. Please, come in.” He moved aside and motioned toward the sitting area. 
“Soooooo… tell me everything. You seemed pretty smitten, I’ve never seen you like that before!” 
“Maxwell, I’ve never felt like that before. She’s incredible. I’ve never felt more carefree, more happy.” Liam sighed at the memories of his evening. “That’s why I need your help.” 
Maxwell’s head tilted in confusion. “Me? What can I do?”
“Ramsford doesn’t have a sponsor for the social season, correct?” Maxwell nodded slowly, still not sure where this was going. “I want you to sponsor Riley, to bring her to Cordonia.”
“Liam… are you sure? I mean we’re not prepared for that. We weren’t expecting to sponsor anyone.” Maxwell hesitated. He wanted his friend to be happy, but he also knew his family’s financial state, and he wasn’t sure they would be able to support a sponsee. 
“Maxwell, I know your house has been having some… difficulties financially since your father took ill. I would be more than happy to pay for anything she needs. Discreetly, of course.” 
Maxwell studied Liam’s expression, he had never seen his friend like this before. The textbook definition of stoicism, the young prince was never one to show his emotions so openly. But now? He could see the desperation, the need clear as day on his friends face. 
“You really have it bad for her, don’t you?” 
“More than I ever thought possible.” Liam answered. 
“I’ll find her tomorrow morning before I head back.” He patted his friend on the shoulder. 
***
Liam stood in the receiving line greeting the suitors one by one. It was the first night of his social season, but all he could think about was her. She was all he had been able to think about since the night before. 
I hope she had a safe trip. 
She’s going to look so beautiful. 
I wonder if she’s been thinking of me the way I’ve been thinking of her. 
I need to move through this line faster. She’s in it somewhere, I need to see her again. 
Before long, the final suitor dipped into a courtesy and made her way back to the party. Liam looked around the room. Perhaps she had just gotten caught up in something and didn’t make it to the receiving line in time. 
“Liam? Is everything alright?” 
He turned around, to respond. “Yes father, I was just taking everything in.”
Constantine chuckled. “Well, enjoy it son. This is all for you. It’s the beginning of a whole new chapter.” 
Liam nodded, looking past his father to the bar where Maxwell was ordering a drink. “Father, if you’ll excuse me for a moment.” He didn’t wait for a response before stepping away. 
“Maxwell.” Liam greeted his friend as he stood next to him at the bar. 
“Oh, Liam. Hey!” Maxwell shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “Happy social season!” He held up his drink, smiling awkwardly. 
“Where is she?” Liam asked, anxious to see her again.
“Riley?” Maxwell asked, trying to buy as much time as he could. Dreading having to deliver the news. “She… well, she’s not here.” 
“Why not? It’s the first event of the season, is she running late?” Liam began rambling, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach. “Was there an issue getting her a gown? I could…” 
“Liam,” Maxwell interrupted. “She’s not here as in, she’s not in Cordonia. She didn’t come.” 
“What… why?”
That Morning
“Riley!” Maxwell jogged up to the familiar figure as she unlocked the door of the bar. 
She turned to face him as the door opened. “Oh hey, Maxwell, right? Did you forget something last night?” 
“No, I actually had a proposition for you.” Riley furrowed her brows. “Do you have a minute to talk?” 
“Sure, come in. We don’t open for another hour, so I can spare a few.” She walked into the building, and he followed behind. 
As she approached the bar, she pulled down one of the stools and signaled for him to sit. He took a seat and she stepped behind the bar, grabbing an apron and tying it around her waist. 
“So, you and Liam seemed to hit it off last night.” Maxwell said, wanting to gauge Riley’s take on the evening. He wanted to make sure Liam didn’t misinterpret, or misunderstand her side of the outing. 
A slow smile spread across Riley’s face, the same one Liam had on his the night before. That’s when he knew the feeling was very mutual. 
“We did. I’ve never met anyone like him before. Hell, I didn’t think guys like him existed in real life. I hope whoever wins that social season realizes how lucky they are.” She said wistfully.
Maxwell grinned, this was going better than he had hoped. “What if you were the one to win it?” 
“Ha-ha, yeah right.” She replied, shaking her head and turning to empty the dishwasher. 
“No, I’m serious.” He assured her. “Each noble house sponsors a suitor. Since we don’t have any sisters we can pick whoever we want. And I pick you!” 
Riley froze and turned back around looking at Maxwell with a shocked expression. “You,” she pointed at him. “Want me,” she turned her finger to point at herself. “To come with you to a county I only just found out about like twelve hours ago, to join some fancy royal version of The Bachelor to try to marry a prince?” 
“I wasn’t going to word it quite like that, but more or less.” He shrugged. 
“But… why me?” 
“Riley, Liam couldn’t stop talking about you. He was so happy last night. Happier than I’ve ever seen him, and we’ve known each other forever. His life is full of meetings, and stuffy dinners, and boring things he does because it’s his duty. He gets to break away and have fun sometimes, but those times are getting less and less now that he’s ramping up to become King. He’s such a good person, he puts everyone else ahead of himself. He deserves to be the kind of happy you make him all the time.” 
Riley was silent, examining Maxwell’s expression. He seemed to be sincere. “Maxwell, that’s really sweet of you. Liam’s lucky to have a friend like you looking out for him.” She started. “But be realistic, even if I came with you, I’d have to quit both of my jobs and put school on hold. Basically quit my life to travel halfway across the world for the chance to be with Liam. It wouldn’t even be a guarantee.” 
“He asked me to sponsor you!” Maxwell blurted out. 
Riley’s breath caught in her throat, she hadn’t been expecting that. “But why? He doesn’t even know me.” 
“He knows enough to believe that there could be something between you two.” 
She blinked back the tears that had started to rise. She felt it too, but it was a major risk. Riley Brooks didn’t take risks. “Yeah, but even if I did come with you, that doesn’t mean anything. He told me about the social season, it’s not like he’s going to be able to just send the other girls home the second he sees me. Everyone gets a say, and I'm a nobody from America. I know nothing about your country. I don’t know about your customs. Hell, I don’t even like fancy foods, I’d probably make a fool of myself and be laughed out of the country at the first dinner.” 
“But Riley…”
“Maxwell,” She reached across the bar, placing her hand over his. “You’re such a good friend to come here for him. But my answer is no. Maybe if we were in a different time, or a different place, but we’re here. These are the cards we were dealt, our lives are just too different for it to work.” She swallowed over the lump in her throat. “I need to get things set up to open. Have a safe trip back.” She turned and walked to the back, leaving Maxwell alone. 
“I’m so sorry Liam. I tried, I really did.” Maxwell said sympathetically. He could see the pain in his friend’s eyes, despite his attempts to remain composed. “I don’t know if it helps or hurts, but she had the same dreamy look on her face when she talked about you that you had when you talked about her. Everything you felt last night, she felt it too.” 
Liam cleared his throat, “Thank you Maxwell. It was a longshot, but I’m very grateful to you for trying. If you’ll excuse me.” He nodded solemnly to his friend before walking away, moving to the double doors that lead to the balcony. 
He stepped outside and breathed a sigh of relief that he was alone. He approached the balustrade, leaning his forearms against it as he gazed out to the garden maze. He thought about Riley, what she was doing right now, if she missed him as much as he missed her. 
Perhaps he had just gotten caught up in the magic of the evening, he had overromanticized their connection. He took his phone out of his pocket and pulled up their picture. He examined their faces, they both looked so happy. He placed his thumb and index finger on the screen, dragging them apart to zoom in on her face. He was trained to read people, and everything about her, both in that moment, and in the photo, told him that she had been feeling exactly what he had been. Even Maxwell had noticed it the next day when he went to talk to her. 
It just hadn’t been enough. 
“That's all we are now. A memory. A faded picture. A failed potential.” He lamented as he continued to stare down at the picture, remembering their night together. 
“Liam.” His father’s short tone startled him so much that he nearly dropped his phone off of the balcony. 
“Father,” he turned, discreetly returning his device to his pocket. 
“What are you doing out here by yourself? You should be in there spending time with your suitors. The season is going to go by quickly, you need to take every opportunity to get to know your potential brides.” 
“Yes father.” Liam closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to get Riley out of his mind. 
**********
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txemrn · 11 months
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Book: TRR/TRH (events actually occur in TRH Book 1)
Pairing: Liam x MC (Riley); Bertrand x Savannah
Word Count: ~2500
Warning: innuendos; a little language; fluffiness
A/N: I usually enjoy writing fairly angsty TRR material, but when I started gearing up for this past week's @kingliamappreciationweek, I decided I really wanted to write something new that wasn't so dramatic. So, I started thinking about how Liam is a history buff... and if y'all don't know this by now, I'm from Texas, and the thought of that tall glass of water knowing about my home state's history...whew... Give me a moment... This is pure silliness. It's a re-write of Bertrand's bachelor party/Savannah's bachelorette party, and it's just... silly. It does not follow canon very well. But, I hope you still enjoy it! Happy KLAW 2023, friends!
A/N 2: This is my submission for @choicesflashfics week 30! I will be using prompt 3: "That's how the story goes." It will be in bold.
A/N 3: These characters and some of the plot belong to our dear friends Pixelberry. This was not truly pre-read or beta'd. Please excuse my errors.
~👑~
"Alright, lil' ladies with the beautiful bride-to-be!" A burly bartender with a thick drawl and matching beard comes out from behind the counter, making his way to Savannah Walker's bachelorette party.  Delivering a tray of golden caramel-colored shots, he piles each one high with decadent whipped cream. "Here ya go: six blow job shots."
Hana spews out her cocktail, covering her mouth with rosy cheeks.
"Mon dieu! Did–did he just say–"
"Like you don't know what that is, Kiara," Olivia snorts. "Drink up, poufiasse."
Savannah, Madeleine, and Riley cover their giggles, leaning into one another as they take their drinks.
"Wait," Hana holds up her hands as they prepare to toast their third round of shots. "Where's Penelope?"
"Oh, I'm here! I'm here!" She runs up, out of breath, her short hair and denim dress completely drenched.
"What on earth happened to you?" Riley starts grabbing napkins.
"I was checking in with my dog sitter, but the reception here is awful. Plus, it's raining like cats and dogs out—oooooo!" Penelope's eyes beam at the sight of the shots. "What are these?" She leans down to sniff before humming in approval.
"Blow jobs," Olivia smirks.
"Oh!" Penelope nods with curious fascination. "Leo said that about my lips one time–"
"He said what?" Madeleine raises an eyebrow.
"I know, I didn't understand what he meant either."
"No, that's not–nevermind."
"Hold up." Riley raises her hands to silence everyone before turning to Penelope. "Raining like cats and dogs?" She grimaces, glancing at Savannah. "I hope the guys are alright–"
"Gunther!" 
The sudden boisterous voice of Drake Walker echoes through the dive bar, the doors swinging loudly, clapping up against the wooden walls. The large bartender turns, then brightens when he sees his old-time customer and friend coming into his establishment. 
"Whiskers, is that you?"
The girls quietly glare at one another, mouthing the word 'whiskers.'  
The two men grab each other's hands in a shake before pulling into a brotherly hug. Liam, Bertrand and Maxwell file in through the door, shaking droplets from their wet clothes.
"You guys!" Riley jumps up to greet her husband. 
Savannah follows behind, wrapping her arms around Bertrand before brushing a kiss against his lips. "What are y'all doing here?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Maxwell chuckles, throwing his thumb behind his shoulder.
"The campgrounds were rained out," Liam explains, combing his wife's hair behind her ear. "We thought we could stick it out as long as the creek didn't rise too high. But then," he shakes his head, chuckling, "the tents flooded. The truck almost got stuck in the mud."
"Our clothes and shoes are airing out back at the house," Bertrand states, watching his bride fix his wet hair.
"Wow," Olivia snickers, "so much for roughing it for your bachelor party, huh, Beaumont?"
"I beg your pardon," Bertrand stiffens in annoyance, "we almost died out there, duchess."
"It's water."
"Centimeters upon centimeters–"
"Imagine meters of it. Frozen–"
"Well," Riley interjects the budding feud, "I, for one, am happy you guys are out of the nasty weather." She holds her hand up to the bartender, "first round on the crown!" 
"I like the sound of that," Maxwell chuckles.
"'First round on the crown'?" Liam whispers in his wife's ear, humored.
Riley scrunches up her nose, a mischievous grin crawling across her lips. "What can I say?" She giggles, slinking an arm around her husband’s waist. "I've been a queen for over a month, and I haven’t declared anything yet." She turns to her friends. "Let them drink booze!" She glances back at Liam, who's shaking his head at his tipsy wife. "What? I was channeling my inner Marie Antoinette."
"I… caught the reference," he narrows his eyes, gently placing a grip around Riley's neck. "I hope she’s not the inspiration of your own reign," he squeezes his fingers playfully, lowering his voice into a growl. "I'd hate for you to end up like her."
"You're not convincing me otherwise with your hand around my throat, my king." They knowingly snicker to one another, sharing a kiss.
"Okay, you newlyweds," Olivia snickers, rolling her eyes before turning to Drake. "So, um, Whiskers?"
He crosses his arms. "Yes…Red?" He collects a tray of glasses and a fifth of whiskey from Gunther to bring to the table.
"Curious minds want to know about this nickname."
"Awww, you’re thinking about me, Red?" She scoffs as he purposely bumps into her shoulder. "Maybe you'd rather a demonstration of why they call me Whiskers–"
"Drake Elmer!" Savannah scolds. "You're disgusting." She glances to the ladies. "Only Gunther calls him that, and the only reason he calls him that is because of Dad."
"Dad had a rule," Drake air quotes, "that I couldn't taste whiskey until I had whiskers." He nods towards the bartender, "Gunther there served me my first whiskey right after Dad's funeral–"
"Drakey!"  The syrupy voice of Savannah's ex-boyfriend bellows from across the room. "And he brought his royal round up!" The broad-shouldered red-head gives a curt bow, removing his Stetson as he notices Liam, switching to a British accent. "Your majesty."
Liam nods cordially before casually turning towards Riley. "What is it with you Americans thinking everyone in Europe talks with that accent?" Riley giggles under her breath, pinching her husband teasingly.
"Bert!" Chuck opens up his arms, pulling the duke into a tight, bear hug. "How's our groom? Come down here to flex your trivia knowledge?"
"Trivia?" Maxwell questions.
A sudden jolt of excitement hits Drake, his eyes widening as he looks to Gunther. "Is that tonight?"
"You bet yer' asses, Whiskers. $250 cash prize and a bottle of Jack to share."
"Whatd'ya say, Drakey? For old time's sake?" Chuck holds out his hand. Without giving it much thought, Drake clasps Chuck's calloused hand, pulling him into a quick hug. The men begin to hoot and grunt, clapping as they turn to join the rest of Chuck's friends in the corner.
But then Chuck stops, spinning on his heel. He glares at Bertrand before fixing a charming smirk to his mouth. "Where are my manners? Bert, the team is full, or else I'd invite you to join–"
"That's–" Bertrand clears his throat, "--quite alright, I assure you–"
"I mean," Chuck motions to Liam and Maxwell, "unless y'all wanted to make your own team." He glances over his shoulder, “Gunther, what’s tonight’s theme?
"Texas history, fellas," Gunther announces. "Trivia about the greatest fucking country in the world. Texas."
"Ahh. See?" Chuck swings out his arms, shrugging. "That’s how the story goes. Y'all better sit this one out."  With the deep clack of his cowboy boots, he adjusts his belt buckle before slowly strutting back to his seat. 
Seeing the defeat in his face, Savannah runs a hand across Bertrand's chest before giving him a sweet kiss on the cheek. "Don't worry about it, hun," she softly croons, "that's not even your idea of fun anyway."
Bertrand grows rigid. "What do you mean? I like to have fun–"
"Of course, B, just… in other… ways–"
"I," he pulls away from his fiancée, pressing his finger into his chest, "am… the epitome of fun–"
"You're right, but–"
"I'm a crate full of apes!"
Riley looks over her shoulder to Liam, whispering, "Does he know that it's a barrel full of–?"
"Shhh," Liam softly hushes, "just let him go."
"You there!" Bertrand shouts to Gunther, causing everyone to freeze. "We would like to play."
