#Duke if the only one who can pull off a buzz cut

[allyendergirl]

YOURE SO REAL FOR THIS

Every time Gotham Knights goes on sale I’m tempted to play, but they I remember that they gave my boys (Tim and Jason) buzz cuts and I don’t think I can stomach it.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Smart Enough

Requested Here!

Pairing: Dominique Luca x fem!reader (Street's cousin/LAPD consultant)

Summary: While staying with your cousin Street, you assist the LAPD in catching a serial killer, but discover you fit the victim profile. SWAT agrees to protect you, but Street finds out that you and Luca are closer than you seemed.

Warnings: mostly fluff, r is threatened by a serial killer, the request mentioned High Potential and I love that show so I referenced it a lot

Word Count: 2.3k+ words

“The average rent in Los Angeles is $2,153. The average rent in the US overall is somewhere between $1,326 and $1,616. Even if you consider the higher prices, LA’s rent is 38% higher than the national average. On my analyst salary, I can’t afford rent and food, so you see my dilemma, right?” you ask before unwrapping a lollipop.

“As much as I enjoyed that presentation, I already agreed to let you stay here,” your cousin, Jim Street, replies.

“I thought you were a consultant,” Luca points out.

You twirl the lollipop in your mouth before pointing it toward Luca. “A consultant is a person who professionally provides expert advice, and an analyst conducts analysis. I technically do both.”

“And you do it well,” Luca replies, winking at you from behind Street.

“Thanks for letting me stay here, Luca,” you tell him. “I promise I’m much better behaved than Street.”

“Duke is better behaved than your cousin.”

Street scoffs loudly in argument, and you nod to agree with Luca. You’ve only been here for a night, but you can already tell you will have a good relationship with him.

“Remember that I gave up my bed for you,” Street says. “Sleeping on the couch where you should be.”

Your phone buzzes, and you read the message before standing. “Thank you, dear, sweet cousin,” you tell Street, hugging his shoulders from behind. “You’re the best. I’ll see you later. Bye, Luca!”

“Bye!” Luca calls.

Street turns toward Luca, his eyes narrowed. “Don’t. No Luca charm on my cousin, okay? She’s off limits.”

Luca salutes Street, but he can already tell you’re special. Even without his so-called Luca charm.

“Tell me what you see,” LAPD Lieutenant Melon requests.

“Hey!” Daphne Forrester says, backpedaling to look into the room. “Did you find a place to stay?”

“Do you mind?” Melon snaps as you answer, “I did! Thanks for suggesting that apartment, but I’m actually staying with my cousin until I can find something more permanent.”

“Permanent like murder?” Melon redirects. “Maybe the one you’re supposed to be consulting on?”

“Sorry,” Daphne says. “We’ll talk later,” she whispers to you.

You nod, then look at the case board before you. Your eyes bounce around the board. “They were all killed within a mile of college campuses, right?”

“Yeah,” Melon says before reading, “Two by UCLA, one by LBCC, and three from CIT.”

“Majors?”

“I don’t know. That’s not exactly something they find on autopsies.”

You stand and round the table to point at a picture. “Leslie Carver. This picture is from the crime scene, look!”

“At what?” Melon groans. “Just tell me what you see, that’s the whole point of having you here.”

“There's ink stains and minor paper cuts on her finger tips, plus a callous from holding a pen. These women were killed because they’re academics, because they’re smart. In fact… victim three, the one by LBCC, she wasn’t even in college.”

“And?”

“He’s not done.” You trace the pins on the map and decide, “There’s a pattern, and it’s nowhere near complete.”

“What’s the pattern? Where’s he going next?”

“I… I don’t know yet.”

You walk into SWAT HQ between two officers. They lead you directly into the situation room and pull up the case file on a large monitor screen. You’re instructed to sit on a stool and shift side-to-side as you wait.

“I’m Commander Hicks, this is Sergeant Harrelson, and 20-David squad-“

Street says your name and demands, “What are you doing here?”

“My job,” you answer, swinging your legs.

“She found a pattern in the Collegiate Killers’ victims,” Hicks says. “How do you two know each other?”

“I live with Luca,” you answer, smiling at him as he fights not to laugh.

“She’s my cousin,” Street corrects. “Who didn’t answer my question about why she’s here.”

“She fits the killer’s type,” Melon says.

Street steps toward you and raises his voice to ask, “What?”

“He’s killing smart people,” you explain with a shrug. “So, you’re safe.”

“Wait,” one of the other officers requests as he pulls Street back. “Can we start at the beginning? Without your commentary, Street?”

Melon waves toward you, and you slide from the stool to point to the map. “Six victims, all murdered within a few miles of college campuses. In order, the scenes were CIT, UCLA, CIT, LBCC, UCLA. On a map, that forms a composite triangle – two smaller triangles creating a larger one by sharing a side. The victims all had IQs over 130, which on the IQ scale means they were moderately gifted. But he’s forming these triangles by moving up in IQ. Victim one, IQ of 132, by victim 6, 139. He’s killing intelligent women, though the triangles are still a head scratcher.”

“What’s your IQ?” Hondo asks.

“145,” you answer softly.

“Highly gifted,” one of the detectives adds.

“If he’s only killing women around colleges, why are you considering yourself a target?” Street asks.

You purse your lips, and Melon explains, “We want to set a trap.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Street,” you begin.

“No,” he exclaims, turning toward you. “We’re not waltzing you into a college to catch some crazed killer. It’s out of the question.”

“It’s not your decision, Street.”

Street clenches his hand into a fist and takes a deep breath.

“That’s why they’re here, Street,” Hicks adds. “She’s not going in alone.”

“And how exactly do you expect to lead him to you specifically?” Street asks. “You’re not going to be the only smart woman on USC's campus.”

“No,” you agree. “But I will be the expert giving an unscripted seminar on medieval jousting and wearing a short skirt.”

Street opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He shakes his head and returns to Luca’s side but crosses his arms and glares at you.

“I trust you to keep me safe,” you say. “If that helps at all.”

“A bit,” he grumbles.

“We’ve got two days,” Hicks announces. “The seminar is at one p.m., but we can’t have obvious police presence on campus. So, let’s talk logistics.”

“Street,” you sigh, stopping at the end of the couch. “You know I wouldn’t just do this if I thought it wasn’t necessary.”

Street huffs and turns his face into a pillow. You drop your jacket onto his legs and sit, smiling as he pulls his feet out from under you at the last second.

“What can I say to make this better?” you ask.

“That you’re not going to do it.”

“I can’t say that Street. You know I didn’t get into this job on purpose, but I’m good at it, and I want to help make sure other women aren’t senselessly murdered just because they’re smart.”

“For someone so smart, you’re pretty stupid sometimes,” Street says against the couch cushion.

“I guess you’re wearing off on me.”

You yell dramatically as Street kicks your side, then laugh and fall against him. Luca clears his throat from the doorway, and when you look up, he tips his head toward the kitchen.

“Want something to drink, Street?” you ask.

“Something strong.”

“One water with mint coming up.”

Street continues grumbling as you leave his side and follow Luca. He smiles, asks what you’d like for dinner, and then begins gathering the ingredients.

“I’m nervous,” you admit softly.

Luca takes your hand and promises, “I’ll be with you the whole time. We all will.”

You lean against Luca’s chest, sighing as he holds you close. When Street stands from the couch, you separate quickly. Moving in with them was supposed to be temporary, just a place to sleep, but each moment you spend with Luca makes you more hesitant to leave.

“Are you ready?” Street asks.

You take a deep breath and nod. “Ask me a question about jousting.”

“Why did they use lances?”

“Actually, the lance was only one of three acceptable weapons for jousting,” you answer immediately. “The others were axes and swords. Later in jousting, the sword became more widely used because the cross guard resembled a crucifix.”

“You’ve got this,” Street assures, squeezing your hand once. “And you’re wearing my jacket, so you have to come back.”

“Of course.”

As you walk into the college auditorium, you smile at a few passing students and faculty, then find your place at the podium. Luca smiles from the back row, and several younger officers are scattered throughout the room. A professor introduces you, and the questions begin nearly immediately. Luca watches everyone who speaks but makes sure to catch your gaze every few minutes to give you a reassuring nod.

When your hour and a half is up, you thank everyone, then exit into what appears to be an empty hallway.

“Excuse me,” a man who looks to be in his thirties calls as he steps out of another door. “I had something I wanted to share if that’s okay.”

“Sure,” you agree, pressing your upper arms against your ribs beneath Street’s jacket.

“Some jousters bolted their armor to their saddles.” He steps toward you, and you hold your ground despite the intense urge to keep room between you. “I’ve been known to find more creative ways to keep women where I want them.”

“Do you know who I am?” you ask, tilting your head to the right.

He says your name, IQ, and educational history, and asks, “That sound about right?”

“You’ve done your research. But you forgot LAPD consultant.”

His hand closes around your throat, his fingers digging into the tense muscles along the side of your neck before he pulls you against him. He turns you so your back is against his chest and pulls a knife from his belt to push against your side.

“LAPD SWAT!” Hondo yells from behind you.

The man spins quickly, his arm tightening around your throat. Street tenses behind Hondo, and your heart rate calms when you see almost all of 20 Squad in uniform with guns aimed at the killer against your back. Luca is absent, you notice.

“Drop the weapon!” Street commands.

You gasp as the arm against you tightens, but it suddenly drops. The knife hits the tile floor with a sharp noise, and the man steps back from you as his hands raise.

“Smarter than he looks,” Luca taunts.

You turn on your heel and release a sigh when you see Luca behind the serial killer.

“Not that smart,” you add softly.

“Interlace your fingers behind your head,” Luca instructs.

Street rushes to your side, pulls you into a tight hug, and whispers quickly against your shoulder.

“I didn’t hear any of that,” you admit, patting his back.

“I was telling you I’m glad he didn’t cut my jacket,” Street lies.

“Can I go home now?”

“Paperwork first,” Lieutenant Melon says as he enters the hall. “Welcome to police life.”

“I’ll have dinner ready when you get home,” Luca promises.

“I knew moving in with him was a good idea.”

When you return to Luca and Street’s house, lean against the door, close your eyes, and take a deep breath. Street reluctantly agreed to go out with his friends and blow off some steam after a stressful week, so you expect you’ll have the house to yourself.

“Need anything?” Luca asks.

You shake your head without opening your eyes, and Luca carefully takes your bag from your hand.

“Thanks,” you murmur. “For everything.”

“Anytime.”

“So,” you begin.

After several seconds, Luca asks, “So?”

“You know how Street’s super protective of me?” Luca hums, and you tip your head down and open your eyes. “He hates when I go on dates, of course, but… I really like you, Luca.”

“You’re smart enough to know how I feel about you.”

“Street wouldn’t like it if we did anything.”

“Anything like what? Went on a date?”

You nod, and Luca shrugs.

“What should we do about that?”

You push off the door and step toward Luca, raising your arms to wrap around his shoulders. Luca’s arms circle your waist and pull you closer. With your forehead against his, you decide you're okay with whatever dramatic response Street has.

“I recommend we tell him in a crowded room, so he doesn’t hit me,” Luca whispers.

You tilt your jaw toward his and reply, “Or we stop thinking about him for now,” before you brush your lips against Luca’s.

“It’s believed that the LAPD actually coined the acronym SWAT,” you say.

“You’re back,” Street says as he enters the room, looking around for the detectives you accompanied last time. “Friendly visit?”

You nod and continue your story. “After the Texas Tower Incident, LAPD formed their SWAT team. The concept originated in the late 1960s after sniping incidents. The unit was originally designated the ‘D’ Platoon.”

“I can’t believe you’re related to Street,” Chris muses.

“Me neither,” Tan agrees. “You’re so smart, and he’s so… Street.”

“Hey, I’m smart!” Street interjects.

“Smart enough, maybe,” Hondo adds.

“Not very observant though,” Luca says.

You smile and take Luca’s hand, and Street’s eyes bounce rapidly between your shared hands, your face, and then Luca’s.

“You’re going to get dizzy,” you warn.

“Luca, she’s my cousin!” he exclaims.

“Yeah,” Luca says.

“You can’t date my cousin.”

“Can, and am.”

“I’ll kick you out.”

“It’s my house,” Luca argues, and you ask, “Wait, me?”

Street rubs his hand over his mouth, then promises, “I’ll find a way to fix this.”

“Street,” you say, stepping toward him and using your best loving cousin smile. “I really like him. He makes me happy.”

Street stares at you for a moment, then turns away. “Deacon, tell me you get it.”

“I get how she and Luca look at each other.”

Street tips his head back and groans. “Hurt her, Luca, and-“

“Please, I’d hurt him first,” you interrupt. Luca’s jaw drops, and you promise, “I know you won’t, but it’s the only way to shut him up.”

[duketibbitswaifu]

🌸 Selfshiptober 🌸

Day 3 : Embrace + Blood

🌸 Me and Dukey were on a date at a cute 'lil diner last night!! They had some yummy burgers, I had mine with chopped onions. Dukey only got a plain burger, not wanting to spend too much, so I let him have some of my fries. I don't know what was more appetizing: the food, or the greying man right in front of me. 🌸

🌸 Our sandwiches were followed up by a pair of bloody mary cocktails, a favorite of mine. Duke got it to be a romantic, saying it reminded him of how much he loves with me. He's such a flirt. 🌸

🌸 After about an hour or so, we paid our bill and started walking to our ride. We were both a little buzzed from the bar so we were both stumbling a little bit, holding onto each other for support. His broad shoulders and his strong grip made me feel so safe. 🌸

🌸 "Rosemary, you-you are the most prettiest damn lady. I ought to take you home 'an ravage you, woman." He spoke, slurring his words in his drunken haze. 🌸

🌸 He laughed first at that, followed by my own giggling. He was always funny, but always moreso after some hooch. I notice his face becoming redder, a light blush filling his cheeks. He's such a cute patootie. 🌸

🌸 "Dukey, you better watch who you're talkin' to." I snapped back playfully. "'sides, last time I checked, you wanted to mess around a little differently" The stoat feels a sharp smack on his ass, jumping with a hoot and a hollar. 🌸

🌸 That's when I started feeling a bit dizzy. Not drunk dizzy, but that one dizziness I've grown accustomed to. My head started feeling lighter too :((. By now, Dukey would have noticed I was about to faint, but with the alcohol in our systems, he didn't realize 'till after I fell. 🌸

🌸 I didn't know what happened after, but I woke up this morning in Dukey's bed. At first my head was spinning, trying to adjust myself with my surroundings. I had a huge hangover. I felt around my body, feeling the cotton sheets around my body, a hole or two spotting the bedding. 🌸

🌸 I could recognize it by just the feeling. It was the kinda of rough and fuzzy you get from worn down fabric, and his room always smelled vaguely like a dusty thrift store. I could taste a hint of iron on my tongue, something so familiar but unsure. 🌸

🌸 I checked my phone, looking through my notifications, see if he left me any messages to wake up too. 7:32. Nothing of course; he never really cared for text too much. I was about to get up when I heard the door know turn, and the door bust open with a familiar sight. 🌸

🌸 The stoat walks in carrying a breakfast tray, saddled with a pair of plates, adorned with some flowers from his back garden. There was some eggs and sausage, the steam still emanating from the dish. 🌸

🌸 That's when he spots me. "Rosemary!" He exclaimed, running to my bedside, almost dropping the food in the process. "I-, you're okay!" Dukey hurriedly sets the tray on the bedside, before running to hold me in his arms, a hand rubbing my back. He lays his head on my shoulder as I can hear soft whimpers. 🌸

🌸 As he holds me close, I can feel that taste of iron waft up to my nose, along with Duke's familiar cheap cigarette and sweat smell. "Yes, I'm okay! What happened?" 🌸

🌸 The grey stoat pulls away, still holding me by the shoulders as if afraid to let me go. As he does so, I notice he's completely shirtless. For him, it's a rare sight, as he's almost always wearing his wifebeater. There's a couple of red stains on his arms, too. 🌸

🌸 "Ya busted your face open last night. Had to bring you back my m'self and nurse ya back to health." Duke looks me straight-on after saying this, his expresssion turnin' from a smile to a look of guilt. "I should have caught you. My dumbass didn't catch you and you had to p-" 🌸

🌸 I cut him off, placing a finger to his sullen lips. "Dukey, I love you, so much. Thank you, baby." I comfort him, his unnaturally shaken stature returning to a more cooled state. "I love you too, darlin'." 🌸

🌸He squeezes me into another hug, this time out of pure love as opposed to worry. The embrace lingers for a while longer, maybe a couple of minutes. Who knows? I don't any of us we're keeping track. Simply enjoying the feeling of each other was enough to make all the blood and worry melt away into nothingness.

[dceasesd]

stop making the batboys bald please reblog to sign the petition

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

XOXO ~ H.D. (Part Two: Distract)

A/n: I need to stop doing this and just make decisions RIP (This prompt list)

Request: “38 and 17 for Hamish Duke” by anon

Word Count: 2800+

MASTERLIST

~ A Kiss To Distract ~

You know you think you'd meet one demon that fed off of fear and that would tick the boxes for any need you might have to meet a fear eating demon. You could just continue about your life, just meeting the one, and that would be fine. That would be enough. You could stop at the one.

Not for Jack and his friends.

After the one demon who came in and pulled fear out of ears and nearly ended the world, another one came waltzing in - just as dangerous in a completely opposite way. Rather than ridding you of your fear, Curza cultivated it, bred it. This way the fear didn't run out. He fed on it a lot more slowly and had to eat more often - rather than just feeding once and then moving on. This way people were nearly crippled by their fear instead of completely free of it.

