#got the nicest comment on her earlier and i’m sat here crying about it

[gregmarriage]

if i said i’m thinking of adding to the crack the window ‘verse (proper series name pending), would people be into that?

[princessofprocrastination]

Nothing But Hatred (GeorgeNotFound)

MASTERLIST 

pairing : georgenotfound / george davidson x reader

summary : you had nothing but love for people, even strangers. so how could george hate you so much? 

a/n : long imagine? i owe you guys this. also, happy new years!

you were taught since young to love people. 

“you don’t know what they have gone through before.” your mum always reminded you whenever you would complain to her about someone. 

and since then, the quote stuck to you. it was planted in your head even more when she passed away. you couldn’t describe the pain to other people. 

your dad also left the earth soon after her, following suite. his last words to you in the hospital were “i know you can take care of yourself, i believe in you. always.” you just turned eighteen then. 

since you were a legal adult, the house was automatically yours. now, you’re twenty-one, and since then, you have moved out. 

you found yourself a decent sized house. born and raised in florida, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave the country, or state, that is. that’s just one thing you couldn’t bring yourself to do. 

you often forget that you’re on your own, no parents. born the only child, no siblings. and since you are a legal adult and everyone thinks you’re all good on your own, seeing that you have done many things on your own, your relatives don’t pry in your life. 

no, you weren’t lonely, if you say so yourself. you and dream, or clay, as you call him are best friends. literally platonic soulmates. you met him when you both are seventeen. he stayed with you through everything. 

when he started blowing up on social media, you were ecstatic. but you would often jokingly brag to him that you blew up way before he did. 

you didn’t understand why people watched you, if you were being honest. clay would say that it’s because of your charming and kind self that brought so many supportive people. you don’t agree. 

you never once pried in clay’s life. in social media and in real life. who’s his friends are his and you never would try to come across that. your friends and yours and his friends are his. simple. 

when clay blew up, no one knew that the two of you even knew each other, let alone best friends. they found that out weirdly. somehow they heard clay screaming in your kitchen when you were streaming. that clearly was a common occurrence for you since you barely even acknowledged it. 

yes, before anyone asks, there were shipping comments immediately after that. but, you two talked about it on stream, about how you two were nothing but amazing friends. but neither of you mind the ship comments. the fanarts have always been so incredible. 

being the biggest supporter of clay, or dream, you watched every single stream, video, liked posts of his, so you knew who his friends were. 

although you told clay that you didn’t want to pry into his life, he begged you to talk to his friends. you clicked so well with everyone. beside george. you didn’t understand it at first. whenever you’d watch his streams, he’d seem so nice and welcoming. 

but somehow, whenever you’d join in their discord or play in the dream smp, his tone would change drastically. 

after some time, you got the memo. he just didn’t like you. and you accepted that. not everyone would like you, so you backed off. you gave excuses to clay if george was present. 

you didn’t want to be the one interrupting his stream or be the cause of his mood change. so you stayed away, and so far, it had been better that way. 

you and clay were different in some ways. everyone is. but to be more specific, he made his money off of social media. and no, this wasn’t to say that he is below you. in fact, he was lucky that he got to do that. 

and this also didn’t meant that you couldn’t live off of your streaming money, you just rather do something other than social media. you wanted to make sure that if one day your social media career were to flop, you’d have a backup plan. 

but you didn’t want to put your degree to waste. your mum used to tell you all the time to study all while you are still young, so that you don’t regret it when you’re older. 

so that is what you did. you spent your years studying psychology, something you’ve always wanted to do. and in your free time, you’d stream or make videos. you didn’t tell that to the public, wanting that part of you to be private and away from social media. 

and one more thing, you never once brought up the loss of your parents to the public. you wanted people to like you for you, and not want them to like you for pity. hence, no one besides clay knew about your parents. 

and lucky for you, clay understood and no one had brought up any questions about your parents. they just knew you lived alone. 

you sat on clay’s bed, on your laptop, typing in important paperwork that had to be done from home. he invited you over. he told you he was lonely and that he needed the company. and in exchange of your company, he’d buy the both of you takeout for dinner. 

so you agreed. you told him that you being there would make no difference since you would be sat in the corner doing work anyways but he still begged you to come, saying that he didn’t mind it, that he just wanted you to be there. 

that is another common occurrence. there are days when he just needed someone to be there with him, in the same room. you never asked why but you enjoyed the company too, so you never bothered to know. 

as you sat on his bed typing, he was on his desk recording a minecraft hitmen video for his youtube with george, sapnap and badboyhalo. you could feel the nerves coming from him. 

he did need to pay his friends if he lost, after all. not that he cared about money but his ego was too big to lose now. 

you heard him bang his desk as he won, somehow by flying a boat. your best friend was a genius anyways, so you were not surprised that he did something new. 

now they were just talking on discord, you still typing on your laptop, unmoving from your spot on his bed. 

“you hungry?” clay asked you, to which you didn’t reply, since you were too focused into your work. he called your name another two times before you stopped typing and looked up at him. 

you shook your head, and pointed to your laptop, telling him that you just wanted to get this done before the two of you ate. he continued talking to his friends after that. 

“yeah she’s here. i just needed the company.” you heard him say. you knew he was talking about you. his friends probably asked who he was talking to earlier, anyway. 

“george, stop.” you heard him say. your heart sunk a little. you could hear the conversation going on in discord. you had heard george saying something along the lines of ‘if she’s here i’m out.’

that really hurt, but you knew you had to suck it up. “i’ll leave, it’s okay.” you said, closing your laptop and picking up your stuff. 

“wait, don’t leave. he’s jok-” 

“i’ll see you another day, clay. go have fun.” you cut his sentence, smiling at him as you left his room, and place. 

as you sat in your car, driving home, you wondered if you were really unlikeable. clay always said that you are the nicest person he’s ever met yet you never believed him. this was the reason. why did his friend hate you so damn much?

you tried to push it to the back of your mind. you parked your car in your house garage, but stayed in the car. 

at this time you wished you had your parents still. death comes to everyone at some point, and you knew that. but it felt unfair, not having both your parents. you wished you still had them to talk to, to hug and cry to whenever you had a bad day.

weeks pass since that uneventful day and you are not having the best day. 

to sum it up, you went to work early, ready to meet your mentor, to teach you the way around your workplace. however, your mentor had called in sick and apologized to you. 

everyone gets sick so you didn’t blame her. but that would mean that you had to do things on your own, no one to guide you, so you were lost constantly. this also meant that you were screamed at a lot. 

they called you names, saying that you are useless, slow, lazy, and that you are just a pretty face but you didn’t have the brains to work professionally. sure, that hurt. but at the end of the day, this was what you wanted, so you continued, you pushed through all the mean words. 

you went home with a heavy heart. you were exhausted, mentally drained as well. you facetimed clay on your way home, when you were driving to tell him everything. you just needed to let it out. 

he told you to go home and relax, that you would be all good tomorrow. 

at first, you believed him, but then you felt like you weren’t feeling any better, so you decided to stream. 

“i just showered, please ignore my wet hair.” you told chat as you started your stream. 

as the hour passes, you started to feel better. clay watched your stream, donating you at times to ask you questions. 

your phone goes off, signaling someone calling you. you picked up, knowing it was clay anyways since no one else would call you at 10pm. 

“discord.” he told you and hung up. 

“wow, not even a hi. what a friend.” you told your chat while you got in discord. 

you silently went in, not greeting anyone. you had a feeling that it isn’t just clay in the call. 

“there she is.” sapnap called you out. you said hi to all of them, even george, who you knew was in the call too. he only grumbled a reply to you. 

you guessed that george streaming since sometimes he would talk to himself, not muted. sapnap told you to join the smp and play with them, to which you agreed since the night was still young anyways. 

you spawned at sapnap’s house somehow, but walked across the smp towards where the rest of them were. you heard george say something as your character walked closer to them, you were still in the discord call, anyways. 

“dream, why did she need to be here?” you heard him say.

“maybe cause i’m his best friend?” you replied, innocently. you didn’t realize that you saying this would cause a huge problem, or could potentially lead to a fight between the boys and you. 

“i’m his best friend, you butt off.” he says, somewhat using an angry tone. 

“wait, i didn’t mean to-” you tried to say but was cut off by george. 

“you’re literally so fucking annoying. i don’t understand how clay can stand you.” he almost shouted. 

you could feel the tears coming, but you tried your best to keep it in, not wanting to cry on stream, especially with your facecam on. 

“george, language.” bad told him off, trying to ease the tension. 

“no, no. i’m not going to just sit and keep quiet anymore. i don’t like her here.” george starts another sentence.

“i’ll go.” you tried to say, voice small.

“georg-” clay tries to stop him before it goes too far. 

“chat says she’s about to cry? well go cry to your mum, don’t waste your time here on the smp.” he scolds. 

fuck. that one really hurt. “george what the fuck.” you heard clay say before you silently left the smp and discord chat.

you still had your stream. you didn’t want to disappoint so you still kept your stream going, trying not to cry. 

you connected your ipad to your laptop so they could see what you were up to. you decided to draw since you didn’t feel like going on your own world in minecraft. 

“chat, i drew this of sapnap the other day cause i was bored.” you showed them, zooming in the drawing on your ipad. 

your intention was to only show chat your drawing of sapnap but you didn’t realize that you accidentally clicked off that drawing, and showed a different drawing on stream.

“oops, you weren’t suppose to see that, chat.” you told them as you clicked back from the drawing you accidentally showed them. specifically, you had shown them a drawing of george that you made. 

“calm down, chat. i draw everyone.” you tried to ease the comments that arrived to your stream. 

“i even drew dream but that’s in my private section cause you guys haven’t seen his face yet.” you told them. 

the comments were positive. some of them were telling you to post it on twitter, that the boys would appreciate it. “oh my god, chat. fine i will, i’ll post them right now.” 

you went on twitter and posted every single drawing of them, even clay’s but you picked the ones that you had drawn a mask on him. you captioned it “chat told me to do it and i couldn’t disappoint them.” 

slowly you saw that your positive chat started to turn very negative. the name calling, the degrading. people were calling you attention seeking, that you are nothing but a whore for drawing them all. 

“okay guys, i should go to bed, i have things to do in the morning.” you told them, saying goodbye, leaving the stream and turning your pc off. 

you had your twitter notifications off so that you wouldn’t be annoyed at the constant pinging but since you were already on twitter, you had known that most of the people you drew had already noticed it. they retweeted it, screenshotted it, asking for your permission to post it or use it in their profile. 

you replied to most of them, before turning your phone off to get ready for bed. 

you sat on your bed, staring at your wall opposite you. you could feel the exhaustion come over you, the tears streaming down your face. it had been a good couple of hours. 

streaming definitely did take your mind off a lot of the things from your job earlier. but somehow you felt like your day got worse. 

you didn’t blame george, nor anyone for the matter. you needed to just suck it up, that not everyone will like you and that it’s okay for someone to call you out like that. 

that didn’t mean what he said didn’t hurt. in fact, nothing hurt you more than this. the fact he reminded you about your mum. you wished you could cry to your mum. everyday. you just wanted to hug her, talk to her. you wanted nothing else than to have a couple more moments with your parents. 

you needed to be tough, as your dad told you to be. you won’t be torn down because of this. your phone rang. you already know it’s clay facetiming you. you dried your tears and quickly went to wash your face.  

“hi.” you started, smiling to him as you picked the call up. 

“you don’t have to act like you’re okay. you’re allowed to cry.” he reminds you. 

“i am okay, don’t worry.” you told him. 

“you aren’t” he starts. “he went too far, i’m sorry.” he says. 

“don’t apologize. neither of your faults. i am tired though, i’m going to bed and so should you.” you replied to him, reminding him not to remain awake for too long.

“sleep well, hopefully tomorrow won’t suck for you. i’ll sleep later. goodnight. i love you.” 

“i love you too.” you told him before you ended the call. 

you laid down on your bed, continued crying and praying that tomorrow would be better. with that, you cocooned yourself in your covers and went to bed. 

-

DREAM’S POV

“what the actual fuck, george.” i scolded the british boy as you left the smp and discord call. 

“turn off your streams, all of you.” i told them. 

i had your live put up on my other monitor, so i knew exactly what was going on and what she was doing. so far, her chat had nothing but nice things to say and now she’s showing her drawings to them. 

good. she’s good so far. she’s probably only trying to take her mind off things. 

as all the boys turned off their streams, i told them to wait before i continues saying anything. we were all still on minecraft, doing our own things. i couldn’t just sit and do nothing, i would end up being too mad and breaking things. 