"Uh, Bertrand? A word." Maxwell motions for his brother to join him as he stumbles over to Liam. "Are you crazy?" He whisper shouts. "These people already enjoy making fun of us. Why do you want to do this?" 
"It's the principle of it all," Bertrand grows serious.
Maxwell sighs. "What do you think, Li?"
Liam looks up at Bertrand whose gaze is now attentive to Savannah. She laughs at something Kiara says, causing Bertrand's demeanor to slump a little more, as if each second with her reminds him he's not worthy of her.
Liam gets that.
"I think we should do it."
"See, Bertrand? Even Li–wait, what?" Maxwell's jaw drops. "You think this is a good idea?"
"It's just a game, right?" Liam winks handsomely. "Besides, I think Bertrand needs this."
"But Li… Texas trivia? Those guys reek of BBQ, football and leather."
“And we have survived how many secret coups attacks? Liam shrugs before patting the younger Beaumont on the back. "This could be fun."
Liam, Bertrand and Maxwell settle at a bar top table near four other teams, including Chuck and Drake's group.  As Gunther passes out electronic buzzers, he explains the rules. Chuck rubs his hands together in cocky delight as Bertrand wipes his brow with small drink napkins.
"Alright! Is everybody ready?" Gunther announces over a karaoke machine microphone. "Let's begin. When is Texas Independence Day?"
Chuck buzzes in with a proud, sarcastic snicker. "March 2nd."
"Correct!"
"Ahh, snaps, you guys," Maxwell hangs his head in his hands. "This was a bad idea."
"It's only been one question," Liam encourages.
"And we're already losing!" Maxwell whines, covering his eyes. 
"Next question. Before her independence, Texas was governed by how many different nations?"
Liam hits the buzzer, turning to an unsuspecting Bertrand. "Psst… how many forks are in the traditional Cordonian place setting?"
Bertrand scoffs. "Six!" He barks out loud before realizing everyone is silent, staring at him.
"Correct!"
"Huh?" Maxwell looks up, a smile tugging at his lips.
"Way to go, Bertrand!" Riley and Savannah cheer as the other ladies clap and whistle.
"Alright," Gunther starts, "next question…"
The trivia night continues, back and forth, question for question. The other teams at the bar had opportunities to answer, but overall, Chuck and Drake's team remained in the lead.
But not by much.
The men from Cordonia gave them quite a run for their money, thanks to Liam and his wealth of knowledge. But although Liam knows the majority of the answers, he is yet to speak for the team; rather, he turns to Bertrand each time after hitting the buzzer, prompting him with a different question that possesses the same answer.
"Okay, folks," the bartender announces, "this is the last question. If this team," Gunther points to Bertrand, Liam and Maxwell, "chimes in and gets it right, it will tie the game, sending us into sudden death." The bar fills with cheers, patrons shouting with excitement and pounding their fists on the tables. "Here we go. The Texas Revolution started in what year?"
There's a slight hesitation, but finally Liam turns to Bertrand and states, "The ending of the Bavarian Regency of Greece." Bertrand furrows his eyebrows, but Liam gives him a reassuring nod as he hits the buzzer.
He clears his throat. "1835?"
Everyone freezes, a hush falling over the bar in anxious anticipation.
"Folks? We've got ourselves a tied game!"
Bertrand exhales heavily, closing his eyes. Liam pats him on the back while Maxwell cheers, tugging on his brother's shoulder.  The entire bar is in a fuss as Chuck and Drake stare confusingly at each other. Gunther gets back on the mic, and explains the sudden death round, which requires for each team to choose one member to represent them.
"You've got this, Li," Maxwell applauds, Bertrand smiling and nodding.
"I think… Bertrand should take this."
"Pardon my insolence, sir, but I do not find that to be a wise decision," Bertrand argues.
"I agree with my brother, Li," Maxwell nods, "you knew all those answers–"
"But Bertrand scored us those points," Liam counters, "he needs to put up a fight until the game is over. It's the principle, remember?"  
Hearing Liam repeat his words, Bertrand grins, courage blooming in his chest. He looks to Savannah who is clapping, mouthing the words 'I'm so proud of you.' 
"I'll do it."
Bertrand and Chuck step forward for the sudden death round, peering into each other's eyes. "Are we ready, gentlemen?" Gunther asks. Both men shake their heads yes, their gazes not leaving each other. "Let the best man win."
For a split second, Bertrand glances at his fiancée, and realizes he might not be the best man, but to her, he is. And no matter what, he's already won.
"Here's the question: made popular by an Alamo hero, this portable weapon that can kill and butcher game. Name the weapon–"
Chuck buzzes in. "The Swiss army knife." He smiles brightly, pulling out his own pocket blade and twirling it in victory.
Bertrand turns back to Liam and Maxwell, shaking his head. Maxwell mouths, 'that's okay! You did your best!' Bertand shakes his head more adamantly, but now he’s starting to grin.
"Actually," the bartender starts, "that’s incorrect, Chuck." Gunther turns towards Bertrand. "Do you have an answer, my foreign friend?"
Bertrand smirks. "You are referring to the Bowie knife."
A stillness hushes the crowd; Savannah and Riley anxiously wait, hands clasped with bated breath.
"That… is correct!"
The entire room erupts with shouts of praise and earth-shaking applause.  Several men remove their ten-gallon hats to whoop in honor of the winner, the women of the bachelorette party squealing in glee.
Drake shakes Bertrand's hand before pulling him into an endearing hug. Liam and Maxwell both clap the duke on the back in congratulations. Savannah quickly cuts in, throwing her arms around her fiancé as her lips crash into his. Gunther comes over with the prize, and shakes Liam's hand. Maxwell snatches the bottle of Jack and the cash, and holds it over his head like a trophy.  More shots and drinks are ordered, the night carrying on into a wild honky-tonk of a dance party.
Riley finds Liam, roping her arms around his neck as he secures his large hands to her waist.
"I'm so proud of you, partner," Riley attempts a drawl. Liam laughs, kissing her forehead as they begin to sway to the slow country beat. "Bertrand said that you actually never gave him any answers; you just… asked him questions that had the same answer"
Liam nods slowly, "Yep."
"Why?"
"Oh, my queen," he beams looking down at her, "it's the principle."
"The principle?" She cocks an eyebrow.
"A man wants to win a woman's heart."
"But Savannah loves him–"
"That's not the point," Liam counters. "A man wants to win her over… and over and over again. If I gave him the answers, that would've cheated him out of proving to her and to himself that he's worthy of her."
"Do you ever feel that way about me?" She croons.
A rosy hue swirls across Liam's cheeks. "More than you realize."
Riley presses a tender kiss to her husband’s chin before continuing their dance. "But… I gotta ask. When did you become so smart about Texas history?"
Liam chuckles. "I've been best friends with Drake Walker since I was 8 years old. We used to do our studies together, and… he was terrible at history."
"So?"
"So?" Liam stifles his toothy grin, licking his bottom lip. "Who do you think did his Texas history homework?"
"William Rys!"
~👑~
Thank you so much for your support! Every like, comment and reblog means the world to me! 🖤
~👑~
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harleybeaumont · 1 year
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Thirsty pics of my FC for Maxwell - Xavier Serrano!
I was going to make a moodboard but I just can't crop these puppies!
@maxwell-beaumont-appreciation
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angelasscribbles · 6 months
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Thro(n)es of Passion Part 2: A Bad Romance One-Shot
Series: Bad Romance Continues
Original Series: Bad Romance
Fandom: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir
Pairing for this chapter: Riley x Max x Liam, Riley x Drake
Rating: NSFW 🍋🍋🍋
Warnings for this chapter: Lemons, sexually explicit
Word Count: 3,323 
I almost called it a two-shot, but these are not two distinct chapters, so really it's a one-shot in two parts. If that even makes sense. You can find part one here.
My other stuff: Master List.
Also, if you want to see the full piece of the below artwork by the amazing @rosefuckinggenius, please click here.
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Drake was the last one through the bedroom door. His eyes swept around the room, taking in his lover and his two best friends. All four of them were naked. Max was the only one still completely hard. His eyes inadvertently dipped down to take it in, flushing when Max noticed.
“Like what you see?” Max sauntered over to Drake and let his gaze drift across his body, as he reached a hand out toward him, “Because I sure do…”
“Stop it, Beaumont!” Drake slapped at the other man’s hand as he stepped away from him, “I didn’t mean to look! It was just natural curiosity, that’s all!”
“So, you always check out other men’s packages?” Max raised his eyebrows.
“Have you checked out my package?” Liam asked, a little miffed that it was Max Drake had ogled.
“What?” Drake’s eyes flicked to his best friend’s face as he struggled not to let his eyes drift down, “No, of course not! I mean, I’ve seen it…”
“And?
“And what?” Drake snapped, embarrassment heating his cheeks, “Are you saying you’ve never checked me out in the shower?”
It was Liam’s turn to flush, “Let’s drop this whole conversation.”
“Gladly!”
Max pouted, “But-“
“Max, that’s enough!” Riley grabbed him by the collar and pulled him away from Drake.
He stumbled into her, “Yes my queen, but can I see his naked ass, just this once?” He hadn’t gotten a good enough peek when they were in the living room.
Riley tapped her lips as her eyes flicked back and forth between the two men.
Drake shook his head, “You’re not seriously considering-“
She twirled her fingers in the air, “Turn around, please.”
“Seriously?” Drake looked to Liam for help but found none. “Fine,” he huffed as he spun to give everyone in the room a clear view of his backside, “The shit I do for you, woman. Happy?”
“Yes,” Max breathed out, then to Riley, “Can I touch it?”
“No!” Drake spun back to face them, “Absolutely not!”
Max turned pleading eyes to Riley.
“No, Max. He does not consent to that.”
“Fine,” Max turned back to Drake with a grin, “But if you ever decide you want to experiment a little, I’ll let you touch mine.”
“Shut the fuck up, Max,” Drake snarled as the memory of Max on his knees in front of Liam sprung unbidden into his mind’s eyes. He may have slid his gaze sideways once or twice, just out of curiosity.
“Excuse me,” Liam interrupted, “Can we get back to the sex now?” Watching Max check Drake out had him at half-mast again.
“Yes, please,” Drake agreed, “If everyone is done staring at my ass.”
Riley pushed past Liam and Max to stand in front of Drake.
Liam reached for her, and missed, as she dodged around him, “What are you doing?”              
“Keeping myself between you two deviants and the straight boy!”
“Deviants, are we?”
“Yes!”
Liam moved quickly. He was suddenly pressed up against her back, one hand pulling her head backward by the hair, the other pinning her arm behind her back as he whispered roughly, “You like it when I’m deviant!”
She sucked in a hiss of pleasure.
Drake’s eyes tracked the movement. He struggled to maintain his composure as he fought against every instinct he had not to rip Liam’s hands from her body, and possibly break one. Not because he was touching her in a sexual way, but because he was touching her in an aggressive way.        
She didn’t seem to mind though.
He had not been aware she was into that. He wondered if she wanted that from him. He’d ask her later. He hoped not. He wasn’t sure he was capable of it.
He had no problem taking control during sex, and he had no issue with things getting a little rough, but even when he led, she was really in charge. Topping from the bottom. And when pain was inflicted, it was inflicted by her. He wasn’t into some of the stuff Max was (he’d seen their toys), but he liked the way her teeth felt embedded in his skin, the sting of her nails biting into his back and the sharp shock when she yanked his hair hard.
Her comfort, and her pleasure, were always the goal. Taking her to the edge of the abyss and then pushing her over it was his favorite thing to do.
Her gaze fell on him as Liam attacked the side of her neck, her hair still gathered in his fist. She took in his agitation as their eyes met. “What’s wrong?” She breathed out as she fought to keep her attention from being completely subverted by the things Liam’s mouth was doing to her.    
He shook his head, “I can’t turn it off,” he said in reference to the protectiveness she brought out in him. When it came to safeguarding those he loved, he was ruthless, brutal, and methodical. He might kill with impunity, but when it came to her….there wasn’t an inch of him that was willing or able to do her harm—even the kind of harm she apparently liked.
She understood immediately, “Liam, stop.”
“Why? What’s wrong?” He released her and looked around in bewilderment.
“Nothing…just….” She spun to face him, pinching his cheeks between her fingers, “I think you’re going to need to let me take charge tonight. For Drake.”
“Drake?” he repeated in bemusement, his lust-clouded brain spinning to catch up.
Riley brought her lips to his ear and whispered, “The protective guard thing…”
Liam’s eyes darted to Drake's face as his fingers slowly untangled from her hair, “Okay….” He regarded his best friend, taking in the scowl, the clenched fists….. the still naked body…he swallowed as his gaze roved over the sculpted muscles and the hard lines of his chest.
“My eyes are up here Your Majesty,” Drake shook his head in amused disbelief, but the tension had gone out of the moment. At least the non-sexual tension. He reached out and pulled Riley into his body, “Maybe I should handle her, you’ve got Max right there.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Liam pressed himself up against her backside again, but gently this time, “It’s definitely my turn.”
“Hey!” Max shot Liam a pout before turning to grin at Drake, “I can keep you company while they’re busy if you want.”
“Not gonna happen, Max.”
Liam gestured for Max to come closer, “I’m not leaving you out, love. I’m simply saying that our queen requested all three of us tonight and only one of us has complied thus far.”
“Hm, you make a fair point,” Max added himself to the tangle of bodies, pressing his erection into Liam’s ass as he laid a flurry of kisses along his neck and back.
“This is fun,” Riley giggled, Drake pressed against her from the front, Liam from the back. She drew Drake into a heated kiss and then told him, “But Liam’s right. I’m turning around now, but don’t you go anywhere!”
Riley spun in their arms, so she was facing Liam and Max. “Keep doing whatever you want back there,” she told him. He complied by running his fingers gently through her hair and then moving it to the side, giving himself access to her now-exposed neck.
Riley tilted her head to the side with a little moan as Drake’s mouth on her skin sent chills cascading down her spine.
“Don’t forget about us,” Max reminded her.
“Oh, I haven’t!” She kissed Liam first, delighting in the way his mouth hungrily devoured hers while Drake’s lips continued to caress the back of her neck. She tangled her fingers in Max’s hair as he nipped at the sensitive spot just behind Liam’s ear.
When she came up for air, she uttered one word, “Max,” and his head immediately snapped up. Their lips collided over Liam’s shoulder. Their tongues danced against each other as Liam drew soft lines along the exposed flesh just below her collarbone with his.
She let herself get lost in the moment, the sensations the three of them provoked in her, the titillation of having them all touching her at the same time. She was undeniably wet again. Her entire body was on fire as six hands and three tongues sent promises of ecstasy sparking through her.
A pair of strong arms wrapped around her body, sweeping her off her feet. She cracked her eyes open to see who it was. Liam stared down at her with a smolder so intense it turned her insides to liquid. She couldn’t have spoken at that moment if her life depended on it.
Drake watched as Liam laid her on the bed, spread her legs apart, and lowered himself between them. Max climbed onto the bed next to him and added his tongue to the equation so that they were simultaneously both licking Riley and kissing each other, their tongues twirling together in a mesmerizing dance that they had clearly done before.
Fuck. Why was that so hot? Drake’s hand wrapped around himself and started moving slowly up and down as he watched, his eyes moving from what Liam and Max were doing to her breasts as her squirming caused them to jiggle, to her face which was contorted in bliss. His eyes were locked on her face when she exploded over the summit, her cries of pleasure filling the room as her body bucked violently upward. His hand started moving faster, pumping harder, but there was no way he was going to finish that way. Not with her right there.
Liam stood up with a satisfied grin as he wiped his arm across his mouth. Pulling her by both legs to the edge of the bed, he sank himself inside her and began to thrust. He watched her face as he pounded into her, moving closer to the edge himself. He spared a glance at Max, then at Drake, both of whom were watching him fuck Riley while pleasuring themselves.
Shit! He was going to bust too soon if he wasn’t careful.
He had already known what Max looked like in the throes of passion. He was fucking beautiful with his eyes glazed and his breath coming in short jagged little gasps. But he’d never seen Drake that way before. Drake, with his head thrown back, eyes half closed, a flush covering his features, his hand fisted tightly around his cock as the muscles in his arm rippled with movement, was just as beautiful.
