#I'm kind of envisioning as someone who tries to play things off-pretends to be of a jokester

[aceghostsarchive]

2, 12, 22 and 32 from the fifty (more) rook questions pls!

Thank you for sending these in! I had fun diving into some of the scenes.

fifty (more) questions for rook

A scene from Rook’s year with Varric and Lace:

“Aren’t you a good boy?” Zalan praises, scratching the chestnut mabari behind his ear. He confidently barks, sticking his chest out proudly; He is a good boy. Behind them, someone giggles. “Didn’t know you were such a fan of mabari,” Harding says, as Zalan stands up. The mabari leans against their leg, begging for more pets, and Zalan rubs his head. “They’re good dogs. I know a few wardens at Weisshaupt who had them.” Dogs were loyal, faithful creatures, but mabaris were different. The ones they met at Weisshaupt were utterly loyal and devoted to their owners; always by their side through thick and thin. It wasn’t unheard of for a mabari to follow their warden into the deep roads when the calling came. “I always wanted one since I was a kid.” Kind of like the Hero of Ferelden or other wardens of legend.

“Really?” Zalan nods as Harding asks, “How come you never had one? Was it because of the circle? Zalan tenses; an adopted qunari in the Anderfels was definitely not going to have a mabari. It would have drawn too much attention, and they already drew too much attention as a lone qunari, trying to hide their magic. The mabari gently nudges his head against Zalan’s hand, and they swallow, playing off the bitter memory. “Couldn’t have one because it was too cold. I grew up in the mountains of the Anderfels; a mabari wouldn’t do well there.” The only dogs Zalan grew up around were livestock guardian dogs with thick fur so white that they almost seemed to blend into the snow. “And every time a mabari became available at Weisshaupt, I was out in the field. What about you? You're Ferelden; you must have had one.” Before she can answer, Varric steps out of the Tavern. “Got our next lead on Chuckles;” He smirks as his eyes settle on the mabari, “Recruiting a new team member, Rook?” Smirking back at Varric, they tease, “We already decided that he’s getting your bed roll and rations.” Varric laughs. “You sure about that? Seems like the type of dog to kick you out of your own bed roll.” The mabari barks affirmatively, and the three let out a laugh. “Come on, we have to go.” Zalan gives the mabari a final scratch behind the ear, “You be good, okay?” The mabari whines, almost as if he’s sad to see them go. As they follow Varric and Harding, Zalan casts one final backward glance towards the mabari, who wags his tail as he locks eyes with Zalan. “After we stop Solas,” Harding says, falling into step with Zalan, “You should come with me to Ferelden; we’ll get you a real mabari.” They break out into a wide grin. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

(That definitely doesn't hurt considering what happens to Harding in my playthrough. 😭)

An argument between Rook and their LI(s):

(Context: I imagine this takes place before Zalan and Emmrich actually get together.)