Honestly they weren't sure which one had been worse.

All they knew now was that for some reason, Y/n was far FAR more resistant to the effects than anyone else. He had been fed on more than any of them and still remained on his feet. He had turned into that terrified, jumpy ten year old Cassie had talked so much about once in jest, but he still had ideas and plans and kept going. Most of the Order had been cut out of commission, and had taken Alyssa with them. Now it was the wolves, Vera and Nicole, and it was looking like they were going to lose even more people soon.

Nicole was currently on the floor, eyes vacant and hands shaking slightly. Lilith was with her, trying to knock her out of it, but wasn't making much progress, as Lilith was having a hard time too. Jack sat close to them, eyes closed and head leaning against a wall. Randall crouched on the other side of him, holding his hand while listening to Vera and Y/n go back and forth as they tried to come up with a plan. Even Hamish leaned against a wall, one foot propped up and arms crossed over his chest. He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing as the two talked. Listening to his boyfriend's voice was like an anchor, grounding him. It helped him focus to hear Y/n buzz around and go back and forth with Vera. He couldn't think of any ideas himself, like he usually could, but he could listen and that was enough.

For now.

Nicole began hyperventilating and Vera sighed. "Take her back to the Den with Alyssa, will you Lilith?" She had been beaten down so much that her voice was gentle, even with Lilith of all people. They were all going through too much to be snapped at right now, and Vera couldn't muster her usual attitude. Lilith just nodded, trying to hide the relief on her face as she dipped out with Nicole leaning against her.

Vera looked at Y/n, who ran his hands over his face as he sighed. "Okay, okay. We need to stop arguing and planning and need to start doing something. We're running out of people. Fast."

Vera crossed her arms. "Do you have any ideas?"

Y/n pursed his lips. He paused, and then his eyes drifted over to Jack. "Didn't Jack say the demon was weak to hell fire?"

"All demons are," Vera confirmed, nodding. "But it's impossible to get, that's why-"

"No I know. I know. But what if he THOUGHT we had Hell fire and we could distract him? Just long enough..."

"To get close?" Vera offered.

Y/n nodded. "Do you think you could enchant a blade with something, to stab him? Or maybe we could stick something on him that would sap his energy? I mean he feeds on fear, what if fueling him with hope or something crippled him in some way? Just slowed him down a little, so that over time it..." he sighed, his chest shuddering. "That'll take too long."

"Not necessarily," Vera began. "If we could close him in a small area, lock him up, and surround him with people feeling good things - snuff out the source of fear. Maybe on top of that hope pin idea..." her mind was racing. "You're right, he does feed on fear but only when he can build and grow it. If we could somehow combat it-"

"He would starve?" Y/n offered.

"It might even act like a poison," Vera agreed.

So the plan was set. All the magic users teamed up to create the spell that would be placed on the demon. Hamish and Randall came together to build an area and create a devil's trap. That left Y/n and Lilith to come up with ideas on how to focus and distract people from their bad feelings to create an environment that the demon won't be able to feed off of. The hope of an actual solution being so close had several of those that had been knocked out working along with everyone else, no matter how bad they'd been doing before.

When they were all done they stood is a circle, outside of the demon trap. The only exception was Y/n, who stood in a bubble written into the demon trap. It would keep the demon locked in and unable to attack Y/n. The contract, the conversation - whatever happened it would be between the demon and Y/n. He would have to answer Y/n’s questions or be distracted enough that Y/n could get close and place the button so they could behind sapping the demon’s strength.

Now that they were ready to go, they summoned the demon. There were only a few seconds of silence before the demon appeared on the middle of the circle. It’s eyes found Y/n as if it had appeared here on purpose, ready to get into an argument with Y/n specifically. They faced each other. No one moved. No one even breathed.

Y/n broke the every silence. “Curza.”

The demon smiled. A twisted, disgusting expression on his face. “Y/n.”

An impressed quirk of the eyebrow and Y/n tilted his head. “You know my name.”

“You summoned me, and out yourself directly into my spotlight in doing so. You’re either very stupid or trying to make me focus on you. Either way, you’ve made yourself the most vulnerable living thing to me I have access to. I know your name. I know everything about you.”

Y/n swallowed, forcing the fear he felt down. Everyone in the room had frozen in terror - Hamish most, as it was his boyfriend who was currently under threat. “I have questions for you.” He struggled for only a split second before taking a solid step forward. His eyes locked with Curza’s, whose expression flashed with intrigue. Not many could move under his influence, let alone talk so civilly or freely move around.

“And what question would that be?” Curza asked, his tone nearing on purring as he stepped closer to Y/n as well.

Taking two more steps, Y/n felt the air get thicker and his heart beat pick up significantly. He held onto the same thing he always did when facing these feelings. He could give into fear and let his friends die, or he could push past it and focus on the fear that ruled him the most. The one that had driven him for twelve years. The fear that had kept him alive despite everything he had been through. Everything that had been expected of him when he had bonded with Midnight.

The fear of losing everyone he cared about, just like he had lost his sister. Like he had lost Cassie and all the wolves that had once been his family. He had more family now, and they meant more to him than anyone ever had before. He wouldn’t let them die because he couldn’t keep his feet under him.

Not again.

As if sensing Y/n’s sturdiness, the demon’s eyebrows actually rose. “Not many people want to get closer to me, let alone can.” He took two steps toward Y/n and the werewolves shivered, blinking a few times to orient himself again. “See every time we get closer my influence becomes greater. Especially when I am focused on you like this, the amount of fear I am currently pumping you with has only been dealt with so beautifully for two reasons.

“One, you have a lot of hope.” Curza huffed in amusement, as if that was a silly idea. “That usually comes from years of dealing with hopeless, terrifying, truly horrible things. Often powered by spite more than anything. Not a wishing for a better future, but a demanding of one. Because you deserve it. Because I do not deserve to see you keep suffering, so you will get better.” He shrugged.

“The other reason?” Y/n asked, taking another step. It was slow, painful. Obviously a struggle. But he did it.

The demon smirked, taking two steps again. Y/n didn’t move but his hands moved behind his back. Everyone behind hun could see that his hands were shaking. “The other reason is that they fear something greater than what I can use to cripple them. Those who fear something greater than death, greater than failure. If you can find a greater fear, it can power you to keep going even as what I remind you of tries to rip you to a stop.” They were nearly chest to chest now. After seeing Y/n unable to move Curza had kept walking until they had gotten here. Curza was shorter than Y/n, just enough that Y/n had to look down at him. There was no power or confidence in it though. Y/n had only ever been this afraid of someone smaller than him when he interacted with a very angry Lilith.

“We all have our fears,” Y/n dismissed, shrugging.

Curza’s grin was like a shark’s. Pointy teeth - Y/n didn’t have to stretch to imagine them covered with blood. With his blood. With his friends’ blood. With the blood of the entire world. For someone else it might have been enough to knock him out of the game, but Vera had been clear. If Y/n failed, everyone in this room would be in danger of Curza. Y/n wouldn’t allow that.

Everyone was counting on him.

“And what?” Curza asked very quietly. While he was distracted Y/n slipped the little button on the back of Curza’s shoulder. They had been so locked in the moment that Y/n barely noticed - there was no way the demon was, not when he was trying to win his food over. “What is your fear?”

Y/n was fighting too much. Just standing was enough to exhaust him. He couldn’t fight this one, so he was just honest. “I have a future. I have a boyfriend who means the world to me, and we have had to fight one thing after another to get over our own stupidity and make it official. I’m not losing him now. I finally have a family again. I have friends. I have a woman who’s become like the older sister I should have had. I had one, taken from me so long ago, and she had someone to take care of once too. But we both lost those people and now... we see a little both of them in each other.” Y/n’s jaw locked. “You’re not taking them from me. You’re not taking me from them. And you’re not taking our world, our future. Not because we deserve better, but because we have come too far to fail now. I don’t care what we deserve. I don’t care about karma or any of that bullshit. I just want to see them happy and successful. That’s it.”

Curza smiled, and it was smaller. Tamer. “You have a plan.”

“I always have a plan.” Y/n’s voice had been reduced to a whisper, but it didn’t matter. He twisted his foot, digging his heel into the ground. It was the signal - the button was planted.

Curza’s smile wiped off of his face as everyone in the room reached out to each other. Thought as hard as possible with as much hope and love and spite as possible. Anything that combatted fear. Anything that pulled them further, kept them going. Whatever it was that had brought them here despite everything they’d been through. We’re going through. Would go through even later.

It was over soon. It was an ugly ordeal, with lots of screaming from the demon as very quickly he melted into a bubbling pile of mulch. But when he was gone, the tension lifted from the room and finally Y/n broke.

It was over.

He could finally give up.

Propped up only on his elbows and knees and hands wrapped in his hair, Y/n screamed. He screamed so loud and so high that it became a roar. A roar that broke very quickly into a sob. The only thing that was a saving Grace was that he didn’t transform. Midnight had given up too, so wrapped up in his head and feelings and thoughts that he couldn’t take control just as much as Y/n couldn’t. They were too close, Y/n’s fear was too personal at this point. They were equally incapacitated.

Everyone watched Y/n with stunned regret. They had been able to feel what he felt in that moment. Even Vera Stone herself had been brought to her knees. As if the demon had been projecting Y/n’s thoughts to them all individually, they had felt it and they had watched in amazement as Y/n kept on moving anyway. Vera, used to sorrow and loss and misery rather than terror and anxiety and adrenaline, had been just as useless against the assault.

Hamish got to Y/n first. He kept trying to soothe Y/n but the boy began shaking in Hamish’s arms. There was no getting to him, he was just melting down.

“Panic attack,” Alyssa whispered very quietly, trying to tell Hamish what was going on. “Severe. Never seen one this bad.”

“More like a trauma response,” Gabby added even more quietly. Her eyes were reflective of a deep, dark hole that stretched too far to see the bottom. Haunting. Hollow.

Hamish wracked his brain for a single thing he could do to help Y/n as the boy’s knuckles turned white and he began to pull on his hair. Hamish’s heart began to fill with a fear that wasn’t induced by any demon. Y/n could really hurt himself like this.

He panicked.

All thoughts left his brain.

Hamish grabbed Y/n’s face and kissed him.

For a second Y/n pushed away, almost appalled at Hamish’s actions. But already he had quieted and his vision had come into focus. His brain was still clogged and his heart was in is throat, choking him, but he was... better. Hamish’s lips were so warm and soft. His hands were familiar and gentle. His shoulders were broad and strong. No one could really hurt Y/n, not while Hamish was around. He might struggle and things might hit him where it hurt every once in a while, but with Hamish...

With Hamish, Y/n was safe.

Y/n pulled him back into a kiss. Hamish didn’t hesitate to return it and they held each other. Hamish filled the moment with as much passion as he could, for once drowning out fear not with spite or hope for a goodness one day, or even more fear, but love. Hamish poured all of himself into the moment, holding Y/n tightly securely. Pushing away all the darkness and the lonely nights and the anxieties of the future. Pushing away anything other than Hamish and Y/n, in this moment, with all their friends and family. They had won. Y/n was safe. They were all safe, because of Y/n. It was okay.

It was enough.

Y/n melted into Hamish embrace, eventually leaning away to press his face into Hamish’s chest. Everyone slowly moved closer as Hamish whispered, “Breathe with me.” And they did. They ALL did. Even Vera and Lilith and Gabby made their moves closer, nestling together as a complete group, and they breathed. Slowly, in through the nose and out through the mouth. Together they not only helped Y/n get rid of the last effects of his own fear but also banished their own.

When they stopped, it was leaning against each other and holding hands and listening to each other and grounding themselves with the people around them.

Nothing could stop them. Not while they had each other.

Y/n and Hamish were together and that could be enough. They could defeat anything. For now, in this second, they could just be together. They could just be okay. That’s all they needed to focus on right now.

[draconic-ichor]

In the Steel Steeds Heart

Chapter 20: Final: Till the Bitter End

Warnings: strong language, sexual themes, blood/gore, body horror, angst, violence, major character death, trauma

Summary: Juniper is delivered back to Heisenberg…

Feedback appreciated. 18+

This is the end my lovelies…this end can fit into cannon, without plot holes for the game. Stay tuned for the family Au later in the week. Will start a whole new (happier) fic, picking up at the end of chapter 19

The hours bled into days, then the days bled into weeks. Heisenberg thrust himself into his work, trying and failing to keep his mind off of what happened.

He couldn’t sleep in the bed anymore, and slowly he even stopped entering the apartment outside the occasional shower or meal.

He carried her compass in his pocket, finding his thumb worried over its surface more times than he’d like to admit.

Feelings of anger and sadness plagued him constantly, filling even his sleep with nightmares. He replayed the day she was taken over and over in his mind, loathing every stupid decision he’d made. The radio and alcohol did little to drown out these thoughts.

Until one day the cameras alerted him to someone at the gates. Heisenberg pushed away from his desk, flipping a switch to see who had tripped his alarm.

It was the Duke’s cart. Heisenberg groaned, his order wasn’t due for another week out. He pressed a button to buzz him in. Walking towards the elevator to meet him.

By the time he was on the surface Duke had pulled his cart up much closer than usual, damn near at the front doors.

“Didn’t expect my shipment so fucking soon.” Heisenberg pointed out.

The Duke’s voice was less jovial than normal as he spoke, “My apologies, Lord Heisenberg, but I bring a different delivery to you today.”

Heisenberg’s brows knitted together in confusion.

“It’s Lady Heisenberg…but I must warn you she is most unwell.” His smile fell, “I found her on the steps of the stone church, and thought her place was much more suited here.”

It took his words a moment to register, Heisenberg’s eyes scanned over the merchant, his lips a thin line.

A mixture of relief, worry, and anger swirled around his head. He swallowed, his throat dry, “Can I see her?”

“Lord Heisenberg…she’s just hanging on.” The Duke warned.

“Let me see her.” Heisenberg’s voice rose, desperation tinged his tone.

The Duke nodded, the small door at the side of the cart slowly swung open. Heisenberg quickly came to the opening, peering inside.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, the cart’s interior a menagerie of all matters of goods. In the center of it all, upon an owl rug, was a mass covered by a blanket.

Heisenberg crawled into the cart, a shaking hand reached out to pull the covering away.

There was Juniper, curled in on herself along the cart’s floor. Her skin was deathly pale, her side hardly rising with breath. Heisenberg tentatively touched her, skin cold under his fingers. He shuttered, dismay ripping through him.

The sound roused her.

Juniper blinked her eyes against the pale sunlight filtering in. Her eyes were dull, all the spark they once held, gone.

“Karl?” She asked, voice almost cracking.

“It’s me.” He came closer, cupping her face.

He saw a smile try to grace her lips, as her eyes closed weakly into his embrace, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Doll.” His eyes flicked down her body. She was thin, her skin covered in blotches of pooled blood below the surface. But the thing that almost turned his stomach was the deep incision from navel to pelvis. It was red and weeping, angry tendrils snaking through her skin from it.

“Fuck.” He cursed, “What did she do to you?”

Juniper winced, a weak hand delicately touching the stitching, “S-She said I was a failure…”

Heisenberg’s eyes stung and he gathered her up, careful to wrap her in the blanket to Shield her from the cold the best he could.

He could be angry later, he had to get Juniper safe first.

“I’m going to take you home, and fix you right up, ok Doll?” He tried to soothe, his voice wavering.

Heisenberg’s stomach clenched, seeing the redness of her abdomen slowly turning an ash grey.

She’ll be fine…she’ll be fine…she’ll be fine…

The words echoed in his head as he exited the cart. He gave a brief thanks to the Duke before retreating back into the factory.

He went straight to the apartment, pausing to ponder what to do next.

Hope waned as he felt her weaken in his grasp. He went to the bed, placing her down gently and making sure she had enough blankets.

“Thank…you.” Juniper gave a sigh, eyes closing. Heisenberg gulped, crawling into the bed beside her. He lay on his side, silently looking her over.

His heartbeat hammered in his chest, fear and worry spinning around his head.

He wanted to do something, anything, to help her. To make the pain go away. He wanted to see her bright and happy again, like a flower. His flower, his buttercup.

Juniper looked up at him the best she could, swallowing as she tried to find her voice. Her skin was slowly taking on an ashy hue, small cracks forming along her arms.

Heisenberg felt his chest clench in iron knots, touching her cheek.

“I’m sorry.” She rasped, her once bright eyes now milky, “I won’t be able…to see the world with you.”

“Don’t say that.” He choked, “Don’t fucking say that.”

Juniper’s breaths were shallow, her eyes unseeing.

“We’ll get out of here.” He almost pleaded.

He gently pulled her head closer until their forehead touched. Juniper closed her eyes into the contact. He could feel her life slipping away ever so slowly under his fingers.

She felt so frail, every breath ragged though her rib cage.

Heisenberg held her close, trying to choke back tears.

“I love you.” He whispered, words broken and wavering. Juniper’s delicate fingers covered his own. Her skin was cold as she smiled the best she could.

“I love you too.” She cooed, her voice sweet and like honey on his ears. He could feel her grasp wavering as he clenched his eyes shut.

He didn’t know how long he laid there. How long he held her, trying to memorize every detail of her form: her smell, her hair, every freckle on her sweet face.

Eventually, in the wake of exhaustion, sleep overtook him. It was fitful and quick. But as he blinked his eyes open all his fears came crashing into him like a speeding car.

The space in the bed beside him was covered in sparkling, iridescent crystal, and crumbling ash.