“i am so fucking disappointed in you, george.” i started to say. i was truly disappointed. i knew the two of them somehow didn’t get along well but i didn’t understand why he’s such an ass about this. 

“i find her so fucking pretentious. i refuse to sit here and not say anything about it.” george told all of us. i wish i could shake him awake right now. 

“she has been nothing but nice to you, what is wrong with you?” my voice louder now. 

“clay, i fucking hate her. she’s acting nice in front of everyone. you, chat. i don’t like that.” 

“acting nice? she’s the nicest person i’ve met.” i scolded him, bad and sapnap agreeing with me. 

“then you clearly haven’t met many nice people, clay.” he told me, scoffing. 

at this, i got more angry. i didn’t want to hold back. i couldn’t anymore. although i knew she’d get mad at me for telling people this, i didn’t care. i had to tell them, tell george. he will not just step on my best friend and get away with it, not when i’m around. 

“you dickhead. you told her to cry to her mum. her mum isn’t there to be there for her, to console her, to calm her down when your bitch-ass decide to talk crap about her. her dad isn’t there to hug her, to tell her that boys like you don’t deserve her. you really fucked up this time, george. i can’t believe you.” i basically screamed at him. 

“what?” i head sapnap say. “you don’t say-” he tried to say again. 

“her parents passed away when she was eighteen. she had no one but me. even her relatives don’t give a shit about her anymore.” i told them. that felt good to say. sure, it is a private matter about you and i should respect her boundaries but i can’t listen to george talk shit about you like that and not do anything. 

“i hope you’re happy, george. you probably fucking broke her.” i told him before leaving the smp and discord call. 

before i left, i heard him. “fuck.” i knew bad and sapnap would torment him anyways. 

i called you right after that. you looked fresh and looked like you haven’t been crying but i knew better. i knew you went to the bathroom before picking up my phone call. i knew you too well. 

when she hung up on me, i went to check out her twitter. i saw my twitter notifications earlier and saw that she posted something. i knew it had to be one of the drawings. chat must’ve told her to post it. 

my heart sunk when i saw a drawing of george. you are too nice for this world. no one on this earth deserves you, not even me. the fact that you still posted him when he was the cause of your tears prior to this. 

and the fact that he has been mean to you since the start yet you still spent hours drawing him just melts me. george really needs to wake up. 

i saved the drawing you drew of me and had it up as my profile picture. it was too wholesome. you really are talented. not to mention, really smart too. you were incredibly forgiving, it wouldn’t shock me to hear that you’re not even mad at george for being so rude to you. 

-

YOUR POV

i heard a knock on my door as i was finishing reading a book. i went to the front door not really expecting it to be anyone. maybe it’s clay, since he comes to your house often and never told you earlier. not that you mind, anyways. 

you were shocked, to say the least, to see a slightly shorter than clay, boy standing in front of you. that isn’t the shocking part. it is the fact that you are well aware of the man standing in front of you. 

george. and for some reason, he was holding flowers.

when you opened the door, he smiled sheepishly at you. you just stared at him, waiting for him to say something before you decide to. 

nothing. he says nothing. “is this about the things you called me? i totally get why you said what you did and i don’t blame you.” you said first, since it didn’t seem like he would. 

“how am i not one to blame when i was so incredibly rude to you, not even getting to know you first.” he finally opens up. 

“did clay ask you to come?” you asked him. he shook his head. 

“i offered, actually.” he started. 

“i couldn’t just sit around and not try to apologize. i’m so sorry for turning a blind eye and calling you such things. i didn’t mean any of it.” he says.

before you try to say something, he cuts you off. “and i know you’re going to stand there and tell me i did nothing wrong, that i have nothing to apologize about but that’s not true.” he says. 

you smiled. were you that predictable. you knew he had a couple more things to say, hence you kept your mouth shut and told him to continue, and that you wouldn’t cut in this time. 

besides, him apologizing with bouquet of flowers in his hands is just too adorable for you. so you decide that you should enjoy this. 

“clay told me how much of an idiot i am for talking about your mum. i didn’t mean anything i said, i swear.” he starts again. 

“i just- it seems like you and clay are so close and it made me feel so alone, like i barely stood a chance with you in the first place. and that thought alone made me feel enraged. i know that doesn’t count as an excuse, nothing can count as an excuse bu-” you cut him off by pulling him by behind his neck to kiss him. 

the kiss was short, but sweet. it was for two reasons, one, to shut him up, for him to stop rambling, and two, for him to realize that you liked him just as much. 

as you pulled away from the short kiss, he was already looking at you with a glint in his eyes, as if he was looking at the last piece of donut in a coffee shop.

he showed you a grin, a grin like none other. it showed you how much he did actually like you. 

it’s safe to say he only spent the rest of his stay at your house, or in your company. even clay couldn’t steal him from you. 

[cesabutterflywrites]

The Duke of the Bay: Part 8

[Spotify Playlist] [Youtube Playlist]

First Part, Ao3 Link, Next Part (Coming Soon)

Story Warnings: Guns, threats, alcohol, violence homosexual slang used pejoratively and positively, internalized homophobia, ask me to add any if need be

Chapter Warnings:   This is a heavy chapter. Violence is only implied, but the implications have a heavy impact. Read with caution.

Chapter Word Count:    3839

Summary: Patton O’Hearty was a great detective. Most people didn’t take him for one at first glance, especially when he dressed casual. He was abnormally chipper; he thought everything was the cat’s pajamas. He had a smile for everyone he met. He was always tipping his hat at the dames and gents when he walked the streets of the Bay Area.

The only person he could never catch was the leader of the planted mob in Emeryville, nicknamed The Duke. The Duke was good at hiding his dealings and joints well, and he rarely had a snitch in his ranks. The few who tried, well, somehow they disappeared before they could give the police any substantial information. He was well hidden, but popular among the residents of the town. People talked boldly of his rambunctious parties, never revealing the locations though. He was hard to catch, to say the least.

So what happens, when instead, the detective is the one that’s caught?

-

The dawn came as it always did- a soft gray and orange haze streaking in with the marine layer over the water of the San Francisco Bay. Roman de Rossi had a lovely view of it from his family mansion on San Pablo Avenue. A mansion that felt too big lately, with too high of a price to keep. 

 Roman rolled over to get out of bed when he bumped into something hard and stiff. His heart skipped a beat when he heard his wife cry out. 

“Jeeze, Ro, trying to be the first at the breakfast table again?” Rosalie’s voice was gruff. She rubbed the spot on her back where Roman had bumped. “I already got one slugger goin’ for my kidneys.” 

Roman rolled his eyes, though he was relieved he hadn’t hurt Rosalie. “Rose, why aren’t you in your bed?” 

 “Because I needed the warmth and comfort of my husband.” she mumbled sarcastically into her pillow, already on her way back to sleep. 

 All exhausted bitterness left him at the sound of her snores. At the beginning of their marriage it had been incredibly overbearing for him-to the point they shared separate beds- but with the rising threat of the gangs, he never knew when he’d see the last of his wife. After yesterday, there wasn’t even a certainty that he’d make it to see the birth of his twins. 

 Carefully, with a hesitation that seemed to become all-too-familiar, he rested his hand on Rosalie’s belly that was under his blanket. Rosalie hummed in response, but kept her eyes closed still. Roman tried to feel for any movement from the twins, but they didn’t. He tried to think that it was because they were also sleeping. It had nothing to do with the fact that every time he tried to feel for their movement he would get nothing. He ignored the tightness in his throat, he disregarded the burning tears, and prayed to God silently that he would make it through this trying time long enough to at least hold his children once. 

 The thought was an unwelcome intrusion since that fateful telegram from the Duke’s right hand man two months before. Shoving the bitter memory of that message aside, he got himself ready in the dark with a swiftness, already wanting the day to be done. He couldn’t tell whether his need to stay home was due to his anxieties of being a father, his weariness of  having more caseloads of rising crime, or his paranoia about criminal eyes spying on him. He watched his large wife turn about in her sleep as he dressed; she was unable to find a comfortable position. He couldn't blame her. Something he wished he’d have considered before the pregnancy was getting a large family bed so they could share it. Even if she snored like a boozed up bear. 

 A lock of her thick black hair fell out of it’s wrap and was caught in the light from the hallway behind him. Her lips were pushed out in a half pout, half pucker. The gown she was wearing was a large blue cotton dress with flowing sleeves. Her eyes were closed, not restful, but crinkled under her worried brows. Her face had gotten wider in her pregnancy. Her cheeks were flushed with red with elevated temperature from the warm room. She moved her hand to hold under her head as she laid on her side, facing Roman and the door. 

 She was beautiful, and Roman took this moment to appreciate her beauty, for he didn't know if this was the last time he would see her. He’d never know from now on. 

 "I can feel ya starin', darling husband," her teasing tone was muffled by the pillow and her sleepiness. "Get to work so I can sleep." 

 He quietly leaned over her, just as he always did, and kissed her. 

 He’d never know that his tired wife had noticed the despair in the extra moments their lips were met. 

 “Send for someone right away if anything happens, alright dear?” he asked while brushing a stray curl aside. 

 “Sure thing honey…”

 His walk to work was dim in the early morning as the fog was thick as wool. The only light guiding his way was a soft orange desperately clinging to the lampposts. The fog was dense with the promise of the coming autumn season for next month. It wasn’t smart of him to have left so early. There was no one on the street. No vagrants, no Jezebels, and no wayward orphans. Just him, the mist, and the sound of his shoes on moist stones. Still, just because he couldn't see anyone, it didn't mean that he didn't feel like he was being watched with eyes capable of seeing through all sorts of darkness. 

 It was soon enough in his hurry that he made it to the precinct. He ran his hand through his somewhat damp hair as he took his hat off at the entrance. He was early, earlier than normal, and the shift-changing deputies milling about by the entrance desk stood up straighter when they saw him. 

 “Hey, Cap’n. How’s the missus? Ready to burst just yet?” the old man at the desk asked. His name was Reggie, and if you called him a secretary you’d get a busted lip. He was the nicest-and oldest- member of the force. 

 “Oh, she’s fine. Doc says it’s gonna be any day now ‘til they’re here. I think she’s more excited than I am for it to be over. She’s been complaining about her feet being so swollen she can barely stand,” Roman laughed. The use of the word ‘complain’ was only polite. Rosalie’s ‘complaints’ about her pregnancy would make sailors blush. 

 Reggie guffawed. “Yeah, I remember when Ethel had her first. She was cursing so bad near the end you’d think she was a drunken sailor in a brig!” 

 “Women have a way with words, don’t they Reg?” Roman commented as he made his way around the desk. He wasn’t really waiting for an answer as he kept walking away. 

 Reggie must have been in a nice mood, since he didn’t point out the Captain’s distracted behavior as he walked off. Roman appreciated that. He was already in deep enough trouble with his reputation as a younger force captain. 

 Roman was grateful that he was going to be able to take some leave soon. He didn’t like being away from his pregnant wife all day. Especially now, with everything so changed. He sat down in his rolling chair with the force of a thousand anvils. He opened the folder on his desk, knowing there’d be no change in it since the last time he filled it a month ago with the ‘tip’ Logan and Patton got.

 Case Number: 103625 - Open - “The Duke” 

 He sighed to himself as a heavy headache formed behind his eyes. It was a new day, which meant new trouble, which meant he seriously needed some coffee. He reached for his announcer when- 

 “Captain, there’s a visitor here for ya.” A fresh faced rookie announced while walking into the office. His voice was a bit too anxious-to-please for the captain’s liking in the morning . 

 Roman’s voice imitated distant thunder - a warning, a looming threat - “Haven’t you heard of knocking, boy?” 

 The young man was smart enough to appear embarrassed. “I apologize, sir.” He stood at attention as he had been trained to do. His badge gleamed in the light of the office as his chest puffed out.

 Roman felt guilty for snapping at him. He didn’t want to be an angry, bitter leader, like his predecessor. Or like his father had been. Those old men were so hardened by stress that they felt no regard for those beneath them. He refused to be that way, no matter what.  So he forced his body to relax as he imagined the darkness in his heart being swept under the new rug of his office. 

 “I understand. I was a rookie like you once upon a time. What seems to be the trouble?” Roman forced a smile on his face, as though it was drying cement to keep in place.

