#drake walker appreciation

[karahalloway]

Uncharted: Tales from the Gypsea - Surf's Up!

Fandom: TRR

Series: Uncharted: Tales from the Gypsea

Pairing: Drake Walker x Harper Gale (F!OC)

Synopsis: While on their honeymoon, Harper takes Drake out of his comfort zone with an unexpected birthday surprise...

Word Count: 5,000 (which is about 3,000 words longer than anticipated, but H&D always run away from me, so here we are 😅)

Rating/Warnings: E (swearing in multiple languages, a few lemon-scented moments, extreme sports)

A/N1: So… this was not what I was supposed to be working on… 😅 But when @petiteboheme sent me a video of Bruno Santos (my FC for Drake) trying hydroboarding (also known as jetblading) for the first time, and demanding that I write a version featuring Drake and Harper, I couldn’t say ‘no’. And since (a) it's the summer, and (b) I haven't written a birthday fic for Drake this year yet, I instantly got a brainwave and dove right in! Hope you enjoy!

A/N2: As mentioned in the Author’s Notes for this series, this fic takes place during Harper and Drake's honeymoon. I HC that Drake’s birthday falls on June 6th, so this mini-adventure would take place approx. midway through the trip.

A/N3: This fic ended up featuring quite a lot of Italian, so as per usual, translations below. I also have a few other general notes at then end.

A/N4: This is also my submission for @choicesjunechallenge, prompts Summer, Vacation, Surf, Beach, Love.

"Rise and shine, sleepy-head," I murmur softly, feathering kisses along the side of Drake's neck.

He groans under his breath, pulling himself out of the depths of slumber with some difficulty. "That's my line, Gale."

"Well, I'm stealing it," I reply impishly, leaning over him to catch his lips with mine. "Especially since I'm up before you for once."

"Obviously, I didn't do a good enough job last night," he grumbles against my mouth, even as he snakes his hand onto my backside to pull my naked body on top of his.

"Oh, don't worry — you did," I assure him, dropping tiny kisses down his chest. "Just like the night before..." My teeth graze his abs. "And the night before that..."

A low sound rattles his throat as I move lower. "The circumstantial evidence indicates otherwise..."

"I needed a way to grab your attention," I tell him sweetly, pausing just above the much more pronounced tan line that circled his hips.

"Oh, you most certainly got it," he confirms, all vestiges of sleep now banished from his countenance as he looks down at me hungrily.

"Good," I declare, drawing myself back up to his eye-level. "Because I have something for you."

"Oh, yeah?" he smirks with a cocked brow, running his palms up my bare thighs in anticipation.

"Yup," I affirm, leaning over him to reach into the recess on the wall behind the bed.

His eyes widen as I pull out the rectangular-shaped item wrapped in Marvel superhero logo emblazoned wrapping paper. "Wait. You didn't—"

"Happy birthday!" I pronounce, holding the present out to him triumphantly.

He greets my offering with a seriously unimpressed glare. "Gale, I told you that—"

"—you don't want any presents, I shouldn't make a big deal out of it, we're on our honeymoon, blah-blah-blah." I fix him with a deadpan look. "Well, guess what, bud? You don't have a choice. Because I want to celebrate the day you were born."

He scoffs. "Oh, so my birthday's all about you, huh?"

"No," I counter. "It's all about you. And I think I did a pretty good job last year. So, how 'bout you trust me for a change?"

He heaves a beleaguered breath. "Can't we just—?"

"Nope!" I interject, thrusting the parcel into his face.

He rolls his eyes as he finally takes the present. "The things I do for you, girl..."

"Don't you mean the things I do for you?" I counter meaningfully.

He hits me with level look as he scoots himself into a sitting position. "We could both be doing each other right now if—"

"Oh, my God, you're impossible!" I cry exasperatedly, even as I fail to suppress a snort of amusement. "Just open it already!"

"Maybe I like the anticipation..."

I smack him on the chest.

"Christ, I married a bullbat!" he huffs.

"Who you love unconditionally," I remind him. "So, I know you'll love this."

He quirks a sceptical brow as he finds the edge of the folded paper and starts to peel it open. "You sound damn sure of yourself..."

"I have reason to be confident," I say, folding my arms with a wink.

He shakes his head at me as he finishes opening his present. But I can see the smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

The last of the wrapping paper falls away, and he frowns. "You got me... a photo frame?"

"Turn it over," I prompt, trying to contain the butterflies flapping around in my stomach.

He’s gonna like it — I’m sure of it. But... there's always a tiny part of you that insists on throwing all the worst-case scenarios at you, making you doubt yourself.

He flips the frame over...

...and silence falls on the cabin as his expression goes blank.

I bite my bottom lip, waiting for him to say something, to react in some kind of way, but he is as immobile as a statue, giving no indication of his state of mind.

Finally, I can't take it any more. "Do you—?"

"When did you do this?" he demands hoarsely.

"When we were last in port," I tell him. "I went to that pharmacy t—"

"But we don't have the pictures from the wedding yet," he cuts in, voice still tight.

"You mean, you don't have the pictures from the wedding yet," I grin. "I asked Max to put a rush on that one so it would be ready for your birthday."

"Christ, Harper," he breathes, eyes brimming with sudden emotion as he pulls me into him. "Remind me never to play poker with you..."

"I'll take that as a compliment," I say, wrapping my arms around him. "So, does that mean I managed to surprise you?"

"Every goddamn day," he says into my hair, squeezing me tight. "'Cause the fact that you're here with me at all is still pretty un-fuckin'-believeable..."

"Well, you did put a ring on it, so..." I waggle the fingers of my left hand at him.

He smacks me on the ass. "You know what I mean..."

I snort into his neck.

"But seriously," he says, pushing me back up so we were face-to-face again. "I love it. I honestly didn't even realise we had any pictures of us... let alone so many."

"Sometimes you gotta capture that moment in between," I tell him with a coy shrug.

His expression cracks. "God, I love you..."

Yanking me to down, his lips claim mine in a passionate, searing kiss that is dizzying in its intensity.

I sigh happily, melting against him.

And even though I would've loved nothing more than to lose myself in him, out here, in the middle of the ocean, for the umpteenth time since the start of this trip, our love-making’s going to have to wait.

Because today calls for a very different kind of celebration.

So, before Drake has a chance to pull us both into what’s — very clearly! — his preferred form of revelment, I break off the kiss.

His eyes snap open to meet mine. "Gale, what are you—?"

"No rest for the wicked, cowboy," I declare, jumping off him. "It's your 28th birthday and we have things to do, and places to be!"

His face drains of colour. "Sweet fuckin' Jesus, girl... You didn't organise a party, did you?"

I choke back a laugh at the sight of the sheer horror in his eyes. "You really think I'd do that to you, Walker?"

"Well, you clearly have no compunction 'bout leaving a man high and dry on his birthday," he objects sourly, gesturing at his arousal that’s now flying very much at full mast. "So, apparently anything goes."

"Don't worry," I assure him, pausing in the doorway to the bathroom. "There's no party. But we are running behind schedule, so you need to get your butt out of bed and move the boat, Cap'n."

"She's a 37-foot sailing yacht..." he grumbles, running his hand down his face, "not a—"

"Chop-chop, Walker!" I prompt, disappearing into the bathroom with a clap of my hands. "Nobody's gettin' any younger here!"

He flops back onto the pillows with a pained groan. "Christ alive..."

"So?" I ask an hour or so later around a mouthful of Eggs Benedict, sitting on the patio of an unassuming little bistro in St. Julian's, on the island of Malta. "Did I pick well?"

Drake spears the last of his own breakfast. "See or hear any complaints?"

"Worth getting out of bed for?"

He quirks a brow at me as he settles back into his chair. "Now that might be a stretch..."

I punt him under the table.

"Hey," he objects, dodging out of the way. "I said it was good. But would I trade the chicken and waffles for an extra hour in bed with you? Every time."

"Hmm..." I say, stirring the remainder of my freshly squeezed orange juice with my straw. "Sounds like I need to try harder next time."

He meets my eye over the rim of his coffee cup. "You can try... But you've set a damn high bar for yourself, girl."