“Bellara, you think you can get that Artifact working?” She nods, a determined glint in her eye. “I can do it. Someone will need to distract the guardian; I won't be able to fix the artifact with it attacking.” That’s all Zalan needs to hear. “Emmrich, go with Bellara. You watch her back if anyone tries to sneak up on her while she’s fixing it.” “And you are?” Emmrich asks, a hint of anxiety in his voice. “Playing the distraction.” Not the first time they’ve played the distraction, and certainly not the last. As they go to vault themself over the wall, Emmrich grabs their right wrist, pulling them back down into a crouch. “Are you certain that’s the best course of action?” They’re touched by the concern in his voice, but this plan will work; Zalan knows it. If the large guardian is focused on them, it won’t be aiming for Bellara, and they can’t risk anyone getting to her while she’s working. “We should-.” “No,” Zalan replies curtly, “I can do this. Trust me.” Does he not trust them to do this? “It’s not a matter of trust, but rather getting yourself killed. You cannot face it on your-.” Bellara nervously cuts in. “Maybe-.” “We don’t have time for this.” Every second they waste is another chance for someone to get hurt, another dereliction of their duty. Slipping out of Emmrich’s grasp, Zalan commands, “Get ready to run for the artifact.” With that, they vault themself over the wall, running towards the guardian. They whistle sharply, fully gaining the guardian’s attention as it turns toward them. Hefting its battle axe, the guardian descends upon them. It swings, blade whistling in the air. Zalan’s spell orb crackles in their hand as they duck under the large blade. Please, please let Bellara succeed. Eventually, Bellara must succeed as they hear the artifact right itself with a loud pop. “Rook,” Bellara yells from behind, “we’ve got it-.” Zalan turns to face her, a rookie mistake, one they should know better than to make. Taking advantage of the distraction, the guardian swings its axe, catching Zalan in the side with the flat side of the blade, sending them flying. As they land a few feet away, someone screams their nickname, the sound of a fight resuming. A few moments later, the fight ends with Bellara and Emmrich rushing over to them. “I’m-,” a pained wheeze escapes Zalan as they get up onto their feet, “fine.” “We need to get you to the lighthouse-.” “What were you thinking? You could have gotten killed.” Emmrich sounds terrified. "You should have-." “Not the first time I’ve nearly gotten myself killed.” They had far too many close calls, far too many to be comfortable with. “But this might be the first time I’ve gotten lectured by someone so handsome.” Emmrich’s eyes widen, stunned by their shameless, perhaps inappropriate flirting. Bellara, wisely, chooses this moment to intervene. “Come on. Back to the lighthouse we go.”

(As always, Zalan picks the worst time to start flirting. I like to imagine quite a few of Zalan and Emmrich's arguments focus on Zalan's attempts to downplay the very real danger they face rather than acknowledging it.)

In Rook’s opinion, was the best meal Bellara prepared? And Lucanis?

Zalan really enjoyed the Tevinter Khachapuri that Bellara made. What can they say? They’re a sucker for cheese and bread.

Zalan is a fan of anything that Lucanis cooks. (It's always a good night when he cooks.) They always enjoy the desserts that he makes.

Did Rook uncover Solas’s memories? Any particular revelation shake them especially?

Yep. Zalan managed to find all the wolf statues and uncover all his memories. Solas's memories were certainly something, but the revelation about the Blight really shook them as a Grey Warden. All the destruction caused by the blight-families torn apart, lands inhabitable, lives destroyed-could have been avoided if Solas had stood up to Mythal and the Evanuris. Zalan knows they can't change the past, but they can stop Solas and the Evanuris, no matter what.

[cece693]

you wrote about the mad hatter so well... i don't want to overwhelm you, obviously, but i would love a 2nd part!! and maybe in the future you can write some smut scenario with him? 😶‍🌫️

You're Not Crazy Pt. 2 (The Mad Hatter x M! Reader)

Here's the second part :) I'm iffy on writing smut for the Hatter since he's so childlike and I think he wouldn't go that far with someone, he probably finds kissing pleasurable enough, but who knows. I'll probably end up doing it 🤷‍♀️

tags: angst, happy ending, the reader tries to say goodbye, mentions of Alice, the reader is an idiot, but redeems himself

The Hatter's words stung, but you couldn't stay with him. You didn’t belong to Wonderland, as much as you envisioned yourself adapting to the world. You didn’t share its whimsical madness, its strange logic that defied all reason. You loved its colors, its characters—especially him—but deep down, you felt like an outsider playing pretend in a place that wasn’t truly yours.

So, you left.

Back in the real world, everything felt strangely muted. The once-familiar streets seemed dull and lifeless, lacking the vibrancy of Wonderland. Your sister Alice noticed your somber mood almost immediately. She’d seen you come back looking tired or perplexed before, but never like this. It was as if the life was sucked out of you; You weren’t yourself. She knew something big must've happened to put you in such a state.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the room, Alice found you sitting by the window, staring off into the distance. She approached quietly, her voice soft. “You’ve been awfully quiet since you got back. What happened in Wonderland?"

You hesitated, the words sat heavily on your tongue, reluctant to be spoken. How could you even begin to describe what had transpired in Wonderland? The way the air had seemed to still when the Hatter looked at you with those wild eyes, the hurt lurking behind his laughter? But after a moment, you sighed and decided to open up, knowing Alice would pester you otherwise.