 “You’ve got a guy saying he’s here for a meeting, a...Mr. Doris? Fella has a scar right here on his face." The officer took his finger and motioned on his face as an indicator of his description. Obviously the young man’s mind was wandering to stories about the nastiest criminals known to man. 

 Roman nodded, cleared his throat, then told him, "Bring him in." 

 The young officer disappeared, and in one breath the enemy had walked through the office door as if he owned the place. Roman sighed in defeat. It wasn’t ‘as if’ he owned the place, it was that he practically did. Especially now that the detectives weren’t ever going to ‘catch’ the bad guys like they should have ages ago.

 “What brings you in so early, Mr. Doris?” Roman asked. He stood up, smoothed down his tie, and held his hand out to shake his visitor’s gloved hand.  

 The visitor smirked. “I like the new you, Roman. Straight to the punch without any frivolous small talk. Such a change from the last time we had spoken.” 

 The memory sat between them. A smoked out room, sweaty foreheads, two guns between two young men, a kiss- a stalemate. 

 Roman gulped down the anxious sensation and forced himself to speak. “Well, I haven’t had any coffee yet, so I’m not feeling patient enough for chit chat.” 

 Mr. Doris’ laughter sent chills down Roman’s spine. His voice was dry and raspy, like a lizard. “I see. Well, the good news is that your two lead detectives are good at their jobs.” He slammed his fist down onto the desk as his eyes peered into Roman’s. “The bad news is, they’re so good at their job, even you don’t control them anymore.” 

 “That’s not true!” Roman exploded. The force of his anger pushed him out of his seat so he was practically nose to nose with his guest. “I just suspended Logan Smith for admitting he’s working with one of your men! Detective O’Hearty is too personable to be focused on investigating your precious boss! Hell, he’s probably going to be too busy sidetracked into chasing wild geese from that stunt Logan pulled. And another thing-” 

 “That’s enough, Roman.” Mr. Doris covered Roman’s mouth with one of his gloved hands. “You’ve told me all I needed to know.” 

 It’s too easy to play you, dear Roman, Doris thought to himself. I knew something was up with Virgil Vitale. He couldn’t keep the grin off of his face at the thought of finally teaching the little punk a lesson. 

 Roman shook the hand off of his mouth. His breath was shaky. “What do you mean?” 

 “Oh, I won’t tell you, dear,” Mr. Doris hummed. He walked to the doorway without any explanation. It was time to take business into his own hands after all. No more time to waste. “I’ve gotta run. Say hi to the missus for me.” He looked over his shoulder to make sure the unspoken threat hit its target. 

 Roman was left standing in that position. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. His hair laid out of control around his face, his heart pounding, and the sense of impending doom- as if he just sentenced an innocent man to death. 

 ----------

 Alice woke up to the sound of the radio downstairs playing some German concerto. It was a slow morning for once. She hummed to herself, pleased that she was able to wake up slowly to beautiful music as opposed to the sound of harsh knocking at her door. Yet as she turned over in bed her peace was interrupted by the brightness of the sun shining through the window. She groaned at the disruption to her dreamy haze. 

 Alice hefted herself out of the large bed and made herself to the large vanity-much nicer than the one at her apartment- and started working on her hair. Once she was done making sure she looked presentable she made her way down the grand staircase to meet Logan wherever he was at. Which, knowing how large the house was, meant that it could be a proper while before she would find him. 

 The smell of sizzled meat wafted through the large hallways. Instead of looking for Logan, she decided to make her way towards the dining room from the night before. It’s rude to check in and hover over a cook’s shoulder, she reckoned. No matter how curious it was to her that Logan didn’t have any help at all. 

 The moment she sat down she heard the door from the kitchen open.  Logan was pushing a dining cart forward on his own. He had a white rag placed over his shoulder and a stained white apron tied around his waist. He was whistling an unfamiliar tune to himself as he set out the platters in front of Alice. She couldn’t help but laugh. She was enjoying this bright version of the detective. 

 “What’s the occasion, detective?” Alice asked once he sat down with her. 

 Logan struggled to hide a sheepish grin, “It’s just been a long while since I’ve had any sort of company over. I don’t get to go out much with my line of work.” 

 “Aw, didn’t wanna bring any wayward souls home for Christmas?” she teased. 

 Logan rolled his eyes at her. It was good that he was loosening up around her humor. Alice wondered if she could get away with cursing around him yet, but decided not to push her luck, given that they had a long day ahead of them. 

 “It’s gotta be more than me, come on.” Alice waggled her eyebrows at him. “What’s with the shift in the wind?” 

 Logan ignored her prompts. Instead, he lowered his head. Alice rushed to set her fork down so she could follow suit. 

 “Father God, I ask that you bless this food and those who consume it. We thank you for providing for us. We ask for you to sustain our spirits as well as our bodies. I ask that you help us in all of our endeavors today, and I thank you for bringing me someone to share this meal with. Thank you for providing me such youthful company. Amen.” 

 “Amen.” Alice echoed. She tried to keep her questions to herself. Logan’s prayer wasn’t one she had ever heard before. 

 Alice lifted the cover to reveal her breakfast. There was sausage, eggs, and toast with powdered sugar. It smelled amazing. 

 “Thank you, Logan, this looks delicious.” She immediately went for the eggs. It had been so long since she’d had eggs for breakfast. Not since she left her farm home nearly two years ago. 

 They sat at the table with only the sounds of the radio in the living room occasionally drifting in through the doors. Alice was enjoying her meal so much, she jumped when she heard the fancy telephone in the hallway ringing. 

 “Excuse me, Alice.” Logan muttered. He wiped his hands on his apron and swiftly walked on his long legs to the hallway. 

 It was irritating, being called in the morning. Especially when his meal was being interrupted. He lifted the earpiece off of the ringing box and greeted the operator quickly. Who would be calling him now that he’s suspended? 

 “Logan? Is this Logan Smith?” a partially familiar feminine voice asked over the receiver. 

“Yes. Who is this?” 

 Her words were spoken in rushes with pauses sounding like heavy breathing. “It’s Rosalie...Rosalie de Rossi.-” she took in a deep breath ”-I’m your captain’s wife!” After that she let out a bone-chilling moan. 

 The captain’s wife? He had only met her once at the Independence Day party at the Captain’s new mansion. Why was she calling someone like him? 

 The woman on the line hissed. “God fucking dammit! It hurts!” 

 “What hurts? What’s wrong? Where are you?” Logan threw his questions at her quickly as he reached for his notepad. 

 “My my,” a slick, whiskey smooth, masculine voice answered. He tutted. “Not very clever, Detective Smith.” 

 “Where is Mrs. de Rossi?” Logan asked. He felt as if the air around him was heavier. There was a weight settling into his chest. He ignored the familiar sensations and made a note that someone else had taken the line. 

 “She’s still alive. And she will stay that way, if you do everything I ask.” The man’s words were drawn out. Almost as if he were bored, or stalling. 

 “What do you want?” Logan hissed. The million questions he had were shoved aside when the man answered. 

 “I want your lover, Detective. Bring that filthy, grimy, Italian punk to the fisherman’s market in San Francisco after dark. Or I’ll just have to do something to your boss’ beautiful broodmare.” The voice chuckled at his sick comment. 

 This man was evil. The most evil he'd ever come across. Logan felt like he was going to topple over. “What makes you think I’ll come alone? That I won’t go straight to the captain?” 

 Laughter as dark as water at midnight bled through the receiver. “Oh Mr. Smith, that’s what I want. Give me a reason to pluck those sweet babies out of his missus.” 

 Logan heard a scream in the background. A string of curse words that he didn’t doubt were justified. 

 “Please don’t hurt her. Be reasonable. Why did you call me? I’m on suspension, I don’t have access to the resources-” 

 “Because your lover's family declared war, my boy!” the man roared. Logan identified his accent-Irish, or Scottish perhaps. “I’m going to get what I need outta him. So lock your brunette bitch away, grab your buddy and your faggot, and get your ass to my docks when the sun sets. Or-” another blood curdling scream from the woman in the background “-the captain’s dear wife and her babies drown.” 

 Just like that, the phone call ended. Logan didn’t have time to stand in the shock. Instinctive training responses immediately took over his body. He didn’t go back to the dining room and instead ran to get himself dressed. No other thoughts intruded. His head was empty of everything other than the fact that he needed backup. 

 He needed Patton. He needed to gather his resources. It was still nine in the morning. He had maybe eight hours before it was sunset, then two hours to cross the bay into San Francisco to the fisherman’s market. His mind was fixated on trying to create the quickest itinerary possible and how to notify the captain without the mysterious caller knowing. He seemed to know much more than Logan was comfortable with. 

 Logan was tying his shoes as he thought. He hadn’t told anyone about the night with Virgil. No one knew. He figured Alice may have suspected, but she hadn’t been able to talk to anyone. Not that she would. She was just a kid. She was just caught up in all of this business out of desperation and survival. Alice was just a pawn in a twisted game. She wasn’t a main player. 

 Patton was too wrapped up in his obsession with the Duke to even notice. Still, he was very angry towards Logan now that he knew Virgil was involved. Who knows what the captain and Patton talked about after Logan was dismissed. He remembered the knowing look at the Lion’s Den last month. His partner said then that he accepted everybody. Could he have been saying that to blend in? 

 Then there was the fact that this was the captain’s wife. Why kidnap her to get to Logan? He didn’t know the woman at all, only that the captain loved her very much. She was pregnant when they had met, and from the sound of the call she still was. 

 “Logan, where are you going?” Alice asked from the doorway of his bedroom. 

 “There’s an emergency. I need to go.” He pushed himself past her and rushed down the staircase. “Please stay here. Don’t leave.”

“Will Virgil be back to nanny me again?” she asked indignantly. 

 The question struck him through the heart. He couldn’t leave her unattended. She was defenseless here. The Duke's men could come looking for her. No doubt one of them was behind this in the first place as a way to distract them.

 “No. No, I-” he turned to her. “There’s trouble. I need to move you somewhere safer. You can’t be alone.” 

 Alice’s face seemed to grow ten years older. “I understand. Let’s go.” 

 They both grabbed their hats from the hook and walked out the door. Logan made his way to his car without another word. Alice felt in her gut that they were running into something more dangerous than she had ever known. 

 “Where are we going?” Alice asked after climbing into the carriage seat. Logan saw that she had withdrawn into herself. The silly child that he was starting to get introduced to had left her body. 

 “To Patton’s. I don’t think he’ll have left yet. We need his help.” Logan pulled out onto the street. “I’ll tell you on the way.” 

 Before the pair had shown up to Patton’s house, he had just drank his coffee. He didn’t need to go into the station today. All of his caseloads were closed except for one. Today was a day of regrouping and hitting the pavement. It was time for some good old fashioned talking to people again. The best way to find someone was to ask their friends or neighbors politely. Give them a smile and such. 

 He took his time getting ready. Trying to find the man that he used to be before this craziness started. The man who was able to walk down the street with faith in his heart. The detective who could solve everything with the right words someone needed to hear. That man was nowhere to be found as he pulled clothes from his closet. 

 It was a new day. He knew he would make progress today. No one was going to get the drop on him again. 

 When he sat down in his armchair his eye was caught on something on the end table. A piece of paper that didn’t seem to be from any of his  notepads. It wasn’t there when he had gone to bed the night before. 

 A familiar delicious thrill rushed through his body. Part of him thought to call on the locksmith soon, though it might not do much good. Carefully, as if the note were an explosive and not a simple message, he lifted the paper. 

 It was no simple message. 

 You’re in danger, dear detective. There are worse evils than I. Don’t do what your colleague asks. Come to me at the Lion’s Den instead. -The Duke

 Before he had time to react, there was rapid knocking at his door.

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A/N:

Hello there! It's been nearly a year. There's a reason for that.

I work very, very hard when it comes to my stories. This one has a very important place in my heart. I had to take a break from it because the last thing I wanted to do was make rush decisions or half-ass everything.

In doing so, it meant that I had to wait until I had the time to give it the attention it deserves. I recently had a lot of my life change this past year, mostly losing loved ones. So this fic didn't get much of it's deserved time at once.

That being said, I swear this has a direction. While a lot of it is up to interpretation, this has a very direct sequence of events. That's why it's important for me to be able to pay extra attention.

That being said, I'm making a new normal. This fic goal is to be updated every 3 months, maybe less. My practice is to edit 3 times at least before I post.