He pulled out of her with great effort and took a step back. “Max,” he managed to pant out, “I want you to finish inside her.”
Max didn’t have to be told twice. He was rock hard, and his dick was coated with precum. Liam’s voice was low, rough, and demanding, sending electricity thrilling through him. He positioned himself in front of Riley but before he could move, Liam’s hands grasped him roughly by the hips, holding him in place as he ordered him to stand still. Max did as he was commanded, freezing in place as Liam probed and explored his body, his fingers playing at his hole as he spread the lube on, his hand wrapping around his cock and squeezing it, jerking it a few times before rubbing it around Riley’s entrance.
Liam’s voice was rough in his ear, “Okay, you can fuck her now. I’m going to fuck you at the same time. Do you understand?”
Max felt his knees go weak and he struggled to remain upright as he slid himself into Riley. He couldn’t speak, so he just nodded.
“Make her cum,” Liam ordered.
Max moved in and out of her as his fingers played at her center, coaxing another orgasm from her. The moment her body arched off the mattress, Liam entered him from behind, slamming into him.
Drake watched in fascination as the three of them moved as one, Liam’s thrusts pushing Max forward to thrust into Riley. The strangled moans of pleasure spilling out of her were almost too much for him, even from the sidelines. Then she turned her head and made direct eye contact with him, and he realized there was no reason for him to be a passive observer. He moved quickly to the bed and climbed up beside her, capturing her lips in a searing kiss before moving his mouth lower to claim a puckered nipple, teasing it between his teeth and flicking it with his tongue.
Max’s gaze darted from Riley’s face to Drake’s as he felt her tighten around him while Liam filled him, hitting the exact right spot with every demanding thrust. “Fuck!” He called out as all the built-up sexual tension coiled tightly inside his body exploded outward, and he collapsed forward as he erupted inside her.
Riley and Max crying out at the same time was it for Liam. Pushing himself deep inside of his lover, he exploded as well. Buried in Max while Max was buried in Riley was the closest he could come to being inside them both at the same time and it never failed to propel him to heights of euphoria unequaled by any other sex act he had ever experienced.
Drake had to move out of the way to avoid Max falling onto him as he collapsed onto Riley. Liam dropped his body onto Max, pinning him between his two lovers.
Max certainly didn’t mind. Riley underneath him and Liam on top of him was the perfect ending to the night as far as he was concerned.
Liam finally pulled out and stepped back. He leaned forward and lifted Max off Riley, laying him on the bed next to her and drawing him into his body, holding him as he ran his fingers through his hair and murmured in his ear about what a good boy he was.
Riley flipped over onto all fours and crawled toward Drake with a predatory glint in her eyes, “Your turn!”
“I…” His words were cut off in a hiss of pleasure as her lips closed around his cock. He sank both hands into her hair as a guttural groan was ripped from him. He didn’t even care that Max and Liam were right there, watching. He was so on edge from watching everything that had gone before, that he would have proceeded if God himself were in the room.
His grip on her hair tightened as he thrust himself into her mouth. She clamped down as she sucked the soul from his body. She lunged forward as she aggressively forced him to the precipice. They moved together in perfect synchrony as he teetered on the edge for what felt like both an eternity and no time at all before plunging over it. She scooted closer to his body as his cock spewed its payload down her throat.
“Shit…” he breathed out as he watched her lap every last drop from him. He disentangled his fingers from her hair and dropped back onto the bed, “That was fucking intense!”
“It was,” she agreed as she snuggled into his side.
His arm went around her, and he lifted his head to look over at Max and Liam. He’d almost forgotten they were there. Max was tucked under Liam’s arm, nuzzling into his side in much the way Riley was nestled in his own embrace. His eyes met Liam’s and he quickly looked away, letting his head fall back against the mattress. It was a little awkward, but not as awkward as he had imagined. And he had Riley wrapped up in his arms, a place she would stay for the rest of the night, even if Max or Liam moved over to cuddle her from the other side.
It was worth it. He was content. The sex had been amazing, but the intimacy of the immediate aftermath was the best part. He turned his head to smile at her, sweat still plastering his hair to his forehead. She smiled back. He was happy.
Max and Liam did move closer so that the four of them were all pressed together in the center of the double king bed that graced the master bedroom of the royal suite.
No one was ready to sleep yet. Quite giggles and soft whispers spilled through the growing darkness.
Drake’s fingers traced down Riley’s arms as he listened to the other three converse, content just to be there.
“Hey, Drake…”
“What is it Beaumont?”
“Now I know what your face looks like when you cum.”
“Shut up, Max,” he tried for a harsh tone, but couldn’t suppress a smile, “I know what you look like when you suck dick.”
“You lucky bastard,” Max laughed, “I am a master at it.”
“He is,” Liam confirmed.
“What do I look like when I cum?” Max teased, “I bet I look hot, right?”
“Like you don’t know,” Liam laughed, “You literally have a mirror over your bed in Ramsford.”
“As if I can see straight when you’re making me cum.”
“That’s true,” Riley giggled, “His eyes roll back in his head and his toes curl.”
“Okay, I’ve heard enough!” Drake sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, “I’m thinking of having some dessert sent up. Who’s in?”
“Oooh, I am!” Riley sat up as she purred seductively, “Get something we can lick off each other.”
Drake turned back to her in astonishment, “You haven’t had enough yet? How many times did you cum?”
“Four? Five?” She shrugged, “I lost count.”
“I’ve seen her cum as many as eight times in one go round,” Liam interjected, “Might as well make the most of our child-free night.”
“Oh! I know!” Max exclaimed, “Let’s have dessert sent out to the pool so we can go for a late-night swim!”
“That’s…actually not a bad idea,” Drake agreed only halfway surprised. Max did tend to come up with some good ideas and was usually the instigator of most of their more questionable enterprises.
Liam snapped his fingers, “We’ll use the private pool on the west lawn so we can skinny dip if we want to!”
Riley jumped out of bed in excitement, “I’m getting that new bikini you bought me in Paris!”
“You can thank me later,” Liam smirked at the other two men.
Drake called the kitchen while Liam called the head of the King’s guard to clear and secure the area around the pool.
Ten minutes later they were walking through the halls of the palace, talking, laughing, and touching each other. Riley looked from Liam to Max to Drake, each man’s face flushed with happiness. Sometimes it was hard to believe the series of circumstances that had landed her here, but there was no doubt in her mind that fate had been at play the night these three had walked into that dingy dive bar in New York City.
She pushed thoughts of her old life aside as they emerged through a side door and arrived poolside, the Cordonian night air filling her lungs. She was in love; she was safe and protected. She had a child that she adored. She had partners that she adored. She was a literal queen. What more could she possibly want?
She nudged her husband as she watched Max cannonball into the pool while Drake pulled his shirt off and ran after him.
“Yes, love?”
“Let’s make another baby.”
“What? Now?”
Riley laughed, “No, but maybe next year?”
Liam took her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing the back of it before wrapping his arms around her, “I will put a baby in you whenever you want my love.”
“I know.” She sighed in contentment as she laid her head on his shoulder, Drake and Max’s laughter in her ears, Liam’s warmth surrounding her, and the very stars in the sky seemingly within her reach.
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karahalloway · 10 months
Text
Sleepless in New York: Chapter 10 - Darkfall
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Series: TRR
Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)
Synopsis: What if Drake met Harper on the first night of Prince Christian’s New York bachelor party? A stand-alone AU written from Drake's POV.
Masterlist: Sleepless in New York
Chapter Summary: Drake tries to navigate a rough night...
Word Count: 5,300
Rating/Warnings: E (swearing, angst, obsessive-compulsive exercise, sexual fantasy, masturbation)
Chapter theme song:
A/N1: Sorry this took soooo long to get out! As per usual, real life has been exceptionally busy, so I haven't had as much time to write as I'd like to.
A/N2: This is also my slightly belated submission for World Whiskey Day, hosted by @drake-walker-appreciation, and the prompt that this fits with (more or less) is 'The whiskey burns my throat like her absence burns my soul.'
A/N3: I just realised that this kinda (maybe?) qualifies for the @springfeverpitch event that was on this week (Apologies! There are a lot of events on at the moment!) In any case, this would count as domestic x home run I guess 😅
Chapter 10 - Darkfall
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I kick the covers off with an irate growl.
Un-fuckin'-believable...
After the shitshow of a day I've had, I should be running on fumes.
And I am.
Yet for some reason, I’m not able to nod off. Despite the fact that I've been on the go since 6am and have barely gotten any shut-eye the night before.
Because my body’s apparently a sucker for punishment and doesn’t seem to know when to quit. And even though I know I desperately need the recharge, I also know that staying in bed’s gonna achieve nothing 'cept hypertension.
So, swinging my legs out onto the carpet with a tight-set jaw, I reach for my phone.
02:18
I run a heavy hand through my hair.
The hell am I gonna do for the next six hours?
My eyes land almost unwittingly on the ragged shirt-tail peeking over the edge of the trash can.
I rip my gaze away with gritted teeth.
No. Absolutely fucking not.
It’a bad enough that I walked out on Gale without so much as a half-assed explanation. I ain’t gonna compound my dick-like behaviour by showing up at her door in the middle of the night, demanding to pick up where we left off.
Especially not after everything I've already subjected her to today — getting her fired, burning her in front of her friends, pulling her into a fight, dragging her on a forced route march 'cross town, and then literally ripping the shirt off her back. And, if that isn’t bad enough, I topped off her night by dumping the proverbial clutch on her when I should've been taking her for the ride of her life.
I swallow painfully. No. That ship had definitely sailed...
Which means it’s high time to take my own fuckin' advice and get her — and this entire mess of a day — out of my head.
No excuses.
And since the overpriced mini bar had let me down, I’m down to my only alternative — running myself into the ground.
Pushing myself up with a resigned exhale, I trudge over to my duffle. Reaching in, I extract the exercise shorts and t-shirt that always forms part of my go-bag, no matter where I went. Because you never know when you’re gonna need to blow off some steam. And going for a run’s a damn sight healthier than disappearing down the neck of a bottle. Even if the latter’s a helluva lot more convenient.
Throwing the clothes on, along with some socks and my well-worn trainers, I turn back to the bedside table to grab my phone and gun...
...and catch sight of the shirt again.
Motherfucker.
Jamming the phone and the Sig into my pockets — it always pays be prepared then be left holding your dick when shit inevitably hits the fan — I march over to the bin and yank the accursed thing out.
Scrunching it up, I turn on my heel, and stomp out of the room, snatching the keycard up on the way. Wrenching the door open, I let it bang shut behind me as I head down the corridor.
I cannot catch one goddamn break tonight...
Reaching the lifts, I briefly contemplate calling one. But given that I’m already wound tighter than a two-dollar watch, I know I won’t be able to stand the wait, no matter how brief.
So, I divert instead to the fire exit. Pulling the heavy door open, I throw myself into a jog and take the stairs upwards two at a time.
I guess I could've just as easily gone downstairs. But I don’t trust myself not to wind up at Gale's brownstone again if I hit the streets. Which means that the only place I can conceivably go is to the top-floor gym.
Which — all things considered — is probably the better bet anyway. Because going for a jog in the dead of night around the City That Never Sleeps is a risk not worth taking. And even though Central Park’s less than a block away, it’s not actually an option, given that (a) it’s shut overnight, and (b) it isn’t the best lit, and I don’t particularly feel like getting jumped by a knife wielding yahoo, or twisting an ankle on an uneven path.
Plus, I'd have to be a monumental idiot to even think about leaving Chris unattended again. Not that I expect to him go anywhere at this hour — except maybe all the way with Hayley. But I’m not about to make the same mistake twice in one day.
Christ knows I paid for it hard the first time 'round...
I feel my legs start to burn as I continue to climb relentlessly. But knowing that this is exactly what I need if I’m to have any hope of catching some zzz's tonight, I ignore the discomfort and push myself on.
Arriving on the 25th floor, I pause on the landing to catch my breath. But the short burst of exercise has merely thrown me a second wind. I still have a long way to go if I want to waste myself completely.
So, moving over to the stairwell door, I pull it open and step into the gym. Given the lateness of the hour, there's not a soul in sight, and it's just me and the view.
But there’s one thing I need to take care of first.
Locating the changing rooms, I head inside. And before I can think too much on it, or change my mind, I stride over to the dirty towel hamper and chuck the ruined shirt in...
...and dump a few towels on top of it for good measure.
Dead and buried.
Spinning quickly around, I exit the way I'd come, focusing my attention on the row of TechnoGym treadmills that face out onto the distantly twinkling lights of Harlem in the north, and not on how twisted my guts feel all of a sudden.
Picking a machine, I pull my phone and sidearm out of my pockets and place them onto the console so they won’t bang against my thighs as I ran, but still remained within reach in case I need them.
Taking a deep breath, I step resolutely onto the belt and hit go on a program at random.
The pace starts off sedately, barely faster than a speed walk. Reaching up to the console, I tap the speed up impatiently, not wanting to waste time on a warm-up I don’t need and most definitely don’t want.
I’n here to burn rubber.
The motor kicks into a higher gear, but it's not enough. Even though I’m now at a steady jog, my heart rate's barely above resting and I've yet to break a sweat. Not to mention the fact that my mind’s still fixating on the very thing I need to flush out of my system.
Gale, legs spread and head thrown back, moaning my name...
Raising my hand with a growl, I slap the panel again... and again... and again... until the belt is a blur beneath my feet and I'm pelting it like a demented bat outta hell.
The sudden speed forces my body into overdrive. My chest expands, my focus narrows, and my blood begins to pump in earnest, trying to supply my body with oxygen faster than it was being consumed.
I fall into a breakneck rhythm, limbs pumping to the rapid beat of my breath in a desperate effort to stay on the treadmill.
In... In... In... In... Out... Out... Out... Out...
The minutes and the miles tick past on the screen in front of me, but I barely register the stats. I'm too busy chasing oblivion...
...which remains stubbornly out of reach.
Because even as I push myself to the limit and my lungs start to burn and my muscles start to cramp, I can't escape her. She's still there, hazel-green eyes dancing on the edge of my awareness, the honey scent of her hair tickling my senses like smoke on the breeze.
And even as my vision begins to swim and the relentless pace pushes me to the verge of puking, I don't let myself ease up. Because that would be an admission of defeat and I’m not the type to quite that easy.
Not when there’s so much on the line.
Because beyond the fact that I let myself become consumed by a girl I barely know — an unhealthy and unsustainable hang-up that I need to nip in the bud, pronto — my continued preoccupation also ended up endangering Chris' life tonight.
And that’s inexcusable.
Not only is the guy the heir to a fuckin' throne, but he is my best — and arguably only — friend. And I let him down, both personally and professionally, by allowing myself to get distracted, just because a pretty set of legs had walked by.
And while I somehow managed to salvaged my colossal fuck-up, and we all walked away tonight without any casualties, I probably won’t m be able to pull a miracle like that out of my ass every time.
Nor should I expect to.
Especially not during the social season, when Chris is going to be constantly in the spotlight, shaking hands, being interviewed, always in an exposed setting. All it would take is one moment of distraction, one second of lost focus, for someone to pull a gun, to slip through the crowd, for our worlds to come crashing down.
And I’m not gonna let Chris — my brother — down like that.
I can’t.
So, doubling down, I dig deep and continue to pound the vestiges of my frustrations, my failings, and my regret relentlessly into the treadmill, the hard and fast staccato of my feet against the machine echoing around the otherwise empty space.
I have no clue how long I run for. Minutes? Hours? It makes no difference. Every wheeze feels like my last, every exertion a desperate attempt to break free of the purgatory of mistakes I trapped myself in.
And still I push on. Until I hit the proverbial wall and collapse against it, my vision blurry, my limbs shaking, my clothes drenched.
I stand there for what feels like eternity, feet straddling either side of the machine, the belt still whizzing at breakneck speed beneath me while I cling to the console like a life-line, trying to catch my breath.
And eventually my heart-rate slows, the buzzing in my ears clears, and I regain enough coherence to lift a hand and slap the treadmill off.
Pushing myself up to a standing position as the machine whirls to a stop, I wipe the sweat from my eyes and glance at the screen in front of me.
10 miles. 56 minutes.
