#would be nice to do this when I am nor drowning in stuff to study

[greenchilypepper]

I have like 4 exams coming up but ya know, perfect time for some andreil. Here they are peacefully sleeping unlike me.

#andrew minyard #neil josten #all for the gay #andreil #fan art #the foxhole court #aftg fanart #aftg andrew #aftg neil #aftg andreil #aftg art #aftg series #tfc #aftg #it seems like the more I‘m busy in my life the more I need to draw #would be nice to do this when I am nor drowning in stuff to study

[strawberryvanillablast]

I Want To Make You Proud Of Me (Pannacotta Fugo X Reader)

For @nucleusbucciarati​ 

Sorry. Couldn’t find a gif that perfectly fits. Enjoy him with his Purple Haze boi :D

. 

It was no secret that Pannacotta Fugo was a man who had high expectations. It would be expected due to his past and even though he escaped from the tense, strict high society world, it still followed him even to this day. This expectation in how he treated his peers varied depending on his mood, but it usually was high. And nobody tested his patience like this more than Narancia. 

And yet, and yet, it was this expectation that made [Y/N] fall for him and fall for him hard. [Y/N] wanted to be the person who could meet Fugo’s high standard and exceed it, be it in sports, academics, or anything else. Fugo was someone that [Y/N] respected in full and idolized more than anyone else. And so, [Y/N]’s resolve to become an over-achiever for Pannacotta Fugo burned brilliantly. 

. 

[Y/N] yawned and stretched their arms as they made their way out of the library. They had finished reading a very interesting book on the marine life within all of the Italian seas. They hadn’t known of all the interesting ins and outs and it was a real eye-opener. [Y/N]’s heart skipped a beat as they saw Fugo at the driver’s seat. They avoided their crush’s eyes as they sat down next to him and the car, a nice and cozy van, sped over to the villa. 

[Y/N] sighed a soft little sigh as they looked out the window, cheek on their palm and thinking about what they just read. As a group of dolphins swam past them, [Y/N] grinned and informed Fugo of what they just read about this particular set. They continued and continued, never really noticing the wide-eyed awe that the boy looked at them with. Nor did they really notice the small smile Fugo sported on his face. It wasn’t until a couple of more minutes that [Y/N] trailed, which was saddening to Fugo a little. 

[Y/N] was slowly dreading going back to the villa. What they didn’t tell Fugo was that the reason they went to the library at all was because they wanted to drown their sorrows in potentially interesting information that they hadn’t learned about at all and distract themselves from the scoring that they placed today. They had, for the whole week, studied with as much effort as they possibly could. However they had only achieved second place and a 91%. They hung their head low, not wanting Fugo to find out. 

But fate had other plans. 

As they piled out of the van, [Y/N]’s bookbag tumbled out, revealing a myriad of papers. They gasped out in fright and sweated as they saw Fugo pick up those papers slowly. Fidgeting, they tried to concoct a plan to explain what the papers were, but all of that was thrown out the window as they saw Fugo give a smile. 

“Are these your papers,” Fugo gently asked. “Because if they are, then they are wonderful!” 

...

Huh? 

[Y/N] stood there, stock still, as they watched the smile on Fugo’s face broaden. There was a lightness that settled into their chest as they watched those purple eyes light up with proud admiration. At least, they thought it was proudness and admiration that was there. 

“You...You mean it, Fugo,” [Y/N] hesitantly ventured. “I...Are you sure?” 

“Why, of course I’m sure,” Fugo replied with that oh-so rare grin that made their heart all aflutter. Then, he frowned. “Why do you ask?” 

“Because I...I didn’t place in first,” [Y/N] whispered. “I tried my best, too. But I... I just couldn’t do so.” They clenched their shaking fists and took deep breaths. “At present, all I am is just second. And...And I wanted to make you proud of me...I... I...”  

“Stop, [Y/N]. Just because you did not place in first does not mean that I am not proud of you.” Fugo stepped towards them and gently held their chin, looking at their wonderful (e/c) orbs. “As far as I can tell, you work hard and do your best.” He smiled. “And if anything else, I value hard work and effort above everything.” 

“...What about Narancia,” [Y/N] raised an eyebrow. “You get mad at him when he answers stuff wrong.” 

“Yeah, that,” Fugo sighed. “I think Narancia is a smart guy, but he just does not want to learn.” He then smiled softly. “But you, [Y/N], you work hard and even if things don’t work out for you, you just keep on doing what you need to do.” The boy smiled and gently pecked [Y/N] on the cheek. “And for all that and more for the future, I’m so proud of you.” 

[Y/N] squealed and happily hugged Fugo. They felt amazingly wonderful, as the lightness made them feel as if they were on air. Fugo himself smiled for what he said was no mere lip-service. Indeed, he saw how hard [Y/N] worked, whether it be sports, academics, and even miscellaneous information like the dolphins. 

“Thank you, Fugo,” [Y/N] chirped. “It really makes me happy to hear that.” 

“No problem, [Y/N], no problem,” Fugo replied. “Now, let’s pick these papers up. And maybe you can tell me more about the dolphins and other marine life that I have no prior knowledge of.” 

“Oh, trust me, Panna,” [Y/N] cheekily grinned, a twinkle in their eye. “I have more information than you might possibly know!” 

#JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #JoJo no Kimyō na Bōken #jojo pt 5 #jojo part 5 #vento aureo #golden wind #pannacotta fugo #jjba x reader #reader #pannacotta fugo x reader

[gabriel4sam]

Not love at first sight (But love at the sixty-third life defying idiocy), a CodyWan story

Written for @swbigbang, with the help of @kitcatkim in the role of the patient beta and @outernorth for artist (art just there)

Because all the other members of their small outpost were not in shape (read, hungover), Cody and Obi-Wan go on a small, simple, totally not possibilities of explosions supply run.

Cody comes back with a headache the size of Coruscant, a new hate of insectoids life. And a brand new significant other, in the shape of his exasperating General

 It’s not a hangover, it’s a hecatomb. Whatever Boil had put in his new still was a terrible, terrible idea. The entire Separatist Council could do pointes in tutus on the flight deck and the vode would neither see it, nor care about it.

Cody and Obi-Wan were the only ones not drinking the day before, them and the communication officers on duty. The communication officers because they were working, and Cody and Obi-Wan, well, because they like the occasion for the men to feel free, and they can’t with their superior officers in their company.

That doesn’t mean the men are supposed to feel free enough to incapacitate the whole bunch of idiots they are apparently in charge off.

“Latrine duties, the first time we do planet fall. The whole of them.” Cody grumbles, assessing the damage with a cold, clinical eye.

“How does that even work? Does every man have latrine duties for his own latrines? Do you make them install as many latrines as they are? ” Obi-Wan remarks. He’s the usual calm and composed Jedi Master Cody knows on the outside, but the Commander is pretty sure he’s laughing on the inside. Cody had met Quinlan Vos, ok? And he poured enough hard liquor in the man to obtain confidences. Confidences which horrified him, Obi-Wan had even less survival instincts than Cody thought, but confidences he can’t un-hear. He will know forever!

Or at least, he will know until a luckier droid kills him. Cody is not an optimist about clones living long, happy, fulfilling lives. He has eyes after all and a functioning brain.

Cody glares at Obi-Wan, just in case. He has learnt, in the two years since he took his position with his General, that Jedi react pretty well to glaring. Not that it stops them from doing stupid stuff, but at least, they feel guilty about it.

If they like the glaring party only. Commander Ponds had a lot of things to narrate about Mace Windu and the horrible, horrible conglomerate mogul.

Obi-Wan takes his most innocent air, something Cody stopped believing two days in their acquaintance, when his newly minted General had destroyed a whole block of warehouses on an unnamed moon and made a grown Hutt call for its parent. It had been a bad month for Obi-Wan. No need to judge. When innocents are in danger, the cost of the repairs is less a problem and more a number for the politicians to handle. And yes, Obi-Wan knows the money used could certainly be used in other useful ways, but no amount of credits could ever buy a life, in the eyes of a Jedi. But that day, when Cody, after a few, very stressful hours of radio-silence, had finally gotten back his General, slightly charred, the hostages, hungry and thirsty and exhausted but all of them in one piece, and a terrified Hutt, in the middle of a devastated battleground, he had understood better the warning of Alpha-17. There, Cody had sworn in petto to never underestimate his Jedi, despite the irreproachable manners, the swishing hair and the smile of a holo-star.

Together, they take the time to check every soldier, to make sure nobody was busy drowning in their own fluid because they were too hangover/still drunk, to roll over. Everybody is alive, and the communication officers are getting ready to do a double shift, and ready to nib their vode about it later.

“It’s a good thing we’re on down time,” Obi-Wan remarks, “I must confess, despite the talents of your brothers, I’m not quite sure we could withstand an attack from Grievous and his various cronies right now.”

“We would get our asses handed to us, you mean.”

“Exactly.”

Obi-Wan cautiously touches  one of the abandoned drink containers, with more care than he gives to explosives.

“What did he put in this thing?” he asks, fascinated.

“You’re not testing it!” Cody immediately retorts, because he knows his Jedi, “not in the name of science, curiosity or whatever.”

Obi-Wan touches the container a second time.

Cody could swear the thing moves in return, like it wants to be pet. Obi-Wan hums, his face interested and he leans a little more in the direction of the container. If the thing starts growing whatever strange means of locomotion is on its mind, Cody is using his blaster, no matter the General’s opinion. That’s how bad holo-dramas start, with an unknown thing unleashed on an unsuspecting ship/outpost/space station. He refuses to star in one of those plot-lacking dramas his brother Wolffe pretends he doesn’t love.

The thing doesn’t move anymore and Obi-Wan loses interest and goes back to helping troopers into their quarters and their bunks.

Cody helps, but that doesn’t mean he’s not plotting terrible retributions. He knows the last few weeks have been pretty hard, the hardest in a long time, that’s one of the reasons Obi-Wan and himself made themselves scarce last night. 

Now, they have a week just waiting for the Negotiator to come pick them up. One week for the men to rest and to heal and perhaps to train lightly…but that’s no reason for the sort of screw-up Cody is seeing right now. Boil and his still should be transferred from the 501th and put into whatever part of the army that handles studies about biological warfare. Biological warfare that the Republic officially doesn’t indulge in, studying it only as a way to protect its worlds against it. But Cody isn’t convinced. He has a lot of questions he will never ask about parts of the army which are not led by Jedi, and that the Jedi are trying, with no success, to have access too. Obi-Wan has promoted him so much that the Commander now has access to documents he’s pretty sure nobody thought a clone ever would. He’s staying silent for now. If the Jedi need help with that, if they fail, the vode will try, but Cody is keeping this ammunition in reserve. He can only fire it once, because when natural-borns who aren’t Jedi realize exactly how much power Obi-Wan and the Jedi council has given him and some of the other commanders, they will try to strip them of it, he just knows it.

At the end, everybody is moaning in their bunks, or manning communication, and Cody and Obi-Wan raid the nice rations, the ones with the green seals, no less food of unkown origins than the rest of it, but certainly the tastiest. They sit down at the entry of the outpost, sharing a canteen of water between them. They don’t talk, most of the time they don’t need to.

Cody isn’t really hungry but it’s easier to trick Obi-Wan into eating something when those who surround him do too. The warmth of the sun, the sounds of nature, the nice, and so rare, oh so rare, knowledge that they have a little free time instead of having to run to put out another fire. All of this is making Obi-Wan soften, like a carving of stone suddenly becoming pliable.

“Commander?” Cody’s holocom disturbs them, and Cody startles, suddenly realizing he was lost in the light playing into the copper of Obi-Wan’s hair.

“It’s nothing, really nothing probably,” the shiny in charge of this particular console explains to them, “ one of the new models of probes  should have been back twenty minutes ago. I tried to raise it per the procedure, but it isn’t answering.”

“We’re supposed to be alone on this world,” Obi-Wan remarks, a line forming between his brows.

“They are still working the kicks out of this model,” the shiny admits, “that’s why we used them specifically on this planet where they are in no danger. We’re supposed to go back with all of them, for study, to hammer out the last problems.”

The line between the General’s brows is growing deeper.

“I will make a report to the Council about the danger it could pose to you, to send any vode on the field with materials not totally ready, and the Jedi Order will issue a formal protest.” His shoulders are tense. No matter the number of tries, the Jedi are blocked at every corner in the Senate in their efforts to better the life of the clones, even in the small things and it’s a terrible possibility that this time will be the same.

“You know what? We should go check ourselves,” Cody decides, because he wants to erase that line, that tension. “Since Boil poisoned the men, we could do it. A little trek in fresh air before breathing the recycled air in the Negotiator again.”

“Oh Cody, I can do it myself,” Obi-Wan offers immediately, “you don’t have a lot of free time-“

“Funny, I would have sworn you didn’t know the concept…”

“I am perfectly capable of knowing when my body needs down time.”

“That’s not what Master Erin said.”

And that’s how they leave the base.

It’s almost noon, birds or other small things Cody can’t honestly identify are chirping, the air is crisp and fresh, and the sky is only slightly purple, with no risk of rain. No matter how many worlds he sees, Cody is still out of countenance on worlds where the combination of gases in the atmospheres and stars emitting other waves than the Kamino sun combine to give entire landscapes strange colours. Most of the time, he’s wearing his helmet which filters the strangeness of it, and it’s only at the end of the battle, when he takes it off, that he realizes everything is weirdly green-tainted.

Also, he’s pretty sure Arc Trooper Fives was lying when he told him once he visited a world on a body guarding mission with his own Jedi were everything was glittering. He’s not putting any money on it, because Skywalker and his men were guarding the Naboo Senator. From what Cody observes, when Naboo people enter the scene, glitter just happens. He also thinks Fives is much better being Rex’s problem than his own.

Most of their supplies have already been packed for retrieval, so Cody and Obi-Wan only took one hover bike out, and for now Obi-Wan is piloting, Cody behind, and the Commander is beginning to think he made a tactical error. The plastoid of his armour is supposed to stop him from feeling Obi-Wan’s warmth, but Cody could swear he can still feel it. For all that the Jedi can seem aloof and strange, nothing makes him remember his General is flesh and blood than encircling a linen-warped waist with his arms.

 The world passes around them, the colours of the trees, the playful course of the clouds in the sky, the peaceful scenery of a wild world, with its inherent qualities and defaults. Cody likes those worlds better, untouched by sentient life. Growing up in the sterility of Kamino, there is something intoxicating in nature running its course, forests giving way to meadows, biotopes decided by climates and geology, and not by a careful hand arranging them for the maximal profits in their exploitation.

Cody understands about the need for fresh territory, with the growth of population, but certainly, certainly the most carefully hidden part of him insists quite vehemently, there must be another solution than the desolation of grey and pollution that is Coruscant. Something else than seeing the poorest people of the Republic living in deplorable conditions, never seeing the fresh green of a new leaf, as the richest ones can sample the delights of nature in carefully constructed reserves?

More and more, Cody is curious about the Agricorps, and their works to restore degraded biotopes, but he had the vague impression, when he asked questions about it to his General, that it’s a difficult subject for him.

Probably, Obi-Wan wanted to go into the Agricorps and they didn’t want him to, for whatever reasons. Cody thinks it’s more glorious to restore nature and to help feed a community than to go to war, like Obi-Wan is doing right now, or to negotiate treaties, which he vaguely thinks is Obi-Wan’s job in time of peace.

Cody’s thoughts drift gently as the journey continues, going from nature’s beauty to the exact shade of Obi-Wan’s hair when he has been under a natural sun for more than a few hours. The way the copper of it becomes richer and richer…. After a little less than two hours, they switch pilots, and Cody does his best to keep his thoughts on track. It would be stupid to crash just because he’s distracted by a flight of birds taking off with the noise of the bikes, no matter how graceful they are. He concentrates on piloting, and not on the presence of Obi-Wan behind him, his arms around Cody, and not in the colours of the forest around them, and the bucolic impression of their little expedition.

The last known position of their wayward probe put it next to a small lake, four hours away on hover bike, at the base of the mountainous regions. If this part of the world was in winter season, the most logical reason for their missing probe would be a mudslide.  Cody told in his reports time and time again that the probes should fly higher, that the field itself is much less friendlier than believed in the labs, but apparently nobody listens to him.

It’s the end of spring on this part of the planet, the probe was probably eaten by a giant fish, or something equally undignified.

They unseat on a single beach, the last known location. No more probe there than dignity and decency in the Senate. Nothing. No blackened hull of the thing if it had exploded under mysterious circumstances, best known as shoddy work in the conception. Not even a trace they could track back.

Cody turns on himself, surveying the landscape. Vegetation, mountains, peaceful lapping of water on the beach, more mountains with their snowy capes, a lot of weird looking trees. For a vacation, it would be peaceful. For missing military equipment, it’s sadly lacking.

“By incredible luck, you wouldn’t sense our missing flying friend in the Force?” Cody asks, because that would simplify things. That would simplify things, so of course the answer is no. As Obi-Wan struggles with putting together the scanner, Cody gathers pieces of driftwood, intending to start a fire. If they have to circle on foot, on uneven ground, to find the probes, nothing says they can’t do it after another meal next to a warm fire. In the harsh reality of war, Cody has learnt to wisely enjoy the few moments of peace, and he would very much like to teach that skill to his General. Obi-Wan is supposed to have decades of experience in him, but apparently he’s not aware that every sentient has their limits.

Cody is less than twenty meters from the Jedi and the hoverbike, facing Obi-Wan, his arms already full of a nice load when he sees Obi-Wan let go of the scanner, which tumbles on the stones, and turns to him, a hand already at his waist, reaching for his lightsaber.

“Cod-“ Obi-Wan yells, but the sound doesn’t reach Cody, as the stones give way under him, shifting in a dip of grey sand and Cody is gulped down like Master Yoda gobbles a small fish.

For a second, he can’t breathe, there is sand everywhere around him, on his skin, in his mouth, infiltrating his armour by the neck, and the wood in his arms squeeze against his ribs. He feels he’s gonna get crushed alive and he struggles with all his strength. Death has always been the end but he wanted to leave in combat. He can feel unconsciousness threatening and just before it would take him, he’s spit up violently and he rolls over with the momentum, the driftwood, the sand, and a few bits of the armour which didn’t survive the experience.

He can see someone lean over him, no more than a silhouette, because it’s so dark, he can feel the sand under his head, and also the head wound and the blood seeping out of it, and he takes a long breath, and it burns, all the way to his lungs, and then he knows no more.

For a long time, Cody floats. He dreams. Or he hallucinates.

He’s on Kamino again and he learns the world is without mercy for him and his brothers.

He’s training and he can feel Alpha-17’s eyes on him, pensive.

He’s very young and he doesn’t understand where the last of his batche went.

He’s older and he’s meeting his first Jedi, General Tii, and she always has a nice word for every clone, but her eyes are terribly sad every step she takes on Kamino.

He’s meeting Rex and their friendship soars instantly.

He’s seeing brothers dying and he’s seeing rescues and the world is a never ending war, but Cody refuses to let that be the only thing his brothers will know. He watches and he checks and he learns and he places his brothers the best he can, and he’s evaluating Jedi and people, and planets and his mind never stops.

Cody wakes up. General Plo Koon is leaning over him and Cody lets relief seize him, until he realizes something is wrong. No eye covers, no breathing masks, and as much as Cody can see in the very low light, the thick leathery hide acting as skin is much lighter than Plo Koon’s. A Kel Dor, but not the Jedi Master that the Wolffe’s pack would follow to the end of the galaxy and beyond.

After a few seconds of his brain going round in circles, it finally stops at a very important point: Kel Dor and humans don’t breathe the same atmosphere, and this Kel Dor is without breathing apparels. Cody goes to put a hand on his mouth in instinctual movement, like he could stop himself from suffocating, but the other lays a hand on Cody’s forearm, his entire body language non-threatening, and says something he can’t understand. That’s when Cody realizes something translucent is surrounding his head, like a bubble inflating and deflating with every breath he takes. He pokes it, very carefully. It’s flexible, slightly sticky and it smells earthy, a little like those mushrooms his General insisted he try once, when he took him to his friend Dex dinner.

Cody takes a careful breath. He doesn’t die in terrible suffering, so he takes another one. The air entering his lungs still seems appropriate for his species. He tries to sit up, moving very slowly to make the stranger understand he’s not attacking, and the Kel Dor helps him.

Seated, he can better observe the place around him. He has been placed on a pallet of light fur, in some sort of carved place, the walls decorated, not in paint, but in carving, and his armour is against one of the walls, carefully stacked. Cody wants to touch his head, where he was hurt, but once again the Kel Dor stops him before he touches the bubble. The only light comes from a small clay bowl full of sizzling oil, where a wick has been adapted. It doesn’t give enough light to help Cody see more than the small room and a crude overture in the stone, leading to more darkness. He can’t even study perfectly the features of the Kel Dor, more than to be sure it’s definitely not Master Koon.

The Kel Dor says something again and Cody makes a frustrated noise.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak your language.” The other doesn’t seem to understand that, so Cody tries Mando’a, with the same result. 

He tries the Galactic Sign Language, no results. 

He knows a few signs of the Alderaan Sign Language, the one from their Southern Hemisphere. Queen Organa taught him a few lessons once during a lockdown in the Royal Palace when he was guarding her, between grumbling about clones’s rights and what her husband better do about it in the Senate, and Cody learns fast. The Kel Dor still doesn’t react in any useful way.

“A common language would be pretty useful to know if I’m your guest or your prisoner,” Cody jokes. Sarcasm now. He’s spending too much time with his General.

He shifts, trying to see if he will be stopped from standing, but the other only helps him, carefully arranging on Cody’s torso the ending of the bubble. Now that Cody studies it more attentively, he’s sure the stuff is organic. It’s like they forced his head and the superior part of his torso into some sort of ring of weird looking mushrooms, the mycelium of one of them extended around his head. If this is producing oxygen for him, he really doesn’t want to disturb it.

The world tilts when he stands up but the Kel Dor pushes a shoulder under Cody’s arm and they go out. When Cody passes his armour, he fetches his blaster, and the other doesn’t stop him. Either he doesn’t understand it’s a weapon, or he doesn’t think Cody will attack him. Her? Them? Are Kel Dol gendered beings?

Exiting the small room, Cody can’t see. Everything is dark around them. He can hear movements and the air around him has the quality of an enormous space. A cave, he would think, but the little lamp his new friend has in his claws is not enough.

“Of course,” Cody remarks, “your eyes are much much better. You don’t need a bank of lamps.” He almost jumps when someone joins them and if his head wasn’t still ringing, he probably would have attacked, but it’s only another Kel Dor, smaller, with a skin more brown. They ask something to the first one, but again, there is no sense for Cody.

He’s guided to a stone bench and the little lamp is pushed into his hands. Kel Dor are going in and out of the little circle and Cody tries to evaluate how many of them there are, but he’s, to his great shame, not good enough to distinguish between the Kel Dor easily. He can isolate one or two who have more evident features for a human, like one missing an arm, but the rest of them, all dressed in a very similar way with some furs identical to those Cody woke up on, and the alien features. Cody feels anger against himself. He judges natural borns for not making an effort to distinguish between the vode, despite their efforts to gain their own identity by tattoos or dyes, and he shouldn’t be victim of the same bias.

Finally, someone sits next to him. Cody studies their face, trying to commit them to memory.

 People don’t seem unfriendly. He’s pretty sure the one he woke up with is some sort of local healer, and that it is this one who came back to him several times. Children even come to him, chattering in their language in a way which makes him think of the younger ones on Kamino, before some of their batches started to disappear and they started to understand what their fate in the world would be. A particularly daring little one climbs onto his lap and Cody looks around, ready to see the parent arrive and take its offspring from the strange being. But this community seems so peaceful nobody sees a problem with the child on the stranger's lap.

The little one shows him his treasure, a cube deeply carved with symbols Cody can’t decipher. Of course. In a world without sun, carving must be a medium and painting, or writing, must be inexistent.

“It’s a very nice cube,” he says to the little one, whose gender he can’t decipher. If Kel Dor have gender. He’s pretty sure he heard once that the biggest number of genders registered for a sentient species was eight, and the smaller zero, but he has no idea for this species.

The child seems pretty happy with the answer, even if they can’t understand it any more than Cody can understand their own opinion, expressed in an uninterrupted flow.

Around him, he can vaguely perceive people going about their day. How calm. How reposing. Nevertheless, peaceful or not, Cody can’t breathe the same atmosphere as them, and the strange organic concoction they put on his head to help will soon find its limits. He’s getting thirsty, for once, and he can’t drink without taking the thing off, which he can't. And that’s not even thinking about his General, who must be trying to reach him by any means the Force gives him.

If he knows Cody is alive.

No, no, he must know.

And even if the Force, whose exact limitations Cody is quite unsure of, even if the Force can’t tell Obi-Wan Cody is alive, Obi-Wan is not exactly a man to just go back to the outpost and declare him dead. He will search and search and search, and bring Cody back alive to his vode, or his body for his brothers to honour.

Cody knows: it had been a terrible row between the Jedi on one part and the Kaminoan and the Senate on another, this refusal to abandon dead clones bodies to the elements.

And, to the surprise of the Senate who was in the habits to bully the Jedi for centuries, the Jedi hadn’t budged. But Cody had seen what it had cost them: the Senate had made them pay, in late important reports who the Jedi needed for the war efforts, on refusal of important supplies, suddenly labelled unessential…

So, Obi-Wan is searching for him at the moment, and Cody needs to go to him. The ringing in his head, present since he woke up, has slightly diminished, and he has walked with more grievous wounds.

The question is now: how to mime exit to the Kel Dor, how to ask for a guide? Because if he has to feel around the cave until he finds an exit, he will, but that would be so much easier.

“Hoping there is an exit into your cave, little one,” he says to the child, who is falling asleep on his lap, “because if I have to drill through the roof to the exterior of the planet, it’s gonna cause breathing problems for your city.”

An adult approaches them, a long plaid in their hands, and they mime Cody putting it around his shoulders. Instead, Cody wraps the little one in it and puts the resulting bundle into the adult’s arms.

“I don’t suppose you could send me to the nearest exit?” He asks, and of course, the Kel Dor doesn’t have an answer.

He takes the little lamp and leaves to explore. He can’t see well more than two meters from the circle of light, and even with it, his eyes are struggling.

Soon, he’s stopped by a wall, which he follows until he finds a low door, with only a curtain. He risks an eye, feeling quite voyeuristic, but he only sees something resembling a storage space, big amphoras against a wall.

He continues to follow the wall, finds another one, loses himself in what is a succession of low houses. Above him, the roof of the cavern is still invisible and he can’t see the walls. He finds another little place with stone benches.

Or is it the same?

No, even underground, Cody is sure of his sense of direction. It’s another one place, and the city is bigger than he thought possible. He’s also walking way too slowly, because of the problem of light and his still ringing head.

“Kriff,” he whispers, sitting down on one of the benches.

“Obi-Wan, please find me,” he whispers before scolding himself. He’s no melodrama maiden, he is perfectly capable of finding the surface again by himself.

A burly Kel Dor approaches him, mushrooms in his claws and says something.

“I’m sorry, I can’t understand what you’re saying,” Cody tries to explain. The other sits next to him and gesticulates to the mushrooms helping, he thinks, him to breath, and when Cody doesn’t do anything, he starts placing the ones he brought against the first ones. They seem to merge in a frankly disgusting scene which is probably mushrooms porn.

“Does that mean you need to change them regularly for me to breathe?” Cody asks, despite knowing he won’t receive an answer he can understand.

 To add another problem to the long list Cody is already shouldering on, the cave floor starts to tremble and people start yelling.

People are yelling, and despite the language barrier, Cody can understand the panic with no problems.

The soil beneath his feet grumbles again. There is a sound like a rockslide, and more yells, and terror is the taste at the back of Cody’s throat, because he still can’t kriffin see.

Finally, the trembling is so terrible he’s thrown on his knees and the sound reaches a crescendo as a great light emerges from the rock soil, three hundred meters from where Cody is kneeling. It’s some sort of giant worm, with a maw higher than Cody. It roars and glows even brighter, the bioluminescence of its chitin almost dazzling for Cody himself.

 All around Cody, Kel Dor are yelling and struggling on their feet with great difficulties, as the rock soil is still trembling. The beast roars again and it sounds like a thousand ships taking off at the same time in the confined environment. As Cody is helping a Kel Dor to their feet, the pandemonium reaches an even higher spike as another worm emerges, further than the first, and the quake of the rock sends them flat on their bellies.

Cody really regrets letting Boil distribute his production yesterday, what he wouldn’t give for ten men and a rotary canon right now! Even for Hardcase, who he’s really happy is most of the time Rex’s problem, and his tastes for explosives.

He hoists himself more or less vertical, swearing all he can at the same time. He helps the Kel Dor to their feet again and then assesses the situation.

The lights of the worms let him have a good gaze for the first time at the enormous cavern they are in and the low buildings in it. Behind them he can even see big overtures, probably an entire network of caverns. An entire city in the dark, deep in the soil, protected from the outside world and its atmosphere which the Kel Dor can’t breathe, and from the Republic scanners which never knew they were there.

Protected from the sun, too.

And now that the light has come to them in the form of predators, they are defenceless. Cody can see people trying to flee, with a hand on their eyes, and with no success. By the time Cody has succeeded in approaching the scene of the disaster, at least three Kel Dor have been swallowed.

One of the worms, the closest, roars again and Cody doesn’t lose time: the maw, unprotected by the chitin covering the body, seems like a perfect target.

He raises his blaster and fires.

Another roar, even more deafening, as blood splatters all around in a gorish scene. A good part of the mandible has exploded, but the beast isn’t dead. It strikes, trying to gobble Cody like it did the poor Kel Dor. The difference is that the Commander can see in the light, on the contrary of the first victims. He evades just in time to escape certain death.

He rolls over and raises his blaster a second time, but the angle is worse than the first time, and the shot dampens itself on the chitin with no more effect than darkening it, and enraging the worm even more. 

Again, it tries to kill Cody and the man dances out of range, blessing the hours of training the Jedi gave all of them. It had been the first thing the Jedi had done, because they thought the training the vode had received on Kamino didn’t focus enough on the art of dodging.

Cody never told them it was because the trainers and the Kaminoans thought the vode easily expandable and more useful for a suicide strike. He suspects the Jedi knew, if the way they act around the Kaminoans is proof.

Dodging, advancing, retreating, taking a shot every time he sees an overture, Cody fights, more a reflex than anything, to protect the Kel Dor. He wouldn’t refuse a little help; with spears even if they don’t have other weapons, but the cavern inhabitants are useless. They are not even running away from the worms, full of the terror of death, and the light, which have come in their city.

Nevertheless, the issue of the fight was never a real question. Even hurt and far away from his usual fighting grounds, Cody was bred a warrior and he had honed the skills given to him by his genetic donor all his life. The worm, a female, is in the habit of only fighting other female worms during the mating season for access to the best breeding ponds and to gobble Kel Dor and every animal it could. It never had to fight a sentient being, especially one with a blaster.

The blaster’ shots finally damage the roof of its mouth enough and one of them burns its path to the brain. The beast dies immediately, but the nervous system needs time to receive that message. For a moment, Cody fears the convulsions of the enormous body will cause the entire caves system to collapse on their heads.

When the movements finally stop, he vaults himself over a rock slide, caused by the events, and approaches carefully. The worm is still partially obscured by the rock he emerges from, but Cody can see a good twenty meters of it. He’s bringing back a chitin part to the GAR, because he wants ships protected like that!

A sudden movement to his left makes him turn, but too late. His zoological fascination has caused Cody to make a horrible, rookie mistake, the sort of mistake which makes a rookie never have an occasion to become something other than a rookie.

For a moment, he had forgotten there was a second worm.

He brandishes his weapon, but it’s too late. Only his reflexes save him from being cut in two, but a razor sharp incisor scraps against his armour, parting it like butter and only missing the skin by half a centimetre. The worm has no interest in the Kel Dor, no matter how easy prey they are. It just wants to kill the stubborn little creature who just killed its mother. His blaster clatters on the rock, too kriffin far away. Cody rolls on himself, tries for it, but he already knows it’s too late, when the sound of a lightsaber being ignited announces the arrival of the cavalry, just in time.

Obi-Wan Kenobi arrives on the scene like an armed deux ex machina. He’s wearing Cody’s helmet in order to breath in the cavern and death is burning light-blue in his hand. Rare are the materials which can resist the power of a lightsaber, and Obi-Wan doesn’t take chances with Cody’s life, no matter how he is repelled by the taking of a life, even an animal one. The head of the worm falls on the other side of the body as Obi-Wan is still airborne from one of those improbable jumps Force Sensitive do. The second his feet touch the rock; he’s rushing to Cody, trying to assess his health.

Across the galaxy, Anakin suddenly sits down in the marital bed, sending Padmé, who was asleep across his torso, tumbling into the sheets by the violence of his movements. The vision of a chitinous torso opening, full of meaty juice, dances before his eyes.

“Ani?” The young Senator asks, once he has succeeded in making her put down the blaster she retrieved from even the Force doesn’t know where. Padmé doesn’t do peaceful when she’s woken up abruptly, something he learned quickly in their marriage. Convincing the handmaiden that every noise inside their bedroom wasn’t a murder attempt and that they shouldn’t rush in, weapons drawn, was another interesting adjustment to the married life.

“I just.….I’m not sure…” He tries to grip what woke him up, but it already has disappeared. “I think I’m hungry,” he admits, “sorry to have interrupted your sleep.”

“The droids can make you something,” she suggests, burrowing into the nest of pillows, less prone to sudden shifting.

“Do you think we have insects?” He asks.

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

“Cody! Cody, are you alright?”

“Obi-Wan, General, are you hurt?” Cody and Obi-Wan ask at the same time, hands searching, patting the other bodies in gestures less destined to triage of wounds and more to the simple animal need for contact.

“The air of the cavern isn’t breathable for us,” Obi-Wan says, after a few seconds and Cody nods: “I deduced that, but the thing on my head….it’s helping.”

“How did you deduce such a- Oh, um, hello.”

Around them, the Kel Dor have begun to assemble, all of them an arm on their face, trying to protect their eyes.

“Your lightsaber, turn it off,” Cody says and, making something purr in the Commander’s chest, Obi-Wan immediately obeys, no question, no hesitation.

The Kel Dors guide them away from the scene of the carnage. Cody sees a few of them with stone machetes and axes, already working on taking apart the pale flesh of the worms, working from the wounds Cody and Obi-Wan made, as the chitin is too hard on other places of the big bodies.

Cody watches for a few seconds. One of a Kel Dor yanks open the cranial cavity. Cody turns to the other side very quickly, because butchering enormous worms is apparently more than his battle-hardened stomach can take. Nothing should make the noise an axe makes against flesh.

Cody finds his little lamp again. It’s not even extinguished, the events haven’t probably lasted more than ten minutes. The universe is a hard place, thinks Cody, where he could get eaten by any abomination with too much teeth in less time than an oil lamp runs its course.

They sit next to each other on the closest bench and in the halo of the lamp, Cody inspects his General better. He’s covered in stone dust and whatever else disgusting stuff is on his tunic: he probably crawled his way there.

The adrenaline is still burning through Cody, and joy too, as he turns to his General. On the whole, he misses the days life was simpler on Kamino, with no worms for example, but on Kamino, he never heard the sound of a lightsaber and knew, with a certainty so burning it could have well resonated in the Force, that he was saved. There is comfort, in the hard world he’s living in, in the certainty that his General will tear apart entire solar systems to rescue any clones. That all Jedi would. For a clone, raised to be interchangeable, this strong-willed refusal to leave even one of them behind is a balm to the soul.

“You found me,” he says, and he tries to infuse that with professionalism, and fails miserably.

“I will always find you,” Obi-Wan promises. It’s strange to talk to him like that, with Cody’s helmet on his head. Cody hadn’t realized he relied so much on the Jedi’s face to understand him.

“Yes, sir, but for a moment, I confess I thought you would more, avenge me or something.”

Obi-Wan touches his shoulder.

“I’m sorry to have been so long,” he says, “the system of caves proved itself tricky, and the Force insisted I couldn’t just blow up my way inside.”

“That would let the atmosphere on the outside enter,” Cody theorized, “and I think, our hosts….”

Like they have been summoned, two Kel Dor approach them. They are dressed as simply as all the others Cody has seen, but on the bust of the smaller one, there is some sort of ceremonial pectoral and it has a very big difference with everything Cody has seen since stepping into the cave. It’s in metal.

“Obi-Wan”, Cody whispers, “look at that.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t speak the language more than Cody. He can recognize it’s not the actual principal language of Kel Dor, which he has heard before, but no more than that. Nevertheless, it’s less a problem for a Jedi. He can feel in the Force other’s intentions, enough to understand easily that the people here don’t want to harm them, which Cody had deduced himself hours ago, and that they want to bring them to see something.

Cody is very happy to leave the dead bodies of the worms behind them.

And to  General Skywalker eats insects! Bless the Force that Skywalker is Rex’s Jedi.

One cave. Another. Another one.

“How many are there? How big are these caves?'' Cody asks. He’s tired, hungry, thirsty, and more or less ready to go back to camp, thank you very much.

They find a ship, or more, the skeleton of a ship, in the last part of the caves system, the deepest one. It’s less a cave, and more the memory of a crash. The ship has been cannibalized, years after years, of everything useful, to the latest scrap of metal, except for the framework.

“It was probably made with a metal too dense for the meagre set of tools they have,” Obi-Wan theorizes.

“I can’t recognize the type of  ship that is, the form itself is so strange,” Cody remarks, watching it with the eye of a man trained to recognize enemy and ally ships in a nano second in the middle of battle. Obi-Wan is touching the metal with his bare skin, with great reverence.

He always loved old things, his Jedi.

The happiest Cody had seen him was for a protection mission in a dusty archive, on a faraway world. General Skywalker was with them, and the young Ahsoka too, and the intel had been faulty. There had been no attack, Obi-Wan had had his Padawan and GrandPadawan close and safe, and spent his days making amorous noises at poetry treaties centuries old.

“It’s incredibly old. Probably before the foundation of the Republic."

"But that’s….that’s old as kriff."

"During the first time of space travel, ships weren’t as reliable. They probably are the descendants of a crew of explorers. After the crash, staying inside the caves was the only long-term possibility for them, if they hadn’t the means to produce enough respiratory apparatuses. It was the only way to survive for them.  Nevertheless, it stopped anyone from finding them. And little by little, they regressed technically and lost the way to contact the outside."

"Do you really think they would have travelled from their world without a way to breath on other planets?"

"Perhaps it was stocked in a part of the ship lost during the crash. Perhaps it was so long ago, it was long before the Kel Dor knew very few worlds have an atmosphere breathable for them…Every species has the tendency to think the world at large tailored for them.”

They don’t leave immediately. Obi-Wan is of the opinion that Cody is too tired to use the path he himself used to find him. And he’s probably right. Cody’s head is throbbing where he hurt it during his fall, but he doesn’t see how he could get better here, where he can’t eat or drink.

What follows is a game of mime between Obi-Wan and the Kel Dors which Cody won’t forget, ever, no matter how much Obi-Wan asks, and he regrets he doesn’t have a holocamera.

After a time, and an unforgettable time it was, Obi-Wan and he find themselves stashed in a little room, so low they can’t stand. It’s more a bed stuffed inside some sort of structure made in the same weird-looking, weird-smelling mushrooms. Cody takes off the bubble around his head and Obi-Wan takes off Cody’s helmet.

The red head has the worst case of helmet’s hair Cody has seen, ever and Cody can’t stop an unprofessional laugh around his first mouthful of fresh water.

“I don't Not a head made for helmets, do I?” the Jedi smiles, as he tore in two a strange looking loaf of bread.

They fall on the food, famished, and tease each other at the same time. There is water and what Cody thinks is some root vegetables, and flatbread, and some meat he isn’t touching with a ten foot pool, just in case it's giant worm.  

“If you swear to wear armour instead of linen in battle, I swear to the Force I will never mock your hair,” Cody smiles in return, and Obi-Wan makes a face, like he did already wear good, solid protection instead of tunic and leggings and whatever he calls the multiple layers of his Jedi’s clothes.

“I thought….for a moment, I thought…” Obi-Wan stops. It’s rare to see him lost for words, he of the Silver tongue, the Negotiator.

“I’m not dead,” Cody reiterates, because there is no need to beat around the bush. Even risking their lives every day the Force makes, nobody likes the kick of adrenaline when one of your men is missing. It never becomes normal. It never should.

“And yet, for a second I thought you were. When I saw the earth opening under your feet and gobbling you. And when I arrived during your battle, the Force trumpeting in my heart about the mortal danger you were running to.”

“The Kel Dor were pretty useless against those things. Couldn’t let them get eaten like that. Not when they rescued me and helped me.”

“I know. I know. And I would have done exactly the same thing.”

Obi-Wan sits on the bed, less gracefully than he usually does. From where he’s leaning against the mushroom wall, Cody stares. He can see the lines around his mouth, and after his late-night conversation with Master Quinlan Vos, he knows they aren’t from laughing. He can see the lines at the edges of the eyes, discreet for now, a little more present every day. He can see the first traces of grey on the temples, simply a trace of silver in the red mane…. He’s, almost, sure there was no grey at the beginning of the war, he has seen the holos of Obi-Wan against Prime, against Jango, all those years ago, on Kamino.

Obi-Wan is burning too bright, burning himself.

And Obi-Wan isn’t the only one not getting younger. The accelerated aging isn’t exactly good for Cody’s health, starting with his knees.