Let me know what you thought of this chapter. Tell me your theories about what will happen next! I love talking about this story with anyone who will listen.

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taglist: @deceits-left-glove 

let me know if you want to be on the taglist for this or any other ship/story

check my pinned tumblr post for more of my work 

[tcsauaskblog]

What's the most wholesome thing Gladstone has ever done for Donald? ps: this blog gives me life

Gladstone can't cook. Sure, he could probably whip up something and have it taste moderately ok, but that was just his luck kicking in. It’s not like he knew what he was doing. 

‘Oatmeal’s so easy it’s practically cheating,’ he remembers Della saying a forgotten amount of years ago. And if Della could cook anything even remotely edible, then surely Gladstone would have no problems. It would be fine. He totally had this in the bag.

He looked up from his table of ingredients to the home phone hanging on the wall and had the fleeting thought of calling Gran. Not because he couldn’t do it or needed any help or anything, but just to be sure for assurance's sake. 

But no, he couldn’t call her even if he wanted to. Gran had taken Del and Feth up to the mountains for an overnight Woodchuck retreat and wouldn’t be within phone service till Sunday. 

Meaning Gladstone was on his own.

Gladstone rolled up his sleeves and gave a huff of determination. Like he thought, he’d be fine. Making dumb oatmeal was totally within his capabilities. Prepare yourself world, Gladstone was about to rewrite history and make the best freaking oatmeal ever!

He turned on the stovetop under a saucepan of water and brought it to a boil before adding in a cup of oats. He doesn’t really know what else you put into oatmeal besides, well, oats, but he had a distinct memory of Don’s oatmeal always tasting sweet and cinnamony, so he adds a spoonful of cinnamon and honey and keeps stirring. 

Somewhere in the back of his head, Gladstone thinks Don usually puts more stuff into his, making it taste creamy and sweet and delicious. But asking Don about it would seem like he lost this battle and Gladstone would not give Donald that satisfaction, so he pushes the thought out of his head and keeps stirring till the oats seemed soft enough.

Turning the stovetop off and letting the oats cool down a bit, Gladstone cuts up an orange and makes some honey lemon tea before putting everything on a tray and making his way upstairs.

He knocks on his cousins’ door twice, but doesn't wait for an answer as he opens it anyway and walks into the dark room. 

“Wakey wakey, eggs and.. well... ok so I didn’t make any bacon. Or eggs. But get up anyway, I have something better,” Gladstone sing songs as he balances the tray on his hip and uses his other hand to flip the light switch on.

The lump of blankets in Donald’s bed shifted as soon as Gladstone walked in the door, but it was another few seconds of jostled movement before a head poked out of the pile of quilts and glared at Gladstone.

“Go away,” Donald practically growled, and Gladstone had to forcibly stop himself from flinching at how scratchy and gravely Don’s voice was.

“No can do patient zero, I’m your self designated nurse for the next two days whether you like it or not,” Gladstone says, grabbing Della’s desk chair as he walked over to Don’s bed.

“Since when?” Donald croaks again, and buries his head under the blankets once more just as Gladstone took a seat beside him.

“Since you collapsed in the field a couple of hours ago with a 102-degree fever and nearly gave Gus and I a heart attack,” Gladstone comments as he sets the tray down on the bedside table beside them. “Gus is fine by the way, I sent him back to Cuthbert’s a little while ago after he helped carry you in. What have you been eating lately anyway? Took us nearly five minutes to haul you up here.”

“Shut up,” Donald groaned again before poking a one-eyed glare at Gladstone from under the blanket. “They couldn’t send a prettier and nicer nurse?”

“Excuse you, I’m the prettiest and nicest nurse in this joint. You’re lucky to have me, there’s a teddy bear down the hall that’s in dire need of a stitch job and here I am tending to your dumb ass instead,” Gladstone remarks as a heated joke, but quickly regrets it when Donald just breathes haggardly and stays a little too still under the blanket for Gladstone’s taste. “Anyway, can you sit up? You need to eat something. I made you some oatmeal.”

Donald didn’t reply back for a few quiet moments, and Gladstone almost thought he had gone back to sleep. But before Gladstone could shake his shoulder to check, Donald rolled over from his side and slowly sat up, the bed creaking the entire time as Donald rubbed his eyes to adjust them to the light. “You... you made oatmeal?”

Gladstone swallowed hard at the sight of his older cousin, and didn’t think it was possible to look so pale and so flushed at the same time. His cheeks and forehead were tinted a soft red, but his hands and arms looked clammy and washed out. There were dark bags like bruises under his eyes, a combination of stress and sleep deprivation that had overworked him to the point of getting a fever and Gladstone felt absolutely sick with how tired Don looked.

His eyes were a glazed over blue, unfocused, and hazy as he lazily made eye contact with Gladstone. “I... I didn’t know you knew how to make oatmeal. I didn’t know you knew how to make anything.”

“Please, oatmeal is so easy, it’s practically cheating,” Gladstone rolled his eyes and hoped he could get away with quoting Della without Donald noticing. 

It must have been a testament to how rotten Donald was feeling because he didn’t question it a second time and just nodded sluggishly, stifling a yawn as he balanced his head against his knee and closed his eyes.

“...Don’t need it.... I’m ok,” Donald muttered halfheartedly into his knee, like he was desperately trying to convince himself instead, and the worried knot in Gladstone’s stomach tightened into something angry and frustrated.

“Still dizzy? Need any more ibuprofen?” Gladstone asked, trying not to let the worried knot that had tied itself in his gut over the past few hours tighten, but Donald just shook his head softly.

“Don’t lie to your nurse, dude. You’re obviously not ok,” and Gladstone hated this side of Donald. The stupid stubborn side that refused to let anyone in and help him when he needed it. It reminded Gladstone too much of himself, which honestly made him hate it even more. “You can barely sit up and talk to me. Can you suck up your stupid pride for like, two seconds, and just tell me what you need?”

Donald gave Gladstone another one-eyed glare, but there was hardly any fight in his words when he mumbled a, “Really... I’m ok... Just tired.” And Gladstone was seriously starting to get pissed off now.

“If you say you’re ok one more time, I don’t care if I’m your nurse or not, I swear I’m gonna smack you,” Gladstone snapped, and was surprised when Donald let out a low and wheezy chuckle. 

“Are you... really trying to pick a fight with a sick guy right now?” Donald mused and Gladstone almost rolled his eyes so hard, he would have hurt himself if he wasn’t a pro at it.

“Oh, so NOW you’re sick. But when you’re hauling irrigation pipe around in 100-degree weather while being so dizzy you can barely walk straight and with a high enough fever to boil an egg, you’re all, ‘oh, don’t worry about me gran,’ and ‘I’m totally fine Della, go have fun.’ And by the time we figure out you’re not, it’s too late and you’re already half-dead in a creek somewhere,“ Gladstone complained, throwing his arms up in the air exhaustedly.

“I was in a field, not a creek.”

“My point is,” Gladstone rubbed his brow in annoyance, and tried to remember that he was indeed trying to take care of Donald, not pick a fight with him. But Gladstone was his cousin first, caretaker later, and it was high time someone spoke up to Donald about his self-sabotaging tendencies. “You always do this. You always push yourself too hard and never let any of us help you when you need it, and I’m getting sick and tired of having to worry all the time about you lying to us about whether you’re ok or not.” 

Gladstone crossed his arms over his chest tightly and let his words hang in the air, his eyes glued to Donalds in a fierce sort of way that practically dared Don to try and argue back with him.

But to Gladstone’s surprise, Don just knitted his brows tightly and shifted his gaze. Hugging his legs to his chest and resting his forehead on top of his knees, Donald muttered a soft “...I know... Sorry,” that caught Gladstone completely off guard.

And Gladstone had never seen Donald cry in all his 13 years, and Donald wasn’t crying now, but his eyes got an intense watery that made Gladstone’s heart turn ice cold and sink all the way to his feet. 

And maybe it was just that Donald was really sick and tired and wasn’t in the right headspace to put up a fight and defend himself against Gladstone, but still, Gladstone couldn’t help but feel the guilt of his earlier accusation tear through his angry exterior like a knife through butter, and Gladstone melted into something soft and forgiving and far less intimidating and hard-pressed.

He was still frustrated with Donald, but to be fair to his cousin, it wasn’t like Donald tried to be difficult like this on purpose.

Donald’s always tried to do things by himself, ever since they were little kids. He always tried to carry the world on his shoulders and be the singular pillar holding all his family up. When they all moved into Gran’s for the first time, Gran made a comment to Donald that he was the man of the house now, and she would be needing his help to take care of everyone. Gladstone knows Gran only meant it as a way to cheer Donald up, but Don took it all too seriously, and used it as an excuse to do things on his own.

It really wasn’t like Donald was too prideful to ask for help, like Gladstone. It was just that he didn’t know how or when it was ok too. And he’d much rather burn up completely at both ends before he ‘burdened’ his family with what he considered ‘his’ responsibilities. 

And it was frustrating cause in the same light, Gladstone didn’t know how to offer help without it seeming like he was looking or picking a fight.

“You don’t have to apologize, it’s just,” Gladstone sighed, and ran a tired hand through his hair before leaning forward and resting his elbows on the edge of Don’s bed, craning his neck so that he could make eye contact with Don from where he was leaning his head against his knee. “I don’t like doing this. I’m not good at doing this.”

“What... taking care of my ‘dumb ass’?” Donald muttered sarcastically. 

“Seeing you sick and being useless to help you,” Gladstone stated flatly, staring at Don’s eyes with a heated deadpan as they got wide and electric with surprise.

“Helping you is the easy part dude. Getting you to let me is what I’m not good at. You know it’s ok to take a break, right? I know I complain about doing chores and all, but it’s not like I won’t help pick up the slack if you need it.” And Donald's eyes were large and blue and glued to Gladstones as he continued, trying with every once of his luck to get Donald to understand his wishes. “You don’t always have to do everything yourself all the time. You’re allowed to take a step back and breathe once in a while. It’s not like everything will fall apart without you there to hold it together, ya know. We’re not so fragile that we’ll fall into ruin if you don’t run yourself into an early grave to fix everything yourself. You’re allowed to ask for help.”

Gladstone leaned forward and tapped Donald’s forehead a couple of times and gave him a wry smile. “So I don’t need you to apologize. I just need you to be ok. Like, really be ok. And to not try to take on the world by yourself. You’re not alone, dude. Stop acting like it.”

Donald didn’t retort with anything witty or spitfire back, which Gladstone half expected him to, but he nodded honestly and clearly, and gave Gladstone a wry smile of his own.

“Ok,” was all he said, and that was as good as gold for Gladstone.

“Ok, good!” Gladstone straightened up in his seat and reached over for the bowl of oatmeal on the nightstand. “It should be cool enough now for you to eat. I can’t promise it’s like, the best thing ever, but you need to eat something and I’m pretty sure this won’t make you feel any worse.

Donald took the bowl slowly, and raised an eyebrow of surprise in Gladstone’s general direction.

“I still can’t believe... you made me oatmeal.”

“What, like it’s hard?” Gladstone answered back, leaning forward on his elbows once again and looking at the bowl with a nervousness he didn’t quite know what to do with other than to not show it to Donald at ALL costs. “Just eat it before it gets cold, ya skeptic.”

Donald took an unhurried bite, and chewed for what seemed like a torturous forever to Gladstone, before breaking into a gentle smile.

“It’s good,” Don commented while he chewed, and smiled even bigger when Gladstone physically beamed on the spot.

“What, really? You mean it? I knew it wouldn’t be like, horrible, but it was my first time making it so I wasn’t sure and-,”

“Try it,” Donald interrupted, still smiling as he held out a spoonful towards Gladstone, who, in his defense, took it immediately in his excitement over his first real cooked dish. And didn’t even think twice about possibly getting Donald’s sick germs, (even though he never gets sick anyway.)

As soon as the spoon entered his mouth, Gladstone started coughing and gagging, and almost downed Donald’s entire cup of tea in one swig to try and wash the oatmeal down.

It wasn’t like it was horrible, it definitely was by anyone's standards edible. But it wasn’t good by any means either. Gladstone had definitely put too much cinnamon in it, and the honey was almost nonexistent, making it all together just taste way too bitter and chalky.

“UGH! You liar! You said it tasted good!” Gladstone barked, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and staring daggers into Donald as his cousin smiled innocently back. 