I click my tongue as I set the glass back onto the table. "Well, the day isn't over yet, cowboy. I may still be able to surpass myself."

"Tough odds, Gale," he assures me with a smirk. "Tough odds."

"How was everything?" asks the sever, appearing to clear our plates away.

"Really good!" I say. "I'm stuffed!"

"And you, sir?"

"It hit the spot," Drake acknowledges, flicking a contented look my way.

"Glad to hear!" the server replies as she stacks the empty crockery together. "Can I get you another refill, or—?"

"Just the bill, please," I interject, reaching for my purse. "We're running a bit late."

"No problem," she replies. "I'll print it off right away. Cash or card?"

"Car—"

"Cash," interjects Drake, holding some Euros out. "And you can keep the change."

I whirl on him in bewilderment. "But—"

"Th-thanks," stammers the server, clearly surprised by the size of the tip Drake has just given her. "Did you still want the receipt?"

"Nah, we're good," advises Drake, pushing his chair back. "The wife says we're running late, so that means we're running late."

"Okay, I won't keep you then! Have a good rest of your day!"

"But—" I try again, but the server has already stuffed the cash into her apron and turned away.

"Up-and-at-'em, Gale," prompts Drake, holding his hand out. "You said we gotta get moving so—"

"But, I was going to pay for breakfast!" I object, grabbing my bag and taking his proffered assistance to help me stand.

"Well, I beat you to it," he shrugs, looping his fingers through mine as he navigates us through the labyrinth of tables that dotted the bistro's patio. "Plus, you'd've been shafted on the bank charges and the exchange rate, so—"

"But it's your birthday!" I press. "I wanted to treat you for a change!"

"Trust me, you did," he assures me with a smile, giving my hand a squeeze. "You found a place in the Med that does chicken and waffles for breakfast. If that's not a treat, I dunno what is."

I feel myself blush under the sincerity of his gaze. "So, you did like it."

"'Course I did," he affirms, twirling me to a stop in front of him. "Even if I had to eat dirt for breakfast, I'd enjoy it if I got to do it with you. You're the silver lining around everything, mon coeur."

I feel my throat tighten as I gaze up at him. "Drake..."

"And the money?" He reaches up to stroke my face with a nonchalant shrug. "That's all relative. We're married now, so what's mine is yours and vice-versa. There's no need to keep tabs on who pays for what and when."

I'm suddenly powerless in the face of his caress. "If you say so, Mr. Walker."

"It's my birthday," he confirms, cupping my face in his hands. "So, I do say so... Mrs. Gale-Walker."

Leaning in, he tilts my chin up. My eyes shudder closed as his lips meet mine softly, tenderly, like a lapping wave kissing the shoreline. But with each surge, that wave crests in size and strength until it becomes a riptide of passion that threatens to swallow us completely.

"Christ, I'll never get tired of saying that," he breathes between one inrush and the next.

"It was... definitely a hard... fought accomplishment," I agree haltingly, gripping his hair in an effort to keep myself from being swept away by his sudden fervour.

He swallows a groan as my body arcs into his. "All the more reason...to celebrate the crap out of it."

My eyes snap open. "Celebrate...! Shit! We're late for your—"

"Screw that," he growls, tightening his hold on me. "I'm takin' you back to the boat."

"Thought it was... a sailing yacht," I gasp as he underscores his intent by pulling me flush against the hardness of his body.

"Not the point," he replies dismissively, scrunching the material of my romper between his fingers as his stubble brushes the shell of my ear. "'Cause I'm still gonna fuck you over every inch of the deck."

"After!" I tell him, distracting him with a kiss on his cheek as I spin out of his grasp.

His head drops back to stare up at the sky. "Putain de bordel de—"

"Come on!" I shout over my shoulder at him, already pegging it down towards the marina.

He grumbles something testily under his breath before reluctantly obliging.

Dodging around locals and tourists, we manage to make it down to the bottom of the hill where the island gave way to Spinola Bay just as the various clock-towers around the city begin to toll the hour.

"Crap!" I exclaim, throwing my head around as I try to speed-read the various signs suspended over the promenade. "Which one is it?"

Drake comes to a stop next to me. "Gale, what are y—?"

"There it is!" I cry, grabbing his hand to haul him after me.

"Sweet Jesus, girl!" he huffs. "Will you just—?"

He cusses again as he very nearly avoids running me over as I suddenly pull us up in front of a squat building.

"Ta-da!" I exclaim, throwing my arm dramatically out at the black-and-red façade of the water sports rental place that we just arrived at.

"Okay...?" he says hesitantly, eyeing the store front dubiously. "And we're here because...?"

"You'll see!" I proclaim, pulling him into the minuscule space inside the door.

"Oh, for fuck's s—!"

The two guys manning the counter look up at the sound of our whirlwind arrival.

Laying eyes on me, both of their faces break into that trademark Mediterranean smile I've found myself on the receiving end of more times than I could count since the start of this trip.

"Ciao, bella!" cries one by way of greeting, stepping out from behind the counter. "Can we help you?"

"Ciao, yes. I'm Harper," I say, holding my hand out. "I spoke to one of you on the phone yesterday?"

The guy's eyes light up as he grabs my hand eagerly. "Ah, sì! Harper! I remember!" Bending down, he lays an enthusiastic kiss on my knuckles. "You spoke to me! I'm Mario."

I nod in affirmation. "Yes, I—"

"And this is my brother, Luca!" continues Mario with typical Italian excitement, throwing a hand on the other guy's shoulder to yank him into my eye-line.

"Come stai?" he asks, grabbing my hand out of his brothers grasp to drop a loud smooch on it as well.

"Sto bene, grazie," I reply graciously.

Mario and Luca stare at me in bewilderment before simultaneously lighting up in wonder. "Ah! Sorprendente! Parla italiano? Hai un così bell'accento! Tu che sembri—"

"And, this is Drake," I add in English, somewhat apologetically, having exhausted my limited Italian. "My husband."

The brothers' faces fall. "Ah. Piacere."

Drake nods passively in reply.

"So... you, ah, wanted to have Full Flight experience?" asks Mario, clearing his throat as he resumes his place behind the counter.

"Yes," I respond, digging into my bag for my phone. "The 30 minute package. I have the confirmation email, if—"

"No, no!" interjects Mario with a wave of his hand as he clicks the Apple desktop screen to life. "I have you in system already. And you paid full amount yesterday, so you only need to sign waiver before start of your lesson."

"Great!" I say, dropping my phone back into the bag's pocket as Luca hands me a double sided piece of paper. "You have a pen?"

Two sets of biros are thrust instant in my direction.

"Thanks," I say bemusedly.

Turning back to Drake, I see him looking at me with a raised brow.

"Full flight experience, Gale?" he asks dryly. "We signing our life away to go parasailing or something?"

"Nope," I reply, passing him the waiver and the pen with a grin. "Just you. Because you're about to go hydroboarding."

His eyes snap up to mine. "Hydro-what-now?"

"Hydroboarding," I repeat. "Also known as jet-blading. Think Iron Man thrusters on your feet, but powered by water instead of... whatever it is that powers Iron Man's thrusters."

"Repulsors," he supplies dryly as he scans the waiver. "And you thought this was a good idea because...?"

"Because it's your birthday and I wanted to surprise you with something that you haven't tried before and therefore wouldn't be expecting!"

"Well, you certainly managed to score on both of those fronts," he mutters, scribbling his details on the form.

I lean into him seductively. "I told you I'd be able to surpass myself."

He glances up from the page. "Don't jump the gun, baby. I'm not out on the water yet."

"Like I said this morning," I purr against his ear. "I have reason to feel confident."

A low growl rumbles in his throat as he dashes his signature on the form.

"Bene!" cries Mario, snatching the waiver away. "If you follow Luca to the back, he will give you helmet and wetsuit in your size."

"Wetsuit?" queries Drake, dropping the pen on the counter. "Seriously?"

"All part of the package, darling," I tell him with a pat on his back as we file after Luca.

Drake groans audibly. "You're walking a fine line, girl..."

"You know me, Walker..." I smirk. "I'm all about the high-octane thrills!"