One day, he won’t be quick enough for the next giant, bioluminescent man-gobbling worm. Or Obi-Wan will be too tired against Grievous. Since they met, an assignment Commander- General decided by Alpha-17 himself, their life has been full of Separatist assassins, murderous fauna, Sith assassins, murderous geology, Separatist assassins pretending to be Sith assassins, and Sith assassins pretending to be Separatists assassins, brain-washed murderous Senators, murderous flora, murderous black holes, and one time a murderous sentient ship.

The whole galaxy is conspiring to kill clones and Jedi, for what Cody can see.

If his math is right, he survived today the sixty-third attempt on his life from Fate since he left Kamino. Obi-Wan was there for most of them, and Cody was around for the latest attempts on Obi-Wan’s life.

And one day, it will stop.

Cody opens his mouth before he can talk himself out of it. Life is short and he’s a soldier slave, he doesn’t have the luxury to wait for another time.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” he says, and Obi-Wan looks like he has been whacked on the skull with a heavy object. It’s not exactly his best face, mouth round in surprise, and Cody only feels affection. Then Obi-Wan’s lips curve into a smile like a sun, blinding, warm, and the Jedi touches the side of Cody’s face.

The Jedi touches the side of Cody’s face.

He doesn’t speak. Not yet. His head against Cody, his breath sharing Cody’s own air, they close their eyes, and Cody experiences the strange idea that he’s detaching himself from his brothers.

For the first time, there is something in his hands, or well, in his heart, that he doesn’t want to share with Wolffe or Boil, or even Rex, who has become his closest brother.

He doesn’t want to hide Obi-Wan from them, but he wants….

He hasn’t the words. Not yet.

But, with Obi-Wan at his side, he hopes he will learn them.

And he hopes his brothers too can find something, or someone, so precious they need to share the joy of knowing it, but also to keep it to themselves, like he wants to keep to himself the smile of Obi-Wan when Cody tells “I love you”, or the small freckles at the side of his mouth, visible only so, so, so close.

The first “I love you” Cody hears from Obi-Wan is whispered against his lips.

The first kiss tastes of the bread offered by the Kel Dor, of the cave’s dust and it’s perfect.

They’re still in the same situation, two exhausted men, in a cave full of toxic gases, only protected from them by some unknown mushrooms exuding oxygen, and Cody feels like he could take over the entire Republic. He sleeps curved around Obi-Wan, like two parts of the same whole, touching as much as they can, and if the headache from his head wound brings Cody to the surface a few times during their nap, he feels rejuvenated after it.

After, the Kel Dor help them find the surface and Cody and Obi-Wan leave their new friends, hand in hand, quite happy to find back the sun and the sky, the fresh air of a late morning…and almost all their men crawling around their area, trying desperately to find them.

Obi-Wan keeps Cody’s hand in his and a few brothers less intimidated than others by Cody’s glare, embarrassed and proud at the same time, even bumped their big brother’s shoulders as a sign of congratulation. Obi-Wan immediately goes red, like he’s a teen on his first crush, and not a seasoned Jedi Master whose touch can bring life or death. 

Cody finds it adorable. 

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

It’s the middle of the night shift on the Negotiator, but Cody is still working on a different time zone, so he lets Obi-Wan sleep peacefully in their shared bunk. Their shared bunk! A notion that still makes him giddy like a shiny at their first kiss, even a month after getting together. They are taking things pretty slow, or in the wrong order, Cody isn’t sure, they sleep in the same bunk every night, but haven’t got very far in term of sex, and this perfect, because this is them, and not some sort of artificial list of relationship’s milestone. And Cody already knows, deep in his soul, that he will never love a man like he loves this one, even if Obi-Wan is killed tomorrow, and he’s sure it’s the same for Obi-Wan. 

The Negotiator is in route to join with the Steadfast, so General Koth is on board after a conjoined mission where Obi-Wan and him gave Cody new grey hairs. He finds him easily in the mess, demolishing a healthy serving. The stamps outside the rations are a different colour than the ones Cody and his brothers eat.

“Can I join you?” Cody asks.

“Of course,” Eeth Koth immediately answers and the chair on the other side of the table moves on its own, offering itself for the Commander. Cody arches a brow.

“Don’t tell Obi-Wan,” the General jokes, “or I will endure a lesson for frivolous use of the Force.”

Cody sits and they stay silent for a moment, the General apparently happy to let him come to his questions in peace, continuing to eat his meal. Despite being tailored for a different species’ nutritional needs, it looks exactly as unappetizing as most rations Cody is used too. 

“General Ke-“

“You can call him Obi-Wan in front of me,” Eeth Koth interrupts. “There is no need to be ashamed of what binds you.” He grimaces. “Force knows we will all need all the comfort we can get before everything is set and done in this war.”

“Obi-Wan and I, we had a bit of an adventure, last month.”

“From what I heard, you have a lot of them.”

“Yes but….it was…it was the first time I was around civilians. Normal people, I mean.”

“Not Jedi and not clones, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“Putting apart the fact that you are normal people, and that we are too, that it is a slippery slope to consider us different, because then the rights…”

“I know you’re fighting for us in the Senate. I know. That isn’t the question…I just mean. They were civilians. Even more civilian than usual. I have only met natural borns who are Jedi and Senators and politicians or some sort of official. This was different. And I realized how little we know about the world outside the GAR. And how little we know about societies, and species who aren’t us. They raised us for war only…” Cody was almost trembling with it. Eeth Koth put a comforting hand on his wrist and Cody continued:

“Obi-Wan, I don’t want Obi-Wan to become my teacher. It’s not his role. But if we want to have a chance outside the war, us, the vode, we need to learn about the outside world. I wanted to ask you if there was something…a way…”

Eeth Koth had totally abandoned his meal and Cody could feel the weight of his gaze, the same gaze as Obi-Wan, transcending their species.

“Let me call a few people,” the Jedi said.

**********

Years later, Cody thinks a lot about that moment. Eeth Koth joined the Force during the war and Cody has to remember this moment for the two of them, this simple moment around a table, this moment which became one of the tipping point of his life. Not the too numerous almost-death, not the many battles, not even his first kiss with his dear Obi-Wan. This moment, in Cody’s mind, is the one which changed his fate. 

Eeth Koth died not even two months after that, one among a lot of Jedi who gave their life, alongside the vode, for a chance for the galaxy and its people. Not that people are particularly thankful about it: the discovery of the Sith engineering the two sides of the conflict rocked the easy confidence of the Republic in the solidity of its system.

Democracy is never forever, if people don’t work for it.

No, democracy is only saved for now, and never will it be saved forever and ever. But that shock to the system is treated by the most intelligent of the bunch like a chance to seize. All across the reunited Republic people are working hard, entering politics, creating organizations to teach the population, to hold those in power accountable…. 

It’s a sad thing so many vode, jedi and civilians had to die and suffer for that. It’s even sadder to think it didn’t almost happen. The Republic almost burned, the Sith almost won, the beloved former Padawan of Obi-Wan Kenobi almost helped murder Mace Windu, Master of the Order...Mace Windu isn’t exactly the type to hold a grunge, but Obi-Wan still needed months after that to stay in his presence, the guilt that should have eaten Anakin transfered. 

Honestly, if Obi-Wan forgave Anakin much too quickly, and Windu too, the vod needed a much longer time. Skywalker had almost helped the man who had engineered them as slave soldiers, the man who would have wiped out their free will, the poor part of it they still had. The vod had needed a long time to forgive, and would never forget, but Cody still has the desagreable impression Rex’s anger is a most important consequence in Skywalker’s mind that the almost death of the democratic system and the almost rise of a dictatorship. 

Sometimes, late in the night, Obi-Wan stays awake, something lost in his eyes than mediation never totally makes disappear, and Cody is sure that day figures in a good part in his dark thoughts. 

Obi-Wan, and Cody too, think about what could have been. If Cody hadn’t been there that day, in the Temple, who would have been in charge of keeping an eye on Skywalker in the Council Room? No one, that who. Because Skywalker was a Council member, if a very fresh one, and there wasn’t on hand a Jedi Master with enough years to take a look at a Council Member and decide he needed baby-sitting. All those Masters were deployed, or in beds in the halls of healing. But Cody, Cody was there, and since he and his General had become an item, he had taken sometimes to act, despite what his logical brain told him, not like a soldier Anakin could order around, but like an exasperated step-father. Exasperated and concerned, as the war advanced and Anakin seemed less and less attached to his morals. 

 Who would have followed him to the Senate when Skywalker had refused to wait anymore, and tackled him at the last minute? Who would have stopped Anakin Skywalker from doing something as tremendously stupid as to save a Sith pitted against Mace Windu?

And all of that had been possible because Jocasta Nu had taken the first excuse she could to keep Cody on Coruscant that month. A well-known linguist was visiting for a series of talks, and she thought he could be a good professor for Cody, and more importantly that well-know linguist had enough political power to obtain permission for a clone following his courses.

And the Republic had lived, because Cody loved linguistics, or more because he had loved the little he understood of it at the time.

But Cody refuses to let the horrors of those years of war, and his terrible first years on Kamino, define him. He prefers to think, again and again, to that moment with Eeth Koth.

Cody didn’t know exactly what he wanted. His accelerated childhood, raised for war and war only, hadn’t given him the words for it. He just knew that for his brothers and he to have a chance after the war, they needed more. Or even more terrible horrors would certainly befall them. Soldiers without wars aren’t useful anymore, and tools with no use are only fated to be dismantled for parts.

Following Eeth Koth’s call, Jocasta Nu and her assistants had descended on the GAR with determination, great efficiency and anger that they hadn’t thought about that themselves. By dint of foraging the Jedi Archives, and every friendly archives of the galaxy, for legal precedent to help the Vode, they had forgotten all answers weren’t found between the terabytes of a datapad.

Master Nu is seated right next to Obi-Wan in the public and trying very hard to pretend her eyes aren’t misty, as Cody receives his diploma, earning himself the title of Doctor in linguistics, for his work with the forgotten Kel Dor city, right next to the first Kel Dor of said city to have made the jump to Coruscant.

Cody isn’t the first clone to finish his thesis. Not surprising:  he left the GAR years later than some of them, refusing to leave before his lover, who had been pressed into service as long as the Senate could justify it, and even longer. With Anakin leaving the Jedi Order, Obi-Wan was certainly the most famous member of it for the public, and it was as if the Senate tried to make him pay the Jedi’s refusal to abandon the vode. But Cody was the first clone Jocasta Nu talked with, when she arrived to try to help the vode not in pleading that they shouldn’t be slave soldiers, but in demonstrating they were so much more.

Cody wasn’t the first clone to leave the GAR officially, that honour went to Rex who followed Ashoka to Orto Plutonia, the first clone to be officially accepted as a member of the Jedi Corps. For what Cody understands, his life consists of almost losing his toes ten times a month, hunting with the Taz and flirting desperately with every passing skirts, as Ahsoka flirts desperately with her own Senator and supervises Republic-Taz contacts. Obi-Wan and Cody went once during permission, and Cody swore to himself that the next time Rex and Ahsoka wanted to see them, it could be on a tropical atoll.

Cody wasn’t the first clone to find a job outside of the Jedi orbit. That honour went to Fives and Tup, who left together and chose the most pacifist world they could. “We were almost separated once, never again. I’m not touching a weapon again in my life” Fives had said to Cody that day, watching Tup, busy hugging Rex, with something ferociously possessive in his eyes. Now, they have a nursery of succulent plants on a small island, in the south hemisphere of Alderaan, and Cody still isn’t sure if they are the best friends in the world, or one of those pairs who took brothers in a quite different sense, and frankly, he doesn’t care. There is a small potted thing they sent as a gift on Cody’s desk, with red undertones and white flowers once a year, but the former Commander has a black thumb, and only Obi-Wan’s careful nursing in the Force saved the poor thing already thrice.

Cody wasn’t the first clone to enter academia, that honour went to Waxer, who now teaches mathematics on Mandalore and is busy reintroducing Fett’s genes into the population with a long string of ex-partners, who still like him very much and with who he raises an army of children, at least three of them bearing a name honouring Waxer.

Cody wasn’t the first clone to marry, that honour went to Jesse and Cody isn’t touching that choice of spouse with a ten-foot pool.

Cody wasn’t the first in a lot of things. But it’s ok. He doesn’t have to lead his brothers anymore. He doesn’t have to bear responsibilities for death and help who didn’t come, and for the horrors that were their life.

The vode are free and Cody can only be a brother like any other.

He can be only Obi-Wan’s husband, even if Obi-Wan jokes that now, it’s more him that will be only the husband of Doctor Cody Kenobi, his arm candy in gatherings.

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #codywan #my fics

[hdnprplflwrs]

four am, p.s.t.

a connor stoll/mitchell fic.

1. Travis usually does laundry.

3. Travis is going to visit his girlfriend Katie Gardner for a whole six months on a study abroad exchange which miraculously happened to be exchanging students from Connor and Travis’s university to Katie’s.

4. Travis never taught Connor how to do his own laundry.

5. Because Travis does their laundry.

6. There’s also a really cute boy a couple washing machines down from Connor’s, and Connor is desperately trying not to make a fool of himself at four in the morning.

7. (He has blue hair.)

It’s a rather uneventful night in the span of Connor’s life. He woke up at the healthy hour of two pm, went to a class that started at one thirty pm, inhaled a pizza after class, worked a half shift at the joke shop, turned his homework into airplanes, the usual.

(Pineapple on pizza–– only if it’s fresh ass pineapple. Anything canned or noticeably pre-cut is not it. Also, who gets the personal size pizzas? They’re waaaaaaay too small to consume.)

(Also, olives are the way to go. Anchovies are for people who are truly at rock bottom and/or drunk.)

The little, aesthetically pleasing laundromat on the corner on the intersection a few blocks away from his dorm is open 24/7. Even the machine noises are pleasant: bumbling white noise amidst the neon ‘80s lights that swirl on the walls.

There’s a jukebox in the corner.

(It’s….it’s interesting, okay? There’s some good ass songs on that jukebox. Cherry Bomb never sounded so good.)

He tugs at his sweatshirt collar, shifting the fabric out of nervousness. It’s either his or Travis’s or Katie’s, but it’s a Tickets to My Downfall and usually Connor would be all out jamming to punk shit (because he’s a bad bitch) but he’s currently at a laundromat at ass o’clock in the morning in a sweatshirt and skinny jeans with a cute boy staring at him.

(Connor can only imagine the mess his face is right now. There’s a pimple on the side of his jaw and he probably has bags under his eyes and he definitely hasn’t brushed his teeth since morning.)

Nico is the only one of Connor’s friends who is also awake at four in the morning, and he is currently laughing his ass off at this predicament.

“Nico, Nico, Nico, Nico, Nico,” Connor says in his smoothest voice, running a hand through his hair and arranging it back into position. “I will give you all the fucking 5 gums in the world if you would please just help me.”

(Note: Of all the people in the world, he would not choose Nico to call about helping him with laundromat issues. Nico is terrifying even on a normal hour on a normal day when Nico is semi-normal. However, Connor is kind of in a pickle right now, nor is a pickle in him.)

“No. You know what, fuck you. This is payback for the time you drowned my bedroom, Stoll. No.”

“Can you wake up Will at least? Please?” Connor begs. “Just for like two minutes––”

“He has a med midterm tomorrow, Connor, no.”

“Nicoooooooo.”

“Just Google it, man.”

“I’m out of data and it didn’t make sense earlier, just––” Connor realizes that he’s gesticulating wildly and Nico can’t even see it. He straightens up as if that had never happened.  “I’m going to drop my phone into my load because my hands are shaking so bad, Nico, just help meI’llbeindebtedtoyouforever!”

Nico laughs, loud and long. “Load! Get it? Because you’re a FUCKING HOMOSEXUAL!”

The call ends.

Connor is going to be so owned tomorrow by the traitors he calls his friends about how he’s literally too gay to function.

He might actually cry.

(Looklooklooklooklook, the bedroom flooding was all in good fun, okay? Connor and Travis were just going through the gauntlet of students with the funniest reactions to post on TikTok. At least Connor didn’t put Nico’s face in there, jeez.)

He sends one last, desperate plea to his brother for his troubles (and gets a string of cry-laughing emojis for his trouble) and then Percy sends a meme in the Camp Half-Blood counselor groupchat and he’s laughing his balls off at the accuracy.

“Can we get some pogs in the chat, boys,” he mutters as he types that out. Sends it. Jason replies with some laughing emojis.

He could ask Percy for help with his laundry. But that would only serve to confirm Nico’s story that Connor was…..interested in laundry boy.

(Percy lives on the East Coast. Connor is currently in Arizona.)

Connor stares back at the damning washing machine and then turns back to his load. His ADHD immediately goes nope and he’s staring at a spot on the floor, vision unfocusing as his brain bluescreens.

“Are you okay?”

I should probably respond.

Cue more bluescreening.

hm.

Then his brain finally has the sense to focus and he shakes his head as if to get the water out of his ears (not like the sensation that much different). “Yeah, what’s up?”

“I heard you on the phone –– are you alright?” The very cute boy asks, and he is standing very close to Connor Connor might die ––

“Yeah, it’s just my HADD,” Connor says.

The blue-haired boy nods. “Oh, nice! I have that, too.” He points his index finger at Connor, thumb sticking straight up. “Mild dyslexia, too?”

“We travel in packs,” Connor agrees (but he also doesn’t) and thank the gods the blue-haired boy nods.

“Kinda makes it hard to read labels,” blue-haired boy laughs. He tugs the shirt Connor just realizes had been in his hands. “See, my mom taught me that you have to, like, feel the fabric to know whether or not to use IcyHot. I mean, hot or cold water. And detergents and stuff. That’s one way to find out what to use. Wait. Uh, did you want help? I could help you.”

Connor huffs out a grin, his smile burning into his cheeks with how wide it is. “Yes.”

Give it kudos and drop a comment here.

#mitchell #connor stoll #percy jackson #underrated ships in percy Jackson: in this essay I will #Laundromat bois #I honestly don't know where this came from #but it exists #I guess #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo #I imagine when Nico screams he sounds like Corpse screaming #fluff #ao3 #fanfiction #anyways

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

The Bad Guy (G.D. Gang AU)

Summary: The world sees him as Grayson Dolan - the CEO of Dolan enterprises, an entrepreneur. Y/N will soon find a much darker side to the world’s favorite bachelor.  

Warnings: language, alcohol use, smut, fluff, angst, violence…

Word count: 27.6k

The Bad Guy Masterlist

A week I had been down here, listening to Grayson’s stubborn grunts and dry chuckles, coated in defiance and poison. A week I had spent in the cold, dark basement as leverage where I had been beaten and degraded in hopes of breaking him.

I’m not afraid anymore. Not for myself, but for him alone. Hearing them take turns torturing the man I had come to love in spite of my better judgement, I knew if he didn’t give them information they seek it would be his end.

Me?

I knew how my story would end. I think I knew it since the moment I said ‘fuck it’ and gave my heart to Grayson Dolan, leader of the most powerful gang on US soil.

I knew what would happen to me; that I’d meet my end at the edge of a sharp blade or at the barrel of a gun. I just didn’t know who would be on the other end.

It would be to break him, the final nail in the coffin.

They’ve tried hurting me in front of him, but he barely budged. He didn’t even flinch when I took punch after punch until I passed out. The merciless, unemotional coldness in his eyes never withered. His claim of no attachment to me remained despite their threats.

It stung, even knowing he said it in hopes of my release.

My skin has ruptured above the growing purple blooms. Every movement hurts. I am battered on the inside worse than any broken bone and without a doctor who can even detect the damage.

I sat curled up against the wall, shivering in my underwear and clutching to the already faded scent of his shirt. It was either suffocatingly quiet or pierced with the screams of tortured people, not only Grayson’s. I’ve learned to distinguish the sounds for Grayson never once screamed, not even when he was walking the line of life and death. He’s too proud to give them the satisfaction.

The never-ending punches from down the hall, behind the steel doors, they never stop. Angry shouting never stops.

Until they do.

Quick, heavy footsteps near me. Determined walking, I could tell. It wasn’t a good sign for me, not after the last time. The last time ended with me coughing up a lung and him losing consciousness after they punched him so hard I could have sword his neck broke.

The door opens and I jump to my feet, placing an invisible mask of stubborn fearlessness, hoping to hide my true emotions.

“Walk.” The order is simple, just as the gun pointed at my head. The man tilts his head, instructing me to move instead of staring at his bloodied hands. The dry blood meant it wasn’t his turn to torture Grayson, but me.

I obey his wishes, knowing I have no choice. It’s either listen or die…there’s no in between.

Walking down the dark hallway, seeing a small light at the end where Grayson is held, I hold my breath in anticipation of what is waiting for me once I arrive.

What will I find in there? A man too stubborn to die or his corpse after all the animalistic things they’ve done to him?

Pushed inside, I stumble forward, my legs weak from days of starvation and dehydration, the beating and loss of sleep.

Lips quivering, I look away from the barely recognizable image of the man I love. His face is made out of blood and bruises, cuts on every inch of his once impeccable skin. His eyes are swollen over, barely open and bloody spit drooled from his slack jaws. His hair is matted, no longer styled immaculate as he wore it before. He’s shirtless, only giving way for more injuries that line his body.

He’s barely alive, but he still refuses to talk.

I’m not even sure what this man wants from us, nor what Grayson did to anger him. I just know it will end us both if he keeps up his nonnegotiable attitude.

Refusing to cry, I keep my pieces close, not allowing them to shatter. If I shatter right now, I didn’t know what it would do to him.

“Now. I’ve had a change of heart.” The man smirks, putting a hand around me carelessly. I gnaw on the inside of my cheek, trying hard to restrain myself from acting up when I know I’m no match for him. I try my best not to look at Grayson, averting my eyes to the ground instead.

“I’m willing to let you go.” He says slyly, his raw voice brutal against my ear. Disgusted by his proximity, I struggle against him, shooting my right leg out but my movements are far too slow. Hands moving from my waist, the stranger seized my arms, trapping them to my side.

“It’s obvious this one will not admit to anything to save you…so…I want to offer you an out.” His tongue brushed my earlobe, forcing me to hold back on gagging as nauseating swirls began to dance in my very empty stomach.

He slides his hand down my right arm, forcing something cold and heavy in the palm of my hand. He wraps my fingers around the metal, his breath that smells of cigarettes and alcohol overwhelming my senses.

“Make the shot and you can go free.” That’s when I realized what he gave me. A gun.

“Try anything and my men will blow both your brains out.” He warns, finally stepping away from me.

I lift my hand up, biting down on my lower lip mercilessly as I gaze upon the deadly weapon in my possession. I’m trying to figure out if trying to aim the gun at someone else would be possible.

Closing my eyes with a slight shake of my head, I aim the gun at a calm Grayson and meet his gaze.

There is nothing behind the hazel swirls I loved so dearly, not a trace of the man I cherished. His eyes aren’t even hazel anymore, but brown and bloodied, barely giving way to the color I adored.

In those earthy hues was his soul, not in the way those cheesy romance novels described, so obsessed with lust, but with the kind of beauty that expands a moment into a personal eternity, a heaven you wish to be a part of. A heaven I got to be a part of.

That’s all gone now.

“Maybe this will make it easier for you.” The man speaks up, noticing the continuous trembling of my hands, my entire body at that.

“The very first night we took you, I told him we’d kill you…after taking turns raping you. He said: do as you please. She means nothing to me.” My eyes widen at the words, feeling as if I’ll break like a porcelain figurine. Once I break, nothing will put me back together again. Not even Grayson.

Could he ever say such a thing?

Could he sacrifice me for his business?

He always told me I’d never be his priority, so is this him keeping his word?

My rage grew, but I knew I’d never be able to pull the trigger. I might not be his priority, but he’s always been mine. I can hate him for his actions, never forgive him for what he had done…but he won’t die by my hand.

Not tonight.

I shook my head rapidly disallowing my second thoughts to get the better of me. Faltering, the gun is ripped out of my hand and I whimper at the forceful takeover.

“That’s disappointing.” He spat at me, but I didn’t fret.

They untie Grayson, placing the gun in his hand as well. He wouldn’t do this to me. I’m not afraid.

Faith - mine floated away from me a very long time ago, like a leaf being pulled away on the tide, and into the sea to become lost and alone, likely drowned. But I have faith in Grayson. I’ve always trusted him, not doubting he’d protect me.

That’s why this is much more painful than it had to be.

Without a second thought, in a single heartbeat, he aimed the gun at me and cocked his head.

“Sorry darling. Nothing personal.” And then he pulled the trigger.

One year earlier

Have you ever felt change in the air? Like something big, unstoppable is coming for you, prepared to turn your life around into something you can’t recognize?

I’ve felt that this entire day, deep in my bones.

Driving to a night shift at a bar wasn’t a part of that feeling. That’s routine. At least for me it is.

It’s been that way ever since I moved to New York and started classes in NYU because I couldn’t afford tuition in Columbia, my dream school. I wanted to study medicine, to get a degree and make my parents proud. They say that children rarely surpass what their parents became and I came from a salesman and a music teacher that were born and raised in a town so small it doesn’t show on many maps…in this day and age, I had nowhere to go but up.

I swore I’d leave that town and if working late nights at a bar in a popular club, flirting for tips is the way to go, then I’d do just that.

“VIP section wants whiskey on the rocks.” Carmen gave the order and I nod, grabbing glasses. Two years behind the bar gave me enough experience to do most things with eyes closed, but when it’s the good stuff they require all your senses sharpen.

“How many?” I ask, taking the bottle of our finest whiskey.

“Eight.” She bends down, picking up a bottle of tequila for drunk frats on the other end of the bar and I gawk at her.

“This should make a nice tip!” If the guys have hundreds of dollars to spend on eight glasses of whiskey, I’m sure a wink paired with a smile would get me at least a third if not more of the original price.

Older they are, creepier but more generous they get. I’ve learned that fast. However, they were easy to impress. The young guys were those who actually expected innocent flirting to go further and got pissed when I put them in their place, denying me a proper tip at that.

Assholes.

Adding ice, I take the tray and make my way to the VIP section, swaying lightly to the beat. I couldn’t risk spilling these drinks for they cost as much as my kidneys, so I quickly stopped myself and plastered a smile before entering the section behind a velvet rope.

One look is enough for me to groan internally, seeing five young men and three men in their fifties.

“Frank.” I lean closer to the guard, making sure he’s aware I might need him. Although he’s always been there in time, I had to remind him for my sake.

“Stay close. I might need you.” Frank nods, his pale blue eyes darkening once he looks back at the men in their fancy suits.

“No worries, little one. Always am. Keeping my eye on them.”

Extremely self-conscious of my slightly exposing uniform, I take a deep breath and step up to the podium with their table.

Eight men sitting, three standing - guards most likely.

In the center of the table sit two almost identical men, both in suits and looking like they belong on a runway instead of the crowd they’re with. But only one of the two caught my eye.

Shaking my head slightly, I move closer once the same guy looks up at me, eyeing me up and down before rolling his eyes and waving me over.

Oh, here we go.

“Good evening, gentlemen.” I coat my voice in unnecessary sweetness, hoping to smooth over the waiting time that added up in my hesitation to approach them.

I started placing a glass in front of each man, ignoring the fact someone’s hand is brushing my ass and most of them are peering at my cleavage for a better view.

“We won the jackpot tonight boys!” The man who clearly knows no bounds taps my ass and I jump up, knocking over the last glass all over one of the guests.

Gasping, eyes wide in horror, I feel cold sweat wash over me.

“I’m so sorry, sir!” I begin apologizing profusely, hands trembling as I dab his thigh with a rag until his hand firmly grasps my wrist, stopping me effectively.

“Stop!” He practically growls at me, forcing me to look up despite my want to disappear.

“Get me another.” His voice clears as he looks into my eyes, the dark brown enticing me to nod silently. I realize just now that it’s the same man I first noticed upon entering, the one who called me over. Denying myself the pleasure to look at him any better, I nod curtly.

“Right away sir!” I squeal, swallowing thickly when I feel a hand on my lower back again. Turning around, I face the dickhead who made me spill and glare at him.

“Please don’t touch the servers, sir.” My voice is anything but pleasant and I don’t care. Fondling is where I draw the line. Slapping the unwanted hand away from me, I walk around him and start walking away on wobbly legs. Hearing a loud, gruff laugh, I glance back at the table only to see the old bastard enjoying his advances and the fact he got away scot free.

I grimace, trying to hold back tears and run the hell out of there with Frank calling after me.

“Get me a glass of that whiskey on rocks and a shot for me.” I ask Carmen, my voice as shaky as I feel.

Nauseous, skin crawling, screaming inside - that’s how I feel. There’s always someone throwing unsavory comments my way, but almost none have ever put their hands on me in that degree.

“You alright, hon?” Carmen gave me a sympathetic smile as I shook my head and quickly downed the shot.

“Nah. But I will be.” Shrugging, I grab the tray and head back, a little more confident than I left. A shot can do a girl wonders when necessary.

Coming nearby, I find one of the guards pushing that old sack of shit out the back door and stop, unable to contain a smile.

“I’m sorry I -” Frank stops me, but I pass right by, preparing to face the music again.

The table is now a man short, my heart a little calmer.

Placing the drink before the young man, I apologize once more only to find the guard that escorted that ass take his place behind the same guy.

“Thank you.” I whisper to the guard, turning to leave when a hand wrapped around my wrist again.

“You’re thanking the wrong man.” He glances at me, releasing my hand and I turn back around, eyes gliding over the men around him and the man I deemed his brother beside him. His brother is the only one watching the interaction, none of the others seems to dare look at me.

“Thank you for stepping in, especially after the spilling incident.” I swallow my pride and thank him for intervening, deciding he deserves it.

Waiting for a response, for a look my way at the very least, I quickly realize it won’t happen when his hand sets mine free.

I’m left looking at his stylish brown hair and sharp jawline instead, unable to see much more from this angle. He’s got wide shoulders, that I can be sure of.

“Well, uh…if that’s all.” I step back, lips set in a firm line until his voice coaxed me to stop.

“A bill would be great.” He reminds me, looking up at me with a raised eyebrow and I stop, tapping my pockets for the bill in panic. If I don’t have a bill, legally they don’t have to pay for a single thing which means I am the one paying for it. I can’t afford that to happen.

Feeling the crumbled paper in my left back pocket, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’ve been holding and unfold the paper in front of him.

“Wait.” He stops me once more and I tense up, biting my lip.

“Yes, sir?”

“You only put down eight drinks. We had nine this evening.” He points out and I frown, licking my lips.

“I’ve spilled one, sir.” I remind him sheepishly, growing uncomfortable under his unrelenting state.

Unexpectedly, the man stands up and my level of distress skyrockets.

He is TALL tall and very muscular, even under the suit it’s obvious. His eyes are dark and knowing, his nose perfectly shaped for his face, all his features sharp and appealing like something out of a Taylor Swift song.

He’s so tall and handsome as hell. He’s so bad, but he does it so well? Sounds about right.

“What happens when you spill a drink?” He steps closer, lights dancing on his skin as I feel my heart thundering inside my chest.

He looks like a walking Taylor Swift song, but he feels like he just walked out of a Lana del Rey’s song.

His presence alone commands awe, respect and his charisma can make any human stop and forget what they’re doing so long as it pleases him. He is magnetic, electric, someone you can get lost in before knowing what’s happening.

But he’d never go for a girl like me. His suit alone costs more than my car.

“I pay for the damage, sir.” I respond confidently, surprising myself with the calm and collected front I had put on.

His eyes narrow at me, just enough for him to make out my features better in the darkness.

“How much is one glass of this whiskey?” He pushes further and I gulp, wondering if he can see my heart beating out my chest. What does any of this have to do with him anyway? It’s becoming literal torture to speak to him where we both lean forward to hear the other better and none of that leaning forward ends with his lips on mine.

“Two hundred dollars, sir.” I answer, feeling my breathing turn more shallow by the minute.

“You don’t strike me as someone who can afford something like that.” He points out and I chuckle nervously, shrugging.

“All part of my job.”

He grabs his back pocket, pulling out a black leather wallet and opens it up, exposing an impressive bundle of cash.

I couldn’t not stare at the money, nor wrap my mind around the fact people just walk around with that amount like it’s nothing.

“Here.” He hands me the money.

“That’s for nine glasses.” He continues to grab more money, counting silently as his plush lips move accordingly.

“And for your efforts.” He pockets a rather large looking sum in my apron, knocking the wind out of me.

“That’s too much, sir. I can’t accept this.” I try to give the money back when he reaches out and takes my hand in his, holding it captive.

“Take it. It will do you much more good than it could for me.” He states, not breaking eye contact that has become far too intimate for my taste.

“And it’s Grayson. Sir makes me feel old.”

I nod, walking away, certain I’d never see Grayson again.

But he was there the next night.

And the night after that.

And many more to come.

He always requests me as their server by name, somehow knowing it without me ever saying it. He never addressed me by it, but I knew he knew.

Every night consists of him and his brother, Ethan as I’ve been told, coming by and taking the same table in the VIP section, their guard with them.

Every night I bring them whiskey on the rocks, the two hundred a glass type, and every night he gives me a tip so generous that I finally learned what it meant to buy a new book to study from instead of handy downs.

And I love the smell of new books!

Grayson would barely speak to me, politely exchanging orders and thank you’s, but each night his discreet looks started becoming less and less discreet.

Three weeks in, he didn’t bother just glancing at me with his serious face on and a very hardened look he kept steady for whoever would join the table that night. He didn’t just glance, but stare every chance he got. And despite my better judgement, I stared back.

“Keep the rest, Y/N.” Grayson’s three thousand dollars in my hands shocked me, especially when the bill was just a little over a thousand and a half. It’s also the first time ever he used my name in a conversation. And I liked it. The way my name rolled over his pretty pink lips left me in shackles of lust he evoked.

“I can’t keep taking all this money, Grayson.” I leaned in, speaking through gritted teeth.

“Y/N Y/L/N, early twenties, student and living in a studio apartment. Yes, I know the exact age which I’ll keep quiet because it’s rude to talk about a lady’s age, and yes, I know your exact address, but I’d like you to feel comfortable around me so I’ll keep it to myself. You need this money and you earn it every night. I award those who do their jobs well, so take it and don’t question it.” He tapped my shoulder, the air around us turning static with contact as it always does when he touched me, accidentally or not.

“You had me investigated?” I whisper shout, prepared to call Frank on him. This goes beyond creepy, it’s stalkerish!

“I like to know who works in my close proximity. Nothing to worry about.” Winking, he walked back to the table and grabbed his jacket, snapping his fingers and the rest stood with him, leaving as I’m left gobsmacked. All he had to give me is a quick glance over the shoulder as he folded the jacket over his forearm, leaning in as he stopped beside me.

“I’m sure you investigated me too.” His cologne alone is enough to make my head spin, let alone the muscles bulging under his white dress shirt. He fixed his tie, pursed his lips when he noticed I barely blink anymore and walked away.

That’s all it was, just looks and occasional eyebrow raise, not even a smile to spare.

Two months in, that’s when I got my first smile. And although he was wrong the first time around, I did do my research on him in the meantime as he was gone for a few weeks.

A businessman with restaurants, clubs, gyms even, all over the country! He owns a studio in LA as well! His company DT media, which he started with his twin brother is one of the most lucrative companies in the world.

He’s not just rich, he’s filthy rich! Squeaky clean record, most eligible bachelor, prince charming in this day and age.

Yes, I needed a couple of shots to truly take that in.

“Missed me?” He smirked once I came up to the table with his usual order, his ear now sporting a wing shaped earring like I’ve seen in the photos, but never on him. He traded in a suit for a leather jacket, only adding on his bad boy look.

“Those abs? Yes. Those remarks? Nope!” I’m no longer stiff around him, openly sassing back which he seems to like.

His lips curl upwards, the soft skin spreading until his pearly whites showed, blurred with an amused shake of his head.

“Oh! So, he can smile! I can die in peace!” I teased, giggling at him for he now chuckled as well.

A smirk, a smile and a chuckle all at once? I truly got blessed.

“Funny! For your information, I missed you.” Grayson didn’t hold back, which stunned me for a second. He’s truly in a good mood tonight. He’s never flirted with me, not like that. It was all – tortured and broody, all in stolen glances and accidental touches kind of a flirtation.

“Good to know.” I smile, genuinely unsure what to say to that. What do people say to these things?

I felt his eyes on me as I walked away, managing to resist the urge to look back at him. I’m sure he missed seeing me walk away just as much as he missed me.

But when I returned, he wasn’t happy. Hunched over and talking in hush voices, Ethan and Grayson looked almost panicked.

Until Grayson saw me and ran up to me with a wild look in his brownish - hazel eyes.

“I need to borrow your car.” He states and I scoff, thinking he’s joking. A man of his stature needs to borrow my old car? Funny.

“Keys, Y/N! Now!” He raised his voice at me, shaking me up for he never did that after I initially spilled a drink on him. He’s always been calm and patient. This is a new side to him. One I’ve never seen.

“It’s a piece of junk. Might not even start.” I defend my Impala, the only object in my life that matters to me.

“It’s a matter of life and death, okay?! Please?” I didn’t need anymore convincing, fishing out my keys. He snatched them out my hand, pressing a hard, quick peck to my cheek as he and Ethan ran out the back, giving me a view of a gun Ethan had in the back of his jeans.

I’m not sure what stunned me more: the peck or the gun. What the hell does he need a gun for?

Grayson didn’t return the next night. Nor the next one. Not that week, leaving me frustrated after getting a call from the police about my wrecked car, abandoned in Brooklyn.

Without a car, or any answers, I took matters in my own hands.

I walked into DT media every day after class and requested to see Grayson Dolan only to be turned around.

Unlucky for him, I’m not a quitter.

I badgered his business on daily basis over internet, phones, letters, faxes, in person. All in order to get something concrete to justify why I no longer have my car…the only thing I gave a damn about.

Until luck struck like lightning.

“Grayson Bailey Dolan!” I shouted in the lobby, catching his fleeting figure leaving the elevator.

He tensed up, turning toward me with a stony face and a hint of annoyance in his eyes.

I rushed toward him, glaring at him on the way.

“You’ve been a pain in the ass these days.” Grayson states, not allowing me to speak first and I chuckle dryly.

“And you borrowed my car, wrecked it and abandoned it in Brooklyn!” I grumble, certain my blood pressure is off the charts.

“So?” He clicks his tongue, lifting his right hand to check the time as if this conversation is just another thing he wants to wrap up and get rid of me.

“So?!” I look at him in disbelief, my blood boiling.

“It took me four hundred dollars to get it back after it was impounded by police! Two hundred to tow it to the nearest mechanic! And now they say it will cost me more to fix the car than to buy a new one!” My voice echoed throughout the fairly empty lobby, most people dare not look our way just like in the club.

“Again. Why is this my problem?” Grayson points a finger at himself and I am sure my eyes now hold actual flames from the fire he unleashed inside me.

“I want my damn car fixed, Grayson! Cough up the cash or get me your insurance company info, do something!” Voice raw from shouting, I found myself at my wits end, ready to give up.

“I have no idea why I’d do that for you. I had nothing to do with your car being totaled.” He shrugged, walking past me.

I grab him by the arm, forcing him to stop and look at me. His muscles are hard, big under my touch and his eyes threatening as he towers over me with his lips set in a firm line. His forehead wrinkles and a single hair falls out of place on his perfect head.

Straightening my back, I look him straight in the eyes, not allowing his built to intimidate me.

“You will fix my car or I’ll be your worst nightmare.” With my voice dark and low, I realize I’m actually threatening a man much more powerful than I could ever be.

“If you think I was a nuisance before, you’ll be shocked to see how far I’ll go to get what’s mine.” With that, I let go of him and walk right by him, intentionally ramming my shoulder into his. It hurt me more than it hurt him, but it’s the message behind that move that counts!

Next time I saw him was a week later, once more in his seat at the club and my services requested again.

“Hello, my little nuisance.” He greets me with a wide smile, taking the glass in his hand before I have the chance to put it before him.

I huffed, narrowing my eyes at him chiefly to take in the leather jacket, bad guy, James Dean look he’s sporting instead of the usual suit and tie I’ve come to love.

This felt more relaxed, but much more dangerous. The last time I saw him wearing leather was the night I said goodbye to my car.

“Anything else, sir?” I emphasize, making his brother burst into laughter, Grayson himself placing a hand over his chest.

“Ouch, doll. What did I ever do to deserve this?” He faked a pained expression, but a smile on his lips is a dead giveaway this is all just a joke to him.

“I’m not your doll! And you owe me something.” I lean back, grabbing my tray from the table quickly.

But he is quicker than I am.

In moments, his arm wrapped around my elbow, pulling me into his now standing form. I gasp involuntarily due to a mixture of genuine surprise and his body against mine.

Firm in all the right places, that’s the first thing I notice.

Warm, engulfing me in that warmth, that’s the second one.

Smell of cologne and not the store bought kind like I’m used to, but the expensive kind where one bottle would pay for my car to be fixed. That’s the third.

“When your shift ends, I’ll be waiting.” With that, he let go of me and a sudden wave of polar coldness spread through me. The tone he used wasn’t meant to frighten me, but a part of me did fear him. There’s more to the Grayson Dolan who wears suits and expensive watches than it meets the eye. There’s something there, much more sinister than anyone could comprehend.

I rushed back to the bar, still holding my breath as my lungs begin to burn from the lack of oxygen. I watched the clock with dread, seeing I have an hour left and to my surprise, I wasn’t called back for Grayson slipped me the cash when he let go of me.

Confident he forgot, I walked outside and almost had a heart attack when I saw him leaning on a baby blue Porsche with his arms crossed over his chest.

A car parked behind his was a simple jeep, his brother behind the wheel.

“Why are you here?” I cross my arms too, holding my bag closer.

“You said I owe you and well, I’m a man who pays his debts.” The confident smirk of his reappears, wiping all my confidence away in an instance.