“I said it was good, not that it tasted good,” Donald supplied simply, taking his spoon back from where Gladstone had thrown it back onto the bed and taking another bite. “Not that is matters. I’m pretty sure this fever made me lose my sense of taste.”

“What’s the difference then?” Gladstone demanded, and Donald just continued to smile softly into his bowl, his soft blue eyes practically illuminated against the red of his cheeks.

“It’s warm,” Donald replied back plainly, not looking at Gladstone as he took another big bite out of it. “I like it.”

And Gladstone didn’t really understand what Donald meant by that, but a pull in his stomach told him it was a compliment, and he could feel his own cheeks get hot with pride. So he stood up abruptly and said something about getting Donald a glass of water as he walked toward the door, not wanting to show Donald how pleased he was by the praise. 

Even though the oatmeal wasn’t a huge success, Donald still liked it, which meant Gladstone won the battle in the end.

Once he had gotten a glass of cold water from the kitchen and a cold wash rag for Donald’s forehead, he made his way back up the stairs towards his cousin’s bedroom.

Gladstone had left Don’s bedroom door open when he left, but before he could announce his arrival, he heard Don’s quiet snoring. Donald had fallen back asleep, with half of his body uncovered by his blanket and with the lights still on. Gladstone shook his head and smiled, but when he walked over to put the glass of water down on Donald’s nightstand, he noticed the bowl of oatmeal completely empty against Donald's side. The spoon was still hanging out of his mouth. 

“Dummy,” Gladstone said with more affection then he’d ever let Donald hear while he was awake, and took the spoon out of his mouth with the utmost care. He put the empty bowl and spoon on the tray and recovered Donald with the blanket, making sure to tuck in any stray limbs. He brushed some of Donald's wild bed hair out of the way before placing the cold washcloth on his forehead. Donald sighed quietly at the contact, but otherwise made no show of waking up anytime soon. Gladstone noticed that his fever didn’t feel nearly as hot as it did earlier, and felt a sigh of his own escape his lips in relief.

Gladstone gathered the empty bowl and spoon on the tray, leaving all but a single slice of orange that he stole for himself on Donald's nightstand, and put Della’s desk chair by where he had found it. 

“Call me when you need me,” Gladstone said, and didn’t care that Donald was fast asleep and couldn’t hear what he had said when he turned off the light and closed the door.

[volturi-stuff]

My Love

Alec Volturi x Fem!Reader

Part Seven

A/N: So, this took awhile to write. Sorry for the wait guys. It's the end guys! Last part. I'm not crying, haha! :(

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It has been a few weeks since you asked Alec to turn you. He was hesitant about the idea, but Caius and Demetri were all for spending eternity with there best friend. But today was extremely special.

"Alec today is my birthday!" You said as you wrapped your arms around him, you laid your head on his back and closed your eyes.

"Happy Birthday, Mi Amor." Alec said grabbing your hand twirling you around to face him.

He nuzzled his nose with yours, "And what would you like to do on this... Special day?" Alec whispered, his lips inches away from yours.

"Can you turn me?" You whispered back.

"Are you absolutely sure about this?" Alec asked.

"Yes, there's nothing I want then to be with you forever." You whispered as you placed a gentle peck on his cold lips.

"Okay, your wish is my command. I have to inform the masters." Alec said with a smirk.

"But, we still have a few hours, I'm not turning you right away." Alec said pulling you into his chest as he placed his cold lips on yours.

He actually took you back to the fountain where you had your first kiss, you ate your takeout there.

"Alec, remember?" You said slightly giggling.

"Yeah, remember you spit your coffee everywhere!" Alec yelled with laughter.

"I never even got to taste it because of you!" You yelled back as you laughed with him.

"Hey, I didn't tell you to spit it everywhere." Alec said with sarcasm.

"Yeah, well between you and the waiter, yeah you did!" You said laughing so hard you fell back into the fountain.

"Are you okay?" Alec said as he tried to pull you out, you pulled him in, with a slash.

"Are you serious? I'm wet!" Alec yelled.

You laughed, "I didn't tell you to help me." You mocked his earlier sarcasm.

Alec glared, then he smiled. He splashed you with water.

You both broke out in laughter. You both had to walk home wet.

It was time for him to change you. Alec went to inform the masters about what was about to happen, while you went to get changed.

Alec was about to inject his venom into your neck. You were going to be with your two besties and the love of your life forever. You took a deep breath and put your nicest outfit on, a black lacy dress.

You sat on the bed and waited for Alec. He entered the room and grabbed your hands.

He sat next to you and pulled you into his lap. "You won't feel a thing, Mi Amor." Alec said as he began to kiss you deeply and passionately. He began placing kisses down your jaw to your neck. "Your sure about this? Mi Amor." Alec whispered.

"I've never been more sure of anything in my entire life." You whispered back. Suddenly you were covered in a shield of black smoke. Everything was numb.

"I'll be here, when you wake up." Alec mumbled as he placed a final kiss on your neck, "Mi Amor." Alec whispered as he bit down on the skin of your neck. Alec was right, you couldn't feel anything.

You went numb in his arms, Caius came up to make sure he did it right.

When you didn't wake up right away, Alec began to panic.

"Caius, what if I killed her?" Alec asked. He held your body closely to his as his smoke was still going, he was beginning to get weak.

Moments later you woke up.

"Alec?" You whispered. Everything was one hundred percent more clearer as you opened your eyes. You looked over to see Alec's beautiful face next to yours. He was so beautiful.

"I'm here, Mi Amor." Alec whispered as he stroked your face.

"You're gorgeous." You whispered.

Alec smiled at your comment. "We are the same temperature now, no more getting cold when I do this," Alec said as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. He cupped your cheek and put his other hand on your hip.

"Alec, I love you." You mumbled.

"Guys, I'm right here." Caius spoke from the corner.

"Me too." Demetri said standing next to Caius. You vampire sped over to Caius and wrapped your arms tightly around his neck.

"Don't crush me, Little Human." Caius said placing his arms around you too.

"Not so human now, Cai." You whispered.

"Where the hell is my hug?" Demetri asked as he glared.

"Right here." You said as you vampire sped to him too. You gave him a skull crushing hug.

"Darling, easy." Demetri mumbled.

"I'm sorry, Dem." You said smiling at him.

"I'm one of you guys now!" You yelled.

"I know, and you're absolutely breathtaking, Mi Amor." Alec said speeding over to you.

You forced a group hug on everyone.

"I love you guys." You sighed as you let go.

"I love you too, Little Vampire." Caius said.

You laughed. "That's funny, bro!" You said as you tried to give him a pat on the back, but you ended up smacking him into the wall. He flew across the room.

"Dear god! Caius I'm sorry! I'm a newborn!" You yelled as you flew over to him.

"It's quite alright, I'm a little mad, but you didn't do it on purpose." Caius said getting up. There was a giant hole in the wall now.

****

You and Alec were walking down the dark halls of the castle you were no longer scared of.

"I love you, Alec." You said placing a kiss on his hand.

"I love you too. Imagine Beth's reaction when she finds out I turned you." Alec mumbled.

"What do you mean?" You asked.

"Beth, used to have a crush on me. It was completely one-sided, I never returned her feelings, or even spoke to her for that matter. Felix told me. Her's and Felix's relationship isn't as strong as ours." Alec said smirking at you.

"And why is that?" You asked.

"Because, you can return how much I truly love you because you are a vampire now." Alec said kissing your cheek.

"That's why she hates me, and why she tried to tear us apart." You whispered.

"Yeah, I guess." Alec said. You had managed to walk outside, the moonlight hit his face perfectly. He was stunning.

You stopped dead in your tracks, nothing mattered in that minute, just you and Alec. Not Beth or the Cullens. Just him.

"I truly do feel for you strongly. I can't explain it." You mumbled.

"We are true mates, blood singers." Alec said putting his hands on your cheeks.

"I love you, Mi Amor." Alec whispered pulling you into a kiss.

"I love you too." You whispered.

"Today, tomorrow, forever." Alec mumbled.

"Forever." You whispered back.

You were completely normal. No special powers, you are just like Caius.

And you truly were completely ready to spend all of eternity with the love of your life and your best friends. What more could you want?

Tags~

@volturicangetit @embrycallgirlss @rexburn12 @foreverqueenxoxo @kpopgirlbtssvt @prettyinblack231 @thelostallycat

[loverofmine5sos]

Insecure - Muke

Pairing: Michael x Luke

Summary / Notes: After some fans tweet, Michael found himself insecure about the way he looks. Luke finds out and helps him through it.

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety / panic attacks , Possibly triggering topics ( such as weight or appearance ) , Swearing, Luke calls Michael kitten (a few times)

Words: 1.4k

Author notes: This is my first fan fiction post on this account! I have done these in the past but on different accounts. If you have any requests feel free to message them to me and i’d be more than happy to write them out! I’ll write pretty much anything! -

Michael soon regretted his decision of scrolling on twitter that day. He was dressed for the day in a light gray fluffy sweater that was actually lukes, and black skinny jeans.

Luke was gone for the day which left Michael bored laying in their shared bed. It was a genuinely okay day, for awhile Mikey had decided to sit outside seeing it was sunny and warm out. Soon that made him bored though.

So he overall ended up back in bed scrolling on his phone. He had enough of Instagram so he decided to go over to twitter. He thought this would be a good idea until he saw his timeline.

Hundreds of tweets about his recent photo he posted on instagram. There were tweets along the lines of “why is his hair like that?”, or “he looks better in other pictures”. This was usual for the band to get hate. Michael sometimes had a hard time dealing well with it though.

He sighed and set his phone down. “Maybe I should get water.” He thought to himself before uncovering himself. He walked down the dimly lit stairs of his and Luke’s home. Somehow with how bright it was outside the light didn’t make the stairs very lit up.

He walked into the kitchen once downstairs and grabbed a glass pouring water into it. He slowly started to drink it, but when he was half way done he set the cup down. The thoughts of the comments were playing in his head.

He slowly walked back up the stairs with his water walking back into the brightly lit bedroom. He sat down on the king sized bed setting his cup of water on the nightstand next to the bed. He picked his phone back up taking a deep breath.

He decided to scroll through the tweets more. There were continuous terrible tweets popping up on his timeline. “He looks fat here”, “why does he look like that”, “Luke should date Ashton instead” were the kinds of tweets he saw.

The one about Luke was the last straw for Mikey. He couldn’t hold it together anymore. He kept scrolling as tears left his eyes falling onto the screen of his phone. He loves Luke, but what if Luke didn’t like him anymore, he thought to himself.

All he wanted was his boyfriend to be happy. “What if they were right, maybe I shouldn’t eat.. luke would be happier with me then.. id look better for him” he continued thinking to himself.

He threw his phone on the bed and walked to the bathroom and saw himself in the mirror. The bathroom was also dimly lit due to the fact there were no mirrors and the light bulb was slowly going out.

“They’re so right...” he says quietly poking at his cheeks and looking at his body. “M not pretty for Luke..” he says sighing letting more tears fall. He pulls off his shirt to reveal his upper half. “M-my arms are so ugly” he mutters starting to cry harder.

“L-look at my f-face it’s not e-even cute” he continues stuttering from crying so much. All of a sudden his legs give out as he cries. He feels his whole body going numb and he knows exactly what’s happening. All he can do is cry.

During all of this he didn’t hear luke walk in the door. Luke had just got home from doing some last minute vocals in the studio to finish up the album. He had been gone since earlier that morning and wasn’t supposed to be hone till a lot later than he was. So, Michael didn’t expect him to be home.

Luke set his bag down on the counter and called out for Michael. “Mikey baby, im home!” He called out but didn’t get any response. “Weird” he thought. Usually Michael would be waiting for Luke downstairs, ready to cuddle or play video games.

Petunia ran up to Luke barking. “Hi baby!” He says picking her up as she licked his face. “Where’s Michael, petunia?” He says setting her back down on the floor. She runs off upstairs into their shared bedroom so Luke assumes he’s in there, probably napping.

He walked up the stairs taking his jacket off. He finally makes it into their shared bedroom but doesn’t see Michael. He gets confused but soon hears the soft cries from the shut bathroom door. “Fuck” luke thinks to himself as he walks over to the door.

“Mikey, baby I’m home open the door” he says quietly but loud enough for Michael to hear. Luke tries to open the door himself figuring if Michael was upset he wouldn’t open the door, but it was locked. “Bub please open the door” he says starting to get worried because all he hears is Michaels soft cries.