"Good," he says, throwing me a heated look over his shoulder. "Because when we get back to the yacht, I'm still plannin' on taking you all the way to cloud nine."

I meet his eye. "That a promise?"

His mouth pulls into a cocky grin. "It's a gold-plated guarantee."

"So, this is equipment room," declares Luca, coming to a stop in the middle of a tightly packed space that was filled to the brim with various pieces of water-sporting gear. "We have helmets, wetsuits, life jackets in all sizes. You look like you're a pretty fit guy so—"

"La mia taglia la so," interjects Drake, striding over to a rack of wetsuits.

Luca's eyes widen.

"He's been diving before," I say by way of explanation.

"Noto," comes the po-faced acknowledgment as Drake rifles critically through the options. "And I see now where you learn to speak Italian."

"Learning," I correct. "It's a bit of a slow process."

"Salvagente?" asks Drake, turning back to the room with his selection.

Luca indicates towards the far wall.

Crossing the floor, Drake quickly picks out a life jacket, and a helmet as well.

"Lo spogliatoio è laggiù," advises Luca, pointing to a haphazardly hung curtain in the corner.

"Grazie," nods Drake, carrying his armload of stuff over.

"Do you... need me to hold onto anything?" I ask.

"Nah, I'm good," he replies, stepping behind the curtain. "Be out in a minute."

"Okay."

"So, you come to Malta for holiday?" asks Luca inquisitively, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of having to wait in silence.

"Honeymoon," I reply, tucking my hair behind my ear.

"Ahh!" he exclaims, throwing his hands up into the air. "Congratulazioni! Your husband is very lucky guy!"

"Thanks," I say with a simile. "I feel the same way about him."

"How you two meet?"

"Erm... it's a bit of a long story, but we met in New York."

"Ah, sì! New York!" he nods enthusiastically. "The Big Melon!"

I frown. "Normally it's called the Big Apple, but—"

The sound of metal rings jingling on the curtain pole draw my attention.

Turning my head, I see Drake step out from the changing area and I can't help but snort.

He quirks a brow as he adjusts the chin strap on his helmet. "Somethin' funny, Gale?"

"No," I say, trying to recollect my composure. "I... I've just never seen you with so much gear on."

"Well, it's a bit overkill, if you ask me," he declares, grabbing his clothes and shoes from the floor.

"You do look ready for some serious spelunking..."

"Let me guess?" he drawls, handing me his stuff. "That's my birthday present for next year?"

I swallow down another snort as I drop his things in my tote. "Do you want it to be?"

His mocha eyes meet mine. "Only if you're coming with me."

"You got yourself a deal, cowboy," I say with a grin, pushing myself up on my toes to give him a kiss. "Now go live it up as Iron Man."

"Whatever you say, Miss Potts," he smirks with a wink, giving my backside a clandestine squeeze before turning to Luca. "Quindi cosa dopo?"

"Suegitemi," he prompts, heading back to the front of the store.

"Y'know," whispers Drake into my ear as we follow after Luca, "it's not too late for you to ditch that romper and get gussied up too."

"Nice try, Walker," I laugh. "But like I said — this day is all about you, so I'm more than happy to sit this one out so I can capture your escapades on film."

"Fine," he grumbles. "But I'm gettin' my own back for your birthday."

"I expect nothing less," I grin as Luca leads us out onto the jetty, where Mario is already waiting for us.

"Ah! Bellissimo!" he enthuses upon our approach. But his face suddenly falls as his eyes land on me. "Harper! You change your mind? You don't want to go flying?"

"Oh, no," I say with a chuckle. "This was a surprise for Drake."

"Ahh!" nods Mario in understanding. "You want to use husband as hamster first. Smart lady!"

"Actually—"

But Mario has already turned his attention onto his student. "So. Mr Drake. Like English pirate, yes?"

"Era un corsaro, non un pirata," replies Drake.

"Ah-ha!" exclaims Mario, clapping Drake on the shoulder. "So, it is you who are the secret Italian! But why English name?"

"Perché sono mezzo americano," explains Drake. "Ma mia madre è di Cordonia e anche io sono cresciuto lì."

"Ah, sì... Cordonia," muses Mario. "Bel paese. Belle donne."

As Drake continues conversing with the brothers in their native language, I take the opportunity to slip my phone out of my bag and take some pictures of the three of them, as well as the sparkling bay behind us.

Malta had not been on the list of destinations for this trip, but it had been the only place that offered hydroboarding. So, when it had popped up as an option during my online hunt for birthday surprises for Drake, I’d know I I had to convince him to make the detour south.

And honestly? It hasbeen worth it. The little island was a true jewel of the Mediterranean with craggy limestone cliffs plunging into azure-blue bays so clear you could see to the bottom, while the small towns that dotted the coast literally made you feel like you stepped back in time as you wandered the meandering cobblestone streets lined with imposing baroque buildings.

Stowing my phone away, I turn back to the men and see that they are now in the process of showing Drake how to use the hydroboard, which really does look like the wayward parts of Tony Stark's suit. And while I can’t understand any of the fast-paced Italian, I’m able to pick up the general gist from the non-verbal parts of the demo: dip your toes down to go forwards, straighten back up to stop or rise higher, and lean to the side to turn.

Drake is nodding along intently, dropping a few questions here and there, but before long, Luca is strapping the device to his feet, and latching on the tube that would supply the water to the thrusters via the jet ski's propulsion system.

"All set?" I ask as he prepares to drop into the water.

"We're about to find out," he replies while Luca helps lower him off the pier.

"Have fun!" I call down to him.

"Harper!"

I snap my head up at the sound of my name.

Mario beckoning to me from atop his jet ski. "Jump on! Capitano Drake said you wanted to take pictures — best spot is from the water."

"But I'm not dressed for swimming," I say, gesturing at my romper.

"Don't worry!" he laughs. "I promised your husband I will take good care of you. You won't fall in."

"Okay, sure!" I nod with a grin, slipping out of my sandals. Opening up my tote, I drop my shoes in and extract my phone before stowing the bag behind a large metal mooring post. Since it was just us out here, I figured our stuff would be safe for the 30 or so minutes while we were out on the water, especially since it looked like Luca would be staying on the jetty.

Quickly throwing my hair into a ponytail, I make my way over to Mario. Sitting down on the edge of the pier, Luca provides some assistance with manoeuvring me onto the back of the jet ski, given that I only really had one free hand.

Once I'm seated securely, Mario relays some instructions into the headset he’s wearing before slowly guiding the little vessel away from the jetty.

Glancing behind me, I see Drake's head bobbing above the water, but he quickly starts to ascend skywards.

"Get ready," advises Mario, revving the throttle higher as he spins the jet ski around so we’re facing back towards the shore.

Pulling up the camera app, I switch it to video mode and hit record just as Drake rises somewhat haphazardly out of the water.

"Oh, my God! That's so cool!" I exclaim, watching as the powerful jets under his feet propel him upwards until he's hovering about a foot above the water, arms thrown out as he tries to maintain his balance.

"Like magic, no?" grins Mario, watching Drake's efforts and making adjustments to the throttle speed accordingly.

"Definitely!" I enthuse, zooming in on Drake as he begins to move forwards.

"Balance is most important thing," calls Mario above the roar of the jets. "If you have strong balance you can—"

"Oh, no!" I cry as Drake suddenly loses the tentative hold in his equilibrium and tips in slow-motion back into the water.

"Everybody falls," Mario assures me as he helps Drake level out again before powering upwards once more with some further instructions into his headset. "But for first time, he is doing great job!"

"He's an amazing snowboarder," I say. "And he used to ski before that. I'm guessing both of those help."

"Sì, sì," nods Mario, keeping his gaze on his charge. "Skating, rollerblading, surfing — all these sports are good practice. Should we make him go higher?"

"Obviously!" I laugh, giving Drake a wave as he looks in our direction.

He gives a quick wave in response before focusing his attention back on the mechanics of his flight. Mario relays a few more instructions down the line and Drake throws us a thumbs up in response. A few false starts and a couple of jagged movements later, he's managed to draw a figure of eight out in front of us.

"Wow!" I gasp as he repeats the exercise again, this time with increased speed. "He's gotten the hang of that that quick!"