“Like it?” He gestures to the car and I furrow my eyebrows in response.

“Your dream car if I’m right?” It’s a rhetorical question, that much is clear. His glances from the car to me only fuel my confusion. How deep did he go when he investigated me?

“Yes. But -” I begin, raising my right hand to my temple, pressing two fingers to it to ease the growing pressure.

“It’s yours.” Grayson states and I feel my legs lose their footing and waver.

“The fuck?! Grayson I asked for a few thousands to fix my Impala, not for a Porsche!” I shout, my voice high and almost shrill from the shock.

“Are you seriously yelling at me for giving you your dream car?” Grayson chuckles, sauntering toward me with the dreamiest look in his dark eyes. I pause, noticing the power behind those breathtaking eyes. The power that's as reckless as a tornado. His eyes flash. For a moment they look golden with warmth... and as careless as hell.

Pushing my hair back, securing it behind my ears, I look at him in disbelief.

“It’s a very beautiful car, but I can’t accept something so expensive.” Trying to keep my voice leveled, I sigh, rubbing my forehead now.

“Yes, you can. You deserve actual beauty in your life…well, beauty besides yourself.” He states, coming closer and my eyes widen, wild in the realization he just complimented me without a second thought.

“You’re not my sugar daddy and I am not a gold digger, Grayson.” I barely get the words out before he closes the distance between us, pressing his index finger to my lips. Tentatively, he traces my cupid bow, then my lower lip as if he’s searching something in the smallest of nooks of the soft flesh.

“I just want you to have something nice for once. Just accept the car, okay?” A part of me felt self-conscious with our close proximity, wondering if he can see the growing zit on my left cheek or if he could notice the eye bags I’ve been trying to cover up with a ton of make-up but failed, but another part of me hoped he would stop this torture where my heart thumped so strongly when he neared me and just kiss me already, ending the intoxicating desire to have him closer than humanly possible.

And just as I give in, gravitating toward him, slowly standing on my tiptoes, Grayson takes two steps back, making me nearly fall in his sudden need for space.

“Take the car, because it’s used. Does that help?” He continues his mission to convince me and I let out a shaky breath upon the loss of his touch. I wanted him. Now I knew that for sure. I longed for him.

“Used?” I raise a brow in question, wanting to keep the conversation going simply to have him with me longer.

“I already had it cleaned, but I may have christened the back seat twice…the front seat a couple times more.” My eyes popped at his confession, disgust at the implications and jealousy for I wanted that and although I’m not an idiot to assume he’s untouched, I didn’t need to picture him with other girls in the very car he’s offering me.

The keys come flying at me and I barely catch them before they smack my chest. Grayson walks to the other car, opening the Jeep doors with a wink sent my way.

However, I rushed after him, pocketing the keys in his jacket.

“Goodnight, sir.”

Walking away, I heard a loud groan and smiled at the sound. Wrapping my jacket around my body tighter, folding my arms over my chest for additional warmth, I keep walking into the night on high alert. Its pass two after midnight and I’m a cautious type. And for good reason.

“Get in.” A car stops beside me - a baby blue Porsche.

“Nope.” I don’t spare him a second look. He needs to learn to let things go. I’m certain he’s never had a woman say no to him before.

“Y/N, get in or I will make you get in!” He shouts, practically growling and I shake my head, keeping my eyes ahead.

That’s when he stops the car and is by me in a heartbeat. Next thing I know, I’m pushed into the car with a fleeting warmth from his arms before the door locks and I find myself stuck inside as Grayson sits in the passenger’s seat.

“What the fuck, Grayson?!” I try to open the door again, getting a smug smile on his behalf.

“You’re walking the streets dressed like that so late? Not on my watch.” His gruff voice and fingers paling against the steering wheel made me pipe down, knowing he’s right. Yes, it’s dangerous, but I had no choice in the matter.

“Well, someone ruined my car.” I mumble under my breath and he sighs, shaking his head at me before craning his neck to look at me properly.

“I’ll get your fucking car fixed, okay?” The language he uses matched his frustration with me and I could hardly contain my smile.

“So stubborn.” He’s the one mumbling now and my efforts to keep a smile at bay fail me and he notices almost immediately.

“Oh, you think this is funny? Let’s see how funny it is when I drive you home every night until I have your car fixed.” And my smile is effectively replaced with lips parting and eyes narrowing at the handsome man beside me. Okay, it’s not necessarily a bad thing to get more time with a handsome man such as himself, but the fact he’s so determined unnerves me.

“You’re not the boss of me, okay? I understand you’re used to bossing everyone around and having things your way, but I’m not a doll you can play with and expect to obey your unwritten rules.” Pulling my bag closer to my chest, I avert my gaze to the window, looking out to see he is driving me straight home because as he said it before, he knows where I live.

“I’m sorry.” He says through gritted teeth, like the words in his mouth are alien, acid. I’m sure he’s not the type to spew apologies often. It makes me appreciate the effort even more.

“I just want you safe. Is that a good enough reason to drive you home after I destroyed your car?” He asks, stopping in front of my building and I turn to him with a smile when he unlocks my door.

“You finally admit it.” I grant him a smile, moving to open the door with my right hand when he takes my left one. He brings it to his lips, pressing the back of it into his heavenly plush and I’m sure the gesture made me blush like a schoolgirl.

“See you tomorrow, doll.”

And I did.

Grayson wasn’t shy about his frequent visits and I didn’t hide how happy those visits made me. I know I said he and I wouldn’t work because he’d never give me time of the day, but I was wrong. The more time I got to spend with him on the rides after work, the more I craved his company.

The first night after centered on a squabble for the radio.

“The driver picks music!” He slapped my hand away and I slapped his right back.

“I’d be the driver if I had my car, you know.” I narrowed my eyes at him and his devilish smirk widened at my remark.

“You can’t play the guilt card forever, you know?” He emphasized the last bit, mimicking my voice to the best of his ability to provoke a response and he definitely got one. I hogged the radio for the rest of our drives as result of him being unable to handle my silent treatment.

Our interactions in the club remained professional for the most part, nothing to make anyone suspicious, no one knowing the truth but his brother who always minded his own business as if to give us a sense of privacy.

Night after night, I went to work with a smile, finally content with my life.

Day after day, I looked forward to the darkness that takes the city hostage for hours on end because that darkness brought me him.

‘I won’t be in tonight, doll. I’ll come by to pick you up after.’

My heart sunk at the thought of our time being cut short tonight, making the shift drag on. That’s until I was requested by name in the VIP section.

Happy to know he made it anyway, I grab his usual and rush to the table I’m used to seeing him at. I used to dread it, but it’s become my favorite part of the club.

However, once I walk in there, Grayson isn’t the one in the seat.

“Oh, I’m sorry sir. What would you like to order?” I quickly plaster on my fake smile, letting the professional in me take over as I scan the slightly older man and the snake tattoos on his neck. Swallowing thickly as he allowed himself the time to look me up and down like I’m there for his pleasure instead to serve him drinks, I used the time to properly remember him for future needs.

He’s someone I need to beware of, I just felt it.

“Don’t worry, doll. You got my drink just right. You with a side of whiskey.” The man spoke, his voice rough like sandpaper, my nickname sounding unnatural coming from him. It’s the nickname Grayson had given me and after a lot of bickering about it, I’ve learned to love it – love the way he said it with a longing smile and an oddly gentle look in his eye. This man said it like it was a swear word, something that is meant to harm you.

“I’m afraid I’m not on the menu, but the drinks sure are.” I remark, placing the drinks in front of him and his two men, showing him no fear. But I am scared. You can easily tell who the bad guy is and this guy seems to be one of the worst.

“That’s too bad, doll. I thought it said Y/N on here.” He leans back, raising his left leg up so his left ankle rests on his right knee. He’s spread out in his seat, trying to take as much space as he can and he isn’t shy about making sure I know it when he reaches for his dick to scratch.

Disgusting.

“How do you know my name?” I quirk a brow, feeling my brain catching up with his words. He’s using my nickname, my name and he’s sitting in this particular booth.

“Tell my old friend Grayson, Damien sends his regards. Can you handle that, doll?” Even the mention of Grayson’s name makes my heart pick up pace, the back of my neck now drenched in cold sweat and my fingers numbing from fear.

“I’m not sure who you’re referring to, sir.” I lie through my teeth, hearing my inner voice warning me this man is not to be trusted. Whatever it is that he wants, I can’t let him know about my friendship with Grayson.

“Oh, I think you do, doll.” He winks at me, casually bringing the glass to his lips and taking a sip before I take a step back and politely smile back as expected of me.

“If that’s all, I have to get back to the bar.” I duck out of there as fast as possible, minding my walk so it doesn’t seem like I’m running. I can’t let them know they inspired fear, because that would give away all I’ve tried to hide.

Locking myself in the bathroom, I quickly text Grayson.

‘Who the hell is Damien and why is he telling me to send you his regards?!’

No answer.

‘Grayson, he called me doll the entire time and he sat in your booth, in your seat and requested me by name.’ I type furiously, my fingers trembling as I do. I find myself picking at my nail polish nervously, feeling my mind is on fire with the waiting period. Any answer on his behalf would soothe me, but I can’t even breathe until I finally hear the sound.

My phone rings.

“Get out of there now!” Grayson shouts and I frown, looking around the bathroom panicked. I was wrong. His voice didn’t soothe me for I could hear the worry laced behind his shouting and it made the dread in my stomach that much worse.

“Why? What’s going on?” I question, my words coming out fast just as my legs turn to jelly.

“I’ll be there in five, already on my way, doll.” There it is…the glorious sound of my nickname coming from his lips – so effortlessly beautiful.

“O-okay.” I grimace as I stutter, hating the fear that crept up to me and took over every cell in my body.

“Just breathe, okay? Leave everything and don’t tell anyone you’re going out.” I listen to his instructions, but I can’t just leave.

“If I do that, I’ll lose this job. Grayson, I need this job!” I fumble with my apron, unable to untie the knot with just one hand. Pressing the phone against my cheek with the support of my left shoulder, I use my nails to untie the damn knot and the apron falls to the bathroom floor.

“Fuck the job! I’ll find you a different job! A better one! But you have to leave. Y/N, do you trust me?” Grayson’s panic overwhelms me, for I never heard this man sound quite so worried other than the night he asked for my keys. I know how well that turned out, so his worry translates to me freaking out.

Pausing before answering, my eyes closed shut as I try to silence my mind for a moment to think.

“Doll, trust me. Please.” And that’s when I know what to do without thinking.

Grayson Dolan is a man of many virtues, but begging wasn’t one of them. He’s the man who demands and makes things happen. Such men don’t strike you as someone who plead often. And this was Grayson Dolan pleading, asking me to do something irrational without an explanation and I trusted him.

In that moment, I trusted him with my life.

“Alright.” I press my lips together, opening the door and quickly moving around the dancing drunken people. Looking around, I made my way to the nearest exit, shutting the door behind me and walking into the alley.

“I’m almost there. Stay on the line.” Grayson’s voice shakes me up, reminding me he’s still there. I wouldn’t have heard him inside, but I heard him perfectly in this moment. Now it offers some of that comfort I craved, letting my knots be untied slowly.

He’s coming for me. I’m going to be okay.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” That rough, sinister voice made my heart stop beating and breath halt in my throat. Turning around, I blinked slow, afraid of the man who licked his lips and flicked his cigar to the side like he just found his entertainment for tonight.

“I’m just taking a break. Talking to my sister and her husband.” I point to the phone, making up an excuse and hoping to hear Grayson on the other end. But the line is silent.

Fuck. I just need to hear his voice to calm down, but without it, I feel myself slipping into the clutches of pure fear.

“Ah, family. How cute. My family is tight too.” He comes closer to me, pushing back his wavy tapper and I notice a vertical scar running along his entire right side of the face.

“Very tight.” He repeats, making sure I understood him well. The closer he gets, the more steps I take back to keep the distance between us. But I know should he wish it, I’d be caught in his grip shortly. I’m no match for him.

“Now, why don’t we get acquainted better and you can tell Grayson how good I made you feel?” He sneers, grabbing both my hands and pushing me into the wall next to me, slamming my head into it in the process.

My thought process is jumbled, my eyes barely opening from the impact and I feel warm liquid dripping down my neck as he presses closer to me, fumbling with his jeans. All my fight or flight instincts kick in as I drive my left knee up and into his nether region immediately.

He groans, doubling down before growling like a wounded beast. I stumble forward, still hazy from the blow and stop dead in my tracks when bright lights blind me and arms grab onto me. I fall into a hard chest, feeling warmth engulf me and a familiar scent of cologne intoxicates my senses.

It’s Grayson. I need no vision to see when my heart feels him.

“Take her.” He pushes me into someone else, the warmth and smell changing, but I don’t feel any less safe. I know he’d never let someone untrustworthy hold me.

I still turn around, looking at his dark figure over my right shoulder.

“Gray.” I manage to croak out, weak and faint.

He glances at me with his eyes wide in worry and a soft expression on his face.

Until Damien coughs, laughing.

In split second, I saw Grayson’s eyes turn dark and cloudy with hatred and rage, his face contorting, hardening as every muscle clenched and it didn’t look like Grayson I know anymore.

This is a machine.

“Take her!” He barks a command at the man holding me, walking toward Damien with hands turned to fists – each of his fists reflecting light off the brass knuckles on them. My eyes widen and I trash against the man who tightens his hold on me.

I watch Grayson begin throwing punches as I’m dragged into the back seat of a Jeep, realizing it’s Ethan who has me.

“Don’t look. Okay? Just look at me?” Ethan takes my face in his hands, keeping it steady as I hear the grunts, swearing in the distance. I could barely focus on anything, the ringing in my ears growing louder and my vision blurring. For a moment I was sure I saw them both, but it was just Ethan’s face doubling before my eyes. Not a bad sight to witness.

“I’m not…f-feeling w-w-well.” I stammer, my eyes rolling back into my skull as the last things I hear before passing out are a loud “FUCK” and a gunshot cracking in the air as loud as thunder.

**

Waking up to a splitting headache and hushed bickering left me with a dire need to calm my wild heart. Squinting because the light is too bright for me to process properly, I shield my eyes from the brightness with a hand raised toward the ceiling. Using my other hand to help my heavy body into a sitting position, I push my legs over the edge touching the hardwood floor with the tips of my toes.

Grabbing my head with both hands in an attempt to keep it on my shoulder, I grimace from the aches I started to feel in my entire body. The nausea didn’t help either.

Forcing myself to look around, I found myself in a bright, airy room with dominant white and red colors thanks to the squeaky clean look the room held. The walls are white as pearls, sheets a deep maroon to match the antique looking furniture around me. Every cabinet, drawer, even the closet door are a reddish color with flowery and bird themes. To my surprise, there’s even a keyboard in one corner, a guitar right beside the bed and several potted plants around.

All in all, I have no idea where I am and it brings the disorienting feeling to maximum level. Dizzy, barely holding myself up, I decide to follow the hushed voices. Mostly leaning on the wall, I find the door, entering a long hall with yellow and red colors, words written on the walls and paintings on them I barely looked at as my movements took most my concentration.

Finally at the end of the hall, I peak through the ajar door and find Grayson with his brother.

“You need to fucking cut this shit out, bro!” Ethan leaned toward Grayson who kept his back turned to the door.

“You can’t be out there starting a war for a girl you’re not even with! Have some fucking sense!” Ethan shouted and I bite my lower lip to stop it from quivering once I remember the gunshot I heard just before passing out.

“I’m not an idiot, alright? He’s pushing my boundaries to see how far he can go and if I let him start picking off my people, even the ones that aren’t officially in our crew, that’s when he’ll find us vulnerable.” Grayson reasoned, turning back around and no amount of lip biting could stop me from gasping at the sight, attracting unwanted attention with it.

Grayson’s white shirt was redder than the furniture in his room, more than my nail polish. His sleeves pulled to his elbows reveal his tattooed arms tainted with blood so much so his blue ink was barely visible under the matted substance. His face is coated in blood droplets, his neck bearing the marks as well.

“Y/N?” Grayson says my name with wide eyes as if he didn’t expect to see me right now, but all I can think is ‘run’.

No matter what he meant to me so far, this was too much for anyone to handle. He had hurt someone and I couldn’t make myself stay and look at him any longer. I don’t care that the person he hurt was scum, or that it was for me, only that his hands aren’t clean and he’s unpredictable.

Stumbling back in hopes of running, my legs give out and I fall flat on my ass with a pained ‘oof’, panic taking over me once he opens the door and I realize I can’t run.

Propped up only by my hands, legs tucked closer to me, eyes flickering from one twin to the other, I start dragging myself back and away from him.

Grayson takes a step closer and I feel a scream forming in my throat and just before I let it out, Ethan grabs his brother by the arm and pulls him back.

“Bro, look at her. She’s terrified of us.”

Grayson turned his eyes to me, a gentle look in his eyes just as it was when I called him Gray. But a speck of blood by his right eye is enough to keep me rooted and not give into his charmingly good looks. The fear sits on me like a pillow over my mouth and nose. Enough air gets by it, allowing my body to keep functioning, but it's crippling all the same. I never thought I’d be scared of Grayson Dolan ever again, the feeling so foreign after all the sweet moments we’ve shared.

Was it all an illusion?

“Y/N.” He starts slowly, lifting his hands up toward me in surrender, slowly bending down until he sits on the floor on his knees.

“It’s still me, okay?” His voice is softened, laced with care and worry, but I shake my head in denial.

“It’s not you. You’re not the Grayson Dolan I know.” I reply, barely keeping my voice from spiraling into the wailing cracks I’ve felt tearing at my throat.

“Doll…” He tries, the corners of his lips twitching as he swallows thickly, struggling to find the right words to say. But to call me that name again…that’s not the right thing, not by a long shot.

“Don’t call me that!” I shout, my own loudness echoing inside my head. Forced to shut my eyes until the sudden wave of pain wavers, I struggle to breathe with images of all the times Grayson showed me kindness overwhelm me.

Why is my own brain working against me?

“I’m sorry, love. I’m so sorry.” He says quietly, his voice just above a whisper but calm and steady.

The adrenaline floods my system like it's on an intravenous drip - right into my blood at full pelt. I think my heart will explode and my eyes are wide, letting in every ounce of the fading light. My body wants to either run fast for the hills or work to find weaponry, but instead I stay right where I am. Sometimes freezing is the best of the choices, and let's face it, there really are only three.

“Who the hell are you, Grayson? Really?” I question, pushing myself forward to relieve my arms from the pressure of holding me up entirely. I wasn’t leaving anytime soon due to my inability to stand and the dizziness settling in, but I also needed answers.

“I’ll tell you everything you need to know, just…Not now. You need to rest now.” Grayson offered me his hand to take and I narrowed my eyes at him – not only in suspicion and judgement, but to focus long enough to see him well enough instead of three blurry versions of him.

“I can’t rest with...”I pause, swallowing my spit to keep myself from throwing up.

“With a man drenched in blood who I obviously know nothing about.” I finish the words, seeing his curt nod at the last moment before he stands up.

“When you stop seeing double, I’ll answer all your questions. Until then, my brother will take you to sleep as the doctor requested after giving you those sedatives. Goodnight.” Grayson’s jaw clenched before he turned around and walked out, leaving me alone with Ethan who huffed before he crouched beside me.

I instantly relax, refusing to feel guilty about the hurt in Grayson’s eyes.

“Can’t get up, huh?” He guessed about right, a half smile on his face when he notices me nod in defeat.

“Let’s go, princess.” The next thing I know I’m wrapped in his arms, my head on his shoulder as the small steps he takes lull me to sleep before he even puts me down.

**

Waking up once more in the white room I now recognize faintly, I rub my eyes but remain lying down. Breathing softly, I stare at the ceiling for minutes…maybe hours before I’m ready to get up and face whatever the mystery of Grayson Dolan is.

Looking to the nightstand, I find a glass of water with tiny bubbles of air pushing themselves at the edges of the glass signifying it’s been there for a while now. Besides the glass, there’s a pill with a note next to it and I sit up with a low groan as my head still hurts bad.

Aspirin. Drink it, put on the clothes laid out in the bathroom and come downstairs. If you want to shower, there’s warm water and clean towels as well.

Eyeing the note, I see no one’s signed it. Assuming it’s Ethan’s handwriting, I get up and make my way to the bathroom which is immaculate just as the room. It smells…clean.

I quickly take a shower, noticing some blood wash out of my hair in the process and I remember my head smashing into a concrete wall that night as well. It’s probably why my head’s so badly hurt and my senses barely work.

Towel drying my hair and body, I pick up the clothes with caution and examine them. A black shirt that acts as a dress on me, falling all the way down to my knees. A fresh pair of underwear that suspiciously looks like something I already own and knee high male socks. That’s what’s left for me and I have no choice but put them on for my own clothes are far too dirty to be worn again before washing.

The minute I walk out the room, I’m back in the hallway with a little more focus than the night before. The walls are painted into a sunrise and the words written go with the painting – House of the rising sun.

I could smell breakfast in the air, eggs and toast most likely from what I could tell. My stomach turned, crying for something of substance to be given for digestion as the mating song of whales sounded. Rubbing it gently, I walked downstairs, finding the kitchen on my far right.

Walking into the room made life stop as everyone turned to look at me, frozen in the moment and I’ve never felt so self-conscious before. It’s as if I’m standing naked on stage with every eye in the house focused on my every flaw. No make-up, no clothes that fit my body and no dimmed lights to hide anything. I’m just me and I’m painfully aware of that as my eyes find Grayson’s before averting my gaze to the floor.

Grayson, Ethan and two women sat at the table, all staring at me.

“Well come on in, we won’t bite.” The older woman beckoned me to come closer and take a seat, standing up to help me which I’m very grateful for considering I’m still unsure on my feet.

“Thank you.” I keep my eyes on the table, pursing my lips slightly as a plate is set before me.

“How are you feeling?” The other girl asks and I look up politely, faking a smile for social purposes.

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck and then trapped in a nightmare.” My response makes the girl chuckle. She claps her hands together, leaning forward.

“I like you.” She lets me know and I furrow my brows, daring to look at Grayson who’s still unmoving and his eyes remain trained on me. He’s watching me carefully for any reaction, making me more nervous than before.

Unable to stop myself from hyper salivating at the food in front of me, I practically chowed down on the contents until there was barely a crumb left.

“Well, we should go back. The jet awaits.” The older woman stood, wiping her mouth with a napkin before planting a kiss on both brother’s foreheads and the younger one simply flipped them off and sent me a small wave.

I looked at the girls in slight panic, feeling much safer with them there.

“Don’t let my sons fool you, okay? They’re still very much little boys with golden hearts and pure souls.” The older woman pecks my cheek and I find myself gobsmacked with the realization that this was Grayson’s mother and I barely spoke to the woman. The other girl looked a lot like them, guessing it was their sister.

“I’ll walk you out, ma’” Ethan gently put his arm around his mother, guiding her out the room, the other girl already gone – leaving me alone with Grayson.

He clears his throat awkwardly, picking up the dishes and I help him silently.

“You should, uh, rest. I’ll do it.” Grayson takes the dishes from me, his fingers brushing mine and it’s like a bolt of electricity rushing from my fingers up my arms. Retracting them fast, I wrap my arms around myself, leaning on the counter while he cleans up.

“Your mother seems nice.” I state, unable to handle the silence. There’s too many unsaid things between us and I know he doesn’t technically owe me any answers, but I deserve to know what went down that night. I’m probably jobless, carless and soon to be homeless – all since I met him and we’re not even together.

“Much nicer than my sister.” He muses and I smile, happy I got that right.

“So, you…probably want to talk now?” I don’t miss the nervous tapping of his fingers against the counter nor the way he avoids looking at me now. Grayson isn’t the type to get nervous, but he sure as hell looked to be drowning in his nerves in this particular moment.

“Would be good to know why my life went up in flames.” I shrug, pressing my lips together and a breathless chuckle accompanied by a quick nod is my response.

“I want to be completely honest with you.” Grayson walks by me and I follow after without a word. He walks out the kitchen and toward the stairs, continuing.

“We’re about to go full dark, no stars and if you can’t handle some things, now would be a good time to tell me.” Grayson warns and I feel my heart fall, uncertain with the darkness he offers to show me. I’ve always been afraid of the dark, even more so of falling…in any way and I’ve found myself at a doorstep with both my fears on the other side – his dark side and my feelings for him that continue to grow even with everything I’ve learned about him so far.

We walk upstairs, back to the room I woke up in – the sheets already changed and the fresh smell circulating the room.

“Hope you found the bed comfortable. It’s been serving me well for years.” He glances over his shoulder, gauging my reaction and I find myself uneasy, but also excited over the fact. It’s his room. This entire room is a testament to his colorful personality – clean cut, but various shades of the good and the bad swirling inside him.

“Uh, yeah. Really comfy.” I proceed to plop on the fluff, watching him sit on a chair by his keyboard, turning fully to face me.

“Are you prepared to hear the ugly truth or should I sugarcoat everything?” He questions and I roll my eyes at him.

“Don’t lie to my anymore. I want to know everything.”

He nods approvingly, almost impressed by my assertiveness.

“Well, I’ll speak frankly. I’ve always believed that the ability to speak to someone without overthinking your words, to be at ease with someone so much that you trust them with your deepest darkest truths…that is the definition of true l – friendship.” He stops himself just in time, redefining whatever was at the top of his tongue and I nod, agreeing with him.

3rd Person POV

“My business runs much deeper than the world knows. It includes a lot of legitimate establishments, many outstanding businesses, but also some that aren’t as legal to say.” Oh how bewildered she looked, so doubtful and quizzical. So reluctant to facing the real facts although she knew one day she would face no choice, for she was trying so hard to stop the vicious, secular things her mind was already turning his truths into...She was only beginning to know him and already she was overwhelmed by all she knew. But she had to know all he is for all he is all she cares for, but to know him is to love him and so she felt herself shake with fear of falling for a man as magnificent, as dangerous as Grayson Dolan.

“I own illegal casinos, speak easy in every damn city you can name, gentlemen’s clubs – some legitimate and some for specific clientele, gun trading and internet companies, art thievery and many more…In my world I am known as the leader of The House of the rising sun and it’s a gang on a global scale.” His words rip through her like glass shards do to skin, but he can barely tell if she’s shaking because he’s started to tremble himself. It’s strange to feel so nervous around a girl he barely knew, but he did know her. He knew almost everything about her and there was no way of denying it.

He knew her mood just by her smile, noticing the stiffness of her cheeks when she fake smiled at demanding customers and the real one she beamed at him more often than not. He knew her favorite color is baby blue and favorite car brand is a Porsche. He knew of her family and her desire to leave the small town she was born in. He learned of her financial struggles and her desire to attend Columbia. He knew she chewed on her bottom lip when she’s nervous, just as she picks at her nails because her nail polish was always damaged at the sides. He knew she washed her hair every night because he could smell the lavender scent every time she leaned down to put his drinks on the table. He knew her lilac perfume was store brand and nothing fancy like the girls he’s used to usually have on, but he learned to enjoy the smell for it reminded him of her. There are a thousand things he knows about her that aren’t in any research his men did for him, simply by observing her every night for as long as he could without compromising himself. So yes, he cared for her and her opinion of him.

“And that man…Damien was the son of my biggest rival. The man was a snake and he broke major rules that night.” Grayson’s hand formed a fist, the memory of what he almost did to Y/N washing over him only ignite the fire that barely extinguished itself once he saw the fear in her beautiful eyes the night before.

“Was?” She asks cautiously. She trembles and shivers, then looks at him with pleading eyes. Hoping, just hoping not to hear the words that without doubt would reaffirm her initial fear of what truly happened that night.

“He’s no longer an issue.” Grayson replies, flexing his arms and the inked biceps grow under the pressure before deflating ever so slightly.

“How many people have you killed?” Y/N stands, her hand covering her mouth. So frantic of the deceitfulness of the forthcoming actuality.

“Too many to count…But I know why they’re dead. They threatened me and my family. My loved ones. No one can do that and live. Not while I’m around.” Grayson stood as well, noticing her hand fall and her bottom lip is trapped between her pearly whites, being tortured as she nibbles on it.

He wanted to do that badly, to bruise her lips as he bit it while her lips molded with his.

“You can’t just go around killing people! You let the law handle it!” She exclaimed, watching him shake his head vehemently.

“The only justice in this world is the one we make ourselves.” Deciding to table the discussion of morality for now, she shook her head and looked at him.

“So why did I become a target?” She put her hands on her hips, releasing the soft flesh of her bottom lip a shade darker, enticing Grayson to lick his lips.

“I’ve come to…care…for you.” He paused between each statement, searching for words that aren’t quite heavy and are easily taken back should need be.

“And now what?” Y/N tilts her head up, meeting his gaze in determination.

“You’ll be in danger for a while and I can’t in good consciousness let you go back to your old life. Staying here with me is the best way to go.” Grayson’s words make her scoff, but once he raises his eyebrows to her little huff and puff show she realizes he’s serious.

“I can’t drop everything just so you can babysit me!” Her voice goes higher than Grayson knew it could, pushing forth a dirty thought about him eliciting the same sound from her in bed.

“Grayson!” She snaps her fingers in front of his face, forcing him to look at her again.

“You either stay and let me deal with this issue or go home and get yourself killed. Your choice.” He turned to walk out the room, but her hand quickly clasped on his shoulder and he stopped, turning to her halfway.

“I’ll also go stir crazy if you force me to sit alone in this big old house with nothing to do.” She sighs, defeat written in every line of the pretty face he admired.

“You can help me organize my paperwork.” Grayson offered, reminding himself to mess the paperwork up for he always kept his records straight. But she didn’t have to know that.

The smile that spread on her lips assured him she’s on board, relaxing his heart for a while.

While she demanded a different room to stay in, despite his offer to share a bed, Grayson granted her a room right next to his. He wanted her close just in case something happened.

“How do you know we’re safe here?” She once asked him, making him chuckle.

“This is my city. Only a man with a death wish would dare step foot in this street, let alone my house.” And it calmed her for a while, but it didn’t make the possibility disappear from her worries.

Working with him whenever he’s home, Y/N learned a lot more about his alleged businesses. All of them proved to be lucrative, bringing in millions upon millions to his bank accounts. Several of them – most hidden in offshore locations for insurance. She also found him to be a generous donor to many children hospitals and cancer research centers, for homeless people and ASPCA. Even though she absolutely refused to admit it to herself, it made his room inside her heart grow.

She learned he likes his morning coffee black and anymore caffeine would drive his anxiety up to impossible levels which made her restrict his caffeine intake. She also learned he’s very quiet when work is involved, but also ruthless when necessary. She found him to be a little cold toward her, but the iceberg slowly melted over time – finding him staring at her whenever he thought she wouldn’t notice. But she did.

She did.

She found him to be lactose intolerant and both brothers refused to take any dairy products, which she loved teasing them about. Surprisingly, she learned he’s also got mild asthma and so many allergies she lost count of – starting with seasonal allergies down to animal allergies. Even with her love for all things furry, she didn’t mind a possibility of a life without them.

It dawned on her when she ended up running her fingers through his hair when she tried to wake him up in the middle of the night because she couldn’t sleep and just wanted to talk to him. Even more when he woke with a soft smile, tapping the spot beside him for her to take. He didn’t yell or complain of her being a nuisance, but allowed her to ramble about her most ridiculous fears about dark and falling in love or out of an airplane which she claimed to be the same thing.

“What are you afraid of?” She asked quietly, wanting to know what makes a man like him cower in fear and hide.

“Closed spaces.” He sighed, turning on his side to look at her profile – the cheeks, her nose, the way her eyes light up even in the dark.

“I’m not a man with many fears, Y/N.” He adds, seeing her nod with a smile.

“Guessed as much.” She puts a hand over her chest, subtly glancing at him.

“Why do you care so much about that Impala?” Grayson asks the tough questions and she turns to her side now as well, their faces so close their noses are inches apart.

“It’s uh…well. I spent four years of high school working odd jobs and collecting every nickel I earned to ensure I have something to use as a way to leave town. Four years and the only thing I could afford was that piece of junk that took me here. When I started my first year in NYU, I didn’t even have a job or a place to live. Impala was my home for months. I slept in the university parking lot, the night security noticing and taking pity by promising to watch over the car so I can get a decent night of sleep without worrying someone will break in and…It represents a big part of my life. All I’ve worked for, the shelter it provided…an adventure. All of it.” She admits, bearing her soul open for him to see and he had nothing short but admiration for the girl before him. She’s much stronger than he gave her credit for and he realized he can’t write her off as easily as he thought. She might be able to handle his lifestyle, him and all it brings.

Throwing his arm over her hip lazily, Grayson brought her closer to him, hearing her breath speed up at the proximity, but so did his.

He didn’t love her, he desired her most of all. He desired her gaze on him as desperately as the air he needs to breath. He desired her skin against his as the food he’d need to live. He desired her lips to speak his name in ecstasy more than the water as he thirsted for her more than anything else in this world.

And in his desire for her he had lost himself entirely. He had lost his cold exterior, becoming putty in her hands. He had lost his ruthlessness toward her, directing it to any and all who’d harm her. He had lost his resolve to stay away simply so he’d give into her with all he is.

So with that desire and the loss of him, he hated her for all of it. He hated her with burning passion. He hated her so much it consumed him.

Or so he told himself so. For in the end, he did nothing to push her away.

He couldn’t.

Not now. Not ever.

Logic demanded him to stop acting the way he is, but his entire logic went out the window the night he met her and that creep put his hands on her. He’s no longer a part of the living anymore either. She’s become his cornerstone and no matter how hard he tried to deny it, it didn’t change. It’s become factual.

“Gray.” She whispered in the haze his closeness brought him, making his lips spread widely.

“I’ve been waiting for two months to hear you call me that again.” Grayson’s not ashamed to admit to it, remembering his own pledge of honesty.

“I held off on it…it makes us too cozy for comfort. Blurs the lines a little.” Her hand presses forward into the bicep of the arm around her, her teeth capturing her bottom lip once more.

“Oh, doll, you have no idea what you do to me at all.” Grayson leans in, his nose brushing hers as all pretense falls. He no longer has the strength to stay away and she doesn’t want him to. It’s been seven months since they met and every moment since then has been filled with mutual desire and need to fulfill their fantasies.

Her hand moves to the side of his face, grazing the two day old stubble he grew simply because she dared him to. He’s never let his facial hair grow before, finding the look unkempt and dirty but the look he saw on her face as he grew the hair made it worth it. He knew it would come in handy eventually and he knew, even in the darkness of the room, that she bore the same look now.

Her heart races as she glances between his lips and his eyes, knowing what he’s thinking. She’s not exactly a virgin, but she’s barely experienced in sex and knowing he must have bedded girls who have not only experience but incredible looks had her doubting her own skill and retreating.

“Hey, hey. What did I do?” Grayson wondered, his voice unusually soft and understanding.

“I just…I’m not sure what’s happening right now.” She admits sheepishly, finding Grayson turn to his other side. Just when she thinks he’s angry and wants to leave her, he turns on the nightlight and comes back to her side with a genuine smile on his lips.

“I was moments away from indulging in my fantasy of feeling your lips against mine.” He responds so casually that Y/N coughs, nearly choking on her own spit.

“You’re not a virgin, are you?” He’s really not holding back, she thinks, shaking her head shyly, her lip finding its spot back between her teeth.

“How many times have you had sex before?” Grayson asks, her eyes widening and her hands covering her face before she turned on her back.

“I thought you were going to just kiss me!” Exclaiming, she giggled, finding it hard to maintain eye contact.

“You and I both know that neither of us would stop at a kiss, no matter how hard we try.” Grayson cocks his eyebrow, noticing one of her hands drop lower and make way for her to look at him with her left eye.

“Once and it was so bad, I barely felt anything but the moment I was no longer a virgin, okay?! I’m not experienced like you and I have no clue what to do, so stop looking at me all sexy like that and let me breathe man!” She dropped both her hands from her face during her little freak out before sitting up in frustration and he sat up, chuckling at her behavior.

“What’s so funny?!” She pushed his right shoulder lightly, annoyed with him. There she is, opening up like never before and he laughs at her.

“The fact that you think I’d judge you for that or the fact that you think you and I having sex would ever compare to the girls I had before. They were all a one night stand.” He laid down, perching himself up on his right elbow so his damn abs were visible in all their perfection and Y/N could barely contain herself.

“And I’d be what exactly?” She pushes for answers he looked ready to provide her with, her heart jumping nervously in her chest.

“Something I’d like to repeat over and over again. I wouldn’t oppose to call it…” He paused, licking his lips. “Dating.” He finished, looking at her wide eyes.

“You’re asking me to be with you? Like, exclusive?” She raised an eyebrow, shifting in her spot so she’s turned to him. Even without her make-up, she’s now accustomed to Grayson seeing her without it and still complimenting her puffy face in the morning when she’s stumbling in the kitchen with Ethan, unable to speak so early before having some breakfast first. It’s something in common she shared with his brother and Grayson found it both frustrating and endearing. And beautiful. He found her truly beautiful with and without make up.

“I guess so. But…I have to be honest with you.” He ran his left hand through his hair, moving it out of his face.

“I’ll never put anything or anyone before my work. That business is my number one priority. The men that work for me and their safety will be my number one priority. You can’t get in the way of that. Ever. Because I will choose The house of the rising sun over you every time.” The painfully honest confession had her frowning, but her desire for him eclipsed her thinking.

She assumed that the choice would never come and she could let herself get lost in Grayson without consequence.

“Okay.” She whispered, letting out a dash of air she held while he stated his terms.

Y/N sighs and leans up, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. Grayson doesn’t move, letting her take the lead if that’s what she needs to feel comfortable. He’s actually still in shock she’s okay with what he had to offer her, which isn’t much.

It isn’t love, just fun and he hoped she understood that.

Grayson looks as she lays back down, her hair tied in a loose braid barely hanging on her left shoulder as gravity settles in. He brushes his nose against hers, using his fingers to tug at the hair clip that held her hair together. Slowly, he leans down, just centimeters above her face, unraveling her braid one strand at a time. It’s painfully slow, building up the moment and her chest rise and fall with a quicker pace as he takes his time in the sweet torture. His lips are ghosting over hers before he tilts his head and starts kissing down her jaw.

She hums, eyes closing with Grayson’s movements.

“I’m going to make you feel so good, doll.” He whispers as her hand reaches down his abdomen, lightly tracing the outlines of his abs. He moves his hand down, reaching for the hem of her shirt, urging her to tug it off.

Y/N sits up and tugs her shirt off, exposing her sports bra and Grayson sends her a smirk as she shyly groans.

“This is so unplanned, it’s not even funny.”

Grayson eyes her, but the smirk disappears as she pushes up and wraps her hands around the back of his neck, pulling his lips to hers. His hands go down to either side of her head as she lays back and pulls him down with her. The kiss deepens and she moans into Grayson’s mouth as he rolls his hips against hers, his hardened length pressing between her legs already. She’s felt more in this make out session than her entire first time experience and she couldn’t contain her excitement about going further with him.

Grayson detaches his lips from hers only to reattach them to the sensitive skin of her neck, learning quickly where she’s most sensitive to his gentle touch. Her eyes close as she tilts her head, giving him more access. He moves one of the straps of her bra aside, enough to start sucking a small mark close to her collarbone. A pleasure-filled sigh falls from her lips as her hand comes up to Grayson’s back, lightly pressing her nails into his skin. A low breath falls from Grayson’s mouth with the sensation, but he continues to leave the hickey, running his tongue over the spot once he’s done to soothe the skin. He wanted to mark her, for his satisfaction alone but judging by the sound she made, it was very much mutual pleasure.

She pushes up, pulling the bra off herself, wanting to move faster, growing impatient.

A smirk comes to Grayson’s face while he wraps his arms around her, bowing his head to press open mouth kisses around her collarbones and down her chest until he reaches her well rounded breasts that he found alluring for months in the dim light of the club she worked in and now he finally had full access, nothing holding him back. One of his hands comes from behind her and plays with one of her nipples, getting a moan for his effort, one of her hands going back to the bed to hold herself up while Grayson’s mouth starts working on the other nipple.

With her eyes closed as she begins to lose herself in the sensation his lips cause, her hips start to buck forward into Grayson’s on instinct.

She pulls Grayson’s head from her breast, bringing his lips to hers before pulling him down with her and pushing his shoulder for her to get on top. His hands instinctively go to her hips, digging his fingers into the soft tissue over the bone. He loves that she’s got some meat on her bones, giving him something to squeeze and hold onto while his mind goes haywire.

Y/N follows the same pattern Grayson did to her neck, satisfied once she’s left her mark on his skin. She kisses her way down his chest, slow enough that it’s becoming teasing. She’s not doing it on purpose, but Grayson’s shaking his head and biting his tongue in order to stop himself from groaning out loud.

Once she reached the hem of the briefs he sleeps in, she slips her thumbs into the waistband, pulling them off and moving to allow him to kick them all the way off while she strips herself of her own underwear before kissing up his thighs and to his hip, around his pelvis and back up his chest, this time intentionally avoiding his twitching length.

She wasn’t sure what to do exactly, only knowing what she read in erotic novels and she was fairly certain they don’t count as proper research for sexual acts.

“Gonna tease me like that all night, doll?” Grayson’s voice is raw with lust as her lips meet his, feeling her core hovering over his length with every nerve in his body.

“If you’re going to look at me like that, I just might.” A cocky smirk comes to her face as she pulls away to meet his stare.

“Fuck no.” Grayson growls, hands coming up to up her face, lips colliding with hers a little rougher than before and she can tell he’s aching for her.

“No more teasing, please.” He mutters against her lips, giving her confidence she’s been lacking. It’s the third time she’s ever heard Grayson Dolan pleading and all those times have been with her. If that doesn’t empower a woman, nothing does.

