#this was after they refused to hear my suggestions of removing the ugly couch we don’t need or the piano we don’t use

[watercolor-wings]

ah yes, mid-November, when hoarder households all over America begin the annual family fight over where the fuck the Christmas tree is going to go in 2 weeks

[quicksilverownsmysoul]

13 Going on 30 pt.1

A Peter Maximoff x reader fanfiction based off the movie 13 going on 30.

Summary:  You are so excited when the most popular girl in your school agrees to come to your 13th birthday party. But after a cruel prank you find yourself wishing that you were popular and older. By some miracle your wish is granted but isn’t as wonderful as it seems. You turn out to be a major jerk and you don't even talk to your best friend Peter anymore. Can you fix everything and get back to normal or are you stuck living like this forever 

Warnings: Angst and some suggestive content. But it’s mostly pure fluff. (Also peter has no powers in this and some scenes will be changed to better fit Peter and so I can be creative with it!)

Word Count: 2759

I am so excited to share this fic with y’all! 13 going on 30 is one of my favorite comfort movies and I thought that adding Peter Maximoff to it would make it even better. 

It was 1987 and your birthday party was next week. You were so excited you could barely contain yourself. You were turning 13, you were finally becoming a teenager. It was time to abandon all childish things and live a life of adventure and romance. One that all the movies told you was guaranteed once you became a teenager. You were writing in your notebook during lunch checking off the things you had already gotten for your birthday party. “Balloons, check. Party favors, check. The cutest outfit, check!” 

“Your best friend in the whole world who is getting you the best present. Check!” Peter added as he sat down across from you, dropping his lunch tray down on the table. You just rolled our eyes at him.“So I was thinking for this year we should go to the arcade then get ice cream.” Peter muttered his mouth full of the school’s signature sloppy joe sandwich. “Cause if I eat too much ice cream before we play that dance game you love, I'm gonna get sick again.” Some of the sandwich meat dripped out of the corner of his mouth. You handed him a napkin to wipe it, not even disgusted at this point. 

You and Peter had been best friends since birth. You had lived right next to each other as kids and you had done everything together. Learning how to walk, the loss of your first tooth, the first day of school. Always together no matter what. That’s what made you so nervous to tell him what was on your mind. “Actually, I was thinking of having a party this year.” You gave him a nervous smile. 

“What?!” He choked out in the midst of a coughing fit having nearly choked on his milk. Kids turned around to look at him and you shushed him. ”Peter stop shouting.” You scolded through gritted teeth. 

 He spoke up again this time, his voice back to it’s normal level. “But it’s always just us.”

You winced, you had figured he was going to respond like this. “I know, I know. But hear me out.” Peter sat back in his chair, arms crossed. “Lucy said she’d come to the party this year, and she’d bring Dylan! You know how much I like him.” You gushed and Peter narrowed his eyes at you. 

“How did you convince the most popular girl in school to come to your party?”

“Way harsh peter.” You reached over to his tray attempting to steal one of his fries. His hand slapped yours away. “You make it sound like she doesn't even know I exist.”

“That’s exactly what I’m implying, you and I are at the bottom of the social food chain and you know it.” He pushed his chair back even further, now only balancing on two legs. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” You defended. 

He held your gaze with narrowed eyes as you tired your best to maintain eye contact. The minute you looked away he knew he had you. “I know you're lying (y/n). When you can’t look me in the eye you’re hiding something. Spill it.” 

You muttered really quickly. “Imayormaynothavedoneherhomeworkforthepastmonth.” 

He gave you an exasperated look. “What?”

“I said I may or may not have done her homework for the past month.”

He gave you a disapproving look. “Don’t look at me like that. “ You pouted. “It was the only way she was going to bring Dylan.” 

“I don't even know why you want that guy at your party. Or Lucy for that matter. They’re all a bunch of jerks.” Peter got up to put his tray away. You shoved your notebook back into your bag and got up to follow him. 

“You don’t even know them Peter.”

“Neither do you.” You frowned at him before turning on your heel and walking away from him. “(y/n) wait.” You sped up and he sped up with you. He caught up to you and grabbed your arm. You refused to look at him. 

Peter’s harsh look softened and his grip on your arm loosed. “Look.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “ I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

You gave him a soft smile. “I won’t especially not with my best friend around.” You bumped your shoulder into his. He returned your smile after a while and your face lit up. “It’s going to be fun!” 

“If you say so.”

On the day of your party you couldn't even sit still for a single second. Pacing by the front door waiting for Lucy and her friends to arrive. The doorbell rang and you threw open the door, but your smile dropped when you saw it was just Peter. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Geez, it's good to see you too.” He pushed his way into your house as you closed the door behind him. 

“Sorry I just thought it was Lucy.”

“And you were disappointed when it was me.” He joked making himself at home on your couch.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“No, I get it. Suddenly you get new friends and I’m old news. Hung out to dry. Dead and buried without a moment to grieve.” He milked his performance trying to make you feel guilty. You sat down next to him knocking his feet off your mother’s coffee table. 

“Shut up.” You laughed, he watched you and smiled. You noticed the keyboard strapped to his chest and groaned. “Did you have to bring your keyboard?”

“Duh. It’s part of your gift.” 

“I hope that’s not all you got me.”

“Hey!” He mocked being hurt by your words. “And it’s not by the way.” He sat up and made his way to your front door. “I gotta go get it, I left it on your doorstep.” He opened the door and was gone for a minute, making you anxious with anticipation. He poked his head through the doorway and a sweet smile plastered on his lips. “Close your eyes.”

You quickly covered your eyes with your hands. You heard Peter’s sneakers shuffling as he made his way closer to you. “No peeking.”

“I’m not!”

“Yes you are, I can see you looking through the slits of your fingers.” You giggled at the accusation and squeezed your eyes even tighter. You felt the couch dip from his weight as he sat back down next to you. You feel his hands close around yours, and the small action making you blush. He carefully removed your hands from your eyes. “Ta-da!” 

Sitting on the coffee table front of you was a huge handmade pink doll house. “I decided to make you your own (y/n) dream house.” Your eyes widened taking it all in. It was beautiful.

“Petey did you make all this?” You asked, heart swelling at the sweet action. 

“Yeah,” He admitted a little embarrassed. He scooted closer to the table. “See that’s you in your bubble bath. Reading your favorite magazine” It was a Barbie doll with a picture of your face tape on it. You giggled.” And there’s your room with the giant closet you’ve always wanted and a huge stereo collection. I know how much you love music. And there’s that bum Rick Springfield, sitting on the couch.” As you took in all the details you fell even more in love with the house. Peter had put so much time into this and you adored it.

 “And uh, there’s me.” He smiled sheepishly. A picture of him was glued to a piece of cardboard. His picture was making that ‘I’m watching you’ gesture at Rick Springfield. “I’m making sure that creep keeps his hands to himself. He’s only here for his musical talents, nothing else.” You smiled at him. He smiled back and for a second you could have sworn he glanced down at your lips. “Oh! I almost forgot.” He pulled out a red packet and shook it lightly. “Wishing dust.” 

You scooted closer to him so you guys could read the package together. “It says wishing dust knows what’s in your heart of hearts. They’ll make all your dreams come true.” He whispered the last part, his eyes cast downward as you watched him rip open the package. He stood up and sprinkled the dust down on the house. You watched in wonder as all the different colors rained down together and decorated the whole house in a pretty shimmer. Your eyes met his and you could feel yourself tearing up. He was so sweet and he didn't even know how much this meant to you. 

Just then the doorbell rang and you jumped to your feet. “They’re here!” You wiped away the tears that threatened to fall really quickly before dashing to the door.

“Yay.” Peter cheered sarcastically. You ignored him and sprinted to open the door. Lucy was there along with her friends and Dylan in the back. She was wearing a neon pink dress, the same one you had begged your mom to buy you last week. She had said no obviously. 

“Hi Lucy! Thanks for coming!” She just gave you a tight smile and let herself in. She looked around your living room and a sneer made its way to her face when she saw Peter on your couch fiddling with his keyboard. 

“Sup Freak.” Lucy shot Peter a sickly sweet smile.

“Sup slut.” Peter replied, mirroring her smile. You felt your mouth open in shock and shot him a deadly look. Lucy just pressed on trying to get a reaction out of Peter.

“I see your hair is still as gray and as ugly as ever.”

“At least my hair is naturally this color. From the look of your roots you should really look into getting a better stylist. You ain’t fooling anybody honey.” 

They continued to glare at each other until Lucy finally broke away from his gaze and turned to face you. “Where is this party happening anyway.” 

“It’s um downstairs, in the basement.” You motioned towards it, Lucy and her friends made their way down the steps. Peter followed them carrying your dollhouse, but you held your arm out to stop him. “What was that? Why were you being such a jerk?” 

“She started it!” 

You huffed. “I know, but it’s my party so please try to be nice to her.” He opened his mouth to say something but then decided against it. He pushed past your arm and went down the stairs to the basement. Taking two at a time. 

“So this is it.” Lucy picked at the neon colored table cloth. You didn't know what to say as she looked around. “What are we going to do anyway?”

“Well we could play twister, Peter is really good at it.” Peter gave a small salute in acknowledgement as they glanced towards him. “Or we could watch a movie.”’ You said excitedly, making your way over to the VHS rack.” I have a lot of good ones.``

“Lame.” Lucy announced and her friends echoed in agreement. 

You felt embarrassed of thinking that they would enjoy such childish things. “Why don't we play a new game?” Lucy suggested.

“What kind of game?” Peter asked, suspicion laced in his tone.

“A fun one.” She made her way towards you and placed her hand on your shoulder as she turned to address Peter. “Not that you would know anything about fun Maximoff.”