"He is natural," agrees Mario. "Before you know it, he will be competing in X-Games."

"Don't tell him that, because he definitely—!" I gasp as I catch sight of Drake again. "Holy crap!"

"Like I said — he is natural," replies Mario, watching Drake execute a tight 360 bent low over his board.

"Oh, God, I've created a monster..." I mutter sardonically under my breath as Drake flies out of the spin into a wide circle around us.

The rest of the session zooms by in a blur, and before I know it my phone’s battery is about to die and it's time to head back to shore.

"That was so amazing!" I exclaim as Luca helps me dismount the jet ski. "And I wasn't even the one flying!"

"You are welcome back anytime, Harper," says Mario with a grin as Luca takes my place on the back of the craft. "It was our pleasure!"

Grabbing my bag, I watch as the brothers head back to Drake and help him detach the hydroboard from his feet before shuttling it back to the jetty.

Drake makes the short swim back to the pier, and I'm there waiting for him as he climbs back onto dry land.

"So, what did you think?" I ask as he pulls himself up next to me, dripping water.

"Fuckin' awesome!" he declares, unclipping his helmet with a beaming smile. "The time went by so fast that I swear I was only out there for 5 minutes, tops."

"Well, my phone can attest to the fact that it was the full half hour," I assure him. "I got some good pics though!"

"Great! Can't wait to see! And you're definitely coming with me next time. You'd love it! It really is like flying!"

"Glad you had a good time, cowboy," I say, dropping a kiss in his salt-infused lips.

He wraps his arm around me, drenching me in the process. "I did. And I appreciate you pulling this together for me behind my back. You really didn't have to."

I smack him on the chest. "Of course I did! What kind of person would I be if I didn't surprise you with some kind of surprise on your birthday?"

"Well, you got me the other present already, so—"

"Nope!" I declare with a cheeky grin. "One present isn't enough. I gotta keep you in your toes, bud, remember?"

"You do, baby," he says with a warm look, pulling me to him. "Every single day. And I wouldn't trade it for the world."

"Me neither," I assure him, fusing my lips with his. "Now, let's get back to the boat."

So, as promised, a few notes and translations below:

1. Food — I appreciate that chicken and waffles is very much an American dish, with strong ties to the Southern states. However, in the course of my research, I did actually find a bistro in St. Julian’s, in Malta, where they serve this for brunch, so I did not — in any way! — take any creative licenses with that part of the story 😇

2. Language — Malta is an interesting place from a language point of view. While the official language is Maltese (which is a Semitic language that developed from a dialect of Arabic in combination with Sicilian — no, I didn’t know this either!), Malta was a British colony for about 150 years, which means that most people are conversant in both languages. In addition, due to Malta’s proximity to Italy, along with the influence of the Sicilian dialect on the local language, many Maltese people can speak/understand Italian as well. That said, Mario and Luca are actually Italian transplants (rather than Maltese), which is why they speak Italian.

3. Translations — As mentioned in my other fics, I HC that Drake is fluent in both French and Italian. Here are the translations:

- Mon coeur: lit. ‘my heart’ but connotatively means ‘my love’

- Putain de bordel de— : For fuck's—

- Ciao, bella!: Hello, beautiful!

- Sì: Yes

- Come stai?: How are you (doing)?

- Sto bene, grazie: I’m doing well, thanks.

- Sorprendente! Parla italiano? Hai un così bell'accento! Tu che sembri— : Amazing! You speak Italian! You have such a beautiful accent! You sound like—

- Piacere: Pleasure (as in ‘pleasure to meet you’)

- Bene: Good/great

- La mia taglia la so: I know what size I am

- Noto: Noted / I see

- Salvagente: Life jacket

- Lo spogliatoio è laggiù: The changing room is over there

- Grazie: Thanks

- Congratulazioni: Congratulations

- Quindi cosa dopo?: What now?

- Suegitemi: Follow me

- Bellissimo: Beautiful

- Era un corsaro, non un pirata: He was a privateer, not a pirate

- Perché sono mezzo americano. Ma mia madre è di Cordonia e anche io sono cresciuto lì: Because I am half-American. My mother is from Cordonia and I also grew up there.

- Ah, sì... Cordonia. Bel paese. Belle donne: Ah, yes… Cordonia. Beautiful country. Beautiful women.

*Big Melon: So, while looking for a translation of Big Apple, I learnt that in Italian, apple = mela, which I thought looked and sounded surprisingly similar to melon (melone), hence the small linguistic in-joke. Similar case of lost in translation with Guinea pig vs hamster. I know, I’m sad… ignore me 😆

Permatags

@twinkleallnight @lovingchoices14 @kingliam2019 @petiteboheme @angelasscribbles @aussiegurl1234 @nestledonthaveone @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @tessa-liam @alyshak92 @secretaryunpaid @princessleac1 @walkerdrakewalker @tinkie1973 @twinkle-320 @knaussal @nikkis1983 @lunaseasblog @ficloverevie @indiana-jr @differenttyphoonwerewolf @kristinamae093 @eversoaringqueen12 @peonierose @3pawandme @alexabeta @veebug8 @fangirling12566 @queenmiarys @lancelotsimp @coco-lina-s @lolablackwrites @ivyflowers13 @persephone13 @hollygirl1269 @adri-ja-96 @harleybeaumont @katedrakeohd @uneravine @alj4890 @choicesficwriterscreations @drake-walker-appreciation

Picture credits:

Hydroboarding - Harper - Drake - Malta

#surf's up! #harper gale #drake walker #drake x harper #the royal romance #uncharted #h&d honeymoon #tales from the gypsea #drake walker appreciation

[drake-walker-appreciation]

Drake's Birthday Celebration!

We have set Drake's birthday celebration for August and hope you'll join us with fics, drabbles, artwork and more! Special thanks to @aussiegurl1234 for the graphic!

The event will take place from August 1st through August 12th of 2023.

RULES:

All mediums accepted! Fanfiction, fan art, mood boards, HC's, whatever you've got!

Must be themed/centered around Drake's birthday and present him positively.

You must tag @drake-walker-appreciation

The deadline is 11:59 p.m. CST on August 12th, 2023.

A couple of important points:

The event is in August, but you may place his birthday in whatever month you HC it is!

Throwbacks featuring Drake's birthday are more than welcome!

Please reach out to this blog, @angelasscribbles or @karahalloway with any questions or suggestions!

We know his birthday, much like most of the PB timeline is nebulous so for anyone interested, here's the thought process about its placement, under the cut:

I think it’s common knowledge that PB’s timeline is total crap.

MC is told that the social season is a “few months” long, but if you follow the actual time stops given in the stoy…. “the next day…”, “a few days later…” etc, then the timeline is two and half weeks-ish. It’s like day 11 by time stops when MC is told that the season is “more than half over” despite the season being several months long. The Apple Blossom Festival is immediately after this, and Drake’s birthday happens during it.

We obviously can’t depend on anything about this timeline to tell us when his birthday falls.

Instead, we can look at the timeline that the actual social season in England follows. There is ample proof that plenty of the details of how royalty and the social season work in TRR are based on England, so this feels like a good option.

Besides, they left us no choice but to figure it out on our own, so any method you chose to use is valid since this is fiction. I personally did a deep dive into the social season in England both historically and in modern times.

The social season is four months long, starting in early April and ending on the Twelfth of August aka the start of the shooting season.

Applewood and the Apple Blossom Festival happen just before the Beaumont Bash, which is canonically the last official event of the social season. Therefore, I place the bash in the first half of August. MC drives from the festival events at Applewood directly to Ramsford so we can assume those activities take place at the end of July or beginning of August.

The next clue comes with the very title of this festival: Apple Blossom Festival. It’s not a harvest festival, so it doesn’t take place in the fall. (Apples are typically harvested in the last week of August and September, some even later, which is after the social season concludes at any rate.)

Apples blossom from early spring to late summer depending on the variety of apple. Most blossom in April or May but since the festival takes place at the end of the season, we have to assume that the Cordonian Ruby is a late-blooming variety. A very late blooming variety. (This is possible because when they bloom has more to do with the temperature of the region than the time of year. Since there was skiing and ice skating in April, we can assume it stays cold there well into spring.)