“The Hatter…he told me to leave. He said I should return home. So, I did.”

Alice watched you carefully, her brow furrowed with concern. “But why would he say that?” she asked softly. She knew the Hatter was eccentric and unpredictable, but she had seen how he looked at you, how his eyes lit up whenever you were near.

You shook your head, frustration mixing with the ache in your chest. “I don’t know.” you admitted, though it wasn’t entirely true. “I think…I think he was afraid. Afraid I’d leave on my own someday, find something more important than him.” Your voice wavered, and you clenched your fists to steady yourself. “He wanted to push me away before I could do it to him.”

Alice remained silent for a moment, her expression softening as she pieced together what you weren’t saying. “So, you just left because he told you to?” she asked, not accusingly but with a kind of gentle reproach. “Without telling him how you felt?”

You looked down, guilt settling like a stone in your stomach. “I thought it was what he wanted.” you murmured. “I didn’t want to hurt him more by staying. But leaving…it felt wrong, too. It still does.”

Alice reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You men and your pride,” she said with a soft chuckle. “You’re both acting like fools. You know that, right?”

“What do you mean?”

She smiled, patient and knowing. “I mean that sometimes, people say things they don’t mean because they’re scared of being hurt. The Hatter’s a complicated man, but he’s not so different from anyone else in that way. You need to go back and talk to him. Really talk to him. Otherwise, you’ll never know what could’ve been.”

Her words struck a chord deep within you, resonating with the doubts and hopes that had been churning inside you since you left. She was right—you couldn’t leave things like this, with both of you hiding behind unspoken fears. You had to face it, face him, and figure out what you truly wanted.

Returning to Wonderland was like stepping back into a dream, one that you’d missed desperately in your time away. The colors were brighter, the sounds sharper, yet everything felt strangely muted by the tension in your chest. As you made your way back to the tea party clearing, you could feel your heart pounding harder with every step, a mix of anxiety and anticipation.

When you arrived, you found the Hatter sitting at his usual spot at the head of the long, cluttered table. He was hunched over, a hat perched lopsided on his head, his fingers busy stitching a ribbon that looked like it was fraying at the ends. His back was to you, but the moment he heard your footsteps crunching on the gravel, he stiffened ever so slightly.

“I didn’t expect you back so soon,” he said, his tone light and airy, but you could hear the strain in it��like a string pulled too tight. “Come to say a proper goodbye?”

You took a deep breath, stepping closer, feeling the weight of the conversation pressing down on your shoulders. “Yes, but I want to do it right. I don't want to leave with things unresolved between us."

The Hatter turned to face you slowly, his usual mad grin stretching across his face, but it was different this time. His eyes, usually bright and wild, were shadowed, clouded with something you couldn’t quite place. “Well then,” he said, forcing a laugh that sounded more like a broken sigh, “goodbye it is! Off you go, then! Don’t let the rabbit hole hit you on the way out!”

Without thinking, you reached out and pulled him into a hug. His body went rigid at first, as if he didn’t know how to react. You could feel his rapid breaths against your chest, hear the hitch in his throat as he struggled to keep up the façade. Then, slowly, he softened, his arms coming up to clutch at your back, holding you as if you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground.

“Why are you doing this?” he whispered, his voice cracking, caught somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “Why are you making this so hard?”

“Because I don’t want to leave you,” you confessed, your voice thick with emotion. “But I don’t know how to stay when I feel like I don’t belong here.”

The Hatter pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “You do belong. To me, you do.”

His words pierced through you, breaking down the last of your defenses. You thought you had made up your mind to leave, to return to the real world where everything made sense, where things followed rules. But in that moment, nothing made sense without him.

You stepped back, letting go of him even though it hurt. “Goodbye, Hatter.” you said softly, turning away. “I’ll miss you.”

As you started up the path that would take you back home, every step felt like dragging a weight behind you. You reached the midway point, the fork in the path where one route would lead you back to reality. You paused, your heart aching with each second that passed. You glanced back, your breath catching in your throat when you saw him still standing there, watching you leave with a look of pure devastation.

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t leave him like this.