Without saying a word, Grayson reaches beside her and opens his nightstand drawer for a condom, feeling her smile against his lips. Her legs slightly giving out, she slides her folds against Grayson’s length, inadvertently teasing him while he opens the condom and puts it in place with a few beads of sweat collecting on his chest.

Once ready, Grayson turns them over, his head is against her collarbone, hers against the pillows. He lines his length up with her center, brushing his tip across her folds a few times before stopping entirely.

“You sure, doll?” Grayson wants nothing more than to bury himself deep inside her, but he needs to make sure she’s alright with the way things are going. Before this night they were barely anything concrete and now he’s sweaty and his heart is pounding at the sight of her ready for him and he can’t mess this up by not being absolutely certain she wanted him just as badly as he wants her.

“Gray, please.” With hooded eyes, she’s the one pleading, her hands holding onto his arms for dear life as he slowly pushes into her the very moment he gets reassurance. He feels her fingers dig into his shoulders just as his dig into her hips.

He doesn’t move, opting to rest his forehead against hers, feeling her breath fan his face. Grayson’s aware he’s bigger than most guys and this being only her second time, he mentally face palmed for not preparing her more. He’s just so eager he couldn’t contain himself, but he managed to enter without issue, slowly filling her up inch by inch until he bottomed out, remaining still to let her adjust to his size before grinding into her.

His thrusts are met by her own hips moving on instinct, grunts and moans filling the air and become louder as he increases his pace. He feels himself getting closer, her clenching around him letting him know she’s not too far behind. He can tell by the expression of pure bliss and lust on her face and the pitch of her moans growing just to the sound he wished to get her to make that she’s getting close, so he takes a hand from her hip and presses his thumb to her clit. She jerks forward, a higher moan escaping her throat. His thumb is relentless, keeping its pace until she’s clenching around him and yelling his name, his own grunts and moans coming to an end when his movement turns jerky and he all but collapses on top of her.

Her heart pounds as her sweaty chest meets his head, giving him a perfect way to hear just what he has done to her. He presses a couple of lazy kisses on her chest, resituating on her, planting his feet on the bed but he doesn’t move, not yet.

“Gray.” She whispers, bringing a smile to his lips. Knowing he just felt her first orgasm and that he’s responsible put him on cloud nine. He barely held it together, never ever being the type to fall into a girl and remain there as she scratched the back of his neck like he just did, allowing her to touch him after sex.

“You good, doll?” He asks, barely lifting his head off her chest.

Sex always seemed to be business for Grayson, getting the job done and hopping into the shower before returning to his bed with the girl leaving right after the deed.

Now?

He found himself torn between doing it again or falling asleep in her arms. Lucky for him, she decides for them.

Pushing him to the side, she’s turned the tables on him, reaching for a second condom out his drawer, wanting more.

“Very good.” She responds with a smile.

Y/N lifts herself up and grabs Grayson’s erection, smiling when she sees he’s already good to go. Sliding the condom easily onto him before lining her center up with his tip, she leans down to press a kiss on the left corner of his lips. At an agonizingly slow pace, she sinks down onto him, Grayson’s grip on her sides tightening while her nails go back to digging into the skin, but instead of his shoulders it’s his chest this time around.

Once Grayson’s cock fills her up fully, she takes a minute to adjust just as Grayson did the first time, trusting there’s a reason why he held off for so long. But Grayson is also adjusting to feeling her around him as his eyes take her in. Eyes going from hers, lingering on her breasts, and traveling down to where their lower halves connect, an involuntary groan coming from deep inside his throat at the sight before he looks back up to her. Once his eyes are back on hers, she sends him a lust-filled smirk before she starts moving. Riding him, slowly at first and speeding up as his grip starts to tighten on her hips and her own need grows dire.

Grayson’s name starts sputtering from her lips, hitched breathing in between as her head is thrown back, hair dangling down her back. She starts clenching around Grayson so fast and he takes his chance to move his thumb to her clit once more to help push her over the edge. She jerks at his touch, moaning loudly in ecstasy, louder than before.

“Gray.” She breaths out, gasping for air.

“C'mon, doll.” Grayson pants, the rubbing of his thumb never stopping.

In only seconds, she’s moaning his name, her orgasm hitting hard as she falls onto Grayson’s chest. Grayson’s feet push into the mattress as he pounds into her, chasing his high as he helps her ride out hers. She starts coming down, whispering soft praises into his neck, kissing and biting, sucking on the glistening skin in hopes of successfully leaving a second mark. The whispered praises and assault on his neck are enough to throw him over the edge.

Grayson’s movements come to a halt, his breathing heavy in her ear. He buries his head in the crook of her neck, trailing kisses from her neck to her cheek. An unusually intimate move on his behalf, but she giggles in response, turning her head to look at him before pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

She moves aside, letting him dispose of the used condoms, worn out to move on her own. She can feel all her bones drifted apart to let him in fully, but a blissful smile remains on her face when he comes back, still sweaty and hungry for her. But he can tell she’s already tired, the night turning into so much more than she anticipated and he didn’t want to overwhelm her. Not this night.

Laying back beside her, he wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her right ear before resting his head in the crook of her neck.

“G’dnigt, doll.”

While she slept on his chest, he traced her skin with his fingertips. Grayson knew he’s in over his head and still did nothing to stop it.

**

She always expected sex with Grayson would be rough, something out of her comfort zone. Instead, she got intimacy, genuine lust filled kisses and gentle touches, and craving for one another until there’s no more left to give. She got what she dreamed her first time to be. And in a way it was…it was her first orgasm. And she was happy it was with him.

She could no longer deny that she had fallen for him, but she was damn certain she’d never tell him so.

However, upon opening her eyes, she’s saddened to find the spot beside her empty and she’s all lone in that big bed of his. She half expected him to bring her breakfast in bed or to find him nuzzled in her neck, reminding her that Grayson isn’t the type of guy she usually dates. He’s a gang leader and the tenderness of their night together was surprise on its own, the morning after would have been completely out of character for him.

Sitting up with her head against the headboard, she sighs, pulling her knees closer to her chest. The sheets are wrinkled, out of sorts in every way imaginable. Assuming she looks the same, Y/N smiled to herself and the giddy feeling in her chest grew as she recounted the night before.

“Morning, doll.” Grayson’s voice interrupts her daydreaming, her head turning to him on instinct.

“You’re here?” She states, but it sounds more as a question only confusing him. Why would she expect him to be anywhere else after the night they had?

She took a closer look at him, dressed in a suit – all class and little to no signs of him being anything but the business man she thought him to be. His hair is combed to the side and back, giving him a wind-messed-up-my-hair-but-I-still-look-good kind of a look. Sunrays light up his face, giving his eyes a hazel swirl in a brown orbit, one she deemed magical and not at all earthly. His scruff is now shaved, leaving his skin untouched and he immediately looks five years younger than he is. His lips, the very lips she could still feel against her skin, they spread into a shit eating grin, making her roll her eyes.

While he took a moment to appreciate her disheveled look, he could tell she was scanning him as well. He noted the messy bed hair, finding it looks like a dead raccoon and it still made his heart do a flip. Her eyes are dark, entranced by him, but her lips are parted and wet, letting him know she recently licked the rosy softness he wanted to taste again. Barely covered, a couple of bruises and marks were more than visible under the morning light, giving him a sense of satisfaction for it shows she’s his and his alone now. It reminds him how he watched the marks she left on his neck nearly ten minutes ago, buttoning his shirt all the way to the top to hide them from the world. He’s supposed to be the most eligible bachelor in New York and such marks would surely make people talk.

“You’re staring.” Grayson teases, resting his bawled up hands on the bed, leaning forward to capture her lips in a quick kiss to satisfy his need for her touch.

“And you’re leaving.” She points out, a flash of hurt behind her Y/E/C eyes.

“Gotta attend a meeting and then handle some stuff with E. I’ll be back tonight, doll. You should sleep. Still early for you to be up.” Grayson tilts his head right, placing a kiss on her right cheek before standing up and shooting her a wink.

“Stay safe.” Her words follow him outside, making his chest unnaturally warm with glee he’s unused to feeling. She made him feel things he long forgot were possible to experience as a man of his standing, and it felt good. Really good.

While Grayson attended to his business, Y/N wandered his house in thought. She had long switched to online classes when this whole thing began, but she genuinely missed going to lectures and joking with Carmen at the club. She felt a little alone in the big house because when Grayson and Ethan are gone, she’s left to her own devices. Only a maid or two would cross her path, avoiding chitchat like the plague.

It started feeling like she’s his pet – a dog that mopes around until the owner returns, wagging its tail happily. She hated that comparison, but that’s exactly how her heart would feel when she heard the door open and his face soon came to view.

She tried doing some paperwork, cooking, even completed her assignments for the next week, the very last ones before graduation comes. A part of her knew she’d never get to go, but she hoped Grayson might make an exception and let her see the world once more. Surely the men forgot about her by now.

Something in her heart told her that won’t be an option. There was something inside her that wouldn’t rest, forcing her to busy herself as much as she did. It’s as if something isn’t right in the world and she picked up on it without being aware of it.

But when the knob turned and she whipped around to see who’s at the door, she never expected her gut feeling to be right.

At least a dozen men rushed inside, all of them shouting and none of them with their hands clean. Her eyes widened, searching for the one her heart’s tail wagged for, finding him at the very end of the unknown crowd. His left arm thrown over Ethan’s shoulder, his right hand clutching to his side, his face pale and his mouth set in a firm line, barely standing at all – that’s the image she found waiting for her.

“GRAYSON!” She rushed toward him, her chair falling back from her abrupt movements.

Y/N pushed her way through the men, wrapping her arms around his torso, helping Ethan keep him on his feet.

Feeling a liquid before seeing it, Y/N already knew he’s injured.

“What the fuck happened?!” Her demanding voice stopped the men from speaking, none of them daring to speak but Ethan.

“He got stabbed.” Ethan fills her in, speaking through gritted teeth at the same time as Grayson turns his head toward Y/N, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“It’s fine. I’ll be okay, doll.” His voice is weak, but still so sure that it makes her shake her head vehemently, shaking with him in her arms.

“Stabbed! You got yourself stabbed!” The panic in her voice is palpable, her hand covering his wound on instinct.

“I didn’t do it on purpose.” Grayson chuckles, hissing when his men approach and push Y/N from his side in order to take him upstairs.

“The doc is on his way.” Another one announces, the men gathering around their boss and picking him up before making their way toward the bedroom.

“Ethan, how did this happen?” She turns to his brother who seems more pissed off than scared. She quickly rinses off the blood, not looking at it to stop herself from throwing up.

“The idiot killed someone important against my advice and now he’s paying the price.” Ethan ran a hand through his hair, still matted to his forehead from sweat.

“Who did he kill?” Y/N sits down, feeling her shaky legs could give out any moment now. This isn’t what she signed up for – not knowing if he’ll make it back to her at the end of the day or not. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. She’s still struggling to accept that part of him, unable to connect the dots between the person she’s seen behind the painted veil and the one he is whenever she’s not with him.

She can’t differentiate which Grayson is the real Grayson.

“Damien.” Ethan replies simply, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and taking a chug without grimacing at all. He must be used to the burn, she concludes.

“So, this is my fault.” She drops her gaze, feeling a river of tears coming in and no matter how badly she wanted to stop it, the dam broke and the waterfalls became unstoppable.

“It’s his. He could have roughed him up or something, but he sees red when you’re involved.” Ethan leaned against the counter, placing a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to soothe her and hopefully stop her from crying.

“He even made us let him walk in here on his own two feet, saying you’ll freak out if we carry him inside.” Ethan continues, making a small smile appear on her lips as she wiped the tears with the back of her hand.

“How am I supposed to do this?” She looked up, teary eyed and searched for answers in those brown eyes with hazel swirls that Ethan mirrored. She never thought she’d be a real life Betty Cooper who fell for Jughead Jones instead of a guy like Archie Andrews.

“Decide if it’s worth it. If you love him more than anything in this world – more than school, your friends, your own life…it’s worth it. If not, then walk away. It might be hard after last night –“ Ethan pauses, grimacing at the memory and Y/N blushes, realizing he must have heard them because neither of them tried to control their sounds.

“Will he be okay?” She licks her lips, the salty taste of tears not lost on her as she tries to clear her vision enough to properly see Grayson’s older brother.

“Yeah. Probably just stitches and a couple of weeks in bed. Hopefully you can keep him in there, because that stubborn ass will try and get back out there way too soon.” Ethan chuckles, both of them turning to the door once it opens and a man walks in. The man greets Ethan with a curt nod, moving past them and up the stairs.

“The doctor.” Ethan states, taking a hold of Y/N’s hand.

“And we’ll be watching something until it’s all done.” He pulls her with him, despite her resistance.

“But, I want to be there.” She whines, making him smile to himself. He knew she already made her decision, even if she didn’t.

“When the doc is done, we’ll see him. Until then, be prepared for days of heavy security around the house. When a leader of a gang is attacked, everyone’s on high alert.”

Hearing footsteps from all around, Y/N settled in Ethan’s side for the night. She watched the cartoon he put on without even knowing what’s happening on the screen, her mind with Grayson and the last words she said to him in the morning.

She urged him to stay safe, unaware just how badly he needed to hear that.

It’s like going through the motions, unable to focus on more than one task at a time and her brain opted on focusing on Grayson and what he went through for her sake. He killed for her, hurt people for her…Is that his idea of commitment? Is killing in someone’s name a way to say I love you in his world?

She shuddered with the thought, feeling a light tap on her left shoulder.

“C’mon. The doctor wants to talk to us.” Ethan’s face is softer than before, reassuring and understanding. He knows this is all too much for Y/N, but he appreciates how hard she’s working to pull it together. She’s in a state of shock of some sorts, but he knew seeing Grayson would make her feel better.

“He’s got a deep wound in his side, thankfully mostly muscle injury. Whoever did this was clearly derailed by him and missed all vital organs. He’s lost blood, but I put one bag up and he’s already looking better. Stitches come off in two weeks’ time, no strenuous activity until then. Make him rest up, take his antibiotics and painkillers on time and that’s all. Anything happens, take him to my clinic.”

Y/N nods faintly, her eyes darting over the doctor’s shoulder to take a peek at Grayson, unsuccessfully. She already knew the basics, she’s a damn pre-med for God’s sake. She just wanted to see her man.

“Can I see him now?” She interrupts, impatient and already moving aside to get into the room.

A couple of men are stationed inside, eyeing Y/N suspiciously until Ethan steps inside.

“Leave. He’s safe with us. You know your stations.” With that, the room empties, leaving the three alone in silence.

Y/N shuffles closer to Grayson, seeing he’s laid in the middle of the bed with his eyes closed shut and his mouth is no longer gaping with painful grunts leaving them. His hair sticks to his forehead, his middle wrapped in a bandage, a drip still going to get him some fluids. He looked frail, unlike anything she knew him be. It’s the last word in the dictionary she’d ever use to describe him.

Careful, she sits on the bed by his side, her shaky fingers dipping into his open hand.

“He’s probably hopped up on painkillers.” Ethan sighs, sitting on the bed as well.

“Probably be out till tomorrow.” He adds, helping Y/N breathe properly again. She didn’t like the silence, reminding her only the dead are silent. But she could see Grayson’s chest move, the light up and down that followed his every breath and every heartbeat. It’s all she can focus on.

“I don’t want to leave him.” Her small voice surprises Ethan, but he nods regardless. He didn’t expect anything else.

“I’ll be right across the hall, as usual.” He walked around the bed, pressing a kiss to her temple before walking out, leaving her alone with his brother. They needed to be together, he understood perfectly. Whether they knew it or not, there was no doubt in his mind he’d be calling her his sister one day.

Y/N laid on her side, her hand in his, their fingers intertwined. She fell asleep to the even rhythm of his breathing, her mind finally calm.

“Good morning, doll.” She hears him whisper, his voice hoarse and her eyes snap open at the sound.

“You’re awake!” She sits up, her heart pounding, her hands moving from his to inspect him properly, but not daring actually touch him.

“Sorry. Had a totally different plan on getting you into my bed last night, but this seemed like the only foolproof plan.” Grayson snickers, groaning right after as his hand shoots up to his wound.

“You’re an idiot.” She sighs, leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Now you’re stuck in this bed for a couple of weeks and you’ve shortened my lifespan for at least ten years.” She accuses, pressing a second kiss on him. She couldn’t resist, needing the feel of his lips against hers.

“At least we can have some fun.” He raised an eyebrow, a cheeky smile on his lips that falls when she shakes her head.

“No strenuous activities. Doctor’s orders.” She informs him, pursing her lips and it’s taking everything inside him not to flip them over and claim them as his.

“I’m going to fire that man.” He slaps a hand over his face, dragging it down in disbelief.

“And I’m going to get you some food. And Ethan to help you handle the morning pee situation.” She shrugs off the blankets, getting up as his hand wraps around her right wrist.

“I’d enjoy someone else taking care of my morning wood situation much more.” He kinks his eyebrow, a cocky smile on his lips. She rolls her eyes at him, tugging her wrist back into her own possession.

“That counts as strenuous activity.” She gives him a small wink in return and blows a kiss his way.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“Maybe you’ll be more careful about getting stabbed next time.” She giggles, leaving the room as he shouts after her.

“IT’S NOT MY FAULT!”

Once she returned with his pills in hand, she felt as if she’s caring for a child.

“I don’t wanna.” He whined, closing his mouth shut right after. He barely had anything to eat and now she struggled with talking him into taking his medicine.

“How about we make a deal? Take these and I’ll reward you with a kiss?” She offered, making him smirk. He quickly lifted his head, pressing a small kiss to the left corner of her lips.

“I think I like my rewards in advance.”

Finally, he took his pills, only to plaster a second kiss to her bottom lip.

“And after.”

**

Y/N’s POV

Having him in bed truly helped me get to know him better. Grayson always seemed like a mystery to me, but now I had him right where I wanted him – trapped with me and after repeating the same questions at him for hours, he’d end up answering just to make me shut up.

A little tired, I laid my head on a pillow next to him, absentmindedly tracing the blue-green ink on his tattooed arms. I knew what each tattoo on the rest of his body meant, but these remained a puzzle.

“They’re waves.” He speaks, making me flinch at the sudden pierce of the silent veil that befell us.

“Waves?” I question, waiting for him to expand on his initial statement.

“Yeah. Everything in life comes and goes in waves. The good…the bad…it’s all perfectly balanced in one way or another. It always reminds me that it’s just a normal part of life, adding a new wave whenever something big happens. Blue for bad and green for good.” His answer leaves me deep in thought, but he puts a finger on my chin, lifting it gently to press a butterfly kiss on my nose.

His finger then travels down to his arm, pointing at a large green wave on his right forearm.

“This is the last one I got, about ten months ago.” I look up, lips parted and my heart stops for a moment.

Could it be?

“The same night I left a bar where a particularly beautiful and sassy woman reminded me I still have a heart.”

Not holding back, I quickly press my lips against his, moving my body atop his. Straddling him, the kiss breaks as he grunts and chuckles in pain and I realize I’ve accidentally pressed into his wound with my knee.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” I put a hand over my mouth, shaking my head as I try to figure out what the hell I was thinking. Maneuvering to move off him, he groans once more when my foot grazes the wound unintentionally.

“Oh, you evil woman!” He chuckles, still holding onto his side.

“You’ve made me horny and hurt me at the same time!”

All in all, I liked spending this time with him. It sucks he had to be injured in order for us to have heart to heart conversations every other day, but most of the time we spent together was simply enjoying each other’s company and discovering new traits we were unaware of.

He’s not cold like I used to believe. He’s not a bad guy or someone who inspires fear. He’s not even intimidating. I’ve come to see a heart of gold he’s been hiding for a long time. I’ve learned he’s goofy and spews lame jokes that make me laugh regardless how bad the punchline is. His feet are extremely ticklish and he gets chills whenever my lips come anywhere near his ears. He’s very creative and smart and he plays the keyboard so beautifully, that I’m in awe of this man. Every part of him is an adventure and I couldn’t get enough of him.

So, how did this man ever become a leader of a gang who kills mercilessly?

I get the sense that he’s become torn between being a good man and missing out on all the opportunities life could offer a man as magnificent as him. And I understand that. I do. I just wish I knew a way to get him out of it all. I’d give up everything and move on a deserted island if that’s what it took.

Because I…

I love him.

“Your mother said you have a heart of gold and a pure soul.” I smile, tracing circles on his chest in boredom. I liked being lazy with him, but I was slowly getting crazy from being cooped up with him and I’m sure so did he. The only true contact besides kissing we had was when he snuck up to me and slapped my ass, which became his favorite thing to do.

“My mother always sees the best in me. She’s partial. You should ask my sister Cameron. Bet she’d have an opinion!” He exclaims, making me smile. His lips press against my forehead and I sigh in content.

“She and Cameron moved to Europe when my dad died and well, I can’t blame them. It’s much safer for them. I wish you could see that too.” The heaviness in his voice makes me look up, furrowing my eyebrows. He’s staring down at me, a frown etched onto his beautiful face only highlighting a faint scar between his eyebrows. A scar his sister gave him as a kid despite my initial theory of it being a gang related injury.

“What are you talking about?” I ask sharply, not liking what he’s hinting at.

“I mean you’d be smart to get out of here. Leave and never look back. I’m not good for you.” His voice is even and calm, like he’s not talking about destroying us and the prospects of our future. Does he even want a future with me?

“I can decide what’s good for me just fine on my own.” I push myself up, sitting with my head turned away from him. In my mind, I’m aware he’s right. When does a story like ours ever end with a happily ever after? But another part of me ached at the possibility of never seeing him again. I don’t think I can leave him. Ever.

He’s ingrained in my very being at this point. I am consumed by him.

“Don’t be mad at me, doll. I’m just telling you the truth. I promised you that much.” His fingertips brush my spine, gently following the curvature down.

“Every voice in my head screams don’t…ever since we met. But I can’t deny my heart and run when I know I’m meant to be right where I am.” I sigh, turning to him.

“I know you feel differently, but I can’t help it. I’m in love with you Grayson Bailey Dolan and I can’t walk away from you.” I notice him stiffen with my professions, but I’m returning the favor of being honest. I can’t keep lying to myself nor him.

“People don’t write sonnets about being compatible, or novels about shared life goals and stimulating conversation. The great loves are the crazy ones. The kinds that are epic always take a toll on people and maybe that’s not us, but I want to find out. I have to or else I’ll go mad wondering what could have been if I had been just a little braver.” His eyes bore into mine, taking in all that I’ve said and I can tell it’s something unexpected for him, something he’s not used to. But he’s not running from me, is he?

I’m ignoring the fact he’s hurt and he can’t, but still.

“Don’t ever think you’re not brave. You’re the bravest woman I know. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be here with me.” Grayson takes my hand, bringing it to his lips, kissing the palm of my hand before burying his face in it.

“Now, let’s sleep.” He pulled me into him, his arms around me and his chin atop my head.

“Goodnight.”

And that’s when I knew he isn’t the type that says those eight words, but shows them. This was his way of saying I love you.

**

It took us three weeks to get Grayson back into shape, walking was the only thing he could do, but I was proud nonetheless.

I had to explain to him why the no sex rule is so important time and time again, but once the doctor cleared him, we were back in that bed just as much if not more than before. I didn’t complain because his skill set is off the charts and getting lost in him is exactly what I needed to forget about missing my own graduation. Despite initial shyness, we’ve come to experiment and I’ve found he’s kinky, but I’m kinkier. He’s also discovered the back of my knees are sensitive and he used that to his advantage as well.

Grayson is insatiable, mind numbing and most importantly – mine. Has been for months.

“You graduated?!” He woke me up abruptly, damn near giving me a heart attack in the process.

“Good morning to you too, sunshine!” I grumble, rubbing the sleep out my eyes and squinting at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He softened, plopping on the bed and spreading out so his head fell on my lap and he got a pretty good look of my under chin as I yawned.

“Didn’t think it mattered. You wouldn’t let me go and you were shot. Plus, I still need to get into Columbia med school for it to mean anything.” I run my fingers through his unusually messy hair lazily, seeing his frown deepen.

“How would you like to go out with me tonight?” He barely got the question out before I jumped out and nearly took his head off in the process.

“Yes! Where?!” I clap my hands in excitement, pressing my clasped hands to my nose and lips.

“A place very special to me. I’ll have my team come and glam you up.”

And he did. While he stayed for the first part where it was spa treatment more than anything and joined me for it with Ethan to my utmost surprise, he had left the second they did any real work.

With a very sophisticated red dress with open back and a princess style hairdo, make-up that accentuated my features and lots of expensive jewelry he apparently insisted I wear, I was prepared to go on our first official date and actually see a place that wasn’t this house. The only outside I saw was his property and although it’s big and very pretty, it gets boring after a time. And six months is a long time!

Grayson waited for me outside, his eyes widening once he saw me, freezing in his spot. I avert my eyes shyly, pressing my lips together. If I were to look up my eyes will lock in sinful magnetism with his. Speaking to me, telling me things, suggesting things....he had simple eyes, nothing extraordinary to the naked eye, just the fact that they were so expressive...so honest...wrongly speaking out what his heart was trying to hide...love.

Finally looking up, I see he’s still frozen in his spot.

“Oh my God, at least act like you haven’t spent half a year seeing me without make up and in your old clothes.” I shake my head at him, watching a wide smile take hold of his handsome face.

“You’re always gorgeous doll, but tonight you’re a goddess.” He takes my right hand in his left, using his right one to cup my face and connect our lips for a moment.

Once I open my eyes, I feel my heart jump at the sight.

Behind Grayson is my Impala, completely restored and functioning.

“You fixed my car.” I say quietly, breathless. I could barely form any words before I threw my arms around him and pressed a kiss under his ear. It’s the most precious gift he could have given me.

Grayson took us to an undisclosed location, leaving my Impala for the night because I had no clue where we were going.

Finally stopping at a hotel, I look at him puzzled and he just chuckles.

“You’ll see.”

Arms hooked together, we walk inside and I soon realize this is one of his hotels. The people around seem frightened of him, looking like the devil himself just walked in. But I also see respect behind that fear, meaning he treats them well.

“Is everything in place, Rinaldo?” He asks the concierge and with a confirmation, we move back and leave the hotel.

I gasp, seeing the beautiful garden with fairy lights and flowers of all kinds, roses at each side of the path leading to a table with candles and a killer view of the city. Grayson takes a red rose from the nearest bush, already clipped and I know he’s planned all of this to the last detail.

“A rose for a rose.” His cheesy line makes me smile, bringing the flower to my nose. Inhaling the scent, I close my eyes and let a faint ‘mhm’ escape my lips, walking with my eyes closed to take in all the smells because I trust Grayson not to let me fall.

We take a seat, Grayson being a gentlemen and pulling out my chair and helping me.

“This is incredible, Gray. Thank you so much.” I place a hand over my chest, a little overwhelmed with all the love I could feel from him this evening. He still hasn’t said it, but I know he feels it. I know he does.

“Anything for my girl.”

Melting at the sound of that, we spent the night eating and joking around, drowning in his compliments.

“So why is this a private area? Why not let your guests in?” I question, wiping my mouth as I set down my spoon.

“It’s something too heavy for tonight, doll. I want you to enjoy yourself.” He derails my question, but I shake my head and place my hand over his.

“Nothing you say to me would make this night any less magical.” He stops, looking at me for a minute in silence, deciding to let me in.

“It’s my place…the place I find shelter when everything goes to shit. It’s uh…a garden my dad started for my mother. He never finished it and I couldn’t leave it like that. He always said it’s a symbol of his love for our family. It’s also where he took his last breath and where we scattered the ashes. I was surprised to see he named me his successor over Ethan, but apparently Ethan told him he didn’t want to lead and Cameron absolutely refused to be a part of this life. It’s my place and now…I want you to know it’s yours too. I’ll let Rinaldo know he can let you in whenever you need to hide from the world and think – to find yourself.”

I stood up, gently tugging at his sleeve to do the same and he didn’t waste time in standing in front of me, letting me wrap my arms around his neck loosely.

“Take me home.” I say sweetly, the longing in my voice taking him by surprise, but he smiles back despite the pain this conversation brought him. He’s never talked about his dad before and this…this is the last brick of a very tall wall I’ve spent a year demolishing. He’s finally let me in entirely, no stone left unturned.

We barely got into the house before the kissing started, the tension growing on our drive back and we needed the release desperately so.

“We need to let Ethan know.” I whisper against his lips and kiss him again.

“Already texted him and my men. We’re alone in the house for the night.” He responds, picking me up and carrying me upstairs as my legs wrapped around his waist.

He looks at me, pulls me flush against his chest, lips on mine in seconds. My back arches and my hands come up to his face, eyes closing as I melt into his touch and it feels like home.

It’s a kiss, but it’s deeper than normal and it’s got both of our hearts thumping a mile a minute.

He pulls back, giving me a look and I have to remind myself to breathe. His eyes are gentle, still darker with lust but not hungry or needy. There’s no grin, just a sweet corner smile. His entire expression is soft and almost innocent, a stark contrast to the image he’s spent his entire life building.

“So beautiful.” He mumbles under his breath, but I catch the words with ease.

He sits back on the bed, letting me nestle in his lap. Gently dragging my knuckles down his right cheek, Grayson closes his eyes and sighs in relief. He’s a picture of perfection.

The moment ends and he opens his eyes, his lips kissing at my jaw. Surges of electricity jolt through my body as his lips trail to my neck and he nips at the skin before latching down. He sucks a bright purple mark to my skin, a symbol that in this moment, I am his and he is mine.

I trail my lips down to his neck, gaining a groan before I leave a mark of my own, a mark that just screams my name. Pushing Grayson’s shoulder, moving him flat on his back as I properly straddle him, our lips not disconnecting for a single second. My breathing is already ragged and strangled but I’m not focused on breathing. I am utterly lost in the moment of lust, something I’ve become very accustomed to.

Grayson’s hands slide under my dress, pulling it up and his hands are so warm, fitting to my sides like a perfect puzzle piece sliding into place. And his hands quickly move with a purpose, unzipping my dress, letting it fall over my shoulders before pulling it off and leaving me only in my underwear, nearly naked in his wake.

His hands trail up to my breasts, taking them in his hands and squeezing them over my bra until I finally disconnect our lips and sit up. Grayson gains that usual smirk he always gets and it sends another rush of heat through my body, head to toe. I match his smirk with a wink before reaching behind my back and unclasping my bra.

“Hey, not fair! I wanted to do that!” Grayson complained, making me chuckle.

“Better move faster next time.” I smile, unbuttoning his shirt one button at a time, exposing his abs in all their glory. I help him shrug it off and before I can go back to my position, Grayson’s arm is wrapping around me and flipping me back over so he’s on top. I laugh and Grayson follows too, his head dipping into my neck before his eyes meet mine.

3rd Person POV

The laughing subsides and this feeling washes over him. Y/N? She’s incredible. She’s everything he cares about. The best moment of his life is the day she came into his bed that night and kissed him for the first time, trusting him to go the distance. But there’s something with the way her eyes meet his in the low light of their bedroom. There’s a new feeling here, one Grayson hasn’t felt before, one he wasn’t even sure actually existed. And it scares him so he breaks eye contact and connects his lips back to hers before sliding a hand between the two of them and sliding his hand into her underpants.

She moans as his fingers slide her underwear aside and start sliding through her folds, collecting her wetness. Her eyes shut while her hand reaches for the nape of his neck, tugging him closer to her as humanly possible. She moves her lips from his, kissing his cheek before she gets to his ear.

“Condom.” She whispers, voice completely drenched in lust and Grayson moves in seconds, reaching to his nightstand for a condom while she gets rid of the rest of her clothes. He’s glad she reminded him of protection, because in that moment all he could focus was getting lost in her and his mind wouldn’t even think of anything other than the way her lips part whenever he hits the right spots.

Grayson follows her lead and slides the condom on once his clothes have been tossed to the floor. He lines himself up with her core and he watches himself slowly disappear into her heat. He groans into her chest once he bottoms out, her jaw hanging slightly ajar with the full feeling and he gets to see the picture perfect face he finds as his greatest reward.

She runs a hand through his hair and Grayson picks his head up, eyes meeting hers and he’s scared at the flutter his heart does. He’s terrified of the way he gets goosebumps and the way he wants to kiss her like he’s never done before. For the first time, he’s scared of her, but he doesn’t let it show. He just stares back at her with heavy breaths and she pushes loose strands of curls back because she’s scared too, but in a different way.

She’s terrified of losing him for he made her happier than she’s ever been. In the last year he’s made her feel everything and she didn’t want that to be taken from her. Ever.

His lips are moving against hers, deepening every kiss and she’s letting herself melt into him and it’s so worth it. Every tear and ache of their hearts, it’s worth it.

His eyes are dark brown, darker than normal with lust and happiness and it’s got a way of making her stomach and heart just want to explode from the love she feels for him. Her skin tingles and a smile comes to her face, Grayson matching the same expression before kissing her lips sweetly and thrusting into her.

Y/N’s mouth hangs open as a gasp comes from her mouth, fingers digging into Grayson’s shoulders. Grayson kisses her cheek before moving back to her forehead, keeping his thrusts deliberate and steady, not focusing on getting off but just being in the moment with her. His hands reach for hers, interlocking their fingers and his thrusts increase.

Sheer layers of sweat soon cover their bodies and their hearts are racing with Grayson’s ever-growing sloppy thrusts as he starts to approach his high and she can feel she’s not far from her own and this is so much better than any other time the two had sex in the past.

They’ve been having sex for months now and every time it’s fun, exciting, good, it’s always been good but there’s something different about this sex. The sex that’s just the two of them, giggling when they knock teeth or quick pecks the other expects to be long and deep. It feels like there’s actually something passionate, a deeper connection there because there is.

Grayson’s hips rut against hers as they both moan out each other’s names, toes curling and nails digging each other’s hands as their highs hit. Gasps consume the room as she comes down and then there’s some quiet laughter from the two of them instead, Grayson kissing the very tip of her nose and her scrunching it in response.

Grayson rolls off her, walking into the bathroom to dispose of the used condom and clean himself, coming back with a wet towel to clean her off as well.

It’s become a routine for them, the aftercare always just as good as the sex. It’s intoxicating and liberating at the same time, being so open with each other and real about who they are.

So, with her head on his chest as he twirls loose curls of her hair, Grayson decides to speak one last truth of his own.

“I have a confession to make.” He kissed her forehead as she looks up at him, still feeling her heart beating wildly as is his under the palm of her hand.

“The Impala was ready even when you were still working at the bar. I was just scared you’d take it and we’d have no reason to be in contact anymore. I kind of needed those drive backs with you.” He pecked her nose and she gawked at him.

“You evil man.” She teases, slapping his chest playfully, using his own words against him and smiles.

“If you gave me my car back, I would have found a reason to spend time with you anyway. Been in love with you for a long time now, Gray.” With her reassuring words, the couple drifted off to sleep, completely unaware of what the future holds.

**

Y/N’s POV

A loud bang wakes me up, making me sit up in distress with a hand over my chest.

I look to Grayson in fright, finding he’s no longer by my side. Tapping the floor in the dark and finding only my underwear and Grayson’s shirt, I quickly put them on and peak through the door that’s left ajar. That loud sound didn’t sound like things breaking, it reminded me of the gunshot I last heard when Grayson killed Damien.

The fear is a weight on my ribs and a dull ache in my eyes, an unwillingness for my mouth to lift past neutral.

My heart isn’t resting tonight as it jumps to a speed of a professional racer, feeling my entire body tremble with the unknown danger lurking in the house.

I tiptoe to the stairwell, slowly descending once I notice Clevus, one of the guards is at the bottom of the stairs, eyes unmoving and blood pooling around him.

Covering my mouth to stop a whimper from escaping me, I feel the tears running forth and I stumble back to return to the room only to slip and fall. The blow in my lower back isn’t as bad as the fear that cages me when a man appears beside Clevus, a sinister smile on his lips as he starts to move toward me like a lion and I’m forced to get back up and run like his prey.

I run into our bedroom and into Grayson’s closet, wondering where he is…If Grayson is here at all.

I remember him saying something about keeping a gun somewhere in his room back when I first started living here, but I can’t remember where. I never wanted to know because I didn’t think I’ll need it.

I hear the door slam open, knowing I have barely a moment before they get to me, rummaging through draws of his ties and watches but to no avail. I push apart his suits, wondering how many suits can a man own before he stops getting new ones, but he has so many it makes me want to scream in frustration.

I can't breathe, feeling as if someone is choking me. My heart is racing and all I want to do is curl up into a ball and wait for someone to save me. But no one will, no one is here. A choked cry for help forced itself up my throat, and I feel a drop run down my cheek. I hadn't volunteered for this, I'm not one of those brave people who relish in danger and crave leadership. But I did, didn’t I? I chose to stay…to love a man like Grayson Dolan.

“Hello.” I hear the low chuckle behind me, freezing in my spot as terror overtakes me. Adrenaline floods my system. It pumps and beats like it’s trying to escape. I think my heart will explode and my eyes are wide with fear. The soulless came for a soul, the very thing they could never regain. They came to take innocence and feel the evil joy as they sunk into the filth of indifference.

I’m just grateful Grayson isn’t here to meet the same fate I’m expecting.

He grabs my arms and pulls me to him, caging me in as I trash against him. I kick and scream, pull and pinch, fighting with every fiber of my being. My arms get loose, allowing me to grab at the door, than at the stairwell and I can feel time slowing down as my own ticks down to the last minute of my life.

Kicking and screaming, this is how I go down. I hope Grayson knows I wouldn’t leave him if I had a choice.

I can taste saliva thickening in my throat and beads of sweat trickling down my brow. The man stops, knocking me into the wall at the bottom and I fall into the pool of Clevus’ blood in despair.

“You’re a pretty one, aren’t ya?” Another man steps into the hall and I feel my defiance outgrow my fear.

“You’re going to die for this! Grayson will kill you!” I shout, smirking as the man nods with his lips pursing. He takes a couple steps toward me, leaning down to almost face level.

“I have it on good authority that won’t be possible.” With a flick of his wrist his men move and I see them bring in an unconscious Grayson and throw him on the floor before my feet.

His left eyebrow is cut and bleeding profusely, his eyes closed and lips parted ever so slightly. He’s out cold, unaware of the world around him. But I’m not.

No. No. No. NO, NO!

“I should thank you. If you hadn’t softened this idiot, he’d never let his guard down and none of this would be possible.”

Oh God…this is all my fault. He let the guards have a night off and those who stayed were outside and easy targets.

“Take her out.” And before I have the time to let out a single tear, my vision blurs and everything goes dark.

Back to the present – 3rd Person POV

“Sorry darling. Nothing personal.” And then he pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened in the actual sense of the word, the gun being emptied out before it was handed to the star-crossed lovers. Yet, everything happened in that moment.

Y/N stood in her spot, shocked at what almost happened. She could have never pulled the trigger, not in her wildest dreams would she have harmed him. But he did. He pulled the trigger without so much as a blink of doubt.

“Oh, I guess I was wrong then! Only one of you love the other enough to die for them. Cold, Grayson. Even for you.” The stranger chuckled, taking the gun as his men grabbed a hold of Grayson and started to tie him back up.

He loaded the gun with a single bullet, turning it toward Y/N’s head once more, keeping eye contact with Grayson.

“I should ease her suffering. After all, she’s the reason my son is dead. She got away with little to no consequence, but that’s because I’m a good guy.” And that’s when Y/N realizes who this stranger is. He’s Damien’s father – the leader of Grayson’s rival gang. It’s the war Ethan warned Grayson about and she was so oblivious to it all.

“I just wanted to know where my son’s body is, but hey…I’ll take pleasure knowing you two got exactly what you deserved.”

Before the trigger is pulled, a mass of warm slaw plastered onto Y/N’s face and a guttural scream erupted from deep inside her chest once she noticed brain matter mixed with blood running down her skin.

She heard a blow after blow, looking around to see almost all of the enemies are dead or about to be and Grayson already on his feet, fighting actively.

Y/N wanted to be strong as Grayson once called her, to be epitome of powerful. But after the week of torture she endured – both mental and physical, she couldn’t keep up a picture of the woman she once was. She crumbled to the core, none of her walls remaining intact.

Legs giving out, she started her fall, but the darkness never came as a pair of arms held onto her and pushed her into the safety of an embrace. It wasn’t Grayson, she knew it by heart, but the scent was similar – Ethan’s.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.” He whispered over and over in her ear, running his gloved hand down her hair and he held her close, keeping her standing just by his own force. She got close to Ethan in the past year as they both loved to tease Grayson and enjoyed playing video games or even watching TV as their shows have become a religion, a way of life and the best bonding experience. Yet she never expected his arms would be the ones she’d fall into.

The fight around them stopped, continuing somewhere deep in the bunker they were held in, allowing the men inside to take a minute and breathe.

“Took you long enough, bro.” Grayson’s hoarse voice sounds before he spits at his captive’s dead body and moves to take Y/N in his arms.

“You try finding out a damn bomb shelter in the middle of the New Jersey woods!” Ethan exclaims, releasing the pressure he kept on Y/N who buried her face in his leather jacket and held onto him for dear life. Her entire body trembles, her choked sobs racking her body.

“Give her to me.” Grayson opens his arms, preparing to take her when she turns around and shakes her head.

“Ethan take me away from here, please.” She asks meekly, only tightening her hold on the older brother while the younger watched.

“Bro, what do I do?” Ethan asked Grayson, lost on what happened down there that’s so bad Y/N could barely look at his brother.

“Doll.” Grayson tries.

“Don’t! Don’t call me that ever again! Or anything at all for that matter!” She shouted, the force used tearing at her throat and the words alone would have hurt them both, but this broke them.