“Not that you would know anything about fun.” Peter mocked back in a high pitched tone.

  “Real mature.” Peter stuck his tongue out at her.

She turned back to you. “Let’s play seven minutes in heaven.” She leaned in even closer. “You can go first (y/n), and I think you’ll like who you get.” She glanced back and you followed her gaze towards Dylan. He shot you a smile and you felt yourself blush. 

All of a sudden you heard your mom. “(y/n)!” Your mother yelled down the stairs. “Your cake is here come and get it!”

“Peter go get it.” Lucy commanded.

“What? No.” He scoffed. You met his gaze and shot him a pleading look. “Fine.” He put the dollhouse away in your closet on the top shelf and made his way to the stairs. “Thanks Petey.”

“Yeah, yeah.” 

Lucy took off her scarf from around her neck and placed it over your eyes, knotting it tightly in the back. She led you towards the closet and you felt your heart rate pick up. You could hear the giggles of her friends as they closed the door. You stood there in the darkness waiting for Dylan to come in. It had been a while since Lucy had led you to the closet, you sat down putting your arms around your knees hugging them close. 

Peter came back down the stairs carrying your cake, as he was coming down Lucy was going up the stairs, her friends trailing behind her. “Hey where are you going?” 

She didn't answer, just smiled at him placing a hand on his shoulder. “(y/n) is waiting for you in the closet.” He gave her a confused look, he didn't know he was part of this game. Lucy and her friends continued up the steps, Dylan swiped your cake with his finger smearing the icing and eating it. Peter yanked it away and continued down into the basement. Madonna was playing softly in the background, he put the cake on the table and made his way to the closet, opening the door. He saw you sitting there  on the floor, you upon hearing the door squeak open were smiling up at him. “I didn't think you were going to come.”

He nervously smiled back at you and sat down on the floor across from you. You reached your hands out towards him. “Where are you?” He let his hands find yours, fingers intertwined in one another. He had held your hand before but this time it felt so different. He saw you lean in and he did the same. He was inches away from your lips when you whispered. “Oh Dylan.” He pulled back abruptly. 

“It’s not Dylan, It’s Peter.” You yanked your hands away from his and tore the scarf away from your eyes.

 “What are you doing here?” You felt panic take over you. “Where is Dylan?”

“He left. They all did, no one is here.” You stood up and saw that Peter was right. Your snack table stood untouched and Lucy, and Dylan were no where to be found. You immediately turned on Peter. “What did you do?” 

Peter looked at you in disbelief. “Nothing!”

“Yes you did!” You were screaming at him at this point.

“I just went to get your cake!” He screamed back. 

“Get out.” you whispered. Peter looked at you, clearly hurt that you were pushing him away. “GET OUT!” You screamed as you pushed him out of the closet. 

“(y/n) wait!” He tried holding the door open as you desperately tried shutting it. “(y/n) let me talk to you!” 

“Peter stop.” You cried. 

“(y/n)-”

“No!” You managed to shut the door and lock it. You sat back down on the floor and put the blindfold back over your eyes.

“(y/n) Please!” You could hear Peter on the other side of the door even with your hands covering your ears. “Please come out!”

“I hate you!” You screamed as his voice stopped. 

“You don’t mean that.” He muttered, tears of his own threatening to spill.

“Yes I do! I hate you! I hate me! I hate everything!” You were so angry and embarrassed and that you really thought Lucy was your friend. And that you were going to get to kiss Dylan.

“(y/n) what are you talking about?”

“I want to be thirty!” You wailed through your tears.

“Just let me play you this song.” Peter yelled back. He slung his keyboard over his head and started to mess with it trying to find the right key. “It’ll make you feel better!” 

You ignored him continuing to cry. “I wanna be thirty! I wanna be thirty and flirty and thriving.” You swing your head back shaking the shelf behind you. The wishing dust from the dollhouse fell down all around you but you didn't even notice. You could faintly hear Peter playing some tune on his keyboard but you ignored it. Just muttering through your tears over and over how you wanted to be thirty, flirty and thriving. At the moment you wanted to be anywhere but there.

[nhlandotherimagines]

Family isn’t Always Blood-Part 3

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 |

Summary: will it be a boy? A girl? Will Kinsey and Elias be able to plan a wedding while expecting? Guess you’ll have to find out.

Author’s Notes: This took me WAY too long I’m sorry! Let me know what you think though? Was it what you expected? Was it bad? Good? I’d love to hear from you :)

Word Count: approx. 4.5k

Warnings: The usual really. Lots of crying (both happy and sad tears), pregnancy, absent parents, strong language, nothing too crazy though. Let me know if there is anything I should add here please

3…

2…

1!

Elias’ fingers find the zipper on the garment bag, and I place my hand gently over his. His hand shakes under mine, and although I know it’s mostly excitement, I can tell he's nervous as we slowly pull down the zipper together.

As the garment bag falls away, my heart stops. There is no way this is happening, not right now! Elias’ hand drops from mine as he steps back slightly, as the people around me seem to let out a collective gasp. Tears burn my eyes, and before I can stop them, they’re falling down my face. This is NOT what I expected.

“Kinsey?” Elias’ voice is nervous, likely because I’ve yet to react to the scene in front of me. The jersey was not pink, or blue. In fact it wasn’t even a jersey at all. In place of the jersey we had all been anticipating, was a white onesie with red lettering across the front. 

My hands at some point made their way to my face as I’m now using them to hold in the ugly sobs wracking my body. The tears in my eyes blurring the words in front of me, but it doesn’t matter, because I’ll never forget them. I’ll never unsee them. The five words that changed my life. 

WILL YOU MARRY MY DADDY?

“Baby, turn around. Please?” Elias' voice is gentle when he speaks, but it sounds loud in the intense silence that has settled over everyone.

I slowly turn around, my knees feel weak, my vision is blurred, and my entire body is trembling. It’s a miracle I’m still standing, and even breathing for that matter. When I’ve finally turned around completely, my whole world stops. Elias slowly drops down on one knee, and as he looks up at me with those beautiful blue eyes no one else is here. It’s just him and I at this moment. A nervous smile on his face as he slowly pulls open the velvet box I hadn’t even noticed until now, I lose it. I collapse to my knees in front of him, arms wrapping tightly around his neck and as I cry into his shoulder.

“Last time I checked I’m the only one supposed to be on their knee for this.” Elias chuckles, and the room around us does the same, reminding me we aren’t alone. I lean back to look at him, but don’t let go. His face is blotchy, and his eyes are bloodshot as tears stream silently down his face. “Kins, you amaze me more and more each day. You’re an amazing woman, girlfriend, mother, and there is absolutely no question that you’d make the best wife. So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to make you mine. Kinsey Waters, will you marry me?”

“R-really?” The word is choked out in between breaths, as I search his face for hesitation.

“Yes!” He chuckles, lifting the ring up in front of my face. He shakes it teasingly, eyebrows raising as if to say ‘would I be lying?’.

“Yes.” The word tumbles past my lips, and I can’t stop it. Not that I want to. “Oh my god! Yes!” The squeal that escapes me is quickly drowned out by the cheers surrounding me, as I gather Elias’ face in my hands and crash my lips to his.

I cling to Elias like I don’t want to let go, grasping at his shirt, his hair, anything to ground myself. The kiss, the moment, this man; it’s all so overwhelming. I never want it to end. 

As it turns out, not everyone is on board with that. “Okay! Okay! That’s enough, can we please find out about the baby. There will be time to fornicate after we’re all gone!” Brock yells from behind the camera, as more laughter fills the apartment.

Elias groans in response, but pulls away. I smile brightly as he slips the ring onto my finger, and for the first time I actually look at the ring. It’s simple, not too flashy, and yet I know if I saw the receipt I’d likely vomit at the price tag. It’s elegant. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of and so much more. “It’s perfect.” I breathe out, and Elias chuckles. Bringing my hand to his lips he places a gentle kiss to my knuckles before rising to his feet, helping me off the floor in the process.

“Please tell me you have the actual jersey somewhere.” I giggle, catching Brock tapping his foot impatiently out of the corner of my eye.

“I do, one sec!” Elias quickly leaves the room, and I’m immediately swarmed by the other WAGs and Brock. Brock is quick to zoom in on the ring with the camera, as he makes commentary that is definitely not needed, but something Elias and I will both enjoy when we watch the recording back later.

“Okay! ” Elias announces, as he makes his way back into the room. “Are you ready for the real thing?” He’s now holding an identical garment bag to the one we had unzipped minutes prior, and I can’t help but wonder just how difficult this whole surprise was to pull off.

Elias removes the first hanger from the stall, and replaces it with the new garment bag. He motions me over, a large grin on his face, as everyone goes back to where they had previously been standing.

Elias’ hand finds mine again, as we both grip the tiny zipper. It feels different this time. Maybe it’s the ring sitting on my finger, or maybe it’s just the adrenaline coursing through my veins. As the countdown begins around us for the second time today, I become more and more impatient.

3…

2…

1! 

My stomach flutters, and I can’t bring myself to look as Elias’ hand moves with my own to pull down the zipper. Instead I watch him. His eyes bright as they seemingly shimmer with excitement. He’s so beautiful, and he’s mine. My fiancé, and the father of my child. The new weight on my ring finger, and my round stomach physical proof of just that. 

Almost instantaneously, I feel his hand fall from mine and it finds his face, along with the other. He falls again to one knee, but this time he cries into his hands as everyone around us erupts into cheers. The moment feels absolutely surreal, and overwhelming, and I have yet to even look at the tiny jersey in the garment bag. It doesn’t feel like it matters, not in this moment anyway. The only things that matter are that we are happy, life is good, it’s pink, and we are a family. It’s pink.