Luke pushes himself into the door which makes it pop open and he sees Michael laying on the floor, with no shirt, crying. Lukes heart sank, he hated seeing his boyfriend cry. He never wanted Michael to ever be so upset

“Baby” Luke says but it comes off as a whisper. “N-no c-can’t see m-me like t-this” Michael cries out shaking badly. Luke sits down on the floor immediately pulling Mikey onto his lap. He slowly rocks him back and forth trying to help calm him down.

“Don’t cry baby, im here. Shh” luke says keeping a tight grip on Michael. “B-but” Michael starts to say but luke starts to talk. “C’mon baby it’s okay” he says knowing Michael is still having a panic attack. Michael cries into Luke. He feels to heavy to be in Lukes lap so he tries to pull away from Luke to cry on the floor again.

“Kitten what are you doing?” Luke says keeping a tight grip on Mikey making the older boy give up on trying to get out of Lukes lap. “M-m t-too h-heavy” Mikey cries out burying his face in Lukes chest.

“No you aren’t kitten shh” Luke sighs starting to figure out what’s going on. This isn’t the first time Michael has had this happen. It hurt luke to know how badly self conscious Mikey was. Michael believed he was annoying, ugly, and couldn’t do anything good. But Luke knew this was all wrong. Michael was the best looking, nicest, person he had ever met. Michael was in no way annoying.

Luke picked up Michael and stood up moving him to their bed and sitting down there instead. He finally saw Michael’s phone and what the boy had been reading earlier making him think all of this. Luke started tearing up as he saw the tweets people had been sending to Mikey that he had been reading.

“You know what Michael?” Luke said and Mikey knew as soon as Luke said his full name that what he was about to say was important. “H-hm” he says shaking holding onto Lukes t-shirt with a tight grip.

“You’re so amazing, you can play guitar so well, you’re the most handsome person I’ve ever laid eyes on. You’re such a good boy Mikey, don’t waste your pretty tears” luke said looking down at Michael. “You’re so amazing. I love your body, I love you Michael” he added.

“R-really?” Mikey said wiping his tears looking up into Lukes bright blue eyes. “Really, Mikey. I don’t know what i’d do without you” Luke says easing up on Mikey a bit so he could sit up.

Michael sat up and finally was calming down. “Do you still love me, Luke?” He says playing with the bottom of Luke shirt. Luke nods and starts to speak “so much, kitten” he says, hugging the boy again. Mikey finally felt okay enough to go grab one of Lukes hoodies and slipped it on.

“Looks so good on you bub” Luke smiles awing at at how adorable his boyfriend looked in his clothes. Mikey smiles and walks back to the bed. “Cuddle?” He says wanting no more than to be close to Luke.

Luke nods and lays down cuddling with Mikey. He pulls out his phone and decides to tweet about the hate to Michael and everyone started to trend the “weloveyoumichael” hastag making Luke smile.

“I love you Lu” Mikey says slowly falling asleep.

“I love you too, kitten. So much more than you know.” Luke smiles down at Mikey kissing his forehead as he drifts off to sleep.

-

[livingthroughchoices-blog]

The Marshmallow Chronicles (Ch. 8: A Waltz to Remember)

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Author’s notes: Hey guys! Sorry for the late hour, as I told that lovely anon who asked when the next chapter was coming, school has been crazy! But better late than never! As with the previous chapter, thanks to everyone for reading (and especially to those of you who comment, you keep me going!) and a huge thanks to @starstruckzonkoperatorbat and @notoriouscs for asking me to tag them! I hope y’all like it!

Rating: T

Pairing: Drake x MC

Words: 5206

Maxwell had come into Drake’s room earlier than he would’ve liked.

“What are you doing here?” Drake groaned, still half asleep.

“I just wanted to hang out.”

“Hang out?! I hate you right now.”

“Aw, come on! I feel like I almost didn’t see you yesterday... I’m sorry, by the way, about the Savannah thing...”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” replied Drake hurriedly, eager to change the subject, “it’s water under the bridge.”

“Drake, I’m serious.” Maxwell did look serious, uncharacteristically so, as he looked Drake directly in the eye. “I’m really sorry. If it makes you feel any better I’m sure wherever she is, she’s doing okay.”

“Well, you can’t know that but thanks for trying anyway,” Drake sighed and sat up on his bed.

“I’m glad Riley went after you.”

“Actually...” Drake hesitated, “so am I.”

“Oh really?” Maxwell held back a smile. “That’s interesting. If I remember correctly you didn’t even want her to come here in the first place.”

“Can you blame me?! She seemed so...” Drake struggled to explain or even remember why he hadn’t wanted Riley here, but it seemed like he’d thought so years ago. “But now she’s so...” 

He looked down at his hands, searching for words that could define what he thought about her now without going overboard, but his brain appeared to be stuck on “amazing”. He chose to make a helpless hand gesture instead, hoping Maxwell wouldn’t dwell on his non-phrases.

Of course, Maxwell preferred to dwell on something else.

“So I guess what you’re saying is... I was... right?” His delighted grin only grew as he saw Drake’s horrified expression. “Admit I have good ideas, come on, say it.”

“I will not.”

“Pleeease?”

“Fine, you had one good idea.”

“Nope, it has to be ideas, plural. As in, including Club Sub.”

“Don’t do this to me,” said Drake weakly.

“Do it, or I’ll tell Riley and Hana about that time you danced to Hayley Rose on the table at a Beaumont Bash.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I have video.”

“You have good – nay – great ideas, Maxwell,” said Drake solemnly.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Maxwell clapped him in the back and sat down beside him. “I saw you talking to Lady Kiara yesterday, what’s going on there?”

“Nothing’s going on!”

“Drake, remember what I said the other day, not everyone–”

“Wants chocolate, I know, but it’s not just that. I... guess I’m not sure how much I like Lady Kiara as a person, y’know? I mean, she’s fine, she’s always nice to me but I don’t feel as comfortable around her; not like I feel with A– Uh, w-with you, or Liam.” He cleared his throat.

Maxwell wiped imaginary tears from his eyes. “Drake, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Yeah, yeah, now get the hell out so I can get ready for the stupid ball.”

“Sure!” said Maxwell with his usual enthusiasm, still looking pleased. “See you there!”

Drake was left to ponder the fact that he’d almost said “Addams” just then.

After trying and failing to clear his mind in the shower, he decided to allow himself a few minutes to think about that before moving on.

Dude, why are you so freaked out? You feel comfortable with Addams, well, duh! She wore you down! She’s always around, being annoying with her stupid teasing, and her nosiness, and her wanting to help people and cheer them up, and wanting to make sure you were okay yesterday...

He’d put his shirt on inside out.

There was a knock on his door for the second time that day.

“Uh, come in.” He hurriedly put his shirt on right as Liam came into his room.

“Oh, hey, man.”

“Hi, Drake.”

“What’s up? I barely saw you yesterday.”

“Yes and, in fact, that is what I came here to talk about.”

“Oh?”

“I noticed you spent quite some time with Lady Riley yesterday.”

“Oh. Um, yeah I, uh, I guess I did.” Drake rubbed the back of his neck, feeling guilty for no good reason.

“Well, I just wanted to thank you.”

“Listen, Liam, I– Wait, thank me?”

“Yes, of course, I know you don’t approve of her, but I appreciate you watching out for her and keeping her entertained while I fulfill my duties.”

“Right, sure. You’re,” Drake swallowed, “welcome. And I don’t disapprove of her anymore, you know? I actually think she’d make a decent enough queen.” He felt his mouth grimace of its own accord when he said that, but Liam didn’t appear to notice.

“She would, wouldn’t she?” Liam’s eyes were dreamy and a small smile lit up his face. “I just wish I could spend more time with her.”

“Yeah, well, duty first and all that.”

“Yes... but it shouldn’t be. Drake, you’ve made up my mind. From tomorrow’s event on, I have resolved to spend as much time with Lady Riley as I can get away with without slighting the other suitors,” he said giddily.

“Great. That is a-a great idea, Liam. I’m glad you decided that. So glad! I won’t even have to keep spending time with her, ha ha. Well, this has been great, but I think I’m gonna take a walk. See you at the dance, buddy!”

Drake hurried out of his room like he was being chased.

After exploring the chateau, followed by a long walk filled with nothing but silence occasionally interrupted by the sounds of nature, Drake was feeling much better. 

Damn, this place is not good for me. 

He looked at his phone and cursed under his breath; he needed to get back for the stupid ball. As he walked, he got a text from Bastien saying, “Bought photos back. Still working on culprit. Talk to you soon, Bastien.”

He texted back, “Great news! I’ll see you tomorrow. And you don’t have to sign your texts.”

He felt his phone vibrate, “Got it, thanks, Bastien.”

He chuckled as he pocketed it before entering the ballroom.

He automatically walked to the table farthest from the dance floor; he knew Olivia well enough by now. He was followed by a frantic usher, intent on showing him his seat. The usher seemed like he might cry if Drake didn’t let him show him the seating chart, so he turned and heard him say exactly what he knew he would: he was in the very back of the ballroom.

He slumped down in a chair. He knew this was coming every time, more so when Olivia was involved, and yet it still stung. Mostly because sitting here severely undercut his ability to enjoy himself. The food would be inedible – if they even served him any – and the company would be–

Addams is coming to my table. 

Her snowy gown sparkled in the soft light of the ballroom, and yet it didn’t outshine her; if anything, she looked even more luminous by comparison. He was pretty sure his mouth was open, so he carefully arranged it into a casual smirk. 

Damn, if she doesn’t look amazing.

Oh, and Hana’s here, too.

He definitely wasn’t going to get hung up on the fact that it took him a full minute to register that Hana, an objectively beautiful woman, was even there.

“Welcome to the table of exiles.”

Riley grinned. “Drake? I’m actually glad to see you.” He managed to avoid saying something in disbelief, but it was a close call. “And here I was worried that we’d be stuck with some stuffy nobles.” He smirked more widely and pulled out the chair next to him for her.

"It’s probably meant to be an even bigger slight that we’re with a commoner,” sighed Hana. Drake had almost forgotten she was there. 

And what a lovely reminder. 

He looked fixedly at his empty plate but out of the corner of his eye caught Riley shooting Hana a disapproving look.

She sat down next to him and put her hand on his arm, which was resting on the table. “Well, Olivia really missed the mark this time.”

Drake tried to control his smile, but it was futile. “Thanks, Addams. That actually means something, coming from you.”

They held each other’s gaze until Hana’s chair scraped the floor as she pulled it out. They both turned to look at her.

“Drake, you don’t seem bothered at all to be seated in the back.” She seemed to be trying to make small talk to make up for her earlier blunder. Drake decided to let it slide.

“What can I say? After enough years of being treated like this, you build up a thick skin.” 

Or at least you pretend to. 

“Besides, back here? Out of the spotlight? At least we can relax.” He turned to look at Riley at this last part with a playful smile, which she returned.

Waiters had started bringing the food out and the room was suddenly filled with delicious smells that were wafting from the bowls they were carrying. He couldn’t tell what it was exactly, but his mouth was watering already. 

Too bad we won’t even get to try it.

As if hearing his thoughts, Hana said, “The food looks amazing. I hope they serve us soon! I’m starving!”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up,” he informed her. “Where we’re seated, we’ll be the last to eat. If there’s even any left by the time they get to us.”

“But... the lobster bisque... do you really think we’ll go hungry?” Hana pouted.

Riley, who had looked outraged when he explained they were likely not eating, got a determined look on her face. “Not if I can help it. This can’t be too different from hailing a New York taxi.”

She winked at them before getting up and approaching a passing waiter jerkily. “Hey... Please, I’m about to faint.” She put her arms on the waiter’s chest, as if she couldn’t support her weight. “I need food.”

Drake caught on to what she was doing and instinctively got up from his chair. Hana was watching fascinatingly.

“I haven’t eaten all day, I...” Riley slowly crumpled backwards. Drake yelled, “Hey!” louder than he intended and threw himself forward, catching her just before she hit the ground.

Riley kept going, like a pro, “Please... food...”

The waiter looked like she was about to faint herself and hastily dropped a single bowl of bisque on their table, scurrying away before any of these crazy nobles had a chance to pull anything else.

Drake was still holding Riley. He was suddenly very aware that he could smell her sweet, fresh perfume, and that his arms, surrounding her torso, were pressing them close together. He cleared his throat and helped her to her feet.