“Take her wherever she wants to go.” Grayson’s monotone, cold voice returns, swallowing thickly as he watches her disappear from his view. He knew the right thing to do.

Ethan put Y/N into his car, driving back home with a gnawing thought.

“What did he do?”

Y/N lift her head up from her shoulder, looking to Ethan.

“I understood when he refused to admit he knows me when they beat me. I understood when he didn’t even flinch when I cried. But I can never understand why he pulled the trigger after I failed to do the same. He would have killed me without a second thought. All for his gang…his only priority. I know now I have no place in his life. I just want to recover and get the hell away.” She grumbled, her head in her hands as her consciousness faded.

Ethan swallows thickly, looking at her in shock. He knew Grayson loved her, so whatever happened down there must have been taken out of context. His brother wouldn’t have risked her life like that for no reason.

Would he?

**

Days passes and Grayson never saw Y/N leave her room. She barely ate what the maids brought her, taking her water mostly for the pills.

The doctor told him she has a few cracked ribs, lots of bruises and cuts which would heal in time, but nothing permanent or life threatening. He too was healing, his body more black and blue than anything else. He had so many stitches on his body, he’s lost count. But all he cared about is the girl he had lost.

She checked her e-mail, finding Columbia offered her a scholarship – an anonymous donor decided to help her out and she finally found what she needed to pull herself together and face Grayson one last time.

She knocked on his door, holding her breath and he nearly lost his mind when she came inside.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, containing his excitement as his eyes looked her over.

Her face covered in bruises, drained and stripped of the usual smile she bore. Her body no longer had that extra meat on her bones he loved and she seemed frail…lost.

“I’m leaving.” She cleared her throat to stop the raspiness, pursing her lips.

“This house, this life…You.” She could feel the lump in her throat growing, making it harder to swallow.

“I have given you so many passes in the past.” She sighs, looking up at the ceiling as she leans back on the door to close it all the way and bites her lower lip.

“Too many…But you…you were willing to kill me…and to do what exactly?” She brought her eyes back to him, anger inside her bubbling when she saw him staring back at her. He doesn’t even bow his head in shame, no apologies, nothing. He’s just staring back at her and she hates him for it.

What she doesn’t know is that he’s staring because he knows once she walks out the door, she’ll be gone for good and he needs to remember her as she is now, to have something to live for.

“Why? Tell me some lame excuse, lie to me, anything! Justify it and I’ll believe you and I’ll stay!” Her voice raised in frustration, Y/N ran both her hands through her hair, shaking her head vehemently.

“Do you even love me?” Her voice broke, tears collecting in her eyes as she hoped he’s say anything.

“I promised never to lie to you. You should go.” Grayson spoke, no emotion passing on his face and Y/N shakes her head. He’s trying to convince himself he’s doing the right thing. Letting her go is the best thing for her.

“I’m such an idiot for thinking you might actually care for me. Grayson…You’re the bad guy, not the prince! And bad guys always get what’s coming to them! It might not have been this one, but someone will get you and you will remember me in those last moments of your life – remember me because this heartbreak you caused is the reason why you’ll be going straight to hell.” She turned around, walking out of his room, out of his house and out of his life.

Ethan rushed in, eyes wide and tears running down his cheek.

“What just happened? Why is she leaving us?” Ethan’s voice broke as his brother looked at him, reaching for a red rose that was behind him – the one he gave her that night in the garden.

“You will never know the depth of what I just lost.” Grayson choked out, crumbling the withering red rose in his hand.

**

Three months passed and while it was hard, Y/N finally lived her life. She found solace in school, loving every minute she spent studying. She lived on campus as it was provided to her by her anonymous donor and she even got a job! It was frustrating beyond belief to find pretty much anyone she met offered her a job after she told them her name, meaning Grayson must have pulled every string he had in the city to make sure she had somewhere to work should she want to.

It seemed she couldn’t get him out her life no matter how far she went.

She worked in a small café where the owners never heard of Grayson Dolan and DT Empire meant absolutely nothing to them and The house of the rising sun was just a song, ending her shift at ten every night. It was easier than she thought, moving on and letting go of the past. Until she went to sleep. His face is all she could see in her dreams. Haunting her, calling for her.

Until she started being haunted in the day as well.

“A coffee, please.” A familiar voice brought chills down her spine and she whipped around so fast she got dizzy.

“Ethan?” She whisper shouted, leaning toward him so no one hears her.

“Missed you. I’m sorry if this is inappropriate.” He apologized, giving her his puppy dog eyes and she sighs, pouring him a cup.

“If he sent you…” She trails off. She didn’t even know how he found her. She’s been keeping a low profile this entire time.

“I don’t want to know.” Shaking her head, she looks at the customers in case someone needs her.

“No, just a little worried about you. You kind of disappeared on us and I didn’t even get a goodbye.” A slightly accusing tone made her heart clench, but she couldn’t let him get to her.

“He’s miserable without you. Barely eats or sleeps….He’s reckless and I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before he’s killed. He even cancelled all his appearances.” Ethan pushed, continuously making her feel like she’ll either burst into tears or cry her eyes out.

“Not my problem anymore.” She states with a huff.

“You and I both know it is. You love him. I can tell.” Ethan tilts his head to the side, raising one eyebrow.

“Just…never mind.” He drops some money on the counter, much more than needed as his brother used to do before storming out, leaving his coffee untouched.

Y/N rubbed her forehead, finding a feeling of walls caving in on her becoming too real. She needed to think, to find some way to let go of Grayson because Ethan is right. He’s still in her veins.

Excusing herself early, she decided to go to one place she knew she’d feel close to him without actually seeing him.

She drove up to the hotel, passing by Rinaldo and walking into the secret garden. She brushed the roses with her fingertips, slowly walking up to the overlook with her heart in her throat.

It felt like that night he brought her here, the distant echo was still alive and frozen in time. Maybe this is what she needs, closure.

Sitting down crisscrossed, she rests her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands, watching the city lights burn brighter as the darkness consumed the day.

A part of her felt almost peaceful, while the other raged on. It was a never ending battle inside her – one part of her loving him and the other hating him. Maybe that’s life.

Trusts are broken, lies are told. For us to believe in what we seek, we must know what it means to be what we don't want to be. Being sad makes you realize how valuable being happy is. Being weak makes you know what it means to be strong. Being helpless makes you determined to be helpful. Mistakes happen, awful things might happen in one's life. But her trust in him never wavered until he pulled the trigger.

She didn’t have nightmares about the man who hurt her. She had nightmares about the men she let into her heart who broke her.

“I knew the gun is empty.” A voice pricks her small bubble, making her turn around and nearly fall in the process.

“What?!” She looks at him, finding him dressed entirely in black, only a deep red shirt peering out of his suit. He’s watching her with a distant, wistful look, his eyes surrounded by dark circles and his face unshaven. His hair is disheveled and she can tell he hasn’t been taking care of himself. He is a mess.

“The gun doesn’t weight the same when it’s loaded and when it’s not. I’ve held enough of them to know the difference. Plus, no one sane would hand me a loaded gun in that situation.” He clears it up, his bottom lip quivering.

“I knew it could save you…after he said they’d let you go. I thought you’d be safe. You’d leave the bunker and I’d die with my heart and mind at peace.”

“Why didn’t you say this to me back at the house? Huh? You said being honest with each other is the very definition of l…friendship.” She threw his words back at him, narrowing her eyes and bawling her hands into fists.

“Love. Say it.” He matches her furrowed eyebrows, swallowing his pride.

“Stop it! Stop playing with my emotions!” Her desperate shout had made him flinch, his nostrils flare with a heavy exhale.

“I did what I thought was best for you at the time. So you wouldn’t pay for my mistakes anymore. I hate that you got caught in all of it, but that’s over now and I…I’m selfish and Rinaldo told me you came here and I…I hoped you were here for me. I just…”

“You took my right to choose. That’s what you did.” Y/N held back tears, everything she tried to hold against him crumbling now when he stood before her as broken as she is.

Shaking her head, she walked by him, entered the hotel and prepared to sit in the Impala when a hand on her arm swung her around and flush against his chest.

Another loud sound echoed in her ears, distant screams following and Grayson’s arms around her tightened as he jerked forward.

“We got him!” She heard some men yell, but that’s the last thing on her mind as her eyes connect with Grayson’s.

“Goodnight.” He whispered, the sound barely making a dent as her mind is racing and her heartbeat is deafening.

He falls back down, her arms unable to stop his collapse.

Y/N shakes him once, seeing his eyes are closed and his are shut.

“Wake up!” She grabbed him by the collar, violently shaking him.

“Wake up, you selfish son of a bitch!” Her voice breaks the self-imposed sternness, her fingers clutching the fabric of his suit.

“You promised me a forevermore! You promised me a fairytale!” The raspiness of her voice and the cracks are enough testimony for the break inside her chest.

“You’re the bad guy, not the prince! And bad guys always get what’s coming to them!”

The memory of her venomous words clouded her sanity, her hands trembling and her lips quivering.

“I was wrong.” She bowed her head down, a choked sob escapes her.

“You’re the prince. My prince. I was just so angry…and hurt!” The tears she couldn’t hold back fall in waterfalls, her head lowering until it’s on his chest. Her skin eyes closed in hopes of waking from this terrible nightmare.

“I love you.” She whispered into his chest, breaking down when he didn’t say it back. She thought she should be used to it by now, but this time was different.

Grayson always chose to say goodbye instead of 'I love you’ for that would mean falling and she was always afraid of heights. So goodbye and a kiss on her forehead seemed like a good way to go in his mind, letting her know she is in his heart without scaring them both with the daunting words.

Somewhere deep inside, she knew it too. She knew he loved her and feared saying it out loud for it would make her a target in his world and he couldn’t imagine something happening to her because of him.

“All this time I’ve blamed you. For pulling me into the dark. But I was wrong. It was me who brought out your dark side.” She broke down, none of her hate for him remaining. Love…hate, it was always a fine line to walk on.

“Is he?” Ethan fell to his knees, watching in shock. His gun falls beside him, no more strength to hold it in his hands.

“Oh, God!” Y/N punched his chest in despair, screaming with her whole body so loudly in her hurt. The scream came again, desperate, terrified... human.

“Guys?” A faint voice stopped Y/N’s wails, making her look at Grayson who just opened his eyes in confusion.

“You son of a bitch!” She slaps him, standing up with the back of her hand at her mouth as both guys let out a strong of ‘Hey’s!’

“What did our ma’ ever do to you?!” Ethan chuckles, wiping his own fake tear away before smacking his brother and helping him open his suit, showing the vest.

“Did you just fake your dead to hear me say all those things?!” She shouted at him, kicking a rock in her anger and he pressed his lips together to stop himself from admitting the truth.

“You made me watch Far and Away, had to use it eventually! And you said you do love me, so shut up and hear me out for one moment. Y/N, please!” Grayson stood up, motioning for Ethan to give them some space.

She reluctantly stops, crossing her arms over her chest and looks to him. Fourth time he pleads. All four times with her. He didn’t even plead for his life.

“I know your world would be much easier without me, that’s why I told you to leave.” Grayson steps closer, wetting his lips.

“But it wouldn’t be my world without you in it. You pushed me away when I needed you the most!” She averts her gaze, hating the vulnerability in her voice as he takes her hand in his, inspecting the chipped nail polish with a crooked smile.

“Look at me.” He’s not asking, rather demanding and she can feel the subtle difference just as she can feel his warm hand wrap around hers.

“Doll, look at me.” He uses the damn nickname, the very one that started the whole storm he brought into her life.

“I hate how weak you make me feel.” She states, looking into his eyes at last and he smiles, shaking his head.

“Whenever you think you feel weak, just remember you’re Y/N Y/L/N and I, Grayson Dolan absolutely love you with all my heart. You make me weak and I’m not ashamed to admit it.” He leaned down, trying not to look long at her as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.

Saying I love you is the bravest thing he has ever done in his life, for it took every ounce of strength and courage to openly expose his feelings to the love of his life. He knew he didn’t deserve her as she’s always been too good for him, but he swore he’d spend the rest of his life building himself up to be the kind of man she’d be proud of.

Hearing him say the words finally took her last bit of doubt and she jumped into his arms without holding back. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, gently rubbing her arm. Despite the heaviness in her stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of her body pressed against his. She sunk into the warmth of his side, appreciative of the simple gesture. His touch made the world warmer somehow, her future within seeming a little less bleak.

“Say it again.” She whispers into his chest, getting a rumble in return as he chuckled.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” He repeated over and over until she couldn’t take it any longer and her lips crashed onto his.

Soul meets soul on lover’s lips.

In the end, she was right… People don’t write sonnets about being compatible, or novels about shared life goals and stimulating conversation. The great loves are the crazy ones. The kinds that are epic always take a toll on both parties.

“You’re not off the hook though.” Y/N broke the kiss, needing air as her lungs began to burn.

“Wouldn’t expect anything less.” Grayson smirked, brushing his nose against hers for an Eskimo kiss.

For now, all he wanted is to get her home and in his bed and just talk…Talk about what she’s been doing the past three months, every detail he has missed. He wondered if she realized he pulled strings and dropped her name in every corner of New York to get her a job when she left. He wonders if she’s figured out he’s the anonymous donor that got her into Columbia. If she hadn’t, he’d never speak of it. She deserved some good in her life and he was dedicated to make it happen for her.

“God gave me a good, beautiful woman and I have every intention on loving her well.”

With his rivals gone, he slowly pulled out of the illegal branches of his work and legitimized his business completely. He wanted a safer life for her and his family, one he hoped to start with her by his side. He changed without even realizing it and it’s all for her. It’s always been for her.

And although this is not where their story ends – wrapped in each other’s arms as they sit in her Impala, Y/N driving Grayson for the first time ever, this is where we leave them.

Every song has a CODA, a final movement. Whether it fades out or crashes away, every song ends. Is that any reason not to enjoy the music?

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

Tags: @fallinginlove-16 @godlydolans @accalialionheart @heyits-claire @xalayx

#grayson dolan #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan imagine #dolan twins #grayson dolan au #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan fanfiction #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan fluff #grayson dolan angst #grayson dolan smut #ethan dolan #gang au

[littleoldrachel]

i am burned out (i smell of smoke) - part three

you are all TOO NICE TO ME i can’t cope with how kind you are!!!

here is part three!

(i'm having a pretty hard time with my own bad brain at the moment so pls don't hate me for the typos, etc. i will fix them when my brain is less yoghurty, pls forgive me)

good news: the next chapter will only be a bit more angst and then it's all comfort from there on out i PROMISE he's gonna be okay <3

i am burned out (i smell of smoke) [on ao3]

summary: in which virgil falls apart, learns how to put himself back together, and realises he doesn’t have to do it alone.

word count: 6.7k ish ( part 1/5 | part 2/5 | part 3/5)

warnings: mental health issues -  look so there is some pretty intense mental health stuff in here so please. go careful. also trigger warnings for some super brief suicidal ideation. you are loved and i am here if you need a reminder of that <3

timeline: i suppose this is set in early TAG verse?  jeff is missing and nobody is Coping Well.

happy belated birthday, nutty!! <3

iii.

The days that follow are an enigma. 

Later, in therapy, he'll struggle to remember a single detail. There is simply a gap that promises pain should he poke it too hard, and he will shy away from reliving a single minute of it.

At the time though…

It’s a waterfall of suffering; he is cascading down, down, down, and every time he grabs a hold, his hand slips on smooth rock and agonising memories. Relentless misery beats down on him until he stops even trying to raise his head, because it is always stronger than him. Hitting the bottom, he is submerged, unable to distinguish the surface from the floor because of the murky grey all around him, and he can’t breathe down here, he’s alone down here, he’s going to die down here. 

So. The days that follow feel a lot like drowning - and Virgil would know. 

He can’t breathe and his limbs are too heavy and everything is muted, grey, useless, but himself most of all. He cannot feel much of anything at all beneath this crushing despair, but he knows that he is utterly sick of himself, beyond exhausted of feeling so terrible, desperate for a way out but unable to communicate this to his family.

He spends a lot of time thinking about his parents. Not a day goes by where he doesn’t remember them, but it’s usually memories of their lives, rather than grisly and traumatic thoughts of their deaths. But now, he can’t seem to stop himself from fixating on the way his mother turned the snow around her berry-red as she first stopped shaking, then speaking, then breathing. Nor how his father’s final moments must have been elation-turned-fear, how the heat of the flames must have engulfed him all at once, if there was any relief that he would once more be with Lucy -

He never allows himself to think these thoughts. They're too upsetting, too raw, too painful.

But now, he is powerless to stop them. 

On the fifth day of this new low - though it is fast becoming Virgil’s norm and that terrifies him - the klaxon sounds and Virgil can barely drag himself to the lounge. He does so anyway, arriving in time to see Gordon disappearing down his chute. Scott casts a glance in his direction as he makes his own way to his ship, concern blossoming at the sight of Virgil’s blank eyes. 

“Go to bed, Virg, you look rough.”

(Virgil doesn’t argue, which only tightens the knot of worry in Scott’s stomach, but he shoves it aside in favour of the rescue).

Virgil returns to bed, avoiding all reflective surfaces he can. He knows how terrible he looks and he cannot stand the sight of himself, but he also can’t seem to bring himself to get in the fucking shower. 

He’s disgusted with himself - it’s no wonder Scott didn’t want him on the rescue.

*

Or any rescues, apparently.

“You’re sick, Virg,” Scott begins, when he arrives home late that night to find his younger brother hasn’t moved from his bed. 

Virgil protests (hardly, weakly), though he can’t find the conviction for the words. It’s like he’s going through the motions of a well-rehearsed play. “I’m not sick. I’m fine to fly.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely not.”

Virgil sighs, rolling away from his brother and that horrible mounting worry. 

“You see, the fact you didn’t call me out on that language tells me just how horrible you must be feeling. I mean it, Virg. Grounded until you’re recovered. And I want you to have a medical first thing!”

It doesn’t feel like there’s any recovering from this sickness. 

*

Not having the distraction of rescues is punishment enough, but worse is the knowledge that Gordon keeps falling asleep over breakfast because Virgil can’t pull his fucking weight. He feels completely fucking useless - is being completely fucking useless - and yet, he still can’t bring himself to get out of bed. His brothers parrot concerned, loving questions he can’t answer and show him a kindness he certainly doesn’t deserve, and Virgil -

Virgil is a paradox: on the one hand, he is too empty to feel a single damned thing, no matter how much he wants to cry, no matter how hard he tries to put a label on these experiences, there is nothing there and therefore he is nothing. But on the other hand, Virgil is overflowing with raw, live misery so heavy he can’t take a full breath and so awful he stops caring about the fact. 

He’s not okay. 

He doesn’t know what’s wrong and he doesn’t know why, but he’s so far from okay, it’s laughable.

Only, he hasn’t laughed in weeks, and Gordon has stopped trying to make him. 

That realisation burrows into his heart, a sharp nasty sting of guilt and loneliness. He misses his brothers and he knows it’s his fault that they’re withdrawing - isolating yourself from them will do that - but it hurts all the same. 

It hurts because when Scott had started to count on neat whiskey to get him through the day, Virgil had dug his heels in and refused to let it be so. It hurts because when John had been relying on study drugs and no sleep to get through his PhD, it was Virgil who refused to let him hide away in shame. It hurts because Virgil has been there for more of Gordon’s panic attacks than he wants to remember, and yet he remembers them all the same. It hurts because Alan is too young to have lost so much, but Virgil refuses to let him shoulder that alone. 

Virgil loves his brothers with every single drop of Tracy blood in his veins, and he isn't afraid to show it by any means necessary. 

But he's so, so tired. 

Not of loving them - never that - but there's something so lonely and sad about this feeling and he’s exhausted by it and terrified of it and it all just hurts.

*

“There’s nothing wrong with him,” says John hesitantly, and Scott looks sharply at his younger brother across their father’s desk. “Don’t try and tell me this is fine, John,” 

"I know it's not fine," snaps John, “but I’m telling you that physically, he’s fine. A few bruises, but nothing some rest won’t fix.”

Scott begins to pace, frustration thrumming through his body. “He’s not eating properly,” He runs his hand through prematurely greying hairs in a motion learned from his father. “He’s just not Virgil.”

“I know.”

“I haven’t seen him paint or play piano in weeks, hell he isn’t even trying to get me to talk about my feelings. He’s alone all the time, constantly tired...”

“I know.”

“I just - are you sure? Nothing cracked at all? No signs of-”

“I had Brains run three separate scans, Scott. I’ve checked the results myself.”

“Could it be a concussion of some kind? He took a pretty big beating in Gen-”

“Scott. For God’s sake, listen. Physically, he’s fine.”

Scott stares at him, wishing not for the first time that the cogs of his brain moved at the same velocity as John’s. “Physically… so you’re saying this isn’t a physical thing?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Scott swallows - this is okay, unexpected, but he can recalibrate and work out what it is that Virgil needs, this is fine. “So it’s a mental thing.”

John smiles in spite of the gravity of the situation. “I don’t think that’s the correct term, but yes, I believe so.”

“What specifically?”

“I’m not a doctor, Scott. Virg’s the one with medical training.”

“Yes, but he’s not telling us anything.” Scott stares at John, fear clawing at his throat, at the thought of his brother - his best friend - hurting so much and yet seemingly unable to voice it. “What do I -” his voice cracks and he clears his throat hurriedly. “What do I do?”

“This isn’t all on you, Scott,” John says, his turn to be sharp now. “He’s my brother too.”

Scott takes a deep breath; the weight of his one thousand responsibilities have never felt so heavy on his shoulders, and yet, they may as well be feathers for how unimportant they are compared to this bombshell. But. John’s eyes reflect his own concern, but there’s a determination in the set of his jaw Scott has come to rely upon - his younger brother has never met a problem he couldn’t solve.

“Fine. What do we do?”

“I… I’m working on it.”

“John. This isn’t all on you.”

“Yeah yeah, Kettle.” John rubs his eyes. “EOS and I are researching. There’s a lot out there and because he won’t tell us how he feels, I don’t - I don’t know if we should get him a therapist like Gordon had or meds like me or… I don’t know what. And our lives aren’t exactly normal, so it’s hard to say what will actually help.” 

EOS pipes up, her lights dancing somewhere between turquoise and green (Virgil would know what to call that): “The recurring theme across research is ‘being there’ for the patient. A strange concept since humans are so limited by their physical forms.”

John smiles again, but it’s strained. “I’ll explain later, EOS. But it’s like how Virgil always checks in with me after a bad day.”

The words bring a lump to Scott’s throat that he can’t explain. 

“I see. So, you need to ‘check in’ with him now?” EOS asks.

“Something like that.” John catches Scott’s eye again. “Normalcy is also good. Being active.”

“So I shouldn’t ground him?” Scott says, though the thought of Virgil piloting his ship in a poor mental state terrifies him. He’s not afraid of his brother’s skill - that has never been in question - but how is he supposed to protect him from something none of them can even see?

“I don’t know.” John says it like it’s physically painful - perhaps it is, John is always loathe to admit lack of knowledge on a topic. “Maybe not? Though I don’t want him flying a ship if he’s feeling like, well -”

Scott slumps back into his father’s chair - his chair now. “Exactly. I don’t know what to do, John.”

“Me neither.” Uttered quietly. Helplessly.

Scott hates this.

Silence stretches between them - uncomfortable, worried tension that neither of them know how to handle. 

Eventually, John sighs, “I should go, Scott. Duty calls and all that.”

“John…” His brother pauses in reaching to cut the commline. “You - he’d tell us if he was feeling really bad, right? This is Virgil we’re talking about. He loves all that feelings stuff.”

“Yeah. Yes.” 

But John’s voice is laced with an uncertainty that curdles the worry in Scott’s stomach. 

*

Virgil's not sure exactly how long it's been but it must be weeks and he's losing his fucking mind. 

Every day is the same and it’s all one neverending nightmare. 

With the morning birdsong, he locks himself in his rooms and sleeps - or at least tries to, because it doesn't count as sleep when he wakes even more tired. He rejects his brothers' concern and ignores the trays of food Grandma has taken to leaving outside his door.

Where he's able to, Virgil still attempts to check in with them all after difficult rescues, still tries to fulfill his role as resident caregiver, but it's becoming increasingly hard to field their nagging questions. 

He almost caves, when Alan slopes into his room and practically begs him to tell them what's wrong. His brother's wide blue eyes are a weapon all of their own, and it takes all of Virgil's resolve to shrug his worries off. He steeps in self-loathing for hours at the hurt in Alan's eyes. 

Virgil doesn't understand why it's so hard to say the words out loud. For someone who has always championed self care and mental well-being, this inability to communicate his own suffering is as unexpected as it is unmanageable. He doesn't know where it's come from, nor how he's going to fix it; all he knows is that he cannot bear Scott's judgement, John's worry, Gordon's probing, Alan's disappointment -

It's too much.

It's all too much.

And he despises himself for that.

*

He endures John’s insistence he has a physical - and a second and third when the results are inevitably fine. He allows Scott’s anxious hovering as he answers Brains’ questions without complaint - another wrinkle to add to his brother’s worry lines, but he doesn’t have the energy to fight it.

For some reason, the medical proof that he is, in fact, fine, is damning. At least if there were some physical cause for his current state, he thinks it would be easier to bear (easier rather than fine, because he’s Virgil goddamn Tracy with a mile-wide stubborn streak) but instead he’s just falling apart with a single good reason.

(He hates himself for it). 

*

Scott watches his brother brush past his piano like he doesn’t even notice it’s there, flinch from the sunlight like it burns him, grow skinnier and more hunched beneath those tatty plaid shirts, and his heart aches. 

If their positions were reversed, Virgil would know what to do. Virgil knows Scott better than he knows himself, would have probably been able to resolve this before it even started. 

But Scott isn’t Virgil - he cannot untangle emotions and comfort weary souls like his brother can. 

He doesn’t know what to do with this shell of a man.

Scott spends what little time he has researching, learning, planning, but nothing he tries seems to help at all. Each time he broaches the topic of having someone to talk to with Virgil, his brother simply shuts down. He whines and begs Virgil to play him something but Virgil just sits before the piano, working on muscle memory alone. He stares at the medical reports until they blur and fade into restless sleep.

But he loves his brother just as fiercely as Virgil does him, and so it’s in sheer desperation that he tells John Virgil is back on duty. His brother blinks, schools surprise into an unreadable calm, and Scott feels the need to justify himself. 

“I just - maybe giving him a sense of purpose will help. Some structure back, you know?”

“Sure, Scott,” John says, though his tone is anything but. 

*

Scott’s announcement that he’s back on duty is a surprise to Virgil. His brother goes from you're not flying Two again until you're fit to, and you're not fit to until you goddamn talk to me to we need Two, now, Virg practically overnight. Alan and Gordon exchange similar looks of confusion, and Virgil is doubly aware of what a burden he has been to them all.

In Scott’s defense, they do need Two - and all of the ‘Birds to be honest. 

Virgil pushes through the foggy exhaustion that has become his waking state, and drops into his chute like he’s never been gone. By the time he’s adjusting his uniform, the fog has cleared a little, and when he’s settled in the pilot’s chair - his chair - he feels better than he has in weeks. Gordon flops down beside him, feet somehow already propped on the dash, and Virgil shoves them off automatically. 

He feels alive. 

Rescues help. For all the pressure and pain they bring, rescues give him a purpose. Even though rescues drove him to - no. Virgil doesn’t want to think about that now. All he knows is that without rescues - well. Actually, Virgil doesn't want to think about that option either. 

It’s been a while since he’s flown his ‘Bird, but she’s the same reliable dream she always is (a little worse for wear in her left thruster perhaps, from Gordon’s overeager antics, but nothing some tinkering won’t fix later. The fact that he is even interested in tinkering speaks volumes). The thrum of Two’s engines is practically medicinal and he revels in being able to breathe freely, think clearly - it’s been so, so long. 

The journey to the rescue zone is quiet, updates from John and occasional witticisms from Gordon are background noise to the beloved sound of Two responding to his lightest touch. Alan and Scott - speed junkies till they die - are far enough ahead of them that Virgil and Gordon exchange their usual eye rolling at Alan’s antics (“and the youngest Tracy takes the lead, a swift manoeuvre from Mr Alan Tracy proving once and for all that he is the true champ- hey, that’s not fair-“) and for a minute, it’s like none of the last few weeks had happened. 

Gordon bounces out of his seat as they begin their descent, practically vibrating with adrenaline as he dashes to his own ‘Bird. Virgil drops Pod 4 with a grin at Gordon’s whoop, catches a glimpse of sunshine yellow cutting through murky water, before sweeping round into landing beside Alan’s rocket.

In spite of the carnage around the Thunderbirds, Virgil feels the adrenaline stirring in his own chest, because finally, something he knows how to do, how to help, how to fix. 

It's an earthquake, the second one in this area in as many months. The hastily-reconstructed housing never stood a chance against tremors that tickled six on the Richter scale. In places the ground has cracked in two, dark zigzagging lines snaking across the desolate landscape. Piles of rubble, pools of dirty water, clouds of dust, and among them, people staggering hopelessly through the remnants of their houses. 

Families who have already lost everything are once again homeless. Virgil’s heart aches at the injustice of it all. 

International Rescue's task is simple, in theory. Virgil and Alan are to get the survivors out from the rubble nearest the epicentre, whilst Gordon takes Four up to the dam and assesses the damage done to the wall’s defences. Scott will be assisting with rescues from the sinkhole on the edge of the town - the result of overtaxing the land and the force of nature. And John, of course, as their ever-seeing eye in the sky. Simple. 

As simple as it can be when you’re surrounded by desperate people and their frantic hopes that you’ll save their loved ones. A quick word with Alan and Virgil dons his exo-suit, grimacing a little at the familiar weight of the Jaws of Life on his limbs. He’s reluctant to use the Mole given that it is likely bodies will be distributed at different depths in the wreckage - and Jesus, what a bleak thought that is. 

Alan begins tackling the top layers of rubble, using a combination of grappling hooks and jet blasters to clear the smaller chunks of rock, wood and dust from the area. Watching Alan work so efficiently and professionally sends a jolt of pride through Virgil’s chest; in many ways, Alan is and always will be their baby brother, but at times like this, it’s impossible to deny the man he is becoming. 

Whilst Gordon is Virgil’s usual partner on rescues, Alan is equally capable and hard-working, and between them and John’s careful scans, they begin locating some of the missing. Something loosens in Virgil’s chest at the sight of the first dust-streaked hand reaching towards them through the rocks - bruised, filthy, but unmistakably alive. As much as he tries to avoid superstition on rescues, beginning with a corpse is never a good omen. 

(Of course, this isn’t to say they don’t find bodies. A mother wrapped around her child, body misshapen from the weight of the rocks. An unrecognisable man, head bashed to a pulp - Virgil sends Alan to get some water at that point, nausea making them both shaky).

As is always the way, human kindness prevails, and soon the local people are involved in the rescue efforts. Virgil knows from experience that it’s best not to fight it, but he asks in a broken attempt at their language (that John then delivers flawlessly) that they stay away from the more dangerous sites.

As if it’s not all one big danger site.

Still. He’s busy and sweating and focused, and there is no time for self-loathing or guilt in his head at the moment. His arms are aching a couple of hours in, but he keeps going - has to keep going - because there are more people who need him and he needs this. It feels like it takes an age to clear just the stretch of what was once a row of houses, but once they have, Alan and Virgil barely stop for a rest before moving to the next place they are needed.

Virgil forces Alan to eat an energy bar, watching closely despite Alan’s glares to ensure it all goes down, but can’t bring himself to have more than a few bites of his own. 

Eventually, God knows how many hours later but late enough that there is but a slither of sun left on the horizon, John’s murmurs of heartbeats in the rubble grow further and further apart, and the number of bodies only continues to rise. Things deteriorate further with the aftershocks that rip through the land and Virgil clings to the person he’s in the middle of rescuing, willing them not to slip from his shaking grip. 

(He manages, just, though they have gone ragdoll limp by the time the earth resettles).

(But he keeps going).

Gordon has come to join them, tired but satisfied that reinforcements are in place, and Virgil smiles like it’s normal for him, claps him on the shoulder. “Good job, Gords.”

The grin he gets in return is a little bemused but bright and Virgil feels alive. 

*

The sky is velvety black now, tiny pinpricks of silver piercing it, and up there, one of those lights is his brother. Even with Two’s floodlighting, Virgil has to squint now to see what he’s shifting, his arms are leaden, and his head aches with dehydration. The end is in sight though; as brutal as it is to admit it from this point on, they will mainly be pulling bodies, and despite Scott’s insistence that International Rescue will continue their efforts, the local authority is equally stubborn that their crews can take it from here. 

(Virgil hears a mutinous, “fat lot of good that did last time,” muttered into Scott’s comm and can’t help but agree). 

He sighs, pauses for a second to stretch his muscles, and taps his own comms. 

"John, status update?"

"Two more life signs in the vicinity. To your left. Signal's faint… are they beneath that building?"

'Building' is a generous word for the structure that John has identified. Its stone walls are cracked from ground to roof, angry black tears through stone that has started to crumble. In places, the rock has already given way, revealing open sky and starlight through the gaps. It’s been reinforced with wooden shafts, which are crippled under the strain. The building is practically swaying in the breeze: a Jenga stack one block from collapse.

“Building integrity?” Virgil asks, though Virgil the Engineer is already running calculations on structural integrity and coming up with big flashing red NOs. Not even with the proper equipment - there isn’t enough of a structure to even hold onto, let alone hold up.

No way in hell is Alan going in there. Nor Gordon.

But someone has to.

“No way,” John says sharply, just as Virgil knew he would, but he’s already moving, squeezing through the space where a window once was. “Virgil - Virgil, no - at least wait for backup-”

Virgil swipes the connection away - he’ll pay for it later, but for now, he needs to focus and John’s audible yet uncharacteristic panic isn’t conducive to this.

It’s even darker inside, and Virgil makes a mental note to thank Brains for installing the headtorch in the suit. Eerie shadows bounce off the walls but at least he can see where the stairs have semi-collapsed against an internal wall - where the two victims must be buried.

“Hello?” Virgil tries, picking his way through the damage as best as he can in the gloom. “Can anyone hear me?”

There’s a pause, and then - unmistakably - a sob. A stream of words in a foreign tongue, far too quick for Virgil to understand, but he knows the universal language of fear and he moves. 

He grunts as he begins shifting rocks. “I’m Virgil, I’m with International Rescue. I’m going to get you out.” He repeats it in a clunky version of their language, and gets a further panicked babble. 

John appears again as he spots the leg of one of the victims - torn trousers and tiny feet, a child - and he does not look impressed. “Firstly, Virgil, what the fuck? Second, Scott is on his way and he will kill you for not waiting for backup-”

“We might not have time for that, John,” Virgil pants, shoving slab of the wall away. It has uncovered the whole lower body of the child and it’s a sharp twist in Virgil’s chest to see the duck patterns so dirty and ruined. 

John pinches the bridge of his nose and breaths out noisily. “This is incredibly dangerous, Virgil.”

“So let me do my job and get out of here,” Virgil snaps back, and John recoils. Virgil regrets the words the second they leave his mouth - he’s tired and dehydrated and stressed and he didn’t mean it, of course he didn’t - but John’s already gone blank with carefully-concealed hurt. 

Virgil hates when he does this. 

“John, I-”

“Don’t, Virgil. Do your damn job.” 

As John closes the connection, Virgil swallows down his guilt and focuses on the task at hand. There will be time to make it up to his brother later. 

They’re both children, it turns out, wrapped up in each other’s arms, tear stains tracking their cheeks, and scared shitless, but alive. The boy has a head wound that’s bleeding sluggishly and the girl is cradling her arm protectively, but it’s okay, Virgil got them out, they’re going to be okay.

“I’m Virgil,” he tells them, kneeling before them and tapping his chest. “What are your names?”

“Faroqh,” the girl says, pointing at the boy and then at herself. “Leila.” She adds something on the end - a plea, he thinks, though it’s too quick to catch anything.

“I’m going to get you out,” Virgil says, keeping his voice calm and soothing. He holds out his hands and the boy reaches for it, scrubbing at his eyes. 

John pops up again and the girl leaps back in shock. “Virgil - get out, aftershocks incoming, get out-”

The ground is already moving beneath them, juddering, groaning, and Virgil seizes the boy, scooping him against his chest, tries to reach for the girl through the clouds of dust rising -

Quiet.

For a split second, he thinks they’ve escaped it. 

And then it all goes wrong.

The ceiling caves first, then the walls, collapsing inwards like dominoes. There’s no time to think, Virgil just reacts, throwing himself blindly in the direction of the girl, cushioning both children as best he can against himself as the rocks rain down. 

In his mind, he’s vaguely aware that this is more of a Scott-move than a Virgil-move. Scott is the one who’ll fling himself into danger without a second thought, if it means someone else gets theirs. 

And yet, here he is. 

Even with the suit, it hurts. Jagged lumps crash into his back, pelt his already aching arms, bash his head further into the rocks. 

It doesn’t matter, he doesn’t care, just let them live, take him instead -

(Wait, what-?)

He doesn’t remember losing consciousness, but the next thing he can recall is a ringing in his ears and the realisation that the ground around them is still. 

“Virgil, get out of there!” John’s voice cuts across his comms, and Virgil opens his eyes.

“Faroqh?” he murmurs. “Leila?”

He feels one of them say something in his chest, senses slowly coming back online. Unfortunately, the fact that every single part of his body is in agony also makes itself known, and Virgil groans, shifting against the weight on his back.

“Virgil? Jesus, Virgil, talk to me. Scott - do you have eyes on him?”

“Almost,” Scott’s voice is tight with poorly-concealed anger and concern. “Virgil, do you copy?”

“Y- yeah,” Virgil manages, then coughs harshly.

“Status?”

“I think - I think they’re both fine. One is definitely c-conscious.”

There’s a pause and then Scott says, even more tightly. “And you?”

“Nothing broken I don’t think.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Scott says grimly.

Virgil closes his eyes again, because he’s so tired and he doesn’t have the energy for Scott’s hypocritical bullshit right now, but he must have lost more time because the next thing he knows, the weight on his back has lifted and strong arms are dragging him upwards.

His older brother is there, eyes a battleground between worry, fury and yet more worry. Virgil loosens his grip on the children, looking up at Scott. “Scott, I had to, they’re just kids-”

Faroqh stifles a cry and Scott’s eyes snap to him. “Give them to me.”

“I just - can you - Leila wasn’t speaking - is she-?”

Scott presses his fingers to her throat and there’s an agonising pause. “She has a pulse.”

“Thank God,” Virgil murmurs, slumping back and releasing his grip on the children.

“Thank God?” Scott repeats incredulously. “Virg - I don’t - I -”

“Don’t do this now, Scott,” John’s voice is quiet but authoritative. “Wait for me, please.”

Scott closes his eyes briefly. “Deal,” he mutters, and then picks up Leila’s body, stretching his other hand out to Faroqh. “I’m going to take these two out to Gordon and Alan. And then I’m coming back for you. Don’t you dare move.”

Faroqh accepts Scott’s hand but looks anxiously at Virgil, who does his best to smile encouragingly. 

And then Scott is gone and Virgil is alone in the mess he’s created. 

The weight of realisation comes crashing down around him, even harder than the building fell, and it’s a punch to his already fragile ribs. He does his best to focus on breathing rather than the swell of shame and self-loathing that’s ballooning in his chest because he really fucked this up. Virgil can feel his control beginning to slip and digs his fingers into the bruises on his legs. The pain grounds him momentarily, but only leaves him emptier when he stops. And so he only stops when Scott’s silhouette fills the entrance once more.

As Scott approaches, furious concern has him practically vibrating with emotion. Virgil takes a deep breath, choking down his own self-loathing for now, accepts the hand up and staggers into his brother’s side as the pain hits him in full. He may not have broken anything but his entire body feels like it’s been used as a punchbag and it hurts. 

Scott’s grip tightens around his waist and the worry intensifies. “Can you make it out?”

“Yeah,” Virgil says. (Probably is more honest). 

Leaning heavily into Scott, they make their painfully slow way to the door, out to where a pair of anxiously-hovering brothers are waiting for them. 

Alan barely restrains himself from lunging at Virgil, eyes overly bright. “Virg - are - are you okay?”

“Fine, Allie,” Virgil says, pointedly ignoring Scott’s irritable snort of disbelief. 

Gordon’s expression is caught between relief, worry and anger, but the former wins over and he hurries to Virgil’s other side. “What were you thinking, Virg? Going in without backup?”

“Not now, Gords, I promised John we’d wait for him. Let’s just get this moron home first.”

Virgil’s mind is struggling to compute the words whilst also concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. “Wait - John’s coming.”

“Yup.” Scott’s mouth is so thin it’s a grim slash. 

Well, shit. 

*

“You’re not flying home. No fucking way.”

“She’s my ship.”

“I. Don’t. Care. You just got injured and you’re not fit to fly.”

“Scott, it’s just bruising-”

“And a probable concussion,” chimes in Gordon, standing his ground when Virgil shoots a glare at him.

“You’re not flying and that’s an order.”

It’s not often that Scott pulls rank on him - it’s a cold day in hell when he has to - and it’s the shock of it that causes Virgil to spit “yes, Commander” with such venom. He loathes himself for the hurt he knows will be in Scott’s eyes but stalks to the passenger seat without meeting his gaze. Scott watches him for another few seconds and the stare burns right down to Virgil’s soul, scorching across his anger and burrowing right into his guilt. 

But he still can’t meet his brother’s eyes. 

Scott turns, leaves and Virgil sags in his seat. He doesn’t say a word whilst Gordon starts Two’s engines, not even when he revs a little harder than is necessary. He can’t bring himself to answer a single one of Gordon’s attempts at humour and eventually, Gordon lapses into silence too. 