Immediately my eyes snap back to the now open garment bag that my eyes had previously skipped over. The tiny jersey hanging before me was a tiny replica of the one I was wearing. It’s pink alright. It’s a girl.

As I turn back to Elias, his arms wrap around my waist as he begins whispering against my stomach. Again, all of his words muttered in Swedish. All I can make out is ‘I love you”, and ‘my girls’, and even without understanding any of the other words, my heart swells and tears wet my cheeks again.

I card my fingers through his hair, the beautiful ring standing out even more against the blonde. Cameras and flashes, along with many cheers and exclamations of ‘I knew it!’, fill both the room and my heart. This is it, the family I’ve always craved. Although it may not be conventional, it’s mine. 

———

The movie Elias is playing on the tv does little to hold my attention. Not even because it’s bad, in fact it’s one of my favourites, but my head is all over the place today. 

“Everything okay love?” Elias asks, eyebrows furrowed in worry when I look at him. I nod, but it’s evidently not enough for him to believe me. “Talk to me Kins.” He continues, pressing pause on the movie, removing my only form of distraction.

“She doesn’t have a name.” I’m deflecting, and Elias knows it. Instead of pressing the issue further though, he smiles sweetly over at me. I’m stretched out comfortably across the majority of the couch, my legs draping across his lap. His hand lightly rubs my thigh in comfort. 

“Well did you have any in mind?” I shake my head stretching my hands over my growing bump, my ring on full display. Elias clears his throat, and I can tell he wants to say something, but he looks nervous. “What about your mom?”

“What about her?” My response is unnecessarily rude, but his question caught me completely off guard. He’s been trying for months to get me to talk about her, and I’ve successfully shut him down every time.

“Did you maybe want to incorporate her name?” His eyes refuse to meet my own, instead they stay fixed on his fingers that are busying themselves with the hem of my sweats. The scoff that leaves my mouth is dramatic, sure, but I’m beyond pissed he’d even make that suggestion.

“Why would I? She’s done nothing for me.” 

Elias’ face falls, and his eyes meet mine. The look of pity he sends me would normally make me feel better, but today it makes me even more angry. “I’m sorry, I just thought-“

“Yeah well you thought wrong didn’t you!” I snap, cutting him off as I rise to my feet. I stand up too quickly, and immediately I feel light headed. My knees buckle a bit, and my vision goes fuzzy momentarily. Elias is quick to his feet, hands finding my waist to steady me. 

Once my vision is back, and I feel steady again, I push away from Elias. He calls after me, but I just keep walking. 

It’s not his fault, and I’m being dramatic. As soon as I step into our shared room, I know I’m out of line. It’s embarrassing, my whole life is. How can I tell someone, like Elias, who loves their mom dearly, that when I think of the woman who gave birth to me, the thoughts aren’t pleasant. Very little about my childhood was. Yes, I sound ungrateful, and to a degree I am. There were always good times, always. However it’s hard to look back fondly on those times, when almost all of them are plagued with heartbreak or disappointment in some form or another. 

As I close the bedroom door behind me angrily, I pull off my sweats and crawl into the empty bed. Though I’ve slept without Elias many nights given his schedule, the bed has never felt so lonely. Tears soak my pillowcase, but my body barely even reacts. No dramatic sobbing, or trembling. I just lay here, numb, tears flowing steadily.

After what felt like forever, but was likely only a few minutes, the bedroom door creaks open. I don’t dare to acknowledge Elias as he closes the door behind him quietly. I lay silently, my back to him, as he removes his shirt. The covers pull back, and I feel the bed dip as he climbs in behind me.

We both lay there silently for a moment, neither of us moving. Only a few inches separate us, but they feel like miles. I can’t take the silence, or the fact that I can practically hear the gears turning in my fiancé’s head.

“I’m sorry.” I mumble, sniffling slightly. Elias lets out a breath, before wrapping himself around me. He places a gentle kiss to my head, letting his hand travel under my shirt to rest on my bare stomach.

“Me too.” He whispers into my hair. “I should’ve known, I just thought because it was a tradition, that maybe you’d want to. I didn’t mean to upset you Kins. I’m really sorry.” His voice shakes a little, but he takes a breath again to steady himself before adding, “I love you.”

Before I can even respond to him, it hits me. I sit up quickly, and Elias’ arm falls into my lap. He pushes himself up on his elbows, eyes widening with concern. “Adeline.”

“What?” He is obviously confused, and I can’t blame him. I just ignored his entire apology to blurt out some random name.

“Adeline Irene Pettersson. Addy for short.” I pause, suddenly feeling embarrassed by my wave of excitement. “I don’t know. What do you think?” I pray the nerves aren’t apparent in my voice. Picking a name for a person is a big deal, it has to be perfect.

“Adeline.” Elias repeats the name out loud thoughtfully. The name rolls off of his tongue beautifully, and I can’t fight the smile growing on my face. “Kinsey, I think it’s perfect.”

Elias rolls onto my legs, his face resting just in front of my stomach. I lean back, and run a hand through his hair. 

Placing soft kisses to my stomach, Elias once again whispers to the baby. “Adeline, you have the most amazing momma. She loves you so much. Probably more than she loves me, and that’s a lot.” I can’t help but giggle softly at his words, despite the tears in my eyes. “You’re so loved, and we cannot wait to meet you.”

I smile down at Elias, a single tear slipping down my face. He returns the smile, but it quickly falls as my eyes widen in shock. “She’s kicking!” I practically scream, grabbing Elias’ wrist, bringing his hand over to where I had just felt our daughter kick. He waits hopefully for more movement. 

Moments pass, and still nothing. “C’mon Addy, do it for daddy.” I plead, my heart breaking at the disappointment on Elias’ face.

As if she had actually understood the task she’d been given, the baby kicks even harder than before. Her foot jams hard into my stomach, right against her father’s waiting palm. The feeling, although still relatively new for me, was an entirely new experience for him. His eyes nearly pop out of his head, jaw practically hitting the floor. 

“A daddy’s girl already?” I giggle, another tear slipping down my cheek. “There is no hope for me now.”

Elias shakes his head, and glances up at me briefly. His eyes find mine for just a second, with a smile on his face he looks back at my stomach. “You’re not going to be a daddy’s girl or a momma’s girl are you Addy?” He whispers, as the baby kicks again as if in response to his question. “You’re gonna be your own girl. Strong and independent, just like your momma.”

Elias fell asleep like that a while later. Head resting on my hip, a hand on my stomach, while my hands threaded through his soft hair. Life is good. I have a family now, and I would do anything for either of them. “I will make sure you never question my love for you both. No one deserves that.” I whisper before drifting to sleep myself.

———

“Shit!” Something hitting the floor loudly, followed immediately by Elias cursing wakes me. I’m quickly on my feet and rushing down the hall. I had been asleep on the couch, having passed out while reading some parenting book. So, when I round the corner into our bedroom, I’m confused to find it lacking my fiancé’s presence.

“Elias? Where are you?” I call out, fear lacing my words. 

“I’m in here sweetheart.” He calls back. I follow his voice further down the hall to the guest room.

As I reach the doorway of the guest room, the scene in front of me has a giggle bubbling up my throat. Elias is on the floor, surrounded by various tools and wooden pieces, a frustrated, and thoroughly exhausted look painting his face. “Everything okay in here?”

“Wha- oh yeah.” He huffs, tucking a pencil behind his ear. He’s holding two identical pieces of wood in either hand, letting out another noise of frustration. 

“Whatcha doing?” I place the back of my hand over my mouth trying to suppress my laughter, though my smile is audible in my words.

“Well.” He groans, placing both pieces down before pulling himself to his feet. “The plan was to have the crib together before you woke up from your nap.” He walks to me placing his hands softly on my hips. “Though, as you can see, that hasn’t happened.”

“Well the instructions can’t be that confusing are they?” I smile, and his face falls slightly. “You did use the instructions. Right?” Elias’ cheeks darken, and his eyes fall to his feet. 

“I thought I could do it on my own.” He mumbles, and there is no stopping my laugh now. He frowns in embarrassment, as I do my best to catch my breath. 

“Babe! The instructions don’t do it for you, they are a guideline for you to do it. On your own.” I explain shaking my head with a giggle, and pushing past him into the room. I quickly find the instructions crumpled into a ball on the floor. I unfold it, and read through it quickly. 

“Well?” His voice hopeful, as he watches me inspect the now crinkled paper. 

“Yeah I have no idea.” I sigh, leaning against the wall. “Time to call in the boys I think.”

———

“Who thought it was wise to let the three of you do this?” I giggle, placing three beer down on the dresser.

“You?” Quinn answers, eyebrows furrowed in confusion while Elias sends me a glare. 

“Oh right. Well I’ll just blame my poor judgement on the pregnancy.” 

Elias is obviously getting quite flustered about the whole process. He curses in Swedish, while poor Quinn sits beside him looking scared for his life. Brock finally finishes screwing two pieces together, and beams over at me before grabbing a beer. “Thanks Kins!”

“You’re very welcome Brock.” I place a hand on my stomach and make a point of talking dramatically. “See Addy? That’s why uncle Brock is our favourite.” 

“Addy?” Quinn and Brock both ask in unison. 

“Adeline. Addy for short.” Elias explains, with a smile bright enough to blind someone.

“What do you guys think?” I ask, pulling my lip between my teeth. Sure, we don’t need anyone’s approval, but their opinions are very important to both Elias and myself.

“It’s cute!” Quinn smiles at me.

“Cute?” Brock sends Quinn a look I could only describe as a mix between shock and disappointment. My heart rate increases. Great Brock hates it! “It's absolutely beautiful!”

The sigh of relief that leaves my body has all three men laughing. I can’t help but join in, as the three of them begin bickering over the next step in the crib building process. They are always so chaotic, and yet I love every second of the chaos. This baby will likely learn all kinds of trouble from Brock and Quinn, but I certainly wouldn’t want it any other way.