Turning on your heel, you sprinted back down the path, the wind whipping against your face as you ran. You didn’t stop until you were right in front of him again. His eyes widened in shock, his lips parting to ask something, but you didn’t give him the chance. You cupped his face in your hands and kissed him, pouring all the emotion you’d been holding back into that kiss—your fear, your love, your need to stay.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, he stared at you, his eyes wide and searching. “You…you came back?”

“I did,” you said, smiling through the tears in your eyes. “If you’ll have me. I’m not going anywhere.”

For a moment, he looked as if he didn’t believe you, his gaze darting over your face as if trying to find some hint of doubt or hesitation. But then his lips slowly curved into a smile—a real, genuine smile that lit up his entire face. “Oh, yes. Yes, indeed! And we shall have tea every day, and perhaps cake, and perhaps something more delightful!”

You laughed, a lightness settling over you that you hadn’t felt in days. “Sounds like a plan.”

[evelynlikesfrogs]

Signs everything I thought I knew was wrong

I needed to dump my thoughts and feelings somewhere because I feel like im annoying my support group. I think my egg finally cracked Wednesday and immediately I had to start researching and buying gender affirming things. Anyways, here's my list of signs that I wish I had seen like a decade ago, please be kind I'm very new to opening up like this

Another Girl in elementary threatened me with makeup and cross dressing and I wanted it bad.

I think this one is such a major factor in why I feel like this has to be real. Its well before puberty and well before I knew transitioning was a thing. Just a natural thought for someone who’s the wrong gender

Multiple times pleading with god to just make me a girl

Still cis tho obv

Thinking if I held still for long enough in bed, some sort of magic would make me a girl and fix this wrong body of mine

I still remember the dreams where im a girl, i legit became proficient at lucid dreaming just for it.

Ah fuck the egg_irl memes are hitting too hard

My favorite game character is Bridget, listening back to the song is hitting really hard actually

Legit had an anxiety attack and took a day off work because my transfem friend said “careful, i said the same thing before i came out”

Wishing i had magic to turn myself into a girl

Playing female characters just to feel cute

Putting on leggings in highschool, then sleeping in them

Some female mannerisms

Kinda hating my poor skin but couldnt do anything about it since thats only for women am i right fellas

Mild euphoria when someone says good girl

Envisioning myself as the girl during fantasies

Jealousy over a womans body

Ive never seen any man sit cross legged at a table the way i do, idk why that one pops up but i’ve seen plenty of other girls do it

Desire to steal womans clothing to cross dress

At current moment I have no desire to bite my nails because I want them to grow out, even though I was a nail biter for 27 years

In pre school, tried to convince another girl to swap clothes with me

In pre school, loved pretending i was at a hair salon and the other girls in the school would give me a haircut. It gave me ASMR

Speaking of ASMR, I like exclusively listen to makeup, nail and hair roleplays

Feeling like i dont want to transition because I could be ugly

After realization, I dont have nearly as much of an appetite, maybe subconscious bodily sabotage in the form of overeating

Not seeing any future when I tried to plan my life better, before I ever considered the option of becoming trans

Feeling hurt when my dad made somewhat transphobic comments about my trans cousin

Wondering what my parents would do if i woke up one day as a woman and had to explain that to them

Genuine euphoria at the idea of trying on womens clothing, but thinking that i was weird and kinky

Playing with stuffed animals with my best childhood friend, a fellow girl

Hating my balls

I bet it feels good to cry, its probably cathartic

Hating body hair god i hate this so much, I’m just bad at shaving it and dont want to be covered in razor burns and have to explain to coworkers why I shaved my legs and arms

Hating my nose

Adopting a super masculine persona

Forcing myself to have a much deeper voice to not feel any of my true feelings

Actually seeing a future after considering becoming trans

Being hurt by transphobic comments at work before I realized my egg status

Was I sending what they said to my friend because i was hurt by it and wanted reassurance?

When i started drawing again, i had no desire to draw “cool badass epic shit” i just wanted to draw super cosy watercolor paintings.