I scoff wryly. Well, fuck me if that ain’t a new personal best... Who knew that self-pity could be such a potent motivator...?
Exiting the menus, I grab my stuff and move to step off the machine... only to very narrowly avoid face planting into the floor.
Oh, shit...!
Grabbing the console, I shake my head to try and clear the sudden nausea.
Christ, I feel awful...
My eyes land on the water fountain and I lurch towards it like a drunk out of a bar. Because that’s exactly how I feel like — sluggish, light-headed and stumbling around like a newborn calf. Which is no surprise considering I've just run the best part of half a marathon as if the Devil himself had been after me, having consuming nothing but two bottles of beer beforehand.
Apparently I do hate myself.
Managing to make it to the far wall without any incident — just — I lean over the dispenser to inhale the cool stream of water, nearly making myself choke in the process.
But I know I need to rehydrate myself, otherwise I’m gonna be in a world of pain in a few hours' time. So, after overcoming the initial shock to my system, I force myself to loosen up on the pace and start taking longer and slower gulps.
Having finally satisfied my body's cravings, I let go of the dispenser button to run the back of a trembling hand over my water-soaked mouth.
Sweet Jesus, I’m a mess...
I can’t remember the last time I pushed myself this hard on a workout.
But then I've never felt this way before... Like I’m an idiot, like I missed the pass, like I’m stuck in a maze with no way out.
And even though the hard run had managed to clear my mind, that latent feeling of... something is still there, writhing just beneath the surface, like an unscratchable itch under my skin.
And maybe it'll never go fully away. But I’m not about to give up without putting in a damn good fight.
Pushing myself up, I turn towards the pool. And even though I haven’t brought any swim trunks with me, my feet are already pulling me towards the siren call of the water.
Because if there’s one thing that’a guaranteed to set me right, it’s a full-body dunk.
Arriving at the side of the pool, I peel my sweat-soaked clothes off, leaving only my boxers on for the sake of modesty in case someone happens to walk in.
Taking a breath, I step out over the edge and plunge straight in.
The sting of salt hits my nose — not the same flavour as the Med, but then no pool’s ever gonna compete with that — as the water envelopes me and I let myself sink below the surface.
I hit the bottom and the echoey silence settles like a blanket around me, soothing my senses, taming my pulse.
I've always loved the water. Even before I could walk, I'd make a butt-shuffling beeline towards the end of the beach where the waves crashed onto the shore, unveiling a treasure trove of crabs, seashells and shiny rocks.
Of course, Mom'd been terrified that I'd get swept out to sea, or drown. So, to appease her fear, Dad had started taking me to swim lessons — first at the local therapy pool, but graduating quickly to the higher classes in the lap pool as I learnt to float, hold my breath, and leap off the diving board, all by the age of three.
From there my obsession only grew. I joined the school swim team, the water polo team, and even got certified as a lifeguard over the course of one summer. In short, I spent almost as much time in the water as out of it.
And then Chris introduced me to sailing.
At first I couldn't see the appeal of drifting around the Med on a sofa-sized boat when you could be swimming in it. But I've never been able to say 'no' to my best friend, so when he insisted I join him for a spin around the marina in his new Wayfarer one evening, I'd begrudgingly said yes. And had become instantly hooked. The speed, the technical precision, the feeling of flying over the water — it was all addictive.
Jack Sparrow'd had it right when he'd said that a ship is not just a keel and a hull and a deck and sails. Because even though those things are integral to the make-up of any craft, what a ship — or yacht, or catamaran, or any other vessel — really is, is freedom.
And for a restless 14 year-old, there was nothing more attractive than ditching the world to hang out with your buddy in the middle of the ocean, free of worries or adult supervision, just enjoying the endless view while you fished and talked about nothing in particular.
Of course, being teenagers, we were bound to get ourselves into deep water — quite literally. Which is how we ended up deciding that it'd be a great idea to take out a much larger sloop one evening... only to end up paying for that mistake when a storm decided to roll in out of the blue, catching us off guard and capsizing our craft.
And while that particular misadventure had ended up turning Chris off sailing once and for all, it had made me even more determined to get back out onto the water and obtain my ICC license. Which I did, the following summer.
And even though I no longer have Chris to share my maritime adventures with, my love of sailing — and of being out on the water — never diminished.
Because the sea is — and always has been — my personal haven.
Feeling my lungs start to itch from the lack of oxygen, I reluctantly open my eyes and kick back up to the surface.
But I don't feel like returning to dry land just yet.
So, drawing a quick breath, I stretch myself out and dip into an easy freestyle. Half-a-dozen strokes and I reach the edge of the pool. Diving down, I flip myself around to kick off the wall, resurfacing into a backstroke.
I repeat the pattern for about ten laps, enjoying the rare sense of peace that comes with gliding weightlessly through the water, strokes moving effortlessly in time with my breath.
Eventually, though, I’m forced to call it quits as my body finally runs out of steam and my rhythm starts to falter.
Grabbing onto the edge of the pool, I pause to catch my breath, arms and shoulders tingling from the exertion...
...and I suddenly realise that I'm starving.
Which, all things considered, is hardly surprising. The last time I had anything to eat was at that Midtown stake-house at dinner-time, which was over eight hours ago. And since then I've probably burnt through 800 calories' worth of pure stress, not to mention all the physical exertion I've put myself through. So, my blood sugar levels are shot.
Pulling myself out of the water, I pad over to the other side of the pool to collect my gear.
I briefly contemplate having a shower, but quickly ditch the idea on the basis that (a) I hadn't brought a change of clothes with me, and (b) I can’t trust myself not to go rooting for the ruined shirt that I ditched in the changing rooms earlier.
So, brushing off the worst of the water, I head straight for the lifts.
I’m not expecting to cross paths with anyone at whatever time in the morning it is. And if I do... well, they can suck it up. It's not like I’m walkin' around buck-ass naked.
Arriving back on our booked-out floor, I make my way to my room. Fishing the keycard out of the pocket of my shorts, I let myself in and flick the door closed behind me.
Dropping my exercise kit by my duffle, I locate the 24-hour room service menu and do a quick scan of the options.
A couple of items jump out at me, but knowing that I'll probably have breakfast with the guys in a few hours' time, I don’t want to have anything too heavy.
But then my eyes land on the cheeseburger, and before I can think twice about it, I've reached for the hotel phone and I'm putting the order through.
And even though I tell myself that it's because I never got to finish the one back at the dive bar two nights ago, I know that I'm lying to myself...
...so, I add a bottle of whiskey to the order for good measure.
Because I don’t want to blow up all my hard work by falling back into the same emotional sink hole that I only very narrowly managed to drag myself out of just now. So, I need something to distract myself.
Hanging up, I quickly sort my sweaty clothes out and stow them in the duffle before making my way into the bathroom to have another shower.
Once done, I throw on my jeans and a t-shirt (not bothering with socks or underwear) and flick the wall-mounted TV on to find something to pass the time with while I wait for the food to show up.
Not seeing any movies or series that particularly interest me, I eventually settle on a rerun of an old Pats game...
...but I find my mind wandering.
And it doesn't take long for my treacherous sub-conscious to dig up the very images that have been stalking me all night.
Gale, up in my face out on the club balcony, testing my limits and my sanity with that sassy smile of hers...
Gale, head thrown back and ass pressed up against me as we move to the techno-beat on the crowded dance-floor...
Gale, legs wrapped around me as her nails rake over my skin, fighting to get my shirt off as my tongue invades her mouth...
I groan despite myself, shifting uncontrollably on top of the covers...
...and realise that I've already lost the battle.
Shit.
My eyes land ruefully on the tell-tale tent pole straining the front of my pants.
I huff out a tight exhale.
If there'd been one thing I wanted to avoid tonight, it’s this...
Because I know that as soon as I dip a toe in that particular Rubicon, I’m screwed. And not in a good way.
Because when you've been continuously pushed to the edge, only to be yanked back each and every time from the precipice of release, a plain ol' wank just isn’t gonna do it.
Sure, jacking one out relieved the immediacy of the pent up need. But it’s never gonna hold a candle to the real thing. In part because it’s over in minutes and in part because cumming into your own hand feels about as satisfying as throwing yourself a one-man pity party.
Because sex is a team sport. And trying to run a solo play — when you know what the real thing feels like — is always gonna fall short of expectations. Because when you’re on your own, there’s no one to share the thrill with. To kiss, to tease, to fuck to the limit before letting go so you can finally implode into each other.
Which is why I'd tried my damnedest to exhaust myself so I wouldn't find myself in this situation. At least not until we were back in Cordonia, and I could avail myself of some options...
...'cept now I don’t have a choice.
Not unless I want to greet the bell hop with a raging hard-on...
Because unfortunately for me, my dick has apparently decided that it'd had enough of being baited, and is now gonna bend me over the barrel to get what it wants.
Regardless of the fact that it’s gonna be a massive let-down for both of us.
So, even as I try to shift my focus back to the Pats game — and sideline my ever-growing erection — all I manage to achieve is an even more persistent itch in my pants.
Because despite my resistance, we both know that thanks to the missed opportunity with Gale, chances are good that I’m not gonna find anything resembling decent satisfaction until after the Masquerade Ball.
As even though we'll be arriving back to a Palace teeming with all manner of women — from maids to staff to nobles — that doesn’t mean I’m gonna be casting a net. In fact, just the opposite. I’m not the type to shit where I eat (it causes too much unnecessary mess) and I learnt my lesson about fucking aristos the hard way.
Which means that unless I’m planning to shell out for a call girl — hell'd have to freeze over first — a self-administered hand-job is gonna have to tide me over until there’s a big enough gap in my schedule that I can get away from the Palace for a couple of hours and find some stress relief.
I heave a low breath. Fuck my fuckin' life...
But knowing that I've backed myself into a corner, I reach resignedly for my belt. Unhooking the buckle, I fling it to the side to expose the top button of my jeans. Snapping the fastening open with one hand, I yank the zip down with the other.
The denim falls away and my dick springs free of its confines, its rigid length snapping to attention like an overeager hound that has just caught a scent.
And even though this particular outing isn’t gonna end in the long, hard run we both know we need, that doesn't stop the damn thing from drooling like a mutt in anticipation.
Setting my jaw, I shove my jeans down over my hips, half-heartedly wishing I had some lube or something to try and improve this runaway train-wreck as I reach south...
...and groan out loud as my hand wraps around the warm shaft.
Goddamn...
I’m apparently more deprived than I realised. Though, I guess that shouldn't come as a massive surprise. Especially after the near constant edging that Gale subjected me to tonight, combined with the fact that it's been a good two weeks since the last time I managed to eke out time for a fuck. And that had been mediocre at best.
As if to emphasise the point, my dick bucks against palm, and it's clear that I have a lot of mitigating to do.
Sliding my fist firmly down, then back up again, I set about stoking up a rhythm. And even though it's nothing different to what I've done hundreds of times before, something about the familiar friction sparks an instant fire in my veins.
Maybe it's 'cause I’m exhausted... Maybe it's 'cause my mind’s a mess... Maybe it's 'cause I've gone cold turkey for too long...
But whatever it is, it’s sending me into a tailspin.
I feel my head tip back against the headboard with a low moan as I'm pulled rapidly under by the throes of my self-gratification.
And as my eyes shudder closed in the face of the rising tension, I give myself up to the darkest depths of my desire...
...and in a blink of an eye, I’m back in that cramped apartment, gazing up at Gale from between her legs, the imminence of her climax written on her face, the slickness of her arousal coating my mouth and tongue.
I groan into her as she grips my hair, urging me on with her increasingly desperate pleas, her body quivering above me as she careers towards the edge...
...and I’m suddenly possessed by an all-consuming urge to have her.
Shooting to my feet, with her legs still wrapped around my shoulders, I send her sprawling back over the top of the kitchen counter.
Because I know that we don’t have much time, and if I’m gonna make this happen, we need to do it hard and fast.
And I’m not gonna let myself disappoint her again.
Grabbing her by the waist, I yank her towards me. Her hazel-green eyes widen in shock as her ass dips over the edge of the counter. But my grip on her is unshakeable and she's not going anywhere.
Not yet anyway.
Not until I've fucked her six ways 'til Sunday, and even then I probably won’t let her leave.
Because this girl sets me on fire like nobody else, and I need her to burn with me.
Bending down to give her decadent folds one more self-indulgent lick, I steady her with one hand while I rip my belt and jeans open with the other, not able to take my eyes off her as she writhed before me.
"Drake...!"
The sound of my name slipping off her lips like a fervent prayer unleashes something feral inside of me. Something I didn't even know existed in the dark recesses of my soul. Something that instantly swallows whatever vestiges of rational thought I have left, leaving only one, single-minded purpose:
To make her mine.
And in some corner of my brain I know I should be terrified. Of this rabid hunger that she's unwittingly awakened within me. Of the fact that I can’t control it... and don’t want to.
But I'm already past the point of no return. And I can’t give a rat's ass.
Because the only thing I care about is fulfilling that unspoken obsecration of hers until she’s ruined for all other men.
Shoving my jeans and boxers down with a growl, I grab her hips and ram myself into her in one, brutal motion.
Her wet heat engulfs me, taking me fully, causing my eyes to roll back into my head as I revel in the sheer euphoria of her, her deep-throated cry of agreement rising up around me.
Christ, she feels amazing!
And if the mere act of being inside her doesn’t already feel like pure rapture, she then decides to up the ante even further.
"Fuck me, Drake," she demands, arching her lower back forward.
A guttural sound rattles my throat as she rolls her hips against me, cranking up the torsion as she pulls me in even deeper.
And I could've lost it then and there.
But somehow — whether through sheer force of will, or by the grace of God — I manage to tamp down the rapidly rising swell in order to heed her command.
Because this isn’t about me. This is about her. And I’m gonna make damn sure that she gets what she wants before I let myself cum inside her.
Even if it kills me.
Opening my eyes, I meet her hazel-green gaze with an affirmative smirk. "Yes, ma'am."
She wraps her legs around me expectantly...
...and I slam us together roughly, loudly, unapologetically.
She gasps beneath me, hands flying to the edge of the counter to grip it like an anchor in a storm, her entire body reverberating with the impact of our collisions.
But I don't stop. I can't. I pound into her like a man possessed... because I am. All semblance of logic, of reason, of God-given sense has evaporated and I devolve into the basest version of myself, one that is driven purely by lust and instinct.
And even though I know I won't be able to hold out, that I'll cave in the face of her rhapsodic screams and the almost painful pressure she’s putting on my dick, I'm powerless to pull the e-brake. If anything, it makes me rev the throttle even harder.
Because she just feels too damn good, and I've been at her mercy from the start.
Lifting my head, I lock eyes with her. And in those lust-blown, hazel-green depths, I see more than just need... more than just passion.
I see complete faith.
And it undoes me.
I explode into her with a ragged, animalistic cry, my body jerking with the force of my deliverance.
"Holy... fuck!"
The long-coveted wave of release crashes over me, wiping away my thoughts and my vision, and I'd be convinced that I passed out were it not for the high-pitched ringing in my ears and the thundering of my heart.
A few more pumps, a shuddered breath as the last swell rises, and I’m left drained, floating.
I stay there, motionless, revelling in that all-too brief moment of calm before the chaos of the world spins back up around me.
Sweet Jesus, that w—
Her warm lips brush against my sweat-streaked forehead, her honey-camomile scent drifting over me like a drunken haze...
I move to lean into her. "Harp—"
...but she's already gone.
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The story continues in Chapter 11 - Cold Light of Day
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Sleepless in New York only
@bebepac
Picture Credits
Insomnia - Dawn - New York - Run - Swim - Drake - Pool
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tessa-liam · 1 year
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Marabelle
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Marabelle
🔻 Prologue: 
The Royal Romance, an AU series 
Series premise: An American teenager from New York city is introduced to the world of a small European country and its society of royalty, nobles, and commoners. How will her life story be transformed? Will this new adventure bring her happiness...or regret? 
Main Pairing: Liam Rys x F!OC (Sophia) 
Other Pairing: Maxwell Beaumont x M!OC (Daniel)  
All characters belong to Pixelberry, except Sophia Taylor and Bethany Beaumont. 
Rating: M *Warnings: this series will have NSFW material, crude language. Please excuse all errors.