He sat up, eyes almost unseeing.

He could make out the outline of Juniper’s form, from her jaw to the sway or her hips, forever encased in beautiful stone. The place where her abdomen once was now was hollow with intricate swirling patterns.

He reached out a trembling hand, his fingertips touching the smooth surface of the crystal. The world seemed to slow, a distance ringing filling his ears.

A humming filled the room, all metal rose and began to swirl. It all picked up speed, becoming a cyclone. The metal desks and chairs buckled in on themselves, the walls shuttering.

He balled his hands into fists, bringing them up to cover his face.

A horrid sound joined the choir of destruction. Only when his throat ached did he realize it was his own voice, crying out the grief that ate his core.

The bed shook, the frame bending.

A sound met his ears, almost lost in the havoc. The cracking of stone, hollow like glass.

Everything stopped, metal falling to the floor as he looked forward. The bed frame had buckled enough to start to crack the crystal it held, stopping short only when the humming died.

He felt numb as he stood from the bed. Shattered glass and metal scattering the floor.

Days bled into weeks. He’s not sure how long he left the crystal untouched in the ruined bed. He rarely slept and even more rarely ate. Many family meetings were missed, calls going unanswered. Eventually he wrapped the crystal that was once Juniper in her coat; placing it somewhere safe, deep in the factory.

His grief and loss turned his hunger for freedom into an all consuming desire. His disdain for Mother Miranda forged into a dagger of loathing, cutting ribbons into his soul daily.

Distractions were no longer permitted. Every waking moment was dedicated to his obsession for revenge.

~Epilogue:

Heisenberg sat before the small tv monitor, smoke creating a haze around him. He watched the man on the other end of the screen with interest, a stranger in their village. A stranger with promise.

He bite the cigar between his teeth, pondering the opportunity presenting itself. His army was big, and time was running short. With this stranger’s help, freedom was within his grasp.

He sat back in his chair, reaching into his coat pocket. He pulled a small, ornate compass free. He turned it over on his gloved hand, it’s surface scratched and worn with time. His thumb brushed over the etching across the back, a word branded not only onto its metal but also on his mind.

His eyes narrowed, watching the screen. The man was breaching the stronghold, holding his own against the Lycans like no other before had.

He felt the word over again.

“We’ll see the world together, buttercup.” His tone was thick, “I promise.”

~Thank you~

[mystical-flute]

We Were Both Young When I First Saw You (SF Week Day 1)

Partners In Crime or Enchanted Forest AU

AO3 || FFN

“Papa, are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine, Baelfire. We’ve only got a bit further to go.”

Baelfire couldn’t help but frown at the castle looming in the distance. He wasn’t entirely sure what his Papa’s version of “bit” was, but he knew they wouldn’t even reach the castle by sundown if they tried.

They had been journeying for weeks now, having only barely scraped enough money together for food or the occasional night at the inns on the route from Senaela. There was to be a spinning contest in Misthaven, hosted by the Queen and Prince Regent. The prize money would be everything to them - and Baelfire knew his Papa was the best spinner in all the realms.

But that didn’t mean Baelfire wasn’t tired of traveling.

Still, he pushed on. For his Papa. For a better life.

Despite the burning in his lungs and his legs, he pushed on, the cart moving slowly through the forest.

They stumbled upon a small village, and were settling down to eat the rations they’d found when the sound of horses cut through the serenity.

The lead horse had a banner with a crest of the royal family on it, and Baelfire sighed in relief. It wasn’t their Duke’s men who came to take him away to fight against the ogres. They had escaped. They were safe.

“Clear the area! Make way for Princess Emma and Prince Neal!” the man on the lead horse called.

The residents buzzed with excitement as they cleared the main street of the town, gathered on either side. Children stood on tiptoes, peeking out from behind their mother’s skirts or seated upon their father’s shoulders.

Baelfire and Rumplestiltskin stood off to the side in surprise.

“Princess Emma and Prince Neal seem quite popular…” he said softly.

“Oh, they are!” the woman standing next to him remarked. “The whole royal family is, actually. They say the prince was a poor farm boy before Queen Snow married him. They always hear out the woes of the farmers that live on the edge of the kingdom.”

More horses galloped through, carrying banners of the royal family.

“Emma and Neal seem to be following in Queen Snow and Prince David’s footsteps too. They’re always out talking to the people. It really makes me feel like I’m being heard, y’know? My mother used to tell me we’d be lucky to see King Leopold once a year.”

“We don’t even know what our king looks like,” Papa said. “Only the duke of our area.”

The woman smiled kindly. “Have you considered staying here after the tournament?”

“Well… the people here have been quite friendly,” Papa hummed in consideration.

They couldn’t very well return to their village they’d come from, given they had managed to escape from the Duke and his awful reign of terror. The truth was, Baelfire wasn’t sure if Papa had thought it all the way through after their escape.

Finally, three horses arrived. One white, carrying a girl with blonde hair, one chestnut brown, carrying a younger boy, and the third was a majestic black stallion, carrying a woman with dark hair and sharp features.

The horses came to a halt, and the riders dismounted, leading their horses to the troughs of water available.

Baelfire felt his heart stop as the girl met his gaze, fingers moving of their own accord in a shy wave.

“Princess Emma!” the woman next to them called. “It’s so lovely to see you and Neal out and about.”

Emma laughed a little, hopping over a small mud puddle to meet them. “It’s nice to see you too, Miss Diana. Neal and I figured we’d get a bit of freedom before the contest starts and Mama and Daddy have us stuck being stuffy royals all day.” Her face, which had screwed up into a scowl, softened as she looked at Baelfire and Rumplestiltskin. “I don’t think I’ve seen the two of you before.”

Papa bowed immediately, holding on to his walking stick carefully. “No - no your highness. We’re new here… we’ve come from Senaela for the contest, you see.”

“It’s okay - you don’t have to bow. I’m surprised that news of the contest reached there after mother and father had a falling out with King Thomas and Princess Ella…” Emma trailed off, then shrugged. “Welcome to Misthaven regardless. It’s nice to see some new faces here.”

“Thank you, your highness.”

“Emma,” she said. “I’m Emma.”

Baelfire still felt awestruck, reaching to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m Baelfire. This is my Papa, Rumplestiltskin.”

Emma curtseyed just a little. “It’s so nice to meet you both. What’s - ”

“Emma! We need to get back to the palace!” the older woman called.

A scowl appeared on Emma’s face as she turned away from them briefly. “Coming, Regina!” She turned back, smiling at Diana. “You’ll help them get to the palace grounds tomorrow, won’t you, Diana?”

“Of course, Princess Emma.”

Emma gave them a small wave before retreating back to her horse, and within moments, the royal caravan had gone, and Baelfire’s heart was still stuttering.

The next morning, Baelfire was in awe as he took in the castle grounds. It looked more like a festival than a normal contest. Tents of food and other vendors lined the edges of the main path, and games were scattered along the immaculate lawn.

Papa was up on the stage, spinning up a storm with the other contestants, but he could see the piles of wool next to Papa growing larger than the others.

Baelfire sat on an empty patch of grass, listening to a small group of musicians playing. This place was a dream. No evil duke, no ogres… were they finally safe here?

“Hello Baelfire.”

He jumped to his feet and twisted around, bowing. “Hello Princess Emma.”

“How are you enjoying the festivities?”

Baelfire smiled. “It’s very fun. Why did you guys throw a festival like this? I thought it was just a contest for spinners.”

An early spring breeze brushed against them, and Emma pulled her cape tighter around her. “It’s a spring celebration. We’ll hand out the yarn to those that need it, so people can make blankets and warm clothing for next winter,” she explained.

“Wow… that’s so kind. I didn’t think royalty could be like that.”

Emma giggled, holding out her arm to guide him through the festivities. “Well, Daddy knows how hard it is to survive winters. He didn’t want to see the people suffer when he married mother.”

Baelfire smiled. He couldn’t imagine being worthy of living in a place like this. But then, anything would be better than the village they’d come from, with the ogres and the dukes drunk on power.

“What are you and your Papa going to do after the contest is over? Will you return home?”

Baelfire bit his lip. “We don’t really have a home anymore. We fled from the Ogre Wars. The duke wanted to take me away to be a soldier on the front lines.”

“You can’t be much older than I.”

“Fifteen.”

“We’re the same age, then. And they expect you to fight in a war?”

“It used to be thirteen.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “That’s terrible! I mean, Mama taught me how to fight, but she would never tell people our age to go fight in a war! You must stay in Misthaven. You’ll be safe here.”

“Thank you, Princess Emma.”

“Emma! There you are!” an older woman called.

Baelfire glanced over his shoulder, then stiffened when he realized the queen and prince regent were coming toward them. His manners kicked in when he saw the sword on the prince’s hip, dropping into a low bow.

“Mama, Daddy, I was just showing Baelfire around,” Emma explained. “His Papa’s in the contest today. Rumplestiltskin.”

“Ah, the favorite to win,” David said. “Your father is quite the talent.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” he managed to squeak out. “We’re very honored to be here.”

Snow glanced up at the sky, gauging the direction of the sun. “We should be announcing the winner in about an hour, if you would like to wait with your father, Baelfire.”

He nodded slowly as Snow and David walked off. He and Emma wandered around the square for a bit longer before he stood on the stage alongside his father, who was a bundle of nervous energy, his good leg bouncing.

“And the winner of this year’s contest is… Rumplestiltskin!” Queen Snow announced.

Despite the thunderous applause and cheers from the people fathered, all Baelfire could focus on was the wide smile on Emma’s face, and the light dusting of pink in her cheeks.

Perhaps they would stay in Misthaven after all.

[calpops]

positive | c.h.

You and Calum get positive news regarding the family you’re trying to start.

1k words

dates with cal masterlist

Copyright © 2020 calpops. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format (translations included).

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The house is empty when you get home, a plastic bag from the pharmacy in your hand and hope in your heart. You want Calum with you but don’t know that you can wait until he gets home. He’ll be in a writing session until the moonless sky bids you only darkness as a friend. You bite your lip and look to Duke who’s snuggled up on the couch, staring unblinkingly back at you, as if to question your next move. You discard the bag and resign yourself to the cushions with the old dog but can’t promise that you’ll wait, only that you’ll try to. Your endeavor to start a family with Calum has been wonderful but the waiting game of yes or no has been exhausting. It’s been months since you both decided you were ready, months since the wedding and the honeymoon where the desire to start a family was sealed with promises and kisses and passion.

You doze off with the TV on, dreaming a dream reminiscent of one Calum had that woke him in the night. A dream of white picket fences, little feet running through hallways, porch swings and stories and a family filled with love that will last a lifetime. You rouse when the front door opens and Calum calls out for you, a soft ‘sweetheart’ pulling you from the cushions, hands rubbing at your tired eyes as he comes into focus. He stands in front of you, plastic bag in his grip and curiosity on his face. The lights are off but you can make him out from the glow of the tv.

“Did you”— Calum begins to ask but you shake your head and cut off his question before it gets all the way out.

“I wanted to wait for you,” you explain, all of the previous times you had been together. All of the negative signs warranting consolement from each other. You wanted to wait in case you needed the refuge of his arms and wanted to wait in case a celebration could be had.

“Good,” he says with a nod and offers you a hand to help you off the couch. You waited for him but now he doesn’t want to wait any longer and you can’t blame him. Months have gone by and patience is weary and nerves are frayed for both of you.

There was a night of tears and worries and heartache that bid words of reassurance. Calum promised that even if you couldn’t have kids you would still have kids, you would still have and be a family. Thoughts of adoption had been traded and it filled your hearts. You had both discussed the possibility of adopting no matter what; whether you could get pregnant or not, and decided that would be in your future.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Calum says as if he can see into your mind and anxieties. The words help instill that faith into you and know it will be okay, that a family will be had and your dreams can come true.

You nod and suck in a breath, “I know,” you say as you make the short walk to your bedroom and the en-suite off of it.

Another wait ensues once the test is taken. Five minutes feels like five lifetimes as you pace the bedroom. Calum sits on the bed, tries to pull you into his lap to wait with him, but your feet won’t stop moving—they’re trying to keep time with your mind. Your stomach roils with nerves but you calm them with the promises and assurances that have been made. With possibilities and the knowledge that pregnancy isn’t the one way to make and have a family.

Your phone buzzes, the alarm going off and ringing through your ears and rattling your bones. You walk to the dresser where you placed it and turn it off, look back at Calum who’s stood and is waiting for you to lead the way. You take in another breath, feel your shoulders tighten and then relax as Calum puts a hand on the small of your back. It’s just a few small steps into the bathroom but it feels like a journey. You take the steps together, footsteps falling in tandem as you approach the bathroom and the counter where the test still lies. Your hands shake and your throat burns. You look at Calum, not convinced you can be the one to read the test again.

“You look,” you say, eyes slipping shut and weight bearing against Calum’s chest. Calum’s arms wind around you and he dips down to kiss your cheek. He leaves you for a moment so he can round you and get to the counter.

“It’s positive.”

The two words break you from your entanglement of thoughts. Your eyes spring open and a gasp leaves you. You never thought the news would bring Calum to his knees but they hit the floor and his arms find your waist, they bring you to him, his head rests against your stomach where life and love now grows within you. You run your hands through Calum’s hair, a smile slowly forming on your face, eyes watering and heart hammering out the last of your nerves.

“You’re gonna be a dad,” you manage to get out in a whisper and shut your eyes again; dreams coming to life right before you. You tremble, hands stalling in Calum’s hair, falling to your sides. “We’re gonna be a family.”

Calum stands, slowly, takes your face in his hands softly and wipes a stray tear from your cheek. “We’re already a family,” he reminds you, to which you nod, another tear sliding down your cheek. “Now we’re gonna be parents.”

You know you’ll have to go to the doctor and get a blood test to confirm that it’s truly positive but the plus sign on the counter is enough to bring you both to tears filled with hope and love. But Calum’s right. He’s your family, with kids or without. You’re positive about that. You’re also positive Calum will make the best dad and that your family will keep growing; from pregnancy and adoption, from all the forms of love that can be had in this world.

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[noblest-roman-of-them-all]

More Than That

A bit of a follow up idea to See Me/More Than What They See

Thomas stopped at the bottom of the staircase when he found Remus sitting cross-legged on the dining table. The Duke seemed to freeze when they met each other's eye as if hoping if he were still enough Thomas might not notice him.

"What are you doing up?"

So much for that idea. Remus blinked and shook his head. "I should be asking you that since you're the only one that actually needs sleep."

"So you're not what's been keeping me awake?"

"If I were, you probably wouldn't be surprised to see me, don't ya think?" Remus asked snidely.

The tone caught Thomas off guard. "Are you okay?"

"You're the one hallucinating, amigo, not me." The sarcasm Remus had been going for was buried in defensiveness.

Thomas moved over to the table and pulled himself onto it next to Remus.

"What are you doing?" The Duke questioned in open confusion.

"Like you said- sang- whatever, I...am trying to be more honest with myself. All of myself. That includes you. So. What's going on?"

Remus's brow furrowed and for a moment he just stared at Thomas in guarded confusion. "Did Janus put you up to this?"

"What?" It was Thomas's turn to wear a look of confusion.

"Janus. Wears a hat? Has a creepy eye? Actually an important part of you? Ringing any bells?"

"No, hold on. Why would you think he'd put me up to this?"

Remus shrugged self-consciously and shifted his gaze to the floor. "It's not like you actually care. You are the one who said you hated me," he muttered.

"You did keep me up all night thinking about murder-"

"It's not all I do," Remus cut in with a whisper. He rubbed his eyes with a soft sniff. "I mean, I get it. I don't like it sometimes either, but it's my job. I don't actually get a say in the matter. I don't blame you for hating me." He ran a quick hand under his eye. "It's not like the others like me much either." He tensed, shrinking down a bit when Thomas rested a hand on his back.

"I was wrong to though. You...are a part of me. And there's no getting around that. Those kinds of thoughts were happening long before I knew your name and at that point...I hated the thoughts, but it was always the thoughts that I hated. It was wrong for me to direct that hate to you just because I learned your name. And I'm sorry that I've been doing that, Remus. That picture of I drew me electrifying my brother...that was your idea, wasn't it?"

Remus nodded silently.

Thomas nodded too, taking in the information with a sigh. "What did you mean when you said you don't always like it either?"

Remus worked his jaw, staring at the ground below. "Y'know when...you're tired or hyper or whatever and it doesn't feel like you can catch your mouth before stuff falls out? And you wanna stop yourself from doing something stupid, but, like, you're so far in you can't stop? It feels like that a lot. Like...a caffeine high and I'm just buzzing around waiting for the crash. Sometimes it can be fun to get a reaction. But I don't like all of it. It doesn't always feel like stuff I made. It's just...my job to translate it."

"That does make sense."

Remus's head picked up.

"I mean, it's not like I want to actively think about murdering my friends, or murder in general really. Yeah, sure, I'll watch a murder mystery every once in a while, but even those are different. It's like Logan said, the reason all that was bothering me so badly was because of how badly I was already feeling. And a lot of it stemmed from fear. Knowing what I do now helps to calm those fears, but there are still going to be fears and stresses and there are going to be times when it gets overwhelming. I think that's kind of unavoidable. And I think that when all those things are left to stew, it really doesn't make for a good head space which is what sets you off on those 'caffeine highs'. Does...that sounds right?"

Remus nodded and looked back at the floor. "That's what..." he sighed, "'sets me off' most of the time. Even for stuff that is mine. Sometimes it is mine, I'll admit that. Jumping out of the car and stuff. But that's not all of it. I- I can be useful too."