In conclusion, based on all of the above, I feel confident that Drake’s birthday falls somewhere at the end of July or in the first half of August.

That said, I’m not here to gatekeep anyone's HC’s so with that in mind, even though the event is in August, you may place Drake’s birthday whenever you like in your story. Put it in February, put it in October. The important part is that you have fun with it. That’s it.

Happy writing!

#drake walker appreciation #drake walker #drake's birthday #the royal romance #trr drake

[twinkleallnight]

False Truth-2

Book: TRR AU

Pairings: Drake x Riley, Drake x Olivia, Liam x Riley .

Word count:3075

Disclaimer: All characters belong to pixelberry.

Rating: Mature

Warning: mental health, mention of death.

Catch up here for chapter 1

A/N: Thanks a ton @lizzybeth1986 for holding my hand and bringing this to reality. This is a mini series of 6 chapters loosely weaved around themes for the days of drake-walker-appreciation week.

Prompt: Day2: Throwback @drake-walker-appreciation week

3 months ago……

Sirens blared through the roads as one ambulance after another zipped through the Capitol city of Cordonia. Olivia was  frantically driving her SUV, accelerating at a deadly speed towards the ruckus in the city. She wanted to reach the hospital, right now! The usually composed Duchess could not digest the blow of the phone call that she received an hour ago.

'The Crown Prince's convoy has been  attacked while heading to the palace from the airport. The prince and his chief of guards were reported injured. They have been rushed to the hospital.  Conditions currently unstable.'  

She had almost dropped her phone but her training had kicked in and she had rushed to the garage without waiting for any assistance. 

After driving for almost an hour, she hit the brakes, her vehicle screeching to a halt in the parking lot of the City hospital. 

She dashed to the ER but froze at the chaos she witnessed. There were shrieks and shrills, screams and shouts, wounded and attendings, cries and tears, pain and panic, all together overwhelming her senses. 

She tried to peer through the plethora of people in search of her husband, her friend….. maybe even a receptionist who could guide her. 

She caught hold of the nearest person in the hospital uniform. 

"Excuse me, I am looking for my husband, Drake Walker." 

The person filled her in quickly, "Ma'am, there was an attack on a whole convoy, we have thirteen injured and two deaths. I would suggest you to please connect with the front desk over there." 

She felt a chill run down her spine. 'Two deaths' her mind reverberated the words. With heavy steps, she crossed the distance to reach the desk. Her lips parted but her voice was choked. 'Two deaths?' she was questioning herself. Was she prepared for the worst? NO.NEVER! Her thoughts screamed back at her. 

She cleared her throat loudly enough to crush down her fears and to gain attention. She asked the relevant details. Thankfully, this time she was guided well till the entrance gates of ICU where Liam and Drake were being treated. 

Constantine and Regina were already seated there. They were holding each other's hands in silent prayers, waiting  to receive the news of the well being of their son. Olivia greeted them both with a downcast face and stood in a corner. They gave her a meek smile.

Moments passed to make minutes and minutes passed into hours. Nothing moved, except for the shuffling of  security around the royals. Savannah slipped in next to her sometime in between. But there was no effort to break the silence. Worried eyes met anxious ones, then shied away to hide their fear. 

After what seemed like ages, the glass doors slid open. The doctors stepped in the waiting area to let everyone know that things were under control. But, it was going to be a long road to recovery. 

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

Present day ……

The ivorine winged-back chair looked tempting with plush cushions. Olivia lowered herself into the softness of the upholstery. Her hands rested naturally on the arms of the chair. She let her head relax back while her long porcelain legs pointed out. She closed her eyes and stretched out with a moan. 

"Feels better?" 

She wasn't ready for any intrusion yet. But that was the whole reason to visit this place. Her heart was stalling the process of greeting the person in front of her, but she knew time was precious. She opened her eyes with quite an unwillingness. She adjusted herself to prop up on the chair with modesty. "How I wish!" 

Her interviewer sat down on a sofa across the spacious room. She didn't understand why they needed such a big room when the conversation could have very well been conducted in a small office across a desk. Her eyes traversed the gap between them, creeping over the fine carpets, hopping across the center table, revolving around the coffee mug to land on the clipboard they held. The click of their pen demanded her attention back to the present. Now. Here. 

"It didn't go well?" The stream of questions started. 

She shook her head in defeat. Her eyes trained low on the rug, lest her audience could see the tears floating over her emerald orbs. 

"What did he say?" 

She swallowed thickly before replying, "It was as if he didn't care. As if he had not even read the letter." 

"Are you sure he read the letter?" 

" It was lying open on his table. No one else visited the room. So, yes, he did read it." 

"But he refused to acknowledge it?" 

"He stomped away as soon as I went into his room." 

"Did he call you or did you go on your own?"

" He was talking to someone again." 

"On the phone?" 

"No, his phone was on the stand." 

"So, whom do you think he was talking to?" 

Olivia turned her head to the side and let out a sigh. "It was her." She swallowed over the lump in her throat. "He called out her name, again and again and laughed like a maniac. It scared the hell out of me." 

"What else did u hear him say?" 

"I knocked on the door only when I heard his laughter and her name in his voice. I don't know what conspired between them, before that." 

"Between whom? Are you saying you believe there is a woman named Riley in Drake's life?" 

Olivia leapt ahead in her chair with a snarl. "What do you expect me to say?" 

"Whatever is coming to your mind. What you feel is the truth." A calm reply came. 

Olivia stomped her foot on the rug and stood up. " The truth is, I am losing him. Every passing day." She said through her clenched teeth. "He is living in a delusion."

She got up and went behind the chair to create a safe barricade between them as she faced her interrogator. She wasn't sure she could control her actions. She clutched the back of the chair hard and lashed out, "The truth is that damn accident snatched away everything from me. I lost my friend, my love...my husband, my peace of mind...my happiness. Everything! All I am left to do is, struggle day and night. I have to remind the only man in my life…. Of who he is and who I am."

She paused but her chest was heaving with the burden. She was puffing out hot air to calm herself. She dug her nails deeper into the leather. "This isn't helping Dr June!"

"Olivia, we have discussed this earlier too, there is no magic wand that I  can use and get you the results. It is a slow process and it needs a lot of patience, especially from your end." 

Olivia hung her head in despair. She had no other option. She had tried every possible measure to get Drake out of his dreamland. Dr June , psychiatrist and behavioral psychologist was her last resort after much research. She had helped relieve Drake from the nightmares that had followed after the accident. Drake was on the recovery path, though with a memory loss. Olivia knew better, so she composed herself and came back to take her seat. 

"Thank you." Dr June nodded. "Now, can you tell me any special moments that you had spent together? Just the two of you. A moment that you think may have a deep impact on Drake's mind. Some place that he may still remember is related to you?" 

"Lythikan rites." Olivia blurted out without a second thought. 

"What rites?" Dr June asked, confused.

"It's an old, obsolete tradition from my province, which has been illegal for half a century. The Lythikan Rite of Union. An unmarried couple traverses the icy peaks of the Alps and on the dawn of the thirtieth day, they are wed, their officiant being survival itself." 

"Interesting…" Dr June encouraged her to continue. 

"I was always fascinated with it. Two years ago, when we decided to get married, Drake decided to do it for me."

She spoke as if in a trance, reminiscing those moments. "The very next day that we started our journey, I was in a mess. I was frustrated to not have my lady in waiting to manage my tousled hair.

When he saw me struggling, he unfeignedly took my comb from my hands. He walked me to a small rock nearby and sat down on the rock, his legs firm on the ground. He then pulled me closer, my back flush with his chest and made me settle against him. He started releasing the knots in my hair. He gently raked his fingers through my tangles. He then delicately brushed it smooth." 

Her gaze shifted to Dr June. "Do you know, I have never felt so much loved ever. He made me feel special. My world had zeroed down on him at that moment." 

Olivia had a smile dancing on her lips, her eyes transfixed into a dtstant space, as she spoke again. "I had never seen him so jovial before. He was humming. Drake Walker was humming a song!... for me!...while he neatly interweaved my tresses into a braid. He then cupped my face and said, 'I like them this way, so that, I can drown into the oceans of your green eyes. Olivia Vanderwal Nevrakis, I love you more than my life. I don't want to say till death do us apart because I can never forget you even if this body fades away.' 