———

As my pregnancy progresses, Elias becomes more and more doting almost daily. Not letting me lift anything bigger than a book, tying my shoes, helping me get dressed, you name it and he’s done it. Honestly, it’s become slightly annoying. On nights like this though, I truly appreciate it. 

Elias sits on one end of the couch, as I lay across its length, my feet in his lap. He rubs the balls of my feet, as I write in the wedding planner he’d purchased not long after our engagement. He smiles softly at me, as I chew the end of my pen deep in thought as I stare at the guest list. 

“How many groomsmen do you want?” The question falls past my lips as he reaches over to pull the pen from between my teeth.

“Well, definitely I’d want my brother as my best man, and probably three more guys. To keep it even just how you like it.” Elias winks, nudging my leg with a chuckle. I roll my eyes, but smile anyway, because he’s absolutely right. Even numbers are always nice.

“Okay.” Four people is reasonable, but now I have to find a maid of honour and three bridesmaids. That shouldn’t be hard, but I have no idea who to ask. Holly for sure was a given, but beyond her I wouldn’t even know where to start. 

“Are we inviting your parents?” Elias’ question comes entirely out of left field, and it feels like someone punched me in the throat. Were we? Do I want to? Should I? They only know about Elias from a singular instagram post. They don’t even know about the baby. 

Elias must see the gears in my head turning, because he sends me a soft smile. “Why don’t we make invitations for them, and you can decide later if you want to send them or not? No need to let it stress you out too much babe.”

Reluctantly I agree. Would I regret not inviting them? Would I regret inviting them?

———

I’ve spent the last week making the invitations, painting each by hand. Was it crazy to do? Yes absolutely. I know that, but I want them to be personal.

“Have you even moved since I left?” Elias’ voice startles me. He left some time ago for his morning practice, at that point I had already been up working on them for an hour. He chuckles as I shrug, and places a kiss to my temple. “You’re crazy.”

“And yet, you’re going to marry me.” I tease, sticking my tongue out at him. 

He places a sweet kiss to my lips, pulling away with a smirk. “Who told you that?” 

Rolling my eyes, I shove a hand playfully into his chest. “Well you don’t have to, but if I just spent a whole week making these invitations and there isn’t going to be a wedding,” I pause sending him a ‘threatening’ glare. “You better run Pettersson.”

Throwing his head back, Elias laughs heartily. Hand clutching his stomach, as he struggles to catch his breath. “You’re adorable.” He manages to get out between laughs.

“Great, so you’ll drop these off at the post office on your way to the rink later.” Punctuating my request with a wink. 

A groan leaves my body as I pull myself from the chair at the kitchen table. Elias is quickly by my side in aid, no longer laughing. His face twists in concern, hands finding my hips. “Don’t worry babe, I’ll drop them off. Now come nap with me?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead he wraps a hand softly around my wrist, pulling me gently in the direction of our bedroom. 

I can’t argue. Instead I follow him, body aching from how I’d been sitting at the table all morning. Elias carefully pulls back the covers, rearranging my pillows, and strips down to just his sweats. I quietly thank him as I attempt to get comfortable, something that’s become increasingly more difficult as of late. 

Climbing in behind me, Elias pulls me into his side and places a hand gently across my growing bump. “You going to let Momma rest Addy?” He asks softly, eyes already closing. I watch him closely, and a small smile forms on his face as he rubs gentle circles on my stomach.

“You know watching someone sleep is kind of weird.” His voice is gravely and my face flushes in embarrassment.

“I wasn’t-“

“Mhm.” His lips quirk up into a smirk, eyes not opening once. “Get some rest babe.”

“Fine.” I grumble, placing my head on his chest. His breathing evens out, and his heart beat is steady in my ear. I place a hand on his chest, curling into his side the best I can given the fact my stomach is in the way. My fingers lazily trace patterns across his bare chest, eyes beginning to feel heavy.

“Love you Kins.” Elias’ voice is low, and I can hear how tired he is.

“Love you too Lias.”

It’s not long before Elias is snoring quietly beneath me. Everything feels so right, here in his arms. Like nothing bad could happen. With the feeling of ease settling into my bones, it isn’t long before I’m falling asleep too.

———

Somehow I managed to sleep through Elias getting up and getting ready. When I finally wake up, he is long gone. 

Picking up my phone, my face lights up at the message displayed on my screen.

Elias❤️: I let you sleep. You needed it. Don’t worry though, the invitations were mailed. There is some pizza in the fridge for you if you want it. See you tonight xx

I respond with a quick thank you text, making sure to wish him luck with his game. Grabbing some pizza I settle into the sofa, and turn the game on. 

Watching Elias play hockey always manages to put a smile on my face. He’s so incredibly talented, and extremely humble. It’s one of the many things I love about him. 

No matter how important hockey is to him though, he always makes sure I know that our family is more important. Always. It’s the reassurance I never knew I needed, but Elias has always made sure it’s there without being asked.

———

Lazy Sundays have become somewhat routine for Elias and I. We wake up, Elias works out while I write, we eat breakfast together, and we spend the rest of the day working on our own things. Today has gone a lot like that. 

Currently I’m editing some of my writings while Elias scrolls through Instagram from his spot beside me. Aside from the clicking of my keyboard as I type, and an occasional chuckle from Elias, the room is peaceful. That is until there is a knock on the door. “Babe can you answer that please?” 

Elias hums in response, pulling himself from the couch. We aren’t expecting anyone, but it’s not uncommon for one of the boys to drop in, or to have someone trying to sell us something on a Sunday. So much to my surprise it’s a woman’s voice at the door, asking for me specifically. “Is Kinsey here?”

Elias walks back into the living room, a look of confusion on his face. “There is someone at the door for you babe?” His statement sounds more like a question, and has my heart rate increasing. Who could be at the door looking for me? What happened?

Setting my laptop on the coffee table, I pull myself awkwardly from the couch. I take a moment to adjust my tshirt and fix my hair before rounding the corner. The figure standing in the doorway, has me stopping dead in my tracks. My face pales, as my body goes rigid. This must be some sick joke.

Grasped in her hand is an envelope. One I recognize well, because I had sealed it weeks ago. I knew making that invite was a bad idea. 

“Mom?”

———

Another cliff hanger? Why not? Let me know what you think! Part 4 is going to take some time, but I will get it out eventually I promise!

Tagging: @anastasiyaigorevnadobrodevskaya @heatherawoowoo @dripkingpetey @ya-pucking-nerd @jonnytoews19

[cto10121]

The bad Shakespeare takes keep coming, I see. This one had the cleverness to couch itself as a personal narrative (makes it much more interesting, tbh). But as bad Shakespeare takes are my bread and butter, my boon and bane, mamma mia here we go again, with Merchant of Venice.

“But those who thought the play was irredeemably antisemitic were, the consensus went, vulgar and whiny—​and, completely coincidentally, they were also Jewish, which somehow magically invalidated their opinions on this subject.”

I’m glad (is that even the right word?) this author found scholars that don’t think this play is anti-Semitic, but my experience with scholarship has been way more mixed than that. Suffice to say, this is literally all the play is known for these days, and views of the play as anti-Semitic are everywhere (Rosenbaum even had a hot take that since the Nazis liked it, it must be anti-Semitic). Didn’t know Harold Bloom thinks this play is anti-Semitic, though. That in itself is a bit of a red flag, as Bloom is a notoriously poor reader of Shakespeare.

“[I]n Merchant, Portia unhappily fulfills her father’s requirements of her suitors, while in Il Pecorone, the lady enjoys drugging her suitors and robbing them blind. By removing this detail, Shakespeare removed the suggestion that malicious schemers come from all walks of life.”

Or, by removing this detail, Shakespeare removed the clear and abhorrent sexism of his original source that turned a woman robbed of her autonomy by her father’s will into a criminal. It’s almost as if you’re damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

“Dr. Lopez, one of the most respected physicians of the 16th century, had indiscreetly revealed that he once treated the Earl of Essex for venereal disease. The earl took revenge by framing Dr. Lopez for treason and arranging for his torture; while on the rack, Dr. Lopez “confessed”—​though “like a Jew,” as the court record states, he denied all charges at trial, while the attorney for the Crown referred to him matter-​of-​factly as “a perjuring murdering traitor and Jewish doctor.”

This is a very twisted account of the Lopez affair and Essex’s motives in going against him, at least to my understanding. For context, Lopez was accused of receiving loads of money from the King of Spain to poison Queen Elizabeth.

According to Stephen Greenblatt, in Will of the World: “Essex had tried some years before to recruit Lopez as a secret agent. Lopez’s refusal—he chose instead directly to inform the queen—may have been prudent, but it created in the powerful earl a very dangerous enemy. After his arrest, he was initially imprisoned at Essex House and interrogated by the earl himself. But Lopez had powerful allies in the rival faction of the queen’s senior adviser William Cecil, Lord Burghley, and his son, Robert Cecil, who also participated in the interrogation and reported to the queen that the charges against her physician were baseless.” Lopez apparently had been taken bribes from various sources, and confessed (freely? under torture?) “that he had indeed entered into a treasonous-sounding negotiation with the king of Spain, but he insisted that he had done so only in order to cozen the king out of his money.” Weird.

Greenblatt isn’t a historian, though, and Essex was indeed an asshole to Lopez, (and for what is worth, I feel Lopez was innocent; I just get those vibes) but so far I can find no other source that Essex actively framed Lopez. Most likely he did some sleuthing, dug up some questionable, compromising stuff, and tried to blow a hearth flame into a firestorm.