Category: Alternate Universe/on-going series/angst/fluff 
Words: 874, Read: 4 minutes 
Music Inspiration: Everybody Hurts by Tina Arena 
A/N: My submission for @choicesflashfics Week #17, Prompt # 2 “Does it ever stop hurting?” - “No, you just make room for it.” @choicesficwriterscreations 
A/N2: Bethany Beaumont, Maxwell’s mother, is originally from the US; is Barthelemy Beaumont’s 2nd wife. Annabelle Beaumont (deceased) was Bertrand’s mother. 
A/N3: My submission for Maxwell Beaumont Appreciation Week @maxwell-beaumont-appreciation 
Marabelle 
Prologue: 
Sophie Taylor was excited but also nervous about this new adventure. Stepping out of the airport terminal, she breathed in the warm, fragrant air of her new home. 
She never imagined that she would ever be living in a different country, across the Atlantic Ocean; let alone starting her first year of studies at the University of Cordonia in the Fall. 
Graduating from high school two weeks ago, she was leaving behind everything she ever knew about life.  
But ever since her mother was diagnosed with cancer last Christmas, Sophie knew that her mother would start planning for her to live with her aunt in Cordonia when she passes. It was just a matter of time. 
Her father had died tragically, four years before, while on the job as a firefighter. Having no siblings, or other relatives living in the U.S., she would be all alone if she stayed in her home. 
Interrupting her thoughts, she heard her name being called. Sophie turned to see a familiar face in the crowd gathering at the luggage carousel, waving at her frantically. 
“Sophie!” Maxwell cried out as he ran up to her. 
“Max, it is so good to see you!” She dropped her luggage and allowed her cousin to fiercely hug her as she hugged him back in return. 
Like Sophie, Max would be attending U of C, in the Fall. Even though he was in his fourth year master's program, Sophie welcomed the fact that she would know at least one other person on campus. 
Her cousin Bertrand stepped up next to greet Sophie. Always the nobleman, he lifted her hand to place a kiss. 
“It’s so good to see you. I hope your flight was comfortable.” 
“It’s great to see you again, Bertrand.” 
Her older cousin was the Duke of Ramsford, who in effect had assumed the responsibilities of his father as the patriarch of Duchy Ramsford. Her Uncle Barthelemy was currently in a coma with his health in decline. His doctor forbade his current wife, and his sons, from visiting him at the personal care home in Vallenheim, claiming that it was a directive given to him by Barthelemy himself. 
Inside the town car, travelling through the Cordonian countryside to the Beaumont estate, Sophie and Max were deep in discussion getting re-acquainted after not seeing each other for a couple of years in person. 
“Are you excited about starting classes in the Fall? I know you will love it there...I have so many things to show you!” 
Starting her MBA at the University of Stormholt in the Fall, 17-year-old Sophie was anxious about having to adjust to not only losing her mom, but also navigating a new school environment. 
“I am so grateful that you will be there. I feel like a ‘fish out of water’ in so many ways.” Sophie’s lip quivered and her hands started to tremble. 
“Gosh Soph, I am so, so sorry for rambling on. I cannot even imagine the level of stress you are under.” 
Maxwell wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a hug. 
“What about you, Max? 
Uncle Barthelemy won’t let you visit him in the hospital. That must be so hard to deal with for you and Bertrand. 
Does it ever stop hurting?” Sophie asks.
“Well, no, you just make room for it.” Maxwell sighs. 
“It is what it is, Maxwell. There is no point dwelling on it.” 
Changing the subject, Bertrand asks, 
“Sophia, I know that you love horses. How would you like to adopt a horse for your very own?”  
Bertrand had information on a retired derby racer that needed a new home. House Beaumont had a horse stable and was considering adding more horses. 
“Really? That would be wonderful...but, I do not want to be a bother.” 
“Nonsense! Consider it done!” Bertrand smiled. 
“Welcome to House Beaumont, Sophie!”, Maxwell announced, as the town car slowed to turn down the long drive of the duchy. 
Looking at the beautiful estate owned by her Uncle Barthelemy and Auntie Beth, Sophie appreciated how far away from her hometown of New York City she really was. 
“Yes, welcome home,” Bertrand smiles fondly. 
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Tagging tumblrs showing interest for this fic from Sunday Six. Please let me know if you want to be added or removed⚘️@angelasscribbles @kyra75 @mom2000aggie @ao719 @writing-not @busywoman @703cowbarn @princess-geek @kingliam2019 @txemrn @harleybeaumont
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Drake Walker Appreciation Week 2023
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Announcing... Drake Walker Appreciation Week 2023… at least our version of it!
We know there are lots of Drake stans out there, so we hope you will spread the word and participate in our little event!
We welcome any kind of content for any day of this event — standalone fics, series masterlists, edits, moodboards, art… whatever floats your boat! The only requirement is that it should be Drake-focused and depict him positively.
Day 1: Monday, February 27th: Appreciation and Headcanons! Tell us what you love about Drake, and/or tell us your headcanons. This can take the form of a fic that highlights it, artwork that depicts it, or even a simple list!
Day 2: Tuesday, February 28th: Throwbacks! Please tag us in any Drake content you already have. Fics, artwork, mood boards, whatever you got!
Day 3: Wednesday, March 1st: The early years! We want to know about Drake's past! Write/draw something from his childhood, teen years, or young adult days! Anything prior to the beginning of TRR1 really.
Day 4 Thursday, March 2nd: Friends and Family! Focus on non-romantic friendships or family relationships (can be found family, in fact, that is encouraged).
Day 5 Friday, March 3rd: Romance! Tell/Show us your favorite Drake ships! Drawings, stories, mood boards!
Day 6 Saturday, March 4th: Marriage and Parenthood! We want to celebrate Drake as a husband and a father. Again, this can be a story, a drawing, a mood board, a list of headcanons about it, anything goes!
Day 7 Sunday, March 5th: Visuals! Please share your favorite face claims for Drake with us! This could be a single photo or a mood board. Artwork is also appreciated. We want to see what you see what you picture him.
Thank you to everyone who participated! The masterlist is available here.
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mariemarieohcontrary · 9 months
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Home (@hanaleeappreciationweek )
I got one piece done at least 😭 So I actually struggled to think of something to draw for Hana because I really wanted to try and make it meaningful somehow. Then I remembered the Home theme and decided to centre it around her childhood and despite how bleak and wretched it was, she was still filled with this kindness that her parents didn't really foster in her but something that was just uniquely her.
Also you guys could see snickerdoodle and a napkin there so ajdhfhsjsh
Do you want to commission me? Click the source!❤️
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burnin0akleaves · 5 months
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Writing essays worth of textposts isn't enough I need to start gatekeeping TRR
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Day 7 - Visuals!
We've reached the final day of Maxwell Beaumont Appreciation Week! Show us your Max face claims!
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persephone13 · 1 year
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Thank you so much @drake-walker-appreciation for extending the deadline! I humbly present my Headcanons for yours and our wonderful fandom’s perusal.
**I have largely ignored everything after TRR Book 3**
Early Years:
Drake was born in Cordonia, but he spent parts of his summers and school breaks in Texas with his maternal relatives—which means Drake’s voice has a Texas drawl with a Cordonian lilt. Commence with the melting people 🫠
Drake is part Mexican—his maternal grandmother is from Mexico. He spent time with her when he visited Texas and learned to speak and understand some Spanish. He understood more than he spoke. However, he lost a lot of the language as he grew older due to disuse.
Family:
Drake and Savannah were close to their mother, Bianca. Their father worked so much and had to sacrifice family quality time for royal duties, Bianca really had to handle all of the child rearing in addition to taking care of the home. This put a strain on their marriage. All of her family was in Texas. While she was friendly with the other Royal Guard wives, she still felt isolated. 
When Jackson died, Bianca had a hard time remaining in Cordonia and decided to leave her children in the care of Bastien, who was like an uncle to the kids. While she still saw her children during school breaks and summers, she missed out on their day to day. Drake held a lot of resentment towards his mother because of this. His father’s death and his mother’s departure from Cordonia triggered the start of Drake’s abandonment issues. Issues that were exacerbated when Savannah disappeared out of nowhere one day.
Drake is extremely close to his nephew Bartie. That little boy is the light of his life. Drake frequently visits him and splits babysitting duties with Max.
Career:
I have an extremely hard time believing that Drake spends his day just hanging out at the palace doing nothing but being Liam’s best friend. He has his own business. So remember the barn raising scene in TRR (Book 2 I believe)? Drake showed he knows his way around a tool belt. Our boy is good with his hands 😉 As a kid, he built a tree house with Liam, Max, Olivia, and Savannah (they bribed Leo to get them the materials). Unfortunately, all of their fathers were terrified that they would fall, so they had to dismantle it. However, his construction was so sturdy, that the floor of the tree house could not be taken down and remains to this day. This was the just the start of Drake’s construction days. 
Drake majored in engineering and architecture in college and had planned to become an architect, but he left school to support Liam after the assassination attempt. Liam was very grateful, but guilty that Drake gave up his life for him, so once things were more settled, he pushed Drake to go back to school. Drake took night classes and online courses. By the time Liam’s courting season begins, Drake already has both Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees and a small, but in demand construction business with loyal workers, one of whom takes the lead when royal duty calls. He is a self-made millionaire, specializing in taking abandoned or bankrupt properties and either restructuring existing homes or building new ones. He makes his serious money selling to the Cordonian elite (with whom he happily jacks up his prices), while also building homes for those with low-middle income.
Drake was knighted for taking a bullet for Cordonia’s future queen and for his heroic actions in saving Liam and Riley on their wedding night. He has an official title, Sir Drake Walker, which makes him a noble. He gets a stipend for that.
Drake also manages the Palace Stables
Home:
Drake is a country boy at heart. He bought himself his own lakeside property with a dilapidated lake house, barn, and a small cottage. He spent his free time fixing the cottage first to make it livable. This is his home away from the palace, his sanctuary, where he can fish and work on the lake house.
Romance:
Drake has been burned. A lot. He has grown accustomed to being used as a steppingstone to Liam. He prefers monogamous relationships and wants marriage, kids, the works. However, he has become jaded and has settled for short term relationships and one-offs.
He dated Kiara in secret for some time before she ended the relationship due to Drake’s commoner status. She attempted reconciliation when he was knighted and she discovered that he has this lucrative career under his belt, but he politely declined.
So when I first played TRR, I shipped Drake with Riley. However, I also really loved Riley with Liam. In my HC, Drake found her attractive, but preferred her as a friend, especially because she and Liam fell for each other so hard. 
Our boy deserves some love of his own, so I developed an Original Character, Selena Del Toro, who was the only relative of Riley’s to be invited to the wedding. I have a fic I’ve been tinkering with for the last year that is well over 100,000 words. It may or may not see the light of Tumblr day—I haven’t decided yet. It’s a bit (a lot) self-indulgent and filled with so much exposition, that if I ever get around to serious editing, I’ll probably put all the backstory as the start of the fic and make my original beginning the middle of the fic. Anyway, all this to say that Riley and Selena are cousins. Selena is in the mental health field. She is invited back to Cordonia to become the clinical coordinator of a domestic violence program Riley has begun as her first major social service program as Queen. 
Drake meets Selena on Riley and Liam’s wedding day when she literally skids to a stop in a rental at the wedding venue. She jumps out in her Maid of Honor dress, barefoot, and tosses her keys to one of the Royal Guard as if they are the valet. She runs up and embraces the soon to be Queen and declares that Cordonia is more dangerous than New York. Drake is, of course smitten, actually dances with her for the Best Man/Maid of Honor dance, and begins his pining when she suddenly has to leave Cordonia for a work crisis after our TRR crew rescues the royal couple. When she returns after a rather traumatic event that Drake is not yet privy to, he offers her the cottage to use as her home and office. Her New York crisis of course follows her to Cordonia. Drama ensues. 
I am a mushy romantic who is incapable of writing a tragic ending, so there is a happily ever after that I have not yet written. There are cute kittens, a wedding, an Olivia-Selena friendship forged out of mutual respect because both ladies know their way around hand-to-hand combat and blades, hurt/comfort, smut, fluff, fluffy smut, and a deep respect for self-care rituals.
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txemrn · 11 months
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King Liam Appreciation Day 5 👑
This has been such a fun week! I have enjoyed seeing everyone's creations, HCs, and general excitement over discussing all things Liam! Special thanks again to our amazing hosts @lizzybeth1986 and @sazanes. Thank y'all for working so hard to make everything so special for @kingliamappreciationweek!
In honor of KLAW #5, I thought I would share 2 different creations (2 different posts, you'll understand why!) about one of my AUs called Stay (Masterlist).
This is a short reel edit of the Prologue: A Shadow in the Dark, where we meet "Will the Thrill" (and if you are new, hi! Here is a little bit of background info if you just want to watch the video: Connie isn't too terrible; Eleanor is still alive; Leo didn't abdicate; Liam still found Riley; if you choose to read, this whole scenario is a very loose nod to an incident talked about in canon). Enjoy!
TW: gun violence
*I do not own the rights to the music; no copyright infringement intended. Characters and some plots belong to Pixelberry.
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harleybeaumont · 1 year
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Drake Walker Appreciation, Day 5 - Romance
Here are the pairings I've written for Drake! @drake-walker-appreciation:
The Other Nevrakis- Drake x Lilith Nevrakis (my OC) - these two start off as a snarky, cynical, whiskey drinking pair who don't believe in love. By the end, they're a snarky, less cynical, still whiskey drinking couple of smitten idiots in love 😍
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Unintentional - Drake x Riley - though not the main pairing in this fic, Drake and Riley are amazing friends to Liam, who in this story, needs loyal friends more than anything! And we know Drake is devoted to his friendship with his childhood best friend!
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Between Friends - Drake x Maxwell - this was a one shot I wrote where Drake explores his bisexuality with the help of his friend, Max. (Who turns out to be more than a friend by the end.) We all know Drake can be a bit serious, but sometimes it's good to have a partner to help bring you out of your shell and learn to have a little fun and relax!
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Love Me The Way I Am - Drake x Liam - they are only a minor part of the story, but I see the two of them as a couple in this fic. Having to hide their love from the rest of the court, these two explore the old friends to lovers trope (which I LOVE). They are such an angsty pairing, and I adore writing and reading them.
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angelasscribbles · 1 year
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Birthday Spanking: A Bad Romance One-Shot
Series: Bad Romance Continues
Original Series: Bad Romance
Fandom: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir
Pairings for series: Riley x Liam x Max, Riley x Drake, Riley x Rashad
Pairing for this chapter: Riley x Max
Rating: NSFW 🍋🍋🍋
Warnings for this chapter: BDSM D/s dynamic, bondage, erotic spanking. Language.
Word Count: 2,581 
A/N: Back in September 2022 @harleybeaumont made a request for "subby secretary Max". It only took me six months to write it. She also gets credit for the pic below as she sent it to me for inspiration.
A/N2: Here's a link just in case anyone is interested in learning more about erotic spanking and why it's pleasurable to some people.
My other stuff: Master List.
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Riley walked the secretary of finance to the door of her office, “Thank you, Lord Herron,” she ushered him out as he nodded and tried to continue the conversation.
She pushed the door closed and leaned on it, breathing out a sigh of relief. Lord Archibald Herron was a lot. Like, really a lot. He was at least ninety years old, and would not retire. He talked a lot, had outdated ideas, and took forever to tell a story.
She was exhausted from the encounter and stressed the fuck out. She glanced up at the ornate Lewisburg wall clock on her wall. She had time to kill before her next appointment.
She knew exactly how to relieve her stress.
She pulled the door open to peer into the outer office. Her eyes landed on Max, who was rifling through a file cabinet for something.
“Max!” She called out, “Come in here, now! I have something to dictate to you!”
Max looked up from his filing, “Oh, um, yes, okay, coming!” He swiftly grabbed a steno pad and pencil from his desk as he walked past it.
“Hold all my calls,” Riley told the receptionist as she stood back and let Max through then she pushed the door shut and turned the lock. It was Max’s birthday and she had something special planned.
Max, completely unsuspecting, took a seat in the chair in front of the desk and flipped the steno pad open, “Okay, what are you dictating?”