He pulled her chair out for her and then sat down. “I can’t believe that actually worked, Addams.” He shook his head with a smile. “Just... warn me before you take a dive. Next time I might not catch you.”

She gave him a charming smile with twinkling eyes. “Oh, Drake. You know I like to keep you on your toes.”

He chuckled. 

That she does.

“Well, let’s examine out riches! One piping hot bowl of lobster bisque to split three ways?” Hana passed them each a spoon.

“Let’s dig in!” Riley did a little excited dance, at which Drake rolled his eyes.

They all dipped their spoons in at the same time. The bisque was incredibly flavorful and still pleasantly warm. It was perfect for this cold weather.

Drake said what they were all thinking, “This is actually really good.”

“I’m in lobster heaven,” Hana moaned in delight.

“Solid work, Addams,” said Drake, high fiving her. She returned it so enthusiastically his hand stung, but he still grinned at her.

“Yes! Thank you, Riley! We’d be lost without you!” Hana touched Riley’s forearm and the latter put her hand over hers. 

“Aw thanks guys. I’m sure the rest of the food will show up soon, anyway...”

“In the meantime, we could play a game!” Hana proposed eagerly.

“Do we have to?”

“Oh, come on, Drake, don’t be such a bummer!” Riley pushed him playfully.

“Okay, okay, I’m outnumbered. So what’s the game?”

“Two truths and a lie?” said Hana hopefully.

“I don’t know it.”

“Really? You never went to summer camp or something like that?” asked Riley. “Wait, don’t answer that, you can use it for the game. It’s really simple: you tell us two truths and one lie about yourself and then we have to guess which is the lie.”

“Got it. You start, Hana.”

“Oh, um, okay. I am an award-winning horseback rider, I am an award-winning painter and I am an award-winning skater.”

Drake and Riley turned to look at each other and burst out laughing.

“Seriously?!” Riley asked between laughs. “That’s impossible! You’re an award-winning everything! Are you sure you remembered to lie?”

Hana giggled, “I’m not! I did tell a lie! Now, guess.”

Drake and Riley’s laughs subsided and they looked at each other thoughtfully.

“I’ve seen you skate and I’m pretty sure there has to be a freaking move named after you so that’s not a lie... I’m gonna say you’re not a horseback rider, because painting seems more... you,” Drake guessed.

“Drake, Drake, Drake,” said Riley, mimicking Drake’s pitying head shakes from yesterday, “that’s where you’re wrong. You, my friend, are underestimating Hana. I think you are a skater and a horseback rider.”

“Ding, ding, ding! Riley’s right!”

Drake groaned while Riley cheered.

“Come on, Drake, painting is clearly a more recreational activity! I was obviously not allowed to practice it as much.”

“Right... obviously.”

“Okay, your turn,” Hana chirped.

“Wait! Before we go on: Drake, how would you feel about making things more interesting?” Riley arched an eyebrow at him.

“Triple or nothing?”

“You know it.”

“Two out of three of Hana’s.”

“Yep. And you’re already losing.”

Drake glared at her. “All right, here we go. I used to be scared of clowns...” Riley sniggered at this. “Used to,” Drake emphasized. “I was a Boy Scout and... my first concert was Hayley Rose.”

“What!” Riley snorted.

“Shut up,” Drake said, laughing along with her.

“Well that’s definitely true. You wouldn’t be so embarrassed if it weren’t. For the record, no judgment here.”

“Nor from me,” piped up Hana. “Mainly because... I don’t know her music.” They laughed harder then, and Riley promised to show her the best Hayley Rose songs and tell her the grisly details of her life.

“Right, so I don’t think you were ever scared of clowns, Drake. I can’t imagine you not being cynical even as a child,” shrugged Hana.

“Once again, I am the best at this game. Clearly Drake didn’t use to be afraid of clowns... he never stopped!” said Riley dramatically. “You were never a Boy Scout.”

Drake sighed, “As much as it pains me to say this... Addams is right. About the second part, I’m not afraid of clowns anymore.”

“Sure you’re not,” Riley replied with a sly smile.

“Your turn, wise guy,” said Drake.

“Okay, here goes. My favorite food is sushi, I went to a Hayley Rose concert too, and I had never been outside the US before this.”

“Easy, you’d never left the US.”

Riley gave Drake a curious look. “And why do you say that?”

He shrugged, “I know how hard it can be to travel for us commoners.”

“I disagree. I think Riley is very cultured.”

“Oh, ‘cause a commoner can’t be cultured?”

“Drake, that’s not what I–”

“Okaaay, what’s your guess, Hana?” Riley interrupted, trying to diffuse the tension.

“I don’t think your favorite food is sushi.”

“But it is! Sorry, Hana, Drake’s right. This is my first time out of the US!”

“Oh! Well, I never would have guessed, you’ve handled it really well...”

Drake let the conversation fade out until it was Hana’s turn again. After a few more turns, Hana had beat them both, but Drake had beat Riley, which was all that mattered. 

“Quadruple or nothing, Drake.”

Drake laughed and before he could answer, Hana let out a sigh, “Wow... the service here is terrible.”

“All by design,” he replied. As soon as he’d stopped laughing, his hunger had caught up with him... and it brought his temper along.

“Even if it’s on purpose, at least it’s not the worst service I’ve had,” started Hana.

“You’ve had worse service than this?” asked Riley, her eyes bugging out.

“Believe it or not, I’ve been to a wedding where food wasn’t served until midnight. They got hideously behind schedule and decided to do an open call for speeches before dinner. It took hours!”

“Oh, heavens!” exclaimed Drake in a high-pitched voice. He knew that was unnecessarily rude, but she started it with the whole commoner thing and he was hungry; personally, he felt he was doing an admirable job of keeping it together.

Riley disagreed. She shot him a reproachful look, “Drake.”

He chose to ignore her. “I can tell you a real horror story. Let’s set the scene. Casual get-together. Lots of people I don’t know, but that’s fine. There’s a bar, man’s true best friend. So I figure I’ll grab a drink. I go up to the bar, and they’re out of whiskey!” He looked at them both in turn, trying to convey the horror.

Riley rolled her eyes. “Drake, I could use some whiskey now.”

She might have been referring to how stupid his story was, but Drake decided to take it as agreement. "Now you’re speaking my language. But these dinners usually only come with some fancy wine and champagne.”

“And I have a feeling that we’d be lucky to even get water at this point,” frowned Hana.

“It’s too bad we probably won’t see a real drink at dinner. From what I’ve seen, Olivia’s got quite a stash,” shared Drake, remembering the cavernous cellar he’d found before taking his walk outside.

“From what you’ve seen?” Hana raised an inquiring eyebrow.

“I did some exploring, and I happened to stumble across her wine cellar.”

“Really?” Riley’s eyes widened; she seemed excited by the idea.

Encouraged, Drake continued, “Yeah. It’s pretty impressive, actually, and not a bad place to get away from all of this for awhile.” Before his brain caught up with his mouth, he found himself saying, “Why don’t you join me there for a drink tonight, Addams? If you’re not afraid of sneaking out after hours...”

As Riley opened her mouth to answer, a waiter dropped off two more bowls of bisque. Despite her silence, Drake didn’t think she was the type to back down from a challenge, or so he hoped. 

I have a bad feeling about this. If she says no, it’s gonna suck, and if she says yes... Whatever, I’m doing this for Liam after all, keeping her entertained and all that stuff he said. Plus, he said he’s gonna spend more time with her starting tomorrow so this is the last time I gotta do this.

He suddenly didn’t feel that hungry anymore.

“There’s no lobster in my bowl. It’s just... bisque. This is the saddest soup I’ve ever seen.” Hana sounded almost like she pitied the food.

For once, Drake wholeheartedly agreed, “I’m not usually one to complain about free food, but this is ice cold compared to what we had earlier. Which means Olivia did this on purpose.”

He had a few more spoonfuls before deciding he really couldn’t stomach any more. “At least we got to have a taste of the real meal, thanks to Riley’s quick thinking!” He shook her shoulder affectionately.

Riley slapped his hand away and took a bow. “And we know that Olivia’s intentionally screwing with us.”

As if summoned, Olivia’s voice came high and clear from the dance floor;  Drake tuned out most of her little speech, but the gist was it was time for the waltz.

Hana looked devastated. “But we haven’t finished eating!

Drake grimaced sympathetically. If there’s something he could bond over, it was disliking Olivia Nevrakis. “I don’t think she cares.”

“Well...” Riley stood up and extended both arms towards Drake and Hana, respectively, “let’s do this.”

Hana grabbed her hand, looking a lot happier than before, and stood up. When Drake didn’t do the same, she asked, “Aren’t you joining us, Drake?”

At that moment, Drake couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than to know that stupid waltz. 

Who the hell am I right now? 

“Waltzing isn’t my thing. I’ll be here with the... food,” he finished awkwardly. Riley shrugged, frowning a little, while Hana waved goodbye before heading to the dance floor.

Hana went off to dance with some lord Drake couldn’t place, and Riley paired up with Maxwell. He supposed at this point, he shouldn’t be surprised that Riley went through the waltz practically flawlessly, in spite of it being her first time dancing it. He still shook his head in astonishment. Is she good at everything?

The waltz was over sooner than he’d expected. The music lulled and there was a noise – softer than a gasp, more like a collective intake of breath. He searched the dance floor for the cause of the noise and saw Olivia kissing Liam. Before he even knew what he was doing – or why, for that matter – he had found Riley’s face in the crowd. She looked stricken. Other than that, she didn’t react much, but it was enough.

He stormed out.

How dare Liam do this?! How does he go from being all googly-eyed over Addams, to fucking her over like this? He keeps going on about duty, but I doubt his duties include exchanging spit with fucking Chucky over there. How do you even choose Olivia over Addams anyway? It’s a no-brainer.

He realized his body had taken him to his room while his mind was busy railing against Liam. He snatched a bottle of whiskey from his bag and went down to the wine cellar.

After pouring himself a drink and taking a few sips, he’d calmed down enough to recognize that Liam had almost definitely not initiated or even encouraged the kiss. It wasn’t really his fault... for the most part. Yet he still felt irritated. 

That face she made... I guess I don’t want Addams to be disappointed. She deserves better.

He heard footsteps coming downstairs. 

Speak of the Devil. 

His stomach did a weird flip. 

It’s probably ‘cause I didn’t end up eating much.

Riley poked her head around the corner. She saw him and grinned, that mischievous look in her eyes, and walked the rest of the way down.

“There you are, Addams. I was beginning to think you didn’t have the guts to show. Y’know, breaking the rules, out after curfew and all that.”

For a second, she looked like she was going to say something snarky, her hand on her hip; then she dropped it and softened her smile. “Actually, I couldn’t wait to see you again.”

It was like Drake got the wind knocked out of him. 

Who says that? Is that what friends say? 

He felt the stupidest grin spread across his face. “Aw, come on, Addams. You’re gonna make me blush.”

Riley smirked, “Now that I’d like to see.”

Drake tried not to think about how close she’d already come to seeing it and changed the subject, “So, what’re you drinking?”

“What’ve you got?”

“Nothing yet. It seems like Olivia has a very extensive collection of fine Cordonian wines. I’m no expert, but from the names I recognize, nothing in here’s under a thousand dollars!”

Riley got that rule-breaking twinkle in her eyes again, “You want to drink Olivia’s wine? Pass me a bottle! She’s got so many bottles here, she’ll probably never even notice!”

As much as Drake loved that idea, and loved that she came up with it, he didn’t want her to get in trouble. Olivia was already unpleasant to her, to say the least. “Before you pop something open, I also brought a bottle of whiskey down for myself... but I’d share it with you. So pick your poison.”

Riley didn’t hesitate, “Whiskey.”

Drake nodded approvingly and poured her and himself a glass. They were about to clink glasses when Riley said, “Wait, we have to make eye contact, otherwise it’s 7 years of bad sex.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I don’t make the rules.”

“You literally just did.”

“Fine, if you wanna risk it that’s on you, but I’m gonna look you in the eye, got it?”

“Okay, I’ll do it,” grumbled Drake. “This is stupid, for the record.”

“You’re welcome for saving your sex life.”

“Cheers.”

They clinked their glasses while looking fixedly into each other’s eyes, both smiling at first. They gradually got serious and the silence seemed to become loaded. Drake was the first to look away.