God damn it i’ll say it, I fucking love pastels. Both the art medium and the color spectrum

Repression of my desire to dance and sing, or I guess express myself in any format due to internalized transphobia

“Mens fashion is so lame, girls have it so good. Im cis tho”

Pure depression my entire adult life

Wanting genuine friend connections with women in a more feminine way

Never caring about going out and buying clothes because none of them worked for me

Trying to force myself to not look at girls clothes because “thats only what weirdos do”

On this topic, how the fuck did i think this shit was normal… i wasnt watching women or anything, its not like i was being creepy in reality. I just wanted to see the womens clothes. Why is that such a bad thing for someone to want

Being jealous of my friend since he was openly wearing his girlfriend’s sweatshirt

Dude i stared longingly at a pink gamer girl chair, still cis tho

Speaking of gamers, being super jealous of C9 Sneaky that he could pass so well and was totally fine with showing that whole side of himself online. Same with Finnster.

I think i hate my voice, ever since realizing this about myself i cant help but hear my voice and think its not me

Being afraid to see a therapist because im not sure honestly

Fearing crying, but that might not be internalized transphobia and actually just be a side product of the vice grip on masculinity in society

Daydreaming about becoming a girl

General body dysmorphia

I want to cry but i cant, why cant I cry why

[welcomingdisaster]

I finally chose two fics out of all of yours I absolutely love. So, (touch me) at the seams and fun& games for the directors cut?

OHOHO, thank you for this ask! touch me at the seams was my first foray into bdsm fic, which i absolutely adore writing now, and i think i wanted it to be an exploration of the dynamic! i thought a lot about the way the two of them would approach a bdsm relationship going in. i really liked the idea of steve being tactical and strategic and research minded and finding his own ways to surprise tony, who's more experienced than him. i also like tony not really being in touch with his own feelings!! i think in the fic he's very wound up -- he knows he wants things, but he's having trouble communicating to steve (and admitting to himself) what he wants and what he's afraid of. he's used to sex being an undiscussed territory, and i think he has a lot of difficulty communicating to steve what he's hoping to get out of it. when he tries to take control and then freaks out (& scares steve!) i think he's not actually sure what his issue was and what went wrong. i do think, after this fic, there's a point where tony tries domming again and it goes better for them. i think he'd work much better with a precisely negotiated scene than with steve totally giving him the reigns -- he's terrified of making this bad for steve, especially after the first time steve safewords out of it. fun & games is probably one of my favorite fics i've written. it's one of those that went off the rails a little bit. initially, it wasn't meant to be a 1:1 canon retelling, and it had much more of a focus on steve & tony playing games. steve also lost a lot on purpose, because the way i initially envisioned it in my head, it was steve finding excuses to put himself under tony's control more than tony finding excuses to mess with steve. "tony is the homophobic one" was not the initial premise/dynamic of the fic at all -- i imagined an openly bi tony messing with steve, who pretends to be disgruntled by the attention but actually keeps seeking it out. and then i started writing it from tony's point of view, and i realized the intricate rituals certainly went both ways, and the emotional core of the fic became a lot more focused on tony. i realizing i wanted him to be as unsure of his own motives as steve was, and i wanted steve to be a little more confident about what he wants. after all, he's the one losing on purpose, isn't he? and then i really love ults!tony's relationship with nat and the emotional fallout of all that, so that also found its way into the fic, and that's how we ended up with the finished product. some quick fun facts about the fic! - i imagine that two of my other ults fics, one true thing and liminal space, take place in the same continuity as fun and games. there is no actual direct connection between them, but the way they go is f&g -> oth -> ls, with the relationship becoming more domestic over time. also, i have a zine fic which i might be able to post some time soon (if the zine ships soon!) which would kind of be the final-ish part of that arc. it's sad. - i'm working on a remix where the drinking game  becomes a nat/tony/janet/steve foursome. foursomes are insanely hard to write. someone keeps ending up on the sidelines. :/ - this tony ties this steve up a lot :) - this steve eventually also ties this tony up a lot :)

[pug-bitch]

That's not why I'm going (2)

No harm in looking

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake Walker x Amara Suarez

Rating: Some language, otherwise PG

Word count: 1,586

Notes: I am delighted with the positive reactions I have gotten, thank you!!! Some of you told me that I should keep going with this story, so I decided to share a little more! So far it continues on the same chronology, on the private jet to Cordonia.