“After all, the historical record gives Queen Elizabeth a cookie for dawdling on signing Dr. Lopez’s death warrant; her doubts about his guilt even led her to mercifully allow his family to keep his property, not unlike the equally merciful Duke of Venice in Shakespeare’s play.”

Again, Lopez had powerful allies (doesn’t get much higher than Burghley), and again, re: Greenblatt: “According to court observers, Elizabeth gave Essex a tongue-lashing, ‘calling him rash and temerarious youth, to enter into a matter against the poor man, which he could not prove, and whose innocence she knew well enough.’” A cupcake, then?

“And it is of course entirely unclear whether this trial and public humiliation of an allegedly greed-​driven Jew attempting to murder an upstanding Christian, rapturously reported in the press with myriad antisemitic embellishments, had anything at all to do with Shakespeare’s play about the trial and public humiliation of a greed-​driven Jew attempting to murder an upstanding Christian—​which Shakespeare composed shortly after Dr. Lopez decomposed. Most likely these things were completely unrelated.”

Nearly all the major Shakespeare biographies and articles I’ve read literally and explicitly talks about the possible influence of Lopez’s execution on Merchant of Venice and names it as an inspiration: Greenblatt, (he even headcanons that Shakespeare watched the execution!) Bate, Ackroyd. That’s how Horn managed to ping my BS radar something awful—because I had read about it, many times, even if it was mentioned in passing. It’s solid, legit Shakespearean academic fanon. The sarcasm is really unwarranted, and childish besides.

“It was damned hard to hear the nuance while parsing lines like “Certainly the Jew is the very devil incarnal,” or “My master’s a very Jew; give him a present, give him a halter,” or explaining what Shylock meant when he planned to “go in hate, to feed upon / The prodigal Christian.”

The first two are the fool’s, Lancelot’s, lines, I think. As for Shylock’s hatred toward Christians, while ugly, it’s entirely understandable given the Christian characters’ treatment of him pre-play and during it (Antonio spitting on Shylock’s gaberdine and then asking him to borrow money from him is called out by Shylock himself for its sheer hypocrisy). It also fits Shylock’s character as an unassimilated Jew, resenting Christian hypocrisy and racism.

“The actor began the brief soliloquy that every English-​speaking Jew is apparently meant to take as a compliment: ‘I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? . . . ​If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?’

“Wait, that’s the part where he’s more human?”

[…]“Sure,” I told my son, game-​facing him back in the rearview. “He’s reminding us how he’s like everyone else. He’s a normal person with normal feelings.”

My son laughed. “You seriously fell for that?”

[…] “What do you mean?”

“Shylock’s just saying he wants revenge! Like, ‘Oh, yeah? If I’m a regular human, then I get to be eee-​vil like a regular human!’ This is the evil monologue thing that every supervillain does! ‘I’ve had a rough life, and if you were me you would do the same thing, so that’s why I’m going to KILL BATMAN, mu-​hahaha!’ He’s just manipulating the other guy even more!”

And then the crowd applauded, Harold Bloom cried, and the mayor gave the author’s six-year-old son a gold medal for his Brave Hot Take. Honestly, this was the most unbelievable part of the essay I’ve read. Unless this kid has been reading academic essays on MoV that posit this exact same interpretation (“Shylock was just using humanistic rhetoric to justify his ~bloodthirsty revenge!”), this one’s for a fake Internet stories anthology. Shylock may be a dour, miserable pain in the ass, but he is no Barabas, an actual anti-Semitic caricature—he has a character, and a recognizably human one, and the play bears it out that he is right in his anger.

“I reviewed the other moments scholars cite to prove Shylock’s “humanity.” There were two lines of Shylock treasuring his dead wife’s ring, unlike the play’s Christian men who give their wives’ rings away. But unlike the other men, Shylock never gets his ring back—​because his daughter steals it, and becomes a Christian, and inherits what remains of his estate at the play’s triumphant end.”

Er, this is a non sequitur—that last has nothing to do with the first. The point is, Shylock doesn’t give away his ring; the fact that his daughter stole it means nothing to his treasuring it. It may be proof of the play’s marginalization of Shylock (which accurately if sadly reflects real-life systematic marginalization), but not his humanity. Shakespeare just doesn’t do backstories, even for major characters, so it is significant that he gave Shylock a wife/beloved in the first place.

“Finally, scholars point to the many times Shylock explains why he is so revolting: Christians treat him poorly, so he returns the favor. But for this to satisfy, one must accept that Jews are revolting to begin with, and that their repulsiveness simply needs to be explained.”

This makes absolutely no sense at all. If one accepts Jews are inherently revolting, then no explanation need be given for when a Jewish character acts revolting! The racist accepts the revolting Jewish characterization without qualm. The fact that the play insists on his grievance is significant.

“We listened together as Shylock went to court to extract his pound of flesh; as the heroine, chirping about the quality of mercy, forbade him to spill the Christian’s blood as he so desperately desired; as the court confiscated his property, along with his soul through forced conversion; as the play’s most cherished characters used his own words to taunt and demean him, relishing their vanquishing of the bloodthirsty Jew.”

YMMV, but to me there are no cherished characters in this play. That’s the whole point! Everyone is so mired in this dreary capitalist materialism that denigrates genuine human connection into mere transaction. Everything to these characters is money, money, money (and class), or at least tainted by it. Shylock is simply the most overt (and honest) of the lot. Love relationships, religion are impoverished; Portia and Bassanio are scarcely more suited than Portia and her other suitors. Shylock and Antonio are Jews and Christians in-name-only: They are capitalists first and foremost. Portia is a smarter, more likable Karen. Lancelot isn’t funny. Jessica is okay, but her leaving her father is framed as a asshole moment at least in one instance. Portia is probably the most lovable, but she has her asshole moments too. There are no truly awful characters, but you don’t need to demonize and dehumanize your whole cast into two-dimensional racists just to make a point.

Merchant of Venice is not the best of plays. It is one of Shakespeare’s experiments, a proto-problem play before his Jacobean era, using dark comedy and a slight bent of farce to explore and elucidate social issues, racism and discrimination, chiefly. At least it tries, anyway. Taming of the Shrew is the first proto-problem play done completely farcical, which at least makes it compelling in a slapstick-satire way; Merchant is much more sociologically astute, but also more dull and coolly distant even from its own concerns. I don’t blame anyone, much less Jewish people, for not liking the play or thinking it a masterpiece. I myself don’t, though for reasons that have nothing to do with the usual ones. I like what Shakespeare was trying to do and I think he did some things very well. It has ambition and thought. But I feel like for most of it Shakespeare was on writing autopilot while mentally looking around for something a bit meatier to adapt and develop. It’s a jogging-in-one-place play; he has a couple of those.

In sum: Author argues for complicated play’s anti-Semitism, ends up just saying the racist slurs by the flawed/asshole Christian characters made her and her son uncomfortable (feat. A distorted and even misleading account of the Lopez affair). Plus some internalized anti-Semitism to sort through, methinks.

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Aftermath (Liam x MC)

Summary: Aftermath of the car crash

Honestly...Liam just deserves a space to be emotional, and angry, and vulnerable, and I decided to be the one to give him that. It’s been a rough few chapters for him, dealing with all of this stuff with his mom, and now his wife. I wrote this for purely selfish reasons.

Word Count: 6.6K. Sorry. I couldn’t stop myself.