"Y'know, I've been thinking about it. And...I kinda think that even those thoughts about jumping out of a car or running the car into a tree might be useful too. Because. Maybe if they're happening more than usual that's sort of an early warning that I need to take a look at how I'm doing with my mental health. Because...those kinds of thoughts can lead to stuff like suicidal ideation. And I need to be aware of the difference between it happening once and when it's repetitive. Because if it's happening a lot, that could be an indicator that something is going on and maybe I need to look at getting some help. What do you think?"

Remus simply nodded.

"Is there something else on your mind?"

The Duke forced a smile and shook his head. "I think that's enough for tonight. Don't wanna push my luck, heh. Thanks for...apologizing and stuff." He slid from the table, but Thomas caught his shoulder.

"Remus, wait-"

"You still have stuff to do tomorrow- today. You should get back to bed."

"Why are you up?"

"I don't need sleep, I'm imaginary, remember?"

"No one else is up," Thomas challenged. "Remus, I genuinely want to help. But I can't do that if you won't talk to me."

Remus sighed. "That's not what I meant."

Thomas half squinted in confusion. "What's not what you meant?"

"You're the one in charge, so if that's- how that's how you wanna see me, I'll- I'll adjust. I mean, everybody gets more than one job. So I can do that. If that's how I'm useful, I can do that."

"That doesn't answer my question," he challenged gently. "What's not what you meant, Remus?"

"It's fine," the Duke shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I can do that-"

"Remus-"

"I get it. I'm not really what you want so it's okay-"

"Remus," Thomas cut in again. "What's not what you meant?"

"I'm Creativity," he answered quietly. "I can be useful that way. But I know you don't really like that so- so it's okay. I won't complain if I can be helpful a different way."

Thomas let out a breath. "Oh, of course!"

Remus nodded. "You have Roman so you don't really- what are you doing?" He asked when Thomas stood and wrapped his arms over the Duke's shoulders.

"I'm hugging you."

"I- I don't-"

"Put your arms around me, doofus," Thomas answered wryly.

Remus did as he was told and a second later dropped his head against the other's shoulder.

"You're right." Thomas took a step back but kept his hands on Remus's shoulders. You're my Creativity. You're not just my intrusive thoughts. And I know that that's important to you and I promise I'm trying to learn to fully accept that. But just like Roman is more than Creativity, you're more than that too. And it's important to me that you know that. But I do know that you are Creativity. And I know you're important as my Creativity. You've helped me create things before and I know you will in the future as well. I can't promise I'll like every idea-" he thumbed away the tears tracking down Remus's face "-I know it probably seems like it, but I don't always agree with Roman either, but I can promise to try to listen more."

"I'll try to keep the other stuff under wraps," Remus croaked.

"Can I ask you another question?"

Remus nodded and rubbed his eyes.

"The shoe stack challenge. That was you too, wasn't it?"

"Didn't go over so well."

"It was definitely unique though. And it sparked a good conversation that needed to happen. You do help me, Remus. In some pretty weird ways. But I want you to know that. You do help, and I'm seeing that now. I'm sorry I got you so worked up. Do you wanna come lie down with me?"

Remus smiled faintly and shook his head. "I don't wanna accidentally keep you up or anything."

"I don't think you will. I mean, Virgil and I have fallen asleep together talking and that was fine."

Remus hesitated, gnawing on his lower lip.

"Okay, how about this-" he slung an arm over Remus's shoulders and began walking back to the stairs. "C'mon, Dukey, let's go to bed."

[dcbbw]

Drake. Singing "Jolene" in the shower. Please please pretty please. xoxoxo

Hahahahahahahahahaahahaha, BURNS!!!! Hopefully I delivered what you were looking for.

To provide context/background to whomever reads this, @burnsoslow and I have random late-night convos that cover a whole range of topics. The other night, we were discussing Drake Walker’s taste in music. I see him liking old-school country and 70s rock (think The Eagles and Fleetwood Mac). Then I got this image of Drake in the shower singing Dolly Parton’s Jolene, a song about a woman pleading with a temptress not to take her man.

Well, then the question became which Drake? The answer is below the cut.

Song lyrics are from Jolene and are the property of their respective owner(s). Forgive me, Dolly for taking liberties with some of your words, but Burnsy came up with the BEST name!

Thanks to my bears for pre-reading!

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Answer has hints of lemon. 

Driam

Drake Walker was in the shower, his fingers working shampoo into his thick, brown hair. As suds bubbled over his scalp and transformed his mane into a white, soapy cap he sang.

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene I'm begging of you please don't take my man Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene Please don't take him just because you can

Your beauty is beyond compare With flaming locks of auburn hair With ivory skin and eyes of emerald green Your smile is like a breath of spring Your voice is soft like summer rain And I cannot compete with you Jolene

Liam joined him, the hot water pelting his body as Drake began the second verse. Liam’s heart twisted at Drake’s song choice. Coronation was mere hours away; Liam would be fully duty bound to Cordonia and her soon-to-be Queen before the night was over.

“You have no competition, love,” Liam murmured against Drake’s wet skin as he stepped behind his lover, his arms encircling his waist, hands splayed across Drake’s hips.

Drake stopped singing. “Hey, Li,” he said softly.

“This Jolene is not an apt description of Lady Riley. She sounds more like Duchess Olivia,” Liam frowned as his hand began stroking Drake’s length.

“Ha! Never made the connection, but I suppose you’re right.” Drake’s eyes closed in both bliss and hurt at his King’s touch.

“I swear on everything Drake, Lady Riley won’t come between us and what we have. It’s just a temporary situation.”

Drake stepped closer under the shower head, letting the water rinse the shampoo; rivulets of soapy water rand down his back, causing Liam to release his hold from Drake.

“Did you hear me, love?”

Drake nodded, not trusting himself to speak. If his lips parted now, he would tell Liam the truth and he had promised Riley she could be the one to tell Liam.

Liam’s choice would refuse his proposal. Because she had chosen Drake. And they were leaving for America in a week.

It broke Drake’s heart, but he and Liam would never be together they way they both wanted and deserved. Everyone was free to love the way they wanted to except the King. And Liam would never, could never give his country the attention it needed if Drake were in the picture.

Already, he was planning to divorce a Queen he hadn’t even married.

Drake would say his goodbyes to Liam after Riley broke the news. He wondered if he could ever say goodbye to Liam. The man was ingrained in his mind, his skin, his very soul.

He had to. It was for the best. It was for Cordonia.

Commoner’s Wife AU Drake

The Duchess of Valtoria blearily opened one eye, letting out a loud groan at the time. 9 am. Her head hurt and her mouth was dry from consuming too much alcohol and not enough food at the charity gala her Great House had hosted the night before. She had been too busy being the dutiful wife and gracious hostess.

She sipped whiskey with her husband, Drake, as they made their rounds; their smiles were wide, and their questions sincere as they networked with their fellow nobles. She drank wine with the ladies of court while the men smoked cigars. She had flitted from table to table during dinner, making sure everyone was full and happy, with a martini in her hand.

When she finally sat down to eat with her husband, the orchestra had begun to play, and the Duke and Duchess led everyone in the first dance.

The entire evening, her eyes constantly strayed to the King, who had escorted Duchess Olivia to the soiree. Riley’s eyes narrowed whenever Liam’s fingers touched Olivia’s. Her jaw clenched when she saw the King and Duchess dancing, his hands placed just above her buttocks and her slender, pale arms snaked around his neck.

Her husband saw it all.

Riley rolled onto her back, her head sinking into her pillow. She had already decided she wasn’t going to do anything other than hydrate and pop ibuprofen. Her phone buzzed; her hand reached out to grab it.

Liam:  Last night’s gala was magnificent, yet pales compared to the shining jewel that is you. The Crown’s contribution is forthcoming. I miss you.

Riley deleted the message and tossed her phone back onto the bedside table. Fuck you and Olivia.

She had just risen from the bed to use the bathroom when she heard the shower turn on. Drake. She decided she would kiss her husband good morning and plead hangover to get out of any plans he may have made for them for the day. What good was being a Duchess if one couldn’t take a day to rest and relax?

And sulk over one’s lover being lovey-dovey with someone else.

Riley entered the bathroom, hearing Drake singing. She raised an eyebrow. Two things Drake didn’t do: sing and dance. She listened to his voice, a deep bass, singing an old Dolly Parton tune. But the words were wrong.

She talks about you in her sleep And there's nothing I can do to keep From crying when she calls your name JoLiam

And I can easily understand How you could easily take my girl But you don't know what she means to me JoLiam

Riley’s hand covered her O-shaped mouth. Did Drake know?  The twisting in her stomach was not so much about being caught; she did have enough love for Drake to not want him to be hurt. It just wasn’t strong enough to overcome her need for Liam.

She hastily coughed to announce her presence; the singing stopped.

“Brooks?” Drake called out.

Riley stuck her head in the shower; the spray lightly peppered her skin. “Good morning,” she said softly.

Drake grinned. “Good morning.”

“Hey, how about waffles for breakfast? And that thick cut bacon you like?”

Drake looked at her in confused surprise. “Are you up for it? You had more than your share of liquor last night.”

Riley kissed Drake’s wet lips, slipping in a little bit of tongue. “You’re my husband! Of course I’m up for it. And anything else you may want to do today.”

Drake looked searchingly over his wife’s expression. “Are you sure?”

Riley nodded, a bright smile on her face. “Positive!”

Drake soaped his washcloth. “Brooks, are you happy? With me?”

Riley swallowed over the lump in her throat. “There’s no one I’d rather be with,” she lied.

She left the bathroom to cook breakfast before her husband saw the truth in her eyes.

Upstate AU Dramien

Heavy rain poured outside while Drake Walker and Damien Nazario lay in bed watching the Saved by the Bell reboot on one of their many streaming services. It was 10 am, but with no lights on their bedroom, the room was as dark as if it were still 6 am.

“Thank GOD we cleaned out the gutters last weekend,” Drake commented.

“Hmmmm”, Damien responded absently.

He wasn’t the house person. He liked the idea of home ownership: It represented adulthood and was a great investment, but the work it took to keep up the house and protect it from unnecessary problems? The tree pruning, gutter cleaning, keeping sewage lines clear? Drake took care of that or found folks who would.

“You know, it doesn’t get dark like this in the city when it rains,” Drake observed as they watched Lexi shy away from kissing Jaime because he really liked Aisha.

“The lights from all the stores and office buildings penetrate the cloud cover.” Damien shifted in the bed to pull more sheets over his body. His eyes were glued to the screen. “Why does it not surprise me that Zack Morris is an absentee father?”

“I wonder why Jessie is still hanging in there with her loser husband. He’s having an emotional affair with a character from his book!”

“And now said character is pregnant.”

Drake shook his head as he grabbed the remote to turn the television off. He glanced over at Damien. “Breakfast?”

Damien nodded. “I’ll cook if you wash the dishes.”

“I cleaned the gutters so we don’t have to worry about it raining on our heads. You cook and do dishes, and I’ll take care of dinner.”

“Deal”

Drake climbed out of bed. “I’m gonna grab a shower.”

“In our new manly bathroom?” Damien teased.

“It was PINK! ALL OVER! Like a teenage girl puked up everything Pinterest in there! Even the toilet was pink.”

“I like pink!” Damien argued.

“You like everything I don’t.” Drake gave Damien a quick kiss on his lips and padded into their master bath.

Alone in the bed, Damien stretched before getting up and making the bed. He then went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. The sounds of the shower and Drake’s singing greeted him.

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene I'm begging of you please don't take my man Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene Please don't take him just because you can

You could have your choice of men But I could never love again He's the only one for me Jolene

“Why are you begging Jolene to leave me alone?” Damien teased as he stepped into the shower with his lover.

“Why aren’t you cooking breakfast? Drake countered.

“I missed you,” Damien replied as he grabbed his washcloth.

Drake looked at him knowingly. “You think I’m going to do the cooking as well as the home improvements.” He shook his head. “Not happening.”

“Jolene would happily do it.”

“I’m not Jolene. And she needs to stay 50 feet away from your ass.”

“I love it when you’re jealous.”

Drake grabbed Damien around his waist and pushed his back against wet tile. “How about some … dessert before breakfast?”

Damien kissed Drake deeply. “Always down for dessert.”

“But only if you’re making it with me,” Drake clarified.

“Jolene only cooks breakfast.”

DC AU Drake (Issa throwback)

It was the morning after Drake Walker had broken up with Riley Brooks inside of the Columbia Heights Target. He hadn’t slept a wink and was hoping a hot shower would soothe his red, burning eyes and relax him enough to get some type of rest.

Or wash away his guilt.

He stepped beneath the water, wishing there was someone he could talk to, but he didn’t even have an explanation for what had happened. He wanted to call Brooks and see how she was holding up; they had been friends too long for it to just end that way. But Drake had no idea what to say to make it better, and she was hurting enough.

As he shampooed his hair, a memory came to him.

Drake was in the shower, his hair filled with suds and his conditioner bottle in his hand, his mouth to it as if it were a microphone. He was belting out Dolly Parton’s 9 to 5, and so caught up in the song he didn’t notice that Riley had slipped into the shower behind him.

She stood, her hands crossed over her chest as she giggled. Drake turned quickly, dropping the bottle; he grinned at her sheepishly. “You heard that, huh?”

“You’re missing the boobs and hair, but you kinda nailed it.”

“Ya think?” Drake picked up the conditioner.

“I didn’t peg you as a Dolly Parton fan.” Riley stepped in front of him to let the water wet her body.

“She is ICONIC, and we do not deserve her!” Drake began to shampoo his girlfriend’s hair. “Did you know rumor has it she wrote Jolene and I Will Always Love You on the same day?”

Riley squirted her rose and peony scented bodywash onto her washcloth. “Really? Homegirl was going through that day.”

“But she’s been married to her husband for over 50 years,” Drake pointed out.

Riley turned to face him. Her hands pressed against his shoulders. “Doesn’t mean they didn’t have problems.” Her eyes looked into Drake’s, the slightest hint of uncertainty in them. “We’re good, right?”

Drake looked at her, puzzled. “Why do you ask that?”

“I just don’t want to be hurt. Or killed.”

Drake pulled Riley closer. “You’ve been watching too many Lifetime movies.”

“Maybe.” Riley laid her head on his shoulder. “I just … “

“Shhhhhh,” Drake interrupted her. “You’re it, Brooks. We’re good. We’ll always be good.”

Drake wiped a soapy cloth over his torso. He shook his head, wondering what the hell he was going to do. Brooks deserved an apology, an explanation. But he had to find the words, because right now it was looking like he was thinking with his dick.

And Alyssa Devereaux was so much more.

Devereaux. She deserved the truth.

Drake had to find a lotta words.

Fuck!

Another Dolly Parton song popped into his head and in a cracked voice, he began to sing.

I had to have this talk with you My happiness depends on you And whatever you decide to do Jolene

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene I'm begging of you please don't take my man Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene Please don't take him even though you can Jolene, Jolene

Tagging:  @sirbeepsalot @jared2612 @katedrakeohd @jovialyouthmusic @hopefulmoonobject @amomentofsinclairity @ao719 @burnsoslow @bbrandy2002 @janezillow @marietrinmimi @annekebbphotography @merridithsmiscellany-blog @queenjilian @texaskitten30 @glaimtruelovealways @indiacater @forthebrokenheartedthings @kingliam2019 @bebepac @zaffrenotes @liyanin @liamxs-world @choiceslife @ac27dj @the-soot-sprite @gnatbrain @sanchita012 @anotherbeingsworld @atha68 @hopelessromanticmonie @amandablink @cmestrella @iaminlovewithtrr @cinnamonspongecake @lifeaskim @starrystarrytrouble @liamandneca @liamrhysstalker2020 @alyssalauren @ladyangel70 @yourmajesty09 @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @twinkleallnight @umccall71

 #long post #dcbbw answers #Jolene ask #very slightly, lightly ns*w #drake walker

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Imagine during live with Cal she's like "I've been craving [favorite snack] but I can never them at my store" and then Cal is at his goto grocery store and sees them and buys like 5 of them. And then he just mails them to her with some other goodies and a few pictures of Duke and him and ~him~ 😉👉👉 and she posts the carepackage on her ig story and everyone on twiter is freaking out bc they remember her comment on live

I’m seeing a vision! I tweaked this just a little. 

Here’s part one, two, and three. It’s the Distance series on my masterlist. 

Feel free to send me any ideas you have for this universe. I’ll try to use as many as I can, while still progress the story along!

_____________________________

So Calum’s waiting at the airport, sunglasses and baseball cap. It doesn’t completely make him unrecognizable. But it helps enough. He had planned to get the airport right as she was landing so that he could avoid the crowd as he waited. He got to the airport and she hadn’t texted him yet. So he assumed that the plane got delayed just a little bit. So Calum just waits and a couple fans approach him, asking for a quick picture. He obliges but when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket, he graciously backs out. “Sorry I can’t chat for longer. Here to pick someone up.”

And the fans totally understand and thank him again for the time he did spend with them. When Calum checks his phone, there’s a text from her: On my way out now. Plane had to circle for a bit before a strip opened up for them to land. Calum’s not worried and keeps his gaze glued to the sliding doors. There area few minutes, that feel like an eternity, but soon the sea of people starts to thin and Calum can spot her, with her suitcase next to her and she’s glancing around too. 