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

Once she was settled in her seat, opposite Maxwell and across the aisle from Drake, Amara gladly accepted the ice cold champagne flute that she was offered. It was still early in the morning, but she couldn’t see how she would be able to deal with her crazy decision without a bit of liquid courage in her veins. She was hoping that her broody jetmate would be kind enough to share his whiskey supply, but to no avail. Oh well, she would have to make do with some delicious champagne instead. What a hard life.

‘Woooooo Amara! I can’t believe you came!’

Drake visibly winces at Maxwell’s loudness. ‘Um Beaumont, could you take it down a notch? Some of us are hungover and don’t have this non-stop-party gene of yours, thank you.’

Maxwell ignores him, rolling his eyes before continuing his pep talk. ‘So A-Dawg, can I call you A-Dawg?' Amara opens her mouth to answer but Maxwell continues in his excited frenzy. 'Nevermind, I’ll stick with Amara for now. So Amara, are you excited? Did you have time to pack what you needed and say goodbye to your family and friends?’

‘Oh sure, I mean I don’t—‘ A buzz interrupts her. She looks at her phone, hesitates, then puts it face down. She couldn’t deal with him right now. She would call him later, once in Cordonia, but not yet. She notices Drake eyeing her phone, trying to make out who was calling. Huh, she thinks, he can play it cool as much as he wants, he still peeks at other people’s phones like a human. The buzz comes back a few times and then disappears. It will stop once they’re in the air, anyway.

‘Yeah sorry Maxwell, I did pack everything I could, but I’m not sure what I have is…fit for a royal court?’

‘No worries. I’ll arrange for an appointment at the boutique after you’re fully rested. And between you and me —and Drake, I guess—, judging by the way Liam was looking at you last night, you don’t need a ball gown to pique his interest…’

Amara offers a faint smile, because that’s all she’s got. What the hell was she thinking? Maxwell is counting on her to win the race to the prince’s hand or whatever —it didn’t stop sounding silly the more she thought about it—, and what was she doing? Giving him false hope. Sure, Liam is nice and good looking and probably smart, but she doesn’t envision this for herself. She doesn’t know what she envisions, but it certainly isn’t that life. She’ll have to tell Maxwell sometime, that she’s just an asshole who wanted an out, and took the first opportunity that presented itself and —dammit that phone, she should have put it on silent— and…ran with it, consequences be damned. She would have to tell Maxwell that, if he needs his house to win the round —what was this, Game of Thrones?—, he would have to bet on a different gal. Because all Amara was game for, was to get out of her life and get to know the fun people she had met last night. And Drake. Not that he wasn’t fun, but…maybe she was game for something else with him. Truth be told, last night was the first time in a very long time that she had not thought of the shitty things that surrounded her life. Because of these guys, because of one of them in particular, and the way he seemed to see her, she forgot for a second, and she didn’t want to remember just yet.

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After a couple of champagne flutes and some more conversation, both Amara and Maxwell enjoyed some beauty sleep while they were soaring across the Atlantic. Drake was bored. Sure, Maxwell annoys him, but he’s annoying like a puppy would be: relentless but entertaining. And now that the puppy is asleep, and that the beautiful stranger is too, he doesn’t know what to do. Well, he does know what to think about. What he hasn’t stopped thinking about since they took off. Who was calling her so many times? She put her phone face down after a while, but didn’t turn it off. It kept buzzing and buzzing, until they were in the air. Who was it? It could be anyone really, after all, what did they know about her? Well…Drake knew some things. Or maybe just sensed some things. But still. He knew she had a great laugh, especially when she’d had a few. He knew her middle name was Elena, and her last name Suarez, because it was written on the customs form she had filled out and left on the table. Right next to her phone. Which was still face down.

He knew she was funny. She made him laugh several times last night, and again today. Made HIM laugh, Drake Walker, who hasn’t really smiled much since his little sister disappeared without a trace. He knew Amara saw some sadness in him. When she tried to make him talk last night, he almost gave in a little, because she did it in such a smooth way, almost unnoticed. Maybe one day he would tell her why he doesn’t really like to partake in frivolous court parties. And not the bullshit version of the story, in which he pretends to be a manly macho man who doesn’t care for champagne because it has bubbles. No, she was too smart for that version, she wouldn’t buy it.