Tags: @canknot @lapisreviewsstuff @akacalliope  @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @aworldoffandoms @badchoicesposts @doroshi-desu @senseofduties

~~~~

Liam tries to ignore the ringing in his head as he sits anxiously in the waiting room of the hospital. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Maxwell on the phone, probably talking to Bertrand. And he can hear his friends talking — maybe Olivia or Hana, he doesn’t know — but it sounds like white noise. He has a singular thing on his mind: his wife and child.

Kendall was transported via helicopter to a hospital in the Capital, Liam riding along with her while the rest of their group followed behind. Now the entire gang, minus Kendall and Bastien, is sitting in a luxurious private sitting area, waiting on updates. The room is thankfully secluded from most of the hospital, and large, with comfortable couches, magazines, and a flat screen tv mounted on the wall. But no one cares. They’re all waiting on updates.

The image of the car crash is still fresh in Liam’s mind. The sickening crunch of metal as the car rammed into the road, the blinding lights of the paparazzi cameras, the sound of Kendall calling his name as they crashed.

Hit his stomach flips at the memory of his wife losing consciousness upon the arrival of the ambulance. She held out as long as she could, mostly due to adrenaline, but she eventually passed out.

It’s been three hours and he still hasn’t heard anything. Everyone else was treated for their injuries — mostly some cuts and bruises, save for Bastien who was getting treated for his shoulder — except for Kendall. And himself, because he refuses to leave the waiting area until he gets some answers.

“Liam,” Drake says softly, shaking his friend’s shoulder, “Liam, you should really get your head checked out.”

“I’m fine,” Liam says, his eyes never leaving the tiled floors.

“Dude, you can have a concussion or something. We can at least have a nurse come out here,” Drake suggests. He’s trying his hardest to be useful in this situation. The helplessness is driving him insane.

“I’m fine,” Liam repeats, much more aggressive this.

“Just leave it alone, Drake,” Olivia says softly, cutting in. “Leave him alone.”

“But–”

“Leave it alone.” Olivia knows all too well the feeling of being trapped and helpless, but until they get an update on Kendall, there isn’t much anyone can do for Liam. He’s not going to budge. “Please.”

Drake sighs but ultimately backs down. He glances around the room, spotting a fancy coffee maker on the counter. “How about I make some coffee. Does anyone want a cup?”

“Sure,” Maxwell says. It’s obvious that Drake is going to find a way to do something, so someone has to humor him. “Give me the strongest cup you got.”

“Coming right up.”

There’s a knock on the door, and in walks Bastien. His arm is in a sling, there’s a small cut  on his upper lip from a shard of glass slicing him, and he walks with a slight limp. He’s also holding a plastic bag in his hand, holding some personal belongings.

He walks over to Liam who promptly stands up. Bastien greets him with a slight bow. “Your Majesty.”

“Bastien. How are you feeling?”

“I’m a little banged up, but I’ve been worse. My shoulder should heal within a few weeks.”

“You’re limping,” Liam points out. 

“I just sprained my ankle. I can handle it, sir.”

“Once this is all settled, I want you on paid vacation for the next three weeks,” Liam says.

“Sir, that’s not necessary.”

“It is, and you’ll take it, I insist. Go out, enjoy some time off, rest up and properly heal your injury. The rest of our security team can handle it, and trust me, after tonight, we’ll be doubling, even tripling our security measures.”

Bastien’s head drops at the mention of what happened just a few short hours ago. “Your Majesty, I am so sorry about what happened tonight.”

“Bastien it’s not your fault.”

“But–”

“Someone recklessly ran into us and you made a snap decision in an attempt to keep us safe. It was a high stress situation. I don’t blame you, I blame Sam-” Liam can’t even say his name without his skin feeling like it’s going to burst into flames. “You made the right call in a snap decision.”

“I should’ve had more security measures in place at the bookstore,” Bastien continues. He can’t help but feel guilty.

“Bastien, I won’t have you blaming yourself. That’s a direct order from your King.”

Bastien nods after a few seconds of silence. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Now, as for the person who did this, are there any updates on his condition?”

In all honesty, a part of Liam hoped that the man was dead. It would be the swift justice he deserved after what he did.

“Nothing more than a few cuts and scrapes when I last saw him,” Bastien answers regretfully. “He fled the scene.”

Liam clenches his fist together tightly. So his Queen is in the hospital fighting for her life, while the perpetrator gets away minor injuries?

He closes his eyes and silently counts to 3 in his head, calming himself down. Unbridled rage in a situation like this will do him no good.

So he pivots. He points to the large bag in Bastien’s hand. “What’s in there?”

Bastien opens the bag and lifts out a large camera. “This...is Samir’s camera. I managed to confiscate it from him at the scene of the accident before he ran off.”

Liam takes the camera out of Bastien’s hands and observes it thoughtfully. He carefully touches it, noting that it’s not too banged up. “It’s in surprisingly good condition,” he muses. “Did you go through it?”

“...Yes. And I’ll dispose of it right away.”

“I want to see the photos.”

“Sir,” Bastien starts, “with all due respect, I don’t advise you to do that. The images are...quite disturbing.”

Liam ignores his guard and powers the camera to life. He scrolls through the photos, skipping through ones of celebrities and socialites around Cordonia. He then stumbles on the pictures of them tonight. Ones of them exiting the book store. There’s a few progression shots of Kendall holding up her hand, trying to shield her face from the flashing lights, another hand wrapped tightly around her stomach.

There’s more of them, photos of their friends ushering Kendall in the car and driving off. And then there are lots of them that he took while he was driving alongside them on the road. Liam’s chest clenches tightly at the panicked and wide-eyed look on his wife’s face.

He’s not prepared for the next set of pictures. They’re right after the car crash, and Liam can see everything so vividly. The shattered glass, the smoke from the engine, skid marks on the snow, everything. Liam’s breath catches in his throat as he sees a photo of Kendall, trapped in her seat. He can practically feel the fear and anxiousness rolling off of her in these photos, and it feels like he can’t breathe.

Samir has the audacity to still take photos of them after he caused the accident? While Kendall was lying there, injured and scared out of her mind?

At this point, Liam can feel his hands trembling uncontrollably and the sound of his pulse pounds fiercely in his head. Having seen more than enough, Liam takes the memory card out of the camera and puts it in his pocket. Without warning and an incredible bout of strength, he hurls the camera forward with an incredible speed. It narrowly misses Maxwell’s head and he has to duck out of the way as the camera hits the wall, shattering into tiny little pieces as it drops to the floor.

The room gets so silent, you can hear a pin drop across the street. No one says anything about Liam’s outburst. They silently wait for him to make his next move.

All Liam can feel in his blood is white hot rage over the situation. It’s stifling and it threatens to swallow him whole. Involuntarily, he clenches and unclenches his hand and the next thing he sees is his fist connecting with the wall. He doesn’t register the pain though, too worked up to actually feel anything at this point.

“Lady Hana, can you please find a nurse?” Bastien asks, his eyes never leaving Liam. He’s seen his King mad before, hell, he’s even seen him downright pissed. But this...this is something he’s never experienced before, and he doesn’t know how to subdue Liam in this moment.

“Of course.” Hana rises from her seat and quickly scrambles out of the room.

After a few moments of silence, Liam removes his fist from the wall. He looks down at it in a daze. He can already see it swelling up, and his knuckles turning an ugly shade of purple.

He ignores his hand and turns back to Bastien. “I want him found, immediately. I want law enforcement, airports, and train stations to all be aware that he’s on the loose and he is not to leave the station. Check all the ports too, and make sure he doesn’t try to sneak out of here via boat. I want him brought directly to me.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“And give me information on what tabloids he was going to sell those pictures too. And if you can get the names of the paps who caused that scene in the Lythikos and if there were any other paparazzi chasing us, that’d be great as well.”

Bastien nods. “I’ll get in touch with the other royal guards and we’ll get started right away.”

“Thank you.”

Bastien exits the room and a few minutes later, Hana returns with a nurse, who’s carrying a ton of supplies in her hands.

As the nurse makes her way over to Liam to tend to his hand, Hana sinks back into her seat next to Olivia. “Were there any updates while I was gone?”

Olivia shakes her head. “No. The waiting game continues.”

~V~

An hour later, they’re still in the waiting room, anxiously waiting on an update about Kendall. The entire gang is there, except they’re now joined by Bertrand, Savannah, Regina and Leo, who was in Rome when Bastien called and said he was needed in Cordonia.

“I called a few of my personal security connections and they’re doing a very thorough sweep of Lythikos to ensure that all of the press that was there are brought to the capital,” Olivia tells Liam. It’s really the least she can do. They were visiting her duchy, she should’ve been able to keep them safe.

Liam nods, acknowledging that he did hear the Duchess, but doesn’t say anything. The more time that goes by without any update on his wife and child, the more reclusive he becomes.

Leo smiles. “Thank you Olivia, it’s really appreciated.”

“Of course. If there’s anything else I can do to help, I’ll do it.”

“Can you heal Kendall?” Liam asks.

The question catches Olivia off guard, and she doesn’t know if Liam is being serious or using sarcasm. “W-What?”

“You want to be useful, right? You want to help? Can you magically become a doctor within the next 5 seconds and actually work on her treatment? Perhaps you can make sure she hasn’t gone into preterm labor, or I don’t know, swap our bodies, so she’s the one out here and I’m the patient. Maybe you have the ability to turn back time so this horrible night never happened.” His eyes sweep around the room. “Can any of you do those things? Because that’s all I want in this moment. I don’t want any fucking cheap hospital coffee, I don’t want to eat something, I don’t want take a nap, I don’t want any more of your bullshit platitudes about how strong and brave Kendall is in an attempt to placate me. I know how strong my wife is, but our car wrapped around a fucking pole, and she’s not invincible. So until anyone can give me any of those, how about everyone stop trying to pacify me.”

“Okay,” Olivia says. She’s not going to press the issue and potentially agitate Liam further. He just needs silent support in this moment, nothing else. And she can do that. She just sits down in the chair next to him and looks straight ahead.

Time ticks by slowly, and when Liam checks the clock on that wall, it’s almost 2 in the morning. He’s exhausted, but he refuses to fall asleep, though most of his friends have dozed. 

There’s a knock on the waiting room door and Liam jumps to his feet, hoping to see Kendall’s doctor. Instead he’s greeted by Madeleine. She’s dressed impeccably, in a signature green dress, and clipped back hair. She’s carrying a large garment bag in one hand, and a cup of coffee in the other.

Liam falters once he realizes who it is. “Oh, hello Madeleine.”

“Liam,” Madeleine greets back. “Any updates on Kendall’s condition?”

“No.”

“Have you talked to law enforcement?” Madeleine asks.