Riley sauntered across the room and pulled herself up onto the edge of the desk, crossing her legs as she did so. One hand moved up her thigh, sliding her skirt up, revealing thigh-high stockings, “To whom it may concern, the queen needs to be…handled.”
Max glanced up at her, then back down at the steno pad clutched in his hand. He blinked then his head jerked back up as he realized what she was saying.
When his eyes found her again, she was sitting on edge of her desk, dangling a pair of handcuffs from her fingertips.
His eyes dipped down to trace up her legs, taking in the top of the stocking and the attached garter belt before making their way up her curves to lock on her face. His mouth went dry, “How may I be of service, Your Majesty?”
“You can get over here and let me cuff you. Now.”
The sharpness of her command sent a frisson of excitement through him as he bolted out of the chair, steno pad and pencil falling forgotten to the ground as he hurried to do her bidding.
“Turn around.” She ordered.
He complied without a sound, spinning to place his back to her and bringing his wrists together. He felt the cold metal encircle both wrists and heard them click as they snapped into place.
She tugged on each one making sure they were snug but not too tight. “Spin.”
When he turned back to face her, she was wearing a seductive smile and twirling a very familiar collar in her hand. It was black studded leather with an O ring in the front and a locking buckle in the back. He vividly remembered the day she had placed it around his neck for the first time. The day she had collared him had been the happiest day of his life.
A collaring ceremony is just as meaningful as a wedding ceremony in many circles. It meant he belonged to her, but more than that, it meant that she made a commitment to him. The collar was as symbolic as a wedding band and having her place it around his neck in front of witnesses had brought him a sense of belonging and security.
The fact that she was dangling it in front of him as he stood in her office in the middle of the day with his hands cuffed behind his back told him that she was ready to play. A shiver ran through his body as he let his eyes dip down to her legs and trek slowly back upward again.
“Kneel,” she commanded.
He made and held direct eye contact as he lowered himself to his knees in front of her, “Yes, my queen.”
A shudder of pleasure ran through her at the way he made the honorific sound so sexual, “Good boy,” she crooned as she placed the collar around his neck.
He bowed his head so she could buckle it, “You’re every wish is my fervent command, Your Majesty. I live to please you.”
“Glad to hear it,” she told him as she slid the hem of her skirt higher, revealing her lack of panties, “Your tongue between my legs would please me very much right now.”
He crawled forward on his knees and, unable to use his hands which were cuffed behind him, nudged her legs further apart using his head and lapped a soft, warm line up her center.
Her fingers twisted in his hair as she scooted closer to the edge of the desk and wrapped her legs around his neck, “God, yes….” The day’s tension melted right out of her body.
Max on his knees in front of her never disappointed.
His tongue was warm and soft as it twirled and flicked at her center, trailing sparks in its wake as it worked. Up and down, side to side, in and out, round and round, not a single spot was neglected.
Heat suffused her body as tension coiled and tightened inside her. She tried to push his head back to draw it out, but he surged forward forcing her over the edge. Her body arched off the desk and into his mouth as her repressed screams filtered out as moans and gasps. “Fuck, yes, Max!” Her fingers tightened in his hair as she pulled him closer, losing herself in the crashing waves of ecstasy as he licked her through the orgasm.
When she was done, she gently pushed him away as she scooted back on the desk, tugging her skirt back into place. “Good boy,” she told him as she slid off the desk, “Now stand up, I have something for you.”
She helped him to his feet since he couldn’t use his hands to help himself. She laid gentle kisses along his back as she uncuffed him.
“What is it?” he rubbed his wrists, an anticipatory thrill slipping through him.
“Did you think I had forgotten it’s your birthday?” She smirked at him as she rummaged around in the oversized tote she had brought to the office that morning.
“N-no…” he replied carefully, “We have plans for dinner tonight and we’re going to the peacock show tomorrow….”
“Oh, but you haven’t had your birthday spanking yet, have you?”
Max closed his eyes and groaned as a shiver of eager excitement ran through him, “No my queen, I have not.”
“Well, we have to correct that,” she told him as her eyes ran up and down his body with a predatory glint, “so drop those pants, turn around, put your hands on the desk, and bend over.”
He locked eyes with her as he slowly unbuckled his pants, “Yes, Your Majesty,” he hooked his fingers under the waistband of his pants and underwear, pushing them down to tangle around his ankles, then he turned, leaned over and placed both hands on the top of the highly polished mahogany executive desk.
Riley laid several implements on the desk in front of him. A slapper paddle with cut-out hearts carved into the leather, a flogger with soft metallic silver fronds, a crop with a split tipped top and textured handle, a black leather whip, and a small satin and leather spanking paddle.
Max felt his cock stiffen as his eyes swept across their toys. Riley’s fingers ghosted across his back as she leaned down, put her mouth to his ear, and whispered, “Your choice, my sweet, perfect, subby boy toy.”
“Fuck!” Max sucked in an audible gasp as he felt his dick throb. Precum oozed out of the tip as his heart rate spiked.
“Well? Which one?”
His eyes moved from one to the next. Each implement had its draw. The slapper paddle would make a loud, satisfying noise, but didn’t do much in the way of delivering the sharp sting he craved. The flogger would sting nicely and leave pretty red welts to remind him of the encounter, but it was quiet. The crop was perhaps the best of both worlds, providing a satisfying whoosh as it moved through the air, a resounding thwack when it made contact with his ass and the welts would last for days. The whip was too much for the middle of the afternoon. He wanted to be able to walk normally when he left her office. The spanking paddle was entirely too quiet and entirely too gentle.
“The crop,” he decided.
“Are you sure?” She picked up the spanking paddle and ran the satin side across his rear.
He swallowed thickly, “I’m sure.”
“Hm,” she replaced the paddle and picked up the flogger, trailing the fronds lightly down his back.
A shiver ran through him as goosebumps erupted from head to toe.
“What do we say?” she prompted.
“Please,” he responded immediately.
“Please, what?”
“Please spank me, my queen.”
Riley replaced the flogger on the desk and hefted the crop in her hand, debating which way to go with it. A heavy hand or a light hand would deliver different results. She could create a multitude of sensations with the impact toy, from sensuous light caresses to sharp stinging bites.
“I know what you like, Max,” She purred as she leaned her body across his back and reached around to take him firmly in her hand, stroking up and down.
Max squeezed his eyes tightly shut, his entire body trembling, “Fuck, Riley, I’m so close already.”
She released him and stepped back, her free hand smacking him on the ass before bringing the crop down onto the tender flesh of his backside. It made a whooshing sound as it cut through the air.
He jerked as the leather bit into him, delivering its stinging kisses. His hands grasped the edge of the desk tightly, the wood digging into his palms. “Oh! Riley!”
Every thwack pushed him closer to the edge.
Thwack!
His fingers pushed harder against the desktop.
Thwack!
His teeth sank into his lower lip as he muffled a grunt of pleasure.
Thwack!
His erection throbbed.
Thwack!
Darkness clouded the edges of his vision as he lost the battle to stay quiet. A high-pitched whine started in the back of his throat.
“I love you, Max,” the words dripped like honey from her lips as she brought the crop down again.
Thwack!
That was it, his hands lost purchase and he toppled forward onto the desktop, guttural cries ripped from him as his body convulsed, his cock pulsing and spewing streams of milky wetness all over the front of the desk, the floor, and his own pants that were still tangled around his ankles.
A shiver ran down his spine, his whole body tingled, and pinpricks of euphoria erupted across his scalp. He slid off the desk onto the floor, kneeling on all fours as he gasped for breath.
Riley tossed the crop onto the desk and sat down next to him, drawing his head into her lap. She ran her fingers gently through his hair, “How are you doing, my sweet boy?”
“I’m doing great!” He relaxed, lying on the office floor, his mind blissfully blank as he reveled in the sensation of floating off into the ether.  
She moved his head from her lap so she could stretch out next to him on the floor, snuggling close to him. They exchanged soft kisses and loving caresses as quiet expressions of love were murmured back and forth.
“You stay there,” she told him as she stretched and sat up.
“Where are you going?”
“Nowhere, I’ll be right back.”
She stepped around the desk and returned a moment later with a small bottle in her hand. Max lay on the floor, chin propped on his folded arms as Riley tenderly applied a soothing aloe vera cream to his reddened bottom, “You should take the rest of the day off and go take a nice warm bath.”
“Mm-uh,” he shook his head, “I want to stay.”
“You want to stay at work on your birthday?” she laughed in surprise.
“I want to stay near you, my everything. Always.”
“All right,” her voice held amusement, but her eyes were filled with warmth as she recapped the bottle, “Have it your way.”
He heaved a sigh, “Speaking of work, I should get out of here before your next appointment arrives.”
“They can wait,” she told him as she stood, “What are they gonna do? I’m the queen!”
“Thank you,” he pushed onto all fours, climbed to his feet, and pulled his pants gingerly back up.
“You don’t have to thank me,” she smirked at him, “I got as much out of it as you did and it’s your birthday!”
“I’m still getting dinner and the peacock show though, right?”
Riley tilted her back as a laugh burst out of her, “Oh, my God, Max, yes!”
Without any spoken instructions or discussion between them, Max retrieved a towel from the attached bathroom and cleaned up the mess while Riley put away the toys. They worked quickly, falling easily into their familiar routine, even though they weren’t in their usual place.
When they were done, Riley ran a hand down his face, “Happy Birthday, sweet boy,” she whispered, bringing her lips to his.
Their tongues tangled together for a few brief moments then Max pulled away with a grin, “See you tonight!”
He was almost at the door when her voice stopped him.
“Max, wait!” Riley rushed to catch up with him, “You forgot to take off your collar!”
“Oh, this?” he grinned as his fingers slid across the supple leather at his neck, “I’m keeping it on.”
“You’re not worried about what people will think?”
“Since when have I ever cared what people think?” he scoffed, “Besides, they probably all heard me in here screaming like a little bitch anyway.”
“Those were very manly screams, Max,” she corrected him.
“Glad you think so,” he took the opportunity to pull her into his arms for one last kiss.
Riley giggled as she let herself be jerked forward into his grasp.
He nuzzled into the side of her neck playfully before bringing his lips to hers and melting into the kiss. An incredible sense of contentment spread over him.
He had an entire birthday weekend planned. Tonight was dinner with his closest friends and family, tomorrow was the peacock show with Riley followed by a huge party. Sunday he was spending the day with Liam. But even if there were no parties, no dinners, and no celebrations, this was already the best birthday he’d ever had.
It was his first birthday with Riley and the first one spent with Liam as a couple. He had the man that he loved and the woman that he loved and by some miracle, they both loved him back. There was literally nothing else on earth that he wanted or needed. He was happy, he was content, and he was beyond grateful for the life they’d built together.
He still wanted to see the peacocks though.
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Tagging:
All Things TRR:
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@21-wishes @secretaryunpaid @lunaseasblog  @princessleac1 @bebepac
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@choicesficwriterscreations
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karahalloway · 1 year
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A Leviathan Surprise
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Fandom: TRR
Series: None - this is a one-shot
Pairings: Maxwell Beamont x Bertrand Beaumont (nothing sexual - just brotherly love)
Synopsis: Maxwell unveils a larger than life surprise for Bertrand's birthday
Word count: 1,200
Warnings: Posh British swearing, using the Lord's name in vain, oversized squid
A/N1: This is my off-the-cuff submission for Day 4: Friends and Family of the inaugural Maxwell Beaumont Appreciation Week, hosted by @maxwell-beaumont-appreciation.
A/N2: The idea for this one-shot was actually born back in December when @maxwell-beaumont-appreciation reblogged this post by @fictionangyl featuring the cover photo and the question 'Think Bertrand would approve of a little redecorating at Ramsford? 🤔' and the general consensus was 'no' 🤣 But I got inspired by the pic and the comments and decided that I had to immortalise this visual in a fic, because it was too perfect to pass up!
A/N3: I know I normally write in first person POV, but this drabble came to me in third person, so here we are 😇
A/N4: Since Bertrand is 33 at the start of (Un)Common Attraction, I guess that means that this fic takes place 3 years before the start of the social season.
A Leviathan Surprise
Maxwell was giddy with excitement.
Scratch that.
He was positively bursting with anticipation!
Bertrand was going to be home any minute now, and the young Beaumont could not wait to surprise his older brother with his... Well, surprise.
It was Bertrand's birthday, after all...
And even though Bertrand hadn't wanted a fuss made, much less a party thrown — because, let's face it, they were broke — when one of his thousands of Insta followers had tagged him in a post featuring this jewel of divine inspiration, Maxwell had known: THIS was it... the perfect birthday present for his brother.
The fact that it had cost the better part of an arm and a leg and had required several hundred dedicated man-hours to accomplish was besides the point.
Bertrand was going to love it!
And that's all that mattered.
Because this year — of all years — Bertrand deserved to be treated. And a bit of financial bother was not going to stop Lord Breakdance from properly commemorating his brother's epic milestone.
The big 3-0.
Bertrand was now officially (and irreconcilably) a grown-up.
So what better way to celebrate (or commiserate?) than by killing two birds with one stone?
The painting gallery had always held a special place in the Beaumont brothers' hearts. In large part because it was where their mother's portrait hung — young, beautiful, full of life, she beamed out at the viewer even though it was against the conventions of formal portraiture.
But then, their mother had never been a stickler for the rules...
...probably why everyone said Maxwell took after her.
But a dreadful summer thunderstorm last year had sent a 100-year old oak tree crashing through the roof of the wing of the House that the gallery sat in, leaving an unsightly hole in the ceiling. Which — even though it had been patched — had never been completely made new.
We have more important things to allocate our meagre funds on, Bertrand kept reminding him every time the subject was raised.
Well, no longer!
Maxwell had taken matters into his own hands — raising a chunk of the money through livestreamed charity breakdance-offs with prominent YouTubers, and receiving the shortfall via a last-minute cheque made out by a well-heeled benefactor — to not only bring the painting gallery back to its former glory, but to improve it!
Bertrand was going to love it.
He was sure of it.
In fact, he had never been more sure of anything in his life!
...apart from the time he had bought an entire ostentation of peacocks so he could perform a peacock wedding.
Because what better way to celebrate the fact that these beautiful birds mated for life?
...or was the swans...?
It didn't matter. The point was that Maxwell had become ordained so he could perform the ceremony of the two fowl becoming one with the necessary sanctity and gravitas.
And his brother deserved the same level of commitment and dedication to detail as those beautiful birds had gotten through the course of the two-and-a-half hour long marriage affair.
Just with a lot less poop.
"Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Maxwell!" cried Bertrand, storming into the picture gallery. "What in the blazes is so urgent that it couldn't—? Oh, good God...!"
The elder Beaumont froze as he laud eyes on the centre-piece of the newly renovated space — the gargantuan papermaché kraken that sat suspended upside-down from the ceiling like some nefarious, overgrown bat, waiting to pounce (or fall?) on its unsuspecting victims.
The ominous creaking of the wires that held in in place didn't help matters either.
"Happy birthday, Bertrand!" exclaimed Maxwell, rushing up to crush his big brother in a celebratory hug. "May your—"
Bertrand deftly sidestepped the ill-timed PDA to thrust his finger accusingly at the ceiling. "What... in the name of all that is holy... is THAT?!"
"Your birthday present!" grinned Maxwell, completely unfazed by his brother's rapidly twitching eyelid. "Do you like it?"
Bertrand was visibly trembling. "It's... it’s..."
"Gorgeous?" prompted Maxwell. "Glorious? Utterly res—?"
"IT'S AN ABOMINATION!"
Maxwell's face fell. "Oh."
"What in the devil possessed you to conceive of, let alone spend money — money which we do not have, might I add! — on such a massive piece of macabre monstrousness!"
"I thought you'd like it..." Maxwell muttered sheepishly.
"Like it?" Bertrand spluttered incredulously. "I’d like to clobber you over the head with it! I'd—!"
A lone sniffle escaped the younger Beaumont...
...and Bertrand's shoulders fell.
"Oh, bugger..." he muttered under his breath.
Stepping up to what was left of his family, he laid a consolatory hand on his sibling's shoulder. "My apologies, brother. That was crass of me. I shouldn't have—"
"You hate it," lamented Maxwell, wiping the tears from his eyes.
"No, no!" objected Bertrand quickly. "I... I was simply caught off guard. It's not everyday that you see a giant cephalopod dangling from the ceiling."
