Halsey Drabbles for @riighteouson because why not?
Drive
All we do is drive... It’s dead silent between them, as always. Not a word passes from her mouth and the same goes for him. It’s just the hum of the engine, the steady sound of quiet breaths, and the radio turned down low. Low enough to the point where the song is barely audible, barely even there.
Over analyze again...
Her hands rest on the wheel, not gently, but with a death grip. Although her eyes are trained straight ahead on the never ending pavement path, her mind is elsewhere, as it always is when he is around. All of her attention goes towards deciphering the hidden language laced between his sentences. The inflections, the pauses, the tones-- He was never direct, never made things easy for her. After every encounter, she needed hours of alone time to sift through their conversations, picking out the pieces that gave her any sort of inclination to what he thought of her under that bad mouth of his.
Sick and full of pride...
He would never admit to it, the huntress was sure of that factor. This was Ben. Yet, she wouldn’t dare say it either. Vocalizing her feelings, her worries, her fierce loyalty to him was deadly. It would give him power. It would make her weak. She was the Queen of the Hunters. A ruthless and unforgiving leader to those who stepped out of line. All of her subjects viewed her as a stone statue, poised and emotionless. The moment a single whisper would slip out about her possible affection towards Dean Winchester’s son would spell disaster to the empire she inherited. And hunters couldn’t love. It was an unofficial rule. Do not fall in love.
God if he knew, the hell that would rain down... He could walk out. He could never let her live that fact down, torture her with it every day, make it the butt of every one of his jokes. He would twist her, break her, remind her of the promise she made to herself when she was sixteen about never doing this again. Ever.
Illuminated in the light...
She tells herself over and over, like a mantra, you don’t love him, you don’t love him, you--
Somehow though, her eyes flicker over to the man next to her. Fast asleep in the passenger seat of her truck, head resting on his hand, cheek pressed against the window pane, for once looking peaceful.
You love him.
There’s a burn in her chest. Not the painful kind she feels when anxiety crawls it’s way up her throat. The kind that a warm fire in the dead of winter gives her. The homey, safe feeling, where nothing could go wrong so long as that wood keeps on burning. It creeps from her heart to her fingertips and toes till she wants to wake him, to grab him by his face, make sure his irises don’t stray from hers and tell him--
All we do is drive...
Young God
Oh baby girl, we’re gonna be legends...
Werewolf alphas bowed in her presence. Ghosts told others about the woman of the night who came silently. Even hunters, the most ruthless bunch of people, they trembled in her wake, they feared her. She was always at the front of the battle lines, a fierce warrior the goddess Artemis herself would’ve worshipped.
The way her chest heaved as she rose to her feet, the red flush in her cheeks, the blood trail dripping down her lip... She was something. Despite having been thrown around, having expended a majority of her energy in this fight, she still stood tall in the end. She reigned supreme over any monster who dared to challenge her authority. She was Bobby Singer’s daughter, and she was born to be a Queen.
I’m a King and you’re a Queen...
One wouldn’t have been surprised at the man by her side through everything. Some people called him a wanna-be, having shackled up next to a woman of great power, hoping to take some of it from her. He was only well known for the questionable lineage he had, the possible rights to a throne through distant blood. Like any bastard would, he set his eyes on the Queen. There were plenty of rumors going around, each of them painting a different story as to why a possible son of a Winchester would be so tight with a Singer. But they didn’t know the true story, none of them did. They only took what they saw for face value. The arguing, the bitter words shot back and forth between them. They only saw the anger, the bickering.
The two of us are just Young Gods...
They didn’t see the force of nature to be reckoned with when the two lineages came together in a hunt. A well versed machine, needing no cogs, no triggers to work seamlessly. It was though the universe had delicately crafted them piece by piece so they were a perfect complement. A perfect nightmare to anyone who decided to pick a fight.
Griffon Singer and Benjamin Braeden, Queen and King of the hunters.