“No.”

“Maddy, I think this conversation should be tabled for a later time,” Olivia hisses. 

Madeline dismisses Olivia’s suggestion with a flick of the wrist. “I think you should talk to them while everything is still fresh in your mind.”

“I’m not talking to anyone or going anywhere until I talk to Kendall’s doctors.”

“There’s a herd of people outside of the hospital,” Madeleine says. She drops the garment bag onto an empty chair. “I almost wasn’t let in, until they realized I worked for the palace. Everyone is waiting on their king to make an official statement about what happened.”

“I’m not crafting a speech right now, Madeleine.”

“It’s a good thing you have me on your team because I’ve already prepared some talking points for you,” Madeleine announces proudly. “I don’t know if you want to convey a somber tone or a fiery, passionate one, but I have tweaks in the event of either one. I personally think we should go with a somber note. Let them feel all of your emotions, your hurt, your anguish. Obviously you condemn the people who did this, but don’t go full on angry. You should still be the pinnacle of calm and dignified that the Cordonian people have come to love. And I brought you a suit to change into, because no offense, you’re still wearing the one you crashed in and it’s–”

Liam reaches out and forcefully grabs Madeleine’s arm, yanking her towards him and making her drop the cup of coffee she’s holding. It happens so fast, Olivia barely has time to react, but she stands up beside Liam nonetheless. “Madeleine, I put up with a lot of your unnecessary, invasive bullshit on a daily basis. Kendall and I take your shitty attitude, your disapproving looks and your passive aggressive comments in stride because you’re somewhat decent at your job and you have absolute tunnel vision when it comes to the Crown and Cordonia as a whole. But what I am not about to do is dress up and be your puppet and give a ridiculous speech in front of the very vultures who caused this situation.”

“I don’t know whether my wife and child are going to make it through the night, and you think I give even the tiniest fuck about a statement? You think I want to put on a brave face right now and go settle someone else’s nerves right now, I don’t give a damn about how people view me?” His grip on her arm tightens and his voice drops to an incredibly low octave. “Now I know you aren’t able to feel empathy towards people because you’re a cold hearted, advantageous viper and you probably have a shriveled up lump of coal in the cavity where your heart is supposed to reside, but can you at least pretend to have some sort of human decency? I am not doing a goddamn thing until I have a doctor tell me to my face that Kendall is alive and well. Am. I. Clear?”

Madeleine has never seen Liam like this before. His usually warm and inviting eyes are darker than the midnight sky and even though he hadn’t raised his voice once, she can practically feel the venom dripping from his tongue. She swallows the lump forming in her throat and nods. “Crystal.”

“Good.” Liam drops her arm and Madeleine releases a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. “And when this is all over, we are going to have a very serious conversation about your position on our team”

Having had enough of being cooped up in a room with so many people, Liam decides to exit. Thankfully, the halls are empty due to how late it is and he can roam around in peace.

“Liam!” Liam stops dead in his tracks and turns around. Leo is jogging towards him trying to catch up.

“Leo, what do you want?”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve scared Madeleine shitless. I’ve never seen her rendered speechless before.”

“Good. She talks too much.”

“Amen, brother.”

“Look Leo, I really don’t want to be bothered right now.”

“I know.”

“So...you can leave.”

“I can’t do that. You aren’t going to scare me off like you’re able to do with everyone else, and I am not going to let you bottle everything up inside. So, can you please talk to me?”

“And say what?”

“Anything! I know you’re pissed–”

“I’m not pissed, I’m downright furious,” Liam says. 

“Good. You have every right to be,” Leo goads. He wants Liam to talk. He’s an expert at holding his feelings close and burying things down deep.

“I don’t think I’ve been this mad since I found out that dad was the one behind the scandal with Kendall and Tariq. These vultures just prey on her. They don’t even see her as human anymore, let alone as their Queen. Kendall is just a commodity to them, to be exploited and sold to the highest bidder. From the moment we got married up to now, it has been invasion after invasion.”

“Why didn’t you tell me things had gotten so bad?” Leo asks.

Liam shrugs. He’s accepted the press as a part of his life early on, and didn’t think much of it. And until recently he was relatively good terms with a lot of reporters and paparazzi. “I don’t know. Dealing with the press is just par for the course.”

“Yes, you’re a king and yes your life is public, but that doesn’t mean it’s open season on your family. Sometimes I don’t think you realize that you don’t have to always be so...nice. So benevolent and forgiving. You’re the fucking King, and you have the right flex whatever muscle you have in order to let people know that there are certain things that they can and cannot do.”

Liam sighs. He’s never wanted to rule with an iron fist and be seen as evil tyrant, squashing anyone who dares look at him the wrong way. He’s always wanted his people to feel comfortable around him.

“You can still be yourself,” Leo continues as if he’s reading Liam’s mind. “But they need to know that this will never happen again.”

“You’re right.”

“And if you need some support, I’ll be around to help,” Leo adds.

“Thank you.”

The men continue their trek up and down the hall, falling into a comfortable silence. Leo knows Liam isn’t in the mood for idle small talk, as he has much bigger things in his mind.

The brothers are startled out of their simple walk by a doctor walking towards them. He bows upon reaching Liam. “Your Majesty, hello.”

“Hi.”

“I’m Doctor Saunders, I’m one of the attending general surgeons here at the hospital.” The doctor extends his hand, and Liam eagerly shakes it. “I am one of the surgeons assigned to your wife’s case.”

“Of course. What’s going on? We haven’t heard anything and we’ve been here for hours and no one has told us anything.”

“Good news first, Her Majesty and the baby are okay and they made it through surgery beautifully,” Dr. Saunders says.

Relief flows through Liam’s body and his knees buckle at the news. Leo hooks an arm under his brother’s arm, keeping him upright. “T-They’re okay?”

Dr. Saunders nods, happy to give the King such good news. “Yes. The Queen is not in any distress, there’s no sign of preterm labor, the baby has a stable heart beat and the placenta is still in tact, which are all great.”

“What happened to her?”

“The impact of the crash caused abdominal trauma. There was some internal bleeding that we had to get under control, and her spleen ruptured so we had to remove it. Thankfully, you can live a long and productive life without a spleen, but going forward, Her Majesty will be more susceptible to infection and may have a weaker immune system. Since she’s pregnant and we had to perform an open surgery, her recovery time will be about 4 to 6 weeks, but we expect her to be back to herself in no time. And she did break one rib and bruise two others. Now there’s no way to fix a broken rib, except with rest and time, so she’ll be a bit sore for a while and she’s going to have to take it easy.”

“Of course.” Kendall isn’t going to have to lift a finger, not on his watch. “Where is she now? Can I see her?”

“She’s being settled into her room right now, but yes I can take you.”

Liam starts to follow the doctor, but stops in his tracks to turn to his brother. Leo waves him off. “I’ll tell everyone the news. Go see your wife.”

~V~

The sun is finally starting to rise when Kendall is lulled out of her sleep. It takes her a minute to understand her surroundings. The noise, the itchy blankets, the overwhelming smell of disinfectant. She’s definitely not in her own bed, at Valtoria or the Palace.

She looks around the room as her eyes slowly adjust to the light and she finally spots her husband. He’s on a pull out couch, curled into the fetal position. 

“Liam?” She says, her voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper. She clears her throat and attempts to speak again. “Liam?”

He stirs in his sleep and mumbles, “Mhmmm.”

“Liam!” Kendall repeats, a bit more forcefully.

The third time manages to get his attention and he wakes up from his sleep. He sees Kendall and he springs off of the couch. “Kendall? Oh Kendall, my love, you have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

“Why are we at the hospital?”

“Do you remember anything? The last thing that happened?”

“We were in Lythikos for Maxwell’s book signing,” Kendall recalls. 

“Anything else?”

“And as we were leaving, there was a mob of reporters outside of the bookstore. And we tried to get them to back off, but they were relentless. And once we got into the car, they still chased us and…” her voice trails off and she closes her eyes, trying to think. Everything is still slightly foggy. But then she remembers. The crash. “Oh my God, Liam! Someone hit us! Is everyone okay? Is the baby okay?”

Kendall tries to sit up as the panic sets in, but an overwhelming amount of pain shoots through her stomach, rendering her motionless.

Liam puts his hands on her arms, keeping her in place. “Easy, love. No sudden movements, you’ve just had surgery.”

“Surgery? Surgery for what?”

“First things first, the baby is fine,” Liam assures her. He points to one of the monitors surround her bedside. “See that? That’s our baby’s heart rate, nice and steady.” Hearing that their baby is okay instantly calms her down. “And you had surgery because your spleen ruptured, so the doctors had to remove it. And you broke a rib.”

“But the baby is fine?”

“As perfect as ever.”

Kendall settles back into the bed, relief coursing through her body. As long as her child was okay, she could handle everything else. “Good.”

Liam calls for Kendall’s doctors to come to her room, letting them know that she’s awake and alert. After checking all of her vitals, giving her a very thorough examination, and explaining the extent of her injuries, they let her know that she’ll be in the hospital for a few more days and leave once again.

Soon, all of their friends and family come to visit her, elated that she’s okay. The once spacious room is packed wall-to-wall with people. Flowers, cards, and balloons fill up all the remaining space.

“You gave us quite a scare, Little Blossom,” Maxwell chides. “You don’t get to scare us like that ever again.”

Olivia scoffs. “Oh please, speak for yourself. I knew she’d be fine. Kendall is much tougher than she looks.”

“Aww, Olivia,” Kendall coos. “I knew you loved me.”

“Must you always push things too far?” Olivia asks. She rolls her eyes, Kendall notices the small smile tugging on the corner of her lip.

“Yes.”

“Is there anything we can get for you, Mason?” Drake asks. “Is it warm enough in here? Do you need more blankets? Because I can flag down a nurse and get you more blankets.”

“Nonsense,” Bertrand says. “I’ll go to the store and get some cashmere blankets and silk pajamas for her. If our pregnant Queen is going to be staying in the hospital for a few days, it might as well be in comfort and luxury.”

“You guys spoil me too much. But Bertrand, I will absolutely accept a cashmere blanket.”

“Of course.”

Hana steps up, holding a large box. “We don’t know if you can eat, but just in case you can, I went to your favorite bakery and got you a dozen cronuts.”

Kendall’s mouth waters at the mention of her favorite pastry and the baby kicks excitedly. “Hana, you win.”

“Yay.”

“I can’t eat cronuts yet, but I’ll definitely save them–,” Kendall yawns mid sentence, “for later.”

“While it’s been great to see everyone, and I’m thankful you all came back, I think my wife needs her rest,” Liam says. “It’s been a long 24 hours.”

Regina nods, “We understand. Call us if you need anything, okay?”

“I will.”