And just before he calls out her name, she spots him. Her bright is just as big and she runs over, colliding into his chest. And Calum’s trying not to think of how she somehow just seems to fit into his arms and how he really likes having her there with him even though it’s only been literal seconds. And she’s trying not to think about how Calum’s scent of Old Spice, faded but not gone cologne, and Gain detergent reminds her of her childhood and she’s not even sure how that happened, but it did. Dear God, save their souls. 

 So inside the truck, after getting her suitcase into the truck, Calum points to the bag at her feet on the floor the passenger seat. “Didn’t bring Duke, but I did bring snacks.”

So as she peers inside she sees her favorite snacks. “You did not!”

“I was going to ship them to you. But by the time, I was able to get my hands on some, travel restrictions her lifting and like, we started planning on your visit. So I just held onto them. They haven’t expired! I checked.”

“Thank you,” she returns, stretching against the seatbelt and kissing cheek. So she pulls out her phone and starts recording. And it’s just the profile of Calum’s face as he’s working to get through the traffic of the airport, but it’s fine. “So this man, right over there,” and her hand comes into frame as she gently pokes his cheek, “bought me my favorite snacks? And like, where the hell have they been hiding all the good men like you at? Thanks, Cal.”

“You’re welcome,” he smiles, throwing a quick glance in her direction and into the camera. But on the inside, he’s trying not to LITERALLY die. Because she just kissed him. Yeah, it was on the cheek, but still.  It fucking counts. That was a kiss. She initiated that and holy shit, he really needs to focus on the road but his cheek is tingling from the brief contact of her soft lips. Calum hopes he’s playing this really cool, but he’s so not cool on the inside. No, right now his pits are a swamp, and he’s pretty sure he might vomit, but right now he has to keep it together. He’s not thirteen for fuck sake, but everything feels so new in that first puppy love kind of ordeal. Even he’s over himself for reacting this way, but still as the drive settles in, his stomach still tenses up a little when she laughs and he’s hearing it in person and not ever speakers or through headphones. It’s ten times more magical in person. 

Soon they get to his place. As she gets situated, Duke’s sniffs around her, but doesn’t go straight up to her. However, a couple hours later, while she and Calum are in the kitchen, figuring out what to eat for lunch, Duke walks up to her. She feels his snout at the back of her heel and she laughs because it tickles. “Hello, nice to finally meet you Mr. Duke.”

He looks up at the sound of his name and then when she squats down, her palms up for Duke to sniff at. Calum’s heart is melting in his chest. He knows that this is it for him. He’s literally falling off the deep end because Duke, who’s not great with folks, is approaching her, of all people. If Duke falls in love, then he has not choice. That’s it, that’s a wrap. 

She doesn’t want to startle the old man, so she settles for some sniffs and gives him some head scratches and Duke’s content with that. He can handle that before going over to Calum and then flopping onto his belly.  “I would be offended but I know that’s your human,” she jokes. She misses her own dog.  Calum mentioned Duke still being a little hesitant around other dogs and she arranged for a friend to watch them. She would have daily video calls though and that would be enough for the five days she was out of town. 

And later on, in the day, while she’s stretched out on Calum’s couch with her head in his lap and Duke curled up on the opposite side of Calum, she scrolls through Twitter. The TV’s playing a rom-com that she didn’t have to to beg Calum too much to watch. The fans are having a RIOT over the video you just posted. With comments like: He remembered her favorite snacks. Wow, what a world to live in when i can stan a thoughtful King. And a few others. One sticks out, I totally get that their relationship is their business. But omg, this is love if I’ve ever seen it. Calum and her both deserve this. Attached is a bunch of crying emojis along with the weepy eyes one too.  

“You begged me to watch this movie, and you’re on your phone,” Calum teases. 

“It’s a commercial break, thank you very much.” But she’s just staring up at him, the cut of his jaw and the way his eyes melt when he looks at Duke. She’s not sure how she’s going to be able to leave. 

As the movie resumes, she sits back up, the comments on Twitter forgotten.  Because it’s just getting to the good part, the climax of every rom-com ever where the two fated loves are on the brink of losing it all, and Calum’s not even paying attention to it because he’s trying to memorize the way she looks curled up on his couch, and the way her nose wrinkles when she laughs, and the way scoots closer to the edge of the cushions like she can’t get close enough. She just belongs there and Calum’s praying that the universe treats him right just this once. 

As the week continues on, they fall into a easily into a routine and they sight see and just hang around the local shops and places that Calum loves. She snaps so many pictures of Calum, when he’s looking, when he’s not looking. One morning along with her morning cup of tea, there’s a stack of photos. They’re polaroids and some are really tiny, some are bigger. “What’s this?”

“When I got you the snacks, I was gonna send along some photos too. Make it like a care package, and I didn’t want you to leave without them.” So she looks through all, with pictures of Duke, and Calum and Duke and some just of him and she smiles softly. One specifically, of Calum and Duke chilling in Calum’s backyard is just small enough to fit in the tiny slot between her phone and the clear backing of her phone case, so she slips it inside, so the picture faces out and it’s not obstructed by the Pop Socket on the back of it. 

Calum only notices it later in the evening when they’re out at dinner and she’s put her phone face down onto the table. His heart is goo, and while it was goo a long time ago, it’s definitely goo now and he’s not even phased. He’d rather his heart melt and run through his fingers if it means she’s the one with the bucket to collect it all. 

-H

[twinkleallnight]

I am sorry for the long break and thank you if you are still there looking for the update.

Marshmallow

Story till now: Drake has build up his individual life as a veterinary and is working at the royal palace. His childhood friends Liam( having a social season), Max ( sponsoring Riley) and Olivia ( a mystery, may be they had a past) are moving on in their lives. Drake has met Hana and is attracted to her but is confused. At the Beaumont bash he is seated with Hana and Olivia for dinner. God help him.!

For previous chapters: Catch up here

The Debate

Book: The Royal Romance AU

Pairing: Drake x Hana.

Word count: 1,681

Disclaimer: All characters belong to pixelberry.

Rating: Mature

Thank you @yourmajesty09 for beta reading!

“Hell, this is going to be one crazy night!” I shuffle in my chair with discomfort.

“Why now, Mr Walker? You seem to have forgotten too soon all the fun we had. Together.” Livy raises her left brow, an indication of an impending doom she is about to cast.

Hana clears her throat, making Livy shift her gaze and she aims at Hana now. “A very good evening to you too, Lady Hana! Your presence has not gone unnoticed. I wonder what your parents have to say for your blooming relationship with a commoner.” I wince at that but I think its better to ignore.

“He has shown more integrity than any of the nobles here. I am sure they will be pleased to meet him, not that it is any of your business.” Hana retorts.

Hana 1, Olivia 0.

I make a mental note and quietly sip the hot and sour soup in front of me.

The next moment Hana’s eyes are warm as she smiles at me. Her hand rests on my thigh. “He is a thorough gentleman. I have known him for six months now.”

“And I know him since I was six years old.” Livy says in a cold voice.

Olivia 1

“I am not counting quantity. It’s the quality time that matters. And I am blessed to have it all.” Hana keeps looking into my eyes, totally ignoring the fiery duchess. I try giving her the pleading look, in an effort to tell her about the unconquerable Nevrakis. In vain!

Hana 2 Olivia 1. I quietly stick to counting.

Hana seems to be unstoppable today as she continues, “We can talk anything on earth with each other.”

Livy cuts through, “We never felt the need to talk, it was understood.”

I groan but the girls are not even noticing me anymore. Livy continues her attack, “You sound like that stupid girl Anna hardly knowing her fake Prince Hans.” My eyes go wide, it’s unlike Livy to be quoting a fairy-tale. But she is not giving me any heed, and rather fans her hand casually at me with her sharp words. “Just because he moves around with a prince doesn’t make him a prince material”.

Hana “Why does only a prince complete a fairy tale? I am proud to have the one you call a commoner, to sum up my tale. And it’s not just about knowing him. It’s the comfort he gives me.

This is really hot and sour; I don’t know if I am relishing the sour taste of the soup or the heated talk between the ladies. Wait, how is this happening? Since when did I become so much important between ladies? Wasn’t this Liam’s routine?

I lose the count of the score of the debate.

----------

As the dinner wraps up, we are still at the end of the hall, standing near our table. Bertrand is bidding farewell to the king and queen as the formal party comes to an end. Liam is standing next to him with Riley on his side. They share a joke and smile at each other, lost in their own world.

Hana winds her hands around my arm and is unable to contain herself. “Aww they are so sweet together!”

Livy standing on my other side, still in bad mood says, “What’s sweet about it? Giggling like fools all the time.”

“That’s what love does. Makes you happy.” I finally speak. Livy's eyes narrow down on me and she storms away to stand with Madeleine ahead.

“So much for a peaceful dinner!” I sigh. “What’s gotten into you?” I chuckle at Hana.

She sniggers, “I wish she accepts herself. I don’t know what she is trying to hide behind her fierce look. She is sweet inside, isn’t she?”

My gaze settles at Livy's tall figure standing at a distance. Many fond memories of the soft- and warm-hearted girl I knew once, flood my mind. “ Yes, she has been the most caring and loving girl I have known as I grew up.” I place my free hand on Hana’s hands that are still clinging on to my arm.

We all move to the Grand hall for the after dinner festivities. It is more of chaos with everyone engaging in the revelry.

As Hana is pulled into a zig with Max and Riley, I excuse myself to the bar. Liam joins me in some time. “Enjoyed your dinner?” he smirks.

“Seems the king takes pleasure in pain of his subjects.”

He gives out a hearty laugh. “Your expressions were quite comprehensive. You should be glad you were left in one piece after that interaction with the Nevrakis Duchess.”

“I don’t know what I have done, to be her target all the time!”

“She is going through something, I guess. She should be back soon. Don’t worry.” Liam reassures.

“I wish I could help her.” I sigh. “But right now, I need to concentrate on something else.”

“Something or someone?” Liam asks.

“Yes, someone I mean.”

“And does this someone happens to be Lady Hana?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes boss! Hana it is. Since her last conversation with her parents, she seems to be more bold, more rebellious and aggressive.”

“And what are you scared of? Commitment?”

“I don’t know exactly. She is here on her parent’s behest who are looking for some prince or Duke or a lord as a match for her.”

“Well even my parents expected that. Marrying into a noble house. Yet, here I am…” he says fondly looking at Riley.

“Hana belongs to a very different part of the world, Liam, where it’s union of families and not just two people. The equations, the restrictions, the complications are all whirling up and my own feelings feel like being curbed under all those expectations.”

“Why don’t you take one step at a time? Start by speaking out your feelings first to the lady. You can deal with other matters later.”

“Hmm.”

“I think time to stop pondering and take some action.” He looks across my shoulder. I turn around to find Hana walking towards me. “All the best.” Liam whispers in my ear and walks away.

Hana sways smiling at me. “Hana, how much did u drink?”

“ Enough to forget the worries and enjoy the moments.”

I look around and find that most of the guests are falling off one by one. I sit with Hana at the bar as she continues saying silly things in her tipsy mood. After few more shots, she manages a sprig of mint from the bartender and starts plucking out the leaves. “He loves me, he loves me nottt, he loves me, he loves me….”

“Hana, what are you trying?” I interrupt by holding her fingers plucking at the leaves.”

“Shhh! I am trying to find out if Drake loves me.” She whispers a note higher.

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“He won’ttt tell me.” She says with extra emphasis on the T.

“How do you know that if you never asked him?”

“His horse told me. You know his favourittte one. Amber. She told me aaaall.” Hana dragged her last word.

“And just how did this Amber tell u all?”

“As a matter of facttt, she neighed.” Hana explained in worldly wise manner. How can she be so cute and stupid at the same time, I thought? Drunk Hana is cute!

“She said that he won’t tell?” I am finding this charming.

“Yessss.”

“Well, I think you should try asking him once. I am sure he won’t hide.”

“He won’tttt.”

“Nope.”

She suddenly straightens up, “Drake Walker, do you…”

“Not here, Hana. Not now.” I literally snub her. I am rather taken aback by her action. I am scared. I need to accept.

She pouts her lips and slumps back on her stool. I cover her tiny hands with mine and look into her honey orbs.

“Talk to him when you are sober and I promise he will open up to you.”

“Promisss?” Her eyes sparkle.

“Promise!”

Soon it’s just the hosts, Liam and Hana left around me.

Hana takes another shot that Max offers. “Hana, I think you have had enough.” I try to warn her but she is distracted by Max as he starts bragging about his peacocks that he has as pets.

“Aww, that must be so cute.” Hana squeals like a child. “Wǒ ài xióngmāo. Tāmen zuì kě'ài”

“Hana, English please. None of us understands Chinese.”

“Panda, I would love to have pandas as pets. They are cute."

Riley hugs or I may say literally hangs with her arms around Liam’s neck as she purrs, “No one is as cute as my blue -eyed beauty.” She pinches Liam’s cheeks.

Amused, Liam looks at me, “Guess we are the only two sober here.”

“I am awake and in senses too.” Max

Hana swings on my arm. “Would you like to have pandas?” She bats her eyes innocently at me.

“Sure, we can talk about it later. We need to get you back to the palace now. It’s late.” I push towards the exit.

Riley is ecstatic as she stands with Max to see us off while we get into the limo.

Hana cuddles up to me and Liam sits across grinning at me.

Hana’s eyes are almost drooping as she lifts her head and nails it, “Drake, I wanna be your duck!”

I slap my forehead and instantly plead, "Hana, you are better talking Chinese please.”

Liam has covered his mouth and is unsuccessfully trying to control his laughter. Max is doubled over, laughing out while Riley tries to decipher what just happened. I wish everyone was as drunk as Hana at that moment. She tilts her head on my shoulder and shuts her eyes blissfully. Thankfully the vehicle moves and I am relieved.

By the time we reach the palace Hana has passed out. Liam helps me by directing us through the backdoor entry so that no one notices as I carry Hana in my arms to her room.

I tuck her in her bed and quickly retrieve to my room.

My phone buzzes with a message alert.

I keep my phone aside and crash down in the bed. I groan and speak to the walls, 'Good night Livy. Dont have the energy right now for the debate.'

ToTags: @ao719 @aloneautumn @bebepac @charlotteg234 @choicesficwriterscreations @choiceskatie @cordonia-gothqueen @cordonianroyalty @drakewalker04 @gkittylove99 @glaimtruelovealways @kat-tia801 @hopefulmoonobject @hopelessromanticmonie @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @idontknowwhysblog @islandcrow @jovialyouthmusic @jaxsmutsuo @kingliam2019 @lovablegranny @mrswalkers-blog @mom2000aggie @no-one-u-know @ntoraplayschoices @princessleac1 @ritachacha @speedyoperarascalparty @shanzay44 @texaskitten30 @queenrileyrose @sanchita012 @sfb123 @theroyalheirshadowhunter @xpandabeardontcarex @yourmajesty09

[orionares]

BTHB: Captivity

BTHB: Captivity

@badthingshappenbingo​

The Resident

A/N: This originally was a prompt for Bad Things Happen Bingo that spiraled into a +5,000 word story. Ooops. 

A/N2: The rest of this story will be posted on Tumblr over the next few weeks.

-------------------------------

Part One

In hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have gotten off the elevator. 

 Doctor Conrad Hawkins steps hesitantly off of the elevator cart and onto the dark, desolate floor with his instincts blaring that something is seriously wrong. He’s expecting to hear the  bustling sounds of washers and dryers running, generators humming and the squeaks of wheels from laundry and delivery carts. 

Instead, he hears silence.

He takes a few steps forward, listening for any signs of life. There’s power upstairs so it isn’t an outage, Conrad thinks. Where is everyone?

“Hello?” He calls out. His footsteps are the only sounds he hears as walks towards one of the loading dock’s offices. The light switch on the wall doesn’t turn on when he flicks it, giving a second sign that something is seriously wrong. 

CLANG!

Conrad whips around at a clatter that echoes through the floor. A hooded figure pushes a cart from one of the entry doors leading to one of the kitchens with a word or acknowledgement towards Conrad. The doctor slowly begins to walk towards the man and calls out, “Hey! Who are you?”

The figure, keeping his head down, stops in front of the elevator doors but doesn’t move any further.  

Maybe he’s wearing headphones, crosses his mind along with a warning from his gut that he needs to call security. “Hey, do you know where everyone is?”

Conrad watches as the figure lists slight forward before quickly pulling out a small object that he can’t quite place in the darkness. 

The click of a gun safety that follows is unmistakable. 

“You the doc?” the figure, who steps towards Conrad and appears much taller and bulkier than before, asks. Conrad glimpses at the elevator where one of the fire alarms are located. If I can somehow maneuver around him…

“I said , are you the doctor?” 

Conrad holds up his hand and replies calmly, “ Whatever you’re looking for, we can help you upstairs. You don’t need to do this.”

With another step towards Conrad, the armed man’s beady eyes and smirk are illuminated in the moonlight. He’s steady as he holds the pistol directly at Conrad, eliminating Conrad’s assumption of him being a dealer or a junkie. “Don’t make me ask you again,” the man growls. 

The crunch of two footsteps behind him causes Conrad’s blood to run cold. His option to take the elevator and any additional escape routes disappear if he’s surrounded by two armed men. He relents and answers, “Yes, I’m a doctor.” 

 Even in the darkness, the doctor can see the grow of a deeply malicious smile. 

Followed by a quick blow to the back of the head and a slip into unconsciousness. 

------------------------

Small fingers wrap around his finger and he’s absolutely smitten. 

He can see hints of Nic’s smile in her little lips, his mother’s nose and innocence and love in her little brown eyes-

“Wakey, wakey, Doc.”