Ok, this is crazy, he met her last night and he is already envisioning himself sharing his deepest secrets with her? Get a grip, Walker. And dammit, the phone is just sitting there, no one would see if someone were to…

In any case, it could very well be her friends and family reacting to the news. The woman is up and leaving to go court a prince in Europe, and if Drake were her friend or her brother, he would definitely try to reason with her.

But there’s no harm in looking. Right?

Drake holds his breath while gently grabbing the phone and flipping it over. He feels silly. What the hell is he doing? Who does he think he is, a private detective?

9 missed calls. All from a Michael.

Enough. No more peeking. She’s entitled to her privacy, lord knows Drake cherishes his. Why did he look? It’s not his style to spy on people. Plus, now all he can think about is this Michael person, no last name.

Enough. He puts the phone down. Amara gasps for air, as if she had been holding her breath too. She looks around, panicked, probably wondering where she is.

‘Hey hey,’ whispers Drake, careful not to wake Maxwell. ‘It’s OK. You’re OK.’

She still looks like she’s seen a ghost. Drake puts a reassuring hand on her forearm, reiterating ‘You’re OK.’ She finally comes to, and whispers back ‘Oh wow, I lost grip for a second. I was having the…a bad dream. Sorry.’

Drake realizes his hand is still on her arm, and quickly removes it. Amara gives him a half smile. Without a word, he grabs his whiskey bottle and pours another shot into his tumbler. And a second one that he hands to Amara.

‘Finally,’ she says. ‘I thought you’d never share.’

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

She couldn’t believe she had had the dream again, not even on her first night away. During a nap! Apparently she couldn’t get away from her subconscious. Everything was so vivid. She could still hear the bang, and see him fall in front of her. It was not until Drake touched her arm that she realized it was all a dream. Well, not a dream. It all happened. It was just all over.

The whiskey pleasantly burning her throat, she closed her eyes again for a second, and so as to not wake up Maxwell, who was sleeping like a log, she slid into the seat opposite Drake.

‘So…why the American accent? You never answered my question last night.’

‘What makes you think I’ll answer it now?’

‘Well…’ she gives him a playful look. ‘You just shared your precious booze with me. I figured that’s an opening.’

‘Fair. My mom’s American. Texan.’

‘Oooh, a cowboy! Fancy.’

‘Heh. My mom’s family had a ranch and I spent a fair amount of time there as a kid.’

He falls quiet. It doesn’t bother Amara. She knows quiet. She holds his gaze and offers him a smile. Surprisingly, he’s the one to break the silence. ‘Your turn.’

‘My turn to what?’

‘To answer a question of mine.’

‘Oh. You have questions now?’

He raises an eyebrow and responds, a little too hastily, ‘Well, you’re going after my best friend, I’m just looking out for him.��

‘I’m not…’ She stops herself and regroups. She can’t show her cards too soon, not when they’ve not even landed yet. ‘Ask away.’

‘How long have you worked at the bar?’

‘Really? I give you a free question and that’s what you ask? Are you that obsessed with whiskey that all you care about is my bartending job?’

He looks at his drink and smirks. ‘Responding with not one, not two, but three questions, ladies and gentlemen.’

‘Alright, alright. You win. Two years.’

‘What did you do before that?’

‘Woah there cowboy. One question at a time. It’s your turn to respond to one of mine now.’

He stays silent, refilling her whiskey. Amara thanks him and carefully weighs her options. If she asks him something too deep, he’ll fire back with something deep too. So…

‘Where did you get your shirt?’

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

Taglist:

@andy-loves-corgis , @drakewalkerwhipped , @drakxwalker , @drakewalkerrosenberg , @drakeswalkers , @drakelover78 , @silviasutton1989 , @jovialyouthmusic , @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria , @mariahschoices , @drakesensworld , @thequeenofcronuts

Thank you for your encouragements, everyone! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)