Virgil’s head is in turmoil and his chest is heavy - heavier than it’s ever been. There’s a mounting dread about the screaming match he’s about to have with his brothers (because he knows it’s coming). Guilt and shame over what he put his brothers through with his antics (because that haunted look is back in Scott’s eyes and Virgil hates that he put it there) battling a self-righteous assurance that he did the right thing in rescuing those kids. Embarrassment that he fucked up the one thing he thought he could do. Gnawing anxiety over nothing he can place specifically but it’s there and it’s overwhelming. Misery that he failed, yet again, sending him straight back to the pit he’d been stuck in before all of this happened.

Above everything though, spreading insidious arms and draping its poisonous cloak over all, is an exhaustion so intense and so absolute that Virgil does not want to exist. 

(God, he’s so tired). 

*

In the infirmary, Scott helps Virgil out of the exo suit at last, sucking in sharp breaths at the sight of his brother’s skin mottled purples and blues. 

(“Jesus fucking Christ, Virg”).

Scott is as gentle as possible whilst checking for cracked bones and yet Virgil still has to grit his teeth not to wince at his touch. Eventually, Scott seems satisfied with his findings - as satisfied as it’s possible to be when his younger brother looks like a messy oil painting of angry bruising - and allows Virgil back into a sitting position to run through some mental exercises. 

It’s as Virgil is answering Scott’s questions without complaint that John bursts through the doors, heading straight for Virgil like a missile. 

John grabs him by the shoulders and shakes, uncharacteristic panic blazing in his eyes. "What the hell, Virgil? It's never you! You're supposed to be the one I can trust not to pull stupid shit!”

“Johnny, you - you shouldn’t be up yet,” Virgil says weakly, “gravity-”

“No, you don’t get to tell me to take care of myself right now-”

“Less of the shaking please, John,” Scott cuts in. He’s taken a step back, arms folded. 

John nods, releasing Virgil apologetically, but the verbal assault continues. “What were you thinking? No, scratch that, you obviously weren’t thinking at all.” In contrast to Scott’s, John’s anger is quiet. Virgil would rather be shouted over by Scott than reprimanded by John any day; John knew exactly how to let you know that you had disappointed him. 

Virgil takes a deep breath in spite of this. “I was thinking that there were two people who needed to be saved.”

“Are you being serious? That’s your excuse for going in alone, without telling anyone where you were going or waiting for backup? That aftershock could have killed you, Virg.” John’s voice trembles and he swallows viciously. “For a moment, I was so afraid it had.”

There’s a pause, in which the guilt might swallow Virgil whole, chew him up, spit out his bloody remains before his brothers. There’s nothing he can say but Scott and John look so expectant that he feels compelled to justify himself.

“I didn’t know there would be an aftershock.” 

“That’s not the point, Virgil, and you know it!” Scott explodes. “You didn’t tell us what you were doing, you had nobody watching your back-”

“They were children. They were children and they needed me.”

“We need you.”

“Stop acting like you wouldn’t have done the same, Scott!” Virgil doesn’t know when they started shouting but now he can’t stop. “Don’t act like you haven’t pulled this shit on me a hundred times! Stop being such a goddamn hypocrite-”

“It’s not the same, Virgil. It’s just not.”

“Oh sure, because you’re Scott Tracy, you get to do whatever you like, fuck the consequences-”

“Because I have you watching my back,” Scott yells.

It all goes very quiet and Virgil’s mind is blank.

“What?” he whispers.

Scott looks physically pained, forcing his answer out like pulling glass from a wound. “I’m not saying it’s fair or right, Virg. But I know that whatever stupid thing I do, I have you stopping me from going too far. Pulling me out when it goes wrong. And I know it puts too much pressure on you, and I am sorry for that - I am. But what you did today - you didn’t let us help you. You didn’t let me help you.”

(This is about more than just today and Virgil can feel it in every exhausted cell of his body but fuck, he doesn’t have the energy to hash that out now. He just wants to go to bed and sleep and sleep (and never wake up?)).

John speaks up now, holding Virgil’s gaze with the same anger, only it’s not really anger, Virgil realises. It’s love, marred by fear and stress. “Going into that situation without backup was suicide, Virg.”

A pause. 

“I’m not - you don’t think that I’m -” Virgil splutters, though he doesn’t know if the denial is more for his benefit or theirs. They’re wrong, he’s sure of it, they have to be wrong.

“We - we know there’s something going on with you,” John says, glancing at Scott. “And - and after today, we’re even more worried.”

“We care about you, Virg.” Scott’s eyes are wide, pleading. “Why won’t you let us help you?”

(Because I despise every single thing about myself, but most of all how much I’m burdening you all. Because you deserve better than my weakness. Because it’s not worth it). 

(He says none of that, obviously. Even if he wanted to, his throat has gone dry and his brain seems to be stuck on John’s words like a scratched record).

He needs to get out.

The realisation sucks all the air from his lungs. 

Anxiety rising so fast he thinks he might be sick, Virgil stands. “I - I can’t -” (breathe)-

Shove past Scott and John who are looking at him with such lost expressions Virgil can’t bear it. Inhale around the tightening band of guilt and panic-

Almost at the door and they haven’t tried to stop him - he’s not sure why this hurts more than their protests would have. Exhale and feel lungs constrict even further-

He makes it to the door, and now, exit strategy in his grasp, he can breathe. He stops, one hand on the doorframe and half-turns. Scott’s eyes take on a hopeful gleam and Virgil feels terrible for being the one to stamp that out. “They were children. Tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, stumbling on autopilot back to his room, sinks down into his duvet and succumbs at last to the panic attack. 

When it’s done - for now, at least - he lies in his own sweat and taut muscles, drained in every sense of the word. 

What the fuck is he doing?

Virgil doesn’t understand why he’s pushing away all the people who love him, nor why the thought of exposing this ugly, aching part of himself to them is utterly unbearable. Existing like this - so miserably and shamefully - is unbearable and he can’t face it anymore. He wants to cry. His chest aches with it and yet he can’t even muster the energy to do that.

Instead he lies there for hours, mind racing with reminders of his uselessness, body aching from his failings, soul longing for an endless sleep. 

#thunderbirds are go #virgil tracy #littleoldrachel writes #happy belated birthday nutty!

[the-quiet-winds]

Cause that’s Just Who I Am this Week (part one)

this is a bit of deviation from what @ichlugebulletsandcornnuts and i generally write, but i’m excited that we did it anyway.

[Part 1: My Heart is Like a Stallion, they Love it More When it’s Broken]

anne boleyn, in the time since she’d started her second chance and moved in with her five fellow queens, had made the unfortunate habit of not always cleaning up after herself.

it was never a huge mess, just sometimes some shirts on her bedroom floor, paper clutter on her desk, or a plate that didn’t quite find its way into the dishwasher, but it was still enough that ‘neatfreak’ aragon would get upset and ever the peacekeeper (and overall mother figure) jane would always step in to help out.

on this particular occasion, boleyn happened to have left a pair of slightly muddy shoes lying in the hallway, and as usual, aragon had not been best pleased.

“anne, for the last time!” she shouts up the stairs. “there’s mud all over the floor now!”

not one to be outdone, boleyn yells back without moving from her bedroom.

“you’re always being so dramatic. it’s literally the tiniest bit of dirt, i’ll wipe it up before i go later!”

the yelling is so loud that it shakes parr out of her writing-induced reverie and makes her look up from her desk. she glances over at katherine, who’s sat cross-legged on parr’s bed with a book open in front of her, hands are firmly clamped over her ears and a frown fixed on her face.

parr herself frowns; she knows the screaming matches the two sometimes got into upset katherine more often than not, so she presses a kiss to the girl’s forehead and pokes her head into the hall.

“would you both pipe down?” she calls.

“butt out, parr!” boleyn yells back.

“don’t take this out on her!” aragon seethes. “she had nothing to do with it!”

“of course you’ll defend her!” boleyn responds mockingly. “but i do one tiny thing wrong and suddenly i’m the bad guy!”

parr, detecting this is more than just a squabble, retreats back into her study and closes the door, then crosses back to the door and pulls the slightly-trembling katherine into a light embrace.

even as katherine leans into the hug, burying her face in parr’s shoulder, the shouting outside gets even louder.

“but it’s not just one thing, anne, it’s never just one thing,” aragon’s voice takes on a scathing tone. “it’s one thing after another after another!”

“oh my god, do you hear yourself?” boleyn reaches an almost incredulous pitch. “it’s a pair of shoes!”

“you know what you are, anne?” aragon’s footsteps sound, apparently climbing the stairs, but her voice doesn’t quieten to reflect the closing distance at all. “you’re selfish. who cares if we have to trip over your belongings all the time, or clean up after your messes, huh?”

there’s a knife of pure silence that slices the house apart. then parr hears boleyn’s door creak open, and katherine whimpers and pulls closer.

“selfish? really? that’s what you think i am?” boleyn challenges, voice steady yet disbelieving.

“i have never seen one instance in which you aren’t the selfish, conniving little witch who waltzed into my court and stole my husband all those years ago.”

parr sucks in a breath - those were harsh words, not only digging up the past but also calling boleyn a witch, which part knew brings up old wounds.

“at least i know how to be nice to people,” boleyn hisses.

aragon scoffs. “name once that you have ever done anything kind from simply the genuineness of your heart.”

to be fair to boleyn, there were a number of true, genuine statements she could have made about her kindness to the other queens since the second chance. unfortunately, boleyn was nothing if not stubborn and hot-headed, so what she actually ends up saying is: “i haven’t clocked you in the face for being really fucking annoying yet, have I?”

parr visibly winces, closing her eyes with a heavy sigh. in her arms, katherine trembles just a little more.

there’s another heavy silence, then aragon huffs a twisted laugh. “cant even defend yourself without dragging someone else through the mud?”

“well, in this instance,” boleyn challenges, “it’s rightly deserved.”

“i may be annoying,” aragon conceives, “but at least i’m not a selfish, spoiled brat who doesn’t care about the people she has in her life one bit.”

boleyn doesn’t answer for several long seconds. “is that how you really see me?” she asks, and her voice has lost all of its defiance, instead ending up just dark and cold.

“well, you clearly don’t care about any of us,” aragon practically hisses. “that’s been clear enough since we met again. nothing’s changed with you, has it?”

there’s another silence, and then the sound of a slamming door.

katherine continues to tremble in parr’s arms, and nearly jumps as the door quietly opens.

jane pokes her head in and looks to the bed, where parr is holding katherine.

“i heard the yelling,” jane says quietly. “i came up to investigate.”

she looks down at katherine. “are you alright, love?”

“i think she’s just a little rattled,” says parr, stroking up and down katherine’s arm.

“aragon sounded so mad,” katherine whimpers. “i’ve never heard her that mad.”

“it’s okay, kat,” jane says gently, sitting down on the bed next to her. “you know how anne gets under her skin. everything will calm down soon.” jane hopes her words are true, but she winces at the sound of crashing and stomping coming from boleyn’s room. katherine looks up with wide, startled eyes.

“it’ll blow over,” parr tries to reassure her, pulling her closer and letting katherine cling to her.

jane sits down next to parr and puts a hand on katherine’s back and starts to rub gentle circles.

“they sounded really mad,” she whimpers. the other girl’s fighting always scared her, but she had never heard boleyn and aragon so angry.

“i know, love,” jane soothes. “it’ll be okay, though.”

“that’s right, kid,” parr says. “they’ll get along again.”

parr’s voice is so sure that katherine almost believes it. that changes, however, the moment boleyn’s door is thrown open, her feet run down the stairs, and the front door is slammed shut behind her.

katherine’s bottom lip trembles dangerously and both jane and parr hold her just a little bit tighter.

“it’s okay, love,” jane shushes softly. “anne just needs some time to cool down, that’s all.”

“when she comes back she’ll be right as rain,” parr adds.

katherine wants to believe them, she really does, but she can still hear aragon muttering angrily downstairs, and the sound of boleyn slamming the front door behind her lingers in her mind.

argyle meows from across the room, then hops on the bed and curls into kat’s lap, purring like mad. parr’s hand holds her shoulder and jane’s combs through her hair, and then just a moment later cleves enters.

“it seems like this is the safe room,” she says with a nervous laugh.

katherine focuses her attention on the cat in her lap, scratching behind his ears as parr gives a sympathetic nod.

“hopefully we’ll have the all-clear soon when they both calm down.”

cleves leans against the wall next to the bed and lets out a half-sigh.

“they really know how to put some excitement into the day, don’t they,” she chuckles dryly. she glances down at katherine and her expression softens slightly. “how’re you doing, kat?”

katherine shrugs. she feels jane’s fingers sweep through her hair, then a gentle kiss to her temple. it doesn’t help relieve her anxiety, and she stays stiff as a board as she leans against parr.

---

boleyn fumes as she marches down the street. she doesn’t know where she’s going, nor does she particularly care, but just getting away was enough.

selfish?

was she really?

did she come off as uncaring?

she would take a bullet in a heartbeat for any of them, aragon included.

does anyone else know that?

she aims a kick at a stone on the street and sends it skidding away into the road. why didn’t anybody defend her?

sure, she could understand why aragon still got angry with her, she guesses. she hadn’t exactly been the kindest person in the world to aragon or mary back in the day. but she’d changed now. she regretted the things she’d said and did back then every day, and she thought the others knew that.

boleyn kicks at another stone and grunts when she misses and kicks the pavement instead. besides, it’s not like she was the only one who did bad stuff back in the day, but you didn’t see her holding a grudge against jane or parr for the shit that went down.

boleyn loved them all like sisters. why couldn’t anyone else see that?

she wanders aimlessly for hours, until she realizes its about time for stage call. she walks another few blocks to the theater and, with a sigh, lets herself through the stage door.

obviously, as evidenced by kitty’s little excited noise and jane’s not-so-subtle gasp, no one had expected her to show up.

she went into her dressing room with her chin up and doing her best to not look as pained as she felt.

it’s times like this boleyn wishes she shared the other dressing room; at least jane, parr and katherine would have the decency to pretend nothing had happened.

aragon, on the other hand, when she walks into the dressing room a few minutes later, keeps sending her glares from the other side of the room.

she tries to shrug everything off and focus on applying her makeup but the conversation from earlier still buzzes through her mind like an overly persistent moth in a lampshade.

they don’t speak, they barely look at each other, and cleves ends up sharing the other dressing room because the tension is too much to bear.

it carries to the stage, that tension. boleyn and aragon can barely stand sharing a space, but they put on fake and forced smiles and pretend.

it all is running smoothly until around halfway through aragon’s number, when maria’s kicking drums and maggie’s steady guitar become drowned out by a low hum, then stop altogether as their earpieces all die at the same moment, and the song awkwardly crawls to a stop.

they all glance at each other, unsure of what to do, before a stage manager appears.

“sorry everyone,” she says to the audience, “we’ve had a technical fault, we’re going to try and fix it, but we’ll keep everyone updated when we find out more information.”

she ushers the queens offstage as the band put down their instruments and follow suit.

the audience begins to warily talk amongst themselves,  a low white noise that is immediately cut the moment they walk backstage by aragon roughly shoving boleyn from behind, hissing, “what the hell did you do?!”

boleyn stumbles and nearly falls, then turns sharply. “what? you think i did this?!” she whispers back.

parr edges closer, ready to intervene, and katherine immediately darts into jane’s arms, who holds her protectively, keeping a watchful eye on the situation.

“you’re still mad about this morning,” seethes aragon, “and i knew you were cruel, but sinking this low?! sabotaging the show?!”

“i didn’t do anything!” boleyn protests, voice getting louder in her indignation. “this is ridiculous.” she turns to the other queens. “are you hearing this?”

“oh, don’t drag them into it,” aragon hisses.

“that’s it,” boleyn huffs. “i’ve had enough of this shit.” she turns around and aragon folds her arms.

“where are you going?”

“i’m getting out of here,” boleyn doesn’t turn back to look at her. “i’m not gonna let you stand there and talk to me like that.”

“you can’t just leave,” parr protests, “we have a show to finish.”

“vicki is here,” aragon says stubbornly.

boleyn lets out a half-strangled laugh. “it’s not like anyone seems to want me here.” she turns to see parr edging closer, cleves standing near aragon, and katherine clinging to jane near the wall. boleyn would be lying if she said the look in kitty’s eyes didn’t break her heart. she straightens her back and makes to leave, when parr makes one final desperate attempt, her voice low and clear as she speaks quietly. “if you go, you’re just proving her right.”

“proving her right?” boleyn repeats quietly. “proving her right? so everything i’ve done, that doesn’t matter, and it all comes down to whether i stick around and let aragon yell at me some more?”

“anne, that’s not what i-” parr begins, twisting her hands anxiously, but boleyn interrupts.

“i know what you meant. you’re all thinking it, aren’t you? that anne boleyn, so selfish, she never gives a shit about anyone else. i’m right, aren’t I? that’s what you think?”

"listen," parr interjects, voice low and dangerous, "i do not believe for one second that you are selfish, or unkind, or don't care. but i know you, anne," she says. she's quieter now, gentler. "i knew bess, and i know that you care so much in your sort of way. but if you storm off right now," she points to the door behind anne, "all you're doing is proving to aragon you don't care enough to even wait around for the show to start."

as if on a cue, their earpieces whirl back to life, and the show continues again.

well, for another fifteen minutes or so.

boleyn is unusually alert during jane's solo. typically she loses herself in the harmonies for the duration of the song, but tonight parr's words and aragon's insult rage through her head.

therefore, she is able to see and hear the light fixture coming loose over jane's head before anyone else.

"jane!" she screams, jumping up to push the woman out of the way as it comes sailing down.

there’s a crash and an audible gasp from the audience, then silence.

#six the musical #six musical #anne boleyn #catherine of aragon #catherine parr #katherine howard #jane seymour #anne of cleves #julie and jess write #cause that's just who i am this week

[bamon4bamily]

TVD 9x03 (part 3) Enjoy!  =)

CAROLINE: Klaus? What…what are you doing here?

KLAUS: Is that a way to greet an old friend? And a very generous one may I add…

CAROLINE: Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting…

KLAUS: I know, love, and I do apologize for the unannounced visit; I tried calling but you seem to have changed your number.

CAROLINE: What brings you here?

KLAUS: A witch friend of mine told me about a rumor, I’m here to verify if it is in fact true. (Stefan walks to the door). And I see it is… I was really hoping that it wasn’t…

KLAUS: Stefan… back amongst the living.

STEFAN: Seems so… What do you want?

KLAUS: No need for the hostility, old friend, I’m just here to help.

STEFAN: We don’t need your help.

KLAUS: Are you really so naive? Do you honestly think people can just come back from the dead without any consequences? Where is Bonnie?

STEFAN: Just stay out of this…

KLAUS: I understand that you are a human now, and probably very confused at the moment, but if you want to have a fighting chance at was is to come, you need to lose the arrogance, old friend.

CAROLINE: (To Stefan) Let’s hear him out, maybe he can help.

STEFAN: Fine.

CAROLINE: Come in, I’ll go get Bonnie (leaves, Klaus sits on the living room couch).

KLAUS: Care to offer a friend a bourbon?

STEFAN: It’s like 11am…

KLAUS: Your point?

STEFAN: Nevermind.

KLAUS: So, tell me, Stefan, how does it feel to be back?

STEFAN: (As he’s serving him the drink) Gotta say, feels pretty good.

KLAUS: I can only imagine... but are you prepared for the repercussions?

STEFAN: Anything is better than being dead.

KLAUS: Oh, believe me, it’s not…

Bonnie, Damon, Caroline, and Alaric walk in.

 KLAUS: Bonnie Bennett, as I live and breathe. (Checks her out) Aren't you a sight for sore eyes.

BONNIE: Klaus, why are you here? What do you want?

KLAUS: Your coldness breaks my un-beating heart, Bonnie. As much as you may resist to believe me, I am here to help you.

BONNIE: I don’t need or want your help.

KLAUS: (To Stefan) Maybe you two have more in common than you think… Listen Bonnie, I heard from a very close friend of mine about you, the linking spell, the source… I can help you.

BONNIE: Why should I believe you?

KLAUS: It might not seem like it, I know we have had our differences in the past, but I care about you… all witches to be exact, but you, Bonnie, you are special.

DAMON: Enough with the flatteries, start talking before I…

KLAUS: Damon, I see some things never change. You really need to work on your patience. (To Bonnie) I reckon you met Darius?

BONNIE: You know him?

KLAUS: Not in person, but he is quite the legend. Back in the day, there used to be many stories about him, and the Bennion coven… everyone thought it was just a myth but as it turns out, it’s not.

ALARIC: How do you know this? There is no documentation on the Bennions, trust me, I’ve done my research.

KLAUS: Well, the witch friend I’m talking about is actually a descendant of the Bennion coven, her real name is Aelish Bennion, ring a bell?

BONNIE: She’s Darius sister. He told me about her, accidentally drowned when she was like 20 something…

KLAUS: Oh, she most definitely did not drown, and it was no accident… but yes, she is his sister. Vanished by her coven after her brother set her up, stole her immortality serum and tried to kill her. Little did he know that Aelish doesn’t make anything unless she tries it out herself.

BONNIE: So, she is also immortal… (sarcastically) great.

KLAUS: She is. After her brother left her for dead she ran as far away as she could, changed her name, got some indie witches to psych-block her mind so her brother could not sense her. Eventually, she befriended a group of witches from New Orleans and settled down there under the name of Danae LeBeau.

DAMON: Stop with the tales from the witch and get to the point.

KLAUS: The point, Damon, is that Bonnie has fulfilled a prophecy, or part of it anyway, and now she has the power to destroy the world, and much more than that… so, we need to make sure that she doesn’t.

BONNIE: I would never do that.

KLAUS: Maye not on purpose, love, but you won’t have much of a saying if you can’t control it. Power can be very overwhelming, you know that well Bonnie, sometimes we do things just to prove that we can, especially when we are angry, or hurt…

BONNIE: Might be so, but like I said, I would never do that.

KLAUS: You are different now Bonnie, you don’t know yourself well enough to ensure it’s not a possibility.

DAMON: (Lashes out at him) Don’t pretend to know anything about her.

KLAUS: For god’s sake Damon, calm yourself! All I’m saying is that we are not safe, Bonnie is not safe… and, like or not, it’s something that needs to be dealt with.

ALARIC: Everyone, just relax. We will figure this out, together. We are not going to get anywhere if we fight each other.

The door opens, Matt, Khuyana, and Tyler come in…

 KLAUS: (Looking at Tyler) This just keeps getting worse by the minute…

CAROLINE: Tyler!! Oh my god!!!! (Runs to hug him).

TYLER: Care… (hugs her, then turns to Bonnie). Bonnie… I…

BONNIE: I’m so glad you are back, we missed you.

TYLER: Thank you (hugs her). You have no idea how much I….

BONNIE: I know… I’m just happy you made it back.

TYLER: (To Stefan) Stefan… (they shake hands, then looks at Damon, rolls his eyes). Damon…

DAMON: Zombie-wolf...

TYLER: (Looks at Klaus) Great… what the hell is he doing here?

KLAUS: I could ask the same question. Relax, Tyler, I’m on your side… at least for now…

MATT: Can someone please explain to me what the hell is going on?!

STEFAN: You know what, who cares what time it is? I need a drink. (Serves himself a drink).

KLAUS: Now that’s the Stefan I used to know… Cheers, old friends, we are in for quite a ride!

 They all sit down and talk…

Cut to- a freaky old mansion library, Darius and a strange man are talking.

 MAN: So, we are moving to plan B I presume? He will not be happy…

DARIUS: I know, but we don’t have a choice. If we want to reach our end goal, we are going to have to improvise… look on the bright side, the most groundbreaking scientific discoveries resulted from mistakes.

MAN: He doesn’t like mistakes… nor does he share your sense of humor.

DARIUS: Just let me do my job, it doesn’t matter how we get it done as long as it’s done.

MAN: What about the witch?

DARIUS: Her name is Bonnie, don’t ever generalize her.

MAN: Touchy, aren’t we? You actually care for her, how sweet. Careful, Darius, we wouldn’t want your emotions getting in the way… Anyway, he needs to be informed about this change of plan immediately, care to do the honors?

DARIUS: I will let him know.

MAN: Good luck with that.

Cut back to -Salvatore mansion living room, some hours later.

 ALARIC: So, that’s the plan, agreed? (They all nod).

CAROLINE: Bonnie and I will head to Whitmore and put Elena up to date. Oh, and I don’t care if it’s inappropriate or bad timing, but we are having our Night of the Living Dead reunion/Halloween party! So, remember your duties people, you have a week!

KLAUS: I already have my costume idea, love.

DAMON: Who said you were invited?

CAROLINE: He is Damon, so be nice; he’s trying to help us.

KLAUS: Well, I must be on my way now, Danae and I will be staying at my families’ mansion for the time being. Trust that I will keep my end of the deal as long as you keep yours.

ALARIC: We will. (Klaus leaves).

MATT: We’ll be heading out too; keep us posted. (As they are walking out) Ty, can you take Khuyana home? I have to make a quick stop then I’ll meet up with you back at the house.

TYLER: Sure, no problem.

 Klaus, Matt, Khuyana, and Tyler leave.

 ALARIC: (To Caroline and Bonnie) Are sure you don’t want one of us to go with you?

CAROLINE: No, we’ll be fine; it’s a girls’ trip.

DAMON: Stefan and I will keep an eye on our prisoner and catch up on some bro time.

ALARIC: I’ll be in my office doing more research, let me know if you need anything.

BONNIE: Ready Care?

CAROLINE: Just let me grab some stuff and we’ll head out.

Cut to – Whitmore College, Elena’s dorm. Elena and Sam are talking in bed.

 SAM: So, what do you say? This is a one in a lifetime opportunity...

ELENA: I know… but it’s such a huge change, and a scary one if I’m being honest.

SAM: Change is always scary but it’s necessary. Elena, you have never lived more than 3 hours away from your home town, there is so much more to see in this world. And, beyond exploring a whole new life, if you really are serious about perusing a medical career, there is no way you can pass on something like this.

ELENA: Germany, ha? Well, I do like beer… but what about Jeremy? I just can’t leave him…

SAM: Jeremy is all grown-up and has his own life… he doesn’t need a baby sitter anymore.

ELENA: That’s true…

SAM: So, that’s a yes?

ELENA: Well… (with awful pronunciation) Ja, Ja! Prost!

SAM: Trust me, you won’t regret it. We’ll work on your language skills later… 

ELENA: (Elena’s cell rings, it’s Bonnie) Bonnie!! Hey, I’m so glad you called!! Sorry I had to leave so soon… how are you?

BONNIE: I’m fine, but I would be better if you opened your door…

ELENA: Wait, what? (To Sam, blocking the speaker on her phone) Oh my god, quick, get up, put some clothes on! (She rushes up and puts on the first thing she can find).

SAM: I’m guessing you haven’t told her?

ELENA: No, not yet, it’s been crazy, haven’t found the right timing...Just please, act it out for now... (kisses him, tries to compose herself, then opens the door, Care and Bonnie are on the other side).

CARE & BONNIE: Surprise!!!

ELENA: (Nervous and excited at the same time) Oh my god!!!! (They hug) What...what are you doing here?! Not that I’m not happy, I just wasn’t expecting...

CAROLINE: (Smirking and glancing at Sam) I can see that... and this is?

ELENA: Oh yes, guys... this is Sam, the friend I told you about. We were just studying...

BONNIE: (Mocking) Human Anatomy?

ELENA: (Nervous laugh) No, no... Ahm Sam, this is Bonnie and Caroline...

SAM: It’s great to finally meet you! Elena talks about you all the time.

CAROLINE: It’s great to meet you too. Elena talks about you all the time too, except she forgot to mention how hot you are! (Gives Elena a wink).

ELENA: (Embarrassed) Care…

BONNIE: So, you are the famous Sam? Elena says you are a medical genius…

SAM: Nah, I’m just a book geek is all.

ELENA: Don’t be stubborn, he is most definitely a genius.

SAM: Listen, ladies, I’d love to stay but I have rounds at the Hospital. Want to meet up later for drinks?

ELENA: Sure, I’ll text you. 

SAM: Done, see you later (Sam goes in for a kiss on the lips then remembers, plants an awkward cheek kiss instead and leaves).

ELENA: So, to what do I owe this pleasure?

CAROLINE: Oh, don’t you dare try to deviate from the fact... care to fill us in?

ELENA: It’s not what it seems we are just friends...

BONNIE: Sure, “just” friends...

ELENA: We are, I swear! But really, why are you guys here? Is everything O.K?

CAROLINE: Oh, Elena, you are in for quite a ride… let’s hit the bar!

ELENA: I have a class… but what the hell! It’s not every day I get a surprise visit from my besties. Let me grab my jacket.

CAROLINE: You should probably put on a bra too... this is not the sixties. (Bonnie giver her an elbow jab) Just saying...

Cut to – the Salvatore mansion. Damon and Stefan still in the living room, having a drink.

 STEFAN: Really? You’re just going to keep avoiding the conversation?

DAMON: What conversation Stefan? Are you drunk already? You really need to work on your tolerance.

STEFAN: Fine… Dodge the bullet, again. I’ll get it out of you, eventually… (Damon hears noises coming from upstairs).

DAMON: I think we need to go check on our roomie, escape attempt number six seems to be taking place.

STEFAN: We have to give her some credit, she is persistent…

DAMON: That she is… (they run upstairs to check on Katherine).

 Cut to- Alaric researching in his study, Radka comes in, kissed him)

 RADKA: So, how is everything going? Found anything else?

ALARIC: Not yet, I’m having a hard time cracking this one (shows her an old book) … any insights?

RADKA: It seems to be written in some sort of code… looks very similar to a scripture I researched a while back from an ancient cult called The Liberatus…

ALARIC: I’ve read about them… they make The Illuminati seem sane. Do you think this could be related? That’s insane, right?

RADKA: First rule in research is never to eliminate a theory, no matter how crazy it may seem, until you have the facts to prove otherwise.

ALARIC: Have I told you how much I love you?

RADKA: Not today… (he pulls in her face for a kiss). Listen, everything is ready for the student’s memorial tomorrow, I know there is a lot going on, but this is important too.

ALARIC: I know, don’t worry, I’ll make sure everyone attends.

RADKA: Good. I have to go back to my classes now, love you (gives him a kiss, then leaves).

Cut to – Whitmore College bar.

 ELENA: Bottoms up! (Takes a shot).

BONNIE: I know this is hard to digest but…

ELENA: Stefan… (takes another shot) … Tyler… (another shot) … Lexie…  (one more) … Katherine… (two at the same time) …

CAROLINE: O.k, just slow it down a bit…

ELENA: I mean, I’m happy they are back, except for that bitch double of mine... how many lives does she have?!... But I am happy… I just can’t deal with these types of things anymore! Is this really going to be the rest of my life? Supernatural craziness? People dying and coming back, spells, fangs, immortals, psychics, and witchy-woo... I’m human now, finally have some normal in my life... these things… (takes another shot)  I just can’t… (burps) Oops, I need to pee… (stumbles out of her chair).

BONNIE: I’ll come with…

ELENA: Bon-Bon in the house! I love you, you know that, right? (Grabs her by her jaw and kisses her on the cheek).

BONNIE: And I love you too, come (takes her by the arm). When we come back we’ll order you some food and coffee.

ELENA: Nop, I’m good… only thing I need is more shots after I get these ones out of my system… and a new life…

BONNIE: Elena, look at me, are you O.k? What’s going on?

ELENA: I’m fine…I’m fine, fine, fine… I just want out… need out… quick, run, I’m about to pee myself!

 After a while, Caroline meets up with Bonnie in the bathroom to check up on them.

 CAROLINE: Is she O.K?

BONNIE: She’s fine…

CAROLINE: What’s going on with her?

BONNIE: I think she’s done with the mayhem… just wants a normal life, I guess… can you blame her?

CAROLINE: Elena is anything but normal, why would she want out?

BONNIE: Maybe she needs some stability, Care. No vampires, witches, werewolves, zombies, you know? A simple kind of life… I’d give anything to be able to have that...

CAROLINE: Bonnie, come on, look at me in the eyes and tell me you don’t love our life. I know it’s insane, but it’s us…

BONNIE: Yeah, I admit it…despite it all, I actually kind of love it. But Elena, although bat-shit crazy, just wants some normal in her life, and as her best friends, we need to help her find it.

CAROLINE: Fine! I hate that you are always right! But how do we help her?

BONNIE: By leaving her out of all of this… no more supernatural drama. We abort mission and don’t tell her about the plan. (Caroline nods in agreement, Elena comes out of the bathroom).

ELENA: Ok, much better now! Ready for another round!

 Cut to - The Salvatore mansion, Damon and Stefan in Katherine’s room.

 KATHERINE: When are you going to let me go? I mean, really, how long has it been? It’s flattering and all, but your obsession with me borders on pathological.

STEFAN: Oh please Katherine… did death make you more delusional?

KATHERINE: Then why are you still keeping me here? I told you all I wanted was a good night’s sleep, then I would be on my way with no hard feelings, I swear.

DAMON: We know better than to trust you, Kitty Kat…

KATHERINE: Come on, we all made our fair share of horrible things… how come you get a second chance, but I don’t?

STEFAN: Neither of us tried to burn an entire town with hellfire…

KATHERINE: True… but you did murder an entire town, and much more savagely, may I add, so... And you (referring to Damon), besides the countless bodies, murdered a pregnant woman… how is that any better than what I ever did…

STEFAN: (To Damon) Hate to admit it but she has point.

KATHERINE: All I’m asking you is to either let me go or give me a second chance…

STEFAN: More like a billionth chance but I’ll bite; if you really have changed or at least want to, then stay and help us… no foul play…

DAMON: Um Stefan, what are you doing? Have you gone A-wall? You do know who this person is, right?

STEFAN: I do, but you know better than anyone that redemption is possible if people believe in you… So, I say we risk it and give her shot.

KATHERINE: See why he’s the good one, Damon? Fine, I’ll stay and help, no sneaky plan, I swear. But, promise you won’t keep me under lock and key… it’s no way to live.

STEFAN: You have a deal (they shake hands).

DAMON: Stefan! Really, we are making deals with she-devils, now?

STEFAN: We are taking a leap of faith, Damon. You’d be surprised how enriching that can be…

DAMON: Caroline is going to kill you…

STEFAN: I’m sure she’ll understand.

DAMON: Oh trust me, she won’t.

STEFAN: Then that will be my problem to deal with.

DAMON: O.k, I’ll entertain this bit of mad, but how exactly is she going to help us?

STEFAN: You’ll know it when the times comes…

KATHERINE: Well, now that we are friends...

STEFAN: Oh, we are definitely not friends.

KATHERINE: O.k, allies, or whatever you want to call it... but can I please get some food? I’m starving!

STEFAN: Sure, come on, let’s see what’s in the fridge.

DAMON: Stefan! (As they are walking out Katherine turns around gives him a wink).

Cut to -Whitmore college bar. 

 ELENA: Stefan…  what a great guy! Care, promise you will never let him go… N-E-V-E… Oh my god! And that birthmark!! (Hits Caroline with her elbow, wiggles her eyebrows) am I right?

(Caroline and Bonnie look at each other, Elena is getting awkward, bordering on inappropriate)

CAROLINE: Okay then… here, have some water.

ELENA: Don’t want water… (to the waiter) more shots, please! And keep them coming!

BONNIE: Come on Elena, you are gonna get sick and regret these decisions in the morning…

ELENA: Bonnie… the almighty witch!

BONNIE: Hey, watch it! You might be drunk but that won’t stop me from smacking you down.

ELENA: I’m sorry, I’m being an ass…

BONNIE: You are. What’s wrong with you? We thought you would be happy to know some old friends are back…

ELENA: I am! So happy! Just having an existenial (meaning existential) crisis… I’m really sorry you guys, I don’t know what’s gotten into me…

BONNIE: You can tell us anything, Elena, what’s going on?

ELENA: I have the best reasons to stay… but I think I should go… and I’m terrified because I’m a wuss, a small-town girl who thinks she’s all that because she moved 3 hours away from home to go to “medical school” … God, I’m pathetic!

CAROLINE: You are not pathetic and there is nothing wrong with being a small-town girl…

ELENA: (Starts singing) Small-town girl, she’s been living in her small-town world…

CAROLINE: That’s not how the song goes, but anyway… Elena, talk to us…

ELENA: I’m moving to Munich... Prost! (Takes another shot)

CAROLINE: Elena... come on, we are being serious.

ELENA: You see? Not even my best friends believe I’m capable of living anywhere outside my comfort zone.

BONNIE: O.k, I’m gonna be harsh but it’s only because I love you. Stop with the whining, self-loathing and flat out teenage outbreak. Sober up, figure out what you want and go for it. If you want to move to Munich, or where ever, do it, no hesitations, no regrets. And if you are with Sam and don’t want to tell us cause you think we will judge you... I really am gonna slap you!

ELENA: Thank you! That’s why I love you! You don’t take anyone’s crap, always call them out on their shit! That’s why Damon loves you too... so much! He L-O-V-E-S you... you know that, right? (Whispering to herself) It’s so freaking obvious... God forbid anyone messes with his precious Bonnie...

CAROLINE: (Trying to deviate from a very uncomfortable situation) O.k, definitely time to leave. 

ELENA: But Sam’s meeting up with us here…

CAROLINE: Just text him that we’ll raincheck, o.k? Actually (takes her phone) let me do it, we don’t want you drunk texting something you will regret in the morning... you’ve done your fair share of babbling for one tonight. 

ELENA: O.k, but only cause I love you guys, otherwise I’d be all up on that! (They grab Elena and take her back to her dorm).

 Cut to – freaky old mansion library. Darius is sitting on a couch having a gin and reading what seems to be a really old book, the door opens… Matt enters.

 DARIUS: Sheriff Donovan, I’ve been expecting you… 

To be continued...

TVD 9x04 coming soon!!! Hope you stop by, read and enjoy! =)

#tvd fanifc #bamon fanfic #bamon #damon and bonnie #bonnie bennett #damon salvatore #belvafore #stefan salvatore #carolineforbes #steroline #klaus mikaelson #katherine pierce #kat graham #ian somerhalder #kianbamonsomergraham #animeeyes21 #minablood #ilovefanfic86 #stephm1587 #luanahensi #guilty-as-charged-i-ship-it #maniq1 #stellanoble #clararosetylor #bamon shippers club #awsomebamon #absentmindeddreamer #elena gilbert

[unavenged-robin]

Day 6 - Rain

N/A: The setting is completely different but I had this lovely art made in @laquilasse in mind the whole time when writing this (and for some reason I remembered the umbrella to be blue, wtf.)

The rain feels nice on the face, if only for the feeling of cold cleanliness that every drop leaves behind itself, as it slips from his cheeks to his neck to dampen the starched collar of his white shirt. Pennyworth is not going to be happy about this particular suit getting ruined.

“It belonged to your father”, the old man had said, and Damian had wondered if the butler had really expected him to be thankful for those hand-me-down clothes.

He had preferred not to comment, and had put them on in silence, vaguely annoyed that they were a little too big for him, even though the butler had assured him that his father was almost the same age as Damian when he first wore them.

Only now, in front of his own father’s gravestone, Damian realizes that Bruce Wayne must have worn that suit to his parents' funeral.

“How fitting”, he says to himself, and the steady sound of the pouring rain drown his voice into a whisper.

Mother could never tell him much about Thomas and Martha Wayne. All of her intel had been gathered from common sources of information like newspapers and special events organized in their commemoration. She never cared much about them, or at least not enough to investigate them further than that.

Damian supposes he could ask Pennyworth about it. One thing all old men have in common is that they like to talk about the past, remembering the good old days. What Damian had wanted, of course, had been for Bruce to tell him everything about their legacy, but he supposes it was an idle wish anyway: Father hadn’t looked like the kind of men that liked that sort of stuff.

The smell of wet grass is almost overwhelming where he’s standing, to the point of almost being able to totally cover up the smell of mud and dirt so typical of a recently closed grave. Damian inhales it in slow, deep breaths that also help him in clearing his mind crowded with conflicting feelings.

He doesn’t mind being wet, not as much as the idea of being completely alone. Home is not with Talia anymore, and it’s never really been with Ra’s, and now Gotham is another place to leave behind, and Father just a wasted chance.

Damian should be more upset about it, he knows. But if he has to be honest with himself - and this looks like just the right time and place for such a thing - then he has to admit he hadn’t liked Father that much to begin with. He had been an impressive warrior, just like Mother had always said, but of everything else, Damian had found him lacking.

He kicks the dirt with the shiny point of his new, expensive pair of italian leather shoes, and he watches as a long, rosy earthworm twists underneath the clump that has just been overturned over its head, leaving it exposed to the rain and the danger of the world above. Earthworms have neither eyes nor ears, they do not breathe through lungs nor gills, and they can only live in the dark. They can, however, regenerate themselves when they get hurt. Damian supposes there are worse fates than that.

He keeps staring at the earthworm and wonders where he should go next, how long can he survives on the run before Grandfather catches him. Damian raises his hands in front of his eyes and stares at them carefully, trying to imagine what will happen to his soul once Ra's will take possession of his body. Was it weird for Grandfather to use hands that were not his own? Seeing through eyes that belonged to someone else? Speak with a voice of a stranger?

Damian tries to imagine his own body raising from the waters of the Lazarus pit, old, familiar scars erased to make his body a blank canvas on which to paint another life, one that Damian would not share. He shivers and promptly blames the freezy rain for it. It would be a honor to serve the Demon Head. It’s his duty, the reason he was born.