A deep voice, heavy with a Southern drawl and smugness, yanks Conrad out of the solace of meeting his daughter and back into a world filled with the strong odor of liquor. Before he can even calculate wherever the hell he is or open his eyes, he’s seized by his right arm and hoisted up into a sitting position on a cold, hard surface. The sudden movement brings a wave of nausea that Conrad barely manages to ride for a brief few moments. 

Conrad slowly opens his eyes and winces at the bright light illuminating a unrecognizable figure kneeling in front of him. Skinny with green deep-set eyes, the figure wears a white undershirt under a greasy brown leather jacket with jeans.

“Glad to see you’re still with us, Doc,” the figure comments. His eyes quickly scan Conrad head to toe and chuckles, “You’ve been down for a while. I’d hate for you to die before you serve your purpose.”

Conrad’s words come in a hoarse voice. “Who are you? Where am I?”

“Call me Duke,” the figure answers. He slaps his thighs before rising to his feet. “And you are where you are meant to be, Doctor Conrad Hawkins. Golden Boy, a veteran, headful of hair-the whole package.” Duke turns his back to Conrad as he pauses, “Getting you out of that hospital was a lot harder than expected.” 

Without a forethought, Conrad attempts to lean forward to follow Duke but a force seems to tighten around his wrists and jerk him back. The haze hovering around him continues to break and he finally realizes that the force is handcuffs. 

Duke walks away from Conrad until he stops in front of a long decrepit wooden table. The light that he had woken to shines directly above the table and flickers every few seconds. Duke pats the table, smirking as he explains, “You are going to save the life of a friend of mine. Can’t really go to a hospital, if you get me. If you refuse, there are two men outside this room that will deeply enjoy helping me break every bone in your body and gutting you like a pig.”

Conrad scowls up at Duke while running a finger across the handcuffs. The cold metal is tight around his wrists, leaving no options for escaping the handcuffs. He keeps his demeanor as unimpressed and unafraid until Duke nods and disappears into an open door hanging off the hinges. The doctor takes the opportunity to rest his head on his knees and think, Save a life? I can do that. Stay alive while doing so? I need a-

Groans sound from the hallway before Duke strides into the room with a small black bag in his right hand. Behind him, a tattooed man with a buzz cut and a taller, bulkier man two-man carry a semi-conscious younger man to the table. They lay the injured man on the table before the bulkier man walks over to Conrad and uses a large, meaty hand to shove Conrad to an awkward bent over position to unlock the handcuffs. 

“Get over there,” the bulkier man snarls at the click of the handcuffs unlocking. Conrad brings his wrists from behind his back to in front of him and rubs his left wrist. He is slow to rise to his feet as he battles another wave of nausea. In the meanwhile, Duke leans back against the wall with the small black bag bouncing lightly against his palm and his eyes locked on Conrad. 

The patient, as Conrad hesitantly approaches the table, is no older than twenty-five by his estimate. Blood stains a black pair of sweatpants and a Asics gym shoe up to the light blue tee shirt the man wears. The source of the blood is a small gunshot wound just above his navel. 

“This isn’t a easy patch job,” Conrad calls out for the three captors to hear, “He’s in shock from the blood loss and I don’t know if there’s an exit wound. I’m not trained in surgery.” He turns to look Duke in the eye and stops when Duke’s attention is now solely on a seven-inch-long black tube with two prongs on one end in hand. The tube is familiar from his deployment in Afghanistan and one of the many things he had hoped to never lay eyes again- cattle prod.

Time slows for Conrad- in the brief moment after recognizing the cattle prod, he realizes- I don’t know what to do. He barely manages a lunge towards his right before the tattooed man tackles him onto his stomach. Duke maintains his level of calm as he kneels next to Conrad struggling under the tattooed man’s knee to the back. Conrad holds out a hand and shakes his head frantically, “Don’t. Don’t. Your friend cannot be saved unless he goes to a hospital! I can’t save him here in a garage!”

Duke’s eyes remain blank, empty, as he suddenly jams the prod against Conrad’s side and presses painful, burning volts into him. Conrad screams out in pain as his body stiffens and jerks uncontrollably. The pain is indescribable as every part of him burns and throbs. The longest seconds of his life crawl past him until the prod is pulled away and he’s left biting back tears and vomit. 

And then the prod and the unending pain is jammed into his side again. 

And again. 

“Friend is more of an understatement,” Duke says nonchalantly once he pulls the prod away from the trembling, gasping man in front of him. He glances around the room, thinking about his next steps. “I don’t really care if he dies. Seeing you weak now….sure is worth the wait.”

Conrad spits out bile onto the concrete floor and raises his head barely inch off the floor. In the midst of the trembling and the erratic breathes, he wheezes, “Let me go….please….”

Duke smiles as he watches the doctor’s head drop to the pavement as he loses consciousness. “And where’s the fun in that?”

[zoawrites]

Prompt: a concert. They can meet there, have already planned to go together, by a twist of fate end up there, anything! Lol but at least part of it has to take place at a music concert of any genre

Sorry it took me a little while to get this done! Loved the prompt and I had a lot of fun with it! Thank you! 

Story below the cut! (Rated T)

Also, here’s the AO3 link  

Enjoy!

Zoa ❤️

A Wrong Turn to the Right Place

Ben knew he shouldn’t have listened to the damn GPS. ‘Take a right’, it said. ‘Destination will be on your left’, it insisted.

Wrong.

And that was how Ben landed right in the middle of a fucking rock concert instead of at an isolated cabin in the woods where he could find some peace and quiet to finish his manuscript. Was it rock? There was a stage and guitars and a mosh pit so he assumed it was rock. Then again there was a guy with a banjo and another dude with a cello and the two singers had a country twang so probably not rock.

Was it Indie music? Were they hippies?

Ben didn’t know and didn’t care. He just needed to find someone who had a map of the area so he could find his cabin and get out of this loud, body-filled mess of a field. There was a fleet of food trucks lined up along the edge of the crowd, buzzing with customers.

Surely someone had a map. Ben approached the nearest truck and jumped ahead of the line, getting booed and jeered in the process but he ignored the voices. He wasn’t trying to buy anything.  

“Excuse me!” Ben had to shout to be heard over the music and the people. The man at the window glared at him.

“What’re you doing, man? Back of the line!”

Ben was not dissuaded. “I don't want to buy anything. Do you have a map?”

“If you’re not buying, fuck off! I got real customers!”

“Seriously?” Ben scoffed.

“Get the fuck out!”

Ben flipped him off as he backed away. “Asshole.”

He tried every other truck and a few people in line but no one could - or would - help him. After his final attempt, he stood and scowled at the ongoing concert, hands on his hips. How did he end up here? Fucking GPS… fucking food trucks… fucking loud music… can’t hear a damn thing…  

A tap on his shoulder pulled Ben from his angry contemplations and he turned to tell off the concert-goer with all the pent up rage he was currently nursing only for it to disappear in a puff of smoke.

She was in her early twenties, above average height, chestnut hair cut short so that it framed her face. Which was lovely and covered in adorable freckles to which he could devote a whole chapter of his book. Ben stole a moment to gather his thoughts as he took in her Daisy Duke shorts and black, long-sleeved crop-top that had the word ‘nobody’ emblazoned across the chest in white block letters.

“Excuse me, are you in line?”

“What?” Why was it so fucking loud? They weren’t even that close to the stage. “I can’t hear you!” He pointed at his ears and shook his head helplessly.

The girl - young woman - wrinkled her pert nose but then pointed to the food truck. “Are. You. In. Line?”

“Oh, no…” Ben shook his head. “I need a… help.”

“‘A help’?” She laughed and Ben more than ever wished the music wasn’t so loud so he could hear what he was sure was the clearest, loveliest laugh. Her eyes - green with a touch of gold, like the stalks of tall summer grass waving in the distance - looked him up and down, observing his dark blue henley and light jacket, probably realizing he wasn’t there for the concert.

“I’m lost!” He yelled forlornly. Well, as forlornly as a shout could sound. But she seemed to get the picture. His new friend took pity on him and grabbed his hand, guiding him toward the collection of Port-a-Potties lined up at the edge of the field. There were still plenty of people about, so they weren’t completely alone but the noise pollution was much improved. Although he could have done without the smell.

“You’re lost?” She asked and he heard her accent for the first time. British, soft, warm, like sunlight on a spring day. Ben blinked at her for a second before he nodded.

“Yeah. Lost. My, uh, my GPS told me to come here.”

“Where were you trying to go?”

“A cabin. I rented it. I thought I had the right address,” Ben sent a hand through his hair, ruffling it in exasperation. She seemed to watch the movement with interest. “I wanted…” he looked around and sighed, “I wanted a quiet place to write.”

His companion laughed again and yes, it was definitely as Ben imagined it. Better, in fact. “You’ve definitely come to the wrong place for that!”

“I know,” he managed a crooked smile and she pressed her lips into a tight line, as if repressing one of her own. “I don’t suppose you have a map of the area?”

“I don’t. Don’t you have a mobile? A cell phone you can use?”

“No. I don’t like them.”

“Oh, wow,” she grinned. “I didn’t think any of you actually existed.”

“Any of who?”

“Sasquatch.”

“Ha ha,” Ben rolled his eyes but wasn’t offended, not when her eyes were wrinkled and bright at her own joke. “Very funny.”

“I thought so. Here,” she reached into her shorts’ back pocket and drew out her own phone, “let’s see how far astray you’ve come.”

Turned out, he’d strayed quite a ways off his path. An entire state, in fact. The town his cabin was located at and the one he was currently in shared the same name and, unfortunately, Ben hadn’t double checked when he’d plugged in the address. Just selected the automatic suggestion that popped up on the screen like the idiot he was.

“Well, fuck.”

“I’m sorry.” The girl’s expression was honestly sympathetic.

The crowd behind them cheered as a new song began and Ben glanced mournfully over his shoulder. “Look, I don’t want to keep you. I appreciate your help, but I can manage from here. Go have fun.”

“I can still hear the music. I’m Rey, by the way,” she stuck out her hand and Ben stared at it for a second longer than necessary before he engulfed it with his own giant paw.

“Ben. Ben Solo.”

“Ben.” She said his name slowly, as if savoring how it rolled off her tongue. There was even a minuscule lift to the corner of her mouth, which Ben tried very hard not to stare at. “Solo… You’re a writer? Have I heard of you?”

“No,” he shook his head. When she tilted her head quizzically, he cleared his throat and elucidated. “I’m not published yet. This trip was supposed to be my attempt to finish my manuscript…”

“Not getting to a great start, are you.”

He laughed bitterly. “No, guess not.” Then he heaved a very heavy sigh. “I should get going. I have a long drive ahead of me, apparently.”  

“Why don’t you stay?”

The question came as a surprise and this time he allowed himself to stare at her. “What?”

A charming pink hue lit Rey's cheeks. “The sun’s going down, you see. Probably not a good idea to drive in the dark when you don’t have a map.”

“It wasn’t a good idea in daylight, either,” Ben said wryly and Rey laughed again. “But you’re right,” he added, unable to tear his gaze from her bright eyes. “Probably a good idea to stay. I can find a hotel…”

“You can hang out with my friends and I…”

They spoke at the same time. Her eyes darted away in obvious embarrassment but then peered at him from under lightly-mascaraed lashes. Ben swallowed.

“Really? You don’t even know me.”

Rey tilted her head and gave him a shy smile. “You seem fairly harmless to me. Although, you’re a bit short with food truckers, I’ll admit.”

So she’d seen that. Could his face get any hotter?

“Not my finest hour,” Ben admitted, running a hand through his hair again. Her offer was tempting, and the music wasn’t bad… in fact, Ben could see himself tapping a toe to it. “I won’t be intruding?”

“Of course not!”

Then she suddenly grabbed his hand and hauled him off toward the stage. Rey somehow managed to find all the gaps and passages through the dense collection of people, although, with Ben in tow she didn’t really need to because those passages were being bulldozed anyway. Unfazed by the scowls and middle-fingers flipped at them, Rey tugged him to a spot deep in the crowd where four others were bouncing around to the beat.

A short, dark-haired girl with round cheeks and a contagious smile caught sight of Rey, took one long - very long - look at Ben and smirked.

“That’s not what I meant when I said bring back a snack!” She yelled with a wink, earning an aghast and open-mouthed expression of shock from Rey.

That was Rose Tico’s charming self-introduction. Rey’s other friends, Finn, Jannah, and Kaydel were less free with their thoughts, albeit just as curious. They welcomed him warmly enough. While Ben felt out of place - and knew he was - he couldn’t find it in himself to part from the girl who’d rescued him. So he stood and bobbed his head to the music, enjoying watching the others’ antics and enthusiastic singing along.

Still, it wasn’t exactly his favorite activity, and somehow Rey must have sensed that because sometime later - as the horizon was lit by the pink and purple light of the setting sun - she tugged him back through the crowd and toward grassier areas where there were scattered groups sitting on blankets and lawn chairs.

They sat together in a soft patch of grass and Ben sighed, not trying to hide his relief. “Thanks.”

“I did have an ulterior motive,” she admitted, stretching her toned legs out and crossing them at the ankles.

Ben nodded in encouragement, pretty sure if she wanted to take over the world he’d help her. “What’s that?”

“I want you to tell me about your book.”

“My book?” His brows lifted straight up. “You really want to hear about it?”

She nodded and Ben, right in assuming he had little ability to resist any request she made, launched into a summary of his story: a hard-boiled detective investigating the deep, dirty secrets of a city’s nefarious mobster.

“Is there a love story?”

“There’s a woman,” Ben admitted. “I haven’t decided if he should fall in love with her.”

“I think he should.”

“Thing is, I’m not sure how to write her.”

“Maybe you need a muse.”

Ben lifted his gaze from the grass to focus on her face, on all the little freckles dotting her nose, the strange way the fading light of the sun seemed to worship her cheeks. She was beautiful here and now but he wanted to know how many other ways she was beautiful. How she ate toast in the morning. What her favorite movie was. If she squealed when she saw a bee. Everything. He wanted to know everything about her and write it all down.

“Maybe I already have.”

[largedenominationsplease]

Wish You Were Sober

Summary: The Pogues are growing up and following their dreams, which means it's time for JJ and Kiara to sort through some feelings. Loosely inspired by "Wish You Were Sober" by Conan Gray.

Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: This was originally posted on ao3, but I wanted to share here as well.

August is full of gold and light and sunsets and new beginnings. It’s exciting and revitalizing and hopeful. But at the end of this August, a deep blue shadow edged nearer and nearer, threatening to turn all Augusts deep and blue and dreary for the rest of history. They were all leaving.

After the chaos of the gold hunting summer, when John B and Sarah finally made it back from the Bahamas with the gold, the Pogues had made a solemn pact to stay in the Outer Banks together, and they took it very seriously. Then came graduation and talk of going to college. The constant, “What are you going to do with your life?” questions wore them down. John B, Sarah, and Pope took a gap year, but Pope’s parents had threatened his life if he changed his school plans, especially after he “won a scholarship” from the mysterious “Denmark Tanny Education Grant” - in other words, his secret savings account. Sarah started talking about becoming a social worker, while John B wouldn’t shut up about the police academy and honoring Sheriff Peterkin’s memory. Kiara also talked about her plans, the Peace Corps, or volunteering in Thailand, and though she made it sound like that was years down the road, everyone knew she was getting restless. So, as summer approached, the Pogues had had a serious meeting about the future, or as serious as you can be at eighteen-almost-nineteen. They absolved the pact to stay in the Outer Banks, but they kept strict communication rules: regular updates in the group chat, facetime sessions at least weekly, and frequent visits. And so plans were made; John B and Sarah were moving to Chapel Hill at the end of August so she could attend the University of North Carolina (John B had considered getting a degree in law enforcement, but had decided to work until he was old enough to apply for the police academy). Pope was headed off to Duke to study forensic pathology like he had always dreamed. Frequent jokes were cracked about them attending rival schools, but at least they’d live within thirty minutes of each other. Kiara’s plans involved a little more distance. She had decided to volunteer her way through Europe for a few months once the tourist season was over. She had one-way tickets booked for the middle of September, and she hadn’t mentioned her plans to return as of yet. JJ was the only one without any plans. It came as no surprise that he hadn’t graduated high school, he never attended. Instead, he got a job at a local auto shop his cousin owned. He was lucky they hired him, and though the pay wasn’t phenomenal, it was enough he could pay rent to John B and Uncle T and stay in the Chateau without tapping into his savings. He joked that you couldn’t pay him to leave the Outer Banks, though that felt like a lie. Especially now that summer was ending and these dreams were becoming a reality for everyone else. 

“One last kegger!” John B was saying. JJ tried not to wince at that word: last. 

“Pogues for life!” Kiara whooped, jumping up and threatening to flip the hammock she was sharing with JJ and Pope. 

Pope wrestled the half-finished beer from her hands. “I think you’ve had enough of that.”

Kiara dove across him clumsily, trying to recover the bottle. Almost-drunk Kie was more comfortable around Pope. After their kiss that one summer, things had gotten awkward fast as she realized she didn’t have any romantic feelings for him. They had fought hard to get their relationship back to the easy-going friendship it had been, but it hadn’t made a full recovery - unless one or both of them was drunk. 

“Easy tiger,” JJ said, pulling her back into her spot between himself and Pope. 

She gave him an odd look. “You’re not drunk.”

“No, I have work in the morning.”

“When did JJ become the most mature?” Sarah slurred. She really hadn’t had that many drinks, but then again she was a total lightweight. 