Olivia suddenly paused looking puzzled at Dr June . "He was never supposed to forget me, doctor. What went wrong?" Her pain broke out through her words. 

"We will find it out soon and correct it, Olivia."  She reassured her. " Until then remember what he did for you back then. He took good care of you."

 Olivia nodded in agreement, dwelling into the past. "It was cold for him, snowy, harsh, yet I had him, all the time, beside me.…..holding my hand." 

She peered through the lone window to her left. Her eyes were dreamy, looking far away across the greens of the landscape outside. Her voice was soft and low. "Our hearts felt exhilarated. Our bodies shared the warmth. Our minds had an adrenaline rush." 

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

"It was cold…." Drake started narrating. "Snowy, harsh but it didn't matter to me. Riley was beside me……holding my hand. She said she felt exhilarated. And the warmth she felt with me would pull her through. She felt the adrenaline rush, she said." 

Dr June listened calmly. This was another session where Drake was imagining Riley, she was sure now. His description matched what Olivia had narrated earlier. Dr June had to be careful. 

Getting Drake into the sessions had been difficult enough. 

"Why am I here?" He would ask every time. 

"You met with an accident. You have a memory loss and I have been appointed by your kin, as your doctor." She would remind him of every appointment. 

"Oh!" He would look around disoriented and then just settle down for his family's sake.

Dr June knew one thing for sure, Drake would go to any extent for his family. But wasn't it the same for Olivia too? She was somehow washed away from his memory after the accident. And an unknown identity Riley had taken her place. 

The question was, who was Riley? Where did she come from? No one had ever heard of her. 

What Dr June had gathered from Drake was that Riley was a brunette as against his red-haired wife. She had honey brown eyes unlike Olivia's green eyes. She was dusky but Olivia was pale as a pearl. She was merely five feet as against Olivia's taller stature. Everything about Riley was in stark contrast to Olivia. 

Was Drake attracted to a different person altogether and was he done with Olivia? 

"I don't understand it." Olivia had repeated it umpteen times and Dr June always had tried to explain. 

" No one does, Olivia. We claim a lot in medicine, still, for the most part, the brain remains an unknown frontier. The human mind is a very complex area. Neuroscientists don't yet fully understand how information is processed by the brain of a worm that has few hundred neurons, let alone by the brain of a human that has 100 billion neurons. You never know where and how it gets jumbled up into a thick heavy ball that's impossible to untangle." 

Olivia stared at her in dismay. Dr June held her hand to show her support and give her some strength. "All we can do is TRY." 

And so they kept trying.

"Where is Riley from?" Dr June planned to test the waters in today's session, asking Drake the details of his imaginary girlfriend. 

 "New york." He answered casually. His thoughts seemed very well sorted. 

She further asked, "Where did you meet her?" 

"At a bar." That didn't give much detail. She anyway noted his answer. 

"How long have you known each other?" 

"Almost a year now." This was a surprise for her. Olivia did not even know and Drake claimed to know Riley for a year now. 

"Where does she stay?" 

"Here, with me." 

Dead end. She again hit a wall in her investigation. But today she had planned to dig deeper. So she continued, "Is she here with you today?"

"Yes, I requested her to wait outside." 

"Please bring her in." 

Drake got up promptly and opened the door to call her in. He came back a bit worried. "She is not there. Do you mind if I look around and get her?" 

"Sure. I will see you in ten minutes."

Drake wandered around the place for sometime while,in a neighboring room, Dr June filled in Olivia with the new information that she had. 

"New york?" Olivia tried to assimilate the newly received details. 

Dr June nodded. "Past one year." 

Olivia looked wide eyed. She started pacing the room.

Dr June asked, "Any accomplice who can throw some light on what his itinerary was like? Whom he met? Which places did he visit?" 

Olivia stopped and turned to Dr June. "He never visited New York. Past two years Drake has been busy managing the role of head of security guards here in Cordonia." 

"Hmm." Dr June pondered. They both stood in silence in their grappling mess. A knock on the door startled Olivia. She scurried behind the door before it opened.

Drake peeped in. "Dr June, I found Riley. She was in the gardens. I just came to inform you that we will be waiting for you in your counseling room."

"Sure, I will be there in a minute." Dr June forced a smile. 

Drake left. Dr June shifted her gaze to the left of the open door. Olivia had hid herself there and now she stood there stunned.  Riley was here. Again.   

Dr June took a deep breath and stepped ahead. She patted Olivia's shoulder in reassurance.  

"What are you going to do now?" Olivia questioned with teary eyes.

"Let's see. Maybe burst his bubble." 

As much as she wanted Drake to come back to reality, she didn't want to see him hurt and in pain. "He has been through a lot, Dr June. Is there no easy way?" 

"We are trying our best." She asserted and moved on. 

When Dr June entered her counseling room, Drake was alone sitting in his chair. She could judge his anxiety by his continuously shaking left leg. 

"Is Riley not joining us?" Dr June asked. 

"She started feeling dizzy and wanted some rest, so I sent her home. Maybe you can meet her later?" 

"Sure. Can I ask you something?" 

"Yes, please." 

"Sometime ago you mentioned your trip to the Alps. Do you remember any special moment you spent with Riley there that she really loved?" 

Drake smiled,"I hunted for her, I practiced making s'mores for her. "

"Something you still do for her and she misses?" 

Dr June observed the change in his demeanor. He was deep in his thoughts, his eyes had focused on the bouquet of red roses that brightened one of the dull corners of the room. 

"Her hair, they were always so bunched up. She still loves it when I comb and brush them for her." He was captivated when he uttered, " Her thick red mane! I just love them.. but i love them weaved into a braid. It shows her bright green eyes so clearly, you can drown in them." He smiled shaking his head.  

"You mean Olivia's hair." 

"No, I said Riley's." He looked at her suddenly with a jerk. 

"But you said red hair?" 

"No I did not! " He protested. 

"You just now  said 'her thick red mane." 

He stared at the doctor while she warmly looked at him and continued, "her thick red Mane, bright green eyes. 

Drake gave her a confused look. She tried to explain. 

 " It was Olivia with you, Drake. Always. All this time. Riley is… she is someone in your subconscious mind, playing games with your conscience. She is a figment of your imagination." 

Drake shook his head violently. 

" No, no, no!  That can't be." And he got up from his chair. "You are lying. You are all lying. You are trying to kill her. I won't let you. I will protect her. I promised, I will…" He ran out of the door. 

Olivia rushed in as soon as he left. "What happened, Dr June? Why was he running away like that? " 

Dr June replied, still staring at the door where he left from, a few moments ago. "He thinks Riley is in some danger. He wants to protect her, he said he promised he would." She then looked at Olivia. "Do you know whom he made promises as a chief of guard? To protect someone or to save someone?" 

Olivia pondered, " As a chief of guard he was answerable only to the king." She peeped out of the door and asked, "Do you think he can be left alone in this situation? I feel I should go after him. He may need me. " 

"Sure. We will meet later. Go." Dr June waved. Olivia turned around to leave, when Dr June called her. "And one more thing,Olivia…" 

"What is it?" Olivia looked back. 

"Somewhere deep inside, he still remembers you." 

Tags: @3pawandme @alj4890 @angelasscribbles @bascmve01 @bebepac @busywoman @dcbbw @gkittylove99 @harleybeaumont @iaminlovewithtrr @karahalloway @kingliam2019 @lizzybeth1986 @lovingchoices14 @nestledonthaveone @neotericthemis @mom2000aggie @phoenixrising0308 @princess-geek @riseandshinelittleblossom @sazanes @secretaryunpaid @sfb123 @sillydg @tessa-liam @tinkie1973 @txemrn @walkerdrakewalker @yourmajesty09

#drake walker appreciation #drake #pixelberry #playchoices #the royal romance #trr fandom #trr #drake walker #olivia nevrakis #twinkleallnight

[angelasscribbles]

Drake Walker Appreciation: Art

I can't wait for tomorrow lol! This is a visual, but also falls under Romance, which was yesterday, so I'm posting it now! It's too good to keep to myself for even a day!