"It's okay if you hate it..." whispered Max. "I... I'll just get it taken down and—"
"You will do no such thing!" admonished the elder Beaumont. "You've already frittered away God-knows how many hundreds of guilders on—"
"Thousands," corrected Maxwell.
"Thousands?" squeaked Bertrand, going deathly pale. "Oh, dear Lord in Heaven...!"
"2,375.97 to be exact," clarified Maxwell. "And that was just the materials."
Bertrand wheezed asthmatically.
"But it was all funded by charitable donations."
Bertrand snapped his head up. "Charitable? Donations? Who in their right mind would—?"
"Fund the creation of a one-of-a-kind avant-garde art installation?" asked Leo, stepping out from behind a neo-Greek pillar.
"And spend hundreds of man-hours elbows-deep in papermaché and glue?" added Chris, emerging from behind a curtain.
"Not to mention risk life and limb trying to attach the damn thing to the ceiling..." grumbled Drake.
"You?!" demanded Bertrand with wide eyes. "You were behind this?"
"We... may have contributed our respective skills-sets," admitted Leo with a sly smile.
"If by 'contribute' you mean 'got press ganged'..." muttered Drake.
"But it was all Maxwell's idea," added Chris. "He organised the fundraising, the equipment, the workmen, even the tea and biscuits."
"Those were good biscuits..." agreed Leo with a far-away look.
Bertrand turned back to his brother. "You... you project managed this shambles? By yourself?"
Maxwell shrugged. "I had to keep it a surprise."
"Oh, you silly muppet," sighed Bertrand as he wrapped his brother into an uncommon embrace. "There's hope for you after all..."
"So... does that mean you like it?" asked Maxwell, hope sparking in his baby-blue eyes.
"I... I think it may be a somewhat of an acquired taste..." admitted Bertrand with a shudder. "But I'm proud of you, brother. You finally showed me that you have what it takes to be a true Beaumont."
"A hereditary obsession with squid?"
"Pluck," smiled Bertrand, clapping his younger sibling on the shoulder affectionately. "And that is the best birthday present a brother can ask for."
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Permas:
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queenrileyrose · 11 months
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Irreplaceable Epilogue: Showed Me What Love Is
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Series Premise: Two years after his abdication and wedding to Katie, Leo meets Riley the night of Liam’s coronation.
The story is told in first person POV that switches between Riley and Leo.
Catch Up Here
Book: RoE/TRR
Pairings: Leo x MC, Drake x Liam
Rating: T
Music Inspo: Happiness-the 1975
Summary: Riley and Leo throw a housewarming party.
TW: Language, sensuality
A/N: This is a few months after Gives You Hell.
A/N 2: I never expected to write a series like this, and aside from hating the cheating parts, I had the best time in this little world. I’m really going to miss this Driam pairing and being in Leo’s head 🤣😂 I’m so sad for it to end, but I have a one shot or two planned, so we’ll see the Irreplaceable gang again.
Thank you all so much for spending nearly the past two years with these guys. I appreciate it so much. ❤️
LEO
I rest my chin on Riley’s soft hair, her breath tickling my chest. Something pushes against my eyelid, and I wince. Ouch.
I pop one eye open and come face to face with Professor Pouncey. How’d he get in here? I shut the bedroom door, didn’t I?
Riley murmurs something and sighs, meaning she’s about two seconds from waking up. 
“Riles,” I whisper, trailing my fingers down her back. “Are you awake?”
“Mmhhmm,” Riley hums, nestling into me. Her lips brush against my chest. 
Riley’s lips move lower, and her fingers trace my abs. A shiver goes through me, and before I forget why I woke up, Pouncey lets out the whiniest meow I’ve ever heard. 
Riley freezes, lifting her chin to clock Pouncey sitting just above her head. “How’d he get in here? How’d he even jump that high?”
Our bed is about six inches off the floor, a wrought iron four-poster queen with the most comfortable mattress I’ve ever slept on and a large velvet tufted headboard. The first week we moved in, we didn’t leave it much. Best week ever.
“I don’t know,” I glance over my shoulder at the door, and it’s shut. “Did you wake up in the middle of the night? Maybe he snuck in?”
“Fuck,” Riley sits up, pushing her hair out of her face. “I brought him in. Totally forgot.”
“Why?” Riley tolerates the cat. She says he’s judgy, but she also whispers it in case he hears because she doesn’t want to hurt his feelings. 
“I woke up and got water,” Riley scoops Pouncey off the pillow and swings herself out of bed. “He was trying to eat the rug in the hall and gave me the saddest little face when I stopped him.” She sets him outside the door and closes it softly. “Thank god Luca is taking him home tonight.”
Luca officially moved to Cordonia this weekend. He and Max got serious faster than anyone expected, but like Riley says, when you know, you know. 
I know. I knew it five minutes after meeting her.
Pouncey has lived with us for almost a month. During Luca’s last visit, he said it didn’t make sense to bring the cat back. Aside from Max visiting and Luca FaceTiming every day, it’s been me and Riley and the weirdest cat alive. I’m not kidding. I caught him licking an outlet, and we had to get those childproof covers.
We have decided we’re both dog people. 
Riley walks back to me, briefly silhouetted against the window by the morning sun. She’s wearing one of my t-shirts, and she’s never looked more beautiful. She crawls back into bed, wrapping her arms around me and throwing one leg over mine. I stroke her calf, soaking in the moment. 
“Ready for tonight?” Riley kisses my neck. “Housewarming?”
We found a place pretty quickly. It’s a large villa less than half a mile from the ocean. We can see the coast from the balcony just outside our bedroom. We both fell in love with it, and that was it. It took us a while to furnish; Riley refused to buy anything big or small without being in agreement.
It was primarily white on the inside, but we’ve wallpapered and painted, and re-tiled. The bedroom is my favorite, with blue paradise leaves wallpaper.
It feels like home. I never want to leave. I’m so goddamn lucky.
It was my idea to have a housewarming. Riley was a little hesitant, not wanting to bum me out because of the last one. I assured her it was a new memory, like the casino, to replace the old shitty one. She lit up at that, and we went into planning mode. 
It works out perfectly because I’m finally proposing tonight.
I was going to ask her during the circuit, but the timing never seemed perfect. We went to Thailand for a few weeks after, and it never felt like the right moment. It took me a little while to figure out why.
When I met she who shall not be named, I was struggling. I wanted to escape and didn’t know how. No matter if the proposal felt right at the time, in that damn hot air balloon, something was missing. I guess I was looking for an escape when I met Riley too, but she inspired me to grow the fuck up and face my shit. She’s the reason I’m closer to my family than I have been in years. 
I want the people we love to be there. I want to share it with them. I don’t know when I became so sentimental, but I’m not mad about it.
“Yes,” I stroke her hair. “More than ready.”
She straddles me in one fluid motion, lowering her face to mine. 
“We have plenty of time,” Before I can reply, she captures my lips with hers. 
I grab her by the waist and flip her over, pushing her t-shirt up. She has little silver hoops in, and I tug them gently with my teeth, relishing the breathy moan she makes. I kiss her stomach, her hips. 
“I’m so glad you don’t wear underwear to bed,” I murmur against her skin.
She laughs, her hand tangling in my hair. “You get impatient and rip them. I thought I’d save you the trouble.”
I kiss her thigh, nipping lightly. “Are you telling me that if I keep destroying them, you’ll stop altogether?”
Riley laughs again; that gorgeous sound I can’t get enough of. I find her hand, threading our fingers together.
———
RILEY
“Shit,” I mutter as the chimes of the doorbell echo, hurriedly fastening the back of the diamond stud in my ear. “Ten bucks says that’s Liam and Drake.”
“I’m not betting because you’re probably right,” Leo brushes my hair over one shoulder gently and zips the back of my pink strapless dress. It’s a little more girly than I usually wear; ruffles frame the high-low hem, but I love it. 
Leo’s hands rest on my hips, and his lips brush my shoulder. “You look beautiful.”
I spin around and loop my arms around his neck. “You look very handsome.”
Leo’s white shirt makes his eyes even bluer. I press my toes into the hardwood floor and kiss him quickly. He holds me in place, deepening the kiss, and I melt into him.
The doorbell chimes again, and I reluctantly step back. “We better go.”
Leo groans. “Why’s my brother always have to be twenty minutes early?”
I shrug. “That’s Liam.”
——
It wasn’t just Liam and Drake. Luca and Max were waiting, too. 
Olivia and Amalas were invited, but they are off on some mission. I’ve met the spy queen, and despite that she gave me all the details she found about me in the first ten minutes, I like her. She makes Olivia laugh. 
Bertrand was also invited, but he has Bartie this weekend and planned a camping trip that Drake helped set up. Savannah still lives at Ramsford, but she enrolled in college to study business administration. She’s thriving, Bertrand is happy, and Bartie’s grown into his eyebrows.
Luca was supposed to bring a charcuterie board, but decided it would be funner to teach me how to make one. 
I wince as a slice of prosciutto unrolls, falling onto a wedge of sharp cheddar. “I don’t think I’m doing this right.”
Maxwell looks over from his spot beside Luca. “It doesn’t look bad. Say it’s avant-garde or something.”
Simon and Lucy will be here soon. So will Regina, and I don’t know why I’m a little on edge about her. We get along great; she came to several races during the circuit. We got drunk on rosé one night in Amsterdam and laughed for hours. I don’t even remember what was so funny. 
Constantine wasn’t invited, but if Regina brings him, I won’t be surprised. She wants him and Liam and Leo to repair their relationship. I’m not optimistic. It’s nice that she cares, I guess. 
I’d rather she bring Landon, but that’s probably not appropriate. I’ve only been working for Simon’s team for a little over three weeks, and I love it. Landon is surprisingly easygoing. Simon is awesome, he knows exactly what he wants for the team’s image, but he’s also open to all my ideas. Plus, he insists I go to Leo’s training a few times a week.
I meet with Liam once a week to keep him updated on team stuff, in addition to seeing him almost every day. Leo’s been hanging out with Liam and Drake almost as much as I have. 
Now Luca is here, and everything is perfect.
Luca peers over my shoulder. “Just tuck the edge there.”
I re-roll the meat and do as he says. This time it stays. “Hey, look at that!”
Leo glances over from the oven, a tray of spanakopita in hand. “Good job, baby!” 
I blow him a kiss, and he winks. God. Even that makes my heart flutter. Old Riley wouldn’t recognize me, and I couldn’t be happier.
Marriage still crosses my mind sometimes, but I focus on the present. Leo and I had so much fun this past year. I feel like I know him so much better than I already did. It’s just a piece of paper, and I’d rather live this life with him forever than get hung up on it.
“Did you get your nails done?” Luca raises an eyebrow and gestures at my manicure. 
I dry my hands on a towel and wiggle them at him. “Yep, Leo surprised me. He even got a pedicure.”
“That wasn’t supposed to leave the salon,” Leo mutters. I blow him another kiss, and the edge of his lip turns up.
“I get pedicures,” Maxwell shrugs, rocking on his heels. “How else are you supposed to keep your toenails in check?”
I open my mouth, then close it. Leo snickers and shakes his head.
“Well, they look beautiful,” Luca brings my hand closer. It’s simple, a navy blue polish with a few silver stars. “Want me to set that board on the table, pet?”
“I got it,” I lift the heavy wooden platter and walk carefully into the dining room. We put up black wallpaper with wildflowers all over it. The table is a plank of dark wood, and the chairs are a lighter wood with yellow cushions and wicker backs. It sounds horrendous, at least that’s what my mom said, but somehow it all works. 
I pull a few bottles of Sauvignon Blanc from the small fridge beside the sideboard that matches the table. We brought the wine back from France, and it’s so good I can drink a bottle by myself. I won’t tonight. 
I step outside the open French doors. “I’m about to open the wine, interested?”
Liam stands from the patio chair, Drake stands with him. “That sounds lovely.”
“What kind of wine?” Drake asks warily. 
“White,” I lead them to the dining room. “I also have this.”
I pull a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label from behind the sideboard, and Drake’s face lights up. 
I pour all of us a drink and turn to Liam. “Any new photos?”
Liam immediately pulls his phone from his pocket, navigating to a picture before handing it to me.
“Wow,” I breathe, setting my wine glass down. “Liam, she has your nose. That’s wild.”
I zoom in on the 3D ultrasound; Cordonia’s next princess is curled in a ball, her thumb in her mouth. Liam and Drake both donated, and the sample was chosen at random, but it’s pretty obvious. 
“She’s extraordinary,” Liam’s voice breaks, and I grab his hand, squeezing before letting go. “Less than two weeks until we meet her.”
“Have you two agreed on a name yet?” I give Liam his phone; he stares at it a moment before storing it back in his shirt pocket. “Last l heard, Drake wanted something very Texan, and you did not.”
“Annie is not Texan,” Drake argues. “But, we have a name.”
“Don’t leave me in suspense!”
Drake slings an arm around Liam’s shoulders and grins. “Want to tell her, Li?”
There are times when I look at Drake, and it strikes  me how happy he is, how fulfilled he seems.  He wears way less denim; he’s sort of embraced the business casual look. His vibe is completely different. He’s still sarcastic and not a fan of emotion sometimes, but he’s softer. I’ll never tell him that.
Liam, too, as he smiles at Drake. He’s much lighter, the weight of his responsibilities aren’t so heavy with his best friend and husband at his side. The coronation night seems like another life sometimes; it’s hard to remember these two not together and happy. 
“Her name is Eleanor Rose,” Liam’s eyes crinkle. “After my mother, of course, and her godmother.”
It takes me a second to catch up. My middle name is Rose. 
“Wait,” My eyes fill. “You want me to be her godmother?”
“Easiest decision we’ve ever made,” Drake pats my arm. “If you’ll accept.”
My eyes spill over, and I nod quickly. “Of course I accept!”
Liam pulls me into a hug, and Drake wraps one arm around me. I’m still not used to the group hugs. 
“Who else is going to teach her how to say fuck?” I joke as I step back. Liam hands me a handkerchief, and I dab at my cheeks before returning it. He removes a smear of mascara and chuckles. 
“I’m sure Drake will have that covered,” Liam tucks the handkerchief back in his pocket. “However, his favorite word is dammit.”
Drake chortles. “That’s the truth.”
———
LEO
Regina’s heels clack noisily against the wooden steps as she joins Riley and me on the landing. 
“I recall calling your other residence quaint,” Regina’s lips twitch. “Your personality was nowhere to be found there.”
Regina gestures to the large black and white photo Riley had framed and insisted on hanging in the entryway. It’s my first win. She didn’t even know me then, but she said it was important. It was a massive deal to me, but I was surprised she wanted it to be one of the first things you see when you walk in. Riley kissed me and said it should have been framed sooner.
It’s incredible having someone in my corner, who’s proud of me. 
A second photo hangs beside it. My last win, the last race with Mark’s team. Below it, Riley and I, seconds later. Her arms are around my neck, mine around her waist. I lifted her off the ground; her hair swirled around our faces as we kissed. 
“I can see you here,” Regina nods approvingly. “Both of you.”
Riley’s cheeks flush ever so slightly. “Is that a compliment or…”
Regina laughs and takes Riley’s hand between hers, patting it. “It’s the highest praise. I am thrilled to have you as part of the family, dear.”
Regina releases Riley’s hand and blinks up at me. “I am also thrilled that you live close by, Leo. It means so much to Liam and I. Your father as well.”
Constantine doesn’t care. I’ll ignore that. I clock him out of the corner of my eye, nodding at something Simon is saying. I should save him.
“I never thought I would,” I admit. “It’s nice being a ferry ride away.”
“You burned the first pancake,” Regina lowers her voice. “You certainly took your time, but you managed to get rid of it. Thank god.”
Riley coughs to hide a laugh, but I have no idea what Regina is talking about. Pancakes? Has the woman ever cooked?
“What?” I can't figure out what my stepmother means.
“The first pancake,” Regina gestures. “It’s practice to see how hot the pan is. You use it as a guideline for the rest of the batch. It usually burns, so I’m told, and you throw it in the bin.”
So she’s told? Who told her that? 
“Who said that?”
“Christine,” Regina sniffs the air. “I’m famished, if you’ll excuse me.”