He’s so lost in his thoughts, it takes him a moment to register the new sound of the rain, the padded beat that replaces the constant drumming. There’s a blue shadow over his head, and Damian raises his glaze to find Grayson looking down at him and holding a blue umbrella over him. The color momentarily leaves Damian speechless: he was convinced that only black umbrellas were allowed at funerals.

“You’re soaked”, Grayson comments. “You’ll get pneumonia if you don’t get out of the rain.”

“I don't get sick”, Damian retorts contemptuously.

“Alfred will be thrilled to hear that”, Grayson answers. “He’s always complaining about our immunitary system and and how we insist in living our lives like we have a good one.”

“My immune system is flawless”, Damian answers after a beat. He doesn’t even know why they’re talking about it or why he should care about their opinion on it, but he wants to make things clear anyway.

Dick nods with the utmost seriousness, then he shrugs under the pouring rain.

“Well, my isn’t”, he replies, and only then does Damian notice that the man is holding the umbrella in front of him, so that it would cover Damian but not himself. It looks like a very stupid thing to do. “So how about we go back to the house? Alfred is making tea and I know for a fact that, hidden somewhere in the kitchen, there is a batch of cookies that has just come out of the oven. I could definitely eat something.”

Damian could eat too. He throws a quick look at the mansion behind them. It doesn’t look welcoming at all, but it will be warmer than out here. Maybe he'll be able to steal some of those cookies for the long, hard journey ahead of him.

He lets Grayson lead the way, and doesn't comment when the man keeps holding the umbrella over his head to protect him from the rain. If he's stupid enough to be proud of such a foolish gesture, it's not Damian’s business.

“We can’t stay here for long”, Dick says, while they make their way to the house. “I wanted to stay long enough for the funeral and to gather a few things. You’re welcome to take a look around if you want to take something with you. Bruce had a nice collection of dagger in his study, I think you’ll like it.”

At first Damian registers the words without really understanding them, then he blinks and stops in his tracks. The umbrella stops with him.

“We?”, he repeats, looking up at the man next to him.

“Yeah”, Grayson answers and he smiles sadly at Damian’s confused expression, completely misinterpreting it. “I know this is your home and you’d like to stay here but the cave is compromised, so we need to move everything. It’s not going to be permanent, I promise you that, but for the time being we’re going to stay in a new place. I already have a few options in mind.”

Damian doesn’t want to ask, but he needs to be sure.

“Am I coming with you?”

Dick looks as surprised as Damian feels, when he looks down at him.

“Well, yes”, he answers with half a smile. “I’m not leaving you here alone in the Manor, that’s for certain. Social services would have my arse if I tried. And it's been hard enough to convince Alfred to move, if it hadn't been for you I don’t think he would’ve agreed at all, he was ready to build a fort in the kitchen, I swear.”

Once again the stream of words coming from Grayson’s mouth leaves Damian disconcerted, and to avoid showing his surprise he looks away and starts walking towards his father’s house. Again, the umbrella follows him.

“Okay”, he feels compelled to say anyway, just to have the last word on the man and pretend like he had always known that he was going to stay here in Gotham, because of course he is: this is where his father had wanted him to be, where his mission has been interrupted, only for Damian to take it in his hands and make it his own.

And Grayson could prove to be of some use too, who knows.

#dickanddamiweek2019 #dick grayson #damian wayne #this is still me having feelings about the penthouse don't mind me

[09yards]

7 - Houston, I have so many problems (days gone by - nct)

Days Gone By masterlist | main masterlist - ao3 link

warning: excessive use of italics in this chapter because apparently I felt like it and I've only worked on this during night hours and honestly it probably doesn't make sense because it isn't edited properly okay love you bye now, enjoy the chapter (:

Mark drowns his sorrows in T Swift, Grey's Anatomy and Ben and Jerrys and we talk about Johnny a whole lot and the pressures of school and life decisions.

I’ve got a hundred speeches thrown-out speeches I almost said to you

&

Yeah, after all this time, I’m still into you

      Johnny was a good brother, just not exactly role model material. He was protective, but still let you do all the dumb stuff you thought of - like jumping fully clothed in the lake during winter or staying out past curfew because ‘mum will never know, not unless you tell her anyway’ - he was the one there to laugh with you, cry with you, encourage you to do stupid things because you have to live your life. Mark never really understood when Johnny would go on some philosophical rant about how you only get one life, if you aren’t enjoying it then you’re not doing it right.

     He wasn’t constantly thinking about what to do next, how if he did this or that then this would happen. Mark was confused by it in all honestly, he couldn’t comprehend that Johnny studied for fun, wanted to do well not because he felt he had to but because he wanted to. Mark never felt like he made choices purely for himself, he did it for other people or because that’s what he was supposed to do. It wasn’t just academics, Mark was nice to everyone, he it his tongue when he really wanted to correct someone on their opinions (everyone is entitled to their own opinions but the guy was just plain wrong, zero factual basis for his arguments). Mark liked being in control of his own thoughts and feelings, he liked dictating his own life, for once. He just didn’t know how to regain control. He wanted to stop doing things for others, he wanted to be a little selfish – wanted to make himself happy first. He didn’t realise there was absolutely nothing selfish about that at all.

      And then, as stupid as it may sound, Mark started binging Grey’s Anatomy. The medical drama was a major turning point for the sixteen-year-old (at the time), taught him about how he wanted to help people, how he wanted to make a difference to people’s lives. He remembers sitting down and talking to Johnny about it, about how he felt like he’d found his calling. Sure, if anyone asked him now, he’d tell people that he fell in love with medicine as a young child, always playing doctors with his teddy bears and seeing his mum go to work every day, not that Sandra Oh being the magnificent actress she is, made him want to learn more and more about the field, thus he pulled an all-nighter googling different medical pathways and finding what was right for him – and how.

      Johnny was there for all the big decisions in his life. Johnny was there when Mark didn’t realise you were supposed to ‘come out’ if you were anything but straight (frankly, he strongly believed in the idea that no ones sexuality should be pre-determined and that no one should feel the need to define who they are - like that clip in ‘Love, Simon’ which prompted Jisung, Hyuck, Renjun and Jaemin all telling him to shut up when he went on a rant about how assuming someone’s sexuality is wrong and how coming out shouldn’t just be for the non-heterosexual) and in the midst of his first full-on breakdown over his burgeoning crush on Daniel from year 10 maths, Mark had said ‘he’ around thirty-two times, give or take a few (yes, Johnny had counted just to be sure), and only then had it truly dawned on Johny that this was it, this is the closest Johnny was getting to an ‘I-am-gay-and-this-is-me-coming-out-to-you’ moment. Honestly, it’d made Johnny quite proud - his mother was an avid supporter of the community and they’d grown up completely aware that any and all love was love, nothing wrong with any of it and those who believed otherwise didn’t deserve a lollipop (sue him, he was only eight and that was their mum’s way of describing people who were arseholes without calling them bad names). Johnny was there when Mark, sweating nervously and disgustingly clammy-handed, told them how he wanted to follow in their mothers (actually Meredith Grey’s, not that he was going to tell his mum that) footsteps and become a doctor too. Why he was so nervous, he’ll never really know nor understand.

      Especially not when Johnny picked him up and twirled him around in a hug shouting about how his little brother is going to be a doctor, Johnny always was one for theatrics, their mum on the other hand gave her usual warm-hearted smile, said she’d support him no matter what and wrapped him up in one of her bear-hugs. She always gave the best hugs, they simply felt like home, like no matter what you’d be safe.

      Jisung smiled, too young to really care and didn’t understand why Mark had made some big deal about it – “it’s just a degree, you could buy one online for like a hundred pounds instead”. Yes, Jisung spent too much time on the internet, Mark really didn’t want to know what the majority of his time on there was spent doing. Honestly, Mark had him pegged as some sort of edgy Tumblr teen running an insanely successful blog for a book-turned-tv-or-movie series so the majority of his time was probably devoted to reading (that Mark knew) and watching and then reviewing the episodes. It was somewhat worrying the amount Mark had thought about this, was he a multi-fandom blogger or did he just stick to one? What was he watching? Shadowhunter’s? Harry Potter? Sherlock? So, many, questions. But hey, it wasn’t Marks business to know. If he’d just asked Jisung he’d be aware of the youngers multiple blogs, one dedicated to his love of kpop and idols with dimples, the other dedicated to reviewing and just general chatting and fan theories about his favourite book series turned movie/TV shows, Mark wasn’t as far off as he’d like to believe.

      With everything that was happening with Hyuck, or rather lack thereof, Mark was desperate to feel at least somewhat in control of his life. Desperate to feel like he was doing something that mattered, like he was working toward something. One thing Mark could always rely on is that all of his friends and family, among other things, would describe him as a workaholic. As much as Mark loved to attempt to dispute this, he couldn’t. It was the truth and being the emotionally constipated teenager that he is – what better way to deal with your emotions that not doing so and instead throwing yourself into schoolwork? Mark was a broken human in many ways, in many ways he was just normal. Just like any other teenager feeling like they didn’t have their lives under control, feeling like they had to make life altering and affirming decisions at the age of sixteen or seventeen. It wasn’t fair. It didn’t feel fair at least. It didn’t feel fair that he couldn’t have some cute teenage love story like in the movies, didn’t feel fair that he had to submit his university applications by mid-October when everyone else got to wait until December, didn’t feel fair that everyone else had their soulmates or were finding them left and right but he was stuck.

      It was stupid and selfish but he wanted to feel upset. He wanted to feel like he’d lost something rather than just admitting the plain truth that Donghyuck just didn’t like him back. Not every love story was straight (oh the irony) out of Wattpad and not everyone got their happy ending, at least not yet. So, a very stressed Mark was free to wander mindlessly around his home, mind too occupied with some parallel universe where there’s no such thing as soulmates and everyone possess the ability to fall in love with whomever they wish. Not that that would change much in Mark’s case, but let the guy dream okay? Okay.

      Johnny was a good brother. But Johnny was still his brother at the end of the day.

      A brother who comes home for the weekend unexpectedly and so his seventeen year old brother believes he’s able to be singing his heart out to wildest dreams by Taylor swift, I break from crying over Mcdreamy’s death, with a pot of Ben and Jerrys fish food (yeah he was in full blown sad mode) in hand and the most over-sized hoodie he could get his hands on, actually wearing his glasses for once and well… Mark was a mess, in peace, but Johnny took the initiative of filming Marks current endeavours before making his presence known by snorting obnoxiously and crumpling into a ball (well as close as Johnny could get to folding his over six foot body into something remotely small) on the floor of their kitchen unable to breathe normally for at least ten minutes and unable to look Mark in the eye for the next two hours while keeping a straight face, as every time it resulted in him wheezing again and managing to get out a “Y-you, you listen,” another wheeze, “to Taylor, the Taylor Swift,” another, stupid, wheeze, “like queen of break up songs when you’re sad? Oh, Mark, where did I go wrong with raising you.” Yeah, not the most pleasant of experiences for Mark, his bright red ears clearly displaying his emotions.

       He should be allowed to drown his sorrow in peace, listening to Taylor Swift (and Adele but Johnny didn’t hear his rendition of ‘hello’ so #MarkFirstWin) eating his ice cream and dancing around the kitchen. We’ve all been there and anyone who says they haven’t done some sort of version of this is a down right liar, or just really, really, lucky and hasn’t experienced any form of heartbreak ever.

      Nevertheless, this is the same Johnny who then slaps you so hard on the back that it winds you, and then tells you with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face, “Hey! You know what would be perfect to distract you?” No Johnny, he was taking the Taylor Swift route. Mark just shook his head, his ears tinting red at the memory of Johnny catching him again (yes it was three hours again) and how he would definitely be relaying the message to others. “Well, your uni applications are in, nothing you can do right now to change that. So, I wasn’t going to invite you because I knew you’d say no but now I’m leaving you no choice. As it’s Winwin and Yuta’s birthdays, they’re having a party tonight and you are coming with me.”

       “But-“

      “Yeah, no buts. You’re coming. Yes, everyone will be there – it’s a family affair. Even Jisung is coming for a bit but I’ve already bought him chocolate milk and put it in the fridge at Yuta’s place.”

      “And you’re really going to let me drown my sorrows in alcohol after my birthday party?”

      “Sure, after all, what’s the worst that could happen?”

      Like Mark said, Johnny let you do the dumb shit. He’d help you pick up the pieces later.

   Hyuck. Alcohol. Jungwoo. Alcohol. Yuta. Alcohol. Winwin. Alcohol. Jaehyun. Alcohol. Soulmates. Black-out drunk.

#markhyuck #nct fic #markhyuck fic #nct #nct fanfic #nct fluff #dojae #nct donghyuck #nct haechan #nct mark #nct oneshot #nct fics

[i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend]

Missed Connections ~ Steve Rogers x Reader College!AU (Part 3/7)

A/N: Hi my lovelies! Okay, first off thank you so much for all of the love especially on the last chapter of Missed Connections. I haven’t gotten a chance to respond to you yet, but I have read all the comments and I’m soo soo grateful. Also, I’m pretty sure I got everyone who asked to be tagged but if I missed you I’m super sorry. Just shoot me an ask or a message or comment that you want to be tagged and I’ll add you. I am still working on Primary Colors. The chapter is being a bit stubborn and this story just started writing itself so I figured i”d share. I really love this part so I hope you enjoy it as well. 

Summary: Second semester is a bit disappointing to start off with. But maybe things will start looking up. (This is a crap summary. I apologize.) 

Characters/Pairings; Eventual Steve x Reader, Bruce, Betty, Thor, Sam, Scott, Clint, Tony, Pepper, Nat, Wanda :D 

Rating: T (language? maybe)

Warnings: A little bit of self doubt on the reader’s part 

Word Count: 2303 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 

“So we’ve officially covered everything that’s fair game on the exam,” Bruce said triumphantly.

You and Betty cheered.

“I vote, we take a thirty minute break. Let our brains revive themselves. And then do another round of review before we call it a night,” Betty suggested.

“I think that’s a fabulous idea,” you agreed.

“Sounds good to me.”

Bruce shut his textbook and pulled off his glasses, rubbing at his eyes.

“I’m going to grab some more food. Do you guys want anything?” Betty offered.

“I’m good.”

“No thanks.”

“Alright. Back in a few.”

Once she was out of earshot, you slid over next to Bruce.

“You guys seem to be hitting it off.”

“What are you talking about? We’ve just been studying?”

“The lingering glances. Her laughing at your lame science jokes.”

He held his hand to his heart as though he were wounded. “I thought you loved my lame science jokes.”

You laughed and nudged his shoulder.

“Love, sure. Actually find funny?” you grimaced and he rolled his eyes. “But seriously you should ask her to hang out after the exam..”

“And you should take your own advice.”

“I would if I ever saw him this semester. There’s been literally zero sign of him. I’ve seen his friends plenty of times, but… maybe he went abroad last minute.”

Bruce shook his head.

“No, he didn’t. He’s in my orgo 2 lecture.”

Surprisingly that didn’t buoy your spirits all that much. You were nervous he was avoiding you.

“Come on,” you urged. “At least one of us should get our love connection this semester.”

Before you could go too far down that rabbit hole Betty returned with a plate of chicken fingers and you could no longer ignore your hunger.

“Okay, I take it back. I want food. I’ll be back.”

You climbed out of the booth and grabbed your ID and phone before hurrying into line.

You wanted to give Betty and Bruce as much alone time as possible so you started looking for someone you could sit with for the time being. That was when you spotted Thor and Sam in a booth just inside the doors.

“Hey fellas, mind if I sit with you for a bit?”

“Y/n!” Thor boomed. In your few encounters you had figured out he was typically happy to see everyone. “Of course.”

He slid over so you could sit. You smiled at Sam and their other friend.

“Hi, I’m y/n.” You smiled.

“Scott. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

You arched an eyebrow at the word “finally” and Sam elbowed him in the ribs.

“I said finally. I meant it’s just nice to meet you. You seem like a really cool person. From your appearance.”

“Real smooth,” Sam snarked, rolling his eyes.

“So how’s the semester treating you guys?” You asked as you tried to hide your smile because obviously the guys talked about you.

Scott and Sam shrugged, but Thor groaned.

“It’s already kicking my ass. What about you?”

“Drowning. I had a chem exam Monday and I have a bio exam tomorrow. But hey, that’s what I signed up for.”

You leaned around the back of the booth so you could watch your friends. Betty was giggling at something Bruce had said and he was attempting to look cool.

“Trying to avoid someone?” Sam asked as he tried to see who you were looking at.

“No. My friend Bruce has a crush on this girl in our bio class who just so happens to be my lab partner. So I invited her to study with us and now we’re taking a break so I’m trying to stay scarce for as long as possible.”

“And here I thought you were just wanted to spend some time with us,” Thor teased.

“I mean that’s just a bonus,” you informed him as you smiled sweetly.

“I was hoping you’d say that. I’m having a party at my apartment tomorrow night. Do you want to come?”

The prospect was a bit daunting and you hesitated.

“You can bring your friends of course,” he said quickly. “The more the merrier.”

“Okay. Maybe. I’ll talk to my friends.”

He grinned broadly.

“Alright. Here, why don’t you give me your number and I’ll text you the details.”

You opened up a new text message and handed over your phone to Thor so he could text himself while you chatted with Scott and Sam. Conversation was easy, and you quickly lost track of time. You would have stayed talking to them until Late Night closed, but Bruce texted you rapid fire to get your attention.

“I’ve got to go. I’ll see you guys later.”

“See ya.”

“Good luck on your exam.”

“Come out tomorrow night and celebrate,” Sam suggested with a wink.  

“I’ll try and swing by,” you promised. “Good night.”

You quickly rejoined your friends and returned to studying. Bruce and Betty called it around midnight but you continued studying until Late Night closed at two.

As you eyed the mountain of stuff you had to get back to your room, you silently cursed yourself from not bringing your backpack down earlier. You had made so many small runs up to your room for studying materials that you couldn’t really carry it all.

“Need a hand?”

Your eyes widened in surprise when you looked up and found Steve standing there with a hesitant expression. You were going to refuse but then your laptop slipped off the top of the stack and he snatched it before it could smash on the ground.

“That’d be great. Thanks,” you conceded, handing over your textbook.

Tucking the multitude of colored pens into the front pocket of your hoodie, you shoved the loose papers into the front of your notebook and hugged the stack of them to your chest.

“All set?”

You nodded and fell in step beside him.

“Bio exam tomorrow?”

“Yes, unfortunately.”

“Do you have Fury?” he asked as you walked towards the elevators.

“Yeah. He’s super intimidating. I think it’s the eye patch.”

“It’s definitely the eye patch,” he agreed with a snort. “And the leather duster. Are Phil and Maria still TAing?”

You nodded as you stepped inside the elevator. “I have Phil for discussion. He’s the best.”

“Absolutely,” Steve agreed leaning against the opposite wall. “You should try to go to his office hours all the time if you can. He has the coolest gadgets.”

“I already do. I’m convinced he’s really a spy,” you confided with a giggle.

“I completely agree. One time he actually kicked open the door and tactical rolled into office hours.”

“No he didn’t,” you gasped.

“Cross my heart,” he grinned.  

“Oh my god. That is too funny.”

The elevator doors slid open on your floor and you sighed. You wished you had more time. He walked you all the way to your door, waiting patiently while you fished out your keys. You silently pushed open your door and dumped your notebooks on your desk before turning back to Steve and taking your textbook and laptop back from him.

“Thanks for your help,” you smiled and bit your lip.

He grinned and scratched behind his ear.

“Any time. Good luck on your exam.”

“Thanks.”

You both hesitated, before he mumbled, “Good night.”

“Good night.”

You slipped into your room and locked the door leaning up against it for a moment, before swearing under your breath.

“Shit. I still didn’t introduce myself.”  

“So what did you guys think?” you asked as the three of you walked out of the exam.

“I feel really good. I didn’t leave any blank so that’s a plus,” Betty reported as she tucked her pen into the front pocket of her backpack.

You looked to Bruce for his answer.

“About the same. There wasn’t anything off the wall.”

“Agreed. I’m just glad that and chem are over and I can actually enjoy the weekend.”

Betty nodded excitedly.

“Any fun plans?”

“I actually got invited to a party tonight. Do you guys wanna come?”

Bruce shuffled his feet slightly.

“We’re actually going to First Friday at the Science Museum.”

“They’re having a robot dance off before they open the floor for a massive party,” Betty elaborated.

You couldn’t help but grin at them. You did manage to refrain from squealing.

“It sounds like a blast. I hope you guys have fun.”

“I think we will,” Betty smiled before glancing at her watch. “Oh crap. I’m going to be late for work. I’ll see you guys later.”

“I’ll pick you up at 6:30,” Bruce told her.

“Looking forward to it.”

You waved until she was out the doors and then you gave in, squealing and flailing at Bruce.

“Yay! I’m so excited for you.”

“I’m so nervous. What if I screw it up?”

“You’re not going to screw it up. It’s going to be great. I’m so proud.”

He rolled his eyes and tugged on the straps of his backpack. “Come on, we have to meet the others for lunch.”  

You practically skipped towards the dining hall tugging Bruce behind. He was outright laughing at your enthusiasm by the time you sat down with the others.  

“I really wasn’t expecting this amount of giddiness just because I’m going to the Science Museum.”

“With the girl you’ve been crushing on,” you pointed out with a smirk.  

“That’s neither here nor there,” he spoke noncommittally. “Besides. I asked my crush out. That means it’s your turn. You have to talk to him.”

“Well she already has. Late last night,” Pepper smirked as she sipped her coffee.

“What does that mean?” Tony asked, looking up from his notebook where he was scribbling down his latest idea.

You thought you had been quiet enough to avoid waking Pepper, but her knowing look told you that you were wrong.

“Well, y/n, was walked back to our room by a certain someone we all technically don’t know.”

“And you didn’t text us immediately?”

“I’ve been busy. I needed sleep. I had an exam,” you drew out the last word pointedly.  

“And now you’re done so you can spill,” Wanda concluded with a grin.  

Knowing they weren’t going to let it go and honestly still being giddy about it, you rapidly recounted the journey from the dining hall to your room. It wasn’t terribly exciting in retrospect but you still beamed at the memory. After the gushing wrapped up Clint shook his head at you.

“I can’t believe you didn’t give him your number.”

“Technically she didn’t even give him her name,” Nat smirked at you and you stuck your tongue out in reply.

“He didn’t give me his either!” you argued.

“That doesn’t make anything better.”

“At least we had a full conversation. That’s progress.”

“True. But I think it’s time to kick it up a notch. And Thor’s party is the perfect opportunity.”

“Sit still or I’m going to poke your eye out,” Nat warned as you fidgeted for the thousandth time as she put the finishing touches on your make up.

Despite your rapidly mounting nerves, the afternoon had been fun. All four of you were going out that night, so you spent the time getting ready together. Wanda had left for her anniversary dinner with Viz an hour earlier. And Tony had come to pick up Pepper for Rhodey’s award ceremony shortly thereafter leaving you with Nat.

“Are you sure you’re not going overboard? This feels like a lot of makeup. I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t question my makeup skills because I love you.” She smirked as she took a step back to admire her work. “Perfect.”

She held up the mirror so you could look at your reflection and you were pleasantly surprised. What had felt like a lot of makeup was really just touches here and there to enhance your features.

“You’re a knockout. Now it’s time for the finishing touch.”

She walked over to your closet and pulled out the black knee high boots you had bought on a whim during fall semester.

“I’m not wearing the boots, Nat.”

“Yes, you are. They make the outfit. Besides, you sass walk when you were them.”

“What does that even mean?” you snorted.

“It means you sway your hips, and make your ponytail swing. It’s hot. People notice when you do it.”

“Really?” you asked and your voice was way more hopeful than you wanted it to be.

“You’re not nearly as invisible as you think you are, sweetheart,” she said softly stroking your cheek. “Now, put on the damn boots.”

You chuckled and took the boots and zipped them up over your skinny jeans. You glanced at your reflection in the full length mirror on the back of your door.

Nat looked over your shoulder.

“You look like you want to puke.”

She wasn’t wrong; your stomach was queasy.

“I’m so nervous,” you admitted moving to sit on your bed.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s just a party.”

“It’s my first college party,” you reminded her. “And I’m going by myself.”

“Only for a little while. Clint and I will be there as soon as the meeting is over.”

“Are you sure I don’t need to be there?” you asked for the sixth.

“I’m positive. E-board only. We’re just finalizing numbers. The real work will start next week. Come on. Clint and I will get you on the shuttle.”

“I can do this,” you mumbled as you pulled on your peacoat and double checked your purse.

“Yes, you can.”

True to her word Nat and Clint, waited for the shuttle with you, making sure you got on. They also made you promise to text them when you got there and you resisted the urge to call them mom and dad.

A/N: So there you go. I’m super excited for what’s coming up. I have the ending planned out but there’s lots more fun and shenanigans to come. I hope you enjoyed this. Thanks so much for reading. Feedback is lovely! Mwah! 

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #College!Au #Missed Connections #partidos

[rollingpenguin]

@shadow-insomniac tagged me so here I go, thanks for the tag! °^°

The 50 Question Tag

1. What time is it for you? 7:25 pm

2. Where are you right now? At home

3. What is the last thing you ate? An ice cream

4. How long have you been on Tumblr? Actually using it since the end of 2015 or beginning of 2016 I think, I had the account earlier but I had never used it, just to look for pictures

5. What is your occupation/year in school? I'm in second year at uni, I study Natural Sciences

6. What is the last text you sent and to whom? Told about the italian Wikipedia to my uni friends

7. What’re your favorite things to do to relax/unwind? Uh, lay down in the sun and look dead. Or listen to music on the train. Also bike real fast down the road sometimes

8. Have you traveled outside your home country? Where? I've been in Greece, Croatia, Spain, Germany, England, France and Holland, I think.

9. Where would you like to visit if you could go anywhere? Literally everywhere, like an all-places-trip or something. But if I had to pick one... It's hard. I have a glacier I've always wanted to see though, in Iceland

10. What’s something you’re looking forward to in the next few days? In the next few days? Nothing. There's still exams. There's a pride but I don't know if I have the time to go so...

11. Do you have any siblings? How many? One, a brother

12. Do you prefer nighttime or daytime? Nighttime, unless I have nothing to do, then I love a good peaceful afternoon

13. Sweet or savory? Generally savory

14. Natural look or glamorous look? Natural

15. Reading or writing? Hnn both, especially if I could really write

16. Left-handed or right-handed? Right-handed

17. Dine out or dine in? Dine in, unless it's to try new food

18. Chocolate or vanilla? Chocolate

19. Make music or listen to music? Listen, wish i could make it too though

20. Sunset or sunrise? hmm sunset

21. Listener or talker? listener, unless you get me started

22. City or countryside? hnn not sure

23. Describe the last dream you can remember? So three friends and I went to play some game on a field at night, we had to look for something, not sure what, but I was my usual lazy ass so this one guy and I stay in the car while the other two entertain themselves with some horror out in the darkness. At some point, we realize something is not right and flee to go home. Not sure what happens in between but it all ended with this friend and I confronting some evil pseudo-werewolf in my bathroom, we had three guns and one more person, but the guns weren’t loaded, to this creature amusement(literally, it laughed at my face when I tried to shoot), so in the end we defeat the thing by smashing their face against the mirror. lots of blood. but we won. nice.

24. Describe a dream or nightmare that you can never forget? Previous one was a dream so let’s go with a nightmare. I have two but the worst one is just me witnessing a woman drowning. It was creepy af because this woman was trapped with her head in some flooding pipeline and I could see both her agonizing face and her body outside trying to get free, at the same time, like I was two cameras recording. Seriously creepy.

25. Have you ever smoked? What did you smoke and what was it like? I tried one cigarette and I hated it thanks, then someday someone offered some weed and I wish it was legal here too, never been as peaceful as I was that time.

26. What is an embarrassing moment you’ve experienced? I am embarrassed every time i think of the one time 11 year old me intentionally run against a wall because I wanted to make some kids laugh

27. Do you like music? What’s your favorite genre? Yes and wish I knew

28. Ever performed in a play or a concert? What was it like? Yeah, I thought I was going to die, then my grandma literally walked in front of every sitting person saying 'that's my granddaughter' so I also wanted to die, but I didn't

29. One habit you’re trying to start? Hn exercising?

30. One habit you’re trying to quit? procrastinating? lol, like that's gonna work

31. Do you know what you want to do in 10 years? no freaking idea

32. Do you worry more often about the past or the future? the future, i have no plans, i don't know what i should be planning, i don't really want to plan something either so... huh

33. Are you in a relationship? Yeah right. No

34. Describe a date that went horribly wrong? (Or wonderfully great, you pick) I did go on a date. Like once. But it didn't go wrong. It just didn't go like a date.

35. Would you call yourself a dreamer? Yep

36. An overachiever? In my dreams, sure, in reality... meh

37. A hopeless romantic? Don't know

38. Who are your role models and why? I mean idk, Shikamaru? Cause he's a genius and he has good friends and great logician? Not sure

39. What do you tend to spend your money on the most? huh ...birthday presents? maybe? and food

40. Put your music on shuffle. What is the song? 'Irresistible' by Fall out Boys

41. Would you risk your life to save someone else? I want to say yes, but I'm not sure I will if the time comes

42. Have any scars? If you want to share, how did you get them? I have one on my hand from when I impaled it on a window and one on my leg from playing paint ball

43. Do you want to get married? ...maybe? I don't know

44. Have kids? How many? Euh, it's not really my first thought, nor my second, nor third. Definitely not in the top 50 things to do in my life. I mean maybe if I had a proper partner they could convince me but nnnha

45. What is the one thing that never fails to make you smile? GaJevy or GaLe, my Fairy Tail OTP. No doubt. They are so cute. Perfect.

46. What is one thing you learned today? Meteorites and their impacts and stuff of the sort

47. Are you happy with where you are at right now? yeah i mean, first of all, where am I?

48. List 5 things you cannot live without 1- Oxygen 2-Milk 3-Summer clothes 4-INTERNET WITH FREE FANDOMS. YOU HEAR EUROPE 5-sleep

49. What is your best quality? adaptivity

50. If you could meet anyone from history who would it be and why? I wouldn't, don't change history it makes stuff complicated, don't

Now go and tag some people

Yay. Okay, uhh well @misakizone @cry-cru @katekyo-bitch-reborn @erregiuly @nechrollomicon and that’s it don’t hate me for the tag ^^”

#i'm done #this took forever #aboutme

[golddaggers]

chemistry // part two

pairings: teacher!dylan o'brien x student!reader.

warnings: besides cursing? none.

a/n: look finally decided to realease chapter number two? hahaha :) plus, I’d like to announce that I will be uploading every Saturday. well, the ones I can because university is a bitch. nonetheless, proceed to your reading.

word count: 2,6k+

part one

For some weird reason I was yet to figure out, because it was a lot unlike me, I woke up in an incredible good mood. Which could totally be related to the fact that today was the first sunny morning after weeks enduring grey skies, rain, thick coats and freezing temperatures. Not that I hated all of that, except I did; it made me feel depressed. Plus my hair looked awful.

Yawning tiredly, I stretched out, sitting on my bed. While doing so, my eyes fell to Karen’s sleeping figure all curled up like a ball underneath three sets of sheets on a mattress carefully placed on my carpeted floor. She had decided to stay over the night because we still needed to go over some flash cards to our Algebra exam, that happened to be today, after my mother’s delicious dinner. I wouldn’t be the one to blame her, Louisa Smith was definitely a good cook, which means her belly was probably too full for her to find the strength to leave.

A small laugh slipped past my lips as I got back to my feet, muscles still numb for the amount of hours I stayed in the same position. Either way, I was refreshed to have had, at least once and in a long while, a decent night of sleep; also, the recently made coffee scent alongside the, very likely, scrambled eggs, homemade buns and everything a hungry person could dream about got my stomach complaining, setting my destination to the kitchen room.

The lovely forty year old woman I called mum was humming happily to a song whilst, by smell, squeezing oranges to make my favourite juice. I understood she used cooking as a self defense mechanism to keep herself together; we were still struggling with our father’s departure. It was complicated to even bring up in conversations, so, eventually, we just sort of stopped. I was pretty sure she would get over it. She was the strongest person I had ever known, of course she would.

“Good morning.” I mumbled, hugging her tightly, feeling her tummy shake as the woman laughed. “And this smells great, by the way.”

“Good morning too, sweetheart. What got you up so early?” My mum quizzed, directing me one of her best soothing smiles. “Are you nervous about the test?”

“Yes, obviously.” Rolling my eyes, a tiny smirk curled my lips as I took place at the table. “But it’s not why I’m up. I actually have no idea, but I have this feeling today is going to be great.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re happy, baby girl.”

“I am too, mum, these past weeks haven’t been easy, exactly…”

“Yes, I am aware of that, but you know what? We’re in a much better place now.”

“I think so too.” Supporting my elbows on the table, I watched my mother’s tired traits. “I want you to be happy too, ma.”

“I’m going to be fine!” The older woman looked away, prohibiting me from spotting her probably glassy eyes. “Now eat, before-”

A pale seventeen year old walked inside wearing a ridiculous bright red nightshirt and a sleeping mask controlling the brown mess that her hair was. She smiled kindly to both of us.

“Mrs. Smith, if you were going to say ‘eat before the eating monster arrive’, that would have been a great advice.”

The three of us shared a laugh before reuniting at the already set kitchen table, everything in place so we could eat together; Karen stole to her plate two muffins, three little breads, a couple of bacon’s slices and eggs, obviously. My mum and I just gazed at her, trying to hold our chuckles back. For someone so small, my friend definitely had a huge appetite.

Once the fun moment was over, we conducted a rather great breakfast, discussing light matters and gossiping like three old friends would do. To be honest, while we chatted, I was in awe to see that my mother was indeed improving; you could tell she had no masks on this time. No pretending nor disguising to be okay. It was purely and merely her.

Yes, this surely was a sign that a great day was ahead of me.

About twenty minutes later, Karen and I went upstairs to get ourselves ready to go to school. Because it was still a lot early, each one of us took our time to enjoy a warm bath, to pick a nice outfit, fix our hairs, etc, etc. Standard girl stuff, I guess.

“So,” The brown haired girl questioned, brushing her hair and locking it up in a tight pony tail. “You haven’t mentioned your date with Mr. McHottie a single time. Aren’t you going to go?”

“It’s not a date!” I whined, putting on a colourful sundress that fell to the mid of my thighs. Her green eyes glanced at me in disbelief, a smug grin taking over her heart shaped face. “It’s not! This is a class. Strictly professional.”

“Yeah… I just don’t buy it.” Scoffing, she stood and straightened her grey skirt, which matched perfectly her white buttoned blouse, the blue cardigan and also her heels. “You wouldn’t be dressing so nicely if the inner you didn’t think this is more than a casual lecture.”

“You are crazy, Karen.” Shaking my head, I slipped in my normal tennis shoes and put on a jeans jacket, grabbing my already fixed backpack that was placed near my closet’s door. “Can I just be in a good mood for once? Not everything has to be about men, you know.”

“What are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything, I’m just mentioning I’m happy. That’s all. And that it has nothing to do with Mr. O'Brien.”

“Fine, if you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t push it.” Karen sighed, collecting her bag as well. “But, seriously, who are you denying this for? Me or you?”

The girl left without giving me time to even come up with a proper answer. Of course she had point; Karen knew very well I had had a crush on him a while back, in the tenth grade. But it was over, I was just kid. Furthermore, I highly doubted Mr. O'Brien would even think about the possibility of being with student; he was way too professional for that to happen. Like, friends, I guess, but dating? Not in million years.

A final exhale escaped as I made my way downstairs; I sure as hell needn’t to convince anyone, nor myself, that nothing was happening, because, well, nothing was happening. He was just being nice. That’s all.

“What took you so long, darling?” My mother questioned as soon as I took my place on the front seat, putting my bag on my lap as I fastened my seat belt. “You look pale too.”

“I’m fine, I swear.” Gazing through the corner of my eye to the back row, I saw Karen shake her head, frowning at my response. “By the way, I might be running late today.”

“Why so?”

“Uh, my chemistry teacher, Mr. O'Brien, offered to help me catch up on the subject. He said I have been off lately.”

“Isn’t Mr. O'Brien the hot one?”

My cheeks quickly reached a scarlet tone as my eyes grew wide to her last sentence. Since when does my mother notice if people are hot or not? I was clearly shocked, yet, Williams broke the tension with a laugh, getting mum to do the same.

“Mum!”

“Just commenting, silly girl. You should see your face.” She stopped under a red sign, looking at me tenderly. “If he says so, I’m okay. Just don’t be so late, alright?”

“Got it.”

Connecting the white earbuds to my phone, I opened the Spotify app and swiftly drowned myself on Sofia Karlberg’s version of the song ‘Toxic’, wishing nothing but to distract myself of all the things that could lead me into thinking of my encounter later with a certain chemistry teacher.

As it turns out, the whole putting out of my mind my own human personification of a Greek God was incredibly hard. I mean, I tried, I really did, but his sinful honey eyes kept haunting me the entire course of my classes. Seriously, why couldn’t him be like my AP Calculus teacher: bald, pudgy and not at all attractive? It would make things a lot easier for me.

Biting my bottom lip to contain a frustrated sigh, I glared at Mrs. Ziemann, trying to focus on her interesting lecture about the end of World War I. She excitedly explained how wrecked both Italy and Germany were once it was over, especially the latter, with the cruel Treaty of Versailles. Oh, well, at least paying attention to that could allow me to forget I was only five minutes away from my meeting.

As the woman finished her presentation, I wrote down a few topics to look upon later when studying the subject, which I needed to do, because this good looking lady was known for her killer exams. On a side note? I may have cried myself after a couple of them.

“And this wraps up our class today.” She smiled solemnly, her pretty blue eyes locked on the back of the class where the lacrosse team was based. “Oh, wait, before you all go, I would like to inform I want, for next week, a paper on the tragic events at the end of World War I.”

This time I didn’t hold back a sigh, taking notes on my journal to do this assignment soon, for next week I also had, oh darn, a chemistry exam. Fate must really think my life is a big fat joke. That’s ought to be it.

I swiftly packed my stuff, placing a handle on my right shoulder and moving away from the class, only to find Karen leant against a wall outside, trying to look casual while chewing gum. Oh, yes, I had to solve this too.

“Please tell me you forgot about our little misunderstanding from earlier today.”

“I didn’t.” Her eyebrows were knitted together, her mouth forming a straight line. “But I’m willing to move past it if you promise to tell me the details of your “class” with Mr.McHottie.”

“You are such a gossiper!” I laughed, stopping at my locker to get my Chemistry book volume two. “I have been trying all day long to not think about it.”

“Let me guess: useless.”

“Damn right it was.”

“Well, he won’t bite you, at least.” The green eyed girl patted my back, a smirk plastered on her face. “Not unless you want to, I guess.”

“You are such a mean whore.” We both chuckled, our next stop being in front of Mr. O'Brien’s office, me knocking at the door twice. “And this is where I leave you, K.”

“Tell me the details!” She whispered, winking at me playfully. “I mean it!”

“Get out! Now!”

Williams raised her thumbs up to me, winking one last time then disappearing in the halls just before the brown haired man, also known as Greek God, also known as my chemistry teacher, opened the door. I certainly wasn’t ready to see him so loose, if that’s the correct term.

His hair was more disheveled than usual, the scruff still framing the beautiful pink lips, his white casual shirt had a button open, revealing an adorable puddle of chest hair, and his red tie was lying over his desk from what I could see. O'Brien directed me a comforting smirk, placing his rather large hand on my back, pulling me to get inside the room. One small comment so we can proceed: did he have a heater on or was it me that just suddenly grew warmer under his touch?

Gripping tighter on my hard covered book, I went forward to take seat on one of the first row’s places whilst he stayed behind to close the door. Okay, first minutes, still not weird. Maybe just a little bit. Why am I so tense?

“Are you okay, Smith?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, I’m just a little bit nervous…”

“You don’t have to be.” He smirked tenderly, pulling a chair to sit in front of me. “It’s just you and me, plus I won’t do anything to you.”

“Uh, people already think you-”

“Well, I seriously don’t mind what people think. You’re amazing, you know?” His eyes connected with mine for a while until he gazed down at his feet. “I meant as a student. That’s why I picked you to tutor.”

“Thank you, Mr. O'Brien, you are a wonderful teacher as well. I love your lectures so much!”

“That’s relieving, it would be pretty bad if my favourite student didn’t like them.” A small laugh slipped and, suddenly, all the nervousness was gone. “Should we start?”

“Yes, definitely.”

The following hour was simply incredible!

If him teaching to a whole class was good, having him as a mentor was even better. It was like he didn’t have to hold back nor maintain a straight face all the time. Plus the jokes? Damn, I could never have imagined he had such a great sense of humour. I mean, the man had gift on finding the right words to make me laugh like there was no tomorrow.

By the end of our time, I had not only gotten more confident on physical chemistry, but also met a side of my teacher I didn’t know previously. Mr. O'Brien, or Dylan, as he asked me to call him, was a sweet, caring guy. If the fifteen year old version of me had known this, she would be dead and buried now. God, I was a lame kid.

“It was nice being being with today.” He mumbled, nudging my shoulder with his and wearing the best smile in the whole wide world. “I’m glad we’ll be doing this for a few more weeks.”

“I’m glad too.” The watch on my wrist told me it was over six pm, which strictly meant my mum would be all over the place once I got home. “I should get going.”

“Wait, I-I…”

“Yes?”

“Oh, fuck it.”

Not thinking twice, he cupped my cheeks, pressing his perfectly shaped lips against mine in a sweet, tender kiss. At first I was surprised, however, as his tongue slowly licked stripe at my bottom lip, I melted away, surrendering to his touch. It was definitely nothing I could have ever dreamt about. The way his hands found the crook of my waist, how we moved in perfect sync… Everything felt like this was meant to be.