“What do you say, Oh Mature One?” John B shifted so he was looking directly at JJ. “Kegger tomorrow night at the Boneyard?”

“Hell, yeah!” JJ settled back into the hammock, not really thinking about the fact that his arm was still around Kiara’s waist.

The rest of the Pogues whooped in agreement, downing their drinks and reaching for more.

***

JJ woke up five full minutes before the alarm on his phone went off the next morning. Kiara’s feet were in his face and she was snoring softly, as she tended to do when drunk. The slight headache pulsing through his temples told him he had had more to drink than he should have despite going to bed before the rest of the group, which was probably why he didn’t remember Kie crashing in his bed. He threw a blanket across her and made his way to the bathroom. He could see Sarah and John B wrapped around each other in their room, and in the other room, Pope passed out on the pull-out. Just like old times, he thought with a pang of nostalgia.

As he got ready for work and made breakfast JJ found himself getting more excited about the party they’d have that evening, despite his initial apprehension. Though the Pogues were over at the Chateau almost every night this summer, they hadn’t had a real hang at the Boneyard in a while. Maybe one last summer hurrah really would lessen the sting of the Pogues parting ways.

JJ hadn’t bothered with being quiet that morning. Most of the Pogues were deep sleepers. Add alcohol to the mix and he doubted he’d wake anyone up, so it was a surprise when Kiara wandered bleary-eyed and half-asleep down the hall. “Look who decided to make an appearance!” JJ said.

“Shh,” Kie groaned. “No speaking, just coffee.”

JJ obediently handed over his mug of coffee and set about pouring a new one. Kiara hugged the cup close and sank to the floor, sitting conveniently in the exact center of the kitchen. She was wearing one of his sweatshirts - but she always stole all the guys’ clothes. 

“Jeez, Kiara, could you choose a more inconvenient spot, maybe?” She simply squinted up at him from the floor in response. “You’re in pretty bad shape, hope you don’t have work today.”

“Shit!” she cried. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

“I have to be at work at ten,” she groaned. “My dad’s gonna kill me if I show up late and hungover.”

“Need a ride over there?” JJ asked.

“It won’t make you late, will it?”

“‘Course not,” he lied.

“You’re the best!” she jumped up clumsily and kissed him on the cheek before stumbling her way back down the hall to freshen up. She was more or less ready within five minutes, opting to keep on JJ’s sweatshirt, paired with yesterday’s shorts. “How do I look?” she asked, shoving on sunglasses and reaching for a second cup of coffee.

“Hot.”

“Liar. Let’s go.”

They arrived at the Wreck, and JJ asked, as Kiara jumped out of the van, “When do you get off?”

“Four-thirty. Dad might make me stay longer to make up for showing up late, though.”

“I can’t get back here till five.”

“Okay, that’s cool. See you then! Thanks for the ride!” She downed the last of her coffee and chucked the travel mug into the back of the van through the window. She was still off-balance as she ran up to the door. JJ watched until she was inside. Today was going to go by so slowly, he could feel it. 

***

The day ended up dragging by for everyone. There was usually quite a bit of work at the auto shop, but today was abnormally slow. The same went for the Wreck; as they approached the end of tourist season, their business dropped considerably. When five o’clock finally rolled around, Kiara dropped everything and bolted. JJ was just pulling into the parking lot, followed closely by John B and Sarah on JJ’s bike. “Pope’s meeting us there a little later!” Sarah called. She raised an eyebrow as Kiara approached, noticing JJ’s sweatshirt. 

John B was trading off keys with JJ, “Sarah and I are going to pick up the kegs; meet you there?”

Despite the earliness, a few kids were milling around when the crew arrived, mostly Tourons. JJ and Kiara started a bonfire and kicked the party off with some of his cousin’s “cripple.” As it got later more and more people showed up, still mostly Tourons and other kids from the Cut, but a few Kooks made an appearance. Tensions still ran high between Kooks and Pogues, but if beer and weed were offered, they were pretty much willing to put aside their differences. The sun began to set, while the party began to heat up. Someone had brought a speaker and was blasting some obnoxious club mixes; people were dancing. 

Sarah made her way over to the fire where Kiara was beginning to relax thanks to the joint in her hand. She’d had a few drinks at this point and was pleasantly buzzed. She tried to take the joint from Kiara but was pushed away. “You puke when you’re crossfaded, Sar!” 

“I do not! Besides, I’m not even drunk.”

Kiara just laughed. Sarah plopped down next to her best friend and wrapped her arm around her. “I’m gonna miss you, Kie.”

“I’ll miss you, too. But don’t get emotional on me. Tonight we’re just having fun!” Kie put out her joint and threw it in the fire. Someone walking by handed the girls another drink. 

“So,” Sarah wiggled her eyebrows and tugged on the sleeve of Kie’s - JJ’s - sweatshirt. “You and JJ?”

“Me and JJ, what?”

“Did you hook up?” Tipsy Sarah was even blunter and to the point than sober Sarah. 

“God, no!” Kie couldn’t tell if the blood rushing to her face was due to the alcohol, the fire, or something else. “Why would you think that?”

“You’re wearing his clothes!”

“I’ve stolen clothes from all the guys, including your boyfriend! It doesn’t mean anything.”

Sarah hummed, half in disbelief. She decided not to fully change the subject. “Have you asked him yet?”

“Mm?” Kie hummed. “Oh… no. I don’t think he’ll want to go.” When Kie had realized JJ would be the only Pogue left in the Outer Banks this fall, she’d decided to ask him if he wanted to join her in Europe. She knew he had talked a big game about running away to Yucatan at sixteen, and perhaps he’d like to see a bit of the world. It’s not like they were strapped for cash, or he really needed his job at the auto shop. Even though they’d had to turn over most of the gold when John B and Sarah brought it back from the Bahamas, the crew had managed to hide enough of it away that they were pretty much set. The jobs they held were more for appearances, and so their parents didn’t ask too many questions. 

“Of course he’ll want to go! Even if he doesn’t, worst-case scenario is he says no, and you go alone like you were already planning.” Sarah watched as Kie started chewing on her lower lip like she did when she was anxious. “Unless you don’t want to go alone?”

Kiara didn’t want to admit it, but she really didn’t want to travel by herself. She could take care of herself just fine and she enjoyed her alone time, but she’d never left the country before, and the thought of being so far from home with no one familiar around was starting to worry her. Just a little bit. She downed another beer and reached for another joint, saying lightly, “No I’m totally fine!”

“She says as she gets totally smashed,” Sarah muttered under her breath. Kie had gotten up and dragged a random Touron girl to dance with her. 

Kiara’s tolerance was pretty high when it came to intoxicating substances, she rivaled JJ, though he wouldn’t admit it. By the time Sarah had joined her she was quite relaxed, so when she’d decided to dance she was well on her way to wasted, the combination of weed and beer making her a little dizzy. As she spun around with the pretty redhead in front of her, she caught sight of JJ standing way too close to a girl who was obviously there with her boyfriend. Kie fought the urge to roll her eyes until she noticed the boyfriend was equally fascinated with whatever bullshit JJ was spilling. She laughed to herself; leave it to JJ to flirt with a girl and get her boyfriend thrown in the mix, too. Somehow the thought of JJ flirting with someone else bothered her, but she chalked it up to the anxiety of asking him to go traveling with her. She called out for more beer. 

JJ was having an alright time. He’d drank much less than he normally did, and he hadn’t even touched the joint in his pocket. The party he had been so excited for was setting him on edge for a reason he couldn’t quite place. His mind kept wandering back to the ride over to the Boneyard, with Kiara clinging to his waist as he took the backroads on his bike... There was a cute Touron girl talking to him and he allowed himself to flirt back until she introduced him to her boyfriend. He was always wary of boyfriends, and for once he really didn’t want to start a fight, so it was surprising when the boyfriend started flirting back. Shit. JJ thought and tried to back the hell out of that situation, a situation he normally would have been dying to jump into. He was two seconds from bolting just to get away from them, when Pope stumbled up, crashing into him drunkenly. 

“Dude, you’re wasted!” JJ chuckled gratefully, pulling his less-than-sober friend away from the Tourons. “How much have you had to drink?” 

“Enough,” Pope laughed. He was a happy drunk, though JJ could tell he was a moment away from puking. He steered Pope towards the cooler full of non-alcoholic drinks and fished out a water bottle. “Drink all of it,” he demanded. 

Pope complied, first saying, “Kie’s dancing.” JJ had already noticed, of course. The pretty redheaded girl he didn’t recognize had her arms around Kie’s waist and they were passing drinks back and forth, neither of them anywhere near sober. Even drunk, Kie’s dancing was amazing. And she didn’t care who danced with her, she was always looking for a partner. Part of JJ wished he had been closer to her, and maybe she would have pulled him into the dance instead of the other girl. He was pulled away from the scene by the sound of Pope losing his entire dinner. “Shit,” Pope groaned. “I think I’m sticking with Coke for the rest of the night.”

“You do that, man,” JJ laughed. 

The party wore on, but JJ stayed near Pope, making sure he wouldn’t pass out or anything. A nervous-looking girl wandered over, she was obviously not drinking and seemed rather uncomfortable with the whole situation. Pope asked her where she was from and she awkwardly explained that she was here with her sister, who had disappeared. To JJ’s surprise, Pope easily struck up a conversation with the girl, and she actually seemed interested in the crap he usually talked about - dead bodies and such. She actually knew a fair amount about forensics, studied it for a year or something. JJ decided to leave the two of them to their weird fascination with cadavers. He caught sight of Kie again, still with the redhead girl, though not really dancing anymore as much as stumbling aimlessly and laughing obnoxiously. JJ couldn’t remember the last time he had seen her that drunk. 

Kiara saw JJ standing at the edge of the group of teens dancing. “JJ!” She cried wildly. She tugged the girl she was with along, “This is my bes’ frien’, you hafta meet him.” As she got closer, she waved, “J - JJ! Hi!”

She fell into him. He pulled her upright, saying, “Hey, Kie.”

“JJ! This is my friend! She’s so pretty. She’s..shit, wha’s your name?”

“Leah,” the girl giggled, in a North Carolina accent. She was as drunk as Kie. “OMG, y’all are too cute! She hasn’t stopped talking about you all night! I kinda thought I’d get to take her home with me, but not with you hangin’ around…” She trailed off with a boisterous laugh. She pulled a pen out of her pocket, grabbed Kiara’s arm, and started scribbling a phone number. “If you ever get bored with him, text me!”

“She’s so nice,” Kiara gushed. “So pretty. Her hair looks like the sunset, and she danced ama-amazing. Amazingly? Do you say amazing or amazingly? She smelled nice, too. Like strawberries.”

“Kie, how much have you had to drink?” Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes unfocused, her speech slurring more by the second. 

“Dunno…” she whispered, too loudly. JJ took her arm and moved to lead her away from the crowd, back to where Pope was still chatting with his new friend, but she pushed him away. “Can do it myself!” She said belligerently, taking a few faltering steps, and promptly tripping over a stray piece of driftwood and falling hard into the sand. She laid in a crumpled heap, not bothering to move.

JJ rushed to her side, cursing himself for letting her get this bad. He made her sit up, and asked, “Did you hurt yourself?”

Kie nodded tears filling her eyes. She didn’t cry over injuries, so it was either the alcohol in her system, or she’d actually gotten pretty hurt. She put a hand to the side of her head, and JJ noticed a thin line of blood running in between her fingers. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said. “Let me see.” She’d hit her head on the driftwood as she fell, and though the scrape didn’t look too bad, head wounds did bleed a lot; he just hoped she hadn’t given herself a concussion. “Okay,” he continued. “That’s not so bad. C’mere, let’s clean you up.”

He steadied her as she struggled to her feet, but as soon as she took a step, she cried out. She sank back down to the ground this time clutching her foot. “Fuck,” she muttered. “Think I fucked up my ankle, too.” She’d moved past the happy-friendly-drunk stage, and was headed into angry-drunk territory, or maybe sad-drunk, neither of which JJ wanted to experience at that moment. He knelt to examine her foot, sliding her now-broken sandal off and prodding her ankle. He carefully wiggled her toes and twisted her ankle in various directions, checking for a break. 

“Not broken,” he said finally. “Maybe sprained.”

“Fuck,” she growled - definitely into angry-drunk territory, now. 

“I’m going to take you home-“ JJ started.

“No!” At this, the tears spilled over and down Kie’s cheeks, maybe sad-drunk after all. “No, I’m fucking shitfaced and my parents are going to kill me, especially after being late to work today…”

“Okay, okay. Wanna go to the Chateau instead?”

She nodded, tears still falling, her breathing erratic.

JJ managed to grab a water from the cooler and let Pope know what had happened. The harder task was convincing Kiara to drink the water before they took off on his bike. He would have preferred to take the van, but John B was nowhere to be found, and neither was Sarah. They were probably off getting into trouble somewhere. The bike ride back to the Chateau was surprisingly nice, Kiara still retaining enough sense to cling to JJ’s shirt, even if her balance was off. Once they pulled up to the door, JJ reached to help her dismount. “I can- I can do it myself!” She said.

“That’s what you said before you fucking concussed yourself, Carerra.” He lifted her off the bike easily and tried to set her on the ground, but her eyes fluttered closed and she leaned into him.

“You smell nice,” she muttered.

“Sheesh, Kie, if you wanted to cuddle, you could have just asked. Didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

They’d barely made it to the Chateau’s bathroom when Kie groaned, “Gonna puke.” JJ held her hair as she knelt in front of the toilet.

“Did you mix, Kie?” He asked surprisingly gently. 

She nodded, catching her breath.

“You know better than that.” 

She nodded again. 

“That first-aid kit is still around here, right?”

Kie groaned in response resting her head against the toilet bowl. JJ continued rummaging in the cabinet, before finding a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a small first-aid kit. The cut on her head had almost stopped bleeding, so he started there, wiping it clean with peroxide. He handed her a wad of gauze and guided her hand to hold it to her head. “Hold this,” he said, as her hand started to drop. He placed her hand back on her head. “Hold this here. I’m getting ice.”

JJ returned with two bags of ice, one of which he placed on her rapidly swelling ankle. The other was for her head. He found antiseptic and a large bandage for her head. “How’d you get so good at this?” Kiara slurred.

“Practice,” he said with a grimace.

“Shit… sorry.” JJ hadn’t seen his dad in over a year at this point, but he still had a hard time talking about the things he experienced. Both Pope and Kie had tried to convince him to talk to a professional about his problems without much luck. Still, he had come a long way. 

Once JJ had helped Kie clean up her injuries, he left her to take a shower. She noticed the redhead’s - Leah’s - phone number on her arm, and rolled her eyes with embarrassment; she set about scrubbing it off. When she stepped out of the shower, she saw he had left her a pair of his sweatpants and a t-shirt. She found some toothpaste and fumbled through brushing her teeth with her finger while inspecting herself in the mirror. Her eyes were red-rimmed and glassy, there was a massive bandage on the side of her head, and she was nowhere near sober, so some improvement was needed. Maybe sleep would help. She limped into the living room, her still wet hair dampening the back of the t-shirt and making her shiver. She flopped onto the pull-out, and almost dozed off. 

JJ shook her leg, “Hey, Kie, you hit your head, you can’t sleep yet.”

She groaned as she sat up, “Dammit, Maybank.”

“You’re the one who decided to get totally shitfaced! Tea?” He handed her a hot cup of mint tea.

“Since when do y’all keep tea in this place?” She was grateful for the warmth, the mint soothing her dehydrated throat, and relaxing her.

“Since Sarah.” JJ made a face that, even drunk, Kie knew he didn’t really mean. He climbed onto the pull-out next to her, and she leaned into him, her head on his shoulder. 

“It’s gonna be weird without them…” Kie said, trying to keep her eyes open. 

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll finally get some damn peace and quiet around here,” he said lightly. 

“You won’t get lonely?” Kiara hadn’t meant to shift to that particular topic of conversation, but she was drunk enough she didn’t care. 

“Probably will,” JJ was surprised at his own honesty, but then again, Kiara was so far gone, she probably wouldn’t remember this conversation. 

“Come with me,” she said suddenly, sitting up. 

“What?” JJ laughed nervously.

“To Europe. Come with me.” The words were just spilling out, now. Kie could feel her cheeks burning and decided to blame it on the alcohol, and maybe the tea. “The Outer Banks will always be here when we get back, so why not see the world with me?”

“Kie, you’re drunk,” JJ said slowly. “And you’re hurt, and you’re tired. You don’t really want me to come with you. I’d fuck up all your plans.”

“No, no you wouldn’t!” She made sure to set her cup of tea on the floor, despite the fact she almost fell off the pull-out doing so. Sitting on her knees, she leaned toward him, “JJ, I’ve been wanting to ask you this for a while. I think you’d have fun, and I can’t stand the thought of you staying here alone!”

“Kiara, it’s a really bad idea. Imagine how much damage I could do in another country,” he laughed, though his voice was tight.

“That’s why we’d go together. To keep each other out of trouble and patch each other up when we do get scraped up. We’d have each other.” She was leaning over him now, her face inches from him. 

“Kie, you’re drunk-“ he started again. She closed the last few inches left, and pressed her lips to his, sloppily.

He pushed her away and jumped up. “No,” he said firmly. He started pacing, “Damnit, Carerra, you’re the one always going on about consent, and you’re fucking wasted right now, and do you know how long I’ve been waiting for that-“ he cut himself off. “Fuck! I wish you were sober right now!” 