Everyone says their goodbyes to Kendall and Liam, showering her with hugs and affectionate hand squeezes before filing out of her suite.

Liam sits down in a leather chair at her bedside and sighs. He’s absolutely exhausted, and Kendall knows it.

“You should get some sleep too.”

He shakes his head stubbornly. “I’m fine. I slept for a few hours earlier.” He just doesn’t want to take his eyes off of her, not even for a moment.

Kendall gently places a palm onto her stomach, careful of the stitches from her surgery. “Your daddy is stubborn.” The baby kicks and Kendall giggles. “They agree with me.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes.” She takes Liam’s hand and presses it against her stomach. “Tell daddy he’s being stubborn, little one.” The baby kicks again. “See? I told you.”

“You two are already ganging up on me?”

“Yup. And you love it.”

He nods slightly. “I love everything you do.”

“Smart answer.” She notices his hand, tightly bandaged up and covered in a brace. She didn’t notice it before, with everyone focusing all of the attention on her. “What happened to your hand?”

Liam almost forgot he bruised his hand the night before, so worried about Kendall he barely registered the pain and discomfort. “It’s nothing. Just...fallout from the accident.”

“Is it broken?”

“No. Just a sprain.”

“Does it hurt?”

“It’s wrapped so tightly, I barely feel a thing. Don’t worry about me, my love, it’ll be fine.”

Kendall wants to fret over Liam a bit more, but she’s knows he won’t let her. So she drops it. “Can you come close to me?”

“As if you even have to ask such a thing.” Liam scoots his chair much closer, and he places his head in Kendall’s lap. He can feel a pair of tiny little feet pushing against him, but he doesn’t mind. Kendall takes a hand and softly runs it along his head, massaging his scalp.

For the first time since yesterday, Liam feels at peace. Everything he needs is with him in this moment.

Now that everything is sort of settling down, the weight of the situation dawns on Liam. Kendall could’ve died, leaving their child without a mother. Or perhaps the baby could have, the baby they wanted for so long. Or worse, both of them could have been taken from him in an instant, over something as trivial as tabloid pictures. 

It’s an overwhelming epiphany, one that threatens to snatch the air straight from his lungs.

“I could’ve lost you,” Liam says quietly, so quietly Kendall barely hears him.

“Hmm?”

“I could’ve lost you yesterday. You could’ve died, and our baby could’ve died, both of you.” Liam’s eyes sting with tears. “And it would’ve been all my fault.”

“Don’t say that.”

“But it’s the truth. You gave up everything to come here, and you’ve dealt with more than your fair share of grief because of it. I was born into this, I accepted this life a long time ago when I stepped up to become the Crown Prince, you didn’t. You didn’t ask for any of this, and yet, you’ve received the brunt of the obstacles. Those vultures came after you because you’re the Queen, you’re my wife, and you’re carrying the heir.”

“They almost took you away from me last night.” The tears are falling freely at this point, but Liam doesn’t care. “I am so sorry. It’s my job to keep you and our baby safe, and I couldn’t protect you yesterday. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for it.”

Kendall cradles Liam head between her hands, forcing him to look at her. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen him so distraught. “Liam, I don’t want you to blame yourself. I certainly don’t blame you. None of this is your fault, the only people responsible are the ones who forced Bastien off of the road.”

“But–”

“No buts. You don’t need to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders all the time, Liam. You’ve done your best, and that’s all I need from you.”

Liam takes a shuddering breath, trying to calm down. Kendall grabs one of his hands and places it on her chest, letting him feel her steady heartbeat. “You feel that? I’m okay, we are okay. You don’t have to worry about losing me.”

Feeling the steady beat of her heart calms him almost instantly. He leans forward and kisses Kendall urgently, careful not to lean over her too much. Kendall kisses him back, tasting the saltiness of her husband’s tears.

“I love you,” Liam says, once he pulls away from the kiss. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

“And I swear to you, nothing like this will ever happen again,” Liam assures. He’ll die before he gets this close to losing her ever again. He’ll kill, even. “And I promise there will be consequences for the people who put you in here.”

~V~

The next morning, Liam decides it’s finally time to do a press conference. Kendall seems to be in good spirits , and it’s clear that the press is not going to leave the front of the hospital without some sort of statement. So, Liam showers and changes into the fresh suit Madeleine brought for him the day before, and with two royal guards in tow, he makes his way out of the hospital.

To say there is a crowd will be an understatement. Liam doesn’t think he’s seen this many reporters and photographers at once ever before in his life. It’s slightly overwhelming, the murmurs, the flash of the cameras, the civilians lingering around hoping to catch a glimpse of the royalty, but he isn’t going to turn around now.

The crowd only buzzes with more excitement upon seeing Liam advance towards them. But silence falls when they notice his usually pleasant demeanor is nonexistent.

Liam inhales deeply and tries to settle his nerves before talking. It’s taking every ounce of willpower he has to not launch into a tirade.

“A few nights ago, my wife, myself, and a few members of the royal council were at a book signing to support a friend, Lord Maxwell Beaumont. When the event was over, we were leaving, but as soon as we stepped outside, we were greeted by a crowd, not much smaller than the one I’m looking at right now. This crowd was intrusive, pushy, and completely lacked boundaries or any sense of decorum.”

“We managed to escape the mob of reporters, shouting at us, shoving us, taking our photos, and we retreated to the safety of our vehicle. That should have been the end of the melee, but unfortunately that was not the case. We were chased through the dark and snowy streets of Lythikos, paparazzi still taking our pictures, dangerously swerving and driving. And I’m sure you all know how this story ends. One of your colleagues, a photographer named Samir ran into our van, my guard Bastien swerved off of the road and ran into the pole. And you would think that the story ends there. Surely. But no. The photographer continued to take our pictures as we laid there, trapped and injured in our wreckage, before he fled the scene in cowardice.”

Liam’s eyes sweep the crowd. Everyone is watching and listening with rapt attention, hanging onto his every word. Good. 

“Most of us faced only minor injuries, able to walk about with a few bumps and bruises. My guard Bastien sustained a dislocated shoulder and sprained ankle, but he’s going to be fine. My wife, Her Majesty, Queen Kendall of Cordonia, Duchess of Valtoria, sustained major injuries, to which I will not share the extent, but know that she and the baby will be okay as well. And while I will never be able to express the true depths of my eternal gratitude towards the amazing staff at this hospital, as well as the first responders in Lythikos, she should have never been put in this situation.”

“While Queen Kendall is expected to recover from her injuries, I want you all to hear me well and grasp the full severity of the situation. You chased and harassed her. You caused the car she was riding in to crash. Take away the titles for a moment and let it sink in that a pregnant woman and her child could have died. The baby that you were all so eager for me to have, that you’re all anxiously awaiting, you all put them in harm’s way and they haven't even had the chance to take their first breath. And for what? Pictures? A couple hundred dollars? A few thousand? Is that the going rate for a human life these days? This is a travesty that I will absolutely not stand for.”

“The royal family and the Cordonian press have always had an amicable relationship in the past, but somewhere along the way, the respect has been lost. My wife and I were harassed on our honeymoon—which took place on a private island, upon our arrival back home to Valtoria, in my wife’s native city of New York, as well as in Texas. Someone even followed us to the hospital, going as far as to impersonate hospital staff in order to get personal details about her pregnancy. We’ve dealt with the press harassing us, asking invasive and inappropriate questions about her pregnancy, which she has dealt with with an undeserved and unprecedented amount of grace and class. I think you’ve all forgotten that you’re dealing with your Queen. These are situations that Kendall should have never been in, but that’s a mistake and oversight on my part, a mistake that will never happen again. I let all of you get too comfortable. I let you become entitled, greedy, and spoiled. I apologize for making such an error, but I assure you that it ends today.”

“Let me make myself perfectly clear in saying that my wife will never be your Princess Diana, may she continue to rest in peace,” Liam continues. He knows that he’s going to cause some level of controversy invoking the late British Princess’s name, but the point has to be made. “Until my dying breath, I will protect Kendall, our child, and any future children we may have.”

“And to do that, boundaries will be put in place. Effective immediately, the press is no longer allowed at Applewood Manor or the Valtoria Estate, save for Apple Blossom festival and the lantern lighting festival,” Liam announces. The crowd gasps at the announcement. “They are private residencies, which we graciously opened up to the public in the past, but for the time being they will be private. I have filed permits to also ensure no drones, planes, jets, or helicopters fly over as well, in case anyone tries to get any bright ideas. For the time being, all news regarding my family will be released via the palace’s website and social media platforms. As for press at the palace, if I or anyone else in the royal family needs to address anything directly to the media, it will be done so right outside of the palace gates. There will be no press conferences near the fountain, in the throne room, or in the gardens. Members of the press will be welcome to attend any official engagements or royal tours we do in the future, but they are to be at least 30 meters away from members of the royal family at all times. If I see or hear of anyone belonging to the press violating any of these perimeters, there will be consequences, including severe fines and possible jail time.”

“As for the consequences to what happened the other night, the reporters who were in Lythikos that night will be charged with inciting a riot.” Gasps and rumblings of protest being to ripple through the crowd. “SILENCE!” Everyone goes quiet, shocked at the outburst from their normally stoic king. “Note that this is a very serious matter. It wasn’t just my safety that was at risk, or my Queen’s, my child’s, or my friends’. When you caused that dangerous scene, you had absolutely no regard for the private  citizens of Lythikos. There were children in attendance, elderly people, people with disabilities, and so on. You exercised absolutely no restraint and showed no care for anyone. So as I was saying before I was interrupted, you will be charged with inciting a riot, and your employers, the magazines, papers, and tabloids that pay you to stalk my wife and spread gossip about her, they will also be facing severe fines as well. And to the man that ran into us, Samir, you have 24 hours to turn yourself in for the hit and run charges. Failure to do so will result in additional charges.”

“This is my first and final warning on this matter, and it is not up for debate or discussion. Thank you for taking the time to listen to me speak, but I think I’ve been out here long enough, and it’s time I get back to my beautiful wife. I hope you all enjoy the rest of your day.” 

And with that, Liam turns on his heel and walks back into the hospital, ignoring the chants and calls of the crowd behind him.