“So,” said Riley a little awkwardly. “You came down to the wine cellar to drink whiskey? Doesn’t that seem a little silly?”

Drake shrugged, “I came down here to get a little commoner time by myself where I don’t have to bow and kiss hands for a few minutes.”

“Drake, if you hate the nobility so much, why do you stick around?”

Funnily enough, no one had ever asked him that question. He stalled, “It must seem ridiculous to you.”

Riley put her hand on her hip. “To be honest, it seems like you complain a lot for getting a free ride.”

Drake’s mouth dropped. He knew a lot of people thought that, hell, some even said it to his face, but they did it to hurt him, not because they were being honest. 

“That’s...” He laughed a little, “I guess that’s kind of true... I would’ve left a long time ago, but Liam needs me. I know he’s got nobles and courtiers all around him, but most of them would stab him in the back if they thought they could profit from it. I’ve seen so many underhanded moves that I don’t trust any of them anymore.” He remembered the stupid tabloid pictures and the practically nonexistent likelihood that they were being sold by a stranger. “And these are from our friends! And this latest one...”

“What happened?” Riley asked, concern lacing her voice.

I need to learn to shut up. Especially around Addams. 

“I... I’m not sure I should tell you. It’s still being resolved.”

“You’re always saying I need to watch out... it’d be nice to actually know what for.”

Again, she hit the nail on the head. It was only fair. “You remember Liam’s bachelor party?”

“Of course.”

“We found out that someone close to us that night was trying to sell pictures to the tabloids.”

Riley’s eyes widened, incredulous. “But who? Who would do that?”

Drake frowned. “We haven’t tracked down the source yet, but I just got a message from Bastien that we were able to buy the photos back before they were printed.”

Riley tilted her head. “Call me crazy, but I don’t remember anything scandalous happening...”

“You know how the tabloids are.” Drake shook his head. “A picture with a drink in his hand, and suddenly the crown prince of Cordonia is on a drunken rager. And then there’s pictures of the two of you together.”

“What? But we weren’t...” Riley trailed off, blushing.

“The two of you were talking, and he was clearly interested in you. That’s enough for them to speculate on. What was the headline the tabloid was going to run? ‘Prince Liam’s Drunken Fling Before the Ring!’”

Riley put her hand over her mouth. “And you have no idea who would do this?”

“Not really. There are a lot of people who would be desperate for those photos... I just hope it wasn’t one of the guys. The pictures they had... Those would’ve been hard to take unless that person were someone close to us...”

If anything good was going to come out of this mess, he was relieved that Riley was probably going to be more cautious. She said, “Drake, I’ll watch out.” And touched his arm reassuringly.

“Good. Money and power make people do crazy things, Addams. I just don’t want to see you get hurt because of it,” he said earnestly.

She gave him a soft smile, touched that he cared, “Drake...”

“I mean, sometimes, I look at you... and I see this wide-eyed baby deer who just stumbled into the hunter’s campsite.” He ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing with everything that could go wrong.

He was interrupted by Riley saying, “A baby deer? So you think I’m cute?” She gave him a teasing smile.

The honest answer was yes, he’d literally thought that yesterday, but he didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. His brain jammed, “That’s not what I... er...”

Riley bit her lip to keep from laughing as she paced in front of him, “My, my, seems like for once you’re speechless.”

“Your unique talent, Addams, seems to be putting me in my place.”

“Someone’s gotta do it.”

Drake laughed loudly. When she joined in, the sound of her laughter sobered him up and he looked at her with intensity. “What is it about you? You’re so frustrating, but...”

“But?”

I keep coming back. I want more. 

He was terrified.

He shook his head, “Forget it. How about a toast, instead?” He raised his glass towards her.

“What’re we toasting to?”

He thought about it. How could he explain what this little getaway – their last one – meant to him without saying something stupid? “To the moments in between.”

“Huh?”

“All the nobles think about are the big events. The grand balls, the press appearances, the banquets...” He thought about Liam and his face fell for a split second. He used to spend moments like this with him a lot more often. He couldn’t help but feel that, despite all of his wealth and upbringing, he was missing out on a lot.

“They don’t even realize that the moments that matter the most are all the ones they’re missing. Moments like right now, just the two of us and some cheap whiskey. The ones that really mean something.” It was too late to take it back, but he didn’t want to be presumptuous; for all he knew, she had nothing better to do or just wanted whiskey. “At least, it means something to me, anyway.”

She was much closer than he’d realized. She looked up at him and said, so sincerely, “Drake, it means something to me too.”

Wordlessly, they raised they glasses and clinked them. This time looking each other in the eye not because of superstition, but because they wanted to.

As they brought their respective glasses to their lips, Drake said, “To the moments in between.”

They finished their drink and Drake looked at his phone. He should go. He was glad he’d made their last moment in between a good one, at least.

“Now, it’s getting late, and I don’t want to get you in any trouble.”

Riley gave him a small smile, “That’s so thoughtful of you.”

“I’m a gentleman, even if not one by birth.” He bowed at her and smiled back. “G’night, Addams.”

“Good night, Drake.”

[jeonminhao]

Something To Lean On [ All BTS Members ]

BTS MEMBERS | 1519 WORDS  | ANGST, FLUFF

Pieces of You Drabble Series

12.  “This bar table. This bathroom walls. Even without you, I have things to lean on.”

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a.n. i’m sorry Jimin

 One day after Jimin packed up his bag and left, she found herself curled up in her bed, snuggled under thick layers of blanket, crumpled tissues scattered all around her. Her eyes were swollen and red after hours of crying and the tears had dried up, leaving salty tracks on her cheeks and the pain was too much she could no longer feel it. She felt numb and dehydrated and she should’ve probably go out of her room and drink some water to relieve her from the headache. But she stayed rooted on her spot on the bed, trying her best to ignore the pounding headache and her sore throat. She reached out her hand to the other side of the bed, finding it empty and cold, a reminder of what happened last night. Jimin had been waiting for her to come home from work just to tell her about his plan to leave her, and her first reaction was to laugh. It took her a few minutes to realized he was serious, another minute to muttered the word, ‘why’, and the next ten minutes to stood in front of the doorway, watching Jimin packed up his stuff into the brown duffle bag. She didn’t cry when he whispered more apologies for broken promises and for falling out of love with her and for falling in love with another person. She didn’t cry when he said his goodbye and left the apartment, the sound of the closing door reverberating through the room. The tears started to fall down her cheeks once she snapped out of her thoughts, finally realizing how empty the apartment was. She crumbled to the floor like a rag doll, struggling to breathe between her sobbing.

Taehyung was the one who barged into her apartment hours later and found her sitting on the wooden floor of her bedroom, her lap covered with old pictures of Jimin and her.

“He told you.” It was a statement. Taehyung bit his lips and nodded, face void of any other emotion other than sympathy.

“I’m sorry.” Taehyung tried to smile.

“It’s not your fault.”

A long silence passed before he grabbed her arms and helped her up, the photos left ignored on the floor. She was too tired to pull away and let him dragged her to the bathroom. He washed her face with cold water and helped her brush her teeth, lips pressed into a thin line when she turned to him with hollow eyes. 

. 

One week after Jimin left, [Y/N] found herself sitting on the café she used to go to with Jimin, a cup of hot coffee on the table. She was lost in her thoughts when she heard someone settled on the empty chair in front of her. Startled, her eyebrows crinkled in confusion at the sight of her childhood friend, Yoongi, who was supposed to be in Los Angeles, composing a song for a famous artist.

“How’s the song going?” She asked him, wondering if he finished his work earlier than scheduled.

“I’m Min Yoongi.” He replied, as if his name was enough of an answer. She smiled, her first genuine smile since her break-up.

“Guess they fired you.” She joked, earning a glare from her friend. “Did you get me anything?”

“Does me stealing your mixtape and showing them to a famous producer count as a present?” Yoongi grinned, enjoying the way her jaw dropped and eyes widened in surprise.

“What?”

“They love it and they want to know if you want to do collaboration with them.” Yoongi explained. He held up his hand before she could protest. “I know you were too scared to send your demo to music companies and I’m sorry for stealing them. But you know you’ll never send it on your own and I want people to know my best friend is a genius lyricist and has a beautiful voice.”

He brushed back his platinum blonde hair and gave her a small smile. “You deserve more, [Y/N].”

She looked away when the fondness in his eyes became too much for her, eyes brimming with fresh tears.

“Please don’t cry. They’re gonna think I’m an asshole.” Yoongi groaned.

“You are, though.” She pointed out, lips curled into a small smile when Yoongi got up from his seat and moved his seat next to hers. She let Yoongi pulled her into a hug, sighing in relief at the familiar warmth. Yoongi always knew how to make her feel less like shit despite his lack of comforting words.

“Thank you.” She mumbled against his shirt.

.

One month after the breakup, Hoseok and Jin dragged her to a newly opened club near their place with a promise of fun night and lots of dancing. She thought it would be a great idea to forget the dull pain in her heart. So she put on her nicest clothes and left the apartment with Jin and Hoseok who looked excited to have her out of the apartment. She ended up drinking too much alcohol and throwing up in the bathroom of the club, hands clutching the toiled seat like her life depended on it. Jungkook, who arrived after his work ended, held her hair and rubbed her back gently.

“That’s disgusting.” He commented as he led her out of the toilet stall to wash her face on the sink.

“No one asked you to be here, Kookie.” She retorted, earning a small chuckle from Jungkook.

“I don’t feel so good.” [Y/N] mumbled as she sat on the marble floor, eyes glazed with remnants of alcohol in her system. Jungkook moved to sit next to her, letting her rest her head on his shoulder.

“You’re gonna have a nasty hangover tomorrow.”

“My heart still hurts.” She said quietly as she played with the hem of her blouse. Jungkook took her hand and use the other hand to pat her hair.

“You have us.” Was all he said.

They sat in the bathroom floor for another half an hour before Hoseok and Jin stormed inside with worries plastered all over their faces. The four of them ended up sitting on the floor for a good hour, making weird jokes and ignoring the irritated looks from other people, before someone came and kicked them out of the club.

.

One year after Jimin said he found someone else, Yoongi barged into her apartment with two envelopes in his hand, eyes filled with newfound anger when he mentioned his name.

“Are you going to come?”

“Maybe.” She shrugged, eyes still fixed on the beautiful cursive words on the page.

‘We request the honor of your presence at the marriage of Park Jimin and …..’

“Do I have to come too?” Yoongi childishly mumbled as he made himself comfortable in the messy living room.

“Everyone is coming, Yoongi.”

“Is he going to come as your plus one?” He asked as his anger slowly vanished, the displeasure in his voice replaced by amusement at the sight of her slightly flushed cheeks. She shrugged and put the invitation on the table.

“He will, if you don’t drag him to the studio to work on a new song.” Yoongi grinned at her answer and leaned back on the couch.

A month later, [Y/N] found herself sitting on a white wooden pew, gazed fixed on the couple standing in front of the altar. The dull pain in her heart had been reduced to almost nothing. Sometimes she could still feel it, the little twist in her heart, but the pain was bearable and she could go on with her day without breaking down in tears. It was like the scar on her knee that never really went away and became a slight inconvenience.

“I’m hungry.” A voice beside her whispered. She turned and found Namjoon grinning down at her.

“Shut up, Namjoon.” She muttered back, lips curled into a smile when Namjoon started to play with her hand.

“We should get burgers later.”

“Pizza’s better.”

“Rock, paper, scissors and winner gets to choose?”

“Guys, you need to shut the fuck up before the priest kick you out of the church.” Yoongi hissed from behind them.

“I vote for burgers.” Taehyung excitedly whispered from her left.

“Pizza for me.” Hoseok added, followed by Jungkook, who looked like he had been starving for days.

“I was planning on taking her only.” Namjoon scowled.

“Like a date?” Yoongi raised his eyebrows.

“Maybe.”

[Y/N] turned to him with flushed cheeks and watched the latter squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.

“I love you but you have the shittiest timing, Joonie.” Jin finally added his two-cents.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Excuse me, can you please keep it down?” A sudden angry whisper broke their hushed discussion and everyone’s attention quickly went back to the couple who were in the middle of reciting their vows. [Y/N] slowly reached out to her right and took Namjoon’s hand, ignoring Namjoon’s stare.

“Yes.” She mumbled, voice almost inaudible for Namjoon to hear. But he did and the smile he gave her in return was worth the burgers and stomach ache she got the next day.