Ya'll!! 😢😢😢😢😢😢 I can't begin to tell you how much I love this piece by @rosefuckinggenius, her username is very aptly chosen because this is beyond greatness!

Riley and Drake on his Motorcycle:

🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

Tagging everyone under the cut

All Things TRR:

@nestledonthaveone  @karahalloway  @tessa-liam  @belencha77 @lovingchoices14

@21-wishes @secretaryunpaid @lunaseasblog  @princessleac1 @bebepac

@emersyn-in-cordonia @walkerdrakewalker @73geenalove  @sillydg @twinkle-320

@queen-arabella-of-cordonia @tinkie1973 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @jared2612 @mainstreetreader

@amandablink @harleybeaumont  @xpandass420x @ladyangel70 @twinkleallnight

@dcbbw  @indiacater @queenmiarys @phoenixrising0308 @gabesmommie1130

@kingliam2019 @3pawandme @bascmve01 @hollygirl1269  @ohmyeightpastlives

#drake walker appreciation #drake walker #dwaw #drake x riley #trr art

[bebepac]

I feel like this would be something completely acceptable in Drake Walker's household. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

#drake walker #drake walker appreciation #bebepac jokes #whiskey

[storyofmychoices]

SpreadJoy #766: spreading positivity with quotes and @playchoices characters.

Quote in edit by Dhiman

Drake Day : @choicesmonthlychallenge, @drake-walker-appreciation

#drake walker #drake walker appreciation #the royal romance #the royal finale #the royal heir #choices #choices game #spreadjoy #choices spreadjoy #spreadjoy request #dhiman

[secretaryunpaid]

Here’s to “Whiskey soaked memories”!

(Drake definitely showed Kiara just how smooth Tennessee whiskey could feel 😮‍💨🤤😮‍💨)

Caption: “Tennessee Whiskey”

Message:

“Drake, you’re as smooth as Tennessee Whiskey, and as fine as strawberry wine…”

“That’s because EVERYTHING is bigger in Texas, Kiara … and trust me, bigger is better !!!”

#whiskeys #@secretaryunpaid #drake walker appreciation #drake walker #tennessee whiskey #Spotify

[karahalloway]

Sleepless in New York: Chapter 10 - Darkfall

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

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.

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

#drake walker #sleepless in new york #world whiskey day #drake walker appreciation #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #drake x mc #harper gale #the royal romance #trr au fanfic

[drake-walker-appreciation]

Happy Birthday Drake!

Reminder that Drake's Birthday Celebration Event kicks off on August 1st!

#drake walker appreciation #drake walker #drake's birthday

[twinkleallnight]

False truth

Book: TRR AU

Pairings: Drake x Riley, Drake x Olivia, Liam x Riley .

Word count:1020

Disclaimer: All characters belong to pixelberry.

Rating: Mature

Warning: mental health

A/N: Thanks a ton @lizzybeth1986 for holding my hand and bringing this to reality. This is a mini series of 6 chapters loosely weaved around themes for the days of drake-walker-appreciation week.

Prompt: Day 1: Appreciation for @drake-walker-appreciation week

"Good morning!" Her soft whisper and sweet kisses were the things Drake cherished the most.

He stretched his arms up in the air and then turned to her, taking her in his embrace. She giggled as he peppered kisses all over her face.

"I love you." She said with a kiss.

"I love you too." He replied and asked, "What are we planning today?"

" I am going to treat you to some of your favourite foods."

"And what's so special to recieve this treat?"

"Just cause I want to celebrate, us." She waved her finger between both of them. "You know what, being with you every moment is a celebration." She added.

"You flatter me. What did I do to get all of this?" He spread out his arms and threw himself back in the softness of the plush mattress.

She placed her hand on his chest and rested her chin on it. Looking into his eyes, she started, " You Drake Walker, you are the most wonderful person on this earth. You have been a loving son, a caring brother, the most loyal friend anyone could ask for."

He raised his brows. "Well, thank you but all these things don't relate to you and me. Tell me something exclusive about us."

She chuckled, "That list will be never-ending. You know how much I love you. You are the warm hearted person I always dreamed of."

Drake smiled listening to the praises. She cupped his face and continued, "You can read me so well. I don't have to utter a single word and you know what I want. You know it all. You are so devoted that I feel blessed. You never leave my side come hell or high water. You give courage, you give hope, you make living possible. With you around I am so carefree. You are always watching my back. I can be myself and I am who I am, because of you."

Drake covered her mouth with his fingers, "Enough! Do you want me to drown in the sea of these praises?"

She shook her head and moved his hand away to speak, "No, I want you to shine like a star in the nightsky."

"A star? I am not beautiful like a star."

She got up to kiss his head. "Sadly, you don't even know."

"Know what?"

"That you are beautiful inside and outside. . Your chestnut hair that falls over your forehead." She ruffled his hair and he chuckled. "Your twinkling brown eyes, this smile of yours that only I get to see. When you say my name in your rough and heavy tenor, my legs go jelly."

"Riley." He called out her name to tease her.

"Oh, please don't start it again."

"Riley! Riley! Riley!" He repeated with a kiss each time.

She started laughing. He responded with a hearty laugh. He didn't realise his voice was loud enough to cross the barriers of the wooden doors.

There was a knock on the door. "Drake? Are you awake, Drake?" The sharp female voice from the other side of the door sounded concerned.

Drake lost his grin but Riley kept smiling. He got up to open the door. He didn't want his rendezvous with Riley to end. If only…

The moment he unlocked the door, Olivia rushed in.

"Good morning, Drake. How are you today? Did you sleep well?" She asked in a single breath, scanning the room.

"Yes, whatever." He muttered and walked in behind her. He looked at his bed and frowned. Riley was gone. Again. As always.

"Were you talking to someone?"

" None of your business!" He snarled at her and stomped out of the door. Riley was gone, so there was no point to stay there.

Olivia's shoulders slumped in defeat. She looked at the tiny study table in the corner of the room. The letter she left last night was still there. It was out of the envelope. That means he read it. Then why would he not respond well? She walked down to it with heavy steps. She picked it up to check if she had made a mistake. She started reading her handwritten ode.

'Dear Drake,

I love you. And I have some plans for tomorrow. I am going to treat you to some of your favourite foods. Nothing special. I just want to celebrate, us, although being with you every moment is a celebration. Because, you Drake Walker, you are the most wonderful person on this earth. You have been a loving son, a caring brother, the most loyal friend anyone could ask for.' Her eyes welled up. She tried to peer through her watery eyes.

'And if i start talking about us, the list will be never-ending.'

A stray streak of water spilled out of her eye to land on the letter and blotted the ink. She turned away with a sigh. Her head hung low. She crumpled the paper in her hand.

She looked up at the mantle. Photos of them together in happier times looked like they were mocking her. She picked up one she had clicked of him, standing alone in the lythikos snow with the eggnog she had made for him. He was beaming at the lens. He looked so happy. She wiped the wetness from her cheeks, reminiscing about that moment. She touched his lips in the photograph and moved her fingers over his brown eyes. "I did as I was told. I poured out my heart to you Drake Walker in a hope that you will remember what we had. But you are still dreaming of a woman who doesn't exist. I wonder how long I will have to fight this lonely battle to get you out of your hallucinations.This struggle seems like never-ending. I miss you Drake. I miss you!"

She cradled the photo frame in her bosom and let the welled up emotions loose till she could do it no more. She won't give up though. She had decided she wouldn't. With a fresh resolution in her mind,she got up to go after him.

"Drake? Drake!..."

Tags: @3pawandme @alj4890 @angelasscribbles @bascmve01 @bebepac @busywoman @dcbbw @delmissesryan @harleybeaumont @iaminlovewithtrr @karahalloway @kingliam2019 @lovingchoices14 @nestledonthaveone @neotericthemis @mom2000aggie @phoenixrising0308 @princess-geek @sazanes @secretaryunpaid @sfb123 @sillydg @tessa-liam @tinkie1973 @txemrn @walkerdrakewalker @choicesficwriterscreations

Chapter 2 here

#drake walker appreciation #drake walker #riley brooks #olivia nevrakis #drake x mc #Dralivia #pixelberry #playchoices #the royal romance #trr fandom #trr #choices fanart #twinkleallnight

[angelasscribbles]

Yoga Pants: A Three Weeks in Ramsford Drabble

Series: Three Weeks in Ramsford and Drakes Tight Pants Anthology

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: None at the moment.