When air became necessary, we merely glued our foreheads together, gazes boring into one another. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t ideal, but, hell, I enjoyed this.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, we shouldn’t-”

I didn’t want to hear the rest, he wouldn’t pop my bubble so soon, therefore, I kissed him again, this time with much more passion and hunger. So strong we were left a heaving mess afterwards.

“You’re an amazing kisser too.” O'Brien whispered, making me giggle. “I mean it.”

“You are one crazy person, O'Brien.”

“I told you should call me Dylan.”

“As you wish, Mr. O'Brien.” Playfully winking at him, I stole another peck, earning a small smile from him. “This is crazy… I mean, someone could have seen us! Oh, fuck, what if one of the cleaning ladies saw us? You could lose your job! Shit!”

“Relax, nobody saw us.” His thumbs massaged my cheekbones, trying to sooth me. “But you can’t tell this to anyone, okay? Not even Miss Williams. Even though I don’t regret one bit, I could really lose my job if this comes out.”

“Of course I won’t tell anyone, it will be our little secret.”

“Deal.”

I hid my face on the crook of his neck, breathing in the intoxicating musk of his cologne. I couldn’t believe this was actually happening to me; I mean, it was too surreal. If it was a rumour about Briannah, I would have believed more, because, well, she did want to do it, but me? Nah, it was messed up. Nonetheless, it wasn’t less real. I was indeed within his arms. And, in that particular moment, I decided to not care about the consequences any longer.

#dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien fanfiction #dylan o'brien series #dylan o'brien fluff #dylan o'brien smut #dylan o'brien angst #dylan x reader #dylan o'brien x reader fluff #dylan o'brien x reader angst #dylan o'brien x reader smut #fluff #oc #dylan o'brien x ofc #golddaggers #reader x dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien x y/n #smut #chemistry #series #dylan fanfic #dylan o'brien x reader series #dylan smut #dylan fanfiction #dylan x reader series

[stunudo]

There is one quality which one must possess to win, and that is definiteness of purpose, the knowledge of what one wants, and a burning desire to possess it.

Napoleon Hill

That Got Away: A Criminal Minds Fan-fiction Part 11

Inspired by: Katy Perry’s “The One That Got Away”

Pearl Jam’s “Last Kiss”

Featuring: Spencer Reid x Reader   Setting: Season 4   Rating: Teen

A/N: Hang on! Warning: 3500+ words xoxo Stu

Warnings: Bodily functions, violence

I do not own any of the characters, quotes, images or lyrics.

Part 1   Part 9   Part 10

Michelle was laughing now, a laugh that made you think about drowned puppies and debased children. You gave in and dry heaved into the corner you had peed in a few hours ago. Captivity was not as pretty as they made it look like on television. She tapped her heeled toe in annoyance.

“I am helping her because I finally get to do this, Y/N!” Michelle kicked your chest with all her strength. The back of your head crashed into the brick wall seconds before your shoulders, knocking the breath from your lungs. Your vision wavered, then you were weightless once more. Through the blackness your ears became clouded and you drifted away from the smells on the cold floor.

Penelope Garcia was ransacking public records like it was a sale on Pop! Figures. She was digging through building plans and notation of purchases on the buildings connected to the hotel and convention center. Her fingers flew and her brain pushed on.

“Greetings my League of Heroes!” Her voice called over speaker phone. “So it turns out that Y/N’s father wasn’t the source of all their wealth. It was from the family of the late wife, her mom. Once she died the businesses and money were run without the family involvement, directly. Apparently our unsub number 1, “Auntie Miriam” was on the board of directors for one of the companies, ‘Prokopios Costa Holdings.’”

“Alright Baby Girl, coming back from behind! How does that give us motive?” Derek pushed the skilled analyst.

“It means, that when Dr. Y/L/N, the first one, died,” Garcia took a pause for effect.”

“Y/N Y/L/N became the majority share holder.” Hotch concluded.

“That’s why you’re the boss, boss!” Garcia agreed.

“So why kill Dr. Y/L/N in the first place?” Spencer asked confused, a nearly disgusted look on his face.

“Maybe she didn’t know until Y/N showed up and spoke with the lawyers?” Rossi mused.

“Uh, guys?” Garcia’s fingers were still flying. “Costa Holdings owns the hotel and the connected storage facility.”

“Of course they do.” Hotch acknowledged. “Good work Garcia.”

We were out on a date in my daddy’s car We hadn’t driven very far There in the road, up straight ahead A car was stalled, the engine was dead

The drive to San Francisco was tedious, causing you to swear often and without direction. Your hands cramped with the amount of tension they had supported through clenched fists. California freeways were perfect avenues for your heartbroken rage to pour out. Driving through up the 280 and branching onto the 1 put you on track to reach Auntie Miriam’s by dinner time.

You had never driven the hills of the city before, your dad always insisted on driving when you had visited for the holidays. The trolley’s added to the anxiety of driving through an unfamiliar street system. You silently wished your dad was behind the wheel, then refuted the wish because your father was a banal dictator.

There was a girl running sprints back and forth between your aunt’s driveway and the neighbor’s. She wore Umbro shorts and a sports bra as if she was in a Gatorade commercial. Her sweaty skin was sinuous, mild offense at her athletic body registered internally. You had enough experience with jocks and scholarship athletes at school to groan at the sight of one in their natural habitat.

You pulled into Miriam’s driveway, honking your arrival because you felt like pissing someone off. Spreading the misery around. You sighed and climbed from the VW, time to face the nunnery.

Miriam’s conditions resonated through Spencer’s mind. No weapons, no tricks and no wires. He could do that, in fact he would do that. While Hotch, Rossi, Morgan and Prentiss were coordinating with Garcia, Detective Change and local SWAT. JJ led Spencer to the hallway she had crawled into the hour before.

“Spence, you know this is going to end badly.” JJ gripped his bicep forcefully. “Whenever we split up one of us gets kidnapped.” Her melancholy laugh a poor attempt to break the apprehension they both were feeling. Spencer looked into the concerned face of his colleague and friend. His lips twitched while he wrestled with how to explain the real reasons he had to save Y/N. How this whole nightmare was his fault and it went back farther than Saturday morning at 1 o’clock when Dr. Y/L/N was murdered.

“I think we’re even now,” Spencer teased, the light not reaching his eyes like it normally would. “JJ, get some rest, I’ve got voluntary confinement to get to anyways.” He wrapped her smaller form in a slight hug as he slid past her into the miserable closet. JJ watched his lean body climb down into the darkness. She shoved the stone hatch back into place, securing it beneath its camouflaging mat once more.

The even spacing of the ladder rungs allowed Spencer to focus on counting. His steps, his breaths, his heart beats. His hip felt lighter from removing his holster. He measured time in his journey to understanding why Y/N had been the target of Miriam and Michelle’s unchecked rage. Revenge for petty unrequited love had past the usual time frame for serial stalkers. Power and money for Miriam were more probable motivators. Though he doubted them, as killing her brother was an illogical way to begin the lengthy legal processes of property transfer.

His seething anger at the damage and fear inflicted upon Y/N was buried.  Instead he mentally measured the length of the slope in the small hallway. Spencer’s long legs had walked 207 feet at an incline of roughly 9 degrees. Upon reaching the knob-less door, Spencer noted his surroundings. The walls had fresh paint on them, the fumes lingered. The wooden door had not window nor sight glass. The security camera mounted on the wall showed no signs of power until it whirred to life after he knocked to the old rhythm of “Shave and a Haircut, Two bits.”

I couldn’t stop, so I swerved to the right I’ll never forget the sound that night The screamin’ tires, the bustin’ glass

It was the sixth day of your banishment to your aunt’s Parkside home. You were dusting her second office from the daily list of chores she left for you. Michelle was over because you weren’t sure how to get rid of her, like a reoccurring nightmare or pimple. She was relentless and continually made her presence known.

The week had started off fine. Auntie Miriam had meetings and usual adult weekday work stuff. Unfortunately she was under the impression that your stay was a punishment, so she confiscated your keys. Which was slightly confining, but you could handle it. You had only had the car to yourself for the past year, anyway. When Michelle started hanging around, she was a friendly distraction. You had nothing in common with her besides age and gender; absolutely nothing. You were just so lonely that you made nice.

She asked about school (Ancient Greek was not something worth studying, as if physical therapy was for everyone?) and what you did for fun (listening to rockabilly music and reading were for old people). Eventually your love life came up and you gave in and told her about Spencer. It was hard to talk about him because you were still angry and raw. You may have focused on the romantic stuff, just to impress her. You did not ask nearly as many questions about her life, you only realized after your short stay in San Francisco ended.

It was on that sixth day, the tipping point was reached. She wore her dark hair in a high pony tail and just nosed into ever object left out. “When do you think you’ll be done with the list today?” Her impatient voice asked as she sifted through a stash of paperclips. You had no idea, the lists were becoming more specific and time consuming the longer you were there.

“Probably not until I need to start dinner. Why?” You watched Michelle, her restless body pacing. “Were you planning on me being out of jail today?” You laughed forcibly. Michelle’s arms flopped down in frustration. She huffed.

“Why did you have to get in trouble to visit?” She was really pushing your manners with her accusation. “I mean, we could have had the whole summer and now I just have to watch you clean.”

“One, I didn’t get in trouble. Two, you don’t have to watch me do anything, Michelle.” Your voice was rising now. “I mean, who just hangs out in their neighbor’s house watching their family do chores. Get a clue. I am stuck here for another week and a half: then sayonara !”

Michelle’s gasp told you that you had gone too far, but you didn’t care. She wasn’t anyone important to you. If you were being honest, it felt oddly satisfying to get that off of your chest. She stormed out of the room letting the bird fly at you. When she was presumably out of the house, you went to turn up the radio.

As JJ returned to the conference room and temporary BAU headquarters, the team was strapping on their vests. Rossi and Hotch were conversing with Detective Chang, who was holding blueprints. Morgan caught JJ’s eye, his defined eyebrows umbrellas of questions. She shrugged her shoulders, the lingering feeling of failing Spence twice in one day floating in the back of her mind. Derek felt her dismay, he crossed the room to grab her in a quick hug.

“He’s going to be fine, JJ,” Derek soothed. “That kid is not going to let anything happen down there. Neither are we.” Her blue eyes looked into his dark ones, nodding. The tears gathering in their corners were quickly brushed aside.

“Hotch?” JJ turned. “Mind if I sit at the security station? I am in no shape to go with you guys, but I want to make sure you are covered up here.” Hotch eyed his young agent warily, he nodded, giving permission solemnly.

Rossi patted Derek on the back after the muscular man had holstered his second weapon. Prentiss walked JJ back out into the lobby. She made sure JJ had a seat and could see the monitors that the team had watched her captivity on. “You sure you’re okay watching us? The locals can handle this, JJ. It might be too much right now.”

JJ shook her head, “Emily, I’m fine. I will have Garcia on the line if I need anything. Besides, I will hear everything over the comms either way. Go get Spence and his “lady friend” back.” Her bad joke had both women exchanging awkward grins.

“Never thought I would be hearing that one.” Emily walked back to join the BAU and SWAT, rolling her eyes.

I found the love that I knew I would miss But now she’s gone, even though I hold her tight I lost my love, my life that night

Spencer was trapped in a cliche. There he sat at his kitchen table with crumpled pieces of paper lying in small piles around him. He was attempting to apologize to Y/N for missing her send off. He didn’t feel he could justify his absence. Besides his mother was a person, not an excuse. The words were not forming, thoughts and longings were burying him in guilt. He just missed her.

He decided to start with short, clear, honest sentences. That didn’t work, Spencer began to ramble onto the paper, his abundant thoughts overflowing and clouding his apologies once again. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, trying to remember their last kiss. It was a peck as he leaned back into the VW, his bottom half getting soaked in the downpour. She had grinned at him and he had smiled back without teeth, his eyes dancing in the streetlights.

It wasn’t enough. That shouldn’t be their last kiss, it was a quick goodnight. Not a goodbye. Spencer closed his eyes behind his glasses, shook his head for clarity and began writing his dearest again.

Spencer stepped back to allow the automatic door to open fully before stepping into the next bare, freshly painted hall. He saw the set of desks ahead, just 100 meters to go. Miriam Y/L/N eyed the tall man with quiet amusement; he had barely changed in years. Spencer tucked his hair behind his ear in slight self-consciousness. This woman resembled her late brother with her wide face and imposing presence. But the similarities ended there, Graham’s kind eyes and jovial air were not shared. Her cold stare and disdain kept with the chill of the surrounding brick.

Spencer stood with his hands in his pockets, nodding at his soon-to-be jailer. “Miriam.”

“Dr. Reid, at last!” Miriam stood quickly. “Arms up, young man. I need to check you followed my instructions, for once.”

Suddenly there were strong hands frisking Spencer’s narrow sides. He flinched away, seeing Kurt Hansen, the bellhop, in the flesh. Spencer held back his field training and let the man finish his search. He cleared his throat and calmed his breathing. “Satisfied?” Spencer spat as he glanced between Kurt and Miriam.

“Quite.” Miriam smirked. “Now if you would kindly follow Mr. Hansen, he will show you to your room.”

“Not until I see Y/N.” Spencer crossed his arms in defiance, his head tilting slightly.

“Oh, pish.” Miriam waved at him, “She’s just next door. Let’s all go and see what Michelle and Y/N have gotten into!” Spencer’s eyes popped in surprise, he had not thought she would let him near her niece. Her true target. He followed Kurt as Miriam marched behind them both. The hall was quiet, a small row of doors began, Spencer counted four before a wide metal garage-like door ended the hall.

“After we give you what you want, you’ll just what? Release us?” Spencer asked.

“After I have what I need and am far far away, yes.” Miriam specified. “I swear I will let you and your little minx go.” She nodded to her cohort. Spencer’s instincts were not accepting her vow as trustworthy just yet.

Kurt unlocked the large steal bolt on the first room. The sound reverberated through the small space and rattled Spencer’s bones of hearing. Standing on the other side of the door was Michelle Braxton, with her large hands on her hips. “It’s about time!” She huffed. “Princess over there has been out for five minutes. I thought you forgot about me.” She sounded like a child whining to a spoiling parent for more sweets. Spencer had to hide his instant annoyance.

As Kurt grunted back, “Deal with it, Mickey. We had another guest to attend to.” He held the door wider, baring Spencer to the scene before him. Y/N was laying face down on the damp cement floor, her mouth open and one eye swollen shut. Spencer’s arms flew from his pockets and he rushed to check on her limp body. Kurt and Michelle each grabbed one of his flailing arms, holding him just inside Y/N’s cell.

Miriam cleared her throat behind Spencer, “That’s enough, now let’s get down to business.”

Spencer knew not to argue now, his body walked dejectedly backwards as his eyes remained on the slight movement of Y/N’s torso. She was breathing! Once he was back in the narrow hall, he shook off the strong grips of the suspects. He held his hands up in surrender, following to his own captivity. Miriam was waiting for him in the dank space, almost smiling in anticipation.

“Dr. Reid, as I am sure you have deduced. I need your mind to access my brother’s fortune. I have a series of riddles, puzzles, what-have-yous that Graham designed for you. I also have a set for my impetuous niece. Now I must have both of you complete your parts to get what I deserve.”

Spencer was insulted by the trivial reasoning behind her fratricide. He huffed at her request. “How do you know your errand girl didn’t beat Y/N beyond reasoning? How is she going to complete her part unconsciously? You should let me check on her, ensure she can do what you need her—”

“That’s enough, Dr. Reid.” Miriam interjected. “Y/N will be fine, Michelle knows what she is doing. A brain like Y/N’s tends to prove more resilient than one might hope.” She approached Spencer with a sheet of paper and a simple number 2 pencil. “You may begin.”

The two guards at the door watched Spencer as he stood in the center of the room. Miriam left first, followed by a smirking Michelle and a bored Kurt. The metal lock shuttered into place.

When I woke up, the rain was pourin’ down There were people standing all around Something warm runnin’ in my eyes But somehow I found my baby that night

You arrived on campus just one day before classes started. The VW had handled the trek like a champion, but you were ready to leave her in the student lot for the remainder of the semester. After you had unloaded the last of your boxes, you decided to grab some dinner before the real unpacking was required.

You took your i.d. and keys to check the campus managed mail system on the way to the crowded eating/ studying space. Your box was jammed full. There were notices about x, y and z organizations, a couple of credit card applications and five letters from a certain scrawny guy with ridiculously soft lips. You sighed deeply, ‘Well, at least he’s not dead.’ You thought bitterly. You shoved your haul under your armpit as you headed to the cacophony of the cafeteria.

You quickly skimmed the fliers and advertisements, ripping the debt-magnets in halves. Finally, after your soup had cooled, you opened one of Spencer’s letters. According to the postmarks, they had begun arriving four days after you had left Pasadena. So he was thinking about you while you were gone, but he couldn’t bother to actually send you off. You tried to keep the negative thoughts away, but you were still hurt from his apparent abandonment.

When you shut off your attitude and read his letter, you began to weep. His gentle kindness begged for your forgiveness. Spencer knew facts and figures, but he also knew how to diffuse your temper. His message was simple, yet honest. You didn’t make it to the last paragraph before disregarding your meal tray to return to your room to call him.

“Hey, Sir-sir,” You smiled shyly into your suite phone.

“Y/N? Oh, how are you?” Spencer asked genuinely concerned.

“Better, I got your letters,” You cooed, “I only got through most of the first one before I had to talk to you again. So, it is safe to say you are forgiven.”

“You had every right to be angry,” Spencer admitted. “But know that I would have been there, giving you a more deserving farewell, if I could have. You must know that.”

You nodded your head, holding the lump in your throat as the bittersweet tears began to fall. “I miss you so much, how are we going to do this?”

“Just like this, mon cher.” Spencer’s voice softened at your distress. “As long as we can talk and write, we can do this.”

Spencer read through the riddles on the sheet before him. Why had Graham mentioned Spencer when he devised this seemingly juvenile test?

Why did I divide sin by tan?

Why should the number 288 never be mentioned?  AND

What is the difference between a Ph.D. in mathematics and a large pizza? There were seven blanks at the bottom of the page, with the decimal going into the ten thousandths place. After all of this anger, frustration and happenstance: Spencer was sitting cross legged in a cell chuckling at math puns. The gentle hand of grief constricted his throat as he efficiently finished the problem.

201.0966

Spencer stood, clearing the dust from his trousers. He walked calmly to the camera nestled above the doorway. He held the paper to the screen, awaiting his next assignment.

Someone said you had your tattoo removed Saw you downtown singing the Blues It’s time to face the music I’m no longer your muse

The first months of the fall semester flew by as Spencer dove into the new classes he helped facilitate. That with all the lab time to get through for his doctoral level chemistry courses, he was as busy as ever. He made a point to write to Y/N on Tuesdays over lunch, because it was now such a tradition for them. They also tried to have a consistent phone date on Friday mornings. But Y/N decided it was time she get a campus job, therefore the phone calls were usually brief or just short messages left with her suite-mates.

Spencer’s birthday was approaching and he was counting the hours until he could finally be recognized as an adult. This also meant that he would have to finally decide what he should do for his mother. The paperwork from the lawyers, (Diana’s doctors had recommended to Spencer after her incident over the summer) was hidden in his book bag, in a plain manila folder. He felt as if he were carrying thirty pieces of silver around with him at all times.

When his birthday arrived, his mother was lucid. She sat him down and told him his birth story, again. She was so proud of her brilliant boy and at long last here he was, a man. He didn’t have class or lab until the afternoon, so he stayed home and took turns reading and being read to by his mom. It was guilty conscious more than birthday tradition, but she seemed none the wiser. Spencer slowly relaxed for the day.

Y/N called at eight o’clock that night, just before he had to get his mom her night time medications. She sang a boisterous Happy Birthday having somehow convinced the other girls in her suite to sing along. Spencer blushed at the attention, even over the phone and across state lines. “Well, now you’re legal, Dr. Reid. Maybe I won’t get arrested for seducing you after all.” Y/N joked over the phone. They had never gotten to that level of intimacy, it was just her usual banter.

“It’s a good thing, too. Since my mother is very protective of me.” Spencer teased back. “I do need to get going though, Y/N/N. Talk to you on Friday?”

“Can we scoot it up to 9 am?” She suggested evasively.

“Ugh, I suppose, I don’t need sleep or anything.” Spencer chided, his grin fading as his mother called from her room. “I really should go, goodnight mon cher.”

“Nighters!”

Part 12

@sparkle-dinosaur, @dontshootmespence @reiding-and-writing @speedreiding @reid-my-fortune @sapphire1727 @holagubler @cherry-loves-fanfic @lookingforgalifrey @miss-gleek-freak-geek@criminal-minds-fanfiction @reidbyers @sortaathief @imagicana @milkandcookies528

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfictions #spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer imagine #dr reid #angst #some fluff too #scary #bad puns #bau #almost over #poor y/n #vw #weird neighbors #sometimes family sucks #pearl jam #katy perry #teen angst #flashbacks

[dailyaudiobible]

7/25/2017 DAB Transcript

Chronicles 14:1-16:14 ~ Romans 9:1-24 ~ Psalm 19:1-14 ~ Proverbs 20:1

Today is the 25th day of July. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I am Brian. It is great to be here with you today. I just threw another log on the global camp fire. Everything is all nice and comfy. I’ve got a good, steamy cup of coffee to my left. We are ready. And we are reading from the Gods Word translation this week -  second Chronicles chapter 14 verse 1 through 16 verse 14 today.

Commentary:

OK. So, Psalm 19 makes some declarations or offers some declarations that we should pay attention to because it's outlining a posture of heart and a way of life that will work. Like, if we will embrace these things as true and then live into these things as true then we have a model that will work. The teachings of the Lord are perfect. They renew the soul. If you believe that's true then embrace it with heart, mind, and will. The testimony of the Lord is dependable. Right? What he says is dependable. It makes even gullible people wise. The instructions of the Lord are correct. They make the heart rejoice. In other words, we don’t have to figure out everything for ourselves. We have the instruction of the Lord through His word and through the power of His Holy Spirit within us. The instructions of the Lord are correct and they will make our heart rejoice. The command of the Lord is radiant. It makes the eyes shine. The fear of the Lord is pure. It endures forever. The decisions of the Lord are true. They are completely fair. They are more desirable than gold, even the finest gold. They are sweeter than honey, even the drippings from a honeycomb. As Your servant, which is us, I am warned by them. There is a great reward in following them. Because you can notice every mistake? Forgive my hidden faults. Keep me from sinning. And notice, that's not us saying, ok, I'm going to redouble my efforts and not sin today in my own strength. That would be the discipline that Paul was talking about when he talked about the mosaic law, saying none of us of have been able to achieve this. We can't achieve this on our own. What the psalmist says is, keep me from sinning, which indicates surrender. I can't do this. I surrender to you. Keep me from sinning. And, so, we find ourselves moving away from that statement. When we find ourselves moving into sin then we can see immediately that we have assumed control. We have taken it back. We have broken apart the union and intertwining with God that was offered to us through the gospel. Do not let anyone gain control over me. Right? Don't let anyone have undue or improper influence over me, then I will be blameless and I will be free from any great offense. May the words from my mouth and the thoughts from my heart be acceptable to you, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer. May my thoughts, words, and deeds be acceptable.

It’s so beautiful, this idea of surrender. We fight against that concept so hard. We want to be individuals, freestanding entities, that have total control over our destiny and we fight this idea of surrender when the Lord is saying, like, surrender isn't about giving up. I am trying to care for you. You have to let Me. It's like the analogy of a drowning person in the water. So, a person who has gotten in over their head, out beyond where they can return, strength is waning, they're freaking out. Rescuers come. And for a person who's about to rescue a drowning person, this is the greatest moment of danger for them because a drowning person can freak out and make it difficult or even harm the person trying to rescue them. Because their thrashing and losing control, rather than doing what they should do, relax and be rescued. Safe, easy, over. This is how we are with surrender in our lives and yet the offer of the gospel and surrender is, I don't have to figure out everything anymore. I am not on my own. I never have been nor will be. I'm not a freestanding entity that has to be all-powerful and try to make a way in the world. That's not even what I'm doing here. I'm intertwined in union with God. That's what I'm doing here. And it's a great adventure. And obstacles come my way and they're hard. Wilderness seasons come. They're hard but they're forming me. I have surrendered. I am not in control, which gives such freedom. It simply requires trust, total trust. I have to trust that God is within and among and around me in all things as I surrender to Him. But at some point we have to look at our lives and say, what do I have to lose? Because every other attempt at every other thing isn’t working - not leading me to peace within, the satisfaction and contentment within. I'm always running one place to another, to another, to another, to try to fill the void. But surrender means there is no void to fill. I'm filled completely. I’m where I'm supposed to be. This is the offer of the gospel and the works. May we surrender to it today.

Prayer:

So, Father, we invite you into that. We confess that we have surrendered large portions of our lives to You but not everything. And it's always a moving target. Because there have been times when we’ve surrendered everything because we've had no other choice. We’ve surrendered everything and You have come through and You have been there and You've been trustworthy. But then we get back up on our feet and take control again because want to be in the driver's seat. And then we kind of end up where we started. So, Holy Spirit, show us what it looks like to live a life of surrender - not of giving up but of being  empowered and in union with You. Come, Holy Spirit, we pray in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is the website. It’s home base. It’s where you find out what's going on around here. So, be sure to check that out.

If you haven't gotten into the Sneezing Jesus discussion group yet, check that out. There’s just fantastic conversations and stories that happen there. I'm enjoying it immensely. You guys are so encouraging. And we’ll do another Facebook Live very soon. We’ll talk about small groups. We’ll start to get into some of the chapters and I'll announce that date as soon as I study my calendar a little bit and just carve the space. But I'm looking forward to that. So, definitely check that out.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com.  There is a link on the homepage. Thank you profoundly for those of you who have been willing to click that link here in the summer months. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app, you can press the More button in the lower right hand corner or if you prefer the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill TN 37174.

And of course, as always, if you have a prayer request or comment 877-942-4253 is the number to dial.

And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayers and Praise Reports:

Hi. This is Greg from Minneapolis. First time caller. Listening to the Daily Audio Bible for many years. And a little bit behind but I just listened to the June 19th podcast and I’m calling to pray for, specifically, Marco regarding your lost job and your concern about your wife. And then also, Rich, in Little Rock, with adversity you’ve been facing and the love that you desire for the Lord. Guys, I’ve just got to say that, over a 30 ____. Marco, you’ve been many times, and I don’t even have time on this call to share how many times the Lord has delivered me from those back against the Red Sea moments. But He’s there.  Guys, I just pray right now. Lord, Jesus, I pray for healing in Marco. I pray for Your wholeness and shalom, Your comfort over them and their loved ones. I pray, Lord, for Your peace, that they would know that You are in control and You would give them ____ and that they would see themselves as they close their eyes being held by You, Jesus. And they would see themselves on the other side of this desert place they’re in, this adversity, because it will pass. And I pray they would see themselves holding Your hand and praising You for being with them every step of the way. ____ protection over them, Lord, that the enemy would not rattle their faith in the midst of this adversity. And I pray for wisdom, Lord, God. That they would have that wisdom, to know that these things are temporary but they build character, Lord. ____ for You to be praised. So, I just pray that this trial will result in praise and glory and honor to You, Lord, Jesus, and that You would be the hero in their story. In Your holy name, I pray. Amen.

Hi guys. How are you doing? This is John. I ask for your prayers for my marriage. After three weeks of being gone, my wife is coming home late tonight. She’s agreed to a talk.  No promises. No anything. But at least that’s something. So, a bit of a praise report. ____ prayers, I know it won’t be played until whenever but I really would love this to work out for any number of reasons because I think it’s the right thing to do. Brian married us…remarried us at the Serengeti…a while back. So, I believe it’s meant to be. If it’s meant to be it’s up to me. So, I’m just begging you all…and I’m not a guy who begs…I actually do everything by myself and all that…and that’s part of the problem. In the process of taking care of myself I ____ for support.  I’ve got a long way to climb back. If you can just pray for us. And it will be if it’s God’s plan to happen. Thank you so much. Thank you for being there. I pray for you all. I can’t pray like Victoria S. or write poetry like Blind Tony but ____ any of you all…I like to have aspirations. Thank you guys. I’m just praying.

If the foundation ___ then the structure will not stand the stresses and the tolerances that the storms of life demand. It’s hard to build on granite or any kind of rock, even with the proper tools or work around-the-clock ____ drilling, boring, shaping, pouring, bracing, propping up, and shoring, and lot’s more stuff that I’m ignoring. But there is one rock that’s worth exploring. Jesus is that rock. The rock on which I stand. ___ the storms of life and all that they demand. The winds may blow, the waters rise, all on earth may die. You’ll still be safe with Jesus, the rock that’s very, very high. [email protected]. ____ haven’t heard from you in a long time. And Gigi, hope you are still hanging in there. And I’d like to give a shout out to Dean S. from Kansas. Hope all is well. And once again, my love to the Hardin family for this wonderful podcast for God’s Holy Spirit to flow. Keep it flowin’ y’all.

Hi family. It’s Laura from Fort Meyers. So, I heard a lady call in…I think for her daughter-in-law or maybe daughter. I am…it just really…it touched me. To think that that woman had someone like her to pray for her because…and then I started thinking…I don't really ___ unless I'm not aware of it. My own mom doesn't. Another mom might. My husband doesn't. So, ___ put more out there for you guys to help pray for me. So, I've been trying to figure out what to ask for and I think I need to start with…I had a lot of emotional abuse growing up and I think it’s that and a combination of my personality…make me over analyze everything and sometimes it's hard ___ or make a decision…and because I just have all these thoughts going on in my head and I’ve been working on it and I feel like things are getting better, especially through this ministry that I'm so grateful for. But I'm just tired of…I want to move on…to…you know…to the next level. So, would you guys start praying for that for me, so I can have more confidence? ___ really what else. I'm just leading from the Holy Spirit…just to move on and get rid of all these jumbled thoughts in my head. Thank you so much. I love you.

Hey everyone. It’s ___ from FL. I just posted on the Facebook Wall but I wanted to say it so you guys could kind of hear it in my voice. I posted on the Facebook group about allot of stuff that’s kind of going on with me and my health at three in the morning. Man, the response I got was just… A thank you doesn't even begin to cover it. It means so much to me and it stirs my heart so ___ that you guys really care. And that you guys aren’t just spitting religious platitudes and that there's a genuine heart. And I just want to ask that God bless all of you in just the most amazing ___. That's all guys. I just want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. And by the time this gets played I’ll probably have some more test results. I’m going to just praise God now, so that the test results, the praise and I give them will match the praise that I give now. Thank You Father for how much You care, for the heart You’ve given Your people. Thank You for all of what You do. You're everybody's disease and that You forgive everybody’s sin. In the name of Jesus. Amen and Amen.

[moseley-writers-group]

The Long Game

by

Kwane Sisulu

General feedback is welcome.

 You can say what you want about Josh bloody Hardwick, but you cannot say that he doesn't know how to show a girl a good time. But a good time always ends – maybe not end, but breaks until the next episode – and now he had to listen to endless ramblings.

In his bed, Becky sat, knees drawn up to her breasts, puffing on her cigarette while she ran the fingers of her free hand through her mousy brown hair. 

"I mean, look at me," she said. "I have to spend the whole day minding the babs, but I go to the hairdresser and try to keep myself looking nice. What does he do? He just comes home and sprawls himself on the bed without even changing his clothes."

Josh mumbled something non-committal and kept his face friendly, but his toes curled as he watched the smoke drift away. He thought of how the stink would cling to the walls and the curtains. Two days! Just two bloody days since he has had his flat and here she was, stinking it up with her bloody cigarette. He would have to open the windows as soon as she was through the door. Josh had never understood the pleasure of smoking, and the truth was, kissing her was like licking an ashtray, but she had other skills, and those skills were bloody advanced. Well, no one was perfect, so if you buy a leg of lamb, you must also settle for the bone. That's what Grandpa Hardwick used to say. 

"Ungrateful bastard! I could've gotten me a better man, but I'm stuck with this pig," said Becky.

"HmmHm," grunted Josh.

Marriage? Which man in his right mind would get married? Josh didn't mind being on the outside looking in – the truth is, he liked married women, because they expected nothing of him, except for a good time – but he would never want to be on the receiving end. Fuck him, but he wouldn't.

Becky looked down at him. "You're not listening to me, are you?"

Josh hoped his expression showed how outraged he was. "What? How can you say that?"

She nodded and seemed satisfied. "Anyway," she said, getting up from the bed while gathering her clothes. "I need to go before he starts to wonder where I am."

Josh watched her get ready with a sense of relief, but he hoped that his face was saying how sad he was to see her go. "When am I going to see you again?" he asked as she buttoned her skirt. A woman wants to feel wanted if she was expected to be there when he needed her to. He kissed her at the door, no tongue though, and slapped her playfully on the ass as she walked off. Becky flashed him a toothy grin over her shoulder, and Josh smiled back. 

Josh flopped into his armchair and retrieve his library book. He smiled to himself and wondered what his mates would say about him reading books. It was not the manly thing at all, but he did not care. Say what you want about Josh Hardwick, but you cannot say that he did not understand women. He studied them with a passion, and you would be surprised what you learn about a woman from the books she read. He may not be Casanova, but he knew what he was about. Pride and Prejudice; he had seen it on Maggie's kitchen table and went to the library the next day. 

Maggie bloody Prendergast. Now there's a challenge for you. Talking in her fine way, like forcing her words around a plumb. "That's so very kind of you, Mr Hardwick," he mimicked in her voice. Who even talked like that?

Josh remembered the first time Maggie set eyes on him – looking at him like something she scraped off her boots. But he had seen how she looked at his shirtless body from behind her curtains when she thought that he wasn't looking. If she knew Josh Hardwick, she would have known that he missed nothing. He did not miss the way her face lit up when their fingers touched, nor the way her eyes searched his face when he gave her that bunch of wild-flowers cut from her own garden. Eyes searching for meaning in a face schooled to innocence. It was the bloody kitten that did it though. His dad wanted to drown the damn thing after it got itself under his foot and broke its leg, but Josh had a better idea. Which woman could help liking a man who cares for helpless little fur-balls? Josh Hardwick was not nearly as thick as people thought he was. Sometimes you have to play the fool to catch the wise. That was what his grandpa used to say, and you can say what you want about Grandpa Hardwick - say that he was partial to a pint, or eight or nine - but don't say that there was anything worth knowing that he didn't know.

People are creatures of habit. Josh had long realised that if you are patient enough, you can set your watch by watching their behaviour. And he was nothing if not patient. So, at two-thirty-five on Saturday afternoon, he just happened to be exiting the library as Maggie was entering. He had only been watching for her for thirty-five minutes, and he held his copy of Wuthering Heights just so. She would not be able to miss it.

Josh pretended not to see Maggie until he almost bumped into her.

"Mr Hardwick," said Maggie, eyes widening. He was the last person she expected to run into.

Josh feigned surprise. "Well, hello there. Fancy running into you here."

"Yeah," she said, her eyes widened even further when she saw the book in his hand. Josh was willing to bet good money that she did not think he could even read.

"Are you a member here?" he asked, then added, "been coming since I was a lad. I normally come in the morning but had to run some errand for mi mom."

"Yes," she said, "me too... I mean I've been coming since I was a child, but I always come in the afternoon before I do the shopping." 

"What you got there?" asked Josh, trying to seem awkward. "I mean, what book are you returning?"

Josh realised that they were, conveniently for him, blocking the door and step back inside. Maggie followed. "Oh," she said, smiling, "Pride and Prejudice, girlie stuff."

Josh widened his eyes. "Really? I love that book! Hated that Mr Darcy though, with this nose in the air like he was better than anyone." He gave her his most bashful look. "I'm sorry."

Maggie narrowed her eyes. "Sorry?" she seemed confused. "What for?" 

"For taking up your time. It's just that I don't normally meet anyone who is interested in books." Time to roll the dice. "I'll leave you be Miss Prendergast. It was good running into you." He made to leave, but she smiled.

"Maggie," she said. 

"Pardon me?" 

"Call me Maggie. And yes, it is good to find someone to talk to about books," she said. Or anything else for that matter, thought Josh, but he did not say that. It's not like the girl has any friends after the way old man Prendergast kept her isolated. "And no, Mr Hardwick, you are not bothering me."

"Well, Maggie, I'll call you Maggie, if you call me Josh."

"Josh, it is then."

Josh smiled; just a little one to show that he was pleased. "By the way, how is the little pussy? It hasn't run off, has it? 

Maggie's face lit up. "Oh, no. And that one loves attention. As soon as I sit down, he's crawling into my lap to be stroked". 

Lucky bloody cat, thought Josh, he could think of a few things he'd like her to stroke with those hands that have never done any real work. "You are good for him," he said. "I knew you would take good care of him.

"Yes I will," she said looking pleased with herself 

"Do you know what book you will get today?" he asked.

"No," she said, "I'll just wander around and see if anything takes my fancy. Will you walk with me?" 

Of course, he bloody would.

They walked around the adult fiction section picking out books that they have read and sharing excited remarks. At least Josh did not have to pretend through this. In the end, Maggie selected a copy of Nineteen Eighty-Four.

"It has been an Interesting afternoon Maggie," said Josh. He did not want to use words like fun, that may betray his true intentions, not yet. When she smiled, he added, "Erm, would it be erm, improper if I changed my library time to match yours? Maybe you could recommend a few of your favourite books to me."

She met his eyes. "Yes, yes, I would like that."

Later that night, Josh lay in bed propped up on a pillow, with the book Wuthering Heights held in one hand. It was hard to get into the book. It was no wonder he had avoided it all these years, but the things a man will do for a woman. It did not help that Maggie would not leave his mind. Oh yes, she made a fetching picture once his mind did a few embellishments; his free hand kept moving down to massage inside his briefs. In the end, he gave up on reading for the night, but it was too late to visit any of his lady friends, so a shower with a bar of soap had to do.

The next Saturday, Maggie was bang on time, and Josh went warm all over at the way she smiled at him. The next hour was a repeat of the week before, except that Maggie seemed a lot more relaxed. 

As they sat looking out the window, the rain and sleet came in a deluge that ended almost as soon as it started. So it was that when they were leaving the library, Josh held out a hand to help Maggie down the slippery steps. Maggie took his hand, but she did not release it when she was safely down, and Josh savoured the feeling of her soft fingers against his calloused ones; so very different like fire and ice. Well, he would be buggered if he was going to release hers. 

It was time to play another card. "I know a nice little coffee shop," Josh said in a low voice. "Can I interest you in a cup?"

Maggie looked up into his face, and her eyes twinkled in a knowing way. "You sure can," she said, "but maybe you want to make it a glass of wine."

It took an effort for Josh to keep his mouth from falling open - a dark horse indeed - it seems that he had underestimated Maggie Prendergast. He grinned at her. "A glass of wine it is then."

For the next seven days, Josh burned with excitement. Becky visited twice and Rose once, but the flame never died. He knew what he wanted every time he replayed the image of Maggie walking away from him. Her clothes were more suitable for a woman ten years older than her, and covering more than he liked, but that seemed to heighten his yearning.

On Saturday, things went differently. They were in and out of the library within fifteen minutes after agreeing that time would be better spent in the coffee shop. Actually, Josh made the suggestion, and a Maggie agreed; he wished that she would always be that agreeable.

"So what is it like working in the mine," asked Maggie when she was halfway through her second glass of wine.

"Really hard," said Josh. Inside, he was thanking his lucky stars; she was interested in him and this gave him the chance to talk about himself. "I've only been doing it for a year," he told her. "Hard work but the money is good. I'm trying to have enough put away for when I go to college."

"College?" Maggie's eyes almost popped out of her head. Yeah, thought Josh, he knew she would react like that. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the little table that separated them. Josh did not look at her bosom. The eyes, look her in the eyes, he told himself. "What are you going to do in college?"

"I'm going to do the engineering technician course at the poly. Maybe convert it to a degree when I'm done. There is always good work for engineers, and that will come in handy when I start a family."

He watched her smile and gaze at him like she was seeing him for the first time. "So, what about you," he asked, resting his own elbows on the table so that barely a foot of space separated their faces. "What plan's does a bright spark like you have for the future?"

"Bright, me?" said Maggie.

 Josh could smell the sweet scent of lavender coming from her freshly shampooed hair. He breathed her in.

"Don't be modest now," he said, giving her his best grin. "Smart and beautiful. One day you are going to make some guy very lucky."

Josh put on his most innocent face as he watched her blush like two sunsets. She did not back away, but she brought the glass to her lips and down the contents. 

"I want to be a teacher," said Maggie.

"That's lovely," said Josh, "I love children too." Let her make of that what she will.

Maggie went on at great length about her ambitions. After all, she was a headmaster's daughter, and teaching was in her blood. And when a woman wants to talk about herself, Josh would advise every man to listen. Women can't help but see something in a man who listens to them nattering on and on. But in a game of poker, sometimes a man feels that he has a hand so good that there is nothing to do but toss his cards on the table. 

Josh leaned forward and brushed his lips against Maggie. Her talking came to an abrupt halt, but she did not pull back. If anything, she looked at him with her big eyes. If he was an arrogant man, he would have said that those eyes were full of desire, but Josh was not an arrogant man - far from it.

He moved his face forward again, and this time her lips parted to receive his. Maggie's eyes shuttered, and their tongues intertwined sharing with him the tangy sweetness of wine. It was not as smooth as kissing Becky or Rose or even Kate. There was that awkwardness that marked it as her first kiss, but he would teach her because you can say what you want about Josh Hardwick, but you can't say that he was not a patient man. And that was nothing but the bloody truth.