Regina taps her way to the dining room where we’ve put all the hors d'oeuvres.
“Regina and my mother talk?” Riley whispers. “She hasn’t said one word to me, and we text almost every day!”
We’re all going to Kansas for Christmas this year. Riley is almost looking forward to it. I can’t wait. I want to see where she grew up and learn more about Kansas Riley.
Her mom will also be off her back because we’ll be engaged. 
“I’d say it’s going well if Regina is quoting her,” I bring Riley’s left hand to my lips, kissing her bare ring finger. “Let’s get food and rescue Simon.”
“Are you okay with your dad here?” Riley lowers her voice as we move closer to the group in the dining room. “I can kick him or something.”
I laugh softly. “I appreciate that, but I’m good.”
I wouldn’t have chosen to have Constantine around when I propose to Riley, but maybe it’ll make him so mad he leaves immediately.
“I wish Regina brought Landon,” Riley says wistfully. “He’s fun, and he makes her loosen up.”
Gross. I keep trying to forget I know. It’s difficult because I see Landon a few times a week. He does make Regina less … Regina. She even dresses differently when he’s around. 
“We agreed never to speak of it,” I stop a few feet from my dad. “I don’t want to know.”
“You were trying to figure it out,” Riley argues, and she’s not wrong. “It’s sweet.”
“No, it’s not!” My voice is too loud, but luckily no one seems to hear me. “I love you, but no.”
Riley snickers. “I love you, too.”
Riley kisses my cheek and I turn my head to catch her lips. Peace. That’s what I feel with her. We still have some intense fights, a few where she’s left for a couple hours to cool off. But we work through them. It’s not perfect, but I know she loves me. She never tries to change me, or lecture me. She loves who I am and I love who she is. It’s all I could have asked for. 
———
RILEY
“I’ll be right there,” Leo murmurs into my ear. “I’m going to move all the dishes into the kitchen.”
I survey the table, plates, and forks and empty cookware litter the surface. “Want help?”
Leo shakes his head. “I got it. You won’t even notice I’m gone.”
“Impossible,” I smile and brush my lips across his cheek. 
“Let me grab dessert, and I’ll meet you all in the living room,” I announce as I stand. “The bar cart is set up; help yourself.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Drake hurriedly gets to his feet. Constantine kept trying to talk to him during dinner. It’s very awkward, and I don’t know what to make of his attempts to be nice, but as long as he isn’t a dick, I don’t care.
I pull the tray of mini cheesecakes from the refrigerator and set them on the counter. “Are you sure you don’t want help?”
Leo turns on the tap, filling a pan with water. “Go play hostess. I’m right behind you.”
Leo keeps shoving his hand in his pocket and exhaling. Even now, he’s drumming his fingertips on the counter.
“Is your dad really bothering you?” I lower my voice. “I’m not kidding; I’ll kick his ass out.”
Leo shuts off the tap and wraps one arm around me, kissing the top of my head. “I’m fine, I promise.”
Something is going on, but I'm not getting to the bottom of it now. He’ll talk when everyone goes home.
“Okay,” I pull him into a hug. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Leo buries his face in my hair. 
I look back twice before I reluctantly cross the hall to the living room. Luca is in the archway, taking in all the details. I set the tray down on the end table next to the bar cart and stand beside him. 
“I love this space,” Luca gushes. “Usually, all this color all over this place comes off as too much. You make it work.”
“That means a lot, coming from you,” I thread my arm through his. “I miss your house sometimes. It was so cool.”
“It was,” Luca agrees, dropping into the overstuffed green chair beside the sofa. “I’m excited to do it all over again. Max and I are looking for a fixer-upper. Not right away, but maybe in a year or so.”
Max and Luca live near Domvallier. It’s close to Rashad’s office; Luca’s the chief financial officer of his company. William Sloane sold his shares and moved to Paris, and Rashad took over. He seems pretty happy. 
Constantine appears, and I have to stop myself from flinching. I didn’t hear him coming.
“Lady Riley,” Constantine bows slightly, and my eyebrows shoot up. “Your home is lovely. Thank you for including me.”
I didn’t, or we didn’t. Regina must have told him he was invited. 
“You’re welcome,” I say with a fake smile. I don’t mean it. “Are you leaving?”
Damn. That was a little harsher than I meant it. 
“I wanted to apologize,” Constantine lowers his voice. “It was wrong of me to attempt to interfere. I assumed you wanted the crown and that your intentions were selfishly motivated. I see now that I was wrong.”
My eyes widen. I didn’t see that coming. Not even a little bit. 
“I am glad my plan went awry,” Constantine continues. “That you were not harmed. Simple words won’t take away what could have happened, but they need to be said.”
My throat constricts. Constantine isn’t that good of an actor; he’s not lying. 
“I appreciate that,” I trail off. I don’t know what else to say; my brain is blank. Maybe Liam and Drake having a baby put everything into perspective for him? 
Constantine bows again. “I must find Leo before I depart. Good night, Lady Riley.”
“Good night,” I watch Constantine whisper to Regina before he stands in the doorway, waiting for Leo, I guess. 
I need a drink. I pour a glass of wine from the bar cart and lower to the sofa. 
Lucy sits in the large tufted ottoman in front of me. We use it as a table most of the time. 
“Where’s Leo disappeared to?” Lucy whispers. “Does that mean I can tell embarrassing stories?”
I listen, cocking my head to one side. I don’t hear any noise coming from the kitchen. “I think he’s outside? He might have needed a minute.”
I nod toward Constantine’s back. Lucy gets it. 
———
LEO
I slip in the back door, hoping no one noticed I went outside. I walk down the hall to the living room; Riley was on our giant sofa when I ducked out; I almost love it more than our bed. It fits about eight people and is dark purple velvet. It matches the tiger and peacock jungle wallpaper. 
If we ever move, we’ll have a lot of work to do. We’re set for a while. We have enough extra space for at least two kids. 
I’m getting ahead of myself; I need to propose first. 
“Leo,” my dad appears, and I stop in my tracks. It throws me off when he’s not in his regalia. He isn’t even wearing a tie, just a dress shirt, and slacks. I wonder if his arrangement buddy makes him happy like Regina is with Landon.
No. Shut it down. I do not want to know. I bet it’s Adelaide.
“Dad?” It comes out as a question. I’ve been avoiding him all night.
Constantine puts his hand on my shoulder. “Congratulations on your new home. I wanted to say good night before I returned to the palace; I have an early meeting.”
What is happening? He can’t mean that. 
“Uh, thanks,” I manage to say. “Good night.”
Turns out my dad isn’t done talking.
“I understand that I have been difficult,” Constantine continues. “I wanted to ensure that Cordonia was in good hands, and as a result, it has fractured my relationship with both my sons.”
I don’t even try to hide my shock. “You what?”
“I would like to start again, to repair the damage I have caused,” Constantine clasps his hands together. “I don’t expect an answer now. I only ask that you give it some thought.”
“Okay,” I say lamely. I don’t know what else to do. 
Constantine nods and turns on his heel. I follow him to the front door and watch him get into an SUV. At least he won’t be here when I propose.
“Where have you been?” Simon pipes up behind me. 
I shake myself. I can think about that weirdness later. I’ll talk to Riley about it. And Liam. I wonder if he told Liam all that too. 
“I had a few housekeeping things to do,” my shoulders relax, and I slap Simon on the arm. “Everyone still in the living room?”
Simon nods, and we head back down the hallway. “Lucy was relaying the story of the first circuit when you almost got left behind in Italy.”
I went snorkeling and lost track of time. I never did that again. 
“I saw a turtle,” I grin as Riley comes into view. She’s on one side of the couch, her legs crossed. 
“Leo,” Riley calls out, patting the spot beside her. “I saved you a seat.”
I sit beside her, and she leans against me. She rests her hand on my thigh, and I interlace our fingers. 
Home. It’s wherever Riley is, but we created a physical home together here. It’s our safe place.
“Leo,” Lucy lifts a glass of sparkling water in my direction. “I was just talking about you.”
“I heard,” I raise an eyebrow. Lucy’s almost three months pregnant, Simon told me last week. They aren’t announcing yet. Everyone is settling down. Even Rashad has a girlfriend. There was a time when this would make me uncomfortable, thinking about having a child with the K word. 
Now, it doesn’t seem bad at all. I’m looking forward to whatever life has in store for Riley and me.
“Not to dampen the mood,” Regina leans on the arm of the chair she’s perched in. “But are you aware of the headlines regarding your former … partner?”
Riley and I both sit up a little straighter. I squeeze her hand. 
“No,” Riley frowns. “Do we want to know?”
A wide smile crosses Regina’s face. “I believe you do.”
Luca laughs so hard that he almost falls off the chair. “She wrote a tell-all?”
“The parts of her life with Leo were omitted,” Regina nods at Liam. “It’s about her childhood, the scandal with Mr. Thorne, and her current husband.”
“She’s still married?” Riley’s mouth falls open. “I thought she’d divorce him as soon as she could, based on what Leo told me.”
I thought Katie would go to the press and cry about how she was trapped. She might have, I don’t keep track of her. I did read that Reagan was disbarred and ended up doing a little time in prison. 
“I suspect that Trent would have tried to squeeze every penny he could from her,” Regina sips her wine. She’s not wrong. “Instead, they have an open marriage, and he has an allowance.”
“Wow,” Riley exhales. “I bet she isn’t pitching that story as a movie.”
That’s everything Katie didn’t want. She wanted a close family and a man who loved her for more than her money. I can’t feel bad for her, despite my dad lying to her about annulling her marriage to Trent. People get what they deserve. I wasn’t the greatest husband to her at the end, but I tried. She didn’t. 
“It sounds like everything worked out for Trent,” I quip. Liam chuckles. 
I study Riley from the corner of my eye. Her mouth is set in a thin line. She told me once she hated Katie for treating me so badly. She wishes she’d been meaner, but that’s not Riley. She handled all of that better than anyone else would have.
I bring her hand to my lips and her mouth turns up in a smile. 
“I’m not mentioned?” Luca wipes under his eye. “I’m wounded.”
“You’re in my second book,” Maxwell pats his back. “As the handsome stranger who wins the heart of the intrepid Thorsten Fairmont.”
“Do I get a cool name like everyone else?” Luca smirks. Maxwell nods and kisses his forehead softly.
“What’s your second book about, Max?” Drake eyes him warily. He wasn’t thrilled about the first book. All the names were changed, and Riley wasn’t in it, as promised. But anybody who paid attention to the season can figure out who is who. 
“I can’t wait to read it,” Liam chimes in. “I enjoyed the first one.”
“The theme is happily ever afters,” Maxwell sighs dreamily. “Blossom is in it too, and Leo.”
“What?” Riley and I ask in unison. 
“Hey!” Maxwell jumps up from the chair. “We haven’t seen the backyard!”
Max is trying to change the subject, but how did he manage to say exactly what I was going to bring up in about ten minutes? I didn’t tell anyone I was proposing.
“You’re right,” I get to my feet and reach for Riley. “I need to stretch my legs anyway.”
“Okay,” Riley shrugs and walks beside me down the short hallway, everyone else filing into a line behind her. 
I swing open the door as Riley continues. “There’s not a lot back there. Some plants and-”
Riley gasps, her hand flying to her mouth. “When did you do this?”
The backyard is full of flowers. Every single bouquet I’ve ever sent her is arranged in a large semi-circle in the middle of the grass. A row of LED tea lights surrounds them.
“Just after dinner,” I lead her down the stone steps to stand in the middle. 
Riley’s looking at the flowers, turning a little to study each bouquet. “These are all the flowers you’ve given me. Every single kind.”
It’s a ton of flowers. I send her bouquets of roses and other flowers I think she’ll like twice a week. I tried every day again once we got off the circuit, and she told me it was a beautiful thought, but excessive.
I feel in my pocket for the ring. “It felt right.”
I lower to one knee.
“Leo!” Riley’s hands fly over her mouth. “What the fuck?”
The moonlight makes her glow. She looks like some kind of angel. 
I grin up at her. “I thought it had to be perfect when I asked you to marry me. It does have to, because you deserve nothing but perfection. But I kept putting it off, it never felt like the right moment.”
A tear slips down Riley's cheek, and I reach up to wipe it away.  
“I realized I wanted to ask you to be mine forever in front of the people we love,” I clear my throat, the lump in it makes my voice hoarse. 
“Our timing always seemed off,” I take her hand, massaging her fingers with mine. “I used to think I was cursed; how could I meet you at the wrong time? Why wasn’t it sooner?”
Riley squeezes my hand, her lips lifting in a watery smile.
“We met at the right time,” I continue, grinning so hard my face hurts. “You made me see everything I needed to change, how I wasn’t happy. You believed in me, even when we weren’t together.”
Riley’s eyes fill, and her grip on my hand tightens.
“I’m so lucky to have you,” I rub the length of her forefinger with my thumb. “I’ll never stop trying to make you happy or give you everything.”
Tears are running down Riley’s cheeks. They’re happy tears, but I didn’t want to make her cry. 
“You’re irreplaceable,” I try my best to keep my own tears back. I feel overwhelmed in the best way. “My life doesn’t make sense without you in it.”
“Leo,” Riley cups my face, her thumb tracing my cheek. “I love you so much.”
“I love you more than I can ever properly express,” I pull the ring box from my pocket and pop it open. “Will you marry me?”
Riley doesn’t even look at the ring before answering, her eyes are locked on mine. “A fucking million times, yes!”
I slip the ring on her finger and stand, and she jumps into my arms. I hold her tightly, capturing her lips with mine. 
“I didn’t think you wanted to get married,” Riley whispers between heated kisses. “I knew we’d be together forever. That's all I want.”
“I was trying not to propose at Liam’s wedding,” I kiss her again. “I did a little too well trying to throw you off.” 
“That’s for sure,” Riley finally tears her eyes from me to look at the ring. Her eyes fill with tears again. “It’s so beautiful. It’s exactly what I would have picked if I were buying a giant ring.”
I chuckle and kiss her cheek, her nose, before capturing her lips with mine again. “I saw it and knew it was for you.”
Loud cheers erupt from the patio. I look up at the small crowd of people. Our people.
Liam’s voice carries across the lawn. “May I make Riley a duchess now?”
Liam’s offered to title Riley at least six times. She turns him down very kindly, but she’s going to crack soon. The other day, she talked about how Liam said it wouldn’t change anything, that it’s important for him as a symbol of how she’ll always be family or something. 
I don’t care if she’s a duchess. She’s first and foremost Riley, the love of my life.
Riley giggles, and I kiss her nose. “He’s not going to stop asking, you know.”
“I know,” I set Riley down, wrapping my arm around her waist. 
I can’t help but stare at her. She’s almost radiating with happiness. My eyes run down her body appreciatively.
“You’re still not subtle,” Riley says softly, with nothing but love and humor in her voice.
“Never going to be,” I kiss her palm. “Not when it comes to you.”
Riley’s eyes crinkle. “You’re irreplaceable too, Leo. My life would be so empty without you.”
That’s not true. Riley would have a full life with people she loves and who love her no matter what. But she believes the words, I can tell. It’s all I’ve ever dreamt of, for someone to love me the way she does. 
“We’ll never find out what that looks like,” I swivel to face Riley. “Me and you, Riles.”
“Me and you,” she repeats before our lips meet.
———
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@weetlebeetle gifted me this art of Irreplaceable Leo x Riley in their casino outfits back in December, and I’m so in love with the way she draws my OTP 💕 Thank you again ❤️❤️
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Tags: Perma: @ao719 @appleone @burnsoslow @charlotteg234 @choiceskatie @differenttyphoonwerewolf @emkay512 @foreverethereal123 @gabesmommie1130 @gardeningourmet @iaminlovewithtrr @imashybish @kat-tia801 @kingliam2019 @ladyangel70 @lovingchoices14 @lunaseasblog @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @mom2000aggie @nestledonthaveone @originaljudgepiepaper @pixelatedpassion @platapirexy @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @queenmiarys @queenwalton @royalpest @tessa-liam @trrfanaddict @3pawandme @txemrn @21-wishes
Leo x Riley: @mywildheartremains
TRR/TRH: @jared2612 @malblk21
Irreplaceable: @irisk12 @liamxs-world @walker7519
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