Rating: MA

Warnings: Language, mature themes

Wordcount: 582

A/N: So....yet another fic about Drake's ass lol. After reading chapter two, Hot Yoga, @tinkie1973 wanted to know if there were pics of Drake in his yoga pants which led to a mood board, which led to me having further ideas about the hot yoga itself. In the original chapter, the yoga itself was not described. Since Kiara was a participant, there's no way she wasn't looking at his ass. So here you go! @drake-walker-appreciation @choicesficwriterscreations

My other stuff: Master List.

Kiara couldn’t help the fact that her eyes kept sliding up. She was on her hands and knees, ready to push up into downward dog. The problem was that Drake Walker was in front of her, which placed his ass directly in her line of sight.

And what an ass it was! It wasn’t that she hadn’t noticed it before, it was just that before she’d been more focused on his pecs and abs. She also had never seen him in anything quite as tight and revealing as the yoga pants he’d purchased at the counter before class began.

She was having a lot of trouble focusing.

When the instructor gave the signal, she reluctantly pushed up into the correct pose, replacing Drake’s ass with her feet in her field of vision.

She spent the rest of the class trying to not be obvious about where her attention was focused.

When the class ended, Drake stalked toward the water cooler while she watched him go, ignoring whatever Penelope was rambling about.

“He has a nice ass, doesn’t he?” A voice whispered in her ear.

“Shit! Max! What are you doing?” Kiara nearly fell over.

“Sorry, I was trying to be quiet,” he chuckled, “didn’t think you’d want everyone to know you were checking out Drake’s ass.”

“What? No! I mean, I wasn’t!” heat flamed across her face.

Penelope stopped talking about poodles to interject, “Oh, but I thought you said he had the best ass in Cordonia and that you would lick whipped cream off his-“

“Penelope! That’s enough!” Kiara screeched in mortification.

“Everything okay over here?” the instructor had come to see what the commotion was about.  

“Oh, ah…” Max stumbled over his words a little under the scrutiny of the smoking-hot yoga instructor.

Adam Winchester was the real reason Max had been going to hot yoga three times a week.

“What’s happening?” Drake asked as he walked back to the group with a cup of water in his hand.

“Nothing!” Max blurted out, “We were just admiring your ass!”

“What? No!” Kiara shook her head frantically from side to side in denial.

“Don’t be weird, Beaumont,” Drake lifted the cup to his lips completely unperturbed.

“No, I know we’re just friends. I’m not hitting on you, I promise. I’m just saying-“

“So, you’re gay?” Adam interrupted.

Max blinked, “What?”

“What?” Adam held his hands up in front of him, “It’s just a question!”

“I am gay…and you?”

“Gay as fuuuuuck,” Adam smiled at him enticingly, “Can I get your snap?”

“It’s whatskraken, but like the squid… let me spell that for you…..”

Kiara, Drake, and Penelope rolled up their mats as Max flirted with the instructor.

“You do have a nice ass, Drake,” Penelope chirped as they headed for the door.

“….thanks…”

“Mon Dieu!” Kiara cursed softly under her breath.

“What was that?” Drake glanced back at her as Maxwell caught up to them at the exit.

“Nothing!” she squeaked as they exited the studio.

Less than five minutes later, Penelope’s poodle obsession had separated her from the opportunity to have lunch with Drake. She sighed as they walked back to her car.

The image of that ass was going to haunt her dreams tonight. Maybe now that Riley was out of the way, he’d notice her. Surely he would be going on the engagement tour, there would be plenty of opportunities to talk to him then. Yes, she decided, the engagement tour was definitely going to be her chance.

#drake walker #drake walker appreciation #drake's tight pants #drake's ass #thirsty thursday #three weeks in ramsford #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week

[txemrn]

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! 🖤

~👑~

Tags (please let me know if you wish to be added/removed)

PERMA

@alj4890 @ao719 @charlotteg234 @issabees @kat-tia801 @kingliam2019 @mainstreetreader @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @nikirennie87 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam

ALL TRR

@3pawandme @alyshak92 @iaminlovewithtrr @katedrakeohd @lovingchoices14 @malblk21 @rubiwalker @sfb123 @twinkleallnight

#the royal romance #the royal heir #king liam appreciation week #klaw day 2 #klaw day 5 #choices trr #trr liam #king liam rys #liam rys #liam x mc #liam rys x mc #liam x riley #drake walker #bertrand beaumont #maxwell beaumont #savannah beaumont

[harleybeaumont]

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 😍

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!

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!

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.

#drake walker #drake walker appreciation week #drake walker pairings #drake x oc #drake x mc #drake x liam #drake x maxwell #trr drake

[deb-1106]

I didn't want to miss out on KLAW, so here's a throwback commission made by the incredible artbyainna on IG. From my Forever Trilogy, my OTP, Driam. ❤️

* Paid Commission. Please do not alter or repost*

#king liam appreciation week #king liam #drake walker #Driam #art commission

[hanaleeappreciationweek]

(this gorgeous poster is the work of our wonderful co-host @sazanes!!)

Welcome to our second edition of the Hana Lee Appreciation Week!! We celebrated it in the first week of October last year, but this time - such World Music Day falls on 21st June - we've decided to shift our appreciation week to a slightly earlier date. After all, music is one of Hana's first great loves! 💞💞💞

Last year, we held our first ever HLAW, and every single entry we received for it was a sheer slice of perfection!! We just can't wait to see what Hana stans have in store for us this year!!

As always, this week is about celebrating Hana Lee in all her glory and her complexity - her passions, her kindness, her confusions, her own journey to healing and confidence. We love every facet of her, and this week is dedicated to showcasing ALL of them!

Certain days will have two themes - you can choose either one for your content, or even do a combination of both! Any content is welcome - fanfic, fanart, edits, moodboards, meta, playlists, icons...even screenshots of your favourite scenes of Hana!! We also accept WIPs so if you're not able to complete the piece on time, you can always show us a WIP of the piece you were working on! As long as the content is focused on Hana and shows a positive depiction of her, the sky's the limit!

These are the themes we have in store for HLAW 2023:

19th June - Throwback

20th June - Skills vs Passions/Chocolate!

21st June - Music/AU

22nd June - Relationships*/Homes

23rd June - Hana's Perfect Wedding! (Small note about this theme here)

For Throwback typically, we accept old pieces on Hana, and invite the creators to briefly tell us about the process of creating their piece. Here's a throwback questionnaire you can use if you like!

The themes are meant to be inspirations for your writing - it isn't completely essential for you to send content for a particular day only specifically for that day. You can always send it later as long as you tag it with the day you meant the work for!

Make sure you tag @hanaleeappreciationweek in your content as well as co-hosts @lizzybeth1986 and @sazanes. Tag your posts with #hanaleeappreciationweek and #HLAW (along with days #HLAW Day 1, #HLAW Day 2, etc) as well so we don't miss any of your pieces!

For inspiration, take a look at our HLAW 2022 masterlist!!

Various fan content blogs also enthusiastically promote our events and have tons of fun events of their own during these months, so we highly recommend you check them out: @choicesficwriterscreations, @choicesflashfics, @choicesholidays, @choicespride, @choicesprompts, @choicesmonthlychallenge, @drake-walker-appreciation, @maxwell-beaumont-appreciation.

Once the week officially ends on 23rd June, we will keep the blog open for a bonus week, for anyone who struggles to finish their content during the week itself.

More than a month is left before HLAW begins, and we are SO excited to see what Hana fans will come up with!! See you all in June!

✅✅ signal boosts will be greatly appreciated!! ✅✅

--

*(Relationships in this context could refer to romantic, platonic or filial relationships!)

#hana lee #hanaleeappreciationweek #HLAW #the royal romance #the royal heir #the royal finale