He took off then, out the back door onto the porch. Through the window, Kie watched him fish a joint out of his pocket along with his lighter. He shakily ran his fingers through his hair and flopped down to sit on the stairs, staring out across the sound. 

Kiara blinked furiously, tears of anger, sadness, embarrassment threatening to spill over. She was not sober, she knew, but she wasn’t that drunk either. The shower and tea had gone a long way to sobering her up. Granted, she probably shouldn’t have relied on the alcohol to get her through that conversation. And kissing him? God, what was I thinking?!

Wiping her eyes, she grabbed the quilt off the pull-out, made another cup of tea, and made her way out to the deck. It was slow going, with her sprained ankle and all, but in a moment she was easing herself down to sit next to JJ. She wrapped the quilt around their shoulders and handed him one of the mugs of tea. She leaned into his side, setting her chin on his shoulder. He tensed but didn’t pull away. 

“Kie-“ he started.

“No, I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have… I am drunk.” 

They sat in silence for a few moments. Between the tea and the joint, JJ had started to unwind. Kie was getting sleepy, each time she blinked her eyes stayed closed for a little longer. “Can we talk about it tomorrow?” She murmured.

“Sure, Kie.” He wrapped his arm around her then. “Yeah, we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

***

Kiara woke up in JJ’s bed, again. She didn’t remember going to bed or falling asleep, honestly, she didn’t remember going inside at all. The last thing she remembered was the smell of JJ’s shirt, saltwater and bonfire, and weed and dozing off on the porch stairs. She was still wrapped in the quilt from the pull-out, now. Her head and ankle were throbbing, but there was a bottle of painkillers and a glass of water on the nightstand, which she took advantage of. JJ was nowhere to be seen, and the rest of the house was quiet; she wondered if any of the other Pogues had even bothered to come home the night before. On occasion, when a party got really out of hand, they would just crash in the van until they could drive again. As Kie made her way into the kitchen, her suspicions were confirmed, it was still just her and JJ. She smelled coffee. 

“Mornin’,” she said softly. JJ was leaning against the counter, a cup of coffee in one hand, a cigarette in the other. She poured herself a cup of coffee and pulled herself up onto the counter. 

“You sleep well?” JJ asked. 

She nodded.

“Headache?” 

Again, she nodded, then laughed, “This is so fucking domestic, who are we?”

The silence that followed was awkward. Kiara finally broke it, “Listen, about last night…”

“Kiara, I don’t want to-“

“We have to talk about it, J. I’d rather get it over with.” He sighed and gestured for her to continue. 

“Okay,” she began. “I didn’t ask you to come with me to Europe because I was drunk. If I’m honest with myself, I got so drunk because I was nervous to ask you to come with me.”

“Why were you nervous?” JJ hated how small his voice sounded.

“Um, I guess I didn’t want you to say no. I’m kinda nervous to travel by myself and be away from the Pogues for so long.”

“Oh, and I’m the only one without plans, so I’m the only one left to ask.” There was no malice in his voice. It was just a fact.

“No, you were actually my first choice,” she held eye contact with him, willing herself to feel more confident. “Regardless of the others’ plans, I wanted to ask you.”

“Why me, Kie?” He’d put out the cigarette and set down his coffee cup.

She took a deep breath and decided to be honest with him and with herself, for the first time. “Because you’re my best friend, and I can’t stand that I won’t see you for months if I go alone. Because you’re the kindest person I know, despite everything you’ve been through. Because I was so fucking jealous last night when I saw you talking to other people that I got absolutely shitfaced and tried to make you jealous, too, but even then you weren’t, and you were still nice to me. Because when I made a total fool of myself and busted my ass you took care of me. Because even though I made things totally awkward you were still sweet and even carried me to bed, I think, I mean who does that-“

“Kie…”

She continued, “Because even though I waited until I was drunk to kiss you, I’ve been wanting to do that for a fucking long time-“

In two steps, JJ had crossed the kitchen to her and grabbed her face in his hands. He captured her lips with his, almost desperately. When they broke apart, he said, “Kiara, I’ve loved you since we were thirteen.”

“You’ve got me beat, Maybank. I’ve loved you since we were sixteen.” They both chuckled. “What took you so damn long?” She asked.

“Me? What about you? And your stupid, ‘no macking on other Pogues’ rule?”

“Fuck that rule,” she said and pulled him back to her for another kiss. 

“Now that I’m pretty much sober, and only slightly hungover,” she said. “Will you please come with me to Europe?”

“Well, since you’re sober…” he said gently. “I’ll follow you anywhere, Kiara.”

For JJ, August was still full of gold and light and sunsets and new beginnings, and now that he had Kiara, it probably always would be. The Outer Banks and the Pogues would all be there when they returned.

[queenxxxsupreme]

Company

A/N: I hope you like this one @wayward-dream

Warning: none for this:)

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Geralt ditches a ball to find you. I suck at summaries

The castle buzzed with excitement. Geralt of Rivia had just taken out the pack of ghouls terrorizing the town, and now with the monsters gone, the Duke and Dutchess of Tardide decided to throw a celebration to thank the witcher.

You'd been given the task of making sure the White Wolf was presentable for the Duke and Duchess. All the other maids had scattered the second anyone mentioned the large brute would need a maid for the night. They were scared of him, fearful of the stories they'd heard. You, however, weren't afraid. They were just stories. Most men never lived up to the stories told about them.

Though you insisted that you weren't scared of the being, your heart was racing as you approached the door to his quarters. You carried in your arms an outfit for him for the night, one more suitable for a feast than the clothes he'd probably choose to wear.

You lifted your hand up but before you could knock, the door was being pulled open. The man before you was tall with broad shoulders and well defined muscles in his arms and his torso. He wasn't wearing a shirt. Your eyes briefly looked over his scarred abdomen, taking note of the deep gash just below his right ribcage and another across his right bicep. There were a dozen or more other little cuts across his skin, followed by bruises and signs of his fight the day before.

Your eyes came back up to his face. That's when you realized you'd been staring and he was just watching you with amber eyes.

"I am Y/N. I'll be your maid for the night."

"I don't need a maid." He grunted out, his voice low and deep. He started to shut the door on you but you put your hand up to stop him.

"I didn't ask you if you did or not. I've been given orders to make sure you look presentable for the Duke and Duchess." You paused for a moment to guage his reaction. He looked down at you, his brows drawn together ever so slightly. When he said nothing, you continued. "I'm not asking that you let me dress you like you're a child. I'm only asking that you let me tend to those wounds and make sure you're dressed properly before you are taken to the ballroom. If you don't, I can assure you the Duke will probably have my head. He's itching for an excuse to get rid of me."

He glanced down to eye the gashes on his body. He was sore and didn't really care about the cuts. They were pretty much healed.

He grunted out a reply, opening the door wide enough for you to come in. You stepped in, holding his gaze as you passed him.

"Thank you."

"Did you do something to get on the Duke's bad side?" Geralt closed the door behind you. You crossed the room to place his outfit on the bed.

"You could say that." You brushed your hand over the material to the pants, straightening the cloth out. "I don't very much appreciate his soldiers thinking it's okay to make inappropriate comments about me or my servants. I also don't react well to being groped like the town's whore. The Duke doesn't like the thought of a little servant putting a knife through one of his precious soldiers."

You let out a soft sigh, turning to face the witcher. He still stood by the door, silently studying you.

"You killed a man?" It was hard of Geralt to believe someone like you would take a life.

"I didn't come here to discuss my history. I came to ensure you were well put together for the feast." You moved across the room pass him and opened the door. You told one of the servants passing by that you needed bandages and a bowl of water. You turned back to the witcher and gestured for him to take a seat on the chest at the foot of the bed. "But to answer your question, no. I didn't kill him. Just maimed the bastard."

You went back to the side of the bed his outfit was on and inspected it just a little more. You were curious to see how the colors worked with him. The Duchess herself picked the royal blue top.

"Maids are usually killed for such acts. Why aren't you dead?"

"The Duchess is particularly fond of me. In her eyes, I'm one of the maids who gets shit done around the castle. And she likes my garden."

There was a knock on the door before it opened. Matilia, a timid and quiet maid you'd worked with before, stepped in. She held bandages tucked under one arm and carried a bowl of water.

"Hello, Y/N."

"Matilia." You greet her with a nod and little smile. "Place them down on the dresser, would you, darling? Thank you."

The servant did as told before scurrying out of the room.

"Are you a head servant?" Geralt turned his head to watch you. You moved to the dresser to get a cloth wet with the arm what.

"Gods no." You almost laughed at the idea. "I've just been here long enough and I stand up for them. The other girls aren't as blessed as I am to be one of the Duchess' favorites. I use it to my advantage for them."

You moved to stand next to the man. Even though he was sitting, he was still almost as tall as you. You reached out to cup his jaw with one hand. He grunted his disapproval of the physical contact, leaning back just a little so he could carefully watch your hands.

"I just want to clean your face." Your voice was a quiet murmur. "I think you've still got ghoul blood on you from yesterday."

He didn't buy your words but he allowed you to do so. You held his face with one hand and with the other, you held a damp rag. You brushed the cloth over his skin like he was delicate. While you did this, you took the chance to study his face. There were a few little scars that littered his skin. One next to his right eye stood out more than the others. It was bigger. His amber eyes watched you like a hawk. He didn't trust you.

"You aren't a mage, but there's magic in you."

"Yes." You affirmed his statement. You moved across the room to dunk the cloth into the water then wring it out. "I'm not sure what you'd call it, but I've been able to do it since I was a little girl. I could bring plants back to life, heal them from a bitter winter frost or even from a fire. That's why the Duchess keeps me around. She loves the garden."

Geralt was silent. You glanced over your shoulder to him, your fingers squeezed the excess water out of the cloth.

"You're a quiet one, Geralt of Rivia." You moved on to the wound on his chest. It was nearly healed already but you wanted to be thorough. "Quiet ones make for dull conversation." You glanced up at him through your lashes. Just as he had been since you stepped foot in the room, he watched you.

"Are you saying I'm dull?" He raised his brows just slightly. You could hear the very faint teasing tone in his husky voice.

"Me calling the White Wolf dull?" You teased just slightly, a smile tugging at your lips. "Never. I'm only saying that I wouldn't mind if you spoke a little more."

He grunted in response.

"Often times, I get told that I talk too much. If I am annoying you, just say something."

"You aren't annoying."

You grinned slightly.

"Alright, Mr. Witcher." You put the rag in the bowl of water and turned to him, clasping your hands behind your back. "While you change your clothes, I'll step out into the hallway. If you need anything, I’ll be right outside the door.”

He nodded his head once. 

You left the room, closing the door behind yourself. There was a group of servants gathered just down the hall, whispering and looking in your direction. You paid them no mind. You were used to this behavior. Your fellow maids often talked about you behind your back. You were different than them. 

“How is the witcher behaving for you, Y/N?” One maid that you didn’t like in particular, Adelina, approached you.

“Good evening, Adelina.” You smoothed out your skirt. “Have you come here just to taunt me or were you sent?”

“I just came to check on our dear friend.” 

The three girls behind her snickered like she’d said something funny. 

“I wanted to make sure the Butcher of Blaviken didn’t cause you any harm.”

“Why don’t you just fuck off, Adelina?” You suggested. Just then, the door behind you opened. You didn’t have to turn around to know that Geralt was looking at the girls with that cold, emotionless gaze of his. The maids paled under his amber eyes.

Adelina turned and led the way down the hallway. The other maids followed her like dogs. 

“Were those your friends?” 

You weren’t sure if Geralt was joking.

“Most definitely not.” You let out a sigh as you turned to face the witcher. The black pants fit him well and the deep royal blue top held on to his broad shoulders snuggly. “The Duchess was right. Blue would suit you.”

He grunted in reply. Your eyes trailed back up to his silvery locks, which were a little disheveled. 

“Now for your hair.”

“My hair?” He repeated.

“Yes. Come along.” You ushered him back into the room. 

***

Being that Geralt was nearly a head higher than you, he had to sit on the chest at the foot of the bed in order for you to be able to properly reach his hair. He didn’t like the fact that you were even touching his hair, but you were being gentle with him. You were carefully not to pull the comb through too hard or tug at his hair carelessly. 

“What are you doing?” He turned his head to the side in an attempt to look in the mirror to his right. He wanted to see what you were doing. It was taking you longer to do his hair than it should’ve. 

“Hold still. I don’t want to make it crooked.” Your fingers easily carded through his hair as you braided half of it back so it would stay out of his face. 

He grunted.

“Tell me, Mr. Witcher.” You hummed quietly. “Do you prefer to be quiet and grunt your displeasure? Or do you just not like to talk?”

He said nothing for a while. You thought maybe he wouldn’t answer your question.

“Why do you care?” He turned his head to look over his shoulder but you turned his head back so he looked straight ahead. 

“Because I like to hear your voice.” You shrugged one of your shoulders. “I just think it’s a waste that such a handsome voice isn’t heard that often.”

“I’ve learned that not everyone is as willing to hear me talk as you are. To them, I’m no more than a means to get rid of a monster.”

“To hell with everyone who doesn’t view you as a person.” You sighed out, shaking your head softly. “They’re lucky to even be breathing the same air as you.”

He grunted, almost wanting to laugh at your words. You finished the braid and tied his hair into place. 

“There we go, Mr. Witcher.” 

“You don’t have to call me that.” He pushed himself to his feet and went over to the mirror. You stood just behind him, studying his reflection in the mirror. He was beautiful in the same was a lion was beautiful. They were dangerous creatures but there was something about them that made them breathtaking. “I look like an idiot.”

“Hardly.” You shook your head. “I think you look very handsome. You still look a little rugged but put together.”

He grunted and messed with the sleeve of the shirt. 

A knock on the door made you sigh. Your time with the witcher was over. 

“That is my cue to leave.” You started to move towards the door. “There will be a servant to take you to the ballroom.”

Geralt watched you move towards the door. You stopped just shy of reaching the door and turned to him, a little smile playing on your lips. 

“It was a pleasure, Geralt of Rivia.”

He held your gaze. You knew he’d say nothing so you pulled the door open and left.

***

Any event involving royalty made Geralt uneasy. He didn’t like dealing with the privileged families. He’d spent the better half of an hour sitting with the Duke and Duchess, his eyes flighting around the room. He searched every maid that passed, silently hoping one of them would be you. You fascinated him. He’d never come across someone who was so blunt but kind. You weren’t scared of him either. You didn’t cower when he looked at you. 

When he had enough of the nobility and the party music, he decided to set off on finding you. Surely you’d be much better company than anyone else in the ballroom. 

He found you outside in the garden. The moonlight lit most of the area but there were torches lit around the four corners of the garden. You were in a simple dark gray dress with off the shoulder sleeves. Your hair was left in a long braid over your shoulder. 

He moved to stand at the entrance to the garden. He leaned against one of the stone pillars holding a torch. You were on your knees next to a witch-alder shrub. Your fingers moved ever so slightly. A hazy gray substance left your palm and fingertips. As the substance touched the plant, pink flowers began to bloom. 

When you finished with the shrub, you stood up started to move around the garden. Your eyes briefly caught something out of place. You looked up to see Geralt standing at the entrance to the garden.

“You’re suppose to be at your party, Mr. Witcher.”

“I don’t like parties.” He grumbled. “I find that I’d much rather have your company than anyone else’s in that dreadful place.”

You almost laughed. 

“My company isn’t that exciting.” 

“I find that loud nobles make for terrible company, but talkative maids are much better.”

Was he flirting with you? 

Your cheeks tingled as you looked down, your fingertips ghosting over a rose bush.

“Come in, Mr. Witcher. I’ll show you around my garden.” You offered, motioning for him to join your side. 

He walked alongside you as you moved aimlessly through the garden. You were making conversation but he found himself not listening out of habit. He was good at just naturally tuning everyone out. What he did pay attention to was how you’d brush your fingers along any plant you passed. Even after you moved away, the plants still seemed to grow. 

Geralt felt eyes on him. He was used to it, but he still liked to know exactly who was watching him. He looked around and caught a group of women standing just outside of the garden, whispering and looking at you both. 

“Don’t mind them, Geralt.” Hearing you say his name pulled his attention back to you. 

“I’m used to the staring.”

“Me too.” You sighed gently. “I guess we make quite the duo. The witcher and the witch who is not a witch.”

Geralt looked over to you, amber eyes carefully studying you as you stared blankly ahead.

“Oh, how I wish I could run away.” A little smile came to your lips at the thought. “To run away and never look back.” You turned your head to meet his gaze. “Is the continent exciting?”

“You could put it that way.”

“It has to be better than this awful place.” You came to a stop at the opposite end of the garden and turned to look at the palace. “I’ve never known anything outside of Tardide. But oh how I’d love to travel.”

“Then why don’t you leave?” 

“I am a woman. The most I have is the ability to make flowers bloom and a little sword training from my grandmother. I wouldn’t last a week out there.” You hummed. “When you leave in the morning, will you return?” 

Your eyes flickered up to meet his amber ones. He held your gaze for a few silent heartbeats before he moved away from you, traveling down the path you two had just been on.

“No.”

“That sounds lovely. Perhaps we will meet again.” You took a seat on a bench and motioned for him to join you. “Not here, of course, but elsewhere.”

“I wound’t mind that.” 

You smiled softly, your eyes finding the bright moon overhead. You leaned over and rested your head on his shoulder. 

A/N: I'm thinking of making a taglist for Geralt. If you want to be added to my taglist for Geralt fluff let me know. I'm hoping to do some NSFW shit too so let me know if you want to be on that list too. I'll tag you when I post new shit💕